#victor who told us time and time again that he believes sharing what he knows will get everyone killed?

[divorcingjimmatthews]

every time i get notifications on this post it's someone calling the show bad writing because "there would be no story if the characters just talked to each other" and i want to respectfully disagree. i believe the show goes to great lengths to explain why the characters don't always share all that they know with each other. so much character conflict in the show is literally about this. it would not make any sense for boyd to share all that he knows with jade of all people

boyd has military training and it is well established that he treats the town residents as civilians to protect while only sharing important information with his trusted circle (khatri, kenny, kristi), with sara when necessary and with donna. not only is this in line with him being a military officer but is also reinforced by what he has experienced so far in the town, given that everyone was completely helpless until he arrived and found the talismans. also, it is well established that acting on said information can bring terrible consequences and boyd knows this better than anyone. of course he is careful with what he shares

what i am getting at is that jade will have to earn boyd's trust if he wants to be told about the worms and the lighthouse and the dead monster and the spider and the boy in white and everything else. which makes perfect sense! i'm sure boyd is already surprised to see jade acting so normal given how hard he clowned when they first met. i am looking forward to see how their dynamic continues to develop ‼️

[schrijverr]

It Just Hits Different When It’s Batman

5 times a League member heard Batman use slang + 1 time they knew where the fuck he got it from.

This fic is based off this post by @wednesday-if-it-was-tuesday bc it was just too good! Hope you don't mind :D

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~~

1. Flash

Barry is pretty sure he has to get his hearing checked as he speeds through a city, trying to find a series of bombs, courtesy of a new alliance of villains. He and Batman are on bomb duty, thus sharing a private com line as to not distract the others or be distracted as they coordinate.

However, Barry is very much distracted by his own partner in this whole mess, because unless he’s gotten a few too many hits to the head in recent years, he’s pretty sure Batman just reported: “The bombs look like yassified thermos flasks.”

“What?” Barry chokes, nearly tripping over his own feet as he does.

Batman doesn’t seem to notice, instead explaining the bomb, not his wording: “The casing looks to be made from plastic, likely to escape Superman’s notice. Start checking water pipes, I found this one near a toilet. I’ll report again once I figure out how to disarm it.”

Okay, questing his sanity later, finding bombs, now.

So he zooms off again, having to agree with the fact that the bomb does look like a yassified thermos flask. He wonders if he can use that in his report or if Batman will scold him for language. He has worked with the man for long enough that he knows Batman isn’t above hypocrisy.

Then he wonders again if he even heard it right. In the heat of battle, the brain sometimes does weird things, especially when someone thinks at the speed of light. Or faster.

He’ll put it out of his mind for now, maybe tell Hal about it just so he’ll have someone to share the bizarre experience with.

Clark probably has a thesaurus, he should probably also find a synonym for yassified. Does a thesaurus have slang too?

2. Green Lantern

It’s true that Barry had told him about Spooky saying yassified in that one battle, but Hal hadn’t truly believed that Bats was capable of something like that. I mean, look at him. The guy might be a weirdo who dresses up as a Bat, but he’s not a weirdo who says shit like yassified.

However, at the moment it is starting to look more and more likely. Fuck, Barry is gonna give him so much crap for not believing him.

The moment in question is Batman working with him on the stealth mission. It’s one for the Green Lantern Corps, so Batman is doing him a favor. Though Hal is starting to wish that he hadn’t done him that favor, because Batman has just said: “It looks like Luthor is being thristy for Superman again. For someone who hates the guy, he sure wants his attention a lot. That’s Kryptonian honing device.”

Hal doesn’t react, still thinking about the fact that he’s just heard Luthor, thirsty and Superman in one sentence. In Batman’s voice no less.

“What?” he says.

“A Kryptonian honing device,” Batman repeats, sounding as if he thinks Hal is stupid, not uncommon. “So he can hone in on Superman, find him. Something we need to do something about.”

Hal decides to take the smart way out and lets the whole thing drop in favor of focusing on the mission. He’s not just telling Barry, but Ollie about this as well.

3. Cyborg

Being in the Justice League isn’t much different than being on the Teen Titans. Like right now, being in a building that could explode at any moment unless he hacks into the system and stops that from happening.

Ah, good old life-threatening pressure.

Batman is fighting some of the goons in the background. They’re on their own here, with the others fighting through an army outside to get to them. But it’s mostly up to them. Batman yells: “Cyborg, status.”

“I’m getting through, but something is bugging me about this whole thing,” Victor calls back. “I think there is someone I’m missing that will allow me to crack this.”

There are a few grunts in the background as Batman fights on, while Victor starts to scan through everyone who worked for the organization, trying to find the missing link.

He is interrupted by Batman, who says: “I took a tour here once. There was an intern, Kyle Paulson, he was kind of sus. Look him up.”

For a second, Victor is thrown by the sus in that sentence, but he quickly focuses back on what’s important. Indeed finding Kyle to be the missing link that gets him to disarm the bomb. While Batman is taking out the last of the bad guys.

In fact, the whole thing slips his mind until he’s writing his mission report, going through the footage to get accurate information in there. Then he pauses again, before dismissing it. Those who trained under Batman are always prepared, maybe it’s not slang but shorthand to be useful in the moment. Or he’s trying to include him, sweet, though unnecessary.

Victor puts it out of his mind.

4. Green Arrow

Ollie doesn’t believe Barry or Hal for a second. Like, really? Batman using slang that the sidekicks are using?

Sure, Nightwing sometimes uses some here and there, but Red Robin is always very professional and Robin is closer to a Shakespearean actor than a TikTok teen. There isn’t anyone else he could have gotten it from and it doesn’t make sense with his whole ‘I am the Night’-persona.

Victor suggested it was to make the newbies more comfortable when he overheard them talking, but that’s even more ridiculous in Ollie’s opinion.

So, he’s not at all in the slightest prepared for Batman’s reaction when he shows him the new arrows he developed. Because Batman’s reaction is: “Hm, serves cunt.”

“Excuse me, what?” Ollie says, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull.

Batman just stares at him, then in a confused sort of voice goes: “You know, it slays? It’s, you know, good? Positive.”

“Huh, what? No, I- I know what that means. How the fuck do you know?” Ollie splutters.

“I’m Batman,” is all he says. Then he walks away and leaves Ollie to stand there, still frozen in time, because what the hell was that? Batman can’t just do that, can he? That’s illegal. How does he even know that?

What Ollie doesn’t know, is that this was a calculated move. Bruce had overheard the three talking as well and decided to have a little fun. All the times before, it just slipped out in the heat of battle, but this one was purposeful.

Bruce knows Ollie would know what it meant, because billionaires Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen have done TikTok trends in the past and try to keep up to date, despite their age. Not that Ollie knows it’s him under there.

And last gala, he left Bruce for the wolves – Vicky Vale – so now Bruce is dealing psychological damage to him as petty revenge.

5. Superman (and Practically the Entire League)

They’re in a meeting with most of the Justice League members that are present on earth at the moment. It’s not often they hold such meetings, since they are a little overwhelming and tend to drag on more than be productive.

However, Clark thinks it’s important to ensure there are avenues through which ever member can state their piece and be heard. So, here they are again.

Booster Gold is complaining about always being on the sidelines and never in the heat of the action, even though he’s a great hero. He’s claiming that there is a bias against younger heroes, despite the fact that the ‘old guard’ will have to give it up eventually.

Apparently, Batman has had enough, because he gets up and snaps: “We don’t have bias based on age, we have one based off skill. Maybe if you stopped abandoning your post and being someone reliable, you might get put out in the field more often. Now stop being salty about it.”

It’s silent.

Clark is scrambling his brain, to figure out the meaning. As a journalist he tries to stay up to date on current language use, however, the only person he’s heard use that word is Jon. The boy never explained, but Clark guessed what it means. Doesn’t explain why Batman knows it.

Then the silence gets broken by a snort, everyone’s head whipping towards the source. It’s Nightwing, a newer addition and one affiliated with Batman himself. The only one there brave enough to laugh at Batman, mirthfully asking: “Did you actually say salty?”

There is no change on Batman’s face, but as a longtime friend, Clark knows he isn’t emotionless. Indeed, when he listens close, he can hear the blood rush to his face, blush hidden by the cowl.

“That was not the point of the sentence, Nightwing,” Batman counters, the name a little bit pointed on is tongue.

“Okay, okay,” Nightwing grins easily, showing his hands in surrender, an act which is made null by him adding: “Just pointing out that this is an official meeting. You’re on the record and you know I’m reporting this to the others.”

Red Robin and Robin, Clark fills in mentally, the other two known associates. Everyone already guessed that Nightwing must be close to them as well, since the younger two are closer to being Batman’s children. Now that is confirmed.

“Thank you for reminding me,” Batman says tersely, before quickly pivoting to the next point on the agenda. No one calls him out for it.

However, just because no one calls him out on it, doesn’t mean they drop it. In the weeks after the incident, whispers make their way through the halls of the Watchtower as people speculate why or how Batman came to use the word salty and how out of character it is.

Clark can hear the gossip all over the Watchtower and he’s sure Batman is aware of it too, because some brave souls have asked about. Especially when some of the others talked about the incident not being the first one.

Batman hasn’t replied yet to any of the questions or rumors. Clark thinks he likes the mystery and chaos, likes that they don’t know why the hell he sometimes lets slang slip. Even Nightwing has been seemingly silenced, never commenting with a sort of professional ease at evasion.

Nightwing is the only clue they have, along with Robin and Red Robin, but none of them seem like the culprit.

It just doesn’t make sense and Clark can’t help but have his reporter brain itch.

+1. The Batfamily

There is going to be an attack somewhere in a major city in America tonight. They cannot figure out where, so there is a nation wide stake out at all the important places. Nearly the entire Justice League has been pulled out for it and even then they don’t have enough.

Batman insists on having a skeleton crew remain on the Watchtower in case the threat turns out to be a distraction. And when it is protested, he pulls out an army of associates none of them have ever heard about to fill out the last gaps in their observational net.

The sudden introduction of about six new Gotham vigilantes, which have apparently been operating inside the city as well as outside of it, would have been the main shock if it weren’t for how they are on coms.

Red Robin and Nightwing are known as professionals like Batman, while Robin isn’t a known entity in missions, though those who have met him, know him to be serious. However, with the introduction of the others all of that professionalism melts away.

It starts about 45 minuted into their mission when Spoiler’s voice suddenly crackles over the coms: “I fucking hate stake outs, they’re so boring.”

“I know right, my ass is starting to hurt,” Red Robin – to everyone’s surprise – replies.

“No chatter on the coms,” Batman dutifully reproaches like he always does, but he sounds less stern this time. It’s as if he knows they won’t listen, but says it because it’s his role to do so.

Red Hood ignores Batman completely, idly commenting: “I don’t know, stake outs always hit different for me.”

“That’s just because you’re boring AF,” Spoiler says, an eyeroll practically audible.

“Oi, take that back,” Red Hood says, offended. “I didn’t die to have you slander my name like that!”

This is horrifying news for most of the other people stuck on the coms, however, there is a cacophony of annoyed groans as well. Why anyone would be so blasé about someone mentioning their death, they don’t know.

Until, Robin says: “Cease mentioning your death as excuse. It’s unbecoming to be so reliant on one measly event. You’re not the only one who has died, don’t be – what was it? – ah, yes, don’t be basic, Hood.”

“Yeah, Hood, don’t be salty just because you’re becoming a boring old man,” Red Robin pipes up, sounding smug. That solves the salty mystery.

“Shut up, Replacement,” Red Hood huffs. “I can talk about my death as much as I want to and you can’t stop me.”

“Hood, please, stop talking about your death, you’re going to make B sad,” Nightwing suddenly interjects, stopping the conversation before it can get out of hand.

Those with super hearing will hear Barry mutter in a shocked manner: “Is he talking about Batman?” But he is overshadowed by most of the newly introduced (and already) known Bat-associates booing loudly.

“Don’t be a fucking suck up, Dick” Spoiler hollers, only those in the know picking up on the fact it’s his name. It’s the only time Batman won’t correct them, because not everyone will know it’s a name unless it’s pointed out.

“Periodt,” the quiet voice of Black Bat supports Spoiler.

“Hell yeah, that’s what I’m talking about, BB,” Spoiler cheers when she hears the other girl.

“That was the correct usage?” Black Bat asks.

“It was, well done,” Oracle’s kind voice comes over the coms, from where she is in her lair helping with coordination.

After that it all quiets down again for about half an hour, then Bluebird breaks the quiet again, complaining: “I can’t believe I had to stay behind in Gotham of all places.”

“You live there. Willingly,” Signal answers. “And I had to stay behind too, you know.”

“They’re sleeping on us, Signal, be upset with me,” Bluebird exclaims, indignantly.

“Okay, but tea though,” Spoiler says, most of the Justice League listening in are starting to learn she likes stirring the pot a little.

“Don’t be a simp, Spoils,” Red Robin says.

“Oh, look who’s talking about being a simp,” Red Hood snorts loudly. “I observed you, loser boy, you’re the simp.”

“It’s not as much of the serve you think it is to admit to stalking me,” Red Robin deadpans.

“RR, not to be that bitch, but you’re the OG stalker, maybe- maybe don’t do that,” Nightwing says cautiously, which is apparently funny enough that multiple people start laughing.

Meanwhile Red Robin complains: “Stop laughing at me, when I did it was totally different, I didn’t plan on killing any of you.” Which is mildly disturbing

“Oi, I never planned to actually kill you-kill you either,” Red Hood protests, even more disturbing. The Justice League is starting to wonder why Batman works with the man.

“Stop with the chatter,” Batman interjects again, before it can go further. “It’s not just us on the com lines now. At least try to be professional.”

And much to the horror of the League, who could never imagine doing such a thing, Batman gets booed. Again. This time directly.

Then to add to the horror, Batman doesn’t explode in anger, like everyone would have imagined, instead he just sighs. Defeated. Batman is like a cockroach, he doesn’t get defeated. However, these kids are managing.

Batman remains defeated too, because the Gotham vigilantes continue to idly chat all throughout the next hour. They are definitely bat associated, because they never reveal any information that could be tied to their civilian identity. Instead discussing other missions, general news, funny things they saw on patrol and personal grievances with the others on the line.

If this is what Batman deals with on the day to day, some are starting to see why he would prefer the heroes of the Justice League to keep their mouths shut on missions unless it’s important.

Most try to tune it out and focus on their own stake out, though the voices keep them awake. But they notice when Spoiler’s voice suddenly becomes serious as she reports: “Sus individuals moving towards the Mayor’s office.”

“Received, getting visual on your location,” Oracle’s voice replies, also snapped back into professionalism.

Spoiler reports their appearances and currently location, until Oracle has them, running a check on them, before confirming they have a criminal record and might be thugs for hire. Spoiler says: “I am going to move in.”

Batman says: “Do not engage, Spoiler, they could be a decoy. Try and get more information first.”

“Alright, alright,” Spoiler huffs. Then adds petulantly: “I’m not gonna do it, I was just thinking about it.”

Which sounds pretty reasonable for most listening in, who aren’t of the right age group to know the meme. Batman, however, does know, because he’s been subjected to it multiple times. So, he yells: “Spoiler, no!” startling some members.

A second later, there are sounds of a fight and Spoiler gleefully saying: “I did it.”

Batman lets out a frustrated growl, but Spoiler pays it no mind and she can’t truly get chewed out, because more and more start to report suspicious individuals moving in on the targets they’re watching.

Within minutes of it starting, Nightwing reports: “They’re decoys with targets. Not the main attack, but will do damage if they succeed.”

“Everyone make sure to take out the decoys,” Batman says. “Those without decoys, keep your eyes peeled, you might be at the real target.”

“Done with my targets, moving to help the others now,” Nightwing reports seriously, before he adds: “And can I just say that I’m the GOAT. Dibs on cookies for finishing first.”

“Okay, shade much,” Bluebird says.

“Don’t be arrogant, it’s unbecoming,” Robin retorts as well.

“Yeah, stop flexing,” Spoiler adds. “I’ve wrapped up too, by the way. You’re not special.”

“Let me have this,” Nightwing complains. “You already took all my shit, let me be cool. You all used to think I was cool.”

“Yeah, used to,” Red Hood scoffs. “Then we all realized you’re a looser.”

“Ha, get wrecked,” Red Robin snorts.

“Baby bird, wasn’t I your favorite?” Nightwing asks hurt, though over the top enough to show he is faking it.

“No, sadly, that was Hood,” Red Robin replies, sounding a little like he’s grimacing.

“No cap?” Red Hood asks, surprised.

“No cap,” Red Robin confirms.

“Now I feel kind of bad for you,” Red Hood says, before some bullets are fired. “Wrapped up here, moving to help.”

Red Robin seems glad to not have to reply and none of the other Gothamites do either. With what the League has heard so far, they’re also kind of happy the topic is being dropped, unsure what to think.

Batman’s associates are among the first ones cleaning up, however, soon others are joining them and the true battles grounds – yes, there are multiple targets, these people are organized (Batman will likely obsess until he has tracked down their organization afterwards) – are discovered and heroes move in to fight them.

Throughout the battle, everyone catches snippets of this strange, newly introduced group. A group, who works well together, like an oiled machine, yet obviously made up of highly competent parts that can act on their own as well.

Like Black Bat calling out: “Red Hood, yeet,” before those fighting alongside them see Red Hood boost her into the air, so she can come flying at the terrorists.

But they also make comments about the people they’re fighting and the others that are fighting alongside them.

Signal calling out: “Bluebird is pulling some sick ass moves. Another one for her on the slay-board, Oracle.”

Or Spoiler commenting: “Okay, not to be like that or whatever, but these terrorists are kind of looking snatched.”

To which Batman sighs: “Spoiler, please, no chatter,” in a vain attempt to get them under control.

“What?” Spoiler says. “I can appreciate when they’ve at least tried to pull a fit instead of that usual para-military, ninja type BS.”

“Go off,” Black Bat pipes up again and Spoiler cheers while Batman drops it. Defeated again.

They also check in on each other, with Red Robin hissing in pain, which is immediately followed by Nightwing going: “RR, you good, fam?”

“Gucci,” Red Robin replies. “Just low-key got stabbed.”

“There’s nothing low-key about getting stabbed!” Nightwing exclaims, getting called a hypocrite by many people, while Batman is already calling for Oracle to get a visual and for a medic to head Red Robin’s way.

By the time the battle is over, the Justice League understands how different the team is that Batman usually works with. If they were surrounded by heroes who talked like that continuously, they would have probably picked up some things here and there too.

Still, it fucking weird when Batman checks over his horde, before declaring: “You were all lit out there,” causing multiple of the kids around him to groan loudly, with Bluebird calling Batman a boomer.

Clark, however, sees a small uptick in Batman’s mouth. And in that moment, he knows Batman is doing it on purpose, that he’s enjoying it. That he’s fucking with them. He doesn’t know what to do with that, nor does he think that anyone will believe it. So, he decides to share the amusement and drop it.

They’re never going to figure out Batman.

~~

A/N:

This work is going to get dated so so so fast lmao, but it’s fun rn (if ur commenting in the future, welcome to outdated slang vibes from someone who wasn’t that up to date with current slang when writing it, bc im secretly a grandpa).

Hopefully I didn’t overdo it to an unrealistic degree, but if I did, such is the story that was being told oops

Also this whole fic is just an excuse for me to write batfam banter bc I love it lmao

I didn’t include Batwing, Batwoman and Flamebird here, sorry, but writing the batfam is always so hard bc there are so many characters T-T

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Blind Love Epilogue

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

nsfw, minors dni

A season had passed since I decided to continue being Roger’s exclusive Fairytale Keeper.

Kate: Lately, Roger’s been acting strange.

Victor: Roger’s always acting strange, so that's normal!

William: Yes, since he’s also Crown, he’s an eccentric who wears a mask of decency. Completely normal

While I told the two about my worries during a tea party, they just smiled gracefully as they sipped from their teacups.

When I raised my shoulders, William chuckled.

William: Heh, sorry. Victor and I are happy that we get to spend some time with you. 

Victor: Yes, since you’re always with Roger. This time we have is valuable, and we’re enjoying it.

Kate: Thank you, William, Victor. I’m enjoying my time with you two as well.

Victor: So…What do you mean by “strange”?

Kate: Roger’s always been very into his research, but recently, he’s been a little too into it…

~~ Flashback ~~

Kate: Roger, it’s almost midnight. Are you not heading to bed soon?

Roger: Hmm, nah. I’m fine, you go on ahead. Good night, Kate.

--

Kate: Roger, why not take a break since you’ve been working all day? How about some good beer…

Roger: I’m on a roll right now. Save me a beer.

~~ End flashback ~~

Kate: …Stuff like that.

Victor: It definitely is strange for him to refuse his favorite beer!

Kate: Right?!

After he and Victor exchanged glances and nodded at each other, William’s smile widened.

William: You’re feeling discontent that your lover’s paying more attention to his research than you, aren’t you? You’re so adorable.

Kate: That’s! That’s right… While I do want his attention, I’m more concerned about his health since he hasn’t taken a break…

Roger’s lifespan’s already been cut short because of his research.

That’s why I want him to live longer, even if it’s just for a second.

I want us to live together for as long as possible.

Victor: Kate’s right, he shouldn’t be reckless. However, sometimes working hard’s what makes you feel alive and brightens life up. From my perspective, Roger appears livelier than ever. Moreover…The reason why Roger’s been so into his research—I believe it’s to do with his relationship with you.

Kate: With me…?

Victor: I definitely don’t know for sure. That’s something you’ll have to ask Roger.

(...Victor and WIlliam are right)

Roger and I had gone through a lot before we became lovers, and we’re here now because we’d talk to each other every time.

Kate: Thank you, Victor, William. I’ll go ask Roger.

--

After Kate scampered out of the room like a dog, William narrowed his eyes.

William: You’re as good of a liar as ever. You know what Roger’s been “doing”.

Victor: I do. Despite being human, that man is likely trying to step into the domain of the gods.

William: You got them to stay together, expecting some sort of unpredictable reaction. Was this the outcome you expected?

Victor: It was more freeing and groundbreaking that I expected—I find it amusing.

William: …You really are evil.

--

(—I made up my mind to talk to Roger)

If I approached it the same way as usual, he’d turn me away again. 

Jude: Move, you’re in my way.

Kate: Ah, Jude. Good timing. I have a question.

Jude: Do ya have selective hearing for stuff that’s inconvenient?

Kate: How do you talk to someone about something when they’re always finding ways to avoid it?

Jude: *sigh* Gotta take their freedom and interrogate. Ya can also restrain ‘em, threaten ‘em, or use sleeping pills to cloud their judgment. 

Kate: I’d rather not do something extreme, but I’d probably get turned away again if I don’t. I think Alfons has some sleeping pills that are safe to use. Thanks Jude!

Jude: …O_O The hell is she doin’ that to.

--

Alfons shared some sleeping pills.

That night, I dropped them into water and gave it to Roger after his bath.

—But when he drank the water, he frowned…

Roger: This water tastes funny…It tastes like…sleeping pills.

Kate: What?!

Roger: Yep. I know what most drugs smell and taste like. Should’ve put them in something with a stronger taste if you wanted to trick me.

Kate: Then why did you drink it all…?

Roger: Thought it’d be fun to play along.

Roger smirked and looked at me leisurely.

Roger: Suppose I got about 30 minutes before I conk out. Better tell me what you’re up to now.

(...Since he’s already seen through me, I’ll have to tell him everything)

I first told him about how I tried to trap him so that we could talk properly.

Kate: I’m really sorry for trying something as stupid as that sneak attack…!

Roger: …Pfft, heh…

Kate: …Roger?

Roger: Nothing. Just didn’t expect you to use sleeping pills. You’re turning more into my type.

The way he happily ruffled my hair made any feelings of regret disappear.

(Roger really is a strange person…I also love that about him)

Roger: So, were you thinking I was doing some other research on top of my curse research?

Kate: Yes. What exactly is making you work so hard?

Roger: The ends of chromosomes have this structure. I believe they play an important part in chromosome integrity. The shortening of those structures might a cause of aging—

Kate: Um, Roger!

Roger: Hm?

Kate: …Can you simplify that for me?

Roger gave a knowing smirk and spoke again.

Roger: Research on extending lifespans.

(——Huh)

That’s not what I had expected and my thoughts came to a halt. However,

Kate: Extending lifespans. That…

Roger: I’m aware that what I’m researching is unethical. I’m not trying to be a god. It’s evil to speculate on and take human life under the guise of God. Humans can’t become gods. And I got no intention of creating a monster like immortality. But I can still get as close to being a god as possible and use that power properly and effectively. In short, I wanna fight back so that I can live for even just a second longer.

Kate: …Roger.

Roger: If you disagree with it, then—

Kate: I don’t. If I’m not mistaken…is it possible you’re doing this research… To live with me for even a second longer? 

Roger just smiled.

That smile alone was enough to explain everything.

Roger: I’ve already given you everything I have.

The deed to his land, property and assets, a lab coat…Roger had left me a lot of things.

Roger: But that’s no reason to give up on wanting to live a little longer. Never imagined I’d try to do something as stupid as getting close to being a god. It’s all because I fell for you, Kate.

Kate: …

What Roger was trying to do was self-centered and probably disgraceful.

But even if everyone criticized him, I’d rejoice in it.

I really am starting to become like Roger.

Kate: …You really are absurd. But…thank you, I love you.

Roger: I know. Ah…Damn it…I’m gonna pass out.

Roger removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

Roger: Haven’t slept much lately so this drug’s working fast.

His large frame flopped onto the bed like a puppet with its strings cut.

While holding me in his arms.

Kate: Roger?

Roger: …Gonna make love to you…the moment I wake up. So…stay with me…’til... I...wake…up…

After saying that, his breathing started to even out.

Kate: …If you say stuff like that…then I can’t let you go.

Lying in Roger’s arms, I listened to his heartbeat.

The thumping reminded me of  a small animal, and my chest tightened.

(...Even if it’s only for a second longer, I want to be with you forever) 

I ended up falling asleep in his arms and had a dream.

It was a dream about Roger and I living together forever.

We lived forever while fighting against despair—sometimes getting hurt, other times laughing together.

But I knew this was a dream, and that reality wouldn’t be as sweet or kind.

We haven’t found a way to get rid of curses or extend lifespans…

Such a future might not be possible.

But that doesn’t mean we have to give up.

Fighting against despair is what kept us alive.

--

A soft light shined on my eyes and I awoke from my slumber.

Kate: …Mnn…

Roger: …Ah, you’re finally awake. Morning, Kate. Well, I guess your body woke up first.

Kate: Huh? Ah…!

My nightgown was bunched up and Roger’s fingers were buried between my legs.

Even though I just woke up, I already felt so hot, achey, and wet…

Roger licked his fingers and then spread my legs—

Kate: Ahhh—

He lined himself up with my entrance before thrusting in.

Roger: Haaa…I got turned on but how cute you looked while sleeping…

He looked at me as he continued to thrust in and out.

Roger: So, what’d you dream about?

Kate: Nn, ahh… …It was…about your…dreams.

Roger: …O_O

He brought my hand to his chest.

(Ah…)

I could feel Roger’s heart beating a little faster than before.

Roger: I’m in good health. At this rate, I’m not gonna die even if I’m killed.

Kate: Hehe, then I’ll give you more things for your heart to beat for so that you’ll live longer.

Roger: …Since when did you get so good at provoking me?

Kate: Huh? Ahh…

I felt him grow harder and Roger laughed.

Roger: Then let’s do a lot of exciting stuff, Kate.

Kate: Roger, ahh…wait! Ahh! 

As I thoroughly received Roger’s warmth, I made a wish.

I wished that my days with him would last for even just a second longer.

I wished for a miraculous eternity.

[shzmluvrs]

this is so random but i feel like i need to share the mental image of 2019 freddy eating cornflakes

~ Star✨️

Freddy's Frosted Flakes

Prompt: Just your average teenage boy eating cereal. Nothing crazy going on here🥱. Well, besides saving the world. At the butt-crack of dawn. Again. Why can't the poor boy just be left to eat his cereal in peace🥲?

Timeline: Post Shazam! Pre S!:FOTG

TW/Content: None⚡️Well, probably some cursing⚡️Frosted Flakes (if you don't like Tony the Tiger, should you really even be here🤨?)⚡️Freddy being silly lol⚡️Reader is mentioned like, once, maybe twice

Reader: Non-Specified! Any Pronouns! Knows the secret!

Requested By: @anon-2019

Back to Master List

I wanna say this first real quick, if you don't know what Frosted Flakes even, are, here...

Corny, yes, but at least now you know🤷🏽‍♀️.

Anyways...

I'm not saying Frosted Flakes are his fave (yesIam), but when he requests for them every time Victor goes to the store and is one of the first to be searching through the bags the second he gets home specifically for them, it's hard to believe otherwise.

Personally, I don't think Freddy is the biggest morning person. Will he wake up? Sure. But don't expect him to be his "normal" self, all talkative and head running a mile per minute. He's probably the opposite.

Head empty, no thoughts, quiet mouth. Very much ghost activity, just wandering around his room in a daze looking for clothes that aren't just his boxers, and then downstairs with only the click of his crutch hitting the floor to be heard.

He rubs his eyes, and he finds the house empty, Rosa out shopping, Victor at work, his siblings? Who knows. Who cares. He's hungry.

He's stumbling into the kitchen, murmuring to himself about early-monring nonsense while opening the fridge door and scanning its contents.

Oh, sweet. Juice.

Knowing he shouldn't, having been told many times before, he drinks straight from the carton. He waterfalls it, at the very least, and then he spots the milk. Milk goes in a bowl along with a spoon and-

"Cereal." He mumbles again because he's still hungry💀.

I imagine he's the type to be very unconventional with his eating utensils if he has to be. If there are no clean spoons, he's eating that shit with a fork. Better yet, a small ladel because A) he'll be damned if he's gonna be washing any dishes this early in the day. And B) better for scooping anyway. If there's no clean bowls? He'll eat his cereal out of some tupperware🤷🏽‍♀️.

Also, sorry to disappoint, but he's a "milk first, then cereal" kinda guy. It severely threw you and Billy off when you first watched him do this, Mary said it was "illogical" and Pedro and Eugene make fun of him every time he does it.

You know what? On second thought, he's kind of glad no one's home to see him eat his cereal💀✋🏽.

Speaking of you...

"Mor-nin-g ... an-gel-....cake ... kissy sign..." He spells out under his breath, sending off the message with a smug feeling about him before placing his phone back down and scarfing down more of his cereal.

He's definitely a messy eater, milk all down his chin, food barely in his mouth because he's shoved in so much. At least he has the decency not to smack (because that drives even him, one of the messiest of eaters, nuts).

I also think he's definitely the type to have more than one bowl. Especially if there's milk left behind from the first one? He's not drinking that, he's using it for another helping💀. And he'll repeat the process until it's all gone.

But, if you didn't stop him, and you let him re-pour as much as he wanted, he'd eat (I'd say) 4-6 bowls max, depending on how hungry he is that day.

He's also the type to, when he's hungry but doesn't feel like fully cooking something for himself, or just try too hard in the kitchen in general (lazy ass😒), there he goes for those Frosted Flakes. He's convinced it's versatile, a breakfast, lunch, snack, dinner, and/or dessert food. Rosa has had to stop him from proving this point on several occasions; she will not let any son of hers live off of and eat up an entire box of cereal🥴💀.

ESPECIALLY IF ITS JUST BEEN OPENED OMG!! She gets salty if a box of cereal has just been opened and it's already half gone within a day. Like, she understands she lives with seven other people, but goddamn, there's no excuse for that😭.

'Vzz-Vzz!'

Freddy smiles to himself, mouth still full, but he can't help it because he's excited to see what flirty little morning response you had come up w-

'Hey dude idk if u kno this but the world needs saving so get ur captain i-have-all-powers ass up and come help'

"Mncht..." He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Leave it to Billy to kill his early morning groove...

He set his spoon down in order to use both hands/thumbs, fully indulging himself in having attitude with his mocking tone while he typed.

"I'm actually referred to as Captain Everypower, so get it right and maybe I'll come help."

Billy's response?

'🤓☝🏻'

Freddy groaned to himself, wanting- No, wishing nothing more than to just be able to finish his bowl of cereal. Normally, he'd be at least on his second bowl by now, but nope. Now he's gotta deal with some catastrophe on a half-empty stomach.

'Vzz-Vzz!'

"What now...?!"

'Morning Freds♡'

'Saw the news...'

Oh. It was you again. His frustration subsided for a moment, shoveling as much as he could into his mouth as he quickly sent, '🙄 so did I. Do I have to??'.

Not that he knew, but you had giggled on the other end.

Not that you knew, but upon seeing your response, he giggled, too, and the butterflies in his chest made this whole ordeal a little less miserable...

'Go save the world, Superman😘.'

This was silly, thank you sm for this lmao😭😻.

~ Star✨️

Back to Master List

Taglist:

@anon-2019

[capsensislagamoprh]

"For the love of - it was a joke Victor! A Joke!"

"Yuri, this is not a thing to joke about. I need confirmation. I need to know. The suit. It is not. Not. Powder blue?"

"No! Just the tie is." Yuri held up his hands in surrender, backing away from the steadily approaching Victor. 

"It is not. It's not that hideous tie I saw last week?"

Yuri shot a glance to Christophe, hoping to enlist help. "I... it is? It's powder blue? I ... Look, I don't know what to tell you! He likes it, I think?"

Victor's hands twitched. He didn't know whether to strangle Yuri for teasing him about such an important matter on his wedding day, or dig himself bodily through the wall to rip that hideous tie from his fiance's hands, then use it to light a pyre to their love.

Christoph sighed. "Go see if you can get him to switch to the cream one?"

Offered an out, Yuri dashed from the room. Gulping down stress before knocking on the door down the hall. Phichit popped his head out, eyes staring down the passageway before grabbing Yuri by his shirt and pulling him in. "What's the verdict?"

"Go with the cream."

Yuuri was panting, two ties in his hands. He'd ordered the blue one to be the same color as Victor's eyes, but color match technology had landed him with something that looked like it had been dyed by a preschooler and dropped off the back end of a nondescript van.

"I don't know what to do about this," Yuuri quivered. "It was supposed to be a surprise."

"I... I don't fucking know," Yuri whispered, his hand making a mess of his hair. "I don't know anything about this stuff. I mean, it's not my style, you know?"

Phichit rubbed small circles into Yuuri's back. "It's alright. We'll figure something out. I mean, the cream is very lovely. I like the pattern, and the thin gold highlights are very nice."

"It is," Yuuri sniffed. "It's just not what I wanted. I don't get to surprise him often, and..."

Yuri was going to scream. This was the third fashion related emergency, fifth last minute detail, and seventh 'sudden something'. None of which had been anything of the sort. It was the constant boiling of emotions, back and forth, and threatening 'somehow this is all your fault' glare he got from both sides. Look, he wasn't tactful. Yuri knew that. But if they didn't get their shit together, he wouldn't have to be. He'd be ducking murder charges. Taking a deep breath, he tried again. "What if I show him the tie? Then you can know if he likes it."

Yuuri's brown eyes widened, tears welling up. "You'd do that?"

"I uh... fuck." Damn emotions and all who had them! Snapping both ties from Yuuri's hands, he took a moment to share a deeply profound expression with Phichit. Fuck wedding day jitters, this was verging on a melt down. His own. Backing away quickly, Yuri spun around, ties in hand to once again storm down the hall.

"Are you okay?"

"Beka!" Yuri threw his face into Otabek's chest. "I'm going mad! I can feel it! Steam is coming from the top of my head."

"I was wondering why your hair was curling."

Yuri smacked his chest, sending the ties bouncing. "Shut it. I have to show these ties to Victor."

"Wasn't the blue supposed to be a surprise?"

"Yeah, but apparently it didn't turn out right, and now Katsudon is having a frickin’ break down, and I have to keep Victor from having a conniption over ugly ties. Every time I try to help, it gets worse, and I am going fucking insane, Beka! The homicide will be justified!"

"Ah." Reaching out, Otabek pulled the ties from the blond's grip. "Tell Victor you've solved the problem. I'll be right back."

"But I haven't..."

"I believe in you." Otabek walked off.

Yuri blinked, turned to Victor's door and knocked. Christophe threw the door open, shutting it quickly when he saw Yuri. He knocked again. "Open it up!"

The door opened a sliver. "What news do you have?"

Yuri's eye twitched in response to another spike in his blood pressure. "Cream in, powder out." Christophe opened the door a little more.

"And the suit?"

"I already told you, it's not powder blue."

"Hum..." Christophe rose a well manicured brow. "Right, well, that's good. You should go get ready now."

Yuri took a deep breath. Great. He'd been kicked out of dealing with Victor’s drama, which normally would be a blessing, but now he was stuck with Katsudon's whole mess and he wasn't sure which one was worse. Spastic Victor or sobbing piggie.

Fortunately, he didn't have long to consider the situation. Hiroko came shuffling past, looking lovely in her gown, pearls dangling from her neck in a double loop, hair neatly coiffed with a rather striking hair clip. Yuri made a mental note to ask her where she got it. As he watched her knock on Yuuri's door and be let in, Otabek slipped past, heading into their room. Yuri followed.

"What happened?"

"Nothing." Yuri didn't buy that, staring at Otabek, nose far too close to his own for any sort of focus. "Mrs. Katsuki is going to help Yuuri," he said, rummaging through a bag. Pulling out a small wooden box, he turned. "What was the issue with the ties?"

Yuri huffed, arms crossing as he slouched against the wall. "Piggie ordered the blue one to match Victor's eyes," gagging noises were caught up in a snort. "It's not the right color, and he started spiraling. Victor found out and started panicking. He hit that stage where he's a danger to himself and society, so Christophe sent me to figure out what was going on. I tried to tell him! I tried! He wasn't listening. Not really. He thought I said the whole suit was ruined, and he freaked out more, got this look in his eye..."

Otabek nodded, watching Yuri as he spoke. "Alright." Turning to the box, he popped the small lock, searching through the contents. Yuri huffed, grumbled, then propped his chin on Otabek's shoulder by virtue of standing on his toes.

"What's this then?"

"Stick pins."

"Stick... what?"

"Stick pins. I think they are called tie tacks these days, though they are not the same thing."

"These days? You are so old."

Otabek hummed in response. When he found what he was looking for, he headed to Victor's door. Curious, Yuri followed.

"Yes?" Christophe answered flatly.

Otabek held up the cream tie. "Carnation knot." Christophe's brow raised, his eyes focused, discerning. Otabek held up a gold stick pin sporting a sizable round, brilliant cut topaz. "Center nestled," he added. Then he opened his hand to show a delicate double heart tack pin no bigger than a pinky nail, a pink topaz chip purposely placed on one heart, a turquoise chip in the other. "Hidden fold up, collar tucked, pinned."

Christophe's smile spread to his whole body as his familiar cheer returned. "Yes! Perfect!"

Without another word, Otabek turned towards Yuuri's door, leaving Yuri wondering what world war code book those two learned that shit from.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11

[dream-meister-translations]

MAIN STORY : CHAPTER 3 PART 7

━

At a tavern in the corner of a middle-class neighborhood, far from Primus Club, we met up with Crow and the others and shared the information we had obtained. GRANDFLAIR : I'm just glad you're safe, Emma. EMMA : I'm sorry for acting so recklessly. SION : You were able to make a deal with Camus. That's something. NOAH : Doesn't sound like a deal. Sounds like a threat.

*FLASHBACK*

CAMUS : I propose a deal. EMMA : A deal? CAMUS : Yes. If you agree to it, I will guarantee that you will keep your life. On top of that, I will never speak of your infiltration again. EMMA : What's the deal? CAMUS : It's good to see that you are a smart woman. The deal is simple. In the slums, there is a hidden warehouse owned by the Bloody Lady, I need you to investigate it. Find out what is stored there and report back to me.

*END FLASHBACK*

NOAH : Why would a member of Primus Club want to investigate the Bloody Lady? Aren't they on the same side? Either way, they're just using us. I don't like it. ITSUKI : Why is Camus asking us to do this? Does he not have any friends? EMMA : I'm not sure…Maybe he can't trust any of them? SION : Yeah, I saw that little shit Len turn against him. He was screaming at him and defying his orders. GRANDFLAIR : Ymir didn't seem the loyal type, either. EMMA : Seven is just so difficult to read.

ITSUKI : It sound like even I would make a better teammate than these guys. GRANDFLAIR : Well, it's not like we have a choice. If we disobey Camus' orders…. EMMA : So then, we investigate. It's kinda scary…I wonder what kind of things are hidden in this secret warehouse…Honestly, I don't even want to think about it. GRANDFLAIR : The warehouse might contain the black fairy gun. Buy you guys said that there was a possibility of something else? CROW : Yeah, there's some kinda "black powder." Apparently the Bloody Lady have been smuggling it in. EMMA : (Black Powder…)

According to the information, people who inhaled this mysterious "black powder," have been losing their minds. Their skin turns a pale blue, their bodies become frail, and they start screaming in agony. SION : If that hot-tempered fool is still tending to them, I'm sure they are fine for the time being. EMMA : It sounds like the black fairies had something to do with this powder… NOAH : I think so. ITSUKI : But there is no proof, and Kai is struggling with the treatment. EMMA : Maybe we should ask Navi and the others to look at it? I'll go see Kai and the patients after we wrap this up. CROW : Thanks, Emma. SION : I told you before, we have a strong enemy, one who knows both magic and sorcery. Perhaps it is some sort of grimoire again?

*FLASHBACK*

JOE : Behold this grimoire! GUI : It's a grimoire! JOE : Let me explain the wonders of this grimoire to you! With this, the power of the Black Fairy has multiplied many times over! ACE : Of course, that means we will be powered up too!

*END FLASHBACK*

GRANDFLAIR : Ymir said that they were smuggling in "a lot" of illegal things…If the Bloody Lady is working with Nanashi, this isn't going to end well. This is bigger than Reckord and Sorciana… EMMA : ……… CROW : As far as I'm concerned, this deal with Camus is as good as it gets. If we get into that warehouse we can get our hands on that weird black powder and the guns. C'mon, let's go! ROUGE : Oh, there you are! I've been looking all over for you guys! EMMA : Rouge? And…Victor? VICTOR : I knew that I shouldn't trust it when Rouge said he wanted to introduce me to someone. ROUGE : Well, they're nice aren't they? VICTOR : Yes. But, you conveniently left out the whole part about them coming to spy on me, didn't you? ROUGE : Hahaha~ I must have forgot that detail. EMMA : What are you doing here? VICTOR : I am good friends with Camus. I came here today to help you. I'll tell you all about the Primus Club and the Bloody Lady. SION : What reason do we have to believe you? VICTOR : How about my friendship with Rouge? NOAH : That makes it even harder to trust you.

VICTOR : They really don't like you, do they? ROUGE : Hahaha~ VICTOR : Emma, you don't trust me? EMMA : It's hard to believe you after everything… VICTOR : That is the correct feeling to have. Especially in a city like this. But I have no qualms with you. All I want is to live in peace with my friends at Primus Club. GRANDFLAIR : Let's hear him out. Then we can consider our course of action. NOAH : If Gran says so. VICTOR : Okay, but I've only been in Primus Club for two years. I haven't seen as much as the others, so I don't know all the details. EMMA : Just tell us what you know. ROUGE : ………….. GRANDFLAIR : ………..?

[crackspinewornpages]

Les Misérables 360/365 -Victor Hugo

351 

In the mayor’s office they were dressed in finery and nice clothes Gillenormand had to give away Cosette as Valjean broke his thumb. (how does this hinder him from giving her away) “Evil does not come from man, who is good at bottom.”p.870 Gillenormand declares everyone to be happy and also, he no longer has any political opinions. (they would be happy to hear that) They returned to a home full of flowers and a party of relatives, Theodule was now a captain, Cosette and him didn’t recognize each other. At the banquet Valjean told Cosette he was content and laughed at her command but as the guests entered the hall Valjean wasn’t there, he left with the excuse of his ailment. (just a broken thumb stop being a baby) Gillenormand makes a toast that there can't be too much love, women must be loved, impossible for God to make people anything but for it. The couple left for the wedding night, “To love, or to be loved-this suffices. Demand nothing more, there is no other pearl to be found in the shadowy folds of life. To love is a fufilment.”p.875 (that’s a theme of this tome) 

352 

When no one was paying attention Valjean slipped away to the chamber he had carried Marius eight months before. He listened to the party and left returning to Rue de l’ Homme Arme, the house was empty and bare. He took out Cosette's childhood mourning clothes he saved and thought of that December, thinking Fantine would be pleased she was mourning for her and was warm, broken hearted, he sobbed. 

353 

Valjean struggled once again, how many times has he been through this, a crossroad and heart-rending question. Marius and Cosette was his doing but should he retain Cosette, as a father, as he is in disgrace, in the law. He had clung to Cosette and ascended from disaster, should he let go, the Champmathieu affair is nothing compared to Cosette’s marriage. Reentrance to the galleys, to the void, should he impose the galleys to those children, sacrifice Cosette or himself, he thought of it for twelve hours. 

354 

On February 17 there was a visitor, Valjean returned to Gillenormand’s, he has to speak to Marius privately. Neither Valjean or Marius had slept well (we know you don’t have to say it) but Marius was happy to see him and they want him to live here. Valjean tells him he is an ex convict and it took a while for Marius to understand. He faked his injury since it wouldn't be right to forge the marriage documents, he’s not related to Cosette, she just needed him, he fulfilled that duty. “We have all undergone moments of trouble in which everything within us is dispersed; we say the first things that occur to us, which are not always precisely those which should be said.”p.883 

Marius asks why confess, he could have kept it a secret, what’s his motive, honesty. He doesn’t belong here, he doesn’t belong to family of men, (you stole a freaking loaf of bread and escaped prison decades ago) it all come to an end with Cosette’s marriage, he could lie for her but not himself, his conscience made him confess, he couldn’t have them share his taint. (again you stole a loaf of bread) He condemns himself and evaluates by degrading himself in his eyes, a galley slave with a conscience. (like nobody in prison have any redeeming qualities) “There are encounters which bind us, there are chances which involves in duties.”p.885 When one has a horror over their head, (you stole bread and escaped prison) it’s not right to make others share it without knowledge, Fauchelevent lent his name but he has no right to use it, he once stole bread to live and today he won't steal a name to live. (do I need to beat you with a newspaper too) 

Imagine if he said nothing and one day someone called out Jean Valjean and revealed him, he is a wretched man, Marius says he can get him a pardon, he’s presumed dead already. (yes this is the 1800s modern forensics and photo records don’t exist he’s believed to be dead for like a decade now how many people know his name and face and remember when the public saw you risk your life to save somebody they wanted you pardoned) It was then Cosette entered the room and thinks they are talking politics and won't have it, Marius tried to say they are talking business, then she’ll stay and listen but he wants to talk privately. She sees Valjean is pale and asks if he’s well, no and he smiles for her, and Marius convinces her to leave. Marius worries when she’ll find out, but Valjean has him swear to keep it from her, she was frightened enough of the passing galley slaves. He starts crying, wanting to die, Marius tells him he’ll keep it secret. Valjean asks if he shouldn’t see Cosette anymore, he thinks it’s for the best. As he leaves, he says he desires to see Cosette, but he had to tell him for nine years he was a father, he’s not sure if Marius understands, he’s told he can visit in the evening. 

355 

Marius was upset he felt instinctively enigmatic about Valjean and it was the galleys, was he and Cosette’s happiness condemned to it. He had entered this love affair without precautions and life amended it little by little. (that’s what happens when you marry someone you only knew for a few months) He had never told Cosette of the Gorbeau house affair, the fleeing victim, the Thenardiers, Eponine, he was so intoxicated with Cosette at the time nothing but love. (that’s obsession) Weighing consequences if he had told her and found out Valjean was a convict would it change anything, no, so nothing to regret. Valjean might have been hidden forever in an honest family but didn’t for conscience, Marius tried to find balance from Fauchelevent and Valjean, he went to the barricade for Javert out of revenge it seems. (you could clear this all up by asking him) How had to come to Cosette and kept her for so long, her childhood sheltered by a criminal, he couldn’t think of it without getting dizzy. 

How did he educate her, why raise her, that was Valjean and God’s secret. Marius knew God has his tools and Valjean was one for Cosette. He wouldn’t dare question Valjean, (seriously a third act misunderstanding stop being stupid) Cosette was pure and that was enough for him, so Valjean’s personal affairs didn’t concern him. “Jean Valjean was a passer-by. He had said so himself. Well, he had passed. Whatever he was, his part was finished.”p.893 The man was a convict, not even on a social ladder, Marius had found it simple, breeches in law should be followed with suffering, then there came Valjean. He should have freed his house of a man like Valjean but he made a promise and Valjean held his and one must keep their word, but his first duty was Cosette and through questioning her found the nettle protected the lily. (yeah it’s almost as if felons can still be good fathers) 

BOOK EIGHTH FADING AWAY OF THE TWILIGHT 

356 

The following night Valjean knocked on the Gillenormand house and was let in, fatigued, he sat in an armchair and dozed until Cosette came to him. He doesn’t move to embrace her and tells her not to call him father but Jean if she wants. She wants to know what he means, what happened, she doesn’t understand, she no longer needs a father since she has a husband. She’s furious at this (oh actual emotion besides weeping) and Marius’s strange behavior, is he angry at her because she’s happy, her happiness was his life now his days are over. She embraces him, he pulls her off and leaves and won’t address her formally again. 

357 

Valjean came the next night and Cosette wasn’t as warm, Valjean came every day and Marius arranged to be absent, no one knew the reasons behind it. Weeks passed like this and Cosette fell into married life, only wanting Marius to be with her and eventually Valjean became a different person, she doesn’t like it, who is he, she doesn’t know how good he is, she’d be afraid of him. Over time he visits became longer and once Cosette slipped and called him father he felt joy but said to call him Jean, she doesn’t see him cry. (you ever wish you could beat some sense into fictional characters as much as I do) 

358 

Then there was no more familiarity, he talked of her childhood, one day Marius took Cosette to the garden of Rue Plumet and forgot the time when Valjean would visit and Cosette didn't notice she didn’t see him. Valjean points out that she should have a carriage and hasn’t replaced Toussaint, why not profit from her riches, it adds to happiness, Cosette didn't respond. To stay longer Valjean talked of Marius, it was nice to forget by her side. One day Cosette mentioned to him Marius wants to live frugally on three thousand a year, (I don’t know how much that is in 1833 but in 2023 that is way below poverty line) Valjean didn't say anything to her but Marius believes he came into that money by nefarious means. (could have this cleared up instantly by just asking him) The lack of fire and distant chairs in the room was a subtle way of showing him the door. Once the chairs weren't there and a servant said they weren't expecting anyone to visit, the next day Valjean didn’t come Cosette inquired why and was told he was traveling. She only noticed he didn't come one day, it was two. 

359 

Summer 1833 shopkeepers noticed the same passerby in black from Rue de l’ Homme Arme he walked slowly and slowly shortened his journey, what was the use. (so he’s getting ready to die) 

BOOK NINTH SUPREME SHADOW, SUPREME DRAW 

360 

How terrible happiness is to make one forget duty, Marius regretted the promise so gradually estranged Valjean from Cosette, he considered it necessary and just. He tried to restitution the six hundred thousand francs and wouldn’t condemn Cosette to this knowledge, (again how is he a love interest he’s just terrible) who mechanically did as he wished, she was attached to her father but loved her husband. (she really has no personality of her own does she) Occasionally she asked if he returned from his journey and Valjean gave the answer no. Cosette allowed herself to be taken away from him, (really no personality or will of her own) it is the ingratitude of nature, youth go where there is joy, old age the end. (you have no idea how happy I am that this is almost the end) 

NEXT

[musingmemories]

“Mind tricks...?” Voiced in a guttural scoff, an echo of confirmation. Uncertain if it was because she was offended that any attempt at that she might've had were immediately deemed poor, or the accusation she'd stoop to such behavior in the first place. Surely the latter... because in truth Lucy Gray’s intention to play mind tricks would’ve been poor. Even if absolutely necessary. Lying never came easy. Always part of it coming from a place of truth. She cared too much, too passionately. Sparked from the depths of her soul, her ribs a hearth, and carried through every time the situation presented it to her. This one included.

Presently, in swift falling condemnations, frustration carefully stoked by Coriolanus. He knew about Billy Taupe. The parts of Lucy Gray’s broken heart she could share freely, admittedly still withholding a great deal. “… you think I made that up?” She struggled to keep her voice from cracking, like a pin dropping her voice felt far away, separated from herself an out of body experience. Lying, spinning the tale of a story of heartbreak that'd left her broken and still mending... how dare he. "You truly don't know me at all then, sugar. Because I wouldn't go back to Billy Taupe for all the money and glory in the world." That bridge had been burned to ash, dust scattered along the sands of time... unlike the path Coriolanus offered her, monetary value unfortunately what balanced this life on it's scales of judgement.

Tipping, weighed between them and neither keeping score.

It wasn't real. Verbally admitted by Coriolanus. What was a token, his mother's compact offered had been nothing more than a prop. So why didn't it make her feel better but like her heart sank deeper in its currents? Lucy Gray felt her tongue leaden, gaze avoidant to hide the creeping blush of rosy pink from showing on her darkened complexion. And to hide the hurt in her eyes causing chocolate orbs to darken in shade. "You know how the Capitol works, you know what your audience likes..." His audience, the us versus them mentality of the Capitol and a penchant for the drama and theatrics, preferring what brought about the unexpected, the breathtaking.

For someone like Lucy Gray who was a singer and performer, you'd think she'd understand. Instead... Coriolanus turned the tide on her, attempted to coax out the truth before he gave his every single time. Like playing an infinite game of chess and Lucy Gray the pawn. "I was— am— being a realist, Coriolanus. What future could we possibly have?" One that he didn't have anymore now that he was here in Twelve, so he claimed. Just like the rest of them. "This isn't a life fit for anyone." Scrounging for trade and food, scraping by just to survive… couldn’t he see that? He was better off without her, basking in the glory of his tribute being crowned the Victor.

But oh how Lucy Gray loathed herself for the sick satisfaction she felt hearing there wasn't a Capitol woman for him to share that all with. Selfishness following the admittance of there being only her.

Her.

All at once, Lucy Gray couldn't breathe. The world stopped with it, noise falling to a ringing akin to that of a tuning fork, shrill and faint. Easily a lie told in the form of the sweetest poison, a reminder to protect the salvaged pieces of her previously broken spirit. Gullible, naïve Lucy Gray who believed that love could conquer all. Revoked, effortlessly, swiftly driving that knife into her heart further with the conclusion it'd all been a mistake. A flip of a coin, sky blues turning stormy, and Lucy Gray knew she was losing Coriolanus again. "We aren't deceiving..." She couldn't speak for the districts in their entirety, defending the Covey in a quick breath and sounding like she was defending all. Yet she was the one making things difficult for him. "It's the way you speak, Coriolanus. Callin' the districts deceiving, the way you claim you're now stuck here because of me when you made that bed to lie in. You'll never accept this as your life, and your tarnished soul will be forced to wander and wonder what if after being blessed with delusions of grandeur. Would you truly be happy here if this was the rest of your life and not desperately clawing for a way out?" Like the rest of them controlled by the Capitol?

"Don't give me that either, Lucy Gray. Your poor attempt in mind tricks." Because he was convinced, that's what she was trying to do; play some sort of mind game with her listening to tunes he wants to hear line. "Maybe he has a lot to do with it." he pressed, "Since it's a possibility you just led me on so you could come back and resume life with Billy Taupe and that's why you won't admit why don't want me here." He didn't care it sounded so accusatory, because in his mind it was almost close to just being the truth of what she was up to.

"Apparently, you aren't listening either." That could seemingly go two ways. "Like the other Victors and their mentors..." he repeated in offense, it was like everything he had felt had been a lie. "Then, it wasn't real. Like I said... that night I came to give my mother's compact. You tried to kiss me and I didn't let you, because I had to ask if it was real. It wasn't. It was all just for your benefit, Lucy Gray. Since to you... we were just a mentor and a Victor." he mocked bitterly, chest feeling heavy, blues flickering to the sky. Similar in color, but the sky above them was clear unlike the skies in his hues with a terrible storm brewing behind them. "Besides that, I have no future now other than being this the next twenty years. A Peacekeeper, stuck in district twelve." With Lucy Gray changed– all done so pointlessly. "There isn't a Capitol woman," he retorted angrily, because there wasn't and she was putting words in his mouth, "there's just you." the rest of his sentence flies out of his mouth before he can think to stop it from ever being said. His heart pounded harder now knowing what he had said, going humiliatingly silent. So he swallowed tightly, retracting with something harsh to crush looking like an idiot since it was clearly all so one sided.

"But my mistake there isn't. My mistake for thinking I could follow someone like you here. My mistake for thinking you weren't deceiving like every other person who's district." Yes, Lucy Gray had stated several times she wasn't district, she was covey... but that made the insult even richer. She may as well be, since she was acting exactly how Grandma'am and his father had put it. "Why are you trying so hard to make it not be for me?" Why is she trying so hard, to put it in his head he isn't right for her? The question is driving him insane.

[batfamtv]

i work for her

summary: batmom meets the justice league

bruce wayne x fem!reader

word count: 1508

"Shall I fetch you some tea?"

You smiled from where you sat, and turned your chair to face Alfred, "Yes please. I don't know why I'm so tired already, I'm normally up and about at this time.”

Alfred chuckled knowingly, “Well, being a full-time wife of the Batman will wear one too eventually.” He walked to you, taking a peek at the numerous monitors you turned back to look at. “And it’s not even midnight yet.”

At the sound of the stone wall sliding open and elevator descending, you turned around to look. Alfred did too, but immediately turned to face you, about to inform you that he will be leaving you for a while to make some tea, but--

“Wow! This is awesome!”

Alfred did a double-take. You raised your brows. Bruce wasn’t alone. He was with the other metahumans, smiling tiredly with his cowl in his hand. “Brought some friends.”

While the other metahumans inspected the batcave, your husband was quick to approach you, giving you a warm smile. You reached from your seat to take his cowl and place it on the table, and bring your hand back to his, squeezing it lightly. “Missed you.”

His smile brightened, squeezing your hand back.

Alfred reached beside you to grab Bruce’s cowl, mumbling about making sure there was no damage to it.

You noticed the young, elated kid who was observing the batcave with fascination. This must be Barry Allen. Diana you’ve already met, but the rest not yet--at least, not personally. You’ve only gotten to know who they were from the research you helped conduct.

Bruce called to the others, “Everyone, this is Alfred and Y/N. I work for them.”

Diana approached you and Alfred, patting the latter in acknowledgment. You shuffled to get out of the chair you had curled into, but Diana quickly stopped you before you could get up, “No, Y/N. Stay.” She smiled at you.

“Thanks, Di,” you smiled back gratefully and with a nod, Diana excused herself. Victor Stone was walking behind Diana, only giving you and Alfred a stiff nod.

“Oh,” Alfred shared a nervous glance at you before following Victor again with his eyes. You lightly shook your head in amusement.

Barry Allen looked very excited to meet you and Alfred, raising both of his hands to wave at you, one hand waving at Alfred enthusiastically, and the other extending to wave at you. “Hi, Batman’s bosses!” You opened your mouth to correct him, but he was already gone in a flash.

Finally, Arthur Curry passed by you and Alfred, “This is badass guys,” before giving you a thumbs-up and following after the others.

Alfred looked so surprised seeing these many people in the batcave again after all this time. You grinned at him when he gave you a look, clearly showing his surprise. “Well, I’ll put on the tea. I was going to get Mistress Wayne and me some.”

“Great,” Bruce glanced at his new teammates, almost feeling a little awkward to see a lot of people occupying his batcave.

“I don’t know where we’re gonna find the cups,” Alfred replied, shrugging.

“Ooh, remember that tea set I got from Bludhaven? Those were nice,” you suggested. Alfred nodded, thinking, “I do, but wasn’t those destroyed when the Dami--”

“I think there’s enough left,” you told Alfred, “I’ll help you look.”

Alfred brought his hands up, gesturing for you to stop. “Please, Mistress Wayne, I got this. You can do me the favor of resting to revitalize yourself.”

You waved him off, rolling your eyes teasingly. “I’m fine, I just need some of your tea, Alfred.” He nodded appreciatively and excused himself.

Beside you, Bruce turned to look at you, moving from holding your hand to lean down to plant a quick kiss on your temple. You smiled and held his face, planting a small kiss on his cheek. “Alfred’s right, you should be resting.”

“I will,” you nodded, reassuring him. “I’ll have some tea and take a quick nap.”

“We might be leaving not too long after.”

“Then, I’ll see you off.” You smiled, caressing his cheek with your thumb. Bruce leaned into your touch, before glancing at the team and back to you again. You chuckled at how Bruce Wayne, the Batman, was subtly trying to excuse himself to return to his team, albeit reluctantly, “Go, silly! I’ll be here.” He gave you another kiss and walked over to the others.

On the team’s downtime, waiting for Victor to fix the aircraft, Bruce was watching you sleep, finding comfort in your relaxed face. Diana walked over to Bruce, nudging him, “You should take her upstairs to rest.”

“I would, but I know she’ll get mad.”

“How is she?”

Bruce sighed, “She’s tired all the time. I told her she should just rest, but she insists on helping us.” He smiled at Y/N lovingly, then scowled, as if remembering something unpleasant.

Diana furrowed her eyebrows, “What is it?”

“Uh…” he glanced at her, unsure whether he should divulge. He hadn’t told this to anyone outside the family, “I had a dream, like, I don’t know, almost like a premonition. It was the end of the world, and Barry Allen was right here,” he gestured to the spot Y/N was occupying, “and he said to me ‘Lois Lane is the key.’” He made a face, glancing at Diana, almost looking for advice on what this dream meant.

Diana shrugged half-heartedly, “She is… to Superman. Every heart has one.” She smiled, almost bittersweet, remembering hers. Bruce glanced to Y/N again, almost ready to agree with Diana and drop the conversation.

Despite that, however, he continued, “I think it’s something more. Something darker.” Worry was etched across his face. He hoped Diana was right. He hoped he was wrong.

A while later, you woke up from your nap to see the team and Alfred walking to the elevator. “Is it time to go already?”

Bruce looked at you guiltily, you looked so comfortable all curled up in the chair, he didn’t want to wake you. “Yeah, time to go.” He and Alfred, along with the others are on the platform now, ready to ascend to the top of the waterfall.

With a sigh, you rolled your neck and removed the blanket you buried yourself into. Bruce smiled when you waddle towards him.

Victor, Arthur, and Barry all shared the exact same looks, gawking at you and your pregnant belly. With one hand resting on top of your belly, you laughed at their shocked faces as the platform ascended.

“Wait, what? You’re very pregnant!” Barry exclaimed.

“I am!” You nodded excitedly, “I’m not due anytime soon, though. I’m just big.”

“Don’t you...I don’t know...Shouldn’t you file for maternity leave? You should be resting!” Barry replied, glancing at you and your tummy worriedly. With that, Alfred and Bruce both looked at you with the expression, “See? That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you.”

“Well, the Batman never rests…” you glance at your husband, “and neither does his wife.”

“Wife?” Barry was even more shocked. “I can’t believe Batman is married!” He glanced at Bruce before turning back to you, “Can I touch your belly?” Barry asked, looking like he was going to vibrate with excitement. You nodded, laughing lightly, “Sure, but the baby is sleeping, so no kicks.”

The platform ascended to the very top, the aircraft on top of you. You stared at it in disbelief, Bruce had tried for the longest time to fix it, and now it was here, fully operational. You turned to your husband, “You fixed it?”

Bruce shook his head, tilting his head to Victor. You turned to Victor, “You fixed it! Thank you!”

Victor nodded, “It wanted to fly. Flight is its nature.” Bruce nodded at him, grateful, “Yours too.”

Barry was still talking excitedly to your tummy, finally saying goodbye to the baby. He looked up at you and smiled, “Thank you!”

“Take care, Barry,” you smiled at him. Arthur turned to you, giving you a shaka sign before joining Barry to the aircraft.

Bruce turned to look at you and Alfred. You smiled at him, handing him his cowl. He took it gratefully, before turning to Alfred, “He’ll be here, Alfred. I know it.”

“What makes you so sure?” Alfred asked.

“Faith, Alfred. Faith.” Bruce smiled, looking back to you. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

“Will you be here by breakfast?” You asked him jokingly. He grinned and with a light shrug, replied, “Hopefully.”

You laughed, blowing him a kiss as the ramp closed in front of him.

Descending to the Batcave, you were met with an annoyed look on your son’s face, in his suit, wielding a katana. “They already left? I was supposed to come, Ummi!” He huffed, not mad at you but at his dad for leaving him behind.

You leaned down to kiss Damian’s temple, arm around him to guide him to the main house, “It’s a school night, sweetie. Maybe another time.”

a/n: I had a dream about batfleck and now simp mode is on overdrive

[drawingangel666]

Tattoos - Poly! Bowers Gang x non-binary!/ female!/ male! reader (requested)

It Masterlist

Bowers gang Masterlist

Poly! Bowers gang Masterlist

request: Could you do poly bowers gang from it 2017 with a reader who has a ton of pricings and tattoos they did themselves

Reader’s gender: Non-binary 

Reader’s pronouns: They/ them

Pairing: Poly! bowers gang x reader, Henry Bowers x reader, Patrick x reader, Victor x reader and Belch x reader.

Warnings: polyamorous relationship, Patrick being the horny mf he is, softie! Victor, softie/Stubborn! Henry, softie! Reginald, fluff (except Patrick, well.. kinda), dirty talking (Patrick)

A/N: as it wasn’t specified what kind of pricing or tattoos the reader had, I am going to put one on their right arm, and piercings on their ears and their nose. 

A/N 2: I did this in first person and there are no pronouns so the reader had any gender you want it to have.

Y/N’s POV 

I was walking down the halls of Derry high school, I felt my classmate’s eyes on me. It was easy to know. I had a tattoo up y right arm, and piercings in my ears and one on my nose. 

Walking pass the infamous Bowers Gang I smirk. I’ve been with them for a long time. As it said ´´sharing is caring`` well,  we have a polyamorous relationship with them. 

We settled this some time ago, when I was new in Derry. They were fascinated with my ´´badass`` appearance. And soon enough I was also head over heels for them. 

I walked to Reggie’s car, pretty confident about myself. I felt two arms go around my waist, turning me around just to face Patrick. His smile bright in his face. ´´Oh dear god, Y/n`` Patrick said grabbing my ass with one of his hands. ´´ If you keep being like this I will have to be fisting in class``. He said, nibbling at my ear piercings. I laughed.

´´Pat, you already do that`` I said. He pulled his hands up, laughing. Vic, Henry and Belch got to us too enough. 

Henry gave me a quick peck on the lips and then he sat shotgun. Belch took y hand before heading to the driver seat. Pat and I sat on the back. Soon enough Vic entered too. 

So I was in the middle. ´´Wow Y/n`` Victor said, looking at my newest ear piercing. ´´ I still can’t believe that you did all that by yourself`` He told me, tracing my tattoo with his fingers. His soft fingertips sending chills over my skin.

[Few minutes later]

We got to Henry’s house. Reg pulled up and we all went inside. 

Henry sat on the couch, I was about to sit by his side when he patted his lap and told me ´´sit here``. I sighed and said no. But then again, he looked at my with a ´´kicked puppy`` look in his eyes. ´´Please?`` he said. 

I got up and sat on his lap, he passed his arms by my waist and nuzzled his head on my neck while Reg turned on the TV. Pat sat at Henry’s left side and Reggie by his right. Then Victor sat in between our legs. 

Reggie got my right arm and trailed kissed all along the tattoo while we watched TV.

I felt relaxed, loved and safe. What more can I ask for?

[loviris]

Still thinking about Zerxus and Asmodeus. This is the God of lies and deceit, more beautiful than any other. He wears the face of the most beautiful person in the person who he is in front if’s life. Who else could be that but the love of your life. Of whom you loved, implicitly trusted, and who you feel guilt over being unable to save wishing it was you instead because he was so much better in your eyes. As you stumble to fill the large gap in your life, that pedestal. Knowing you can never replace him. That the guilt and rage over being forced to take his place in the most advanced and powerful city of mages who complete astonishing feats every day but are were unable in all their power, fix this injustice. So called benevolent Gods unable to be found despite walking the very same plane as you. The sheer betrayal felt every single day, not only by the world but by yourself, you capabilities. And suddenly there is an opportunity for a second chance at saving someone, in a familiar position.

You see this being suffering like your husband did. Struggling under the boot of a God that you will never believe is better or worth worship than anyone else. Saving it’s life from a being others would, in their worship, believe the so called benevolent God correct despite what is in front of their face, let alone stand up to them, question them. A being suffering from wounds from a prison they have been trapped since the time of legends, from other Gods, from an explosive breakout. The fundamental truth of your existence is being able to access the essence of divinity that these Gods are supposed to only have access to, who are kind enough to share it with their followers but only just enough. So here is a being who rules over the domain lies and deceit. Only you know there are always too sides to a story. And then there is the truth. A being who speaks with a silver tongue, a part of he was made to be by the others around him. Not truly his choice, not in control, unable to change the outcome, reflecting your own feelings of your position. You know this suffering you live it every day. And yet you wake up and choose to be kind despite it. Even to those who may not deserve it. In positions and beliefs that you are whole heartedly opposed to.

And in your kindness, is what you place your belief in. In a world where much like today is rarely found in those with power. You aim to be different, to use that Divinity you wrenched for yourself, to protect. Your conviction to do so granting you this access. And much like the other beings with that same power given a role you had no choice in. And that is why it is so easy to help this being, this person, as you see yourself as well as the love of your life. So you choose to believe, despite the propaganda you have been fed all of your life about so called “betrayer” Gods. After all history is written by the victors. So again there may be some truth to the history told, on the other side of the coin there is what the others remember as the true betrayal in their story. And a truth unseen by both sides.

It is so easy then to believe in this silver tongued devil. Knowing what he says rings of some truth. True parts of an incomplete story. After all when the losing team can’t tell their side, locked away, striped of their power and their creations, their sons and daughters. The whole story lost to time. The omission glaring. So you take your kindness, you listen, you believe. You try to help after all that is what you do, your pledge to yourself, your family, your friends, your city that is not your home. After all the best lies, the most believable ones always have some truth under the veil. And who could be a better liar that the being whose domain is just that.

There is much to be said of hubris in this age. But though hubris has brought destruction. Of how we know the story ends. The most gut wrenching is that of a man who is kind, refuses even now to believe he shouldn’t, couldn’t help. Who will continue to try to protect dispute everything so that he never has to fail to save someone anyone from the same fate as him, his love lost. And that despite the intention, being as inherently selfish as the rest of those wizards around him.

[the-last-kenobi]

*kciks down door* ReQuEsTs?!??! uh, 18. “Is it all right if I hug you?” with Obi-wan and character of your choice (please, this boy needs a hug so bad)

Hugs!!!! What an excellent ask.

Took me forever to pick a character though. I came this close to writing multiple hugs throughout the years but it would’ve been very long...

It’s still long. Whoops.

Note: I skipped the actual sentence and instead went for ✨vibes only✨

(From this various prompts list.)

_

Obi-Wan is twenty-three standard years old, very nearly twenty-four.

It is a delightful stage of life. (It’s awful.)

He’s growing in independence, so close to Knighthood he can almost taste it. (Is he? Nobody seems to have a clear opinion.)

He’s receiving more and more solo assignments, and on his missions with Master Jinn, the older Jedi makes an effort to at least await the Padawan’s input before making a decision, sometimes even deferring to Obi-Wan’s word. (Only in public, though, is there a sense of equality. Behind the scenes, Obi-Wan is still very much the learner.)

He longs to be free. (He doesn’t want to be alone.)

The confusing clash of thoughts and emotions is, in and of itself, a creator of more clashing emotions, all resulting in a bundle of self-doubt that crouches near his heart, like a greedy bird, picking away at his strength and certainty when he most needs it.

Doesn’t your doubt show you that you’re truly not ready? the pestering creature asks.

Doesn’t your longing for freedom prove you don’t deserve it? it says, tapping against the veins of ice and fear that lie right against the heat of his heart.

Doesn’t your need to be reassured tell you that you’re too hesitant, too weak to be alone?

His desire to fly is wrong. His desire to be sheltered, even more so.

Both together, coexisting in his heart and mind, could quite possibly mean the one thing he had been dreading for over a decade now, the thing older Jedi, real Jedi, had put into words and addressed to his face when he was only twelve, only eleven, only ten.

You are too emotional, they said.

You are overeager, they said.

You are not destined to be a Jedi, Qui-Gon had told him. I will not train you.

He had, in the end, and Obi-Wan has been wondering in the depths of his heart for all these years of it had not been a dreadful mistake. As much as the Force sings in his ears Jedi, Jedi, Jedi, endure, Jedi, Jedi, it felt like everything he touched, everything tangible, argues back failure, weak, selfish, foolish, unwanted, not fit.

Obi-Wan is twenty-three, almost twenty-four, and he is years into adulthood and light years away from proving that he’s capable of handling it.

When will he be Knighted?

Nobody seems to be expecting it from him.

Do they know, he wonders, have they known since the beginning that I am doomed to fail? Has this all been a gracious attempt, a thank you for my actions on Bandomeer, and they have drawn this out and out and out as long as they can?

How much longer can this go on?

Still, there are moments when he is at peace, when Obi-Wan is sure. When he meditates, when he accomplishes something new, when he walks away from an assignment feeling unashamed when he translates his memories into a tidy mission report.

When he has one of his long talks with Master Yoda, or Master Windu, who despite their revered status have taken to talking to him more like a friend than a child, outside of the Council chambers.

When he remembers the Force whispering inside, Jedi Jedi Jedi Jedi, endure, Jedi...

And then, on one of the missions assigned to both himself and his Master - still the overwhelming majority of his assignments - he and Qui-Gon are separated during a violent uprising.

There are bodies in the streets and buildings are aflame; children weep over the bodies of their parents and parents cradle the bodies of their children and scream as if the sound is their only companion left in the world. The standing government has a point, the rebellion has a point, the civilians caught in the crossfire don’t say which point they agree with because they’re too busy screaming and perishing, and Qui-Gon is simply gone.

Obi-Wan, faced with the threat of further bloodshed right here and right now even as the air is still clogged with ash and flame and as another body topples from a rooftop in front of his feet, raises his hand in surrender and calmly proposes a truce, offering himself as a legal hostage against the government that brought the Jedi here.

Obi-Wan is led away with his hands bound behind his back and his lightsaber taken away, and though his face is calm, the furrow between is brow speaks of his inner turmoil, which sounds like tapping against the cracks in his heart and Qui-Gon, where is Master Qui-Gon, I don’t know what I’m doing, if I fail more people will die, if I fail it will be my fault, is this taking charge or stepping aside, am I a leader or a victim?

He spends not days, not weeks, but three standard months as a hostage. He spends a terrible amount of time sitting in a cell and pondering his uselessness, the gravity of his foolishness, but every time someone opens the door and escorts him out to hold parley with the leaders of the rebellion and the ministry of the planet, he holds his head high, tempers his fear, and speaks to them with all he has.

Which is honesty. Humility.

You don’t know what to do, he says. Neither do I.

We all know we must do something. No matter how much blood you spill and how much earth you scorch you will eventually come back here to this table to have this same discussion until either both of you are broken beyond belief or one of you has been crushed, and half your planet’s voice stolen away. And you will have sacrificed two of the Republic’s Jedi along the way, a black mark against whichever victor is left standing.

Or, he says, we choose to pass over the violence and talk here and now, and choose this again and again and again. You have already had your fighting. Your people are already hoping for negotiation.

Are you here for their sakes or to kill them for show?

He does not use these exact words.

He sews them into his brief speeches, hammers in the point sharply when he must, weaves the common thread over and over again.

He knows they fight while he is locked away.

But he believes, from the growing respect in the eyes of these people who hold him both by his and against his will, that he is making a difference. He must be.

And Obi-Wan is twenty-three, very very nearly twenty-four, when he finally walks free to witness the signing of a treaty like this planet has never had before, to witness the formation of a new government, and he discovers not ashes and mass graves when he sees daylight for the first time in three months — but instead, a city and a planet marred only by scattered battlefields, and marked more clearly by the way its people have fought to keep it clean, to keep it safe.

Children race through the streets, unafraid, because they have had real shelter during the war. It has not entered their homes since that first terrible day.

Neighbors from opposing sides of this fight and friends who staked no claim in this war mingle freely. Their smiles are a little hesitant, but they are there.

The dead are all honored equally.

It is leaps and bounds, it is a civilization that propelled itself through years of struggle in three months, and Obi-Wan is awed by them.

He knows it cannot be this way everywhere.

He knows that there will be wars where no one wants to surrender, or where one side will be so certain of their point of view that they would rather raise hell than cease, and he knows there will be people who resist them.

But today it is real.

Obi-Wan looks at his pale and clammy hands, the marks around his wrists where he was so often bound, and feels the way his limbs shake from months of too little sunlight, not quite enough food, and more than his share of fear and doubt and self-recrimination.

As he smiles for a camera that will record this moment forever, he glimpses Qui-Gon amongst the crowd.

Someone explains to him, when he asks, that his Master had been injured during the uprising and spent the first three weeks of Obi-Wan’s captivity in convalescence. The remaining time, he has spent on the sidelines, forced there by his Padawan’s actions. With Obi-Wan a willing hostage, playing negotiator and leverage both, Qui-Gon had no role except to mingle with the people, offer them comfort and aid.

Something Obi-Wan knows his Master loved, but — he had still stolen his Master’s role.

He had thrown himself into a stupid, foolish situation, and how many times had Qui-Gon teased him about playing damsel in distress? And here he has gone and surrendered of his own accord. What would Qui-Gon have done if Obi-Wan had led them all to ruin?

Obi-Wan slowly loses his confidence, his relief, his silver tongue, as the press and the people recede, and he and his Master walk to a room that has been prepared for both of them, as honored guests by this new government.

Qui-Gon says nothing to him.

They walk in silence for twelve minutes.

And then, as soon as the door has shut behind them, Obi-Wan finds himself pulled into a fierce embrace, one of his Master’s hands buried in his hair, Qui-Gon’s chin resting atop his head.

Obi-Wan hesitates.

Does his Master think him a child?

Perhaps Qui-Gon senses his thoughts, because the man pulls away briefly, still holding his Padawan by the shoulders, as if unwilling to let him go completely, else he vanish like smoke.

“Padawan,” Qui-Gon says, and his voice is loud and strong and brimming with warmth that washes over Obi-Wan like sunlight, like water, like an embrace. “Well done, my Padawan.”

And then he is pulled again into Qui-Gon’s comforting arms, and Obi-Wan breathes in and gives in, folding against his teacher like a child, and if a few tears stain Qui-Gon’s robes or drop into Obi-Wan’s hair, neither of them speaks of it.

Obi-Wan lets his Master hold him, lets go of fear and pride and doubt, and finds that he is safe.

~

[liptonsbabe]

I was wondering if you can do a request with Finnick Odair and my oc/me (Hannah). You don’t have to use my name, but it’s Hannah if you do. So here’s some backstory. So Hannah’s father is a district 1 victor of the hunger games, her mother is a stylist and her father lived in the capital now due to district 1’s privileges. Hannah was born and raised in the capital, but was taunt by her parents to be anti hunger games, due to her father being in the games and seeingnn the horrors along with being traumatized by seeing them when she was 8. So her and finnick met while her mother was his stylist in the games. They became friends and caught feelings when they were 16. She was one of the only person who knew the truth about his “many lovers” and she was there to help him through it. They started dating when they were 19 and when they were 21 (just after the 72nd games), they were able to sneak Hannah back on the train with them into district 4. The capital tried to get her back, but since this was great publicity and stuff, they just left it because it wasn’t as important and they could also profit off their relationship, as well as also continuing to see finnick. So I was thinking you can write something pretty recently after Hannah arrived to district 4, so maybe at first people don’t really like her because she’s privileged and from the capital, so maybe finnick tries to reassure her. And maybe you can do some cute things where they have a romantic walk along the docks and maybe it can end with them playing in the water after Hannah fell in.

I just thought it’d be something cute

We Remain [F.O]

Finnick Odair x reader

Word count: 2.7K

Warnings: Snow's a motherf*cker so yeah, he did awful things to Finnick

A/N: Very first request! hope you like it hun. My box are still open for request! English not my mother language so please let me know if something's wrong. Enjoy!

"So, what are you doing here?" Finnick sat down next to you on the thick warm sand startling you by his sudden arrival. You had been sitting on the shore of the beach for a couple of hours now and Finnick kept watching you from the dock not wanting to interrumpt your thoughts.

He knew you were not comfortable in his district. You told him how much you loved the ocean, seeing the sun reflected on the water in the mornings and the beautiful view from the lookout point, yet there was something that didn't make you feel at home.

You slumped your shoulders as Finnick slipped his arm over them giving you a small smile. Your eyes focused on the calm, deep blue sea in front of you. The sun was about to set creating strange shapes in the remaining waves and you kept your gaze fixed on them trying to find them some form.

Finnick sighed pressing you against him. Your body trembled from the closeness which made him smile. Finnick was damn cocky and he loved the effect he had on you. He kissed your hair waiting for his question to be answered. You closed your eyes, shaking your head.

"I...I was thinking."

"About what?"

"About home. I mean...in everything that was left behind."

Finnick nodded thinking you must miss your district terribly. You were born and raised in the capitol thanks to your father winning his games, but your home was always district one. Even if you never saw district one in your life, the stories your parents told about it created in your mind a sense of having a place where you truly belonged.

Your parents raised you to hate the hunger games. It wasn't a tradition, it was a massacre, a terrifying event that disgusted them and they didn't want you to grow up believing that taking children to the reaping every year and watching them die in a bloodbath was what was meant to happen, so, at their peril, your parents managed to get your name out of the urn every year to save your life permanently.

Then, when your mother became the stylist for the winner of the 65th hunger games everything became easier. You met Finnick and he became a protective shield against the capitol. He was only fourteen when he won the games so Finnick spent most of his time at your house in the company of your father. Then in the following years Finnick became a mentor to the new tributes and your father was always by his side creating between the two of you a very strong bond.

Sometimes, when he spent the nights at your house he escaped from his bedroom and went to yours just to talk sitting in your bed while you were eating snacks. You told him about district one and how much you would like to visit there someday and he told you how wonderful district four was and how he spent his evenings before he was the brightest star in Panem. Almost every night you met to talk and when he turned sixteen he stopped knocking at your door.

At first you didn't understand why he stopped visiting. No calls, no texts, no explanations why he didn't come to your house anymore. Until one day, as you were taking a walk downtown you heard the insidious gossips around him.

"Did you enjoy your night with Finnick Odair?" a woman asked another as they enjoyed a warm evening at the diner. Your footsteps stopped behind them feeling your heart skip a beat as you heard Finnick's name on her red lips. The woman let out a giggle waving her open hand next to her face trying to cover her blush.

"He's amazing! Oh my god, dear, it's... it's splendid. Really, he's worth it."

"What does he want in return?" the other woman asked. You felt your face turn green with disgust.

"Secrets. A very good one. One that will trace your path to the stars..."

You walked away from there as fast as you could avoiding remembering the words of those two women. For god's sake, Finnick was only sixteen, he was a kid and he was leading an adult life. It was disgusting. You came home with tears in your eyes and your breath hitching. Your mother squeezed your shoulders but you couldn't speak, you were too confused for that. You mumbled something your mother didn't understand and you ran off to your room not noticing that Finnick had met with your father that afternoon and was watching you from the open door of your dad's office.

Tears streamed down your face as you closed the door. You were speechless. Finnick had left you aside after sharing so many late night talks in his company, so many smiles and so many dreams only to lead a life like the rest of the people in the capitol. The glory and the power had finally brought out the worst in him and you couldn't hate the capitol any more than you already did.

You heard a couple of knocks on your door followed by a "(Y/N), are you okay?" from Finnick's voice. Your cries subsided waiting for him to leave, but that didn't happen, instead he persisted until he heard a response from you.

"I'm fine" you replied with a broken voice. You imagined Finnick frowning.

"Are you sure?" he asked. You listened as he tried to turn the doorknob, but you had locked it in "I saw you coming. I was talking with your dad about some stuff and i thought something had happened to you, may I come in?"

"No!" you replied. Your tears threatening to come out again "I'm-I'm fine, okay? I don't need you. Go away."

Finnick was silent for a moment, nevertheless, he kept trying to turn the knob

"(Y/N) let me in."

"didn't you hear me? I want you to leave. Now."

"Not until you open the door."

"You'll stay there, then"

"If that's what i have to do..."

You walked to your bed sitting on it crying silently. Your heart was aching. Deep down you felt something was going on between you and Finnick, something that went beyond the friendship you both proclaimed, but the blindfold had fallen off your eyes as you listened to those women talk about Finnick like he was a piece of meat. You didn't know what was going on, you didn't understand it either and Finnick was just there playing innocent. Finnick turned the knob one more time.

"Well, this makes me think you don't trust me enough like I thought you did."

Crying gave way to annoyance to that point. You jumped to your feet, glancing towards the door imagining Finnick's contracted face on the other side

"Look who's saying it."

"I don't understand."

"Stop pretending, Finnick"

"I don't know what I'm supposed to be pretending" His voice sounded so calm it made you rage. You walked over to the door "I just want to know what happened so I can help you. That's what friends do, isn't it?

"So we're friends now? After you left without explanation we're friends? We're friends even though you didn't tell me what the hell were you doing with your oh-so-many-lovers?"

Finnick was silent for a long time making you think he just left, but then you heard a deep sigh and the creak of the wood as he leaned his body against the door

"So you know it."

You frowned, opening the door with a smash taking him by surprise. Your eyes were bloodshot from crying and pent up anger. Finnick had never seen you so upset

"So you know it, that's all you're going to say?"

"I can explain"

"Then it's true. What I heard..."

"No, no" he denied walking into your room closing it with his foot. You walked backwards trying to get away from him. Finnick knew about the rumors about him in the capitol, he never cared what they were saying about him, but he did care about what you had heard and how you might miunderstand it "It's true. What you said..."

"You're sixteen, for God's sake!" you shouted, disgusted "How-how can you...?"

"It's not how you're imagining it. They're making me do it."

"Yeah, right."

"It's true" Finnick answered approaching you and caressing your cheeks. He connected his eyes with yours and you managed to see a crystalline layer in them "It's true, (Y/N)"

"What?" you asked, horrified. Finnick closed his eyes, pursed his lips and nodded "But how? who?"

"President Snow."

"Why?"

"He'll kill my family if I don't do what he asks."

Your mind went blank. Finnick opened his eyes pearly with tears.

"But, you don't have a family."

Finnick smiled.

"You are my family" Your heart raced "Ever since my games...you and your parents became an important part of my life. You've given me a home, a place where I know I'm welcome, a place where i know all of you don't care what I am, but what I was before I was a victor and what's left of me since then. Snow threatened to harm you and your parents."

"Really?"

"Really. He knows how important you are for me" His breath collided against your lips in a stormy closeness "There is no one I care more about. That's why I had to accept. It's not easy for me, I hate what I became, but I had no choice (Y/N), I swear"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Finnick took a few steps away, ducking his eyes.

"I was too embarrassed. I still am. At some point I would have told you, of course, but I wasn't... I wasn't ready, I'm still not."

"Finnick..."

"I'm sorry for disappointing you."

He tried to leave your room but you stopped him squeezing him in a tight embrace that take your breath away. Finnick squeezed your body tightly lifting your feet off the floor.

"You didn't have to" you whispered. He denied

"I have to and I will. I'm not going to let them hurt you or your parents. What happens to me doesn't matter as long as you're safe."

"God, Finnick, I love you so much."

You broke apart instantly, you were so embarrassed by what you had just said and Finnick were shocked in surprise. Your cheeks grew hot and you were about to run away if it wasn't for Finnick's lips that pressed against yours in a small kiss. Finnick smiled

"I love you too."

.

Even after you confessed to each other you couldn't have a romantic relationship, at least not in public. Finnick had to continue obeying Snow's orders and you tried not to interfere to damage him even more, so the only ones who knew about you were your parents and Maggs, Finnick's old friend.

He came back to visit you at night in your room, you talked about anything that came to your mind (except about Finnick's many lovers) and, one night, he told you every secret he knew.

"Why are you telling me all this?" you asked him, watching your intertwined hands. You were both nineteen at the time and the secrets Finnick had obtained were too many. He smiled

"No one lives forever" he replied "Someday the advantage I have against Snow will turn against me and if that ever happens I need someone else to tell the truth for me"

"That's not going to happen"

He shrugged his shoulders

"You never know"

.

When Finnick saw the opportunity to leave the capitol after the hunger games where the tributes from district twelve put on a show and unleashed the wrath of President Snow, he didn't hesitate twice in proposing to take you with him to district four.

He put together a plan to hide you on the train until you passed district three where you were out of the president's reach. You weren't sure if it was a good idea, but your parents encouraged you to run away saying it was the safest place you could be. You were still unsure about it because you knew that your parents' lives would be in danger if Snow found out, however, your father assured you that they would be fine, the capitol wouldn't touch them and you could leave with Finnick and start a new life. You accepted then, sneaking onto the train that left for district four the next morning.

Of course, Snow was informed of your scape weeks later when you and Finnick managed to successfully settle in a house away from the victors' village. Neither of you wanted to live under the government roof and Finnick took a small place near the coast, where you received an unwelcome letter from the president asking you to return immediately to the capitol before the consequences became severe. Finnick replied for you, saying in a single paragraph that he didn't agree with that.

"I have a mind full of secrets. It doesn't suit you for me to become an open book. (Y/N) won't come back and neither will I."

Snow calmed down. Finnick seemed very pleased by that and things calmed down a bit. But there, in the utter calm of the sea, you still felt something was missing.

Finnick rubbed your arms as the sun went down and the moon appeared. The days in district four were too hot and the nights too cold, it was hard to get used to the change, even more so when no one in the district seemed to feel comfortable with your presence.

You could tell by the looks of the women on the shore and the angry faces of the fishermen. For them you were an intruder, a privileged one who had never had to suffer what their children did every year during the reaping cause your father, being a victor, had saved your ass. To them you were a coward, a disgrace and a pest who shouldn't have made it all the way to district four.

Finnick kissed your temple enjoying the silence of the newly arrived night. You sighed thinking about how much Finnick lost when he met you. His freedom, his decision about his body, the affection of the people in his district, his home in the village and so many other things you didn't want to remember. Finnick clicked his tongue, rubbing your arms again.

"Stop thinking, love."

"I can't. This all feels like a dream, a very... devastating one."

"You know what people think or don't think about us is something you can't change."

"Yes, but I would like to show them that I am more than they think, I am more than the daughter of someone who survived the hell of the games. Let them know that my presence doesn't represent a mockery to their dead children in the arena, that I am not a bad person."

"And you're not. Give them time. They're not bad either. They are against the system just like us, at some point they will realize we are on their side. Don't worry about it, I won't let anyone minimize you or make you feel bad. I'm going to protect you, okay? That's what we do, protect each other."

"You promise?"

"I promise. Now come on sweetie, let's take a walk" Finnick lifted you up easily taking your hand to walk across the sand. Finnick's hand against yours brought you security and a relief you couldn't explain. As you walked you rested your head on his shoulder and he hugged you close to him "We'll be fine, (Y/N), just... trust me"

"As always."

"Fair enough."

Then Finnick pulled your hand into the cold water of the sea splashing you in the face. You played back at him and the two of you ended up having a little fight in the middle of the sea. Finnick reached over, grabbed you around the waist and brushed your lips together.

"We'll be fine," he said. You nodded

"We'll be fine."

[plus-size-reader]

Engaged

Not Really Goodbye pt.2

Peeta Mellark x Plus size!reader

Word Count:1692 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Peeta having to explain his engagement to you, the woman he loves

Part 1

——————————————————————————————————

Marrying Katniss hadn’t been Peeta’s idea.

Quite frankly, none of this was his idea to start with; not pretending to be together, lying to everyone he cared about, not getting engaged, not going on the tour. It was all stuff he’d been dragged into without even meaning to.

Unfortunately though, that didn’t make it any easier to explain the whole engagement thing to you.

This whole thing was too complicated to just break down, too dangerous to get out of, and even if he wanted to try, Peeta knew the truth. It was too late to get out now, no matter what he did.

Still, it would break your heart, just as it was currently breaking his.

Ever since the two of you were children, you assumed that you would end up being together. You had been inseparable all your lives, never going too far without the other, and your mother often joked that there were no better friends in the world.

That much had always been true.

It wasn’t until you got a bit older that you started really thinking about the possibility that there may never be no two people better suited for one another than you and Peeta were.

He understood you in a way that no one else ever had and being with him was as easy as breathing. By this time in your lives, you were sure that you would end up married, living on a farm somewhere.

Though, clearly, you’d been a fool to believe that.

News of the engagement reached you and the rest of the districts before Peeta and Katniss could even make it back, which meant that he couldn’t explain. All you could do was listen to the broadcasts and try to put the pieces together yourself.

Naturally, it hurt to imagine that everything you’d come to believe was a lie. However, you weren’t shocked that he would rather marry her.

She was incredible.

In all this time since he’d been whisked away to compete in the games, you could see just how much they had bonded. The games were broadcasted all over Panem and you would have had to have been blind to miss it.

Not only was Katniss a fellow victor, and the only other person who had shared experiences with him, but she was also stunningly beautiful and wonderfully strong.

It was something you could have never hoped to compete with.

You only wished, in your wildest dreams, that you could be like her if not for yourself than for his affections.

You wanted nothing more than for Peeta to look at you in the way that he looked at her, like the world started and ended with her, like every action from her could halt his existence entirely.

She had a power of him that you foolishly thought you had, before he went off to the Capital, but that was never going to happen.

You knew Peeta well enough to know that.

That was exactly why, when he did show up at your door trying to explain, you turned him away. If he loved her, and she made him happy, then you wanted him to be with her.

You didn’t want him to feel the need to apologize, which you assumed he was trying to do when he showed up outside your house.

Knowing Peeta, he just didn’t want to hurt you, didn’t want there to be any hard feelings between the two of you. If that was all he needed, there was no need for you to talk it over, you understood exactly what was happening.

You knew a man in love when you saw one, and you didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

For whatever reason though, Peeta was adamant over what he wanted. He wanted to explain himself, and he needed to talk to you. This was all a huge misunderstanding, and he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if he didn’t tell you the truth.

...And, at a certain point, you knew that you were going to have to hear him out. At the end of the day, you cared about Peeta and whatever it was that was so important, you knew that it wouldn’t hurt to hear what it was he needed.

“Peeta, I already told you, I get it” you huffed, opening your door to find him standing there again, waiting for the off chance that you would come out.

You had no idea what he was thinking, but there was one thing you knew for sure. He was going to freeze to death if he stood out here any longer.

“No, you really don’t. Please just let me explain” he begged, hoping that for the third time, you would hear him out. He just kept coming here, asking to see you, and each time he was met with the same answer.

Either you weren’t home, or you weren’t going to answer.

“Come in” you sighed finally, opening the door wide enough for him to pass through. It was clear that he wasn’t going to let this go anytime soon.

You were doing your best to just save face, to keep him from seeing how much it had upset you, but you had started to accept it. You were coming to terms with what it would mean, with the fact of the matter, Peeta was going to get married.

Peeta was going to get married, and he wasn’t going to get married to you.

That was just what was happening and there was no use fighting it. If you could understand that, you didn’t get why it was so hard for him.

It seemed simple enough.

“Katniss and I are getting married, but it isn’t because I want to” he grumbled, rubbing his hands together lightly as he started to explain, doing his best to gather his thoughts. It wasn’t until he was in the heat of your home that he realized just how cold it had been, the warm air nipping at his skin.

You nodded, having heard this all before. You felt like you knew, felt like you understood what was going on, but Peeta was far from finished.

This wasn’t about him and Katniss, it wasn’t about a wedding, this was about the two of you and nothing more.

“What are you talking about? Why would you be getting married if you don't want to?” you asked, sitting down beside him on the couch, trying your best to wrap your head around what he was saying.

It didn’t make any sense to you.

For what reason, other than the fact that you loved someone, would you get married? Besides, you saw the way he looked at her while they were in that arena, you knew that he must love her.

That was all you needed to be married.

That was more than most of the people of twelve had and they made it work. Your relationships were formed mostly for survival, and in a desperate attempt to form some kind of life with what you’d been given.

“This is bigger than it seems, but I promise I can explain” he tried, gingerly resting his hand on your knee as he tried to make this work. You weren’t sure that you believed it, but it wouldn’t kill you to give him a chance to make you believe.

So, you settled in for one of the most complicated stories of all your life. Evidently, the events of the games, and what had happened in the capital, was bigger than you could have ever assumed.

It was bigger than both of you.

The more Peeta explained, the more you put together in your head, the more you understood. Of course he had to marry her, if he didn’t, there was no telling what Snow would do.

He had already threatened all of Katniss’ family and you were sure that he’d done the same to Peeta.

There was a chance they would kill you, if this didn’t go the way they wanted, and for Peeta, that was the worst thing that could happen. In all your lives, he’d only ever really had you and if something happened to you, he’d have nothing left.

You were the one. You were the one who came to check on him the night before the reaping, who combed his hair on the day of so he would look nice. You were the only one to come see him before he left for the games.

Every time he needed someone, it was always you there, waiting for him.

If he didn’t have you, Peeta didn’t have anything.

He hated the idea of doing this, of getting married to a woman who wasn’t you, of putting you through this but in the big picture, it was better than losing you. It was better than having to go through life knowing that you died because of a choice he made.

Having to do that would kill him.

It was difficult enough that the two of them had to lie to the world, that he and Katniss didn’t really care for one another in that way. Adding another element, or another person, in your case, would be far too much.

He hated this, but if it was what he had to do to keep you safe, Peeta wasn’t going to apologize for that. You were too important to risk, for any reason.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, I really am. I just don’t have a choice” he huffed, using up all his breath in a hurried attempt to get everything he needed to get out before you started drawing your own conclusions.

...But you didn’t need him to say sorry.

You understood why he was going to do it.

Backing out of the wedding could end all of your lives and as much as you loved him, nothing was worth that. Similarly to Peeta, you figured that a life without him, knowing that he was alive, would be better than one where he died trying to be with you.

It was hardly a fairy tale, but real life rarely was.

[yandere-sins]

Bad Decisions

[My Commission Info] | [My Ao3] | [Ko-Fi]

I was again commissioned for a companion piece to this one! This time from the reader’s pov and some backstory. Thank you ♥

Characters: Ignatz Victor (Fire Emblem: Three Houses) x Reader Words: 3401 Warnings: Yandere, Obsession, Mentioning of stalking, Mentioning of War/Death/Blood

You could still remember the first time you met him vividly.

Taking a seat on the ledge above the training grounds, you heaved a long breath, trying to calm your racing heart. If only you could have put this energy into training more, instead of using it as a reason to take a break, but your legs felt wobbly just from thinking about getting back up. For the better of the last three weeks, you had trained and studied tirelessly. Being granted the chance to attend the academy of your dreams was no reason to slack off, and you were thankful for the opportunity you were given. 

But… rubbing your sore legs and feeling your feet pulsate in the tight leather boots as they finally got a break, you had to admit that it was more challenging than you expected. Even though you had built up stamina and muscles before coming here, you were still met with the instructors’ high expectations for their top-tier students. Day in, day out, you were either on your feet and training or with your head in the books studying. No wonder it felt so draining when all you did was pressure yourself more and more on being perfect and prepared for all that would come your way. After all, your expectations of yourself far exceeded the ones anyone had in you. 

“It’s tough, isn’t it?” a timid voice called out to you, and you turned your head towards it, a flask with water being held out in your direction. Surprised you took it, finally getting a look at the person behind the voice. A young man, not much older than you, smiled at you friendly, his glasses tilting a little from him leaning forward. Without waiting for your reply, he pointed at the space next to you, asking, “Mind if I join you?” and you shimmied to the side to allow him to take a seat.

“Swordsmanship isn’t my strong point either. I keep forgetting where to put my feet,” he laughed bashfully, rubbing the back of his head. He appeared friendly, approachable, and kind, but his physique was on the weaker side, making his struggles a tad obvious. Nonetheless, you weren’t one to judge someone based on appearance, and taking a sip from the water flask, you felt yourself be soothed by the refreshment. Having spent so much time holed up in the library or handling weapons hadn’t given you a lot of chances to make friends, so having someone be so kind and nonchalant around you genuinely made you happy. 

Handing the flask back to him, the young man gladly accepted it. His shirt had stains of polish and sweat on it, and you realized he must have come from training himself just like you. You wondered what year he was in, or if he was a classmate you just never noticed. 

“Sorry, that was weird, wasn’t it? Approaching you so out of the blue. I’m Ignatz. Ignatz Victor, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

Though his name didn’t ring a bell, you shook his hand out of respect. Even if it started out a little awkward, you two soon fell into a comfortable conversation as you shared your weak points, and so did he. Your words weren’t forced out, and you started to relax around him. At the same time, Ignatz laughed and smiled at you, putting you at ease as well. Perhaps you two were more alike than it appeared at first glance, and thus you were relieved to find someone like-minded. 

At that moment, you didn’t find him approaching you so weird anymore. More so, you were relieved to have someone accept you so openly and interact with you, who had been rather lonely up to this point. Part of you had always wanted to make friends in the Monastery and hang out with them, and this was the closest to it you had come. It was also refreshing to have someone to talk to, and as it turned out, Ignatz was able to lift your mood significantly with his input and suggestions as you spoke about your everyday life at the Monastery.

“Come,” he prompted, jumping down the small ledge and standing before you. Holding out his hand to you gallantly, he waited for you to join him back on the training grounds with a kind smile. You didn’t feel pressured to join him. Instead, you wanted to join him, agreeing that it might be good to not cool down too much. 

“Let’s see if we can help each other,” Ignatz laughed, and perhaps, for the first time since you arrived, you let out a chuckle. Taking his hand and letting him lead you back to where the weapons were, you agreed with an enthusiastic, “Okay!”

It wasn’t a friendship you expected to have, but with every passing day, you felt yourself growing and thriving from it. With Ignatz by your side, new things were opened to you. He took you out in the city and showed you around the fields. His interests sparked new ones in you, and soon enough, you weren’t caught in that somber life you had built at the Academy before. Having someone to motivate you and lift the burden on your shoulders with a clever and upbeat nature made you strive for more and greater things. He picked you up when you were down and in a slump, helping you to enjoy your time much more than you did when you still struggled to find your place. Time passed on, and you two still stuck together. Everything was going so well.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

It was the little things that made you nervous. The glances that lingered too long, the hand next to yours on the library table whose pinky kept touching yours. Goodbye hugs that were too tight and eyes that tore away from anything just to look at you. Ignatz’s unfinished paintings that he never worked on again once his attention shifted to you instead, making you feel bad for the waste of paint, and the tests he seemed to flunk because he only ever cared for your lectures. 

Somehow you were glad when he wasn’t allowed to change classes. This way, you’d have at least a little bit of privacy since he wouldn’t let you go train alone, even if you told him you had a different sparring partner this time. It had started out so innocently. You were just two people who got along well and spent a lot of time together. But now, roughly three months since you came to the Monastery, you wondered if there was anything else going on.

By now, you had made new friends and then lost some, but you found the courage to join clubs and help the student council because Ignatz had been with you all this time and supporting you. Without him, you probably wouldn’t have had the success you achieved, and while you were glad for such a good friend by your side, you slowly felt like you were drowning again. Not drowning in work and insecurities like in the beginning, but drowning in Ignatz’s presence in your life. 

Truth be told, you wanted to spend some hours alone every now and then. With everything going on, you searched for ways to relax and destress from the buzz of the day, and not always did you wish for company that, frankly, made you anxious. Even if it was hard to pinpoint - perhaps because part of you wished you didn’t have to pinpoint it at all - something about Ignatz felt off. 

There were off-hand comments about your life that he shouldn’t have been familiar with. Finding out about your extended family was weird, but you thought it might be registered somewhere that he could have stumbled upon. However, when he brought up your favorite toys and books from before you had joined the Academy, you raised an eyebrow. His mentions were so casual and woven into conversations that it was sometimes hard to find them, but when he also started to talk about the days you spent apart from him in the Monastery, you knew something was up.

Part of you only wanted to believe he might have a crush on you.

Sure, as sweet and positive as he was, Ignatz still occasionally tended to be clumsy and awkward. It was always easy to forgive him for a wrongdoing as he’d apologize and learn from his mistakes, though, so you never worried much. Still, it seemed like he tried to get even closer than he was to you by following you around and checking on you more often than not. It might have been pleasant and cute at first, but you had to admit you were beginning to be creeped out by his obsessive observation of you, knowing even little details like your toilet breaks or what you had for lunch. 

Perhaps it was just his way of trying to tell you how much he cared and wanted to be with you. But what if it wasn’t?

The thing he didn’t realize was that the more he pushed himself on you, the more you wanted distance from him. It had been a harsh realization, one over which you lost sleep for a few nights. Because how would you be able to make it clear to the person who had supported you all this time, kept you company, and helped you through everything, that you wanted to have a break from them? Perhaps, a few days or a week. Maybe it would stop the negative feelings you had about him if only you wouldn’t interact for a while. At least, that’s what you hoped.

Waiting in front of his classroom, you picked at the skin around your fingernails nervously. Class was already dismissed, but you could see Ignatz talking with the teacher, his back turned to you. It was taking a while, but you had to do it. Better now than never. If he had feelings for you, he had to realize he wasn’t showing them in a way you were comfortable with. And if he genuinely liked and appreciated what you two had, he’d understand your request for a break as well. 

It was nerve-wracking to wait for him, but eventually, you heard his signature laugh as he waved goodbye to the teacher and turned to leave, sorting his papers for a moment before he noticed you. Anxiously, you lifted your hand in a greeting, and Ignatz’s eyes widened and began to shine amorously, a broad smile curling his lips. He was so happy to see you that he quickly ran up to you, almost colliding with some passing student. But he didn’t even care, only coming to a halt right in front of you. 

“Ah, I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” was his first response even though you two hadn’t actually made an appointment with each other. Ignatz stood closely to you, almost enough so that your chests would touch. It was a kind of forced intimacy that made you uncomfortable. Still, in foreknowledge about what you were going to drop on him shortly, you allowed it. 

“Actually…” you mumbled, looking around in hopes that the crowds would start to dissolve. “I’ve got something to tell you. But maybe not here?” 

Ignatz’s expression only grew softer as he heard that, and you wondered what he thought you were going to tell you. Nevertheless, he softly pulled you by the hand and into the small garden next to the classrooms. Sure enough, there weren’t as many students here as most took after-class activities or went to the training grounds instead, and it made you feel better. Breaking his heart in front of everyone was an embarrassment you didn’t want to put Ignatz through. 

“So, what’s up?” he laughed, happy as ever, but he had yet to stop holding your hand, which you pulled away from his for him instead. 

“Ignatz, it’s just…” 

As expected, it was hard to form the words in your mouth. There were too many accusations on mind that you didn’t want to hit your friend with, but how else were you supposed to tell him? Something had to come to mind now, preferable a reason that wouldn’t ruin your friendship. Ignatz looked at you expectantly, as if he was hoping for a confession rather than a break announcement, but you simply didn’t return those feelings of his.

“I wanted to talk to you about us, and--”

Just when you finally managed to bring up the courage to confront him, a voice behind you called out to Ignatz, who - reluctantly - looked away after his name was called out a second time. “Byleth wants to talk to you!” a student you didn’t know announced to Ignatz, and you bit your lip.

Just your luck.

“I will go after--” Ignatz tried to argue, dismissing the call, but you gave his arm a pat to get his attention, quietly releasing him to go. 

“It’s not that important anyway,” you assured him. Like a liar. “We can talk about it some other time.”

“Are you sure?” Ignatz questioned, furrowing his brows. You could see his honest disappointment in not hearing the words he was desperate to receive from you in his eyes, but you just nodded. “Of course, we can always talk about it later!”

Reluctantly, he looked back to the student who was waiting to lead him back to Byleth before he sighed. “Okay, I’ll be quick. You can tell me after that!” 

“S-Sure,” you mumbled, forcing a smile on your lips, and Ignatz reached out his hands, squeezing each arm comfortingly as he saw your awkwardness. Finally, he passed you by, not without having his eyes on you until he really couldn’t anymore, and off he went. Just like that, you had missed your chance to tell him, and with it, all the courage you had built just for this moment.

Just before he turned the corner, Ignatz stopped, and your eyes met for a split second. “I’ll see you at training later?” he asked, sounding worried. You gulped before nodding, and he went on his way with a tender smile playing on his lips. It was the first time you really didn’t want to go train since you came to the Monastery. Just sit out for the day, and maybe, forever, so you wouldn’t have to see him.

In the end, you never got around to tell him. Before you knew it, you were busy with your duties and studies. Even though Ignatz’s behavior continued, you didn’t have the time to give it your attention. 

Then it happened. The event that would change everything in your life and everyone else’s.

And the tragedy ensued.

As you carried yourself through the forest, colliding with countless branches and thorns in your way, you felt so frustrated. It all could have been different, but now that you chose this path, it would be the one to die on. If only you had told him your feelings back then. If only you had made an effort to hold him back and fess up. Then nothing like this would have needed to happen.

Your hands were stained with the blood of your friends and comrades. The same ones you spent the best months of your life with. The ones that helped you get proficient enough to kill them and the ones that begged for mercy as you gave them a quick death. And yet, because you never told him to back off, you had never been able to make the same cut with Ignatz. He had been the beginning and the end, the reason you had survived for so long and the reason why you were now deserting from the fraction you swore your fealty to. 

Goddess, you were pathetic. 

Secretly, you had always known this. No matter how hard you tried to cover it up, you weren’t a genius or especially well-raised like the others at the Academy. You didn’t even have a title to defend, and you chose the side that seemed less risky when it was time to decide to whom you gave your loyalty. All the efforts you had put into your time at the Monastery had been the only thing you were good for - working hard and diligently. But you weren’t cut out for these heavy burdens. 

And you couldn’t kill the only true friend you ever had when it was most crucial to do so. 

Your whole life could have played out differently. You could have asked to be moved to another frontier in the countryside. Maybe you’d have died at some point, but at least you wouldn’t have to meet all these people you once loved and admired, seeing them die one after the other. Or maybe you should have just given up and let Ignatz do the deed, at least so you didn’t have to hear the words you always dreaded. He had utterly taken you aback with his confession, and you felt even more confused and appalled than back in school. 

Hearing him confess his love, you simply couldn’t fight him anymore. 

It was wrong. Wrong to run, both from your duties and Ignatz, but it had been the only thing you knew how to do. You never learned any better, never stood up for yourself in any choice you made. Following instructions and orders was all you could do, and even if you tried to do something on your own, you’d always end up needing to rely on others. Plagued by these thoughts, it only pained you more when you heard Ignatz shout behind you, realizing he still wasn’t going to let you go.

“I looked up to you! I needed you, and you needed me! And yet, you betrayed us! And yet, I only liked you more!”

Yes, you needed him. You needed someone to save you when you were lost. But right now, you needed anyone but him to take pity on you. Anyone but Ignatz to tell you what to do. You needed to decide on your own what you were going to do from now on!

A sudden push tore you out of your thoughts. You had come so far and almost reached the other end of the forest, but the saving light disappeared in front of your eyes, replaced by the dirty ground as you crashed down. Frustration, pain, fear - all of it caused tears to collect in your eyes. The weight of Ignatz’s body on top of you made you struggle against him, the last effort to escape the clingy obsession he had with you. 

“I love you! I love you so much, don’t ever leave me again!” he yelled, his face contorted in pain as if he was the person going through a lot. What expression were you making? It satisfied you to see the disgust visible in your face reflecting in Ignatz’s eyes, hoping he’d get the hint. Twisting and turning your wrists, you hoped it would cause him to let go, but his grip only tightened the more you moved.

Out of sheer willpower, you managed to lift your pinned down right hand to his face, scratching and fighting against him. But alas, he kept you where he wanted, making you wonder where he managed to gain so much muscle strength to do it. He looked different now, but all you could see was the nice guy who first approached you at the training grounds, a weak but chipper young man. And yet, perhaps because of the war, or maybe you simply never noticed it before, the aura of madness was all that surrounded him.

It was just like back then. Ignatz was the one who took the decision about your life off you. It was a slow, painful realization, your screams being covered by the ones on the battlefield, and your tears disappeared in the dirt beneath you. You’d never have the last word in your life. Someone would always come to take it away from you. Maybe you were just not meant for it, but there was nothing more terrible you could imagine than not being the master of your own self. 

Bad decisions led to this outcome. But how could you have known back then, when Ignatz was a wolf in sheep’s clothing?

[bloody-bee-tea]

Vision

Jiang Cheng tries his best to appear unaffected, but going by how skittish his disciples are around him, he’s not quite managing it.

But Jiang Cheng can’t help it; it’s the first time since Lotus Pier burned and he rebuilt it, that another Sect Leader is coming to visit and Jing Cheng feels like he’s being tested.

He doesn’t like that feeling one bit.

Jiang Cheng straightens up, when the first disciple comes into view, because he’s going to excel whatever test this is, and if it’s going to kill him. 

“Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang calls out when they are still a good distance away, but Jiang Cheng can still see how Nie Mingjue rolls his eyes at his over-enthusiastic brother and a tiny part of Jiang Cheng relaxes. Their relationship is a bittersweet-familiar one and Jiang Cheng thinks if they are just here to check in on him, then he can do this.

“Nie-zongzhu,” Jiang Cheng greets Nie Mingjue, bowing low, because even though they are both Sect Leaders now their status couldn’t be more different.

Yunmeng Jiang barely escaped extinction while Qinghe Nie came away as the victor of the Sunshot Campaign, despite the losses they had to endure.

“So formal, Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang complaints and his brother cuffs him over the head for his troubles.

“At least he remembers his manners,” Nie Mingjue says with a sigh and slightly shakes his head when Nie Huaisang makes puppy eyes at him over his fan.

“We’re old friends, there’s no need to be this formal,” Nie Huaisang whines and something in Jiang Cheng goes warm and pleased to hear that Nie Huaisang still considers them friends, even after everything that happened.

“Jiang-zongzhu, please excuse my brother,” Nie Mingjue tells him, overly formal and stiff, but there’s a teasing glint in his eyes and Nie Huaisang puffs out his cheeks in mock outrage.

Jiang Cheng has to bite back a laugh at that, and when Nie Huaisang whirls around to him, he at least pretends to be serious.

“Let me show you to your rooms, you must be exhausted after the travel,” Jiang Cheng says, remembering his manners and starts to lead the Nie delegation towards the guest quarters.

They haven’t been one of his priorities during rebuilding Lotus Pier, but when Nie Mingjue’s formal request of a visit reached him, Jiang Cheng had done his utmost best to get them ready.

He does not want anyone to complain about his hosting skills; besides hurting his pride it would seriously damage the image of his Sect and truth be told, they can’t take much more.

They are barely scraping by as it is.

“It almost looks the same,” Nie Mingjue says suddenly when they are halfway there and Jiang Cheng stiffens. “I heard everything burned down?”

“It did,” Jiang Cheng presses out and he tries to see Lotus Pier with Nie Mingjue’s eyes, but all he can see are the smouldering remains of what used to be his home.

No matter how he rebuilds it, in his mind it will always be the new Lotus Pier. And no matter how he tries to make it look the same, there are subtle differences. Enough of them to make him wonder what his parents would say of it; what his sister and Wei Wuxian would say of it.

Jiang Cheng thinks at least his mother would scold him for not remembering his home correctly and doing such a piss-poor job.

“You did a great job rebuilding it,” Nie Mingjue tells him and Jiang Cheng works his jaw.

“Thank you,” he gets out.

“Did you do a lot of the construction work?” 

“Of course I did,” Jiang Cheng stiffly says. 

Mostly because there was no one else around who remembered how Lotus Pier used to look like, but also because Jiang Cheng would never only order his disciples around. If he isn’t willing to do something, how can he ask the same of his people?

“Would you like to compare notes later? I did a fair share of construction in Qinghe myself and there are not many Sect Leaders I can talk to about this. Jin Guangshan is not known to get his hands dirty like that,” Nie Mingjue says, and Jiang Cheng can feel the rage bubble up inside him again.

How dare Nie Mingjue say this; how dare he imply that Jiang Cheng’s work isn’t up to par, that he’s lowering himself to do the dirty work. It’s hitting a very vulnerable part of Jiang Cheng, because his father used to say the same whenever Jiang Cheng was quick to help people rebuild after a flood or another disaster.

His mother only ever watched him with piercing eyes, but his father was of the firm believe that they had disciples for this exact reason.

And to hear these similar words out of Nie Mingjue’s mouth now makes his blood boil with anger.

But Jiang Cheng can’t afford to offend Nie Mingjue and Qinghe Nie, so he forces a smile on his face.

“Sure,” he says, aiming for a light tone, but going by the small frown on Nie Mingjue’s face he doesn’t quite manage to do that.

“Jiang-xiong, are you alright?” Nie Huaisang asks, flicking his fan open and moving it in a nervous gesture.

“Of course I am,” Jiang Cheng gives back, because he can’t afford to be anything else.

Not with reconstruction still going on and especially not with Jin Ling being at Lotus Pier at the moment.

Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang share a look at that, one that makes Jiang Cheng’s skin crawl, but he clenches his jaw and simply shows them to their quarters. 

He can’t afford to make a mess of the situation, so he swallows all of his rude remarks down and bids them a farewell once he’s sure they are situated.

Jiang Cheng flees and then spends the rest of the afternoon trying to get himself back together. He appointed his most trusted disciple to keep an eye on the Nie delegation, in case they need something and so he spends his time pretending that he’s not vibrating out of his skin with nervousness about this visit.

The first day passes without another incident, and on the second da Jiang Cheng almost feels like himself again. He spends breakfast with the Nie’s, entirely unremarkable except for Nie Huaisang’s incessant shatter and Nie Mingjue’s fond eyerolls, and then he leaves for the training grounds.

He might have to entertain guests, but he’s still the Sect Leader and since they are still in the process of building up again, there are not enough disciples who could reliably teach the new ones. 

It’s just one of the many things Jiang Cheng has to oversee himself, so he’s standing at the side-lines, watching his disciples in their training fights.

There are a lot of different styles, since he simply picked up any willing cultivator he could find and while it looks chaotic, it certainly has its merits.

At least the Yunmeng Jiang will always be unpredictable, Jiang Cheng thinks when he watches one of the kids he picked up on the street go for the hair of her opponent.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” Nie Mingjue suddenly says from beside him and Jiang Cheng stiffens.

“Sect Leader Jiang was my father,” he gives back, because it still feels wrong to be addressed like this.

“Jiang Wanyin, then?” Nie Mingjue asks his eyes never leaving the training disciples. 

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng agrees and he sees Nie Mingjue nod from the corner of his eyes.

“Nie Mingjue, then,” Nie Mingjue tells him and while it feels so wrong to address Nie Mingjue this casually, Jiang Cheng nods as well.

He keeps his gaze trained on his disciples, hoping that Nie Mingjue will get bored and leave, even though he should offer some entertainment to him, but Nie Mingjue stays where he is.

“They have an interesting fighting style,” Nie Mingjue eventually says, almost offhandedly and Jiang Cheng tenses again. 

He has a snappish reply on his tongue, but then his attention is brought back to one of the disciples who make a grievous mistake with the sword and Jiang Cheng is walking up to him, before he can consciously decide to do so.

The disciple tenses in apparent fear, seemingly ready to accept Jiang Cheng’s scolding, and he does scold. A lot. And then he shows the disciple how it’s done right and from that point on it just goes downhill because everyone keeps asking him about this technique and that form and before he knows it Jiang Cheng was roped into giving a lesson.

And all the while Nie Mingjue stayed at the side-lines, silently watching them.

“Apologies,” Jiang Cheng says when he finally manages to get away from his disciples. 

“No need,” Nie Mingjue easily says. “You’re good with them.”

Jiang Cheng snorts bitterly at that, because he knows that more than half of them are deathly afraid of him, like the old disciples were of his mother, and the other half barely has the respect for him that he deserves, but there is nothing he can do about it. 

It is what it is, he just doesn’t need Nie Mingjue to rub it in even more.

“Let me show you around Lotus Pier,” Jiang Cheng says instead of saying something biting, something that he will regret later, and as if on cue Nie Huaisang materializes next to them.

“I would love to see everything!” he exclaims, not so subtly elbowing Nie Mingjue into the side and Jiang Cheng frowns as he wonders what’s that all about.

“Yes, that would be—nice,” Nie Mingjue says and the delay is noticeable enough that Jiang Cheng can tell that he does not care to see Lotus Pier at all.

Still, he has appearances to hold up, so he dutifully shows them around and with Nie Huaisang’s excitement it’s almost not awkward at all.

“I’m sorry we’re taking up so much of your time,” Nie Mingjue says when Nie Huaisang ran yet again to another stall and Jiang Cheng shrugs awkwardly.

He wants to ask why exactly they are here, but he really does not want to hear that this is an inspection and so in the end he stays silent for so long that answering would be awkward.

So instead he points out one of his own favourite stalls and it seems to be enough for Nie Mingjue to relax, because his shoulders slump and Jiang Cheng hadn’t even realized that he was so tense.

It seems that even if this is an inspection Nie Mingjue is also in great need of some relaxing downtime himself and even though they just came out of near extinction, even though they are barely scraping by, the Yunmeng Jiang always knew how to have fun.

“Come,” Jiang Cheng tells them out of the blue and leads Nie Huaisang and Nie Mingjue towards one of the outer piers. 

They can hear laughter and yelling before they even get close and both Nie’s seem rather intrigued by that. 

When they finally come into view of the people playing in the water, they stop and Jiang Cheng gives them some time to catch up on the game rules before he speaks again.

“You’re free to join them if you want,” he says and while Nie Huaisang’s eyes go wide Nie Mingjue smiles at him before he reaches for his belt, clearly content to let his clothes drop right where they stand, like the other disciples as well.

Jiang Cheng did not calculate for that at all and he hurriedly averts his eyes from the new stripe of skin that Nie Mingjue reveals.

“Do you have many games like this?” he asks as he gets off his shoes and Jiang Cheng tenses again.

He wonders what it is about Nie Mingjue that always so easily hits him where it hurts; to imply that they do nothing but play is a blow Jiang Cheng is not sure how to deal with. It brings back memories of Wei Wuxian, whining at him to join them in their game, and of his mother’s cutting voice berating him that an heir shouldn’t spent his time with useless play like this.

But before Jiang Cheng can figure out how to reply to Nie Mingjue, Nie Mingjue already jumped into the water, clearly ready to get right in on the fun, and Jiang Cheng is left with Nie Huaisang on the pier.

“Da-ge doesn’t get enough fun,” Nie Huaisang says from behind his fan. “Being Sect Leader is so demanding and it’s good that he gets to enjoy himself a little here.”

Jiang Cheng bites back on the words that being a Sect Leader is not supposed to be fun, and instead he only awkwardly shrugs, making Nie Huaisang frown at him again.

“Why don’t you join them as well?” Nie Huaisang asks with a curious glance and Jiang Cheng scoffs.

“Not all of us have the time to play around like this,” he bites out and when he sees Nie Huaisang flinch Jiang Cheng turns away from him.

“Feel free to roam Lotus Pier as you see fit, there will be people around to answer your questions,” Jiang Cheng tells him, head held high and then he simply marches off.

He’s aching with the want to join his disciples in the water; he misses playing around like that. But he knows that the moment he would start to shed his clothes people would stop, would stare, would freeze in fright and it’s not untrue what he told Nie Huaisang; he does have too much to do to simply slack off like this.

When evening finally falls, Jiang Cheng is bend low over paper work. His eyes are burning and his back is aching, but he can’t stop yet. There are still piles upon piles on his table and if Jiang Cheng doesn’t make a dent in them soon then he might as well drown under them.

“Sect Leader,” one of his disciples suddenly speaks up from the door and Jiang Cheng turns bleary eyes on her.

“What?” he snaps and then immediately winces.

It’s no wonder everyone here is afraid of him.

“It’s young master Jin,” she says apologetically, but Jiang Cheng is already on his feet.

“What’s wrong with him?” he asks, the worry already settling in his gut.

“He’s been screaming for the last half hour. I think he misses you,” she says with a small smile and something warm replaces the worry.

At least Jin Ling is too little to fear him yet.

“I’ll be right there,” he promises, and hurries to finish up the letter he was working on before he makes his way over to Jin Ling’s room.

True to her word, he’s screaming at the top of his lungs, and now that he hears this Jiang Cheng can’t help but to worry again. What if it’s something more serious? He rushes inside the room and immediately snatches Jin Ling out of the arms of his disciple.

“It’s okay now,” Jiang Cheng says, more to Jin Ling than to her. “I have him now.”

“Alright,” she says with a bow of her head and immediately leaves him to it.

“What’s wrong, little one?” Jiang Cheng softly asks when Jin Ling continues to scream but he seems to react to his voice, because the cries get a little bit softer. “I’m here now, there’s no need for you to make such a fuss, brat,” Jiang Cheng whispers, his voice fond, and Jin Ling really stops crying.

He blinks up at Jiang Cheng with his big eyes and then simply snuggles deeper into his embrace.

“There you go, it’s not that bad after all, is it?” Jiang Cheng says, mostly so that he has something to say, because his voice does seem to relax Jin Ling.

Jiang Cheng continues to whisper nonsense to him, until he’s sure that Jin Ling feel asleep and only then does he dare to put him down in his crib.

Jiang Cheng holds his breath once he lets go of Jin Ling, but the boy blessedly slumbers on and Jiang Cheng lets out a soft sigh.

He would never say that it’s a chore too look after his sister’s son, but it is time consuming; and Jiang Cheng doesn’t have much of that even without caring for an infant.

Jiang Cheng knows that he should get back to his paper work immediately, that he shouldn’t stay and linger and simply stare at Jin Ling, but it’s another handful of minutes before he can tear himself away from him.

When he steps outside of Jin Ling’s room, Jiang Cheng immediately tenses when he sees Nie Mingjue leaning against the wall.

“What are you doing here?” Jiang Cheng snaps, but he’s still mindful of the sleeping Jin Ling and Nie Mingjue shrugs.

“I came to find you, but your disciple told me to go here,” Nie Mingjue easily says and Jiang Cheng vows to have words with that disciple.

“You’re good with him,” Nie Mingjue says with a nod towards Jin Ling’s room and Jiang Cheng clenches his jaw.

He knows he’s not good with Jin Ling, barely knows enough about kids to not kill him immediately and he still hears the whispers from Jinlingtai, how he’s bad for the kid, how he’ll corrupt him, how Jin Ling will turn out as angry and cold as him and it’s all too much for Jiang Cheng to take right now.

“Fight me,” he presses out through clenched teeth and when he sees the way Nie Mingjue lights up at that, the anger turns into cold rage.

He brings them to one of the more remote training fields and then he just waits until Nie Mingjue has Baxia ready. Jiang Cheng doesn’t hesitate to bring out Zidian as well as Sandu and then they are off.

It’s a vicious fight and the first time since the war that Jiang Cheng doesn’t hold back. Nie Mingjue has no problems parrying Sandu, but he seems at a loss with Zidian and Jiang Cheng takes shameless advantage of that, though he does keep the electricity running through it to a bare minimum.

He doesn’t want to kill or permanently injure Nie Mingjue after all.

Still, Nie Mingjue is a force to be reckoned with, and while it’s clear that he too is struggling, there’s a smile on his face that only enrages Jiang Cheng further.

Their fight goes on for longer than Jiang Cheng expected, Zidian singing and Sandu clashing with Baxia, but in the end Nie Mingjue tackles him to the ground.

When Jiang Cheng’s back hits the ground, his breath leaves him in a rush and his vision turns black for a moment, before stars appear everywhere.

Jiang Cheng blinks up at the sky, trying to get his lungs to work properly again, but it still takes him an embarrassingly long time.

In the end Nie Mingjue seems to tire of waiting for him to compose himself and he holds out a hand to him.

“You’re a good fighter,” Nie Mingjue says, just as Jiang Cheng is about to reach for his hand. “And you wield Zidian almost better than Sandu,” he tacks on, and Jiang Cheng goes cold.

He wouldn’t have minded this much, before—his mother never did after all—but after what happened with Wei Wuxian, after everyone came after him for not using his sword like he should, it leaves a bad taste in his mouth now.

“What do you know,” Jiang Cheng snaps and slaps Nie Mingjue’s hand away, getting up out of his own strength.

“Jiang Wanyin?” Nie Mingjue asks with a frown and Jiang Cheng squares his shoulders before he faces him again.

“Don’t tell me I fight well when I just lost and don’t ever imply that I am favouring Zidian over Sandu ever again,” he hisses out and when he sees Nie Mingjue’s surprised look on his face, Jiang Cheng quickly turns away.

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue calls after him, and the informality stops Jiang Cheng in his steps. “I haven’t had a fight like this in a while. Not many people can hold out against me for as long as you did. Of course you fight well. And I didn’t mean anything with my comment about Zidian; it’s a spiritual tool and you wield it well. That’s all,” Nie Mingjue explains, almost awkwardly, and Jiang Cheng wants to leave, he really does, but he’s rooted to the spot.

“Is that the problem?” Nie Mingjue asks and it sounds like he came closer, though Jiang Cheng didn’t hear any footsteps. “Have I offended you all this time without knowing?” Nie Mingjue wants to know and Jiang Cheng lets out a hard breath.

“I’m not lowering to do the dirty work when I help with rebuilding,” Jiang Cheng says bitterly, even though he knows that’s what everyone thinks.

“Of course not,” Nie Mingjue immediately says. “And that wasn’t what I meant. I really do help with construction every now and then, if my time allows for it. It’s hard work, but also rewarding. I really hoped to compare notes with you. It’s not like Jin Guangshan would ever lift a finger to help any of his disciples like that so I don’t usually have someone to talk to about this.”

Jiang Cheng gives a short nod at that, and then he figures he might as well lay it all out. It’s almost easy, now that he doesn’t have to face Nie Mingjue.

“And when you say my disciples have an interesting fighting style?”

“It’s just that. Interesting. The Yunmeng Style is very clearly still there, but they are not as rigid as before. It’s good to see them fall back to the things some of them clearly learned on the streets. It won’t make that much difference against a monster, but if they ever have to fight another cultivator or something with sentience, it will give them the upper hand. It’s a good thing.”

“The game?” Jiang Cheng whispers, now thoroughly embarrassed by how low he thought of Nie Mingjue and how easily believed he was just here to insult him.

“We have a few with balls, but none in the water. I never saw such a game and I was simply curious if there were more. I’d like to try them all, the last one was fun,” Nie Mingjue says with a chuckle even though he thoroughly lost that game, as Jiang Cheng learned.

“And Jin Ling?” Jiang Cheng asks.

“I just meant that you’re good with him,” Nie Mingjue gives back and Jiang Cheng can almost imagine him shrugging. “He clearly loves you if he settles down by just hearing your voice and you didn’t get impatient once. You clearly love him as well.”

Jiang Cheng takes a shuddering breath when Nie Mingjue falls silent and he finally turns around to him.

“What do you want from me? Why are you here?” he asks, because for all that it has been a few days he still doesn’t know why Nie Mingjue is here.

“I thought I made that clear in my letter,” Nie Mingjue says with a frown that only gets deeper when he sees Jiang Cheng’s confused look. “I’m here to see if we’re compatible. If a courtship between us might work out.”

“You’re what?” Jiang Cheng blurts out and before the frown on Nie Mingjue’s face can get any deeper Nie Huaisang appears at his side.

“This might be my fault,” he admits, tipping his fan against his mouth and seemingly not at all bothered when both Nie Mingjue and Jiang Cheng turn incredulous eyes on him.

“Explain,” Nie Mingjue grumbles and Nie Huaisang gives him a winning smile.

“I stole that page of the letter,” Nie Huaisang says with an easy shrug and Jiang Cheng is so confused he doesn’t even know what to say to that.

“Why would you do that?” Nie Mingjue asks as he pinches the bridge of his nose, but he doesn’t seem angry and Nie Huaisang seems to know that very well.

“Because I know Jiang-xiong and if you had written anything about a courtship he would have clamped right up and then you’d get nowhere,” Nie Huaisang cries out and Jiang Cheng goes red in the face, because Nie Huaisang might not be wrong.

“Huaisang!” Nie Mingjue yells at him, but Nie Huaisang only hides behind his fan and blinks his big eyes at Nie Mingjue.

“I’m sorry?” Nie Huaisang asks, but Nie Mingjue shakes his head.

“No, you’re not,” he heaves out with a sigh. “Go scram before I make you practice your sabre,” Nie Mingjue threatens but when Nie Huaisang laughs Jiang Cheng knows that it’s an empty thread.

“Alright, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang says and promptly dashes away leaving Nie Mingjue and Jiang Cheng in uncomfortable silence.

“I’m sorry about him,” Nie Mingjue eventually says, but Jiang Cheng shakes his head, because there’s only one thought in his mind.

“Courtship?” he asks, because he cannot wrap his mind around this as all and he was not prepared to see Nie Mingjue blush like that.

“See, this is why I wrote it down,” Nie Mingjue grumbles. “It’s easier when it’s written down.”

“Mingjue, courtship?” Jiang Cheng asks again, because it still doesn’t make any sense at all and Nie Mingjue sighs again.

“Yes, Wanyin, a courtship.”

“Between us?”

“Do you see anyone else? Did I go visit anyone else?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng simply sits down on the ground again, because of all the reasons why Nie Mingjue could have come, this possibility didn’t enter Jiang Cheng’s head even once.

“You must be joking,” Jiang Cheng whispers and then tenses when Nie Mingjue simply sits down next to him.

“I assure you, I’m not,” he says.

“But then you surely must have changed your mind by now,” Jiang Cheng tries next, because there is no way in hell that Nie Mingjue, esteemed fighter and Sect Leader, would still want to court him after he saw what a mess Jiang Cheng is.

“Between praising your fighting, your way with Jin Ling, your disciples and your construction work, where do you think I changed my mind?” Nie Mingjue shoots back and Jiang Cheng goes still.

“Were you just giving me meaningless compliments?” he asks and that thought suddenly hurts more than he expected.

But if Nie Mingjue had an ulterior goal in mind then of course he’d praise Jiang Cheng. And of course they would all be hollow and empty words.

“Do you know me to be like that?” Nie Mingjue wants to know. “If I don’t like you, then I’ll say so. If I do like you, then I’ll say that as well.”

“You don’t like Jin Guangshan and you never said that to him,” Jiang Cheng gives back, his mind still spinning.

“Oh, rest assured, he knows I loath him. No need to say it out loud,” Nie Mingjue easily gives back but then he falls silent. “Huaisang was right, wasn’t he. You’re totally clamping up on me.”

Jiang Cheng flushes again at that.

“I mean, who wouldn’t? Courtship? With me?”

“With who else? You’re a hero of the Sunshot Campaign. You rebuild your Sect, you’re parenting your sister’s son and you’re not cowering before anyone. There’s much to admire about you, Wanyin.”

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng breathes out as he hides his face in his hands.

“I will if you give me an answer, Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue says and the way he says Jiang Cheng’s name sends a shiver down his back.

“Can we—how long are you going to stay?” Jiang Cheng asks instead of giving him a concrete answer but Nie Mingjue doesn’t seem to mind that much.

“I can squeeze in a few more days,” Nie Mingjue says with a shrug. “Why?”

“I think—I’d like you to stay for a while longer now that I know why you’re here,” Jiang Cheng gives back.

He can’t quite agree to a courtship just yet, but he thinks he’d like to spent more time with Nie Mingjue, especially now that he knows what he wants from him.

“Sure,” Nie Mingjue easily replies and he doesn’t seem to mind Jiang Cheng’s lack of an answer much.

Nie Mingjue doesn’t behave any different in the next few days either, but at least now Jiang Cheng knows to simply accept the things Nie Mingjue says without searching for a hidden meaning behind his words and since Jiang Cheng knows that this is not an inspection but something completely different he can actually enjoy spending his time with Nie Mingjue.

So much so that when Nie Mingjue eventually has to depart, Jiang Cheng has a courtship gift ready for him.

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