#Inter EIS Chapter 3

[binart]

SRPA Chapter 3

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(Content warning for hallucinations, dissociation & PTSD episodes!)  

—

In late evening of the next day, Keith messaged Lance.

All members of their team had retreated back to their rooms (though Hedrox and En suspiciously left together), and Lance had just finished a call with his mom. She apologized like she did in all of them, for crying. But she clearly missed him just as much as he missed her.

As Lance grabbed some tissues from the shelf above his bed to blow his nose with, his phone next to his pillow dinged; the specific beep to indicate one of the old Voltron crew was messaging him. He dove for it.

A text from Keith, “Samurai 😫✨💦” in his phone, read: “Meeting with the team tomorrow. 0700. Deploying in the PM. See you then.”

One thing Lance found really endearing about Keith was his old person way of texting. If someone mixed Keith's texts in with his dad's, they'd be practically indistinguishable aside from the subject of the texts. He scrolled up to their last conversation.

“Good training. En wanted extra pointers. Staying behind for a bit.”

                                “K, I'll save u some of those spicy green chips u like 👍”

“Good luck........... Chip fiend Hedrox won't be happy. L. O. L.”

                                 “🤣 Thanks for the heads up man! See you soon.”

“Over and Out.”

                                  “🫡”

“L. O. L !”

“🫡”

He set his phone down and buried his face into the softness of his mattress. Then he threw his pillow across the room for good measure. He went about his nightly routine a little lighter despite the homesickness pulling at his chest, and wondered what they'd be doing tomorrow. They still hadn't gotten a replacement for Torat, and Hedrox confirmed there was still possibly a weeks-long wait before they could move on any intel from the bugged base. Maybe they'd be going on a super spy infiltration somewhere? Though there were plenty of other things the Blade of Marmora was doing these days too. They were trying to become a more public-facing organization, after all.

Slipping into a hazy state of half-consciousness before long, Lance only vaguely registered a far away blue flash against his closed lids, and an oddly familiar fuzzy jostling of his arms before falling asleep.

—

0700 on the dot. He arrived at the team meeting room, same one as where they gathered the last time, only now without Torat leaning up against the wall. As Lance walked in to see the others already there and waiting, he wondered what the big guy was doing now. He'd been transferred to a different team, but that was about all he knew.

“Morning, Lieutenant.” Kestin, though usually pretty quiet, was the first to notice him, and waved. Keith looked up from the hologram table he was studying with En and Hedrox, and smiled.

“Mornin'.” Lance was still a little tired despite mostly adjusting to the longer day cycle, but everyone else seemed full of energy. En sharply saluted him, then turned back to face Keith.

“Hey Lance, sleep well?” Lance nodded in between a tired yawn. “Pff, you sure?”

“I got my nine hours, I just had a super weird dream..” He'd dreamt of one of those pretty furry moths back on Earth, except huge, that kept trying to lick his face and sit on him. It was mildly terrifying. “Anyway, I'm good. What's going on with this mission?”

“Big supply delivery to a colony. I'll show you the details.” From all around, everyone approached the table and regarded the screen sat within it. Just as before, a series of images with accompanying text lit up in the 3-d display. Lance eyed a familiar looking planet.

“Elysium-2?” Keith nodded.

“You've seen the news, then. Good. The refugees from the original settlement landed about half a year ago, and we're gonna hand out some medical and food supplies that are running lower than initially projected.”

“And actually—the Blade wasn't the only one to volunteer to offer supplies, but the Inter-galactic Coalition thought it might be good PR for us,” Hedrox supplied as he raised a lanky finger. “Looootta people are still afraid to trust us since, y'know. Most of us are half-Galra and all..”

There was a brief silence, then En leaned forward and regarded his teammate with lowered brows. “A prejudice we shall eradicate, in time.” Hedrox tilted his head back and forth in a strange motion before letting out a watery chuckle.

“That we will! Anyway, what are our roles, Commander?”

“..We'll be working distribution and security. There's a couple of teams on this for the different areas of the settlement given how big it is, and we'll be stationed here.” He pointed to a glowing yellow point on the planet-sphere in front of them. It swiftly zoomed in to show a 3-d rendering of the area. Two additional yellow spots appeared. “We'll drop down and hand out supplies here, and monitor security over here.” One of the dots was placed within a very modern looking building, similar in design to the ones quickly built back when New Altea was being settled.

“There's been reports of potential suspicious movement in the system, so in case anything happens, we want our best on sight.” Keith looked at Lance. “You in?” Immediately Lance's face grew hot. He certainly didn't feel like he deserved to be called their best, but he cleared his throat and gave a assured 'mhm!' regardless. “Good, that's everyone on board, then. We'll go over the specifics of the layout and the expected timeline for everything going down. After that we'll grab our gear and Kestin will take us in.”

Pre-mission anxiety skimmed and bubbled in the pit of his stomach once again, but this time Lance found it a little easier to ignore.

—

Touchdown was at 1300. Kestin joined up in the atmosphere with two additional fighter pilot personnel manning the supply ships to make up B squad; Keith's team, Kolivan's team, and another Blade commander called Thiga's team. Landing went without incident from teams A to D who kept in close contact despite the miles of distance between them. Lance gripped his sniper rifle's strap across his torso tightly when the ship lurched to a stop and snuck a subtle glance at his friend beside him.

For this mission, he'd be separated from Keith. Lance was, embarrassingly, more anxious about that than anything else. It was important for higher profile blade members like Kolivan and Keith (as well as Krolia in D team) to be the face of the operation, and so they would be handing out supplies to the residents. There was potential danger there if the reports of suspicious movement were to be believed, and so Lance was pretty sure that's why Keith delegated Lance to overseeing the security division of their group. He and Hedrox would rendezvous with the blades under Thiga's command in the building across the way from the supply ships, then from there observe to make sure everything went smoothly. He didn't like the idea of Keith openly risking himself while stashing Lance away, but was surprisingly too embarrassed to say anything. His mask was activated, and as the doors to the shuttle hissed open, Lance headed towards the exit.

“Hey Lance.” He turned around to face an also masked Keith. “Watch my back out there, alright?” Lance thought about his only strength—his aim, and how he'd probably be useless if he were at Keith's side like he wanted to be.

“..You bet. Careful out there, Keith.” He nodded, and Lance picked up his pace to meet up with Hedrox.

His nest this time was a lot different from the last; A large office-like space within the building had been cleared out to make way for several massive server-looking machines that were clearly Marmorite-y in design. He had no idea what they were for. Hedrox and Lance entered to find the security team already there and settled in. When they noticed their approach, all but one of the members of Commander Thiga's team whipped up and gave sharp salutes. “Lieutenant!” There were six of them in total, all of various size and race behind their masks, and stood stone rigid in front of him as he shifted uncomfortably. Normally Lance would have loved to be treated with such clear importance, but he was distracted by the unease of not being able to see if Keith was okay.

“Uh, at ease, soldiers.” He wanted to get himself set up at the windowed opening straight away, but realized he should probably do the leader stuff he was meant to do. “Status?”

“Ready and at your command, Lieutenant!” The shortest blade rumbled in the deepest voice Lance had ever heard. “And might I add what an honor it is to work alongside a Paladin of Voltron..!” Lance jerked, then immediately caught himself and stiffly walked over to the windowed opening. He turned away.

“Cool, cool, uh, I'll set my stuff up here, and you guys do... your thing. Let me know if anything happens.”

The stony line of blades once again saluted, and quickly set about their work. Hedrox pulled out some supplies from their blade-issued backpack, and sidled over to Lance.

“You good, Lieutenant..?” He whispered through their personal comms as he set up several tablet devices next to Lance. With his rifle now pointed towards the platform in front of the supply ships where Keith was standing, Lance breathed out a small chunk of worry. His right ring finger tapped the comms button on his palm.

“Why'd Keith make me leader? I dunno how to lead! I'm just here to shoot bad guys if they show up.” Hedrox snorted.

“Oh, I dunno, Lieutenant. Maybe because the Commander always goes on about how much everyone respects you, and how insanely skilled you are, and how much he trusts you?” Lance whipped his head up to look at them so quickly his neck clicked.

“H-He said all that..?!”

“Uh-huh. It's also favouritism for sure, but you still absolutely deserve to be here if that's what you're worried about.”

“Distribution commencing, Lieutenant,” a blade informed from off to the side. Lance studied Keith in his scope next to Kolivan and some other masked blade that was probably that Thiga guy, and swallowed to help with his suddenly very dry throat. En was there, too, loading the heavier of the alien supply crates onto hovering carts.

“U-Understood, thanks.” He pressed the button on his thumb once again. “I didn't know Keith said all that stuff!” Hedrox once again tilted their head strangely as they typed away.

“Really? I thought with how obvious the both of you are about your feelings for each other, you already knew..” Lance nearly fumbled his rifle then and there. His pulse picked up as his face grew sweaty.

“F-Fee—Um! What?!" Quiznack, why were they talking about this?! And how did he know?!

“Lieutenant... Come on. Or, actually... Would it be helpful if I told you how much I love the intricacies of human social interactions? And humans in general. You guys are so cool and interesting, so uh. I tend to notice that sort of stuff.” From beneath his hood, Hedrox's little sunflower bots fluttered to life around him. “But both of you are also super obvious.”

Lance was at a loss for words. Under his mask he knew he was red as a beet as he watched Keith unmask and start handing out supply kits to the forming lines of residents. His ponytail had gotten a bit loose and strands once again framed his handsome face. He was smiling.

“Keith's—I mean. He's—into guys?” His hands were sweaty now too, with his arms beginning to shake from holding them so tightly still. He hoped nothing was going to happen, because his aim was definitely shot!

“Maybe not all of them, but you? Yeah, Lieutenant, yeah. Very. It's really sweet how much he likes talking about the stuff you guys used to do together! Hmm.. I just assumed you two were already a thing, though, so maybe it's not really my place to talk about this. My bad.”

“No, uh, I was—Like I didn't know if Keith was into—“ Lance lifted his right hand away from his rifle to gesture at himself and distantly wondered how crazy he looked to the other blades who couldn't hear their conversation. He retreated back to his position. “So I didn't wanna. Assume? A-Anyway!” Frantically Lance desperately searched his mind for something else to talk about, because this was quickly becoming too much to deal with. “Human behaviours? That's your thing? How'd that come about?” Hedrox chuckled.

“Subject change, understood. Yes! Humans are the coolest—I'm gonna move to Earth someday, so I started studying your speaking and social patterns so it's easier to fit in. And because it's fun.”

From through his scope, Keith raised a hand to his ear, nodded, then continued to pass out supply canisters. “Huh.. Why us? I'm pretty sure there are a bunch of cooler alien species out there than plain old humans.”

“Now that's where you're wrong, Lieutenant! Humans are fascinating. All so similar, yet none exactly the same.” They pressed their back up against the plain, modern wall next to Lance. “..On my planet, conformity was umm.. kind of a given. Our ancestors were actually a hivemind, so.. we stay close to our roots and expectations.” A hivemind? Lance could recall only a single occasion where team Voltron interacted with one of them, and it was super weird.

“Data crunching comes really easily to most of us,” Hedrox continued. “And I actually found out about Earth when I was snooping around the Blade database of our highest ranking members and found—um, the Commander's mom. Super classified, by the way, don't tell anyone I was doing that.” Lance laughed.

“Reminds me of Pidge, but yeah, my lips are sealed dude, don't worry.”

“Coolies, thanks. Anyway when I learned about Earth I quickly discovered all of the amazing things you guys have like movies, and music, and so many different cultures, and—and individuality in general! Also, related, I'm insanely ugly by Yorith standards. Look.” Lance obeyed and turned his head to watch as Hedrox's mask shifted away from his face,

and one of the most shockingly attractive faces Lance had ever seen appeared. Blue tinged skin, rosegold eyes with soft lashes, near-glowing long golden locks curling around a sharp but also somehow soft jawline, intricate neon swirling designs tracing around the outer portions of his face and onto his horn... Maybe not as much of Lance's type as Keith was, but man oh man he was hot hot.

“........Dude. You're hot, what?”

“I know, right?!” Quickly, they reactivated their mask when they saw the other blades turn to examine them. “One day me and En are gonna settle down on Earth and I'm gonna be a crazy popular stone—er, rockstar, that is. That's my dream.” Some of his tiny floating bots scooted out of the window as he curled his legs in close, and Lance wondered what his and En's relationship was. “But only once the empire is totally gone.”

From the opening his rifle was pointed out, excited chatter from the beings below drifted upwards and into his ears. There was a sizable crowd now, and Lance listened to Hedrox as he kept his eyes peeled for threats. “Yeah, I get it. Too risky otherwise. My family's in New Altea just in case they keep attacking..”

Hedrox sighed. “Yup.. The empire invaded my home planet half a millennia ago and everything sucked, of course. But when I was growing up it was at least always.. quiet. Then one day they sent in some giant planet cracker and destroyed it. For some rare material near the core used to make ship parts.” Lance went cold, and thought of his old house, half buried beneath rubble and waves.

“Geez.. Sorry to hear that.”

“It's okay.. I've had a while to get over it. That's also where I met En, actually! He was in charge of the mining operation before he double-crossed the empire for killing most of his crew.”

“En.. worked for the empire?” Sharp, immediate fear pierced Lance as he watched the very same alien pass close by keith with a large hover cart. He obscured his vision of Keith for a moment before continuing on to the residents below. “C-Can we trust him?!” His breath sped up, and his scope immediately honed in on En's masked head.

“Yeah, don't worry, Lieutenant, he's trustworthy. His non-Galran half makes it so that, when he bonds with someone, it's a lifetime thing. He's got a rough exterior, sure, but only to keep his extra soft inside parts safe!” Lance still felt queasy watching them move around so closely to Keith. “And if you need more convincing,” Hedrox began, and pulled off one of his gloves. He lifted up his palm, and it glowed a brilliant color Lance couldn't even put a name to. “On top of all my amazing gifts and genius, I can read souls.” His fingers wiggled. “Hivemind remnants, and all that. He's good people, I checked very thoroughly, since originally I was gonna, uh. Kill him.”

Man, that was a lot to take in. “...Okay, I guess—Yeah, I trust you, at least. I'm just worried about—I dunno, something happening to Keith.”

“I get you, Lieutenant, all of us are pretty much the same. The Commander's the whole reason we were even able to do anything with our lives, after all. We basically owe him everything.”

Before Lance could respond, he noticed a subtle shift of Keith's head, before his eyes widened. A blade made a noise of concern from beside him, Keith shouted something, then En dashed towards Keith and grabbed him. Lance moved to immediately take him out, and then—a massive explosion.

The force of it reached Lance and the rest of the security team as the building gave a violent shudder, though he couldn't see an impact crater. Dust and smoke filled their view, and Lance quickly pressed his comms. “Keith?! You okay?!” Rapidly he pulled his scope around to try and see past the debris. Hedrox sent out all of his drones, then began furiously typing away at his console. For a moment there was no response. Then,

“Ugh.. I'm alright.” Keith's strained voice filtered into his ears, and he coughed. “En's hurt. D squad was just attacked too. Can you see anything from up there?” Lance quickly scanned the horizon again, still just as obscured. Screams and wails came from down below.

“Just getting smoke and dust up here..!”

“Must be a smokescreen. Kestin, what's your status?”

Kestin spoke in a mildly panicked tone into their comms. “The ship's controls are jammed. Something external. If we can get it online I can activate thrusters to help with visuals. Hedrox?”

They were already out the door. “I'm grabbing En, then I'll come help.” Lance turned back and squinted through the obscurity. In the corner of his eye, a hundred or so meters away from Keith, something glowed. Purple. He swivelled and pointed his rifle, zoomed in, recognized the glowing insignia, then fired.

“Your 3 o'clock, incoming sentry drones, guys!”

A small hoard of bright, glowing purple poured into view. They weren't running, no—there were barely visible bursts from jet-boosters coming from the swarm's backs. Some of the other security blades began firing away on their own rifles alongside Lance. But there were what looked to be hundreds. The telltale sound of galran rifle firing began at the same time as another explosion roared off to his right. The foundations shook. Lance couldn't breathe.

Focus. Focus! Find Keith. Keep him safe.

The smokescreen thinned slightly for a moment and Lance spotted Keith next to Kolivan, carrying a limp En with his arm under their shoulders. Another set of glowing insignia's erupted from his right.

“9 o'clock too. Couple hundred drones on both sides!”

“Keep us covered until Hedrox can get us into the ship.” He watched as Keith immediately vanished from his view, followed by Kolivan and then En. From his wrist, he watched as the battery on their cloaking began to drain.

Didn't need to tell him twice. “Roger.” He switched his rifle to rapid-cooldown mode so he could fire off more shots, held his breath, then began to take them out.

Easy. No complexity to their movements. Lining themselves up to be mowed down. Hedrox's cloaking went up, too. More screaming from down below. Couldn't worry about civilians. Keep Keith safe. Exhale, inhale, position, fire, position, fire, position, fire, position, fire. Exhale. Distantly,

“Alrighty, in we go!” The doors to the shuttle opened, but some sentries from his left had nearly made it there already. Nope, no no no! Not today. Immediately he took them out.

“You six, focus on the eastern sentries!” Lance barked a command to the other blades with him. They were all obnoxiously slow, and he couldn't rely on them to help with the sentries already too close to Keith. He had to do it himself. The sky brightened, and so did the ground, and Lance, once again, took aim.

It was impossible to say how long it was until Hedrox and Kestin brought the ships back online and activated their thrusters. He was lost to the repetition of taking aim, firing, taking aim, firing. His vision swam, his wrist ached, his rifle was his old bayard again, but he was going be damn sure no one could hurt his friend.

And then, wind. The flash of light and familiar sound of the ships bursting to life; a booming twister whipped up the smokescreen that was making his job harder until it was nearly cleared away. Civilian bodies on the ground came into clear view. Don't look.

To his right, through the light filling his mask, too many sentries were still closing in. Still a threat. Keith. Inhale, position, fire, position, fire, position, fire, position, fire.. No response?

His rifle was overheated. The other blades were still too slow. Useless. He arose from his weapon, and would apologize for bruising egos later on after Keith was safe. The other sniper closest to him was the big one who didn't salute, though was easy enough to pry off and throw out of the space he needed to work. Back looking through a scope, inhale, position, fire, position, fire, position, fire. The sentries fell like flies. He could do this, he could be helpful.

“Lance, status?!”

“East and west sentries just about taken care of.” ..Was that his voice? He sounded weird. Like he was talking through a mile of water. Huh. His bracers had at some point shifted into his paladin uniform again, too. Now that Lance had a second to think about it, that was also pretty strange. Was something wrong with him?

“Huh?!”

“Commander, look—he's right! How'd they—”

“—Com..mand..er! These tactics.. are known to me.. We are being.. herded. Southern f-forces... We must needs—evacuate.” Man, En spoke annoyingly slow. The rest of the sentries to his left and right were already downed by the time they finished gasping out the intel. Lance grabbed another blade's sniper rifle and slipped through the opening of the building, activating his boosters so he could get around to the other side and start taking care of the rest. His pulse was surprisingly quiet as he landed down on the ground next to the corpse of Silvio.

“Heyy, uhh, Keith?” Several miles of water now, his voice was barely audible to himself. He wasn't sure if Keith even responded. “'Think something might be wrong with me. Dr. Nguyen was prob'ly right. I'll tell you after. ” He laughed at how easy it was to admit to Keith now, when he promised himself he'd never breathe a word.

A whisper of a voice. Keith? Impossible to tell. The light in his mask was near blinding, but he rounded the first corner of the building, watched a hilariously massive swarm of sentries arise from a crater in the ground, looked back for a second at the ship Keith was on, then, somehow, looked at it from above.

His bones felt strange. There was wind pushing all around him. Oh, he was flying. How did that happen? He tried to laugh but water came up.

And for a second, he thought he heard Blue.

-

CLIFF HANGER! okay so one of my goals has been to get across that Lance is a very unreliable narrator, and has avoidant tendencies where he doesn't like to think about the things that upset him (let alone talk about them!!), so I hope that's come across in these chapters! I wanted to vaguely hint at things like, for example, his old therapist (Dr. Nguyen) at one point recommending Lance not becoming a soldier again. Or how Lance planned on never telling Keith about that since obviously Keith wouldn't have invited him to be a Blade if he knew, & would probably feel really guilty! But I also worry I'm being too vague, so. I at least want to offer some clarity and context here. 🤣 Apologies if it's confusing at times!

ALSO. Kosmo has taken to teleporting into Lance's room and cuddling with him almost every night. This will be revealed to Lance later on LMFAO.

[rosanna-writer]

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (10/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~4.8k

Some dialogue in this chapter is taken directly from ACOTAR book one.

Read on AO3 or you can find the tenth chapter below the readmore.

ch. 1 - the altar is my hips | ch 2. - an arrowhead leading us home | ch. 3 - by the way, i just may like some explanations | ch. 4 - can't not think of all the cost | ch. 5 - honey i rose up from the dead | ch. 6 - this mad, mad love makes you come running | ch. 7 - therein lies the issue, friends don't try to trick you | ch. 8 - it's not his price to pay | ch. 9 - is it chill that you're in my head? | ch. 10 - rooting for the anti-hero

Rhys shoved me off his lap, roughly enough that I wasn't entirely pretending to stumble towards an empty spot at the very edge of the room.

Don't draw attention to yourself, he said, closing his shields until the smallest chink of an opening remained. Just enough to communicate, but he was clearly trying to shut me out as best as he could for this.

He sauntered towards the dais, hands sliding into his pockets again. Though his body language was casual, he couldn't hide that lithe, predatory grace as he moved, that way about him that sent even powerful faeries scurrying. Beautiful, in a terrible sort of way.

I took the opportunity to scan the crowd for reactions. A blue-eyed faerie with dark skin and white hair stepped forward, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Though it was muted, I sensed enough of an aura of power around him that I recognized him as the High Lord of the Summer Court. His appearance didn't match the description Mor had given me before I'd left the Night Court. The last one had died, then. This was a new, untested High Lord.

Rhys circled the faerie on the ground. I felt his mounting dread through the bond—it matched my own—but despite that, he was still smirking and making this interrogation into as dramatic a show as he could.

And it was working, the whole throne room waiting with baited breath.

The only sound was the faerie's sobbing and half-coherent pleas for mercy. There was real pain shining in the Summer Lord's eyes. Even fae from other courts looked sympathetic, not just afraid. That made sense—from Mor's brief introduction to inter-court politics, I knew that the Summer Court was neutral, well-liked even.

"He wanted to escape," Rhys said to Amarantha. "To get to the Spring Court, cross the wall, and flee south into human territory. He had no accomplices, no motive beyond his own pathetic cowardice."

The Summer Court faerie pissed himself—perhaps Rhys adding a cruel touch to the show, perhaps real fear—then abruptly stopped shaking. I half-paid attention, more interested in the way the Summer Lord relaxed just the slightest bit despite the puddle on the floor.

It was enough for me to be sure that Rhys hadn't told Amarantha everything. In some small way, he'd shielded the Summer Court.

Amarantha rolled her eyes, pouted like a child, and said, “Shatter him, Rhysand.” She flicked a hand at the High Lord of the Summer Court. “You may do what you want with the body afterward."

The Lord of Summer bowed; he might be untested, but he was clearly savvy enough to recognize this small gift for what it was. The grief on his face was almost too much to look at.

Rhys slipped a hand out of his pocket, and I reached down the bond for him. For once, he didn't shove me out. In an awful way, I was glad of it—I recognized the sick sort of sadness on his side of the bond. I'd felt the same way in between shots when it had taken more than one arrow to kill an animal.

The Summer Court faerie was marked for death as soon as the Attor found him—Rhys was merely putting him out of his misery. I'd done it for countless deer and birds I'd killed with imprecise initial shots, but it wasn't until that moment that I realized that I hadn't afforded Andras the same courtesy, just watched him twitch and bleed as his breathing slowed. A part of me even thought he'd deserved it.

Perhaps that made me a monster, too.

Rhys clenched his hand into a fist, and the faerie slumped to the ground, blood leaking from his nose. At least it had been quick. I squeezed one of the talons in my mind; there were no words for this. All I could do was remind him that he wasn't alone.

Amarantha said something sharp and irritated that carried over the murmuring of the crowd. I didn't catch it—with the attention on the dais, another faerie had come to stand next to the place where I was leaning against the wall.

Like the High Lord of Summer, this male had dark skin and radiated power. The crisp, white bolt of fabric that formed his clothes was a distinctive style that Mor had trained me to recognize. Rhys had called him an ally once.

This was Helion Spell-Cleaver, the High Lord of the Day Court.

He watched Amarantha, but I suspected he was paying attention to me. I was tempted to move away, my sense of self-preservation wisely telling me that High Lords were to be avoided. The protection the body paint afforded me was the only reason I was brave enough to stay.

"The Night Court plays dangerous games," he said, soft enough that I was the only one to hear it. "It's unfortunate that you've become involved."

I had no idea what to say to that. Helion continued to stare straight ahead, as if he hadn't even noticed me. He'd clearly meant to send a message, but I wasn't sure what.

Before I could string together enough words for a reply, he walked away. Just as he disappeared into the crowd, he clenched his left hand and uncurled it. Very deliberately.

Helion Spell-Cleaver knew I'd been glamoured. And maybe he could even see through it.

If he knew about my bargain tattoo, then he'd probably scented the mating bond, too. The smart thing to do would be to pass that information onto Amarantha—I wouldn't blame him for it if he did. There was no winning Under the Mountain, only difficult choices, and he'd be right to shield his court at my expense.

Worse, he could cleave the glamour and expose us any time he wanted.

I was temped to tug on the bond and tell Rhys, but there was still too much attention on him. With the turmoil I was feeling from him, I worried he might not be able to focus enough to keep from visibly reacting to me trying to get his attention. I tamped down my rising panic before it could cross the bond.

Instead, I pushed my way through the crowd, back to the table full of food and drink where Rhys was standing. He poured himself a glass of wine and downed it in a single gulp, the only outward sign he was anything less than perfectly composed. But I could feel his horrible mix of guilt, anger, and self-hatred churning like the sea in a storm.

Amarantha was too angry for the party to last much longer. Faeries made their excuses and left; Rhys said something degrading about returning me to my cell before I threw up again and spoiled the mood, then walked me out of the throne room with a hand on my lower back. Once we were alone in a deserted hallway, he winnowed us to the dungeon.

"I'm sorry," he said, voice thick once we could speak freely. He stopped bothering to hide the anguish on his face. I reached for him, but he shrank back from my touch. "I don't deserve that, not right now."

He wouldn't have tolerated this from me when he'd brought me that soup. I wouldn't accept it from him, either.

"Rhysand," I hissed. He stiffened in shock, eyes going wide at the sound of his full name. It was the first time I'd ever used it. "What you want matters to me, not what you think you deserve. Either come here or tell me you don't want me to touch you."

He said nothing, just took a step towards me. It was all the permission I needed. Completely heedless of the paint I'd smear all over his clothes, I pulled him into an embrace and felt him bury his face in my hair.

"I'll never understand why you didn't run from me on Calanmai," he whispered. "You'd be better off if you had."

This ran too deep to talk him out of, especially after I'd been humiliated in front of a room full of faeries and he'd carried out an execution. But the only direction I wanted to run was towards him. It didn't matter that only a drop of his power was enough to shred minds, that the blood of innocents stained his hands, or that everything about him was dark, dangerous, and deadly.

"I'm not afraid of you," I said, pressing my face to the hollow between his neck and shoulder. "None of this is your fault. All you've done is your best with the hand you've been dealt. Over and over. Read my mind if you don't believe I admire you for it."

He said nothing back, but we were pressed so close it was impossible not to feel him cry. Perhaps it was his turn after what I'd done to Lucien, worse this time because he hadn't been able to prevent a death. I ran my hands up and down his back, just as Mor had for me on my first day in the Night Court.

Eventually he pulled away from me, completely calm again. There was no sign of tears—he'd made sure of that with his magic—but I certainly wasn't cruel enough to point that out. With a flick of his hand, he cleared the paint from his tunic. "You should change before you freeze," he said.

I hadn't noticed my clothes folded into a neat pile in the corner. When I picked them up, I caught a whiff of laundry soap—Nuala and Cerridwen's doing, I suspected. And next to the pile, there was a folded blanket of soft black fabric. Rhys was staring at it, and I shot him a questioning look.

"I didn't ask the twins to do that," he said softly. "That's the bedding in the Night Court servants' quarters—they brought you one of their spares."

News of what had happened to Lucien must have filtered down to them, and yet they'd still done this to help me in a small way. First Rhys, then his family, and now his handmaidens—I'd never had so many people in my corner.

I wouldn't let them down.

But for the moment, Rhys was right about changing into something warmer. I started to slip the dress off, then paused at a shuffling sound behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that he'd turned his back to give me privacy.

I snorted. "It's a bit late for that, don't you think? And if I really minded, I would have waited until you left."

"I would have thought you'd be tired of being stared at," he said quietly.

"Not when you're the one doing it. You're mine."

Maybe it was wrong considering the fresh blood on his hands, but another shiver—this time not from the cold—ran through me as he turned back around. The bond went so taut my heart skipped.

You're mine. Rhys had kissed me the first time I'd said it on Calanmai; something about those two words seemed to have an effect on him. If I wasn't mistaken, he liked hearing me say them. Quite a bit. I filed that observation away for the future.

The hunger that had been missing earlier was plain on his face now. I smiled and pushed the dress the rest of the way down my shoulders. Rhys didn't touch me, just watched. It felt right to peel the fabric off, the same way it had the first time he'd thrust into me on Calanmai. I let that thought cross the bond, and to my immense satisfaction, the violet of his eyes went darker.

When I was completely bare save the paint that only his hands had marked, I picked up my tunic and leggings but didn't put them on. A damp chill still permeated the air, and the stone floor had nearly numbed my feet. But I didn't want to break the moment.

Unfortunately, the involuntary chattering of my teeth did it for me.

I pulled on the clothes, then slipped on my boots, wiggling my toes to get the feeling back. With one wave of Rhys's hand, the pins disappeared from my hair, which returned to its usual braid. It was easier to think like this, in practical clothes instead of a costume. And we still had more to discuss.

But before I could get a word out, Rhys pushed me back against the wall, the movement somehow both gentle and too fast for my human eyes to follow. He'd been waiting, I realized, ensuring I was comfortable before he pounced on me, biding his time like the world's most considerate predator.

"And you're mine, too," he said, dropping his head to whisper it in my ear. The pads of his fingers pressed lightly into my hips.

I slid a hand between us, running it up his chest before looping my arm around the back of his neck. I wanted to keep him this close forever. Beyond that, after wearing next to nothing in front of Amarantha's court, I wanted his hands on me, a reminder that the rest of them might look but no one other than him would touch.

And well, if our time was limited, we could multitask—there was no reason we couldn't do this while we discussed strategy. "You should know," I said softly, "that while you were busy with that Summer Court faerie, Helion approached me. He knows something, but I'm not sure what."

Rhys tensed, pulling back just enough to watch my face as I explained what had happened. His face darkened, but thank the Cauldron, he didn't take a step back from me, just interlaced the fingers of my free hand with his.

"Unless there's something else at play, Helion's abilities won't tell him anything about the bond, just that there's Night Court magic glamouring you. I'll make sure he doesn't cleave it," he said.

That wasn't as bad as I'd feared, though it made me nervous to know Helion could reveal our secrets any time he wanted, even with just the small drop of power he'd been left with. It was too much leverage for another court to have over us. "How?"

"Helion is a good male, and I should be thanking him for trying to give you an out tonight. He probably thinks I've hurt you," Rhys said, face darkening. "I'll have to snarl a bit and insinuate it would end badly for you if he tries to interfere. That should be enough."

I bit back a frustrated noise. Rhys was already walking a thin enough line, chasing faeries away from me without arousing suspicion regarding exactly why he was so interested in me. Helion had just unknowingly added another complication.

"Will you be alright?"

He squeezed my hand. "I'll manage."

It was better than telling me yes—I would have known that was a lie. I still wished we had a better best-case scenario. Another pang of guilt washed over me; this whole mess was being prolonged because I still hadn't solved the riddle.

"She's going to be upset, isn't she?" I said, lifting the arm I'd looped around his shoulders so I could stroke his hair. Almost imperceptibly, Rhys leaned his head back into my hand.

"Nothing I can't handle."

I took that to mean the answer was yes—though privately, I was beginning to suspect there wasn't anything in the world Rhys couldn't handle when it came to protecting me or his court. Or at least, nothing he couldn't handle when I had his back. We'd get through it.

Rhys ran his nose along my jaw, and a for a moment, we were quiet, just breathing the same air while we still could. "I don't think I'll be able to see you until the night before your first task," he said eventually.

My stomach lurched. "The night before?"

"It was becoming difficult to find compelling reasons that I hadn't had my way with you yet," he said, lip curling in disgust, "but she liked the idea of you walking into your first task as 'damaged goods.' I'll bring you to my room and let everyone else draw their own conclusions about what we're doing."

We'd need to figure something out for afterwards, but it wasn't a half-bad plan. I'd have a better shot at actually getting some sleep before the first task, at the very least. And I wouldn't complain about anything that got me closer to him, even just for a night. There were still several days until then, and it might be enough time to solve the riddle.

I doubted he could stay for much longer—Amarantha wouldn't be pleased her party had ended so early. And I suspected she wasn't quite finished with the Summer Court, either, and there would be more minds she expected Rhys to dig through.

"Stay safe."

He huffed a single, humorless laugh. "Only because you insist."

I started to say something else, but he kissed my cheek, then disappeared into smoke and shadow.

After that, I was alone in my cell for several days straight. Rhys was mostly quiet, though there was a near constant thrum of anxiety and exhaustion from his side of the bond. I hardly slept, all-too-aware of his own constant sense of alertness, and when I did, my dreams were a blur of him torturing faeries for information about the Summer Court or obeying Amarantha's every whim in the bedroom. I barely kept my paltry meals down.

I turned the riddle over in my mind countless times without getting any closer to an answer. As the days dragged on with no progress, so did my gnawing sense of guilt for not solving it and ending this already. I considered every weapon, every object that could possibly land a powerful blow, but none of them would kill anything slowly, let alone have soft-handed and sweet ministrations.

And this was supposed to be easy.

After a few days, Nuala and Cerridwen arrived, wordlessly painting me and dressing me in another barely-there gown, red this time. I wasn't surprised—if Rhys was telling everyone he was dragging me back to his room to assault me, we'd have to make a show of it. I just hoped this party ended up with a lower body count.

Afterward, the twins brought me to the throne room. When I realized Rhys wasn't there to walk in with me, I felt a flare of panic. But a reassuring tug from his side of the bond let me know that was an intentional choice.

He was seated near Amarantha's dais, leaned back in the chair with an ankle crossed over his knee. I tried not to look too relieved, even though it felt like the world righted itself once our eyes locked. The mask was on—he looked me over as if he were trying to decide how best to pick me apart and leave nothing intact, just for sport. I stopped in front of him, glaring daggers.

"Thank you for bringing her to me," he purred, all dark promise. It was directed at the twins, but his eyes didn't leave me.

Despite myself, my cheeks heated. There was still an audience and a role to play, so I decided to spin the flush into one of indignation. "Tamlin will kill you for this," I spat.

Rhys inclined his head to where Tamlin was sitting, silent and useless as usual, while Amarantha leaned in and whispered something in his ear. "Will he? Doesn't seem like it to me," Rhys said.

"Then I'll kill you myself."

He grinned. "I'd like to see you try."

I kept glowering, letting my hands curl to fists at my sides as Rhys dismissed Nuala and Cerridwen with a single elegant, imperious gesture that spoke to years of ordering servants around. He crooked a finger, beckoning me closer. I crossed my arms. Something flashed in his eyes, and I made a show of jerking forward, as if he'd forced me.

There was a soft pulse of approval down the bond as he pulled me into his lap. I hated how good we were getting at this. He nudged my legs open with his, and I sat very still to avoid exposing myself further. Tamlin didn't blink.

"Come now, Feyre," Rhys crooned, wrapping an arm around my waist. "No need to be like that when we're going to be such good friends by the end of the night."

I would have make a show of struggling, but that have just given the entire crowd a glimpse of the parts of me I was desperately trying to keep covered. But still, I needed to avoid looking too comfortable, so I stared at Tamlin and let myself feel every last drop of my rage that the stone-hearted bastard couldn't muster the smallest sign of concern for me. Soothing talons stroked the edge of my mind.

Am I going to have to dance again? I said, opening my shields a bit wider.

No. And no wine, either. We're only staying long enough to get some food in you before tomorrow.

If you're feeding me yourself, I'm going to bite your hand. Not because I minded—there was quite a lot I'd endure if it meant there was food in it for me—but because it was part of the role I was playing. And it would be unfair not to warn him.

Please do.

Rhys flagged down a passing servant and plucked some food off the tray. With our shields down and minds pressed close, I caught a few of his worried thoughts about how little I'd been eating. But even as he fretted inwardly, his smile was full of nothing but malice.

"Eat, Feyre. You'll need to keep up your strength for everything I have planned for you later," he said, holding a piece of fruit out for me. I shook my head. "Open that pretty mouth of yours."

"I'll show you what my mouth can do," I hissed, then bit down hard on the soft spot between his thumb and forefinger. Something that wasn't quite laughter crossed the bond.

But I pretended he wore me down eventually, lulled into complacence like a dog who'll do anything for scraps. Amarantha, at least, seemed to enjoy the show, alternately laughing at me and whispering in Tamlin's ear. Rhys and I kept it up for as long as we dared—not enough for the food to be called a meal, but still a vast improvement over the bread and water I'd been given since I'd arrived.

Finally, he nudged me off his lap, and it was an effort not to look relieved. He led me out of the room. As we passed Tamlin, Rhys got in one last smirk, letting his hand drift down from my lower back to my ass.

Once we were far enough down the hall, we winnowed to his bedroom. I took in the neatly made bed, the utter lack of clutter or personal touches. I'd seen this room in my mind before, when Rhys had made sure I'd known how to find it if needed, but there was something about seeing it through my own eyes that reminded me exactly why he so rarely slept here. I shivered.

"If you'd like to wash off the paint, I ran a bath for you," Rhys said, taking his hand off me and stepping away.

I relaxed, relieved we could speak freely. Even though I'd just bathed a few hours ago, it had been ages since I'd gotten into a warm tub without someone else dunking me in the water. "Thank you," I said.

"I don't trust the servants who clean this room not go through my things, so there aren't clothes for you here. Take mine," he said, jerking his head towards the ebony dresser.

I pulled open a drawer to find a stack of neatly folded clothes, all black. In the townhouse, I'd refused to snoop through his things, so I wondered if the lack of color was normal for him, or an affectation he put on Under the Mountain, even if black was the color of the Night Court. Pushing those thoughts aside, I grabbed a set of sleep clothes that were almost certainly too big for me and headed to the bathroom.

Bathing with Rhys on the other side of the door and a pile of his clothes to change into felt like a strange mockery of the sort of domesticity we'd never been able to have. I hadn't ached more for Velaris since coming Under the Mountain. I didn't call the city home the way Rhys did—I didn't have a home anymore—but there wasn't anywhere else I'd rather be.

When I returned to the bedroom, Rhys was still standing in the same spot, and if he hadn't also changed, I would have suspected he hadn't moved at all. Something softened in his eyes as he took in the sight of me in sleep pants I'd had to roll up several times to avoid tripping on.

"The bed's yours," he said simply.

I sighed. "I'm not kicking you out of your bed, Rhys." Not when I'd spent years sharing a much smaller one with both of my sisters. It's not as if there was another option—I wasn't enough of a monster to make him take the floor.

I slid under the covers, and the bed was so large that if he'd done the same, I didn't feel the telltale dip in the mattress. Out of habit, I curled up near the edge, taking up as little space as possible. Not that it mattered when there was so much room.

I closed my eyes, and the candles in the room winked out. Rhys didn't come near me. I tried not to think about it—there were a million reasons that had nothing to do with me that he might want the space. This night was as much of a reprieve for him as it was for me.

But if I wasn't thinking about that, it was the riddle and how I still hadn't solved it. I worried about what I might face tomorrow, whether or not I'd live another day and everything that would be lost if I failed. My thoughts were so loud that even with my shields up, I suspected I was shouting them across the bond.

I'd never fall asleep like this.

I rolled over to face him just as he did the same, our movements inadvertently coordinated yet again. Even in the dark, his eyes glittered like stars. I wondered if it was Night Court magic or another aspect of his usual annoying perfection. His hair wasn't mussed despite rubbing against his pillow.

"I can't sleep," I whispered, my voice unexpectedly rough.

"Too much on your mind?"

His lips twisted into what was clearly meant to be a knowing smile, but I sensed his unease, too. No matter how perfect his mask might be, he couldn't hide it. Not from me.

"Can I come closer?"

"I was waiting for you to ask."

Before I could move, his arms were around me. I slid one of my legs between his—when I'd said closer, I'd meant closer. I tilted my head so it was pillowed on his bicep and resting just underneath his chin. He pressed a kiss to my wet hair, splaying both hands on my back to pull my chest flush with his. I don't think we could have been touching in any more places.

It still didn't feel like enough.

"That's better," I whispered once we were settled. He hummed in agreement.

This was the closest thing I'd felt to peace since I'd woken up after Calanmai, but the knowledge of what tomorrow would bring kept both of us from relaxing completely. But still, we deserved more nights like this. I'd solve the riddle and make it happen. I had to.

I closed my eyes and willed sleep to come, but it never did. From the rhythm of Rhys's breathing, I could tell he was also awake. But I kept quiet, afraid of disturbing him if he did manage to drift off. He did the same for me. Though I didn't sleep that night, I let myself dream for the first time in a long while. Curled up in his arms was the only way I felt safe enough to imagine what things might be like if—no, when—we escaped from Under the Mountain, a future worth fighting for.

We stayed like that for hours, though it wasn't nearly long enough. Rhys must have known it was morning from some internal clock he'd developed after decades Under the Mountain, or perhaps because as Lord of Night, he always knew the position of the moon. "You should be getting back soon," he murmured, breath warm against my cheek.

I sighed—he was right. It took all my willpower to pull away from him and stand up, a new wave of fear crashing over me. The full moon was rising. My first task was in a matter of hours.

Rhys shifted me back into my tunic from the Spring Court and himself into another immaculate black jacket and pants. I took a breath, then held my hand out so he could winnow us back to my cell.

Perhaps it was just the dim light of the dungeon, but when I dropped my hand, there was no sign of fear on Rhys's face. For once, it didn't feel like an act. Before I could ask, he said, "The task plays to your strengths. You're going to win."

I nodded, letting that steady me. Even if Rhys couldn't tell me about the task, he'd had her ear this entire time. He'd been fighting for me. "Of course I'm going to win," I said, forcing a smile.

Amarantha, I was sure, would want to hear all about how the night had gone—Rhys couldn't seem to eager to stay with me. As much as I wanted to keep him longer, I couldn't. I leaned forward to kiss him goodbye, but he stepped back and smirked. "I'll kiss you afterwards. Consider it extra motivation to beat the task."

And that's when I knew none of his confidence in me was an act—if Rhys thought there was any chance at all I'd die today, he would have kissed me goodbye. My smile went a bit wider. "If it's my reward for not dying, it had better be one hell of a kiss," I said.

He winked. "Only the best for you, Feyre darling." Then, more softly, he added, "I'll see you soon."

He winnowed away, and I was left alone again. I spent the rest of the time pacing my cell, hoping I'd come up with the answer to the riddle at the last minute, but I had no such luck.

The guards arrived to drag me upstairs for my first task.

[vishwasca]

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[casspurrjoybell-21]

Pirate Chains - Volume 2 - Against Tides

*Warning Adult Content*

Chapter 4 - With bated Breath - Part 3

Lord Nyx Aimeri

"Okay, that's it. Get out, Maren."

"What? You're not going to fuck but I bought two whores, man and a great deal. Just try it..."

I ignore his repeated protests as I stood up and pushed him out of the tent.

One of the whores shout me a disgusted look before she stepped out.

The other woman, Trixie, wrapped her arms around my waist.

"Good thing you sent them away, now I have you all to my self."

She slipped her finger into my pants and I immediately panicked, pushing her away.

She stumbled back, almost falling.

"I'm so sorry m'lady... I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Oh, it's fine, sweet buns. I'm glad you have it in you... I like it rough."

She approached me and I stepped back.

'My God. Her persistence was making me feel so uncomfortable.'

"Tsk, tsk, tsk."

The tent opened and two other women came in.

I suddenly missed my cousin, Haven, he used to take care of all lady related issues.

The first lady was one that I wished I would never see again, Izel, the one that took Agenor away earlier that day.

She walked inside like she owned the place.

"I told you before, Trixie, get the money before the fuck, now get out of my face."

Trixie look very upset but somehow it seemed like she was used to this. She left with a pout, then left.

Everything about Izel screamed finesse and seduction, from her strong eye-catching lipstick, to the way she moved.

She eyed the cabin, a frown working it's way on her face.

She looked displeased about something, she turned to me and said calmly...

"Now. I've been told to bring a nice hot meal to the Captain's tent. You don't happen to know a woman that the Captain is keeping here, do you?"

I shook my head, trying not to think about the thousand questions that went off in my mind.

"Hmm. I was almost sure though... oh well. Doesn't matter. I was paid to bring this meal to his tent, it doesn't concern us if there's nobody here to receive it. Put the food down, Cherri."

Izel motioned for the second woman to come in.

This one was younger though.

She had caramel skin and light brown hair.

She wore beautiful clothes and even make-up.

If not for the way Izel talked to her, I would have thought she was her daughter.

"I told you dear," Izel said to Cherri with a smirk on her face.

"You haven't lost your chance, yet."

Cherri didn't answer, though.

She stepped forward and set the covered basket on the sand, then went to stand behind Izel again.

Izel went to turn around and leave butt she halted suddenly to ask me...

"Who are you?"

I was a little startled with the sudden attention but I quickly gathered my focus and answered...

"I'm one of the Martina crew."

Izel seemed more intrigued after I answered.

She approached a little, walking her eyes from my toes to my eyes and then all the way down again.

I shifted uncomfortably but she didn't seem to care.

"A pirate?" the suspicion in her voice couldn't have been more obvious.

'A pirate... am I? Three days ago I would have probably said yes. Now I'm not sure who I am anymore...'

She smirked at me as if she was reading my confused thoughts in my head.

She grabbed her dress with the tips of her fingers and curtseyed gracefully.

"My name is Izel a humble courtesan. I own all the whores on Esme Island and I provide other services. And your name is...?" she held out her hand with her palm facing down and presented a polite smile almost foreign to this entourage.

I took her hand lightly and immediately bent to place a kiss on her knuckles.

"My name is Nyx Osb...."

'Shit. What the hell am I doing?"

I released her hand and imminently straightened my back, then I tried to continue without looking flustered.

"My name is Nyx and I work for Agenor."

But the regaled smirk on her face and her raised eyebrow told me that she caught on to my odd behaviour.

She laughed and tilted her head.

"I knew you weren't a pirate. You reek of courtesy young man. Interesting..." her eyes flashed with interest as she kept eyeing me off, stopping at my bare feet and releasing a small chuckle.

I felt ashamed of my dirty feet and I tried to bury them a little in the sand.

"If you don't need anything else, I would like to rest if you wouldn't mind."

"Aye, excuse for keeping you from your chores. So where is your tent, pirate?"

'None of your damn business.'

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh pardon my curiosity, I only wanted to send you a beautiful gift later."

I look at her questioningly and she explained with 'a matter of fact tone...'

"A woman, a whore to be exact and it will be on me. Consider it a way of welcoming you to Esme Island."

"Thank you for your intentions but I'll need no such services."

"Oh really? A pirate refusing a fuck after a long journey on the sea. Interesting indeed..."

I didn't answer this time.

It seemed like every time she asked a question it was to play me, maybe to get some information out of me, maybe just to entertain herself.

Right now, I frankly don't give a shit.

I'm hungry, tied and in a shitty situation where I am most probably facing death or worse once Agenor knows what I did today.

So pardon me if I'm not a ray of sunshine to the woman who pulled Agenor away from me in the first place.

I didn't utter a words of my thoughts, thank God for that.

I'm angry and fucked up, I didn't want to deal with the guilt of speaking unmanly to a woman.

Finally she got the gist and she sighed.

"Seems like your luck is running out tonight, Cherri but we never lose hope, do we?"

And just when I thought Izel was heading out, she touched a lock of Cherri's curly brown hair and looked at me from the corner of her eye.

"This is Cherri, beautiful, isn't she? I've been raising her for months now, preparing and hand training her to meet your Captain..."

My heart fluttered but I tried to keep from showing my feelings.

'This young woman was trained... to be with Agenor?'

"Well, we'll head back now. Please tell your Captain that I delivered what he ordered on time. I'll leave you to rest now, pirate Nyx. And remember, my offer still stands whenever you feel lonely," and she left the tent after motioning Cherri to follow her.

With the silence that reigned over the tent, the headache settled again.

I kneeled by the basket of food, uncovered it and took in the delicious scent.

I went to eat some but then hesitated.

I was very hungry but who said this was for me?

Maybe it was sent for Agenor.

Why was that Izel woman here when Agenor hasn't come back yet?

I went against my better judgement and eat a little.

The food that settled in my stomach made me forget my worried momentarily.

When I ate enough, I pushed the basket aside and crawled along the sand to the only corner not occupied by boxes.

I laid on the sand, it's softness and coldness numbed my senses and I surrendered to a needed sleep while praying for tomorrow to come and leave in peace.

[fanficspringboard]

Blackboards and broomsticks

Status: Complete

Wordcount: 99k

Rating: gen

In his mid-twenties Harry Potter quits his auror career and jumps into the opportunity to become DADA teacher at Hogwarts in the hope of better work-life balance and finding again job satisfaction. The fic follows his first year of teaching and Ginny's second pregnancy.

The story concentrates on the domestic aspects of life - we get detailed descriptions of discussions of dinner table, Ron bringing over casserole, Ginny wearing pajamas at home etc. There will be readers who enjoy the fluff and familiarity of setting, to me it's the biggest drawback of the story - it could be as well set up in a non-magical alternate universe. The in-depth exploration of home life kills my joy of reading and takes away form the magical, whimsical aspects on the universe. I choose fantasy genre for escapism, and reading about post-partum problems of sitting on the broom is on the extreme opposite of what I'd like to read.

Most of the characters are portrayed in a bland and naïve manner. After the war Hogwarts underwent many changes with introducing new subjects and staff members, yet it takes a newbie Harry to introduce such innovative ideas as study adaptation club for the first years or promoting inter-house cooperation. Harry remains bashful when interacting with McGonagall and teary-eyed when he learns more stories from his parents' past. In contrast, Ginny is a much more interesting and realistic character with quit wit and more insight into people.

Any attempts as suspense, conflict or action are very clumsy - the alleged mortal peril in introduced and solved within a chapter. The next action peak is loosing child midst of crowd of the Diagon Alley, just to find him a few minutes later. The only short-lived conflict is a results of the most obnoxious execution of miscommunication trope I had the bad luck to read. With so few notable events, the read was tedious and simply boring. Perhaps with some radical editing the fic could be more enjoyable.

I was encouraged to soldier through the fic because of the tag professor Potter and I how curious to see Hogwarts through the eyes of adult Harry and understand the magical skill progression and teaching process. However Hogwarts and Ministry are treated only as a backdrop to the family matters.

I am sure there will be readers who take enjoyment reading how Ginny and Harry nearly cry leaving for the first time their firstborn at the daycare. However it was very disappointing to me.

3/10

Link to AO3: click

Image from Unsplash by Mwesigwa Joel

[deadorcaffeinated]

Sparks, Pt. 3

Pairing: Loki/Reader

Chapter 3: Red Light Goes On and On and On

Chapter Summary: You fill everyone in on where the hell you came from. A plan forms.

A/N: Time to officially meet the Avengers… more Loki in the next chapter!

TW: Talk of violence

(Read first part here)

“Electrical disturbance, some kind of mass outage,” Agent Hill reported.

“She’s a goddamn EMP?”

Fury wished he had something to throw, or more accurately, someone to throw it at. Not only was there already one dangerous variable on the ship, capable of transforming into an unstoppable monster at the drop of a hat, but now he had a motherfucking human EMP who could conceivably drop their ship out of the sky at any moment.

Just another day at the office.

He’d called a meeting as soon as you woke up. There was no time to waste if his theories were correct, and he needed as much information as he could get from you. He’d already sent agents out to check the area that the charge had originated from. Now all that was left was to use your information to fill in the gaps… hopefully, you would be compliant.

For all he knew, you might be some kind of spy, an agent from an opposing intelligence community or government. Though, something about your attire and complete lack of being able to lay low, told him otherwise. You had none of the hallmarks of a seasoned spy. If he were lucky, you might even be an ally.

_____

“I do need to debrief you on a few things before we go into this meeting.”

After complimenting your use of her perfume, Natasha explained to you where you were, and… it was difficult to believe that you were floating thousands of feet in the air. And that the man-- she called him Loki-- was also being held in confinement on the ship, some special kind of cell. It sent a shiver up your spine to know that he was on the craft.

She told you that he was the brother of Thor, reminding you of the incident in New Mexico from a few years ago. Apparently, he had recently stolen an object of immense power and they had yet to recover it. Not only that, but the nifty little scepter he was waving around had been used to put some of their own agents under a form of mind control— and they were still MIA. Every word out of her mouth only served to increase your unease.

Somehow you’d escaped a prison, only to run straight into an inter-world conflict, complete with aliens and mysterious weapons. Typical.

Exasperation must have shown on your face, because Natasha touched your shoulder with a reassuring hand. “I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot to take in at once. But since you’ve faced the brunt of his power already, it only seemed fair to fill you in.”

She winced apologetically, “Plus... I’m afraid we’re about to ask you a lot of questions.”

Natasha let you steady yourself before walking into what seemed to be the huge command center of a spaceship, and you thought immediately of the bridge from Star Trek.

Before you was a table, at which already sat the three men you’d met earlier, along with a black man with an eyepatch, a brunette woman, a balding, white man in a suit, and a muscular blonde who could only be the God of Thunder, Thor. You aren’t ashamed to say that your eyes lingered a bit longer on him than the others.

All of a sudden, the sci-fi insanity of your life came into clear focus, and you stifled a laugh at how absurd everything was. You were literally a science experiment, and these people were gods and superheroes, floating on a huge aircraft carrier complete with it’s own supervillain.

The one-eyed man stood to greet you. “I’m Director Fury, of S.H.I.E.L.D. This is Agent Hill and Coulson,” he nodded to either people on his left and right. “I believe you are already familiar with everyone else at this table.”

Director Fury had the stage presence of someone you felt it was important not to disappoint, larger than life and possessing the utmost authority. If you pulled a photo out of a box labeled ‘super spy’ it would look exactly like the man in front of you.

Scanning their faces, you realized you never got the name of the doctor who was there when you woke up. “I believe I do. Except, I didn’t catch your name. Doctor…?”

“Banner,” he supplied.

The table before you was shaped like an odd, rounded triangle. The chair at the apex was empty and that was where Natasha ushered you to sit, after which, she took the unoccupied chair to your left. On your right were Steve Rogers and Dr. Banner, and on the other side of Natasha sat Tony, fiddling with his phone, but looking up for a second to smile at you. Then, a bit past him, seemingly unwilling to sit, was Thor. He hovered uneasily, his arms crossed, though he did offer you a polite nod in greeting. Directly across from you were the director and his two agents.

Director Fury nodded to Agent Hill, who began her line of questioning.

“You and Loki were in the same pub just hours before he wreaked havoc on that gala. Did he approach you, say anything strange to you?” While she asked you this, Fury’s gaze did not deviate from you. You imagined that this was how it felt to be viewed under a microscope.

“He… Didn’t say anything about it to me. He just... greeted me and bought me a glass of wine. It was strange,” you answered honestly. Hill and Coulson jotted some things down on their respective papers.

Coulson spoke up this time. “You disappeared from the face of the earth about eleven months ago. Can you fill us in on what occurred in that time?”

The gargantuan room somehow seemed to shrink around you. Suddenly, you wanted to run.

No, these people were clearly helping you. Right? Captain America of all people wouldn’t let this organization put you under experimentation again… or so you blindly hoped. Pillar of morality, Steve Rogers. If you could trust anyone, it had to be the only guy trusted with Erskine’s serum.

Coulson spoke your name, catching your attention. “Allow me to say, we’ve looked into your background, and everything paints a picture of a well-adjusted young woman, at least relatively close to her family. You had no disciplinary troubles, your grades were picture perfect, but…”

“I dropped out of college.”

“Yes. And then you disappeared, and no one so much as filed a missing persons report.” Fury said, lacing his hands on the table in front of him. “We aren’t putting you on trial here. We just want to understand how all of this fits.”

You studied your hands, acutely aware of everyone in your periphery. In a small voice you said, “They never filed a missing persons report because it was meant to be a year long program.”

And so you began to tell them everything... How you struggled with an affliction that no doctor would diagnose, starting from your later years in high school and escalating until you dropped out of college.

“It was like I was bombarded by random symptoms or emotions at a rapid rate. I was always exhausted. I was always anxious and depressed. I would get symptoms of cold or flu without having the illness, and according to the doctors, no allergies either. Weird things like that. And it only got worse as I got older.

“And then we received a letter in the mail. A medical program in Germany claimed to have a year-long sort of isolation therapy that could cure the mysterious disease. They didn’t call it by a name, but they listed every symptom I experienced. My parents thought it was a miracle.

“So I flew to Germany. My parents wanted to fly with me, but I told them I’d be fine. I was picked up by a nice car when I got there, the driver was polite enough. They were all polite… Did a great job of keeping up the ruse. Only after initial evaluations, and they had us all divided into separate rooms for a few days, did they give up the illusion that we were there by choice. We were prisoners.”

No one interrupted you while you spoke, and occasionally you registered Coulson or Hill taking a note, the scratch of pen against paper. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed that Tony was no longer on his phone, but staring straight at the table, unmoving. Listening.

“And that wasn’t all. Apparently whatever made us sick was exactly what they were looking for in test subjects. Something about mirror neurons and an overdeveloped anterior insular cortex. Too much empathy. Made us perfect for the sort of testing they were interested in.

“I tried to get out twice, before I actually made it.” You were silent for a while, cueing the others to ask questions. Your cheeks were hot and your heart was fluttering.

“How did you succeed the third time? What was different?” Dr. Banner looked at you, head tilted in curiosity. Next to you, Steve leaned forward slightly in interest, his forehead creased with concern.

“‘Me,” you said. “My abilities were stronger. I didn’t realize how strong until I…”

The flash of a memory skittered across your mind. A burst of light. Your handlers flying back. Every electronic device or light bulb in the vicinity shattering, going dark.

You shook yourself to the present. “They were done experimenting on my body, so they moved on to messing with my mind. They wanted total compliance.”

“What, like mind control?” Stark asked.

You nodded. “Something like that.”

“You still haven’t told us exactly-”

“The EMP,” Fury said, his unblinking, singular gaze aimed at you. “There was an electrical disturbance in the countryside, three days before Stuttgart. That was you.”

They were taking you back to the lab to ‘continue your conditioning’. You were begging them, begging them not to do the treatment again, that you would comply without it, you didn’t need to be wiped. But when your pleas fell on deaf ears, the sounds coming out of you turned animalistic.

You could hear your own cries echoing in your head.

“Yeah,” you answered quietly.

There was a stretch of silence as they waited for you to continue. Part of you was afraid and ashamed to admit what you’d done. Not the EMP, that you hadn’t even thought about-- a total accident-- but your actions afterward.

“It fried my cuffs. My handlers went down. I… I didn’t check to see if they made it,” you shifted your gaze down to the table, unable to look at anyone, fists clenched in your lap. “I just booked it until I was far away. I didn’t stop. Not even to... To help any of the others.”

In front of you, Fury tapped something onto a data pad, and several photos of the compound flew up to occupy the empty space above the table. Every vehicle was gone. “I’ve already sent people to check out the site. Entire damn place is deserted.”

No.

Your heart rate sped up as panic seized you and it was suddenly very hard to breathe, as if you were feeling the true altitude of the ship, and you were falling. Who all had you left to languish in their control? To empty and torment? It was as if the walls of your cell were around you again, closing in, squeezing the life out of you.

A hand touched your shoulder.

“Hey,” It was Natasha. “You did what you had to do to survive.”

“No one is to blame but them.” Steve spoke, the conviction in his voice so palpable, you had no choice but to believe him. And you clung to that strength to keep you from drowning in guilt.

Fury tapped the pad again, and the images disappeared. “I have agents tracking them down. If they drop so much as a crumb, they’ll find them.”

“They have someone,” you said, an urgency in your voice. “He’s the one who brought me in the first two times. Incredibly strong and fast. Enhanced, but I don’t know how. Probably like you.” You dipped your head towards Rogers. “Your agents need to watch out for him.”

Fury’s lips pursed in a way that might have been comical if you weren’t so distressed.

“I’ll let them know.”

“Do you remember any names? Of the doctors, the patients?” It was Coulson, again. And you thought about how, if you slapped some aviators on him, he would look exactly like every FBI agent in every movie ever.

But that thought passed, and images of the other victims flashed through your mind, bringing with them more waves of guilt. “They didn’t really let us speak to each other. We weren’t allowed to mention names, only the numbers they assigned us. At the time, they said it was to protect our own privacy, but it was really only to protect theirs in case one of us got away... I guess it worked.”

“Can you think of any reason that Loki might have approached you at the bar?” Hill asks.

“He probably sensed her power.” Thor spoke up for the first time since you had walked into the room. “Loki possesses a knack for pinpointing power and weakness. Whether that’s in an object or a person.”

“What I want to know is why your brother seems so Happy Gilmore to be on this helicarrier,” Tony said. He glanced around. “Come on, hasn’t anyone noticed? Practically purred at Banner as he went by.”

Dr. Banner raised his eyebrows. “He’s not wrong.”

“I noticed,” Fury confirmed. “Believe me. We’re just working on the ‘why’.”

Everyone seemed to sit in their own thoughts for a moment. During the quiet, you debated whether or not to bring something to the table that could help, but would also potentially put you directly into the warpath that is Loki.

You figured that since you’d already taken a direct attack from him, and you had stumbled into the goddamn middle of all this anyway, what the hell.

“If there’s something you want to know about him… Well, uh, there might be something I can do about that.” All of their gazes fell to you. “I can see into someone’s mind by touching them, or if we’re both touching a conductor. With enough time.”

Your words hung in the air like a bad joke at a comedy club. The only sound was the scribbling of the two agents and the work being done on the floor below.

“You can what?” Fury’s monotone cut through the awkwardness. You swallowed hard.

“Read minds, Nick. Got something in your ears?” Tony cut in, then turned sharply to you. “That is what you're insinuating, right? There’s no ‘gotcha’ at the end of that sentence you forgot to include?”

Somewhere to your other side, Dr. Banner sighed and removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes. “Even so, it’s too dangerous. You can smell crazy on that guy, there’s no telling what tricks he has up his sleeve.” He winced, and looked at Thor. “No offence.”

Thor shrugged. “Loki is full of tricks.”

“If it can save any number of lives down there,” Fury pointed towards the ground, ”Or up here,” he gestured to the ship that surrounded you all,”Then I’m willing to take that chance.” His singular gaze turned to you, again with the sensation that he was drilling into every secret you had.

“Are you?” he asked.

You opened your mouth to respond, but was overtaken by an eruption of words from everyone else.

“That sounds like a bad idea.”

“Again, dangerous.”

“The young lady seems strong.”

“Nick…”

“Sparky seems up to it.”

The flurry of dissent was met with a stern gaze from Director Fury, as he waited for everyone to settle. His eye did not deviate from you, and that one brow was still raised in the question: Well?

“I want to do it,” you said, extracting another murmur from the group. “I saw what he did in Germany. I heard his speech about war and domination. There are still people out there under his control, right?”

Fury nodded. Out of the corner of your eye, Natasha’s head bowed suddenly. Something personal there, you thought.

“Then yes.”

Tags: @purplekitten30 @scorpionchild81 @mjaudrey @srhxpci @the-maroon-panda @lirinstaalem

[haliyam]

interim (ii)

zeke x reader/oc

summary: You return to Liberio not long after the Warriors arrive home from their failed mission in Paradis and discover that things have changed. (Or they will, and maybe a little more with Zeke than you expect.) [Season 4 and manga spoilers ahead]

AO3 link | Ch 1 | Ch 3

Hi again! I forgot to note in the first chapter that Reader here is 19 years old, while Zeke is 25. (Clearly, before the developments of this story, there was nothing but friendship there.) For the other Warriors, I put Pieck at 19 as well, while Porco is Reiner's age (around 17/18 that year). Marcel would have been the same age as Pieck and Reader in my headcanon. If you're not comfortable with the age difference, I understand.

Also, about university here so you don't get confused this chapter - I lifted the medical school system for Marley from Germany's current system where after a competitive state exam post-high school, students are able to head straight for medical school for a 6-year track followed by specialization.

Reminder that the Reader/OC, default name Lucy, is a cis-female Eldian character with a set background, but please feel free to set the substitution for the Reader to your chosen First Name using the InteractiveFics browser extension if you’re reading through the browser! So that would be: Lucy = Your or your character's First Name. Because reader will have a set background, you'll have a set surname as well.

Chapter 2

You don’t even get a moment to breathe. General List launches into a speech about the nerve of other so-called nations almost as soon as you sit down. Apparently, those in the Mid East peninsula have grown considerably bold over the last few months, with several navy ships withdrawing from the port of Ichakar and transferring, presumably, to Qali - which gives them a better angle from which to attack the mainland if they so wish it. They’ve also fortified their borders—ground troops distributed across the land close to Marley’s newly acquired cities—which is of course the sovereign right of those nations, but it’s blasphemy to the regime’s unending ambition.

You wish they had given you a brief with all this information before the meeting, the kind you have seen Willy and father poring over in their office in the past, but you get the feeling that the general is unloading information on you with the intent to overwhelm. 

“On the diplomatic front,” he continues with a hint of mockery, because of course he thinks of such things as futile, “they have been making demands. Asking that we keep to our waters when it is they who have encroached upon ours! The audacity—the delineation clearly states—” He continues to ramble until he is red in the face, but your neutral expression must slip into a wide-eyed look at some point, because he regains his composure with a visible wrinkle of his nose. “This arrogance can only mean one thing.”

He stares at you, and you realize he is expecting you to answer. You feel all eyes at the table on you, the Commander’s especially, and clear your throat. “...Weapons research, Sir?”

“Weapons development, Miss Tybur,” he corrects you. “Advanced and more prolific than we may have considered.”

He pauses, and you can’t help but speak. You can tell Magath knows it because he sits up straighter somehow, and in a moment of rebellion, you refuse to recognize the caution in his posture. “With all due respect, Sir, the… armaments race among the other nations is no secret, and on Eldian labor, no less.”

A fist slamming on the desk causes everyone around it to jump in their seats. “It’s what Eldians deserve!” the general next to List says, so naturally that he might have been born saying it. You blink, the heat of embarrassment and indignation crawling up your neck, but it’s only with List’s raised hand that the man remembers that the white band on your left arm is only for show. He glances away. “Present company excluded, of course.”

With the exception of his hand, List continues as though neither of you ever interrupted him. “And now, to the point. We need further information on the status of this little race. That is where you come in, Miss Tybur. You will use your family’s connections to enter the peninsula with our people - the peninsula and beyond, as the exact lay of their operations lies beyond our ken - and retrieve this information.”

It’s one thing to predict a general’s words and another to be confronted with them. You suppose you were still hoping he wouldn’t say it. “General List, are you saying you want a Tybur to be a spy?”

List glances over at Magath. “They were trained for interrogation, weren’t they?” Your old instructor is barely able to nod before the general recalls to you, “Ah, yes, I read the file. You withstood all but the final test. A failure then, but rather more a fluke, in my opinion. An irreplicable circumstance.”

You don’t say anything. You would rather not remember that night. Or that particular moment.

He takes your silence for agreement. “And so I answer, why not? You became a Warrior candidate - unprecedented initiative and involvement by the Tybur family. Why should this be any different?”

“Because—” Because becoming a Warrior isn’t a choice a child makes of their own free will, not really, but a Tybur doesn’t question the decisions of the former head of the family, of father, before all these strangers. No matter that they were loyal to him. You purse your lips. “Sir, I just don’t believe I’m the right person for this.”

“Your file did say you were always hasty, Miss Tybur,” List says, and you both glance at Magath at that. He doesn’t nod, only meets your gazes. He seems as trapped in this as you are, which makes your resentment for him ebb only slightly. “But you should know better now.”

Now you’re getting irritated. The temper that was your closest companion in your early childhood, and then your early adolescence seizes your fist under the table as List continues. “How goes Foundation operations?”

The Tybur Family Foundation. Set up by Walter Tybur when he first became head of the family and operated by the eponymous Tyburs - most often chaired by the spouse of whoever leads it. Your mother first, once, when she cared to, and now Mila. It provides healthcare and educational opportunities for ‘peoples once oppressed by the Eldian Empire,’ as part of continuing reparations for sins the Tybur family did not commit. Or so they say. Many of its employees now are Eldian, part of Willy’s initiative to improve Eldian relations… but in reality it does little when the Foundation is only a grantmaking organization.

“Well enough, Sir.”

“Is that so? From what I hear, the Foundation is unable to set up even offices in several countries in spite of the family’s stellar international relations.”

“And,” you add carefully, “if they ever catch wind of my close involvement with the regime even after all this time, that will not improve.”

“Clearly, Miss Tybur.” His level gaze shifts to patronizing in all the ways you hate. “But say you become more independent. Distance yourself from the military that leads our fine motherland… Say,” he smiles, “that you make overtures of dissatisfaction with Marley’s cruel expansionist policies and express the utmost sympathy for other nations. Perhaps then they will permit you to expand your operations within their borders.”

Your jaw almost drops at the very suggestion. You’ve always thought, since Willy became Lord Tybur, that only the Tyburs have the power to change the direction of Marley. For obvious reasons, not so obvious to the rest of the world, but also for the heritage you represent. If the Tybur family can be good Eldians, why can they not be only one of many good Eldians? Why not introduce the concept that any Eldian can be good, as any other race of people? 

“You…” You rein in your reaction even as your imagination sets off in the direction List has set it—and far more. Especially the part where the Tybur family spreads the good name of Eldians throughout the world. No more ‘special’ treatment, no more interment zones…

No more Warriors.

Maybe. If Marley gets what it wants. 

You would allow that? was your question. But the answer, you understand suddenly, is that they would allow perhaps the chance of it, in exchange for Marley’s continued expansion using Eldian bodies on the front lines. A slim chance of sparing Eldian lives for the certainty of losing them. You feel lightheaded just considering it. You want to help, but you are the last person who should hold so many lives in her hands.

Your eyes refocus on General List. A pleased smile brims beneath his well-trimmed beard, like he’s already read your mind. But he can’t know—you’ve shared your thoughts with no one but Willy and Lara, who have been as dismissive as they have been receptive. In other words, as though you’re still the child father sent away thirteen years ago they expect will eventually forget all her questions.

“Does Lord Tybur know about this, Sir?” You eye the intelligence officer not far from List. 

List clears his throat. “Not as yet. Lord Tybur might be more receptive to such a scheme were his sister to present it to him herself. We are aware that Lady Tybur chairs the Foundation. Her movements are conservative, but she may agree to a more generous, active Foundation on your word.”

Scheme. That’s what it is, but that isn’t what really catches your attention. Willy and Mila, listening to you? You want to burst into laughter, tell them that they have severely misunderstood the dynamics of the Tybur family. But that intelligence officer is here, which makes you think List is lying.

“Why not ask Lady Tybur to head the operation?”

“Lord Tybur would never allow us to risk his wife,” List laughs. The implication of his words is hardly lost on you, but the general tempers his mockery with a compliment. “And we believe a new, younger face for the Foundation - perhaps one our enemies believe to be foolishly idealistic - will better suit it.”

Foolishly idealistic. Like the sort of person who would agree to this plan. Your face doesn’t fall, but your eyes do - toward the table, the way the fingers of each general drum against the wood. Magath’s hands clasp each other, firm as ever. When you look up to List again, you frown. 

“Sir, you know that I’ve returned to Liberio to enter the university’s medical program.”

“Yes, yes, we were quite impressed when we learned of your state exam results, Miss Tybur,” List waves, impatient. He’s been relaxed back against his chair, but now that his certainty is dwindling, he leans forward on the table. “But think. Look at the bigger picture. As a physician you may help a man in need one after the other - years and  years down the line. Six years at the shortest, and if you mean to be a specialist, how much longer? But with the Foundation’s resources, and with our backing at that, you will aid hundreds, thousands - and the motherland most importantly. Within the year. Half, if we move quickly.”

You bite your lip. You want it and you don’t. The Tyburs must do something, or else we are nothing were your exact words to Willy before. But the idea of retaking your name when you have only just arrived here nauseates you, and assisting the expansion, the destruction, under the guise of aid more so. 

“I… would like time to give this some thought, Sir.”

A sigh seems to echo around the room, but it’s only all the men with you and their exasperation. Only Magath is expressionless as List visibly bites his tongue. He gives the commander a glare for good measure, as though it’s his fault you did not agree at once. “Very well,” he says. “But know that prolonging this will only bring harm to the motherland.”

You only nod. Much as you would like to have it, you have no intention of getting the last word here. You avert your gaze from the Commander when you permit the men to leave the room ahead of you.

It seems like the start of a rather miserable day - you’re practically scheduled to overthink all this some time this week, if not this afternoon - when, once the steady march of power has cleared from the hallway, Pieck meets you as you step out of the conference room.

“Boo.”

Your hand flies over your chest, but it’s a chuckle that comes out of you. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“So I’ve been told.” She peeks into the room behind you right as you close the doors. “The brass did not look pleased.”

You wince. “I gave them no reason to be. I hate to get the Commander in trouble, but...” You trail off. You both know you can’t say much more.

It’s Pieck’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“...Sorry.”

“That’s all right,” she shrugs. “I came here for lunch, not information.”

You doubt she knows the extent of the Tyburs’ relationship with the regime, but you can always trust Pieck to know not to pry. “You know, I remember now why you’re my favorite Warrior.”

“Oh?” Pieck grins. “Not the Boy Wonder?”

“Boy Wonder,” you repeat, the way the two of you always have when that name comes up - with a snicker and definitely with no one else around. You’ll never understand how the brass can say it with such straight faces. “So how about that meal?”

She pinches at the skin of your elbow through your sleeve. “Changing the subject doesn’t work on me, you know.”

You sigh. “Can we please eat first? I’m miserable enough without an empty stomach.”

“I guess some things don’t change.”

“Hey!” You half-scoff, half-laugh. With a wink, Pieck slips her arm around yours, and you start down the hallway in companionable silence. 

Or you would, if you didn’t know that you owe her a little more than that. Reaching over to rest your free hand over the arm linked with yours, you look at her. “I’m sorry, Pieck. I really am.”

Pieck waits a moment, and then meets your gaze. She searches yours for the lie, but she already knows it won’t be there. You always were too candid for your own good. With a squeeze at your hand, she nods. “I know. Tell me all about it after that meal. Your treat, right?”

You blink, and then laugh with shaking relief. “Of course.”

--

You and Pieck fall back into the easy rapport you’ve shared since you became friends more than a decade ago. Contrary to her words, she doesn’t press you for answers as you decide on where to eat in the zone. For old times’ sake, you agree on the sandwich place two blocks from the Yeagers’, and you end up sharing a meal in your bedroom. 

Sitting on your bed together, legs dangling over one edge as you nip at your food, you finally work up the courage to speak through your guilt and explain yourself and the past five years—or most of it. And of course Pieck is understanding, which makes you feel even more pathetic. True to form, she picks that up as well and gracefully changes the subject.

You’re the one who brings it back to what still hangs in the air over you when you’ve finished eating. Nothing personal—but though Marcel was the only one with whom you were ever close friends with, Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie were your teammates too. You’d suffered your superiors together during training, and you’d been there for each of their first transformations. For all the experiments too; even their first assault mission. 

“What happened?”

Propped up on one elbow, Pieck is lying on her side, legs tucked under her skirt as you set aside your trash. She accepts the glass you hand her from the table, eyes distant. “Zeke hasn’t told you?”

“Zeke won’t look at me unless he absolutely has to. You know how he is.”

Pieck groans. She knows. “He was so irritating after you stopped writing.”

You click your teeth in a wince. “Really?” 

“Imagine, Lucy—after you all left, I was stuck with him and Porco. The abandonment issues didn’t just double, they were exponential. Multiply that with the ego and the sarcasm? The Commander was my favorite person those days.”

You laugh in spite of yourself. “I am so sorry, Pieck.”

“You should be,” she grumbles, but the remark is softened with a grin. When you grimace, she braces herself with a deep breath.

She tells you everything, or most of it: that the people of Paradis were shocked to find others alive outside of the walls, what Reiner and Bertholdt and Annie went through the past so many years, how the latter were captured—and exactly what happened to Marcel. She saves that one for last, and though you are infinitely more curious about the world behind the coward king’s walls, you reach for her hand again.

“I’m sorry, Pieck.”

She shakes her head. “You don’t have to make apologies all day, you know.”

“Don’t I?” you grin, embarrassed, teeth gritted even when your feigned mirth starts to droop. The dreamy way she speaks throws others off, but you know Pieck. She’s always been the most pragmatic of the Warriors and so she must feel silly, thinking about what could have been, had Marcel returned. Would a childhood crush have become something more between them if things were different? He had promised his family, and her specifically, that he would come home after saving the world. The thought, the regret for a chance not even yours gone, has a weight settling in your throat too.

You clear it and huff. “Well, it’s a great loss. I think everyone was a little in love with Marcel.”

Pieck glances at you.

“...Except Annie,” you add.

The sudden exemption makes Pieck choke with laughter, with tears not far behind. “Except Annie. Of course.”

You giggle, and both of you pretend not to see each other wiping your own eyes. “You know. Annie was always the toughest among us.” You pause. “Is. She is.” When Pieck’s laughter gives way to somber agreement, you ask, “What about Reiner? What has he said? I know what he’s said, but… two weeks of  debriefing… it sounds like a little much.”

“He was there for years,” Pieck shakes her head. “He grew up there, Lucy. He’s… completely different now. Kind of like you.” 

“I think that’s giving me a little too much credit.” You haven’t done anything remotely in the way of serving the motherland; not that you begrudge the others that the way you once did. “All I’ve done is see things and get upset. Until I can get my degree, and then until I can get the War Hammer, there’s nothing I can do.”

That’s a lie. There is apparently the Foundation—but the idea of directly assisting the regime in its efforts is something you cannot consider as you are.

“If you do become a doctor, will they let you have the War Hammer?”

You bite your lip. If only for Lara, you’re still bitter about that. “What was it all for otherwise? Though… I guess if I had inherited it then, there’s no way I’d ever be able to come back and see you all except under specific circumstances. Much less be permitted to study.”

Pieck only sighs, reaching for your hand. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t. And when I think about it… a part of me is glad Marcel didn’t have to see all of what Marley has done. What we had to do in Paradis—and I only saw a speck.”

You know what the others did, but Zeke and Pieck’s involvement apart from retrieving your old comrades is still vague. 

You squeeze her hand reassuringly, but you can’t help it. “What did you have to do?”

 “What we’ve always had to,” she answers with a faint smile. Your friends always had tells when they would rather not say more, and this is unmistakably hers. Given your earlier explanation, you understand why. She intertwines your fingers with gratitude at your silence. 

“So,” you start after a while, “how about some dessert before I walk you back to HQ?”

“Sure. I might as well treat myself a little before we have to head out to the mountains again.” At your questioning gaze, she says, “Training with the Panzer Unit. That’s what all the paperwork was for.”

“Gross.”

She chuckles. “That’s exactly what Zeke says.”

Your face falls at the mention of him. Relieved as you are with your progress with Pieck, Zeke is an entirely different ball game. You hate that that’s the phrase you even thought of.

“You know what?” Pieck sits up smacks her hands on her lap. “I’ll treat you, too.”

You perk up. “Really?”

“For a price.”

“...What’s that?”

“Talk to Zeke already. If I come back after a month to your gloomy faces still, I’m going to go crazy.”

“It’s only been a day,” you mutter. “And I’ve tried to apologize to him.”

Pieck gives you a knowing look. 

“I did,” you insist helplessly, but you both know that’s probably a lie. In Pieck’s case. You know it is absolutely false: when Zeke came upstairs after dish duty, quietly closing the door to his room, you stepped out of yours and stood outside in the hallway, your hand raised to knock on his door. You just couldn’t do it. You can take Porco’s jabs any day, but last night, the thought of Zeke and his silence, or worse, his caustic cheer, sent you scurrying back to your room.

You sigh. “Fine.”

Amused, Pieck gets to her feet for the opportunity to loom akimbo over you. “Good. And if you start to lose heart, try to remember that six-year old who used to glare at Magath like she had nothing to lose. That girl had guts.”

“You mean the half-dead one who wasn’t allowed dinner and got a Warrior class’s worth of cleanup duty alone, whom you specifically told to get over herself if she didn’t want to actually die a few months into training?”

“Exactly. What is Zeke going to do? Tell you to go to your room without dinner?”

Maybe. You sigh. “Sometimes I don’t like it when you’re right.”

Pieck grins. “And when Zeke gets over himself—maybe he’ll tell you about his brother.”

Your shock would be better illustrated in this moment were you sipping a drink you could spit in her face. “His what?”

“Shh. I don’t think he’s told the Yeagers. I think… he only told Magath because I was there when he discovered it. Still,” she says when your eyes remain wide and expectant, “it’s not my place to say. So talk to him.”

--

Medicine is one of the few fields for which Eldians are permitted to pursue higher education. It’s only logical—there are only a few non-Eldians who care to treat pig-blooded devils, and the efforts of those who do are wasted on said filth. And so the regime allows the admission of more Eldians than often permitted under quotas for other majors, even if the number does remain small regardless.

After parting ways with Pieck, you find yourself standing in line in some administrative building in the University of Liberio in the midday heat of summer. The line stretches outside because this is the queue for Eldian students wishing to confirm their intention to enroll over a month from now. That’s all—you need only submit a form and pay a fee, and the line for non-Eldians students has long finished—but of course the line has barely moved for your kind.

You’re clutching your envelope and your permit to your chest, which you quickly realize is a terrible idea. Sweat is starting to trickle down the nape of your neck, and you start to fan yourself with the envelope. Talking to the other applicants in line is prohibited - you must be spaced far from one another so as not to make noise and distract students who actually deserve to be here.

It’s ridiculous. You can’t even leave the line because saving spots is prohibited. Something about being fair.

The frustration crawls up your neck in the form of prickling heat, and you feel a headache coming. You fan yourself more vigorously, trying to calm down. It takes a minute, but the background buzz eventually starts to soothe you, and you begin to accept that you can simply return to the Yeagers’ and change as soon as this is over. The glares your line receives from passing students and the guards watching you, ensuring none of you causes a ruckus (as if any Eldian would dare), fade under the memory of your childhood. You withstood it before, with Magath and the other drill instructors screaming in your face. You can ignore a few nasty looks.

With that as a frame of reference, the line is even almost... peaceful. The heat is dry, not humid, there’s no mud, no blisters in your feet, no rucksack weighing you down, and no rifle either. 

Only the sudden rustle of paper as it slips from your thumb interrupts that peace. 

“No!” you gasp, watching your permit flutter closer to a guard with his back turned. 

Just then a hand swoops in to save it - its owner bent forward, dark hair falling over his face until he rights himself, permit in hand, and glances around. You sigh in relief when you spot the band around his arm and wave him over. 

He jogs over to you, hand already extended with the permit. “Confirming your slot for the medical school?” he asks, brushing away the bangs that fall over his face. He’s got the slightest stubble around his jaw, which he brushes his fingers over when he notices you looking.

You meet his gaze when  you notice you’re looking. “Yeah,” you say, clearing your throat. He smiles at once, as if he can tell you’re embarrassed, but he only casts a glance at the line behind and ahead of you. “It was a lot worse during my time. They had us looping around the gate.”

“Ugh, really?”

He nods, but swallows down his grimace to lick his lips. “I’ve… never seen you around the zone before.”

You blink. Smile a little as you glance around the line. “You know everyone in the zone?”

He opens his mouth to respond with a sheepish grin that makes his eyes twinkle when movement behind him catches your peripheral vision. One of the guards watching the line has noticed him and is stomping his way over. Noticing your alarm, he sticks out a hand. “I’m Kellan, by the way.”

“Lucy. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Lucy,” he repeats, and you’re barely able to shake his hand when the guard yanks him back. 

“Damn pig’s blood—!”

“I’m going, sir. Sorry,” says Kellan, ending the apology with his eyes on you even as he winces from the shorter man’s grip. When he’s eventually released, he ducks away and walks off. He glances over his shoulder to wave, but another guard keeps him moving with a shove.

The shorter one glares at you when he’s gone, and though you remember Pieck’s words, you know this isn’t the time or the place.

“Sorry,” you mutter, eyes to the ground as you turn ahead. Once he’s assured of your submission, he leaves too.

The line takes longer than you expect, but you survive the sweltering heat and submit your form just before the offices close. You hurry back to the zone afterward, dropping by the Galliard bakery to call on Mr. and Mrs. Galliard and offer your condolences. They are shocked but overjoyed to see you, and insist that you take your old favorites when they discover that you’ll be dropping in on Mr. Finger afterward.

You don’t stay long, though Mr. Finger is pleased about your choice of future employment. You feel even guiltier at the unspoken regret in his smile, and beg him not to mention it when he tries to thank you for the support the Tybur family has sent the Fingers over the years—the one thing you think Willy has ever done right.

You return to the Yeagers before dark, early enough to help Mrs. Yeager start with dinner. Dr. Yeager is apologetic as always, but you’re able to change the subject by serving the blueberry pie from the Galliards for a mid-meal dessert of sorts, and the dinner table relaxes soon after. Zeke is absent - he still hasn’t come home from work - so you make sure to leave some for him. This time, Mrs. Yeager allows you to take over cleanup, and the couple retires to their bedroom once the conversation fades into a comfortable silence.

You hope to meet Zeke right as he arrives, corner him into talking to you somehow unless he decides to miss dinner himself, but after half an hour of sitting at the dinner table, cleaning anything you might have missed in the kitchen and the dining room, and rearranging anything out of place in the living room, it starts to look like he won’t be coming anytime soon. 

That’s fine, you tell yourself. You feel slimy from being out in the sun all afternoon anyway, and you treat yourself to a relaxing bath. Zeke is still away when you return to your room, and the calming warmth of your evening has you yawning. You have no choice but to change into your pajamas. 

In truth, you’re a little relieved. Not that you’re particularly answerable to Pieck anyway, at least not until she finishes training with the Panzer Unit, but it won’t be your fault that you and Zeke weren’t able to talk tonight. But just to feel as though you’ve tried your very best, you keep yourself up by starting to write to Lara—and then regret your principle when you hear heavy footsteps outside and a soft click of the door across yours.

The word you’re writing skitters off to the edge of the paper in your surprise. Your heartbeat invades the tense silence of your room, but you manage to take a deep breath, folding your unfinished letter and slipping it under the paperweight on your desk. 

Your door is your next obstacle.

Overlapping images of how Zeke will surely reject you race through your mind alongside the words you wish you could say, and you’re able to keep up with about... none of them. You thought that the words would come to you, and maybe they will, but the moment is about to come and you can’t think of a single word to say. 

If you have time to worry, you have time to just get over there and do it, you tell yourself. You shake your head, regretting your own harshness, but also nod as you hastily gulp down the glass of water on your bedside table. Those words in mind, you move, switching one door for another. No longer standing nose-to-panel with your bedroom door, you’re doing it with Zeke’s in the hallway instead. 

Hand raised to knock, you eye the light peeking out from the gap beneath the door.  Knock. Just knock. The worst he can do is turn you away, and you’ll probably want to wriggle under the dirt and cry, but you’ll at least have tried. You owe it to him to try, like you did with Pieck, and you know you’re braver than this. Or you were, once upon a time.

If you’re still the same girl from years ago, you don’t get to find out just yet.

You hear his footsteps coming from the bathroom too late. No, it’s the heat of another and the familiar scent of his soap which alert you to his presence.

That and his voice, still too deep for the older boy you remember. “Aren’t you a little too old to still be knocking on my door at night?”

“Zeke,” you say, trying to pull your heart down from your throat before you turn and meet his flat expression. He’s in pajamas himself, his hair damp. You must not have heard him head for the bathroom you share down the hall. “Hi.”

That’s more than your mind could summon a while ago, but you still want to smack yourself.

His chest rises and falls as he takes a deep breath. His jaw shifts even as his pale eyes stare down at you in the dim light, as if deciding what to do with you... and then he sighs. He’s too tired to be glib tonight. “Can I help you, Lucy?”

Your lips purse with trepidation, but you stand your ground. “Can we talk?”

He pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. Looking down at you is clearly work. “I’m listening.”

You hesitate, trying not to make another face. It seems to come naturally with Zeke around, but you resist the urge, and instead tilt your head to the side. There is no light coming from the master bedroom down the length of the hallway. When you glance back up at Zeke, you give him a pointed look.

Zeke sighs again, and then… decides to just brush past you to grab his doorknob.

Your stomach twists with both disappointment and pique. “Zeke,” you whisper furiously, barely just stomping your foot.

He whips his head to face you, halfway inside already. “What?” he whispers back, like you’re nagging him. Then he rolls his eyes, swinging his door wide open and backing into it to give you room. 

“Get in.”

--

Sorry for the dearth of Zeke moments this chapter, but the next one will mooostly feature him and yes we'll finally find out why Zeke is upset. I used to write very long chapters with fics, but that really exhausted me so I'm trying to write shorter now to keep myself from burning out. But I'm enjoying writing in 2nd person! I never used to do it because it was frowned upon long ago, and possibly still is now? But idc anymore it's fun to try.

Thank you for reading!

[all-consuming]

Some Dramione reading material for you. Made by our brilliant fandom writers. Neatly compiled for your enjoyment. One-shots first, followed by multi chapter. Hope you can find something to tickle your fancy. ( * represents a personal favorite)

<3 an obsessed Dramione shipper

1. (Not so) Fake Dating by MsRen

A fter claiming she'll be bringing a date to Christmas at the Burrow, Hermione finds herself in a bind considering there is no boyfriend. Until Draco insists that he can fill the role. Faking a relationship can't be that hard, can it? After all, they've already got the tension down.

2. Whiteout by gubabuba and LovesBitca8

Detention with Draco Malfoy shouldn't be this complicated, should it? || Seventh Year AU (Bonus:ART)

3. A Drop in Pressure by featherandink

Hermione Granger is in pursuit of an answer.

4. Queen of Lonely Hearts by raven_maiden

Hermione Granger has a brilliant idea for the office Christmas Party this year. Her coworker, Draco Malfoy, begs to disagree.

5. A Patient Man by LadyKenz347

Draco Malfoy is fine to wait. He's a patient man, after all, but when Hermione remains oblivious to his advances, he decides it's time to take matters into his own hands.

6. Caffeine Cold by HawthornSparks

He grabbed her by the waist, pulling her into him as he stared down at her, breathing furiously, teasing her with his aching hardness pressed tightly between them. “This isn’t a game, Granger.”

“Fuck you.” He grinned briefly, sharply, before leaning in hard and fast again, bruising her lips - she was sure of it.

7. Slowly Toward Desire by phlox

Hermione decides then and there to stop thinking she has any idea whatsoever of what to expect from Draco Malfoy. She hasn’t a clue.

8. The Department of Inter-Magical and Nonmagical Relations by badjujuboo (miztrezboo)

Hermione Granger annoys Draco. The way she chews her pen annoys him. The way she stares at him with her big eyes and the way she always argues infuriates him. And just when did he start thinking of her as Hermione, anyway?

9. Beltane by elithein and senlinyu*

When Draco had heard the week before that several eighth years were planning to sneak out and perform a Beltane sex ritual in the Forbidden Forest, he dismissed it. Fertility rituals were intensely private magic, not something anyone with respect or common sense would enter into experimentally while attending school. Ravenclaws. Fuck all Ravenclaws. (Bonus: ART)

10. Ungentlemanly Behavior by missELY and morticiahavisham

After a tipsy hook up, Draco Malfoy has an apology to make. Hermione Granger would prefer not to hear it. But when they're forced to work together on a tricky translation, she's finds she can't avoid it.

11. When What’s Right is Wrong by LovesBitca8

A smutty AU of The Auction Chapter 19 wherein Draco cannot find a magical solution to his problem. (Bonus: ART)

12. The Art of Seating Etiquette by inadaze22

Hermione believes that every problem has a solution, and that solution can be found in a book. That is, until Draco starts sitting to her right every Friday. She has no answers until help comes in the form of an unlikely source: Ron Weasley.

13. My Brown-Eyed Girl by PacificRimbaud

Draco and Hermione have a lazy snuggle in the grass behind the Quidditch pitch. (Bonus: ART)

14. Out of Order by worksofstone

Hermione's stuck in a broken lift with a tipsy Draco Malfoy. What a way to spend the Friday before Christmas.

15. Fuck,Marry,Avada by Lilian_Silver *

Some years after the war, the gang meets up at the Leaky to play a silly game, with very real consequences.

16. The Unintentional Voyeur by DramioneDreaming

When Hermione Granger walks into the Prefect bathroom looking for a way to release some tension she doesn't expect it to be quite like this...

17. Familiar faces, worn out places by LovesBitca8*

“You are at St. Mungo’s. You were in a coma.” He looks me over again, taking a pause. “I am a Healer here now,” he says, like it explains something. My fingers stretch, drifting across his sleeve. He looks down, like I’ve thrown mud at him. Forcing my vocal chords together for the first time, I whisper, “What’s your name?”

18. Apples & cream by LovesBitca8

She could have taken her things and gone through his Floo without a word. She could have ignored him on Monday morning, as though last night had been no more than a fever dream and too much Firewhisky...But she’d come back to bed. (Bonus:ART)

19. Strange you Never Knew by raven_maiden

Something strange is up with Malfoy, Hermione's fellow Auror and secret shagging partner. Ready or not, she's about to find out.

20. Seeker Fit by elithien and senlinyu*

“Will the Head Girl grace the pitch with her presence for today’s match?” The timbre of Malfoy’s cool lilting drawl slid down Hermione’s spine.

She stared determinedly at the book on her lap. “As I have explained many times now, I despise Quidditch. Sitting in the rain, watching people zoom around on broomsticks, risking their lives for the sake of a game is not even remotely enjoyable.” There was a pause and she glanced up to be greeted by the sight of Malfoy, dressed in his Quidditch uniform, carefully tightening the laces on his dark leather shin-guards. (Bonus: ART)

21. Voices Drifting by raven_maiden*

After one last night together at the Ministry Gala, Hermione Granger plans to purge her secret shagging partner from her system. But when it comes to Draco Malfoy, nothing goes according to plan.

Multi-Chapter

1. When Midnight Comes by Curly_Kay

“Granger, look at me.” Draco walked up to her, his silver eyes searching hers. “We are stuck in a time loop, all of us. I don’t know how long it’s been happening, but it’s been going for weeks and I’m the only one who has been outside the loop. I’m the only one who has remembered anything from one day to the next, that is before now—before you.” His throat bobbed with a harsh swallow. “Please, I need your help.”

2. Couples Weekend by LadyKenz347*

Sneaking away for a weekend in the woods with your fake boyfriend and your best friends is bound to have its hiccups, but no one could prepare for what this weekend has in store.

3. Wait and Hope by mightbewriting*

“Harry,” Hermione began, voice very controlled, but she could feel the blade of panic slicing at her vocal cords. “Why was Draco Malfoy just screaming bloody murder about his,” and the word almost strangled her as she said it, “wife?”

Harry's green eyes blew wide. Healer Lucas pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly displeased with the recent series of events.

“He was referring to you, my dear,” she said. “That was the other question you got wrong. Your name is Hermione Jean Granger-Malfoy.”

Hermione had to be sedated again.

4. The Right Thing to do by LovesBitca8

Hermione felt the pounding in her ears again. She would see him for the first time since the Great Hall, gaunt and stricken at the Slytherin table with his mother clutching his arm. She hadn't meant to look for him. Not in the corridors, not beneath the white sheets of the fallen, not on the way to the Chamber of Secrets with Ron, but she was a stupid girl.

5. Don’t Threaten Me With a Good Time by monstersleadmehome

Lucius Malfoy hires Hermione Granger to whip his son into shape so he can find a pure-blood bride and receive his inheritance. What could go wrong?

[irisbleufic]

Happy 2020! Can I tag you to do that 2019 Fic Year in Review thing?

Happy New Year to you, too!  Sure thing.  I can’t remember the last time I did one of these; since 2019 is the end of a decade, it feels fitting.  Here goes…

14 February 2019: After spending 14 of my 15 years (2020 marks the start of my 16th year) in Good Omens fandom working on it, I finally finished and posted the 75th and final installment of Crown of Thorns [The Walls, the Wainscot, and the Mouse] ’Verse.  LiveJournal was still the fandom’s primary posting hub when I posted the first-ever installment, A Better Place, on 1 October 2005.  The series didn’t get its second installment (The Walls, the Wainscot, and the Mouse) until 2010, but work on the series from that point forward was pretty much constant.  2012 saw a higher number of CoT updates than any year previous; that was also the year I transferred it to AO3.

25 February 2019: I finished and posted the last chapter of my third Good Omens collaborative fic ’verse with @procrastinatingbookworm, Turn In Your Arms.  We couldn’t believe there was no Good Omens fusion with Tam Lin, so we went for it.  Given our first collaboration in 2018 was a Good Omens fusion with Groundhog Day (Game Over, Insert Coin), that wasn’t a stretch.

27 February 2019: @aspiringjedi and I posted the first of our two Good Omens meta-essays, Making An Effort: Queer (Trans) Masculinity in the Ethereal & Occult Beings of Good Omens.  Yes, it’s 1,990 words due to the novel’s publication year.  When you’re just under 2,000 words anyway, why not?

28 February 2019: @procrastinatingbookworm and I followed up Turn In Your Arms with a brief sequel, Burn After Reading.  All of our collaborations to date have ended up as multi-story mini ’verses.

25 March - 20 April 2019: I went about as livid over Gotham’s Season 5 as I did over Season 3 and wrote Darkroom to address how dirty the show did Bruce and Jeremiah.  I had a stand-alone Season 4 fix-it story (focusing on Oswald and Edward, like most of my other Gotham work) called Triage from 2018 that had never quite felt like it was meant to be a stand-alone.  Triage and Darkroom became the first two installments of a series called Playing for Keeps, to which I added another 6 stories by April 20th.  Darkroom somehow got more traffic than any of my other Gotham pieces since When You Find It, Run over in DDO ’Verse (although those two stories are keystone pieces in much larger series, they can both be read as stand-alones).

4 April 2019: In the midst of working on the aforementioned, @aspiringjedi posted our second Good Omens meta-essay, Southern Pansies: Subversive (Trans) Masculinity in the Ethereal & Occult Beings of Good Omens.

8 May 2019: Brief blip back into Pacific Rim fic!  I posted a missing Anthology correspondence/inset ficlet called L’amour, c’est comme la guerre.  For anyone who ever wanted more of the email correspondence in Anthology’s final chapter, this fills in some gaps you didn’t know were there.

16 May 2019: Thanks to some behind-the-scenes persuasion from several really tenacious Gotham readers who didn’t want me to abandon it / shut down DDO ’Verse, I completed The Knights’ Tour after almost a year on hiatus from it.  This turned out to light a fresh fuse on DDO, because TTK didn’t end up being the final story in the series like I had once planned.

18 May 2019: The only His Dark Materials fic I’ve ever written, also a Gotham fusion, got a belated new final chapter.  Gold Dust is sort of an alternate take on DDO ’Verse, one in which Dust and daemons are present.

23 May 2019: I posted what I thought would be a stand-alone Gotham story called The Meaning of This City.  It manages to be a marginally less dark and complicated take on the Bruce-and-Jeremiah situation (than Darkroom over in PfK ’Verse, that is) without sacrificing some of the most difficult features of what they need to overcome.  More on why this didn’t remain a stand-alone in a bit.

6 June 2019: Good Omens requests came around, one of which led me to follow the Imagine Hastur Ficlets (which themselves exist thanks to the accidental prompts at @imaginehastur) interlude in CoT with The Imagine Hastur Epilogue.  This was a sort of neat in-narrative way to deal with having gradually come out about my biological (inter)sex and (nonbinary) gender identity over the 14 years I worked on CoT. 

15 June - 1 July 2019: I posted another Good Omens collaboration-set with @procrastinatingbookworm called Have Faith at the series-title level.  The two stories in it, You Bloody Snake and Enough of a Bastard, focus almost entirely on Hastur and Ligur.  Seeing Aziraphale and Crowley through different (and less favorable) eyes was a weird pleasure; seeing people indignantly realize they were enjoying fic about Hastur and Ligur was even more of one!

15 August 2019: @verumx persuaded me to watch Jamie Marks Is Dead with her and @one-eyed-bossman, and then implored me to fix it.  Using Our Words is the stand-alone that resulted, which is no shock given I can’t resist ghost stories.  It’s unique among this year’s stories in that it may be the only genuine stand-alone aside from the Gotham piece called Gold Dust.

17 August 2019: After an experimental in-character snail mail letter-writing exchange that lasted about 6 weeks, @verumx and I transcribed the letters and framed them in a piece of collaborative Gotham fic, We Were All Forgiven.  Since about late April, I had been getting progressively sicker and sicker (didn’t know yet that I had cancer).  Keeping busy as things got worse helped at least in the psychological sense, but by mid-August my exhaustion and difficulty eating were hitting their peak.  I was hiding it from everyone except my partner.

1 September 2019: Returning to two stories I’d written for Batman: Europa, I created a series umbrella called Once Is Not Enough and explicitly placed London (Letting Go) and Five Love Affairs under it as companion pieces.  Between Thursday Friday of this particular week, I experienced an increasingly more frightening set of symptoms that landed me in the ER and got a sequence of diagnostic tests finally rolling.

22 October 2019: After receiving a diagnosis of colon cancer on 10/1/19 and starting medical leave Monday of Halloween Week, I decided to complete the sequel to The Meaning of This City, which was a Gotham piece I’d left hanging mid-progress for weeks.  The Maze of Your Ingenuity was hard for me to complete due to constant blood tests, CT scans, and outpatient procedures in the lead-up to my Thanksgiving Week major inpatient surgery, but I did it.

23 September - 11 December 2019: My longest Gotham fic ’verse (Delicate, Dangerous, Obsessed, a.k.a. DDO), having refused to die even once The Knights’ Tour was complete, got an entirely new ending stretch of stories focusing on, of all people, Jerome Valeska and Five (514A).  They were the only two characters from canon who I had mentioned and/or shown briefly in passing earlier in DDO, but whose arcs from canon (and onward into my fic) I had done nothing to wrap up.  Challengers, Thicker Than Blood, Take This Waltz (It’s Yours Now), Finally Fair (In Love and War), and What We’re For (And What We Want) may, collectively, be the best writing I did during the entirety of 2019 (unless you count what I wrote in February to finish CoT).  The experience of terrifying, unexplained illness and harrowing treatment was entirely too timely to one of my two protagonists in this set of stories.  They were worth their weight not just in distraction, but also in catharsis.  Five survived, and so did I.

[ofbeastsandwizards]

This Is My Mess - Part 3 [Avengers x Teen!Reader]

Series Master.

I had written out a whole second part with bonding, but my STUPID BROWSER ERASED IT like whAT- so this chapter may feel a bit rushed. Sorry about that :c

Summary: The reader, a teen marvel addict who is *kind of* badass, gets transferred from the real world dimension to the Avengers’ dimension, ends up helping to defeat Loki’s army of Chitauri.

Warnings: Swearing, Violence.

I’m writing the rest of this mini-series in 1st person.

————

A day later, in Germany

“Are you sure about this Tony?” I asked lowly.

I was clinging to Tony’s back as he hovered above a building. “Nope. But if we want a chance, you need to try.”

I gulped back my fears, and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. I nodded. “Okay.”

Then, I released my arms from around Tony’s neck, and landed semi-gracefully on the building’s roof, tripping towards the edge. I gave a thumbs up to Tony, who flew up to the Quinjet. I peered over the roof and watched as Captain America fought Loki below me. 

My heart pounded. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” I mumbled to myself. 

“You know what to do.” I heard Tony say through my earpiece, which he had stocked me with.

I nodded, and watched as he helped Captain America. “Make your move Reindeer Games...” I said quietly. 

I grinned, and stepped back, getting a running start, before leaping off the roof, and actually sticking the landing, right in front of Loki, next to Tony. On the trip down, I had pulled out my handgun. I pointed it right at Loki, as he used his magic to remove his armor and helmet, putting up his hands in defense. I smirked, and tilted my head lowering my gun. 

“Good move.” I stated, finishing off Tony’s line. He moved his head to me for a moment, before looking back at Loki.

“Yeah, what she said.” Tony said.

I grinned in triumph as the Quinjet made a shaky landing. “Mr. Stark.”

“Captain.”

Steve glanced at me. I pointed to myself quickly. “Uh, I’m [Y/n].” He looked at me skeptically. Steve and Tony then seized Loki by the arms, and dragged him towards the Quinjet. I stood by their side, walking towards it with them, smiling. 

“Hi.” I said, mostly aimed towards Loki. He glanced at me emotionlessly. 

Tony looked at me. “Kid, don’t associate with the murderer.” 

I crossed my arms. “Yeah, yeah. I know things remember?” 

“That doesn’t make you invincible.”

We reached the Quinjet and climbed inside. Natasha glanced to me. “You got a kid involved in this?”

“Yeah, a lethal kid.”

I pulled out my knife and spun it in the air, giving Natasha an innocent smile. She raised an eyebrow whilst looking over her shoulder at me. “Yeah, okay.”

I stood up and went over to introduce myself, slightly still giddy. “I’m [Y/n] [L/n].”

Natasha looked me up and down quickly, before offering her hand and smiling. “Natasha Romanoff.” I took her hand and gave it a single shake. She quickly went back to flying the jet, as I moved back and sat next to Loki. He kept eyeing me suspiciously, and I just gave him a glare. He really was terrible in this movie. I could hear the Avengers talking, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I was waiting for the lightning and thunder. 

Then, I saw the flash of light. I smiled, and smirked towards Loki who looked to me then back outside. 

“What’s the matter, scared of a little lightning?” Steve asked.

Loki looked back outside. “I’m not overly fond of what follows...”

I stood up. “Guess that’s my cue! Thor will be here soon, so watch out for the bang that will happen right about-” Then, Thor landed on the top of the Quinjet. I sent my finger to point to the ramp as Tony opened the door, now adorned in his helmet again, Thor landing majestically on the open ramp and grabbing Loki by the neck. In a flash, Tony, Thor and Loki are outside.

Steve is looking at me with wide eyes. I shrugged. “I told Tony already. I know things. And I can’t tell you how till we get back to the Helicarrier. Now, let’s go get that God.” And with that, I grabbed a parachute and ran out of the back of the jet, letting out a loud scream of joy as I fell. 

I fixed the Parachute onto my back and right as I was about to hit the trees, I pulled the rip-cord and was flung into the air. I slowly descended into the forest, and once I landed, I threw my backpack off, and leaned against a tree as Tony blasted through the trees with Thor. I stood unfazed. 

I watched their exchange, slightly bored of the situation. “Don’t insult him, he’ll throw his-” I sighed as Tony got thrown into a tree by Mjolnir. “Hammer.”

I watched as they continued to fight, letting out a yawn. Finally, Captain America showed up. “That’s enough!” He yelled. “Now, I don’t know what you plan on doing here.”

I glanced between the trio, worriedly. “I’ve come here to put an end to Loki’s schemes!” Thor exclaimed. I sighed.

“Then prove it! Put down the hammer.”

“Uhm! Yeah, no! Bad call! He loves his hammer.” Tony warned. 

“I’d listen to him if I were-” And then Thor knocks Tony back. I winced before quickly ducking as Thor slammed his hammer down onto Steve’s sheild, creating a loud boom that sent shockwaves crashing through the forest. I pressed against the tree I was leaning against, which was now lying on the ground. I quickly stood up. I surprisingly didn’t have many scratches on my body. 

I wheezed as I walked to the trio. “Guys- I tried to tell you- Thor’s a God for a reason-” I mumbled.

Steve glanced at me. “Are we done here?”

I nodded. “Yup. I’ll go get Loki.” 

“Ah, ah.” I glared at Tony. 

“Uh, yeah, yeah. I know him better than any of you do right now, even Thor.” I said. 

“No, you don’t.” Tony argued. I rolled my eyes. 

“We’ll see about that.”

I ran up the hill to Loki. “Loki!” I yelled, rushing to him and grabbing his arm. He jolted away from me. 

I narrowed my eyes. “Dude, don’t.” He pulled out of my grasp. I groaned. “Don’t make this hard.” 

I pulled him up. He towered over me, and it took all my strength to not fangirl out. But this wasn’t Tom Hiddleston, this was Loki, who was pretty damn evil right now.

I dragged him towards the group, and shoved him harshly to Tony. “How did yo-”

“Ah, ah, ah! Don’t question my abilities.” I smirked. 

Tony frowned.

Pretty soon we were back on the Quinjet and headed right to the Helicarrier.

“So, how exactly did you know all of this was going to happen?” Steve asked.  I smiled. “I guess you’ll just have to find out when we get to the Helicarrier. I can’t tell you unless all of us are there.” 

“All of us?”

I shrugged. “Tony Stark, otherwise known as Iron Man. Check, we have him. Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America, you’re right there. Natasha Romanoff, or Black Widow. She’s right there. Thor Odinson, the God of Thunder, yep, he’s there,” I pointed to Thor. “All we need is Clint Barton or Hawkeye, and Dr.Bruce Banner, alias, the Hulk.” 

Everyone looked at me shocked. Maybe I shouldn’t have spilt all that information. “How do you know us all?” Tony asked.

“Again, I’ll explain it after we get everyone back. Well, not Clint, cause he’s brainwashed but...” I whispered the last part, whilst glaring at Loki. He obviously heard me, because he smirked. It honestly freaked me out so freaking much. 

I looked back out the window, ignoring the creeped-out glances I received from almost everyone onboard.

Soon enough, we had landed on the Helicarrier and I was walking into the large room with all the computers and shit. I looked around awkwardly, as Loki’s voice boomed through the speakers before turning around. I looked at the people working the computers as Loki’s voice stops. I hopped in a chair and looked around. 

“He really grows on you doesn’t he?” Bruce asks. I winced. 

“Loki’s gonna drag this out.” Steve paused, and looked to Thor. “Thor. What’s his play?” I stopped paying attention and ended up yawning by the time Bruce started talking. 

I looked over my shoulder, waiting for Tony to come through the door. I grumbled, leaning back in the chair. 

I tuned out, and stood up, wandering aimlessly around the room and disturbing the workers. I leaned over a few shoulders, and then skipped around the room. 

When I came back, the Avengers were still preoccupied. I leaned against the wall again. Then, Nick Fury walked in and I stiffened. Ever since Captain Marvel, I couldn’t get over his eyepatch. I looked away as he glanced to me. 

“Why’s there a kid in here?” He asked.

“She’s a friend.”

Fury glared at Tony. “She’s a teenager.”

Tony shrugged. “So?”

Nick quickly dismissed it, and I followed Bruce and Tony to “help”.

On the way there, I squeezed between them. “Isn’t this fun?” I asked. Tony shook his head. 

“The earth is in danger. So, no.”

I frowned. “You’re no fun.” I looked up to Bruce. “Hi! I’m [Y/n].”

Bruce tensed. “Uh, hi.” He looked away. “Why are you here again?”

I looked towards Stark. “Tony’s my supervisor.” I smirked. 

“No, I’m not.”

I shrugged. “Pepper found me, but she’s not here, so it’s you!”

Tony sighed in annoyance. “Ugh, you have no limits.”

“Nope!”

I laughed as we entered the lab-like room that the blueberry scene took place. I stood around for a while, until my favorite scene came. 

“Blueberry?” I raced over plucking one from the bag and stuffing it in my mouth. I hadn't eaten at all in the past day...

I ignored the rest, even the fight. It was almost like they didn’t care I was standing there. I was completely okay with everything, up until my sudden impulse interrupted Tony and Bruce. 

“Do you guys know anything about inter-dimensional travel?” I blurted out.

The pair eyed each other, before looking back at me. “Well...I guess I’m telling you now...dammit!”

I growled to myself. 

“I’ll tell the others later...it just would have been better to tell everyone at once...I’ll make sure to.”

Tony looked at me, confused.

“Do you wanna know how I know all about you guys?” I asked. I took a deep breath. “Well...I think I travelled dimensions.”

Bruce stared at me wide eyed. “What do you mean?”

“The me from this dimension lured me onto a roof, and I thought she was trying to kill me, because she pushed me off...I should have died. But, instead, I woke up on the side of the street in front of Stark Tower, a fictional building.” I looked down. 

Bruce looked to Tony, worried. “Where I come from, the Avengers were created by an awesome dude named Stan Lee. He created comics...and they turned into movies. And everything that has happened so far, aside from me, has happened in the first Avengers movie. I know everything there is to know about the Avengers. In my world, you aren’t real, and the year is 2019...4 Avengers movies came out. Aside from the individual movies for the superheroes.”

Both scientists were staring, wide eyed. I gasped. “Oh no, did I break you?!” I asked.

“You can’t seriously expect us to-” 

I frowned. I pulled out my phone from my back pocket. “This is an iPhone XR. It came out in 2019.” I opened the phone and searched Marvel. I showed everything that came up, including the movies. The pair looked completely astonished.

“But-how?” Bruce asked. I sighed. 

“I was hoping you guys could help. That’s why I came...plus, I figured I could help you.” I shrugged. 

Tony looked to Bruce, then back at me. “We’ll help you.”

————

Just ask, and I’ll tag you in the next update! :D

Sorry if this update was a bit rushed. I was irking on low battery and under a time-limit. The next one will be more detailed!

Tags:

@amillionworlds

@ewitsceleste

@ximaginx

[writeradamanteve]

Sneak Peek: Celestial Bodies, Chapter 2

(image source: scifiaddicts.com)

The hiss of the bridge door opening had Jughead smiling even before he turned to greet Betty’s arrival. “Morning all!” 

FP and Jellybean responded with preoccupied tones.

Hotdog followed closely at her heels. He’d been doing that a lot, lately—escorting Betty around the ship whenever she had to be alone. Jughead couldn’t help but wonder if Hotdog was sensing a shift in him, of the hypervigilance he was desperately trying to curtail for everyone’s sanity.

Hotdog demanded his pats from FP and Jughead before settling himself beside Jellybean.

Betty came over to greet Jughead with a quick peck on the lips. “Good morning, Captain.”

“You’re exceptionally chipper today.”

Her shrug looked more like an attempt to seem nonchalant, but Jughead could see the bounce in her step as she settled into her station. “Am I? I guess I’m excited for a change in routing after weeks of just engineering stuff. I miss being out in the field, even if it’s just for supplies.”

Jughead tried not to let his anxiety overcome him. She was right. It was just supplies, but they all knew Thwayle wasn’t like going to the Goblin Fair. When they picked up in Thwayle, they went armed.

Not that they’d ever had an encounter, themselves. For the most part, the rule was that if everyone stayed in their lanes, which meant not asking any stupid questions, everything would be fine, but nobody left their guns at home. They’d also “heard” that encounters had occurred, but since they couldn’t ask...

The planet’s cluster of moons hosted a collective planetary marketplace, less for tourists and more for inter-galactic 4th Quadranters. The merchants sold supplies, ship parts, weapons, and perhaps the occasional contraband. How the merchants acquired their inventory was a question for the authorities, but the Thwaylian Republic who allowed these merchants to sell their wares on their network took loud pride in the “legality” of their trade.  

Jughead wondered if the Republic actually believed that or they were crowing loud enough to drown out the sound of their complicity in space piracy. 

A chuckle rippled from FP’s station. “I knew it. You’re sick of us.”

Betty made a face. “No. That’s not what I said, dad.”

FP grinned but didn’t argue any further. 

Jughead met eyes with him briefly and FP’s grin withered almost immediately. 

Jughead didn’t even realize he was making any sort of face that could sour FP’s otherwise light mood. “We’ll be in and out, quick as possible. We’ve never had problems before so this should go smoothly, too.”

Betty nodded. “I’ve also been dying for Zayna’s Interstellar Pierogies. Like, pierogies aren’t allowed to be that good so far out in the universe, but they are.”

Jellybean’s eyes brightened with excitement. “You read my mind, sis! I’m putting in an order for 3 dozen of them right now!”

Jughead tried not to flinch. Taking that trip from their suppliers to the deli was more time than he’d care to spend on the planetary system. “That’s kind of on the other side of the moon…”

Betty shot him a pleading look. That wide-eyed, hopeful look of a pregnant woman who knows that he could never say no to her when she looked at him that way. “This is Level 10 prenancy craving, Juggie. I’m not even kidding.”

Shit. He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine, but it’s a pick up and go. Order everything ahead. I don’t want to stay any longer than we should.”

Betty grinned and Jellybean pumped her fist in the air. Jughead had to exchange looks with FP again.

This time FP was laughing to himself. “You tell ‘em, tough guy.”

Jughead glared at him and resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at his father.

“We’ll be in and out of Thwayle before you know it,” Betty said, and then she started humming a tuneless tune. 

It was, Jughead knew, the sound of his pregnant wife getting what she wanted from him.

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

Author’s note: Almost there, guys.  If you’re still interested...

[lost-stargazer-girl]

|| A Step at a Time||

Fandom: Haikyuu

Pairing: eventual!OCxOikawa

Word Count for this Chapter: 2054

*Author’s note and other chapters listed at the end*

Chapter 3: Shadow’s Mark

She is always hiding. Not in the conventional sense of course, though many often ponder what “conventional” could mean in this day and age where the impossible can become reality. The girl learns the importance of masks, their necessity for her survival in a world where many often see through children instead of at them and their suffering. She, in turn, allows herself to melt into the background and observe. “Children are like sponges,” as the saying goes. The girl embraces this, lives by it, and becomes it. 

Babies, the girl learns, are the only true things in the world. They express themselves freely, never hesitating to scream and cry or laugh and smile. She envies them. The girl, Akane, doesn’t remember ever being that carefree. Was there a time when she didn’t have to worry about appearances? Expectations? She doesn’t remember and so, she moves on.

Children, Akane muses, are brats. Most don’t know how to control or identify their emotions. Well, most. Akane is five when she witnesses a child having a tantrum in the toy section of her grocery store. She is shopping for her family while her parents are preoccupied at work. She’s never been in the toy section and doesn’t really see the appeal, to be completely honest. She would rather spend that money on food and snacks, her parents never let her have snacks or candy like most kids get. 

Teenagers, she grates within her mind, are some of the most arrogant and aggravating stains in the world. Akane is playing tag in the park with the olive-eyed boy, Hajime, when two pretentious teenagers trip her to the floor as she is running. “Oh?” one of the boys mockingly muse, “the little princess tripped! Her poor appearance is ruined now!” The boys start to laugh at her as she rises from the ground and dusts herself off. She gazes at them for a moment, long enough for them to stop laughing and smirk at her as their eyebrows raise in a challenge. Akane only flashes blindingly white teeth in a disarming smile as she kicks both of the boys in their jewels and walks away as the boys crash to the ground to groan and yell. She has better things to do, she thought, as she catches a glimpse of brown, spiky hair running toward her. 

Adults, young and old, are confusing. So many say one thing but do another, she notes. With a steady crimson gaze, Akane watches the various behaviors of those in the park. Hajime is not there to play with her but that’s okay, she can keep herself busy. Adults are more controlled, she realizes. But that makes their tells all the more obvious to her. She observes smiles and eyes and eyebrows and the entire facial and body expressions of each and every adult she could in the park. She discerns fake smiles from real smiles, a flash of joy in the eyes to the flash of anger, and so on until she is able to completely read whoever she sees. It’ll come in handy for her, she knows. 

… 

Oikawa Tooru feels annoyance buzz through him as if it were a second skin. While he still flounces through the halls with his million dollar smile and greets his fangirls with the usual amount of enthusiasm and encouragement, he boils from within. There are very few things that Oikawa lets bother him to this extent, and this situation is a big one.  

As he bounds to his homeroom class, Oikawa passes by Iwa-chan. “IWA-CHAN,” he pouts, “why didn’t you wait for me today so we could walk to school like we usually do? Where were you at practice yesterday and this morning? You know as my vice-captain, now that our third years are graduating, we need to show our dedication to the sport and be good role models to our kohai!” The brunette finishes his rant and takes a deep breath. He places his hands on his hips and stares imploringly at his best friend, the source of his current distress. 

Iwa-chan only stares at Oikawa with a deathly calm stare. “Get out of my way,” he grunts and walks past the gaping brunette, making sure to hit Oikawa’s shoulder with his own. The setter could only stare after his best friend’s back in complete confusion. He hadn’t done anything to evoke such a response from Iwa-chan. The olive-eyed boy may have a gruff and rude manner towards him, but he’s never been dismissive. Iwa-chan knows Oikawa hates nothing more, not even Kageyama or Ushiwaka, than to be dismissed. 

Clenching his hands into fists, Oikawa struts off to his homeroom. Fine, he thinks bitterly, if Iwa-chan wants to be that way, then so be it. His irritation had not lessened throughout the day, only increasing with the rumors of that girl still going around and the absence of his best friend. 

The last bell of the day rang. Oikawa stays in his seat until the rest of his class leaves, waving and shouting words of farewell to the appropriate people. With the classroom now empty, the setter allows himself a sigh of aggravation as he slumps in his seat and crosses his arms irritably. He needs to get a grip before practice. As captain and the “goofball” of the Seijou volleyball club, he needs to be able to maintain his cheerful attitude. Oikawa takes a few deep breaths before slapping his face with his hands and smiles. He collects his items and bounds off for the changing rooms. 

… 

Akane Kagami grimaces slightly at the broad back of one Iwaizumi Hajime. She trails after him on her crutches slowly, knowing he would notice if she tries to escape. The view of the gym becomes closer and closer, along with Kagami's growing anxiety. The black haired girl timidly taps her friend's back, "Haji, do I really have to come? I can just wait for you at the bench by the entrance gate, it's fine with me." The girl is frantically attempting to convince the male that this whole event is completely. 

Hajime stops and turns to Kagami, he regards her for a moment before quirking up an unimpressed brow, "You and I both know I'm not dragging you to my practice just because it's convenient. I would've just walked you home and walked back here, it doesn't bother me one bit. But the thing between you and Shittykawa has got to stop." Kagami watches as he turns back around and resumes striding towards the gym. It's a little funny how much more ominous the building becomes to her. "And plus," he continues gruffly, "I promised to take care of you, I'm not gonna let my asshole of a best friend bully and demean you. You do enough of that to yourself anyway." 

The girls stops abruptly and stares after Hajime as he continues on his way to the gym, still processing his words. She squeaks suddenly before blushing a bright shade of crimson, nearly matching her intense eye color, and stumbles off to catch up to the boy as best she could on crutches. Hajime stops walking when he reaches the entrance door of the gym, having already changed before meeting up with the red eyed girl, and waits for Kagami to catch up. She does so, huffing irritably up at him. 

“Can you walk without those yet,” he questions, eyes going towards the instruments of pain holding her up. “It won’t really be a problem, but I don’t want you to slip on the gym floors.”

Kagami rolls her eyes and hisses, “I told you I can walk without them for short distances, you just won’t let me.” Crutches are a pain, especially when one doesn’t fix them by adding cushions and such like Kagami. She hates her crutches in every way possible, even if they do help with her upper body strength. She likes being able to help herself, having others do things for her is a blow to her pride. Kagami only relies on herself and a very small amount of people, including Hajime. 

Flashes of a small room filled with shadows and a small, lonely girl looking in a mirror make her wince. Kagami shakes her head desperately to ward the images from her mind as a callused hand gently grabs her scarred one and squeezes in reassurance. Her eyes shoot up to meet the steady ones of Hajime. She idly notices how a small beam of sunlight manages to shine in his eyes for a split second before he blinks at the sudden brightness. It is only for a second, but Kagami is left in awe at the kaleidoscope of colors the olive eyes hold. Shades of forest, mint, chocolate, and gold are revealed in that split second and leaves her breathless. She squeezes back and drops his hand, gesturing towards the door with a swipe of her palm and a determined gaze. Hajime grins wickedly at her before confidently pushing the gym door.

The bright lights of the gym blind Kagami for a moment, causing the girl to blink rapidly before placing both crutches in one hand and limping inside. She has her black gym shoes with gold highlights on, she rarely ever has a chance to use them since moving back to Miyagi from Tokyo. The nostalgic sounds of volleyballs being spiked and shoes squeaking on the gym floors hit Kagami and causes a smile to light up her normally disinterested features. As Hajime enters before her, calls of his family name begin to ring out in greeting along with the sounds of volleyball practice. However, as she steps inside, the sounds stop. 

Kagami’s palms begin to shake as her nerves get the better of her. While she’s a fairly confident person now compared to her childhood years, she still has problems being the center of so many gazes. Especially when those gazes belong to giants that could possibly cause her arms to break off if she tries receiving their spikes. Quickly scanning the boys with a practiced eye, the girl shakes off her distress and bows in front of them with her hands crossed on her legs respectfully. “Pardon the intrusion,” she exclaims. “Please continue your practice and disregard my presence!” Silence reigns after her introduction as Kagami continues to bow. 

“Oi,” Kagami glances up as she hears Hajime irritably huff at the gawking boys. “Stop slacking off and get to work already, we’ve got to be ready for the Inter-High in couple of months and for any incoming first years!” The girls releases a sigh of relief as the comforting sound of practice resumes around her, that was pretty awkward. She straightens and sends a small smile towards Hajime as the boys turns to look at her from his protective stance a few steps in front of the girl. He grins back in response and sends her a thumbs up. 

“Well, well, well, Iwa-chan,” a silken voice purrs behind Hajime. “You’re not one to bring girls to practice, what a surprise.” Kagami watches in fascination as irritation extinguishes the fondness in her friend’s eyes and a vein begins to show its appearance. She glances down and yeup, Hajime’s hands are clenched so harshly that his fists have whitened. “Well, Iwa-chan? Aren’t ya going to introduce me to your girl-- ITAI!~” Hajime whirls so fast that the other boy has no time to dodge the fist coming his way. “Mean, Iwa-chan,” the boy exclaims as he grips his head soothingly. The boy, tears building in his eyes, sniffs pretentiously at Hajime before tilting his head slightly to look at the girl. Kagami, already knowing who the boy is, stiffens in response and waits for it. It takes a second for Oikawa Tooru to realize just who he is gazing at, but Kagami sees the shine of recognition gradually enter his eyes. Along with the rage. “What is this,” he seethes, whirling towards Hajime with flashing eyes and a gritted smile. 

Kagami winces at both the vehement tone and the sound of her friend’s fist finding its home on the top of Oikawa-senpai’s head. “This,” Hajime responds with matching venom, digging his knuckles more harshly into the brunette’s head as if he could smash manners into it, “is Akane Kagami, Shittykawa. A close childhood friend of mine, so you better damn well treat her nicely.”

*Author’s Note*

AHHHHH~ Sorry this chapter took so long to be posted *prayer hands* I hope you guys enjoy reading it as it is my longest chapter yet. Some of it may seem like it’s pretty unnecessary but I thought they were pretty relevant to knowing more about Kagami’s character hehe!

P.S. Can y’all let me know if I’m linking the chapter’s right? It looks right but idk *shrugging motion*

~ Prologue ~ Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~

[pamphletstoinspire]

Book Of Genesis - From The Latin Vulgate - Chapter 15

INTRODUCTION.

The Hebrews now entitle all the Five Books of Moses, from the initial words, which originally were written like one continued word or verse; but the Sept. have preferred to give the titles the most memorable occurrences of each work. On this occasion, the Creation of all things out of nothing, strikes us with peculiar force. We find a refutation of all the heathenish mythology, and of the world’s eternity, which Aristotle endeavoured to establish. We behold the short reign of innocence, and the origin of sin and misery, the dispersion of nations, and the providence of God watching over his chosen people, till the death of Joseph, about the year 2369 (Usher) 2399 (Sal. and Tirin) B.C. 1631. We shall witness the same care in the other Books of Scripture, and adore his wisdom and goodness in preserving to himself faithful witnesses, and a true Holy Catholic Church, in all ages, even when the greatest corruption seemed to overspread the land. H.

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This Book is so called from its treating of the Generation, that is, of the Creation and the beginning of the world. The Hebrews call it Bereshith, from the word with which it begins. It contains not only the History of the Creation of the World, but also an account of its progress during the space of 2369 years, that is, until the death of Joseph.

The additional Notes in this Edition of the New Testament will be marked with the letter A. Such as are taken from various Interpreters and Commentators, will be marked as in the Old Testament. B. Bristow, C. Calmet, Ch. Challoner, D. Du Hamel, E. Estius, J. Jansenius, M. Menochius, Po. Polus, P. Pastorini, T. Tirinus, V. Bible de Vence, W. Worthington, Wi. Witham. — The names of other authors, who may be occasionally consulted, will be given at full length.

Verses are in English and Latin. HAYDOCK CATHOLIC BIBLE COMMENTARY

This Catholic commentary on the Old Testament, following the Douay-Rheims Bible text, was originally compiled by Catholic priest and biblical scholar Rev. George Leo Haydock (1774-1849). This transcription is based on Haydock’s notes as they appear in the 1859 edition of Haydock’s Catholic Family Bible and Commentary printed by Edward Dunigan and Brother, New York, New York.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

Changes made to the original text for this transcription include the following:

Greek letters. The original text sometimes includes Greek expressions spelled out in Greek letters. In this transcription, those expressions have been transliterated from Greek letters to English letters, put in italics, and underlined. The following substitution scheme has been used: A for Alpha; B for Beta; G for Gamma; D for Delta; E for Epsilon; Z for Zeta; E for Eta; Th for Theta; I for Iota; K for Kappa; L for Lamda; M for Mu; N for Nu; X for Xi; O for Omicron; P for Pi; R for Rho; S for Sigma; T for Tau; U for Upsilon; Ph for Phi; Ch for Chi; Ps for Psi; O for Omega. For example, where the name, Jesus, is spelled out in the original text in Greek letters, Iota-eta-sigma-omicron-upsilon-sigma, it is transliterated in this transcription as, Iesous. Greek diacritical marks have not been represented in this transcription.

Footnotes. The original text indicates footnotes with special characters, including the astrisk (*) and printers’ marks, such as the dagger mark, the double dagger mark, the section mark, the parallels mark, and the paragraph mark. In this transcription all these special characters have been replaced by numbers in square brackets, such as [1], [2], [3], etc.

Accent marks. The original text contains some English letters represented with accent marks. In this transcription, those letters have been rendered in this transcription without their accent marks.

Other special characters.

Solid horizontal lines of various lengths that appear in the original text have been represented as a series of consecutive hyphens of approximately the same length, such as .

Ligatures, single characters containing two letters united, in the original text in some Latin expressions have been represented in this transcription as separate letters. The ligature formed by uniting A and E is represented as Ae, that of a and e as ae, that of O and E as Oe, and that of o and e as oe.

Monetary sums in the original text represented with a preceding British pound sterling symbol (a stylized L, transected by a short horizontal line) are represented in this transcription with a following pound symbol, l.

The half symbol (½) and three-quarters symbol (¾) in the original text have been represented in this transcription with their decimal equivalent, (.5) and (.75) respectively.

Unreadable text. Places where the transcriber’s copy of the original text is unreadable have been indicated in this transcription by an empty set of square brackets, [].

Chapter 15

God promiseth seed to Abram. His faith, sacrifice and vision.

[1] Now when these things were done, the word of the Lord came to Abram by a vision, saying: Fear not, Abram, I am thy protector, and thy reward exceeding great. His itaque transactis, factus est sermo Domini ad Abram per visionem dicens : Noli timere, Abram : ego protector tuus sum, et merces tua magna nimis.

[2] And Abram said: Lord God, what wilt thou give me? I shall go without children: and the son of the steward of my house is this Damascus Eliezer. Dixitque Abram : Domine Deus, quid dabis mihi? ego vadam absque liberis, et filius procuratoris domus meae iste Damascus Eliezer.

[3] And Abram added: But to me thou hast not given seed: and lo my servant, born in my house, shall be my heir. Addiditque Abram : Mihi autem non dedisti semen, et ecce vernaculus meus, haeres meus erit.

[4] And immediately the word of the Lord came to him, saying: He shall not be thy heir: but he that shall come out of thy bowels, him shalt thou have for thy heir. Statimque sermo Domini factus est ad eum, dicens : Non erit hic haeres tuus, sed qui egredietur de utero tuo, ipsum habebis haeredem.

[5] And he brought him forth abroad, and said to him: Look up to heaven and number the stars, if thou canst. And he said to him: So shall thy seed be. Eduxitque eum foras, et ait illi : Suscipe caelum, et numera stellas, si potes. Et dixit ei : Sic erit semen tuum.

[6] Abram believed God, and it was reputed to him unto justice. Credidit Abram Deo, et reputatum est illi ad justitiam.

[7] And he said to him: I am the Lord who brought thee out from Ur of the Chaldees, to give thee this land, and that thou mightest possess it. Dixitque ad eum : Ego Dominus qui eduxi te de Ur Chaldaeorum ut darem tibi terram istam, et possideres eam.

[8] But he said: Lord God, whereby may I know that I shall possess it? At ille ait : Domine Deus, unde scire possum quod possessurus sim eam?

[9] And the Lord answered, and said: Take me a cow of three years old, and a she goat of three years, and a ram of three years, a turtle also, and a pigeon. Et respondens Dominus : Sume, inquit, mihi vaccam trienem, et capram trimam, et arietem annorum trium, turturem quoque et columbam.

[10] And he took all these, and divided them in the midst, and laid the two pieces of each one against the other; but the birds he divided not. Qui tollens universa haec, divisit ea per medium, et utrasque partes contra se altrinsecus posuit; aves autem non divisit.

[11] And the fowls came down upon the carcasses, and Abram drove them away. Descenderuntque volucres super cadavera, et abigebat eas Abram.

[12] And when the sun was setting, a deep sleep fell upon Abram, and a great and darksome horror seized upon him. Cumque sol occumberet, sopor irruit super Abram, et horror magnus et tenebrosus invasit eum.

[13] And it was said unto him: Know thou beforehand that thy seed shall be a stranger in a land not their own, and they shall bring them under bondage, and afflict them four hundred years. Dictumque est ad eum : Scito praenoscens quod peregrinum futurum sit semen tuum in terra non sua, et subjicient eos servituti, et affligent quadringentis annis.

[14] But I will judge the nation which they shall serve, and after this they shall come out with great substance. Verumtamen gentem, cui servituri sunt, ego judicabo : et post haec egredientur cum magna substantia.

[15] And thou shalt go to thy fathers in peace, and be buried in a good old age. Tu autem ibis ad patres tuos in pace, sepultus in senectute bona.

[16] But in the fourth generation they shall return hither: for as yet the iniquities of the Amorrhites are not at the full until this present time. Generatione autem quarta revertentur huc : necdum enim completae sunt iniquitates Amorrhaeorum usque ad praesens tempus.

[17] And when the sun was set, there arose a dark mist, and there appeared a smoking furnace and a lamp of fire passing between those divisions. Cum ergo occubuisset sol, facta est caligo tenebrosa, et apparuit clibanus fumans, et lampas ignis transiens inter divisiones illas.

[18] That day God made a covenant with Abram, saying: To thy seed will I give this land, from the river of Egypt even to the great river Euphrates. In illo die pepigit Dominus foedus cum Abram, dicens : Semini tuo dabo terram hanc a fluvio Aegypti usque ad fluvium magnum Euphraten,

[19] The Cineans and Cenezites, the Cedmonites, Cinaeos, et Cenezaeos, Cedmonaeos,

[20] And the Hethites, and the Pherezites, the Raphaim also, et Hethaeos, et Pherezaeos, Raphaim quoque,

[21] And the Amorrhites, and the Chanaanites, and the Gergesites, and the Jebusites. et Amorrhaeos, et Chananaeos, et Gergesaeos, et Jebusaeos.

Commentary:

Ver. 1. Fear not. He might naturally be under some apprehensions, lest the four kings should attempt to be revenged upon him. --- Reward, since thou hast so generously despised earthly riches. H. --- Abram was not asleep, but saw a vision of exterior objects. v. 5.

Ver. 2. I shall go. To what purpose should I heap up riches, since I have no son to inherit them? Abram knew that God had promised him a numerous posterity; but he was not apprized how this was to be verified, and whether he was to adopt some other for his son and heir. Therefore, he asks modestly, how he out to understand the promise. --- And the son, &c. Heb. is differently rendered, "and the steward of my house, this Eliezer of Damascus." We know not whether Eliezer or Damascus be the proper name. The Sept. have "the son of Mesech, my handmaid, this Eliezer of Damascus." Most people suppose, that Damascus was the son of Eliezer, the steward. The sentence is left unfinished, and must be supplied from the following verse, shall be my heir. The son of the steward, filius procurationis, may mean the steward himself, as the son of perdition denotes the person lost. C.

Ver. 6. Reputed by God, who cannot judge wrong; so that Abram increased in justice by this act of faith, believing that his wife, now advanced in years, would have a child; from whom others should spring, more numerous than the stars of heaven. H. --- This faith was accompanied and followed by many other acts of virtue. S. Jam. ii. 22. W.

Ver. 8. Whereby, &c. Thus the blessed Virgin asked, how shall this be done? Lu. i. 34. without the smallest degree of unbelief. Abram wished to know, by what signs he should be declared the lawful owner of the land. H.

Ver. 9. Three years, when these animals have obtained a perfect age.

Ver. 12. A deep sleep, or ecstasy, like that of Adam. G. ii. 21, wherein God revealed to him the oppression of his posterity in Egypt, which filled him with such horror (M.) as we experience when something frightful comes upon us suddenly in the dark. This darkness represents the dismal situation of Joseph, confined in a dungeon; and of the Hebrews condemned to hard labour, in making bricks, and obliged to hide their male children, for fear of their being discovered, and slain. Before these unhappy days commenced, the posterity of Abram were exposed to great oppression among the Chanaanites, nor could they in any sense be said to possess the land of promise, for above 400 years after this prophetic sleep. H.

Ver. 13. Strangers, and under bondage, &c. This prediction may be dated from the persecution of Isaac by Ismael, A. 2112, till the Jews left Egypt, 2513. In Exodus xii. and S. Paul, 430 years are mentioned; but they probably began when Abram went first into Egypt, 2084. Nicholas Abram and Tournemine say, the Hebrews remained in Egypt full 430 years. from the captivity of Joseph; and reject the addition of the Sept. which adds, "they and their fathers dwelt in Egypt, and in Chanaan." On these points, we may expect to find chronologists at variance.

Ver. 14. Judge and punish the Egyptians, overwhelming them in the Red sea, &c. H.

Ver. 16. Fourth, &c. after the 400 years are finished; during which period of time, God was pleased to bear with those wicked nations; whose iniquity chiefly consisted in idolatry, oppression of the poor and strangers, forbidden marriages of kindred, and abominable lusts. Levit. xviii. Deut. vi. and xii. M.

Ver. 17. A lamp, or symbol of the Divinity, passing, as Abram also did, between the divided beasts, to ratify the covenant. See Jer. xxxiv. 18.

Ver. 18. Of Egypt, a branch of the Nile, not far from Pelusium. This was to be the southern limit, and the Euphrates the northern; the two other boundaries are given, Num. xxxiv. --- Perhaps Solomon's empire extended so far. At least, the Jews would have enjoyed these territories, if they had been faithful. M.

Ver. 19. Cineans, in Arabia, of which nation was Jethro. They were permitted to dwell in the tribe of Juda, and served the Hebrews. --- Cenezites, who probably inhabited the mountains of Juda. --- Cedmonites, or eastern people, as their name shews. Cadmus was of this nation, of the race of the Heveans, dwelling in the environs of mount Hermon, whence his wife was called Hermione. He was, perhaps, one of those who fled at the approach of Josue; and was said to have sowed dragons' teeth, to people his city of Thebes in Beotia, from an allusion to the name of the Hevites, which signifies serpents. C. --- The eleven nations here mentioned were not all subdued; on account of the sins of the Hebrews. M.

[darker-than-darkstorm]

Stranger still, this comic was a spinoff of the Atari Force mini-comics that were given away as pack-ins with certain Atari 2600 games: Defender, Berserk, Star Raiders, Phoenix, and Galaxian, in that order from issue #1 to #5, each issue named for their respective pack-in game.

The overarching plot was that in the in the far-off future year of 2005, after a seven-year-long drought (believed to be caused by two "death bombs" that had been dropped during a world war in 1998) had killed a large portion of the worlds population through dehydration and starvation, the Advanced Technology And Research Institute (A.T.A.R.I., yes they're very clever) assembled a multinational team of heroes to pilot the inter-dimensional ship Scanner One to find a new home for humanity on a parallel Earth.

The team was Martin Champion (mission commander, blond-haired blue-eyed man from an unspecified part of the USA), Dr. Lydia Perez (pilot and executive officer, vaguely implied to be Hispanic, and Champion's love interest),  Dr. Lucas Orion (medical officer, a black man from Detroit), Mohandas Singh (engineering officer, from India, but went to school in England), and Li-San O'Rourke (security and tactical officer, grew up in Ireland with a Chinese mother). Scanner One's computer, the Atari 8000 (named for the real-life Atari 800 computer), was so advanced that they only needed five people to pilot it.

Oh, and Hukka, a little alien critter resembling a cute fish-faced monkey named for the sound it makes, and whose intelligence level is much greater than it appears at first glance, joins the team in Issue 3. (Issue 3 goes on to show that the Hukka are a race alien scientists, and Issue 5 reveals he can speak more complex sentences, but in a language that none of the other characters understand)

There's a surprising number of extremely long flashbacks for such a short comic series, but each issue was nearly 50 pages long, so they had room. The story really wanted you to get to know the characters. Issues 1 and 2 are about how the team is formed, with long flashbacks to all five characters' backstories, all while a black-clad intruder easily breaks into the Institute and into the room where Scanner One is kept under the strictest security.

The mission proper is issues 3 and 5, with two overarching plot threads: finding a new home for humanity and defeating the Dark Destroyer, a planet-sized tentacled thing that lives in the void between universes and feeds on pain, anguish, and despair. Issue 4 is a side-story only tangentially related to the others.

Despite all the talk of "alternate Earths" in issues 1 and 2, all the planets they find are entirely alien worlds in other galaxies; they never visit any alternate versions of Earth at all. In the end, they find a new home for humanity, which they dub New Earth (despite, again, not actually being a parallel Earth at all).

Each issue was named for the game it was packed with, but how much they actually used the games' plots varied. (Issue 3 was the closest to its respective game, finding half the crew stumbling across the aliens from Star Raiders — here sent by the Dark Destroyer to kill all life across all universes — and the other half discovering the Star Raider warship itself to fight them, but ultimately it's the three crew members not piloting the Star Raider — four, including Hukka — who save the day. Issue 2 has one unnamed character announce a "Berzerk Situation" protocol, and the phrase "Intruder Alert!" from the Berzerk arcade game. Issue 4 features a one-shot character piloting a ship called the Phoenix. Issues 1 and 5 don't seem to have any references to their respective games, Defender and Galaxian, other than chapter titles)

Edit: I've since tracked down what I thought was a seperate Atari Force minicomic included as an insert in some of the main DC comics titles of the day (DC Comics Presents #53 and The New Teen Titans #27). It's called Code Name: Liberator, and it's panel-for-panel exactly the same as Issue 4 of the minicomics, except the ship is called the Liberator instead of the Phoenix. More than that, I'm pretty sure the Liberator version was first, because the aliens, the story, and the ship are all from the little-known Atari arcade game Liberator and bear very little resemblance to anything in Phoenix.

I've been sitting here re-reading the original mini-comics on the Atari Age website while I've been typing this, that's how I know so much detail. My memory for useless 1970s and 1980s trivia is good, but not that good. In fact, I'm not sure I read Issue 5 before, since I only owned the first four games back in the day.

Which finally brings me back to the image in this post:

The full-sized Atari Force comics were set twenty-five years after the mini-comics, in the year 2030, featuring an aging Martin Champion (that's him in the background on the right, not looking much older than he did in the earlier comics) leading an all new team of aliens, including Christopher Champion (aka Tempest, Martin and Lydia's son) and Erin O'Rourke-Singh (aka Dart, Mohandas and Li-San's daughter). Martin formed this new team because thinks that the Dark Destroyer has returned, and, while nobody really believes him, everyone on New Earth is humoring him because he found New Earth in the first place. (Spoiler: the Dark Destroyer has indeed returned) None of the original characters other than Martin ever appeared as far as I'm aware.

The series lasted 20 issues, or almost two years. I never read the whole thing (just scattered bits here and there — they're harder to find online than the mini-comics), so I'm not sure if it ever reached a narrative ending or was just canceled mid-story. I'm betting on the latter.

Dang, I went down a rabbit hole tonight. I've been re-reading the comics and typing up this post for a couple of hours now. :D I hope somebody enjoyed reading it.

[dw-writes]

Might Long Fall [12]

Hey everyone! I apologize for this chapter being late!! :D I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter [1] || Chapter [2] || Chapter [3] || Chapter [4] || Chapter [5] || Chapter [6] || Chapter [7] || Chapter [8] || Chapter [9] || Chapter [10] ||  A Dabi Chapter || Chapter [11] || Chapter [12] || Chapter [13] || Chapter [14] || Chapter [15] || Snow Day Request || Chapter [16] || Chapter [17] || Chapter [18] || Chapter [19] || Chapter [20] || First Burn || Chapter [21] || Chapter [22] || Chapter [23] || Chapter [24] || Chapter [25] || Chapter [26] || Chapter [27] || Chapter [28] || Chapter [29] || Chapter [30] || Chapter [31] || Chapter [32]

Toga Himiko drummed her nails on the table in front of her. It was one thing she was starting to enjoy the most in playing her game with you. The manicures, the make-up, doing her hair. She didn’t really get to do that with the League of Villains. She always had to hide, hide, hide. She lifted her hand and stared at her nails. “Maybe I’ll do pink next,” she said with a hum.

“Maybe you could get the hell out of that office,” Dabi snapped. He sat down the bar from her, leaning against the lip of it, staring hard at the blonde girl. She ignored him. “What are you doing there anyway?” he asked.

“I’m making friends,” Toga answered. She tapped her fingers against her chin with a grin. “I like that accountant. Cute as a button. I bet if I work a little harder, I’ll be able to take them home,” she sang.

Dabi was on his feet and crossing the room before her last note fell. Toga rose from her seat.

Kurogiri released a long suffering sigh and set down the glass he was cleaning. “If you are going to fight, there are ground rules,” he stated. He eyed Toga as she unsheathed a knife from under her sweater. Dabi’s hands crackled and the temperature of the room fluctuated. “No burning down the bar and loser cleans up the mess,” he mumbled. He leaned back against the counter behind him, fingers digging into the wood. He’d stopped it if it got out of hand. He always did. The last time they fought, Dabi wound up in the river miles away and had to walk home in the cold. That seemed to sober him up. Same with Toga.

There was a scritching sound in the tense silence that drew all present gazes. Shigaraki was leaning against the door frame to the back room, nails digging into the flesh of his neck. “Inter party brawl,” he mumbled. He pushed away from the door frame. “What seems to be the problem?” He didn’t want to deal with this. He wanted to let them fight to death and keep the victor. It was all in his voice.

Kurogiri released another sigh. The glint of the platinum cufflinks on his sleeves reminded him of why he was still here. He pushed away from the counter, ready to come up with any explanation.

“Dabi is hogging Overhaul’s accountant,” Toga whined.

Dabi’s foot dragged across the floor. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Overhaul’s. Accountant. My sugar bunny of an assistant,” Toga replied. Her voice dripped with cute tones at your description.

“Don’t call them that,” he growled.

“Don’t act like they’re your property!”

“They’re not my property.”

“Then share. I wanna hear what sweet sounds they make when I’m down between their thighs—”

“Try it, you trashy bitch, and I’ll burn you from the inside out!”

“Are we done?” Shigaraki’s quiet voice was a surprise beneath the screaming match. Dabi flexed his fingers, turning away from Toga. He muttered to himself about Overhaul, about the yakuza, about missing something. Toga twirled her knife lazily. “Why…were we fighting?” he asked slowly.

Toga swung her arms as she turned to him. “Dabi’s found a playmate,” she confessed, “And apparently, they’re yakuza connected.” She stabbed the knife into the bar with a grin. “Are we gonna play with them again? I’d really enjoy that. I like being the scoundrel Toga.”

“A playmate?” Shigaraki repeated. Dabi stormed out of the room, ripping his jacket from the back of his chair on the way out. Both of Shigaraki’s hands fluttered to his neck.