#and my best is apparently /not enough/ to make a dent

[spaceshipkat]

.

[softspiderling]

hooked from hour one | j.h.s.

Summary: He watched as Rooster took you around, introducing you to everyone and Jake’s eye twitched. The two of you looked awfully comfortable around each other, with tons of physical contact. You and Jake hadn’t been dating long, but he thought that you were on the same stage as him when it concerned your relationship. Were you cheating on Rooster with him? But you wouldn’t do that, right?

or, the one where you share a mutual friend, but are unaware of it

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin x reader

warnings: contains smut, minors dni

word count: 6,4k

author's note: omg this beast!!!! So glad to be finally able to share this with you! Been thinking and writing this fic for so long and I think I am finally happy with it now! Mind you, this will kickstart a verse, aptly called wingman's best friend (more on that later). Pls pls don't forget to leave a nice comment/reblog if you liked it, it would mean the world to me!!

From the moment Jake had stepped into the bar, he had his eyes on you. The way you were sipping on your drink, your fingers around the straw, the way you threw your back in laughter as your friend said something, the way you raised an eyebrow at every man that tried to hit on you and your friends.

Absolutely captivating.

Initially, Jake hadn’t planned on taking anyone home, just wanting to have a drink by himself, but he quickly changed his mind when he saw you. He wasn’t sure on how to approach you at first, however. Jake was usually a hit with the ladies and the gentlemen, but your confidence and the way you shot about just every man down that even stepped in your vicinity clearly put a dent in his confidence. He wasn’t about to ask you out just to be rejected. He had to play it smart.

“I got another whiskey on the rocks for you,” the bartender suddenly said, sliding the drink across the counter, the ice cube clinking against the glass.

“I haven’t even finished my first,” Jake answered, somewhat confused and the bartender swung a towelette over his shoulder, tilting his head to the right. 

“It’s from the lady over there.”

And sure enough, you leaned back into Jake’s sight, raising your glass at him and he actually flushed, nodding at you in gratitude. It didn’t take long until you excused yourself to your friends, pushed your chair back and made your way over to Jake, a grin on your face. 

“You know, I’ve got to give it you. You managed to get my attention without disrupting my friends and I,” you told him, taking a seat next to him.

“Well, you didn’t look like you wanted to be interrupted,” Jake said easily, swirling the whiskey around in the glass. He kept his tone light, even though he was buzzing underneath his skin. Jake couldn’t really put a finger on what exactly it was about you that made him so nervous. But you did. 

And it was different than talking to the people Jake just wanted to take home. He didn’t just want to take you home. He wanted to take you home and keep you there. Which kind of made him sound insane since he just met you like five minutes ago.

“Good call. It definitely makes you more likable already.” You leaned your elbow on the counter turning to your side to look at him, drinking him in. When you told him your name, he was sure it burned into his brain, never to be forgotten. 

“Jake Seresin.”

“So, Jake. What’s someone like you doing drinking by yourself?”

“I was feeling restless at home, so I thought I’d come out here for a drink. Friends were all busy so I came alone. You’re welcome to join me, though,” Jake suggested and you only smiled, as if you knew something he didn’t. Sliding a piece of paper to him, you pushed your chair back, leaving Jake puzzled. 

“I am busy tonight. But you can give me a call, if you're lucky I am free.”

With that, you joined your girlfriends, who were standing by the door, clearly laughing at him. Jake guffawed at first, staring at your number on the counter and back to you. Winking, you exited the bar and Jake only huffed out a laugh. 

Well, apparently he wasn’t taking anyone home. At least not tonight. You really got him good.

///

After Jake called you, not even 24 hours after you first met, you had your first date at a nice restaurant he picked. One date quickly turned into two, three, seven? Jake wasn’t sure. He stopped counting by the time you had turned up on his doorstep with a pizza on a random Monday evening. And it’s been nice. Really nice even. He couldn’t remember the last time he enjoyed another person’s company so much. Right now, you were standing in his kitchen, trying to figure out dinner. 

“Can you help me chop up the veggies? If you have a second cutting board,” you said, halving the cherry tomatoes. Jake complied, pulling another cutting board out of the cupboard, taking the leafy greens - bok choy he presumed - out of the water. With narrowed eyes, he reached for the knife, his eyes never leaving the cherry tomatoes.

“What’s your problem now?” you asked with a sigh, dropping the tomato, the knife still in your hand as you looked up at him, clearly exasperated. 

“... I don’t like tomatoes.”

“My god Jake, don’t be such a baby.” You rolled your eyes at the minor inconvenience, but Jake made a sound that suspiciously sounded like a whine. Your head was turned away but he could tell you were laughing by the way your body was shaking. 

“You didn’t seem to mind them on your pizza.”

“That’s different,” Jake argued, cutting the butt off of the bok choy. “That’s marinara sauce. Not tomatoes.”

“Is it a texture thing or a taste thing?” you wanted to know, pouring the halved cherry tomatoes in the bowl, checking on the shrimps in the stock. 

“It’s a tomato thing,” he sniffed and you muttered under your breath. Jake was sure it was profanities. 

“I’m not going to leave it out of the soup, but I won’t put that many in your bowl, okay? Will you at least try it?”

You had put the wooden spoon down, hands wrapped around his bicep and with the way you were looking at him, Jake was sure he’d do anything you would ask him too. 

“Fine,” he grumbled, begrudgingly, his frown only disappearing slightly when you kissed his cheek, returning your attention to the stove. He watched as you put the finishing touches on dinner, only grimacing slightly as the tomatoes were added. 

As you plated the bowls, Jake ripped open the package of chopsticks you brought, guessing correctly that he did not have them in his drawer, setting the table as well as he could. You brought the two steaming bowls to the table and sat down, looking at him. 

“Go on, try it.”

Jake somewhat clumsily picked up the noodles with the chopsticks, draping them on the spoon before adding a tomato, with a pointed look in your direction, before putting it in his mouth, humming in surprise. 

“The tomato is actually not that bad,” he admitted and you danced  in your chair in victory. 

“Told you so,” you gushed, digging into your own bowl. The two of you spent the next couple of minutes in silence, with the occasional slurp by Jake, not having mastered eating with chopsticks quite just yet. 

“You know when you offered to cook dinner, I was expecting something like chicken alfredo or some steak and gravy, not shrimp tom yum,” Jake said in between bites and you chuckled, placing your chopsticks on the bowl. 

“There’s nothing wrong with pasta or steak. I love that, but if you have it for lunch and dinner every day, you quickly get tired of it, trust me. When my best friend and I used to live together, I was the one cooking for like 90% of the time because Brad is a disaster in the kitchen.”

Jake paused, the name sounding somewhat familiar, but it quickly moved to the back of his head as your story progressed.

“I got tired of pasta, so I just started looking for more recipes, branching out a bit. And it’s definitely come in handy, I never have to wonder what I should cook for dinner,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. 

“That probably takes a lot of stress off your shoulders. I mostly eat on b- work. I eat at work,” Jake corrected himself quickly and you narrowed your eyes at him. “So I don’t really cook that often.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but apparently decided against it when you closed it again, finishing your dinner. After the two of you were done, you left Jake to do the dishes, not even fighting him on it as he offered to do it, instead making yourself comfortable on the couch. 

When Jake was done, he walked to the living room, pausing in the doorway as he wiped his hands off, watching you tapping on your phone. “You know, “ he started, kneeling on the couch, “other people would fight me to do the dishes.”

“I made dinner,” you pointed out, looking at him with raised brows. “Quid pro quo.”

“I was kidding, I would’ve cooked for you if you had let me,” Jake needled, trailing his hands up your leg and you only watched, amused. 

“Anything I can help you with, mister?”

“I was just wondering if you had planned anything for dessert…” Jake hummed, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts, the other hand ghosting over the buttons. “Otherwise I have some ideas.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked, your eyes dark, and Jake could tell that you were getting antsy. “What’s on the menu?”

“You.”

Jake scooped you up, throwing you over his shoulder, having you squeal, as he carried you into his bedroom, throwing you on the bed, not very gentleman-like. 

You didn’t seem to mind. 

As with everything Jake did, he didn’t waste any time, flicking the buttons of your pants open before he pulled them down swiftly, leaving you in your underwear. You propped yourself up on your elbows, and Jake looked up at you with a smirk before he literally buried his face in your pussy. 

Using his hands to lift your thighs, Jake took his sweet time licking in between your folds and hearing you gasp was music to his ears. Pushing closer against you, he hitched one of your legs over his shoulder, plunging his tongue into you. 

“Oh god, Jake!”

Your hands had found their way into his hair, tugging, not quite so hard that it was painful, but enough that it made him fuck you with his tongue even harder. The way you moaned over him drove him crazy and he grunted into you. His cock was uncomfortably straining against his jeans, but he was determined to make you come first, so he kept swirling his tongue against the bundle of your nerves until you were shaking. 

“I’m close,” you writhed out and Jake detected a hint of surprise in your voice. He was tempted to ask about it, to tease, but at this point it would be kind of mean and he was pretty sure he’d regret it, so he filed it away for later. 

Applying a bit more pressure, while holding the same rhythm, Jake swirled his tongue around you, lifting his eyes just at the right moment when you fell apart, your whole body shaking as you did. 

Satisfied, Jake pulled away from you, biting his lower lip with his teeth, a shit-eating grin on his face after having made you come like that. Your chest was heaving as you recovered from your orgasm, eyes shut. 

“I was that good, huh?”

“Shut up,” you muttered with a huff, dragging him up next to you so you could kiss him, while your hands were steadfastly busy with undoing his belt. Jake’s mouth was still glistening with you, but you didn’t seem to mind, as you eagerly kissed him. When you finally undid his pants, you wasted no time, immediately wrapping your hands around his cock and Jake moaned into your mouth, while you lazily jerked him off, hand slick from his pre-cum. 

“‘m gonna ride you,” you mumbled against his lips, and he merely grunted in agreement, his hand reaching for your shirt, before he pulled it off over your head, tossing it somewhere on the floor. Throwing your leg over his waist, you straddled him, his cock just barely touching your ass. Jake reached up to unclasp your bra, sliding it off your arms and you pulled on his shirt impatiently. 

With a laugh, despite his rock-hard cock, Jake took off his shirt and you immediately put your hands all over him, groaning. 

“God, you’re literally sex on legs.”

“You know I really ought to eat your pussy more often if it gets you like this,” Jake grinned and you huffed, fingers brushing over his abs. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Jake.”

Leaning your hands on his chest, you bent down to kiss him, while one hand reached down to guide his cock against your entrance and Jake’s eyes fluttered shut in pleasure when he was engulfed by your warm walls. 

“Oh fuck me…” you sighed, throwing your head head, adjusting to his length and Jake’s eyes fluttered open, smiling lazily at you. 

“That’s the plan, if you’d start moving,” Jake said with a slap on your side and you glared at him, before you started to move, your eyes rolling to the back of the head. He’d never get tired of this sight, watching you fuck yourself on his cock with so much pleasure. Grunting when your nails started digging into his abs, he reached up to cup your breast, his mouth salivating. You laid your hand over his and squeezed; when your eyes fluttered open, staring directly at him, he nearly came then and there. 

“Jesus fuck, you’re killing me,” Jake choked out, dragging you off his cock. Before you could start complaining, however, he already had you on your back, lining up against you, and plunging in, making you moan. 

The sounds that filled his bedroom were obscene and he’d feel guilty for his neighbors, if he actually cared. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss, as he pounded into you, which apparently wasn’t enough for you, judging by your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in deeper. 

“Harder,” you moaned against his mouth and he’d roll his eyes if he wasn’t enjoying himself so much. Of course he obliged. Your moans turned into cries of pleasure and Jake leaned his head on your shoulder as he thrusted into you, biting at your neck. 

“Are you going to come for me, hm?” He whispered against your skin, the sound of his cock driving in and out of you, constant. “You going to come all over my cock?”

“Yesyesyesyes,” you whined, your back arching when the second orgasm hit you, your entire body shaking. 

Jake followed quickly after, spilling his cum inside of you with your name on his lips. Carefully pulling out, he rolled to the side, as the two of you caught your breath. He pressed a soft kiss to your side, before he reluctantly stood up, knowing he’d needed to clean up, grabbing a towel from the bathroom. Kneeling in between your legs, he carefully wiped you off, making you hiss. 

“Sensitive!” 

“Sorry,” Jake said, not feeling sorry at all, wiping himself off as well before tossing the towel in the hamper, curling around you. A comfortable silence fell over you as Jake drew circles into your skin. 

“So…” Jake started, drawling a bit. “You sounded a bit… Surprised when you came the first time.”

Jake could literally see you rolling your eyes, even though you had your back to him. 

“No one has ever made me come with their tongue before,” you then said and Jake inhaled sharply, feeling a sense of pride and also possessiveness at your words. Pulling you a bit closer, he nipped at your neck, smiling. 

“Where’s my award then?”

You rolled in his arms so quickly, Jake had barely time to react, and that was saying something. In a matter of seconds, you were back on top of him, giving him a devilish smile. Jake gulped at the sight of you, his cock half-hard again already. 

“I was trying to give you some time to recover, but if you’re so eager…”

A few seconds later, you had your mouth wrapped around his cock and he was seeing stars like he was flying at night.

///

With a sigh, Jake pulled the helmet from his head, shaking out his hair. The squadron’s been testing out some new planes for the past weeks and today Jake very much experienced the limits of those planes. He couldn’t even wait for the others and headed straight to the changing rooms, putting his helmet in its designated space on his way. Unzipping his flight suit, he let it drop around his waist, stilling when he passed his locker. Without thinking for too long, he opened the locker, reaching for his phone. 

Sweets: hey

Sweets: idk if I can do dinner tonight, work’s been tough

Sweets: don’t be mad

Furrowing his brow, Jake was disappointed you’d cancel dinner so last minute, especially because you’ve been looking forward to the reservation for like a week. So you must be really down, then. Jake bit his lip, thinking for a second before he decided to call you, phone already ringing against his ear. 

“Hello?”

You sounded small, exhausted. Jake’s never heard you like this and he wasn’t sure if he liked it. What happened to make you, someone who was so inexcusably bright and happy all the time, sound so… Down?

“Hey. It’s me. Are you okay?”

You laughed, though it didn’t sound very happy. “Um, no. Not really. I’m sorry I had to cancel so last minute, I was really looking forward to eating there.”

“No, no. It’s completely fine, don’t worry about it,” Jake looked up when the door to the changing rooms opened, and Javy stepped in. Jake shushed him with a finger on his mouth, turning his phone the other way. “I could maybe pick up some food there and come to your place afterwards. How does that sound?”

Javy raised an eyebrow at him and Jake laid his palm over his mouth. 

“That actually sounds good. Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later.”

“You’re the best.”

Javy side-eyed him as Jake hung up the phone, stuffing it back into the locker. Jake didn’t say anything as he stripped out of his flight suit, but he could feel Javy’s eyes staring at the back of his head. 

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

Javy rolled his eyes. “Didn’t know that things were getting serious with the bar girl. That was her, wasn’t it?”

“She has a name,” Jake pointed out and Javy sighed. “She’s not feeling very well and she has been looking forward to that restaurant for like a week. It’s not a big deal.”

“I know it’s not. I was just surprised. I am happy for you, man.”

Javy squeezed Jake’s shoulder and he huffed, hiding his smile before shrugging his hand off of him. God, Javy was so nosy sometimes. Jake knew he only had good intentions but he was pretty sure that Javy was going to pull a stupid stunt like give you the shovel talk when he’d introduce you to him. After Jake showered, he got dressed and drove to the restaurant to pick up several things from the menu. Packed with two take-away bags, Jake made his way over to your place, knocking gently on your door. 

There was some shuffling on the other side of the door before it opened, revealing you. You gave him a small smile and Jake put all the bags in one hand, wrapping his arm around you and pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. He realized that it was very much a boyfriend move, but a kiss on the lips just didn’t seem appropriate, and he didn’t just not want to kiss you. So a forehead kiss it was.  

“Come on, I already set the table,” you said, pulling him inside and grabbing the bags from his hands. While Jake took his shoes off, you put the take away boxes on the table, opening the pizza box before sitting down. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” 

“Just water is fine.”

Jake walked to the kitchen, opening the fridge to grab a water bottle for you, stilling when he saw a six pack of his favorite beer standing in the corner. Breathing out a laugh, he grabbed a beer for himself and a water bottle for you, getting back to the table. If you noticed the beer in his hand, you didn’t say anything so neither did he. 

///

Sweets: you up for a movie tonight? the new marvel movie looks great

Jake: what’s marvel?

Sweets: you’re joking right?

Jake: no

Jake stared at the small ellipses that kept popping up and disappearing, meaning that he had just riled you up on another level. Obviously he knew what Marvel was, Fanboy recently took the whole squadron out for the new Spider-Man movie when it came out. You couldn’t be friends with Fanboy and not know Marvel. When five minutes had passed, and the ellipses were still there, Jake decided to let you off the hook.

Jake: I was kidding. Of course I know what Marvel is.

Sweets: i hate you.

Snorting, Jake fingers flew over the screen of his phone as he replied to you, tensing when he heard steps coming towards him. Quickly, he slipped the phone into the pocket of his flight suit, only to relax again, realizing who it was. 

“Who’s got you smiling at your phone like a fool?”

“None of your business,” Jake said lightly, reaching for his phone again, the message to you still unfinished. Jake leaned away when Rooster tried peeking on the screen, but apparently he saw enough.

“You didn’t tell me you had a girl!”

“You never asked.”

“She must be a saint to be putting up with you,” Rooster joked and Jake huffed, a fond smile on his face. 

“You have no idea.”

“Hey, why don’t you bring her around for my birthday?” Rooster asked and Jake smirked, already having thought of it. “I think all of us would like to meet the girl who can tame you down into a puppy.”

Honestly, Jake wasn’t sure if you’d actually wanted to meet his friends. Were you at that point to meet each other’s friends yet? Is that where the relationship was headed? 

“Watch it, Rooster,” Jake bellowed, though without any heat. “And I was actually thinking about bringing her, but I think she’s busy.”

“Aw, that’s too bad. But bring her around for drinks sometime?”

“We’ll see. I don’t want to chase her off by introducing her to you group of ragtags too soon.”

“Introducing who to us?”

Jake groaned when the rest of the squadron joined, Phoenix raising a meticulously groomed brow at him. 

“Ooooh, does Jake have a girlfriend?” Halo teased and Jake rolled his eyes, brushing her hand off his shoulders. 

“You know, now that you mention it, he has been constantly glued to his phone and ditching us instead of coming to the bar,” Payback hummed in thought, throwing his arm over Jake’s neck. “I thought we were friends.”

“Friends may be a bit of an exaggeration.”

“Don’t tease him, he’s a man in love.”

Jake couldn’t help the flush on his cheeks and everyone started hooting. He threw a dirty look at Javy, his supposed best friend, who definitely will be demoted to friend, soon if he didn’t stop airing out his dirty laundry. Jake looked at Rooster, for some type of support, but the other man only shrugged with his shoulders, having the time of his life. 

“Just for this, I will bring her around even later than I already planned to,” Jake huffed. “Now come on, I have time for one drink before I go meet her.”

For the entire time Jake was at the Hard Deck, the squadron continued teasing him. Jake was annoyed, but he knew that you would love this. God, the worst thing is, you’d probably fit right in with the people Jake called his friends. When he finally announced his departure, they all yelled at him to send regards to you and that they would meet you soon. With a head-shake, Jake made his way home, changing into his civvies and drove over to your place. 

You were already standing out by the sidewalk, climbing into his car when he pulled to a stop. 

“Hi.”

Leaning over, you kissed him sweetly on the lips, before dropping your hands in your lap. “Thanks for driving.”

“Sure thing.”

You spent the entire drive to the movie theater talking about your day, without mentioning your jobs, and exchanged theories about the new Marvel movie. At the movie theater, you did the old dance and grab of paying for the tickets, with Jake paying and accepting defeat when you slapped your card out for the drinks and popcorn. 

During the movie, Jake spent most of it staring at you, instead of the screen and he realized how right Javy was. He’d got it bad for you. After the post-credit scenes have rolled, you turned to him to say how his theory was so wrong, only to find him already looking at you. 

“What?”

“Do you wanna spend the night?”

Caught by surprise by his, admittedly, very random question, you pursed your lips in thought, before nodding. “Sounds good. But I need to eat, I’m starving.”

“We can’t have that, now, can we,” Jake drawled, grabbing his hand and pulling you up. “Come on, I know a pretty good taco place.”

The taco place was on the way to Jake’s house and it wasn’t anything special, really. It didn’t even have tables, so you and Jake had to eat your tacos by the curb of the parking lot the taco truck was parked in. 

“My friends were hassling me about meeting you today,” Jake told you, wiping his hands with the napkins and you raised a brow at him, swallowing the food in your mouth before answering.

“Were they now? And what did you tell them?”

“I said that they can meet you when I deem them worthy enough.”

Snorting out a laugh, you shook your head, throwing the last of your taco in your mouth. You shoved his forehead gently, which was kind of demeaning, but Jake smirked at you, wrapping his arm around you. 

“They told me to bring you around tomorrow-”

“You know I’m busy, I already told you,” you cut in and he gave you a look. 

“Yes, I know. I was listening to you.”

“Good.”

You got to your feet, dragging Jake with you. “Come on, let’s go.”

Jake took you home, and while it was a bit odd to have you with him while he got ready for bed, it wasn’t something that he couldn’t imagine getting used to. But when you crawled under the blankets of his bed, Jake had to pause a bit, that image burning in his head.

When Jake woke up the next morning, he felt your warmth pressing into his body and he smiled before he could even open his eyes. 

“I can literally feel you staring at me,” you mumbled into his chest, leaning back to blearily look at him, your brows furrowed.

So definitely not a morning person then. Noted.

“You must definitely still be asleep then, because I am definitely not staring at you.”

Huffing, you buried your face in the crook of his neck again, groaning. “What time is it?”

Jake reached for his phone, squinting his eyes at the bright screen in the otherwise dark room. He usually liked to keep his curtains only partially drawn to get woken up with the sun rise, but you had vehemently complained against it when you got in bed the night before.

“Ten-ish.”

With that, you started stretching like a cat, almost taking Jake’s eye out in the process. You sat up, wiping your eyes and you had to be the most adorable fucking thing he’s ever laid eyes on. “Do you want to get breakfast before I have to go home? I need to run some errands before I head over to my best friend’s tonight.”

“Sounds like a plan, sweets.”

The two of you got dressed, and got ready in the bathroom, and Jake merely watched you in the mirror as you blinked, brushing your teeth. 

“How many cups of coffee do you need before you’re actually awake?”

“Ask me again after I’ve had my first cup,” you mumbled, mouth full of toothpaste. 

When you were finally done, Jake draped your button up over your shoulder, before herding you to the car, driving to the closest breakfast diner. Luckily, it wasn’t that full and Jake managed to find a booth, quickly flagging down a waitress to order. It was nice out, the sun out and bright, though there was still quite a morning chill. 

You leaned your head against his shoulder as you sipped on your coffee, sighing softly, having opted to sit next to him, instead of on the other side of the booth. 

“You know, I get it now.”

“Get what?”

“Why you never wanted to sleep over. You’re almost like a kitten, all small and complacent.”

Glowering, you side-eyed him. 

“You wanna say that again after I’ve finished this cup?”

Biting back a laugh, he wrapped his arm around you, pressing a firm kiss on your temple. “There she is.”

You finished breakfast while occasionally swiping at each other before you paid the bill, raising a brow at Jake, daring him to fight her for it. He didn’t. 

This time. 

Twenty minutes later, Jake’s truck rolled to a stop in front of your apartment building and you unbuckled from your seat. 

“Hey, before you go,” he stopped you, grabbing your hand gently. “What do you think about coming out for a drink with me and my friends sometime?”

You tilted your head at him, a small smile on your face. Jake actually got nervous the longer you took to answer, but you instead grabbed him by the nape of his neck, pulling him over the console for a kiss, in which Jake nearly lost himself, before you leaned away, biting your lip. 

“I’d like that.”

Climbing out of the car, you gave him one last smile, before you shut the door, heading inside your building. Jake couldn’t help but chuckle at himself, shaking his head and making the drive back home. He spent the rest of the day doing some paperwork he had been pushing off, trying to get the rest of the squadron to not completely escalate regarding Rooster’s birthday present and occasionally texting you. When it rolled around seven pm, Jake got changed and made his way over to an old hangar of Penny’s dad, where Rooster was holding the party. 

“Awe, you didn’t bring your girl?” Halo immediately asked when he got out of his car, having waited with Javy by the parking lot. 

“No. And seeing you prowling around here like this, I’m glad I didn’t,” Jake replied dryly, patting Javy on the back before they walked inside the hangar. 

“You can’t blame Halo. You’ve been holding out on your mysterious girl for so long, the suspense is literally killing us.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Javy,” Jake sighed, plucking his aviators off his nose. “You’ll meet her when you meet her. Now come on, Rooster’s over there.”

They broke up Rooster and Maverick, whose eyes were suspiciously misty, to embrace the other aviator.

“Hey man, happy birthday,” Jake said, hugging him tightly, clapping his back. “Let’s hope that this year’s finally the year where you shave off that mustache of yours, yeah?”

Rooster beamed at him, apparently having a few beer intus already, his cheeks red. 

“Yeah yeah, Hang. I know you love me. I’m glad you came.”

Soon, the hangar filled with the rest of the squadron, Payback and Fanboy bringing in Rooster’s birthday gift - an entire cardboard box full of the most brightly colored hawaiian shirts they could find, and yes, Jake was outvoted - and they were currently trying to see how many shirts Rooster was able to put on before he’d suffocate. 

With a fond shake of his head, Jake grabbed a beer from the cooler, snapping the bottle cap off. He was glad to have found this team. Before the mission, he only had Javy, and occasionally Halo, whenever she was stateside. Jake wasn’t sure what it would’ve looked like to you, if he was only able to introduce to you one and half friends, because he just didn’t have more. This was better. 

Pulling another swig from his beer, Jake checked his phone for any new messages from you - nothing - when there was a commotion by the front. Jake couldn’t see exactly what it was through the crowd, but then Rooster emerged with a huge grin, holding a cake in the shape of a… Was that a rooster in a Hawaiian shirt? 

Someone clearly had a good taste in humor. 

Rooster placed the cake on the table before wrapping his arms around a girl, the one who brought the cake presumably, and kissed her soundly on the cheek. She looked vaguely familiar and Jake furrowed his brows, staring at her, until recognition dawned on his face. 

It was you. 

He watched as Rooster took you around, introducing you to everyone and Jake’s eye twitched. The two of you looked awfully comfortable around each other, with tons of physical contact. You and Jake hadn’t been dating long, but he thought that you were on the same stage as him when it concerned your relationship, especially after last night. Were you cheating on Rooster with him? But you wouldn’t do that, right?

And Rooster hadn’t mentioned dating anyone, has he? Or was Jake just not listening again?

By the time Rooster finally brought you around, Jake was crawling out of his skin, not missing the fact how your eyebrows rose up, before you shook your head, smirking. Jake was barely listening when Rooster introduced you.

“... this is Hangman. This one shoved Jeremy Maguire into a bush of roses when he tried to steal my scooter and we’ve been best friends ever since.”

Blinking, Jake stared at you, not having processed the information just yet, while you only peered at him, mouthing Hangman? at him.

“Hi, nice to meet you, Hangman,” you drawled and Jake furrowed his brows in confusion. Childhood best friends? he mouthed instead.

Rooster, however, was completely oblivious to your exchange. “I’d tell you not to hit on her, but I know you wouldn’t be able to handle her, so you better watch out,” he told Jake, before turning to you. “I’ll go grab some plates and a knife for the cake. Are you okay?”

“Yeah yeah, go on, B,” you said, waving him off. Rooster pecked you on the cheek, nodding at Jake before disappearing into the back of the hangar. 

You, on the other hand, turned your full attention to Jake, crossing your arms. “So. Hangman, huh?”

Jake sighed in exasperation, finishing the last of his beer. You watched, and Jake, checking over his shoulder that everyone was otherwise busy, grabbed you by the arm, dragging you outside the hangar. You leaned against the wall, a smirk dancing on your lips.

“Your best friend Brad is Rooster?”

“It’s not like you didn’t know his name is Bradley, Jake,” you shot back, jabbing his chest. “You should have told me that you’re flying for the Navy.”

In hindsight, Jake probably should’ve been able to put two and two together. Now that he thought about it, there were so many instances where you were basically screaming at him that Rooster was your best friend.

Small world indeed.

“You didn’t want to know!”

“God, I should’ve been able to tell with that ego of yours,” you sighed and Jake snorted. 

“Didn’t seem to mind my ego last night.”

You rolled your eyes at him and god you were so beautiful when you were annoyed. Brushing his hand up your arm, Jake fixed the strap of your dress.

“You look nice.”

Scoffing, you fixed him with a look that Jake knew meant that you were unimpressed. Straightening his shirt, you batted your eyelashes at him. 

“What does Hangman even stand for?”

Jake smirked broadly. “You’ve seen me naked. You know what it stands for.”

“Fucking naval aviators will be the death of me,” you muttered before dragging him in closer, pressing your lips on his. Jake groaned quietly, kissing you back while one hand cupped your cheek, the other resting on your waist. 

“Seriously?”

Immediately you and Jake sprang apart, as Rooster only looked at you, blinking unfazed. Jake waited for Rooster to grab him by the ear or something, for desecrating his childhood best friend, but he only shook his head at Jake. 

“It took you five minutes to fall for her charms, huh? I expected better from you.”

“I- what?” Jake was at loss for words, mentally prepared for defending himself, but apparently that wasn’t necessary.

You smirked coyly at Rooster, your hands smoothing over Jake’s shirt. “He’s tongue guy,” you said, as if that explained everything. 

Evidently, it did though, as Rooster’s eyebrows shot up, his face a mixture of shock and surprise. “Holy shit, he is?”

Jake was extremely confused at this point and he very much did not like how he was the only one in the unknown. Was this how it was always going to be at this point? He wasn’t sure if he liked that. Rooster wrapped his arm around Jake’s shoulder, laughter rumbling in his chest.

“The hell is going on here? Am I in the middle of some weird shovel talk or something?” 

“No, she is definitely capable of taking care of herself, Hangman.” 

“What’s that even supposed to mean?” Jake grumbled and you beamed at him, your eyes twinkling. 

“Wait, he doesn’t know yet?” Rooster asked gleefully, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Wait, you didn’t pull that weird job thing on your first date again, did you?”

“It normally doesn’t even backfire like this. How should I have known that you guys know each other?”

“What’s with the job thing, anyway? Isn’t this the best time to tell me now?”

“Oh oh, can I tell him please?” 

“Jesus, fuck off, Bradley,” you huffed, giving him a shove. Jake glanced between Rooster and you, actually getting concerned. 

“What is it you do for a living, sweets?” He then wanted to know. Rooster, having noticed his tone change, cackled, rubbing his hands together like the little shit he was. Sighing, you glanced at Jake, before telling him what you did for a living.

“Are you kidding? Now that’s not really fair, is it?”

author's note: anyone any guesses as to what reader's job is?

🏷️list: @obiwankenobis-lap @piceous21 @kajjaka @peaches-1999 @dempy @bluearchersstuff @ordinaryornate @hope-love-equality2 @averyreadswow @idiomaticpunk @luckyladycreator2@littlebadariell

[mixelation]

writing some dumb reborn au dialogue this morning

ninjacon 3!!!! (the one with X, a yellow flash cosplayer who is. very hot. in a hilarious way)

*****

“So,” Tori said, suddenly making direct eye contact with Minato, “were you into him?”

“...what?” Minato asked. Kakashi noted he still hadn’t taken a single sip of the drink in his hand. 

“X,” Tori clarified. “Were you into him?”

Kakashi would admit it. The scandalized face Minato made at these words was hilarious. 

“Why would I be into him?” Minato asked, sounding like Tori had just slapped him. 

“We were debating your type,” Itachi said very matter-of-factly. Kakashi choked on his drink. “Since you made multiple comments about X’s attractiveness.”

“I’m married,” Minato said firmly, although his grip on his cup had tightened enough that the plastic was denting. “And your boss. Why are you talking about that?”

“You said you were off duty,” Itachi pointed out at the same time Tori said, “What does being married have to do with it? Kushina-sensei told us all about your hall passes.”

Say what you would about Team Disaster; their teamwork was terrifying. 

“Hall passes?” Kakashi repeated. 

“It’s a list of people a couple makes as ‘exceptions’ to their otherwise closed relationship,” Itachi explained, and Minato took a long, desperate sip of his drink. 

“I know what it means,” Kakashi said blandly, even as he found himself unable to wipe the grin off his face. “Sensei, why have I never heard of your hall passes?”

“Why was Kushina talking about it?” Minato asked, sounding borderline panicked. 

“It’s like her third favorite ‘girl talk’ subject,” Tori said. “You know about girl talk, don’t you?”

“She said girl talk was sacred,” Minato said in an oddly desperate voice, “and private.”

Kakashi had no idea what ‘girl talk’ was. He said this outloud. No one explained it to him. 

“Tori didn’t tell me,” Itachi said. “I only know because girl talk is sometimes… loud.”

“He’s a horrible eavesdropper,” Tori said primly. 

“Wait,” Kakashi said, louder this time, in an attempt to get the conversation back on track. “Is his list… consistent… with X’s appeal?”

“Not really,” Tori replied. “That’s why it’s weird.” She turned back to Minato, whose face was gradually turning pinker. “Well?”

“No,” he replied. “I just understand when cheekbones are beautiful, that’s all.”

They all took a moment to acknowledge that X’s cheekbones were, in fact, gorgeous. 

“So what is your type?” Itachi asked in his unemotional Itachi voice. 

This was truly a one hit KO. Instead of answering, Minato made a face like he’d been suckpunched and then took another long drink. 

Itachi turned to Tori. “Then what’s the pattern?” There was a long pause. “Pale?”

“Pale?” Kakashi repeated. Who the hell was on this list?

“No,” Minato said. 

“Are they all pale because he they’re redheads?” Kakashi asked, brain buzzing for memories of things Minato had listed about Kushina’s best traits. 

“Please stop,” Minato whined. 

“Now, now, Sensei,” Kakashi said, wagging his finger. “You said so yourself. This con is a safe space for bonding experiences, and we all want to know.”

Well, Kakashi wanted to know. He didn’t think this would be a strange thing for Minato to disclose to him, in private over drinks. It might be weird to tell Tori and Itachi, but they apparently already knew and had been analyzing it. 

Minato buried his face in the hand that wasn’t holding his drink. He mumbled something. 

“Sensei?” Kakashi repeated, now struggling to hold back laughter. 

Minato leaned back against the bedframe, looking truly defeated. “Tobirama and…” he sighed. “Ame no Konan.”

Tori raised her eyebrows, expectant. Minato had left something out, Kakashi gathered. 

“She already told you?” Minato asked, looking ever so slightly betrayed. 

“I guess she thought it was relevant to my interests?” Tori hedged. 

Minato groaned, his cheeks going pink again as he turned to Kakashi. “I recently added Akasuna no Sasori.”

He then tipped his cup back and finished it off. Wow. 

The list was honestly only surprising to Kakashi in that he was surprised there was a list. 

“He just likes strong people,” Kakashi told Tori and Itachi matter-of-factly. Next to him, Minato choked on the last of his drink. After a beat he amended, “Who are also hot, I guess. Except maybe Tobirama.”

“Tori said she would put him on her list,” Itachi said. 

“Itachi,” Tori warned. 

Minato grabbed for the bottle of whisky. Kakashi passed it to him. His dear Sensei could face down any physical threat, but this conversation apparently required alcohol. 

“It’s good for couples to have conversations about things like this,” Minato said in an obvious attempt to shift the conversation back into his control as he poured way too much whiskey into his cup. “I’m glad you're communicating about your wants and needs.”

“So why add Sasori now?” Kakashi asked, and Minato shot him a very sad, very betrayed look. 

“I didn’t realize he could… pose a challenge in battle,” Minato said slowly. 

There was a very long silence in the room as Minato opened the soda bottle next. 

“And he’s a redhead,” Minato added. 

“You didn’t realize the guy who destroyed a country could pose a challenge in battle?” Kakashi repeated. 

“It’s only a country on a technicality,” Minato said, waving his hand dismissively. “It was a city-state with a large civilian population. I never really got why everyone thought that was so impressive.”

There was another very long silence. Then Tori burst into laughter. 

“What?” Minato asked, face going into an expression Kakashi might categorize as pouty. “I just like people who are on my level, physically and intellectually.” 

“Why are your standards insane?” she wheezed. “You're so lucky Kushina-sensei likes you back.”

Yes, that expression was… pouting. 

“They don’t have to be able to beat me,” Minato defended. “I just want to have to actually try.”

“Maa, you’re still lucky,” Kakashi drawled. “Name one other person your age in Konoha who fits that description.”

Minato stared at his drink. Kakashi swiveled his head to make eye contact knowingly with Tori. 

******

i keep wanting to make a joke about how tori keeps referring to konan as "my wife" but idk how to do it without the vibe being like..... weird?

tori: i would put konan on my exceptions list too ngl

itachi: you said those lists were people where it would be unrealistic for you to actually hook up with them

kakashi: itachi, she's not ACTUALLY married to konan. you know that, right?

itachi: (dead stare) right.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Already Gone || MV1 {3}

Pairing: Max Verstappen x spy!fem!reader Summary: Max learns more truths about you and he is faced with a tough decision Warnings: criminal activities, angst, panic attack WC: 2.2k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four

The handcuffs had been traded for cable ties that were far more irritating on your wrists, and far harder to escape from. The hours had passed by painfully slowly from where you lay on the cold concrete floor of the empty room you had been shoved into. 

Every once in a while you would hear Max’s voice raise in anger before a door slammed and he would disappear once again. 

It was the waiting that was the worst. Perhaps it would have been easier if they had just handed you over to the police, at least then you knew what to expect. But this waiting for the unknown to occur left you exhausted.

You didn’t even have the energy to sit up when the door creaked open, though you should have tried if you were to come up with an escape plan. Not even the narrow window, that was out of your reach, let in enough light to see where they were keeping you. The only way out was the door.

“You must be freezing,” Max said quietly as he unzipped his jacket and shrugged it off to drape it over your body. 

It smelled like his cologne and held his warmth. “Why are you being nice to me?” 

“Because I’m a fucking idiot apparently.”

You chuckled at his misplaced humour and sat up, hugging your knees to your chest for warmth as you pulled his jacket around you the best you could. “Y/N,” you murmured as you rested your chin on your knees and watched him lean against the doorway. “That’s my name.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise. “Is that meant to make everything better?”

“No,” you sighed and closed your eyes. “I just don’t want there to be any more lies between us.”

“Not us, you,” he corrected. “I never lied to you.” He looked out the door before stepping inside and closing it behind him, his finger flipping the light switch on the wall. You knew just how thin the door was but it gave him the semblance of privacy as he slid down the wall and mirrored your position. “Why did you do this? Why me?”

You couldn’t look at him as his broken voice became a weapon that cleaved deep into your chest. But you owed him the truth, it was the least you could do. 

“Because I was paid to. It was just a job. It was meant to be just a job.” You fell silent as he absorbed the truth. “I fucked it up when I, when I fell for you.”

He swallowed deeply at the admission and it only seemed to hurt him more as his eyes turned down to his fidgeting hands. “Who hired you?”

“Does it matter?” You shrugged and tested the strength of the cable ties again, the plastic cutting into your wrists enough to almost draw blood before you gave up. “What’s done is done.”

“Of course it matters.”

You looked up from the thin crease dented on your wrists and pinned him with a stare he held. “Even if sharing that information could get me killed?” 

A flash of concern caught you by surprise before he shut down and laughed instead. “That’s a bit dramatic.”

“Is it?” You challenged him with an arched eyebrow. “Why does your boss have his own little black site? Why not hand me over to the police and let them investigate it? I’ll tell you, Max. Because this is a billion dollar business we are talking about and every team that wants to win has played dirty to get there.”

“Bullshit.”

It was your turn to laugh at his nativity but it turned to a wince as the bitter smile split your swollen lip. “My employer would kill me to protect their investment without losing a wink of sleep. They’ve already threatened me for taking too long to finish things.”

You tenderly wiped the blood away with the back of your but more quickly welled at the cut as Max pushed himself up and left the room. 

“Here, let me,” he said softly as he returned and knelt in front of you with a damp cloth. “Just don’t break my nose.”

A snort escaped before you could stop it and his lips twitched as he fought back a smile. The moment didn’t last as you pushed his hand away and took the cloth yourself. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, Max.”

He sat back on his heels and his shoulders slumped. “I think we are past that.”

You nodded because there wasn’t anything you could say to that. You had done more than hurt him, you had broken his trust and that would take longer to fix than a simple broken heart.

“I know I have no right to ask for a favour,” you started and flinched when he pinned you with a stare that agreed wholeheartedly. “Can you take Achilles when I’m gone?”

He crossed his arms as he looked down his nose at you. “Where do you think you are going?”

You pushed off the ground and paced the room as the walls suddenly felt narrower with your impending fate. “People like me don’t go to jail, Max. We disappear by choice or…not by choice. Either way, I don’t want him being abandoned again. Just please say you’ll take him. Please, Max?” 

Your chest was aching and you rubbed furiously at the sensation you hadn’t felt since you were a child. Your breaths were rapid and shallow, your vision dimming as you slid down the wall furthest from him as he took a step closer. “Please…”

Max took another step, his hand reaching for you as you looked up with tears in your eyes. He stopped himself before he could touch you, his hand falling limp at his side and he nodded before backing away to the door. “I’ll take care of him.”

The snap of the bolt locking the door behind him snapped you from the panic that had gripped your lungs and it took a moment to remember you weren’t young and defenceless anymore. You had survived greater odds before and you would do it again.

Ten Minutes Earlier “What happens now?” Max asked Christian who was sitting with Brett and two other men he didn’t recognise, one nursing a bloody broken nose beneath an ice pack.

“We find out who she really is and who employed her,” Brett answered as he typed on your laptop, lines of code filling the screen as he tried to access the hard drive.

Max looked at Christian, ignoring the man who was clearly employed to be more than just a chauffeur. “You knew and you didn’t tell me.”

“Look, Max, it’s not that simple,” Christian said as he stood and guided Max away from the others. “We started to suspect someone was stealing information at the start of the season but we didn’t know who.”

“What made you think it was her?” he asked, mentally running through every moment of your relationship as he tried to see the signs. All he saw were the memories of a happy couple in love.

“She never wanted the publicity, she had access to our building-”

“I invited her, she never asked,” Max interjected.

“She played you. She’s still playing you. I’m sorry but it’s not the first time this has happened. We run serious background checks on every employee for this very reason.” Christian ran a hand down his tired face and mumbled, “Now we need to add significant others to the list too.”

“Fuck,” Brett growled as failed yet again to break through the firewall. “This is taking too long.”

“We don’t have time, videos of what happened at the train station are already going viral,” Christian stated coldly. “We need to know who she is. Max, go and talk to her, see what you can get her to disclose.”

“What the fuck? I’m not James Bond. Just call the police, isn’t that their job?”

Christian scratched his beard nervously. “Strictly speaking, it’s best for everyone if they aren’t involved. I’m sure you can understand how bad that would be for the sport.”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” Brett broke the silence as Max sat alone with his head in his hands. He had relayed every piece of information he knew about you and it had been enough to identify you.“Parents unknown, bounced around a dozen foster homes before ageing out of the system and then nothing. No social media presence, no bank accounts, nada. She’s a ghost.”

Max’s head had snapped up as he remembered the tears in your eyes when you begged him to take Achilles. “She’s an orphan.” 

He had witnessed your panic attack at the thought of the kitten being abandoned. He may not have known what was real and what wasn’t in your relationship but his gut told him the fear for the kitten’s safety certainly was. Or, maybe it was what the kitten represented - another little creature left to fend for itself. 

The rage he had been holding within receded at what he realised and he regretted leaving you in that state. His father had instilled into his very core that Verstappen’s do not give up. But that was what he had done when he left the room you were all but caged in.

“Makes sense, no one would care if her work finally caught up with her,” Brett shrugged callously and Max’s hands turned to fists. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked as he stood to his full height and Christian stood up too.

“Nothing, he didn’t mean anything,” the principal said calmly after sending a glare Brett’s way. “Why don’t you take a walk and get some air?”

Max narrowed his eyes at Brett’s back before heading to the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge on his way outside where the chilly night air cooled his burning cheeks. The moonless night meant the stars were all that illuminated the sky and not even the glow of the city on the horizon could dim their lights twinkling above. 

These were the nights you would beg him to go for a ride on your Harley, holding him tightly as he took the mountain roads to the peaks. When he parked at the top you would throw your arms up in the air as if you could pluck one right out of the sky and make a wish. He had never seen anything more beautiful than the smile that came with those midnight rides.

“What the fuck are am I doing?” he asked himself as he slipped back inside.

“What are you doing?” Christian asked as Max sauntered through the living room and towards the door with the large deadbolt attached. 

“Pretty sure even prisoners get food and water,” Max snapped as he continued on his way. You were still where he had left you, only now the tears had dried on your cheeks. “I thought you might be hungry.”

He took a seat in front of you and placed the plate of food on the floor before reaching under his shirt. “Don't make a sound,” he warned as pulled out a steak knife that had been tucked into his belt. You held back a hiss of pain as the cable ties bit into your wrists but the pressure released when they snapped apart with one last cut.

Max stared at the angry lines on your skin but this time he couldn’t stop himself from taking hold of your hand and brushing his thumb over the marks. “You have to go, Y/N,” he said as he stood up and reached the window to open it as wide as it could go.

You couldn’t breathe for a moment as you heard your real name on his lips, the sound so sweet you wished you could hear it again. “Why?” you asked when you recovered and rubbed at your wrists before pulling his jacket on properly. 

“Because I have to believe it wasn’t all a lie, liefje.” He cupped your face in his hand and stared into your soul as he searched your eyes for the truth. “But maybe I’m just making another mistake.”

You caught his hand before he could pull it back and you tipped your cheek into the warmth, savouring the roughness of the calluses on his palm. “This would be easier if it was all a lie, but it wasn’t. I didn’t know love until I knew you.”

You sighed and dropped his hand before the threat of tears stole your vision. His hands gripped your waist and he lifted you up to the window sill, helping keep you steady as you took a seat on it.

“You need to hit me,” he said with a thick lilt in his accent. “Make it believable.”

“Never change,” you whispered as you leaned down and indulged in his kiss one last time. Salt invaded your taste as the tears broke free and his eyes closed as he deepened the kiss and waited for the pain to come.

You couldn’t hurt him, not after all you had done already.

He didn’t notice your fingers tightening from where they had clung to his collar. He didn’t fight your hands climbing the thick column of his throat or feel his consciousness fading as you blocked the blood flowing to his head and he slipped down the wall to sleep for a few minutes while you disappeared into the night. 

“I love you, Max.”

Click here for part four.

Tagging: @octaviareina @omgsuperstarg @mvclff1 @alwaysclassyeagle @icantcomeupwithamusicalname-blog

[arkhamsrevenge]

Dent's Daughter

Jason Todd x Reader

Harvey Dent was a good man, he cared about me in a “daughter” kind of way. Mr. Dent was an amazing parental figure, I liked playing the daughter, but nothing lasts forever.

I’m curled into myself on my bed with my book, “Grim’s Fairytales.” Seemed fitting since I felt like I was in on currently. The curtains were drawn so no one could see in. The door to my room was open and I could hear the voices of Nightwing, Red Hood and Red Robin all muttering about me and Harvey. The police commissioner had left about an hour ago. Harvey escaped custody and because of that I was dragged out of my home and into a strange ass apartment to be I “protective custody”. I didn’t want to think I needed protection from my adopted dad but the nervous feeling that bubbled in my stomach said otherwise. Tears gathered in my eyes for the 16th time today, but I refused to let them fall.

You should have pushed harder. Should have forced him to get the help he needed. I swallowed dryly. I knew of Harvey’s mental health problems yet; he assured me and everyone else they were under control.

“Hey.” My eyes torn from my book to see Nightwing in the doorway. “How are you feeling?” I blinked.

“Spectacular.” He bit back a smile.

“Right sorry. I didn’t know what else to lead with.” I stayed staring at him. “Robin and I are going out to patrol while Batman continue to look for Two-Face-” My temper flared.

“Dent.”

“What?”

“His name is Harvey Dent.” I saw Nightwing take a step back as if embarrassed. He then cleared his throat.

“Right. Uh yeah, we’re going but Hood is here to look after you. So just holler if you need anything.” I nodded then went back to my book. Nightwing hovered for a moment looking like he wanted to say more but didn’t know what, so he just left. I wanted to shut my door but that was against the rules. The rules of Red Hood.

“No open windows, no phone access either. It can be traced.” I begrudgingly gave up my phone in exchange for some books that Red Hood got from Harvey’s house. “You're into reading about those twisted fairytales?” I looked up again to see Red Hood towering over me.

“How the fuck, did your big foot ass come in here without making any noise?” Red Hood snorted.

“Trained by the world’s greatest detective and mask of shadows.”

“Sherlock Holmes isn’t real.” I muttered only to get a sharp laugh out of him.

“Funny. I see why Dent picked up to be his “daughter.” Your funny.”

“Well, it wasn’t for my gusto and good looks.” I said sitting up. I felt like a small animal next to him, but I didn’t want to let my fear show. Hopefully he can’t smell it like Batman can apparently.

“I made Chilaquiles if you want any.” I raised my eyebrows.

“You cook?”

“How do you think I’ve been surviving all this time?” Red Hood asked. I shrugged.

“Take out.” He shook his head.

“Take out isn’t the best around here. Plus, I’m picky where I eat. I usually make all my meal myself-”

“Since it takes a village to satisfy your hunger?” I interrupted. Red Hood crossed his arms.

“Something like that. I only really get takeout at Bat Burger though.” I hummed getting up from the bed. I placed my book down but made sure to doggy ear the page.

“I have about every bat family figure from those special meals. Only one I’m missing is you.” I said walking passed him and making my way out to the living room/kitchen area. I saw the Chilaquiles on the counter, half was already eaten. “You left me half? Are you going to starve tonight?” I asked, taking a bite. Damn. That’s surprisingly good.

“Yeah. I’ll swing by a village when Nightwing and Robin come back.” I barked out a laugh.

“Fairy enough.” I sat at the small kitchen table and ate the rest of my food. It was very good, and I haven’t had a real home cooked meal in about six months

“Damn it. Sorry kiddo, I didn’t have a lot of time to make anything so are frozen chicken nuggets, ok?” Havey asked.

“With Tator tots?” I asked smiling.

“Of course. I’m not an animal but carrots will also be attending.” Havey said laughing at my eye roll.

“Yes, parental figure.” I giggled.

“Can I ask you something?” Red Hood’s voice pulled me back to reality. The one where I’m not living with Harvey. I swallowed.

“Depends on the question.”

“Did Dent show any signs of-”

“Disassociate identity disorder? Yeah.” I mumbled. If anyone asks me that question again, I might have to kill them.

“That’s not what I was going to ask. Did Dent show any signs of violence towards you?” I shook my head. Liar. He can see through you.

Red Hood didn’t say whether he knew I was lying or not. Guess he didn’t want to push any further, afraid I’d shut down. I put my plate in the sink without a word and headed back to my room.

“Keep the door open!” Red Hood called after me. I rolled my eyes.

“Will do!”

“She didn’t say anything about it. Do you think-?” Red Robin’s voice carried through the quiet apartment. So, I guess he and Nightwing are back. I had crawled into bed after dinner and fallen asleep shortly thereafter. My eyes were closed by my ears picked up everything.

“Shh! Quiet down. She’s asleep last time I checked.” Red Hood scolded

He’s checking up on us?

“Her life was flipped upside down in a matter of 24 hours. Yes, Dent had his..outburst but I don’t think he ever got physically violent with her. She knows his mental illness, but she also tells him as a parental figure. She’s mourning or in denial or both.” I smiled slightly hearing Red Hood defend me. Hopefully they won’t ask me any questions in the morning or ever if I’m lucky. Though I had a feeling the young Robin wasn’t going to take my reluctance to answer questions for long.

“Good morning, Gotham. I’m Vicky Vale with the 8 o’clock morning news. The search continues for the villain Two-Face who escaped police custody two nights ago.”

Wonderful way to wake up.

“There has also been no word on where his adapted daughter as she is in witness protection. We have, however, found where she is being held. Sources say it’s in the downtown area.” I opened my eyes. I’m not in Gotham territory technically. I’m right outside the city I think, maybe further but Vicky’s source is wrong...or they were trying to lure Harvey to them.

“This is a bad idea.” I heard Red Hood grumble. “There's no way he’s going to fall for that. Dent knows the commissioner would never allow a witness’s cover to be blown.”

“Yeah well, apparently Ms. Vale wanted to “help” with the capture of Two Face.” Red Robin’s voice entered my ears. I felt my blood pressure rise when he called Harvey by the villain name the media gave him. My heart broke a little more and my chest felt like it was caving in. Still, I took a deep breath and sat up in bed thinking of what to do at this point. The Bat Brigade isn’t going to let me out of their sight, and I can’t even look out the window.

“Do I have to go to another one of your rally's?” Harvey laughed as I pulled at my tight skirt his publicist made me wear. “You don’t really need me there and these heels are gonna kill my feet.”

��Come-on kiddo. I need you there! You’re the charmer that everyone wants to talk with.” I rolled my eyes.

“They only want to talk to me about you. They want me to slip and say something dark about you so they can take it and run.” Harvey straightened his tie.

“You’re right. But you don’t and you make them laugh on top of it.” I sighed and smiled.

“What can I say? I’m adorable.” Harvey threw his head back and laughed.

“OH!” I jumped and turned to the doorway where Red Robin was standing. “YOUR AWAKE!” I covered my ears and flinched. “Sorry! I might have had too much coffee this morning.”

“Might of?” I grumbled. He laughed at that

“HEY! HEY HOOD! SHE IS FUNNY YOU WERE RIGHT!” I kept my hands in my ears.

“Dude!” Robin caved back to himself.

“Sorry! Again, do you want breakfast?” I nodded, uncovering my ears. “Ok good! I made pancake batter.” I gave him a weird look. “I didn’t know how you liked your pancakes. I like them pretty dark.”

“Same.”

“CO-uh-cool. I’ll get those ready. There’s a bathroom down the hall if you want.” I nodded as he left. Maybe I should at least shower. I grabbed clean clothes and quietly made my way to the bathroom across the hall.

“Just asked her!” Robin’s hush voice snapped.

Ask me what?

The show was good for my tense muscles. Once I was done, I dried it off and put a purple tank top and black sweats on. I then towel dried my hair and braided it. I then exited the bathroom and headed to the kitchen where pancakes were waiting for me. I felt all three of their eyes on me as I sat down and started eating.

“Stop starting and ask me already.” I snapped and turned towards the three men. Nightwing and Robins faces were red and Red Hood...he’s always red.

“Guess we aren’t that desecrate huh?” Nightwing asked with a small smile.

“Nope.” I answered flatly. I could see the question they wanted to ask was making them uncomfortable.

“You told Red Hood that Two-uh Dent never got violent with you. But we have a couple police reports that say otherwise.” The eyes burned into to man questioning me. So much so that he almost seemed to squirm.

“He lashed out a few times.” I finally said. Nightwing nodded and waited for me to continue. “It wasn’t him though. Every time he lashed out, it was like another person had entered but as quickly as it happened, he stopped. Like at once. I asked him to get help, or more support or something but he said it was just stress. Then apologized and that was that.” I trailed off. “Why’d you go digging?” I ask.

Robin jumped in. “Uh we can’t tell you that.” I laughed in annoyance.

“Right. You hero types are all the same.” I snapped getting up from the table and headed back into my room. This time I slammed the door shut. I knew it was childish, but I was angary. At myself, at them, at Harvey. Everyone and everything were pissing me off. I realized Red Hood never told me to keep the door open. Good. I would have really blown my lid if he did. I took a second to breathe in and out then dug through my small pile of books until I picked up one that wasn’t mine. It was by Jane Austin. Odd, but ok, maybe it was one of Harvey’s? Either way, I curled up on my bed and started reading.

TW: Violence, Injuries

“I would never hurt you.” Fear was making my body numb. Harvey stood in front of me, scared and all. But that’s not what scared me. I’d never look at Harvey differently no matter what he looked like. It’s the fact that he shot Robin in the chest. His armor protected him from any real damage but...Havery shot him. We were moving to safe houses because Batman got intel that Harvey knew where I was. Someone snitched or saw one of his proteges leave the area constantly. Robin was going with me when Harvey came out of no one and short Robin and dragged me into a random warehouse where I’m currently looking down the barrel of a gun. My heartbeat quickened.

“I know you wouldn’t, but they don’t. And they’ll be coming soon so can you put down the gun?” I asked, trying not to have my voice crack. Harvey seemed to have mulled it over. Thinking of his best options. “H-Harvey?” I stuttered. His eyes widened into this look I’ve never seen before. I then realized I wasn’t talking to Harvey anymore. I was talking to him.

“I am not Harvey.” He growled. I backed up. “I’m NOT HARVEY!” He screamed and jumped at me. Screaming, I dodged him and started running towards the exit. I suddenly felt like I got hit by a truck as I made contact with the concrete floor. My jaw scraped against it making my face sting. I struggled to get up when Harvey pulled me back down and climbed on top.

“HARVEY DOSNE’T NEED ANYMORE DISTRACTIONS. HE NEEDS TO FOCUS ON THE WELLFARE OF GOTHAM.” He screeched wrapping his hands around my throat. I tried to scream and claw at his hands, his face, his arms, anything to stop him but nothing did. My lungs started to burn, and tears flooded my eyes, warping my vision. I continued to try and fight back until my vision started forming black spots. My body started to go numb. The feeling in my arms turned nonexistent.

“Havery.” I strained letting my arms fall to my side. Then the pressure around my neck was off. I sucked in the air and started to cough. It felt like I was choking all over again. I was taking sharp breaths, as my body started to get feeling back. I rolled onto my side still coughing and wheezing. The tears were finally clearing up when someone brought me upward. I swung my elbow around as a poor attempt to defend myself.

“Woah! It’s me!” I turned around to see Red Hood holding my elbow, making it so it didn’t connect with his face. “Stop. Stop it’s ok.” I was still breathing heavily when Red’s gloves started to go towards my neck. “Can you speak?” My throat went up in flames when he asked that. I shook my head ‘no’.

“Ok. Just focus on breathing. I’m gonna get you outta here.” I nodded as one arm went under my leg and the other supported my back. I instinctively wrapped an arm around the back of his neck as we made our way towards the exit. I didn’t look back to see what they were doing to Two Face. All I knew was that Harvey was gone.

[violetbumblebea]

Every now and then, Jason felt bad about lying to Dad. The man took him in, loved him, and bought him literally all the books he could ever ask for and how does he repay him? By sneaking behind his back. Moments like this, however? Really cement why none of the Birds tell their father shit.

"Dad," Jason groaned, slumped next to the man in the back of their limo, "why do we have to visit Two-Face of all people?" Jason attempted to make eye-contact with Alfred through the review mirror to convey his general sense of misery. Alfred, the unsympathetic bastard, rolled up the privacy screen.

Bruce Wayne, dressed in a three piece suit, looked away from the mirror he was fixing his hair in to look at his sulking teenage son. "Harvey Dent," Bruce said, putting emphasis on the name, "is one of my oldest friends. I don't condone what he did but I'm trying to support his recovery."

This is why the Birds could never tell Bruce Wayne the truth. Bruce believed in second chances and in the inherit good of people and therapy. Bruce would never condone of his children enacting badass vigilante justice.

Jason sighed as they approached Arkham. He considered himself lucky. He had come from nothing on the streets to literally the best home in the world.

On one hand, he had the perfect dad. Bruce went to all of his plays, parent teacher conferences, and chaperoned all of his dances (which wasn't the best, but Jason wasn't complaining.) Between all of the activities of his four sons, Bruce was also a successful businessman. Truly, his dad was super human (metaphorically of course - they had checked).

While his dad was pretty much perfect, he also had a wonderful outlet in the form of the Birds.

When Jason had first joined the Wayne family, he found himself chafing under the rules and regulations of his new life. Sure, he loved his structured activities but, at times, they were so stuffy. Bruce had done all the things he was supposed to, supporting Jason's interests, throwing him in therapy, and offering a safe space at home. Something just wasn't clicking for Jason.

It wasn't until he caught Dick's frequent disappearances that he found what he had been missing - crime fighting. Apparently, Dick, in all his prepubescent angst, decided to avenge his parents' deaths and just never stopped. From then on, he had been helping Gotham's poor as Robin Hood.

Their operation in the attic (or the Nest, as Babs had nicknamed it) had only grown from there, adding Dick's friend Barbra Gordon, their stalker-turned-brother, and Bruce's kid that he had unknowingly had with an assassin.

So yeah, Jason had the perfect parental figure, great siblings, a weird spy grandpa, and an outlet for burning energy and beating up bad guys. All in all - not so bad.

What would make his life even better? If his dad would stop visiting a crazy murderer once a week and dragging one of them along with him!

"Come on, Jaybird" his dad said, holding the door to the limo open for Jason. "Let's go tell Uncle Harvey about your role as Iago in "Othello"!"

Jason shuffled out of the limo and the door slammed behind him. He kept pace with Bruce as they approached the dark gray cement of Gotham's best and only asylum.

Time to hang out with the Uncle that Jason had thrown into jail two months ago. Fun.

Note:

Obv. this isn't done! I intend to keep writing for this :) It's been awhile and I'm trying to clear some cobwebs lol. Hope you like it well enough :)

[broken-clover]

23- Hopeful

Was fully not intending to post today because of burnout, but what can I say, Chipp Zanuff infected my brain. Weeb jokes aside, he really is such a cool character with such a cool personal philosophy and outlook on the world.

Content warning for some talking about drugs and addiction, it's all taken from canon but still.

-

Tent doors didn’t slam. You could try, but the best you could manage was an awkward slap of canvas-on-canvas that was embarrassing to witness. It was good that the sound couldn’t wake up anyone who may have been asleep, but when you were already annoyed, having that failure only made you even more so.

Chipp gave up after about three attempts, coming to the realization that it wasn’t going to go the way he wanted. Instead, he threw his hands into the air, let out an angry bark, and stormed over to his bed. It felt like throwing a temper tantrum, and he was pretty well aware of how undignified he looked at the moment, but that wasn’t enough to shake him out of his funk. The best thing he could think of was to shove his face into the pillow until it drowned out his inelegant screams.

Failure. Failure. Answer had said it would be different this time. The kingdom had doubled in size and population since the last application they’d sent in. It should have been a shoo-in, how did it end the same way?? How did they get rejected again?!

Answer had taken it with a lot more grace. Just shrugged and said something about proving themselves even more. Chipp hadn’t paid much attention to it. By the time he had gotten through the rejection letter, he was seeing red. He had just enough sense to go and vent his feelings where the general populace wouldn’t be able to watch him stamp his feet and try to pull out his hair.

His head hurt enough before he could even get to the hair-pulling. It was enough to dissuade him from that, at least. Goodness knew he didn’t need a bald patch.

“Stupid!” He shouted into his pillow, fists bunching the sheets. “Stupid UN, stupid delegation, stupid fuckin’ propositions…”

After a small eternity of waving his fists around, Chipp managed to sit up. He ignored the wet spots on the pillow. His lungs still felt too tight for deep breathing, but he tried to force it anyway.

He reached down.

From under the bed came a dented cardboard box, edges taped and retaped so as to retain some form of structural integrity. It was small, but managed to have a bit of heft to it still. Chipp half-blindly fished through it, nudging aside a few textbooks and language dictionaries until his fingers brushed against something spiral-bound. A thumb hooked one of the loops and hauled it out of the pile.

’Sobriety Journal,’ it read in faded black ink. A thin layer of dust had formed on the cover, easily brushed away with the back of a hand. Chipp attempted another deep breath, this one a little longer than the last, and flipped the book open.

The first few entries were written in childish chicken-scratch. To be fair, he had been around seventeen, and he’d been a high school dropout for some time. The spelling was crude and rough, too, but apparently good enough to be able to spell several different expletives.

Despite his mood, Chipp found himself laughing. The tone was pretty childish too, cursing aside. Whining about the strange man who had insisted on helping him, bemoaning the stranger’s plans for weaning him off of the pills and starting the journal. How he had no intention to take any of it seriously, and was only scribbling in the lines as a way to make himself look busy. How it wasn’t going to last.

Present-Chipp rapped his knuckles on the thick stack of paper that lay under the entry. “Not gonna last, huh, buddy?”

He flipped further and further into the depths of the journal. Cataloging his journey with Master Tsuyoshi, and all the ups and downs it entailed. Though he had to pause a moment at the inarticulate scribbles of anger and despair that he knew, without looking at the dates in the margins, were the first few days after his master’s death. Chipp tried to focus more on the blurbs closer to the bottom.

I’m gonna get off them! I’m finally gonna fucking get off them!!

God it’s so hard today

I want pills so bad, my wrist won’t stop itching. Maybe I can sneak out

Today’s the day! I’m done! I’m done for good! No more drugs for me!”

I broke my streak today…

FUCK! IT’S SO HARD I CAN’T DO IT FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK

Gonna take it slow. Maybe that’s the secret?

That’s what the book had been for initially. It said it right on the cover. Tsuyoshi had mentioned keeping a journal to try and chronicle his path through sobriety. Chipp had expected it to be a linear path from addiction to temperance, but he hadn’t been more wrong. His feelings and cravings could vary from day to day, and even when he felt so confident in his resolve, something could come along and send him spinning back into his old habits. Yet his master had never derided him for it, never insulted him for his weakness. It had taken him many years to understand it.

The last handful of entries were a few years old. As he got more distracted by the big project, his journaling had simply slipped his mind. He felt a pang of guilt over it, but he also knew beating himself up over it wouldn’t help matters.

Remembering what it was that he’d come for, Chipp flipped to another page near the book’s end.

’If I’m counting right, then I’ve been clean for a little over two years. No pills, no shots, nothing. Feels like it should have been longer, I’ve been at this for a lot of years, but that’s okay. It doesn’t have to be perfect right now. I just gotta work hard today and hope it’ll get better tomorrow.’

His journal shut with a satisfying thump. Hope. That was it. He’d overcome a lot through hard work and dedication, and a little bit of hope sprinkled on top. This wasn’t too different. If it wasn’t going the way that he wanted, it wasn’t the end of the world. He just had to dust himself off, take a different approach, put his all into it, and hope for a better turn next time.

[finniestoncrane]

Your One True Nemesis

Chapter 27: also on AO3 Masterlist Here Arkham!Riddler x Female!Reader, word count: 1.3k womp womp he fucketh up because it's all he KNOWS 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: literal high school fuckin drama, angst, jealousy for real

In the kitchen, you prepped the tray of coffees. You laughed softly at the fact there were enough mugs to serve Eddie’s guests, something you’d never noticed before. He struck you as a “one plate, one fork, one knife, one cup” kind of person, extending it to two of each thing when he begrudgingly accepted you into his space. But he was prepared. Typical.

Still, the discovery that he was open and ready for socialisation wasn’t as surprising as the fact he was actually willing to socialise in the first place. Of course, it was an effort of communication and information swapping, bartering pieces of gossip, facts, and possibly materials and aid, all in the name of mutual benefits. It was exciting. You hadn’t known Eddie to speak to any of the other well-known criminal mainstays in Gotham, and the first time you had seen him interact with one was Oswald. And that didn’t exactly go well.

Carrying the tray as carefully as you could, not wanting to embarrass yourself, or Eddie you supposed, in front of his rare guests, you made your way to Eddie’s office, just as he was welcoming the final invitee on the attendance list of his makeshift get together.

“How nice to see you, Dent. Still relying on that coin to make decisions rather than faultless logic and cognitive prowess?”

You stifled your small smile as you waited behind Harvey Dent, Two Face, waiting to enter the room and place the coffees and the milk and sugar on the desk. Harvey noticed you as you shifted around him, raising an eyebrow and turning to Eddie, making a questioning face, who in turn shifted his focus to you with a scowl.

“Yes, thank you, hurry up. You can go now.”

Rolling your eyes, you left the room with a quick, polite smile to the others in the room. Harvey, Harley, and Jervis Tetch all stood awkwardly in Eddie’s small office, the only place he was willing to let them see. You waited outside, listening in as best as you could. It was annoying that Eddie hadn’t let you stay. You were his colleague after all. But you were apparently not on the same level as these people who were strangers to him, compared to you. At the very least, you deserved to know a little bit of the gossip. As you strained yourself to listen closely, you could only make out Eddie’s voice at first, delivering one of his signature rants.

“Well, my so-called peers, how kind of you to join me. I note that you all made it here today, which means you have passed my test. I cannot help but admire the spirit with which you must have thrown yourself into the task of solving the riddle on the invitation card, for which you are woefully under-equipped for, mentally speaking. I almost felt guilty when I contemplated organising this get-together and then hiding it behind a level of intelligence none of you possess. But not so guilty that I was going to call it off. So I will accept your silence and attention as thanks for my dumbing down of the riddle. You’re welcome.”

Even through the door, you could feel the others cringing and rolling their eyes.

Eddie was on the receiving end of these looks, poorly hidden. He furrowed his brows in irritation at the others in the room. As he opened his mouth to speak, Harvey interrupted him.

“First things first, Nigma. Who’s the goon with the coffees?”

There was an awkward pause, too long to remain unnoticeable, before Eddie spoke again.

“She is an assistant. My assistant. She works for me. Does things I don’t have time to waste doing.”

“Is that so?”

Harvey’s face portrayed a smirk, the tension suddenly thick. He shook his head slightly in response to Eddie’s silence, speaking up again, the inflammatory statement giving Harley an excuse to let out a giggle.

“Are you two… y’know?”

“Are we what?”

“Together… or at least… is she doing things you don’t have time to waste doing so your hands stay free?”

“What a ridiculous sentiment.”

Eddie spat the words out, his cheeks feeling suddenly warm. Harvey narrowed his eyes, focusing in on Eddie.

“Oh come on, it’s hardly far fetched, Nigma. You think there isn’t a precedent for this kinda thing?” I mean, Harley was definitely sucking Joker’s cock on the side.”

Suddenly enraged, Harley slammed her palms on the table.

“HEY! That was different! We were in love. Plus, I wanted to be with Mr J.”

Harvey nodded, sagely, with a cruel smile.

“And you don’t think that she wants to be with Eddie. I get it. You’re smarter than you look, Quinn.”

Jervis clasped his hands together softly, resting his elbows on the table, his chin on his hands, and smiled as he watched the argument unfold. Eddie stood up from his chair, throwing a finger in the direction of Harvey, pointing at his stiffly, finger trembling slightly as he hissed his retort.

“Oh, is that so? Well, I’ll have both of you know that she goes want me, in… a carnal manner. At least I am fairly certain of that. And given I am far more intelligent than the two of you, and Tetch, I would trust my own assumptions first. But I can tell you concretely and factually that she is 100% beneath me, and I wouldn’t offer her, or anyone else for that matter, the time of day, let alone my body. Because I can afford to separate the wheat from the chaff, unlike some of you people who will pounce at the first opportunity to expunge your OH- Hello… we were just getting into the meat of the discussions. Why have you interrupted us?”

At the climax of his grotesque rhetoric, you decided to open the door and put a stop to it. Without speaking, and under the guise of providing more milk for the table, you walked in and disrupted his flow. Without looking directly at him, you could see that Eddie’s cheeks had reddened. You could tell he was trying to determine how much you had heard of his rant, without admitting that he cared whether you knew or not.

“I’ve brought more milk, in case anyone needed it. Sorry to interrupt.”

Stuttering, lips quivering, Eddie tried to act as though everything was entirely normal.

“Yes, well… be quick about it.”

“Of course, Eddie.”

In his embarrassment, Eddie tried to usher you out of the door with trembling hands, worried that you might say something to take him down in front of the people he needed to look strongest for. And beneath that, suppressed by his own habit of ignorance, he was concerned that you might be hurt by his words. But your pleasant and neutral demeanour gave him a sense of security. Until you turned at the door way, smiling at him as you spoke.

“For the record, I was interested in Eddie. In fact, there was a physical aspect to our relationship. But there’s no need for him to worry. I’ve moved on.”

With a cold smile, you closed the door behind you, sighing, almost comforted by the recognition in the feeling of being let down by Eddie. Typical. But at least you got your shot in this time.

Beyond the door, Harvey turned to Harley, shrugging at her.

“I guess he wasn’t lying then.”

He turned to Eddie.

“You gonna gloat now, Nigma. Or can we get on with what we came here for?”

Eddie remained silent, staring at the closed door, unable to shift his mind from the questions that screamed inside his skull.

What did that mean? Who had you moved on with? And how could he get you back on side?

[late-adajimer]

Adajima fic (romance companion to "Lost in the arms of destiny") - part 2

The day after is awkward, starting with Ryotaro almost attacking his husband, because he had changed into his god form to sleep, which was far more intimidating, and unknown to the human. Ryotaro also doesn't know how to act (and process everything that has happened), and magatsu-Izanagi feels smug as a cat when he watches the human's skin, all the bruises and marks he has etched on his wife to claim him. In the morning, Magatsu-Izanagi presents to Ryotaro the two kitsune that will be his guides and maids while he's adapting, and will help him with more mundane tasks as well.

After he was given leave to clean himself and dressed in more understated silks (though still far too luxurious for his taste) meant for married women, Magatsu-Izanagi guided him through the castle, pointing out places of interest, the logistics of what he would be responsible for. Most of it was similar enough to what he had done on Inaba for him to not feel too overwhelmed, though that changed when magatsu-Izanagi showed him his personal study, and where the god stored all the petitions he received for the punishment of mortals and humans especially.

"I don't think you need a wife to deal with this, you need a whole harem, and enough time without new complaints to be able to make a dent into your archives," Ryotaro said, observing how more scrolls simply popped into existence, multiplying easily, and how the room seemed to grow to accommodate it.

"I told you I disliked humanity, do you now understand why? Every minor or major God sends their grudges to me, wanting humans to suffer for their transgressions. The only way I would have been able to clear this would be if I was able to bend reality and time, but those are not within my purview. Even if I worked every day and night here and at the start I did, I would never be able to dispatch everything." his husband's voice was low, a thread of irritation becoming apparent in his posture.

Ryotaro asked if anything there could be thrown away, considering some humans would have surely died, and it didn't make sense to keep requests he couldn't really fulfill, and learned most of servants had given up trying to classify the scrolls, because they couldn't keep it tidied, and no matter how they much they tried, there was always more.

Ryotaro had the idea to ask for a moratorium from Izanagi — if Magatsu-Izanagi was free to not work during the first period of their marriage, it made sense to ask the other God for a break from the scrolls too, so they could try and make a difference.

"Well, it's better than nothing. I will ask my brother later today. Will you coordinate efforts? It is only right for you to do so, wife, considering the idea is yours" his husband (and how strange that is) says, and Ryotaro has to agree. 

The project goes slowly, and Ryotaro in the mean time learns more about the types of Yokai his husband has as subjects, their habits, names and positions in their lands, and how to act as the 'lady' of their country.

Sometimes, at night, his heart constricts at the idea he left Nanako alone — even if he knows the villagers would do their best to care for her in his stead, it should have been his duty, and his pleasure, and how much time he lost with her, because of his grief...

And he can't change anything.

His 'husband' is less than enthusiastic about letting him go anywhere outside their lands, and Ryotaro can understand some of it —they are barely married, it would reflect badly on him if they parted so soon, but he is human, not a Godly being, and the days passing mean something to him, knowing he has left so much behind.

The only thing he can't really complain is his husband's talents at bed play, nor his attentions — it had been a long time since he was touched so much, or had received pleasure constantly, learned so much about his body and what it could do — more than once, he thought it was the God's way of occupying his time, when he wasn't ordering about an army of servants in his husband's workroom or trying to learn the intricacies of behavior in a Godly court.

It takes the equivalent of three months, and an almost literal army of workers to clear the room of every outdated and worthless scroll.

In the meantime, he has survived four assassination attempts, saw his husband destroy one of the assassins, body, mind and soul while in his God form, and had to become used to it, because Magatsu-Izanagi refused to sleep in his human form after the second attempt.

It would be easier, if he didn't know exactly how powerful magatsu-Izanagi was, nor felt the malice directed at the spirit tasked with the assassination. He hadn't been able to sleep during the night, because of the God curled around him, clawed fingers he had seen cut through matter and energy as if paper around his waist, the echoing tortured scream of pain ringing in his ears still.

The only consolation he had was that if Magatsu-Izanagi wanted him dead, he would already be.

[korolife]

Blog No.002　24年5月4日

「Working on My Very First Miniature Kit!」

Hi, this is a behind-the-scenes on my experience in making the Corner of Happiness: Taste of Life DIY miniature kit!

It was from a couple of years ago, we found a stall selling miniature craft kits while strolling around the mall. My sister bought me the very same model I've been eyeing on my online shopping cart as a birthday present.

Me and my sister both love miniatures since we were very young, but making them from scratch require a lot of time, materials, and tools we don't really have (especially if you don't want them to look crudely made). Luckily, now with a Do-it-yourself kit, that wasn't going to be much of an issue! ...or so I'd hoped as a miniature newbie.

These are all the other variants of this series. I really dig the pink bunny aesthetics they're going for, though it's not as apparent on this one.

The kit also included custom wooden parts, wires, beads, and a tool kit necessary for the build. It also comes with an acrylic glass for dust-free casing!

Most of the parts were made from a print-out glossy paper with all the items' photo-real textures; some of which are just to be pasted onto a harder material like wood shaped similarly to the object, but most of them are just the paper itself.

I guess doing it this way cuts costs for manufacturing, but it was very challenging to work with, in my opinion. You'll see what I mean in a bit.

And here's a preview of the instruction booklet's contents.

I thought it was worded weirdly at parts, but still understandable enough with plenty of visuals to go with it.

Starting with the base/foundation of the model before anything else seemed to be the best option... though I was very, very tempted to skip to work on the food items. I don't know why, but miniature food just gets me really giddy.

But, gotta hold backーcan't make food without the oven and all.

I then worked my way through the biggest parts and set them down permanently with the paste provided in the kit.

...but I probably shouldn't have glued the kitchen island in place before placing the handles...aiyah one of them is really crooked-

I'm not familiar with wirings, so setting up the LED lights made me panic a little. But somehow, it all worked out! I'm confident that if an idiot like me can get through this, so can anyone!!

And now I present to you: The Paper Struggles™

+ and a "It's so fakken small" compilation.

The booklet is a lie lol that knife .jpg is 5x bigger than what you've got to work with-

I remember both bread toasts being squished from the tweezers... thankfully tiny enough for anyone to really see, but there's definitely a shtload of dents on there...

The wire handles for the mug was such a struggle lol it kept falling off no matter what, so I just kept adding glue and just... held on to it with pressure against the bead for what felt like eternity until it dried completely.

I also remember struggling with the semi-origami flowers quite a bit, but I think the trauma of it all made my brain forget to take photos-

Next up are the wires. I never really considered it before this kit, but they can actually have a lot of use when it comes to making miniature furnitures and accessories.

This was unfortunately before I got into making earrings, so I didn't have the right tools (pliers) to straighten them out. The very thin tweezers that came with the kit didn't help that much, so I just had to use my fingers.

The results... are as wobbly as the hands that created them lol I've learned my lesson...

that incomplete circle pains me so

And here we have my favorite partーthe food! All the tiniest of detailing, the garnishing, the arrangements... it just makes me so happy, I really don't understand why.

The original instructions only intended the oranges to be on the chopping board, but not in this household!!!

Oh, and the oranges were sliced up polymer clay rolls that I know are popularly used as nail art? Me and my sister used to sell polymer clay accessories back in the day and it felt very nostalgic seeing those tubes again.

And here we have the finished model! ☆

I made a few changes from the original intended 'look' + added a couple of my own beads from my hoard material collection from childhood I planned on using for when we started making miniatures... and the time for use was most certainly now!

Aaand here's a bird's eye view before completing with the dust-free acrylic glass encasing top lid.

～ CONCLUSION ～

Overall, I thought it was really fun, despite the unforeseeable challenges along the way. Even as a newbie with little to no experience working on actual builds + with only the enthusiasm and love for miniatures to desperately cling to when the damn wires wouldn't stick on their corresponding surfaces properly... it seemed to turn out pretty OK!! I expected a whole lot more screaming and dying inside lol If you're interested in getting it, I think simply searching up "Corner of Happiness" or "Taste of Life DIY miniature kit" should get you some results on your preferred online shopping platform! ※NOTE: I do have to stress to make sure to check (either through other user reviews or the listing's description) if the seller is including a tool kit in your purchase. A lot of the items included in this kit you can probably find at home, but not a lot of people are so crafty to just have them lying aroundーespecially if you're a complete newbie with crafts/miniatures! You'll have a hard time trying to wing it without tools. ※also, they might just skimp on you by not including them, but still have you pay for the full price lol it's definitely worth considering when purchasing.

I know a lot of parents may see these kits to buy for their kids, but unless ➀ they're also helping out the kid in the process or ➁ if the kid in question has no interest or patience for these kind of things, I think it's best not to buy them DIY kits like these if you don't want to risk wasting money. But that's just my opinion, as a broke adult who's always wanted one of these haha

The amount of care, effort, and attention to make sure everything is sturdy enough and visually clean can be very drainingー but if you're willingーanyone can do it!

And of course, a final very cool look on LED lights turned on at night.

This project was done around 2022年. I've done one more miniature kit since then that was way more complex, but that's a whole 'nother journal entry for another day...

For now, here's a mini update of how this Taste of Life is hangin' after two years have passed:

please don't mind Mr. Gamma side-eyeing you in the BG-

The batteries for the LED unfortunately need replacing and one of the wire chairs kind of died a bit, but it's still alive + currently displayed and part of my makeshift not-all-Shounen Jump Manga corner! I might make a separate blog about that too...

But until thenーthanks for reading ( ´ ꒳ ` )⸝ see you in the next one!★

[westerosoliviapope]

Theon Greyjoy - A Day in the Life

I loved this Theon segment so much, I want to give it room to breathe outside the other shenanigans in my latest update.

From Warrior in a Suit (Scandal Westeros - Finale) on A03

"That's the one."

Gods, Theon thinks. Don't let it be the expensive one. He flips the view on his phone so Sansa can inspect the selection of rings on the tray.

"Far right. 1.5 carat, round cut, white gold," she says. "It looks just like the one on her Pinterest board."

Of course.

He nods to Sabitha, the smiling saleswoman behind the counter. A mere six months ago, those tits peeking through her scandalously-buttoned white shirt would have compelled him to give her something more fleeting than the healthy commission she's about to collect.

He's in love, not blind—but neither Sabitha's turnips nor the significant dent in his credit card can cool the warmth in his chest imagining Jeyne's face when she sees this ring.

Theon Greyjoy. Betrothed. He's tempted to pinch himself.

You learn a thing or two watching your best mate spin out from a broken heart. Namely, you don't want to be the bloke who lets the girl—the One—get away.

Day two of their trip to wine country, having dinner on a balcony at Redwyne Family Vineyards as the sun set over rows of red grapes as far as the eye could see, when the light caught whatever Jeyne put on her face that evening to make her cheeks shimmer and all of a sudden he couldn't breathe, Theon knew.

He was done for. Over. So long to the Sabithas of the world.

Maestro, you can cue the wedding march…

The Riverlands' rains don't bother him —a walk in the park compared to the icy storms he grew up with. As far as he's concerned, it's 70 degrees and sunny as he whips his Tesla through the Capitol nodding to the sounds of Jaero Hovys. He became a fan while stationed in Tyrosh, sharing a base with Braavosi soldiers who couldn't get enough of Jae's layered, braggadocious rhymes. When you spent your days trying not to get your cock blown off by landmines, you took confidence where you could get it. For Theon, that meant chanting lines like "I will not lose" and "allow me to re-introduce myself" while waiting in the fields, rifle at the ready.

He generally prefers the earlier stuff to the recent releases with his wife, Bellegere Otherys. Since taking Jeyne to see the pair in concert, however, he appreciates the newer tracks. He doesn't even skip when "Boss" thumps out of his custom speakers.

"Everybody's bosses/ till it's time to pay for the office—"

Fucking hell. How does the phone always know to ring right before the best part of the song? His frustration is quickly replaced with a shit-eating grin when he sees the name flashing across his dashboard.

"Ms. Poole," he answers. He swears he can feel the ring burning a hole in his pocket, even though it's locked in his safe at home. She has no idea… he thinks. Or does she? Bloody hell, if Sansa spoiled the surprise—

"Are you seeing this thing with Arya and your uncle?"

He tries—actively—not to see anything about anyone in his family, except maybe Asha. But keeping the Greyjoy name out of his feeds is difficult of late. What with Euron emerging from bumfuck Asshai and casting himself as Westeros' new main character. Running around with Cersei Lannister. Going viral for shitposting celebrities and the government. Now, apparently he's arguing with Arya on Twitter.

Once he's at his desk, Theon goes through the tweets. All 319 of them. Arya listed the 318 victims of the 2002 Bear Island Attack, a name per tweet, and ended the thread with:

"The media wants you to forget, so they can use the theatrics of a suspected terrorist to boost their ratings. Please think of your Northern neighbors before you platform/share/boost Euron Greyjoy. Time changes many things—it doesn't bring back the loved ones we lost at Bear Island. #TheNorthRemembers."

587k retweets

In reply, Euron posted a photo from Robb's campaign with Theon featured prominently among the Stark siblings.

"Seems you aren't triggered by all Greyjoys. Just the ones who don't kiss your 'honorable' arses. Westerosi elites use every trick in the book to censor me because I tell the truth. Don't let the sob stories fool you.

869k retweets

How long before his phone starts buzzing with requests for comment? Theon gives it two, three hours tops.

When he left Pyke to join the armed services at 18, he thought his days of explaining his family ties were over. He enlisted as Theon Harlaw with no plans to return to the western shores of the Narrow Sea. Once the Three Daughters' conflict settled, he'd find a local Tyroshi girl—a buxom waitress, bartender, or the like—and have a stable full of blue-haired sons who'd never hear their family name associated with words like "extremist," or "cult."

He was in Tyrosh a year when a new crop of cadets came over from the Military Academy at Storm's End, and the name "STARK" appeared over one of the bunks in his unit.

When the Bear Island Courthouse fell, he and Asha were already emancipated, having won their freedom with the assistance of their Uncle Rodrik. The national media knew of Balon Greyjoy, the Iron Islands governor who didn't publicly support the Church of the Drowned God, but—conveniently—never brought the full force of the law down on its extremist sect. They knew the masterminds behind the attack, and applied the term to Aeron and Victarion without irony. And they knew of the enigmatic Greyjoy brother whose "business" took him to Qarth—known drug and money laundering capital of the world—a month before the attack.

They knew little of the wife who divorced Balon ten years prior on grounds of spousal abuse. Or the pair of teenage orphans left to fend for themselves when she died.

His mother's surname let him and Robb coexist peacefully when he first arrived. As the legend of the Young Wolf spread, Theon stayed cordial, but distant. They worked together when duty called. Otherwise, Theon spent his leisure time with the Braavosi unit. With their music, brashness, and penchant for good liquor, they were more his speed than the boy scouts from the Military Academy.

Leave it to Balon to blow it to shit.

News of his father's stroke came via letter. Addressed to "Theon Greyjoy." Like it was bloody designed for shouting in the unit for everyone to hear.

Theon learned three things that day.

One: He wouldn't receive a penny of his trust fund without the Greyjoy name.

Two: Robb has literal bricks for hands.

Three: A fist fight can be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Moments like tonight—watching his name turn into a trending topic because he didn't just have "a" crazy uncle, but came from a family of hucksters who amassed power by deluding an impoverished region with the fantasy of subjugating women, never paying taxes, and attacking merchant ships in the Sunset Sea like a band of old time pirates—makes him wonder if being a Greyjoy is worth the money.

Hovys said it best. Take the good with the bad or throw the baby out with that bath water. Theon Harlaw couldn't drop $21k on an engagement ring.

Fuck waiting out the storm. He may as well steer into it. Smother this baby in the crib before it hits Robb's radar and turns into a real shit show. It's the last thing they need after that Westerling business.

And yes. Perhaps, somewhere in the back of his mind, Theon liked the idea of eye candy in the office when that bloke from the Lorathi embassy gave him her resume. How was he supposed to know Robb would lose his godsdamned head?

Before Jeyne—his Jeyne—not Slutty Fanfic Jeyne…

Well. Okay. Theon would've done the same. Or at least tried. But he didn't unzip Robb's pants and stick his cock in the girl. So, not his fault.

"WNTH. How may I help you?"

"Theon Greyjoy for Wylla Manderly."

Hound that she is, Wylla barely lets the phone ring. Gods save anyone standing between her and an exclusive. "Your uncle has half the republic calling you 'Theon Sheepboy.' Care to comment?"

Sheepboy? Oh. Wolves. Sheep. "Charming," Theon retorts, tapping his pen on his desk.

Time to earn his keep as comms director.

"I'd like to say, on the record, that I have been honored by the gracious warmth and welcome I've found within the Stark family, and stand ardently with them in support of the families and victims of the Bear Island Attack. Euron Greyjoy is a photo on a mantle in a house I barely remember. And I'd like to keep it that way."

"Got it."

"One more thing, Wylla…"

"Aye?"

"The headline is me and my uncle. The family's been through enough without Euron goading them into a brawl." Better Euron's army of bots calling him "sheepboy" than whatever vile shit they'll say to Arya.

"Careful, Greyjoy. People might start thinking you're galant."

"Me?" Theon smiles. "Never."

[varlaisvea]

WIP Wednesday today!

This was the thing that started it all! This was the start of what is now a novel-length fic that I have not posted. It got moved to the prologue, and now might get left out entirely, though I hope I can find a way to include it!

Pairing: Razum-dar & The Vestige (canon)* Words: 5.3k Rating: T, alcohol and allusions to sex Summary: After a fraught visit with Raz's family, Razum-dar and the Vestige have a drunken heart-to-heart. Or something vaguely analogous. (Takes place after the ESO: Elsweyr quest "Home Sweet Home") (*Note: For lulz and challenge reasons, I wanted the Vestige to be the same as they are in-game in ESO, where the canon Vestige lacks a soul and knowledge of their past. Much like the written content of ESO, this Vestige POV also contains no mentions of the Vestige's name, race, age, gender, or any other identifying characteristics. But in a fun and cute way, at least I hope!)

-----

The food was good, and the overall mood was pleasant, but I’ve certainly been to less tense family dinners. And I don’t even have a family.

“Where are you headed now, my friend?” Raz asks me, after we both say our goodbyes to his family. “If you are not sick of this one by now, you are welcome to travel with Raz to Elden Root.” He does not look enthused about going to Elden Root.

“What’s in Elden Root?” Raz sighs heavily. “The closest portal to Eyevea. Raz dislikes travel methods that disassemble and then reassemble your entire existence, but he does what he must for the Dominion.”

“What’s in Eyevea?”

“All Raz knows so far is that he is meeting a Psijic who claims to have important information, and apparently has very questionable motives.”

“Sounds like the type of work you’re best at.”

“Yes, subterfuge is one of Raz’s many, many sleek specialties, as you well know,” he says, buffing his claws. “But this one has a feeling about this mission.”

I feel a little guilty that I’m more intrigued than concerned, but I’m going to chalk it up to faith in Raz’s abilities. “Sounds like it’s not a good feeling,” I say.

“Just so.” He sighs again. “Her Majesty would not send the captain of her guard, Brogomir, to personally retrieve Her Majesty’s most valuable agent, Razum-dar, from a vacation she herself imposed on him—to send said extremely dashing agent to a secret, inaccessible mage island in a pocket dimension, where anyone with political business is distinctly and explicitly unwelcome—if this were not a very weighty matter for the Dominion.”

“You make a good point,” I say, and now I am even more intrigued, but also concerned.

“To meet a member of the Psijic Order, no less! We know how the Psijic Order feels about the Mages Guild, yes?”

Right, totally, I guess I remember they have beef or something? I nod.

“This is why Raz suspects that Her Majesty could use your help, if you do not have more urgent business.”

He seems more cautious than normal. I think there’s something he’s not telling me. Then again, there always is. “Elden Root’s as good as anywhere, then!”

“Ah, fragrant, as the folks back home—uh, here—would say. Raz will meet you in Elden Root, then!” He heads off without another word—he seems like he’s in a hurry to leave Merryvale.

Despite all I’ve accomplished, I haven’t been in this reality very long, so there are some things I don’t understand yet. For example, why do people always want to meet me somewhere when we’re going to the same destination? It seems like traveling together would leave less chance of getting separated or side-tracked.

Nevertheless, somehow when I get to the inn in Elden Root, Raz has already been there long enough to book us some bunks at the inn, find a quiet place to drink, and make a pretty good dent in a bottle of moon-sugarcane rum. He has found a place not too far from the inn, but a lot nicer: the roots of the Great Tree are wide enough to sit ten people from side to side, and the one Raz is sitting on overlooks a waterfall and the river; the setting sun lights up the arches of the Elden Root Temple in the distance. He even brought a blanket to sit on.

As I get closer, I see he has scrapes all over his face and neck that he definitely didn’t have when we left Merryvale. “Whoa, what happened to you?”

“Five-claw!” he says, as if he didn’t just see me in Merryvale. “So glad you could make it! Please, do not worry about old Raz,” he says, pouring a drink. “There was some confusion after this one placed an order for supplies—” he holds up the bottle of rum. “The vendor called out ‘order for Raz’ and a tall, intimidating, very muscular Orc went and grabbed all the parcels! Raz, this one, had to confront him—”

“Oh, no…”

“—it turns out his name was Roz, spelled differently. A simple misunderstanding!” Raz laughs.

“So… what happened to your face, then?’ I ask, sitting down next to him on the blanket.

“Well, this one and the Orc Roz decided to split one of the bottles of rum. Events unfolded, and we found ourselves in a… heated… conversation.”

“Oh,” I say, grimacing. “Seems like it didn’t end well.”

“Ah, no, Raz should have been clearer—this was the type of ‘heated’ ‘conversation’ that typically ends very well.” He is already drunk, so that joke delights him. “Contrary to what this one’s mother says about him, he can say no to a pretty face, he just does his best not to make a habit of it, yes?” He takes a drink. “And, you must agree, it would be grievously unjust for this pretty face to deny due consideration to all reasonable requests.” He grins.

I roll my eyes. How did he even have time for that? “Right, so… the Orc.”

“Yes, Roz. You may be wondering, how is kissing accomplished with so many differently-shaped fangs involved? Or maybe you do not need to wonder at all, ha!” He tips his cup to me. “But this evening, Raz was reminded that the answer should be very carefully.”

I search my pack for something to eat—it’s been about two or three hours, so I’m hungry.

“You are a member of the Mages Guild, yes?”

I nod. “And the Psijic Order.”

“Of course you are.” He shakes his head and takes a drink, then looks back at me. “Raz did not want to sound concerned,” he says, “but the truth is he is very glad to have you along.” He finishes what’s in his cup. “Arriving in Eyevea will be possible with your help—this one did not exactly have a plan of his own.”

“Glad I could—“

“—And, as an additional benefit, Raz will now have time to threaten you appropriately!” Raz says cheerfully. “Raz assumes it is healthy to have one’s ego culled from time to time, but it was quite unfortunate that you saw what this one’s family thinks of him.” He refills his cup generously. “Raz is glad you have also seen how adept he is at killing, because he is going to swear you to secrecy about his relationship with Mother and Rakhzargo.”

I roll my eyes again as I take a bite of my Longfin Pasty with Melon Sauce. “Who would I tell, Raz? Surprisingly, the subject of how much your family likes you has never come up in conversation with anyone but you,” I say, with my mouth still full for extra mockery.

He laughs. “And it should stay that way, yes? Captain Brogomir’s arrival was what made Raz’s mother and brother change their tune, so luckily Brogomir did not hear them calling Raz a good-for-nothing drunkard,” he says, with an obvious note of bitterness. ”You are the only one who knows.”

“Heh. You think Brogomir didn’t already know you’re a good-for-nothing drunkard?”

“Funny, five-claw. Raz knows Ziz Kurah, incidentally.” I realize how much he doesn’t sound as playful as he usually does when he threatens to kill me. He sounds… kind of hurt, actually. I look up from my meal to see that he’s already nearly done with the cup of rum he just poured. Maybe it’s best to change the subject. “So… what’s next?”

Raz finishes what’s in his cup. “Tomorrow we go to Eyevea and meet with this Psijic. Raz does not know much more than that.” He uncorks the bottle to refill his cup. “Tonight,” he says with a dark sigh, pouring himself a generous amount of rum, “this one intends to get very drunk. One reason we’re staying at an inn—this is frowned on at the Altmer embassy.”

It’s obvious the time in Merryvale upset him. Raz and I have been through a lot together, I realize—he’s one of the closest friends I’ve made in my travels. But I’m not sure if he wants to talk about it, or just get drunk about it. Either way, I wasn’t doing anything this evening. “Could I be helpful with that, too?”

Raz grabs another large bottle of rum from his pack, and sets it down proudly next to him on the blanket. “Ah, five-claw! Truthfully, this one is just as relieved to have you with him on this evening’s journey as he will be to have your help tomorrow!” He reaches into his pack, pulls out another stone cup, and pours me what’s left of the bottle he’s been working on. He lifts his cup to me so we can tap them together.

I down mine—pleasantly sweet—and I’m a little relieved to see Raz take a subdued sip of his. The last rays of the sun shine brilliantly though the tree canopy and make the top of the waterfall appear golden. We share a long, cozy silence.

“So,” Raz says finally, “how did you like Merryvale? Raz must seem like a different cat to you, now that you’ve seen where he comes from.”

“It’s a beautiful place.”

“Yes, and you met this one’s beautiful neighbors, to whom Raz made many beautiful promises when he thought he would never be coming back to Merryvale.” He takes a long drink. “Raz thanks you in advance, as he knows you will also not be telling anyone how that ended.”

I swish around the rum in my cup, then finish the rest of it. “Did you really think you were never going back there, when you told them?”

He sighs, and finishes what’s in his cup. “Sometimes love makes people do irrational things,” he says. “And now you know, this one has been in love at least three times, so… that’s very irrational, yes?“

“If making promises you don’t plan to keep counts as being in love, then it’s been many more than three,” I say, laughing, downing the rest of the rum in my cup. “Come on Raz, you’re a better liar than that.”

“Raz did say at least three times,” he says, without much humor in his voice. He sighs and leans his head back, covering his face with his hands. “Raz is only a good liar to people who have not seen his mother steal all of his confidence with a steely precision that would make Rajhin jealous. Thankfully, that is most people.” He refills his cup, then mine. “But leave it to Mother to get right to the truth, yes? And you have now met Raz’s neighbors in Merryvale, so you have seen this truth firsthand.” He sighs at length, like he’s about to say something he doesn’t want to. “It is very embarrassing to have an admired comrade find out that this one is actually the selfish, manipulative bastard his detractors curse.”

“Hey, I don’t think that about you! How could anyone who really knows you believe that?”

“Raz is telling you, Mother does really know him.” He doesn’t sound upset, just resigned, which might be worse. “Raz knows his reputation; he knows that many of his acquaintances would readily believe a rumor that he is just as much of a snake to his friends as he is to enemies of the Crown. He also knows he is charming enough to easily re-convince them otherwise.”

As with many things he says, I can’t tell if he’s implying seduction, deception, intimidation, or pure charm, but before I can ask him to clarify, I realize that the very fact that I have that question—and that he is more than capable of any combination of those—proves his point. I take a sip of my drink and nod, convinced.

He takes a long drink and looks out at the river, sighing. “But it would not change the fact that, for example, he hurt three lovely Khajiit he grew up with, because his ego was too fragile to see beyond his own whiskers.” He takes another sip, then gestures toward me with his cup. “You must not tell Raz that did not lower your opinion of him.”

“Well, it’s… definitely not one of the more noble things I’ve seen you do.”

“Ha! So diplomatic! Prior to then, you had mostly seen Raz disregard common decency in suave, roguish service to the Queen, and look so-sleek doing so. You had not seen him do it in selfishness, and so clumsily to boot.” He sighs, and drinks. “The folks back home in Merryvale see right through this one.”

“You’ve changed a lot since you last saw them, huh?”

Raz sighs. “Immeasurably.”

“For the better?” I ask, finishing my drink.

“Unquestionably.”

“From the perspective of someone who doesn’t know them, I don’t think they see through you. I think they look at you and see Razum, the sweet-talking troublemaker who left Merryvale many years ago.”

Raz appreciatively nudges me with his elbow. “Raz sees what you are trying to do, my kind friend, but… this one is very much still the arrogant liar who made sweet-toothed promises to his neighbors to get what he wanted, because he was too much of a coward to tell them he could never be happy with a life spent harvesting moon-sugar.”

“Being an arrogant liar is what makes him so valuable to Her Majesty, right? And his sweet-toothed promises too, I’m sure.”

He tips his cup to me.

“See? You’re still an ass, I’d never deny that, but I can’t see you doing something like that to someone now.”

“No, Raz is a much better liar now; he does not have to lie just to make pillow-friends. He finds them naturally on the strength of his sleek and elegant lies for Queen and country!”

I laugh, and we sit in tipsy silence.

After several moments, Raz sighs and says, “and… to be fair… this one’s neighbors still had to make him fear for his life in order to get an apology out of him.”

“You eventually gave it?”

“Yes… this one just had to get over himself a little first. But once I did, I listened to all of them, and apologized truly. And I apologized that they had to force it out of me. As Raz said earlier… sometimes it truly is valuable to see reflections of your less-respectable qualities.”

“But actually reflecting on them, being willing to apologize for them, and doing your best to make them right… those are good qualities you now have that you didn’t back then. Why is it so hard to believe that you’ve grown up, at least a little?”

“Heh, fine. I suppose you are right, five-claw. And Raz did not exactly give Kideya and Rakh-ja much of a chance to see that.”

“I can’t blame you for trying to put up with as few cutting remarks as possible,” I say. “It really started to bother me. You’ve saved my life before.”

“Raz admits, he did not fully realize what he was asking you to do in staying quiet through their insults, since he was so used to them.“ He finishes what’s in his cup. “Perhaps that is something else he should spend some time thinking about. Sometimes we all get used to things we should not, yes?”

I nod. “Especially the most resilient of us.”

He refills his cup and takes a sip. “But! Perhaps new moons have risen for Raz’s family relations! This one is not ready to trust it just yet, but he now finds himself in the shocking position of having received an apology and an enthusiastically glowing admission of pride from his mother.” He gestures at me with his cup. “Nicely done, as usual.”

“You act like I lied to her, like it was some sort of scheme! All I did was talk about you honestly.”

“Ah, heh. Perhaps Raz needs some time for it all to sink in. Or more drinks.”

We share another long but comfortable silence, both of us taking the occasional sip of rum. The moons are visible now, but the last rays of the setting sun still filter through the trees. My arms and legs are starting to feel pleasantly warm, and my head feels satisfyingly buzzy.

Raz breaks the silence again. “Rakh-ja was telling this one that he is in love with a Bosmer who had come through to help at the farm. They write each other letters.” He grins.

“That’s adorable,” I say, smiling at the thought. “I guess that’s what he meant when he saw Brogomir and said he wished he got letters from tiny elves.”

“He said that? Ha!” Raz seems pleasantly surprised.

“I thought he was joking!” I finish my cup. “Maybe technically telling the truth—cryptically, in plausibly deniable way—is a talent that runs in the family,” I suggest. I think I said all of those words right.

“Let us hope so, for the future Rakhzargo-dar!” Raz says, raising his cup. “Anyway, it is not so far to Elden Root from Merryvale, so Rakh-ja is doing as many extra chores as he can, so he can take days away from the farm.”

“Aww.”

“I left him a little pouch under his pillow—enough coin for his next caravan ride, and Raz’s personal favorite Bosmeri poem. Raz has had much success, being versed in poetry of the various races of Tamriel. He wishes Rakh-ja the same success.”

I refill my cup, and we silently toast Rakhzargo’s budding relationship.

“He must be pretty serious about this mer if he’s willing to do all that… stuff,” I say.

“Yes, in Raz’s lifetime he has done many stupid, embarrassing, laborious, dishonest, and/or dubiously legal things for love—well, mostly for… love-adjacent pursuits. But he still cannot imagine being so in love that he is willing to do extra chores,” Raz shakes his head in disbelief.

I laugh more loudly than I’d intended. “Raz, everything you do could be characterized as ‘being so in love that you are willing to do extra chores!’” I try to temper my laugh, which is only possible to do by taking a sip of rum.

Raz sets down his cup in mock offense. “How dare you suggest this! What would ever give you that impression!” He touches his hand to his chest in dramatic shock.

“In your defense, even Her Majesty considers the Crown’s official business a ‘chore.’” I am learning jokes! I am hilarious. “You have always promised me you would tell me the good Ayrenn stories when we were drunk,” I say, finishing the last of what’s in my cup. “Here we are.”

“Ah, it is a sadness, but you have unfortunately missed the short window where Raz is both drunk enough to be willing, and sober enough to do so coherently.” He downs what’s left in his cup. “But! Suffice it to say… the truth is much more complicated than that, five-claw.” He gets very quiet. Then, to my astonishment, Razum-dar volunteers more information than is sufficient to answer a question. “Maybe once Raz loved her,” he says, shaking his head. “Maybe he still does. No, probably, he still does.” He sounds so sincere that I’m momentarily confused.

I shake my head to sober up a bit, because this is the good stuff, despite Raz’s warning. “She never felt the same?”

He smiles. “In our younger days, Raz was so smitten with her, but back then, she never felt any deeper than a drunken mistake or two. Well, four, to be precise. And a half.”

He probably doesn’t want to hear how sweet it is that he remembers how many. “Half a drunken mistake, huh?”

“Yes—four eighths.” He shoots me slick smile to indicate that he will not be elaborating. “Anyway, now, Raz’s old friend Ayrenn is the Queen. She considers those days behind her, and truthfully, so does Raz.” He fills my cup, then his, and takes a sip.

I am honestly not sure whether to believe him. “Hm… you ‘probably’ still love her, but those days are also ‘behind you’?” I look at him sideways while sipping my rum.

His mouth is full so he wags his finger at me while he swallows a gulp of rum. “That is a very unfair characterization,” he says, swaying a little. “Just because Raz said those words in that order…”

I intensify my sidelong gaze.

He sighs. “Raz understands your skepticism, five-claw—this one would also disbelieve Razum-dar in this conversation.” He leans his head back sleepily. “But… this one’s life, reputation, physical safety, and personal pride are all already devoted to Queen Ayrenn and the Dominion. More than that… that is too much devotion, yes?”

Very diplomatic, but I can tell there’s more. I stare at him expectantly.

When he opens his eyes and notices me staring, he sits up and stares back at me for several moments, then takes a long swig, and sighs with disgust. “Fine,” he says, leaning his head back and closing his eyes again. He speaks quietly, and with very little bravado. “Raz has known Ayrenn for a long time. He was, of course, embarrassingly smitten with her, instantly—he is from Nowherevale, Anequina, and she was a beautiful Altmer princess who saw that Raz was smart enough to keep up with her and clever enough to be very valuable—of course in addition to entertaining, charming, and handsome. Ayrenn appreciated and cared for this one very much—and in many ways—but she is an Altmer noble, yes? It did not even occur to her that it was possible to have romantic feelings for someone who is not Altmer. Which was fine, as such things could never be possible for us.”

“Oh come on!” I say, forgetting that he is telling me his own feelings, rather than a very good story about someone else. “Royalty have romances with people they aren’t supposed to all the time! Having a secret affair with one’s close advisor of a different race is kind of boring, actually.”

“Ha! Just so,” Raz says, “but, that is not the impossibility.” He takes a long drink. “It is bittersweet, yes? Time moves faster, for this one, than it does for Ayrenn. We are around the same age, but Ayrenn was still gaining height, when she met this one. Perhaps you have noticed her detractors call her a child? This is because she is still a kid, by Elf standards—barely old enough to have a profession. She has had to grow up a lot, and her bedding-Khajiit-as-an-act-of-rebellion days are over—by now, it has even occurred to her that it is possible to fall in love with someone who is not a High Elf. She has always seen Raz’s good qualities, such as the ones you just forced him to admit to, even when he very clearly failed to display them. And her appreciation for him only strengthens. But while her idea of love has matured somewhat… Raz has matured much faster. As have his ideas about love. ” He looks out over the river and sips his rum.

I have some feelings about time and the way we all move through it, but I am drunk and getting personal information out of Razum-dar; this is not an opportunity I will waste. I nod thoughtfully for a respectful length of time. “Hm,” I say quietly. “That addresses the ‘those days are behind you’ part, but not the ‘still love her’ part.”

Raz glares at me. “Raz is very suspicious of people who listen to him closely enough to notice his strategic omissions.”

He sits back again with resignation, and sighs. “There is a piece of Raz that is still the selfish, overconfident, and so, so, so stupid young cat this one was when he met Ayrenn. And there is a piece of Ayrenn that is still an obnoxious High Elf princess who has never known real danger, hunger, or struggle. Those two idiots will always have a feeling about each other that is not love, but as close to it as they are capable of, and just as irresistible. Said idiots live only in our memories, in the moment in time when they both got to be in the same place. Otherwise they are gone, and this is very much for the best—for us, for the Dominion, and for the mudcrab fight rings and live slaughterfish dealers of Tamriel.” He smiles the I-will-not-be-elaborating smile again. “But those two jackasses will also live as long as we do, yes? This is more than enough—one of us is an Elf, after all.”

It’s just nice to hear him say nice things. “Raz, I am glad you’re my friend,” I say. My head is swimming, but in a nice way. The moons are very clear. It’s nice.

“Heh. Raz has not seen you this drunk before, five-claw,” Raz says, distinctly drunkenly. “Perhaps spending time with Kideya had the same effect on you that it did on this one.” He pours out the last of the bottle, some into his cup and the rest into mine.

“I’m going to say something,” I announce… “I don’t think Kidi… Kedd… Kend… your mother ever really gave up on you. Some of my best Razum-dar stories… she believed them very easily. Like she suspected all along.”

He laughs a little sadly. “You are kind to your old friend Raz, truly. But this one suspects her extracredulousity may have something to do with the messenger. It is not every day you meet the Champion of Anequina, slayer of dragons, Moon-Hallowed, savior of Tamriel and Nirni, hero of the Dominion, and so on.” He does a lazy but sincere toast to me, like he can barely lift his arm.

“Raz!” I don’t know why this embarrasses me so much, but it does. “Here I thought I was just a normal… uh… adventurous citizen to her. You told her all that?”

“Yes,” he says without hesitation, “this one had no choice. While you and Brogomir were arranging for a messenger to Alinor, Raz was testifying to your good character—so Mother would know he was not inviting a degenerate like himself to dinner. Unfortunately, Mother initially mistook Raz’s friendly admiration for a sign that perhaps there could be grand-kittens for her, down the road.”

I recoil in mild disgust. “Oh.”

“Yes,” Raz says emphatically. “No offense, but Raz had to stop that line of thinking immediately. So, he told her about you saving the world—anyone would admire the legendary defeater of Molag Bal, the one who stopped the Planemeld. Mother was stunned that her good-for-nothing son has frequently fought alongside someone whose deeds were foretold by the Elder Scrolls.” He swishes the last of the rum in the bottom of his cup.

“Ha, well, I am a little embarrassed, but we absolutely cannot have your mother expecting you to settle down.”

Raz nods. “Raz knows he’ll someday have to tell Mother the truth: unless something goes very, horribly differently than Raz has planned, there will never be kittens, and he is thorough about making sure of this. He chooses duty over all else. He has mostly stopped telling people that this is what truly makes him happiest, because it is rare that anyone believes it.”

I’ve never really thought about it before, but of course, of all people, Razum-dar would have words for something I’ve felt but never articulated. “Yes!” I say, slapping his arm in friendly agreement. “They’ll just tell you that you’ll change your mind when you meet ‘the right one,’ or when you get too old to hold a weapon.” I take a long swig. “Anything is possible, even that, but that’s not what I want for myself.”

Raz nods emphatically. “Ha! This one is glad you understand, five-claw! Of course you do!” He waves his almost-empty cup at me. “Even Ayrenn tells this one that he will slow down and find someone to grow old with. Raz thinks she just doesn’t want him to be alone, as she knows she will be—she will have to marry someone she does not love, almost certainly. But this one? He will never be alone! He has friends all over Tamriel.” He gestures again at me with his cup, nearly spilling what’s left in it. ”And, of course, he has pillow-friends in every city, for when a situation calls for deep friendship."

“Ha, cheers to deep friendship,” I say, lazily but sincerely toasting, barely able to lift my arm.

“Now, you…” Raz continues to point his almost-empty cup at me, “must have pillow-friends on different planes of existence. Raz is envious. You must tell him your secrets sometime.” He finally finishes the last of what’s in his cup, which he emphatically sets down next to him, upside down.

I nod with exaggerated modestly. “Ha, I’m flattered, Razum-dar,” I say curtly, “but if I tell you my secrets, I’ll have competition—“

“—very handsome, charming, cultured, clever competition,” he says, knitting his brow with mock concern. “Hm, yes, Raz deeply sympathizes with your problem. Fine, this one will get to different planes of existence without your help. Eh, except tomorrow, when he needs your help." He reflects a moment. "Ha, if the Psijic we are meeting is somehow not an insufferable stuck-up dweeb, perhaps this one will ask them if they would like to bring Raz to Artaeum for a night, and... stretch out time.”

“… I might know someone in Coldharbour you’d get along with,” I joke, laughing, finishing my cup and likewise smacking it upside down onto the wood of the massive oak tree’s root.

“This one has been there once or twice. Ah, Raz’s vision is blurry, it is like he’s there right now,” he laughs. “Is it by any chance the lovely Bosmer trader near the Hollow City wayshrine?”

I wasn’t actually thinking of anyone; I thought he’d know I was joking. “No, I—“

“Or, oh, the sleek and muscular Argonian blacksmith with the—“ he mimes tall horns.

“I could barely get him to talk to me; perhaps you’d have better luck? But, if you’re into big horns and shapely tails—“

“Not even you could introduce this one to the… sexy… Prince of Schemes.” He can’t finish the sentence without giggling, then breaking into full-on laughter.

“Mm, his voice though,” I say, also laughing. “Hello, handsome—” I say in a very bad impression of the Lord of Brutality and Domination.

“—the… Planemeld… is nigh… if you know what I mean…” Raz says seductively, lowering his voice ridiculously to do an equally bad impression.

We are both very drunk and laughing, wiping tears from our eyes about our not-all-that-funny jokes.

“You’re right, though…” I say, through giggles. “I probably couldn’t introduce you.” I start laughing at my joke before I can even say it. “We’re… not on very good terms right now.”

I’m laughing, Raz is laughing, pretty moons, nice friend, good rum. As I laugh, I lean my head back against the tree, and I realize how tired I am.

I wake up in a leather and hide bed, in an unfamiliar communal inn room, with the moons shining directly into my eyes through the window, and my head spinning. I’m still in my traveling leathers, but my boots are off my feet. The blanket Raz and I were sitting on earlier is wrapped around me, and there’s a large jug of drinking water on the floor next to me. I know for sure I couldn’t have done all that myself. I sit up, chug about a third of the water, and manage to get off most of my leathers before stumbling back into bed, turned away from the moons this time, smiling about a joke I don’t remember.

[pandorafallz]

Overseer AU | Final Warnings

“It’s not my fault, Okay!” Parker’s voice was the usual insufferable whine as Quaritch topped up his own glass with water as the man continued over the screen to his superior about the sudden loss of the department head of the Avatar Program given the death of Dr Rene Harper a month ago which Dr Augustine had inherited as the next best candidate

Quaritch wasn’t against the program as a whole; the notion of humans living in alien bodies creeped him out a little but he hadn’t seem much use but gas bagging to the natives. Grace was annoying as fuck but… there were far more results gained made her more bearable. Unlike Selfridge, he could be patient….mostly. In two years’ time, they’d get Sully on Pandora; an ex-marine that presented a good opportunity to get to the blue monkeys to move with less bloodshed as possible quicker than Augustine had in the last thirty.

He could wait two more years.

Sully probably was their next best option given Augustine was… well otherwise dead to the service for the next foreseeable future. The lack of Augustine mostly would seed a gap between the RDA and the natives that he’d need Sully to finish soon enough as well. He could assume the school mess, not just the death of the Avatar certainly didn’t help; not that he overly cared what the natives thought.

It just made things harder.

Still, the effect of what could happen to the avatar driver was….surprising and unsettling. The fact there were many scientists documenting Augustine’s condition meant it was not only a new condition but also, unforeseen. He didn’t think anything could knock someone as hardass and annoying as Augustine on her ass. Here he had thought the avatar body was just an easy way to escape danger when in fact, they were Trojan horses to their own actions if something went wrong out there.

At least he could enjoy the peace and quiet for the next few years until either the new avatar wakes her up or until the coma breaks. Still, as head of security, he had to make sure it didn’t happen again. Avatar drivers would probably need more security.

He’d have to ask his soldiers why they targeted one of their own avatars than the perpetrators that had damaged their equipment; he was not looking forwards to those reports…. And they’d need the avatar’s body back for an autopsy soon enough to see what bullet had struck her no doubt. He’d get an avatar group to do that; the blue faces would be better received than human ones right now.

Parker swore as the line closed off and he slumped into his seat. “Ugh.”

“It’s probably a good thing Augustine’s in a coma. She’d probably personally smash your face in with that bow for what you did to her avatar.” Quaritch nodded to the decorative piece behind Selfridge’s desk that was hung up.

“Not you too,” Selfridge pulled a face. “Look, you know why our soldiers went to the school. It’s not like we started it. Those savages have no idea how hard it is to get our equipment here and functional. Burning it…. god, it makes things so much harder!”

Quaritch raised his eyebrow in little concern for the man’s problem. “You gonna authorize the new avatar for her?”

“I don’t know. It’s goddam expensive to make and it’s not like I can order one on the next resupply fully grown in time. Given the loss was… apparently our fault given the security footage clearly showed Augustine sticking out like a sore thumb when the shots were fired…it’s a free of charge avatar body if I let her have one.”

The note of disgust was not unmissed but the comment surprised Quaritch a little. Those bodies were 5 million for a successful avatar. Another one was a dent in their recourses and no doubt in Selfridge’s books as well; it was a huge loss of investment to lose one and make a new.

Again, Quaritch didn’t care.

“So, options are Augustine remains comatose for the next few years until the new avatar is ready, or you never give her an avatar and she remains comatose until….death and you have to find a new department head.” There was no way she could leave in a shuttle in her state. It was probably more humane to check her records on NDR or if she had a euthanasia consented in the event of an irreversible condition.

“Max Patel is filling her role for now. No new avatar scientists or drivers for another two years. Either way, I’m waiting a few years that I don’t have. We need those blue bodies to work and get the ingenious to trust us.”

Clearly, Parker didn’t see the same flaw in the plan that he did with that. But he needed the program to keep going as well, so Quaritch didn’t argue against him, just took a steady sip of his drink.

“Authorise the body and give better care for Augustine while she’s in a coma.” Quaritch spoke, “It’ll look good on you like you care, the new body will show that it wasn’t purposeful and was simply an accident. Last thing you want is a bad rumor going around the base. It’ll damage morale and it’ll make you look like you don’t know what you’re fucking doing.”

“They were your soldiers. I didn’t shoot her.”

“I know. I’ll give a nice, warm talking to when I get out of here.” Quaritch spoke, “But it all reflects on you, at the end of the day, not just me” He added, “You might as well have had that gun in your hands after all.”

“Okay, fine. She’ll get the blue body. Go discipline whoever did it and just…leave me alone. I have so much more work to do now.”

 -

 “Aw, it’s so small.”

Dr Kim Greene couldn’t help herself at the coo she gave as the xenobioengineers finished with the final setup of the incubating tank where inside, the fetus of Grace’s new avatar was growing inside a makeshift organic transparent sac within the tank for better monitoring of it until it outgrew the membrane sack and absorbed it.; after that, it’d grow into the rest of the tank. The artificial umbilical cord was long but the sac helped keep it centered in the tank and not pulled when the avatar fetus moved.

The heart was beating now and rapidly through the near translucent blue skin that show the developing ribs, the fingers and toes flexed ever so often though the nubs of the tail was easy to see just as much as the na’vi queue at the base of its neck; it’s tendrils already growing out. The eyeballs were sealed behind skin though, like a human fetus, it was dark (but would lighten to yellow as the eyes developed) so relatively easy to see through the skin

“Look, tiny fingers and toes!” Kim cooed again, “Oh, I forgot how fascinating these things were.”

“You have an avatar as well, Dr Greene.” Dr Patel pointed out with a warm, amused smile.

“I only saw it when it was smaller than this and then when it was fully grown. I didn’t get to see the near entirety of its development.” Kim spoke fondly, her hands touching the glass. “Speaking of my Avatar, I need to go. Quaritch wants me and a few others to go to the school for a sweep for Grace’s dead avatar before animals eat it.”

Max sighed deeply, “You do realize the Na’vi probably buried it. It’s been a day since the attack.”

“No harm in checking. I may be in combat but I’m still a field medic.” Kim gave him a soft look though she hoped they’d bring something back for the logs. They really needed to know the cause of death. As a driver herself, she knew she didn’t want to wind up as a vegetable if her avatar died. She had almost lost her avatar once due to sickness and she had no intention of letting that happen again.

She bid a farewell to Dr Patel first then to the fetus then headed off for her assignment.

Kim pulled Dr Madaki and Dr Masterson with her for this mission, xenozoologist and a research doctor should look harmless if they come across any pissed off natives. Given the RDA had killed a few children; she didn’t expect less but she knew she had to tread a fine line with navigating with them to get what was left of the dead avatar. The school was the first place they needed to be.

Getting linked up, Kim met the two at the Samson as they were loading up.

“Side arms? Really?” Masterson was less than impressed as she handed him a holster. “Isn’t a weapon gonna trigger them into attacking us?”

“A precaution for all avatar drivers.” Kim sighed, “Quaritch’s orders.”

“The Na’vi will be bows out before we reach for them!”

“Then don’t be stupid.” Kim spoke, “we all know what’ll happen if we die in these bodies so be sensible. The guns aren’t for the natives.” The wildlife was another story; that couldn’t be reasoned with. “So don’t freak out if you see one; they can be reasoned with. Shooting at them while we’re out there puts us in the same boat of Dr Augustine.”

“Why did you have to pick us?” Madaki huffed, tightening the holder around his slim waist, making sure his tail wasn’t caught up.

“The Na’vi have seen you before. You both worked with Dr Augustine and visited the school at some point. They should know your face far better than mine. ”

“Ugh, sound logic.” Masterson groaned, “I hate that.”

Kim laughed softly, double-checking they had an avatar body bag and tools before loading into the jet.

 -

The trip was not overly long, though Kim ordered the guard to remain with the pilot while they went ahead toward the wooden school building.

The air smelt…almost normal for Pandora but there was a lingering hint of AMP fuel. Na’vi arrows were embedded into a few near trees which felt like a warning though her steps paused at the sight of the school itself.

It was designed with lightly thatched walls of wooden beams, reclining blind windows to allow air in and out, and the roof was thatched with dried grass. A combination of humans and Na’vi work to make it but now… bullet holes seemed to have struck straight through the woven walls, even the door which was barely a door, was broken down.

Getting closer, Kim realized now that blood now adorned the wooden surface of the frame and floor but there was enough that clearly splatted inwards.

“Take….take scans of the building. We need to document this. Augustine’s going to want to know when she wakes up.” She ordered. Kim carefully stepped around the blood stains, though inside, it wasn’t any better; bullets had clearly rained through the other side as well; one window was missing it’s entire blind so it was likely this was the escape for the children and Dr Augustine. She stepped over another blood stain, probably from someone caught by a stray bullet, carefully looking through the damaged window.

Outside, there were clear indentation marks of impacts on the grad underneath. Curiously, Kim went back out than jump out and knelt close to the markings though her eyes roamed the foliage around; blooded wooden shards did little comfort and—

Kim paused as she noticed the familiar lanyard string. From her waist bag, she pulled on a set of gloves and a clear bag before pulling on the string. To her surprise, the lanyard wasn’t whole, it had a clear bullet hole running through its bottom right corner with blood staining the plastic.

Augustine’s lanyard wasn’t just a lanyard; it was her security card inside the plastic pocket that allowed her access to doors, second to that, there was a memory chip from her work as well she had for her assignments. Good thing the natives didn’t know what it was, even if it was damaged.

Dr Masterson continued collecting the 3D scans of the area, taking scans of the window and the ground markings though as Kim started to follow, towards the treeline, the sight of an arrow tip pointing directly as she pulled her mind away from the path, her hands rose up to a surrender.

“Guy, hands away from weapons.” She called back.

“Kim, what—oh.”

Kim stepped back further, her tail swishing anxiously though it was a single warrior woman, her face was serious and the grip on her bow was not relaxed; ready to fire.

“We’re not here to cause harm.” Her Na’vi was not perfect but she didn’t learn it to be perfect; just enough to carry a conversation…or beg for her life. “We’re here documenting the senseless attack to for accountability of the RDA’s crimes and to collect the body of Dr Grace Augustine.”

The woman was not alone, four other warriors seemed to step out from the treeline.

“you are not welcome here.”

“We’re not here to impose, we need to collect our dead for our cultural burials,” Kim spoke again. “We don’t seek to cause harm.” She repeated, “I offer my deepest and sincere condolences to anyone hurt and killed in this attack.”

“We should kill them.” Another warrior spoke. “The risks… we cannot take it. Not again.”

“Yu’gal, send word to the Olo'eyktan of Dreamwalkers at the school.”

One warrior nodded, and she disappeared off. Kim didn’t risk breaking her stare at the arrow to see where she went. With an arrow this size, it’d do a lot of damage. A neurotoxin wasn’t as harmful to Na’vi or the avatars; it’d certainly suck for sure if they were nicked a little with it but with where that was aimed; it’d kill her for sure.

Still, it had to be a quicker death than what Augustin had if she made it deeper into Omatikaya territory under her own steam.

Kim took the hint to move, her colleagues doing the same until they were huddled together. They waited perhaps ten minutes— though Kim lied through a check-in that everything was alright—before anyone else came to them.

She recognized the tall, decorative frame of the Omatikaya’s Olo'eyktan quickly as he rode upon the back of the Direhorses, a strong bow in hand but thankfully, nothing notched. Kim was more surprised to see the Tsahìk as well.

This was not a good sign if both of them were here.

Eytukan jumped from his Direhorse with practised ease, his head held strong and eyes unforgiving. Broadcasting strength and weight of leadership that… make Selfridge look like a toddler eating glitter glue and Quaritch like a juvenile with fake tats and piped up on his own conference. In a heartbeat, she felt well and truly intimated by his presence. Her ears lowered back, not meeting his hash gaze.

A flurry of new warriors also seemed to line the trees as well; running would see the deaths of their avatars. She had to hope she could talk this out.

“What are you called, Dreamwalker?” Eytukan’s hard words were spoken in English.

“Doctor Kimberly Greene. My colleagues are Doctors Zane Madaki and Doctor Ryder Masterson. I’m a medic while the other two are research scientists of plants and animals.” Kim spoke, glad for once her voice didn’t waver, “We’ve been sent to collect Dr Augustine’s body and to collect evidence of the attack that occurred here.” To cover their basis of why they were here again.

The Tsahìk moved this time, her eyes narrow and careful. “What happened to Graceaugustine’s sky person’s body at her death?”

That was a very specific question, referring to the avatar no doubt.

“She…went into a state of shock and had a grand mal seizure in her link bed. From what I was told, she experienced a cardiac arrest event whilst in treatment.” It was probably why Augustine was still on life-support but she doubted they’d understand that aspect so, Kim didn’t mention it.

The Tsahìk’s head tilted, though seemed to nod with some sort of agreement. “I see.” She straightened up with an edge of discontent. “Her body was returned to the ground in a sacred place so you will not be taking her body. Her…belonging she had upon her, we will return.”

Kim spared a look to Madaki though returned her gaze to the Tsahìk as she collected something from a large pouch looped around the direhorse’s behind.

From it, familiar shorts were neatly folded and bound with twine, and it was clearly the rest of Dr Augustine’s personal belongings. Kim opened her arms and accepted them but the Tsahìk’s hand lingered on top for a moment longer before she pulled away the headband with some reservation from the pile and nearly kept it; neatly coiling it in her palm and tucking it away out of sight.

Kim opted not to argue with that. Maybe the Tsahìk and Dr Augustine had been friends; another personal loss for her as well

Though it seemed Eytukan even gave her a lingering look but chose now was not the time for a discussion about it.

“You will go now. Know this, five children were killed by your people’s hands. My eldest daughter included. Any Dreamwalker or sky person found wandering unaccompanied and damaging our jungle will be met with a swift and sudden death.” Eytukan spoke, “Your kind is too dangerous.”

  -

“Sa'nok, come help!” Grace’s head turned from her work with a warm smile as Neytep held out a series of beads and woven twine out to her.

Her form shifted from human to her avatar with ease as she abandoned her work to sit down beside the young girl as she set the beads back into the little dish at the foot of the Hometree roots.

“What are we making today?” Grace was no expert in weaving or… crafts but clearly, the girl was excited to show her.

“Well, a loin cloth! See these seeds are dried out. My sister used to make mine and now, I want to show you how to make it! Weaving is a very important skill, Sa'nok ”

“Well, I’m sure whatever you’ll make will be beautiful but… as a sky person, loin cloths aren’t something I wear.” She pulled lightly on her cream outer shirt. Neytep eyed it, her fingers coming to touch along it then began to fiddle with the beads that hung down in her hair.

“You could try it? Don’t you always ask us to try something before we decide not to like it?”

Grace couldn’t help the soft laugh, of course, the little one would use her own logic against her. Still, she could humor the child.

“I suppose so.”

“Maybe next we can talk about song cords..”

Grace’s head turned to see Sylwanin crouched on the end of the Hometree spiral. In her hands, she hands a cord of beads and knotted twine, her fingers touching over them with reverence.

“I suppose. We have all the time in the world, after all.” Grace figured; no one was disturbing them and the children were happy. She was fine with that.

[paintedscales]

FFXIV Write 2023 :: Day 27

Prompt :: Sole Characters :: Nomin tal Kheeriin, Ralne Dalduos (brief), Lorha Keipah (brief), R'ayzel Mhazu (brief; belongs to @blossomblade) Word Count :: 1,484

FFXIV Write 2023 Master List

Coming back to Gridania after dungeon crawling and traveling the lands had been an amazing respite. However, Nomin had lamented how worn her shoes had ended up becoming since she and the others had done more and more for the Scions and general Adventurers' Guild. Sitting upon a stool at their usual table in the Carline Canopy, Nomin had brought one of her feet up over her knee to get a look at the soles of her boots. A frown grew on her face as she sighed with a hint of frustration.

"Something eating you, Nomin?" Ralne asked, folding her arms over top of the table as she leaned forward.

"Ground's just been getting more and more noticeable going from place to place…" Nomin remarked, running a finger over the worn rubber of her sole and noticing how thin it really felt as she could feel her finger through the wear. “I might have to find someone who can either fix them up, or sell me some new ones.”

“Have you tried looking at the Fen-Yll line of leatherworks?” Lorha asked, placing her bag on the table. “I hear the Guildmaster that runs the line is quite particular about the quality of the products sold. I mean…a lot of their bags get used by scholars in Sharlayan because of how long they last. I imagine their boots and shoes would be ideal and more than fit for travel.”

Nomin placed her foot back on the ground, a thoughtful look crossing her face.

“I suppose I could do that while we’re here… If I recall, the Leatherworkers’ Guild is just a small walk away from the Shaded Bower stalls…” Nomin then smiled to herself. “But let’s go ahead and get something to eat before we tackle anything else. I can’t imagine talking to anyone else without getting at least something in my stomach.”

“Best thing you’ve said yet today,” R’ayzel commented, turning her head to look over to where one of the waiters were so that she could flag them down.

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

“No order in advance, no product. Now if you would, we have a number of actual orders to get ready and fulfill.”

Nomin stood there, stunned at the idea that she would have had to have placed an order in advance to ask for some shoes that she could have for the road.

“I…but…h-how do I even submit an order? How long would I have to wait?” Nomin asked, her words sputtering in disbelief. She had never encountered such a requirement when she had traded in places like Reunion or Kugane in the past. Ul’dah’s Sapphire Avenue Exchange, even with as crowded as it was, had been easy enough to navigate.

“Listen…” the woman at the counter said, placing a box down with a restrained huff so as not to dent the boxes with her impatience. “The Fen-Yll name is known all across the realm of Eorzea. You can’t just stroll in here and expect to be placed as the priority customer. Even if you’ve got deep pockets like some of the Syndicate members in Ul’dah.”

“I…then…then can I make an order now? How long will I be on the waiting list?” Nomin asked, feeling some semblance of being overwhelmed by this whole experience.

“A couple moons, maybe? Could even be a couple years…”

Nomin’s mouth fell agape at the idea of waiting years just for boots.

“How are adventurers supposed to have wares ready for them and the jobs they take on?” It was a genuine question steeped in apparent disbelief.

“They buy other shoes from the markets, sweet thing. And then they use those for however long it takes their order to be ready. Now, if you don’t mind, I am quite busy making sure everything gets out on time. Fen-Yll ensures quality in everything.” The shop clerk had removed another box from a shelf, her attention firmly set on checking the dates that were tacked on the memos on them.

Suppressing a sigh of both irritation and that residing disbelief, Nomin turned for the doors and left the establishment. It was only after she had allowed the doors to close behind her that she let out a little grunt of frustration at what felt like a ridiculous situation. She then sighed finally and tried to rationalize it in her head -- that if she were selling paintings, and they needed to be a certain kind of painting, she might have to have a waitlist, too.

Still, though…she would have thought that the shop would have had goods that were for sale, though it seemed that whatever goods could be seen were simply for display.

Making her way over toward the Shaded Bower, Nomin meandered till she had been in the Rosewood Stalls. She peered at the wares that had been for sale -- tabards, gauntlets, lances, canes…things that were all very suited for those that attended the guilds of Gridania. She finally made her way toward someone that had boots and shoes on display, and met the merchant’s smile with a halfhearted one of her own.

“Um…do you have anything suited for an adventurer?” Nomin finally asked, doing her best to sound more neutral rather than anything else.

“Depends… Are you a spell caster of sorts? Are you more versed with martial weapons, perhaps? Maybe you prefer using a bow and arrow?” the merchant questioned, bringing a hand to his chin.

“I use a bow and a lance,” Nomin replied. “Honestly, I’m just looking for something that keeps my feet and shins pretty well protected without hampering my movement. Nothing overly armored. Hardened leather, or something.”

Hesitating, Nomin leaned down and unlaced one of her boots before taking it off her foot and held it up. She showed off the wear and tear, mostly on the underside, but it also looked like the seams were also coming loose from the sole as well, creating little gaps where her toes or heel could peek through.

“I see! If that’s what you’re looking for, let’s see if I can find you something…” the merchant said, taking the boot from Nomin and using it to compare sizes between it and newer boots. Eventually, he had come back with three other pairs of boots that were roughly the same length and size that would fit Nomin and placed them in front of her. He then pointed between each one: “this one’s a more local one, hardy for sure, though with a hint of suppleness. Then we have raptor leather -- not as comfortable at first, but once broken in, is much more protective, especially with the treated scale hide. Last is peiste leather from the basilisks of northern Thanalan; it’s a little bit of the best of both worlds, and therefore a little more pricey. But if you have the gil to spare, it’s certainly worth it.”

Eyeing the peisteskin boots, Nomin then cautiously asked, “... How much?”

“It’ll run you up about three-thousand-five-hundred gil.”

Nomin tapped her thighs for a moment, furrowing her brow in thought. Between herself, Ralne, R’ayzel, and Lorha, they had amassed quite a bit for themselves. More now, since they had proven themselves pretty capable in the eyes of both the Adventurers’ Guild and the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.

That was when Minfilia’s words echoed in her mind.

“We are fortunate to have a number of influential allies, and at a word from me, they will gladly afford you certain privileges that might otherwise be denied you.”

For a moment, Nomin considered going back to the Fen-Yll Fineries building and bringing up the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, though quickly reconsidered. After all, this merchant had gone out of his way to take a look at her own boot, the wear of it, and even asked about what kind of general adventuring lifestyle she led that would have allowed him to pick one he felt was most suited for her. So, tentatively, Nomin reached for her gil pouch and counted out her coin, soon placing the appropriate amount that she had to buy them.

“The soles won’t wear out too quickly on these, will they?” Nomin asked.

“They’ll last you a while, so long as you don’t make a habit of traveling close to flames where the rubber might give,” the merchant said in a joking manner. He then put the other boots that Nomin had not made an effort to look at, and made sure the amount paid was enough before sliding the boots in question forward. “And if you need any repair work done, I think I might be able to help you out there. So long as the boots haven’t been ripped to shreds.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you…” Nomin looked at the sign at the stall and read it. Worldly Treads. Something she would absolutely have to remember the next time if the shoes served her well.

[chickenparm]

... OK fine that last one wasn't a real prompt

Pagan Min pretending to be completely oblivious to the EFFECT he has on Reader while teasing her/them mercilessly?

OH BOY OH MAN i've never written pagan before so i don't know how much justice i'm about to do, but god willing i'll do my best for you. also this is like 1k words cause i don't think i could squeeze all i want in just 500 oops

---

Paul himself had been very frank with you. More candid than he’d ever been, as few as those times speaking with one another had been. 

“He’s very particular. You understand? Do exactly as he says, as he wants, and you’ll be fine.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, but an uneasiness settles in your bones as the minutes pass, and you’re left alone in the kitchens, waiting for Pagan Min to make his appearance and potential demands. 

You’re under absolutely no illusions that Paul would protect you if something were to go wrong. While you have a particular set of skills that he enjoys and values, they’re not something that can’t be found in any number of other people. You just happened to be convenient and within arm’s reach. 

Listening carefully for any sound of footsteps, you let yourself relax enough to inch toward the only source of warmth in the room - the lit fire. Holding your hands close enough that the heat borders just on the edge of crisping your edges, you take a moment to gather yourself back into some semblance of composure. 

“It’s just Pagan Min.” Turning your palms toward yourself to warm the backs of your fingers, you exercise a futile attempt at self comforting. “He’s just a man. A stylish man, but just a man.”

“Style is subjective; all in the eyes of the beholder.”

Your blood freezes all over again, the chilled air is no match for the drop in temperature that comes with his arrival.

“If we’re going to be trading compliments, I’m a fan of the… shabby-chic aesthetic that you’re maintaining here.” Footsteps that are no longer silent round the long table in the center of the room. Effortlessly, he rounds a corner that you often stumble over in your hastiness. From the corner of your eye, you spot pink.

“Pagan Min. Stylish man, ruthless tyrant, and apparently now some form of gorgon, considering you refuse to look at me.”

He doesn’t get to finish tsking at you before you snap your head in his direction and take in a sight you’ve only ever gotten to witness on static-filled television screens. There’s boundless amusement and not much else, and while you’ve never been good at reading people, even you can tell that the lack of further emotion is deliberate. A mask.

Dark eyes flit through the room, taking in the prep table, the shelving, the stove and oven that you’re leaning dangerously close to. And for a moment, the smallest bolt of shame shoots through you before you realize that you’ve never had control over your workspace. Nor have you had any pride.

With a gloved hand plucking at his lower lip absently, Pagan seems to take mental notes of anything and everything. From the peeling plaster to the dented wok, nothing escapes his notice. It barely registers to you as you fall into a trance thanks to the pink of his lip. Even in the low light, it shines. You’re almost certain he’s wearing some type of balm to combat the chilly winds.

It snaps back into place as he pulls his hand away, and you frantically look down at his shoes in favor of being caught by his knowing eyes. Though, you understand well enough that he had to know what you were thinking. The way your shoulders hunch speak a thousand words.

Pagan’s shoes are shined, unsullied, and more than likely new. Suddenly, they’re the most interesting in the world for the span of time it takes him to snap his fingers and regain your attention all over again. As if he’d ever lost it.

“Skittish little thing, aren’t you?”

That gloved hand glides along the well-worn tabletop before it plants firmly and supports his leaning weight. One ankle crosses over the other and all at once he’s smooth lines that are accentuated by a cocked hip and the light of the fire dancing across impossibly high cheekbones. You’re enraptured, and by the way his eyes wander over your shoulder, he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

You’re not sure which you’d prefer.

Abandoning your personal space, Pagan rounds the table again in favor of moving across the room to where he’d been staring over your shoulder. It’s obvious where he’s headed, considering not much is over there beyond a few covered bowls kept close to the open window to keep them fresh for dinner later this evening. 

Methodically, he checks each bowl one by one, examining what’s there before covering them exactly how’d you had them before his meddling, then moving to the next. One in particular catches his eye as he lifts the fabric covering it. 

Turned away, you can’t see his expression, but a pleased sound leaves him - low, gravelly, straight to somewhere you desperately didn’t want to encourage at a time like this. You’ve heard fear can enhance these sorts of things, but this is too much. Too inappropriate.

But even his excitement is making your very bones vibrate at a harmonic resonance, like you want to share in it for just a moment. With all your willpower, you refuse yourself the honor. It’s not your place, and while Paul had said to only do as Pagan instructed, you had a feeling that there was something unspoken there about not wanting to sprawl across this table-top and make every attempt at seduction.

Any shoring of your perverse feelings is swept away when he sweeps his index finger through the contents of the bowl and brings it to his lips. Again he hums, through his nose but it comes from deep in his chest. His satisfaction is undeniable, and you’re frantically cataloging the two back-to-back sounds you’ve been gifted, however undeliberate they might have been. 

His jaw works as his tongue cleans the digit thoroughly of the filling you’d be using that evening. There’s a wet sound as he pulls it from his lips, then turns to you with a knife-like smile, almost sly in nature. “This rangoon will be something to die for.”

[maniacwatchestheworld]

Some Brief Propaganda

Fellow Tumblrites and Bat-enthusiasts. I come to you today asking for you to find it on your heart to vote for Gilda Dent in this latest Batman Sexywoman tournament held by @batman-heritageposts. If you stood with team Two-Face during the Batman Sexyman poll, I would hope that you can understand why I feel compelled to campaign for Gilda as well. I love her and she's absolutely radiant. If you voted for Two-Face before, I would hope that you can find it in your heart to vote for Two-Face's beautiful wife who can and will murder you as well. u.u

But to sweeten the deal a little, I have written something for all of you eager voters today. A little fanfic about Gilda and Renee. If you vote for Gilda, I will consider writing more of it. So without further ado, here it is.

(Sorry if I botched Renee's writing a little. I'm more familiar with Gilda and her various incarnations than Renee, and I haven't gotten around to consuming any media of Renee as the Question yet, but I tried my best!)

---

It was a series of murders. In Gotham City, that’s what always seems to start it... 

They were just like before. A killing. Once a month. Every time, a holiday. A calling card relating to that holiday left behind at every crime scene along with the weapon- a gun with a baby bottle nipple used as an improvised silencer. With his more flashy antics in more recent years, many people had forgotten. But those of us on the force when it all started didn’t. There were two primary suspects. Calendar Man or…

But Julian Day was safely locked away in Arkham Asylum, ranting and raving, angry over how he was being copied. Again. Just like the first time. Which just left Holiday.

He had broken out again. He seemed to be a master at that. Some were certain that he only ever went to Arkham Asylum because he wanted to be there. Everyone knew that he had connections on the inside. And he had resources on the out. People weren’t even surprised when Harvey Dent broke out of Arkham Asylum these days. The killer had to be him. He was Holiday after all.

After everything he put me through, everyone recommended that I stay away from the case. I convinced everyone that I had. But it was a lie. I had to get involved. I would bring him in, and no one would have to know that it was me. But then something unexpected happened.

Everything went according to plan. I knew who he would kill next. I made contact. We would set a trap together. Make it easy for him. Just as he would go in for the kill, I would stop him. Trap him.

I had expected him. Harvey Dent. Two-Face had to be the killer. But what I didn’t expect was her…

She managed to get away. No one else realized... But I know what I saw. This Holiday wasn’t Harvey Dent. It wasn’t Two-Face. Holiday was a woman. And I recognized her.

Her name was Gilda. Gilda Gold. I had met her a handful of times before, but always in passing, and never for long. She used to be his wife. Back before he was Two-Face. Back when he was still Gotham City’s District Attorney. Reports said that she had moved away from Gotham. Apparently she was back. But why? And what was she doing? Had he put her up to this? It didn’t sound like him. He had spoken about her before. Not very much, but it was clear to me that even after all of these years, he still loved her and thought the world of her. Albeit in his own way. But what would I know? I don’t think I’ll ever understand his particular brand of crazy. But if he hadn’t put her up to it, that left a much more disturbing question. Was she a copycat killer? Or even more disturbing... It was a question that I intended to answer one way or another.

I found where she was living. Some cheap apartment in the Narrows. If I had to guess, she had moved in a hurry. Just as well. This was a neighborhood where people didn’t tend to ask questions if they knew what was good for them. Give the neighbors enough incentive, and they would turn a blind eye to just about anything.

It did occur to me just how ironic it was. Me stalking his ex-wife after what he- It didn’t feel good sneaking into her apartment.

It was supposed to be a quick in and out. Find the evidence. See if he had gotten in contact with her. Get out.

This first room that I had snuck into seemed to be a workshop of some kind. Tools, vices, odd objects here and there. A detail about the crime scenes came to mind- the guns left behind at the crime scene had serial numbers that had been manually filed off of them. Could this be where the guns came from- where their numbers had been filed off? But as my eyes adjusted, even stranger shapes began to take form… Faces in the darkness.

Wood, stone, clay… The materials were different, but the faces… These busts… She recognized them… Here among the tools and odd, half formed shapes was a collection of statues of him.

How old were these statues anyway? Where did she get them? Some of them were disfigured, made horrific just like the man they were modeled on, yes, but others… They looked just like he did before…

“Some of my best work. They're a little old now, but I still think that I did a really good job of capturing him. What do you think?”

The voice startled me as a light was flicked on. She wasn’t supposed to be here. How did she manage to sneak in so quietly? This was a mistake. I’d been caught. I should leave before she has the chance to-

“I thought that you might track me down. It’s alright, I’m going to do anything to you. If anything, I would like for you to be my guest. In fact, I’d appreciate it if you took a seat.”

I could only watch as she moved towards a stool that stood near the center of the room upon which a slab of wood rested. The upper half of the block had a shape carved into it that resembled a human head. She took a chisel in hand before skillfully carving the shape into a more refined form.

“The Question, right?”

I had to shake myself from a trance. I couldn’t stop myself from staring at her biceps. She was wearing short sleeves and coveralls, and her arms were just as sculpted as the statues around us.

“W-what?”

“That’s what they call you, right? The Question? I try to keep up with the kinds of people that Harvey associates himself with these days- you can never know when one of them might try to use me to get at him after all- but I have a harder time keeping up with the heroes. But I think I’ve heard of you before. And you’re The Question, right?”

“Y-yes. Let me-” I let out a deep breath. “You seem to have quite the obsession with your ex-husband.” I motioned towards the statues I had been examining before.

That seemed to make her pause. “Maybe you could say that…”

“If you aren’t then what’s with all of the busts of him over there?”

“Work.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m a sculptor. And Harvey... He used to be my muse. He was my favorite muse. That’s why I wanted to marry him.” She leaned back with a smile of fond memories on her lips. “He was always so beautiful. My Apollo. But then everything with the gangs happened and… Well… You know.”

“But you keep sculpting him?”

“Well… He’s still my Harvey. He’s still my perfect muse. People may not think so anymore- he might not think that he’s beautiful anymore… But he is. He’s never given me the chance to tell him… Always rejects the idea outright when I’ve tried. He thinks that he’s hideous. But a few scars like that was never enough to scare me away.”

“Didn’t you divorce him?”

“... Yes. But it was only at his insistence. He’s afraid of hurting me. He’s certain that as long as I stayed in his life, that I was in danger. Always just one bad coin flip away from killing me… He begged me. I couldn’t say no to the way he looked at me… So I accepted. I filed the divorce papers like he asked. But that doesn’t change anything. If he needs space to recover, that’s fine with me. But I still love him. I don’t think that I will ever stop loving him… Even if he…” She drifted off, but it wasn’t hard to catch her meaning.

“... He’s not worth it.” I couldn’t keep the tone of bitterness out of my voice.

“Perhaps not. But I’m willing to wait.”

“And what if after all this waiting, he doesn’t love you anymore?”

“That’s alright. He may have been my favorite muse, but he isn’t my only one. I may not want to move on, but if he’s gone on without me, I can go on without him.”

What a perfect little wife. Loyal to her man until the end. At least until he wanted to do away with her. But that just left the question… But before I could ask it, she said something that I wasn’t expecting.

“You’re beautiful.”

Obviously that had taken me by surprise. “W-what…?”

She turned the block of wood she was sculpting to me. The resemblance to my face was uncanny.

“How did you…!?” I put a hand to my face to make sure that the mask was still there. The smile she gave me made my heart skip a beat.

“When I saw you the other day… I thought that you must be beautiful. I had to sculpt you. So what do you think? Is it close? I can’t make out the specifics, obviously, but with the way that the fabric pulls over your face… I can make out the shape of it all. The cut of your chin, the curve of your cheekbones, the angle of your brows, your nose… Your lips… I wanted to see it for myself… But I can only guess what your eyes look like… I would simply love it if you let me see your face…”

I paused.

Was I actually considering…? No. I came here with a purpose. I had questions and I needed answers. What was I doing letting myself get distracted like this? I had a job to do! Even if she was pretty, and her eyes…

“When was the last time Two-Face got in contact with you?” I asked.

Turning the block of wood back to her, she seemed to consider it for a long moment. “I believe that would be the last time I visited him at Arkham Asylum. He’s lousy at keeping in touch with me these days. Too busy with his criminal enterprises and whatnot. It’s up to me to try and contact him. But that’s difficult when he isn’t at Arkham Asylum. But I do try to visit when I can.”

She still loves him… And she still visits him at Arkham Asylum. The thought of it made my stomach churn. I had visited him at Arkham once. It wasn’t because I wanted to see him or keep him company or anything like that. I was on a case and had questions that needed answering. I was certain that he could answer them. That was all.

He had once told me that he loves me. The feelings were never mutual. He said that he wanted to be with me and did what he could to try and prove his ‘love’ to me. His fucked up version of it at least. And all along he had this woman waiting for him? Still loving him after the kind of monster that he became? It made me feel sick.

“So you’re saying that he didn’t put you up to killing Thorne last Tuesday?”

“What would make you think that?”

“Well, he’s Holiday. Why else would you want to try to kill a well-known gangster like that?”

“That is the question, isn’t it?”

“Are you going to answer it?”

“Am I obligated to? I’m not under oath right now, and even if I was, I have the right to not incriminate myself. And while I don’t intend on pressing charges, you did still break into my home. Are you wanting a confession out of me? Why? So that you can try me? Given your method of receiving any such evidence or confession, it would hardly be admissible in court. Unless you want to claim that you’re an officer of the law, in which case, I’d like to see a warrant.”

That brought a smile to my face. “Leave it up to the ex-wife of a lawyer to make this difficult.”

“Oh, that’s not Harvey’s advice speaking here. But I can get another lawyer on the line if you’re wanting to make this difficult. They always told us that a lawyer that defends themself in court has a fool for a client, and I know plenty who will defend me in my place.”

“Us?”

“Would you believe that I graduated from Oxford?”

“With an art degree?”

“And a law degree.”

“And you chose to be a sculptor.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I was good at it- practicing law that is. But I was never quite as driven in the same way that Harvey was… He needed to practice law- to prosecute and punish criminals just as much as he needed to breathe. And if we wanted to start a family, at least one of us had to stop and make time for it. I had my sculpting, and I could still do that at home, but Harvey… Well… I don’t think that he could have stopped himself even if he tried.”

“Must have been difficult…”

“For others, maybe. But I didn’t mind per se. I knew the man I married. He was doing what he had to. And he was doing good.”

“Until the day he took it too far.”

Gilda let out a laugh. “You mean the Holiday killings?”

I was taken aback. “You disagree?”

“Now that’s a question, isn’t it? Harvey was always held back by the law… We had talked about it, you know. He said that if the Maronis and the Falcones just up and died, it would make his job so much easier. There would be so much less crime in Gotham. Maybe for once he would have some free time and then… Well… Maybe we could finally have that family he had always wanted… But then again, maybe that was never my story to tell.”

“Not your story to tell?”

Gilda seemed to be thinking in the silence. “Do you want to know the true story of the Holiday killings?”

“... Yes…”

“Why?”

“... Maybe it’s more to satisfy my own curiosity than anything else... And I want to know how you’re involved.” It was an ugly bit of honesty.

“... I could tell you everything. Things that the police got wrong. Things that Batman doesn’t even know. The truth that only Harvey and I know…”

“Batman…? He’s wrong about-?” I don’t think that I had ever heard Batman being wrong about anything like this before.

“I don’t think it’s his fault, mind you… Harvey spun a convincing story that everyone wanted to believe… And so they did... I think that it’s just easier for Batman to accept that only Harvey could- ... Maybe he just didn’t want to get his heart broken twice… Or maybe too much damage had already been dealt, and he’s willing to let Harvey carry all of the pain and guilt on his own since he decided to take responsibility for it regardless… He always was a good friend…”

“A friend…?”

“Maybe more. Harvey was certainly interested. Maybe I was too.” That raised another question, but before I could ask it, she spoke up, breaking the forming thought. “How about this. You can have my confession. I’ll satisfy your curiosity. But in exchange you satisfy one of my curiosities.”

“And what would that be?”

“You let me see your face.”

I hesitated. This would be stupid to agree to. I couldn’t just compromise my identity like that. What she was asking was too much. “... Okay…” But I still agreed to it. I think it was her eyes that made me want to agree. Very pretty… So innocent, almost doe-like. And yet still intelligent and containing some sort of depth that I couldn't quite make full sense of. That and all the questions that I knew would go unanswered if I just let this go.

The way that she smiled at me made my heart beat just a little faster. Some part of me thought that it was worth it just to see that smile.

“Harvey was never the Holiday killer. I was Holiday.”

“How…!? Why?”

“It’s been so long… The how is fuzzy even for me. But as for why… Maybe it was because I loved him… Maybe if the biggest perpetrators of crime in Gotham City were dead, then my Harvey could have some free time and we could start a family… Or maybe it was revenge for what those families had done to me, and I just wanted to see the darkness inside of Harvey finally come to light, not caring if he got hurt in the process. Or maybe it was to pursue the kind of justice that Harvey was never able to accomplish for himself, always being restricted by the confines of the law… They deserved to die for the crimes they had committed. All of them. Regardless, it’s not really my story, is it? And if it’s not my story… Why do my reasons matter…?”

There it was again. Her saying that this wasn’t her story. “Why do you say that?”

“That this isn’t my story?”

I nodded.

“That’s simple. When people talk about the Holiday killings, that Long Halloween, what do they say about it? That it was what finally made my Harvey snap and become Two-Face. That it was his origin story. Or maybe it’s the story of how Batman lost one of his few first allies and closet friends… And he doesn’t have many of those, does he? I may have been the killer, but if the story is about how Two-Face came to power or how Batman lost a friend, then is it really my story? Or am I just a bit player in it? What do my reasons matter if the story is not and has never been mine? In the end, people always fall back to their image of me and don’t think that my story is worth telling… A worried, crying housewife that’s waiting for my love to come back to me… A victim of my husband’s insanity and crimes… And now what will you see me as? Just a killer? Does anything else about me matter if I’m just another killer in this city? Maybe that’s all I can ever be. Two-Face’s killer wife… Nothing more…”

“... Do you really believe that?”

“What else is there to believe…?”

The look of resignation and despair on her face made my heart sink in my chest. I thought that she had to be wrong… Surely… Surely there was more to her than just being a killer… Surely her story mattered to someone out there in some significant manner.

I glanced to the statues that surrounded us. She was an accomplished sculptor. She was a lawyer… She still loved that monster of a man even after all this time and all the crimes he did… I remembered the way that he used to talk about her… Even now he still thought about her sometimes… And maybe she was one of the few things that could save him...

A thought occurred to me. Maybe what I was seeing in her were the same things that drew Two-Face to her... Or maybe they were the same things that drew him to me. The idea of it made me feel ill. But another part of me thought that he was stupid for letting a woman like this go and slip through his fingers when she still clearly loved him. A lucky man. But too stupid to see what he had.

But even if I expressed these thoughts out loud, I didn’t think that any of them would offer her much consolation… But maybe I could do something that would make up for it… Maybe there was at least one thing I could do to bring a smile back to her face.

I approached, getting closer to her until she was in my arms. It was my turn to keep up my end of the bargain. “Would you like to do the honors?” I asked, and her face seemed to light up. This was a stupid move for certain, but seeing her face light up from resigned despair like that… It made me feel simply wonderful. Maybe that’s what she was good at- her secret superpower. Making otherwise intelligent people be stupid for her and somehow still making it feel rewarding…

“Can I really?” she asked as if she hadn't expected that I would actually let her see my face, and I chuckled.

“Of course. You gave me your confession, Holiday. Now it’s time for me to keep up my end of the bargain.”

She brought a hand to my mask and touched it, feeling the fabric. Taking her hand, I guided her fingers to the edges of the mask where she could peel the fabric away from my face.

I could feel her breath escape her once the cloth was removed and my face was revealed to the light.

“I was right. You are beautiful.”

After a compliment like that, of course I had to let out a chuckle. “I’m not the only one…”

She started blushing. “I feel like I’ve seen you before somewhere… Maybe in my dreams?”

Now she wasn’t the only one blushing as I began to laugh outright. “I thought that you were loyal to Two-Face.”

“He isn’t my only muse.” She pretended to put on an indignant expression, but there was a playfulness to her movements. “Has anyone told you that you would make for a gorgeous Lady Justice?”

“I can’t say that anyone has.”

“Speaking of… I think that I recognize you now… You’re that police officer, aren’t you? Officer Montoya, right?”

“Police commissioner these days, actually.”

“Oh! Well congratulations on the promotion, then! Very naughty of you to be going out on the town dressed like this then.”

“Caught me dead to rights.”

But the air of laughter was stifled by tension upon what she said next. “... You’re the one he fell in love with, aren’t you…? You’re Renee...”

I had to look away from her. Even if I didn’t say anything, it seemed that she understood.

“I… I see… I’m so sorry… You didn’t deserve to be… I’m sorry. I assume that’s why you decided to take on the costume to investigate these killings?”

I nodded.

“... I wish that I could make it up to you…”

“It’s not your fault.”

“That doesn’t mean that I don’t want to make it better if I can.”

“Is that what makes you still love him after all this time…?”

“Maybe… Maybe I can’t help it. I mean, he can hardly help it either… Maybe I’ve always been a fixer… Maybe I just can’t give up on someone even when they’re beyond hope… Maybe that makes me stupid…”

“Or maybe it makes you a hero the likes of which Batman and I could never hope to be… Maybe it makes you courageous and faithful.”

That smile was back, even if it was faint now. “Harvey told me about you, you know. He said that you were kind to him… And for someone like him, that means a lot.”

“Well, he completely misunderstood it.”

“I know… Maybe a part of him knew… But then decided to ignore it… It doesn’t make it right. I don’t know if anything ever could… But I’m glad that you still showed him kindness in a world that can have so little of it.”

Her smile was captivating and if I had something to say, it was soon lost in her eyes. They were eyes that shone with clear intelligence and were bright, reminding me of the sky on a clear day.

“Or maybe… Maybe I can make it up to you…” I only barely heard her mutter the words before she pressed a finger to my lips and I fell completely helpless to her charms.

I could see her leaning in closer to me and I couldn’t stop myself...

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Remember to vote for Gilda in the Batman sexywoman tournament held by @batman-heritageposts, and maybe I'll write more!