#updated allegiances will be coming after next update!

[cutieclangen]

Moon 17, Part 2

Crowheart you can't be doing that >:c

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Moon 12 Allegiances

[covetyou]

stars and stripes

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pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: nipple play, novelty underwear, balls, anxiety, democracy, the pledge of allegiance, friendly brotherly contest, alcohol, prelude to oral sex (m! receiving) word count: 5k summary: Roles are reversed this Fourth of July when you surprise Joel with a little festive treat of your own.

A/N: happy 4th of July to folks in the US and happy general election day to my fellow UK pals! If you haven't exercised your right to vote yet, and you're registered, you have until 10pm BST tonight to get to your polling station - as long as you're in line by 10pm, you'll be able to vote. do dress up Joel proud, and go do a democracy.

I make absolutely no apologies for anything in this fic. not a single thing. especially not that thing. tis the season. happy ballidays, pals!

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As it turned out, Joel knew a guy who knew a guy who could fix your AC, and within two days your house was a safe haven from the burgeoning Texas summer.

Easy as that, apparently. Your desperate attempts to call around HVAC companies the week your AC busted seemed stupid now that it was all a matter of simply knowing a guy.

Not that it was all easy. Letting someone else into your house after everything that had gone on suddenly felt scary, and it took Joel promising you he'd dip from his own job for the afternoon to keep an eye on things for you to feel okay with any of it.

But, even that left an odd feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You'd told him to let himself in, though this time you'd given him a key, and that felt like something. For as many times as he'd broken in, and for as long as you'd left your house open and vulnerable - and, by extension, yourself - handing over your spare keys to Joel for the day felt more vulnerable than you'd ever felt with him wandering your house at unknown hours of the day and night.

It felt like something all over again when you handed them over to him the next week too - there was a jammed drawer he wanted to fix, and he said he could get in to see to it before work one day.

Even when you opened the door to him on the nights he didn't have Sarah - his daughter, you'd learned - it felt like something. Especially knowing that that spare key now sat attached to his own, jingling in his pocket each time he walked into your home, invited.

And the more somethings it felt like, the less you felt like figuring it out.

It continued the same way for weeks. Him moving back and forth the short distance between his home and yours, while you stayed safely cocooned in your own, cool, four walls.

Then, barely one month into this officially unofficial something that you were, it was finally time for you to make that short journey down the street to Joel's.

Being honest, the thought of it had terrified you, and you'd almost backed out multiple times.

Not because it was Joel, or Joel's house - at least, that's what you told yourself - but because a "the whole neighborhood is invited, bring snacks or beer" type of Fourth of July party wasn't the kind of way you'd envisioned your first time in Joel's home. You figured maybe it'd be dinner, or a movie, or a quick fuck against the stairs with Joel's balls trussed up in something. Normal things.

Not loud peopley things.

Still, you readjust your top once more, take the briefest of glances in the mirror, and head out the door anyway, nerves be damned. You can totally handle a Fourth of July BBQ at Joel's house.

You think you can all the way up to Joel's driveway, when the nerves come back with a vengeance and you stand there, feeling sick, listening to the sounds of people and music coming from the backyard.

You try to tell yourself it all makes sense. It's a new place, a place that should mean so much because it's his, but try as you might you can't fight back the panic rising as you think of the very many faces that are going to be in this new place too. Familiar faces, faces you'd seen most days as you went about your life down this street you called home, people you'd shared small talk with and said good morning to almost every day as you left for work.

Then there's this stupid outfit you're wearing. The you from weeks ago chose it the very same day you said yes to Joel's invitation, and the you of today didn't have the energy or inclination to think of anything else. Wear whatever, Joel had said, it's just a casual thing. So, you'd gone for casual.

Braless is casual, right?

Not that that was a specific choice, more a necessity. You'd chucked the third bra on the floor in a huff, cursing your shitty outfit choice and lack of bra to fit it, and instead decided to stick on some nipple pasties and be done with it.

All that's done now, and now here you are, still standing like an idiot in the driveway, closer to Joel's home than you have ever been, psyching yourself up to go inside.

With a deep breath of the dry Texas heat, you head for the open back gate, the soft sound of your shoes on the paving stones so loud in your ears as everything wooshes and fizzes in your head.

It's somehow both better and worse than your expectations.

You're immediately greeted by a sea of recognizable faces, the bottle of wine you forgot you were even holding whisked out of your hand and taken inside before you can even get your first round of hello's in. You don't have much of a chance to be nervous, or self conscious, or any of the things you'd worried about being in the days leading up to being here, because there's just so much of everything around you. Noises, smells, people.

Everything, except for Joel. You've not caught a single look at him since you got here - minutes ago - and you wonder if he's even here and not relaxing back at your place on the couch.

Then you see him. At least, you think it's him. His back is to you, locked into conversation so fierce he hasn't noticed the commotion about your entrance.

You think it's him, but you're also certain you don't know of anyone else who would dress head to toe in red, white, and blue candy stripes. The sight of it makes you forget your own outfit worries as a grin forms on your face, and that familiar rumbling of something in the pit of your stomach comes back all over again.

"Not eyein' the very slightly younger model, are you?" comes a gruff voice that has you twisting rapidly on the spot, the smile barely given chance to fall from your face when you spot the actual, real life Joel standing right there next to you, cold beer in hand.

In your own defence, real life Joel isn't dressed much better than the other Joel stood over the other side of the yard. He's probably dressed worse, actually. He's head to toe in stars, all the way from the novelty headband on his head to the flashing star lights clipped to his shoes. It's gaudy, and camp, and so perfectly Joel that the smile that dipped from your face for all of half a second is back, and you're grinning up at him, that feeling in your belly violently boiling away now that he's right there.

"Oh, him?" you say with a wave of your hand. "Nah. He's like a dollar store version of you."

"Really? I'll be sure to tell Tommy he's Dollar Store Joel from now on. He'll love that. Hey, Tommy!" he calls over the yard, before slipping his free hand behind your back. "C'mon. Let me introduce y'all."

He guides you over, hand never leaving the small of your back, touching you out here in front of all these people as if you are actually officially the kind of something that everyone should know about. And maybe you are.

But then, you're looking into familiar friendly eyes, so similar to the ones you've been staring into and dreaming of since Christmas, and watching this familiar strangers face light up so brightly you briefly wonder if his joy is misplaced until he's wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug.

"Shit, he weren't lying," says Tommy as he rocks on his feet with you in his arms before releasing and looking down at you. "You are real."

Before Joel can land a firm whack to Tommy's shoulder, Tommy's pulling you in for another hug, telling you how nice it is to finally meet you, because he's heard all about you, dropping in a few choice words about his asshole brother here and there as he chatters to you, and Joel, and even himself.

At some point, whether it's during the fourth hug or the eighteenth, you're not sure, Joel slips off to grab you a drink, leaving you with his bizarrely dressed brother.

"Ain't never seen him smile so much without Sarah around," he says, the moment Joel's out of earshot, giving you a nudge and another fond smile. "Y'know, I think he might like you."

"Mm, I think I might like him too."

Small talk with Tommy is easy - the man's a talker, if you ever met one. He's a charmer too, and if you met him in a bar you might think he'd be coming on to you with the way he so attentively talks to you, only directing his attention elsewhere for the briefest of moments.

"What's with the outfits?" you eventually ask, with a flick to his striped top hat. "Joel never said it was a dress up party."

"Oh it ain't, this is just a family tradition. Dad always used to dress up in dumb shit for the holidays, make us laugh, and it just sorta stuck. 'Course, added in some friendly competition over the years too, and then this," he says with a dramatic sweep down his body, "was born."

"Competition?"

"Mhm. Joel'll tell you, won't you brother?" Tommy says with a wink over your head before ducking sideways to raid the snack table.

"What am I s'posed to tell you?" he says, handing you your drink, letting his fingers linger near yours and stroke a trail of burning heat gently up your arm before falling back to his pocket.

"The competition."

"S'easy. Stars or stripes," Joel points to himself, decked out in stars and then to his brother where he stands loudly chatting to yet more guests in his candy stripes. "You gotta pick. Most votes, wins."

"I've got to pick?"

"'s the rules, darlin'."

"So you want me to pick between you, or some costumed guy I don't know - a practical stranger?" you say, with a glint in your eye, watching Joel's face drop in faux offence.

"You wouldn't."

"Don't underestimate me, Joel. I think you know exactly what I'm capable of."

Your eyes meet in a silent stalemate, the glint in your eye never leaving as Joel bites at his cheek to hold back a laugh. Tommy was right - you do like Joel, some days too much, and moments like right now, you think maybe it's reciprocated, and you like him just the right amount.

Poking him in the chest, finger pressed to the middle of one of the sea of stars decorating his body, you let yourself break first. "Stars, Joel. I pick stars."

With a roll of his eyes, and a kiss pressed lightning quick to the side of your head, Joel's hand winds back around your back.

"Thank fuck for that. Let's get you a votin' card so you can make that official."

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

As the evening draws on, you think you've talked to just about everyone in your street several times over, and then some. It also turns out that Joel and Tommy take their little competition very seriously, and always have, if your neighbors are to be believed.

By the time the votes have been counted and Joel in his star spangled outfit is declared the winner, Tommy has sunk to his knees, his hat toppled off in his despair as he hangs his head in shame.

You're still listening to them bicker as you sneak off to use the bathroom, their voices only disappearing when you've slid the patio door shut and taken your first official step into Joel's house.

"The headband swung it."

"The headband is Sarah's, and your massive skull is breakin' it..."

Even through the mess of the party, you can see that this place is distinctly Joel, with hints of a 10 year old girl dotted around the place. From the pictures on the wall to the cushions on the sofa - mostly a rich navy, but one soft pink nestled in with the blue - through to small ornamental carvings on a side table and the drawings stuck on the refrigerator.

You're looking at one - not a masterpiece by any means, but very decent attempt at a bluebonnet - when the pressure inside the house changes again with the slide of the door.

It's Joel, arms laden with bottles, and the headband flopping forward pathetically on his head. "You snuck off quick," he says, dumping the bottles onto the counter. "Get lost findin' the bathroom?"

"Distracted. Never had chance to sneak around your house looking at your shit before," you quip with a smile, trying to get comfortable with the very uncomfortable thing that brought you two together in the first place.

"Then shoes off. Lemme take you upstairs, give you a little tour, and you can use the bathroom up there. Probably in a better state than the one down here now anyway."

He holds your hand in his all the way up the stairs. That something rears its head again, igniting your palm where it meets his, your brain not registering a single word he says as he points to various doors before dragging you through one, into his bedroom.

His lips are on yours immediately - or yours are on his. You can't quite work out who started it, you just know that you're a tangle as your hands roam each other, biting and licking kisses into each others mouths. His hand finds your ass, and you're moaning as he presses you forward, into him, and the soft lump in his pants. You want to grind yourself against him, but the angle isn't right, and a nagging forgotten thing is worming through your brain when Joel pushes your bodies together once more.

Oh. Right. You remember now.

"Joel - mmph - Joel," you say with urgency through his kisses. He pulls back, searching your face with panic and a pinched brow. "I really gotta pee."

With a kiss to your forehead he lets you go, pushing you toward his ensuite. When you exit a few minutes later, he's exactly where you left him, stood with his hands in his pockets, looking sheepish as he possibly ever could.

"I'm glad you came," he says, looking at you and setting that something off roaring through your body again.

"Me too. I... I've had a nice time."

"Just wanted you to know I didn't invite you here just for, y'know," he says, with a gesture to his bed. "Didn't bring you in here for it either. Just, sorta missed you. Not used to not bein' alone with you. It's weird sharin' you."

You don't want to remind him you've barely left each others sides all night. You don't want to draw too much attention to the something, just in case you scare it away.

"Damn. Got nothing for me? Nothing at all?" you joke instead.

"Got nothin'. Nothin' planned anyway," he says with a look around the room, his eyes focussing briefly on a drawer before flicking back to you.

Really, you should be leaving space between you and Joel. Space for the something to flourish, space that is just enough to not magnetize your body to his, smashing yourselves together and turning the nothing into something. What you should do doesn't have the power to stop your feet from slowly pulling you toward him again though. And it doesn't stop you from putting both your hands on his chest when you finally reach him.

"No? Got no magic tricks up your sleeve? I was hoping for a wand or a rabbit or somethin', you do look like you ran away from the circus."

"I'll have you know this shirt is the finest polyester you can find at Party City."

"Mm, sounds sweaty."

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"So you're sweaty and gross, and you have nothing to wow me with? I'm starting to wonder why you invited me." Which is a lie. You know why, and so does he, and you're glad for it, even if it still frightens you to think about it too much. You suspect he knows an awful lot more about you than you've told him. He's perceptive like that.

"Maybe I'm retractin' your invite."

"You wouldn't."

"No?"

"What if I've got a little something for you instead, am I still invited now?"

Joel's eyes light up and soften all at once, turning so bright and sparkling you think he might cry. It's not exactly that you've never done anything for him in the ways he has for you. When he mentioned his favorite snack, you got some in the house for nights you spend watching a movie before devolving into fucking on the floor. You bought new lingerie, which only ever stayed on if it was too difficult to get out of, and once or twice he'd caught you wearing the heart shaped butt plug before leaping on you and pounding you into whatever surface was nearest, thumb pressing down on the base and making you see stars.

Still, for all you had done, you never swapped positions in the little game you'd been playing with each other for over seven months. Each time, he was the one who came to you with some silly thing or trick or toy to tease you with, and each time you loved it. You hoped he would love this too.

"You do?"

"Mhm," you say as you put some distance between the two of you again. Space to breath, space to move, space to let the something calm back down into the pit of your stomach and curl in on itself like a cat settling down to sleep.

Your let your fingers glide up your body, gently pulling your skirt for a moment before they coast up your belly and reach your shirt, flirting with the hem before curling around it and tugging, letting your tits jiggle behind the fabric.

With a final soft tug, you peel the fabric up your body, the swell of your breasts spilling out the bottom of your top.

"Holy shit, baby," he says, a whisper of a moan on his lips. His eyes have been glued to you, wide and curious, ever since you suggested you may have something for him. And now, they're darting from your chest to your face then back down, taking in the sight of your covered nipples.

You had made some choices earlier today, in your nervous state. Going braless was only one of them. The pasties too, were another. And then, there was the shape. You has flowers, hearts, circles, straight tape and, finally, stars. It was a no brainer when you'd rifled through the packet for two that matched that white stars were the perfect choice for today. It'd only really occured to you when Joel had worn his own stars, that you were perhaps better matched today than you thought, that maybe you could have your own little game with him for once.

"Told you I was all in on the stars."

"Damn right you are," he says as he approaches, his hands finding their place on your waist, itching to move upward. "They don't hurt?"

"They're just pasties, Joel. They're soft. Feel."

And fuck, does he feel. His hands cup you, gently squeezing the softest part of your breast before letting his thumbs dance across where the pucker of your nipple should be. The sensation is muted, infuriatingly muffled by the feel of the pasties covering you.

"S'good?"

"Imagine I stroked your dick over your pants. It's good but it's not the same."

"Damn," he curses, thumbs still gently rubbing over your nipples, watching them slowly come to life and prickling beneath the coverings. "They come off easy?"

"Like a bandaid."

"Shit."

And you just know what he's thinking, because you're thinking it too. There's no real way you can take them off right now and let Joel have his way with your nipples like you're both desperate for, even if time and the swathe of people downstairs wasn't an issue. You have nothing else to cover up with and the soft breeze combined with the cold drinks and the age of some of the guests here means it's probably not a good idea to go without them.

That doesn't stop Joel from kissing you again though, more restrained than he has any right to be with your tits in his hands. You know from his frustrated groan when you bite at his bottom lip that he's two seconds away from telling everyone the parties over, only to come back up here and continue with a party for just two.

To your surprises, he pulls your top back down. Not before kissing one breast, then the other, then back to the first. You know he wants to sink his face into them, but he doesn't let himself, and he rises from his crouch with a groan and pulls you out of the room.

"Don't show Tommy," Joel whispers to you as you make your way back down the stairs. "He'll say the contest was rigged."

"Damn, I was so hoping to show your brother my nipples."

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

Joel's eyes keep flicking to your chest for the rest of the night. More than once he drags you away inside, either upstairs or into the garage, just to ask you to show him one more time. If you weren't covered, your nipples would have been rubbed and pinched raw by his eager fingers by now, just as your lips were swollen by his eager mouth.

By the time it's all over, you're positively exhausted, propping yourself up on the arm of a chair and talking to Tommy as Joel waves off the last of the guests and closes the back gate.

You had barely left his side all night, and if anyone had anything to say about it, you hadn't heard it. Neither had Joel. And Tommy, a clever man when he wanted to be, hadn't made a single joke about it either. All in all, it was as much of a successful day than you could hope for, initial nerves aside.

Tommy, continuing to be a clever man, doesn't put up much of a fight when you offer to be the one to stay behind and help clear up. Of course, he's already gone around and collected most of the trash, and put the leftover food inside, but he relents at your insistence he head home - you do only live down the street after all.

Neither you or Joel get much further with the cleaning. Once trash bags are dumped in the garage and you've both washed up, his hands are back under your top, damp fingers cupping your breasts and pulling you back into him.

"Stay?" he asks, as if there was any other ending to this night, as if Tommy hadn't left precisely for this reason.

You barely agree by the time his mouth is latched onto your neck, drawing unrestrained moans out of you right there in the kitchen now that you're finally alone.

His hands, of course, find their way back up to your top, stroking over the edge of the pasties once more.

"You really like 'em, huh?" you ask as his thumb brushes the edge of one, starting to curl and pull the point of one of the stars.

"Like that we match. Feel like you picked 'em for me," he mumbles into your neck, releasing one breast and tucking his hand into the waistband of your skirt. "Like that I've had somethin' to think about, somethin' to play with, even with all these people here."

Fuck, if you haven't liked that too. Letting him play had been one of the highlights of your night so far. Being manhandled into the garage, giggling and pushing Joel as he clasped his hands together in a plea to please see your tits. The souvenir love bite you'd let him suck into your left breast after dragging you back upstairs for a second time. You'd spent half the night flipping between Joels hands and mouth on your tits, to being dragged back out to socialize. Your pussy had given up trying to regulate itself after the third session of Joel's teasing, and you'd spent the rest of the evening wet and waiting.

This is a fact he finds out now, as he slides his hand down over your mound to cup you over your panties. You both let out the same curse as he presses and wiggles his fingers back and forth over you, rubbing your clit over your underwear. You had hoped to peel the pasties off before you fucked him, giving him full access to your nipples for the first time tonight, but you don't think you're going to make it that far, not now his hand is pulling your panties aside, feeling for the slick wetness between your lips and dragging it up, up, up to swirl around your clit.

Not a second later you're scaling the stairs for what you know will be the final time that day, this time you dragging Joel as you both kick of your shoes and stumble up the steps. You already ache from all the standing, and if you have it your way, your legs are going to be shaking and trembling too much for the rest of the night to possibly be of use to you.

With his door pushed open, left wide now the house is empty, you pull yourself back into him, only for him to slip his still wet finger between your lips, letting you taste yourself before he captures your mouth, licking your taste from your own tongue.

Then, your hands find his chest, that ridiculous shirt, and pull at it, tugging the fabric taught to his body, eager to get it off and tumble into his sheets with him.

You were right about how sweaty he'd be under the shirt when you finally get your fingers on the buttons, working your way down until you can pull it off. He's shining underneath it, the dark hair of his body slicked down as you drag your hands up over his chest, to his shoulders and then down to his belt.

He suddenly stops you, pulling your hands away, pressing kiss after kiss to your mouth as he fumbles with the buckle. In a huff, after a few failed, distracted, attempts, he pushes you away and pulls off his belt before unzipping his pants.

Joel has barely tugged them down his legs when you're staring wide eyed, howling with laughter, staring directly at his cock. Only, this time, it stares back.

At least, the bald eagle on the front of his boxers does.

"What are those?"

"Nothin'," Joel says, covering himself and trying to tug his boxers over his erection with one hand still trying to pull off his pants. Grabbing his hands, you stop him, pleading as you tug them away from his crotch.

"Show me."

"Look, s'nothin. Just another stupid thing Tommy got me and I thought it'd be funny but..."

"Sure looks like you got somethin' there for me. All this time you were sayin nothin'. Don't tell me you're getting shy on me now. C'mon. Please."

You pout, trying desperately to get him to give in when you have an idea and you're tugging your top off over your head and throwing it to the side, brandishing your star covered nipples to him once more.

"Pretty please," you say with a small shimmy, and Joel's hand immediately falls away, coming up instead to cover his eyes with a sigh.

It's a sight to behold. Really, it is. The eagle is staring back at you once again, still bolstered by Joel's solid length and the heft of his balls behind it. What you hadn't noticed before is it's sitting on a canvas of United States flag, stars and stripes covering his thighs, his hips, his ass.

"Oh wow. Joel those are -" you cough out a laugh "- those are amazing."

He's rolling his eyes. You can hear it in his voice and see it in his posture. "Yeah, real funny, I know."

"No, I like them. Very festive. And y'know what," you say, cupping his cock right over the eagle print of his boxers as you clear your throat. "I pledge allegiance -"

"No, don't you d-"

"- to these balls -"

"Stop."

"- and the cock they sit under -"

"Oh my god," he says, fighting through a laugh, your fingers squeezing and massaging as you pledge yourself, whole heartedly, to the appendage in your hand.

" - one - uh, cock and balls? Is there even a collective word for cock and balls? - under Joel -"

"It's just gettin' worse."

"- definitely indivisible, no divisible balls here - "

"You're killin' me."

"- say it with me now - with liberty and justice for balls."

You try to keep a straight face as you finish. Really you do. But as Joel's whole body shakes and ripples, his balls jiggling in your hand as laughter wracks through him, you can't help but fall into him, letting yourself be propped up by him as you crumple in on yourself in delight.

"You callin' my balls Liberty and Justice now?" Joel finally says through a laugh.

You slide a finger up the leg of his boxers, pulling gently on them as you stare down at the flag adorning his ass and balls.

"Yep. You're Star Spangled Joel with your side kicks, Liberty and Justice."

You give his balls a little squeeze again as you name them.

"Now that you pledged your allegiance, you gonna keep yappin' or you gonna prove it?"

But it's too late, because you're already sinking to your knees, right there in his bedroom, a place you both know you're going to wake up in the morning, wrapped in each other as the sunlight peeks through the curtains.

"Just try to stop me."

next part

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[thesilmarillionblog]

IMPOSTOR

Summary: Black Noir discovers he has been replaced after he wakes up from his two-month stay at Vought Hospital. He doesn't take it well.

Characters: Black Noir, Fake Black Noir from The Boys (TV) Season 4

Warnings: Violence, language, soft Black Noir, brutal Black Noir

Word Count: 1551

A/N: English is not my first language.

͟͟͞͞➳ This fiction is a gentle fuck you to E. Kripke. New Noir is not my Noir. I love Nathan Mitchell a lot, though. Babygirl. ✨

A deep sense of sorrow and suffering overcame Noir as he used his gloved hands to rub the long scars on his abdomen. Homelander, whom he considered a friend, had nearly killed him just because Noir hadn't informed him about his biological father, Soldier Boy. Since they had been keeping this a secret for decades, Vought wouldn't be grateful if Noir told a thing. Though he didn't intend to break Homelander's heart, he had struck him so hard in the stomach that he could see his organs everywhere. He felt, nonetheless, that he handled confronting his past quite nicely.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard that the CIA had captured Soldier Boy once more. Decades later, when the time came, he was not sure if he would see him face-to-face, but he knew he would be prepared. 

He feared he would die there, too, when Homelander buried his full fist in his abdomen, but unexpectedly, Homelander gave him a lecture about friendship and honesty before giving him a significant dose of Comp-V in order to save him. Noir knew that, beyond his strange idea of his friendship, Homelander was really furious and disappointed with him. That is why he forgave Homelander as just like he forgave Noir. 

Noir spent months in the Vought Hospital before preparing to rejoin the team. 

Ashley whispered, “Sir,” as Noir continued to stare at her expressionlessly. Ashley had a nervous smile on her face. “I think I must inform you that you are replaced by someone else.”

Noir straightened abruptly, moving in closer to Ashley to get her to clarify exactly what she was telling him. He let out an irate sigh and waited for her to go on. 

“The public was asking about you, and to not make things anymore complicated, Vought decided to take a new Noir into the team, looking just like you.”

Noir thought, Fuck, fuck, fuck. That was unfair. Fuck Vought and everyone. 

That was not only impossible but also a massive betrayal of his complete allegiance to Vought. He had served the company for years, and that was how they repaid him.

Noir began to inhale in rage as Ashley left the room swiftly without saying anything further. He wouldn't allow a fake to lead those who supported him to believe he was the real Noir. The true Noir was Black Noir. End of discussion. 

Picking up his phone, he sat down in the middle of the hallway to see the latest news and check the most recent updates about himself. 

He snarled with hatred as he saw his own supporters applauding the imposter while he was acting foolishly in front of the camera. They had no idea that he had suffered greatly in the previous few months and had experienced a near-death experience. How could they not see that it was obviously not him? 

Noir lost all patience with the nonsense and smashed the phone between his hands violently. He then placed his hands on his head and considered the next step of action. He would not give in so easily. Noir would absolutely teach the false one how to act appropriately in public, as it was evident that he didn't know how. 

He looked up and saw that one of his duck friends was clutching his hand. 

“You were incredibly brave and strong to withstand such an attack from Homelander. We are all proud of you,” he replied, giving him a shoulder pat. 

Noir crossed his arms and looked away. No matter what, he wasn't satisfied with the circumstances surrounding him. 

“Come on,” his friend said, giving him another leg squeeze. “The new one is not as good as you, and you can prove everyone that.”

How? Noir pondered, unsure of what to do. Things would get much messier if he disobeyed Vought, and he really didn't need that at this point. 

“You embody the true spirit of Black Noir, while he lacks your strength and bravery. Given your current state of recovery, Vought wouldn't have any problem if you told him to move aside.”

No, Noir thought. Today, he was going to expose that fraud and prove to everyone who was superior. He would never permit somebody to behave in such a way. He was adored by everyone for his true self. He refused to give up all the adoration he had and rightfully earned. 

His friend sat by his side and said, “If you kill him, don't you think Vought will get angry at you?”

They won't give a damn. They never do anything if the company is involved. Noir did not know a life outside of Vought and Homelander, so even though he was terrified of them, he reasoned that one act of disobedience wouldn't harm anyone and that no one would give a shit.

Noir made up his mind then and there, dropping his damaged phone to the ground as his friend passed by.

He said, “I'm so proud of you,” and then he vanished once more. Noir felt joy and satisfaction fill his heart. He was confident that he could handle this circumstance as needed. Just like he always did.

Noir waited for fraud to appear in his home for hours while tracking and waiting in a shadowy place after sharpening his knives and weapons. Admittedly, he was a little dramatic, but he knew it would be effective.

When the new one eventually came inside the house after many hours, the fake one noticed something wasn't quite right. An odd fragrance permeated the entire place. Then Noir emerged from his hiding place, his blades sharpened in his palm, and wandered slowly in front of the window, the moonlight brushing over his helmet. He was satisfied that his entrance proceeded exactly as he had planned and knew he looked fine and cool enough.

“You are a strange one, dude; fuck off,” the man laughed. “If you just gave me a call, I'd have invited you, you know.”

‘What a bitch’ Noir thought to himself, growing more irate as the new guy spoke without pausing. 

“Heard Homelander beat the shit out of you.” He inquired, “How did you even survive?” Noir stopped pacing and glanced at him. His wounds hurt when Homelander was brought up; he remembered all those painful memories. 

Noir tucked his knives away in the back of his suit and showed him the papers he had prepared, telling him the one on which he had written ‘now I kiill you.’ 

“Man, fuck you. You're not as scary as you believe, and you're forgetting that, despite the fact that I am a supe, Vought purposefully picked me.”

Noir laughed beneath his mask, but his laughter was more of a fury than an expression of joy. Next, he handed the new one another piece of paper and said, “Nobody nevv me. I am unigue.”

He firmly challenged him, saying, “I'm not the new you,” which wasn't a wise move given Noir's desire for a real fight. After all, he spent his months doing nothing but lying in bed; he was hungry for a proper fight. “I'm superior to you in some way. People adore me.”

It's me they love, not you. 

“Guess we have to solve this fucking mess fist to fist, man to man, huh?”

Noir, unable to contain his resentment and hatred any longer, grabbed his knives and swiftly assaulted the impostor. Noir laughed this time because he could feel the fake one's anxiety and tense breathing. He was certain that he would be too strong for this feeble con artist.

He made an attempt to fight Noir with his pathetic fists, but Noir knew that man was much weaker than expected, so he dropped his knives and took the man's head, ripping it from his body in one motion. He was holding his bloody head in his palm, his entire suit smeared with blood. He placed one hand on his hips, and, for a time, he was unable to stop grinning beneath his mask. Vought found him specifically for the weakest man alive. Or not anymore. 

Noir put his head down on his desk and peered expectantly into Stan Edgar's eyes, displaying all of his brutality and pleading with him to return to Seven immediately. Enough time had passed. 

“What the hell, Noir?” With a disgusted mutter, Edgar averted his gaze from the bloodied head. “Get this thing out of my sight, oh god.”

Noir remained motionless, waiting for him to make a statement. 

“You're back to Seven, okay. Are you happy now?” He said it hastily. “I was already going to kick him out, you sick maniac fuck.”

Noir nodded to Edgar, took the head back off his table, breathed a peaceful sigh, and exited the room, placing the lifeless head in the closest container. 

That is where you end your head up if you fuck with him. 

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

A/N: Here's my other Black Noir fics: Stranger and In the Middle of the Night. Stay tuned for more and let me know what you think!˖ ࣪ .♡˚.

[planesky]

Every Outcome I Got Out Of The Website

(thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com)

-I keep updating this-

1. The Gun / Gun - “Oh Yes Oh Yes Oh Yes They Both”.

2. Dorito - Bill Cipher Jump Scare.

3. Matpat / Theory - Matpat Video.

4. Blanchin - https://youtu.be/iW29Peruj-0?si=tJCbMXskZ2PE_2PK

5. Alex / Alex Hirsch - Google Search “Flannel”.

6. Blind Eye - Eye Exam Code.

7. Giffany - “Input Deleted. AI Antiviral. Activated.”

8. T J Eckleburg - “Never Mention That Name Again”

9. Adastraperaspera / Ad Astra Per Aspera - Journal Pages About Bill’s Corpse.

10. Dipper - Note From Bill To Dipper.

11. Mabel - “Lab Now Fully Mabelized” after a few clicks.

12. Stanford - Lab Report.

13. Stanley / Stanley Pines - Ebuy Stanley Related Items, After Six Clicks “The Wheel Of Shame”, A Poem After You Click On “How He Beat Me” Many Times.

14. Wendy - Note To Wendy From Unknown.

15. Soos - Letter From Soos.

16. CIA / FBI - “Your Webcam Is On. We Are Watching”.

17. Nothing - “Something”.

18. Something - “Nothing”.

19. McGucket - https://youtu.be/mOYZaiDZ7BM?si=SpB78zp3ZO5BZyRv

20. Gravity Falls - “Never Heard Of It”.

21. Skibidi / Gyatt - “Life Privilege Provoked. Now Releasing Poision Gas.”

22. Fuck / Shit / Bitch - Note “Not S&P Approved”.

23. Triangle - “)”.

24. Pacifica - A Letter From Pacifica.

25. Gideon - Google Search “Sweet Resistant Bolo Ties”.

26. Mystery- “?”.

27. Journal 1 - “The Journal For Fun”.

28. Journal 2 - “The Journal For You”.

29. Journal 3 - “The Journal For Me”.

30. Axolotl - “You Ask Alotl Questions”.

31. Bill - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eye_of_Providence

32. Bill Cipher - https://youtu.be/cZdiFNhu31c?si=-_-vBtwmRtunKcAr

33. Cipher - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Triangle

34. Death - “Life’s Goth Cousin”.

35. Life - “Life: 72% Complete. Now Loading: Death”.

36. Book Of Bill: “Hide It Under Shirt During Pledge Of Allegiance”.

37. Scary - Book Named “Spookemups” By B. Cipher.

38. Ducktective - “Ducktective Stars In “Love, Quacktually” Coming To: “Oi, It’s The Cockney Chunnel Innit?” This Fall”.

39. Card - Bill Cipher Business Card.

40. Geometry / Plato / Greek / Greece - Page About Plato And The Pythagorean Theorem In Ancient Greece.

41. Mystery Shack - Google Search “Confusion Hill”.

42. Babba / Disco Girl - Dipper Singing.

43. Lies - Lies Board Game And Explanation about Truth.

44. Answer - “Question”.

45. Question - “Answer”.

46. Season 1 / Season -1 - “Season -1: Antigravity Falls”.

47. Season 2 / Season -2 - “Season 1”.

48. Season 3 / Season -3 - “Season 2”.

49. Sorry - A Picture Of Fiddleford And Stanford.

50. Lalala / Daddy / Baby - Bill Ultrasound.

51. Disney - “Rat.gif Censored For Your Protection”.

52. Rat - “Thurburts’ Number?”

53. Reality - “Is An Illusion”.

54. Universe - “Hologram”.

55. R34lity - Polaroids Of The Henchmaniacs.

56. Love / Romance - Book Named “The Love Triangle” By Tabitha Lustheart.

57. Waddles - https://pigplacementnetwork.org/

58. God - A video of an Axolotl swimming next to a bill statue.

59. Meow - https://vt.tiktok.com/ZS2dBpWYf/

60. Naitsuaf - A Page About Selling Your Soul.

61. Weird - A Video Of A Man Stuck Inside The Computer.

62. Fixinit - https://youtu.be/zgKSrJ_hmNY?feature=shared

63. Mason - Note From Dipper About Anagrams.

64. Who Are You - “I Could Ask You The Same Question”.

65. Monster - Google Search “THERES A MONSTER AT THE END OF THIS BOOK”.

66. Platinum Paz - A Story About Pacifica.

67. Robbie - Messages Between Robbie And Thompson.

68. Love Ya Bro - A Doodle Of The Grunkle With A Code On The Back.

69. Vallis Cineris - A Video Of Little Bill.

70. Pines - “A Good Family Tree”.

71. Blendin - “Time Agent Lost And Presumed Incompetent”.

72. Imstillonyourmind - A Video Of The Ocean With Unknown Voice.

73. Tantrum - A Transcript Of A Conversation Between Bill And The Time Baby.

74. Hectoring - A Song About Bill.

75. Irregular - Bill Mugshot With A Code.

76. Paperjam - A Picture Of Messed Up Print Dipper.

77. Shave Your Grandma - Textbook Page About The Human Life Cycle.

78. Hotxolotl - Bill Cyper Wanted Report.

79. One Eyed King - Bill Hypnosis.

80. Titans Blood - “Hoot Hoot. Password Please!”.

81. Kings Of New Jersey - Downloaded A Zip File On My Computer, The Zip Contains The Font Of The Code Behind The Love You Bro Doodle.

82. Just Fit In - A Board Game Commercial With Sad Background Music.

83. Music - It Doesn’t Response To The Word, Nothing Changes Including The Background Music And It Doesn’t Show An X.

84. Cryptogram Codex - Fonts Of Several Codes.

85. Divorce / Breakup - Gives you “O’ Sadleys” Logo.

86. XGQRTHX - “Where Do Tri Angles Come From?”

87. When Will I Die - Says A Random Number Each Time.

88. Abuelita - https://youtu.be/1sdZazjDq-4?si=YAwvWQdWJVHE3_QS

89. Portal - “Portal.exe has been deleted. I bet you could build one”.

90. Cray Cray - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health

91. Multilevel Mark - “Who Defeated Silas Birchtree—?”

92. I see - “Is Seeing Believing?”

93. Pinata - Someone Hitting A Bill Cipher Pinãta.

94. Euclid / Scalene - “Life Form Not Found”.

95. Horror / Urban Legend - The “Always Garden”.

96. Forget The Past - Color Techincal Error.

97. Dippy Fresh - Reddit - https://i.redd.it/4p4142atrf381.jpg

98. Morality - Fun Game.

99. Oroborous - Journal Pages About Axolotl And Bill.

100. Xyler - https://youtu.be/lkQE5wuBFeY?feature=shared

101. Well Well Well Being - “Paitent File: Bill Cipher. Greatest Love: Himself. Greatest Fear: Himself.”

102. Theraprism - Brochure With A Code.

103. Deer Teeth - “For You, Kid!”

104. Weirdmageddon - The Gravity Falls Gossiper News Paper Artical.

105. Glass Shard Beach - Wildwoods-Sportland-Pier-2-1024x667.jpg 1,024×667 pixels

106. Curse Wittebane - Bill Seance Board.

107. Tad Strange - Bread Cutting Montage.

108. Burned Inside - A Video Of A Oregon Park Department Tag On The Ground.

109. Boo Berry - The Meaning Of Life.

110. Fuck You Alex - Google Search “Get Help Therapy”.

111. Harolds Ramblings - “How Is Clown Repellent Made?”

112. Butternubbins - “You’ve Earned A Treat! Enter “Dispense My Treat” To Download”.

113. Dispense My Treat - Zip file named “BILLS FILES DO NOT OPEN!!” And contains photos from the book.

114. Goodnight Sally - A Yellow TShirt.

*When you click the skull’s golden teeth you get a “Get Out Of Death Card”.

**When you click the book you get a letter from Stanford to Dipper.

***When you click the McGUCKET LABS Engraving on top of the computer you get a Letter from McGucket.

****When you click “The Book Of Bill” at the end of the page you get a link to the B&N Exclusive edition of the book The Book of Bill (B&N Exclusive Edition) by Alex Hirsch, Hardcover | Barnes & Noble® .

*****When you click the button next to the red switch the computer loses reception.

******When you click the eye in the bottle you get a picture of “Failed Portal Attempt #47: Altantis” with explanation.

Decoding:

Prism Code - SORRY

Stanford’s Letter In The Book - Ad Astra Pav Aspera

How He Defeted Me - (I cAN STilL sEe) Through The Eyes Of Everyone I’ve Ever.

Candle Code - ?

Wall Code - ?

Morse Code Hypnosis - Naitsuaf

Theraprism Code - (In Case Of) The Old One (Do Not Use Elevators).

[mentallyisekaid]

「 ✦ Fatui Harbingers x La Signora's Sister! Reader, PART 3 ✦ 」

---

Part 1 Part 2 Part 2.5 [Part 3] Part 3.5

It's highly recommended to read the parts in order, otherwise few things will make sense!

A/N ~ hey there, if you're following this story but haven't yet seen my pinned post, you should go and read it since it's where I'll update general stuff regarding the fic~

---

Featured in this chapter, we have... a certain dubious duo?

Warnings: half-intentional ooc moments

Word count: 2.3k

---

A week or so had passed.

It's not that you were complaining about this endless 'trial period', per se. Still, just going through piles of boring documents, day after day - any immortal being would've lost their mind sooner or later.

Half a millennium dulled all shine there was to a mundane life, so seeking out a bit of excitement was crucial for maintaining sanity. But even making bets with Childe wasn't thrilling enough (though it did come close!)

Without a drastic change of pace soon, you might have just gone feral.

And your colleagues were quite aware of it~ In time, you better believe they would've even stolen the Moon from the sky for you if you only asked for it, but nevertheless, first, you needed to prove that they could trust you.

The Fatui took immense pride in loyalty - yet yours was very fickle, and they knew it. But rather than allegiance, what your Harbingers seeked for was sign of your devotion toward them, something that exceeded the boundaries of professionalism and demonstrated... a much deeper level of trust.

"Was revealing the secret of this stupid Vision a mistake, after all?" a thought that had plagued your mind.

Well, who could say... but apparently, it had been worth it!

No one could really fathom Pierro's decisions, but it seems that after hearing you'd confided a part of your past to some of them, the Director had thought you'd proved yourself enough. And maybe it was because he knew you just a bit too well, having been there all those centuries ago.

But did this mean that all of them now knew of your little conversation with Scaramouche, Columbina and Childe?

Well, such a thought hardly occupied you.

Because more importantly, you were finally about to get (*insert an ominous fanfare*)...

Your very first field mission!

Good riddance, eternal paperwork~

---

A sign of their trust, or... just another test?

You didn't care either way.

"Lady Harbinger," a Cicin Mage had bowed her head after entering your office. "The Jester has assigned you to an official errand with Lords Ninth and Second. You are to rendezvous with them at the gates. Effective immediately."

And girl, you couldn't have bolted out of that room faster! It made the poor Cicins squeak in alarm. The mage only sighed while shaking her head, not sure that you'd come out of this one with your sanity still intact.

So, your bored prayers had been heard. But by the gods, or a devil? A field assignment with this specific pair of Harbingers had the potential to turn out chaotic beyond belief...

and you were all for it!

It was daybreak in Snezhnaya.

The early morning air was even more frigid than usual, making your grip the coat on around you tighter as you waltzed through the snowy yard. From a distance, you could make out two shadowy figures next to the gates of Zapolyarny Palace, their menacing auras unmistakable.

When Regrator and Il Dottore were working together, anyone even remotely involved had better be on their guard...

Lest they wanted to end up in horrible debt.

Or as a part of human experiments.

But the shady banker and the heretic researcher had failed to intimidate you, and they found such fearlessness quite... captivating.

As you got closer, Pantalone offered you a warm smile.

"Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?"

"Hello... and no, *yawn*... it's impossible to get decent rest with these working hours. But," a smile made its way onto your lips, "I'm pleased to finally get to work outside of the palace~"

And with the two of you, it might just be twice as fun, a totally weird thought that you didn't voice out, and instead sighed:

"Though, at the cost of skipping my yummy breakfast pancakes..."

You took a bite from the frostbitten, red fruit in your hand. This earned a chuckle from Dottore.

"No, no, you won't get sufficient vitamins from that. How about trying the special pills I gave you? You'd help me with my research while you're at it, too..."

"I'm afraid your experimental supplements might end up turning me into a slime."

An apple a day hardly kept this doctor away. But much to everyone's surprise, you seemed to know how to handle his eccentric personality and... the segments. Even Scaramouche was impressed by this.

"Don't you look rather young today, Zandik?" you questioned with a hint of playfulness; a habit you'd picked up from Damselette.

The Doctor only replied with a smile, gently sweeping away a few snowflakes from your hair as if admiring a most precious specimen (no objectifying here, Dottore's just being Dottore~)

This one seemed to be of the more reasonable segments, if such a concept even existed - though regardless of the form, you were really quite fond of their antics.

Pantalone, too, was a difficult person in his own way, knowing how to both frustrate you to no ends, and yet make you feel so endeared.

As usual, the banker seemed just a bit too amused by everything.

That, and he found you adorable.

"Hehe, I must admit that dealing with the two of you off-duty is always rather delightful~ but we ought to leave duly," he stepped forward and offered you his hand. "After all, we wouldn't want to be late on Y/N's first mission, now would we?"

Dottore mimicked his gesture. "Indeed, off we go."

These two....

But on that note?

"Dare I ask," you raised an eyebrow, "what the mission might be?"

They only smiled at you - Pantalone while adjusting his glasses, Dottore with his expression half hidden by that asymmetrical mask, and both in a suspiciously mellow way.

You frowned. Pierro had definitely been up to something when sending you on a nameless errand, and with this dubious duo, no less...

and you were quite enjoying the suspense!

---

Three Harbingers waltzing through the snowy streets, a dozen of Fatui agents following close behind, was a slightly unnerving sight; one could only wonder who had wronged the infamous organization this time, and pray the lot wouldn't fall on them.

Someone sure was out of their luck today.

You tried to ignore the not so subtle gazes the citizens threw you as you walked past them, though understanding their curiosity.

It was the first public appearance of the rumoured 12th Harbinger, after all.

Feeling a bit self-conscious, you tried to distract yourself by focusing on the scenery. It had been over a month since you'd last set foot outside the palace grounds, but Snezhnaya's beauty never faltered...

At some point, you got a bit lost in thought.

Dottore's lazy comment, however, caught your attention.

"Now then, I've heard some interesting things about that Pyro Vision of yours…"

Pantalone smiled, as if oblivious.

You sighed. "Well, that's unsurprising. From Scaramouche, I reckon."

"Tsk, you have so little imagination." The Doctor clicked his tongue. "Then, allow me to ask you... How long do you think the oldest one of my segments has been around? Or, how efficiently all these clones are capable of gathering information? Or, how much more I can figure out just by knowing a few things about you?"

"Such roundabout hints, Doctor."

"What he's trying to say, of course," Pantalone chimed in, "is that the Second of the Harbingers has many... unconventional ways of finding out what his curiosity desires."

You sighed, "and he shares everything with you, because why not?"

Not very surprising.

It was granted that your secrets were never going to remain hidden from them forever, and frankly speaking, you didn't care. Pierro was already aware of every scandalous detail there was to your past anyway, so was there a reason for you to be so reticent about it?

Well, certainly not anymore...

but it was still a tad too early to completely let your guard down either!

A weird silence filled the air for a while, probably making the lower ranks behind you a bit uncomfortable.

But since Pantalone and Dottore didn't pursue on the topic, you thought, 'why should I either?'

Yet they obviously expected you to.

"Then," you sighed, giving in, "I assume you want to ask me about something? My Visions, no doubt."

Pantalone patted your head, "Only if our little Harbinger wouldn't deem it prying."

"I do, but go ahead."

Knowing them to be exceedingly shrewd characters, manipulating others so effortlessly, you realized these two could have easily lead you into a trap here. But somehow, this subtle controlling was always done gently enough not to hurt you.

And they never would, surely.

One way or another, though, they always found out what they wanted...

Pantalone gestured the Fatui agents to put some distance between them and the three of you - was it courtesy, or maybe... protectiveness? Either way, it would prevent bothersome rumours about your past from spreading any further, so you gave him an appreciative smile.

Dottore was walking leisurely with his hands behind his back, giving you sidelong glances.

"Then, tell me, Y/N - why do you think Celestia grants Visions so heedlessly? Why is it that even some of the strongest individuals never receive one?"

The vapor from your breath formed clouds in the cold air as you took a few deep breaths before answering.

"Well, I can only speak for myself. I've always been ambitionless and ran away from all my problems rather than facing them. So, thinking back, I never should've received a Vision in the first place, fake or not."

You sighed, "Rosalyne, on the other hand... I think she had every right to get a blessing from those crafty deities. She was assertive, gifted - a bit of a diva at times - but somewhere beneath lied a gentle soul."

And here you were again, talking about her; she haunted you when she was alive, and haunted you as dead.

Pantalone raised an eyebrow. "My, I've never heard anyone say such things about the Fair Lady?"

Dottore, too, seemed reluctant to accept these praises you directed at your sister, as he'd only seen her as a shallow, crude woman.

"Don't get me wrong, though," you commented, "she was no saint..."

"But?"

You shrugged, "...nor was I."

The two Harbingers had quietly moved closer to you, now walking on your both sides. You only noticed this when their arms slightly brushed against yours.

"After my father created this... thing and gave it to me, and how I greedily accepted it, I always wondered if we had angered the gods so thoroughly that they didn't grant my sister a Vision out of pure spite."

Pantalone brushed a loose strand of hair from your face.

"Perhaps... you shouldn't be so merciless toward yourself."

"I'm not. Rosalyne and I were very similar, after all."

Dottore raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"We both wanted what we felt we deserved - power, attention... acceptance. I don't know whose yearning was greater, but neither one of us settled for any less. So, I tied a manmade Vision on my hips, and Rosalyne left to study the art of liquid fire in the Akademiya; the divine refused to acknowledge us, so we searched for our due elsewhere."

Pantalone stroked his chin, seemingly amused. "Well, what a pair of blasphemous sisters?"

"However," the Doctor chuckled, "what you did surely made those self-important gods grit their teeth in frustration. I find such heresy quite commendable. Bravo, truly~"

"And then you went and became a Fatui Harbinger," Pantalone sighed. "Poor Celestia, they couldn't shackle you..."

You didn't know whether to laugh or cry at their comments.

"Though, I am curious about one thing," Pantalone continued. "You said Celestia 'rejected' you, yet here you are, with a bona fide Cryo Vision? Isn't that a sign that the gods did, in fact, accept you?"

It was something you'd been wondering ever since that day as well...

And the lamentable conclusion was this:

"Perhaps Celestia just took pity on me. Or, perhaps the Vision was intended as a warning."

"A warning?" Pantalone smiled eerily. "For what reason exactly, my dear?"

To keep your mouth shut?

To not cross such lines ever again?

And yet... "That's a story for a later time," you told them as well, smiling.

Dottore and Pantalone were adept at concealing how they really thought and felt about things, so you couldn't quite decipher their reactions to your cryptic words.

Still, a fleeting sentiment had flashed across their faces - resentment, perhaps. Not toward you, though.

Suddenly, they both stopped walking.

You took a few steps more before noticing and stopping as well, glancing at them over your shoulder.

"Well, would you look that? Time flies so pleasantly with Y/N around." Pantalone checked his pocket watch. "It seems we're here a bit early."

...and where was 'here', exactly?

It looked like a small, secluded village, somewhat. There were no proper houses, just some dilapidated cottages and cabins, and only a few of them. The people outside, wearing clothes way too ragged and light for this type of weather, had quickly fled inside once seeing the Fatui had arrived.

You knew there was a lot of poverty in rural Snezhnaya, but this was... well, it reminded you of the times when you'd struggled to get by as well - memories you'd rather never have had brought up again.

Dottore mumbled something about "these ones" being "too malnourished for test subjects" as he walked past you.

Pantalone had also went ahead with his subordinates, discussing some questionable economics that apparently concerned this place.

But you lingered behind them for a moment, lost in thought.

The people here have surely lost enough, so why choose to bring themselves even more misfortune by getting involved with the Fatui? I understand the way humans think less and less with every decade that passes...

Just now noticing that you hadn't followed them, the two Harbingers strode back to your side.

You quickly hid any remnant of hesitance from your face, giving them a smile.

"Time to prove myself, no?"

Dottore chuckled, "You don't seem too anxious about your first field mission, my little Harbinger, even though you don't know what's waiting up ahead..."

"Well," you sighed. "For the Tsaritsa, and all that... you know? And I reckon I've faced worse anyway."

"I'll ask you to elaborate on that some other time~ On a similar note," Pantalone mused, playing with your hair softly, "we all saw something in you that day, at the funeral, and it seems... you really won't disappoint us?"

You shrugged, "We should hope so."

And with their arms loosely linked around yours, the two Harbingers started leading you toward a particular cabin...

(to be continued)

[bumblee-stumblee]

By Brooke Colombo Staff Writer Oct 21, 2024 Updated 2 hrs ago Comments

Lewisville Police Department

A Lewisville man charged with murder in the shooting of his co-worker on Thursday told detectives he was “obsessed” with her and “practiced” the shooting beforehand, according to his arrest affidavit.

Travis Merrill, 51, was arrested on Thursday in the fatal shooting of Tamhara Collazo, whom he worked with at Allegiance Trucking in Lewisville.

At about 11:34 a.m. Thursday, Lewisville police officers were dispatched to calls about an active shooter at the business in the 1800 block of Lakeway Drive.

Detectives in the nearby Lewisville Police Administrative Office at 1955 Lakeway Drive ran across the shared parking lot to Allegiance Trucking.

A woman at the front of the business told a detective the shooter was still inside.

The detective entered the building and saw Merrill standing with his hands raised. Merrill complied with commands and allegedly responded “yes” when the detective asked if he was the shooter.

The affidavit states he told detectives there were two revolvers in a jacket on the floor next to him. There was a third gun in his vehicle, according to the affidavit.

As the detective went to handcuff Merrill, he observed Collazo lying unmoving beneath a cubicle desk. Another officer and sergeant carried the woman outside to administer emergency first aid.

First responders observed multiple gunshot wounds. Lewisville Fire Department medics arrived and transported Collazo to a local hospital.

Hospital staff pronounced Collazo deceased at 12:15 p.m.

A detective who had not originally been on scene was assigned to the lead investigator role.

Several witnesses provided direct information about having observed Merrill shoot Collazo, according to the affidavit.

Detectives met with Merrill in the Lewisville Jail, where he agreed to speak with them about the shooting.

The affidavit states Merrill told detectives he was “obsessed” with Collazo. Over the course of several months, he allegedly said he was getting increasingly angry that she wasn’t paying attention to him and was taking what he thought were long breaks.

Merrill knew the exact dates of these “long” breaks and the exact lengths of the breaks, according to the affidavit.

Collazo reported the behavior to their administration and told Merrill she didn’t want him watching when she took her breaks, Merrill said.

Merrill told detectives he was made to speak with a counsel over the phone until he was approved to come back to work. When he returned, he told detectives he could tell “everyone must think he’s a psychopath” and Collazo was avoiding him.

Merrill allegedly said he then bought guns and “practiced his movements with them” at home.

Once before, Merrill allegedly drove to work with his guns on his day off but remained in the parking lot. The day before the shooting, he allegedly brought the guns to work but he said that “it didn’t feel like the right time.”

On the day of the shooting, Merrill allegedly said he followed Collazo out to the parking lot during lunch and watched her sit in her car while preparing his guns in his vehicle.

Merrill allegedly said he followed her as she went back inside and “ambushed” her at her cubicle.

The affidavit states that Merrill acted out the shooting during the interview without any prompting from detectives.

Merrill remains in the Denton County Jail as of Monday morning. His bail is set at $10,000,001.

****

When I first heard about this, it didn't mention the sex of his coworker. Only that he had shot his coworker over lengthy breaks. It's only after googling it that you find out it's a femicide, but that it's a bitty detail that connected to why he killed her.

It's only a bit further down that you see the word "obsessed". This murder wasn't about her length of the breaks she took, Tamhara Collazo was killed because she put in a complaint about him and his inappropriate behavior. The length of her breaks don't matter, this murder was in retaliation to her not only confronting him and putting in a complaint against him but also because he felt rejected by her.

This is the only other headline that I saw that didn't mention the break length. She also understood that it wasn't about the breaks at all.

Unfun fact:

The leading cause of death for women in the workplace is Homicide.

[sunny-mercya]

Climate Adjustment

Steve McGarrett x Male Reader

Fandom -> Hawaii Five 0

Masterlist

Steve crouched in front of the couch, concern etched onto his face—a telltale sign is how he nibbles onto the left side of his lower lip—as he run his hand over your sweat coated, feverish, forehead and through your hair.

»How you feeling today? Any better?« asked Steve, laying the thin wool blanket—which had fallen off during your few hours of sleep—back over your, tugging you in a bit.

Even weeks later—when Steve had decided, discussing such big decisions with you of course first beforehand, to stay in Hawaii (his home country), after the funeral of his father and being offered a job as a Commander for a new special task force team—you still weren't adjusting well to the Hawaiian climate, being stuck in a constantly state of feeling sickly.

From nausea and stomach cramps, to muscle aches and feverish headaches and all the way to minimal blood in your urin—the list of symptoms you currently experience, more like suffering thru, wasn't a short termed diagnosis.

At first Steve believed it's just a one week thing—after all, Danny too didn't take the all Hawaiian Vibe well at first, but now his friend is only being huffy iffy about it—but after a week turned into a another and into third and fourth passing one, Steve begun to worry that it might be something much serious.

»...not so....good...« you mumbled out, barely glancing at your boyfriend, eyes too heavy riddled with clustering sleep.

»Alright. We're going to the doctor.« Steve sits you up—putting the blanket around your shivering body like a jacket—taking out his keys from the pockets, before picking you up and carrying you out of the house and into the car.

~~~•~~~

Steve had been halfway to the hospital—because he still hadn't found a main doctor to go to—when Danny called and telling him how his requirement is needed for stopping a bank hostage.

And Steve had half a mind to tell Danny off, that he couldn't come—because you and your health is priority right now—but Steve, here comes his Navy Sea characteristics, had to fulfil his job as well—a job to which he had sworn the Pledge of Allegiance to it, to protect and defend the country and its citizens from any harm.

So, Steve—albeit hesitantly and with a heavy sighed glance towards your exhausted, slumped, from in the passenger seat next to him—told Danny he's on his way.

»I'm sorry, [Nickname]. We're at the hospital soon, I just need to do a quick stop before. Promise it won't take long.« Steve placed his hand on your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

When Steve stepped out of the car—after making sure the windows are open, you having a bottle of water and still tucked in the blanket—Danny came jogging towards him, giving a update of the current situation as he puts on his bulletproof vest.

»Why did you bring [Name] along?« ask Danny, walking towards your side of the car and opening the door—wanting to give you a short greeting, only to see your sweaty and flushed face.

»Did you two had car sex?« it had been a serious legitimate question of Danny, when he saw your face and it had been the only conclusion as of why you looked like this—Steve expression crunched up into a disbelief of irritation, couldn't what stupidity he just heard from his partner.

»No. We didn't. [Name]'s sick, was just about to take him to the hospital, when you called.«

»Oh,« was all Danny could say, crouching down and patting your knee for attention, sending a small comforting smile your way—but just like with Steve before, you barely could give a glance back.

»Hey, [Nickname], we won't take long. Promise. You think you can hold out so long?« and when you nodded as a answer, Danny patted your knee again.

~~~•~~~

No one in Five-0 had thought, or more like calculated in, when one of the suspects runs out of the bank—that you're being taken as a hostage and with you being sick, you weren't able to possibly defend yourself.

Though they haven't to think about a way of getting you out of the hostage situation—as Steve, who had followed another suspect through a backdoor, had come out from a alley

Steve marched towards the suspect, looking murderous brooding—expression a furious sneer of anger—as he loomed, with his tall height, behind the man and takes the guy with one quick movement into a chokehold and Steve throws him over his shoulder, hard onto the ground.

You sagged to the ground like a stingless puppet, breathing heavily—face even more flushed than before—headache pounding into your skull and while you glanced up to the worried faces of Danny and Kono, you swore you saw their swirling twins.

Steve was at your side in a instant, heaving you up in his arms—asking the others if they could do the rest on their own and without even waiting for a answer, Steve brought you back to the car and starts driving with too much speed to the hospital.

~~~•~~~

»What did the Doctor said?« asks Danny, who had came to Steves home after they finished the case—wanting to check up on you as well, after all you're his friend—taking the bottle of beer, which Steve offers to him with a thanks.

»[Name]'s body isn't adapting to the sudden climate change as it should, which is the reason why he gotten so sick. Doctor gave me a prescription for some medication injections and [Name] should be getting better in two weeks.« Steve lets himself fall onto the couch.

»I hope so.« adds Steve after a minute of silence, taking another sip from his beer.

Even when coming back home and Steve carrying you upstairs to bed—the past weeks you had slept on the couch, hadn't the energy to even move yourself upstairs—you looked much worse than this morning, when Steve had decided to bring you to the doctor.

Steve had just injected you with a medicine dose—Doctor telling him it's easier this way than with pills or liquid medicine to drink—cooling down your feverish heated skin, with a cold washcloth, when Danny ringed the door and now he tells his partner about his worries.

»[Name] getting better, don't worry too much.«

And Steve really does hope so.

[ghostwise]

Matacuervos, ch. 4 - La joya Hamal and Zevran find a lead in the brothels of Rialto, but will they manage to investigate it in time? Read update on AO3 - Read from the beginning on AO3

“Philanthropists,” the woman said with a flourish, and she snapped her fan shut in distaste.

It was hot in the basement of the brothel, La espina dorsal , and the thick and heavy scent of bodies permeated the room. The heat was making her make-up drip off, which was quite a sight to see amidst a backdrop of entwined lovers.

“Philanderers, more like,” she continued. “They claim it’s all worth it if the babes end up cared for. That a Chantry cloister will protect them better than here.”

“You doubt it?” Zevran asked.

She scoffed.

“Not without reason,” she said. “But… if they are so charitable why not come for the orphans sooner? Why wait years between visits? Why not take every child in need, not just the healthy ones?” Bitterness laced her voice, sending a shiver down Zevran’s spine. “All I know is, the day my friends were taken was the day I decided I was done with the Maker. Perhaps you can ask the Chantry why they don’t help all of us; why a bum leg makes a six year old girl unfit to serve Andraste, but fit enough to stay in this sty.”

Zevran glanced at Hamal, sharing the same grim thought. Rocio’s mangled leg would have been a death sentence for a young Crow recruit. And yet, leaving her behind was no mercy.

Zevran shifted closer, asking his next question with great care.

“It seems your friends were taken around the time frame we are investigating. Do you recall anything else about the day they left?”

A lengthy pause followed. Her eyes briefly seemed to focus elsewhere, before she answered. “No. I’m sorry. They didn’t leave any information. Just said I wouldn’t be a good fit where they were going.”

“Thank you for your time,” Zevran said when they had finished talking. “And your lovely company.”

“Didn’t even do nothing!” Rocio chuckled, taking the money. “But alright. See you ‘round.”

Stepping out of the brothel, Zevran couldn’t help but feel as stifled as he had indoors.

The sun bore down like a dagger. They’d spent all day searching for leads, visiting brothels and orphanages across the city with the same story: that they were tracking down a long-lost relative.

It was not entirely a lie. Zevran felt a genuine kinship with the workers of Rialto’s brothels; they had raised him, after all, and just like anyone else in the city, they sought only to make a living, to raise enough coin to build a life. But they had few protections when things went wrong. A single misfortune—a death, an illness, or an arrest—was all it took. When children were involved, it spelled grim consequences.

They had yet to find any tangible evidence, but many of the brothels had reported curiously similar anecdotes: a generous donor, a charitable organization, or an anonymous do-gooder who arrived to adopt the forgotten children. The offer would come with uncanny timing, often just when it was needed most. And who could argue against one less mouth to feed?

No records, no documentation of where they’d go. It was easy for the city to look the other way, for these were orphans or bastards or both. And so they were taken, no questions asked.

It made Zevran’s blood boil.

He sulked in a bad mood the entire way back to the cheap sawdust inn they’d paid double what the humans paid to lodge at. He persisted in a sour mood through dinner, and even after they went to bed—only to wake Hamal in the small hours of the morning, too angry to sleep.

“I do not think it was the Chantry that came for those children ten years ago,” Zevran hissed. “Or perhaps I don’t want to believe it… and yet, Sister Tristeza spoke of this allegiance between the Crows and the Chantry. How deeply does it run? I am a devout man—even I’ve heard rumours that one bore the other long ago.”

“Which one?” Hamal asked in a sleep-tinged voice, but Zevran continued in frustration.

“Of course a girl with a mangled leg would be found unfit for the Crows. She would have died during training. But would knowing the true fate of her friends change anything? She was abandoned. She needed saving.” Here he paused, for his anger threatened to spill over.

Rocio’s fate felt intertwined with his, separated only by happenstance. Her mangled leg had saved her, but not from everything.

“Could she still need saving?” Hamal asked, and Zevran realized, by the cadence of his words, that he was half-asleep. “Could we?”

The question resonated enough to slow Zevran’s racing thoughts. He couldn’t tell whether Hamal meant could we need saving, also? or could we save her?

It felt self-aggrandizing to think they could save anyone, damned as they already were.

“I don’t fucking know,” he said at last, all too aware of his bitterness leeching out.

Hamal sighed and regarded Zevran for a long moment.

“Someone will put a stop to it,” he said finally. “The people will not allow it to continue once they realize what is happening. They will wonder why they never hear word from the adopted, and they will be wary when the next Crow recruiter comes.”

“With any luck,” Zevran said fiercely, “We’ll find him ourselves first. And put daggers in him until he tells us all we need to know.”

“Exactly.” Hamal fell back onto his pillow, like a log. “Come back to bed, vhenan .”

Zevran shook his head. Sleeplessness had claimed him already—yet he grudgingly climbed under the thin sheets with Hamal.

“I will, but I won’t sleep.”

“Keep watch then,” Hamal said, in a voice drowsy enough to curb any argument. He latched onto Zevran’s arm and then he was out like a light—leaving Zevran in awe of how quickly his husband could sleep, even in these circumstances.

.

Dawn broke over the city and fatigue had tempered Zevran’s anger for the time being. He’d managed to sleep for an hour or two before they began the day’s investigations. Fortunately he was used to running on fumes.

“How many brothels are there in Rialto?”

It was a particularly sunny morning. Hamal had pushed all of his curls into a messy bun, and shoved the whole mess beneath a wide-brimmed sombrero , but Zevran rather suspected he needed more sun protection than that. For now he led him through shaded alleyways, avoiding the crowded main streets and the direct sunlight.

“It’s a very large port city,” he responded.

“So?”

“Lots.” Zevran smiled at him. “About a dozen at least. Ah, if only we were here under better circumstances! A brothel is normally a place of good cheer and relaxation.”

“We will just have to come back when we are not tracking down slavers,” Hamal said with a smile.

“Now there’s an idea,” Zevran said, contemplating it. His thoughts briefly recalled The Pearl in Denerim. “In any case,” he continued, “one of these places is bound to have a lead. Someone, somewhere, knows something. We just need to find the right person to talk to.”

“Perhaps,” Hamal said. “We may have already found her.”

He gestured with a short motion of his head to the cobblestone road behind them. Zevran followed his gaze.

It took him a moment to recognize her without the heavy layers of make-up, and she walked in the company of another woman, but her dark curls were the same as when they’d seen her yesterday, and she carried the same light-weight aluminum cane with her. It caught the light and shone like a mirror as she swung it forward with every step.

She greeted them with the false names they had taken to using in the city. “Amrit! Hirael! My, you two are hard to track down!”

“How did you manage?” Zevran asked.

“Whores talk, you know,” Rocio laughed. “I mentioned your visit to my friend here, and I quickly learned you’d been visiting nearly every brothel this side of town. I said, Maker, he must have an appetite!”

The woman beside her offered her hand. “Elena,” she said, giving Zevran and Hamal’s a hearty shake. “I work at La joya. ”

“A pleasure,” Zevran said.

“It will be,” Rocio said. “Tell them!”

Elena waved her hand excitedly, beckoning Zevran closer, and when he was near enough, she whispered: “A man came to La joya a few days ago,” she said. “He was from some charity in Salle. A trade school for impoverished children. He said his work took him around the country—to brothels, orphanages, hospitals, you know. Places where children often wound up alone. They’d teach them to read and write, and hire them out to factories who would provide for them while they worked. Any child! The elves, the humans, even if they were mage-blooded. Sounds fishy, hm?”

Zevran took a deep breath. This was it; exactly what they’d been looking for.

“Can we find somewhere to talk?” he asked. “You can tell us what you know, and we will tell you a little more about why we are here.”

.

They came to a brick building, covered in flowers that clung to the walls in enticing greenery. La joya lived up to its name. The windows glimmered and the scent of perfume was strong, even outside. Inside, the atmosphere likened more to a spa or a fine bathhouse. This did not escape Zevran, who raised a brow, looking at Hamal.

“Can’t say I’ve ever been here,” he said.

“Can’t say I’ve ever worked here,” Rocio sighed. She rubbed her hip with a grimace as they walked on.

They were greeted by several guests as they went. More than once, Elena kissed a patron on the cheek, shook hands, or embraced them with a cheerful, “Lovely to see you! But it’s my day off, darling. Do come again tomorrow.”

Down a hallway and to the left, they passed a well-stocked kitchen, then exited again to a central courtyard where potted flowers were arranged in clusters along the path. It was quiet, with the bustle of the streets lowered to a dim hum. From there they crossed the way to another building, which rose above the treeline.

“Where are we going?” Hamal asked.

“To speak to the boss,” Elena said. “The apartments are this way.”

“Apartments? Your employer lives where the workers live?” Zevran asked.

It was far from what Zevran was expecting. The building they arrived at was a tenement for the workers—aged, with flaking plaster, small and humble rooms, yet clean and maintained. When Elena knocked on the door, it was like they were visiting anyone on the street. The middle-aged woman who answered looked like any woman at the market.

“Ah, it is you!” she said, and waved everyone inside. “Come on in. I take it you are you the ones tracking down your family?”

Rocio made a beeline to a wood and wicker chair near the woodstove. She sat and hung her cane on a hook on the wall, then procured a small bag of tobacco from a drawer.

“Mind if I smoke?” she asked.

Elena walked into what could barely be termed a living room. She dropped into the lap of a tall light-haired man, who kissed her, gripping her tightly by the shoulders.

“Take that as a yes,” Rocio hummed.

There were a lot of people in the apartment, gathered together with the ease of friends who’d known one another for years. For a moment, Zevran wondered if he’d misunderstood the purpose of the visit, but they were guests, and so, he practiced patience for the time being.

“Thank you for having us,” Zevran said, shifting his bag off his shoulder. “Who is the owner of La joya?”

Rocio stifled a laugh. She grinned, as if she was revealing a grand secret with her answer.

“Everyone!”

It took a bit of explaining.

There were nine people crammed into that tiny apartment, six of them workers at La joya . Besides Elena, there were Damian and Cora—prostitutes. Lara, who had answered the door, managed the washrooms. Jania, an elven bodyguard on her day off. Terrance, a stripper—distinguished from Damian and Cora for his strict no-touch policy, though he assured them, he had no need of touch to leave his audience satisfied.

“I don’t quite understand,” Hamal said in whispered to Zevran in Common. “They explained it too quickly.”

“It is something like what the workers of The Pearl did,” Zevran explained. “But they went a step further—they pooled their money to buy the entire business.”

“We are the Rialto Society of Pleasures,” Elena said with a flourish. “Cooperatives like this exist across the country—but we are the first for workers of brothels and pleasure houses. We keep the money we make, and work together to run things.”

“It works,” Rocio drawled amidst puffs of smoke, “more or less. There is quite a bit of turnover—”

“Because no one is bound to stay,” Lara said. “That is important. No contracts. Just rent, and board, for those who opt to live in the tenement, that sort of thing.”

Zevran took in the information as he did anything else in life; recognizing its immediate impact on him (none) and its objective merit (excellent). He sidled up to the counter in the small kitchen and looked at all the proud and smiling faces around him.

If his mother had wound up in a brothel like this—

But she hadn’t. No use dwelling on it.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” he said. “Were I not otherwise occupied with my husband I might even consider applying!”

“Really?” Rocio giggled. “Get in line. My application’s been in for months.”

They had good reason to be proud. Not every prostitute was so fortunate. And yet, it had taken years, a lot of work, and a dash of luck to make it happen.

But they had not come here to talk about business; Zevran quickly refocused.

“Now that we understand how things are run here, tell us about this visitor you received. Who exactly spoke to this man?”

“Jania and Damian,” Lara said.

“And so when the stranger came and offered to adopt any orphaned children…”

“We told him we had no unwanted children,” Damian explained. “Some of the workers choose to raise families, yes. And occasionally we take in children when their parents cannot care for them. But it’s never a hardship. So he left empty-handed. That was that.”

“But that was not all,” Hamal observed after a moment, in his careful Antivan. “Or why talk to us?”

A lull passed over the small group. Rocio pulled a deep drag from her cigarette.

“We robbed him,” Jania said.

“Ha!” Hamal’s face lit up; his Antivan was still middling, but he understood her easily.

Damian produced a piece of paper from his waistcoat pocket. He passed it to Cora who passed it to Lara, who handed it to Zevran, who unfolded it.

“These fools are always writing shit down and it is their own undoing,” Hamal observed in Common, as he read over Zevran’s shoulder.

The paper contained a handwritten list of brothels in the city. The majority of them were struck out, along with a tally system beside some of the names. Only a few on the list remained unchecked. El milagro was one of the brothels which had not yet been struck through.

“I didn’t like him,” Damian said. “He gave me a bad feeling. But I didn’t think anything of it until Rocio stopped by, and mentioned your search for information. Could this have anything to do with it?”

Zevran creased the paper slightly, brow furrowed. “These tallies…”

“Whores he slept with, we assumed,” Rocio said.

“No,” Zevran said softly. “Children they’ve taken. I think I must tell you,” he said, looking up at the Rialto Society of Pleasures, “The truth. But it is horrible. And we have little time to act.”

.

Rocio had put out her cigarette. She sat hunched at the table, lost in her thoughts, and she hadn’t spoken since Zevran explained his suspicions and his lived proof. Sometimes the truth was cruel. Even when it was necessary.

The rest of them considered what could be done.

“We should bring the list to the city guard,” Jania suggested.

“What will they do, exactly? A piece of paper is hardly proof of anything. Even if they believed us, something tells me they wouldn’t exactly jump to action,” Elena said.

“Unfortunately, you are correct,” Zevran said. “What I have shared with you is already common knowledge in some circles; I am quite certain the owner of the brothel I grew up in knew exactly where he was sending us off to. But… you deserve to know for yourselves, what has been happening all these years.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“We are going to find them,” Hamal said slowly. “And kill them.”

“His Antivan is not very good,” Zevran added in the silence that followed. “He means, we will tie them up. As in, we will capture them.”

Hamal glanced at him, annoyed.

Zevran held up the note. “You have helped us tremendously with this information alone,” he said. “Thank you. I pray you never have to deal with these slavers again. If we have any success, you won’t.”

“That’s all?” Rocio asked, looking up at him over an ashtray.

“Please! Whatever you are going to do, we want to be a part of it,” Elena insisted. “These are our children targeted.”

Zevran frowned. He strongly felt that it was not wise to get more people involved; too many hands in too delicate of a situation. He had intended to warn rather than invite, to protect rather than endanger, but Hamal set a hand on his shoulder, switching to whispered Common.

“Might be good to have eyes out, Zev. There are a lot of names on this list and we cannot surveil all of them. Let’s do it this way,” he said, gesturing to the paper. “Send them here, and here… At the very least they can carry a warning. Just in case.”

Zevran nodded thoughtfully.

It occurred to him, not for the first time, how much more daunting this journey would be like without Hamal’s counsel and support.

“Very well. Then help us in this,” he said, turning back to the group, “We cannot visit every site on this list tonight. Go to these locations.” He dabbed a gloved finger into the ashtray, and used it to indicate several names, before handing the list back to Elena. “But be discreet; simply warn them that a suspicious person might come, bearing lies. And I beg you— do not mention us, by description or name. You could endanger yourselves more than you realize.”

“Got it,” Elena said, scanning the paper already. “Let’s split up.”

“What do we do if we find the bastard?” Damian asked.

Zevran hesitated. “Stall. Wait for us to arrive.”

“But-”

“We will be there,” Zevran said quickly. “Now, we have a few hours to act; these visits, to my knowledge, happen under cover of night. We must prepare.”

.

Zevran clasped Hamal’s arm and led him away from the building at a frantic pace. That small apartment had begun to feel claustrophobic. He wanted it far behind, and besides, he knew where they were needed next.

“I’m sweating,” Hamal said, walking along hurriedly. “That building was hot. Zevran. What-”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked simply, voice clipped in urgency. Signs and windows rushed past as they half-jogged through the streets.

“Yes! The next place they will try to buy recruits from—that woman at El milagro ,” Hamal said. “She was afraid of you because she was expecting someone. Someone she didn’t want you to meet.”

“Exactly,” Zevran hissed. “He is going there soon, I know it. She wanted us gone, because she knew —she knew who I was and she knew why we were there and—”

“He is definitely going to be at El milagro . But Zevran, slow down—”

Hamal dug his heels in. Exercising a bit of his marital privilege, he scooped Zevran up into his arms, steadying him for a moment.

“Breathe, vhenan,” he said firmly. And quickly set him back down, before Zevran had a chance to complain.

Zevran huffed, glancing up at him then glaring away. “If it is the same man…”

“I know.” Hamal plucked the string of his bow, worn around his chest. “I can handle it.”

Zevran shook his head. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Listen: point at something for me to shoot. Go on. There’s no one around.”

Zevran frowned at the game. He hesitated to waste time when every second seemed necessary, but truly, he was not thinking clearly. He did as he was told. “That water pail,” he said, feeling mischievous and a little mean.

In an instant it was useless, holed up with an arrow from Hamal’s bow.

“Again,” Hamal said. “A challenge.”

Knowing perfectly well what he was capable of, Zevran spied around for a moment. Then he spoke, with an arm outstretched. “That poster on the wall, the red one. Sixty yards down. By the flowers.”

Hamal took a moment to aim, but he loosed an arrow just as easily. Of course, it hit dead center.

They walked together to retrieve the arrows.

“It will be that simple,” Hamal spoke. “You will not need to be strong, fast, or even brave for this, Zevran. Just point at him. If this is hard for you, just tell me where to shoot.”

“Amor, I appreciate that. But this will be difficult,” Zevran explained, pulling his arrow out of the wall it had embedded itself in, “Because we will need this man alive.”

He handed it to Hamal, with a somber look as the Warden took the arrow.

“We will need to take him and question him. We cannot kill him right away. That complicates things. Increases the risk of things going wrong. Think: Can he signal someone? Will he be alone or will he have backup? Will he be armed? Will he have…”

He stopped, unable to say it.

“Children with him,” Hamal concluded with a sigh. He understood, then. “Oh, ma vhenan. There was nothing you could have done for those boys in the church.”

Zevran nodded, avoiding his gaze. More than anything, he worried about what might happen.

“Let’s go,” he said.

[sc0rpiflow3r]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love! ❤️

Oh, my friend, this came at such a perfect time, I'm having this wave of self-doubt about my fics 😭.

So, I actually only have four WIPs on AO3 (believe me, I’m trying so hard not to post my Jilypad fic, but I’ve decided I’ll only post it after finishing one of my current WIPs).

Here are my babies:

Disrupted Allegiances (The Black Sisters, M rated)

Black family-centric (I’m updating a new chapter this week, btw!). It tells the story of the Black Sisters during the First and Second Wizarding Wars. Andromeda's POV covers the period before the first war (the rise of Voldemort, her falling in love with Ted, and her running away from home). Then we move on to Bellatrix’s POV (as the unhinged General of the Dark Lord during the first war). Bella has one more chapter left, which will come after the Interlude (this next chapter, which will cover the Black family’s downfall in the '80s). Narcissa’s POV will be the last, following the second wizarding war and the post-war period (and yes, Delphi will appear!). It’s canon-compliant up to The Cursed Child because I’ve decided Delphi deserves a better ending than what she got.

Turbulence (Marlene/Dorcas, E rated)

It’s crazy how F/F fics are so overlooked. I started writing this because I wanted to read Dorlene, but all I could find were fics where they were just side characters in M/M stories, and honestly, that pissed me off. So, I started writing this fic focused on them. Turbulence is canon-compliant (yes, the ending is sad, but the journey is worth it… I guess), and focus on the development of Marlene and Dorcas’ romance during the war.

Dissonance (Sirius/James, E rated)

LONG (extremely long! 12 chapters in and over 130k words) PRONGSFOOT FIC!! Dissonance follows James and Sirius from the moment they first met through their journey to becoming friends and eventually falling in love at Hogwarts. It's canon divergence, and we'll have something (which I can’t tell yet 🤐) that will happen that will cause them to fight (because I'm chaotic and love drama). This will lead to the arc where they become enemies (lots of sexual tension, friends). And the ending will be happy (I’ve actually already written the final scene), but there’s a lot of angst along the way. The story goes up until 1991 and will have between 25–35 chapters.

Fetters of the Damned (Harry/Voldemort, E rated)

This is my darkest fic (and also my most popular). It’s a dead dove because it portrays a very unequal and unhealthy relationship, so I strongly encourage readers to check the tags.

Fetters diverges from canon during the Triwizard Tournament when Voldemort lets Harry escape the graveyard and begins planning his complete domination of the wizarding world. His initial goal is to kill Harry, but when he discovers Harry is a Horcrux, his plans shift, and he decides he will have Harry at any cost. Voldemort infiltrates Hogwarts as the new DADA teacher and makes Harry’s life a living hell (who says romance is dead? lol). It’s a dark canon-divergent story that will have between 25–30 chapters, and, well, the ending fits the tone of the story (I’ve already written the final scene for this fic too).

And although it hasn’t been posted yet, my next story will be a Jilypad fic because I love themm. Such an underrated ship. Anyway, it’s Jilypad and will feature POVs from all three of them (James, Lily, and Sirius). It’s a canon-divergent story where I’ll give them all a happy ending. And who am I trying to fool? It’s mostly smut.

Thank you so much for the ask ❤️

It's nice to remember that there are people actually reading my silly ideas 😅

[captainsophiestark]

Smooth Talker Part 2

Poe Dameron x Reader

Masterlist - Part 1 - Join My Taglist!

Requested on Wattpad! I normally don't do Part 2 requests, but an idea for this one popped immediately into my head and I couldn't let it go :)

Summary: Through a truly ridiculous series of events, you've managed to become a *triple* agent for the Resistance, being sent back to your original base by the First Order as a trusted spy after spending time as a Resistance spy in First Order territory. You can't wait to be back home, and even better, to tell your boyfriend Poe Dameron just what level of bs you managed to pull off.

Word Count: 1,522

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I tried to keep a smile off my face as I stood, back straight and hands behind my back, facing General Armitage Hux. He'd been my main point of contact for the past few months after he'd been the one to recruit me as a First Order spy, and the fact that I hadn't laughed in his face a single time that he'd been telling me all about what being a spy would entail was a true testament to my skills.

I'd been undercover for the Resitance deep in First Order territory when he'd come knocking with a bunch of soldiers because he suspected my apartment was a hideout for Resistance sympathizers and activity. And, to be fair, he was right. Poe Dameron, my boyfriend, had snuck in for a rare visit and left literal minutes before Hux and his friends showed up. But I'd done such a good job answering their interrogation questions that, instead of arresting me, they'd recruited me.

Now, after months of preparing, I was being sent on my way to find and infiltrate the Resistance's base. I'd need to be careful not to blow my true allegiances, but once I got out of range of the First Order and was only expected to make occasional reports, I couldn't help thinking this would be my easiest assignment yet.

"Are we clear on communication protocols and the kind of information we're most interested in?" asked Hux as I tuned back in to the end of his lecture. I nodded once, curtly.

"Yes sir."

"Good. Then best of luck to you. You're doing your Order a great service."

I saluted, fast and sharp, exemplifying the unshakeable, blind commitment they looked for in their recruits. I held it for a few moments, then Hux nodded and I let my hand fall back to my side.

"I look forward to hearing what you have to report."

The march through the rest of the ship felt like a dream. I was being dropped fairly far from anywhere the First Order suspected of being a Resistance base to make sure no one would be suspicious of me, but I was still closer to home than I'd been in a long, long time. I could swear I felt the latent tension of the past six months ease out of my shoulders as I watched the ship disappear without me on it.

I took a moment to enjoy the feeling, then quickly got my head back in the game. There was still a chance, however slim, that Hux was playing me. If I wasn't careful, I could accidentally lead the First Order right back to the Resistance base they'd spent so long looking for.

I spent the next week doing my due diligence, making sure no one was following me and that I didn't have a tracker on me anywhere that I didn't know about. I sent a brief update to Hux through the convoluted method we'd come up with for contact, telling him that I had a lead and was going to follow up on it, and then I finally started the trek home.

When the entrance to the Resistance base finally came into view another full week and change later, my heart leapt. It was vital to my cover that I didn't let myself dwell on how much I'd missed this place while living among First Order personnel, but now that I was finally safe, I almost starting crying at the sight of it. I hadn't really realized how badly I'd wanted to be back here until now.

I walked the rest of the way up with a massive smile on my face, scanning the crowd for anybody I recognized. I got some strange looks, largely from newer recruits who didn't know me, but then finally I found one of the people I was most hoping to see.

Poe Dameron stood just across the hanger with his back to me. I grinned and started walking towards him with purpose, and after a moment, the person he was talking to noticed me and pointed over Poe's shoulder. Poe turned around with a frown that quickly changed into a confused but beaming smile, then started rushing towards me. I sped up too, until we were running towards each other across the hanger. As soon as I got in reach, Poe picked me up and spun me around in a tight hug, then set me back on the ground only to pull me into a searing kiss. I kissed him back just as hard, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and tangling my hands in his hair. I ended up breaking the kiss as a joyful laugh bubbled out of me; finally we were together without the looming threat of a First Order solider at the door ruining the moment.

"What... what are you doing here?" he asked, still smiling and completely breathless. I laughed again, joy overflowing in my chest as I looked at the man I loved.

"You'll absolutely never believe it," I said with a crooked smile. He raised an eyebrow at me, so I continued. "I've been recruited as a spy for the First Order."

"...You what?"

I laughed as Poe stared at me, brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what was happening. I couldn't exactly blame him–I still wasn't totally sure how I'd managed to get here.

"It's the craziest story you'll ever hear, and I promise to tell you every last detail later tonight. But right now, I should really go and see Leia."

"Now hold on a minute," Poe said, grabbing my waist and pulling me a little tighter to him. As if I'd be moving away from him voluntarily any time soon. "You have to give me a little more than that, first."

I smiled. "Okay, but you have to promise not to freak out when I tell you the first part."

Poe frowned, looking incredibly nervous, but nodded anyway.

"Alright..."

"So remember the last time I saw you, when you visited me in the apartment where I was hiding out to spy on the First Order? Well that same night, right after you left, General Hux and Kylo Ren themselves came knocking with a whole host of troopers at their backs."

"They WHAT?"

"You said you wouldn't freak out! Just listen."

I could see Poe practically vibrating and fuming with delayed panic and about a thousand questions, but to his credit, he managed to hold them back with nothing more than slightly tightening his grip on my waist.

"Well, they asked me a bunch of questions because they thought a Resistance spy base was operating out of my apartment-" Poe winced, but I ignored him and kept going. "-and I answered the questions well enough that they decided I was clearly a loyal member of the First Order with a passion for them and their rule. So, instead of arresting me, they recruited me to be a spy! Of course I said yes, and now I'm here as a triple agent, so I can feed them a bunch of bad information, or information that comes just a little too late for them to do anything about it while still being correct, all while being here again, on base with you and everybody else."

Poe huffed a disbelieving laugh, just staring and blinking at me for a few moments while he processed. Then a smile spread across his face again, even as he shook his head.

"That is... incredible. I can think of about a thousand other things I could say about it too, but... just wow."

"I know," I said with a grin. I stepped back slightly out of his embrace, then took his hand instead. At some point we would have to go do separate activities on base, but I didn't plan on spending a second away from Poe right now until I had to. "Now, I need to go talk to Leia and Major Ematt about all this. Come with me?"

Poe matched my grin, still shaking his head but letting me pull him out of the hanger base with me.

"Of course. I'd follow you anywhere, you absolute maniac."

I just laughed as Poe fell into step beside me, our hands still held tight as we marched through the base. By no means was this war over; we still had so much work to do, and being back on base didn't even come close to putting me out of danger. But now I was in danger and fighting alongside Poe and all the people I cared about, while still putting my skills as a spy to full use. It was the best of both worlds, and in the middle of fighting back against an Empire that just didn't want to stay down, victories like this alongside loved ones were the things most worth fighting for.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

[levi501ackerman]

Allegiance: Part 2 | Levi x Reader

masterlist

Summary: The Survey Corps comes to dinner and you anxiously want to give Levi your gift.

Word Count: 2.9k

Megan's Note: Song correlated: Playing Dangerous by Lana Del Rey. Okay ugh I this is going to be 4 parts sorry. Also update: I broke up with my boyfriend and I'm going to fill the void with AOT, Levi x Reader, writing and studying for finals. LOL Posted: 4/28/24. Enjoy :)

You stared at yourself in the mirror. You thought you looked quite pretty. The Survey Corps would arrive at any moment now. The gift for Levi was wrapped in a small box. All you could think about was the moment when you could give him the gift. You daydreamed about his eyes and the way he could look at you. The way he could admire you. This was your moment to show how poise and proper you were. You smiled at yourself. This is the smile of a lady, you thought to yourself. 

You walked out of your room and when you reached the top of the stairs you could smell the faint aroma of dinner. How could the survey corps not be excited for dinner? Even if they showed up with full stomachs the scent of the braised beef will have them famished. You wanted nothing but the best for them. 

The dining room was closer to the kitchen where the chef was preparing dinner. The room was filled with the delicious scent and made your mouth water. Your father and mother were sitting at the dining table chatting. 

“Y/N, you look wonderful,” your father said.

“You are a beautiful young lady,” your mother added.

“Thank you, mother,” your cheeks felt a little heat on them. Hopefully, Levi will think you're pretty.  

“Tonight . . . why don’t you sit at the other head of the table?” Your father stood up, walked to the other end of the table, and pulled out the chair. Your eyebrows raised in the news that you were going to sit where your mother always sat. 

“Really!?” You beamed and sat in the chair. You looked at the view down the long table of candles and flowers. “Mother, you’re going to sit next to Father right? That means Levi and Hange can sit next to me.” You got up and moved the two chairs on either side of the table slightly closer to your side of the table. 

“Yes, I’d like to get to know Erwin more.” Your mother said.

“He’s a wonderful man, a good choice for the leader of the entire scout regiment.” Your Father said. “I have a little surprise for you for dessert.” You gasp hoping it was a chocolate fudge cake or brownies. 

“Really?! What is it!? I can’t wait! I hope Levi, Hange, and Erwin like coming over here!” You ran and hugged your dad. 

“I know how much you wanted to make a good impression on the survey corps. Only the best of the best for you.” Your father hugged you tightly. 

One of the military police your parents employed notified the arrival of the survey corps. You began to feel your heartbeat in your throat. The time was coming. Your family lined up in the foyer. One of the military police opened the door. Erwin, Hange, and Levi entered. You noticed they were looking everywhere in your house but you. 

“Warren!” Erwin and your father hugged. “A wonderful home you have.” 

“Your hair looks really nice, Hange,” You went to hug her which she didn’t expect, but hugged back.

“Thank you. Your dress is beautiful, you’re a very pretty girl.” You flushed especially since you know Levi heard her compliment. When you pulled away from Hange you looked at Levi who was still looking around the foyer of your home.

“Hi Levi, you look nice,” You said sweetly. His expression appeared softer. “Are you hungry?” You said looking at Hange and Levi.

“It smells wonderful,” Hange said. You grabbed both Levi and Hange’s wrists and pulled them towards the dining room. 

“You guys are sitting next to me.”

“This tastes delicious,” Erwin said after his first bite of the braised beef. Everyone had a beautiful plate with braised beef, mashed potatoes and carrots. It was warm and the beef was so tender. A dish for special occasions. It took the chef approximately four hours to make it. 

“I’m glad you enjoy it, it’s Y/N’s favorite.” Your father said smiling at you. 

“It’s very good,” Hange said.

“Your glasses are really cute, it suits you.” You said and the compliment surprised Hange. 

“Y/N! I also have a pair for expeditions that are strapped around my head, so they don’t fall off when I fly.” Hange said. 

“That makes sense.” You said. 

“What made you interested in chemistry?” Hange asked. It felt like the whole table was looking at you and listening to your response. Truly you didn’t know why. You had no passion for chemistry it was just a subject your parents had told you over and over about. They told you that those with degrees in chemistry are rare and there will always be jobs available for them. Your parents mainly wanted you to get a degree for the sake of having one. You didn’t know how to answer Hange and didn’t want to throw your parents under the carriage. 

“I guess I liked the challenge. It’s pretty abstract and I had difficulty in school. But I think I want to be a part of the research that helps us. In college, we were learning about chemicals and the process of meat preservation. To help keep meat fresh longer. I think that will help us since each district is low on meat.” You said while looking at your plate. There wasn’t much left to say. “I don’t know how chemistry would help in finding out how titans came to be, but it would be an interesting job to have. Do you have any hobbies, Hange?” You said hoping to get off the subject of chemistry and jobs.

“YES! I COLLECT ANIMAL SKULLS!” Hange said energetically. The table went silent and Erwin laughed.

“Did you kill the animals?” Your mother asked slowly. 

“No, I found them! I have four in my office!” Hange assured with a big smile.

“Hange wants to know if you still have the skull from tonight's meal,” Levi said. Hange laughed and you smiled.

“No I found them. I found a squirrel’s skull on my first expedition. I kept it for memory’s sake. Then at a shop in Trost, they were selling a bird’s skull. I also have a chicken and a rat’s skull.”

“That’s so cool! Have you visited a taxidermy shop? I bet you could find more skulls.” You said.

“What’s taxidermy?” Hange asked.

“It’s preserving an animal by stuffing them.” You said.

“I don’t think this is a good topic for dinner,” Your mother said then laughed. 

“I can give you the address later,” You whispered. “Levi, do you have any hobbies?” Levi glanced at Erwin who was laughing loudly at what your father said.

“I have a small collection of tea leaves, ” Levi said. Damn it. If only you knew that so you could have gotten him tea leaves or perhaps pretty decorated jars to keep them in. 

“Oh, that’s cute! So you must like tea a lot. The place we were at yesterday not only has really good black tea, but green as well. How long until you leave the city?”

“We have four days left,” Hange said. You gasped excitedly. That’s enough time to find a tea leaf jar for Levi. 

“Levi you’ll have time to go back to the cafe! Get the green tea! I can go with you!” You said and Hange smirked at Levi. 

“Maybe.” 

“The owner is really kind I bet if you ask he’ll give you tea leaves.” You said and Levi unexpectedly gave you a small smile. You started to feel the heat on your cheeks. Levi smiled at you!

“I hope you all have room for dessert!” Your father cheerfully said to the table. “I asked the chef to make one of Y/N’s favorite desserts.” You were beaming excited for the surprise your father was giving you. 

The chef and some staff brought six plates of chocolate souffle with cut-up strawberries on top with chocolate sauce. You gasped excitedly. 

“Thank you, father!” You said not taking your eyes off the plate coming towards you.

“This looks good,” Levi said which made your heart flutter. 

“Well if there are extras maybe you can take some when you leave.” You offered. The table silently ate the cake because the rich chocolate was so delightful. Everyone quickly ate the dessert. The strawberries with the chocolate sauce was your favorite part. The sounds filling the room were the clattering of spoons scraping the cake off the plate. Inside you were very happy that the survey corps were enjoying the food you were offering. You noticed you could hear your heartbeat because, at the end of the dessert, you were planning on giving Levi your gift. You just needed the perfect window. You hoped your father would suggest showing Erwin something or anything to cause a distraction. Your father always brought up his gun collection to guests you wished for once he would. 

“I think this is a good time to give you a gift, Y/N,” Erwin said and stood up from his chair. You furrowed your brows and your mouth was slightly agape. Erwin dug through a small jacket pocket. You look at Hange who has a smile on her face and you turned to your father.

“Father, do you know about this?” You asked.

“He doesn’t,” Erwin said handing you a small velvet blue bag. Your eyes go big. You carefully pull the ribbons and open the pouch. You felt a cool metal touch. Then you pull out a small Wings of Freedom pin. You gasped loudly and Erwin offered a kind smile. 

“THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU, COMMANDER ERWIN! I LOVE IT! I LOVE IT! I LOVE IT” You sprung up and hugged him and he chuckled. You were bouncing at the small gift. 

“What is it dear?” Your mother asked. 

“He got me a Wings of Freedom pin!” You showed the pin to your mother and father across the long dinner table. “Thank you so much, Commander Erwin!”

“Your admiration for the scouts is very much appreciated. We appreciate your support.” Erwin said and you gave the salute. 

“Thank you so much! I’ll wear it every day!” Though the pin didn’t match your dress, a smile never left your face as you put it on. 

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Erwin.” Your mother said. 

“Erwin, I have a gift for you as well. It’s from my gun collection.” Your father said laughing and getting up from his chair. 

“I guess we’re all gift-exchanging,” Erwin said and smiled at you before following your father out of the room. This was your opportunity.  

“Hey Levi, I have a gift for you.” You said softly hoping he didn’t hear how nervous you were. He stared back at you. You could see he was confused or surprised? “Come with me!” You grabbed his wrist and pulled him out of his chair. Hange started laughing. You let go of his wrist when you hit the bottom of the stairs. “It’s up in my room. Follow me.” You dashed upstairs excitedly and Levi followed. He looked around your foyer again taking in the interior design of your home. He’s never seen a home like yours. “This is my room . . .” You said entering a door slightly down the hall way. You turned on a small lamp next to your bed and then the room was dimly lit. Levi was surprised at how large your room was. To him, it was probably the size of a living room. He saw how neat your room was. The bedding of your room was a dark red. The headboard was white wood with red fancy stitching and the end of the bed was white wood with red florals. There was a white and dark red floral print on your pillows. Levi saw the lace drapes on your window and how feminine the paintings in your room were. He saw you bent over opening a drawer from your large vanity. There were candles and fresh flowers sitting on top. It was unbelievable how this was a room for one person.

“What’s this gift you were talking about?” He asked. You got the gift from the drawer and walked to him smiling. 

“This is for you.” You said and Levi noticed that your hands were slightly shaking when holding out the small box. He looked at the box and then at you. He hesitated and then carefully grabbed the box. You held your hands nervously and watched him open the box slowly. He raised his eyebrows slightly. Levi was taken back by this gift. 

“What . . is . . this . . . ?” He said slowly and had a confused expression. You gently took the box from him and grabbed his right hand. He let you.

“I just want you to have something to remember me bye,” You said softly. You put a platinum ring with a center stone of a square Jubilee cut of malachite on his middle finger. Levi stared at the ring on his right hand. Then he stared at you.

“This is . . . very extravagant for someone you met a few days ago.” He said.

“Do you not like it? I just . . . don’t want you to forget me.” It felt like Levi didn’t like the gift. It’s not like you were asking him to marry you. Your heart was pounding and your shoulders were tense. You kept looking at each other in the eyes. 

“It’s the nicest gift I’ve received.” He said quietly. You stepped a little closer to him. You were so close, that you noticed how clean he smelled. He stared at you and he seemed slightly nervous. Your presence was overwhelming to him. Levi hoped no one would walk in. 

“You’re really handsome, Levi . . .” He noticed the sparkle in your eyes in the dimly lit room. “Do you . . . think I’m pretty?” His chest was noticeably rising up and down. Levi noticed how tense he was. You were so close to him. He hoped you didn’t notice his blush. 

“How old are you?” He whispered. You were not expecting him to ask that. You began to worry you were too young for him. You thought about lying, but you knew he would not like that at all. You looked down at your hands. 

“Why? How old are you?” You asked, Levi looked away. 

“Answer. How old are you?” He firmly whispered. You hesitated and he looked into your eyes. 

“Twenty-three.” You whispered and there was hope in your voice. He gazed at you. He was still. You could tell he was not someone who romantically took charge. He was as nervous as you. “Answer. Do you think I’m pretty?” He swallowed and was hesitant to answer. He was tense and breathing hard. You were taking up all his thoughts. 

“Very.” He whispered. Your heart fluttered. Levi couldn’t help but feel nervous around you. You looked at his hands they looked so nice and you wanted to touch him. The ring looked elegant on him. You wanted him to touch you. He felt like a slave to his body. You were making him think dirty thoughts and you were causing him to imagine things he’s never wanted before. He imagined how you would look below him or with your dress off. He shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts. He blushed deeply because it felt like you were reading his mind. You were quite a bit younger than him and your parents were downstairs. Along with his boss. “What do you want?”

“Same as you . . .” You whispered.

“ . . . Y/N . . . I-I don’t—” You stepped closer to him and your beautiful eyes gazing at him. He hasn’t had anything he wanted this close to him.

“Then why did you follow me to my room . . . ?” You whispered then gently put your hand on his bicep. He slightly flinched and then he let you slowly pet his arm. “ . . . And why haven’t you told me to stop?” You glanced at his arm, his lips, and then his eyes. “ . . . do you want me to stop, Levi?”

“ . . . No,” He whispered. You gently pressed your lips on his. Your first kiss. So soft. He hesitated, then kissed back passionately. He caressed your neck. You pulled away and his eyes were your favorite color. “ . . . I don’t think your father would approve of me . . .” 

“Hot,” You tugged his shirt, making him kiss you again. He kissed with more confidence and enthusiasm. He walked you back into a wall. Your back hit the wall. You took his hand and laid it on your right breast. He jerked his hand away from the sudden realization he touched a boob. You took his wrist and guided his hand back on your boob. He squeezed it and then took his lips away from yours. He breathed heavily, glanced at your body, and moved his hands around your waist. He looked into your longingly eyes and then looked down. 

“We should . . . get back,” he whispered with a hint of annoyance.

“Come over tonight . . . if you want more . . . I could . . . leave my window open. Will you be able to get up?” You said.

“Yes . . . thank you for the gift, Y/N. It’s the nicest gift anyone has given me.” He said admiring the malachite ring.

“Can we go to the cafe tomorrow? I want to spend more time with you . . .” You asked. 

“A spoiled brat like you have never heard no.” He whispered. You slapped his chest and he let you. 

masterlist

[cutieclangen]

Moon 10, Part 1

Weekly updates are likely just going to be one page until after I move. Thanks for your patience! <3

Eee new kits coming soon! Not everyone is crazy about the idea though.. I wonder how that can backfire

Prev | Next

Start from the beginning

Current Allegiances

[ceiling-karasu]

Update on AU World-building

Like how the concept of Jollin means I have to restructure my plans with Cherry Valley and the Flower Hill Command Center, the idea of Rana Roja means that I need to do some restructuring of some of my countries in the AU.

This is a lot of work that is coming from a reporter background OC that I might plan on using for one or two scenes later down the line.

I was talking to both kosmicpowers and 32girassoisdevangogh about some of the countries in my AUs, and I realized that I have been seeing the Equatorial Allegiance (Africa)

As one 'country,' per say, with the color separations representing a flag, while in South America I have been seeing this

As two entirely separate countries divided down the middle, with the one on the right being the República de Cultivos Oleaginosos (mostly Venezuela, and I know the name is awkward in Spanish, but I did not expect to ever have to say it more than a few times).

I'm not sure why my brain decided on that? Possibly because this screenshot suggests that many countries just have one color on the flag, and I attributed that to South America but not Africa somehow.

Assuming those are the flags of other nations and not symbolizing something else, or even just not showing detail here.

So now the problem is more or less this area.

I kind of want Rana Rosa to be pink like the figurine I found, but not unnaturally so.

She would need to be a natural color found in nature. The closest to pink a frog (for the most part) can get in a variant of the Strawberry Poison Dart Frog found around Red Frog Beach of Isla Bastimentos, Panama.

Naming the entirety of Panama in the AU as Red Frog Beach, a peaceful fishing, tourist, and agricultural nation, sounds nice. It also sets a precedent for the entirety of China to just be called 'Rabbit Village.'

The problem is, why would that area not already be a region the United States Alliance had taken over in order to be used as a base or foothold to get the oil down below? It could be protected by the República de Cultivos Oleaginosos, but it is next to the green country.

UNLESS the green and yellow there are also a flag, and this was one country all along. Kind of big though, but I guess it did the same thing as the Equatorial Allegiance, with a group of countries banding together to protect from occupiers wishing to steal their oil and lives.

I DO NOT PLAN to just retcon my own stories and AU once they have been already published, though. I skimmed back through The Rod that Blocks the Lightning, and I do not appear to have mentioned a separate country next to the oil producing one, so I should be good to go in making it one country.

Red Frog Beach, however, was not allowed to join the República. It is too distant and remote for the army to move into the areas if they were invaded. They would also need offices and collections of important documents, which could be used against the rest of the country if occupied by the United States Alliance that wants the oil.

As per a treaty, both the República de Cultivos Oleaginosos and the United States Alliance leave Red Frog Beach as a neutral territory, although both may have secret bases of operations within the country. Something like this may have happened in real life? I'll have to look it up.

Perhaps The Hague also have an office there, in order to keep the peace as much as they can, which is how Rana Roja joins after she accidentally stumbles upon a secret wolf base one day and successfully manages to gather evidence and report on it.

Anyway, here is a basic Picrew of how I would expect she dresses as a court reporter (since I can’t draw frogs yet).

[eggymf-archived]

of paper planes and wildflowers; 14

ft. ominis gaunt with f!reader (series)

chapter warnings: mild violence, non-consensual legilimens, torture, kinda plot-heavy, a story within a story

chapter summary: it wasn't easy being a wielder of ancient magic, just as it also wasn't pleasant to have a partner-in-crime who was getting more and more volatile when it comes to his desperate search for a cure. luckily for the new 5th year, there was your circle of friends, who gladly took them in to destress for a little while. who would've thought that your fates will get intertwined on a deeper level by this innocent little choice. 

word count: 5.1k

a/n: oh wow it took me way too long to update this (work was whooping my butt as usual sadly) sorry about that. also, i will be releasing a one-shot related to this series alongside the next chapter. until then, i shall continue writing (unfortunately).

main masterlist || series masterlist || AO3

Human bonds— the connecting threads that are either fulfilling or destructive; a means of self-discovery through interaction with others. Through having companions, one learns about the self and the world via their experiences together, and by staying in the relationship, a dynamic is made. 

Although each dynamic had its own unique beauty and charm, the true-to-life depictions as opposed to the scenarios that play out within silly little heads usually had a stark difference, both of which are shown by the two present cases involving two pairs of Hogwarts students in this very moment.

The first pair was in the main room of the Undercroft, unexpectedly screaming their heads off in a pointless debate on morals. Their topic mainly revolved around the importance of “trust” and “allegiances”, which eventually shifted into the heated (and rather personal) discussion of one's “level of maturity” and “baseless accusations”. Their relationship wasn't this vexing before— in fact, they got along so well to the point that they'd share secrets with each other right off the bat.

The other pair was, unlike the previous, calm and collected, patiently waiting for the other two to cease their blown out-of-proportion argument for the betterment of their wits. Surprisingly, their dynamic wasn’t initially this harmonious either, until the layers of prejudice and false perceptions were eventually shed.

A sigh of utter dismay escaped your lips as you finally shut the lid of the inconspicuous chest, descending down the flight of stairs within the enchanted space and trudging back to a very relaxed Ominis. He was sitting cross-legged on the velvet-upholstered sofa, sipping a freshly brewed cup of tea while a plate of snacks lowered itself gently at the side table. As for the young Gaunt's flawless capability in maintaining his composure, it would seem that his mandatory etiquette lessons as a boy had served him well.

“This is the third time today, isn't it?” he nonchalantly asks. A biscuit floated towards you, which you accepted gratuitously as you sat beside him.

“Unfortunately, yes. Good thing we're done with lessons for the day,” you groaned. 

“So what is it this time? This is the longest argument they've had to date,” Ominis grumbles.

Two days. Two long, arduous days of unbearable tension between Skylar Evans and Sebastian Sallow— Merlin knows how long this will go on, but you sure hope that they'd stop all of this madness soon and just reconcile already.

"An argument? It's hardly just that, my dearest. It's a war, if you ask me. Sebastian's absolutely livid, going off about his incapability of trusting goblins. Apparently, Skylar considered working together with one?”

A grimace contorts itself on his formerly calm complexion, his slender hands gingerly placing the teacup set at the side table. 

“That would explain his hostility then,” Ominis sighed. “Goblins were the ones who cursed Anne after all.”

You blinked owlishly before dread slowly dawned upon you, your blood running cold at his sudden revelation. 

“Oh… Oh. I—”

“There's no need for apologies, my sweet. It's not like you were informed about it beforehand,” he reassures. “You wouldn't have been able to deduce it at first glance either.”

“But still…”

It was undoubtedly a touchy subject that stirred a sense of guilt in your chest for unknowingly bringing it up, yet despite it all, curiosity lingers at the back of your head: this had all begun ever since that recent incident that you had accidentally witnessed several days ago. Maybe it was related to all of that?

Ominis frowns at your sudden silence, his lips pressed firmly into a thin line, inwardly panicking within his poor head despite his calm demeanor.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have said it…? No, no. I think it’s better if she knows. Oh no, how in Merlin's name do I deal with this?” 

He was still inexperienced when it came to the unfamiliar process of soothing another person's nerves— he only had to fend off for himself for the majority of his life, after all. But what kind of a lover would he be if he made no attempts in easing your worries away? He had to try at least.

“Darling, scoot over for me, will you?”

Albeit the mild shame brought upon your bouts of self-blame, you did just as he requested, shifting towards the far end of the sofa. Your blonde-haired lover smiled ever so slightly, plopping his head right atop your plush thighs the moment you obliged his request. Your eyes, initially wide open at his sudden actions, softened at the ticklish sensation of his fingertips against your cheek.

“My dearest?” he calls out in the gentlest of tones, a bright, rosy hue peeking through your skin as his palm grazes against your face. The iciness that ran through your veins was immediately thawed, followed by a blissful sigh escaping your lips as he stroked his thumb across your cheek.

“Yes, my love?”

“I may be blind, but I can tell that a frown is not a good look on you,”

The corners of your mouth twitched upwards slightly at the statement, resisting the urge to burst unbecomingly into a fit of giddy giggles. “Is this your way of cheering me up?” 

His opal eyes, ever so mesmerizing, lit up in joy and hopefulness at the hint of amusement in your mildly teasing tone. “Would you smile for me if I said yes?”

He chuckled at the slight shift of your cheek as you smiled, a laugh escaping your lips before planting an affectionate peck against his palm.

“You cheeky little rascal. Of course, I would.”

Sincerity was truly magical in its own right— easily capable of turning the most awkward of attempts into the most romantic gesture you had ever come across in your life (or perhaps it was merely just a part of Ominis' overall charm).

It was yet another comfortable silence looming over the both of you, him steadily breathing with his eyes shut as you raked your fingers through his slicked-back hair. You were humming a soft little tune— a tender scenario oddly reminiscent of what he used to experience as a wee boy with his favorite aunt. 

His heart, worn by lethargy and disappointment towards the concept of emotional safety, was now throbbing almost painfully at the comfort of your presence. It was akin to being wrapped with a soft fluffy blanket, gently cradled with an unspoken promise of love and protection— one that he will never seek from another person except you. Only you.

But alas, he had to contain himself for now, much to his dismay. Since you have plans later that day with Garreth and Natsai, he intended to make the most of his remaining few hours with you. Inhaling a lungful of air, he quells the bubbling bashfulness and hesitance brewing in his gut. 

“Say, is it alright if I make a request?” 

A curious hum vibrated from your chest as your eyes gazed upon him. “What is it?”

“Could you… Read something to me? Anything you want. It's too quiet here…”

Butterflies bloomed within your chest at the innocent request, your poor self giggling quite helplessly out of pure adoration at his meeker-than-usual tone, much to his utter embarrassment. Despite his attempt in being indirect, you knew exactly what he meant.

How could you ever refuse him?

A slight jostle was heard from the nearby bookshelf, eradicating the bashfulness from his system. A specific book pulled itself off the shelves before hovering to your outstretched hand. It was rather plain and unassuming in appearance, but beyond its leather-bound cover lies the most intricate of illustrations on every page that depicts a tale of adventure. It was the copy of the very book that you had often pestered your father to read to you as a little girl— a moment of bonding that you had with him whenever he was at home. 

He was quite the unusual man— seemingly square but was the kindest of souls especially towards children and magical beasts. He had the uncanny ability to tell even the most complex of flowery-worded tales in a manner that was easily understood by a mere child— an evident display of his wit, creativity, and sense of wonder. Had you requested another to read it instead, you would've fallen asleep due to your inability to perceive its true meaning.

This time around, however, it was rather nerve-wracking, for the reenactment of a fond memory was a gesture of great intimacy, especially to a non-relative. You were no storyteller for sure, and you could only hope that you'd do these literary pieces some form of justice when reading them out loud to Ominis himself.

“I hope that the genre of adventure is to your taste?” you asked him. With his nod as a go-signal, you flipped its fairly old pages open to one of the compiled stories within.

The guardian of this world was no writer, orator, or artist— they were a weaver: one who uses strings as their medium to depict all stories within the fabric of existence. One could assume that the guardian was a deity or a mere concept; a being or a non-being— the origin of all the principles; the organizer of chaos; the anchor that grounds this realm into coherence— to make it comprehensible by lesser minds. Each living being was a thread, signifying a lifespan and purpose. Within the plethora of such strands were those that gleamed of silver— beings who were capable of magic; and amongst threads of silver lay fibers of gold— a select few who were bestowed with the ability to wield the magic of yore, sworn to duty of serving all that walks upon the earth. Amongst the threads of glimmering gold that sparingly decorated the vast textile, there was one that shone brighter than the others: a young lady who had the kindest of hearts and the loftiest of dreams— to rid the world of all pain and suffering. Alas, despite the purity of her intentions, this will soon be branded as an act of defiance against the laws of this world.  For there is no light without shadow, as there is no shadow without light— simply because one is capable of dispelling the darkness does not mean that one should.  Extraction upon extraction, accumulation upon accumulation, her once brilliant thread soon loses its luster, gold turning into murky crimson— much like the pain that she had collected in enacting her arduous lifelong mission. Akin to ink that had been carelessly dropped upon fabric, the blight brought upon the world by her folly starts as a single dot atop the intricate embroidery, soon to be unleashed the longer it remains.  Alas, the nameless artisan couldn’t abandon their eternal life’s purpose regarding this matter, for they had to keep weaving the threads of fate. If they were to stop, time would cease to move— a fatal transgression to the principles of this realm. But despite the shackles that ensnares them to their stern duties, they were a being of just and mercy; brimming with love for all that breathes— a silent overseer that gazes their gentle eyes upon the world.  “For this was the doing of magical folk, it shall therefore be fixed by magical folk.” With a single strand of hair from their head, deft hands began to stitch a living creature within their magnum opus: an owl that embodies a fragment of their wisdom and foresight— a catalyst of transcendence from the blight that threatened to seep through the remaining strings of gold. Once fully embroidered into existence, its large amber eyes look expectantly at its creator, awaiting their orders. “I have granted you a part of my wisdom, for you are created from a thread that is nearest to the origin of my knowledge. So go forth and fulfill your purpose— seek the noble souls who shall undertake this task.” Thus, with its newfound purpose, the owl took flight, traveling through the vastness of the fabric in search of those who shall purge its filth. 

BOOM!

Ominis shot right up while you screamed out of sheer fright, clutching your book tightly as the room violently trembled while the various trinkets in the room rattled audibly due to the sudden impact from above. As the tremors in the room allayed, you quickly handed the book to Ominis, hurriedly scampering to the entrance to take a peek at what had happened.

Long story short, the argument between Skylar and Sebastian took a turn for the worse.

“Sky, please—!”

“Don't you dare touch me, Sallow!” Skylar scowled, glaring hatefully at the brunette who had a panicked expression on his features.

“But that's… That's not what I meant! I didn't mean it!” 

The Hufflepuff shot Sebastian the most hateful glower that they could muster before stomping off to the exit of the Undercroft, a panic-stricken Sebastian tailing after them in a feeble attempt of reversing the damage of their words. You winced as the metal door slammed shut, prompting you to open the lid of the chest fully. You curiously scanned the large space for any signs of damage, only to be gobsmacked by the sight of the entire wall behind the chest covered in soot— as if a massive fireball had been purposely shot onto the vacant space, or rather, missed its target.

“Is everything alright?” Ominis calls from below the room. Upon exiting the enchanted space, he sniffs the air, lips curling into a frown at the strong smell of smoke and burnt wood.

“Well, the Undercroft is still intact, I suppose…?”

Ominis sighed exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose out of pure disdain towards Sebastian and Skylar's antics. 

“Oh for the love of Merlin…”

The last of their classes today is finally over, and Skylar Evans immediately rushes out of the premises, hell-bent on dodging the presence of a certain Slytherin male who goes by the name of Sebastian Sallow. There was a saying that those who possessed the brightest of smiles had the cruelest of rage, and that statement bodes true for the famed new 5th year, who nearly burnt their classmate into a charred crisp for his insensitive, tactless tongue.

It was the first time that poor Skylar had ever felt so enraged towards a person before, and anger itself was the very emotion they despised, for it often resulted in a splitting headache soon after it all fades. Sebastian had made yet another fatal mistake due to his lack of control over his emotions— one that could both cost him a precious bond and a chance of ever finding a cure for his sister's malady. 

Truth be told, the cause of his outburst wasn't even that rage-inducing. Skylar had merely tried to voice their worries regarding Sebastian's lack of sleep no thanks to his unhealthy hyper-fixation on a certain spellbook, only to be given a scathing, out-of-pocket insult from the vexed brunette.

“You want the truth so badly? Fine! You're all talk, barely any action! You're frolicking out there in the bloody Scottish Highlands, and I'm deciphering this bloody book ALONE. Must be nice to have your life all carefree, yeah?! Bloody hell, you're so fucking annoying!”

Skylar knew it was just the copious amounts of desperation and stress permeating within his system that resulted in his rude outburst, but their heart could only take so much before it finally reached its absolute limit.

“Stupid Sebastian… Stupid magic… Stupid curse…” they sniffed, angrily swiping the lone tear that cascaded down their cold-flushed cheek as they moped in silence. This gut-wrenching instance revived the homesickness that they had desperately repressed this entire time— to go back to London and live a problem-free life as a wee Muggle once again, for ignorance was bliss (and Sebastian Sallow wasn't).

They couldn't help it initially— the smooth, treacled flattery that spilled from his pretty pink lips was much easier to believe than the cold hard truth. But now that all were nearly in utter shambles as wrongdoings piled themselves atop one another, it was time to acknowledge the fact that Skylar's hospitality had gone too far— a good-natured trait turned psychological leash in the hands of a conniving little mastermind.

Oh, if only there were someone more sensible and less volatile around that could aid Skylar in their quest. Perhaps that would knock Sebastian's towering ego down to a more bearable height. Matters aside, the ancient magic wielder truly needed a break from it all, and much to their luck, Natsai had invited them over for drinks at The Three Broomsticks on this particular afternoon at the very last minute.

The walking trip to Hogsmeade felt a whole lot faster thanks to their preoccupied mind, their feet leading them to their destination without much thought. Emotionally exhausted eyes glanced at the wooden signage of the pub before pushing the doors open, their eyes meeting the positively jam-packed establishment filled with both students and locals indulging in their merriment and chatter while a pleasant tune sounded within the building’s wooden walls. 

Amongst the crowd of students were you, Garreth, and Natsai, each drinking your respective fills of well-deserved butterbeer and occasionally munching on peanuts after a rather eventful day. The female Gryffindor immediately spots Skylar, soon beckoning them to come over while a tankard with its signature foamy top carefully floats towards the table from the bar.

“Glad you could make it!” the ebony-haired Gryffindor beamed.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Skylar finally managed to smile as they planted themselves on the chair beside Natsai. The floating cup of butterbeer placed itself right in front of Skylar, which they gladly sipped while you and Garreth were in the middle of your usual banter.

“You know, I'm quite surprised that you didn't bring Ominis along. Which reminds me…” Garreth trails off, a grin slowly forming itself on his smug expression while you narrowed your eyes in suspicion.

Oh no.

“Is there something you aren't telling us? Because I've been seeing you two everywhere together lately.” 

His words immediately resulted in a half-hearted glare from your mildly blushing self as you tried to grip the remnants of your composure.

“That's quite the assumption, Garreth. We are just classmates, you know? Classmates,” you gasped, feigning your cluelessness while the bitter taste of denial and lies lingered on your tongue.

“Aww c'mon! You can't expect me to believe that!”

You snickered at his response. “Then why'd you ask in the first place?!” 

“Because there's clearly something going on and you're obviously hiding it,” Natsai joins in, much to your chagrin upon hearing the red-haired male’s triumphant chortle. 

“Why do I have a feeling I'm not going to be able to hide this for long?” you internally groaned, your nervousness skillfully concealed behind a veil of lightheartedness. Truthfully, there was a burning urge within you that wanted to just scream out at the top of your lungs that you were, in fact, proudly in a relationship with Ominis Gaunt. Alas, you had an oath of secrecy to uphold.

“Oh, stop it, both of you. I can assure you that it's all academic-related,” you tutted. “You've seen how the workloads are. Even Garlick’s been pretty merciless lately with her assignments too. He just needed some extra help.”

Natsai smirks before drinking from her cup, obviously not buying your bluff. 

“Extra help, eh? Seems a little too extra in my opinion,” the male Gryffindor snorted, warranting a slap on his arm followed by a vicious battle of flicking peanut shells towards each other.

The remainder of the day was the most fun that Skylar had ever had so far. It was a breath of fresh air— harmless tomfoolery, discussing nothing but the simplest of topics, and recalling the never-ending mischief amongst students in Hogwarts for the past few years. From drinking butterbeer to buying all sorts of sweets from Honeydukes right after, this seemingly mundane and impromptu trip was exactly what Skylar needed. No mentions of ancient magic, a cure for an unknown curse, trials, or enemies— just the silly little struggles of students whose greatest woe was regarding how they'll make their written essays longer to fit the required minimum length.  

It was unfortunate that time had passed by so quickly whenever fun was involved, and upon leaving the last of the shops that the four of you had opted to visit, the sun had already plunged back into the distant horizon, the sky no longer its usual shade of blue. 

Amid boisterous guffaws and jokes on the way back, Skylar mustered a smile regardless of their evident sorrow that this small little hangout was nearly over, which didn't go unnoticed by your wandering, observant eyes. Upon nudging Skylar lightly, you uttered the very words that officially grant them a special place of their own within your circle of friends.

“You should join us again next time.”

And with just that simple invitation, Skylar's unpleasant thoughts fade into obscurity, replaced with a sense of true belonging— that they'd have a place to go to regardless of their feats, contributions, or even after their mission reaches its eventual completion. 

But alas, there was still a long road up ahead, for this unfinished story was far from reaching its desired ending.

The cold evening air was commonly accompanied by the soft howling of distant winds along with the faintest crackles of ice, yet this particular ambiance felt strangely rebarbative. It was too quiet— the air was dense and still, devoid of any sounds apart from crunchy footsteps on snow. A foul sense of dread was prickling your skin from within as the four of you traversed down the unassuming, dimly lit path.

Skylar seemed to bear the same sentiments as you did, deftly reaching for their wand concealed beneath their coat while you promptly did the same. Unblinking eyes scoured the surroundings for anything suspicious while Garreth and Natsai remained unaware, still trudging along the path that leads back to the castle with you and Skylar tailing after them cautiously.

And then you saw it— a silhouette of a cloaked figure lurking amongst the shadowy, frost-withered trees, slowly pointing their wand in your direction. Much to their momentary misfortune, your reflexes were far quicker.

A turquoise-colored flare erupted from the tip of your wand, hitting them right on the chest and flinging them back. Garreth and Natsai's eyes widened in mortification as they heard the strike of the spell, whipping out their wands immediately. The unknown person, now laying face down, desperately tried to fight against the Impediment Jinx's effects by wriggling himself around. Several red bolts of light shot from the same location where they once stood, followed by an all-familiar spark of green that made your heart panickedly hammer itself within your ribcage as Garreth managed to narrowly dodge the fatal attack.

The Killing Curse.

“RUN!” 

All of you immediately broke into a sprint, only to be halted in your tracks shortly after as multiple jets of black smoke swarmed towards your retreating figures. The grip on your wand tightened as the surroundings became screened with swirls of a densely dark fog, men dressed in tattered black robes and weathered silver masks covering the upper half of their visage emerging from the shadowy swirls. Skylar grits their teeth in defiance, firing a jet of red towards one of them while the rest of you follow suit to aid them in the fight.

The ferocious exchange of spells illuminated the dimly lit surroundings with flares of various colors, accompanied by the sound of blitzes, the shattering of magical shields, and explosive blasts. Your heart pounded rapidly, deflecting and dodging an onslaught of fatal curses and pesky jinxes, strategically flinging various spell combinations to their defeat. Your foes fell one by one until all were either incapacitated or gasping for air at their fatal injuries. The escape promptly resumes, the sound of footsteps rapidly thumping against the earth as the four of you bolted for your dear lives. 

But alas, villains always had a plethora of the dirtiest tricks up their sleeve, only to be revealed at the very last minute to instill absolute terror within the heart of their prey.

Skylar quickly grabs Natsai, preparing themselves to apparate away while you reached out to Garreth's outstretched hand, only for the same puff of black smoke to push you away from him. Your grip around your wand loosened as soon as a strong hand encased itself around your neck, your only weapon falling onto the ground before the stranger apparates you away. 

Upon materializing out of thin air, you were then slammed against the tree with a pained gurgle escaping your dry, chapped lips. 

The man was clearly one of the dark wizards you had encountered earlier, dressed in the same black cloak and a silver half-mask. You could only watch in fear as his towering figure looms above you, his stare devoid of any mercy, yet adorned with a glint of pure malice. A sharp sting penetrated your head, an intrusive force beginning to plow its way through your mind, destroying every built-in defensive mechanism to rummage through every nook and cranny in desperate search of a specifically vital knowledge within the archive of your memories.

The House of Robard. 

The murder of your loved ones. 

The wall in the Undercroft.

He wickedly flashed his prominent canines upon finding the information he needed, a deep, predatory chuckle rumbling from his muscular chest.

“Found you.”

Color visibly drained from your complexion at the sound of the all too familiar gravelly voice from your deepest nightmares, fear began to rapidly suffuse itself into every fiber of your being, your dainty, delicate hands feebly trying to pry his hand away from your neck.

It was him. The man from 6 years ago— the cold-blooded murderer of your late uncle and brother.

The moon enshrouded itself behind a protective layer of clouds, almost as if it did not wish to bear witness to the direst cruelty that would soon befall you once more. The meek whimpers that escaped your lips fueled his bloodthirst as he traced the tip of his wand along your jawline before digging it into your temple. With an eerily serene smile, his lips parted to mutter the incantation of the spell that caused your brain to blank out of inevitable despair. 

“Crucio.”

Your high-pitched cries of sheer agony pierced the stillness of the night as the curse was brutally cast directly into your head, your body thrashing and flailing in a futile attempt to escape. The pain was beyond anything you’ve ever experienced in your entire life— your skull was being split open in the slowest and most agonizing way possible all while getting viscerally twisted and torn apart from within. His piercing gaze was still ransacking your memories in the midst of it all, hot tears uncontrollably running down your face as waves upon waves of torture brutally surged within your mind.

Alas, it was all for naught. 

It was still the same set of memories without a single trace of any changes despite jolting you with nothing but pain— the most savage of means to remove any possible Memory Charm that had been cast upon you prior to this encounter. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, reluctantly releasing you from the Cruciatus Curse, your limp body falling onto the snow-covered ground with red crackles occasionally sparking from your temples. 

This mission was like his prior attempts: another failure.

It was ultimately all his doing— the fabled silver-tongued traitor of his family tree who connived with the enemy centuries ago. Even in death, the betrayer himself had managed to outwit his descendants again and again, and it was no different this time around. The tall male could only scoff disdainfully, his monologue sounding incoherent as your brain struggles to fathom all that is within your surroundings. Your vision was blurred, consciousness on the brink of fading into black out of sheer exhaustion. 

The shouts of your name were soon heard from a distance, a familiar wooden stick with a trail of gold dust meandering its way towards your incapacitated form, tucking itself snugly back into your hand. Before your valiant rescuers could reach you, the cloaked male spares you one final glance, his fragmented parting words blending into the howling winter winds as he dissipates into the shadowy hours of the night.

“...remember… knowledge… power… ours…”

From cities to hamlets, nature to settlements, the owl searched tirelessly for the worthy. Alas, many days passed, but all was futile. It was akin to finding a needle in a haystack, much to the poor bird’s despair. The owl hooted sadly at its predicament, hopping alongside a small stream: whether it was for the sake of collating its thoughts or if it merely wanted food or drink, it wandered with no clear destination in mind, following the trail of running water instead. It soon came across a lone human male who sat atop a large rock, nibbling on a piece of bread as he seemingly gazed into the far horizon.  The owl blinks in curiosity, pausing its activities to quietly observe the human before it. This man was rather unusual compared to the others, for he possessed an ethereal appearance: he had slicked-back blonde hair, smooth porcelain skin decorated sparingly with little moles, gaunt-like features, a lithe frame, and enchanting yet sightless opal eyes.  The little owl, ever astute and highly perceptive, noticed a sorrowful human emotion beyond the veil of his mortal beauty— loneliness. Its gentle hoots snap the male out of his reverie, his mouth hanging slightly ajar at the sudden sound of ruffling feathers beside him. The little owl rubbed itself affectionately against his arm, rousing a soft chuckle from his thin lips.  “Why, hello there, little one. It's rather unusual of you to be out and about at this hour,” he hums, running his slender fingers through its fluffy plumage. It hoots back enthusiastically to his words, much to his joy.  “Do you have an owner? A family?” the asks further, only for the owl to adorably tilts its head before hopping onto the male's lap. A grin graces his face, giving the owl a much-appreciated scritch. “Very well, you shall be my companion from now on. Now for a name…” he trails off, closing his eyes shut and feeling the sun kiss his skin as he ponders. Moments later, he casts his unseeing gaze to the unknown distance with a smile on his face. “I have been told that the sky looks ‘reddish’ around this time of day. Henceforth, you shall be known as Russ— in honor of the time that we both met.” At long last, Russ the Owl meets one of the few worthy mortals of this quest: a man that embodies both light and dark; compassion and cunning; a hero and a traitor— The Author.

< chapter 13: a hideout within a hideout 🔞

chapter 15: tba... >

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[clan-of-thorns]

ThornClan - Moon 24

last moon of year 2 :3

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like i said up top, this is the last moon of ThornClan's second year! I was not really paying attention to how much time had passed so oops, my bad.

all in all this was a pretty good moon. I find weedstem being jealous weirdly funny for some reason, especially bcs flare is just like ???

the next couple of posts will be moon 25, with the updated allegiances and a new pinned post coming soon after. the weird order is gonna make sense soon promise 🙏

[redux-iterum]

CL allegiances when? <3

April of next year! We're about halfway through writing CL at the present moment, and we should be nearly done by April (if not completed, if I turn into a maniac and just power through), which is when we start the story publicly. Until then, the book club continues (we're reading the first arc of Wings of Fire, for those who didn't know) through December and for the next four months. Regular updates and previews are available on Patreon, if you've got the money and want to be generous! Come February, the highest tier will start getting chapters, with the lowest tier getting them in March. Just as a heads-up, if you want to wait a bit.

In the interest of transparency, I'm aware the beginning of CL is a long ways away, and that may seem weird for a fanfic. The thing is that this book is twice as long as BH (about 60 chapters!) and Lynx and I need the time to write, edit, beta, fill up the buffer, and plan for the book after that. The running plan for the future is to have a pause for a few months after every book so we can get all that done and still post regularly for the public. I want to avoid skipping or putting things on hiatus as much as possible and keep a steady update schedule.