#Column Level Masking

[rajaniesh]

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[viperwhispered]

Notes on Jamil's speech patterns

I was supposed to just pick out some examples of typical Jamil lines. How he speaks, the vocabulary he uses, things like that. Something I could easily refer to when writing to get the tone right.

But then it kinda blew up, oop – because it’s hard to talk about how a character speaks without also dipping into why they say whatever they say.

Plus then I wanted to get examples of Jamil in different moods, and could not resist some poignant things that were more related to his character or backstory rather than strictly the speech patterns themselves, so… It expanded a bit.

Anyways. Some things I noticed he tends to do:

Sighs (more than I realized)

Snarks

Tch (though could be a more general twst writing choice too)

Stutters when he’s flustered / embarrassed / caught of guard (what a cutie)

Goes ahem like an old man when he’s trying to get back on track in those off-kilter moments

Kinda formal with his manner of speech and choice of words (especially in servant mode) (I always worry I exaggerate this but he sure does do that)

But there’s still some animatedness with the way he emphasises words, for example

(so long-suffering and ready to bark out directions to Kalim oh boy - the way the directness just comes through when he loses it)

sugarcoating his opinions if he doesn’t feel like he can say them plainly (tyrant becomes rigorous, etc.)

sarcasm, sometimes with a side of deadpan, sometimes with a smirk

“Good grief” (another thing I didn't realize was that much of a catchphrase)

Very mild on the level of insults & swears honestly, (I mean, "drat"?) but I imagine this is more of a result of the game's rating (I guess for in-game reasons we can say he's been very conditioned by his upbringing)

I put the screenshots that seemed telling, and some related notes, on to a google sheet. That way one can filter and order it in various ways.

The sheet is probably best viewed on a computer or another larger screen, the screenshots might make it a bit difficult to navigate on mobile.

I did go in with the assumption that Jamil might speak differently pre-overblot (when the servant mask is firmly in place) and post-overblot (at least those occasions where he allows himself to be more honest). Like, there’s the sycophantic (as Leona calls it) flatterer, versus when Jamil’s honestly voicing his own thoughts. Which also shows in how I chose to categorize the screenshots.

Of course events are a bit wibbly wobbly in relation to the main story so can’t be placed in the timeline in the same way, but there are still those occasions where it seems you can tell the difference between the servant mask and a Jamil who’s not saying things just for the sake of appearances.

So, to explain the logic of the sheet:

First column has a screenshot of something Jamil says. The second two columns give the source.

The column for whether or not this happened before or after the overblot is only really used for main story things, since event stories are kinda murky timeline-wise.

Next is whether Jamil seems to be putting on the servant mask or speaking more honestly. This is where get more to interpretation territory, and I’ve not applied it to every screenshot (either because that didn’t seem like the relevant part for that line, or because I couldn’t tell).

The last column of the sheet is where we get most to my personal interpretations. So of course you might read these lines differently than I do, and that’s completely fine, these are simply the aspects that seemed poignant to me. Some notes are simply pointing out specific word choices or style of speech, others delve more into character analysis side of things.

Totally fine if you want to copy this file or modify it to your own needs. All I ask is that you don’t pass off anything I wrote as your own thoughts.

Order of lines is based purely on the order the pics were in my screenshots folder, so guess this is also an insight on the order I played things in, lol.

Tagging some jamil peeps in case y'all find this useful:

@crystallizsch @diodellet @moonyasnow @twstgo @lex752

@majestickitty @viperbunnies

[kquil]

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS PRT.7

07 : APOLOGIES & COMFORT

CHPT. SUM. : sirius and remus are both very stubborn and need you to help them make amends, thankfully james is there

REQUEST. : could i request a hurt/comfort blurb with poly!marauders in the heroes in tattoos series where r is having really bad cramps and they comfort her- maybe when they're busy with clients and she doesn't want to disturb them but they notice? - requested by an anon (i had to make some tweaks, i hope you don't mind, my darling)

TAGS. : modern au, muggle au, tattoo artist!sirius black ; tattoo artist!james potter ; piercer!remus lupin ; hurt/comfort ; fluff ; mvp james ; james becomes a menace though so is he really the mvp? ; wolfstar fluff ; making up ; reader is also an mvp ; accidents happen ; period things~ ; remus is on the brink ; somebody save this man! ; no! somebody save reader from this man! ; assumes that reader does not take medication to regulate her periods ; assumes that reader wears sanitary pads for her periods

LENGTH : 4.3k

← PREV. : 06 | SELFISH DESIRES | SERIES M.LIST

“Sirius…” Remus sighs as he sits across from you and the man in question. 

“If you have a problem, I hope you know that I don’t care,” you feel the tattooist smirk against your temple as he presses another searing kiss into your skin. The tension from the room hasn’t fully dissipated yet, however, most of the fiction was swept aside leaving the air clear enough for a more civil conversation. 

With Sirius’ insistence, you were left no choice but to sit in his lap as Remus sits across from you. This left James to sit all on his lonesome, occupying the grandfather chair to your left as a warm smile reveals his asymmetrical dimple, directed solely at you. 

Remus groans in frustration and stands to his full height in order to pull his sleeveless sweater off. Sirius peppers light kisses along the column of your neck but it isn’t quite enough to distract you from the image of Remus undoing the top buttons of his button-up shirt nor the way he rolls up the sleeves to his elbows - a weak attempt at trying to cool down from the heat of the previous encounter. 

You’re tempted to look down once again but are too embarrassed to do so; the images that pervade your mind are too inappropriate and they taint the gentle and kind image you have of Remus… Although, maybe that isn’t too bad. A gentle giant masking an indelicate second face was quite attractive in your eyes. Maybe he’ll finally suit the rouge-ish image that comes to mind when you take in his many tattoos, which were often suppressed by his soft, dark academia-inspired fashion. 

Massaging away some of the tension in his taut wrists, his large and veiny hands on full display, Remus sits back down with a frown, “This is a fucking mess—”

“—you’re a fucking mess,” Sirius shoots back, a mischievous hint in his tone as the heat in your cheeks continue to increase until you’re positive you have steam steadily rising out of your ears. 

“This is serious, Sirius,” Remus calls his name almost mockingly and the icy stare Sirius sends him in return is so icy you feel the chill run down your spine without having to look. 

“Oh, I am serious, don’t you know who I am?” before the tension could rise to dangerous levels again, you launch yourself off of Sirius’ lap, willing the butterflies from your stomach away and suppressing all imagery of the affection Sirius was just drowning you. It was his attempt at distracting you from the tense situation but you’re fed up of it now. It also breaks your heart seeing them like this when you know their true affections for one another.  

“That’s enough!” you stand as strong as the finality ringing in your statement, “you two need to make up!” Remus and Sirius face the point of your accusing finger with disgruntled expressions, “I thought you two loved each other,” your disappointed tone makes their shoulders sag in shame and their eyes avoid one another’s. 

“Dove, please—”

“—Listen…” the careful intonation in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed and wills them to hear you out with care, lips sealed shut, “you were both right — you both had good reason to act the way you did and I can’t blame either of you for wanting to steer things into a certain direction but I’m also to blame for this, okay? I was horrible at communicating my true emotions and that led to a lot of unnecessary heartache on both sides,” with a deep breath, you establish your resolve, “can’t we all just make up and move forward together?” everyone in the room knows that when you said ‘we’, what you really meant was just Remus and Sirius. 

James has been an absolute angel throughout all of this, collateral damage to their bickering and unloving behaviour towards each other; stuck between a rock and a hard place. You only have sympathy for him being caught up in the middle of it all.  

“Dove, it’s not—”

You swiftly interrupt, “I love all of you,” your confession makes them all stutter and flush pink in the cheeks. It’s an image that makes you smile warmly just before insecurity creeps over and your smile turns shy, “don’t… don’t you love me too?…” it was now clear in their actions that they reciprocated your romantic affections and so you weren’t wrong to assume that they wanted you to take part in their relationship…right?

The drawn out silence that followed was too much for you to bear. Even after taking some of the blame off their shoulders and confessing your love, they were still too stubborn to admit their wrongs and make up. Huffing, you make your disappointment and frustrations known with a deep frown, thoroughly concealing your heartache from their silence .

“We just need—” Sirius finally begins, stubborn as ever, only to be glared at harshly by both, Remus and James. This was not the right time for excuses. You had just worded your true feelings for them and they needed to reciprocate in kind. But those words were hard to come by, the timing for a confession also wasn’t ideal for the moment. Then again, when would it ever be. They’ve all just proven how incompetent they were at emotions despite being in such a loving relationship, and yet, you were still willing to accept and be with them romantically. The words they have for you reached beyond that of just love; they were also grateful, astonished and embarrassed for their incompetence. 

“I love you too, angel, so so much,” James finally speaks up, eyes bright and his smile warm with his adoration of you. He ignores the high tension in the room, eyes fixed solely on you as he glowed like the summer sun but he doesn’t reach out for you in any way, he simply sits and admires. Admires how beautiful you look, admires how strong you are, admires how loving and sweet you remain despite all the trouble and anguish they’ve put you through.  

You feel the world disappear around you and narrow your focus onto the only person you were grateful for in the room at that moment. Year heart pounds with warmth and devotion and all you want to do is be close to him. Helping yourself into James’ lap, you smile up at the bewildered look on this handsome face, “Oh James, you’re my only saving grace,”

James smiles at your words as his arms wrap around your waist, securing you in place, “yeah?” his voice is a faint whisper and airy with his adoration for you. 

“Yeah,” reaching up, your arms wrap around his neck and pull him close so you can press your face under his chin. Behind you, you feel the baffled attention of Sirius and Remus, “how about I feed you some lunch again? Like we always used to do?”

Without waiting for an answer, you lean over to swipe up one of your lunch containers and proceed to feed him, completely ignoring the grumbling and whining emitting from Sirius and Remus. 

“I like your thinking, angel,” James giggles adorably and happily accepts your affections as the two of you silently agree to ignore the other two until they make up. In the mean time, you’ll enjoy each other’s company in your own little bubble of love. 

“How does it taste?” you ask sweetly, blatantly ignoring Remus and Sirius, sitting side-ways on James’ lap but keeping your full attention on him. 

“Delicious! More than delicious!” James exaggerates and basks in the bell-like giggles he draws from you, he doesn’t want the sound to ever stop, “You’re always such a great cook, angel!”

“I made it all with love, just for you, Jamie~”

He hums low and appreciative, “I’m so fucking lucky, aren’t I?” 

As you continue to feed him, James takes the opportunity to look over your shoulder and smirk at the miserable faces of his two lovers. They know they deserved this unfair treatment. They also know that, to remedy it, all they have to do is abandon their pride and apologise, which is always worth it when your love is on the line — it should be easy for them. All things considered, this was just light punishment.

Faced with only one solution, Remus and Sirius turn to each other. Sirius still grumbles under his breath as Remus sighs. The brunette accepts that it was entirely his fault for pushing Sirius to suppress his natural way of loving just for his own personal fear that things would turn out horribly, otherwise. And judging from the way Sirius avoids his eyes and continues to whine, Remus knows it’s up to him to make amends. 

‘But it’s not so bad’, Remus smiles to himself; seeing one of his beloved partners grumpy and stubborn was oddly charming. And now that most of the conflict has dissolved, Remus had no other reason to hold back an apology other than for his own personal pride. 

Making his way over, Remus kneels down beside his grumbling lover and whispers his name affectionately, “Sirius,” Remus waits, patient and unhurried, until his beloved in question finally looks at him. As soon as they meet eyes, Remus is left thinking the same devoted thought he’s always had when drowning in his boyfriend’s diamond-grey eyes, ‘how did I get so lucky?’ which is then quickly followed by a guilty, ‘why did I ever let it get this far?’

“Remus,” 

“I’m sorry,” the piercer doesn’t wait for a response and, almost desperately, leans up to capture Sirius’ lips. The kiss is filled with emotions, a mix of sincerity, love and forgiveness. The sentiments were so keen they almost smother the murmured, unspoken words on Sirius’ tongue, “what was that, love?” Remus asks against his lover’s lips, unable to pull away fully. He missed this…

“I’m sorry too…”

It was a unanimous decision to have you spend the night at the boys’ shared flat. They’ve been kept away from you for too long and tonight they wanted to make up for lost time. High on emotions and desperately missing their presence in your life too, you agree as long as you dropped by your place first for a change of clothes. But not before having Remus and Sirius apologise to James for their neglect of him. 

“You know, we really are so happy to have you in our lives, dollface,” Sirius utters, leaving feathery kisses on your lips as he pushes the door to their flat open whilst carrying your duffle bag for you. He was kind enough to take you to and from your flat on his motorcycle just for the quick collection of your night time essentials. 

“I’m happy you’re in my life too, Siri,” the situation has finally dawned on you but you still can’t believe the events that have lead you to this very moment. 

“Stop hogging her, Padfoot!” James whines, sweeping you off your feet and hurrying to the living room with you in his arms. Once there, he sits you on his lap triumphantly, “Aha! You’re finally mine!” he cheers and attacks your neck with a flourish of kisses, tickling you and infecting the air with your melodic giggles. 

“Now you’re hogging her Prongs, stop being a hypocrite!” Sirius pants lightly after rushing to the scene from the hallway, a grin plastered on his lips despite his accusing words. 

From the kitchen, Remus smiles to himself at the sounds of merriment in the air and continues to cook dinner. 

This is how it should be…

Remus wanted to sort the conflict with Sirius out more, so he insisted that you spend the night in James’ bed which you happily agree shyly, James grinning widely at your side. All three of you agree as Sirius whines and makes adorable grabbing motions at you but it’s no use as Remus keeps the tattooist pressed tightly against his side, dragging him off and trapping him in his room for the night. The sight made you giggle but it was a brief reprieve from the anxious nerves that soon had you avoiding James’ eyes. 

“You’re so cute,” James whispers affectionately at your shy behaviour, resisting the urge to kiss you as he leads you to his room and gestures to his en suite, “you can change in there, beautiful, I can change out here and brush my teeth at the kitchen sink instead,” 

With a small smile, you move past him with your duffle, eager to get ready for bed but squeal in surprise when you feel a teasing pinch at your ass. An explosion of heat blooms across your cheeks when you glance over your shoulder and observe James’ sly wink and devious smirk directed at you. 

“James—!”

“Angel with a cutest ass, aren’t I a lucky bastard?” he chuckles and presses a devoted, almost possessive, kiss onto your lips, “I never did say thank you for making those two apologise to me,” he purrs and nips at your bottom lip, “you make me feel seen…god, I love you so much,” you squeak into the fierce kiss that follows, almost losing yourself in the embrace but pry yourself away with a squeal when his hands travel too low and squeeze greedily at your ass. 

You rush into the bathroom with butterflies in your stomach as James licks his lips and laughs merrily. He’s come to love teasing you and you didn’t know whether to argue or welcome it with open arms. Shaking the thoughts out of your head, you move on to change into your pyjamas - an oversized shirt and shorts - before proceeding with your night time skincare routine. For a moment, you contemplated taking a shower but rule against it, not wanting to prolong your night time routine. No more than fifteen minutes later, you were out of the en suite bathroom feeling refreshed and ready for bed but giggle at the sight of James already tucked under the covers. He looks so cosy and innocent, it almost makes you forget about his devious behaviour earlier on. 

“All ready?” James asks with his usual boyish grin and sits up, allowing the covers to drop from his chest, at which point you quickly realise that James is a liar. He didn’t need to change into anything! All he did was take off his shirt and he was all set for bed! “I changed into comfier pyjama pants, though,” he argues lightly as you slip into the right side of the bed. 

“That’s just half changing!” your retort has him laughing aloud, your flustered state beyond amusing and incredibly adorable in his eyes.

“Am I making you shy, princess?~”

“…No,”  

“Oh yes I am~”

“Go to sleep, James,”

“Not without a goodnight kiss from my angel,” he leans over you with his naked chest on full display and you stutter in embarrassment, “don’t be shy, come and give me a fat smooch~” he puckers his lips above you and awaits your compliance with closed eyes. 

“James—”

“I’m a very patient man, darling, I can do this all night long,”

“No you’re not,”

“Yes I am,”

“You’re not,”

“I am,”

“Not!”

He finally peaks an eye open. Then slowly opens both eyes as he un-puckers his lips to smirk down at you, caged in between his muscular arms as he props himself up with his elbows, “You just like staring at my beautifully muscular chest don’t you?” you watch as his ego inflates to dangerous levels right in front of you, “My tattoos turn you on too, angel?~”

“Oh for goodness sake!” you finally relent and lean upwards, your smile matching his own when you finally capture his lips in his much desired, goodnight kiss. With one arm holding himself up, James uses his spare hand to hold your face in place, prolonging the kiss. You have no choice but to accept his needy demands as your hand searches his bedside table for his lamp switch. 

Morning comes with you groaning in discomfort as a syrupy wetness coats your inner thighs and painful pangs make you want to curl up into a ball. Your bleary morning fog makes the situation difficult to decipher but the realisation soon comes crashing down like a landslide and you lift the covers with a scream, the scent of iron becoming more potent. Beside you, James jumps awake, fully alert as his worried, hazel eyes scan you, trying to discern what may be the problem. 

“What’s wrong, angel?” he asks, voice deep and groggy with sleep but dripping in concern.

“James, I’m so sorry,” you sob into your hands  and curl up into yourself, hiding your face away from him. 

“What do you mean?” he reaches forward, inching closer to you in the process and quickly realising what’s wrong when he feels an unusual wetness seep through his thin pyjama pants, “oh angel, don’t be upset, it’s okay,” he coos, gently prying your hands away from your face so he can kiss your forehead tenderly, “it’s normal. Are you okay?” he asks softly, looking over you without an ounce of judgement or anger on his face, only concern and soft, kind, heart-fluttering love in his eyes. 

“Th-the blood—”

“I don’t care about the blood,” he insists gently, “I just want to make sure that you’re okay,” you remain silent from the embarrassment but he’s understanding, “do you want me to get you some painkillers?”

As soon as you give an affirming nod, he’s out of bed and hurrying down the hall. It doesn’t take very long for him to come back to you, a glass of water in one hand and a pack of painkillers in the other. 

“Thank you,” you finally utter with a small smile, still upset at having ruined the sheets but so incredibly grateful for his tolerance. Patiently, he waits for you to take your dosage before he’s sweeping you up in his arms and carrying you into his en suite. 

“Get cleaned up, angel,” he voices into you hair before placing you back on your feet, “I’ll change the sheets in the mean time,” he leaves you with a kiss before you could utter another word of apology. He wasn’t going to take it, he made that very clear, because it wasn’t your fault. And it was nothing a little oxi stain remover couldn’t fix. 

The start to the day wasn’t ideal but James, Remus and Sirius made one of the most agonising and frustrating times of the month for you much more enjoyable. James woke his two lovers up while you were showering in his bathroom, thanking your lucky stars that you bought a spare change of clothes just in case you wanted to shower, and they all made the effort of getting you comfortable. 

James changed his bedsheets and laid a dark coloured towel down for you to lay on top of just to catch any more potential leakage. He made sure you didn’t see his bloodied sheets again too so that you wouldn’t continue feeling guilty and happily took care of the stains away from your line of sight. Sirius worked on breakfast as Remus made you some tea and a hot water bottle and, before James steps out of the flat to buy you period pads, you hear Remus call out helpfully, “look for the long, heavy flow pads and make sure to get the ones with wings,” their thoughtfulness makes you smile. 

“How did you know to get these ones?” you ask when James comes back, panting as he hands you the pack of pads through the door of his en suite. 

“Remus told me, and I heard girls experience heavier flows on the first few days,” his answer draws out a proud smile. You have no doubt you’d be well taken care of in this relationship, though it does make you bashful. 

“Thank you, James,” 

For breakfast Sirius cooked you french toast with strawberries and honey, apparently it was the only good thing he could cook. Remus balanced the sweetness of the meal out with some eggs and toast, while James brought over the tea and hot water bottle Remus had also prepared. Breakfast was pleasant but they boys were insistent that you stay in James’ bed and call if you needed anything. As much as they wanted to spend the full day right by your side, they were preparing to make the announcement of returning their business into full operations and were still taking calls and responding to client emails at home. You didn’t argue, you knew the shop was important to them so you didn’t want to be a burden. 

The day drags by and you know they’ve made it clear that you could freely call out to them whenever but the hours drag by and they haven’t heard a single peep. They didn’t mean to lose their full attention in their work; it’s been so long since they were last filled with the motivation to keep up with their business that emails and paperwork on equipment orders had piled up significantly so they were swamped. Thankfully they were finally inspired enough that the work didn’t feel laborious. Unfortunately, that meant seeing them in their element though James’ open doorway and shying away from redirecting their attention back to you. 

It wasn’t until you willed yourself to walk to their kitchen that you finally caught their attention. All phone calls, email responses and paperwork filing was stopped as soon as you stepped into their line of sight when your craving for a snack became too much. They had gone for a quick shop to buy you an array of snacks from sweet to savoury that morning and had left the bag on their kitchen counter. You were just reaching for the bag when Remus caught your wrist and swept you up into his arms in order to carry you back into James’ bed. 

All three of them felt incredibly guilty for having neglected you, unintentional or not, they even neglected themselves in the process by prioritising their work and forgetting about lunch. In Remus’ head, everything circled back to the night before as a chain of linked events. As you laid in bed, curled up and nibbling on a chocolate bar, you watch and listen as Remus scolds the two about how, if the outburst didn’t happen, they wouldn’t have asked you to stay the night, you wouldn’t have agreed and you wouldn’t have had to suffer from their incompetent care. Remus was being too hard on himself, which reflected directly onto Sirius and James.

“This is why I said we needed to be careful and. To. Be. Patient,” Remus snarls under his breath, almost growling at Sirius and James who stand at the foot of the bed. James nods with a disappointed sigh as Sirius crosses his arms and huffs in defiance. They’re developing a bad habit of speaking about you when you’re still in the same room but, at least, it means their thoughts are open to you.

“I didn’t see you complain when you watched James and I practically devouring her sweet little mouth yesterday,” Sirius’ challenging comment makes the tips of James’s ears turn visibly pink as an embarrassing heat climbs up your neck to bloom across the apples of your cheeks. Interestingly, James can barks and bites to his heart’s content with you but if anybody else brings it up, it seems that bashfulness isn’t far behind. 

Remus shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, “don’t start now, Sirius—”  

“—I-I don’t mind, we’re all learning to love together and I know how important the tattoo parlour is to all of you so I really don’t mind…” you interrupt their bickering with flushed cheeks and shy eyes, unprepared for the reaction you would receive. 

Remus snaps his full attention towards you in that moment. Your words were innocent and you look the picture of virtue, shy and sweet as you peer up at them with glittering doe eyes and a small smile. Remus doesn’t think anybody else could be more beautiful than you right now. You appreciate his passions, you support it even, you’re understanding, you’re kind, you’re loving, you’re sweet and you’re so incredibly lovable, he wants to keep you away from the rest of the world forever, selfishly keeping you for himself. He wonders if you know how much of a tease you’ve been to him this whole, working him up over and over and over again until he finally snaps.  

Morals and patience be damned — he can’t resist you anymore. 

Remus’ face carries an unreadable expression as he gives a slow exhale and strides over to you. Sirius and James watch from where they stood, unmoving but with sly smiles on their lips — they know you’re the perfect image of Remus’ weaknesses bundled into one being and they both knew this was coming. It was about time… they applaud him though, he has more patience than them — but he had more desires too. 

It all happens too fast for you to register but Remus was quickly looming over you, propped up by a hand on the bed as his other gripped at your chin. His eyes were piercing and held such promise within them, un-breaking and passionate, that you couldn’t look away. 

“Don’t tempt me, beautiful girl,” his voice lowers several octaves and is underpinned by a hypnotising vibration that corrupts your limbs with minor tremors and a ferocious heat. Shamelessly, he captures your lips in a soft and tender kiss, an antithesis to the dark gleam in his feral eyes, “I’m not above making a mess in the bedroom,” you gasp at the implication and, for a moment, your cramps become pleasantly arousing. Again, Remus can’t help but hold your lips hostage in an increasingly impassioned embrace. He greedily eats up your pretty moans, the muffled sounds going straight to his groin and making his smart trousers uncomfortably tight — a prickling warning to his precarious conduct, “so be a good girl and sit pretty until after you get over this, okay?” he utters roughly against your lips. 

He’ll wait just a little bit longer…it’ll be worth it.

NAVI. | SERIES M.LIST | NEXT : TONIGHT →

A/N : goodness me, this was so much harder to write than previous chapters, i kept changing so many things but i think i'm satisfied with the final product, i hope you darlings do too~ the next chapter will be a pretty big one i think, so i won't be posting it for a while, however, i may post short additional imagines/scenarios for this series that don't necessarily follow the chronological order just to satiate some of you XD anywho~ i hope you darlings enjoyed this chapter and look forward to the next one

TAGLIST : @susyelectra @fangirlninja67 @pagesfalling @thepunisherfrankcastle @axeofwars @in-love-with-4-marauders @chicken-taco-burrito @valencia-rou @feast0nmeee @lestat-whore @hvmxjjk @twilightlover2007 @diaryofabiwoman @woohoney @celestialfantasiess @willbedecided @lovelyygirl8 @iiirhiane-g

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[angelremnants]

A TALES OF... l Tangled Desires

OR.. Loki has not forgotten your previous taunts from the time you had found him trapped in chains—an event you often bring up. Now, he plans to exact revenge by getting even, as a means to remind you who truly holds the reins in your tumultuous relationship.

pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!reader

warnings : Mature themes (+16), suggestive content, power dynamics, mild bondage, flirtation and teasing, strong language. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 2.5k

author's notes : As always, insomnia is my greatest friend and I chose to spend the few hours I have left until my law exam to write about my beloved.

At the request of @mischiefmaker615 , here is a continuation of A Tales Of Bound Intentions—you can also read this separately. You ask, and I shall deliver; I hope this is to your liking, I made it a bit spicier than usual for the occasion.

Buckle up, because what I have planned for a few of the upcoming A Tales Of will get progressively more and more explicit. Stay tuned. <3

(ao3 version)

The two of you had been on the run for a few days since their escape from the dungeon. Although he couldn't bring himself to admit it, the rough treatment and teasing that you had subjected Loki to during their time there had taken a toll on his God complex.

He couldn't accept that he had been treated like a toy by someone whose skill level was comparable to a fawn learning to walk for the first time. He didn't appreciate the smug look you would sometimes direct at him or the subtle hints you dropped, masked as comic mockery and playful threats whenever he didn't "behave," as you put it.

No, he couldn’t let it slide. He would teach you not to mess with a God, let alone the God of Mischief and Trickery.

And so, he did what he does best—scheming.

Loki began his plotting by planting the idea of having a solution to collect more information about the catalyst of your powers that sat around your neck, saying that he knew more about the artifact’s connection to you than he initially let on. He insisted that he has the knowledge to uncover the truth but that you must trust him completely—“blind faith,” as he so smugly put it.

Should you not be as naive as he thought you were, you should have detected the treachery in his words. “Blind faith”, coming from the God of Lies? What a ridiculous request.

But despite your better judgment, you agreed. What a feeble mind, he thought cunningly. She must be really desperate.

Loki then led you to a forgotten place, deep within an uncharted realm where the air felt heavy with magic, thick and suffocating. He inwardly thanked the countless hours he was forced to study the realms up to the mere small bush; after all, without his grand knowledge, the plan he had concocted would be for naught.

As you arrived at the morbid ground, Loki insisted that retrieving the artifact’s “answers” would require you to pass a series of “trials.” He conveniently left out the fact that these trials were entirely fabricated. Each trial was designed to challenge you physically, mentally, and emotionally—pushing you to your limits while giving Loki the chance to watch, guide, and subtly toy with you. He watched your reactions closely, his amusement barely hidden as you grew more frustrated.

At last, you approached the ruins lying beneath a sky frozen in twilight, violet and gold hues bleeding together like an endless dream. Towering columns crumbled under the weight of time, covered in twisting vines that shimmer faintly as if alive with latent energy.

“This is where we’ll find the answers,” Loki said, his voice velvety yet distant, gesturing dramatically to the morose entrance. “Or rather, where you will.”

You glared at him suspiciously, brushing dirt off your hands from the last “trial” he had made you endure. “And you’re absolutely certain this parchment of truth of yours will explain why I have these powers?”

His lips curled into a smirk. “Oh, without question, mortal.” The twinkle in his emerald eyes suggested anything but sincerity.

You moved deeper into the ruins, his every step deliberate and graceful, while you stumbled slightly over uneven stones. The faint sound of dripping water echoed through the cavernous space, each drop like a drumbeat in your ears.

“Are you sure we’re not lost?” you muttered.

“Do try to keep up, mortal,” he teased, glancing back at you. “I’d hate to see you eaten by some lurking beast before we reach our destination.”

You muttered a string of curses under your breath, and he chuckled, the sound low and rich.

At last, you reached a vast chamber at the heart of the ruins. In the center, bathed in an ethereal light, was a pedestal. Atop it lies the artifact—a small piece of paper, pulsing faintly with a soft green glow, as if alive. The sight of it sent an inexplicable shiver through you.

“There it is,” Loki murmured, his voice dipping into something almost reverent. “The key to all your questions.”

Your eyes narrowed as you studied him. “Why do I feel like you’re enjoying this a little too much?”

His smile widened, sharp and dangerous. “Because I am.”

Ignoring his suspicious smirk, you stepped forward, your heart pounding in your chest. Finally, you would gain some answers as to why your peaceful life was to be tragically moved. The closer you got to the artifact, the more it seemed to hum, its light growing brighter as if reacting to your presence. You reached out, your fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against the surface—

And then it phased through your hand, the glow extinguishing like a snuffed-out flame.

“What the—” You spun around, your confusion quickly morphing into anger. “Loki, what’s going on?”

His laugh echoed through the chamber, cold and mocking. “Oh, my dear, sweet mortal. Did you truly think it would be that easy?”

Before you could respond, glowing golden runes flared to life around you, their intricate patterns weaving through the air like serpents. In an instant, multiple shadows mimicking hands shot out, coiling around your wrists and binding your arms behind your back. You gasped, struggling against the hands, but they only tightened, holding you in place.

“Loki!” you snapped, fury blazing in your eyes. “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

“Well, well, well. Look who’s all tied up now,” he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement as he sauntered closer.

“You bastard,” you snarled, straining against the bodiless binds. “I should’ve known. You planned this.”

“Of course I did,” he said with infuriating calm, his emerald eyes gleaming. “You messed with the God of Mischief, after all. Did you truly believe I wouldn’t take the opportunity to get a little… payback?”

Loki sauntered toward you, his movements languid and calculated, the glow of his seiðr spread around the room illuminating each of his steps. Your arms were pinned to the wall of rocks behind you, and despite your best efforts, your struggle only seemed to amuse him further. He approached, and you felt the weight of his gaze.

“You’ve truly outdone yourself this time, Loki,” you snapped, your voice taut with anger as you glared at him. “Was this all some sort of twisted joke to you?”

“A joke?” His grin widened, sharp and merciless. “Oh, mortal, don’t flatter yourself. This is far more entertaining than a mere joke. Consider it… your next lesson.”

Your breath caught, your eyes narrowing as he circled you slowly, the sound of his boots echoing in the cavernous room. He moved around you, his presence a tangible force. “You think this is funny?”

He stopped right in front of you, his breath brushing against your neck as he leaned in, his voice a low purr. “I think it’s hilarious. Watching you stumble so earnestly toward a truth you were never going to find.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you growled, tugging at the glowing restraints. You strained against the magic holding you captive.

“And you’re predictable,” he countered smoothly as his expression shifted, the mocking tilt of his lips turning darker, more dangerous. “But I’ll admit, you do have your charms. It’s fascinating how someone so determined to appear strong can look so utterly vulnerable when bound like this.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you refused to look away. You met his gaze, defiant. “If you think you can intimidate me—”

“Intimidate you?” He laughed, the sound rich and biting. “Oh, no, darling, you misunderstand. I’m not trying to frighten you.” His fingers trailed lightly along your jawline, sending an unbidden shiver down your spine. He touched you, a feather-light caress that sent a jolt through you. “I’m simply… admiring the view. What was it you said? “A sight to behold”, I believe. I’m sure mine is far better than yours was.”

Your eyes widened slightly, your composure slipping for the briefest moment, and Loki seized on it immediately. His grin sharpened, his hand tilting your chin upward. He held your face, forcing you to look at him.

“You’re wondering what I’m thinking, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his voice dipping into something more intimate, more dangerous. “Shall I tell you? Or would that be too much for your delicate sensibilities?”

“I don’t care what you’re thinking,” you spit out, though your voice betrayed you, trembling just enough to embolden him. Your voice wavered, giving him the advantage.

“Oh, but you do.” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. He whispered, his nearness unsettling. “You’d burn to know, wouldn’t you?”

“You’re disgusting,” you snapped, your voice trembling with fury—and something else you refuse to name. You felt a confusing mix of emotions, anger warring with something else.

He laughed softly, the sound curling around you like smoke. He chuckled, a sound that seemed to envelop you. “Am I? Or are you simply flustered because I’m saying the things you’d never dare to admit to yourself?”

“Let me go, Loki!” you demanded, your voice breaking slightly as you struggled against the binds. You renewed your efforts to escape, but the restraints held firm.

“To let you go..” His laugh is low and mocking as he circles you like a predator, his presence overwhelming in the empty, echoing chamber. He moved around you again, his presence suffocating. “Now, why would I do that?”

He stops in front of you, leaning in until their faces are a breath apart. He stood before you, so close you could feel his breath. “Do you know how breathtaking you look right now? Bound. Helpless. Furious. You wear indignation so beautifully.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, but your cheeks betrayed you, blooming red under his intense gaze. Your face flushed, despite your attempt to remain composed.

He chuckles, the sound warm and dark, wrapping around you like a velvet ribbon. His laughter surrounded you, a dark and seductive sound. “Oh, darling, you wound me. Do you truly think I’d go through all the trouble of setting this little trap if I didn’t enjoy myself? But please, anger yourself all you want, you're only becoming more and more enticing."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "What do you want from me, Loki?"

His grin widened, wicked and knowing. "I shall tell you, since you insist." His voice dipped lower, smoother, like the purr of a cat that’s cornered its prey.

Before you could respond, he stepped closer, his fingers ghosting over your jaw, tilting your chin upward so that you had no choice but to meet his gaze. "For starters," he began, his tone almost soft, "I couldn't help but notice how deliciously you squirmed when I had you at my mercy. It’s… distracting, in the best possible way.”

“I’m imagining what it would be like,” he continued, his voice silk-soft but laced with wicked intent, “to see that defiance crumble. To watch you plead—not for freedom, of course. No, that’s far too mundane. But for something else entirely. Something only I could give you.”

Your breath hitched, your entire body going rigid as his words sank in.

“I wonder,” he drawls, his tone almost conversational, as though he’s discussing the weather, “how many ways I could make you squirm. Would you bite your lip? Whisper my name? Or perhaps,” his smile turns cruel, showcasing razor sharp teeth, “you’d try to fight it. Deny what you’re feeling. But your body would betray you in the end, wouldn’t it? You would try to hide the squeezing of your delectable thighs together, in hopes it wouldn’t catch my eye. But oh, dearest, the scent of you would be enough.”

Your breath hitched, and you tried to turn your head away, but his grip was gentle yet firm, keeping you in place.

“You see,” he uttered, his thumb brushing faintly over your lower lip, “I also can’t help but imagine what other delightful expressions I could coax out of you. Like when you’re truly flustered. Or desperate.” His smirk sharpened, his eyes glittering with mischief. “Would you let out profanities? Would you curse my name, or worship it? Or perhaps…” His voice lowered to a whisper, rich with heat. “…you’d beg?”

Your eyes widen, and your face turns a deeper shade of red. “Loki!”

“Mmh, how I love the sound of you screaming my name. Yes, darling?” he purrs, feigning innocence as his thumb slides just beneath your chin, his touch barely there but maddeningly deliberate.

“Y-You’re—I’m gonna kill you when I get out of this,” you stuttered out, your voice trembling with fury—and something else you refuse to name.

“And yet, here you are, at my mercy.” His smile softened slightly, but the glint in his eyes remained. “And I think you’re rather enjoying this little game of ours.”

“I—what? No!” You struggled against the binds again, more to distract yourself from the heat crawling up your neck than any real hope of escape.

He laughed, low and smooth. “Relax, darling. I’m only jesting… for now.”

Your jaw tightened, but he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Though I must admit, the thought of you like this—so at my mercy—does spark all sorts of wicked ideas. If only you could hear the things I’m thinking. The things I could do to you.” His voice dipped into something darker, more intimate, each word sending a shiver down your spine.

“Stop,” you snapped, though it came out weaker than you intended, your resolve wavering under his relentless teasing.

He pulled back slightly, his expression one of mock concern. “Am I making you uncomfortable, dearest? Or is it something else entirely?” His smirk returns, sharper than ever. “Because if I’m not mistaken, you’re blushing.”

“I am not!” you protested, but your reddened cheeks betrayed you once more.

“Oh, you are,” he insisted, leaning back in as if to inspect you more closely. “And it’s absolutely adorable. It makes me want to eat you up.”

Your glare intensified, but he only laughed again, clearly relishing every moment of your frustration.

With a flick of his fingers, the shadows retreated, and you stumbled forward, barely catching yourself. You glared at him, but he merely watched you, his expression unreadable now.

“Consider this a lesson to remember,” he said, stepping back and watching you with a smug grin. “You may have power, but I not only am I far more capable, I also have… an extensive imagination. Next time, darling, do try to keep your wits about you. It’s unbecoming to be so… defeated.”

“You’re a pain in the ass when you want to be,” you muttered, your fists clenching at your sides.

“And you’re too irresistible when you’re angry,” he purred back without missing a beat, his smirk softening into something almost fond before he turned and started walking away.

As you watched him go, your heart still pounding, you swore under your breath. Loki, you decided, is a menace—a brilliant, infuriating, dangerously charming menace.

You briefly wondered if your heart could handle the road, knowing this was what to expect repeatedly until your journey ended.

see more A Tales Of related ficlets.

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dividers ©️ @chachachannah + @toastray .

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[megtrns]

nsfw! drabbles based on lyrics from my spotify wrapped, 2024 (afab!reader) (minors dni!) ft. mtmte megatron, fortress maximus, tarn

open your hands// take a glass

In the beginning, he blamed his hunger on the fool’s energon. Having been tampered with, the chemo-sedatives were never meant to fulfill him. The rations were meant to keep him in line, and if the constant, dull, pang of hunger was a side effect, then Megatron’s put up with worse. 

Until he sees you underneath him, back arched and body flushed against his frame: skin to metal, chest to chassis.

He has never felt this starved in millenniums. 

You made a breathless, begging sound, fingers trembling against his shoulders as if attempting to squeeze — nails barely denting the surface of his armor. For a fraction of a second, his appetite was sated, curbed by the sight of your bodies intertwined against the sheets. But with the air growing taut and heavy, he suddenly finds himself acting out of blind desire, seized by a new kind of want. 

Dentae licking the column of your neck, he ignores the strain in his wires from being mass displaced for so long, choosing to taste you on his tongue instead.

He tastes the sea and hears you moan, ecstasy gripping his spark. Holding your body with a new kind of vigor, Megatron stared down at you as if he was a desert on the brink of drought. And he knew that for him, you would be his river, endless and giving, already spreading your legs to pull him closer to drink.

2. I must be dreaming // they don’t hear me 

The vastness of space had always made the Lost Light eerily quiet. Well, maybe that was courtesy to the absence of Rodimus and Co, who are currently indulging in the bars of Hedonia and have left the ship in the hands of bots who have no interest in going anywhere near the hab-suite of the mech who had taken Rung hostage and threatened to kill everyone else. So now, in the privacy of his room, you could only hear your breathing mixing with the faint, mechanical whirring of Fort Max’s cooling fans. 

Here, sprawled across his palm with the buttons of your shirt undone and everything beneath the waist removed, you braced yourself on your elbows to catch his optics. 

“ Do you still want to continue?” You whispered, afraid that anything louder would startle him away like a skittish animal. But any apprehension on your part was quickly dismissed when he nudged your knees apart with his nose, eyes red like rubies, gleaming under the silhouette. 

When he pressed his dentae flat against your cunt, heavy and warm and so wet, you were glad that the entire level was quiet. Because it meant the floor was empty, and Fort Max could indulge in the sounds you make all he wants, undisturbed and uninterrupted by the stillness of space outside.

3. If it hurts to breathe // open a window 

Tarn was never cruel to you. It sounded like a lie, but he has done nothing but treat you like you were made of glass: too precious to drop and even more inconvenient to replace. So you do your best to perform. Until the line between reality and pretence starts to blur, the same way the minutes begin to melt into months, and you find yourself no longer sure of where you stand.

Somewhere along the way, your arms are shaking, trembling under the weight of your body as it spasms in anticipation. It feels like you’ve been here for hours, thighs slick with sweat as they struggle to properly wrap themselves around Tarn’s waist.

You can see his eyes narrow in amusement behind the mask, enthralled if not obsessive, servos sure to leave marks against the right side of your hips. You had his spike halfway inside of you, and even with his mass displaced, you had a feeling this was as far you could go. But every time your body clenches down to reach its peak, he abruptly stops you, and you don’t understand what you did to warrant this kind of torture.

But then you catch him staring, unable to peel his optics away from the mess between your bodies. Tarn wants to see you like this — pleading and wet, helpless in his grip. Tarn was never cruel to you, so when you finally cave in and beg for him to give you what you want — what you need — he doesn’t hesitate to press you down the metal slab of his berth.

This time, when you pressed your face against the wiring of his neck, you didn't have to perform. All you needed to do was sing. Because there was nothing more beautiful to Tarn than the sound of you wanting.

[anyataylorjoys]

Someone asked me how I created the fade transition in this gifset which I’ll try to explain in the most comprehensive way that I can. If you've never done something like this before, I suggest reading through the full tutorial before attempting it so you know what you'll need to plan for.

To follow, you should have:

basic knowledge of how to make gifs in photoshop

some familiarity with the concept of how keyframes work

patience

Difficulty level: Moderate/advanced

Prep + overview

First and foremost, make the two gifs you'll be using. Both will need to have about the same amount of frames.

For ref the gif in my example is 540x540.

I recommend around 60-70 frames max total for a big gif, which can be pushing it if both are in color, then I would aim for 50-60. My gif has a total of 74 frames which I finessed using lossy and this will be explained in Part 4.

⚠️ IMPORTANT: when overlaying two or more gifs and when using key frames, you MUST set your frame delay to 0.03 fps for each gif, which can be changed to 0.05 fps or anything else that you want after converting the combined canvas back into frames. But both gifs have to be set to 0.03 before you convert them to timeline to avoid duplicated frames that don't match up, resulting in an unpleasantly choppy finish.

Part 1: Getting Started

Drag one of your gifs onto the other so they're both on the same canvas.

The gif that your canvas is fading FROM (Gif 1) should be on top of the gif it is fading INTO (Gif 2).

And here's a visual of the order in which your layers should appear by the end of this tutorial, so you know what you're working toward achieving:

Part 2: Creating the grid

Go to: View > Guides > New guide layout

I chose 5 columns and 5 rows to get the result of 25 squares.

The more rows and columns you choose, the more work you'll have to do, and the faster your squares will have to fade out so keep that in mind. I wouldn't recommend any more than 25 squares for this type of transition.

To save time, duplicate the line you've created 3 more times, or as many times as needed (key shortcut: CMD +J) and move each one to align with the guides both horizontally and vertically. You won't need to recreate the lines on the edges of the canvas, only the ones that will show.

After you complete this step, you will no longer need the guides so you can go back in and clear them.

Follow the same duplicating process for the squares with the rectangle tool using the lines you've created.

Align the squares inside the grid lines. The squares should not overlap the lines but fit precisely inside them.

This might take a few tries for each because although to the eye, the squares look all exactly the same size, you'll notice that if you try to use the same duplicated square for every single one without alterations, many of them will be a few pixels off and you'll have to transform the paths to fit.

To do this go to edit > transform path and hold down the command key with the control key as you move one edge to fill the space.

Once you're done, put all the squares in their separate group, which needs to be sandwiched between Gif 1 and Gif 2.

Right click Gif 1 and choose "create clipping mask" from the drop down to mask it to the squares group. This step is super important.

After this point, I also took the opacity of the line groups down to about 40% so the lines wouldn't be so bold. Doing this revealed some squares that needed fixing so even if you aren't going dim the lines, I recommend clicking off the visibility of the lines for a moment to make sure everything is covered properly.

Part 3A: Prep For Key framing

I wanted my squares to fade out in a random-like fashion and if you want the same effect, you will have to decide which squares you want to fade out first, or reversely, which parts of Gif 2 you want to be revealed first.

In order to see what's going on underneath, I made Gif 1 invisible and turned down the opacity of the squares group.

If you want text underneath to be revealed when the squares fade away, I would add that now, and place the text group above Gif 2, but under the squares group.

Make a mental note that where your text is placed and the order in which it will be revealed is also something you will have to plan for.

With the move tool, click on the first square you want to fade out. Every time you click on a square, it will reveal itself in your layers.

I chose A3 to be the first square to fade and I'm gonna move this one to the very top of all the other square layers.

So if I click on D2 next, that layer would need to be moved under the A3 layer and so on. You'll go back and forth between doing this and adding key frames to each one. As you go along, it's crucial that you put them in order from top to bottom and highly suggested that you rename the layers (numerically for example) which will make it easier to see where you've left off as your dragging the layers into place.

Part 3B: Adding the Keyframes

This is where we enter the gates of hell things become tedious.

Open up the squares group in the timeline panel so you can see all the clips.

Here is my example of the general pattern that's followed and its corresponding layers of what you want to achieve when you're finished:

So let’s try it!

Expand the control time magnification all the way to the right so you can see every frame per second.

As shown in Part 3A, select your first chosen square.

Where you place the time-indicator on the panel will indicate the placement of the keyframe. Click on the clock next to opacity to place your first keyframe.

Move the time-indicator over 3 frames and place the next key frame.

Things to consider before moving forward:

Where you place your very first keyframe will be detrimental. If you're using a lot of squares like I did, you may have to start the transition sooner than preferred.

If you're doing 25 squares, the key frames will have to be more condensed which means more overlapping because more frames are required to finish the transition, verses if you're only using a 9-squared grid. See Part 4 for more detailed examples of this.

The opacity will remain at 100% for every initial key frame, and the second one will be at 0%.

Instead of creating two keyframes like this and changing the opacities for every single clip, you can copy the keyframes and paste them onto the other clips by click-dragging your mouse over both of them and they'll both turn yellow. Then right click one of the keyframes and hit copy.

Now drop down to your next clip, move your time-indicator if necessary to the spot where the first keyframe will start and click the clock to create one. Then right click it and hit "paste".

Tip: When you have both keyframes selected, you can also move them side to side by click-dragging one of them while both are highlighted.

Your full repetitive process in steps will go as follows:

click on square of choice on the canvas

drag that square layer to the top under the last renamed

in timeline panel: drop down to next clip, move time-indicator tick to your chosen spot for the next keyframe

create new keyframe

right click new keyframe & paste copied keyframes

repeat until you've done this with every square in the group

Now you can change the opacity of your squares layer group back to 100% and turn on the visibility of Gif 1. Then hit play to see the magic happen.

PART 4: Finished examples

Example 1

the transition starts too soon Cause: initial keyframe was placed at frame 0

the squares fade away too quickly Cause: overlapping keyframes, seen below. (this may be the ideal way to go with more squares, but for only 9, it's too fast)

Example 2

more frame time for first gif

transition wraps up at a good point Cause: in this instance, the first keyframe was placed 9 frames in, and the keyframes are not overlapping. The sequential pair starts where the last pair ended, creating a slower fade of each square.

Part 5: Final Tips and Saving

You can dl my save action here which will convert everything back into frames, change the frame rate to 0.05 and open the export window so you can see the size of the gif immediately.

If it's over 10gb, one way to finesse this is by use of lossy. By definition, lossy “compresses by removing background data” and therefore quality can be lost when pushed too far. But for most gifs, I have not noticed a deterioration in quality at all when saving with lossy until you start getting into 15-20 or higher, then it will start eating away at your gif so keep it minimal.

If you've done this and your gif is losing a noticeable amount of quality and you still haven’t gotten it below 10mb, you will have no choice but to start deleting frames.

When it comes to transitions like this one, sometimes you can't spare a single frame and if this is the case, you will have to return to the timeline state in your history and condense the key frames to fade out quicker so you can shorten the gif. You should always save a history point before converting so you have a bookmark to go back to in case this happens.

That's pretty much it, free to shoot me an ask on here or on @jugheadjones with any questions.

[galaxymagitech]

Inspired by this post where Hal Jordan (who is canonically Jewish) can't help but notice Batman declining a donut on Yom Kippur...

I think it would be hilarious if Hal went into detective mode and it became A Thing.

Batman does frequently refuse pastries, so it takes a while, but eventually the evidence adds up to create A Theory. The Yiddish words Batman occasionally drops in his rants could just be a product of living in Gotham. Maybe he simply isn’t hungry on Yom Kippur. Perhaps he brings his own food during Passover in a spur of paranoia. But all of it, together?

Hal feels like a conspiracy theorist with a string board, because yeah, he feels like a jerk trying to figure out if someone is Jewish, but…he has to know. For the sake of just knowing. And also so he knows whether he should avoid scheduling monitor duty on Friday nights. (Batman’s never complained, but Batman doesn’t really seem the type to kvetch—that goes in the “not Jewish” evidence column).

Batman vetoes a proposal that they meet on the first night of Passover, citing “family matters.” When Diana proposes moving it to the second night, he cites “family matters” as well.

Hal sees Batman eating a cheeseburger. But everyone has different levels of observance, and fasting for Yom Kippur and eating kosher for Passover doesn't mean Batman always eats kosher...

Perhaps he's getting too attached to his idea. Hal theorizes that Batman is wearing a kippah under his cowl, and that’s why he uses a cowl instead of a mask. (Batman is not, in fact, wearing a kippah under his cowl. Hair clips could injure him if he’s hit in the head, and he was never raised to wear one as a kid.)

Eventually, after years of this, Batman brings latkes to the Justice League’s winter holiday party. He looks across the room, stares Hal right in the eyes, holds up a package of vegan cheese, and slowly places a slice on his burger. A chill travels down his spine.

Batman’s definitely seen his “evidence” list, hasn’t he?

[polin-erospsyche]

This post was inspired by a comment from an anon in my ask box. They mentioned that if the Queen hadn’t interrupted Polin's wedding, they could have had a beautiful wedding night (if you’re the anon and you’re reading this, hi! And also, I know this isn't everything, but I'll touch on the rest. Small disclaimer: this got long and I’m sorry).

I agree, that could have happened. But honestly, I'm really glad it didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I would have loved to see it, but I don’t think it would have been good for them. The intimate scenes we did get tell an overarching story and serve a purpose in the narrative. We’ve been told that these intimate moments are a way for them to communicate, so let’s unpack that.

The first intimate scene is about them discovering each other in a new, intimate way, moving from friendship (which had already started to happen in the carriage) to a lover relationship. This moment is crucial for Penelope's story and character development. From this, she grows in confidence and self-awareness. She expresses this to Colin multiple times, such as when she says, “with the confidence you’ve helped me find this year,” and later, “You’ve taught me to hold my own. You have shown me I’m capable of pleasure beyond imagination.”

From that intimate scene onward, Penelope starts to come into her own power and that includes her sexual power. Colin shows her a level of love and care beyond what she ever thought possible, breaking down the belief system she built around herself. She was ready to sacrifice her dreams of being loved and held for financial stability, a mindset ingrained by Portia. Colin helps her see that this doesn’t have to be the case, chipping away at her long-held beliefs.

Let’s now move to the scene in the alleyway, which links back to anon’s comment. Anon suggests that this is the moment they start repairing their relationship post LW reveal. That following this scene they were in a good enough place to enjoy their wedding night if the Queen hadn’t crashed the party. Yes. And no. 

And oh my god how I’ve longed to discuss this scene but I never quite knew how to approach it. At this point in the show, the narrative is like a tightly wound ball of yarn with so many threads to pull at. So, let’s attempt to pull at them. 

First of all, they’ve entered a whole new playing field. And they’ve entered this playing field while being “the oldest of friends really” so they have ammunition against each other. Pen has hurt Colin by lying (hiding the truth from him time and time again) about her identity. She has let him go on and on about his despise of Lady Whistledown. About his dreams of being an author. These were things he told her in intimacy. Those were things he told his best friend and the person he fell in love with. Not the woman who hides behind her column and has done so much wrong to his family and loved ones. 

There is a separation between the two. For Colin, in that alleyway, there is still just Pen his best friend, Penelope the woman he loves and on the other side of that there is Lady Whistledown, the woman he vowed to destroy. He expresses that when he says “so then you do not need Lady Whistledown anymore”. What he fails to realise at this point, and he cannot be blamed for that, is that Lady Whistledown is an integral part of who Penelope Featherington is as a person. That her alter ego is not just a mask she wears but a crucial aspect of her identity, giving her a sense of power and agency in a world that often limits her as a woman. Something that Pen has slowly come to terms with when she says that she no longer needs to hide behind this alter ego but that does not mean there is no value in it, something that she also explains to him after the Queen has crashed their wedding breakfast. 

Now I say that he cannot be blamed for his refusal of recognizing that they are one and the same because he is still holding onto his misbelief, which is that to be loved and to have a value he must protect what he loves and be useful. Part of that is saving and avenging the people he loves from Whistledown. He has given his word to Eloise, to Marina indirectly, to himself and I’m thinking to Pen silently after what she’s written about herself. He finds himself, due to his misbelief, between a rock and a hard place: “the person he vowed to destroy is, in fact, the person he vowed to protect, and there is no separation between the two” (not me directly quoting myself lol). To this you add all the shame over his writing and his envy of her success and you have a recipe for disaster. 

So essentially, in that alleyway you have Pen who is already well along her character arc and Colin who is still gripping onto his original, unchanged self. This represents a power imbalance. What I love throughout this season, and I might write something about this one day, is that Pen and Colin are never quite on the same level both literally and figuratively. There is always one ahead of the other. This, in the long run, is another recipe for disaster because they are never quite equal. That is UNTIL that butterfly ball when they’ve gone through their character arc respectively. That is the moment they fully come together. They become a unit. They are no longer fighting against each other but with each other and for each other. 

But to arrive to this moment they need to do it separately. They need to be able to work on themselves before they can fully be able to work on their marriage. Genevieve says it well “there is no such thing as true love without first embracing your true self”. For Penelope that is becoming Penelope Bridgerton, an amalgam of the best parts of Whistledown and Penelope Featherington. For Colin that is deconstructing his hero complex and fully believing that he is enough just by being exactly who he is. And that has not happened in that alleyway. Truthfully the surface has barely been scraped in that scene because she essentially shuts down his demons for an instant by saying that she loves him. However, the issues remain. 

So yes, we can speculate all we want. If the Queen had not interrupted their wedding, they might have had a wedding night and they might have had a talk about everything afterward. However, the lack of acceptance of their true selves would have driven them up a wall at the next problem, which was how to handle Cressida.

And I think that is why Polin season is actually so beautiful. It is not just about Polin. It is about marriage and how hard it can get, and how you have to work on yourself to fit around the person you love without sacrificing yourself in the process. It is about choosing each other every day, through the ugly as well as the beautiful, through the hard parts as well as the easy ones. It’s choosing to have faith that you’ll work and figure it out without an assurance that it actually will, but if the love is there, then it just might. That is the story they chose to tell through Penelope and Colin.

First gif made by my bestie @polinsated 💕

[willalove75]

Alcina's New Maid Pt. 21 Lady Dimitrescu x Reader

Summary: Alcina goes to scout for the hunters and boy, does she find them. With a prisoner in tow, you feel guilty about his impending fate.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI.

Tags: Light angst, mostly fluff

Notes: Part 21!

Click here for the rest of the series

Gif source

The following day you spent most of the morning and afternoon trailing behind Alcina; helping her with paperwork and tasks as she finished getting caught up from the previous week. Tonight she planned to go out and search for the hunters that have been wandering just beyond the castle grounds and she wanted everything finished before she left.

"What time are you planning on going out?" You ask as you file away some of the papers scattered across her desk.

"After dusk, it'll be easier for me to hide amongst the forest at night."

"That's fair, although you are very skilled at hiding in plain sight in the middle of broad daylight." You tease.

"What can I say? I am a skilled huntress." She quips as she continues her paperwork.

"Huntress?"

"Do you have a problem with the way I describe myself?" She asks, raising an eyebrow playfully.

"No, I just wasn't expecting that to be the word you chose."

"And what word were you expecting me to use?"

"Predator feels like it fits the bill a little better, no?" You say trying to hide your smile and fail.

Alcina side-eyes you and you bite your lip to keep your smile back.

"Predator?" She says, mulling over the word. "Is that how you really feel about me, draga?"

Alcina acts hurt before standing to her full height and slowly makes her way over to you. Each step she takes is calculated, like a lion stalking a baby antelope. Her pout grows into a grin as she backs you up against the filing cabinet and looks down at you, her golden eyes boring into yours.

"Tell me, my love, is that how you view me?" She asks before bending down to your height and brushes her lips against your ear. "As a predator?"

Your breath hitches in your chest when you feel hers against your skin. Before you can react Alcina grabs the front of your dress and hoists you into the air up to her eye level as she stands to her full height. You let out a squeal and she sits you on top of the gigantic filing cabinet. Caging you in, she places both of her hands against the wall on either side of your head and leans in.

"Speak." She commands. The intensity in her eyes have a hint of playfulness to them but it still sends a shiver down your spine.

"I suppose, but it's not something that frightens me." You say as you look back into her eyes. She quirks an eyebrow at you and you lean in closer to her. "I'll let you in on a little secret." You lower your voice. "I actually find it quite attractive."

Alcina doesn't try to hide the smile that pulls at the corner of her lips as she tilts her head at you.

"So peculiar."

"What is?"

"The prey finding the predator attractive."

"Well I find it quite peculiar that the predator finds the prey as equally as attractive."

"The prey has quite the audacity to act so bold in front of it's predator." She says, flashing you a dangerous smile. "Especially when the predator can rip it's prey to shreds in seconds."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You innocently shrug before tilting your head to the side and pressing your lips into the skin on her neck.

You can hear Alcina's breath hitch in her throat. She lets out a low growl as you kiss and suck on her neck.

"You my dear are playing a very dangerous game." She says through her teeth, trying to mask the hint of arousal in her voice.

You respond by nipping at her pulse point and you can feel the vibration of her growl in her throat. She drags her nails down the wall before they rest on your hips and you continue to kiss, suck and nip up and down the column of her neck.

Alcina begins to lose herself in your ministrations, her head falls back and her eyes roll into the back of her head before she catches herself. She captures your lips in a searing kiss and her tongue pushes its way into your mouth. You moan at the intrusion and Alcina's hands grip at your thighs. Spreading your legs wider, you moan into her mouth and your hands go to tangle themselves into her hair. Before you can grasp onto her raven locks she pulls away completely with a sinister smile on her face, leaving you panting, wet, and eager for more. You whine at the loss and she chuckles.

"Oh, my sweet girl." She says, tracing the back of her finger down your cheek. "See what happens when you play with a predator?"

Alcina turns away and walks back to her desk. Her body is aching for you, it's taking all of her self restraint to not turn around, rip the fabric from your body and take you right this second. The only thing keeping her from doing so is knowing she has to finish her work before she leaves and that tomorrow night will be your date night. No harm in getting you all worked up now.

You groan and lean your head back against the ruined wall.

"Ughh! You're so unfair!" You whine. "Come back!"

"May I remind you draga, that you started this?" She says, her eyes trained on her paperwork.

"So?!" Alcina only shrugs in response and you let out another groan. "At least help me get down! It's too tall for me to climb down on my own!"

As you look down you know for sure you'll break an ankle if you try and jump. Alcina taps the pen against her chin in thought before answering.

"What was that thing you and the girls were telling me about? What you do with mischievous pets that are misbehaving?"

Her question takes you off guard for a second and you think. When you realize what she's talking about your jaw drops.

"Are you putting me in air jail?!"

"Ah, yes! That's it. Precisely. I will not get any work done if you continue to distract me." She says with mirth in her voice.

"I wasn't even distracting you all day! I was helping! You're so unfair." You say with a pout and cross your arms.

"Don't forget darling, predators don't play fair." She says with a wink.

Eventually Alcina lets you down and you continue helping her with her tasks. At dinner the girls beg their mother again to let them join her in her hunt but she refuses.

"Absolutely not. Not until I know for certain what we are up against. Plus, the temperature has been dropping at night and I am afraid it is beginning to become unsafe for you girls to be outside in the middle of the night."

The girls groan in unison and Alcina silences them with a stern look.

"We shall see how tonight goes. In terms of both the temperature and what we are up against." The girls become giddy and Alcina gets their attention once more. "Make no mistake, I am not making any promises in this moment. Am I clear?"

"Yes mother." The girls reply in unison.

"Good. Now I must get ready. Draga, will you assist me?"

"Of course!"

She leads you into her chambers and rummages through her dresser.

"Draga, please get me my boots from my wardrobe." She asks.

You nod and rummage through the dozens of shoes she has until you find a large pair of worn, black leather knee-high boots in the back of the wardrobe.

"These?" You ask.

"Yes! Thank you."

Alcina pulls out a pair of black pants and a grey, long sleeved shirt. She lays them on the bed before digging through another drawer and hums when she finds what she's looking for: a black corset belt with straps. Finally, she opens her wardrobe and sifts through the hangers before pulling out a dark brown cowl with a hood.

"That should be everything." She says to herself before she nods and sits down at her vanity. "Draga can you please undo the buttons on my dress?" She asks as she takes the pins out of her hair.

"Of course."

You hop onto the step stool and start unbuttoning the buttons down the back of her dress. She finishes taking out the last pin in her hair as you undo the last button and she stands up and lets the fabric pool around her feet. You stand there for a moment entranced as you look at her, your eyes drinking in every inch of her body.

Alcina's chuckle breaks you out of your stare and you shake your head and to go pick up her dress.

"I am pleased to know I still have such an effect on you." She says.

"You always have." You reply with a smile.

Alcina laughs as she removes her bra and puts on a new one that looks more like a sports bra. She replaces her lacy underwear with a cotton pair and slips on her skin-tight black pants. Alcina pulls the long sleeve shirt over her head and sits on the edge of the bed to put the corset belt. You stand between her legs and fasten the belt around her waist. After that you adjust the straps so they're snug - but not too tight - on her shoulders and nod to yourself when you're satisfied with your work.

"Thank you, draga mea." She says as she cups your face and leans down to kiss you.

"Of course, my love. Do you need anything else? Socks?"

"Ah, yes. Thank you. There should be a wool pair in the drawer."

You rummage through the drawer and find the black wool socks she was talking about and grab them. After shutting the drawer you walk over to her and place them in her hand.

Alcina slips the socks on and you grab her shoes and help her into them. You zipper both boots up and she tightens the laces on the front. She stands up and makes her way back over to the vanity and begins to pin her hair out of her face. You've never seen her do this with her hair before - truthfully you've never seen her dressed so casually before - but she still looks as beautiful as ever.

She stands up, adjusts the belt and her shirt and gives herself another once-over in the mirror.

"How do I look?" She asks.

"Just as beautiful as ever." You reply with a smile.

Alcina grabs the cowl and pulls it over her head and adjusts it on her shoulders. She grabs a pair of gloves from her drawer and slips them on and she's ready to go.

The sun has just begin to set and the last of its light peeks through the window.

"Ready?" You ask.

Alcina huffs and nods. "As ready as I'll ever be."

The two of you walk hand-in-hand down the stairs to the front doors. The girls swarm in and Zina follows closely behind with a bag in her hand.

"Here you are, my Lady. I've packed the usual for you." She says, handing Alcina the bag.

"Thank you, Zina."

Alcina notices the look of confusion on your face and she chuckles as she pulls the bag across her shoulder.

"Most nights when I am out hunting I am gone for long periods of time. So we've come up with a go-bag of sorts with supplies I'll need. Blood, meat, matches, compass, rope, things of that nature."

"I also put a special snack in there for you, mother!" Daniela says with excitement.

"Thank you, bug." Alcina says as she cups her face and kisses her on the forehead.

"How long will you be gone for?" You ask.

"Not until the early hours of the morning I presume."

"Is that normal? Are you usually out that late?"

"Only when she's hunting hunters. If mother were to be hunting deer or other animals she returns much earlier." Bela chimes in.

Suddenly you feel nervous, you're not sure why but you didn't expect Alcina to be out all night. You figured she'd patrol for a couple of hours and head back home. The thought of her being out in the forest alone all night long forms a pit of nervousness in your stomach.

"But you aren't fighting them or actually hunting them, right? I thought you were just scouting?"

"That is correct, although I must be prepared to fight anyway just in case. You never know what could happen and I'd rather be prepared for a fight and not have one than not."

"I guess."

Alcina senses your nerves and bends down to your height and cups your cheek.

"There's nothing to worry about, draga mea. I will stay safe. Even if there is a fight, those hunters won't stand a chance."

"Just be careful, okay?" You ask, looking deep into her eyes.

"I will, iubirea mea. I promise."

She leans in and kisses you like there weren't four other people staring at the two of you. Her kiss was reassuring, sealing the promise she made to be careful and to stay safe. When the kiss ends you wrap your arms around her neck and hold her. You feel her arms wrap around your waist and her hand cradles the back of your head.

"I will come back to you, my love. I promise." She whispers. You nod into her and she kisses you once more before you pull away from each other.

The girls swarm their mother and she wraps her arms around all three of them.

"Stay safe, mother." Bela says.

"If you do kill any, bring one back for us!" Cassandra says.

"Oh! Yes! Please mother? Please?" Daniela asks excitedly.

Alcina chuckles and kisses each girl on the head.

"I will try daughters. If I have any confrontations I need to bring one back as a prisoner for questioning."

"OH! Can I do it? Please mom?!" Cassandra asks as she vibrates with excitement.

"I can't make any promises, but I will see what I can do."

After one more hug and another kiss to the top of each of their heads, Alcina lets the girls go and she pulls her hood up over her head.

"I must be off, I have some distance to cover before I reach where they were last spotted. Daughters, please behave while I am out."

"Yes mother." The girls say in unison.

"Draga, please don't try and stay awake until I come home."

How she's able to know you so well will never not fascinate you. You pout at her demand and she chuckles.

"I promise I will wake you when I'm home so you know I am back safely. Alright?"

"Deal."

"Zina, as per usual you are in charge until I return. I trust you will keep things under control until then." She says, eyeballing the girls as she speaks.

"Of course, my Lady." She says with a bow.

"Excellent. I am as appreciative as always for your loyalty."

"It is my honor, my Lady."

"Have a good night girls, please stay out of trouble while I am gone." Alcina says before scanning everyone's face before opening the door and walking out into the night.

When the door shuts there's a moment of silence before Daniela flies around the entrance hall.

"Oh! Lets play a game! We should chase one of the new maids around the castle!"

"Absolutely not." Zina says. "Ms. Daniela you know well enough I do not allow those kinds of 'games' to be played while I am in charge. Please go and find something quiet and non-destructive to do for the night."

"Fineeeee!" Daniela says.

Zina gives her a warning look before walking away towards the kitchens.

"Ugh she's so strict!"

"I mean I feel like she has to be. Your mother would kill her if something were to happen when she was away." You say.

The girls burst into laughter and you're confused.

"Oh please!" Cassandra laughs.

"Zina can do literally anything and mother would barely bat an eye." Bela says.

"She can get away with murder and mother won't do a single thing to her." Daniela replies.

"She has!" Cassandra adds.

"She what?!" You ask, wide-eyed.

"Oh it was nothing, the girl deserved it and everyone was happy she was gone." Cassandra says.

"What?!"

"That's a story for another day." Bela says, glaring at Cassandra. "Anyway, lets go play a board game!"

The four of you head into the library. A few maids that were in there picking out books before curfew scurry out when you all enter and the girls giggle at their skittishness.

For the rest of the night you and the girls play board games. They try and teach you how to play chess but after a few hours it still makes almost no sense to you. Even when you have one of the girls playing with you, Bela kicks your ass over and over again.

"And that's checkmate!" Bela says and you groan in response.

"Okay, I'm done, I hate this game." You say as you push the board away from you.

"Oh come on! One more! Don't be a sore loser!"

"Bela I'd be a sore loser if I quit after losing one or two games, you've kicked my ass at least a dozen times."

"I've literally never seen anyone suck at chess so badly." Cassandra says as she sketches on the floor.

"Whatever! It's a stupid game anyway!" You say defensively before yawning. "I'm getting tired, we should head to bed."

Looking over you see Daniela curled up on one of the couches, fast asleep with a book resting on her chest.

"Dani, come on, it's time to go to sleep." You say as you gently wake her.

"Is the parlor set up?"

"What?"

"Are our beds in the parlor?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Whenever mother goes out hunting all night Dani usually pulls all of our beds downstairs into one of the parlors so we can hear when mom comes home."

"Aw, that's actually really sweet."

"I'm too tired to do it." Dani says in her half-asleep state.

"How about we all stay in your moms bed then?" You suggest.

"I like that idea. Carry me?" She says.

"There is no way I'm going to be able to carry you, come on, get up."

Daniela growls and reluctantly gets up. She sleepily shuffles into Alcina's chambers with you, Bela and Cassandra. The four of you crawl into Alcina's massive bed and before you know it you're all asleep.

You're awoken in the middle of the night by a loud "BANG" and you and the girls jump up. The four of you rush downstairs and can hear the sounds of someone yelling and crying. As you make your way into the main hall you see Alcina walk in and you freeze.

She sure as hell got into a fight, and a nasty one at that. Alcina was covered in blood, both hers and the hunters. She had cuts, bullet wounds and scrapes all over her body that hadn't healed yet and your heart began to hammer wildly in your chest. Why wasn't she healing? What the hell happened?!

Slung over her shoulder was a man bound by his wrists and ankles, kicking, yelling and begging for Alcina to have mercy on him and to let him go.

"Shut. Up." She growls.

When she sees the four of you run into the hall she relaxes and drops the man onto the ground. He cries out in pain and scrambles to get up onto his knees.

"Mother!"

"Oh my god Alcina what happened?!"

"Mmm man blood!"

"Mom! Are you okay?!"

"I am fine." She says, clearly exhausted.

"Why haven't you healed?!" You say in a panic.

"I am, slowly, but I am. There's no need to fear, draga mea."

"Mother what happened?!"

"I found the hunters." She says with a humorless laugh.

You feel something pulling at your pajamas and you look down to see the prisoner at your feet.

"Please! Please help me! She's a monster!" He cries.

You take a step back in shock, this wasn't a man, this was basically a kid. It would surprise you if he was eighteen years old. You look back at Alcina and she sees the look on your face.

"Keep your filthy man hands off of her!" She says before kicking him away. "Cassandra, take our prisoner down to the dungeon. But do not, and I mean do not harm a single hair on his head. Do you understand?"

"Yes mother." Cassandra says with a hint of disappointment in her eyes. She sticks her sickle into his leg and he cries out in pain as she drags him into the basement.

"Alcina what the hell happened?!" You say as you look over her injuries.

"I will explain everything, but first please bring me into my chambers, I need to bathe."

You nod and you, Bela and Daniela help Alcina upstairs and into the bathroom. Her clothes were torn with bullet holes and slashes and covered in mud. She slices through the remaining fabric and settles into the bathtub. You pour some of her favorite oils and soaps into the tub as it finishes filing and the water immediately turns pink and brown from all of the blood and dirt.

"Are you okay?" You ask with fear in your voice.

"Yes iubirea mea, I am alright." She says with her eyes closed.

"What can I do? Do you want me to do your hair?"

"Thank you."

You climb onto the step stool behind the tub and remove whatever pins remained in Alcina's hair before shampooing and conditioning it. She washed herself before pulling the drain and stepping out of the large tub. After handing her a towel, she dries herself off and the two of you walk back into her bedroom. The wounds on her body still haven't healed although they do look better. Some are still bleeding so Bela tends to them and wraps them up before Alcina gets dressed.

"They're already looking better." Bela says.

"Damn, mom. They really must have put up a good fight." Daniela says, staring at her mothers wounds wide-eyed.

"That they did, my bug." Alcina says as she lays down.

"What happened?" You ask.

"I found a few and stalked them back to their base. Somehow I was spotted and was ambushed by nearly thirty hunters."

"THIRTY?!" Daniela exclaims.

"Approximately, I don't know the exact number. But I killed them all, except the one. He wasn't even fighting, he was just cowering in a bush while the rest of them were slain."

"He looks like a kid." You say quietly.

"Yes, he certainly is young. But that will work to our advantage. The less experienced the hunter the easier they are to pry information from."

A shiver runs up your spine and you try to put the implications of what she said out of your mind.

"Why are you healing so slowly?"

"As Heisenberg said, they are armed to the nines. Machine guns, knives, shotguns, bows and arrows. They had it all and launched one massive assault. My body can only heal so quickly after so many attacks."

"But I thought-"

"It's not the same, draga, I promise." She says, taking your hand in hers. "My healing is not slowed because of the weapons themselves, and none of these are life threatening. The way my healing works is not that I heal in the order I receive the wounds, but in order of which is worse. For example, I was shot in the arms and legs multiple times but one arrow pierced my heart. My body healed that first even though I sustained it after the other wounds. Understand?"

"I do. How many other life-threatening injuries did you sustain?"

"Quite a few. The worst being shot at close-range with a shotgun where my cadou was placed." Your eyes widen with fear and Alcina strokes your hand. "There's nothing to worry about, draga mea. That wound was by far the worst and took the most of my body's energy to heal but it happened quickly. Between that and the other wounds my healing was slowed, but not so much so that any of their attacks could have killed me."

"What can you do to speed up the healing?"

"Blood and rest."

"We'll go grab some of the reserve blood from the kitchen." Bela says.

"Wonderful, thank you girls."

The two of them swarm out of the room leaving you and Alcina alone. She turns back towards you and cuddles into her pillow. She studies your face, seeing the worry in your eyes as you look over the wounds on her body that are taking too long to heal. You're pulled from your thoughts when her finger rests underneath your chin and lifts your gaze to hers.

"What's wrong?"

"What do you mean what's wrong?! Look at you!" You say as tears fill your eyes.

Alcina sighs and sits up, pulling you into her lap and wrapping her arms around you.

"I am alright iubirea mea, I promise. Please don't worry, there's nothing to be fearful of. Even though my healing was slowed they could not have killed me. I promise."

"But you said-"

"I know what I said before about the dagger, but that's completely different. The poison would slow or stop my healing and keep it from regaining it's strength. Even though I was berated with assaults my healing kept up with almost all of it until it was over. The only wounds that were left unhealed were superficial. It healed any other lethal wounds almost instantly the entire time, alright?"

"Okay." You say quietly as you rest you head against her chest.

She runs her fingers through your hair and you hold her hand in yours and place a kiss in her palm.

"Isn't fresh blood better than the reserves?"

"Yes, but I have nothing right now."

"You have me." You say as you interlock your fingers with hers.

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"Draga, do you not remember what happened merely a week ago?"

"I do, but that's so different."

"I am not comfortable with feeding from you."

"Ever again?" Alcina doesn't respond and you look up at her. "You know that's ridiculous, right? You can't be afraid of feeding from me for the rest of your life."

"Draga I will not do it. I cannot lose control again."

"But the dragon isn't out or trying to come out. You never struggled with it before."

"It doesn't matter-"

"Yes it does!"

"That is enough. I am through talking about this."

"Alcina, please. You have to forgive yourself, you have to trust yourself again."

"Draga." She says with a warning tone.

"You know I'm right. And you know that my blood will help you heal faster than the cold reserves you have."

"I am done with this conversation."

"But I'm not!"

"Enough!" She says as she stares down at you. "That is enough, I am not feeding from you and that is-"

Before she can finish her sentence you slice your wrist across one of her nails, breaking the skin and causing yourself to bleed.

"Y/N!!" She yells.

You hold your wrist up to her as an offering.

"I trust you. And you need this. Please, just drink."

Tears well up in her eyes and she looks away.

"Draga, I - I can't-"

"Yes you can! Hurry before I bleed all over myself and you. You have to forgive yourself, Alcina. You have to trust yourself again. Just drink it. It's not from my neck, it's just my wrist. I know you can do it, okay? I trust you." You guide her face towards yours and look into her watery golden eyes. "I trust you. You've taken such good care of me after everything that's happened. Please, let me take care of you. Just this once."

A tear rolls down her cheek and you offer her your wrist once more. The blood is starting to drip down your other hand as you hold it. Alcina hesitates and you bring it closer to her lips.

"You can do it. I trust you. I love you."

With a shaking breath, Alcina leans towards your wrist and wraps her lips around the wound. The moment the blood hits her tongue she closes her eyes and tears fall down her cheeks. Wiping the blood on your hand on your already blood-stained pajama shirt, you reach up and cup her face, wiping away her tears.

"There you go, see? Just like that. And I'm fine, I'm not hurt, I'm not in pain, I'm okay." You say, whispering reassuring words to her as she drinks.

As the bleeding comes to a stop Alcina licks over the wound once more before pulling her lips away from your wrist. Her bottom lip quivers and she wraps her arms around you and buries her face into your neck.

"Please don't ever do that again." She says as you feel tears run down your shoulders.

"I promise. But you did it, right? You drank from me and I wasn't on the brink of death. You were able to control yourself Alcina. I'm so proud of you. I love you, so much."

"I was so afraid I was going to hurt you again."

"But you didn't. Did you feel like you were losing control?" Alcina shakes her head "no." "See? Exactly. You were fine, you didn't hurt me. There's no reason to be afraid of that - unless your dragon is out or trying to get out. When it's just you and I you have nothing to be afraid of, my love."

"But if something were to happen to you and it was because of me-"

"Stop that. Stop thinking that. The only time I was ever really hurt by you like that wasn't even you, it was your dragon. When you're in control you are never going to hurt me. I need you to know and believe that like I do. Plus, I even have a feeling your dragon might not do something like that again after the last time. But that's a theory we can test another day. For now, when it's just you and me, I am safe when I am with you. Okay?"

Alcina takes a shaking breath in and nods her head. She lifts her head from your shoulder and you cup her face, wiping away her tears with your thumbs.

"I love you, Alcina. I love you so much."

She closes her eyes and a few more tears fall before she opens them again and looks deeply into yours.

"I will never understand what I did in this life to deserve such love from such a kind soul." She says before resting her forehead against yours. "I love you with all I have, draga mea."

Alcina pulls you tighter into her and you rest your head on her shoulder as she leans her head against yours.

A few minutes later the girls return with a large carafe of blood and a glass. Bela walks over and notices her mother's wounds are nearly all healed.

"Mother, your wounds are almost all healed, what happened?" As she finishes her sentence she notices the blood on your shirt and she eyes the two of you.

Alcina says nothing and gives you a look, silently pushing you to answer.

"I helped her out." You say, showing Bela the mark on your wrist.

Bela and Daniela look at their mother wide-eyed and you cut in before they can say anything.

"In her defense, she didn't want to but I went ahead and did it anyway. It was a shallow cut and it didn't bleed too much. And she was more than in control. Everything is fine girls, don't worry."

Bela and Daniela relax a little and Bela sits the carafe and glass on the nightstand.

"Okay, well, I'm just going to leave this here anyway just in case. Do you need anything else mother?"

"No, thank you girls. I just need rest."

"Okay. Goodnight mother." Bela says before kissing Alcina on the cheek.

"Night mom, I'm glad you're looking and feeling better." Daniela says and kisses Alcina on the cheek before the two of them swarm out of the room.

You go to get up so Alcina can rest but her grip around you tightens.

"Stay." She says softly as she lays back down.

Nodding your head you allow Alcina to pull you into her embrace and you tuck yourself underneath her chin. She kisses the top of your head and sighs.

"Te iubesc atât de mult, draga mea fata." (I love you so much, my sweet girl.)

At breakfast the next morning Alcina's wounds were all healed and she was back to her normal self. She went into more detail on what happened the night before, how it took her a few hours to find the hunters and that she stalked them for about an hour before they attacked. She's not sure how they saw her but her theory was that she was close to their camp and spotters found her and had the hunters lead her away from it. She said that they suddenly changed course which raised her suspicion levels and a few minutes later she was attacked.

The fight didn't last very long and although they were able to get a few decent hits on her, they never stood a chance. Just when she was about to retrace her steps to see if she could find their camp she heard a heartbeat pounding away in a bush. She silently crept up to it and grabbed the kid and pulled him out.

Alcina laughed when she described the terror on his face and how he was trembling so badly he couldn't run away if he tried. When she stated tying him up he began to scream. She backhanded him across the face and knocked him out just in case more hunters were in the area and heard his cries for help. When he was bound she threw him over her shoulder and made her way back to the castle. He only awoke a few minutes before arriving.

"Thank goodness for that, he was insufferably annoying and if I had to listen to him cry and beg so pathetically the entire trek back I probably would have lost my temper and killed him." She said with a laugh.

The girls listened intently and with excitement at their mothers story meanwhile you sat there silently, thinking of the kid sitting in the dungeon. It would have been one thing if he tried killing her or hurting her. You probably wouldn't have any sympathy for him if that was the case. But he hid the entire time, he was too scared to fight. And now there was a good chance he was going to die. You knew he was part of a group of people that wanted your family dead, but he was also just a kid. Probably following in the footsteps of his family. Part of you felt sorry for him and hoped Alcina would show him some mercy if he was cooperative but deep down you knew that more than likely wasn't going to be the case.

"Draga?" Alcina asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Hm?"

"Are you alright?" She asks, reaching over and placing a hand on your arm.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm fine."

"Something is troubling you."

"I'm okay, I was just thinking of that kid."

"Don't tell me you feel bad for him?" Cassandra deadpans.

"Cassandra." Alcina hisses.

"I know I shouldn't but I do. He's just a kid, and he wasn't even fighting, he was hiding."

Alcina cups your chin and guides your face towards her.

"Your heart is too large for your own good." She says with a warm smile.

"He's going to die, isn't he?"

"Most likely."

"Even if he cooperates? Even if he tells you everything he knows?"

"That's the fun part! You make 'em think you're going to show them mercy if they tell you everything and then you gut them anyway!" Daniela chimes in.

You feel your stomach drop and Alcina shoots a glare at Daniela who shrinks in her seat.

"Girls, that is enough. You are excused. Please let me speak with y/n in private."

"Yes mother." They say before swarming out of the dining room.

"Come." Alcina says, waving you towards her.

You stand up and she lifts you and sits you across her lap. Her fingers lift your chin towards her and she looks down into your eyes.

"You feel empathy for this, man thing?"

"I do. I know I shouldn't. Like if he attacked you, I'd feel differently about it. But he was just scared."

"He let his men die while he hid away."

"I know, but he's just a kid. Alcina you and I both know he's barely eighteen. He's so young. And I would bet he was just there because it's something his family has done for generations. Like what if he never wanted to be there in the first place?"

"Then he should have left."

"Come on, you know it's not always that easy."

"What would you like me to do then? Cut him loose and send him on his way?"

"No, I know you need information from him. I get that. But what if he complies? It feels wrong killing him anyway."

"Draga, it would be dangerous for me to just let him go after he tells us the information we need. He knows too much. Just knowing any of the layout of the castle can be dangerous if he lets the others know what he's seen here."

"I guess. But lets say he gives up the information without a fight, what's the point of torturing him afterwards?" You look up at Alcina and her eyes are gleaming, you remember how they enjoy torture and you sigh. "Right. Because it's fun for you guys."

"Oh, draga." Alcina says as she holds you tighter. "This is just the way things happen here."

"What if he tells you everything you ask for and you don't torture him and just kill him? Like a mercy kill. I know I can't convince you to keep him alive, as much as I would like to. I get how much of a threat that is if he goes back and tells everyone what he saw here. But what if you just did it as quickly and painlessly as possible?"

"Would that ease the guilt you feel?"

"A little."

"Then perhaps. I will consider it. Alright? But let me be clear, either way, he dies. And if he puts up a fight then I will not show him any mercy." She says, lifting your chip up again.

You nod your head and Alcina leans down and kisses you. When your lips part she holds your head to her chest and cuddles you.

"What on earth have you done to me?" She mumbles before placing a kiss on the top of your head.

You look up and meet her eyes. "I'm finding the humanity you swore you lost decades ago." You quip with a smile.

Alcina chuckles and rests her cheek against your head. "That you are, draga mea. That you are."

The two of you sit like that for a few more minutes, enjoying each others embrace. Finally, Alcina sits up and places a kiss on your lips before lifting you off of her lap.

"Will you need to go into our chambers before you need to get ready for this evening?" She asks.

"No, I don't think so. Why?"

"Good, because I am banning you until further notice. There are some last-minute details I need to sort before our date this evening." She says with a warm smile.

"Oh, yeah sure. Can I get ready in there or do I have to go into my old room?"

"You may get ready in our chambers. I will send a maid for you when you are allowed to enter again."

"Okay, that sounds good to me!"

"Excellent. I have some very important plans to finalize and I will not be at lunch. Of course you are permitted to attend although I suggest a light lunch since we will be meeting before our usual dinner time."

"Okay."

"I will see you, my love, tonight." She says before bending down.

"I'm very excited to see what you have planned."

"I am excited for you to see it."

Alcina kisses you passionately and your heart flutters in your chest. She looks deep into your eyes for a moment before standing back up and making her way out of the dining room.

It was still early and you had all day to kill. As excited as you were for your date tonight, your mind kept going back to the kid in the dungeon. Either way he had a death sentence, which still didn't sit right with you. But if you could only let him know that she would show a shred of mercy if he cooperated, you would at least feel like you did something to help him.

Your thoughts began to race in your head and the outline of a plan began to form. If you didn't do anything, you would feel guilty for the rest of your life. But he's just a kid, he deserves some kindness. As the maids enter the dining room to clean up what remained of your breakfast, you head out with a rough plan in place on how you can at least try and help him, for both his sake and yours.

[my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction]

The Taming of Man: chapter Eleven - Dragon Shifting!Katsuki Bakugou x F!reader

I'm really excited right now, wrote all of these chapters so fast because we're FINALLY at the good parts! Let me know what you think!

Words: 2,707

This is incredibly based on the song The Willow Maid by Erutan, I highly recommend giving it a listen for the best experience.

Warnings: Cursing, reader is She/Her and will be AFAB in later chapters, angst, reader is manhandled and locked up, Katsuki is hurting, reader is hurting

The air left your body as you let out a reflexive yelp, big bubbles leaving your mouth in groups as your vision was reduced to the bright light of the moon refracted through the gleaming multicolored water. Whoever grabbed you had a strong grip, their nails digging into your skin as you tried to pull away, water filling your lungs as you attempted to gasp for air. tears flowed from your eyes, mixing into the freshwater around you like grains of sand in a desert.

You were so close. So, so, close.

You had been dragged through the portal, and before you knew it your were clawing your way up to the bank of your own stream, any and all excess water leaving your system as you laid on the shore, taking deep breaths. You quickly sat up, wanting to face your captor.

There your mother was, hair hanging sopping wet before her face, eyes containing a gleam of unfiltered anger you hadn't seen from her in so, so long. Her midnight blue column dress clung to her body, and as she trudged over to you, getting dryer and dryer, her levels of lethal elegance seemed to grow.

"After all that has happened," she started, her voice just barely above a whisper, heels panging against the ground as you scooted back and away from her, her eyes never leaving yours as she pushed her undone hair out of her face.

"You dare to return? To disrespect me? To disrespect the memory of your father?" her words grew in volume, before she towered over your physique. She grabbed a hold of your wrists, pulling you up to her face with all the intensity of a lioness hunting her prey. Gone was the sweet, gentle mask your mother wore daily, here was her in her true form.

Angry, volatile, deadly.

"I-I..." you stuttered, unable to come up with any sort of excuse.

"Enough," she spat, pulling you along the path you had traversed so many times before, perhaps for the last time. "You can forget about ever leaving my sights again," she snapped, her grip unrelenting.

"You...you can't be ser-"

"As the plague, (Y/n). You will stay in your room until the day of your wedding," she announced, dragging you through despite your heels digging into the ground in protest. She stopped for a moment, turning her head to glare at you, saying, "and if I hear another word from you tonight, you can expect to sleep in the dungeon. You're lucky enough to stay in your room, thank the stars for that."

You stayed silent, partially out of fear, partially out of bewilderment. You knew your mother was crazy, but you didn't know she was this crazy. How did she even find out? How could she have...

Ochako.

You did this. You let your guard down. You trusted someone blindly. Look where that got you.

The walk home was silent, save for your sniveling, and when you got to your room, you found it different from before. there was iron lining your room, rendering you magickless. You also noticed that when checking the depths of your closet, where you stashed your red dress and all of Katsuki's gifts, nothing was there. You had been robbed not only of Katsuki, but the memory of him.

As for your door, it was manned by two guards posted outside and an iron lock, something you hadn't experienced since you were a little rambunctious girl. You simply collapsed into bed, not bothering to change out of your dirty clothes or brush your hair or clean up. What was the point? You had nothing, you had no one, all you had was a sense of dread.

The next morning, there was a knocking at your door, before it creaked open. There Ochako was, a shameful frown on her face as she brought you some breakfast. "I...I had the chefs make your favorite..."

"Funny that only now you seem to care about what I want," you scoff, not bothering to turn over in bed to face her. "Eat it yourself."

"Listen, I didn't know she'd...I only did this because I thought..." Her voice waivered, and she took a deep breath. "We've known each other since we were girls, I only wanted what was best for you."

She was right, you have know each other since you were girls. You'll never forget the day you met, probably a year or two after your dad died, the day her parents got hired as servants and she moved into the maid's quarters. The two of you played together in the garden, any game you could play you did. You liked to expose her to all the luxuries she hadn't ever previously seen, and she liked to show off all the skills she acquired that you were never taught, like sewing and fixing broken toys.

Eventually, her parents got too old to work, and she began to work to support them, becoming your handmaid. You've been through so much together, through thick and thin. She was your best friend, and you were hers, and yet here you were. betrayed.

"Great. Thanks. You can go now."

She sighed and set down the tray of food, leaving it on your dresser, before walking out and gently shutting the door behind her. Locking it.

For the next 5 days, you did nothing but cry, hardly eating, hardly moving, just laying there and crying. Ochako kept bringing you food, and you kept shutting her out. Then, on the sixth day, something clicked. You were hopeless because you thought you had no choices, but truly, even without your magic, you had opportunities. Opportunities like that stained glass window.

You started by "accidentally" spilling food onto your sheets. Then, when ochako came in to give you lunch, you asked for a second set and for her to fetch another maid. She did so, and you asked the same of that maid. And the next one. And the next one. By the end of it, you had 8 sets of king sized sheets, including the one that had the spill. You took those sheets and made a rope, tying the ends together and checking routinely to be sure it was sturdy.

You were getting the hell out of here.

Meanwhile, Katsuki had spent his week studying. All he did was study, studied politics, studied battle strategy, studied science, studied math. Anything but think of you. He hadn't left the vast palace in days, he hadn't gone outside, he hadn't tended to Versengen, he hadn't talked to Kirishima besides ordering him to get more books and paper for him.

His usually bellicose nature had been amplified, any conversation lasting longer than a second or two cause Katsuki to lash out at anyone and everyone around him.

He spent his evenings staring out the window, daring to look past the wall at that well trodden path he had so desperately wanted to see you walk out of, to see you run to him and apologize and swear to stay with him forever. He knew that was a fever dream, you were probably getting married as he sat there, unable to do anything...Maybe he should go, maybe he should go and enter your world, just to force you to come back to him.

He hated this feeling of nervousness, he was so angry and ready to do something, but for once his common sense wasn't on his side. He couldn't rationalize this one, he just had to sit here and cry into the dead of night, not a sound leaving him, his words instead leaving through his tear ducts.

He needed you.

The time was 11:58 AM, when you were sure everyone would be asleep, your plan ready to be set into motion. You anxiously watched the giant clock in the center of the city, viewable from your window, the second hand ticking by, the pendulum swinging. That was the thing about Gildflå, Every city contained a clock with a big bell dangling in the center. No matter the time of day or night, there was always someone ready to ring that bell to mark the hour. You were counting on it.

You brought your sheet rope closer, taking a second to tie one end to your sturdy vanity. By the time you had finished you were 5 seconds from midnight.

4...

3...

2...

The bell rang, the first loud ding of the night. You rammed your side into the window, holding your head back so you wouldn't get a concussion. Another ring, again you slammed into the window. And again. And again. And again. You threw yourself into that blue window as many times as the bell rang, and each time you felt as if you were getting closer to freedom. One last time, and...

the door creaked open. You whipped around, to see Ochako's shocked face, carrying a tray with cookies and milk. The tray clattered out of her hands, her expression unreadable as she took a couple steps back. "Ururaka..." you whispered, your eyes a silent plea. She rushed out, shutting the door behind her.

"No," you shrieked, running after her. You collapsed to the ground halfway to the door, reduced to a bundle of tears. It was over. No way you'd be able to make it anywhere once she told everyone.

You cried pitiful tears into your hands for who knows how long, before the door swung open once more. You looked up, ready to accept your fate, when you were greeted with the sight of Ururaka bounding in, sliding to her knees before you with a bundle of red in her hands.

She quickly and silently grabbed your basket from the table, unravelling the mass of red fabric. It was your dress, wrapped around a couple of healing potions and a loaf of bread. "Ochako," you started, watching her frantically stuff the bread and potions into your basket.

"Shh, there's no time," she whispered, handing you the dress. You quickly and obediently slipped it on over your baby blue nightgown, Nothing but confusion adorning your face. The second you were ready she lifted you to your feet, handing you your basket.

"The guards will wake up any minute," she muttered, grabbing your hand, running you out the door and to the window you always escaped out of. She put the guards to sleep? You saw them slouched over as you ran past, snoozing. That must have taken a lot out of her, she wasn't nearly as powerful as you were, given her status. "I...I thought you...Why...?"

"Like I said. I only want what's best for you," she panted, swinging the window open for you. You moved to jump out, but stopped as you sat on the windowsill. "I...come with me! You can stay with me, we can live there together," you offered, grabbing her hands.

She smiled, tears welling in her eyes, before she shook her head. "My life is here. I have a family, my parents...You can go, you should go. Life will be better for you there."

"I'll miss you, please," you whimpered, bringing her into a tight hug. Despite the mistakes she's made, she was your best friend. You loved her, like a sister.

She hugged you back, with all the strength she could muster, before whispering, "I'll miss you too. Don't forget about me." Then, she pushed you. You fell from the window as if you were in slow motion, her face contorted into a bittersweet smile as tears streamed from her face. you reached out to her, your dress flowing around you like the wings of a bird, golden shimmer drifting from your fingers to her as your magic returned to you. You landed in the hippogriff down, staring up at her with a bewildered expression. "Go," she shouted, before clasping her hands over her mouth. "Hey," you heard a voice shout, a guard, and she ran out of your view.

Go, Ochako. Run.

A guard peered down at you from the window, and you wasted no time climbing out of the hippogriff fluff, taking a second to flip him off, and climb up the wall. You could hear him and another jump out after you, and you could hear the doors outside open. A quick glance behind your shoulder told you that at least 6 guards were chasing you now. You jumped from the wall, and from there you ran. You ran like you would die if you stopped, because you just might. Not in body, but in soul. The wind seemed to carry you, pushing you forward as your angel sleeves acted like sails, your feet barely touching the ground. "

"Stop right there!" "Get her!" "Don't let her get to the water!"

You just kept running, looking back might be the end for you. You felt a hand grab at the back of your dress, but before it could pull you back, the person it was attached to tripped on a root. The forest, like always, was on your side. You kept going, the river in sight. A bird whizzed past you, and from the sound of it, said bird attacked a man.

You only turned around when you reached the river, facing the group of armed guards as they all dove towards you. You turned back around and balanced on the slippery rocks leading to the portal, the rainbow mushrooms never before looking so comforting. You jumped in, swimming in what was now the river in the Circle. You were almost there when a hand grabbed at your ankle, yanking you back down.

Not this time.

You looked down and kicked, getting the hand off...but destroying the mushrooms in the process. The portal was closed. forever.

You couldn't think about that right now, you had to get to the surface. You pulled yourself onto shore, spluttering before the water left you. You had no time to run, you had to get to Katsuki now. You were going to teleport, for real this time. Your body warmed, your heart swelled, as as you dettached from the earth glitter rained from your figure. It was as if a symphony of love and hope lifted you, and when your feet hit the floor, it was within the Forrmidūl palace dining room.

You ran around aimlessly, not knowing where to go as the only place inside you had been was the dining room. Walking through the halls, you found Kirishima, and you've never been happier to. "Where's Katsuki," you demanded, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Uh...in his room...? How did you-"

"Thanks, take me there, please?"

"...Sure," he finally sighed, a small smile on his face.

You were standing just before his bedroom door now, panicking a little as tears welled up in your eyes. Kiri had left you alone to give you time and space together, but now you just felt silly.

You had to get it together. You gently knocked on the door, preparing your big speech in your head, but the last thing you expected was for Katsuki to shout, "Fuck off!"

You should have known, that was just like him...still, his voice was music to your ears, a nostalgic song that made your stomach do flips.

Instead of saying anything, you just knocked again. Like an idiot. Who does that?

Finally, you heard him stand, stomping to the door.

"Katsuki, I'm so sorry, It'll never happen again," you started in your head, before the door slowly creaked open. There he was. The man that looked like the sun. Golden hair. Ruby red eyes. That muscular body. The love of your life.

You opened your mouth, but words escaped you as you took in his wide eyes.

All that emerged was a choking sob.

You reached for him, so afraid that he'd push you away, but found no resistance. You held him tight, like you might never hold him again, because you've learned how precious he is.

"I fought for this," was all you could manage to say between silent sobs.

He brought his arms around you, slowly, tightly, and you felt tears drip onto your scalp as he pressed his lips to your hair.

"Good."

Ahhhh let me know your thoughts! I hope I'm not drowning you guys in content, I just really love this series.

Taglist: @sky-angel101 @the-galaxy-fiend @chixkadee @ssplague @sappho-the-kitten-tamer@andysdrafts@daria-rona @tanjirofan63 @aizawaslut09 @tsukiiomii @me1297

[edupunkn00b]

Prince Hollywood and the Silver Serpent

Written (very late) for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange for @prince-rowan-of-the-forest. Thank you for your patience as I struggled through the edits for this little Roceit Superhero/Supervillain tale. Rated: G - WC: 5147 ~

Torchlight flickered through the third floor windows at the National Archives secured repository. A little after midnight, it was well-past visitor hours for the display levels and only museum staff were permitted on the upper level. Easily visible from the front gardens, the lights danced, announcing the presence of ne'er-do-wells skulking about in the dark museum.

That was the thieves' second mistake.

Their first mistake was daring another break-in attempt so soon after the smash and grab at the Natural History museum last week. And right in the heart of Prince Hollywood's own city.

It would be their last.

Prince Hollywood leapt up from the bushes where he'd been watching the building, cape fluttering in the damp spring wind. He landed softly on the open windowsill—likely how the burglars got in—and slipped inside. Three people, dressed head to toe in black, bustled about near the shelves housing the Southern Ignots. One turned, his profile revealing the ornate voice changer curled over his neck and mouth. The Silver Serpent! Hollywood might've guessed there was only one villain in this city audacious enough to attempt this break-in.

Cast in shadow, the Serpent didn't see him and he returned his attention to the large crate his henchmen carried to the door.

"Freeze!" Hollywood shouted.

The Serpent's lackeys froze on the spot, but glowing yellow eyes turned to him, the rest of his face illuminated with his torch's glow.

"I knew it was you behind these thefts, you… you fiend!"

"Carry on," the Serpent muttered, flicking his torch toward the door.

"Halt!" Hollywood shouted, but they continued.

The Serpent crossed his arms, torch pointed down at over-polished shoes. "Or…" he prompted, laughter in his voice.

Hollywood slid out of the shadows, letting the cold moonlight shine on the emblem on his chest. "We'll see who's laughing when you're on your way to prison, you snake!" He stepped closer. "Your dastardly deeds are ov—" Too late, he felt a shimmer near his ankle. Before he could react, something—a rope, perhaps?—dusted in gallium tightened on his calf and hauled him up in the air.

He hung, spinning slowly, nearly six feet above the floor.

Laughing, the Serpent approached. "It looks like you're the one who's over, your Highness."

"My name is Prince," he hissed through gritted teeth. He tried to curl up, stretching with weakened muscles to tug at the binding on his leg. After a few attempts, he went slack, gravity too much to fight. Definitely gallium. And a lot of it.

"Besides, prison is where convicts go," the Serpent continued as though Hollywood hadn't spoken. He walked a slow circle around the hanging superhero, torchlight bouncing with each jaunty step. He was enjoying this. One more item on the debt column for when he finally got out of this. "The last I heard, I was guaranteed to be considered innocent before proven guilty." The Serpent chuckled, tapping Hollywood's cheek with two gloved fingers. "Your Highness, I believe you meant to say jail."

His proximity to the rare metal left his skin feeling paper thin, the friction of the rope around his leg burning. But the Serpent's touch was gentle, his gloves soft as he traced just under the edge of the mask concealing his identity. Shaking off the Serpent's hand, he growled back, "Let me down, you fiend!"

"Temper, temper, your Highness," he tutted, removing his hand. "All in good time."

They both looked up at at a soft cough from the hall. Another of his henchmen stood watching, this one dressed in a black suit covered with a long white lab coat. The Chemist! Since when were they working together?

"We've located the last of the artifacts in the basement reliquary," he said, clipped words sounding more like a robot than ever before. Hollywood craned his neck and spotted a bit of the same voice-changing circuitry the Serpent wore. Damn. "Ready when you are."

"Excellent work," he said and the Chemist disappeared from Hollywood's view. The Serpent turned again to Hollywood. Head tilted, he sighed. "I regret this is the time for us to take our leave, your Highness."

He tried again to reach the rope twisted around his leg but succeeded only in getting a bit of the gallium dust on his fingers, numbing his hand. He fell back and scowled at the Serpent. "The museum's antiquities collection is worth more to the city than whatever you can sell it for. Surely even a thief such as yourself must know that."

"Oh, you would be surprised at who else wants this collection," the Serpent purred, nudging his shoulder. The light touch sent him into a slow spin. "There are some who'd pay through the nose at auction for some of these pieces."

"And you'll keep the rest of the 'loot' for yourself, I suppose?" Hollywood spat, eyes closed against a growing dizziness.

"Really now, your Highness. How little you know me," he huffed. "I'm an autumn. I only wear gold. All of this collection will go to those who want it most."

The spinning stopped and Hollywood cracked open his eyes, glaring back. "Only a terror like you would deprive the world of priceless cultural artifacts all so you can make a tidy profit!"

The Serpent made a show of examining his nails through his gloves then hummed, "Yes. You're right about that. Well, this had been fun, but all good things, etc., etc.," he said, waving his hand vaguely. He looked just past Hollywood's shoulder and nodded. Twisting, Hollywood spotted the hulking figure heading toward him too slowly to dodge and the last thing he saw was a large, green-gloved hand covering his mouth.

~

Hollywood came to sprawled on a pile of coats on the floor of the museum check room. He jolted upright—too fast—and slumped back against the wall. Fuzzy words, Lost and Found floated before his eyes and he grunted. The Serpent's joke wasn't very funny.

Panic shot through his veins at the thought of that two-toned terror and he reached for his mask. Still firmly in place. Surely that devil took a peek while he was unconscious? He tugged at the edges, spirit gum still perfectly sealed. Unless the Serpent completed all of his robberies with a bottle of the stuff in his pocket, he'd left his mask undisturbed.

Which was more than he could say for the museum's antiquities collection. Even one crate was too much for him to have gotten away with, adding on to whatever the Chemist had found… Hollywood shook his head. Whatever they'd found they'd need to sell to make the theft worth it. Perhaps there was still a chance he could track them through the art markets.

Pushing up to his feet, Hollywood was surprised to feel his full strength returned. His suit leg was damp and clean… They'd actually taken the time to wash away any lingering dust from their rope. This really was just a big game to him, wasn't it?

The night sky outside was still mostly dark, with pink blooming in the east. He couldn't be spotted here. Wincing in anticipation of screeching emergency alarms, he pushed his way through the nearest exit. Nothing. Blinking in surprise at the bar, he spotted a bit of wire poking out, the edge smooth and freshly cut. So that's how they'd got in. Shoulders slumped, he made his way to a clear spot and took off for home.

Without a sound, Hollywood touched down on the roof and thumbed the lock on the emergency door. Without the cape and mask, feigning paranoia over stalker fans had made it easy to convince the property manager to install it just after his big break. Before then, he'd left the door unlocked, reliant on old spy tricks and a nerve-wracking level of vigilance each time he returned home.

A close call ten years ago taught him to leave all signs of his secret identity at home. Flying in the skies mean flying without any trappings of his human-appearing life. No keys, no wallet. No phone. When he was young, he'd thought he could keep that little rectangle of plastic and glass safe.

He'd been wrong.

The door locked behind him and he slumped back against it. He sighed as microwave's clock ticked over to 5:00. Damn. He was due at his new manager's office by 10 tomorrow, well, this morning. Just enough time for a shower and a couple hours of sleep. It would be enough. It had to be. He'd already rescheduled this introductory session three times and no matter how much this Mr. Jack said he wanted to represent him, surely his patience had begun to run a little thin.

~

One small, surreptitious flight later, Hollywood made it to his new manager's office with thin seconds to spare. After double checking his hair in a stairwell mirror, he took a deep breath then, shoulders back and smile at the ready, slipped into his actor persona. Tugging open the heavy oak door, he admired the polished gold lettering, J. Jack & Associates. At least he was in the right place.

"I'd know that face anywhere." A low, smooth voice greeted him from the other side. "Roman Reyes." Tall, with soft brown eyes and a smirk that said he knew more about you than you wanted him too, his brother's old college roommate approached, hand outstretched. "It's so good to see you again!"

Head whipping back over his shoulder as though he could read the lettering on the door through the wood—he could, but Janus didn't know that—Hollywood blinked back at him. "You—you changed your name."

Laughing, Janus gave his hand a little squeeze as they shook. "'Janus Sokrovishche' doesn't quite roll off the tongue the same way," he smiled. "But we all make concessions with our names in this business, don't we?"

Hollywood could get lost in those eyes. Up close, he spotted flecks of gold and three different shades of brown behind impossibly long lashes. Janus hadn't let go of his hand and was now practically holding it, gently sandwiched between his own. Janus seemed to notice at the same moment and he slowly lowered his hands and released it.

He mourned the loss more than he should, reminding Hollywood yet again of all the reasons he'd kept his distance from his brother's flirtatious roommate all those years ago.

"Well," Janus said, smirk returning. "Let's get comfortable in my office while we go over the new contract. Virgil?" he called without dropping his gaze.

His last manager's assistant popped in from the a doorway on the left. "Yeah boss? Oh, Roman! Glad you finally made it!"

"What are—" Hollywood shook his head, looking between them. "Since when do you work for Mr. Jack?"

"If you saw what he was paying me, you'd understand," Virgil drawled.

"Indeed," Janus murmured, drawing back Hollywood's attention. His eyes were still on him, scanning his features like they held some secret. They did, but Janus had no reason to know that. "Virgil, will you order us some coffees from downstairs? Get one for yourself, too. We've got a lot of work ahead of us." It was only when he winked that Hollywood noticed the deep shadows through Janus' artfully applied make up.

"You got it," Virgil said, giving them each a little two-fingered salute. "Back in a bit."

Alone together, Janus' crooked smile softened and he pushed open another heavy oak door, this one simply labelled J. Jack. "Please come in."

The office inside was even larger than the lobby. Centered before the giant floor-to-ceiling window stood a massive wooden desk, polished until it gleamed. It was spotless, adorned with only a built-in computer monitor, a fountain pen stand, and a small antique-looking globe. The overstuffed leather chair behind it looked more like a throne, high-backed and commanding. Surprisingly, the visitor's chair Janus ushered him into, though smaller, was comfortable and kept him at eye-level with Janus when he took his own seat.

"Do you hear from your brother much?" Janus asked, opening a drawer behind the desk and pulling out a leather-bound portfolio.

"Oh, well, this morning, actually," Hollywood shrugged. "He's backpacking… out near Lima. But, yes, he called me." The sight of his not-quite-twin's number on his caller ID had been a pleasant surprise. The relief in his brother's voice when he'd picked up an even greater one. He'd covered quickly with a raunchy joke about staying up too late with his latest conquest, but… Remus had sounded genuinely happy to hear he was alright.

"Excellent," Janus nodded, something warmer than he'd expected behind his eyes. Clearing his throat, he opened the portfolio and turned it to face Hollywood. "Shall we begin?"

~

They'd barely begun to review when Virgil returned with their coffees—and a small sweet-smelling tray.

"Once Pat heard who was up here," Virgil had smiled, shaking his head, "He insisted I bring up some cookies and sandwiches."

Janus and Virgil exchanged a look that Hollywood couldn't quite read. Was he concerned about the cost? He glanced around the office. Gold fountain pen, leather chairs, well-equipped bar where the entire thing was top shelf. Unlikely.

He looked back and found Janus' eyes on him. Ah. No, he's just like his old manager and concerned about his diet. Hollywood tilted his head, wondering the best way to explain his non-human physiology made it easy to maintain an inhuman physique for the cameras.

"Have you eaten?" Janus asked, indicating the tray as Virgil set a coffee next to him. Two milks, just the way he liked it.

Hollywood gave them his best autograph-line smile. "I take care of the vessel," he winked. "You needn't worry about that." Nodding at the contract between them. "I trust you have a clause in there to cover it."

Janus frowned and looked back at him with narrowed eyes. He exchanged one more look with Virgil, who silently excused himself with another little salute. Bringing his own cup—tea, by the herby-scent of it—Janus sauntered around the desk and took the chair next to him.

"You should not 'trust' me with anything until you've read the contract," he said, setting a large sandwich and two cookies in front of Hollywood before taking a sandwich for himself. "I suspect you'll find I don't work the way your former manager did." Janus smiled at him then, soft. Warm.

Hollywood swallowed hard, unable to break away from his gaze. He didn't want to.

"Here," he said after a moment, passing Hollywood a napkin. "Let us break bread like civilized people and then go through our new contract."

They spent hours pouring over every page. Without any visible prompt from Janus, Virgil returned mid-day through with tea and a tray of finger foods. Finally, cups and minds drained, they reached the final page.

Hollywood read it three times before he finally asked. "This says I can end our contract at any time without cause but you need to provide me written notice a year in advance." He frowned at Janus. "Am I interpreting this correctly?" His last contract had been 'at will.' With an N.D.A.

"You're reading it correctly." That little smile was back. Not a smirk, not a leer. Not even starstruck. Just... Gentle. Real.

"That hardly seems fair to you," Hollywood looked back at the contract. What had he missed?

"I get paid when you get paid," Janus explained as he signed the contract with a flourish. "This only incentives me to be sure you are happy with the work you do that pays the both of us." He offered him the pen, eyebrow raised.

Hollywood accepted the pen, weighing it in his hand. The nib was gold, as was most of the barrel. Wordlessly, he signed above the printed name, Roman Reyes.

"Excellent," Janus murmured, offering his hand to shake. Smooth and a little cool, his hand curled around Hollywood's just right. "I'll get a copy and you retain the originals. Then we can discuss your goals and—“

After a quick knock, the door opened and Virgil stuck his head through. "Hey, Boss?" Janus looked up, sharp. But not annoyed. Curious.

"That guy from Sotheby's is on line three for you," he said, pointing to the flashing light on his—silenced?—desk phone.

Sotheby's?

The auction house had been on the short list of places to watch for the stolen artifacts. He caught Janus watching him, waiting for him to politely excuse himself, perhaps?

"I should let you take that," he said, rising from his seat. "I can return tomorrow, perhaps... in the afternoon?" He might be in for another late night.

"That would be most helpful," Janus said with a little bow even as he reached for the gold-trimmed receiver. "I appreciate your kindness. Virgil will confirm a time with you."

~

The remainder of his visit ended in a flurry of scheduling interspersed with several phone calls. "Yes... Yes, it's not a rumor." Virgil winked at him and Hollywood suddenly felt less bad for listening. "Mr. Reyes is now exclusively represented by J. Jack. Mr. Jack has an opening next week..."

Hollywood turned to leave but Virgil gently tugged his sleeve. "Just a moment," he mouthed, phone tucked between his ear and shoulder as he clicked and tapped one-handed on his computer.

As Hollywood waited, his eyes darted over to the inner office door, where Janus' conversation had grown louder.

"Tomorrow morning at ten works for me." Hollywood didn't need to see him—his new manager—to envision the way his lips curled as he spoke. "And it's for the entire lot? No piecemeal?"

Janus' voice paused, listening. After a moment, he chuckled. "Very good. I will be there tomorrow."

"So tomorrow night?" Phone call finished, Virgil sat with his hands folded on the desk and smiled up at him.

Cheeks aflame, Hollywood realized he's been caught eavesdropping. "Wha—I..." He drew in a slow breath and smiled. "Are you asking me out?"

"Oh, no," Face dusted an adorable pink, Virgil laughed. "Nah, Boss Man would have my head for that." He jerked a thumb toward Janus' office. "In case Mr. Jack's other plans go long, will you be available tomorrow night for a dinner meeting?"

Hollywood's eyes flicked over to the still-closed office door. A take-the-lot auction was guaranteed to garner a lower price than selling each item individually, no matter the skill and prestige of the auction house. It would also be undeniably faster.

It sounded precisely like the kind of trade off someone who was desperate to dump stolen goods and get out of the country before they were caught. Tomorrow morning at ten… Hollywood might not yet know what his night looked like, but he certainly knew what he'd be doing tomorrow morning. If the Silver Serpent's theatrics were any indication, he'd likely be in attendance at tomorrow's auction.

And so would Hollywood.

"Tomorrow night looks like it's going to be wide open." He gave Virgil his best grin and leaned in close. "Say… you wouldn't happen to know where that Sothesby's auction is going to be, would you?"

~

Dressed in a rose-red blazer and slim-cut turtleneck, Prince Hollywood ducked past the winding valet line outside the auction hall and down the alley to the staff entrance. He flashed a grin—and a fifty—to the porter out for a smoke and he waved him in through the propped open door. The previous night's patrol had been unusually quiet, granting him a better night's rest than he'd had since the start of this nasty string of museum robberies. The extra sleep plus the tantalizing promise of finally apprehending the Silver Serpent put an extra pep in his step and soon he'd woven his way through the maze of greyspace out to the central auction hall. He selected a seat near the back, his other-wordly height advantage providing him a vantage of the room's entire occupants.

"Welcome one and all," the auctioneer began as soon as Hollywood sat. "We have something special for you today, a full lot of Incan antiquities, certified to date from fifteenth through sixteenth century South America. the collection is valued at well over five point five million dollars." A thick hush fell over the gathering, and a Ken and Barbie-type couple sat near the front and dressed in coordinated suits nodded to each other.

Janus was in the second to last row, watching them. It didn't look like he'd noticed Hollywood, and he didn't look in his direction.

"Included in the lot is this silver totem depicting Huari and Inti…" His assistant lifted several engraved silver pieces nestled on a black velvet tray. "These are the only known specimens in the world."

"Shall we start the bidding at one point five?" Like leaves rustling in a breeze, the auction paddles remained low, but ready as their holders waited for the number to drop. "One point four?" The auctioneer prompted, looking pointedly at Janus before scanning the crowd for any takers. "One point three-five?"

The interested couple shifted and, for a moment, Hollywood was convinced the man had looked over his shoulder directly at Janus. But he made no move to bid.

"One point two?" The auctioneer's confidence began to slip. "One point one, then."

"Half," Janus said, voice quiet but carrying throughout the hall.

"Sir, the bid is at one point one," the auctioneer insisted, addressing Janus with eyes beseeching the crowd. No-one would meet his eyes. "Anyone?" he said, gavel twitching for a moment before he quietly laid it on its side. "These artifacts would be the centerpiece of any collection. Never exhibited. Absolutely priceless and revered by the Chechua of the Andes."

The attendees sat in silence, a few risking a glance back at Janus. Every paddle remained flat on the holder's lap, hands folded primly over top.

"Half going once?" The auctioneer eyed the gathering, pleading with his eyes. He hadn't even picked up the gavel. Swallowing hard, he called slowly, "Half going twice?"

Janus smiled, one eyebrow cocked.

The auctioneer swallowed hard—hard enough for Hollywood's hyper-sensitive ears to pick up—and picked up his gavel. "And sold!" he cried with a soft bang. "For half a million dollars to Mr. J. Jack."

Janus stood then and nodded to the auctioneer. Smiling at the room, he straightened his lapel, the gold threading glinting under the hall's old-fashioned chandelier. Then he turned and looked right at Hollywood. Inclining his head with another of his soft smiles, he winked at him, then left.

The room erupted in hurried whispers as the attendees followed Janus' gaze and saw him, Roman Reyes, quietly attending a Sotheby's auction. A few attendees sporting bright orange Press passes muttered urgently into their recording devices. Another swapped lenses on his camera.

Hollywood slipped out before any had the gumption to approach him.

~

A handful of news outlets picked up breathless reports of his attendance at the invite-only auction, but his appearance was quickly eclipsed by Janus' announcement of his intent to donate the entire lot to the Chechua Historical society, an indigenous-owned and controlled not-for-profit that sought to repatriate artifacts stolen from their ancestral lands.

A single news report hinted of speculation the Sotheby's auction might have been related to the recent spate of museum break-ins, but even that article's use of the words 'allegedly' and 'coincidental' dismissed the connection as pure happenstance.

Hollywood was unconvinced.

"You're quite newsworthy this afternoon," Hollywood remarked when Janus invited him into his office.

"Oh, I am?" he smiled, laughter in his voice. "What could I have done that is more newsworthy than signing you as a client?" He gestured at one of the overstuffed armchair on the other side of his office, two steaming cups of tea already sitting on the low table between them.

Hollywood chuckled. He hadn't missed that each article he'd read had ended with an announcement that he had just finished contract negotiations with Roman Reyes, leading man and star of the three upcoming feature films. Virgil hadn't even looked up when he'd entered, fielding a seemingly never-ending stream of phone calls.

"Was that all this is?" Hollywood asked. "A publicity stunt? You know…" Thrumming his fingers, he inched forward in his seat. While revealing his true identity was out of the question, he couldn't allow his new manager—or his brother's friend—to become ensnared in the Silver Serpent's nefarious deeds. Even tangentially. Even if Janus had somehow managed to find a positive outcome. "I read an article these artifacts might not have been obtained legally."

Picking up his own tea, Janus traced the gilt flowers adorning the delicate handle for a long moment before speaking. "They had not," he said, thoughtful. "Not originally. The Incan Silvers are five thousand miles away from their home. By winning that auction, I can play a tiny part in getting them into the proper owners' hands." He sipped at his tea and smiled. "If I am able to use that to gain a little publicity for you in return, is that really so bad?"

"But…" Uncertainty, sharp and unfamiliar, stabbed at his gut and he sat up a little straighter. "The museum that owned them—"

"How do you suppose those artifacts got to that museum in the first place?" Janus set down his tea and leaned closer, brushing his fingers over the back of Hollywood's hand. His hand was warm and Hollywood looked down, briefly tempted to flip his own hand around and grab on to it before he could pull away.

Seeming to read his thoughts, Janus' hand lingered over his, resting over top. A shiny gold band dotted with bright yellow citrines adorned his index finger. It matched the gold stud in his left ear. Gold.

'I'm an autumn. I only wear gold. All of this collection will go to those who want it most.'

Hollywood's heart thudded in his ears and he pushed to his feet. "You!"

Nodding slowly, Janus rose. "Yes?" He met Hollywood's eyes, still calmly smiling.

"You're the Silver Serpent?" He stepped back, shins hitting the chair.

"Who?" Janus—the Serpent—asked, one hand pressed to his chest. "I can't possibly know who you mean." He titled his head, smile growing. "Your Highness."

"You fiend!" Hollywood hissed, eyes darting to the door separating them from Virgil. He had to get the other man out of the Serpent's clutches. "I can't believe I almost fell for your—"

"Now, Roman, calm down," the Serpent murmured. He approached, slowly, with both hands up. Like Hollywood was some spooked horse on set.

Eyes now locked on the Serpent, he slid away from the seat and stepped backwards toward the door. "Don't try to talk your way out of this, I'll—"

"Hey, Boss," Virgil called through the door just before it opened. "You have a—"

"Virgil, run!" Hollywood called and rushed toward him, scooping him up as he dashed to the elevators.

"Ro! Put me down right now!" Virgil snapped, whacking his shoulder until he set him back on his feet. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You don't know who he is!" Hollywood moved his body between Virgil and the Serpent. "I'm getting you out of here!"

"What?" Face scrunched in confusion, he shook his head. "What are you talk—"

"He knows." The Serpent's voice rose above their bickering.

Hollywood's heart sank to his feet as Virgil moved to the Serpent's side. "It's about time."

"No," he muttered, leaning back against the elevator buttons. "No, he's gotten to you?"

"Ro," Virgil began, stepping closer and reaching for him. "Hear him out. He's—"

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Hollywood backed inside and slapped the 'close doors' button. He pressed every floor and then, before they could guess where he'd gotten off, he pushed up through the emergency hatch and out of the elevator shaft.

He had to figure out his next steps.

~

Hollywood kept to the rooftops, leaping between the taller structures through a winding path to one of his less-traveled safe houses. The Serpent knew his address. He couldn't return there. Finally, he arrived, three miles south of his home and five miles north of the Serpent's office. He let himself in, locked the door, and drew the shades before flicking on the light. He'd just sat down when his phone rang. His heart sang when he saw the caller ID.

"How's it hangin' Ro Bro?" The phone crackled with Remus' laughter. "Ya miss me yet?"

"Ha! You wish!" he laughed back, not quite as brightly as he'd wanted. Right now, he wanted his brother as far from this mess as he could manage. "The thin air up in the Andes must be—"

The Andes. The Andes?! The stolen artifacts were originally from the Andes.

Hollywood sank down into a chair and the phone slipped from his grip, landing with a quiet thud at his feet.

"Ro? Ro! C'mon, man!" Re's tinny voice spilled from the earpiece, distant and echoing.

No. No no no no, no! Re couldn't be all mixed up in this. He'd tried so hard to shield his human brother from his second life, his real life. Over twenty years, he'd never revealed his secret, cheated and snuck around, feigned weakness. Lied when Re found that old baby photo from before he'd arrived. Before he'd joined their family.

"Ro?" A pounding on the door drew Hollywood from his spiral. Re's voice wasn't coming from the phone anymore. "Ro! Lemme in!"

Moving automatically, Hollywood's feet took him to the door. He opened it without looking.

Backpack slung over his shoulder, Re stood on the doorstep. Flanked by Janus and the cheerful little barista from his favorite coffee shop. "Hey, Ro Bro… Let's talk."

~

Spring came late to Sapporo the following year and Hollywood stood in the shadows beneath gently flowering sakura trees outside the capitol's art museum. In a cynical attempt at appeasement, the National Archives had launched a global tour of the Parthenon Marbles. Security at the first three cities had been airtight. Even his brother and his half-mad, half-genius partner had been unable to find a whole in the defenses at any of the first museums they visited.

It seemed to have led the last museum's curators to let down their guard.

The team's torches danced against darkened windows above Hollywood's head as he scanned the street for approaching peace officers, radio at the ready. The city was quiet. Not even the stray dogs were out this late.

"Your Highness?" His earpiece crackled, Janus' true voice wrapping around him like a blanket. "We're nearly done in here. How are things from where you're standing?"

Hollywood chuckled, eyes still sharp on the street. "Boring without you."

"I see." A low chuckle poured over the speaker. "We'll just have to see about that, won't we?"

[dailyanarchistposts]

SAFETY AS ILLUSION- DANGER AS FRACTURE

1. Connected to the maintenance of life as living death is the second promise of the walls of civilization, the promise of safety.

2. Safety is always illusionary, as the countless attentats, and ever changing airport security protocols reveal- yet its impositions are very solid. Take the traditional wall around a town or settlement (which offers the promise of 'protection from the outside threat- the barbarian); the wall can be undermined, scaled, even broken to pieces if one has time and motivation, it crumbles with age and without constant maintenance and can be bypassed simply by seducing the one who guards it. Yet, to the individual inside the wall, the towering mass of bricks seems both impenetrable and inescapable, and represents a very material disconnect from that which is outside (one cannot for example even see what is outside the walls).

3. Thus the illusion of safety, is stripped bare, not as a form of protection, but as a form of containment; only those who live inside the walls can be convinced of safeties impenetrability- anyone with will enough to exist beyond the walls can see the paper tiger for what it really is- a trap to prevent escape and not a defense against entry.

4. Todays walls are much more diffuse; produced on and in the psychic level in the schools and social relations, the walls are built up inside the minds of individuals who for so many generations have lived inside of them and now no longer need not to see the outside in order to be afraid of it.

5. The illusion of safety has permeated every aspect of daily life, what 'safety' means is never concretely defined; aside from the columns of foot-soldiers patrolling the streets and CCTV at every corner, there is no discursive definition of what it might mean to be 'safe' and no concrete description of what the danger really is.

6. Even radical milieus have adopted these logics, with demands for 'safe space', policies defining safety, and the imagining that one can create places or communities free from the 'dangers' of the outside world.

7. Safety is always premised in imaginary dangers- usually the dangers of the outside, the 'other', or most often mortality. In the name of being kept alive any number of repressive measures become normalized.

8. To assist or allow suicide is still illegal in most of the world[4], the cages of the mental hospitals and prisons are filled with individuals who present a 'danger' to the life of themselves or others.

9. The demand for safety, always walks hand in hand with the forces of domination. Be that tradition of Radical Feminism which demanded 'safer streets' for women against masked and racialized attackers (and resulted in huge police incursions into poor and racialized communities), or the push by LGBT charities for hate crime legislation to protect individuals from street harassment/harm (and which has been used as a 'catchall legislation' that sees vast increases in incarceration and penal punishments for as little as saying 'fuck' in a public space).[5]

10. A fitting example of the anthropocentric obsession with safety is the 'house cat'; a being for whom the entirety of its existence is passed within the confined walls of an apartment. Premised on the idea that the dangers of the outside world; getting lost, starving to death, being run over by a car- are so terrifying (from the human captors point of view) as to justify the ultimate cruelty and curtailment of freedom. The cat is kept entirely 'safe', in a sterile environment which cannot harm her; and yet can one say honestly that a being for whom long nights, restless hunts, a shrugging disregard for humanity are normal character traits- the four walls of a human made prison will bring her happiness?

11. The 'house cat' also serves as fitting analogy for our own lives- the masters of domination keep us safely contained in the cities, the workplace, the homes; and we may wriggle a little, excited by the promise of the gym or the swimming pool- but to go outside, truly outside of their world is not only forbidden but now impossible. We welcome the crushing wheels of the car or the neighbors dog to carry us away- danger signifies freedom.

12. Individuals oscillate between captor and captive as they internalize and reproduce the logic of safety. From the cop on the street corner, to the parent warning its children of the dangers of pedophiles, to the liberal queer askewing violent or confrontational action and enforcing passivity in the name of 'inclusivity'.

13. Individuals of this epoch must face the fact that nowhere is 'safe', and that anyone promising to provide safety is in fact only (re)producing captivity.

14. When entangled with the enforcers of safety- (the police or their representatives) one soon becomes aware, that the illusion of safety is not some absolute safety from harm, but some imagined parameter of safety defined by the apparatchiks and algorithms of domination.

15. When falling fowl of the enforces of safety, one quickly realities that their version of 'keeping you safe' in fact means keeping you under control, or more often saving you from imagined danger so that they can inflict their own very real harm upon you.

16. One can for example be stopped for driving the car too fast, for passing a red light too early, for trying to jump from a bridge, for exploring and abandoned warehouse, or for engaging in a physical confrontation, in all the examples the behavior will first been defined as 'dangerous' and the narrative usually follows "we are here to protect you". Naturally the moment one is in the hands of those enforcers of safety, she can expect to be beaten, tortured, confined in a cage, sexually assaulted, humiliated, bullied and harmed in any myriad of unnameable ways.

17. "Keeping you safe" is synonymous with maintaining the monopoly of danger, harm and violence.

18. It benefits domination to have as many imaginary dangers as possible at play in any given moment. The more, and scarier the dangers, the greater the playground for imagining ways to ensure 'safety'.

19. The ever increasing number of dangers which the civilized order is happy to integrate into its logic- be that the threat of terrorism, ecological disaster, petty crime, homophobia, gendered violence or racism justifies an ever increasing number of punishments, containments and cages.

20. In many 'liberal democracies' we see how the response to popular awareness of structural oppression has been to criminalize any individuals who are accused of perpetuating it (ignoring the reality that the state is always the biggest perpetrator). From hate crime legislation protecting 'oppressed minorities' to attempts to ban networks like tor (because thats where terrorists live) we see time and time again that the promise to keep us free from danger, warped into the very real application of harm.

21. The illusion of safety rests on a very fluid understanding or what and who represent danger. In the logic of domination, we are presented daily with the idea, that a heavily armed gang, enshrined with the right to murder, kidnap, rape, and torture (the police) are 'safe' and that some kid running a red light or walking whilst black represents danger.

22. This is further complicated by status's awarded to individuals based on presumed compliance/non compliance- the refugee is 'safe' the illegal immigrant is dangerous, the steel worker is 'safe' the sex worker is dangerous, the law abiding citizen is 'safe' the criminal is dangerous. The arbitrary awarding of the right to safety is in fact the real danger.

23. Such arbitrary awarding, mean that In the name of safety we have armed hooligans patrolling the streets with assault rifles- and one can go to jail for carrying a kitchen knife from store to homestead.

24. Anyone who believes, we are safe inside the walls is delusional at best and more likely suicidal.

25. Some 'good citizens' (white, rich, cis, hetro, law abiding) might be able to uphold the lie that they are safe inside the walls (even if they discount the toxic fumes and radio waves slowly annihilating them); but even they will be forced to admit their mistake when in the name of 'safety' they cannot leave their home cage except to go their (re)productive one.

26. More than all of this though, why do we need to be safe? Why have we allowed a fear of danger to incubate inside our minds and proliferate in our praxis? Do we even really know what we mean when we say we want to be safe? We are trapped in illusions curated by tyrants.

27. Safety might be illusionary, but danger can be very real. Not the imaginary dangers domination feeds its subjects in order to keep them servile- but the danger which domination itself lives in constant fear of.

28. To break from captivity, is to accept danger into ones life- not the false dangers which preclude safety; but the real dangers of active confrontation with those who claim to provide it (safety). Accepting real danger, means arming conflictuality against the state, the police, technology, pacifistic ideologues, and perhaps even oneself- it is the realization that even if nothing is worth dying/going to jail for, these possibilities are perhaps less terrifying than remaining safe (i.e. captive).

29. To perpetuate the illusion of safety, into every aspect of life is always the goal of domination, every time one arms conflictuality, imbues danger, creates fracture; safety will rush to plug the breach. Just as one has almost no chance of destroying civilization, there is little hope of destroying safety in its totality; one can chip away, and expand ruptures but one must always be prepared that the ruptures will create new forms, and enforcements of safety- the battle will be an endless one.

30. The fight against safety in and of itself, creates danger for the one who pursues it.

31. If one is to truly realize the illusion of safety, and from this realization act in order to destroy it; she must first welcome danger as a constant friend and companion.

32. Through the process of becoming dangerous, she must face the very real dangers inside the walls (repression, assault, murder), and open her heart to all the possible imaginary ones outside of them.

33. Domination will be at every door when one opens herself fully to danger. It will close tight ranks all around and try to force safety at any cost on the one who seeks it.

34. Danger must embody all the fear of the unknown, all the visceral terror of the lands outside the walls, it must plunge deep into the darkness and never shine a light.

35. If danger spreads, 'safety' will wither.

[pondering-pears]

The Gods Couldn’t Have Made You

Halsin x Tiefling Tav (Unfinished)

In a world full of cruelties, I was certain that you were merely an addition to their numbers. You walked into my life like one of Hell’s host, and to this day that is an image you wear like a cloak of pride against the eyes of those before you. 

I was imprisoned in that Goblin camp and you strode in, cloven hooves striking against stone in time with the rustling of the metal plates you hid your true form in. You were terrifying, a helmeted fiend with horns like an Rothe and eyes that burned through that dark desolate place. Gold, not of honey or sunsets, but a forge’s melting pot. 

You hated everything there, I could smell your wrath like a coming storm and I thought I knew the intentions of your heart. 

“Such dull stones will never cut its pelt.” Although your mask hid your lips, my mind could imagine how they pulled back into a sneer. The Goblins thought they knew you too, believing that one of their True Souls had come to join in their tormenting. The fact that their judgment aligned with my own should’ve been a sure sign of my folly. 

I knew then that I must fight although it would likely be my end, yet even in such a dire moment you were a distraction. You were so confident as you transfixed them that they didn’t even think to flinch as you grasped your flail. I have seen so much violence in my life, yet rarely was it inflicted with the certainty you possessed. 

You had made this choice long before I could even comprehend your existence. 

Your taste in comrades was well chosen for the task of annihilation, and even as I pushed my weakened form into the fray there was little for me to do. You were everything your appearance promised, blunt unrelenting brutality. Yet where you laid one low you in turn dragged an ally back towards life. It was safe to say that you were the sort of fighter I had rarely seen, healer in one hand and brute in the other. 

I caught you there in the middle of it, above it all a shield, although you’d forever deny such a title. I did not love you then, how could I, but it was the first seed. 

“If you are a literal bear, you will be carrying all of these blades back to the Grove.” In hindsight you must’ve thought yourself rather clever with that, but at the time it was another hot iron against my aching heart. 

“You speak of the Grove, did they send you?” In spite of my temper, my age had taught me a level head with adventures like you would always serve us better. 

“I think if Kagha knew that I was here to fetch you she’d have quite the fit.” You spat her name like a serpent’s poison and rid yourself of your helmet so that I could see the true rage on your face. “First, I am going to crush the last one of these True Souls, second you are going to go back to the Grove and get your bitch in line, then finally you are going to get this worm out of my head.” 

You reminded me then something as old as the scars on my heart, the devotion of the gods I had once fought. It should’ve filled me with fear, and in part it did, but I saw then the priority of your wrath. The wildest part of me was glad to  know that the defenseless was first in your heart. 

“I have been away too long, there is much to set right, I see.” I’d tried to calm your fire, but as often man does, I only breathed air into your hearth. “I will be hard to smuggle about, if you wish I can remain here-”

“Oh, this cup will not pass for your lips.” Your sneer was almost a smile then. “Come, there is work to do.” 

~~~

“Is that to be all of her punishment?” You had come too far to hide your displeasure from anyone, lest of all me. 

“She will learn-” The beach side path we walked together was now a battlefield drawn up between us. Your each step threw up sand from the shear force of your body moving through this world. An inferno raging through the brush land, a column of fire in the wilderness scorching all that dared to stand in your path. 

Your conviction was more impressive to me now that I walked on familiar ground, even if the challenge you laid to my conscious was scalding. I knew all too well what you wanted, an eye for a terrible eye. I would not be surprised if many of the Tiefling amongst the Grove agreed with you, and although you bore none of the marks of a judicial god, who would dare not call you a Judge?

“You are right.” Your path circled in front of me, those molten eyes of yours level to mine as you spoke. “She will learn to let this blister on her pride harden into indignation and that rotted mind of hers will leach into every other slight in your Grove. Tell me, do you trim back your weeds so that their roots might still starve out those around them?” The sunlight caught on your dark curls, each lock a heavy ringlet you had let drape over your shoulders. It made them glow like settled coals against the sharp edges of your face. You barred your fangs, held my stare, and gave up not an inch of ground as I approached you.

Every fiber of your body was coiled tight around this need for things to be right and fair, for if not your justice, then revenge must be served. 

Yet, you were no fool. You stood here with me, instead of in the midst of the Grove, trying even in your fury to sway me instead of cutting a bloody path to what you sought. I recognized that wisdom in you then, even as you wished so terribly to conceal it from me.

[End]

[hoboblaidd]

@weptduty - the shadow beside you

An 'esteemed' envoy of Falon'din stood in the Great Hall of Mythal's temple, their tattooed face upturned in a scowl as they argued with Landalen above them. The room had been designed to keep petitioners below the raised dais where Mythal or her Right Hand heard their pleas. A show of her power, as sure as the imposing winged statues of the Protector lining the columns. Landalen's presence was calculated - Mythal would not stoop to hear Falon'din's clumsy petition for peace on the condition that she relinquish a portion of her lands to the south to 'the great and mighty Falon'din, he who was friend and guide of the dead', etc.

The envoy's voice rose in anger, but Landalen remained stalwart as his voice joined theirs echoing along the jade walls to the cavernous ceiling above.

The Wolf watched it all from a secluded alcove high above, his keen ears picking up every word spoken. To the envoy, he was only part of the shadows, a flutter in the corner of their eye that disappeared if they turned to find it. They must have known he was about - shadowed though he was, all of Elvhenan knew of the wolf that shadowed Mythal's steps.

Landalen dismissed both the petition and the envoy, as expected. Solas waited until they had stomped out of the sanctum before stepping silently from his vantage point. He prowled the high ramparts, dogging the envoy's steps as they furiously marched away. 

He stalked them as far as the gates, collecting every word they uttered in their anger and wounded pride. Solas could follow them further, hunting their path all the way back to the eluvian that would return them to Falon'din's holdings. But their petition, and the violence its denial promised, necessitated strategy. He could hunt Falon'din's lands later. For now, the Left Hand needed the Right.

Solas traced his footsteps back into the sanctum, hugging the emerald walls until he reached Landalen's private corner of the temple. He invited himself into Landalen's chambers, entering as naturally as the soft light of the waning sun that shone through the stained glass windows around them. Solas' auburn hair gleamed as he leaned against Landalen's doorframe, the white vallaslin that adorned his cheeks twisting as he gave Landalen a rare, if bemused, smile. 

He could only ever let his mask slip in their presence. Even Mythal expected some level of propriety, and all else had to see him as something to be dreaded. 

The Left and Right Hands made an unlikely, if complementary, pair. Where Landalen was staunch and strong, a beacon and bastion of Mythal's might, the Wolf was controlled, as slippery and inscrutable as Mythal's cunning. Every movement of his was carefully crafted, save for here. Precious few knew him as Solas anymore, and even less remembered him as Wisdom. Only Mythal herself and Landalen knew what he had been before the end of the Titan war. 

Solas dismissed the tinge of envy and resentment he always felt in Landalen's presence. It was no fault of the Right Hand that they had been capable of clinging to their purpose where Solas had failed. The Wolf had long since accepted that his own weakness had twisted him into what he was now. None of that mattered anymore, anyway. He was a shadow of what he had been, and a shadow of Mythal. It was his purpose.

"That, perhaps, could have gone better," Solas said with a wry look in his violet eyes. He reached up to undo the clasps of his weathered leather armor, loosening it enough to allow his posture to become more relaxed and ease some of the stiff tension the goldleaf of the plate placed on his shoulders. "Though I am hardly surprised," he added. "Falon'din's reach has ever exceeded his grasp, and though Mythal might wish it were otherwise, a war is inevitable. What did you make of their petition? Do you believe we have time to rally the others, or should we rely on our own defenses?"

The disparate paths this civil war might take wove themselves through Solas' clever mind. All led to the same immediate problem: "I suspect we'll be receiving the 'All-Father' before the day is done," Solas frowned, distaste and dread evident in his slight scowl. Elgar'nan was ever an unwanted guest, both for his arrogance and his burning temper. And, Solas was loathe to admit, for his closeness with Mythal. "Let us hope he does not direct his tantrum at our people."

[riddleredcoats]

Hey if I may I want to pick your brain about Orlais. How do you think they go about gender? Like I've seen a bit of it with Sabran, but like, do you reckon that they of ALL the cultures would have the most laissez-faire attitude towards gender expression? Like Im talking femme he/hims and masc she/hers (and then of course Sabran who pushes for androgyny, to an Orlesian eye) . I'm thinking they'd had have dress cues these kinds of things, like certain colours and gemstones that could very well be like pronoun badge.

"what is gender but one mask to be traded for another" - Celene (blossoms of sun and wind). That quote had me thinking these mfers would love genderfluidity

This actually got a lot bigger than I was expecting, so the answer is under the cut.

Disclaimer: As a cis woman, I don’t claim to know anything about anything but especially on trans or non-binary experiences, but I’ve done my best to engage thoughtfully with the topic

Orlais and Interpreting Gender

First let us start by addressing that there is a binary description of Orlesian gender in general, especially when it pertains to clothes/cosmetics. Cosmetics are distinguished between men and women only, indicating (or, at least, implying) no middle ground [1], therefore at the very least one must wonder how would one go about distinguishing that, if there is distinguishing to be had.

Second, there are clear gendered expectations in Orlais. Celene's lack of heirs is a mark against her, while Gaspard faces no such scrutiny despite being older. Until Freyan Valmont—who lived at least post-Fourth Blight, likely in the Steel Age—women couldn't become Chevaliers. Aveline was discarded by her father for not being a boy [2]. Additionally, women take their husbands' names, with no evidence that men do the same. While not explicitly forbidden, the absence of examples suggests a strong norm imo, so I'm putting this in the Gendered Expectations exists column. All of this supports the existence of rigid gender expectations in Orlais.

So, we've established that binary definitions of gender and gender-conforming expectations are a thing in Orlais.

Now, let me show some examples that show Orlesians actually approach gender in general.

My favourite example, and the one I use to base a fairly large part of my Orlesian headcanons as it pertains to masks, is the Tale of General Not-Sheritan. [3]

Basically, a Ferelden servant puts on the mask of an Orlesian General to mock Orlesians however no Orlesian objects and everyone just carries on as if that servant is the General. Some shenanigans happen that lead the servant to lead Orlesian troops to battle and no one ever contests it, despite the fact that Ferelden servant can't speak Orlesian, has a different build than the General and, most relevant to our conversation, is a female while the General is a male.

Absolutely no one questions the identity of the Ferelden servant while she has the mask, suggesting that Orlesians fully accept the image someone chooses to present.

Another example is Orlesian theatre [4].

Perhaps famously the most progressive of Orlesian Institutions where even elves reach high levels of adoration and comfort[5] they are unable to reach anywhere else - especially as frequently and with somewhat apparent ease (compared to other places) - it is of course very ambivalent - if, somewhat paradoxilly, strict - about gender.

Anyone can play anyone of any gender, as long as they possess the talent to do so. And a mask indicates what role and gender a certain character is supposed to be.

There are strict rules one must abide by, of course. Female leads always wear purple masks while the male lead always wears a green one (of course, this, like almost everything in Orlais is mirrored in Celene and Gaspard, Celene's House colour being purple and Gaspard's green, but that's another conversation). Interestingly there is mention of roles of no gender, wearing a white mask, but the implication is that it's for things like spirits, though, perhaps gender non-conforming people may also wear white.

Orlesian theatre is particularly beloved by the masses, the audience is extremely attentive and very engaged by every performance. In the codex entry, it's mentioned that the author tried to question why the strict adherence to masks and that other countries might find it strange, Orlesian bristled - as if insulted. Very beloved fact for me, actually.

There is also another example, though somewhat more faint and harder to explore because they are a non-binary character in the Book The Last Flight, and thought not Orlesian (as far we know) and I've only read it once. However, I do remember that Lisme (the character's name) is addressed depending on what clothes/cosmetics they are wearing - I very much based Sabran's non-binary identity on that, but instead of pronouns switching which I vaguely recall happens with Lisme (pls correct me if I'm wrong) Sabran is constantly addressed as 'they' - and Lisme is often wearing Orlesian cosmetics.

The lack of explicit gender non-conforming examples does not mean that they don't exist. I believe that existing lore gives a strong basis to explore and extrapolate. Like I did with Sabran, a person combining the defined expressions of gender (masks, cosmetics, clothes) is essentially telling the world that they don't view themselves as male or female, and therefore the most rational response is to address that person as 'they/them'.

Varying degrees of expression and mixing and matching those elements, and taking into account that Orlesians thrive on implicit messages and in decoding a hidden message, would give someone control over how they are perceived.

Given Orlais' deep-rooted culture of performance, masks, and fluid social maneuvering, it is likely that gender expression operates similarly. The use of cosmetics, attire, and coded colors may allow for a fluidity in gender presentation that is less rigid than in other Thedas nations.

There is also, of course, the infamous Sera quote. During the quest Wicked Eyes, Wicked Hearts if you talk to her and ask her what she sees, she gives a description of the people of the ballroom and one of the lines is "...he's a she...". Which one, is incredibly telling of Sera, because foreigners and common people usually have difficulty distinguishing between male and female cosmetics of the nobility, but it's also an explicit implication that at least gender fluidity is somewhat prevalent in Orlais and someone masquerading as another gender is not something particularly shocking. Which somewhat aligns with some historical reports; Elizabeth of Russia was a big fan of Masquerade Balls - called the Metamorphoses Balls - where everyone had to dress in the opposite gender [6].

(There, unkindly, another read of the line, I suppose; a transphobic read where Sera sees a transgender person and 'outs' them, but I reject it. Not only because that doesn't seem like Sera, for as... insensitive as she may be towards some issues, but also because of everything that I have said here as well as Orlais general inclinations towards spectacle and plots; it's more likely that someone was simply masquerading as someone else)

Finally, one must never forget that Orlesians - even commoners - are always playing The Great Game[7]. I reckon there are many plays that one can make by managing to control all the gendered elements of their appearance and use it to their advantage; as disguises, to make a point, to masquerade as someone else, to incriminate someone else, etc... Like everything in Orlesian life, gender can be used as weapon and knowing how manipulate and present the image you want to present, is an advantage that I doubt any Orlesian would pass on.

Conclusions:

I do believe that Orlais is the most permissive of countries in general when it lends to people expressing themselves. If for no other reason than the fact that it can be exploited for a play in The Great Game.

There is enough supporting evidence to conclude that they were at worst ambivalent on gender and if it lent itself to a good play in the Great Game, they might outright encourage some gender fuckery (affectionate)

However, that stops once you look at the class structure.

Yes, commoners likely had more freedom to express themselves in this particular matter (since they don't have to conform to the expectations of nobility). Ironically, this may be one of their few advantages over the nobility. Nobles still have their duties to their House to perform, so children are expected which, of course, is very gendered in its execution.

I believe that masks only delineate your family and identify you, so it stands to reasons that if you wear a certain mask as Jacques and another as Jacqueline, any Orlesian will be able to tell who you are and how to address you depending on the mask you're wearing. Assuming that is how one wants to express their gender.

Cosmetics and clothes likely only serve to exacerbate whatever gender expression one uses.

There is, however, no explicit mention of how Orlesians view non-binary individuals.

That said, it would stand to reason that a nation that is generally ambivalent towards gender - again, as long as you do your duty and adhere to the strict class struct (and there is so much to talk about with regards to gender in these types of class structures but that goes beyond this conversation and is, perhaps, quite above my capabilities) - would find any reason to object to any expression of that particular sentiment.

In my own works, I use that premise (often using a merging of clothes, cosmetics and masks that Orlesians are adept at interpreting to have them deduce what pronoun the person would prefer) but with no factual examples it is hard to know if it's true or not.

References:

[1] - The Art of Dragon Age: Inquisition, pag 109 and 125 [2] - Leliana's dialogue in DAO, Codex Entry: Aveline, Knight of Orlais [3] - Codex Entry: The Folly of General Not-Sheritan [4] - Codex Entry: A Compendium of Orlesian Theatre. [5] - Codex Entry: A Compendium of Orlesian Theater, Volume III: Tragedies in the Modern Style by Magister Pellinar [6] - Elizabeth, Empress of Russia by Talbot Rice, 1970. [7] - Codex Entry: The Orlesian Empire

[theladyofbloodshed]

Chapter 9 - You're The Closest To Heaven I'll Ever Be

Azriel is just in emotional agony, warring inside his own head

'We appreciate you taking the time to see us again.’

Only two queens had come for their meeting – the eldest and the golden-haired one – although the same number of mortal guards had escorted them. Their keen eyes did not miss Feyre and Rhys’ entwined hands or the matching crowns on their heads signalling an accepted mating bond.

Azriel had taken up a post near the bay windows close to where Nesta stood poker-straight with her shoulders locked. He hadn’t sent any shadows to comfort her, yet one was twining itself around her hand and another had looped around her ankle the moment they had all finished their tea. If she found comfort in his shadows, she would be the first – beside him. They weren’t prone to fleeing from her. In fact, they seemed to bolster their courage in Nesta’s presence. If they were not in the midst of a terse meeting with mortal royalty, the others would surely notice his shadows behaving differently. As it was, nobody noticed a thing. Not even when the shadow looped around his wrist and Nesta’s, tying them together.

‘After being so gravely insulted the last time…’ A simmering glare was thrown at Nesta that had Azriel squeezing his hands into a fist, but the mortal woman next to him levelled her own look of unyielding flame back at her. ‘We debated for many days whether we should return. As you can see, three of us found the insult to be unforgivable.’

More words were batted back and forth between Rhys, Feyre, and the two queens. Insults were thinly veiled behind them.

This close to Nesta, Azriel hardly dared to breathe. That agonising ache in his chest that had been with him for weeks had suddenly eased. More than that, a flood of heat was leaking out from where the pain had been. He felt warm and cosy, like he was being brought in from the cold. A maddening desire to curl his face into her neck had him tensing his legs to stop his wayward heart from daring to do it. He risked a glance to the pale column of her neck, at the space where it met her collar bone. He thought of a kiss placed there – chaste to a degree but also a prelude to more.

What was wrong with him?

Why was he fantasising about touching this mortal female?

Had it been so long since he’d bedded a female that his heart would run away with only a pretty face?

Azriel tugged his wrist free from the shadow binding it and focused on the conversation. If he did not fulfil his duty here – as a result of daydreaming about Nesta Archeron – he would never forgive himself.

‘There is an iron engagement ring upon my sister’s finger – and yet she stands with us.’

The queens’ stare landed on Elain in her pale pink and blue dress. She was uncomfortable under their scrutiny and did a poor job of hiding it. Beside him, he felt Nesta go rigid. How she didn’t snap in two, he did not know.

‘I would say that is proof of her idiocy,’ the golden one sneered, ‘to be engaged to a Fae-hating man… and to risk the match by association with you.’

‘Do not judge what you know nothing about.’ The words came out from Nesta as a hiss, coiled by her anger.

‘The viper speaks again,’ the queen said with a raise of her brows towards Feyre. ‘Surely the wise move would have been to have her sit this meeting out.’

‘She offers up her house and risks her social standing for us to have these meetings,’ replied Feyre fairly. ‘She has the right to hear what is spoken in them. To stand as a representative of the people of these lands. They both do.’

Without realising what he was doing, Azriel reached for Nesta’s hand. Shadows obscured it. Nobody looked their way; Mor was opening the lid of the box where the Veritas orb was stored. Nesta risked a glance to him then down at the layer of shadows masking their entwined fingers. She did not pull away. Her fingers did not go limp against his scarred touch. No, Nesta held on tighter – the first sign of her fear. Likely the only sign she’d ever be willing to show. Azriel had never wished more to be a daemati. He wished he could speak to Nesta, offer her soft, comforting words to soothe the fear masked as vitriol.  

Velaris was revealed to the queens but Azriel kept his attention fixed on Nesta, measuring every slight change to her expression as she took in the City of Dreamers. Even the sight of his beautiful city could not persuade the queens. They demanded more time to deliberate. There was no time. The never-ending drumming of war stormed closer each day. It would be on their doorsteps before they knew it.

Even a love letter from Rhysand was read out by the elder queen, imploring them to see reason and save Feyre’s people.

‘Who is to say that this is not all some grand manipulation?’

‘What?’ Mor blurted.

‘A great many things have changed since the War. Since your so-called friendships with our ancestors. Perhaps you are not who you say you are. Perhaps the High Lord has crept into our minds to make us believe you are the Morrigan. ‘

The fingers cradled against his own slipped free. Nesta gave a loud exhale. Elain reached for her – to stop her. ‘This is the talk of madwomen. Of arrogant, stupid fools.’ The venom in her voice threatened to buckle the very foundations of the home. The queens stared at her with blinding shock. Even the sentries hadn’t moved to grip their weapons. ‘Give them the Book.’

The queens remained blinking at her.

Nesta snapped, ‘Give them the book.’

Despite the queens’ refusal, Nesta went on. Her arms flung out, brows drawn together with despair. ‘There are innocent people here. In these lands. If you will not risk your necks against the forces that threaten us, then grant those people a fighting chance. Give my sister the Book.’

The elder queen averted her gaze as if she could no longer hold Nesta’s burning one. And she did burn with a fury and a passion that nearly brought Azriel to his knees.

‘An evacuation may be possible-’

‘You would need ten thousand ships,’ Nesta said, her voice breaking. ‘You would need an armada. I have calculated the numbers. And if you are readying for war, you will not send your ships to us. We are stranded here.’

The crone gripped the polished arms of her chair as she leaned forward, a cruel smile edging onto her lips. ‘Then I suggest asking one of your winged males to carry you across the sea, girl.’

Azriel would. He’d fly across the ocean again and again, saving every mortal he could, until he died of exhaustion if Nesta asked him to.

Nesta’s throat bobbed. ‘Please. Please – do not leave us to face this alone.’

Azriel was moved by her words. Even the stars would move for her.

Just as he made to step forwards, to go to his knees before her and offer his wings, Cassian crossed to her. Azriel stiffened. Nesta lifted her chin to meet Cassian’s blazing gaze.

‘Five hundred years ago, I fought on battlefields not far from this house. I fought beside human and faerie alike, bled beside them. I will stand on that battlefield again, Nesta Archeron, to protect this house – your people. I can think of no better way to end my existence than to defend those who need it most.’

A single tear fell down her cheek at his declaration. As Cassian reached to wipe it away, Azriel turned his eyes to his boots. His chest was caving in. He had been so long without contact that a muted smile from Feyre’s sister had him unravelling. If Cassian wanted to tangle himself with a mortal whose life was limited, that was his brother’s choice.

Nesta did not pull away, did not stop him from touching her cheek with everybody watching.

A shadow burrowed up his sleeve, wending its way towards his chest to lay against his thumping heart. The sooner they were back in Velaris the better. Being in the mortal realm did not agree with Azriel. It churned up his emotions, his sense, his shadows. He wanted to go home.

The queens departed. They would not offer the book nor aid. They would leave the mortal world to rot and ruin.

Nesta stepped away, back towards Elain. A comforting arm went around her sister’s shoulders although she had been the one visibly distressed. When Azriel’s shadows moved to go to her, he called them back. For once, they listened.

‘It will be alright,’ she murmured to Elain though those words were for herself too, he supposed.

Feyre gave a gasp. Beneath her chair was a box containing the Book. Rhys picked it up and veiled it with his magic. They would leave swiftly before the other queens knew it was missing.

 Rhys inclined his head to the eldest Archeron sisters. ‘It is your choice, ladies, whether you wish to remain here, or come with us. You have heard the situation at hand. You have done the math about an evacuation.’ A nod of approval as he met Nesta’s red-rimmed eyes. ‘Should you choose to remain, a unit of my soldiers will be here within the hour to guard this place. Should you wish to come live with us in that city we just showed them, I’d suggest packing now.’

A long beat of silence followed. Nesta looked to Elain, who was still silent and wide-eyed. The latter thumbed the iron ring on her finger. A promise to a mortal male who would likely be a dead man soon too.

‘It is your choice,’ Nesta said with a tenderness that had his shadows yearning for her. ‘I go where you go.’

Elain swallowed like a doe caught in a snare. ‘I- I can’t. I…’

She was choosing love over safety. And that would damn her sister too. Love was a poison that ruined all it touched.

Surely Rhys wouldn’t allow it. They were his mate’s sisters. They should be brought to Velaris where it was safe. Azriel would keep them safe.

Rhys nodded with understanding, his grip tightening on Feyre’s waist. ‘The sentries will be here and remain unseen and unfelt. They will look after themselves. Should you change your minds, one will be waiting this room every day at noon and at midnight for you to speak. My home is your home. Its doors are always open to you.’

Azriel would be there for the first night. He would volunteer himself to guard the sisters. He could not conceive of Illyrians or Darkbringers in this place protecting mortals. They were more likely to make them suffer. No, he would guard them. Him and Cass. A bitter taste of jealously slid down his throat at the thought of Cassian being alone with Nesta. Cassian would seize the chance. From the way he lingered near her now, he knew his brother was desperate for another moment with her.

Despair paled Nesta’s face. She looked at them all then to Feyre. ‘That was why you painted stars on your drawer.’