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astronomyforastrologers · 1 year ago

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Pluto’s Statehood ~ 05 Apr 2024

Pluto’s Statehood ~ 05 Apr 2024, Philip Sedgwick

On Friday 29 March 2024, Arizona Governor Katie Hobbs signed into law a bill that Pluto is the Official State Planet of the Great State of Arizona. This action was caused (inspired?) by the fact that Clyde Tombaugh “discovered” Pluto at Lowell Observatory in Flagstaff, on 18 February 1930. What’s your state, territory, province, commonwealth or feudal lord dominion done for you lately?

As far as states go, only California (Eris, Makemake, Gonggong, Sedna) and Hawaii (Haumea) could pass similar legislation. As far as countries go, who knows where the classical planets were discovered. Greece, what is now Saudi Arabia? The United Kingdom could fairly claim Uranus, though it not given proper due during the discovery process. Neptune presents a more complicated problem. While discovered in Germany, it discovery position was calculated by mathematicians from France and England... perhaps this marks the start of the United Planetary Nations.

Back to Arizona... news sources made a huge point of splashing their content pages with the allegation that Pluto is not a planet. So did politicians opposing the bill. Actually, for them, it was not so much about Pluto’s planetary status as it was the idea that legislators from the other party advanced the bill. Pluto’s planetary status is political as well. Back a few decades ago, a semantical and fiercely political battle occurred during the meeting of the members of the International Astronomical Union over what makes a planet a planet. The concluding definition is complicated, semantically flawed, and ultimately is as unclear as the River Styx is dark. Nowadays, there are several movements to restore Pluto’s pristine planetary status. Cheers to that.

Anyone who has ever had a Pluto transit, can confirm Pluto is a planet. Who else but Pluto can take the highest flying personality and knock that person to their knees for an in-depth look at the underworld, the machinations of the psyche, and the ultimate needs of the soul?

Will Pluto’s statehood status mean anything to those enduring one of his transiting passages that seem to last for ever? “I have nothing to do with the affairs of state,” Pluto may reply, “it’s all about the affairs of the soul. Should soulful individuals conduct themselves in such a way that states benefit, then the world may be on its way to more humanistic possibilities. After all, I currently occupy Aquarius.” Then he breaks into renditions of songs from the musical “Hair.”

Of course, those being “practical” and uber-cautious with Pluto point out that in the upcoming presidential election in the United States - an event that dramatically impacts all states and countries in that “everything is connected” way, Pluto transits the last minutes of Capricorn. Will this permit greed, economic influence and income disparity to inflame the globe? It could.

However, consider that the other big planetary players all transit Pluto through positive and benefic ways over the course of the next years.

As June begins, Jupiter in Gemini trines Pluto in Aquarius. That should be good for truth, justice and a kinder way of thinking and being. Of course snicker fans of Saturn, every solution starts from a mess. Jupiter winks at Pluto and retorts, “No. Good things come from the realization of necessity.” The benefic planet then whips out his golden ephemeris and points to July of 2025. “Check this out,” he bellows, “Saturn is in Aries about to go retrograde, but so what? He’s sextile Pluto. Not only that, Uranus is in Gemini, close enough in orb to be considered a trine. Not only that, Neptune bolts through the early degrees of Aries, more or less conjunct Saturn, sextile to Pluto. If that won’t bring visions and dreams to reality, by Jove, I’m not Jove.”

Sure say proponents of safe prognostication, “All those gaseous planets retrograde as they do and it takes time for the effects they seek to render to come into being.” Okay, fine. As April 2026 begins, Saturn sextiles Pluto from his foothold in Aries. Come July 2026, Neptune again sextiles Pluto, also from Aries, and at the same time Uranus repeats a trine to Pluto. Sure Neptune sextile Pluto repeats in June 2027 and this occurrence again with the Uranus in Gemini two-step trine to Pluto in Aquarius.

This goes on a while. Through May 2028 Uranus continues the parade with yet another trine to Pluto. The entire Neptune to Pluto thing goes on well into 2031.

So what are you going to do to make good from the impelling influences setting up years of possibility and promise ahead?

Rumor is that Jupiter and Uranus are less than three weeks from lining up in a conjunction in Taurus. Sure, there’s a materialism with this that may not become entirely evident until Pluto does his last ding into Capricorn. There’s also innovation, application of insight, manifestation of necessities promised by Jupiter and realized by Uranus. Will these commodities produce overnight product development and consciousness shifts? Not likely. Those who are overnight successes typically have done heaps of Saturn work for what seems like eons out of sight to prepare for the big events to come... and also to please Pluto’s fondness for invisibility.

Could the solar system feel flat and uninspired after the touted Jupiter to Uranus transit? Sure. Could things feel unsettled after next week’s highly promoted Solar Eclipse? Most certainly. But the eclipse intends to stir and shake the fabric of self into realization of what clearly means the most to the soul. With that, the stirring settles and focus can be restored to what matters most and that can become the focal point on everyone’s distant horizon.

Yes, and down the road over the next few months, Jupiter and Saturn aspect the Great Attractor, a plethora of black holes and more galactic goodies than jelly beans recently placed in Easter baskets. It’s not going to feel flat... in fact, the curvature of space caused by galactic entities might bring everyone to the correct position just around the bend.

It’s Aries season, despite Mercury retrograde. Honor Pluto’s new statehood. He dares you. On your mark, get set...

More soon.

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chiwhorei · 5 years ago

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gun bunny

pairing: mafia!s. aizawa x fem!reader

genre: mafia!au, quirkless!au, smut- 18+ minors dni

word count: 2.5k

warning: somnophilia, voyeurism, violence, attempted kidnapping, attempted assault, mentions of blood, mentions of guns and knives, degradation, age-gap (reader is 19 and aizawa is 31), spitting

a/n: hello! this is my contribution to the smut pile mafia!server collab, this is both my first smut pile collab (this is so late i am so sorry sksksksk) and my first full-length bnha piece, be sure to check out everyone else’s amazing work here! thank you to @10millionyearsdungeon and @messwriting for your constant support while i trudged through sad pal hours for a fucking month and crawled out of the pits of writer’s block

hymns: hayloft by - mother mother, i’m on fire - awolnation cover

Blood pours over decades like syrup, the tinny-sweet smell was distinct but all too familiar. A muffled gun’s buzzing frames 19 years of life. The barrel feels cool, sitting precariously by the highest angle of your cheekbone.

“I told you not to cause trouble, brat. Now I have to clean up your little mess.”

Aizawa’s body is tall and broad above you, holding you against him with a protective grip on the small of your back. Every word is sneering, punctuated with a growl-- you feel it reverberate against his chest.

The bullet is resounding even through the silencer; a deafening sound, final bell tolling next to smeared streaks of mascara.

Aizawa Shouta has always been around-- whether bringing your dad a hefty stack of reports to thumb through or loosening his tie in the parlor and toasting him to another job well done. A carousel of chauffeurs and bodyguards encircle you, but all are nameless faces except for the man that can make people disappear in an instant: Eraser.

Otsuka y/n, the only daughter of the most powerful man in Japan, is a weighty title against your shoulders. Your father’s reputation has cradled you for almost two decades, keeping you draped in fur and balancing on red-bottoms. He has more money, more power than God. To most of your father’s inner circle, you are the dutiful, angelic heiress to his blood-soaked empire. You play the part well enough, polite, temperate- your hands are painted red in culpability, but perfectly manicured.

Your father’s business isn’t a secret, no matter his attempts to shield you over the years. There’s only so many nights spent humming to the tune of cracking skulls in the next room before “investments in oil” starts to lose its validity. Whenever you ask him, he pats your head, smoothing stray strands of hair, “I do it all for you, bunny. Everything is for you.”

You decide not to think about rouge splatters of blood and bruises against his knuckles, ignoring the clicking of a loading gun before he leaves for the office.

It’s better this way.

“You can’t be serious, Otsuka.” Aizawa paces across the hardwood, heel to toe with Italian leather from one large bookshelf to the other. A familiar habit, you’ve seen the contemplative marching before and know it to mean one thing: Aizawa is pissed.

“Have you ever known me to joke around? Especially with y/n?” Your father’s elbows hit the table in front of him, the jagged scars lining his face seem even more intimidating when coupled with a harshly set frown. You perch on the side of his large desk, swinging your feet lightly.

“Oh daddy, I’m not a child. I don’t need Eraser to babysit me.” You huff, crossing your arms and providing a pout to your father’s hard expression. You hear the mumbled, “Don’t call me that,” from behind you, but decide against a response.

“He’s going to look after you while I’m in Musutafu. I have to handle some…” he trails off slightly, one of his hands coming up to rub against his bald head, “noncompliance, but I shouldn’t be gone for more than a few days.” His disfigured fingers curling around yours, you look up to meet his eye, “Be a good girl, bunny.”

You give your father’s temple a kiss, pulling back to smile sweetly. Your next words have Aizawa snorting, rolling his eyes far enough into his skull to be painful.

“I always am.”

A bend downwards at the hips frames your ass perfectly, the lace of your panties curls around your pussy tightly, hooking against the lips and showcasing your soft skin. Questions swirl in the bowl of cereal in front of him, all but forgotten as soon as a cup“fell” from your fingers and clattered to the floor. The taste, the smell, the feeling of--

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Aizawa is ripped from the reprehensible desires of his senses to meet your eyes, your form still folded over on itself and displayed for Aizawa in the otherwise empty kitchen. You giggle at his scowl, snapping back up and smoothing out your skirt. Aizawa bites down on the spoon in between his teeth, he swears he can feel his teeth cracking. Better his canines than his will.

This only marks the beginning of a long week for your father’s right-hand man. The proceeding days turn to nights at a snail's pace. The past week has been inching towards disaster with every minute of alone time you could steal with Aizawa.

“Eraser, what are you doing up so late.” Your voice curls around his shoulder, the whine tugging him towards your open bedroom door. It’s late, far too late for you to be up to anything good.

You always like to push your luck, playing a game you know Aizawa won’t let himself win. Pressing firmly against the line but never pointing your heel across. Maintaining your immunity, feigning innocence behind a soft pout. Your appointed guardian isn’t fooled by any honeyed façade you build around his associates. He knows what you are at the core.

He tries to shake off your pull, but the way your voice lilts against the long hallway is magnetic. The past few nights have been the same song and dance, your disarming call to him as he trudges to one of the many guest bedrooms. Every night he gets closer, heavy feet and tense nerves guiding him towards your warm voice. He’s weathering a sea, you’re the siren hell-bent on his drowning.

“I told you not to call me that, little girl.” His response to your wanton call is shallow, the nickname is one he hates the sound of, especially rolling past your lips.

“Do you like what you see?”

Aizawa’s brows set harshly as he looks on to where you lie nestled in pillows and silk. You have nothing but a loose, light pink camisole to cover your body, cotton panties pulled down to your ankles with shameless intent. Your legs are spread wide for your viewer’s pleasure, two fingers brush against your lips, dragging lazily- up and back down.

Aizawa knows what you really are, a petulant brat.

You pull at the soft skin, spreading yourself to unveil the tight, clenching hole. He leans his shoulder against the jam, eyes drinking you in where his body shamefully wishes to be. The groan aching deeply in his chest is not lost on you as your other hand pulls the hem of your shirt upwards to catch in between your teeth.

The soft plush of your breasts bounces slightly, nipples peeking out from the folds of fabric, now fully exposed to the inky-black stare of your voyeur. There’s nothing left to his imagination now, the question that haunts sleepless nights, palming a large hand up and down his cock and imagining something softer and smaller. The picture of what his boss’s precious daughter would look like squirming under him becoming clearer beyond all reason.

Aizawa should turn heel and walk away, he should slam your bedroom door shut and count the days until your father’s return with a measured distance. He should walk away. He should-

A soft whimper drags him from contemplation and back to the writhing succubus center stage. Your fingers move quickly against your aching clit, drawing out babbled pleas to hit harshly against the tall, brooding presence at your door.

“I’ve had about enough of your games, bunny. Your father tasked me to keep you out of trouble, but you are the trouble.” Aizawa’s words hit your ears mockingly, but they sound more like an invitation than a warning, especially as his body inches forward, breaching the threshold of your bedroom inch by inch.

Two fingers slip past your lips, pushing in and drawing back slicked with arousal. You repeat the action, slowly, ensuring the boring set of eyes are trained on where you clench desperately; wanting to put on a good show with your bodyguard in the front row.

Aizawa’s head is swimming, dizzy and drunk. He wants to tear you apart, to lay claim to the twitching prize between your legs. If you struggle around two of your own much smaller fingers, it would be nearly impossible to wrap you around his thick cock.

That is, not without breaking you.

The heated pants escaping you pick up in canter, your audience winding a tight cord with his presence alone. Aizawa is unrelenting in his deep, unblinking stare, stepping towards your bed slowly. Once his body is looming over you, the coil in your stomach has turned into a hair pinned trigger.

“Such a messy little slut. Getting off to the attention aren’t you?” You’re rendered dumb at his comment, Aizawa barely has to press his thumb into your chin before your mouth hangs open. You look up with glassy eyes, fingers sore from working against your pussy, chasing a high you can only imagine how fast Aizawa could steal from you. His expression is as neutral as always, but the despondency doesn’t quite shadow the fire burning in his eyes. You watch him lean forward slightly, a string of saliva falling downward to land against your tongue. His spit feels hot, you can taste the remnants of cigar and mint gum as you swallow.

You come undone in a litany of cries, pleading with your captor. His hold is passive as he looks at you, watching you cum against your fingers, the squelching sounds make his mouth dry. The only source of hydration is at the apex of your thighs. Visions flash before his eyes, images of what the curve of your breasts look like as he’s buried tongue deep, lapping you up post-orgasm and pushing you over once more for good measure.

Aizawa retreats, lest he pulls you against his mouth while your cunt is still pulsating, he needs to escape before your knees are pressed to your shoulders. He slams your door closed harshly, leaving you with the taste of his contempt for you on your bottom lip.

You’re quick to sleep, body falling into the warmth of unconsciousness coupled with dreams of what a certain set of fingers would feel like against you. How the scars and calluses would brush against your most intimate inches of spongy flesh, how he would stretch you.

You can almost feel the soreness in between your legs and the heavy slap of something against your stomach. You can almost remember the whispered confessional swimming in the back of your head, the soft grunts from above your sleeping form. As sunlight stretches across your sleep-stiff body, your hand trails down over your naked skin, maybe you aren’t the only one playing games this week.

You could have almost sworn you had gone to sleep with panties on.

The car ride to your father’s bar was filled with unflattering tension. You had protested in vain that going with Aizawa wasn’t necessary, but had been met with a dismissive, “I don’t trust you to behave.”

“I’m not a child, Eraser. I don’t see why I couldn’t just sit at home.” You wobble behind your escort, heeled boots clacking against the gravel.

As you enter the building, a young mop of violet hair flanks Aizawa down with a stack of papers. The man is nameless to you but is familiar enough to be assumed under your father’s thumb.

Aizawa looks over the document’s now held in front of him with care, rolling up the sleeves to his crisp dress shirt as his eyes scan the pages. You note the shimmering silvered skin of a scar under his left eye, pronounced by the harsh lighting surrounding you. His hair is held up partially by a tie, the loose strands framing his face.

“Are you listening to me, little girl?” You're snapped back from watching his mouth curling around syllables to actually make out what they’ve been saying.

“Go sit down, I’ll only be a few minutes.” You nod along and turn to perch at the bar, but stop at the grip pulling you back for one final order. “Don’t get yourself into trouble.”

Aizawa leaves you to stew in the subtle brush of his pointer finger against the tender skin of your wrist, he rubs the skin subtly before disappearing to the back rooms.

The minutes ticking by are agonizing. Aizawa, usually the epitome of brief, has been gone long enough for the condensation on your glass to mar the wood below it in countless ringlets. You twirl the straw against the strawberry liquor, willing time to crank by faster with the action. The drink in your veins isn’t nearly enough to get you drunk but does make the opening of the front door unnoticeable.

Your back is facing the heavy wood, unaware of the two strangers now approaching until the curdling sound of one man’s voice hits the shell of your ear.

“Well, well, look what we have here. Why don’t I buy you a drink, princess?” Each man steals one of your sides, enclosing you into a tight, predatory huddle.

“This is my bar. I don’t need you to buy me anything.” You try to shake off the nauseating feeling of their bodies so close to you, gut twisting uncomfortably as one man’s breath crawls across your shoulder blades. They’re both so close. Too close.

“Wow, this little kitty cat’s got some claws, don’t she?” You feel hands curl around each bicep, a bruising grip right below your armpits. Your body is hoisted up, your balance off at the jarring upheaval.

Possible escape routes flash across your mind but all seem impossible. Would trying to shake off the still faceless strangers even work? And even if you sprung free, would you make it to the back office before they caught up? Should you try to scream? Would Aizawa hear you?

Before you can make any moves, you feel the flat side of a knife at your collarbone. A chill rattles down your spine at the contact, two inches of metal keeping your entire body compliant.

Their intent is clear, you’ll be coming with them, and by the sharp point of a blade digging into the first layer of skin-- you’ll be coming quietly.

A mixture of shock and disbelief compels your body into compliance, dragging you to the front door and closer towards an awaiting trunk.

“Your carriage, princess.” You hear the shorter man on your right, his voice at your neck sounds waterlogged through the blood rushing in your ears. Any protests die at the knife against your skin, digging in shallowly and pricking a small trail of red along your clavicle.

A sharp snap sounds behind you, like a piece of thin wood under a heavy boot. One of your captors falls in a pile next to you. You’re turned around to meet a familiar pair of venomous, black eyes, Aizawa’s words roll from his tongue with a growl.

You’re pulled at the wrist, stumbling back into the strong chest of your appointed bodyguard.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing with my bunny?”

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

#aizawa smut #aizawa x reader smut #aizawa x reader #bnha smut #bnha x reader #shouta aizawa #tw: somnophilia #tw: violence #tw: blood #tw: weapons

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bigskydreaming · 4 years ago

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I am looking (disrespectfully) at the trope of Bruce and other family members only seeming to respect Dick’s wishes when doing so aligns with what they already wanted to do.

Let’s go to the examples!

1) Bruce not broaching adoption with Dick because he wants to respect Dick’s first parents and feels like he would be taking their place or overstepping or putting himself in between Dick and his memories of his parents. Sometimes its cited that Dick himself expressed this wish early on after his parents died, sometimes its not and this is still just upheld as Bruce’s reasoning for not adopting Dick before he was already well into adulthood.

THE FATAL FLAW (in mine own personal opinion, natch. Personal mileage may vary, check your speedometer to be safe):

This particular plot point or tangle is in my experience ALWAYS paired with Bruce’s own insecurities about his role in Dick’s life, or not wanting to push that or receive an answer he doesn’t want to or is afraid to hear. Sometimes its about his fears of unworthiness to be Dick’s actual parent, etc, etc. But the bottom line is, there is always the presence of SOME element (and not a small one) in which Bruce’s own self-interest or feelings are protected by him NOT broaching the adoption conversation with Dick and having to confront these fears head on.

This is additionally juxtaposed with the problem that although there’s a lot of variance in regards to stories where Bruce fired Dick versus stories where Dick gave up being Robin and moved on to Nightwing voluntarily....there’s NOT a lot of stories where Dick makes Jason Robin himself or is asked by Bruce first. The part where Bruce takes this initiative on his own, without thinking through its repercussions on Dick emotionally.....this is practically always present.

Now, the problem here is that......Dick became or began becoming Robin well into his time with Bruce. Its frequently cited as the thing that began allowing them to truly connect, their time training and acting as Batman and Robin.

Meaning no matter WHAT interpretation you go with as to why specifically Dick chose the name Robin, whether it was a family nickname or an homage to Robin Hood.....the fact remains, NOTHING of Robin, THEMATICALLY, nothing that spoke to Dick in regards to what he wanted Robin to be - specifically in honor of his parents because avenging his parents and making sure what happened to them didn’t happen to others like, this was literally a key part of what bonded Dick and Bruce, the fact that Bruce was TRYING to help Dick specifically BECAUSE they shared this particular overlap of purpose - like the bottom line is, nothing about Robin CAME from Bruce. Or Dick’s feelings about Bruce. That....didn’t really even exist yet, at the time he created Robin. Everything about Robin, other than the physical costume itself, not even the design just the actual creation of it....all of that came from BEFORE he met Bruce. None of it was thoughts or feelings derived from BRUCE. Its the whole reason Dick was never Batkid or Batlad, or any derivative of Batman.

It all, ALL came from what Dick came to the manor WITH. Remnants of his life with his first family.

So the fatal flaw of Bruce’s reasoning that by not broaching the subject of adoption with Dick before well into adulthood, he was actually just respecting Dick’s relationship with his first parents and not trying to come between them and Dick’s memories and feelings about them....

All of this is inherently undermined by Bruce’s own actions.....when by repurposing Robin to ANY degree, even just to give the mantle to Jason.....this meant that he was inherently viewing Robin as being more about being Batman’s partner, HIS partner....then it was about being Dick’s heritage, his last intangible keepsake of his first family and life BEFORE Bruce.

In effect....Bruce making Jason Robin or firing Dick as Robin, either way....both betray Bruce’s OWN alleged intentions for only wanting to respect Dick’s relationship with his parents, and that being why he didn’t want to overstep by trying to impose or even ask for his own official parent/child relationship with Dick. Because that’s exactly what appropriating the Robin mantle was. It was Bruce ignoring the relationship Dick had with his parents and their memory and the fact that Robin was directly born of that....and making Robin entirely about Bruce’s OWN relationship with Dick, heedless of any other factors.

And the second Bruce did that.....his entire justification for not raising the adoption issue....disappears. It goes away. Because you can’t claim inaction being just a result of not wanting to disrespect something you’ve already voided respect for. No matter whether Bruce INTENDED it or not.....by crossing this boundary, Bruce already acted against Dick’s feelings in this regard and well, disregarded them....which makes claims of Bruce not raising the adoption issue pretty much JUST self-serving at that point. Its an alleged viewpoint of Dick’s that Bruce largely just ASSUMES....and only ultimately respects - in direct contrast to how he didn’t respect the associations Dick had with Robin - because it aligns with something Bruce ALREADY wanted to do, rather than what Dick actually wanted. It provided justification for Bruce to just....not have a conversation he was afraid to have. And that’s about Bruce at that point. Its not about Dick. Its just like...not.

2) Another example of this that is not unique to just Bruce, but recurs frequently in both canon and fanfics in Dick’s dynamics with other characters he’s close with.....is characters not apologizing for things they’ve done to Dick or raising the issue of things they did a long time ago but never apologized for....while claiming to do so because they thought DICK didn’t want to talk about it.

THE FATAL FLAW (in my own personal opinion. Nuances and variations may not be identical at all store locations, please see your local branch for details):

The particular problem I have here is that....Dick never ever ever in the history of ever and also the before ever time.....has EVER expressed a desire to avoid confrontation.

Like. That’s what he DOES. That’s his JAM. That’s literally CITED time and time again as one of the reasons he’s viewed as more of a people person and natural team leader than Bruce and other Batfam members....because he’s not afraid to cut straight (or bi) to the heart of the matter and air out a dispute.

In fact, this very character trait is one of the ones most commonly utilized AGAINST Dick in various depictions of him, as he’s often cited as TOO confrontational, TOO eager for a fight or conflict especially when his temper is engaged, such as when he’s well....personally hurt or offended.

So how does it follow, then, that avoiding tough conversations ONLY when its on the OTHER person to INITIATE, because they were the ones who DID the wrong-doing and Dick the subject of that rather than the instigator....how does it work, exactly, that these are the only times in which we DON’T tend to see a direct conversation about the harms done and the fallout that resulted? With it being claimed that this is solely for Dick’s benefit, out of a desire to avoid pulling him into an allegedly unnecessary (but really just unpleasant) confrontation?

When the concurrent reality is that whether stated or acknowledged or not.....avoiding these specific conversations and ONLY these conversations (as there never seems to be a problem finding canon or fanfic stories in which Dick apologizes for harm HE’S caused to others or is clearly expected to).....this avoidance also carries the side benefit of allowing the character who DID something wrong to Dick to....not ever have to have that super uncomfortable conversation in which they actually verbally acknowledge the thing they did to him and the effects it had on him, and apologize for that.....and then render themselves vulnerable to actually hearing whether or not he accepts their apology or is still upset with them regardless.

While - as long as they DON’T ever have this conversation, for whatever reason - they can look to the clear and consistent precedent of Dick continuing to work with people who have done things like oh, I don’t know....punched him in the face cuz they’re mad at him (and this isn’t a Bruce critical point, this is a whole damn family critical point as the only one who HASN’T actually done this is Duke. Well, Cass technically just threw him out a window, but I mean, tomato toh-mah-to). Writers and characters both can lean on the fact that actually Dick has a pretty clear track record of ultimately giving up a grudge or at least showing a willingness to look past those grudges enough that it doesn’t prevent him from still maintaining or resuming some kind of relationship with the person who hurt him.

And thus, like Example Numero Uno......this ultimately just lets other characters off the hook while claiming to do Dick a favor, but actually Dick receives no real benefit from it and instead now just has another instance of characters saying “see we respect your wishes” when ultimately their inaction is MORE in service to their own wishes and self-interests.

2b) See also the variation of this in which characters such as Bruce, Jason, Tim and assorted others like....are written specifically determining that they’re not going to apologize to Dick or beg his forgiveness because they feel they don’t DESERVE to be forgiven, and once again....its in HIS best interests that they not even give him the opportunity to say he forgives them....because they know Dick Grayson of course, and they know he’s too forgiving for his own good, so its better to like....not make it ever a possibility in this particular instance.

With the problem here being like.....Dick can’t and shouldn’t be expected to KNOW that’s their logic? So....all he’s going to actually SEE is loved ones just....not expressing remorse for hurting him or acknowledgment it even happened? Which....hurts?

So......hurting your loved one MORE after already hurting them....because you don’t feel you deserve to be forgiven for hurting them in the first place and are actually PROTECTING them from being hurt more when mistakenly forgiving you.....by.....hurting and continuing to hurt them with your silence and lack of evident remorse....

Mmmm.....

Its not the best approach, y’know?

Flaws are detected.

3) Dick’s friends and family manipulating situations in order to get the end result THEY desire, while claiming to do so for his benefit only. Dick being willing to manipulate people to achieve his own ends comes up a LOT actually....but there’s relatively little examination of how often people do this to him, claiming his best interests but really just circumventing his clearly stated desires for independence and the right to make his own choices about what HE needs....or when this is brought up, its usually limited to JUST Bruce doing it, but uh....no that ain’t it.

Specific examples of this are like when Wally joins the 1999 version of the Titans specifically to get Dick to join up, because in his estimation Dick needs more of a social life and is drowning himself with his responsibilities....and then quits not long after Dick is finally officially invested in staying with the team. Another example is when Roy gets Dick to join the Outsiders based entirely on his pitch of NOT treating the team like a family, like they did with the Titans, so that Dick could keep emotional distance and not be as worried about losing them like he suffered from losses like Donna....with his claim again being that he worried about Dick in the aftermath of that loss, etc.

And to be clear! Its not that I think Wally and Roy and others who do similar things have NEGATIVE intentions in mind for Dick. That’s the whole point of this post.....like the other examples, I fully believe THEY believe (or writers believe when writing them this way) that they have Dick’s best interests in mind and not their own. I just....disagree.

THE FATAL FLAW (at least as I see it here):

Is that I view this and Batfam members who do similar stuff as like.....falling into the trap of the savior friend complex. Its that thing when you see a friend hurting, and over time get FRUSTRATED by seeing this when a solution seems obvious to you but think they won’t take it because they’re too stubborn or don’t know what’s best for them....with this specifically recurring a LOT with Dick in particular, due to his core characterization of wanting to be the one to make his own choices. The problem here, same as the problem with the savior friend complex....is that it treats the subject of these views as like....incapable of determining what they need. Its a tacit condemnation that they actually don’t know how to cope with things and are doing it wrong - even though the ones making this assessment will never be the ones actually having to LIVE with the outcome of their meddling. Its the conviction that someone like Dick needs to be HANDLED, for his own good....because he can’t be trusted to KNOW what he needs, not as well as them at least.....and so they jump to manipulation rather than just....ASK him what he needs, or HOW they can best support him, or even just WHY he’s making the choices he is.

For instance, the problem with what Wally did was never that Dick wasn’t struggling. He was. He was drowning in his responsibilities, he had very little to no life outside of them.....Wally is not remotely in the wrong for WANTING to do something to change this situation. The problem is Wally basically defaulted to just...HANDLING his friend by restarting the Titans just to give Dick a social life again, which is pretty much a line straight out of the comics...and basically railroaded right over Dick’s initial ‘no’ when he first heard the proposal. And kept pushing things until Dick eventually joined up in order to get Wally to commit to the team too, because Wally spun it as though Dick was helping Wally by getting Wally to commit to the team for the very same reasons Wally wanted Dick to. And then....right after that, Wally quit to go back to just focusing on the Justice League, which was part of what Dick predicted would happen all along.

The thing was.....at no point along the way did Wally actually ask WHY Dick initially said no....he jumped straight to assuming his own view of the problem, that Dick just COULDN’T be made to ever see the reason to take a break occasionally and put his mental and emotional health as a priority. If he’d done this, Wally could have had dozens of other options to achieve his desired end result....he could’ve like....set up regular hangouts with Dick.

But Wally jumped to assuming he knew the answer, he knew what was best for Dick, and that Dick’s logic was inherently self-destructive and self-flagellating.....and he felt the solution was to bring back the Titans, as he recalled their earlier times as Titans together as a time when Dick was better able to balance his social life and responsibilities.

But by not ever stopping to LISTEN to why Dick felt the way he did and was initially opposed to rejoining the Titans....Wally overlooked one crucial fact: He isn’t Dick.

And more important, his view of the past wasn’t Dick’s view of the past.

Wally was a lot more capable of viewing the Titans as not just a family, but an inherent social life, a hangout, a kind of club....because that’s what it had always been to him.

But he’d never been the leader.

Throughout all their childhoods, the whole time the Titans WERE all of the above, and relatively light-hearted in comparison to their older selves....Dick STILL had the weight of responsibilities that none of the others had by virtue of just...not being the leader. Ultimately, all of their lives were in HIS hands. He was the one calling the shots. The buck stopped with him.

And this is precisely WHY Dick had gotten to the point he had in adulthood. It wasn’t because he’d changed. It wasn’t because he’d stopped figuring out what he needed and how to take care of himself. Its because the position he’d ALWAYS been in as leader....has WEIGHT. That eventually added up more and more and weighed him down. A huge part of the reason Dick had ended up leaving the Titans in the first place, before they disbanded prior to the 1999 revival....is because of the sheer WEIGHT of all the deaths and misfortunes that had befallen the Titans....and how much he and he alone struggled with it in ways the others didn’t....because they didn’t have to. It hadn’t been their plans, their calls, their RESPONSIBILITY to find a way the others could have all made it out alive or at least less traumatized.

So.....of COURSE Dick said no when Wally first proposed restarting the Titans, before Wally defaulted to using his own membership as a lure to get Dick to agree.....because......nothing about the above paragraph had changed, via Wally’s ‘plan.’ It wasn’t because Dick just didn’t KNOW how to be a fully rounded person....it was because nobody was helping him find actual OPTIONS for doing that....that didn’t just double as MORE responsibilities! Because that’s exactly what ended up happening! Dick wound up the leader of the Titans again, just as responsible and just as invested as always.....just like he always knew he would....and also as he knew would happen...Wally ended up quitting not long into it and persuading Jessie Quick to step in as his replacement....aka just one more person for Dick to worry about when it wasn’t like he was going to be worrying any less about Wally, just now he wasn’t going to have Wally there to even POTENTIALLY be able to support him when tragedy inevitably struck because they’re freaking superheroes....and instead he’d just have another person looking to him for the answers but with no reason or chance of being the support Dick could ACTUALLY use at times like that!

Wally’s manipulations circumvented Dick’s opinion that no, actually he knew what was best for him and it wasn’t what Wally was suggesting....without actually accounting for the fact that hey, Dick might actually know that. And in the end, Wally got the result he was after, he got to feel that he’d HELPED his friend....which again, this isn’t WRONG to WANT to....but Dick didn’t...exactly....benefit from this. It wasn’t actually in his best interests ultimately.

I mean...see Donna’s death for details.

And in the aftermath of THAT....Roy essentially did exactly what Wally did....just in REVERSE! Roy got Dick to agree to lead the Outsiders, to shoulder responsibility once again....by promising that Dick WOULDN’T have to view them as family. And did Dick go too far and end up TOO uncaring about their welfare? Yup! No disagreements there! Problem is though....he only ended UP in that situation because yet again a friend thought they KNEW the solution to what Dick needed.....only for Dick to end up essentially punished and further self-blaming....just for doing exactly what Roy had told him TO do, with this particular team. Again - Roy hadn’t EXPECTED Dick to take it this far. But that’s the whole point! Roy had expectations about what Dick would ACTUALLY end up doing, that didn’t match up to the pitch Roy actually gave Dick to GET his agreement.....because Roy all along was of the assumption that by virtue of being Dick Grayson, he wouldn’t be ABLE to avoid connecting with these new teammates and viewing them as family, and thus he’d end up ‘snapping out of it’ with it being the funk he’d been in since Donna’s death.

Roy’s intentions might have been noble, once again.....but his methods stuck to the same pattern of people around Dick believing they knew what he needed or knew who he was or knew what it meant to BE Dick Grayson....better than Dick actually did...particularly when Dick said no, this isn’t what I need or this isn’t a good idea or just...I don’t want to do this.

And in the end....its Dick who ended up paying the price for it, as well as the people who got hurt because of his INTENTIONAL emotional distance.....because the ‘view all surrounding people as new surrogate family’ aspect of the Dick Grayson Experience hadn’t kicked in as Roy thought inevitably would....but the ‘view all this as directly my fault and suffer guilt for it forevermore’ aspect of the Dick Grayson Experience most certainly did! Not at all actually helped along by the fact that like....Roy also expressed frustration with Dick that like.....Dick hadn’t actually responded to Roy’s intended manipulation of his emotions the way Roy had expected him to when he EXPRESSLY TOLD DICK TO BEHAVE THE WAY THAT DICK ULTIMATELY BEHAVED. (Just, he didn’t tell Dick to dial that all the way up to Extra, but given that’s the only setting Dick does ANYTHING at, I feel its a possible outcome Roy should have at least considered. I mean, wasn’t the whole point that you know Dick Grayson better than he knows himself?)

But lo, I am salty.

LMAO, but I mean, you get it right? Obviously, I LIKE Wally and Roy. I LIKE Jason, etc. I’m not saying all of this to be like ugh how dare these characters do all this to Dick....I’m saying it because like.....they all keep falling into the same patterns of making a big fuss and acknowledgment of how much Dick prioritizes being able and free to make his own choices and decide what’s best for him and what HE wants.....

But without ever like....actively asking him AT THE RELEVANT TIME....what he thinks and feels about all this. What he thinks and feels he needs. What he ACTUALLY wants from them, or why he’s ACTUALLY saying no to something and maybe it being for reasons that aren’t just him inherently being stubborn and self-destructive.

And instead just defaulting to falling back on whatever he might have said or expressed in an entirely different context at an entirely different time.....and saying okay, by doing so, we are abiding by his wishes and thus doing what he wants and respecting his right to make his own choices.....

But ONLY when doing all of the above just so happens to align with these other characters then getting to do the thing or take the approach they’re already predisposed towards wanting to take because of their OWN self-interests at the same time.

With this never actually coming into play when respecting Dick’s wishes aligns with them taking actions they DON’T personally want to undertake, because it makes them uncomfy or they think its a bad call, even if it is something that should be his call to make.

Like....the pattern. It very much exists. And abounds. Like I could cite examples allllllllllll the way up to Ric Grayson, where Bruce respected RIC’S wishes to be left alone and not interfere in his life no matter what.....in ways Bruce almost never respects Dick’s actual expressed wish for Bruce to butt out of matters when Bruce is actually quite keen on meddling and would very much like to....

But notice how the other thing about the Ric Grayson storyline is that Ric’s expressed desire to stay the fuck out of vigilantism and superhero work, like.....just so happens to align with Bruce’s longstanding desire for Dick to like...get out of the vigilantism and superhero work? With butting out of Ric’s life and respecting his privacy in ways Dick has to FIGHT him for, like......absolutely the optimal action to take in order to allow this expressed desire of Ric’s to flourish in the ways Bruce always wished would kick in for Dick?

.....just saying.

The pattern. It abounds.

And the key to breaking any pattern, of course, is to first recognize....and acknowledge....that it exists.

Otherwise you tend to fall into the trap of repeating and perpetuating it over and over without even realizing it, simply because its what’s familiar.

This has been A Post by Me. Thank you and have a nice day. Or don’t. Idk. I’m not the boss of you. Whatever.

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messymessyml · 4 years ago

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Breaking and Entering

I'll be moving this one over to AO3 at some point (done, available here), but I'll start this off on Tumblr. This is a lighthearted, multi-chapter Jasonette story.

Summary:

Marinette is away from home when a curious visitor drops in. The kwami don't see any problem letting the man in; the question is: what will the guardian think when she realizes an intruder was in her house while she was gone?

Chapter 1 is below the cut.

Chapter 1: What did I come back to now?

Marinette felt a wave of relief hit her as her key turned smoothly in the lock. She was more than ready to unload her bags and take a well-deserved night in after a whirlwind week of consulting with clients in Metropolis. She’d decided to take Tikki and Sass with her and rent a hotel for the week as most of her clients were only available for early morning consultations, and while it was the most effective way to make sure she didn’t miss a meeting, she was glad to be back home.

Gotham may not be as glitzy or have as many potential clients as Metropolis, but it more than made up for that with the anonymity that Gotham allowed her. The local mentality of ‘take no shit’ and ‘mind your own damn business and I’ll mind mine’ allowed the kwami and her freedom that they wouldn’t get in Metropolis, a city crawling with news stations and a baffling love of all things mundane. Half the time when she visited Metropolis it felt like she had a target on her back; the paparazzi were worse in Metropolis than they ever were in her Parisian hero days and that held for her professional pseudonym as well as plain Marinette. It was a wonder that with so many news outlets (and Superman to report on for crying out loud) that she was still the topic of a news piece twice in the past week: once as MDC and once as plain old Marinette. In all seriousness was helping with a local tree planting event for Earth Day that newsworthy?

‘Enough of that’, she thought, realizing that although her door was now unlocked, she’d thought so much about arriving home that she hadn’t even fully opened her door. A slight twinge of embarrassment hit her. Carrying her tiny friends everywhere was always a blessing, but sometimes, she mused, it might be nice not to have an audience for every action she took—no matter how embarrassing.

Letting go of that train of thought, Marinette stepped through and closed her door behind her, feeling tension bleed out of her shoulders. The underlying scent of vanilla and blossom honey hit her nose as she strode over to the kitchen island. She set her bags to the side and took a hold of one of her swinging barstools with the intention to sit for a bit before making any attempt at dinner for the kwami and herself. Absently tracking the path Sass and Tikki took as they flew in the direction of the room where she kept the Miracle Box, she hesitated to sit as she noticed a slowly building feeling of unease hit her. Something, she thought, was off.

Sharpening her gaze and gripping the barstool a little tighter, Marinette scanned her apartment. At first glance, the living space looked unchanged from how she left it; the furniture was where it belonged, and her shelves and wall art were unmoved. As she looked closer though, she saw items around the house that were shifted a bit more than they would be if the kwami had decided to explore while she was away: the living room rug was centered, the dishes she had left to dry right before leaving the house a week ago were put away, and the barstool she was currently grasping was a bit more level than it had ever been, thrifted as it were. The kwami were a joy to interact with and an honor to serve as their guardian, but cleaners and tinkers they were not.

Marinette released her grip on the stool, rounding the kitchen island to open the cabinets. Like she thought, the dishes she had washed a week ago were put away and the towers of plates and bowls looked straighter than they were normally. Her gut churned as the beginning stages of worry started to fill her.

A chorus of greetings from behind her met her ears, disrupting her thoughts. Turning, Marinette saw the kwami flying towards her from the hallway.

“Marinette, did you have a nice trip?” Mullo squeaked.

“Guardian, I hope all went well on your trip. It is wonderful to have you back home.” Wayzz said.

The other kwami threw in their own noises and words of agreement, mirroring Wayzz’s welcome.

Marinette couldn’t help her small smile, replying, “My trip went well, and I am happy to be back here with you all.” She paused, hesitating before she asked, “Did anything happen while we were away?”

“Not much, Pigtails.” Plagg swam leisurely into view, tailed closely by Tikki, both twirling as they approached. “Some fighting outside, and a bit of a showdown on rooftops at the end of the block, but no damage to our building.”

Wayzz intercepted Plagg’s path, floating into the center of her vision to say, “That may be true, Plagg; however, one of the combatants took a breather on our balcony by using the garden for cover. He didn’t seem injured, but he was breathing heavier than was wise. Most of us hid in the box while I continued to strengthen the wards on the outer walls and windows.”

Marinette interrupted, “No one entered the apartment?”

Wayzz hesitated, then said “The man stayed hidden as best he could, but he was quite large, and I could feel the shifting balance; if he stayed on the balcony, he would have drawn fire here. I strengthened the barrier outwards then loosened the barrier on the balcony doors, undid the latch for him, and asked Trixx to hide us from view. He had a protector’s spirit and none of us could feel an intent to harm any but the ones he’d been fighting outside. I am sorry, Guardian, for making this decision without your input.”

Marinette took a deep breath to fend off the impending tension headache, unclenching the hand she had used to subconsciously gripped her other wrist. She loosened the muscles around her eyes to soften her gaze. “It’s alright, Wayzz. I wasn’t there, and I trust your intuition. What did he do?”

“He seemed distrustful of the open door at first but ended up entering almost silently and quickly moved to scan the apartment.”

Trixx added, “I made sure he could not see the Miracle Box and that he was not visible from the outside at any point, but he stayed away from the windows for the most part.”

Roarr piped in, “He has a fierce spirit, and I agree with Wayzz that he has a strong protective streak.”

She heard some murmurs of agreement from the other kwami, some of them breaking out into small discussion pertaining to the man’s character. “If so many of you saw him, did you leave the Miracle Box then? What did you see?” Desperately, Marinette wished that the immortal beings she called friends could get to the points.

“Some of us came out to see, but most of us stayed in the box. Trixx’s illusions held; he didn’t see or hear any of us.” Barkk confirmed.

“Yes, he mostly stayed in the living room. He sat right here for a while!” Saying this, Pollen surged towards the end of the couch, landing with their back to the armrest in a bored sprawl. “Like this!”

Plagg, swaying upside down near the ceiling, lazily added, “He wasn’t much fun. All he did was check his guns then started cleaning the place. Boring.”

“Guns?! Cleaning? Why?” Alarmed, Marinette’s heartbeat started to pound at the picture painted by the kwami. They had let a large combatant enter her apartment and all he did was inspect his guns and clean??? ‘This can’t be real’, she thought. ‘Was I caught up in one of Scarecrow’s attacks on the way home?’

“He had good manners at the least.” Kaalki sniffed. “His gear smelled of money and he fixed that stool of yours that never would have entered the premises if you had listened to me from the start. At least now it isn’t horrendously squeaky.”

“Hey!” Mullo protested.

Kaalki just turned away.

“He needed the protection.” Wayzz apologetically said. “He didn’t seem interested in your workroom and he wouldn’t have been able to find the box, so we observed. He cleaned a bit and left after checking that the coast was clear outside.”

Marinette allowed her shoulders to sag. “Alright. If you’re sure.” Glancing around, she gave the kwami a smile, eyes hesitating on the glass doors leading to the balcony, she absently added, “Thank you for keeping an eye on things while I was gone.”

Striding over to the doors leading out to the balcony, she peered out. Nothing seemed out of place out here, but she couldn’t be certain. Checking the door handles, she noticed that one of the kwami or her mystery visitor must have relatched the lock. Unlocking it, she stepped out and went to sit at her patio table. Leaning back in her chair, she let her head tip back to view the sunset, partially obscured by the balcony two floors above her own. Her apartment building had mostly staggered the balconies to allow more light to reach its inhabitants, a must in Gotham’s dreary weather.

After a few moments, she let her head droop forward to land in her hands. As much as she loved them, the kwami’s survival instincts always seemed at odds with hers. She couldn’t tell whether that was due to her anxiety amplifying everything past the point of reason or that the kwami’s inherent existence rendering most danger obsolete, but while some intruder might not be a danger to beings that could turn intangible and invisible at will, she was definitely a bit more breakable (‘Mortal’, her brain whispered) than them. If she had been here? Who knows how that visit might have gone?

Taking a few more minutes to calm her body’s response, a few deep breaths, and a moment or two of gratitude that nothing bad had happened, she straightened a bit as the evening wind started to pick up and a splash of white started to flutter at the edge of her vision. Glancing up, her eye caught on a piece of paper at the other end of the table that was weighted down with a rock she had decorated a while back with paintings of ladybugs and cats playfully chasing each other across a meadow. That particular rock usually spent time in the catnip bed Plagg had insisted on and Tikki had seconded as a nod to both kwami. Curious, she reached out and grabbed the sheet of paper underneath. Opening it, she read:

Dear Stranger,

I was in a bit of a tight spot and hanging around your balcony when your door swung open. Haunted house, much? Hope you don’t mind, but I ended up using your house as a temporary safe house while you were gone. Don’t worry, I made sure no one saw me entering or exiting, so you shouldn’t have any problems from the type of shit that follows me.

On the topic of haunted houses, are you sure yours isn’t haunted? Your house is unnervingly the calmest- and safest-feeling place I’ve been in a while, but I kept seeing blurs out of the corner of my eye and I was NOT concussed. Might want to talk to someone about that.

I ended up tidying a bit while you were gone, hope you don’t mind. Fairs fair, you (unknowingly, I know) lent me a place to stay, I tidied up a bit. Stay out of trouble, alright?

Cheers,

- Red Hood

The Red Hood? The RED HOOD is who they let into the house? For kwami’s sake, what were they thinking?!?

#jasonette #Jason Todd x Marinette Dupain-Cheng #dc x mlb #ml x dc #maribat #meet cute #fluff #my writing #multichapter #Jasonette Breaking and Entering #kwami as immortal beings

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cheekygreenty · 4 years ago

Text

In My Head - The Darkling x Reader

Supppeer angsty and kinda sad?

The fire engulfed the golden kefta in a water-like rhythm. The cracks and sparks echoed in the open field amongst the silence that settled around all of you. Alina was exhausted, Zoya was grieving, the Ketterdam criminals looked shaken too. But you were unmoving, as still as a painting and not showing a single emotion. They had all witnessed your heartbreak as it fell and crashed the world around you, breaking every part of you. They watched as realization flooded you that you never truly knew Aleksander. They watched as he tore your heart from your chest and threw it into the depths of the Fold to rot.

Painted a picture,

I thought I knew you well

It was humiliating. Alina had tried to warn you but you played her off as selfish and unwilling to use her powers for the good of all Grisha. You told her she was stupid and foolish for loving an otkazat'sya when in reality you were the fool for loving a man that didn't exist.

You told her she was crazy, that Aleksander would never lie to you and that he was good because you knew him. In truth, you were no better than him. You blindly followed everything he said, completely ignoring the alarm bells in your head. You had grown used to them as weeks went by, to the point of the alarm playing a low comforting tune in your mind all day and all night.

There weren't enough apologies in the world to say sorry for the things you'd done and said to Alina and she'd insisted that no apology was necessary because it wasn't your fault, 'It's not your fault you only see the good things about people' she whispered to you before she left to change. But the good things about him weren't there; they never existed. It was all in your head, a mind so desperate for love it concocted a whole new Aleksander, one which you loved so much and would do anything for.

I got a habit of seeing what isn't there

'We were all fooled Y/N, Don't blame it all on yourself' Despite her grieving and sorrow, Zoya's hand rested on your shoulder briefly as a sign of comfort. Without her, you wouldn't have been here right now, alive and breathing.

'I don't blame myself. I hate myself for being so blind'

'Me too'

I thought that you were the one

But it was all in my head

------

You could feel the nothingness of the Fold threading through your hair even inside Alina's tunnel of safety. You stared at her shackled feet, pushing the guilt away and replacing it with a sense of righteousness. There was nothing else that could be done to keep her in check, if she wanted to escape and hide from her destiny forever then she would do so over your dead body.

The Fold needed to be gone and if chaining her to the skiff was going to be the only way she obeyed then so be it. Your mind quickly spiraled back to her hasty words back in the tent. She was panicked and desperate, clinging to your arm like a wailing child begging to be heard. Her lies were bizarre and abundant, no doubt the works from her long journey to the Stag but they were unbelievable. So extreme even a Fjerdan would laugh at their ridiculousness.

The skiff suddenly stopped, Novokribirsk visible in the distance with lines of First-Army troops standing in neat lines.

'Why have we stopped?' A dignitary asked and you wondered the same thing. You searched the skiff for anyone with an explanation, but everyone looked equally as confused but Alina looked mortified. What is going on?

'One more demonstration. You’ve seen what the Sun Summoner can do' You whipped your head around to him slightly moving away but his arm pulled you back to his side with an edge. You heard the loud jangle of Alina's chains as she tried to move. 'Now bear witness to what I can do… with her power.'

He pushed you to Ivan, who took no time in holding you back by the arms, caging you in his grasp. You resisted on the simple basis that you didn't know why you were being restrained just like Alina but the answer came all too soon. There was no time to shout or gasp as Aleksander raised his own hands and the black shadows of the Fold expanded into Novokribirsk, killing everything in its path.

You stood motionless as the horrible sounds of volcra swarming and humans screaming flooded the air. Alina's words came back to you again but you didn't listen. No, you didn't want to. Zoya seemingly came down from the mainsail and looked at the black void in a hypnosis-like stare but nobody dared say anything. There was a silence on the skiff while hundreds and thousands of lives ceased to exist in a matter of seconds.

The comforting tune in your head had suddenly turned into a blinding screech, rendering you frozen and flabbergasted. He did this, Aleksander did this. How could he do this? You tried to fight the heartrenderer off, squirming desperately in his arms to cover your ears from the slaughtering sounds. Your knees had given out by now and Alina was on the floor of the skiff, struggling to get up due to the heavy and awkward chains. I put them there.

'Today, we redraw all the maps. With the power of the Sun Summoner at my command, I control the Fold.' A sob erupted from your throat right at the minute you realized Alina was right. You didn't listen, this is all my fault. Ivan pulled you back up, roughly smacking a hand over your mouth to stop your pathetic cried of betrayal. You fought a little harder, trashing around in hopes of escaping his hold or at least getting someone's attention but nobody seemed to care. They all feared for their lives.

'All countries will answer to us. For who would oppose us now?' He briefly shot a look in your direction but spared you no emotion. It was then that you saw the real Aleksander, blood-thirsty for power and revenge. The Black Heretic.

Everything you are made you

Everything you aren't

The next five minutes were a complete blur. You somehow found yourself fighting for your life and those around you. Your head was empty of its usual whirling thoughts as survival mode kicked in. Kill or be killed. You stopped counting how many hits you got or how many bruises were forming on your body. It was primal and in your Grisha nature to protect those around you, and in that haste of battle you made your allegiance to Alina obvious.

There was no time to think about Aleksander. You weren't quite sure you wanted to think about him. He was on this skiff with you, on the opposing side that just murdered a town full of people yet the part of your brain, your imagination, craved to be by his side. To please him by obeying, to get his touch in return. You were addicted to the man who had ruined your innocence.

'You betrayed me' His voice was right behind you as was his hand, creeping up the side of your throat and forcefully pushing you against the barrier of the skiff, ready to throw you over to the unlit Fold.

'I betrayed you?!' Your shout was loud and hearty, overflowing with sadness and shame at being relieved for being next to him again. You clawed at his tightening hand, feeling your airways restrict and your vision become fainter and fainter. You would die at the hands of the man you loved.

'Look what you made me do Y/N, do you think I want to kill you?' Your head bopped but your stupid heart grasped at the sadness in his words, he still loves me. 'I don't want to. I really don't'

'Then don't' you chocked out, your hold on his wrists becoming limp. You felt the ever-so familiar touch of his lips grace your temple and then he retreated.

The world went dark but your body hit the deck of the skiff, not the soft sands of the Fold and your lungs abruptly filled with forced Squaller air.

Yes, I did it to myself, yeah

Thought you were somebody else

'What are you going to do now?' You still sat by the fire while everyone stood. Zoya had left your side and was talking with Alina but you filtered out the noise. Your head was too full of your own self-hatred to stand any more voices so Jesper's question to you went unnoticed. 'Y/N?'

You looked at him and shrugged. You didn't want to move, your body still ached too much from being dragged away from the brink of death to make your way somewhere safe.

You would never admit it around anyone, but as Alina spoke of the Darkling being dead, a wave of grief washed over you. It was cold and unpleasant; unwelcome. But you knew love didn't disappear overnight. You didn't know who saved you on the skiff, whether it was he who had let you go, or was it Zoya who battled to have you freed from his grasp.

As much as you had created the Aleksander you viewed, the foundations were all him, you had only added on or omitted the parts you did and didn't like. You prayed it was him who spared you, you prayed there was something real about your Aleksander, that that was a foundation.

The tears that fell down your face in a stream were assumed to be for the betrayal and the horridness of what the Darkling had done to you and others, when if fact they were for him. You cried because you would never see him again, you cried because the people who had helped you get out of the Fold were the same people who had killed him.

-------

When Mal caught your deathly stare in his direction, he had to do a double-take. You had the same look in your eyes as the General did when he fought him in the Fold, that exact replica of coldness and rage; revenge. But surely he was wrong. You were happy to know the Heretic was dead. He betrayed you the most out of everyone here and almost killed you. Why would you be vengeful?

He waved it off with a shake, it's all in my head.

------

Masterlist

Taglist (Tell me if you want to be added!)

@aleksanderwh0r3 @theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @lostysworld @0-artemis @exo-1204 @staradorned @bookfrog242 @simp-for-ben-barners @keepdaydreamingbb @acciorudolphx @pansysgirlfriend @justmesadgirl @rosiethefairy @partiesandblurrypolaroids @ashwarren32 @s1xthirty @toujurespure @misselsbells06

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dreamslesbian · 4 years ago

Text

just a little snippet of what i think a confrontation between Sapnap and Quackity would sound like (very scuffed bc i wanted to post it before today's lore rendered it useless)

/rp

The glass breaks behind him and then the only thing holding him upright is Sapnap's shaking grip on him.

"He's my brother Quackity, how–how could you possibly think I'd be okay with this–with you torturing him?!" Sapnap screams, hands burning holes into his shirt.

Quackity barely flinches at the heat against his skin but Sapnap seems surprised enough by his own outburst that he relaxes his grip enough for Quackity to push him away.

"Stop the dramatics will you?" he says, grimacing as he looks down. "Fuck me man, this shirt was expensive."

"Quackity," Sapnap snaps in what surely is meant to be a threatening voice but Quackity just rolls his eyes at him.

"You ask how?" he scoffs. "l'm going to be real honest with you pal. I've been going to the prison for months now and not once did I think you'd object to what I was doing."

"Months–?!"

"Yes, months and how many times did you check on him through it all? Oh that's right! Zero fucking times. From what I heard you even promised to kill him if he ever got out. You saw him isolated and starved and then threatened to end his life if he ever tried to escape! He was already being tortured before I ever came into the picture and you were okay with it, encouraged it even!"

"That's different I–" Sapnap tries to defend himself but Quackity waves him off.

"You didn't show you cared for months and now you want to act like I should've known you did all along?"

Suddenly, it's clear they aren't talking about Dream anymore.

"Is that what this is about? You tortured him to get back at me?" Sapnap accuses, eyes and body aflame with indignation and hurt.

Quackity clicks his tongue. "You aren't even listening," he sighs in mock dissappointment, "I just told you I didn't have any reason to think you cared at all. Why would I hurt him to hurt you?"

"Then why?"

Silence, oppressive and meaningful is all he gets as an answer.

"The revive book," he admits easily, "that knowledge couldn't just stay with Dream, not when it could help the server and not when he could use it to revive our worst enemies. Hell, he already brought Wilbur back. Want to guess who is next in the list?"

"All I've ever wanted is to protect us, to make this server a place we can all live in happily, peacefully, its the whole reason i built this country! So yeah, I did what I thought had to be done and it might've been extreme but its sure as hell more than whatever the fuck you all were doing! Pretending everything was okay, like that's ever fucking worked" he pauses, breathless.

He knows he's won the argument already by the look of Sapnap's face. Still he adds,

"Look if what you want is an apology then sure, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner okay? It escaped my mind honestly, but I'm sure you can understand that right?"

Sapnap has the decency to look ashamed before he tries to speak again, but Quackity has already lost all patience or interest in the conversation. He's said all he had to say so he turns around and presses the button to call security.

"Get out of my country Sapnap, I have things to do."

#quackity #sapnap #karlnapity #dsmp #dream smp #c!quackity #c!sapnap #c!quackity critical #c!sapnap critical #cw torture mention #my writing #istg i got possessed writing this ahsnd the idea just wouldnt leave me alone #i hate the ending bit but oh well abnd #anyone peep the c!q and c!dream parallels ? 👀

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

Text

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 23 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren woke with a start at the sound of something slamming to the point of cracking – a door thrown too hard, perhaps, or the shattering of a piece of furniture under the strength of a powerful cultivator.

Dazed at having been woken so abruptly at such a late hour, he at first thought that the sound was an aberration of some sort, someone making too much noise by mistake, even some cultivation maniac doing exercises in the middle of the night that had briefly lost control, but then the sounds continued, crashing and slamming and even indistinct shouting.

Indistinct, and unfamiliar, but still recognizable – that was Wen Ruohan’s voice.

Lan Qiren had never heard him shout before.

He stood up, instinctively checking over his clothing and fixing his forehead ribbon, and padded out towards the door to the hallway. The array used to create enough silence to let him sleep was glowing faintly, doing its work against overwhelming odds, but Lan Qiren didn’t hesitate to dismiss it and pull open the door, poking his head out to see what was going on.

“ – what use are you?” Wen Ruohan was shouting, some distance down the hall. “Good-for-nothing bitch! What do you think I got you for in the first place?”

He was standing outside his wife’s door.

Lan Qiren had not seen Madame Wen on this visit, other than in passing. He’d been relieved to discover that he had heard accurately and that she had not suffered on account of what she had done, except perhaps as a result of her husband making clear that he would give her exactly what he had promised her out of their marriage and nothing more. Despite that, every time she saw him, she generally had an expression that resembled smelling something bad, and he didn’t especially want to deal with her irrational jealousy.

(Lan Qiren could understand and even appreciate the truth that she had shown him, but it didn’t mean he appreciated the reasoning behind her actions - just as Wen Ruohan might appreciate the cunning and ambition demonstrated by her actions, and begrudgingly acknowledge that the real fault for their divide was his own actions, but not feel any more inclined to her as a result.)

Lan Qiren thought he might have to deal with her more, particularly on the few times he had visited little Wen Xu, who was already a size or two larger than he’d started out – it was simply shocking in terms of how much time had passed since he’d had his argument with Wen Ruohan – but he found that the child was largely being watched by servants, not the Madame, who was busy ruling the social scene of the Nightless City. Whether that was true or merely an excuse, by now it was clear that they were in mutual agreement that they did not want to spend any time in each other’s presence.

She was also, very clearly, refusing to let Wen Ruohan into her bedroom.

Lan Qiren couldn’t blame her: he’d never seen Wen Ruohan in a state like this. His clothing was mussed up, his hands clenched, his face red, his aura frighteningly strong and overwhelming, his monstrously powerful qi roiling the air in the hallway into an incipient storm – and even from the distance he was standing, Lan Qiren could smell the distinct odor of strong liquor, suggesting that Wen Ruohan had overindulged in alcohol at some point after Lan Qiren had gone to sleep. Based on casual mentions in prior conversation, Lan Qiren knew that Wen Ruohan’s cultivation level was so high as to render him largely unaffected even by significant drinking, but the fact that he had bothered to try to seek solace in the wine jar suggested that there was something incredibly wrong with his mental state.

It wasn’t a qi deviation - the violent emanations were unsettled, but not distorted - but it wasn’t good, either.

Wisdom would counsel that Lan Qiren keep back and not get in Wen Ruohan’s way.

Righteousness, on the other hand…

Anyway, Wen Ruohan was his sworn brother. What sort of brother would Lan Qiren be if he took only the good and not the bad?

“Da-ge?” he called, stepping out into the hallway. “Da-ge, come away from there.”

Wen Ruohan turned to him, and his expression was frightening. “Fine. You’ll do,” he growled, and it was only because Lan Qiren had grown wiser and stronger that he realized what was about to happen and dodged before Wen Ruohan could grab him, darting back into his room.

Wen Ruohan followed him in.

“What happened?” Lan Qiren asked, still backing away. “You were fine at dinner – what happened since then?”

For some reason, that set Wen Ruohan off again, turning his attention away from Lan Qiren, and he grabbed the table and threw it into the wall, smashing it all to pieces.

“That fucker,” he snarled, his eyes blank and distant. He wasn’t angry at Lan Qiren, that much was clear, but he was filled with ceaseless rage, and he was taking it out on everything around him. “That fucker got married! He’s got a son!”

Lan Qiren blinked. “…what?”

Smash went the cabinet, and all the various things on it. At least Wen Ruohan hadn’t started in on the paintings, which were the only aspect of the room Lan Qiren actually cared or worried about.

“Who got married and had a son?” Lan Qiren asked, even though he knew it would only inflame Wen Ruohan further. At this point, it was clear that Wen Ruohan’s had gotten stuck in his chest, like black blood that needed to be coughed; he needed to vent his anger or else it would curdle within him and he would suffer. “Normally that’s a good thing, a cause for celebration. Why is it bad here?”

“Because it’s Lao Nie!” Wen Ruohan burst out, and Lan Qiren rocked back on his heels in shock.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t known that Lao Nie had been unusually distracted these past few months, even most of a year – the way he’d ignored or disregarded Lan Qiren’s letters about the situation with He Kexin, the breezy and almost manic tone of his replies to Lan Qiren’s brother, which Lan Qiren had seen, it all spoke of distraction and carelessness, all typical of Lao Nie, albeit of far greater severity than usual.

Nor was it truly a surprise that none of them had been informed: the Qinghe Nie had always been idiosyncratic about their personal details, unusually secretive and fiercely proud of it. They did not share their birth date or even year, other than for arranging a marriage. If Lan Qiren had thought about it, he wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find out that Lao Nie would have married and had a child all without having shared any information on the subject until afterwards.

Only…

“But aren’t you – with him?” he asked, and knew immediately that he had asked the wrong question.

Wen Ruohan roared and smashed yet another thing, sending a palm strike through a dresser and denting the stone wall with the power of it. “He’s mine,” he spat. His eyes were even redder than usual, the sclera becoming red alongside the iris; it made him look almost possessed, almost as if he really were having some sort of qi deviation. “He’s mine, damn it! Who is he to give himself to another? And he didn’t even tell me…!”

They were definitely in a relationship, Lan Qiren confirmed to himself. His guess had been right. There could be no doubt about it. And yet, despite it all, Lao Nie had –

No, he couldn’t even express surprise. Lan Qiren knew Lao Nie, knew what he valued and how he valued it: Lao Nie had always been passionate and powerful, strong and superior, friendly and often kind, and yet at his core he was ruthless, careless, and selfish, just like Wen Ruohan was so often selfish. He did not concern himself overmuch with questions of righteousness, other than to the degree necessary to win glory to his sect as one on the righteous path. After his sect, which he valued most of all, he was an indolent pleasure-seeker, with terrible taste in partners, the more dangerous the better; Lan Qiren had seen him flirting with people left and right long after he’d concluded that he’d entered into a relationship with Wen Ruohan.

In the past, Wen Ruohan hadn’t seemed to mind. If anything, he’d even encouraged him, looking smug and amused by the flirtations, taking the other man’s victories as his own; during one incident that Lan Qiren could recall, he’d all but applauded when Lao Nie had successfully wooed some rogue cultivator and taken her back to his bed, turning instead to his own separate amusements after.

Then again, that wasn’t a marriage.

(Of course, Wen Ruohan himself had also gotten married…)

“How dare he,” Wen Ruohan said, panting a little from his own exertion, clearly more moved by the feelings raging within him than any type of physical exhaustion. “How dare he – does he think I’m desperate? Pathetic? Does he think I’d run after him, begging and humiliating myself..? I don’t need him at all!”

He turned once more, and this time his gaze focused on Lan Qiren.

“I have something of my own already,” he murmured, and this time Lan Qiren wasn’t fast enough to stop him as he caught him up in his arms, slamming his back against the wall.

Lan Qiren tensed, suddenly for a moment back in his rooms in the Cloud Recesses, looking up at a different brother who wanted to hurt him – but no, Wen Ruohan wasn’t the same, Wen Ruohan liked him. He was acting out of fury, not malice; there was no He Kexin here to goad him on, nothing like that.

Even the force of being pushed against the wall hadn’t actually hurt – Wen Ruohan had been careful even in his mindless rage, making sure that any impact was cushioned by his own arms rather than Lan Qiren’s back; Lan Qiren hadn’t even had the breath knocked out of him.

“Da-ge…!”

Wen Ruohan didn’t want to hear him. He put his hand on Lan Qiren’s mouth and pressed down, cutting off speech at once. They were pressed together so closely that the movement inadvertently dragged his sleeve onto Lan Qiren’s throat, almost making him gag, and he instinctively tried futilely to kick his way out – it didn’t work, of course.

Wen Ruohan pressed up against him, the front of his body burning like flame against Lan Qiren.

“You’re mine,” he said, reaching in to nuzzle the side of Lan Qiren’s head with his cheek. “My blood brother, bound by oath and blood; my shining pearl, untouched by the world. All good things should belong to me.”

Lan Qiren reached up to try to push away the hand at this mouth, wanting to speak even though he did not know what he would say, and at first he thought he’d done it. But then suddenly he was in motion, his back landing hard on the bed he’d been given, the impact softened by the blanket Wen Ruohan had wrapped around him when he’d brought him back to the Nightless City from the Cloud Recesses. Shocked by the unexpectedness of the abrupt movement, he gasped, a wordless inhale rather than any coherent words.

Less than a heartbeat, and Wen Ruohan was on top of him, pressing him down. His body seemed even hotter than usual, as if his whole spirit were aflame, his qi boiling in the air around them until Lan Qiren had the impression as though he ought to be able to see steam; his hands were hot where they pressed down on Lan Qiren’s shoulders, his lips burning as they pressed against his collarbone, and between his legs there was something hot pressing against him, too.

And still, Lan Qiren – was not afraid.

He wasn’t sure why. He’d been terrified when it had been his brother who had stood against him, disgusted when it had been He Kexin pawing at him in ways he did not and had never wanted, but Wen Ruohan, who was bound to him through nothing but a tricked oath…

“Da-ge,” he whispered. “Please stop.”

Wen Ruohan stilled. He didn’t get up or pull away, but he didn’t make any further movements.

“Please let me go.”

Wen Ruohan’s breathing was harsh in his ear. “You, too, little Lan?” he asked. “Just like him, making me think – don’t you like me?”

“I do,” Lan Qiren admitted. He might be stupid when it came to social interactions, might be slow and miss things that were obvious, but even he could figure out what Wen Ruohan meant, with his confession of how Lan Qiren lingered in his thoughts and in pressing him down on the bed like this while mourning the loss of Lao Nie, his lover. And maybe sometimes he needed Cangse Sanren to point things out to him, but most of the time he knew himself. This past week had made clear enough that he enjoyed Wen Ruohan’s endless indulgences in a spirit that was more than just pure brotherhood. “I do like you. But I don’t like – this.”

Wen Ruohan was silent for a long moment.

“Not this, with me,” he finally said. “Or not – at all?”

“At all,” Lan Qiren said. He had thought when he was younger that he might change, but he was increasingly sure that he wouldn’t, that this was just what he was like. “I was never like the others my age. Even Yueheng-xiong, who I would’ve thought loved nothing but mathematics and explosions, has found himself distracted by the shape of the one he likes. But not me. I don’t yearn the way they do. I can love a person’s spirit, but I never much cared for the flesh.”

“Love,” Wen Ruohan echoed, his voice oddly uneven. “You speak of - love?”

“…isn’t that what we’re talking about?”

Wen Ruohan laughed, a jagged and choked up thing, and then he pulled away, letting Lan Qiren go, sitting up on the bed and burying his face in his hands. The qi around him was still too-hot, overwhelming, pulsing with his feelings, even as his shoulders shook and he stared blankly at the wall; any other man, and Lan Qiren might think he was crying, but he could see Wen Ruohan’s face through his fingers, and there were no tears there.

Perhaps he’d forgotten how.

Lan Qiren slowly sat up himself.

He could still feel the mild stiffness of old healing injuries, but he ignored them and got up off the bed, going to the one side table that had yet to be destroyed – the one where he’d laid his guqin to rest. It turned out that Wen Ruohan had only destroyed the things he himself had put into the room; he hadn’t touched anything of Lan Qiren’s.

Lan Qiren settled in front of his guqin and began to play.

Out of all the compositions he had created, his favorite was the one he had first created at the Nightless City, that strange hypnotic melody that brought to mind spilled pearls, but unlike some of the others he’d worked on, it had never felt fully completed. The music wrapped itself around the listener, at first intimate and then oppressive, a heavy stone in their chest and pressure on their skull, growing darker and darker, just as he’d written it – but now he played onwards, elaborating on the theme in ways he hadn’t planned or expected, letting the solemn notes brighten, the overwhelming pressure turning from suffocating into safe as it became clear that it would cause no harm, the storm passing by overhead and leaving things clean and clear and better, the lingering euphoria of finding oneself supported, rather than alone.

When his fingers finally stilled, Lan Qiren looked up and saw Wen Ruohan sitting there with his back straight again, hands resting gently in his lap, eyes closed as if in meditation and face calm once more. His qi no longer coiled around him, lashing out; it had settled once more.

“You will,” Wen Ruohan said without opening his eyes, “be an excellent traveling musician, little Lan. People will fight for the right to hear you, and you will never go without an audience.”

Lan Qiren hesitated, not sure what to make of such a compliment, or what Wen Ruohan meant by it. He’d only intended to play something to help him settle his qi and soothe his rage, which he’d clearly accomplished. He hadn’t even meant to play that particular song, other than in the way that he tended to default to it when he had nothing else specific in mind. It had always been unsatisfying, like an itch, but now it finally felt complete.

“Da-ge –” he started to say, not knowing what he would say next, but at any rate he never had the chance to continue.

“When you do finally go to fulfill your dreams, leaving the dust of the world behind you, I hope that you visit the Nightless City often,” Wen Ruohan said. His tone was still calm, settled, but not, Lan Qiren observed, peaceful: there were all sorts of seething emotions underneath it. “But for the moment, I think it is better if you return to the Cloud Recesses.”

Lan Qiren hesitated once again, this time feeling a little hurt. “You don’t want me here?”

“I do,” Wen Ruohan said, and his lips curved into something that was not a smile; it seemed almost painful a shape to contort into, and his eyes reflected no humor at all when he opened them. “Very much. Ah, little Lan, if only you knew…despite that, I would still have you go. Having made my views on you clear to your brother, it should be safe, and I do not want you to see what beast I make of myself when I am denied.”

Lan Qiren bowed his head a little. “About Lao Nie…”

“I know what he’s like,” Wen Ruohan said. “I’ve always known, from the start. If you had asked me a few days ago, I would have said that I did not have any illusions…”

He smiled bitterly.

“It seems that I misjudged myself.”

“I’ll go,” Lan Qiren said. He didn’t especially want to, but Wen Ruohan wasn’t in a rage, nor lashing out unthinkingly. To refuse him would be to deny him, to treat him as if he could not make his own decisions, and that, he thought, would be worse. “If you want me to, I’ll go, and later, I’ll return.”

Wen Ruohan said nothing, but he watched as Lan Qiren pulled on some more clothing, not caring which one it was, and did his hair back up in the simplest style, favoring speed over substance; he packed away his guqin and his sword and one of the paintings that he had liked best, but took nothing else – after all, it wasn’t as if he were going away for good.

He made it to the door before hesitating, then turned back to look at Wen Ruohan, who was still watching him.

“Is there anything…?” he asked haltingly. “Something I can get you…?”

“Send one of the maids to me,” Wen Ruohan said. “Any of them, it doesn’t matter which. If they’re still hanging around in the family quarters after an eruption like that, it can be seen that their ambition has overcome their good sense, making them a perfect match for me. It would be a shame to deny them the fruits of their victory.”

Lan Qiren didn’t quite understand, but he knew enough to get the gist; he felt his cheeks and ears go hot. Still, he had offered, and it wasn’t something he was willing to do himself, so there was really no basis for refusing to pass along the request. He nodded and slipped out – as Wen Ruohan predicted, there was one of the maids lingering at the far corner, looking around in blatant curiosity. She was pretty enough, Lan Qiren supposed, with an upturned nose and a slightly arrogant air, her clothing carefully arranged to be just a little mussed in a way that Lan Qiren understood most men to find attractive.

“Your sect leader is in my room,” he told her, and she blinked at him. “If you go to him now, he’d probably accept. Up to you, though.”

She stared at him for a moment, then nodded. He left, his head held high; when he glanced back anyway, he saw her going into his room, hair patted down and clothing even more carefully arranged – Wen Ruohan hadn’t been wrong when he speculated as to her ambitions. The life of a powerful sect leader, Lan Qiren supposed: desired but never known, as distant from those around him as Lan Qiren but as a consequence of his position rather than his inclination.

He would definitely return, Lan Qiren decided. Perhaps he would even make the Nightless City the first destination on his travels. After all, why should he not? Was Wen Ruohan not his sworn brother, too?

Yes, Lan Qiren thought. That was right.

Wen Ruohan deserved to have someone possess him as he longed to possess others.

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

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diaryofabeautyfiend · 4 years ago

Text

It Had to be Witches

Dean and Sam are on a hunt at Rowena’s request. When Sam is out of commission, Dean has to work with you.

Warnings: Unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it!) male oral receiving, fingering, mention’s of witchcraft, brief mentions of ritual style murders, brief mention of animal sacrifice, Dean is a sad boy.

Word count: 3567

All written and proofread (poorly) by me. All mistakes are my own. Please don’t copy or repost my work. Likes are great and I’ll love you forever if you repost and comment. Thanks for reading.

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Sam and Dr. Philips examined each of the women’s bodies. Carved into their limbs were runes consistent with the ones Rowena described. She said she was sending an expert who lived in the area but the boys hadn’t made contact yet.

“The other agent who was just here asked the same questions. Don’t you guys talk to each other?” Dr. Philips covered the bodies. Some of the women he knew personally.

“Different departments. You said he was just here? How long ago?”

“She. Her name is Diana Luna. She’s down at the evidence locker. All the women had the same necklace. She went to check it out.”

Sam thanked the doctor and set off to find you. First he called Dean. “Looks like Rowena’s story checks out. Her expert was just here. The bodies were marked with runes and all of their tongues cut out. And, get this, they all had the same necklace. Maybe a coven?”

“Of course. Of course it’s witches, Sam. Look, don’t go far. I’m on my way.” Sam was sitting on a bus bench reading coroner's reports when you approached him. Due to the nature of the case, Rowena insisted the elder Winchester carry out the task at hand. “Use Sam as bait.” she instructed.

“Agent Cornell? I’m agent Luna from the Lansing office.” You extended your hand. “Director Macleod sent me.”

“Yeah, I bet she did. Bring me up to speed.”

“Sure. I’ve got what you’re looking for right here.” You blew a very potent powder in his face knocking him out. You put the lankier Winchester into your truck and sped back to your house. Getting his dead weight up the stairs was a task but you did it. “Sweet dreams, Sam.”

Dean searched the entire town square for Sam with no luck. He tried his phone again and it was going directly to voicemail. Sam could hold his own against any witch but Dean was still worried. As he unlocked the door to the Impala, he heard you call his name over his shoulder and turned his head to see who was speaking. You blew the dream dust into his face rendering him unconscious.

He was heavier than he looked. You shoved him into the back seat and pried the keys from his hand. Baby growled angrily when she started but you had her purring for you in no time. You drove him back to your house and dragged him inside where you intended to tie him up. Rowena coached you on all their tricks. You took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and divested him if anything sharp. With his wrists and ankles bound in a pretty decent slip knot you splashed his face with water to wake him.

“Morning, handsome.” he smirked as you wiped his face.

“Big mistake, sweetheart. I’m guessing you’re the one we’re looking for.”

“Pretty and dumb. Rowena was right and you would be guessing wrong. Her name is Teresa Wilson. She came seeking asylum with our coven a few months ago. Said her whole order was obliterated. Turns out, she wasn’t exactly who she said she was.”

His face split into a cocky grin, “They never are. What do you want with me?”

“You need to help me find her. Rowena gave me a locator spell. When I cast the spell, I’ll need your fancy bullets. Problem is…”

He laughed heartily, “Problem is you can’t touch ‘em, am I right, sweetheart?”

“You would be correct.”

“And what’s in it for me?”

You took a step back just out of his reach just in case, “If you help me I’ll let your brother live.”

He strained against the ropes veins bulging in his forearms. “If you touch one hair on his head I’ll rip you apart myself. You hear me, witch?”

Your nails dug sharp into the meat of his cheeks so he would look at you. “Relax, baby. Your brother is safe. He’s asleep upstairs dreaming of puppies and rainbows as we speak. But if you don’t help me, he’ll never wake up. And, Dean, when I kill someone, it sticks. No resurrections for Sammy this time.”

You’ve never seen a human man snarl before. It was pretty cute. Rowena warned you not to be mesmerized by his sweet face and his Disney Princess eyes but you couldn’t help it. The man looked like he would, in fact, rip you apart. And, Hecate help you, you wished he would. You traced a finger along his sharp stubble covered jaw. His eyes turned up to look into yours, throwing daggers at you. “Anyone ever tell you how cute you are when you’re angry?”

“All the time. Get to the spell so I can take my brother out of here.” he growled.

“It’s not time. If I untie you, are you gonna be a good boy or do I have to hit you with my knock out dust again?” You couldn’t take your eyes off of his perfect lips smiling at you.

“Sure, mommy, I’ll be a real good boy.”

You knelt in front of him and parted his knees slightly to undo the first knot. “Such a smart ass.” He growled low in his throat when you peered at him through your lashes. His dick grew painfully hard against his jeans as you slid your hand up his legs to maintain balance. Of course you noticed though he tried to squeeze his thighs together to hide his arousal. “Do you like me like this, Dean?”

Of course he did. You were just his type. A little bratty but you had a good heart. Rowena told them about you. The little warrior for the Grand Council. They constantly sent you to do their dirty work and you did so without question like a good soldier. No wonder Rowena paired the two of you. You were the female version of him. “Like what?” His voice was low and dripping with need.

“On my knees for you. Looks like you do.” You winked at him but he looked away embarrassed.

It had been a long time since he felt a woman wrapped hot around him. Everything in him wanted to follow your siren song and happily crash. He couldn’t do it. This story always ended bloody. “You couldn’t handle it, sweetheart.” He peered down at the bulge in his pants. So did you. Your core heated at the thought.

“Is that a dare or a double dare?.” He spread his legs and licked his lips inviting you to take what you wanted. You shook it off and focused on the task at hand. “Well in any case, I made you dinner. Pot roast, potatoes, peas and carrots. Eat if you want.”

It did smell amazing. His stomach growled remembering that all he had was coffee this morning. The living room and kitchen were well lit and warm. He felt at peace in this place. More so than the bunker where it could sometimes feel clinical and cold. “You got a pretty nice place here. You all alone?”

A sly smile played on your lips, “Just me.” You sat the plate down in front of him with a cold beer and a bottle opener. The oven timer dinged and, when you opened the door, the aroma of cinnamon and spice wafted through the air.

“That pie?” He sounded choked up.

“Apple. I have an orchard in the back. Rowena filled me in on how to keep you happy.” You sit it on the windowsill to cool while you ate. “I can’t have you bashing me over the head and running off before we kill this bitch.”

He shoveled a fork full of potatoes and gravy into his mouth humming in appreciation. “Why me? You had Sam here. He’s much better at this witch stuff than I am. Why drag me out here?”

“You’re more reliable when making difficult decisions. You’re what I need. Another beer?” He nodded breathing in the soft floral scent that wafted off of your skin as you moved.

You didn’t offer any further information and Dean thought that was probably for the best. If he got in his head about the situation he would lose his nerve and that can’t happen. That’s how people die. As of late, Sam has had a lot on his mind. Dean would have to shoulder this burden. At least Sammy was getting some rest.

The two of you shared a comfortable silence only marred by silverware hitting ceramic. “Well that was delicious. Thank you….umm…I don’t think I caught your name.”

“I didn’t give it to you. I’m Y/N. But I wouldn’t mind if you kept calling me sweetheart. Pie?”

Dean's heart beat hard in his chest at the thought of calling you sweetheart “Maybe a little. So when do we do this thing?”

“Eat your pie then meet me outside. I have to prepare.” You slipped out the back door down a dimly lit path to your cauldron. You threw in the mandrake and tobacco. Last was the chicken that you had to slaughter. You grabbed a hen from her coop and stabbed her with your athame. It made a terrible sound which sent Dean flying through the back door ready to fight.

“What the hell was that?”

“Chicken.” You allowed the rest of its blood to drain and discarded the carcass. “periisti. lates. Ego te quaero. I vestrum adprehendet vos.” You chanted over and over until a glowing beacon appeared. “We have to follow it.” The orb circled the two of you then floated towards the Impala. You retrieved his keys from your pocket and started off for the car.

“Whoa whoa whoa. What are you doing?”

“Following the orb.” He grabbed your arm as you started to slide into the driver’s seat.

“No one drives my baby but me. You sit shotgun.” He impatiently waited for you to scoot over. When you reached for the radio he slapped your hand away. “Are you serious?!”

“What? There were other decades besides the 70’s.” He bit his lip and flared his nostrils letting out an unsettling growl. “Driver picks the music.”

“You are a child. Just drive. The spell won’t last forever” you huffed.

“So, just you huh? No boyfriend? Girlfriend?” You didn’t answer keeping your eyes trained on the orb. “Yeah me neither. Maybe later we can grab a drink.”

“My god. Can you keep it in your pants until we’re done? It took a left!”

He sped up taking off after it, “I see it. So that’s not a no.” That was all the invitation he needed. The truth was you would have given it up the moment those green eyes stared into your soul.

“It’s not a no. Let’s focus.”

Baby ate up miles of dirt road before reaching the highway. A couple of miles ahead the orb sped for an exit into town. You were led to the motel where the boys were staying. The door to their room was wide open and there Teresa stood bathed in the light of the orb. You bid it a job well done and sent it on its way.

Teresa, caught off guard, quickly muttered a spell pinning Dean to the wall, sending the gun skittering away. You faced each other down while Dean struggled. “She’s a kid!” he groaned in pain.

“I’m nineteen thank you. You don’t have to do this Y/N. Come on. We’re sisters. We share the same DNA. Let’s take them on together.” Tears welled in your eyes. You may have been blood but you weren’t sisters. She grew up far out of the Grand Council’s reach while you were their trained lap dog.

“Only half little sister. You’re hopped up on enough stolen magic to power the entire city. The Grand Council sent me to take you down. Adiuro te in nomine Hecate. Adiuro te in nomine Dianae. Tuae vires cum luna decrescant.” you chanted. She fought back but the binding spell was powerful. She didn’t have enough magic to hold Dean and fight you so she let him go. When he regained composure, he dove for the gun.

Without warning, Teresa gained the upper hand. She held out her arm and used all of her might to pull you towards her. Blood stained tears fell from your eyes as you struggled to breath. With every last ounce of strength you had you doubled down on the binding spell long enough to hold her so that Dean could put her down. The blast of the shot filled the small motel room filling your ears with a high pitched whining. You collapsed onto the floor where Dean scooped you into his arms.

“Hey, Y/N. Wake up. Stay with me. Shit.” He carried you to the car and gingerly set you down next to him. The drive back to your house felt long. When he got you inside he placed you on the couch and called Rowena.

“Is it done then?” she asked in her thick Scottish brogue.

“Yeah but your girl’s unconscious. She’s breathing but she used a lot of magic. A lot. I don’t think you’ll be calling on her anytime soon.”

“Keep her warm, Dean. I’ll be there soon.” The line went dead. He sat on the floor in front of you and brushed your hair from your eyes.

“Sweetheart, you need to wake up. We were supposed to grab that drink, remember?” He pressed his lips to your temple lingering there for a moment when he heard Rowena’s laugh trill behind him.

“I should add matchmaker to my long list of talents. Out of the way, Dean. I’ll get your girl fixed right up.” She patted his hand and pushed him aside.

His face flushes hot burning all the way to his ears. ”She’s not my girl.”

“Of course. Now, what seems to be the trouble, dear?” She placed her hands on your head. Her eyes glowed as she spoke over you. Your lashes began to flutter and you woke up. “There she is. Good as new.” You and Dean exchanged a look. “That appears to be my cue to go check on Samuel.”

“Thank you, Rowena.” your voice was hoarse barely above a whisper.

“Not at all, dear.”

Dean pulled you into his lap rocking you gently, “You scared the hell out of me, sweetheart.”

“I had to stop her. She hurt too many people.” You felt guilty for ending her but even guiltier for letting her go as far as she did. Guiltier still for not pushing harder to be in her life. “It was my fault.”

“Hey, no it wasn’t. What? You think you should have been a better big sister? You didn’t lead her down this path, Y/N.” You rested your head on his shoulder “All these years and all the stupid fucked up shit Sam and I did, I blamed myself. I took on that burden. Alone. It’s a lonely awful place to be. I’m begging don’t do that to yourself.” He held your face in his hands forcing you to look at him. He wanted to kiss you. You would have let him if he leaned in. Instead he brought you back down to his chest just to hold you. He saw so much of himself in you. You were headstrong and self righteous but your intentions were altruistic.

You melted into his arms so lost in him that you didn’t hear Sam and Rowena slip out. Dean offered his brother only a small nod to let him know you were ok. He had several texts from Eileen anyway. Happy to see his brother didn’t have to spend another night alone, he went back to the bunker.

You sat in silence for a while when you started yawning. “Shit. What time is it?”

“After midnight. I should get outta here.” You untangled yourself from his grasp but didn’t stand. His hands stayed respectfully at the small of your back. You locked eyes with him. Your core tingled as he brushed errant hair from your forehead.

“Or you could stay. We haven’t had our drink yet. Though, you don’t need to get me drunk, handsome.” You kissed his jaw and down his neck working your way to his collarbone. A soft moan escaped his lips when you nipped at his neck. “I mean you enjoyed me on my knees and all.”

“As pretty as you looked,” his voice was low and gravelly, “And, I mean you looked gorgeous. We really shouldn’t.”

You genuinely pouted your lips backing off of your ministrations, “Why not? I want to. And you clearly want to. You’re a fucking legend, Dean. Show me just how legendary you are.”

He arched a brow at you and smirked in the way that only Dean Winchester does. “Flattery will get you everywhere, sweetheart.” Finally his lips were on yours. The force of his kiss took your breath away. It wasn’t predatory or greedy. It was slow and sensuous bordering on hunger. His whole body was hungry for you. Dean Winchester was hungry constantly looking for something to fill the hole inside him. For the moment, that was you. He felt like he was floating and was suddenly very warm. If he stopped kissing you he knew he would just stop breathing. He couldn’t bare the thought.

“What are you doing to me?” His chest heaved. “I feel like I’m on fire.” Surely this must be a spell or enchantment. He pulled you back in for more but this time his hands strayed from your back. They traveled to your hips then under the hem of your shirt to feel your flesh warm against him. He had to feel you. To be inside of you. Deft fingers unbuttoned your jeans. Without breaking the kiss he stroked your clothed core working up a rhythm that flooded you with arousal.

“Touch me, Dean. Please” you cried. Pushing your panties aside his fingers explored your dripping pussy. His pace is maddening. Your hips snapped fucking back hard. “Fuck, Dean. So good. I need your cock. Want you to split ne open.”

“You’ve got a filthy mouth, Princess. Come for me and I’ll give you what you want.” And so you gushed around him moaning like a witch on fire. When your heart slowed to a normal rhythm you stripped naked. Before he could get undressed he took a moment to kiss and touch every inch of you. If this was only for tonight he wanted to savor you. “God you’re beautiful.”

“So are you.” You pulled him up and undressed him, never once breaking eye contact. His cock was red and weeping just aching to be touched.

On your knees in front of him you took the whole burning thing in your mouth. To Dean, you were the most stunning creature to exist. You swirled your tongue around the head while you hollowed your cheeks sucking him in deeper still.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Fuck that feels good.” His hands grasped the back of your head keeping you steady while he fucked your face. It started feeling too good like he would blow his load in your mouth. He had to feel your sweet cunt. “Let me feel you, baby. Fuck I need you.” You pulled off with a pop and climed into his lap. Both of you whimpered when you sank onto his length. The stretch was exquisite. Your pussy held him so tight. You ground your clit over his pubic bone while he fucked into you with a brutal pace. “You feel so good. M’not gonna last. Come for me, baby. I need it.” Your twat fluttered around him, milking him for all he was worth. You kissed once more fighting to hang on to the last tendrils of tenderness and warmth that you could.

“Stay. Please. Just for tonight” you whispered.

He tightened his grip on you. “Of course, sweetheart. All night.”

He hated to leave you but the sun rose like a beacon calling him away. If he didn’t leave then, he wouldn’t have ever left. Last time he stuck around and fell in love, he had to learn the hard way that he could never have this. Maybe he would call you the next time he swung through town. Maybe you’d spit in his face for bailing. He brushed the hair off your forehead and kissed your temple. “Bye, sweetheart.”

You woke when you heard the Impala roaring to life in your driveway. He left a square of paper with a phone number scrawled in pencil “I’ll always answer. -DW” You put on your robe, went down to your cauldron and threw it in with a few bundles of sage and some witch hazel to sever any feelings. On the next full moon, you’d do a cord cutting to make sure it sticks.

“See you around, handsome.” In his eleven hour drive back to the bunker, any feelings that you have would slowly fade. The two of you would go back to being too afraid to feel and far too afraid to fall in love. Dean wouldn’t hear from you again. He wouldn’t really remember where you lived. But, every time he drove through Michigan, he’d feel a twinge in his chest. And, no matter how many rituals you did, you’d feel him too.

#sam and dean #dean winchester #dean winchester angst #dean winchester smut #Dean Winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x witch reader

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heavenlydevine · 4 years ago

Note

From the prompt list please do 28. “No, I checked my receipt. I didn’t buy any of your bullshit.” with Bruce Wayne I think that would be so funny ffsshjngk

Bruce Wayne [DCEU/Affleck] x Female!Reader.

Warnings: Language. And sexual references. Slight domination if you squint.

As you wanted Affleck, I couldn't imagine him finding it amusing. His portrayal of Bruce Wayne took on a far more darker side than what Bale gave us. So I hope this is what you had in mind.

Don’t fuck up.

Those were the parting words your father had uttered to you after announcing that he had gotten you the opportunity of a lifetime, and loathe you were to admit it, working for Wayne Enterprises had its perks.

Though most would frown upon your job description, you had taken it with stride, as there were far worse jobs in the business than being an errand girl—true meaning, coffee girl.

You didn’t mind the up and down, back and forth—and though it had taken you no less than three weeks to learn just how everyone preferred their coffees, you often wondered whether it would be the only thing you’d be doing.

And then just three months into your new job, you had done the one thing your father had urged you not to do. You fucked up.

But could one consider it a fuck up if you managed to become the personal assistant of the one and only Bruce Wayne? You had never met the man before, yet you had heard enough to know that he was a respectable man with a take no nonsense persona, and yet nothing could have been further from the truth.

Bruce Wayne might have been a gentle, caring man to the public, but to you, no, to you he was much more than that. Your first encounter would be a memory you’d often cherish, the remnants of your coffee tarnishing to what appeared to be a rather expensive suit, and though you had expected him to give you a verbal lashing, fire you on the spot, he had simply looked at you and smiled.

“Guess this gives me a reason to shower.”

And you didn’t know whether to be flustered or mortified, his laughter ringing through your mind—and it was then that you realized that the man was insanely attractive, the steaks of gray hairs scattered about his dark brown hair an added bonus.

You cannot remember when your relationship with the eccentric billionaire had changed from employer and employee, to whatever the fuck this was. This wasn’t the first time you found yourself stripped bare in his office, spread across his desk as he pounded into you from behind.

No.

He had made sure that you understood the significance behind the relationship you two shared—you were his and his alone, to do with whatever he pleased.

And you couldn’t find the notion to actually care.

He was never rough with you, yet you knew the man kept himself at bay—as you’d catch a glimpse of the darkness lingering behind his eyes whenever you’d catch him staring at you from afar, the obvious glint of desire swimming within his orbs a haunting reminder that this was not what you had imagined your life becoming.

And now, as you stood in the quaint, yet spacious room with everyone’s attention focused on you and you alone, you knew you had crossed the line. Never before had you been late to a board meeting, and as this was held annually every year in consideration as to which direction the company was heading, you knew no explanation could ever trump the wrath that emitted from Bruce Wayne.

“This meeting is adjourned,” never once did he take his eyes off you, and for a fleeting moment as the room burst in an abundance of activities, men and women alike murmuring amongst each other, whilst others gave you a sympathetic glance and a pat on the shoulder, you knew you fucked up, “—I’ll expect everyone’s reports on my table my Monday morning.”

And then silence.

Heart pounding in your chest, eyes wide as you continued to hold your iced coffee in trembling hands, you couldn’t help but shudder in fear as the doors behind you closed with a loud thunk and the blinds zipped tighter, encasing the room with a darkened hue despite the sunlight streaming through the large windows that gave view to the bustling streets below. “I can explain..”

“I don’t want to fucking hear your excuses,” he had never spoken to you in such a way, and though it did unspeakable things to your neither regions, your thighs pressing against one another, “—it’s irrelevant to me. This meeting, as you know, consisted out of people who sponsor this company, as well as the Wayne Foundation. So imagine what they must think of me,” and then your heart seized to function.

Bruce Wayne was pissed.

Because the sight of him loosening his tie, jacket now discarded and hanging across the chair, was an image you had often entertained at night, whispers or sinful things echoing through your mind at the thought of him unleashing the seven hells upon you, “—when my beautiful little assistant barges into the room like a bat out of hell, looking like she just ran a fucking marathon, four hours late, when she should have been the first one to arrive. I had to organize my own papers. I had to do everything myself, so remind me why I pay you?”

And then the rage sparked within your chest, your mouth opening and closing, and with a single thought running through your mind, you threw caution to the wind and leveled him with a look that would make any respectable man tremble yin fear, “Well excuse me, your highness,” his eyebrows rose in surprise, a look of fury following soon after, and yet as it lingered at the forefront of your mind that you were crossing your boundaries, you were far to lost in your own anger to give a shit what he or anyone else thought of you.

“You were the one that made me run around like a headless chicken. You made me drive all the way to the docks to secure the shipment that came in, and then you had me drive all the way back to the manor to get your precious files—which I organized, and on top of it all, you had me miss the deadline for my article and had me stuck in traffic for almost two hours,” you pointed an accusing finger at him, never realizing that you had moved closer to him, “—so in hindsight, you are the one that should apologize to me, after all, you were the one that insisted I wait in a que of more than twelve people to get your precious decaf.”

“Are you done?”

And then you just had to say it. “No, I checked my receipts. I didn’t buy any of your bullshit,” and with the goal to turn around and leave, the gasp of surprise that slipped past your lips was swallowed by his lips smashing against yours, arms encasing you in a tight embrace, immobilizing you and rendering you a quivering mess.

“You are going to regret taking that tone with me,” he murmured, pupils blown wide, “—so I’ll show you what happens to insolent little brats who talk back to their superiors.”

And then he was pushing you backwards, lips still attached to yours with the intention to suck all the air from your lungs. “I’m going to ruin you and you are going to take it.”

And ruin you he did.

Squeezing your waist in confirmation, a silent desperation to feel you submit to his advances, all rational thought flew out your mind, “Just fuck me, Bruce.”

His control vanished the moment your words echoed through his ears. “Be careful what you wish for.”

I stopped here, as I wasn’t entirely sure whether I should delve further down citrus lane. Though should you want another part to this, a continuation to this, then feel free to request another prompt. I’m sorry it took so long. Hope you liked it.

#Bruce Wayne x Reader #Bruce Wayne x You #Bruce Wayne Imagine #Batman #Affleck

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dumdumsun · 4 years ago

Text

Of Starlight

A/N: Enjoy ❤️

Warnings: none that I’m aware of

Word Count: 2912

—————————————

Chapter 18: What Would Have Happened

It happened so quickly. One minute, Hazel had shown up to the mansion with the desire to help the family with the prevention of the apocalypse, then next minute, Five was watching Diego and Hazel fight before him for almost a full forty five seconds. Punches and kicks were thrown, blood was drawn, but Five decided to step in when Diego clamped his teeth down on Hazel’s ear. Setting his margarita down on the bar, Five blinked behind his brother with a glass vase before smashing it down on his head, the vigilante collapsing to the ground, unconscious. “I draw the line at biting.” He remarked as he made his way back over to the bar. He glanced over at Hazel, who was groaning and nursing his ear. “Hazel, whatever you came here to say, I suggest you make it quick, before he comes ‘round.”

“I left my partner, quit the Commission, came to volunteer.”

“For what?” Five returned to his seat at the bar, picking up his drink.

“To help stop the apocalypse.” Hazel swiped glass off of his shoulder. The man earned a chuckle from the boy as he sipped on his drink. Hazel frowned. “What on earth could be so funny to you right now?”

“Before I answer that, why do you wanna help us?”

Hazel took a deep breath and straightened his posture. “Let’s just say I have a vested interest in a doughnut shop.” Whatever that meant. Five smiled as he took his straw out of his mouth.

“Well, I hate to break it to you, pal, but you’re a day late and a dollar short. The fact that you’re here right now means, without a shadow of a doubt, the apocalypse is over.”

“Really? How do you know?”

“The mark is dead. Found him this morning,” Five inhaled as he thought over (Y/N)’s words of suspicion. “You were the last known unknown left in the equation.”

Hazel let out an airy chuckle, slightly shaking his head. “Shit… Really?”

“Mmhm,” Five nodded and turned around in his seat. “And if you’re out, then Hellrider ain’t riding.”

Throwing his head back, Hazel inhaled deeply, raising his fists in the air. “Oh! Alright!” He grinned. Letting out a relieved laugh, he stepped away from Diego and joined Five at the bar. Picking up the blender, he gulped down what was left of the margarita, Five chuckling and turning his head forward. When Hazel emptied the blender, he set it back in place, exhaling in content. “So now what?”

“You know, to be honest, I don’t know. I’ve been chasing this thing for so long, I…,” He and Hazel turned to each other. “I never really thought about the day after… I don’t know. What about you?”

“I’m done with all of this madness,” Hazel shook his head. “Time to start over. You should do the same.”

“That’s easier said than done…”

“It doesn’t have to be hard. I mean, think about it like this. If you never time traveled, you never got caught up with The Handler, what would have happened?”

Five glanced over his shoulder, at the unconscious Diego, before turning back to Hazel. “I guess I would have grown up to be an emotionally stunted man-child like everybody else around here,” He nodded, Hazel softly chuckling. “But after that… I guess I would have married the love of my life.”

Hazel raised his brows and leaned back a bit. “Really? I would’ve never guessed a cold-hearted killer would have a soft spot. Especially for a girl.”

“Yeah, well… neither did I. But there’s nothing else I’d rather do right now…”

“Well, there you go. Now you can grow up and get married,” Rising from his seat, Hazel nodded at the boy. “Good luck.” As he began to leave, Five glanced over at Delores. This was the time to make things right. The boy called out to Hazel as he turned toward him.

“One more thing before you go.”

“Shoot.”

“Which one of you was the triggerman for Detective Patch?”

“Triggerwoman.” Hazel blinked. Five sighed through his nose.

“Huh. That’s too bad… That gun could’ve cleared my brother’s name.”

Hazel inhaled as he reached into his pockets. “Well, today’s your lucky day, amigo,” He took out two guns and walked up to Five, setting them down on the bar. “Take ‘em both. I’m done with this life.”

Five gave him a ghost of a smile of gratitude as he watched him leave the parlor. And with that, another weight had been lifted from his child-like shoulders. Turning back to Delores, Five deeply sighed. “Now it’s… Now it’s figuring out what (Y/N) wants…”

“Diego?!” As if on cue, the girl’s voice rang throughout the room. He looked over his shoulder to see her crouching beside their brother, placing a hand on his head, (e/c) eyes full of concern.

“He’s fine.” Five spoke up. Her head snapped up to him.

“He is?”

“I just knocked him out. Did what I had to do.”

“Oh, well, then…” She stood with a shrug, moving to his side. Sitting down in the seat Hazel once occupied, she placed a hand on his back. “How’re you doing, bub?”

The nickname sent a rush of heat to Five’s face and ears. He hoped to god it wasn’t noticeable. “Honestly, I’m a little lost, Starlight… I didn’t have a plan after this.”

“Well, then, what do you wanna do?” She held his free hand in hers, raising it to her lips. “Now that you’ve got loads of freetime.”

“I was hoping you’d help me with that,” He leaned closer, gently touching foreheads with her. “Now that I have no idea what the future holds for us… I just want to have one with you.”

“I’ve cried enough these past eight days, Five,” (Y/N) sniffled with a grin on her face. “Don’t make me do it again.” They both chuckled quietly, hands tightly clasped together. They knew this wasn’t a life or death situation, but they’d been so used to losing each other that every moment of peace felt like nothing but the calm before the horrible, horrible storm. (Y/N) wrapped her arms around her love in a warm hug. Not even hesitating, he returned it, gently rubbing her shoulder. “You mean it? You want a future with me?”

“I mean it with every pubescent bone in my body.”

“Ew…” She laughed, the sound alone tugging at his heart. He then felt the warmth of her lips pressed against the corner of his mouth. He swore his heart exploded right then and there. When she pulled away, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t formulate a single sentence in his mind. It hadn’t even been a real kiss and yet it had rendered him speechless, nonetheless. She smirked in amusement at his current state. “Five, you’re staring.”

“I’m well aware.” He breathed. She giggled and circled around him to leave the room, their eyes never breaking contact as their fingers lingered against each other. When they had finally let go, both their hands twitched, itching for that contact again. (Y/N) placed her fingers against her lips as she turned away and left the parlor to head upstairs. She had planned to go check on her children again. It had felt like months since she’d last seen them. Now that the end of all life on earth had been stopped, she knew she had to make things right and explain everything to them. No matter how crazy she sounded. She owed them that much.

She passed by Allison’s room, but stopped when she saw movement from the small crack in the door. Slowly opening the door wider, she gasped at the sight of Allison, now in different clothing, walking around her room. The woman turned towards the door, a tearful smile stretching across her face. “You’re awake…” The girl teared up as the two ran to each other, engulfing one another in a hug. Allison sniffled and kissed the top of her sister’s head. “Oh, god, you’re okay, Ally, you’re okay…” She repeated, more to herself than to Allison. When they pulled away, they sat themselves on the bed. The Rumor reached over to her notepad and began to write something down. (Y/N) leaned over and rested her elbows on her knees, waiting patiently for her sister with a small smile on her face. The smile faltered when Allison turned the notepad to her.

VANYA KNOWS

“She knows?” (Y/N) frowned. “She knows what?” Her gaze followed Allison’s writing.

WHAT WE DID

“Allison, I’m not understanding.” She shook her head. Allison sighed in frustration and hastily scribbled down her response.

THE RUMOR

“The rumor? Like… when we were little?” She asked, Allison nodding. “Is that why she did this? She found out about… but I don’t understand. What did the…”

“I heard a rumor… you think you’re just ordinary.”

“Number Eight, summon a clone. Tell it to make sure Number Seven does not leave her room. No matter what.”

Her face formed into horrified shock. “So, Vanya has powers,” The nod of confirmation from Allison had the girl running her hands down her face. “Jesus Christ… and we were both in on it…” The two sat in silence. Both in fear. Both in shame. Shameful of the pain they’d caused their sister, of blindly following through with their father’s plans without a single word of protest. (Y/N) turned her attention to the sound of the marker against the paper.

ITS MY FAU-

“No,” (Y/N) held Allison’s wrist, forcing her to halt her writing. “It’s my fault as much as it is yours. We were both there… I take this blame with you. Okay, Ally? You don’t have to make yourself feel like shit all the time,” The scoff she got from Allison made (Y/N) frown. “Allison, tell me one good thing you think you’ve done.” Silence followed. Allison stared down at her knees for what seemed like forever before shaking her head with a shrug.

“Well, I’ve got a list. Let’s see… You promote my work in your interviews… You gave birth to my favorite niece,” The woman silently giggled at that. “You were my maid of honor… You stay so fucking strong despite the shit thrown at you constantly,” She reached over and held her sister’s hand. “You’re learning, Ally. We all are. No one said we had to be perfect… We do shitty things and then we learn from them. Yes, part of the process is feeling like shit, but it isn’t the end. I just want you to know… you’re one of the best things to ever happen to me. If you ever feel like a piece-of-shit-sister… know that I think otherwise. Vanya doesn’t hate you… I’m sure after we properly apologize, she’ll understand, right? She just found out that everything she was ever told was a lie… and the source of it. She’s learning, too. We just need to be patient with her. No one really ever was…”

Allison smiled down at her notepad and scribbled something down before holding it up.

PRETTY SMART FOR A KID

“Piss off, Allison.” (Y/N) laughed.

-------------------------------------------------

After leaving Allison to her own devices, (Y/N) slipped into her bedroom and swiped her car keys off her bedside table. She whistled a tune and spun the keys on her finger as she walked towards the stairs. Hearing rustling, she halted when she saw Five in his own room. She walked inside and gently knocked on the door. He looked up from the duffle bag he had just unzipped and smiled tightly. “Hey, Starlight.”

“Hey, bub,” She watched him with a raised brow. “What’re you doing?”

“Uh, well… I figured if I’m going to move on and live as much of a normal life as I can… I’ve gotta let go of the past.” He motioned towards Delores, who sat in her usual chair. (Y/N)’s mouth fell open in shock.

“Seriously? Five, you’re returning Delores?”

“It won’t be easy, I admit,” He grunted. “But I… I have to do this.”

“Make things right,” She nodded, Five staring at her in slight confusion. “You could say I’m on my own journey with that…”

“We all might as well be,” He slowly picked up Delores, his green eyes holding so much care and fondness for the mannequin. He hesitated as he so very gently placed her in the duffle bag. Sighing, he turned his head to (Y/N). “Would you like to say any last words to her, (Y/N)?”

“Oh, uh… Sure,” The girl cleared her throat and slowly walked to Five’s side. He stepped back a little to give her space. Her eyes darted around the room. From Five, to his posters, to the window, before finally landing on Delores. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Delores… um, well, we didn’t talk all that much, but… I think if Five likes you so much, you must be pretty great. I, uh… actually wanna thank you… for taking care of him. He went through hell and my worst fear was that he’d do it alone… but you came in and did what I couldn’t. And I’ll be eternally grateful for that. I wish you luck in life, Delores.” Standing up straight, she turned to Five, who nodded in satisfaction.

“Beautifully said. Now,” He walked closer and zipped up the duffle bag. “I’ll only be a little while.”

“Oh, wait,” (Y/N) gently pressed her hand to his chest to stop him. “I can drive you there.”

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(Y/N)’s car parked in front of the department store Five had directed her to. Very slowly, the boy removed his seatbelt and turned to the backseat, where the duffle bag sat. He let out a breath and slowly reached back for it. “I don’t know, Starlight… If I can…”

“I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t want, Five… But if you truly want to move on and have… that future… This is kinda necessary. I know you can do this, bub. You have more than just Delores now. You’ve got our siblings, you’ve got me.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. Five hummed and grabbed hold of the duffle bag, dragging it into his lap. His finger gently ran over the fabric as he shut his eyes.

“I know…”

Seeing the somber look in his eyes once they opened, she tilted her head and smiled. “Make sure they get her a new outfit. She’d look beautiful in red.”

Five chuckled and shook his head, opening his door to leave. “I’ll be back.” He whispered.

“And I’ll be right here.” She smiled. He returned the expression before getting out and closing the door, swinging the bag onto his back as he strode inside the store. (Y/N) leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, a distant vision she’d had years ago resurfacing her memories.

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The clone stood a few feet away from Five, who sat on the hood of an abandoned car with Delores by his side. The boy sighed and stared up at the star-painted sky. He threw his arm around the mannequin’s “shoulder” and leaned into her. “These stars remind me of (Y/N)... Who is she? Oh, just… a girl…” The clone stalked closer to the car in silence. “What? No, Delores, she’s… Well, she’s dead now. I just called her Starlight because… that’s what she was to me. In an endless sea of darkness, she shone in all her glory. She didn’t make the darkness go away, but she sure made it more bearable to live with… Yeah,” He bitterly chuckled. “Yeah, I was in love with her… But it doesn’t matter. She’s… She’s gone now,” He turned his head to face Delores, his eyes softening. “But at least I have you…”

The clone’s foot came into contact with a nearby scrap of metal, the screeching of it sliding against the ground alerting Five. He jumped up and turned to the clone in anger. “Go away!” He tried waving it off. When it didn’t respond, he hopped off the car and stormed up to it. “I said go away! All you ever do is stand there and look like her! You don’t talk like her or smile like her o-or laugh like her! You just sit there and take up space! Just get the hell away from me!” He shouted, not daring to get any closer, for he knew he’d only get shoved back. The clone only squinted its eyes at Five, the boy sighing in exasperation and stomping back to the car. It watched as he sat atop the hood, burying his face into his hands.

“What the hell am I gonna do with it, Delores…?”

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The girl snapped her eyes open when she heard the car door opening. Turning to her right, she was greeted with the sight of Five. Alone. As he climbed into his seat and shut the door, she grinned brightly at him. She reached her hand over and placed it over his. “I’m so proud of you…” She whispered. The boy only nodded, eyes trained on his knees. (Y/N) tilted her head and hummed in a soothing manner. She considered her next decision for about a solid two minutes before starting the car up again.

“Do you want to meet Michael and Jada?”

—————————————

Taglist: @unfortu-nate-ly @43sparrows @sapphicsyn @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya @narikyuwu @sm0kingcrack @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow @bubblegumflamingos @call-me-starstorm @rev-enviadhell @meowiemari @magicalgothpandamaker @simping-4-fictional-men @hehehehannahthings @harrystylescherrie @rhain3 @himikaphoo @zero2461 @xxeiraxx

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #tua #tua fanfic #tua x reader #tua five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #number five #number five x reader #five x reader #of starlight

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nicknellie · 4 years ago

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Anonymous requested: willex and one of them confesses their feelings to the other while sleeping

So I wasn’t 100% sure if I’d understood this right and I had two directions I could go, either of which would have been good, so I did the Right Thing and included both versions of how I interpreted this. It’s a little short, but I love it. I got a random burst of inspiration for it in the middle of a maths exam yesterday so that was fun, and this is what came out of it. Thank you for the prompt!

No Going Back

If there was one thing Alex had become certain of in all the time he’d known Willie, it was that the guy didn’t get nearly enough sleep.

At first Willie’s constant state of being so exhausted that he was hyper had been endearing. Alex had looked forward to receiving that inevitable ‘are you awake?’ text in the darkest hours of every night, thrilled that he was on Willie’s mind, anxious to have a late-night deep conversation or for Willie to show up at his house and whisk him away on a midnight adventure. He had loved the spontaneity that Willie displayed, a by-product of his insomnia that rendered him incapable of figuring out when something was a bad idea – though Alex was still bitter about that time they’d nearly been arrested for breaking into a skatepark after dark, something Willie had sworn was perfectly legal.

He still loved all that about Willie, it wasn’t something he could ever stop loving. Willie was like that – once you loved him there was no going back. But over time Alex had started to worry, as he was wont to do, about how little sleep Willie was getting.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Alex asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Willie said, not looking up from what he was doing. “What makes you think I didn’t?”

“Nothing,” Alex replied, “just the fact that you’re still wearing the same clothes as last night and there’s a marble run spanning the length of your apartment that definitely wasn’t there yesterday.”

It was mid-morning and Alex was stood in the doorway of Willie’s apartment, peering in through the door at what could only be described as chaos. Willie was stood in the centre of the living room, fiddling with a section of the marble run, his tongue poking out in concentration. All around him, the marble run twisted through the apartment, an explosion of plastic in colours that clashed painfully alongside each other. By the looks of it, the run started atop a light fixture, wound its way through the kitchen (including going inside the fridge and back out again), tracked into Willie’s bedroom, linked back around into the living room, and ended in the perfect position to hit the TV remote’s power button.

It was very obvious to Alex that Willie had spent the whole night trying to find the most complicated way of turning his TV on – getting him to admit it would be the difficult thing.

Willie looked around the apartment, eyes wide as if he was only seeing the marble run for the first time now. He looked utterly bewildered, stumped by his own creative genius.

“Oh,” he said simply. “Yeah, well, I did sleep for a bit. And I also made this. A guy can do two things.”

Alex stepped cautiously into the apartment, shutting the door behind him, being careful not to tread on the marbles that littered the floor. Willie quickly got back to tinkering with his marble run, trying to secure two bits of track together. He was stood on a coffee table up on his tip-toes – Alex moved instinctively behind him to catch him in case he fell.

“Did you really sleep?” he pressed.

“Yes,” Willie insisted. “For, like, an hour maybe. I woke up at about half one.”

Alex checked his watch and felt his jaw go slack in shock. “You’ve been building a marble run for eight hours?”

Although he probably didn’t need to, Willie held onto Alex’s outstretched hands as he lowered himself slowly down from the coffee table. He didn’t let go once he was down, leaving one hand gently slipped into Alex’s. Alex felt his heart beat that little bit faster but ignored the feeling in favour of continuing to worry about Willie’s godawful sleeping habits.

“Not the full eight hours,” Willie told him dismissively. “Probably more like five? I built a domino chain first, and then I had to clear it all up.”

He pointed to a box in the corner of the room that was being used to prop up a good chunk of the marble run and appeared to be filled with an ungodly amount of dominoes. He was smiling triumphantly as if setting up dominoes all night was any different to setting up a marble run.

“You say that like it makes this better, but you’ve still only had one hour’s sleep,” Alex reminded him as Willie tried and failed to stifle a yawn. “I think it’d be a good idea if you got some rest now.”

Willie shook his head. “I’ll be fine, hotdog. One hour is more than enough sleep, I usually get less.”

“That’s not something to be proud of.”

Willie just shrugged, but he wasn’t fooling Alex. In recent weeks, Alex had noticed that Willie’s lack of sleep really seemed to be getting to him. He was sleeping less and less, running on energy drinks and sugar highs, spending his time doing nonsensical things like building colossal marble runs all night instead of at least lying in bed. And Willie was pretending that he was fine, carrying on like it was nothing, but there was something in his eyes that told Alex he was struggling with it more than he would let on.

But now, Willie’s face broke into an excited grin and he squeezed Alex’s hand. “Do you want to test it out?”

In his head, Alex knew he should have insisted that Willie just try and take a nap instead, but he would have been lying if he said he didn’t want to see the end result (after all, there were some loop-the-loops in there and he was quietly curious to see if they’d actually work). So he nodded reluctantly and let Willie pull him to the kitchen where he hoisted himself onto the counter and plonked a marble in the start of the tube.

They watched in awe as the little blue marble rolled its way through all the tubes, flipping around the loops, gathering speed in tight spirals. It was oddly mesmerising and Alex was so caught up in watching it that he forgot he was supposed to be a little annoyed that Willie had made it instead of getting some well-deserved rest.

It was going well, the marble run holding out sturdily, but Alex noticed Willie tense as the marble neared the section he’d been fiddling with when Alex walked in. As the marble ran over that bit of track, there was a catastrophic crash and the entire marble run collapsed around them, raining bits of rainbow-coloured plastic down around the apartment like an avalanche. Alex had covered his head and closed his eyes instinctively, but when he opened them he saw that every inch of the floor was carpeted in bits of marble run and crushed dreams.

The marble dropped to the floor with a pathetic clack, the icing on the cake.

Alex turned to Willie, who was still stood atop the kitchen counter, staring at the wreckage with a completely blank expression. He reached his hand up to hold Willie’s and got nothing in response.

“Willie?” he prompted softly.

“I hate everything,” Willie sighed.

He hopped down from the counter and began trying to pick up bits of the marble run to clear it away. Alex could hardly believe how much of it there was when it wasn’t all stacked together – he couldn’t help but admire Willie for putting it all together, but it was overshadowed by the pity he felt now that it had failed.

Gently, he placed a hand on Willie’s shoulder. Willie instantly broke, his shoulders sagging and his head hanging defeatedly. The bit of track he was holding clattered to the floor.

“You take a nap,” Alex said. He wasn’t asking anymore, he was telling, and truth be told Willie looked like he was ready to fall asleep on his feet. “I’ll pack this away.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Willie said, rubbing at his eyes exhaustedly.

“You’re not asking me, I’m offering. Go on, you need to rest.”

There was a short pause while Willie looked at Alex, something indescribable in his teary eyes. He broke it to say, in a tired voice not quite like his own, “Will you come and stay with me when you’re done?”

Alex smiled softly. “If you want me to then of course I will.”

Willie nodded, eyes already drooping closed, and made his way to his bedroom incredibly slowly as he tried to avoid stepping on any bits of the marble run. Alex began packing it away, and he could hear Willie’s soft snores within minutes.

He spent at least two hours tidying away all the pieces, mainly because for most of that time he was arranging them by size and colour and trying to get them all to fit perfectly in the large container Willie had labelled ‘MARBLES :)’. Eventually though, when the apartment was clear, the final marble plonked into the box, Alex carefully pushed open the door to Willie’s bedroom.

Willie was tucked in underneath the covers, warm and snug, snoring soundly. It appeared he still hadn’t got changed out of yesterday’s clothes, but at least he was finally getting some rest. Alex crouched down by the side of his bed and placed his hand next to Willie’s where it was thrown out exhaustedly across the mattress.

People often thought Alex and Willie were dating, told them they were such a lovely couple, asked about how long they had been together. And every time they would laugh it off, correct whoever had said it, no harm done. But Alex wished that just once he could reply in a very different way, thank them for the compliment, tell them he and Willie had been together for six months or a year or five. Sometimes he suspected that Willie wanted it too – like when he held his hand, or giggled at Alex’s dumb jokes, or smiled in a way that seemed like it was just for him.

But he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

He thought about it now, how if he had been Willie’s boyfriend he could have held him as he slept, run his fingers through his hair, pressed kisses to his forehead until he dozed off. It was probably wishful thinking, but he wondered if he could have helped simply by being Willie’s boyfriend. (He knew the problem ran deeper than that, but he could hope.)

Willie shuffled a bit in his sleep and his hand came to rest atop Alex’s. He felt his breath stutter and hitch in his throat.

“I hope you can’t hear me,” Alex said quietly before he even knew he was going to say anything, “because all I want to tell you right now is that I love you. And I don’t know if that’s what you want to hear. But it’s true – I love you, Willie, and I’m always going to be right here when you need me.”

There was the briefest moment of silence in which neither of them moved and all Alex could hear was the thumping of his own heart. He couldn’t tell if Willie was fully asleep, and he wasn’t certain if he wanted that or not. He wanted Willie to know how he felt, he just didn’t want to tell him.

But after that moment, Willie’s hand clutched weakly at Alex’s, and he breathed, “I love you too.”

It was so quiet Alex thought he might have imagined it. He blinked, leaned a little closer as if Willie might say it again, but he was already back to sleep. Alex wanted to shake him awake, tell him again, make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

He didn’t though. That conversation could wait until Willie was awake. Instead, Alex sat himself down on the floor next to the bed, hand still in Willie’s, head resting against the mattress, and let Willie finally get the sleep he so deserved.

Taglist (if you want to be added or removed just let me know): @ace-bookworm @williexmercer @willex-owns-my-heart @itstiger720 @the-reckless-and-the-brave @that-one-newsie @bluedarkness @lookingthroughmirrors @teammightypen @salty-star @julieandthequeers @lmaohuh

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