#the symbol reminds me of 'how bold I was / could be / will be / still am / by god still am'

[numinousnumbat]

On Thursday, May 9, Kat reblogged an instagram story from her tattoo artist. She has a Web of Wyrd tattoo on the back of her neck. The Web of Wyrd is a Nordic symbol that represents all the possibilities of the past, present, and future.

kat: I know, I know, I've always been a little wyrd... From a happy moment that took my breath away.... Thank you for the beautiful work always @ needlevvoman .

needlevvoman: Done some cute rune for @ kat.mcnamara. We also added some details to existing tattoo .so lovely seeing you again ♥️

[aoxizu]

i have another 2.1 character dynamic post in the recesses of my brain but i need to get this out first

star rail's 2.1 update main plotline leans a lot more into existentialism and absurdism than i thought it would which is a really nice surprise

like i thought before 2.0 that at most it was just going to be some "oh no capitalism bad ipc bad cults also bad" thing but honestly what we got is so much more interesting. the spoilers start now

also massive disclaimer i am not a philosophist and actually i really don't like philosophy because it makes my brain hurt and i would much rather just look at logical nice things like math and plants so. if i get anything wrong please correct me

acheron's past and how she became an emanator of nihility reminds me somewhat of the absurdist theme of how people always look for meaning when there isn't any, until they finally realize that the universe is meaningless

and the entire path of nihility basically is a road towards that realization that people tread on, and the difference between the real world and star rail is that in the real world here we have people who will see that and then go write a book about a guy not crying at his mother's funeral, whereas in star rail it seems that just accepting that the universe is meaningless turns you into a pathstrider or even emanator of the nihility (not sure if i remember the details, correct me if i'm wrong)

and then aventurine's whole motivation is trying to understand why the universe is so cruel to him, and to find meaning when you have everything except freedom, both of which are absurdist themes

the leap of faith argument often attributed to søren kierkegaard claims that even though there is no rational logic for believing in god, you should do it anyway because the alternatives are madness, suicide, and ignorance. this was one solution to the problem of confronting the universe's meaninglessness: choosing to believe in a higher being regardless

later world wars i and ii both contributed heavily to the rise of absurdism as people returned from the war, having seen so many others die around them, and then just going back to a normal society with none of what they as individual soldiers had contributed seemingly doing anything. and then it happened again, but on a much greater scale with even more deaths. both wars and the destruction they brought led many people to start questioning why a supposedly moral god could allow this suffering, and this is where camus comes in and says that actually religion and nationalism both aren't good solutions, and instead we should just accept meaninglessness and keep living despite the absurdity

and i think dr ratio's scroll thing kind of relates to that

he tells aventurine to open it when he's about to die, or when he's completely out of answers for the question of how to confront absurdity

and dr ratio's answer for aventurine is to just tell him to keep living, good luck

which is. yeah

it's the argument that there are more answers to nihilism than just 1) going insane, 2) pretending like it doesn't exist, and 3) dying

it's the bold claim that despite everything, you can still choose to live

sure nothing makes sense but that does not detract from your life. it doesn't need to make sense at all

and with the understanding that things do not need to fit our human definition of meaning, we can continue on knowing our true place in the universe

and with that aventurine walks into the very big black hole like look at that thing you cannot tell me there is no symbolism there

let's go back to acheron.

in the part where you get a snippet of acheron's conversation with some guy just before this cutscene, the other party states that "[IX] leave[s] woven strands of fate for humans to walk, and together THEY weave a great shadow...And this shadow silently envelops them."

which to me sounds like a statement on how people across time and space have again and again come to the same question, what is the meaning of life?

and acheron's whole color thing seems to mean that she is one of the few who, after walking so far on the path of nihility, somehow have not died yet, be it from madness or something else

like it seems implied that many many more have seen the meaninglessness of the universe and have not reacted as well as acheron has

ok i have more to say about the elation and how it in turn relates to the nihility but that will have to come later but there is. a lot of interesting things there to explore

once again disclaimer: I Am Not A Philosophist And Do Not Know What The Correct Definitions Of These Words I'm Throwing Around Are. thank you for coming to my ted talk that was more of a longwinded ramble

[generalsdiary]

flowers... for me?

gn!reader x Dan Heng

warnings: none

word count: under 1k

a/n: i read somewhere that men only receive flowers at their funeral- while this ain’t that sad nor referenced to that, it made me think of how dan heng would react to getting flowers ^^, not beta read we miss firefly in this house

description: you gift flowers to him, sweet tooth-rotting fluff

„flowers“ you extend your hands, handing over the beautiful bouquet to him. „yes. I can see. they look fresh, healthy. T- hm... tulips, I believe? I'll have to check in the data bank.“ he graciously turns around tapping on a small screen in the archive. „yes I think those are tulips. I am not as acquainted as you are with Earth's specimen, so apologies for taking a moment.“

you smile, he must be oblivious. with hands still outstretched you softly call out his name, „Dan Heng. they're for you.“ there's a pause. he slowly turns back around to face you. „flowers? for... me?“ you nod. „there's a custom to gift one's significant other with gifts and or flowers.“ smiling brightly at the stoic man with a neutral expression which to you translates that he is flustered. „I see. well then, I grow more accustomed to such traditions of this planet you cherish each day.“ his fingers caress against yours as he takes the bouquet in his hands. „…thank you“

„you should put them in a vase and add some sugar in the water so they last long, and perhaps cut the stem diagonally, they will take water in better that way.“ adorably you give him directions on how to take care of it. „please, I know how to take care of plants and similar species.“ he sighs softly and closes his eyes for a moment. “any particular reason behind this kind of flowers? aren’t roses the most popular Earth’s flower?” “they are. I chose tulips, red tulips because of their meaning. but, also, you could try searching for the meaning or what they symbolize- I don’t have to tell you~” you smirk, taking a small step back, teasing the poor man. he sighs, reaching out with his free hand to delicately take your hand in his, “tell me. it is obvious you wish so”, his lips press soft kisses over your knuckles and fingers while you answer. “among other things, they mean eternal, forever-lasting love.” his lips freeze for a moment, hovering over your hand, the faintest blush covers his cheeks. he blinks a few times, and after gaining his composure he gazes at the flowers, “I didn’t take you for the romantic type”, moving his gaze at you. “it’s hard to not be a romantic with someone as gentle and patient as you.” you just seem to be out for his heart today, he glances away. between feeling flustered and happy he is reminded of how in love with you he is.

your hand cups his cheek, thumb caressing his cheekbone, nudging him ever so slightly with soft moves to look back at you. “you might want to press one flower between the pages of a book, to preserve it.” he nods, “yes, that is a pleasant idea. in that cause, one flower shall be preserved.” he picks out a tulip, pulling it out of the bouquet, and brings it to your lips, “may I request…?” he quietly, almost like he is shy in this bold action, asks. your lips move against the soft petals, careful to not create a crease on the fragile flower. to your surprise, Dan Heng also moves, his lips meeting the petals on the opposite side of the same flower, his cyan eyes making unmoving eye contact with you, making your heart skip a beat.

the intimate moment passes, yet it leaves a warm atmosphere behind it. Dan Heng sets the single tulip aside, eyes lingering on it and his fingers move along the stem. in his mind, he is appreciating the flower, and in your eyes, those fingers are moving a bit seductively, you almost want to call him out on flirting in such a coy nature. your mind begins to imagine how those fingers would feel on your cheek, caressing in the same gentle way, and your eyes close at the comforting image.

you feel a hand on your cheek, caressing gently, “are you alright?” Dan Heng wonders, you appeared to have wandered off in your head. you open your eyes and meet his. the sight and the feeling of his touch fill you with a sense of joy, peace, and contentment. “I love you.” the words come out easily, you say them like it is the most natural thing in the world. he smiles, looking down at the flowers in his other hand, and looks back up at you. “I love you too.”

his gaze is filled with love and loyalty to you only, so when he talks the words seem to blow past the both of you as your focus is on each other, “I’ll have to ask Pom-Pom about a vase then.” “they will be more than happy to help out, I’m certain” you know how Pom-Pom is excited to be needed and they will probably be overjoyed to have such a sweet request. you depart your lips to say how he had you jealous over a flower but the words die down in your throat as you two don’t break eye contact, you smile. it is a personal, romantic moment, belonging only to you two. he blinks, smiling as well, surprisingly he also states something similar to your thoughts- which is quite unlike him, “you had me jealous over a flower. kissing it so… gingerly.” Dan Heng chuckles dryly. “will you kiss me as tenderly as it?” he makes a simple hushed plea.

“always” you move closer, your nose brushing past his, making your lips meet. and you could swear they feel softer than the tulip’s petals and taste sweeter than the flower’s nectar.

[p-receh]

AMAZING EPISODE EPISODNYA BEST BANGET DKJDOFJOFJFODNKFKFKFI

I am not ok, BELIUNGGGGGG

What was your fav part? Mine? ALL OF IT

3 things.

1. ALL SEVEN ELEMENTALS BEIBEEEEEEEEH!!!!!

Not one by one like the comic counterpart, but literally Boboiboy used a freaking Hepta Split!

Tbh my expectations were low cause I was skeptical that Monsta not want to bring them after that last ep (link). But HOLY SHIT WTF???!!!!

I am absolutely jumping in my seat like a football supporter, I can't--

They got short screen time--I DON'T CARE. They still got a chance to team up once again after a whole 8 years since the first movie! Besides, that movie also shortened their screen time.

Whoever decided to make Oboi's armor resemble an ant needs a raise. That's freaking clever.

Btw it seemed their hats were locked with Oboi's position. Also, Hali, and Duri were the only elements that used their sword? Interesting...

"Kembali Beraksi" rearrangge version in the background during the whole scene?? Yes please!!!

Even though it is just short, their portrayal somehow solidified my deduction about the elementals.

Anywho I am still in tears that they finally showed up on screen again. That is my personal wishlist ever since when they announced the show. I am already satisfied with that alone tbh (like really, why should Monsta need to cut that part where they were essentially the big part of the promotion during the Windara comic arc??)

2. Finally Monsta went bold.

Oh, I looooooove that moment. Monsta started to not hold back and I am captivated by every single one of it. The dying scene was well executed, all voice actors were perfect, and this scene reminds me of this.

In my opinion, this scene was also a test for their next project which honestly more dark and horror(the most horror arc throughout the galaxy series for me)

3. IT IS TIME FOR BELIUUUUUNG!!!!

Can I say Nurfathiah Diaz as Beliung here was downright phenomenal? Like holy shit, this is by far her best performance imo, yet.

Her voice acting was blown me away and I could see her improvement from Taufan's first debut to Beliung's was....I'm-I'm lost for words right now.

Look at this line delivery! (Her laugh felt diabolical and I love it.)

"Tuanku yang seksa penduduk planet ni, paksa orang tua dan budak-budak kerja di lombong, tapi saye yang biadab?!"

Edit: Turns out she was pregnant when recording Beliung??

My Respect to her went rocket. Wow.

As a person who watch her performance since the very first season of Upin&Ipin until Boboiboy... I couldn't be more proud :')

And the animation team seriously packed the action right to the tea! Reramos was absolutely blasted the whole way by Beliung. He's as ruthless as Taufan's OG era!

See? See??? Being patient is worth it guys. Therefore I was easily enjoyed the design choice of Beliung's TV ver without seeing leaks.

Taufan's upgraded board also acted as weapons and wings? Genius. And also directly parallel to the first fight with Maripos. He even said this:

The way Beliung flies on his board almost looks like this.

Now I am 100% ready for other 3rd tier designs if this is what Monsta decides to continue on.

(oh I will draw this with the cyber Sonic for sure.)

To end this, Monsta decided to some sort of "invite" Oboi and Kuputeri into a small dark room, purposely to give a more in-depth conversation between the two, linked by Kuputeri's telepath power.

In my opinion, I prefer this strategy rather than the comic counterpart. Cause in a way, Monsta wants to show the bond between Kuputeri and Oboi as same as how Tok Kasa did with him in movie 2. Symbolize by placing the hat as they entrusted their power to the very same boy.

It might be exaggerating but that jumbled corrupted effect when Beliung's struggled? Impressive. Even more impressive that Monsta knowingly used the same effect when "finally" showcasing Beliung's card.

Speaking of ads, now they released the merchandise after the debut.

Talk about self-aware :/

Everything's not perfect and I do have slight issues, but honestly? I'm pretty satisfied with this episode! They ended it nicely done!

Lastly—

Are they not use DWIFUSION as their next title? If so, Gentar arc and Baraju arc are separated! Thank god! My biggest worry apparently will not come true! Alhamdulillah!!

PS: Oh wow, would you look at those numbers! 2 million within 3 hours when I screenshot this. What an impressive improvements.

[lavenoon]

Hello, I snuck some time to read and AHHHHH! So many little things that I love about all this! Robin does need that time to figure stuff out, even though it probably hurt them a lot to do it by themselves, and we see some of the consequences in the dream in Lingering Concern.

It's something I really love about them actually! They are really bold and reckless sometimes, and super confident, but the points in which they are insecure can be crushing to them. And it would make sense that usually they don't see the need to deal with those (or maybe even notice them) because of the nature of their job and how they were pretty isolated before the boys' arrival, but now they are hit with all the force of it and the fact that they do not handle it well at all after all. In the end, the three of them ended up unintentionally hurting each other, and all of them have their regrets, but they are on their way to mend it all now, at least!

I also liked how the accident Sun and Moon were in is sort of symbolic in a way! Things, literally and metaphorically, blew up in their faces, and sure, perhaps with enough time they could all heal by themselves, but it's together that they can achieve it faster. They all really needed to hear they hadn't made the other hate them.

I loved that Sun was quick to not let them keep apologizing and blaming themself by pointing out the funny coincidences XD Immediately letting his cheeky self show too haha! Also, really loved the "They are both me" line! Not only because it's a good way for Moon to make a point, but also I squinted a little wondering if perhaps it was a way to confirm about his particular worry. Asking if it's Robin or y/n whose more real, because he still was hurt by thinking Robin might actually not like him at all and the sweet neighbor got the "true" opinion on the matter. But now they all know! And even though there are more things to address, at least they can be assured that there's no need to run or hide and they can work on them together!

Amazing work as always, Luce!

HEHE glad you found the time!! <3

It certainly wasn't an ideal situation - but it was the way they had to figure it out. That's just how things are sometimes, and it's just the fallout they set themself up for, their only two pillars of support being who they need distance from to process!

And yup! Reminder to reread Lingering Concern, because now you guys have all the context! <3

Y/N was super isolated, and they didn't even think it's an issue - that's a lot of trust issues and loneliness they repressed, and it all comes back to hit them in the face when they go back to that after having close friends for the first time in years, plus the added anxiety about everything else! AU is just a long elaborate story that ends with "everyone gets a family" <3

AND YES YES THANK YOU I am so proud of the theme of the bomb - almost unreasonably, maybe. Shrapnel for the immediate reaction, Settling Dust for the slightly calmer outlook, Landmine for when things surprisingly get even worse, and then First Aid (where the actual bomb goes off) gets actual first aid - for all the emotional and physical consequences!

Sun was a tad more forgiving with Y/N - Moon got to be a little snappy, a bit harsher - but he didn't see them literally burst through the door and then collapse into tears of relief upon seeing him again. It's a big dose of reassurance, and for Sun that just means he really doesn't need to linger with all the guilt and regret. Of course they still talk - get some things out, clear up misunderstandings. But most importantly for him is the assurance that Y/N doesn't want them to leave. His anxiety is about the future.

Moon needed to hear that they do know him, that he knows them, and that he doesn't have to reassess all they went through together. Of course he's also worried about the future - but only because he's not sure he can trust the past. They address their specific worries, and Y/N gets the full dose of everything. Their boys won't leave, and they always cared <3

Glad it hit the spot! It was tons of fun writing it, or I wouldn't have gotten lost in the word count like that GFDHSJ

[bisexual-horror-fan]

lets give you some amber self indulgence. for research purposes. all of these questions of course imagine a why at the end of, but don't feel like you have to elaborate.

five colors you think are representative of amber?

what are some symbols that represent her in her mind?

what are her five comfort songs?

what would her perfect bedroom look like?

her favorite scent?

what fills her with the most nostalgia?

what's a moment she wishes she could change but knows it has to be?

if she got three wishes, what would she wish for?

besides being a blorbos, an oc, and all around amazing character, what does she mean to you?

i love you so much and i can't wait to see the answers!

Oh man this is so fucking exciting! What a great ask! I am so excited to go off on this, to just really delve into some interesting questions about Amber! So thanks up top for asking this! Now let’s get into it!  Amber rambles under the cut!

Five colours you think are representative of Amber?

So the first two are obvious, red and green, the same colours as a certain guy’s sweater. Red is so obviously her colour overall, she looks amazing in red, clothes or nails or lipstick, it just suits her so well and green, well Amber has always loved the colour green. Long before him. She would sit in the backyard of her family’s home often, would love to read in her mother’s garden, she loves flowers and trees and plant life of all kinds, green brings calm and it looks fantastic on her too, she comes alive in green. Orange, bright and bold, fiery and the colour of her hair. I also think that a frosty sort of blue one that makes you think of winter fits her, reminds you of her eyes and of the big sky where her office building and apartment building stretches into. And the last one is white, like the blouses she wears to work often, of the bed sheets she regularly gets blood stains out of.

What are some symbols that represent her in her mind?

Things that represent her, hmmm! Let me think, when I think of herrrr. I think of the smell of smoke and whiskey served neat, of pretty but sharp manicures. I think of laughing so hard you snort and of a girl who is one of the nicest people you’ve ever met while drunk in a club bathroom. I think of the sound of heels on concrete and self confidence and high rise apartments. I think of strong coffee and sweet pastries and fashion forward business wear. I think of doing things you shouldn’t, having fun secrets, even if they are only with yourself. 

What are her five comfort songs?

Amber loves musicals, she got the love of them from her mother, one of the few things that they had in common and bonded over, a safe topic for the pair of them to this day. The first musical she was shown was The Wizard Of Oz and corny as it may be, and as much as she doesn’t spread it around, Somewhere Over The Rainbow means a fuck ton to her and really loves that song. Especially when she started to hate her hometown and desperately wanted out, a better place, a place she could be herself finally. She still listens to it sometimes now that she IS in that better place, living how she wants. 

Her favourite song, in her favourite musical is from Chicago, We Both Reached For The Gun, she loves the patter of it, the energy, she thinks it is irreplaceable in the musical theatre canon as a whole. Chicago was the first show she ever saw on an actual Broadway stage and was smitten. Get a few drinks in and ask her about Chicago and you’ll be treated to her going off about her thoughts, feelings, Roxy Hart herself and that Bob Fosse’s choreography needs more credit. 

When that break happened, that long two year break where she was away from Freddy, over that time the song Cry by MIKA was like a pseudo break up song because she didn’t know IF he was ever coming back, if this was it. She cried a lot to that song, poured over it, and now it has taken on a different meaning now that he IS back and everything is fine, it doesn’t hurt to listen to it.

She loves the song Fantasy by Mariah Carrey more than she probably should, listens to it often when getting ready to go out, ever since getting with a certain someone, it has taken on more meaning, clearly. Mostly it is a fun song that makes her feel really good.

Sweet Relief by Kimbra makes her want to dance like nothing else, the amount of times she has worked out on her pole to that song is like, too many to count. If she is feeling down, this is the go-to, the fix her mood song.

What would her perfect bedroom look like?

This is a good one! I think honestly, probably a mix of her current bedroom and the playroom she sees Freddy in. She loves her bedroom’s big windows, the walk-in closet, her vanity, laid out with her jewellery and makeup, the hardwood floors and the reading corner. She loves the bed in the playroom the best, it is like a conversation pit you might see in the 70s but a bed, big, circular, built into the ground, pillows and blankets and impossibly soft, she feels so relaxed there, more so than anywhere else. If she could have the colour scheme of the playroom, lots of shades of red and white, the bed and the other parts of her room she adores, it would be perfect.

Her favourite scent?

She loves this one type of candle that is made at a little shop in her hometown, she stocks up whenever she goes back. The candle is Pink Grapefruit, it is sweet and citrusy and has surprising depth, she loves it.

What fills her with the most nostalgia?

Hearing the music from an ice cream truck. It reminds her of hot sticky summer days, eating sweet treats in the garden and reading, reminds her of rewards she bought herself after tough soccer games and swim practices and meets. It reminds her of the better parts of her childhood, when everything was easy and simpler and she had no complaints about her family or where she lived.

What's a moment she wishes she could change but knows it has to be?

Amber almost got a full swim scholarship in high school. Almost. She missed the meet the scouts were supposed to be at, through no fault of her own, the bus broke down, she was extremely upset about it at the time. She got a loan and went to college on her own terms and as much as she wishes she could have done that meet, and kicked ass and won her scholarship. Looking back on it going to college on her own merit was better, able to focus on herself and not be tied down by any vestiges of her past, there was massive pressure from her family to be a lot of things, a good athlete was one, shirking that when she went to college was definitely better for her in the long run. 

If she got three wishes, what would she wish for?

Now this is a good question. Amber has so much of what she wants already but let’s drill down into this. Number one, she would wish to know if her sister is REALLY happy with her station in life or if she wants a life more like Amber, more freedom, not so tied down. Number two, she would wish for the uncanny ability to get tickets to whatever she wants, concerts, movies, shows, plays, whatever, she hates ever feeling like she misses out on something. And last, there is this vintage cream Valentino skirt she is obsessed with and feels a hole in her closet without it and would literally kill to have one in her size. 

Okay, okay and the big one! What does Amber mean to me?

So again, I have said that I started The Man Of My Dreams on a whim, I didn’t know what Amber looked like at first, she didn’t have a name until chapter three of the story for fucksake. I figured her out along the way and fell in love with her in a big way, for how she is, what she did for me. TMOMD was the first fic I ever wrote, because of it I found this community and my passion for writing, because of it I met so many wonderful people like you, Bug! And whoever else is reading this. I made amazing friends, have pushed myself a lot creatively, experienced so much happiness and more that I never would have, without this funky little red-headed porn protagonist. And as much as I say that, we all know she is more than that, a lot, lot more than that.

Amber means a lot to me because well she is the kind of person I think I am and continually strive to be! Someone who is enthusiastic, funny, unapologetic, thoroughly herself and full of love and self confidence, kindness and willing to help others and of course, unflinching and unashamed in her sexuality and body. Being able to write a character like her and have so many people just love her, see her, identify with her or call her things like sweet or warm, it means so much! I love that I wrote a bunch of porn with some feelings and people fell for her. It makes me feel good, like I did something really right, I am glad she can be so much for so many people because she is so much in so many ways to me. 

How she views and feels about sex is very similar to myself as well and this is just reminding me I need to do a big post talking about that already, maybe soon!

Thank you again so much for this Bug, I loved thinking so hard about this and going in so hard on it! Hope you like the Amber rambling. I love you!

[miyacreampie]

Lenny sensei's night class has begun!~♡

“Senpai~♡”

synopsis 💭;; Tanaka gets jealous bc some bitch talking to his man.

note 🖋️;; IT TOOK A WHOLE FUCKIN WEEK TO WRITE THIS. WHY DOES WORK ALWAYS PREVENT ME FROM DOING THE THINGS I LIKE? WHAT THE ACTUAL FU- by the way, ‘Isayama Misaki’ is based off of some asswipe I used to know- also, I ran out of ideas at the end, so it kinda cuts of lf at the good part. I apologize to the anon that requested this.

Requested by anon ♡

Male pronouns used

Tanaka wasn't a jealous man. Or at least he'd like to think so.

(Y/n) was pretty popular around campus, so it wasn't a surprise to see a few fangirls here or there. It kinda reminded him of Oikawa—except (Y/n) didn't exactly pay his fangirls any attention. (And he didn't have an ass as flat as printer paper.) But did that stop them from trying to get into his pants? No.

In all honesty, Ryu felt lucky that he had someone like (Y/n) as a boyfriend, although he didn't like the fangirls—who paid him no mind whenever they were together. It annoyed him that they kept surrounding (Y/n) who clearly wanted nothing to do with them, begging him for dates, one night stands, anything.

To say that Tanaka was mildly uncomfortable was an understatement.

🌇🌇

Today was a bit different. Instead of a crowd of women rushing towards (Y/n), it was just one—; Misaki Isayama. The woman (almost) every guy considered perfect. This was...manageable, but what did she want? Well—at least it was only one girl. He had only woken up a little over an hour ago, and wasn't exactly ready for his simps just yet.

“(L/n)-chan, can you help me study for the science exam that's coming up?”

“Just because you're my upperclassman, doesn't mean you can call me that.” (Y/n) said quietly, rubbing his eyes, then yawning. “I'm on my way to the lecture hall though, so maybe after that? I should be fully awake by then..”

Misaki smiled and nodded her head. “It's a date!”

“No. No it's not.”

🏙️🏙️

Tanaka let (Y/n) lean on him during the lecture. That turned into one sided cuddling from the sleepy man. Ryu thought it was cute how (Y/n) always clung to him when he was sleepy. He was a little sad when (Y/n) fully awoke, and let him go, but it was for the best.

“Oh, Ryu-san. I'm tutoring the rumored ‘perfect woman’, and it's gonna be awkward with just the two of us, so can y—”

“You headin to the library? I was on my way there anyway. I'll join ya.”

The (h/c) haired man nodded, and they both walked all the way to the other side of the schoolyard to the library building. Tanaka even held (Y/n)'s hand to flex on the girls they passed by. Some of the girls were noticeably annoyed or a little angry, which pleased him.

When they finally arrived, Misaki was standing by the door. Upon seeing Ryu, she scowled. But it was only for a second.

“Ah, (L/n)-kun..who's this?”

(Y/n) smiled, oblivious to Misaki and Tanaka glaring at each other. Needless to say, the intense atmosphere went right over his head. “This is my boyfriend..Tanaka. He'll be joining us if that's okay.”

“‘Perfect woman’ my ass..the only ‘perfect woman’ I know is Kiyoko-san.” Tanaka mumbled under his breath. (Y/n) may not have known, but Misaki and Tanaka were always competitive with each other. Other times he wouldn't have cared, but now that (Y/n) is what he's fighting for, he wasn't gonna back down.

“Oh, it's fine.” Misaki said through gritted teeth.

🏙️🏙️

Isayama and Tanaka were left sitting at a table alone, while (Y/n) searched for the science books. They sat in complete silence, but it was almost as if you could hear their thoughts—mentally arguing with one another.

(Y/n) returned with three books, seating himself between Isayama and Ryu. “Okay! Let's get started!”

***

As (Y/n) went on explaining the laws of physics (because Tetsurou used to tutor him), Misaki and Tanaka continued their epic staring battle. The battle ended once they noticed that (Y/n) had stopped talking. He was chewing his tongue in thought, trying to figure out how to pronounce a word.

Misaki didn't notice, but (Y/n) had gone from physics, to microbiology. In less than five minutes.

“Something wrong?”

“How do you say this word again..?” The (e/c) eyed man pointed to a bolded word in the textbook, leaning back a bit so the other two could see.

A suffocating silence reigned over the three of them, but only for about three seconds.

Isayama squinted a bit before she spoke. “Endothelial?”

“Oh yeah. Thanks, senpai.”

Isayama smiled smugly at Ryuunosuke. The said man had a visible tick mark (💢) on the side of his head, symbolizing his annoyance. Tanaka only wanted (Y/n) to call him ‘senpai’—even if they were the same age (if not, then (Y/n) might be older). It made him feel like he was a dependable upperclassman, maybe even a bit turned on in certain situations. But hearing (Y/n) call someone else senpai..made him a little sad.

His thoughts were interrupted by his phone vibrating. As Tanaka reached into his pocket to get his phone, he caught (Y/n) putting his own phone in his jacket pocket. Tanaka turned on his phone to see a message from (Y/n) in his recent notifications.

Pretty boy💖: Go to the bathroom. I'll join you later.

Although he was a bit confused, he got up from his chair. “‘M gonna go take a leak.” Ryu said as he started to make his way towards the men's restroom.

Almost five minutes pass before (Y/n) goes into the bathroom after Tanaka, telling Misaki that he was checking on him. As soon as (Y/n) had passed the first bathroom stall, he was yanked into the second one, the door locking almost immediately after it shut behind him. He wasn't given any time to react before he felt a familiar pair of soft lips violently smash against his own. (Not violent enough to make his mouth bleed or anything. Chill.)

A heated battle for dominance arose between the two, (Y/n) quickly taking the lead as he gently bit Ryu's lip.

They didn't want this to end, but eventually Tanaka had to break the kiss because he couldn't breathe. He stood there, breathless in his boyfriend's arms, not wanting (Y/n) to let go.

“Ryuunosuke..” Tanaka flinched upon his first name being said—even though (Y/n) said it many times before. His reaction brought a smile to (Y/n)'s face. “I love you~..” He said, drawing out the three words in a sing-song voice.

Ryu felt his legs getting weak, and held onto (Y/n) for dear life. (Somewhat out of fear that he might fall.) He wasn't actually feeling like this because of three words...right? “Babe..am I supposed to be kinda horny right now?” It was a bit of a strange question, but hey, it never hurts to ask.

(Y/n) chuckled. “Well, yeah. I might have to carry you out of here once we're done.” His warm smile from earlier didn't falter as he spoke.

‘How can he say something like that so casually? If I say something like that, I'd get d–’ Ryu's thoughts were snapped away when he felt his chest touch the stall divider and his pants being pulled down. He let out a soft moan as (Y/n) stroked him through his boxers.

🏙️

‘What the hell is taking them so long?!’ Isayama got up from where she sat, and went to the men's bathroom. There wasn't anyone around, so no one would see her going in. She opened the first stall's door. ‘If they ditched me, I swear to go–’

“W-Wait, (Y/n)!~ Haa!~♡”

“Geez senpai, you're so wet inside~..♡”

Misaki froze. She couldn't be sure that it was (Y/n) and Tanaka in there—but those were definitely Tanaka's pants hanging over the second stall's door. Now she felt more..curious than angry. Isayama slipped into the first stall, carefully and quietly closing the door behind her, and slowly locking it so it didn't make noise.

Ryu tried to keep his breathing steady as (Y/n) fucked him with his fingers—even though that did absolutely nothing to help his current situation. Hell, he couldn't even process words anymore. The only actual word he could say was his boyfriend's name. He eventually remembered how to speak after about two minutes of being finger-fucked.

He wanted to sound more demanding, but his voice came out more whiny than what he'd have liked it to. “Fuck me already..ya fuckin– Hng!~” It may have been that he couldn't process it, or that (Y/n) had moved at the speed of sound, but Tanaka wasn't able to register how fast (Y/n) pulled his fingers out, and shoved his cock into his still tight hole. He wanted to say something, but all that came out was a choked whine.

“You were saying?~♡” (Y/n) asked, though it sounded more like a demand than a question.

Tanaka wasn't given a chance to answer due to (Y/n) ruthlessly fucking the poor man senseless. His loud whines and moans echoed throughout the bathroom, much to (Y/n)'s pleasure. He wanted everyone to know that he was a taken man. He wanted everyone on campus to hear Ryuunosuke's pleasurable cries.

Hearing the two men fucking in the next stall turned Isayama on to no end. (Even though it was more of (Y/n)'s voice that made her wet.) But she resisted touching herself because she wouldn't be able to forgive herself if she masturbated to her rival getting fucked. (A kinda stupid reason, but okay.)

“Fu–fuck, (Y/n)!~ So good..it feels so good!~” Ryu babbled, the words almost incoherent as he attempted to push back against his boyfriend's cock. “More!~ Give me more!~♡” He begged, voice broken and choking on his own breath.

The (e/c) eyed man didn't say a word. As his senpai had politely asked of him, (Y/n) drove his cock so deep into Tanaka that the said man let out the loudest drawn out moan (Y/n) had ever heard from him. If it weren't for the cum spewing from the teary eyed man, (Y/n) would've thought he had hurt his lover. He wasn't entirely sure until he felt Ryu continue to push back against him, desperate for more friction.

“Aww..you're so cute when you act like a bitch in heat, senpai~..♡”

He only got a choked whine in response.

“I'm pretty close anyway..do you want it inside?~♡” (Y/n) asked, pulling the shaky man up to his chest. Again, only a whine. (Y/n) parted Ryu's lips with his fingers, those fingers soon being coated in saliva. “Use your words~..”

Finally, Tanaka spoke, despite his unintentional dry heaving. “Fuck me- please~..”

“As you wish~♡” (Y/n) almost whispered, gripping Tanaka's cock firmly, earning another broken moan from the said man. “You're the only person I'd fuck like this, you know that, right?” He said, as he rubbed the shorter man's stomach.

“Y-Yeah..that makes me happy~..”

Lmao this was like- 80% highschool drama (in a college setting), and the remaining 20% being me getting horny for no reason. Also, I'm aware this made no sense. None of the stuff I write makes sense. :)

The class session is now over!~♡

[yoonsshadow]

Strike! - OT7

❥ prompt ; ‘could you please do an ot7 where they all go bowling or to the arcade together? (I also love your eternals series so much!!)’ sent in by @deathbybigsisrory​ 

❥ pairing ; ot7 x fem!reader

❥ genres ; non-idol!au, rom-com, friends-to-[future]-lovers, [they’re not together yet but everyone is very much in love]

❥ themes ; fluff!!

❥ warnings ; none

❥ word count ; 1.7k

❥ note ; Thank you so much for the submission!!! (And also thank you for your sweet words darling xx) I may have strayed a little from the prompt, but I hope you still like it. I haven’t been bowling since I was like 11, so I’m sorry if some details are incorrect. I have never been to an arcade, so I thought this was the safer option. [this isn’t edited]

Somewhere, in the back of your subconscious, is a loud knocking.

It’s a rapid noise, insistent and forceful, but the dream you’re submerged in is far too pleasant to pay it any heed. It will go away eventually.

Except it doesn’t.

As you’re lying in the paradise of a warm coastal beach, mermaids off the coast and dragons in the distant sky, muffled yells are lost in the ambience of crashing waves and mer-song. You are so incredibly comfortable on this beach chair. You think, perhaps, that you’d happily stay here for an eternity.

Eternity does not last very long.

Your idyllic fantasy dissolves the instant hands shake your hunched shoulders, voices now louder in your ear as you are rocked from your sleep. It aches to move, to be moved, but soon you are sitting upright rather than folded over your desk, cheek pressed into papers.

“Hey there, sleepyhead.” Namjoon’s deep timbre vibrates through you; shocks you into clarity faster than your mind is ready.

“Hmrrfh?” Is your unintelligible response. He seems to understand.

Seokjin is crouched beside you, one hand on the back of your office chair, the other on your knee. “I thought you said that you were finished with your work.” You rub your eyes and yawn as he speaks, quickly taking notice of the other figures in the room. “You were supposed to have a break, remember?”

You hum. “I don’t get paid to take breaks, I get paid to have my work done by the deadline. Which is soon, might I add, so I’ll have to rain-check today. Sorry.”

“Nope.” It’s Yoongi who speaks this time. In the next moment, your office chair is rolled away from the desk and into the group of men who have somehow entered your home. Which reminds you-

“How did you even get in?”

“We found the spare key,” Taehyung says, as if the fact should be obvious.

“Yeah,” Jimin adds, “when you didn’t respond to our knocks and calls we thought you might be dead or something. Ggukie damn near kicked the door down when Namjoon-hyung lifted up the doormat.”

“Terrible hiding spot, Y/N,” Namjoon says. You can tell that he’s trying to sound disappointed, but he looks just a little too endeared.

Moving in front of you, Hoseok flashes you a warm smile. His eyes become crescents, his lips a heart, and your fingers twitch with the want to reach forward and caress his cheek. You don’t.

“There’s no way you’re getting out of today,” he says without a hint of malice. “You need a day to relax, and we haven’t seen our girl in far too long. So, will you be coming willingly, or by force?”

“But-” Your protests are cut off.

“By force it is. Gguk.”

Your vision is suddenly filled by a broad chest as thick arms sweep you from your seat. Gravity has no effect on the young man who now holds you bridal style, nor on the Bambi smile that naturally grows on his face.

“We’re going to have so much fun today,” Jeongguk says, muscles flexing around you as they all begin walking towards your bedroom. You have no doubt that Hoseok and Taehyung already have an outfit planned for you, and you even hear the bath beginning to run.

Your boys never fail to look after you. God, you care for them so much.

[You won’t admit to yourself that you may feel something deeper. Not yet. But one day, perhaps soon, you’ll realise that you don’t have to be afraid of that feeling.]

Retro music swirls around you as your group makes their way towards your assigned lane. Bowling shoes in hand and a competitive spirit growing, a weight seems to melt off of your shoulders.

All thoughts of work, of responsibilities, have simply disappeared.

“How are we going to decide teams?” Namjoon looks around the group, as if calculating a mathematic equation. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

Yoongi scoffs. “We’ll be here forever if we do that. Let’s just do Hyungs versus Youngs.”

While Jeongguk, Taehyung and Jimin are cheering at the quick resolution, you lift a brow at the unbothered man. “But what do I call your team then, Yoongi oppa?”

For a moment, he says nothing, merely ducking his head to hide the rosy tint that dusts across his cheeks. Hoseok is the one who steps in to answer, clapping a harsh hand on Yoongi’s back as if to wake him from a trance.

“We can come up with team names!”

Jimin jumps up and down, wide beam blinding you all. “We are team Young and Beautiful!”

“No, we should be Bold and Beautiful! Like that American hand-wash show,” Taehyung suggests, equally as enthusiastic.

Namjoon sighs. “It’s soap opera, Tae.”

“What about Y/N’s Angels?” Jeongguk seems to be thinking hard, ever competitive even in the sport of picking a team name. “Because we are angelic, and Y/N bosses us around.”

That lands him a swift chop to the neck, much to his giggling delight.

“We are the Young, Bold, and Beautiful Angels,” you decide, rolling your eyes. “And what about your team?”

Seokjin does not hesitate to announce: “We are team Kim Seok Jin!”

Yoongi sighs, but doesn’t object, and Hoseok leans his forehead on Namjoon’s shoulder as if he needs the support to keep standing.

“Thank you for consulting the rest of the team about this decision, Jin-hyung,” Namjoon says, deadpan but not upset.

“You should be thankful that I’m allowing you to use my name at all,” Seokjin replies, hands on hips. “It is, after all, a national symbol of good luck.”

“National...?” You mumble.

Jimin groans out a sigh, easily bored and antsy to win. “Can we just play already? We don’t need to have a board meeting every time we make a decision.”

“Let’s go hold some heavy balls!” Jeongguk then grabs your elbow and drags you to the bowling ball racks, uncaring that you’ve only laced one of your shoes on.

“Do you need me to teach you how to bowl?” Jeongguk’s voice in your ear startles you as you stand in front of your lane, ready to go. The pink ball is heavy in your hand when you turn around to glare at him.

“I know how to bowl, Gguk. Now shoo, I need to concentrate.”

“Yes, but do you know how to bowl properly? Like a pro?”

“I am this close to dropping this ball on your toes, don’t test me.”

“Pleeease? C’mon, just this once?”

Damn him and his doe eyes. “Fine. Just once. But you’re going to buy me a plate of nacho fries.”

“Deal.”

You shouldn’t be surprised when he stands behind you and circles his arms around yours, but you do jolt a bit when his hands touch your waist.

“Some people think that it’s the wrist movement that’s most important, but really, it’s the hips. Even if you mess up the bowl, if your hips are at the right angle, you can’t really go wrong.”

“I’m pretty sure wrist movement is actually pretty important.”

The man has the nerve to shush you. “Angle your hips like this,” fingertips press into the soft flesh over your hipbones, “and then take three steps before you let go of the ball. The trick is to start with your non-dominant foot, so that when you bowl, your dominant leg isn’t in the way.”

Sighing, you humour the youngest and stride away from him, following his steps and then releasing the ball from your grip.

It lands a perfect strike.

Jeongguk walks back to the group with a smug smile and a pep in his step, while you simply chuckle at his pride. Meanwhile, the other boys are glaring at him.

“So,” Hoseok says as you wait for your ball to return so that you can have your second go, “are we all going to be allowed to teach you? Or is this favouritism?”

Heaving a deep sigh, you look up to the ceiling as if it, or any higher being, may give you an answer as to why you’ve chosen these seven as your favourite people.

Deep down you know why, but it’s times like these that make you question yourself.

It’s also times like these that make you feel impossibly endeared.

Night has crept up on you by the time the boys drop you back at your apartment, ribs aching from laughter and cheeks sore from smiles. No tension resides in your muscles, in your bones, or even in your mind; you feel as though you are floating, ears brushing against the clouds, with how light you are right now.

“You have to promise that you won’t do any work until tomorrow,” Namjoon says, watching you dig through your bag for your keys. 

“After a full night of sleep,” Yoongi adds.

Seokjin then says, “And a nice, big breakfast.”

“And plenty of water!”

“And a comforting shower- Or a bubble bath!”

“And you have to take plenty of breaks.”

“Maybe we can drop by at lunch to make sure you eat-”

“Would it be better if we stayed over tonight?”

“Why don’t you just stay with us? We can help you-”

“Guys.” Your voice is sturdy as it cuts through the overlapping voices of seven worried men, all eyes turned to you as you stand in your open doorway. “I appreciate the concern, truly, but I’m a big girl. What happened yesterday - well, this morning - was a one-off. I assure you that I can take care of myself.”

You’re met with silence that sounds an awful lot like doubt.

“But,” you sigh, “maybe you can come over for lunch?”

Gleeful voices whoop into the night air, and you have to bite back your laughter as you hurriedly hush them, wary of your neighbours.

One by one, you give them a hug and a kiss on the cheek as you exchange farewells, peeling the younger ones off of you as you tell them that yes, I really do have to go inside now.

It’s only when you’ve closed the front door behind you, leaning on the wall beside you, that you come to the full, unafraid realisation.

You are in love with them. And you think they might love you back.

End

[neo-shitty]

all the muggle things. — c.s

description. in which you and san spent the rest of your days after hogwarts getting the muggle experience.

pairings. slytherin!choi san x gender-neutral (wizard) reader (yes, this fic is house friendly)

genre. harry potter/hogwarts!au, fluff

warnings. mentions of injury. 

word count. 1.6k

writer’s notes. i don’t know why i never thought of writing a harry potter-inspired au before! also, it’s been a while since i’ve written for ateez. i hope this didn’t turn out so bad! 

inspired by option #1 (roommates au) + prompt #36 from this list (given by @kathyrncapp835​)+ prompt #46 from @ficscafe​‘s dialogue prompt event (given by @meaningfulmess​). prompt lines are bolded.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾  TERMINOLOGY GUIDE :: for the muggles, explained and simplified by yours truly

Muggle - someone who isn’t able to use magic / non-wizard

Lumos - spell that makes the tip of a wizard’s wand light up

Quidditch - a game for wizards that involves flying on brooms and shooting balls through hoops, basically basketball but more complex because there are three hoops and someone’s trying to catch an ‘i-am-speed’ ball that dictates the fate of the game in the end

Sectumsempra - a spell that lacerates the opponent

Wizarding War - the war between Voldemort’s side and Harry’s

Dark Mark - Voldermort’s mark

Nox - counter spell to Lumos that switches the wand’s light off

You tried your best to peer your eyes open when you heard the front door slam shut. You groaned, infuriated at how such simple tasks like breathing and opening your eyes required extra effort whenever you were sick. But getting sick was merely a consequence of your own actions, so you really didn’t have anyone else to blame but yourself.  

You managed to open one eye, fighting back the heavy eyelid that threatened to shut and you searched the room for other movements besides your own. 

“It’s 2AM, go back to sleep,” a voice said. Soon, it’s owner emerged from the shadows of the doorway.

Dressed in his all-black work uniform was San. His whole figure blended into the background too well that it almost seemed like he’d apparated back to your place. But with the faint sound of his footfalls, you concluded that he used the muggle way in.

You turned your head. You considered turning your whole body but everything felt sore and heavy. Plus, you were content with the way the comforter was wrapped around you—which was rare, even on better days. You watched San pass by the living room before heading to the kitchen. Though you couldn’t see him from the living room couch, you could see the shadow casted on the floorboards by the kitchen light he switched on. It danced as he moved around, probably to get a late night snack before heading to bed. You could hear him uttering hushed incantations followed by the faint clattering of kitchen metals.

“I’m glad you didn’t burn the house down while I was gone,” he said from the kitchen.

A smile crept up to your lips at his statement. You opened your mouth to utter a small thank you but you could only manage a whisper. You weren’t even sure if he even heard it from that far.

Moments later, he reappeared by the kitchen doorway. “But you were cutting it a bit too close though,” he continued, clutching a frying pan in his right hand. 

The pan—originally gray—was now blackened from the mishap earlier. You had fallen asleep in the middle of cooking your own dinner, only waking up to the smell of burnt meat. The scent had been that thick that it managed to seep through your clogged nostrils. It was that bad. You ended up ordering take out instead. You forgot that you didn’t clean up the evidence.

A croaky laugh escaped your lips as you recalled the accident. San only shook his head, disappearing back into the kitchen to put the pan back to the sink. When he came back, he had two cups in hand. He walked over to set both down on their respective coasters on the glass center table of your living room. When he reached over to turn the lights on you stopped him.

“Don’t turn the lights on,” you said, your voice barely audible but he hears it, stopping before the lamp fully on. “They’re too bright. It’ll give me another headache.”

You see his silhouette nod. You could hear him flipping his coat around, shuffling to find something. You didn’t know what he was searching for exactly and you opted to ask him. But you soon find out what it was when you hear him whisper.

“Lumos.”

Where San stood, an orb of light began to glow. You soon realized that the light came from the tip of a stick. He was holding the fir wand in his hand, controlling its brightness until it was just right. Soon, it illuminated the room with a faint light—bright enough for you to see outlines of the room and the furniture scattered but not bright enough to make your eyes water like the lamps did.

He walked over to where you were before leaving his hand outstretched. “Sit up to drink your leaf water,” he said, earning a chuckle from you.

“Leaf water,” you repeated in a hoarse voice before taking his hand in yours, clutching it as you helped yourself up. You crossed your legs, tucking each foot beneath the opposite leg in order to give room on the couch for San to sit. 

He handed you your cup of tea before he sat adjacent to you with his own cup in one hand and his wand in the other. Your eyes lingered on the wooden stick he gripped in his hand and on the fingers he had wrapped around it. All his rings were silver, representing the complementing color of his house, Slytherin. Or that was what you remembered of him back when you were still studying at Hogwarts.

You recalled when you used to watch him play Quidditch. He always kissed his rings first before putting on his gloves. He was deemed one of the more valuable players next to their seeker and you were just another student from another house. It wasn’t until your last school year at Hogwarts when you first interacted. The first time you both went beyond the occasional glances you shared whenever you were both in the same class. 

Though your first time meeting wasn’t the best setting for the start of something new.

You were tending to one injury after another, working with the school nurse to cater every student who ran to the infirmary for aid or additional support in the form of potions. San had walked in alone and upon catching sight of his green sigil, your first instinct was to cast a spell to disarm him. But he didn’t have his wand raised, nor did he show any indications that he was about to attack. Your guard was up; he was still a Slytherin and fighting for the opposing side.

But he was still a student of the school with a bleeding arm. The rip on his upper sleeve revealed enough of  his wound for your body to move on its own without much guidance. You led him to the nearest vacant bed, letting him standby until you got everything you needed from the cabinets. 

In the time you were treating the wound, you learned that it took him half the war and a Sectumsempra to the arm (which was originally aimed at his chest; thankfully he was able to dodge it—barely) to realize that he was fighting for the wrong side of the Wizarding War. He was glad he was going to sit out the rest of it and vowed to—and you quote—“Never do stupid shit again.”.

The Dark Mark was still tattooed on his arm, a permanent reminder of decisions that did more harm than good both to him and to the people around him. The tattoo faded over time as the population of evil wizards gradually decreased. 

Your brain was hot-wired to never trust a Slytherin. Or at least, it used to be. 

Much to your surprise, San did keep his words that night at the infirmary. He spent his years after Hogwarts atoning for all the damage he’d caused, dedicating nearly all his hours into hunting the last of the witches and wizards who still practiced the Dark Arts. 

San shifted beside you, leaning against the back of the couch before turning to look at you. He set his mug back down to its coaster before he pressed his palm against your forehead. 

“I’m feeling a bit better, don’t worry. I think I’ll be fine by morning.”

“I still don’t get why you let yourself be sick when you can just—” he flicked his wand, “—it away.” 

You set your own mug down after taking a sip, only noticing then that he pulled out the matching Hogwarts house coasters. His furrowed expression softened when you held his hand, peeling it off your forehead before sandwiching it between your cold ones.

“I’m trying to experience muggle living,” you answered. 

Slytherins normally weren’t the type who liked involving themselves with muggle things, more so with the muggle way of living. But San wasn’t always like other Slytherins. Cheesy, you thought. But it was a fact.

You held his stare when his eyes landed on yours. You knew his mind was brewing some sort of egoistic line or anything short yet clever to say. But you were faster.

“You did well today,” you told him, drawing random shapes and symbols on the back of his palm.

Even after hearing it everyday for the past few years, San’s heart still warmed upon hearing the words leave your lips. 

You said it the first time at the infirmary. At first, you were unsure if you were saying it to yourself as he heard you utter it after you patched him up. Later that day, you reassured him that it was meant for him. San, at the time, wasn’t too keen on accepting it. Nothing about what he did that day was worth the praise. But he soon realized you were referring to his decision to right his mistakes instead of staying ignorant.

You haven’t stopped saying it since then. The phrase became more of a part of your routine over time but it still held the same value as the first time you ever said it. You still smiled softly after saying it and you still looked at him fondly like you were genuinely proud of it. San was trained to easily catch  whenever people lied—be it in the form of speaking or in acting. But he never found any trace of ingenuity whenever it came to you. 

Somehow, that was enough to convince him that he could still make up for mistakes made in the past. It wasn’t too late yet. 

You catch the moment the corner of his lips curved up into a smile. One sly finger up, you were ready to—once again—poke the dimple on the side of his mouth.

He hated that. But if he were to be honest, he could never really hate anything you did. One ‘Nox’ and a flick of his wand later, the light on the tip of his wand disappeared—plunging the both of you into complete darkness before your finger could even touch his skin.

“I hate you,” you muttered under your breath, drawing your hand back and crossing them over your chest.

You couldn’t see him clearly in the dark but you could tell the smirk from his tone, “Of course you do.”

© neo-shitty, 2021

[brownandblackpearls]

🦇𝒯he  𝒱isitor (Alucard Tepes x BlackReader) Pt.3

PART 3 SUMMARY:

You’re given a lackluster tour of Dracula’s castle that adds more questions than it answers, yet your quarters are beyond admirable and enough to forget the mysteries for just tonight. His ice is slowly melting, but not enough for you to see anything certain. To help speed things along, you decide to be a friendly guest and cook breakfast for the both of you.

─── Alucard x black female reader

─── imagery + fiction

─── explicit smut

─── Fantasy, vampires, hurt/comfort, enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, magic user, cute bats, gardening, cooking, cottagecore MC, castlecore Alucard.

☾ previous. ☾ next.

┌───────────━┿──┿━──────────┐

└───────────━┿──┿━──────────┘

Your host is as gracious as the circumstances allow, you begin to realize. As immense and as glorious as the few parts of the castle you’ve seen are, your host confides that they were once even grander. He speaks briefly of there being a battle of sorts. He doesn’t say when or why, despite prodding, but it helps to fill in some of the gaps you have.

Spying some of the deeper gouges and gashes in the tough stone, you can’t help but wonder exactly what he was battling.

“You won the battle, then...?” You ask.

“Something like that,” he says simply enough, but it reads rather ominously to your ears.

You pause as you follow him, trying your best not to sound too afraid. You hope no enemies from this past battle still sneak about...

“So it’s just you and I, here…?”

He turns on you slowly, and a familiar dread rises in your gut as you realize you’ve angered him once again. Unfortunately for you, you’re not sure how. His features appear natural and still, but what you are feeling under your skin hints at the truth to his demeanor. You catch a hint of fang as he speaks, and you wonder if it’s intentional.

“Yes. Does that suit your plans?”

You hesitate, unsure.

“I…’plans’? I don’t—“

“—Allow me to assist you. Silver is a trifle. Stakes are laughable. Garlic does nothing, and no holy symbol nor water—no matter what wayward priest you find to bless it—will help your cause. Sunlight is a pleasure to my skin, which heals from fire, knife wounds, and all other maladies in conception, if you even manage to pierce it. If a Belmont had trouble making me bleed, you surely will. The few things that I am susceptible to, are magic, decapitation, and stakes, but then again, who isn’t? I implore you to try though, and wish you luck. Believe me, you will need it.”

Like before, as if you’ve been transported back behind the walls of books, he is upon you, and you cannot help but tremble. The ruby red is back, flickering just behind his sunstorm eyes. You are beside yourself but you do your best to think quickly as to what nonexistent offense he’s percieved.

‘Does he think I mean to kill him? How even could he assume such a thing…? From me, of all people...?’

“I do not wish to make an attempt on your life,” you say slowly, clearly. “My magic is very poor, but not my behavior towards hosts kind enough to allow me in their homes.” You put a heavy emphasis on the ‘host’ portion, hoping to remind him of his promise from before.

“Enlighten me then,” he asks in a tone that seeks anything but enlightenment. “Why do you want to know if we are alone, if not to better plan something that would require isolation?”

You find yourself frowning.

“You…you completely misunderstand me, sir…” you begin, stepping back. “I just…I asked if we were alone because….I…I…”

Something in your face must call out to his reason, because the red drains out from his eyes and he steps away, reeling back. The grieved look returns.

“You’re afraid,” he realizes suddenly, aloud. “You want to ensure nothing else lurks in these walls.”

You nod, happy to be comprehended, for once.

“Yes,” you insist. “The damage from the battle...I see it, and I think that your foes were very strong. I only hope they were all defeated and that it is just you and I here, alone, sir—er, Alucard.”

He nods, looking somewhat embarrassed now.

“It is only us, in these walls.”

You sigh happily, glad to have your fears discarded. The castle was still scary and intimidating of course, as large as it was. It felt as though something had to be tiptoeing somewhere around in the fortress, yet...he would know the place better than you, wouldn’t he...? And if he says its just you two, then hopefully that is so.

“Good,” you sigh. 

He makes no move at the sound of his name in your mouth, but he does think on your words before bowing his head ever so lightly.

“I apologize,” he admits. “I keep...jumping to conclusions. I made you fret after giving my word. Forgive me.”

You watch him with pleasant surprise, the corner of your mouth quirking up. 

So there were manners somewhere in there.

“You’re forgiven. I’m sure you must have had a rough go of assassins, being who you are and all.”

“I’ve had my share,” he admits, before turning to advance through the corridor. You don’t have time to think about his ‘share’, trying to keep up. You know he can move far faster than he is showing now, and you appreciate the effort he makes to go at a human pace so that you may follow closely behind. 

Deep down, you are still worried about what lays in the castle. You do feel safer, knowing something supernatural like him is at your side, and vowed to make sure no harm befalls you.

“Well,” you continue conversationally, trailing after him, “thank you for soothing my concerns. I feel all the safer for it.””

“...Odd,” he comments. “Hm?”

“You, feeling safer alone in Dracula’s castle, with a dhampir.”

You chuckle.

“I suppose it is odd when you put it that way. Just work on that temper of yours, and I’ll really be right as rain!” The jest is funny enough for you, but it doesn’t land so well with your present company.

He scowls, but the real heat is gone. Energized from knowing he is bound by promise and that there are no others here, you feel bold enough to place an assuring hand on his arm. 

He feels strong and solid, like stone. He stiffens before pulling away, peering down at you.

You try your best not to look too hurt. You smile assuringly instead.

“Believe me, Alucard. I’m not here to try and do you in. I mean, look at me! You think I’m foolish enough to attempt such a thing on you when I could hardly handle that crowd of ruffians outside?”

You laugh then, slapping a hand on your leg. It is the bare one from the rip in your dress, and the smack is much louder than you anticipate. It’s enough to silence you into meek embarrassment.

Alucard simply watches you before turning around and leading you on.

You follow him silently now, and you quickly find that the tour is rather lacking. He says little about the winding halls you are led through, and you can’t help but wonder the stories of each hallway, of each room. Will you ever learn of them?

The place is monstrous, and so the soles of your feet are a bit sore by the time you reach what Alucard regards as your quarters.

“You will stay here,” he gestures past a large emblemed door into a wide room. 

You peer inside, finding a beautifully canopied bed, heavy curtains attached to what you can only assume is a gigantic window. There is a large bookcase, a fireplace, an armchair, a desk, and a small door leading into another room. 

“That is your bathing room,” he notes.

When you stare at him curiously, he explains.

“My father possessed immense technological advancements,” he says quickly, as if he’s explained it several times before. Perhaps he has.

‘So his father is Dracula,’ you think. ‘But the stories of Dracula were much more…gruesome and cruel. If this is his son...this man is certainly scary when roused, but…’

His deep voice breaks you out of your reverie.

“The washing room has a basin called a ‘tub’. There is also a bidet with a smaller basin called a toilet. No need for outhouses or bringing up jugs of water here. We have plumbing.”

Now, you’re utterly confused.

Alucard sighs.

“Just…follow me. I’ll show you.”

You do just that and watch, engrossed, as your host thoroughly lays out and points to every faucet, knob, and all of their uses. Before long, you ascend from a common traveling woman to an expert in an alternate world knowledgeable on things such as ‘plumbing’.

You beam at the tub and sink, too giddy with joy to hide it. You bounce a little, your hands drawing to your chest excitedly.

Alucard levels a raised brow at you, pausing.

“...Are you alright?”

You nod happily, twirling in the bathroom to face him.

“This place is incredible! Plumbing! Who would’ve thought? There was almost something like this I saw over the Eastern seas, but the people there called them…acq..acqueducts! They were these large beams that delivered their water…oh, but no matter! My hair! Goodness, it will be leagues easier…”

Alucard glances at your crown of curled, kinky locks before refocusing on you.

“How did you manage, before?”

“Oh, ponds. Streams. Rivers. The seaside. That sort of thing,” you say absently. “The chill of the water did wonders for my mane, but I felt like an icicle the entire time. And you say I can have heated, freshwater through these devices? I can’t lie, I’m ecstatic!”

Alucard nods shortly at that, watching you curiously, but seemingly unable to share your interest in the fixtures. Perhaps you’re more of an interest for him at this point than the plumbing. You eyeball his own healthy mane and assume he’s long been used to such luxuries.

“Oh, but…can I wash my garbs in the tub, too?”

Alucard tilts his head at that before realization sparks in his eyes.

“No. No, you’ll wear something else. That’s fairly ruined.”

You silently leave out the part that it is partially his fault, but he seems to catch on anyway.

“I…” he tries stiffly. “I apologize again. For before.”

“Oh?” You respond innocently. “For what? Scaring me? Yelling at me? Threatening my life? Tripping me?”

He sinks a little lower with each act. 

“All of it.”

“Oh! Well, then you’re forgiven. As much as I appreciate the apology, I have a feeling that this ‘tub’ will more than make up for it.”

Alucard seems to relax at that, showing you the cabinets with everything you’ll need.

“I’ll…” he trails off. “I’ll find you some clothing.”

He turns to leave, but you reach out to gently grip the tuft of white blouse peeking out from his sleeve. He turns, watching you sharply. 

He does not pull away, though. You call it progress.

“Alucard,” you say. “Thank you for your hospitality. Sincerely.”

He looks to the floor instead of your eyes—as if he’s afraid of what he’ll find there—before gently pulling away and wordlessly leaving the room.

───────────━┿──┿━──────────

You are lucky enough to find interesting soaps and good-smelling candles before working the bath. With some maneuvering and much delight, you are able to conjure bubbles through use of items you’ve scavenged from the cabinets. You find washcloths, sponges, brushes, and an assortment of other things.

You want to wait for your host to return first, but as the minutes continue to pass you realize you need to take advantage of the hot water before it cools.

You shed your clothes, undo your hair, and step into the water-filled basin.

“God…” you whisper, goosebumps rising on your skin.

It feels incredible.

You sink into the water, a smile on your face. You haven’t felt something this good since traveling to hot springs in your more daring adventures. Back then, you had to evade the cultist locals for a hint of heated water. This was so different, as it was your own personal hot spring whenever you desired!

You sink deeper into the water for a bit before beginning to scrub and lather your journey off of you. You decide to empty and fill the tub once more, just because you can, and bathe a little more before feeling pristine to your liking.

Stepping out, you massage in some leftover body oil from your pack. You clean the basin before peeking out into your room.

There is no one present, but a new, soft nightdress lays comfortably on the chair. Your fireplace is even lit.

You smile to yourself as you step out and lift the nightdress, assessing it.

“So his bark is louder than his bite,” you decide aloud.

You change swiftly, and despite being in such an strange situation, once in the massive bed, you find sleep has come right on your heels. Your eyes almost slide shut until you hear a knock at your door.

You open your eyes and slip out of bed. You push open your door—which has a heavy lock, you now realize—to see Alucard, in low lantern light, gazing back at you.

“I trust you found everything,” he says, rather than asks. You hear the question for what it is.

“Yes,” you smile. “Thank you.”

He considers your expression for a long moment before nodding his affirmation.

“Hm. Very well. There is a lock on the door of your room…if that’s any consolation to any fears you may have. Feel free to use it. Good night then,” he says, turning to leave.

“Alucard?” You call.

When he waits for you without turning to face you, you speak.

“Where will you be staying?”

‘If I need you,’ you think. 

You soon realize that this may become a situation where Alucard hears something in your speech that is not really there. With a solemn look, and the absence of an anger just as disturbing as its presence, he points to a door just down the hall from you. You would be pleased if not for the expression on his face.

“Just there,” he says. 

You realize that due to the two misunderstandings being him assuming you want to kill him, that this is likely what this third time revolves around. 

“Alucard,” you try, “I don’t intend to condescend, but you must know, I only ask for my own concern. I’m happier to know that my host is nearby. I meant no ill will by it. I’d be a poor assassin, remember?”

“Yes,” he answers quietly, as if he really is just recalling it. “I remember.”

“You’d hear me before I even entered, I bet!”

“I would.”

“So there is nothing to worry about…right…?”

His stiff shoulders finally seem to relax an inch. 

“I suppose. In any case…You are not to enter my domain, under any circumstances, outside of imminent danger. It would be…unwise of you.”

You nod, unsure of what exactly he means but positive he that he does mean what he says.

“I will see you in the morning...?” 

He pauses at that, looking somewhat bewildered. 

“I…yes, you will.”

“Alright!” You nod, pleased. “Good night then.”

Closing the door, you turn to the large, firelit room and beam.

It is a princess’s quarters…no, a queen’s! You will live lavish while you’re here, it seems.

You lay on the soft mattress under the thick covers, knowing pleasure you’ve never felt before until sleep takes you gently into the night.

───────────━┿──┿━──────────

When you wake, it is before the sun has fully broken into the sky. Pretty blues and pinks spill across the sky outside your window, so different from the cold colors of the day before. Rising in your nightgown, you spy a dress on the chair of your room. Alucard must have entered in your sleep. Had you locked the door...? You cannot recall. Under normal circumstances, traveling on the road, you would have never forgotten such a thing as utilizing a lock. For some reason, perhaps last night you felt you didn’t need to. 

You absently palm your neck for pinpricks of the vampiric sort, and find nothing.

‘Good enough for me, then.’

The dress lays before you, waiting

It is different, without any tears, and deep in its color. You pause before adorning it, turning this way and that in the looking glass before attempting to do something with your hair. 

‘I look rather stunning in this. Why does he have such nice women's clothing lying about, I wonder...?’

Once complete, you decide to do something as equally nice for your host as this dress was for you.

“Breakfast! I’ll make us breakfast. Dhampirs can eat food, right…? Now, if only I could find the kitchen…”

You spy your basket by the door. Another gift from your late-night visitor.

You pick up your newly returned basket from the room’s entrance, flipping over the blanket to spy your stolen vegetables still intact. 

You leave your rooms with a smile that slowly falls.

‘He said not to disturb him…perhaps I can find the kitchens myself? They must be on the first level, maybe the underground chambers, if anything. That’s how all castles are. I’d better start now if I hope to finish in time.’

You’re certain you will get lost, but you have a feeling that your host can easily find you again.

You pause, realizing something.

‘I hope I don’t find bottles of blood or something lying around…or something else’

On that sobering thought, you strap your dagger’s hilt tighter to your thigh. Alucard said you were both alone, but it couldn’t hurt to be vigilant.

You venture out and do your best to recreate the inverse of Alucard’s path to the great hall. After several turns and rerouting, you finally begin to recognize the way back to the grand hall. It takes far longer than you anticipated, and your soles begin to complain a little once you find the grand staircase.

With some exploration on the main floor, you finally come across a door leading into what appears to be a small kitchen. The floors are clean as are the pots and pans hanging from their hooks on the walls. You spy plenty of utensils, knives, and what appears to be another basin...plumbing. You will ask Alucard the name later.

You set down the basket, pleased to have reached your goal, and get to work.

“Can’t have just a vegetable scramble. He’s a literal dhampir, and I could use some protein.”

You can't find any aprons about, and so you wrap what looks to be a tablecloth around your pretty dress. No reason to ruin it with the trials of breakfast.

You hunt for eggs, meat, nuts, and anything of the protein type. After some pillaging, you are able to find all three and get to work. The eggs are small, and the meat is fox, rabbit, and fish instead of the typical villager fare of cows and pigs, but you make it work. You wash your hands and begin to carve out fillets, prep vegetables from your basket, and luck upon some spices. You search for oil, but can only find butter, and so you do your best with it.

Soon enough, the kitchen begins to fill with the scents and fumes of a bountiful breakfast. You plate the spiced eggs, the braised meat, the sautéed vegetables, and fill a pitcher with water. You think about finding the secret garden nearby once more to perhaps make juice from berries and fruits, or even preserve. Turning to the wood table, you set everything down before finding your final item.

The loaf of bread is well hidden, but not well enough. It is a little stale, but not enough to discourage. You claim it and cut it before setting it out on the table as well.

Turning to wash your hands one final time, you are unsurprised to find Alucard stalking in the doorway of the kitchen when you turn back around.

“What are you doing...?” he grouses, clearly just having recently awoken.

“Cooking us breakfast,” you sass, “you’re welcome, by the way. Oh, uh...you can eat food, right...?”

Alucard’s sleepy demeanor slowly fades as he nods, his interest growing as the smells of food clearly begin to assault him and cause wonders for his mood.

“Well?” You say, undoing the tablecloth-apron and taking a seat for yourself. “What are you waiting for? Sit with me, let’s eat!”

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[waitimcomingtoo]

fine line - p.p

chapter 4

pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Synopsis: there’s a fine line between love and hate and you and Peter dance it on a regular basis

Series Masterlist and Regular Masterlist

“Would you stay with me?” You asked timidly, assuming the answer would be a definite no.

“Of course.” Peter nodded, making you recall the time your dad told you he would surprise you. Peter sat down next to you, giving you your space but still close enough to comfort you. You heard him chuckle after a beat of silence and looked at him curiously.

“You know, that’s the first time you ever called me Peter.” He commented, looking at you with a half smile.

“I’ve called you Peter before.” You insisted in your hoarse voice.

“No. I would’ve remembered if you did.” He chuckled. “You always call me Parker.”

“Oh. I guess I do.” You realized as Peter reached forward and wiped your tear with his thumb. You held eye contact with his and he dragged his thumb down your cheek, letting his warmth assuage your pain.

“Thanks.” You mumbled, giving him a weak smile.

“No problem.” Peter said sincerely. “This is the longest we’ve been in a room together without yelled at each other. It’s also the closest you’ve ever let me near you.”

“Sorry.” You said as you got ready to move. “I can move over-“

“No, it’s okay.” Peter stopped you by placing a hand on your arm. “I want you close.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth to hide how happy his sentence made you. Despite how awful you treated him, he was always kind to you. Usually his generosity made you even angrier, but you didn’t have the strength to hate him tonight.

“You shouldn’t be nice to me. I’ve never been nice to you.” You shook your head and look down at the box of tissues in shame.

“I believe in treating people how you’d like to be treated. You’re also letting me be nice to you, which is a nice change.” Peter cracked a smile as he brushed your wilting curls out of your face. You leaned into his hand for a moment, closing your eyes as you finally felt peace.

“I don’t hate you.” You said suddenly, making Peter raise his eyebrows. “You said I hated you before. I don’t, really. I’m sorry I made you think I did.”

“I’m sorry too. I know this hasn’t been easy for you. I didn’t even want to move in. Mr. Stark insisted, he thought I’d be able to keep you company.” Peter laughed slightly, feeling the irony of his statement.

“Then why did you?” You wondered. You always thought it had been Peters idea to move in as a way to reap the full benefits of being an Avenger, but it turned out you were wrong.

“My aunt just got this job at a charity and she absolutely loves it, it just takes up all her time.” Peter explained. “It’s the first time I’ve seen her happy since my uncle passed and I didn’t want her to chose between her job and taking care of me, so I moved in here. I…I didn’t know Mr. Stark was gonna take me on all the missions and stuff.” Peter said softly. “I never meant to take your place.”

You opened your mouth and quickly shut it, feeling incredibly stupid and guilty for how you’d been treating him.

“I didn’t know that. Any of that, I didn’t...I didn’t know.” You said quietly as your eyes filled with regret.

“You and I don’t talk much.” Peter shrugged sadly. You tilted your head to the side, looking at him sympathetically in an entirely new light.

“You were right before, you know.” You told him. “I am jealous of you for being my dads favorite.”

“Y/n, I was just saying that.” Peter apologized. “That’s not how I really feel and it’s definitely not true.”

You looked straight ahead at your deep blue bedroom walls and let out a sigh, knowing the impending conversation wouldn’t be easy.

“He wanted a boy.” You said after a beat of silence, busying yourself with your fingernails so you wouldn’t have to look at him.

“What?”

“When he adopted me. He wanted a boy.” You explained further, feeling a blush of embarrassment cover your face and neck.

“I’m sure that’s not true.” Peter shook his head as he shifted a little closer.

“Yes it is.” You smiled sadly. “They did all these family matching events at my foster home when I was a kid and he would always stop by. I always saw him talking to the boys. He never signed any papers though, I think he was just browsing.” You chuckled, and Peter did too.

“You don’t have to tell me if it’s difficult to talk about.” Peter said kindly as he rested a hand on your knee.

“I want to tell you so you can understand.” You insisted, feeling like this was your best shot at an apology.

“Okay. I’m listening.”

“I never got picked.” You came outright with it. “I would show up to these events in my best dress and biggest smile and watch all my friends get taken home by some family, even if it was just for a test run, but nobody ever picked me. It gets to you after a while.”

“I’m sorry. I had no idea.” Peter sympathetically squeezed your knee.

“No, it’s okay. If some other family had wanted me, I wouldn’t have ended up with my dad.”

“You’re really strong for being able to see the bright side of all this. I don’t know what I would’ve done.” Peter shook his head as he got a look into your history.

“I appreciate that.” You smiled softly at him, letting him know you were no longer upset.

“How did you end up with Mr. Stark?” Peter wondered.

“He came pretty late one day, after an event had been going on for a while. He had Pepper with him that time, I guess he finally convinced her to come. By the time he arrived, all the boys had already been taken, and I could just see the disappointment in his face. Then he made eye contact with me.” You smiled to yourself. “I had seen him there so many times, but this was the first time we interacted. I had on this fluffy pink princess dress to make myself look more presentable. He saw me and laughed.”

“Princess. That’s why he calls you princess.” Peter made the connection.

“So you’re not as dumb as I thought.” You teased him, playfully this time, as you nudged him. “He bent down in front of me and asked if I’d like to live in his castle for the week, and I said yes. After the week was up, he brought a suitcase to my foster home. He said my suitcase matched his because we were a family now. It was the first thing that had ever been mine, you know? Not a hand me down or anything. It was mine. Those suitcases are all worn out now, but we still use them for every mission. At least, we used to.”

“Thats why you were upset he threw his out. Y/n, I’m sorry. I didn’t know any of this. You never - - You don’t talk to me.” Peter’s voice was pained as he got the full picture of why the fight had upset you as much as you did.

“I know. And I’m sorry for that. I know this doesn’t justify why I treat you the way I do, but I hope it explains it a little.” You looked at him apologetically. “It’s dumb but I always saw those suitcases as a symbol of our family. And then he goes and throws them out to buy one for you. Not that I would need one anyway since he stopped bringing me on missions and I just, I don’t know, I felt replaced.”

“That’s not dumb.” Peter insisted. “Mr. Stark likes having me around but I could never replace you. You’re his daughter. I know he spends a lot of time with me but that doesn’t mean he wanted a boy.”

“That’s not the only thing, though.” You continued. “When I got to his house for the first time, before the tower was even built, he already had a room set up. Blue walls and little shirts with sports slogans on them told me what I already knew. He wanted a boy. He wanted you.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d ever wear a shirt with a sports slogan on it.” Peter slipped a joke in, making you chuckle softly.

“Yeah, well. You check all his other boxes.” You reminded him. “You’re smarter than me, better at technology than I am, and you’re a freaking superhero for crying out loud. I can’t do half the things you can and he knows it. And when you guys save the world together or build these amazing inventions, it’s like you’re rubbing in all the things I could never do with him. It just reminds me that you’re what he wanted.”

“So are you. He loves you.”

“I don’t doubt he loves me. I just doubt I’d be his first choice.” You shrugged sadly. “You and I are both orphans and if you hadn’t had your aunt and uncle to take care of you, you would’ve ended up in the same place as me. And if you had been there that day at the event…”

“You think Mr. Stark would’ve chosen me, not you.” Peter finished your sentence, and everything made sense to him at once.

“Yeah.” You whispered as tears filled your red rimmed eyes once again. “I’m sorry I don’t call you by your name. I’m sorry I’m mean to you and push you away. But you have to understand, you’re not someone I ever wanted to know. And when you say things like him preferring you, I believe you.”

“I never should’ve said that. I wish we had this conversation when I first moved in.” Peter sighed heavily. “I would’ve understood you so much better. And I…I wanted to understand you.”

“You did?” You jerked your head back in surprise at his statement.

“Yeah. It was kinda a bummer when I realized my mentors extremely beautiful and intelligent daughter hated me.” Peter chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck. “He talked so highly of you, I wish you could’ve heard it. He’s this world famous billionaire inventor and superhero and his greatest accomplishment is his daughter. It made me really excited to meet you. And then…”

“And then I made your life hell.” You squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment as you finished his sentence. “I’m sorry, Peter.”

“It’s okay. I still liked you, even if you were mean to me.” He smiled sheepishly. “I could tell you were funny and nice from when I heard you talking to other people. I just didn’t understand why you didn’t like me.”

“I feel like we could’ve been really good friends by now if I hadn’t been so quick to judge you.” You pouted as you looked at him. “I thought you were taking advantage of my dads money of something. You’re actually a really good guy. I should’ve listened the first 50 times me dad told me that.”

“We can still be friends. I think I’ll be around a while.” He teased your usual hatred of him being around as he bumped his shoulders against yours. You laughed as you moved together, feeling grateful for the second chance he was giving you. Something he had said clung to the back of your mind and in the name of being honest, you brought it up.

“Do you…do you really think I’m beautiful?” You asked curiously as you looked at him. A blush spread from Peters nose bridge all the way to the tips of his ears when he realized you caught his subtle compliment.

“Um, don’t you?” He shrugged, answering your question with a question to put the ball back in your court. Your lips twitched into a smile before you looked away, feeling flustered in place of your usual disdain.

“To answer your question from before, my date was lame.” You shrugged. “Harry was on his phone the whole time, something about fantasy football? I don’t know, I wasn’t listening. Rich people are like, super boring.”

“I thought you liked him? Last I heard, you wanted to be his girlfriend.” Peter couldn’t help from rolling his eyes as he spoke.

“Oof.” You clicked your tongue. “If you haven’t figured out by now that I played up my feelings for Harry to make you jealous, then maybe you’re not smarter than me.”

“You wanted to make me jealous?” Peter repeated for confirmation. “It worked, but why?”

“Do you want to know the number one thing that annoyed me about you?” You asked him, the fight a distant memory now.

“I don’t know. Do I?” Peter chuckled as he rested his head in his hands to look at you.

“No matter how much I disliked you,” you shook your head and shrugged slightly, “I always liked you more.”

“I thought you said you would never like me.” Peter recalled, a hopeful smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah, well,” you moved closer to him, sitting on his thigh and resting your hand on his shoulder, “I guess I had a change of heart.”

“Well.” Peter looked up at you with a fire in his eyes. “What ever am I going to do about that?” He said slowly as he drummed his fingers on your leg.

“Yeah. What are you gonna do about it, Parker?” You brought back his old nickname to really push him.

“I have a few ideas, Princess.” Peter mumbled before crashing his lips to yours. Your hands immediately went to his hair, tugging it for all the times he made you stressfully tug at yours.

“You drive me crazy with all your eye rolling.” Peter said between kisses as he pushed you down on the bed. “Nobody is that annoyed all the time.”

“Every time I saw you in the lab I hoped you’d burn your hand on the benson burner.” You confessed as you trailed kisses on his jawline.

“I hate when you leave your cereal bowls out. Do you know how disgusting almond milk looks when it’s left out? Ugh it made me so mad.” Peter groaned as he pinned you to the bed.

“I hate when you’re in the kitchen when I’m baking. You’re so annoying.” You whined, tilting your head up to kiss him.

“You’re so annoying.” He shot back as he pulled you closer.

“I cannot stand you.” You shook your head before kissing him again. “At all.”

“That makes two of us, princess.” Peter gave you a cocky smirk as his hand traveled up your leg. 

“I told you not to call me that, daddy.” You shot back, making Peter gulp. You laughed wickedly and propped yourself up on your elbows. “Thats what I thought. You’re all talk.”

“That wasn’t fair.” He growled, teeth grazing your earlobe now. 

“You just can’t handle it.” You teased him. 

“I think I’m in love with you.” Peter said simply as he pulled his shirt over his head.

“Same.” You laughed at the irony. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

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[the-silentium]

Home Sweet Home

Masterlist - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors. Thank you.

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 7569 words

Warnings: Angst, sexual innuendos.

A/N: Last “soft” chap before the action come back ~  

**Words in bold are words said in French, which means the clones can’t understand it.**

Taglist: @clone-rambles / @mandaloriandin / @apathetic-catastrophie / @jenstar1992-2 / @haloangel391 / @lightning-wolffe / @cherrydemon5​ / @and-claudia​ / @lackofhonor​ / @gaymasonjar​ / @depthsreturn​ / @koskareevesismyqueen​ / @leonidas-banana-phone​             

____________________

Nothing changed. Not the obnoxious people, not the earthy smells, nor the heavy atmosphere. The loud locks of the gates closing behind your group still resonated through your ears, sounding too much like the last nail sealing your coffin shut and not like a protecting device. Was it your instincts telling you that you made the wrong decision? Or was it just the dread of returning somewhere you never wanted to return? Either way, it was clear that you didn't feel any bits of nostalgia at being back between these rocky walls. 

Hells, even the council's room was giving off unpleasant vibes with its tall bookcases carved directly into the walls that protected way too many old books that weren't all redacted in French nor in Basic. A map of the planet hung on the furthest wall of the room, the different villages identified with their respective symbol to help with trades, hunts, fights. Frabas' name crossed out in blood-red ink to remind everyone of the overnight genocide that happened there. 

The lanterns were the only nice things in the room. The soft green and blue crystals contained within the glass enclosure bathed the whole room in their light. Maybe if you focussed on them long enough their glow would soothe your mind. 

"Excuse me? You spit on it?" Tech's sudden high pitch tone was surprising enough to pass through your incessant flow of thoughts 

"Yeah. Right there." He pointed at an intergrown knot close to the far extremity of the table where the heads usually sat. "What? Did you want me to piss on it? That's a bit too animalistic." Kayden added as soon as he noticed Tech's offended expression that quickly morphed into a disgusted one. 

"Honestly, with you people, I wouldn't have been surprised." Crosshair's jeer traveled the room in a second. It took even less to drop Kayden's mood.  

His hand tightened around yours and without losing a single second, you matched his grip to keep him from expressing his frustration through anything physical. Now wasn't the time to start a fight between your own team members when several other players might want to hurt you. 

If tonight's bad luck could turn into good fortune at least once, now would be the time. The 'diplomats' were out of harm's way, Kayden had technically done what he was told and thus was not considered a traitor, leaving you alone on the spot. 

"Look who just found his voice again." He caught your message and used his words instead. "I was sure you'd swallowed your tongue when you ran like a chicken back there."

"And who ran the fastest in the group eh?" The sniper walked to the table. His hands fell flat on the wood to support himself as he leaned forward, daring the brunette at your sides to make a move. 

"The fastest is usually the one to survive." He pointed out as he scratched at his clothed chest with his free hand, his right one still prisoner of your grip. 

"Crosshair." Hunter slightly pulled him backward by the pauldron and away from the incoming confrontation. "Enough." He added with a growl, clearly remembering how this wasn't his brother. Not fully. 

Against all expectation, Crosshair did back off, although he quickly moved his animosity towards the new source of irritation, clear proof that this wasn't the man with whom Hunter had shared so many memories, good or bad. He was a total stranger that didn't respect him at all and lived to push his buttons. Why he stayed with you all was a mystery, although you weren't complaining. Keeping him restrained while in the jungle would have been a true challenge. 

It was like waiting for a storm to explode. The dark grey clouds were there, the strong winds blew away everything in their wake, the thunder resonated in the distance, yet there wasn't any droplet of rain. The men faced each other just like in the cave, mere centimeters separated their chest plates and anytime now, the first blow would mark the start of a colossal downpour. 

It was nerve-wracking. Even Wrecker and Tech were watching, clearly pondering if they should intervene or if by doing so they would aggravate the situation. You started getting up as the door opened and startled you into seating down again. 

Never had you thought that seeing Arlan enter a room would make you feel relieved, yet, this was exactly how you felt at the moment. It seemed like the sudden entrance of an outsider was enough for Crosshair to back off. You subtly crossed your fingers that he wouldn't lash out at the leader even though the scene would very probably make you feel so much better. The consequences of going against Arlan just weren't worth it.  

Before the dark-haired leader could notice it, you separated your hand from Kayden's, both your backs straightened and your unbothered masks came back on. Wearing the well-worn suit of this fake cocky personality was deeply uncomfortable but truly necessary. Over the years it became your best shield and Kayden your best ally. 

"Take a seat." Arlan waved towards the table as he walked deeper into the room, passing Hunter and Crosshair like they weren't even there. It took years to be able to read the black-haired leader, but it definitely came in handy now. 

His calm tone hid a deep irritation that showed through the tightness gripping the muscles around his eyes. He quickly tamed his features as he took place at the end of the table, his elbows immediately meeting the hardwood of the armchairs to allow his fingers to interlace before him. 

Soon the 4 seats opposing you were occupied with rigid troopers. Their helmets still firmly on would have been seen as an enormous lack of respect if only Arlan's attention wasn't already focussed on two nasty boots dripping mud onto the piece of art that was the table.

Arlan only needed one look to communicate thoroughly his thoughts. The hard gaze that could easily be misinterpreted as a constipated one transpired enough threats that Kayden removed his boots without any further delay. The ultimatum was clear and you both knew that there was nothing Arlan despised more than repeating himself. Well, maybe you two were the firsts on his list, but that was especially because you loved to make him repeat himself. 

If only he didn't look like there was an entire fire-ants colony in his pants, Kayden would have kept his feet up for a bit longer just to raise the man's blood pressure a little. You swore he got more grey hair each time he had to talk with the two of you. 

The disapproving sigh accompanying the stormy grey hues boring deeply into yours was a true gift to Kayden whose smirk widened in consequence. 

"Do you know why you're here?" The question resonated within the room with utmost seriousness, a seriousness that you forced yourself to shrug nonchalantly in response. 

"Surely not because you missed me." You placed a smirk on your lips to copy your sidekick and complete the infernal duo act. 

His dark-grey sleeves rode up his arms as he bent forward, his elbows now resting on the table, to get a closer look at you, 3 chairs away. Whilst being very tempting, flinching under his hard stare was out of the question. Four months in a medbay with kind people almost made you forget what the world was really made of; selfish people who always looked out for weaknesses to exploit and were eager to beat others down in hope to raise themselves up. 

"We are here to talk relations between the Republic and your planet." Hunter sharply stated, cutting short the staring contest. "My team was sent in a preliminary manner to inform you of the Republic's intentions seeing as your representatives couldn't be reached through official channels. In the following days, two senators will be coming here with adequate troops to talk in the Senate's name." 

How the room got hotter in a second was a mystery. All you knew was that even though his tone was borderline too crisp to be qualified as diplomatic, Hunter's words were so perfectly chosen that you wondered if he'd done this kind of job before. 

As the silence following Hunter's declaration stretched, Arlan's gaze moved to the hard visor of the commando trooper. The intensity of his stare left you thinking that maybe he was able to see through the shade. Unfazed, Hunter stared right back as you did just moments prior. 

You nearly missed it. If you hadn't been watching Arlan as intently as you were doing, the minuscule flash in his eye would have been overlooked. A muscle jumped in his jaw, filling you with dread. Something was wrong. Somehow he had the upper hand and he was internally relishing his win. 

"A very well executed lie, but I am sorry to announce you that the Republic won't come here, Sergeant. Not after the Jedis signed a treaty to never come on this planet ever again." You were sure he paused just to get a reaction out of the commando. Hunter's helmet hid his expression perfectly. If he'd reacted or not was totally lost on everyone, unfortunately, it wasn't the same for Kayden whose eyes grew as big as saucers. "No Jedi, no clone, no senator, no Separatist, no outsider is welcome here." 

Say what now? Never before had you ever heard of Jedis ever landing a foot on Fors, even less signing a treaty. 

Hunter's helmet slightly dipped in your direction, surely to get some answers through your body language. Surely, he got the message when you gulped, wariness filling your eyes as you continued to stare at the man in his mid-50s. His message had been pretty clear from the very beginning. That he felt the need to add that the clones weren't welcome caused doubts in your village ethics to creep into your mind. 

As far as you knew, no one had ever been executed in cold blood. Sure, you'd heard stories as a child about how people who were a tad bit too disturbing in the community would vanish overnight, obviously thrown out into the jungle to be feasted on by some hungry creature. Without knowing if they were true events or simply a way to make children behave, you took a habit of sticking with Kayden as soon as the firsts Furants that created their nests in the crooks of the walls circling the village entered the gates to hide, signaling that 7 pm had recently passed and the Nightmares would show up in under an hour. After all, there was no better nuisance in Alryan than the two of you. 

Knowing that Arlan's smugness was carefully hidden under layers of practiced indifference, a very tantalizing urge to break your knuckles once again send tingles into your dominant hand. Breaking his nose for a second time would definitely help your mood as well as everyone else's in the room, you were sure of it. 

"The- the Jedis? But they never-" 

"It is not common knowledge." Arlan archly cut Kayden short and rolled his eyes with that very particular expression that made you feel like the stupidest idiot in the galaxy. In response, the tingles in your hand intensified. "This treaty is way older than me after all. We never needed the Republic's help in any way, not then and certainly not now." He at least had the decency to meet his eyes as he talked.

"And what do you think of the Nightmares? Frabas-" You piped up, the image of a traumatized red-head girl shaking in her bloody clothes popped in your mind. "They could've helped with that."

"They are protectors." He closed his eyes in exasperation and pinched his nose like he'd repeated the concept over and over again to a child that never retained anything. 

"They don't protect shit! They kill us!" 

Where had he been his whole life? Every night they came and howled, screeched, hissed, yapped and laughed on the other side of the gates in hope of having some juicy flesh and fresh blood to appease their hunger and thirst. Some even went as far as hitting the gates repeatedly in hope of breaking their way in. 10 hours per night, 368 nights a year, every year.

"They protect the Core that's in you--" He interrupted himself as soon as he noticed the irritation breaching his mask, allowing venom to drip through the closing cracks. His rage fit only lasted a second but it was a second too much. He gave you more than he wanted you to know. 

"What do you mean? In me?" You could feel yourself starting to shake. In apprehension, anger or fear you couldn't tell. There was too much going on at the same time, assaulting your already tired mind. 

"Nothing that you need to know." His tone was definitive, his grey eyes conveying the same message. 

"Bullshit!" You jump to your feet just as he pushed his chair to get up. "If it's in me like you say, I deserve to know!" 

Your yell must have triggered something, because as soon as the words flew from your mouth, Rhian and his troops entered the room, bows fully bent and ready to shoot in your direction. Elijah had his hammer in both hands, fully prepared to use it against a clone- your money went on Wrecker- if needed and Pete was ready to blow a tranquilizer- or it could easily be a fast-acting poison- into someone's neck. 

The answer to the intrusion was immediate. Wrecker's chair went flying behind him at the impact of his legs when he followed his CO's movement. All four troopers stood on their side of the table, imposing and totally ready to enter a fight if need be. You and Kayden though? Totally not ready. You were unarmed and by the time you took hold of Kayden's bow, at least three arrows would have found their way into your body. 

"All you really deserved was to die on Murphy Day." He snarled in your direction as his impatience once again showed through his slipping mask. "Throw them in the slammer."

That's it. Goodbye knuckles. Always the perceptive, Kayden grabbed your upper arm, right below the Algax's clean-cut, and pulled you back to his side even before you made the first step towards the bastard. Always there to keep you alive for another day. What a nice friend. 

"Hands behind your head." Rhian barked as he approached you and Kayden from behind. 

Doing as you were told, you noticed the troopers hesitating before doing as ordered when you nodded at them. Tech lifted his good hand, the other keeping hold of Crosshair's cage. One of the archers went to seize it, but a sudden shoulder to the sternum kept him away. 

He's not just a nerd. You smirked as the archer stumbled. 

"Let them keep it." Rhian waved off the fuming archer who definitely wanted to go back and win his fight. Too bad. "Walk ahead. You know the way." Rhian nodded towards the door after getting a hold of Kayden's bow and quiver, his very own bow aimed at the floor. The string was stretched just enough to cause serious damage if he needed to defend himself quickly, but he seemed to know that it wasn't needed. 

Kayden led the way with you in tow, Elijah and Pete moved away from the door to let you pass at a safe distance. Out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed Rhian breaking formation to move up to Arlan, who surely waved him over. 

You sighed as you remembered that he didn't even tell you why he wanted you here. 

The clone's boots resonated against the rock floor at each of their steps, close enough to appease your mind. 

"Do you know a way out of here?" Hunter's voice emanated softly within your ear. 

You moved your shoulder blades in a circular motion as if you were stretching the muscles and nodded your head at the same time as to not look too suspicious to the archers escorting the group. Good thing that they didn't notice your earpiece yet.

Wrecker must have been the one right behind you because he relayed the message to Hunter through the private line. 

"Now?" You rotated your head from side to side like when you needed to crack your neck. 

"No." Came Wrecker's whisper. 

"In the slammer?" A small nod. 

"Yeah." 

"Then we wait and we get out as soon as possible." Hunter told his half-plan to the Batch who hummed their approvals. 

Once again the unusual parade that you formed along with the armored men attracted many curious eyes. Ignoring them was easier this time around, the familiarity of their chary gazes finally coming back to allow you to concentrate on something else. 

This part of the village was carved so deeply into the mountain that even the occasional howls coming from the jungle couldn't be heard. There couldn't have been better protection for a population of more than 700 people than a natural barrier of rock. Sure, this very convenient refuge could easily become a tomb for a lot of villagers in the event of a breach, but several emergency tunnels were created for this very situation. They were maintained at a perfect condition in case a repeat of Frabas' catastrophe ever came to happen. 

Every Alryan learned the location of every single tunnel at the youngest of age. They were only to be used in emergency cases and right now, it was an emergency. It all depended on the perspective. 

"It never changed." You stated quietly as the slammer's entrance came into view, the dark purple glow emanating from its depths was a stark contrast to the lively colors of the main area. 

Goosebumps rose on your arms as you followed Kayden down the tunnel. The nearby natural well raised the humidity in these parts of the mountain and thus caused the air to become colder. Just my luck, you thought as the fresh air infiltrated your clothes by the multiple tears in their fabric. 

"In there." Rhian speed-walked to catch up with Kayden and direct him to a cell carved into the wall on his left. 

You were locked up with him, Wrecker and Hunter got situated in the cell facing yours, Crosshair and Tech on the one right beside theirs. 

Right as Tech got in after a growling Crosshair, Rhian took hold of the cage and kicked Tech inside who landed in a yelp. You weren't even gripping the bars yet that the heavy door closed behind the engineer. 

"Give him back!" 

"Sorry 'bout that." He threw the cage in the air twice, the flame within shaking frantically as it hit the bars. "Orders are orders." He ignored the yells of his name bouncing in the detention center and walked out unbothered, his men in tow. 

"How quick can you get us out of here?" The urgency in Hunter's tone only added to your own raiding anxiety. What would Arlan do to Crosshair? He was totally defenseless. 

"Couple of minutes. But we'll need Back-Up. I hope you have it." You turned to Kayden who scoffed in mocked offense. 

"You have back-up?" Tech wondered out loud, tilting his head. "I thought no one would help you here." 

"Jeez. Thanks for the vote of confidence." Kayden held his heart before reaching for his chest pocket. "Back-up is my Godot." He pulled a hand-sized lizard from his pocket to show the Batch. 

The Godot's orange scales shone softly at Kayden's contact, their light reflecting onto the soft line of baby blue leaves growing on each side of its spine. Its three-fingered paws grabbed fingers and clothes to remain in place while two black eyes moved independently from one another to take in what was happening around. Its long tail wrapped around Kayden's wrist as he lifted it up to show off, the small leaves at its end shining brightly in surprise. 

Wrecker gasped and lifted his helmet to get a better view of the animal. "That's what I saw the first time, Tech! It's the lizard that disappeared!" 

"Nothing disappeared Wrecker. There was nothing there." Tech rebuked.  

"Don’t be so sure about that! They can camouflage themselves, right Back-Up?" At the half-baked order, the tiny lizard shut off its light and changed its skin pigmentation to copy its environment to perfection. 

"It disappeared Tech! See? That's what I saw and you didn't believe me!" Wrecker's tone raised as he pointed to Kayden's seemingly empty outstretched hand. 

"Wrecke-" You tried to warn him to keep his voice down but heard steps coming your way. 

"Back-up, go get the master key at home." Kayden hurriedly whispered to the Godot and quickly kneeled to allow it access to the ground so it could wander away and get the required object. 

A guard appeared at the end of the corridor just as Kayden got up and threw himself onto the upper hammock fixed to the walls. He moved around to get comfortable and into the right position, hands under his head. 

"So, I've heard that Stockholm syndrome was hard on you." Brett, a particularly annoying scout, mocked from behind his beard. 

"Nope. Still don't like y'all." You replied nonchalantly despite the urge to punch him through the bars. 

"I was talking about them." He pointed to the two cells containing the clones and you lifted a single eyebrow. 

"Tech, definition of Stockholm syndrome please." You asked, maintaining eye contact during the whole process. 

"Stockholm syndrome," You saw the genius perked up at your request. Sadly, he didn't lift a finger in the air while he recited the meaning of the word. "Is a psychological response wherein a captive begins to identify closely with his or her captors, as well as with their agenda and demands." He ended with a nod and the movement satisfied you enough to let the lack of a finger go.  

"That means you dumbass." You spat as you crossed your arms over your chest. "I'm with them willingly." 

"Get fucked!" Kayden shouted with a laugh that got half a smile out of you. 

"You? Our captive? It sure felt like the other way around." He finally switched to basic and the hate coating his words told you that he wasn't talking about the pranks and snarky attitude, no, he was talking about something bigger than that. 

"What are you talking about?" Maybe you could get more answers out of him than you did with Arlan. 

He scoffed. "Stop trying to play the idiot. Between the two of you, Kayden's the best at it." 

You ignored said idiot's thanks to press the matter. "Okay and let's imagine I really don't know what the hell you're talking about. What in the damn world did I do?" You remembered Arlan's word and almost added what is wrong with me? but Brett was already dropping the three medicine canisters to the ground, out of reach from either your cell or the clones' and went away. 

"You live." 

You sat on the ground, drained of every ounce of energy you once had. What was wrong with you? Why did everyone want you dead? The fear you felt at Arlan's words came back as you thought about what it could all mean. The Nightmares who stopped appearing when you left and came back when you did. Whatever the Core was that supposedly resided in you and the fact that the Lumsin knew what it was while you didn't. That the villagers never saw you as an annoying brat but a vile oppressor. 

You faintly heard Kayden talking with Tech about Back-up, but couldn't make out the exact words, your own thoughts being way too loud for you to clearly hear anything outside your head. 

"It's alright. Don't worry about it." An arm fell on your shoulders and pulled you into Kayden's side who now sat next to you on the ground, successfully pulling you out of your own mind. Yet, as comforting as his gesture was supposed to be, you only felt guiltier. Even when everyone else pointed their fingers at you, he was still there to keep yourself up even after you'd vanished on him. 

Kayden scratched the clothes over his heart again and cut off your incoming guilty declaration. 

"Question. If the half-skull one was to break my jaw or somethin' and that you didn't see it happen, would you believe me if I told you it was him?" Kayden asked, frowning too deeply for you to brush the question off as one of his stupid ones. 

"Wha-?" Then it dawned on you. "Did you threaten him?" You asked Hunter, voice raising in octaves. 

You knew Kayden probably deserved it, but he was your best friend. You've been helping each other for more than 15 years and there was no way you'd let him get beaten for a stupid jealousy tantrum. 

An invisible hand squeezed your heart as you felt Kayden relaxing against your side. He doubted that you'd listen to him. More importantly, he doubted that you'd trust his word over someone else's. Sure it was Hunter's word, but you knew the Sergeant was not in his right mind and not only because of the irrational feeling. 

"He wouldn't stop talking." The unbothered tone in which he answered shocked you. 

"Yet you've never threatened Tech." 

"That's not the same." Why must he sound like he truly believed that he did nothing wrong? 

"You may not value his life and health, but I do. A lot." You emphasized the last word so he got the message. "And his word is the only single one in the galaxy that I never ever doubted." 

Kayden's breath sharply filled his lungs and Hunter's fingers curled into fists. You still deeply loved the dark-haired Sergeant and seeing him frustrated at your words made a real number on your insides but that rational part of your brain told you that he would tire of you someday and would leave, whereas Kayden had shown countless of times that he'd be there to hold your hand, push your back and pull you up whenever needed. 

"Good to know." 

Why did his acknowledgment of your words make you sick? You'd said those words yourself and they were true, so how could they hurt that much? If it wasn't of the half-circles traced on the back of your right hand, you certainly would have had a physical reaction. It could have been hiding in your hammock or tears leaking from your eyes, you didn't know. 

"You don't trust us?" Wrecker's hurt translated in his low, nearly inaudible tone if it wasn't of the earbud deeply pushed into your ear canal. 

"I do Wrecker. I really do. It's me that I don't." Damn. For someone who wanted to avoid feelings-talks like the plague, you found yourself right in the middle of the deepest one ever. 

"I don't understand." He admitted. 

"I-" You sighed, trying to find the words that would explain something you didn't know how to explain. "I don't myself Wrecker. I make people despise me and-" The words escaped you. Out of exasperation, your free hand moved up to rub your closed eyelids and drag the pads of your fingers down your cheeks. 

"When they don't you persuade yourself they do and you tell yourself that they'll give you up so you start to doubt them even when there's nothing to worry about." Kayden shrugged at your wide eyes looking at him. "Don't be surprised I know you better than yourself. You did the same shit with me but I didn't let you." 

"Then why did you doubt yourself against Hunter?" 

" 'cuz you love him." He answered in your native tongue and you were grateful for it. You weren't ready to say the words out loud and if Kayden, the person who just demonstrated that he knew you like the palm of his hand, said those words himself, then he'd throw your feelings out in the open and you couldn't have that. Not when your brain still expected the Bad Batch to get back to their ship and leave you on Fors, where you belonged. 

"You were there longer."

"Yeah, but that was because you couldn't escape me. Give them their chance. You might be surprised." He patted your shoulder like an old man who gave advice to a youngster. 

"We wouldn't give you up. You're our friend!" Wrecker added once the conversation in a foreign language died. 

"If you still doubt our friendship, then you might want to remember that we passed hundreds of hours training you to be our pilot and that we lied to our superiors to keep you." Tech pointed out, this time with the finger in the air. It brought the tiniest of smiles to your lips. 

"Or remember the moments shared." Hunter surprised you with his quiet words that Kayden definitely couldn't hear without a comm device. Had he realized that he was fighting a non-existent enemy? Or did he feel as bad as you following your exchange?

"Or you can remember that you're a freak." Tech slapped his lean brother's shoulder 

"So I belong with you guys? Yeah, I'll- I'll do my best to remember all that." A chuckle escaped your lips. "Thanks." You added under your breath, to which the boys nodded and Wrecker smiled brightly. 

"Is your chest okay?" Tech asked and pointed at Kayden who was still scratching his torso. 

"Yeah, 's just itchy. I think Kerth put some poison Ivy in my clothes. I wouldn't be surprised." He pulled his shirt forward to look at his skin. He winced. "That does look like it." 

"You never get tired of looking at yourself?" A soft feminine voice chuckled from down the hallway. 

Soft brown eyes shone behind fiery red locks, their owner walking straight to your cell where she stopped to pass you a hot container. You'd recognize that smell everywhere and apparently so did your stomach who growled loudly in anticipation of receiving some soup. 

"Good timing, I see." She chuckled, put her pack on the ground and offered you a container. "It's not poisoned, I promise. I did it myself." She assured in basic when you kept watching her hands without making any move towards the food. 

Still unmoving, Kayden took it upon himself to grab two containers and let the redhead give the clones their servings. 

"They wanted me to only feed the soldiers but I slipped some for you two as well. For all the spare crusts." She nodded at you, who kept watching her in silence. Before turning around to go back to where she came from, the woman had the kindness to grab the discarded medicine canisters and offer them to Kayden. "Take care." 

Wait. You had to tell her. It was like your brain forgot how everything worked. Opening your mouth wasn't hard compared to finding what to say. Even then your throat constricted in an attempt to shut you up, but you couldn't let her go without telling her. 

She deserved to know. 

"Fleena." Was all you managed and it was enough to stop her in her tracks. When she turned, your hand was already fishing around in your pocket for the small piece of wood. 

She came back as you brought your closed fist forward and dropped the dirty necklace on her open hand. 

She stared at it, surprise taking over her soft features in a flash as soon as she recognized the symbol. She turned it to inspect the back and now was the right time for the earth to open beneath your ass and take you away. 

"Where did you get that?" The tremors in her voice send a knife through your heart. 

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you made sure to choose your words better than with Hunter. "Nixon was a Wanderer."

"He-" She started with hope until she registered your sentence. "Was?" 

There it was. The moment to own what you did finally arrived. 

"What did you do?" She pressed as you kept silent, unable to say it out loud. 

"It wasn't him anymore, Fleena. He hadn't grown up and kept walking in circles on his bleeding feet. He was tormented." 

You freed him. You helped him. Now that her horrified hazel eyes bore into yours, Crosshair's words that were so helpful before held no sense. 

"He was still my brother." She clutched the necklace to her chest, tears running down her cheeks. 

"Nixon was gone." 

"I don't expect you to understand. You don't know anything about having a sibling." 

The silence following her retreating steps was even heavier than before. No. That wasn't true. The boys spoke in the background and in your ear, prompting you to remove the device to have some peace. 

"You're right, I don't." You grumbled in your knees that were now up to your face to hide your features, your arms tightly wrapped around them to keep them close. 

"That's the biggest bullshit that ever came out of your mouth." Kayden scoffed next to you. "What do you think I am then? Your friend?" He puffed like it was the stupidest joke he'd ever been told. "Fuck no. We've been family ever since your dad died so cut the crap or I'll hit you." 

I should be punching you for saying such stupid stuff. 

"For real. I'll hit you so hard you won't ignore me again." He shuffled around to better position himself, arm lifting-

"I've abandoned you." You spat more at you than at him. 

"Siblings sucks but we love them anyway." He shrugged. "You're no exception." 

Tears gathered in your eyes. Even after leaving him alone to fight for himself, Kayden still loved you as much as before and never once held a grudge against your actions. He was a true god-given gift and you'd treated him unfairly. 

Pain exploded into your shoulder and you found yourself colliding with the ground. 

"The fuck?" Four spots on your shoulder hurt so deeply that it didn't take long for you to realize that he'd hit you with his knuckles. 

"My monthly quota was not yet achieved." He smirked, watching you massage the beaten skin. 

"Don't you think I'm hurt enough already?" 

"Stop whining, we have Biogel." He shook the metallic container before your face. 

"That thing hurts like hell." You groaned, pushing his hand away to sit straight. 

"When did you become such a baby?" You shot him the deadliest glare you had in reserve. "Hey. It's a very small price to pay for completely healed wounds in under 30 minutes." 

"Completely healed?" Tech inquired, eying the matching container in his hands that Kayden pushed him. 

"Yeah! One good layer and bye-bye! Works for sprained stuff too, just takes a little longer." Kayden answered as he helped you apply the cold sticky gel onto your arms. "Little tips: let someone else put it on you." He added as you hissed and groaned under the burning feeling that came with the product. 

Your hands closed and opened repeatedly to keep from hitting Kayden in retaliation for the pain he was putting you through. The raging fire led to intense stinging that you could describe as white-hot needles poking your damaged skin. 

"Please remember that you love me." Kayden said right before he dropped a huge blob of Biogel onto the hole in your leg. Had he not jumped away, your elbow would have connected with his chest at high speed. Instead, all that got injured were your nerves, your vocal cords and Hunter's head. 

"I'll murder you if you do that again." You whimpered while clutching your upper thigh in hope of cutting every pain transmission from your leg to your brain. 

"Good thing it was the last one!" He laughed from his side of the cell, Biogel discarded to the profit of the warm bowl of soup which he was already drinking like he'd been starved for a week. 

Wrecker's gasp and groans filled the air. A quick glance his way showed Hunter applying a coat of the translucent substance on his burnt hands and neck as well as on the cuts on his arms. Then came Hunter's turn who covered some scratches from the Yappians and after some thought applied some of it on the side of his forehead. No sound escaped his throat, the only proof of the pain assaulting his nerves being the scrunching of his face, unlike Tech who yelped when Crosshair carelessly applied the gel on his wrist and arms. Then, like pain didn't affect him at all, he splattered some on his swollen ankle and it was done. 

"I'm sure no one really wants to eat right now, but it'd be good to eat the food until Back-up comes back and we have to leave." Kayden reminded. 

"What's that?" Crosshair asked, more worried about the soup than Wrecker was. The tank was already slurping the soup down, mindful of his sensible fingers. 

"In basic I guess it translates as bone soup." Wrecker stopped abruptly, mouth still scotched to the bowl. He eyed you in distress, pondering if it was safe to swallow or not. "It's good, despite the name. Hunters usually eat that before a hunt to boost their systems, right Y/N?" Just for the sake of the game, you nodded. It was true anyway. 

"And eh… what's in it?" Tech moved the container in small circles to try and identify what was floating in the light yellow liquid. 

"Roots, meats, some veggies, guts and ground bones." You kept your poker face as Kayden enumerated the 'ingredients' and Wrecker lost all colors. "Where do you think the name comes from?" 

Wrecker spat his enormous gulp and you laughed to the point of tears, soon joined by your best frie- brother. 

"He's just fucking with y'all, Wreck. It's called bone soup because there's bone marrow in it to help with our joints. And there’s no guts. We're no savages." You did your best to control your laugh before digging into your soup eagerly. How Kayden always managed to get your mood up was a total mystery, but it always worked and you were grateful for it. 

"Could've fooled me." Crosshair taunted. 

"Ya can choke on it." You said at the same time Kayden did, getting a laugh out of it. 

The delicious soup filled your stomach in less than 10 gulps and it wasn't until you put your bowl down that you realized how good it made you feel to fill that emptiness in you. The soup wasn't enough to make you sleepy after a nice meal and provided just enough nutrients for everyone to be able to face the fast-approaching escape without a problem. Mixed with the Biogel, you were back at the top of your games. 

Arlan really made an error in taking care of the group. 

"What now? What's your plan?" Hunter wondered, posing his container on the ground. 

You met gaze with Kayden and he nodded confidently. "How well can you all swim in your armors?" 

"In calm water, we are fine but slow. We can't go in strong water. The current will catch in the plastoid and will drag us down." 

A hum resonated from within your throat and you pucker your lips. "You can't give them up. That scratch out the underground well and the waterfall." You taped your lips in thought. Watching Tech who still drank with only one hand, you knew that hiking wasn't an option as well. For now at least. 

"Then it's the dark pit." Kayden pointed out. 

It indeed was the last possible option. The other remaining one would be to use the front gates and it was the least possible one. 

"Yeah. The other tunnels would take too long to get out and then we'd lose too much time walking back at the Old Man's cave." You recalled from your mental map of the jungle. "I'm fairly sure we have two hours until dawn. The Old Man's Cave is 15 minutes away from here if we run." 

"Then we run." Hunter agreed. 

"Now, to get out… Hey, big guy." Kayden called. "What's the name?" 

"Wrecker." He answered proudly, almost puffing his chest out. 

Kayden scoffed. "Obviously. Should'a figured." He turned to you. "Is it too late to change my name?" 

The moron was too far for a shoulder slap, so you showed your exasperation with a roll of your eyes. "Stop screwing around and tell us your idea." 

"Yeah yeah." The childish tone wasn't surprising on his part. He turned his attention back to the tall clone. "So, Wrecker, I bet you're experienced with big shafts so how good are you with pulse-hammers?" In a flash, you threw your empty container at his head with utmost precision that you knew Crosshair would be proud. The flying object was as unexpected for him as the inappropriate sentence was for you and hit him square on the forehead. 

"I'll strangle you." You threatened. 

"Kinky." He winked while nursing his forehead. 

"With what?" Wrecker inquired, too focussed on the unknown term to pick up at the dirty joke.

"Her han-"

"Not that, morron." You cut him off. "The big hammer that exploded that tree back at the pit." You clarified for Wrecker. 

"Oh! I've never used one before, but I'm sure it can't be that hard!" Excitement glimmered in his eyes at the perspective of using the powerful weapon. 

"Oh believe me it's hard." Kayden smirked way too smugly for your taste. 

"Okay. Time out. Planning is paused." You poked the palm of your hand with the fingertips of your other hand. "I call pervert veto card." You deadpanned. 

"Oh hell no you can't!" Was there panic in his voice? Yes. Definitely. 

"Oh heck yes I can! Once a year for 24 hours and I'm using it now." Thank the gods you'd not used it before. 

"But-!" 

"No but or butts. No sexual reference in any form, implied or not. 24 hours starting now." He glared at you from his spot two meters away. You could have laughed at his face that perfectly mirrored a kid who just got his Christmas gift stolen directly from its small weak hands. 

"You're fucking me in the ass." He grumbled like an overgrown petulant child.

You lifted an eyebrow. "Try again. You can do it."

"Party pooper." 

"There you go." As you turned to the rest of them, a laugh escaped your lips at the clones’ expressions. 

Crosshair, despite his feelings blockade, was covering his mouth, Wrecker was laughing his ass off, Tech looked relieved behind his horrified eyes and Hunter chuckled. He appeared to be pleased and somewhat totally used to the situation, which grabbed your curiosity. 

Later. You forced a cough to get everyone's attention. "Let's continue. To answer your question, Wrecker, handling a pulse-hammer is not hard. Only remember to not touch the head," You had to stop to point at Kayden in a threatening manner when you sensed a perverted comment about to escape his idiotic mouth despite the veto card being used. "And hit with the glowing side. If you hit with the other side, you'll damage the hammer and it'll be useless." 

"I can do that!" Wrecker enthusiastically nodded. 

"So we plan into exploding our way out of here? What do we do about Cross?" Tech pointed out what he thought was a flaw in your plan. 

Right at this moment, Back-Up appeared before Kayden, its fluffy leaves puffing out in pride as Kayden removed the Master key from its belly pouch. What a marvelous creature they were. Being able to fit your own size in an extensible pouch that covered your body from your collarbone to your pelvis was truly amazing and more than practical. 

"We'll split. Kayden will guide you guys to the emergency tunnel and I'll go get Cross. I'll meet you all as soon as I can." 

You nearly hadn't finished that Hunter inevitably rejected your plan. "No. We stay together."

"We can't. You guys will be the decoy I need to sneak around and find him and having one of you with me will catch attention and slow me down." You cut Hunter as he still looked like he was about to be opposed. "I still have my comms and earbud. I'll contact you every 5 minutes." You offered in an attempt to compromise. 

Silence stretched and you got up, already ready to depart. The tingling in your arms and leg had subsided some time ago and to your sweet surprise, applying weight on your leg didn't hurt as much as before. 

Kayden unlocked the cells and a hand softly grabbed your forearm. "Fine. You comm every 5 minutes and you take this." He moved to Tech to rummage through his belt and hand you a pistol. "Use it if needed." 

You took the pistol with a steady grip despite the uncertainty shaking your guts. It was the very first blaster you've ever had in your hand and it was heavier than you thought. "Don't worry. I will." You assured him, voice strong and unwavering. 

But… could you really?

[sixeyesgojo]

Team Gojo as flowers

Summary: Gojo, Yuji, Megumi, Nobara and Sukuna as types of flowers

Characters: stated above

Content warning: mild manga spoilers

Word count: -

A/N: I’d appreciate feedback here (and in general) because I’m not sure whether to do this kind of hc for other JJK characters or not. I am thinking of Toge in particular because I love my salmon boy. Also fyi, this was some time after 135 but before 140 for sure.

Gojo Satoru  - Nemophila

I just saw these and immediately thought about how good they would suit him???

another name for them would be baby blue eyes (no, I had no idea beforehand)

they symbolize prosperity, victory, success or triumph over an enemy

flashback to Gojo beating Jogo tf up... but add a nemophila field in the background <3

That being said, his profile literally states that he is perfect in every way (except for his personality but we still love that, right?), so if this isn't success in every way then idk

This flower's essence is also said to be helpful for those who put up a mask over their painful sensitivity

Gojo also displays characteristics of cynism and mistrust towards the higher-ups

Furthermore, I think he is a little anti-social - doesn't have a lot of friends. As someone from the secret Jujutsu World, he's bound to be hidden in a way. This is enforced by the fact that he is the strongest, so a lot of people and curses are out to get his head. I'd think he doesn't keep anyone too close to him so that they do not become a target for anyone. Must be traumatizing to be him.

This flower helps soothen the soul's conflict, healing it slowly, which is exactly what Gojo needs imo

it really is the perfect flower for him

but it's native to North America

Yeah, watch him teleport there to bring back a bouquet of them for his s/o

Itadori Yuji - Protea (orange)

This kind of flower comes in many different shapes, which is why it's a symbol of transformation, which is exactly what Yuji embodies by going from a regular human being to being a Jujutsu sorcerer

Diversity: Yuji is open to anything, Gojo even described him as "having a few screws loose up there". I don't even think he questions how he is being taught by Gojo or anything for that matter?

Yuji also embodies courage and is known to be daring and i don't think i need to explain this one further

I mean, the boy literally jumped right into a curse to rescue Sasaki and Iguchi and help Megumi while not even knowing what a curse is

Orange proteas represent cheerfulness, joy and happiness - if that isn't our sunshine boy, then idk. After what happened to Junpei, he seemed a little down at first but recent episodes have shown that he will not slow down because of that and will keep on being the energetic fluffball of joy that he is.

moreover, they also symbolize unlimited possibilities as his cursed technique so far probably isn't even his final technique yet - compared to Nobara's hammer and Megumi's shikigami. All we know is that Sukuna's techniques are going to be his over time but we don't even know the full extent of the said curse's power yet

If anyone ever mentioned all this to him and showed him the flower, he would think it looks weird at first but will grow to find it interesting (especially the shape). It's not like the flower is native to Japan, so he most likely wouldn't have seen it anywhere.

Gets really excited if you were to give this baby one of these flowers

Fushiguro Megumi - Anemone (purple)

hear me out

The most common symbol for the purple Anemone is 'protection against evil'. While it's Megumi's primary focus in his line of work as a professional, you ought to know he became a sorcerer in the first place because of his sister, Tsukimi.

Fragility: While Megumi shows a lot of potential for growth, it's also said that he will most likely stagnate due to the mental aspect. He's pretty insecure about his own abilities and doesn't think much of himself but that doesn't mean he won't use his powers in order to protect someone.

Anticipation: As previously stated, Megumi shows a lot of potential as a sorcerer, even to the point that Sukuna (mind you, the creature that only cares about himself) has praised him and will not hesitate to make Megumi a pawn to whatever his big, mysterious plans may be. With that being said, if Sukuna himself is interested in our blue-haired boy, we can anticipate great things from Megumi in the foreseeable future.

This specific flower seems to be a double-edged sword in terms of symbolism. In some cultural circles, it is believed to be a symbol of bad luck, whereas in other areas it's seen as a lucky charm (in which we hope this is the one for our boy). I see the same principle applying to Megumi's descent and his mysterious technique - not gonna elaborate further though (feel free to ask though)

a rather dark symbol for this particular flower: "death of a loved one". In this case, I am referring to Tsukimi, his step-sister. She may not be dead but it is indicated that she is in a comatose state due to being cursed. It seems that Megumi does not know when - or rather whether - she will wake up or not. Knowing this boy, he probably has tried anything and everything in his power to wake her up (hell, he probably even consulted Gojo) but nothing worked so far. This poor boy is anxious about it all the time.

he's surprised anyone would even associate him with flowers but wouldn't mind it

Kugisaki Nobara - Orchid (mainly orange)

I had some trouble finding something for her but orchids seem to suit her best

couldn't really pick a particular color though but I am leaning towards orange

orange orchids represent: pride, enthusiasm and boldness

Nobara is very proud of who she is. She strikes me as a person who is not afraid to tell her story, even though she despices the countryside where she is from. She also takes pride in staying true to herself all the time, to the point of admitting that she only enrolled in Jujutsu High so that she could move to Tokyo to Yuji, who was basically a stranger at that time

She is also very enthusiastic about her own future. She knows she won't ever like having to exorcise curses but somehow, being a Jujutsu sorcerer excites her.

plus points for her being enthusiastic about winning in the Kyoto Goodwill Event Arc and just beating up the Kyoto students

I don't need to mention her being enthusiastic about shopping and sightseeing in big cities, do I?

Bold? Oh, she is bold. She has no filter when it comes to speaking her mind and would never hesitate to put anyone in their place. I see her going places in Gojo's revolution... and cussing at the superiors.

Yellow symbolizes new beginnings and friendships. Nobara does not have any problems making new friends, she adapts fairly well in new environments. There's also the way she mourned for Yuji, despite "only knowing him for two weeks" and I don't even doubt for a second that it was her making him hold the black funeral picture frame when he came back lol

Pink: grace, femininity, joy + purple: royalty and admiration

There is no doubt that Nobara tries to enjoy her life to the fullest *cough* moving to Tokyo

Moreover, there is something about her that just screams "queen behavior" to me and I don't even mean that in the slang sense. Have you all seen how graceful this girl moves? (I would like to thank MAPPA at this point)

Nobara shows respect where it's due - I'm just gonna mention Maki here - but is a very admirable girl herself

probably has an orchid plant in her room, ngl

Ryomen Sukuna - Snapdragon

please, the name already sounds a little dangerous

This flower shares a certain character trait with him: being unique

Snapdragons are usually associated with strength due to the way they even grow in rocky areas and if that's not screaming Sukuna's name, who is all about strength, then correct me

Deviousness is practically Sukuna's second name, so this symbol isn't exactly off the track either. Let me remind you about the way Sukuna and Mahito laughed at Yuji??

Graciousness: just like Nobara, he possesses some sort of grace that makes me percept him as a majestic being

but maybe that's just his throne of bones and title as King of Curses contributing

and him owning a shrine???

or maybe that is just the way he majestetically killed that special grade lol

"Only large insects like bumblebees can pollinate snapdragons because the petals are too heavy for smaller insects to push apart." I read this and if you reverse it a little, it somehow reminded me of the fact that Sukuna's fingers need to have a powerful vessel aka small fry won't do because they will simply die away.

Deception: despite being given the minimum amount of information about Sukuna in general, I just don't see him being anything but egoistic and evil. I just cannot picture it. So yeah, put everything evil in a pot, stir a little and don't be surprised if your result is not the Powerpuff girls but a four-eyed multi-talented and deceptive curse that is out to kill you for fun

[moiraineswife]

Mine - A Navani/Raboniel Fic

IT’S TIME FOR THE GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY. 

Title: Mine

Rating: M  Content warnings: Violence. Sexy violence. But still violence.

Summary:  Set during Rhythm of War. THEORETICALLY it’s canon-compliant. Just gayer. After several failed attempts, The Pursuer sends men to bring him Navani, believing Kaladin will come to the Queen’s aid if she’s in danger. Raboniel takes issue with this, and refuses to allow them to take Navani.

Teaser: ‘“You will tell him that Navani is mine. If he may claim that Windrunner, then I claim her. He will not touch her. He will not send men to take her from me. He will not so much as think of her or utter her name without my knowledge and consent. She is mine, and I will send every one of his worthless soldiers back to Braize screaming if that is what it takes to make that known throughout this tower.”’

Link: AO3

It had been a long time since Navani had studied by candlelight. 

Glowing gemstones had ruled her life for so long now. Woven into her hair as a symbol of status in Gavilar’s court. 

Counting spheres as the cost of conquest had piled on her shoulders as her husband had drunk, and killed, and warred his way to glory, with no idea what she did in the background to prevent his fledgling kingdom suffering economic and social collapse in the wake of his passing. 

Powering the fabrials that had brought her such joy and fulfilment, a constant support in her life. 

Now the Stormlight that fueled the Radiants as most of her family was pulled into this war. 

Raboniel preferred to work by candlelight. She said it soothed her, and reminded her of days when she’d been younger. Stormlight had not been plentiful for Fused in eras gone by. Odium had disapproved of it surrounding them, and Voidlight was a poor source of illumination. 

Navani had to admit they brought a certain warmth to the small room she was ensconced in with Raboniel. They were alone together now, as Raboniel had just dismissed the guards, who had been visibly wilting, and told them to send a replacement team down to them instead. 

There was no sound save the soft scratching of their pens on the notebook between them. Raboniel was studying her latest addition, making small, careful notations in the women’s script. 

One could tell a lot about another’s script, Navani felt. Jasnah’s for example, was pristine, a perfect example of the women’s script, honed over much time. Dalinar’s was less practiced, with large, bold lines, each word somehow making its own statement upon the page. 

Raboniel’s was sharper than Navani’s, more cramped. This was to be expected, given her unfamiliarity with it, but she wrote curiously, each spike and line written with a differing pressure or firmness, to a rhythm, she realised. Right now that rhythm was frantic, her eyes focused, entirely consumed by the work.

Navani understood that feeling. Like Raboniel, she had been many things to many people over her years. Mother, mentor, wife, queen. For herself, she was a scholar. Yes. A scholar. It was still sometimes difficult to ignore the words whispered in Gavilar’s voice at the back of her mind that told her she was nothing herself. Always defined by what she was to, and what she could get from, others. 

Raboniel had helped her see things differently. This was who she was. Navani. Not Queen Navani. Not Brightness Kholin. Just Navani. Navani was a creator, an inventor, a scholar, a pursuer of secrets, and she thrived in this environment. 

She felt the same way about Raboniel. 

She was many things to many people as well. A mother, certainly, even now that Essu was dead, by her own hand, she would never stop being a mother. A soldier, and a war leader. A servant of Odium. An immortal Fused reborn. A Voidbringer, in the minds of many humans. 

Raboniel, however, not the Lady of Pains, the Lady of Wishes, Ancient One, or General, just Raboniel was as Navani was: a scholar. She too thrived on this. She had ulterior motives, certainly, Navani had already seen several of them. 

Yet even without them, she felt sure she would be driven, as Navani was herself, by the question, the seeking, the taste of new knowledge, the thrill of uncovering things that had been buried for millenia, of cracking puzzles buried in the very fabric of their world that no-one had ever cracked before. 

In her heart, in the deepest, most fundamental fabric of her soul, Raboniel was a scholar. And in that way, mortal and immortal, Fused and human, their essence was the same. And it sang in harmony with one another in these moments, cloistered alone together, picking out the mysteries of ages gone by. 

It was a strangely intimate process. Navani had always worked in groups before. She had flitted between ardents and engineers and storm wardens like an insect pollinating flowers, bringing little bits of insight or inspiration, but never lingering with any. 

With this project, she had worked exclusively with Raboniel, for hours and hours at a time. They had only had one another to feed off of and consume with their theories, and thoughts, and ideas, and experiments. 

She felt as though she knew this woman, felt as though she connected with her, in a way she had rarely done with another human so swiftly. 

She adored the bones of Dalinar, she truly did. But it had taken a while to understand him. Part of the reason she had taken such time between Gavilar and Dalinar in their youth was that it took her a while to feel she knew a person, and was close enough to commit to them. 

How wrong she had been, in mistaking Gavilar’s mask for the truth of him. While she had missed the good heart buried beneath the layers of scar tissue Dalinar had hidden it behind all those years ago. 

Raboniel, though, she felt she knew her, knew her, beneath the blood and bones, straight to the soul, the moment they had first worked on Rhythm of War together, and she had looked into her eyes, and found that same bright, consuming, almost manic light gleaming in them that lived within her, too. 

With a small nod, her rhythm shifting to one of satisfaction, Raboniel pushed the notebook back towards Navani, gesturing her to the new notes that had been made in the Fused’s hand. 

As she bent to examine it, however, Raboniel sat up beside her, straight and intent, head turning towards the door. The way she sat when they were not alone, when she was a regal Fused, not a scholar. 

Navani turned, too, and found six of the Pursuer’s Fused soldiers standing in the doorway. 

Raboniel did not seem surprised. If anything she seemed...Resigned. 

Navani was not overly aware of the situation in the tower, but she knew that tension between the Pursuer and Raboniel’s calmer, more reasonable rule were straining. Especially as his hunt for Kaladin continued to refuse to bear fruit.  

Raboniel stood, and a power seemed to radiate from her, as if she were a perfect gemstone, containing an immortality’s worth of stormlight pulsing within. 

She was rather impressed that the soldiers didn’t turn and flee at once, as Raboniel reached her height and stared them down without a flicker of fear, despite being outnumbered six to one.  

“Our master has sent us,” the lead soldier said, red eyes gleaming as they flickered from Raboniel to Navani, still sat at the desk behind Raboniel, who suddenly felt like a shield against that hungry gaze. 

“I thought that he might,” Raboniel replied, her rhythm becoming dark and tempestuous. 

“Then you know why we are here, Lady of Wishes,” said another, taking a step forwards, “This can be resolved without any bloodshed.” 

Bloodshed? Navani felt herself growing cold. On some instinct, she picked up the Rhythm of War notebook and began to try to surreptitiously move to the back of the room. Putting as much distance between herself and these men seemed the most sensible course of action now. 

One of them noticed her, and began to hum in a loud, derisive rhythm, jeering, “See how it runs. The fear is obvious! She knows she is pursued.” 

Pursued? They were here for her? 

Raboniel glanced over her shoulder, long hair strands swishing around her like a cape as she did. She gave Navani a small nod, telling her she had done the right thing. 

“Do not fear such as these, Navani,” she said, her rhythm soft but strong, pulsing against Navani, almost strengthening her, “They do not warrant any reaction from yourself.” 

“It is true, then?” the lead soldier said, his rhythm scathing, his tone far bolder than any she had heard taken with Raboniel before, “You have grown fond of his human pet of yours, and it has made you weak, sucked the passion from you and put it into her instead.” 

Raboniel actually growled at him, her rhythm becoming dark and dangerous, Voidlight collecting around her hand as she stared the soldier down, “Do not forget yourself, Devail,” she said, her rhythm an angry, swirling snarl of sound. “I am not some common Fused like Lezian, and if you speak to me in such a way again you will regret it for the rest of your pathetic immortal existence, I swear to you.” 

Navani trembled and the words were not even directed at her. The soldier took a step backwards, humming softly in a rhythm of apology. As well he might. 

Raboniel took a breath, and looked at each of the men in turn, giving them a long, piercing look, “Is this something you truly wish to do?” she asked them quietly. 

“We’re under orders, Lady of Wishes,” the lead soldier said, “We’re not to use violence as a primary method of achieving those orders, but the Pursuer expects resistance. In that case, he says we are to achieve our goal at all costs.” 

Raboniel hummed a sharp, destructive rhythm, “You would raise your weapons against me, truly?” 

Oh Stormfather, Navani thought, trembling. This could turn ugly, well and truly. Raboniel was a competent warrior, she was sure, but she was primarily a scholar, thinker, and organiser, from what Navani had seen. The Pursuer’s men were among the most finely trained, as brutal and bloodthirsty as their master. 

“We would take up arms against one who tried to defend a human, Lady of Wishes,” the soldier said again, his rhythm respectful, but firm. 

Raboniel shook his head, “Lezian is a fool,” she hissed, “What does he possibly wish to accomplish with the queen that could be more than what I have accomplished with her?” 

“He will use her to lure his prize,” the soldier Raboniel had named Devail said, an indecent hunger in his eyes as he once again looked past Raboniel to Navnai, cowering on the floor behind them, feeling like a hog in a pen at a slaughter market beneath that gaze. 

“The Pursuer believes he can use the queen to draw forth Stormblessed,” the lead soldier said, “He would of course come to the defence of his queen were she threatened.” 

“Or publicly executed,” Devail added, with a gleeful grin. 

Navani quivered. She had rarely felt so helpless. She held the Rhythm of War against her chest, as though it could do anything to help her. She had no weapons, not even her customary painrial. She was tired, and weak, and fragile. 

If Raboniel gave her over to these men there would be nothing she could do to stop it. 

“He thinks to set an ambush for the Windrunner, using something the man will seek to defend to draw him to a place of contest, does he?” Raboniel asked, and her rhythm sounded strangely amused. Perhaps Navani could not read her correctly. 

“You are wise as ever Lady of Wishes,” the lead Fused said, with a small bow of the head, “This is indeed his intention.” 

“And why should it work this time when he has failed twice already, with far more fixed and defensible locations at the shield points?” Raboniel demanded scornfully. 

Devial took an angry step forwards but, wisely, his commander restrained him. 

“I will not relinquish an asset to him for the sake of his wounded, failing pride,” Raboniel continued derisively, “Navani is of far more use to me than Lezian could ever fathom to put her to in his wildest moment of clarity and intelligence.” 

“We are under orders, Lady,” the lead soldier said, “Our master was quite...Insistent.” 

“And you think I cannot be equally so?” Raboniel said, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning. “Return to your master and tell him that he has no authority to issue me with orders in this tower, or anywhere. Tell him he should count himself lucky I do not escalate this insult and return him to Braize, screaming. And tell him that if he wants to request something of me in future, then I expect him to pay me the respect I am due and come himself.” 

With that, she turned her back on them, as though done with them. Navani had to clap her safehand to her mouth to stop herself uttering a warning. It seemed so foolhardy for Raboniel to put her back to these men. 

The tension inside her was vibrating like a lost tone. She could barely breathe for the pressure of it welling inside her. Her eyes flicked up towards Raboniel’s face and found it wearing a soft, reassuring smile. 

“This was not an option our master will allow us to pursue, lady,” the lead soldier said, quietly. 

The Fused behind him drew their weapons, holding them in distinctly aggressive postures. 

Raboniel sighed heavily and turned slowly back to face them. 

“Perhaps I was not clear enough, captain,” she said, her voice quiet and dangerous, “I am giving you this chance to return to your master and have him confront me himself. Take it.”  

“I cannot, lady,” he said, shaking his head, “We were prepared for this eventuality, our master-” 

“If your master wishes so much for me to bleed him,” Raboniel growled, “Then perhaps he can cease being so cowardly and face me himself.” 

Devial made a noise of outrage at that, and several of the others hummed to an angry rhythm. “He already has his prey!” one of them called, “It would break centuries of tradition were he to pursue another before he has claimed the life of the Windrunner.”  

“What a convenient excuse,” Raboniel said scathingly. 

“We have no quarrel with you, lady,” the lead soldier interrupted, “We only want the queen.” 

“Then that is your quarrel with me, captain,” Raboniel snapped, “Navani is mine. As I have made clear to your master, and indeed to all who reside in this tower. If you wish to harm her, or indeed remove her from this room without my authority, then there will be a quarrel.” 

Navani felt almost breathless, as Raboniel glowered down at these men, heavily armoured, ancient, powerful, returned over and over to kill. And she stood her ground and stared them down to protect her. 

A part of her wanted to protest, wanted to stop this hopeless fight before it began. Raboniel being killed might have once been a desirable outcome, but her honour in this moment would not allow the woman to get herself killed protecting Navani, when the outcome would be the same. 

Yet these men terrified her. She did not want to leave this safe, quiet, candlelit room, her books, her scholarship, her safety that she enjoyed with Raboniel. 

She stayed quiet. Cowardly. And watched with wide eyes. 

“Then a quarrel it shall be,” the captain said, sounding resigned, but not altogether surprised. 

They had expected this? They had expected Raboniel to stubbornly face her death rather than simply handing Navani over? 

“Then come, quarrel with me,” Raboniel said in a dangerous hiss, drawing twin blades from her hips as she spoke, “And do make it quick, captain, I have work I must yet attend to tonight. 

There was a moment. A single, eternal moment that hung in silence for a cluster of frantic heartbeats. Like the breath of calm and quiet before the full force of the stormwall was brought to bear upon the world. 

Raboniel and the Pursuer’s men faced one another, Raboniel crouched low in an offensive stance, the men standing in a furious formation, weapons drawn, carapace gleaming, the flickering candlelight casting deadly shadows across their inhuman faces. 

Navani cowered in her corner and whispered a soft prayer to the Almighty, hands clutched over her chest, wishing, absurdly, that she had a glyphward to burn. 

Then the stormwall hit, and Navani pressed herself back against the wall, as if she could push herself into it and escape the cacophony of death and violence that erupted around her like a highstorm. She felt vulnerable, exposed, tied out to bear it alone, with no shield against what was coming. 

Except that she was not alone. Raboniel stood in front of her, protective, a shield against the horrors that had come for her. 

The Pursuer’s men moved forwards in a tight formation and they seemed, absurdly, wary. Though they were six warriors against one scholar, they seemed to actually fear Raboniel. 

A heartbeat later, Navani understood why. 

The men came for her, but she did not wait for them. In a single bound, she crossed the distance between them, and landed in their midst, blades flashing, teeth bared, hair flying like a banner behind her. 

Navani gasped as both of her blades - thinner, and shorter, than a common lighteyes side sword, pierced both eyes of a Fused in the centre of the group. He went down with her landing on his chest, like a mink atop a thrashing rat, his flailing limbs knocking into his companions and sowing chaos in their tight formation. 

Raboniel grinned a feral, dangerous smile at the others around her, then leapt, yanking her blades from the corpse of the Fused beneath her, and scraping along the carapace of the men before her. 

The noise it made was awful, and Navani clapped her hands to her ears. The scraping, shrieking sounded like a dirge of death, and the men around her flinched at the sound of it. 

This was clearly the reaction Raboniel had anticipated, for she sprang backwards out of the chaotic fray, putting her back once more to Navani, keeping herself carefully between her and the Pursuer’s men. 

She jerked her chin towards them, inviting them to come and take her if they could, and Navani felt a chill of understanding. 

In essence, this woman was like her. They were both scholars, driven by their passion for learning, for teasing the secrets from Roshar that it tried so hard to hide from them. But she was more. Far more. And one aspect of herself was this. 

The Lady of Pains. A Herald in her own right. A Herald of Death. Bearer of devastation and violence. A woman who held a sword as easily as she held a pen, and unravelled men with as much skill and precision as she unravelled secrets. 

She spun, both blades whirling through the air, flashing in the candlelight, casting terrible, dancing shadows against the walls. She caught another Fused in the throat and he stumbled, but Voidlight glowed from the wound, healing it. 

Before that could complete, she stepped in to him and rammed her blade, designed, Navani saw now, to pierce armour - or carapace - into his chest, and Navani heard the telltale crack as his gemheart shattered. 

A sword clattered against her back and she turned, snarling, blood flying from her blades, and parried the next swing that should have taken her head from her shoulders. She caught the blade between both of her own, crossed like a chasmfiend’s mandibles, and twisted, shattering the wrist of its bearer. 

He dropped the sword, screaming, and Raboniel moved in as though she might have kissed him, but breathed out, engulfing him in a cloud of blackness that began to devour his flesh while he howled in pain, clawing at it and writhing on the floor. 

Navani had thought herself a connoisseur of death. She had watched countless duels in her life, attended many wars. Her first husband had begun a war of conquest which had often spilled blood upon those closest to him. Her current husband waged a war for the world itself. Navani had seen the aftermath of battles, had even seen a few battles themselves. 

She had never seen anything like this. 

Raboniel moved faster than she would have believed, blades a silver blur, Voidlight rising from her skin as she swayed. 

Dalinar and Gavilar had been skilled. They had talent, practice, and shards to cause devastation. But this? This was an immortal who had been singing to a rhythm of war and death at Odium’s bidding from the moment she had drawn breath. 

She was like a shard all her own. Created to kill. She was like a highstorm, these men a foolish cry for it to quiet its winds, utterly lost to its fury and tempest. 

One of the men cracked the head of a spear against her shoulder and she turned, grasping at the staff. It crumbled to dust at her touch, but the blade remained intact. It fell, as if in slow motion, and she snatched and hurled it across the room, lodging it in the forehead of another who dropped instantly. 

The now weaponless man stared at her with eyes wide, full of fear, then full of nothing but death as Raboniel took both blades and rammed them, one on either side, into his chest, piercing directly to his gemheart. 

Pain flashed unexpectedly into Navani’s awareness. 

She looked down to find a knife slashing against her arm. A second later, it was at her neck, and she screamed, unable to stop herself, as Devial grabbed her and pulled her against him, blade held tight against her throat, sharp blade scraping the skin. 

Raboniel turned at once, locking on to the sound. She stumbled, as the captain struck her from behind. Without looking, her entire aspect focused on Navni, she whipped a knife from her belt and flung it behind her, narrowly missing the captain, who had to dance aside to avoid it. 

“Enough, Raboniel,” Devial panted, his breath hot in Navani’s ear, “I have her. Set down your blades. I promise I won’t torture her too much before I cut her pretty head off if you do.” 

Raboniel stalked towards him, her eyes blazing like the fires of Damnation, burning with hatred and disgust, each step that of a calculating predator. 

“Release her, Devial,” she breathed softly, a trickle of blood streaming from the corner of her mouth as she bared her fangs at him, “Or I will send you back to Odium begging never to be Returned again lest you be forced to face me and the torments I will unleash upon your worthless form again.” 

Devial laughed, and pressed the blade harder against Navani’s throat in answer. 

“So be it,” Raboniel whispered. 

She moved blindingly, far more quickly than Navnai had yet seen from her. In an instant, she had the blade at her neck in her hands, and it vanished to dust in a heartbeat, Navani dropping to the floor and scrambling away from the battling Fused, clutching at her throat in terror. 

Devial swung for Raboniel’s neck as his captain prowled around them, forcing Raboniel to keep one blade guarding her exposed back. 

Navani wanted to help but storms. She was just a scholar, and she would only get in the way. All she could do was whisper another frantic prayer to the Almighty. Something she never believed she’d utter for Raboniel’s sake. 

“You committed a gross slight against me just now, Devial,” Raboniel called to him, her eyes narrowed, “I will have you correct it before I send you back to Braize.” 

“Oh?” he said, “And what was that?” 

“You forgot my title when you addressed me in your scorn,” she said quietly, “I would remind you of it.” 

With that she lunged for him, throwing another dagger as she did, catching the captain in the hand so he could not intervene as she and Devial slammed to the floor. 

She rammed him through the stomach with both of her strange, pointed blades, pinning him in place as he writhed. Then she pressed her hand to him, forcing Voidlight into him, and caused his carapace to ignite, first like smouldering coals, then a roaring bonfire. 

Raboniel did not seem bothered by the heat as it engulfed him, writhing and screaming beneath her.  

She leaned in close to him, ripping her blades free of his abdomen, sending blood gushing from the wound it left, “I am the Lady of Pains, Devial,” she whispered to him, close and soft as she might to a lover. Then she rammed her blade into his chest and twisted, “My will in this tower is law. My word is final and absolute. And you will pay me the respect I am due by that title. Lest I remind you once more of its origin.” 

Navani had thought she would use her second blade to end Devial, puncturing either his gemheart or his spinal cord to finish him. 

Instead she rose from him, stepping away, leaving him writhing, consumed by flames and agony. His Voidlight supply healed him. Not fast enough to escape the death that was coming, but enough to prolong it, to ensure his last breaths would be spent in pain. 

Navani found she could not feel too sorry, but she did look away from him, watching to where Raboniel stalked towards the last of the men. Their leader, the captain, who cowered on his knees before her. 

He tossed aside his blade as she approached him, “I yield, Lady of Pains,” he said, voice cracking with fear. 

“Oh?” she said, sounding faintly amused, “And you would have allowed me to yield to you, or to Devial, had I been so pitiful as to demand that mercy, would you?” she demanded, rhythm pulsing with derision. 

“I, I-” the man panted, floundering, red eyes wide and terrified as he stared up at her. 

“Do not answer,” she snapped, “I do not need to hear you lie to me as a final insult for this day’s nonsense. I do not wish to hear you speak another word to me while you hold this body, lest I be reminded of this encounter, and your worthless part in it. Do I make myself clear?” 

The captain nodded frantically, humming to a remorseful, subservient rhythm. 

“Good,” she said, coldly. “You will return to Lezian, and you will tell him that my patience with him is growing thin, and if he thinks to test it again, he will be sorry. As sorry as Devial, there,” she said. 

As she spoke, she jerked her head towards the Fused behind them, now spasming and whimpering his last. 

The echoing silence left in the wake of his death was somehow worse than his screams. 

“You will tell him that Navani is mine. If he may claim that Windrunner, then I claim her. He will not touch her. He will not send men to take her from me. He will not so much as think of her or utter her name without my knowledge and consent. She is mine, and I will send every one of his worthless soldiers back to Braize screaming if that is what it takes to make that known throughout this tower.” 

She gave the captain a shove, sending him stumbling away from her. He scrambled to his feet, hovering, waiting to see if there was more she wished of him. 

“Get out of my sight,” she spat, waving a dismissive hand. 

He bolted at once. 

Navani sat, stunned, in the corner of the room, staring with wide eyes at the aftermath of what had happened. She put her fingers to her neck, feeling the faint cut there. It was not bad. Barely a scratch, in truth. But the memory of that blade against her skin, the feeling of the Fused’s clammy hands holding her, pressing her against him, as he spoke so lovingly of torturing her, made her want to claw herself out of her own body just to escape the memories. 

She was jolted back to her surroundings as Raboniel walked to her and crouched down beside her. 

She looked tired. Not physically tired, though. Voidlight, like Stormlight, would support her and stave off fatigue. She looked soul tired. The kind of tiredness that Navani saw when she looked into her eyes as she spoke of the war that had gone on so long for her. 

She had been created to kill, made to bring death to this world on Odium’s orders. She did it well. So very, very well. But she was tired of it. Ready to rest, to sleep, at long last. She was rusted through to her core, done, and finished. The only death she wanted now was her own, Navani was sure. 

“Are you alright?” Raboniel asked quietly, and Navani’s eyes snapped back to her eyes, focusing herself on them. 

“I-” Navani said, her voice shaking.

She wanted to say that she was fine, and she was, in comparison to everyone else in this room, Navani had absolutely nothing to complain about. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she kept repeating that single sound, in a progressively higher voice, shaking violently. 

“It will pass,” Raboniel said, gently, “Come here,” she coaxed Navani to her feet and led her into the small side room that connected to their study, away from the death. 

She settled her on the couch, poured her some strong sapphire wine and pushed the cup into her hands. Then she glanced to the next room, where Fused were calling in their own language, crying out. 

“Stay there,” Raboniel said quietly, “I will return for you in a moment.” 

Navani almost laughed at that command. It was the most unnecessary she had ever been given in her life. She couldn’t have moved if a highstorm had torn off the roof and come ripping through the room. 

Flashes of the battle continued to play out, against her will. Above it all, the look in Raboniel’s eyes as she had defended Navani. 

That had been more than a woman protecting an important asset from a political rival. More even than a necessary academic ally. That had been...Real. True, fierce protectiveness. And her declaration that Navani was hers? That she would murder her way through all of the Pursuer’s men if that was what it took to keep her safe? Storms. Storms. It was too much. 

She sat on the couch, staring into the violet depths of her wine, unable to bring it to her lips. It was taking all of her concentration and will to keep herself in check enough to stop it slopping over the sides with how her hands were shaking. 

Raboniel re-entered the room a moment later, crouching down in front of Navani with a bowl of some kind of clear, strong-smelling liquid and some other supplies she could not take in. 

“The guards I sent for arrived,” she said, quietly, “The Pursuer’s men drugged our earlier group, so that they would become more tired, more quickly, hoping I would send for replacements. I have asked them to put our rooms in order for us. They will take care of the-” 

“You saved my life,” Navani interrupted, hoarsely. 

She had been listening to what Raboniel had said, and a part of her mind recognised that it was important. But that part of her was composed, and in command, and poised. And Navani had never felt less like that in her life. So that part of her mind was most certainly not in charge at the moment. 

Raboniel paused, watching Navani with a strange expression. 

Then she set down her things and said, simply, “Yes. I did. You think I would simply have handed you over to them?” she asked. 

“I would have, if I had been in your position,” Navani replied. 

The words were coming out clipped and jerky. She was still staring straight ahead, not thinking clearly. What was she saying? She shouldn’t be telling her that. Next time she might not stand between Navani and those monsters. 

Curiously, Raboniel smiled, “I appreciate your honesty, Navani,” she said to a quiet rhythm, “But I do not think it is true. You would not have allowed someone to take a friend in your care.” 

“That’s what I am to you?” Navani asked, managing to tear her eyes from the spot on the wall she’d been fixating on, “A friend?” 

Raboniel hummed a soft rhythm she could not interpret. 

She did not answer, but gestured to Navani’s arm and said, “You were wounded, I would clean and stitch that for you, to prevent infection. I shall have the surgeons attend you tomorrow, but I do not want anyone else coming in or out of here tonight. It will be secured by my guards, and I will remain with you, in case Lezian attempts to strike again, thinking me weakened.” 

Navani nodded numbly, barely taking in what Raboniel was saying. Then. Wounded? 

She looked down and saw that, indeed, her havah was torn, and there was a long gash in her shoulder where Devial had first grabbed her. Made by a dagger, she thought? Or had it been his claws? She wasn’t sure. It was all a blur. It was all- Oh storms. 

Raboniel was achingly gentle as she began to unbutton her havah, saying quietly, “I need to move this out of my way, to work on you.” 

Navani nodded vaguely again. She would have let Raboniel do almost anything to her in this state. Some part of her, deeper than conscious sense or reason, trusted this woman. It had identified her as safe, the only safe thing left in her world. 

On a base, instinctual level, that part had seen this woman stand before her, fight to the death to defend her, then come to her afterwards to care for her. In her frantic, terrified state, an anxiety beyond panic or hysteria, she clung to whatever instinct guided her to, and right now, instinct guided her to Raboniel. 

Raboniel prodded gently at the wound in Navani’s shoulder, “Not bad,” she assessed, the quiet scholar returned once more, the feral, violent intensity of the battle gone now they were alone together again. “It will hurt, I am sure, but should cause no lasting damage.” 

“It doesn’t,” Navani replied mechanically, as Raboniel began to clean it, “Hurt,” she added, rather foolishly. 

Raboniel nodded, “Be grateful for that reprieve,” she said, wryly, “It will, once your mind catches up with what your body has just experienced.” 

“It was so much,” Navani whispered. 

The part of her brain that still had a wit left, chided her for the foolish comments, pointing out that Raboniel would not want to hear such babbling from her. 

Raboniel only nodded however, “Your first time is always a lot. The next will be easier.” 

Navani trembled and violently shook her head, “I do not want there to be a next time,” she said, swallowing hard. 

“None of us ever do, Navani,” Raboniel said quietly, “Each time I am forced to pick up my blades and kill again, I hope it will be the last. It never is. I told myself I should stop hoping it will be, as that is foolish, and repeated evidence has been put in front of me that there will always be more. Yet some time will be the last. So I hope for it. Still. I hope for it.” 

“I’m sorry,” Navani said, stupidly, as though she had anything to apologise for, as though any of this had been by her design, “That you had to kill again today on my behalf.” 

“Do not apologise, Navani,” Raboniel said softly, removing a curved needle and surgeon’s thread from the small pile beside her, “For all the times I have had to kill most recently, you have been the most worthy reason I have done so.” 

Their eyes met, and a flicker of warmth flared in Navani, pushing through the cold fog that had descended upon her after the battle. 

Clumsily, she reached out and cupped Raboniel’s cheek in her hand, stopping her from looking away, and taking that warmth with her, keeping her in place, looking at her, for just a little longer. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, voice hoarse again, but sounding more like her. 

Raboniel placed a gentle hand over Navani’s, then smiled and, sounding faintly amused as she hummed, said, “I appreciate the sentiment Navani, truly, but I need two hands to finish my stitching.” 

Navani blushed as she realised she had clutched onto Raboniel’s hand without realising, seeking to anchor herself in this moment of chaos and terror. She released her, and focused instead, watching Raboniel’s movements as she stitched. 

The pattern was not the one favoured by modern human surgeons, but the stitches were neat, precise, and well-judged. She was obviously practiced. 

“I wouldn’t have thought this was a skill you would need to have,” Navani said, finding that she needed to say something, unwilling to let the moment lapse into silence, “Given that you can use Voidlight to heal yourself.” 

Raboniel hummed quietly, nodding, “This is true. But it was a skill I had acquired before I became Fused.” She looked up to see Navani’s curious look, and explained, “My mother was a seamstress, many years ago, and she taught me.” 

“You remember it?” Navani asked, amazed, “From so long ago?” 

“I maintained the skill, over many years, and many returns,” she explained quietly, “It was not something that I wished to lose. I taught Essu, also, when she-” she faltered for a moment, and Navani squeezed her hand. Raboniel took a breath and continued, “I wanted her to have skills beyond what Odium wished her to know in order to kill. I thought, perhaps, it may help, to have an anchor, something familiar, not drenched in blood, to return to. It was not enough.” 

She trailed off, and though it made her feel as though she were being repeatedly stabbed, Navani allowed the silence to swallow them, not wishing to interrupt Raboniel’s moment of grief. 

A guard glanced into the room as Raboniel finished up, and Navani jumped so badly that Raboniel almost tore out the row of stitches she’d just finished. 

Resting a hand gently on Navani’s knee, Raboniel turned and said, “Speak.” 

“The area is secure, Ancient One,” the guard said, giving her a salute, “We will remain in the outer chamber, with you and the Queen protected here. If we see any of the Pursuer’s men, we shall call for you at once.” 

“Thank you, Vardwi,” Raboniel said, nodding in thanks to the guard, who withdrew with a respectful nod. 

“Will they come for me again?” Navani found herself asking. 

The usual filter that existed between her brain and her mouth seemed to have broken, and she could not stop her tongue giving voice to her fears. 

Raboniel looked at her, eyes steady, intense, “I will not lie, they may,” she said quietly, “But if they do the result shall be the same. They shall not have you. Though we Fused are of Odium, you will find that I can keep my oath as well as your Bondsmith, Navani.” 

“You would do that?” she breathed, “You would cut down your own, possibly anger Odium...For me?” 

“You have proven yourself, Voice of Lights,” Raboniel said simply, placing hands on her knees and starting to rise, “And you are mine. Under my protection and in my care. It would shame me, were I to allow Lezian to harm you. It-” 

She broke off suddenly, swaying slightly in place, putting a hand to her head. Navani reached out to steady her, alarmed, guiding her back down onto the couch she was on. 

“What is it?” she asked, sharply, alarmed. 

Raboniel groaned, “It appears that I have a dagger in my back,” she said, conversationally. Her eyes twinkled as she glanced to Navani, “I might have suspected you as the source of it, if I did not know better Navani" she murmured with a smile. “I will need to ask you to remove it, however.” 

“What?” Navani said, feeling suddenly a little faint. 

“It appears I have shifted the blade while moving, it has nicked my lung, which is beginning to fill with blood. It’s a rather unpleasant sensation,” Raboniel informed her matter-of-factly, as if there was a problem in one of their experiments. “Voidlight has healed me as it can around the wound, but cannot repair my lung while there is a dagger in the way. I will need you to take it out.” 

Navani swallowed as Raboniel turned in place, and she spotted the hilt of the dagger protruding from her back, just beneath her ribcage. 

“Stormfather,” she whispered hoarsely. She reached out to grip the hilt and pull it free, but her hands were shaking so badly. “I, I can’t Raboniel,” she said, staring at the blade, at the blood leaking from the wound, remembering the terror that had only just passed. “My hands- My hands won’t stop shaking, I can’t, I-” 

Raboniel turned, wincing as that shifted the blade again, and held Navani’s hands in her own, “You can,” she said, her rhythm comforting. “It is only shock, Navani, it shall pass. But I need you to do this for me now, do you understand?” 

“Yes,” Navani whispered, taking a deep breath and trying to master herself, “Yes, I. Yes.” 

Raboniel turned in place again, coughing and spitting up blood as she did so. Navani trembled, then wrapped her freehand around the hilt of the dagger, bracing the other against Raboniel’s back. 

“Are you ready?” she asked, shakily. 

“Make it quick,” Raboniel answered, “One, swift motion. And do resist the temptation to try to ram it into my gemheart, won’t you?” she added, glancing over her shoulder and smirking, “That would be rather poor repayment, don’t you think?” 

“I wouldn’t,” Navani said, and knew that it was true. 

Once she might have done. Once she would have taken a knife willingly presented to her in the back of this Fused, and thrown it all to the winds in an attempt to rid herself, and this tower, of her. But she couldn’t. She knew that. And not just because Raboniel had risked her life to save her tonight. 

Navani took a deep breath, then yanked, swift and sure as she could manage. The knife resisted her, the skin having healed up around her, and Raboniel buried a scream in the cushions of the couch beside her as Navani tore the wound open again. 

Then her body slumped, relaxing, and Voidlight began to heal the wound, leaving Navani quivering with a knife in her hands. 

Raboniel turned and took it from her, gently, then used a handkerchief to wipe the blood from it before handing it back, hilt first. 

“You should have some way to protect yourself,” she said, firmly. “Even if you have no training, it is not too difficult to ram the sharp end somewhere that seems painful.” 

Navani nodded and accepted the blade with trembling hands. Then, with nowhere to currently sheathe it, and no desire to be in contact with it, and the memories it carried with it, she set it aside on the arm of the chair. 

“What now?” she asked, slightly tremulously. 

“We shall rest,” Raboniel said, firmly, “It is late, and you look as though you’re ready to faint with exhaustion and stress.” 

She got to her feet, and Navani found herself grabbing for her hand again, saying urgently, “Where are you going?” 

Raboniel crouched down and covered her hand with her own, squeezing, “To speak with my guards,” she said, humming to a soothing rhythm, “And to inspect the defences they have set up against Lezian’s men for tonight.” 

“You will return?” Navani asked, feeling an absolute fool the moment the words were out of her mouth, yet somehow grateful to her fool self for asking it, so she might hear the answer. 

Raboniel hummed in affirmation, “I will not leave you, Navani,” she promised quietly, “I shall remain here tonight with you. And none shall harm you. I swear it.” 

Navani nodded, then released Raboniel and allowed her to step from the small side chamber back into the main study to converse with her guards. 

Trembling, Navani managed to will enough control into her shaking legs to get them to carry her to the small writing desk in the corner. 

There, she took a scrap of parchment, brushpen, and ink, and painted a glyphward of thanks, which she burned in one of Raboniel’s candles. 

***

[wrenhyperfixates]

Loki Series Thoughts—The Variant

With the release of episode 2, I’m back with another analysis. Spoilers ahead!! This will be a combination of personal thoughts, theories, and objective analysis. This is overall, a positive review, so if you do not want to see that, I would not recommend continuing to read. I am however more than open to some friendly debate and discussion over any and all of the following points, whether you agree or disagree with them.

With all that being said, let’s dive in:

I feel gypped on the Holding out for a Hero fight scene. I mean, I liked how the scene was shot, especially with the whole loudspeaker thing (it set the mood very well), but where’s Loki fighting to that song?

Alright, I might as well address the elephant in the room: Is Loki OOC? Well, for my money, the answer is both yes and no. And I don’t mean to be wishy-washy; it really kind of depends on how you define OOC and/or who exactly you take this Loki to be.

What does OOC mean? To me, the literal definition of “out of character” would be the character acting in a way unlike they’ve been seen acting before. Likewise, according to Collins Dictionary it would be defined as “not typical of the apparent character of a person or thing.” Now, that’s a bit too black and white. What if you have a character in a new situation, how do you know how they’d react? By analyzing their past actions and seeing if they line up. And if you stop at this point and deem Loki entirely OOC, well you’re allowed to and that’s valid. I, however, would not say entirely is the word to use. Somewhat, yes, but not terribly and not inexcusably so. I’ll come back to this in a moment.

Who is this Loki? He’s the one right after the Avengers, of course, but he’s something different too. Think about it, the whole series is centered around how different choices can shape the very fabric of the universe. Wouldn’t it stand to reason that changes in Loki’s story would cause him to behave differently than what we’ve seen before? This is, in essence, a different Loki, albeit one who’s own narrative is shaped by a shared backstory with ours. It even says it on his jacket in big, bright letters: VARIANT. So while he shouldn’t be too dissimilar from the Loki we know, I do not think we can entirely look to the old to determine the new.

Now that we have that out of the way, we’re back to my somewhat noncommittal answer of the original question. Loki has some moments that seem OOC, but almost always has a (valid) reason for acting that way, both in and out of universe.

Loki’s OOC moments:

◦ The Renaissance Fair: And I by no means think this applies to his whole spiel. In fact, I think it was largely in character. What got me was “Which is absurd, because my people are, by nature, gullible fools. A trait that I, the God of Mischief, exploited time and time again simply by listening.” And then again, right after B-15 announces they are one unit away from red line. Though, my issue with the latter is how rushed it is. This could make sense because he’s worried about having time to finish his ploy. It’s a small thing to harp on for sure, though, for the point I am trying to make.

◦ In the hallway: This is where I think he’s most OOC. It feels rambley and pointless. More a desperate plea than a calculated last resort.

◦ With the librarian: I was hesitant to put this one in, but he seemed a bit unsure at points in his dialogue here. The inflection of his voice in the middle just sounded, like I said, unsure.

◦ The cafeteria (both times): More so in the first. The metaphor was, like Loki himself said, clumsy. But what I really think is OOC here is how excitable and obvious he is after Mobius concedes, “Not bad.” And the only thing on their second cafeteria chat is at the very end. His response of “I know” to being called clever, once again has an inflection to it that I would not typically associate with Loki—it’s too pronounced.

◦ Pompeii (beginning of scene only): Loki seems pretty flippant about the whole thing in the immediate moments after their arrival. (As an aside, I don’t think he’s necessarily unsympathetic here; he knows what happens and to keep himself safe and prove his point, he can’t branch the timeline.) To be quite honest, I think he might just be goading Mobius as he’s done to our God of Mischief many a time already.

◦ Before Roxxcart: He seems nervous, and his speech is a bit rushed again. Then again, this is something he wants—to be better. I’d think he’d be a bit more calm about it, though. Then again, with everything that’s happened recently, maybe it’s a natural response?

The reasons why he seems OOC:

◦ It’s on purpose: He knows what they think of him. If he plays into that, even in an exaggerated way, they’re not going to call bs on it.

◦ He’s been through a lot/Not our Loki: Like I mentioned earlier, not only is this a new environment, it’s a new Loki. He’s been shaped differently from our Loki because of how he was immediately thrust into the world of the TVA after many traumatic experiences.

◦ It’s an acting choice: No, it’s not one you have to agree with. But I believe Tom could be doing it to highlight moments where Loki is saying things he personally does not actually believe or that he knows others believe. Just to distinguish from the more calculated lying he does.

So, are there moments when Loki acts OOC? Yes. Is it inexplicable? No. Are the answers to those questions always the same from person to person? No, because like so many things, it’s all about how you frame it. And, of course, every person perceives each moment of time through their own eyes, with their own thoughts, in their own ways.

Loki has plenty of moments in character, too. In fact, I’d say he was overwhelmingly in character, for my understanding of it. In the earlier parts of the Renaissance Fair he is witty and lying with ease. At all other points that I didn’t mention, I found his vocabulary and inflection perfectly fine. I can’t think of any one moment his hand gestures particularly stuck out to me as out of place. And during his impromptu magic lesson, he seemed so sure of himself. He has snark without being rude. His interactions with “the variant” are on point. Even in the majority of the Pompeii scene, he’s not acting OOC, he’s just acting. He wanted to make an over-exaggerated splash to test his theory. Between that and speaking Latin, aren’t we seeing his cunning and wit?

Well, with that divisive and slightly negative topic out of the way, let’s move onto Mobius, his character, and his role in the show. He’s a bit different than the Mobius we see last time. Don’t get me wrong, there’s still moments where he seems to be manipulating Loki, or at least attempting to (the walk to the elevator; dangling a meeting with the Time Keepers in front of Loki’s face). In episode two, he’s presented as a victim. Mobius is just as much a slave to the “sacred timeline” as those living in it. He can’t go into the world and do the things he wants to do. Even any questions about time that Loki has, he answers seemingly by rote (perhaps drilled into his brain through propaganda?) or he can’t explain well (note, two times he somewhat hesitantly deems what Loki says as “an oversimplification”).

We’re also told that Mobius has a soft spot for broken things. That seems like a bold thing to say if Mobius hasn’t done something big before. Has he possibly ever used a variant like this before? Could he even possibly have a deeper connection to the rouge variant? Probably not on that second one, but it’s not wholly impossible. Though, going back to “has he done this before?” (and get ready for me to get absolutely insane now) do the rings on the table have deeper symbolic meaning pertaining to this? Yes, it could have just been for comedy, it may have just been a cool shot, but why put so much focus and emphasis on it like that with the camera and dialogue if it has no significance. Basically what I mean is, it’s symbolic of Mobius messing up. He messed up Renslayer’s table, maybe he botched a mission. Or maybe he even screwed up when working with another variant. Regardless of whether that’s symbolism, we do see him have a soft spot for the people at the hurricane shelter.

Mobius’s role in episode 1 was trying to break down Loki and recruit him. In this episode, he was more of a guide, more of a friend. Yes, there are lines like at Roxxcart when he says he knows he can’t be trusted, but there’s also a lot of camaraderie between the two. By the time Loki and Mobius are having their second chat in the cafeteria, they seem familiar with each other, engaging in what seems to be a friendly bout of verbal sparring. They seem, at very least, fond of each other, and I believe Mobius is, to some extent, on Loki’s side.

In fact, Mobius and Loki share something in common; they want something more than what the time keepers have preordained for them, even if Loki is more ready to admit that. Mobius is still, however, playing the part he’s been assigned, his “glorious purpose.” And, yes that includes some digs like that at Loki, whether Loki’s in the room or not, and whether they’re subtle or not. Is “I’ll delete him myself. He’s really arrogant.” really a dig though? I mean, it sounds like he could just be saying what Renslayer wants to hear. And when he talks about Loki wanting something more, wanting to change, I don’t think he’s actually talking about Loki. With the inflection and stage whisper, it almost sounds like he’s projecting. Remind you of anyone? Mobius will likely end up helping Loki, or may even turn into a tragic hero, his fatal flaw being his unwillingness to admit the TVA is not infallible.

The TVA workers. Isn’t odd how some of them have names and others don’t? Do they name themselves? More likely, I think whoever is in charge of a branch of the TVA gets a name, and all underlings get the less than human mix of letters and numbers with which to identify themselves. It also seems that the people with the most personality are the ones with names. B-15 has a personality, sure, but it’s more just in line with “I work for the TVA. This is what they want. I will do exactly that.” It’s almost lacking something that the named characters have lying beneath the surface of their character arc.

And then she gets enchanted, and if Wunmi Mosaku wasn’t already shining with the limited story for the character, oh boy she is now. When B-15 comes to, she is scared. It’s on her face and in that little shuddered breath. And when asked what happened, she seemed so unsure, timid. I’m definitely interested to see how that progresses!

Back to the workers in general, they didn’t seem as sad about their coworkers this episode as in the last. Even with C-20 it seemed to be a respect thing. I mean, they reset the timeline with their colleagues lying dead on the floor. I think in a lot of scenarios, dead soldiers would be given a proper burial.

Ravonna Renslayer and the time keepers. Renslayer is even more steadfastly devoted to the sacred timeline and the time keepers than anyone else. Why? Well, I think it’s because she is the time keepers. Any time they’re brought up, it’s quickly explained away with a simple “they’re busy.” That’s because they’re not real. But Renslayer sure seems chummy with them, huh? What other reason then its her timeline she has everyone protecting.

Then again, she may only be second in command, but not to the time keepers. (I mean, omniscient and omnipotent beings who are relatively aloof and unreachable? They’re perfectly set up to be revealed as not real. Plus the constant non-answers when it comes to them, I’ll be more surprised if they’re real than if they’re not.) But in the comics, her plot line is interwoven with that of Kang the Conqueror, a time traveler, among many other things. Even more likely than her being in charge, is him being in charge.

And now for the variant. It’s not Lady Loki, we all know that right? Ok, that comes off a bit harsh, but she is listed as Sylvie in the credits for languages other than English. This was also who Sophia Di Martino was previously listed as on IMDb. I won’t get into her story in the comics now, but I’d bet we’ll take elements of that in her story in the series. And if you’re still not convinced that’s who this is, why have her blonde? It just doesn’t make sense to change that about her. Plus, Sylvie takes on the name of Enchantress. What does Loki say her powers are? Enchantments. She doesn’t want to be called Loki either. She does say the main Loki variant is her, but if she’s framing him or taking on his persona for her crimes, why stop now? Her language is distinctly un-Loki like, too. She also boldly declares “This isn’t about you.” And finally, there’s the foreshadowing in Loki’s line, “I would never treat me like this.”

I only wonder what her motives are. Is she looking for revenge on the Loki from her timeline? Or perhaps she’s working fo him? Maybe he’s dead and she’s avenging him? Or he’s alive and she wants to grab his attention? Maybe she has motives all her own. And what of Mephisto? Does he actually play a part in this? I’m just spitballing, I need more information.

When Loki finds the file. No. Like. Give a detailed description of this please!!!!! He thinks he’s evil. That he causes all that death with malicious intent. Even if he doesn’t, there’s clear pain over the destruction of Asgard. And look at his eyes, the only thing we’re shown as he process the information fully for the first time. He’s hurt, confused. Disappointed and angry with himself. The bit we’re shown of his face before it zooms in on his eyes portrays this too. He looks so lost in that shot. And he looks to be tearing up a bit.

Maybe I’m just being dumb, but what does it mean 9,719 casualties? Didn’t they all escape? His face as the scene zooms back out is... defeated. Scared. Scarred. He’s barely holding it together. Then something else catches his eye, giving him an idea. And I’m sure more than anything he wants to be distracted from the storm in his mind. So yeah, he’ll happily throw himself into his work. The epiphany on his face as he’s still recovering and discovering new things is just so perfect too.

The confrontation at Roxxcart. This was really well done, I felt. Loki felt in character, and he was fighting smartly, using what he could. Because clearly the enchantment also lent Sylvie’s powers to the person. But Loki manages to hang in there and dig for information while keeping the battle going.

He gets mad, too. He starts yelling. And that makes sense. He wants answers, and for so long he’s been denied them; it’s a recurring theme in his life. He’s losing control of himself a bit here. And that’s a large part of the reason why he goes through the time door. Loki doesn’t want to lose control again. I don’t even know if it was exactly a betrayal of the TVA. I don’t think he’s on their side, but I think he just saw that he couldn’t lose the variant again. Because for what he says his plan is, he wouldn’t have followed the variant. However, he does because he wants answers.

What about that plan though? I’m working a bit in reverse with this scene I realize, but bear with me. That look on his face as he stands, it’s calculating. I think he’s lying about his plan. I think he’s trying to bring the variant in, not work with them.

Also, I’m so concerned for C-20. What’s real? I want to know!! But we’re already getting a feel for Sylvie’s powers. The people she enchants live, but they’ve seen something they’d rather not. What other reason is there for the similar way B-15 and C-20 act? And I know she mentions telling Sylvie the time keeper’s location, but really, it’s their location to her knowledge. It doesn’t necessarily mean they exist. Or maybe it’s just Kang.

And Mobius at the very end of this scene, the very end of the confrontation, the very end of the episode. The last thing is him calling after Loki. And he sounds genuine, almost. It didn’t sound like he was fearful for his own life, but rather more worried for Loki. Though, maybe I have that confused and it’s worried about Loki. Whatever the reason, it sounded like genuine fear in his voice to me.

Finally, some random thoughts that didn’t fit anywhere:

Gugu Mbatha-Raw is so talented. I mean, I got a lot of emotion from Renslayer. Confident and proper at the beginning, panicked and afraid at the end. Even in her talks with Mobius, there’s many subtleties to pick apart. I think it’s heavily implied through her words and actions that she’s evil.

The casual magic use was great. Hope there’s more.

Why do setting off reset charges in the main timeline have a different effect than setting them off in the branch timelines? Like shouldn’t it wipe it, not make branches?

Loved all the rapport happening in the episode. There was a lot of good dialogue.

Despite the manipulations going on, I like the relationship forming between Mobius and Loki. I think they make a nice little duo.

I love all the Loki variants we’re shown. Very, very interesting. Just give us Jötunn Loki for real, please.

Loki was very clever this episode, particularly with figuring out you could hide in an apocalypse and at Roxxcart.

Does Roxxcart have a link to Roxxon?

Their little motto thing is a bit creepy. “For all time. Always.” Sounds like it’s just part of their propaganda.

“You see, I know something children don’t. No one bad is ever truly bad. And no one good is ever truly good.” I love this line. Seriosuly, why not use this sound bite in the trailers? Loki himself is morally gray, and I love that we’re addressing this fact of life; the world is not all black and white, not all good and bad.

CASEY!!!

In the second cafeteria scene, there is a guard in full armor just standing there. I guess they’re monitoring the employees. How likely does whoever is in charge think it would be for an uprising of sorts to happen?

Between sleepy Loki, him putting that jacket on, his hair, that talking to himself and that annoyed little shh in the library, and just being the happy goof that he is deep down (Miss Minutes scene and salad metaphor) Loki was just so adorable this episode.

I think it’s important Mobius said sorry when talking about ragnarok. He knows Loki cares.

Mobius does kind of understand Loki when saying he has an “insecure need for validation.” He’s right, honestly, albeit harsh. But that’s all he wanted throughout the Thor movies too, not to be looked down upon. To be treated as equal. As worthy.

Of Mobius’s two options for why he’s sticking his neck out for Loki, I think they both hold some truth.

Interesting how TVA agents like to keep souvenirs from lives they can never live. Though maybe Renslayer keeps them for a different reason. Like from timelines that were particularly a threat to order—her order.

The score is still on point. Loving the theremin.

Wow an explanation pertaining to time travel I’ve found no holes in. It’s unstable and they have to enter in real time (furthest point on the branch) because of that. Ok, yeah. Checks out.

I’m so glad they kept the title card from last week. I like it so much better than the one from the trailers, and it fits the vibe of the show better.

Is it bad I want all these new branches to red line? I think it seems a little too early into the show for that to happen, but maybe a few of them will? Perhaps improbable but not impossible. But think of the chaos! What better playground for the God of Mischief than a universe thrown into disarray.

And now, my final thoughts. A very good episode with a mainly in character Loki. I like how we’re slowly learning more with what’s going on, while still keeping an element of mystery. Though, Marvel’s twists aren’t landing as well as I think they were hoping (assuming I’m right of course. I’ve seen plenty of other people who were thinking along the same lines though, so). It’s lacking a certain je ne sais quoi that Glorious Purpose had, but I still enjoyed it. Overall, 8/10. Let’s just hope my rating doesn’t go down point with every episode.

Like something I said? Totally disagree? Really want to talk more about one point? Whatever it is, I’d love to hear! Reblogs and comments are appreciated. My ask box is always open, and anon is always on. I look forward to hearing your thoughts! Thanks :)

Me, after not liking one, but two episodes: