#you know when you always had a limited lifespan. and then you fell in love. and then both of you have a limited lifespan 😁👍

[gyrovagi]

romance is a grey warden and their blighted wife 👍 (i am smiling but i look extremely pained)

[hbyrde36]

Honey, You're Familiar

Written for the @strangerthingswritersguild Hozier Project

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

WC limit: 3000 | Song prompt: From Eden by Hozier

Rating: G | WC: 2998 | also on ao3

Steve and Eddie had been best friends since The Beginning. 

From the moment angels were blinked into existence, in a flurry of wide powerful wings and otherworldly beauty, they were inseparable, happy, right up until God made something new. 

Humans.

Curious creatures with souls and hearts capable of a full spectrum of emotions, given the one thing angels had been denied. 

Free will. 

Eddie hated them. Part of their job as angels was to watch over these new creations, but the more they watched, the more withdrawn Eddie became. 

He claimed God favored them, these beings who hardly knew of divine existence and whose lifespans were so short they barely mattered in the grand scheme of things. Steve disagreed, arguing that God didn’t play favorites, and surely, even if They did, the angels who’d been gifted with power and immortality were the preferred children. 

They debated about it– a lot, until friendly arguments turned into shouting matches. 

Was this anger?

This unpleasant thing that served no purpose except to make Eddie fly away from him in a huff. Was it sorrow that made his friend’s eyes shimmer, his lips turn down in that awful way? 

Eddie was changing, and Steve didn’t know what to do. He much preferred the days when they could laugh and smile together. It always left him feeling warm inside.

“You envy them.” Steve accused one day when Eddie was especially prickly. “Why? Is it not enough to be as you are and live here in Heaven with God? With me?”

“No! It’s not enough!” 

Eddie’s hands wound into his own hair and pulled, as if he’d tear it out from the root. “Why do they get the freedom to form such relationships? Why do they get to have it, and I don’t?!”

Steve tilted his head, perplexed. “To have what?”

“Love!”

“But, you do.” Steve said, still not understanding. “God loves us, and we love Them.”

Eddie sighed mournfully, all the fight draining out of him at once. “It’s not their love I ache for, Steve.”

It was no surprise when Eddie sided with Lucifer in the war and consequently fell from Heaven. Steve was there when it happened, forced to bear witness to the first and greatest loss he’d ever known. 

He was… sad, when Eddie was gone. 

Steve tried to pretend otherwise, but whenever he was alone and he thought of how he would never see his friend again, his eyes leaked and he would feel a terrible pain in his chest. 

Was he broken? 

He hadn’t thought angels were capable of such sentiments, but that couldn’t be true. Eddie’d had these things, feelings. They were what led him on his doomed path.

It was possible, it just wasn’t allowed.

He did his best to go on as before. It was difficult, nearly impossible sometimes, but it all became easier when a new flock of angels was made to replace their numbers, and Robin came barreling into his life. 

Part of him wanted to resist, to keep the space next to him forever empty, preserving the memory of who’d been there before, but he’d been alone for so long. 

Robin grew on him, and they quickly became close. While she could never replace Eddie, their friendship went a long way in filling the hole losing him had left behind. 

They complimented each other well. Where Steve was quiet and contemplative these days, Robin talked almost constantly. Not one to sit in silence, she always preferred to fill it. 

Just like Eddie. 

They were quite alike actually, Eddie and Robin. Steve couldn't help thinking that if they’d ever met they would’ve become fast friends, or killed one another. 

Things were ok for a while, Steve managed, until he was sent to Earth for the first time. He begged Robin to come along, nervous to walk amongst the humans when he’d only ever watched from afar, but she wasn’t allowed. 

Guardian angel for a day. An easy job, mostly watching and waiting, ensuring his charge remained safe. In all likelihood, he wouldn’t even be needed. 

The human in question was a kind older man, who ran a small coffee counter in a park, in a city Steve couldn't remember the name of. He ordered a drink and took a seat, doing his best to go unnoticed.

He observed much over the course of the day. Joyous reunions and somber goodbyes. First kisses and last kisses, and not one but two chance meetings where sparks flew. It was a magical thing to see someone find their soulmate. 

Steve returned to Heaven with a heavy heart. 

It'd been a very long time since their last conversation, but he could still hear Eddie’s voice… how resigned it had sounded, how devastated, when he’d looked at him and said “It’s not their love I ache for.” 

Finally, he got it. Eddie had loved him. 

Steve loved Eddie too, though he hadn’t realized it back then, so caught up in what they were supposed to be. He’d witnessed it up close now, love. Recognized it and the power it held, even as it made the wielder feel powerless. 

It was agony. 

Unable to hold it in anymore, he told Robin. 

It was probably the most words he’d ever said to her at once. He didn’t mention Eddie’s name, or admit whether the object of his desire was angel or otherwise. He didn’t want to rebel, but he couldn’t continue on as if nothing had changed. Couldn’t live the lie anymore. He was supposed to love only God, and it simply wasn’t true. 

Robin said he should talk to God, convinced that They had grown softer since the fall. Steve wasn’t so sure about that but he trusted her, and had little choice.

Thankfully, she’d been right. God was understanding, in Their way, and not wishing to see Steve so unhappy decided to gift him– a chance.   

He didn’t know what it meant, and that was as ominous as it was thrilling. It had felt a little too easy, in the end. All he knew was he was bound for earth, and as he prepared for the journey he could only wonder what the catch would be.

Steve woke up feeling like he’d been having the strangest dream. He couldn't recall the details apart from a beautiful boy’s face framed in soft dark curls, but wasn’t that always the way? 

He hopped out of bed with a spring in his step. It was a big day, the grand opening of his and Robin’s new coffee shop and he couldn't wait to greet their first customers.

Eddie cut ties with Lucifer shortly after the fall, uninterested in trading one leader demanding blind faith and allegiance for another. 

He was still a demon, technically, as were all who fell, but although he hated humans, he had no desire to harm them. 

He wasn’t evil, he was angry. 

At them, at God, even Steve, but mostly at himself. 

He’d let his feelings overtake his sense, and in his effort to fight for more he’d somehow wound up with less, only managing to get himself banished– sent as far away from the one he loved as it was possible to be. 

Eddie didn’t spend much time on Earth, still too bitter. He wasn’t exactly welcome in Hell either, but over the years had found his fair share of quiet corners to inhabit. 

He kept in touch with some others who’d also refused to follow Lucifer as he made the transition from fallen angel to Devil. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant. They became friends, of a sort. Kept an eye on eachother, gave warnings of trouble on the horizon, and a heads up about other interesting goings-on.

Which was how Eddie found out about the first time Steve set foot on earth. 

He’d gotten rip-roaring drunk once, on a rare night where all the boys were together in one place, and spilled his guts about Steve.They teased him a little, but only in good fun. They’d had their own motivations for taking up the cause and agreed love was as good a reason as any.

When Gareth came by to say an angel had been spotted in Central Park who bared a striking resemblance to his Steve, Eddie panicked. He’d been existing as if he’d never see the angel again, because he’d honestly thought he wouldn’t, and spent many long years pushing it all down, pretending he didn’t care anymore because it was the only way he could function.

Suddenly it all came rushing back to the surface, his heart becoming a gaping wound, open to the world all over again. 

He wanted to go to him, of course he did, but it’d been eons since they last spoke. Would Steve want to see him? Would he care? Even if he did, what would it matter? 

It would change nothing.

Deciding it would be more painful to see him now and lose him all over again than to never see him at all, Eddie buried his head in the sand. By the time it hit him that regardless of the pain he’d regret not going forever, it was too late. Steve was gone, nothing but an empty cup of coffee on a table to prove he’d been there at all. 

When fate conspired only days later to give Eddie a second chance, he knew he couldn’t waste it.

He’d gotten an address from Jeff and had to huff a laugh when he spotted the place. A cute little indie coffee shop. Was Steve the fucking coffee fairy now or something?

The front of the cafe was a wall of windows, and Eddie’s heart skipped a beat as he spotted Steve through the glass. He froze with his hand on the door, unsure if he was ready to face whatever was about to happen. 

Steve stood behind the counter next to a girl with a mischievous smile, laughing raucously at something she’d said. His eyes shone bright, and he was as beautiful as Eddie remembered– though he did miss the way his wings had framed his body. A pity angels weren't allowed to use them down here. 

Just when Eddie was building his resolve to finally go inside, Steve turned and their eyes met. The angel’s smile fell, mouth twisting into a curious expression, a wrinkle forming between his brows. 

He’d been prepared for a number of reactions, for Steve to be happy to see him, or angry and hating him, but he was wholly unprepared for Steve to look at him like that– as if he didn’t know him at all.

Eddie fled.

He didn’t run far, taking refuge in an alleyway across from the shop, well-versed in hiding in the shadows by now. 

He watched for days, unable to leave while Steve was near, but just as unable to approach him again.

In the evenings he would follow Steve home, never knowing where the girl went. Robin, as her name tag said. One second she'd be there and the next, poof, but Steve always walked to a small apartment where he’d spend the night hours alone before leaving again early the next morning.

What was he doing?

Who was his charge? 

Eddie had assumed it was Robin but the more he observed the more convinced he became that she was an angel too. 

None of it made sense. 

It all came to a head one night when he was lurking in his spot waiting for Steve to walk by, and found himself getting bodily thrown into a brick wall. A figure stepped into him, her small hand strong and firm around his throat, skin glowing ever-so-slightly with heavenly power.

Eddie raised his hands in the universal gesture for, I come in peace, and finally Robin let him go.

“What do you want, Demon?”

“I prefer Eddie, actually.”

She smirked, raising a single eyebrow. “Eddie the demon? What, you didn't want to come up with some fancy new name like all your buddies?”

They weren’t his buddies, not the demons she was referring too anyway, but she wasn't likely to believe that.

“Never been one for conformity, I guess.” Eddie grinned, stifling a laugh.

Understatement.

“Seriously, why are you watching him? What are you planning?”

“Nothing, just… looking in on an old friend. I swear.”

“Sure, you and Steve used to be friends. I’m supposed to believe you're not here to ruin his chance, attacking an old ally turned enemy now that he’s vulnerable?”

“What do you mean?”

She narrowed her eyes, considering him carefully.

“You actually don’t know, do you?” She backed away, looking him up and down. “You came to the door that first day, but never came inside. Why?”

“The way he looked, I… don’t think he remembered me.”

She snorted a laugh. 

Which Eddie did not appreciate. “Jeez, way to kick a guy when he’s down.”

“Sorry.” She said, not sorry at all. “Look, it’s nothing personal. He doesn’t remember anything. He’s human now.”

“What?! Why?”

Robin shrugged. “He wanted more. He loved another before God and They took mercy on him, sent him here for a chance at a different life.”

“Who?” Eddie gasped, reeling.

“Who, what?”

“Who did he love enough to leave Heaven for?”

“What do you care?!” She sneered, throwing her hands up. “Y’know what? Don’t answer that, It doesn’t matter. Not even I know who it is, and I'm his best friend.”

Best friend.

Eddie deflated. Had Steve replaced him so easily?

Robin plowed ahead, either unknowing or uncaring of the pain she was inflicting. “I know your kind. You’re bad news. If you really were friends before, if you ever cared about him, you’ll leave him alone.”

Eddie tried to go back to his life, such as it was. He wandered the underworld aimlessly, plagued by thoughts of Steve.

Was it Eddie… that he loved?

Was he okay? Was he happy? Was he safe? He was so vulnerable now– to sickness, and injury. Shit, humans dropped dead from heart attacks all the time!

Eddie could deal with it before, knowing he was out there somewhere, even if they couldn’t be together. But now… now Steve would grow old and die one day, and he couldn’t take that.

The idea of living forever in a world where Steve no longer existed was intolerable.

He went to Lucifer.

It was a long shot, he knew. He’d abandoned his de facto leader long ago, but back in the war Lucifer had been fond of him and Eddie hoped against hope that their history would help his case now. 

The former angel all but laughed in his face. He held no such power, not that he would ever grant Eddie’s wish if he did. 

“What a waste that would be,” the Devil had said, still holding out hope that someday Eddie would break and join him. 

Desperate, he returned to the coffee shop, taking up his old post, and waited for Robin to confront him.

As she stalked angrily into the alley, he hurried to explain. 

“I know what you’re going to say, but hear me out. I love him, Robin, always have. That’s why I fell. I was outraged at being denied this thing that humans were given freely to take for granted.” 

She pursed her lips. 

“You don’t believe me.”

Robin sighed heavily. “I can’t believe I'm saying this, but I do, actually.”

“Really?”

She pulled a scrap of paper from her pocket and handed it to him.

Eddie unfolded it with shaking hands, a perfect sketch of his face.

“I found this, along with several others. Apparently he’s been drawing them for weeks. Somehow, deep down, he remembers you.”

Tears poured down his face as he continued to stare at the proof of Steve’s feelings for him.

“Why did you come back here?” She asked.

“To beg you to take a request to God, plead my case… please.” 

“What for?”

“To make me human too.”

“Are you sure? If They agree to it you’ll be just like him, vulnerable, with no memory of who you were.”

“I know. I’ll just have to trust that we’ll find each other again.”

Eddie woke up feeling like he’d been having the strangest dream. He didn’t have time to dwell on it though, rent was due soon and he still hadn’t found a job.

He set out for the corner store to pick up a newspaper and found himself drawn to an adorable little coffee shop along the way with a help wanted sign out front. He knew the prices at a place like that were well out of his budget, but one look at the beautiful man behind the counter was enough to have him thinking– screw the budget. 

Besides, it couldn’t hurt to put in an application, even if he had no experience as a barista.

The man looked up as Eddie entered the empty shop, and their eyes met. There was something familiar about him. The man paled, eyes going wide. It was a curious reaction, but Steve, as his nametag read, shook it off quickly and forced a smile. 

“Good Morning, what can I get you?”

Gorgeous and the voice of an angel? Eddie was half in love already. 

He ordered the cheapest thing on the menu, a drip coffee, which Steve poured with shaking hands, cursing as a little of the hot liquid sloshed over the cup’s side, burning him. 

“You okay?”

Steve turned, offering his first real smile, laughing at himself as he shook his head.

Without a word he reached into his apron pocket and pulled out a small sketchbook, sliding it across the counter. “This is going to sound crazy, but I think I've been dreaming about you.”

Steve showed him then, page after page filled with drawings of Eddie's face. 

Eddie’s stomach flipped, suddenly realizing why Steve had looked so familiar. “I think I've been dreaming about you, too.”

As always, all my love and thanks to @penny00dreadful beloved friend and beta.

Also to @hitlikehammers and @theheadlessphilosopher for listening to me talk about this and reading it through as I attempted to parse this down from 3400 words to it's current form.

Some tags of those I recall expressing interest or i think might like this? (sorry if i miss anyone or if you didn't want to be tagged!): @griefabyss69 @pearynice @eriquin @cranberrymoons @momotonescreaming @kikidoesfanfic @brbsoulnomming @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium @hellion-child @dreamwatch @mentallyundone @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @vegasol

[yanderelovlies]

No and jack reacting to dragon MC? (MC that can transform, hibernates and has the abilities and lifespan of one)

Oooooh bet!

This fanfiction has a fantasy setting but isn't attached to any au

Since he has only lived in a lone village, he had no knowledge of dragons. He has only been taught to be terrified of them when they came to village. So he was surprised when one walked into the village one day looking more human like then he thought.

Besides the scales that cover what skin he could see, you also had a long scaly tail that you seemed to be extra mindful of when around people and wings that were always folded behind your back. When you did open your wingsit was usually away from people or when you left the village. Despite them looking leathery, they still looked gorgeous to him, and he could help but admire.

After a few months of your constant visits, not only did the tiny village get used to you, but he did as well. Enough to the point that he felt like he could approach you to not only get to know you, but your culture as well. Who knew he would falls so fast for you.

Sunny Day Jack

He just couldn't help it, though! Not only were you so kind and compassionate to those around you, but you held power and elegance that he had never seen before. He was sure how dragon courting was done, but with his limited research in the village, he tried his best.

He didn't have much to his name, but he wanted to prove to that he was serious. So when confessed to you, he gave you a gold necklace for your hoard and his promise to be the best mate he would be! Of course you accepted.

From there, it was truly a learning experience for him. After courting for a while, the two of you decided to move Jack to your cave so you didn't have to travel too far to see him. Not only did I see how amazing Hoard looks, but he saw your true foarm. A big beautiful creature. Yes, it startled him at first, but by the end of the night, he was sleeping besides your bigger warmer form, snoring happily.

He also learned that hibernation was the worst. Yes, you left him plenty of food and water to last through the cold months, but it was the fact that you're conscious to talk to. He still talked to your sleeping form, but with you hearing your beautiful voice, it wasn't the same. Once you woke he was attached to by the hip. He didn't want to be without you again.

The last thing he learned about was your life span. You were thousands of years older then and had plenty of stories to share. You shared it all with him, and he soaked it all up like a sponge. He was amazed by everything you had done up to this point. Only making him fall harder for you.

Bo

Your beauty and power amazed him. Bo prided himself as a strong man, but when he met you, he knew he was wrong. He could help but approach you. During your friendship, he was constantly asking you things about your people. The more he learned, the more he wanted to know. However, the more time he spent with you, the more he fell in love.

Early on, he had already asked you about courting rituals for your people. So once he knew he was serious about his feelings, he found the most precious stone he could. He presented it to you for your hoard and confessed his feelings. You practically see a tail behind him wag as he did so. You couldn't help but accept it.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, he immediately proposes moving into your cave with you. You were reluctant at first, but eventually, you agreed. It was nice having his energy around.

Thought there were many things he learned while talking with you. There were two things he didn't expect. Your true form and hibernation. Your true form startled him awake when he found himself under a huge and heavy hand. When he was able to break free, it took him a it to realize it was you. He sat away from you just admire your pure raw beauty in power.

Before hibernation rolled around, you did earn him that you would be asleep for months, but he didn't seem to mind assuring you that he would protect you. However, a month after not talking to you, he was getting upset. He didn't realize it lasted this long! No wonder you live so long.

Once you woke, he talked to you like an overly excited toddler while keeping tonyour side. You didn't mind thought after years of solitude felt nice to have someone actually miss you presence.

[lesbiansforboromir]

"Yet even so it was Gondor that brought about its own decay, falling by degrees into dotage, and thinking that the Enemy was asleep, who was only banished not destroyed. 

 'Death was ever present, because the Numenoreans still, as they had in their old kingdom, and so lost it, hungered after endless life unchanging. Kings made tombs more splendid than houses of the living, and counted old names in the rolls of their descent dearer than the names of sons. 

  Childless lords sat in aged halls musing on heraldry; in secret chambers withered men compounded strong elixirs, or in high cold towers asked questions of the stars. And the last king of the line of Anarion had no heir." 

Faramir's explanation for Gondor's ‘decline’ is... incoherent.. what the hell are you on about m’love?

The way this reads is so completely misleading when looking at the actual history and reasons for Gondor's receding borders and the loss of the watch on Mordor. Faramir puts the onus on Gondorian Kings wanting to live longer and not having kids... babe? Did you forget... the plague? Gondor WAS watching for activity in Mordor. For 1640 years! And then there was a plague so devastating that it turned the country’s most populous city into a near ghost town. It took 200 years for Gondor to recover, and even then it never truly reached the population levels it had maintained before. Osgiliath was never the same! And by then Mordor had taken the fortresses at the Morannon! 

There is absolutely no mention of Kings or Stewards who were desperately seeking to extend their life in Gondor’s history. Where are these tombs more splendid than the houses of the living? All the Kings not buried in Osgiliath are buried in the Silent Street... There is no mention of achingly elaborate tombs anywhere! 

There WERE however some Kings who did not marry or have children! ... Two, there were just two of them... out of thirty three. Narmacil I was Atanatar's son and reigned in the HEIGHT of Gondor's wealth. He essentially allowed his nephew Minalcar to run the country whilst he had a great time writing poetry and kissing men. And Minalcar did a really good job! He fought wars, he made alliances, he built the Argonath and when it actually came around to his time to be King, he had a nice and peaceful reign! And when his son Valacar wanted to marry a Northern Princess? Even though the worry in Gondor was that that would ‘weaken’ the King’s line and reduce their lifespan? He supported him! Gave his blessing! 

The other King who never married or had any children was Earnur! You all remember Earnur? Oh sure, he desperately wanted to extend HIS life past its natural limits! Fighting in two wars and then riding off into an obvious trap just because he'd been challenged really gives me a whole 'old man in his dotage fears death' vibe. And that was the ‘last king of the line of Anarion who had no heir’. You know WHY he was the last king? Because the King before his father Earnil II (King Ondoher) and his two sons had died! In a massive fuckall war with the Balchoth that nearly saw Gondor destroyed! PRINCE Faramir was TOLD to stay behind! But he was so anxious for his family and so wished to not simply sit and wait for death that he HID amongst the ranks of the Eotheod and went to war anyway!! AND DIED!! Asking questions of the stars??? Making strange elixirs?? Mused uselessly on heraldry??? WHEN? FARAMIR?? Was Ondoher daydreaming about stars and heraldry as he was cut down by a chariot??? Was Artamir brewing potions mid-battle?? WHAT are you talking about!!!

Where are these men fearing death who brought Gondor into it's decline that Faramir is talking about? Is he lying? No, I actually believe Faramir when he says he would not even snare an orc in a falsehood. The things Faramir says are things he believes. But then how, when he is so well known for his loremastership, can he be so misleading and plain wrong about something so basic to Gondorian history? Well I have a suggestion but it means Faramir’s at least a little homophobic so bear with me and I promise this is relevant.

So, obviously, the ups and downs of Gondor society in terms of queer liberation would be complex and rely upon a diverse number of factors. However, I’d say that, if you looked at an overall trend, it goes up in times of peace and takes a hit during times of strife. The basic reasoning for this is that one of the fundamentals of Gondorian society is the concept of doom and fate. This can give both correct and erroneous impressions of cause and effect throughout history. Gondorians tend to believe everything happens for a reason. And due to the (sometimes quiet but always present) elf-and-faithful-numenorean-ruled thinkers, who push ideas of proper marriage, celebacy, romance-superiority and other cis-het-normative agendas, the ‘reason’ that bad things happen is often blamed on the queer liberation of the times. The populace is open to being given reasons for bad things happening and Academia in Gondor is very much elf-revering, so it is often respected scholars who are pushing that narrative. 

HOWEVER, the queerness is rarely what is actually remembered or recorded in history, the wording of records are often bound up in the faithful numenorean rhetoric of ‘heretical kings’ and ‘they fell into the trap of king’s men ideology’ and so on and so forth. Scholars might understand what this means at the time, but it gets muddled further down the road and even academics in the future have trouble finding the intended emphasis. So! By the time we reach 3018 TA, the academic community as a whole has reached a general consensus that ‘the old sins of our past’ are to blame and that, whilst queerness was a part of it, it was more a symptom than a direct cause. 

So! The thought process I’m proposing for Faramir should be easy to guess at now, but I’m going to go more specific for the sake of... me uwu. 

GONDOR has not known peace for the last 500 years, not since Steward Denethor the first’s reign wherein the so called ‘watchful peace’ ended and Sauron returned to Mordor. NOW, before Denethor, his uncle Dior was the Steward and, as you’ve probably guessed, he had no children and nor did he marry. I would suggest that Dior lived through one of the most tolerant and open portions of Gondor’s history. I think he not only was open about his choice not to marry, but he also had a socially accepted partner and lived with him all his life with only a small, vocal minority voicing their objections. 

But then Sauron returned! And it was brutal, bloody and horrific. And that vocal minority saw an opportunity to use Dior’s life as a method to push Gondor once again into it’s regular crisis of conscience, faith and purpose. ‘We betrayed our founder’s’ and ‘We should have been ruled by Dior’s son but because of his weakness against his ill-fate we are doomed, he abandoned his duty! A pitiful fate but pitiful for us as well!’ And so on and so forth, there are reems of academic works written about it.

Now, this doesn’t have an immediate crushing effect on queer rights that one might fear. Denethor I loved his uncle dearly and would not hear a bad word about him, as did Boromir I! And Cirion? Cirion was almost more alternative than Dior. He sold off portions of land when the Stewards had been told to keep them IN TRUST for the king’s return. He made enduring and reciprocal alliances with the Eotheod ‘middle men’, he was very much anti-traditionalist! However, it was after his reign that Gondor truly felt the backlash of all this, spurred on by Cirion’s very alternative views, actions and methods. Because whilst he may have been an effective and charismatic Steward, Cirion had not found so much time to be a good father. And Hallas had been fifteen when his father had left him behind and ridden to war. He had a frightening and lonely childhood and was very open to the idea that his father was wrong, had gone too far, that things should be ‘brought back to normal’. Stability being key and all. The vocal minority had his ear. 

And since then, whilst opinion has still fluctuated, the constant unrest and simmering crisis of Gondor’s day to day has made progress against such concepts difficult and slow going. And it’s informed the opinion of history too, a lot more academic writing has compared Dior to Narmacil I (the first unwed and unmarried King) and has tried to find parallels between them and Earnur. Any explicit discussion of queerness has been relegated to Sindarin scripts (the language only really understood by academics and the upper classes), but the underlying tone is there HENCE! 

“falling by degrees into dotage, and thinking that the Enemy was asleep“ = Dior ‘abandoned his duty’ and Narmacil I ‘was indolent’.

“the Numenoreans still [-] hungered after endless life unchanging.” = A melding of heretical beliefs that occurred over centuries into one monolith that applied longing for endless life automatically.

“Childless lords sat in aged halls musing on heraldry; [-] compounded strong elixirs, [-] asked questions of the stars.” = This is all both reaching back to heretical practices in Numenor, whilst also harkening back to the periods of time in which Dior and Narmacil lived, peaceful times where more introspective and experimental pursuits could be indulged. 

SO! This is where Faramir’s erroneous and misleading opinions come from. And why he is at least a little homophobic. There, I told you all I’d get there. 

[solomonish]

breathe deep, breathe clear, and know that i'm here (solomon x reader)

When the tendrils of doubt start to wrap around you, how do you battle them when your new state of existence is entirely unknown?

ao3 link here!

CW: F!MC

When Solomon finally found her stumbling through the enchanted woods in a daze, he considered scooping her up in his arms and carrying her out of the forest, never to return. Every second spent away from her sent a sharp fear through his chest. Immortal as she was, she was not indestructible, and the creatures inhabiting the woods could be unexpectedly dangerous. Even with the experiences she's had with magic, there was so much she didn't know - there was so much ignorance that could still kill her.

Instead, he settled for running to her and holding her close, tucking her into himself tightly as if trying to force their bodies to meld. He could feel her tense, then relax, tremors taking over that he knew better than to comment on. As her shoulders heaved, Solomon couldn't tell if they were sobs or gasps for breath, but he rubbed her back soothingly anyway. Eventually, her hands weakly found purchase in the back of his shirt, and he placed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head.

Solomon didn't pull back until he was absolutely sure she had calmed down, and even then he took her hands in his and rubbed his thumb over Lucifer's ring. She was here, and as long as it was still on, everything was fine. Everything was fine.

Except everything was not fine. She insisted on staying in the woods until Solomon found the roots he was looking for, even after his protests and offers to leave. They walked hand-in-hand until nightfall, slowly traversing the uneven ground and looking for the small, purple flowers that marked their targets. They prepared to leave the forest with a sizable bundle of the plants, and as they crossed the final bridge, Solomon noticed MC stop and stare out over the ravine. The long shadows cast seemed to swirl with the unnatural fog settled within the cliffsides, so dark even the full moon couldn't permeate it. As silent tears streamed down her cheeks, he noticed those that fell, could.

"When will you get tired of me?" She asked, her voice small and shaking. The way she watched the fig beneath her, Solomon wondered if she thought it would swallow her whole, or maybe even hoped it would.

"What do you mean?" Tentatively, he inched closer to her. The simple suspension bridge swayed with his movement, but she didn't seem to mind.

"How many things have you gotten bored of before? How many pacts do you no longer call upon? Even some magic can't capture your attention sometimes." The sadness in her tone was palpable the more she spoke, eventually straining her voice so she could hardly push the words out. Solomon had heard pain in the voices of many, but it never hurt as much as it did to hear from her. 

Telling her how many of his pacts were one-time necessities or formed more as an impulse for more power seemed in poor taste. How many of his pacts did he make, knowing he wouldn't need them? How many demons were tethered to him, knowing they would never be called on by him again yet having to be ready just in case? Swallowing past the lump growing in his throat, he kept the questions to himself lest she think he'd ever string her along in the same way.

Of course she'd imagine magic to be boring for him when he's spent so long studying it. Even the more complicated, dazzling spells were familiar to him. But magic was ever-changing, and he was always finding something new about it to explore. Besides, he could never grow bored of magic when she was around to excite him.

Solomon didn't know how to articulate his thoughts. He just knew that he loved her, and he loved her so deeply it hurt. With still nothing coming to mind, he stayed silent. Oh, how he wished he had said something, anything to get her mind off of her own thoughts, just to share himself the heartache of hearing what she had to say. When she opened her mouth, she spoke with more conviction, looking up at him with wide, wet eyes and yet not a quiver in her voice.

"I can't think of anything I have that'll get you to want to stay."

The breath in Solomon's throat hitched for a moment. With her eyes searching his, he felt something like a criminal, knowing he had done something wrong and forced to wait for a punishment he knew would be inevitable. His silence seemed the trial, and after a moment, her face fell and she looked away. Caught between wanting to bring her gaze back to him so he could repent and not wanting to see her desolate face, Solomon only stood in place dumbly.

Giving a bitter laugh, she shrugged as if she could shake off her burdens. "I mean, you shouldn't have to pick up everyone else's discarded pieces. And against angels and demons, and even other sorcerers, I really don't compare."

Hadn't he thought something similar? During the exchange program, when he realized he was one of what seemed like a thousand people competing for her affections, he thought he knew how it would play out. He wasn't a demon, who's hulking form, unnatural charm and eerie good looks could haunt her for her entire life. He wasn't an angel that could offer her paradise and unquestionable love. All he was was barely human, the only pieces of himself she could ever like hidden behind centuries of masks and non-answers. 

When she chose him, took his hand proudly in front of all the brothers and defended her choice, he thought for sure his starstruck face and the brothers' envious stares were enough to drive home how intensely her attention was sought after. But to hear her worry over the same things - to wonder if she was replaceable when he was the one with ten people lining up behind him, ten people he knew would never let her go - was enough to force his heart to crack right down the middle.

"I'm not built for immortality, Solomon." Looking down, she fiddled with the ring on her finger as two teardrops fell on the back of her hand. He could hear despair gripping her, and he felt powerless to battle it away. "I don't want to do this alone."

Finally, he felt he could move and he took her in his arms again, holding her close to him protectively. Though he knew it to be impossible, he hoped he could block any more doubts from finding their way to her, as if his arms alone could be a shield. As he looked over her shoulder, he saw the many spirits weaving between the trees, curiously watching the intruders on their home from behind the branches. He swore he saw something else behind a trunk, watching with satisfaction as MC shook in his arms - though he had half a mind to charge forward and destroy it for daring to take pleasure in her pain, not a fiber in his being wanted to separate himself from her. Instead, he shut his eyes and buried his face in her hair, rubbing her back in an attempt at soothing her. 

"You won't be alone," he promised as the more important words got caught in his throat. 

Solomon understood her fear and the creeping feeling of being replaceable. It was only natural when you thought you had to live on such a short time limit. Time felt limited, like there was none to spare for falling in love or mourning the loss of anyone. He understood feeling as if he had to scramble from person to person in fear the time may slip away, and he knew how it felt to worry others may do that to you. He had 72 pacts and a collection of scorned lovers to prove it.

People were not replaceable, and they were never boring. Each person Solomon has ever loved has remained trapped in his heart, and humans had a desire to remember every person they've ever loved even beyond their years on earth. He wasn't sure how to tell her that she would never grow boring to him - that she would continue to evolve, because the very nature of her human being didn't change with her immortality. It was a fact he found difficult to accept himself, but people evolved continuously, even after a thousand years. Those who only live out their typical lifespan just don't have enough time to see it.

But his own stagnation compared to the world made him yearn for something, anything that might stay. MC wasn't entirely unfounded in her fears; the world would leave her behind, family and friends would be ripped from her and she'd have eternity to grapple with the pain. But Solomon knew he could never leave her - that even if she did die, he would carry her with him for eternity 

MC was everything he could ever think to hope for. It would just take time for her to figure it out, and they both had all the time in the world. He would stick by her side while she sorted things out, and he would stay there for the rest of time after. But for now, he held her tightly, hoping it was enough of a signal that he was here to stay.

[drabbles-mc]

Try Again

Kozik x OFC (Tawnie Trager) (ft. Dad!Tig Trager)

Request by Anon: Kozik x female reader, where reader is Tig's first daughter (bit older than the twins, called Tawnie for lols) and no-one knows they're together, until Kozik overhears Gemma question Tawnie about the hickeys - who is like "I'm not sure whether to be mad that they're there, or mad that they're not that good" and then Kozik is pretty much like, 'challenge accepted', and Tig catches them when Kozik tries to leave better ones...?

Prequel can be found Here

Warnings: language, alcohol, slight steam

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: I changed it to an OFC because the prompt felt almost a little too specific to keep it as a reader-insert lol. Hope you don’t mind! Also, y’all really like seeing Kozik come within an inch of his life with Dad!Tig lmaoooo love it

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She walked into the office with a box of files in her hands. Setting it down on Gemma’s desk, she let out a sigh. Rolling and cracking her neck, she pulled her hair back for a moment to help cool down. Normally she wouldn’t be caught dead with her hair down in the middle of summer, but things had gotten a little heated the night before and Kozik had left a scattering of hickeys on the side of her neck. The rule was always to keep it below the collar but they both got a little wrapped up in things. It wasn’t a huge deal when it happened for him—he could blame it on any of the women who hung around the clubhouse. But for her it was a bit of a tougher situation.

Her father had made it clear from the get-go that she and both of her sisters were off-limits to every man in the club. Even men who were friends of the club. No one was to do so much as toss a wink or a potentially flirtatious comment their way. And for as much as she tried to tell her father that he was being ridiculous, that she was a grown woman who could and would make her own decisions, he never budged. After all, Tig had never been known for being a man to compromise.

So it was bad enough that she was sneaking behind her father’s back with someone in the club. What made it even worse was the fact that it was the one person in the MC that he couldn’t stand. She didn’t even remember how her and Kozik fell into the situation that they were in. He was always friendly with her, but he was one of the most cautious around her because he knew that Tig wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in him if he so much as thought Kozik was hitting on his daughter. And yet, somehow that flipped completely around and the two of them were sneaking off whenever the situation allowed for it.

The last few months were playing at hyper-speed in her mind as she let herself breathe for a moment in the privacy of Gemma’s office. She was staring blankly down at the box that she had just brought in, too zoned out to notice the fact that Gemma had walked in behind her.

“Well, well, well,” Gemma chuckled as she walked up behind her, “What’d you get yourself into last night, T?”

Fear shot down her spine and she instantly let her hair go, “What?”

Gemma shook her head, “Too late to hide it now, sweetheart,” she brushed her hair out of the way to get a better look at her neck, “Since you’re busted, you gotta tell me,” she leaned back against the desk, “Who done it, Tawnie?”

She rolled her eyes, “You cannot tell my dad.”

Gemma chuckled, “What Tig doesn’t know won’t hurt him. So,” she nudged Tawnie’s shoulder, “spill the beans, sweetheart.”

Kozik was about to walk in to ask Gemma about something when he heard the two of them talking. He stopped himself, lurking right outside the door. He was curious to see how the conversation was going to go—he wanted to know if Tawnie would actually confide in someone about the two of them. He’d been good, he hadn’t told a single soul about the two of them being together. It was too small of a town and word traveled way too fast. His days were numbered as it was and he didn’t want to shorten his lifespan any more than necessary by having Tig find out that he was hooking up with his daughter.

Tawnie sighed, running her hands down her face, “Kozik.”

Gemma’s eyes went wide, “Honey, why do you want him to get the shit kicked out of him?”

She laughed, “I don’t! I don’t. Please, please don’t tell my dad.”

“I won’t,” Gemma shook her head slightly, “How’d that happen, anyway?”

She shrugged, feeling the heat rise slightly in her cheeks, “I don’t really know. It all sorta just…fell together.”

“How long?”

She paused, not wanting to admit how long they’d been hiding it, “Couple months.”

“A couple months?” Gemma chuckled and shook her head, “You’ve been sneaking around for a couple months and the man still can’t leave a proper hickey?”

She laughed, giving her a playful shove, “Gemma!”

“What? I’m just saying,” she glanced at her neck, “I could leave a better one than that. And your father would be much less pissed off about it.”

“You gonna give him a how-to manual, Gemma?”

She shook her head, “That’s something he’s gotta learn on his own, sweetheart.”

She laughed, “Is that something you’d like updates on?”

Gemma smiled as she fixed Tawnie’s hair, covering back up the marks on her neck, “You won’t need to tell me—I’ll see it for myself.”

There were a few beats of silence before she spoke up again, “Thank you for, y’know, not ratting me out to my dad.”

She smiled, “The girls gotta stick together.”

Taking that as her cue to leave, Tawnie made her way towards the office door. Kozik heard the sound of her footsteps and tried to back off enough so that it wouldn’t seem obvious that he was waiting right outside the door for her. Despite the distance, though, his face gave him away. She could tell from his expression that he was trying to cover for himself, which meant that he had most definitely heard her conversation with Gemma. She felt a little bad, but she also wanted to see what he was going to say.

“Oh, hey,” she smiled, tilting her head slightly, “You good?”

He nodded, “Yea, I’m…I’m good. Is, uh, is Gemma in there?”

So he was going to play it off for the time being. Two could play at that game. She nodded, “Yea, just got in.”

“Alright, cool. Thanks. I’ll see you later?”

She nodded, “Yea of course. You gonna be around tonight for the party?”

“Are you?”

She smiled, “I think so.”

A smirk passed over his face for a moment, “Then I think so too.”

The day went by quickly. She kept herself busy with random things around the garage and the clubhouse. Normally she’d be getting her hands dirty working on whatever needed repairs, but if she couldn’t tie her hair back out of the way, she wasn’t even going to bother. It would’ve been more trouble than it was worth.

She was helping bring in a few cases of beer as people started showing up for the party. It was dark out by that point, music and loud conversations already starting to flow out through the walls of the clubhouse. She smiled and shook her head to herself as she bumped the door open with her hip.

“T,” Jax appeared on the other side of the bar from her and gave his most charming smile, “grab me a beer, please?”

She rolled her eyes but did as he asked. She popped the top off of it before handing it to him, “I’m not a bartender, Teller.”

“If you’re on that side of the bar, you’re a bartender. Those are the rules.”

She laughed and shook her head before grabbing a beer for herself, “Guess you can carry your own shit in next time.”

Making her way back to the side of the bar that wouldn’t land her with more responsibilities, she looked around the clubhouse. Everyone was hanging out having a good time. A few of the guys were playing pool, and some of them already had women draped over their laps. She chuckled as she sat herself down on a stool at the bar. Pressing the beer bottle to her lips, she silently looked for Kozik in the midst of the chaos.

They locked eyes from across the room. He was sitting on the sofa, one of the women from Cara Cara tucked underneath his arm. She almost felt herself getting jealous, but when he smiled at her all of those feelings faded away. They both knew that the price of keeping their relationship a secret was having to allow a certain amount of flirtation from the people around them. He never got too close with any of the women who hung around the clubhouse, but he couldn’t be too cold and dismissive without at least one of the guys giving him shit about it.

Tawnie refused to break eye contact as she took a long drink from her beer bottle. She could see it in his eyes that even though the party had barely started, he already wanted to leave with her. She would’ve been up for that, too, if he asked. But she knew that he wouldn’t. She contented herself with keeping an eye on everyone around her.

Tig walked up, throwing a loving arm around his daughter’s shoulders, “How you doin’, doll?”

She chuckled and leaned against him for a moment, giving him a side-hug, “I’m good, Dad. Enjoying the party?”

“Always,” he laughed, “But are you?”

She chuckled, nodding, “You know me—I’m more than happy to just sit back and watch everyone else get into trouble.”

“Good way to stay out of it.”

“Exactly,” she gave him a playful nudge, “Go keep the boys in line, alright?”

He smiled, pressing a brief kiss to the top of her head, “Love you, T.”

“Love you too,” she laughed as he took off into the fray of things.

Once the party had really gotten underway, Kozik made his way over to her. It felt safer to be closer when there was so much else going on around them—they weren’t on anyone’s radar. He leaned in close so that only she could hear him. At first it was just jokes, off-hand comments about what was going on around them. She’d laugh and shake her head, and Kozik could swear that he’d never heard a better sound.

“Think we could sneak out for a bit?” he asked.

She looked at him, eyebrows raised, “Oh?”

He nodded, “Yea,” he pushed her hair back behind her shoulder, “because apparently I have some work to make up for.”

Heat rushed to her face and she wanted to hide behind her hands. Even though she knew that he had heard the conversation with Gemma, talking about it was an entirely different thing. She looked up at him, a nervous smile on her face.

“I didn’t say—”

“Don’t even,” he laughed and shook his head.

She laughed as well, knowing that there was no trying to soften the blow to his ego. He seemed to be handling it just fine, though. They both looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to them before sneaking back towards the dorms.

Once they were in the hall, out of the main cluster of the clubhouse, Kozik instantly had his hands all over her. He walked up behind her, sliding his hands up her sides beneath her top. Without thinking about it, she melted back into him, reaching back with one hand to trail her fingers down the side of his face. His fingers gripped onto her side as he kissed along her shoulder. He spun her around so that her chest was pressed against his, pushing her back against the wall.

He crashed his lips into hers as he pinned her to the wall. She gripped the edges of his kutte and attempted to pull him as close as she possibly could. They knew it was reckless to not even bother waiting to get to his dorm, but she wasn’t in the mood to be telling him to stop. Any and all responsible thoughts left her brain the second he bit down on her bottom lip.

He pulled his lips off of hers, trailing them down along her jaw and peppering her with kisses all along the way. She couldn’t help but to smile as he placed a kiss on her neck, “Gonna give it another shot?”

His laughter vibrated against her skin, “I feel like I have to. Can’t let Gemma disrespect me like that.”

She laughed and was about to make a smart remark when she felt his teeth against the sensitive skin of her neck. Her fingers wound their way into his hair, eyes fluttering shut as his hand slipped up the front of her shirt as he continued to suck a dark mark into the side of her throat. His name was about to fall from her lips in a quiet moan when their moment was interrupted.

“What the fuck is this?” Tig snapped, eyes darting back and forth between the two of them.

Kozik immediately backpedaled, nearly plastering himself against the opposite wall from Tig’s daughter. Tawnie’s face was flushed, hair and shirt a mess as she tried to look anywhere but into the eyes of her dad. She knew it was their own doing, but she still didn’t want to have to have this conversation with him.

“You’re a dead motherfucker,” within a split second Tig was charging at Kozik,

“Dad!” Tawnie jumped in, barely being able to wedge herself between the two men before serious damage was done, “Dad, stop!” she shoved him backwards with all the strength she could muster.

Tig’s chest was heaving as he looked down at his daughter, “What the fuck, T?”

“You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t see,” she sounded much more confident than she really felt.

“This,” he pointed at Kozik, “is not a good choice, Tawnie.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me!”

Kozik’s eyes were bouncing back and forth between the two Tragers. It wasn’t often that he saw Tawnie get heated and defensive about things. He’d certainly never pictured her speaking like that to her own father. He wanted to step in and say something but he had the feeling that that was only going to make it worse.

“And you,” Tig’s eyes bored into his, “what the fuck are you thinking?!”

It was hard to try and sound tough when Tawnie was the only thing standing between him and getting his ass beat. He still tried, though. He rested his hands protectively on her shoulders and looked directly into Tig’s eyes.

“I’m think that she’s right. That you don’t get to make that decision for us.”

“For us?” Tig stepped in closer, his blood boiling.

“I’m an adult, Dad,” Tawnie was shaking her head, “And for what it’s worth, I don’t think you get to criticize who I’m seeing when you were about to bring some random woman back to your dorm,” she cocked one eyebrow.

That got Tig to recoil a bit. He hooked his thumbs onto his belt-loops, trying to figure out what he wanted his next move to be. After a few moments of incredibly tense silence, he looked back at his daughter, “We aren’t done talking about this.”

Before she could try to give any kind of sass in return, Tig turned around and headed back towards the main part of the clubhouse, the woman he was about to whisk away following suit. Tawnie let out a deep sigh of relief as she leaned back against Kozik, taking comfort in the feeling of his arms draped over her shoulders as he kissed the top of her forehead.

“Did you think you were gonna die?” she laughed.

He chuckled, loosely wrapping his arms around her neck as he pulled her back against him, “For a second, yea.”

“My last resort would’ve been telling him that Gemma told you to do it,” she tilted her head back so she could look up at him.

He smiled down at her, “I kinda wish that you did, just so we could see his reaction.”

“He still might’ve killed you.”

“Maybe,” he sighed as he rested his forehead lightly against the back of her head.

“Does this mean you’re going to bail on your redemption plans?”

He slid his hands down so that they were resting on her hips again. Without a word he turned her and began pushing her down the hall in the direction of his dorm. She laughed as she let herself be guided down the row of doors.

“I don’t give up that easy,” he laughed quietly as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

[johannstutt413]

(requested by calligomiles)

Waking up every morning in a proper bed, in a proper building, with proper heating and air conditioning and water and and andandand- Waking up, period, was a strange experience for FrostNova since she’d arrived at Rhodes Island. Or rather, since she’d found herself in a bed at Rhodes Island, saved by the grace of whatever god presided over what remained of Terra and the mind-numbingly massive effort invested in the attempt to resuscitate her, every day had a dream-like quality to it, as if none of this was truly happening anymore. Her Oripathy, which she’d been sure would be the death of her, was stabilized, albeit on the precipice of falling apart should she even attempt to use her powers, so like many of Rhodes Island’s patients, she found herself busying herself with her recovery and administrative work. And it was during said work that she first encountered the red-hot mistress of the King’s Wand, Skyfire.

While Frost was processing a requisition for a flame-retardant robe (where did they come up with these things?), the Feline burst into her office. “You!”

“You seem to recognize, but I don’t recognize you.” She looked up from her keyboard. “How may I help you?”

“Spare me the pleasantries, witch. You were part of Reunion before coming here, yes?”

She sighed. “Yes, before coming to my senses, I aided Reunion. I have since repented of my foolishness.”

“The only repentance you deserved was being disintegrated.” Skyfire’s outfit was beginning to smolder. “Fortunately, I’m here to oblige you.”

“If you wish.” FrostNova, with a sigh, continued with her work.

She couldn’t believe it. Ignoring someone who was threatening her directly - the nerve of this woman! “Any last words?”

“Tell the Doctor,” she replied, without missing a beat, “whoever keeps burning through their clothing should ask for an inhibitor when outside of combat.”

“‘Whoever keeps burning their-’ what do you mean, an inhibitor?” As the Feline said the words, there was a snap as the elastic holding her bra in place came undone.

The Cautus noted this and carried on. “As a practical measure, those of us with dangerously powerful Arts can wear certain garments or accessories designed to limit their ability to leverage those powers. One of the less carefree members of Reunion made one for me in the hope it would meaningfully extend my lifespan, and while it was not entirely sufficient, if I’d made more regular use of it, it could have been. Miss Skyfire, I presume?”

“...Yes, that’s me.” She sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk. “Did the sound of my strap breaking give me away?”

“The smoke you emitted as a result did, at the least. If you would like, I can have a request in the Doctor’s hands by the end of the day for an inhibitor to be made for you.”

Skyfire thought for a moment before sighing. “Do so, then.”

“I’ll begin as soon as you’ve apologized to me.” In truth, she was already working on it, but she did want an apology. “You did threaten to kill me just now, after all.”

“...I’m sorry. Ever since Reunion killed the Wand’s beloved, we- I haven’t been able to forgive them. They must atone with their lives. For what they did.”

Yelena nodded. “I can understand the sentiment, but consider: did the man who killed this Phil already die?”

“They did not.” The Feline began smoldering again. “They escaped in the riot that followed.”

“I see. That is rather unfortunate. May I suggest you do limit the scope of your hatred to those deserving it, nonetheless? In this case, the ones immediately responsible for Phil’s demise?”

She stared at the Cautus disbelievingly. “Why do you care about the fate of these criminals?”

“Many had little choice in where their allegiance fell - without a better alternative, they flocked to those who made great promises with honeyed words, or were forced to join the mob by those rushing forward behind them.” She looked back at Skyfire. “But there are certainly some I would like to freeze where they stand and watch the life leech out of their eyes.”

“...That’s fair. I’m glad we came to an understanding.”

Yelena nodded. “Certainly. The Doctor should have that request in his inbox before the end of today. Is there anything else you need?”

“No.” She turned to leave. “I’ve research to attend to. Enjoy your evening.”

“Likewise.” ‘...Did my nerves play tricks on me, or did I feel the room heat up when she walked into my office?...’

-- -- --

A few days went by, and Yelena heard nothing more from the spitfire Skyfire. She assumed that either she’d gotten her inhibitor, and ergo she didn’t need to come see her again, or she hadn’t and decided to take the problem to the Doctor themselves. Either way, FrostNova had other things on her mind, so why should it matter?

...It mattered because it had been years since she’d felt even that tiny bit of warmth, and damn it all, she wanted to feel it again. During her time with Reunion, it seemed like that warmth was impossible to find, but now she had hope again, and if there’s one thing Yelena had learned from being saved by Rhodes, it was that sometimes hope was the key ingredient to making something possible. Fortunately for her, she had an opportunity not longer after coming to this decision when the Caster found her at lunch.

“Good afternoon, FrostNova.” Skyfire sat in the chair across from her. “I wanted to thank you for the inhibitor request; it’s been three days since I destroyed my clothes, and not for lack of trying.”

“I’m happy to have helped.” She would have continued, but after spending five hours in her office with minimal contact with other people, her communicative powers were somewhat shot.

The Feline wasn’t done, however. “There’s a side effect that I was hoping you might know how to deal with, since you’ve had one for longer. When I have to take it off at night, I emit a lot of excess heat, which means that now, rather than burning through my clothes, I’ve incinerated three sets of sheets in four days. Do you know where I could find a heat sink?”

“A heat sink?” Ah. Well, this was as good a chance as any. “I happen to sponge heat rather well.”

“That would be fine.”

Should have known that was too- wait. “I expected you to be less open to the idea.”

“Why wouldn’t I accept your help?” She shrugged. “I’ve grown accustomed to others seeing me without my clothes as a side effect of my Arts, and if it solves my problem as well, I’ve only gained from it...More than that, however, I think I know why you’re volunteering.”

“You know about my condition, then?”

 Skyfire blinked. “Condition?”

“You don’t know, then?” Yelena decided to ask the follow-up question after answering the Feline’s. “For some time now, I’ve been completely unable to feel warmth; whether because of nerve damage, a side effect of my Oripathy, a mix of both or some unknown third factor, I now chill the air around me rather than warm it. The other day, when you came to my office, I...I felt warm, for the briefest moment, for the first time in years.”

“...Ah. I see. That makes perfect sense.” The plastic fork in her hand wilted as she blushed.

The Cautus smiled. “Why did you think I offered to help you?”

“W-well, as a single woman with a prestigious position in academia, I’ve received several... offers of intimacy.” Half true - she’d received offers before achieving her status as an acclaimed scholar, but only after reaching her ivory tower did she regret not considering them more thoroughly. “And I imagine you’d have to be rather close to absorb enough of my body heat to have an effect...I’m sorry, I may have been projecting a little.”

“Projecting? Did you want me to be propositioning you, Skyfire?”

Caught like a cat in the fish tank. “...It’s rather lonely at the top, isn’t it?”

“You don’t have to climb far to isolate yourself.” Yelena paused for just a moment before she sighed. “Well, it seems I have no choice in the matter now, do I?”

“In which matter?” The Feline, for once, wasn’t quite following.

She brushed her hand against Skyfire’s glass of water, freezing it solid as her inhibitor redirected some of her ambient chill, on her way to handing her a note with her mobile number. “I’ll see you tonight. Depending on how...heated things become, I can’t guarantee your sheets will survive.”

“I have one more set in my closet.” Her hand shaking, she reached for the note, but found her open hand instead. “So soft, but so cold. Like freshly-fallen snow. Or, at least, I imagine this is how it feels to hold snow; I always melted it before it reached me.”

“Mmm.” Yelena’s words had escaped her once again, however, as radiating from her hand and through the rest of her body was the feeling hope had promised her: warmth.

Or, perhaps, love at first touch?

[azulsartdump]

Azul and nanami with the prompt love

Gonna make this my entry for Day 4 of Twst Ship Week. 

The prompt for today was Graduation/Post-canon, so this takes place a few years after they’ve all graduated from NRC.

“How do you do it?”

“What do you mean?”

Azul turned her head to peer over at Nanami, curious about her sudden inquiry.

“How do you love so easily?” Nanami gazed across the garden where Kalim was happily playing with their daughters, Riddle standing nearby on the sidelines as if he were supervising them all.

“Love isn’t a limited resource, at least to me,” Azul let a chortle escape her as she turned her attention back to the garden just in time to see Riddle catching one of Nanami’s daughter as she fell from the piggyback totem pole Kalim had started to build. 

“Still,” Nanami’s eyebrows furrowed as her gaze shifted to the cup of tea she held in her hands. “You’re not human. You’ll watch us all grow old and die one day. Are you not scared of that? Does it not upset you?”

Of course, it did. It was something that had always been on Azul’s mind when she formed any sort of relationship with mortals. The lifespan of a human was almost inconsequential in comparison to that of a fae, especially one that had lived as long as she had. Azul had watched many of her dear friends age and bid her goodbye over the centuries, and every time was just as devastating as the last. 

After taking a moment to collect her thoughts, she managed to find the words to express how she felt.

“I know that to love another, I must watch the world move past him.” Azul kept her gaze on Riddle as she spoke. “But such short years make an eternity worth living.”

[races-ia]

Lifespan: 1001 years exactly, then reincarnates Powergroup three non- Magically gifted Realm of origin: The other dimension - The universe

Powers

All Children of liúxīng Major & Minor house

Kin sensing

All children of liúxīng have the ability to find the other stars, other star-creatures (moon-sprites, sun-sprites and celestielves) and find people with the zodiac sign that they are born from.

Floating

The children of liúxīng can float. They can’t fly, they can float, slowly, up to the stars if they wanted.

Glowing

All children of liúxīng glow lightly in the dark, they are made out of stardust.

Children of liúxīng: Minor house

Short-term future telling

The children of the minor house can tell a limited amount of the future, mostly in the upcoming days/weeks/year but no further. Their sights are more specific than those of the major house but are shorter term, they won’t know what is going on exactly but can point out a few points of interest.

Unique ability: shielded

As the weaker house of the children of liúxīng, the children of the minor house are blessed with the ability to shield themselves from physical attacks and mental attacks (mindreading, attacks from imaginaries, illusions).

Unique ability: invisibility

When the children of the minor house are feeling threatened they’ll go invisible. It is an instinctual and automatic power. They can be invisible for about five minutes.

Unique ability: blood of power

The blood of the children of the minor house is a life-extending and health-improving liquid. Drinking the blood of the stars makes you stronger, younger and healthier.

Unique weakness: pacifist

The children of the minor house are unable to do anything aggressive, they lose their shielded ability when they show their anger or aggression.

Unique weakness: connected to the major

The children of the minor house feel the need to listen to those of the major house. It is not a demand or something set in stone but they feel the pull to obey.

MYTHOS:

Ancient China. A bright star in the sky made the people look up as a glowing pair of stairs led down from the Heavens themselves. While dragons and elves were commonplace in these times this was something the mortals had never seen before.

Creatures with glowing, sparkling skin were coming down to talk to the humans. Formed by the stars themselves in another dimension had taken interest in the odd planet that people called dìqiú.

The ‘Children of liúxīng’ or meteor children were first welcomed as Gods and deities among the humans in China (and later other parts of the world as well), the starchildren fell in love with humans and while they were missed in their own lands, it was all well.

Though things change, the world changes and humanity changed.

The Children of liúxīng were being hunter by humans and dragon kind alike, for their different approach to life as well as their blood which had healing abilities. It was the sky herself that split the Children of liúxīng into two groups. The major house was the group that was designated to protect, they were given weapons and a terrifying expression when threatened. Only the most brave, dutiful and strong Children of liúxīng were reincarnated into the major house. They were kind creatures, bound through their destiny to protect the children from the minor house from any danger they might face.

The children of the minor house were the physically weaker ones. The smartest Children of liúxīng were chosen to be reincarnated as those in the minor house. They would protect themselves and when they were in true danger they knew that the major house would always protect them.

It was not an easy task, to reincarnate so many Children of liúxīng, so all the star signs divided the children among one another. The major house children are divided into the zodiac signs that span over years, rather than months (like the Chinese zodiac). While most of them were chosen by the Chinese signs like the Rabbit, Snake and Ox there were other zodiac signs that took over some of the children (allowing other zodiacs from other cultures as well).

The minor house children are divided into the zodiac signs that span over months, rather than years (so like western zodiac). While most of then were chosen by the Western signs like Libra, Virgo and Leo there were other other zodiac signs that took over some of the children (allowing other zodiacs from other cultures as well).

The children always take over some of the personality traits associated with the zodiac sign that reincarnated them.

It was in 1991 that the Children of liúxīng returned to Earth for the first time, though they have now made their entrance to the academy herself. Common personality traits: Stubborn, weak physically, whimsical, absent-minded

[mistymark]

nct dream x hogwarts

nct dream as hogwarts students // 2.3k words // masterlist // send requests here

r e n j u n

the only slytherin in the gang

probably muggle-born but also top of most of his classes

what can he say hes amazed by this shit

really good at theory-based subjects especially

history of magic is his bitch lets be real

sketches in his books and stuff

says he likes sketching with quills the most because theyre more aesthetic

donghyuck says its because hes pretentious

but the whole group pitched in to get him some really nice canvases and paints and other tools

one of his paintings is hanging in the school somewhere, and the little girl in it smiles and greets all the students as they walk past

somehow she always tries to spit on people who had been annoying him recently - and them only

sometimes she spits on Donghyuck for no reason

jeno laughs and says its because she has a crush on him

uses magic for the dumbest things just because he can

he mastered the wingardium leviosa spell within a week because he couldn't be bothered getting up to get things

when he gets close to graduation, hes pretty much practicing simple wandless magic

once freaked out the first years because jaemin charmed a storm cloud to hang around him for an entire day

it flashed lightning when he got particularly annoyed, which was a lot because that cloud was annoying as shit

has a really old owl that literally looks evil but has called it something like “snuggles”

laughs when he unintentionally swoops too low and skims other students’ heads on mail day

buys all his friends gifts during the holidays and comes back with bags filled with fun shit

pretends he never buys gifts for chenle and jisung

always ends up giving them more

cause hes soft like that

but he headlocks them after to show his dominance

has a habit of throwing his cases in the general direction of the dorm when he comes back from holidays and accidentally hitting other students

plays quidditch in his free time

debates strategies with Jeno during their free periods

gets called a traitor by his own captain

couldnt really give a shit about his own team, he prefers to support his friends

wears his school uniform properly and is the only one in the group who does so

j e n o

a Gryffindor

probably quidditch captain

and dubbed the best player on the team

super humble about it too

always commends his team for doing their best when they lose and every member loves him a lot

the captain that's always saying stuff like “it doesn't matter how this game ends... as long as we try our hardest and play as a team”

the entire team rolls their eyes at his cheesiness but the lack of pressure keeps them at ease

and majority of the time they play really well

though its clear his focus is on quidditch, he still does really well in his classes

cant cook but is somehow rlly good at potions??

likes all the really tiny creatures in care of magical creatures

and they like him too

has a slightly damaged snitch that he carries around with him at all times

one of the wings broke during his first ever game of quidditch and he never got rid of it

he keeps it in the pocket of his robes and fiddles with it when he's anxious about something

has a really good poker face when he's stressed and you'd never know until you hear the soft clicking of his hand playing with it in his pocket while he studies

has a terrible poker face when something confuses him though

during class its so obvious when he doesnt get something

renjun once charmed question marks to hang around his head and everyone in the class died laughing

even jeno

overall great sense of humour

he brought a cat

of course

and its always getting him into trouble for wandering into the off-limits areas of the castle or into the restricted section of the library

once jaemin joked that the cat was actually an animagus that was purposely trying to get him in trouble 

and jeno was spooked for like a week

wouldn't let the cat sleep on his bed and almost had a heart attack when he saw it wandering the halls between classes

but there was nothing wrong with the cat

shes just a curious girl

had a major glow-up between 6th and 7th year and everyone fell in love with him lmao

like everyone knew he was fit from quidditch but they didnt know he was that fit you know

heartthrob

d o n g h y u c k

an annoying brat

at least when he first arrived at Hogwarts in first year

has really good intentions though

everyone thought he would get sorted into Slytherin 

like the second he stepped on the train and found his way into mark lee’s compartment everyone was like this kid has GOT to be a Slytherin

but no! hufflepuff

true fullsun

used to be a beater on the quidditch team but he was forced to quit until he got his grades up

but he ended up commentating because he couldnt play

and who can actually talk that fast other than the lee donghyuck

and actually found that he enjoyed that more

so even when his grades were t h r i v i n g

he stayed as a commentator

absolutely hilarious and everyone loves him for it

is Not afraid to call out foul plays

mutters quick apologies to the professors when they scold him but does it again later anyway

tbh is actually really popular

known for being dared to stand on the Slytherin table and sing at the top of his lungs 

and actually doing it

he got two weeks detention

“worth it” - donghyuck, circa. 2019

has a talent for defence against the dark arts

acts like the smartest person in the room during that class

hes lowkey right tho

(don't tell him)

wears his tie way too loose and constantly gets told off about it

promises professors he’ll fix it then walks away and just,,, doesnt

his Hufflepuff scarf hangs off his bed frame back home

had a toad for his first few years of hogwarts but the toad ended up passing away so now he has a really troublesome owl

the owl itself is a good boy, flies fast and efficiently, but has a nasty habit of pecking donghyuck when hes hungry

“but hes hungry all the time” he whines when jaemin explains the bird’s just hungry. meanwhile, jaemin’s owl is sitting softly beside him, her eyes closed as he pets her

every first day back from holidays hyuck has red lines on his hands, arms and ears from the owl

chenle says its for giving the poor bastard a terrible name

donghyuck never actually refers to his owl by his proper name, always things like “bastard” and “dipshit”

theres a conspiracy theory about the owl’s real name and no one in their group will spill the secret

complains that the animals in care of magical creatures like him more than his own pet

“lol tru” - Chenle

j a e m i n

ravenclaw’s biggest flirt and most popular student

probably didnt even want to run for house captain but still got the position

theres a rumour that he was offered head boy but he turned it down

was the first one to find the kitchens and claimed it as the unofficial hang out spot for their group

if you’re ever missing jaemin, he’s probably in the kitchens chatting up the elves and stealing food every now and then

carries snacks with him everywhere for when he needs to comfort one of his babies house members

literally all the younger year levels feel so comfortable coming to him with their problems

has no issue with staying up in the common room to talk through things with someone

is known to walk people to their classes and then bolt to his own classrooms so hes not late

50% of the school is already in love with him

he was given the angel reputation back in first year and it hasn't let him down

is kind of a troublemaker tho

teases his classmates and even some professors that he has a good relationship with

really really loves transfiguration

probably wants to become an animagus

also wants to be an auror

absolutely loves defence of the dark arts

his owl is white and regal

like genuinely beautiful

she always looks like shes happy to see you

just like her owner uwu

he named her something sweet and meaningful

when Renjuns owl isnt able to fly, jaemin’s owl is eager to take Renjuns mail back to his family for him

wears his jumper all year round

its a good look though,, no ones complaining

was on the quidditch team up until his final year

he dropped it to focus on his studies and also being house captain

it takes him forever to go anywhere because he stops to talk to everyone

somehow knows everyone in school

even the third years in other houses??

runs errands for teachers with a smile

offers to buy food when the group goes out

c h e n l e

another muggleborn

but fits in so well

like the boy is just a natural at magic

unfortunately it doesnt always transfer into his grades

he has such a great interest in everything,,, just not on what hes learning

learnt fourth year history of magic in his first year but still almost failed his exam at the end of year

also hes the best other hufflepuff in the group

didnt understand quidditch for at least a year

ended up in the team in second year and is actually really good

probably the goalie

has the loudest laugh in school

the older professors claim they can hear him from the other side of the castle

somehow gets his hands on all the coolest magic stuff

has the marauders map no doubt

bought himself an invisibility cloak to mess with his friends

makes his professors laugh a lot

fist bumps everyone in school istg

like chenle w h y

really good at muggle studies too

made sure to select it as a subject the entire time he was at hogwarts as a slack class

doesnt really study and then feels threatened when someone gets a mark close to his

studies his butt off for the next test to maintain his status as top rank

definitely had a rat first year because he thought they were cool

and also because he knows rats can be pets like ??? wyd with owls you guys ??? shouldn't they be out in the wild or smth??

was super depressed when he found out how short the lifespans of rats were

ended up having to buy an owl in third year because rip nugget 2k15 :((

his owl is Small

thought it would be funny to call it renjun

but then renjun wouldnt talk to him for almost a week

visits the owlery at least once a week during his free periods to check on his owl

collects his thoughts up there

also rlly likes feeding the owls

sometimes steals Jeno’s cat

catch him in his dorm studying on his bed with Jeno’s cat sleeping in his lap

chenle claims its because the cats like the warm greenhouse vibe the Hufflepuff dorm has going on

but the real reason he bribed the cat into loving him when he first met it

probably was the one to lead the cat to the off-limits areas of the castle

j i s u n g

Gryffindors best seeker to date

kinda shy but is rlly admired by everyone

likes to piss jeno off by missing practice every two practices to study

but low-key hes so good he doesnt really have to go at all

doesnt want a career in quidditch but is constantly reminded he could have one if he wanted it

easily the most popular boy in his year

got asked out a few times this year and awkwardly rejected them all in the nicest way possible

he has a cat thats just as long and skinny as he is

jeno likes to call it sungie and it now responds to that name

enjoys care of magical creatures but very hesitant towards the creatures

but because of his care and precaution, the animals all really love him lmao

gets really soft around them now

seriously oblivious to his admirers tho

chenle once said if the triwizard tournament was to be brought back jisung would be the one to be chosen

has lived in fear ever since

okay jokes

boy could totally win

the only one in the group who has attempted and can successfully perform wordless magic

he knows way too many jinxes and charms off the top of his head that he can easily jinx you without even uttering a word

once was studying in the great hall when one of his friends teased him about rejecting someone and without looking up from his book he just lifted his wand and waved it, jinxing the apple in his friend’s hand to bite him

got detention but honestly the professor was so pleased with his progress it was only a one hour session

has a lot of sass 

evidently

never Fully awake at breakfast

always looks really good in the evenings tho

he comes down to breakfast with his tie half undone and the top button of his shirt open

undoes the top buttons when he’s stressed too

professors love having him as a student

especially because they know he hangs out with jaemin

but the fact that he was in renjun and Donghyuck and Chenle’s group was enough for them to be wary

but hes the perfect blend of fun and focused in lessons

likes studying outside in summer

enjoys walking around school grounds during the holidays

[banashee]

24 - Overprotective

It's early in the morning, and the upstate facility lies there in silence. Clint is awake, however, curled against Thor, who is fast asleep but holding on just a little too tight. Clint let's him – he knows that he is terrified of losing another loved one, so he holds on as if he was about to disappear, too.

Gently, Clint brushes his fingers through the long, matted strands of hair, detangling whatever knots he can without waking Thor up. Both of them have trouble sleeping, and he's glad he finds at least a little bit of rest. Thinking back to how it all started, to how they started, feels like a completely different life.

*+~

They fell in love with each other nearly 10 years ago. It's a long time for a human person, but barely more than the blink of an eye for a demigod.

Time is a construct, but that still doesn't make it stop. The two of them have talked about this before.

The first time has been after a battle, and Thor... The best way to describe it would be simply him being overprotective because that's what it comes down to, even though it's a bit more complicated than that.

He had cut off a threat while they fought in a battle, something that Clint would have been easily capable of handling himself. Clint is annoyed, but writes it off as a one-time thing. Except it keeps happening. By the end of the day, he's no longer annoyed but truly pissed off.

When they're back in the tower and in private, he confronts Thor about he and may or may not explode a little bit.

Thor lets him rant, until Clint stops on his own, blurting out,

“What is even going on, why the fuck are you doing this? You've never doubted me before!”

He is confused, angry and hurt. He's not sure how or why this happened. But Thor looks more and more upset, and what even is happening?

Then Thor motions for him to sit down with him, and he explains.

Human lifespans are painfully short compared to his and he knows he will long outlive Clint, has known this from the start, even before there was anything romantic between them. But it scares him, and he does not wish for this time to come sooner than it needs to.

“I apologize for making you think I'd doubt you. This was never my intention, it's just that I care very deeply for you and do not wish any harm upon you, my love. You are a capable warrior and very much able to fight for yourself – I've always known this, and that has not changed. But my fear of losing you has clouded my judgment today, and for this I am sorry.”

It takes all the rest of his anger out of Clint, and it leaves him speechless for a moment. This wasn't what he'd expected. Slowly, he reaches out for the other man, and they slide into an embrace, holding on tight.

“I'm sorry I didn't realize this.” Clint admits, and presses a soft kiss onto his lips before pulling him close again.

*+~

Over the years, the topic comes up every now and again. After close calls on the battlefield, or in the dead of night when thoughts run wild and keep them awake.

After Ultron, they get separated. A lot if things happen, and then half of every living beings get snapped out of existence.

Even after years with very limited contact, their feelings for each other are the same. After grueling uncertainty if the other was even still alive, they meet again to prepare for a fight like never before.

That first night in private quarters after such a long time, they hold each other close and it is a tearful night. They have changed, life has been cruel to both of them, but the love is still there, and so is the support. They have lost most others.

Asgard is destroyed, and it's only survivors have relocated to earth, trying to build a new life here. Thor struggles with this, having lost family, friends and his home. The failure against Thanos the first time stings deep, keeps him awake at night if he doesn't drink himself stupid before the thoughts get too much.

Barney, Laura and their kids have all disintegrated to ashes, and it leaves Clint to five long years of pain and loneliness. While he is on the run all over the world, slaughtering mafia bosses and drug cartel leaders, Thor hides in Norway and attempts to drink his sorrows away.

Then their ways cross again, and although they are changed people, both in a physical and emotional sense, the love is still there.

It doesn't matter that they feel more broken than whole these days, it doesn't matter that Clint aged beyond his years, or that Thor has grown softer, his body no longer in peak condition. They love each other in any way, shape or form, and that knowledge helps them mastering the worse days. Because lately, every day is a bad day.

Sometimes, one of them is too exhausted from sadness to even get out of bed for days. If there is any strength left, the other helps them shower, eat and take care of themselves.

Other days, neither of them has the energy to do so, and then it's all they can do to hold onto each other, for as long as they have.

*+~

About the KeGo https://banashee.tumblr.com/post/189288814786/keep-going-december-kego

Also, go check out @bananaink she is the other mastermind behind KeGo  ♥

Show her some love because she’s great

Check out my AO3 while you’re at it ♥

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21954154

Happy Holidays everyone! ♥

[devnicolee]

Snowfall (5)

Warnings: Slow burn (I realized this is a slow burn - I have been writing long chapters and this moves slow so I figured I should start saying that haha), Violence, Angst 

Word Count: 3,487

*All mistakes are my own*

Zarah was dying. She was sure of it. And not in an overly dramatic "my life is falling apart" sort of way. No, she knew the silky, menacing hands of Death were reaching for her like she knew the sun would rise in the morning. She just wouldn’t be alive to see it.

She wondered what she would have done differently… if she had known she was sharing her last moments with her loved ones. The things she would have done, said. She would regret that, not appreciating how precious and limited her time was. Two years with M’Baku wasn’t enough, it seemed cruel of Hanuman to give them something so special and rip it away so suddenly, so harshly. They weren’t even given the opportunity to say goodbye. 

The average lifespan in Wakanda was 102. So Zarah had plans… to grow old and grey with him. M’Baku wanted at least six kids, his own personal army, and she was more than willing to give him as many as time and her body would allow. They had decided to start trying after they hit two years of marriage. Their relationship had been a whirlwind up until their wedding day, friendship to dating to married in six short months. So they were holding off to give themselves more time to build a solid foundation. Then after their first-born son or daughter took the throne, they would retire and split their time between the Lodge with their grandchildren and a small cabin in the mountains. They would spend their days hiking, gardening, exploring the rest of Wakanda, all the things they wanted to do now but didn’t have time to. She could see it clear as day. M’Baku would have been the best father and Zarah would have tried to be a great mother, she would have given her kids the love and affection she never had. A few tears fell at the future that would only be allowed to exist in her dreams, a litany of unfulfilled promises that would die with her. But there was still a chance for M’Baku, his future still bursting with hope. He could still be a great father, have those six kids and retire in the mountains - it just won’t be with you, she noted to herself. Zarah wanted that for him, prayed he found peace once she was with the ancestors. She didn’t get to be his forever, but she was thankful for the time they had. Death in their culture wasn’t a goodbye anyway, she would see him again.

Before she could drown further in her sea of emotional despair, she felt her mind start to slip. She tried to fight it, tried to concentrate on anything else. It was hard though. Her brain seemed to beg her for another reprieve. When she succumbed to the darkness, she didn’t have to register the pure agony her body was in. Every breath she took sent sharp pains shooting through her chest. Her entire body was covered in various bruises and injuries, which meant every movement she made hurt. She was constantly afraid to move from the fetal position she curled herself into. Every time she tried, she was overcome with dizziness. Her vision blurred and her head pounded, forcing her to lay back down and wait for the symptoms to subside again. Her body temperature transitioned from shivering cold to burning hot. The only time she found peace was when her mind forced her into sweet oblivion.

It doesn’t matter though, she thought. As she lay shivering in the cold, clutching her body in a weak fetal position. Zarah had already accepted that she would likely die alone in this dark, cold cave. She hated herself for thinking that way. But her own helplessness hung around her neck like a noose, suffocating her.  She failed the Jabari and her husband. She hadn’t fought back enough, didn’t use all the tools in her arsenal soon enough. She prayed they would forgive her if she couldn’t hold on anymore. She would try. As much as she wanted it to end, she knew she owed it to them to try until the last second.

Zarah lost the battle with her mind though, her eyes falling shut and sending her into a brief sleep.

"Wake up girl."

Zarah jolted awake as a sharp pain radiated from her side. She groaned and slowly opened her eyes to see Davu standing over her with his foot drawn back, ready to swing and kick her again. Zarah immediately tensed and rolled to protect her side. Tears stung her eyes as she attempted to breathe through the pain. She hated how broken she was, how broken he made her.

"No… please. I’m awake. What do you want?" Zarah’s words slurred and voice hoarse from a lack of water and overexertion of her vocal cords.

He roughly grabbed her arm and yanked her off the ground.

"It’s time."

“No, no please," she begged her captor for the first time. "I… I can’t do anymore. I’ll do anything… just please. I am begging you." Her words tumbled out of her in rushed sobs, her tone weary and tired.

Going back to that room, enduring another set of beatings, meant imminent death. Tears fell down her cheeks as she looked at him, silently praying he would grant her the one thing he seemed incapable of - mercy.

"You are pathetic," he spat. "You call yourself a chieftess, a leader but you can’t handle a little pain? He," Davu sneered, "is weak for choosing a feeble thing like you. You are both undeserving to lead."

She stared up at him, tears falling down her face. "I've done nothing to you. M’Baku and I leave you alone, don't bother you or your people. Why are you doing this?"

"Your husband humiliated me in front of our tribe. You both are destroying the Jabari. This is about righting centuries of wrongs. It is about ensuring that the souls of the Jabari aren’t destroyed. I and those like me understand that you are weak, your husband is weak. This is about proving that the Jabari deserve better than you and your chief’s lack of honor. Only Hanuman knows how you are in power, corrupting the minds of our people with useless technology... consorting with that vibranium-obsessed King and the Golden City. But they shall see how useless you are… when I am done with you, your brokenness will be all they see. I said, it is time."

He tightened his grip and dragged her toward that room. Each step reminding her that if this was to be her last night on Earth, she couldn’t leave without a fight.

****

"What is the emergency N’Danna?" M’Baku called as he swept into the throne room after receiving a frenzied call from N’Danna minutes earlier.

N’Danna stood with T’Challa and Okoye holding a few pieces of fraying parchment paper in his hand.

"We know who has her."

"What? How? Who? Where is she?" Like a light switch, determination replaced the despondent expression on M’Baku’s face immediately. He fired off rapid questions as hope filled his heart for the first time in days.

"One of our operatives brought this to the Eastern Border Patrol. Davu took her."

"Davu? What? Where is he holding her?"

"Their compound. The main entrance is on the other side of the mountains but he says there are hidden entrances. One that is only two miles from her last location. He was able to escape and get a message to the border. She is there… he saw her twice. He saysthe command came straight from the top, orchestrated by Davu. He imagines some of the leaders of the sect had to help him but reasons are unclear… There is chatter amongst the lower ranks but nothing concrete."

"Forgive me, who is this man? Davu?" Shuri asked. After centuries of isolation, the Golden City was not well versed in the tribal history of the Jabari.

"Davu is the leader of a small faction of Jabari. The tribe just refers to them as the Cave Dwellers. They are a cult that live in a compound hidden in the Eastern mountains. Years ago, the tribal leaders determined that they were a threat to the Jabari so it is forbidden territory for the rest of the tribe. They aren’t allowed in our mountains anymore after he challenged Lord M’Baku to be chief. First time they had left the caves in years. Davu yielded."

"That sounds strangely familiar," Shuri quipped under her breath, earning her a discrete pinch on the arm from T’Challa.

"Could this be retribution for that?" Okoye inquired, ignoring her princess’s inappropriately-timed jokes.

N'Danna shook his head. "That was over 5 years ago. 3 years before M’Baku and Zarah finally wised up and got together. It could be…but it just seems odd that he would wait so long to enact revenge and choose her as his outlet."

"How would he have even known who Zarah was? What she looked like if they aren’t allowed in Jabariland and Jabari aren’t allowed in their territory? What do you all know about him?" Shuri asked.

"Ever since he challenged M’Baku, I have had a spy in their camp. Just to keep an eye on things. He rarely has anything to report. But he pass along information all the time to keep up his cover. Our chieftess’s identity wouldn’t have been anything worth keeping secret. We have considered that they could have spies among the Jabari but we have never really cared. We always knew they didn’t have enough men or resources to pull off an attack."

"Aside from the reports from our operative, we don’t think about them, don’t consider them at all. They leave us alone, we leave them alone… it’s been a sort of... unspoken agreement since the challenge."

"We should’ve never underestimated him. Davu is the smartest leader the dwellers have ever had. He knows us better than most. He is a defector - left the tribe when he was 18," N’Danna spat, his disgust evident in his voice.

"Could it be for a ransom? Holding her to force M’Baku to give up the throne?" Shuri interjected.

"Well if that was the case, he wouldn't wait almost 40 hours to make that known. Ransom demands come down quickly," Nakia answered, shaking her head.

"I didn’t know Davu before he defected. He is years older than M’Baku and I. I am not sure what his play could be here, what he would want with Zarah. She is an involved chieftess, don't get me wrong. But she doesn’t have any information that could help him attack the tribe or overthrow M’Baku," N'Danna said. He usually could find the strategy in the game before everyone else but even he was stumped.

"We can figure out his reasoning later. Gather your men, N'Danna. We end this now." M’Baku barked as he marched toward the door.

"Hold on Lord M’Baku." T’Challa caught up with the determined chief in the hallway, the rest of the team following close behind. "You need a plan. I take it you have never even been to their compound? Do you even know how to get in? You can’t just kick down the door or search an entire network of caves with no plan or, more importantly, no exit strategy."

"My wife is out there. I know where she is. I don’t care if I have to search 10 mountains worth of caves blindly. I am getting her back. Now get out of my way T’Challa. Do not make me move you." M’Baku’s threat didn’t phase the king, he continued to stand his ground.

"We must come up with a plan on how to extract her. Think about this as a warrior. They know those caves better than you. Who is to say they won’t just move her or harm her when they realize you are there?"

M’Baku struggled to hide his annoyance at the king, finding his ability to be right insufferable.

"Fine, you all have one hour. Formulate a plan or I am knocking down Davu’s front door myself," he asserted with finality.

T’Challa nodded in agreement before addressing N'Danna again.

"Did your guard say anything else? Her condition, what they are doing to her? Where they are keeping her?"

N'Danna rubbed the back of his neck, eyes trained on the floor to avoid the intense and expectant stare from his chief.

"He drew us a map of how to get from the compound entrance to her cell. He has only seen her twice. Davu gathered a group of the most dedicated members in the sect to watch her public beating. It is a ritual... a punishment for those they feel have disrespected the tenants of their faith. She has been beaten off and on. He wasn’t there but he heard her screams. He doesn’t believe she has much time left.”

N'Danna didn’t even need to look at M’Baku to know how he was feeling because he could feel the fury emanating off of his being.

M’Baku turned away from the group and directed his anger toward the nearest thing he could get his hands on. He threw a goblet and a few objects against the wall with all of his might. As they shattered and fell down to the floor, his anger did not break with them. He took a few deep breaths, his shoulders heaving as he tried to calm down. He finally had what he needed to save his wife but he might not make it in time. Because he wasted so much time ignoring what was right in front of him, so busy looking for enemies down the mountains and outside of Wakanda that he ignored the one in his own literal backyard. All the while, his wife was enduring beatings and poisonings, torture many trained soldiers wouldn’t hope to survive. And Zarah was strong, like all Jabari, she could hold her own. But her body wasn’t built for such pain. M’Baku would move heaven and earth to get her back but for the first time, he was forced to contend with what condition that would be in. He shook his head, pulling himself out of his guilt trip. There was no time for self loathing, panic or grief over his damaged ego and pride. He was in a race with Death and the Grim Reaper had a massive advantage. His resolve was firm - whatever condition he found her in, Zarah would receive the best care Wakanda could provide and all the love he could give, he would make sure of it.

"S-s-sorry… this is jus-" M’Baku said through gritted teeth as he struggled to regain his composure in front of the group.

"No apologies necessary… we will get her back brother. She is holding on, surviving for you. I know my sister, she can hold on a bit longer. We can’t give up on her, not when we are this close."

"Well, let us not waste anymore precious time. We will retrieve her tonight. Bast and Hanuman will it to be so," T’Challa declared with conviction befitting a king.

With their orders, the team set to work, formulating a plan to retrieve the young chieftess with their limited window of opportunity. Once they came knocking, it wouldn’t take long for Davu to find out. So they prepared, gathered everything and everyone needed to use the one thing Davu hated against him.

***

Zarah laid on the floor of the room, this one was much smaller as Davu towered over her. She supposed he grew tired of an audience, maybe her unwillingness to die made them all grow bored of her. She was smart, decided to put her brain to use and buy herself some time and distract him from raising her fists to her again.

"So what happens next? You kill me and then what? When my husband finds me, dead or alive, he will have all of you executed. Is that really what you want?" Her words were labored and painful, but she pushed through, hoping to find a crack in his ironclad facade.

"What makes you so sure he will find you? Hasn’t found you yet, has he?" Zarah wasn’t quick enough to keep the obvious pang of disappointment from crossing her face. She would never say it out loud but she expected him to find her faster than this, he was always there to save her when she was drowning. She had been flailing for 40 hours, water clogged, limps sore and oxygen running out by the second.

Where was he?

"Since you are dying, it doesn’t much matter if I tell you, I guess. I will be making contact with him tonight. And when I do, M’Baku will throw the throne and the Jabari at my feet to get you back."

"It doesn’t matter what you do to me. M’Baku will never give up the throne… and if he did, the Jabari will never accept you. You’re a traitor," she spat with all the venom she could muster, directing her frustrations and disappointments at her captor. She didn’t have the strength for physical punches, but she could still get a few verbal ones in. "You don’t know how to lead. You talk about M’Baku and I… but all I see is a man desperately grasping at power he isn’t fit to have. I may die soon but at least I know you’ll be close after me."

Davu’s pacing before her stilled. She wondered if she had finally struck a nerve. After a couple of minutes, he turned and stalked toward her. "You have a lot of nerve for a woman in your position. You don’t know as much as you think. I hoped all of this," he waved around, "would have taught you your place."

They stared at each other for a moment, predator and prey sizing each other up.

"What does he see in you?" Davu muttered, his eyes sweeping up and down her body. "I mean I see why physically, you have quite the body but that only gets you so far. What use is a chieftess that doesn’t understand tradition and her role?"

Zarah shook her head, "I understand trad-" she was silenced as the back of his hand came down on her cheek. It didn’t even hurt at this point, a slap was insignificant in the light of everything else.

"The Jabari deserve a chieftess that understands how to serve… that her singular job is to be of service to her king. Perhaps it is time someone taught you that.” 

He started to advance toward her but stopped suddenly. She didn’t understand until she heard it: indecipherable yells and screams on the other side of their door. Her eyes darted around the room in confusion as the door opened and slammed shut loudly, the click of the lock somehow floating above the chaos to her ears.

Three men ran up to her and Davu.

"My lord, they are here. We must hurry," one of them said, his voice hushed.

Davu made no attempts to move, his eyes pinging between the man and Zarah and clouded with a clear internal struggle. He seemed torn.

"But we are not done! We can’t leave now," he argued.

"Davu! Forget the plan. You can have her and lose your head or you can leave her and save your life. We can’t stay here and we can’t take her, she will slow us down. Hanuman doesn’t want you to die for her," another argued quietly, begging his master to see reason. "They will find us any minute. Their weapons... The lock won’t hold. We must go now."

Zarah didn’t understand the interaction as she watched, her mind starting to win its battle for rest. She was exhausted, the immediate threat to her stalled so her thin thread to the conscious world was quickly unraveling. The world seemed to get further and further away as she watched with hazy eyes as one of them lifted a small trapdoor for the group to climb into. The last thing she remembered was the sound of the trapdoor thudding closed with finality followed by the ear bursting noise of the room door blasting off its hinges before darkness claimed her.

-----

@muse-of-mbaku @destinio1 @great-neckpectations @missmohnique @dawva @jellybean531

As always, thanks for reading! I *hope* yall are still enjoying it/interested? I have 3 random one-shots of their dating/courtship phase that are just fluff and happiness (to counter the sadness I am creating LOL) that I hope to get out this weekend. I am also trying my hand at writing smut for the first time... I love reading it but writing it, whew the struggle haha. But I have a ton of time to write this weekend so we will see. 

[violetsmoak]

Tabula Rasa [1/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20183281/chapters/47822500

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: Tim and Jason have known they are soulmates for years, though neither has said anything about it. Tim thinks Jason doesn't know, and is just trying to live with it. Jason thinks Tim knows but doesn't care, which is fine with him, he thinks the soulmate thing is a crock anyway. But one night, a minor mishap forces them to confront the issue head-on, leading to a series of events no one could have predicted.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #a lie #bright vivid colours #danger #enemies to lovers #soulmate aversion #soulmark tattoo

Canon-Compliance: Follows the New Earth continuity, with elements of New 52 (ie the ones that don’t completely contradict everything that happened pre-Flashpoint). Ignores Rebirth completely. So, up to about 2016 in terms of publication dates? Robins War happened, but Red Hood hasn’t met Artemis or Bizarro, and nothing bad has happened to Roy ffs! 

Beta Reader: I'll get back to you on that.

________________________________________________________________

“Three cheers for the happy couple!”

The south wing ballroom of Wayne Manor erupts with the raucous shouts and applause of a hundred and twenty reception attendees. Tim’s congratulations get lost in the din, but he does catch Dick’s eye and flash him a thumbs up.

Seated at the high table, his older brother leans in and kisses his bride, which causes more cheering and catcalls from the guests, and makes the normally unflappable and newly named Barbara Gordon-Grayson blush.

Tim turns away and pastes a smile on his face as the Davenports, a senior couple and two of Wayne Enterprises' most influential shareholders, approach him.

Time to be ‘on’ again…

A generous mix of family friends (most of whom are vigilantes or heroes), and GCPD officers, fill the ballroom. These are interspersed with a few Haly’s Circus performers, and the requisite number of elite guests required by the Society pages of the Gotham Gazette.

Bride and bridegroom sit at the head table with their respective entourages, engaged in animated chatter. Babs and her maid of honor Alysia dissolve into laughter as Dick says something to Damian, who scowls and turns redder by the minute. The Gordon family is there, the Commissioner conversing in stiff politeness with his ex-wife Barbara, and Bruce is in full “Brucie” mode. In the background, Alfred directs the hired staff with his usual decorum and efficiency.

Across the room, Cassandra drags Stephanie over to the dance floor. At a smaller round table near the bride and groom, Duke just misses being speared with a fork by his girlfriend when he tries to sneak a piece of Izzy’s cake. Helena flirts with both Luke and Kate and Tim’s sure Selina is somewhere in the house stealing something to lure Bruce over to her place later.

It’s rare to have so many members of the family together in one room, and so Tim does his best to ignore the lingering dismay at the glaring absence in their numbers.

Dick and Babs look at each other now and again, like they’re the only ones in the world, and he makes an effort to find it adorable. He bolsters the jovial front he’s been wearing all night, reminding himself that his happiness for his brother and new sister-in-law isn’t something that needs faking. It took so long for them to sort everything out between them; it goes to show that being soulmates doesn’t equal an automatic perfect relationship.

I know that better than anyone.

It’s just getting more difficult with every passing hour to maintain the graceful Timothy Drake-Wayne façade.

“It will be your turn next,” Mrs. Davenport informs him, while her husband nods along. “Since Richard and dear Cassandra have found their matches, you’re the only one left.”

Tim’s smile becomes a little more forced. “Well, there is Damian.”

The demon brat looks as if he swallowed a mouthful of peppercorns as Brucie leans over and ruffles his hair, laughing his raucous fake laugh.

Now I’m glad Dick didn’t ask me to be his best man, or I’d be the chump stuck up there.

Not that he was that upset when he heard the news.

Tim’s distanced himself enough from the loss of Robin to accept Damian needs as much help as they can offer if he is ever to be a ‘real boy’. Little gestures like this from Dick are part of a larger plan. And it was endearing, in a way, to see the kid stomping around in the weeks leading up to the wedding, trying to check off a list of best man duties he’d printed off the internet.

And dissolving into teenaged fury when innocent things went wrong or when the groom teased him by flouting what Damian considered ‘according to convention’.

And then there was that bachelor party he organized…

It would seem extreme trampoline parks were a thing; also, getting banned from said parks within an hour for trampolining while drunk was a thing.

“Yes, but he’s still so…young,” Mrs. Davenport says, bringing him back to the present. Tim perceives how she hesitates on the best word to describe the youngest member of the Wayne family.

“It’s fine, you can call him a prepubescent terror. I always do.”

“Oh, Timothy!” Garish laughter as if he told the most hilarious joke of the season. “You are such a character. Why haven’t you found your someone yet?”

Tim catches sight of Steph once again, dancing with Cass and looking carefree and blissful and in love. And this time it’s a bit harder to experience only joy for his siblings, more of a struggle to fight the pang of hurt and jealousy that rears its head.

“You’re almost eighteen,” her husband remarks, interrupting his thoughts. “Most people find their matches much younger. Eleanor and I met when we were fourteen.”

“Oh, it was a beautiful summer in the Hamptons.”

“And it seems like youth today are finding each other earlier every year.”

“My sister and Stephanie didn’t,” Tim points out, only somewhat strained because that one still stings.

He and Steph had been together for most of their teenage years. She hadn’t possessed a soulmark, and Tim’s…would lead nowhere. He truly loved her, and if things were different, he knows they would have had a happy future. Lots of people whose marks don’t match are.

But then the day Spoiler and Black Bat met, they’d shaken hands, and everything fell into place. He’ll never forget either of their eyes—Steph bemused as her mark appeared for the first time and then exploded into color across her forearms; Cass puzzled until she realized what was happening. Then her face became an open book of joy rivaled only by how she looked when Bruce told her he intended to adopt her.

Faced with their happiness, it was only natural that Tim took a step back, much as it hurt to do.

“Perhaps your soulmate lives in another country,” Mr. Davenport suggests; it is clear he is not picking up on Tim’s reluctance.

“Oh!” his wife cries. “You should go on that television show they have now! You know, the one where they try to help you track down your match? I can’t remember the name, but it’s something like The Amazing Race or the Bachelorette.”

“Perhaps yours is younger than you. That happens sometimes.”

“Yes! May-December relationships aren’t that uncommon with your generation, I hear.”

“Or maybe they’re dead,” Tim suggests, and though his tone is light and friendly, his words shut them up in an instant.

Because if very well could be true.

Tim’s never shown off his mark in public, and he told Steph that exact story when she asked all those years ago. At the time, he wasn’t even lying.

Soulmarks develop around puberty and last the duration of the lifespan of the shorter-lived partner. Some people are born with several, the way Dick was, and some only share platonic or familial bonds, like Alfred and Bruce. Others have none at all. When a soulmate dies, the mark associated with them vanishes.

That’s because most don’t come back from the dead.

Still smiling at the now cringing couple, Tim takes his leave, letting them stew in their faux pas as he wanders toward the bride and groom’s table. He’s reached his limit.

Not wanting to crouch down in the middle of their group, he gestures until his brother sees him and makes an excuse to Babs. She’s following his gaze, offering Tim a worried look, but he smiles and shakes his head, trying to telegraph ‘It’s nothing. Go back to your celebration.’

Dick is red-faced and his eyes brighter than usual when he gets to Tim; people been plying him with generous amounts of alcohol all day. “Hey, Timmy, what’s up?”

“I think I‘ll make my way out,” he replies. “Do a bit of patrolling and then turn in.”

“Tim…”

Dick’s expression becomes concerned, and Tim shifts in discomfort.

“Someone has to be on the streets while you guys are slacking,” he jokes. “You know it took an Act of Alfred to get Bruce to take the night off, right?”

(It was also pointed out that if any of big players had planned anything tonight, probability and precedent suggested they would try it at the Gordon-Grayson reception.)

“You don’t have to do that! I’ve already got one brother missing.”

“Consider this my wedding present. You get to stay and enjoy your party with the rest of the family.”

“You’re just trying to worm your way of giving us a real gift,” Dick accuses, but the words lack malice. With a surreptitious glance around to ensure they aren’t being overheard, he lowers his voice and asks, “Are things getting bad again? Do you need to talk? Because Babs won’t mind if I duck out for a bit.”

And he’s always doing this, checking in with Tim, even years after it’s been an issue.

There’s a distinct possibility Dick has noticed how uncomfortable the atmosphere is making him, despite him doing his utmost to hide it, to keep from casting a dark cloud over the festivities.

And Tim should be okay.

Bruce is back from having lost his memories, Damian’s stopped his determined attempts to sabotage or kill him, his relationship with Dick is almost normal again, he has his team and place with the Titans, and there hasn’t been a major crisis in Gotham for about a month which is a record.

Yet he still feels raw and exposed, ill at ease in his skin.

Bruce has been questioning him a lot more, criticizing the way he handles not only cases but projects at WE. Tim worries there’s less time for him to recover between being Tim Wayne, CEO, and Red Robin. And the Titans are getting to the age where many of them want to strike out on their own or pursue more civilian interests—jobs and schools and a normal life. He respects that, even if he doesn’t understand it.

He has never had a normal life, and never will.

But he does have more and more days now where he looks at himself in the mirror and wonders how he’s supposed to keep doing this forever. Can’t figure out how Bruce has managed it for so long. Tim suspects he’s becoming little more than his daytime public persona and his nighttime alter ego.

Who exactly is Tim Drake?

Instead of voicing any of this, though, he musters up a comforting smile for his brother and assures him, “There’s nothing to talk about. It’s like every day. Just one step at a time, right?”

Dick’s expression clears then, and he nods, relieved. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“And Dick?”

“Yeah?”

“Congrats.”

“Aw, thanks, Timmy.”

A bone-crushing hug later, and Tim’s car peels out of the estate parking garage, still ignoring the growing pit in his stomach.

He returns to his apartment in the Theater District, shedding his suit and tie in a pile that Alfred would have a coronary over if he were there to see it. Jumping in the shower, he scrubs himself of any traces of his cologne or other identifying scents he might have picked up at the reception and tries to get himself back into a clearer headspace.

He pauses for a moment at the sink, trying to shake off the lingering, bone-deep exhaustion. Several prescription bottles line the mirror—various sleeping aids, most of which don’t help anymore (but the rebound insomnia of stopping them isn’t worth the trouble). These days it’s only the heavy-duty sleep narcotics that work when he needs to turn his brain off for a few hours.

Among the personal pharmacy are several combinations of anti-depressants he tried in the past few months. Most of the time he powers through it, the way he’s done his whole life, but in recent weeks Tim’s noticed things getting hard again. The helpful alerts he sets on his phone don’t always convince him to leave his bed and even video games lack the usual draw. He sometimes gets lost in his head for hours; on bad nights, he hesitates a second longer before shooting a grapple line or dodging a knife. In rare moments, he considers his sleeping pills a little too much consideration, at which point he calls Dick or Connor. Talks to someone so he isn’t so alone.

As he dries off, Tim stares down at his right wrist, examining the complicated knotwork design emblazoned there. Swirls of crimson and gold loop in and out of each other, before cutting off along his forearm.

Everyone has a soulmark, an arrangement of swirling shapes across their skin; each is distinctive to the individuals bonded by them. They first appear when a person is in the general vicinity of their soulmate, manifesting as a colorless pattern of darker and lighter shades of melanin. Those patterns fill with bright, rich colors upon physical touching one’s mate. When pressed together, they interlock in only one way and retreat when contact stops.

Soulmates who have reciprocated bonds sport their marks in full and everlasting display. The sight is both beautiful and frustrating to see, even on his family, as he’ll never experience that himself.

His mark might be a stunning amalgamation of scarlet and gold, twisted into a mandala upon his wrist, but it will never be permanent. While it’s been a while since Jason’s made any energetic attempts to kill him, Tim’s resigned himself to living without a completed bond; tolerance is about the only thing he can hope for from his predecessor.

Finding Steph when they were younger had been a joy and a relief. Her not having a mark meant they both had a chance for a fulfilling connection. Until Cass.

Tim forces himself to stop dwelling on it and shoves the bleak thoughts down behind the wall he puts everything uncomfortable and not cohesive to whatever task he’s given himself. Instead, he busies himself with covering up his mark using the spray-on cover that doesn’t fade with water or perspiration, only coming off when scrubbed with a special soap. One of Bruce’s earliest and more practical inventions, since Brucie Wayne and Batman couldn’t have a soulmark in common.

Bruce covers his pretty much all the time, but Tim’s only been covering his when he suits up. He lives his life in disguise, he doesn’t want to hide such an important part of himself when he’s off the clock.

He heads down to the lower levels of his Nest, gets dressed while having the computer scan for trouble. The program calculates probabilities for where violence will crop up, where he should begin his patrol. He hopes for a busy night, something to distract him from his convoluted thoughts.

As usual, he intends to start his rounds off in Tricorner, and then go through Chinatown—which is when he notices movement on a camera that concerns him.

A familiar gleaming scarlet helmet.

Red Hood.

He debates with himself for several minutes.

On the one hand, it’s his regular patrol territory; on the other, seeing the other vigilante tonight, while his mood is already so low, isn’t something he wishes to contend with.

He clenches his fist.

He knew of Jason Todd for a year before discovering the second Robin was his soulmate. By the time he wanted to do anything about it, the older boy was dead, and Tim consigned to grieving in secret.

Then Jason came back, but it was almost worse than him being gone because he hated him. Without having ever met him.

Even now that he’s mellowed out (sort of), Jason appears to reserve more dislike for his successor than anyone else in the family, not counting Bruce and Dick for obvious reasons. Red Hood and Red Robin have run into each other enough in and out of costume that there have been ample opportunities for Jason’s soulmark to make itself known. That Tim has seen nothing close to resembling it means one of two things: either the other man hasn’t developed his mark yet, which is possible albeit rare, or he has, and like Batman, always keeps it covered.

Which says more than enough about his sentiments on the matter.

Between Jason refusing to acknowledge their connection, or just not being aware of it, Tim prefers to believe the latter, if only to make himself feel better. There’s no point in bringing up the soulmate thing at this juncture. He decided years ago to respect the status quo, for the simple reason it’s less painful than the alternative.

All that being said, he doesn’t enjoy watching Jason get in trouble, even more so when the situation is avoidable and he’s near enough to help. At the moment the big idiot is courting a potential gang war.

Sometimes protecting someone means protecting them from themselves and their bad choices, I guess.

Static crackles through the comm in his ear, and then he hears Batman’s low growl. “What’s going on in Chinatown?”

“Why am I not surprised you’re still listening to the comms at your son’s wedding,” Tim sighs. “Nothing. I’m handling it.”

“Are you sure?”

“B, I’ll help A drug you every day for a week,” he threatens. “And you know we both can and will find new and interesting ways of doing it.”

There’s a huff on the other side of the line. “…Noted. Reach out if you need backup.”

“You’ll be the first.”

“You’re lying.”

“Wow, you must be a detective or something,” he deadpans. “Red Robin out.”

Jason is the last person he wants to run into right now, but Tim’s also been cultivating a few informants there and he can’t have that jeopardized.

Looks like I’m going to Chinatown. Hope Lynx is in a good mood…

He wonders if tonight he’ll end up getting beaten up, or just insulted. He’s not even sure which would hurt more.

⁂

Jason goes flying out of the upper story of the restaurant, followed closely by a very tiny woman wielding a very big sword. She reminds him of Cheshire, with a shade less lethality.

Actually, if it were Jade, he would end up critically injured when she lands on him, using him as a cushion against the pavement. He manages to turn his body to land in a way that won’t break his back—though his right side will be a giant bruise tomorrow—and scrambles to his feet.

This is one of the reasons I avoid Chinatown.

Things never go well for him here, especially not since that thing with the Su family. It’s just better to avoid the place. But before that, he and the Ghost Dragons at least used to get along—professional courtesy and all that, along with an unspoken agreement not to step on each other’s toes. 

That’s over, apparently.

All he’d wanted to do was ask some questions. One of his stool pigeons passed him some information on a human trafficking ring; according to him, it was based on Chinatown. It would seem sex slavers were luring young women over to the United States with the premise of work and accommodations.  Then, upon arrival, the girls were hauled into a life of sexual servitude.

Jason didn’t even go in guns blazing this time or wearing the helmet. Just a domino and a hankering for some barbecue pork bun.

So, either someone tipped them off what I was coming around for, or this kid in the mask has something to prove.

There’s a slow curl of heat moving up the back of his left wrist and up his arm, and his first thought is he’s been cut. Except while the sensation is familiar, it isn’t the liquid warmth of blood.

The woman moves fast, and a beat later her sword is swinging downward. Jason’s hands fly to his holsters, thinking he’s going to have to break out the guns after all when there’s a clang.

Suddenly there’s a bō staff in front of his face, catching the sword inches before it slams into Jason’s nose.

Ah. And there’s the other reason I avoid Chinatown.

Because in the past year or so, it’s been part of the patrol route for a certain Timothy Drake.

A.k.a. his replacement.

A.k.a. Red Robin.

A.k.a. his soulmate.

No wonder that warmth in his hand was familiar; the soulmark must have reacted to the younger man’s approach.

After a brief tussle, there’s the sound of a grapple line firing, and then Tim flies upward, ridiculous cape fluttering, still holding the struggling woman.

Her sword stays on the ground.

“Oh, hell no,” Jason growls, because this is his business, damn it!

When he reaches the roof where Tim’s carried off Jason’s would-be-murderer, he notes they are standing close together, conversing in rapid Cantonese. Jason’s rustier at that than he’d like, but he gets the gist when the woman stalks right up to him and begins yelling and gesturing.

Then she shoves him and pushes away; a smoke bomb goes off, and then she’s gone.

Tim makes no move to go after her.

Which, seriously?

Jason stalks over, looming over the shorter man and touching his hand to the still holstered gun in his belt in an implicit (and mostly baseless) threat. He’s always amused at just how much of a height difference there is between him and his replacement, and tonight he makes a point of lording it over him.

“You guys looked awfully cozy there, Timbers.” Which shouldn’t bother him, but he can’t fight a twinge of irritation. “Care to share with the class what your little tête-à-tête was about?”

The cowl covers Tim’s face, but Jason can imagine the judgemental stare.

“She said your poking around her territory will jeopardize her investigation into the sex traffickers.”

“Her investigation? She’s the damn head of the Ghost Dragons!”

“Yeah, and she’s also an undercover operative sent by Hong Kong PD, which I’m only telling you, so you don’t decide to go and kill her for apparent crimes.”

And that was not what he was expecting.

“How do you know this?”

“She told me. She’s one of my CIs.”

“And you believed her?”

“Cass looked into her for me. She’s legit, even if she’s a little…unorthodox.” Tim’s head tilts to one side, considering; with the cowl it makes him look like his avian namesake. “You’d think you’d appreciate that.”

“On the list of things I don’t appreciate, you showin’ up while I’m chasin’ a lead is one of them,” Jason growls. “Don’t you have a party to be at?”

“I ducked out early.”

“Well, that’s lame.”

“Not as lame as someone who ignores the fifteen invitations he was sent.”

Ah, and now they’re back on familiar ground.

“Pfft, I’ve seen enough Brucie to last me several lifetimes.”

“Yeah, but it was for Dick. All you had to do was show up—” his mouth twitches here; Jason can’t tell if it’s amusement or irritation, “—in jeans, even.”

“I’ve been dead once; I don’t need Alfie murderin’ me for that big a faux pas. And somehow I doubt Barbie would appreciate if her wedding photos included Dickiebird sporting a swollen eye.”

Tim sighs. “What are you fighting about this time?”

“Other than the usual stuff? We’re not. But I’m sure he’d put his foot in it at some point and need a nice bit of cognitive recalibration.”

“And you, the perfectly innocent party in all this, would happily provide that?”

“Call it a civic duty.”

Tim shakes his head, but Jason thinks it’s done in amusement this time, instead of exasperation.

“I don’t know how she can settle for that birdbrain,” he continues. “How does she stand bein’ around him so often without wantin’ to punch him in the face every time he opens his mouth?”

“Maybe not every time.”

“Point still stands.”

“Well, they’re soulmates,” Tim says vaguely, distant like he’s not paying attention to what he’s saying. He fiddles with his wrist computer, giving no indication that he is aware of anything else.

Jason’s pretty sure that’s not the case.

After all, he’s practiced in the art of pretending not to feel how his soulmark warms the closer he stands to Tim. There’s no question Tim’s learned to do the same.

It might be hypocritical of him, but that makes him angry somehow.

“As if that explains it all,” Jason sneers. “Come on, Replacement, I thought out of all of them, your whole logical-scientific-question-everything-Klingon-mind wouldn’t go for that hokey soulmate crap.”

“Vulcan.”

That brings him up short. “What?”

“It’s Vulcan culture that’s more focussed on logicality and empirical data-gathering. Klingons are more combat-oriented and tend toward more aggressive means of…” He trails off when he realizes Jason staring at him. “What?”

“You complete nerd,” Jason tells him. “No wonder you left the wedding early. I bet socializin’ with normal people probably stressed you right the fuck out, didn’t it?”

Tim gives a noncommittal shrug.

“Havin’ a soulmate doesn’t mean people should be together,” Jason goes on, filled with the sudden need to hammer home this point. “Look at all the examples from history—Cleopatra and Antony, Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn, Bonnie and Clyde—” He ticks the couples off his finger. “They were all soulmates and they all either made each other miserable or got each other killed.”

“You can’t apply a few historical anomalies to every soulmate pair,” Tim counters. “Life circumstances skew the data.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that fate shouldn’t decide if people will magically work out!”

“That’s not…” Tim appears frustrated, at last, putting down his wrist computer and clenching his jaw. “It’s not supposed to work out magically. It’s about finding the person who completes you. You still need to work at it. It’s not all magically going to fall in place, and you’ll be happy forever right away. Even soulmates don’t get to live perfect lives.”

Ain’t that the truth, Jason muses, considering Tim.

“Sounds like you want a soulmate,” he points out, a little stiffly, and what the hell possessed him to say that?

He wonders what the kid is going to say now, or if this is the day their careful pretense, the lie of not knowing gets shattered.

Luckily, though, Tim avoids opening that can of worms.

He takes a step back from Jason, looks away and mutters, “It’s not relevant to the Mission.” Which is a total cop-out, but Jason will take it. “Anyway, if you’re done causing trouble here and riling up the gangs, I’ll take my leave.”

“Wish you would.”

Tim shoots him an unimpressed glare—or at least, that’s what it seems like to Jason. “Don’t make me come back here. And for god’s sake, at least call and congratulate the happy couple.”

He grapples away rather than allow a witty retort; Jason watches him go with a scowl. Once he’s sure the other vigilante is gone, he tugs the glove off his left hand, frowning at the whorls of crimson and yellow retreating down his forearm and back to his wrist.

His soulmark appeared one night a few evenings before the Garzonas incident. Jason vaguely remembers swinging through an alley to escape yet another argument with Bruce and knocking out a bunch of thugs threatening a kid. He’d been so buzzed on adrenaline and fury he hadn’t noticed the warmth in his wrist. He only caught sight of the mark itself when he returned to the Cave.

And then he spent the night wondering if one of the assholes he knocked around was his soulmate. It wasn’t a comforting idea, and he’d decided then and there to cover up the mark and forget about it. The disappointment about his potential soulmate had been a contributing factor in a long line of shit the universe decided to dump on him that sent him to Ethiopia. If he was linked to scum like that, he wanted to be as far as possible from Gotham.

It never even occurred to him to imagine the kid in the alley was his match. Hell, it didn’t even register when he discovered that Tim Drake had been following Batman and Robin around for years.

Only that day at the Tower, when Jason made his first move against Batman and attacked his replacement, did he finally make the connection.

His mark reacted the minute they were in the same room, spreading across his skin and swirling about seeking its partner. Jason had been so far gone with rage that the sight of it had made him angrier, made him hit harder—because if he didn’t meet Tim before, it meant their bond hadn’t been strong enough to keep him from making the biggest mistake of his life.

It meant he was supposed to meet him after being ripped apart and rebuilt as a weapon.

Luckily, or not, Tim was unconscious before the manifested completed, sneaking out from beneath the long green gauntlets of Jason’s fake Robin suit.

And if he did happen to notice before passing out, the kid hasn’t said anything about it.

Probably hates me and doesn’t want to acknowledge the universe’s idea of a shit joke.

Jason doesn’t blame him. Soulmates are a crock of shit anyway, and Tim’s better off without being tethered to him, and vice versa. They should keep pretending.

Because Jason doesn’t get to be happy.

And Tim deserves better than him because Tim—as much as he’s a pain in the ass—is good.

“And on that note,” Jason murmurs to himself, putting his gauntlet back on, “time to play the villain.”

The tip he received put him in the Ghost Dragons’ crosshairs—which means someone on his payroll is making a move, either against him or against someone else.

Time to find out for sure.

And no more moping over this soulmate crap.

Johnny Lino is the head of an investment company that’s just a front for his money laundering. He’s been passing the Red Hood information about his clients for the better part of a year now, ever since Jason put the fear of Hood in him. Quite a feat, considering the man’s a few inches taller and broader.

Jason finds him in a condo off the Diamond District, watching the Knights game and stuffing his face with pretzels.

Ponzi schemes don’t buy manners, I guess.

“Johnny,” he greets in a clear, would-be friendly manner that has the older man choking up his most recent handful. “Long time no see. Got a bone to pick with you.”

He expects there to be some mumbling and groveling, a few bald-faced lies that require the generous application of foot to face and the reassurance that everything in Jason’s sandbox is back to the way it should be.

So, it surprises him when Johnny scrambles for something that Jason notes too late is a panic button. All of a sudden, half a dozen masked men in combat gear and carrying assault rifles are busting through the door.

“That’s a bit of an overreaction to some conversation, don’t ya think?” Jason asks, throwing himself into action to deal with the interlopers. Bullets fly and knives slice toward him, but in five minutes he’s standing in the ruins of the room with six unconscious men.

And one dead one.

Johnny’s got a neat hole in the side of his head, from one of his hired muscle’s guns, Jason presumes.

“And doesn’t that say a lot about the quality of hired muscle in Gotham these days?” he grumbles, kicking at the body. “Can’t even trust your own people not to shoot you by accident.”

He can hear sirens, knows a neighbor or someone has called in the noise and heads for the fire exit before anyone can link him to the scene. That’s all he needs is the big Bat thinking he pulled the trigger in there.

And damn it, the giant bastard was one of my best sources. Now I’ve got to find someone else.

The encounter bothers him.

He’s had people on his payroll get shifty before, but it’s been his experience that there’s more of a prelude before the attempt to stab him in the back. They try to run or talk their way out of it; it seems Johnny went all out, trying to take out the Red Hood, all because of a bit of questionable information.

If he was so desperate to hire a kill squad rather than answer some well-deserved questions…

Maybe it’s not me that spooked him.

He thinks back to the shot that killed Johnny, remembers the angle it hit the head, and where the exit wound was. The opposite direction from where the thugs entered—from the window.

“There was another shooter,” he realizes.

A quick visit to the building opposite confirms his suspicion: the scrape where someone set up a tripod, bullet casing rolled to one side.

It wasn’t Johnny afraid to talk to the Red Hood—someone else feared he would.

Question is, were they worried he’d talk or worried he’d talk to me?

⁂⁂⁂ 

Next Chapter

This blog isn’t my primary, so my reblogs don’t show up very well. As such, please reblog the fic, otherwise not a lot of people are going to see it :)

<3 Violet

[notafeeling]

Infinitesimal (Part I)

A/N Infinitesimal (originally titled in a haze as “LOGAN IS BARRY BLUEJEANS”) is a Sanders Sides AU set in the world of The Adventure Zone: Balance, a DnD podcast made by the McElroy brothers. If you have not started The Stolen Century arc and don’t want spoilers, do not read.

Pairing: eventual logince (Logan/Roman)

Genre: scifi; slowburn

Warnings: temporary character death; TAZ-canon-typical violence

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary:

Logan had always thought that being a human meant he had to work harder and faster than everyone else to truly make a difference in the world. When his home is consumed by an intergalactic force known as The Hunger and he’s forced to go on the run through space with six others for a century, he realises that that’s not exactly true.

Or, Logan accepts an offer to join the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration and to travel around the mysterious planes that control his planet for a few months, but ends up hopping realities and dying a whole bunch alongside his mismatched crew members, learning how to love somewhere along the way.

-

Logan knows that, as a human, he has certain limitations in this world. For one thing, his 80-year expected lifespan is nothing compared to the centuries-old elves and dwarves who are considered teenagers. For another, it means he can’t rely on magic. He doesn’t have enough time to spend it mastering something he was never meant to have.

He turns to science at a young age.

The stars call him from outside his dirty, cracked window, and he dreams of the day he can fly among them. He wants to touch, he wants to grow, he wants to be something more.

Even at 8, he knows that his world doesn’t have the technology for that, and won’t for a very long time. It doesn’t stop him from yearning, though.

His parents send him to an academy at 15, only because he managed to get a scholarship. He graduates at 17 at the top of his class.

It’s still not enough.

He devotes the next five years of his life to mapping the stars and their constellations. Nothing that hasn’t been done before, but Logan’s determined to do this on his own.

If he won’t be able to live among them, then he’ll commit them to memory. Maybe he’ll travel along the constellation Pneuma Cascade in his dreams.

-

Having two suns is a fact everyone on Phaethon has long since accepted. The early civilisations made entire mythos surrounding those two stars alone, and children of his world are told stories of two lovers who chase each other endlessly. The second is dimmer because of his eternal pining, but he will follow the other to the end of times. When parents are asked why, they reply “because they’re in love,” and that’s all there is to that story.

Logan’s long-since moved on from folklore and the notion of love. Instead, he wants to know how. How can these two massive celestial objects coexist without succumbing to one another's’ gravitational pull? How does his planet, as small as it is, only orbit around the two without being sucked in?

Those questions give Logan purpose.

-

At 30, Logan finally has something to show for all his research.

The problem with examining two suns is that first of all, you shouldn’t look directly at them, and secondly, they’re too far away to properly study.

He devises a tool. It’s mostly cylindrical, and the otherwise hollow interior contains several panes of glass. Originally it was designed to filter out the sunlight, but Logan quickly figures out how to magnify the image he’s seeing.

(It’s kind of embarrassing that it took someone with corrective lenses for his short-sightedness to figure that one out, but all that matters is that it works.)

It takes him a few more years to have a perfected prototype. And he sees something no one else has.

He can see the suns in shocking clarity, but he doesn’t care about them (too much) anymore. Instead, he focuses on the slight rift between them. It’s not exactly a rift, more like… a divide. A shift.

Logan spends countless hours studying this, almost forgetting to breathe at times. This is what it’s all been leading to. There’s more! He can be more, do more!

It doesn’t take him much longer to figure out that the second sun is a double of the first. No, not exactly a double.

The second sun comes from the Ethereal Plane. The existence behind theirs, to put it simply. So it’s not a double, more like… the same one, but ever so slightly behind.

And the divide? It’s a weakened point between his plane - the Material Plane - and the other. Which means-

Holy shit. If there are other weakened points to other planes, then they could travel. He could explore! Not just magic-users who pop into the Ethereal Plane for brief moments, nor necromancers trying to break into the Astral Plane, no. Everyone.

Notes and ideas spill furiously from Logan’s mind, down through his arm and onto a thick, leather-bound journal. He lives off of caffeine and adrenaline as he completes his paper on Interplanar Travel, and not long after, he’s contacted by Thomas Sanders, the leader of the newly established Institute of Planer Research and Exploration (IPRE, for short).

Thomas offers him a position on the team of explorers that will be tasked with travelling across planes and, hopefully, beyond that at some point. He explains that although not too long ago, their world certainly didn’t have the technology, ever since the Light of Creation fell there’s been massive leaps in scientific advancement.

(Logan must have been holed up in his study during that time, as he has to pretend he knows exactly what his future boss is referencing.)

It’s everything Logan’s ever wanted, so of course, he accepts.

-

YEAR 0.

10 months later, and he meets his teammates. He’s already known and worked closely with Thomas (soon to be Captain Sanders) for the past few months, and he’s certainly earned Logan’s respect, but the rest of the team has some… shortcomings.

For one thing, he isn’t sure why they need two wizards who also double as cooks (Roman and Virgil) though he supposes the fact that they’re twins who seem to have done everything together makes them a package deal.

And, okay, he gets why they might need a cleric, but surely Patton could also double as the journalist (a young tiefling named Kalumnia), or vice-versa!

Also, if they have a ship that can withstand the heat of passing between two suns and the extremities of space, then why can’t they add a few weapons? Why do they need a security officer? Can’t the twins do magic?

He doesn’t have much time to convince Thomas to hire more fitting members (why not a maintenance crew?) because he meets all these people right before they’re given matching red robes with IPRE emblazoned on them and are told to walk onstage in front of the largest gathering of humans, elves, orcs, tieflings, dragonborns, etc. that Logan’s ever seen in his life.

He’s more than happy to let his Captain manage the questions from various reporters while he sits back and attempts to get to know his crewmates. After all, he’ll be living with them for a few months, possibly longer if the mission is a success. Might as well get comfortable.

“So,” Logan murmurs to the person he’s seated next to (Roman? Or maybe Virgil?), “why did you sign up for this?”

The high-elf casts a cursory glance in his direction as his twin whispers something in his ear, making him snort. They’re definitely laughing at Logan, which. Okay. He can deal with childish behaviour.

“Look! His ears are going red. You embarrassed him, Ro,” the furthest one says.

“I did not! You’re the one who made me laugh!” Roman retorts.

It’s a relief when Thomas calls him up to the podium.

“Salutations. My name is Logan and I’m the Science Officer of IPRE.” His voice rings out all around him and reporters call his name. He chooses one at random - a young human woman with wild hair.

“Hi, Linda from Phaethon Press here. I read your report on Interplanar Travel and I’ve been blown away with the progress you’ve made since!”

“Thank you.”

“Anyway, could you explain what you’re hoping to find or learn from your journey?”

Logan’s struck once more by how much he has to explore and a wide smile spreads over his features. “Well, not much is known about the other planes. The Ethereal Plane is usually only used for short periods of travel because of its ever-changing nature. To stay there too long would leave you clueless about how to get back to the Material Plane. And we all know about the Astral Plane, where the departed souls from our plane go. While we don’t have any concrete goals because of our limited knowledge, we do aim to explore the other 9 planes. We don’t know what we’ll find - maybe new life forms or energy or-”

Roman fakes a cough as he exclaims, none-too-quietly, “Nerd alert!”

Logan clears his throat. “Uh, so, we basically aim to explore and research the planes.”

“You don’t say,” he hears Virgil mutter.

God, he can’t imagine living with these people for the next few months.

-

The night before they leave is spent drinking onboard the newly-christened “Starblaster”. Logan makes a face every time he hears the name, but it was suggested by a drunk, giggly Roman and backed up by the equally intoxicated members of his team.

He wants to put as much distance as possible between himself and the twins, so he joins Patton and Kalumnia, who spends half the conversation listening and the other half writing down everything that’s happening. Logan has to admire her penmanship.

“Goodness, I wonder what other planes there are?” Patton wonders aloud.

Logan’s interest is piqued immediately. “Oh! I’ve actually been thinking about that a lot. We know there’s some sort of Celestial Plane because that’s where clerics draw their power from- though I suppose you already know that.”

“I do, but I don’t mind!” Patton smiles.

This guy is infinitely better than the twins, Logan decides. “So that, the Ethereal and the Astral are the planes that have the most impact on ours, so they must be closer or at least, larger and more prominent than the other planes. Therefore, the other planes aren’t likely to bear any sort of intelligent life, but the magic there could be completely different.” Magic that he might possess.

“That’s so cool!”

Kalumnia nods. Her bright, golden eyes watch Logan as he continues to talk, pointed ears perked. Patton asks questions and his own brilliant blue eyes widen whenever Logan mentions something he previously hadn’t known. Even Missy, the security officer Logan has avoided due to the scowl she wears, wanders over and joins the discussion.

For the first time in his life, Logan’s listened to. He could get used to this.

-

It turns out he could and should get used to it because as they leave Phaethon, a thick, suffocating darkness descends on it. They catch a glimpse of 11 other planes before black tendrils shoot out of their plane and pierce the others, and slowly drag it into its massive, incomprehensible form.

“Head for the rift!” Logan yells as his Captain maneuvers them through space.

Columns shoot out at them but the Starblaster dodges them with ease. Alarms blast, ringing sharp and shrill as they rocket towards the two suns, picking up speed each nanosecond.

He, Kalumnia, Thomas and the twins are huddled at the front, staring straight forward into the divide.

Patton and Missy are the only ones brave enough to watch as everything they’ve ever known, everyone they’ve ever loved, is consumed.

They just have to get to the rift. If they do that, they can break through to another plane. They can survive, they can run. They just have to get through, and they’re almost there, so close-

“Right!” Logan cries. Whatever’s attacking comes through the rift, barrelling straight for them.

Thomas jerks his controls to the right, tilting the ship so far that Logan crashes into the side.

His crewmates scream as they collide with something, sending them spiralling through space. Hungry black surrounds them, reaching out, trying to ensnare them and pull them in, but it only ends up flinging them in another direction.

“Change of plans!” Thomas yells, lifting his controls high, trying to break free.

The monster makes one last desperate grab, colliding with the bottom of their ship with a loud clang!

They’re flipped end over end, further and further from the rift. Further from the other planes. Logan’s head bounces off of hard metal, his body thrown around like a sack of bricks. There’s a snap, and then burning pain shoots through his right arm. His vision fades as the pain magnifies, becoming so intense it's unbearable. The panicked yells of his teammates seem so distant, but he manages to pick out a scream of “Roman!” and Patton making one last, desperate effort to heal them.

Black greets him soon after.

-

YEAR 1.

Pure, white light surrounds him. Threads of light stitch him together, restoring his body, and it’s not long before it unravels and reveals the rest of the IPRE members. Logan watches as its wisps are drawn away and disappear from sight, fading into the night sky. Except… he’s on the Starblaster’s deck. So it’s not the sky, it’s… It’s space.

There’s not a single scratch on any of them - apart from the battlescars Missy shows off proudly, but they had always been there. Nothing shows that they had just survived an attack on their home planet, unless… Unless they didn’t survive? Or Logan dreamt it? Or…

A sob breaks the stunned silence surrounding them. Virgil pushes past Logan as he runs toward Roman, tackling him to the floor.

“You died!” He screams. “You died. You were dead. I saw it; I saw your body in front of me, Ro. How are you- how could you-”

Roman pries his arms out from under Virgil and wraps them around his brother. “Shh, it’s okay, I’m here,” he murmurs, stroking Virgil’s purple hair. His eyebrows are knitted together, trying to remember what happened.

Logan does the same.

“Are we- did we die?” Patton whispers. “Where are we? Where’s Thomas?”

At that, Logan realises that there are only six of them. He bolts towards the cockpit. The rest of the team, barring the twins who seem content to fuss over each other, follow in hot pursuit.

The door slams open as the four of them charge through. There, at the controls, is their Captain.

He bolts out of his chair and spins around, hands raised as he readies a spell. When he sees his crew, his whole body relaxes and he goes limp. Missy rushes forward to steady him.

“You’re- you all disappeared,” Thomas breathes out as he’s lowered to the floor. “You all were taken by this- by this light, and then I was surrounded too! I came to back in this chair and you were all gone. I thought- I thought I was alone.” His voice drops to a whisper at the end there and even Logan has to inhale deeply to stop the panic that rises when he imagines being forever alone in space.

Patton grabs Logan’s wrist, pulling him towards Thomas and Missy, and Logan doesn’t fight it when he’s scooped into a hug.

Patton’s arms may not be able to reach around all of them, but they’re warm and comfy and remind him of his parents. At least they didn’t die at the hands of that… thing.

Logan’s the first to pull away. “We need to take stock of what we know and what we have. Our first priority is to figure out what that being was and if it’s going to attack us again. Then…” His gaze catches sight of a plane. And another. And another! Excitement stirs inside him. “Then we explore.”

-

It takes them around ten minutes to realise that the twelve planes they’re flying around are completely different from theirs. It takes Logan two days to draw the conclusion that by not jumping through the rift and being thrown off course, they somehow managed to enter a new… planar system? Reality? He couldn’t say.

Basically, there’s no going back home - if their world even still exists.

Roman and Virgil are the only ones who don’t seem to care at all.

Logan doesn’t know much about them (other than the fact that they delight in tormenting him) so he doesn’t want to judge, but their carefree attitude is somewhat rude to Patton, Missy and Thomas who are in mourning.

On the third day, they decide to test their luck on this new Material Plane. As Thomas eases the Starblaster into it, they’re greeted with luscious green forests and wide, stretching savannahs and grasslands and mountains-

The likelihood of that is astounding, and Logan spends quite some time with Kalumnia chronicling the biomes of this planet.

But that’s about where the similarities end. There are no oceans, though there are lakes and rivers, so water isn’t a problem. However, the fauna is even more interesting.

The population of this strange place is mostly made up of giant creatures that are up to ten, twenty, thirty times their tiny, Phaethonian frames.

“Now I’m not the only dwarf,” Patton jokes when they first hover above the planet, trying to find a safe place to land. Logan lets out a stunned laugh, but it's more from the joy of a new discovery than anything else.

-

That night, Logan lays on the deck of the Starblaster, admiring the countless new constellations and planes, all his to explore!

It’s so clear, up here on a mountain in an undeveloped world, far from artificial light sources. It’s serene, it’s beautiful, it’s-

“Ro, let him be a nerd in peace.” Virgil’s furious whisper cuts through the pristine air and immediately, Logan has a sour taste in his mouth.

“Hush, brother.”

Logan resolutely keeps gazing up at the stars, ignoring as Roman’s boots clack against the metal. He ignores it when they stop by his head, and he continues to pretend Roman doesn’t exist even when he plonks himself down beside him.

“You’re missing out on a glorious feast, you know,” Roman says at last.

Logan tries to detect the sarcasm or the hidden meaning, but he either needs to brush up on his social skills or there isn’t any. Which, coming from Roman, is impossible.

He slides his eyes to his left. In the starlight, Roman’s usual vibrant red robe and equally crimson hair are paler, softer. Instead of his constant smirk and perfect death stare, he seems almost wistful as he too stares into the sky. Logan tears his gaze away and clears his throat.

“I’m fine with freeze-dried cubes of nutrition.”

Roman laughs, and that too is gentle compared to the harsh delight Logan had committed to memory after only a few days. It’s hard not to memorise it when it’s being directed at you more often than not. “Weren’t you the one talking about rationing? C’mon, Lo, me and Virge went through all that effort to take down one of those beasts! Aren’t you going to at least try it?”

Maybe Roman just has a really annoying whiny-voice or maybe he’s hungrier than he thinks because Logan actually considers it. Then he remembers that they don’t know if the meat on this planet is even edible, let alone feast-worthy. “Who said you could call me Lo?” he replies instead. It comes out harsher than he intends.

Roman scoffs and jumps up on his feet. Logan frowns and looks up at him, only to find a scowl as Roman avoids his eyes. “Fine, whatever. Sorry for trying to include you, I guess.” The clacking of his shoes is considerably louder as Roman stomps back to his twin, who murmurs a quiet “I told you so.”

Logan’s insides squirm uncomfortably. Something in him urges him to apologise, but he fights back the feeling. He didn’t do anything wrong. He just wanted to ensure the food wasn’t going to kill him. What’s so wrong with trying to survive?

(Later that night, he sneaks into the kitchen and finds a plate with a slab of meat and a couple of roots. He throws away the note that reads “You’re welcome -R” and braces himself for the first forkful of his new diet. Instead of the strange, bland flavour Logan expected, when he bites into the mouth-wateringly tender meat, he’s met with an explosion of tastes. He can see why Thomas insisted on tasking both Roman and Virgil with cooking now.)

-

The Light of Creation falls early the next day. Logan misses it (again), but when he wakes up, it’s to Thomas flying the Starblaster at breakneck speed towards where it fell.

“Why has it come here?” Patton asks. No one has an answer.

They find it a few hours later, and already, the surrounding fauna looks… smarter?

There’s a cacophony of sound as a mixture of bleets, honks and moos turn into something singular, cohesive. It’s the sound of language.

“After only this much time?” Logan questions.

“Yeah, well. That’s kind of what happened in our- in Phaethon,” Thomas explains. “When it fell, it didn’t take long for people to start inventing things. You invented your little, uh, cylinder thing-”

“Telescope.”

“Yeah, telescope, when it fell.”

“It was a work in progress!”

“But you only perfected it after the Light, right?”

Logan can’t say for sure, so he stays silent. It’s not like it’s a bad thing to make scientific advancements, it’s just… He wanted it to happen from his own merit. Not because some mythical light suddenly gave him the ability to.

“So,” Virgil pipes up from where he’s leaning against the wall, “should we take it?”

“I really want to steal it,” Roman says.

Logan sighs. “Can we at least see what these animals do with it first?”

“No! I mean, yes, but we shouldn’t steal it,” Patton says, wide-eyed.

“It’s not stealing,” Virgil replies. “It’s not theirs.”

“But it’s not ours either!”

“Not until we take it.” Roman pats Thomas’ shoulder. “C’mon, Cap, let’s get this thing.”

They wait a week and then bring the Light onboard.

-

In the following months, Virgil and Roman rope Patton into learning the new animal language and over dinner, they talk in a series of grunts and honks that make Logan infuriated. He pretends he isn’t trying to figure it out by delving into the food (still as delicious as the first time, if not more) but at some point, Virgil and Roman confront him.

“Want us to teach you?” Roman asks, and Logan, pride be damned, nods.

-

Missy starts building herself a home. She gets Logan to make a saw and then she chops down a tree (and she only needs the one). After a month, she has a nice home that she and Kalumnia often stay in.

Patton studies the flora while Logan studies the fauna, and together they help Kalumnia with her chronicling of this world. Dwarves must have some connection with a nature god because the plants lean into Patton’s gentle touch. Flowers spring up underneath his fingers and he thrives out in the jungle.

Thomas remains on the ship, but he’s never alone. They meet up for dinner every night (Missy loves climbing a mountain every day, for some weird reason) and they talk about the progress they’re making in this world.

Logan can speak the language too now, and even though he hated it before, more often than not he, Roman, Virgil and Patton are communicating in it.

It’s a nice rhythm they’ve settled into. Logan thinks he could get used to this.

-

Another month passes. Everything goes to shit.

Patton notices it first. The grass is dull; the wind quiet. The sky is darker and the lakes are no longer a clear crystal blue. He tells the others about this and Logan wonders if it’s because of their ship, or their presence, or maybe the Light.

He’s answered a few hours later when the 13th plane arrives.

Its form is bigger this time. Darker. More violent. Shadows pierce down from the sky and form humanoid shapes - some short and stocky, some with pointed ears, some who look human - and Logan’s struck with a terrifying realisation that these shadows are people from Phaethon. Or, he should say, were.

Logan and Patton aren’t far from the ship, and the twins, although they like to explore, have been sticking close by recently. Kalumnia had already been in her study onboard, and Thomas is at the controls when Logan enters. Missy, however…

As Thomas brings the ship up into the sky, the rest of them search desperately for Missy. They know they can’t stay too long. This thing, this beast, it’s stronger. Smarter. They need to escape before one of the shimmering black columns pierces their ship and they’re bound to this plane.

“There!” Virgil cries, his elven eyes picking up Missy’s struggling form.

She’s fighting valiantly, taking out multiple shadows with just one swing of her axe. The animals around her stomp and charge, but it’s not enough.

“I can’t get close enough!” Thomas says, weaving the ship through the black.

“Fine!” Roman shouts, and then he runs out of the cockpit and onto the deck, then flings himself overboard.

Virgil rushes to the edge. “Bro, what the fuck?!” He calls, before he too leaps over the railing.

They see the twins float downwards, blasting off spells as they go, and it’s not long before they’re down there fighting with Missy.

Roman’s body becomes a force of fire, burning bright as he flings massive fireballs into the fray. Virgil summons a massive bolt of lightning and the resulting thunderclap is so loud it hurts Logan’s ears.

“We have to go,” Thomas murmurs. Logan and Patton’s heads whip to him. “We have to go, now!” He says more forcefully this time, and Patton starts arguing with him.

“We can’t leave them behind!”

“If we don’t leave then that’s just more carnage, more bodies for that thing to consume. We’re leaving.”

Logan has never, ever, heard such a cold voice coming from Thomas. But he understands.

“Look, Patton,” he begins, “when we left Phaethon, I died. And so did Roman. But we came back. I don’t know how, and I don’t know if it will keep happening, but we need to leave. Or else there’s no hope for them.”

Patton tries to argue, but Thomas is already flying them away, out of the Plane, then out of the Planar System. He doesn’t react when Patton pulls at his arms, trying to get him to turn around. He’s not cold, he’s calculating. Thomas- Captain Sanders is making an executive decision and Logan knows he can’t change it.

The black follows them, and he sees it withdrawing from the planet in favour of pursuit. The cogs in his head turn as the white threads from a year ago weaves around them again, and Logan manages to cry out “It wants the Light!” before he’s wrapped up entirely.

-

YEAR 2.

Logan wakes up on the deck of the Starblaster, Virgil behind him. Like last time.

He furrows his brows and races back to the cockpit, and sure enough, his captain is there.

When everyone piles in, Logan’s in the middle of theorising.

“Every time we leave a planar system, we’re brought back to our original positions,” Logan says, mostly to himself but Kalumnia starts to transcribe what he’s saying in her journal. “That thing-”

“The Hunger!” Roman supplies.

“Not your most creative name.”

“Got a better one, Virge?”

“Fine, the Hunger wants the Light of Creation. When we left with the Light, it left the planes alone and tried to follow us. When did the Light fall on Phaethon?”

“About a year before the Hunger came,” Kalumnia murmurs.

“And it was about a year after the Light that the Hunger found us on that plane, too!” Logan clasps his hands together and straightens up. “Is there a blackboard on this ship?”

Kalumnia nods and leads them to her study, then wordlessly hands Logan a piece of chalk.

It’s the first time Logan has been in here, and he’s blown away by the countless journals and books from their home planet that remain on the sturdy oak bookshelves. There are also sketches pinned to a corkboard, mostly depicting the strange life they had encountered on the other planet. They’re only sketches, but the extraordinary amount of detail blows him away. How had Kalumnia kept this to herself all this time?

He shakes his head and gets to work. “So, what do we know?” He asks, then divides the board in two. He labels one column “Already Know” and the other “Need to Know”, then scribbles some notes in the former.

“The Hunger’s shadows looked like Phaethonians,” Missy says.

“Yeah, but they could change their form at will. I would blast one with fire and the black would disperse before coming together as a new Phaethonian.”

“It was stronger this time,” Virgil adds, shaking ever so slightly. Roman wraps an arm around him.

Logan nods and continues scrawling. “That means that when it consumes a plane, it adds it to its… collection. Its army.”

“We just left a plane full of massive creatures! How are we supposed to fight that?!” Roman exclaims.

“Well, no. As I said previously, when we left, it followed us. It started to withdraw from the Plane.”

Patton turns to Logan. “You mentioned the Light before we- we reformed. Why would it want that?”

He shrugs. “That’s why we have a Need to Know column,” he answers, then adds that exact question to the board.

“A better question,” Virgil steps forward and takes the chalk from Logan, “is how are we reforming?” He looks around expectantly.

“There’s this light that surrounds us - almost like thread.”

“I think I know what that is,” Captain Sanders says at the same time Kalumnia adds, “It’s the Bond Engine.”

Seeing their blank looks, both of them shake their head.

“We’ve been living on this ship for a year. How do you not know what the Bond Engine is?” Kalumnia has a rare smile on her face as she and the Captain launch into an explanation.

“The Bond Engine doesn’t use any fuel, it runs on bonds.”

“Bonds are what tie us to the Planar System. They’re the experiences and the connections we have to the planes, and it allows us to travel between them without the risk of ending up in a black hole.”

“How come we were able to leave both Phaethon’s System and the other one?” Patton asks.

Kalumnia and Thomas shrug, but Logan’s quick to reply. “It must be the Hunger. We haven’t been able to leave any Planar System until it comes. It must… cut our bonds with the planes. That would mean we don’t have ties to the Astral Plane, so if we die, we don’t go there. Instead, the Bond Engine brings us back onto the ship, in our original positions.”

“So what I’m hearing is,” Roman begins with a grin that he shares with Virgil, “we’re basically immortal, right?”

“No, because we do still die, we just come back-”

“Technicalities, technicalities,” Roman dismisses. “Anyway, this year I’m going to do some wild shit!”

“If you die on me, I’m going to be so fucking pissed,” Virgil threatens, but he also seems excited to be able to do whatever without consequences.

-

The Light falls into an ocean. They’re unable to retrieve it when the Hunger comes and instead, fly away as soon as they see its black pillars descend. Call them cowards, but at least there wasn’t much life on this planet to begin with. If there was any, it’s all gone now.

-

YEAR 5.

Logan hadn’t meant to become friends with the twins. It’s more like that they decided they were going to hang out with him, and he hasn’t been able to shake them since.

He finds he doesn’t mind, which is a feat in and of itself, considering he hasn’t had friends for the roughly four decades he had been alive for.

-

One night, they’re stargazing. Well, Logan is.

Roman and Virgil are wrestling each other next to him and surprisingly, Virgil wins.

“How are you so strong?” Roman whines, flexing his arms to show off his quite impressive muscles.

Virgil shrugs. “I chug my bone juice,” he replies, and Logan decides not to question what he means by that. “Do you give up yet?”

Roman laughs and charges Virgil. His momentum carries him forward and he crashes into his twin, then he swipes his leg out from under him and pins Virgil to the ground. “Take that!”

“Oof, my bones,” he deadpans, and Roman helps him up.

“Are you two done?” Logan asks.

Instead of insulting him, like they would’ve done five years ago, they nod and sit beside him. Logan’s chest flutters when Roman leans into him easily, knee gently bumping his own every now and again.

“So,” Virge begins, and judging by the glint in both his and Roman’s eyes, Logan has a right to be worried.

“We were thinking,” Roman continues, “that we don’t know much about you.”

“And we know everything about each other!”

“So why not tell us about yourself?”

Logan sighs. “What do you want to know?”

Virgil considers this, then asks, “Do you have a last name?”

“No.”

“Cool,” Roman says, “It’s Bluejeans now.”

“What?” Logan splutters. “You can’t just give people last names! And these jeans are comfortable and practical!”

“Whatever you say, Mr Bluejeans, sir,” Virgil mock salutes.

Logan tries to argue with them, but it’s clear he’s getting nowhere. “Fine! Have it your way, Virgil… Purplehoodie.”

Virgil laughs, and okay, it wasn’t his best work, but it’s not like Bluejeans is any better. “So what? Roman and I are twins. Does that make him Roman Purplehoodie? I don’t see a fucking hoodie, nor anything purple. That doesn’t make sense, Lo.”

Logan doesn’t react to the nickname. Instead, he exclaims, “Neither does Bluejeans!”

“You wear blue jeans!” Roman protests.

“And your brother wears a purple hoodie!”

“Not all the time!”

“Almost all the time!”

“Oi, keep it down!” Missy shouts from somewhere inside the ship. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“Don’t worry, we’re just playing card games in here!” Patton tells them.

“They ain’t need to know that!”

Even though Missy was bluffing, they stop arguing.

“Do I get to ask a question now?”

“Fine, shoot Mr Bluejeans.”

“I’m never going to get rid of that name, am I?” Both Virgil and Roman shake their heads. “Alright. Can I ask a question now?”

The twins glance at each other and shrug. “Seems fair.”

Logan ponders for a moment. He doesn’t really have any burning questions, but he supposes there had been one thing he was always curious about. “Are you two identical?”

Virgil’s gaze flashes to Roman, then back at Logan. The movement is so quick he almost misses it.

Roman leans back on his palms and puts on an easy smile. Logan knows that he’s only pretending, but he doesn’t get the chance to backpedal before Roman answers him. “Nope,” he pops the p.

Logan waits a moment, then opens his mouth when no explanation follows, but Roman must have changed his mind about how much he wants to share.

“I’m trans,” he blurts. Logan watches as Virgil’s arm snakes around his brother and studies Logan for his reaction.

He doesn’t miss a beat as he says, “Oh, but you look too alike to not be identical.” It’s awkward and kind of clumsy, but he genuinely means it in an “I thought you were identical twins” way and not a “How can you possibly look so masculine?” way. Virgil and Roman seem to pick up on it, at least.

“Genetics, dumbass,” Virgil replies, and the three of them laugh. “Honestly, the scientist should know this!”

“I’m an astrophysicist, not a biologist.”

“Those words? Fake.”

“You can’t call words fake.”

“All words are fake!” Roman and Virgil retort at the same time.

Logan goes to argue. Then he considers it. And okay, maybe they have a point. Especially their words. He’s not sure if they’ll find another Planar System that speaks Common - or any of Phaethon’s languages, in fact. It doesn’t stop him from wanting to learn the others’ languages though, so he gathers up the courage to ask a second question.

“Would you two mind teaching me Elven?”

-

YEAR 12.

It’s a good thing he’s fluent in Elven now, because this new place is entirely elves. It’s literally called Elfington.

He and the twins have no problem fitting in, and to their surprise, neither does Kalumnia.

She shrugs and with an abashed smile she admits, “I know all of Phaethon’s languages.”

Roman and Virgil share a wide-eyed look. “That’s how you always knew about our pranks!”

“We thought you were a mindreader or something!” Roman adds.

Kalumnia laughs. “I do know that spell, but I wouldn’t invade your privacy like that.”

-

That year, he and the twins almost exclusively talk to each other. Kalumnia joins in on their exploits around town, and Logan notes that she’s much less reclusive than at the beginning of their journey. He supposes over a decade of selective company would result in that.

Wait. Holy shit. Had they really been doing this for a decade?

Logan catches a glimpse of himself in a store window. At fifty, he expects wrinkles around his eyes like the ones Patton’s had since day one, but no. There aren’t creases in his forehead, no grey hairs, nothing. For all intents and purposes, he hasn’t changed one bit.

Maybe Roman and Virgil weren’t too far off when they joked about immortality.

“And they call me vain!” Roman huffs as he comes to stand beside him. Despite his comment, he leans in to fix his hair in the reflection, running his slender fingers through newly-dyed red. It’s like this at the beginning of every cycle, and for the past week they’ve been on Elfington, all Roman has talked about were the hairdressers and the possibility of dye.

Logan’s friend is always excited when they begin a new year just because he gets the colour back in his hair. He suspects Virgil shares the same enthusiasm, but at least he doesn’t talk his ear off about how he should be able to invent dye when it starts to fade. For starters, he’s an astrophysicist, and secondly, he’s busy, thank you very much.

He wants to study the Light. Considering it has such a big impact on both the Starblaster crew and whatever plane it falls on, they need to learn more about it. Maybe one of these cycles, they can find a way to fight off the Hunger.

Logan doesn’t know how that would work, but this new world that’s positively teeming with life renews his motivation. He doesn’t want to see them get destroyed. He doesn’t want them to fall to the Hunger.

They’ve already recovered it so he wastes no time in setting up experiments.

Around the second month, Roman starts popping into the Starblaster to “make sure he isn’t nerding too hard” (his words, not Logan’s). At first, it’s only for a few minutes. Roman asks a few questions about what he’s doing, Logan responds with questions about what he and Virge have been up to, and then Roman goes back to Elfington.

As time passes, Roman grows more and more keen to help. It gets to the point where Roman and Logan do their experiments together. Kalumnia records for them, keeping track of what they’ve found (the Light of Creation emits waves of some form of energy) and what they need to know (what the fuck is that energy). Missy mostly makes sure that the pair eat and drink when necessary, occasionally throwing them over her shoulder and dragging them to bed.

Even Captain Sanders checks in on their progress (and with the two of them working together, it’s truly remarkable)!

The only one who keeps his distance is Virgil.

Logan finds out the reason for this on their tenth month.

It’s a typical afternoon. Logan had visited Elfington for last-minute supplies, and he had been carrying armfuls of metal parts and spell components when he heard low voices around the corner, where his newly-appointed lab was.

He pauses. He quickly figures that one must be Roman (he had told him to go ahead, but he must have wanted to wait) and therefore the other is Virgil. He considers making his presence known, but it sounds like they’re arguing. And the twins never do that.

He doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, honestly.

“I know why you’re doing this,” Virgil hisses. “You want to stay here.”

“I do not! And even if I did, what’s wrong with that? We haven’t had a home since we were fucking twelve, why can’t you just settle down?”

“This isn’t about that and you know it.” When Virgil continues to speak, his voice loses the anger and instead takes on a much softer tone. “Roman, we have the Light. There’s nothing else we can do for them.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do! In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve been doing this thing for over a decade. We either get the Light and some people die, or we don’t and everything gets consumed by the Hunger. We’ve tried fighting it, we’ve died, and honestly, I don’t give a shit about the planes anymore!”

“How can you say that?” Roman murmurs. Logan’s equally surprised by that revelation.

“Look,” Virgil sighs. “We’ve been to like, four planets with life on it. And each time, we decide it’s a grand idea to make friends! Why not build our bonds? But at the end of the year, it’s the same thing. We fly away and we watch those people get torn apart into nothing. They’re dust. We’ve only had each other for so long, and you and the other five people on this ship are the only people I can count on. Everyone else? They’re dust, Roman. If we see them as anything else, we only get our hearts broken. And I can’t take that. Not for however long we’re stuck on this ship, going through the motions.”

Roman’s silent for a long time. Eventually, though, he says, “You’re lying.”

“What?”

“You’re lying,” he repeats, more forcefully. “You can try and pretend like you don’t care, but I’ve seen you with those kids. I know you care about them as much as I do. And I know you’ll fight for them at the end of the year.”

“Because they’re us, Ro!” Virgil’s outburst shocks Logan. He knows he definitely shouldn’t be listening at this point, but he’s frozen in place. “I mean, seriously? Two elven siblings, living on the road? When I see them, all I see is me and you as preteens forcing ourselves to entertain sickos by streetfighting just so we can eat. All I see is you giving me your one jumper because you know I hate the cold even though you were freezing just as much. All I see is us fighting over who should have the last scrap of food, not because we wanted it, but because we wanted the other to eat. So, of course, I’m going to fight for them. But at the end of the day, if it comes to saving you or saving those children, there’s no choice.”

Logan hears Virgil stomp the opposite way and when he’s sure Roman’s alone, he steps into the corridor.

Roman’s back is to him. Logan takes another cautious step forward, then another, and as he gets closer, he can see how he’s shaking. Roman’s fists are clenched at his sides, head hanging low.

“Roman?”

Roman straightens his back and raises one hand to his face. Logan can’t see what he’s doing, but when the hand comes back wet and Roman turns around with red eyes and a watery smile, he can hazard a guess.

“Hey, Lo!” he greets, far too cheery. “Let’s get to work!”

He doesn’t have time to ask what’s wrong because Roman grabs his arm and pulls him into the lab. All day, he interrupts Logan when he goes to offer comfort, and his smile is too wide, too forced. Logan doesn’t understand why he feels sad too.

-

At the end of the year, Roman pulls all-nighters alongside Logan. He and Virgil have long since made up, but his brother still steers clear of the lab. Logan doesn’t blame him - he’s never heard the pair fight before, and he’s sure it’s something they want to avoid.

Roman’s project that he had Logan helping him with is almost complete. It radiates a golden hue and its form almost replicates the Light exactly. It’s far from perfect, but it might just work. At this point, that’s all they can really hope for.

When the Hunger comes, they’re ready. Roman and Logan order Thomas to bring the ship over a mostly empty country (some mountains bordering an ocean) and they fling the fake Light down, watching as it splashes in the water. Immediately, the black smog that was chasing them dives down.

The Starblaster uses this chance to dart away, hurtling through the skies at breakneck speeds and it's not long until they breach Elfington’s atmosphere. The Hunger chases them, having figured out what they’ve done, and it seems angrier, more determined.

Little darts of black break free of its form and head for the ship, determined to bring them down. Thomas banks right, then left, before dipping down low. The other IPRE members have long since learnt their lesson about seatbelts, but they do rub at their necks during this process.

Roman and Logan share a smile. Most of Elfington was saved. Not just some, most.

Maybe they can win.

-

A/N That was the first part of Infinitesimal! If you enjoyed it, feel free to ask questions/scream to me about it because this is possibly one of my favourite concepts and I will take any opportunity to talk about it.

I hope I was clear with the whole Planary System stuff. If not, there’s more of an explanation coming in the following parts as well as some romance and maybe a touch of necromancy! Who knows? ;)

[geek-patient-zero]

Part 2, Chapter 2

Or: Prospect Fights

Blood War: Masquerade of the Red Death Trilogy Volume 1

Brooklyn, NY—March 14, 1994

Last chapter we were introduced to our second main protagonist (and secret “former” ancient vampire) Alicia Varney, her manservant (and sometimes lover but only if she’s really desperate) Sanford Jackson, and her (ignorantly treated and no doubt illegally owned) pet black panther Sumohn. Miss Varney decided to start her day off by taking her pet for a walk in “Prospect Heights Park”, which Jackson described as a virtual No Man’s Land abandoned by the police and local government to gangs and psychos. 

Before we move on, let’s talk a bit about the place.

In real life, the park this chapter takes place in is called Prospect Park. No “Heights”. Looks like Weinberg got the name confused with Prospect Heights, a small but affluent neighborhood and one of five that border the park. The park’s main entrance, Grand Army Plaza, is part of Prospect Heights, so along with the name and location I can see how you can confuse the two.

There really was a point, during the 70′s, where the park was considered dangerous and crime-infested. I know. A place in New York City? In the 70′s? Awful? Nah, can’t be. Back then, 44% of New Yorkers warned others to avoid the park. One New York Times article I’ve found from 2010, about a then-retiring park administrator credited with helping restore the place, begins with this about 1970′s Prospect Park:

Drugs were sold at the carousel. Muggers used the cover provided by the park’s shrubs and foliage. One year, near the skating rink, a man was found shot to death, and another year, the acting supervisor of the zoo was arrested and charged with shooting animals.

In the 1970s, Prospect Park in Brooklyn looked more like a crime scene than the pastoral refuge imagined a century earlier by Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux.

As if to advertise the woeful state of the park, in 1976 Columbia, the figure driving atop the arch at Grand Army Plaza, fell over in her chariot, a victim of disrepair.

So don’t go thinking that Weinberg got all this stuff from nothing.

During the 80′s and early 90′s, thanks to efforts from both the city and non-profits like The Prospect Park Alliance, the park was cleaned up and became a nice safe place to take the kids. But this is the World of Darkness, a Harsher, Crueler Yadda Dadda Da, you get the point. Going with the usual theme of “Everything’s Awful, Always, and We’re All Going to Die (And There’s Werewolves N’ Shit)” what little restoration efforts were made to the park in this universe failed miserably. And hoooohoho man did they fail. Here’s how the chapter starts, with a more thorough description of the park now that we’ve got a viewpoint character there:

Huge white signs with blood-red lettering were posted on every gate leading into the park, declaring the area off-limits to law-abiding citizens. The posters, left untouched more as a grim joke than sage advice, were ignored by the crowds of people who constantly entered and left the forested area. Prospect Heights served as the major supply center of illicit drugs, assault weapons, and kept women in New York City. It was also the headquarters of more than a half-dozen major gangs and two terrorist groups.

Anything illegal could be bought for a price in the dense woods. That purchasing the goods required a certain amount of risk was a fact of life. It was all part of the New York scene. Those who couldn’t adapt, left. Or died.

A fifteen-foot-high steel fence surrounded the entire park. The last attempt of a previous administration to keep the cancerous growth of the park from spreading through Brooklyn and the connecting boroughs, it worked more as a barrier to keep the police out than the criminals in. At least once a month, a body was found impaled on the sharp spikes that topped the posts. Several years ago a dozen heads had decorated the pikes for days, a grim reminder of the gang warfare that waged incessantly within the gates. 

It’s like if instead of closing down and becoming an auto parts shop, your local Blockbuster turned into a snuff film distributor. Also, goddamn terrorists moved in.

No one dared to enter the park alone, or unarmed. Unless that person was Alicia Varney.

Walking in with a panther doesn’t mean you’re accompanied and armed? Good to know, good to know.

It’s currently early afternoon, and let’s see... She got up at sunrise, which in March would be between six and six-thirty. The events of the last chapter seemed to have taken about over an hour. She’d have to get from Manhattan to Brooklyn in World of Darkness New York City traffic. Assuming she was driven she probably didn’t beat rush hour. If she had really bad luck, she would’ve had to deal with squeegie-men; y’know, those guys who wash the windows of cars stuck in traffic without being asked and try to extort the driver for the “service”? And she’d have to take a route that avoided the Baseball Furies. Add all that up and... I guess? Frankly, early afternoon’s the best case scenario here.

Varney, with Sumohn by her side with a thin leather strip for a leash, enters the park near the giant carousel (which according to the PPA website is the Willink entrance, east side of the park, at Flatbush Avenue and Empire Boulevard). The carousel was “one of the last efforts in the futile attempt to restore Prospect Heights to its former glory”, making it sound like the whole thing was installed recently instead of being a part of the park since the early 1900′s.

Alright, alright, no more park talk. You’re here for vampires, not Brooklyn history, I get it.

The black panther growled softly with every step. A great deal different than an ordinary jungle cat, the monstrous beast possessed more than five senses. It detected hostility in the woods. And death.

After what we’ve been told about the park, no shit, cat.

I’ve seen some WOD vampire OC’s described as having ghoul pets, There’s this one video campaign on Youtube, Blood on the Thames, where the Nosferatu character has a pet ghouled fennec fox. But when you think about it, if ghouling works the same with animals as it does with people, then they’re not really pets. They’re mental slaves, their feelings of love and loyalty toward their owner artificial. They might look happy to see your OC, but in reality it’s having a little heart attack out of fear because the thing rubbing its belly is an unnatural dead thing that God hates and they can’t do anything but let it. And your OC wouldn’t even know.

But I’ve never seen that aspect explored before. In fanworks, Ghouling’s just a way for a vampire to have a pet with an extended lifespan. In official material, there’re other important benefits to ghouling animals. Feeding them a little vampire blood every once in a while makes them bigger, faster, and stronger, and since they’re compelled to be loyal to you, they make useful weapons. We’ll see that a few times in this trilogy.

Sumohn senses something dangerous in the park, and you won’t be surprised to learn that the she and her owner aren’t here just for exercise.

“I feel it too,” said Alicia softly, talking to the panther as if it possessed human intelligence. “They’re out there in the park somewhere. Watching and waiting for me. I first sensed their presence when I woke up this morning.

We saw you wake up this morning. You shimmied around in your sheets naked while thinking about how good it was to be alive. Then took a shower and masturbated. But maybe ancient Mesopotamians have a different way of reacting to threats on their life. How would I know?

Someone wants me dead. They’re hiding in the woods. I thought it best to confront them here, on their home ground, instead of chancing their disrupting my plans for the evening.”

She sensed this one threat in Brooklyn all the way from her Manhatten penthouse. Fucking Methuselahs...

Once they’re far enough into the woods for the setting to be dark and ominous even in the afternoon, Varney takes the collar and leash off Sumohn so it can hunt down her enemies.

Chuckling, Alicia tucked the leather strap into her belt. She had complete faith in her pet. It would find and eliminate those who meant her harm. It was just a matter of time.

While Sumohn’s hunting her enemies, Varney decides to take a stroll and enjoy nature. Big business Manhattan garbage had been cutting into her free time, and it’s been months “since she had experienced the feeling of freedom walking in the woods gave her.” She plans on enjoying it as fully and luxuriously as she does everything else, all the while “mentally” keeping an eye out for threats.

Alicia had no desire to be surprised by unexpected visitors. Jackson had been correct when he said that Prospect Heights was no place for a young, unarmed woman. But Alicia was a great deal older than her bodyguard imagined. And she was not nearly as unprotected as Jackson thought.

She hears Sumohn’s “scream of rage” break the silence, meaning her pet had just made a kill. Unfortunately, despite Varney making it sound like the panther would wipe out her enemies on its own, Sumohn worked too slowly. Varney abruptly realizes that she was surrounded by five other people. She can’t see them yet, but she can sense them with her psychic radar power that I’m assuming is an Auspex power. Two of them are heading toward her, so she summons Sumohn back to her. This being a vampire story, she does this with a brief theater kid monologue.

“I refuse to let anyone interrupt my plans,” muttered Alicia angrily. “Death is not an acceptable option at this stage of the game. Sumohn, attend me. There is killing work to be done here.”

The two hostiles reach her.

“Hey, lady?” The speaker was a short, thin man around thirty, dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans. He wore no shirt, despite the cool March weather. A tattoo of a naked woman with an arrow passing through her breasts adorned his hairless chest. Stuck in the waist of his pants was a .45 automatic. “You lost or something?”

“Yeah, said his companion, tall and wide, with a shaven head, pencil-thin eyebrows, and a perpetual leer. He also wore jeans and no shirt. A 12-gauge shotgun, carried loosely in one hand, was his weapon. “Or maybe you’re looking for some action.”

They weren’t called “swarthy,” so these must be white gangbangers.

Varney realizes the assassins plan to rape her before killing her, because this is dark fantasy and rape’s gonna get brought up eventually. There’s some prose about sex and death being linked throughout history, especially hers, then she begins to deal with these guys. Now, you figure she’ll start with one of her vampire powers. Maybe a Presence power, making the gang awed and infatuated with her and drawing them into killing distance. Or maybe she’ll skip messing with their heads and use Celerity to boost her speed and reflexes, swiftly killing them before they can reach for their guns. Or

“Actually,” declared Alicia, taking a tentative step forward, “I was looking for some big, handsome men to satisfy the hunger inside me. I need to be fucked. Repeatedly. Do you two think you can help me?”

...Or that?

“Huh?” said the short man, her reply taking him completely by surprise. His face turned beet red. It was an old trick, but one that still worked. The jerks expected her to cower in fear, beg for mercy–not talk about sex. They weren’t sure how to respond.

Gun her down immediately because this is clearly a trap.

Look, despite how I might come across, I don’t get bothered every time a character does something irrational or wrong in a story. But considering this gang shares their territory with six or seven other gangs and two terrorist groups, and one bad move could get their heads mounted on the park perimeter, there’s no way they should be stupid enough to fall for this. But they do, because the writer wanted to contrive a scene where Alicia Varney “weaponizes her sexuality” I guess.

Varney’s “vulgar declaration” also lures out the three other men, who “didn’t want to miss out on any of the action.” Now all of her enemies are in view, but considering she could sense their presence accurately enough to know exactly how many of them there are, she really didn’t have to.

“You heard me,” said Alicia, raising her voice so that everyone could hear her. “I’m burning up. I want it so bad my body feels like it’s on fire.” She ran her hands up and down her hips, pressing the material of her pants tight against her skin. She moaned passionately. “If I don’t get it quick, I’ll go crazy.”

“Hot damn,” said the big man excitedly, his hands trembling as he fumbled with the buttons of his pants. “The bitch wants to get screwed, and I’m going to nail her right now. The rest of you jokers wait in line, ‘cause I’m first.”

God damn, this is so unnecessary.

The shorter guy struggles with his belt in an attempt to beat his friend to the sex, but thankfully this whole bit comes to an end when Sumohn pounces on him and pulps his head with her jaws. Trusting the panther to take care of the other guy as well, Varney turns to the three other gang members. They try to aim their guns at her, but instead start jerking around “in a ghastly parody of dancing”, unable to shoot her as she approaches.

“What the hell is wrong?” screamed the nearest of the trio, a young black man still in his teens. “I can’t do nothing.”

“A simple matter of paralyzing the part of the brain controlling motor skills,” said Alicia with a smile.

There’re some Thaumatergy powers that could do this, but Varney will turn out to have nothing to do with the Tremere, so it’s unlikely this is any of those. There’s also Paralyzing Glance, an advanced Presence power that can “send someone into a seizure of terror.” Or maybe I’m overthinking it and she’s just generically psychic.

Varney kills the teenager first by tearing out his throat, her technique described more thoroughly than when Makish ripped out a guy’s throat. The second guy, she uses the old “smash his nose cartilage into his brain” move, the second time someone’s been killed that way in this story, and not the last time someone will be in this trilogy. Apparently it’s impossible to do. Even if cartilage was strong enough to penetrate bone, using enough force to do so would likely smash the victim’s skull in anyway. But it sounds cool and Weinberg was probably fond of it. He also seemed to think it would result in a quick death because he described Varney as “merciless but not cruel” before she does it. Anyway, the third guy faints, so Varney snaps his neck while he’s unconscious.

“Very neat, Miss Varney,” said a voice from behind her. “But not really very smart. You let yourself get distracted by the diversions. I’m the real threat.”

Alicia turned, knowing she was too late.

If the assassin who snuck up on you is this chatty and you still don’t turn around by the time he’s finished, you should feel embarrassed.

Sumohn’s too busy tearing apart the guy who was taking his pants off earlier to notice her owner’s in trouble, “a wonderful ally but was too easily tempted” as the narration puts it. This sixth guy, her “true enemy” who somehow evaded her telepathic people sensor, is a well dressed young man already squeezing the trigger on his submachine gun. But instead of Varney dying and ending her role in the story weirdly early, the assassin drops with the handle of a bowie knife sticking out of his back.

“I paralyzed his fingers so he wouldn’t jerk the trigger by accident,” said a blonde man in a white suit and white shirt, walking over to the corpse. Bending down, he jerked the knife out of the body and wiped the blood on the dead man’s clothes.

Hey, Reuben.

He tells Varney that the dead guy was named Leo Taggert, who was headquartered in Coney Island and specialized in “celebrity kills”. The other jerks were local talent he hired. He was also a ghoul who could hide his thoughts, which is why Varney didn’t sense him. Varney asks who Reuban is, thinking he looks familiar yet positive she’d never met him, but Reuben only says he’s “a friend.”

He turned and started walking down the road. “Better call off your pet,” he said in parting. “That man’s quite dead.”

Distracted for an instant, Alicia glanced at Sumohn. When her gaze returned to where the stranger had been, he was gone.

Quickly she mentally scanned the area. Discounting a drug dealer and his teenage customers, there was no one within a hundred yards of her location. It was quite mysterious. Alicia hated mysteries.

Varney asks Sumohn if she saw Reuban, but because she’s a big dumb animal all Sumohn’s thinking about is “blood and death.” And probably mating, because Varney doesn’t seem like the type who spays her pets. She didn’t notice the stranger either during or after the attack, like he appeared and disappeared out of thin air.

“And this SOB,” said Alicia, kicking the dead body of Leo Taggert in frustration, “called me by my name. He was no ordinary assassin hired by my business rivals. He was a ghoul. Which ties him in with the Kindred. And the joker knew enough about me to hide his thoughts. Damn.”

At least her first fight went better than McCann’s. The only thing he has over her in this department is that he didn’t try to distract his would-be assassin with the idea of unexpected sex.

Varney assumes that Jackson’s loyal, so she figures whoever wants her dead has either been watching her closely, or they’re linked to her “friends” at The Devil’s Playground.

First there had been the distressing tiding about Baba Yaga. Now came this assassination attempt, coupled with the appearance of the oddly familiar young man. Alicia wondered grimly what else could go wrong.

It was a question best not asked.

That’s the end of the chapter. Alicia Varney’s “weaponized sexuality” scene in this chapter is the lowest/most awkward this trilogy gets. The good news is, no matter what other dumb things happens, it’s all uphill from here.

[qandnoablog]

Life on Sakaar (Marvel Imagine)

Title: Life on Sakaar: Discovered Short Story

Pairing: Loki x Avenger!Reader

Warnings: Based on the movie - Avengers: Age of Ultron Thor: Ragnarok

Short story based on my other fan fiction: Discovered, so it’s best to read that one before starting on this! Click here if you want to go to Discovered (Marvel Imagine) Part 1

Part: 3/3 Part 1, 2, 3

Key: Y/N - Your Name

Word Count: 1,805

Summary: [Y/N] is still stranded on the alien planet Sakaar, finally adjusted to this odd way of life, when Loki barges into the picture! Now dealing with the once-enemy of Earth, how will her life on Sakaar change?

Note From Author: Finally part 3 is out! I’m so sorry that this took so much longer than I expected, but midterms really took a toll on me, so I had to postpone any further posts. That also means that I wasn’t able to catch up on any Marvel movies and will probably get to them during the summer. Hopefully I’ll be able to finish the Discovered series in the near future, but (again) no promises!

Part 3

He loved it when she got jumpy.

Loki had discovered it only a short while ago but whenever he crept up on her and whispered in her ear, her flustered reaction was so amusing. She was clearly not used to intimate interactions, which greatly pleased him for some strange reason, and the way her ears would turn a slight shade of pink made him want to tease her even more.

It had only been a little over a week when he came upon this entertaining quirk of [Y/N]’s but he had made that his latest greeting to her every chance he got. He thought he would tire of it eventually, but the feeling never seemed to lessen in the slightest. What made it even more interesting was that she never seemed to get used to it! Her reaction was always as fresh as the first. He would never admit it, but he hoped she would never change in that aspect.

After another few days, everything began to change. It all started when his brother arrived, breaking the sense of normality that he had finally established with her.

“He’s very popular back on Earth.”

Those were the words she told him. It was that answer and the shine in her eyes when she saw him arrive… That was an unsettling combination. He didn’t like it. Her refusal to answer his questions only irritated him more. Finally giving in to his impatience, he did something that he had avoided doing during his entire time on Sakaar. Using his mind tricks.

Her method of breaking from his control was both brutal and surprising. He could sense another power at work, helping her snap out of his hold, but it was too brief for him to identify it. That’s when he realized the pure rage seeping from her eyes. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt extremely guilty. That wasn’t normal for him. He never felt guilty using his magic on anyone, so why was [Y/N] any different?

She vanished before he could mend their broken relationship. He regretted his actions more and more the further she was. The distance between them that had gradually begun to close was ripped open by his careless actions. Loki was used to making enemies left and right, but for some reason he didn’t want her to be one.

For several hours, he tried to brush the discomfort aside, but it was impossible. Every glimpse of her, every eye contact she avoided… It flared the unease deep in his heart like a wildfire. He hated the feeling, but he didn’t know how to make it go away.

When she nearly fell off her chair after she saw Thor’s latest haircut, he was torn between admiring her reaction and feeling displeased at the questionable relation between her and his brother. Then, he sensed that power again. He briefly searched for the source when he realized… It was coming from her direction. When he glanced over, he noticed that [Y/N] was breaking out in sweat. He looked over at her, then his brother fighting in the arena below, and finally connected the dots. That’s when he realized... There were still many secrets about [Y/N] he still had not uncovered. The thought of that made him feel both excited and extremely uneasy. Did… Did Thor know more about her than he did?

The moment her eyes locked with his, he quelled the chaotic emotions raging within him and merely smiled and turned back to the fight. He could see the shaken expression on her pale face and didn’t continue to stare, knowing that it would only cause her more discomfort. Still, he didn’t know why he cared.

He sensed that power yet again as the battle reached its climax. Loki wasn’t going to turn towards her again, but then… Then he smelled the faint scent of blood. Immediately, as if it was a conditioned reaction, he turned to [Y/N].

She quickly hid her hands away, but the reddish hue was inescapable from his discerning eyes. When she clasped them together, ignoring her own wounds for his brother, he wanted to immediately storm towards her and drag her from the room. Such impulses were unlike him and he immediately capped them down. When she went weak with relief, knowing that Thor was alive, he could barely contain the anger boiling deep within him.

He didn’t know why he was feeling so irrational whenever it came to [Y/N].

Loki had to see her. He had to make sure she was alright. The thought of her injury nagged at him and prevented him from getting any sleep. His mind was in utter turmoil and he couldn’t get her out of his mind. Finally giving in, he made his way towards her room. Right when he was in front of her room, he realized that this was the first time he had ever been there.

Not allowing himself to think too deeply on the matter, he knocked on the door.

~

While immobilized on the cold, metallic floor, after his little disagreement with Thor, Loki couldn’t stop thinking about [Y/N].

Did she safely escape? Was she going to fight in a losing battle to try and prevent Ragnarok alongside Thor? Would his foolish, muscle-headed brother be able to keep her safe from harm? And why was he so worried about her when he, too, was in danger? The Grandmaster certainly wouldn’t be in a forgiving mood after all that had happened.

He could guess what he might be feeling towards the human, since he had taunted Thor about it several times after his banishment to Earth, but he didn’t want to accept it. He wanted to desperately refuse the mere possibility of it because… Because if he accepted it, he’d have to also accept the pain that accompanied it.

The pain of the questionable relationship between her and his brother. The pain of knowing that she no longer trusted him because of his own foolish and irreversible actions against her not that long ago. And… And the most painful of all. The pain of the future.

A human’s lifespan was so small compared to an Asgardian that it would pass in the blink of an eye to a being like himself. The thought of spending such an insignificant amount of time with [Y/N] and watching her wither away terrified him to the bone.

He didn’t dare accept the inkling he had of his feelings towards [Y/N], but he couldn’t completely ignore her. Especially when he knew she was walking into the jaws of death by following Thor to Asgard. He couldn’t bare to acknowledge her in his heart but he couldn’t bare to abandon her even more.

Suddenly, he was freed from the painful pulses of electricity that the taser had trapped him in.

“Hey man,” a creature of rocks called out in a docile voice that clashed with his hard exterior, “We’re about to jump on that ginormous spaceship. You want to come?”

It seemed fortune was still by his side. Even if he could not take [Y/N] into his heart, he wouldn’t let her fight a losing battle. Not without him.

~

To get his mind off his anxiety towards her safety, he decided to wander the Earth. Who would have thought that he would immediately find her? It was like fate.

When he whispered in her ear, the same way he had revelled in back on Sakaar, her reaction was still the same as he remembered. It filled him with smiles, but then she turned and immediately swung a fist at his face. Though surprised, he didn’t dodge since he wasn’t actually in front of her.

It seemed she was still angry with him.

After that, she briefly filled him in on all he missed. Loki’s desperation to get to Asgard had considerably lightened, knowing she was safe, but he was a bit displeased with Thor’s recklessness. His brother was already prepared to drag her into a dangerous war she had no part in but to think he would be careless and allow her to be dragged away into a mere wormhole.

Although Loki was thankful that she was safe and far away from the battle, he was still irked by the possibility of her being lost in another planet he might not be able to reach. Losing her… He hated the mere thought of it.

There was something else that also made him a bit unhappy. Their time together was already limited, but she had spent a few of those years back on Earth. Time barely touched him as it was, compared to a mere human, but she had spent her already paltry amount without him by her side. He had missed too much already and yet… He still couldn’t spend more with her. Their talk, sadly enough, was coming to an end.

His group was already quickly approaching Asgard, but he wished they could have spoken for just a moment longer. Perhaps they should have never left Sakaar, where time had been more merciful. And, regrettably, he didn’t have the power to stop time. Just as he was about to leave, she called out his name.

His heart leapt for joy, but he didn’t let it show. He just turned to her and patiently waited for her to continue. She seemed to be struggling with her words, unsure of how to continue, but he didn’t mind. Honestly, he could just look at her all day in complete and utter silence. There was no need for them to talk. Just enjoying the moments they were together was blissful, since the passage of time was a constant pressure weighing heavily in his heart. She didn’t even need to finish, her presence was enough, but her next words made him glad that she did.

“Just… Don’t die.”

[Y/N]... He almost uttered her name but forced himself to swallow it down.

She was worried about him. Even though she was so angry with him, enough to hit him the moment she saw him, she still cared enough to worry about his safety. What more could he ask for while preparing to walk into a battle to the death?

“Well, not before I can kill you, anyways.”

Those words didn’t faze him in the slightest. In fact, they only made him happier, her nervous grin showing her true intentions. She was trying to hide how worried she was for him… How adorable!

He smiled that same smile he was used to showing, but the joy he felt was too much for him to hide. Loki knew she caught a glimpse of it on his face, but before she could identify it, he quickly dispersed his copy, vanishing from the Earth.

Tags: @themeanestlittlewitch @stressedandbandobessed7771 @moistpotatobear @fxckingfat