#Cass is living shadows confirmed

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Our second DCXDP au has Danny hiding in Gotham with the cores of Dani, Dan and two other clones who survived. They need DNA to be able to reform but it's in a ‘it doesn't have to be now’ kind of way. Not just Danny’s DNA but another to to balance out their genes.

They'll become babies and be raised up. Dani was melting but forced Danny to promise he wouldn't find someone right away he'd take his time to fall in love first. Dan did the same and the twin clones did to.

Danny decides it's a good idea but keeps the cores safe. He ran to Gotham in the DC universe because the GIW were to close to killing him. His parents, Jazz, Sam, Grandma Ida and the Foleys all followed. Grandma Ida is running some gang down in crime alley having a blast with Sam, constantly trying to hook Sam up with Jason who Ida is in a turf war with. Tucker is happily running a tech company that will soon outstrip it's competitors., his parents helping Jazz is terrifying in Arkham as she tears our corruption.

Maddie abd Jack found out about the Leauge of Assassins and went: study time. Danny, knowing its corrupted ecto and also not wanting to deal with assassins lets then have fun. So Ra’s is dealing with liminal mad scientists who keep stealing the Pits and also have uncovered two Damian clones they kidnapped. Their kids now.

But we’re focusing on Danny who is in college and living a peaceful life which is what he wants most of all. The cores of his kids are always on him just in case and he's casually dating. It's great. He can just be Danny the guy who is super into space and plans on being a mechanic for the watch tower.

Then one day Two-Face attacks the cafe he's at (because of a sale it was having where it was two for one on some sort of new treat). Danny has to run for his life. He gets hit and the bag he has the cores in is harmed. One falls out and he freaks, diving for it. He grabs it just as Black Bat swoops in to save him. She flies him up to a roof.

They land and then she moves to grab one of the cores that fell out. Danny gets antsy but it requires skin contact so it should be okay, she's wearing gloves after all. It'll be fine!

On her part, Cass is wondering why her hand feels tingly but there isn't anything malicious in the mans face so she thinks it might just be the orb she caught being weird. She swings off, noting that she has a hole in her glove.

Danny goes home and doesn't think about it until he realizes that the core the hero touched is growing. And it's getting sick without the touch of its other parent.

Cass on the other hand feels strange. Like she's pulled somewhere. She instantly thinks of the guy and alerts the others to him. They hunt him down to find him on a rooftop. He's surprised to see them, holding an Orb that’s glowing.

“I thought it would take longer…” the man says. He shakes his head. “Umm… rip the band-aids off- I'm nottotslly human.”

The Batfam kinda pauses cause he's giving this info up for free. Cass is eyeing him closely. It's just her, Batman and Robin in front of the man. Everyone else is listening in or in the shadows.

“I ran away from my home dimension cause they were hunting me down to kill me because they believed I was non-sentient. You know sad trench- I mean, John Constantine? I think he put in the word we’re friendly,” the man babbles. The orb shines. “Okay, okay. I need to… Black Bat did your glove have a hole in it when you touched this?”

Cass hums but nods. Barbara has Constantine on the line (and no one wants to know the blckmail she has to make him answer) and he's confirming it's a friendly.

“Okay, okay… this is a Core and it's the heart, soul, brain, everything of an ecto-entity like me. And it… it’s my child. But it needed a second set of DNA. It's fine dormant, it doesn't hurt the baby. But it…” the man swallows. “Skin touch.”

Cass knows in a second what he's leading up to. She touched the orb. It needed DNA.

That's her baby in his hands.

Que the chaos.

[writeroutoftime]

true love's kiss

pairing: azriel x reader

summary: when azriel is hit with a powerful poison what - or who - will be able to save him?

warnings: talks of death, angst

words: 2.8k (buckle up)

a/n: my first azriel story and I'm so excited!! this idea just popped in my head the other day, and I ran with it lol. it was so much fun to write, so I hope you have just as much fun reading it!

(p.s. requests are open if you'd like to send anything in!)

oOoOo

Without warning, your heart began to pump furiously and an uneasy feeling settled over your body. Your muscles tensed up, as if preparing for an attack, and only moments later, you noticed Feyre's glazed over eyes widened in fear. Lunch suddenly postponed, she shot to her feet and ran towards the living room while you, Mor, and Amren quickly trailed behind. 

Before you even stepped foot in the room, your suspicions were confirmed as the scent of blood and fear smacked you in the face. There was a brief space of time in which you mourned for the anguish Feyre would feel over an injured Rhys. However, the image of Rhys and Cass heaving an unconscious Azriel onto the couch suddenly seared itself into your mind. 

"What happened?" you whispered the words over the commotion, though it rang out loud and clear to the Inner Circle despite its wobble. 

"We were ambushed in Windhaven." Cass explained while Rhys reached into the void to call for Madja. "Az's side was struck with a sword, but it must have been laced with poison. One second he was standing behind me, and the next thing I knew, he let out a shout before collapsing almost immediately." 

Tears lined your eyes at the thought, and the pain didn't register when you dropped to the ground beside Azirel, hands hovering over his body. The dark swirl of shadows that nearly obscured him from view parted for you, allowing you access to their master. 

"Oh, Azriel." you breathed out, only distinguishable to you and his shadows. The later wisping gently around your face, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. You leaned into the gesture, wishing it was Azriel's palm against your skin. 

Suddenly, you felt strong arms pull your shoulders away from Azriel as Madja stepped in and took your place, her gaze instantly drawn to his wound. Meanwhile, your family stepped back in fear. Rhys held Feyre tight in his grasp, and Cassian offered you and Mor each a comforting hand.

The only sounds for the next few minutes were Madja's grunts and huffs as she did her best to treat the injury. You couldn't help but cringe into Cass' side as her hands turned a dark-red, tinted from the blood that should have long ago clotted. It felt like an eternity before the healer turned around to face all of you, her face worn. 

"I've done what I can to stabilize him, but the sword that struck our Shadowsinger was indeed laced with a poison I have yet to see. Unfortunately, it still seems to be working his way through his system. I can't say for certain how much time he has, but I will work swiftly to find an answer." she explained solemnly, taking in the pained expressions of you and your friends. "All I do know is whatever the cure ends up being, it needs to be a strong source of magic. I'm sorry I can't offer better news."

Rhys was the first to break through the stunned silence. "Thank you, Madja. C-can we move him somewhere more comfortable?" 

The healer nodded before taking her leave. In her stead, all of you gaped in shock before Rhys and Cass worked together to move Azriel to a bed where they thought he would be more comfortable. Once they got him settled, you pulled a chair up, next to his bed, a stack of thick, dusty books beside you. If there was nothing you could do at the moment, by the cauldron you would at least help Madja research a cure. 

When your focus couldn't get past the first few sentences on a page, you shut the book with a sigh and furiously wiped at your eyes. The tears wouldn't stop, no matter what you did. Carefully, you reached out and interlaced your hand with one of Azriel's, placing a soft kiss against the marred skin. 

"Please, please wake up, Azriel." you whispered into the room. "I don't know what we'd do - what I'd do - without you." you told him, praying to the Mother and anyone else listening to heal your best friend. 

As day bled into night, Rhys and Cass came into the room, trying to relieve you even just for an hour. They tempted you with food, rest, or even just a moment alone, but you refused. How could you leave Azriel alone in his moment of need? Eventually they got the hint, and slowly, the rest of your family began to take up residence in the room alongside you.

oOoOo

"How can there be nothing on this subject?" you shouted, tossing the book to the floor with a loud thump. 

The rest of the Night Court looked up at your outburst, their own eyes red and bleary from the hours and hours of research. It had been three days since Madja first examined Azriel, and even the experienced healer was coming up empty. With every hour that passed, you felt the hope in your soul drain even further.  

"There has to be an answer somewhere." Cass placated, stretching out his wings from where he sat. "Someone has to have used this poison before." 

"That doesn't mean they had to write the antidote down, boy." Amren spoke cooly from her spot, ignoring your pointed glare. 

"What is it, Feyre?" Rhys asked, taking note of her trance like state. She shook her head slightly at her mate before turning her attention to the rest of the group. 

"Well...I was just thinking. Madja said whatever the cure ends up being will have to be powerful, but maybe we've been thinking about this too literally. Maybe it's not an answer that can be found in a book. What has been a powerful motivator for all of us over the years? Was even the answer to end Amarantha's reign?" she asked, the group shuddered at the mention of the name of that devil. "Love." 

You stared at your High Lady, head titled to the side. "Okay, but how is that going to help us now? It's not like any of us don't love Azriel." 

"And it's not exactly a position we can give him." Mor chimed in. 

Feyre reached out a tattooed hand and grasped Rhys' hand. "Or maybe it is." she countered. "I don't know about here in the Night Court, but haven't you ever heard fairytales? True love conquering all with a kiss, and all that?"  

"Do you think it would really work?" you ask, your tone warm and face full of light for the first time in days. 

All eyes fell to Rhys and Ameren for guidance. The two shared a look, silently communicating their opinions on the matter, but it was Rhys who spoke first. "I've never heard of an instance of true love's kiss being the answer, but since when have we been known to do anything traditionally?" he said with a small grin, inspiring a soft chuckle in the room. 

"Well," Cass dragged out. "I would try, but I don't think Az would appreciate me waking him up with a kiss." 

You rolled your eyes at the general, before considering the impact of his words. "Doesn't that leave us with a problem? Azriel hasn't found his mate, so we're still stuck and unable to break though." A small pang shot through you at the idea of Azriel's mated to an unknown female, but you quickly tamped that down. This was a matter of life or death. 

All eyes of the Inner Circle turned to face you. Looks of disbelief, amusement, and even understanding from Rhys, came your way. You caved in on yourself, suddenly feeling your cheeks heat under the scrutiny. This was not the time for their games. 

"What?" 

Mor spoke your name, gently, as her hand reached out to grasp yours. "Do we really need to spell it out?" she asked in your silence. 

"Spell what out?"

Amren, having had enough of the tiptoeing, finally spat it out. "That you're in love with the Shadowsinger, and have been for decades. If anyone in this room has the power to break this curse, it's you." 

A laugh bubbled up and out of your throat at her words, born out of sheer nerves that shot through your body. "N-no, no. I am not in love with Azriel. I mean, yes, I care for him - of course I do! I love him the way I love all of you. I'd do anything to help, but I really don't think this is going to work." you stuttered and stumbled over your words, bashful from the accusation. 

"We've all seen the way you look at each other, y/n." Feyre spoke gently, her eyes soft and she stared at you. "I think you love Azriel a bit differently than the rest of us." 

Her words brought tears to your eyes. Yes, you were in love with your best friend - how cliche. It had been that way for decades, but you never had the courage to speak up and say anything to him. And now, all these feelings were being dredged up in such a tense situation. What if it wasn't enough? What if you weren't enough to save him? 

"Okay, fine, you've caught me." you conceded, throwing your hands up in the air as your voice grew thick and heavy once more. "Is that what you want me to say? That I've been in love with Azriel for years, and it's killed me to just stay by his side as just a friend?" a defensive anger rose in your body as you looked at each member of your family. "But you're forgetting an important piece to this puzzle. Just because I'm in love with Azriel, doesn't mean I'm his true love." 

With that, you ran out of the room, collapsing against the wall in the hallway. You tried to take deep, steady breaths to calm your breathing, but it did little to help the situation. A few minutes later, you heard soft footsteps come up to your side, and Mor pulled you into a giant hug. The two of you stayed in silence for a few moments, grateful for the anchor she acted as in the moment. 

"I know that was a lot to throw on you, and for you to have to admit to us." she spoke, softly and cautiously. "And nobody judges you for how you feel or how you're reacting." 

"I'm so scared." you confessed. "W-what if I try and it doesn't work?" 

Mor looks at you with a gentle smile. "What if you try and it does work?" she countered. "I think you underestimate the extent of Azriel's feelings for you. And, if, Mother forbid, it doesn't work, then we'll figure something else out." 

Her words gave you a sense of comfort and the courage to wipe your tears and walk back towards Az's room. Before you stepped back in, you gave Mor's hand a grateful squeeze then rolled your shoulders back. 

All talking ceased as you walked back in, and you knew your family had to have been discussing what to do if you didn't agree with their plan. But this was Azriel's life on the line, and you would do anything to protect it. Even if that meant having your feelings revealed, or rejected. 

"Okay, let's try this." you told the Inner Circle, calmly and with conviction you tried to convince yourself you had. "But, all of you are waiting outside." 

There were no laughs or jokes at your expense, which surprised you, especially coming from Cassian. Instead, they all nodded their heads and solemnly and filed outside to wait. On his way out, Cassian squeezed your shoulder and nodded. 

"Bring him back to us." he whispered, board line pleading with you to save his brother's life. 

When it was just you and Azriel alone in the room, you took a deep breath and crossed the space until you knelt before his bed. You took the moment to study his features. His hazel eyes, normally full of life and mischief, now were shut off from you. His skin looked more swallow and the rise and fall of his chest seemed to slow with each breath that passed. Even the presence of his shadows seemed dimmer as Azriel's life slowly drained before your eyes. 

With a shaky hand, you reached out to brush away soft tendrils of hair that had fallen into Azriel's face. "Can you hear me, Az?"

The air was heavy as you waited a response that never came. 

"We all miss you so much. I miss you - my best friend. I-I know it's not fair of me to ask, but just keep holding on, keep fighting. Please." you whispered, leaning down to rest your forehead against his body, gathering your courage. "Look, Feyre has this crazy theory about what could save you. It's uh, true love's kiss." 

Again, no response. 

"This was not the way I expected to tell you, not that I thought I'd tell you if I'm being honest. But even though I don't want to jeopardize our friendship, I'd rather have you alive and never speak to me again than gone forever. So, here it goes." you took a deep breath. "I love you Azriel, I think I always have. You are so good and kind, and the kind of male I've dreamed about for years. I-it's okay if you don't feel the same," you forced yourself to say. "but I thought you should know given our situation."

Not sure what else to say, you took one more look at the male in front of you, placed a gentle kiss against his cheek, and then dipped your head down to meet his lips. They were chapped against your own after a few days without enough water. Az's normal smell of cedar and mist was faint, but still there, and comforted you as it surrounded your senses. 

You poured as much love and hope into the kiss as possible before slowly pulling away, falling to sit on your legs. The next few seconds that passed seemed to stretch for hours, waiting for a sign, a movement, anything. Just as you were about to sag and give up hope, a loud gasp sounded next to you and Azriel's frame jolted up. 

"Azriel!" you shouted, watching as the color returned to his face and his eyes darted around the room. 

Those hazel eyes finally landed on your frame, and Azriel quirked a small, albeit, sleepy smile at you. "y/n." he whispered, holding out a hand. 

Wasting no time, you grasped onto the anchor for dear life, and the tears immediately began to pour down your face. "I can't believe you're awake. Oh, I was so scared for you Azriel. How are you feeling? Are you in pain? We have to get Madja and the other's here. I'll go-" you rambled, before being cutting off my Azriel. 

"Hey, hey, calm down." he soothed, pulling you up onto the bed, flush against him. "I feel fine, considering I was just on the brink of death." he chuckled. 

"Don't make jokes like that." you swatted at his chest. "We almost lost you." 

"Yeah, but you saved me." he said, looking down at you in awe. 

Suddenly bashful again, you began to stutter. "Oh, no, I didn't do much. It was all Feyre's idea, and we all were here helping to research." 

"But Rhys and Cass weren't the one's to bring me back with a kiss." he said, and you felt as though your entire body was on fire at Azriel's words. 

"Y-you heard all that?" 

"I did." he nodded, nuzzling his nose against your neck. "And, I can't believe it took us until now to say anything, but I love you, y/n." he admitted, turning your face so you stared into his eyes. 

As the words left Azriel's lips, both of your gasped. This time, however, it wasn't because of a sleeping curse, but because of the taught, golden thread you felt connecting your soul to Azriel's. Your mind swirled with a thousand thoughts, but the loudest one was "mate, mate, mate." 

You stared at the male before you in awe, and Azriel grinned. "My mate. My knight in shining armor." he teased, then leaned down to capture your lips once more. 

This time, the kiss sent butterflies to your stomach and you revealed in the feeling of Azriel's strong arms around your body. His kiss was long and unhurried, as though you had all the time in the world to explore. And as you kissed him back, you found yourself giddy at the thought of the rest of your immortal life with Azriel.

It was only when the doors had been thrown open and the rest of your family came stumbling in did you and Azriel pull apart. The two of you looked at each other, then busted out laughing at the shocked faces of your family. 

"It worked!" 

"You're awake." 

"The two of you are mates?!" 

Their voices all overlapped, and you felt Az sigh against you, hugging you close. Yes, your family was a lot, but they meant well. And now, you could live happily ever after. 

oOoOo

a/n: ahh, I'm pretty impressed by how quickly this went from an idea to a story! kinda feel like I rushed the end, but oh well! hope you enjoyed!

[lavenderdreams205]

spn thoughts as requested

tw & spoiler warning

they should have kept the grungy filter and aesthetics from the early seasons

bring back the southern / midwest gothic vibes

dean would've listened to and loved 90's & 2000s grunge - I know that the whole "there's no good music past '79" is a key part of his personality but pre series/early seasons dean is soo nirvana / Weezer / smashing pumpkins coded

there is too much flannel in the later seasons - I miss the carhartt and leather jackets so bad

BRING BACK DEANS JEWELRY

there's so much about cas that we don't know. there's all the episodes where he just isn't there and they never tell the viewers what he's doing or where he went

on the same note, cas's personality isn't nearly as flushed out as sam's or dean's are. who is his favorite musician? what's his favorite place to travel to? why does he like the pimpmobile so much? does he actually like the trench coat or does he wear it just because it's there?

so many people characterize cas as a little guy, and while he is cute, it's important to remember that he's also an incredibly powerful eldritch horror who leads angelic armies and brands Michaels vessel just because

dean is bisexual and in love with cas - I won't take the time to list all of the reasons here, but you can definitely find those reasons somewhere

i would've loved for them to use the handprint as a physical manifestation of their bond instead of having it be just a scar that fades with time

i'm actually really ok with the way cas dies, I think it makes sense for his character and provides closure (for him, at least, not for dean)

the parallels of cas and dean meeting in a barn and then dean dying in a barn

cassie is deans first love, cas is his last

the imagery of the empty as cas's wings in 15x18

why do the subtitles spell cas as cass, its awful

there's a few lines in the early seasons that seemingly reference dean getting roofied / sa'd and are subsequently played for laughs, Jensen Ackles confirmed that dean would've done underage sw when John didn't leave them with enough money. I believe that this trauma is a major reason that dean never accepted his sexuality

the way deans alcoholism is overlooked and joked about is actually insane

having dean be completely ok after 15x18 is also insane, especially after the widower arc where the show specifically shows it's viewers how deeply dean grieves cas when he dies

deans death is literally so stupid. I get that the show is trying to make a really meta point about the characters not having plot armor anymore because chuck is gone, but dean deserved to find peace. if the events of the show had never happened and pre series dean had never gotten pre series Sam back into hunting it would've ended the exact same way - dean dead on a hunt and Sam dying from old age

dean spends as much time on earth as he did in hell, and while he would never be the same, I like to believe that if he had been allowed by the narrative to live longer he would've gotten back a little of the twinkle in his eyes that he had before hell

in 15x20 Bobby says that cas helped rebuild heaven but if he was there he would've gone to see dean. additionally, there's no way cas should have been able to escape the empty. this is such a glaringly obvious plot hole and it drives me nuts

I would've liked to see cas's wings in the show - not just the shadow of them

the only time I tolerate serious discussion of wincest is in the context of ethel cain

i am a Sam disliker - while he does have many positive qualities, I have a really hard time getting past him not looking for dean when he was in purgatory and him joking about deans alcoholism and other traumas

i like Sam the best when he's with Eileen, I think they're adorable together and I'm mad they killed her off

I am a chronic jack defender, that boy has done nothing wrong

it would be interesting to explore cas and jacks relationships with their respective genders

there's no way being forced to murder the dean clones didn't affect cas, we only saw him kill the last one but the first few he had to kill had to have been devastating

i'm really disappointed by 14x13 Lebanon, we get the scene with John and Sam but I would argue that dean has significantly more reasons to be upset with John and it's unfortunate that the episode just glossed over this - I believe a screaming match between the two would have cleared the air a bit and been at the very least cathartic for dean

i'm fairly sure that it's canonical that John sent dean away on his 17th birthday to kill lesbian ghosts. my personal hc is that John suspected that dean was bi and sent him to teach him a lesson

i saw a post on here comparing hunting culture to biker and cowboy culture and viewing those things through a queer lens and I thought it was fascinating - there's so much spn could've done if it cared about the show more than money and losing viewers

every time cas and dean beat the shit out of each other, it serves as further proof of their relationship rather than discrediting their relationship - ie demon dean and cas fighting in the library is used to parallel Cain and Collette. it could even be assumed that their love is stronger because Cain killed Collette but dean left cas alive

The purgatory love triangle was so silly

once dean worked through all of his trauma and toxic masculinity he would've been a swiftie

all of the main characters have old / vintage cars but in like season 13/14 dean sam and cas just collectively own and use this really ugly silver truck from the 2010s. its such a small detail but it absolutely ruins my viewing experience every time I see it

dean is actually really smart but most of the fandom overlooks it because Sam is characterized as the smart one. if you know anything about cars you know it takes an insane amount of brains to build a car from scratch (he did this with baby multiple times throughout the show) also he just makes an emf meter using basically nothing. if dean had been given the same opportunities he gave Sam, he would've been an engineer or something

i will always be a John hater, if this man has 0 haters, I am dead

[abarbaricyalp]

I thought there was a Post-TFATWS space, but there's not, so have another Free Space fill! @sambuckylibrary

Based on a Daily Fluff Diary post! // cw: injury in the last section // AO3 Link

Knock Before Entering

It's not that Joaquin hasn't seen them make out before. It comes with the territory of spending long amounts of time with two people not only deeply horny for each other, but also just deeply in love. He tries not to think about it. Tries to forget that Barnes clearly needs an outlet for adrenaline after a fight. Tries not to pay attention when a closet door shuts on the jet. Tries to ignore the eyes Sam shoots Barnes that has them both vacating a shared space.

They're good about it. Don't get up in each other's space intentionally when he's around. Barely even touch if they're all sharing a room. One time, Barnes had even slept on the floor instead of sharing a bed with Sam. Though Joaquin had woken at some point in the night and found Sam's arm hanging off the bed and Barnes's arm reaching up so they could hold hands anyway. At least it was his prosthetic arm, so Joaquin assumed he didn't need to worry about a blood rush.

The point is, it's not a secret that Sam and Barnes are together. And they're usually pretty good at keeping to themselves.

Which is why it shouldn't be surprising but certainly is when Joaquin walks back into Sam's office from hunting down the new drone prototype he'd been reporting on and finds Sam half sprawled across his desk with Barnes crowded between his legs, following him down.

Joaquin smacks a hand over his eyes like a child. It means he drops the drone, but it's live, so it just hovers next to him. "Guys, gross!" he snaps, also like a child. It did kind of feel like seeing his parents making out for the first time.

_____

He can hear them spring apart, like it's a surprise that he's back. He'd literally been gone for five minutes tops. He just had to run to his room and get this. He'd told Sam where he was going. He hears a slight exchange of shoves and elbows before Barnes says, "Drop your hand, kid."

Joaquin does after several more seconds, when he's sure the coast is clear. Sam's behind his desk again, Bucky leaning a hip up against the side of it like he belongs here.

"Where did you even come from?" Joaquin asks finally when it seems like no one else is going to volunteer anything.

"World War II," Barnes answers like the smartass he is. "Brooklyn."

“I was gone for three minutes," Joaquin clarified through his teeth. He wants to sit down, thinks better of it, stays just inside the doorway. "What if I was someone else?"

Barnes's mouth quirks a little. It's as much a confirmation as Joaquin will ever get from the man that they are kind of their own little triumvirate. If it had happened under any other circumstance, Joaquin would be elated. Right now, he is not. “But you’re not, so relax, Tweety.”

Joaquin rolls his eyes and walks into the office, giving that side of the desk a wide berth. He sets the new drone down, along with a makeshift manual.

“Don’t go gettin’ attached to that side,” Barnes says.

“Don’t,” Sam warns.

But Barnes pushes on. “I’ve hauled him up on that side too.”

Joaquin doesn’t even both to groan. He just leaves the room again.

. . .

“Ready or not!” a small, but very loud, voice calls from somewhere else in the building.

Bucky ducks into Sam’s office because AJ is fast and if he doesn’t take cover now, he’s going to get caught. There’s a gorgeous wardrobe with a false back in the far corner, but Cass had hidden in there two rounds ago, so it’s likely to be one of the first places AJ looks. The desk is too much on AJ’s level for Bucky to hope to hide well under. By design, Bucky is too big to fit into the vents.

The curtains that hang from the windows don’t quite make it all the way to the floor, but Bucky figures his dark boots will blend into the shadows if he stands far enough to the corner. He can hear AJ’s sneakers on the tile, hurrying down the hallways and checking doors, so he jumps behind the curtain and tries to hold it still.

He jumps behind the curtain and directly onto Sam’s feet.

“Ow! Hey! I’m already here. Go find your own hiding place!” Sam hisses, shoving at Bucky’s shoulder futilely. Bucky intentionally digs his heels down into the ground. Sam glares at him, then takes a deliberate step closer. “If you don’t move, we’re both gonna get caught,” he threatens. “And you know AJ will go after you before he comes after me.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow in doubt. He was almost positive AJ and Cass were teaming up to find Sam, who had not been tagged ‘it’ yet in this game. Mostly because he kept cheating by using all his flight training to get up into the rafters where, even if he was seen, no one could climb up to tag him. Well, Bucky could, but it was too much work, honestly.

“I’m faster than you,” he points out. “And I’m not above tripping you.”

Sam rolls his eyes, leans in, kisses Bucky. It’s enough for Bucky to stop digging his heels in, but Sam gets just as distracted. Actually, instead of shoving Bucky out of the hiding spot, he halfway tries to climb up Bucky’s body. It sends Bucky stumbling back, the curtain getting tangled under his foot, and they both end up crashing against the window, curtain falling away in time for the office door to get pushed open.

“Ugh,” AJ says with so much disdain Bucky kind of can’t believe it. “I knew that’s what you two were doing instead of actually hiding. It’s no fun if you don’t try!”

“It’s all Sam’s fault.” Bucky accuses. The elbow into his ribs exacerbates the ache from falling into the window sill too. Still, he puts himself between Sam and AJ. “Go find your brother.”

“Nuh-uh,” AJ insists. “I found you two. I’m gonna tag you two.”

Sam snickers behind him, squirming away from the pinch Bucky’s trying to land on his hip. “You only need one of us,” he points out.

AJ’s mouth curls to one side with frustration. “I can’t find Cass,” he admits. “I need help.”

“Alright, alright,” Bucky concedes. He steps away from Sam, towards AJ. Waits for Sam to relax. Then he grabs Sam around the waist, holding him still so AJ can run forward and tag him as the next seeker, much to Sam’s loud protests.

“Cheaters!” he cries between laughter. “Betrayal!” But it is ineffective in the long run.

. . .

There should be no one else at the compound, so Bucky’s lazily making out with Sam in his desk chair, Sam across his lap. Joaquin is doing Air Force stuff, the other young heroes are out of state or busy, the older heroes don’t really hang out there. There are no meetings scheduled, no tours, no new introductions. It’s just him, Sam, and the sunshine streaming in from the window.

It’s been a while since they’d been able to do something like this. Cap duties had taken Sam away and Bucky had been pointedly kicked off of the jet. He was still piecing it together, but he thought it might’ve had to do with Hydra. Why he was kept out of the loop with those things, Bucky couldn’t begin to guess, but whatever. In the time Sam was gone, Bucky managed to get himself hurt (which is why he should’ve been allowed on the jet) and Sam had come back so exhausted that, even when they were alone, they mostly just took the security of each other’s company to pass out for hours at a time.

But a quiet weekend and a, so far, quiet week had done wonders and now Sam is getting handsy as Bucky absently pets his chest, over his shoulder, and back down his arm. Contrary to what Joaquin thinks, they haven’t ever actually desecrated the office, but Bucky’s willing to break the streak. Especially when Sam’s fingers fall to his waistband and begin to rub out the indentions of his jeans from his hips.

“Come on, let’s break in the desk,” Bucky cajoles, opening his mouth, deepening the kiss as he licks into Sam’s mouth with more intensity than the afternoon had called for.

Sam laughs unexpectedly, sits back, stares. Bucky can tell when the answer is going to be a straight no. This is not necessarily a straight no, which is almost hot enough to get the job done on its own. Sam’s a daredevil. An adrenaline junkie. People think Bucky’s the bad influence, but it’s not always his fault.

Sam’s just about to pass his judgment, is already moving off of Bucky’s lap to sit on the desk, when the door opens. There’s no one there, which has Bucky pulling Sam away, halfway tossing him towards the window for a fast escape. His mind is already racing with the potential threat–a smoke bomb, a grenade, some other small danger that he can’t see over the width of the desk. He hears Sam grab the shield, a sure, defiant presence behind him.

No bomb goes off. Instead, an orange cat jumps up onto the desk.

“Goose?” Sam asks, lowering the shield.

“Danvers’s cat?” Bucky clarifies. “Oh, shit. No, get down!” he shouts, lunging for the cat sitting on top of Bucky’s leather jacket. But it’s too late. The cat vomits tentacles and ray guns and a glove (or maybe a hand) and slime all across the desk.

“Argh!” Bucky shouts, yanking his jacket free, which makes Goose hiss and jump down. Too late for that, Bucky hisses back in his head.

It’s only a split second later that Danvers appears, just as Goose is running out. She watches her with surprise, then looks at Sam. “Cap, I need your help,” she says. Then her nose scrunches and she looks to Bucky and his jacket. “You need to get that cleaned.”

Bucky really considers throwing it at her.

. . .

The reporters are following Sam, who is trying to answer their questions but it’s weirdly difficult to when they’re walking on his heels. The smoke of the battle is still wafting off of him, which he can’t even smell because of the concrete dust in his nostrils. The cameras flashing in his face are doing nothing to help the migraine digging through his head. He needed a med crew to tell everyone he was probably concussed and to leave him alone.

“Captain Wilson,” someone calls. It still sounds weird to hear it. That’s not really his title, but he’d stopped fighting it after the first few months. “You saved more than a dozen people in midair. How did you react so quickly?”

Sam’s shoulders and back ache at the reminder. “It’s my job,” he says. “I’m supposed to save people. These wings aren’t just a fine accessory, y’know.”

“Captain, how did you figure this plane would be attacked?” someone else asks. His office is so close. The door locks now. He has a couch with a weighted pillow that he can put over his face and drown out the lights and the noise.

“When we realized the target wasn’t physical riches, but riches of the soul and mind, it was a quick hop to the plane carrying the summit awardees and delegations.”

“Mr. Wilson, you saved lives and hope tonight. How many future conflicts do you think you stopped tonight?”

“What?” Sam asks. The words just will not slot into a logical order in his mind. “I can’t tell you anything about the future. Very good people were targeted tonight to stoke division and fear. They were targeted by bad people to get back at other bad people. It was a wholly unfair situation. I am grateful for the lives we were able to save. The damage was still large and there’s yet more clean up to do that affects hundreds of other good people. Please turn your attention, time, and resources towards doing something productive too. You don’t need wings to make a difference.”

The reporters mutter amongst themselves and Sam uses the opportunity to get a hand on the door knob, a foot halfway into his office.

“Sir, is there any update on Sergeant Barnes?”

The image of the building coming down on Bucky as he evacuates civilians flashes through Sam’s mind like a hot sword. The crackle of his comm device as it went dead mid-sentence. The silence that followed. Sam’s heart begins to thrum uncomfortably in his chest, rising up to choke out his throat. He can’t cry on camera.

“As far as I’m aware, no one has made contact with Sergeant Barnes as yet,” he starts to say.

Then the door opens. Bucky’s standing there, looking like a sight. There are bandages wrapped around his head and half of his face is bruised into a sickly black and purple. He’s covered in gashes and scrapes. His right arm is wrapped in a sling. He’s hobbling with one boot on and the other foot and ankle wrapped in even more bandages. He’s clearly in so much pain that all Sam wants to do is shove him down on a bed and keep him asleep until the serum can repair everything.

“I was dug out by the same people I had just gotten out of the building,” Bucky chuckles at the camera, like this is a normal press conference. Actually, that’s not true. If this was a normal press conference, he would be in a back room somewhere, glowering at every reporter and cameraperson he saw. He did not like public speaking. But here he is, looking like it’s his natural calling. “They made quick work of it too. Dragged me off to a med-tent. Felt right at home, huh?” he says, directing the last bit at Sam, since it’s usually Sam dragging him to medical.

Sam can’t answer. Can’t breathe. Bucky’s alive. He’s moving. He’s swollen six ways to Sunday, but he’s making jokes. He was in Sam’s office. Waiting for him.

“Excuse me, guys and dolls,” Bucky says with a wry look at the media. Wry, even though the bruising. So unfair. “I gotta do something real quick.”

And then he’s kissing Sam. It’s awkward and too warm. Both of their faces are different landscapes after the fight. They both smell terrible. Sam keeps getting medicinal alcohol in his mouth and Bucky accidentally peels off two of the butterfly bandages on Sam’s cheek as he holds his face.

It’s one of the best kisses of Sam’s life.

This time, he doesn’t let anything interrupt them.

If you enjoyed this, please consider leaving a note or kudos on AO3

[demonic0angel]

Happy Halloween! The Mad Scientist one-shot is out! Read it here on AO3 or here

CW: kinda descriptive depictions of guts and intestines, autopsies, unreliable narrator, outside POV

Bruce had noticed that Jason had been acting suspiciously for the past few months. Although it could've been attributed to an improved mood, it was just very suspicious how abrupt the changes were. Every once in a while, he would come to the Manor with almost a skip in his step and a twinkle in his eye. Maybe it was something else, but every time, a part of his personality changed and resembled something closer to... how he used to be.

Bruce was extremely worried but he didn't dare voice it. The last few times he did, he had earned all of his children's ire as well as Alfred's, who had scolded him for several hours before letting him go, citing that he was a paranoid boor that couldn't appreciate it when his children came home.

Which wasn't true!

But Bruce was undeniably paranoid and he was extremely worried that something had occurred with Jason, because the changes were just too weird.

He once couldn't stand even standing in the same room as Damian or Timothy, and now he was acting as a mediator between their fights, replacing Dick, and he was even gleefully bringing them around on his bike to have fun.

Before, he would have never read books in the library like he had used to, but now he would sit within the study with a book and lounge on the couch, even occasionally entertaining company or reading aloud to Cass.

He also wouldn't have helped around in the kitchen or linger in the Manor like when he used to live there with Bruce, but now he visited frequently and often enough that there was a consistent plate and seating arrangement for him when dinner arrived.

Bruce couldn't help but feel like it was strange.

Jason's temper had smoothed unnaturally and his mercurial moods had calmed without any fuss. The green within his eyes had mostly faded, only showing his usual stormy blue eyes.

It was... anticlimactic? In a way?

Bruce didn't know what he expected, but anytime he voiced his suspicions out loud, his family would stare at him like he grew several different heads and said heads all looked like the Justice League.

Like now, for example.

Dick stared at him with a judgmental look as Bruce futilely tried to explain his thoughts.

"Bruce." Dick said in a final tone, after Bruce tried to persuade him to hear him out. "Usually, you have reasons to worry. But we've already talked about this. Jason is happy. We already checked the first few times when you were worried and we confirmed his identity. It's him. He's doing better. So drop it, B."

Then he left with a bit of a huff.

Disgruntled, Bruce sat himself down in front of the Batcomputer and began to write his report of last night's patrol.

He was making progress when suddenly, there was a crackle on the comms and a small screen popped up. Barbara appeared, looking tired and exasperated.

"You wanted to know when Jason goes offline, right?"

".... Yes." For a moment, he desperately wanted to be less anxious for once and to be able to enjoy the pleasant change of his second oldest son. But he couldn't. As a hero, as a protector of his family and city, he needed to be ready for any and all threats.

Even if... the enemy was one of his too.

Barbara hummed. "His comms just went offline just a moment ago. He was stabbed though. That's why I decided to contact you. He was stabbed several times by an assailant before he incapacitated them, but now his comms are off and I can't reach him." She sent him the location.

Bruce immediately stood up and raced off into his Batmobile without a moment's hesitation. He trusted Barbara to inform the others if this was a trap.

When he reached the last location where Jason's location had pinged, Jason was still there. He was sitting up on the ground, his helmet still on and still bleeding. He was half hidden in shadow, and Bruce was almost about to reach him when he could hear the clicking of heels.

Immediately, he slid back into the shadows himself, cursing the fact that he couldn't retrieve Jason and bring him to safety.

A tall woman walked towards Jason, a clean white lab coat around her while she wore all black underneath. Her hair, though almost unseeable in the darkness, glinted red and was pulled up into a messy bun secured with a bandana. She stopped in front of Jason and before Bruce could stop her, she crouched down and swept him up in a bridal carry. Even with heels on, she didn't stumble when holding Jason, and she swiftly turned around and began walking away.

Bruce didn't dare attack, worried that Jason would get hurt further and decided that he would follow and see what happened.

The woman walked for a long while, before finally ending up at a warehouse. This specific warehouse belonged to Vlad Masters, one of the new investors in town, but she familiarly held a key to the door and opened it with one hand, adjusting Jason so he was held to her chest like a baby.

Bruce burned with the urge to snatch him away but he could only grit his teeth and bear it.

The woman walked inside and Bruce followed quickly, where he was lead to a secret door that was the entrance to an underground area. Bruce stealthily followed and was eventually met with the woman placing Jason down on an autopsy table in a dark area with only a single bright light, like a surgery room. Next to the cot was a table with a variety of different tools and bottles of various substances, some that he couldn't even identify.

In that moment, her appearance became clearer. She was a beautiful woman with bright red hair and blue green eyes, all set on a face that would've rivaled a demi-goddess'. Her expression held something like a manic glee within and she looked ever so slightly crazed, like she was moments away from falling to the floor and laughing or crying herself to death. Something about her just read off insanity, not dissimilar to the Joker or Jason when he was in one of his episodes.

Bruce had to focus back on her actions as his eyes widened.

Jason's head lolled and the woman somehow knew the way to take off the helmet, because it came off easily and without any explosions. She took off his mask too, by digging into his pockets for the glue dissolver. Next came Jason's gear and bodysuit, and then she was stripping him of almost all of his clothes. She left his underwear on, but Bruce's skin was already prickling at the vulnerability of his son and he itched desperately to grab him and get out of there. However, something seemed to be holding him back.

Bruce watched in vague horror and confusion as the woman turned to wash her hands thoroughly, and then turned back around to take a piece of alcohol wipe and rubbed it all over Jason's chest.

She hummed to herself softly, a pleased smile coming over her face as a frenzied delight came to her eyes. "So perfect," she muttered, sweeping her eyes over Jason's body appreciatively.

Bruce's heart dropped into his stomach as bile rushed up his throat.

The woman took a needle and inserted it into Jason's neck, injecting him with an unknown liquid. Jason's body relaxed and his expression slackened. Thankfully, he was still breathing in a steady manner, or Bruce probably would've broken his only rule at this very moment.

When the woman picked up a scalpel, she smoothly made a y-incision into his chest. Bruce barely held back a whimper.

Holding open the flaps of his skin with some tools, the woman peered inside of his chest cavity, still with a smile on her face. She began collecting blood samples before leisurely pressing down on and gingerly touching Jason's guts.

Bruce watched, completely and utterly frozen, only able to stare in disbelief and horror. This woman was absolutely playing around with Jason's body, cutting him open and messing around with his insides like they were toys. He didn't know how to feel anything but disgust, shock, and extreme alarm.

She hummed as she scraped off a piece of lung and then fixed it onto a slide, finding the microscope near her and turning it on to look into its eyepiece. She fiddled with the focus and then she observed the cells. She picked up a bottle filled with a green liquid next, and poured it into Jason's chest. The green, glowing liquid sluggishly oozed on his organs before they began to absorb at a rate visible to the eye.

A wider smile broke onto the woman's face. With the back of her hand, she petted Jason's hair and cooed, "Very good." She took a finger and poked through his rib cage to stroke his beating heart.

Bruce almost couldn't believe his eyes.

The woman continued on with her invasive procedure, poking and prodding at Jason's organs, scraping off bits of DNA to look under her microscope and occasionally sticking needles into Jason or pouring mysterious liquids inside of his chest cavity. It almost looked careless, but she wrote down observations the entire time and did it all so meticulously and familiarly that it made Bruce believe that this wasn't the first time this woman had experimented on his son's body and that this was a case study.

Jason, thankfully, didn't wake.

Somehow, with no medical equipment attached to him, he laid on the table with complete and utter stillness, as if whatever she was doing to him didn't register. It was as if he was asleep, as his breaths rose and fell calmly.

The woman was finally finished with her bizarre and disturbing experiment, and she stitched up the large cut before she turned him to his side, where various stab wounds laid, red and inflamed.

She clicked her tongue and muttered to herself, "I was careless this time," before taking more alcohol wipes and another vial of green liquid to wipe at the wound. Then she took her suturing tools to stitch him up again meticulously, each stitch straight and neat.

Jason shuddered this time, finally registering it but he still didn't wake. The woman adjusted him again and then moved herself to his head, adjusting the light as she did so. She checked all of his orifices and then took a saw.

Bruce's eyes widened and for the first time, he found himself able to move, almost calling out, "Stop!!" before something grabbed him and pulled him back.

The woman paused with the saw in her hands but didn't turn around. She just stood there in silence before she chuckled as Bruce struggled fiercely in vain from the things that captured him.

She continued on with the procedure, cutting open Jason's skull and then pulling out his brain. She carefully handed the gray organ with gentle hands, stroking its ridges with her thumbs affectionately like she was petting some sort of cat.

Jason was still breathing, even while missing the entire top half of his head.

Bruce gave a muffled scream. The thing that was holding him down grew tighter, clenching its grip.

He had to get to Jason! He couldn't lose him again!

He wanted to scream for him, but even his voice was failing.

The woman chuckled again, still not looking in his direction, but she seemed to be addressing him as she said, "Don't worry. There's only a few more procedures until he's in his best condition."

Bruce's vision was suddenly filled with darkness, with the last thing he saw being the woman nuzzling Jason's brain, before he knew no more.

————

When Bruce woke up, he was back in his bedroom at the manor, with Jason there with him, idly looking through his bookshelves. In disbelief, Bruce called out, "Jason?"

"Whoa, you're up?" Jason turned around. "You passed out in your car. What happened?"

Bruce stared at him with wide eyes. There was no scar on his forehead, nothing that indicated that what he saw was real.

"What do you mean what happened?" Bruce demanded, growing agitated. "You were injured and I went to find you and then a woman took you and—"

"Chill," Jason said with a small smile. "I wasn't injured. It was a false alarm and I got help from one of the guys I work with because I was knocked out. I'm fine, everyone's more worried about you."

Bruce stared at him in horror. Then he said slowly, "No, that's not what happened."

"Bruce, I don't know what to tell you. Nothing happened. You passed out. Wait, let me call everyone." Before Bruce could protest, Jason threw open the door and screamed, "He's awake and clearly delusional! Damian, quick, smother him!"

Fast as a bullet, Damian came running in and threw himself onto Bruce's lap, either intentionally or unintentionally doing as Jason asked and smothering him under his growing weight. "Father! Why were you working so hard that you fell unconscious?! Do you not listen to your own words?! Know your limits!"

"B?! You're awake!" Dick said and the rest of the family came running in.

Bruce was forced to console all of them as they fretted over his condition and demanded to know if he was okay. Bruce felt relatively fine, but there was only one thing on his mind as he turned and met Jason's steady gaze, which held unidentifiable emotions within. Jason smiled and Bruce couldn't help but tense, wary and very confused.

Who was that woman? What did she do with Jason? What happened?

And... was this even his son anymore?

||||||||||||||||||

A Halloween fic that isn't in Jason's POV 😱 (I'm obsessed with him being in love with Jazz)

Jazz and Jason are dating and Jazz is a freak who likes experimenting on her perfect specimen of a boyfriend and Jason is a freak who likes her being obsessed with his DNA. In Bruce's eyes, Jason is the victim, but TRUST, Jason is a willing participant and he likes being Jazz's play toy.

I kinda wanna expand on this idea, but expanding on this current one-shot further will ruin the creepy Halloween vibes, so I'll probably expand on it in the future 🫡

Thank you so much to @meditating-cat who betaed this entire series!

[spopsalt]

friend, you know what i notice is she-ra's fandom ? I notice that they always say that " dni if you ship character x character, they are siblings/brothers/sisters " or " ew, those characters are family, you can't ship them " or other comment but they did realize that they ship sisters ( c*tradora ) ?? literally they are the most hypocrites saying that, they don't realize that they are the weirdos who ships two sisters. " but they are not blood related - " adopted sisters and step sisters exist there is no need to be blood related that someone you love very much you consider it as sisters for example Cassandra and Rapunzel they are not sisters but Rapunzel consider Cass as her big sister. I don't understand how in 2024 she-ra fandom still likes c*tradora and don't realize that the ship is incest and worst cartoon for kids ( i mean, how are they going to make a cartoon for kids where to sisters fall in love and have a toxic relationship where actually the power of abuse/gaslight/ torture is the answer ?? that's so disgusting )

Thanks for the ask! The main thing people say to defend it is that they do not know what family is when they do. Adora literally says Shadow Weaver taught them mom stuff. Another one I heard that they are not blood related which is just disrespectful to real adoptive siblings. They are just as related as any other siblings. Another is that they are just childhood friends. Childhood friends do not have the same parental figure or the same living conditions. They were also confirmed to be in the original source material. What do you expect us to believe?!

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Andrew Doyle: So the Gay Men's Network official response to the Cass review is now live, it is subtitled "Towards a Vision of Post-Gender Gay Rights," and it describes the Cass review as a devastating account of an unprecedented homophobic medical scandal in the NHS and private health sphere. And here to discuss it, I'm joined by Dennis Kavanagh, the lawyer and director of the Gay Men's Network. Welcome Dennis.

So, let's start with your report from the Gay Men's Network. What is your response, in a nutshell, to the Cass review?

Dennis Kavanagh: Our response is basically this. That this is a sad day for the gay rights movement. Cass is a reality check and it's shown us that for decades now, homosexuality has in effect been medicalized at the NHS. You and I've spoken before about the fact that 90% of the kids at the Tavistock were same sex attracted.

Doyle: Which has been confirmed by the Cass review.

Kavanagh: Precisely that. So, we say this. We say this is a shocking indictment of gay politics and of the gay rights movement generally. Particularly in view of the fact that the very people who should have been protecting gay youth, principally Stonewall, weren't just abandoned, didn't just abandon their post, they joined the opposition forces, when they should have been standing up for these kids.

Doyle: And what do you think their response will be now? I know Stonewell put out a kind of unclear statement, sort of saying we accept the findings of the Cass review. But it wasn't that clear, was it?

Kavanagh: They've had two statements. They put out a tweet saying that they accepted the Cass review. Their own supporters then turned on them fairly viciously to express their displeasure with it. They've now released a longer statement in which they're scrabbling around in the Cass review for crumbs of hope, saying, well it's not a blanket ban on puberty blockers because there're still a possibility of a clinical trial, for example.

But Stonewall need to get real on this. This is over now. Dr. Cass has called time on this homophobic medical scandal. The sitting Secretary of State, the shadow Secretary of State for Health have accepted Cass. It's time for Stonewall to do the same, actually show some leadership and some concern for gay youth.

I would make this point if I may, Andrew. That statement from Stonewall, it didn't have the word gay or lesbian in it once. That's a powerful indication there.

Doyle: Okay, well it might be worth just reading out what Stonewall said they said, "Dr. Cass has not called for adolescents to have their right to their Identity or autonomy removed. Nor did Dr. Cass recommend the blanket ban on social transitioning for children of any age. Most significantly, Dr. Cass did not support unilateral 'outing' of trans young people by schools. There are clear gaps between recommendations and practical policy, and we're already hearing early reports of Dr Cass's analysis of - and recommendations about - social transitioning being used to challenge trans people's right to Identity."

But it's interesting as you say, Dennis, they don't mention the key issue here, which is their failure to stand up for gay and lesbian youth.

Kavanagh: Yeah, and what a gloss on the Cass report that is. If you look at what the Cass report actually says that social transitioning, says where this occurs, there should be reference to a clinician almost immediately because it's not a neutral act. You won't find that in the Stonewall response, because Stonewall don't seem to care about concretizing cross-sex ideation, predominantly among homosexual young population.

Doyle: But they have bought into this idea that everyone is born with a gender identity and that that might be misaligned to the body. So, this is a belief system that is now so embedded in Stonewall, isn't it time that Stonewall was just no longer taken seriously?

Kavanagh: I entirely agree. In 2015, Stonewall added the T to the LGB under the leadership of Ruth Hunt, who promised everyone she wasn't going to do that but performed a vault fast. Which is why she's now facing, in the wake of this medical scandal, she's now facing a petition started by the author Simon Edge, which is coming up on, I think, 16,000-odd signatures, a petition to remove her from the House of Lords.

Doyle: I know you say that it's time's up now thanks to Cass, but isn't it going to be tough? And the reason I say that is there are still so many prominent gay and lesbian celebrities and groups and politicians, who are saying that they're standing up for Stonewall, who are standing up for the idea that kids may have a misaligned soul and body. And actually, given the prominence of those people, maybe voices like yours are the minority here.

Kavanagh: Well, that may or may not be the case, but what matters here is not the weight of numbers. What matters here is who is right about safeguarding these children. And if I'm one voice in 100, I don't care, if I'm right. I do think Stonewall are losing purchase in the public sphere, though. I do think politicians are beginning to realize that something has gone very, very seriously wrong here. It is heartening to see a cross-party consensus of serious politicians from the main, the larger parties embracing Cass and saying that a post-Cass NHS should effectively entirely rid itself of this poisonous ideology.

Doyle: And will it be taken up by the politicians? I mean, I know Alicia Kearns was adding an amendment to the criminal justice bill to try and ban what she calls "trans conversion therapy," but actually Cass specifically refers to this, saying that actually, this should not be mistaken, this should not be confused in the way that she's doing. She doesn't name Alicia Kearns, but she says that it is a common confusion.

Kavanagh: Yeah, and we've drawn this to Alicia Kearns's attention. We actually produced a briefing notes at Gay Men's Network on that amendment to the criminal justice bill. We've drawn Dr. Cass's comments to her attention. So far, we've heard absolutely nothing. Miss Kearns seems to think it's fine to speak over and speak for gay men, when gay men are telling her, look there's a problem with this piece of legislation and it has the capacity to harm gay boys.

Doyle: What I don't understand is so many of these people, they all agree that Section 28 was this terrible thing and the idea of the so-called promotion of homosexuality in schools, it should never have happened. And here they are presiding over something which is arguably even worse.

Kavanagh: Yeah, I agree it is an absurd situation and it is Orwellian, frankly, for them to be introducing such homophobic legislation and then telling us that it's a gay conversion ban. As we've discussed before, that is precisely the opposite of what it is. What it is, is state sanctioned conversion by gender and criminal penalties for doctors that don't go along with it. We call upon Alicia Kearns to withdraw this silly homophobic amendment, and we call on the Scottish government to scrap their proposed piece of legislation, which is even worse than the Kearns amendment.

Doyle: Is it time to divide LGB and T?

Kavanagh: Yes. Our interests have been demonstrated now to be entirely contrary to each other. And look, we are different protected characteristics, right. The those who have the gender reassignment characteristic under the Equality Act, good luck to them, and they of course should have rights in law. No one's opposed to that. But this force-teaming, this marriage cannot work, and it's become an abusive relationship.

Doyle: I don't understand because I saw Jeremy Corbyn speak this week, saying that there is no LGB without the T. How can it be the case that gay people who want to organize in their own interests should be connected automatically to the belief in a gender identity, which is a completely separate thing to sexual orientation? Does he not, has he not even talked to people about this, or attempted to understand?

Kavanagh: It's just another straight man telling us how to organize. How dare? How dare he stand up and say, you gays, you can't organize unless you force-team with a bunch of other people that I, a straight man, have chosen for you? Jeremy Corbyn has no right to say that to us. He doesn't understand this issue. He doesn't understand that our interests are sometimes contradictory, as is demonstrated by this global homophobic medical scandal.

Doyle: Now I wanted to ask you about an open letter that has been put together by James Esses, who's a campaigner, and this is a letter which has a number of signatories including yourself, and I should say for complete transparency, including myself. And this is calling on the government to have a full investigation into the impact of gender identity ideology in all aspects of public life. Can you tell us a bit more about that?

Kavanagh: Sure, I can tell you I'm one of the three directors of Gay Men's Network, all three of us have signed this and we support James's efforts here. We also call for a public inquiry in our consultation response. We invite ministers to consider their powers under Section One of the 2005 Inquiries Act, which is established to deal with areas of public concern. Well, what more could be of public concern than a medical scandal where the harm is disproportionately visited on defenceless children? If that's not a matter of public concern, I don't know what is. We need to get gender ideology out of the public sphere. We've got an NHS calling, insulting women by calling them uterus-havers. We've got the BBC teaching kids there's 100 genders. We've got the CPS introducing-- or proposing, two-tier prosecution standards in the case of sex by deception, which we've discussed in the past. We got Kemi Badenoch saying, across the floor of the Commons, I was told by my officials, her civil servants, that I shouldn't meet with Keira Bell, and we know that that meeting had a fundamental effect on that minister.

Doyle: That's a detransitioner.

Kavanagh: That's right. Keira Bell, who heroically and courageously brought the case of Bell and Tavistock a judicial review. So, we support James's call for there to be a public inquiry. This ideology has run riot. None of us voted for it. None of us got a say in this. And yet, it seems to have infested all areas of public life. We're sick of it because, as we can see with Cass, this is not an academic debate, right. It's not the Judith Butlers and the gendercrats and, you know, the Stonewall's CEOs at their black-tie dinners who pay the price for this. Who pays the price? Vulnerable kids. Autistic kids. Kids that are looked after. This is not okay. We need to deal with this.

Doyle: And you make the point about it not being democratic. It is in both parties. You know, this is the-- we can't vote this out. There's no way. So, is it likely that a public consultation or investigation will happen?

Kavanagh: Well, we shall see. We're making the case for it, that's all we can do for the time being. James has amassed a very impressive list of signatories from all sides of the House. We've got to get real about this. This is a medical scandal without equal. This was gay conversion 2.0 at the Tavistock. Lives have been ruined by this. Evidence from the Mayo Clinic in America just last week suggests that boys given puberty blockers have testicular atrophy, so the tissue in the testicles is degrading, and an increased cancer risk. That's where "gender" has led us to. There's going to-- heaven forbid, but it does seem likely that we're going to end up with some boy walking around now, probably in America going to end up with cancer in his testicles because of these clowns and what they unleashed on defenceless children.

Doyle: Finally, Dennis, could you tell us where we can read your full response to the Cass review?

Kavanagh: Sure. The full response is available at www.gaymensnetwork.com under Letters and Resources.

Doyle: Dennis Kavanagh, thanks ever so much for joining me.

[cest-la-vieve]

Meeting Eve (The Fourth Time)

Summary: Azriel's been through several versions of Hell but none quite as painful and pleasurable as this one...

IF YOU HAVE NOT READ A COURT OF PAIN AND PLEASURE, DO NOT CONTINUE. YOU CAN DO SO HERE: Chapter One

Word Count: 6.9k (not 8k but i have received confirmation it's good enough ;) )

Warnings: cussing? angst

Notes: this,,,, has taken me ages. between the end of the school year and covid and surgery i am sorry it has taken so long BUT i truly believe it's worth it. i hope you enjoy and, as always, feedback is appreciated and encouraged 😘💜

Next: The Fifth Time

ACOPAP Masterlist

---

The fourth time that I saw her, it was the worst moment of my life.

I had fought in wars. I had been tortured. I had nearly died. Hell, I was half-dead when it happened.

As bad as everything had been leading up to that point, being stabbed, being poisoned, and being trapped, nothing was as bad as the moment I looked up and saw her.

Mor and Cassian had me between them. I could feel the spear in my chest every time I tried to breathe, I could feel the warm sticky blood dripping off me onto the floor, and I could even feel the poison in my veins being willed by the King of Hybern. It was the most pain I had ever been in and all logical thinking had long since left me.

Just hours ago, we had stood getting ready to leave. I had watched Feyre shift awkwardly as she assessed all the weapons strapped to her - at Rhys’ insistence. In other situations, Cassian would have made a joke about how much of a mother hen Rhys had become over Feyre, but we knew the gravity of the situation at hand. Rhys had told us time and time again that Feyre was to be our priority.

When Rhys had winnowed in from Under the Mountain, talking about his mate, it was such a bright spot in the darkness of the past 50 years. It had taken a while to come back around to, after the hugs, reunions, and debriefing, but the love and adoration and pain on his face when he first began talking of Feyre… it both filled me with indescribable joy for my brother but a deep sense of dread at how painful it must be to know the one that he was destined to be with was so far out of his reach. 

So it had been easy for Cassian and I to assure Rhysand that we would do everything in our power to protect Feyre from Hybern. For Rhys, we would. Even if he hadn’t asked.

These past few months, watching him wait for Feyre and letting her come to her own conclusions, watching her find her own place in our family, and watching her confidence in using her powers grow had been an honor. She was perfect for Rhys, truly his equal in every way and… a really good friend to all of us.

While neither Cassian nor I were necessarily jealous of what Rhys and Feyre had when they finally mated, there was a moment when he looked at me and I knew that he felt what I did. That longing for someone who makes you realize that everything you had been through was worth it. It was worth it to live through centuries of pain and one battle or war after the other just to get home and look in their eyes. To feel their warmth in the bed next to you when you woke up. To comfort yourself with their scent when the world feels like it’s falling apart around you. Something every Fae hears stories of from infancy that love and connection - a bond that can’t be broken.

So when we stood, facing the most important mission of our very long lives, Cass told Rhys, “With my life, High Lord. I’ll protect her with my life.”

I didn’t hesitate to say, “With both of our lives.”

From there, things mostly went according to plan… until they didn’t.

I used my shadows to move swiftly over the water and confirmed that Cassian had Feyre. Once we were at the castle, it was easy to make quick work of the guards. A flurry of shadows and a quick slice of my knife had them dead on the ground before they could raise any sort of warning or alarm.

Centuries had taught me to shut off everything in moments like these. Though I always remained at the ready, rarely letting anyone in, I still enjoyed every second with my family - and I hoped they knew it. But when I had to torture or kill… I turned off every thought, emotion, and worry and let the instincts of 500 years of training consume my being. Emotion was weakness. One wrong thought could get you killed.

And it made it a whole lot easier to live with what I had done afterward. It made it easier not to carry the weight of every scream or death at my hands if I simply wasn’t thinking when it happened. So slicing through Hybern’s guards was finished before my brain even caught up with what I had done.

I worked automatically with Cassian, no communication needed, as we moved through the castle at Feyre’s direction, branching off to deal with any soldiers and returning to escort her to the Cauldron.

Once we reached the stairwell and Feyre indicated that was the final descent before the Cauldron, I stood on her left and Mor stayed on her right as Cassian traveled down the stairs to clear them.

I met Mor’s eyes over Feyre’s small frame and a twinge surged through my heart.

Mor was… an incredible female, to be sure. As much as I was scared to admit it, I had realized it was time to reevaluate my feelings for her after Feyre and Rhys had mated. If it hadn’t happened in this many years, when would it?

This dance she, Cassian, and I had been doing for the past several centuries had just become so comfortable and familiar that I worried about what would happen if one of us broke its unspoken rules. If someone said aloud what we had kept quiet for so long.

Cassian often found himself caught in the middle, used by Mor to get me to back off when things got too close to crossing that border between friendship and something more… intimate. I knew Cass didn’t care but I also knew he was well aware of the politics of it. As much as he liked to pretend he couldn’t fathom such things, ‘he’s just the general of the armies and Rhys handles the politics’, he was too smart not to see it.

If Rhys had found Feyre a mere three years after starting to have visions of her… Clearly the Mother worked in interesting and frustrating ways, meaning 500 years of waiting for Mor to have that conversation with me… Well, perhaps it was time to… let that idea go.

Cass’ whistle from the bottom of the stairs snapped me back into defense mode, even as Mor shot me a small wink. I huffed some air out of my nose, knowing she was trying to lighten the mood but gave her a look that told her I hadn’t missed the worry and fear etched on her gorgeous features.

When we entered the room where the Cauldron sat seated on the dais, my breath caught in my throat. My shadows froze completely, unsure whether to scatter, disappear, or surge towards the wretched thing. I could feel their hesitance, almost as if they were waiting for the Cauldron to tell them what to do, rather than me.

I studied the entire room, noting exits, entrances, the depth we were at, and any possible escapes that would need to be made. I listened for footsteps but instead heard…

Feyre began walking towards the Cauldron but I reached out an arm to stop her, “Listen.”

I could hear the throbbing emanating from the supreme power of the object in front of us. I could also hear the way my shadows, finally moving, balked at the messages it was sending. It wasn’t a language I had ever heard or even a language at all. It was almost a strange music that was somehow beautiful and hideous and made every blood vessel in my body feel like it was going to burst. It was not the soft alluring song of the shadows that I had taught myself. Instead, it was demanding, consuming.

One glance at the others told me that while they heard it, they didn’t hear it. Not the way I did.

Feyre moved towards it, Mor at her back and Cassian and I on either side of the room.

I stood silent as Feyre reached out to touch it, then brought the two halves of the book together.

Mor and Cassian argued but I just watched. I could hear Mor telling Cassian exactly why this was a bad idea, but they didn’t notice the way Feyre’s body began to slouch and her eyes rolled back into her head. They were too preoccupied to see how her very life seemed to be draining from her, so I stepped in, knowing that this price was too steep, even for Rhys, who would give anything to save us.

I tore Feyre from the Cauldron and held her limp body upright. I could barely hear her breathing above the thrumming coming from the Cauldron, louder now that I had stepped closer to it. It was taking too long for her to wake up.

Mor and Cass had gone completely silent, fear apparent in their open mouths and heavy breathing.

Feyre’s nose began bleeding and I shook her.

She couldn’t die. Not when Rhys had just found her. Not when they had just mated and she had found her place with us.

I shook harder and her eyes snapped open. I almost breathed a sigh of relief but the sound of footsteps stopped me. I instantly shoved Feyre behind me, worried in her current state she wouldn’t be able to fight or defend herself.

I raised my blade and kept my eyes fixed on the stairwell as the footsteps neared. I could feel Feyre still behind me as she became more aware of her surroundings and shook off whatever the Cauldron had done to her.

Immediately, I sent word to Rhys. He appeared near-instantly, taking the book from Feyre and moving to help face Jurian. His visage of calm didn’t waver once, but I knew him too well to be fooled by his lack of worry.

I reached for him, not physically or with my shadows, but across that bargain bond, the one he, Cassian, and I had made so long ago. It felt faint, almost flickering, and I attributed it to his focus being elsewhere.

I got a small answer back, one that confirmed the anxieties I suspected. We weren’t supposed to have had to call him in. This was supposed to be an in-and-out operation and despite planning for every situation we could think of… There was no telling what Hybern would do.

I watched closely, listened for reinforcements, and snarled as Jurian dared to call Mor a liar.

After what he had done… I almost killed him then but Rhysand narrowed his eyes, telling me to back off.

So I held firm, keeping Feyre behind me until Mor grabbed my hand and Cassian’s and moved to winnow us out of here. To my surprise, and Mor’s, we remained in the room. Her look of shock mixed with fear as she realized her power wasn’t working.

I felt Rhys’ power trying to surge, only to be met with nothing.

Cassian and I crouched, knowing that we didn’t need the magic of our High Lord or siphons to defeat Jurian. He was human and therefore he was vulnerable and weak.

He wasn’t the problem. The problem was Hybern and whatever his plan was now that he had us trapped here.

Winnowing wasn’t an option. Rhys blowing this place to bits with a snap of his fingers also wasn’t an option. Which meant the only way out was through brute force and blood.

Rhysand sent us a nod before moving to leave and every muscle in my legs tensed, ready to run for it. It wasn’t going to be easy but we could make it. We could -

The King of Hybern appeared at the top of the stairs at the same time I felt pressure bloom in my chest.

I stumbled backward at the force the bolt hit me with. I looked down and fell to my knees as Mor’s screams echoed throughout the hall. It took seconds, some of the longest of my life, for the pain to catch up to what my eyes could see. Though I could see the bolt sticking out of my chest the pain only blossomed once my eyes finally dragged their way back up to meet Mor’s.

Through the pain, I could feel the poison dancing in me, taunting me, confirming every word the King spoke when he told my Court the repercussions of acting against him.

I wanted to speak, to tell them to just do it - kill him and let me be the sacrifice - but every movement caused a burning in my veins as if my blood had been replaced with sand. 

I barely registered Rhys and Cass grabbing me and dragging me along with them. So different from earlier when I moved automatically, with no intent, strategy, or conscious thought, now I was alone with my thoughts. 

I had to tell my body to breathe, my lungs no longer working on their own. I felt the blood dripping down my chest and my back. I had to fight for every thought and use every ounce of energy to focus on what was unfolding before me.

Spring. I recognized the scent. I forced my gaze to focus, willing my eyes to work as they normally did, and saw Tamlin and Lucien emerge from somewhere in the room.

The bastards had set us up.

Rhys and Cass’ hold on me tightened and I didn’t need to bond between the three of us to know exactly what they were thinking.

There were voices, Rhys I’m sure holding back whatever he really wanted to say to the two-faced High Lord of Spring, but the blood pounding in my ears made it difficult to do much but reach for my blade. The adrenaline would take over if we needed to fight, as it had before. This wasn’t the worst wound I had faced but I knew that poison… the poison controlled by the King of Hybern would kill me faster than I could grip the hilt of my knife.

I listened as the king explained his part of the deal with Tamlin… to break the bond between Feyre and Rhys. Had my blood not been poured on the floor in front of me, it would have run cold. The bargain bond or… No.

They likely hadn’t made the connection between Rhys and Feyre yet. They didn’t know - couldn’t know. As long as Rhys stayed away from her and they didn’t scent it… it would be okay.

My emotions were a swirling mass of confusion. With a clear head, I could usually sort through and control them easily enough, conceal them from others. Now though… 

Now I knew I was angry. Angry that Rhys and Feyre could lose what so many sought after. 

I was afraid. Not afraid I was going to die, but I was going to die before I could do anything to save my family. 

Mostly, I was… calm. A damning sense of calm washed over me. My steely resolve returned for a moment as I realized this was not the time to be overwhelmed by my emotions but instead to tune them out and focus on what I could do.

Jurian was staring down Mor, sword in hand, and I did my best to look intimidating despite the wave of nausea that swept over me from holding my head up.

I vaguely saw Feyre winnow, still attuned enough to my own senses to reach for the power in my siphons, try to help and fight. If she could winnow, surely someone had figured out what was blocking our powers. But I was met with nothing and nearly lost my balance as Rhys dropped me to punch Tamlin square in the jaw.

It was almost comical the way Tamlin went sprawling. In my pain-riddled state, I had to work twice as hard to hold back the smirk threatening to spread at his shocked expression.

I felt Mor move my arm around her shoulders, working to keep me upright. I tried to meet her gaze but she was staring straight ahead, as was Cassian.

I tried again to tell them to leave me behind. To let Hybern make good on his promise just so they would have the chance to kill him and Tamlin, take the Cauldron, and get the fuck out of here.

I heard the shuffle of footsteps as soldiers poured in and the clack of heels. I tilted my head up, my remaining shadows reporting the presence of the human queens. The human queens and… no.

I could only hang limply between my friends, my family, as the King brought in Feyre’s sisters. I smelled her scent the second she walked into the room and forced my eyes to open, if only a little, to confirm I wasn’t dreaming.

I found her within seconds, bound and gagged. I could barely see her as my eyes fought to close from the amount of blood still dripping from the ash weapon wedged in my chest. 

~

Evelyn.

Her hair was wild around her face, her scared and tear-stained face. Her eyes were wide and red, desperate and full of fear. She, like me, was dangling limply between two guards and I could only imagine how badly she was hurting right now. I could take this. I was Fae, I could handle the pain and this wasn’t even close to the worst I’d felt… Well, maybe close. But she was human. Beautifully and perfectly human. More than that, she was constantly in pain, working around the clock to manage her symptoms.

She never knew that my shadows would report back more than just her talking to them or her with her human fiance. They’d tell me of every stumble, every wince as she took a step, every day that she would lay crying because she couldn’t get out of bed. More than that… they told me of the moment they could tell she was going to power through. An entire mental shift where she would no longer let the pain control her and instead conquer it. Most times, it worked. Others… she was too badly hurt.

That was where she was now, I could tell. Whatever energy had been summoned to fight off her captors and get her to this point had left her drained and in pain.

Rage burned through my blood at her torn nightgown and the absence of any joy on her painstakingly beautiful face. She, despite the numerous times her body had given out on her due to pain, had always had a smile on her face. 

Even when we first met her, as imposing as our Court must have seemed, she was confused and scared but joy seemed to have a permanent stage in her green eyes. It danced and flickered behind every word, every jab at someone, and even as she had stood still behind her sister at the meeting with the queens.

I watched those now terrified eyes dart around the room, trying to take in everything that was going on. They landed on me and she took in the blood, the weapon sticking clean through my chest, and Cass and Mor holding me up. I couldn’t meet her gaze, my eyes falling shut as my head began spinning. I could still hear as she managed to try to fight against the Fae who held her. I heard the muffled, broken cry leave her lips.

I blinked my eyes open again, needing to know she wasn’t hurt. I lifted my head to look directly at her. I met her eyes this time, the green of them blurry thanks to the tears held within them.

I tried to will myself to my feet and force my body to comply with my mind and kill every single person in here who was responsible for making her look like that. I growled low in my throat, trying to sound threatening, to gain a bit of composure, but it was no use.

My attention flicked to the other sisters at that point, Nesta with messed hair and wild eyes to match Evelyn’s but a fire within them that her younger sister lacked. I could see the gears in her head turning and the anger towards us, perhaps even hatred, growing as she realized exactly how she and her sisters got roped into this situation.

Elain stood next to them. Her clothes were still disheveled, but no evidence of violence as her sisters had. Her face was flooded with tears, her eyes still streaming like the Sidra, as she remained trapped in the guard’s hold. It was as if she were frozen, a deer that had heard the sound of a predator’s footstep in the distance. But the predator was right in front of her. And she had no means of escape. 

The stark differences between all the sisters amazed me. Together, the four of them encompassed all that was special about humanity. Nesta, dignity and temper. Elain, innocence and fragility. Feyre, human creativity and enduring love. And Evelyn, tenacity and vulnerability. The four Archerons. They completed each other.

I only stared at the sisters as they listened intently to what was going on in the room, but couldn’t gather my thoughts enough to process what was being said. My head throbbed at the effort it took to keep myself awake and aware of my surroundings. I clenched my eyes shut, trying to force my brain to focus. Any information could be the thing that helped get us out of here.

I heard Tamlin’s voice echo at the realization that Ianthe had betrayed him. I would have snorted if I had the chance. The ignorant fool.

I heard Feyre take a step and then the hall was filled with the King’s power. Cassian’s screams pierced through the haze shrouding my mind and I opened my eyes just enough to see him standing above me as his wings were shredded.

I screamed, but it was drowned out by the sheer pain radiating from Cassian. I couldn’t help the tears that slid out of my eyes at seeing my brother’s wings near-disintegrate in front of me as I was on the ground, unable to stop it. He had stepped in front of me, willing to take the blast to protect me, and I could only watch in horror.

I fought to stay awake and find something to focus on. I just had to stay awake. Now that Cassian was down, I had to find a way to get Feyre out of here. I had promised Rhys.

The three Archeron sisters remained gagged, tears still lining Elain and Evelyn’s cheeks, but screamed as Tamlin lunged for Feyre.

Mor yelled and jumped at the King. I waited for the moment she met him, hopefully delivering a killing blow, but I felt the poison in my blood flow closer to my heart and could only let out a weak cry at the pain that flooded me.

Mor stopped in her tracks and moved towards me, crouching as she reached me.

Evelyn’s shout brought my gaze to her and I watched in awe as this tiny human girl stomped on the foot of the guard who was holding her and broke free. She lunged in my direction and my heart fluttered at the thought of her reaching me. The thought of her holding me like this made me want to cry in agony and joy. At least if I was going to die, unable to help my friends, hers would be the last face I’d see.

I carried her with me everywhere. In darkness and doom, in light and laughter, the thought of her somehow followed my every footstep while also guiding my way. 

In Velaris, as families walked and children played in the street, I would think of how gentle and kind she would be with them. At Rita’s, I found myself wondering what smart-ass remark she would chime in with. At night when I couldn’t sleep, when not even the soft song of my shadows could comfort the pain I had experienced or the pain I had inflicted on others, the memory of her so stubbornly reaching for that tea set would soothe me.

She was the purest form of light and joy that I had ever encountered. It fascinated me, how a human that was otherwise so frail, whose life was so fleeting, and who had experienced more pain than even some Fae have in their centuries of existence, managed to smile and joke. Yet here I was, dying and rarely ever being able to pull myself out of the darkness that metaphorically and literally surrounded me enough to even feel at ease with my family.

It seemed as if time was moving in slow motion. The look of hope on her face as she flung herself towards me, the edges of her mouth just starting to turn up into a grin around the gag set between them, and then her abrupt screech of pain as she jolted backward, the guard maintaining the hold on her hair that had prevented her from crossing the room.

If it weren’t for the hold on my power, everyone in the room would have been dead. Friend and foe alike.

“Don’t you touch her,” I growled, my gaze pinned on her and the Fae who held her.

Her panicked gaze met mine. I had never felt so powerless, not even as a child in that cellar. At least there, I found something that could give me power. Something that could comfort me.

Here, I was useless. I was broken.

I felt Mor kneel beside me, placing a hand on my chest. With the little strength I had, I moved mine to cover hers and I met her teary gaze. She was trying to stop the bleeding, that much I knew. But it was no use.

I tried to convey with my eyes the words my mouth couldn’t form. A million apologies, a million sweet nothings, a million thank yous. I knew then that the game we had played was ending and I was going to be the loser. That was okay though, Cassian and I had sworn to Rhys to protect Feyre with our lives and were duty-bound to honor that. Even so, I glanced across the room at Evelyn, wondering what my life might have been like if this wasn’t the final moment in it.

“Put the prettier one in first,” the King’s voice said. I snapped my attention to him and watched as Elain was shoved forward.

A shot of pain racked through my body and I shuddered. I couldn’t help the cry that left my lips at the feeling of the poison inching closer to my heart.

“If any of you interfere, the shadowsinger dies.”

Just do it, Rhys. I’m not worth this. I tried to reach for that mental link but found nothing.

As Elain was shoved towards the Cauldron, Nesta screamed and fought in a way the toughest Illyrians I had seen would have shrunk at. Evelyn’s eyes were closed as tears ran down her face and her body gave out on her. The most innocent of them all being punished first seemed unfair. I tried to move myself forward to fulfill the promise I had made but that magic poison in my veins surged the faintest bit, reminding me of my fate if I tried to intervene.

I was aware of Tamlin and Lucien being stopped by the King. They were both chained to the floor by his magic, a consequence of realizing far too late that they had chosen the wrong side.

I could do nothing but watch as the soft-spoken Archeron was shoved into the Cauldron. Nesta’s screams echoed throughout the rooms, nobody else daring to make a sound. I saw Cassian’s hand twitch for her and I tried to reach my own out and move my legs to stand but Mor forced me back.

I glared at her the best I could but I’m sure it was far from intimidating with the pained grimace on my face. She just narrowed her eyes in a way that told me I wouldn’t be moving for a long while. Her hand on me tightened slightly in warning and I knew that I must be in much worse shape than I could tell. 

Nesta’s screaming stopped as Elain was poured from the Cauldron and laid limp on the floor.

She was… Fae. My heart clenched at the realization. I knew how much her betrothed hated the Fae and how terrified she herself was of them. This was the cruelest irony the Mother had ever wrought - turning the one family to Fae that hated them yet did everything to help protect them. I knew Feyre was meant for this - to be one of us. It suited her better than her human life had, according to her stories and what Rhys had told me. But Nesta, Elain, and Evelyn, the elder two especially… I had no idea what this would mean for them.

The only hope we had was stopping Hybern before either of the two remaining sisters were forced into that… thing. 

I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t save Elain. I hadn’t been able to fulfill that vow I had sworn to myself to protect these women. I couldn’t get Rhys or Cass out of here. All I could do was watch in horror as Elain remained on the ground, her nightgown completely soaked and her now-pointed ears sticking through her wet hair.

“The hellcat now, if you’ll be so kind,” the King’s voice ordered and I saw the guards behind Nesta go to move her forwards.

A shout stopped them and their eyes turned towards Evelyn.

She had never looked more beautiful than she did at that moment. Despite the tears on her face, the gag in her mouth, and the disheveled hair, her eyes held the defiance of a thousand souls. Her chin was in the air and she stared pointedly at the King of Hybern. No hint of shaking or fear as she met his gaze, eyes burning with a promise. 

“Or it seems we have a volunteer. Very well,” and he gestured to her guards.

No.

My blood turned to lead and my heart stopped. She couldn’t do this. This couldn’t happen.

I watched as she struggled to walk to the Cauldron, her legs failing to find purchase underneath her as she was guided to the platform it sat on.

I tried to shout at her or to tell the King or the guards to stop. I wished they would just kill me rather than make me watch this. I’d rather die a thousand times over than have to see that look on her face that mirrored the one she had back in the manor when she had been prepared to die.

500 years with Rhysand had taught me how to handle someone being self-sacrificial, but he was immortal. He had survived and as angry as it made me each time he placed our lives above his, I had faith in his ability to fend for himself. For Evelyn to think that she was somehow less than us, that she could sacrifice herself to somehow save us, I wasn’t sure if it was the kindest thing someone had done for me or the stupidest.

She met my eyes as the guards lifted her. I tried to convey everything I could as she stared at me. My vision was blurry from bloodloss and I had to strain myself to keep my eyes open, but I wouldn’t let her go through this alone.

Don’t do this. Don’t die. Don’t leave me.

I knew I must have looked pathetic, panic written across my face as she was slowly lowered into the Cauldron. For once, I couldn’t bring myself to think of looking weak in front of both our enemy in Hybern and a rival Court. All I cared about was how horribly I had failed. I failed to be prepared for Hybern’s spell, failed to save Feyre for Rhys, and failed to protect the sweetest soul that had decided I was worthy of even a speck of her light and kindness.

Just as her head was about to go under she flashed me a smile and shook her head. Her eyes glittered, not with joy like they usually did, but with a goodbye. 

For those few seconds, I let everything I had tried to bury deep and forget these few months come rushing back to me. All the thoughts and daydreams I wouldn’t let myself indulge in because I didn’t fully understand hit me at once. Her eyes held everything I had ever wanted. I let myself picture her singing in the kitchen as she made tea, her playing with my shadows between her fingers, my hands in her hair as I kissed her, and even just holding her small body in my arms. I couldn’t fathom how this human woman had found herself in the deepest reaches of my heart so quickly, but I knew I wanted - no, needed - more time to figure it out.

She had to survive this.

And then she was gone, fully emerged in the Cauldron.

I let out a sob. Mor’s head whipped to me and her eyebrows furrowed, whether from confusion or worry I didn’t know. I only spared her a glance and fixed my gaze on the Cauldron, waiting.

I held my breath from the second she entered the Cauldron to the moment she spilled out of it. It felt as though I couldn’t allow myself to breathe if she wasn’t. My body wouldn’t function unless hers was too. I knew in that moment… no. 

For Feyre. She had to be okay for Feyre. We had promised Rhys, Feyre, and the Archeron sisters that we would protect them. It was our duty and nothing more.

As the guards tipped over the Cauldron, her small body came tumbling out of it. She was sprawled across the ground, much less ceremoniously than Elain had exited. I waited for her to get up, to sob or cry as Elain had. Instead, she stayed on the floor.

I let out a sigh of relief that she seemed physically unharmed, but it quickly caught in my throat. I raked my eyes over her form and tried my hardest to concentrate on hearing her heartbeat. She was eerily still. And I heard nothing.

She wasn’t breathing.

She wasn’t breathing.

I whipped my head to Rhys, eyes desperately begging him to do something, anything. I tried to form words but couldn’t. Through the throbbing pain in my chest, my hand still clutching the wound, blood still spilling sticky and warm between my fingers, and the deep tug in my gut, words couldn’t explain how much this could not be happening.

He managed to grab her before the King’s guards. He dragged her to Feyre, Mor and Rhys looking at each other in panic, neither knowing what to do without their magic.

But Feyre knew. And she worked as a human would have, hands-on Evelyn’s chest, and blowing air into her lungs.

We all just stared until Evelyn’s mouth opened and she coughed. Instead of water leaving her lungs, an inky smoke spilled out of her mouth. Her chest began moving and my entire body went limp, a sigh leaving it.

She was alive. 

And as she coughed, eyes still closed, in her new Fae form. I felt it click.

That moment that I had waited for my entire life that I still wasn’t completely sure I deserved. I felt that link between her soul and mine and I gasped. Mor rushed towards me, fussing over my wound, but I actually managed enough strength to push her away from me.

Her mouth gaped open, both at my ability to push her that hard and also at the fact that I had just shoved her away from me, but I couldn’t get myself to care. I used the newfound adrenaline in my body to throw myself forward toward where Rhys and Feyre sat in front of Evelyn.

She was on her side, arched lips slightly parted from coughing so hard, eyes gently closed, and wet hair slightly falling in her face. She was perfect. And she was perfect before she went into that Cauldron, I just couldn’t and wouldn’t let myself admit it.

I reached out an impure hand - covered in scars and blood - towards her peaceful face and carefully moved the hair out of her eyes. I shakily reached down and took her perfect, unmarked, smooth hand into my own. Seeing the marks of my past meet with her otherwise pure skin made me realize that perhaps the Mother didn’t always get everything right. There was no world in which I was worthy or deserving of someone as light and hopeful as her.

Her eyes fluttered open, but only for a moment. I could tell it was subconscious as my skin met hers but I finally admitted it to myself as her green eyes met my hazel ones.

Mate. My mate.

Her eyes rolled back into her head and she let out a deep sigh as she fell back into whatever sleep the Cauldron had put her in. I had no idea what had happened around me as I tightened my grip on her hand, noting Mor watching the entire exchange.

I could barely keep a coherent thought as Nesta was forced into the same fate as her sisters, but there was no screaming for her.

I saw Cassian struggle to move, but much like Evelyn, it was not a conscious effort. Mor had moved to my side where I laid by Evelyn, doing her best to keep me from bleeding out. Rhys looked desperately at Cassian’s wings, trying to staunch his bleeding with his hands when he realized the wounds were still open.

Nesta didn’t so much as cough as she left the Cauldron, getting to her feet and immediately shoving Lucien away from Elain. 

My eyes widened at his confession of being her mate but my mind couldn’t even wrap around the thought. Nesta dragged Elain next to Evelyn and crouched protectively in front of both of them.

I met her eyes as she took in my red-stained hand grasping Evelyn’s, but surprisingly she didn’t shove me away as she had Lucien. I couldn’t read the emotion that flickered through her gaze but I could see a silver fire that was lit deep within them. The only thing I could compare it to was how I had felt when I first met Amren, but even then that wasn’t close. 

Instead of pulling Evelyn away from me, she maneuvered herself and Elain to be within reach and kept one arm around Elain’s shoulders and the other resting on Evelyn’s motionless head.

With all four Archeron sisters officially Fae, Tamlin declared his deal to the King fulfilled and demanded what was promised in return. All this… just to break the bond between Feyre and Rhysand. Sacrificing all of Prythian just so Feyre wouldn’t have to go to the Night Court every month, despite every clue being that she wanted to be there. A selfish bastard and crazy, too.

I mentally reached for Rhys as Feyre demanded the bond - the deal - between them be broken. I wasn’t sure why she was playing along and I couldn’t handle when she screamed at Rhys asking what he had done to her.

I met Rhys’ eyes and his broken look was just another knife in my chest after everything that had just happened. Cassian’s wings, the sisters, and now we had lost Feyre.

I felt it, though, as she lit up the room. The magic working behind the scenes and my siphons filling again with power. Maybe… maybe this had been the plan all along. If it was, I had never been angrier at Rhys for not filling us in.

But I knew the King’s spell had been broken when I reached for that bond between Rhys, Cass, and I. I could feel Cass but knew he wasn’t awake, Rhys though…

Rhysand…

His body whirled towards me with realization and his eyes widened. I could see the tears forming in his eyes even as he tried to blink them back, keeping up whatever front this was in front of Hybern and the Spring Court.

The realization crossed his face at the same time he moved closer to me, wrapping the arm that wasn’t clenching Evelyn’s hand around his shoulder. Magic was back and therefore we could go home. 

I heard more talking but the pounding in my ears had finally overcome the sound of voices. Then Feyre disappeared with Tamlin.

Before the King and Jurian could do anything else, I felt Rhys hoist me and Cassian up. I kept hold of Evelyn’s hand as long as I could, watching as Mor picked her up and grabbed Nesta and Elain’s hands. Rhys held me up but gently pulled me away, urging me to drop her hand.

I wouldn’t, I couldn’t. If… If I let go, what would happen to her? Where would they take her?

I kept my eyes on her face as Mor equally as gently pulled Evelyn away from me. As my hand finally dropped from hers, I felt the vague sense of winnowing as the pain and blood loss finally overcame me. 

The last thing I saw was Evelyn’s peaceful face, without any life in it, as she disappeared with Mor.

[letsbenditlikebennett]

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @ironcladrhett @magmahearts & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Rhett can sense there's a fae nearby and ends up following Cass towards the Magmacave where she's meeting Alex for date night. Having met Rhett before, Cass is friendly... Rhett? Not so much. CONTENT: Eye trauma, unsanitary (blood)

Date night was something Cass took pretty seriously now that she had a designated date night partner. There were so many things Alex hadn’t experienced throughout her life — an unfortunate side effect of her upbringing and her parents, the oread knew. It made her angry to think about, sometimes, made her upset to know that her girlfriend had suffered so much under the ‘care’ of people who made an active effort not to understand her… but it also meant she got to be the one to help rectify that. And that wasn’t all bad. She could show Alex the best movies, introduce her to the coolest comics. She got to be there to see the way the other girl’s face lit up when she experienced all of that for the first time, and that was a good thing.

It also meant that Cass was bound and determined to make everything as special as she could. She knew what Alex liked now, and she always made an effort to make sure she had as much of it as possible. Everything in the Magmacave was ready for a new kind of movie night. A projector she’d ‘acquired’ from Walmart that worked with her phone, a bunch of snacks she’d stored away just for this moment, blankets and pillows of every shape and size… It was bound to be one for the history books, she thought. She was just finishing up her very last snack run before Alex’s arrival, grocery bags slung over her arms as she made her way back to the cave with the less ‘nonperishable’ of movie night snacks. It was perfect. It was going to be perfect. 

She walked towards the cave with a spring in her step, pausing momentarily at the sound of something rustling behind her. If this was a monster that was going to ruin movie night — or worse, try to steal her carefully acquired snacks — she was going to be mad. Cass turned around, putting a hand to her hip as she prepared to scare off whatever animal was there, only to come face to face with a man instead. He looked familiar, though it took her a moment to place him. “Hey, I know you. You were at Alan’s that one time, right? With the pool!” She offered him a bright smile. “You probably shouldn’t be out here at night time. There’s animals and stuff in the woods, you know? You don’t wanna get eaten!”

—

It had been happenstance, really, that he saw the fae girl at the store. He’d not even been inside, but walking past outside when he felt that familiar, horrible feeling that accompanied the presence of fae. Diverting his path and forgoing whatever plans he’d had in mind, Rhett followed the sensation until the girl was in his sights, then tailed her at a respectable distance. She seemed distracted, which was good, or she might’ve noticed sooner that she had a shadow that was following her out of town and towards the Flat. He dropped back even further as their location became more and more remote, careful to just use his senses to keep track of her, even when he couldn’t see her. Not like his eyes were much fucking good, anyway.

She stopped, he stopped. Must have reached her destination, then. Or—oh. No. She’d spotted him. But she wasn’t scared, she was smiling. She recognized him. 

He managed to mirror the emotion, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Aye, with the pool,” he confirmed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “That so? Well, don’t worry, I think I can handle any ol’ animal what wants to tango with me,” the warden chuckled. He glanced past her at the cave, brow raised. “You live in there?” he asked. “No judgment… live out the van, myself. Cool cave.”

—

What was he doing out here, she wondered? Had he seen her and grown concerned? It wasn’t entirely unheard of for people to worry when they saw someone Cass’s age walking alone into the woods at night, and he had met her at Alan’s, so maybe he felt some… silly sense of responsibility. It might have been exciting if she didn’t know it would likely be a temporary thing. Most adults only cared about a kid until it stopped being convenient for them to do so, and she doubted Alan’s boyfriend was any different in that regard. 

She glanced back to the cave with a shrug, opting not to answer the question verbally. He said he wouldn’t judge, but… Wait. He lived in a van? Cass squinted at him. Hadn’t Aria said the man who’d put her in his van had long gray hair, too? Uneasiness crept down the oread’s spine, but she was quick to shove it away. Alan trusted this guy, and Alex trusted Alan. It was probably just a coincidence, wasn’t it? “What are you doing out here, anyway? Just walking around? It’s kind of late for a hike, moke.” She let her tone take on a teasing lilt in spite of her uneasiness. It wasn’t fair to be suspicious of him, not really. Driving a van and having long hair wasn’t a crime or anything.

—

“Oh, night time walks are pretty much the only thing keepin' me sane these days,” Rhett laughed, though the gesture of friendliness didn't quite meet his eyes. It never seemed to, these days. He thought about how he needed to get in closer without spooking her off, and decided to lean into the misinterpretation she and Alex had had regarding his relationship with Alan. Or lack thereof, if you were the type that cared about semantics. Rhett was not one of those people. 

“Anyway, Alan says it's good fer me, so here I am. Walkin' out all the ol' troubles.” He was doing a pretty good job of being convincing, or so he thought. “Spotted you not far back... sorry I didn't call out sooner. Didn't wanna scare you. Guess followin' you ain't a much better choice, eh? Whoops.” He shrugged. “Say, Alex ain't around, is she? Been meanin' to ask her for a wee favor in regards to the grumpy ol' man back home, but ah... if she's here, could just get it outta the way now. You know how it is, I ain't great with the technology.” Now he was just lying, but it didn't really matter if this fae was going to die in the next ten minutes, did it? Besides, he felt this was a pretty decent way of making sure she was alone before moving in for the kill. Or... kidnapping. Again? Couldn't rightly kill her here, what if someone else did show up? What then? No, there'd have to be a secondary location. Didn't matter much where, just not here.

—

Old people did like night time walks, actually. Cass was pretty sure she’d seen commercials featuring old people walking at night while a disembodied voice read off a list of potential side effects, so it made sense that Rhett would rely on them. They probably kept him feeling young, or whatever. 

The oread softened a little at the mention of Alan, too, thinking of the two of them at Alex’s mentor’s house the night with the pink pool. Most of it was a little hazy — in retrospect, she so should have recognized the whole ‘high on mushrooms’ thing way before she had — but she remembered thinking they seemed good together. Balanced each other out, in a way, with Alan’s seriousness and Rhett’s willingness to join in on her and Alex’s little game.

“Yeeeaaah,” she said with a small laugh, “following a girl alone in the woods at night isn’t the best way to avoid scaring her, dude. But that’s okay.” At the mention of her girlfriend, she perked up a little. “Oh, she’s not here right now, but we’re meeting up later. I could pass along the message for you? No offense, but I don’t really want you crashing date night with my girl.” She wrinkled her nose at him, a teasing glint in her eye. 

—

“Ah! Of course, totally get that, no problem. Here, ah…” He patted his pockets for a second before fishing out a scrap of paper and a pen. “I’ll write it down just in case, howzat?” Not giving her much time to respond, the warden scribbled… well, nothing. It was just scribbles. Clicking the pen shut, he pocketed it again before folding the paper and closing the distance to hand it to Cass. “‘Preciate it, kid.” 

As he held out his hand, waiting for her to accept the paper, his heartbeat quickened. And when she mirrored the motion to take it, he struck out like a viper. The paper was dropped as that hand came to circle her wrist instead, the other jumping to her throat. He wasted no time with words, simply twisting them both around until he stood behind her, pinning her arms to her own torso while the other jumped to cover her mouth and stop her screaming. Alex was coming, and there was no telling when she’d arrive. Couldn’t stay here. Rhett began to back away from the cave entrance, dragging the nymph into the brush with some difficulty but not too much, thanks to his superior strength.

—

“Oh, that’s a really good idea!” If he wrote it down, they wouldn’t have to play the telephone game and whatever it was he needed to say wouldn’t have to go through Cass before getting to Alex. She’d probably have a hard time remembering it; when Alex was around, most of Cass’s thoughts were reduced to the gay kind. Rhett writing his thing down was a relief, and she waited patiently as he scribbled. It looked like it was probably going to be messy — she hoped Alex would be able to read it.

When he held out the page, she flashed him a quick grin and reached for it. But before her fingers could close against the paper, he grabbed her. His hand around her wrist was like a vice grip, too tight and bruising. The way he twisted her arm behind her hurt, too; she felt something snap under the pressure, but the resulting scream was muffled by the sudden presence of a second hand covering her mouth. The pain was momentarily blinding, and she checked out for half a second. When she was back to herself, she was already moving. Already being moved. He was dragging her away from the cave, and that was bad. She needed to be in the cave. She didn’t understand what he was doing or why, but she knew she didn’t want it, so she fought back. She kicked at his knees as best she could, tried to bite the hand over her mouth. Her glamour dropped, and she kept screaming throughout even though it was muffled. What was this? Why was he doing this? She didn’t understand.

—

Nearly the whole trek to the magmacave, Alex found herself wishing that she could convince Cass to stay at the cabin with her. She wasn't under some illusion that anywhere in Wicked's Rest was safe, but she at least knew there was no goo at the cabin for the time being. Every time she saw one of the faces around town, entrapped in the sludge that hardened around them, Alex couldn't help but see Cass. The pure black of the sludge was different from the obsidian and magma that made up her girlfriend. Light didn't catch the abnormality or the sludge in quite the same way. It was like there was only darkness there and it scared the hell out of her. She supposed that was part of the problem now. Her heart was too full. There were too many who's single misstep into the goo could break her. She didn't want to keep being a broken thing, not when she was only starting to piece together what she looked like as whole. 

Still, Alex wasn't going to let her own worries ruin date night. She was dating a superhero, a little bit of danger came with the territory. If she stopped Cass from protecting her cave, she'd be asking for her to give up some fundamental to who she was. It was part of her. That bravery and dedication to protecting her little piece of nature was something Alex loved about Cass. She found her cheeks grew flush at the thought and she held the little pouch of rocks she'd collected close to her chest. 

Her feet followed the familiar path to the cave and Alex smiled at the way she knew the way like the back of her own hand now. It was a pretty thought that was rudely interrupted as she heard what sounded like a whisper of a scream, as if it had been stamped or drowned out, and she felt something shift in her. All of her senses went into overdrive and she followed the sound of footsteps and dragging ahead past the cave. 

Part of her wanted to call out, but Alex didn't dare alert anyone to her presence. She could hear sounds and while there was no scream that followed, something heavy was dragging against the forest floor along with the footsteps and she had to follow it. She could smell Cass and something else vaguely familiar. 

She ran past the cave with careful steps. Alex moved as quickly as she could, avoiding patches of dead leaves that would crumble under her steps and alert someone to her presence. It had been a good move because when she rounded a tree, she was taken aback by what she saw. Cass's glamour was off and she could see a charred mark around her wrist. 

Then there was Rhett, holding her by the throat with hand over her mouth and Alex felt sick. What was this? She knew. Part of her knew right away, but it couldn't be right. Cass wasn't a monster to be hunted. It didn't compute in her mind despite what her eyes were showing her. Her eyes had to be betraying her. 

“Cass,” she called, “Rhett.” She looked between the two, begging for the picture to adjust and show her anything else, but it never did. Her fists clenched at her side and her features hardened as she found herself glaring at the warden. “Let go of her,” she demanded coldly, “Now.“ 

—

Rhett paid the screams no mind, determined to get Cass away from the cave mouth before someone came along. Someone like Alex. But, as was typical of late, the universe had other ideas, and those ideas consisted of throwing as massive a wrench in his plans as possible. 

Goddamnit.

“Doin’ you a favor, kid.” There was no surprise in Alex’s voice to see the nymph looking the way it did now, glamour dropped. That didn’t make things easier. She was a fae sympathizer. Fuck. Well, there was no point in trying to haul it off somewhere else before killing it, now. The thought that it might traumatize Alex to see her friend be killed crossed his mind but he didn’t care—just like he didn’t care about the fact that this would certainly… complicate things. He’d be alienating himself again. From Alex, which was no great loss, but then also probably from Alan, who he had a feeling she’d tattle on him to. That one hurt a little, but there was nothing to be done about it. The fae had to go. He’d wanted to see if it knew of anyone in the area named Ophelia, but that wasn’t gonna happen now. No, all he could do was draw his iron dagger and press it to Cass’ temple, his battle-hardened gaze fixed on Alex.

“Go on, nymph. Tell yer girl here how you’ve definitely never ever hurt someone. Definitely never killed anyone with yer promise binds.” It was literally a shot in the dark, but honestly, Rhett had met more fae that had killed with their words than he’d met ones that hadn’t. Not that it mattered, not that it’d stop him from burying that blade in the creature’s skull. But maybe, just maybe, it’d give Alex some clarity on the situation.

—

She was afraid, and she hated that. She hated the way her heart was pounding, the fact that she couldn’t think straight. She was a superhero. She was supposed to be a superhero. And what good was a superhero if she was trembling? What was a terrified hero worth? 

(About as much as a dead one, she thought, and if the hand around her throat was any indication, she’d be that soon, too.)

She kicked and struggled and screamed against the hand still pressed over her mouth, but Rhett was strong. It was like he didn’t notice her struggles at all, like she was a fly pounding against a glass someone had trapped her in. Her arm hurt where he’d twisted it; she thought she could feel bones grinding together in a way they really shouldn’t have been, like maybe something had broken. And the only thought her half-hysterical mind could come up with was that she’d never had an x-ray before. She’d only ever seen them on TV.

There was a quiet vibration of approaching footsteps, muted by her panic. She screamed against Rhett’s hand again, as loud as she could, and it was shameful. She wasn’t someone who needed saving. She was supposed to be the one who did the saving, supposed to be brave and fearless and invincible. But she saw a flash of red hair cutting through the brush, and all she could feel was a crushing relief because Alex was here. Alex was here, and Cass would be safe because Alex wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

The hand covering her mouth vanished, but Cass had only a moment to bask in the relief of it before something cold pressed against her temple. Even without the sharpness actually being driven in, the mere presence of the metal against her skin hurt. She didn’t understand it for a moment. Not until she remembered what Alex and Teagan had told her about fae and iron, about how there were metals made to kill her. Cass froze all at once, terrified that any continued struggle might make that blade find its home in her skull.

Rhett spoke; she felt the vibration of his voice rise up from his chest, like a dragon growling into the darkness. Her heart stuttered, because how had he known about that? How did he know about Kuma? Her eyes darted to Alex, fear suffocating her just as much as the hand gripping her throat. If Alex knew, would she leave Cass here? Would she walk away the same way everyone always had? 

“How many people have you killed?” She ground out, her voice distorted by the lack of glamour and strained by the hand around her throat. “You want to — want to talk about hurting people? You’re the one with the knife.”

Avoidance. It was a good way to lie without lying. Cass had always been so good at that.

—

There was a breath of a second where Alex found herself unable to move. She didn't trust herself to move. Every muscle in her body was already tensed as she watched the pained, contorted expression on Cass's face and the way Rhett seemed almost amused by it. Her arrival seemed to be more an annoyance than anything else and she wasn't sure she had ever felt so much anger coursing through her. It took everything in her to not snarl and pounce the moment she saw him, but maybe he didn't know. 

How could Rhett know that Cass was a superhero? How could he know that she spent her nights looking for people to help? She was good, maybe if he knew that, it'd make a difference. She wanted so badly for it to make a difference.

It was naive. Alex knew as much. Without the beard, there was no hiding the determined look on his face. There was a stubbornness in the tightness of his jaw that she recognized too well and even his touch was hurting Cass. “You're not doing anyone any favors here,” she spat, “Cass is good. She saves people and picks up litter... Doesn't look like you bothered to ask that though.” 

Because Alex knew that when he happened upon her, Cass hadn't been doing anything out of the ordinary. She was at the cave, probably about to get it all set up for their date night. She wasn't hurting anybody and here he was, holding her tightly in his grip like she was a thing that needed to be put down. He wouldn't even say her name. Her fists curled into balls at her side. “I don't need a man to tell me anything about my girl,” she barked out, “I know everything I need to know about Cass and she's good.” 

'Unlike you,' she thought bitterly. 

But then the iron blade was pressing into Cass's temple and Alex knew this was useless. That look in Rhett's eyes reminded her too much of her father's. There was no reasoning with that look and suddenly all the anger she had finally allowed herself to feel towards her parents had a convenient outlet. 

Alex let the green backpack slide off her shoulder and into the mess of fallen leaves on the ground. She thought of warning the warden this was his last chance to get away unscathed, but a warning was more kindness than Rhett deserved. Even with her true face, stony as it was, Alex could see the fear in her glowing eyes and her voice was so strained. He did that. 

She didn't let her eyes leave Rhett as she focused on the shift. Alex had been practicing and even had some success when it came to tracking down Gael with Ren, but she always closed her eyes when she pictured her own shift. She found she couldn't do that now and her glare remained trained on Rhett as she focused on the feelings in her body. She felt the ground beneath her boots and concentrated on how it felt when it was the forest floor beneath her paws. She imagined Rhett as the moose, muscles and sinew pulling apart beneath her claws and teeth. She remembered that feeling of connection that came with being part of a pack and how she felt more connected to Cass than any of the werewolves she knew. 

Alex tuned into how the werewolf in her felt when it was protecting Alan and she felt the claws emerging from her fingers. It stung lightly in the way they ripped from her skin, but it felt almost natural now, like slipping out of her sports bra at the end of a long day. Her bones creaked under her and red tufts of fur emerged from her skin, but icy blue eyes stayed trained on the warden, as if she could pounce mid shift if he so much as moved another inch to hurt Cass. 

She stood taller once her bones all shifted into place and drool was already hanging from angry jowls as she snarled at the warden. One last chance, the wolf thought. If her mark moved a muscle, she would tear out his gut and leave him there on the forest floor. 

—

“I don’t kill people, I kill abominations. I kill killers. S’what I was made for.” Rhett’s expression was callous, his heart unsympathetic to the claims that the nymph in his grasp had done good things in its life. That didn’t matter, that didn’t make up for the bad. Hell, it didn’t even make up for the potential bad, as far as he was concerned. That was what he’d been taught. They’d all do bad, given enough time. It wasn't their fault, not entirely. It was just in their nature. But that didn’t mean he had to sit by and let it happen. And he wouldn’t, not if he could help it. Not ever. 

There was something about Alex’s body language that felt threatening, and soon enough, the warden was made to see why. Ah. Well… that was… a surprise. His eyes narrowed, his grip on the fae tightening. He didn’t have a lot of experience fighting werewolves, or at least… not shifted ones. He knew a bite from one would be his undoing, if it didn’t kill him. Which it seemed like Alex kind of wanted to do. Couldn’t blame her. Didn’t change anything, except that he’d have to try and kill her as well. 

Hey, at least then maybe the news wouldn’t make it back to Alan. Silver linings. 

The werewolf was staring him down like he’d be an easy meal, and he couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what he looked like to the supernatural things he killed. Hm. Wasn’t really food for thought. To the matter at hand—Rhett wrenched his arm up beneath the oread’s chin to hold its head in place so he could drive the blade into its temple, but he’d barely pierced the soft, thin space between rocky plates when the werewolf adjacent to him leaped forward, claws reaching out and slashing across his face, massive digits hooking around his head and ripping him away from the nymph. His blade did find purchase, but it was in the top of the fae’s shoulder, digging deep before his grip on it yanked it back out as he was thrown to the forest floor. He screamed, not out of fear but out of anger, feeling the adrenaline dump in his system as he wrestled with the beast atop him, trying to avoid a bite from those slobbering jaws.

—

Abominations. Killers. The words were hurled out in a way that was so matter of fact, not even spoken to Cass. Like she wasn’t worth speaking to at all, like she was nothing. She thought of the nymphs back on the island who’d never seen her as anything more than an inconvenience, of the kids she’d met throughout her ‘adventures’ as a homeless teen who were lost and traumatized just like she was and didn’t know how to get away from that without using someone else as a stepping stone. She thought of Kuma, of the look on her face when she’d finally seen Cass in her true form, of the fear in her eyes when she spat out the word monster instead of her name and told her never to come back. 

So many people, throughout her life, had treated her like she was nothing at all. She’d been a problem in the making in Hawai’i, a ticking timebomb whose eruption no one had wanted to be in the blast zone of. After, when she’d found herself alone on the mainland, she’d been largely ignored. Homeless kids were hard to look at, after all. They made people feel ways they didn’t like feeling, and it was so much easier for someone to avert their gaze than it was to do anything to help. Kuma hadn’t been a bad person, either, not really. She’d been afraid, but not malicious. Cass had just been a little too much for her, the same way she was a little too much for everyone. 

But she wasn’t too much for Alex. 

Alex didn’t look at her like she was nothing, didn’t avert her eyes. In fact, Alex looked at her like she was everything. She looked angry right now, but not at Cass. Never at Cass. Instead, she was angry for Cass. She was furious on the oread’s behalf, and how many people had ever been that? How many people would have stood up for her against a man with a knife and a terrible certainty that what he was doing was right? 

It didn’t remove the blade from where it rested against her skull. It didn’t ease the grip holding her in place. But if that knife found its home in her head, if she died on the forest floor just feet away from the cave where she would have been safe, at least she’d die seen. She’d never thought she’d have that before.

“I’m sorry,” she squeaked out. Not to Rhett. She wasn’t sorry to him at all. But to Alex. That she was here, that she had to see this even if Cass was grateful for it. There was more she wanted to say, too, but it seemed cruel, almost. To say the only other thing in her head and die right after would be terrible. Alex would never be the same.

But… hope sprung up in her chest as Alex’s skin began to ripple. Cass knew she’d been working with Alan, training to shift without the moon, but she hadn’t known how far she’d come with it. She never would have blamed Alex if the shift hadn’t come, of course, never would have held it against her. But her bones were cracking and her body was changing and maybe things would be all right after all.

Or maybe they wouldn’t.

One hand moved under her chin, holding her in place. Cass struggled anyway, letting out a scream as she kicked and swung her elbows and did anything she could to make the target harder to hit. She felt the knife pierce her head, and she closed her eyes and waited for it to go the rest of the way through, but it didn’t. Alex was there. 

There was only a heartbeat of relief before the pain hit. For a moment, she hadn’t even realized that the knife landed someplace else. She was so happy to be alive that it took her a moment to process the knife in her shoulder, buried to the hilt. The moment her mind caught up, the pain hit. With the hands holding her in place gone, there was nothing holding her upright, either, and Cass staggered forward, falling down to her knees. 

The knife had been yanked messily from her shoulder when Rhett fell backwards, leaving nothing to staunch the bleeding. The blood had followed the knife like a fountain when it was removed, and was gushing pretty heavily now. Cass moved to put a hand on top of it, because wasn’t that what they always did in the movies? But her arm hurt from where it had been wrenched, and any pressure applied made it so much worse. The blood seeped through her rocky fingers, staining stone. 

She felt cold. And that was funny, wasn’t it? She didn’t think she’d ever been cold before. How could she? There was magma running through her veins, lava pumping through her. Volcanoes didn’t get cold, and neither did Cass. So why was she shivering now?

“Alex,” she gasped out, looking for the wolf. There was blood on the ground. Not all of it was hers. Fear gripped her by the throat. “Alex. I — Alex, are you hurt?”

—

The furious gaze of icy blue eyes never left the warden. They couldn't—- not while Cass was so firmly in his grip. Alex felt a low growl rumble through her. He regarded Cass like she was nothing and it all clicked into place. Nothing was ever black and white and men like Rhett, like her father, were too stubborn to see anything else. It was its own form of evil and she knew he wouldn't let Cass go. As the warden's arm began to move, the werewolf sprung forward claws first toward him. 

Alex dug her claws firmly into the side of his head and dragged down his face, clinging onto him as her momentum sent them tumbling to the ground. Too much of the blood she smelled in the air wasn't his and it sent a guttural snarl through the wolf as jowls hung over the warden's face. Some part of her wanted to let go of control and tear into his throat. It'd be so easy even as Rhett wrestled beneath her. Both the wolf and person in her understood one thing, this man threatened the pack— her family. 

The warden wrestled beneath her and Alex rustled atop of him keeping sharp claws at the ready. Several blows were delivered to her sides before the warden managed a shove that sent her stumbling back with her claws dragging as he pushed her away from his head, leaving shallow claw marks down his chest. It ignited more of a fighting instinct in her, more feral than anything trained, and the pulsing in his throat was something of a temptation. The coppery scent of his blood already coated the air and he was beginning to look like more of a meal. And some instinct in her knew that he deserved it. 

But then the sound of her name came out as a gasp and Alex was pulled back to what was important. Cass. The werewolf bellowed and put all her strength into a swipe at the warden's upper leg. More blood splattered onto the werewolf's coat and she knew the warden wouldn't be moving for a while. Some bitter part of her hoped he bled out there. 

The werewolf dashed towards Cass and stood in front of her protectively. Alex grabbed the fallen iron knife with her still clawed hand and waited a beat, panting heavily as she watched the warden to make sure they were safe to run. 

As her breathing slowed, Alex relaxed back into feeling like herself. She needed to help Cass now, she was bleeding and it was pooling all around her. The sight made her sick but her bones shifted back into place and her form turned back into something more human. The air was chilly against her skin, but she still felt like she was on fire. 

“Cass,” she murmured, “I'm fine— I'm...“ Alex looked over Cass and there was so much blood. Fuck. She needed to get help. “He hurt you,” she said solemnly, grabbing for the bag that had fallen to the ground and throwing on an oversized t-shirt. They needed to get far away from Rhett.

She knelt down beside Cass eyes still watching the fallen warden. Alex extended her arm and braced herself to take on Cass's weight. ”Come on,“ she said, “We have to get out of here— I'll take care of you, ok? You're going to be ok.“ She had to be ok. 

—

For the briefest of moments, there was a flash of fear in the warden’s eyes. For a moment, terror gripped him, plunging him into an proverbial ice bath and delivering a shock to his system that woke parts of him that’d been dormant for decades. He didn’t beg, though, no—he only grit his teeth, set his jaw, and closed those useless eyes as he hiked his legs up to his chest and delivered a two-footed kick that knocked the werewolf away from him. The claws that raked across his chest and stomach pulled a groan from him, but he quickly tensed again as he waited for the beast to return. He couldn’t muster the strength to rise from the forest floor, and just as quickly as that instinctual drive to stay alive had descended upon him, it fled and left him empty once more. He coughed, blood staining the backs of his teeth, and then he felt the thing tearing into his leg. It ripped through denim, muscle, and bone with ease, and the pain was blinding. Truly blinding. What little sight remained in his right eye flashed with white and all he could do was inhale sharply, feeling that he might die. Was this it? At the mercy of a werewolf? Motherfucker. 

But then the monster was gone, retreating to aid the fae he’d stabbed, and Rhett let out a low, miserable moan. He tried to pick himself up, but his leg was ripped apart and the wounds on his face were bleeding into his eyes and everything hurt. All he could do was lay there, listening to them speak, promising to take care of one another. It made him sick to his stomach, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He was down, and unless someone came to get him like the werewolf was there to aid the fae, he’d probably bleed out. 

He waited until their uneven footsteps retreated before he dared move again, lifting his ass off the dirt with a pained grunt and digging his phone out of his back pocket. Holding the device between his teeth, the warden summoned the last of his strength to drag himself over to the nearest tree and prop his back against it, spitting out the phone and retching from the pain along the way. Once he was as settled as he was going to get, he reached for the phone and unlocked it, staring at the screen with exceptionally blurry, reddened vision. His thoughts were disjointed and growing more so by the minute—the clock was ticking, he knew. He thought about contacting Emilio, but… no.

His thumb found Parker’s name instead, and he pressed the call button. There was only a brief wait before the other warden picked up, and Rhett wasted no time with pleasantries. 

“Werewolf got me. Probably got ‘bout twenty minutes afore I bleed out. Bring supplies. It’s safe now. Send you the coordinates in a sec. Somewhere near the edge of the Flat.” He didn’t even wait for the other man to respond before hanging up, looking up his longitude and latitude and sending the number his friend’s way. If he made it out of this alive, he was definitely going to have to spring for that eyepatch. He was pretty sure lefty was toast based on feeling alone, but didn’t have the stomach to reach up and touch it. The phone slipped from his hand then, head leaning back against the trunk of the skinny tree, eyes closing again as he focused on keeping his heart rate down. 

Hellfire, that hadn’t gone to plan.

—

Black spots danced around the edge of her vision, and wasn’t it strange how everything hurt when she’d only been stabbed in one place? There was just that — bleeding more than she’d thought it would — and the broken arm, but wasn’t it silly for those two things to knock her down this hard? She thought of the comics she’d read, the movies she’d seen. In media, this kind of thing would have never been enough to keep someone down. People on TV got stabbed and finished the fight before they realized it had happened at all. People in comics lost limbs and stayed on their feet. It was misleading, she thought; none of it ever told you how much things hurt.

Alex’s face was blurry in front of her, those black spots trying as hard as they could to blot it out entirely. Cass squinted around them, letting out a small sigh when she came into focus. Alex didn’t look hurt. There was blood on her, but Cass couldn’t trace it back to any injuries. More likely, the blood wasn’t hers. She wondered how much of it was Rhett and how much of it had come from her. If she weren’t so out of it, she might have asked, might have said something about how it was almost romantic to see so much of her on her girlfriend’s skin. “You’re so beautiful,” she said instead, the words a quiet breath of air.

“I’m okay,” she murmured softly, reaching up to twist a strand of Alex’s hair around her finger absently. It hurt, but it was worth it, anyway. Alex’s hair was always so pretty, and Cass hadn’t touched it enough. She should have always had it twisted around her finger like this, should have kept it there. “I’m just kind of tired.” She knew you weren’t really supposed to sleep at a time like this, because that was always a dramatic point in every show, too. Someone was bleeding, someone closed their eyes. The episode faded to black, the words to be continued flashed across the screen. The audience waited weeks or months to find out if those eyes would open again, or the show was canceled and they never found out at all. Either way, it was simpler to experience it from your sofa than it was to live it. When this screen faded to black, Cass thought, she might never even see the words.

Alex reached down and helped her up, and it hurt, but Alex wanted her to walk so she walked. Or… maybe walked was a generous term. She was dragged, she was half-carried, she was draped over Alex and guilty for making her girlfriend do the majority of the work here when she’d done so much already. She stared at her feet, tried to get them to move. One foot in front of the other. One foot. The other. God, had her feet always been so heavy? Had it always been so cold here?

She faltered, tripped, would have fallen long ago if not for Alex holding her up. The black spots were bigger now, the world felt darker than it ought to. One foot stopped in front of the other, and she couldn’t lift it again. Her knees buckled. 

The screen faded to black, and she was right — she couldn’t read the words there.

[trust-and-jump]

The name Robin in Reverse Robins AU...

...doesn't exist. In mine, at least. You see, Talia used to call Damian her little shrike. The thing is, she did it in Arabic. The problems is that I write this AU in Russian and... In Russian shrike is сорокопут (if the wiktionary doesn't lie, it is pronounced as [sərəkɐˈput]) and it's a.... long ass word. So in the field it's totally useless as codename. And if i just put Shrike in it as Шрайк it sounds not edgy but funny and clumsy. And if you pronounce it fast it kinda sounds as Shrek, and, well, it's not what I want, obviously. Because I don't want vigilante name sounding ridiculous. I mean, more than they all already do. So... Sardu, yes. Or al Sard. I asked my father (who knows Arabic a little, i hope it was enough) to confirm, and, well. Sardu. Al Sard. Or, "as Sardu", "as" instead of "al". الصرد. the "r" not being english sound here. So. The Gotham mostly knows their little carnivous Bird as Shrike (well, some media tried to call him Shadow, hm). (and yes, still Сорокопут in my Russian text) But, well, in most stressful situation, or when Batman needs Damian to calm down, or get attention, or as the last method to stop from doing something (*cough* killing *cough*) he would use Sardu. Сарду. Сард. Not the 'Sardinian language', guys xD sorry for bad english and everything shjskdkdl

Also, Batman didn't fire him. Damian just outgrew his role of Shrike the Gotham's Shadow, violent sidekick of Batman; they were starting to argue a lot, Damian being always angry like he was when he just got to Bruce; and our dumb boy B didn't realize what was the problem. So, no real kdrama, just Damian being pissed because of his father not acknowleging him as equal. Because, you know, in the League by this age (16) he would be already a rightful Hand of the Demon, like his Mother was. And, well, an adult. Lol. So..... He dissapears, leaving only a note with 'freedom' in Arabic (he is his dramatic father's dramatic son, after all), Cass stays home, Bruce doesn't panic because Damian is far too good to easily get in trouble even in anger and alone, but he is, of course, worried. That is, until he finds out that Damian is still talking to Alfred and just ignoring his father. Also Alfred acting rather cold towards Master Bruce, and Bruce is like: "What did i even do wrong?????!!! He left himself, I didn't make him!"

Blüdhaven gains its own Shadow when the Gotham's one dissapears. (Some time ago he heard his father making plans about spreading Bat's influence and his trustworthy allies across the world. But before that, he was talking about trying to clean up Bludhaven. Damian doesn't become a symbol in this city like he was in Gotham. He just continues to silently terrify and catch criminals. He also realizes that without support of the police it's a little harder. Considering that there is no Gordon to fight alongside him, Blüdhaven police department is a nightmare to deal with, more corrupted. Infiltrating as a policeman would make it easier to purify the city, but Damian is not that desperate: he's not going to actually work with people, for god's sake!.. Yet. Also, would Jon Kent a. k. a. Flamebird stop trying to sell him a name Nightwing already?! He's not going to wear a Kryptonian legend just to humor him!..)

Bruce is also a little bitter, even if he doesn't let himself think about it much. Because, well, his partner left him alone. And for what. For Blüdhaven! Unbelievable. What is his son even trying to prove, living in that hole...

But, ah, well. It doesn't matter, because before Damian arrived, Batman kept everything under control, he's strong enough to do it alone, right? Right. If he's not focused enough to work all by himself, trying to get done the same amount of work they used to do together, getting injured more, exhausting himself, it's only his problem. No one else's.

Then why, after all that shit, does Tim Drake still show up at the door with diagrams, graphs, and PowerPoint presentation?

[oracleflown]

stephcass week, day 2: first kiss

short fic i banged out in an hour because Feelings. happy stephcass to all who celebrate

cross-posted to ao3 !!

synopsis: Steph is back in Gotham. It's no secret. Cass wants to leave Gotham. Now they'll share a secret.

It’s… Well, it’s not really a secret anymore. Stephanie is back in Gotham, going to school, living it up every night as Spoiler. Once again. One more chance. She studies, goes to parties, and takes every opportunity to punch criminals as hard as she can. 

So, it’s not a secret. She’s not dead. Never really was. She’s not trying to hide it.

Steph has always been the type to look opposition in the face and not back down. It doesn’t matter who’s pissed at her, it doesn’t matter what she did, this, Spoiler, is who she is and she can’t run from it anymore. Why would she try to hide it?

Confronting the past is easier on paper. 

Cassandra watches her silently from behind her dark mask. When she is Batgirl, she is impossible to read. Nearly imperceptible at all. Steph thinks that’s probably the point. She can’t even bring herself to look at her friend, but she feels her eyes trained on her back.

They’re standing on a fire escape, silent. Classic, Steph thinks. The apartment window beside them is dark, building abandoned. Steph watches the street, the only movement from the shadows of cars and people passing by in under yellow street lamps. How Gothic.

Stephanie pulls back her hood.

It’s been no secret, but that doesn’t make Stephanie feel any less guilty. Not just guilty for what she did, her own lack of thought, her own recklessness, but also for running away. She never told her friends, the very people she did what she did for, that she was okay. Alive, at least.

There was a reason she ran, and she would never regret accepting Leslie’s help (there’s not a lot of options left for you after you’ve so royally screwed up). Still, there had been a part of her, all this time, that ached specifically for Cass, for the connection they shared. 

“Spoiler,” is all that Cass says. 

When Steph turns around, she’s surprised to see that her friend has also pulled back her hood. She is biting her lip, and her eyes are filled with a kind of sadness that Steph wouldn’t need to be a master of body language to see. 

“Batgirl.”

It’s been no secret, but maybe Cass was still surprised when she found out. Maybe Cass had wanted the rumors so badly to be true that believing in them felt like all the confirmation she needed to know they weren’t. Maybe Cass had dreamed of this. Of reunion. Guilt washes over Steph’s whole body.

“I missed you.” Cass says. “So much.”

Steph pulls her into a hug. At first, she feels Cass stiffen. Then she relaxes. Then she hugs back.

“I missed you too,” Steph whispers into her friend’s neck. 

–

It’s only a couple months later, but it feels like little eternities every time they are apart. Yes, it hurts to miss something, someone, you don’t think you can have anymore, but it hurts even more to know that they’re out there, waiting for you. 

Still, there are cases to work, paths to cross, games of tag to play across rooftops. Steph and Cass can still work well together. They spend time together at night when Cass isn’t busy working for Barbara and Steph isn’t busy with school. To put it another way, they don’t get to see each other very often. 

Steph has been avoiding Barbara, too afraid to face her wrath. Really, she’s been avoiding most of the Bats, except for Tim. And Cass, of course. They were both so ready to forgive her, in a way that she imagines would be hard for the others. 

Cass, who has always been slightly distant, becomes even more so. Bruce is dead, Steph has picked up that much. It’s not like it’s a secret.

It’s raining that night, but Steph won’t even remember that. All she remembers in the lead-up is a cryptic text from Cass, an address and a time. Steph arrives five minutes early.

When Cass arrives, she seems closed off, like she’s shutting down. Her movements seem stiff where they would usually be smooth, relaxed, around Steph. And, as a master of body language, she’s gotten pretty good at masking her own. Steph instantly knows something is deeply wrong. 

The conversation isn’t long, and there isn’t a lot Steph can even say. Cass has made up her mind. 

After she’s shoved the Batgirl costume into Steph’s hands, she turns around to, presumably, disappear. The rain is tapering off, and Steph wipes it from her face onto her sleeve.

Steph drops the costume to the rooftop and steps close behind Cass. She freezes and Steph comes around to face her, gripping her shoulders. 

“Listen to me,” Steph says. “You don’t have to do this. You could stay.” Stay with me, are the words between the lines.

“I don’t want to.” Cass avoids Steph’s eyes, staring at her shoes.

“I didn’t want to either, but… This life, this craziness, it isn’t so easy to shake off. It will follow you.” Steph makes promises easily, she speaks so easily. But this has weight.

Cass’ head dips at the mention of Steph’s death. Her brow wrinkles.

“Let go of me,” she says without malice. Steph doesn’t. Cass, trained assassin, trained fighter, doesn’t make any move.

“I can’t let you leave,” Steph admits. “Not after I came back with no one to go to. Not after you were there for me, accepted me.”

Steph feels her breath become shaky. Her body feels cold, distant, her entire attention focused on the moment, on Cass’ pained expression. “You’re my best friend,” she says. 

“You’re mine, too.”

Rarely the initiator, Cass pulls Steph into a tight hug. “I think I need you.”

“I think I need you, too.”

Cass sighs, heavy. Her posture slumps. Water tracks down her face. “I have to leave, Stephanie. Nothing makes sense anymore. I have to figure out why.”

“Please don’t leave,” Steph all but begs. “You can stay here. Figure things out here.”

“I can’t.”

“Then…” Steph struggles to find the right words. There’s too much severity in Cass’ voice. Too much finality. It can’t just end like this. A crazy thought occurs to her. “You’ve still never been kissed, right?”

“Well…” 

“Whatever,” Steph cuts her off. “Just kiss me. Now. And remember that I’m here, waiting for you. Please.”

Cass doesn’t say anything, face screwed up in sadness. Finally, she meets Steph’s eyes. There’s a plea there, one that Steph will think about for the rest of her life. Cass wants Steph to understand, but Steph doesn’t know if she can. Not after she’s gone and come back and nothing has really changed.

Cass wants it all to change. Maybe things have changed. Steph can’t accept it.

She also wants understanding. She wants Cass to understand why she came back, why she was always coming back, why she couldn’t stay away.

Steph forced things to change. They didn’t. Cass doesn’t want to accept it.

Still, Cass leans gently forward, and kisses Steph. It’s soft at first, just a brush of lips. Steph pushes into it and then it’s full and everything and the best kiss she’s ever had. Warmth spreads across her face, her chest, and soon it’s all she can feel. Cass’s hand slides up the back of Steph’s head, pushing through her hair, pushing them closer together. 

Finally, they come up for air. Steph wants to stay in this moment forever.

“I love you,” Steph blurts. 

“I love you too.” Cass smiles, bittersweet. “Thank you. For waiting for me. I’ll be back soon.”

Steph reaches up to feel her face, confirming the blush that’s there. 

She’s the one who turns away first, walking past Cass to where she’s abandoned the costume. Even though it’s ripped, fabric worn, Steph can imagine herself in it. She can picture herself honoring the legacy Cass has left her. When she turns around, after a while, Cass is gone.

She’ll be back, Steph thinks. I just have to hold down the fort until then. 

The memory of the kiss stays on her skin. 

[artaemisia]

added muse: cassiopeia ii

[slams new profile down]

i made cass back in 2016? i think. she went on ice for a while, but i've really been missing my phoenixes and their lore, so i decided to revive her / revamp the lore.

tl;dr - there are five different types of phoenixes: fire, water, air, earth, and spirit. each type has subtypes. spirit phoenixes are the head honchos of the phoenix world. to ensure balance and that no phoenix becomes too overpowered, each phoenix has a 'shadow' who is constantly 'chasing' them to reset their immortality / power level ("kill" them) in order to cause them to be reborn into a new vessel.

fire / water are opposites, so they are each other's shadows. same goes for air / earth. spirit phoenixes are without shadows by design; however, if a phoenix of each type comes together, they can overpower and 'kill' a spirit phoenix - which is how cassiopeia the first was assassinated.

phoenixes are 'born' in opposing pairs (one's shadow) across the world due to mysterious magics hailing from the aerie, which is a place above the earth where spirit phoenixes live and run the phoenix world. it is said that an abundance of spirit magic interacting with fire, water, air, or earth magic beneath the aerie is what causing the spontaneous birth of a phoenix, though this has never been confirmed.

[art cred: elaist (1st image), emmon (2nd image)]

anyway! here's cass. she is brand new and very sheltered, since she's been kept locked in the aerie since she was reborn. sunshine embodied, she just wants to explore and learn earth-side things.

also, when she touches you, because she hasn't learned to control her magic yet, you will feel a rush of her emotions, and she can feel yours. spoiler alert: she is always a '10' on excitement.

would anyone like to plot with her?!

[only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are]

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#5

Capture - Operation Valkyrie (Part 1)

MASTERLIST

I'm back! I finally feel ready to post this, so here you go. Enjoy, and I hope I've put enough work into it so that I can really be proud of myself. Let me know what you think, feedback is greatly appreciated!

And I know that there's no lab whump in this, but this series will be full of it, I promise - I just gotta set the scene first 👀

CWs: female whumpee, kidnapping, violence, knives, guns, mild descriptions of torture, IV drip and needles, medical environment, noncon drugging/sedation

~~~

Valkyrie Lewis laughed as she strode down the sidewalk, her long, blond, partially braided hair flying out behind her. She clutched her phone closer to her ear, letting her friend’s joke echo in her mind. 

“My Gods, Cass, you’re hilarious!” she sputtered. 

“Says you!” chuckled Cass through the phone. “Val, I can hardly listen to you talk for two minutes before bursting into laughter, honestly. I can talk to you for hours. Actually, I have, tonight!”

“Oh shoot, speaking of, I better go. It’s getting late and I’ve still got a bit to go before I reach my place. Sorry.” Valkyrie told her friend.

“No worries! I’ll talk to you later. Say hi to Lacey and Jasmine for me. Buh-bye. Love you!” Cass exclaimed.

“I will. Bye, love you too!” Valkyrie smiled as she hung up the phone.

:readmore

Her friend Cass was one of the sweetest people she knew, and she and the other young woman had a tendency to get too carried away with a conversation, to the point where they whiled away hours while talking. Valkyrie thoroughly enjoyed spending time with Cass, however, it was now dark and late on the streets of the small American town that the British woman lived in. 

Valkyrie had been so absorbed in the phone conversation with her friend that she hadn’t heard the sound of a second pair of footsteps that had joined her own. As she noticed the sounds, she was suddenly hit with the overwhelming feeling that something was wrong. She swallowed hard, but continued on her way, showing no change in her behaviour. She abruptly stopped on the path. The footsteps stopped a split-second later. She started walking again, only to find that the sounds of the footsteps had started up again. Her blood curdled. Valkyrie turned a corner without warning. The other person was still behind her. Now, her fears were confirmed. She was being followed.

Valkyrie picked up the pace, speeding ahead. She had to shake this person, and she had no idea how. Eventually, she came across an alleyway. She darted down the dark street, hoping that her pursuer would lose her in the darkness. She raced down the alley, only to stop short as she was faced with a brick wall. It was a dead end. She spun around, panic rising in her throat, only to come face to face with a stranger clad in a black hoodie. She couldn’t see the person's face. 

“Uh- e-e-e-xcuse me, I-” she stammered.

Her pursuer interrupted her with a deep growl. They pulled a large bat from behind them and brought it swinging down on Valkyrie’s head. The last thing she saw was the ferocious, hungry glint in the stranger’s eyes before the world went black. 

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

When Valkyrie blinked back into consciousness, she was sitting on an uncomfortable wooden chair, her arms tied behind her back with rope. Fear filled her veins as she tried to remember how she had ended up in this situation. Just as her memories began flooding back to her, a figure stepped into her vision. It was the same figure that had faced her in the alleyway.

“Who are you? Let me go!” She cried out.

“Shut up!” The kidnapper growled. “You’re not going anywhere.” The figure slowly circled the chair Valkyrie was tied to, reminding her of a predator inspecting its prey. “You, my friend, are going to stay right here and entertain me.”’

Valkyrie gasped. “No, you can’t! I- I can’t stay, please, you have to let me g-”

A heavy force slammed into Val’s face, interrupting her. As the figure pulled their hand back, she realised she had been punched. The impact left her stunned, and her left cheek stinging. Before she could react, she was punched again, this time in the stomach. She gasped, and doubled over as best as she could, being tied to a chair. 

Valkyrie groaned. “Let.. me.. Go!!”

The attacks continued, blows raining down all over her body as she sat, useless, unable to defend herself. Just when she thought she could deal with this no longer, as her vision began to blur, her tormenter drew a dagger from their pocket. The figure loomed in her face with the blade. As they twirled it closer and closer, the light glinted off the dagger in a threatening fashion. Valkyrie whimpered, despite herself. Her heart was beating out of her chest. Then, the attacker struck. The knife carved a long, deep slash down her chin, followed by a series of smaller cuts and slashes across her face. Just as they brought the knife close to her right eye, a voice could be heard.

"Stop right there!” 

Before her kidnapper could spin around, a loud bang reverberated through the room. Valkyrie closed her eyes instinctively. When she tentatively opened them a moment later, the person who had been torturing her just a minute ago was lying on the floor in a bloody heap. She glanced up to see a team of people clad in heavy black tactical gear. She was saved. They swarmed around her like flies, surrounding her. They quickly freed her from her bonds, then she was lifted onto a gurney. Medics enveloped her, strapping her down and wheeling her out the door of the dingy room. They emerged in a loading dock where a large, unmarked black van was waiting. The tactical officers swung open the back doors and slid Valkyrie, gurney and all, up into the van. The medics followed her into the van, where a plethora of medical equipment was waiting. One medic, a kind-looking woman with a long black plait and a warm smile, was busying herself setting up an IV kit. Just then, the doors slammed shut behind them.

“What are you doing? Where are you taking me?” Valkyrie murmured, dazed. 

“Don’t you worry about that, love. Now, you’re just going to feel a little pinch.” The medic assured in a sing-song voice. 

See the full post

47 notes - Posted April 14, 2022

#4

Operation Valkyrie Masterlist

We at Human Pet Providers (HPP) provide our customers with the highest quality pets for entertainment, romantic or platonic companionship, and domestic services. In order to continue to provide the highest quality, best-trained and easily punishable pets for your enjoyment, we have established the National Pet Research Organisation (NPRO). The NPRO labratory investigates the best training methods and devices for both the use of our trainers at HPP, and use in your home for the more rebellious pets.

Valkyrie Lewis' life is turned upside-down when she is kidnapped and brought to a laboratory to be experimented on.

Note: this is a BBU-adjacent style whump fic featuring lab whump as part of the main storyline.

~~~

Part 1 - Capture

Part 2 - Welcome to the Lab

Part 3 - Losing Control

Part 4 - Touch Starved

Part 5 - Vivisection

~~~

Taglist (just asked to be added/removed):

@whumppsychology @inky-whump @whumpnoire

50 notes - Posted May 7, 2022

#3

Aflame - Subject 17 (Part 6)

Masterlist here

At long last, it's here! I'm so happy to be back to posting in the new year and I'm looking forward to putting more work into my confidence in my writing skills. Enjoy!

CWs: Lab whump, human experimentation, noncon drugging, restraints, needles, medical setting, hospital equipment

~~~

After several days of recovering from the experiment alongside Bree, Flynn found himself hearing footsteps headed towards his cell door once more. Flynn tensed, his eyes darting to the hallway. Hugo walked into Flynn’s field of view, dressed in his usual white orderly-type scrubs. The young man cleared his throat before stepping up to the door, which he unlocked using the key from his pocket. Hugo then entered the cell, and gestured for Flynn to follow him. Now is my chance. I could run.. Flynn thought. But within a split second he had reminded himself how useless that would be. While Hugo was probably not nearly as strong as his superior, nor was he likely to tell Doctor Barrick of Flynn’s disobedience for Flynn to be punished, it was likely that the Doctor would find out anyway. Not to mention, maybe Hugo did not look incredibly strong, but Flynn had been imprisoned and experimented on for what had to have been at least severely weeks, if not months already, with no exercise and little food or water. There was no way he would be able to fight off anyone who tried to stop him, nor run far enough and fast enough to escape. It would be completely and utterly futile. Flynn sighed internally, and followed Hugo out of the cell. 

The walk was a silent one, and Flynn's mind was left to spiral out of control as he speculated about what Doctor Barrick had in store for him this time. By the time they reached the laboratory door, panic was quickly setting into Flynn's bones. He couldn't keep doing this any longer, he was getting too weak, and he was being pushed to a breaking point. It was only a matter of time before he came out of those very same doors in a body bag. 

He swallowed down his fear as Hugo led him inside. Inside, the lab was organised and clearly ready to be used. Hugo steered Flynn over to the metal table in the centre. Flynn swallowed thickly and lay down on the table, wincing as the bare skin on his arms and legs touched the cold surface. A moment later, the door of the lab swung open once again, and in walked Doctor Barrick, wearing his white lab coat. 

“Hello Subject 17.” He turned to Hugo. “Strap him down.”

Flynn felt his blood run cold as Hugo snapped on a pair of nitrile gloves, then grabbed the padded restraints from beside the table. He swiftly wound them around Flynn’s body, strapping him down at his calves, thighs, chest, across his shoulders and his forehead. The insides of his elbows faced the ceiling. 

“Excellent.” Doctor Barrick thanked his assistant. 

While Doctor Barrick prepared the camera and the live-streaming equipment, Hugo prepared the medical equipment, pulling out a rubber tourniquet, prep pads, a syringe and a vial filled with liquid. Flynn was certain that the colour was draining from his face upon seeing these items. He was distracted momentarily as Doctor Barrick took a step back, and announced his presence to his audience.

“Welcome back. Today I will be testing a new serum I have concocted. I’m not sure what the effect will be, as I discovered it rather by accident... But we shall find out, together.” 

The menacing smile that crept across Doctor Barrick’s face, reflected to Flynn via the computer screen, was enough to make a chill creep through Flynn’s bones. Doctor Barrick returned to the side of metal table, snapping on his own pair of gloves, and proceeded to tie the rubber tourniquet around Flynn’s upper arm, just above the inner elbow. He prodded the skin, making sure he had easy access to the vein, then took out a prep pad and wiped the cold alcohol swab over the area. Then, he unpackaged the syringe, and inserted the needle straight into the vial of liquid, drawing the plunger until he had the right amount, before he placed the vial back down. 

“I’m going to inject the serum into Subject 17’s vein now, and we will be able to observe the results.” Doctor Barrick announced. 

The scientist lined the syringe up with Flynn’s vein, then slowly and carefully pushed the needle in. Flynn held back a small whimper upon feeling the sharp pinch as it pierced his skin. He watched in growing apprehension as Doctor Barrick continued pushing the needle in further, until it reached the vein, and then his gloved fingers pushed down the plunger, releasing the serum into Flynn’s vein. Once the entire contents of the syringe had been emptied into Flynn, Doctor Barrick drew the syringe back out, removed the tourniquet, and covered the area with a small band-aid. Flynn could already feel the cold seeping into his veins and spreading through his limbs. 

Doctor Barrick turned his attention back to the camera.  “Now, we wait, and observe.”

Flynn felt that previous cold feeling slowly change, warmth now sweeping across his body. At first, it was pleasant, and a small smile of relief crept across his face. That was until he was too warm, so warm that he began to feel fire creeping through his veins. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and he could feel droplets forming under his arms. Doctor Barrick leaned into his face, examining Flynn closely from behind his glasses. Suddenly, Flynn was seeing two of Doctor Barrick.

“Hngh..” Flynn murmured, trying to reach for the double Barricks to swat at them, before realising that he was still strapped securely to the metal exam table. 

Suddenly, a blinding white light pierced his vision. He groaned, blinking to shield his eyes, but a gloved hand pried them back open one at a time, the light growing brighter each time. He could hear voices muttering around him, but he wasn’t sure what they were saying. God, couldn’t they be quiet for one second? His head was pounding, and the heat was still growing. It was now unbearable. It was burning hot, and he thought he might need to throw up, but his vision was too blurry and murky for him to see his restraints to try to undo them. Despite the heat, he shivered, twitching involuntarily against the straps which held him down. Let me go, let me go! He tried to scream, but he couldn’t hear to know if he had even spoken the words aloud. Too loud, too loud, let me go, it’s too loud let me- Another sharp prick in his arm interrupted his thoughts. Distantly, he thought it was incredibly rude of the pain to just interrupt his thought like that. But then he drowned in the darkness, and all was silent.

~~

Taglist:

@ziptiewhump @lazy8whump @blackrosesandwhump @paleassprincess @bumpthumpwhump @jancameforthewhump @jaxonjekkels @inky-whump @verydeaninside @whatiswhump @aseasonwithclara @crystalquartzwhump @onthishamsterwheel @myst-in-the-mirror @simplygrimly @wolfeyedwitch

51 notes - Posted February 2, 2022

#2

Needle Whump prompts

The quickening of Whumpee's breaths through their nose as Whumper brings out a syringe

Whumpee frantically stretches their arm towards the phone, but before they can call for help, Whumper steps down HARD on their arm. Bonus points if Whumper breaks or fractures Whumpee's hand in the process.

Oxygen masks. IVs. Tubes. Whumpee waking up to being in them and ripping out the tubes and IV, and yanking off the oxygen mask. Bonus points if the heart monitor beeps louder and faster - until Whumpee rips the electrodes off their chest, and the machine goes silent

Hero is kidnapped by Villain. Hero expects to be viciously tortured, but instead, Villain becomes Caretaker, gently treating Hero's wounds from all of their missions that had been left un-cared for.

Caretaker screaming and reaching for Whumpee. who is also screaming, too frightened to be seperated from Caretaker, but doctors are swarming Caretaker and forcing them away. Bonus points if Caretaker is so agitated by the thought of leaving Whumpee even for a minute, that they have to be sedated.

67 notes - Posted December 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Sedation Whump Drabble

CWs: sedation, 'for your own good' trope, medical whump, needle tw

“Whumpee, stop. I’m here to help you.” Medic held Whumpee to their chest, holding them in place.

“I’me fine, okay? Just let me go!” Whumpee yelled, yanking their fists free to thump them against Medic in a desperate attempt to free themself. “You have.. to.. please.. I have to protect them!” The last sentence came in a frightened whimper.

Whumpee was too upset to notice Medic’s frantic silent communication with Team Mate over Whumpee’s shoulder. ‘The bedside. Top drawer. Hurry.’ Medic mouthed.

Team Mate rushed to the bedside table and pulled the syringe from the top drawer. They stood behind Whumpee, waiting for Medic’s signal. Medic nodded, and Team Mate removed the cap and thrust the needle into Whumpee’s shoulder muscle. 

“NOOO!” Whumpee screamed, digging their nails into Medic’s arms as their back arched in pain.

Team mate dropped the syringe and helped Medic lower Whumpee to the ground, whose muscles twitched as they struggled to stay conscious. 

“Sh, sh, Whumpee. It’s okay. Just rest now, okay?” Medic murmured, smoothing down Whumpee’s hair. “You’re alright.”

“Please.. I-” Whumpee’s movements were too sluggish, too uncoordinated, but they tried to pull themself off the ground. “Mmph…” Their hand fell to their side, and their eyes rolled back in their head as they slipped into unconsciousness.

Team mate stared at Whumpee. “Now what?”

“Help me, let’s put them to bed.” 

Medic grunted as the two lifted Whumpee’s limp, weak body and placed it on the bed in the middle of the room. They looked so small and frail in the large plush bed, swamped in pillows. Team Mate lingered there, staring at their friend.

“Go on. You have to go do your job. They’ll be here when you get back. I’ll take care of them for you, I promise.” Medic ushered Team Mate to the door.

“Yeah, you’re.. You’re right.” Team Mate took once last glance over their shoulder at Whumpee, and then turned on their heel, leaving their injured friend behind.

Tags:

@aseasonwithclara @bumpthumpwhump @inky-whump @ziptiesnfries @jancameforthewhump @blackrosesandwhump @whumpwillow @whatiswhump @whump-a-la-mode @hurting-fictional-people @equestrianwritingsstuff @clockworkwhump @wolfeyedwitch

246 notes - Posted July 5, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[thearchivistsjournal]

Day 278,

Morning thought: I find it more amusing than I ought to that despite there being a question as to whether or not Cass’s apprenticeship would continue, no one ever thought to take back her spare key to the library.  That said, since she just stopped by to check on me and my tendency to oversleep, I shouldn’t keep her waiting any longer.

Refreshingly like old times.

*******

Taking a breather away from the crowds for a while in an out of the way spot.

Seeing the tradition with the false “shades” from the perspective of a pedestrian was as fascinating as I’d hoped.  They really don’t look that much like real shades, but while I felt ridiculous when I was wearing the costume last time, seeing one shambling down a shadowed alleyway is surprisingly intimidating, even when you know it’s just a game of sorts.  Speaking of games, it made for an interesting challenge trying to avoid them on the way to a street where I knew stalls to be set up.  I’d forgotten to prepare any kind of offering to drop in their sacks so I needed to acquire something.  Cass offered me some of the candied fruit slices she was carrying around with her from her family’s stall, but I wanted to find something for myself.  

I succeeded at that, and spent the remainder of the morning split between a shift helping out at the family stall handing out dried produce to others in my situation (and some that just wanted to eat it themselves) and wandering the streets taking in the atmosphere.  I didn’t play games of tempting fate with the “shades” like some people seem to enjoy, but - again - it was neat to see from the other side of the costume.  I actually witnessed one person get caught and have the costume and sack transferred to him, much to the amusement of his peers.  It was as awkward a scene as one might expect, with the former “shade” trying to lift the layers up to engulf the “victim” and then slip out from under the pile of cloth themselves.  More than a few black sheets went fluttering to the ground in the process, which everyone nearby helped gather up and re-apply.

As noon approached, Cass and I joined back up with her family and started making our way toward the market forum, along with everyone else in the Village.  And then as noon arrived, well, as magically surreal as the shadowless effect was while gazing through a thin layer of black cloth, it was even moreso when seen with the naked eye.  It occurred to me that a number of the decorations set up around the Village were probably there specifically to give more examples of the phenomenon to see.

And then the frenzied procession of the “shades” rushing into the square, stripping their shadowy layers as they went.  I find myself thinking of black comets or perhaps balls of fire, burning of their very being as they converge from all directions onto a single point.  You almost don’t notice the individuals revealed underneath, so distracted are you by all the other “shades” and fluttering veils until it all settles and it suddenly clicks that there are people there.  People who had once been lost to us, if only for a morning, now returned.  And then the music starts up and the returned ones begin to dance, untrained but exuberant, initially uncoordinated but soon falling into a rhythm with those they shared an experience with.  One and all we revel, and those who once walked in darkness spread the bounty they obtained there.  Heroes descending into the abyss and returning with the elixir.

Or perhaps I project too much of my own cultural mimesis onto the rituals of those I now live amongst.

To my surprise, Vernon was amongst the ex “shades”.  Over lunch, he would neither confirm nor deny any accusations that he had been trying to pawn the duty off to someone else when he asked me yesterday if I wanted to be a “shade” again.  That said, I think I will take up that offer again next equinox.  The costume is hot and uncomfortable, but that memory of being amongst the dancers is one of my fondest since I washed up here.

In a pleasant surprise, being on “shade” duty meant that Vernon got out of most of his mediator duties for today and was able to join me and Cass walking about and partaking in the afternoon’s festivities.  It was much as it was last equinox.  The food, the music, the games.  I paid a little more attention to the games and contests this time around, knowing that I’d need to make official records of at least some of them tomorrow.

And then we approach the present.  As I mentioned, the crowds were starting to get to me and I needed a bit of time alone.  Vernon and Cass understand how it is for me sometimes by now and they were gracious about giving me the space.  I told them that I’d catch back up with them this evening before those ceremonies start.  Until then, I think I’m going to wander around on my own a bit more.  I find that it’s two unique experiences, being alone or with others during an event or at a place.  Both are worth having.

*******

It’ll be my turn to go up soon.  I feel nervous.  Heart racing.  Shaking all over.  But it’s not like last time.  It’s only been half a year, but I like to think I’ve grown since then.  I can do this.

I can do this.

*******

Back in the archive for the night.  That was… better than last time.  Not great, but better.  Spent most of the night after that with Vernon and his friends.  Part of the evening’s ceremonies had involved promoting him to full mediator status, so they were all celebrating that together.  It was slightly harder celebrating than is my usual, on top of still not being fully used to the rest of his friends, so I largely sat on the sidelines of the group.  Eventually I think Vernon noticed I was sliding into the background like I tend to do and the two of us split off to do our own thing for a while.  

He’s good like that.

He even offered to spend the night at the library or for me to come back to his place.  I appreciated the concern, and thanked him for the offer, but politely declined.  For once, I really was alright.  And I let him know that he’s been a part of that.

That said, now that I’m alone in my alcove, I find my mind turning to the friends who weren’t here today.  Checking with the bracelet, I can tell that Lin’s on her way back with Priscila’s island.  If only that island’s schedule had been a day sooner or the equinox a day later.  Although given that I still can’t sense Maiko, I doubt Lin would have been in a festive mood.  Truth be told, I worry about her even more than I do Maiko right now.  I can’t really even fathom what she’s dealing with emotionally and mentally right now.  I worry that I won’t be any help or comfort to her when she gets back.

Speaking of Maiko, I know it’s silly, but some part of me spent the day half-expecting her to show up.  As a face in the crowd.  Revealed under the veils of the “shades”.  Formally introduced by Pat during the evening ceremony.  Hanging back in the shadows behind the crowd as I finished my telling.  Waiting in the door of the library when Vernon and I got back.

She never did, of course.  I don’t blame her either.  I shouldn’t be disappointed.

Life’s not that kind of story.

<==Previous          Next==>

[theladyofdeath]

For fluffy bat boy prompts- how about a flying lesson with Nyx?

Thank you for your prompt! Enjoy. :)

Ship/Pairing: Rhys, Cassian, Azriel, Nyx

Setting: Somewhere in the mountains north of Velaris, canon

Warnings: so much fluff.

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

The three strongest, most powerful Illyrians to have ever lived stood with their toes against the cliff with their arms crossed.

Nyx stood a good ten feet back.

"It's not that high," Cassian said, keeping his voice light.

"It's pretty high," Azriel muttered.

"It is not."

"If you were only four feet tall, you'd think it was pretty high, too."

The two of them went back and forth. Rhysand just shook his head as he turned to face his son.

At only seven, Nyx had been using his wings for a while, fluttering off the ground, but he never went very high. He was strong enough, though, Rhysand knew it, to start facing at least a little bit of height.

"Looking a little pale, kid," Rhysand said, keeping his voice quiet. Azriel and Cassian were still arguing when Rhysand knelt down to meet Nyx's eye.

"I'm fine," Nyx replied, although it lacked confidence.

"You're not any better at lying than your mother," Rhysand said, with a little smile.

Nyx looked away, breaking that eye contact, and looked out over the horizon. It was pretty early in the morning yet, but the skies were clear. It was even fairly warm for winter, which made it perfect flying weather.

Especially for one who was just learning to fly.

"It's pretty high," Nyx said, at last. "It's a long fall."

"You won't fall," Rhysand said, his voice firm, then smiled. "You're an Illyrian. That's what the wings are for."

Nyx rolled his eyes. "You don't know that. What if I do fall?"

"You won't."

"But what if I do?"

Rhysand knew he wasn't going to let it go. He remembered his first time flying, remembered the terror. The difference between his experience and his son's, though, was the fact that Rhysand was alone. There were other people there, sure, but none that would have caught him if he choked. Rhysand's father wasn't exactly known as the most protective, most comforting of fathers.

"If you fall," Rhysand began, "then you have me, Uncle Az, and Uncle Cass. We won't let you fall. We won't ever let you get hurt."

Nyx met Rhysand's eyes and nodded, once, before swallowing. Rhysand stood, Nyx took his hand, and they walked to the edge together.

Where Azriel and Cassian's argument about the height had turned into an argument about which one of them would make it to the other side of the valley first.

"We all know I'm fastest," Cassian said. "That's why I command the-."

"I can literally travel through shadows," Azriel said, deadpan.

"Which is known as cheating when it comes to a race," Cassian countered. "Prick."

Azriel grinned.

"Alright, you two, break it up," Rhysand said, announcing their presence.

Both Azriel and Cassian looked at Nyx as he approached the ledge, their demeanor completely changing. They too remembered what it was like, that first time, the nerves that came along with it. Their experience hadn't been any better than Rhysand's, and they had come along to make Nyx's experience one to remember.

"If I fall-."

"We'll catch you," Rhysand promised, his voice soft.

"As soon as you jump, we're jumping, too," Cassian confirmed.

"We'll be right beside you," Azriel added.

Nyx nodded and took a deep breath.

He closed his eyes.

He dropped Rhysand's hand.

"Here we go," he said, the others remaining silent.

Nyx took his sweet time, but nobody rushed him. The three Illyrians stood in complete silence as Nyx mustered enough courage to take that final step.

A moment later, without another thought, Nyx took those last few steps as a running start and leapt off the side of the cliff.

Just as they said they would, the other three were in the air, instantly on alert.

But there was no need.

Nyx didn't fall. Instead, his wings took him up into the sky. Cassian and Azriel began cheering and when they looked over at Rhysand, he was watching his son with tears in his eyes.

Pure pride had completely consumed him.

Nyx's laughter filled the air and it was he who challenged Cassian to that race, with absolutely no fear at all.

[icerosecrystal]

The Love We Give To You

Mominette Month 2021

Day 02: Signs of Affection

Masterlist

Author's Note: Hey everyone! Day 2 was a lot of fun to write! I hope you guys enjoy it! Also, to make sure that no one is confused, I wanted to let you all know that this is not a continuation of Day 1.

It has been three months since Marinette married Bruce and became a part of the Wayne family. Bruce's and Marinette's had a great relationship. Bruce showed affection through cuddles and kisses. Not that he would ever admit to doing it. Alfred and Marinette had bonded over their love of baking, cooking, and mother-henning the children. They showed their affection when they offered to help each other. Whether it be with work in the kitchen or little hobbies. All of the children loved Marinette and showed their affection for her in various ways.

Dick loved hugs. The moment he spotted Mari in the room, he would bound over to her, a smile on his face, and squeeze the life out of her. She would always let out one of her tinkling laughs in response before returning the enthusiastic hug.

Tim liked to give her hugs and kiss her cheek in greeting. But for him, it was more his actions than anything. He would get her a cup of coffee and then babble to her about really anything. In turn, Marinette would patiently listen, adding her input when necessary.

For Jason, he didn't appreciate physical affection as much as his other siblings, but he still would allow some of it, but only ever from Mari. Jason would show his appreciation for Mari every time he helped her out with whatever she was doing. He would sometimes talk about he was feeling also. But his favorite part would be when Mari would indulge in his thrill-seeking activities with him. He loved that she didn't try to change anything about him, and he always did the same for her. He even tried to make a leather jacket with her help.

Cass liked connecting with people on a soulful level. So she would usually sit by Mari when she was designing something and meditate or even only watch her work. They would also meditate together at times. Due to Cass being born into the League of Shadows, she found a lot of physical affection to be strange. But she sometimes did hug Mari.

Stephanie was as enthusiastic with her affection as Dick was. She would bounce over and hug Mari every time she entered the room. She would also constantly cling to Mari and would urge her to make waffles with her.

All of Mari's new children showed her different signs of affection except for Damian. She didn't think that Damian should be as blatant with his love for her, but she wanted even the slightest bit of confirmation that he loved her.

A Week Later

Damian flopped down onto his bed in misery. He had just witnessed another hug session between Dick and Mari. Damian wanted that same love, but he was confused about what to do. He felt like he was betraying his birth mother by trying to show Mari love, even if Talia wasn't the best mother ever. Besides, why would Mari even want a former assassin child as her kid? She's probably happy with the rest of them. At least they were somewhat ordinary. Even Cass, the only other one that had only ever been an assassin, was a lot more passive than him.

He continued to mope about his problems before he suddenly had an epiphany! What if he tested her? He needed to make sure that she was worth loving. And so, the next day, when everyone but Marinette, Alfred, and himself was out of the house, he went to the Batcave. He then started sparring against some dummies. He was hoping that Mari would attempt to bond with him and offer to spar with him. And sure enough, after a few minutes of sparring on his own, a melodic voice behind him called, "Damian? Why are you sparring on your own?"

Damian, in turn, replied, "I had nothing better to do. Would you like to join me? I could teach you."

He watched as her face lit up with unspoken happiness before she stepped onto the mat. They both positioned themselves into a starting position for the spar. He then counted them down, "Three, two, one, go!"

He had barely uttered the words before Mari ducked down low, whipped her leg out, and swung it towards him, hooking the back of his ankle with her foot. The action resulted in him falling to the floor. He quickly jumped up and kicked her leg from behind, causing her to hit the ground. Before he could tackle her, she rolled on the ground and jumped up, punching him as she went. He quickly recovered from the hit and followed with his own, which she caught and flipped him over, putting him back on the floor once more. Before he even got the chance to try and get up, she clambered over him, putting him into an armbar hold. And with that, Mari had officially won the spar.

Damian stared at her in awe as she climbed off him, beaming in excitement. Mistaking his silence and awe for embarrassment and hostility, Marinette frantically tried to make him feel better, "I am so sorry, Damian! I didn't mean to be so aggressive! I know that you wanted to teach me, but I already knew how to fight! But I thought that I would pretend that I didn't! But you were giving me a challenge, and I accidentally started treating it as a real fight! You are an amazing fighter! I am so, so sorry–"

Before she could continue with her spiel, Damian interrupted her with a whisper, "You're awesome." Realizing what he said, he ducked his head, attempting to hide the blush that had made its way onto his cheeks. He quickly gave Mari a tight-lipped smile before running to his room, ignoring Alfred's questioning gaze. He had to think. Right now!

He quickly slammed the door and leaned his head against it. Okay. Things that he had learned today. Number one, Mari knew how to fight. Number two, She knew how to fight very well. Number three, Marinette was awesome. Number four, she was much better than his mother could ever hope to be. And number five, he wanted Mari to be his mom! And he knew how to do it.

Two Weeks Later

It had been two weeks since the spar between Mari and Damian, and much had changed since then. And everyone in the family knew it. But no one, except for Marinette and Damian, knew why.

The first thing that changed was Damian's attitude towards Marinette. Before, he would try his best to never be in the presence of his stepmother. But now, he didn't mind. Everyone could tell that he would try to delay his time spent with her. Not many people would realize it, but the Wayne family wasn't just everybody.

What changed next was how he responded to her words. Before, he would roll his eyes, ignore her, or huff. But now, he would still grumble, but it was always half-heartedly. And one time, they caught him smiling at Mari. The dramatic gasp that Dick let out didn't help anyone in figuring out what was going on.

Then he started doing little things, like pecking her cheek before he left for school. He would smile at her, give her a tiny compliment, paint while she designed. They were such small actions, but every time Damian did them, Marinette's heart swelled with happiness. She was in disbelief that Damian was showing his love for her! Yes, he wasn't as blatant about it as his siblings, but he still did it, and that made her all the happier.

But the day that things finally changed completely was when Damian Al-Ghul Wayne walked up to Marinette Dupain-Cheng and cuddled her. It was an ordinary Saturday. Everyone was up early except for Damian. But then Damian came in yawning and looked around. He saw Mari sitting on the couch stitching something. Damian trudged over to her and sat down next to her. He put his legs up on the couch and buried his face into her chest. Marinette smiled gently at his actions and put down her sewing things before putting her arms around him. She then started stroking his hair, and as if he was part cat, he preened at the attention and pressed his head to her hand in want of more strokes. Damian then mumbled, almost incoherently, "I love you, Ummi. You're amazing."

Marinette stopped stroking his hair in shock, and Damian looked to her worriedly, thinking that she was mad with his declaration. But instead, her face broke into a huge smile, and she hugged him tightly, breathing out, "I love you too, Dami."

All while this was happening, the rest of the Wayne family looked at the pair in awe. Finally, Jason spoke, breaking everyone out of their stares, "When did this happen?! And what did happen?!"

Damian looked over at Jason with a scowl and said, "I found out two weeks ago that Ummi is amazing. She beat me in a spar. Now, she's my Ummi, and none of you imbeciles can take her away from me!"

Everyone except the pair continued to be bewildered over the situation. That was when Dick spoke up, "Ummi?"

Damian looked ready to murderer them for not allowing him to cuddle with his Ummi, but all the same, he replied, "I heard a lot of children call their mothers 'Ummi' in the league, or at least in private. But Mother never permitted me to do the same, alone or in public. She said that I was the heir of the league and should, therefore, be as nonsensical as possible. But now that I have Mari, I finally have someone to call Ummi."

By the end of his speech, Marinette looked to be close to tears, and everyone else was looking at him in surprise. Marinette started clinging onto him, whispering, "I love you so much, mon cheri. I'll always be there for you."

Damian blinked back tears and clung back, saying, "I know you will. I am your favorite anyways." When Damian saw his siblings realize what he said, he jumped off his Ummi's lap and ran out of the room. Behind him, a herd of footsteps was heard, along with shouting from each of the children (except Cass). Each of them trying to convince him as to why he was wrong and why they were the favorite.

Back in the living room, Alfred had left to give Marinette and Bruce some alone time. Marinette beckoned Bruce over to sit beside her. She pecked his mouth before seeing the adoring stare. She raised an eyebrow and asked, "And what is it that you are staring at?"

Bruce pulled her closer, inhaling her jasmine scent, and mumbled, "Oh, nothing. Just looking at my beautiful wife that I can't believe I managed to marry."

Marinette flushed a deep red before punching his arm, "Sap."

"Your sap," he retorted back.

"Yes, my sap," she whispered before giving him a deep kiss.

As Bruce pulled away from her, he mumbled against her lips, "Besides, we all know I'm your favorite."

Marinette smirked before saying, "Oh, I don't know. Your son seems to be just as charismatic as you."

"Exactly–," Bruce started saying before he realized what she said. "Hey! Come back here you!" Marinette giggled as he chased after her trying to tickle her.

The rest of the family came into the room, trying to find the cause of the noise. But they stopped at the scene of their parents laughing together on the ground. Dick then yelled, "Cuddle time," and jumped onto his parents, the rest of the kids, even Alfred joining.

As they all laughed together, Marinette looked at every member of her new family. They were all so different, and that was what made them unique. Even their signs of affection were unique to themselves. But at the end of the day, she knew that they loved her and that she loved them. And that was all that mattered.

2011 words

Day 2 is done! And on time! I wonder how long that'll last!

~ ❄ Crystal ❄

@mominettemonth

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