#and would the vapor clouds be red?

[asphodelflowers]

If Yharnam had modern technology do you think people would vape the Old Blood?

[zriasstuff]

All because i liked a boy

Theodore Nott x reader

Before you scroll: THANK YOU FOR 314 FOLLOWERS RAHHH <<33 (the pi number is perfect) and special shoutout to @babygoddam who ALWAYS likes my shit first, you a real one. Feel absolutely free to send in requests (totally not because im running out of ideas)!!!!

Summary: Theo is dating Pansy, but is also seeing you secretly behind her back. What happens when you get sick of that and present him an ultimatum. Will it be her or you? And what if a unexpected friendship develops from all this?

It’s your last year at hogwarts, so that makes you about 17/18 yo.

Everything about your clandestine meetups behind the quidditch field was morally wrong. As you’re walking up to your meetup spot, you feel the urge to stop yourself and go back to your dorm. You want to, and most importantly should stop making the same mistake again and again. But your lack of self control would be the eventual death of you.

Actually, no. Theodore Nott would be the eventual death of you. He was the reason for your lack of self control.

The freezing January air made it impossible to breathe, your red nose hurting from every drawn breath. Shivers ran through your body, all the way to your head where you were experiencing a first hand brain freeze. How was it possible that this is what your life has come to.

Through the foggy air, you eventually make out a tall and lean figure, approaching you with arms crossed and head down. Death has arrived.

“My bad on suggesting to meet up here in this crappy weather, but my dorm is occupied”, he breathed out while clouds of vapor escaped his mouth.

“What about the library then?”, you suggested. Any place inside would be better than this.

“No”, he decisively rejects your idea while shaking his head.

“Why not”, you ask.

“You know why”, he says, sounding increasingly annoyed.

“I don’t” You do. You know exactly why. You want to hear him say it.

“Don’t do this”

“I really don’t know”

“Stop, I really don't want to do this right now” Theo let out a repressed huff with his head lowered. One of his hands that was in his jacket pocket began ruffling through his hair. Whenever he was uneasy he did that.

“Fine”, you let it go. Truth be told, you were also afraid that you wouldn’t be able to digest what Theo would say. On one side, you knew that this was wrong. But on the other hand, admitting it was wrong meant that you would have to end it, otherwise it would make you guys horrible people.

Not that you weren’t horrible people now, but saying it just made it all the more real. Real is bad. Reality sucks. It was easier to hide in a bubble.

Theo looks you in the eyes again, assessing that this probably wasn’t a great time to do anything. But he didn’t want to make you feel like trash either.

“So how was your day?”, he awkwardly asks.

“We don’t have to do this, don’t pretend you actually care”, you sigh. His attempt was meant well, but it was futile. He could never make you feel fully cared for. And that was alright. You know you don’t deserve it anyway.

“I do care”, he exhales while nailing you with his intense stare.

“For your dirty mistress? How naive do you think i am”

“So you do want to do this right now” You thought you didn’t, but today seemed to be especially hard on you. Perhaps it was the stress from classes, perhaps it was the passive aggressive letter you got from your parents, or perhaps it was Theo barely acknowledging your existence in between classes.

“If not now, when then? I'm getting sick of not talking about it” It was time to face reality and put your fears aside.

“I thought you were okay with this”, he raised his voice confusingly.

“With being your side chick who can’t be seen or associated with you in public? Am I okay with seeing you prance around with Pansy, while I have to meet you out here like this?”

“Hey I'm not the bad guy who is forcing you to do this”

Theodore Nott wasn’t forcing you to do anything. No. He would just call you baby behind closed doors. Buy you flowers. Secretly spend nights with you. Anything a boyfriend would do, just without the emotional attachment.

And Pansy. His girlfriend he actually prances around with. His girlfriend who thinks she means the world to him. This slippery slope with Theodore down to where you were now started approximately four months ago. He had gotten into a really bad fight with her and at a party he started flirting with you. He lied about having broken up with her.

The worst part— you didn’t even find out up until two months later. In those two months he had obviously made up with her and didn’t end it, but he was sneaky. You had to give him credit for having juggled the two of you for that long without either noticing. You guess it helped that you were in Gryffindor. But after two months Theo got tired of being on edge all the time, so he decided to make his relationship with Pansy public again.

Why didn't you end it with him back then? Good question. All you remember is a bunch of unconvincing bullshit from him. But as unconvincing as it was, he gave you a sense of comfort. And although he didn’t make you feel fully cared for, he was still better than your supposed friends. Those two months you lived in the unknown were special, you had to admit. You felt special. But even the brightest spark eventually dies out.

“I know you’re not forcing me, but I'm getting fucking exhausted of this. And I feel terrible about Pansy”

“Why do you even care about her?”

“WHY DON’T YOU?!”, you suddenly burst out. Yes, he chose her over you because he had been together with her before you got together with him. Admittedly, he’s treating her better than you. But you don’t hate her. She actually didn't do anything. And unlike you, she isn't actively hurting you. It was so frustrating to know that you were choosing some guy over the “girls protect girls” vow. All because you couldn’t handle being alone again. Pathetic.

“Do you realize how ridiculous you sound Theo? Saying you like both of us, but in reality you treat both of us like shit.”

“Well what do you want me to do?”, he angrily asked.

“I'm giving you an ultimatum. Either you break up with me and stay with her. Or you tell her and deal with her breaking up with you. If she doesn’t, and if you also don’t, then I will anyway”

Perhaps it sounded a bit too extreme at the moment. You were definitely the last person to talk about morals, but it wasn’t too late yet. In the long run, it would benefit Theo too. A huge weight was finally going to be lifted off of your shoulders.

“Please, you’re not thinking straight”, he pitifully pleads in a last attempt to escape his responsibility and ultimately reality.

“I mean this works just fine. Pansy is happy, I can make you happy, and i promise you won’t feel like a dirty mistress”

A scoff is all you’re able to respond with. “You got until the end of the week, otherwise I will immediately cut off any ties with you”

Are you as important to Theo as he says you are? It’s wrong, but innerly you wish that he would break up with Pansy without telling her. That would be ideal for you. Freaking Theodore Nott, who showed you what kind of person you really were.

The next day, you caught Theo and Pansy making out in the hallways. “Ugh get a room”, you think to yourself. The day after, still no change. And on the day after that, everything was still the same. And as one could imagine, on the fourth day, still nothing.

With Friday approaching, Theo would only have two more days to make his decision according to your ultimatum. Perhaps he thought that you didn’t mean it seriously, but you did. You swore to yourself that if after two days still nothing happened, you’d break up with him. “Break up”, as in quit being fuck buddies, it wasn’t like you were in a real relationship.

Consumed by your own thoughts, you apparently missed McGonagall's announcement. Suddenly half the class was packing their stuff and getting up.

“Hey what’s going on”, you ask a guy sitting in front of you.

“Did you seriously not pay attention?”, he hisses.

“What do you think, smart-ass, since I’m asking you right now?” This was not the time to be lecturing you.

“We got a new seating arrangement, she just read out all the pairs who are going to be sitting next to each other. I think you’re with Pansy”

Shit. You swallow hard at the mention of her name.

“You sure?”, you ask dumbfounded.

“I mean she’s walking up to you right now”, he says shrugging his shoulders, “anyway gotta go”

You hope to fuck that he was wrong. But after turning around frantically, you observe that Pansy was in fact walking up to you. Out of all forty students, of course you would be next to her.

“Heyyy, looks like we’re going to be stuck with each other for a semester. Cute bracelet by the way, where’d you get it?”, she greets you in quite a chipper tone.

“You’re boyfriend actually got it for me after our first time”, is what you would say if you didn’t lie. Instead you reply “thanks, a friend got it for me but I don’t know from where”

“Y’know I actually have a really similar one”, she says as she’s sitting down next to you and pulls up her sleeve, “Theo gave it to me”. It was basically the same bracelet, just in gold instead of silver. So, what were the chances that Theo bought several bracelets in the same shop and just gave them out to whoever he fancied at the moment. Not even the slightest effort.

“How sweet”, you force yourself to say in the happiest tone you can manage.

“So what’s going on in your life?”, she continues the conversation, “I just realized that I barely know anything about you, even though we’ve known each other since year one”

You almost want to say “trust me, you don’t want to know what’s going on in my life”. Instead you say “nothing much, I’ve been thinking about maybe trying out for the quidditch team”

“Oh how cool, I’ve seen you fly in class, you totally should try out. You know during the last game between Slytherin and Gryffindor Blaise did this really funny thing where…”

What Blaise did, you’ll never know because you tuned out. But what you do know now is that Pansy is actually an incredibly nice person. In just five minutes she has shown you support, complimented you and began talking to you like you were her new friend. Perhaps she thought you could be friends. After the lesson ended, you felt almost carefree. You guys barely got any work done, but instead gossiped about anything that came to mind. Time practically passed away in seconds, and you were just hugging Pansy goodbye before going separate ways. Nothing felt weird at all until…

As you’re about to pull away from the hug, you catch Theo staring intensely from the corner of your eye. Was he suspecting something? Truth be told, you could’ve inquired more about his and Pansy’s relationship, but you decided to not be nosy. The less you knew, the better.

Later on, after you spent hours feeling like an empty shell of a human being, you slouch to your dinner table. During the day your thoughts felt like a huge, untieable knot, so you decided to ignore everything. When all classes ended, you immediately hopped into bed, rolling around, slowly rotting. Feeling nothing was better than thinking too much. There was simply too much. There was the question of whether you were a terrible human being, wondering if you should completely rebrand yourself, thinking about what Theo would do and about how it would affect Pansy, and so much more. In the end, nothing would be answered by just thinking about it.

Even while eating dinner, you have to restrain yourself from letting your most inner thoughts wander. Though, Pansy sure added fuel to the fire by smiling at you. Genuinely flashing you the purest, brightest smile. For no reason at all. Just to be nice probably. Instead of smiling back like a normal human being, you almost choke on your water.

This was it. You couldn’t pretend to be unbothered. You had to end it. You hated that option because it meant that Theo could escape from his responsibility, but it also meant that you could redeem yourself. Right? After all, you also carried some of that responsibility.

To contact Theo, you wrote “meet me at astronomy tower, important!” on a small piece of paper and slipped it into his hand after dinner was over. Hopefully no one saw that transaction. Since everyone always pushed another, it was only natural to bump into someone and touch their hand or arm.

Halfway on your way to the tower, you question if all this had been a huge mistake. Would you even have the guts to do what you had set out to do ? Theo could be so goddamn persuasive sometimes.

On your last few steps you lose a bit of balance and barely make it to the balcony, feeling like you would collapse any time soon. It even takes you a second to realize that Theo was already there. Before he turned around you just thought that it was some random guy.

“How were you faster than me”, you huff completely out of breath.

“I have my ways”, he says. “So why’d you want to meet me here”, he asks, seeming disturbingly nonchalant. As if he couldn’t guess the possible reasons.

“I want this to be as quick and painless as possible”, you begin. You gain an eyebrow raise from the otherwise collected looking guy.

“Let’s just officially end this. You and me. We are officially over.”

You were pretty sure that you didn’t sound as confident as you wish you had, but nonetheless you had done it. Officially calling the breaks would be your ticket to a normal life again. Whew did that feel freeing. But this wasn’t fully over yet.

“I thought it was up to me”, Theo sounded agitated now.

“Well i changed my mind”

“That’s not fai-“

“Seriously, Theo, you want to talk about fair ?”

“So what if i told you that I would’ve chosen you over Pansy”, he tells you while throwing his arms around. “You just want to give up like a coward?”, he spits at you, blowing up in anger and disbelief. His widening eyes and clenching jaw told you were enough to convince you that he was full on serious.

Is that what you were doing? Giving up on something genuine? You never thought about it in that way. Sure, your connection to Theo was undeniably strong, but were you ready for actual commitment?

“You don’t get to say that”, you defensively say as you take a step back. He immediately gets in your face again.

With tears forming in your eyes, threatening to spill out, and quivering lips, you try your best to curve your mouth upward and take your last stand.

“I am not giving up. We never had anything to begin with because you were a coward.”

He steps even closer, his nose touching yours. His dead brown eyes looked hauntingly beautiful in the moment. “But don’t you see, I want to give us a try”

“I CAN’T DO THIS THEO”, you yell in his face, not caring that your tears streamed down your face. All that bottled up anger came down to this. “WHAT DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND, THERE IS NO US.” Just as you say that, you frantically tear off his gifted silver bracelet and throw it in his face. “We’re done Theodore” are your last words before storming off.

When you notice him following, you run even faster, yelling “STOP FOLLOWING ME FOR FUCKS SAKE”. Eventually you stop hearing his footsteps, and you allow yourself to break down in an empty corridor. You keep muttering “it’s for the best” as a way of reassurance, but you don’t even know if that’s true anymore.

That night you went to sleep, wanting nothing but to drown out everything. Instead you got a fucking nightmare about the entire events at the astronomy tower. Only, you were watching from the third person point of view this time.

Luckily, as you wake up, you realize that it was a Saturday, so you could be in peace a little longer. Apparently you also woke up pretty late because you were alone in the dorm. Great, your “friends” didn’t even bother pretending to include you. It was always like that. They were nice to your face, but actively excluded you. What was it about you that alienated you from everyone?

*BANG*

HOLY FUCK.

You suddenly jolt up and watch Pansy come through the door. She looked furious and extremely messy. You notice her heavy eye bags and smeared mascara.

“YOU WANT TO TELL ME WHY THE FUCK YOUR BRACELET WAS ON THEOS NIGHTSTAND?!?”, she shouts, probably loud enough for everyone in Gryffindor to hear.

“What are you talking ab-” It was mid sentence when you realize that you in fact threw your bracelet in Theo’s face yesterday and that Pansy recognised it from McGonagall's class.

There was no point in lying. “Pansy please I can explain”, you desperately choke out, feeling a knot in your throat.

“Fuck you. I actually liked you, but i guess you are just another snake”

Before you can actually explain yourself, she already left. All by yourself, you begin to sob. Perhaps your “friends” were right in excluding you. You wouldn’t even want to be friends with yourself.

This mess you were in— what if you never went to that party where you met Theo? But that wasn’t even the most important part. You had to find a way to make it up to Pansy.

Argh this is it…for now ? So if you read the deleted original fic “Baby”, you will recognise the first part, but not the rest. I asked if you wanted a pt.2, but then i realised i could just make all of it into one, longer part. I really really hope you found this if you read “Baby”. And who knows maybe this storyline will continue.

Also thank you for the people who commented, i tagged y’all (except for two i couldn’t find), so you could find this more easily. @onyxwingsandcrowblackdreams @princessofsilverandserpents @pumpkinchee @laur20a23 @ladyblablabla @the-mrs-malik-styles @boomdolle @mmeskywalker

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Tis the Damn Season

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: Based on a request from the lovely @dorothleah, Matt and his childhood best friend have a realization at Christmastime.

warnings: smut adjacent times (it’s just spicy towards the end, nothing graphic), descriptions of family holidays (they’re positive), Christmas specific, swearing

A/n: ahhhhh this one was so difficult to write—I really hope I did the prompt justice. (Also, this is set early on in S1 but let’s just pretend that all the bombing stuff didn’t happen bc that would definitely overshadow Matt’s holidays. Plus Mrs. Cardenas was an Angel so she is still alive and living her best life somewhere outside of this piece because I said so.)

w/c: ~4k

Breathing deeply, you couldn’t help but smile as the bitter cold wind swirled around you. Despite the extreme temperatures, winter in New York was beautiful. Layers of silver clouds drifted through the city, muting the constant stream of artificial light into something less aggressive, more ethereal. The thin layer of snow covering every exposed surface created a gorgeous blank slate of sorts, like an untouched page in a child’s coloring book. Monotone and full of possibilities. It was a sight you missed dearly, so much so that your heart flipped every year when you stepped out of the airport and back into the city you were raised in.

California was beautiful too, of course–not that you’d gotten to see much of it between your 8 years of post-secondary school and 2.5 years of residency so far. Even summer breaks had been spent studying or interning, rather than visiting the gorgeous beaches or tourist attractions across the state. When you found yourself swamped with work and longing for a break, you never dreamed of California, though. Only of New York.

Which is why the winter holidays were so important to you now. This was the only opportunity you had to visit family, to visit Matt. Most years, you spent about a week with your family for Christmas and spent a few wonderful evenings with your beloved childhood-best-friend-turned-charitable-defense-attorney, but this year was unique.

After encouraging your parents to take a much needed vacation, you’d mentioned to Matt that you were struggling to find a hotel to house you for the holidays. Charming and protective man that he was, he was appalled that you hadn’t asked to stay with him instead–arguing passionately with you until you agreed to stay at his loft for a couple days rather than spend the holidays alone.

Which led you on the snow-laced journey from the baggage claim to Matt’s front door, which you studied apprehensively, hand frozen in a fist that hadn’t yet knocked. The fluttering in your stomach was inevitable, your nerves always acted up when you saw Matt, but it was especially intense when your mind was occupied with the knowledge that you’d be surrounded by him and his things for a weekend.

Blowing out a breath, you let your eyes fall shut as you knocked rapidly on the door, the percussive sound echoing the pulsing in your ears. Footsteps padded down the hallway towards you, halting at the door as it slowly creaked open.

“Hi Matty,” Your voice was quiet, your cheeks blooming with warmth as he grinned at you. His beautiful smile hadn’t changed at all, still revealing the wit and mischief of the 14 year old you’d met all those years ago at St. George College Prep.

His signature red glasses twinkled with the reflection of the flickering hallway lights. “Long time, no see, sweetheart.”

As the familiar joke vaporized your anxiety, you dove into his open arms with a squeal. He was as warm and muscular as ever, his arms tightening around you as if waiting for you to dissolve. You weren’t sure how long you stood there, basking in the comfort of his embrace and letting it melt a year of stress away.

While you were enjoying the first hug you’d received in too long, Matt remained almost rigid beneath your touch–his brain counting every second and wondering where the line would need to be drawn. He could have stayed in your grasp all day, but that wasn’t what “friends” did, right? Inhaling deeply, he pulled away from you.

“C’mon, sweet girl, let’s get you inside and warmed up.” Taking your hand, Matt guided you down the hallway and into his apartment, the sight of which made you gasp.

Strings of multicolored lights were strung around the perimeter, wrapped around every available surface in a festive tangle. A small, but otherwise impressive, fir tree stood against the massive paneled windows, smattered with glittering ornaments and candy canes.

The air suddenly felt forced out of your lungs, your breath staggering like a newborn foal as you surveyed every inch of the apartment. When your parents had booked their holiday cruise, you’d been slightly devastated–which wasn’t fair of you, since you’d encouraged them to get away for the month, but that didn’t stop your heart from aching at the thought of the traditions you’d miss. Christmas was your parents’ favorite holiday, and they went all out each year–decorating the house with gorgeous poinsettias and tinsel, buying the largest tree they could find at the local farm, stringing lights around the entire house. The festive beauty of your family home was one of your favorite sights, and you weren’t ready for the absence of decor.

But the absence never came, because you had Matt, the most amazing best friend a girl could ask for. The man who knew you inside out, and had anticipated your reaction to skipping a family Christmas, taking it upon himself to make up for their departure.

Biting your lips as tears threatened to fall, you let Matt enfold you in another hug, a drop of moisture rolling down your cheek when his lips pressed against your forehead.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

“You did all this for me? Matt, I–” Withdrawing from the shelter of his arms, you strode around the apartment, running your fingers along the wires Matt had painstakingly decked his apartment with.

“Before you get too grateful, you should know that Foggy helped.” Matt laughed, rocking from foot to foot as he waited for you to take it all in.

Giggling at his glowing blush, you nodded, “Well, you both did an amazing job. Ugh, I could kiss you right now!”

The words slipped out of your mouth without a thought, but they froze Matt in place.

Your relationship with him was unlike any of the other friendships he held. There was a flicker of something deeper–a tense heat simmering underneath every touch, a magnetism that simultaneously drew you together and forced you apart.

After knowing you for 15 years, Matt could read you as if you were composed of braille. Every inhale, every pulse of your heart, every flutter of arousal from you crafted a story of love that he was terrified of losing. Neither of you could handle the stress of a long distance relationship. So, he held you close while keeping you at arm’s length.

Or, at least, he had. The urge to abandon all logic and act on his wildest desires was growing stronger by the minute. Treading over to where you stood, admiring the Christmas tree, Matt encircled your waist with his arms, tilting his nose against your temple.

“I missed you.” He murmured against your cheek.

“I missed you too, handsome. So much.” You leaned backwards into Matt’s firm chest, tangling your fingers with his.

Swaying slightly as he held you, Matt stayed silent, allowing you to soak up every ounce of joy from each tiny detail of the holiday ambiance he had painstakingly put together. Sure, it had been a chore, but it was absolutely worth it for the skip of your heart beat, the stutter of your breath as you held back happy tears. He’d do anything to give you the Christmas you deserved, and that included enlisting Foggy as his eyes for a week of decorating.

Because he was human, and his patience could only be strained so much, he eventually pressed a kiss to your head and spun you to face him. “Ok, I think it’s about time for me to pull my responsible host card and remind you that you need to eat.”

Laughing at his smirk, you nodded eagerly. “You’re right, I’m starving.”

“Really? I had no idea.” Matt gasped in feigned surprise, sparking another round of giggles from you.

“Shut up, asshole. I was admiring your hard work! Isn’t that what you wanted me to do?” You shoved at Matt’s chest fondly.

“You’re right, I apologize,” Matt chuckled with you, rocking backwards after your playful push. “Have a taste for anything in particular?”

“Anywhere you want to take me, Matty.” You grinned.

_____________________________________________________________________

Nearly tripping over a crack in the sidewalk as you laughed brightly, you were launched into another set of giggles as Matt caught you by the elbow. Comfortably full after dining at Matt’s new favorite Thai place, the two of you ambled around the city catching up on the last year.

“Christ, you’re going to break something.” Matt sighed, but he was beaming at you. “That would honestly serve you right, though, after laughing at my pain.”

“I’m sorry Matty, but the idea of you wearing one of those bikini body shirts is amazing. Foggy is a pranking genius!” You crooned, jealous that you hadn’t been there to witness the practical joke.

“This from the woman who tricked me ruthlessly every April Fool’s Day.” Matt shook his head, biting back a grin as his mind flooded with memories from your shared childhood.

“Oh please, toothpaste oreos and salted coffee is child’s play, Murdock.” You jested, letting your joined arms grow taut as you leaned towards an enticing display in the window of a store you were passing.

“Hmm, well I’ll continue waiting for an apology then.” Matt turned his nose into the air teasingly.

“Should I buy you another Christmas gift to make up for the torture I put you through?” Without waiting for a response, you entered the doorway of the quiet little shop you’d been admiring, drawing Matt up the steps after you.

Carefully studying the rows of vibrantly colored trinkets, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace as you wandered the store. You let your mind wander as you ran your fingers along the rack of knit sweaters you were ogling. Somewhere in the rush to look through the myriad of options, you’d dropped Matt’s hand. Swiveling your head over your shoulder, your heart jumped when you didn’t see Matt behind you.

Before you had a chance to panic, a calloused hand tangled with yours, tucking you back into your friend’s warm side.

“God, Matty, I thought I lost you!”

“Don’t fret, sweetheart, I’ll always find you.” Matt murmured, his voice steady with truth as he kissed your temple.

Leaning into his touch, your heart twirled at the sentiment, emotions welling up in your throat. Squeezing Matt’s hand, you coughed around the lump in your esophagus, eyes once again roaming the row of sweaters. “Did you want to get out of here? You said we were meeting your friends tonight, right?”

“Yes,” Matt answered, a bit hastily given that he was still trying to decipher your reaction to his words. “Uh, yah, we aren’t too far from Josie’s.”

“Oh my god, you didn’t tell me we’re meeting at Josie’s! Fuck, I’m glad the place hasn’t been condemned after all these years.”

“Foggy and I have done our due diligence. The health department must have our pictures taped over dart boards by now.”

“My two favorite menaces to society,” You laughed. “I’m embarrassed to admit that you may have to lead me there. My navigation of the city is a bit rusty this year.”

“You’ve been away too long.” Matt tutted in disapproval. “Far too long.”

You grew silent beside him, your fingers twitching in his hold. “I know, Matty.”

“Sorry I didn’t mean—“ He started but you interrupted.

“Oh, I know you didn’t. And I miss you too.” Matt withheld from turning to you in surprise before you corrected your statement. “I mean, I miss you and my family and the city, you know? I love California, it’s just not the same.”

Cursing yourself for fumbling over your words instead of just admitting to Matt how much you wanted to stay here with him, you tugged at your lower lip with your teeth to keep from rambling any further. Twin blooms of heat pricked across your cheeks, your eyes falling shut with regret and longing.

Matt bumped your hip with his. “Hey, don’t go quiet on me. We still have more catching up to do.”

The corner of your mouth twitched into a small smile. “Oh yah?”

“Of course! I haven’t even told you about the kitchen fire that Foggy set at Landman and Zach in the spring.”

Snorting in disbelief, you shook your head. “How on earth did you two not get fired?”

“He blamed it on a partner.” Matt grinned, making you chuckle.

The walk to Josie’s was short and filled with pleasant conversation, despite the brief hiccup. When you finally reached the familiar dive bar, you inhaled deeply, smiling at the sour odor of stale beer and tobacco.

Inside, the sticky floors and dim lighting immediately transported you back to the first time Matt brought you here, begging you to come with him to the “Jewel of Hell’s Kitchen”. Sure, it was more cubic zirconia than a diamond in the rough, but you understood why Matt loved it. The atmosphere was unmistakably familiar. No bells and whistles, just cheap beer and good company.

“This way,” Matt lead you further into the establishment, waving at Foggy and a gorgeous blonde woman who were seated near the windows.

Foggy leapt up to tackle you in a hug as soon as you were within hugging distance, crushing your lungs before you could laugh. “God, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Way to rub it in, bud.” Matt scoffed, smirking when his business partner gave an exaggerated eye roll.

“You’ve seriously got to teach me how to keep him in line.” Foggy sighed, scowling at the dark-haired man.

“You think I know how to do that?” You chuckled incredulously. “I’m not sure that’s possible without divine intervention.”

“C’mon, you’re practically the Matt-tamer.” Foggy cajoled, spinning around to face the table. “Karen, Matt-tamer. Matt-tamer, meet our lovely receptionist, Karen Page.”

Laughing as Foggy gestures towards the seated woman, you gave her your real name.

Karen smiled brightly, reaching her hand out for you to shake.

“You know, I could’ve introduced her myself. She is my friend, after all.” Matt pouted and you grinned, placing a hand on his arm.

“We all know you would have done a great job introducing me, Matty.” You snorted, rolling your eyes to Foggy.

“Um, are we not going to comment on the fact that I’m apparently not allowed to be friends with you?” Foggy asked, taking his seat beside Karen again.

“I didn’t say that!” Matt argued, sliding into the other side of the booth.

As Matt and Foggy bickered, you and Karen exchanged a knowing smile before you headed to the bar.

Waving as you spotted Josie’s stony face, you couldn’t help but smile when she rounded the bar to give you a one-armed hug. “Hey, kid. We’ve missed ya around here.”

“So I’ve heard,” You chuckled. “Can I get a couple of beers?”

“Your boyfriend letting you pay for the drinks?” Josie shook her head in distaste.

Almost dropping the two beers she’d passed you, your mouth dropped open in surprise. “Oh, uh…”

“C’mon, don’t tell me he hasn’t made a move yet. Poor kid acts like ya hung the moon.”

Chuckling awkwardly, you shrugged. “We’re just friends, Josie.”

“Yah, yah. Heard that one before.” Josie sighed, shooing you back to the table.

Trying to refocus after her comment, you plastered a smile back on your face and took your seat next to Matt, handing him his beer.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” He leaned against you and your skin burned. You could practically hear Josie raising her eyebrows from across the bar.

“You ok?” Matt asked, tilting his head towards you. “Did Josie snap at you or something?”

“You have to cut her some slack, she’s working hard to keep this place afloat.” Foggy frowned in sympathy.

“Oh no, nothing like that, she just caught me off guard is all.” You reassured, willing your body to relax into Matt’s hold.

“How so?” Karen asked with genuine curiosity.

“Oh, er, she asked me if…” Looking at Matt hesitantly, you let the words tumble out before you could fib. “She was wondering if Matt and I were dating.”

“What did you say?” Matt murmured.

“I told her the truth. Though, I wonder if I should’ve said we were, that was always easier.” You sighed, shifting in your seat uncomfortably.

“Always?” Karen asked, eyebrows shooting skyward.

“When we were kids, people always assumed we were dating. Eventually, it was easier to say yes than explain anything.” Matt explained with a shrug.

Foggy smiled, “Ah, so this has nothing to do with the fact that you both act like you’re dating for a weekend every year?”

You and Matt immediately grew defensive, spitting out two remarks at the same time.

“We do not—“

“Are you kidding me—“

But the realization of how close you were sitting to Matt made you pause. The man in question seemed to have the same epiphany because you both jumped apart with a huff.

Foggy and Karen exchanged a glance before nodding. Clapping his hands together, Foggy changed the subject.

“So…how’s California treating our favorite medical student?”

————————————-

Sitting on the worn leather couch in Matt’s living room, you blinked sleepily, the bright LED string lights coming back into focus as you reopened your eyes. You’d hoped that the beautifully decorated tree would draw you out of your thought spiral, but it was only fueling your rapid fire thoughts. Fidgeting with the fabric of the cushion you were sitting on, you couldn’t help but think of Foggy and Josie’s parallel accusations.

You and Matt were close, that was true, but you didn’t “act like you were dating”…did you? Sure, you were pretty much constantly touching each other, and you had nicknames for each other, but that was all platonic.

Or was that just what you’d told yourself? To let yourself sign off on the emotional turmoil you experienced every year when you had to leave the man that you loved.

Fuck. You loved Matt.

“What are you thinking about?” Matt’s voice startled you, your body jumping a few inches off the couch. Handing you the mug of hot chocolate he’d prepared for you, Matt took a seat next to you, his brow folding in concern.

“Oh, uh, nothing, Matty.” You lied unconvincingly.

With a snort, Matt shuffled closer, placing a hand on your knee. “You’re a terrible liar, sweetheart. What’s on your mind?”

“Did it…bother you? What Foggy said, about us?” You asked timidly, biting your lip when his hand stilled on your leg.

“Did it bother you?” He parrots, his voice uncharacteristically small.

Laughing despite the thick tension clouding around you, you shoved your shoulder against his. “I asked you first, Murdock.”

“Fair enough.” Matt chuckled nervously, exhaling quickly before answering, “No. It didn’t bother me.”

“Permission to ask you a follow up question?” It was risky to ask for further clarification before answering yourself, but you needed to know.

“That seems like cheating, but I’ll allow it.” Matt jested, his worry poorly concealed behind his teasing tone.

“Why didn’t it bother you?”

For an intense moment, your soft question was met with icy silence. Then, he responded with a warmth you’d never heard from him. “Because I’ve known exactly what I’ve wanted with you since we met all those years ago. And, consciously or not, I decided to enjoy my time with you in that way.”

Mouth falling agape, you pondered the answer for a moment. Had you been seeking that with him too? Is that why you were more than ok with the state of your relationship every year?

Interpreting your failure to speak as unease, Matt apologized. “I’m sorry. If I’d known that you were uncomfortable about it, I wouldn’t have–”

“I never said I wasn’t ok with it, Matty.” Your voice was deep with want, your eyes focused on every twitch of his facial muscles as he processed your response. “I’ve wanted more with you for years, I just thought I was better at hiding it than I apparently was.”

Matt chuckled, resting his forehead against yours. “We’re idiots, aren’t we?”

Matt’s breath heated your face, his lips felt too far away despite them hovering over your nose. Leaning into him, you crossed the invisible boundary you’d been dancing around for over a decade. “That depends on what we do next.”

Matt’s sharp inhale sparked a shiver down your spine. Settling one hand on your waist, the other cupped your chin gently. “Do I have permission to kiss you?”

“You fucking better, Murdock.” You murmured, hands wrapping around his nape as he closed the distance between your mouths.

As his plush lips met yours, the air was forced from your lungs. The evening ambiance of the city was drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears. A jolt of adrenaline, that was heavily threaded with pure need shocked your system, drawing a soft loan from your vocal chords as his tongue prodded your bottom lip.

“Matty, please,” You whimpered as he withdrew his mouth from yours.

“What do you want, sweetheart? Use your words for me.” Matt’s smug tone prompted another moan from you.

“Want you. Please.”

“Anything for you, love.” Hiking you into his arms, Matt wove his lips between yours again as he carried you to the bedroom.

————————————

Scrunching your nose against the chill that overtook you as your foot slipped out from underneath the blankets, you retracted your leg, settling back into the cocoon of sheets and muscular arms with a sigh. Unfortunately, the abrupt temperature change had shocked your consciousness out of slumber, and now you had to face the consequences of whatever had happened last night.

Your bare back was pressed against Matt’s warm chest, each inhale of his lungs jostling you with a comforting rhythmic motion. His hands were joined atop your stomach, his thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. Whining softly, you pressed backwards into his hold, his arms tightening instinctively as you did so.

“Morning.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.” The feeling of his lips dancing across the thin skin on your head was pleasant, until your brain reminded you just how fleeting this moment would be.

“Morning.” You responded, your tone revealing your nerves.

“Hey, I can hear you working yourself up. Talk to me. Are you ok?” Matt’s brow furrowed, his blank eyes darting around you as he sat up to study you closely.

“I’m ok, Matty. Just…thinking about us, is all.” You shrugged, eyes falling closed as he placed kisses down your neck.

Hesitating before planting a kiss on your collar bone, his voice quieted. “Do you regret it?”

“Absolutely not.” Using two fingers to turn his face to you, you drew him in for a deep kiss. “God, you make me so happy, Matt. But I still have a few months left in my residency.”

“I know, sweetheart.” The clear disappointment in Matt’s voice almost shattered your composure.

“I wish things were different.” You sighed, resting your foreheads together.

“Don’t say that. You are getting a fantastic education so you can become the best pediatrician the world has ever seen. We can enjoy our time together now, that’s enough for me.” Matt’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but his optimism was contagious.

“And in April?” Matt’s hand came to cup your cheek.

“I’ll be here, waiting for you, as long as you want me.”

“I’ll always want you, Matt Murdock.” You promised, threading your fingers into his hair as he kissed you with a smile.

[leviathanspain]

if we died tonight, i would die yours

bill weasley x reader

synopsis: the war gives you clarity

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

perhaps you shouldn’t have come. 

but how were you to tell one of the most important figures in the wizarding world that you couldn’t help him fight off lord voldemort?

you, like many others from the order, had been aware of the news that he was back. you had paid closer attention to the newspapers, after having avoided them for years. but now, it seemed like many of the people you knew were in danger, so you knew you had to return home.

but there was more carnage than you had expected. more and more of your fellow classmates and friends were dying, and you were helpless.

you were caught under a crumbling building, having been chased by a group of death eaters just moments before, it seemed like death desired you.

you screamed, feeling a powerful blast hit you, tossing you aside to some crumbled stone.

black spotted your vision, and you blinked, trying to get some sense of what was happening. you blinked again, and realized that the horrifying mask of a death eater was before you. the tip of their wand was pointed at you as well, ready to cast a spell.

you bit back a scream and blinked, head throbbing with the pressure. your vision was still spotty, but what you could see had cleared up.

you looked up at them, eyes narrowed, “do it.” you egged them on, and pushed yourself more into the wand tip, “kill me!” you screamed, anguish from your defeat powered your voice

the death eater didn’t even flinch at your words. they remained with their wand pointing right at you.

if this was how you died, then you would go down fighting.

“expelliarmus!” a shout brought you out of your final thoughts. someone had saved you, from a swift murder. you opened your eyes, and realized that he had saved you.

he struck out, wand pointing at the attacker, but from what you could see, the death eater had vaporized, refusing to fight.

“coward!” you screamed, watching as the black vapor disappeared.

you couldn’t see much as more black spots clouded your vision. all you could see before you lost consciousness was a red shock of hair.

there had been many things bill had wanted to say. he had tried to speak, to his family, to the doctors and nurses surrounding you. but his speech had faltered, and he had reserved himself to a chair in the corner.

it wasn’t until his brother was found dead that bill had left your bedside. he wouldn’t admit that he hesitated to leave, but he knew you wouldn’t forgive him if he didn’t.

it had been weeks and you still hadn’t woken up. most of the funerals for the fallen had passed, many had returned to a life of slight normalcy. but bill didn’t.

his hair had grown longer than he’s ever had it, curls just brushing his shoulders. he had grown a beard as well, the idea of shaving hadn’t occurred at all.

his family had begged him to sleep, to eat and to come back to society. they had reiterated what the doctors had said, that nothing in the magical world could bring you back.

they had said that you were nothing, an empty vessel being kept on ice.

but bill had refused that, and rejected any attempts to change his mind.

his family couldn’t know why he was doing this, or else they’d see him as nothing but a monster.

he hadn’t stopped loving you, after all this time he didn’t want to leave you, even in life, and even in death.

there was nothing he felt more than regret. he had known that after that night, you would never forgive him. you swore you wouldn’t forgive him for a lot of things, for he was a good man, and you made sure he stayed it.

yet that night, he had broken his promises.

“if you don’t want me here, just say it!” you snapped, throwing the pillow right at him, “i’ve tried, time and time again to get you to fucking talk to me. like we used to, how couples are supposed to do! yet all you do, is stay in this shitty apartment and mope, all day long!” it was word vomit. all your anger and frustration had finally hit a point with bill, and you couldn’t stop it.

“those scars didn’t change who you are. you’re beautiful, william, you’ve always been and you always will be. i-“

“i dont.” his words rattled over yours and you stopped, blinking with surprise that he had even said anything.

“what?” you blinked, anger subsiding to confusion.

“i don’t want you here.” he admitted, circling back to your words.

you could smell the flowers first. you had smelled all of the flowers, as if the room had been filled to the brim with them.

and it was.

you opened your eyes and feasted upon the bright colors and arrangements of flowers, all circled around you.

groggily, you rubbed your eyes and tried to sit up, but there was a dull ache that stopped you. wincing, you clutched your side and remained on the bed. you sighed, trying to remember the last thing that happened.

and it hit you the moment you saw him.

there he was, practically being swallowed up by the sofa. he was sleeping, strands of his long ginger hair splayed out on his forehead.

he was beautiful.

“bill?” you called out, and watched as he responded to his name, waking up quickly.

you watched as your ex boyfriend rushed over to your bedside, leaning down to grab your hand and check your forehead.

you didn’t say anything as he fussed, calling for the doctor. you stayed silent, watching him move all about the room until he stopped, having noticed your gaze.

“what?” the question seemed playful, almost as if he expected you to be happy, but seeing him made you feel everything but.

“why are you here?” there was a furrow in your brows, and hurt in your voice. it hadn’t even been two months since he kicked you out, since you begged on your knees for him to take you back.

you swore on everything you had, your dignity, your self respect, that you’d never return to him.

yet here he was, shoving himself back into your life.

“wha-“ he scoffed, as if shocked by your question, “i saved you. im the one who fought off the death eater, im the one who brought you here- i-“ his voice was beginning to rise, and you blinked, being taken back to the many many arguments you’ve had.

“stop.” you held up a hand, and bill didn’t say anything. you sighed, collecting your words until you spoke.

“after what you said, why are you here? why did you save me?” you looked up at him, and gave him a challenging glare.

bill faltered, as if he too remembered his behavior towards you just a few months ago.

you couldn’t breathe between the utter panic you felt, and the uncontrollable sobs that shook your body. you had begged him not to make you go, that you loved him and wanted nothing more than to take care of him.

he had thrown you out, along with throwing many things at you.

“bill!” you begged, nails clawing at his door.

ever since his accident, he had so much anger, so much frustration that he took out on you.

“get out! get the hell out and never come back!” he howled, words rumbling the space around you.

you sniffled, hands clutching anxiously at the hospital blankets around you. bill didn’t say anything, not even after you brought up his last words.

he stayed silent, and you nodded, “that’s what i thought.” you cleared your throat, but you were hoarse. bill stared at the floor, and when he looked up, you realized he was crying.

you turned away, realizing that his tears would be your weakness, “just leave. hmm? there’s nothing here for you.” you assured.

bill began to walk slowly, inching towards the door, he only stopped momentarily, “you were dying, in my arms. and i thought-“

you looked at him expectantly and his eyes looked to the floor. “that i would die yours?” you finished for him, “that stopped the moment you broke my heart.”

and as bill weasley walked out, you realized you had lied.

you would always be his, but he was destructive, and you would only burn at his side.

[jestnoir]

Fallout Fan Theory: The Cloud

So I have a theory as to what the cloud is in Dead Money. I've been researching others opinions and everyone I've seen as been summed up "created by some experiment" or "chemical weapons". But I don't think that's the case. I think it's something already existent.

Let's start off with the characteristics of the cloud.

Corrosive

Blood red

Seen as a vapor, but also as residue

Toxic to inhale

Symptoms from coming in contact including: trouble breathing, burns, death

Smells like copper/metallic

This sounds to me like bromine. Bromine is a naturally occurring halogen with the atomic number 35 on the periodic table. It is highly corrosive and at room temperature, is a liquid that gives off blood red fumes. Due to the location of the Sierra Madre, we can assume that it is well above room temperature which explains why we may see more cloud as a gas than liquid, and explains why we can find residue to scrape up. Now why would it be there in the first place?

Common uses of bromine include:

Water treatment

HVAC refrigerant

Fire retardants

Preservatives

Well drilling and precious metal mining

Which could explain why it was first discovered in ventilation, as it is one of the most common refrigerants in HVAC. Now you may argue that it was still part of an experiment, but we never find evidence that they made the chemical. At the Z-43 Innovative Toxins Plant in the Old World Blues DLC, they're studying chemicals toxic to humans. Perhaps one of the studies was to see what prolonged exposure to bromine would do.

Another thing mentioned about the cloud, is how it seems to have preserved the area. Bromine is used as a food preservative. BVO or Brominated Vegetable Oil is used to preserve processed foods and beverages, though due to bromines toxic nature, is banned from use in several countries.

I replayed Dead Money and Old World Blues to get this information because I do not trust Fandom wiki. I also spent way too long researching bromine. I'd like to clarify that I am by no means saying I'm necessarily correct. I'd also like to clarify that I am writing this at 4 am. So I'm sorry if this is a jumbled mess. I am sleep deprived. Do with this post what you will.

[raribella]

Epiphany | CL16

Summary: Based on Epiphany by Taylor Swift (if you want to listen while reading it would add a nice gloom). Charles Leclerc's girlfriend works for the Ferrari F1 Team and faces the other end of having a driver boyfriend in motorsport after he gets in a horrific crash.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Genre: angst, fluff in the end if you squint.

Involves: A car accident, descriptions of injury, descriptions of a panic attack, crying, fainting, mentions of medical urgency and care, motorsport terms, hospital, blood.

Word count: 2,2k

This is a work of fiction. Any celebrity mentioned does not behave as written and I do not know them in real life. I am writing this story solely for my own entertainment and the marvel or comfort of any readers.

As this is placed in the Formula 1 universe, this does not refer to any real race, event or tragedy, nor do I want any incidents to happen in real life.

Her laugh echoed in his head along with the loud, piercing "beep" coming from his ears, every race y/n would knock on his helmet, asking for him to keep it safe. The team hadn't locked the Hans device to his helmet before the race, and his neck went way forward with the collision - but it wasn't the worst thing caused by it. The crimson F1-75 was slammed against the wall, the front wing was absolutely scrunched and missing some scattered pieces along the track. It was a red flag. The whole paddock went silent. His thigh was making him want to grunt in pain, but he couldn't make himself turn on his radio mic and voice what had happened, his vision was a bit blurry and he didn't want to make the injury real by saying it out loud.

Y/n felt paralyzed. Her whole body felt cold on the inside and it felt like her throat was slowly parting. She looked slowly at some engineers at the Ferrari pit wall and Binotto was already looking at her, half apologetically, half giving her permission to leave her work. Being a strategic engineer for the Ferrari team while dating their main driver felt like a dream until about a minute ago. While running rapidly in the track limits, she didn't realize what she was doing until some volunteers and the medical team stopped her, not far from the car. Her legs were now hot and her feet burning a little, she was panting, the huffs of air causing tiny vapor clouds to leave her mouth.

"Ma'am, please calm down, will you be the one accompanying him to the hospital?" Y/n listened to the question, her brain took some time to put the words together coherently, and she couldn't really answer anything right now. "I- I... I don't know, I need to see him," there it was, the ripping throat. It kind of burned. Her voice was heavy and breaking. "please."

An old lady was on his left, wearing the same red cross printed under the neon vest. She seemed a little more emphatic and put her arm around the distressed girl to take her closer. It wasn't right, what she was doing. But there was too much panic in her eyes for her to be able to proceed whithout seeing Charles.

Y/n was still a couple feet away from the car when the lady stopped her. The team was preparing to take the driver out of his seat via airlift, he had passed out. She frowned a little. Her eyes kept traveling fast through the whole scene; some people were already taking tiny pieces from the track, the medical car was stopped close by, already opened, the front wing was scrunched against the wall, and... his legs were accommodated by the front wing, there was too much of the car into the wall, what had happened? Her gaze flew over in his direction again, and, there was a vivid red by his thighs, staining the suit. Her breath started to feel and sound too fast, and that one old lady was already prompting her arms out in order to distance her again. Y/n turned to that first man from before "Si- Sir, I think he's bleeding out" Her eyes were completely wide, paralyzation hitting her again as she was basically being pushed to the side of the medical car. While the man lingered a firm gaze with her for a while, she tried to plea with a look. She couldn't cause any more fuss or delay Charles from getting the needed attention. The reality was suddenly hitting her too loudly, everyone was still there, everything was still expectantly quiet, attentive eyes, curious mouths, and a bunch of cameras filled the paddock. There was a whole Grand Prix taking place, this was her job as well, no place no scream or cry, even though she desperately needed to.

After that, everything seemed to go by in some sort of haze. Her mouth agape in a slight "o" while the driver - boyfriend - was taken out and put in a rescue board, everything happening too slowly inside her head. Y/n bit her whole lower lip in an attempt to keep tears at bay. It took a while to notice the man inside the medical car signaling with his hand for her to enter. After blinking her eyes strongly and shaking her head, in an attempt to clear both her thoughts and her vision of the whole scene going by, she went inside.

Though she was relieved she could be with Charles at that moment, by his side while he got medical attention, y/n thought she was internally falling down at the side of the man laid down, slowly breathing in and out, while a limited, few-people team was taking emergency care of him. His thigh was, indeed, bleeding, since there was a piece of the car that cut his skin in a deep flesh wound after being creased from the inside. One young lady in the car was setting some IV up but had her attention on the way y/n held Charles' hand through her safety latex gloves - med school did not ever cover being apathetic to the expression of fear in someone's face like that; the raw feeling of the woman on the other side of the car, making her reflect on how was the couple's life.

"Doc, I think he... How can we avoid more blood loss? I'm afraid he could crash out." She tried to say it calmly, in a low voice - if the woman couldn't possibly avoid for y/n to hear the team handling the trauma, she wanted to at least keep her from being startled. Y/n looked to her right, the man who was avoiding her to come closer before was in fact the doctor operating most of the damage control they could before getting to the hospital. Her eyes kept going wide, she looked from the man to the injury and avoided it turning her gaze to the door, she sniffed, hoping they could arrive soon.

Charles' situation was not bad after all, the surroundings after the crash, the dust, the unconsciousness, and the blood might have scared everyone along with the memory and the knowledge of how crashes can be dangerous in the fastest modality of motorsport. He needed a CT scan on account of the fainting, and after having his thigh cleansed and stitched, he was in a private room with his left leg up and a cervical collar, with the promise that Binotto would arrive as soon as possible after the race.

Y/n's scare, however, was barely minimized; although she had the news that all the procedures went fine and Charles himself was not further harmed, she had yet to get to see him awake. With only 20 minutes of her own body shutting down into some sleep after she was sent with him to a room, she dreamt of seeing his eyes, his smile, or even listening to his voice, though only in a bare grunt, thirsty for water - that, and only that, would give her the glimpse of relief she needed to end that day, to compensate, make sense of everything she saw, from the car starting to fail on a tiny screen to an unconscious injured boyfriend being carried around.

She was warned about the pain-meds Charles had taken before, and the scary IV was still there by his side, but still, y/n couldn't take her body away from the hospital bed, watching him closely, drawing every detail in her mind. She had decided to get away from the phone as soon as the important information was sent to those who mattered, desperately needing to get away from the drama.

Minutes after, when her chin was rested on the bed and her eyes were starting to give up on the promise of being there when he woke up, needing to surrender in rest after the agitated day, y/n felt a hand caressing her hair ever so slightly. Energy jolted back to her veins and she looked up quickly to find his semi-open eyes, that blue and green mixture barely visible yet and a weak smile forming on his lips. She giggled, reaching some sort of high before actually getting up and helping Charles to a sip of water.

"Sorry for the scare, little one" it came a little raspy, but she couldn't help letting out a huge sigh, and while her body relaxed, a natural "I love you" left her lips without any supervision. "What are you feeling?" she was worried about making him think or talk too much and had the knowledge that he needed to rest, but he was there, and she just couldn't help herself. "I'm... well, good, thinking of the circumstances, thinking a lot about what this means to the championship, though... It was an ugly crash and I got a DNF-" He stopped when seeing her expression, it seemed all involuntary, but she was frowning and lightly shaking her head "Okay, no, I'm sorry we're not gonna- we won't talk about the accident." He had fallen used to be very technical in conversations, mainly from interviews after races, but he knew y/n wasn't being technical and was probably overstressed to have witnessed the crash. He wasn't feeling all good about it himself, he got scared, but it was his job - to be there taking the high-speed risk.

"I asked Pierre to bring your favorite blanket," She said, chuckling through her nose a little. "the blankets here suck, and I thought you'd like it when you woke up..." She sighed again, it would probably not be the last time, she needed to let the fear out of her system and she was also too relieved for him to be there. "He's coming with Binotto after the race, but we'll need it back at home, so I need you to get up and going, okay?" They both smiled with the optimistic plea.

Y/n took a sip of water herself, before getting him some more. Processing the shock and the fear and the tears were no good, and now that they were subsiding, it left room for her mind to go back to the workplace and bring a little anxiety. She should be analyzing if there was something wrong with the car if it was a mistake or mainly if someone else had hit him, but she knew the team was making a good job at that. Charles reached his hand to her leg when he noticed it was bouncing. "You know, the painkillers are working fine, but having this beau in front of me is probably making it all even better." He stated in a foolish way of getting her in the moment again.

She laughed soundly. Thank God. Y/n placed both hands over his, caressing it a bit. "You're on morphine, amore. But thanks for the generous compliment. I probably look a mess..." Another sigh, they were both smiling now, exchanging glances.

They still probably had a while before everyone arrived, and Charles probably needed to sleep, but he refused to waste this moment with y/n, he refused not to show her that he was here and he was fine. He would hopefully be with her for a long time still; 3 summers was already feeling like so little when weighed out with how much they have lived together. Some would say that it took a scare in life for you to realize you need to take some things a step further, and, though he was basically on drugs right now, the ferrari driver wouldn't deny giving your future some thought.

"You scared me so bad... what would I do without you," she vented, at last getting rid of the final bad thoughts, clueless to the ones on his mind until the last bit, when they seemed to have gotten in sync. "I would not be alright, you know, I can't imagine a life without you." Charles shook any decisions off, sticking to the simple for now. "When I get out of here we're gonna do everything, we're gonna go for a walk, see the stars, and I'm gonna hold your hand... like this. We'll go to the little market you like, and buy something silly. I'll get you pain au chocolat from that little shop down there, and we could sit on the benches outside while we watch the fountain... people going by... and I'm gonna kiss you like I kissed you on our birthday."

She smiled, relaxed. At that moment y/n wanted to daydream with him for the rest of the day. "And where are you going to get the time to do all that, stronzo?" Another round of chuckles filled the room at the sound of his loud "I will!". "Yeah, but you need to rest, okay?" she offered, and he was about to insist for a while, but the girl beat him to it "I'll be right here, trust me I'll not leave your side. They would have to drag me away from your bed like in the movies." With that, and another wave of medicine effects hitting him, Charles relaxed offering her a last smile before closing his eyes again, and right there some sort of epiphany hit y/n about the essential meaning of it all. Him, being there, and the love they shared and the fun they had sharing jobs in the same universe. Just the sense of relief she needed before dozing off again, even if only for another twenty minutes, before everyone else arrived.

[reddeaddamnation]

Imagine dating Garreth Weasley and you both get detention

"I can't believe this." Professor Weasley paced around the transfiguration classroom as you and Garreth sat motionless on one of the desks in complete silence. Garreth had the marvelous idea for a new potion that could increase the drinker's...endurance and you decided to help him if not for results, for laughs. You yourself had suggested that devious idea to...why not drink such a potion and spend the rest of the day and night in the room of requirements. Potions was your one and only class for the day anyway.

You yourself had brought the ingredients he asked you to bring from prof. Sharp's office and all was going well, you were giggling at your cauldron mischievously and whispering to each other...until the cauldron started shaking and bubbling uncontrollably. You looked at each other nervously and froze when you heard the potions professor clear his throat behind you.

"What in Merlin's name are you two brewing back here?" He asked, eyeing you suspiciously. At this point the cauldron was ready to explode. "We, uh..." Garreth started. "We were just..." you tried to think of the best solution to not make this awkward in front of him and the class who were all staring at this point.

Your heart stopped beating when you noticed Sharp leaning over the cauldron. "Professor, no!" But it was too late. The cauldron exploded in a wave of purple vapor and covered the man in its contents. You and Garreth sucked in a breath, afraid of what the aftermath would be. When the purple cloud cleared from him, you noticed that the potion had made his hair a poisonous shade of blue and his face - that which rather resembled a horse. He tried his best to not explode in a fit of rage and only hissed threateningly "Go to professor Weasley's office. Now." Even his voice had become more squeaky. The rest of the class tried to laugh quietly, but the noises were shut down as soon as the man looked them all one by one, as if daring them to laugh.

Honestly, as ridiculous as it seemed, you were relieved the potion went wrong. How awkward would it be if the class found out its intention. So you sighed in relief, happy you got the lesser evil. Garreth's aunt wasn't so happy tho. She had almost lost it when you two walked in.

"Seven years in Hogwarts and you haven't matured one bit!" She yelled. "What will it take for you to realize your recklessness won't be tolerated outside of Hogwarts?! How many detentions will it take?! What do you have to say for yourself?"

You bowed your head low in apology "I'm so sorry, professor. We didn't intend..." but she cut you off. "Oh, I'm not talking to you, dear." You and Garreth both looked at her, puzzled "I know my nephew dragged you into this mess and you went along because you're too kind to him." Garreth opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out from it, as he was too surprised. "Wha-" you questioned. "Garreth, shame on you for risking this brilliant young person's academic future for a moment of fun in class."

"But..."

"What was the purpose of this potion?" She asked. You both blushed and looked at each other, Garreth seemingly more red than you, as his freckles had become very much more noticeable. "It was just an assignment gone wrong." He explained. "Don't lie to me. If it was an assignment, Y/N would not be sneaking into professor Sharp's office behind his back."

"It was my idea, professor, I swear. Garreth shouldn't get detention because of me." You evaded the question, bowing your head again. "Look at this, Garreth. They are even ready to take the blame for you and you treat them like this?"

Garreth was taken aback again, thousands of questions in his eyes, but not knowing where to even begin to defend himself. "But, auntie..." he was cut off. "Don't 'auntie' me, Garreth. You will stay here and think about what you did." With a wave of her wand, she conjured a large, thick book in front of him and a parchment paper with a quill "You will study the potion ingredients you used and write down exactly why and how your potion went wrong so it doesn't happen again in the future. Then you will write the correct way to brew it. Understood?"

"And what about me, professor?" You asked. "You will enjoy a trip to Honeydukes, because this must have been a terrible experience for you, dear." You tried your best not to laugh from the surprise and the even more confused expression on Garreth's face. "Thank you, professor. It won't happen again." You stood up from your seat with a smile. "You better bring me something from Honeydukes on your way back..." Garreth whispered. "It better not happen again. I know you mean well, but you shouldn't allow yourself to be fetched into such shenanigans."

"But it was Y/N's idea..." Garreth whined quietly.

[pankowperfection]

Double Trouble

Summary: You attend a frat party and fall victim to the charm of your best friends, JJ and Rafe

Warnings: smut, mentions of drug use, drinking, drunk sex, threesome, oral (male & fem receiving), two guys/one girl, spanking, praise kink, 18+

A/N: This one goes out to @pankhoeforlife who posted the above video and made me feral

This was the last place you wanted to be, jammed into a frat house with hundreds of bodies crammed inside. The music was so loud you couldn't even think, bass thumping in your chest and making your ears ring. It was a little hard to see, all the lights turned off except for the laser lights dancing back and forth across the patchy drywall and tiled floor, a fog machine in one corner dispensing a light cloud of vapor throughout the space. Finally you spotted your friend JJ who had invited you, standing by his friend Rafe as they laughed and sipped from their red solo cups.

"Y/n! You made it!" The crowd parts slightly around the boys as you make your way to them, JJ pulling you into a bone crushing hug. "Alright alright J, can't breathe." He lets you go and gives you his best million dollar smile, dimples on his cheeks adorably on display making it hard for you to look away. "Ahem, what about me?" Rafe pulls you out of your trance, sexy smirk settling over his features as he holds his arms open for you. "Hi Rafferty, glad to see you two aren't off in some room with a random girl already." They share a look that goes unnoticed by you, plan already set before JJ even invited you to come to their party.

The pair had wanted you for so long, but somehow you hadn't noticed, thinking that it was only you had fantasized about them taking you in every way they could want. You had no idea that they talked about it regularly when you weren't around, trying to come up with ways to show you just how easily they could make you belong to them. Last week while smoking together, JJ had finally seen the light and suggested inviting you to a party knowing that enough tequila would legitimately make your clothes fall off. "She'll never go for it JJ, you know she hates frat parties." Rafe took another drag off the joint before passing it back to JJ. "Nah man trust me, if we invite her and promise to do something she wants like karaoke night she will come." Whether it was the weed or not, they had convinced themselves it could work, JJ texting you that very night telling you to clear your plans for Friday.

Now here you were in front of them, ripped jeans showing off your ass and long legs perfectly. The sequin crop top you had chosen to wear stood out against the shade of your skin, light catching just right on the crystals and drawing attention to your breasts. Several frat boys had already tried to hit on you, immediately scurrying away once they saw you talking to JJ and Rafe. "Time to do shots?" JJ suggests, setting his empty cup down on the railing behind him. "Alright, but you better have good tequila hidden somewhere." "That's our girl," Rafe chuckles, him leading the way to the kitchen with JJ trailing close behind you. Grabbing the bottle from the top cabinet the three of you head outside, trying to get some fresh air and away from the crowd.

You'd lost track of time, each shot making your head swim a little more. Your body was burning, too hot from the alcohol but also something else. You couldn't put your finger on what was different, but tonight Rafe and JJ seemed to be paying extra attention to you. One or both of them was in constant contact with your body; touching your shoulder, a hand placed on your lower back, a muscular arm slung around your middle. The look in both their eyes was almost hungry, something you hadn't seen before and you weren't sure if you were imagining it or not. "Okay boys, I've had enough. You're gonna have to carry me upstairs to bed." They both laughed at your joke, sharing another look that said they had you just where they wanted you. "You wanna go chill in our room sweetheart?" JJ had turned on the charm, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and starting to steer you back inside. "Yeah sounds good. Bring some snacks." Rafe chuckled and stopped in the cramped kitchen to grab some chips and a box of pizza, following behind up the stairs.

After sharing some pizza you flopped onto JJ's bed, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply. The ache between your thighs had been growing steadily all evening, the extra attention from Rafe and JJ more than your body could handle. You almost laughed out loud at how easily they had gotten you flustered, wondering what it would be like for your fantasy to become reality. "'M a little hot. Do you guys mind if I take off some clothes?" They both just stared as you peeled off your shirt, revealing your bare breasts underneath. Next you stood up and peeled your skin tight jeans down your legs, looking up at the pair of men as you stood back to full height. Empowered by the liquid courage you walked slowly over to them, stopping to bend over with one hand on each of their thighs. "You know what? There's something I've been wanting to do." Before having time to overthink it you settled onto JJ's lap, capturing his lips in a heated kiss.

He groaned into your mouth and your pussy clenched around nothing, wanting to hear him moan again and again. As his tongue slid into your mouth your hand found Rafe's zipper, stroking his thick length through his khaki shorts. "Fuck y/n, you gonna be a little slut for us?" You break away from JJ breathless, smiling down at him before turning to Rafe. "Yes Rafe, that is exactly what I'm going to do. Want you both to use me however you want, please." With that you wrapped your free hand around JJ's cock, pumping them both in tandem as their shorts began to swell. Rafe's kiss was rougher, tongues and teeth clashing as he kissed you with all his might. Somehow you ended up sandwiched between them, JJ kissing and sucking down your neck to your shoulder before biting down hard. Your moan spurred them both on, two hard cocks pressing into your body making you desperate to get them naked.

Somehow on the same wavelength JJ backed away, dragging his shirt up and off before his shorts followed suit. "Lay down baby girl," he instructed, helping you climb off of Rafe before laying down in the center of the mattress. "God, look at you. So perfect and all ours, isn't that right?" His fingers trailed over your skin leaving goosebumps behind, body on edge as he inched closer to your sex. "Yes J, all yours. Both of you." He slides his hand over your pussy once, enough to send pleasure coursing through you and wanting more. "Good girl. Now why don't you turn over on your hands and knees? Want to taste you while you suck Rafe's cock." You obeyed immediately, Rafe climbing onto the bed in front of you totally naked. The sight of his naked form was enough to make you drool, abs and deep v lines leading right to the prize; one of the prettiest cocks you've ever seen. "God Rafe - how have you been hiding that thing? Can't wait to taste you."

His eyes threatened to roll to the back of his head at hearing such dirty words pour from his best friends mouth, warm breath tickling his sensitive flesh. "Think you can take it?" he teases, rubbing the weeping tip of his cock over your lips as your tongue darts out to taste him. You nod your head in agreement, opening wide and letting him slide in at his own pace. He eases each inch in slowly, trying so hard not to blow his load just at the first feeling of your warm mouth wrapped around him. "Shit y/n, sweetheart, feels like heaven." As you set a rhythm sliding up and down his cock, tongue massaging the underside of his shaft, you feel the bed dip behind you as JJ kneels behind your ass. Both of his hands glide up your thighs, widening your legs slightly before his fingers tease through your folds. "So wet baby, bet you taste so good." To punctuate his words he leans in, licking a slow stripe from your entrance to your clit. You can't help the moan that escapes you, his sinful tongue already bringing you closer to your high. The vibrations from your moan are too much for Rafe to handle, his cock twitches in your mouth before spilling warm cum. You eagerly swallow every drop, opening up to show him your tongue is clean. "That's our girl," he coos, urging JJ to stop so you can turn over onto your back.

JJ reluctantly gives Rafe his position, coming to sit by your side as his fingers find your nipples, rolling them until they are stiff and aching for more attention. "Fuck, please J." As Rafe's tongue slides over your clit, JJ sucks a nipple into his mouth. You convulse from the double pleasure, almost falling apart from such simple touches. Rafe forces your thighs apart, holding them open as he makes out with your pussy, tongue rolling your clit just right. "Shit, don't stop. I'm gonna cum." "That's it y/n, give it to us," JJ coos into your ear, leaning down to kiss you passionately as he lightly twists your nipples. Rafe plunges two fingers inside your soaking entrance and you lose it, back arching off the bed as you cum harder than ever in your life. They both continue to kiss over your skin, waiting for you to come back down to earth. When you finally come to you give them a shy smile, their lustful gazes meeting yours.

"Aw J, you're the only one who hasn't cum yet. Do you want to fuck me?" His cocky grin is back, knowing you'd end up underneath him eventually. "I thought you'd never ask. Back on your hands and knees sweetheart, now." He spanks your ass quickly, not enough to cause real pain but enough to snap you into action. As soon as you're in position you feel JJ sliding his cock through your folds, gathering wetness before lining up. "Hang on tight baby," he murmurs before slamming inside. The sheer size of him makes you feel like you're splitting in half, broken moans falling from your lips at the overwhelming fullness. "Fuck y/n, so tight. Gonna make me cum too fast." His hands grip your hips tightly, Rafe perched in front of you now and jerking his cock back to life. JJ pounds into you mercilessly, surely leaving you sore for tomorrow. He's hitting so deep from this angle, stroking your g spot with each thrust as the sound of skin on skin fills the room. "Give it to me J, fill me up." His body can't resist, length twitching inside you before you feel the warmth of his release. He collapses onto to the bed beside you, truly spent.

"My turn?" Rafe is back to full size now, standing beside the bed and waiting for your answer. "Yes Rafe, please. Need to feel you inside me." JJ watches on as Rafe flips you over onto your back, wanting to have full control to fuck you at his pace. Rather than tease he lines up quickly, the opposite of JJ however he pushes in slowly, wanting you to feel each inch disappear. "God you're both so big. Not gonna be able to walk tomorrow." They both smirk at your compliment, egos swelling even more as Rafe gets to work. He starts off with slow and deep thrusts, each push and pull of his body pulling you closer and closer to the edge again. You feel the bed shift by your head and JJ has scooted closer, grabbing your hands and holding them down as he watches Rafe fuck you. Before you can process what is happening your legs are over Rafe's shoulders, his hands pressing down into the mattress as he uses all his force to ram into you. "Oh fuck, feels so good." you moan out, each meeting of your pelvises hitting your clit just right. JJ easily holds both your wrists with one hand, the other trailing down your body to rub your clit. In seconds you cum again, body shaking violently as you ride through the waves of pleasure. Rafe can't resist the way you're squeezing him, burying his face in your neck before painting your walls white. He rolls off you in a daze, all three of you lying naked on the bed as your breathing returns to normal.

Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist

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[kitashousewife]

text me

an: i luv luv shoyo he is so sweet and special. i thought he would be perf for this!

pairings: timeskip!hinata x fem!reader

warnings: none, fluff fluff fluff!!

-

the cloud of vapor that swirls from hinata's lips causes him to shudder. for the first night since high school, he stands at the bus stop in the middle of winter.

the sky paints a beautiful picture above him with vivid streaks of pink and orange. those that pass by offer him a friendly smile or nod, and the sun sets with a warm goodbye.

if he didn't know any better, tonight almost feels hopeful.

hinata can't help but smile. really, today couldn't have been worse. not only did his car not start this morning, but he lost his wallet as well. he missed almost every serve at practice, and he's pretty sure he rolled his ankle at some point. the cherry on top was when every teammate of his left, leaving him stranded at the gym.

which is where he finds himself now, standing at the bus stop with nothing but the keys to his apartment. he chuckles to himself as he pictures his wallet, resting in the middle of his kitchen island, where it always is.

a habit he can't seem to break.

thankfully public transit is free, or he would really be stuck. he fixes the beanie on his head, one that he found at the very bottom of his gym bag, and checks his phone. it's friday night, which means the start of a small break for MSBY before their next trip. hinata grins once more, remembering his plans for the night. a quick shower, grabbing something to eat, before heading to bokuto's for some movies and hopefully, drinks.

the hiss of breaks grabs his attention, pulling him away from the group chat on his screen. he steps on, finding a spot quickly, and lets out a sigh of relief at the warmth. his cheeks turn pink, nose a tad rosy, but he feels at ease.

when the bus pulls away from the stop, he feels a bit more relaxed. he's already mapped his route home, only six more stops to go. his fingers come up to run his hands through his hair, completely forgetting about the hat. it slips off, slowly falling to the bus floor. hinata's fingers reach to grab it, but he's met with something much warmer.

"oh-"

"sorry-"

he looks up and meets your eyes, and can't help the gasp that leaves his lips. how he didn't notice you before, he's not sure. you're breathtaking.

at this rate, he's never fixing his car. not if it means he can see you again.

"here," you gesture the hat towards him, and he accepts.

"thanks. y'know, i forgot i was wearing it," hinata smirks. "i just don't wear hats very often."

"you're welcome. i know the feeling."

a silence falls over the two of you. with only the isle between you, but it feels like yards away. you were dying for an opportunity to talk with him since he walked on the bus. his bright smile, soft red hair, and cheery attitude were almost magnetic.

"so," you clear your throat. he looks in your direction with his eyebrows raised. "do you take the bus often? i don't think i've seen you on before."

his arm reaches up to scratch the back of his head. "almost never, actually. you see, my car wouldn't turn on this morning, and i didn't have time to fix it today. i was able to get a ride this morning, but i was left on my own tonight," he shakes his head with an airy laugh. "but i don't mind. i used to ride it a lot in high school."

you hum. he points to you.

"how about you?"

"oh!" you suddenly feel nervous with his warm brown eyes on you. "the bus stops right in front of my work, so i just take it in every day. much easier than driving through downtown during rush hour."

"right!" hinata turns his full body towards you in excitement. "i absolutely hate when our coach schedules practice for those times-oh, my name is hinata shoyo by the way," he reaches his hand out, and you share your name while you shake. "my teammates never seem to care though. i just get so impatient,"

"tell me about it," you sigh. months of trying to navigate the stresses of the parking lot come to mind. "you mentioned teammates, right?"

"yep!" he beams. you could melt on the spot. "i play volleyball, um, professionally," his words trail off at the end with a polite, less enthusiastic smile.

this is the part where hinata usually falters. the conversation goes one of two ways after this; either they perk up at the sound, suddenly interested in the word professional, or they roll their eyes. no matter how he delivers it, it's never received in the way that he hopes.

"wait, for MSBY right?"

his ears perk up. "yes! how-"

"i've seen you before. there's a billboard right outside my office."

he nods, almost a little embarrassed. he really hopes that it's at least a good photo.

he only has a couple stops left, and he really doesn't want to blow this. you're the most beautiful girl he's ever seen, and he is positive that this isn't by chance.

"w-well, i could get you tickets if you would like. i mean, if you're into that sort of thing,"

you smile. "i would love that! i've actually always wanted to go to a game,"

"what! now you have to go," he laughs, a real laugh and you can't help but feel warm inside. you can't seem to remember the stresses of the week, not with him beside you. "here, if you wouldn't mind."

he hands you his phone, contacts already opened and ready for your information. you fill it out quickly, sending yourself a message before handing it back to him.

"we're actually headed to tokyo next week, so our next home game won't be for a bit. but, i promise i will let you know when i find out!"

"you're sweet."

hinata blushes. his mouth opens to speak, but he's cut off by the hiss of the bus breaks once again.

"well, this is me," you stand up, grabbing your things.

his stomach flips.

"mind if i join you?"

you giggle. "to walk off the bus? is this even your stop?"

no, it's not.

"why not?"

you think for a second before nodding. he gives you a toothy grin. the two of you thank the bus driver before heading off, one right after the other. hinata hits the pavement with a sigh.

"it was good to meet you tonight," he says your name with a smile.

"you as well hinata. got any fun plans for the evening?"

"i was going to see some of my teammates. how about you?"

"oh my gosh," you stretch, looking up at the light dancing of stars. "order take out, watch a show, go to bed late," you shake your head. "nothing too exciting."

the two of you stand in silence once again. hinata kicks at a rock on the sidewalk, and you pull at a thread on your jacket.

"hey-"

"yeah i-"

the two of you look at each other with shy smiles and quick laughs.

"i have a few days off until we head to tokyo. would you want to get some dinner with me before then?"

"i would like that," you eye him as he starts to turn on his heels.

"okay, then it's a date!"

"see you soon, hinata. text me!" you shout with a giggle and he turns around to give you a wink.

"you can count on it!"

[seat-safety-switch]

In the wild, a lot of prey animals will disguise themselves from predators. This camouflage is accomplished using an adaptation that scientists refer to as "camouflage." By doing this, it is hoped, predators will just walk on past, and the hidden prey animal can continue its life of eating vegetables and being terrified of loud noises in peace.

Art imitates life, and so the humble automobile often also hides itself from those who would do it harm. Just who is the natural predator of cars? It turns out that, like for so many other inhabitants of Earth, it's us. Many cars don't get a natural death, rotting to nothingness in a cornfield somewhere as Virgil Exner intended, and instead are crashed into other cars (accidentally or deliberately,) or crushed into a fine paste in order to be recycled into washing machines and bicycles.

You might think that this is absurd. I can look out my window right now, you say, and my car is right there, obvious as can be. Maybe you even have a crazy bright paint colour for it, like red, or industrial grey. This is the vehicle's camouflage, and inside it are all the problems and miseries that make a car what it truly is: the source of your inevitable torment.

If you were to extinguish all the problems of a car in one Four Loko-fuelled driveway thrash session, it would simply cease to be, vaporizing into a small dust cloud and leaving behind a coupon good for fifteen percent off a Toyota product. Even a new car (do they still make those?) has a perfect ecosystem of minor faults that will one day torture a would-be mechanic into considering moving into the forest and hunting men for sport.

Finding out the actual fault, its source, and its solution takes a trained eye. Faults are our prey, and they will hide anywhere they can fit: inside a wiring harness, motor winding, slightly pinched coolant hose, or even microcode. If you persist, however, you will get to devour the feeling of having fixed a problem on your car. And then you'll get to drive it, causing more faults to lodge inside the body for protection. It's only natural.

[wingedcat13]

Synovus: Villains Never Retire (4)

[And the end of Villains Never Retire - this one took much longer to finish, and it's a bit longer than the other segments at 11,334 words. Warnings for death, and rather more descriptions of violence than have thus far been typical. As always, catch up on what's come before from my pincushion post, and find this chapter on Ao3 here!]

How do you keep a clairvoyant from knowing that you are coming for them?

The short answer: you don’t.

The long answer is that it is, technically, possible. However, masking your movements from a clairvoyant is dependent on what type of clairvoyant they are.

Do they read actions, or intentions? If actions, work through someone else or manipulate the environment. Do not decide on a course of action until one conveniently presents itself. A spur of the moment blitz. If intentions, hire multiple actors. One of them will slip through the myriad warnings eventually. (Personally you think this method is a waste of assassins)

Do they only read the short term, or can they predict further into the future as well? If the short term only, poisons over time work best. If long term, be sure to act both kind and hostile in equal measure, until the method of their death is confused.

Is their ability only clairvoyance of the future, or can they read the past as well? If they can, you can never speak of your intentions aloud. Hide your correspondence in code, and send an assassin.

Of course, this all assumes you have time and assassins. You, personally, have neither.

But you do have something else: connections.

—-

When you recognize Athena and Menace in the broadcast, you want nothing more than to tear out of your lair and into the night like the wrath of hell let loose.

But there are several flaws in that plan, including that it is currently daylight, and that doing so would certainly get more people killed than you intend. Specifically people you care about, so that’s out.

Instead, you make a few phone calls.

“Optix.” You were still staring at your phone as the broadcast continued, promising an hour of execution. “Are you the reason I’m seeing this?”

You still weren’t sure what, exactly, Optix was - but it went by ‘it’ and had given its name, and was inherently jacked into any electronic cloud you had ever encountered. You didn’t know if it was a person, a program, or a genuine Artificial Intelligence, but you did know it could be helpful when it chose to be.

A thumbs-up emoji appeared in your messages.

“I owe you.”

A ‘no’ emoji, the red circle with its diagonal line.

“Do you have a location?”

Another ‘no’ emoji.

“Noted.”

The broadcast ended, you swept your phone back into your pocket.

“Boss,” that was Doll, looking very pale. “This is-“

“A trap? A problem? A truly blindingly idiotic move by a pack of misguided muppets I’m about to return to the scrap pile? Yes. Yes it is.”

The shadows are still writing around you, but they are drawing closer to your skin. You managed not to vaporize anything this time.

“Your eyes are glowing.” Doll notes uncertainly.

Glowing? Hm. That’s a bad sign. Normally it’s the shadows that appear there first.

Of course, the shadows come to hand when you are furious, when the anger is hot and choking. They rise when you are defensive, murky and obscuring. But this emotion - you are not certain you can call it anger, anymore, that somehow feels too weak - is cold at its core. Not the freezing, biting cold of fear, but the frost wind that steals warmth and cuts like knives.

And that emotion, whatever it is, is what calls the light.

“I am in control.” You inform Doll flatly. “Gather the others, make travel preparations. I have calls to make.”

Doll nods, bolting out of the room. You know it isn’t to get away from you so much as it is to get to work doing something, to feel as though he can help.

You replay the broadcast, short as it is.

By the time you’ve finished watching it a second time, you have a plethora of messages - other villains, sending you the clip. You don’t bother responding.

Instead, you flip to the number pad. Four digits into the number you intend to dial, it rings, from the same source.

You answer. A frustrated voice spits out a coordinate string and disconnects.

How do you keep a clairvoyant from knowing how you are going to kill them?

You use another clairvoyant, of course.

—-

When you drop from the underbelly of your plane, you do so alone.

Your minions are there, of course - Heather's piloting, with the rest on support positions or with other tasks when they actually land. But you will not take them with you into a brawl when you can help it.

You cannot fly, but you can use a different trick you learned through some very difficult trial and error - summoning sections of shadow and solidifying them, to 'run' across the sky. It's a peculiar feeling that combines vertigo with certain mental acrobatics to circumvent the laws of physics. If you fuck up, you'll fall.

So you don't fuck up.

You also don't try and stay airborne long. Instead, you let yourself drop in increments, cushioned by your shadows, until you reach the scrubland below.

You are, perhaps, a mile out from the outskirts of the town that you've been given the coordinates of. There's no question of whether it's the right one - there's a giant, gleaming metal spire in its center that doesn't belong amidst the southwestern architecture.

(The question of who endorsed these idiots is a problem you will handle later.)

There is no sign of movement in the town itself. The residents are either already casualties, imprisoned, or fled. You don't actually care which, you just want to know if you'll be stepping over more corpses than the ones you make.

There's only one way to find out - so you start walking.

---

Earlier, when you were first starting to train Alexandria, she had asked you why you never carried weapons.

"I don't really need them." You'd answered, even as you went through a practice pattern with a padded staff. "My shadows are amorphous, I can craft them however I need to. Harder mentally than fixing them into shape, but more difficult to physically counter."

Alexandria had been taking a break, perched on top of the giant tire you'd been having her lift. "You sure it's not just an image thing?" She'd asked skeptically.

You'd grinned, "Oh, it definitely adds to the image. I am unarmed, because I am always armed."

"Mom says you should do the opposite." She'd remarked. "Carry a weapon so that people think you're reliant on it, and then when they disarm you, they're surprised."

"That trick only works on someone once - though your mother does put it to good use. Also, her abilities are a little easier to disarm than mine. Shadows are everywhere - water? Not quite so easy to come by in certain circles. And the spear adds to her reach for better maneuverability. Your father too, I suppose, though he's more likely to bash someone with that shield."

Alexandria had studied you. "You really know a lot about how they fight."

In answer, you'd twirled the staff in your hands, and mimicked some of the spear patterns you'd seen both Athena and Legionnaire use.

"'Therefore I say: 'Know the enemy and know yourself; in a hundred battles you will never be in peril.'" You quote.

"Sun Tzu?" Alexandria sighs, "Please don't make me memorize the Art of War. I've already got paragraphs of the Iliad I'll never be able to get rid of."

"Memorization's pretty useless." You toss the staff instead, spinning it for fun instead of a combat pattern. "I just want you to understand what it means, not how much gold you need to allocate per li traveled."

Alexandria had eyed you suspiciously, "How many times have you read the Art of War?"

"No more questions." You'd declared. "How's the flight coming?"

---

Thunder booms by the time you've made it to the spire itself.

The sky has been steadily darkening, as you've picked your way through the empty streets. There are pock marks in the asphalt, holes in the buildings. Some of them are burned to the ground or melted - Cobalt's work, most likely.

You briefly wonder if they have a recovery factor, if you'll have to put them down again today. It doesn't change much, either way.

No bodies. Bloodstains, crumpled cars. Someone's had the wherewithal to clean, at least. Or someone who could raise the dead showed up already - hard to tell from context clues.

If you weren't wearing your helmet, you could've taken a deep breath and smelled only the heat, melting into the softer gentleness of rain. You could've felt the wind on your face, in a steady breeze.

But you were wearing your helmet, so you only noted those things distantly, and that made it all the more contrasting when you stepped into the trap that had been laid for you.

---

There are sirens wailing, somewhere. The few who have not been cut off already, cut silent as the screams of the living have been, one by one and in waves. The hush that should follow is denied by the high pitched whining of machinery and the sound of burning things. There are sparks, and pops. Something like words worn smooth in the background, run over so many times that they're part of these floorboards that are now cracking and failing, released again at the moment of unmaking.

You focus on the sounds, because you cannot see the devastation. You focus on the sounds, because you cannot smell the burning. You focus on the sounds, because if something does not force you to confront it, you do not know how fast or far away you would be running.

You shut your eyes and fight for air. Your hands close into fists, and you feel the world roll around you. An earthquake? You should be running -

Breathe. Weigh the situation, then move.

The sirens are too loud. The flames - you would've noticed them earlier, seen the smoke. The pieces of this scenario do not match.

You flip the settings on your helmet. The sounds do not change.

A mental effect, then. An illusion?

On a hunch, you blanket the area around you in shadow. From a building to your left, you hear a squeak of terror.

Slowly, not trusting your sense of direction, you turn towards it and take a single step.

"I know that you are there." You say calmly. "Your illusions are good, but they are not perfect. Come out, or my shadows will drag you out."

There's a pause, and the illusions intensify - you can feel the heat of fire on one side of your body, smell harshly chemical smoke - then the thunder cracks again, and you are abruptly returned to the near silence of reality.

A shuffling of footsteps. Then a small head pokes around a doorframe.

You run your shadows over them anyway, to make sure this is not an adult pretending to be a child. If they are, they're either much better at illusions than they're letting on, or they can also shapeshift.

You'd say the figure that steps into view is no more than eight years old.

"What is your name?" You ask, still calm, still gentle.

"Ciaran." The answer is in a near whisper.

"They did not give you a code-name?"

The child pales. "Ch-Cheshire. Like the cat."

You nod. "Very well, Cheshire. I am Synovus."

You look up and down the street, and compare the feelings of your vision to the area that surrounds you now. A few things make sense.

"I know." The child says, swallowing. "Please don't kill me."

"I will only kill you if you try to kill me." You answer, matter-of-fact. It's no use protesting that you don't kill children, no one ever believes you. "Your abilities - that wasn't an illusion, was it? It was a memory. A memory you pushed into my mind."

Cheshire nods, hesitant. "Ez - Jester said I should make you scared."

"And so you chose something that had scared you." You complete, "I felt your fear. And why did Jester want me scared?"

"I'm not supposed to answer any questions."

"You already have."

"You're going to hurt me. Hurt them."

You fold your arms. Why do you keep winding up in moral arguments with children?

"That will not change based on what you tell me, little one."

"I wasn't supposed to be here." Cheshire blurts. "I was supposed to wait - to wait until you came inside, and then -"

They fall silent, and you nod. "And then Jester would teleport behind me, hm? And why are you out here then, alone?"

"Because I don't want you to hurt them. I thought I could make you run away before you fought."

"Others have come here before me. Have you scared them away too?"

The child scuffs a foot. "Some of them. No one's ever found me though."

You crouch. "You've done a very stupid thing, coming out here to face me. But I am not here for you, and I am in a hurry. Hide, and I will not hurt you."

Cheshire steps back, but hesitates. "And Jester?"

You sigh. "They must face the consequences of their actions."

Cheshire's bottom lip wobbles. "Don't kill him! He's - he's my brother, I don't - promise you won't kill him!"

Sometimes, you really do hate yourself. Past, present, and future.

"I promise." You grit out, "That I will not kill your brother, Jester, on the condition that you hide, and not use your powers again, until a woman named Rosie comes to get you. Do we have an agreement?"

A stubbornness enters Cheshire's expression. "Pinky promise."

Again, you feel like this is a trap. Also, you're mildly offended that you would need to make a further oath than the one you've already made, but this is a child. So you hold out one hand, as far as you can, and Cheshire does the same.

When Cheshire nods solemnly, you straighten, and turn back towards the spire. The sound of scuffling marks the child's scramble through the rubble, and you hope you haven't made a terrible mistake in letting them get away.

You allow yourself another heavy sigh, and call Rosie to tell her what to expect.

---

You don't actually know for sure whether or not you have siblings. But wanting to sacrifice yourself to save a family member? You can remember feeling that way.

You know who your parents are (sometimes you wish you didn't) and you're reasonably sure your mother didn't have another child after you. Your father could have a whole bevvy of children, a miniature army, and you would never have known. An elder full-blooded sibling could've been taken away prior to your conscious memory.

Your father was known as Sunhallow. He who is Hallowed by the Sun. A god-made-flesh, who seemed to bleed gold and healed in the sun, and could incinerate enemies in beams of light.

Your mother was simply your mother to you, and if she ever did anything with her minor telekinetic gifts beyond keep up with you, you never heard about it.

When you were young, an enemy came calling. Several, perhaps. You were packed from your private tutoring into a safe room, and you did not come out for several days. It was you, your tutor, and a few others, who you knew would die to protect you on pain of a worse death at Sunhallow's hands.

When you finally came out again, you were brought to see him. He told you that your mother had had to go away, but if you worked hard enough, you could be allowed to go see her again. When you would not be a burden to her work.

Desperate to please, you had thrown yourself into your education and training. Combat, economics, athletics. Trying to find a way to call the sun the way Sunhallow could, in vain.

Several months in, your shadows had finally manifested for the first time. You'd been delighted to show him, begged to be allowed to speak to your mother - a letter, a phone call.

Sunhallow had refused.

After that day, he called you his moon-child. You became his shadow, never speaking, never moving unless called upon to do so. Your training, somehow, increased.

And when you had done that for a month, you were brought into a room where a caped hero had been restrained on a table. You knew their name from the list you were to memorize, and their strengths and weaknesses accordingly. Their name was Willowsteel.

Sunhallow put a dagger in your hands, and pointed at Willowsteel.

"There is the man who took your mother." He told you, "Go and get her back."

You had torn into them as though somewhere inside them was a key, and you could use it to open a door, and on the other side would be your mother, happy to see you after so long apart. But there was no key: only blood, and eventually that ran out too.

When you were done, Sunhallow had led you to another room, and showed you your mother's corpse.

---

The rain began to fall just as you stepped over the threshold of the spire.

It caused an interesting audio phenomenon on the inside, as it rang off the metal in a discordant harmony with the hum of the air conditioning. Thunder rumbled again.

There was no one in the entry hall that you could see. Only an empty room, wide and spacious, with a large grand staircase leading up. It feels more like a warehouse than a lair.

“Optix.” You whisper inside your helmet. “Does this place have an intercom?”

A two note trill that you take as a yes.

“Would you be so kind as to patch me into it, for a moment?”

Another two note trill, then the sound that usually heralds you should leave a message in a voicemail.

“Perhaps I was not clear enough, the last time we spoke.” You drawl, and in your voice is cold fury and disdain. There are sounds of startled movement from the stairs. “Allow me to clarify.”

Metal really is a horrible building material - the boots of anyone who is coming ring with such finality as they run to meet their deaths. A line of those you take for goons, pale-faced and unsteady and armed with automatic weaponry you know is stolen.

Your voice doesn’t waver, doesn’t change. Each word is delivered with gravitas and perfect diction. “Thou hast fucked around.”

You take several steps forwards into the room, your cape billowing behind you. The empty black blank of your helmet offers no reprieve or indication of humanity - only their own reflections.

“Thou shalt find out.”

Thunder shakes the sky - and the goons open fire.

—-

How do you keep a shadowmancer from killing you?

Well, that depends on how you define a shadow.

Must it be pure, pitch darkness? In that case, arrange for sufficient lighting, and they will be powerless.

Must it be a living thing’s shadow? Lure them into a trap, provide sufficient lighting, no living shadow to work from.

But can it be a half-shadow? If so, sufficient lighting becomes a problem. One need only cup their hand to create a negative space within the light, and draw a shadow from there. A bundle of a cape edge. The hollow of one boot.

And speaking of hollows - if a shadow is simply where the light isn’t, what, then, of a body’s hollows? The spaces in the mouth, the lungs, the small pockets inside various cavities. The slim space between brain and skull. Are those shadows?

Because if they are, a shadowmancer does not need external shadows to kill you.

And how do you keep a shadowmancer like that from coming to kill you?

Short answer: you don’t.

—-

You don't bother to count your kills. The ticker on that particular statistic is long broken, and you will not linger here. You grant them the mercy you have to give, and make things quick.

It takes you less than thirty seconds to go from staring down a wall of automatic rifle barrels to stepping over corpses, and up the stairs.

About halfway up the first level, the air shifts.

You pause, and when no immediate strike is forthcoming, you turn. "You do not have so many opportunities available to you that you can afford to waste an opening like that." You chide.

Jester is flushed, their breathing heavy. They stand where you were seconds earlier, and stare at the room, and then up at you.

"What did you do to Dymania?" They ask, and you see the edge of desperation in their eyes.

You decide that this is a lesson that can only be truly taught once. "A better question." You say thoughtfully, "Would be what I did to Ciaran."

At the mention of their brother's name, you watch Jester's face go through a variety of emotional contortions. You wouldn't bother to name all of the shades, but 'terror' features predominantly among them.

To Jester's credit, they learn quickly. The next time they teleport, there is no more pretense of talking.

---

In the rooms above you, you cannot see it for yourself, but you will learn later that Dymania is paralyzed. They lie on the floor, in the room crafted for them to get the most from their gifts. Overloaded with a thousand potential futures, each only a maddeningly small difference from the next, they occasionally shout or spasm.

In the room above them, Minerva has finally found an opening. She is trailing more goons, there is a bullet in her shoulder, and her leg is still not completely healed, but she manages to reach the rainwater, and that is all that she needs.

On the same level, down the hall, Alexandria is no longer held in check by her mother's captivity. They far underestimated her strength, and she has broken the bonds on herself and several others. When someone tries to enter the room, she takes the door off of its hinges and literally sweeps a path clear for the other hostages to flee.

Outside, Rosie is sitting on a chunk of concrete rubble, talking to a little boy who has no idea there are four others hidden in the area around him, ready to strike anyone else who approaches.

And a single figure hurtles through the sky, with no way to know that he is already too late.

---

You probably could've ended the fight with Jester much sooner, but... okay, so you were maybe having some fun with it.

Not because he was so clearly distressed, mind, just because how often did you really get to brawl with someone? No super strength, no weapons, no summoned spouts of fire, just a good old fashioned punch-out.

Yeah, sure, the kid teleported, but that just made it more interesting to fight him.

(You weren't sure what would happen if he solidified in a space he happened to share with, say, your arm, and you were disinclined to find out, so you had to lead your movements just enough and - well, it was harder than it sounded.)

And yes, you are furious still, but that fury was largely alleviated by doing something, and with the pieces you have set into motion, you will have to trust in the others in the building to play their parts. Also, you did promise not to kill this one, specifically.

So when he tries to gain enough momentum to blindside you by teleporting up and coming down, and you sidestep on the blood-slicked staircase, there is not a spike of shadow waiting to impale him if he does not teleport again quickly enough. When you see an opportunity to force him to carry through a motion and crack his skull into the railing, you stay your hand.

Mostly, though, you move in circles that broaden to leaps of your own, until Jester decides to try and pick up one of the guns of the dead goons.

You fold your arms as he aims at you. "Nice try."

Jester furrows his brow, the mask contorting to match. He glances at the barrel, does a doubletake, and swears. Frantic scurrying only turns up more of the same.

"I don't - what - how?" He cries, jumping from body to body for a gun that works.

"Solidified the shadows in the barrels." You lean against the railing and cross one leg over the other. You're only mildly winded.

“You can do that?” Jester cries in horror.

You hum. You aren’t entirely unsympathetic. “I can do many things.”

Jester looks up at you, something like determination in his eyes - and disappears.

When he does not reappear, trying to punch you again, you sigh. “Damn it.”

You click your way through to Rosie again. “Yeah, I overdid it. No, I’m fine. I am not that old. The roof? Fine. There better be an elevator.”

Grumbling, you find the elevator at the heart of the spire. They haven’t locked it yet - so you’ll take however many floors you can get out of it before they do.

—-

When you were younger, your mother told you about the things that made someone Great.

You can’t quite say they were stories, because they were more like… half-anecdotes, strung together on a line. But they were always meant to entertain and teach, and you could listen while you did other things.

For a long time, you thought they were all about your mother and father. She was every brave woman who thought to heal instead of breaking, every woman who drove a weapon’s blade through solid stone, every woman who adventured and every woman who stayed home.

Your father was every man who proved the truer than his enemies, who rallied others to his cause, who truly believed and in that faith called others to follow. Inspired them, rather than commanded.

And you? You were both of them. You had your mother’s adventuring and wisdom, your father’s effortless grace and pure heart. You did not need your own stories, when you could frolic in the mix of theirs, leaping from one tale to the next, an ephemeral sidekick.

Your mother never corrected you. But you learned, eventually.

Your father was never the protagonist in those stories at all.

And where did that leave you?

—-

The elevator stops about two stories up, by your reckoning, and had you been standing by the door like a dunce, you would've been pummeled by a torrent of water.

And had there not been mirrors at the back of the elevator, you might've pummeled Minerva with a torrent of shadow.

But there were, so you could see it was her from your vantage of tucked-into-the-corner, and she could see it was you as the center mirror cracked and shattered.

(You weren't sure if you should commend these young idiots for thinking of the corner tricks, or condemn them for putting in wall to floor mirrors. Really, those things shatter no matter what kind of treatment you give them.)

"Synov-" Her incredulity is cut off, as you sweep around the corner - and sweep her into a hug.

She must be exhausted, because you get away with it. She stands rigid for a moment, bracing, likely thinking you're tackling her or some other nonsense. Once it becomes clear - oh, a second or two later - that you're only wrapping your arms around her in reassurance that she's alive, some self-preservation instinct drops.

For a moment, she rests her head on your shoulder, and gently presses one arm against your back.

When she pulls away, you do too.

"I should've known you'd come for Al- Menace." She says, and her throat is raw. Smoke? Screaming? (You're going to burn this town a second time) "Had to show me up one more time."

"One day, Minerva." You say quietly, "I'm going to prove to you that my affection for you is not a trap, or some kind of proxy for your child. But for now -"

You spread your hands, summoning shadows between them. You spin them like thread, that thickens to wire, that thickens to cord, pulled taut and bulging on one end. That end clarifies - sharp edges, a wide base that narrows to a point. A replica of Athena's spear.

Minerva - Athena? - takes it, weighing its balance. She opens her mouth to say something, but you are already holding out a disc in the shape of her shield.

"The weight's wrong." She says, taking the shield.

"Shadows." You say apologetically. "Not the heaviest things. Shall we?"

Minerva clears her throat, "Menace is searching for more cells. They had a lot of people here."

You nod, and follow when she walks away. "Anyone other than Jester and Dymania I should worry about?"

Athena adjusts her shield. "Not while I'm around."

---

When you were Sunhallow's shadow, he called you 'Eclipse.'

You were not his enforcer - he did that well enough on his own. You were the spy, the assassin, a card near the bottom of a very stacked deck. An observer, time and time again.

And, as proves inevitable when someone is taught to find loopholes and make observations, they will begin to find chinks in their predecessor's armor. They will learn to ply their skills for their own gain, rather than only on instruction. It is what makes them good at what they do.

You were very good at what you did.

In all of your searching and spying, you put together several pieces. You conducted your own investigations, slipped additional questions into interrogations, took the time to talk to your targets before you killed them.

Their words painted a very different picture than the one you'd been given. They showed that your mother had not been abducted, but had left willingly. May have even opened the door. They showed that Sunhallow was not the first to claim godhood, only the most recent to become so prominent. And that not everyone, as he had claimed, recognized his inherent superiority.

Your father told you that one day, you would become Holy, as he was. The Sun would hallow your bones, bless you, and raise you to take over where he left off. But you knew what he looked like when he was lying, by then. You also knew he liked to tempt others by offering them the idea of his position, his glory. It was bait.

And the day the light finally responded to your call, you realized that you were going to have to take it.

---

When you and Athena find Menace, it's by finding the end of her trail of ducklings - nearly thirty people, milling about in varying levels of distress and shock.

Someone screamed when they caught sight of you, in your distinctive costume, and Athena with her spear and shield of shadows. You sighed, unsurprised, but didn't have time to even start trying to explain yourself before a head rose above the others. And kept rising.

Nearly flat to the ceiling, Menace shot over the heads of her flock, and hurtled into the pair of you to grab you both in a hug.

"Super-strength, super-strength, super-strength," you chant in warning, wanting to come out of this reunion with your trachea intact.

"You saw me ten minutes ago." Athena chides gently, but her heart isn't in it, and she hugs Menace back just as tightly.

“I’ve never been so happy to see a pile of garbage bags in my life.” Menace says, giving you a very careful squeeze. You have time to make an offended noise before she turns her attention back to her mother; “And you - you got shot? I specifically requested you not get shot.”

“The people.” Athena reminds her, nodding towards the shambling mass of mundanity.

“None of them got shot either.” Menace replies mulishly. When Athena sighs, she relents. “No major injuries so far, though some of them are pretty banged up - bruises, scrapes. I think I’ve gotten most of them out by now, unless there’s a basement to this place.”

Athena looks at you, and you shrug. “It would make sense that they did, but the elevator didn’t go down that far, and herding prisoners down stairs gets very annoying very quickly. If there is one, I’m betting it’s maintenance.”

The shambling mass of mundanity has been whispering since you arrived. You could wait for Menace or Athena to soothe them - but you’d rather not.

“Oh, shut up.” You tell them crossly. “If I were here to kill you all I would’ve blown up the place and been done with it. You all get to live and deal with the trauma for the rest of your sorry lives. Lucky you.”

There’s a collective gasp of shocked breath, and the nearest ones edge back from you a little more - but they do go silent.

Athena elbows you in the ribs. “Synovus does have a point about the stairs.” She says calmly. “And the elevator isn’t safe. Have we found an alternative exit?”

Menace sighs, “I could punch through an outer wall and carry people down?”

Athena considers the group size. “That would take some time. And we would be vulnerable during movement.”

“The ground level is secure.” You mention idly.

“Which doesn’t rule out snipers or the two remaining supervillains.” Menace points out.

“You.” Athena says suddenly. “You can make discs of shadow, and you can hold them. You can make one wide enough for them to all stand on, so they can be lowered down together.”

You could also make a slide that curves around the spire all the way down, but you don’t say that part out loud.

“I could.” You concede. “You would be putting their lives in my hands.”

“If you wanted them dead, you’d have killed them by now.” Athena counters. “So time to live up to not wanting them dead.”

You survey the crowd. You have an image to maintain - or, well , partially reconstruct.

“Fine.” You drawl, and stalk closer to the group. You shoo them all to one side, and rest your fingertips on one wall, feeling for the vibration of the rain. “This is the outer wall?”

Athena breaks off reassuring the people to call to you, “It is. Maybe four, five inches?”

You resist the urge to make inappropriate jokes. Someone in the crowd does not. Someone else smacks them on the back of the head. The first person mutters something about stress responses and apologizes.

Experimentally, you lodge a spear of shadow into the wall. It sticks until you dismiss it. You can see a faint gleam of pale light through it.

Well. Shit. Shadows are very adaptable things, but they don’t cut very well - they’re more brute force and occasionally piercing.

Which means you’re going to have to use the light.

Whatever. At least it’s not made of concrete.

You don’t bother to explain yourself to your companions, not with an audience present. Instead, you raise a wall of shadow between yourself and them, thick enough to block the glow of radiance when you summon light to your hands.

A beam would be easiest, here - but it would also be like setting off a beacon. The most subtle would be to use the light as a knife, as you normally do when you have to use it, but that would take forever. So… laser cutter?

You use three sharp, long lines to hack off either side and a new roof line, giving it a shove near the top with your shadows so it doesn’t try and fall inward. Another slash at the bottom cuts it loose. The chunk of metal falls away with a relatively soft screech (which is, still deafening) and drops with the rest of the rain, and your shadow wall.

You reveal yourself again, already turned to face the group, with the rain now drumming on the metal flooring (you may have erred on the side of excess for height) and the wind blowing your cape out dramatically. You gesture to the open air, shadows already weaving a basket to hold a large group of people.

They cannot see you smiling, but they can hear it. It is not a polite or joyful smile. “Your chariot awaits, dear friends.”

—-

No one thanks you for putting a raised edge on the platform.

Menace would’ve caught them, of course, but still. Did your efforts to save them from falling mean nothing?

Had circumstances been different, you might’ve complained about that to Athena, loudly and at length. Instead, you stayed quiet, and kept time in your head as you lowered a herd of sheeple to solid ground.

You stay up in the spire, though Athena rides with them to reassure them, and Menace drifts alongside. Once they’re down, she argues with her mother for a moment. Then she flies back up, carrying Athena.

“Refused to stay put for her injuries?” You remark, having found a chair to lounge in. That actually did take a significant amount of energy, though you’ve done everything you can to disguise that.

“Yes.” Menace grumbles.

“I told her I’d climb the spire by hand if I had to.” Athena says stubbornly. To Menace, she said firmly, “I let someone slow me from coming to you once. Never again.”

“You two are going to have the strangest rivalry.” You said admiringly, to break the tension. Both of them turn to you instead, and even if Menace’s head is covered, you’d bet their expressions are identical.

You raise your hands in mock-warding - and pause as the air shifts again.

There are two people in the hallway. One, the bruised-but-mobile Jester. The other, slumped against a wall and looking much worse for wear, is Dymania.

Menace and Athena both tense, drawing a step closer together in preparation for a fight. You cross one leg over the other at the knee.

"You know, you two are terrible hosts." You call, casually flicking a crease from your costume. "Leaving us alone for so long? Incredibly ru-"

"Shut UP Synovus!" Jester yells, near manic. You can see the whites of his eyes all the way around, even under the mask. "You weren't even supposed to be here! You're retired!"

"Someone doesn't check Twitter." You remark, amused.

"I - What?" Aw, you've genuinely thrown this one for a loop.

"Twitter." You repeat. "I tweeted 'nvm, comma, I'm back' an hour before I arrived." You enunciate each letter in 'nvm' instead of approximating a word.

Athena sighs, "Synovus."

"Yes, honored colleague?"

"Shut up."

You respond by rising, and giving an overexaggerated bow. Dymania yelps and throws themself to one side - because as you straighten, you throw lances of shadow at both of them.

---

The fight really didn't take long.

You're pretty sure the only reason they got Athena or Menace was by threatening the hostages they already had, and you could've wiped the floor with them on your own. You still didn't kill Jester, and even helped cushion a hit he took from Menace.

(The hit wouldn't have hurt him as much as the rebound against the floor. Menace would've been terribly upset to have accidentally killed him.)

(Though, if she or Athena killed him, you wouldn't be in violation of your promise.)

(But - no. You wouldn't do that to either of them. Not now.)

The end of things really came when Athena managed to pin Jester against the wall with her good arm, and you'd managed to herd Dymania away from his companion. He stumbled back again, and wound up crossing into the area where the rain was still falling.

(Lightening up, you noticed. Better finish things quickly then.)

The change was immediately noticeable. Dymania stiffened, clutching at their head with both hands, and tried to run forward out of the rain - only to find you there, walking them back to the edge.

"H- how did-" They cut themselves off, and you nodded.

"How did I know about the rain?" You asked politely, as much taking pity on them as taking the chance to grandstand. "The Silent Ones told me. You know how they feel about Clairvoyants who don't conform."

It isn't really possible for more color to drain from Dymania's face. Instead, they drop to their knees with a groan.

"What?" Menace asks, looking up from where she's trying to convince Athena to trade off with her.

You raise your voice a little, so she can hear you better. "The Silent Ones. An enclave of Clairvoyants, hidden from most of the world. When two clairvoyants cross each others paths, it's like putting two mirrors opposite each other. Endless reflections. They hate it."

You watch Dymania try to stagger back to their feet, and feel no pity. "That includes if one shows up in their own futures. It gives them headaches at best. Sometimes they wind up in comas, if they're particularly unprepared. So one of them eventually hit upon the idea - what if all of them lived together?"

You glance towards the sky, calculating how long you have left. "They live according to a very strict schedule, and interact as little as possible with each other. If everyone does exactly as ordered, there's no need to make predictions. No traps to fall into. They don't force others into it, but they certainly don't like it when someone has plans that conflict with their order either."

"You mean like, someone leaving?" Menace asks, having managed to take half-ownership of keeping Jester pinned. She sounds offended on their behalf.

"No, they can leave whenever they want. Its the ones who want to do something about their enclave - like find it, exploit it, or destroy it - that find themselves suddenly overwhelmed with bad luck. And the chaos of the rest of the world is often too much for them, once they've gotten used to the enclave."

"So its... more like a sanctuary?"

"Yes. And they know you, Dymania. They know that you cannot stand the rain."

"Make it stop." Dymania begs you. You aren't even sure they've been following the conversation - their eyes are unfocused, trying not to see or feel the falling water around them.

"Clairvoyants, as a whole, despise rain." You mention idly. You have not moved. "The randomness involved in where each drop falls - it ties them up into knots. Worse, if they predict how the droplets will feel on their skin. Some of them can filter it out, like white noise - Dymania is not one of them."

You tilt your head, and then turn back to the others. "Very well. Let's go."

Like you know they will, Dymania gives a cry of desperation. They push, once more, to try and make it to their feet. And at the point where their future diverges, they try to draw the handgun Jester had forced them to carry.

You pivot, and in one smooth motion, kick Dymania out of the spire.

"Dy!" Jester cries.

"Yes." You muse. "I suppose they will."

---

The fight goes out of Jester, after Dymania falls.

The three of you drag him up to the roof, at your direction. Once the skies clear, Heather will bring the plane back around, and all of you can reach it easily enough from the highest point. Plus, at this point, it's less stairs to go up than it would be to go back down, and you really don't want to do the disc trick again.

It turns out the roof is less a flat roof, and more of a ring near the top. You notice Menace shudder as you reach it, and tilt your head at her in question.

"They threw hostages over the railing here." She says quietly.

You nod. This explains why neither Menace or Athena protested much, at what you'd done. But you don't protest or labor the point either - instead, you clasp her arm in sympathy, and look up at where the sky is clearing.

"How did you time that so well?" Athena murmurs when you come up alongside her.

"Weatherwitch owed me a favor." You reply casually.

"Weather witch. The Silent Ones. Your council. What else is there, some kind of... Villain union?"

"Well..." You admit, "there is... something of a minion union, though I stay out of their business, mostly."

Athena sighs.

You almost take your helmet off to grin at her. You probably would've, but then you hear Menace, and the sudden tension in her voice as she says, "Mom?"

You both turn immediately - and see Legionnaire, hovering at the railing, and staring at you.

---

You didn't forget Legionnaire existed.

No, really, you didn't - but you did try really hard not to let yourself think about it for too long.

When you had named him (and Athena) as your rivals, you had made your choice based on what you thought was a genuine good in them. They did not hesitate until the cameras arrived. They did not extort or demand. They took some care for collateral when lives were involved, if not property, and they regularly showed up to help with rescue or relief efforts when they could.

And there was the fact that they had a kid.

You'd fought them enough times to know that they didn't mess around to grandstand or showboat. They maintained secret identities fairly well. They weren't like Dazzler, who would try and seduce villains in the hopes of fucking them back to civility. They weren't like White Shadow, who was always high enough when you fought them that you weren't sure they knew what was happening.

The closest, you thought, to real heroes.

So when you'd seen those bruises on Alexandria's arm, that first day, you'd been... surprised. You didn't exactly have the highest opinion of humanity in general, and you'd learned too many early lessons about pedestals and how much they hurt when they fell over on top of someone. But you had expected better of them.

From your observations, conversations with Minerva and Alexandria, and the things they didn't say, you'd pieced together a lot over the last year. That Minerva did have her flaws, but was trying to be better. That her healing factor meant that any bruises or sprains would've healed long before anyone else saw them. That Alex, though wary of Minerva sometimes, had still talked about her when she wasn't around. She almost never mentioned her father, and when she did, it was only questions about how you knew him, or in conjunction with her mother.

You had been worried, at first, that you were conflating him with Sunhallow. A man claiming holiness (the Sun made him Hallow, the Son of Mars) with strength and a following (A cult, a fanbase) and who coerced their child into working for them (Eclipse, Mercury) and who harmed them-

So you hadn't let yourself go out to find him and have it out. On better days, you admitted it wasn't your fight to have - it was Minerva and Alexandria's, if they wanted it. On worse days, you weighed the benefits and consequences of hiring someone versus doing it yourself.

And you had kept a degree of surveillance on him, just in case. Nothing in depth - you didn't know what brand of frozen pizza he bought or his Netflix account, you didn't care if he still had a job or had lost it - but just. General locations. Whether he went out in costume. You had Legionnaire watched, and not Albion.

But sometimes those lines blurred - so you knew that he had started drinking more heavily when Alexandria left. More again, after Minerva. The last two months, he'd seemed to be getting better, but he had stopped going out in costume.

And now he was here, and you had no idea what to do.

---

For what feels like an eternity, you all stand in silence. Athena had been startled into dropping Jester, automatically readying her shield and then stilling herself before she could aggravate her bullet wound any more.

(She still held the shadow set you'd given her, you hadn't found her usual weapons in the spire, though you had personally looked.)

You grabbed Jester, who was glancing back and forth with confused interest.

"Say a word, or try and teleport away." You tell him quietly, head next to theirs. "And I will make Dymania's death seem like a kindness."

Judging by the way he nods, slowly, he also remembers that you technically have Ciaran.

And Menace - oh, Menace - has lifted from the ground, hovering, with her hands curled into fists.

It's Legionnaire who breaks the silence first; "You inherited my powers."

He sounds... proud. Tired. His voice is rough. He's looking at Alexandria as though she is a prized pupil who has shown an aptitude in his favorite subject.

(He doesn't deserve that pride.)

"I have my own powers." Menace corrects him, her voice clipped and short.

Legionnaire moves his hands gently in a faint 'settle down' motion. "Of course." He says quietly. "All yours, Alex."

"Why are you here, Albion." Minerva demands. She's pulled off the Athena mask, and glares him down as he looks her over. Notes the shadow-weapons, the injury.

"I saw the broadcast." He explains, gesturing to the spire. "I thought - you needed help."

"We're fine." Minerva says flatly.

It's hard to shift uncomfortably when you're flying, but Legionnaire manages it - as his gaze slides to you.

"Oh, come off it." Minerva follows his gaze, and now sounds heated.

"Can you really blame me, Athena?" He says, and sounds beseeching. "This all started with him, when he took Alex -"

"They." Menace interrupts, nearly strangling the word. "Synovus is 'they,' not 'he.'"

Legionnaire bites his lip, flicks his eyes away, then back again. "Fine." He says, though his calm is less even now. "They took you, Alex. And then they took your mother, too."

"I left of my own free will." Alexandria has risen now, a little further up. Not quite even with her father. "And my name. Is Alexandria."

There's a certain exasperation in Legionnaire's expression that he can't hide fast enough. Changing tactics, he looks to Minerva again instead, "Athena, think about it. Synovus changed you! You know they used to say he - she, they - had manipulative powers. They've kept you isolated, and now let you get captured just so they can sweep in to save you-"

"Synovus." Minerva grits her teeth, "Did not make me move several hundred miles inland, away from my family and the source of my powers. Synovus did not discourage me from getting involved in the community, in case I accidentally gave our identities away. Synovus-" She has taken a step forward, with each line, and the tip of her spear is slowly lowering to point towards him. "-did not hurt my daughter."

Legionnaire exhales, "So did you." He points out. "It happens, it's not anything unusual - its how kids learn! I-"

"I am ashamed of that!" Minerva shouts. Alexandria has sunk an inch. "We were supposed to be better, Albion! We talked about trying to save cities, to save the world, and we couldn't even save our own daughter from ourselves!"

"No one is perfect." Legionnaire deflects.

Minerva points her spear at you. You do not flinch. "I have lived with them for over a month." She says, with a steely calm. "I have seen those who live with them. I have seen how they are with Alexandria." There's a subtle emphasis on the last half of the name, a pointed correction. "They provided me medical care without blinking, and though I have yelled and raged and attacked them, they have never raised a hand against me while I was in their house."

Legionnaire scoffs, "So Synovus learned to play nice for a while, that's not -"

"It's more than you ever managed." Minerva says with venom.

There is a silence then, deep enough that the entire spire could fall into it and further, swallowed by a negative space that never ends.

Finally, you speak again, but only when you are certain your voice is under your control. "The plane is here." You say calmly. "Someone should make sure this one-" You jostle Jester, "-is received properly."

There is a two-fold offer in the statement, and one you know both Minerva and Alexandria hear.

Tell me to leave, and I will.

Because you will, if they want. You are party to this story, but it is not yours. It will hurt you, and you will worry, but you know about closure and what it can take to find it.

Tell me to take care of him, and I will.

One more death will not be a burden on your conscious. Not when you feel responsible that he was allowed to continue - that you have protected this man for years. Logically, you know that's ridiculous. It isn't necessarily Logic that wants to kill him.

This pause is shorter, lighter. Minerva whirls on you, searching. You wait for the protest - that she can fight her own battles, and you should fuck off before she comes to her senses and fights you again, a villain at the scene of a crime.

Instead, she glances at Alexandria, who is still hovering, still staring at Legionnaire.

"Alexandria." Minerva says softly. "Our priority is still the people."

"Yes." She responds automatically. It takes her another moment to move, to shake herself out of her paralysis. "I can carry you both."

You know that does not include you.

"Athena, don't -" Legionnaire starts.

You ignore him, and look at Alexandria. "Menace." You address her by the title, helping knock her out of it a little more.

(Yes, remember - you want to tell her, - you are more than his daughter. You have stood in a room full of powerful people and held your own, and more.)

"Lady Synovus." Menace returns. You know it's specifically to spite Legionnaire's earlier assumption that you were male.

"As Legionnaire is your rival -" You ignore Legionnaire again when he starts to interrupt, raising your voice to talk over him, "- it is your jurisdiction as to what measures I can take."

The formality is a shield. You hate to ask this of her, to force her to say - but even if you weren't bound by the rules you'd created, you need to know. If she asks you not to hurt him... well, you'll try.

Alexandria pauses, watching Minerva. Minerva looks back at her, meeting her gaze through the helmet.

"It's your decision," She tells her daughter, "But I will stand by you, no matter what you decide."

"What's this about 'rivals'?" Legionnaire tries to interject.

Alexandria stiffens, as though she might yell at him, and you brace yourself to have to intervene - but instead, she just reaches up and removes her helmet.

Alexandria looks her father square in the face as she says, "Lady Synovus, I give you leave to do as you feel appropriate. No restrictions."

"You are certain?" You ask, because you want her to be sure.

"I am." Her voice doesn't waver.

Minerva takes Jester from you, frowning to remember that he's here, and he's overheard all of this. Alexandria drifts backwards, to gently gather both her mother and the defeated villain into her arms, before going up.

Legionnaire tries to follow - but can't, as you've already got a shadow wrapped around his ankles.

You slam him back down with relish.

"No." You say, your voice chilly, "You are not invited into their lives anymore, Legionnaire."

"And you get to decide that?" Legionnaire demands, trying to slice through your shadow. You tighten its grip in answer. "You get to decide I can't talk to my wife, my son-"

You are glad Alexandria is out of earshot.

"You have never had a son." You say harshly. "And Minerva is not yours in any capacity. You have had months to figure this out, Albion. Time's up."

He seizes on your word choice. "Figure it out - so you did do something! You took my family from me!"

The words, similar to the ones Minerva had yelled at you only a day earlier, make a sheltered part of you ache. But, you remind yourself, she did defend you. She trusts you.

Granted, looking at Legionnaire, still trying to find a way out of your shadows, you admit the bar is pretty fucking low.

"You did that yourself, you idiot." You hiss. "You drove Minerva away. You refused to accept your child. I am not the reason your life is terrible, Albion. You are."

He straightens, and you recognize the arrogance that returns to his posture. He still thinks you're trying to fool him. That he is correct. And he will not be swayed.

"Say whatever you want, Synovus!" He yells, "You won't keep me from the ones I -"

This time, it's a shadow that shuts him up - drawn out of his throat and coiled to serve as a gag. His eyes bulge. He did not know you could do this.

With a flick of your wrists, the shadows holding him down are gone - and replaced with chains of brilliant light. They drag him down, relentless, scorching the skin they touch, until he is pinned to the floor.

"I believe." You say, as you pick your way over to him. "That the missing word there is 'love.' But I am going to choose to believe you were going to say something else - because everything you have said today, Albion? It is not love."

You stare down at him. "You came here. You knew where they were. The lives in peril were of no consequence until it was Minerva and Alexandria. You did not come to save them. You came to try and make them listen to you again."

He may not be listening, but it doesn't matter. You do love a good monologue, and this particular serpent has been coiled in your chest for a long time.

"That isn't love, Albion." You tell him softly. "It's obsession. Possession. You don't respect them enough to consider that they have opinions and wants different than your own. And they deserve so much better."

You pick up the spear that he'd been forced to drop, and twirl it idly. He redoubles his attempts to struggle, to escape - he's always been so strong, but you have always been stronger.

You are very tempted to cast your powers aside here. You want the satisfaction of feeling his bones break beneath your hands, the visceral feeling of grabbing and tearing away. You want to make him suffer.

You want to look for a key that will give Alexandria and Minerva their happiness back.

But you know that those keys don't exist, by now. And you do not need to make yourself more of a monster to kill this one.

"They did love you, at one point." You muse. "And in another world - who knows? Maybe that would have been enough."

You plant one foot on his chest, and lean in. The tip of the spear rests on his throat, and finally, Legionnaire goes still.

"But redemption's never been my style." You hiss.

You slide the spear home.

---

A week after you return to business, you lead Alexandria and Minerva to a secluded part of the island.

The beach is shallow here, particularly at low tide. You and Minerva slosh through water up to your shins. Alexandria drifts over instead, occasionally splashing her feet in the water.

"Not much further." You assure them, though neither has shown signs of complaining. You are nervous. This place is not sacred to you, but it still has power over you.

There is a sea cave of black rock, out of the way. It does not tunnel into the rest of the island very far - a few hundred yards, that's all. A lava tunnel once, long since collapsed, and the inside filled by now with sand.

You pause at the entrance, staring at the void of perfect shadow. You love the shadows - they have always protected you, and you know this one does too - but you do not want to dive into its embrace. You want to run from it.

You clear your throat, "In here."

Carefully, you summon a small globe of light. The three of you (okay, the two of you) pick your way carefully through the cave's unsteady footing, until eventually the ground rises, becoming smooth stone instead of rocky black sand.

There isn't much ornamentation, here. Just a marker, in the form of a rock, carved with the sigil of the sun.

Minerva stiffens. "That's -"

"Sunhallow's sigil." You croak, and clear your throat again. "Yes. This is - this is his grave."

You stand in silence for a few moments - or at least, if Minerva or Alexandria speak, you don't hear them. You're staring sightlessly at the small obelisk you'd carved, so that you would always know if someone tampered with the body.

You still hate him, decades later.

You still sometimes wonder if you were wrong.

A touch at your shoulder startles you back to the present. Its Alexandria, who is looking at you, and not the grave. "You said that this was your father's grave."

"It is." You make yourself respond, then gesture to the front of the cave. "We should - the water gets higher, later, and I know we don't necessarily have to worry about that, but -"

"But you don't want to be here anymore." Minerva finishes. "That's okay, Synovus. We don't have to stay."

You are silent, until you are back out in the sunlight. It should be the opposite, you think - the sunlight was always his, the shadows were yours. Now he has a lair of shadows, and you seek refuge in the light? You'd accuse the universe of irony, if you hadn't brought this upon yourself.

You are not in costume, today. None of you are. It means that they can see the expressions you have lost control over, as you pace back and forth beneath a clump of palm trees, near the shoreline.

"Sunhallow was my father." You say finally, abruptly. Your shoulders drop. The tension - the weight - isn't gone, but... saying the words didn't hurt. Your throat didn't swell closed before you could force them out. You didn't deflect, equivocate, or dodge.

"Sunhallow was my father." You repeat.

"We gathered that." Minerva says, and you are grateful for her dryness.

"I-" You draw in a breath, and turn, shrugging out of the light wrap you wear. Beneath it is a backless shirt that Alexandria had insisted you buy, for one of your more feminine days. You hadn't had the heart to tell her you never exposed that much skin.

Because on your back, centered on your spine and between your shoulder blades, is a large tattoo of the same sigil. The ink is stark against your skin even before it begins to change. Touched by the sunlight, from the center out, the ink turns a glittering gold.

Hallowed, by the Sun.

You can tell from Alexandria's 'woah' that she thinks it's cool as hell. You can tell by Minerva's sharp inhalation that she knows what it means.

You pull the wrap back into place, and turn to face them.

"I killed him." You say, and you speak quickly, as though someone is going to cut you off and you will never get a chance to tell this story, the one you have never told anyone before. "I worked for him for years, as an informant and spy, but I was too good at what he taught me. I learned things he didn't want me to know - didn't want anyone to know - and I - I learned when he lied. I learned about, about the purges."

When Sunhallow was challenged, he had taken to targeting groups of people. Heroes, villains. Towns. It was purification by sunlight, in great quantities - Hallowing the place, with the Sun.

He did not leave survivors.

You swallow, "He was healed by sunlight." You explain, "So I smothered him with shadows."

You knew he would never let anyone into his rooms after nightfall, when he was most vulnerable. So you'd killed him at noon, when the sun was highest, and you'd have had to be stupid to attack him.

You did sometimes do very stupid things.

"I killed him, and then I packed his body into a trunk, and I brought it out here, and I buried it in the cave where the sun will never touch it again." You are surprised, a little, at the vitriol in your voice.

You hadn't taken any chances, moving him. You didn't know if he could come back from the dead, but you didn't want to find out.

Minerva is staring at you with something like wonder.

"It was you." She said softly. "You were the Eclipse."

You nod, exhaling. "The Heresiarch Heir." You echo glumly. "Patricide. Oathbreaker. Murderer. And coward, besides."

Minerva pushes off the tree she's been leaning on, and reaches for you. "Brave." She says firmly. "No one could stop Sunhallow - but you, you couldn't have been more than twenty when he died."

You laugh, short and hollow. "Sixteen."

Minerva blinks. "I couldn't have done such a thing." She admits. "How...?"

You blow out another breath. "He killed my mother." You say, staring into the middle distance again. "And made me kill Willowsteel."

You do not elaborate on how long it took, or how you knew it had been Sunhallow's hand that had killed your mother. Some things you were not ready to talk about, even now.

"Willowsteel...." Minerva muses, "They had a metallurgy ability, didn't they? Or was it magnetics?"

You still have perfect recall of that list. "Metallurgy, with a particular talent for shaping weaponry." You respond automatically.

And you had known that, even when they'd put a steel knife in your hands. And he had known it too, as you stood over him. But in his eyes, you had seen something like a horrified acceptance.

You had been a child. He could've easily overpowered you, or turned the blade aside. For a long time, you had told yourself that it was because he knew Sunhallow would kill him anyway, and he wanted it to be over.

The day you buried Sunhallow, sitting outside the cavern and watching the sun rise again, you'd forced yourself to admit it - that Willowsteel hadn't killed you, because he would rather have died than hurt you.

Truer than his enemies. A man with faith and belief, even if it wasn't in a god, or a man who pretended to be one.

You couldn't plant willow trees on the island - the climate didn't agree with them - but on one of the estates Sunhallow had once owned, there was a grove of them, in a perfect ring around a monument to all of those lost in the purges.

You spend the rest of the afternoon telling stories, when you could stomach it. They asked questions, sometimes. About your mother, about how you'd scraped yourself back together as a villain under your own power. How you'd drawn the others together, forced some degree of order from chaos in the cape-population explosion after the purges had ended.

You knew that both of them understood.

---

Days later, you are waiting in a room decorated in pure white.

The room is quiet, and you can hear the distant roar of an ocean that is not yours. You sit in the dark, one leg crossed over the other, pretending not to be bored.

When the light flips on, the woman in the doorway stiffens, but tries not to show any other signs of distress.

You lift your head, the black shine of your helmet giving her nothing to work with. Another dark-clad figure waits to one side, a third (though in blue rather than black) is keeping watch outside. She has not noticed them yet, you think. She will be furious about that.

"My dear Tallflawes." You drawl, leaning forward. "We need to discuss some of your more recent... investments."

[And so we come to the end (for now!) - thank you to everyone who's made it this far, whether you've been here since the beginning or are only recently catching up. My goal was to finish this during Pride Month, and I have succeeded! Sum total, VNR is just over 34k words, with Call Me Menace sitting at about 8.5k.]

[And a shoutout to 'daddythedragon' and Daphanae for correctly guessing the show Alexandria was watching last time, which was Murder, She Wrote! (Columbo and Magnum P.I. were good guesses too).]

[rollinouttahere-writes]

One Piece Space AU

In this AU, the Grand Line is now the Grand Line Galaxy. A particularly diverse and dangerous galaxy that draws in all kinds of adventurers. There are also tons of valuable resources here that catch the attention of the Enforcers. Enforcers are this AU’s version of marines. They claim to exist to maintain peace and order.

The Grand Line Galaxy is known for having streams flowing through it that can be used for traveling. These streams are made up of a clear liquid that resembles water but has a far lower freezing temperature and is also extremely toxic to anything that didn’t evolve to inhabit it.

There are two types of spaceships here. One is the more typical version that we see in sci-fi movies, the other is the kind of boat inspired spaceships like in the Treasure Planet movie.

The boat spaceships are considered ideal in the Grand Line because they can be used to sail on the stream, thus only needing fuel when they leave the stream to dock at a station or planet. This is not only much faster than the average spaceship, but is much more fuel efficient since it can just ride the current. The current is extremely fast, you do not want to fall off.

There are no devil fruits in this AU, just weird alien powers.

Fishman are pretty similar to how they usually are in this AU. They evolved in the Grand Line Stream so they can enter it freely. Biggest differences are that they’re larger and have more alien features.

Humans do exist in the space AU, but aren’t very common to see. Aliens have been snatching up humans for experiments/labor/pleasure for a long time, so it’s not unheard of to see them about. Some humans have been able to escape what they were sold into and have established human colonies.

The calm belt is made up of vapor from the streams and consists of dense storm-like clouds that cover the entire galaxy. Absolutely no technology functions while in the calm belt, only entirely hand operated mechanisms will be able to work. There are many large deep space creatures occupying the calm belt that will rip apart anything/anyone that is unfortunate enough to drift into it. The only “safe” entrance to the Grand Line Galaxy is where the streams first begin. If you’re in a regular spaceship, it’s pretty easy to slip in through the opening. If you’re in the boat spaceship and have to enter the stream, it’s much more tedious. Due to how fast the current is, one wrong move while entering it can easily slip over the ship and tear it to shreds.

The Straw Hats

Unfortunately as a writer, I cannot name things for the life of me. None of the alien species here are going to be named, but feel free to assign names to them if you feel like it. I am also going to be including Brook and Jinbei here even though I haven’t gotten to them yet. My interpretation are based entirely off spoilers I’ve seen and cold reading, I will probably come back later to tweak these after I get to them.

EDIT: Big thank you to @emtynessinmyworld for coming up with all the names for the alien species!

Both the Going Merry and the Thousand Sunny are the Treasure Planet style ships.

Luffy - Anaxdunamis

His species is known for its above average durability and strength. They can shrug off devastating blows like it's nothing and bounce back from it due their bodies being somewhat stretchy. If you pressed down on their skin, it would be tough, but have a little bit of give to it (like squeezing an eraser). Skin colors vary from orange, to pink, to red depending on the individual. Hair is very coarse and dark, it feels like a scrub brush. Their eyes are very dark, the pupils and irises are both pitch black and indistinguishable from each other (eyes do have whites). Carnivorous and have sharp teeth. Has four fingers on each hand. Relatively similar to humans in appearance in terms of anatomy. This species is considered ideal for being an Enforcer. 

Luffy himself has a light pink skin color (looks like a bad sunburn). Despite being carnivorous, he eats all kinds of food regardless. Luffy’s abilities far surpass the average member of his species. His body has more give and can stretch far beyond what it should be able to do. Possible hybrid but no one has been able to confirm it or come up with what the other species would be.

Zoro - Dynamikopis

A very bulky bipedal mammalian species with quills all over their bodies and slight snouts. Densest on the back, but are present along the arms too. No hair, just quills pointed back on head. Skin is tan (like pre time skip Zoro). Omnivorous, mostly eats meat but can also eat other things. His species hibernates for a few months out of the year due to their home planet having extremely harsh winters. Has three fingers on each hand with claws. Eyes have vertical pupils and are various shades of green or brown (like alligator eyes).

Zoro’s quills are a deep forest green color, and his eyes are a light brown. While Zoro doesn’t do the whole hibernation thing done on his home planet, he naps a lot to make up for it. His body is designed to store fat so he’s prone to having a bit of a dad bod. 

Nami

Human. 

Nami was abducted along with many other humans as an infant. The ship she was on was intercepted by pirates. The battle was brutal and ended with both ships being destroyed. A passing Enforcer ship came by, and when Bellemere (also human) found only two intact stasis pods left with Nami and Nojiko in them, she took off with them back to her home colony because she knew other Enforcers might try and sell them off.

Usopp - Savrasynkalypsis

Reptilian based species. Have a horn right above the nose, males typically have longer horns for display purposes. No hair, just some crests that point downwards around the head. Experts in camouflage, skin can change color to blend in with anything. The base skin color varies a lot depending on the environment the individual grew up in. Like most lizards, they have tails that can be dropped, but they do grow back. Primarily insectivores but occasionally eat plant based foods. Eyes are like that of a gecko including not having eyelids. Hands and feet have five digits on each and resemble chameleon feet.

Usopp’s horn is considered excessively long even by his species’ standards. Always wears a rag on his head and goggles to help protect his eyes. Despite his species not having finger pads to help climb smooth surfaces, he could climb a greased pole if he was scared enough. Drops his tail a lot, it’s usually a nub.

Sanji - Taornis

An avian inspired species. Not completely covered in feathers, flesh is exposed on the hands and feet. There are display feathers at the base of the neck that flare up for mating purposes (like peacocks). Tons of variety in colors for each individual, no two look identical to each other. They can fly but only for short distances. No hair, but there are longer feathers on their head that resemble hair. Feet are flat, not like birds of prey or anything. Omnivores, are capable of eating all types of food. They eat food raw. Have beaks. 

Sanji’s feathers are primarily blue with yellow and black highlights, beak is black. The display feathers on his neck have pink heart shapes on them. They flare up a lot. The longer feathers on his head are yellow and go down to his chin. These feathers typically stick up so this looks strange to others. Preens a lot, both with himself and any woman that will let him. His love for cooking is considered extremely odd by the rest of his species since they only eat raw food.

Chopper - Proteustarando

His species is known for consisting of the best shapeshifters in the universe. Their base forms resemble species of the cervidae family. The planet they’re from is bitterly cold, so they have thick, shaggy fur. Fur can be white, cream, light brown, or dark brown. All members have antlers regardless of gender. The antlers are very ornate and curly. Herbivores, but can eat other foods when they’re shapeshifting. 

Chopper is an outcast because while he can shapeshift to an extent, the transformations all still strongly resemble his base form. Fur is light brown with a cream colored tuft around his throat. The antlers are still pretty short due to how young he is.

Robin - Makrovotiarachne

A species once known for their immaculate record keeping that is extremely long lived. Members of this species have six arms and four eyes. The eyes are on the face where you would expect them to be, with one pair directly under the other. Their “hair” consists of very fine tendrils that resemble jellyfish tentacles. They assist with storing memory and controlling their multitude of limbs. If you were to run your hand through the “hair” it would feel like running your hand over a TV that was just turned off. Skin is various shades of blue and purple. Five fingers on each hand. The species is officially labeled as extinct after Enforcers annihilated them hundreds of years ago.

Robin is the last of her kind. There was a small colony hiding on an inhospitable planet, but after Enforcers caught wind of them being there, they were all killed with the exception of Robin who managed to slip away via evacuation pod as a child. All she wants is to find the old records and spread their knowledge to out whatever it is that the Enforcers wanted to hide. Her skin is a light purple (lilac) and has blue eyes. Her tendrils are a dark midnight blue.

Franky

A cyborg, originally human.

He remembers very little about Earth due to being abducted at a young age (5), but does have some memories of it. Definitely romanticizes it a little. His stasis pod was dropped accidentally and eventually drifted and crashed on Water 7. After the train incident, his body needed to be entirely replaced with robotic parts, nothing but his brain still remains from the original body. His appearance is much more visibly robotic compared to his One Piece design, but is still very similar in terms of anatomy.

Brook

Human infected with a parasite.

Brook was a member of a fairly well established human colony made up of people who were able to escape whatever they escaped from. He was already an adult when he was abducted and worked as a music teacher. Before he could be sold off, a group of human vigilantes took over the ship and freed everyone on board. Brook would ultimately go on to join this crew of vigilantes. During a patrol, they were sucked into a black hole and left in a destitute corner of the Grand Line Galaxy. The ship was unable to work after the black hole encounter, so all the members began dying off as resources got lower. Brook happened to be the last one still alive when a parasite slipped on board and found him. The parasite infects its host by latching onto the soul and feeding off it. It won’t affect your behavior or memories, only forces you to stay alive. Once you’re infected, you become virtually immortal. Brook wanted to join his crewmates, so he tried to starve it out, not knowing that it fed off his soul and not his body. Since the parasite only needs the soul to thrive, it is willing to let the body rot away if the host doesn’t maintain it. Over time, Brook became nothing but bones, but there are some dark tendrils from the parasite visible along his body. Still has his hair somehow.

Jinbei

Still a fishman, not much really changed. He’s a bit bigger and has eight eyes instead of two.

This AU is going to be a lengthy multichapter series because I’ve put too much thought into this for it to only be a oneshot.

[mostthingskenobi]

CASSIAN'S RECKONING - Chapter 17: The Absolution

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Both Jyn and Cassian carry a lot of pain and darkness… and they don't have to hide it from each other. Enjoy some meaningful fluff.

Just want to say thank you to the folks reading this fic <3 I hope you are enjoying it :)

READ THE FIC ON AO3

THIS IS A WHUMPY FIC W/GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS ON AO3.

——————–

CHAPTER 17: THE ABSOLUTION

He could hear her screaming.

The sound echoed off the star destroyer’s sterile walls and glossy black floor with a brittleness that stripped Cassian’s nerves.

He ran after her, down corridors, up stairs, through vaults. But she always disappeared around the next corner, dragged away by growling death troopers.

“Jyn!” He shouted her name over and over, running as fast as his exhausted legs would carry him, sweat beading on his brow and soaking through his shirt.

Her screams changed from frightened to desperate before abruptly stopping all together. The silence was more tormenting than the screams. He forced himself to run faster; he couldn’t let the Empire hurt her.

Cassian rounded the next corner and entered a dark hall, the walls black, the lights red and low. He skidded to a stop. There, at the end, stood Tarkin, his posture like a razor’s edge, hands behind his back, jaw jutting upward in a proud smirk.

On the floor between the Grand Moff’s feet was Jyn’s twisted and broken body. Blood seeped across the durasteel in a black pool.

“Come closer,” Tarkin demanded softly.

Cassian obeyed, taking slow, unsteady steps. The closer he got, the more Jyn came into focus. He knelt down and pulled her into his arms. He tried to wipe the blood from her face, tried to rouse her, tried to stop the dark wave of fear that threatened to swallow him whole. “Jyn,” he said gently, his voice breaking. Tears fell from his lashes onto her cheeks as he realized she was dead.

“She told us everything she knew.” Tarkin leered. “Her blood is on your hands.”

A massive explosion suddenly shook the ship. Instinctively, Cassian protectively pulled Jyn tighter against him before turning on his knees to see what had happened. His breath froze in his lungs as he watched the star destroyer dissolved, replaced by a salty sea lapping on a sandy shoreline. The horizon blazed with a churning orange cloud that came racing forward across the water, consuming, burning, vaporizing everything in its path.

He clutched Jyn’s limp body against his chest, too weak to resist fate any longer, burying his face in her hair. He wanted to scream; instead, he squeezed his eyes shut until the flames devoured them…

…Cassian gasped and bolted up, promptly smacking his face against the over-hanging bulkhead. The blow dropped him hard and fast. Groaning, he clasped his aching forehead as the nightmare receded. He had known all along it was a dream; the unfolding scenes had never tricked him into believing they were real. But that didn’t make it any less disturbing.

Desperation, fear, exhaustion ran loops in his head.

And Jyn, her blood smeared across his hands, dead, empty, cold.

He shook himself, forcing the lingering discomfort away, and threw his legs over the side of his bunk before walking to the locker. Popping it open he gazed at his reflection in the mirror on the back of the door as he pulled on a shirt and pants. He looked more tired now than before he had gone to sleep. He gingerly prodded his face where he’d struck it on the bed; a bruise was already forming. “Good work,” he muttered sarcastically. He slammed the locker shut and went in search of food.

——————–

Rogue Crew had started playing cards in the evenings right after Scarif. It had been a simple way to keep each other company on Yavin, to offer a safe place to escape the residual disquiet they each carried, a touchstone of normalcy. Cassian didn’t usually have the patience for games and he found cards particularly boring. But laughing with people he actually considered his friends was a rarity, so he had taken advantage of it as much as possible. He was grateful to revisit the tradition now aboard the Redemption.

The group had a box turned on its side for a table positioned between their racks. Jyn made space for Cassian to sit next to her on her bunk while everyone else dragged chairs around the box’s other edges. They played sabacc and sipped a cold, fermented ginger tea that Chirrut provided. For a few hours they were able to forget the Empire and war and death.

“What happened to your forehead?” Jyn asked as they played.

Cassian wasn’t embarrassed. Instead, he smiled. “I hit it on my rack.”

Bodhi winced.

“You must have a hard skull,” Baze said, totally serious.

Melshi, who occasionally joined the group and was present this evening, snorted into his glass.

“You’re lucky you didn’t kill yourself,” Bodhi said.

“Can you imagine? I survive prison, Scarif, and Tarkin only to kill myself getting out of bed.” It was the kind of dark humor they all shared.

They played until the hour grew late and only stopped when Cassian started yawning. The party broke ranks and, as he stood to leave, he caught Jyn’s eye. “You want to walk with me?” He felt Bodhi glance at them, listening in, so Cassian hurried to remove any inkling of something gossip-worthy. “I need you to bring me up to speed on the officers’ briefing I missed.”

“Sure. I’m heading up top,” Jyn said, rising to her feet. “I have to stop in the ready room to pick up orders.”

They moved through the rows of racks and maneuvered toward the corridor. “So, what did I miss?” Cassian asked.

“Nothing you don’t already know. The fleet is going to be in constant motion until a more permanent base can be found. They’ve been scouting locations for years, so there are some immediate possibilities. Brass is dispersing several teams tasked with making more comprehensive evaluations of these locations. We’ll be on standby until they return. No non-essential missions. Everyone is grounded until further notice.”

“Sounds boring and dangerous.”

“My thoughts exactly. When people get bored, they get sloppy.”

���Let’s just hope the Empire doesn’t find us.”

Jyn was suddenly uneasy. “The thought of the Empire attacking while we’re trapped on this ship terrifies me. We’d be sitting ducks; nowhere to run, no way to fight back.”

He realized she was talking about Rogue One and not the Alliance. For the first time possibly ever, she had a real sense of belonging and a found-family she wanted to protect. Cassian understood the alarm she felt; fear of loss had snapped at his heels his entire life.

“I used to think I was brave,” she carried on quietly, almost to herself, deep in thought. “But ever since Scarif, I feel like I’ve lost my nerve.”

“I don’t see that,” Cassian replied honestly.

“You don’t?”

“No. To me, you seem to have nerves of steel.”

“I wish I was more like you.”

That nearly stopped him in his tracks. “What do you mean?” he asked in disbelief.

“Every situation we’re in, you always seem to manage it. Nothing phases you, at least not for long. You have an uncanny ability to push on.”

Cassian suddenly felt very cold. “That’s what happens when you lose everything you’ve ever cared about,” he said darkly. “It changes your perspective on what’s tolerable.” He glanced at her. “You don’t think you’re like that? You’re not able to push on?”

She didn’t respond; her brain was sifting through a lifetime of memories.

“A woman who survived being abandoned, who lost her parents and her home; a woman who was cast out by Saw Gerrera only to end up being manipulated into helping the Alliance; a woman who risked her life to rescued a little girl in the Jedha streets and who climbed a burning-hot datatower to steal the Death Star plans?” He shook his head. “Jyn, you’re the strongest person I know.”

These observations meant more to her than Cassian would ever understand. Though she felt awkward accepting the compliment, she felt touched that he’d seen past what she showed on the surface. Even so, Jyn felt unworthy. “You didn’t see all the moments where I was weak, where I betrayed people to save my own skin.”

Their pace had slowed as they walked through the empty corridors.

He was quiet for so long Jyn worried she’d said the wrong thing, confessed too much, and now he was second guessing how he saw her. “We aren’t born strong,” he finally said quietly. “We’re made strong by our mistakes. Sometimes terrible things have to happen in order for us to find our potential.”

Cassian had told her a little about his past; she knew demons haunted them both. In her opinion, she had no right to judge people by their history, though she didn’t extend that courtesy to herself. Jyn knew what she was; a survivor, a rat. Cassian seemed ready to absolve her, but she wasn’t sure she could forgive herself yet. She’d been lost, walking a dark and lonely path, but seeing her father again, meeting Cassian and the rest of Rogue One, had righted her, had given her a light to follow in the storm. Galen Erso sacrificed himself for the greater good; Jyn wanted to be more like that and less like the tip of a spear that Saw Gerrera had made her.

“Strength isn’t the same as being brave,” she finally replied. “Fear brings out the worst in me. You never seem to be afraid. I wish I could be like that; I wish I was fearless.”

Cassian stopped walking and turned toward her. “I’m not fearless. I’m always afraid.” She looked up at him in disbelief. “Ever since I was a boy I’ve been afraid, but I don’t let fear keep me from taking action.”

They looked in each other’s eyes for a long time.

“I know you’re feeling a little exposed, a little unsafe; after everything that’s happened I’d expect nothing less. But that doesn’t mean you’re not brave,” he said. “I’ve never seen someone manage their fear like you.”

Jyn bit her lip and looked away. “There’s a moment I can’t get out of my head, where I pushed through, managed my fear. It’s a moment that made me hate myself.”

She didn’t elaborate so he asked, “When?”

“On Scarif. After you fell.” She curled in on herself, withdrawing from him. “I didn’t want to just leave you there.”

Cassian understood; being left behind, abandoned, discarded caused a pain in Jyn’s heart that might never be healed.

“You told me to keep going. I knew I had to. But I hated myself for it. Whether you were alive or dead, I was surrendering you to the Empire.”

“We had a job to do. We were fighting for something bigger than ourselves, something important.”

Her cheeks became hot, though she managed to remain composed. She looked up at him. “You’re important, Cassian.”

An expression flashed across his face that Jyn had never seen, something vulnerable and raw. She saw him catch his breath.

“Has no one ever told you that before?”

His eyes were fixed on her, his breathing heavy as he fought to control a sudden wave of emotion, his mouth turning down at the corners. Jyn had unknowingly hit a nerve. She stepped nearer and took hold of the front of his jacket.

“I’m nothing special,” he said, his voice dark and low.

“That isn’t true.”

He shrugged. “I’m just one person.”

Her grip constricted and she pulled him closer. “You are important. To the Rebellion, to Rogue Squad… to me.”

His gaze tightened, as though he were receiving kindness for the first time in his life and the experience was so overdue it pained him.

Jyn suddenly understood; he truly believed he was expendable because no one had ever told him otherwise. She cupped his face in her hands. “You’ve given so much of yourself. We all use you; we all take from your strength. It isn’t fair.” He gripped her wrists and leaned into her touch, needing the comfort. “You might tell yourself that you have nothing left to lose, so there’s no harm in risking your life for the cause. But I think it’s the opposite. You know the pain of loss so intimately that you sacrifice everything in the hopes of giving others the safety you never had.” His breathing had become shuddering rasps as her words cut through every piece of emotional armor he wore. “I’m proud of you, Cassian.”

He stiffened, fighting back feelings that threatened to overwhelm him.

Maarva’s final words rang in his ears, delivered to him in a dark sewer by his best friend Brasso, words layered with the forgiveness and absolution only a mother’s love could offer. Tell him, none of this is his fault. It was already burning, he’s just the first spark of the fire. Tell him, he knows everything he needs to know and feels everything he needs to feel. And when the day comes and those two pull together, he will be an unstoppable force for good. Tell him, I love him more than anything he could ever do wrong.

He had always lived by his own code. But the Empire’s never-ending ruthlessness had hardened Cassian over the years. Jyn had unwittingly made him look at himself with fresh eyes. At first, he hadn’t liked what he discovered. But, in a short period of time, she had reignited his sense of self, unintentionally reconnected him with who he wished he could be without the Empire looming over all existence. Cassian wanted to be strong without being brutal. He wanted to be brave without being callous. He wanted to thrive without desperation. If Jyn was proud of him, perhaps that meant he had begun achieving these small victories. They hadn’t known each other long, but she always made him feel seen, like he existed with more intensity now that she was in his life.

Cassian wrapped his arms around Jyn, pulling her body against him, his hands pressed across her back. All he wanted was to hold her, to feel safe, to disappear into a reality where Scarif and Tarkin and IT-O droids didn’t exist. Jyn responded instantly to his touch, pressing her cheek against his, almost sighing with relief as her arms went around his neck. He closed his eyes and thought, I love you more than anything you could ever do wrong.

——————–

END NOTES

NEXT CHAPTER IS CALLED “THE REACH” - Perhaps it's a proximity trope…but I don't care. It's my story and I can do what I want :) You're welcome.

Thank you for reading!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are very welcome!

Much love!

——————–

READ IT ON AO3- Kudos and Comments Welcome :-)

READ CHAPTER 1 “The Razor”

READ CHAPTER 2 “The Scythe”

READ CHAPTER 3 “The Cold”

READ CHAPTER 4 “The Expendable”

READ CHAPTER 5 “The Truth”

READ CHAPTER 6 “The Detritus”

READ CHAPTER 7 “The Salt”

READ CHAPTER 8 “The Power”

READ CHAPTER 9 “The Betrayal”

REACH CHAPTER 10 “The Ruse”

READ CHAPTER 11 “The Reprieve”

READ CHAPTER 12 “The Ghosts”

READ CHAPTER 13 “The Redemption”

READ CHAPTER 14 “The Spoils”

READ CHAPTER 15 “The Interrogation”

READ CHAPTER 16 “The Rogues”

READ CHAPTER 17 "The Absolution"

READ CHAPTER 18 “The Reach”

READ CHAPTER 19 “The Hologram”

READ CHAPTER 20 “The Divide”

READ CHAPTER 21 “The Cost”

[storyofmychoices]

Cloud Watching

[Beckett Harrington x Emma Carlyle Masterlist] 

Pairing: Beckett Harrington x Emma Carlyle (F!MC) Book: The Elementalists 2 Word Count: ~1,000 Rating/Warnings: general, none Submitting to: @choicesaprilchallenge24: Clouds ; @choicesficwriterscreations FotW; @choicesbookclub TE2

Synopsis: Emma tries to teach Beckett to cloud watch.

"Despite the slight distraction-" His cheeks flushed red as his gaze drifted to her lips. He swallowed hard and continued. He took a step forward, following the path back to the dorms. "I think we can say this was quite a productive study session."

Emma's gaze softened as she watched him process the academic merit of successfully completing the cloud shape-shifting spell. And yet, she couldn't help but wonder if he was missing something more important entirely. 

"Haven't you ever just lied back on the soft grass on a sunny day and just watched the clouds drift by?" Emma held her finger up, quieting his reply before continuing, "-without magick?"

"What would the value of such an activity be?" His brows knitted together as he questioned the notion. 

"To enjoy the beauty of nature."

"I suppose we could discuss the types and classifications of clouds and how they form. Nevertheless, that's rather elementary knowledge." He adjusted his blazer. "Knowing how to manipulate them and bend the air and water vapor to your specifications and designs takes far more knowledge and control."

"You're such a nerd." She shook her head gently. "Not everything has to be about learning or gaining knowledge of information. Some things can be for fun or to relax."

"Did you not have fun shaping the clouds?" A frown fell on his features. To him, mastering a new spell was the perfect amount of fun. It was productive and efficient without any of the more frivolous aspects of fun that caused others to lose control.

"It was fun, but sometimes, just pausing to breathe and enjoy the moment without anything other than nature's own magic is something special." Her gaze shifted to the heavens, letting the sun warm her face. A soft smile spread across her features. "Do you trust me?" Her attention returned to him. 

"You need not ask for you know the answer is always." The tips of his ears turned pink despite his attempts to compose himself in her presence. 

She held her hand to him, lacing their fingers with his. "Follow me."

Emma guided him off the path and across the quad, finding a spot where the grass was just right, not too short where it would be scratchy and uncomfortable or too long where it might threaten to tickle their skin with the breeze. "Perfect." 

She sat on the soft ground, patting the surface for him to sit beside her. Despite his hesitance in getting his khaki pants grass-stained, he complied with her request. 

"Now, lay back on the grass and just look at the clouds." Emma led by example, reclining on the quad. Her eyes fluttered closed as she breathed in the fresh air and the scent of the wildflowers dancing in the breeze. 

She opened her eyes to find Beckett very much in the same seated position. Her eyes narrowed at him, insisting he follow suit. 

"But my blazer!" His eyes widened in horror.

"Take it off if you must, but you're not getting out of this, Harrington. If anyone needs to learn how to cloud-watch, it's you!"

He grumbled slightly, though his eyes betrayed the sentiment. He mirrored her pose. "Okay, now that I'm lying in the dirt, what is it that I am supposed to do?"

"Just watch the clouds."

"Watch them for what?" 

"Just watch how they move. How slowly. How swiftly. Do they dance across the sky? What can you see in them? Can you make shapes? animals?—without magick!"

Beckett propped himself up on his elbow, looking over to her with great skepticism. "Is this some sort of tuneless prank?"

"Not a prank."

"So this is something tuneless people do for enjoyment?"

"Some. Others miss the point."

"I must admit that I might be one of them."

Emma sighed before breathing in again, refusing to give up so quickly. She shimmied closer to him, resting her head against his. "See, that one there—" Lifting her arm toward the sky, she pointed toward a fluffy cloud. "—that one's a bunny." 

Beckett suppressed the urge to protest. Squinting at the cloud in question, he turned his head to the left, then to the right, trying to see what she saw. "I suppose... if you squint and tilt your head like this, it is uh—vaguely...resembling of a rabbit..." He couldn't stop his analytical mind. "But, from a scientific perspective, clouds are formed by the condensation of water vapor in the atmosphere. Any thought that they form particular shapes is just the human mind searching for meaning. Cloud formation is dependent on temperature, humidity, and air currents." His voice trailed away as the potential of the air magick sparked at his fingertips. "Can't you feel the atmosphere all around us? The air currents pulling in the sky, forming the clouds, shaping them into what they are and could be?"

Emma laughed softly, brushing a kiss on his head. "I love your beautiful brain, but let's focus on trying to bring out your imagination." Her hands drew out a rainbow in front of her head. She knew he wouldn't understand the tuneless reference, but she had seen the meme too many times for her to say the word without the accompanying gesture. 

His lips twitched up. "I admire your persistence." He pulled her closer.

Emma rested her head on his shoulder. "Try again." She searched the sky, pointing to the next one. "There. See. Right there, that one is a dragon."

His gaze flickered to her, watching as her face illuminated with wonder. He nodded, squinting as he followed where she gestured. He let the sun warm his face and nodded slowly. "If I squint and... turn my head...and—" 

"It's okay." She snuggled into him, giggling at the steady concentration drawing almost painstakingly across his face. "You get an A for effort, Mr Harrington." 

"OOo!" Her attention was captured again by the sky. "Now, it looks like it's breathing fire! ICE fire!"

"Ice fire?" His brow arched, amusement dancing on his lips. "I suppose that isn't entirely inaccurate. The clouds are made of ice crystals!"

"At least we can agree on something." 

The pair relaxed on the quad, letting the sun caress their skin. With each gentle breeze, the clouds above shifted and danced, creating new shapes and designs for Emma to decipher, reminding Beckett of the magic that could be found in even the simplest moments of life.

A/N: Emma loves Spongebob. Once she learns a spell to make a rainbow, she'll be doing this all day and no one will get it but her and Atlas, because she introduced Atlas to Spongebob and she binged the first few seasons without pausing to sleep!

[waynes-multiverse]

Midnight Mischief

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F!Reader

Summary: Leaving Cassie’s Halloween party, the way home leads to a thrilling detour under the moonlight for Sheriff Arlen.

Warnings: +18, some Halloween shenanigans, fluff, smut (p in v, dirty talk, semi-public)

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Little something for Halloween I wrote a few weeks ago to feed my shameless obsession with this man (and keep my excitement for Taylor’s album in check. The Cinderella thing was a happy accident 👀). Enjoy and happy Halloween, my loves! 💜👻🖤🎃

Main Masterlist || More Beau?

“Y/N, wait!”

The cold October wind rustles the red, orange, and golden leaves on the sidewalk, the freezing breeze brushing his skin and stinging his freckle-dusted cheeks and nose until they blush crimson. As Beau halts in the middle of the sidewalk and desperately catches his breath on his knees, the air vaporizes in little clouds of mist as it leaves his hot lungs.

Straightening up and placing his hands on his hips, his green eyes roam the chaotic crowd of adults and children in costumes that surround him, strolling through the neighborhood on their annual trick-or-treating adventure as he looks for the lively woman in a red cape that shamelessly stole his heart. His gaze drifts to the sky, where the full moon stands high, accompanied by a few gray clouds that cover the pale yellow light. They left the party shortly after the clock struck twelve, his date fleeing like Cinderella into the midnight’s shadows.

“BOOOOO!”

Beau startles and almost topples to the pavement when his girlfriend jumps out behind a row of hedges and wraps her arms like a spider around his body. The sweet laughter that reaches his ears is the best sound he’s ever heard in the entire world. If his life had its own movie soundtrack, Y/N’s happy laugh would be the first track without contest. The second track, though, would be her little moans whenever he makes her come, no matter if it’s on his fingers, tongue, or dick. Naturally, that’s his second favorite sound.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N,” he chuckles and runs a palm over his face to hide the temporary shock and embarrassment of her little sneak attack before dipping his head and claiming her lush lips. His tongue catches hints of apple cider and the bourbon they shared earlier at Cassie’s Halloween party as he drinks the taste from her mouth like a parched man. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack, darlin’.”

She giggles, her dimples a blush pink from the cold and the mischief. “You scare pretty easy for someone working in law enforcement,” she teases him and lifts an eyebrow, scanning his tall frame, “I can’t believe you wore your uniform to the party. You know, that doesn’t technically count as a costume.”

“Why not? I’m going as a sheriff,” he quips with a grin and slings his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to his chest to keep her warm as they continue their stroll home.

“Exactly. That doesn’t count. You’re always the sheriff,” she laughs, pulling her scarlet hood a little more over her head to protect her freezing ears.

“Well, it wouldn’t have mattered. As soon as you revealed that Red Riding Hood costume, no one was looking at me anymore, anyways,” Beau smirks smugly, his juniper orbs twinkling with pride, mischief, and lust as he inconspicuously ogles the swell of her breasts in his periphery, the smooth flesh slightly spilling out of her dress.

Her cheeks blush, but this time it’s not caused by the winter cold. Y/N pulls her lower lip between her teeth and chews flirtatiously on it, “Yeah? You like it?”

Beau lets out a low chuckle, the timbre of his voice rumbling in his chest as he stops and leans closer to her, his hot breath warming the shell of her ear when he whispers, “Oh, the big, bad wolf will show you how much he loved it once we’re home, darlin’.”

Her arms wind around his neck, letting her weight comfortably hang from his broad shoulders as she tiptoes up to his eye level. Y/N then playfully contemplates and grins broadly, “Hmmm, but why wait? A lot can happen in the woods.”

With that, she plants a wet kiss on his lips and grabs his hand, his fingers interlocking with hers as she leads him further down the street at a hurried pace. Beau doesn’t care where she takes him. As soon as he laid eyes on that girl the second they met, he knew he’d follow her anywhere, no matter where – no questions asked.

Well, some questions asked.

“Y/N, uhm, where are-… what are you-…” Leading him to the last house on the street that borders a small forest, she stops right next to a prohibitive sign that’s supposed to fend off trespassers and daringly opens the creaking wooden gate that leads to the backyard. “Y/N, this is private property. We can’t just trespass.”

“Oh my God, you’re such a goody-two-shoes,” Y/N snorts, laughing wholeheartedly, her hood sliding off her head as it dips back. Her teeth hold back her bottom lip, hiding the giant grin behind it as she defiantly steps backward into the front yard. “C’mon, baby, don’t be a chicken. Break the law a little with me,” she wiggles her eyebrows, smirking, and then loosens the ties around her ruby-red hood, the fabric leaving her shoulders and gliding to the wilted grass underneath her boots.

His heart thumps harder in his ribcage, hot blood pumping through his veins and warming his skin despite the freezing cold as his eyes rake over her perfect curves. Beau thought it was impossible to sweat in this weather, but now he knows that truly anything is possible as long as he’s with her. His pine-green orbs watch as she hops into the grown-over garden and disappears in the midnight darkness behind the building, her hips seductively swaying with every chipper step.

The home looks abandoned, rotten wood boards nailed across the windows without a single light source inside, tall grass and wild weeds reaching his knees. There’s an audible bang as the wind eerily slams a brittle window shutter, causing several shudders to run down his spine and form goosebumps on his skin.

Y/N loves to tease her boyfriend whenever she can. Beau is like a little treasure chest full of charm, happiness, and sweetness, and while his happy-go-lucky attitude fools most people, it never fools her. She knows he constantly worries about everything – but especially when he tries to hide it from her. While Beau might talk about his punch list openly, there’s an even bigger list he carries around in secret – his care list. Because Beau loves nothing more than to worry about all the things he cares with his heart and soul about – his job, his deputies, his friends, his daughter, and now even her. Y/N can see it in the brief moments when his smile falters for the shortest second, when his Adam’s apple bobs with concern whenever he assumes no one is looking, or when the usually talkative sheriff only offers one-word replies. While he would never admit to it and always brushes any worries of hers away, she still knows precisely when he’s anxious.

And this particular night, the protective father in him is worried because Emily is attending her first Halloween party, so Y/N has taken it upon herself to distract her boyfriend’s mind as best as she can. Nudity has always been the biggest selling point so far, and she knows it won’t fail her tonight, either.

Waiting patiently for him behind the house under a big oak tree, Beau soon rounds the corner with a curiously arched eyebrow, not able to resist her challenge as he plants his bow legs in front of her. “You little minx,” he smiles, happy wrinkles visible around his emerald orbs, and pecks her lips lovingly, their fingers interlacing. “You know, we could get arrested if someone catches us.”

“Starting with the dirty talk already, huh?” Y/N knows no one in this town will arrest them. One, the house has been empty since she was a child, the owners living in Nebraska now and not having visited their property in over a decade. And two, even if someone catches them, no one would care because the couple is beloved by everyone in town. So, the only thing Beau truly needs to fear is the endless teasing by Poppernak and Jenny if they do find him trespassing with his pants down, which is still a highly unlikely scenario.

Beau chuckles softly, shaking his head, “Your clean record really surprises me every time, darlin’.”

“Honestly, me too,” she grins slyly, her arms locking around his neck as she claims his plump lips, catching scents of caramel, apple, cinnamon, and chocolate. Beau always had a sweet tooth, so she wasn’t surprised when he loaded up on Denise’s spooky cookie selection throughout the night until he was close to puking. “Guess I’m good at getting out of things… or was it into things?” she muses in mock, her hand trailing down his broad chest until it reaches his slacks and palms his half-hard dick through the fabric. The longer she rubs his solid length and feels his weight and firmness in her palm, the more arousal pools between her aching thighs in anticipation.

“Shit,” Beau mutters as he loses his bearings. Y/N grins in triumph. Making a strong, proud, and tall guy like him crumble and lose his posture repeatedly might have become her favorite pastime activity since they started dating.

Surrendering, he catches her scarlet lips, his hat falling to the ground as he devours her mouth, tongue breaching inside with urgency and dancing with hers for dominance. His palms wander down to the globes of her ass and squeeze the juicy flesh over her skirt before he lifts her into his strong arms, her legs reflexively wrapping around his waist. Pressing her body firmly against the trunk of the big oak, he ceases his attack on her kiss-swollen, red-painted lips, breaths leaving their lungs in a ragged rhythm. “Alright, you win. But it’s gonna be a quickie. You’ll get your bad girl treatment once we actually make it home, baby girl.”

Knowingly, Y/N lets out an amused laugh, “Scared the neighbors will hear the slapping?”

“You bet your ass,” Beau chuckles with a smug wag of his eyebrows, the sound of his laugh so sweet and velvety it warms her heart as if someone poured a glass of milk and honey over it. His hand tenderly brushes a few rogue strands of hair behind her ear, his green eyes piercing into her soul and causing her to shudder as he looks at her intensely. “I love you… with everything I got, which I know isn’t a lot.”

Y/N smiles softly and pecks the tip of his freckled nose, her arms around his neck tightly holding onto him, chained for eternity. “Are you kidding me? I love you so goddamn much… And I love everything you give me, which is plenty, by the way. You’re all I ever wanted. It’s like someone built you just for me, y’know?”

The corners of his mouth curve up into a smile that matches hers, “Yeah, I feel the same about you, darlin’.” He kisses her lips, nibbles on the bottom one and sucks it between his teeth before placing more wet kisses down her jaw and throat until tongue and lips reach her pulse point, the gruff beard deliciously scratching her sensitive skin. “I can’t tell you how many times a day I think about this perfectly tight pussy of yours either, sweetheart. How wet are you already for me, hm?”

Dear fucking God…

Beau is much like a bear in some regard because he’s the sweetest and cuddliest man she’s ever met until she wakes him from his hibernation. Then, he will just ferociously follow the luring scent of his honey pot and take what’s his, not leaving a single drop for anyone else. Not even bear spray could get him off her now.

“Soaking, baby,” she mewls and grinds her crotch against his throbbing erection, imagining how his tip is already swollen and dripping precum for her, his salty taste always causing her to drool. “Please fuck me now. Wanna feel that thick, long cock fuck me hard and deep.”

Beau growls wantonly against her skin, his face buried in the crook of her neck, the vibrations causing the ache between her thighs to yearn for more friction. Their limbs then entangle in a frenzy, trying to shed all annoying barriers of clothing that block their treasure while still attempting to keep enough on to protect them from the freezing temperatures. The sheriff manages to free his massive cock, pants and boxers pooling by his boots as he quickly fists his length. Y/N has it a little easier, only wearing a dress and a pair of over-knee stockings, and simply pushes her black lace panties out of the way with her fingers, their bodies pushed flush against each other to keep them as warm as possible.

It’s so incredibly cold that Beau is even a little worried the solidity of his dick might suffer, but those worries are soon hushed when he enters her cozy heat, her hot cunt keeping him warm like a chimney fire. Threading his cock through her slick, the tip catches her wet and waiting entrance before he swiftly slides inside until he’s buried at the deepest spot of her pussy. Grunts, gasps, and whisper-quiet expletives are picked up by the wind and carried around the quaint garden as he fucks her relentlessly.

“Oh God… So good, baby. You always fuck me so good… always know how to take care of me,” she pants deliriously as he splits her almost in two. The stretch of his length forces her fingers to weave into his blond locks and tug on the strands until he groans against her skin. His teeth tear into her ample bottom lip in response, aware how much he loves the bits of pain in his pleasure as her fingernails scrape his scalp. “Fuck, I love that cock of yours. Every inch of you fills every inch of me, baby.”

“Shit, Y/N,” he mutters and hungrily claims her lips, his hips bucking at a faster pace and making each rough and deep thrust deliciously harder, the tight grip on her body leaving finger-shaped bruises on her delicate skin in their wake. “That filthy mouth is gonna make me bust, baby girl.”

“Don’t care. Right behind you,” she moans, her back arching against the tree trunk and scratching on the rough surface. “Might wanna cover my mouth if you’re still worried about the neighbors. Feels like a big one,” she croaks out with a panting smirk and manages to bite down on her tongue herself till she tastes bits of copper, her walls tightening around his hard cock as her orgasm threatens to spill.

“Nah, fuck ‘em. Better make sure the town knows you’re all mine, darlin’,” Beau grunts into her neck, a devilish smirk forming against her skin as he roughly kneads one tit and adjusts his angle to push even deeper. “Want you to soak my cock in your juices. Make him wet, sweetheart. Wanna feel that cunt tremble around me.”

“Oh God, Beau! Fuck, baby,” she moans loudly as she falls over the cliff into a sea of bliss, her climax rippling through every inch of her body and flooding her veins with mountains of oxytocin as she tightly holds onto him.

Beau quiets her moans with a few needy kisses, licking her sweet taste from her mouth. Four stuttering slams of his hips are all it takes until he shoots hot ropes of cum into her leaking pussy, painting her confines a creamy white as he stiffens between her thighs and lets his forehead fall against hers, a primal and deep grunt escaping his dry throat.  

Y/N softly wakes him from his daze by nudging his nose with hers, a broad smile molding into shape on her pink lips. “See? Breaking the law isn’t always bad.”

Beau snorts, chuckling, and tenderly caresses the rose-colored apples of her cheeks with his thumb. “Uh-huh, I’ll remember that one for the Christmas speech this year. Luckily, there wasn’t a ‘no trespassing’ sign on you, darlin’.”

“Oh, there will never be one when it comes to you, Sheriff Arlen,” she grins cheekily and tastes his mouth one last time before the pair finally embarks on their journey home.

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[ktsaysthings]

never an absolution

“Don’t come any closer,” she shouts, so he doesn’t. “Here, just—just give me your hand,” he tries. “I’ll pull you back over.” She glances at him again, the force of a hurricane behind her gaze. “I said stay back.” Titanic AU. jiara week day 5 - based on a book/movie/show

Read on ao3.

JJ doesn’t believe in luck. Never has.

He’s sure it’s a real thing that exists somewhere. Just not for him.

Instead, he makes his own.

Luck is the bottle of Jack left on the table to keep his dad’s hands from curling into fists. Luck is the stolen coins that keep him alive when he finally makes it to London. Luck is the ace of hearts hidden up his sleeve when he goes all in for a ticket on Titanic.

JJ doesn’t believe in fate any more than he believes in luck. He can’t, because fate would have him follow in his father’s footsteps—a deadbeat drunk with nothing to live for besides a good fight and his next drink.

Fate is the curse of his name, the scourge passed to him by his father and his father before that. Fate is what he picked up and ran from the moment his father’s body was in the ground.

He ran north from his little fishing town in North Carolina, working his way up the coast, surviving only by odd jobs and manual labor. Boston was fun, at first, until he ran out of money and every day was just backbreaking work and drugs and booze. Until he looked in the mirror and saw the empty eyes and split knuckles of his father.

Paris turned him into a thief, forcing his hand when he couldn’t seem to hold a job or find a place to sleep. Every penny felt like a piece of his past, the shame burning a hole in his pocket until he had just enough for a hot meal and a bed.

When thievery became too heavy, he ran to London, only picking pockets when he couldn’t sell the words in his own, handwritten poems and stories from his childhood, scribbled down under a bridge or on a park bench late at night.

On occasion, someone would actually read the little papers he shoved in their faces, and he’d be struck with confidence, like maybe he could escape his destiny, like maybe his words meant something, like maybe he meant something. But then he’d wake under the stiff sheets of a bed that wasn’t his, next to a woman he didn’t love, and he’d be reminded—JJ Maybank can never amount to anything.

No matter how far he runs, the dark, looming cloud of his future is always trailing behind him. As hard as he tries to be different, he is his father’s son. He lies and he cheats and he steals and he fights his way through life.

In his more optimistic moments, JJ thinks about his mother, who she could have been, or if she left any part of herself for him. He was barely a kid when she left, but he remembers she had kind eyes. Bright and blue, just like his.

His knuckles are still bruised from a barfight in London and the three-day-old split in his lip hasn’t quite faded, but when he looks in the tiny mirror of this third-class cabin, his mother’s eyes stare back at him, and that gives him hope.

The cabin is small, barely enough room to maneuver around the other three men he’s bunking with, so he lingers on the well deck late into the night, sprawled across a bench while he watches the stars peek through puffs of his vaporous breath.

It’s cold, so he fishes his last cigarette out of his pocket, igniting it with an expert flick of his lighter. He only takes one drag before a blur of red flies by in his periphery.

When he sits up, he sees it’s a girl, holding up the skirts of her red gown as she sprints across the deck. She stops short at the stern, leaning over the railing, staring at the water below.

He’s about to turn away—it’s not his business what first class women do on this ship—but she steps onto the railing, slow and shaky, climbing up and over until she’s hanging onto the other side. His feet are moving before he even realizes what’s happening.

“Um, excuse me, miss,” he says, hands held high in surrender, daring a step towards her.

She whips her head around at the sound of his voice. Her dark curls blow wild in the wind, some rogue wisps sticking to the tear tracks on her cheeks. Her grip on the railing turns her knuckles white.

“Don’t come any closer,” she shouts, so he doesn’t.

“Here, just—just give me your hand,” he tries. “I’ll pull you back over.”

She glances at him again, the force of a hurricane behind her gaze. “I said stay back.”

Read the rest on ao3!