#Expecting that to me feels dangerous. If I required it then it isn't love

[vio1315]

It is not in vain x50

[spacebarbarianweird]

Asking specifically for chronically ill/chronically fatigued Tav?

I have Myalgic Encephalomyelitis or Chronic Fatigue and amongst many other symptoms like low energy and crashes, I'm really sensitive to sunlight and loud stimuli.

I think it'd be cute if when the tadpole was removed, all her symptoms came flooding back, and on a mutual decision, they decided to move to the Underdark with the freed spawns and it's so much better low sensory for Tav! 😍😍😍

Love your work, take your time!

Hi! This HCs has been in my drafts for ages (I started to write it a few times but never finised). Thanks for @warmteaslibrary for insights!

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion x Chronically ill!Tav

Your adventure has not been easy, but quite bearable.

Until the very end.

The wave of necrotic damage murders you on the spot and you remember nothing but blissful darkness.

You are revived - the Jergal's last blessing before he leaves the Prime for good.

You wake up cradled in Astarion's arms as he cries and whispers the words of love.

But you can feel nothing but pain.

Your body remembers being killed.

It remembers the skull being broken, the limbs being torn, and the skin being burnt.

The tadpole is gone but your mind has a new master.

Pain.

Physically, you are healthy but you are constantly exhausted and depressed.

Your brain barely functions, and your memory worsens.

You constantly cry, even though you try your best not to.

You expect Astarion to leave - you are no longer the person you once were. You are a wreck, almost disabled.

You can't even walk on your own sometimes let alone helping him with his sun-sensitivity.

But Astarion doesn't go.

Together you settle down in the outskirts of Baldur's Gate, somewhere Astarion's condition won't get too much attention.

When it's so bad you can't move Astarion touches you gently and assures you he isn't going anywhere, and he will always be here with you.

Astarion never says it's all right and it's going to be better.

He knows your condition is hardly improving.

Astarion helps you to find things you can enjoy, and that won't require too much physical activity.

With the return of vampiric powers, he carries you in his arms when you can't walk anymore.

The thing that brings you pleasure is bathing.

Warm water takes your pain away. Astarion washes your skin, and massages your sore limbs.

You often spend time in the bathtub together - Astarion wraps his hands around you and reads you aloud.

Actually, you've never been a bookish person - you were a fighter, a traveler...

But no more.

Reading brings you a lot of comfort. It doesn't require any physical activity, and books take you places, making you forget the pain.

Especially when Astarion goes away - hunting or working with supernatural contracts (so many stupid people, so many dangerous deals, so much money a former magistrate can make).

What surprises you sometimes as sharp as his tongue is he never makes fun of your state and never complains.

He also brings home healers from time to time but their spells have a temporary effect.

During long sunny days when you are both locked inside, you sometimes wonder if it ever gets better. Will the pain ever go away?

Astarion shrugs.

"I once asked the same about my inability to walk in the sunlight. What did you tell me?"

"That I would stay with you regardless?"

"Yes. That's my answer. I am not going anywhere."

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe 

[destinysbounty]

Not sure if this counts, but how do you explain the ninjas ages? How are they teachers but also like 16? I always love hearing people's thoughts on this

For a while now I've been entertaining a headcanon that I think would perfectly explain this in a way that makes sense. Note that this is just a circumstantial theory with no explicit basis in canon, so feel free to take it or leave it as you see fit.

Okay, so. To understand the teacher situation (as well as my theories for why Ninjago's education system is fucked to hell and back), we first have to talk about the Serpentine War for a sec. Bare with me, I promise this will make sense.

This seems like a no-brainer, but a war requires people to actually, yknow, fight in it. Which means large demographics of people have to leave their homes, families, jobs, and communities. Naturally, this forces the ones they've left behind to compensate for the economic deficit caused by their absence. Anyone familiar with American history could tell you that this happened to the US during WWII - as swathes of men shipped off overseas to fight in the war, women back home had to take charge of the economy and participate more actively in the workforce.

I think it goes without saying that this kind of situation probably happened to Ninjago during the Serpentine War. But the thing is, we know women fought in the war stood at the front lines alongside the men - we've seen them. So if that's the case, then who stepped up to help run the economy while Mommy and Daddy were away?

I think you can guess where I'm going with this.

That's right. With so many people leaving to fight in the War (and also dying from Serpentine raids), I don't think it's unreasonable to conclude that some subset of kids and teens had to step up to the plate and take up some of the vacancies their parents had left behind. Obviously I'm not saying all the adults were gone, but it was enough to warrant kids entering the workforce prematurely.

And of course, if kids are getting jobs at younger ages, then I think it's valid to extrapolate that to teacher positions as well.

As you can imagine, this shift created a few new social precedents: 1) expectations for kids, especially teens, to get jobs and become mature at younger ages was normalized; and 2) requirements for certain careers, including education, became much more lenient.

This labor expectation imposed on older kids and teens would actually explain a lot more than just the s3 teacher situation, when you think about it.

Not only are unqualified teens allowed to become teachers, but also undead skeleton warriors from the Underworld (see s1ep4). I'm sorry, but you can't convince me that Kruncha and Nuckal are licensed educators.

The existence of Darkley's, and how it was able to exist for so long without any kind of administrative intervention. The education system is in shambles, and it's because Ninjago's infrastructure never fully recovered from the Serpentine War.

Disparities and gaps in people's historical/world knowledge. No one knows shit about anything. Because again, the education system in in shambles. (If you doubt the validity of this point, let me just remind you I'm from the US. I once met a college student who didn't know what 'north' was.)

The existence of the Paper Boys - how they can devote what seem to be entire workdays to an extremely dangerous job, with minimal adult oversight (if any).

The entirety of Ninjago society seems totally chill with the fact that their saviors are a bunch of kids. To them this isn't cause for concern or even distrust in the ninjas' capability, it's just the norm!

In s15, Lloyd was able to get a job, presumably without a high school diploma or GED of some kind. Or, yknow, any formal education past grade 3 (although we know from supplemental material that he did get some kind of tutoring from the ninja, so this point is debatable).

If some kind of in-universe CPS equivalent exists, then they certainly don't do anything. No one has ever reported or raised issue with Lloyd being homeless, Cole also being homeless for a while, the ninja not being in school, Kai and Nya being parent-free since the ages of ~6 and 3 respectively, and other such things that would ordinarily be cause for alarm.

While there is canon evidence that Kai and Nya received some degree of aid from their community, especially when they were younger, this seems to be completely absent by the time the series begins. Perhaps the community's assistance began to withdraw over time as the siblings faced increasing expectations to become self-sufficient despite still being children. Like, "you're 10 years old now, Kai, it's time for you to start pulling your weight and taking care of the shop by yourself. You need to grow up."

If we approach Ninjago's worldbuilding from this context, suddenly the teacher arc becomes less of a plothole and more...depressing, tbh.

And in a weird way, this interpretation actually fits in nicely with Ninjago's themes of generational trauma. Think about it. Society was damaged by the Serpentine War. And because they never really healed from what happened, the kids of future generations continue to face the normalization of their childhoods gradually being ripped away from them before they're ready. Kinda like kids in a broken home taking on adult responsibilities to cover the slack. Kinda like Cole handling house chores while his father grieved away from home. Kina like Kai and Nya running the shop while their parents were gone.

And everyone is just...used to it. The only times in all 15 seasons that anyone stakes a complaint about this system are in seasons 1-2 when Lloyd was a little child, in season 8 when Harumi was ridiculing the ninja, and in season 15 when Wu refused to lead the Paper Boys into battle.

(I do think it's worth noting that young children are still regarded as kids, of course, as seen with how the ninja were treated when they got de-aged. But this isn't really a refutation of my argument, as much as it is a clue to help us identify society's cutoff for childhood innocence.)

Again, it's more of a circumstantial theory than anything based in fact. So you're free to dispute it as you like. But you have to admit it would explain a lot, wouldn't it?

Anyway, that was...a lot longer than I was expecting it to be. Damn. I'm beginning to think that's gonna be a running theme with these theory posts.

Thanks for the ask! <3

[genshinwomenontop]

"I think I love you even more now"

☆Prompt: Navia's lover is a kind and sweet girl but when Navia's enemies corners her, her sweet girl turns into a killing machine.

☆Warnings: Mentions of blood, Melus and Sliver isn't dead, reader receiving her vision.

Spina Di Rousla had gotten a new president recently; Navia. And so far, she's been doing one hell of a job. You never expected the organisation to blossom under Navia's care, especially not after the death of the previous president but then again, its Navia, she never fails to impress.

But behind that successful president was her extremely supportive lover, who happened to be a cinnamon roll. You were the backbone that braced Navia through her hardest times and she could never forget it; which is why she swore to always protect you.

Navia recently had a commission that required some investigation in a ruin, apparently someone's father went in and never came out. "Oh y/n, I can't bare to see the tears on this child's face anymore," she sighed as she looked at the crying child who was being comforted by Melus and Silver. You hugged Navia gently before softly whispering to her.

"I'm coming with you."

"No darling it's too dangerous."

"And you think I'd let you go in alone? Besides, I can fight... somewhat," she chuckled before nodding.

The two of you made your way to the ruins, it was old and abandoned, the walls fell apart and it was taken over by bushes. "Did your father wander into this ruin?" Navia bent down to the child's level. She nodded with tears in her eyes. "Well, stay here with Melus and Sliver. Y/n and I will bring him back."

Upon entering the ruin, you were greeted by spider webs and insects, making you scream and clutch onto Navia making her giggle. "Afraid of a spider dear?" She teased, walking deeper into the cave.

"S-shut up... it's not funny.."

She stumbled upon an entrance to what it seemed like a hall way and she made her way down there with you following closely behind. As soon as you both stepped into the hallway, Navia pulled you into her chest and dodged a ruin guard. "Stay close to me!" She shouted, firing missles at the machine. You weren't terrified, you were just afraid that you might get in her way. "Go look for the dad while I hold them off." She said as even more guards, hilichurls and matachurls came.

With a swift motion, you dashed through the ruins, searching everywhere you could just to find the dad and eventually you did. Some feeling in your gut told you that something bad had happened and when you brought the dad back to Navia, you found her on the floor bleeding heavily as blood gushed through her cuts and a fresh stab wound on her side. "Navia!" A terrified expression made its way onto your face and something inside you snapped.

In anger, you dashed from the top floor to the bottom, standing infront of Navia with your sword. Your eyes scanned your enemies before one by one, you killed them all, from the guard to the beasts and Navia looked at you in amazement and shock. When all the enemies laid dead of the floor, an electro vision appeared in your arms. "Woah... I did that?" You asked in disbelief, not evening wanting to believe you were capable of doing that.

"Y-yes... yes! You were amazing!" Navia got up but fell to her knees as the pain hit her.

"Hey I got you," you picked her up bridal style before motioning to the man to follow you. Together, you made it out of the ruins and the little girl ran to her father, hugging him as they were separated for too long.

You placed Navia on the floor as Melus and Silver ran over and began patching her up. While that was happening, she gently placed her hand on your cheek, "you... you did that for me. I didn't know you had it in you," she chuckled.

"Me neither, but I'm glad I did," you leaned into her touch. The little girl then came up to you and offered you Mora but you declined.

"It's alright. You can keep it," you patted her head as she thanked you and ran off with her dad. You felt a kiss being placed on your lips and you turned to meet Navia's loving gaze.

"I didn't think it was possible to love you even more but now you've proven that it's wrong. I think I love you even more now."

[tartagilicious]

i love the fact that dottore just somehow was able to successfully treat collei's eleazar, and it's always just made me think 😭😭 who in his life had it to the point where he mastered caring for a disease with no cure? insane lore for a mad scientist archetype!! also hello (: this isn't the end of my hiatus, but i'm trying to play genshin more again now that i have the time so dottore brainrot is back!!!! c.w: blood

all the ways to kill the one you love (1.6k)

When you fall to your knees in the dark hall, you can only pray that the person in front of you knows that it wasn’t of your own volition. The only thing to blame is your own negligence for getting you into this situation – perhaps you’d be in better shape if you had been more prepared for your Eleazar to break out. 

Because from the moment you set foot into the frigid country’s very own Zapolyarny Palace, it has been in your absolute best interest to stay under the radar. Coming from the Akademiya, you know well that you are not particularly popular with any of its inhabitants.

Though, that isn’t your concern. You’re here to determine if the Fatui have been able to locate the missing Dendro archon as a vessel of Irminsul; a child of Sumeru and vision holder in the Akademiya. Effectively, you don’t intend to make any lasting friends, so to say. You’re unsure of the Akademiya’s plans with the information you find, but whatever you glean from your time here will be insignificant once out of your hands.

It was easy to convince the Grand Sage that your place amongst the heretics in Snezhnaya would be with their soldiers, despite the fact that your student-life had been plagued by your condition. Because the simple truth is that they didn't care about the technicalities, as long as you’re able to relay the info they require, they could care less if you died with it. 

Your time in the Fatui itself has been anxiety-inducingly bleak, though, and certainly nothing like what you expected. Low ranking soldiers are treated as employees, almost, sent from place to place in order to protect property and officials. But nothing has ever made you rethink your decision to accept a mission as much as this. 

The hydro vision you keep tucked away in your uniform should be helping to push down the pain – it has always helped. But be it the cold weather or something else entirely, your incorrigible disease seems to be flaring up more than usual. Even if you were blessed with a portion of Celestia's magic, you have been reminded from a young age that power is dangerous; and it cannot fix everything. 

However, your vision has never failed you so noticeably until now. 

The awful warmth in the back of your throat is a stark contrast to the cool tile beneath your hands. Your bunkmate is somewhere behind you, you think – she had been the one to find you, after all, clinging to a wall with a hideous mixture of blood and mucus pooling at your chin. 

You call out to her, voice weak as you attempt to stand. No response. The unknown doctor you had been led to is still silent so far, possibly making no move simply to see what you will try to do in your state. You can feel his eyes on you as you croak, 

“Has she gone?”

Something in the quiet air sparks as your voice breaks the silence. You look up begrudgingly, curious to see who you’re at the feet of even as your skin tingles painfully. You’re disappointed to find that the man’s face is obstructed by a mask that is vaguely owl-like, leaving nothing but the very corners of his lips visible. 

You don’t recognise him in the slightest, and yet, he frowns. 

Then, in his expensive slacks and in a way that surely creases his boots, the doctor kneels down to your level. Your heartbeat quickens intermittently as your eyes track his slow movements. You can’t help but be shocked by the sudden display of attention when he had clearly been resigned to only watching you before.

It’s difficult to look right at him when there are no eyes to find, so you can only look at the ground as the doctor studies you. 

You want to speak badly, to ask him to help you, but the words catch regrettably in your throat. Brows tightening, you throw a shaky hand over your mouth as a cough forces its way up. And too quickly, the blood that had pooled at the back of your throat empties into your mouth without warning, the taste instinctually pulling a whimper from you. 

A brief chuckle sounds from above you.

All you can register from that point on is a gloved hand slipping under your chin, tipping your head upwards. You attempt to shake your head in protest. Yet, all the Doctor does is wipe the blood that pebbles from your lips with a careful thumb. 

“How pitiful” The Doctor finally speaks, his rough voice thoughtful. “I’d thought you better than this.”

Your brows wrinkle in confusion as his thumb lingers near your mouth. He provides no explanation to his mysterious remark, though, merely turning your chin from side to side in an effort to look at your face in its entirety. Your chest burns with each movement.

Too helpless to do anything but stare at him, an old image slowly begins unfolding before you – though his face is covered, canine teeth are visible as he teases you. You’re almost certain that if he took off his mask, you’d be staring into the crimson eyes of someone you’d never forget.

Without thinking, you grasp at his wrist. The painful buzz solidifies between you without the barrier of a glove, but you don’t back down. 

“Zandik?” You whisper, brows creasing in concern. “How…?”

The Zandik you know is dead. This much is clear, no matter the way you look at it. But until now, you’d thought the former was undisputable. 

“You disappeared. I thought you were gone, but now you're with them?” You whisper harshly, sadness leaching into your voice.

After a few quiet moments, he drops your chin with a deep hum and pulls himself away from you. 

You crumble in on yourself and cough excess blood into your hand almost instantly, though he does nothing to help you this time. When you’ve caught your breath, he says, 

“You’ve always been one for flattery. I have never been any better than them.”

That’s not true. It’s not. You want to yell it at him, to insist until this awful cold facade of his ceases and you’re able to see the same person you’d gone to the Akademiya with. The same person who, despite having been hardened by the people that had outcased him, still flinched when insulted. The only one who would touch your hands that were inured with violet scales, and who valued your ability to forgive those who have hurt you. 

He was a person whose interest in things stemmed from his want to improve. Who’s status as an outcast came from his inability to compromise when it came to his life’s work, his desire to evolve. You found solace not in his frigid company,  but in the way your condition garnered the most intimate of his attention.

With the very same material that was enough to consider him a danger to Sumeru, he had successfully fought off the more gruesome symptoms of your Eleazar. With you, he was understood; needed. But with him, you finally felt whole. Both were things neither of you were ready to give up.

“Flattery.” Your voice is broken as you stare at the ground, body propped up by nothing but your weak forearms. “It’s so like you to insist anything good about you is false.”

A small frown is visible around the corners of his pointed mask. 

“What brings you to Snezhnaya, ___?”

“...I’m dying, Zandik.” You say quietly. He’s the first person you’ve admitted it to, even before yourself. In your student years, you’d been hopeful, confident, that your hydro vision would be enough to sustain you through a normal life. The very archon it stands for vies for equality on all fronts, between good and evil as well as sickness and health. 

But now, you know it isn’t enough. You’re old enough to look past the thin veil that has been protecting your fragile mind all these years and see the truth – that you were never meant for a long life. 

“What a headache.” He sighs it out placidly. You can’t find it in yourself to meet his eye as he kneels before you once again, every ounce of love he had once felt for you gone, yet somehow seeping from the cracks of his resolve all the same.  

You fully prepare yourself for the inevitable result of being told to leave, to seek refuge with a real doctor and not test fate in his hands. But, he doesn’t. Instead, a gloved hand reaches for your shoulder, pushing you up your knees. Your muscles sting with over-exertion as the cloud of hair leaves your face.

“How long have you been aware?”

Your back aches as you wipe the blood from your lips.

“A couple weeks.” You answer quietly, your words like a ghost in the frigid winter air. 

Dottore doesn’t answer immediately, a frown etched into his face permanently. Your breath catches as he reaches into his pristine white jacket. Gingerly, he wipes the blood from your lips with the steady hands of a surgeon. The action is not necessarily cold, but it is not full of the same warmth you remember either.

His voice is guttural when he says, “You’re foolish for coming here.” for coming to me. 

You want to laugh, to half-heartedly agree with him. You aren’t sure that you would have let your bunkmate bring you here if you knew that this was the fate you were going to meet. Of all the people in the world, Dottore is the only person who would be able to call you on your bluffs – on all of the reasons you’re here, and every reason the Akademiya has to value you. 

You could become nothing very quickly, as soon as he wishes. 

But, there's something inside you that wrestles with the fear -- something soft and carefully hidden that refuses to leave this revelation, this reunion, behind.

And so, you force out a soft, “I know.”

You both know his harsh words don’t hold any real meaning. After all, the fearsome Harbinger is equal to you in this moment, on his knees just as you are. And if nothing else, it gives you hope that things are not as lost as they seem.

tartagilicious 2023

[yanderes-galore]

Hello! This is my first time requesting so please bear with me 😭, but can we get a Roadhog headcanons. I don’t see a lot of him in these fictions..

I'd love to write him sm... he's such a cool character :D Here's some general thoughts that aren't entirely connected/in any order... just pure brainrot!

Yandere! Roadhog/Mako Rutledge Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Possessive behavior, Violence, Mentioned murder, Blood, Kidnapping, Manipulation, Stalking, Mentioned forced relationship.

Roadhog has been described to be a ruthless killer in the wastelands.

He doesn't say much and prefers his current title/name of Roadhog rather than Mako.

He is used to other people fearing him.

He even acts as a bodyguard to Junkrat, his partner in crime.

Despite this I feel he changes a bit when it comes to you.

He really does love you, after all.

He'd probably be the type to burn the world for you.

While he sees Junkrat as a friend he probably wouldn't let the smaller Junker touch you.

Junkrat may try to speak or playfully tease you, only for Roadhog to redirect you away.

He's a big man, if he has to protect you he is fully capable.

Being the one he adores has its perks as no one will dare to hurt you without possibly dying.

The cons are the exact same thing except with friends.

Roadhog would allow you to call him by his name Mako.

You're one of the few that can.

Roadhog would also be more affectionate than you think.

He would love holding you, especially when he lays down.

He likes to have you lay on top of him while he just holds you close.

He loves Pachimaris and would internally melt if you gave him one.

He may even allow you to touch his collection.

He thinks you're just as cute as them.

Roadhog would most likely keep you at his farm.

However, if this is during his crime spree with Junkrat, he'll drag you along.

Speaking of Junkrat, if Roadhog needed any traps to keep you where he wants you... he'll provide for his friend.

Roadhog would definitely kidnap you as he isn't sure how else to approach you in his obsession.

He'd watch you for awhile before deciding, like any treasure, he should take you.

Despite abduction he'd try to show he cares for you.

Even though he literally abducted you.

Roadhog would be the jealous type.

Except you can't tell what he's feeling.

He'll end up showing things by actions more than vocally or by facial expressions.

He'll do things like push you closer to him or hover around you.

Roadhog doesn't really care if you fight him.

He gets it... you're scared... but he can't have any other Junker take you from him.

Even Junkrat only gets limited visits, if any at all.

Don't expect many words from him.

Which I think makes him scarier.

Because think of it from your perspective....

This large silent man traps you in his farmhouse.

He says no words, just affectionately holding you and smothering you in plushies.

You're terrified.

Roadhog really does try to care for you and treat you like you're his greatest treasure.

The issue is he isn't caring enough to give you freedom.

He uses the excuse of things being too dangerous in the outback to reassure himself and you.

You could get sick... mugged... hurt... or even killed.

So really, he's just playing bodyguard for you, right?

He isn't used to romantic relationships so he appears distant.

Yet if you initiate he'll reciprocate quickly.

Roadhog would be possessive as he is the jealous type.

Don't be surprised if he came to you with some blood staining his clothes and skin.

He's most likely just preventing Junkers from coming near his farm, and by extension, you.

Roadhog would also be a fan of his darling being smaller than him.

He has a thing for your size.

Overall, Roadhog is a yandere who isn't afraid to take what he wants.

He sees his darling as a treasure he must keep all too himself... even if it requires violence to keep you as his.

He knows how to survive in the harsh dangers of the wastelands... if anything, him taking you in should be a favor in his eyes.

[ltash]

Promise

"Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies."

Aristotle

The chirping of birds and the warmth of the morning sun filtered through the curtains, gently waking me. I felt a hand softly brushing through my hair as I opened my eyes.

"Good morning, love," I heard him say, his voice a deep, comforting rumble.

He was sitting beside me, his fingers tenderly threading through my hair. A cup of hot tea was placed on the side table, steam curling up invitingly. I noticed he had already changed his clothes-he was wearing a black buttoned casual shirt and jeans.

What caught my attention most was his face, fully visible without the usual mask.

I sat up, blinking away the remnants of sleep. "Good morning," I replied, my voice still groggy. "Your mask." I pointed, curious about his choice.

"No need for it today," he said with a faint smile. "Nobody's coming. We're on our own."

"Soap said that you sleep with it," I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

He smiled, a rare sight. "Yes, but back there. Not here in front of you."

"Simon, when am I going to meet your family?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

His expression shifted, a shadow passing over his face. "Unfortunately, never."

"What? Why?" I pressed, confused and concerned.

"They're all gone," he sighed, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

"Gone? Where?" I asked, my heart sinking.

"To heaven," he replied quietly.

A shock and a wave of grief pierced through me. Without thinking, I pulled him into a hug, cupping his face in my hands. "I'm so sorry," I whispered, feeling his pain as if it were my own. "You've lost everyone and you're still helping me through all this."

He didn't say anything, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes. He was a man who had endured unimaginable loss, yet he stood strong, protecting me. I realized then just how much he meant to me and how much I wanted to be there for him, just as he had been for me.

"Nora!" he said, looking into my eyes with a seriousness that made my heart skip a beat. "I need to talk to you."

"Yes, I'm listening," I replied, holding his gloved hands gently in mine, feeling the warmth through the fabric.

"You know, my job requires me to go to different places. We are deployed here and there every now and then. The missions are dangerous and life-threatening," he paused, his eyes searching mine for understanding.

"We can lose our lives anytime we're on a mission. Also, I can't keep any relationships during my job because relationships come with expectations, and I can't fulfill any expectations. I'm not in a position to," he said, his voice heavy with the weight of his words.

I tightened my grip on his hands, searching his eyes for any sign of hope. "But Simon, I don't need you to fulfill any expectations. I just need you," I whispered, my voice trembling.

His eyes softened for a moment before the steel returned. "Nora, it's not that simple. My work... it's a constant danger. I can't put you through that."

"You're not putting me through anything. I'm choosing to be here with you," I insisted, my resolve strengthening. "We'll figure it out together, no matter what."

He looked at me, a mixture of admiration and sorrow in his eyes. "You're braver than anyone I've ever known. But I don't want to be the reason you suffer."

I shook my head. "Simon, you're the reason I feel alive. We can't predict the future, but we can face it together. Isn't that worth something?"

For a moment, he was silent, the internal battle evident on his face. Then, he pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly. "Alright, Nora. We'll try. But you have to promise me something."

"Anything," I said, my voice muffled against his chest.

"Promise me you'll stay safe, no matter what happens."

"I promise," I whispered, closing my eyes and holding on to him with everything I had.

"I will always be here for you, Simon," I said, my voice steady with conviction. "Waiting for you to come back whenever you get time. I will also try to visit you from time to time. Don't worry! I will handle everything. I will handle Papa Price too, since he is the only one I see after my dad was assassinated."

Simon's eyes softened, a rare vulnerability showing through. "Nora, you're incredible. I don't deserve you."

"Don't say that," I replied, cupping his face in my hands. "You deserve all the love and support in the world. You've been through so much, and you're still here, still fighting. That means something."

He leaned into my touch, closing his eyes for a moment. "You're my strength," he whispered. "I don't know how I'll manage without you, but knowing you're here, waiting... it gives me something to hold on to."

"And I'll always be here," I assured him. "No matter what. We'll get through this together."

He opened his eyes, filled with a determination that matched my own. "Together," he echoed.

A small part from the new episode of my novel.

[kerosene-in-a-blender]

Clerics, Their Gods, and the Importance of Context

I mentioned this a bit in my tags on this post, but I feel like it's a complicated enough topic that it deserves its own post. Pelor and Avandra had wildly different responses to both being asked the question, "Are you worth saving?", but they also were asked these questions in wildly different contexts by clerics they have wildly different relationships with, and these differences had a massive effect on how each deity answered the question. Because they gave the same answer, ultimately, Pelor was just far more aggressive about it.

Pelor and Deanna have an at best chilly, at worst openly confrontational relationship at the best of times. She believes in his teachings, and she deeply believes in aiding and nurturing people, but her relationship with the god himself is fraught due in large part to the circumstances she found herself coming into his light in. They're able to coexist fairly well for the most part, but after she found out what went down at the temple in Hearthdell, Deanna's idea of doing what's best for people and Pelor's idea of doing what's best for people clashed, hard. When Deanna asked if followers of the Dawnfather were perpetuating harm in the world, he responded that they were doing what was necessary for the greater good of everyone. Pelor was focused on the good that could be carried out by his followers securing a nexus point; Deanna was focused on the smaller-scale harm that was being done to the people of Hearthdell in the process. And this is where their fraught relationship came to a head. She worships the Dawnfather and serves as his cleric because she believes in helping people, but in that moment, he didn't seem to be helping people, just some abstract concept of the greater good. So she asked him what she wanted to know from him in that moment: "If you refuse to help people, and in fact harm them because you exist, than what is the point of you, Are you worth saving?" And Pelor responded exactly one as would expect someone to respond to being asked that question in that way: he refused to even entertain the conversation. And in doing so answered "Are you worth saving?" with a resounding "Yes", because someone being worth saving does not require that they justify themselves to someone else.

In contrast, FCG and Avandra have a much more openly supportive, and most importantly for this topic, openly dialectic relationship. FCG has approached Avandra for guidance and understanding as they try and figure out how to navigate being a person with a soul who wants to have faith but isn't sure how to approach it. And as such they've asked questions of her such as: "Are you there?" and "Are you watching me?" both of which she's answered affirmatively in a way that reflects their growing faith in her. They've begun developing a relationship that, at least to me, resembles that of someone finding a trusted mentor to help them through a time of crisis in their life. At the same time as FCG's been developing his relationship with the Changebringer, he's also been well aware of Ludinus' plan to unleash Predathos; he knows the gods are in danger. And if there is one thing FCG truly loves doing, it's helping people. So he asks of this person he's building a new relationship with: "Do you need help?". Because if she does than FCG genuinely wants to help her. It's also important to note that FCG is the only member of Bells Hells who is pro-god in the sense of: "I have a full relationship with a specific deity and I don't want the gods killed because of that relationship". (The others are more pro-god in the sense of "Fuck Ludinus" and "The gods are a force of good in the world that would be lost if they were dead".) They had the Bells Hells vote on whether they were "Pro-God", "Anti-God", or "Undecided" (all being undecided except for the pro-gods FCG, and Ashton, who abstained) on the same day as the commune in which they asked Avandra, "Are you worth saving?" In the context of that, and them previously extending an offer of help to her, "Are you worth saving?" becomes less of a question of, "Justify to me why you should continue to exist", and more "Am I doing the right thing?". And because of the relationship they'd previously established and the goodwill FCG had built up with her, Avandra was able to calmly approach him and answer, "Of course." Of course she's worth saving, of course they're doing the right thing in championing for her.

When Deanna asked Pelor, "Are you worth saving?", she did so to challenge him, and with the implication that she had already come up with an answer in her head, and that answer was "No". When FCG asked Avandra, "Are you worth saving?", he did so seeking guidance and reassurance, and with the implication that they desperately wanted to the answer to be "Yes". And that really made all the difference in the tenor of answer that they received.

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

To Maintain The Lie

Series: Rational Thinking Part Four

Summary: What does one call themselves when they are neither hero nor villain? Is there a word for those merciful lies told in order to champion truth? Where is the line between necessity and morality? You're not the hero in this story and you're not the villain. You're just the surgeon who stops a heart to prevent more pain. What a shame it is that life just isn't fair. || Kol x reader || Here lies my Masterlist ||

Warnings: Cannon typical violence, angst, language, some gore. I can't exactly call any of this fluff but these two are so in love it kinda makes me sick.

A/N: This part got so long that I had to split it in half. Expect a few pov changes as I try to widen the scope on this fic. (Or maybe I'm just showing off. Who knows?) Now, let's start the show.

🔪STORY BEGINS BELOW 🔪

Whoever first claimed that they were too young to die was an arrogant, entitled, narcissistic asshole. For you see, such a statement implied that life - or more accurately - death was somehow bound, or at least could be, by a human sense of restraint or equity. It alleged that there was such a thing as an age below which the universe simply could or should not tolerate a human being's loss of life.

But Jeremy Gilbert knew the truth. There was no such thing as fair. Equity was nothing more than a fantasy that humanity had invented to make themselves feel better because people die every day and the universe doesn’t give a damn how young they are. Some claim that tragedies and pain happen for a reason - that there’s a reward in the end for those who endure - but Jeremy didn’t believe that. No, he’d been suffering his whole damn life and every reward he thought he’d received had been mercilessly ripped away from him and if there was a reason for it, then it was not one he could see. Though, perhaps his true reward was nothing quite so grand as one would hope. Perhaps his only solace would be an escape from living with the crushing weight of loss. For now, it seemed, Jeremy Gilbert would die as he had lived - suffering.

So whoever it was that had first claimed themselves too young to die - that person was an arrogant, entitled, narcissistic asshole, he decided. Because he was dying - alone in the darkness and the dirt - and he was only seventeen.

There was nothing fair in that.'

"Damon, stop!" Elena's voice cried out from somewhere in the distance. The sound wasn't too far behind him - it was uncomfortably close. 

Jeremy Gilbert ground his teeth, dragging his broken body across the forest floor. Blood seeped from a gash in his arm. It was deep - the kind that would require stitches, but he couldn't afford to worry about that right now. For the moment, he needed to focus on surviving.

Y/N had warned him. She'd warned him, and he hadn't listened.

Jeremy bit his lip to keep himself from screaming as he shoved himself upward with all his might. His back slammed into a tree, and the boy gasped as a flash of pain shot through him. It mellowed out a moment later, joining the ambient agony he'd henceforth acquired. Adrenaline was dulling the worst of it which wasn't exactly encouraging. He didn't even want to consider how much pain he would be in if he survived this.

"I can't, Elena!" Damon's voice retaliated. "I've spent far too long engineering our mutual destruction already. Jeremy's Hunter's Mark puts us all in danger - puts you in danger!" 

“Jeremy’s my brother, Damon!” Elena argued. “Don’t you understand? He would never hurt me!”

Wouldn’t he? Jeremy wasn’t so sure anymore, not after hearing what Elena had done to his best friend and she’d done that while she was human. His sister was a vampire now. She had changed since the accident and not for the better. Jeremy could see it, even if he didn’t want to. If Elena lost control, if she did something bad - hurt someone, killed someone - if she couldn’t control it, then was it not his responsibility to protect people from her? Even if that meant putting her down?

But no. No, it wasn’t. Since when had it ever been his responsibility to hurt anyone, regardless of what they’d done? Jeremy was a damn teenager for crying out loud! He wasn’t a soldier - he was a kid! 

A-and killing Elena? That wasn’t him! Jeremey loved his sister. He loved her! Yet, those thoughts had sounded so reasonable and far too close to his own, blending so seamlessly he hardly noticed.

“No, Elena! It’s you who doesn’t understand,” Damon snapped. “I saw that kid draw a stake on the only real friend he’s ever had! Jeremy was ready to kill her and he didn’t even notice! How much longer before that’s you?”

Maybe Damon was right…

What was this hunter’s mark doing to him? 

Jeremy's sister said something else, but his enhanced hearing wasn't strong enough yet to catch it. Besides, his senses seemed to be fading in and out of focus at the moment, so he didn't bother with straining to hear, opting to draw his semi-auto from his waistband instead. He still had some fight left in him.

“We’ll find another way, Elena. You can’t take the cure if you’re dead.” The elder Salvatore's words filtered through the trees. "I'm doing what has to be done."

"NO!"

So this was how he was going to die. Was it a bad thing that he hoped this time would be permanent? Surely he'd served his sentence by now, hadn't he?

When Damon stalked out from between the trees in front of him, Jeremy knew his time was up. Sure, he had regrets - hell, he had more than he could count. Sure, he was supposedly too young to die, but when had that ever mattered in this godforsaken town? Sure, he knew he didn't deserve this fate, though for better or worse, this was the one he'd chosen. 

No, Jeremy Gilbert didn't want to die, but he had come to terms with his fate long before this moment. After all, he'd died and come back a few times already. (He wasn't sure whether that made him lucky or not.) He'd been living on borrowed time for a long while and he wasn't even sure if he'd really been alive for any of it. If now was his time to go, then he'd go out with a fight and smile when it was finally over. 

Whether Damon was right or not, Jeremy Gilbert was not about to go quietly into that good night. No, that boy had suffered far too much to make his death easy on whatever forces of nature demanded that he die before graduating high school. So, he thanked the Lord in heaven for the extra lives he'd been given - 'cause most other people only get the one - and he raised that gun in his hand to point at Damon's black, black heart.

"You're hesitating," The vampire noted. 

"There's only one bullet left," Jeremy replied, voice as dry as a desert as he stared that monster down unblinkingly.

"Good to know." Damon huffed a laugh. "Well, this is it, Baby Gilbert. No hard feelings?"

"Nah, I've got a few… dick."

Damon smirked. The cold, unhallowed blackness of the night around them filled his cold, dead eyes, spilling over like bleeding cracks down his cheeks. Jeremy's own eyes narrowed and the breath that left his lips, undoubtedly his last, turned to mist in the chilling evening air. His vision from exhaustion swam and his hand with three broken fingers shook because that gun was heavier than he'd thought it was going to be just a few months ago. In spite of his failing body, he did his best to aim as his finger tightened on the trigger.

The boy's soon-to-be murderer hissed and staggered back, but didn't drop dead. Jeremy had missed the monster's heart. That was alright, he supposed. After all, he was only a junior in high school - not a marksman, not a soldier, not even an adult - just a kid whose story was ending before it ever should have had to begin.

Jeremy lowered the gun and closed his eyes as Damon rushed forward.

Yet death, it would seem, was not quite ready to take him.

A breeze passed in front of his face and a growl ripped from Damon's throat. Jeremy opened his eyes. There in front of him stood Y/N, arms grappled around Damon's. It was a wrestler's hold she had him in, some random part of his dying brain noted. (The Olympic sort of wrestling, not the WW-E kind because he absolutely needed to know that in his last moments.) Damon’s face contorted into a grimace and he hissed, shoving the girl harshly. Y/N ground her teeth, digging her feet into the soil beneath them, and pushed back with a shout, refusing to lose. But Damon was older, and thus significantly stronger than she was. Her feet slid back inch by inch, but it wasn’t enough. 

Damon’s low growl morphed into a scream of pain and he reeled back. Jeremy’s stubbornly useless vision cleared just enough for him to see the smoke that curled off the elder Salvatore’s arms. 

“Oh, look. Tiny Sherlock’s here to save the day.” He backed off a couple of steps and took to prowling back and forth like a leopard searching for a chink in the armor of its prey. "Crazy how you always show up where you're least wanted."

Mist left the mouth of Jeremy's best friend in small puffs, her entire body was tensed in anticipation and Jeremy couldn't help but wonder who'd taught her how to fight. 

"What can I say?" The girl huffed, flicking a few loose strands of hair out of her face. "It's a talent."

Damon's footing shifted slightly to the right and Y/N adjusted her own to match, keeping herself between Jeremy and his intended murderer. The lips of the raven-haired vampire curled.

“Still can’t win a fight without cheating, I see,” He snarled bitterly.

On her arms, he now noticed, the girl wore a pair of sleek black gloves that extended up a ways past her elbows. She adjusted them carefully, staring the other vampire down as she did so and Jeremy’s addled brain finally made the connection. Vervain.

“Last I checked, there’s no such thing as cheating when a life is at stake. You taught me that, Damon.” Her voice was as icy and sharp as a winter storm. There were raging winds howling in the night behind her eyes. “Then again, I suppose that only applies when it’s Elena you’re saving. Anyone else be damned, right?” 

“I like to think it only applies once you’ve proven yourself.” Damon smirked. “Take off those gloves, why don’cha? I’m curious. Let’s see if you can beat me in a fair fight.”

Y/N snorted and shook her head. “You must really think I’m dumb, huh?”

“Nah, I just think you’re a coward,” He retorted.

“You’re wrong.” Y/N’s body shifted into a stance that was clearly defensive - an odd tactic for a person whose motto was “the best defense is a swift and decisive offense” - but usually it was only herself she was protecting. Now, she had to worry about Jeremy too and he couldn’t do a thing to help her. It wasn't often that the boy would admit to being useless but his body was seriously broken.

“Then prove it,” Damon challenged.

The girl just shook her head, eyes narrowing. Her expression was one of furious hail and tempestuous wind and her tone was made of frozen spears. “I have nothing to prove to the likes of you - ignorant, arrogant, faithlessly paranoid, pathologically manipulative, inconsequential scrap of agoraphobic slime. ” 

The expression that dawns across a person’s face when they realize they no longer hold any power over another, is somewhat hard to describe. It begins as something close to surprise, then morphs into indignation, before settling on cold hatred. 

Damon's black eyes narrowed. "You should have stayed dead."

"Funny," Y/N, hummed. "Did your dad say the same thing?"

He snarled in rage and leaped forward, sweeping his leg out to bring Y/N crashing down on her back. Then, he whirled to make a grab for Jeremy. All he would need was a millisecond - a quick snap of the neck and it was done. But Y/N wasn't going to let that happen. Her arm shot out and grasped Jeremy by the ankle, yanking hard. He cried out in pain as twigs and roots and who knows what else, shredded his back as she dragged his body behind hers and rolled onto her side. Damon reached toward her, but her foot lashed out and she landed a kick to the outstretched hand. Jeremy's enhanced senses discerned the telltale snap of breaking bone. The raven-haired vampire stumbled back, cursing and Y/N was up on her feet again in a second. Parrying his clumsy left hook, Y/N sent her knee flying into his stomach which knocked the wind out of him and gave her the opening she needed to get her hands around his throat.

A strangled sound escaped him, a mix of pain and breathlessness, as she pushed him back, vervain gloves burning his skin. He tried to rip her hands off him but only succeeded in torching his own as well. Throwing his weight backward sent both opponents to the ground and gave him a shot to roll out of her grip. Unfortunately, this was a move the girl was quite familiar with and she knew just how to counter it. She shifted her weight as they fell, curling her knees in. When Damon's back hit the dirt, her knees landed on his diaphragm. He lost most - if not all - of his remaining air and when he, in a daze, tried to move his arm, Y/N threw one leg out to the side to step on it. 

Jeremy was vaguely reminded of Black Widow.

Damon sputtered and coughed on the ground for a few seconds before falling silent but the girl didn't release him until his foot stopped twitching. Then she got up and raced over to the Gilbert boy, effortlessly lifting him off the ground in a fireman's carry.

"Day-um, Jerry-Berry!" The girl huffed, grinning at him. "What are you doing goin' around with all this beef? You're supposed to be a stick!"

Jeremy just raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, well - fighting for your life on a daily basis tends to do that to you." He was too tired to be witty. 

She snorted. "Touche." 

The boy closed his eyes and let his head roll back. "Not that I'm ungrateful, but uh - what the hell are you doing here?" He asked.

"No time to explain!" She answered brightly. "Hold on tight!"

Trees and plants were whizzing by in an instant, and Jeremy tried to ignore how his stomach dropped. He'd always liked roller coasters, but somehow the sensation was different when he was experiencing excruciating pain - the kind that's white-hot and threatens to make one throw up. He hissed as his best friend came to a sudden stop.  

She cursed. 

"He's back up," She said, turning around to watch the trees. "I was hoping to run you all the way, but we're not gonna make it. Can you stand?"

"I dunno... Maybe?" He shook his head. "Wait, what are you talking about? Where are we running to?" He demanded, hissing when the girl set him on his feet.

"No time. Do you think you can run?"

Jeremy's lips pressed into a thin line, annoyed. "Depends on where I'm going," He insisted.  

"Away from here!" Came her non-answer. He sent her a flat look and she frowned. "Come on, Jer. Don't you trust me?"

He wanted to say yes - immediately and without a doubt, yes. But how could he? Vampirism changed people. He hardly even recognized his own sister some days and he was beginning to wonder if the friend he'd thought he'd lost in Denver was the same girl who'd come back. She was trying to be the same, but her efforts felt to him like a snake trying to fit into a skin it had outgrown. There was this energy - wild and whimsical - that seeped between the edges now and it reminded him far too much of the person she now ran with. Jeremy wanted to trust her. 

But Kol Mikaelson? 

Never again.

"I don't know why you're helping me," He said with a sigh. He was so tired of this - running circles around trust and always being betrayed. To his surprise, the girl didn't get upset. She just nodded. 

"I'm helping because I like you alive… dumbass." Her voice was thin but it held a flicker of humor and warmth. "There's a car parked out on the road just beyond those trees." She pointed. "It's that Dodge Hellcat I always said I was gonna buy - can't miss it. I'll buy you as much time to get there as I can. Don't stop, and whatever you do, don't look back. Okay?" 

He hesitated just a moment but nodded. "Okay."

"What are you waiting for? GO!"

So he did. Jeremy ran as fast as his damaged legs could carry him, squinting through the tears in his eyes as the pain rose to a fever pitch. He ground his jaw against it, but he didn't stop, nor did he look back - even when he heard his best friend scream.

He burst through the trees after what felt like an eternity. Glancing up and down the street, he found the car Y/N had told him to look for. It was silver, just like she always said it would be. He limped towards it, his heart threatening to give out. Jeremy collapsed about five feet away, agony burning through every cell in his body but he refused to give up. He crawled the rest of the way, grasped the door handle with bloodied fingers, and flung himself into the passenger's seat.  

Every muscle in his body trembled as he forced himself to relax, groaning.

"This is insane," He breathed, tipping his head back against the headrest.

"Oh, it's about to get even better."

That all too familiar voice sent ice shooting through his veins. Jeremy slowly turned his head to see none other than Kol Mikaelson, smirking in the driver's seat. Their eyes met for a moment and both refused to blink. Kol’s mouth stretched into a grin while Jeremy’s own twisted into a grimace. Ten heartbeats. His hand flew to the door but Jeremy was met with the telltale click of the door’s lock before he could touch it. The human groaned.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

***

"Start the car, start the car, start the car!" You barreled out of the trees and raced for your beloved vehicle. Your boyfriend had been right - you should have brought the Jeep. "Start the f-ing car, Kol!"

You dove through the door's open window and into the backseat just as the engine roared to life. 

"Freaking FLOOR IT!" You ordered, unceremoniously shoving yourself upright. Kol floored it. Rubber burned and tires squealed but somehow zero to sixty in 3.4 seconds didn't seem fast enough with a determinedly homicidal vampire chasing you.

"This feels like a bad idea!" Jeremy cried over the roar of the open windows. He'd never admit it but mingled with the terror in his voice, there was also exhilaration. 

"Come off it, Jer," You said, smirking. "You know you've always wanted to go this fast." You patted his hand which clung to the armrest for dear life and leaned down. "Now, where did I put that thing?"

"Don't tell me you lost it, love," Kol teasingly complained from up-front. "Those things are dangerous, you know. Just think of what would happen if everyone were as irresposible with them as you are."

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, shut up you. Jeremy, don't agree with him." Your friend snorted and winced. Scrabbling around under the seat, your hand found cold metal and supple leather. "Found it." 

You grabbed the gun and sat up, ducking your head back out the window and twisting to aim at the streak of black that burst onto the road. Muggy summer wind whipped through your hair as the car accelerated to dangerous speeds down an unlit small-town road, though you would trust the boy at the wheel with more than just your life. 

Despite your vehicle's considerable speed of two hundred and three miles per hour, the black streak raced after you, slowly but surely gaining. You opened fire, trying to keep your aim steady, but the country road was less than standard. 

"Could you hit any more potholes?" You complained, reaching into the front seat. Kol pushed a new magazine into your palm and you quickly reloaded. 

"I don't know," He replied. "Are you aiming for the wretch's heart or his knees?"

You snorted. "More like his face."

"Admirable." He smirked. "Let him get a little closer."

"What?!" Both you and Jeremy demanded at the same time. You whirled around, eyes wide. Kol glanced at you through the rearview mirror.

"Trust me," He said. 

Trust. You could give him that.

You stopped firing. "And… that's the last of the ammo," You lied, speaking just loud enough for Damon to hear. He seemed to take that as encouragement. 

"Get your pretty little head back in here, please," Kol said pleasantly. You raised a brow but retreated back into the Hellcat. Twisting around, you had a decent view of the raven-haired vampire as he pushed closer and closer to the car's bumper.

"He's getting pretty close," You warned.

"Not yet, love," Came the response from the front seat. 

You sent him a flat look. "You're being just so comforting right now."

"Isn't it wonderful?"

You made a non-committal noise and checked the rear window again. 

"You guys argue like an old married couple." Pain morphed Jeremy's laugh into something that sounded more like a wheeze. You weren't quite sure how he could laugh when his life was at stake, but you took a little solace from it. 

"Aww, thanks."

"Don't thank him," Kol scoffed. "He just called you old."

"If I'm old, what does that make you?"

He just grinned. "Classic."

You smacked his shoulder and checked your flank again.

"You know, I never thought my life would be reduced to Death Cab lyrics," You observed, somewhat wryly, hands wrapped like a vice around the gun.

Under Kol's compulsion, Damon wouldn't give up the chase until Jeremy was either dead or outside the state of Virginia. It was odd. You had been the architect of this clever ploy, yet it would seem you hadn't fully anticipated how nerve-wracking your role within it would be.

Thus, the state line really did feel like the Berlin wall.

You just hoped you could reach it in time.

"Is now really the best time to be quizzing me on song lyrics?" Kol wondered, expertly rounding a bend at a speed no human could manage.

You shrugged. "Good a time as any."

He huffed a laugh and you suppressed a smile. It warmed you up inside to have someone who not only understood but who loved you for your nine-track mind.

"Crooked Teeth," He answered, somewhat smug. 

"Ah, he does pay attention," You mused distractedly. Behind you, that black streak drew within twenty feet. "Remind me, what are we waiting for exactly?"

"The opportune moment," Kol replied.

"So like, right now?"

"Nope."

Fifteen feet and closing.

"Now?"

"Wait."

Ten feet and closing.

"Kol - I love you - but you're really starting to worry me!" You said, watching Damon inch ever nearer.

"Patience, my flower." He purred, calm as a quiet grove after rain. 

Five feet.

"Sweetheart, he is literally riding our coattail!" You exclaimed, eyes wide.

Kol smirked. "Perfect." He glanced back at you. "Give Jeremy a hug, will you?"

Your eyes flew wide.

In that instant, a spark in your brain - that terrible blessing you'd been cursed with - flared to life. Calculations raced through your head, outpacing Newton's laws in the milliseconds before the impact.

Kol slammed on the breaks and time slowed.

(Solve the problem. Solve the problem. Solve the problem.)

4,000 pounds of carbon-fiber and steel traveling at 203 miles an hour - approximately 300 feet or 91 meters per second. That makes for a momentum of 364,000 pounds. 

(Fascinating but irrelevant. Get back on track.) 

A Dodge Hellcat's stopping distance equates to 107 feet at sixty miles an hour which becomes 368 feet at top speed, decelerating the vehicle in approximately 1.7 seconds. 

(You're running out of time. Think faster. Think faster.)

364,000 pounds of force brought to a standstill in 1.7 seconds results in a negative g-force of 5.48 exerted on the body.

(But what does that do? You have to act. Solve the problem.)

Three individuals in the vehicle. One vulnerable to breakage. Instant death - possible, but unlikely. Prioritize potential injuries - whiplash, concussion, internal hemorrhaging, ocular and auditory trauma, acute systemic failure, and aneurysm. 

(Time to react. What are you going to do?)

Conclusion: Mind the head.

You threw your arms up just in time to catch Jeremy's head as physics made an admirable effort to huck the entirety of the car's interior through the windshield. The grinding of gears and the screaming of tires on asphalt met your ears as inertia attempted to bifurcate the front seat using your body - a rather unpleasant experience, though you would take the physical pain of a few broken ribs over the anguish of losing your best friend any day. Smoke obscured your vision and the scent of burning rubber assaulted your nose, but you pushed through it, opening your eyes.

"And he sticks the landing!" Kol announced, glib as ever. "Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen."

"Kol-" You groaned, pushing yourself up to rest an elbow on his seat. "-you hurt my baby."

That car was your second love and whosoever was responsible would be intensely sorrowful should you find so much as a scratch in her paint.

"Eh, she's fine." He waved a hand dismissively. "Though, you may need to clean her up a bit because et voila!" The boy gestured behind the vehicle and you twisted around, squinting at the tarmac.

Damon's undead corpse, now quite prone, rested about fifty feet behind the car. Road rash would be a very tame description of his injuries seeing as about half his body was missing and most of his insides were splayed across the thoroughfare. He must have collided with the back of the car and flipped over the roof before being ground up by the wheels like rotten tomatoes in a blender. There was quite a lot of blood.

You turned back, grinning.

"Well, that's one problem taken care of!"

***

"You guys are insane," Jeremy groaned, rubbing his eyes. They hurt and he worried they might fall out of his head after that impact. On the bright side, he wasn't dead.

Y/N had tried to protect him, so that was something.

"You're just now figuring that out?" In the driver's seat, Kol tossed his head back, laughing. Oddly enough, it wasn’t the hyena laugh this time. It was warmer, more sincere. Jeremy just rolled his eyes, stretching out his aching neck.

"You good, Jer?" Y/N asked from the back seat. She reached up to squeeze his shoulder comfortingly.

A sharp pain burned in his chest as he shrugged. "I'm fine, I think. No thanks to your boyfriend here." Breathing hurt.

“Oh, bloody hell, mate!" It was Kol's turn to roll his eyes. "How many times do I need to say I’m not going to kill you?” He questioned, smirking amusedly.

“At least a hundred times after you stop trying,” Jeremy said. Though it pained him to speak, like something sharp writhing around in his chest, he expected that would fade. It wasn't like they'd been in a serious crash and as long as the injury wasn't critical or something that would require a cast, then the healing his Hunter's Mark provided would take care of it, he figured as the car began moving again - in less of a hurry this time.

Over the course of the next twenty minutes, the stabbing pain did not recede. If anything, it worsened. Discomfort built in his chest, thick and hot. 

As if he could sense it coming, Kol passed him a handful of tissues. Jeremy took them, albeit a little confused. Seconds later, a fit of rasping, retching, burning coughs tore through him. The boy doubled over, hacking into the tissues for longer than he wanted to think about. When his lungs finally calmed, Jeremy’s throat felt disturbingly wet. 

The vehicle was silent for three heartbeats.

"Jeremy?" Y/N's voice was very soft - filled with something more than worry.

“That…” Kol spoke up. “That did not sound good.”

Jeremy looked up only to be met with a sight he would have otherwise thought impossible. The original vampire’s eyes were wide and his mouth pressed into a thin line - his hand lingered in the air, half outstretched. Kol looked concerned - actually, genuinely concerned. He pointed to Jeremy’s hands. 

“And that’s definitely not good.”

Jeremy looked down. The wadded-up tissues were stained red, red, red. Yeah, that wasn’t the best sign. Jeremy felt dizzy. Breathing really hurt. His eyes felt heavy and everything smelled like pennies.

"What's going on?" Y/N demanded. "Kol, what can you see? Why is he coughing up blood? "

Damn it. Was he dying again?

Wow, his thoughts were really loud. More words were invading his ears but he only caught a few.

"-chest doesn’t seem to be caving… Did Damon hit your back?” Kol was asking. Sound was blurry.

“I, uh -” He thought about that. Thinking was hard and he was really tired. “He pushed me into a rock.”

Kol nodded, frown deepening. He glanced backward, meeting Y/N's eyes with a grim expression. "Can you hear it too?"

"I-I don't know," Y/N stammered, uncharacteristically unsure. "I mean, I hear something, but I don't know-"

"Yes, you do," Kol interrupted. "You know better than I, but I can't be sure unless you tell me. I know you would love to think you're just making it up, but if we can both hear it..." He trailed off.

The girl nodded, lips pressed into a line - eyes rimmed with red. "Yeah," She whispered. "I can hear it."

Kol nodded and turned back, his face a mask of calm. There was no snide smirk or predatory gleam. It was oddly comforting. 

“Alright there, mate. Don’t panic - but from what I can hear, it sounds like something has punctured your lungs, possibly a rib. I could make sure, but I’d have to touch your back.”

The hunter sent him a very flat look. He might have been dizzy and critically injured, but he wasn't stupid.

“You literally tried to Chewbacca my arms a few hours ago,” Jeremy wheezed. He wanted to take a deep breath but his lungs felt smaller than they should be. “Hands off.”

Kol rolled his eyes, cursing under his breath. “I panicked, alright?”

Jeremy raised a brow. “You pani-”

He was cut off by another vicious round of choked coughs. Blood spewed liberally from his lips this time and his chest felt hot and tight. Jeremy felt weak, weaker than he’d ever felt and he couldn’t breathe. 

“Oh, bloody hell. That’s definitely a punctured lung.” Kol laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing, pulling him back to reality. "Hey, Jeremy? Stay with me, alright?"

There was so much blood on the tissues and his hands. Some faint voice in the back of his mind told him he should be unconscious by now. The Mark was probably the only thing keeping him alive. He felt light-headed.

“I-I don’t want your help,” Jeremy spat past the blood in his mouth. “I’ll heal.” 

The original shook his head. “Not from this. Not on your own.” He cursed quietly and threw the car into gear, flooring the accelerator. 

"What can we do?" Y/N asked, voice thin - one hairsbreadth away from snapping. "Kol, what can I do? Just tell me what to do!"

"Nothing, darling. Don't do anything."

"I can't just sit here!" She protested. "If I give him my blood, that'll help right?"

“Under normal circumstances, I'd say yes; however, considering his Hunter's Mark, I fear his body might reject it - that could just make things worse," The original explained. His expression grew ever darker, like the summer sky as it prepared to unleash a tornado.

Y/N cursed and Jeremy's vision grew dark. His eyes threatened to close. He was so tired. 

Kol shook him a little, sending pain soaring through his system and snapping him back to attention. He was fading - Jeremy was fading fast. “Hey, listen to me, alright? We’re going to get you to a hospital. You’re going to be alright, mate. Just stay awake. Just keep those eyes open and you’ll be fine - Y/N, keep him awake. Do not let him fall unconscious.”

Jeremy scowled, fighting against a tide of pain and exhaustion that threatened to pull him under. “What do you care?” He demanded.

“Are you kidding?” Kol flashed him a wry smile. “Y/N would have my head if I let you die.”

"Got that right." His best friend chuckled from the back seat and through the haze, Jeremy felt her fingers tangle with his. "You're gonna be okay, Jerrie-berry," She whispered. "I promise."

***

You'd always hated hospitals.

Now, perhaps that animosity could have been chalked-up to the slightly disturbing notion that was your current existence - seeing as the only room in such an establishment you could rightfully belong in now was the morgue. (A rather unpleasant thought, any way you slice it.) However, you'd never really been fazed by the whole "undead" thing. You didn't really think of yourself as dead - merely experiencing alternative states of mortality. So, none of that really upset you.

It was the dishonesty of the whole thing, you decided. Yes, that was it. 

A hospital was merely one gigantic lie.

The walls and floor were far too white for a place steeped so thickly with blood and death. Instruments, people, floors, walls, and ceilings were barren, scrubbed within an inch of their lives. In an institution that idolized wellness and health, the halls were much too stark and silent, empty of all life save for the souls who were paid to be there. Even the guest accommodations were deceitful. Chairs sporting upholstery that looked like it should have been soft on frames that should have been somewhat comfortable, all came up disappointingly short. 

The feeble whimpers of the sick and dying - hundreds of them - thrummed in your ears. Doctors that proffered the hope of extended life - of more time - fragile conjunctures they couldn't guarantee. Eyes that smiled with mouths that grimaced beneath masks.

It was all a lie.

Your hands clenched into fists.

"Hey, hey…" Kol's soft voice was there at your ear in a millisecond. His right hand covered yours, squeezing comfortingly while his other combed expertly through your hair. "Don't get upset. It's alright, he's doing just fine. No need to get worked up, darling. You're alright."

You'd ranted to him about this before. A deep-rooted hatred for hypocrites and self-righteous insincerity was something you shared, though not quite in all the same ways. He'd found your distaste for hospitals funny then - not here though, not now.

You nodded - a hollow gesture just like this hollow pantheon of medicine. Telling yourself that he would be fine felt like a lie. Not that Kol would ever lie to you, not intentionally. He was generally the more optimistic one, though.

It wasn't a lie itself that you hated. (After all, some lies are necessary; like the one you found yourself tangled in.) Rather, it was the concept of pointless lies that you abhorred. Deceit without true purpose irked you. Why couldn't people just say what they meant - what they knew to be true? Kol was only trying to make you feel better and you understood that, but you didn't want empty comfort. 

You didn't want to feel peaceful now - happy, hopeful - if you were just going to be sad later.

What was the point in feeling good now, if you were only going to feel sad later?

Kol had told you what despair was. You didn't want to feel that again.

But that wasn't up to you. Fate's cruel strings lay in the hands of those doctors in the room before you, carving up your best friend in an attempt to save his life.

From where you sat, nestled firmly in Kol's lap, you could hear the doctors working on Jeremy. The prognosis wasn't good. Yet, the boy in whose arms you rested still offered you hope.

"I'm not sure how much longer I can stay here with you," He murmured, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple. It took all the strength you had to nod again, trying to hold it together, but the rest of your body betrayed you. Your trembling hands constricted, nails digging into his skin. Kol just held you tighter. "I know, I know. I'm pathetic, but all the free food around here is getting to me, love," He tried to joke.

Curiously, you found yourself wroth with him all of a sudden. Why couldn't he just ignore it? Why couldn't he just focus? Keeping the hunger in check really wasn't that hard. Why did he struggle so badly? 

Why did he want to leave you when you needed him most? Why did everyone always leave you?

"Darling, please say something."

You hadn't said a word since the doors to the operating room closed. That was three hours ago. So what?

You looked up at him, eyes empty.

"Are you leaving me too?" You wondered. Your tone wasn't aggressive or snide, though for anyone else it would have been.

Kol's chocolate eyes traded worry for anguish, but the pain in them wasn't for himself. Tangling his fingers in your hair, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours - warm and soft but absent of the usual fluid heat his kisses sent dripping down your spine. Inside, you just felt cold.

"No, Y/N," The boy promised. "I'm not leaving you. Not now - not ever." He drew you closer, tucking your head under his chin. He swayed back and forth slightly - no one had ever held you with such care. "Though I may not always be by your side every moment of every day, I will be here when you need me. I'm not going to leave you and neither will Jeremy."

"Don't pretend to care about him," You sighed bitterly. 

"Oh, I don't." Kol hummed. "But you do and the last thing I want is to see you hurting. That's how it is when you love someone."

You huffed. "Sounds annoying."

"Not when it's you."

"That's nice."

He shrugged. "You could use a little nice."

"Who are you and what have you done with Kol Mikaelson?" A smirk tugged at your lips, though you didn't quite permit it. Your mouth had always run faster than your head anyway so there was no real need to end that tradition. 

He laughed and you felt that boy's teeth nip a little at your ear. "Oh, now that was uncalled for."

You hummed, but couldn't find it within yourself to keep teasing. Kol pressed another kiss to your hair and the two of you just sat quietly for a moment.

"How do you know he's gonna make it?" You asked, pursing your lips to keep them from trembling.

Kol shook his head softly. "I don't," He admitted. He took a deep breath and continued, sounding pensive. "That's the problem with the world today, I think. Everyone, everywhere… as a people, you've all lost faith." The boy tugged at a lock of your hair, twirling it around and around his finger. "And in that loss, you know longer know what you can trust."

"Trust?" You scoffed. "Trust who? Those doctors in there? My only friend's lungs are impaled on his ribcage. What can they really do besides make sure he dies a little less dead?"

That sweet boy pulled away from you, just enough to look into your eyes as he lifted your chin with his finger.

"Trust Jeremy, Y/N - trust your friend. Trust that he loves you, despite his faults and misgivings, and trust that he's fighting for life at this very moment."

Your words came out quite broken and you knew you must be crying. "And if that's not enough?"

"Then trust me," He said. "Trust that I'll protect you when things go wrong - from fate and from yourself."

You nodded and this time, it wasn't so empty.

"Alright," You said, curling up in his lap a little more. "Yeah, I think I can do that."

"I know you can," He said. You turned your gaze toward the doors of the operating room once more. 

"He can never find out what we did." Your voice was spider silk - thinner than a hair, yet pound for pound stronger than steel. Kol nodded, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. 

"And he never will."

***

Niklaus Mikaelson was, by no means, an expert in all things magical. (No, that title fell to his little brother - a terrifying thought, truly. Maddening that fact was, every time he permitted himself to dwell on it for any length of time.) However, he supposed that his status as an original vampire - hybrid actually, to be more precise, but that was irrelevant at the moment - ought to make him the local authority on the subject of compulsion, or more prudently, the compulsion of other vampires.

Damon Salvatore, on the other hand, was an unsavory lad in the purest definition of the locution. Strong-willed, and pig-headed, he reminded Klaus somewhat of a coyote - that is, if a coyote could be driven by spite. Thus the possibility seemed extremely remote that one such as Damon Salvatore would take well to compulsion. Any action taken by him, if not of his own willful volition, even if he weren't aware of it, would be made obvious to others by his subconscious mind in an attempt to spite whoever had compelled him. In other words, the man was just too damn stubborn for mind control to work properly.

"So?" The irritating Bennet witch demanded as Klaus strolled leisurely from the cramped and filthy confines of the Salvatore's basement. Honestly, he was no clean freak, but he had heard of this brilliant invention called a mop. "What's the verdict?" 

"I'm afraid I have to diagnose your friend with a terminal case of stupidity," The hybrid said, smirking amusedly. His eyes flicked briefly around the room, scanning for any sign of a trap. He found none, but that only served to heighten his suspicion. Legend hadn't deemed him a paranoid genius for nothing.

The young girl didn't seem to find his jest humorous. Her eyes narrowed, glowering at him the same way her ancestors used to.

"Has he been compelled or not?" She pressed, teeth grinding.

All pretenses of mirth dropped from Klaus' face. "As best I can tell, no," He answered grimly. "I'm afraid his actions… unexpected and jarring as they may be, are entirely his own."

"What?" The doppelganger gasped. "That-that can't be right! Kol - your brother must have compelled him. I'm sure of it!"

The hybrid's eyes flicked in her direction. Behind her - silent and stoic as a mountain with impeccable hair - stood the younger Salvatore brother. Regrettable it was, Klaus thought, that he'd resigned to being so boring. Stefan's expression decided to take a respite from brooding long enough to avow contemplation. 

"Your accusations - while just and reasonable - don't particularly matter, love," Klaus said with a slight shrug. "He hasn't been compelled, or if he has, then he's under the most complex and thorough compulsion I've ever encountered."

"But how do you know it wasn't your brother who did it?" Asked a particularly delightful blonde, standing in the furthest corner of the room from him. He had to wonder if she did that on purpose.

"Well, to put it quite simply, Caroline -" He couldn't help but smile when he spoke to her. "- I know my brother's handywork, and this is not it. Comparing the two would be like comparing a sledgehammer to a feather pillow, love. Kol is far too sloppy for this to be his doing."

That last statement in particular wasn't entirely true. Yes, his brother could be careless, but when given proper incentive, he could be every bit as wily and conniving as the woman that created them - if not doubly so. He could outwit the furtive predator he was so often compared to in legend. There was a reason that boy was cited as the worst of the worst - the wildest of the Mikaelson clan. There was a reason Klaus had sooner chosen to ambush and incapacitate his brother rather than risk outright conflict with him. It was intellect that made his brother so deeply formidable; a vast intellect behind a careless facade and he wielded it like a surgeon's instrument. Given any time to think - a second, a heartbeat - Kol would always win. 

He only had one true weakness, one Klaus had so often employed. Kol was a whimsical being - easily and often distracted by every fleeting impulse. Tasks or threats to be handled needed to be clear-cut and direct, clearly defined, and very, very real in order for Kol to handle them. Had Klaus and his family been born in the current century, his little brother would be the kind of boy who puts off writing an essay or studying for a test until the night before it's due. The type to do the homework as the professor is collecting it and still get an A.

So it wasn't that Kol couldn't have compelled Damon - he was most certainly capable of the methodical complexity required - it just didn't seem like his style. 

What was infinitely more likely, and infinitely more troubling, Klaus thought, was the possibility that Kol had quite simply convinced Damon of the danger one very young hunter posed to the ever-precious Miss. Gilbert. Wily Fox was an apt moniker, indeed; even as a child, the former witch had always been so... gifted with persuasion. If not for Rebekah's loud and loyal heart, the hybrid was positive Kol would have turned their little sister against him eventually. 

Thus, if Damon Salvatore was a coyote - a lone, fickle scavenger - then Klaus doubted his brother would have to work hard to sway his judgment. There was something honest about him, something raw, vicious, and candid, that belied his devious ways; it was something Klaus himself could never seem to match. Trepidation is an excellent motivator and Kol certainly had a knack for ghost stories; yet, his stories in particular had long since possessed quite the kicker. 

They were always, always true. 

As a boy, Klaus remembered, Kol had once told villagers around the bonfire of a wraith he'd seen, wandering the woods roundabout the falls. No one believed him then either. On the following morn, that little dark-haired runt of a boy brought home the monster's corpse.

(So, truthfully, Klaus knew he should be on his brother's side this time. However, doing so would conflict with his purposes and the hybrid had never been one to deny himself anything. Especially not something he'd been pursuing for a millennium.)

Damon's actions spoke more to paranoia than undue influence. Paranoia was something Klaus knew intimately. Paranoia cannot be abated.

A dishearteningly sober voice tore the hybrid from his spiraling reverie. 

"Call him," Stefan said. Klaus lifted a brow. Had he not given his conclusion? Were they not done here?

"Pardon?"

"Call him," The stern teenager repeated. "Call your brother and demand he tell you the truth."

Klaus narrowed his eyes and began to pace, hands clasped behind his back - it helped him think.

The other blonde in the room - Rebekah had been henceforth preoccupied with sculpting her nails - hummed. A not-quite-pleasant tone that drew close to amusement with a veiled dose of ire. "Yes, please call him, Nik. Because we all know how demanding things of Kol tends to be a spectacularly pleasant experience."

The hybrid grimaced. She had a point there.

"How do you know he won't just lie?" Bonnie asked, hostility more than prevalent in her tone. 

"He won't," Klaus conceded, almost to himself. 

"How do you know?" Elena pressed. 

Within a blink, he had that pesky doppelganger by the throat, lifting her into the air. "You impugn my word?" He asked pleasantly. 

She didn't struggle. The girl just glared. "Routinely." 

A smirk tugged at his lips and he let her go, returning to his pacing. She coughed and staggered but her pride demanded that she remain upright. That one was becoming more and more like dear Katarina every day. Across the room, Rebekah sighed, flopping onto a sofa the same way she did everything - dramatically. She shaded her eyes with her arm as though she had an agonizing headache, though such pains were physically impossible for the undead to contract. 

"Kol never lies once called out on the act," She declared with finality. "He's been that way since we were children. For all his scheming, the maniac's a bloody awful liar." Klaus huffed a laugh. That bit was true. "Just call him, Nik. I want to get this over with."

Klaus flashed her a scathing look, but she was - as per bloody usual - unfortunately right. He pulled out his phone and dialed Kol's number. He just hoped his little brother remembered how to operate the device. He probably would - Kol remembered everything.

The phone rang once. 

"Put it on speaker," Caroline said, crossing her arms as each of his enemies drew a step closer. He sighed but did as requested.

The phone rang twice and then three times. Only halfway through the fourth ring did the Wily Fox pick up.

"Well, well, well..." His little brother drawled, blithe and cavalier as always. "I was wondering how long it would take for you to come barking up the wrong tree. Looks like I've lost a bet." He laughed and it was the cold, empty laugh he'd picked up since touring Africa.

Klaus pointedly ignored the dog pun and instead put on a fake smile. "Well, you know how it is. One does what one must when one's doppelganger comes groveling to one's knees, alarmed by her boyfriend's spontaneously homicidal behavior, and… well, whenever I think of manslaughter I think of you, Kol."

"Really?" The voice on the phone gibed. "That's funny because - and I swear it's like magic - but you open your mouth, and my mind drifts to fratricide... and daggers."

Another jab which Klaus ignored. 

"You seem to have made a mess, little brother," He said.

"Have I? Oh, dear... that must be inconvenient." Klaus could practically hear him grinning. "Say, how is - oh, what's his name? - Damien, was it? Has one of Elena's worshipers managed to scrape his intestines back together or are they permanently smeared into the asphalt?" 

Out of sheer curiosity, Klaus spared Elena a glance. She looked positively murderous. 

"I'm afraid he's going to be just fine."

"That's a shame." Kol hummed.

"It is," He agreed. "However, it so happens that Salvatore's intestines are not the mess I'm referring to." 

The boy gasped, mockingly. "No shit?"

"No," Klaus said, voice clipped. "I'll make this simple for you, Kol. Did you or did you not compel Damon Salvatore to hunt and/or kill Jeremy Gilbert?"

That cold, hyena laugh came again. There was something distinctly raw to it this time, something harsh and strained yet oddly broken; like a wounded animal rather than a rabid one. When he spoke, however, there was nothing in his words save for wrath. 

"You would love that wouldn't you?" Kol spat. "Yet another problem you can solve with a dagger - quick and tidy. You're such a hypocrite! You and Elijah!" His voice quieted and warped into something acidic disguised as honey and song. "And even you, my little sister." The blonde on the couch froze and the color drained from her face. There was fear in her eyes as if she'd seen a ghost. 

"Hello, Rebekah!" Kol practically sang. "I could hear your fingernails drumming, you do that when you're nervous." 

"And why exactly would I be intimidated by you?" Bekah did an excellent impression of boredom but her wide, shaken eyes met Klaus' own in search of reassurance. 

"Oh, sweetheart. Don't think for a second that I don't know what you did in nineteen-fourteen." From carefree and playful to downright vicious, his tone turned on a dime. "You ratted on me, Bex."

Rebekah shot to her feet, fists clenched. "So what, Kol? You're going to take away my only chance at happiness because I told on you?"

"No," Kol snapped. "I am going to save your life because I love you! This cure you think you understand is not your chance at happiness. After all these years, can't you see it? Have you not figured it out? The three of you keep lying to yourselves whilst punishing me for facing the truth.

"WE ARE ALL OF US TRAPPED, REBEKAH! This existence our mother bound us to is a trap and we cannot get out! WE ARE NEVER GETTING OUT! You and Nik can scream and cry and rattle the bars all you wish but none of us are ever going to escape lest we meet a very permanent end." 

"You don't know that!" Their sister cried, tears beginning to verge in her eyes. 

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't! Silas isn't even real!"

"Bloody hell, Rebekah! Why won't you see it? WHY WON'T ANY OF YOU JUST LISTEN TO ME?!" There was desperation in that question and Klaus could only pretend he hadn't heard it.

"BECAUSE YOU'RE WRONG!" Rebekah was weeping now. "You're wrong and you're just angry with yourself because we have a chance at getting back what we lost and you're too scared to take it!"

"Do you think I haven't tried?" Kol seethed, voice thick with more pain than any of them could say. "I've searched a thousand years for such a miracle while you did nothing but mourn your own loss. Don't you dare call me a coward for facing the truth! We died, Bex. We died and we're staying dead. Silas or no - this 'cure' is not the answer."

A tense silence hung in the air and Klaus had to break it. He had to because if he didn't then he would admit that his little brother was right.

"You didn't answer the question, Kol," He said cooly, his tone a warning.

"You don't believe me." His little brother gave a bitter, miserable laugh. "Can't say I hoped you would. Well, in that case, I don't suppose I can express just how much it thrills me to report that this particular mess won't be so easily locked away in a casket. I merely tried to convince Damon to examine his priorities - it's not my fault he's been gunning for an excuse to kill the kid."

Elena, trembling with a lover's fury, lost her patience. "YOU LIAR!" She screamed. "You horrid filthy liar!"

"Are those the best insults you've got, love? I'm afraid I've known nuns who've called me worse," Kol jeered. He was back to sounding listless. In the corner, Caroline opened her mouth as if to question, but thought better of it. Klaus smirked at her and shrugged, nodding. She seemed vaguely disturbed by that knowledge. 

Elena, in a startling show of nerve, stormed over to where Klaus stood and snatched the phone from his hands. "Tell me where my brother is, you son of a bitch," She growled. 

The boy on the other end hissed. "Oh, no I'm afraid I can't do that. Telling you would defeat the whole 'Get-Jeremy-the-Hell-Out-of-Dodge' plan which would be going spectacularly had your boyfriend not broken half of the kid's ribs."

Elena paled. "Where is he? What did you do to him?"

"Are you deaf?" Kol sneered. "As I said, the only person with intentions to cause your brother harm is Damon. I intend to cure him... as soon as he wakes up. Then I'll be more than glad to bring him right back home - that is, if he ever wants to see any of you again. Now, this has all been a thoroughly unpleasant and pointless experience, so if that's all then I'll be hanging up now. Thanks for nothing, brother." There was a short pause and Klaus could have a sword he heard someone speaking on the other end - a girl. Kol's voice returned for one short statement. "Oh, and Stefan? Y/N says hi." 

Then he hung up.

***

Kol got off the phone and sighed, shoulders hunched as though they carried the burden of Atlas. He turned to you, but didn't meet your gaze. His eyes were rimmed with red. You didn't know what to say. You were still so new to the whole feelings thing and you didn't want to mess it up, but you couldn't just abandon him either.

Jeremy was alright now. He was stable and healing quicker than should be possible. He'd been in and out of consciousness for the past few hours since, sleeping in the second bedroom of the hotel you were currently hiding out in. He was fine now and you could think.

Even when you were so wrapped up in your own head - hardly able to think through everything you were feeling - Kol had been there. He had stayed with you at the hospital through it all and he had struggled to do so; curbing his appetite pained him, you knew, but he'd stayed anyway. He had stayed because you needed him and you were okay now, but he wasn't. The least you could do was return the favor.

"Are you alright?" You asked. It was pathetic but you didn't know what else to do. "That sounded… heavy."

Kol bit his lip, trying so hard to smile for you. He didn't want to burden you with his internal struggle when you already had one of your own. But he had been the one to explain to you what love really was. What your cruel mother had led you to believe for so many years was wrong.

Love is not about solving problems. Love is not defined by whether or not one party can "fix" the other. Love didn't mean perfection. It wasn't like that at all.

Love is more like sharing an umbrella. It wasn't necessarily about being shielded from the rain and it didn't matter why one person didn't have an umbrella of their own. What mattered was that the other party was willing to share.

Love is like buying an ice cream cone for someone who's upset. Because sure, it doesn't fix the problem, but perhaps it could warm their heart for a moment. And it didn't matter if the wrong flavor was chosen because the simple existence of that ice cream cone is enough to prove that someone else cares.

Love is like helping someone learn to skate. Picking them back up every time they fall even if that means being pulled down with them sometimes. It means taking a moment to lay on the floor and laugh with them while other people - sometimes many, many other people, who always manage to seem so graceful - move on and around and past you. What matters is working together with that person to stand up and keep going, even if it's only to fall right back down mere seconds later.

Love is like taking a person to Niagara Falls, even though you'd already been. Love is doing things for someone even when they don't ask. Love is like a person jumping into a puddle of mud because a taxi just came by and splashed some all over you. Love is like hate-watching a movie with someone just to listen to them rant about it.

Love wasn't about feeling happy all the time. Sometimes it was just about being sad at the same time.

Love was what you had with Kol.

So when he flashed that strained smile and said - "I'm fine." - you just shook your head.

"No, you're not."

He laughed, bitter and broken. Then he raced across the room and threw his arms around you and you caught him. He didn't fall apart though, because this wasn't the first time and he was used to this same old story even though he should never have needed to be.

"They don't listen," He hissed painfully, face buried in your neck.

Well… you knew what that was like. 

"No." You shook your head. "They don't."

"They would rather cling to their delusions than just trust me."

"People don't trust the things they'd rather fear," You said, combing your fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry fate forged you this way." 

That boy clung to you tighter, grasping handfuls of your shirt. "I suppose that makes us kindred souls, you and I," He muttered. There was acceptance in his voice now. "Made to be hated. Given claws and teeth and punished for them."

You turned your head and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Well, if that's the case, then I'm glad I became who I am."

"Why?" He asked.

"So you wouldn't always be alone," You decided. "I'm grateful to everything that made me, if all of it was what led me to you."

Kol sighed and shook his head. "Darling, I'm not worth everything that happened to you."

"Yes, you are." Your tone didn't leave room for any further protests on his part, so the two of you simply held each other for a while. He'd been right in what he'd said before. It wasn't annoying - not when it was him.

Once he could breathe a little easier, Kol slid his hands to your thighs and hoisted you up, prompting you to hook your legs around his waist. He walked over to the hotel couch and laid you down, quickly positioning himself over you. Gazing down at you, he just smiled and pushed a lock of hair out of your face. Kol leaned down and met your lips. It was a slow, meaningful kiss and you smiled into it as he let himself unwind, melting against you with a sweetness he showed no one else. Then he stilled. When he pulled away, there was something odd in his eyes. You thought it looked a little bit like dread but there was more to it. He opened his mouth, blinking rapidly and you caught sight of an acute pain that you’d never seen in him before. 

“Kol?” You frowned. 

“I’ve doomed you,” He said quietly, almost to himself. “Bloody hell, darling… I-I’ve just killed you.”

His words left you speechless. Guilt wasn’t an emotion you associated with him.

“What are you-”

“It’s Klaus, don’t you understand?” Kol moved off of you and stood, tearing his hands through his hair. “We took the cure from him. Darling, my brother is never going to stop hunting me for what we’ve done and now I’ve just implicated you!”

You blinked, raising a brow. “Pretty sure I was implicated from day one…” 

“No! No, you weren’t. Only to Elena’s little cult, not to my siblings.” His gestures grew wilder as he paced, hands shaking, breathing erratic. “You were there, but you were nothing. You weren’t important-”

“Ouch.”

“No, don’t you see, love? To them, you-you were just an accessory.”

“I remember Rebekah being very aware that t’was I who stole the twig of destiny,” You pointed out. 

“But you stole it for me,” He maintained. “She didn’t know who you are, what you’re capable of. Neither did my brother but now, with all of them working together…” His voice trailed off and he stopped pacing. His eyes met yours dejectedly, waiting for you to put it together.

You nodded, pursing your lips. “Now, Mystic Squad Goals is gonna tattle on me,” You finished. He was right. You’d had a way out before, but that was gone now. “I’m just as guilty as you are.”

Kol sighed and shook his head. Shame rolled off him in waves. “I’m such an idiot.” He cursed quietly. “This is exactly what you wanted to avoid. If I had just taken a moment to think, this never would have happened. Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not.”

His head shot up. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not sorry.” You shrugged. Something inside you crumpled, yet you managed to smile. “Life on the run doesn’t sound so bad. I mean, there’s still a lot of stuff I think I wanna see. A-and we can go anywhere, right?” Your laugh wasn’t entirely real but it wasn’t completely fake either. Kol moved to sit beside you with a sigh. 

"Darling, you understand what this means, don’t you?” Kol asked softly, looking at you through the corner of his eyes. You bit down on your lip, nodding though your eyes stung. “If Jeremy chooses to go back…” He hesitated.

“I’ll never see him again,” You whispered. 

He touched your arm, ever so gently. “And you’re ready for that?” He asked. “To say goodbye?”

You wiped your eyes and sniffed. This wasn’t the paralyzing pain you’d felt a few days before. It hurt, yes. But with that pain came the realization that you’d known this was coming. You’d always known, even before vampires came back to Mystic Falls. You’d known that life is a bittersweet thing. Childhood friendships are great but they’re just that. People grow up and grow apart because friends… well, friends aren’t really meant to last forever. They come and go. They live their lives, move away,  fall in love, and have a family - or maybe they don’t. Maybe they get in a car crash and die early, or maybe they spend their life traveling with their dog. Point is, they leave and most people don’t know which goodbye will be their last. 

You would miss Jeremy, of course. But you could live on without him. Just so long as you knew he’d be okay.

Because goodbye doesn't mean the end - not completely - and goodbye can't erase all the happiness that came before it; though, isn't it a miracle that any of it happened at all? Goodbye just means leaving and leaving, you’d discovered, isn’t always a bad thing. Leaving means moving on - finding something new.

“You know, I think I am?” You smiled faintly. “I wasn’t before, because he wasn’t okay. I didn’t want to fail him. But we’re doing something good, I think, and he’ll be better off.” Huffing a laugh, you took Kol’s hand and met his eyes, looking at the boy you had left your old life for.

“So, no. I’m not sorry, Kol.” You decided. “I’d do it all again in a heartbeat as long as I get to stay with you.” 

The smile that broke out across that boy’s lips could have outshone the sun as he pulled your hand to his mouth and left a soft kiss on your knuckles. 

“How did I get so lucky?” He wondered. You bit your lip against a cheezy grin and looked at the floor, feeling your cheeks warm. You still couldn’t help it. After all, Kol was the first person to describe your presence as lucky.

“Save that for when your brother decides not to impale you on a tree,” You said nudging his arm. 

“Ah! That would be the miracle, wouldn’t it?” He said. You hummed in response, nodding. A beat passed between the two of you in silence. Then, you remembered. 

“Hey, we gotta hide the Kill-Me-Stick.”

Tagging: @yn-ymn-yln@r13mar@rootbeerfaygo@iiskittles16ii@fandomrulesall-blog@dark-night-sky-99@railingsofsorrow@apolloroid@thatweirdoleigh@misswe03@eat-cake@felinegrate@trikigirl271@cute-freak27@fayeatheart@archangelslollipop @aonungs-tsahik @sleepneverheardofher @space-princess-charming@heartbreakgrill@whatsupb18 @enchantedlandcoffee @trikigirl271 @kleinegamerin Really sorry if I missed anyone! If you requested to be on the taglist, just DM me and I'll fix it!

[fractalcloning]

In the shadow of Ganmadan.

It was a little offensive, the clear sky and beautiful weather. It should be raining, thundering, like in her dreams--red and scary, foreboding--but it isn't. Jean Luc Picard died and it is...just another day. She knows that Alton Soong and Dr. Jurati are working on it, maping and copying his neural patterns into the golem Soong had reserved for himself. There's no guarantee it will work, that they can take the patterns off a dead man and expect them to function. He may not be restored at all, and Soji feels terribly lost. She has siblings here, dozens of them, but she's the odd one out. Not one of them can really comprehend what she's been through in the last few days. None of them can even start to relate. Dahj is gone. Her mother is an AI, a holo construct that was meant to keep her from breaking her cover. Narek is--somewhere outside. In a cell? The fact that she'd even consider talking to him only enhances her distress. She's all alone. Again. And the Romulan fleet is gone, but so is most of the Starfleet one. They are defenseless, completely out of orchids, and only Soji seems to recognize that the danger hasn't passed. That they aren't actually safe from anything. Another nudge to her bedrock could topple everything again, and again, and again and she chose to let the guarantee of safety go. She hates herself for giving that up, for shutting down the transmitter, and then hates herself in another way for even considering summoning the extra-galactic synthetics. Her life isn't worth every organic one. It's objectively true but so very hard to remember when the threat of death and destruction seems to hover over her like her own personal raincloud. So Soji sits, miserable and distraught, on the edge of Alton Soong's desk and tries not to think about it. Unfortunately the only distractions she has are the synthetics littered around the office. Alton Soong had been so proud, so excited to show her his prototypes. The golem, the next set of fractal clones, mice for Spot II to chase. Each one was meticulously designed and he loved them, truly. His crowning masterpiece was the reproduction of Data. It took up the center of the room and all Soji could do was stare. He looked peaceful, like he was sleeping and not just an empty, expertly sculpted husk in a stasis chamber. She was almost jealous, that he got to sleep so softly while she was vibrating with anxiety about the next calamity, the next loss, the next inevitable, crushing death. She runs both hands through her hair, tugging it to try and clear the maudline catastrophizing. It half works. "I wish I could have met you," Soji says to the stasis chamber and her arms drop back to her sides. "If half of what everyone said was true, you'd probably have something profound to say."

"Or...at least you might give me a hug."

She was tearing up, thinking of her Dad, the fake ghost in her dreams. He never existed but she had memories of him saying profound things. She recalled her mom trying to cheer her up--or Dahj, who may have actually done that before they were separated. Picard had even tried to comfort her, in his own way--and now she comes back to Narek again. The last man standing. God, her life was pathetic if the Tal'Shiar were her best choice for a hug. She wipes her eyes and tries to stop thinking again. It doesn't work any better this time. "Fuck," Soji says to the empty room. To the construct that is not her kind of father. It required a quantum computer to hold what they had of Data's neural patterns--if the code, the information, were any less she might have been able to boot him up, to talk to him through holograms like she did her mom, but even Soji understood that he was too complex for that. Data required a body and Soong had never completed the method to transfer-- "Wait--Agnes fixed it," Soji says, largely to herself, partly to the construct. Alton Soong had lamented how his masterpiece copy of Data would forever lie dormant. Because Bruce Maddox hadn't finished the work to make transfering consciousness possible. But Dr. Jurati had finished it. They were using it on Picard right now. Which meant-- Soji shot up from the side of the desk and all but darted to the stasis pod in the center of the room. Now, looking at the unoccupied copy, she saw something other than a hollow body--she could--she could put him back, right? If it were a copy of Data, he could work in this body? She immediately pulls up the controls on the stasis chamber and snatches a data slate off Soong's desk. Data was kept in the computer, he was the cornerstone of it, she should be able to just...run Jurati's protocols and put him into the duplicate, right? The tiny thread of hope that wrapped itself around her heart was as cutting as it was fragile, but Soji was desperate and so very alone. If she thought anything could work, anything at all, she couldn't have stopped herself from trying it.

[finniestoncrane]

Heyja, I hope you had a good rest and remember to take your well deserved breaks *brings you cookies and water*🍪🍪. You honestly deserve the world for all the good deeds you do for us rogue stans, using your free time to provide us with all these superb stories… You really are the best, finnie! 🥺❤️

And uh, speaking of, I also wanted to ask if you'd be okay with writing something that contains reader/AK Scarecrow and perhaps a dark alleyway? I'm down bad for the old crow, I'm so sorry 👀💦. If you don't feel like it, no problem at all, ofc! 🫣❤️❤️

Eager

Arkham!Jonathan x GN!Reader, word count: 1.3k anon you are so sweet and i am so... urgh this was a nice message!! if i didn't think it sounded like a threat i'd be demanding you come out of hiding so i could blow you a kiss that you can either put on your forehead or in your pocket for later u-u 🧡 also same lmao i love him? i want him? i would worship him 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff: fear play, instructional oral sex, demanding

It didn't matter why, the allure was unavoidable. The pull, the threat, far too enticing for you, a thrill seeker, an adrenaline chaser. You wanted to feel the fear, to take risks. To request the company, the attention, of Jonathan Crane would require proving your worth.

And as you crept silently up the alley, the end of which was the location of your proposed date, you sensed that this was in itself a test. Of your bravery, of your willingness, your devotion to the very notion of him.

So stuck in thought were you, breaths heavy in anticipation, anxiety coursing through your veins, that you didn't hear him approach you from behind, emerging from the shadows like a bad dream, his hands on your shoulders, quick to move to your face, over your mouth, stifling your scream.

"You reap what you sow. Isn't this exactly what you expected, what you wanted?"

It was. To be afraid. To feel the lingering threat of danger as you were swept off your feet. Completely. But to achieve it effectively would mean you had to feel scared. And you did.

Jonathan's surprisingly warm hands were clamped tighly to you, the skin dry, coarse, but the touch oddly gentle in direct contrast to the force he exerted upon you.

"You look exquisite, even more so than usual, when your features are tainted with the unique pain of terror."

In your throat, your breath was caught, thudding against the lump that closed you off. Jonathan removed his hands, offering you respite from his grip, letting your breath come freely. And as it hitched, ragged as it was pulled with desperation over your lips, you managed to release a sharp, echoing, gasping yelp. With one finger, he silenced you.

"Try to remain quiet, this is a public space. We can't afford to be happened upon, we'd need to set the scene again, and my time is valuable, as I'm sure you know."

You nodded feebly

"May I kiss you?"

Shocked that he would feel it necessary to ask, you nodded silently once again, eyes wide, caught in his stare, only freed from it when he closed his lids and began closing in on you, ragged lips pressed to your cheek, to your neck, finding your own mouth, trembling at the touch. Through his loosely tangled threads, he pressed his tongue forth, lapping at you, running across your teeth as he chuckled, a growl that rumbled in his throat and sent shivers through you.

Leaving you stumbling after him, Jonathan pulled away. Wiping at his mouth, the drool spilling from his sharply cut skin.

"Kneel."

After a moment's hesitation, you followed his instructions, your breath stuck further down this time, in your chest, swelling, a feeling as though you might explode before he placed two of his slender, calloused fingers under your chin, tilting you up to look at him.

"Open your mouth for me."

Dutifully, more than willingly, you let your jaw drop, mouth hanging open loosely, the taste of the thick air on your tongue, the stinging scent of the alley, of Gotham, more noticeable now. The unpleasant odour, the bitter flavour, was quickly replaced as Jonathan placed his fingers on your tongue, holding it flat, teasing it out.

He spread his fingers apart, hitting the corners of your mouth, pushing them wider, further spread until you let out a soft, strained mewl.

"Tell me how it feels. Does it hurt? Is the pain good?"

With your mouth stretched to the limits, tongue unable to move much, you garbled a response, opting to nod while doing so. Your saliva coated his fingers, dribbling over your lip and down your chin. Jonathan removed his fingers, letting his hands fall to the buttons of his pants, working slowly to undo them, enjoying the act, almost ritualistic it felt. You closed your lips, tongue flitting out to catch the drool. Your reprieve was brief, however, and you were still aware of a small trail of drool travelling to your neck as Jonathan commanded you once more.

"Open up."

When you looked back up to him, he was standing straight, one hand still teasing down his pants and underwear, the other holding his length, stiff and impressive, just in front of your face. The tip, reddened slightly, was slick, coated in either his spit or in precum. As you opened your mouth to take it in, you let your tongue drag over it, eliciting a hiss from Jonathan, able to taste the not unpleasant tang of salt against your eager tastebuds.

Enraptured, completely in the moment, your eyes closed over as you moaned. Your audibly erotic notes of pleasure were cut short though, as he brought his fingers to your cheek, gently stroking, the sharp nails lightly scraping along your warm, blushing skin.

"Keep your eyes open. On me. Please."

There was a sliver of desperation to his plead, almsot imperceptible, but definitely there. And you were more than happy to oblige, doing exactly as you were told as he brought his hands to the back fo your head, ragged, claw-like nails pressing into your scalp, forcing you down onto him hard. You gagged as his head hit the back of your throat, coughing, choking, spluttering. It was audible even over the guttural groan the motion had pulled from him, and he looked down at you, concern visible on his face.

"Breathe through your nose. Practice now."

You took slow, calming breaths through your nose as you hollowed your cheeks, mouth full of him, struggling with the girth, the length, but still somehow hungry, starving, for more of him. In a bid to fulfil your growing arousal, you reached a hand to yourself, a cruel taunt, because what you wanted was Jonathan, not your own clumsy, familiar strokes.

“Did I tell you that you could do that? Put your hands behind your back and lower your head down further.”

As though caught doing something extremely inappropriate, which given the circumstances you hadn’t though it was, you took the scolding with blushed cheeks, maintaining eye contact with Jonathan the whole time, so as not to disappoint him further. With your hands clasped behind your back you bobbed your head, mouth watering, tongue desperately slurping at his length as he stretched back, growling like an animal as you sucked the entirety of his long, thick cock.

Restrained by your own willpower to do nothing but good for him, you arched your back into your movements, allowing him to cram himself into you, deeper, his head resting at the back of your throat. And with an almost violent twitch within you, a deep screech that could easily be passed as the wails of a wounded animal, his seed hit your throat. Instinctively, and instantaneously, you swallowed his load completely, grateful for it, eyes still open, never blinking until you had to, only briefly pressed shut at the shock of his orgasm deposited inside of you. He held you around him, gagging, mouth empty, until he was sure he was finished. Smiling lightly, vaguely, as he allowed you to ease yourself off of him.

“Tell me, how do I taste?”

“Exquisite.”

He shook his head.

“Sharp. Tart. Sour.”

He smiled, a dry laugh coming out in a short burst.

“And how do you feel?”

You thought for a moment. Knowing that lying would be found out, but feeling the truth in your core would be enough to satiate him.

“Good. Nervous. Desperate.”

He nodded, turning quickly on his heel and walking back down the alley, leaving you confused, alone. Vaguely terrified but entirely aroused.

[floralifetime]

Toruk Makto's Sister

Warning: Very bad writing, some grammatical error (English is not my first language, so please be gentle), mentions of bad parenting, mentions of abandonment, some bad words.

Previous Chapter ➡️ Next Chapter.

⚠️⚠️Phrase and pictures (only the names are mine) are not mine, all the credits to the owners.⚠️⚠️

Things written in orange will be interpret as the original language of the Na'vi, I say this because I'm not able to build sentences in their language from scratch, in future chapters when you see things written in orange, you will know what that specifics color means.

Chapter n.4 Two Twins

Parenthoos requires LOVE not DNA.

We walked for some time while Jakey asked me every 2 minutes how I felt and if my shoulder was still hurting, yes of course but it was eased by the makeshift bandage. “Once again, Jakey I'm fine. It's nice of you to worry so much, but I guarantee you I'm fine, at least for now." my brother sighs looking down, I approach and place my hand on his shoulder. “What is it, big brother?” I ask, my voice softer than a feather. Jakey stopped and looked me in the eyes, sad, worried.

“I'm sorry, I should have protected you better…” He blames himself for my injury. I looked at him wide-eyed, as if a second head had sprouted. It's not his fault, I knew full well the forest would be dangerous, and with the looming darkness it will only get worse, this is not his fault. It never was. “Jakey, what are you talking about?” I asked, already feeling the guilt eating away at me for making him believe such a thing. “I mean, I'm here armed and I was supposed to protect you, yet you ended up injured when I was here!” he complains and I notice how his gaze lingers on my wound, even if I want to I can't hide it, the scratch is very extensive, it doesn't just take my shoulder even though that is the part that makes me suffer the most. It also nicked part of my arm, about two inches above the elbow, but it doesn't matter, I knew the risk I was running, I also knew that Jakey, although he never listened to my warnings, was trying to do his best.

“Jakey, big brother, I knew what could happen. Of course the Thanator is a particularly big bad luck but… I knew what I was getting myself into, when I wanted to accompany Grace out here, we all knew it.” I try to reassure him but he presses "But I was here to protect you, I'm a fucking Marine!" he starts waving his arms, as if they could show his concern. "And you were wounded in front of me, I was with you and I was usless!" he concludes. "That's not true, there was nothing concrete you could do, other than what you actually did." I take his hand.

“You know, Thanators are also known as Palulukan, or dry mouth bringers of fear.” I shake his hand pushing him to look at me. "Why dry mouth?" he asks and I shrug. "I really have no idea, but either way, that's not the part we're interested in." I smile. "What interests us is the other part of the definition. Bringers of fear." I retrace as Jakey raises an eyebrow, or at least tries since Avatar bodies don't have them, he's trying to figure out where I'm getting at without actually saying anything to him. "Jakey, what I mean is that even the Natives of Pandora, the Na'vi, they stay away from Thanators as much as possible, fearing them like few things in the world. If they are afraid of them who were born and raised here, imagine what we should do who know little or nothing about Pandora." "So…?" he asks confused, I have to remind myself that my brother needs simple instructions or he gets lost. "So, what I mean is that you could not have foreseen such a situation, I should have expected it eventually, but not you." I stop and place myself in front of him, putting my hands on his shoulders. "Listen to me carefully, because I don't want to go back to this topic again. It's not your fault, it will never be, it could have been much better but we're fine and we're together, that's what counts in the end, isn't it?” I asked and he nodded with eyes as big as owls. "And always remember that you are my brother, my hero. If Eywa gave me the chance to choose the best brother, I would always choose you!" I conclude smiling and lifting my arm with difficulty to stroke the cheek of my brother who was trying to hold back the tears. "Shit!" he whispers. “I have the best sister in the world, I'm so damn lucky!” he smiled pulling me to him in an embrace as tight as felt. I laughed and hug him back. “Together forever, never apart. Maybe in the distance but never in the hearth.” we say together, it's a familiar motto, I invented it as a child, a bit like the motto The Sully's stick together! of Jakey's invention. It would be perfect if Tom was there too, but we can keep him with us in our hearts, he will be safe there and he will accompany us everywhere.

Jakey gently taps the tip of his finger on my temple, he has to do it a couple of times more than usual to finally see me listen to him and let him go, however he has never shown haste or disappointment in this gesture, the softness of the touch has never changed. Despite all his flaws, Jakey has a lot of patience with me, I have to give him that, so I pulled away from him slowly, looking at him with a big reassuring smile that was reflected in his grateful smile. “Thanks again, little sister. I'm not sure what I did to deserve you, but I'll do better, I promise." I smile blushing slightly. "It's no use, you know." we both smiled. “The Sully's stick together.” we say in chorus before breaking away completely and looking around. “I'm no ace at orientation right now and don't currently recognize the area…” I sigh sadly. "On Earth it's always recommended to stay where you are and wait for help when you get lost, but I don't think this is the case here." My bigger brother claims. "No, I would say no also because there are predators here that don't exist on Earth, I honestly don't want to become their dinner." I say. “We'd better start walking and look for a safe shelter.” my brother nods and with these words, we start moving again.

We walked for I don't know how long, we were silent but soon Jakey broke the silence between us. "Soon we won't see anything, let's stop for a moment." He says scanning the sky. His statement prompted me to do the same thing and nod. "You're right, I think we'd better find a shelter quickly." I agree. Not hearing him answer but hearing noises near me, I turned around to understand what he was doing and I caught him while he was building a flashlight as best as possible. I said he is not the best of intelligence. "Jakey, by the grace of the Great Mother, what exactly are you doing?” I asked, hoping not to confirm my suspicions. I was disappointed, of course. "But Jakey, you'd put us in even more danger with fire, you know that?" I ask him. “Why?” he asks without even turning to look at me, one of the things I can't stand. If I talk to you, at least look me in the face. “Jakey, you know I don't like it when you do that, look at me.” I remind him and he finally pauses working on the craft torch and looks at me. "Thank you." I sigh before continuing. “Don't build anything that has to do with fire, its light will attract predators.” I explain. “And how do we continue?” he asks as he goes back to work on the flashlight, as if I hadn't said anything. “I really don't think we should continue, remember how you used to sleep in trees when there were no other shelters? Well, I think we should do the same thing.” I say just as Jakey finishes the flashlight and gets ready to light it. "I'm not going to sleep in a tree, sorry sis, but I want to go back to the outpost and to do that I need to see more than total darkness and some fluorescent silhouettes." my brother grunts, I was about to reply when the desperate, yet deafening, crying of two children bumped into my ears and penetrated my heart. Jakey also immediately stops what he was doing and turns to look at me with absurd speed. “You heard it, didn't you?” he asks me, I nod, still shocked and with my heart pounding so much that I feel the blood pounding in my ears. With just a glance my brother and I agree, we have to find the little ones.

We followed the direction from which we heard this noise, we weren't running because my wound was still hurting, but we were going at a much higher speed than normal walking. As soon as we reached the place where the crying and screaming were coming from, we started looking around for the little ones. I scan the ground and every single nook and cranny of the lush forest until I find them. They were two very small children, as I slowly approached them I could notice their particularly small size with purple hues around the tiny fingers, they must have been born recently. I lean towards them and I can't help but notice the paint that smears their little bodies. A large red stripe across their tight abdomens, with a differently painted area in the center, right where their little heart beats. The area not painted red was painted black instead, a symbol was drawn there, it was a circle, which contained other smaller and smaller ones, ending with a point at the exact height of their hearts. In practice, someone had drawn an archery target, since the Na'vi do not usually use rifles, on their chests. Near their little hands, which moved incessantly in search of something to hold on to or some good soul to take them in their arms, there were the remains of a red thread.

Ignoring the pain in my shoulder, I reached down and picked them both up, resting their little heads on the insides of my elbows, just where my forearms begin. Their little tails curl around my wrists as I gently lift them up, supporting their little heads, bringing them both closer to my face. “Shh…It's okay kids, you're safe now…” I whispered cradling them gently and squeezing them to my chest, still gently. “I know, it's scary…I would cry desperately too if I was alone in a forest at night…” I cooed kissing their small foreheads. I feel the girl's tail squeeze my wrist, as if to seek security. It breaks my heart to reflect myself in her eyes full of tears, so I pressed her to my chest, the little one holed up there, stopping crying, finding the feeling of shelter that she was looking for so much. She wasn't hungry, she made no effort to latch on to my breast, she just sought shelter from someone with a good heart willing to hold her. Calmed the girl, I diverted my attention to the boy, who was still crying and screaming, moving convulsively.

"Shhh, baby, what's wrong honey?" I ask cradling him, the gentle undulating movement of my arm, together with the purr I make for him, calm him down, definitively. Finally the little one stops moving and crying, his tail tightened its grip on my wrist, exactly as his sister had done when she had calmed down. “They've calmed down…Hell, there really were kids in the middle of the forest then!” Jakey walked over and watched them in disbelief, as if his voice hadn't already hinted at his total astonishment. I turned to him nodding. "What are we going to do? What are such small children doing here?” Jakey asks upset. I sighed and looked carefully at the place where the little ones had been laid, hoping to understand something more. The grass under them is folded, it is not dark but still has it's natural color, I brush the tufts with my tail, not being able to do it with my hands having them busy. The blades of grass were still soft and I could feel the life still flowing through them, which means that whoever left the children here did very, very recently. There were remnants of red threads near where their little hands were, as I mentioned earlier, these remnants and the paint that covers their little bodies suggest to me that some ceremony took place, I can't say exactly which, but I don't think that has positive connotations. The Na'vi place a lot of importance on colors when it comes to painting themselves and red doesn't always have positive connotations, and the same goes for black. The targets drawn on their rib cages don't inspire me well at all. I looked around quite a few times, but there was no sign of anyone claiming them and they must have heard them as they were crying up to two minutes ago, and the crying of small children is known to be particularly deafening. I don't even think the parents are here somewhere hiding, they would have already come out to protect their children. The only hypothesis I can think of is the most terrible thing a parent can do to their children. The abandonment.

“Little sister, what are you doing?” Jakey asks me, confused about my attitude. “I'm surveying the ground, figuring out how long these little treasures have been here.” I explain. "What did you understand?" he asks, concern overwhelmingly making it's way amidst the astonishment in my brother's voice. "It seems that a ritual has been performed, I can't exactly say which ritual it is but the fact that the parents are not here doesn't tell me anything good, even the colors that have been used are not the best." I explained. "What are we doing?" he asked while he was making funny faces at the two little ones, the boy laughed, the girl unlike her brother, she didn't seem to have much desire, in fact she remained curled up on my chest. "Sorry the little girl doesn't really feel like laughing…" I smiled as I watched Jakey attempt to interact with the boy. “Anyway, you still haven't answered me, what are we going to do with these little ones? Why are they here, where are the parents?” I looked around as he asked me these questions, seeing no sign of imminent danger I looked back at my brother. "We'd better stay here and wait, maybe I was wrong and the parents will arrive soon…" I wanted to give the benefit of the doubt but the target drawn on them was an all too obvious warning of abandonment, if not something worse.

“Stop fiddling with that flashlight, Jakey, how many times do I have to tell you it attracts predators?” we waited a couple of hours, as i thought the parents didn't show up even by mistake. “But at night we can't see anything, how do we go back?” he asked as I sat cross-legged on the floor. "We're not going back, we have two very young children with us, do you think we should attract hungry predators?" I asked as I set the little ones down on the ground and began to collect a certain type of plant and weave it, after having appropriately apologized and addressed a quick prayer to the Great Mother. “And where do we keep these children? We can't sleep in a tree with them with us…Because do we take them with us, am I right?” he asked, glancing at me sideways. “But who do you take me for? Of course we take them with us, we don't leave them here!" I replied indignantly. "Sure, of course, I just wanted to be totally sure, sorry." he replied already regretting his words and his thoughts. “But how, do you know me, do you think I would abandon innocent children in the middle of a forest? The parents didn't show up and we waited for hours. The paint on their bodies makes me think a ritual of some sort has been performed, but instinct tells me it's no good. We can't leave them here." I explained as my brother sighed regretfully. “You're right, I shouldn't have even thought about it. I'm very sorry." he replied.

More minutes passed, in which I finished my creation, a carrier for babies, so I could carry them on my back and shoulders, it would be nice to have my hands free while Jakey and I kept moving to find a tree big enough to accommodate everyone. Another prayer to the Great Mother and another apology allowed me to fill the carrier with soft, absorbent musk so that the little ones would be comfortable in there. I lifted the female again, and she wrapped her tail around my wrist again as I held her to me. “I won't leave you here, little one. It's too dangerous, I'll take your brother with me too." I smiled as I cooed softly and the baby she gave a gummy toothless smile but she was so cute she was beautiful just the same. I approached and kissed her forehead, while the little girl laughed happily and snuggled against my chest. I keep her there quiet for a while, continuing to look around, until I feel something pull a strand of my hair. I smile as I turn around and discover the culprit, the little one who is having fun playing with the lock he's holding. Chuckling I leaned over to him, poking him softly with my nose, making him laugh and gurgle happily. “Are you having fun, little darling?” I asked as he continued to laugh. "Come on, we can't stay here for long, we have to find a safe place to shelter." I put the little girl in her place in the carrier and then I did the same thing with the boy, immediately after I put the carrier on my shoulders and stood up. Meanwhile my brother, blatantly ignoring everything I'd said to him, had finished and lit that damn flashlight that had gotten ruined on our way here, so he had to work on it again. “Are you okay? Are the children okay?” he asked and I turned first to the right and then to the left, their little heads resting perfectly on my shoulders, increasing the pain I feel from that wound, but it doesn't matter. I covered them with my hair so they wouldn't be noticed by any external dangers, before answering. “Yes, as you can see they are fine. Now really, put that flashlight away and put it out because…” A rustling too close and a sound like a hyena's laughter interrupted me.

A shiver ran up my spine as Jakey stood in front of me trying to protect us. The sounds were rumbling, it was clear there was more than one. “Little sister, you who have followed some training, can you tell me what these noises are? Or rather, who makes them?” I swallowed and hid the little ones further. “They're…Viperwolves. Smaller than the Thanators, but also decidedly dangerous. They look more like terrestrial canines, they are silent, fast and, worst of all…” I sigh stepping back slightly. “They hunt in packs, so if one is here…Surely the others will be there too.” My hearing and my memory hadn't deceived me, in fact several Viperwolves, just under a dozen, came out of the bushes and immediately surrounded us, this is their favorite tactic. I took a deep breath and looked around, noting that the Viperwolves in front of me didn't seem hostile, their tails wagging briskly behind them and they didn't growl, they made a sound similar to the howling of wolves or dogs. I took a step forward as I slowly extended my arm, keeping my fingers pointed at them so they know I have no weapons and no malicious intent. “Can I pet you?” I asked the closest after he cautiously sniffed my hand, he moved his head in a movement that seemed to confirm, while he looked at me curiously during the caresses. “Are you…Friendly?” I asked while others of them approached me wagging their tails more, as if eager for cuddles.

Unfortunately, things weren't going so well for my brother, he had managed to fend off a couple of them with his torch, which he had then given up to take the knife he had brought with him, starting to slash with it, wounding as many Viperwolves attempted to attack him, including a particularly small Viperwolf, he looked like a young one, who ran away whimpering. The difference between the two flanks of the pack was incredible, just as those near me were calm and affectionate, which is extremely rare for predators as skilled as they are, so much were the others rabid and hungry, willing to kill my brother and make him their dinner, but I didn't lose Tommy to let Jakey die too, I'm sorry, as hard and painful as it is for me to hurt them, I have to help Jakey defend himself. Hearing noises coming from a tree near my brother, I took a stone and turned to scan the black space where something was moving. As soon as the Viperwolf attempted an attack on my brother I threw a couple of stones at him, causing him to dismount and flee, as I threw another couple of stones at him since he had tried to attack Jakey again once he got to the ground. The Viperwolves attempted an attack all together but were stopped by a shower of arrows, which hit them in almost vital points, killing them instantly.

Jakey and I both turned towards the source of the shower of arrows and saw a Na'vi woman, perched on the branch of the tree where she stood, bow in hand and ready to strike again should any more Viperwolves approach to him or to me. I couldn't help but lose myself in observing her as she descended, always with the bow in her hand in an attack position, she had been exceptional she impressed me, being a marksman in the army I see many good shooters but she…She was something totally unseen, a perfect mix of grace and mortality, my dream when I shoot myself with an archery. Basically, perfect. I only noticed later that she was staring at me curiously, not probing, she seemed genuinely curious. I understood why only when I felt the muzzle of one of the Viperwolves press against my thigh, they hadn't run away but, on the contrary, they had holed up behind me, seeking protection. I raised my hands and then performed the greeting they exchanged between them, seeing her nod, I began to speak. “Oel ngati kameie, please don't kill these Viperwolves, they didn't attack me, they don't have to die because my brother didn't listen to me when he should have.” I said, ignoring Jakey's protests and backing away, trying to protect the Viperwolves, even though she could have killed both them and me if she wanted. The woman seemed to evaluate my every move and then waved back from her. “Oel ngati kameie, you are right, I have no intention of harming them, they can go off into the forest free.” I smiled at her gratefully. "Thank you, may the Great Mother's gaze be kind on you and your loved ones." I see her lower her bow, she doesn't want to attack me and I was happy about it, I turned to the Viperwolves who shifted their gazes from me to the woman. “You can go, boys. Sorry, I am truly sorry for the losses you have suffered. I hope you are well and can get yourself something else to eat.” The Viperwolves, as if they had understood what I had said to them, got up, let me stroke their heads one last time and disappeared into the thick jungle that surrounded us. I turned around and saw Jakey approaching me, not knowing who to look at, me or the woman who helped us.

“Jakey promise to behave yourself now?” I asked without giving him time to speak, he nodded, his mouth still open. "Perfect, so now I'm going to check on the little Viperwolf you hit with the knife, I'm going to see if it can be helped…" a hiss interrupted my speech. I looked around and noticed a fairly large Viperwolf, lying on the ground, with an obvious head wound caused by a blow, it is probably one that Jakey had hit with the flashlight before using the knife. The Na'vi woman knelt in front of me, she looked at me cautious but also curious, while I gently took the animal's head to check the wound well. "It's not fatal, luckily, I can cure it, but I need a hand…Would you be willing to give it to me?" I asked crossing the woman's eyes, she looked at me for a couple of seconds before simply nodding. “I've never seen Dreamwalkers act like you.” before I could reply, she answered my question. "Sure, I'll help you." I sighed in relief. “Thanks, I need Blue Flowers and Taxax Root.” she nodded. “I know where to find them, we will also need the leaves of that plant, they become perfect bandages.” I nod intently as I stroke the side of the creature's snout, trying to soothe him in his pain. “They would be perfect, I'll go get them.” I was about to get up but the woman's hand held me back. “Don't do it, he seems to appreciate your presence, you calm him down. I'll go get what we need." I smile at her with gratitude as I see her get up and go to get what we need, while my brother stood staring at her. If he tries to get smart with this woman I swear I'll beat him.

“Shh, it's okay…” I cooed as I heard the animal cry in pain and fright. “I know you're scared, I'm sorry…” I stroke its muzzle. "You'll be fine soon, I promise, I won't leave you alone." I smiled as I saw the woman come back with everything we needed in her hands. She knelt next to me and, with one of the leaves, I cleaned the wound while she squeezed the flowers between her hands to get the sap out, I collected some in a leaf and bandaged him while she helped me wrap it around the wound, it took us two whole leaves to heal him but together we did it. “He's fine now, but he's going to have a bit of trouble getting up. He's stunned." she said. "Do you know where it's herd has gathered? The rest alive, I mean." she looks at me and motions to the right, into the depths. "They have gathered over there, probably another member is injured but will survive. They will surely be with him." she observes as I nod, weighing my idea. "We should be able to lift him and bring him to them, in the meantime I can control the other Viperwolf, if I can help him, I'll do it gladly." she stared at me in disbelief "I never thought I'd see such a thing." she whispered but before I could ask her about it she nodded, so together we lifted the Viperwolf and carried him to the others.

Once we arrived and the put down the first wounded Viperwolf, I rushed to the cub no one attacked me, no one showed the slightest sign of aggression towards me, as if they knew in advance that I was here to help them. “It's okay…” I said putting my hands out, literally, so the bigger ones could make sure I was here with good intentions. “Can I look at your wound, little one?” I asked, he was in pain but he didn't object, at least, not at the beginning. I took advantage of this and knelt next to him, examining the wound, it was a fairly deep cut on his side. “I need the healing plants I saw on our way here…” I think aloud. "Is it curable?" the woman asks bluntly, taking her eyes off Jakey's flashlight, I swear I'll make him eat that flashlight as soon as I'm finished here. “Luckily Jakey didn't cut too deeply, something can be done to save him.” I said. “Where did you see the plants you need?” she asked as I felt her gaze pierce the back of my neck. “Right there next to you, you know? Would you bring them to me, please? Only the leaves, those are enough.” I asked her, heard her bustle and she brought me what I needed. “Irayo.” I thanked her and she was amazed, evidently she has never been explicitly thanked for anything, or she is not used to seeing Dreamwalkers thanking a Na'vi. "It's okay, honey." I hose gently towards the young Viperwolf, while I squeeze the smallest and slightly fluorescent leaves in my hands, the sap is what is needed, I spread it delicately on the wound. I hear him whining, it burns badly and he's in pain, I understand that, but I can't help but hold my breath trying not to whimper myself when I feel him biting my arm, my wrist. I also pray that Jakey doesn't do anything stupid as I hear him scream and curse at the cub, while the woman hisses at him trying to silence him. "Listen, my little one, I don't want to hurt you, I promise…" I said stroking his head, barely holding back the pain. "But it's the only way I can help you, I don't want to leave you with a wound if I can heal you." I explain and then conclude. “I believe in you, I know you're strong enough to do it! I'm sure!" I encouraged him and he, after looking at me carefully, let go of my wrist and I was able to complete the bandaging of the wound. "Perfect, you did great!" I congratulated him smiling. “Now we leave you and your pack alone…May the Great Mother bless you with a good dinner.” I smiled as I stood up, then turned around to follow the woman and my brother.

We check the others but they're dead and there's nothing I can do for them except pray, which I do and as soon as I'm done I hear Jakey speak. “Hey, thank you for what you did with those beasts…You know…Save us.” I widened my eyes and looked at him as if it was the first time I'd seen him, thank? For an act of gratuitous violence basically? Decimating a herd is not something to be proud of, they have a totally different way of looking at these things. The woman, in response, took the flashlight from his hands and turned it off, drowning it in a stream that I had not noticed before. “Hey, what have you done! We need that!" the woman hissed at him again, then turned to me. “You saved them, both. Even at the cost of being injured." she said in such perfect English that I almost fainted hearing her speak so well, I hadn't noticed before. I nod and smile at her. "Of course I saved them, I couldn't let them die, you already have too much blood on your hands because of us." I witness, she smiles for the first time as she slowly walks up to me, Jakey does the same thing, only faster as he pulls up beside me and starts examining my wrist like it's the most interesting thing he's ever seen. "You're hurt, take this." she said as she handed me one of the Taxax leaves we had taken earlier. “Do you have one more?” I ask incredulously. “Yeah, I didn't want to risk running out while you were dealing with the first Viperwolf, so I took an extra one, just to be safe. That should be enough for you, your wrist is not very big.” she ascertains by looking at it. “Irayo.” I thank her as I take the leaf and, thanks also to Jakey's help, I manage to put it around my wrist. “It was kind of you to save them. I'm happy that at least part of the herd survived." She says as she starts to walk away. Jakey, of course, started calling her and following her and I was forced to follow my brother in turn.

Here, this is chapter four, also as long as few things in the world😅. I'm sorry for keeping you waiting, but I've been busy these days too, I've done everything possible. In any case, thanks for reading and, if you like, see you in the next chapter, number five👋.

©️Floralifetime April 27-2023, please do not republish, repost, steal, modify, translate or claim my work as your own. All rights reserved.

Taglist: @avatarbyamara

[silverskye13]

💫💝💞

💫what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback?

I have two favorite types of comments.

"OP I am doing you physical harm for the emotional distress you've caused me / biting you biting you biting y--"

[My favorite variation of this is when one of the major characters died in Casting Rain, in which the comment said only "Respectfully, fuck you." I think I laughed for 20 minutes straight.]

And

"Here is an in depth analysis of all the little details, nuances, and foreshadowing you put into this story, intentionally or otherwise. Here are all my theories on where those details are going to take us, right or wrong." I reread those over and over and over again, smiling and giggling like a small child. Oh people pay attention? They pay attention to the stupid little details I put in there? Oh! Joy! Joy for author for 10000 years!

💝what is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

Hound's Tooth. I thought no one would read it / it would be too angsty or OOC for people to find it enjoyable. Instead I got a lot of comments from people saying it made them think deeply about their own past traumas, gave them the words to describe their own conflicted feelings, and helped them think about body dysphoria in a different way. I was very surprised. Also there was a really nice commenter who talked about their coclear(?) implants [the story had a lot of themes about body dysphoria around Doc's prosthetics] and how they dealt with the dysphoria around that, which was an experience I hadn't even hoped to touch on realistically but it was lovely to have someone comment specifically to say I had and they had enjoyed it.

💞what's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language

W... Worldbuilding. Worldbuilding? Worldbuilding. Aside from it just being wildly fun to create workable universes for your characters to play in, worldbuilding helps inform character development so much. If the world is at war, how different characters handle the stress tells you bits about their personality. The social norms they ignore tell you what they find important. When you switch POVs, how they talk about their environment in contrast to how somebody else does gives them so much life, makes them feel more real. Also, you can fit so much symbolism into worldbuilding.

Knight character who fights in an arena, but noticeably wears his helmet all the time when no one else does -> he's hiding something

Elemental character who thinks it's nerve-wracking that someone isn't treating him like a weapon -> the world expects him to be dangerous

Werewolf character who struggles a lot with hiding what he is -> the world didn't always require him to, and something has changed to make it so it does

The mirror is smashed in a missing person's home, and the last image he drew was his own face -> there was something important in his reflection, possibly something he mourned

Real Fic Writer Asks

[thomase1]

Two broken make a whole; chapter 3

Series Masterlist Full Masterlist

Its about food again. So get yourself a snack! 🫣

Did I write this while cooking? Yes. Did I burn my onions and garlic? Maybe.

Also, is this Y/n a little more like me than I'd hoped? Who knows. 👀

Warnings: angst, others heartbreak. Kind of boring chapter but the plot develops slowly.

Wordcount: ~2500

Deviders by @harlequin-hangout

Finally, that's over.

After a nearly two week long mission of you being on the move constantly, trying to track down a freaky new organization threatening havoc on all of humankind, you finally come back home. You are exhausted to say the least.

Sleep has been scarce. If you were lucky you got 4 hours before you had to proceed with your pursuit. And when you had the luck to sleep, you had to do so in your car seat since taking a room wasn't an option, being on the move constantly. You also only ate junk food, mostly snacks. Sometimes you'd stop at a random drive through.

You missed the others incredibly, but not as much as your bed and a full 8 hours of sleep.

On your way home you had made your plans for the next day. Greeting everybody, making a nice hearty homemade meal and retreating to your room, watching some movies or just sleeping. Throwing yourself in your sweat pants, an oversized shirt, your fuzzy robe and fuzzy socks. Snuggling into your bed. That is the plan and you won't let anybody or anything interrupt.

Finally you reach the living quarters in the Tower.

They know you are coming back today, since you told Jarvis to announce it, which gave everybody a notification. The elevator opens and you walk in the common room, plopping down your heavy duffle bag. "I'm home.", you mumble quietly, more to yourself. Nobody is there, it makes you kind of sad, not gonna lie.

It's a call from reality, that even though you tell everybody, including yourself you're fine, you are in fact lonely.

And this moment symbolizes it, coming back from a long mission and nobody is there to greet you.

But oh well, you are with the Avengers and something always requires your attention, can't be mad at them. "Jarvis, where is everybody?", you ask the AI. "Doctor Banner is working in his laboratory. Agent Barton is home with his family. Mister Laufeyson is in his living quarters. Mister Odinson, Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff are out on a mission. They should come back shortly. Mister Stark is in a conference. Do you have any other questions?" It takes you a second to connect all these infos.

"No, that was it, thank you."

You knew of the mission Thor, Steve and Nat are at right now since it is connected to your undercover observation. Its saturday so it was pretty expectable for Clint to be home if he is free. Tony being in a conference is the usual, he is doing more press and bureaucracy than actual missions lately. Bruce working is to be expected as well as Loki being in his room.

Oh well.

You shrug and decide to pursue your plan for the day, walking into the kitchen. You open the fridge and observe which ingredients are available, deciding on a simple chicken noodle soup, figuring that is the definition of a hardy comfort food. You chop all the veggies and boil the water on the side. It doesn't take long until you have all the ingredients in the pot and the noodles are cooking.

While it simmers you jump onto the counter and scroll your phone. The others are finished with their mission, Nat texted you. Cap won't come to the tower today, but Thor and Nat will be back in about two hours. That makes you really happy since you are pretty close to them. Thor loves your cooking, it just feels nice, being able to cook for the others, like for a family.

Plus he eats a lot and the others aren't complaining about food either, which means there is never the danger of you making too much.

And Nat, well, she is your mentor, close friend and like an older sister all at once. Sadly she isn't home that often. After she and Bruce broke up, they both started to avoid gatherings. It's a shame, they were really cute together but it was just not meant to be.

Nat goes for rides on her bike every day, goes on hikes, joggs in the park, sometimes even goes camping... Just anything outside and away from the tower, from Bruce.

'You shouldn't run away from your problems Y/n, I tried it and I must report, they are always faster than you.', she used to tell you when you first arrived. But it seems she cannot take her own advice.

You text a bit with her, asking if it all went well. Since their mission is connected to yours, you are pretty interested in it all. The group is called 'Serpent', apparently a branch from Hydra. She tells you it went pretty well but that they are exhausted, well at least she is. The other two, being a super soldier and a god, could have kept going.

Sometimes it's really unfair to be surrounded by so many super humans, mutants and even gods. You just cannot keep up with them. Clint, Nat and you are always the ones that wind up in the medwing. If the others do, you know it must have been bad.

After some time you check up on the food and decide it's ready.

Getting yourself a plate you sit down at the kitchen island. You humm tasting your creation, just how you wanted it. So you sit there with your phone watching some funny videos and eat. Well, after some time you fall down a rabbit hole and totally forget eating. Damn the internet being so addictive.

You feel somebody walking past you and nearly fall off the bar stool.

"I smelled food.", Loki states flatly as he watches you in amusement, trying to steady yourself again. "Yea, I made some chicken noodle soup, have some if you want.", you explain, pausing the video, looking back at him. He plates himself some and sits down next to you at the island.

With your heart thundering against your chest, you look over to him. You notice small details about him you haven't discovered just yet. Like how silky his hair looks from up close and how each hair is curled in its own way. Or the small pinpoint scars around his lips. You are really curious about them, but decide not to ask such a question the first time you see him out his room.

He tries the first spoon full a little wary, then his eyes jump down to look at his bowl. He takes a second spoonful and the corner of his lips twitch up ever so slightly. You smirk to yourself knowing he likes it, even if he won't admit it, seeing his reaction is enough to be proud of yourself.

Continuing to eat you think about the last few weeks; you rarely ever saw Loki eat. Is he too proud or did nobody tell him there won't be people cooking for him? "I bet it isn't easy to live without maids and staff all of a sudden?"

He scowls at you, slowly laying down his spoon.

You sigh, "I didn't mean it like that.".

Why must you always mess up at moments like these? You really just wanted to have a conversation with him, you are teammates after all, you should at least be able to talk to another.

Your appetite vanishes. You get up and clean your bowl, sensing his eyes glaring daggers at your back. Feeling a need to flee this situation, you decide to bring Bruce a bowl of soup. Two birds with one stone.

You take a bowl full and grab your phone from the counter, seeing Loki give you a suspicious side eye. "I'm sorry. I didn't think that question through.", you mumble, leaving the room.

Very mature, you think to yourself, fleeing like a coward.

Out of there, you take a deep breath. Get a grip Y/n.

After the fiasco with Loki you went to Bruce and brought him the soup. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't even hear Jarvis announce to you entering the lab. Only when you slid the bowl into his line of vision did he snap out of his own mind.

"Oh god, thank you Y/n. You shouldn't have, that's too nice of you.", Bruce looks at you with those innocent deer eyes of his. You almost pull a pout at how adorable he is.

"Please... did you even eat anything yet?", you ask him sternly. "What time is it?"

You look at your phone, "Quarter to 5.". He hisses, you narrow your eyes, "Bruce?". "Yea I haven't eaten since, well, since yesterday actually.", he stammered. You sigh, "I couldn't say I was surprised. I haven't seen you out of here since the space royalty arrived. I think even a fire wouldn't get you out of here!". He ruffles his hair, closing his eyes, "You're right, it's just... It's been a couple of rough weeks.".

You pat his shoulder in sympathy, pulling a chair for him to sit, "I know, it's been for both of you, but you can't hide in here for all eternity. Now sit down and eat the soup while it's still warm.". He sits down and smiles at the taste, "This is delicious. Thank you, truly. I think I would have starved already if it wasn't for your kind heart.".

"You could do one thing for me then."

"Yes?"

"Live a little. Go walk in the park, take a vacation or get a new hobby. But please, just leave this lab for a while, the whole tower at best."

He pauses and looks at you, smiling sadly, "I will try."

"And for god's sake, sleep. Please. You have whole universes of circles under your eyes.", you snort in gallows humor.

"But I can't. Everytime I do I just dream of her. How it could have been..."

"Bruce I swear on all I've got, I will tell Jar to shut out your power at exactly midnight if I have to. You're a doctor, you know well enough that sleep isn't something you can just not do."

He sighs, "Of course you're right. It's just-"

"No! I know it all sucks a lot right now but you will sleep tonight! No if's or but's!", you order.

"Yes ma'am.", he looks at you like a kid that just got grounded. "Why do I have to act like a mother for so many of earth's mightiest heroes?", you ask yourself out loud, earning a chuckle from Bruce. Well at least he can laugh again.

After some time, Bruce noticed how exhausted he was. Short attention span, how hard it was to have any actual interest in his work and how heavy his limbs feel. He decided to take an Ambien, figuring what helped Tony with his insomnia and nightmares would surely work for him too.

You stayed with him for a while and listened to his struggles and internal battles. Also about work of course.

About an hour later Jarvis announced the return of Thor and Nat which is why Bruce urged you to go meet them. Naturally you asked him to come along but he just isn't quite there yet. Nat probably isn't ready for it either.

Back in the living room, you find a defeated Nat in a puddle on the sofa. Well, almost in a puddle but she definitely looks finished.

Thor however walks around the room, blaring his triumph and raiding the kitchen cabinets.

"You could just eat some soup, you know. I made it this afternoon." He turns around and opens his arms, "Y/n! How are you doing this fine day?" You walk over accepting his embrace, squeaking at how tightly he hugs you.

You talk about your day as they eat some soup when the mishap with Loki comes up. "I just didn't think it through. I shouldn't have asked him that. I said sorry but I don't think he cared for it.", you sigh heavily. Nat shakes her head, "Oh just let him stay mad, he will get over it.". "I don't know the way I fled the scene... It was not very mature.", you remember, ashamed. "Well, he probably didn't thank you for the soup either, did he? Just give him some time, I think you two will get along at some point."

"You must forgive my brother, he has had a hard time. It was never easy for him in new environments, especially not here.", Thor explains. Nat nods in understanding, "Yea, I bet he isn't too stoked about staying with the people he tried to kill and that tried to kill him. I wouldn't trust us either." Thor nods hesitantly, "You're right, but it's not just that. He takes a long time to trust. It lies in past experiences." You knit your brows, "What do you mean by that?"

"I fear I said too much already, it really is not my place to tell. If you want to find out, you must ask him.", he puts down his empty bowl on the table, crossing his arms.

Now you are just more confused, but also twice as intrigued. The only thing left to do is befriend him. One could call that task mission impossible. Getting the god of mischief with godly trust issues to trust you, an ally of his past enemies... It could prove to be a challenge, but you are up for one.

A bit of work talk turned into personal talk. Thor talked about his once again relationship with his beloved Jane. It's a wonder his eyes didn't become heart-shaped.

Nat talked about new additions to her bike and about a beautiful mountain she camped on a few days ago.

And you talked about past pranks the chaos four, Clint, Scott, Sam and you, pulled. Mostly on Tony. It's just too fun to mess with him since he won't punish anybody.

You made the grave mistake to doodle on Caps shield once and you paid the price in 5 am jogging. For two weeks straight, mission or day off, it did not matter. You wont make that mistake again.

Pranks and missions are pretty much the only things you can talk about. There just... isn't anything else to talk about, since you don't have too many friends, outside of work.

You parted around midnight, exhaustion hitting Nat and you like a truck.

The last thing on your mind before falling asleep was;

Loki Laufeyson, I will crack your shell. Even if it takes me a lifetime.

Tags for tbmaw: @fictive-sl0th @vbecker10 @fictional-hooman @mischief2manage @maple-seed @mochie85 @holdmytesseract @theaudacitytowrite @gigglingtigger @marygoddessofmischief @goblingirlsarah @oceandeepthirst @lokisgoodgirl @fallenlostarchives @kalinaselennespeaks @sid-prescottx @assemblingavenger @loki-n-hvitserk @crzyplantladyvibes

Everything: @slytherclaw1227 @their-love @vickie5446 @buttercupcookies-blog @peaches1958

And my wifey @plushcrushdoll :D 💜

[oberthinkin]

rook hunt as a caregiver yes yes yes i need!! <3🕊️

Rook is my favourite from the game I love him so much! But he kinda scares me-- he's so hard to read, you might worry he wouldn't like you anymore if he found out you regressed. But Rook remains patient with you as ever, and if you would be brave enough to confess to Rook that you regress, you might be surprised to hear he knows. Rook had seen you regress a few times-- but he recognized you hadn't wanted to share this intimate part of yourself yet, and were particularly sensitive in this state. Unlike teasing Roi de Leon or Roi de Dragon, Rook knows you wouldn't be able to handle teasing and gossip about this secret, even if he meant it lightheartedly.

Rook doesn't want to cause you distress. And if you ever feel like you need a helping hand or a guardian while little, you can ask Rook! He wouldn't mind helping his trickster out.

Just be warned you've got to deal with a few rules. Just a few, he won't overextend his role.

You mustn't cuss while small. It's rude, and not very nice.

Ask Rook for help when you want to use scissors, a knife, or cook in the kitchen. Rook doesn't want you to get hurt.

And lastly, on school nights, you must go to bed by ten at the latest. This is a rule for when you're big too-- consistency with routine makes it easier for you when you're not as big.

Those are all the rules Rook has for you, and you should be able to follow them-- they're not particularly hard, and they're reasonable requests from a caregiver.

This isn't a rule, but you're expected to wake up, make your bed, and go to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Now, granted, depending if you regress in the morning or plan your regression, this might be very easy, or very difficult. This is why Rook checks in on you every morning to see how you're coming along. If you're big, it shouldn't be hard to just greet the vice-leader of the dorm with the morning text. If you're small, and struggling with tasks, you can just ask Rook for help through text, and he'll come by shortly to help.

Rook makes sure you're getting frequent, small snacks when you're small. Getting a small child to sit still for a full-sized meal can be hard, especially when there are so many rules you have to follow at the table. Snacking can be easier for you. So he keeps various packets of meat jerky for you to snack on. If you're vegetarian or vegan, Rook will keep exclusively fruit snacks for you, and a smoothie pouch. You don't have to eat the snacks if you don't want them, but you should always speak up to Rook if you want a snack.

Rook likes to play dress up with you, and he likes to play games like tag.

Tag makes sure you're exercising, and you can feel the thrill of chasing him! He's quite hard to catch, and he won't take it easy on you even if you're small! He might allow himself to be "tricked" if he spots you trying to hide behind corners to tag him. His tendency to gloat and taunt danger has gotten him caught multiple times. Rook always praises you for learning how to be such a good hunter!

And if you're too small or clumsy for tag, or you can't run, Rook likes playing dress up. You can use whatever makeup, ribbons, stickers, scarves, and such to dress up Rook how you please. And Rook will do the same to you. His is always a bit more tactful than you can accomplish as a little, but he doesn't tut when you use your fingers in your eyeshadows. He just makes sure to sanitize them afterwards, so the product isn't ruined by the oils in your fingers. And he lets you pick out the stickers he buys: Pearl stickers, rhinestones, or shiny stickers of pets.

Rook doesn't mind watching over you if you want to play by yourself. It doesn't require him to do as much, so he might start on his homework, but he's still going to make sure you don't run off and get hurt, or upset yourself.

[purrplewitches]

the course of true love (never did run smooth)

Pairing: Geto/Shoko, Gojo/Utahime Rating: M (eventually)

Summary: forcing two jujutsu sorcerers to live together is a dangerous game. Shoko and Utahime are just hoping to make it through the year - the last thing either expects is to fall in love

ao3 link

"I wish you could visit us in Kyoto more often, Shoko," Utahime sighs wistfully, appearing in the kitchen doorway with three bottles of wine in her arms, "This almost feels like one of our student-day get-togethers. Ah, what a time that was!"

Utahime's deep in her cups - she, Shoko, and Mei Mei have been drinking at her apartment since late morning, enjoying the rare day off together - and Shoko cannot help but chuckle when she meets Mei Mei's knowing gaze - Utahime's has always been an overly nostalgic drunk.

"I wish I could come out here more often, too," Shoko says, leaning languidly against the armrest of the couch, "But, thanks to Principal Yaga and certain idiots who seem to think that getting injured on a mission is a requirement, I barely get any days off without getting called back to school to treat someone."

"Just don't pick up the phone when you are not on the clock. The way I see it, if you aren't getting paid, it's not your problem," Mei Mei smiles, taking a drink of her wine, "Perhaps, realizing that they can't always rely on you will teach certain sorcerers to think twice before blindly rushing into a battle."

"I'm not sure there's anything that could get through their thick skulls," Shoko sighs, shifting in her seat to let Utahime settle down on the couch beside her.

"No one's immune to a lesson that's taught the hard way," Mei Mei tilts her head to the side, studying Shoko's face.

Shoko hums, considering Mei Mei's suggestion - perhaps, there's some merit to her words. Utahime shifts in her seat, distracting Shoko from her thoughts, and offers her wine. Though rather tipsy, Shoko doesn't refuse.

"Thank you," Shoko murmurs when Utahime generously fills her glass almost too full. Taking a long, slow sip to ensure it doesn't spill, she continues, "Still, despite all my grievances, I'm grateful at least that I'm only a doctor and not a teacher. With patients, once they are out of the clinic, they are off my hands, but with students, it seems there isn't a single moment when you don't have to worry for them. I don't know how you do it, Utahime."

"Working with students can be very rewarding. And there's never a dull day when you are teaching young sorcerers," Utahime smiles, slumping against the back of the couch, "Though, at times, it could be a little tiring."

"So, it seems you two are in desperate need of a vacation," Mei Mei chuckles, pouring more wine into her glass, "It could be fun to travel together this summer… I'm thinking somewhere warm, with a nice beach."

"I'd love to go to Bali or Malaysia," Utahime sighs dreamily before turning to Shoko, "But you just reminded me of something."

"Huh?" Shoko says, confused.

"When you mentioned the students, I thought of my conversation with principal Gakuganji just two days ago," Utahime explains, "Apparently, we most likely won't have any first-year students this term… Do you know if Tokyo's getting any first years?"

At Utahime's words, Shoko frowns, remembering the faculty meeting she'd been forced to attend a few weeks prior. She used to try to get out of the faculty meetings - after all, she didn't teach, so there was no reason for her to be there - but Principal Yaga always insisted that it was essential for everyone working at Jujutsu High to attend, which left Shoko with no choice but to comply begrudgingly.

Most of the time, these faculty meetings consisted of mind-numbing drivel that Shoko could easily tune out. Still, the one that Utahime's words brought to mind stood out against the rest - she'd never seen Principal Yaga quite as grim as when he'd told them that there would be no first-year students starting at the school come April.

"I thought we were the only ones not getting new students," Shoko places her wine glass on the low table in front of her, "I actually assumed that your school must be getting students since we aren't."

"Well, it's not certain quite yet," Utahime replies, crossing her arms before her, "Principal Gakuganji said they'll keep looking - but with the school year looming so near, I don't think they'll be able to find anyone."

"I suppose this shouldn't come as too much of a surprise," Shoko muses, "After all, the classes have been getting smaller for years - I can't remember the last time we had more than four students at the school at the same time."

"And I thought our grade was tiny since there were only two of us," Mei Mei laughs, brushing her hair out of her face as she leans back in her seat, "But, perhaps, instead, it was way too crowded."

Shoko chuckles, nodding - though there were only three people in her class, Gojo and Geto's antics often made it feel as though there were a dozen. And the only reason they've gotten away with those antics was because even as students, they were as powerful as at least a dozen fully-fledged sorcerers.

Though somewhat concerning, the revelation that neither Tokyo nor Kyoto schools are getting new students is not surprising to Shoko. After all, people who could see cursed spirits were exceedingly rare - and, among them, those with enough cursed energy and enough talent for using cursed techniques to become career jujutsu sorcerers were rarer still.

And, even among those with innate talent and abilities, only some were ready - or willing to take on - the burdens of a sorcerer's life. Looking back, Shoko sometimes wondered if she'd still choose this path if she knew then what she knows now.

"I just hope this will be a one-off year if they don't find anyone," Utahime says, distracting Shoko from her thoughts, "I'd really hate for this to become a…regular occurrence."

"Oh, trust me, it won't," Mei Mei chuckles, leaning against the armrest of the couch and resting her chin on her hand, "If the higher-ups notice the flow of new sorcerers running dry, they'll send Principal Gakuganji and Principal Yaga - and, perhaps, the rest of us too if we are ever so unfortunate - to scour the ends of the earth for new students. And that likely wouldn't even be the worst of it if they ever decide that there just aren't enough sorcerers around."

A shiver runs up Shoko's spine at the thought. Though the higher-ups and their decision were largely unpredictable, one thing was for certain - they could always be relied on to make an already bad situation worse.

"Let's not dwell on such dreadful scenarios," Shoko says decisively, "How about we discuss something less morbid?"

"Like that summer vacation you mentioned," Utahime chimes in.

"Very well," Mei Mei smiles. She gets up from her seat and walks over to the couch where Shoko and Utahime are sitting and gestures for them to make space for her, "I want to show you the hotel I stayed at last year when I went to Malaysia - I think you'll like it."

"Can't wait to lie on the beach all day and do absolutely nothing, "Utahime says, shifting over and letting Mei Mei sit between them. Shoko nods in agreement - perhaps, if she's in another country, too far to be called back to the school's clinic in the middle of the night, she'll finally be able to catch up on sleep.

Just as Mei Mei's about to pull up the pictures of the hotel, Shoko's phone rings. She doesn't want to pick up - after all, it's her well-deserved day off - but when she sees the caller's name, an all-too-familiar uneasy feeling uncoils in her chest.

"Who is it?" Utahime asks, frowning as Shoko gets up from the couch.

"It's Yaga," Shoko sighs, downing the remainder of her wine, "Which means one of those idiots has likely gotten into some sort of trouble… I'll be right back."

With that, Shoko heads over to the kitchen. Her phone doesn't stop ringing, not for a moment, and Shoko knows it must be something serious. Taking a deep breath to ward off the uneasy feeling welling in her chest, she picks up the call.

"Took you long enough to answer," Principal Yaga says instead of a greeting, "Are you in Tokyo now? Can you stop by the school?"

"I'm in Kyoto, so it will take at least a few hours before I can make it back," Shoko responds calmly, "Is someone injured?"

Principal Yaga doesn't respond, not for a long moment, and the silence that stretches between them does little to quell her unease.

"Are you with Utahime?" Principal Yaga asks suddenly.

The question catches Shoko off-guard - why does he need to know that? Worrying thoughts swirl in Shoko's head, but she chases them away. Perhaps, it's nothing too serious; maybe they are just getting sent on a mission together…

"Yes," Shoko says, "And Mei Mei's here too."

"I see… Has Principal Gakuganji contacted them yet?"

Why would he? Unless…

"Has someone died?" Shoko asks flatly, unable to stave off her unease any longer.

"What? No, no one's dead; why did you think that?" Principal Yaga replies, clearly frustrated, "I knew this would be easier to explain in person, but since you're in Kyoto, I suppose this will have to do. Can you put the phone on speaker so the others can hear?"

Shoko frowns, confused. If no one's injured or dead, why is he calling her on her day off? What could possibly be so urgent? And why do Utahime and Mei Mei need to listen in on the call?

"One moment," Shoko says, "They are in another room - I'll go there now."

Muting the microphone, she walks out into the living room. Mei Mei and Utahime are still sitting on the couch, scrolling through the pictures of different hotels, their focused expressions betraying just how seriously they take the selection process.

"Is everything alright?" Utahime looks up at Shoko, concerned.

"I'm not sure," Shoko replies, frowning, "The only thing I know is that no one's injured or dead, but whatever it is, it must concern all of us since Principal Yaga asked to include you two on the call…"

"There's only one way to find out," Mei Mei says, and Shoko nods. She approaches the couch, settles down, and, taking a deep breath, unmutes the phone.

"We are all here now," she says.

"Very well," Principal Yaga says after a brief pause, "I will be frank; I do not think there is a way to broach the subject delicately, so I'll get straight to the point. This morning, the higher-ups called for a meeting that Principal Gakuganji and I attended."

Shoko looks up from her phone, her gaze shifting between Utahime, who's hugging her knees close to her chest and nervously twirling the bracelets on her wrist, and Mei Mei, who's lazily leaning against the back of the couch, taking a long, slow sip of her wine.

"As you may know, no new students are enrolling in either Tokyo or Kyoto Jujustu High this year."

Shoko exchanges surprised glances with Utahime and Mei Mei. Is that what this is about? Mei Mei better not have jinxed it - the last thing Shoko wants is to travel to some god-forgotten village in search of potential new students for their school.

"The higher-ups have expressed their concerns regarding what this means for the jujutsu society… Especially since fewer and fewer sorcerers are born every year," Principal Yaga continues.

Mei Mei chuckles airly at these words, and Shoko can only scoff - it is hardly a surprise. Only a union of two sorcerers could guarantee a sorcerer offspring - but unions like that were exceedingly rare, and for a good reason. Jujutsu sorcerers lived hard, short lives that often ended in a horrifyingly macabre manner. Of the many willing to walk this difficult path, few were ready to entrust their hearts to someone else bound to this gruesome fate, and Shoko could not blame them.

For her part, Shoko much preferred dating outside the jujutsu sorcerer community. The secrecy required by their profession all but guaranteed that those relationships would not last, but it's not like Shoko was ever looking for something serious or long-term. She'd gladly do short, meaningless flings all her life if that meant she'd never get a heart-wrenching call in the middle of the night telling her that the person she loved the most had just been ground into a fine paste and smeared around the block by an unexpectedly present special grade curse.

"…And so a decision was made," Principal Yaga says, distracting Shoko from her thoughts, "To ensure the continuation and proliferation of the jujutsu sorcerer society, all unmarried jujutsu sorcerers are to find a match with whom they must form a union that shall last at least a year."

Shoko blinks slowly, wondering if the wine has finally gotten to her head and made her imagine things. To her chagrin, judging by Utahime and Mei Mei's expressions, it seems she heard Principal Yaga correctly.

"You can't be serious!" Utahime exclaims, a bright, angry blush rising high in her cheeks.

"I wish I was, even if this would make for a terrible joke," Yaga replies grimly.

"Huh, now that's something I didn't expect," Mei Mei chuckles darkly, "A puppy mill, but make it jujutsu sorcerers… Those old men really are some twisted creeps."

It is not common for Mei Mei to be this crass, but then again, this is no ordinary situation.

"Don't be rude," Principal Yaga says, but there is no force behind his words, only exhaustion, "And don't twist my words. No one is demanding that any of you have children within the year. The official order only requires that each unmarried sorcerer finds a match - and that they live with that match for at least a year. Of course, ideally, this arrangement will become permanent and will result in children. But, if in a year's time, you no longer wish to live with the person you picked, you are free to leave without suffering any repercussions."

"That hardly sounds any better," Shoko scoffs. There are few things she appreciates in life more than having her own space, and the thought of sharing her apartment with someone for an entire year makes her highly annoyed.

"Another important thing to mention," Principal Yaga says, ignoring Shoko's words, "You are free to pick whoever you want as your match. If they agree, you'll need to come to my or to Principal Gakuganji's office to register your union. There's only one restriction - if someone who is a higher grade sorcerer than you requests you as their match, you cannot decline."

Shoko almost laughs - as it turns out, being a grade one sorcerer was good, at least for something. At least no one could force her into a match.

"Those who have not registered their union by Friday, two weeks from now, will be entered into the lottery for a random draw," Principal Yaga concludes.

"I'd like to clarify - just so there are no misunderstandings," Mei Mei's voice is calm and businesslike, her face focused - however shocked she may have been at Yaga's announcement, she's clearly pulled herself together and was already making plans, "All this new order requires of us is to find someone to live with for the next year - is that right?"

"That's correct," Principal Yaga replies, "But the underlying expectations of the higher-ups are as I discussed. And, since this is an order, new living quarters will be provided to all the couples as well as some extra compensation. With the deadline looming so close, I imagine you have a lot to think about - and I have a few more phone calls to make. Just make sure you don't delay too long."

Silence falls upon the room as soon as the call disconnects. Shoko slumps against the armrest of the couch, resting her chin on the palm of her hands. Whoever cautioned people to be careful of what they wished for was right. As much as she didn't want to be called into work because some idiot got into an avoidable scuffle with a cursed spirit, that would have been much better than whatever just happened.

For the first time in weeks, Shoko almost regrets the promise she made to Utahime to try and quit smoking - the more she thinks of Principal Yaga's words, the more she yearns for a cigarette.

"I need a drink," she says, finally, trying to distract herself from the urge to smoke. Mei Mei nods, then picks up a bottle and pours her a full glass.

"I know we've long suspected it, but this seals it," Utahime's voice is full of anger, and the next thing Shoko knows, she's pacing the room, "Seems these old men have nothing better to do than to torment us. This order is an atrocity!"

"It's quite annoying," Mei Mie offers calmly, "But if you think about it, it's not that bad."

"Not that bad?" Utahime almost hisses.

"As you've heard, all the order really requires is to find someone you can tolerate living with for the next year - and, after that, both of you can be on your merry way. As long as you find someone who views this the same way you do, I'm sure it won't be too difficult to come to an understanding," Mei Mei drawls, taking a drink of her wine, "While the situation is far from ideal, I'm sure an acceptable arrangement is possible."

"Easier said than done," Shoko chuckles. Utahime and Mei Mei were, perhaps, the only people she could fathom sharing an apartment with for an entire year, but, much to her chagrin, that would not be allowed.

"Yes," Utahime agrees, "You are saying it like it's so easy to find someone "tolerable." Have you met most of our colleagues?"

"They aren't all that bad," Mei Mei laughs airily, leaning against the back of the couch, "You just need to know how to look."

Shoko looks at Mei Mei with curiosity, wondering if she has someone specific in mind, but she doesn't ask - the last glass of wine has finally gotten to her head, leaving her very tipsy and a little tired.

"Sure," Utahime scoffs, crossing her arms before her, "And then there's the lottery… Do you think there's any chance that one won't get paired up?"

"There are more male than female jujutsu sorcerers," Shoko says, placing her wine glass on the table, "So, as a woman, I'd say your chances of not getting assigned a match through the lottery are zero."

"Besides," Mei Mei interjects, "Why would you want to leave something like this up to chance? If you get a random match, it's far from guaranteed that the two of you will see eye to eye on what this order means… Which may cause very undesirable issues."

"This order really is a way to cause a short-term demographic problem in an attempt to solve a long-term one," Shoko chuckles darkly, "Given that none of us are exactly above murder. I'll give it a few months before everyone's at each other's throats - let's see what the higher-ups do then."

"All the more reason to pick someone you can tolerate," Mei Mei shrugs, "Getting rid of bodies can be quite cumbersome. Now then, shall we continue looking at the hotels? I liked the first one we saw, but I want to stay somewhere I haven't been before."

"You still want to go on a vacation?" Utahime asks, surprised.

"Of course," Mei Mei chuckles, "Now even more so - given everything we have to deal with, we absolutely deserve it."

Shoko hums appreciatively - she's always admired Mei Mei's eye-on-the-prize attitude. It seemed like nothing could ever sidetrack her from something she really wanted. And, given everything that has just transpired, she could really use a distraction.

"I suppose you are right. "After all, that would be the perfect excuse to get away from those thrice-cursed matches the higher-ups want to saddle us with," Utahime muses momentarily, then looks at Shoko, "Are you in?"

"Of course," Shoko nods. Principal Yaga's words are weighing heavy on her mind, but Shoko pushes them away and smiles, "At this point, I'll do anything that will let me catch up on sleep."