#Anyway a distant father-god who you can never please? Who you must apologize to for admiring a man? Yeah I get it

[chronurgy]

Please enjoy this extremely shitty meme I made on my phone

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

By the king’s hand 🐍 XIV

Warnings: dubcon/noncon/rape

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You try to adjust to life back at the palace.

Note: Let me say this is torture to write sitting with my bf because I wanna jump his bones but whatever. Anyways, this chapter is kinda just porn but you know we have some plot coming so enjoy while you can hahah.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Loki was reluctant to leave you and when he did, he left Hal in his stead. It wasn’t subtle. The boy watched you with his bright eyes and every time you stood and paced the room, he asked if you were well. It was rather irritating even if the boy meant well.

You sighed and dropped onto the chaise. You looked around the chambers and hunched forward as you held your face in your hands. Finally settled, as much as you could be, you were restless and you dared to admit it, bored. Hal sat in the armchair and held the same book he’d had in the carriage. You tilted your head as you admired the worn spine.

“Is there nothing I am allowed to keep me from going mad from this tedium?” You asked.

Hal looked up and blinked. He closed his book and rested it on his leg. “Can I ask you a question?” He wondered. You squinted but nodded. “You, by your own words, are a peasant. How come you speak so well?”

You shifted. You hadn’t expected that. You were unused to talking about yourself or thinking about your former life. It was so distant it felt as if it had never been yours.

“My uncle,” you said softly. “I worked in his pottery shop. We never made anything fancy, nothing for any noble patron, but when he was an apprentice, he was employed by a jeweler. Peasants don’t buy jewels. My uncle always said that a merchant should speak all languages, high and low, if he is to be successful, so he always reminded me to enunciate and use big words.” You scoffed and almost laughed at the thought, “Seems ridiculous now. He never made a pot for anything more than a modest holy man, and you know it is unseemly to accept coin from one anointed by the gods.”

“You made pots?”

“And chests, and plates, bowls, cups. We used clay, wood, we even worked some glass.” You explained. “My uncle’s wife died before he could have a child and my mother left me with him before she ran out.”

“And your father?” Hal leaned forward and winced at his own words. “My apologies, I shouldn’t--”

“My mother never married him proper.” You shrugged. “So I suppose, I’m a bastard too.” You touched your stomach. “Only entirely common.”

“I didn’t mean…”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” You let yourself smile, “You’re the first in this godforsaken place who’s even asked about me. No one else cares what I’ve done, only what I can do for them.”

There was a pause as Hal flipped the cover of the book open and closed. His cheeks coloured, as they often did when he was thinking. “If you are bored, you might read?”

“Read?” You laughed, this time aloud. “Peasants don’t read. We can keep a ledger of debts but letters, those are beyond us.”

He was embarrassed. His whole face turned red and his blue eyes rounded. “Well, I… I don’t-- I didn’t--” He cleared his throat, “I could… teach you?”

You almost laughed again. You were kept from it as a knot formed in your chest. It was a kindness you hadn’t known in your time at the palace. Sure, the king had brought you charcoal and paper, but he didn’t care that you couldn’t draw. Aside from that, he expected you to wait around until he required your service.

You were suddenly overcome. You felt as if you would weep and quickly blotted your eyes with your sleeves. You sniffed back the threatening deluge and sat up. “You would teach me?”

“If I can,” he said meekly, “I’ve never taught anyone but I could try.” He stood and set aside the book. “Would you want to?”

“I think… but what is there to read?” You asked. “I always just thought books looked so...complicated.”

“Oh, there are wonderful stories,” he chimed, “Of princesses and knights and kings and queens.” He went to the writing desk in the corner and shuffled through the loose leafs, “Even stories of commoners; of the poor out in the cold and the lowly soldier marching with his liege.”

He turned with a handful of untouched parchment and an inkwell in hand. He set it on the table and retrieved two pens from the desk drawer. He pulled a chair away from the table and looked to you.

“My lady,” he said.

“I told you, that is not my title.” You rose slowly and groaned as your hips ached.

“May I call you it anyway?” He asked. “I think it fits you.”

You chuckled at him and patted his shoulder as you sat in the stiff-backed seat. “If you must.”

“Well,” he sat and placed a pen in front of you, “I think it is best to start by writing out the letters. That is how I began.”

“Alright,” you took the pen and rolled it between your fingers. He slid a sheet before you.

“Just repeat as I do and we will go over the sounds of each letter.” He explained, “Don’t forget the ink.” He uncapped the well and shook his head at himself. “Better I am not a tutor. I think the sword might be better held in my hand.”

“Oh, but Hal,” you said, “A knight should have patience and I expect, you’ll need much with me.”

🐍

Your lesson was long and frustrating. Hal seemed much wiser than you as he assured you that you must be twice his age and so it might take longer for you to catch on. It did not help as you only felt even duller. The boy was patient, to a fault, even, as finally you drew out your entire alphabet and named all the letters by heart. He advised that you looked them over often and repeat them when you could until the next lesson.

He shuffled up the parchment and cleaned the pens. He tucked it all away in the broad drawer as you moved to the chaise and reclined as your lower back rang with pain. He snapped it shut and resumed the armchair.

“The king writes in his solar often,” Hal said, “So you might assume that desk in his absence.”

“Is that what he does when he is away?” You rubbed your stomach pensively.

“He reads, he writes, he meets his council and gives his decrees,” Hal said, “He is a king who keeps himself busy.”

“You would think he’d long for solace when he is not at his duty,” you sighed.

“I think a king is often lonely in his own way. His nobles only expect favours of him and he cannot meet any on even ground.” Hal mulled. “Perhaps, he might feel as you do; that they do not ask after him, only what he can give them.”

“Hmm,” you hummed. How much did Loki give to any? It seemed as if he only took. “Perhaps from his eye.” You tapped your fingers on a wrinkle in your gown. “How long have you served the king?”

“Since I was only eight years.” Hal said. “My father is an earl and Odin saw fit that I take service in the palace for my education. His own son needed an attendant. The king, a prince at the time, did think me too young.” He chuckled to himself, “He said I was as sweet as a maid and I would make a poor lord.”

“That isn’t very kind,” you huffed.

“Ah, but the king is only one who needs proof of one’s worth. He did see my loyalty and my diligence. He has kept me on and has made me squire. I cannot be more grateful.” Hal expounded, “When my training begins, I will no longer be expected to feed or dress him.”

“Oh,” you said glumly, “And when does he intend on that?”

“In the spring, when he is wed,” he answered, “When the snow has melted and the yards are not so treacherous.”

You were quiet. You sat up and turned your legs over the edge of the chaise. You leaned on the low arm and kept a pillow under your elbow.

“You will see me still, my lady,” he said, “I promise that.”

“No, I don’t think I will. I will be round and ready to burst by then and you will have a new duty.” You picked at the edge of the cushion, “And the king will have his wife. I think I mightn’t be here then.”

“Where would you be?” He asked.

“I don’t know. Hidden away so that the king’s shame cannot be known,” you shrugged, “What should a wife, a princess, think if her husband does keep another in his bed?”

Hal reddened and you almost giggled at his embarrassment, not thinking before you spoke. 

“I’m sorry,” you looked down.

“No, it is only… I am almost a man, I know of these things,” he insisted, “It is only, well, I cannot think of how he should have both.” He twiddled his fingers. “It makes me sad to think he might have to be rid of you. To think that things can change so quickly.”

“So is life,” you threw your hand up, “Nothing ever stays as it was.”

“I suppose,” Hal swallowed and opened his book, “But I would not dwell on it.” He flipped through the pages, “I’d rather enjoy things as they are now.”

You peeked over at the boy. As you watched him put his eyes to the page, you felt a bittersweet churning inside. He was so young, you recalled yourself at his age. You’d never been one for dreams or whimsical aspiration. Your uncle called you his little miser as you always saw the worst in the best. Life had yet to dispel your pessimism.

As he turned the page, another peculiar pang settled in you. You thought of your child and who they should be. You hoped they did not inherit your acrid gloom or their father’s malice. You hoped they were like the boy before you. You hoped you could give them dreams you never had. You hoped, you hoped, you hoped…

The door kept you from drifting further into your fears. You looked up as Loki entered and dusted the last of the melting snow from his shoulder. Hal was on his feet in a second and helped the king out of his damp cloak. You rose in turn, anxious as you bounced on the balls of your feet.

Loki’s pale skin was pinkened with the bite of the cold. He sniffed and bid Hal to fetch him tea. The boy flitted out obediently and left you to greet the king.

Loki rubbed his hands together as he went to the fire and warmed them over the flame. He didn’t look at you as he stared into the flames. “You may sit.” He said, “You should not tax yourself thus.”

You lowered yourself as he leaned on the mantle and brushed his fingers through his dark hair. He was still at his work in his head. You wondered why he’d returned so early as you expected he had much to do.

“I took my lords to arrange Tyr’s Hall for my brother’s arrival,” Loki said, “The snow has brought a tree down and damaged the roof.” He spun and his hands went to his hips. “We will have to relocate to the theatre. It is the only building spacious enough for the council and the jury and judges.” He paced and shook his head, “My father renewed that damned theatre over the courthouse. He always did like his shows. And now I must put my brother on trial as if it is some comedy!”

You watched him. He never spoke so much of his courtly troubles. You weren’t sure what you could offer. You knew little of what he did or could do.

“Ugh,” he stilled himself and held his hands out, “But I did come to clear my mind of these things.” He lowered his head and exhaled. He strode over to you and sat on the chaise next to you. “For all the nonsense, I could but worry for… the child.”

You nodded. “And me? You leave me with the boy so he can keep me from trouble?”

“I leave him as company. You needn’t be alone so much.” He leaned back on his hands and pushed his legs apart. “You don’t like him?”

“No, he is a sweet boy,” you assured him, “But I don’t think it fair to keep him locked up with me.”

“He does as I will,” Loki rolled his eyes, “As you do.”

You clamped your mouth shut. His usual mood had returned. You only suspected it to worsen as his brother’s presence loomed and the trial edged closer. 

“Your baker’s daughter did relent, at least,” he sneered, “Another witness for our cause though the word of a common whore will do little against a prince.”

You frowned. You didn’t want to think of Gilla or your visit to the dungeons. It made you shiver and you hugged yourself. He waved his hand in the air and chewed his cheek.

“There I go again,” He turned his head to you, “I did retire for the day and yet I cannot think clearly.”

You hummed. He sat up and rested his hand on his thigh, a tight fist as he shook his head at himself. He stretched out his fingers slowly and reached over to touch your stomach. It seemed to calm him so you let him.

“Your majesty,” you said softly. He looked at you again and drew his other hand from his chin.

“Mouse?” He gave a small nod.

“The child will need something to wear with the boots.” You touched your hips as they reverberated with a sudden pain. You held in a hiss and went on, “I can sew. Perhaps you might allow me a needle and some material to work with.”

“I would have my tailors take care of all that,” he drew a circle with his fingertips before he pulled away from your stomach. “I’ve staff to worry for the details.”

“But… but you leave me here without task. Without anything but a boy and the walls.” You leaned forward to take the weight off your hips. “If I had some work to do, the time might pass easier.”

His brows lowered and he pursed his lips. “I suppose you are right.” He looked up as a knock sounded and he called for Hal to enter. “Thank you, boy.” He pointed to the table and the cup was set down. “You may go and return for our supper.”

“Your majesty,” Hal retreated and the door closed firmly.

“I will have some fabric sent to you on the morrow,” Loki allowed and you squirmed as the settee made your bottom sore. “Would you sit still?”

“Thank you, your majesty,” you hissed and stood as you rubbed your hips, “It is the child. It makes me ache.”

He watched you grip your hips and the tension left his face. His eyes roved up and down your body and he rose. How quickly his mind flew away.

“I might help with that,” he purred.

“I’m not sure that is a solution,” you grumbled.

“Do not presume to know my thoughts,” he warned and grabbed your wrist. “Come. Lay down and I will ease your pain.”

You blinked at him and your doubt drew your lips taught. He snickered and tugged you towards the bedchamber.

“Time does you well.” He said as he drew you through the door behind him, “Your old habits do return to you.”

He was irritating you. The slither in his tone, the knowing, the taunting. He was, as he said of you, as he was before.

“And you haven’t changed at all,” you huffed as he sat you down.

“Did I ever claim it?” He winked and cracked his knuckles, “On your side, mouse.”

“I think I only need to recline for a time,” you argued, “Without bother.”

“Oh, a bother am I?” He arched a brow. He bent and came close enough that his nose tickled yours. “There are ways for me to hurt you without affecting the child. So, let us not tread backward, mouse.”

You couldn’t help how your anger spiked. Your emotions grew more and more erratic. You merely gritted your teeth and lowered yourself down across the bed. He spun his finger to have you turn your back to him and you obeyed if only to hide your spite. The morning felt as if it was long ago.

“Just… relax,” his fingers went to your hip and he kneaded the flesh, “Birger says a woman with child is usually uncomfortable, so let me help and you might not be so fickle.”

“Fickle?” You snipped.

“I could think of another word but let us not venture so far,” he teased.

You moaned in surprise as his touch eased your muscles. You heard his low chuckle in response and you went rigid again. He continued to massage your hip, then your back, and your shoulders. He was quiet and you were uncertain as your body eased and your mind raced.

“Turn over,” he bid and you did without resistance.

His hand was on your other hip as your arm fell back and you closed your eyes. If he was the reason for your tension, he was as good at soothing it. You felt sleepy as he carried on and his fingers danced up your side. He touched your stomach again and crawled upward until he was cupping your breast.

You opened your eyes and he was grinning at the sigh of his hand on your chest. You grabbed his wrist and he shook you off.

“Well, mouse, you’ve got me all stiff now,” he looked to his lap and you sighed. “I say, these are bigger with each day.”

“Ah,” you squeaked as he pinched your nipple through the dress, “And tender!”

“All the better,” he groped you again. “You needn’t do anything but lay there, mouse.”

He nudged you onto your back and you resisted until he pinched you again. He caught your hand before you could strike him and shoved it down beside your head.

“Think of the child,” he cooed as he stood and pushed his knee between your legs. “I thought we had an understanding, mouse.” He brought his other knee down and forced your legs apart. “Birger did say that these activities were beneficial to your condition.”

“Oh, he did?” You wriggled your hand as he pinned your other down and stared down at you.

“And it is not so beneficial for you to work yourself up,” he warned, “So you might calm yourself before you suffer for it.”

“You mean let you have your pleasure.”

“If it entails my pleasure, then I cannot complain,” he released your hands and grabbed your tits again. “Fuck, look at you.”

You squeezed your legs around him but made no move to resist. He’d worked himself into a lust and to resist him might undo all his kindness. As it were, his persistence was not so cruel as before. You could bear it if only for the hope of rest in the end. You could bear it for the life inside you.

“I do not know if I can restrain myself as I did last eve,” he grasped the top of your gown and with effort, tore it open, “But I will try.”

You grunted as he jolted your body as he bared your swollen breast. He bent and took a nipple in his mouth and suckled. It sent a tingle deep into your chest and through your core. You gasped and your hand went to the back of his head. He swirled his tongue around your hardened bud as his fingers played with the other.

He moved to your other breast, a trail of spit between them as he relished the way you squirmed. You couldn’t help it as the pain was laced with a sensation more intense than any you’d felt before. He grabbed the top of the tear already rent in your gown and ripped it further. He dragged his lips down your stomach and growled.

You cursed under your breath. You hated that you felt this way. He pushed your legs up as he nestled between your legs and his warmth spread over your pelvis. He dipped his head down and you flinched as he delved into your folds. You dropped your hand from his hair and he pulled it back impatiently as he buried himself deeper in your cunt.

You bit down as your legs curled over his shoulders, his fingers traced your entrance as his mouth teased your clit. He poked inside and you moaned. He added another finger and worked them in tandem with his tongue. You tangled your fingers in his locks and panted as you covered your face with your other hand.

He kept on until you were writhing and whining. You rocked against his face hungrily and the release swept over you violently. You cried out and locked him between your legs as you rode out your climax. 

He slowly withdrew and sat up as he kept your legs against him, resting your feet against his shoulders. He reached to the top of his breeches, hastily snapping the laces and parting the top. He freed his member and angled himself against your cunt.

He prodded you with his tip and slickened his cock with your arousal. Your hand fell to the pillow and you looked up at his dilated eyes. 

He entered you in a single thrust. You exclaimed and he wiggled his hips as he tested your limits. He gripped your thighs as he began to move against you with long, even strokes. You quivered as your walls clenched around him. You felt your arousal spreading across his breeches with each thrust.

He sped up, his nails sinking into your thighs as he groaned in delight. He threw his head back as his breath hitched. The noise of his fucking filled the chamber and bounced off the corners in a lurid echo. Your frantic pants added to the carnal symphony and fed your hunger.

You reached down to grip the loose fabric of his trousers as he rutted into you. His fingers fluttered down to your cunt and he played with your bud as he fucked you. Your feet arched and you felt another orgasm brewing inside of you.

“Please,” you gasped, “Fuck, fuck!” You were dazed from the sheer pleasure flowing through, “Gods, I fucking hate--” 

You came and your voice fizzled to a series of pathetic whimpers. He only thrust harder and faster. He pushed your legs down around him and planted his hands on either side of you as he groaned and grunted. He was close, you felt it in the way he quaked.

He pulled out of you suddenly and grabbed your hand. He wrapped it around his cock beneath his own and made you stroke him until he finished. His seed spilled out over your stomach, a few strings glossed over your tits, and he slowed your hand as he shuddered and stilled against you. He dropped your hand, his cum wet across your palm and rolled his shoulders.

His green irises focused at last and he sat back as he let out a long breath. He dragged a finger along your stomach, stirring his seed as he admired the small curve of your middle. He turned his hand and pressed two fingers against your cunt until you writhed.

“Thank you, mouse,” he rasped. “For a moment, I did forget my troubles.”

[miracul0us-multishipper]

Welcome to the Back - Interlude

Adrien centric. Basically an apology for all that chameleon induced salt I had on him during wttb.

Masterpost

Adrien sneaked a look outside. There was a gap between the panels that made up the background of the show, just large enough to peek out without being seen. It was quiet here, away from the bustling make-up artists and designers, hurrying to put finishing touches on their assigned models. His father wasn’t among them of course. He was Gabriel Agreste and didn’t need to improve anything, his designs long since perfected during late nights in his atelier. And he had full faith in his son!

(“I trust that you know how important this is,” he had said this morning, with face like marble, “how crucial it is to not lose face when working with the competition. I have no doubt you will behave accordingly.”)

Still. His happiness that his father had taken the time to build him up did not keep him from scanning the crowd for him. Was he there already? Or would he arrive in a way his mother called “fashionably late”?

Sighing, he turned away from the panels. He wasn’tsad that his father didn’t visit him before the show. Really, he had already talked to him only hours ago and was doubtlessly busy; Adrien shouldn’t be selfish.

Besides, it wasn’t like he was on his own.

“Are you nervous?”, he asked the other model when he returned to their private changing room. “There are so many people out there!”

Felix Leanne rolled his eyes, but his finger was tapping on the table relentlessly.

“Of course there are many people. Otherwise this whole ordeal wouldn’t be worth the hassle.”

“You’re dodging the question,” Adrien noted with a tiny hint of smugness. He liked Felix, even though he was a little cold sometimes. They had worked together often enough to be on friendly terms, both being the only models of each other’s age in their shoots. Both fairly isolated, both so busy.

Felix sighed.

“I’m not. Nervous, I mean. Just impatient.”

His eyes flitted towards the door.

“Mum… Mum said I can start accompanying her to work if I do well tonight. I’d get to see how everything actually works! I wrote down so many questions I want to ask. I just want to be able to askthem already.”

Adrien frowned.

“Aren’t you a little too young to be so interested in… company math?”

“We’re the same age, Adrien.”

“Exactly! The same youngage.” He couldn’t hold in a deep sigh. “If mymom offered to let me do anything I want, I would ask to go to a real school. No more homeschooling, just… doing something normal for once. I’d get to meet so many people, to make so many friends!”

Felix pretended to shudder.

“Ugh, people. Horrific.” He ignored Adrien’s giggling. “Seriously, they’re everywhere.”

“I bet you could go to school with me!” he, in turn, ignored Felix’ nagging. “Then we’d already know someone there. Plus Chloé, of course.”

Felix grimaced at the name but refrained from commenting. He’d learned that Adrien didn’t handle it well if you openly disliked his only friend. He wouldn’t have had the time, anyway, because just then a blur of oranges and yellows stormed into the room, carrying dozens of safety pins and wearing several dozens more clipped to her dress.

“Felix!”, Evelynn Leanne squealed, “you look wonderful, darling, navy blue just makes your eyes pop! Let me see the jacket, will you? Oh, this looks a little tight! It doesn’t chafe, does it? Does it?”

“Mum, stop it! Personal space, please.”

Felix pulled a face when his mother gave his jacket one last tug before stepping back.

“Of course, of course. It’s just… Ugh, you look adorable! Doesn’t he, Ms. Cess?”

The Leanne’s assistant, a round black woman that looked absolutely unshakable, gave Felix a small smile.

“He looks like a professional.”

Felix didn’t beam. Adrien was sure his face was physically incapable to. But the hint of a smile that graced his usually tight lips might be his version of that.

“Thank you,” he said genuinely, before sobering up again. “Now, if you’d leave me to prepare? Also, I’m pretty sure you have more than one design to check up on.”

Evelyn sighed, just the way her son was prone to do.

“Let me have my moment, will you? But fine! I still haven’t heard any news from the missing accessory line, and that Sancœur lady was very adamant that it be complete. Good luck, Felix! You too, Adrien! Love your tie, by the way.”

He perked up immediately.

“Thank you, Madame Leanne!”, he tried to answer, but Felix was already hurrying her and Mademoiselle Cess out of the door. When they were gone, his coworker was leaning against the door in relief and Adrien’s throat felt weirdly tight.

“Sorry about that,” Felix said nonchalantly, “she’s been a little clingy since… you know.”

Of course. The divorce, he’d read about it in the newspaper. He couldn’t imagine how horrible it would be to lose his father like that, how terrible Felix must feel.

“Are you okay?” the (slightly) older boy asked after a moment. “You were so quiet.”

Adrien shook his head, shushing those thoughts.

“Of course! Your mother is great, I just… Mine can’t be here today. She’s still not feeling well.”

An understatement, he feared. His father wouldn’t let him into her room to say goodbye before he went to the show. He was just worried, of course! And he’d explained it to him.

(“Don’t bother your mother now, Adrien. She needs her rest.”

“I just wanted to see her before the show. To say goodbye- “

His father flinched at that; his tone sharp.

“There’s no need to- She’ll still be here after the show! Don’t- Don’t let your nerves get the better of you.”

Then, a little softer: “You can talk to her tomorrow.”)

Felix looked at him through somber blue eyes.

“I’m… sorry to hear that. But your father will be here, yes?”

Hurrying to smile, Adrien nodded.

“Yes, we’ll drive home together.”

At that, Felix’ eyes narrowed.

“Uh… great? But before that he’ll want to see you, won’t he?”

To be honest, he was never quite sure what his father wanted. But that wasn’t what this was about, anyway!

“He is very busy,” Adrien explained. “Managing the Show, and all that. But that’s alright! It’s very important to him, and I’m happy to be part of it. It makes me feel… I don’t know, closer to him.”

Felix’ did not relent.

“But don’t you want him to say Good Luck or something? Surely, he can’t be thatbusy.”

“Well…” he admitted. “I… I did hope he’d come by. Like your mom always does. But I don’t want to be greedy! He’s needed elsewhere, probably.”

He straightened.

“Besides, I don’t want to complain to you. With all that… divorce business you’ve already got on your shoulders.”

It was a cheap trick to change the topic, but it worked. Felix scoffed and turned away.

“Oh please, I’m happymy Dad isn’t here. Not that he would care, anyway. I barely saw him even before Mum kicked him out, and what I saw of him was distant, dismissive and derogatory at best. Really, I could never see him again and not lose any sleep about it.”

Adrien couldn’t believe anyone could truly feel that way about their father. Sure, he was disappointed in his father from time to time, sometimes even angry. But he was still, well, his father.

“I’m sure he does love you.”, he tried to comfort his friend. “Maybe if you gave him another chance, he would- “

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Felix snapped, still not looking at him. “He had thirteen years’ worth of chances. I won’t let him… I won’t stand for that kind of inconsequence.”

With that, he straightened his shoulders and turned around.

“Besides, you’re hardly unbiased. It’s rather obvious you’re projecting.”

His voice was harsher than intended and it showed. No sooner than he said it, his eyes widened and he looked away.

“I… I meant…”

“I’m not projecting.”, Adrien said. His voice was oddly quiet to his own ears, and his chest felt cold. “I’m not- I love my père. He’s not- I love him. You don’t know him. He’s just- I’m sure you love your father too, deep down.”

He didn’t know what his own face looked like, but Felix looked stricken.

“Yes,” he said softly, caving, “I guess so. I didn’t mean to imply…”

“It’s okay,” Adrien quickly assured him. No need to be so upset. He was just getting emotional again, and that so close to the beginning of the show. “I know you didn’t mean it that way. I’ll just…” – he pointed towards the door – “…leave you to, y’know, prepare.”

He was out of the room before Felix could protest, towards the back entrance. He needed air, just for a moment. To ground himself.

The heavy door swung open and the security personnel outside gave him a curious glance, but let him pass without question. Cool evening air hit him, soothing and clear. It helped. It always helped.

He could always think more clearly when he was outside. Felix hadn’t meant to say that. He hadn’t meant it, because it wasn’t true. Adrien’s father wasn’t dismissive. He wasn’t distant. He cared, and he loved him. Adrien knew it. So what if-

The crash of a shutting door around the corner caught his attention.

“…know who I am?!”, an angry voice shouted. “I have a right to be here!”

Curious, Adrien came closer until he could see the speaker. A light-haired man with impressive sideburns and an expensive looking suit was raging against a closed door, or rather the person who had shut it.

“You can’t keep me out! Tell her that! Tell her she’s a- “

The man fell silent when he spotted Adrien.

“What are you looking at, boy?!” he snarled and Adrien took a step back. Oh god, had he been staring?

“S-sorry,” he muttered, “I didn’t mean to- “

That’s when he noticed his eyes. Blue-grey, like cold stone. Like Felix’ eyes.

“Monsieur- Monsieur Leanne?”, he asked tentatively. The man in front of him flinched, then towered over him with something in his eyes Adrien couldn’t place. It frightened him.

“It’s Bordeaux.”, he spit, emphasizing every syllable, “René Bordeaux. And who are you?!”

Oh god, he was doing everything wrong today. Leanne was Felix’ mother’slast name.

“Adrien- Adrien Agreste,” he pressed out, not knowing whether to apologize or to run. His fear was misplaced, however. Within mere seconds Monsieur Bordeaux relaxed, all hints of aggression evaporating like boiling spaghetti water.

“Agreste!”, he said cheerfully, a dizzying contrast to his previous demeanor, “Gabriel’s boy, I take it?”

“Y… yes!”, Adrien confirmed quickly, relieved that the situation was apparently saved. Had he imagined Monsieur Bordeaux’s anger? There was no trace of it now! Perhaps he had read the situation wrong… it wouldn’t be the first time. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Well, I’m a big fan!”, the reporter beamed. “Of you andyour dad. Excited for the show? You must be so nervous, being the main star!”

Flattered, Adrien shrugged.

“Oh, it’s not… not a big deal. But thank you, Monsieur Bordeaux.”

“But it is!”, Bordeaux insisted. “Call me René, young man, no need for formalities.”

He put a hand on his shoulder, lowering his voice.

“To be honest, I’m very impressed how well you are handling all this pressure. I have a son your age, and I know he would be at a total loss for what to do.”

“Oh. Oh!”, Adrien realized, “You mean Felix! I’m actually working with him tonight!”

“Oh? You don’t say!”

“It’s true! He’s doing great, though. A real professional!”

Monsieur- René sighed.

“I’d love to believe that. The Felix I know tends to be… stubborn. I fear he’ll refuse help from everyone, even those who have his best interest at heart.”

Adrien frowned. That was true, Felix was stubborn. But Adrien hadn’t noticed anything the other boy might need help with, so he couldn’t judge. It just didn’t sit right with him that his dad didn’t believe Felix could do it.

“Really, you can be proud of him!”, he tried again. “He’s gonna be flawless, you’ll see at the- oh.”

Another mistake. René wouldn’t see his son, because he was not allowed at the show.

“Well, yes.”, Felix’ father agreed, patting him on the back as if to say ‘no worries’. “There’s the problem, you see?”

“I’m sorry for that.”

“Ah, don’t be! It’s not your fault. Really, that’s between me and Evelyn. She just… doesn’t want me to be a part of Felix’ life anymore. All because of some small mistakes I made. And now, now Felix will never…”

“Give you a chance.”, Adrien concluded. René smiled wistfully.

“Exactly. I just want… another, uh, chance.”

He was looking into the distance, before promptly jumping up and turning to him.

“Wait a minute! You are the star of the evening! What if youbrought me in with you? Then I could see Felix before the show!”

Adrien blinked. He… he could do that! But…

“I… I don’t think that would be a good idea. Felix said he doesn’t want to see you.”

“Oh, I’m sure he did. But sometimes, what people say they want, and what they need are two entirely different things!”

…that sounded familiar, but not quite right.

“I don’t understand.”

“See,” René began, crouching down to his height, “take your dad! He’s probably very busy, isn’t he?”

He didn’tflinch.

“That’s fine! I am supporting him!”, Adrien said, voice sharper than intended.

“Of course you do! And you probably tell him that. You don’t wanna nag him, am I right?”

Slowly, he nodded.

“But surely, deep down, you would like him to see you more, wouldn’t you?”

“I… I guess. And you think Felix is the same? Even though he is mad at you?”

“Let me put it that way. I did some tinythings wrong, and now Felix wants to punish me for it. But you make mistakes too, don’t you? And you don’t want to be abandoned for them either.”

“No!”, he gasped, horrified, “No, of course not!”

“See? And you’re right! Know why?”

René gestured into the distance.

“There’s good people, and there are evil people, who do evil things, like bombing churches, or kicking puppies. But people like you and I – Good People, the rightkind of people – wecan change.

“...or explain why we didn’t do anything wrong in the first place. There’s always two sides, and all that. Nothing is made better if everyone just turns away from us! Punishing us for mistakes doesn’t make them disappear. Only if we are given another chance we can make things right.”

Something still didn’t sit right with Adrien, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“But… but what if the mistake is really bad?”

René’s face darkened, before lighting up again.

“Clever kid, you! Even then, punishing bad things never made them good, am I right? You can only” – he snapped his finger – “suck it up and support others to do better. And you are exactly the kind of person who would know better, clever as you are. Really, Felix could take a page from your book!”

He stood up, looking down on him.

“So, what do you say, young man? Do you wanna be my hero and help a worried father care for his son?”

Adrien looked back at the private entrance. The security people who would do as he said. The building his own father was probably in.

“I…”

Felix would thank him, eventually, right?

“I’ll do it.”

-

“So, here we are!”, Adrien announced to his companion. “Welcome to the back... stage. This is the hallway that leads to the stage, there you’ll arrive at the stairs to the audience, and here’s the way to our private changing room! Do you want me to tell Felix you are coming, or do you want to talk alone?”

René wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were darting over the many settings on his camera, then towards the changing room.

“Know what, kid? Maybe don’t tell Felix I’m here just yet.”

Adrien’s smile faltered.

“But… but the show is going to start soon! Don’t you want to wish him good luck?”

“Ah, don’t worry about it.”, René dismissed with a wave of his hand, “Luck is the last thing he needs. Tell you what, I have something… special planned. You don’t want to ruin the surprise, do you?”

That made sense. He shook his head, and the reporter grinned.

“That’s what I thought. No off you go, get ready for your modeling gig!”

Adrien’s chest felt tight. He didn’t like the expression in René’s eyes. But he had been wrong so often. Felix would thank him eventually, he reminded himself. René just needed another chance.

Felix would thank him.

-

Felix did not thank him.

An hour later, there was press everywhere, and at least one police car. Adrien was lost and stumbling around between running people. Camera’s clicked, someone was yelling, he could see Felix’ mom talking to an officer. Her make-up was running. Was she crying?

“Adrien!”, a hoarse voice yelled, and suddenly Felix was there, pulling at his arm, “What did you do?!”

His eyes weren’t like stone anymore. They looked like thawing ice. Cold and watering andbreaking.

“I-”

“What did you do?!”

“I only wanted- I was just- “

“What?! Whatwere you?! Trying to ruin everythingfor me!?”

“No! I didn’t think- “

“There you are!”, a familiar voice called and Adrien almost sagged in relief. Nathalie pulled him away from Felix with no effort at all, instructing the security personnel to drag the kicking and cursing boy back to his mother. Then she pulled Adrien with her, towards the private box where his father sat.

Adrien gulped.

Gabriel Agreste was utterly motionless, looking down upon the chaos below. Not a hair was out of place, not the hint of an emotion in his eyes.

“That would be all, Nathalie.”, he said simply, and Nathalie let go of Adrien to return to her tablet.

“Father…”, he said, voice breaking. “I don’t understand what happened. Did I… did I do something wrong?”

His father was still watching the crowd below. The press, trying to get a shot of Evelyn Leanne. The police, running around and interviewing people. A blonde boy in navy blue, so small from above, blocking his ears and trying escape the cameras.

A show in ruins.

“Sir,” Nathalie spoke up again, before Gabriel could even turn to his son, “we heard back from Madame Bourgeois. She wants to reconsider doing her Fashion Highlights article about the Gabriel Brand instead of Leanne’s. And there’s a British perfume company looking for a new partner in fashion.”

With that, Gabriel stood up. His son lowered his head, trying to sink into the ground before the yelling could begin. But instead of raising his voice, his father raised his hand and –

“Let’s go home, Adrien.”

–…pat him on the shoulder.

“Father?”

He was confused. He’d been so sure this was his fault, that he had messed up somehow.

“Shouldn’t I- shouldn’t I go talk to Felix first?”

His father looked past him, towards the Leanne’s.

“I doubt you will be working with him again.”, was his reply. He looked almost… content when he turned away from the scene. “Let’s not waste our breath.”

With that, Gabriel Agreste started walking away.

And Adrien, ever the obedient son, followed.

—

Many things would happen between that fateful night, and another night that promised to be even more fateful.

Adrien had lost his mother.

Adrien had gained friends.

Adrien had gone to school; Adrien had left it.

He had been a hero and a villain, and through it all, a child.

A child that had to be better. A child that now knew, he could become what had become of René Bordeaux.

A child that would not.

He would not become like Bordeaux. Like Lila. He wouldn’t allow it.

And he would prove it!

He would do better, be better. So that he could return to school, to his friends, and show them that he wouldn’t let them down again. If they’d still have him.

He would show Nino that he’d never ever lie again.

He would show Alya that he’d never let her be used again.

He would show Marinette that he would never abandon her again.

And… he would show Felix that he got it now. That he wouldn’t disappoint him again.

And maybe, that would show Ladybug that she had been right to trust him one last time. Even if it wasn’t as her partner.

The door to his room opened, and Adrien held his breath. Nathalie would have knocked.

“Adrien,” his father greeted him, an even for him atypical amount on tension in his face, “we need to talk.”

“We do,” Adrien agreed, opening the tab with the list of therapists he’d been considering. Then he remembered himself and bit his lip. “Uh, you go first.”

He didn’t know if his father had even heard him. He was turned towards the window, before looking back at his son.

“I always wondered… I knew you were hiding something. Your behavior was so… unlike yourself.”

Adrien’s brow furrowed.

“Father?”

“I am not mad at you Adrien, though I admit, at first…”

He turned around, simmering anger in his usually cool eyes.

“I couldn’t believe you would be able to hide something of that importance from me. Clearly, I was wrong.”

“Father, I- “

“No. Listen to me, Adrien. This might be our chance, our onlychance. Your mother’s only chance.”

The room seemed to get colder. Gabriel talked on.

“I never thought I would be able to involve you, always thinking you might be too… fragile. I see now that this was a mistake. If I had been more open in my endeavor, this would have ended a long time ago. But maybe it needed to happen. It needed to happen, so that you would truly understand what needs to be done.”

What do you mean, Adrien wanted to ask, but his mouth was frozen shut. Something icy was growing in his chest. In his pocket, he clutched a colorful little lucky charm like a lifeline.

“Adrien.”

His father stepped closer.

“I know that you were Chat Noir.”

Somewhere, deep in his soul, his subconsciousness was already connecting the final dots, only waiting for his mind to catch up. It kindly refused the invitation, choosing to revel in blissful ignorance for a few more minutes.

“I… F-father, I… I swear- “

“It’s alright, son. Everything will be alright. Look at me, Adrien.”

He did. He did, and he did not know who he was looking at.

“My son,” his father said, and there was a spark in his eyes that scared him, “it seems so fitting. That all of us would carry such a burden, at one point. As if fate itself kept a close eye on our family.”

“You are Hawkmoth.”, someone said. It took both Agreste’s a few moments to realize it had been Adrien who’d said it. And even then, it took Adrien’s mind several more to put ‘blissful ignorance’ back into its box and catch up with his subconscious and mouth. The lucky charm in his pocket felt cold, so cold, like it had felt only once before.

At TV1.

“You are Hawkmoth,” he repeated, and his voice didn’t falter. Neither did his father.

“I understand if you feel… betrayed.”, the latter said slowly, pronouncing the last word like something spiky he didn’t want to get too close to. “There is much you don’t know yet. But until I show you, I need you to remember that we are family. And that we have a common goal, and since quite recently, a common enemy.”

In his head, his thoughts were racing, too fast to be of any use to him. He felt numb. But fifteen years of experience with his father had taught him when to be quiet, and when to ask questions.

“A… common enemy?”

“Yes.”

His father smiled. It looked wrong.

“You were a hero. You were the Black Cat, you were Chosen. But they took that from you. The moment you didn’t meet their expectations anymore, they tossed you aside. As if you hadn’t sacrificed so much for them. I saw you, everything you did for them. For her.”

“Ladybug.”

The word felt odd in his mouth, as if it didn’t want to be said. His father’s smile widened.

“Ladybug,” he agreed, and if the name had hesitated on Adrien’s tongue, it positively rebelled on Gabriel’s. It sounded poisonous, dripping with disdain. “And the Guardian. And, not to forget, the imposter that took your place.”

Adrien looked up at him, slowly.

“You akumatized me.”

His father didn’t flinch. But he blinked, once, before stepping back.

“So I did.”

He turned around, towards the window. Towards Paris beyond, that feared him every day.

“Imagine my surprise when I learned that the one I was doing this all for was the one fighting me, all along. That the key to our happiness had been beneath my very own roof.”

He shook his head.

“The past is in the past. I know exactly how you felt, in that moment. I could feel it firsthand. How alone. Abandoned by those that should have stood with you.”

He turned back around, facing his son. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was genuine emotion on his face.

“Adrien, if you still feel that way, then we can fix it. Together. We can retrieve your Miraculous, and every other Miraculous too!”

He gripped his shoulder with unexpected strength, eyes wide.

“Adrien, I know just how deep Ladybug’s betrayal cut you. But now that you see her for what she really is, you have the power to make her regret. To take back what you deserve, what you are owed.”

He remembered Lila. Her power to make people believe anything. Just by knowing what they wanted to hear.

“Imagine it, son.”

Adrien imagined.

Being Chat Noir once more. The thing in his life he had loved so much, so much.

But he knew, it hadn’t been the costume he’d loved. When he thought of being Chat Noir, he thought of Plagg’s annoying voice. His constant company, his purrs. He thought of Ladybug and laughter, and racing over rooftops with someone that believed in him.

He thought of escape. Why did he want to escape?

Alone. Abandoned by those that should have stood with you.

He hadbeen alone, for so long. He had been abandoned.

“I love you, Father.”

He looked up. His father looked confused.

“I will always love you.”, he added, and the words felt right. They felt true. He smiled.

“Of course I will help you! I have always supported you, no matter what.”

Because what else could he do?

“I knew I could trust you.”

He was no hero anymore.

“I am so proud of you.”

And he was no villain either.

“You’ll see, Adrien.”

He was a child.

“It will all be worth it, in the end.”

A child that knew he could become everything his father wanted him to be.

A child thatwould not.

“Of course, Father.”

He would not become like Bordeaux. Like Lila.

Like Gabriel Agreste.

“Let me show you the reason for all this.”

Adrien felt like he knew already. Like it would be painful. Like it still wouldn’t change anything. And yet, he smiled. He smiled, the exact same smile he had always worn when his father ignored another birthday. The smile for when his father turned his back yet again. The smile that was so false it hurt.

The smile that would have given him away if his father had looked at him just a little bit closer, those past few years.

“I’m right behind you,” he said, reaching out with one hand for his father’s, with the other for his phone. He had no way to contact Ladybug now. But he knew someone who could. Whose lucky charm was in his pocket, comforting and warmonce again.

He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t angry. He knew exactly what needed to happen, and that she would makeit happen.

“With your help, Adrien, this will all be over soon.”

Alone. Abandoned.

Oh yes.

Distant, dismissive, derogatory.

He was right.

I will not disappoint you.

More so than he knew.

“My son,” his father said, and Adrien was so sure he could see love in his eyes. “Now I know that we will be victorious.”

With that, Gabriel Agreste started walking away.

And Adrien, no longer the obedient son, followed.

[bloody-bee-tea]

Don’t stop being rude

Me: I don’t know what to write.

@chilassa: Write about dehydration

Me: Oh, I guess I can do that in under 1k

Also me, but 2.5k later: 🤡 🤡 🤡

Jiang Cheng is just about to retire to bed when someone knocks at his door.

Usually his fight instinct would kick in immediately because if someone knocks at his door at this time of night, then that means trouble. But he is in the Cloud Recesses for some Sect business and so he doesn’t worry as much.

He still worries, because it’s long past the Lan’s bedtime and his disciples know better than to disturb him for nothing, but he is able to keep it mostly in check and not storm out with Sandu already unsheathed in his hand.

Instead, he walks up to the door in a very controlled manner.

“What?” he barks as soon as he opens it and then frowns when he sees one of Jin Ling’s friends on the other side.

Not Wei Wuxian’s kid, but the loud-mouthed one. Lan Jingyi, if Jiang Cheng remembers correctly.

He’s wringing his hands in front of his body and he’s barely meeting Jiang Cheng’s eyes, so he misses the truly spectacular roll of his eyes.

“What?” Jiang Cheng asks again, a little bit softer this time, because the boy already seems stressed enough.

“My apologies for disturbing you, Sandu Shengshou,” Lan Jingyi starts and Jiang Cheng cuts him off immediately.

“Stop that,” he orders him. “Just say what it is you want to say, no need for formalities. I’m guessing it must be serious if you’re still up and out at this hour.”

“Oh gods, please don’t tell Teacher Lan I’m still up, he’s going to punish me,” Lan Jingyi rushes out and Jiang Cheng has to bite back a smile.

Seems like Lan Qiren is still instilling the fear of punishment into every unsuspecting student.

“Alright, I won’t,” Jiang Cheng reassures him, because Lan Jingyi seems worried out of his mind, going by how his eyes keep darting around. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“So, I know I shouldn’t bother you with this, but Hanguang-Jun and Master Wei are better not disturbed at this hour,” Lan Jingyi says and Jiang Cheng doesn’t even want to know what the poor kid has seen.

“And what is this?” Jiang Cheng asks, much more patient than he actually feels.

“It’s Zewu-Jun,” Lan Jingyi says and Jiang Cheng frowns.

“Isn’t he still in seclusion?” he wants to know, because Jiang Cheng has been in the Cloud Recesses for a few days now and he didn’t see even a single hair of Zewu-Jun.

He only dealt with Lan Wangji or Lan Qiren and naturally assumed that Lan Xichen is still recovering in seclusion.

“Partial-seclusion,” Lan Jingyi gives back and only elaborates when Jiang Cheng raises an eyebrow at him in question. “It means he’s technically Sect Leader again, and deals with all the paperwork and decisions that come with it, but he isn’t meeting people. He leaves the Hanshi every now and then, but mostly to speak or spend time with family. And to visit the rabbits.”

The rabbits, of course. Jiang Cheng will never understand how the rabbits managed to worm their way into Lan Qiren’s heart, so that he would allow the pets to stay. But then again, they are very fluffy and cute.

“What’s wrong with him?” Jiang Cheng asks, shaking every thought of the adorable rodents off.

“He’s taking on too much today,” Lan Jingyi whispers. “I’m in charge of bringing him food and preparing the tea for him, but he didn’t consume either today. I’m really worried. He’s not in the best health after what happened at the temple and I’m afraid he’ll only get worse if he doesn’t eat or drink anything.”

Jiang Cheng clicks his tongue because how can a grown-ass man neglect himself like that, but then he sighs.

He wasn’t much better for many years after he became Sect Leader after all, so maybe he shouldn’t judge too harshly.

“Alright. I guess you want me to talk some sense into him?”

“If it wouldn’t be too much of a bother,” Lan Jingyi says with a deep bow and Jiang Cheng nudges him.

“Stop that already,” he grumbles, but motions for Lan Jingyi to lead the way anyway.

“Thank you,” he whispers and Jiang Cheng can tell that he is really worried about Lan Xichen.

“You two seem close,” Jiang Cheng says as he follows Lan Jingyi down the paths to the Hanshi and Lan Jingyi shrugs.

“He’s my distant cousin, but he always put in a good word with Teacher Lan for me when he was about to punish me again. He’s the only father figure I know.”

“I see,” Jiang Cheng says and then falls quiet.

A lot of orphans came out of the war, and while most of them where somehow adopted into the Sects it’s kind of unusual to give one of them more attention than the others, even if he is distant family.

Jiang Cheng guesses he and Lan Xichen have much more in common than he thought, soft spots for kids included.

“The Hanshi,” Lan Jingyi suddenly says, effectively jolting Jiang Cheng out of his thoughts, and bowing again. “Please talk some sense into him.”

“Oh, that I will,” Jiang Cheng promises and when a tiny spark of fear enters Lan Jingyi’s eyes, he gives him his sweetest smile before he walks off.

“Oh gods, what have I done,” he hears Lan Jingyi mutter behind him, but he doesn’t try to stop him.

Clever boy.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t bother with knocking at the door; he simply marches in. Politeness is for people who are not dumbasses, so Lan Xichen is disqualified.

Jiang Cheng finds Lan Xichen bowed over some letters, reading in candlelight and Jiang Cheng knows from experience that this is neither good for his back nor for his eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he snaps out, when it becomes apparent that Lan Xichen didn’t even notice him enter.

Lan Xichen startles badly enough to almost send the letter flying and Jiang Cheng has no qualms laughing at him.

“How did you get in here?” Lan Xichen demands to know once he got his bearings back and Jiang Cheng motions towards the door.

“I’m in seclusion!”

“Partial-seclusion, a little birdy told me. I would think you’d make time for a fellow Sect Leader,” Jiang Cheng gives back as he walks over to Lan Xichen.

“Lan Jingyi,” Lan Xichen breathes out. “That boy makes so much trouble.”

“He’s worried,” Jiang Cheng chimes in, and Lan Xichen turns big eyes on him.

“Why would he be worried?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Jiang Cheng says with a very pointed look at the untouched dishes of breakfast, lunch and dinner.

“Oh,” Lan Xichen weakly says. “Is it already that late?”

“Long past your bedtime,” Jiang Cheng agrees and nudges a bowl of congee closer to Lan Xichen.

It won’t be as good anymore, even if he reheats it, but Lan Xichen needs to eat at least something.

“I’m not hungry,” Lan Xichen dismissively says and turns back to the letter in his hand.

“Absolutely not,” Jiang Cheng hisses and snatches the letter right out of Lan Xichen’s hand. “You’re going to eat and drink something and then you’re going to bed.”

“You can’t just order me around,” Lan Xichen says, though he doesn’t seem angry enough for Jiang Cheng’s liking. “I’m a fellow Sect Leader, you owe me respect.”

“Fellow is right,” Jiang Cheng gives back, totally uncaring of how Lan Xichen tries to take the letter back out of his hands. “You owe me just as much respect, but you don’t see me standing on ceremony here. Let’s just agree that between two Sect Leaders we’re also just two humans, alright?” Jiang Cheng wants to know and he only looks up when Lan Xichen doesn’t say anything to that.

“What?” he gruffly asks when Lan Xichen’s stare becomes unbearable for Jiang Cheng.

“You’re being rude,” Lan Xichen whispers and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

“And you’re being dumb,” he shoots back, but Lan Xichen shakes his head.

“No, I mean—so far everyone has treated me with kid gloves or the utmost respect. There’s no in between.”

“And that really sucks, doesn’t it?” Jiang Cheng asks, not at all surprised when Lan Xichen nods.

“It grates, after a while,” Lan Xichen mutters and understanding finally dawns on Jiang Cheng.

“Is that why you’re slaving away over this paperwork? To make them stop treating you with kid gloves and to feel like you deserve their respect?” he asks and when Lan Xichen flinches, he knows he hit the nail on the head.

“What do you know about this?” Lan Xichen hisses out and Jiang Cheng thinks this is the first time he has ever seen Lan Xichen being visibly angry.

“A lot more than I would like,” Jiang Cheng admits and then sighs as he puts the letter down on the table. “It’s easier to throw yourself into work than to think about why they would act like you could shatter at any moment,” he says, very deliberately not looking at Lan Xichen. “So you work and work and work, until eventually that becomes all you do. By then everyone expects this of you, so you can’t even slow down, because then they would think you’re slacking off or breaking under the pressure. It’s not a situation you can win, once you’re in it.”

There’s a long silence after he stops speaking and then Lan Xichen very lowly asks “How did you get out of it?”

“I collapsed,” Jiang Cheng freely admits. “Too little to eat and drink, too much work. I didn’t even sleep properly and one day I simply collapsed from dehydration. My healer beat some sense into me, and my closest disciples offered to help with the workload. They practically forced me to delegate and I thank them every day for it.”

“Other people have done my work for too long,” Lan Xichen mutters and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

“So they can do it a little bit longer. Give yourself some time to ease back into things. There’s no need for you to run yourself into the ground like this.”

“But,” Lan Xichen tries but when Jiang Cheng slams his hand down on the table he falls silent.

“No but,” he tells him. “You’re helping no one if you collapse or ruin your eyesight forever.”

“I practiced inedia,” Lan Xichen argues and Jiang Cheng snorts out a laugh.

“Congratulations, that doesn’t help lesson the stress you’re putting your body under.”

“You really are rude,” Lan Xichen says, but he doesn’t seem too displeased by that.

“Better than overly polite, isn’t it?” Jiang Cheng asks and nudges the bowl of congee again. “Eat,” he orders Lan Xichen, who shakes his head.

“I’m not hungry.”

More like long past the point of hunger, Jiang Cheng guesses.

“Drink, then,” he tries next and pushes the by now cold tea towards Lan Xichen. “You’ll dehydrate much quicker than you’ll starve.”

Lan Xichen doesn’t even look down at the cup but keeps his gaze on Jiang Cheng.

“What?” Jiang Cheng bites out when Lan Xichen doesn’t move to look away, and he’s startled to find a small smile on his face.

“Did anyone tell you you’re really annoying?” Lan Xichen wants to know, but his voice is soft and the smile is still playing around his mouth, so Jiang Cheng guesses he can’t be too annoyed.

“Jin Ling, ever other week,” Jiang Cheng freely admits and counts it as win when Lan Xichen huffs out a small laugh. “Drink,” Jiang Cheng orders again and this time Lan Xichen takes the cup.

He makes a face after the first sip, but dutifully drinks until it’s empty.

“Gross?” Jiang Cheng asks and Lan Xichen nods enthusiastically.

“Very,” he agrees.

“Maybe you should get up and make a new pot then,” Jiang Cheng advises him and smiles when Lan Xichen levels him with a look.

“If you want new tea, why don’t you make it?”

“Zewu-Jun, is that any way to treat an honoured guest?” Jiang Cheng asks with mock outrage and leans back more comfortably. “I think your hospitality needs some work.”

“Hospitality, my ass,” Lan Xichen grumbles under his breath, but he does get up and starts working on a new pot of tea. “You’re a menace and nothing more.”

“And I have found that works best when dealing with stubborn and stupid fellow Sect Leaders,” Jiang Cheng innocently gives back.

Lan Xichen busies himself with the tea instead of replying to that, and it’s only when he comes back to the table with the new and hot pot of tea that he speaks again.

“I’m not coming out of seclusion,” he lowly says and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes as he takes the pot out of Lan Xichen’s hands to pour both of them a new cup.

“And I’m not asking you to. In fact, no one is asking you to before you don’t feel ready. I’m just asking you to not be a massive idiot and to take care of your own health.”

“And you couldn’t have done that in a nicer way?” Lan Xichen wants to know but he accepts the cup when Jiang Cheng offers it to him.

“Would it have worked?” Jiang Cheng shoots back and is not at all surprised when Lan Xichen shakes his head.

“And that’s why I didn’t,” Jiang Cheng says and then takes a sip from his tea, practically daring Lan Xichen to do the same.

“Are you going to bully me into self-care every day you’re here now?” Lan Xichen wants to know after he drained his cup.

“If you continue being stupid, then yes,” Jiang Cheng easily gives back and feels very accomplished when Lan Xichen chuckles at that.

“Fine. I expect you back here tomorrow then,” Lan Xichen decides. “I might be very against lunch, you see.”

“I see,” Jiang Cheng replies and mentally pats himself on the shoulder.

He’ll get Lan Xichen to take care of himself sooner or later, he’s sure of that. But he also knows he can’t stay forever, so someone else will have to take his place.

“I’m unavailable for dinner, though,” Jiang Cheng says, even though it’s not at all true. “But I think Lan Jingyi would love to bully you into eating.”

Lan Xichen huffs out a laugh at that.

“He would,” he agrees and pours himself a new cup.

It seems his thirst is hitting him hard now.

“I’ll see if he’s available,” Lan Xichen then says, and Jiang Cheng knows that even if he shouldn’t be, Lan Jingyi will make himself available.

“Good,” Jiang Cheng says and expectantly holds out his cup for Lan Xichen.

“Rude and helpless, I see,” Lan Xichen murmurs, but he dutifully pours Jiang Cheng a new cup.

“And hopefully the first one will rub off on you,” Jiang Cheng mutters. “You could stand to be a little bit more rude.”

“And you could stand to be a little bit more polite,” Lan Xichen shoots back.

“I guess we should make sure to teach the other then,” Jiang Cheng immediately says and Lan Xichen agrees with a small nod.

“I guess,” he also says and then falls silent.

Jiang Cheng guesses it will be a lot of work to make Lan Xichen even a little bit rude, but he’s more than ready to take that challenge on.

Everyone needs some rudeness in their life, after all.

{Buy me a kofi}  

[free-pool-trash]

folklore - isaac lahey {3/?}

wooo part 3! thank you for all the love so far <333 grab a snack cuz this is a long one ;) platonic scott and derek x reader in this part too :)

let me know what you think <3

word count: 4.5k

warnings: swearing and lots of it, mentions of blood and i think that’s about it but let me know if there’s something i missed!!

Taglist: @makeusfreefromthisfandom, @cece-lives-here, @chocolate-raspberries, @belsandthings, @dancing-tacos-23, @truly-dionysus, @britty443, @tanyaherondale, @furiouspockettoad,  let me know if you’d like to be added <3

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART FOUR

The steady beating of the heart monitor filled the packed hospital room which held your unconscious body.

Your parents and Derek stood before your bed, shouting at each other in harsh whispers.

"What're you telling me right now, Derek?" Your father seethed through gritted teeth at the werewolf that had previously been teetering around what he was meaning to say.

"I'm saying that she's going to become a wolf. She was bitten by an Alpha, alright? Just like Scott." He explained, staring at your body sympathetically.

"The bite hasn't healed yet, Derek." Your mother chimed in, voice riddled with nerves as she took in the blood seeping through the bandage that was wrapped around your neck.

"It's only been a few hours…" The wolf trailed off, worry present in his voice. To be honest, people getting turned from being bitten was relatively new to Derek, because in his experience… the bite usually didn't take.

 Bodies more often than not rejected the bite, it's what separated the strong from the weak, natures way of keeping the balance. The strong became wolves and the weak died. Derek kept that information to himself, however, you were already a member of his pack- one of the only members left- he refused to believe that a bite from a wolf would be what made you meet your end.

"What if she doesn't take the form of a wolf?" You could pick up on the voices now, they were distant and echoed but you could hear them nonetheless.

"The form you take represents the person you are on the inside." Derek's voice.

"She's not exactly the get-angry-and-rip-a-throat-out-with-her-claws kind of kid." Your mother's voice, still surrounded by echoes but getting closer to you.

"What're you saying?" Derek, you felt anxiety building up in your stomach as the words filled your ears, it didn't belong to you though, no those nerves… they didn't belong to you- they were someone else's.

"I'm saying… what if she doesn't become a wolf… what if she becomes something else." Your heart rate picked up at her explanation, but again, you felt detached from the feeling of anxiety that was eating you up from the inside, the words of "or she could die." Sounding through your head, the words- like the anxiety- they weren't yours. They belonged to Derek.

With a gasp that ripped at your injured throat, you shot up, eyes flying open as you threw yourself into an upright position on the hospital bed, your hand flying up to grip your throat. What the fuck happened?

The words you previously heard were forgotten the second you reentered the land of the living, your chest heaving with slight panic before your eyes met your mother's, who was now at your side, removing your hand from your still unhealed wound and holding it in her own.

"What happened?" You rasped, voice hoarse and cracked, the words leaving your mouth painfully as your throat refused to mend itself.

"Don't you remember anything?" You could only shake your head at your mother's question, less out of giving an answer and more out of undiluted fear. Heart rate increasing while images of the beast with beaming red eyes flashed unrelentingly through your mind.

"A wolf. It was a wolf- but it was- it was-" You tried to explain but lost your voice as the panic set in, your chest felt restricted and the ever present beeping of the heart monitor picked up yet again as tears began to form in your terrified eyes.

Your parents tried to comfort you, only to be guided away by the nurses and doctors who had rushed in to your aid.

"Breathe with me sweetheart," Warm brown eyes stared into yours and you recognized Melissa right away, following her actions as she took deep breaths in and out, successfully calming your breathing. "Great job. You must really love this place, coming in on your day off." The older woman teased you softly, bringing a small smile to your face.

"Just can't stay away." You responded tiredly, causing her to smile and push your hair away from your forehead.

"Well you're in good hands because I'm going to be taking care of you." She told you with a wink, she then turned to your parents, Derek seemed to have slipped out of the room during the commotion, and smiled sympathetically, "We're going to change her bandages and then, if she's feeling up to it," She paused for a moment, glancing at you with a smile before finishing, "She can reassure the boy band out there that she's all good so they'll go home." Melissa finished with a laugh, motioning to the waiting room which you couldn't see.

"Isaac is here." Your father spoke softly, hoping to cheer you up as he peeked out the window, Melissa chiming in too, "And Scott. And Stiles. Jackson stopped by earlier too." You couldn't help how your eyes widened, you didn't even realize you knew that many people, let alone well enough for them to want to come check on you. Isaac was the only person in the line up that made any real sense.

Swallowing thickly, wincing slightly due to the sting you looked at Melissa hopefully, "Can I see them?"

The nurse nodded, "After I change this." She wasted no time in gently pulling the bandage from your skin, murmuring an apology when you winced.

*

Isaac, Scott and Stiles sat awkwardly beside each other in the waiting room of the hospital. The area was quiet and absolutely drenched in tension. 

Scott and Stiles were in the midst of a heated, but quiet, argument about something that Isaac couldn't discern, Scott's leg bounced nervously and he periodically glanced towards your room. The tallest of the boys picked up on Stiles' harsh whisper of, "Dude, relax okay? She's probably fine."

Isaac cleared his throat slightly, looking toward the other two boys who looked at him with surprised expressions as if they'd forgotten he was there, which to be fair they had.

"Um, I didn't realize you were friends with (Y/n)." Isaac spoke with a raised eyebrow, the question came out quietly, and Scott gave him a nervous nod, "Uh, I mean yeah- we haven't been friends for long but um she's cool."

Isaac wrung his fingers together, muttering, "Yeah she is." 

He couldn't lie, he felt a little twinge of jealousy towards Scott- feeling slightly threatened by the boy he'd only ever seen in the hallways and although Stiles sat beside him too, he sensed that coming to visit you was all Scott's idea, Scott he was threatened by, Stiles not so much.

"What's your deal anyway?" Stiles piped up, causing Isaac to chew on his bottom lip nervously wanting nothing more than to shrink into himself or melt into the floor, it wasn’t often that he didn’t have you for reassurance and to be perfectly honest he hated not having you beside him with your hand always mere centimetres away and ready for him to slip his own into.

"What do you mean?" Stiles rolled his eyes, "I mean with (Y/n), what's your deal with (Y/n)?"

Clearing his throat again, Isaac was at a loss for words, what exactly was his deal with you? You were his best friend but he was also harboring feelings for you. Looking at Stiles anxiously he simply shrugged his shoulders, "She's my best friend."

"Like watch movies together kinda best friend or you secretly want to marry her kinda best friend?" The sarcastic boy inquired curiously, receiving an elbow to the ribs from Scott who shot Isaac an apologetic smile, "Ignore him. I do."

Blood rushed towards Isaac's cheeks and he returned his gaze to where it had been on the floor, he knew the answer to Stiles' question but that didn't mean he was ready to be confronted with it, especially not so late at night when the girl in question was severely injured in a hospital room and he didn't even know if she was going to be okay.

*

"Jesus…" Melissa whispered, disinfecting the wound for the fourth time since you'd been emitted, "We're gonna need to give you some heavy medication because this thing is definitely infected." At her words your parents exchanged nervous glances, Derek was going to get an earful when they get ahold of him.

"Okay, all done. Which one of the Backstreet Boys should I send in first?" Melissa asked with an amused smirk, her comment receiving a snort from your father.

"Isaac please." You requested quietly, despite the fact that you'd just been mauled by a thing of nightmares you still felt bad about missing movie night with your best bud.

It only took a second for Isaac to be speeding into the room, eyes wide and bloodshot- he'd been crying.

"Thank God you're okay." He exclaimed, practically throwing his arms around you, careful of your injuries his arms pulled you against his chest and held your body against him.

His heartbeat was loud in your ears, not the same way as it usually was, it was like a drum banging right against your eardrums, it hurt but you didn't push the boy away, choosing to focus on the comfort he brought you instead of the pain.

"I'm okay." You assured softly, hand automatically moving to thread through his hair when you noticed his expression, or felt his expression more like. Pure anxiety, mixed with pure fear with an overwhelming feeling of relief. 

He nodded, eyes never leaving yours, "I was really worried." He still was, you could feel it weighing on your chest.

Without saying a word you simply pulled him back into you, noticing everyone else had left the room, you placed your lips on his cheeks with the intent of easing his worry, which seemed to work as the worry you previously felt crushing your chest dissipated completely.

"I don't know what I'd do if I lost you…" Isaac trailed off, holding your hand against his chest, the beating of his racing heart vibrating against your palm in a way it never had before, it's sound still just as loud as it had been a few seconds prior. 

Rushing filled your ears, like water flowing viciously down a river but it wasn't water. You knew what it was. It was blood- Isaac's blood. You could hear it pulsing through his veins rapidly, your hand right on the source and for whatever reason your mouth watered with a hunger you'd never felt before in your entire existence.

"(Y/n)!" Isaac calling your name broke you out of your trance. Shaking your head rapidly you squeezed his hand, "Sorry, I guess I'm just a little shaken up. I'm still here though so stop worrying, alright bub?" You told him, not quite sure if you believed a word of what you were telling him. Physically you were there with him but in every other sense you felt distant, numb almost.

"Are you sure? Is there anything I can do?" He asked sweetly, knowing that you were unsure, he hadn't seen you so shook up in, well, ever. 

Shaking your head, you merely managed a small smile as your head had begun to pound from the banging noises of not only Isaac's heart but now the bustle of the hospital going on outside of your room, you couldn't explain it but you could hear everything all at once. 

Every cough, every piece of equipment hitting every metal table, every piece of gossip being exchanged between the nurses, every wail of the newborns all the way over at the other side of the hospital. You could hear it all and it hurt. At first you hadn't noticed it so much but as the seconds past, you squeezed your best friend's hand as it became more and more overwhelming.

Shaking your head you looked at him with teary eyes, everything getting too loud, "Could you go find Melissa or-" you stopped, squeezing your eyes shut as every sound meshed together, ringing unbearably in your ears like a microphone pointed towards a speaker, "-or anyone. My head hurts really bad." 

Immediately Isaac was on his feet, leaving the room in a rush to find someone as you covered your ears, head splitting. You groaned painfully, tears flooding your cheeks as you tried to block out the noises only for them to grow louder and multiply almost to spite your efforts.

While focusing on blocking everything out, you heard a voice- a distinct voice. It was meant for you, you could feel it in your bones, the bite in your neck stinging viciously as you listened intently, searching for anything within the voice that would make it all just stop.

"You can hear me can't you. Yes you can. I'd hoped you'd take to the bite, it seems you have, maybe not how I originally intended but this will do. It's going to be hard but you can overcome this. Don't let it kill you."

The voice was assertive. Male. Familiar. The way he spoke reminded you of Peter, but it couldn't have been him, he hadn't spoken in years.

Then as soon as, whoever it was, stopped talking, it all flooded back in and you couldn't stop the agonizing scream that left your lips while you clutched your ears even tighter. You needed to get out.

In your panic you hadn't realized you'd rolled to the floor, wanting to move but not being able to so much as reopen your eyes after you'd made contact with the cold floor of the hospital room. Sobbing erratically while your ears began to burn, the feeling of liquid running down your face being  the only thing keeping you grounded while you shook and cried.

Long arms wrapped around your middle, holding you tightly against a chest that you couldn't see from your position, "(Y/n)?!" Isaac's panicked voice sent you even further into your spiral, only one word and yet you could hear every inflection of pain and hurt and confusion within his call of your name, and once again you could feel it. 

Your teary eyes met his frantic blue ones and you found yourself clutching the fabric of his sweatshirt with more strength than he'd ever known you to have, "Isacc. It's so loud! I want it to stop, god please do something, make it stop!" You sobbed against his chest causing him to look around with pure panic, pleading for someone, anyone to come and help you. Just then Melissa ran in, along with your parents and several doctors.

The last thing you heard before your eyes rolled to the back of your head was the stern voice of Melissa shouting, "Get her back on the bed. Now."

Don't let it kill you.

*

Opening your eyes felt like a chore, why were they so heavy? Once you finally managed to lift them open you slowly took in your new surroundings, no longer in the room you'd woken up in the first time. 

From what you could tell you were still in the hospital, just a different, darker room- a room without windows.

"You're finally awake." A voice sounded from beside your bed and you turned your gaze to meet Derek's.

"How's your head?" He asked, sitting forwards in his seat.

You offered him a small shrug, "Better. It's quiet." You heard nothing but your own heartbeat and Derek's.

Derek nodded, motioning around the room you were in, "sensory room." He explained, "sound proof."

Nodding in understanding you looked down at your neck peeking underneath your bandages, noticing the bite that was scabbing up, it looked absolutely vile. Scrunching up your face in disgust you turned back to Derek, "What the hell is happening to me?"

The older man let out a deep sigh at your question, raising an eyebrow before taking your hand, "You sure you want to hear it." 

"Hit me with it, wolf man." You told him through an exasperated sigh.

He rolled his eyes at the nickname before looking you dead in this eyes, "I thought when I saw your bite that what happened to Scott would happen to you… but it didn't." Your brows furrowed, "So I'm not a wolf?"

Derek shook his head, "No. But you're something else." Tilting your head to the side you nodded for him to continue before you imploded or the suspense killed you.

"Come on, tell me! If I'm not a wolf then what the fuck am I?" You insisted he give you an answer through gritted teeth, growing more impatient by the second.

Letting out another sigh, Derek looked at you through his lashes, "You're a vampire."

You scoffed, eyes rolling to the ceiling, "Derek be serious okay? I've watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer and I think I would know if I was a vampire-" "Hear me out-" "First of all, I'm not dead, vampires are dead. Second of all, vampires don't feel other people's emotions, I do, so explain that."

"You done?" Derek asked annoyance clear in his tone only for you to shrug nonchalantly.

"According to your parents you're in kind of a transition period. Nothing will be set in stone until you have your first feed." He explained, only for you to shake your head in denial.

"Thank you for clarifying nothing." You muttered, childishly.

"Alright fine. You're not dead because as I said right now you're in the transition period, however, if you don't feed you will be dead." 

"So you want me to drink blood?" You asked, although it was more of a statement.

Derek nodded, "Afraid so, kid."

"Where are my fangs?" You questioned. All vampires have fangs, your teeth felt the same as they always did.

"If I have to say the words transition period one more time, kid I swear-" Derek was cut off by yet another question falling from your lips, "Okay, so where do I stand with daylight?" 

"Look at your arms." Derek informed and you obliged, holding your arms up for inspection, they were covered in burns.

"Alright." You muttered in exhaustion. Allowing your arms to flop back down to your sides, "Ok next question." 

Derek felt his patience wearing thin, he loved you like a sister but you also annoyed him like one. When he didn't answer you asked your most pressing question.

"Why aren't I healing?" Derek let out a loud groan, letting go of your hand to rub it down his face. 

"What did I just say? Literally what did I just say?" The man grumbled and you rolled your eyes, "Transition period." You said mocking him, making a face and sticking your tongue out.

"You know, D. You're pretty cranky considering I'm the one whose just been pledged non-consensually to a life of darkness and blood sucking. With absolutely no explanation." You chastised with a playful smirk, noticing the smile the sour wolf was trying to contain.

*

It was after dark when you were finally discharged from the hospital, you'd spent about a week in that windowless room and you were just glad to feel the cold nights air against your skin after being cooped up for so long.

"Where are you taking me, Wolfie?" You asked, voice filled with uncertainty as you glanced at your newest friend and fellow creature of the night, Scott.

The boy only gave you a gentle smile, leading you towards the pet clinic and holding the door open for you to enter, "Oh god we're not getting you neutered are we?" You jested, trying to still your nerves.

"Afraid not." Another voice rang out, Deaton made his way into view and you gave him a small smile.

Deaton led you towards his practice, you sat up on the metal table, swinging your legs and waiting for some kind of explanation as to why Scott had brought you here.

"I assume by the look on your face that Scott failed to mention why you're here." Deaton spoke as if he heard your thoughts.

"Hey all you said was get her here!" Scott defended himself, hands raised slightly.

"Oh and you got here alright. Not suspicious or anything." You poked teasingly at his arm causing him to laugh. You wondered why you never talked to Scott before all the craziness happened because the two of you had been getting along incredibly in the past few days. He was one of the few people your parents allowed visit you in your windowless hospital room, claiming that since he was a wolf he was at a low risk of triggering your new vampire tendencies.

Deaton smiled, grabbing a small box from the counter then coming back to you, offering you the box, "Go on. It's for you." The older man encouraged when he noticed your hesitancy.

In the box there was a ring, it was pretty, silver with a small purple amethyst settled neatly in the center of the band, it was gorgeous to say the least. "It's a daylight ring. It'll allow you to walk the day as you please without getting burned." The vet, or … well you weren't sure what he was, explained kindly. "Put it on."

Happily you slipped the ring onto your left ring finger and admired it for a minute before turning your attention back to Deaton when he spoke again, "You have Scott to thank for that." He told you and your smile grew as you turned your head to Scott, "Thank you."

"Have you fed yet?" Deaton wondered and you shook your head in response. It'd been almost a week since Derek badly broke the news to you and yet you couldn't bring yourself to feed on human blood despite being absolutely starving.

In understanding, Deaton nodded, "You'll want to be thinking about doing it soon. Have you been having any urges?" Quickly your eyes widened when you realized when the hunger had started.

"After I woke up... Isaac came to see me and he was holding my hand to his chest, his heartbeat sounded so loud and I could hear the blood being pumped and then suddenly I had the most blinding hunger." You explained, looking at Deaton expectantly for answers.

"Has it happened like that with anyone else?" You shook your head as it'd only been so intense when looking at Isaac, who you hadn't seen since that night, your parents not wanting to risk you hurting the boy, when you focused on him that night in the hospital it was as if he was all you could see, all you could feel and his blood rushing and heart beating was all you could hear. But you hadn't wanted to hurt him, he made you hungry but you didn't feel the need or want to rip his throat out with your teeth as you assumed you should have.

 "I don't want to hurt anyone, though. I'm just hungry." You added on, unsure of whether or not being docile was normal for a baby vampire.

Deaton chuckled lightly placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, "Vampires are different than wolves, more refined. They're fueled on empathy as opposed to anger. Media has painted them in somewhat of a bad light when in reality they're quite gentle creatures. They mostly only feed on the willing." He explained and you listened intently as he continued.

"The hunger isn't hard to control as you've probably already noticed. It's the heightened emotions that are hardest to control- along with learning to separate your own feelings from the feelings of others around you." 

Emotions weren't something you were good at controlling at the best of times, the possibility of you becoming overwhelmed very soon after fully transitioning seemed more than likely as you already had one meltdown under your belt.

"Then there's the matter of enhanced hearing. Scott tells me you've found that aspect quite difficult, but not to worry, it'll subside once you complete the transition and you'll be able to control what you can and can't hear."

"Thank God." You muttered through a sigh, shuddering at the memory of the migraine the ability had brought you.

Deaton went on to explain the other abilities that would develop after you completed your transition. These abilities included an extremely enhanced sense of empathy, meaning your own emotions were heightened as well as now being able to feel and change the emotions of others. Enhanced hearing, obviously. An enhanced sense of smell, inhuman strength and speed and once you’d finally fed on a willing participant your fangs would begin to grow in. Deaton warned you that that part would be “excruciatingly painful.”

After a while you parted with Scott and Deaton, enjoying the nighttime air as you walked yourself home, once you reached your house you made your way inside quickly, impatient to fill your patents in on what you’d learned from Deaton seeing as their supernatural knowledge focused more on traditional shapeshifters and Celtic lore.

Once you entered the kitchen you spotted your mother chatting quietly with Isaac. You couldn’t lie, you were really happy to see him. Last time you’d seen him you were screaming and passing out in his arms.

“Isaac.” You greeted with a smile, wrapping your arms around his shoulders while standing behind the chair he was sitting on since the back of the chair faced the kitchen door which you had just entered through, you rested your cheek against his soft curls when you felt his arms coming up to hug yours with a feeling of relief rushing over him as soon as you touched him.

“Hey (N/n).” The boy responded, holding back a sigh as he felt you remove your arms from him opting to take a seat beside him, he watched as you eyed your mother suspiciously before asking, “What’re you too chatting about?”

Isaac spoke up, “I got your text saying that you were discharged and came to see you, your mom was just telling me how you were out with Scott.” It didn’t hit your ear but the bitterness and mild jealousy hit your chest, causing you to frown momentarily before you painted a smile on your face, “Oh yeah he just brought me to talk to Dr Deaton to see if he could identify what kind of animal attacked me.” You lied easily, not wanting to disclose why you were really with Scott knowing that after not seeing you for a week that now definitely wasn’t the best time to let him know that you and Scott were helping each other.

Accepting your excuse you felt relief seeping from him yet again. You wondered if he’d always been this possessive over you, you didn’t mind it really you just hoped he’d be able to get passed it considering you’ll be spending a lot more time with Scott and even Stiles for the foreseeable future.

You had no clue what you were going to tell him though. How do you tell your best friend that they’ve been turned into a vampire and now want nothing more than to taste his blood on your tongue? As soon as you locked eyes on him your hunger returned, as blinding as it had been the first time. Your only wish was that the unique hunger you had for Isaac would ease once you completed your transition. Accidentally hurting him was absolutely out of the question. You wouldn’t let yourself harm even a hair on his head, the way he made your mouth water filled you with dread but you had to try your best to keep him out of the shitshow you found yourself in.

He’d been through enough, he didn’t need vampires and werewolves on top of the rest of his issues. So you made a decision then and there while you stared at his soft smile as he talked with your mother; for the first time in your six years of friendship, you were going to keep a secret from him.

[hermannsthumb]

Please do holiday prompt 85 (unexpected apology)!

85. we haven’t been friends for years but we both end up at a mutual friend’s holiday party and you apologize for how things went down between us (which I wasn’t expecting in a million years)

from winter writing prompts here

it’s that time of year again everyone.....ive been so busy with school and zine stuff that im taking a little break to write this today ☺️ set very late 2019, before the Events of 2020

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

It occurs to Hermann as he stands amongst a handful of society’s most monied and high-ranking—mulled wine in hand, stiff suit buttoned too-tight around his neck—that he is not only completely out of his element, but residing at a level of desperation that he cringes to even consider. Hermann does not schmooze; Hermann has never had the capacity to schmooze; in all of his previous attempts at schmoozing (typically at the bequest of his father, who would tote Hermann around as a conversation piece at fundraising events), Hermann would come across invariably as disingenuous, uptight, and arrogant, and certainly not someone with whom one would entrust large cheques made out to the PPDC for.

Yes; desperation. To borrow the cliché, desperate times call for desperate measures. To borrow another, war changes man. Robots wage war on monsters from another world, the UN wages war on the jaeger program’s budget, and Hermann must wage war on prospective PPDC donors if he wishes to still be employed by the New Year. He can’t decide which sounds more horrendous, really.

“Would you like more wine, Dr. Gottlieb?” a passing waiter asks Hermann, and Hermann shakes his head.

“No, thank you,” he says. Hermann has always been a maudlin drunk; he doesn’t fancy risking over-drinking tonight, and making an embarrassment of himself by confessing to perfect strangers that his parents never loved him or that he fears he’ll never make a true human connection.

“Dr. Gottlieb?” someone says, incredulously.

Oh, bugger. He’s been found out. Hermann sighs, flattens down his cowlick, and plasters on a fake smile: the time has come for him to, er, lie back and think of the PPDC, so to speak. Hopefully it’ll go fast.

But when Hermann turns, it’s not to find some acquaintance of his father, or a perfect stranger familiar with his work, or even a distant colleague; it’s to find one Newton Geiszler (who Hermann may have considered a colleague, once, but certainly not anymore), dressed in a horrendous eyesore of a gold (gold) suit, nursing a large red cocktail in each hand, and staring at Hermann like he can’t decide if he wants to say something or turn and run. Hermann mirrors his stare. A pin could drop between them, and Hermann reckons, despite the undercurrent of music and chatter, they would be able to hear it.

Hermann is the one to break it. “Newton,” he says. Then he amends, quickly, “Dr. Geiszler. I wasn’t aware…” He coughs. He suddenly wishes he took another mulled wine, and wonders if it’s too late to summon back the waiter. “You are…here.”

“Uh,” Newton says. “Yeah.”

The last time Hermann saw Newton Geiszler, they were standing under an awning outside a Starbucks while a torrential downpour of rain pounded against the sidewalk and soaked their shoes. Hermann was shouting. Newton was shouting, too, and he may have also been crying. They had been asked to leave the building on account of it. That was nearly three years ago. “Er,” Hermann says. “Business? Or pleasure?”

Newton has hardly changed in the almost-three years; his hair remains thick and unruly, his jaw in bad need of a shave, his glasses smudged and slightly crooked. The suit is a bloody eyesore, though. Hermann imagines Newton thought it was festive. “Business.” Newton snorts. “God, you think I’d come here for fun? I haven’t had the money for a new sample in months, it was either this or, I don’t know, sticking mutated fish under microscopes. Kaiju blue poisoning. Been there done that, and not what I need to be doing now, you know? And you can thank your dad for that too, not having any fucking samples to work with, I mean, and his stupid wall—but I guess that’s why you’re here too. I heard they’re talking about pulling the plug on the jaeger program.”

Newton speaks quickly, and with a bewildering tendency to leap between topics like a game of hopscotch, something Hermann had quite forgotten. (They’d only met the once, after all, and Newton disguises it better in writing.) He follows it nonetheless. “Yes, well, they’re still only just rumors,” Hermann says, though he knows (with a certainty) that one more major failing of a jaeger might spell the end of it, “and I certainly hope they stay as such. I take it you’re with the PPDC now, then?”

Newton jerks a thumb towards the waistband of his gold suit, spilling a bit of his cocktail on the floor; Hermann at last notices the PPDC badge clipped to it. Newton’s grin is identical to the one in his photograph. “Hell yeah, dude,” he says. “They finally hired me about a month after we—” The corners of his mouth twitch down, ever so slightly. “—uh, got coffee.”

It had been a long-standing complaint of Newton’s, back when they wrote each other, that the PPDC was perfectly happy to use his research but turned a blind eye whenever he submitted yet another application for their k-science research team. Personality conflicts, Hermann always presumed. He and Newton certainly had plenty. Perhaps Hermann’s not the only one who’s grown desperate—a thought he scolds himself for the unkindness of a moment later. Newton is a brilliant scientist despite his difficulties and their past. “Of course,” Hermann says. “Well, congratulations. I hadn’t heard.”

“Wine?” a passing waiter asks them.

Newton shakes his head. Hermann takes one this time, gratefully.

“It’s been alright,” Newton says. He downs the entirety of the red cocktail in his right hand. “Like I said. Not many samples to work with. They had me stationed over in Vladivostok, but I got leave for the holidays. And for this I guess.”

“I’ve been in Seattle,” Hermann says. “I reckon they’ll be transferring me soon, though I haven’t an idea where.” More rumors, of course.

For a moment he allows himself the brief fantasy of being transferred somewhere with Newton, or perhaps it’s more of a fear than a fantasy—year after year of this sort of insufferable awkwardness? Being forced to work together? It’s something Hermann had longed for in the past, spending every day with his marvelous penpal at his side. It instills a sort of nausea in him now. Newton touches his arm before Hermann has the chance to excuse himself hide in the loo. “Hey, dude, listen,” Newton says. “About us getting coffee. I feel like I owe you an apology.”

Hermann can’t help it; he snorts, though he immediately regrets it. Newton, at least, does not look offended. “Do you?” Hermann says. Two and a half bloody years too late.

“I mean it,” Newton says. He blinks earnestly at Hermann, and squeezes Hermann’s arm. “I screwed it all up that day, and I could’ve—I don’t know, written, or texted, or anything to apologize, but I didn’t. And that was shitty of me. So I’m sorry, I really am. And…yeah. That’s it, I guess.”

It’s the last thing Hermann expected to hear today. It’s the last thing he expected to hear from Newton. The radio silence following that disastrous day at the coffee shop had been awful—and it’d been infuriating, too. Where had they even gone wrong that day? Hermann can’t remember anymore. Probably a fight over something inconsequential. “I see,” Hermann says. “Well. Er. Thank you, Newton. Your apology is...appreciated.”

“Cool,” Newton says.

He stares at Hermann expectantly.

“Oh,” Hermann says. “And I’m sorry, too, I suppose.”

“Cool,” Newton repeats.

He smiles at Hermann, and Hermann is momentarily suffocated by it, and the sudden reemergence of feelings he thought he’d quashed years ago. Newton is still very attractive. Very, very attractive. Hermann’s arm is warm and tingly from where Newton touched him, and he realizes the warmth is spreading up to his neck and cheeks—he’s blushing. “Hey, wanna check out the snack table with me?” Newton says. “I love the rich people food at shit like this. The last one I went to had oysters, which is totally weird. Like, it’s a gala.”

Hermann decides to accept it as the strange peace offering it obviously is meant to be. “Alright,” he says. “Though, I insist you explain your monstrosity of a suit first.”

“It’s classy,” Newton says. “Anyway, you’re one to talk, buddy.”

[theuntamednarrator]

Shenanigans on the High Seas

from @trensu​, the blog that brought you WangXiantics, and from that other blog that just, like, screams a lot in the tags, comes the AU that we all desperately need because, frankly, we’re a little dehydrated from crying over the Nie Bros (drumroll please)

PIRATE AU!!!

You know you want it

the Zidian is Jiang Cheng’s ship. he inherited it from his mother, who was known as the Violet Spider, Scourge of the Seven Seas

before she retired, Captain Yu had two first mates she’d trained since childhood, Wen Qing and Luo Qingyang

after Captain Yu retired they got married and are now Pirate Wives with an-all female crew aboard the Yiling Matriarch

her bright red sails are just as feared as the purple sails of Zidian or the sable sails of Ghost General

any man who sets foot on the Matriarch best be prepared to lose it, and the leg it’s attached to

rumour has it that every carpenter from beijing to budapest pays the Matriarch a commission, for keeping them in work making peg legs, but that’s just a rumour

JC captains the Zidian alongside his first mate Jiang Yanli

the rumours about her say that she’s the reason there’s so little murdering done by those aboard the Zidian

but the crew know she once ordered a captive tied to a chunk of bait and thrown overboard near Shark Reef Bay

granted, she let the crew fish him back out after the first bite, and Jin Zixun never said another word about Captain Wei Wuxian until he was ransomed

but still

speaking of WWX, he captains the Ghost General, though far from doing any actual captaining he’s usually to be found up in the crow’s nest with a bottle of rum and his flute

luckily, his trusted first mate Wen Ning is more than capable of handling the General

his very favourite targets are the Jin Company’s slave traders, and most of his crew are former captives who chose to stay with him after their rescue

regardless of how drunk he might be, no one can fight like Captain WWX, except perhaps JC and JYL, they did grow up together after all!

because WWX was a foundling fished from the wreckage of a vanquished merchant ship by the Violet Spider at age 6 and taken to the island hideaway where her lover, former merchant sailor turned stay-at-home-dad Jiang Fengmian, is raising their two children

because this is a HAPPY AU DANGIT, and we deserve ONE AU where these two don’t traumatise their children

Captain Yu and JFM are in fact very, very happy together and raise little WWX together alongside JYL and JC

Captain Yu and JFM met when she raided his ship

he offered himself and all the gold aboard in return for his crew’s lives

she thought him rather striking and went about setting him up on a little island she knew, very out of the way, where she can visit as often as she likes

JFM is DELIGHTED by this turn of events, which he loudly denies has anything to do with Captain Yu’s famed skill with a whip

while JFM was settling into his sugar baby life, his crew were returning back to their home port to report to JFM’s business partner, Lan Qiren, that the Violet Spider had killed JFM and taken all their gold

LQR, who had secretly been in love with his best friend and business partner for years, declares the Violet Spider his ARCH NEMESIS and sets about trying to destroy her

when his brother and sister-in-law die and leave his two nephews in his care he ropes them into the feud

the Lan Brothers both join the merchant navy and are the very most eligible bachelors polite society has to offer

they hate all pirates of course but especially the unholy trio of Zidian, Ghost General, and the Yiling Matriarch

this makes it VERY awkward when Lan Wangji finds himself THROWN OVERBOARD during a terrible storm, rescued by WWX, and dragged aboard the General

at first, recognising the uniform, WWX keeps LWJ under his eye by tying their wrists together with a length of rope for absolutely no other reason definitely not cause he’s cute, nope, no sir

later, LWJ manages to snatch a sword and an EPIC DUEL ENSUES *cue he’s a pirate (main theme) from PotC here*

they’re in the rigging, they're sliding down the sails, they’re fighting up and down the deck

LWJ is HORRIFIED to realise at one point that WWX is laughing

even worse, he, LWJ, is having fun??? wtf he’s never had fun in his life how dare

after the fight ends in a draw LWJ and WWX come to an Understanding and have many deep and meaningful conversations as they sail back towards port

both of them fall madly in love of course, but Pirate!WWX and Midshipman!LWJ are just as emotionally dense as the OG varieties so there’s A LOT of pining

Seriously- so. much. pining

they probably battle a sea monster at some point because that’d be sick

finally, they arrive back at the port and WWX asks (sadly, because pining) where he should leave him and LWJ says (sadly, because pining) that any of the Gusu Cloud piers is fine

and WWX laughs because how funny! my dad used to be a merchant sailor for the Gusu Cloud Company

which is how LWJ discovers that the ‘dad’ WWX has been telling stories about for literal WEEKS is actually his uncle's now not-so-long-lost-love!because they are both Disaster Drama Gays™ they decide they simply MUST do this Right. After all, it’s an Epic Reunion™!!!

LWJ convinces his uncle to come out sailing with him (even though LQR has not boarded a ship since JFM was lost, cue sweeping nostalgic music and distant stare into montage of the two of them in their Youth)

they row him blindfolded out to the island where JFM and Captain Yu live and the moment LQR sees JFM it’s jaws to the floor.

there are tears

JFM puts his hands on LQR’s shoulders and says ‘my old friend. you never said’

they hug

it’s adorable

don’t roll your eyes it’s adorable and you know it

Captain Yu and LQR still Do Not Get Along

their Epic Rivalry™ continues but now it’s just morphed into them trying to outdo each other in displays of affection

JFM’s little island house soon holds more jewels, gold, fine silk, and artwork than half the royal coffers of europe

family dinners are a DELIGHT

JC freaking runs whenever his father hosts Captain Yu and LQR for dinner

because 1) god dad, you're so embarrassing, and 2) HE DOES NOT WANT TO HEAR ANYTHING THEY GET UP TO BEHIND CLOSED DOORS THANKS

JYL thinks it's sweet and loves seeing her dad so happy

WWX does the pirate-time equivalent of a bro fistbump with JFM, like, NICE.

LWJ is very quiet but secretly loves it because he, as we all know, is That Bitch

‘A wedding! I love it! drinks all round!’ – WWX, probably, when the three finally announce they’re getting married

the wedding is WILD

there’s a whole lot of dancing, WWX is in the thick of it of course

LWJ wants so badly to ask him to dance but he still hasn’t told him how he feels (because emotionally dense disaster gays, remember?)

he finally has to go outside after WWX somehow convinces LQR to dance a jig with him which means WWX has officially asked everyone to dance except him

he goes and sits in the tidal rockpool, and his billowy white shirt is all wet and see through when WWX comes stumbling out of the party calling for him

WWX sees LWJ silhouetted by an endless horizon of ocean and stars and dies. he's quiet for the first time in his whole life

then LWJ turns and sees him so of course WWX has to go down and talk to him. he may be a pirate but he’s not a barbarian (unlike some certain nies we could name but won’t he’s definitely not still salty about the arm wrestle incident with Captain Nie’s ‘little brother’ eh he’s not much of a fighter but he’s great with languages yeah right his wrist still hurts sometimes bloody barbarians)

‘ah lan zhan lan zhan! you aren’t allowed to run away; we haven’t had a dance yet. even your uncle danced with me surely you can’t say no!’ *pouts*

lwj.exe has stopped working

but of course he can’t deny WWX anything so he makes to head back inside

now wwx.exe has stopped working

because to HELL if he’s sharing wet LWJ in a see though white shirt with the rest of those imbeciles

‘ah, um lan zhan lan zhan we can hear the music from here just fine can’t we? let’s just dance right here?’

and of course LWJ says yes

so the two of them just dance together on the edge of the ocean, waves lapping over their bare feet

until a particularly big one knocks them flat (listen, it’s a trope for a REASON dagnabbit)

WWX ends up sprawled over LWJ’s chest and he’s laughing and apologizing

but LWJ is just looking at him, wreathed in stars, eyelashes so wet and glittering, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen

WWX notices how still he is and they just pause for a moment and stare at each other

doesn’t really matter who kisses who but they are kissing and it’s wet and salty, there is sand in their teeth, and they absolutely do not give a flying dutchman

they don’t even register the cheers and catcalling until JC runs up and dumps a bucket of water over their heads

because dammit he hasn’t spent months running out of every room his parents and LQR are in just to watch his big brother pop his cherry get it on on the beach

the rest of the gang are all watching from the porch

WN and LXC look very awkward and embarrassed

JYL looks fond and is shaking her head

JC meanwhile is having a heated argument with WQ because there were bets on you see

WQ ‘pouring a bucket of water over them is cheating I’m not paying you one penny JC’

JC ‘I’m a pirate why on earth would you expect me to play by the rules pay up Captain’

WWX and LWJ sneak away while they’re all arguing

The General has one new crew member when she next sails out

ANYWAY married gay pirates wangxian having adventures AU is what we’re saying

Also for your consideration other delightful Pirate!AU options include:

naval officer!lwj chasing down pirate!wwx (think norrington/sparrow if Disney weren’t COWARDS);

high society!lwj in love with blacksmith-turned-pirate!wwx (the Elizabeth Swann/Will Turner dynamic, except with Swann in the forge fight because we said so);

davy jones!lwj pining for calypso!wwx (carving your heart out = chest brand anyone? seriously, just imagine LWJ setting foot on dry land for the first time in 13, 16, 10 YEARS, playing the song he’s composed for his love and WWX IS NOT THERE!!!!) 

[searchingwardrobes]

Start of Time: 7/9

In this chapter, Wendy/Emma worries things will be awkward after the kiss, and "Wendy's" real life may be closer than she thinks.

Summary: Killian and his son are driving through a bad snow storm when they find a disoriented woman walking down the road. The question is, how can they help her get home when she has no idea who she is? Written for @teamhook​ on her birthday.

Rating: T

Trigger warning: Alice Jones appears in this fic and Alice and Henry are both Killian’s adopted children with Milah. Henry isn’t Emma’s. Positive past Millian. No Neal.

Words: about 2,500 in this chapter

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals::@snowbellewells​ @kmomof4​@jennjenn615​ @kday426​ @let-it-raines​ @bethacaciakay​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @thislassishooked​ @tiganasummertree​​@whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @snidgetsafan​​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​​ @winterbaby89​​ @distant-rose@shireness-says​​ @xhookswenchx​​ @optomisticgirl​​ @spartanguard​​ @branlovestowrite​​ @welllpthisishappening​​ @stahlop​​ @hollyethecurious​ @ekr032-blog-blog​ @scientificapricot​ @wellhellotragic​ @vvbooklady1256​ @sherlockianwhovian​ @superchocovian​ @nikkiemms​ @lfh1226-linda​  @ultraluckycatnd​ @ohmakemeahercules​ 

Wendy had a fitful night sleep as she replayed the kiss in her mind. Sometimes she fantasized about it - her heart pounding as she remembered the feel of his lips on hers and his fingers lightly tracing her skin. Other times she beat herself up for grabbing him like that. It wasn’t fair to him at all when she had another life out there to return to. He was a father, too, which made it ten times worse. She hadn’t just gotten too close to Killian - she’d gotten far too close to Henry and Alice as well. She was an awful person, there was no way around it.

She also tossed and turned wondering how in the world she could face him again. First she’d initiated a kiss, and then she’d pushed him away? She’d seen the tormented look on his face - as if he’d done something wrong. She punched her pillow in irritation a couple of times before giving up on sleep altogether.

It was a quarter past four in the morning when she slipped from her room and headed down the stairs. She paused at the bottom step when she thought she heard sounds coming from the deep recesses of the house. She tilted her head. Was that . . . music? Wherever it was coming from, it was faint. She veered around the kitchen, heading towards the hallway off the foyer instead. She’d never ventured into this part of the house. She knew it led to the garage and Killian’s veterinary office on the other side, but she’d never had reason to go there.

Wendy slowly eased open the door to the garage. It was surprisingly warm, though still a bit chillier than the rest of the house. She flipped on a light switch and gasped in surprise at what she saw. She knew the Joneses didn’t keep their vehicles in here, and she had heard Alice mention painting in the garage, but she hadn’t expected this. The room was insulated and heated, for one. The floor was still concrete, though, and for good reason - Alice had free reign to be as creative and messy as she wanted. The floor was splattered in a haphazard way with various colors, and glitter and tiny bits of paper added to the creative mess. There was an unfinished oak table in the center of the room with matching oak chairs. These were also splattered with paint and scribbled all over with markers and crayon. Two easels were set up: one was a chalkboard, and one held a canvas. Bins lined the opposite wall, filled with all the art supplies a girl could dream of: buttons, pom poms, pipe cleaners, stickers, glitter, and half a dozen others. A cabinet next to it was littered with various mediums from acrylic paints to oil pastels. It was a legit art studio, and Killian had made this for his daughter.

The music she had heard was coming from her left, through a door that she assumed led to Killian’s office. He had told her the entrance for customers was on the outside of the house, but she also knew the kids had access to his space from inside the house. This must be it. Wendy’s lips ticked up in a smile as she imagined Alice interrupting her dad to show him her latest creation.

She tiptoed across the floor, the concrete ice cold even through her socks. Slowly Wendy opened the door. Killian’s back was to her and at first she wasn’t sure why he was hunched over. As she stepped into the room, it became clear: he was playing the guitar. He was singing, too.

“Touch your lips just so I know. In your eyes, love, it glows so. I’m bare-boned and crazy for you when you come crash into me, baby . . . “

He hummed then, either because he didn’t know the rest of the words or because he was concentrating on strumming, and Wendy cleared her throat. He startled at the sound, then relaxed when he turned in his chair and saw her.

“Sorry,” she apologized, “I couldn’t sleep, and then I heard music . . .”

She trailed off as she realized that she was doing the very thing that had kept her up - facing him. The early hour had given a surreal quality to everything, but now it slammed into her that he was only a few feet away. If he felt as awkward as she did, however, he didn’t show it.

“No, no, don’t apologize. I hope I didn’t keep you up. I usually don’t disturb the kids way out here -”

“No, it was fine, really. I was already up. I could barely hear it, but I was curious.”

He simply nodded. “I’m a bit rusty,” he confessed. “Hope it didn’t sound too bad.”

“Not at all. And you have a great voice.”

He ducked his head, blushing at her praise. Wendy found a folding chair and dragged it over so she could sit down. She reached her hand out towards the instrument.

“May I?”

“Of course,” Killian told her, pulling the strap up and over his head and relinquishing the guitar.

A thrill went through her - it felt so familiar, so right in her hands. She put the strap around her shoulders, then adjusted the guitar on her thigh. She plucked a few strings, then began to strum. Once she felt comfortable, it just came to her, and she was suddenly playing a guitar solo. Killian’s eyes widened, and she just grinned. She transitioned to strumming as she began to sing.

“If we still have time, we might still get by. Every time I think about it, I want to cry. With bombs and the devil, and the kids keep comin’. No way to breathe easy, no time to be young. But I tell myself I was doin’ alright. There’s nothin’ left to do at night but go crazy on you. Crazy on you. Let me go crazy, crazy on you.”

She trailed off when she saw how Killian’s jaw had dropped. Her own mouth hung open in shock as she stopped the sound of the guitar with her flattened palm.

“I can sing!” she exclaimed. “And I know how to play the guitar!”

Killian blinked and shook his head. “That’s an understatement love! That’s Nancy Wilson’s guitar solo you just played! My God, lass!”

“Yeah,” Wendy mused, “Nancy Wilson from Heart. That’s not easy to play, is it?”

“Not like that it isn’t! I’m sort of embarrassed that you heard me muddling around just now.”

She shrugged. “I thought you had promise,” she teased.

He laughed and shoved her playfully in the knee. “Come to think of it, I did hear you belting out ‘Brass in Pocket’ the first night you were here.”

“Wait a minute!” Wendy exclaimed. “I was singing that in the shower!”

Killian’s face turned bright red and he scratched furiously behind his ear. “I was just leaving you some clothes, I swear. I turned right back around!”

Laughter bubbled up out of her. “I thought one of the kids left those clothes. They were all balled up and half falling on the floor.”

“I told you I got out of their post haste!”

They were both laughing now, and it felt wonderful. She should have known he wouldn’t make things awkward. She stared down at the guitar in her lap and idly strummed.

“About you not sleeping -”

“Don’t, Killian, please.”

“We need to talk about that kiss.”

“No, we don’t. It was a . . . one-time thing.”

Killian sighed and then stood wearily to his feet. “As you wish.” He made his way slowly to the door. “You coming?”

“Would it be alright if I stayed in here and played a little longer?”

He smiled gently at her. “Of course, love. God knows that guitar deserves someone with more talent than me.”

The sadness infusing his words lingered long after he’d left, and Wendy could only hum while picking out a few chords. Then, suddenly, words that she knew were in no recorded song she had ever heard before, yet were familiar all the same bubbled up out of her along with a melody for the instrument in her hands.

“Once I lived in darkness out there on my own. Left to brave the world alone. Everything seemed hopeless, no chance to break free. Couldn’t hear the song inside of me.”

She stilled the music with her palm once more. Where the hell had that come from?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steam rose up from the colander where Killian was draining the pasta. Behind him, the oven timer starting going off.

“Henry, can you grab the garlic bread?”

Henry hopped up from the kitchen island where he was finishing his homework, grabbed an oven mitt, and slid the bread from the oven.

“When are Alice and Wendy gonna get home? I’m starving!”

Killian smiled as he shook his head ruefully. It seemed like the boy was always “starving.”

“I’m sure they’ll be back any minute. I hope so anyway. This food is gonna get cold.”

As if their conversation had summoned them, the front door suddenly burst open and his daughter’s giggles blended with Wendy’s laughter. The sound made his heart clench and his smile widen. He looked over his shoulder as the two of them tumbled into the kitchen, dropping bags on the table.

“Come see what we got Daddy!” said Alice.

Killian wiped his hands on a kitchen towel. “Okay, but only for a minute. We don’t want the food to get cold.”

“Where’s Mary Margaret?” Henry asked with a frown.

“She had to get home and help David with something with the horses,” Wendy told him, “but she said to tell you hi.”

“Okay, girls, what do we have?” Killian asked.

“This is mine,” Alice said, digging something white and frilly out of one of the thrift store bags. She shook it out and held it up for them to see.

“An apron?” Henry scoffed.

“I’m gonna be Alice, get it?” Alice pressed the apron to her torso and frowned at her brother. “You know - Alice in Wonderland. I’ll wear this over my blue Easter dress.”

“Oh,” Henry said, “I see.”

“We also bought some blue ribbon at the craft store to tie around her hair,” Wendy added.

“And this . . . “ Alice announced dramatically, pulling a long, stainy, light blue nightgown with capped sleeves out of the other thrift store bag, “is for Wendy.”

“We’re casting ourselves to type,” Wendy said to Killian with a shrug.

“I like it. But this is a couple’s dance.”

“Daddy, we know that,” Alice countered with a roll of her eyes. “You and Henry will match us. So Wendy is - well, Wendy, so you can be Peter Pan.”

Killian narrowed his eyes. “I am not going as Peter Pan. You are not getting me in green tights.”

Wendy and Alice exchanged knowing glances. Wendy reached into a bag from the party supply store. “We had a feeling you’d say that, so we got you this.”

Killian chuckled as he took it from her. “A plastic hook. Okay, I’ll go with it.”

“I thought we should get a pirate hat too, but Wendy said you wouldn’t go for it.”

Killian caught the woman’s eye. “She already knows me so well.”

Wendy glanced away as a blush stained her cheeks.

“What about me?” Henry demanded.

“Well, since I’m Alice, we got you this.”

“Sweet!” Henry exclaimed as his sister handed him a tall, purple velour hat with a giant fake price tag attached. He plopped it on his head and grinned up at Killian. “Can I borrow one of your vests, Dad?”

“Sure, son.”

“We are going to look so cool!” Alice squealed as she jumped up and down. She grasped Wendy around the waist, and the woman hugged her back with enthusiasm.

“I know,” Wendy agreed, “I’m so proud of us! And we only spent like twenty bucks!”

Killian watched his daughter planning out her costume with Wendy, and first his heart warms at the way the two of them have bonded. On the heels of that emotion, sadness washed over him as he realized that his daughter could also get hurt.

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

Zelena Green really thought that that teaching her spinning class would get all of her frustrations out, but she stepped out of the showers fuming just as much as she had when she’d arrived that afternoon. Her mother had always warned her she came on too strong with men, but Killian Jones had really seemed to be warming up to her. Until this infuriating Wendy person showed up. Amnesia? Yeah, right. Zelena was a master of manipulation, and even she hadn’t stooped low enough to try that tactic.

As Zelena stomped out of the locker room, her students gave her a wide berth, many of them still struggling to breathe after the torture she’d put them through. She ignored the teenager at reception, her boss asking to speak with her, and the tiny brunette named Dorothy who cried out in irritation when Zelena practically bowled her over. Curses spilled from her mouth when she collided with a corner of one of the tables in the lobby littered with magazines. They all slid to the floor, and Zelena cursed again. She tossed her gym bag down and started scooping them up.

She froze when she saw a copy of last month’s Rolling Stone. Normally, the small blurb on the members of a moderately successful female indie rock band going solo wouldn’t have caught her attention.

But there was a blonde in the picture she had seen before.

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

“Ms. Mills, you have a call on line one from a Zelena Green that you really need to take.”

“I don’t know anyone by that name,” Regina told her assistant archly, “so just say I’m busy.”

“Begging your pardon, but I really think you need to hear what she has to say.”

Regina rolled her eyes as she swiveled her chair to face the incompetent woman interrupting her. “And why is that?”

“Because she says Emma Swan is stuck in rural Maine with a case of amnesia.”

[arpmemething2]

Sherlock starter sentences

Send one for my muse’s reaction

"I wrote my own version of the Nativity when I was a child, "The Hungry Donkey". It was a bit gory, but if you're going to put a baby in a manger you're asking for trouble."

"I was just playing the game."

"I can't make bricks without clay."

"I play the violin when I'm thinking and sometime I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you?"

"You were thinking.  It's annoying."

"Oh, hell! What does that matter? So we go round the Sun! If we went round the Moon, or round and round the garden like a teddy bear, it wouldn’t make any difference."

"Not important? It's primary school stuff! How can you not know that?"

"I'm not a hero, I'm a high-functioning sociopath!  Merry Christmas!"

"What's the point in being clever if you can't prove it?"

"And exactly how many times did he fall out the window?"

"There was once a merchant in the famous market at Baghdad. One day he saw a stranger looking at him in surprise and he knew that the stranger was Death. Pale and trembling, the merchant fled the marketplace and made his way many, many miles to the city of Samarra, for there he was sure Death could not find him. But when at last he came to Samarra, the merchant saw, waiting for him, the grim figure of Death. “Very well,” said the merchant. “I give in. I am yours. But tell me, why did you look surprised when you saw me this morning in Baghdad?”, “Because,” said Death, “I had an appointment with you tonight – in Samarra.”"

"And we're having quite a lot of sex."

"You are a living, breathing man. You've lived a life; you have a past."

"Look at them. They all care so much. Do you ever wonder if there's something wrong with us?"

"I've always been able to keep myself distant. Divorce myself from feelings. But you see, body's betraying me. Interesting, yes? Emotions... grit on the lens, the fly in the ointment."

"Look, this is a six. There's no point in my leaving the flat for anything less than a seven, we agreed. Now go back, show me the grass."

"What a couple of lightweights! You couldn’t even make it to closing time!"

"She provides, shall we say, "recreational scolding" to those who enjoy that sort of thing and are prepared to pay for it."

"Sex doesn't alarm me."

"No idea why people think you’re incapable of human emotion."

"Careful! Some of those skulls are over two hundred thousand years old! Have a bit of respect!"

"You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk."

"Down girl."

"Don't talk out loud.  You lower the IQ of the whole street."

"That's not what people normally say."

"Should I answer chronologically or alphabetically?"

"I've got a better question: is everyone I've ever met a psychopath?"

"Kill you? Um, no. Don't be obvious. I mean, I'm gonna kill you anyway, someday. I don't want to rush it, though. I'm saving it up for something special. No no no no no, if you don't stop prying... I'll burn you. I will burn... the heart out of you."

"No, I just said that in one of your stories."

"You think he lost a lot of money? Suicide is common among city boys."

"He will outlive God trying to have the last word."

"Listen, what I said before, I meant it. I don't have friends; I've just got one."

"I'm not dead.  Let's have dinner."

"So he'll have to make a speech in front of people. There will be actual people there actually listening."

"Don't make people into heroes. Heroes don't exist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them."

"Stop talking, it makes me aware of your existence."

"This is my game face.  And the game is on."

"Oh, I may be on the side of the angels... but don't think for one second that I am one of them."

"We solve crimes. I blog about it, and he forgets his pants. I wouldn't hold out too much hope."

“Do you always carry handcuffs?”

"When I say run … run!"

"He’s planned something, something long-term. Something that would take effect if he never made it off that rooftop alive. Posthumous revenge. No, better than that – posthumous game."

"Intuitions are not to be ignored. They represent data processed too fast for the conscious mind to comprehend."

"You can't arrest a jellyfish."

"Brainy is the new sexy."

"Taking your own life. Interesting expression - taking it from who? Once it's over, it's not you who'll miss it. Your own death is something that happens to everybody else. Your life is not your own. Keep your hands off it."

"Oh, I'm sure something will turn up. A nice murder. That'll cheer you up."

"So what if there are right? They are always right, it's boring."

"We all have a past. Ghosts. They are the shadows that define our every sunny day."

"Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing."

"Once the idea exists, it cannot be killed."

"It's not a pleasant thought. I have this terrible feeling from time to time that we might all just be human."

"Friends protect people."

I'm not implying anything. I'm sure she came round for a nice little chat, and just happened to stay over. And I assume she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees."

"The universe is rarely so lazy."

"Everybody dies. It’s the one thing human beings can be relied upon to do."

"I gave you my number. I thought you might call"

"Really hope you don't have a baby in here."

"How did he recognize her from.. not her face?"

"I'm suddenly realizing I probably owe you some sort of an apology."

"I always hear "punch me in the face" when you're speaking, but it's usually subtext."

"People don’t really go to heaven when they die. They’re taken to a special room and burned."

"We've got a serial killer on our hands. Love those, there's always something to look forward to."

"Dear God.  What is it like in your funny little brains?  It must be so boring."

"Fear is wisdom in the face of danger. It is nothing to be ashamed of."

"To a great mind, nothing is little."

"I was thinking more about our imminent and daring escape."

"Fine. We'll start with the riding crop."

"Pass me your revolver. I have a sudden need to use it."

"No, no, NO! Of course he's not the boy's father! Look at the turn-ups on his jeans!"

"Dear Lord, I have never been so impatient to be attacked by a murderous ghost...!"

"What I'm trying to say is that, if there's anything I can do, anything you need, anything at all, you can have me.…"

"Look at those cheekbones. I could cut myself slapping that face. Would you like me to try?"

"I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy, twice"

"Are you wearing any pants?"

"When he was dying, he was always cheerful. He was lovely. Except when he thought that no one could see. I saw him once. He looked sad."

"Does yours rub off too?"

"I'm in shock. Look, I've got a blanket!"

"Get out.  I need to go to my mind palace."

"The world is woven from billions of lives, every strand crossing every other. What we call premonition is just movement of the web. If you could attenuate to every strand of quivering data, the future would be entirely calculable. As inevitable as mathematics."

"You should put that on a t-shirt."

"I'm soooo changeable. It is a weakness with me, but to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness."

"Every fairy tale needs a good old-fashioned villain. You need me or you're nothing — because we're just alike, you and I. Except you're boring. You're on the side of the angels."

"Just once, can you two behave like grown-ups?"

"Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side."

"None of the cabs would take me."

"Also, your loss would break my heart."

"I can open any door, anywhere with a few tiny lines of computer code. No such thing as a private bank account now. All are mine. No such thing as secrecy. I OWN secrecy. Nuclear codes? I could blow up NATO in alphabetical order. In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king. And honey, you should see me in a crown."

"And you read my writing upside down. You see what I mean?"

"London. It’s like a great cesspool into which all kinds of criminals, agents and drifters are irresistibly drained. Sometimes it’s not a question of who, it’s a question of who knows."

"You've gone all croaky, you getting a cold?"

"All lives end. All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage"

"I hope you'll be very happy. You deserve it. After all, not all people you fall for can turn out to be sociopaths."

"Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?"

"...Murder. Sorry, did I say murder? I meant to say marriage. But, you know, they're quite similar procedures when you think about it. The participants tend to know each other and it's over when one of them's dead."

"That's clever.  Is it clever?  Why is it clever?"

"Interesting thing a tuxedo. Lends distinction to friends and anonymity to waiters."

"If I wasn't everything you think I am, everything that I think I am... would you still want to help me?"

[xiaodejunletsact]

say it | dong sicheng

word count: 4,021

genre: royalty!au, princess!reader, servant/ best friend!sicheng, fluff and lil bit of angst and smut.

warnings: attempted sexual assault (nothing to graphic but still), violence, implied sex (well, kinda just sex)

author’s note: hey!! so i literally pulled this out of my ass as a little present for all of my followers as a thank you for getting me to 1K followers!!! i can’t thank you guys enough for supporting my work and i can’t believe im already at 1k what the fuckk. anyway,, i wrote this little au for y’all just a warning; its not very good since i wrote it so last minute but i still hope you guys enjoy it. actor!xiaojun is going to be done soon so please look forward to it!! once again thank you :)

synopsis: after years of not knowing what the feelings stirring in your heart for the young servant boy you know as your best friend were, an incident with a disgusting duke and the moonlight on sicheng’s face help you find your answer.

The only thing more suffocating than the corset wrapped tightly around your waist was the predatory stare the Duke of the neighboring kingdom was giving you from across the dining table.

Out of all the potential suitors your mother has picked in her 4 months of searching, this one was surely one of the worst; he was evidently almost twice your age; the top his shiny head was beginning to appear beneath the three pathetic strands brushed over to conceal the clear sign of his age. His hands were free of calluses and his neat nails were clear indication of the amount of work this man does in his everyday life. Once you finally look at his face, you realize that you have found the worst part of him: his eyes. The light blue of them that is usually seen as beautiful leans more towards grey causing an almost lifeless and frightening affect upon them, they’re hooded as they stare back at you; the shivers that go up your spine force you to look away, redirecting your gaze to your hands.

You smile when you see the neatly bent wire wrapped around your index finger, the helix shape it made as it circled your finger takes you back to the moment you received the makeshift ring.

You hadn’t known Sicheng very well at the time but you knew that he came from a poor family, your mother had taken in with the exchange of them doing the labor and work around the palace. He was only 16 when you met him for the first time, black hair falling slightly over his eyes as he frantically apologizes for god knows what only to stopped by your gentle hand on his, telling him it’s okay. He visibly calms at this before standing up straighter, trying hard to rebalance all the tray of pots and dishes he carries in his shaky hands. You can tell he’s struggling, but he covers up his failed attempts to calm down with a sweet (and slightly embarrassed) smile. That’s when you decide that you liked Sicheng. Maybe not in a romantic way, but in a way that you knew you wanted to spend more time with the young servant boy.

Which you did by following around the boy as he did his chores and asking him any questions that popped into your head, which he tried to answer the best he could while he body was racked with nerves. However, after a while, the conversation started to flow easier, Sicheng started to ask you questions back and openly display an emotion other than stoic. He would laugh out loud and even nudge your shoulder from time to time in playful gesture. Sicheng realizes he likes you too.

That’s why one day, as you two side by side down the palace halls on the way to the kitchen, Sicheng pulls a silver object of the pocket of his worn out pants and brings it up to your face. “My mother told me that my father gave her a ring as a promise to forever be loyal to her and… I just wanted you to know that I will forever be loyal to you, princess y/n.”

It’s difficult to explain the emotions that were going through you at the moment but they lead up to you happily throwing your arms around the boy, squeezing him tight enough that he can feel the genuine appreciation for the thoughtful gift. You don’t see is Sicheng’s face becoming beet red as you wrap your arms around him but you feel his arms wrap around you slowly, hesitantly, and his head lean on top of yours. When you slip the ring onto your index finger with a fond smile on your face, Sicheng has to look down at his feet to ensure that he hasn’t elevated off the ground and is floating above your head because of how happy he is.

“Is there something you find humorous, my lady?” You immediately snap out of your daydream as the taunting voice of the Duke brings you back to reality. You almost roll your eyes but smile politely, shaking your head.

“No, not particularly.”

“You were smiling just seconds ago.”

“Was I? I must have done it unconsciously.” You almost sighed in relief as he seems to buy it, nodding his head and standing up.

“Shall we take a walk around the palace?” He walks around the table and towards the exit of the dining room, not awaiting your response. You reluctantly stand get on your feet, sending reassuring smiles to the maids you sent apologetic ones you way before leaving the room.

-

“It’s a bit dusty on this shelf don’t you think?” The man’s white finger comes down on the counter in a swiping motion, picking up the grand total of about 4 dust particles. He shows you he clean finger as he makes a disgusted face. You think you might die.

That is, until you see a familiar face turning the corner. You feel relief rush through your body as you see the black hair you know so well. The voice of the Duke drowns out once again as you watch Sicheng dust a painting at the end of the hall. He has changed since the time you first met, he’s taller and slimmer. The baby face you once knew is long gone, replaced with sharp angles. The broadness of his shoulder has surely reached maximum capacity by this point, and you it quickly turns into one of those moments where you begin to wonder when did Sicheng get so… hot? These days you often catch yourself staring at him but so did every other normal person in the castle. While you were busy thinking about the hotness of your best friend your potential suitor has taken the liberty of calling him over to dust the shelves on the palace walls.

Sicheng’s presence is like a lavender candle, the closer he gets the more relaxed and at ease you feel. You nearly jump of joy when he’s right beside you. “Yes, your majesty?”

“Clean these shelves, boy. The person who did who did clearly didn’t know what they were doing because these shelves are filthy.”

You nearly snort at his statement, seeing as that you and Sicheng had dusted the shelves together that same morning.

“Of course.” Sicheng replies, carefully maneuvering the duster around the designs of the fancy shelf, cleaning off whatever it is the Duke has seen. Meanwhile the Duke goes off about the time he spent studying in Spain, and this conversation, much like the others gets drowned out. This time, by the outline of Sicheng’s back muscles through his white shirt as he dusts those shelves like a pro.

“Princess, your mind is awfully distant today.” The old man shoots you an accusing and annoyed look that shoots between you and Sicheng. You realize that he had caught you staring at the servant and was now giving you a judgemental look. “Is there something you need from this servant boy?”

Sicheng finally turns towards, keeping a straight face while making eye contact with you for the first time since you entered the hall. (Sicheng was told to not interact with you with suitors came to visit since it could put them off.) The Duke must see the corners of your lips tug slightly into a soft smile at the interaction because he suddenly steps between you two, clearing his throat simultaneously reminding you of his question. “Not right now.” But there is. You need him to get you out of here, you need him to whisk you away to the garden so you can water plants together and be at peace. Though you would never say any of these things to the old man because he would realize that you needed Sicheng in a way very different to the one he had thought of.

He watches you with suspicious eyes as you try your best to not show any of the emotions running through you right now, which proves to be harder than you expected. What with the scrutinizing gaze of the Duke and Sicheng’s gentle smile peering over his shoulder.

“Shall we continue the tour?” You suggested, desperate to move to a different topic of conversation. Thankfully, the man agrees and walks ahead of you, only after sending a dirty look Sicheng’s way.

-

“This is my bedroom.” You trace your hand across the intricate design of the familiar door, slowly moving past it to next room only to be stopped by the Duke’s hand on your arm, pulling you back. The second you meet his eyes you wish you could run away. The pale blue, dead looking eyes you hate so much stare back at you, this time, they hold a predatory feel. His intentions clear.

“I would love to see it.” You gulp, thinking of ways to politely decline his offer. However, you have no time to do so since the man is suddenly opening your door and dragging you into the room.

He examines the room with a somewhat judgmental look. Frowning slightly as he sees the odd knick knacks and artifacts you had collected with Sicheng over the years lining your window sills and filling up the majority of your desk. “This is very…interesting.”

You notice the wince in his voice as he says the words still, you force a smile. “Thank you, I got them from a good friend of mine.”

“Sit on the bed with me, princess.”

You feel your body go rigid when he says those words. Sweat begins to pool around the neck of your dress and you become hyper aware of all your surroundings. You’re nearly shaking as the man pulls you to the bed. No matter how hard you try, you can’t find it in you fight back. You don’t know why. Maybe fear. But you seem to become his puppet for a moment as he sits you down next to him on you nearly made bed.

“You know princess,” The man whispers into your ear causing shivers of disgust to go down your spine, you feel like you might cry as he moves even closer to you. His breath fanning your neck in a way that makes you sick. “I can’t be your suitor until I see what you have to offer.”

You feel yourself begin to feel sick and even then, you do nothing to stop it. It’s like you’ve lost full control of your body. Tears start running down your cheeks as the man leans forward and presses a sloppy kiss on your neck. You curl away in disgust, causing the man to look at you with an offended look.

And that’s when you see the familiar shoes from under your door frame.

“Sicheng!” You shoot up, pushing the man’s hands off of you. “Please, help!” The Duke’s hands are immediately on you again although now, they are over your mouth, being used to silence you. You try desperately to push away but his grip on you is tight. That is, until his hands are being pried off of you and his body is thrown on the floor in front of you. Suddenly you feel a pair of rough yet soft hands of either side of your face.

“Y/N?”

It’s only when you open your eyes that you realize that they were closed to begin with. The sight of Sicheng’s eyes calms you almost immediately (you were almost positive he was your remedy). His worried eyes bore into yours as he wipes away your tears with his thumbs. “Y/n, what happened? What did he do to you?”

You can only hiccup as you recall the event, the helplessness you felt and the pure disgust the memory brings you. Sicheng watches in concern as you sob in his hands, anger rushes through his blood as he turns to the man lying on the floor. Crouching down to his level, he grabs a fistful of the man’s expensive dress shirt. “What did you do to her?”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Sicheng this angry. His forearm is bulging from the tight grip he has on the man’s shirt, the veins on his flushed neck protruding as he clenches his jaw at the man under him. “What did you do to the princess?” He repeats through clenched teeth.

The Duke stays quiet beneath him before daring to utter the words with a laugh: “Just sampling the goods.”

Before you know it, Sicheng’s fist was connecting with the side of the man's jaw. Only to be followed by another and another. Until two of the guards who had heard the commotion came running in, they both woke together to detach Sicheng from the bloodied man. Who stands up and sends Sicheng a threading glare before turning your way. He laughs incredulously in your direction and leaves the room with the little dignity he had left.

-

Once the Queen catches word of the incident, the Duke is banned from ever setting foot in the kingdom again, and she promises you to not bring in any more potential suitors for the time being. Saying she wanted to give you some time to recover from the traumatic incident.

And although she is grateful for the fact that he had stopped the Duke from taking advantage of you, The Queen was adamant on carrying out punishments. Sicheng was told not to interact with you while the suitors were here much less in such a violent manner. Even though the Queen loved Sicheng almost as much as you she did give him the weak punishment of staying two weeks in the underground servants quarters. Which moved his duties from the main palace floor to the kitchen and stables, which were inarguably the hardest jobs to perform around the palace, although you felt guilty for your friend, you knew you’re mother was only giving him a light punishment compared to what she could’ve done, so you stay quiet. Sicheng assured you that he would be fine down there but even then you found yourself sneaking out of your room at half past 1 with your thick duvet wrapped around your head, dragging behind you on your way down to the underground servants quarters.

When you reach the room Sicheng was staying in, you turn the doorknob gently as to not make too much noise. Then you’re met with makes your heart ache slightly. Sicheng is lying on a small bed with his bare back facing you, nothing but a thin sheet covering his legs. He shivers slightly as a cool breeze comes through the window and brushes against his body.

“Sicheng.”

The poor frightened boy shoots up from his bed at the sight of your unexpected presence. His hand falls over his heart as his eyes widen, his breathing calming down as he realizes it’s just you. “You scared me.”

You giggle, “I can see that.”

Seeing you like this makes Sicheng heart flutter, duvet wrapped around your head and sweet giggles leaving your lips. He nearly becomes mush as he remembers that this is a sight only he gets to see, and a memory that will be just his forever. He smiles, “What are you doing here?”

“I just can’t stand the thought of you being alone down here. It’s really chilly tonight too.” Your words scause Sicheng to smile once again, he scoots over until he’s against the wall to make room for you. You lay your body next to him and throw your duvet over the two of you. Sicheng sighs as he’s engulfed by the warmth of the duvet and your body, he then nuzzles his head into the covers cutely.

The bed is smaller than you thought it would be; you and Sicheng were practically pressed against each other. (Not than either of you were complaining.) The feeling of his bare skin under the covers causes your heart to race.

Once you’ve both settled in, facing each other as your eyes take in his face and his yours, a comfortable silence settles. The moonlight coming in through the window looks extra beautiful when it’s draped across your face, Sicheng thinks. His hand reaches up to stroke your cheek softly in an affection gesture that is not rare between you two.

“Thank you for stopping that guy yesterday,” you break the silence with the words you’ve hadn’t gotten the chance to say, “You’re my hero, Sicheng.” Though your words are childish, you couldn’t have meant them more. Without Sicheng, you would be nowhere. Those words were the only ones even remotely close to doing justice to the gratitude and love you feel for the boy laying across from you. Who smiles slightly at your words.

“You don’t have to thank me, princess. You know I would do anything for you.” It’s your turn to smile as he gazes down at you affectionately. You bring your hand up to his face and show him your ring.

“My most loyal companion.” He chuckles lightly before taking your hand in his and laying them, intertwined, between your bodies. “I want to give you something too, so you can remember that I will also always be loyal to you, Sicheng.”

Sicheng smiles but shakes his head politely, “You coming all the way down here in the middle of the night just because you thought I would be lonely was enough to remind me of your loyalty.”

You chuckle before looking up at Sicheng’s face once again. Then, it’s like the scene begins play in slow motion, the soft smile he’s wearing tugs your heartstrings a specific way, the moonlight in his eyes twinkle a bit brighter and it dawns on you…

Sicheng was your best friend. Sicheng was the one you could confide in the most. Sicheng has always taken care of you and helped you through your hardest times. Sicheng was someone you could always count on. Sicheng is the love of your life.

You’re in love with Sicheng.

The feeling had always been there, but you never knew what exactly it was that you were feeling.

The realization crashes into you like a wrecking ball, and the boy in question seems to notice. “What’s wrong?” Concern has seeped into the features of his face and you desperately wanted it to go away and be replaced with the gentle smile he was wearing moments ago. “You face turned serious all of the sudden.”

Another silence washes over the two of you as watch him be for another few minutes, processing the new found information. You know there’s no time like the present, there is no man like the one across from you and there’s no chance you’re going to let this perfect moment pass.

“Sicheng?”

“Hmm?”

“How would you feel if I told you I was in love with you?”

The boy immediately sits up on the small bed, eyes wide giving you dejavú to the moment you walked into the room earlier that night. “What?”

You swallow the lump in your throat as you realize that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. All that courage you felt just minutes ago nowhere to be see. “I’m… I’m in love with you.”

You avoid his gaze that is currently burning holes into the side of your head. You attempt to hide your blushing face under the covers only to have them pulled down by Sicheng, who pulls you into a kiss that was gentle enough to send you mind reeling but hard enough that you feel all the oxygen in your lungs leaving. Leaving you breathless.

You can’t believe this is happening.

Neither can Sicheng.

As you pull away and look Sicheng’s glassy eyes and swollen lips, everything feels so dreamy, you have a hard time believing this is real.

Sicheng decides to speak first, “Are you really in love with me?”

Your eyes quickly become teary like his, you nod. “I am, Sicheng.”

A laugh escapes his lips as a tear falls out of his eye, though he wipes it away quickly. “You’re in love with me. I can’t believe… you love me back.” The sincerity that stares back you as reaches up to wipe away the tear that had fallen from the corner of your eye.

The room is filled with the sound of soft sniffles and the love that radiates off of your bodies. Which settles for a few minutes until Sicheng decides to break the silence.

“It won’t be easy for us, you know.” His words carry a worrisome tone that reminds you of the fact that you are the princess, and (even though you didn’t see him as one) Sicheng was in fact a servant in the castle. You were supposed to marry a rich prince that would benefit the political affairs of your kingdom, Sicheng can’t do that.

But Sicheng can make you laugh like no other, he can ease your stress and cure your sadness like it’s his specialty. Sicheng can protect you and keep you safe from the world.

Sicheng takes care of the older maids when they fall sick, he helps people around the town with their chores when he has finished his own, he always thinks about the people around him before he thinks about himself. He doesn’t have anything to offer other then a heart of gold and good intentions.

What better person is there to be king?

“I know,” you bring your hand up to stroke his messy black hair, running your fingers through it before letting it fall back to its original place on his forehead. “We will have fights and people won’t agree with our relationship, we will have to be strong Sicheng. It will be worth it in the end.”

A closed lipped smile makes its way onto Sicheng’s face and he pulls you closer to him, his hand grips the back of your nightshirt tightly as presses your foreheads together. His breath fans on your mouth as he whispers the words he can now say whenever he pleases, “I love you.”

You chuckle and say them back. You say it again and again and again until his lips are back on yours. You keep saying as his kisses reach your neck and jaw, this time with a breathy tone to them; elated and breathless at the feeling of his warm mouth on your neck.

You say it when he finally finds his rightful place between your legs, hands on your hips as he slowly enters you, the sheets thrown off your bodies because of the increasing heat radiating off the two of you. “My Queen.” He sighs as he looks down at you, his eyes are hooded and lust filled, messy hair sticking to his forehead. Sweat drips down his chest and toned abdomen causing your mouth water.

You say it with your hands in his hair as his sweaty body crashes onto yours, your breaths meet and mix between you before he leans forward and presses one last long kiss on your swollen lips.

His sleepy smile is the last thing you before you fall fast asleep that night, Sicheng’s arm around your waist pulling you against him so he could feel you while he slept.

-

The Queen chuckles slightly as she walks into her daughter’s bedroom only to find it empty and the duvet missing. She figured you would end up in the underground servants quarters with Sicheng. You always did have a pull towards that boy, as did he for you.

Sighing, she leaves the room towards her office in the castle where her maid sits at the desk writing. “Darling, will you please send a message to the Southern prince who was supposed to come here in 3 weeks? Tell him to not go through the hassle of traveling all the way up here.” The Queen sees the confused look on the woman’s face and clarifies her words, “I think Princess Y/N has already found what she has been searching for.”

[keepyourpantsongohan]

Ayesha Liveblogs Naruto Shippuden S20 (Pt. 3)

I wonder if going after Karin’s Tsukuyomi bulb was happenstance or whether Tobirama went “I smell an Uzumaki” and had at it

“Just be quiet for a bit” How dare you speak to your father this way Sasuke, Kakashi does nothing but love you

“EVERYONE WILL OWN A DOG. GO GET A DOG, HOKAGE’S DECREE!“ you’ve got my vote, Kiba

Mirai as a baby is an absolute unit and I love it

Shikamaru, getting down on one knee in front of Temari: Will you not marry me?

You know what. All these dreams are extremely realistic. I buy it. A teenage boy would totally dream about kicking his friends’ asses for fun even if he had the opportunity to do anything in the world. 10/10 believability 

Sai dreams about being told he has a nice smile and being twirled around by Naruto my boooooy 😭😭😭😭😭😭

“[My Sasori transformer] will be the guardian deity of the Sand” Kankuro pls

Omg Temari’s dream is so cute she wants her little brothers to need her

God the fact Gaara’s dream is about having a happy childhood PICK UP THE PHONE RASA I JUST NEED TO TALK

“Madara, don’t you dare talk about the Uchiha. The only one who has that right, is my big brother.” But he did... murder them, Sasuke. That is a thing that happened. My dear. My dude. He done did it.  

Having read Itachi Shinden none of this should be shocking but FUGAKU REALLY YOUR SON IS FOUR WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS

“Listen Itachi, never forget this sight” well he sure won’t now that you’ve given him CHILD PTSD FUGAKU

“We finally have peace, and we must do our best to maintain it” Hmmm.... must you, Fugaku? Is that a thing you must do?

“What is life, anyway?” Damn my existential dread didn’t kick in at least until I was in school, Itachi

Sasuke was such a weird-looking newborn I love him

I wonder how the English dub will deal with the mild implications of inc/est between Itachi and Izumi

Please Mikoto your son is like 6 why are you having him babysit

God I am so used to every version of Itachi having the voice of a grownass man that hearing a child-like voice even when he is 6 is almost off-putting lmao

Full offence Obito but why do you have to be such a little bitch

“Oh good, I knew that you’d be alright” HE’S 6 FUGAKU

Why is Naruto just sitting in a basket on top of his father’s grave??? Who let you do this? Hiruzen what is wrong with you??

“I’m glad that you didn’t die” an accurate representation of Itachi’s social skills at all ages

DFhsdjfhkdsjhfk I love that Itachi has accidentally become these kids’ leader 

AHHHHH I guess that’s Hana next to Itachi I wanna see the cat ninja and dog ninja fight 

“If the fighting can be stopped, I’d like to stop it” Shisui <3 

Itachi’s sweet tooth is so goddamn cute ahhhh what a little nerd

Hhgfkhjfhl SASUKE’S PAW ENCYCLOPEDIA THE PREQUEL THIS IS WHAT I NEVER KNEW I NEEDED

“I mean, [ladies] are clueless” “How dare you insult my woman” Turns out the alcohol this cat was drinking was Respect Women Juice

God I love Minazuki-sensei he’s such a mess

“No they blew away in the wind” guess Itachi hasn’t picked up his snitching tendencies yet lmao

Baby Sasuke has acquired a younger voice too I guess. It is real late in the game to be establishing these lmao

Obito. I’m. Stop???? Please. Is this how Kakashi felt during the war

God I love Shisui the tiny ninja detective they really have left off some of the cooler aspects of being a shinobi in all the wild and flashy jutsu like during the Land of Waves arc when Kakashi kept noticing relatively mundane clues

“Shisui picked up on how I felt right from the beginning” welcome to empathy Itachi

“I’ll hand this intel over to Lord Hokage, and he will deliver a just and fair judgment” I like this ANBU vs. ROOT dichotomy but bold of you to assume Hiruzen won’t ultimately let Danzo do whatever he wants lol

Damn what the shit how does Shisui know who the foundation already isn’t he like 12 

The animation of this arc is nice but also so weird they really did make Itachi and Shisui’s eyes like half of their face

These wholeass adults getting between by two prepubescents lmao 

“A teleportation jutsu has no mass” wait WHAT I have so many questions Shisui what does that MEAN 

“I want to you to think of me as your older brother” HELL YEAH HE DOES

Ffgdfkghkjh what an abrupt voice change between age 8 and 11 Itachi

How many times have they animated these same goddamn Itachi scenes 

Holy shit it’s like they tried to tell the story of the Itachi Shinden novels and then got bored halfway through gfkhgfkhgkjh

“I’m exhaAAAUsted from my mission” Itachi pls why say it like that

“You have the Mangekyo as well?” Fugaku had a friend???? Unrealistic. Blocked

THEY KIDNAPPED NARUTO??? I DON’T REMEMBER THIS IN ITACHI SHINDEN

Genjutsu but I don’t remember that either ?!?!?! Doesn’t Fugaku spend all of Itachi Shinden being emotionally distant and sending Itachi mixed moral messages

Who is the Fugaku hater on this storyboard staff lmao I’m crying

I have a lot of thoughts about this art direction honestly why is everything in the shadows why are the character models so weird why is Itachi suddenly outside in the lightning for his murder discussion meeting instead of inside the council room if you had to shout over lightning people could hear you 

“I challenge you to the high jump” “You’re no match for me” Sasuke you’re the most obnoxious seven-year-old in the world I love it

“There’s something that I’d like you to help me with” a very casual opener when you’re proposing the murder of your entire clan but okay

They really leaned into the horror movie aesthetic huh fair enough 

I have some objections to register about Izumi’s death like both options are weird but at least in Itachi Shinden she wasn’t humiliated by Obito begging for Itachi to save her she had a degree of awareness and it was an impactful if strange scene

FUCK THE TOBI VOICE I KNEW IT WAS COMING BUT I’M WHEEZING

Cute new ED but also the idea of Tobirama giving anyone a fistbump amuses me immensely 

“Who would’ve thought that that scuzzy bearded jerk would’ve been able to use a taijutsu like that” RUDE but also ‘scuzzy’ jhfjghkjhfgj

Omg that’s so funny they literally gave the former owner of Zabuza’s blade the same voice

This doesn’t make any fucking sense how could Juzo have the executioner’s blade when Zabuza would be like 21 when Itachi was 13 oh my god 

“The Hidden Mist doesn’t keep any prisoners” unsurprising but interesting

Is this meant to imply that Juzo is killed and then Zabuza immediately finds the sword and starts a coup because that’s hilarious

Wait how does them fighting the Mizukage make any sense isn’t Yagura under Obito’s control lmao who wrote this

Did Itachi just.... accidentally cripple the Mizukage omg [Zabuza screams in the distance]

Hahahaha I know it’s supposed to be evil but it’s really funny that Kakuzu killed his partner for being too slow

“I wouldn’t know how to cater to your moods” kjfhgkdhfgjh Kakuzu just got wrecked by a thirteen-year-old LMAO 

“I’m not sure what to do with you... whether to kill you right now or find a way to use you” KILL OROCHIMARU, ITACHI, IT’S GONNA SAVE YOU A LOT OF TROUBLE 

Why the hell would Kabuto be hanging out near the Akatsuki anyway isn’t he in a long term infiltration of the Leaf Village lmao or can Orochimaru summon him like a snake

On what basis does Pain decide these partnerships did Kisame and Sasori take a babysitting course or smth

The cutaway without the “This... is art” scene is almost funnier because it implies Itachi just had to flash his eyes at Deidara and Deidara was like, “HELLO AKATSUKI I AM HERE”

“I wouldn’t mind giving you a taste of my art” [insert ninja sex joke about Deidara’s mouth hands here]

Deidara really should not be old enough to be here by this point in the narrative but this entire arc has been wacky timeline wise

Man it must be fucked up to fight a puppet version of your own corpse

“What I really wanted... was to get a hold of Itachi’s body” you are the definition of stranger danger Orochimaru

From what I remember the video games had Kakuzu and Orochimaru approaching Hidan and not Konan and Itachi but I’m game for any Orochimaru erasure lmao

 I’m pretty sure all of that blood was Hidan’s?? World-building whomst

“He licked Kakuzu’s blood” did he though?? Show me his wound Itachi

OMG they’re really heavy-handed with Leaf!Itachi as if we did not just watch a bunch of episodes of Itachi caring about his village like honestly look at this:

Kisame: So even you have feelings for your birthplace, is that it?

Itachi: No. Not at all. [Sasuke, I hope that you’re safe.] 

(Me too Itachi 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭)

“It’s been a long time... Saaasuke” could you say his name a little less weirdly please Itachi

You really can’t get mad at Kakashi for teaching Sasuke chidori Itachi like maybe if you would murder less people Kakashi would feel a little less overprotective

God was the only point of animating and voicing these scenes again so that Itachi could mentally apologize every twelve seconds? You know what fair enough, anxiety and depression be like that sometimes

“You still have people who’ll protect you” Oh plot twist Itachi was actually writing a “Nice” list instead of a “Naughty” list and Kakashi, Jiraiya and Naruto are all on it

Oh yeah I kind of forgot that this was all supposed to be like a 5 minute span for Sasuke’s flashback of Itachi’s entire life lmao

You know.... it’s real unclear to me how Obito wakes up from his trance lmao he may not be in a cocoon but he’s certainly exposed to the light

“Be careful. We’re surrounded on all sides by four of his shadows” “Yeah I know that” Yeah, Naruto knows it, but Sasuke’s warning where the Shadow Madaras are entirely for Kakashi and Sakura’s benefit BC HE WORRIES MY BABY BOYYYY

“This chakra is even way stronger than Ten-Tails” I really heard “Tenten” there and I was like, wait what did I miss with Tenten kfhkjhgkjhg

OH GOOD ANOTHER UCHIHA FLESH MOUNTAIN JUST WHAT WE NEEDED

“They’re turned into White Zetsu” I hate this nonsensical bit of world-building it made more sense and felt less weird when they were Hashirama clones like what the fuck

Oh I can’t believe this is making me feel almost bad for Madara did Zetsu really edit the Uchiha Stone Tablet’s Tsukuyomi section to say “Peace Plans” ain’t that how like the CIA entraps people 

“Hashirama... where did I go wrong” We’d need a lot more time than you have to unpack that Madara

“Countless nights passed” I mean. Was it countless nights. Because I think it was. A couple hours. This war arc spans like two days. I have spent more human hours on this arc than they’ve spent ninja hours in this war

“I can’t believe such a person existed” neither can I Sasuke it’s almost like she was invented specifically for this arc

For real Obito no offence but like why aren’t you dead it just doesn’t make much sense khkjfdhkjhgkjh

Hmmm not 2 be that gal but Kaguya’s voice is v pleasant on the ears 

“Sorry to be so rough with you, Obito” Kakashi. You loving, kind, dumb bitch. He stabbed you THREE TIMES in the past two days you really owe him like -1000 apologies

“This is also one of those times where your body just moves on its own” SASUKE CALLED OUT FOR LOVING HIS COMRADES

“I’ve got to get to Naruto” I love your dedication Minato but I feel as though the loss of both of your arms makes helping more difficult

Kakashi is not NEARLY as surprised about this levitation thing as he should be. I think as this point he’s just like. ‘This might as well happen’

All other things aside Kaguya’s really fun to look at damn

Okay okay okay not to look for too much logic in this ninja show but don’t both Naruto and Sasuke have Six Paths chakra why can only Naruto float is a metaphor for Sasuke’s fall from grace

“I am Kaguya’s child” I can only imagine a Game of Thrones-eque shadow flying out the hooha situation

“Just before the seal took hold, she gave birth to me, in order that she could be restored” I can only assume Kaguya fucked Bitterness and Regret and you know.... fair enough

I gotta tell you Zetsu being the primary narrator of this arc is jarring

Tenji seems kinda nice it’s a shame something terrible will probably happen to him

Say what you will about SP’s animation inconsistencies they can animate some beautiful-ass skies

“Is there anything that you desire” Get u a man like Tenji

Fellas is it gay to sit under the stars with your handmaiden who adores you in comfortable silence

“Even now you’re not scared. That just makes me like you more” take a shot every time a man is Like That (bah dum tss) 

“Do Not Touch Me,” wow Kaguya mood

I will clarify I said that BEFORE she exploded the men gkhkjfhgkhh

Tenji, that Aino lady is your subordinate are you really gonna leave her with the creepy That man u are not the man I thought you were

“Just tell him, and I’m sure that Lord Tenji will forgive you” to be fair Aino you could’ve elaborated u were just like ‘yup she killed them’ and left it at that

WOW I RESCIND ALL COMPLIMENTS TO TENJI CALM DOWN DUDE

When life gives u lemons use people as fertilizer for ur infinite lemon tree I guess

Are you telling me 1) Gamamaru has existed since the DAWN OF CHAKRA and 2) He knew all about this Tsukuyomi shit just like. Kept it on the DL. WHAT KINDA WORLD-BUILDING

Okay but for real did the Otsutsuki clan stem like.... all the clans, because there’s the Kaguya clan (through Hamura I guess?), and the Hyuga clan definitely through Hamura, and then the Senju, Uchiha, and Uzumaki through Hagoromo like just how many people did your kids sleep with and for that matter how long ago was this

“A real talking toad! Think people would like it if we caught it and took it home?” Why are Hagoromo and Hamura the cutest things in the world this is the sibling content we deserve

“You’re just a snake oil salesman, and not a very good one” oh I think I love Hamura oh no I would love a character who gets stuck on the moon 

Take a shot every time a woman exists to die and make a man sad 

“She fell in love with the ruler of this land and in time she became pregnant with the two of you” notice that at no point does Gamamaru say they got married can u believe Kaguya invented premarital sex

You know none of this goes against mine and Sloane’s Kagumo theory

“How can you see so far into a toad’s heart that clearly” Gamamaru and Hagoromo’s interactions are killing me

How much time has passed for Hamura’s hair to grow that long

Hamura @ Kaguya: BROTHERS BEFORE MOTHERS

HOW MUCH TIME HAS PASSED FOR HAGOROMO TO DEVELOP THIS BROW RIDGE SAGE LAND TAKES A TOLL 

Tenji doesn’t even appear in this flashback about love and betrayal it’s just Kaguya being bitter bc her gal Aino died they were in lesbians together

Every so often I’m reminded that Kishimoto has a twin brother and I wonder what he thinks about making the twins fight

“You enabled me to awaken the mangekyo sharingan and rinnegan” how do u even have words for those things. Didn’t they just happen right this moment

Wow this is all very Little Shop of Horrors, Momma feeds the tree with people juice and in turn it wants to protect her from harm

“I split the Ten Tails into nine souls” SOULS? HAGOROMO CAN... JUST MAKE SOULS. COULD HE POINT AT GAMAMARU AND SAY “YOU ARE TWO FROGS NOW” AND THAT’D JUST BE TRUE?

“We won’t be that far apart,” said Hagoromo, just as his brother was about to teleport to the moon

Side note: Maybe ur crops were failing bc without the moon the tides are all out of whack and you know, the moon was apparently just invented right now

“Time passed, and so did Hagoromo” I love this particular literary device

“Time after time I’d approach the reincarnates of Indra and Ashura” okay so we’re supposed to be down for not only regular reincarnation in Naruto but Indra and Ashura ONLY BEING BORN TO THE SENJU AND UCHIHA CLANS REPEATEDLY WHAT WHO WROTE THIS

Does this mean that people Naruto and Sasuke every 50 years????You’d think the Land of Fire would just. Get used to it

“Just with that alone, a thousands years passed” well at least we have some idea of how much time it’s been since Kaguya era lmao 

Ur telling me that this horseshit happened bc Tobirama doesn’t know to leave dead bodies well enough alone

SHHHHH I PREFER THE ZETSU BEING WEIRD HASHIRAMA CLONES

This montage of Zetsu taking credit for everything Madara and Obito did is not appreciated lmao take some responsibility for your actions!!!!

I’m gonna keep harping on this for the rest of the war honestly like where is the ACCOUNTABILITY

“So your teen rebellion continues” LMAO UR NOT WRONG

“I know that this could be our last hurrah, but we gotta give it our best shot” not much of a plan Naruto sweetheart but fair

Tag urself I’m Kakashi’s look of despair at his hormonal students

“And Sasuke? Sorry that my sexy jutsu didn’t work” I was not prepared for the sincerity with which that line was delivered

The Sad Old Man™ energy radiating off Obito is... Immense 

“We’re all ready to die” R U THINKING OF RIN BC SHE WAS READY TO DIE OR BC UR READY TO SEE HER EITHER WAY IT’S SAD KAKASHI

“I want to thank you for helping me out. And for helping Sasuke” “No, there’s no need to thank me” this is the first time Obito has been right about something since the age of 13

“I’m not going to waste time on speeches,” said Obito, in the middle of a dramatic speech 

Minato..... how did you chop the branch.... with no hands to pick up a kunai???????? What kind of yoga contortion was involved

What I imagine the subtext of this scene to be:

Hagoromo: New old son!!!! I am dad now

Hashirama, whose dad was Butsuma: [choking back tears] Okay

Tobirama: I also hate our father

They’re all taking to this “demi-god pops out of the bottom half of dead ex-comrade” thing pretty well but to be fair they’ve had a complicated day

[dailyaudiobible]

05/14/2019 DAB Transcript

1 Samuel 15:1-16:23, John 8:1-20, Psalms 110:1-7, Proverbs 15:8-10

Today is the 14th day of May. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I’m Brian. It is a pleasure as it is every day to be here with you coming out of whatever it is that's going on in our lives and joining our hearts together around the global campfire and taking the next step forward in the Scriptures, and that will take us back into the book of first Samuel where we’re learning about Israel's first king and his name is Saul. So, we’re reading from the Voice Translation this week. Today first Samuel chapters 15 and 16.

Commentary:

Okay. So, in the Gospel of John today Jesus is in the temple in Jerusalem teaching in the complex when the religious leaders…I mean…put a pretty confrontational and humiliating test before him. So, they had caught a woman in the act of adultery. So, in other words, they found a woman in bed entangled with someone other than her husband and they dragged her off and then they thrust her before Jesus, possibly naked, to entrap Him. So, it’s this whole bizarre, strange scene happening in the temple as the religious leaders are kind of like circling the wagons, throwing out the nets. Like, they’re after Jesus at this point, seriously. So, they interrupt Jesus and whatever he was teaching, and interrupt all the people that he was teaching and throw this woman in front of him and they’re like, “teacher, you know, this woman was in bed with somebody, not her husband and our law, the Mosaic law, says we should stone her. And what do you think?” And, so, Jesus stoops down and He's writing in the dust and everybody's waiting. And it’s really interesting because Jesus isn't afraid of like allowing the tension to just sit there, right? So, normally in a confrontational situation what do we do? We usually like strike back in our own defense, right? Maybe even striking back harder. Like, bristling up and showing like, “you want to fight me? This is gonna be a fight.” Jesus just stoops down and starts writing in the dirt. He's not uncomfortable. Like, He doesn't feel the need to spout off a bunch of words that are gonna defend Him. He just stoops down and starts writing in the dirt and everybody that He was teaching, all of these elite religious scribes, like all these people who are important, they just have to stand there and wait for...they asked Him a question. And so Jesus is stooping down, just humbling them, making them wait. So, you can just see them back-and-forth, one foot after the other, one foot on the other, they’re just like standing there and like, “what are we supposed to do?” And, so, Jesus stands up and He’s like, “alright, if that’s what the law says, alright, but let the one who never sinned throw the first stone”, right? “Like, the one that actually is worthy of throwing the first…like the one without sin who doesn't deserve to be stoned as well for something or another, then go ahead.” So He stooped down and started writing in the dust again. And as the Scriptures tell the story, slowly the accusers dispersed and eventually Jesus stood to face the woman and he joined her in her humiliation. “Where are your accusers? Didn’t even one of them condemn you?” And she's like, “No Lord no. No one condemned me.” Jesus said, “I don't condemn you either. Go and sin no more.” This is a beautiful, beautiful story and it's given hope for sinners for thousands of years, hope for me many times. Where all the woman in this story, right, at one point or another, which is what all the scribes and the Pharisees realized was going on, right? They’re slinking away because they are realizing they’re just as guilty, they deserve to be stoned too, we’re all this woman in this story in one way or another. We all have done things that would deserve judgment. And, ironically, this is a very beloved story in the Bible. We like this story so well because we can embrace it for ourselves claiming the grace given to the woman, but we’re often at the same time, while we’re receiving this grace, we’re also playing the role of the religious accusers towards other people, right? All too often we’re willing to drag our brothers and sisters who have fallen in one way or another toward their judgment, right? Like, somehow in our phase, we have gotten to this place where we believe we are the sin sheriffs of the world. And, so, like we spend so much of our time trying to call people out, right, either for their sin or for their doctrine or for whatever. And, so, whether on social media or some other form we’ll drag these people out and try to bring them toward their judgment as we are excusing our own shortcomings and accepting the message of “neither do I condemn you” from Jesus for ourselves. As we’ll learn later on in the book of James and in the writings of Peter, this should not be happening. Jesus did not do that. He entered this woman's humiliation and set her free. So, who do we think we are? To be Christlike requires that we stop being merciful to ourselves while we are at the same time judging others. Jesus didn't condemn the woman in this story. He acknowledged her. He called her forward into a better life. So, may we remember that the words, “go and sin no more” apply not only to us in our shortcomings, they apply to everyone. And may we remember that the only one who could've cast the first stone in this story was Jesus. He was the only one without sin, and he did not. So, we must be the same if our goal is to become like Jesus anyway.

Prayer:

Jesus, we invite You into this. It’s sad, honestly, to be able to look around and see what we, the body, Your body in this world, what we are capable of doing to each other and the ways that we’re willing to segregate away from each other and the ways that we’re willing to break ourselves down into denominations and just what we’ve done because we’ve forgotten some of the core things. Like, the core thing found in this story is that none of us deserve any of this and yet You have given freedom to all of us individually and freely. And You know, we take that freedom and apply it to ourselves and then use that freedom to enslave so many other people by trying to be their sovereign, by trying call them out, by trying to fight the battles as if You need to be defended. We are arrogant people indeed. We have been forgiven so much. We have been blessed so much that we have enough to take it all for granted and we apologize for that. Would You send Your Holy Spirit upon us throughout the earth today and allow us to look at our brothers and sisters, whether they are as close to us as living in the same house or is distant to us as someone passing on the street. May we look with compassion, understanding that You do not condemn them. You are inviting them into freedom. And so often we, Your people, are standing in the way and this is what we find playing out in Your story when You lived here upon this earth as the scribes and Pharisees, as the religious keepers of the law confronted You, we find ourselves becoming the same way when we look at it honestly. And it’s wrong and it’s not going anywhere and it’s not helpful. So, come, Holy Spirit, cleanse us, forgive us, give us the eyes of the kingdom and the ears of the kingdom. Come Holy Spirit we pray. In Jesus’ name we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com, is the website, its home base, its where you find out what’s going on around here, so tay connected in any way that you want to, any way that you can.

The Prayer Wall is dailyaudiobible.com. That’s a great place to stay connected and pray for your brothers and sisters throughout the earth.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com, there’s a link on the homepage. If you're using the app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or, if you prefer the mail, the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Springhill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or comment, 877-942-4253 is the number to dial.

And that is it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I’ll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hello this is Jerry calling from Duluth Minnesota, the former paper carrier calling from a very familiar bus stop I called many times many years ago. Longtime listener. I remember way back when, when Natasha from New York called in often. And, so, many of you have been such a blessing - Blind Tony, Slave of Jesus, the one from beautiful Cincinnati Ohio and on and on and on. But it’s been five years since I gave up the paper route and honestly five years since I really, really spent time with the DAB family, but God is bringing me home. He’s done some amazing things in the last couple of weeks and I don’t know where it’s going but I’m looking forward to what He has in store for me. So, I came back to this familiar bus stop where so many years ago I dedicated…rededicated my heart to God because of the ministry of the Daily Audio Bible and all the friends and community that so many prayers for me so many years ago. I appreciate your prayers and I love you all. May God help me to have a new beginning with the Daily Audio Bible family. God, bless. Bye.

This is Candace from Oregon, please pray with me. Dear Lord Jesus, heavenly Father, Holy Spirit, our God faithful and true, Lord we’re desperate for You. We can do utterly nothing without You. Thank You for coming to get us, coming to rescue us out of our incredible hopeless completely lostness, out of our trouble. Thank You that You’ve come Lord Jesus. Lord there’s a total serenity in You because it is finished, You have taken care of it and we can have life that’s truly life. Lord, Tamika, our dear sister is in way over her head. Lord, she…she can do utterly nothing without You and we know that You are here and that Your plan for her is for her to thrive and together as a family of believers we come together and we agree that Tamika will thrive in the Lord Jesus Christ alone, that she will completely be able to stop and take a deep breath and see all that is still good, all that she still has in this moment, all that You are blessing her with right now. Calm her Lord. Give her a serenity she couldn’t have imagined. And we ask it in Jesus name and for Jesus sake. Amen.

Good morning Daily Audio Bible listeners. I want to wish everyone a happy Mother’s Day. I was just listening to the young lady who has…found out that she’s…she is a mother and I want to lift her up Lord that you will give her strength and courage, your strength, and you will show her every step that she needs to take Lord. I’m so grateful that she is choosing life in a world were so many don’t, and I want to lift her up in the father Lord to know that they are in a holy union creating life, you are creating life through them. I’m so grateful she called to ask for prayer. Please everyone, pray for her that she is strong on this journey and that God’s will be done in this journey. And thank you for all the moms that are here, that are not here, and that will soon be here, that you’re raising up, this community of moms that will love as you love. In Jesus’ name. Amen. Thanks everyone. Have a beautiful day.

Hello, my beautiful DAV family this is Mark Street from Sydney Australia today is Monday, 13th of May and look, I’m calling in for prayer request for my son, my little son William he’s 16. Unfortunately, he’s going through a pretty bad time at the moment, he’s suffering from depression at the moment and unfortunately, he’s refusing to go to school and in this country it’s law that you must attend school till you’re 17. So, he’s taken the last two weeks off and we’re getting to a point where there’s going to be legal action and unfortunately, he’s moved back in to live with his mom. So, that said, he won’t take any phone calls from me, he won’t listen to me. I’m finding it very hard that I can’t actually help him. I’m trying to talk to him, but he doesn’t…won’t accept my talk or anything. So, I’m asking you to pray to God that the will of Gog change his mind, or he can open up William’s heart to listen to me, for me to try and get him some psychological help. But at the moment he’s refusing anything, so. I don’t want to live in fear. I know God will have him, but family I know how wonderful your prayers are and how wonderfully God moves in this community, so I would appreciate it. His name is William, William Street. And if you would pray that he would open up to his mom or open up to me and we can get things resolved. Love you family. Mark Street from Sydney Australia. Bye.

[cloudbatcave]

Paved With Good Intentions

“Um.” She said, pulling away, wiping her lips with her hand as if afraid of disease. “My mom’ll wonder where I am, Hes.”

“Right.” She said, wringing her tail in her hands. She can see Winona try not to look at it, eyes spinning between the arch, and the wall, and the distant buildings that call to her in a way Heskel clearly doesn’t.

The tiefling doesn’t wipe her lips. She wants that buzz to linger as long as it can, even as Winona - human, blushing, what is it like to have peach skin that pink looks normal on? - gets to her feet and runs off, pattering down the stones until she can’t be heard anymore.

At least there’s no mud on her pants this time, nothing for the monks to chide her about. A few hours unaccounted for is nothing; Heskel knows that no one much minds if she’s gone for less than a day, as long as she doesn’t make more washing.

She drops the magic that made her slit blue eyes round-pupilled, with a white iris. It couldn’t get rid of her horns, or tail, or even her fangs that Winona had brushed her lips against, but it had felt better than doing nothing.

Just in time. Father Scully spots her as she wanders back into eyeshot of the monastery’s gardens, and he frowns as he puts down his trowel.

“Good afternoon, Father.” She says, bowing slightly. He frowns deeper, and adjusts his robes before wincing and making his way over to her. The recent rains must be bad for his arthritis, and mud does fleck his boots. Funny enough, he never gets told off for it.

“Don’t bother with that rubbish, girl.” He says, flapping a hand. “Virtue and manners are pointless for you.”

She murmurs an apology, and he makes a disgusted noise, squinting through glasses that could use a cleaning. She’d offer, but he’d fuss and snort, and it’s so much easier to just do it when his back is turned or he’s asleep.

“How is that re-binding coming along?” He shoots at her, knowing full well she spent last night trying to catch mice to study again, and only devoted perhaps half an hour to it, in spurts. She takes his hand when he holds it out anyway and makes a note to make him some tea as he tries to hide further winces as the pair of them walk back inside. He hates using his cane, even when he should, no matter how many times she props it up against his reading chair so that he nearly trips over it.

She closes the door with a flick of your tail, and while her face betrays nothing, it’s hard to not be pleased at the muttered ill-wishes under his breath.

How can he curse her any more than she has been already? No use trying.

“Some of the linen is moldy.” She says absentmindedly. It’s less an excuse and more of a gentle barb. She’s still thinking of pattering feet, and the look in her friend’s eyes - defiant, hesitant, and guilty all at once. 

“You’re lucky we have any to spare to begin with. Damned mice keep getting at it.” He says, stopping to give her one of his signature ‘put the fear of Selune into a person’ looks. It only sparks a minor flare of guilt, nothing compared to the aches of wrongdoing it used to evoke in her.

She blinks at him slowly, a gesture practiced from the monastery cats, who don’t care what she is so long as she has food for them, so they’re good for learning such things.

“Maybe we should get more kittens.” She replies. Stripes died not long ago, and now there’s only Beetle, Tabitha, and of course Imgig Zu, who’s practically hers. No one was amused when she named him that.

But then, laughter comes as easily to most of the monks as easily as romance does to Heskel.

“You’d better be willing to clean up after them. No more trying to train them to use the privy.”

It could have worked, she almost said. It would have, if Brother Farris hadn’t screamed and kicked Beetle that one time.

Maybe she should get Winona a kitten. No, her family already has a great big dog who growls when he sees Heskel, egged on by her friend’s brother; it’d make everything worse.

If there even is an everything anymore.

“Heskel.”

They’re right outside of Father Scully’s rooms. Despite his status, he chose to have austere quarters; he claims it is how to best be a true Sun Soul, but from the tiny flickers of a smile that she sees when he thinks she isn’t looking and the other brothers and sisters complain that he’s a wet blanket stifling them all, she can tell why he really does it.

His face is more lined than it was five years ago; he must be nearly sixty, and he grows gaunt with the weariness of age.

Or the stress of trying to guard her soul, as he sometimes grunts at her when she comments on it.

Sometimes she asks him if it’s true tieflings don’t have souls, and he looks away. It’s a handy way to end an argument. It’s not like she can tell, anyway; no one’s ever been straight with her on what a soul looks like or how to check for one. Everyone becomes suddenly inconvenienced when she has questions.

“You’re distant, even more so than you usually are, daydreaming of follies.” He says, and a quick flare of panic rises in her. He grunts, apparently oblivious. “We need your hands, girl, one of the only young pairs we’ve got.”

The monastery has been shrinking ever since she was young, old members dying and few coming to join under Selune’s eye. No one’s ever said it’s because of her - she’s never caught anyone whispering about it - and the town itself is certainly less of a trade hub than it used to be. 

“So go speak with Sister Ameline, if she’ll listen to your wittering.” He shifts, looking uneasy. “Unless it’s a moral matter, and then all you can do is pray to our lady, for none of us can guide you.”

He looks solemn on the surface, but she can read his face and hands, the tiny shifts of his brow, as well as any fresh-written book.

She’s met Winona’s father, a loud and gregarious man, always ready with a bad joke or a pipe in his hand. Father Scully is nothing like that, nor Winona’s grandfather, who seems lost in his own world.

“I always pray, Father.”

“Good.” He says, opening the door. She lets go of his arm as he walks to his chair, and gives his cane a distrustful look before settling in it, taking a rag to finally clean his glasses and taking off his boots.

She lingers for a moment. He raises his graying eyebrows at her.

“Well?”

“Nothing, Father. I’ll bring your tea in an hour.”

“Then off you go.”

She shuts the door with your hands this time, giving him his privacy.

Maybe she should include what happened today in her prayers to Selune. Her domain includes beauty, and while Winona isn’t particularly beautiful (neither is she, if she’s being honest, though really it’s better that way) she’s...attractive, in her way, and clearly must think that Heskel is decent enough to kiss, at least once.

The kiss was beautiful, for all its briefness and the sound of her feet, the look on her face.

She goes back to her own room, and stares out the window at the moon, wondering if even a god can help her with this.

[herald-divine-hell]

Three Simple Words

Prompt/Request: Dunno if you’re still willing to take prompts, but could you do one where the Inquisitor and Leliana are together, but they’re scared saying ‘I love you’ will push the spymaster away (because we all know how aloof she can be). So when those three little words slip out? PANIC. Quick reassurances that “it was nothing” or that “you don’t have to say anything.” Poor Inquisitor just desperately wants her to stay, not because they’re holding her back, but because she wants to.

Author’s Note: I hope that you enjoy! I really loved writing this one, and I hoped that you enjoy it! 

I made this slightly in an omnipotent viewpoint since I wanted to convey both the Inquisitor and Leliana felt, it is mainly in the Inquisitor’s point of view. This is a really lengthy one, so bear with me!

I love you.

How three, simple words conveyed so much in such few shorts of breaths was incessable and fascinating to the Inquisitor. She had heard the words before, from her mother and father, but never from a lover. It was far too sacred to be used on such a whim, even if the heart would have said otherwise.

The Inquisitor never heard it from Leliana. There was no need since they were capable of showing their affection in other ways. Three simple words should not have held such power, but the thought of Leliana saying it, whispering it, had made her insides become mushy, and her heart to flutter in ways that fighting and magic never was capable of. 

Leliana ran her fingers through the Inquisitor’s hair, humming gently an Orlesian tone that the Inquisitor was familiar with. They were reclining on the Inquisitor’s couch, far from the duty-filled chamber of the War Room. “You are exhausted,” Leliana said, more as a statement than a question; but it was true. Administrating an entire organization bent on saving the world from an ancient magister who had an over the top, god complex typically led to people feeling more than fatigue once the day is over. 

The Inquisitor smiled grimly. “Am I that easy to read?” 

Leliana hummed. “For me, yes. To others, it is slightly more difficult no doubt. Your mask is slowly getting harder to decipher, I will grant you that.”

“You always did know how to read me.” 

Leliana grinned a grin that made the Inquisitor’s heart race and her pulse quicken. “I know more than simply reading you.” A finger traced up the Inquisitor’s arm, and she swallowed, cheeks warming considerably. 

“You’re terrible, Leli.”

“You would not have tried to seduce me if I was not.”

 The Inquisitor laughed: a true, genuine one. It was far too long since she was capable of performing such a feat. The destruction at Haven and the fall at Adamant weighed heavily in her mind. “That’s accurate.” She grinned. “I always love a good challenge.”

There it was. A simple sentence had revealed more of the Inquisitor’s cards. If Leliana had noticed her small metaphor, she did not comment on it.  Knowing her, however, the Inquisitor knew that she did. 

“Who does not?” Leliana joked. The day was slowly coming to a close, the skies of Thedas grew into a soft, melted velvet, shimmering with pearly-white flames. 

It was during the night when the Inquisitor had a chance of tranquility. Her room placed her further away from the action of rulership, and she did not know if that was a good or bad thing. It was fine with her, she had Leliana there to keep her company, and the spymaster was more than enough, definitely. 

“Will you be heading to Emprise du Lion tomorrow?” Leliana questioned, relishing the softness of the Inquisitor’s hair, enjoying how the golden-red light of the fireplace lit her face into an ethereal glow. These moments grew so few and far between these days, the growing prominence of the Inquisition after their narrow escape had gained the attention of the nobles of Thedas, requiring the Inquisitor’s full energy to be able to keep up. Leliana had reminded her that Josephine was fully capable of her duties, but the Inquisitor had simply scoffed and said that she would be remiss if she allowed her Cheif Diplomat to suffer at the dry stories of the Orlesian and Fereldens. Leliana believed that the Inquisitor secretly enjoy the power that she wielded over the nobles; their fear, awe, and not-so-subtle desire were intoxicating, Leliana knew that.

The Inquisitor sighed. “Yes. I would have preferred if I was allowed a few moments of rest, but alas, the world is never patient with their heroes.” She glanced up at Leliana, smiling softly. “I wish not to leave you, my nightingale. I just have only returned from the Emerald Groves, but I-”

Leliana placed a slender digit over the Inquisitor’s mouth. “Do not apologize, Inquisitor. You have your duties; and though I dislike it, I must share you with the world.”

“I don’t get a say?”

Leliana smiled, teasingly, and the spymaster looked so much more beautiful when she smiled. “Of course not.”

A giggle passed through the Inquisitor’s lips, and she felt the Inquisitor’s lips pulled into a small grin against Leliana’s finger.  They were so soft...

“Just,” Leliana said, a growing fear that always appeared these days whenever the Inquisitor left for her adventures, “please be safe. I understand it is hard for you, but-”

I’m afraid to lose you. Leliana wanted to say. I’m afraid to lose that smile, those shimmering eyes, your light. I’m afraid to be left alone in the world again. 

Instead, she said, “the Inquisition needs you, as do I.

The Inquisitor hummed, raised a slender hand to Leliana’s own and brought the spymaster’s knuckles to her lips, grazing her soft lips against it. “I promise I will return to you.”

It was the same promise that the Inquisitor swore after Redcliffe, to the broken Leliana, and then to her Leliana in the present time. It was a promise that she swore annually, and she had kept it so far, even after the Fade. 

It had happened before the Inquisitor could have stopped herself, and she wondered if she even wanted that. “I love you.”

The room fell silent, dead almost, besides the flickering and churning of the flames. Leliana’s face was covered in shadow, and the Inquisitor could not read her eyes. She often could not, anyways, but the silence unnerved her, reminded her of the corpse that was Leliana during Redcliffe. No, she thought. That one was dead, empty, and walking corpse; filled with such bitterness and hatred. My Leliana is life itself, burning with hidden passion. Alluring and eternal. She is fire, while that one was ice. Cold, distant. Almost like Leliana when I first meet her. She pushed that thought away and raised herself from the lap of her spymaster. Leliana had come so far since their first encounter. There was slight bitterness, the lingering of self-hatred and contempt, perhaps that will never go away, but she was far more lively, around the Inquisitor that is. She trusted the Inquisitor, they even shared the same bed, felt each other’s curves mold into one, their heartbeats synchronizing into a gentle melody. The Inquisitor did not want to lose that: the spymaster’s trust. It was too precious, and that is why she kept herself from uttering those words, to swearing her undying affection. To confess and reveal all that she was to Leliana. To form a nonspoken oath. Maker, why did she say it?

Did I go too far? She tugged her bottom lip. Her stomach turned and twisted this way and that. Did...did I ruin it? 

“Leliana,” she whispered, her fingers twitching to hold her. “Leliana, please, say something.” Anything. The fear gripped and drove a sharpen knife through the heart, ever so slowly. She felt her cheeks tremble, a hollow feeling of dread engulfed her very being. Don’t leave me. She felt hot tears prick her eyes, and she sniffed, holding them back. I am the Inquisitor. I have to be strong. She swallowed, glanced away from the woman that sat beside her, and towards the velvet purple sky. She felt like jumping off the balcony when she said, “It-” she swallowed, but it felt as if her heart had clogged her throat. “It was nothing.” It was everything. “You don’t have to say anything.” Please, just say something. “I can escort you back to your chambers if you like.” Please stay with me.

“You shouldn’t have said that.” Huh?

The Inquisitor whipped her head, staring bug-eyed at her spymaster, the light of her life. “Pardon?”

Leliana did not look at her, instead of resting her eyes on her hands. Her short, flaming red hair was lit by the flames, and the Inquisitor believed that she looked far more beautiful than any other thing in the world. “You...you should not have said that. It was...inappropriate.” 

The fear mixed with silent anger. “Inappropriate?” She questioned, and she felt hollow, weak, dead. “How is that inappropriate, Leliana?”

“Unnecessary, than. We are collegue-”

 “You're making up excuses,” the Inquisitor said, the quiet anger mixing with the fear and the dread. 

Leliana looked up at her, and what the Inquisitor saw erased all the anger and dread in her heart and replaced with guilt. Tears plagued Leliana’s eyes, and her lips trembled as if it was even worse for her to bare. “Inquisitor,” her voice was thick with sadness. “We-I can’t be what you want me to be.” Her eyes, Maker, the Inquisitor could not pull away from her eyes. The flames lit it the blue orbs in a strange mixture, but they were filled with conflicted emotions: Sadness, happiness, anger, regret....guilt? “I want you to take back that statement, and used it for someone who is more deserving of it.”

The Inquisitor laughed, bitterly, almost broken even. “I can’t take it back-” she said, grinning, though her heart was seemingly ready to shatter.

“You must,” Leliana insisted. 

 “Because person who I am looking at right now is deserving of that confession; of the oath. Of that promise.” The Inquisitor took Leliana’s hands into hers, and she felt her pulse quicken once more. They were so delicate but rough at the same time. She gently squeezed them. “Leliana, you are deserving of this world, deserving of all its affection, of its mercy, of its kindness. It wasn’t Andraste who stopped Cassandra from tearing my head off during our first meeting. It wasn’t Cassandra who insisted that we help the mages when no one else would. It wasn’t-” She inhaled deeply, the memory of the demons that terror that woman apart in Redcliffe resurfaced with great haste. “It wasn’t the Maker who saved me from Redcliffe, who gave me the urge to keeping fighting on It was you. The woman who I go for guidance, who - despite her best efforts - is soft, kind, and gentle beneath all that armor. If you want us to forget about this, forget about this relationship, if you desire a more professional correspondence between us I will happily grant you it, but I will never retract those words, nor will I ever apologize for saying them.” She inhaled again, regaining her breath after that speech. 

Leliana stared at her, eyes distant as if processing what the Inquisitor had stated. After a few moments of silence, the spymaster of the Inquisitor spoke, soft and gentle, “I don’t know what to even say, Inquisitor.”

The Inquisitor glanced away, not bearing the intensity of her spymaster’s stare. “You don’t have to say anything, Leliana,” she said. “Y-you can go.” Please stay. You're my strength. 

“Good,” was her reply, before she felt hands grip her face and lips coating against her own. The Inquisitor gasped, warmth spreading across her body like the anchor whenever if flared, but this was nice, tranquil even. Everything that was the Inquisitor and that was Leliana was pulled into that kiss: love, worry, happiness, fear. Fear of death, of losing the strength that they both gave themselves. Of losing that pleasant humming in their minds, the warmth in their hearts, the flipping of their stomachs. If they could, neither would have let go, staying together in each other’s arms, far from the cries of war, it was blissful, but they were mortal, and life was never truly fair.

The Inquisitor was the one who pulled away first, though it took great effort to even do that. During that kiss, Leliana had somehow gotten onto of the Inquisitor’s lap, and the leader of the Inquisition realized with a small blush coating her cheeks, both in embarrassment and in some other sort of feeling that one would dare say, love, that Leliana was a tad bit smaller than her. “Le-”

Leliana’s eyes were fierce, the worry and sadness of before had been disrupted like lightning. “Promise me,” she said, low and soft, her lips were so close to the Inquisitor’s, “promise me like all your other promises that you will never have to say those words again. Promise me that you will never have to utter those words again if you keep coming back to me. If you promise that, those words would not compare to the sight of you coming back home, smiling, alive. That will be our ‘I love you’. Promise me that.”

The Inquisitor smiled slyly. It did not need to be a promise, because she would also return to Leliana, alive preferably, because she had a feeling that if she did die, her beloved spymaster would have crossed into the fight just to kill her again.

“A promise worth keep, my nightingale,” she said, “but promise me that you will stay. Tonight, and all other nights till our time in this world forces us to depart.”

Leliana brought her head closer, her lips a mere breath away. “I promise.”

I love you.            

[dumbledearme]

chapter four—into the woods

read Child of Land and Sea here

Act I — Storm At Sea

Part IV — Everything's newer, and brighter and bluer, and truer to life than before. Watch me soar.

Andy had never been so blue.

Just when she had started to feel accepted, she was moved (or removed) to cabin three where she was sentenced to be alone. The other campers steered clear of her as much as possible.

The only one who seemed to like Andy more, and dedicated her more of his time, was Luke. He pushed her harder and harder during each of their lessons. And, boy, he wasn't afraid to bruise her up in the process…

"You're going to need all the training you can get," he promised.

Anthony still taught her Greek in the mornings, but he grew more distant everyday. Every time Andy spoke, he would scowl at her like a mad grandpa. Even Clarisse kept her distance, though it was clear she still wanted revenge.

At night, Andy was summoned at the Big House and Chiron, surprisingly, offered her a quest. "Poseidon and Zeus are having their worst quarrel in centuries. They are fighting over something valuable that was stolen. To be precise: a lightning bolt.

Andy laughed, nervously. "A what now?"

"Do not take this lightly," Chiron warned. "I'm talking about a two-foot-long cylinder of high-grade celestial bronze, capped on both ends with god-level explosives. Zeus' master bolt. The symbol of his power, from which all other lightning bolts are patterned. The first weapon made by the Cyclopes for the war against the Titans, the bolt that sheared the top off Mount Etna and hurled Kronos from his throne; the master bolt, which packs enough power to make mortal hydrogen bombs—"

"Okay, I get it," Andy interrupted with a nod. "It's powerful. It's important. It's missing."

"Stolen," Chiron said.

"By whom?"

"By you." Andy's mouth fell open. "At least, that's what Zeus thinks. During the winter solstice, at the last council of the gods, Zeus and Poseidon had an argument. Afterward, Zeus realized his master bolt was missing, taken from the throne room under his very nose. He immediately blamed Poseidon. Now, a god cannot usurp another god's symbol of power directly—that is forbidden by the most ancient of divine laws. But Zeus believes your father convinced a human hero to take it."

"But I didn't—"

"Zeus has good reason to be suspicious. The forges of the Cyclopes are under the ocean, which gives Poseidon some influence over the maker's of his brother's lightning. Zeus believes Poseidon has taken the master bolt, and is now secretly having the Cyclopes build an arsenal of illegal copies. The only thing Zeus wasn't sure of was which hero Poseidon used to steal the bolt. Until he claimed you."

"Okay. First of all, he can't claim me, I'm not a goat!" Andy exclaimed. "And also, I've never been to Mount Olympus... As a matter of fact, I don't even know where that is... Look, I didn't do anything. You know that, right?"

Chiron sighed. "Most thinking observers would agree that thievery is not Poseidon's style. But the Sea God is too proud to try convincing Zeus of that. Zeus has demanded that Poseidon returns the bold by the summer solstice. That's June twenty-first, ten days from now. Poseidon wants an apology for being called a thief by the same date. Neither god will back down. Unless someone intervenes, unless the master bolt is found and returned to Zeus before the solstice, there will be war."

"So I have to find the stupid bolt? And return it to Zeus?"

"What better peace offering," Chiron said, "than to have the daughter of Poseidon return Zeus' property?"

Andy failed to see why she had to do something for Poseidon. It wasn't like he had ever done anything for her... She owed him nothing.

An image came to her. World War II, they had said. Massacre. Slaughter. Millions and millions of people dead because of a similar childish strife. Someone had to do something, right? It wasn't fair that the innocent always had to pay the price.

"Fine," she decided. Weird how it was so easy to agree to this because of people who meant nothing to her and, at the same time, so hard because of the one who meant everything. "But if Poseidon doesn't have it... where is the thing?"

Chiron's expression was grim. "I heard a prophecy years ago... But before I can tell you, you need to take up the quest. Go see the Oracle."

A mummy. That's what it was. A disgusting, ancient mummy that sent chills up Andy's spine. The moment Andy entered the attic, she heard the mystical voice. "I am the spirit of Delphi, speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python. Approach, seeker, and ask."

Andy swallowed hard. "I was just wondering... Where is the bathroom?" The mummy remained resolute. It was now or never. "Fine. Then... what is my destiny?" She heard herself say.

The verdict wasn't the best she'd heard:

"You shall go west, and face the god who has turned. You shall find what was stolen, and see it safely returned. You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend. And you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end."

"Cheery," said Andy and went back downstairs after slamming the attic door shut.

Chiron and Grover asked and asked, but Andy refused to share the entire prophecy with them. She only told them the first two verses. The part about failing... well, how could she tell them there was no point to all of this? That she would fail anyway? No, they couldn't know.

Chiron didn't seem convinced and warned her, "The Oracle's words often have double meanings. Don't dwell on them too much."

But if she wasn't supposed to trust the Oracle, why did they need the thing anyway?

Andy changed the topic. "Where do I go? Who's this god in the west?"

"First you need to think," Chiron said. "If Zeus and Poseidon weaken each other in war, who stands to gain?"

She shrugged. "Somebody else who wants to take over?"

"Quite. Someone who harbors a grudge, who has been unhappy with his lot since the world was divided eons ago, whose kingdom would grow powerful with the deaths of millions. Someone who hates his brothers for forcing him into an oath to have no more children, an oath that both of them have now broken."

"Hades."

Chiron nodded. "The Lord of the Dead. You must go to the Underworld, find the master bolt, and reveal the truth."

She shook her head. "Oh I feel used. Why do I have to do this? Why do the gods need to operate through humans? Why can't they talk it out like adults?"

"It is no accident Poseidon has claimed you now. He needs you."

"Yeah? What about the times I needed him?"

Chiron watched her silently. Andy didn't know whether to feel happy, grateful or resentful. She glanced at Grover who was trembling.

"You don't have to go," she told him. "I can't ask that of you."

"You saved my life, Andy," the satyr said. "If you're serious about wanting me along, I won't let you down."

Andy felt so relieved she almost cried. "Alright, then. Now where the hell is the Underworld? Literally."

"Always in the west," Chiron said. "Los Angeles."

"Ha ha." She waited. "Oh. You mean it."

"Two companions may accompany you. Grover is one. The other has already volunteered, if you will accept his help."

"Who?" Andy asked, hoping for Luke. The air shimmered behind Chiron and Anthony became visible. Andy made a face. "Ah."

"I've been waiting a long time for a quest, Seaweed Brain," he said. "Athena's no fan of Poseidon, but if you're going to save the world, I'm the best person to keep you from messing up."

Andy tried to hide her disappointment. "As long as you have a plan, Wonder Boy. I haven't made plans since I went to this stupid costume party dressed as a stuffed olive. I dyed my head and neck red—that was the stuffed pimento bit. I thought it was absolutely hilarious, until I tried to get out of my bedroom. I had to go down the stairs sideways. Then I couldn't fit in my mom's car so I had to walk. And when I got to the party everyone laughed. I did a bit of stuffed olive dancing until I nearly destroyed every ornament and bit of furniture in the place. In the end, I went home early—"

"We get it," Anthony snapped.

"I doubt it. Unless you've been a stuffed olive too...?" and she glanced at him expectantly.

Anthony didn't trouble himself to answer.

Andy didn't have anything to take with her but the backpack Chiron stored for her. Anthony was bringing his magic Yankee cap—which he told Andy had been a twelfth birthday present from his mom—a book on famous classical architecture and a long bronze knife, hidden in his shirt sleeve, that he seemed to carry everywhere. Some people had teddy bears, some had knives…

To Andy's surprise, he also came up with a cool leather jacket that he gave to her saying the weather could change drastically. She was strangely pleased with it. Grover wore his fake feet and his pants to pass as human, and his backpack was filled with scrap metal and apples. He also carried a set of reed pipes his daddy goat had carved for him.

Before they left, Luke came to say goodbye. Andy's cheeks reddened and she blushed even more when she realized Anthony had noticed the change. "Just wanted to say good luck," Luke told her. "And I thought... um, maybe you could use these." He handed Andy a pair of basketball shoes.

"Not exactly my style, but thank you."

He smiled and said, "Maia!" White bird's wings sprouted out of the heels.

"Awesome," said Grover.

"Those served me well when I was on my quest," Luke said. "Gift from Dad."

Andy didn't know what to say and felt extremely uncomfortable with the look Anthony was giving her. "Thank you."

"Listen, beautiful," Luke's tone softened. "A lot of hopes are riding on you. So just... kill some monsters for me, okay?" And he hugged her. Actually hugged her! Like, passed his arms around her and applied pressure.

Luke also hugged Anthony. "I will see you again, brother," he said before leaving.

Andy watched him go. Anthony leaned over her. "You're hyperventilating," he said, but he wasn't making fun of her, he was almost pissed off about it. "And you can't use those," he added taking the shoes away from her. "He meant well, but you shouldn't go in the air." And he handed the sneakers to Grover who put it on almost immediately.

Then Chiron showed up to say goodbye and to Andy's surprised he presented her with his ballpoint pen. "The sword has a long and tragic history," he told her. "It's name is Anaklusmos. Riptide. Celestial bronze, see? It can't harm mortals, only monsters." Chiron also told her that every time she lost the pen/sword it would magically reappear back in her pocket!

Argus drove them to the city. He was the head of security. He supposedly had eyes all over his body so he could never be surprised. Luckily, due to his clothes, Andy couldn't know how much of that was actually true.

"So far so good," she said. "Ten miles and not a single monster."

Anthony gave her an irritated look. "It's bad luck to talk that way, Seaweed Brain."

"Remind me again—why do you hate me so much?"

"I don't hate you."

"Mm. Could've fooled me."

He sighed. "You're annoying. If that's not reason enough for you, then let's just say that we're supposed to be rivals. Athena and Poseidon can't stand each other."

"Whatever, dude," Andy said. She was tired of his judgmental comments and the angry stares.

Argus dropped them at the Greyhound Station and Andy felt homesick, she was so close to her house. She wanted so bad to go there, go through the door and find Sally waiting for her…

"You know," Grover said, "she married him for you."

"What?"

"Your mom. You called him Smelly, but you have no idea... The guy has this aura... He smells so repulsively human he could mask the presence of any demigod. He covered your scent for years. That's why you managed to live for so long outside the camp." He said that as if it was suppose to make Andy feel better. It didn't. If anything, she felt worse thinking of the dozens of things her mom had done for her.

"How did you know I was thinking about her anyway?"

"Oh... Satyrs can read emotions. Guess I forgot to tell you that."

In the city, they got into a bus. They sat in the back for a while when an old lady boarded in. Andy felt the panic stuck in her throat—it was Mrs. Dodds.

Andy scrunched down in her seat. Behind her came two other old ladies. They all looked the same: triplet demon grandmothers. They sat on the front right behind the driver. The two on the aisle crossed their legs over the walkway, making an X.

The bus pulled out of the station.

"She didn't stay dead long," Andy whispered to Anthony. "I thought you said they could be dispelled for a lifetime."

"I said if you're lucky," he argued. "You're obviously not."

"All three of them," whimpered Grover. "Di immortales!"

"It's okay," Anthony said. "The Furies. The three worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem. We'll just... slip out the windows."

"They don't open," Grover moaned.

"A back exit?"

"Hey, they can't attack us with witnesses around, can they?" Andy asked.

"Mortals don't have good eyes," Anthony told her. "Their brains can only process what they see through the Mist."

"The Mist?"

"Yes. It obscures the vision of humans," he explained. "We can see things as they are, but humans will interpret it quite differently."

That moment, Mrs. Dodds got up. She announced, "I need to use the restroom," to the entire bus.

"So do I," said the second sister.

"So do I," said the third one. They all started coming down the aisle.

"There's no restroom in this bus!" Andy shouted feigning a male voice.

The Furies ignored that.

In a quick gesture, Anthony placed his cap on Andy's head and her body vanished. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"It's you they want. Go up the aisle. Let them pass you. Maybe you can get away."

"But you guys—"

"There's an outside chance they might not notice us," he said. "You're a daughter of Poseidon. Your smells might be overpowering."

"I can't just leave you."

"Don't worry about us," Grover urged. "Go!"

Andy's hands trembled. She felt like a coward, but she got to her feet and crept up the aisle. She went ten rows then ducked into an empty seat just as the Furies walked past. Mrs. Dodds stopped, sniffing, and looked straight at Andy. Her heart was pounding, but the monster didn't see anything. She and her sisters kept moving.

Andy made it to the front of the bus then heard hideous wailing from the back. The ladies weren't ladies anymore, they had turned into the winged monsters they truly were. They surrounded Anthony and Grover. "Where is it? Where?"

People on the bus screamed and cowered in their seats. They saw something alright…

"She's not here!" Anthony yelled. "She's gone!" The Furies raised their whips. Anthony drew his bronze knife. Grover grabbed a tin can ready to throw it.

And Andy... well, Andy pulled the wheel from the bus driver and everybody was thrown to the right. While the Furies were trying to stand, Andy had another great idea—she hit the emergency brake.

The bus wailed, spun a full circle and crashed into some trees. The door flew open and people rushed out of there, screaming.

Now there were only them. Andy took off the cap. "Oi, ugly," she called.

The Furies turned, baring their yellow fangs at her. "Andromeda Jackson," said Mrs. Dodds. "You have offended the gods."

"Yeah, but I offend everybody."

"You shall die."

"You know, I liked you better when you were dead." Andy took out Riptide. The Furies hesitated.

"Submit it now," Mrs. Dodds said. "And you will not suffer eternal torment."

"Are you kidding? Eternal torment is all I ever wanted."

Mrs. Dodds lashed her whip around Andy's sword hand. But Andy didn't drop the sword. Instead, she attacked and sliced the Fury on the right. She screamed and exploded into dust. Anthony grabbed Mrs. Dodds in a wrestler's hold and yanked her backward while Grover ripped the whip out of her hands. Andy hit the Fury on the left and she broke open like a piñata. Anthony and Grover managed to tie up Mrs. Dodds with her own whip.

"Zeus will destroy you," she promised. "Hades will have your soul!"

Thunder shook the bus and Anthony pulled Andy out of there. The windows of the bus exploded. The passengers ran for cover.

"Run," Anthony said and Andy didn't need any more encouragement.

They plunged into the woods together.

[hysterialevi]

Lotus pt. 1 (Batjokes)

Author’s note: Well, a lot more people were on board with this idea than I was expecting lmao I’m still kind of testing the waters right now, but I hope you guys like the story anyways and please, feel free to send feedback anytime. Enjoy! -Levi

From Waller’s POV

CITY HALL

“Secure the perimeter!” I ordered, sending agents scrambling all over the place. “Lethal force is authorized. Do whatever it takes to find the mayor. We CANNOT let that maniac kill him! Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes ma’am!”

“Agent Fox,” I called out, marching towards her, “any updates on Wayne?”

She tapped her tablet a few times before responding, concern plastered all over her face. “My drones have scanned the building top to bottom, and it looks like Wayne’s trapped the mayor in his own office. He’s injured him pretty badly, but he hasn’t tried to kill him yet. It’s almost like he’s...waiting for something.”

I rubbed my chin in thought, the gears turning my head. “Why wouldn’t Wayne just shoot him? If he really wanted to kill the mayor, he would’ve done it already. No...this must be a trap. He wants our attention. He wanted the Agency to come here. These theatrics are nothing but bait. Well, we’ll worry about that later. Right now, our top priority is saving the Mayor. Understood?”

Tiffany gave me a firm nod. “Understood.”

“Good. Then let’s get to work.”

Tiffany let out a disappointed sigh, her head sinking with sorrow. I paused for a minute.

“Everything all right, agent?” I checked.

She frowned. “It’s just...I grew up with Bruce. He was always like family to me, and to my dad. I know he’s been mixed up with some shady people in the past, but never in a million years did I think he’d become like...this.” 

She gazed up at the night sky in a helpless manner, her shoulders drooping despondently. “God, what did that virus do to him...? What did we do to him? We should’ve just ended his misery when we had the chance. Bruce might not’ve been a saint, but he definitely didn’t deserve this.”

I was silent in response, earning an apology from Tiffany.

“I’m sorry, Director. I know I have to set my personal feelings aside. I can’t let them hinder my judgement when dealing with Bruce, no matter how close we used to be. I just wish it didn’t have to end like this.”

I folded my hands behind my back, softening the tone of my voice. “I understand, Tiffany. I don’t think there’s a single soul in Gotham who hasn’t been touched by Bruce somehow. It’s heartbreaking for all of us to witness what he’s become, friend or foe. Let’s just hope we’re able to put a stop to this madness before it’s too late. Gotham’s already on the brink of war with the Joker running about, and this pandemonium with Wayne certainly isn’t helping. It’s the Agency’s duty to act. Fast.”

“I’m ready when you’re ready.” Tiffany said, regaining composure.

“That’s what I like to hear, agent.”

Before we could continue with our plan any further however, the distant sound of an explosion suddenly erupted from the top of City Hall, causing every electronic within a five-block radius to shut down immediately. Streetlamps, billboards, indoor lights, pylons, all of it -- just dark. We were stuck in pitch blackness.

“What the hell just happened?” I blurted out, my voice echoing eerily. I quickly took out my pistol, checking its condition. The lights were red.

“Dammit,” I cursed, holstering the useless weapon. “That must’ve been an EMP blast. I see Wayne hasn’t given up on his old tactics. We’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.”

“Wait,” Tiffany said, showing me her tablet, “my devices have EMP shielding. They were able to survive the blast. I can still keep an eye on him while the other agents fetch the mayor.”

A sense of relief washed over me. “Good thinking. Things will be a hell of a lot harder without our tech, but at least we can monitor Wayne.”

Just as we were about to calm down a bit, the screen on Tiffany’s tablet began to glitch suddenly, bringing us back into panic mode as a broken, deformed voice came through the speaker. It sounded like Bruce. He must’ve been hacking her tech from City Hall.

“--Just as you always do.” He fired back, his tone low and stoic. “I figured the Agency would be experts at this by now. All you did for an entire week was monitor me. Watching, and waiting. Standing idly by as I rotted away...don’t deny that you relished it.”

I glared at the screen. “What do you want, Wayne?”

 “What do I want?” He repeated. “I’m surprised you ask. You didn’t seem to care back when I was suffering in your secret lab -- when all I wanted was a little mercy...”

A dark chuckle escaped Wayne’s lips. 

“But now that I’ve stoked the city’s fire with its own fuel, and sent your own organization crumbling around you...now you care. Because you’re afraid. Because you know what kind of a monster you’ve created, and you know what I’m capable of. Isn’t that right...Director?”

“Enough, Bruce,” I said firmly. “It’s time we settled this, but I want the mayor first. He’s not a part of this. Leave him out of it.”

Bruce laughed, though not in an amusing manner. “Even now, she still makes demands...when I’ve clearly got the upper hand. You’ll have to learn someday, Waller, that barking orders isn’t enough to push through life. Though, it can certainly push some people.” 

Bruce sighed in frustration. “Fine. You want your beloved mayor so much?” He was quiet for a second, probably setting something up.

“...then you can have him.”

Splitting the darkness, the upper floors of City Hall were illuminated with a single spotlight as one of the windows slid open from the inside, revealing Wayne himself. It was hard to see what he was doing from this distance, but it appeared as if he was hauling something quite heavy around. 

For a moment, I had no idea what that “something” could’ve been, but the minute Wayne hurled it over the window’s edge, and it caught on the rope holding it, I immediately felt my stomach churn. A unanimous gasp could be heard from the other agents, and everyone began murmuring as we tried to process what we were looking at.

Slowly turning to me with a horrified look and all the color drained from her face, Tiffany brought a hand over her mouth, nearly fainting on the spot.

She shook her head in disbelief. 

“Oh...oh, god.”

From Bruce’s POV

ONE WEEK AGO - WAYNE ENTERPRISES

Pain. Heat. Anger.

All of these things rushed through my body as I struggled to open my eyes, my vision doubled and blurry. My hearing was muffled except for a sharp ringing noise, and the room around me seemed to pulse in sync with the throbbing ache piercing my skull. It must’ve been from Harley’s hammer. 

I rubbed the side of my head, wincing at the touch. Goddamn. She really hit me hard. The woman herself however, was nowhere to be seen right now...and neither was her partner, “Joker.” I guessed they fled after knocking me out, leaving nothing but a trail of death behind them. 

Barely lifting my head, I saw the aftermath of John’s attack scattered all over the floor, making me want to gag. Along with the blood splatters and vomit staining the carpet, the room was also littered with fresh corpses -- both from mine and Joker’s side. They were all bleeding from the eyes, nose, and mouth, and a permanent expression of agony was stuck on their faces. It made my insides boil.

I could hardly believe it. Every. Single. One of my colleagues -- even Regina...was dead. Just like that. And for what? To get a point across? 

I felt a certain rage bubbling inside me -- the same one from when I first learned of my father’s criminal history. Not only was I angry, but I also felt betrayed. After all the things I gave him, after everything we went through...and this was how John repaid me? If I didn’t have a code against killing, I would’ve strangled the clown myself.

...But deep down, I knew I could never truly harm John. As much as I despised to admit it...I was in love with that freak-show. Something about John just...drew me to him. Like a moth to a flame. He was everything I ever wanted in person, but he was also everything I stood against. And to see him running around with someone else, to know that he did all of this purely because he hated me...to know this was my fault -- it made me feel helpless. 

How was I supposed to destroy something I helped build? Or hate something I loved? I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this lost, and to be honest, I just wanted to give up. I wanted to walk away from this city and never look back, but I knew I couldn’t. Not with Gotham counting on Batman. It needed him now more than ever, and I owed it to everyone who had died so far to save this city. Especially Lucius.

Pushing myself up from the table, my body turned out to be much weaker than I anticipated, causing me to collapse right onto the floor with a heavy thud. The fall certainly didn’t help with my headache or the ringing in my ears, but as soon as I made impact, I could hear a pair of frantic footsteps heading in my direction. It looked like a couple of agents, and both of them were protected with gas masks.

“Oh my god...!” one of them exclaimed. I recognized her voice. It was Avesta. 

“Blake,” she said, “he’s...he’s alive! Go find Director Waller! We need to get him out of here immediately!”

“Right. I’m on my way.” He bolted out of the board room in a heartbeat, leaving me alone with Iman as she gently secured her arms around me and lifted me into a sitting position. I groaned in pain.

“It’s okay, Bruce,” she reassured, looking into my eyes compassionately. “It’s okay. Waller’s here. We’ll get you somewhere safe. I promise. You’re going to be all right.”

Avesta cursed in a language I didn’t understand, muttering to herself. 

“...I thought you were dead. How are you alive...? Anyone touched by the Lotus virus is instantly killed. Could it be that you’re...? No...it must be the gas mask. But wait...”

She leaned forward, observing the mask John gave me.

“There’s a crack in the glass. It couldn’t have saved you. So what did?”

I took a breath, my lungs burning as I tried to speak. 

“What...” I coughed, “what are you...talking about...? What’s going on...?”

Avesta hesitated for a second and glanced around the room as if she’d find an answer hiding somewhere, unsure of how to break the news.

“Bruce,” she put a hand on my shoulder, barely able to make eye contact with me, “...I-I don’t know how to say this, and I don’t mean to frighten you, but...you’ve...you’ve been infected with the Lotus virus.”

My heart stopped. 

Lotus? As in the one Riddler and Freeze contracted? Shit.

I gulped out of fear, my chest beginning to feel tight as the news finally sunk in.

Oh, shit. No, no, no, NO. That couldn’t be right. Everyone else died the minute the virus was released. Why didn’t the same thing happen to me? I couldn’t be infected. It had to be from when Harley hit me. Surely, that was the reason why I was so weak. I wasn’t infected with...with Lotus...right? They had to be wrong. They had to be. Oh, god. What was I going to do? What was I going to tell Alfred?

“Bruce?” Avesta said, interrupting my thoughts. “...are you okay?”

I snapped back to reality and shook my head, looking at her desperately.

“Iman...please, you have to help me.”

She scooted closer. “Don’t worry, Bruce. That’s what we’re here for.”

“No...” I grit my teeth, the pain increasing with every second, “that’s not what I meant. I mean...you have to...” I trailed off for a moment, wondering if I should even ask this, “...you have to...kill me.”

Avesta almost seemed disgusted at the request. “What?” She backed away slightly. “No! No way, Bruce. I’m not going to do that.”

I persisted. “Look at me. I’m already a corpse, Iman. With the Lotus virus inside me, I’ll either end up dead...or insane. I don’t want to lose my mind. Please, just...just shoot me before that happens. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

The agent sighed morosely, still refusing to do what I asked.

“I’m sorry Bruce. I can’t. I understand you’re afraid, but the Agency needs you alive. The more we learn about this virus, the higher our chances are of curing you -- completely. I’m just curious about how on Earth you survived in the first place.”

“We’ll figure all that out later,” Waller dismissed as she marched into the room. “For now though, we just need to focus on getting Wayne to the lab. He may be alive, but he’s in a critical condition. And it’ll only worsen if he stays here. Not to mention it’s a risk to us as well.”

Avesta nodded, helping me to my feet. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good, then let’s get a move on. We have no time to waste.”

Waller brought her attention to the other agents, ordering them around and giving commands whilst Avesta lugged me away from the grotesque scene, both of us still shocked at what’s unfolded. 

“I want bio-scans on Wayne as soon as possible,” Waller shouted behind us. “Learn everything you can about the virus, and do NOT let him leave his cell once he’s locked in. We don’t know how fast this virus can spread, and I certainly don’t want to find out.”

I turned to Avesta, croaking out a few words with what little energy I had left.

“...you’re...putting me...in a cell...?”

She gave me an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, Bruce. It’s the only way we can contain the virus.”

I still wasn’t entirely sure about the idea.

“But the city needs me,” I protested, coughing faintly, “...it needs...B-batman...”

Avesta gestured to me. “Look at yourself, Bruce. You can barely walk, and Batman’s no use to the city if he can’t fight. You need to rest.”

“...but...but...I...”

Before I could even talk anymore, the edges my vision suddenly began to darken once again and the world felt like it had fallen from underneath my feet, swirling around me in a sickly manner. I started to slip from Iman’s grasp.

“Bruce...?” Avesta’s voice bounced off the walls of my head, muffling more and more.

I crashed onto the floor and went limp, a dozen agents instantly clamoring over to me as my brain shut down and everything went black. What was going on? Was I...was I dying? Was the virus finally taking its toll? Had my wish been granted? 

I closed my eyes and willingly let the virus’s cold clutch steal me away from consciousness, my entire body going numb as I fell into Limbo. Despite all the panic that was happening around me, I somehow remained calm, and even welcomed this sensation that I mistook as death, greeting it with open arms. 

All my fear, hatred, rage, love, everything...it was just...gone. I felt lifeless, and yet, I had never been more alive. It was as if my soul had floated away from my body and was now watching from afar, waiting to see what I’d do next before meeting it on the other side. 

I didn’t know what the Agency had planned for me, or how I was going to be affected by this virus, but there was one thing I knew for sure. No matter what happened in the future, or how much torment I would have to endure, Gotham was never going to be the same again. And neither was I.