#and another man who had years more experience and training and a similar type of power

[pippin-pippout]

god I hate blackbeard so much. Like he doesn't even deserve this power that is capable of beating almost anyone. He killed someone else for the devil fruit. Then he had the nerve to ask Ace to follow him? While being as disgusting of a human as he is?

[robininthelabyrinth]

The Other Mountain - ao3 - Chapter 22

Pairing: Lan Qiren/Wen Ruohan

Warning Tags on Ao3

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Wen Ruohan woke up groggy and disoriented.

This did not come as a surprise, as it was not particularly unusual for him: a hundred years and more, infinitely powerful cultivation, and somehow he’d still never quite gotten the hang of mornings. Once he’d become accustomed to sharing his bed with Lan Qiren, who like the rest of his sect preferred to rise at inhumane hours, the other man had routinely been able to get up, go about his morning ablutions, go outside to train, and come back to bed before Wen Ruohan even twitched his fingers in the direction of his clothing.

Not that he usually needed to get up early, of course. That was one of the many benefits of power: the Nightless City might never sleep, but it only really got going when he did. Lan Qiren had remarked several times that he found it unusual that the quietest hours in the day were the early morning, as those were often the hours most generally preferred for chores, until eventually Wen Ruohan had taken pity on him and explained that his servants and disciples had judged it better to do their chores at an hour before they risked waking up their irritable sect leader.

(“Ah, yes,” Lan Qiren had said, nodding. “I had a similar experience when my nephews were toddlers.”

“…toddlers.”

“Yes, they got terribly cranky when anything disturbed their naps. I would always refrain from doing anything too loud during that time of the day.”

“I don’t think I appreciate your comparison.”

“Comparison? I was conveying that I understood – ”

“That was a comparison, and you know it.”

“...perhaps. Truly a strange and inexplicable parallel. Perhaps even an opportunity for you to learn some form of lesson…?”

“Not in the slightest. Clearly I’ll just have to put more effort into making sure you don’t see me as a child. Perhaps something more adult instead.…?”

“Again? Already? It’s not that I object, of course, but sometimes you genuinely make me wonder: do you have no other hobbies?”)

The memory made Wen Ruohan want to laugh.

He opened his eyes, and found, to his puzzlement, that he was not in his own bed, neither alone nor (preferably) with a warm and energetic Lan Qiren coming in straight after his exercise, but rather in his favorite sickroom.

Most people would not be able to say that they had a particular preference in sickrooms, but in this, as in many ways, his Qishan Wen sect was different. His sect had been founded by a surgeon (who’d also been an assassin and a warlord, as the situation required – those needles of Wen Mao’s had been put to any number of purposes, a practicality his descendants had whole-heartedly embraced), and as a result, they had always prided themselves on their medical skills. Naturally, the Nightless City’s sickrooms ought to reflect that pride, which they did in both quality and in sheer multitudinous quantity.

The rooms were always well-equipped, well-staffed, and well-tended to, as befit a sect with their inheritance. His Wen sect disciples had even taken to dividing them up by type of illness: one reserved for people suffering from physical harms such as broken bones or sword cuts, another specializing in treating diseases, a third for cultivation problems…

Wen Ruohan was currently in the one fondly and universally known as the “you fucked up” room.

It was a large room, having at some point in the past been meant to be a warehouse, but it had been filled with room dividers to create the illusion of smaller spaces. Each little nook was supplied with a standard-issue cot, a blanket enhanced with warming talismans and a pillow similarly made to be cooling, a slate at the end of the bed for doctors’ instructions, and little else. This room specialized neither in a particular type of injury nor a particular type of cure, and neither did it make any differentiation between injuries unique to cultivators or more commonplace sorts that anyone could suffer.

It had a singular focus, which was to say, it catered exclusively to people who’d caused their own malady through stupidity.

To be more specific, it was reserved for people who’d hurt themselves through excessive over-exertion, which was commonly regarded as an offshoot of idiocy. Strained muscles, overworked meridians, twisted ankles, emptied dantians…even those scholars who developed headaches from reading too much in poor light, it didn’t matter; they all ended up here. A doctor would look them over, snort in disdain (a requisite and much-enjoyed part of the treatment), and order them to stay, rest, and recuperate, which usually translated to being confined to rest for a given length of time, typically marked out in chalk on the slate that hung over their cot. The room was patrolled by junior disciples still learning the way of medicine, most of them at the stage where they had more enthusiasm than skill, and they were all licensed to meet any attempts to escape prematurely with paralyzing needles, jabbed in as hard as their black little hearts desired.

Wen Ruohan remembered the place fondly.

He’d once been a very frequent visitor, in fact, back when he’d been constantly experimenting – he couldn’t quite now remember when he’d stopped, or why, but it had always been enjoyable. After he’d become sect leader, the senior doctors had used his visits as a means of teasing their juniors. They would archly insist that there was no choice but to follow the iron-clad traditions of the room, without exception, even if the patient was their terrifying sect leader, and eventually one unlucky or suicidally brave junior would be tasked with placing and enforcing the chalk marker beside his bed. Not that Wen Ruohan ever listened, of course, since naturally very few of them really dared to try to jab him (and he just shrugged off the few that did). As fun as tormenting the junior generation was, he simply had too much to do…

Ugh, speaking of which, he was probably falling behind even now. Wen Ruohan squeezed his eyes shut with a groan. He didn’t even remember what he’d been experimenting with to cause him to end up here, but it didn’t really matter. He couldn’t linger. He was the sect leader, there was always something to do.

He mentally reached for the running list of tasks he invariably kept in the back of his head – and then frowned, coming up empty. He couldn’t think of what he had planned to do today. Had his secretaries failed to bring him his schedule the night before? Had he injured himself sufficiently badly that he’d simply forgotten it all, somehow?

What had he been doing last that had led him to come here, anyway…?

Wen Ruohan’s eyes abruptly flew open: Xixiang. The mountain. Lan Qiren!

He sat up in the bed at once, ignoring the sudden rush of vertigo with an effort of will. He remembered Cangse Sanren standing beside him, telling him that he’d blown out all his spiritual energy, but also that she was having people search for Lan Qiren, who had last been seen going to see his brother – had they been found? What state was he in?

Wen Ruohan was in his favorite sickroom, which meant he was in the Nightless City. Hadn’t he last been in Xixiang? How had he even gotten here?

How long had he been unconscious?!

The chalk marker in the room was unhelpfully blank, and the room itself was oddly empty, so there was no one to ask. Overusing one’s qi didn’t usually result in unconsciousness that lasted longer than a few days at most, but Wen Ruohan had always been extraordinary, so he didn’t dare make any assumptions. He got up out of bed – then staggered, unhelpfully, but righted himself with an effort and a hand on the wall – and made his way to the main door of the sickroom, pushing it open to break the binding of the sound-proofing spell so that he could try to find Lan Qiren by listening for the sound of his voice, however futile –

Oh.

There he was.

“How can that possibly be your first solution to the problem?!” Lan Qiren was saying…no, that wasn’t quite right. He was bellowing, in fact, and from somewhere not far away; Wen Ruohan thought he might have been able to hear it even without sharpening his hearing to try to find him. Lan Qiren’s voice rang loud and clear, immediately identifiable, as welcome as the sound of a rooster crowing in the dawn after a night-hunt gone wrong.

He sounded fine.

He might not be fine – as if being “fine” were possible, given that Lan Qiren had successively suffered the Fire Palace, the shock of realizing what his brother was doing, and then his brother himself – but he sounded fine, or at least uninjured, unharmed, alive…

Wen Ruohan arranged his clothing and ignored how sore he somehow still was in favor of following the sound of yelling.

“I cannot believe that any reasonable person would think that to be an appropriate proposal. It doesn’t even fix the actual underlying issue. It barely even postpones it! I cannot believe…no. No, no, no. Simply no. Denied.”

A fainter murmur, some unimportant person that Wen Ruohan didn’t care about saying something in response.

“This is me trying to keep an open mind!”

The noise turned out to be coming from the Wen sect’s receiving hall, where Wen Ruohan usually sat in the main seat and received petitioners, including his subordinates, or else visitors. It was used exclusively for sect business. It seemed to be full, which puzzled Wen Ruohan briefly: what sect business could there possibly be happening right now, with him not there…?

He let himself in through the back, managing to avoid notice only by virtue of the fact that everyone inside the room was looking at Lan Qiren.

Wen Ruohan was looking, too. Lan Qiren – one side of his face was badly bruised, with a black eye that definitely hadn’t been there before, and a bandage was tied high on one of his arms, binding both upper arm and shoulder. As injuries went, it wasn’t too bad, and the colors on his face suggested that he was already well along the path of healing, that extremely pure golden core of his already ameliorating the worst of it. It certainly didn’t seem to be slowing him down in any way.

On the contrary, Lan Qiren seemed to be in particularly fine form today, with an especially fierce scowl and face red enough that he looked on the verge of trying to breathe fire. Oddly enough, he was seated on the main seat, where Wen Ruohan usually sat, glaring down at the usual run of petitioners and high-ranking Wen sect subordinates as if he wanted to order them all away – wait.

Wait.

Was Lan Qiren attempting to deal with sect business? With Wen sect business? Was that what was going on now?

It was.

Wen Ruohan felt a sudden surge of tremendous fondness fill his chest, making him feel warm. He could see Cangse Sanren perched on the floor next to the main seat with a gigantic shit-eating grin on her face, looking for all the world like a vulture watching its next meal struggling to its death right in front of its eyes for its amusement, dinner and a show combined. That explained an awful lot: Wen Ruohan distinctly remembered having mentioned to her, in a fit of bitter pique, that in the event of his untimely death, Lan Qiren’s status entitled him to the right to rule the Wen sect as his widow.

Cangse Sanren was the sort of person to find the idea sufficiently funny that she’d encourage Lan Qiren to do it while Wen Ruohan was merely incapacitated, and Lan Qiren sufficiently duty-abiding that he’d assume he had no choice but to agree, even if he didn’t think himself fit for the role. And thus, presumably, they had ended up here.

Wen Ruohan couldn’t blame Cangse Sanren one bit, though. This was hilarious.

Poor Lan Qiren. Ten years of leading the virtuous (or, well, mostly virtuous) Lan sect had clearly not prepared him in the slightest for what he was dealing with in the Nightless City.

Not that he was doing badly.

In fact, he’d even apparently somehow managed to deal with Wen Ruohan’s wives, which in the normal run of things Wen Ruohan would have assumed to be his biggest problems. However, instead of jockeying for position or fighting Lan Qiren for the right to lead, they were contentedly in their usual positions for the rare times they attended to matters of sect management.

Practically, this meant that Lu Qipei was putting on a show of pretending to supervise but mostly just displaying herself to best effect to win the admiration or envy of the female disciples in the audience, wearing something that was no doubt going to be the peak of fashion in another month or two once everyone copied her look, while Shen Mingbi…well, Shen Mingbi was currently preoccupied smiling at a man wearing the insignia of a Fire Palace guard and a face that for whatever reason vaguely reminded Wen Ruohan of Lan Xichen, while he in turn ignored the ongoing proceedings in favor of smiling back.

Ugh. Not another one! How had Wen Ruohan managed to marry women with such poor taste?

At least Lan Qiren didn’t have that problem.

“Go back and think once more on the issue and how to solve it, then bring me a proposal that does not include threats, blackmail or gross negligence of your duty as a cultivator and, for that matter, as a human being,” Lan Qiren said crossly to one of Wen Ruohan’s lieutenants, who looked abashed. He was presumably the one who’d presented the idea that had so raised Lan Qiren’s ire. “In deference to the customs of your sect, I am not excluding the options of using bribery, petty theft, and crimes at around that level – ”

Wen Ruohan choked down another laugh.

This was amazing. He’d have to find a way to reward Cangse Sanren for having thought of it.

“ – but you have to at least start with something remotely palatable. To human beings. Yes, even human beings of the Qishan Wen sect. Am I understood?”

He was.

“Good. Dismissed. Who’s next?”

There was then a brief silence, during which Wen Ruohan’s very brave Wen sect disciples looked at each other with expressions suggesting that they’d rather volunteer for the Fire Palace than volunteer to become the target of Lan Qiren’s attention and Wen Ruohan himself continued to try his absolute best not to laugh audibly. This was far too funny to interrupt.

Eventually, someone cleared their throat and stepped forward – it was Wen Yingjiu, Wen Ruohan’s hapless nominal head disciple. Presumably he’d been pushed forward as a sacrificial lamb by his peers.

“A gift has arrived for Sect Leader Wen from Lanling Jin.”

Oddly enough, that made Lan Qiren snort in what sounded like audible disdain.

“I see,” he said, with what sounded almost like a sneer. “I take it that Sect Leader Jin has received my letter indicating my displeasure regarding his sect’s participation in framing our Wen sect and that he is now trying to go above my head. Is that it?”

Our Wen sect.

Wen Ruohan felt a delightful little shiver of pleasure to hear Lan Qiren call it that. That was as it ought to be, of course – they were married, and Lan Qiren’s marriage vows meant that he rightfully ought to treat his new sect as if it were his own – and of course Lan Qiren was never improper in public, not even when Wen Ruohan occasionally wanted him to be.

He wasn’t foolish enough to think that it meant that Lan Qiren had forgiven Wen Ruohan, or that he was willing to stay voluntarily, or really anything at all. It didn’t signify anything other than the fact that Lan Qiren had good manners and an overactive sense of duty and the sense to preserve face. And yet – and still –

Our Wen sect.

Wen Ruohan liked that.

“I cannot say, Senior Lan. But it is a princely gift: a rare saber from the northwest region,” Wen Yingjiu said, his tone appropriately respectful. Presumably he’d decided to err against calling Lan Qiren “Madam Wen”, which was probably the right move, even if the alternative would have been much funnier. Wen Yingjiu had always had a decent sense of self-preservation, one that outweighed even ambition. “The messenger who delivered it insisted that the Sect Leader would enjoy having it in his possession. The saber is said to be of surpassingly fine quality, beyond anything that can be made in our present cultivation world.”

“Is it really?” Wen Ruohan said, unable to keep from speaking up. He’d always enjoyed receiving high-quality gifts, even when they were obviously meant to be bribes – all good things ought to belong to him, after all, and he wasn’t too picky about how he got them. So what if it was a bribe? Even if he accepted it, nothing was stopping him from betraying the person who’d sent it later on. And since both he and the person trying to bribe him knew that, one could scarcely even call it unethical. “I’m not sure what the Nie sect would have to say about that. How does it compare to theirs?”

The sound of his voice was like dropping a rock into a still pond, the effects of it rippling outwards in waves: everyone turned at once to look at him once they heard it, rows of heads all moving one after the other. Even Lan Qiren, seated up at the main seat, twisted himself to look in Wen Ruohan’s direction, and as he did some strange emotion flickered over his face, only visible for a moment. Wen Ruohan couldn’t quite distinguish what it meant.

“I cannot say, Sect Leader,” Wen Yingjiu said, saluting him at once. He seemed relieved to see him, which said something either about his loyalty or, more likely, Lan Qiren’s ferocity. “The messenger from Lanling Jin sang its praises, and from my humble appraisal, I would agree that it seems to be exceedingly well-made.”

Wen Yingjiu was head disciple of the Wen sect and possessed perfect recall, which meant that he had a pretty good sense of judgment as to what made a good weapon. That meant the saber probably really was exceptional – one of those wonders that were sufficiently impressive that even the ridiculously wealthy Lanling Jin thought them worth keeping in their treasure room. It had probably pained Jin Guangshan immensely to part with it.

“How nice,” Wen Ruohan said, smirk curving his lips as he thought about Jin Guangshan squirming in discomfort but ultimately giving in to reality, knowing that he needed to appease Wen Ruohan’s anger. “Perhaps we should invite Lao Nie over to see which one is the better.”

He was only speaking lightly, thoughtlessly saying what he would have normally said as if nothing had changed, but he had reason to regret it the second it came out of his mouth: the room went completely silent, and Lan Qiren’s face abruptly froze over into complete neutrality.

Wen Ruohan wanted to smack himself. Was he some novice at politics, not to realize that he’d inadvertently implied that he might be willing to accept Jin Guangshan’s bribe and override the expression of disapproval that Lan Qiren had sent out in their sect’s name, in his name? Accepting the gift suggested that he would be willing to cast aside Lan Qiren’s hard work on his behalf, to put someone else’s word over his yet again – a subtle but effective way to put Lan Qiren back in his place, as Jin Guangshan had laughed to him during the discussion conference.

It was certainly not a good way to start making things up with Lan Qiren.

Wen Ruohan immediately wanted to take back his words, but he didn’t know how. Showing weakness in front of so many of his subordinates was impossible, especially when he genuinely felt weak – humor aside, his body felt immensely sore and somehow also too light, as if the usual heavy cloak of power he usually carried with him everywhere was gone. Anyway, it would be inappropriate to admit that he was wrong, because that would be admitting too much. He hadn’t actually said anything out of place or inaccurate, merely a little tone-deaf.

And yet, having Lan Qiren think that Wen Ruohan valued Jin Guangshan over him…

“That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard,” Cangse Sanren said helpfully, if by helpfully one meant it in the sense of throwing fuel onto an already blazing fire. “I mean, really, Sect Leader Wen! You just fought a mountain. Is it really still necessary for you to argue with Sect Leader Nie about who’s got the bigger dick?”

The tension in the room shattered.

Lan Qiren slumped in the main seat with a groan, putting his hands over his face, while the petitioners all burst out in choked-off guffaws and sniggers, some notably less choked-off than others.

Wen Ruohan smirked.

“Well,” he drawled. “Actually – ”

“No,” Lan Qiren said firmly. “Absolutely not. This conversation is not going there.”

Wen Ruohan shrugged, putting aside the uncalled-for burst of relief he was currently feeling. It was only natural that he would find a way to salvage the situation, even if it was with assistance.

“Very well, have it your way,” he said, purposefully casual, as if his comment earlier had merely been meant as a joke. “I suppose Cangse Sanren has a point. There’s no point in comparing anyone to me, now, is there? Yingjiu, under the circumstances I think you’d better send the saber back. We wouldn’t want Jin Guangshan to get the wrong idea.”

“Yes, Sect Leader! At once!”

Lan Qiren looked begrudgingly appeased, and the rest of the room looked profoundly impressed. There, that ought to do it: he’d erased the implication of his earlier statement, and publicly reaffirmed his support for Lan Qiren’s disapproval of Lanling Jin. Now that would make Jin Guangshan really squirm…as was only right. What had the man been thinking, joining forces with Qingheng-jun to scheme against Wen Ruohan and his sect like that?

If it had been Wen Ruohan up in that seat right now, he wouldn’t have limited himself to a mere letter of disapproval. At a minimum he would have demanded a whole cartful of treasures, or maybe even some land, a subordinate sect or two sacrificed to his ambitions…Jin Guangshan ought to count himself lucky!

“Should you be here?” Lan Qiren abruptly asked, frowning at Wen Ruohan. “I thought the doctor said that he intended for you to rest for a while longer? Someone said something about a chalk marker…?”

Wen Ruohan smirked at the idea that someone had had to explain the rules of the “you fucked up” room to Lan Qiren, hopefully in terms as colorful as the way he’d always heard it – though actually, now that he thought about it, he did rather feel as though he might want to go back to bed relatively soon. What was wrong with him? He’d never been this weak after exerting himself.

Though he supposed it had been rather a long time since he’d done himself in this badly…

“Enjoying your new work so much that you’ve decided to get rid of me?” he drawled.

Lan Qiren didn’t rise to the bait. “If that were my intention, I would tell you in advance.”

He probably would, the ridiculous man. Wen Ruohan could imagine it now: Lan Qiren all puffed up like a albino bird of paradise, solemnly stating that he regretted to inform him that he had decided he had no choice but to kill him and that he would appreciate it if Wen Ruohan would be so kind as to make himself ready for the attempt.

It was an oddly comforting thought.

“However, assuming you have just violated the doctors’ directives, I suggest you return to your sickbed, or at a minimum to your room, to continue resting,” Lan Qiren continued, looking annoyed. Or possibly concerned? It was hard to tell with him, sometimes – and for whatever reason, Wen Ruohan had the sudden feeling that Lan Qiren was being deliberately dismissive of him, almost performatively so. “Unless you want to take over managing sect business…?”

Wen Ruohan looked at his subordinates, who looked at him hopefully.

“No, I think I’m enjoying this too much,” he said thoughtfully, and smirked when their faces all fell.

“Well done, Sect Leader Wen!” Cangse Sanren cackled. “Milk that invalid status for all that it’s worth! At least one more day, please. You see, you just missed Qiren-gege threatening everyone to start the morning session at yin shi – ”

“At chen shi, not yin shi! A shichen after dawn, not before!”

“Was that it? I couldn’t tell from the way everyone looked like you’d threatened to murder their first-born sons. Remember, it’s only called the Nightless City because they’re all insomniacs!”

“Oh?” Wen Ruohan said, arching his eyebrows and allowing his tone to become a little dangerous, just for fun. “Is that what someone has told you…?”

The entire room full of petitioners took a step back away from him.

Lan Qiren’s eye twitched.

He turned to Cangse Sanren and said: “Take him away before I throw something at his head.”

And then, to Wen Ruohan: “Take her away before I strangle her.”

“Shall we?” Wen Ruohan asked, offering her his arm. She jumped up and trotted over to take it.

“We shall,” she said with a grin. “You promised me a tour.”

Wen Ruohan was fairly sure he had done no such thing. And, indeed, the moment they had left the main room behind by some distance, Cangse Sanren said, quite casually, “The tour can wait. I want to yell at you. Where’s a good place for that?”

Wen Ruohan opted to lead them both back to his bedroom, since it would be private and he was certain that Lan Qiren, unlike his wives, would think nothing of him taking a woman there to talk. Also because he was feeling increasingly dizzy, and he preferred to be weak somewhere he had protected with many, many layers of protective arrays. Technically the sickrooms were similarly protected, but he had no interest in returning there – someone would undoubtedly come to find him there now that he was awake, and he wasn’t in the mood to listen to complaints.

“How long was I out?” he asked as they walked.

“It’s been a few days,” she said promptly. “Not too long, really quite usual. We had the senior doctor that Qiren said looked least likely to gossip examine you – Wen Dairong, I think his name was – ”

That was fine. Wen Dairong usually preferred research to patients, but he’d kept his hand in with doing the rounds in the sickrooms enough that his skills hadn’t deteriorated, and he was notoriously close-mouthed. Best of all, he was one of Wen Ruohan’s more trustworthy cousins, having always very obviously set supporting his beloved research as the price of his loyalty, and no one could meet that price better than Wen Ruohan.

He wondered if Lan Qiren had been worried when he found out that Wen Ruohan was unconscious. He was fairly sure that Cangse Sanren wouldn’t tell him even if he had.

“Anyway, he confirmed that there’s nothing seriously the matter with you – well, nothing the matter with your health – other than qi exhaustion. Well, other than extremely severe qi exhaustion.” She glanced at him sidelong and waited until they were in his room, with its privacy arrays activated, before she bluntly added, “You completely emptied not only your active supply of spiritual energy but also your reserves, and you dipped pretty heavily into your life force, too. Nothing that will cause long-term damage, but I’m telling you, you were dry. No matter how ridiculously quickly you accumulate more through cultivating – I’ve seen the charts, by the way, so well done there – there’s simply no way you’re getting back to normal until at least a few months have passed, if not more. Welcome to the world of us mere mortals.”

Wen Ruohan scowled.

Unfortunately, after he sat at his desk and took a moment to examine himself, he was forced to conclude that Wen Dairong was right. He didn’t just feel weak, he was weak – not quite down to the level of a common person, but certainly around the level of a common (if still very talented) cultivator. He had woken up too quickly and without guidance, and hadn’t realized the level of his weakness when he’d headed out. No wonder Lan Qiren had made such an effort to get him out of the receiving hall, with Cangse Sanren playing along to make it seem as though neither of them had any concerns for Wen Ruohan’s health or strength.

The information would get out eventually, of course. But their apparent dismissiveness would deceive people for just long enough – long enough to give Wen Ruohan a little more time to decide how to best control the narrative, to ensure that the rest of the cultivation world remembered that while he was weakened, he would only be weakened for a short while, and that in the interval he still had his army and nearly half of the cultivation world at his beck and call.

And also to remind them that when he returned to normal, he would be even more powerful – and extremely vengeful against anyone who dared to try anything in the interim.

“What happened with Qingheng-jun?” he asked Cangse Sanren, who had seemingly forgotten her plan to yell at him in favor of poking around the bedroom with an expression of profound interest. At the moment she was perusing one of Lan Qiren’s annotated copies of the Lan sect rules, which had been carelessly left on the bedside table after Wen Ruohan had grabbed it for a (purposefully rather ostentatious) consult during one of their more contentious bits of bed-play.

That had been a good day. Lan Qiren had been so incredibly annoyed to have lost the argument, and Wen Ruohan had enjoyed every moment of it – as well as every moment of Lan Qiren taking it back out on him later on.

“Qingheng-jun? He’s missing,” Cangse Sanren said, turning back to look at him. “Possibly after having some sort of nervous breakdown? It wasn’t entirely clear. Lan Qiren only saw him leave, and since then he hasn’t been seen anywhere, not even by his own sect, which is starting to be more than a little nervous about it…to make what is undoubtedly a long story short, I’d say our Qiren won that encounter hands down.”

“He hurt him. Lan Qiren’s face – ”

“There’s nothing we can do about that right now, so stop thinking about it. Between you and Qingheng-jun, which one of you just fought a mountain again…?”

Wen Ruohan rolled his eyes.

“The whole world saw you do that, you know. It’s going to have some interesting consequences.”

“Let it,” Wen Ruohan said dismissively. “How is Lan Qiren doing?”

Cangse Sanren gave him a look.

“Oh, yes, please, let’s talk about that,” she said acidly. “The Fire Palace? Really?”

“I concede that I erred,” Wen Ruohan said stiffly, not appreciating her insolence. How dare she think she had any right to scold him? “Also, this is a discussion I will be having with Lan Qiren, not you.”

She arched her eyebrows. “You don’t want advice on how to make up with him?”

On second thought, Wen Ruohan was a practical man from a practical sect; he knew how to be flexible when necessary. With someone as complicated and rigid as Lan Qiren…he could probably use all the help he could get.

He gestured for her to sit.

Cangse Sanren perched herself on his chair, once again resembling nothing more than an over-large bird, probably of a corvid or a vulture. She tapped her distinctive fingernails on his desk, drawing his attention.

“All right,” she said. “You’ve already gotten to the point of admitting that you fucked up, that’s better than I expected. It’s still not going to help you. You really fucked up.”

Wen Ruohan was aware.

“So what’s your plan? You have to apologize.”

Wen Ruohan grimaced.

“Apologize and be punished,” she clarified mercilessly. “The Lan are big on exacting justice.”

Wen Ruohan was aware. Unfortunately, he still wasn’t sure what type of punishment he could offer up that would actually mean anything to Lan Qiren.

“…Lan Xichen suggested I write an essay,” he finally said, all too aware of how pathetic the suggestion sounded. “Laying out what I did wrong and explaining that I wouldn’t do it again.”

“That’s not actually that bad of an idea. He’d probably find it charming,” Cangse Sanren said, to Wen Ruohan’s surprise, but then almost immediately afterwards she made a face. “Well, assuming you were actually willing to do it properly. What’s your proposal for the ‘never doing it again’ bit?”

That had also been the part that had tripped up Wen Ruohan. He was always going to be sect leader and Lan Qiren was always going to be just the sect leader’s spouse – even if one accounted for the unique husband and wife dynamic they’d chosen, there was always going to be an imbalance between them.

Wen Ruohan was always going to have more power.

“Become omnipotent and therefore no longer make mistakes?” he offered, only half-joking – he knew it was unrealistic, but the thought was so very appealing. He was already so powerful, surely if he only tried a little harder, he would finally get to the level where all his problems would be solved. Right?

Cangse Sanren groaned. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you’d say. No essay. It’ll just make it worse.”

“I’m open to alternate suggestions.”

“Nice try. He’d know if it came from me rather than you, and I’m not the one you want him to forgive.”

That was extraordinarily unhelpful.

She hummed. “You are at least aware that at least one part of the problem is that you even have a torture palace to begin with, right?”

Wen Ruohan scowled at her.

“I’m just saying, it’s a lot harder to throw people into your torture palace if you don’t have a torture palace,” Cangse Sanren said with a smirk. “Also, have you ever considered knitting? Or embroidery?”

Wen Ruohan stared at her.

“You know, because you like stabbing things…?”

“Out,” Wen Ruohan said flatly. “Now.”

“Listen, if you would just get another hobby – ”

“Out.”

After Cangse Sanren left, Wen Ruohan opened a drawer in his desk and dug around until he found a very old set of acupuncture needles that he hadn’t used in any number of years, then got up and went to the garden to find a sunny spot to meditate. It had been quite a long time since he’d needed to cultivate the old-fashioned way, but he still remembered the tricks he’d used to do it faster than his peers. Though technically speaking, jabbing yourself with acupuncture needles to help you process spiritual energy faster wasn’t so much a trick as it was an incredibly unwise medical procedure. But that was only if you didn’t know what you were doing…

(He refused to consider if this counted as part of a hobby of “stabbing things.”)

He'd only been meditating for half a shichen when a noise pulled him out of it.

Several noises.

“Are you sure we’re allowed in here?”

“No one’s ever here during the middle of the day, it’s fine.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“Don’t be a spoilsport.”

“Is this really where Shufu lives now? It’s so big!”

Wen Ruohan opened his eyes and watched bemusedly as a small troop of children marched right into his quarters, with his own little Chao-er leading the way, looking pleased as punch with himself.

For a moment, Wen Ruohan felt rage swelling in his heart, the urge to lash out growing. How dare these children invade his quarters without permission? How insolent they were! He was busy. Didn’t they realize that he had to regain his strength, and quickly? If he didn’t, who would be left to defend his home and his sect –

Well, technically there was now Lan Qiren to do that.

Hmm.

There was something appealing about that.

He took another moment to observe the children, who hadn’t yet noticed him sitting in the corner of the garden. They were sticking mostly to the inside rooms, avidly exploring the various surfaces – the Lan boys were very proudly pointing out everything that visibly belonged to Lan Qiren, no matter how inane, while the other children oohed and aahed appreciatively, and Wen Chao was bouncing around and pointing out things that were characteristic of the Wen sect to equal appreciation.

Interestingly, Wen Chao seemed more comfortable with the younger boys, most particularly the Jiang heir, who he seemed especially eager to impress. It was an interesting choice, given the availability of the seemingly more charismatic Wei boy or the more mature Lan Xichen…or even Jiang Yanli, who was following the others with a surprisingly mischievous smile.

And speaking of smiling, Wen Chao was doing a surprising amount of it, almost to the point that Wen Ruohan briefly doubted that that was his son he was looking at. As far as he was aware, Wen Chao always looked either bitter or resentful, sulking like the spoiled princeling he was whenever Wen Ruohan wasn’t around and cringing and cowering whenever he was. He’d unfortunately inherited a solid portion of his mother’s stupidity, being both gullible and easily manipulated, and those traits in combination with Wen Ruohan’s prickly pride had led him to form grudges against virtually all of his peers in the Nightless City, many of whom had undoubtedly been given ulterior motives by their parents. It wasn’t a bad thing, necessarily, to learn to detect that early on. But unfortunately the result had been to leave him alone, making him a lonely and unpleasant child, willing to lie to get his way but not quite cunning enough to pull it off.

None of that was presently in evidence. Wen Chao looked happy.

How strange. Wen Ruohan had mostly written off his second son, figuring that children mostly resembled their mothers in childhood and their fathers in adulthood, that Wen Chao would therefore improve and acquire more of Wen Ruohan’s own traits as he got older and that there was therefore no point in bothering with him until then. But looking at him now – well, either Wen Chao had very abruptly matured overnight, which seemed highly unlikely, or else the presence of a group of his peers that were not only willing to spend time with him but actively intended to incorporate him into their group for reasons other than their parents’ selfish schemes was doing wonders for his personality.

Wen Chao was practically shining with delight, and with pride. For once, the habitual arrogance of the Wen sect sat upon him naturally rather than hanging off of him like an ill-fitting coat.

Much more like Wen Ruohan than his mother. Good, good. About time!

(Really, if this was the result of Lan Qiren’s casual instruction to his nephews to befriend his son, who by that point he’d barely even met, Wen Ruohan couldn’t wait to see how much active instruction by the man would benefit his son further.)

No, it was better not to interrupt. He wouldn’t want to ruin Wen Chao’s big moment, after all.

“What are these swords doing on the wall?” Wei Ying asked. “They seem pretty nice.”

“They’re treasure swords!” Wen Chao chirped. “Each one of them has a name and a history, a reputation – they’re all famous, every one of them.”

“Isn’t it dangerous to have swords on your wall, though?” Jiang Cheng sounded doubtful. “What if they fall off? Or what if someone comes in and grabs them in the middle of a fight…?”

“My father would grab them first,” Wen Chao said. “And then he’d kill them.”

Good boy.

“It would be awesome,” he added proudly.

Wen Ruohan smirked.

“But why so many?” Wei Ying wanted to know. “Don’t most people only have the one spiritual sword that they cultivate with…? Does your father have a favorite, or – ”

“Children!” Lan Qiren’s voice cracked out like a whip, making them all jump and scatter like a flock of startled pheasants. “What are you doing in here?”

“We were looking around, Shufu,” Lan Xichen said respectfully.

“We weren’t bothering anyone, Teacher Lan,” Jiang Yanli said, and Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying nodded furiously in agreement with her. “We didn’t disturb anything in here, either.”

“We just wanted to see where Shufu lived,” Lan Wangji explained.

“I told them you lived with my father,” Wen Chao put in, very proud. “They didn’t believe me at first, but now they do.”

From where Wen Ruohan was sitting, and because he knew to look, he could tell that Lan Qiren’s ears had gone pink. It was perhaps a little strange for a married couple with separate courtyards available to choose to share one instead – verging on shameless, really, since what it usually meant was that they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

Hopefully none of the children had picked up on that. Lan Qiren might die of embarrassment.

Also, if he didn’t stop blushing, Wen Ruohan was going to start laughing.

“You still should not have entered these rooms without permission,” Lan Qiren said firmly. “These are Wen Ruohan’s private living quarters. What if he objected to your intrusion?”

“That’s why we came now,” Wei Ying explained. “So he wouldn’t be bothered! He can’t be bothered if he’s not here!”

The children all nodded in agreement.

Lan Qiren blinked owlishly at them with a frown. “What do you mean ‘he’s not here’? He’s right over there, in the garden.”

“He’s what?!” Wen Chao shrieked.

Wen Ruohan smiled with teeth when the children finally looked over at him.

The next ke or so was spent in childish pandemonium – and Wen Ruohan trying and failing not to laugh – until Lan Qiren got tired of it all and ordered them all (excluding Wen Ruohan) to leave.

“And each of you will copy lines for half a shichen this evening,” he added sternly. “Xichen, you will be in charge of selecting which lines, but I expect you to pick something appropriate regarding respecting one’s elders and the privacy of others. Understood?”

“Yes, Shufu! Understood, Shufu!”

“Jiang Yanli, as the eldest, I expect you to both supervise and lead by example.”

“Yes, Teacher Lan. Understood, Teacher Lan.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

Wen Ruohan watched them go with amusement. “You speak to the children in the same tone you use for my lieutenants,” he remarked once the children were gone. “Or should that be the other way around…?”

Lan Qiren glanced at him only briefly, then turned away. “Get those needles out of your wrists. Words will not be able to encompass my displeasure if you manage to further hurt yourself in an effort to recover your power faster.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Wen Ruohan said, though he did remove the needles and get up to come back into the room. Why wasn’t Lan Qiren looking at him? Was this the result of the Fire Palace, now that Lan Qiren had had some time to think about it…? “Why are you here?”

Lan Qiren stiffened. “I live here. Am I unwelcome?”

Wen Ruohan hated the ungainly awkwardness that seemed to have suddenly sprung up between them. It had never existed before, not even right after they had first married – Lan Qiren had been earnest, then, and sincere, even though he’d also been recently traumatized. There hadn’t been any of this…prickliness.

This – wariness.

Wen Ruohan hated it, but he knew he had only himself to blame.

“Not at all,” he said, keeping his voice deliberately light, smooth. “I only meant that I would have expected you to continue to receive petitioners until later in the afternoon. They’re usually especially needy immediately after some major event.”

“I dismissed them early. I wanted to find you to discuss an important matter – we’ve received an invitation to go to the Lotus Pier.”

Wen Ruohan arched his eyebrows. That was unexpected. “What reason does the Jiang sect have to invite us?”

“Not just us,” Lan Qiren explained. “The entire cultivation world. They are holding a celebration…ah, no, let me explain from the beginning. It is about what happened in Xixiang.”

“…they’re throwing a party over it?”

Lan Qiren had the world’s most tired and long-suffering expression. “The cultivation world has unanimously decided that they did not, in fact, nearly go to war, but rather that everyone had merely gathered together to tackle the ghosts of Xixiang.”

Wen Ruohan felt a sudden headache. “Are you joking?”

“I am not. Everyone worked quite collaboratively against the spirits that emerged from the mountain. It is being hailed as an example of the cultivation world overcoming obstacles to unite against evil.”

“That is the most transparent face-saving lie I have ever heard in my life,” Wen Ruohan marveled. “My very, very long life.”

That got a faint smile out of Lan Qiren.

It faded quickly, though.

“Transparent or not, everyone has an interest in maintaining it,” he said briskly, shifting back to impassively discussing politics. “No one had time to question the ghosts, so the secret of the mine remains intact, and the excuse of a night hunt in the area happens to match perfectly with the lie that drew your army there – a large-scale haunting, which they were invited to help eradicate. The aggressive moves by Gusu Lan and Lanling Jin can then be explained away as mere over-enthusiasm and the result of unfortunate misunderstandings, particularly as both sect leaders retreated or left relatively early in the proceedings – ”

Wen Ruohan was deeply unsurprised to hear that Jin Guangshan had gotten spooked by seeing a display of what real power was capable of and ran away, leaving his forces to face the music without him. He’d probably spent the time comforting himself with his current mistresses and putting together a plan regarding who he was going to blame for having gotten involved in the first place. Maybe he’d even re-use Wang Liu, who had undoubtedly outlived his usefulness. Certainly that pathetic display earlier suggested that Jin Guangshan was absolutely desperate to get back into Wen Ruohan’s good graces…

“I have even heard,” and now Lan Qiren’s face was set in deeply disapproving stone, “that some people appear to be trying to claim that the misunderstanding was originally caused by an illusion array, possibly a ghost wall of some unprecedented type – ”

Wen Ruohan snorted in disgust. That sounded like the Jin sect all right. “Face-saving all around, then.”

“Yes, exactly.” Lan Qiren sighed. “The Jiang sect, for its part, wants no one to pay attention to the fact that a war was nearly started with an independent sect so close to their border, particularly since it quite evidently happened without their knowledge. Moreover, they are also using this party as an opportunity to make up for the discussion conference that was canceled…”

Wen Ruohan snorted a second time, this time in amusement. That wasn’t going to happen.

Lan Qiren hummed in agreement. “Unfortunately, this situation presents us with two issues. The first is that we do not know where my brother has gone or what he might do. Putting aside his future actions in their own right, he is still capable of sharing the details of what happened in the mine, which would by itself be devastating – he is the last remaining witness to the actual events of the mine, excluding the Gusu Lan sect elders involved.”

“I assume from that statement that you’ve confirmed that the merchant house that committed most of the massacre was put to the sword in turn?”

Lan Qiren scowled. “None of your record keepers were able to find any trace of them after that time, so I would assume so. Likely in the name of ‘justice,’ as we are dealing with hypocrites.”

Lan Qiren was still furious at his sect elders, it seemed. Quite reasonable.

At least he was displaying some emotion. Wen Ruohan was growing increasingly displeased with the neutral expression Lan Qiren sometimes put on, finding it far more hateful than his unvarnished rage. Now that he had seen Lan Qiren use that deadened face in public meetings with his political enemies, he no longer wanted to see it when they were alone.

“What’s the second problem?” he asked.

Lan Qiren glanced at him again – another fleeting look, there and then gone. “You have been invited as the guest of honor, on account of your heroism in defending the common people of Xixiang. It would be impolitic to refuse.”

Now it was Wen Ruohan’s turn to feel prickly. “Why should we refuse? Are you suggesting that I would be unable to attend? You think I am too weak, perhaps? Or merely untrustworthy…?”

“Ridiculous,” Lan Qiren snapped. “I had only thought that you might not wish to appear in public until you had had more of a chance to recover.”

Wen Ruohan sneered. “Yes, you’re just being considerate, of course. How could I doubt it? When you won’t even look at me – ”

Lan Qiren’s jaw tightened, and Wen Ruohan cut himself off. What was he doing? This wasn’t what he’d wanted at all.

He’d wanted…

“Cangse Sanren said that I shouldn’t write you an essay,” he blurted out.

That got a reaction, at least: Lan Qiren turned to stare at him. “An essay?”

“I asked your nephews how I could make you stop being angry at me after I – after a misstep,” Wen Ruohan explained. “Lan Xichen explained that if it was him, he would write an essay explaining what he had done wrong and expressing that he wouldn’t do it again, as well as proposing appropriate discipline to be imposed. But I could not think of what discipline would be appropriate, and Cangse Sanren said that offering to become omnipotent as a solution was likely to backfire, so – ”

He stopped again, but this time it was because Lan Qiren was laughing.

At first it was only a little, an incredulous little chuckle, but then it got stronger and stronger until Lan Qiren’s shoulders were shaking with the force of his laughter.

“Is this,” he wheezed, “your idea of an apology?”

“It’s not exactly an area in which I have a great deal of experience,” Wen Ruohan said, watching Lan Qiren’s face, all crinkled-up with good humor, and wanting desperately to kiss him. “On account of the fact that I am so rarely wrong.”

That just made Lan Qiren laugh harder.

Eventually he needed to sit down, which he did on the bed – quite promising, really. Wen Ruohan went and sat next to him.

“Tell me,” he said. “Have I beaten out Lao Nie?”

“Beaten…? Oh, you mean in being the most obnoxious man in the world?” Lan Qiren wiped his eyes. “Do not tell me you have gotten competitive over that. It is hardly a title anyone would want.”

“Perhaps I simply wish to be first in your thoughts.”

“Me and the rest of the world,” Lan Qiren said dryly. “I am well aware of your narcissism.”

Wen Ruohan had meant his statement to be romantic, but he had to concede that Lan Qiren had a good point. Also, he’d forgotten that there was no point in romantic subtleties with Lan Qiren; the man was too blunt and literal for that.

He’d have to be equally blunt in turn.

“Your sect believes in punishment that ends and absolves the error,” he said, because he still couldn’t bring himself to force the words I was wrong and I regret what I’ve done through his lips. “Is there something that would be appropriate here? I am willing.”

Lan Qiren’s humor slowly faded away, and he sighed.

“I do not think that it would be appropriate for me to suggest a punishment in this circumstance,” he said. “The purpose of punishment is twofold: deterrence and remediation. Deterrence applies both to the community at large, to show them what is wrong and what is right, and to the individual, so that they never again do what they know to be wrong. Remediation is a matter of balancing the scales of justice, repairing the harm committed so that the victim is appeased and peace restored. While punishment can be imposed and often is – discipline is generic, even-handed, applicable to all, a way to teach and to remind those who err of the importance of the rules that underwrite the basis of our community – it is a little different when punishment is being used as a means of penance. In those cases, voluntary accedence is the most effective.”

Wen Ruohan frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means that you will need to determine for yourself what the appropriate punishment will be. As the victim, I can absolve you of the harm you caused, if I wish, but that is only half of what you must do: there is still the question of deterrence. Only you can determine what you must do now to show your sincerity – what sacrifice you will make that would serve as both payment for the past and a promise to the future.”

Wen Ruohan scowled.

“There are any number of punishments that you can choose from. There are punishments of pain, where you show your sincerity through suffering the pain that you caused others or to use the pain to burn in the lesson to be learned; there are punishments of time, where you devote yourself to writing lines or essays or some other form of contemplation that encourages you to truly think about what you have done wrong. There are even punishments which consist merely of loss – loss of advantage, loss of privileges, or even loss of freedom…though I will say that I would greatly disapprove if you chose seclusion as a punishment.”

“Absolutely not,” Wen Ruohan assured him. “As a general rule, I try not to lock myself alone with my paranoia. It only makes it worse.”

Lan Qiren’s eyes curved in another smile. A lingering one, this time.

“Explain to me what this means,” Wen Ruohan said. “You won’t impose a punishment until I select one that is appropriate? Does that mean we are at odds until then?”

“No, merely that your punishment is not fully complete until you yourself determine that you have completed it. For the half that involves seeking to remedy the harm…” He paused briefly, then shook his head. “There is no need. I am willing to accept your apology and forgive you.”

Wen Ruohan stared.

“You were tricked,” Lan Qiren pointed out. “Anyone can be tricked. I understood at once what must have happened.”

“You were tortured,” Wen Ruohan said. “On my order. You shouldn’t forgive me just like that!”

“And that is why punishment is required,” Lan Qiren said patiently. “You cannot force me to forgive you, but you also cannot force me not to. It is wholly up to me whether I wish to bear a grudge, and I do not. But only punishment will adequately serve to make you believe it.”

That was true in one respect: Wen Ruohan didn’t believe it.

Or, rather, he supposed he did believe it, but it wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want Lan Qiren to forgive him because the Lan sect rules said Do not bear grudges. He wanted something else. Something better.

He wanted Lan Qiren to trust him again. He wanted Lan Qiren to love him.

And that meant, he supposed, that that was what the punishment was really for: to show Lan Qiren that Wen Ruohan meant what he said. That Wen Ruohan was serious, that hereally was sorry, that he really wouldn’t do it again.

Only then would Lan Qiren be able to really forgive him in his heart, rather than merely forgiving him in his head.

“I’ll think of something,” he said, and for the first time really meant it, rather than a half-hearted attempt to patch over the consequences of his actions. “Give me some time, and I’ll come up with a suitable punishment. One that even you won’t be able to say is inappropriate.”

“Do not underestimate yourself,” Lan Qiren said, sounding amused. “You excel above all others.”

Wen Ruohan should not have felt complimented by what was obviously an insult. He was, though. Just a bit.

“Though, on that note, I feel that we should discuss what you did with the mountain.”

Wen Ruohan arched his eyebrows. “I suppose, like Cangse Sanren, you wish to scold me for overexerting my strength and making a spectacle of myself?”

“On the contrary. I wish to praise you. You did a very good thing, saving the common people, and you did it at great cost to yourself.” Lan Qiren shifted a little, and Wen Ruohan noted that his ears had gone red once more. “Perhaps it is arrogance on my part, but I flatter myself to think that I played some role in your decision to do what you did – ”

“It’s not arrogance when it’s true,” Wen Ruohan said. “You’re right. I did it for you. Or – not for you. Because you would have wanted me to.”

Lan Qiren looked at him, and there was that strange emotion on his face again, the strangest mix of pain and fondness.

“That pleases me more than I can say,” he said, and Wen Ruohan smirked proudly. “Well, let it not be said that the rules are not fair. Just as they demand punishment for wrongdoing, so too do they demand that rewards be given for exceptional behavior.”

Reward?

Wen Ruohan brightened. A reward sounded good.

“Of course, we must account for the fact that you have been injured and rendered vulnerable,” Lan Qiren mused. “I would not want to cause you to feel any sense of threat from me, and also we must avoid causing you greater harm…I have been giving the matter some serious thought, and I think I have found a method that would work well.”

This sounded very good.

“Of course, it would require you to consent to being tied up – ”

Forget very good. This was going to be great.

[vudutarot]

How you start is not always How you finish

My first intro to Orisa was a way of Self Discovery, i was already working on my spirituality, training with Mentors in the Psychic community and reading clients when my regular reader Kept telling me that there was an african woman behind me saying the word “O-ri-sha”. Neither of us knew What that word meant but he insisted that I Found out. This Psychic was an old white man. A Message is a message despite the appearance of the Messenger

I eventually Traveled to New Orleans many times, had various experiences, even moved and became a reader there without ever knowing that New Orleans was where my paternal great grandparents immigrated to the USA from Jamaica through New Orleans, which I discovered many years later.

After getting into contact with a well nown Santero in Miami, I flew over to get Divination done, receive my elekes, guerreros, olokun, palo muerto etc. even got scratched in Preparation for doing ocha.

I eventually left the ile and my ocha basket, my elekes and orisas there After many things occurring, things spoken during misas that made me go hmmm and just general blockages. Several times my GPS would stop working and I would find myself lost for hours trying to find my padrino’s home. With him being a santero of elegua, I thought that was significant.

Eventually I took a break, went to a Babalawo and received my hand of ifa, new warriors etc. Discovered that the previous house was planning to initiate me to the wrong orisa, it was supposed to be his orisa and felt a type of ways. The babalawo that cast my odu isefa had the same ifa odu as me and also was a little shocked and my oluwo tried to illuminate my naive mind.

I took a long break from the religion, I had noticed that I garnered way more success without it, I had made the most money in my career, when I just left santeria alone. I tried one last time to give cuban ifa a try with another babalawo who remade all my shrines, taught me, mentored me, gave me me osain and allowed me to help him with clients and basic rituals and sacrifices. Learned a lot but same as before, nothing miraculous really changed. I switched to an Isese babalawo (popoola lineage) for ebbos just for change of perspective. I effectively left santeria, ifa and orisa for good, I would just get an ifa divination once in a while.

I went back to vodou because that was my first ATR experience and the ancestral pull as well as it actually worked for me. But during kanzo in Haiti, I started to dream a lot about Africa, somewhere I had never been or wanted to go, and I blew it off.

Months later, I had this strange dream involving sango, talking about ifa, I thought it was ludicrous so I contacted my babalawo for divination, and the odu cast spoke about both sango and going into ifa. Weeks later, I got another divination from someone from an afa lineage without telling him anything and he had a similar divination result. So I took it seriously after talking to 3 different babalawos from three different lineages and countries.

I found myself in africa for the first time, I was afraid, I did afa initiation as well as other ceremonies, I was still apprehensive though. After coming back to usa, I got an outside divination and it came out in ibi, someone was trying to take me out.

I got very ill, doctors ran tests for 5 weeks even wearing a heart monitor and they could not figure out why my heart was failing. Yup, I was dying at 33 years old, 5 years later my brother died at 33. You probably guessed it, it was an inside the family thing. Anyways, I was terminated from my employer and I threatened to sue them very publicly because I had nothing to lose. They settled, I had a large sum of money but I was still dying so I had two choices have fun or do orisa initiation and hope for a miracle.

I was invited to the ebohon center in Benin city, got my nigerian visa but I was too sick to travel back to africa, didn’t have medical authorization, so I went to Brazil instead, to initiate under one of Araba agboola’s godchildren there, I stayed for 5 weeks. I did a lot of ceremonies. I went into trance with orisa for the first time, then again and again. It was around the third time that I felt a significant change in my heart beat and the palpitations had stopped. Within 3 months, I never had another problem again.

I went back to Brazil and found out I was touched by the candomble bug via my previous godfather, meaning he mixed some things Brazilian and Isese. one tradition does not wipe out the other, no baptism can undo a previous ceremony also finding out that sango never left me alone despite him not being the orisha of my ori. I went to a festa of xango at the famous terreiro do cobre, one girl was mounted with xango, hugged me and wouldn’t let go until I slipped into trance. I woke up in the back room and the iyalorisa of the lineage said I had to do some ceremonies in candomble. I went to various terreiros to get differing opinions and they all said similar things. So that’s how I ended up in candomble when I didn’t want to be.

Before the pandemic, I went back to nigeria and Benin to learn, study, do more ceremonies over a planned trip of 6 weeks which turned into 6 months. Surprisingly enough I ended up in the ile of another popoola lineage babalawo and iyanifa without realizing it.

just clarify my relationship with the popoola family is purely transactional, I bought their entire library of books, lectures, songs, etc, did divination with them for many years and used their olorisas they usually employ but they don’t consider me to be affiliated and so neither do I. I have never met chief popoola in person

Ejiogbe is the odu of many ebbos, sacrifices, orikis, loss, abundance, gossip, jealousy, betrayal, triumph over adversity, healing, longevity, being well known but alone, many taboos, honesty but many lie on you, charity without gratitude or acknowledgment.

[anthonybialy]

Biden Seeks More Inflation

A president who can’t walk straight is running again.  Joe Biden will get a staffer to fasten his Velcro before taking off.  The White House fence keeps him from wandering off as much as it protects residents.

Biden can sound foolish without reading aloud.  An incumbent who is best served when he’s prevented from speaking can’t even sound smart when lickspittles write his words.  There’s a chance to review text before tweeting, which executive minions think they’re too smart to exercise.  The account posting under his name proclaiming a desire to “finish the job” serves as the most unintentionally hilarious phrasing in recent political memory.  A vague threat of a promise is perfect in its way.  Inadvertency is the only time the present branch-sitter helps.

Laughing at the announcement is one of the few moments of levity during a heavy presidency. Arrogant dolts who’ve dedicated their lives to politics can’t manage to craft a message that inspires ungrateful peasants.  Some lame company that sinks to pleasing customers would ask a focus group about that slogan then wonder why there’s so much giggling.  But experts on life itself don’t need to do anything undignified like interact with the real world, which is why they entered politics.

Warning of the devastation that a successful campaign would bring is precisely the sort of ineptness that anyone who’s spent a moment outside of a Democratic regime would expect.  Failing to realize how bad the performance appears is called the Pete Buttigieg effect.  You know who to vote for if you don’t wish to return to a dull era where trains stayed on tracks.

Biden is older than the Slinky.  There’s no spring in our steps.  A man geezers call hoary would be 86 during his replacement’s inauguration.  That’s presuming the second term isn’t such a delight that the populace demands suspension of the 22nd Amendment along with the rest of the Constitution so our hero can really take care of business into his second century.  I might classify that scenario as unlikely. Based on precedent, the decades spent leading up to these years is the least worst thing about this presidency.

It’s not Biden’s quite advanced age that causes him to rail against liberty, rights, and various other American niceties.  Free markets are one of the things older than him, and he hates them like the rare reporter who notes his record.  One can’t lose sharpness one failed to ever possess.  This regrettable presidency would’ve inflicted similar agonies had this irritable oaf won in his 40s.  He’s plagiarizing his own bad ideas.

This eternal charmer was a nastily dim jerk half a century ago.  The most elderly executive America has ever endured didn’t chill out when grandchildren arrived.  Werther’s are too costly for Grandpa to dole out to good whippersnappers.  It sure was cruel of sellers making everything expensive right after Biden took office just to drag down a loving despot.

The lack of compassion seen amongst Democrats belies their constant assertions of caring more than you.  Their addled puppet has to be reminded of his unfortunate ideology.  Manipulating someone who should be spending his days arguing about golf cart parking restrictions in The Villages is almost as diabolical as the torment their beliefs cause everyone else.

A high quantity of birthdays doesn’t let honorees off the hook.  This administration’s regrettable idea package reflects exactly what Biden would pimp if he remembered anything other than his morning bowl of Apple Jacks.  Experience is overrated if it’s spent spreading crime and poverty.

Overall predictability is the smallest consolation for dealing with daily volatility.  The Biden presidency isn’t just a regrettable thing to type.  A man who’s done plenty if harm counts has overseen a presidency that’s gone exactly as expected.  The particulars about liberalism in action shock in a way overall aching doesn’t.

Another four years of printing money to get rich will finally mend our finances.  As with all Democratic policies, it takes just a little more currency and autonomy to turn a toxic waste dump into an idyllic paradise you’ll never want to leave.  You don’t oppose a clean Earth as well, do you?  Unlimited free funds from a government that never runs out is best idea from someone who’s never provided notions or labor people would pay for voluntarily.

Seeing how many embassies America can flee is one kind of record.  Homesick Yankees compete in a race to get back home to Biden’s wonderland.  The White House claimed they would prevent enmity manifested in chaos, and now they have ample examples.  Widespread conflict abroad resembles America’s suddenly violent streets if anyone fretted we were arrogantly unwilling to adopt international standards.

There’s good news for anyone who thinks life has been particularly pleasant since 2021.  Everyone else who’s sick of the few goods they’re able to acquire getting stolen wants to fire the one person who makes it happen.  Crisis management voters who want to limit damage to one term are trying to live without the presidency affecting everything, which is the whole point.

Republicans could of course screw up the easiest chance to take real estate possible.  The masochism of re-election could be sickly enabled by incumbent’s advantage, which props up even one who's caused as much widespread devastation as his last boss Barack Obama without the cheap charisma.  Only the greatest businessman ever could have lost to this hateful schmuck, and running steak salesman and professional baby Donald Trump again would be the only thing worse than falling for his risible claims of tough fighter success the first time.

Doing everything wrong shouldn’t be rewarded, but that’d be the exact lesson we’d be teaching our young people by doubling way down.  Getting everything precisely wrong sets a baseline from which to improve if you seek an upside.  A president who doesn’t appreciate the indignity of having to ask to retain the job is begging to finally learn consequences.

[crellanstein]

Prodigious

I find it odd how the fandom focuses so much on Aang’s childhood being ruined when he learned he was the Avatar at 12, but there’s very little talk about how discovering she was the Avatar as a toddler affected Korra’s life and how she was raised.

But we’ll circle back to that...

Because this is a good starting point to talk about one of the most prevalent themes in the story, which the mainstream discussion of tends to only focus on a few characters -- That is the Child Prodigy. 

We’ll start with the two most obvious. The ones we always talk about.

Azula.

The clearest example of your typical child prodigy (if there is anything typical about a prodigy). Azula showed early mastery of very advanced Fire-Bending techniques, and is the only Fire-Bender to use blue flames, which was intended to make her stand out amongst the other villains but is also indicative that her Fire-Bending is more pure and powerful (blue flame is produced when burning pure O2 or fuel without contaminant at a very high temperature). 

All this lead to her being praised and favored by Ozai as a child, but as double-edged swords go, this also meant she had a lot of pressure on her shoulders to never fail, and she rarely did. Her ego matched her talent, and let’s be honest she was the baddest bitch the show had ever seen. Conquering Ba Sing Se, defeating the Avatar in combat, and dropping some of the most devastating lines of dialogue in villain history; she was a force nobody wanted to reckon with. 

And that become a problem for one asshole in particular...

Being jealous of his own child is just one item on a laundry list of reasons why this guy is the worst father in the history of fathers. Azula had begun to outshine him with her victories, and Ozai’s maniacal ego couldn’t handle that, so he left her behind to babysit the Fire Nation while he went out to burn/conquer the world, which also was her idea.

And while this wasn’t the only thing that aided in her demise, it certainly was the final straw which sent her spiraling down into this...

In the end Azula is a sad example of how certain unfair expectations are placed upon talented children, and the more they succeed, the more these expectations grow and weigh on the them until they either disappoint those looking down on them or surpass and embarrass their elders.

It is a lose-lose situation which inevitably destroys them.

There is a similar example of the child prodigy, but his story goes a little different.

Aang.

Even as a twelve/thirteen year-old boy Aang by far has the most impressive stats among any character in the Avatar universe.

Basically mastering 3 of the 4 Elements in less than a year, after mastering Air by the time he is twelve (not to mention inventing his own Air-bending move, the Air scooter). 

Aang is an example of a child prodigy who had too much thrust onto him at too young an age because of the talent he showed; because of this he panicked and ran away, and the world was worse off for it. 

Aang/Sokka/Katara’s story is all about how in times of War, responsibilities normally handled by adults are pushed onto kids who then have to grow up very fast in order to deal with it all.

The message is clear. War robs the young of their childhoods. 

Now, let’s talk about a different kind of child prodigy.

The Unacknowledged. 

Yes, of course I’m talking about Toph, the greatest Earth-Bender to ever live.

Because of her blindness, Toph’s family tried to keep her sheltered and safe by hiding her from the world. Refusing to believe she could ever be more than helpless. Anyone who has seen the show knows that is far from the truth.

But because her potential went unseen, there were some negative effects to her personality. Initially, she resented her parents, and rebelled; which established a certain level of independence, a bad attitude, and a hot-headed streak. Over time spent with the Gaang these behaviors subsided because she finally had friends and they accepted her for who she was. By the end of the series she was fully willing to accept aid from them when she needed it, like holding on to Sokka’s arm in environment where her bending couldn’t help her “see”. 

Toph’s story is a foil to Azula’s, both showed immense talent and badassery, but while recognition of Azula lead to ever-mounting pressure for her to succeed; the lack of recognition for Toph created a need for her to be acknowledged and set an undercurrent of frustration which leads to her acting out in the ways she does.

The lesson to take from Toph’s story is not to shelter your kid from the world out of fear for their safety, and to be open to recognizing their talents, not shun them.

Next are two more Unacknowledged.

Katara and Sokka.       

Their story, and the reason behind their circumstances, is one of the more complicated and nuanced ones in the series, so here we’ll focus on how it fits into the subject of discussion.

Because of the War, Katara was robbed not only of her mother but also of any Southern Masters to train her, and any role models Sokka could have looked up to left with his father to fight. Because of this Katara’s potential and Sokka’s genius went unacknowledged not due to neglect but rather due to circumstance. (Yes, I think Sokka is a genius, how many 15 yr olds do you know that can plan an invasion, design submarines, and spit poetry off the cuff?).

This is a further example of how War robs kids of necessary childhood experiences, and these two robberies had particular effects on both Katara and Sokka’s character developments.

Sokka had the responsibility of protecting his home put upon him at a young age. The men of his tribe leaving prevented him from completing his rite of manhood until the Gaang ran into Bato of the Water Tribe, and early on Sokka was constantly trying to prove himself as a man and a leader. Sokka is one of the smarter characters of the series, but he rarely got credit for it until the third season. Not to mention that because he wasn’t a bender he often seemed less useful than the others. The circumstances of war made his talent go unnoticed and because of that he often was unsure of himself and overcompensated to prove something.

Speaking of talent going unnoticed.

Katara is definitely one of the more talented benders of the series. After training herself for years with little progress, she essentially mastered Water-Bending in a few weeks under Master Pakku. While her anger towards the Fire-Nation mostly centers around the loss of her mother, it can’t be ignored that the delay in her training was a direct result of the Fire-Nations’ actions.  Toph’s anger and frustration vented itself as rebellion. However, the same frustration and anger is within Katara, but because she wasn’t as natural a bender as Toph she sought to learn and be respected, and when that was denied to her is when that anger bubbled to the surface in some terrifying ways. 

While Toph’s talent went unnoticed because of her families neglect, Katara and Sokka’s wasn’t acknowledged because there was nobody to acknowledge it. Because of that both brother and sister wanted to prove themselves to the world.

And then there is Zuko.

I know what you’re thinking. Zuko wasn’t a prodigy, his Fire-Bending skill didn’t catch up with Azula’s until the finale and he never mastered Lightning-Bending, but this section is about the Unacknowledged.

Zuko had many other talents besides Fire-Bending, he was a master swordsmen, and was able to successfully break into every secure facility he attempted in the show (which was almost every secure facility the show featured).  Unfortunately, these talents were never recognized, because the only thing the royal family cared about was bending ability (It’s possible the reason he learned the sword was because he lacked skill in Fire-Bending). 

As per usual with Zuko, this part of his tale is quite sad. Many can relate to being outshined by a sibling, and when it becomes all too clear that one cannot match another’s talent it’s quite understandable to focus on what they do excel at, but even then there is no promise of recognition for their own talent. Zuko was even mocked by his father during the solar eclipse when Ozai tried baiting him into attacking with his swords. 

This lack of recognition is one of many sad aspects of Zuko’s early life, but it is a definitive example of one of the hardest unacknowledged prodigy’s cross to bear. The Outshone prodigy, one whose talents are never noticed because a bigger and brighter star stands in the way of such recognition, and arguably the most frustrating type mentioned here. Toph/Sokka/Katara all came from situations were there was no recognition being given to them or anyone, but Zuko had to bear watching massive amounts of praise be piled on to his sister while he and his accomplishments went by the way side.

Ozai summed up the situation best.

“Azula was born lucky, Zuko was lucky to be born”

Alright now where have I been going with all this?

So, far we’ve covered a lot of wrong ways to treat a child, whether they show talent or not, and how the circumstances of war can also take many things from children.

But what happened to Korra?

(Before we get into to this I should state that I like Korra, and the purpose of this is not to bash her as a character or her arc, but rather to give a little of my insight into it.)

It’s well established that Aang was told of his heritage too young, and that was a detriment on his development into an adult, but what would have happened if he realized his powers himself not long after he could walk? We’ll never know, but we do get to see the effects it had on Korra. 

When she revealed herself as the Avatar, Korra set her entire life in a new direction, and because Aang tasked the White Lotus with finding and training her that direction was out of her control. There are two key differences between Korras’ and other Avatars’ lives.

1. She grew up in isolation on a White Lotus compound.

Every Avatar before Korra we know of spent a portion of their early lives traveling the world in order to master the elements; along this journey they not only learned how to bend the other 3 elements, buy also many things about the 3 other nations and the world they are tasked to protect as a whole. By confining Korra in safety and bringing the masters to her the White Lotus deprived Korra of this opportunity to learn and grow and understand the world and the people within in. It also deprived her of learning modern bending styles until she reached Republic City.

While this might have kept Korra safe from the Red Lotus, it grew within her a naiveté about how the world worked, and because of this when she actually did venture out into the world she was terribly unprepared for it.

2.  She was trained and mastered 3 of the elements by the time she was 16.

Most Avatars don’t know they have this power until they reach 16 and then they spend several years learning to control it. Korra’s natural talent in the bending lead to her training being expedited not by necessity like Aang’s, but due to her talent and eagerness. Korra excelled at the physical part of being the Avatar and because of this by the time she reached maturity she had become over-confident in her abilities and true to what her Fire-Bending master said in Ep.1 she lacked restraint.

I’m not saying her bending isn’t great, but rather because it is so great it’s her go-to solution to anything, and she enjoys that so she uses it with enthusiastic gusto and not a lot of thinking before striking.

This overconfidence coupled with her naiveté of the world is what lead to many of her rash decisions and actions, most of which had negative consequences, and I believe are the reason behind some fan are dissatisfied with her. Aang had been almost the complete opposite, even by the age of twelve he was an experienced world traveler and an incredibly humble guy. 

Some may have been dissatisfied by these character decisions, but they served a purpose, they are only the beginning of her arc. The internal challenge Korra must overcome through 4 seasons is to humble herself before the world, and learn from it. This was finally achieved in the 4th season when the metal poisoning in her body forces her to face others in the world as equals, only then had she completed her journey.

And why did it all go this way?

Because she is a very unique child prodigy, what she demonstrates in the first episode of LOK would be akin to a toddler playing the violin or hitting a three-pointer; she could bend 3 elements close to just after learning to walk. That is the kind of prodigious talent rarely seen because it is mostly impossible. How does a rational person handle a child like that? 

It’s a tough question, and something this essay has been circling around the whole time. Each example here is the wrong way to handle talented and different children, but what is the right way?

As always look to Iroh.

Who treated his surrogate son Zuko with both respect and compassion. 

Unlike Toph’s parents, Iroh worried over Zuko’s well being, but also allowed him to be independent, make his own decisions, and take his own risks.

Unlike the Nomad Leaders, he didn’t want Zuko weighed down by his position in the world and the responsibility that came with, and always encouraged him relax and take advantage of the moment.

Unlike Ozai, Iroh would always be there to support Zuko in his victories and his failures. Iroh shows him the right path but does not force him down it.

And even after Zuko betrayed and abandoned him.

Iroh was never angry with him, and embraced him upon his return.

He wanted Zuko to grow and be a better man. Even if Zuko wasn’t a prodigy like his sister. 

And that is the answer here. The way to raise a prodigy is the same way anyone should raise any child. Love, Support, a Guiding Hand rather than a Forceful Shove, Recognition of What Makes Them Unique, and Forgiveness When They Falter. The problem comes along when you start treating children differently because you see them as different or special. All children are different, all children are special.

Kids are kids, and they all deserve a proper childhood.  

[raineydays411]

My Father's daughter pt 3

Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Summary: Back at the Tower, Y/n has a talk with Pepper.

a/n: ohhh another part finished!! some new characters will be revealed next part and i’m so great full for @social-media-imagines-by-me fir helping me create them💕💕

You were furious.

You stormed into your room and slammed the door, finding satisfaction in the loud bang it produced. You then ripped through your drawers and closet, pulling on some work out clothes and some gloves. You then marched out of the room, slamming the door again, startling Sam and Bucky who happened to be passing by.

"Geez kid, slam it a little harder I don't think it fell off the hinges yet." Sam jokes, but you were in no joking mood so you swirled around with fire in your eyes.

"You okay doll?" Bucky softly asks, pushing a frightened Sam to the side. You sigh, knowing it's not fair to take out your anger on them.

"Sorry Sam, it's just...my biological mom is here and wants me to move in with her."

"Oh..." Bucky says, not good with things like this, " Do you want me to like...kill her or..."

"NO" You laugh, " It's just I haven't seen her in nine years and she has the audacity to come up here like it's nothing?!"

Your anger returns, " She thinks that just because she pushed me out of her vagina"

The two men cringe at the words

"That she can just claim me? That's not how it works!" You shout, " And, she brought her fucking husband. The man she left us for! Who does that?!"

Bucky looks at Sam, mentally asking him what they should do. Sam just rolls his eyes and turns back to you.

"Come on kid, it looks like you wanna punch something."

and with that he lead you to the training room where Steve was training with Peter.

"Come on queens, you gotta stay on your feet" Steve k=jokes as he, again, trips Peter.

"Mr. Rogers, do you think we should take a break?" Peter pants.

You stride pass them, not bothering to say hi. They look at Sam and Bucky for an explanation and just get a shake of the head.

"Hey Y/n that's my punching" Steve started to say when he saw you throw a hard punch to the bag, "Nevermind..."

You ignore the group behind you, opting to pummel the poor punching bag in front of you.

Your mind flashes back to your mother and her words.

"A girl needs her mother"

*punch*

"Oh petal I wanted to call"

*punch* *punch*

"Come to Gotham. Meet your siblings!"

*BANG*

You look down to see the punching bag flew off the hook and is spilling sand on the floor. You were confused, as you knew you weren't strong enough to do that, not even when you were angry.

"Wow, I guess Cap didn't secure that hook again."

You jump, not expecting someone to be there, as you heard Sam, Bucky, Steve, and Peter leave. You turn to see Pepper there looking at the bag in surprise. You sigh, stepping away from the mess and taking off your gloves. You make your way to the bench and take a swig of water.

"Did you need something Pep?" You ask, avoiding eye contact.

"Well, i was just wondering if my kid was okay. But given the fact that you punched that bag like it would restore your honor.."

You knew you shouldn't have showed her Avatar.

"I'm assuming your not." She finishes.

You give her a half smile, looking down at your hands.

"Y/n" She says, " Talk to me."

You finally speak, "Why now?"

Pepper frowns, understanding that small phrase, ' I don't know."

"She's not my mother." You state, " She...she might have been once but now?"

Pepper nods," I love you."

You smile, the words reassuring you, " I love you too Pep."

"Come on, your messing up your manicure." She says with a smile, standing and extending a hand towards you. You feel your demnor soften and your mood lighten. Pepper always managed to make you feel better.

"Yeah okay..thanks." You say, taking her hand and letting her pull you from the bench, " Are you hungry? Cause I am>"

"Y/n we just ate!"

"Like an hour ago"

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

Days went by and you hadn't heard a peep from Christine. It was like she went off to lick her wounds and just decided not to reach out again.

Which didn't bother you one bit.

But apparently the universe wanted to fuck with you because when you came home from a day out with Peter, there was your mother, Bruce Wayne, and all six million of her fucking kids sitting on the couch.

"What the fuck?" You say causing the attention to turn to you.

"Language" Peter says, You smile softly at him before then turning to glare at Tony.

"Don't look at me, it was your moth-uh Peppers idea." Tony stumbled, looking rather uncomfortable sharing a drink with the man that his...wife? girlfriend?... whatever she was left him for.

"Pep what?" You asking, softening your glare because you'd be damned if you disrespected her.

"I just think it'd be best if we clear the air and get everything out on the table." Pepper said in that tone she uses when she's dealing with difficult people or the press. You called it her CEO tone.

"Now, go take your bags upstairs and wash up. And I'll pretend that you aren't an hour late"

"It was Peter's idea..." You mumbled and walking to the stairs that lead to the bed rooms.

"It was not!" Peter shouts following you to the rooms to help with the bags.

Christine watched as her daughter walked out of the room, playfully arguing with Peter. It was as if she were a whole different person, carefree and playful. Totally different from when she was glaring and stiff when talking to her. It broke her heart hearing Tony refer to Pepper as her Mother rather than Christine. But what did she expect?

Damian scoffed catching her attention, "Mother I do not see why you've dragged us here, that girl didn't even acknowledge us."

"Damian, enough" Bruce said, not looking away from his awkward conversation with Tony.

"Gee if only I could do that with our kids." Tony mutters into his drink.

"Does Y/n argue often?" Bruce asks trying to engage in conversation.

Tony laughs before fondly speaking, " Sort of. She isn't the type to back down when she thinks something is right. There was this one time I caught her arguing with one of my business partners about his "condescending tone and misogynistic attitude"."

""And did she apologize after?"

"Hell no. She glared at me and told me apologizing just for his ego would be demeaning her experiences as a woman. Although to be fair he was an asshole."

Bruce chuckles, " She sounds like a well rounded young woman. How old was she then?"

"Ah about 10, it was funny seeing this little girl argue in a Justin Bieber shirt argue about the patriarchy with a full grown man."

Bruce and Tony shared a laugh, picturing the scene.

"You must be very proud of her." Bruce mentions after they quieted down. Tony let a small smile escape.

" I am. She's had a rough life, and I..." Tony trails off, " She means everything to me. Without her...I don't think I'd be the same person I am today."

And with that, Tony downed his drink and stood, " Want another?"

Bruce smiled and accepted, watching Tony leave. He can tell that the man was close to his daughter. A bond that formed due to a loss, they both grew from it and grew closer. He understood, thinking about his own children.

Pepper and Christine were having a somewhat similar conversation, although it was a little more tense.

"So...Pepper-"

"Virginia." Pepper said, cutting her off.

"Excuse me?"

"My name is Virginia. Pepper is a nickname my family calls me."

"Oh. Okay, Virginia, how long have you known Y/n and Tony?"

"Oh about nine or so years. I was promoted to assistant when I saw how much of a mess Tony was." Pepper said casually.

Dick and Jason tensed, overhearing the tense conversation between the two mothers. But before Dick could interrupt Jason sat him back down.

"I wanna see what happens."

Christine continued, " And when did you become a..more permanent around the house?"

"When I saw that Y/n the one taking care of Tony." Pepper said in a serious tone, "She was the one making sure he didn't choke on his vomit and eating cereal as his flings walked out the room. Then he got kidnapped...and y/n was alone. So I made sure she’d never be alone again.”

Christine heart sank. She knew about the whole kidnapping thing. Why she didn't step in, she doesn't know. It's just another thing she regrets to this day.

Before Pepper could continue, she heard two sets of footsteps and voices

"All I'm saying is, if he looks at me funny, I'm fighting him and that's that."

"Yeah maybe not the best impression on..." Peter cuts off when they reach the living room. Eyes again on the two of you.

"Let's get this over with." You muttered, saying bye to Peter and making way over to the couch to sit next to Pepper.

"Y/n!" Christine says happily, " I'm glad you're here. We brought you something!"

She pulls out a box and she carefully hands it over to you.

You look at it suspiciously before getting a nudge from Pepper.

"Thank you." You grit out. Earning a glare from Damian and Cassandra.

You open the box to see...cupcakes.

"They're the peanut butter strawberry cupcakes you used to like. Remember? I used to bring them when I came to see you." Christine says, trying to bring up good memories.

You frown and close the box, " I'm allergic to strawberries."

Lie.

Pepper casts a glance towards you, "They look lovely, let me take them into the kitchen, I'll check on dinner."

And with that she takes the box and leaves into the kitchen. Leaving you and Tony alone.

"So...Stark" Damian started fixing his gaze on you.

"Yes, Wayne?" You said, matching his energy.

"What exactly is it you want from my mother?" He asks, earning a groan from his older brothers.

"Well, I'd appreciate it if she left me alone." You say with a straight face.

Christine frowns but before she says something Damian speaks up again.

"Tt, all this drama for the likes of you? It's honestly disappointing" He drawls, trying to get under your skin.

"Damian!" Christine scolded.

"Well, I apologize for not meeting your standards. I'd try harder if I cared what a toddler thought of me."

Jason let out a surprised chuckle while the rest of the family looked on in shock. Tony just rolled his eyes.

"I do not understand why Mother insists on rekindling her relationship with you. You obviously weren't worth the effort the first time around." He spits, causing the rest of the family to gasp.

You however, just laugh, " When you figure it out, let me know. It's probably the same reason she puts up with you."

Damian glares, about to start in again when Jason cuts him off " Shut up Demon. She got you man."

"Tt"

"I'm Jason, and anyone who can out that brat in check is good in my book." He says sending you a smirk.

You smile back, " I'm friends with Loki and Wade Wilson, I'm hardly affected by anything anymore." Your dad rolls his eyes again, he’s not exactly enthusiastic about your choice in friends.

You like this one. Probably the one you're gonna be able to stand in this family.

"Don't hog her Jason!" Dick shouts pushing him away before turning to smile at you, " Hi! I'm-"

"Dick Grayson. I know, you spilled your champagne on my dress a few years ago at a New Years gala." You say, still a little bitter about it.

"Oh. heh, right, sorry about that. Again." He says sheepishly.

You turn to Cassandra, " You're Cassandra. You and your friend cornered me in the bathroom."

Cassandra scowls and looks away.

Then you turned to Tim, " And you need to learn how to secure your fire walls better."

Tim looked at you confused, "Um excuse me?"

You smirked, " Just a suggestion. I assume you don't want people to know about your...bats in the attic?"

The whole family froze.

You knew? There was no way.

"Kid, are you hacking again?" Tony said exasperatedly, " You promised you'd stop after the last time."

"Hey it's not my fault Shuri didn't think about changing her password." You say defensively, “ and it’s not like you were complaining when you had me hack into SHEILDS databases”

“What was that!?” Pepper shouts from the kitchen.

“Heheh, nothing dear.” Tony shouts back then in a hushed voice scolds you, “ I gave you fifty bucks to keep that a secret.”

“I didn’t say what you had me retrieve.” You said smugly leaning back in your chair.

Bruce didn’t know how to feel.

On one hand, this teen that objectively hates his family, knows their biggest secret. She can singlehandedly destroy their family and expose them. And she has the means to.

But on the other, she’s a perfect fit for their family. She gets along with Jason, doesn’t let Damian get under her skin, and from the looks of it can definitely take care of herself. Only thing is, again, she hates his wife and by association, his family.

“I’m sorry, hacking? You know that’s illegal right?” Tim asks, still in shock that you got past his security systems.

You turn to him and in a bored tone replied , “Yeah? and?”

Tim stuttered for a bit before going quiet with a blush. It was adorable really.

You had to hold back a laugh, it was fun getting this stuffy family all riled up. Especially when you can see the disapproval in Christines face.

“Tony, you let our daughter participate in illegal activities??” Christine asks with a raised brow.

The table goes silent at the tone of her voice. Knowing that when she uses it someone is really in trouble.

But you roll your eyes because how are you supposed to know what that tone means?

“I let my daughter express herself in a ...healthy way. She knows her limits.” Tony replies cooly, taking a drink and looking back into the kitchen wondering where Pepper went.

”Obviously not. Tony she has no regard for the laws at all! You think i didn’t see the headlines last year?!”

Ah yes, last year you had a slight scandal where you may have punched a pap for trying to get a picture up your skirt but who wouldn’t?!

“ And you let her hang around criminals and terrorists?!”

You scoff, “ Oh please everyone in the Avengers was a criminal or terrorist at least once.”

“Not helping kid.” Tony says, “Christine, you and your family have no right to come into my home and judge my family. I’ve been civil. Hell maybe a little too much. Mainly because if I wasn’t, my wife—err Fiancée, would kill me.”

You snicker, earning a few glares.

“Look the point is, don’t tell me how to raise my daughter. Especially because I was doing it all alone.” Tony finishes with a sigh.

The table goes silent. You were getting tired of all the tense silences today.

“ Look.” You turn to Christine, “ I get that you probably feel guilty or something because you ditched me. And I appreciate that or whatever.”

You were not good at this.

“ But I don’t wanna live with you.”

Christine looks down sadly, “ Y/n I just...I just want to get to know you again. You’re my baby.”

Before you could answer you heard a crash come from the kitchen and smoke fill the rooms.

“ Pepper?!” You cough, “ Dad what’s happening?!”

“ I don’t know. Stay here” He says summoning his suit.

“FRIDAY?!” You shout, but not hearing the AI.

The Wayne’s all looked at each other in panic. They didn’t bring their suits, thinking it was just a dinner.

You turn to them and shout “ Come with me, and stay low!”

You start to lead them to the stair case, knowing that the rooms were relatively safe.

“Come on!” you yell when they don’t follow you.

Christine stands from her seat and makes to follow you before being stopped by Damian.

“Mother we cannot..”

“Damian, I’ve had about enough of you. Let’s go.” She says sternly and follows you. The rest of the family following behind as Bruce nudges Damian.

“ Come on son.”

“Father we don’t know where she’s leading us.” Damian says stubbornly.

“There’s nothing we can do right now.” he coughs.

The sounds of punching and the blasts come from the kitchen.

“Let’s go.”

They finally join the rest of the family. You have them crouched in the hallway.

“ This is James’ room. Dad had it modified just incase he was ever triggered into the Winter Solider again. No ones getting through this door when it’s locked.”

You usher them in.

“Come on Y/n” Christine says reaching a hand out to you.

You smirk, “ What? and miss all the action?”

You close the door and lock it before leaving. Laughing at their surprised faces.

The room is silent.

“ She’s awesome!” Jason says with a laugh.

[primofate]

Hi! Congrats on 2000 followers! 🎉💖

Could I request Cinnamon Sugar Waffles with Zhongli please?

Thank you and congratulations again!

Thank you so much dear! :D I believe two of you asked for this, so far. So here it is.

If you guys missed it. Here’s the menu to my 2k followers event:

https://primofate.tumblr.com/post/660337440627785728/2k-follower-event-pancake-waffle-cafe

Cinnamon Sugar Waffle (“I change my mind, I like you, okay?”)

Note: Zhongli would never outright say something like that so... I tried my best. IT’S REALLY MILD ANGST I FEEL LIKE IT’S MORE FLUFF HAHA I’M SORRY

Zhongli 

“That poor girl,” Hutao said, in a not so remorseful voice. In fact, it sounded as if she was having fun in explaining your situation. Zhongli looks up from his tea to the Director. 

“You are referring to...?” Zhongli trails off, not quite sure what his current boss meant. Hutao merely ignored him and hummed to herself, looking busy with papers. Zhongli stares at her. Patience was not an issue with Zhongli, even with Hutao. 

But the Director continues to hum to herself, glancing at the clock and merely excalimed, “7:00 on the dot!” her head swerves towards the door of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. As if a fortune teller, there’s a knock. “Come in!” Hutao sings, and in you come with a package in your hand. “Hutao, Zhongli, good evening!”

Zhongli smiles out of courtesy. Ah. She was talking about you. Perhaps about the fact that you visited every day just to drop off fresh tea leaves. For him. “Y/N,” Zhongli curtly greeted and braced himself for another round of you explaining what type of tea leaves you’ve brought today. 

The first few times was rather amusing. Informative, even. For someone like him who had seen nearly everything and with the experience of 6000 years, he still managed to learn something from you, albeit just a little. Most of the tea leaves you bought, he was aware of its history, its uses and its benefits. Weeks later when you still continued to visit, on the dot, Zhongli started to wonder if this had become some type of hobby for you. I didn’t bother him at all, but he was curious as to why you did it. Hutao suddenly excused herself, saying that she needed another piece of document from another room.

“How are you today, Zhongli?” You asked and took out a small sachet full of dried leaves. “Quite a mundane day,” he answered, and pushed away some documents to make way for you. “Today is a special blend! I mixed it myself,” he watched how your eyes sparkled as you told him about your special blend of tea. A mix of dried berries and ground Camellia leaves. Invigorating you say, for days where one is a little more tired than usual. 

It then suddenly occurs to him that you are doing this for him. Zhongli is far from dull-witted. Hutao was not present at the moment, and you only ever explained the tea leaves to HIM and not the Director. Nevertheless, he continues to watch you explain the other benefits of it, and its taste, then after putting back the small pouch into the paper bag, handing it over to him.

Zhongli accepts it but clears his throat slightly. “Y/N,” you tilt your head in question at his sudden, somewhat serious tone. “Yes?” He’s silent for a moment, ruminating on what to say. “Pardon me for inquiring and I do not mean to imply any hostility, but...” he fixes his gaze on you, “perhaps you’re allocating too much time on this?”

You frown a little. He says that he didn’t mean any harm, but it sounded as if, in his own careful, sophisticated and nice words, that you were wasting time on it. Or were you just imagining it? You decide that Zhongli isn’t that petty, and smile in return “It’s only really one hour out of my day...” and without hesitation you add, “and it’s for you, so I don’t mind at all.” 

Zhongli only hums in understanding. He senses that this is more than just a daily visit for him to be healthy and drink tea. “I see,” then there’s a small tension in the air. An awkwardness that hangs between the two of you until he breaks it. “I still have some tea from last time, you see, and the day before that...” your cheeks start to heat up in embarrassment, because you know what he’s implying before he even finishes. He was just too nice to say it outright: you were coming by too much and too frequently. 

“Ah, yea, I...see,” then you push the paper bag further towards him before bowing, “I’m sorry to bother you then, I’ll see myself out,” still you smile and still he smiles, just to be polite. He...hadn’t really planned for you to feel small or terrible about it. Perhaps him trying to be indirect and dropping hints was more hurtful than the truth. 

Since you had gotten the hint, for the next few days you had neither dropped by nor seen the man. It wasn’t strange to Zhongli. He went by his tasks and day as usual. But something strange happened by the seventh day. There was a distinct feeling of “something is missing” as if his every day routine had not been completed and it left him a little antsy. 

It was similar to having an itch that one couldn’t scratch. 

He was unsettled. He merely thought that it was something that would pass but by the 11th day, the itch just got worse.

He’d made a mistake. It was not just the fact that the routine was broken, but more about the unease and uncertainty. Were you doing well? What kinds of things had you been doing the past few days? Was it his words that had forced you to stay away or were you perhaps actually occupied with your own business? Either way...maybe it was his turn to visit.

“...Hutao, would you happen to know where Y/N resides?”

Hutao giggles happily, Zhongli raises his eyes at the sudden sound. “Finally giving in, huh?” He doesn’t reply, but he still receives directions to your house, which he visits, at 7:00 sharp. 

You’re beyond surprised to see him standing outside your door and for a minute you wonder if he was lost. “...Y/N, have you been well?” He doesn’t ask to be invited in. What right did he have? The only thing you do is open the door a little wider and smile at him, as if nothing had happened. “...Quite...a mundane few days,” a grin appears on his features, knowing that you had thrown him the same reply as he did that day. 

“I must say it’s been the same for myself,” you chuckle, thinking that he had nothing more to add. “perhaps a little more mundane than usual, I admit, without your presence around,” you freeze at the words. Eyes trained upon him and unsure of what he meant. You tear your gaze off of him in slight embarrassment, turning to the ground. “Mmhmm,” yet again there’s a bit of silence hanging around like a curtain concealing and separating the two of you from the rest of the world. 

Like the two of you were in your own world.

He speaks up first, voice smooth and low. “...would you be opposed to the idea of me visiting you instead?” because he thinks you’ve done your fair share of work. You’ve done your fair share of showing interest. And try as you might to stop your lips from curling upward, you fail at it, showing a slightly lopsided smile. “No, I would love that,”

“7:00 on the dot?

“7:00 on the dot.”

[coexiising]

art deco - anakin skywalker

SUMMARY ◆ You’ve been Anakin Skywalker’s Padawan for almost five years now, recieving training from one of the most brilliant Jedi Knights you have ever met. In an attempt to further your training, you and your Master take a trip to Naboo, however, it is soon revealed that your feelings will get in the way. 

WARNING(S) ◆ Smut, lowkey slow burn, anakin being hot but what’s new, dirty talk, authority kink, virginity kink, bye

WORDS ◆ 7.8k and i regret nothing

NOTE ◆ I wrote this during heartbreak so this is me totally projecting

»»————-　✼　————-««

THERE WAS SOMETHING INCREASINGLY PLEASANT ABOUT BEING ON NABOO. You were quick to realize that the planet’s beauty that was always spoken about was not just a thing of rumors, and that, in fact, the place was even more beautiful than you could possibly imagine. The way that every tree hung perfectly, with it’s branches begging to be touched by a passerby, and how every single animal that grazed along it’s pastures had a sense of calm that you had never felt in all your years of living in the galaxy.

The villa along the large lake a few miles away from the main city was a thing of dreamlike structures. It’s columns held intricate pieces of wood and stone and the balconies that overlooked both water and flower fields were more welcoming than you could ever imagine. A own little touch of paradise, and you would be staying here for only a week.

The war, which you had been flung into only a few years into your training, was going on longer than anyone anticipated. The separatists were not letting up on their preposition to become a sovereign state, and the deaths of thousands mass produced clones has become a daily thing. It took a great toll on everyone involved, and more specifically the Padawan’s like yourself that were not at all prepared for this type of environment for your training. When you were just a youngling, all you expected was to go on lots of missions with your Master that would be Jedi affairs, not Republic ones. In a way, you felt as if you were being robbed of something that you weren’t quite sure how to pinpoint, an innocence in a way.

This was the Council’s way of trying to make it up to you. You knew that it wasn’t supposed to actually be a vacation, no, you were meant to keep up with your training, just in a different environment that would make you more akin with the Force. And that place was Naboo, tranquility in the form of a planet.

“I can feel your apprehension,” Your Master told you, walking in front of you up the stone stairs that came up to the front door of the place you would be staying in with him. Behind you was a ship, no one inside to accompany the two of you. To do this right, as the Council said, you were not to be distracted by anyone else, no clones, no droids, no nothing.

If only they knew that it didn’t matter if there was no one other than your Master to engage with, because Anakin Skywalker, alone, was able to distract you for hours on end if you really put your mind to it. Anakin and you were very similar in age, early adult years, and yet he had the role of Master and you were still just a Padawan. You knew that it was because of his efforts during the Battle of Geonosis at the very beginning of the war, and that alone was enough to grant him the title of Jedi Knight, but it still was awkward at points when he talked down on you, because really, he had only two years more experience in life than you did.

You did what you were told. You always did. As a youngling you had a temper, a rebellious streak that for a time was almost concerning for the Council and the Master’s that taught you. And yet, here you were, a respectful young Jedi. Over the years you have grown, probably more than any other youngling that the Order has ever seen. It was like overnight somehow you turned from a child to a young woman, and you were adamant about completing your studies so that you could become a Jedi Knight. Those plans, however, got incredibly tainted with the war, and then with the introduction of you and your Master. It was a rather uncalled for pairing. You were hoping for someone like Master Yoda to take you as his Padawan or even for master Plo Koon, yet it was wildly noted that you were picked by Anakin Skywalker yourself. A rather odd thing and he still hasn’t told you completely why.

Anakin was not entirely a man of secrets. You could ask him things about almost anything and he would tell you. The only thing that he kept guarded in the deepest parts of his mind was things of his past, and his reasoning behind making such vast decisions like taking on a Padawan during a large civil war. But you and Anakin still managed to be very close, the Force growing strong between both of you as if it too agreed in your compatibility.

You shook your head, immediately refuting his accusations. “No, it’s not apprehension,” you told him, eyes coming up to meet the back of his head since he wasn’t looking at you. “Just concern, that’s all.”

“That’s all?” Your Master questioned. The second that his foot came up to the top of the stairs, his figure turned around and faced you, those bold, blue eyes of his racing to meet your own. “If you have any doubts about anything, tell me, I am your Master after all.”

That’s exactly that problem, you thought to yourself, making sure that your mental shields were up to guard it. That was the last thing that you needed, for him to know the things that you wished to push down into the darkest depths of your mind. That was the Jedi way, after all, keep all those emotions that were considered dangerous and a path to the dark side in a little cage in your mind and throw away the key. The thought of simply just being with him here alone made your brain almost electrify yourself, thinking about all the possibilities of slipping up and revealing all your emotions towards your Master directly to him. It was something to fear, and yet you were not allowed to fear.

You offered him the fakest smile that you could muster, saying, “Yes, Master, I’m alright. Let’s just get inside, it’s almost dark.” The setting sun was directly to your back, illuminating him in front of you like he was something to be marvelled at. And to your defense, Anakin Skywalker was definitely something to be marvelled at. His chiseled cheeks only looked more distinguished in the golden light, along with his dark brown hair that seemed to catch it just right. It made you feel weak in the knees, these thoughts of him, and you knew it was wrong to think of him in such ways - but you just couldn’t stop. Every time you tried to vilify him in your mind, another reason why you should love popped right back up in its place. It was a deadly cycle that you have shamelessly fallen victim to, and there was nothing that you could do to stop it or further this attraction. It was forbidden.

The moment that you stepped into the building, a sigh left your lips, eyes taking in all your surroundings. It was marvellous. There were marbled stone floors that were covered in rugs in some places, plush couches in the middle of the room, and off to the side were the counters of the kitchen, all looking as if no one had ever stepped foot in here. Suddenly you felt out of place here, like you weren’t good enough to live in such a lavish way. After all, your temple rooms were nothing compared to this. They were bland, sandy and brown colors everywhere. Only a dresser with a small mirror and a bed were in it. Yet here, there were different hues of reds, greens, and blues, tables and chairs and fancy lamps, and plants that added almost another dimension to the already breathtaking house.

“It’s - It’s,” You started, not able to find the correct words for what you were trying to say.

Luckily, Anakin finished your sentence, “Breathtaking. It’s breathtaking.”

You turned to look back at him, taking in his features for just a moment more.

Breathtaking, you thought to yourself. Yes, everything here is just breathtaking.

-

The soft silks of your bed sheets rolled between your fingers, tempting you to lay into bed and never get back up. How on Earth were you supposed to keep training when you were living like this? You could imagine yourself, not as a Jedi but as a normal person, eating wild berries as you sat on your bed near the balcony, looking towards the horizon and not having one single worry in that head of yours. It was tantalizing, the perfect picture in your mind of what you wished to be.

“You think too loud.”

You spun around to only be met with your Master, who was leaning against your doorframe effortlessly. A heat rose up to your cheeks, realizing that you hadn’t been taking the proper precautions of keeping those thoughts only to yourself. They were just little flings of ideas, nothing too brash that could get you into any trouble. “Sorry, Master, I shouldn’t have been thinking of slacking off when we have work to do in the coming days.”

A chuckle escaped his lips from deep within his chest. “It’s okay, Y/N, really, if I am being honest, I was thinking the same not too long ago.”

That was shocking news to you. You always thought that Anakin always wanted to be on the run, as if this trip that he had to take with you was annoying to him because he had to take time away from the front lines of the war. But it also made sense, even victorious war generals get tired sooner or later. Perhaps you didn’t know him as much as you thought that you did. This trip wasn’t just for you, it was for the both of you. It was good to go back to basics, remember the first feelings of the force and go from there.

“And here I was thinking that you didn’t want to be here,” You mused.

Your Master laughed at your jest. “No, quite the opposite. It’ll be nice to take a step back from life for a little bit and get some much needed rest.”

“I didn’t know that General Skywalker knew what rest meant,” You continued on your playful banter.

“I don’t,” He chuckled. “Maybe you can teach me?”

Now that sends you through a loop. You knew that he was probably just playing around with you, since you were teasing him a little bit. But that sentence was enough for that place in your mind to unlock all the fantasies you had in your head about him, the ones that you only dared touch when you knew you were alone and it was the dead of night so no was there to read them. You held yourself back from becoming flustered, knowing the moment you showed any signs of it that he would know that something was up. Instead you simply nodded your head, taking your eyes off of him to the balcony that was open to your room, seeing the way that the moonlight illuminated the waves of the water. “Perhaps after training tomorrow, we could go by the water?” You asked him.

“Sure thing,” Anakin said, turning on his heel and making his way out of your room. You took a sigh of relief at his absence, not because you wanted him gone, but because seeing him in such a leisurely setting was starting to get to your head. That dizzy feeling that got to your head every time you looked at him for too long started to subside, and you were left with only your thoughts as you put away some robes you packed for the stay.

The moment that your head hit the soft, plush pillow of your large bed, you were completely enveloped by sleep. In your dreams you only saw you and Anakin, happy and smiling in the gracious flower fields of Naboo, preparing meals together half dressed in the kitchen, and falling asleep in each other's arms. It was so real and lifelike that when you woke up in the morning, you felt as if you had awoken from an alternate universe.

-

Anakin didn’t know what he was doing.

Of course he was excited to be able to take a break from the long, withheld war between the Republic and the Separatists, but at the same time he knew that being alone with you was going to be a struggle for him. Anakin loved to train you, he really did. You were a loyal Padawan to the Order and was eager to learn the ways of the Force by his instruction. He knew the moment that he saw you that he wanted to train you. But he hadn’t prepared for him to become so emotionally attached to you, and it was tearing the young Jedi apart.

It was incredibly taboo of him to gain these feelings for two reasons. One: the Jedi were forbidden from attachment. And although Anakin hadn’t been known for following all the rules of the Jedi, he knew that attachment could possibly lead to dark places if he wasn’t careful. Two: you were his Padawan. It may have been different if you were within the same ranks as him, but you were not. He was supposed to be your teacher, and there was no way that he would take advantage of his position of power over you if you were not willing.

He, too, was having doubts about this vacation. Anakin almost asked his First in Command, Rex, if he would accompany the two Jedi for the week, but there was too much going on for the clone to take time off. So it was just you and him, alone in this house on this beautiful planet. Anakin was uneasy up until the moment he walked in your room last night when for a half a second he could sense your aura from the Force, and it was also uneasy about being with him alone. It was strange, since you were clearly hiding these thoughts from him with your mental shields whenever you were around him. But the moment he left you alone, those shields came down.

“Don’t think about keeping yourself up, the Force will do that on it’s own as long as you keep the connection with it. Focus on the rocks,” Anakin told you, walking around you in circles as you were in a handstand, mentally bringing up some rocks off the ground and stacking them off to your side. This was generally a lesson that a youngling would be given, though it was a good mental exercise. And in Anakin’s opinion: it was way better than meditating. “Feel it flow through you, allow it to take you over and become one with it.” These were the same things that Master Obi-Wan had taught him.

It was a bright, sunny day. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky as the time reached a little bit past noon. Training outside in the fields of Naboo were easier than doing so at the Jedi Temple, considering there was more nature that was akin to all aspects of the force. And the sun felt good on both of your skin, smelling the natural air that had a fluorescent scent to it rather than the smog and industrial life of Coruscant.

Your muscles were beginning to strain from underneath you as your head tilted to the side, watching all the rocks fall into place to your left. Even though the Force provided much needed relief on your arms, they were beginning to let out. There was one more rock for you to move and it was the smallest one, a tiny little pebble that needed to go on the top. It was such a small mass, yet with all of this mental and physical strain, it felt like a boulder to move across the air slowly with your mind. All you wanted was for Master Skywalker to feel proud of you. You wanted to see that smile on his face as you lifted that last pebble up and was allowed to finish your studies for the day.

The more you concentrated, the more you could feel the Force flow right through you. It could be felt in the tingling of your palms, sending vibrations towards the center of your chest while your blood flowed. Almost more importantly, you could feel Anakin’s eyes on you, waiting patiently for you to make your next move. Slowly, but surely, the little pebble made its way towards the top of the stacked rocks. Your eyes widened with joy, but immediately squinted back up when it shook a tiny bit. The moment that the bottom of it hit the top, you released your much concentrated attachment with the Force, and allowed yourself to fall seamlessly to the ground. The blood rushed back to your head, making your eyes darken to adjust. Once you could see again, you saw Anakin standing over you, that grin you had looked forward to seeing on his face.

“Not bad, Padawan,” He said in an appealing tone, extending a hand to help you up to your feet. You were quick to take it, ignoring the way that your heart soared as your skin touched against his skin. “We should go back to the house.” He almost turned and began walking away, but you scrunch your nose up and kept his hand in a tight grip, prompting him to look right back at you with a confused look. “What’s up?”

“You promised we could go to the water afterwards,” You told him, hoping that you were jogging his memory from last night.

But you didn’t need to jog Anakin’s memory, because he had been thinking about it ever since you asked. Thinking about having to watch you submerge under the water and come back up, drops of clear blue dripping down your exposed shoulders, and keeping himself from doing something that he would most likely regret when you would reject him, scolding him for his thinking. He thought about the way he wanted to put his hands on your hips and pull you as close as you possibly could get to him, taking the opportunity to pepper kisses along your smooth skin. It killed him to think that you probably didn’t think the same way about him, it was going to goddamn tear him apart.

Nevertheless, he wasn’t going to go back on his promise to you. It was the least he could do after thinking such sinful things about you. Anakin’s gave you a nod and walked beside you on the short trail to the large lake. You could hear the water ripple towards the small shoreline, coming up and then receding back again in a timely fashion. You kicked off your shoes, deciding that your tank top and pants were okay to get wet, especially since you wouldn’t take the risk of undressing in front of Anakin. As much as the thought was tempting, you knew better than to test your luck. Anakin watched with intensity as you got into the water, going deep enough to where only the tops of your shoulders and up were exposed. Maker, he cursed himself, did you have to look so good barely doing anything?

You cocked your head to the side. “Well . . . are you going to get in or just stare at me?” You asked, immediately submerging yourself under the water to ignore what he had to say about your teasing. Your heart thumped profusely as you sat there under the water holding your breath. Anakin had been looking at you.

He mentally cursed himself once again, taking his shoes off and following you into the water. It did feel good, the water having an almost calming effect over him as he walked deeper in the lake. He looked around him, taking in the appearance of all the beautiful trees that lined up, beautiful fruit hanging off of the branches. Little flowers were along the bay, facing right towards him as if they were welcoming him to their home.

The sun spilled harsh rays along his skin, causing Anakin to dip his head down fully into the water. Once he came back up for air, his eyes shifted over to you, both of you holding a type of eye contact that you swore almost knocked your breath out. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced before, like he was looking right into your soul and you to his, a sense of desire burning a pit in your stomach. Feeling exposed, you shifted your gaze to the fish swimming in the water near you. You could still feel his eyes on you, in them holding truths that he wished to tell you, but being unable to put the words together to explain.

-

“There’s something that you’re not telling me.”

Your eyes opened at your Master’s voice and looked directly at him. You had been meditating on your bed before sleeping, knowing that you hadn’t gotten the necessary amount of meditating that you needed for the day. At the temple they usually kept you on some kind of schedule, though here with Anakin rules were a little - no, more loose than normal.

Anakin once again stood in your doorframe, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed in, like he didn’t feel like he had a place stepping into your bedroom. You searched his face to gauge a feeling for what he was talking about, looking for hints of mischief or anger. There was nothing, his face was completely blank, almost too blank like he was hiding something from you.

You knew you had nothing to hide - or at least nothing that he should know about. “I don’t know what you mean, Master,” You replied, uncrossing your legs from their criss cross position and hugging them close to your chest. “Have I done something wrong?”

That answer seemed to not satisfy him, because for a moment something flickered in his eyes. “No, nothing like that,” He told you, furrowing his brows together and taking a tentative step closer into your room. “It’s just, I get this feeling when I’m around you. Your force signature . . . like something is just gnawing at you and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Oh, you were screwed. Alarms blared in your mind, thinking about how you had let your thoughts run too much during this trip. All the worst outcomes of this came to your mind, like how he would laugh at your growing feelings towards him, how much you wanted him almost shamelessly. It made your stomach twist into several knots, wanting to bury yourself into a hole and never ever come out of it again.

Your face and the Force must’ve told it all, because he spoke again, saying, “There. Right there. I can feel it, Y/N. Just talk to me. What is going on?” Your bottom lip quivered, knowing that there was no way you were getting out of this. This was it. The day you had been dreading and hoping didn’t come. Everything was about to come crash down onto your life.

“I can’t,” You said in a low voice, shifting your weight to sit at the edge of the bed, putting your head into your hands and staring down at the plush carpet in an attempt to get away from his stare. Almost as if you thought if you looked away long enough, he would suddenly disappear.

“What do you mean ‘you can’t’? You’re my Padawan, you can tell me anything.”

Padawan. The title felt foreign in your mind now. It was something that you knew you couldn’t hold onto for much longer once the truth was out. You would be stripped of it and be a Jedi no more. The council would hear of your feelings and immediately expel you. Padawan. Padawan. Padawan. The more the word bounced around in your mind the more you felt tears welling up into your eyes.

And you didn’t mean to sound so harsh when you said it, but your hands were balling up into fists as you said, “That’s what’s wrong!” Your head tilted up, seeing that Anakin had walked closer to you, towering over your frame. His face showed confusion, not understanding what you were alluding to. He didn’t even have to say it, but his expression was saying explain.

How could you even begin?

You were wordless.

“Please . .  . I just want to help you,” Anakin told you, his hand coming to grab onto your forearm. The touch felt like hot coals on your body, scorching your soul. “I don’t like seeing you like this.” Which you knew translated to I don’t like not knowing how to fix it.

“It’s you,” You confessed. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

For a moment, Anakin thought that he had stepped into some parallel universe. Or that this was some sort of prank let on by someone else. There was no way that this was happening, you were confessing. You had been thinking about him, probably as much as he was thinking about you. It felt as if the world had turned on its axis and was spinning the opposite direction.

You, on the other hand, was waiting for the words that never came. You expected him to immediately tell you that he was going to report you to the Council. And yet, he stood there, almost looking as dumbfounded as you did, maybe even more. This prompted you to stand up, his hand falling down and getting dangerously close to your own.

“I know . . .” You started again, seeing as he wasn’t going to say anything. “I know that it’s wrong, that I shouldn’t be thinking of you in the ways that I am. But I can’t stop, Anakin, you consume me.”

The usage of his name snapped him back to reality and out of his own spinning thoughts, and hearing it come from specifically your lips was not helping his frame of mind. It sounded . . . different coming from your mouth. Like you were saying it like a praise rather than just a passing phrase like most people did. He wanted you to say it over and over again, repeating it like a mantra you were to speak or you would die if you didn’t. His eyes flickered into your own and saw how scared you were of how he would react and how he was definitely not helping to settle your nerves.

In truth, he didn’t know how to handle this situation. After all, this was not a lesson that had been given to him and he was definitely not in the best place to tell you anything, since his emotions were starting to cloud his judgement and all he could think was how he wished to tell you he felt the same way.

You waited for his response, getting impatient and wanting to just get this over with. You were waiting for the words he was supposed to say.

But Anakin didn’t always do the things he was supposed to do.

“You and I both know that forming attachments isn’t allowed,” Anakin said. “And yet I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.”

A visible look of shock washed over your face, mouth opening slightly and eyes widening, heart pounding against your ribcage. His hand reached down and grabbed your own, fingertips softly touching the palm of your hand. This felt like a dream. Were you sure that you weren’t dreaming? No, this was definitely real. Anakin was in front of you for sure, confessing that he was feeling the exact same way.

Anakin tipped his head down to meet your own, his breath fanning along your face, making you shiver. Your breath hitched in your throat, his lips brushing against your own, almost like he was testing you. You could feel the tips of his hair tickling against your forehead, nose against nose. You were so close. The hand on your own was grasping now, pulling your body close to his. And the two of you sat there, lips millimeters close while each of your minds buzzed with the feeling of doing something so daring.

You felt yourself going mad, you couldn’t do it anymore. You couldn’t wait. All of your feelings erupted inside of your throat and suddenly you were kissing him, lips smashing against his own with no care in the world. You didn’t care about the Council, the Code . . . anything. All you cared about was Anakin, wanting as much of him that he was willing to give you.

You had never really kissed anyone before. There was a moment back when you were only ten and you were with another youngling, seeing one of the citizens of Coruscant kissing each other on the street. Interested in what they were doing, you and your friend kissed, thinking that it was weird and dismissing it. That had been your first kiss, a rather embarrassing one, but it was nothing compared to the way Anakin kissed you. He kissed you like there was a purpose to every single move of his muscles. He kissed you like you were forbidden fruit and he was starving.

His other hand came up to the back of your neck, tangling in your hair and keeping your face close to his. For just a moment his tongue slipped into your mouth and you made a small sound, butterflies swarming in your stomach. You tried to mimic what he was doing, going with your instincts and grasping onto his bicep, feeling the taut muscles under your touch.

Everything about yours and his actions were needy and hungry, wanting each other with such need that you had pushed down for so long. All of it seemed to come out of you like crashing waves. The kissing was nice, though after a while you needed more, you were dying for more of him. Please, Anakin, you thought.

What do you want, Padawan? He asked through his thoughts to you, hand coming to caress your face to look down at you. You looked into those big, blue eyes of his that never ceased to awaken something within you.

“You, Anakin, I want you,” You whispered to him, as if someone was going to hear if you talked too loud. “Please.” You thought that you probably sounded like someone desperate, and in a way you were, you had waited for this forever and had convinced yourself that it would never happen. But he thought the exact opposite, he marvelled in the way that you looked at him, wanting to show you how much you truly meant to him. The attraction and lust was there, intermingled with something more that neither of you dared to acknowledge.

He didn’t hesitate to give you what you wanted, slowly inching you towards the bed and helping you rest on your back, the silk sheets against the back of your arms and neck. Anakin was quick to follow, climbing on top of you and connecting his lips onto the skin right below your jaw. His lips were soft like snowflakes falling onto your skin, creating a masterpiece on your skin like you were his canvas. It all felt too good, the Force heightening the sensations to an almost unbearable amount. It sent shockwaves to your core, igniting a feeling you often only felt during the late hours of the night.

Seeing how well your body responded to him, well, almost drove Anakin crazy. You were so willing, so ready for him that his mind became cloudy, the only thing he could make out was his thoughts of you. Nothing about the war, the Council, the fact that he was your Master . . . It all blew away with the wind. His lips trailed down from your jaw to your neck, paying extra attention to the places that made you breath out more than the others. Your hands found their respective place in his hair, feeling the softness of the dirty blonde curls between your fingers.

Your clothes suddenly felt foreign on your body, you wanted them off, you wanted his off so that you could see all of him. He seemed to hear your thoughts, humming against your skin and pulling away, pressing a soft, firm kiss to your lips and helping you get out of them, and in turn you helped him get out of his.

Anakin’s body was like nothing you imagined. He was breathtaking. You knew that he had a nice body because of all the training and countless amounts of physical strain he has been through, but looking at those abs that he had, along with the sun kissed skin he had, you felt your throat close up, feeling inferior to what he looked like. “You’re beautiful, Y/N,” He spoke to your thoughts. “Don’t ever think that you’re not.” And you believed him.

His hands came to your hips, fingers toying with the fabric of your underwear that was the only thing blocking him from seeing you fully. His eyes scanned you, taking in the sheer and utter beauty before him. He wanted to kiss, lick, and nip on every single inch of skin on you. He wanted to learn each and every single curve, hear every story behind your scars, and know just what touches would have you squirming from underneath him.

No one has seen you this exposed before. You didn’t know whether or not to feel embarrassed, because he seemed to know what he was doing. It was not that you had taken the Jedi code to heart, but you simply hadn’t known anyone that you found enough to take that last piece of innocence from you - no one except Master Skywalker. And only now did you actually realize what was going to happen.

Your whole body felt hot, needing to feel the release that was beginning to build up from all of his kisses and your imagination running its course. “Anakin,” You breathed out, not knowing how to form into words what you wanted from him. Of course he knew, he could feel your force signature morph into something almost sinful, something he was sure he was emitting himself. After all, neither of you were hiding anything anymore. He knew exactly what he was going to do to you so that he could hear the plethora of moans that he knew you had just for him, wanting to hear his name come off of your lips in pleasure.

His head ducked down and kissed your hipbone, fingers hooking under your underwear and slowly sliding them off. Your eyes stayed on his actions, mouth forming into an ‘O’ when you realized what he was going to do. He was going to use his mouth on you. These were only things that you thought in your deepest, darkest fantasies, like he had reached into those parts of your mind and did exactly what you wanted.

As if Anakin was just tempting you, he pressed another slow kiss to the inside of your thigh and then did the same thing to the other side. Your hips lifted up only slightly, showing him that you couldn’t wait much longer. A chuckle left him, eyes reaching your own and saying, “Eager?” You weren’t even ashamed when you shook your head, keeping eye contact with him as he licked a bold stripe right up your slit. It felt as if an earthquake hit your body, your back arching and hands gripping onto his hair.

He hummed against you, liking the way that you responded to his actions. If he had it his way, he would sit here with you like this for hours on end, bringing you up to that high place again and again until you were a wrecked mess before him. It made him simply go crazy to think that he was the first person to ever do this to you, that he would be the first of anyone to hear those moans and profanities that slipped from your cherry kissed lips. Anakin’s own thoughts made him groan out, a noise that you played on repeat in your mind as your eyes screwed closed.

Your thighs quivered beside his face, attempting to squeeze shut so that you could keep him there forever. But his hands came and held them in place, fingers digging into your muscles that gave in to his touch like it was nothing. You were putty in his hands, the only movement you had was your hands pulling on his hair and the arch of your back while he lapped his tongue against you with no mercy.

“Stay still,” He told you, pulling away for a moment to lick what was left of you on his lips. You nodded, chest heaving and heart sinking at the loss of contact. But Anakin didn’t leave for long, his mouth on your clit accompanied with one of his fingers circling your entrance. You nearly lost it when he dipped his middle finger in experimentally, gauging your reaction. You could feel the coil in your stomach start to tighten, which only amplified once his finger pushed into you all the way.

You didn’t even attempt to try and censor the obscenities that came out of your mouth, mixed in rhyme with his name. Anakin. Anakin. Anakin. It was the only word that felt real in your mind.

You waited for that final jump towards a euphoric end, but it never came. Instead Anakin pulled away from you and his fingers left, making you feel uneasily empty. Opening your eyes, you saw that he was pulling down his boxers, taking his cock into his hands and watching as you almost became slack jawed - realizing what was about to happen. A moment of worry nestled its way into your mind, making your heart thump. If anyone was to find out, you would surely not be accepted back into the Order. You would never be able to have Anakin again. Jedi were not to fear, and yet here you were, fearing that you would lose the one person that you cared about - the only one you knew cared about you.

It was your moment to choose. You knew that if you backed out, at least you would be able to work under him still and not have his affections. It would be better than never seeing him again. And yet, you couldn’t see your life without him, all of him. Not just the side that was your Master.

Anakin sensed your worry, taking your chin in his hands so that you looked up at him. “Are you sure?” He asked you, not wanting to move forward before you were ready. And God, were you ready.

And with all the courage that you mustered up, you gave him a small smile and said, “Yes.” You felt like you were flinging yourself off of some sort of cliff, or even more sinfully feeling like you were Persephone, cutting up her own slice of pomegranate and looking right into Hades eyes as she tasted the fruit, securing your fate that you would stay with him. You would stay with Anakin, even if it was only for this night.

He nestled between your legs and you could feel his tip press against your entrance. Air was caught in your lungs, sitting up on your elbows so that you could see as he eased himself into you. A sting of pain and a subtle feeling of pleasure was seated inside of you, watching as his cock be enveloped by you inch by inch. Anakin hissed at the feeling, you were so goddamn tight and he never wanted to stop from being inside of you. Once all of him was inside, he leaned over so his head was in the crook of your neck, pressing a kiss to your searing skin as you adjusted to him bottoming out.

You urged him to continue, thinking that the discomfort would soon go away with time. And you were eager to get all of him that you could, temptation coming forward instead of reason. He pulled out all the way then eased himself back in, continuing the slower pace and watching your reaction before him, your hands reaching to his back and finding their place there. One of his hands kept your legs open, taking you by your thigh and hoisting it up.

It took all that he could muster to not just ram into you, the want starting to cloud his judgment. The Force felt as if it was pushing both you and him towards each other, the connection almost driving each of you crazy. “You feel . . .” He started. “You feel so good.” That alone, along with the raspiness in his voice, made a fire erupt in your stomach. You sighed in response, eyes fluttering closed once again.

And then, much to his surprise, you whispered, “Go faster, Anakin.” You needed him so bad you felt like you were going to explode, lust enveloping the both of you and intertwining with your Force energies.

He didn’t need to be told twice, and he gripped onto the leg he lifted up, beginning a slightly faster rhythm that had you arching your neck and eyes rolling to the back of your head. Anakin was so big, stretching you out in just the right way that had you almost keeling over if he hadn’t had such a tight grip on you. Your one leg wrapped along his waist, heel digging into his back while his pace increased.

This angle he had you in made you yelp and moan shamelessly, not caring if people all the way in the capital could hear you as you yelled his name like a prayer. His pace finally became a fast rhythm and you found comfort in being to finally feel nothing but pleasure with every deep stroke he made.

In this place, it was only you and him. Like you were in your own little place of paradise where you could explore each other in every way. There was nothing that could take this moment from you or him, this moment would forever be engraved in your mind for many years to come, remembering the way that he moaned out your name and the way he looked when you opened your eyes to peek at his face. His brows were furrowed, sweat beading on his forehead and mouth spilled open saying nothing but your name.

He made you feel so good, so euphoric that the fire grew and grew, becoming a wildfire raging inside of you. And you looked so heavenly to him, the way that your eyes only looked at him, breasts bouncing with every harsh thrust he gave you. You took him so well, like you were made for only him. His hips brushed against your own, hand coming up to caress your cheek, forcing you to look at him in the eyes.

You weren’t going to last much longer. Not with the way that he was pounding into you with sheer force you didn’t know was possible until now. But you didn’t want this to end, you never wanted this to end in fear that things would go back to the way they were before. You would have to try and forget that this ever happened. It wasn’t something you wanted to do and didn’t even know if you had the strength to do it. After this moment both of you would be connected.

You made a guttural noise, teetering over the edge of what felt like a wave of bliss. This was it, there was no way that you could keep yourself from it now. It only took a singular deep stroke of his cock to send you right over the edge, your back arching and body spasming, his name rolling off of your tongue in the most sinful way you have ever said it before. Your hands gripped for any part of him that you could reach, groping his muscles to keep him close to you. He didn’t stop moving inside of you, making you ride it out even harder as he chased his own high.

You were so sensitive as he fucked into you, giving you no mercy. He groaned as you came, watching the way that your eyes screwed shut and mouth opening in as you sucked in harsh breaths. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you and you knew that he was close, wondering if he was going to cum inside of you or pull out before he did. He did the latter, taking one more deep stroke before pulling out. Anakin was about to start stroking himself with his hand but you rushed with your own to meet him there, using your own and pumping a few times.

A string of profanities came from his lips as he came, white hot liquid spurting onto your stomach, dripping like beads coating your skin. He had no shame as he shuddered, muscles flexing with every passing second. He drank in your body, seeing how wet you were for him, how soft your hand was on his cock, how much he longed to see you like this more times before you and him left back for the war. And soon enough he was finished, the only thing between both of you was both of your panting breaths.

Anakin moved to grab something on the floor, realizing that it was the shirt he had on before and moving to wipe your stomach off, dropping it to the floor and coming to lay down next to you. You winced for a moment as you moved to look at him, his own eyes staring at the ceiling. You were scared of what was to come next, if there was anything that was supposed to come next. You knew that the two of you couldn’t be together, at least openly, though it was even risky to continue doing something like this in private.

“Anakin,” You called out to him, forcing him to look at you. “What will happen next?”

“I don’t know, Y/N, I don’t know,” He responded. All he knew was that he wanted you, again and again. In the domestic moments and in the explicit ones like before. You were so tantalizing, and he realized now that because he had tasted the forbidden fruit that was you, he would never be able to stop. There was simply no way that he would be able to conceal his want for you from you anymore.

You waited for his answer, knowing that it would probably be one you didn’t want to hear. But for the second time this evening, Anakin surprised you again.

He leaned over and kissed you.

And you knew his answer from that.

[snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales]

Blue Moon - Part 1

A/N: See masterlist for prompts used. (And the list of amazing people who have helped me with this.)

I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.

Warnings: See Masterlist

Word count: 2,746

Xxx

“So what’s it like living with a Hale?” Stiles asked, turning away from your locker after you shut it. Both of you fell into step with Scott as you made your way to your next class. 

You must have grimaced or made some face with a slight slant of your eyebrows only a Stilinski could read, because Stiles let out a snort. “That bad?”

You shrugged, sighing. “I mean, it’s not like I expected it to be a walk in the park, it is Derek Hale after all.” Scott chuckled with a gentle shake of his head, making you smile before you continued. “But I didn’t expect it to be this…. easy….. either.”

“Easy?” Scott questioned, making the same face you must have initially as Stiles let out another snort of laughter.

“Yeah, I mean, the first few days were awkward. If we weren’t training we weren’t doing anything. The man is silent, had no TV, or any of that-”

“Wait, ‘had’?” Stiles held out his hand, effectively cutting off your sentence and your steps, your shoes screeching on the floor at the sudden stop. 

“Yes, had. He now has a TV, streaming services- yes, Stiles, services as in plural, if you keep your eyebrows that high they may stick that way, and it’s not the best look for you…”

“So at least there is something to fill the silence at least.” Scott resumed walking, you followed a few steps behind, Stiles lagging, jaw still dropped in shock. 

“Well, yeah,” you agreed with Scott, and this time you felt your eyebrows making the face.

“But….?” Scott’s prodding was gentle, but his face held a smirk.

“But somewhere along the way we went from off handed comments during a news broadcast, or some show we were watching, to actually pausing it to have some discussion, or referencing some situation later and asking if the other had had something similar happen, or just opening up about random experiences and stuff. It’s…”

“Weird?” This time Stiles prodded, earning a glare and gentle whack on the arm from Scott.

“Well, maybe it’s because you’re…. new.” Scott opted for a more discrete word for ‘werewolf’ in the crowded hallways. “He may feel like opening up more because of the pack mentality and all.”

“No, it’s not because she’s…. new.” Stiles raised one eyebrow on the word as he addressed Scott, earning a sigh and eye roll from the young Beta. “The man is a brooding wall of leather and growls.” You chuckled at the description, making Stiles grin. “I think we finally found our miracle cure for our Sourwolf!”

“Woah, woah, woah, hold up.” You held up your hands as if to physically stop their words. “What?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. We know you two like each other. It’s so obvious.” Stiles immediately closed his mouth, his lips a tight line, eyes wide and eyebrows in his hairline in his signature “I was not supposed to say that” face.

“What?” you deadpanned to your friend. 

The bell rang, and Scott, wide eyed and smiling too broadly, gave Stiles a shove on the shoulder in the opposite direction of your next class as Stiles muttered, “Oh, look. The bell.” They both began to walk quickly the opposite way. 

“Guys!” you yelled. “This is not over! But I am not responsible for you guys missing another class, what does that make, like fifteen already this semester?”

Your two friends stilled and turned on their heels, ushering past you quickly, avoiding your glare, Stiles looking at Scott and muttering, “See, Scott? I told you our class with Miss Blake was this way.”

“Ugh,” you mumbled under your breath. The sour expression stayed on your face even after you sat at your desk in the back of the class.

Chuckling, Stiles chanced a glance your way from beside you, hoping to change the subject from his ultimate fail in the hallway. “You still don’t like her?”

“I still don’t like her.” You overlapped his last few words, matching his gentle nod with one of your own as you stared straight ahead at the teacher’s still vacant desk. 

“What is it about her you don’t like?”

“I just have a really bad feeling whenever I see her. Something just isn’t right.”

Scott chuckled, opening his book to the proper page. “You’re just mad that she gives you a little bit of a harder time.”

“You mean she gives me ‘more attention’?” you asked, your words rising to a ridiculous octave as they repeated Jennifer’s words she had used when she assigned you some extra credit to help raise your grade so you could stay on the lacrosse team. Your friends chuckled at your words. “I’m sorry, not everyone can be amazing at everything, being a wer-” you stopped yourself, clearing your throat before continuing- “new-” you looked at Scott pointedly, earning you a glare and Stiles’ laughter on your other side- “doesn’t allow for a whole lot of extra studying time.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. I know you feel that way now, but it will pass,” Scott said with a smile as Miss Blake walked in, setting things on her desk, and he chuckled as you glared at her. “This is all ephemeral.”

You looked at Stiles, your face blank, voice a deadpan. “You ever buy him a word of the day subscription thing again, and I will rip your throat out.” You flickered your yellow eyes at him discreetly. “With my teeth.”

“With your teeth,” Stiles mumbled, overlapping your words, both of you nodding in agreement again. “I asked what it’s like living with a Hale, and now I got my answer.” He looked at you, shaking his head mockingly. “You’re becoming one of them. It’s contagious. We’ll call it ‘Sourwolf Syndrome’.”

Xxx

Due to your parents’ professions taking them all over the place constantly, like Allison, you were actually a year older than your friends, having to repeat a year a few grades back. But you wouldn’t change it for anything, because that’s how you met your best friends. 

It helped that your parents were away on business most of the time, so no one questioned your staying at Derek’s loft for so long. You stopped by every few days to get the mail and check on the plants around the house, packing some new clothes if needed, Derek sitting outside in his car the first few times, but lately he had taken to coming in and helping you do the few things you had to do.

You told yourself it was just because of the increased threat that he wanted to be closer to his newest Beta. He didn’t have too many of those these days, you thought bitterly, smirking to yourself. You stared blankly as you rinsed out your coffee cup in the sink, and a wave of sadness washed over you as you thought of Erica, her absence still fresh and raw. The two of you had never really been close; just acquaintances at school, then pack members briefly, before she was gone. 

Boyd had really withdrawn himself after that, and you didn’t blame him. You knew he probably felt how you did times ten. When Cora had been here briefly she mentioned losing a pack member was like losing a limb, and she hadn’t been wrong. 

Then Derek had kicked both Cora and Isaac out of the loft, claiming it wasn’t safe with the Alpha Pack around. Isaac was staying with Scott, but you didn’t know where Cora had disappeared to. Peter was a wild card, so you didn’t even try to factor him in, and Scott outright refused to be a member of Derek’s pack. He was an Alpha with Beta eyes, and an enigma for another time.

The point was, Derek was running low in the Beta department lately.

The only reason Derek had you staying at the loft and followed you around the house when you had to go was because you were the newest, or so he said. Deep down you knew he just didn’t want to be responsible if something happened to you. He wanted to control the situation as much as possible which, you guessed, you were kind of glad, being new to this whole werewolf thing, and admittedly not wanting to stay home alone again, human or werewolf.

At least at the loft, even in the times before Derek brought home the TV and stuff, the silence had been comfortable. You’d never admit it to anyone, but just being in the presence of another living, breathing being, even one as brooding and somewhat annoying as Derek Hale, was nice. 

And you sure as hell weren’t going to think about how he had helped you with your homework sometimes, especially with that English extra credit. He had a side he didn’t share often, and you were glad you got to see it. It was like a rare spotting of a mythological creature. 

You smiled to yourself, watching the water in the cup filling clear now, the mug long clean, and you let your feelings wash away down the drain with the water as you turned it off. 

Setting the mug in the sink, you took a deep breath, letting the feelings whirling around you fully roll off your back, rolling your shoulders back as they did.

Stepping into the doorway to the living room you saw him delicately watering some houseplant your mom babied. The first few times he had just poured water at its base, and you had to stop him, showing him how it had to be done, otherwise he’d over water it. And since then, though he had said initially that it was stupid under his breath, he took meticulous care to check if it even needed watering, and then watered it properly, like you showed him, even bringing books home to the loft about how to care for the various types of plants your mom had around the house. You found it endearing. 

Smiling softly, you gently shook your head. One second you were bitter towards him, the next finding little things that made him amazing. “I’m going to go grab some clothes, my stuff got torn to hell last week when we dealt with what’s his face,” you said offhandedly, starting up the stairs. So many baddies came through this town, you got them all confused. 

Derek chuckled. “Okay. You know you can always borrow some of my clothes if you need to.”

You stopped midstep on the staircase, each foot on a different step, and your grip on the bannister tightened, your knuckles turning white. 

This. 

This is why you had such conflicting emotions about this man. Wolf. Wolfman.

“Are you sure?” You kept your voice even, smiling softly. 

He shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, makes more sense then driving all the way over here.” His voice tried to be neutral, but it was evident he was trying to cover up something he had let slip before really thinking about it.

“Thanks. I’ll remember that next time.” You nodded once to each other before you took two steps calmly and then practically ran up the rest of them to your room. 

Holding a hand to your chest, taking deep breaths to try and stabilize your heartbeat, you slumped against the door after you closed it, sighing. 

You tried not to over analyze what he said, but failed. 

You knew he probably was making some underhanded comment about your abilities, “coming all the way over here”, really he wanted to say, “you suck at being a werewolf, you’re always getting hurt and your clothes destroyed in the process”. 

“You too, wolfman. You too,” you mumbled under your breath as you angrily rifled through one of your drawers, grabbing a few things. 

You chuckled a dark laugh. “But I’m an Alpha, Y/N. I’ll heal faster.” You mocked his deep tone, your search in your drawer turning into an aimless activity, the contents totally mixed up now.

He had never been around whenever you had gotten in a hit or takedown on the baddies you guys had encountered so far in your short time in this world. For some reasons you ended up on opposite sides of the battle fields, and he never said it directly, but you knew he probably thought you sucked. How else does one end up with torn shirts from claw marks and blood being covered by your jacket?

Everyone else had called you a badass, but Derek had yet to compliment or even comment on your fighting ability. But maybe, since he trained you, that spoke more to his ability and not yours, you thought with a smirk. Satisfied with the thought, you grabbed a few clothes out of the drawer before snapping it shut.

After a few steps toward the door, you slowed to a stop, absently staring at the clothes in your hand as your thoughts cleared a little from your earlier anger. 

If it was a reflection on how he thought he was, that was kind of sad. Did he really think so lowly of himself and his abilities? 

You had only been in this world a short time now, but even you had to admit he was a good Alpha. A good wolfm- werewolf. A good man. He was a great person to have at your back in a fight and in mundane things like math, which was also a fight, but that was a thought for another day. He was a good friend to have, period. 

Shaking your head and chuckling gently at yourself, you wondered why your thoughts were everywhere. Glancing at your calendar on the wall, you saw the full moon was coming up soon and rolled your eyes. Of course. 

This would pass. This was ephemeral. You groaned softly as you made your way back down the stairs. Stiles was going to pay.

Derek met your eyes when you made it to the last step, hopping the last few inches to the first floor. He set down the watering can softly.

“Do I really sound like that?” His lips twitched upward slightly.

Screwing up your face in confusion it took you a second to realize he had heard your mutterings as you disorganized the contents of your drawer upstairs. Realization crossed your face before your palm slapped to your forehead, the groan passing your lips before you could stop it. 

Derek laughed, and you looked at him apologetically, to which he motioned with his hand as if waving it away and smiled at the floor where his gaze was focused. “Don’t worry about it. I just always thought my voice was deeper than that.”

He chuckled even more as you swatted his arm, laughing gently yourself. He grabbed your wrist playfully before you could withdraw your hand, and you found yourself pulled closer to him, almost toe to toe and having to crane your neck to look up and meet his eyes that looked down at you with some emotion you couldn’t decipher. 

That comfortable silence hung around you two like a blanket… Until his phone rang. 

As he fished it out of his pocket, you softly cleared your throat and took a small step back, feeling Derek’s gaze on you the whole time. 

“Hello?” His voice was gruff and annoyed, and he was still staring at you. It almost seemed like he was upset at whoever was on the other end for interrupting his moment with you.

But that thought quickly evaporated. 

“Jennifer!” He said it with a broad smile on his face, his voice a total about face from his greeting, and his eyes moving from you to the wall behind you. 

It couldn’t be who you thought. There was no way. That would be too much of a coincidence.

“No, I’m not busy,” he said, turning to the door. 

Grabbing his arm to stop him, he turned to look at you, eyebrows raised in question and, if you weren’t mistaken, slight annoyance.

“What?” he mouthed. 

“Who is that?” you whispered. 

“A friend,” he hissed. 

“Who is it?” you hissed back at him. 

“Your English teacher, Jennifer Blake.” He shrugged out of your grip and out your front door, motioning you to the car.

You seethed as you turned off the lights, grabbing your bag of clothes, and locking the door after you. 

Reason number five hundred and sixty two to hate Miss Jennifer Blake.

Xxx

Tags: @mayahart02, @palaiasaurus64, @shydinosaurcandy, @lucyqueenofthestars, @c-breanne1999, @l4life, @ethereallysimple, @teenwolffan-with-nolife, @bellabadacadabra What’s This?

[writing-in-april]

MGG Characters Masterlist

This is my Masterlist for characters that Matthew Gray Gubler portrays. They are sorted by fluff, angst and smut and from first posted to last. Requests are open for this actor. Upcoming fics are on my main Masterlist. ♥️=Author’s Favorite⚠️=Major trigger warning Main Masterlist

Spencer Reid x Reader

SERIES (2+ chapters):

Chronological series:

The Five Stages of Grief : Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader: Spencer going through the stages of grief after the death of the Reader. (ANGST) ♥️⚠️ —completed—

- Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde: Dom!Spencer: Spencer Reid x Female Reader: Reader meets a mysterious man at the library during book club. ♥️ -in progress- -prompt/request—fic swap— (18+)

Unlinked series:

Spencer Reid & Letters: Group of fics exploring how Spencer and different types of Readers correspond through letters and their relationships.(Fluff- may contain angst & smut in the future) -in progress-

Fluff:

Oneshots:

- Ghost Story : Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader: Spencer tells Reader a ghost story before the power goes out.—request—

- Curl Recovery : Post Prison Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Curly Hair Reader: Spencer’s hair took a beating in prison along with the rest of his being. Reader helps Spencer gain a little back of what he lost. ♥️-Hurt/Comfort-

- 9 o’clock : Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Barista Reader: Reader is an owner of a coffee shop and learns the identity of her late night regular as well as the reason why he likes so much sugar in his coffee.

- Dahlias :Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader: Spencer over analyzing what type of flowers to get for Reader for their first date ♥️-fic swap-

- Happy Coincidences : Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader: You keep running into Spencer before work will you ever get his number? -request-

- The Best Time To Wear a Striped Sweater: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader: Where does Spencer’s striped sweater go after the first episode?—1000 follower celebration—

- My Knight in Shiny Armor: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader: Reader is a fantasy novelist and writes Spencer into their story. ♥️ —fic swap—

- The Melody Lives On: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader: Seeing Spencer after so long apart makes past feelings come to the surface again.

- Cinematic Coincidences: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader: Spencer can’t bring himself to go on another date that’s been set up for him- so he stands his date up. Spence seemingly can’t catch a break and runs into the date he stood up. -30 fics in 30 days-

- Origins: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader (Reader is from a specific geographical location): Reader feels homesick after a particularly gruesome case. Spencer can’t buy a plane ticket, but he can try to help recreate part of home with them. -30 fics in 30 days-

- Question and Answer: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader: Garcia gets Reader to answer some questions about their feelings for Spencer. -30 fics in 30 days-

- Shining Bright Above You: Spencer Reid x Male Reader: Spencer finally gets to go out with his boyfriend after getting out of prison and gets to see the light despite the overwhelming darkness. ♥️-30 fics in 30 days-

- Unwinding in the Vines: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader: Reader can’t get enough of cuddling Spencer. -30 fics in 30 days-

- Manicured: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader: Spencer finally lets Reader paint his nails. -30 fics in 30 days-

Blurbs/Ficlets:

- Lactose Intolerant: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader : Spencer loves dairy despite his allergy, it comes back to bite him and reader takes care of him. ♥️

- Spooked: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader: Reader really wishes Spencer hadn’t picked a haunted house as a team bonding exercise.

- Four More Months & No More Months Spencer Reid x Pregnant Female Reader: Spencer talking to their baby while Reader pretends to sleep.-1000 follower celebration-1250 follower celebration-request-

Angst:

Oneshots:

- Jinxed : Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader : Reader is deeply affected by a case and is comforted by Spencer, at the end of the case Reader gets injured. (ENDS HAPPY)

- Too little Too Late : Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader: Spencer isn’t sure what he’s fighting for anymore and feels abandoned by Y/N and his team. Set post Revelations. Major Trigger Warnings ⚠️ (SAD ENDING)

- A Greek Tragedy: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader (Masc. coded) :Spencer and Reader’s lives now resemble a Greek tragedy after Spencer returns from his kidnapping. ♥️⚠️(Hurt Comfort) (Light at the first of a tunnel sad ending)-prompt/request-

- Off the Table: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader: Based off the Ariana Grande song off the table. Reader wants to ask Spencer- I’d love off the table? ♥️⚠️ —1000 follower celebration— —request-

- Converging Parallels: Spencer Reid x Female Single Mom Reader: Spencer goes to a support group Penelope suggested after the death of Maeve. He quickly connects with a single mom who’s experiences have been similar to Spencer’s. -30 fics in 30 days-

- Tiny Vessels: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader: Spencer is done lying to himself about his true feelings for reader, but isn’t done lying to them. ♥️-30 fics in 30 days-

Smutty (not full on smut, smut is further down):

Oneshots:

- Yeah: Sub!Spencer: Spencer Reid x Female Reader: When Reader’s favorite song comes on while they’re out at a bar with the team, Reader can’t resist wanting to dance with Spencer even if it outs their secret relationship. -request-

- Training Wheels: Sub!Spencer: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader: Years ago Spencer taught Reader to drive despite the fact that he hates driving. When they become good at driving enough to learn how to ride a motorcycle they get Spencer to come along for a ride.

Smut:

Oneshots:

Sub!Spencer Reid x Reader:

x Gender Neutral Reader:

- Georgia Peach: Sub!Spencer: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader: Spencer sees reader eating a peach and goes a little crazy. ♥️ -request-

- Helping hands: Sub!Spencer: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader: After a bad case Spencer needs help shaving after getting injured, he gets help from the least likely person to help in his life. ♥️ (Enemies to lovers) -prompt/request-

- Slapped: Sub!Spencer: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader x Elle Greenaway: impromptu little fic that @sparklinspence and I ended up writing quickly in the reblogs about Spencer getting his cock slapped while away on a case. ♥️

x Female Reader:

- Surprise Pretty Boy  :Sub!Spencer : Spencer Reid x Female Reader : Reader hasn’t had any sex in what feels like forever, so she seduces Spencer. When they get to Reader’s apartment she has a surprise waiting for him.

- Solaris: Sub!Spencer : Spencer Reid x Female Reader : Spencer and Reader finally get a vacation, so they go and see a Russian film called Solaris. Reader coxes Spencer into getting freaky in the theatre.

- Painted Nails: Sub!Spencer: Spencer Reid x Female Reader: Spencer’s dom paints his nails for date night and she goes crazy at the sight of them.—-request—-

- Plot twist: Sub!Spencer: Spencer Reid x Female Reader: Reader buys a new pair of heels but they aren’t for her. ♥️ —750 follower celebration—

- Keep Reading: Sub!Spencer: Spencer Reid x Female Reader: Reader brings a surprise for Spencer at their picnic date. -♥️—750 follower celebration— —prompt/request-

- Braided Brat: Sub!Spencer: Spencer Reid x Female Reader: Spencer lets Reader braid his hair, he can’t help but tease her. —750 follower celebration—

- Pleasent Surprise: Sub!Spencer: Spencer Reid x Female Reader: Reader asks Spencer if she can try to be more dominant in the bedroom. —750 follower celebration—

- Guest Lecturer: Sub!Spencer: Spencer Reid x Female Reader: gets Spencer riled up during class while he’s guest lecturing. ♥️—750 follower celebration—

-Taking care: Sub!Spencer: Spencer Reid x Female Reader: Spencer needs Reader to help him relax after some people were unkind to him —750 follower celebration—-request-

- Good in Red: Sub!Spencer: Spencer Reid x Female Reader: Spencer really likes the color of your lipstick. ♥️ —1000 follower celebration—

- Green with Envy: Sub!Spencer: Spencer Reid x Female Reader: Spencer gets mad over something reader can’t control and a fight ensues- plus heavy makeup sex after the fight.

- Soured Nostalgia: Sub!Spencer: Spencer Reid x Female Reader: When Reader moves their stuff in to Spencer’s apartment they find photos that he kept over the years. One photo of the past springs up memories of Spencer’s precious relationship with Elle. ♥️-30 fics in 30 days-

-Erotica Explained: Spencer Reid x Female Reader: Spencer finds Reader’s erotica writing. ♥️-30 fics in 30 days-

Dom!Spencer Reid x Reader:

- Star Trek vs. Star Wars: Dom!Spencer: Spencer Reid x Female Reader Smut: Spencer and reader get into a heated argument over which is better Star Trek or Star Wars, Reader in turn breaks some of Spencer’s rules. —fic swap—

- The Case of the Missing Coffee: Dom!Spencer: Spencer Reid x Female Reader Smut: Spencer gets on Reader’s nerves just a little too much one day.—fic swap—

-Occupied: Dom!Spencer: Spencer Reid x Female Reader: Spencer and Reader get caught in a bar bathroom by one of their coworkers after Reader couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. -500 follower celebration- -prompt/request-

- Birthday Spankings: Dom!Spencer: Spencer Reid x Female Reader: A normally shy reader decides to tease Spencer on his birthday thinking she could get away with it —request—

- Poker Face: Dom!Spencer: Spencer Reid x Female Reader: Reader thought she could get away with speaking her desires out loud as long as they were in a different language. Turns out, someone could understand her. ♥️

- April Fools: Dom!Spencer (not as harsh as others): Spencer Reid x Female Reader: Spencer needs to one up Reader just as he’s about to loose a prank war. —30 fics in 30 days-

- Dressed in Crimson: Dom!Spencer: Spencer Reid x Female Reader:(Royalty AU)Spencer is a stable boy with a passion for learning and Reader is the princess of the palace that he serves in. They’ve been in a secret relationship, the two grow restless about not being able to be out in the open. ♥️ -30 fics in 30 days-

Non specific dom Spencer Reid x Reader:

- Russian Roulette: Non specific dom: Spencer Reid x Female Unsub Reader: Reader and Spencer formed a relationship during an investigation, turns out she was the unsub they were looking for. Spencer finds the Readers hiding place cornering her, but he can’t let her go yet. Major Trigger Warnings ♥️⚠️ (SAD ENDING)

- Mismatched: Non specific dom: Spencer Reid x Female Reader: Reader is Spencer’s roommate and they have been pining after each other for a while. One morning they finally get to act on their feelings.

- The Big Bluff: Non specific dom: Spencer Reid x Female Reader: Spencer goes up against a professional poker player. ♥️-500 follower celebration-

- Any Iteration: Non specific dom: Spencer Reid x Female Reader: Reader is nervous that this new iteration of her won’t be something Spencer will like. ♥️

Blurbs:

- A Snowy Morning After: Part One, Part Two: Non specific dom: Spencer Reid x Female Reader: After being snowed in after a one night stand, Spencer wants to go for a round two. -1000 follower celebration—30 fics in 30 days-

Chip Taylor x Reader (MGG character from 68 kill)

Fluff:

Oneshots:

- Chipped: Chip Taylor x Gender Neutral Reader: Chip Taylor watching Beauty and the beast for the first time with Reader. -500 follower celebration- -prompt/request-

Angst:

Smut:

Oneshots:

Sub!Chip Taylor x Reader:

- Party Play: Sub!Chip: Chip Taylor x Female Reader: After Reader gets Chip to voice one of his deepest desires Reader takes him to a play party Reader’s friend hosts. ♥️-30 fics in 30 days-

Raymond Wadsworth x Reader (MGG character from Suburban Gothic)

Fluff:

Oneshots:

- Unsolved: Raymond Wadsworth x Gender Neutral Reader: Raymond runs into the buzzfeed unsolved duo investigating the same place he is, plus their cute camera operator. -500 follower celebration- -prompt/request-

Smut:

Oneshots:

Sub!Raymond Wadsworth:

- Spooks: Sub!Raymond: Raymond Wadsworth x Female Reader: Raymond starts sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong at the next haunting he’s investigating. ♥️ -30 fics in 30 days-

Angst:

Oneshots:

Blurbs:

- Birthday Blues: Raymond Wadsworth x Gender Neutral Reader: Raymond wants his partner to come back from the dead.

Franklin x Reader (MGG character from Beginner’s luck)

Fluff:

Oneshots:

- Bowling Ball Baby Franklin x Pregnant Female Reader: Franklin and Reader get into a fight about him not being there for Reader’s pregnancy. He has a unique way of apologizing.♥️-Hurt/Comfort-

- Gutter Balls Franklin x Male Reader: While meeting up for a friendly game of bowling with Franklin’s team some very rude people try to insert their opinion on yours and Franklin’s relationship. (Has some angst but is v happy). —request—

- Chili Cheese Fries: Franklin x Gender Neutral Reader: Franklin tries to make bowling alley food taste better during a first date. ♥️ -30 fics in 30 days-

Angst:

Smut:

Oneshots:

- The Owner’s Office: Dom!Franklin: Franklin x Female Reader: Franklin won’t stop pestering the owner of the alley about getting a discount. —1000 follower celebration— —prompt/request— ♥️

Lesley Smith-Juniment x Reader (MGG in Hot Air)

Fluff:

- Unintentionally Unrequited: Lesley Smith-Juniment x Gender Neutral Reader: Reader holds in their love for Lesley after his broken engagement. -30 fics in 30 days-

Angst:

Smut:

-Will be adding more characters in the future-

[secretsickysideblog]

putting it lightly

'“m’not drunk,” abbacchio groans, rolling over.

bucciarati laughs, a bitter sound, and shakes his head in pure exasperation. “yes. alright. i am so glad you did not decide to pursue a career in acting.”'

after a day spent searching for his awol teammate, bucciarati comes home to find that abbacchio had been peacefully asleep on his sofa all along.

(sicktember day 6, alternate prompt: asleep on the couch)

read under the cut!

Bucciarati is, put lightly, seething.

There’s this rage he hasn’t felt in a long time bubbling in the pit of his stomach, and although it’s the type that stems purely from concern, his blood is undeniably boiling. Because upon stepping into the front door of his apartment, Bucciarati is greeted with the sight of a familiar someone asleep on his couch--the same someone who has been AWOL all day, refusing to pick up the phone.

Bucciarati considers himself to be a rather patient man on the best of days and relatively tolerant even on those days that are not so great. And he is--he tries to be--as understanding as possible. So normally, if this were any other day, if he had gotten so much as a text confirming that Abbacchio was alive, Bucciarati would be fine with this. Mildly annoyed, but mostly in the sense of preferring to know when things were wrong with the people he holds dear before the problem rears its ugly head and less from the standpoint of work.

But Leone Abbacchio has been dead on air all day long. Bucciarati had gone through the other man’s apartment twice, and, accompanied by Fugo himself, they’d checked the youngest’s apartment all the same as if Abbacchio would have any reason at all to be there. Internally, Bucciarati slaps himself in the face for not considering that Abbacchio would have wandered here--but really, what reason would Abbacchio have to be here while vehemently ignoring any attempts to get into contact with him?

Bucciarati sucks a long inhale in through his teeth. It won’t do him any good to yell right now; for all he knows, the man passed out before him might be too far gone to comprehend a word he says, and Bucciarati would rather not strain his vocal chords for a reason so pointless as yelling to what may as well be a wall.

“Leone,” he calls, and the man doesn’t stir. He tries again with a little more fervor. No response.

A cold feeling manifests in Bucciarati’s veins as the consideration that, maybe, Abbacchio had trudged his way here to die pops up in his head. Maybe Abbacchio came all the way here because he knew it was the end, or because he had opted for the end, and maybe Bucciarati should be calling an ambulance right about now and he looks awfully similar to--

Bucciarati squeezes his eyes shut and shakes that train of thought away. The only way to know whether or not any of that was true would be to approach him, and if it were, Bucciarati would just have to deal with it. He’s come to be an expert at just dealing with things over the course of his eighteen years and change. With a tumultuous mix of rage and fear turning his stomach, Bucciarati approaches the couch, and he watches for a moment until he spots Abbacchio’s chest rise and fall once.

Good. He’s alive.

And with absolutely no sympathy, Bucciarati gives Abbacchio a firm shake by the shoulder to jostle him out of what Bucciarati assumes to be an alcohol-induced stupor--the flush across his defined cheekbones says all he needs to know. Except when Abbacchio blinks his eyes open with a groan, they’re glazed over and hazy in an unfamiliar way; when that golden gaze locks onto Bucciarati, it appears to lock onto something behind him. Within him, even. Through him.

“What in the hell are you doing here, Abbacchio?”

Abbacchio’s expression turns confused and quickly contorts into something that looks rather pained. Bucciarati keeps himself firm, even though something in him wants to ask ‘what hurts?’ Perhaps it’s a selfish act, to be angry, but Abbacchio has been sober for nearly a month now and Bucciarati sees no good reason to be ruining that. Abbacchio is guilty until proven innocent.

When he speaks, much to Bucciarati’s surprise, his breath smells like mint-- shockingly, mint and a hint of sleep and not at all alcohol. Not even coffee, which has served as Abbacchio’s replacement vice, in a sense. (It gives him something to refine taste in. Something to be picky about, a type of fill-in high.)

“Your door...it was unlocked,” is what Abbacchio says, and it’s slurred, but not in the way that he slurs when he’s wasted. It’s slurred in a manner that’s groggier than anything else.

“It’s always unlocked,” Bucciarati snaps. That was not the answer he was looking for, because that’s common sense. His door is always unlocked for the two subordinates he’s recruited that might need something at an ungodly hour, Abbacchio being a frequent visitor just after midnight.

Abbacchio hums, and his eyes close again as if he’s struggling to keep them open.

“Abbacchio,” Bucciarati gives him a quick pat on the cheek to get his attention back. “Don’t pass out on me again. I want an explanation.”

Dual-colored eyes reappear. Abbacchio says nothing more.

“Leone Abbacchio, why the hell did you decide to fuck up now? It’s been nearly a month and you haven’t come close to a relapse since three weeks ago! Not to mention, you have avoided me all day, only to end up here? What if you had been dying? I thought you had crawled your sorry ass over here to die on my couch,” Bucciarati growls, tone undoubtedly dripping with poison, and yet some aftertaste of it is sweet. Vaguely sweet. Because he isn’t really angry. He’s worried, as is often the case.

“M’not drunk,” Abbacchio groans, rolling over.

Bucciarati laughs, a bitter sound, and shakes his head in pure exasperation. “Yes. Alright. I am so glad you did not decide to pursue a career in acting.”

“I mean it,” Abbacchio’s voice comes out muffled by the navy throw pillow he has his face buried in, and yet there’s a distinctive whining quality to it. He doesn’t sound drunk--he sounds off. It’s disconcerting, because Bucciarati’s only assumption is that he’s more inebriated than he’s ever had the displeasure of seeing him before, and yet that wouldn’t make sense because the first night they met Abbacchio had a foot and a half well in the grave and a heel slipping downward.

Flushed cheeks, glazed-over eyes, and this slurring, whining tone. A clear dislike for the light in his eyes, as shown by the way he’s burying his face in a pillow, and he’d managed to get out of bed and brush his teeth but he’d opted against coffee. Bucciarati looks over his clues, looks over the sight before him, and tries to connect the pictures with a piece of logical twine. All at once, it comes together, and that burning rage within him is ignited by a cold wash of guilt.

He must be sick.

Bucciarati presses the back of his hand to Abbacchio’s cheek, and then to his forehead, and the heat radiating off of his pale face (paler than usual, somehow, and devoid of makeup) confirms it. For the second time in the past ten minutes, Bucciarati mentally slaps himself, and then again for good measure. As ample punishment, he decides to give himself an internal kick to the shin, too.

He exhales a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding, the high-strung tension in his body melting into a puddle at his feet. Sick, he can handle. He can handle sickness just fine, actually. He crouches down beside the sofa and nudges Abbacchio’s shoulder with more care this time, gently prodding for his attention for just a moment longer. Bucciarati knows from experience that sleeping on this couch is comfortable, but not nearly as pleasant as a bed, especially not on lead-limbs and fever pains.

“Come on,” all of the venom has drained away from his voice, and so has a good half of the volume, “let’s get you to bed, alright? This couch is cheap. It won’t do any good for your back.”

Abbacchio takes a long while to respond to the suggestion, but eventually, he sits himself upright and manages to force himself up onto his feet. He sways a bit, and Bucciarati prepares himself to catch him if he goes down even if he has more muscle in his left bicep than Bucciarati has in his entire body. Maybe it’s the sentiment--if he goes down, at least he wouldn’t go down alone.

It takes a couple of pauses for Abbacchio to lean against the wall and take a breather (and there’s a moment where even more color drains from his face, and Bucciarati just about unzips a hole in the floor to avoid having to clean vomit off of the hardwood). Ultimately, though, they make it to the bedroom. Bucciarati makes sure Abbacchio is settled. He slips off the other’s shoes, which must have been unpleasant to fall asleep in, and sets them by the bedroom door.

“Do you need anything?” Bucciarati asks, and Abbacchio shakes his head. “Another blanket? I’m getting you water, and that isn’t up for debate.”

His answer comes in the form of complete stillness. Quiet. And Abbacchio, for someone that must have a rather high fever, seems to be at peace. Bucciarati sighs, looks over his form. Now that he’s certain the other is sleeping and not dead, he wonders if he should address the fear he felt at the notion of losing Abbacchio with himself, because it was a different kind of fear. As though losing him would leave not only a gap in his life, in his heart, but in his being entirely.

He slips off to fill a glass of water, sets it on the bedside table. And he settles into bed on the other side of Abbacchio’s sleeping form, carding fingers through his silky hair as though it’s the most natural gesture in the world. He’s gotten far too used to Abbacchio’s presence in the handful of months they’ve known each other. And maybe it could be chalked up to the closeness they’ve been forced into, or up to the reliance Abbacchio has on him and the feeling of being relied on. Maybe it’s the way Abbacchio looks at him when he’s wasted. Maybe it’s the grateful way he looks at him when he starts sobering up later in the night.

Or perhaps, Bucciarati muses, he might be, lightly put, falling in love.

[lambourngb]

a skeleton of something more [2/6]

previously here. malex wip fic. a short serial leading up the premiere.

spoilers for the trailer and promo, will be instantly AU. If I’m going to the trouble of writing a malex fix-it for the season 3 opener, why not fix 2x13 too?

**** THEN **** 

After Alex closed Tripp’s journal, he met Michael’s gaze across the table at the Crashdown. 

His golden-brown eyes were heavy with pain, the reminder of how his mother’s story had ended was still fresh between them despite the span of months since the fiery end of Caulfield. What had resulted in being the fiery end of them, even though Alex hadn’t known it at the time. The look of sleeplessness in Michael’s face reminded Alex, that outside of this small piece of Nora, he had the weight of Maria still in the hospital recovering from the pathogen Flint had released. The press of the Deep Sky ring in his pocket warred with the hesitation to place one more burden on Michael, would the abacus of their fragile friendship balance out?

He flashed to that last argument in Michael’s bunker, a disaster of his own making, thinking he could believe in his father, but thankfully harm was averted at Crashcon. That recent memory was motive enough for Alex to decide. Whatever happened next, he needed Michael on the same page with him.

As Isobel moved to leave the table, explaining to Michael that she needed to check on Max, Alex held Michael’s gaze deliberately. Then he folded his fingers down, until the last three fanned out in a downward W. 

“After what happened with Maria, maybe you should come with me, Michael. You can help me shake some sense into Max,” Alex heard, tuning back into Isobel’s voice. Her eyes moved back and forth between them, a crease of suspicion wrinkling her upturned nose, as she stopped on him. “It’ll be a good distraction.”

Without looking at Isobel, Michael’s eyes remained trained on Alex’s hand. “No, thanks, I’m good here. I’ve had my fill of stubborn ass people who don’t want to listen to sensible advice from me, so I’ll catch up with you later, Isobel.” 

She made a dismissive huff but did not argue, leaving with the barest semblance of a polite goodbye to Alex, but that was typical Isobel Evans. Michael waited until his sister was on the other side of the door, before speaking quietly, his gaze finally moving up from Alex’s hands to his face. “I haven’t seen you flash that sign to me in years.” 

“Glad to know you haven’t forgotten it.”

“You, making the ‘wait for me, I want you now’ signal? Nah, that’s been burned into my brain over the years.” Michael said it with a faint trace of bitterness. “I guess news travels fast, Maria only dumped my ass this morning.”

Alex winced and looked down, swallowing the surprise and spark of hope that welled in his throat at that disclosure. It was better to concentrate on the unique talent he had of stepping on landmines around Michael, than wonder about what had happened with Maria. It looked like he was still good at causing harm without intention, judging by the stung bite in Michael’s voice. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have-”

“No, I’m sorry,” Michael cut off his apology firmly with a wave of his hand, calling a time-out. Alex waited, his teeth pressed into his lower lip as Michael rubbed his eyes with a weary half-smile. “I’m being an asshole right now, and that’s not fair to take it out on you. It’s been a shitty day already, and — anyway, … you definitely know how to get my attention, Alex.” He tilted his head, self-deprecation on his face, “for better or worse, you’ve always been good at that.” 

It had been the sign they had developed whenever their paths had crossed over the years while Alex had been on leave in Roswell, but it had started that summer after high school. After Michael’s hand had healed poorly from Jesse, the last three fingers had been left frozen in a claw, it had been a shared fuck-you to his dad to use it to form their own secret communication. A three-fingered W, turned upward meant it wasn’t a good time, and he would find Michael later; turned downward, well, that meant it was safe to approach him, and it had often ended in a hurried blowjob in his car. Perhaps he should have used more care in using it now, but Michael wasn’t the only one running on the fumes of insomnia and stress. “Sorry, I needed to talk to you, and I wanted to make sure you didn’t leave with Isobel-”

“It’s fine, really. It’s not a bad memory either, remembering that we had our little secret language.” Michael wiggled his fingers in reassurance, his left hand still wrapped with a bandanna. “I can make that signal a hell of a lot easier now, too. But anyway, what did you need?”

There was still a voice inside Alex’s head that said ‘you’, no matter how long it had been. He shoved that down deep, along with his curiosity about Maria, and concentrated on his purpose. “Your advice on something, and then if it’s not too much to ask, your help.”

“Anything.” 

Alex blinked, nonplussed by the easy acceptance. 

Michael gestured encouragingly, “seriously, anything, just tell me what’s going on because the way you’re hemming and hawing, it is freaking me out.” Suddenly, all expression washed out of Michael’s face as a horrible thought occurred to him. “Did you get deployed or something?”

“Not exactly, not how you’re thinking,” he winced at the earned glare from Michael as he continued to stall while the words still tripped and fumbled around his mouth, heedless to the mounting frustration between them both. He sighed, and regrouped. Pushing the closed journal aside, Alex dug into his pocket and laid the signet ring on the table before Michael. “Let me start at the beginning, I found this in my dad’s things.” 

“Jesse never seemed like a jewelry kind of guy to me.” Michael picked up the ring, examining it closely with a sarcastic smirk. “Other than parading around town with that wedding ring, when everyone knows your mom left him back during the Bush years, Dubya that is.”

“My father is all, was all, about appearances.” Alex placed the photo of the group on the table, sliding it over to him. “That ring marked his membership in this paramilitary group called Deep Sky. Every man in that photo worked at Caulfield, at one time or another.” He tapped his finger over the face of his father, then moved it to the right. “That’s my dad, and that is Ricky Long.”

Michael frowned, pulling the picture closer to squint at the faces. “Wyatt’s dad?”

“No, Forrest’s.”

“Nazi guy? Seriously?” He rubbed at his chin, the stubble longer than usual painting his jawline. Alex dragged his eyes away with effort as Michael considered that information. There was a reluctant understanding in his eyes, having recalled that Forrest Long wasn’t just ‘Nazi Guy’ to Alex, but someone who had expressed interest in Alex. Personal interest. “I guess that’s something you guys have in common then, dirtbag dads.” 

He didn’t look thrilled to admit that to Alex, but it was a mark of how far they had both come as friends that Michael had said it anyway regardless. It was kind of him. It was the same type of empathy Alex had extended toward Michael, when he had expressed interest in Maria. Cut open, bleeding under his skin from all the ways he had squandered his own chances, he had said something similar to Michael once upon a time. That was what love was all about. Then he had kept saying it, until he believed it most days because wanting Michael to be happy was the easier ask.

It was a gracious sentiment that was entirely wasted by Michael when it came to Forrest Long. 

“It would be, uh, something to bond over, if I hadn’t noticed that Forrest wears the same ring now.” 

Michael’s eyes sharpened. “Family heirloom or do you think he worked at Caulfield?”

“I don’t know, but he is an ex-Army vet.” Alex tapped the photo of the members gathered together, “That was part of what I’ve been looking into, identifying everyone who worked at Caulfield right until the end. As for Deep Sky, I don’t know if it’s military service, Caulfield, or a family legacy that ties every member together, I just know that Dad kept in touch with those who were involved at the prison.” 

“Makes sense, Jesse was able to get a hold of the atomizer and pathogen that Charlie developed from somewhere. For all of his strutting around at Crashcon with a uniform on, that didn’t look like it was an official use of government property.” 

“Right, it definitely wasn’t, and before you tell me to leave it alone-” Alex began, remembering Michael’s response to the investigation into 1947. He had considered Alex’s actions back then to be an act of futility, something that could only hurt by being revisited. The past being the past, unable to be altered. 

This time Michael cut him off, “No, I was wrong about that. I, um, I finally realized that just because I don’t see you connected to that place or the rest of your family, doesn’t mean you don’t. And while I wish that you didn’t, Alex, if digging into this gives you some sort of peace over it, then do it.”

Alex looked down, feeling the weight of relief that Michael understood. After his father’s body had been removed, after the questions and lies had been spun, he had spent the entire night sleepless over having been made into an effective weapon to force Michael’s compliance. Helena had known where all the weak spots were thanks to Flint, and had armed herself with a depowering agent. Once Flint was recovered, there was nothing stopping him from employing a similar tactic in the future.

“If anyone’s going to destroy me, it might as well be you.” Michael had once declared with a bold carelessness that had infuriated and terrified Alex at the time, but that was nothing compared to now having a lived experience to back it up. His mind had easily used the memory of Maria’s collapse after the faintest exposure at the Crashcon and had exchanged her with Michael, being torn apart molecule by molecule, by an invisible threat.

Give him an enemy that he could see any day, especially one that bled. 

“I’ve been fighting so long, I don’t know what peace looks like anymore.” Alex held out his hand for the ring, and Michael gently laid it in his palm, brushing his fingertips over Alex’s skin. A lifetime of controlling himself kept the reaction off his face as he rubbed his thumb over the raised emblem of Deep Sky. “But I have learned recently that when something seems too good to be true, it is.” 

Neither of them mentioned Jesse and his performance from the last few months, but Michael frowned again, “Wait a second, you think Forrest targeted you on purpose?” 

“A member of a secret paramilitary organization just happens to ask me out after I was involved in the destruction of Caulfield? You really think that’s a coincidence?” Alex raised his eyebrow skeptically at Michael, before looking out the window to watch the pedestrians on the street. 

“I think you’re the hottest guy in Roswell, so I’m not surprised he asked you out.” Michael flushed a little when Alex turned back to stare at him in surprise over the flattering comment. “Seriously, you’re a catch, but I will agree, it’s not a good look that he’s got that ring. But maybe it’s crap he wears because of his dad, and he’s got no idea he’s parading around?”

“You’re being awfully generous.”

“Isn’t that what you want? Because last time I checked, you were the one telling me that I should have faith in people, even if they give me no reason to.” Michael flattened his hands on the table, drawing Alex’s attention to the bandanna on his hand again. That damn fight kept echoing between them to Alex’s dismay, but Michael didn’t let him linger over it, “While I stand by what I said about Jesse, ‘cause he messes us both up, all I know about Forrest Long is that he is way too interested in Nazi history and he has good taste in guys.” Michael wetted his lips, nervously to tack on, “I also know that I trust you, and your instincts, so if you say there’s something not right about him, then I believe you.” 

“There’s something not right about him,” Alex repeated seriously.

“Then I believe you, so what do you need me to do?”

“He wants to get close to me for some reason, probably related to what I know about aliens, so I’m going to let him. And I need you to back me up in case something goes wrong, and maybe use that lock pick you have in your brain?” Alex waited until Michael nodded in agreement, feeling the swell of gratitude at his support. Anyone else would probably think he was being paranoid, or that this was a delayed reaction to his father trying to kill them, but Michael, for all of his previous counter-arguments, had never truly believed in the good of humanity. Maybe in a few days, Alex would feel guilty in relying on that. Maybe in a few days, his suspicions about Forrest would be eliminated.

“He’s involved in running the open mike night at the Wild Pony with Maria, so I thought maybe I could perform a song or something? He drives a Prius, and while he’s listening to me sing, you could slip out mid-song and insert this into the code reader of his car.” 

On the table was a small device that mimicked a thumb drive, small and black. It was the type of technology that Alex had used in the Air Force, tracking terrorists abroad. It had taken a fair amount of searching to purchase the equivalent stateside to have on hand. Michael picked it up curiously, turning over his hands.

“It’s designed to download the GPS history of his car,” Alex explained, before rubbing the back of his head in thought. “That’s how I uncovered what my dad was up to, first by tracking his movements. If I let Forrest take me home, I can gain access to his laptop and phone.”

Michael furrowed his brow in concern, “You’re really willing to go that far? And what if he is involved in something shady, what then?”

“My father and brother both used me to get to you, there’s really nothing I wouldn’t do to keep that from happening again and if it means playing along with this guy, letting him lead me to the members of Deep Sky? Then I will.” If anything, his words only deepened the concern on Michael’s face, but Alex had been committed for a long time. Since the red level threat. Since the short ride to the recruitment office. Maybe as far back as his guitar going missing in the music room.

“I’ve slept with guys for worse reasons.”

CONTINUED HERE

[talatomaz]

crossing paths pt.i | diana prince x lance!reader

a/n: reader has the powers of telekinesis. since this was going to be really long, i decided to split it into two parts. also this may be slightly canon divergent since i’ve not watched flash in a long time.

warnings: mentions of fighting, death

word count: 1.9k

masterlist | request list | request rules

pt.i | pt.ii

reader is sara & laurel’s younger sister who works with team flash. after her and cisco’s experiment goes sideways, she finds herself trapped on an unknown earth not unlike her own

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

“You’re absolutely sure this will work, Cisco?”

You asked, tying your hair up into a ponytail whilst the mechanical genius typed on his computer; the keys clacking under his fingertips.

“Yes. 100%. Well, more like 99%. Okay, if we’re being truly honest, then 93%.”

Cisco paused after each figure before turning his head to face you.

“Cisco-“

You started before the former interrupted, “Trust me, y/n. You’ll be fine. You just need to travel there, have a look around and then come straight back. We’ve done it so many times before.”

You and Cisco had been working on modifying the extrapolator your team often used to travel between different Earths. Or rather, you used to use them before the rebirth of the universe following Oliver’s sacrifice.

You cleared your throat at the thought of the vigilante. Having grown up with him and he having dated both of your older sisters meant that he was practically like your brother. And you were broken when you’d lost him so you’d left Team Arrow and came to work with Barry and his team instead.

Working with Team Flash was...different, to say the least. But having known them for several years, you got on well with them all, especially Cisco and Iris.

However, this project you were working on was only known to you and Cisco; the others blissfully unaware, mainly because the two of you knew that if you told them, they’d guilt you into stopping your experiment.

You were the one who had gone to Cisco with the idea in the first place.

After the Crisis, many of you had assumed that everyone solely remained on one Earth however you believed that the multiverse still existed, but that it’d be much harder to access. Cisco had agreed to help you but had explained that he wouldn’t come with you due to his relinquished powers.

So here you were, getting ready to try out the extrapolator in order to confirm or disprove your theory that the multiverse still existed.

“Technically, we haven’t, Cisco. New Earth remember?”

“That’s just semantics.”

“Cisco, if this doesn’t work, you better be ready to explain to my ex-assassin of a sister what happened to me.”

You laughed as his face dropped at the thought of that conversation.

He cleared his throat, “I’ve done all the necessary calculations and made a few needed modifications, including a GPS chip. It’ll work, y/n. Here, take your mask. Just in case.”

He added as an afterthought, handing you the sleek black mask he had designed to disguise your identity.

You put the mask in your jacket and took a deep breath, readying yourself. Holding the extrapolator, you pressed the small button and a familiar portal opened in front of you; variations of colours swirling around the breach.

You looked back at Cisco and feigned seriousness, “If I die, I’m going to kill you.”

His eyes widened making you smile, “Be safe, Cisco. I’ll see you soon.”

With that, you then stepped into the inter-dimensional breach.

***

“Okay, hopefully this worked.”

The breach closed behind you as you stepped into an alley; the several dumpsters providing some form of protection from anyone who may have seen you.

Wherever you were, it was bright and sunny.

Pocketing the extrapolator, you stepped out of the alley and walked down the paved sidewalk, listening for any indications of where you were from passersby.

You continued walking until you came across a newsstand that looked fairly out of place in this seemingly technological environment.

You stopped, peering at the front cover of one of the magazines.

The words “DAILY PLANET” were printed on the top of the paper. You reached down and picked it up, flicking through the pages, pausing when you saw a familiar name on the byline.

Folding the paper back into its original state, you placed it back on the stand, flashing a kind but brief smile to the newsagent who looked at you with intrigue.

Although you didn’t know what Earth you were on, at least you knew you were in Metropolis.

A place you had visited several times since the rebirth of the universe.

A place that, despite whatever Earth, was always home to one Clark Kent, better known as Superman.

You pondered in your thoughts for a little while longer before deciding to venture out and explore the city, eager to find any similarities or differences between your Earth and this one.

You ended up in a museum.

You weren’t sure exactly how you’d gotten there, having followed wherever your feet had taken you but, nevertheless, you were here.

Whilst you were never a huge fan of museums, you’d often found yourself being dragged to them by Laurel when you were younger.

There was something about them that she’d loved.

She tried explaining it to you once.

How the beauty of art told a story or something.

You didn’t really pay much attention and who could have blamed you? You were only 10 years old. You’d rather be out playing or hanging out with your friends than spending your Saturday afternoon in a stuffy old museum.

But this place was anything but.

In truth, you knew that you sought solace in places like these during times of distress or uncertainty.

It gave you a chance to feel closer to your sister after the world had cruelly taken her away from you. Even on another Earth, you still found peace and felt her presence next to you.

You sighed, your shoulders sagging before tensing once more, feeling someone behind you.

You never used to be so on edge.

When you were younger, you lived such a care free life, never feeling any need to be concerned or cautious.

But that had changed quickly.

Soon you had been thrust into the vigilante life, more determined than ever to become like your sisters and help them fight crime.

In fact, you had learned to fight from a reluctant Sara.

After several arguments about the danger of her world, she’d come to accept that there was no changing your mind and had decided that if you were going to purposely put yourself in harm’s way, you needed to be prepared. She had put you through vigorous training which Oliver soon picked up with you after Sara had been recruited to form the Legends.

So, suffice it to say, you were well-versed in the forms of self-defence and were constantly on the lookout for any form of danger.

And being on a different Earth certainly warranted your caution.

“How are you liking our exhibit?”

A feminine voice said, her voice thick with an accent you couldn’t distinguish.

Turning with a smile, you spoke, “It’s beautiful. I never used to appreciate art but now I find myself lost in the works of Rembrandt or Claude Monet.”

“Ah yes. They were most excellent artists.”

You blinked, not at her words but at her face.

The woman who stood before you was, quite simply put, the most beautiful person you’d ever seen in your life.

Realising you were staring, you cleared your throat, “Yes, I agree.”

You opened your mouth to say something else - what, you weren’t sure of - when you closed it again having spotted a man who’d just entered the room which held the small exhibit.

The figure wore a black cap, obstructing his face, his eyes darting around before landing on another male situated in one of the corners of the room. The latter gave him a brief nod which the other returned. Discreetly glancing at them, you noticed familiar bulges beneath their shirt, surely holding a gun.

“Okay, don’t be alarmed but I think this place is about to get robbed.” You said in a hushed whisper, faking interest in another piece of art beside you.

You noted the small but discernible flicker in the woman’s eyes, her name still unknown to you.

“How-“

“Let’s just say I’m perceptive. Do me a favour and take out your phone.”

You waited until the brunette had followed your instructions.

“Pretend to be talking to someone and walk out the room. They’re not going to do anything until you’re gone because they don’t want to run the risk of you warning someone.”

She nodded at your words and proceeded to carry out your plan.

You fought the look of surprise and confusion that surely would’ve shown on your face at the lack of fear on hers. Instead, her eyes seemed to hold a look of determination.

Determined to do what, you weren’t sure of.

Once she had left, your suspicions were confirmed when the two men simultaneously took out their guns and shouted.

“Everybody down on the ground. Now!”

Screams and shouts were let out by the small group of citizens in the room, replacing the quiet bustle of hushed whispers that had previously filled the air.

As everyone immediately fell to the ground, you slid down the wall until you were in an upright position.

You watched as they removed several of the smaller pieces of art, carefully placing them in a duffel bag. You waited until they grew closer to you before standing up causing both of their guns to be aimed at you.

“Sit back down or you’ll get a bullet in your pretty little head.”

They both moved to stand in front of you, blocking you from the view of the security cameras and the people behind them. Using your powers, you pulled the guns toward you and flung them to the far side of the room.

You took advantage of their momentary confusion and kicked both of them. One of them grabbed you from behind, his tight grip trapping your arms. You raised your legs and caged the other’s neck between them.

Twisting your legs, you threw him to the ground and then drew yourself closer into your captor’s arms, lifting off the ground for a brief second before throwing him over your shoulders and onto the ground beside the other intruder.

“Run!”

You yelled to the handful of citizens who watched you with a mixture of awe and fear.

Then you felt yourself being pushed against the marble ground as one of the men jumped on top of you, his weight crushing your small figure.

“You’re going to regret that, bitch.” He snarled against your ear.

You threw your head back, smirking when you heard the grunt of pain and several curses falling from the man’s lips.

You raised your hands and with it, the other man floated in the air. With a wave of your wrist, he went crashing into his friend and they slumped into a corner.

You quickly picked yourself up and ran out of the museum’s back exit, knowing you had to avoid the police at all costs.

Reaching an abandoned alley, similar to the one you first arrived in, you took out the inter-dimensional extrapolator, deciding it was way too dangerous for you to remain here any longer.

Pressing the device, you expected to see a breach form but to your shock, there was none. Inspecting the device, you saw that it had been broken, more than likely from when you’d been thrown against the ground by the robbers.

You muttered a foul curse before calming yourself.

Think, y/n. Think.

Your ears perked up at the familiar whistle and rattle of train tracks.

Okay, you knew what to do next.

You needed to go home.

Part 2 ->

[lizamango]

Finding You (Bucky Barnes x Reader) 6/?

A/N: Hi loves! Long chapter ahead! Watched Shang-Chi this weekend and wowowowowow go see it if you haven’t!! 

We are now in the AGE OF ULTRON phase; I wanted to finally start building the foundations of your friendship with Wanda this chapter! 

And Agents of Shield cameos!

Summary: You’ve been one of SHIELD’s top spies for years but what happens when the organisation you’ve put your trust in crumbles and Captain America gives you a mission to help him find his best friend? The last thing you expected to happen was to fall in love with your assignment and become best friends with a witch.

Taglist  ~ just comment if you wanna be added

@buckylokisimp​​, @white-wolf-buckaroo​​, @austynparksandpizza, @markandlexies,  @yaszx​

Word Count: 2705

Masterlist

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5

Warnings: cursing, slowest fucking burn oml

Chapter Summary: You meet the Maximoff twins and the Avengers on your search for Sergeant Barnes.

Chapter 6:  I’M NICE TO MEET

“Another bust,” I say into my comms as Fitz, Johnson, Ward and I exit the base, leaving knocked out or restrained HYDRA agents for the local authorities to find.

“Copy that,” Fury replies.

“You know, this is like… we’re vigilantes, right? This isn’t legal anymore? We have no jurisdiction anywhere,” Fitz says.

“SHIELD did what SHIELD wanted,” I shrug. “Now it’s our turn.”

“That’s true, SHIELD never followed the rules, not even their own,” Daisy added.

“Excuse me, did you forget that you were on the line with the Director of SHIELD?” Fury defends.

I chuckle. “You mean former right? Because Fitz has a point, if we get caught we go to jail too.”

“Well, good thing we still have access to a quinjet,” Fury says as he lands right in front of us.

“Very smooth,” we climb in as the ramp comes down and take a seat. I sigh, “gone are the good ol’ days.”

“I never even got to experience them,” Daisy shrugs.

“They weren’t that great for us. She had it good, being Level 7,” Grant comments.

“You’re Level 6! I’m still Level 4!” Fitz exclaims, offended.

“The system collapsed when SHIELD fell, I can make you unofficially Level 10 if you’d like?” I offer as I go to the mini fridge to take out a… “who ate the mozzarella and prosciutto wrap?” I say, closing the door and looking at everyone disappointedly.

“Wasn’t me,” Daisy and Grant say.

My eyes shift to Fitz. “I’m sorry, did it have your name on it? Because it didn’t so…” I pick up an apple and throw it at him. “Ow ow ow what the hell!”

“Behave,” we hear May through the comms.

“Sorry, May,” we all say as we take out seats, buckling up to meet Fury.

He’s typing away at the computer when we enter his makeshift underground office. It’s still hard to get used to being based here and not some fancy DC high rise.

“We’ve stormed two bases and found nothing. The Avengers have cleared four and they haven’t found the sceptre either,” Daisy recounts.

“There has to be something we’re missing,” Fitz says.

“We have two computer geniuses, tactile and operations experts and we can’t find a magical space stick,” I say, frustrated but this mission isn’t the only thing on my mind. It’s been almost a year since Steve asked Sam and I for help and we still haven’t found anything solid. The HYDRA bases haven’t revealed anything helpful either.

“On a lighter note, HYDRA is six bases down! I see that as an absolute win,” Fitz smiles.

“I’d say you all take a break. I’ve not found anything as of yet so… go back to your lives for a little bit. I’ll send directives if I find anything,” Fury orders.

“You know… you’re not the boss of us anymore, right?” I raise a brow.

“You’re dismissed.”

I go home with the intention of getting some rest but there’s something grating at my mind. It seems too easy that we’ve taken down six bases in the span of a year after HYDRA had been hiding in the shadows for decades… I go to my laptop and map out where each base was found. Huh… They arrange in a line of six and when the order of discovery is taken into account it seems that each base gets farther and farther away from one country. Sokovia.

I pack a bag with disguises that I still kept around, a photostatic veil and more subtle weapons in the place of guns. Time to go into the belly of the beast.

I look at my phone and assume the identity of a scientist that I see is on her way into the base. Before she gets too close I knock her out with a an electric disc. I drag her unconscious body to a place with cover and scan her face with my phone, syncing it up with my photostatic veil. Once it uploads, I put it on my face which has now taken hers. I style my hair similar to hers and replace my clothes with hers. I tie her up but inject her with a sedative that should last long enough for me to gather intel. I go through her bag and read through her diary and tablet to see where she should and shouldn’t be, to prevent suspicion.

I sigh. “Ideme na to,” here we go, I practice my Sokovian.

I enter the base. Doctor Kovak seems to be reporting to sub-level 3 according to her diary. I follow the signs quietly but the staff here seem to be too busy with their own tasks to mind me.

“Doctor Kovak,” I turn to the source of the voice. Wolfgang von Strucker, of course. “How are the test subjects?” he asks.

“I’m checking on them now, Herr Strucker,” I respond. He nods and gestures for me to walk with him. He leads me to two rooms with one sided glass. HYDRA’s still experimenting on people… There’s a man in the cell to the left who looks healthy enough and a woman in the cell next to him, sat on her knees looking at blocks of wood. I raise a brow but take out Dr. Kovak’s tablet, tapping around to find something.

“Magnificent, aren’t they?”

I find a tab on SUBJECTS and tap it, leading me to 16 more tabs labelled FAILURES but two SUCCESSES. This brings me to the Maximoff twins, Pietro and Wanda. The doctor’s newest entry was from last night. “The male has increased metabolism and improved homeostasis,” I say. “His vitals look normal, for someone going through this,” I add as I look to the monitor on the wall of his side. “The female has exhibited abilities of telekinesis.” I stop myself from frowning… they’re human?

“Keep an eye on them. I want to know more. I want to know how they survived the powers of the sceptre while many others did not. What makes them special, doctor? We are running out of bases to feed the Avengers.” He walks away before I can acknowledge his orders.

So the sceptre is here and they were just trying to keep themselves out of our radar. My stomach sinks slightly in disappointment as there was the possibility that what HYDRA was hiding was Barnes… maybe he’s still free then. Hopefully.

I look at the twins files for more information on why they would volunteer for such experiments. Native Sokovians, orphaned at ten years old and only having each other since then. I look up and notice that Wanda is staring at me. Or, correction, she’s staring into my soul.

I need to find the sceptre but that can wait at the presence of two enhanced individuals that have chosen the opposing side.

I open Wanda’s cell. “Miss Maximoff,” I greet. “Good morning,” she doesn’t reply. “I just wanted to learn more about you.”

Her head tilts but she doesn’t say anything.

“What made you want to volunteer for this… program?” I ask.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I believe there is something special about you and your brother. We’ve of course taken biological samples but I like to take a more… holistic approach to find out more.”

She looks at me and I swear her eyes glow red.

“I just want to help.”

She blinks and her posture relaxes as if she believes me. “I lost everyone but my brother. There’s so much wrong with the world. We just want to change it.”

“That’s why you agreed to be experimented on?”

She nods. “My turn. What did you do to the real Dr. Kovak?”

I look up sharply. How could she possibly…? Wanda doesn’t seem to want to alert the other scientists and agents of my presence so I clear my throat and straighten up. “She’s safe. I just needed intel.”

Her brow raises. “On what?”

“Can’t ask me two questions in a row, Miss Maximoff.”

“I could just… read your mind.”

“You can do that?”

Her brow quirks as an answer. “Have you been withholding information from Strucker?”

“Yes.”

I hum at her honesty. “Good. You can’t trust him.”

“And I can trust you? A strange woman who is wearing someone else’s face and clothes,” she counters.

“Compared to anyone else here? Yes.”

She is about to say something but alarms sound. I leave the cell, closing the door with a last look at Wanda. I’ll get her out, I promise myself.

“What’s happening?” I ask, tucking the tablet away.

“We’re under attack.”

“Who?” Strucker asks.

“The Avengers.”

Shit. I sneak out and hear Strucker giving out orders. I find a server room and start downloading what intel I can about HYDRA’s plans and remaining strongholds for any clue on Sergeant Barnes’s locations and slip out. Rogers doesn’t need to know I was here with no back up.

The cold air greets me as I climb out of the base and start to discreetly make my way back to the town to catch a train to the next city to catch a flight back to DC

I feel someone behind me and I sharply turn, dodging their hold and kicking them in the knee by instinct. I stop when I see who it is. But he doesn’t as he goes in for a punch, I dodge and use his shield to propel myself backwards to get some distance between us.

“Steve! Don’t sneak up on a spy like that, you’re gonna get yourself killed.” I reach a hand down and he takes it as he gets back up on both feet.

He frowns under his helmet but there is no recognition in his eyes. I remember than the veil is still on my face so I peel it off and undo my hair.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“Same as you,” I shrug.

“Did you come in with a team?” he asks concerned as he places his shield on his back. “Y/N where is your team? Did you not have back up?”

“I went in alone, okay?”

“Why would you do that?” Someone in his comms must have spoken because he turns away briefly. “I’m dealing with something but south west is clear.”

“It was just intel retrieval. Nothing big.”

“It’s you vs HYDRA, that’s not enough. Did you even have an extraction plan?”

“I was gonna take a train to Bucharest and then a plane back to DC.”

He gives me a what the fuck were you thinking look. “You ride back home with us. But for now… care to join us?”

I smirk. “How could I refuse?” We enter the compound to take down more HYDRA agents. As Steve kicks down an agent Strucker runs into us.

“Baron Strucker. Hydra’s number one thug,” Steve says, circling the man.

“Technically I’m a thug for SHIELD,” he retorts.

“Well then technically you’re unemployed. Where’s Loki’s sceptre?”

“Don’t worry, I know when I’m beat. You’ll mention how I cooperated, I hope,” he surrenders immediately. Suspiciously.

I frown and see the flowing red eyes in the shadows.

“I’ll put it right under illegal human experimentation. How many are there-”

“Cap!” I warn but it’s too late as Wanda hits him with a red surge of energy that knocks him down the stairs.

I’m ready in case Wanda comes for me but she doesn’t, just exiting the place and closing the door behind her.

“We have a second enhanced. Female. Do not engage,” Steve says into his comms as he runs back up the stairs.

“You’ll have to be faster than that–“ I hit Strucker with a disc and he convulses as he falls.

“I love those things,” I remark.

Steve chuckles then picks Strucker up. “Guys, I’ve got Strucker.”

“Want me to keep looking for the sceptre?” I offer.

He nods. “I’ll take Strucker, you find Tony. Nat and Bruce are still on the field but Thor and Clint are on the jet.” At my confused look it’s like he read my mind. “Clint got hurt. But he’ll pull through.” He turns into his comms. “Tony, Y/N’s coming to you.” Steve gives me his communicator and leaves with Strucker.

I go back to the level where the twins were to start looking for Stark.

“Mr. Stark this is Agent – well former agent Y/N L/N, are you able to give me your 20?”

“Well, I found the sceptre. Bringing it up with me now. I was at the south corridor and I found a secret doorway.” I follow where he says, remembering the map I saw on the tablet. “Nice to meet you, former agent.”

“I’m nice to meet, Mr. Stark.”

“I like you.” He taps something on his bracelet and his armour envelopes him.

“Is that it?”

“Yep. Pretty underwhelming, huh?” he seems out of breath… shaken.

“Are you alright, Stark?”

“I’m fine,” he responds all too quickly.

“Let’s get to the jet,” I follow the coordinates that Steve sent me on my phone and the Avengers are all there waiting.

Natasha smiles as she sees me. “What a surprise,” she says going in for a hug as Stark hands the sceptre to Thor and starts up the engine.

“Whatcha doin’ all the way out here?” Clint rasps.

“I could ask you the same thing old man,” I lightly joke, weary of his injury.

“Who you callin’ old? We got a thousand year old and a hundred year old on board.”

“Alright, ease up before you hurt yourself even more,” Natasha says as she gives him a sedative.

Once Clint was passed out and secure I take a seat with Nat next to me.

“So what are you doing here?” she asks.

“Same as you.”

Raising a brow she sighs. “Don’t tell me Fury’s still working you?”

“Of course he is. We have to take down the rest of HYDRA.”

“That’s our job, now.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, you’re doing great just invading countries that already hate you and wrecking historical sites. Top notch spy work.”

“Not a spy anymore, Y/N and neither are you,” she retorts.

Steve enters our conversation, standing tall with his arms crossed. “What do you mean?”

“See, you don’t even do your research before you go in. What happened to knowing your enemy?” I ask them both.

“Last I checked our enemies were people we thought were friends so I think we know them pretty well,” Steve replies.

“The two enhanced?” I counter. “What do you know about them?”

“What do you?” Stark asks.

I smirk. “So nothing?” I pull out the tablet that miraculously did not take any damage. I turn it on and find the file on the twins. “They’re called the Maximoff twins; Wanda and Pietro. They were orphaned at 10 years old when a shell hit their civilian apartment in the Novi Grad Bombings. Sokovia has been in the middle of a rebellion for years now. They don’t like you guys very much. Wanda has… special abilities. Neuroelectric interfacing, telekinesis, mental manipulation,” at confused faces I simplify. “She can move things with her mind and read yours. The latter, she has kept from Strucker.”

“So how do you know about it?” Stark asks.

“Because I spoke to her,” I shrug. “I know she can read minds because she knew I wasn’t the doctor I took the identity of.”

“You got in proximity with them?”

I nod.

“You know how dangerous that is, Y/N? You could have gotten killed, going in there like that, all alone. Did anyone else know where you were?” Steve demands.

“Okay, one, I wasn’t alone, I had my weapons.” He rolls his eyes. “Two, that’s classified.”

“There isn’t a SHIELD anymore, Y/N. Information isn’t classified.”

“Then I’m not telling.”

“Why not?” Nat asks.

“Because you’ll yell at me.”

Steve presses two fingers on the bridge of his nose and huffs, knowing the answer.

“What about the other one? Pietro?” Stark asks.

“He’s just really fast.”

We land on the helipad at Stark tower and Helen Cho and Hill take Clint to patch him up. Steve asks about Strucker and we get the news that NATO has him and it’s all in all mission accomplished.

💖

Chapter 7

Thank you for reading everyone!

[redphlox]

Touya’s "weak" constitution…or was it just unachievable standards?

I was thinking, is there any proof either Touya or Rei has a weak constitution/a weak body? We've never seen or heard of Rei being physically weak or frail. We've only ever heard her children worry about her mental state, not her physical state. We also see Dabi holding his own during battles, even if he’s burning himself. So, why did Endeavor say Touya inherited Rei's weak constitution if physically both are healthy? 

It's because Endeavor has a bias toward fire quirks and it serves as his gauge to assess someone's strength and worthiness. Look at his agency - every employee is a fire user. He doesn't employee any ice, wind, or water quirk users either, which would make a balanced team (see: Inasa and Shouto's fire tornado at the provisional licensing exam.) He never wished he had an ice quirk because he thought ice would be a useful fighting quirk to supplement his fire quirk. Instead, he wanted an ice quirk for thermoregulation and that's it. He never acknowledges Shouto's skilled ability to use his right side. It's always "SHOUTO USE YOUR LEFT SIDE" and he only ever emphasizes Shouto training Half-Hot and learning fire-related ultimate moves. Endeavor considers Shouto's right side as a convenient accessory, kind of like those 9 wee wees (first aid emergency kits) Shouto carries on his belt. Endeavor even calls Shouto an idiot for not using his fire side during his match with Sero at the sports festival when, honestly, did that battle call for fire? Shouto did fine only using his ice that time. 

Like Midoriya said, Half-Cold is only half of Shouto's power, so why would Endeavor hyperfixate on improving/training only Shouto's left side instead of all his power? It's because Endeavor wants Shouto to be a fire-only user and limit the ice to a cooling mechanism, which is Endeavor's way of living vicariously through him to become #1. You could argue that Shouto already trained Half-Cold on his own and it doesn't need more training, but would that be the mentality of someone who's been the #2 hero for over 20 years and started training his son at 5 years old to surpass a man who was in his 40's at the time? Would Endeavor say, "You can stop training Half-Cold now Shouto, you're strong enough"? He'd never say that about Half-Hot either. 

In Endeavor's eyes, the ice quirk and the body type for it are inferior. It's stated in canon that Rei doesn't like the heat, and we assume it's because of her ice quirk. Her body is suited for colder temperatures. Otherwise, she'd freeze anytime she used her quirk. But, Endeavor considers Rei and her body "weak" because she can't withstand heat, even though she's not supposed to. 

So, Touya inherited Rei's constitution, aka her body type that is built to withstand cold temperatures. But the problem as we all know is that he inherited Endeavor's flames, and anytime he uses his quirk, his body burns. So, it's not that Touya was weak, but that he wasn't blessed with the ideal genetic combination of a body that was a good match for a fire quirk, and for that Endeavor shamed him and told him he wasn't good enough, that basically Touya’s entire existence was inherently wrong.

So no, Touya isn’t weak physically. He never was weak and there was nothing wrong with his body. Having a quirk doesn't mean you have to use it - a lot of people in the manga don't use theirs. Touya was a child who didn't win the genetic lottery but was told he’d become #1 someday, but then that came crashing down once his body couldn’t keep up. It must have been damaging for him to hear he was weak and therefore lesser because of how his body was built, for something he couldn’t change and had no control over. It's like being told by your parent who has a deep tan 24/7 that you're worthless because you're albino, but you tan to gain their approval and end up with severe burns. Or, being told that your lungs are wrong because you have asthma. There’s nothing inherently “wrong” about those conditions and they don’t make that individual “weak” - it requires them to take care of themselves differently, sure, but it doesn’t make them “weak” people. There's no correlation between someone's inherent worth and their physical (dis)abilities or physical characteristics. 

But, Endeavor passes judgment and assigns value to his children on whether they have a fire quirk and whether they can use it. Like, what if Fuyumi or Natsuo have unbelievably strong ice quirks with a built in heating quirk so they won't get hypothermia or freeze, which enables them to surpass All Might? Endeavor never bothered with them though because they weren't mainly fire users and he wanted Hellflame, through his heir, to surpass All Might. 

Also, this emphasizes that Endeavor never paused to think of the repercussions of his eugenics experiments. Endeavor made a child whose body does exactly what he didn't want and even worse - overheats AND burns his own flesh. Even after he realized Touya’s existence with a mismatched body and quirk meant physical agony and harm, it didn't stop him from trying for another child with the ideal quirk even though the child's health would potentially be at risk. What if instead of the ice and fire quirks working together, they work against each other? What if it was impossible to use both symbiotically? What if Touya’s case repeated itself and every time Shouto used his fire he burned because he inherited his mom's "weak" constitution on the left side and vice versa? 

Also, this emphasizes that Endeavor only sees Shouto as primarily a fire user who has ice for cooling purposes, similar to how Early!Todoroki tried to be an ice user who sparingly used his fire quirk as a warming mechanism to thaw people and things he froze. But he's literally split down the middle - he's Half-Hot, Half-Cold. Endeavor was trying to mold his son into something his body wasn't built for too, just as he did with Touya. Endeavor was stifling Shouto by developing only his left side and reducing him to only half of his power. If Shouto hadn't trained his right side himself for combat out of spite, would Endeavor have trained it? I doubt it. It's like Endeavor was telling his ambidextrous kid to only write with his left hand when clearly learning to use both would be advantageous. 

Ironic, isn't it?

[starlighthan]

UNEXPECTED VISITS !

characters: ot8 stray kids, several original characters

genre: the umbrella academy au, sci-fi, fluff (this is more on some good ol brotherly love), a tiny bit comedy and drama

warnings: mentions of vanishment, politics-related topics (corruption and elections), few curse words

word count: 3.7k words

synopsis: let's get this straight to the point, the jeon brothers from the spade academy have to reunite after more than a decade to solve and discuss about their beloved father's disappearance. things were... messy, which was unexpected from the pride of the city of haven.

note: hi, this is officially my first work here! this is inspired by the umbrella academy because i love the series SO MUCH and thought of skz in this type of setting! since this is inspired by tua, there’d be some similarities from the show to this fic (like the handler’s existence, the kids have powers, etc.) so i hope that’d be cool... been thinking of making this an au series of some sort after a while. pls do send me some feedback too <33 not really good at writing but im willing to improve ofc! if any of you guys liked this, feel free to tell me if you want more from this concept! would love to write more on this and form some cool plots here and there. this au is kind of quick-paced, btw! so this was kind of shorter than i was expecting lmao

© starlighthan - all rights reserved. please do not copy, translate, modify, repost, or claim the plot as yours.

*i do not own the umbrella academy comics/series.*

"Hey! Where are the others?"

"They aren't here yet, Hyunjin."

The smooth voice came from Piri, the talking smart cat, who's slowly walking towards him in the hallway entrance.

The man gasped and brought the cat to his arms, "Piri! It's so good to see you, I missed you so much! How are you?"

Hyunjin's very genuine with his words. It has been almost a solid decade since the Spade Academy dispersed. The astonishing actor-scriptwriter was one of the last who left the 4 corners of the mansion.

"Never been this good for almost 10 years. It's great that you finally visited, Number 4. These halls missed you a lot."

He observed the hallway. These walls of the academy reminded Hyunjin a lot of his time when he was training day and night when he was young. The brown faded wallpapers reminded him of coffee, very bittersweet. It also reminded him how these walls are often replaced due to damage while training. He still remembers how Minho almost burned these walls and the wallpapers flew due to Changbin's speed.

Piri mirrors Hyunjin's head movements, "It has been a while, isn't it? You used to write in your diary down here."

Ah, the diary. That notebook where he records every single discovery and achievement he made while training. The pages were filled with his thoughts on his progress on shapeshifting, a portion about his father, endless ink wasted to mention his seven brothers' antics and performance during missions, and his experiences when he traveled in time.

The diary must have been somewhere in his room. He badly wanted to read and reminisce the moments he had when he was young. But all he did was bring himself to his childhood through a vortex. He didn't have time to visit the academy because of film shooting and multiple meetings.

Hyunjin scratches the cat's head. "I missed that diary. I used to update Dad's times of randomly leaving the house. Guess I should record another one later. I heard the news."

"Bet you heard the news through some reporter who interviewed you?" a voice came out from the door.

Hyunjin snickers and brings down Piri, "It's great to see you, Seungmin. Glad to know you still use your abilities. Was Father rushed to the hospital or something? Just in case he disappeared because of an emergency, you know?"

Seungmin pats Hyunjin's back and walks towards the enormous living room. "No, I would have predicted it, but it seems like Father really left. That man's so old but so immune to diseases, so I think that wouldn't happen."

Hyunjin brought out a hm and followed him.

"So, what do you think on how Father disappeared?"

Seungmin looked back at him and shrugged, "I don't know, which is kind of weird. It seems like there's something that's blocking my mind to know the info how Father got out of here."

Having the power that would help the most in this problem seemed to be unhelpful after all. Having that block in his mind to gather information probably meant that it's not that easy to know about their father's whereabouts and intentions. This has been the first time in so many years to feel that block in this head.

"This problem must be bigger than it seems, then?" The fourth child sat on the couch and opens the television.

Seungmin sits beside him, "Correct, all that I know is that we must dig deeper about Father vanishing."

All they need to do is to find clues before discovering Jeon Wonshik's plan on why he did all of this. Hopefully, the rest of their brothers would arrive and cooperate well.

When Piri was brought down by Hyunjin, he visited the library in the basement, where he found Chan reading a newspaper.

"Hello, Piri. Seems like you were the only one who noticed that I have arrived."

The cat smiled, "It's good to have you back, Number 1. Might've used the secret passageway to get here, hm?"

The man brought down the newspaper, "Yup, I think could do it now since nobody's going to scold me for using the secret passageway."

The passageway was such a great escape from reality for Chan, it's his road to escape all the pressure and suffering he experienced during his teenage years. The secret passageway either brings you to the basement's library, or a little room for hideout. This can be seen by opening the last tile at the side of their home, by the garden.

The cat jumped on the table where Chan was sitting next to, "Question though, Number 1. What do you feel about your father's disappearance?"

The question made Chan look at the cat sharply. He wasn't sure on how to answer the question. He's actually a little emotionless over it, a little numb. Father brought him and his younger brothers to endless missions that often end with a minor problem. Wounds here, injuries there, no rest at all. He always saw the problems, but he never had the guts to bring it up to anybody.

"You know, Piri, the news wasn't that surprising. Something in me was saying that this was meant to happen and maybe some of us would be okay with it." He sighed and stood to get a book from one of the wide bookshelves. "We had it rough with Dad, he always says that he's making us do these things for us to save the world, but earth isn't supposed to be peaceful all the time, right?"

He heard the cat sigh, "Look at all of us. None of us are the superheroes we once were when we were kids."

The cat looks back at Chan and walks away from him. "Chan, I do get your point. But I do hope you find the purpose why you and the kids were given these abilities. I think you would get that sooner or later." The eldest gave Piri a questioning look, not understanding what the cat last said.

A ghost showed up in front of Chan. The man groaned and brought back his newspaper right in front of his face, "I haven't summoned you yet. Why are you here?"

"You should go for a search for your father, you know? You can fly and stuff! Take a view of Haven and check some signs and tracks!" Chan isn't having anything of it right now. He just visited the Spade Academy because it's been a while since he saw his younger brothers.

"I am not going to do that, Ryu! If Father really disappeared, then let him be! I don't want to involve myself into some bullshit search. He's way too smart to reside somewhere and never be seen by anybody."

The ghost crossed her arms and muttered, "I cannot believe this man is so stubborn, he already went here and all and not willing to find his own dad."

"Ryu, I heard that! And I, or any of my brothers, are not his biological sons!"

At the top floor of the mansion was their mother and Jeongin. Jeongin's been the only one who stayed in the academy. Throughout the years, the boy did was to take care of his parents, and Piri. It was quite lonesome, too quiet for his liking. The rooms were used to be occupied by his brothers who never attempted to shut up unless their mother or father asks them to.

"Mom, were you able to see dad before he disappeared?" He held his mother's hand, concerned on how his brothers would react to the news. Pretty sure they know Jeongin was the only one who stayed.

Their mother smiled and placed her other hand on top of Jeongin's hands, smoothly caressing to ease the youngest's nervousness. "Yes, I did. Little did I know that he left. He didn't greet me in the morning, too."

Jeongin's frustrations got worse. He wasn't able to see his father before he disappeared in thin air. And now his own mother seems to be unfazed over the problem.

The man's thin gloves made his hands a little sweaty. He can't take if off no matter how he wants to feel his mother's soft skin. He doesn't want to have his mother dead in one touch, he's still weak in controlling whether to kill or heal.

All he hopes is that everything would go back to normal, Dad would come home, and the media would stop asking for interviews outside.

A strong wind was felt within the house. The short feel of coldness wasn't that foreign among the family members. It was a signal that a certain member arrived and might have sped past somewhere.

Jisung, who stood outside of the mansion, never felt the cold. He's immune to any climate anyways.

"Hey, Changbin! You ran too much!"

The speedy one heard the loud voice and stopped a few blocks from home and searched where in the world did that voice came from.

He saw Jisung wave meters away from his spot and decided to jog towards his brother.

Changbin exhaled. "Sorry about that, I still get lost around here."

"Are you serious, Changbin? You literally grew up here." Jisung scowled. He always thought how Changbin is careless with wherever he's going. Probably because he speeds out randomly every time.

Sure, Changbin unintentionally pisses people off. It's kind of weird since he could literally control people's minds but he knew he wouldn't do that to his family. No matter how he was treated in the household, he would never do anything wrong to them.

Jisung sighed, "Might I add, you are currently the congressman and will be running for senator next month. Geography's a must in politics too, Changbin. Please, for the love of-"

"Yes, yes! I know what I'm doing!" He answers.

The man with a not-so-intimidating aura because of his soft cheeks raised his eyebrow, "Are you sure you know what you're doing? I literally saw you rob money at the bank!"

Eyes wide open. Changbin didn't know about that.

He pulled Jisung towards the door and brought themselves in to the mansion. "How in the world did you know?"

Jisung smirked, "Well, I was having my lovely walk as I usually do every night. Of course, I saw you walk away from the bank with a mysterious bag. I have night vision, Changbin!"

Changbin huffed, absolutely devastated that he was caught doing one of the biggest crimes he has ever done to date aside from corruption.

"Do you think you're not caught by wearing black, sprinting, in the middle of the night?"

Jisung didn't receive any answer. He chuckled, "I'm keeping this in between the both of us. If you were caught by a different way. Don't blame me, alright?"

Changbin spaced out, not even looking at Jisung. Until now, he was tightly gripping at the doorknob after entering the academy. Knuckles white, leaned towards the door.

He felt a burning sensation on the doorknob, he yelped and scurried away from the door. Rubbing his burnt hands and Jisung looking closely at the door, a person was revealed as the entrance slowly widened.

"Oh, sorry about that." Minho sniggered.

Changbin sighed, "Of course, it's you. Should've known."

Minho chuckled, "What did you expect from me? I could've melted the knob, that'd be worse for you."

Changbin was unusually quiet once again, walking out. Jisung and Minho were left in the hallway.

Jisung grinned, "Just Changbin being moody. You literally gave him a burn; he'd be down and sad like he does every time he gets hurt."

Minho elbowed Jisung, who responded with a loud ouch, "Damn, you're so mean! Don't be so rough to your sensitive brother! He just came from a conference about our rich, eloquent, and strange father vanishing."

Jisung was surprised, opening his mouth wide like a big letter O, "Oh? He did?"

The second child nodded, "It was live on television, I was watching while frying some French fries in the diner. It was very sudden, so Changbin seemed to be very lost during the conference."

"Well, seems like he's really out of the mood today. Let's just start the meeting and finish this mystery of Dad getting invisible or something, who knows?" Jisung said while grabbing Minho's arm to pull him to the living room.

Jeongin stood at the corner of the living room, looking if the whole family's complete. Counting them one by one, he was able to count seven of them. "Seems like we're complete now."

"Eight supposedly, Felix is still on the loose?" Chan looked around, then slouch on the couch beside Hyunjin.

Changbin tilted his head, "He will never come back, Chan. It has been more than 10 years. 10 years, Chan."

Minho cocked his head to Changbin's direction, "Let the man hope, everything is possible."

"Besides, Seungmin knows Felix is out there. He'll show up when he feels like doing it. Right, Seungmin?" He then looked towards Seungmin, who shrugged as response.

"Seriously?" Minho scowled, "Well, at least we know Felix is somewhere here on Earth. He's still alive."

"Yeah, right. He's obviously an immortal, Minho," Hyunjin pointed out.

Chan sighed, "You guys, he hated the fact that he's an immortal. Let's stop it until there, please."

Felix often opens up to Chan when he was still training in the academy. Chan understood Felix so much that he was so protective until the point he couldn't let Felix go. Felix left more than 10 years ago, it was unknown where he went but it was obvious to Chan and his brothers why he escaped the hellhole called the Spade Academy.

Felix never liked the idea that he was immortal, he'd rather be a normal being than have this ability to stay throughout so many eras and evolutions of this world. If he had any ability, he would pick anything but be an immortal.

"Whatever you say, bro. Let's get onto why we're here," Jisung smiled.

Minho immediately groaned, "I just came here to see you guys, not for Dad!"

"Aw, that's so sweet of you. But we're here to find Dad." Seungmin smiled sarcastically to Minho, who rolled his eyes.

"Uh, is it more like know why Dad is missing first? Finding Dad might take a long time before knowing why he vanished." Jeongin stifled a laugh.

Seungmin playfully stick his tongue out, "Okay, smarty-pants! How are we going to know why Dad went missing?"

"We will never know, maybe Father already knows what he has done to us and leave us for good- okay, okay, Hyunjin! He wouldn't do that!" Chan said while Hyunjin hits his arm.

Jisung grinned, "Thanks, Hyunjin. Should Chan try summoning Dad's ghost? Just in case Dad's dead?"

Chan's eyes widened, "Who said I should summon Father's soul? I would summon any ghost but not Father's!"

Changbin sighed, crossing his arms. "This isn't going to end well."

"It would end well if we are serious, guys. Nobody's going to investigate about this but us. The city's gonna talk about us because we're the only ones who are directly related to Father," Minho emphasized, leaning forward to get his cup of tea on the coffee table.

Seungmin eyed Changbin, "Exactly. We don't want Changbin to withdraw for elections because of a mystery that we'll never get to solve, right?"

"Your corrupt ass should really withdraw though, honestly," Hyunjin grimaced.

Changbin suddenly stands up, in defense. Minho and Jisung hold his arms tightly in case of physical fights. "Huh, do you think you can say that because you're a handsome, international actor?"

Jeongin groans, "Can we just stop it? Let's not make Changbin a victim in all of these 'teasing' for now."

"Yeah, right! Stop it! I literally ran here from the House of Representatives for you guys, gosh. Give me a break!" Changbin shakes arms away from Minho and Jisung, slowly sits down back to the couch.

This is the norm of the Jeon brothers. They never changed. The boys used to be serious in conversations but also take it lightly. They do know each other after all. They know what pricks the other.

Silence fell among the seven. The air is filled with comfort, and a little bit of awkwardness. Kind of lost in where and how to start this dilemma they're dealing with. It is all surprising, anyways. They badly need some deep thinking for this.

They often struggled when it terms to Wonshik. Whether that's a dinner with him, some serious discussion with him in his office, and the usual training they do every day. Some of them weren't okay with him, some of them were, but the never ending weight they deal with with their Dad is sometimes uncomfortable. It felt like carrying a big safe every day, and you'll be able to bring it down and open it to discover your worth at the end of the day.

They were just teenagers, still learning about their abilities, clueless about life, and unsure about their future. Wonshik's intentions for the kids to be prepared for the worst is there, but it was all too much for the seven.

Chan was the one who broke the silence, "Jeongin, have you seen Father before he left?"

The youngest gulped, "No, but Mom did. I was staying somewhere else in the last few days."

"Mom saw dad before he vanished? Wasn't she able to stop Dad?" Hyunjin glanced at Jeongin. Seungmin was scratching his head out of desperation, trying to get more answers from this and connect his mind.

"Jeongin was going to say that Mom seemed to be very clueless that she didn't know that Dad's not coming back." Everybody looked at Seungmin.

Minho stood up, went on his way to open the long curtains near them. "How many days has it been since Father left?"

Chan gently grabbed his glass water, drinking it quickly. "The thing is that nobody knows. See, even Mother didn't know when Father left. Everybody knew when he was reported missing."

"Huh? That's so weird, though." Jisung wondered, leaning back to the couch.

A faint trace of irritation appeared on Changbin's face, "That's nuts. Who the fuck would report that Father's missing if nobody knows how long he's been missing already?

"This must be some supernatural or magical shit that's happening, it's kind of scary," an uneasy laugh came from Jisung.

Jeongin unconsciously said something out loud while tugging the drawstrings of his jacket, "Do you guys think that Father set this all up?"

Hyunjin hummed, "That's possible."

"It could be, but isn't Father that type who'll never let anybody know about his personal agendas?"

Jisung answered Chan's question, "Yeah, that old man literally keeps secrets from us, even Mom and Piri!"

Groaning, Minho suggested, "The best thing we could do now is do something to know about his disappearance. We'll need those traces and signs from Father. He does leave a sign to us for a lot of things before."

There was a quick silence once again before Chan shared his part, "I'm not gonna summon Father's soul, but I might fly around Haven to find some traces. Maybe he left something for us somewhere."

He then sees Ryu at the corner of the room, sticking her tongue. Chan teased her by doing the same. "Told you so. You needed it," the ghost mouthed.

Changbin hummed, "Great idea. I'll join you, I might find nothing if all I do is speed up."

"I could threaten some people who have relations with Father for some information. Should I give it a try?" Minho asked.

Jeongin beamed, "Yes! That might be crazy but burn them alive if they keep any secrets from us, yeah? I would accompany you in case you... you accidentally fire up somebody, you know?" He scratched his head.

"Hey, Jisung! I'm inviting you to accompany me to travel back in time! Gonna stalk Father when he used to go out of the academy randomly. Heard he went to the snowy mountains or something before," Hyunjin pointed at Jisung to get his attention.

Jisung nodded, "That'd be cool! Haven't touched snow in a while."

He then cluelessly looked at Seungmin, "How about you?"

Seungmin blinked a few times before he uttered a response, "Seems like you guys are going in pairs, might as well do this alone. I have to work out on how to remove this invisible block in my head that hinders me from knowing all about this."

The brothers nodded, Seungmin's issue seems to be resolved by him only. He often depends to himself anyways with internal conflicts, and the boys trust him on that.

"This is settled, then. We'll start soon, right?" Chan stood from his seat, the others followed.

Jisung nodded energetically, "Yup! Now that we're actually doing some adventure, this seems to be exciting! Let's go!"

"This was quicker than I expected, very miraculous," Seungmin giggled.

The jumpy and lively boy went for a zoom to the door, which made the rest laugh over his weirdness. Jisung was always the one who lightens the mood of the family if it was needed. And every time he tries, it works very well.

The boys let Jisung go for a headstart, following him when he reached the end of the hallway entrance.

Laughs were filled in the hallway until Jisung muttered an uh-oh.

Changbin raised an eyebrow when Jisung stiffened, "Hey, what's with you? What's going on?"

Jisung turned his back to face his brothers, showing them the opened letter that he found in front of the mansion's door.

"Uh, hey bros! Heh, I feel like we're gonna make things worse."

Chan walked towards Jisung to gently get the paper from him and read the letter out loud.

“The Spade Academy,

All you have is a week before you get to know your father's whereabouts. Mass destruction will come if you are unable to complete the task. 

A lot would be affected by your progress at the end of the 7th day, including a beloved family member of yours.

Hoping this short notice would help.

Sincerely,

Shin Youngja

Handler, The Commission”