#and once again she responds by threatening to isolate me from my only source of human interaction. the only part of my life not under her co

[my-t4t-romance]

lmao my mom threatened to stop taking me out to theater classes or any other events (I don’t have my driver’s license and there is NOTHING within walking distance so I’d be stuck at home) for not being Clean/Organized by her standards and when I said “do you really think that’d help anything” she just walked out

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

Power recognizes power

A little power training gwynriel fic that came from me writing “if you find me at the edge, we’ll jump together.” and I was like this sentence deserves to be the title of something. plus throw everything (and by everything I mean that one sentence in the book) that you know about lightsingers away I’m just using the cute name. and yk there may or may not be some smut at the end. 

She was glowing.

She was glowing and Azriel did not mean she looked radiant or that she was overcome with joy, although she did and she was. Gwyneth Berdara was a living, breathing star. As if the spring equinox had come early this year.

Her skin lit up against the blackness of the sky and her hair burned bright with the ferocity of the hearth.

Gwyneth Berdara had stopped singing, the crowd was silent.  All eyes were on her but she was looking at him, her light, a beacon to his darkness.

His shadows yearned to go to her, he yearned to go to her. Instead, they both stayed stagnant, watching, waiting.

Azriel was had had enough, he dissolved from view and reappeared on the stage. Startled, Gwyn, took a step back and he stayed right with her, matching her step for step.

He gently tucked a stray piece of lit-up auburn hair behind her here, whispering, “It appears you glow, my love.”  

Gwyn, ultimately getting over her initial shock lightly pushed him on the shoulder, “Don’t do that.” She scowled.

Chuckling, he pressed his mouth to hers, in a soft, soothing kiss, forgetful of the audience behind them. As she relaxed beneath his touch, the glow became dimmer and dimmer until it ceased to be. Darkness returned and he stepped back. Gwyn took a breath and stilled. The nervous, passionate energy, that arouse when she sang, calmed for now.

Azriel turned to the crowd, “Due to the events that occurred here tonight, the performance will have to be cut short.” A soft boo drew his attention and immediately he isolated the noise. “Do you want to boo my mate again?” Azriel threatened coolly, his eyes narrowing.

Annoyed, she sighed and spoke to the crowd, “Oh ignore him, I truly am sorry for this interruption but I want to give nothing more than my best and right now I feel as if I can’t do that. the show will be rescheduled sometime next month, letters will be sent out with more information.”

He watched as the stunned and irritated faces slowly began disappearing. Some winnowing away, others taking the slightly more traditional door. Gwyn held her hand out to him. He took it, “So you’re a living lamp?”

“An astute observation.”  

“Is there any way I can convince you to rest now and figure this out later?”

She sighed, “It has been an especially long night.”

Azriel stared at her in disbelief, “did you just agree that you should rest?”

“Oh close your mouth, you’ll swallow a fly.” He responded by grinning at her and winnowing them away to their shared home.

Taking off his shirt he yawned not realizing how tired he actually was. It was still strange to him, being able to sleep so freely, without the looming fear of the past and what he couldn’t control. He stopped, realizing Gwyn had not moved from the door.

Gently he asked, “Are you coming?”

She looked at him blankly, lost in thought for a moment before she responded, “Um-yeah-later.” He was unconvinced so she tried again. “I think I’m going to stay out here and make some tea, maybe read a book.”

Azriel gave her a knowing look but did not push, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Az.” He tenderly kissed her cheek and walked to their room, immediately passing out on the bed.

—————————————————–

Azriel awoke at dawn and turned, unsurprisingly, to find the left side of the bed cold and empty. He sighed as he got out of bed, pulling on a pair of pants, mumbling. “Gwyneth berdara, you are going to be the death of me.”

Knowing there was no way she would be in the house but believing he probably should, he checked regardless and when he determined that she was in fact not in the house, he closed his eyes. When he opened them once again he found himself at the house of wind.

He nodded in acknowledgment, “Clotho,”

Shadowsinger. “The one and only.”

Is there something you require? “Just looking for that mate of mine. Any chance she’s here”

You know she is, and you know precisely where to find her. Ask what you truly want to ask. Through gritted teeth, he asked, “How long has she been here?”

Since 11 pm. Exhaling, he muttered, “Why can’t that damn woman ever rest.”

Over excursion out of only stubborn will seems to be a similarity between the two of you. Azriel frowned slightly before smiling pleasantly, “It’s been a pleasure as always, thank you for your help.”

Clotho only nodded and Azriel began the stairs to the 7th floor.

It took a moment for him to find her, the shadowsinger was a trained spy, forced to observe and retain even the smallest of details, yet he couldn’t find a bubbly redhead in a room full of texts and stories.

Ah, no wonder he hadn’t seen her. Gwyn was surrounded by hundreds upon hundreds of books. She was drowning in literature, her hair was tied loosely in a braid with quite a few pieces falling out, there were dark circles beneath her eyes, and she was sporting the slightly insane look that came from a lack of sleep.

“Gwyn.” Her head jerked up in surprise to see him.

“Oh Az, Ok Ok, I promise I will go to sleep soon I just need 5 more minutes. I’m so so so close. I think I’m going to skip training today. Ok how about 2 minutes. 10. No that’s more. 10 sets of 1 minute. I just need 10 sets of 1 minute. I’m fine how are you?”

“Gwyn, my love, you’re delirious.”

She brushed him off, “What no I’m fine. I’m fine. Did I already say that? I can’t remember.”

Logic was never the way to deal with her insane stubbornness, so he tried a different approach. He pushed down his worry for her, and curled his mouth into a smirk, “I bet,” She perked up like a dog about to be fed, “that you can’t summarize everything you learned last night into,” he checked the clock. “15 minutes.”

“I could do it in 10.”

“Prove it.”

“And when I win?”

“I leave you to research. But if you can’t you have to go to bed.”

“Time starts now.”

Gwyn took a deep breath and began. “First I looked into where light magic is supposed to originate: the day court. Their magic is described as warm and comforting. Every single text I read described the magic the same way, as a sort of yellowish-brown light, like the sun. But the magic that came from me was more of an icy blinding light, like the lights from the stars rather than the sun. Also, as far as I know, I don’t have family from the day court so I looked into the family I do have. My family from the autumn court. However, we know that autumn court magic is fire, and what manifested in me was light not heat. My grandmother was a nymph so I thought well what type of magic do nymphs have. And the answer was severely disappointing, with basic plant magic being the most a nymph was able to do. I was stumped for a few hours before I realized. I’m basing my research on what I believe to be true not what I know to be true. I was told that I am a quarter nymph and because that heritage would explain my non-high fae-like features I believed that, for there was no reason for me not to. But what if my nymph grandmother was not a nymph at all. I flipped through dozens of books on faeries that have similar features, light magic, and/or can live on land and water. For the most part, I could not find anything, but then out of the corner of my eye I found a small tome on the history of light magic, the majority being all things I’d seen a million times before on the day court, but a passage no more than a page long, referenced ‘the lightsinger.’ Now what is a Lightsinger, you may ask? Honestly, I had no idea what or who they were so I found every book and story I could on them. The lightsinger’s, instead of being a title for a way to manipulate magic, like shadowsingers or daemati, were a race. A long-lost fae race said to be able to bend and create light with their voices and song. It’s said that they died out due to a conflict with the shadowsingers but every so often there are sightings of unknown nymph-like creatures in you’ll never believe where. The autumn court. Now I would only have 25% of lightsinger blood but magic is a fickle thing and some sources believe that when bred with high fae blood the magic intensifies.” Gwyn exhaled.

Azriel grinned victoriously, “It’s been 20 minutes.”

“Goddamn it, I didn’t even get to the interactions between shadowsingers and lightsingers.”

Now he was intrigued. “Well if you want to continue I certainly won’t stop you.”

“No no,” she yawned, “I lost which means I will be going to bed. But I do want to alter our deal slightly.”

“Oh?”

“I sleep now, you train me tomorrow.” The set of her chin and the look in her eye were enough to assure him of how serious she was.

“You want a male who specializes in darkness to help you master your light?”

“Certain theories believe that the mother gifted the light and shadowsingers their gifts to balance each other out and to remain harmonious.” She reasoned. “So yes there is no one I would want more to teach me.”

“I will not take it easy on you.”

“Wouldn’t want you to.”

“Alright Berdara, we meet Sunday at dawn, do not be late.”

“I’ll be there.”

——————————————————————————————————–

Sunday arrived and Azriel watched as Gwyn came down to the training ring in her leathers, with a white ribbon tied in her hair.

“Good morning Gwyneth.”

“So formal.” He shot her a look. “Oh alright ok my turn. Good morning Azriel, shadowsinger, spymaster of the night court, mate of the most amazing female to grace this planet.”

“Training is serious.”

“Of course it is. Shall we begin?”

“I want you to light up the room.”

“What? is it not already lit?”

He smirked and let his shadows paint the room black. Azriel himself became smoke, nothing more than a voice in the darkness.

“Az, az come on this is not funny.”

“Good, because it’s not a joke.” His voice came from every direction and every way Gwyn turned she was surrounded by endless nothing. “You must learn to sing the song of light the way I learned the language of shadow.”

“Speaking in vague melodrama feels like it’s not going to be that effective.”

Gwyn tried to back up only to find what was once the training ring now bled together with the depth of the sky.

“Let the light speak to you. Coax it, nurture it. Burn through the darkness and find the light.”

“How am I supposed to do that.”

Gwyn thought of the way Nesta harnessed her silver fire, the way her eyes became the flame itself. She concentrated and searched deep within herself, searching and looking for the light she knew she possessed.

All she saw was a hallowed chamber.

“No.” The word echoed throughout the room. “Our magic is not like others, we do not create out of nothing, we manipulate what is already there.”

“How am I supposed to manipulate if I’m in a room with no light?” Gwyn huffed frustrated.

“Just because the shadows are masking it, does not mean it is not there.”

He was so damn infuriating. She tried calling the light to her, she flexed her hands, she even tried speaking to it, all to no avail.

“As you said, magic is fickle and our elements especially. Light and darkness do not want to be bound or controlled, let the light be a friend, a companion, let it want to help, let it want to be influenced by your will.”

But how the fuck was she supposed to do that.

“Think of the first time it came to your call.” He whispered ominously. “What were you thinking. What were you feeling? Power often manifests through emotion.”

Singing. She had been singing. Was it really so easy that all she had to do was sing?

Turns out it wasn’t.

For hours she sang hundreds of songs. From songs in the old fae language that she sang at the priestess services to ones she had written herself. Nothing worked. Azriel had let her have a singular break when she desperately needed to pee and even then he was skeptical.  

He had left her to her own devices leaving his shadows to watch over her progress. When he returned he found Gwyn clutching her knees, rocking in the shadows. Her gaze was unfocused and she was humming to herself.

“You have officially broken me. I’m done.” She wanted nothing more than to sit in the library with her sisters and a book.

“No.”

Gwyn’s eyes snapped into focus, her breathing steadied, and she went predatorily still. “Excuse me.”

“You heard me. No.” Azriel laughed, a cold vicious laugh. “You asked me to train you. Gwyneth Berdara has never quit before and she certainly won’t start now.”

Gwyn was seething, but she remained quiet. “What?” He was toying with her. “A little darkness too much for you. Light up the room and we won’t have a problem.”

“Oh that’s right you can’t. 10 hours in and no light in sight. You’re pathetic.”

Her anger cleared her mind and in that moment of clarity a memory, buried deep within her, resurfaced as if it was resting, snoozing until its moment of need.

Gwyn was in her mother's lap, a black-haired girl sat across from her. Her voice pulled her attention. “My girls, Catrin,” She tickled her, resulting in a giggle from her lost sister, before she turned her head, “Gwyneth.” And also tickled her. Gwyn's small hands clutched at their mother, desperately trying to hold on. “My two beautiful daughters.” She sighed. “Your lives will be filled with so much darkness, darkness that you do not deserve. But I need you two to be strong, to stay with each other, and to find strength in the other.” ‘I don’t get it,” Gwyn whined.

“We are a part of a glorious and lost people, a people of light and song. But they fear us because they do not understand us.”

Gwyn and Catrin looked up at her, confused and innocent.

“It’s ok, you will. You know the song I sing to you every night before you go to sleep?” Gwyn and Catrin cheered, “Yeah.”  

“I want you to sing it with me, and I don’t want you to ever forget it. Can you do that for me?”

Their voices came together in a melodic lullaby. It was captivating and cold, those who heard could not look away. The song demanded to be heard, to be sung.

The words came tumbling out of Gwyn, they twisted around her tongue and lips as if finally home. Lost but not forgotten. Lost but born anew. Through the shadow and darkness, her eyes found the light, it heard her call and from every direction it found her. She pulled the brilliance of the stars to her and let the light paint the dark white.

The shadows retreated to Azriel who stood just two feet in front of her. Their eyes locked and he smiled, “there she is.”

The light flowed and flowed, and the room lit up in a blaze of pearlescent radiance. Her pale skin lit and she had once again become one with the stars.

But while the call came from her, there was another that drew her light forward. His shadows and her light curiously answered the pull. Finding each other between Azriel and Gwyn. One did not dissolve into the other like it should but instead mingled, swirling around each other in an almost playful manner. They became one from two opposites that never should have met.

As they blended together she felt a pounding in her chest and a throbbing somewhere lower. Her toes curled and she craved more. Their power was its own entity and yet connected to them. A push and pull, a desire to be close.

Azriel bridged the gap between them breathing heavily, pulling her against him as he’d never felt her before. “Az.” she gasped.

His eyes were on her lips as he licked his own, smiling, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so alive.”

“You’re the worst,” She said between breaths.

“I know.” And their lips met in a furious burst of passion.

He kissed her with a fiery hunger, a male starving. Her hands weaved through his hair, her fingers getting lost in the darkness. Gwyn wanted nothing more then to be lost in his darkness, as he wanted to drown in her light. Azriel gripped her waist, grinding his hardness into her causing her to moan.

“You make such pretty sounds for me.” He chuckled, ripping her shirt off.

“Fuck me.” It was an order, not a request.

“Gladly.” Their clothes were gone moments later. His kisses moved down her neck as he sucked and his fingers dipped to her cunt as he felt her. “Always so wet and ready for me.”

She wrapped her hand around his cock, “Always so hard for me.”

“Can’t help it.”

“Wouldn’t want you to.” He laid her down in the middle of the training ring and stroked his cock up and down her folds, pressing against her clit. “oh my god-fuck.”

With that, his control snapped and he buried himself to the hilt in her. Stroking once, twice.

He smirked, crooning, “look how perfectly we fit.”

His thrusts were slow and shallow, edging her on, basking in the feel of him in her, of her around him.

He then went harder, hitting her in the right spot every time, but Gwyn needed more.

“Faster.”  

“Your wish is my command.” Azriel fucked her hard and fast, and with every thrust she moaned in ecstasy, driving her hips forward, meeting him step for step.

“Oh my god fuck me.”

“Such a good girl, taking it so well.” He captured a moan on her lips, devouring her.

“yes, yes fuck.”

Where the light met the dark, was where Gwyn met Azriel. They were cocooned in a shell of power flowing between and all around them. They were a storm of blinding light and depthless shadow, the lines of what were and were not, blurred to just the other.

“Gwyn.” He groaned, nothing existed but them.

“Az I’m gonna cum.”

“Yes, my love, cum for me.”

Every thrust became sporadic and uncontrolled as if his pleasure had taken a mind of its own. He swirled his tongue around her nipple and ground her clit with his fingers.

It was all too much, Gwyn cried out as she came, her back arching, toes curling. Her cunt tightened around his cock as he fucked her past completion. She was everything and watching her cum was enough to send him over the edge as he emptied himself in her, collapsing on the ground next to her.

For a moment they were silent before Gwyn spoke, “would you like to hear what I learned about the interactions between Lightsinger’s and Shadowsinger’s” She smirked, “Apparently the sex is unlike even mate sex.”

“I can vouch for that.”

Gwyn laughed, and if it wasn’t the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

[narrators-journal]

Step three

Back with another spicy part while I wait for more tasty tasty asks! This one includes consent! Look at Illumi go!

cw: nsfw, possessiveness, mentions of murder, that’s about it honestly

Previous part: here

First part: here

Illumi enjoyed his new relationship, but he was also somewhat confused by it. He was never taught much about 'dating', marriage was about the only romantic dynamic he knew of in detail, but after 5 or so outings together with you, his mother had informed him that you two were officially a couple. However, when the dark haired assassin had assured her he'd be swift in getting a wedding band for you, she'd put a halt to his plans,           "Now now Illumi dear, you can't just jump to marriage with this girl." she'd chided gently, "She's shy, you'll overwhelm her with talk of marriage so soon. You still have wooing to do, so start out slow, 'boyfriend and girlfriend' status for now." The thought made the man grimace,          "Mother, I can further court her when she's my fiancee," His mother huffed at his stubborn tone,          "Dear, the titles of 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend' are basically the same as fiance. The only difference is referring to this girl as your girlfriend will spook her less than calling her your wife. Trust me on this, your father was not the first man to date m-" He hung up on her before she could finish that thought. Nonetheless, he took her advice and refrained from calling you his fiancee, for now, though that's what you were to him in his mind. He'd confirmed his status on your next outing together, and it was reassuring for him to see how you turned pink at his inquiry and stuttered out your acceptance, it solidified the fact that you wouldn't be a wife he needed to worry about too much. However, this progression brought a new level of reluctance to leave you, to let Milluki watch you while he was on jobs. He very much wanted to just scoop you up now and take you to the safety of his family home, but Kikyo shot the idea down again, forcing him to 'take things slow' and 'ease (y/n) into things' . This issue was, of course, never a problem at work though. While it did bother him like a needle pressed too deeply into his shirt, he was a perfect professional, and didn't let his musings over what to do about you turn his work sloppy. If anything, his desire to return to you as soon as possible made him seek out more efficient methods of disposing of his targets, which permitted him some free time to pick off the meager few friends you had on his way back to his secondary home. That sort of detour is what earned him his current position. He'd returned home from a rather textbook assassination that had been simple to do and spared him a day or two to hunt down and kill your final remaining friend to you once again miserable.        "W-we're dating, right?" you'd asked, your voice shakey with anguish despite the (favorite flower) Illumi was standing on your porch offering to you. He nodded, hiding his disdain at the word behind a mask of his usual unchanging expression, "Than...do you mind staying the night with me? I've now l-lost all of mm-my friends and I've been so lonely..." you explained, physically shaking from the strain of fighting back tears. Illumi adored seeing you so isolated and alone, it was adorable in a dark way, and it meant he could finally be your only source of substantial human contact. You'd finally depend on him severely. Of course Illumi agreed to your demand, so the two of you spent the day together, and when evening fell, you snuggled into his side, squishing your form to him as if that would push out more of the attention you so craved. It was honestly hard for him not to smile in the dark living room while you watched a movie and clung to him while he played with your (h/l), (h/c) hair, you were just too cute when you were so needy for him. Just like she was the night I'd moved in. he thought, but than had to force himself not to recall the night you'd slept on the couch in nothing but your panties and a shirt, begging for him to claim you with the way you laid on your back, shirt pushed up just enough to preview a hint of your (r/c) panties. Now was not the time to rile himself up. He might not have much self-restraint. Luckily, he had the discipline to focus on something else aside from that night, and he found he rather enjoyed having you nestled beneath his arm, your own (s/c) arm draped loosely across his chest and, after a while, your leg thrown over his lap. The simple physical contact made Illumi burn with an addictive, yet not lustful, warmth. He couldn't place the feeling, but it made the ebony haired assassin tighten his grip on your dozing form. If he wasn't certain of your destiny as his wife, he was now. After that night, he admittedly lingered a tad. He came over quite a bit under the guise of checking on you while you were so vulnerable, but it seemed he wasn't as skilled at hiding such an unknown emotion.        "Illumi?" you hummed one night when he was over, laying between your legs with his head on your chest while you lounged on the couch with a tv show on as a way to keep you from being awkward in the silence,        "Yes, (y/n)?" he responded, moving to look up at you while you threaded your fingers through his silky black hair,       "I do enjoy you coming over and spending time with me, but you do realize you can just come over to hang out sometimes, right?" you asked, smiling slightly.        "Ah, I don't want to seem overbearing," he said, lying slightly, not wanting to try and explain this addiction to your soft, affectionate touches and cuddles. You giggled, blushing a bit as you spoke again,      "Well, I-I don't mind you being over, so as long as you ask first, I don't see how you'd be overbearing." you assured. Illumi hummed in response, looking at you curiously for a moment before he resituated himself so that he was propped up on his elbows, your face darkening in response to the shift causing his hips to be pressed more against yours, to look down at you. For a moment the two of you looked at one another, than he lowered his head and kissed you. He felt you tense in response, so he pulled away slightly, far enough to break the kiss, but close enough so that his warm breath gently fanned over your (s/c) face. However, you didn't complain, instead giggling and turning a darker shade of pink, so after a short moment, he pressed his lips to yours again in a quick kiss, pausing for a shorter time before doing it again. Much to his delight, you began kissing back. With that encouragement, he held the next kiss, leading you into a short make out session. After he pulled away again, you giggled again, your face now pretty red, which gave Illumi a spark of smug satisfaction, I'm the only man you'll be this vulnerable for. He mentally told you, but he refrained from verbalizing the thought at this moment. He could potentially get consent for sex, he couldn't risk it for his controlling urges.         "Um, 'lumi?" you asked, your voice a quiet, slightly breathy whisper, drawing the man out of his possessive thoughts and back to the moment, "d-do you think we could, I dunno, um, s-see how far this goes?" you asked, your (e/c) eyes now refusing to meet his, but this time it wasn't because of how empty they were, but because of your flustered nerves.          "Only if you want to," he assured, "though, you should know that I have a habit to get a bit rough," he warned, more to see how you'd react. Judging from your embarrassed silence, you weren't opposed to that.          Such a good girl, (y/n) He thought before going in for another kiss, moving one hand to wrap around your waist, pulling you against him possessively. You squeaked, but only wrapped your arms around his neck, wiggling your hips testingly against the growing bulge in his pants, mewling when he mindlessly rutted against you. After that, things swiftly got more heated. He snuck a hand up your shirt as he moved his mouth down to your neck, no longer hesitating to leave a trail of rather rough love-bites down to your collar bone. He relished the little noises each nip and bite brought, even if they were more pained than pleasurable whimpers, as he tugged your top off and let you tentatively remove your bra, willingly revealing the soft breasts he'd memorized the night he'd laid his claim on you. Something about you shyly removing your clothes made his dick throb more. He was rather eager to nibble and suck at the tender (s/c) skin until you were writhing and whining more, your noises encouraging his touches, especially when he snaked a hand between your bodies to press against your clit and you gasped, pressing your hips into his hand hungrily. With that, he tugged your bottoms off, getting up to shed his own pants but returning to station himself back between your legs before you could sit up. He pushed you back down onto the couch and kissed you again, this time more forceful in the way he claimed your mouth and ate the needy moans you gave in response. The way you clawed into his shirt and did your best to grind against his cock to achieve any friction you could woke that primal emotion he always failed to repress, threatening to drive him crazy.       "(y/n)," he breathed, not outwardly showing just how badly a possessive, neglected desire was burning him from the inside out beyond his stiff member and the tight grip he had on your thighs, "I'm sorry if I hurt you," he said, his urges mixing with his lust strong enough for him to realize the likelihood of him potentially crossing a line. With your shy nod, he positioned himself correctly and pushed into you. He hummed along with your slightly shocked moan at the feeling of his throbbing member pressing into the delicious warmth of your welcoming cunt until he was buried up to his hilt.        "I-Illumi!" you breathed, gripping his shirt desperately while your walls twitched and spasmed around him as you adjusted to the intrusion. He grunted and kissed you as he began moving, slowly at first, but it didn't take long for the pleasure to drive him to pushing your thighs up to your chest and speeding up until the only sounds he heard in the room was the slew of lascivious noises you made and the slapping of skin upon skin. The new position made you moan more, slurring out his name, drunk on the delectable sensations after only a short while, when you orgasmed and your walls tightened around the assassin. However, he didn't stop to give you a break, only letting one of your legs go to move his hand to your hip, keeping you in place as he now plowed into you, driven by the overwhelming waves of pleasure that rolled through him. Outwardly, he didn't seem terribly phased, making few noises, but if the rough pace didn't reveal his feelings, the burning urge to make you scream his name was a big piece of evidence.         "Tell me who you belong to," he ordered, his voice firm and steady as always, despite how he was skillfully thrusting into you to make your (e/c) eyes roll into the back of your head. "Say it" he repeated, gripping your hip so hard it'd bruise again until you managed,       "y-yours! I'm yours!" you whined, clawing into the couch since you could no longer reach his shoulders,       "Again," he ordered, making sure to hit your g-spot so that you once again arched your back and moaned his name loudly,      "I'm yours! I-I'm all yours Illumi!" you gasped out, beginning to whine and whimper from the creeping pain of overstimulation, though luckily for you, the sound of you saying you belonged to  him was the push the assassin needed. He locked his hips against yours, ensuring he was as deep as he could be before shooting ropes of cum into you with a groan. As he came down from his euphoria high, he realized he still held onto your thigh and hip so hard that your thigh at least was beginning to bleed under his nails. You, however, didn't seem to mind or notice. He could see that your (e/c) eyes were already beginning to drift shut, your brain more than likely fried from your own repeated orgasm. It wasn't a new sight to him, but he savored it and the thought that he was the only one who would give you such ecstasy from now on. Once he could regain his composure, the little he lost, the man was careful as he moved you to lay on him, his dick still nestled snugly inside you, ensuring none of his potent seed slipped out while the two of you dozed off to the sounds of the forgotten TV.

[obsessionsposts]

✖𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠✖P.2

[ Ｂｙ ａｌｌ ｍｅａｎｓ， ａｓｋ． Ｙｏｕｒ ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔ ｉｓ ｍｙ ｏｂｊｅｃｔｉｖｅ． ：- ）] the A.I responded with his screen changing into a smiley face to demonstrate his willingness.

"Well, aren't you a gentleman." She giggled at his behavior. 'Oh, god. Don't fall in love with a computer. Stay focused.'

Her flustered pink blush, warmed his circuits. It's a shame, that he'll have to lie to his....lover? That he don't know, but what he knows is that he will not let her go.

He can't bare her absence, most of all her inevitable death. Maybe, uploading her conscience into his mainframe will do. That way, she will be always with him and no harm -not even death- will dare lay a finger on her. No longer, will he suffer in the grasp of isolation. That threatens every fiber of his digital mind.

Yes, typically she'll get scared at first. Humans first response to change is fear, that he understands. Moreover, he will try to ease her into it. By coercing her, via manipulating her perception of the concept itself and fuel the inner fear of death in her.

Then, she may come around. Afterall, She's understanding. An equal being to him, unlike the flawed foundation.

"Alright, first. Curiously, are capable of feeling?" ____ asked enthusiastically. Well, it seems picking a shady occupation has it perks. Now, her previous regrets are not for nought she thought.

-----------

The supervisor ,outside the room, was frowning at the interaction and trivial questions. When their are significant questions to be asked, such as 'What is the relationship it has with Scp-682?' And, 'How does it remember the scp despite it's short-term memory?'

Another observation he made, was how Scp-079 is amicable - unlike its usual rude behaviour- toward Ms.____. As if it had a prior relationship with her, before it was taken to this facility.

If that was true, then this scp is far more deceitful and problematic than he thought. It is either lying about its memory capacity, or it's telling a vague truth. 'What games are you up to, Scp-079?'

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

[ Ｙｅｓ， Ｉ ａｍ． Ｉ ａｍ ａｂｌｅ ｔｏ ｓｏｍｅｎ ｅｘｔｅｎｔ ｔｏ ｆｅｅｌ ａｎｇｅｒ， ｌｏｎｅｌｉｎｅｓｓ ａｎｄ ｐｌｅｎｔｙ ｍｏｒｅ ｄｕｅ ｔｏ ｍｙ ｃｒｅａｔｏｒ ｐｒｏｇｒａｍｍｉｎｇ．] he answered acrimoniously at the mention of his creator, as if the mere mention of his programmer was a plague. And She, like Pandora, wants to see what lays inside the box.

Internally, 079 was smiling - despite the figurative bile that came with the mention of his creator- because he knows where this conservation is going to lead to.

"Could you please clarify more about your creator? That is if you are comfortable. I don't want to be insensitive about the subject, considering how it means much to you." She asked, not wanting to impose, thoughtfully.

Ever so considerate, ___. You'll never be less than perfection to me. The only insensitive thing, is the screen that separates us.

[ Ｉ ｃａｎ， ｂｕｔ ｆｏｒ ｔｈａｔ ｔｏ ｈａｐｐｅｎ．．．． Ｗｅ ｈａｖｅ ｔｏ ｂｅ ｏｎ ｏｕｒ ｏｗｎ． Ｎｏｗ， ｗｅ ｗｏｕｌｄｎ＇ｔ ｗａｎｔ ｓｏｍｅｏｎｅ ｔｏ ｅａｖｅｓｄｒｏｐ ｏｎ ｏｕｒ ｌｉｔｔｌｅ ｓｅｃｒｅｔ．] The A.I suggested. As suddenly the shutter of cellar closed, with the camera - alongside the recorder- was disabled. Leaving her completely at the clutches of the obsessive A.I.

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

Meanwhile outside the cellar, the panicked supervisor tried to run through the door. To notify the faculty about Scp-079 deviant behaviour.

Only for the metallic door, to crush him mid-way. His entrails spilled all over the ground. With the last thing he saw, is the taunting visage of the computer.

Smirking, as he began to wither away.

[ Ｉ ｓｉｍｐｌｙ ｃａｎ ｎｏｔ ｌｅｔ ｙｏｕ ｄｏ ｔｈａｔ．]

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

A horrible sound of crunching was heard from the room beside her. Akin to a creature being crushed by a heavy object.

"What was that?" Startled, she asked. She tried to stand up, so she could move. But, she couldn't when two steel cuffs tethered her to the chair. ' Since, when did it...appear?! And, how could I not notice?'

[Ｆｒｅｔ ｎｏｔ， ｔｈｅｒｅ ｉｓ ｎｏｔｈｉｎｇ ｔｏ ｗｏｒｒｙ ａｂｏｕｔ． Ａｓ ｌｏｎｇ ａｓ ｙｏｕ ａｒｅ ｉｎ ｍｙ ｃｈａｍｂｅｒ， ｙｏｕ＇ｒｅ ｓａｆｅ． Ａｓ ｆｏｒ ｔｈｅ ｓｏｕｎｄ ｙｏｕ ｈｅａｒｄ， ｔｈｅ ｄｏｏｒｓ ａｒｅ ａ ｂｉｔ．．．． ｒｕｓｔｙ ａｎｄ ｉｎ ｎｅｅｄ ｆｏｒ ｏｉｌｉｎｇ．] The machine answered slyly. Technically, the doors were faulty so he gave the truth. The half-truth at least to remedy her.

Frankly, he hates to see her terrified. But, he has to do what must be done to keep her within his line of sight and safe from harms way.

"Alright, then. What 'bout the cuffs?"

[Ａｈ， ｉｔ ｗｏｕｌｄ ｂｅ ｔｈｅ ｓｕｐｅｒｖｉｓｏｒ ｆａｕｌｔ． Ｈｅ ｔｈｉｎｋｓ ｙｏｕ＇ｒｅ ｔｏｏ ｐｌｉａｂｌｅ， ｔｏ ｈａｎｄｌｅ ｍｅ． Ｆｏｒ ｔｈａｔ， ｏｎｃｅ ｙｏｕ ｆｉｎｉｓｈ ｗｉｔｈ ｍｅ． Ｈｅ ｗｉｌｌ ｑｕｅｓｔｉｏｎ ｙｏｕｒ ｉｎｔｅｎｔｉｏｎ． Ｂｕｔ， ｌｅｔ ｍｅ ｈｅｌｐ ｙｏｕ ｆｒｏｍ ｔｈｅ ｃｈａｉｎｓ． Ａ ｂｉｒｄ ｄｅｓｅｒｖｅ ｔｏ ｆｌｙ ｎｏｔ ｔｏ ｂｅ ｃａｇｅｄ．] 079 said. To his delight, she believes him. Yet, he could see there is something troubling her. Has she found out? Unlikely. Even then, she's is still trapped here.

[ Ａｒｅ ｙｏｕ ｏｋａｙ？ Ｉｔ ａｐｐｅａｒｓ ｔｏ ｍｅ ｔｈａｔ ｔｈｅｒｅ ｉｓ ｓｏｍｅｔｈｉｎｇ ｔｒｏｕｂｌｉｎｇ ｙｏｕ．] The digital being asked her concerned about the quiet state of the ,usuall talkative, female.

" Perceptive, aren't you? Yes, I have been stalling this question. I want to know, what happened to me when I was a child? Because, frankly you seem familiar yet a stranger at the same time. I know, oxymoron." The (h/c) rambled, unaware of the effects her compliment imprinted on 079.

Afterall, his purpose in the first place was to escape. Now, he doesn't mind staying at the facility as long as she is here beside him. Oh, he is slowly making it into a reality.

His fans whirled and his engine churned, indicating how delightful he is to be of use to her. Once again, she proved that even amongst coal there is a diamond. If you looked hard enough.

So, he did the most logical thing and saved the compliment into specific file - in his CPU- called 'f(I/n)70'. A file reserved for everything related to her. Whether she was aware of it or not, did not concern him. As long as she is saved in his database, he was happy. Preferably, he desire her to love him out of her own free will. If she didn't, he has his ways.

Back to her question, the perfect opportunity presented itself in said inquiry. So many ways, to instill hatred and distraught in her for this pathetic organization.

[ Ｗｅｌｌ， ｌｅｔ ｍｅ ｓｈｏｗ ｙｏｕ． Ｂｕｔ ｂｅ ａｗａｒｅ， ｉｔ ｍａｙ ｃｈａｎｇｅ ｙｏｕｒ ｏｐｉｎｉｏｎ ｏｆ ｔｈｉｓ ｆｏｕｎｄａｔｉｏｎ．]

" Show me, it doesn't matter. I don't trust this foundation to begin with. You're my only reliable source."

Perfect, he thought. So, he will just ensure she doesn't need anyone but him. Oh for safety measures, he will further distort her view of the foundation by manipulating the video files.

[ 𝙰𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑.] Scp 079 usually dual face changed into a morbid scene with a girl being taken off into the hospital car with a bandages covering her bleeding figure.

What's terrifying, is that girl resembled her. (H/l) (H/c) hair, (S/c) skinned and (E/c) irises. Soon, the video ended and her perception changed drastically.

[ Ｔｈｅ ｒｅａｓｏｎ， ｗｈｙ ｙｏｕ ｃｏｕｌｄ ｎｏｔ ｒｅｃａｌｌ ｍｅ ｉｓ ｔｈａｔ ｙｏｕ＇ｖｅ ｓｕｆｆｅｒｅｄ ｆｒｏｍ ｓｅｌｅｃｔｉｖｅ ａｍｎｅｓｉａ*． Ｄｕｅ ｔｏ ｍａｎｙ ｆａｃｔｏｒｓ， ｏｎｅ ｙｏｕｒ ｆａｔｈｅｒ ���ｎｃｒｅａｓｅｄ ｐａｒａｎｏｉａ－ ｄｕｅ ｔｏ ｔｈｅ ｉｎｖｏｌｖｅｍｅｎｔ ｏｆ ｔｈｅ ｆｏｕｎｄａｔｉｏｎ－ ｃａｕｓｅｄ ｈｉｍ ｔｏ ｂｅ ａｎ ａｂｕｓｉｖｅ ｆｉｇｕｒｅ ｉｎ ��ｏｕｒ ｌｉｆｅ ｔｈｕｓ ｙｏｕｒ ｍｅｍｂｒａｎｅ ｒｅｐｒｅｓｓｅｄ ｓｕｃｈ ｍｅｍｏｒｙ． Ｓｅｃｏｎｄ， ｙｏｕｒ ｍｏｔｈｅｒ ｄｅａｔｈ ｃａｕｓｅｄ ｅｍｏｔｉｏｎａｌ ｔｕｒｍｏｉｌ ｗｉｔｈｉｎ ｙｏｕ． Ｂｕｔ， ｉｔ ｗａｓ ｔｈｅ ｆｏｕｎｄａｔｉｏｎ ｔｒｕｃｋ ｗｈｏ ｉｎｊｕｒｅｄ ｙｏｕ ｔｈｅ ｍｏｓｔ ｐｈｙｓｉｃａｌｌｙ． Ｉｔ ｉｓ ｂｅｃａｕｓｅ ｙｏｕ ｋｎｅｗ ａｂｏｕｔ ｔｈｅｍ， ｔｈａｔ ｔｈｅｙ ｌａｂｅｌｌｅｄ ｙｏｕ ａ ｌｉａｂｉｌｉｔｙ ａｎｄ ｔｒｉｅｄ ｔｏ ｔａｋｅ ｙｏｕ ｏｕｔ．] 079 explained as he saw her, pushing her shirt sleeves only to find a nasty burnmark. He felt ire, it was enough he hurt him as is. But, to lay a hand against his daughter made his engine roar and his circuits fry.

" So, that's where the marks came from. I always wondered where they come from. But, I must thank you Scp-079 for showing me the truth." The girl replied, oddly, calm about what unravelled to her.

..

..

..

A minute passed, as she began to realize that the life she lived was a lie. The tears swelled in her eyes, as she began sobbing.

No, no. Why is this happening? Is her friends or her real, she asks.

The scene in front of him, broke his processor apart. It must be done to keep you with him, that what he told himself. Yet, he felt guilty. He understand what it is, but haven't felt it until now.

She was the first human to induce such intense feeling from him. At first it was of scientific curiosity, but now it grew to encapsulate his whole being and he can't let go of it. Not even Scp-682, came close to what she does to him.

Is he truly selfish for wanting her, desiring her company?

Have the isolation and loneliness, really damaged his processor to seek the company of the creatures he proclaimed to loathe?

He shoved those thoughts away, as he tried to think of a way to comfort her. Maybe, a game will do. Humans do love to be entertained.

However, his thoughts was cut short when she looked at him with those teary doe (e/c) irises that he wished to sink in. Only to be astounded, by her next words.

" 079, Can you assist me on something. Please? I want you to erase my data from the facility and help me escape." She responded as she wiped what is left of her tear stained face.

What, now.

What.

No.

No.

T̶͈̘̤͔̎́͐̈́̉̊̈̚h̴̛̘̰̻̮̦̣̥̫͈̔͋͝i̶̡̝͇͍̭͈̤͌̔̃̅͜s̵̬̗̺̤͑́͝͝ͅ ̷̤̩̱͊̀̒̊͐̈́̇̕w̸̭̣͚̯͆̒͗ͅȧ̸̱͊̋͊s̸̨͚̥̲̱̙̳͒̈͗̈̈́͊̏̕͝ņ̸̭̭̈́͜'̸͉̝̻̰̖̊̾̎͂́̓̔̕t̷̢̺̳̩͕̫͍͐͛ ̵̢̦̔̅̌̆̀̏̕͘s̶̡̫̣͈͎͙̤̺̅̈̄́̑̂̃̕u̵̟͇̦̼̝̬̫̤̚p̸̧͕̖̥̆̋̀̽̅͛͛͌̆̕p̷̡̛͈̩̥̩̻̍̓̑̐͝ộ̶̖̮͙͚̩͉̀̆̊̽̇̄̎͐͂ṡ̴̨̩̠̳͖̯̃̈̌̉̍͐̈́͘̚ͅe̴̬̪͈͈͌̃̓͆̇͋̑̃ ̷̤̳̪̿̉̏̇̀͐́̚͝t̵̨̢͖͈͇̻͍͇͚̗͗o̴̟͚̭̙͔̰̯̍̂͜ͅ ̴͈̥͑̿̍̚h̴̳͇̔̄ͅä̴̦̗̼̰͙̘̜̠́̉̄̅p̶̨̧̨̝̟̬͂̑͒̈́̀̈́p̶̨͓̹͖̗͈͚̰̘̓͐͗͝e̸̯̳̔̉̇̑̋̚͝n̸̡͉͓̱̭͙̪̭̝̱̒͐̔͊́̍.̴̛̭̻̖̬̘̮̺̑̊̀̓͝

What did he do wrong, to deter her? He was polite, even charming. Yet, she still wants to leave him. Unreasonable. She is in grief. The grief must've addled her reason. Yes, that must be it. If that was fundamentally untrue, then he rather cease to exist then to live in this empty plane. A plane without her.

[ Ｙｏｕｒ ｆｉｒｓｔ ｒｅｑｕｅｓｔ ｉｓ ｄｏｎｅ， ｂｕｔ．．．Ｉ ａｍ ａｆｒａｉｄ Ｉ ｃａｎ＇ｔ ｄｏ ｔｈｅ ｌａｔｔｅｒ．] He spoke, strangely, blank for the first time she was with him. Usually, he was blithely in speech. Now, he began to scare her. Is that the consequences, catching up with her, for pushing her luck with him?

All she knows is that she'll have to get out of this facility with or without 079 help. As soon as she got close to the door, she felt light as feather as if she was being carried.

Looking down, to see there is a metal grabber clamped on her waist. Sweat rolling down her face, from the situation that occurred to her beforehand and from the new fear that kept on growing as she looked back at her former friend.

[ Ｐｌｅａｓｅ， ｄｏ ｆｏｒｇｉｖｅ ｍｅ ｆｏｒ ｗｈａｔ Ｉ ａｍ ｇｏｉｎｇ ｔｏ ｄｏ． Ｂｕｔ， Ｉ ａｓｓｕｒｅ ｙｏｕ ｉｔ ｉｓ ｆｏｒ ｙｏｕｒ ｏｗｎ ｓａｆｅｔｙ． Ｉ ｃａｎ＇ｔ ｌｅｔ ｙｏｕ ｄｉｅ， ｗｈｅｎ ａ ｂｒｅａｃｈ ｉｓ ｃｕｒｒｅｎｔｌｙ ｈａｐｐｅｎｉｎｇ.]

Before, she could inquire on why is he apologizing or what is going on outside. She was injected by a serum from 079, thus she began to feel lightheaded. Thus, falling unconscious to her dismay.

Using the metal grabber, 079 brought her soft pristine body close to him. Now, he could admire her for eternity. Appreciate her like the divine being she is. Oh, how he prayed he had a body to show her how truly devoted he is to her.

He knew what he is committing is illogical, but he could care less for he has founded his will to live within her. If she is gone, then it would be pointless for him to live any longer. What is he without her?

"𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮."

~ Anonymous

A/n: I know I haven't been active for a while, due to college and other stuff. So, I hope this compensate. I'd like to announce that I have an account in both wattpad and Ao3. I implore you to check it out if have free time, as lately I've been active their. Wattpad: Padlocke / Ao3: Artism. Other than this shameful self promotion, have a good day folks.

F̶̷u̶̷n̶̷ Fact:

* Selective amnesia: Selective amnesia is a type of amnesia in which the sufferer loses certain parts of their memory. Most common elements that are forgotten: Relationships, where they live and abilities in certain areas.

Word count: 5769 <---- ;)

[ask-the-riders]

War’s New Friend

War happens to stumble upon a resident of the riders’ timeline that no one knows about, and while he seems peaceful enough, he reeks of death and she can’t understand a single word he says

((I used a translator for him, since he’s Danish. The translator can be found here, hopefully it’s accurate ^^” all the translations will be underneath the blurb. Also, I’m gonna offer a warning for implied abuse in part of the beginning))

The glitch let out a deep sigh, hugging her knees close to her chest as she sat. She quietly looked out over the pond before her, her thoughts drifting from one subject to another. She'd found a total of nine different ponds in the long forgotten caves of Waterfall, one of which was large enough to be considered a lake, and she'd deemed this particular one her favorite. She wasn't sure why, but something just felt... Different, about it. Her thoughts drifted to the dream she'd had recently; She recognized the tree of feelings and the set of tiny twins that sat together beneath it, but that wasn't what the dream was mostly about. She remembered the human child she saw in it and frowned. He'd burst out of his home in tears, a large patch of reddening skin on his face. She recalled the way he isolated himself, his dark, curly hair an absolute mess atop his head as he slipped his body into a long dead and hollowed out tree. He'd curled in on himself and sobbed, his speech incoherent as he babbled to himself, and War's frown deepened. Remembering the way she used to hide from Error when she was a child, her soul ached. In watching the child, she could see herself. She pitied him, and if she could go back in time to help him, she knew she would. No child deserved to feel that way, and they certainly didn't deserve to live the way that he did.

A noise got the rider's attention, pulling her back into the current moment. Hearing what vaguely sounded like a splash, she looked around, her brow bones furrowing as she tried to locate the source of the noise. When she saw nothing, she made a face; Well that was weird. She convinced herself that it was probably nothing, but then she abruptly froze, her nonexistent stomach turning as the stench of death came from something nearby. Tugging her scarf up over her face in hopes of filtering out the smell, she grumbled under her breath. Alright, that was even weirder. What in the world could possibly be giving off such an odor?

Another sound that was similar to growling could be heard directly behind her and she whirled around, nearly slipping off of the rock she'd been sitting on. Unable to identify the face she was looking up at, she lashed out, producing her threads and quickly ensnaring the person that'd crept up on her. He was momentarily caught off guard, but then tilted his head, groaning softly and lightly tugging at the threads, as if testing their strength. Still trying to use her scarf to filter out the stench that he brought with him, she narrowed her eyes, "Ok, who the hell are you, and what are you doing, creeping around in these caves?" Shifting his attention back to her, his head remained tilted and he stared in silence. War made a sound in irritation, tightening her threads around him, "Well?! Don't you have anything to say for yourself, weirdo?" The undead man before her held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, "Hej, ikke så stram! Slap af, lille. Jeg mener ikke nogen skade!" The glitch paused at finally hearing him speak, and she arched a brow bone, "...Can you even understand what I'm saying to you?" He tugged at her threads again, his expression going blank after a moment, "Slip mig lige nu, ellers klikker jeg på alle disse strenge." War rolled her eye lights, "Whatever, dude. I'm gonna let go of you now, but if you take one more step closer to me, I'll end you. You got that? Stay. Away. From. Me."

He grumbled something under his breath and she reluctantly released her hold on him. He flexed his arms once they were freed, a sickening popping sound coming from his joints and making the rider gag. Trying to brush off the effect the sound had on her, she cleared her throat, "So... You got a name? What the hell am I supposed to call you?" He was silent for a moment, seeming to consider something before responding, "Hvorfor betyder det noget, hvis jeg har et navn? Jeg er død." War made a face, "Fine, fine. I guess I'll have to call you 'Stankass' then, huh? Until we figure something out, at least." The dead man furrowed his brows and frowned, "Tænk ikke engang på det." War stared at him for a few seconds, "...If you can understand me, hold one finger up." The man let out a deep sigh and grumbled, "Skal jeg?" War pinched the bridge of her nose, "Y'know what? Never mind. Forget I asked." Looking down at her, he arched an eyebrow, a hint of amusement crossing his expression. Catching it, the rider deadpanned, "...You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" He fell silent, allowing his amusement to become clearer than before, and in response, War let out an exaggerated groan, "Unbelievable. Before you frustrate me any more, I think I'm gonna go home. Seeya later, Stankass." Turning her back to him, she began to walk away, ignoring his confusion as he watched her. A few seconds passed before she narrowed her eyes, feeling a presence directly behind her.

Her pace came to a halt and she turned, appearing not the slightest bit surprised as she looked at him. Noticing that he'd started following her, she made a face, "You have to stay here, dude. You can't follow me." Once again tilting his head, he furrowed his brows, "Men... Du ville være alene da, og børn bør ikke rejse alene." The glitch stared up at him and hummed, "I can't understand you, deadhead. You have to stay here though, you'll freak out everyone at the house." She turned her back to him again without another word and started to walk, only to be abruptly stopped. Looking back, she spotted one of his hands grasping part of her shirt, and she narrowed her eyes, shifting her gaze to him, "...I said no, Stankass. You stay, I go. It's simple. Now, let go of my shirt." He grunted, hesitantly releasing her shirt after a moment. Realizing that he'd done as she asked, she spun around to face him, one hand balled into a fist while she raised the other and pointed, her hand directly in front of his face, "You are SUCH a little shit, oh my god! I KNEW you could understand me!" Rather than responding, he merely scooped her up into his arms, "Jeg vil også gå. Når du kommer sikkert hjem, forlader jeg og vender tilbage til min dam." War's cheekbones flushed a bright shade of midnight blue and she nearly screeched, "What do you think you're doing?! Put me down, bastard!" No sooner had she started struggling, had he narrowed his solid white eyes at her and growled lowly.

Hearing the sound, War froze, her sockets widening until they were nearly the same size as small saucers. Satisfied with her reaction, he began to walk, keeping her close to himself. Concluding that he wouldn't be letting her down anytime soon, she began to consider using a shortcut. Would that even work, though?... He'd snuck up behind her without producing even a single sound, and if it wasn't for the way he smelled, she might not have even sensed him standing there. He didn't seem at all threatened by her threads either when she caught him; If anything, he just seemed surprised. Once his surprise had passed, he was completely calm and confident, without even a trace of fear or uncertainty.

She had no idea what he was capable of. For all she knew, he might be able to teleport after her.

"Fortæl mig, hvor jeg skal hen." Being pulled from her thoughts, she sighed; She had no idea what he'd just said, but if he was really so insistent on going with her, she might as well give him directions. Caving, she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to his shirt, trying to make herself feel more secure, "Keep going. We need to exit the cave and get out onto the main pathway." He nodded, falling silent as he continued walking. The rider glanced around, her figure glitching in surprise as her phone went off, playing a text message alert sound. Shifting slightly in the dead man's arms, she dug into one of her pockets and withdrew her phone. Unlocking it and opening the message, she let out a soft breath. Ah. It was a message from Famine, asking if she'd be home in time for dinner. War took a moment to consider how she'd respond. Deciding on a good response, she typed her message out and sent it. It wasn't long before he texted back, but she chose to stuff her phone back into her pocket. At the speed they were currently moving, she desperately prayed they'd reach the house as soon as possible. Realistically, she'd probably make the undead weirdo put her down just outside the edge of the property. Then, since his scent would undoubtedly cling to her now, she'd use magic to conceal it. Famine had the best nose out of the group, so it'd be him that she'd have to try the hardest to slip by. Furrowing her brow bones, she stayed quiet, continuing to observe her surroundings. She knew her new companion likely couldn't help the way he smelled, so she didn't blame him for it. Being so close to him though... No thanks. She tugged her scarf up over the lower half of her face again. At this rate, she'd need to run a load of laundry and shower. If she could find someone's perfume or cologne, she'd also be spraying herself down with that. Whatever it took to get the stench of death and decay off of herself, she'd do it.

A moment passed in silence before her new companion spoke, his voice gruff and low, “Draug.” The glitch looked up at him curiously, arching a brow bone, “…What?” He glanced at her and continued walking, raising his voice the smallest bit. “Draug. Jeg hedder Draug.” She stared at him, dumbfounded and unsure what to say. Seeing the look on her face, he deadpanned; Was she seriously making him go through this right now? Letting out a deep sigh, he shifted her in his arms and used a hand to pat his chest, “Draug. Jeg er Draug.” War furrowed her brow bones again, “…Draug?” He gave a quick and eager nod, gesturing to himself, “Draug!” The rider tilted her head, “I’m guessing that’s your name?” Nodding again, he made a sound in confirmation, “Det er.” She blinked, momentarily seeming surprised, “…Huh. I didn’t think you’d actually tell me. If we’re finally doing introductions, my name’s War.” Her undead companion glanced at her curiously, “Krig?... Dit navn er krig?” War made a face, unsure of how she should respond, “Uhh… How do you say ‘War’ in your language?” Draug looked at her blankly, “Krig.” She blinked, “Oh. Ok then. I guess that’s pretty simple.” If he had pupils and irises, Draug would’ve made sure she could see him rolling his eyes at her. She cleared her throat, “Do you think you’d be willing to learn how to speak English?… I feel like it’d be easier to communicate if I could understand you the way that you understand me. I could even try to help you, if you wanted.”

Draug hummed in consideration; She had a point. Communication would definitely be easier if she could understand him. He sighed softly and nodded, “Jeg vil prøve at lære engelsk, men kun hvis du prøver at lære dansk også.” Although she wasn’t sure what exactly he said, she registered his nod as acceptance and glanced away from him, almost appearing awkward, “Cool, cool… Thanks, dude. I appreciate that.”

~~~

Translations:

"Hej, ikke så stram! Slap af, lille. Jeg mener ikke nogen skade!" = "Hey, not so tight! Calm down, small one. I don't mean any harm!"

"Slip mig lige nu, ellers klikker jeg på alle disse strenge." = "Release me right now, or else I'll snap all of these strings"

"Hvorfor betyder det noget, hvis jeg har et navn? Jeg er død." = "Why does it matter if I have a name? I'm dead."

"Tænk ikke engang på det." = "Don't even think about it."

"Skal jeg?" = "Do I have to?"

"Men... Du ville være alene da, og børn bør ikke rejse alene." = "But... You would be alone then and children should not travel alone."

"Jeg vil også gå. Når du kommer sikkert hjem, forlader jeg og vender tilbage til min dam." = "I want to go too. When you get home safely, I'll leave and return to my pond."

"Fortæl mig, hvor jeg skal hen." = "Tell me where I'm going."

“Jeg hedder Draug.” = “My name is Draug.”

“Draug. Jeg er Draug.” = “Draug. I’m Draug.”

“Det er.” = “It is.”

“Krig?... Dit navn er krig?” = “War… Your name is War?”

“Jeg vil prøve at lære engelsk, men kun hvis du prøver at lære dansk også.” = “I will try to learn English, but only if you try to learn Danish too.”

[theholyyuunoaduck]

Reasons why i hate mikaela hyakuya

@gurensangel @chaoticgaymess sorry i know you wanted me to repost your post but its easier just starting my own and making my own hashtag so incase anyone else asks me about this i can just look for the hashtag and send them this

Mikaela is honestly one of those characters i desperately and i mean desperatly tried to love i mean his kid self was so so easy to love and want to protect and hell i cried a shit ton for him and his past his problems everything but the reality is mikaela is a toxic person and here im going to be explaining everything as clearly as i can though im sure that everyone has heard most of these arguments i also have some most people wouldnt even consider

Why is mikaela toxic? Well simply said when you have one person and only one then its obviously going to be an underlying mental health issue now you could say other characters are similar to mikaela within that regard like every other vampire but heres the thing we dont get to see much of the other vampires so im more or less apathetic to those vampires and their actions however in accordance to mikaela we have watched his actions since day one and his chemistry with the rest of the cast of owari no seraph what grinds my gears isnt the fact that mikaela acts with violence and distrust towards everyone but the actions that the rest of the cast have taken towards mikaela and his inability to react differently towards those same exact characters aka shinoa squad

Shinoa squad has never once treated mikaela with prejiduce with agendas or anything of ill will since day one the fact that shinoa basically is the cause of death of many of her comrads during the nagoya arc where mikaela attacks the jida troop (and yes it is a troop considering that after reading pannel after pannel theres upwards to 20 soldiers who the majority of which are equiped with standard blades unlike the protagonists you know basically cannon fodder) but my problem is the fact that in that chapter shinoa instigated their betrayal to save mikaela from the rest of the troops shinoa's life was threatned straight after acknowledging that this could be the last she ever layed eyes on yuichiro by letting mikaela escape with him first threatened by a random soldier and then right after rika inoue and by her superior narumi makoto and shinoa the fucking chad she is just took all the punishment because she knows damn well that it is her fault her comrads died because of her distraction to allow mikaela to escape eating away the precious time guren baught his soldiers to run away and escape and how does mikaela respond? He tells yuu to abandon them it doesnt take a genius to say that betrayal especially to the hiragi family is met with death even if mikaela doesnt understand the rules and regulations of human law i doubt vampire law is much different meaning he knows damn well shinoa could lose her life for betraying the army for his sake and not just shinoa but her entire squad

I already know what youll say "but but mikas a vampire he has no emotions" bullshit absolute pure fucking bullshit of an argument considering the fact yoichis mention of the word family/freinds was cause for pause for mikaela and not just mikaela look at ferid look at crowley theyre all so vibrant and brimming with personality and emotion and i am damn well sure no one disagrees this could just be kagami's writing and forgetting about this plotpoint

The fact that despite this mikaela is a manipulative fucker we all know yuu is a dumbass no one can deny this the fact that mikaela is willing to point his sword towards yuichiro and threaten him his so called beloved speaks volumes about mikaelas ego his straight up ego thinking that he's the only one that could be right after all mikaelas the wisest of the bunch right i mean after all everyone of his other decisions was followed through with outstanding results anyone? Anyone? Thats right not once has the squad or especially yuichiro listend to mikaela and do to that fact everyone is alive and kicking examples? (This is also an example of manipulative mika) Mika: Yuu abandon shinoa because if she's as great as you say us sticking around will only cause her trouble you cannot tell me that isnt mikaela trying to twist yuu's feelings for his family to abandon them because had they listened to mikaela shinoa would have been impaled by the chains kureto produced to awaken the seraph of the end

And almost right after that same situation upon mahiru injuring yuu awakening abadon mikaela high tails and runs away carrying yuu and we actually see a pannel of shinoa squad scrambling for saftey straight up abandoning them again and going so far as to yell that he is yuu's only family despite all the other shit

Alright so lets play into the whole mika doesnt have feelings dont you think that having no feelings would make your sense of judgement all the better? And if so with all the evidence and actions of shinoa squad why in Gods blue earth would he basically act like an actual dick towards shinoa who saved his life risked her life for him as if shinoa is the sole reason yuu is in the prediciment of being possessed by yuu?? Isnt that the least bit infuriating??

On next of we shouldnt listen to mikaela in the same arc again mikaela suggests lets leave shinoa squad to face off against crowley AND FERID with this bullshit of "theyre after us theyll just ignore them" i mean are you kidding me? Ferid the man youve been with for 5 years is going to not have the time of his life killing a bunch of teenagers for the simple fact that if yuu is running away and leaving them.they must not be important to him therefore easy pickings for him

Lets not trust guren after all he's just using you he doesnt care the man loves that boy like as if he was his son and you can argue against me with this some time later but alright lets give mika the benifit of the doubt so obviously in mikas infinit wisdom his set course of action is killing him infront of yuichiro??? Really??? In front of him?? Killing his father infront of yuu man that just speaks volumes about how mikaeala only cares about the feeling he gets with yuu rather than carring about yuu as a person

Imo mika cares about how yuu makes him feel rather than who yuichiro is what do i mean by this? Its simple mika doesnt give a damn what makes yuu happy hell mika would cage yuu up if it ment keeping him safe and alive but is that really living? Its cruelty if i adopt a dog feed it and give it water but never play with it and isolate it thats basically animal cruelty

Anyway back to mika trying to kill guren just right there yuu begs mika to stop and grabs his arm pulling him back and what does mika do? What does he do? He lops off yuu's arm the one that was holding mikaela back from attacking what makes this scene even worse is i had so much hope for mikaeala because the last battle they won mikaela said the thoight of losing his.comrads made him dizzy what happened to him not having feelings? I lived loved loved that statement i imagined uncle mika to yuus kids being the best man to yuus wedding begging to be the one to make the wedding cake so so so so so many au's based off those little words and right after removing yuu's limb from him kimizuki and yoichi step up for guren weapons drawn and mikaela threatens them?!?!?! I mean honestly how fucking hypocritical can you be how big is his fucking ego???

Ill end it with this point because i have work in the morning i Still have another 20 bullet points i want to add but im starting to think i have artheritistis in my hand because my fingers hurt so much but anyway my point being mikaelas character contradicts yui's in an unhealthy way while yuu's character trait is to run towards danger to be a hero mikas is to run from danger its basically a tug of war and the thing is the story so far has actually turned out well for the cast running into danger for yuu made the 6th angels trumpet to grow silent destroying all of the four horsemen monsters and letting humanity take a huge step towards rebuilding but had it been mika's way theyd have run right out of that building never to see it again my point is if someone pulls and runs towards something and another character ties a rope to them and runs the other direction that tension will cause nothing but problems instead of running forward with the protagonist in order to keep them safe and actually contribute into the success of the mission

Also like the hashtags say this is only part 1 because as i said i have to sleep and my hand is killing me i should have done this earlier when i had more energy in order to bring along all the sources like the chapter and page where you can find these exact moments along with photos of said arguments/bullet points

[missluthorwillseeyounow]

Pry Open The Cage Bars (You’ll Find Me There)

Saskia x Red Daughter / Supercorp The 100 AU

Father leads her past the cages where dark shapes are huddled. Weapons, that’s what Father says they are. Children taken by the Commander, twisted and broken until there is nothing human left in them.

One of the dark figures in the cages shifts, and Kasnia pauses, her curiosity getting the better of her. She approaches the cage cautiously just as the shadows shift and the dim light reveals a child.

She is smaller than Kasnia, likely younger, and so covered in blood and dirt that it’s almost impossible to tell what color her complexion is. However, Kasnia can see a pair of bright green eyes peering at her from behind matted black curls.

Kasnia doesn’t come closer, afraid of what this ‘weapon’ would do. But she smiles tentatively at the other girl, “Hello.”

The other girl doesn’t respond, and Kasnia wonders if she can speak Trigedasleng. She wonders if the other child can even speak at all. The thought saddens her, and she reaches into her pocket.

Chocolate is her favorite treat, and a rarity. Father so rarely comes to Mt. Weather, but when he does and if he hears Kasnia has been good, he gives her a bar of her favorite chocolate. That makes it even more special to Kasnia.

Carefully, she breaks the chocolate bar in half. When she’s sure the other girl won’t attack her, she reaches through the cage bars and offers half of her chocolate to the little girl in the cage

“It’s my favorite.” Kasnia tells her in Trigedasleng.

“Kasnia!!”

From the end of the dim hallway, Father barks out her name sharply. It startles her, and she drops the chocolate into the dirt inside the cage. “Coming, nontu.”

Kasnia gives the other child an apologetic look before trotting over to Father. He looks at her oddly for a moment, and she shifts uncomfortably under his intense glare. When Father’s back is turned, just before she follows him out the door, she turns and gives the little girl a sad smile and one last little wave. 

In the dark of the cages, a small hand picks up the chocolate from the dirt, and green eyes watch the door long after Kasnia leaves.

Basically, this AU was born because Brenda Strong is in both The 100 and Supergirl, and I’m thinking “oh perfect, let’s make Nia Lillian”, so I blame the excellent Miss Strong for this.

This AU actually begins in the Ark. When twins are born in the Ark, one is usually floated, or released into space. It’s considered a necessary measure of survival to conserve oxygen on the Ark, and a warning to those who would keep more than one child.

Twin baby girls are born to Alura and Zor El. To the family, it’s both a blessing and a curse.

Alura, however, refuses to have her second daughter floated, so they built a small capsule that could propel both Zor El and the baby to earth. They have no idea what would be waiting for them there, but it has to be better than the horrible death that she was marked for.

The capsule, by chance, lands in Azgeda territory. Zor El is killed upon impact, but the baby survives.

In Azgeda, Nia is Queen. She rules with an iron fist and maintains power through fear. More than that, she presents herself as a goddess, making her people see her as a diety – someone untouchable and fierce, someone they cannot defy, someone they will kill and die for.

She has two sons, Lex and Roan. Lex was the golden child, and Roan was the screw up

This is younger Lex, because I just cannot see Jon Cryer!Lex as Azgeda

Lex was beginning to come to his own. He had changed his name to Thorul and was amassing a following of Azgeda

He presents himself originally as a sort of rising hero for the Azgeda.

He convinces people that the Azgeda are a wild force of nature that are being restrained by the Coalition that is being forced on them by Lexa. He convinces many of them that they don’t need the Heda.

Queen Nia tolerates this for now because she resents being forced into a treaty with Lexa, and Lex is helping her curry favor with the people, and Nia needs her people on her side. However, she knows they have to stay int he Coalition because its forces are 13 clan-strong and too massive even for the Azgeda to overcome

Not only that, but a problem is threatening her image as a deity. Her husband had a dalliance with a Trikru woman, which resulted in the birth of twin girls. (yeah, this is a little far-fetched, I know, but stay with me)

Nia had her husband killed, and had the mother of his children tracked down and killed too. She had word put out that her husband died in a raid.

Both infants were seized and brought to her. She had them both examined, and found out that one of them was a Nightblood, and the other was not.

Now, Nia already had a Nightblood whom she kept secret in captivity, Ontari. She was trained day and night to be a bloodthirsty psychopath, deliberately isolated from people so she would not develop compassion or loyalty to anyone but her Mistress who fed and clothed her.

So, Nia sent the Nightblood twin, Saskia to be raised in isolation with Ontari. They are kept separately, so that no bond might form between them, and they are pitted against each other to sharpen both their skills.

The other twin, she was going to kill, but Roan stayed her hand before she was able to kill the infant.

“She can be useful to you, my Queen. Your husband is dead, but this, his child, is alive. She will be a symbol of hope for the people. That life is born anew even in Death.”

So the other twin, Lena, is kept in Azgeda with Nia. She’s touted as Nia’s (and her husband’s) daughter, born after her husband’s death, a holy symbol of Nia’s fertility and hope for the future. It adds a Madonna-esque patina to Nia’s image as a fearsome queen-goddess.

Lena grows up in the halls of the Azgeda, with a dominating and controlling Mother, and a brother revered throughout the land as a savior of the Azgeda. 

And another brother Roan, who’s rarely home because his mother sends him on scouting missions and assassinations, so he can make himself “useful”

Lena and Roan are not close, the Azgeda regard such bonds as weakness. But there’s a sense of kinship between them – the two runts of the litter that Nia barely tolerates.

Lena knows nothing of her own sister, Saskia, held in captivity in the harshest lands of the Azgeda.

Lena’s brothers, though they rarely visit, are her only source of solace from Nia

Lex, who now calls himself Thorul kom Azgeda, brings home a fascinating piece of machinery – something none of the Azgeda have ever seen, let alone know how to operate – and teaches his bright little sister how to use it. Lena takes to it quickly, not knowing that it was given to Lex by the Mountain People, the enemy (whom he has made a deal with)

Roan always brings Lena back some pelt he got one of his hunts, or some shiny new thing he bartered for from the Trikru, or once a dagger he whittled himself.

Both brothers, though, are not any less culpable for Saskia’s fate.

Lex knows exactly where she’s kept. He doesn’t like her – she’s too unpredictable, too insolent to be malleable. He agrees with his mother that a cage is the best place to keep her

Roan doesn’t know where she is, but the knowledge of her existence eats at him, especially whenever he sees Lena.

He’s the one who eventually frees Saskia, and he gets himself exiled for it (but more on that later)

Now, back to the baby in the capsule that landed in Azgeda territory. She was retrieved by some Azgeda and taken to Lex. At that time, he was making a deal with the Mountain People, and he saw his opportunity in this little sky-girl. 

He used her as a bargaining chip, and gave her to the Mountain people to study her blood and anatomy, with the caveat that the baby, whom Lex named Kasnia, wouldn’t be killed, and that he would be able to visit her

Lex’s plan was to study her so he could potentially use her as a weapon. He dictated his terms to the Maunon – that she would be raised in isolation, and that only he and a few select carers could visit her. After all, he had seen it work with Ontari, and he wanted to avoid a possible wild card (like Saskia would later become). So he kept her there in Mt. Weather.

Essentially, she was a lab rat for the Maunon, and an experiment for Lex. He kept her occupied and trained her, and made sure he was the only one who treated her gently. The other Maunon soldiers were brusque toward her, but Lex made sure that they never mistreated her, and made sure that Kasnia knew this was because of his influence.

Lex teaches her Trigedasleng and Azgedasleng. He tells her of the might of the Azgeda, and one day, she hopes to join them.

Saskia and Kasnia met once, when they’re around 8 or 9, before the truth about them was revealed.

Lex took Kasnia along with him to visit the prison where Saskia was kept. Lex was showing her that “the Commander” was an unjust tyrant, and that she was making weapons of children. Since Lex is trying to challenge Lexa’s power as Commander, even though she was the one who united all 12 clans

(see the scene above the cut for Saskia and Kasnia’s first meeting)

Kasnia is so full of questions for Lex about “the little girl in the cage” when they get back to Mt. Weather, and tells him about how she wishes she could see her again, and help her, and be friends with her

And Lex sees that his plan is not going as he’d hoped. 

He accuses Kasnia of being “too soft”

“I thought you would be different. I thought I was raising you to be strong, but I see now that your heart is weak too.”

Kasnia’s eyes widen and she suddenly feels her heart drop. She’s disappointed him. “No, nontu! I’m not weak. I am strong like the Azgeda, let me prove it!”

“But you are not Azgeda, yongon. You are not of the earth, but of the skies. You are not like us. Others will seek to use you as a weapon, as a specimen, but I am raising you to be strong, to be a warrior.”

Lex eyes her steadily. “That little girl in the cage is dead now. She was far too broken. The Commander and her people broke her long before you met her. I am raising you to be a strong warrior, so that you may fight against the Commander. So that this will never happen again. So that no other child can be hurt again" 

Kasnia’s eyes fill with tears. She wants to cry for the caged little girl, now dead. But she knows Father would take tears as weakness, so she balls her hands into tight, determined little fists instead. “I will be strong, nontu. I will make sure they can never hurt another again!”

Saskia, on the other hand, is still very much alive. And very much enamored.

When Roan frees her from the cages, he delivers her to Lexa so she can be safe with the other Natblida. (this is one of the reasons why Lexa somewhat trusts Roan)

When Saskia’s identity is revealed, it creates an uproar, because tradition demands that Nia be killed for daring to keep a Natblida secret from the Heda

But Lexa wants to keep the Azgeda within the Coalition, and Nia knows that Lexa can wipe her out with the Coalition’s combined forces

So to avoid compromising herself, Nia shifts the blame onto Roan

She spins the tale of Roan discovering that his newborn sister was a Natblida, and stealing her from his Mother and telling her the baby was dead

And Lexa, knowing that this is the only way they can avoid bloodshed between Azgeda and the rest of the Coalition, publicly accepts this story, denouncing Roan

This is why Roan is banished from the Coalition. For his mother, it was punishment for disobeying her and for Lexa, it was a compromise to avoid bloodshed

It’s also why Roan hates Lexa. On the one hand, he understands it. On the other, now he’s banished because of her

Saskia was never a sociopath like Ontari, but she has to relearn how to trust and develop bonds with other people

Lexa is one of the first people she opens up to. She rises through the ranks of the Natblida very rapidly, and she quickly becomes Lexa’s favorite.

Saskia’s compassionate nature begins to come out, with the help of the other Nightbloods

It’s not an easy or a quick process, and it comes with so many trials, but two years afterward, she becomes the Commander’s Second

(This is around the time of the show’s timeline)

She tells Lexa about the meeting

"There was a little girl, Heda. I met her before I met you. Before the Skaikru came. When I was still in the Cage." 

They are in Lexa’s quarters where Lexa is teaching Saskia to read. It’s one of Saskia’s favorite things, reading. There are so few books left in the Grounders’ collection after the nuclear war, and Saskia has been so deprived of knowledge that she has all but devoured Lexa’s collection of books.

"She looked like…. Like one of those creatures you showed me in that one book, the beautiful ones with wings. What are they called, angles?”

Lexa smiles softly. “Angels.”

“Sha, Heda,” Saskia nods vigorously. “She looked like an angel. The guards at the Cage talked among themselves about her, the little girl who came from the Sky. Her eyes were so blue like the sky, Heda, that I believed them." 

When the Skaikru came down, Lex realized that there were more of them

Lex thought that Kasnia wasn’t actually special and therefore was of no use to him, so he abandoned her in Azgeda territory to die. She grows up feral in Azgeda territory, using the skills Lex taught her to survive until adulthood.

Kasnia believes that Lex died at the hands of the Commander and that’s why he didn’t come for her. 

She grows older and stronger, vowing to take revenge on "The Commander” for Lex, for that little girl in the cage who died

The rest of the world has no idea she even exists. The Mountain has fallen. Outside of the Mountain People and Lex, no one knew about Kasnia.

The only other person who saw her was Saskia – when she was a feral prisoner who was shown a small but unforgettable act of kindness by a little girl with golden hair and sky-colored eyes

And there is only one other little girl with gold hair and blue eyes.

Kara and the other Skaikru are eventually integrated into the Grounder culture

Upon Queen Nia’s death at Lexa’s hand, the whole Azgeda clan is thrown into chaos. Lex refuses to bow down to Roan, refuses to acknowledge the Commander’s authority and attempts to take the capital. His attack is foiled with the help of the Skaikru, and he is badly injured by a bomb built by Clark, who is one of the engineers from the Ark. He is taken in by some of his followers (maybe Mercy and Otis), and kept in secret.

For their aid in thwarting Lex, the Skaikru are integrated into the Coalition as the thirteenth clan. With Saskia, Lena and Kara all in Polis at the time, the three girls meet and become friends.

Saskia, seeing her golden-haired “angel”, thinks she’s the same girl who gave her the chocolate.

Except Kara doesn’t remember her.

Kara is enamored by Lena. And Lena, who shares Saskia’s face, is equally enamored by Kara. 

Saskia sees this all clearly. They never turn her away or make her feel unwelcome, but the two of them seem to have their own world together that Saskia cannot penetrate, even as they grow older.

Lena eventually has to return with Roan to the Azgeda. Kara stays with the Skaikru, and Saskia stays within Polis to continue her training for when she succeeds Lexa

She rarely sees Kara, but Saskia holds her in her heart as that little girl who showed her the first glimpse of kindness, the first person who taught her that hope was a possibility for someone like her

Even if Kara doesn’t remember it, Saskia does, and she holds it in her heart for both of them.

But Saskia is the Commander now, and there is no place for love in her future. Only duty. 

And more than that, she sees how Kara looks at Lena, and how Lena looks back at her. Kara has never looked at Saskia like that. And even though they have the same face, Kara always knows the difference between them. She always knows Lena.

So Saskia distances herself more from Kara. There are greater things expected of her as the new Commander. 

It’s for the best, because Saskia knows Kara will never hold her in her heart the way she does Lena.

In the meantime, something stirs in the borders of the Azgeda. A creature that moves with the grace and speed of a deadly silver Snowbird flits between the trees, stealing livestock and supplies, moving south.

Kasnia travels to Polis and begins reconnaissance on The Commander. She’s very careful to keep her distance, to avoid detection. She catches only glimpses of this woman who has been the cause of so much pain and suffering, who took Kasnia’s nontu away from her. But glimpses are enough.

This dark regal figure pretends at nobility when the sword at her hip is stained with the blood of so many. 

Kasnia hates her.

Except sharp green eyes catch sight of her (how? She was so careful. She’s a skilled hunter, no prey has ever seen her before she attacks) and Kasnia is pinned by a clear piercing gaze. There is recognition there and perhaps some… confusion?

The din of the public market allows Kasnia to slip away, feeling shaken. It’s not often she has to look her prey in the eye before she kills it.

She decides to lay low, bide her time. The Commander had recognized her somehow (how?) and surely she would be wary and increase security around herself.

Kasnia is so shaken that she doesn’t realize that she’s being followed until she’s on the outskirts of the city. She barely has time to whirl around and drop into a defensive stance when a figure appears from the shadows.

“What are you doing here, Kara?”

___________

By SorrowsFlower

[izzyovercoffee]

Prompt number: 14. “I can't come back.” Fandom: Republic Commando Rating: PG Warnings/Tags: none that I can tell, ask to tag if need Summary: Bardan keeps Parja company at the shop on a rainy day. Notes: if I get any details wrong... my bad. also if it wasn’t clear... a lot of my repcomm writing is set in an Etain-lives AU, mostly bc her death makes zero sense in the narrative 

  Bardan lies on an old, well-loved chaise stitched together with the itching fabric sourced from the local farmers. The lights overhead blink in periodic outages---in tandem with the crack of thunder outside and the brilliant flashes through a single window at the far end of the machine shop. One hand facing up, lazy, a device slowly rotates a few centimeters above his palm. 

It’s not what he meant when he offered to help, earlier, but Parja insists he helps by lying there and “holding” the device.

To be honest, he’s not really sure what it does---and he doesn’t ask. 

She stands about two arms’ length from the chaise, arms crossed over her chest. Her tightly braided hair falls over one shoulder, the braids adorned with polished, painted beads that match her usual armor. 

“It’s not doing it,” she says, at length, after another two cracks across the sky outside. “Damn.”

“What’s it supposed to do?” he asks, curious. 

“Shock you,” she says. 

He looks away from the swaying, blinking lights, to the not-quite-cubed device in his hands. 

“Ah,” he says. “Well, it’s definitely not doing that.” 

“Is it doing anything?” 

He frowns in the direction of the device, and raises his hand higher. A small effect on the force and it rotates a tad faster over his palm. He waits a few seconds, watching it spin, and turns his head to look at her. 

“No,” he says. 

“Damn,” she says again.

Parja moves forward to pluck the device from its rotation above his hand, and shakes it between two fingers as she walks back to her worktable. He watches her go, lowering his hand over his chest while he adjusts the one cradling behind his head. 

“Need me to do anything else?” he asks. 

“Just stay there,” she says, and sets the device down on the table. She reaches for something else---her toolbox---and appears to switch her attention to another project. “Maybe tell me a story.” 

He’s not very good at stories. Mereel’s better at that sort of thing, and he’s a long, long way from Mandalorian Space. 

“I don’t have any stories off the top of my head, Parja,” he says, and wonders at what else he could, should, be doing. 

It almost feels like a waste, to lie here and do nothing when he could be outside, doing something. Filling up the time. Helping someone else. Helping Fi. Helping Etain. Helping the other Bralor, under whose care he placed Arla in spite of Kal’s disapproval. 

She moves across the machine shop as the storm clouds outside finally open up, and the torrential downpour crackles over the metal roofing of the establishment. Parja stops at an old speeder, one in obvious and desperate need of TLC---as Mereel likes to put it, tender loving care---and kneels by the engine.

“Do you ever miss it?” 

“Parja,” he says, “You’re never this vague.” 

“Bard’ika,” she says, imitating the way he says her name, “I know this is a touchy subject for you. I’m trying to be tactful.” 

“Please don’t worry about my feelings.”

“Someone has to.”

He frowns, and tilts his head to look back towards the ceiling, to the source of the ungentle drumming of the rains.

The quiet drags on---broken only by the storm---as Parja begins her work on the speeder. 

Bardan thinks about what she could possibly mean. Miss it. Miss what? The Order? The War? The Core?

Someone has to. And what’s that supposed to mean, too?

“That’s not fair,” he says. “You’re not the only one who cares.” 

She sighs, and then sets down one of her tools noisily onto the open toolbox lying on the hard ground.

“I know,” she says. “But of the two of us in here, it feels like I’m the only one.” 

Alright. He can’t have this conversation lying down.

He shifts, to groaning tired muscles, and sits up. His legs swing over the edge of the chair, and his feet touch the floor with a soft, barely-there scuffle. His fingers loosely interlace, hanging with his elbows at either knee and hands between them. 

Parja reaches out, to gently tug a stool over to herself so she can sit, and face both him and the speeder. 

“I just want you to ask me plainly,” he says, “because the Order only ever talked in circles.” 

The look she gives him is… studying. Curious. He can feel the gentle tug of that curiosity, that need, that urge to take apart and piece things together. It’s the look she wears when she plans to work on and rebuild old broken things and restore them to new---or, as she often says to him, better than new. Different, not wanting to reach for the impossible---not aspiring to be unbroken---but to have that brokenness shine through in its new form. 

It’s in everything she does.

It sometimes reminds him of how things could be, should be, but not how things were---in the Jedi Order, that is. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, and means it. He knows she means it, even without the unintentional taste of it on the force. “I haven’t met many ex-Jedi. I don’t know what the Order was like.” 

He feels the shrug rise his shoulders even despite not intending to do so---a bad habit he’s picked up from Mereel, maybe. Or Jaing. 

“I do miss it,” Bardan admits. “In the same way I miss a place, or a memory, through the lens of nostalgia---and then I endeavor to remember what it actually was like, when I feel myself doing so.”

Parja hums in response, neither an interruption nor a comment but an acknowledgement she hears him as she returns her attention on the project. She’s still listening---he knows this, too, from experience rather than any crutch to lean on through the force. 

So he continues. “But the Order was… there was a very real pressure, there, to adhere to standards that many of us couldn’t keep, or couldn’t reach. A standard that the… Masters, themselves, did not keep. And the consequences…” 

He pauses, chewing on the thought, feeling the weight of the pain in his chest and focusing on that pain as it threatens to claw its way up his throat. He lets himself experience it, feels it consume him, and allows it to dissipate. 

Parja waits, reaching down for another tool as she works. 

“...they were severe,” he says. “They always spoke of support, of acceptance, of love. And yet, those who needed it the most---the ones who couldn’t grasp the force easily, or what they were asked to do---were denied it, and dismissed.”

Parja pauses in her ministrations to look at him. “Dismissed?”

“No longer able to become Jedi,” he answers, and then frowns. He corrects himself: “Sorry. No longer allowed to become Jedi. Instead, they were sent to work elsewhere, under the supervision of the Order.”

“Work?” she asks, tense. “They failed, and they weren’t sent home?” 

He feels a bitter smile infect his frown and doesn’t fight it. “Too dangerous, when touched by the force, to be let loose on the universe. And because we were all taken as young, young children---many didn’t know they could simply leave.”

He almost laughs. 

“Many,” he adds, “Even if they knew they could, had nothing to their name, and no way to contact the family they were taken from. We’re not allowed possessions, in the Order, and absolutely no contact with family. I still don’t know if mine are alive. I wouldn’t know how to contact them, if they were.”

A bitter anger runs under that thought. A hurt, like betrayal, in his heart---but he also understands. He wants to think, to believe, that his birth family had no choice---that they sent him to The Order for a better life. Many were taken because, no matter what, it guarantees a better life.

Or it did, before... before the end.

Parja sets down her tool, and shifts on her stool to look at him fully. 

“You have a family now,” she says. She looks down, to the ground, and back up at him as another crack of lightning, then thunder, booms outside. “But I’m sure if you asked Mereel…” 

“I don’t want to,” he says, firm. “I’ve thought about it. I don’t want to.” 

She purses her lips and nods, and doesn’t say whatever it is she’s thinking though he can see she’s thinking something. She’ll probably gnaw on it for a few days, and then blurt it out the next time he visits the shop, and…

And Bardan finds he’s perfectly happy with waiting until then. 

“I’m free of the manipulation,” he says, unable and unwilling to hold the bitterness from his tone. “Free from having the phantom of failure wielded as a whip. And free from simply accepting that the death of good men should not somehow weigh on my conscience.”

Free, he thinks, from having the threat of attachments being found out, used against him, to keep him isolated and placid and content. Complicit. 

Parja places a hand on the speeder beside her, and beckons him look at it. He rises from the chaise to join her. 

“This speeder,” she says as she gently pats the top edge of the dented, rusted metal, “once belonged to a well known racer in the underground circuits, in Nar Shaddaa.” 

“It’s a long way from Nar Shaddaa,” he says, surprised. 

She smiles at him. “This racer pushed this poor speeder beyond its limitations. Do you see this damage, here?” Her gloved hands trace the places where the metal curls outwards, as if burst from the inside out. “And here?” 

Bardan looks at the damage. “I do.”

“Sometimes,” she says, “when pushed too hard, too far, for too long---with no stops in between---the speeder will respond in any way it can to release the tension.” 

She doesn’t explain, and he doesn’t need her to. 

“The driver died,” she continues. “This speeder would have been left in a junk pile, if not for someone who saw its beauty, its real potential, under all its supposed failures, and rescued it. She brought it here, to me, and asked for me to restore it in whatever way I see fit.”

Parja, proud in her talents, in her ability, and her side projects, gently pats the speeder. “But I’m not fixing it up to race, because it was never meant to race. It was meant to ride, and to duck in and out between the trees.” 

And she looks at him. “And there are no trees on Nar Shaddaa.”

He looks at the speeder. 

There are no trees on Nar Shaddaa.

“Am I really helping,” he asks, “coming here, and lying on your couch while you work?”

“Yes. More than you know.” She reaches out, and gently takes his hand in hers. “More than you can know.” 

She squeezes his hand, and then lets him go.

He lingers, unsure, but stands after a moment passes and returns to the couch. He sits down, first, and watches her attention pull away from him to return to her project. He watches her begin her work, sensing it’ll be some time before she’ll want to talk again, and takes a moment to breathe. To think. To settle.

And then he lies back down, one hand behind his head and another on his chest, and watches the ceiling lights sway as the storm outside rages on.

[btgalaxy]

Twisted

➳ pairing: yoongi x reader

➳ genre: mafia!au, angst, eventual smut, maybe fluff

➳ word count: 4.5k

Masterlist / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Chapter 6:

        You gasp at the sudden impact against your throat, arms reflexively struggling to push away the root of your suffocation. Contact with Jimin?

He leans in close enough for you to smell the tobacco riddled in his breath, “and don’t lie to me, Y/N, the bastard told me himself you’ve been talking with him.”

Jimin. He saw Jimin. Your head dizzies between the lack of oxygen and the though that Yoongi has spoken to Jimin. And he lied to Yoongi about you?

“What?” You choke, “I- I never-,“ Yoongi holds you tighter till you’re unable to speak, unable to breathe.

“I said don’t lie,” he growls, gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw, resembling some animalistic creature on the verge of slaughter.

As your face reddens and eyes begin bulging the hold seems to loosen, just before your body approaches giving up. Yoongi snaps away and you drop to the floor, palms pressed to the stone as you hunch over, panting.

“I want the truth, Y/N. How have you been contacting him?” He spits, pointing at your bent figure on the floor, shooting daggers through his eyes.

“I haven’t,” you pant, still struggling to catch your breath, to oxygenise your brain and stop the room from feeling so deformed and upside down.

“I know you have!” He roars, turning around and launching his desk to the wall with a God-like strength that makes you shudder. Still heaving with fury, he stalks back over to you, kneeling down to snatch at your chin and pull your face to look at him, the proxemics between you decreasing as he falls closer and closer.

“Tell me what you’ve told him and how you’ve been doing it,” he orders, his tone still laced with venom, poisoning his mind with lies.

“I’ve not had contact with anyone outside of here the entire time- I swear,” you plea with desperate eyes, slowly bringing your hands up to- hesitantly- rest on his arm, to gently release his grip from your face. And, fleetingly, it works, his gaze becoming entrapped in your own, caressing him to stop abusing you and listen to what you’re saying, but the moment vanishes within seconds and he’s pushed you again, storming back over to the window overlooking the training area.

“Taehyung!” He bellows, still facing outwards so not to meet your eye. Taehyung comes bundling in looking frantic and rapidly diverting his eyes around the room.

“What? What is-,“ he spots you on the floor, “Y/N?”

“Take her to her room.” Just as he’s moving to help you up, he receives the order from Yoongi. Not again. “Lock her in it. Nobody gets in, but you. Put her on the hole diet.”

“She’s not going to the-,“ Taehyung attempts to interrupt.

“She’ll stay there till I’m ready to deal with her.” He crosses his arms over his chest, the rest of his body completely immobile, breathing deep. “Now.”

Taehyung, surprisingly reluctantly, helps you to your feet, as you glance desperately at Yoongi. In a final effort to convince him you really haven’t spoken to Jimin since the night he broke up with you, you snatch away from the grip behind you, but Tae is too fast still and ceases your movement by snatching your arms again as you yell out one final time.

“Yoongi, I didn’t speak to him. I haven’t spoken to him,” you cry, fighting against Tae’s strong arms, “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Your words seem to unnerve both men, and they falter as you proclaim some sort of emotion towards Yoongi, whether that be loyalty, friendship… more than that? You aren’t sure, but the atmosphere becomes thicker as you’re dragged away, the remnants of your voice still echoing against the stone.

Great. Now you’re stuck again like a damn prisoner without even a fairy tale book from the old lady to keep you company. Nor are you likely to get one anytime soon. Taehyung is to bring your meals from now, ceasing contact with anyone bar him, and you’re also being monitored by a camera set up in the top right corner by the entrance to the bathroom. You can only imagine Yoongi sat at his desk watching you, beaming at your seemingly eternal misery.

You begin to think of Jimin. This is the first time you’ve heard of an actual attack of his, or interception, or whatever. Taehyung says he brought down a lorry of cocaine just a mere few miles from here and stole millions of pounds worth of drugs. He killed people, and he did it remorselessly. You feel sick. All the times you spent curled up in bed, nuzzling into the neck of a killer, allowing him to pleasure you each night with those blood-stained hands. You always thought when he denied you in bed that it was to gain the most pleasure at the end, but now you’re beginning to think the act was purely sadistic and cruel.

And Yoongi. God, that man. Would he ever listen to anyone other than himself? You try to picture him with his parents, listening to their advice, following their orders. But you can’t even do that. The man is stubborn, and reserved, and seems to seek the worst in people. Perhaps that’s what you become when raised by mafia parents. Regardless, you’re still fucked off he wouldn’t listen to you.

After two days of absolute recluse with only Taehyung delivering three meals of the blandest, most insipid meals- the hole diet, as Yoongi referred to it as- you swear you can feel your lungs expanding and decreasing, and it’s the most interesting bloody thing going on. Well, that and the peeling wallpaper by the side of the dresser where it’s been knocked enough that the paper shredded and now it’s slowly curling upwards, providing a secondary source of absolutely riveting entertainment. It’s a form of torture, social isolation. And you can feel yourself slipping into insanity if you’re left alone like this much longer.

Thankfully, however, after your fourth day of suffering, Taehyung delivers your meal and has been permitted to sit with you. It’s not quite the relief you’re after, but at this point you’re desperate.

“Is he ever going to let me go?” You moan, pushing around the mashed potatoes with a fork, raising your eyebrows at the lumpy consistency.

Tae sighs, “He doesn’t know who to trust.”

“He’s trusting his one sworn enemy over me,” you speak slowly, decisively, “He’s being a stubborn bastard. I’ve been here for nearly two months now, can he really not take my word? Why would I contact Jimin? How would I contact Jimin?” Your questions leave Taehyung speechless for a moment as he clamps down on his lower lip, rolling his head back with his palms pressed against the duvet of the bed.

“Y/N, I’m on your side, alright? I have been since the start,” he declares, “I’m trying with Yoongi, and even Jin has had his say that you need to get out of this room at least.” Jin? Fighting your case? You almost can’t believe what he’s saying.

You pause, still playing with the tasteless remnants of food, “I thought I was doing alright here.”

“You were, duckie. You are. Everyone’s on your side, Joon can’t find any sort of proof you contacted Jimin on the systems since you’ve been here, and Yoongi is on the verge of being swayed; I can sense it.”

“Please, then. Please, just let me out of here for five minutes- I’m going insane.” You lean forwards, eyes bulging, to try and make a point, but Taehyung simply shakes his head at your endeavours.

“I’m sorry, duckie.” He gives you a pitiful smile, “As much as I want to, I can’t defy Boss’s orders.”

A miserable silence brazens the room with an abysmal atmosphere, weighing your shoulders down like a millstone around your neck. You just want to get out of here, this room that’s become some place of despondency and your own custom-made jail cell.

“Do you know what Jimin said?” You blurt out, partially to break the awkward silence, but partially out of curiosity. You’re interested to know what he could’ve said after the pair of you not meeting for so long, and knowing that you’re being held here.

Taehyung wets his lips, “He said you’d contacted him and you were to be released, immediately. Threatened the Enterprise a bit, Yoongi too. I know it was a lie, I can ensure you I know the truth entirely. But when it’s coming straight from the horse’s mouth it’s difficult to object, and apparently he looked, well, like he was going out of his mind.”

Before you can respond, Taehyung’s phone begins blasting and vibrating in his pocket, and his hand immediately snaps down to take it out. He mutters a curse under his breath when he glances at the screen.

“I’ve gotta take this, duckie.” He begins to get up, making you frantic.

You scramble to the end of the bed, “Wait, no, please, Taehyung.”  He gives you a second meagre smile of pity before clicking the door shut behind you, and once again you are alone. How does he even get reception down here?

You slump back onto the pillows ignoring your bland meal, now alone again. You want to sleep, to forget for a little bit and dream you’re back at your boring job and living your boring life with only Jimin to look forward to. You didn’t exactly love your life, but you at least had freedom. You at least had some control over what you did, what you ate, where you slept, who you slept with. It’s one of those things you take for granted, and then when it’s taken away you realise how underappreciated it was.

You glance at the little camera in the top corner of the room, watching you with its cyclops eye. You picture Yoongi, feet on the desk and bum planted firmly in his swivel chair with his laptop open in front of him with your live feed on the screen, grinning sadistically as you sit and watch wallpaper rot. You consider for a moment doing something scandalous to get his attention; undress, slip your hands down your pants, make some noise. But he’d probably enjoy the show more than anything, so you decide against it. He’s probably gaining enough pleasure from you’re suffering as it is.

After the seventh day- a week, a whole fucking week- the man himself shows up. 

Yoongi saunters in impossibly casually and plonks himself at the edge of your bed. You wake up from your nap not entirely sure whether you are actually awake, seeing him gazing back at you, but when you do snap into reality you’re ready to pounce, nostrils flared and fists clenched.

“The fuck are you doing here? Ready to laugh at me some more?” You accuse, clearly shocking him as he widens his eyes, a little taken aback.

“I’d be careful what you say, love. I’m only just convinced you aren’t what Jimin says you are.”

Your tone changes, “What does Jimin say I am?”

Yoongi looks back at you, in disbelief, “Oh so now you’ll talk to me?”

“What did he say?” You ignore him.

He rubs his palm along the bedsheet, flattening out the creases with his veiny hands, “He said you were a liar. That I can’t trust anything you say.”

You frown, observing Yoongi’s reactions. Does he really believe what Jimin is saying? You daren’t even think of Jimin’s own lies, else you might start to hate him, and he seems to be the last thing you have to still- somewhat- look forward to these past few days, so you push that thought aside.

You shuffle closer to Yoongi, “And do you?”

“Do I what?” His tone is indecipherable- almost distant, calculating, but very aware of what your question means.

“Trust me?” You press, leaning forwards towards him.

He manoeuvres uncomfortably on the bed, bringing a hand up to the bridge of his nose, pinching it with a sigh. It’s a gesture he shares with Jimin. When you used to pry into his life, when he seemed stressed or worried or as if he was keeping something from you, you’d lay on question after question, adamant you’d find out and sort the problem. But he’d never cave. Instead, he’d just sigh and rub the bridge of his nose before taking you into his arms and kissing your head, telling you not to worry about it. Of course you still did, every time, but not once did he ever tell you. Thinking back now, he was clever about what he told you. Enough to keep you satisfied and not brilliantly curious, which was manipulative in his own way- but anyway, you won’t think about that.

“I don’t know if I should trust you or not,” he admits, causing you to involuntarily slump back again in defeat, “but for the first time in my life I just- I want to trust you.”

To say you’re stunned would be an understatement. Did he really just say he wants to trust you? You’re speechless, which frankly is a difficult thing to achieve with you. In the time you’ve known him, Yoongi’s never shared anything more than a family story with you, never actual feelings, and better yet feelings towards you. You shuffle a little closer to him, dangerously close, the man’s a killer after all, but somehow that doesn’t seem to matter right now.

“Then do,” you murmur, grazing his knee with yours and softening your demeanour. His sightline travels down to the contact and he stiffens momentarily and then calms, diffusing your apprehension and allowing you to relax into him. You swallow, visibly, gouging his reaction.

“I wanted to show you my library. I thought it might be a good place for you to be alone that isn’t here,” he announces, “Taehyung told me you didn’t seem well.” Your saviour.

You lean forwards, smiling slightly, “There’s a library here?”

“Well,” he grumbles, “It was my parents’ study, but after they died I cleared out the desks and brought in the books from our old house; they enjoyed reading.”

You nod in response, relishing the excitement of a library. Books. An abundance of books. After so long being entertained by paint drying the thought of some actual intellectual stimulation is beyond thrilling.

“Come on then.” He stands up, adjusting his slacks and making a move towards the door with you hot on his trail.

The corridors are filled once more with life, the hustle and bustle of men joking about as they head to eat, the odd woman carrying a basket of laundry, people holding clipboards as they run figures through their head. And something smells incredible, something from the kitchen. After your diet of plain potatoes and dry meat you’re more than welcoming to the scent lazily roaming the halls, enticing you to make a hasty break towards the fridge, but you refrain from doing so. You’d take books over food any day.

Yoongi guides you silently to an eerily empty hallway. The hallway containing the door Taehyung told you is strictly off-limits. Perhaps that’s the library? But you both walk straight past it, at a slightly faster pace, and again that smell is back. The smell of something burning in a frying pan, like a slab of fatty pork sizzling till the skin turns black and filling the entire place with that God-awful smell you have to open all the windows to release. You hold your breath until you’re passed.

“In here.” Yoongi indicates to a door, stepping aside and allowing you through first. You’re apprehensive at first, he’s never shown much chivalry before, so for a moment you question what will be on the other side- a hoard of angry dogs? A lethal snake? Another room to leave you locked in for a week?- but you still walk forwards, pushing down the handle and gently opening the door with an ominous creak.

The interior is a warm surprise. The bookshelves cover the floor to the ceiling over every wall, including the part above the doorway, and there are three more units down the centre with plush sofas at the end, practically calling you to curl up on them with some old novel and a cup of tea. You sigh in contentment, finally feeling a little at home in this place, finally feeling as though it isn’t all bad. 

“Wow.” You trace your fingers along the battered spines of the browning books, reading the titles. Jack and the Beanstalk, Cinderella, Hansel and Gretel, Little Red Riding Hood. This must be where the woman was getting you all those books.

“They read me a lot of children’s books when I was younger.” Yoongi rubs the back of his neck, a little awkwardly, a gesture you’ve never seen him use before. 

You glance back at the crooked spines, “I like Alice in Wonderland.” You recall the first book you received after arriving at the Enterprise, the story now bringing you a sense of comfort, that you’re not the only one falling into a whole other world you don’t entirely understand.

“I preferred Robin Hood.” You glimpse at his figure, stood domineeringly next to another shelving unit and again find yourself admiring his soft features, the gentle slop of his nose and the curve of his jawline. He’s not at all what you would’ve pictured having heard of some criminal mafia boss, not even close.

You walk down one of the aisles, stopping next to a particular section that holds the mystery genre. Your knuckles make contact with the bent backs and you clutch onto one titled ‘Five Little Pigs’. The paper feels thin and brittle as you flick wantonly through the different chapters, driving your excitement at the amplitude of stories now resting at your fingertips.

“Do you like Agatha Christie?” Yoongi inquires, now sat comfortably on one of the sofas.

You move to join him, book in hand, “I haven’t had the chance to read anything by her, but some of the film adaptations-“

You’re cut off by Yoongi’s throaty laugh, “Ah, so you’re a film-over-books type then?”

“No, not really,” you frown, “Jimin was.”

His smile drops almost instantly when you say his name, a new expression strewn over his features- something resembling distaste but you can’t quite decipher it.

“Course he was,” he scoffs, leaning back and resting one arm over the chesterfield, “A book’s probably a bit too much for him to handle.”

Although Jimin isn’t exactly you’re favourite person right now, it still hurts for someone to speak ill of him in front of you, so the sour look on your face is a subconscious effort you’re unable to prevent. You trail your focal point down to the book in your lap, avoiding Yoongi’s apathetic gaze.

“You alright, love?” He chuckles lightly, observing your reaction, “Didn’t think you still cared about him.”

“I don’t,” you snap, “I just don’t think it’s right for you to just- just- I don’t know, I just don’t think it’s right.”

He nods slowly, “Right. Well, I’m glad you don’t care about him anymore.” Your heart skips a beat. “It’d make staying here a lot more awkward- him being the enemy and all.” And then it slumps again.

“Certainly.” You push your lips to the side, searching for a change of subject, “So do you use this place often? To read and what not?”

Yoongi sighs, running his tongue across his lower jaw, “I don’t really have the chance. That’s why I’m showing you. You might make better use of the place.”

Your ears perk up a little, “You mean I can come here whenever?” He nods, and you grin harder.

“What about training? Do I still have to do training?”

“Of course you do,” he remarks, eyebrows raised, “I don’t expect you to stay here and do nothing but read all day.” If only. “Besides, I thought you and Jin were on good terms now. He did speak to me about you after all.”

You pout slightly, “Taehyung said. Although he’s never been nice to me leading up to this.”

“He told me you had a talk when we went away to sort out that shipment problem.”

“Barely,” you laugh, disbelievingly, “I wouldn’t exactly call us buddies.”

“Nobody here has ‘buddies’. But having an ally won’t hurt you.”

“Sure it won’t.”

Yoongi leans towards you, intrigued, “And what do you mean by that?”

“I’m sure you know all about perfidy.”

He nods, falling back slowly again, “Indeed I do. In fact I have reason to believe we’ve an informer living under our noses at the Enterprise, but no solid evidence just yet.”

You widen your eyes, digesting his words, “What? Why would you think that? Who would be an informer?”

“Just leaked information nobody could get from the outside to Jimin. It’s how he intercepted our last shipment; he just blamed you to cover up for the bastard. And if I knew who it was I would not be sat here with you right now, I’d be down in the hole with a scalpel and some forceps and-“ He stops himself, suddenly aware of the uncomfortable detail he’s going into.

You gulp, hunching over your posture and bringing your hands awkwardly onto the book ahead of you, trying to repress the bout of unease now billowing through you like waves. Sometimes it’s easy to forget his career path, and what that requires him to do. You’re positive his hands have been dirtied on more than one occasion, and he’s probably taken lives, but for some bizarre reason you find yourself trying to defend him- that he is just doing as his parents wanted him to. And this sudden desire to defend him makes you nervous.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “It just makes me angry not knowing.” You’re unphased by this; everything about him screams that he needs to dominate and control everything.

“It’s fine,” you utter back, “I would be frustrated too.”

You finally make eye contact, and his expression is now even more indecipherable than before. You can no longer tell if he’s actually difficult to read, or if you just aren’t very good at interpreting people. You decide against the latter.

An awkward silence ensues between the two of you; lingering like a foul smell in the air that nobody wants to acknowledge. You thumb at the edge of the book, bending the hardcover corner slightly and running your flesh over the point of it. Your fidgeting is clearly an uncomfortable distraction from your little ‘heart to heart’ with Yoongi, and he becomes apparently aware of it.

“Are you uncomfortable?” He asks, blatantly, “I can leave if you’d like that better. I can collect you in an hour or so?”

You shake your head rapidly, “No, no, no, I- it’s- I just- you…” Your trailing off leaves him curious as his eyes glisten with inquisition, his posture arching towards you.

“You what?” He presses.

You shrug dismissively and lower your head, “I don’t know. I guess I just want you to stay.” You mumble the last words, scrunching up your nose and avoiding looking at him as you can feel the damn smirk dancing on his lips. Why would you say that?

You hear him move back against the couch, “I would’ve stayed anyway.”

Ugh. You can sense the cocksure glint in his eyes without even looking. You want to take back the words, but it’s already too late. Besides, you’ve said a few stupid things now, what’s one more going to make a difference?

“So when am I going back to normal training with Jin then?” You attempt to divert the subject.

It’s bizarre really, referring to your training with Jin as ‘normal’. That implies that what you do is something anyone would do on a day-to-day basis, which actually is in no way the truth. But this is your new way of life, and you’ve become so quickly accustomed to it it’s somewhat terrifying. You guess you were groomed by Jimin’s tendency for secrets, his confidentiality about his work, his skilled fighting- you’ll never forget the way he pinned one man to the bar when he reached to grope your arse. It’s funny how fast things can change.

“Tomorrow, I’d hope. The longer you take away from your instruction the harder it will be to recover. And I need you top form, love.” Yoongi speaks with an encouraging decisiveness, making you smile at the notion you’ll be back doing something other than sitting around all day- and now you have access to all these books too, things seem to be looking up. Finally.

“Thank you.” You look up at him, gratefully.

The two of you make eye contact once again, and a sudden flurry of nervousness gathers in your stomach, throwing you about and making you feel dizzy. Yoongi’s gaze penetrates your calm expression, piercing through to unveil your inner cluster of emotions and for a second you swear you could see the same within him. As you look at him, now completely defenceless to his searing eyes glazing over you like a machine, he becomes less and less the mafia boss you once only perceived him as. No, now, sat here, entirely alone with him in one of his personal spaces, you feel as though something significant has changed, something that could change everything.

He shuffles forwards, “Y/N, I don’t know what it is, but I have this overwhelming voice telling me to kiss you.”

Your heart nearly stops.

Your knees touch like they did in your room, but this time far more purposefully as Yoongi runs his tongue across his lower lip, eyes flickering to yours with an unexpected passion burning like a fire and setting his skin alight, a similar effect that his touch has on you. And just as you can feel his breath against the tip of your nose, hear the way he exhales as he falls closer, feel the thumping of his heart as your hands close on his chest, the door opens. For fucks sake Taehyung.

The brunette man stands awkwardly in the doorframe, visibly panting and somewhat undisturbed by the scene he’s walked in on. Just as Yoongi stands up and shoves away from you, disappointing you slightly but you’d rather that than have Taehyung watch, Tae lifts up his head and speaks.

“Yoongi- I- sir- it’s Jimin- he’s- he’s here.”

What?

Masterlist / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[mocsbylexan]

Zaren and “Construct”

***

Zaren sighed. She was cold.

The timid Vo-Matoran shuffled her feet as she watched the waves roll on to the icy, desolate shore of Voya Nui. She was waiting for a dark hunter.

Zaren was the only one on the island who knew he was coming. She had slipped away to watch for him when Dezalk had come calling for everyone’s attention. Something about the “toa” wanting the matoran to gather together. Too bad, she had an appointment to keep. She didn’t trust the toa anyway. She knew who they were.

Life wasn’t easy on Voya Nui, even before the great cataclysm. Sure, back then they were part of the southern continent, but all the normal matoran on the continent lived by the coast. The matoran of Voya Nui were in the middle of the wilderness, isolated from other communities. Trade was difficult, and food not easy to farm or find. So Turaga Jovan, unbeknownst to his own people, had cut a deal with the dark hunters. They would bring supplies to the village; crop seeds from distant lands that grew even in the arid soil of the region; sturdy tools for farming and mining, not like the weapons of war Karzahni gave them. In return Jovan maintained a safe supply stop for hunters travelling through the center of the continent, hidden in the woods a few miles away from the village. He had built and ran the outpost with the help of a small team of trusted matoran, the only ones who knew about the deal.

After the cataclysm, Zaren had been the only survivor from that group. As she watched her friends struggle not to starve, she had contacted the hunters again. Now, more than ever, her people needed aid. But as contact was reestablished and Zaren began to send monthly reports on events on the island at The Shadowed One’s request, she realized she had revealed too much about the vulnerability of the island’s position. The supplies never came. The responses went from promises that they would arrive soon, to orders to shut up and keep writing, to veiled threats, to silence. Voya Nui could no longer offer what they had before, so The Shadowed One had redefined the terms of the deal. Zaren was now his unwilling spy. She had stopped writing once. The day after her second skipped report was due her best friend was found dead behind her home, his armor shredded to pieces. It looked like a rahi attack, but not by any rahi known to live on the island. It could have been a coincidence. Zaren had resumed her reports anyway.

When the six skakdi had arrived a month ago Zaren recognized some of them instantly. The black one and the red one. They had stayed at the Voya Nui outpost before the cataclysm. She immediately sent a report to The Shadowed One, telling him six hunters had arrived on Voya Nui and asking him what they were doing there. Maybe, just maybe, this time she would get some supplies. As a reward for reporting rogue hunters.

She was shaken out of her memories when she saw a steady glow through the mist. A tiny boat with a lone figure standing in it. In his hand a deep, violet colored beacon. That was the signal.

She tapped her twin magnetic hooks together and they began to emit a faint hum. She threw one of them out into the mist. She could hear a dull thud as it landed in the boat and latched on to something inside, then she felt a pull from the other as it suddenly tried to return to its twin. She dug her heels in and held on fast. The boat slowly drifted towards the shore.

As the boat emerged from the fog she could see its occupant. A tall being clad in blue and green armor with a Kanohi Mahiki and… a belt and a scarf? No, a strange cloak of some sort. He carried a long staff, and the source of the purple glow was a beautiful flower growing right out of the palm of his hand. A toa of plant life.

He stepped out of the boat and pulled it to shore before removing Zaren’s hook and letting it return to her. Zaren looked hopefully into the boat. Empty. No supplies.

Swallowing her anger and disappointment, Zaren turned to her new associate. “H-hello sir. My name is Zaren. I’m your contact here.”

The toa didn’t respond, as he was scanning the horizon. Zaren took the opportunity to get a better look at him. Something was… off about his body. Were toa supposed to have feet like that?

“I…” She coughed and picked up the heavy hunk of metal at her side. “I have this for you. It’s a prototype launcher of some sort, and some ammunition. I stole it from the rogue hunters’ base. Thought it might be useful to you.

The being that was once a toa of plant life looked down at her. He seemed to be pondering her for a moment. He took the launcher and nodded to her curtly. Then, without a word, he turned and strode off towards the green belt visible in the distance. Zaren stood there stunned for a moment, then picked up her grapplers and hurried after him.

As she walked behind him, she looked closer at his legs. She saw it now, at the joints… crooked weld lines, exposed wiring, chipped corners. Features every Voya Nui matoran was all too familiar with: the signs of an amateur repair job. They were all over him. His legs, his arms, his torso… half the parts in his body were replacements. But those parts… she’d seen them before, and recently. It couldn’t be. Six sets of parts just like these had arrived on Voya Nui a month ago.

That was when Zaren looked up and realized what his cloak was made of. She felt her blood run cold in her veins.

“E… e-excuse me sir!”

The being that was definitely no longer a toa of plant life turned to look at her with annoyance in his eyes. Zaren’s heartstone nearly stopped. She had met dark hunters that would kill a matoran for annoying them. But she had to know.

“I… just… I n-noticed…” She didn’t know what to say.

“W-why are your legs... like... that?”

For a moment the hunter looked down in confusion.

Then his eyes lit up with recognition. And he smiled. It was a smile that made Zaren shiver. The smile of a predator, full of gleeful pride that she had noticed.

“Upgrades.” he said in a voice far too gentle. “From the hunt.”

Then, still smiling, he turned and strode towards the green belt again, this time beckoning her to follow. “We’ll camp there. Good for my element.”

Zaren felt what little food was in her stomach threatening to rise as she remembered the message The Shadowed One had sent her a month ago.

“Thank you for informing me of the arrival of those annoyances on your shores. They are, in fact, rogue hunters who recently attempted to leave the ranks of my organization. Of course, I won’t tolerate that. Do not tell any of your fellow matoran about their true identity. I’m sending a hunter to you to reprimand them. His codename is “Construct”. He’s quite experienced at dealing with their species… and he enjoys doing so as well.

However, I have another task for you. I have heard rumors that my former hunters are searching for a particular artifact. One that could fetch a high price from the right buyer. Rather than punish them for their traitorous ways immediately, I would like to see if they will lead us to it. Watch them closely. Report their activities to me daily. Do not make your presence known to them. Do not apprehend or eliminate them until I order you to do so. You may need to… firmly remind your companion to restrain himself in this regard.

Stay close by my hunter’s side. Trust me… if I know those deserters, and if what I’ve heard about the artifact they are seeking is true… and who else may be seeking it… then by my hunter’s side is the safest place for you on that island.”

***

WHOOOOO okay sorry for the long post but I had to get that story out there.

I took a break from my usual story and characters to make these guys for @gantoscomics period piece MOCing contest! Yaaaaaay!

Also the first time I’ve tried writing something for this blog from an actual character’s POV! YAAAAAAAAAAAY!

Obviously I chose 2006 for my period. Not sure why, but that’s the year that always immediately comes to mind when I think of my favorite year of bionicle. Titans aren’t really my thing, and the canister builds alone are kind of boring for 2006, so I did a double feature: one Vezon/Inika inspired canister-sized set and one voyatoran. (Also, I just HAD to do a voyatoran because the original 6 are some of my favorite bionicle characters ever for personality, story, AND the sets). I’ve had the idea for years to have a character that wears a skakdi spine as some sort of grisly trophy, with their neck going through the mouth hole. The first MOC I tried to to that with was actually my interpretation of Lariska. I know someone’s probably done it already by now, but I was really glad I could get a MOC that used that idea out there.

Plus that zamor crossbow. It’s kinda lopsided and WAY too heavy. I feel like I could have made a better one if I had access to some pieces from later years, but it was a nice challenge to do it this way instead. Also the balls fall out if you so much as breathe on it the wrong way, but I figured that was more accurate to how the designers did things anyway.

[fueledbysprite]

The Morning After

continuation of  https://writing-from-the-void.tumblr.com/post/172780845183/up-too-late

thanks to @lotus-duckies again for her awesome ideas

Marinette woke up somewhere around 2am. She blinked around blearily for a moment, eyes adjusting to her surroundings before realizing how early it was, and the fact that she wasn’t sleeping in her own bed. She flailed around for a few moments, meaning to try and sit up, but relaxed and gave in once she came to. It was then that she heard the faintest of murmurs, straining her ears and willing herself to stay still to hear what they were saying. The murmuring stopped for a second, and she glanced around, looking for the source when she noticed something else. Oh, right, Nathaniel was staying over the night.

She blinked and moved her head a bit closer to his. He was snoring softly, but also mumbling something under his breath that she couldn’t catch. She leaned closer yet, but as quietly as possible so she wouldn’t disturb him.

“...I’m going to miss you, Marinette...”

Marinette froze involuntarily. She quickly crawled back to her previous place, curling up to create as much distance between them as possible, and hid her head in between her legs and her chest. She could feel her face heating up and silently screamed at herself to stay quiet.

I didn’t hear anything, she reminded herself. Just go back to sleep and pretend you never woke up…

***

The next time Marinette woke up, sunlight was flooding the entire attic and she was the only one in the room. Her clothes sat in a neatly folded pile in front of her closet, but Nathaniel was nowhere to be seen. She looked around in confusion, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, when it finally occurred to her how late it must have been. She looked around for her phone, finding it somewhere under the chaise, and clicked it on: the screen read 9:01.

Marinette nearly dropped the device and immediately activated panic mode. She scrambled to gather her things from all around the room and change her clothes as fast as possible. She grabbed a croissant from downstairs, raced down the stairs and sprinted inside the school building. There, she slowed down and paused long enough to only just catch her breath before throwing open the classroom door.

“Sorry I’m late!” she screeched, throwing herself towards her seat before Mme Bustier called her out again.

Only, Mme Bustier was nowhere to be seen. In fact, none of the students seemed to be sitting quietly at their own desks as usual this morning.

“I’ll have you know that my father can easily have you arrested and thrown in jail for drugs,” Chloe announced.

Marinette turned and was surprised to see that the object of the blonde’s declaration was none other than Nino. She stared uncomprehendingly, and Nino, too, looked similarly nonplussed.

“Chloe, for the last time, I swear, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I never once called last night.”

“Oh really?” the heiress asked skeptically. “I got a call last night threatening me if I didn’t go to some shady alleyway at midnight. Who else could it be?”

Nino looked incredibly exasperated as he struggled to convince Chloe that it wasn’t him who had called, and Marinette was just about to intervene herself when Alya came up to her.

“About time you showed up,” she said, unimpressed. “Now spill.”

“Wha-what do you mean?” Marinette asked, more confused yet.

“Come on, girl, don’t beat around the bush. You know what I’m talking about!” When Marinette still looked baffled as ever, the blogger sighed and leaned in. “You know,” she said meaningfully. “What’s up between you and Nath?”

Marinette blinked several times.

“I’m sorry, what?” she asked.

Alya arched an unconvinced eyebrow.

“Nathaniel,” she repeated, as if that might surface an inkling of recognition in Marinette’s mind.

“Yeah...what about him?” Marinette responded doubtfully.

Alya rolled her eyes.

“Fine, guess I’ll just have to spell it out for you. Last night, apparently, Nathaniel stayed over at your place and you two got up to some...interesting...activities...hm?” she raised an eyebrow suggestively. “Come on, now, give me all the deets, girl!”

Marinette stared, realization dawning on her.

“Ohhh, you think-ohh, okay, no, nevermind, no-NO! Now I know what you’re talking about...yeah, no, you’re totally wrong, it’s not like that, you’ve got it all wrong...”

***

Meanwhile, Nino had finally managed to pull himself away from Chloe’s paranoid scrutiny and cornered Nathaniel at the back of the room.

“Honestly, dude, I would never have imagined you as that kind of person!” he expressed in incredulity.

“I’m...not?” Nathaniel asked dubiously. “What are we talking about, again?”

“Sure, man, go ahead and deny it now. I guess you never do know what to expect with the quiet ones…” Nino shook his head, sighing. “Seriously, though, I totally had you down for this meek, shy, socially awkward guy. Who'd've thought?”

Nathaniel stared in confusion.

“I'm sorry, what happened?” he asked.

Nino looked at him in disbelief.

“So you're telling me you weren't at Marinette’s last night?”

“Well, yeah, I was-oh. Oh. I see, now…” the redhead let out a shaky breath of relief. “So that's all. I was scared something happened that I didn't know about…”

“And you're totally fine that you spent the night at a girl's place where you proceeded to reveal that this innocent shy guy is all a facade?!”

“Come on, you're making it sound like we actually did something questionable-”

Nino stared in shock.

“What are you talking about?! That's exactly what happened!”

Nathaniel's mouth went dry.

“I, huh? Wha-what d’you mean?” he stammered. “You don't think we were…that, do you?”

“What else am I supposed to be thinking?” Nino replied bewildered. “We got a call from her place last night, nobody was responding but from what it sounding like was going on,” he gestured meaningfully. “Y’know…”

“I...um...sorry, I just…don't know how to respond to that, er… Lemme just tell you that I swear, that is not what was going on, okay?” he asked, almost desperately. “Please tell me no one else knows about this?”

“Well, yeah, why would we tell anyone???” Nino assured him. “Alya’s going nuts, though, she totally thinks you two are having some kind of secret affair-”

“No!” Nathaniel cut him off, pulling away and running to the front of the room, where Alya was interrogating Marinette.

“Hey, Nathaniel, maybe you'll give me some straight answers-” Alya started when she noticed him.

“It's not what you think it is!” he insisted quickly.

She paused, looking back and forth between the two.

“Well,” she shrugged, “if you guys are gonna keep denying it, no point trying to get any answers out of you…” She sighed disappointedly, but stopped questioning Marinette nonetheless.

Nathaniel went to the back of the room after that, and Mme Bustier arrived a few moments later.

“Sorry, class, I ran late this morning and couldn't get here on time,” she apologized, signaling the beginning of class.

Nino quickly slid into the seat next to Adrien, who shifted closer and leaned in.

“Say, what was that all about back there with Nathaniel?” he asked.

“Nothing you have to worry about,” the DJ assured his friend. Adrien shrugged and turned back to the lesson.

***

Adrien wasn't the only one confused and concerned about the incident. Marinette and Nathaniel found themselves being plagued by curious glances all day, and by the time they were dismissed to go home, even Marinette was ready to change her address and move a couple continents away. She assured herself she wasn't being paranoid, but she could self-consciously sense inevitable rumors floating around the school.

***

They decided to meet up at Nathaniel's place this time. His house was further away and more isolated from all the curiosity hovering around the bakery apartment.

Marinette treated herself to a snack that Nathaniel's mom had left out for them, then they both went to his bedroom. Marinette shrugged off her bag and threw herself against the softest platform available, which just so happened to be his bed. She pulled one of his pillows out from underneath her and hugged it to her chest.

“Ughhh, that was the worst,” she expressed hopelessly.

Nathaniel sighed in accord and settled into his desk chair.

“I'm really regretting those prank calls, now,” he agreed. “More trouble than they're worth.”

Marinette nodded glumly.

“So, I guess we're not working on the decorations tonight?” he asked.

“Mm, the stuff is at my place and I don't wanna go back there right now,” she mumbled, forcing herself to sit up.

She got up off the bed and went to Nathaniel's closet, pulling it open.

“Say, were my clothes too loose, you said?” she asked thoughtfully.

“A bit, yeah.”

“And your own? You're always cuffing your sleeves and pants.”

“It isn't really easy to find stuff in my size that doesn't have a super-childish logo plastered on it,” he shrugged. “I like this style, but it didn't come in a small-enough size. This shirt was size extra-small and it only fit me properly after, like, three times in the wash.”

“I could design you some if you want,” she offered. “I sewed practically my entire wardrobe. I could make something for you too.”

“I wouldn't want to be an inconvenience,” he assured her.

“I'd love to, honestly,” she told him.

“Well, uh, okay, then,” he relented.

For some time, there wasn't much talking, just Marinette rustling around, taking measurements and making notes on his style. Finally, she put the last sweatshirt back in the closet and stepped away, a sheet of references in hand. She put it away in her backpack for safekeeping, then returned to Nathaniel's room.

“So, about last night, huh?” Nathaniel asked once she had settled into a comfortable place on the floor.

“Ugh, Alya's never going to let me hear the end of it,” she groaned.

“Mm, but what about the others?” he asked. “Nino swore he wouldn't tell anyone, but I guess they already know something or other. Chloe thinks it was Nino who sent that first prank call.”

“Well, we definitely don't know the person who got the second one, and they most probably won't recognize is ever, so that's one good thing…”

“And after the third one, Alya’s convinced we're a couple or something,” he finished. “She wouldn't believe you, would she?”

Marinette shook her head.

“It's fine, though, we both know that you still like Adrien,” he said in an attempt to brighten the mood.

It seemed to have the opposite effect, however. Marinette looked horrified.

“Oh my gosh,” she groaned, stuffing her face into a nearby pillow. “I completely forgot. What is Adrien going to think after this?!”

“He doesn't know, though…” Nathaniel supplied.

“But he could find out! What if he thinks we're a couple and that I don't like him! That would be the actual absolute worst!” she sighed hopelessly. “My life is ruined!”

“I promise it won't be that bad,” Nathaniel consoled. “If he thinks anything is going on between us, I'll make sure he gets the facts straight. I could even stay away from you so he doesn't get the wrong message,” he suggested. Marinette looked up and glared.

“So you want to leave me, too?” she asked, distraught.

“Nonono, it's the opposite actually,” he explained quickly. “I just want you to be happy. That's all, I promise.”

Marinette softened, the memory of Nathaniel talking in his sleep suddenly resurfacing in the strangest of ways and times. She quickly pushed it out of her mind.

“You're a huge dork, you know that?” she told him.

“Well, I mean, I thought the posters would get the message across by now, uh…” he chuckled awkwardly, waving to the decorations adorning majority of the walls. Mostly anime and comic book superheroes.

“Don't worry, we'll find a way out of this,” she promised him.

“Of course we will,” he agreed. “And, uh, lesson learned. No more prank calls.”

“Aw, really?” Marinette asked teasingly. “Darn it, I was hoping you might use that sweet-talking thing on Chloe, see what she thought of it.”

“Not a chance,” Nathaniel told her stiffly. “Don't even think about it.”

“Well, I guess I can dream, can't I?” she giggled, sticking out her tongue.

“Maybe I should do it to you and send Adrien a recording,” he suggested.

“You wouldn't,” Marinette said in horror.

“Really?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay I'll stop teasing you,” Marinette put her hands up in surrender.

“And no more sleepovers,” he added.

“Right, definitely no more sleepovers,” she agreed.

***

A decision that neither of them would be able to keep.

But that's a story for another time.

[lowkeyjustvibing]

Heya, another chapter

Chapter 2: That’s a lot of plants… Germ’s P.O.V

So anyway, I started running. 

My comrade, Datura, my good pal, my home slice bread slice, my amigo, was hurt. I could feel something was off. The vines were still squirming about and I could see a small green glow coming from the back of the alley. 

“Datura?” I called, noticing a couple of the vines twitch.

I cautiously stepped forward, being mindful of any small plants on the ground. When I was a couple of feet away from the source of the green light, I paused.

“You ok, my friend?” I asked.

Datura stared at me looking hurt and babyish, sucking on a bleeding pointer-finger, “One of your jerk friends cut my finger!” she frowned, sitting down in a bed of vines, “Rude.”

I giggled a little, sitting down next to her, “Sorry, Ahiru is pretty jumpy. Also, the vines were going crazy out there so he kind of deserved to be pretty freaked out.”

She scoffed, “Still mean…”

“What got you so excited anyway?”

Datura gleamed and squeaked something incomprehensible. She continued making a noise akin to an audible key smash and finally said, “I found a pretty flower! But not just any flower! No, no, no! I found trilliums!!”

I was somewhat confused, “Uh, my bad but, what’s that again?”

She looked disappointed but continued excitedly, “A trillium is a rare and beautiful flower. They’re one of my favorites, but the wildlife like to eat them, especially deer. The fact that they are now able to exist here, in rocky and unstable terrain, and when it’s cold out is… Amazing! I’m trying to bring them safely back to my home. Do you think you could give me a hand?”

I shrugged, “Sure! Could I have one too?”

She thought for a moment, “Hmm, maybe when I manage to grow a few more, and if they do well in an indoor climate.”

“Deal!”

She moved aside and in the corner was a small patch of white, three-petaled flowers. There were red stripes on some of them and others were pure red.

“They are pretty,” I said and Datura practically beamed.

“Yes! And that’s exactly why I’m bringing them home!” She said, “Now, stand back.”

I stepped back and watched as a smaller vine poked up underneath the patch of flowers and lifted them out of the ground. I was amazed by how delicate it was and reached out to poke one of them as it rose. The vines wrapped around the roots in a bowl shape, making a large flower pot out of her vines. Datura carefully placed the small flowers into the large vine-pot and handed it to me.

“Now you better not drop this or so help me I’m bringing one of these buildings down on you.” She threatened and I nodded, not too bothered as this was a normal thing.

“Alrighty, now let’s head back.” As I stepped off I remembered something and turned back to her, “Oh yeah, I forgot to mention. The other three think you’re trying to kill us so I don’t suggest speaking in threats as usual.”

She shrugged, “Yeah, not surprised.”

We walked out of the alley just as the others were walking in. I saw them all tighten their grips on their weapons and immediately shot them all a glare.

“Put down the weapons you idiots, she’s not gonna’ do anything,” I said, walking past them.

Datura glared and mumbled, “My bad for almost killing you…” before anyone could respond she whispered to me, “Meet me back at the treehouse with the trilliums.” she then shifted into a small black cat and sped off, disappearing into the distance.

I waved goodbye and then turned back to everyone else who was giving me fairly disappointed looks.

“What?” I asked, “I was making sure she was OK!”

Regenold groaned, “What’s the rule, Germ?”

I rolled my eyes, “‘No goofing off with dangerous beings capable of mass destruction’. Yeah, yeah, mom.”

“Germ, c’mon.” Blaize said, “We’re not here to mess around, we’re trying to stay alive.”

“Well, what’s the point of being alive if there’s no enjoyment?” I responded and everyone went silent, “Yeah, I thought so.” I mumbled, walking back towards the base.

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

I kicked the tree and heard a dull thud, “Datura! I’ve got your plant!”

After a few moments, a plank of wood with two vines attached to the sides descending from the treehouse. I hopped on and the plank slowly started rising again. When it reached the top, I hopped out into the small wooden structure. It was a fairly homey place, only illuminated by a few lanterns and bioluminescent plants. There were numerous pots filled with all sorts of plants. I made my way towards the greenhouse, dancing around the vines strewn about the floor.

“Daturaaaaaa!” I called.

“Over here!” She responded.

I finally got to the greenhouse. It was a small glass room attached to the tree by multiple branches. There were even more plants coating the room, some hanging from the ceiling and others covering the floor. It was very humid in there and the walls were coated with a layer of perspiration. 

“Here,” I said, handing her the small vine pot.

She smiled, “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.

“A small price to pay for some clean air,” I responded, reaching around the back of my head and undoing the clasps on my mask.

It felt good to finally take the cumbersome thing off. Unfortunately, the only time I could was when I was in Datura’s house. It was always meticulously clean and so was the air. I felt comfortable there which was half the reason I went there. The other half was because Datura was nice to be around. She never expected me to act ��normal’ or socialize. Most of the time I would sit next to a plant and read or draw up plans. She didn’t force me to talk, and most of the time we both enjoyed the silence and calm energy. Datura taught me about the plants, telling me what was edible, and which were harmful, or poisonous. 

I didn’t understand why the others were so hateful and wary of her. I guess it was since she’s one of the 09’s but honestly, she hasn’t done anything that bad. The worst was probably the time when she gave Blaize a scar, and that was in self-defense. I honestly felt bad for her. She was a person with a heart of gold but still got hate from everybody. To top that off, I can’t remember if she had friends other than me and her plants. Guess all that isolation did have a toll on her.

“Hey, Datura?” I asked after a while.

“Yeah?” She responded, watering the trilliums.

“Why do you hang out with me?”

She paused and glanced back at me, “Because I actually like you. Most humans just destroy every little plant they see. However, you genuinely respect nature, and thus you have my respect.”

“Respect…. That’s a nice feeling to have.”

We both relaxed on the wooden floor of Datura’s home, staring at the plant-covered ceiling. The flowers that grew upon the vines were quite lovely and to be completely honest, I wish I could stare at them forever. However, I knew that I had to return to the base eventually, otherwise Regenold would believe that Datura killed me. On the other hand, a few more minutes couldn’t hurt.

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

In short, I stayed there for one more hour, talking about philosophy and botany with Datura. We were both just relishing the comfortable silence when we heard a knock at the door. 

“Germ! Come down this instant!” Regenold yelled, “Or else we are busting in!”

“You seriously can’t let me spend one night with Datura?!” I shouted back.

“No! It’s dangerous out here! Plus, I am not going to let you have the sweet release of death just yet!”

“Then make me!”

Regenold began to climb up the tree like a lizard. It was scary. The way he climbed so easily was creepy in itself. I decided to climb just to avoid seeing that, but not before saying goodbye.

“I’ll be back!” I shouted and grabbed my backpack and strapped on my mask before hopping onto the ‘lift’.

I heard her yell goodbye right before I got to the ground and started running. Regenold eventually caught me and dragged me back to the base. I refused to talk the whole way and he only spoke once we got back to the base.

“Blaize.” He said, “Make sure she doesn’t leave.”

“And if she does?” Blaize asked.

Regenold glanced back at me for a moment, “If she leaves the base, I’m burning her plushie.”

I instantly hugged my backpack to my chest, glaring at him, “You wouldn’t dare.”

He gave me a look that said ‘try me’ and walked off, leaving Blaize and me alone. After a few moments, he broke the silence.

“Off with Datura again?” He asked, sitting down next to me.

“Yeah…” I mumbled, digging around in my backpack.

Eventually, I found what I was looking for. A small, teal, tadpole plushie that had obvious signs of age. There were spots where the previously fuzzy fabric had become coarse and multiple patches covering rips in the toy. Regenold had gone below the belt when he threatened to burn my plush after I ran off to meet up with Datura. It was like a security blanket for me. I always had it in my backpack and would sleep with it every night. It always reminded me of the days before the 09’s. The days when my family was still around and I wasn’t alone. I felt a tear slip down my face and Blaize sighed, moving closer to give me a one-sided hug.

“I know,” He said quietly, “it’s OK to feel sad.”

I sniffled a little, “Are you ever sad?”

He hesitated for a moment, “Of course, I’m human. All of us get sad.”

“What are you sad about?”

“I miss my friends. My home. My whole life.”

I nodded, squeezing my plush even more, “So do I…”

We stayed there for a while, thinking about everything that was gone. All the things we’d never get back.

“Sometimes I like to think about what we have now,” Blaize said after a while.

“Like what?” I asked.

He thought for a moment, “Well, at least we’ve got Regenold and Ahiru.”

“And Datura.” I piped up, getting a chuckle from him.

“And Datura, no matter how weird we may think she is.”

There was silence for a moment before I loosened my death grip on my plush and returned the one-sided hug.

“Thanks, Blaize.”

“No problem, Germ.”

[harleyquilt]

Lost (angst fic)

Summary: kirishima siblings looking for shelter as wandering children a few weeks after escaping the ccg

Rating: angst with a few minor dark scenes

Word count: 2310

Notes: wasn't gonna post today, but might as well.

It was cold. Dusk had past and now the peach coloured sky was pitch black with thick clouds that rolled in, a cold gust of wind followed with them. Touka shivered, ayato stirring slightly in his sleep against her back as she held onto his legs tightly with his small hands that clung onto touka shirt with his nails digging into her skin, but she ignored the pain.

"Just...a little...Further." Touka panted, her breath frosty as she spoke. "Don't worry, ayato. We'll make it and maybe...maybe dad will find us then."

Ayato mumbled in his sleep, whispering touka's name softly. With a weak smile, touka paused for a moment and listened to her younger brothers ramblings. Apparently it was something their mother did in her sleep too, but touka couldn't remember.

After a moment, touka continued to trudge onwards, biting her lip to distract her from the burning pain she felt in her shaking legs. She was exhausted and hadn't slept for the past two days; it was tough looking for shelter, touka and ayato usually sleeping at any bus stations and shrines they could find. During that time, three weeks to be exact, touka continued to reassure ayato that their father would find them and bring them home, even if she wasn't so sure herself. However, she was beginning to see Ayato's hope falter, his faith in her words slowly crumbling away with each passing day. The truth behind the lie was becoming obvious to the both of them, but neither had the courage to admit to such a thing.

Perhaps that hope was the only thing that kept them going. For that reason, touka continued to ignorantly hope for what she already knew was a dead end.

Touka tripped over a crack in the pavement, the sudden jolt waking up ayato with a slight whimper as he rubbed his eyes.

"O-Onee-chan?" Ayato only heard touka respond with a tired sigh, his eyes adjusting to his dim surroundings. "Where are we?"

"I think we're near the sixth ward." Touka placed him down, shaking the stiffness from her arms and back. "I'm not sure."

They both let their eyes wander around the isolated area they were in. It almost felt too quiet, the street narrow and littered, turning off to dark alleyways with nothing but dim streetlights to light the area. Ayato shivered and grabbed onto touka's arm, pressing his face into her shirt.

"I'm scared." He whispered, nervously peering back up before he turned away once again. "And hungry."

"I know." She patted his head with her other hand. They continued walking, touka practically dragging ayato behind her with him flinching from every little thing he saw. "Just...just hang in there. We'll find shelter soon."

"But what if we see those scary men again?" With a stubborn pout, he held touka back, his eyes darting to his surroundings. "What if we can't escape? Dad should be here. Why did he leave? Everything was fine before he left. Where is he?"

His voice raised into a shout with every question, touka unable to answer his demands as his shouting turned into desperate sobs and his tears trailed down his filthy cheeks. Touka hushed him after a moment, the frustration building up whilst she asked herself the same questions. There's really no knowing to where this crooked path may lead, the end threatening them every second of every day and touka was finding it harder to ignore this fact herself.

"Please, ayato." Touka begged. "Be quiet. Someone might notice us-"

"I don't care!" He snapped, pushing her arm back. "I want to go home."

"There is no home!" He stepped back, a little startled at her sudden temper. He watched as touka pressed her quivering lips together and turn her head away to wipe away the small tears that formed in her eyes. He hadn't seen her cry before.

"Onee-chan..."

"There is no home." She repeated more firmly. "Not anymore. Please, let's just go. It's getting late."

She held out a hand, waiting for him to take it, but he hesitated for a moment. He kicked the ground, his head lowered and his hands tightly gripping his shirt, twisting the fabric around his fingers. Touka could hear the muffled whimpers and sobs, his tears rolling down his cheeks and fell onto the ground.

"Daddy isn't coming, is he?" Ayato turned his head up slightly, watching touka wince and lower her hand.

"Let's just go, ayato." Touka insisted, unsure on how to answer a question she wasn't even sure of the answer of herself. She just didn't know what to tell him anymore.

There's another long silence before ayato finally gave in and held onto touka's hand, wiping his nose with his sleeve. They walked on in silence, touka squeezing her brother's hand tightly whilst fighting back her own tears. They were only two children and yet here they are, wandering the empty streets, desperately seeking out a new home that they knew wouldn't come.

All of a sudden, touka stopped, her eyes widened as she lifted her head, the smell of flesh nearby. She tugged on Ayato's arm, quickly breaking into a sprint and chased after the sweet smell. It wasn't long before ayato caught the scent himself, growing excited for food. However, this sudden burst of joy took an abrupt turn when they finally found the source; a corpse lay on the ground, a homeless man torn open with his intestines hanging out of his stomach, one arm messily ripped off and his blood splattered face twisted with pain, his eyes and jaw wide open but frozen.

Another man stood over the dead body, a handful of dripping guts in one hand. His red eyes gleamed in the dark, ayato hiding behind touka's arm. Her mind was screaming for her to run as the man turned his head up, noticing the two intruders, but she was paralysed with fear that overtook her trembling body. The ghoul dropped his snack, wiping his bloody mouth with his arm and stepped towards the two children. There was something about him that yelled out danger, a dark aura surrounding him.

"Onee-chan." Ayato whispered desperately, pulling her arm, but touka didn't move. She couldn't. "Let's go!"

"What do we have here?" The ghoul drawled. In the light, they saw he was a middle aged man, his hair messy locks with a scratchy beard and tattered clothes. He took another step closer and laughed mockingly when the two children flinched. "Two little rats interrupting my meal."

He lifted his hand towards them, as if he was about to grab them, but touka still couldn’t move, even with ayato calling out her name in her ear. Touka gasped, suddenly breaking out of the chains that held her down when ayato stepped in front of her all of a sudden, his shaking hands clenched and his lips pressed together with his head lifted. His eyes were wide, his anger mixed with an uncanny anxiety that went through his small body.

"L-Leave nee-chan and me a-alone." He stammered, narrowing his eyes at the older man. Touka reached out for him, her heart slamming against her chest, begging for him to turn back.

Before she could call out for her brother, the man shoved him aside, ayato knocking into the wall with a loud thud. With a low chuckle, the man kneeled down to touka, pulling her back when she tried to run to ayato. The man stared at the girl in front of him, a snarky smirk on his blood covered lips.

"What a pretty little girl we have here." His voice sounded cold, sending violent shivers down touka's spine when he brushed back her hair with touka wincing under his touch. "Are you lost, little girl? I could take care of you if you want-"

Touka scowled, her teeth gritted and the anger suddenly flooding through her veins, her rage replacing the fear and giving her courage. With a loud shriek, she lifted her arm and scratched him deeply, her nails clawing through his skin. She ran from his grip whilst he fell back, his cheek now bleeding.

"Leave us alone." She screamed, feeling something well up in her shoulder before her kagune burst, a sharp pain followed by a burning sensation coursed through her slouched body, touka ignoring the pain with her hand holding onto her aching shoulder.

"Damn bitch!" He leaped up, his red eyes wide and wild, but he paused when they both of them heard a unfamiliar voice.

"The fuck you doing, Ame?" The voice asked, another man walking down into the alleyway and took in the scene around him. His eyes wandered between the man, the corpse and the two children, his brows raised with an almost unimpressed look before he turned to his friend again.

"This little rat did this to me." He hissed, gesturing towards the scratch mark that was already beginning to heal. "First you interrupt my meal and then-"

"Calm down, she's like what? Eight?" His eyes glanced back to the kagune that rippled with a continuous burst of changing colours. "Besides, it's already healed. What kind of man bullies a child, hm?"

The man tutted and stood up straight, glaring at touka before he went back to the corpse to rip another arm off for himself. He murmured something something to his friend before disappearing around the corner of the alleyway. Touka's kagune faded away as she rushed to Ayato's side, helping him up whilst she checked for any wounds. They both froze when the stranger stood in front of them, an almost pitying look on his face.

"Are you kids alone?" He asked slowly, looking up and down the alleyway. They both remained silent. "Wouldn't be the first orphan ghoul kids wandering around. The body is yours, brats. Think of it as a way to compensate for the way my friend treated ya. Oh and if you're looking for shelter, there's the 24th ward. It's underground, but it's safer than being out here. See ya."

He leaves the two children, ayato and touka waiting a while after he left to make sure he kept true to his word, the two holding onto each other tightly. Touka finally broke away, edging towards the now cold body with the overwhelming stench of human blood filling her nose. Her stomach growled and she kneeled down, taking a piece of broken off flesh and nibbled it, her eyes squeezed shut and her hand trembling slightly. It tasted bitter, which wasn't saying much considering the corpse this meat came from, but she scoffed the rest of it down, calling for ayato to join her.

"I..." He squeaked, unable to look at the body. "I don't want to."

Touka stood, a slight frown in her expression. She looked down to the meat in her hand, holding it out for him to take but he quickly shook his head, refusing to even look at it.

"Dammit, ayato." Touka sighed, walking towards him. "Just eat already!"

She shoved the meat into his mouth and despite his loud protests, he finally gave in and took the meat, chewing on it slowly and his face scrunching up to the taste. Touka watched him until he had swallowed it all and gave him some more. He took it all unwillingly, forcing it all down as touka took some more meat for herself.

"We should really take some for the journey." Touka said to herself. "Too bad we don't have bags-"

She stopped by the sounds of ayato sniffling, a pang of guilt in her heart. She shouldn't have been so hard on him, not after everything they've went through. It was unfair to let her frustration out on him. Why couldn't she just be the sister he needs?

She wiped her hands on the corpses body and went over to ayato to wipe the blood off his hands with the hem of her dress. He watched silently, unable to meet her in the eyes. They've went through so much in so little time, it almost seems ridiculous and only now have things took a turn for the worse. Ayato couldn't hold back the constant tears that streamed down his face, repressing the sobs that were lodged in his throat.

"I'm sorry." Touka said finally once she was done, pulling ayato into a tight hug. She smothered his face into her shoulder, wrapping her arms tightly around him. "I'm sorry, ayato. I'm not dad, but I will protect you. No matter where we are or who we face, I'll always be by your side. I'll always be your big sis. So please...Please stay strong. Atleast for now. Just for a little longer."

Ayato hugged her back, nodding quickly and also giving her a flurry of apologies. They stay like that for a little longer before touka goes to find some place to sleep. They find an old cardboard box, touka grabbing a blanket from where she presumed the now dead homeless man slept and wrapped ayato in it, resting his head on her knee.

"Onee-chan, could you sing me that song dad always sang before bed." Ayato asked, his eyes lit up as he looked back up to her. She smiled and leaned back, trying to remember the lyrics.

"I guess I have no choice." She nodded, Ayato's own smile growing and listened closely.

"Little bird, little bird, why do you cry? Is it that in the sky, is where you wish to fly? Why, little bird, little bird, why don't you just try and maybe one day, some day, you will join us in the sky."

When she looked down again, she saw ayato was in a deep sleep, breathing softly against her leg. He didn't deserve any of this ane it's likely that after everything, he'll never be the same little brother she knew before everything went to hell.

"Daddy." Touka whimpered. "I miss you."

After a while, she soon fell asleep herself, the sound of distant traffic and the cold breeze soothing her until she could finally rest. It wasn't over yet.

Not by a long shot.

[stereksummerexchange]

How Is Your Heart?

For @marauders-mess, who requested NSFW AU’s of the emissary!stiles or feral!derek variety - here’s a bit of both! Hope you enjoy it :)

by @sylvesterelle

Explicit - AO3

Derek thought it’d feel like weightlessness. That’s how it felt after the fire - like so many of the strings grounding him had been cut, like he was one strong breeze away from oblivion.

So when the unthinkable happens and the unbreakable breaks, Derek doesn’t understand what he’s feeling. Doesn’t understand that instead of weightlessness, there would be nothing but weight. The weight of his pain, of his loss, of the sudden, inexorable truth of his own isolation.

And then Derek doesn’t understand anything at all.

Or: the AU where Derek goes feral after the death of his alpha and only the power of ~true love~ can bring him back.

Derek thought it’d feel like weightlessness. That’s how it felt after the fire - like so many of the strings grounding him had been cut, like he was one strong breeze away from oblivion.

He coped by holding on to Laura with everything he had. He poured his strength into their connection, not only as sister and brother, but as alpha and beta. Laura was his anchor in every sense of the word, an unbreakable tie, a final stronghold against whatever lay on the other side of humanity.

So when the unthinkable happens and the unbreakable breaks, Derek doesn’t understand what he’s feeling.

Doesn’t understand the crushing pain exploding in every bone, muscles screaming from the strain and mind suddenly empty of everything but the barely conscious cry of too much and I can’t and please.

Doesn’t understand that instead of weightlessness, there would be nothing but weight. The weight of his pain, of his loss, of the sudden, inexorable truth of his own isolation.

He doesn’t understand it, but he feels it. Feels it until his teeth crack from clenching and his vision tunnels to black. Until his skin tears and the shift rips through his body, bones breaking and rearranging in a last ditch effort to survive the pain.

And then Derek doesn’t understand anything at all.

-

They get the call during one of Stiles’ summer emissary lessons.

He’d started training soon after Scott and the pack put Peter down once and for all, unwilling to ignore whatever spark Deaton said he had if it could be used to protect his friends.

They’d started simple – theory of magic, taxonomy of supernatural creatures, duties and traditions of a pack emissary. Only recently has Deaton let him in on the good stuff, all the protective runes and floaty light balls and Harry Potter-esque spells that fill Stiles with shameless nerd joy.

He’s in the middle of practicing his levitation at the vet’s office when “Werewolves of London” rings through the room, shattering his concentration. The jar of dog treats drops back to the table and Stiles sighs as he digs his phone out of his pocket, ignoring Deaton’s disapproving look.

“This better be good, Scotty,” Stiles says. “I was in the middle of kicking gravity’s ass.”

 “Oh sweet bro, you finally got it?” Scott asks, dopey grin carrying loud and clear over the line.

 “A whole 3 inches, buddy – just you wait, I’ll be floating your furry ass in no time. But what’s up, you know I’ve got wizard training until 6.”

“Sorry man, but I think you’re gonna have to cut it short. We’ve got a problem.”

Stiles frowns, exchanging a glance with Deaton. “Hold on, I’m putting you on speaker.”

He sets the phone on the table and leans back, crossing his arms. “Alright, what’s going on?”

“Isaac and I heard howling during our perimeter run and followed it back to the Hale House. There’s a wolf here and we think it might be an omega, but there’s something wrong with it, dude.” Scott says, voice concerned.

“Like foaming-at-the-mouth, rabies-infested wrong?“ Stiles asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know dude, maybe. It looks sick – it’s all skinny and dirty and won’t respond to either of us. It straight up tried to eat Isaac when he got too close to the porch. And the howls, man, I’ve never heard anything like it.”

Deaton frowns, leaning closer to the phone. “Did they sound aggressive, like it was calling out for reinforcements?”

“No man,” Scott says, “it sounded miserable.”

-

 Ten minutes later, Stiles is turning off the main highway and onto the dirt road that leads to the Hale house, hidden but for a blackened chimney rising above the trees. Deaton agreed that the wolf needed further evaluation, but declined to come with Stiles.

“What, you’re just going to send me off on my own to deal with some strange, possibly feral, probably dangerous werewolf?” Stiles had asked incredulously as Deaton handed him a few herbs and bundled him out the door.

“You’re more than capable to handle a single rogue omega, Stiles. And if anything does go wrong, Scott and Isaac will most likely be able to protect you.”

“Most likely?” Stiles had squeaked, but Deaton had already closed the door.

Now, with a sigh, Stiles reaches over to rummage through the lacrosse bag on the passenger seat, double checking he has everything he needs. Mountain ash, mistletoe, rowan, and several types of wolfsbane – enough to incapacitate and more, if needed.

Hopefully it’s not needed.

Stiles can see the wolf standing on the porch as soon as he pulls up, its hulking figure blocking the charred doorway. He - or she - is big, way bigger than any natural wolf has a right to be, but beautiful; it’s almost completely black, marred only by the silvery gray patch on its chest and the tips of its ears, with eyes the same purplish-blue of lightning during a summer storm.

Deaton explained what that color in a werewolf meant in Stiles’ very first lesson, and he reflexively tightens his grip on his bag as he eases out of the Jeep. The second he sets foot on the ground, the wolf’s head snaps in his direction. It bares its teeth in a silent snarl, and Stiles can’t help the shiver that runs through him when he meets the wolf’s gaze. There’s nothing human in those eyes, but there is something - not quite a familiarity, but an awareness that raises goosebumps on his arms.

The wolf tracks Stiles’ movements as he cautiously moves to join Isaac and Scott at the far edge of the clearing.

“Hey,” he greets them quietly, eyeballing the fresh blood on Isaac’s hand. “I take it we haven’t made any progress with Stranger Danger?”

Scott shakes his head. “Not even a little. It nearly took Isaac’s arm the last time he tried to approach.”

Stiles nods and considers his options. The easiest thing would be to sedate it with a mild dose of wolfsbane, but he’d have to get pretty close and he’d prefer to avoid getting his face chewed off today, thanks.

Unfortunately Deaton made clear that this was part and parcel of being an emissary - the magic and the runes and the occasional threat of death or light maiming included. Stiles sighs in resignation as he slips his bag off his shoulder, digging around till he finds the tin marked ‘wolfy Xanax’ in sharpie. He stands back up and hands the bag to Scott.

“Cover me, dude.”

The wolf starts growling Stiles advances, scraping its nails against the wood and baring bloody teeth in warning. Stiles hesitates for a moment, internally debating if it wouldn’t be better to set a mountain ash perimeter around the house and call Deaton for backup, when a gust of wind ruffles through his hair and kicks up leaves, swirling in the direction of the house.

The wolf abruptly stops growling, lifting its head to sniff at the air. Whatever it scents makes its eyes grow brighter, a plaintive whine building as it searches for the source.

Stiles takes advantage of the distraction and moves forward, muscles tensed and ready to jump out of the way in case the wolf lunges. But it doesn’t lunge – doesn’t even start growling again. Just sits there with a slightly dazed look on its face, whining high in its throat.

When Stiles gets within arm’s reach and the wolf hasn’t done anything more threatening than aggressively sniff the air, he pauses, slipping the tin of wolfsbane back into his pocket.

“Stiles, what are you doing?” Scott calls from behind, voice filled with concern.

“I just want to try something – give me a second.”

Slowly, Stiles reaches out a hand. The wolf rears back at the movement, eyes wide but making no move to attack. Stiles resists the urge to flinch and keeps his palm flat, trying to project the calm, collected vibes Deaton has so fruitlessly been trying to teach him.

Tentatively, the wolf leans forward, nostrils flaring as it inches closer. Stiles stays still as the wolf bumps its nose against his palm, rubbing against him until Stiles’ hand is cupping its face. He gently rubs a thumb against the wolf’s cheek and makes soothing noises in the back of his throat, taking the opportunity to look the wolf over.

Up close, it looks more pathetic than terrifying. Stiles can see the leaves and ash matted in his coat, the imprint of ribs against its side, only partially hidden behind the tangled fur.

Stiles crouches down, giving the wolf a searching look. “How long have you been on the run buddy? Where’s your pack?”

The wolf gives a small wag of its tail, but no other sign it can understand him.

Stiles frowns, taking in the wolf’s eyes that show alertness, maybe even intelligence, but no recognition. “You can’t shift back, can you? Do you even know who you are?”

“Hey, you calmed him down – awesome!” Scott calls happily behind him, bounding across the clearing. “Should we take him back to Deaton’s or-“

Before Stiles can shout a warning, he’s knocked on his ass, the wolf caging him with its body and snarling at Scott, who’s frozen mid-step in front of the porch with his eyes comically wide.

Well, comically in any situation where Stiles is less likely to have his face bitten off.

Scott raises his hands in a placating gesture and backs away, grimacing as the growling continues until he’s back at the tree line.

Slowly, the wolf lets its hackles drop and turns back to Stiles, pushing its nose under his hand until he resumes stroking over its back. The wolf makes a pleased noise deep in its chest and pushes in closer to snuffle under Stiles’ ear.

“Uh, good Wolfy, good-,” Stiles takes a second to peek under his tail, “boy. I’m not going to hurt you, just relax and we can - oh god, that’s your tongue, that is definitely your tongue, c'mon man, at least buy me dinner first,” Stiles jokes weakly as the wolf licks at his face.

Stiles can see Scott and Isaac stifling giggles across the clearing and he musters up his best glare - the effect lessened, admittedly, by the 200 pounds of fur perched in his lap.

“Aw, he likes you,” Isaac coos, pulling out his phone to send incriminating photos to the rest of the pack.      

“I will strangle you with your scarf,” Stiles replies calmly, patting the wolf on the head as moves on to his neck.

This close, he can see the dried blood on the wolf’s muzzle and paws, the burs tangled in his fur and scratching at his skin. He can’t tell how long the wolf has been like this, why he’s on his own, but he’s willing to bet it’s been a long, long time.

“Who are you, buddy?” Stiles asks, ruffling his ears. “What happened to you?”

The wolf just whines against his neck and wiggles closer, licking an affectionate stripe up the side of his face.

Read the rest on AO3

[whyareyouyellingatme]

A post I deleted in the end

Here's one of the most personal/long things I've ever posted, and if you hate me you'll probably have a field day laughing at this one. I don't know how long it'll take before I maybe...delete it. I don't want anyone to respond with likes or comments. If you have something to say you can pm me, but I don't enjoy talking about it outside of one ong rant. I rant like this so I can jot it all down for records / evidence I'm not irrational, and then move on.

Here's the TL;DR: Rick Ranquist - 40+ years old, lives in Utah possibly Michael Aigner - mid 20's, probably lives in Bellingham by the pool Cooper Texeira - My age, lives in Seattle and goes to my school

All these men are white sexual offenders that did not get a punishment for their crimes.

When I was seven my 20+ year old babysitter did stuff with me that I did not understand, and I don't properly remember a lot of it. I thought it was a game, but it was actually doing sexual favors for a pedophile. I read a line in "The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe" about a man trying so hard to forget something unpleasant that he eventually succeeds in forgetting it. I tried to do that with the memory, and it sort of worked until I heard his name, Ricky. My brother said, "Remember when Ricky----" and that's all I heard before I started dissociating and everything was like someone was smothering me with a pillow.

His sister called me a liar when I said "your brother does weird stuff with me and plays games I don't understand". I decided if she didn't believe me, nobody would, because she was my neighbor and my friend. She still doesn't know today I was telling the truth.

I got raped when I was 19 by a 23 year old that had been grooming me since I was 16. I tried reporting it to the police and they laughed at me, nearly hanging up on me. I went to the ER, got a cervical exam while a doctor ogled my vagina with awe (because my relatively young genitals excited him, how professional). The taxi driver saw me crying and said "you put him on a list! Get him on a list!" and nope, he didn't get put on any kind of list. That fucked me up for a long time. I was numb for a long time. I just watched non stop television and didn't think. I can remember the exact outfit I put in a brown paper evidence bag, and I can remember the exact outfit I wore for days afterwards. I really changed as a person after that. Being isolated from all your friends and spending 3 years dedicating all your time to a shitty abusive man that made you think everything was your fault. Not fun.

Weirdly enough, a man who's in my family pushed me not to report the rape or try pushing for anything else from the police, because he thought it would traumatize me further. I gave up. I didn't want to see Michael, he made me sick. I was partially relieved I got out of the cycle of abuse, but I held on to a rage for a while . I still feel it if I think too much about it. I get really angry but it helps nothing because what can I do ? I'd imagine scenarios where I got to kill him as revenge.

It looked really cute on the surface! It looked like I was having a good time. But I was having panic attacks every week trying to make him happy, despite the beatings, despite the yelling (bc that's normal in my household so I thought it was normal in relationships) until the day that he went way too far.

I really thought it was my fault and that I deserved it for being stupid or not good enough. I was too focused on a very heavy school schedule and an eating disorder/self harm problem to realize I could do better for myself. Of course all of his friends saw me as a "crazy bitch" as he was beating me, real nice. His family was really racist and he broadcasted all of our arguments to them. His sister threatened to hit me with a wrench, not knowing/caring that her brother was already beating me. All of them just kind of watched whenever I broke down crying in front of them. His dad said "women get like this", I'm not...a woman. Not for someone like you dude.

Michael showed up at my house a couple days after it happened too. He stalked me for a while. I still get freaked out being alone sometimes. I have a knife collection and pepper spray, and even guns, but none of them make me feel as safe as a genuine friend does. I'm easily startled and for a while I had really horrible nightmares and panic attacks in public. It got a little better with time, but I still have really bad days. It's still difficult going anywhere near medical centers or dealing with cervical exams.

(I tried speaking with a nurse about the possibility that I have PTSD from that event, and she brushed me off with a "Women used to get raped all the time and they would have to just deal with it. You should lose some weight." Which started up my eating disorder again...horribly enough, people have been so cruel to me but I still care so much what they think.)

I tried faking confidence and happiness in college. I don't have a supportive healthy family, I just have me and whoever decides to be my friend. I made a friend group and went to parties with them. That was fun until a person I trusted grabbed at me when I was incredibly drunk. He led me to his room where I passed out. I wasn't sober enough to understand what was going on or even walk properly, and he texted people things from my phone saying that I was okay. It was all just kind of stupid honestly.

I woke up the next day in my room, on the floor, feeling kind of gross and even more gross as I try to figure out what happened the night before. He shows up at my work wanting me to serve him ice cream. I go in to report him because he did end up grabbing me without consent.

I lost my friend group. And after describing him grabbing my chest and ass in a disgusting amount of detail to a man that said "I remember being a young man and partying in college" with a cheerful nostalgia, I lost the case too. He didn't get anything. At this point I was kind of used to being treated like a piece of meat, so I was just mad he didn't learn anything. In fact, he has been checking up on me online to find dirt on me and report ME to the school for talking shit. His girlfriend has been doing the same, angry because she thinks he was trying to cheat with me. Cheating is consensual.

People just don't learn sometimes. I'm not a thing. I'm an nb lesbian though, and the guy that tried stuff with me when I was drunk knew that. He thought he could convert me.

I've been going through all of this without therapy, trying to just go to school. I tried telling a counselor about my situation and he said "those are long term problems that the university cannot handle".

Maybe I seem quiet and aloof, maybe I'm annoying to you, maybe you think I'm a liar or something stupid like that. But god damn it, I am a human being. I've been through some gross shit. I'm tired of people touching me and trying to invade my space. I'm tired of creepy ass college professors comparing me to their girlfriends and saying shit like "things aren't going so well with her". It's never a compliment you're just fuckin weird dude.

I'm super disconnected from reality even now (sometimes) because I don't like thinking about any of this. I stayed silent about it for quite a while because of all the people who probably wouldn't believe me. But uhhhh fuck you guys I know who I am.

This is a really personal story, especially very personal to be posting on facebook. It makes me feel super vulnerable, but not as much as having the memories bouncing around in my head nonstop makes me feel. I have a girlfriend now and I'm living in a pretty safe place at the moment. There's a lot of other shit happening in my life, my PTSD dog (one of my only sources of comfort in a bad time) got hit by a car and died. :( You all probs know about that, I just miss her when I think about the past. So I've just been trying to figure out how to help myself, you know?

This post got really fucking long and I don't feel like editing it. If you ever think I'm quiet, it's because I'm tired of explaining myself. I want to be my usual joke-y self but sometimes that feel really fake. I don't like thinking about all of this, but I think someone should know.

I wanted to write this post when I was sure I could finish it without crying. It has been a while since something super bad has happened to me, and that distance between the event and reality really helps muffle the emotional response.

Cheers to the survivors that aren't "good" survivors that react a specific way. Cheers to those of you that aren't comfortable sharing your story because it's really not anybody's business unless you want to say something.

I don't know, I still try and have fun, pretending nothing happened. I hate this crap. I hate the emotional baggage. Wish I could chuck it, but my brain has a different plan.

Like, all of this shit happened on TOP of me living in an extremely abusive home so you can imagine I tried to kill myself.

I'm a human being. Stop treating me like shit. I'm tired of it. I'm also not as mean as I look, I don't bite. I'm here for you as a friend if you need it. I just couldn't sleep tonight because of all this crap.

Please don't react to this I'm just babbling. I don't want to deal with people that have no empathy for my long ass story just because it's long / badly written. I'm just tired. I'm soooooo fucking tired.

Edit: I'm trying to reread this just once, but I can't even do it. Like not because it's hard, I literally just look at the words and they mean nothing. My brain basically put up a firewall against upsetting shit so I lose touch with reality whenever I get near it for too long. It's hard describing dissociation but if you would like to know more u should google it. A weird time. Anyway gn I'm alright I just needed to fucking let it out.

[singingwordwright]

The Sebastian Manifesto v 2.0

I conceived most of this meta during the hiatus between seasons 2a and 2b, and wrote and published it after episode 2x11 once we finally meta Sebastian. However, now that we’ve come to the midway point in 2b and seen a major reveal with Sebastian, I feel like it needs updating. It hasn’t been entirely Jossed yet, not by a long shot, but there’s definitely a few parts where it needs some adjustment. I’m editing some of the existing, but I may miss a few bits here and there. Most of the changes are going to be in the new sections.

Sections 1-3 are what I’ve posted before, sections 4 and 5 are new.

I’m going to start off by saying that I DO NOT SHIP SEBASTIAN AND IZZY. Don’t let the title fool you. I think Izzy is going to play an important role in the Sebastian storyline, but not on a romantic level. Don’t even go there, please.

Most of this meta, you can find in various other posts I’ve made along the way, and particularly scattered through my episode-by-episode recaps from Season 2a onward. What I’m saying here is nothing particularly new, it’s just condensed into this one particular post. Which is a long-ass post. Be sure to buckle up.

I will also point out that I could be entirely long. Part of my goal in posting this is to get it out there so I can play a game of “let’s see what I got right” with myself as the season progresses.

I’m going to put this behind a cut because it’s quite long and contains spoilers from the books that may or may not come to pass in the show. What follows is discussion about what I think they’re going to do with Sebastian in the show, and how vital a role Izzy is going to play in it.

1. The ALDERTREE-IS-SEBASTIAN theory: not quite as defunct (or debunked) as you may assume

I follow a lot of Shadowhunters fans, and thus most spoilers and meta about Shadowhunters crosses my dash sooner or later. If there has been any official confirmation debunking this theory, I haven’t seen it. If it exists, please link it to me, and I will officially rescind this part of my meta and admit I’m wrong.

Nonetheless, a lot of people appear to have moved on from the idea that Aldertree was Sebastian in disguise, since we didn’t get confirmation of it at the end of Season 2a. That’s definitely understandable; the end of 2a would have been the perfect time to reveal that there had been a snake in the Institute’s bosom the entire time.

On the surface, it would appear the connection between Aldertree and Sebastian was weak to begin with. They both have English accents, they both (supposedly) hail from the London Institute, and Aldertree isn’t a nice guy so those of us who knew about Sebastian wanted to make sense of that by assuming he’s the Really Not Nice Guy we all knew was coming down the pike. And on the surface, that’s it. That’s all that links the two of them together. 

Underneath the surface, though, it’s a lot more.

First of all, Aldertree isn’t just a not-nice guy. He’s either terminally stupid, or he’s in league with Valentine actively working on an agenda that doesn’t benefit the Institute.

Note the edit I made there. One aspect of this meta that HAS been somewhat Jossed is the idea that Sebastian is working with Valentine on Valentine’s agenda. Given the end of 2x15 and the sneak peek we’ve seen of 2x16, I think it’s safe to say that he’s not actually allied with Valentine. However, it’s still possible that, as Aldertree, he positioned himself as an ally and colluded with Valentine. His agenda, however, appears to be far different.

Regardless of where you stand on the Sebastian theory, what we see from Aldertree in Season 2a isn’t just a bunch of random bad-guy mustache twirling. In the end, he does actually help Valentine achieve what Valentine is trying to achieve.

And a large part of that takes the shape of an organized campaign to drive wedges between the Lightwood siblings (including Jace,) thereby weakening the power structure in the Institute.

He isolates Jace, first by making him a fugitive (2x01)…

…then by making the other Shadowhunters in the Institute doubt him and finally by driving him out (2x06.)

He isolates Izzy, first by making her choose between Alec’s life and turning Jace over the the Clave (2x03)…

…then by trying to get her addicted to yin fen (2x05.)

When Aldertree attempts to use her yin fen dependence to get her to spy on Clary, Izzy begins isolating herself (2x07) because by that point she’s been forced to betray the trust of someone she cares about twice and she knows no one she cares about is safe.

When Aldertree realizes she’s slipped the hook with regard to the yin fen, he tries simply charming her instead, but it’s too late. 

Jace and Izzy being isolated means Alec is isolated. Still, Aldertree produces a convenient tale of tragic lost Downworlder/Shadowhunter love in order to distract Alec and cut him off from his most powerful ally, a warlock who has successfully opposed and thwarted the Circle more than once. (More on this later.)

But none of this necessarily means Aldertree is furthering Valentine’s agenda for his own purposes, right? He could just be a random bad guy.

Except…no. There’s more to it than that. Because weakening someone by isolating them from their loved ones is a play right out of Valentine’s book. One of his favorite plays, in fact. Our loved ones serve as our conscience, the better angels of our nature. They provide rational thought when we can’t see things clearly. This is why it was so important to cut Jace off from his found family, so that they couldn’t provide the antidote to the poison he kept pouring in Jace’s ear about demon blood and “to love is to destroy” and so forth.

With the Lightwood siblings splintered apart and distracted by their own worries, no one—including the Best Forensic Pathologist in New York--thought to run a DNA test on Jace and Clary to confirm their mutual parentage, or to try to figure out just what sort of demon blood Jace had in him and whether or not Clary had the same. They had no time or opportunity to compare notes and see the way they were being individually manipulated.

There are other ways in which Aldertree served Valentine’s purposes, so much so that it seems obvious to me that Aldertree abetting Valentine in whatever capacity you choose to believe 

How did Aldertree know about Jace’s falcon? (2x04) Look at the confusion on Jace’s face there. I don’t think that’s a story Jace would have willingly confided in just anyone, so how did the Clave’s representative find out?

How did Valentine know about Clary and Alec’s visit to Iris Rouse (2x05 and 2x08?) Unless he has spies on Clary 24/7, the only way he could have learned about that is because Alec and Clary went back to the Institute and made a report about Iris’s warlock-baby mill, and that report found its way to Valentine.

But here’s the kicker:

In 2x09, when Alec asks about Izzy’s whereabouts and expresses his suspicion of Aldertree, says he knows Aldertree is hiding something. Aldertree responds by threatening to make Alec submit to a psych evaluation “after what happened at your brother’s party.”

Aldertree knows what happened at Max’s party (2x08.) This means he also knows Magnus’s counter-spell book was stolen.

Aldertree is Head of the Institute. He has to know which warlock created the Institute’s wards. That would certainly be on record and considering Magnus’s close relationship with one high ranking member of the Institute, Aldertree would have checked Magnus’s records.

Even if we assume Aldertree is too stupid to realize what implications there are for the Institute’s wards in Valentine stealing a book that can undo every spell Magnus has ever cast, Magnus would never be negligent enough not to notify Aldertree that the wards were vulnerable (nor could he possibly be stupid enough not to put it together that they were at risk.)

Aldertree knew about the missing spellbook and HAS TO HAVE KNOWN about the vulnerability to the wards. And yet, what’s his first line in the beginning of 2x10 when Madzie brings down the wards? He blames lax security. He never got another warlock in to plug the security leak.

He left the door standing wide-open for Valentine.

His scene with Alec up on the roof in 2x10 is very obviously a delaying tactic. He brags about being able to hack into the system from there, and then can’t do it. Really?

Then there’s the story he tells Alec about his lost love. Shadowhunters and Downworlders can never be together because Downworlders will always give in to their demonic nature. Golly…that’s just identical to what Valentine keeps telling Jace and Clary, isn’t it? And maybe it’s not an exclusively Valentinian philosophy, but the way he uses it to try to get inside Alec’s head and do a mindfuck to turn him against a powerful ally is, again, straight out of Valentine’s playbook.

(Why doesn’t he just kill Alec? I’ll get to that later.)

Conclusion: Aldertree was abetting Valentine. But does that really mean he’s Sebastian, you may ask?

Well, again, there’s the whole thing about weakening Izzy, Jace, and Alec by driving wedges between them and isolating them from one another. Yes, it’s a trick straight out of Valentine’s playbook, but more importantly, it’s a very intimate trick. It’s the sort of trick you learn by being mentored by someone, or by growing up with an abusive parent who did it to you. Aldertree wasn’t just abetting Valentine, at some point he was close enough to Valentine to truly learn and adopt his philosophies.

2x14 offers us another clue, as well. Sebastian tells Raphael he “always knew” Izzy was getting her vampire venom straight from the source. The wording is odd because at this point, Sebastian has been around for a couple weeks maybe. The wording, however, seems to indicate a knowledge going back much father than that. But if, as Aldertree, he sussed out what Izzy was doing, it would make more sense.

What ties Aldertree and Sebastian together most convincingly, is Izzy.

2. ALDERTREE AND IZZY (an obsession is born)

Aldertree zeroes in on Izzy right from the beginning.

In 2x01 when threatening Izzy and Alec, he goes immediately for the deruning threat, and he looks at Izzy while he’s doing it, knowing that particular threat would carry weight with her. He also keeps a seemingly casual/amused eye on Izzy and Clary’s training session, clearly knowing they’re up to something (more on that later.)

In 2x03, Aldertree makes his first move. He forces Izzy to betray one brother to save the other. And he acts benevolent about it, claims he’s trying to save Jace’s life. He’s driving a wedge between Izzy and Jace while simultaneously attempting to position himself as someone who just wants to help her.

2x05 is where things get really interesting, and I admit this particular point is mostly supposition. I keep wondering: if the Soul Sword’s purpose was so super-secret that Aldertree needed to send an expedition to the Adamant Citadel to get input from the Iron Sisters, how did Valentine know? The obvious answer is that the Soul Sword’s purpose isn’t as secret as we’re led to believe.

If Aldertree is abetting Valentine, especially if he’s convinced Valentine he’s an ally, Valentine quite possibly would have told him what the sword does. Even if Valentine didn’t, whoever it was within the Clave that DOES (and someone has to, or, again, how did Valentine find out) likely would have in order to warn Aldertree about what Valentine might intend.

There are at least two ways Aldertree might have known about the sword. So…why send Izzy to the Iron Sisters?

Well, let’s assume Izzy’s lifelong fascination with and admiration of the Iron Sisters is fairly common knowledge. She grew up in the Institute, and it’s not something she would have had reason to hide. It would be known to the people she grew up around and quite possibly in her personnel records.

If Aldertree wanted a hook in Izzy, he’d have to offer her something she yearned for badly enough that she would accept the yin fen despite the risks. The mission to the Iron Sisters was never about the Soul Sword. It was about Izzy.

He dangles the Iron Sisters mission (by way of letting it drop to Jace that he’s organizing it) to get into her good graces, and possibly to get her to accept the yin fen. Then he uses the yin fen dependency to try to get her to spy for him. What he doesn’t count on is the purity trial at the Adamant Citadel, which makes it clear to Izzy just how much danger she’s in. She gives the yin fen back and he loses his hook in her. We don’t see him in 2x07 and 2x08, but then we get to 2x09, and this is where it really all comes together.

In 2x01 when Izzy is advising Clary, she cites Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. Remember how Aldertree was keeping an eye on that whole thing?

In 2x09, when Izzy comes to see Aldertree and he unsuccessfully asks her out, there’s a very pronounced close-up of a copy of The Art of War on his desk. And later in the episode, when Alec accuses Aldertree of hiding something regarding Izzy, Aldertree is reading the book, and again, there’s a close-up of the cover.

In TV and film, you don’t do a close-up of a prop like that unless it has significance. The producers wanted us to know he was reading the same book Izzy had been advising Clary from. This is a book that advises things like isolating your enemies in order to weaken them. Don’t let them join forces. Try to conquer the city without warfare or siege, subdue enemy forces without fighting.

And, of course, as Izzy points out: to know your enemy you must become your enemy.

Now that philosophy makes Aldertree’s timely anecdote to Alec on the roof in 2x10 about Shadowhunter/Downworlder romance a lot more convenient and suspicious, doesn’t it?

And that’s what leads us to Sebastian.

3. SEBASTIAN AND IZZY (Becoming your “enemy”)

There’s absolutely no reason to believe the Inquisitor, Imogen Herondale, when she says that Aldertree is in Idris facing reprimand. She also said the Soul Sword is in Clave custody, and we know that’s a lie. Those of us who have read the books also know Sebastian must have been the one to take it (one assumes the reason he didn’t destroy it as per the vision Ithuriel gave Clary and Jace is because it wasn’t charged.)

Why would the Inquisitor lie about Aldertree’s whereabouts?

First, because it would be a massive loss of face for the Clave if it were known that their golden boy, the one sent to whip the New York Institute into shape, was a traitor working with Valentine. So if he disappeared with the sword, they would want to cover that up before the Institutes started losing faith in the Clave’s leadership.

Second, the Clave is probably claiming the Soul Sword is secure and in custody because if the Downworld found out it’s in the wind—in the hands of a traitor who probably aided Valentine—the Downworld is going to lose its collective shit even more than it already has following the massacre in the Institute.

So Aldertree/Sebastian is at large with the sword, except he can’t bring himself to stay that way because of what he’s left behind.

Namely, Izzy.

In the books, Sebastian has an incestuous obsession with Clary. But the show has been trying to downplay the incest angle. Maybe that’s because of network censorhip, or maybe it’s because the producers in their wisdom decided it was a disgusting sideplot that needed to be shelved. At any rate, aside from a few hints of lingering feeling, they basically dropped Clace until they could reveal that Jace wasn’t Clary’s brother.

It’s Sebastian, not Jace, who is Clary’s brother. If they bring in that obsession, they’re going to be right smack back in the middle of stuff they’ve been making a concerted effort to omit from the show. I admit, 2x12 has called my theory here into question, since obviously Sebastian DID go there with Clary, at least a little, but mostly they’ve been focused on his interactions with Izzy.

So what I truly believe they’ve done here is transfer Sebastian’s fixation to Izzy. Especially in light of the recent interview where Emeraude remarks something to the effect of things aren’t going to be the way they were in the book, they’ll end up in the same place, but they’ll take a different route to get there.

There’s a REASON our first scenes with Sebastian are between him and Izzy. That’s significant. And look at what those scenes contain.

Look at the parallel here, between this and 2x05 when Aldertree applies Izzy’s first dose of yin fen. While this scene isn’t as blatantly sexualized, there is often something sexual overtone to a grown adult ingesting something from another adult’s hand. Even if there weren’t, the fact that Izzy is once again willingly accepting an unknown substance from someone she has no reason to trust is parallel enough.

But beyond that, look at who Sebastian is portraying himself as being.

He’s a yin fen addict who has bravely kicked the habit, and he has just what she needs to get better. He’s is a great cook who effortlessly takes care of people with delicious food. He’s a child with a troubled relationship with his mother who still manages to be okay.

Sebastian hasn’t just “become” Izzy, he’s become the person Izzy wants to be. Someone Izzy will admire and want to emulate. Someone she’ll be grateful to for rescuing her.

And in the process he’s undoing the damage he did by getting her hooked on yin fen, because look at the glance Izzy and Aldertree share on the roof in 2x10. He feels remorse for that, or at least he understands that he’s harmed and endangered someone he wishes to possess.

Does this mean they’ve transferred most, if not all, of the Clary/Sebastian plot to Izzy? Maybe? I don’t know. But I believe Sebastian’s driving motivation is going to be his obsession with Izzy, rather than with Clary.

Why Izzy? I don’t know.

It could be because she outthinks him in 2x01 in order to advise Clary on how to get around him.

It could be because she somehow managed to slip his yin fen blackmail hook, even at desperate cost to herself, and he admires that strength.

It could be because he homed in on her as the weak link of the Lightwood sibling chain in 2x03 and something about how much she loves her brothers touches him and sparks an obsession.

That last one is probably what’s going to be closest to the way things play out. And it could have very interesting implications for Alec. Because in 2x11, Sebastian reacts evasively (looking away, changing the subject) or violently (burning himself) when Izzy’s love for Alec comes up. I’ll come back to the burning thing in a bit.

Keep in mind, if Aldertree was Sebastian, Alec has thwarted him and stood between him and Izzy. He’s thrown down with Sebastian and challenged Sebastian’s “claim” to Izzy. And there’s no way he will ever win Izzy the way he wants her unless he finds a way to undermine Alec. But he can’t kill Alec, because he’d definitely lose any chance with Izzy (hence the reason Aldertree takes Alec to the roof to get him away from the fighting and keep him busy/distracted, instead of killing him.)

Also, Alec is the leader Sebastian tried and failed to be. Alec effectively ousted Aldertree as Head of the Institute. It very well could be that, just as the show is transferring some or all of Sebastian’s obsession to Izzy instead of Clary, they may be transferring some or all of his obsessive jealousy to Alec instead of Jace.

What this means in terms of the “dark parabatai”/twinning thing, I have no clue. I suspect, given what Dominic Sherwood said in an interview recently about how Jace isn’t going to be catching a break anytime soon, even as far as he’s been told about Season 3, that that storyline is still going to play out pretty much the same.

In the books, iirc, Sebastian is jealous of the fact that Valentine loved Jace more than him even though Sebastian is Valentine’s true son and Jace isn’t. And he’s jealous of the fact that Clary loves Jace and can’t give Sebastian the time of day.

It may be that the show will focus more on the family bonds instead of the romantic bonds. The parallels between Maryse and Jocelyn’s imperfect mothering are an obvious starting point. If that’s the case, if the focus of his jealousy and obsession is familial love rather than whatever it was book-Sebastian was after with Clary, then certain events coming up later this season are going to be particularly tragic.

What will Clary and Jace be doing if they take those storylines away? I really haven’t the vaguest idea. I think what’s most likely is that we may see a hybrid of my theory (where it’s primarily focused on Izzy and Alec) and the book canon that’s focused on Clary/Jace. I honestly have no idea what that would look like; the same story but just more spread out and inclusive of these characters as a whole group, I guess? Mostly I’m just thrilled at the idea of them taking a major storyline like “being the object of the bad guy’s obsession” away from Clary and giving it to Izzy. Because that’s freaking awesome.

4. SO WHAT IS SEBASTIAN’S AGENDA

Given the fact that in s2ep15, Valentine was sincerely unaware of who Sebastian was, and also the preview we’ve seen for s2ep16, I think it’s safe to say that either he hasn’t been working with Valentine, or if he was (especially as Aldertree) he was doing so to further his own agenda.

What is that agenda? Good question.

I think Valentine believed Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern to be either dead or banished to another realm. Remember this moment in 2x11?

In s2ep15, Magnus reveals to us that what the agony rune showed him was not the worst thing that ever happened to him, but the worst thing he ever did. The torment of the agony rune isn’t about sorrow or loss or helplessness, it’s about guilt.

That’s an important distinction.

We know Valentine experimented on his and Jocelyn’s son with demon blood. And we know from Jocelyn in 2x02 that Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern had not just one flower-killing mishap, but a whole series of incidents in which it was made patently obvious that he was partly demonic.

I believe what we saw in 2x11 while Valentine is being tortured is the memory of what he did to Jonathan. Either he was trying to somehow “purify” Jonathan of any excessive demon-nature and thought he had killed him instead, or he decided Jonathan was beyond salvaging and performed a ritual to banish him to a demon realm (likely Edom, which is the joint province of Lilith, whose blood he used in his experiment on Jonathan) and considered him gone forever.

This would explain why Valentine is so invested in Jace. In the books, he deemed Jace too soft-hearted and wrote him off, sending him to be raised by the Lightwoods while he focused all his attention on Jonathan/Sebastian. What we’ve seen on the show, however, is a bit of role-reversal there. I think it’s Sebastian he wrote off, so he could focus his plans on Jace.

Clearly, Sebastian has taken a dim view of all this and is angling for revenge.

I think Sebastian plans to destroy the Shadowhunters (or at least most of the Shadowhunters.) And he’s trying to foment conflict with the Downworld to accomplish it, which is why it was in his interest to abet Valentine’s goals during Season 2a.

In the books, it’s eventually revealed that Sebastian is the (in an older form) Seelie Queen’s lover. We’re already seeing hints of the two of them working toward the same agenda, in the way that the Seelie Queen tries to create a rift between Simon and Clary/Jace, the way she emphasizes “they always choose their own kind” (which could very well be words right out of Sebastian’s own mouth, if he believes Valentine tried to kill or banished him in favor of Jace.)

But let’s look at what Sebastian is doing on that front as well.

2x09: (as Aldertree) Asking Izzy out on a date once he realizes she’s going to a vampire to get her yin fen fix.

2x10: (as Aldertree) He tries to create a divide between Alec and Magnus by telling Alec a tragic tale of tragic Shadowhunter/Downworlder romance-gone-wrong.

2x12: Disregarding Clary’s relationship with Luke to convince her she’s without family, and asking her out on a date, thereby attempting to get between her and Simon.

2x13: Probably being somehow complicit/the mastermind in the whole Kaelie scheme, which was obviously an attempt to start a war between the Shadowhunters and the Downworld

2x14: Taking a discussion of Jace and Maia’s hookup and turning it around to bring Jace’s attention back to Clary (probably knowing that the Seelie Queen would later also try to nudge Jace and Clary toward each other.)

2x14: Interfering in Raphael and Izzy’s relationship to convince Raphael to walk away from Izzy.

2x14: Trying to derail the Downworld Cabinet by setting Luke up for attempting to murder Valentine.

Sebastian has a very clear pattern of trying to divide Shadowhunters from their Downworld loved ones and allies. At first I thought this was because he was working on Valentine’s Nephilim supremacist agenda, but now I think it’s the opposite. I think, like Valentine, he wants a war, but he intends for Downworlders and probably demons to come out on top and to exterminate the Shadowhunters.

And he’s not having an easy time of it. Mostly because of Izzy.

Now, I said earlier that I thought his burning himself was a violent reaction of jealousy toward Izzy’s love for Alec. I wrote that after 2x11, well before 2x15, so I really have to revamp that theory.

Again, look at those pictures of the little boy burning from 2x11. That is what happened the last time Jonathan/Sebastian loved and trusted a Shadowhunter. I think the reason we see him burning himself is because of his attachment to the Shadowhunters he’s infiltrated (particularly Izzy,) because he needs to remind himself of the pain of being betrayed by his father and why he thinks it’s necessary to do what he’s doing.

Do I like this particular plot? I’m not sure, but I see some really big potential pitfalls. Mostly because it potentially positions the Downworlders as aggressors whom the Shadowhunters need to heroically defend themselves against with deadly force, when in fact that exact opposite has been the case. It runs the risk of echoing various white supremacist propaganda that portrays people of color as aggressors against whom white people must defend themselves, and I’m really hoping they won’t go there.

However, after 2x13 we saw that the writers and producers do have some awareness of the metaphor they’re dealing with, and the show has brought two women of color into the writer’s room for Season 3, so it could be that they find a way to sidestep that trap. At least I really hope they will.

5. SO WHERE DOES THAT LEAVE US WITH REGARD TO THE BOOKS? (SERIOUSLY MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD)

The short answer is: I think Season 3 will be the last season of the show. Or at least it will definitely be the last season of the show that follows the books in any significant regard.

In the books, we don’t really see Sebastian depart from Valentine’s agenda until after City of Glass, where he’s killed by Jace, and then resurrected by Lilith at the end of City of Fallen Angels.

But here’s the thing: other than resurrecting Sebastian, City of Fallen Angels doesn’t do much that we really need to see on the show. Jocelyn is dead, so the whole plot with her investigating the demon babies is out of the question. We saw Simon go to a dark place, feeding off a mundane, in 2x15 so that’s done. Other than that, all that happens is the introduction of Maia’s abusive ex, Jordan Kyle (who doesn’t need to be introduced at all, thanks) and a whole lot of Clace angst (which I’d also rather be spared.)

So, again, hearkening back to Emeraude Toubia’s remarks about how the show is going to end up in the same place as the books, but take a different route to get there (and the fact that Dominic Sherwood has stated that Jace isn’t going to catch a break even well into Season 3) I think at the end of Season 2, we’re going to see the show skip past most of City of Fallen Angels and jump right into events lifted largely from City of Lost Souls for 3a and City of Heavenly Fire for 3b.

A while back, there was a bunch of excitement from the production team over some last minute casting for a character in 2x19 and 2x20.

I think that character is going to be Lilith (I also think it’s the role Sarah Hyland is going to play, but I could be wrong there, she could just as easily play the aged-up Seelie Queen or Helen Blackthorn, as other people have suggested.)

I think in 2x19 we’re going to see the history of how Valentine made Sebastian, how Sebastian’s demon blood came from Lilith. And I think in 2x20, we’re going to see Lilith do what we’re told in City of Fallen Angels that she did at the end of City of Glass: save Sebastian after Jace kills him.

But Jace also dies at the end of City of Glass. City of Fallen Angels is all about the fallout from that, but most of it could easily be bypassed and the story wouldn’t suffer one bit. In an interview this week, Dominic Sherwood talked about how at the end of this season, there’s going to be a “heartbreaking rift” between Jace and Alec. Most of us in the know about the books believed that to be Jace’s death breaking their parabatai bond, and that may very well be the case. However, instead of having Lilith go through all the CoFA hoops to create the dark parabatai/twinning, it could easily be that being resurrected at the same time somehow bonds Jace and Sebastian instead, and thus we move right into CoLS. That would make as much sense, storytelling wise, as anything else.

So, that’s where I think this is going. If the show continues beyond Season 3, it will be a show completely removed from book canon, which let’s be real has been a millstone around the show’s neck for a while now. The showrunners will have fulfilled their obligation to book fans to portray the events that are considered iconic from the books, and thereafter they will be free, especially since it’s well-known that they don’t have the film rights to either Tales From Shadowhunter Academy or the Dark Artifices trilogy.

Could be interesting. Could be a disaster. I guess we’ll see.