#because they were angry about the political atmosphere of the time

[real-artemis]

the annoying thing about ska fans is that they're so optimistic that they'll completely forget about everything that happened in the ska scene before they were alive. its getting better with the 4th wave nowadays but damn...the 90s kids ONLY remember the 90s...

[clare-875]

Wait, I'm Sorry (Gojo Satoru x Reader)

_____ Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader Summary: You get hurt after an argument. Warnings: Angst/Fluff, descriptions of injury, some swearing, Gojo being kind of unreasonable in the beginning, canonical violence Notes: The above image does NOT belong to me, Female Reader [JJK Masterlist] _____

The atmosphere was tense within your home. You hated it, you hated feeling the trepidation churn in your chest as you watched silently Gojo's unusually rigid form. You are standing as you look at him sitting on the living room sofa and his sharp eyes glowing with his anger. They are trained purposefully on the ground before him, like he hadn't just spat cruel words at you. Suddenly, the lovely evening that was supposed to be spent felt heavy with the built-up tension. Suddenly, the beautiful dress you picked up and the makeup you perfected on your face was ruined with tears and the angst of the evening. What had happened? What had happened to the compliments on your form earlier that evening, the words "stunning," "beautiful," and "love" whispered in your ear. What had happened to his arm wrapped around your waist as he took you on your weekly date? What happened to the flowers that still lay within a vase, your favourites, ones he had given you mere hours ago. Why was he being so cruel now, because of something you couldn't control.

"Satoru, I'm telling you, you're overreacting." Your voice is sullen now as your tears make exhaustion creep up on you after the half-hour spent now arguing. "He was just-" Satoru's eyes are narrowed as they turn to you quickly, and your heart drops at the sight of his irritation. It was a sight of anger you never had seen pointed at you, and you felt sadness creep up at the fact that now you knew what it was like; what it was like to have the 'strongest's' eyes look at you in a way that didn't reflect love and devotion. "You didn't see him [y/n]! He was basically undressing you with his eyes in front of me!" You groan now sharp irritation ringing in the back of your head at the same scenario brought back and forth. "And what did you do?! You fucking smiled at him!" Your body is now consumed with rage as you turn to your boyfriend and his incessant words, his blunt and stubborn reasoning. "Yes Satoru, I smiled because he was our fucking WAITER, and he was being polite!"

Satoru rolls his eyes.

"You know what, I'm done." You turn, lips tugging downward at his childishness that returns when he can't see reason past his daftness. "Come get me when you actually want to have an adult conversation about this." You gather your purse and make a beeline for the door, but Satoru's eyes are still trained on you angrily. "[y/n], I'm not done with-" You turn to him sharply then, your own anger and disappointment seeping into your gaze, seeping into his eyes. "I'm done." With that, you slam the door closed and you leave Satoru looking wide-eyed at the spot you just were. He feels an unfamiliar grip on his chest as he looks at the lack of you now in his home following the lack of a beautiful evening. But Satoru can't help it. Even if it had all been in his mind and even if he had taken it too far, all he imagines are his eyes looking at you with a spark of desire he knew too well. All he saw was his smirk, one that rose subtly enough so that only Satoru could see. All he saw was your angelic smile pointed at him like his thoughts were shrouded with the mere innocence of pouring you another drink. So, Satoru stays put despite his body telling him to get you before you leave.

But he remembers your eyes, angry and disappointed.

You, on the other hand, make your way to Shoko's place and she is surprised when she sees your tear-stained face at her doorway but ushers you in. "What did Gojo do this time?" Her eyes are narrowed as she thinks of the white-haired man, so undeserving of you, or at least in her mind he was. You wipe your eyes quickly and shake your head letting out a long sigh. "It was so stupid." You mutter disbelievingly at the ceiling as Shoko nods her head in grim understanding. "Well, you're welcome to stay the night, you know that." You smile gratefully at your best friend as you nod slowly. "Thanks, Shoko." She grins half-heartedly as you watch her go back into the depths of her home and see the swipe of her hand as she pulls out a cigarette, leaving you be. However, when you got yourself ready to go to bed that night, you slept terribly and he did too. You hated it; the lack of his warm arms and the cheesy lines he'd say before bed. He hated it; the lack of your sweet words and your loving gaze lulling him to sleep. He would apologise in the morning, he thought to himself.

But he never got the chance.

You were awoken to a call early in the morning and your eyes were weary as they shot to your bright phone in the depths of the dark dawn. You half expected it to be Satoru, but when you look, you see that it is a number retained for your work. Sure enough, when you pick up, it is for a job to exorcise a grade-two curse causing a reign of terror in a nearby abandoned hospital. You were a semi-grade one sorcerer and the only one with an apt grade who was free for the day. You sigh heavily and despite thinking you would have the day free, you decide that maybe you could use a win. So, you leave a note for Shoko thanking her and asking her to inform Satoru if she has the chance. Then, you quickly make your way to the Jujutsu High School for your uniform and further details. However, when you finally do make it to the abandoned hospital in the early shine of the rising sun, you notice instantly that something is wrong. You feel it brimming within the atmosphere, an untold power, an untold curse that felt too strong to be a second-grade curse. But before you can contemplate the situation further. A curse appears from the depths of the floor.

You quickly ready your weapon and soon, there is a multitude of smaller curses building upon smaller ones, gurgling incoherently and its disfigured form towering over you. You grit your teeth but ready your cursed technique. This wasn't the one you were worried about. You dodge an incoming attack and strike your weapon, but you defeat the curse after only a small number of attacks. Soon, all that is left is a muddle of its remains slowly disappearing into the floor, but this was all too easy. You know the fight's not over, and you are right. "Help me." You turn quickly at the sound of a child's voice in the barren hallway, your eyes sparking wildly at the trembling of it. The reports said nothing about hostages. "Help me, please." You start to run swiftly through the cool corridors left with built-up mould and cracks. You follow the voice as it calls out to you louder now, more rapidly.

Thinking back, you really should have been a bit more weary.

As you rip open a door, the sound of the child reaches your ears and your eyes spot a small young girl with teary eyes and soft blond hair looking at you desperately. "Please, please help me." Your eyebrows furrow at her form slightly dirty and eyes that reflect despair. "It's okay," your voice now reaches the air as you slowly approach her from the door cautiously. "Everything's going to be ok-" You are slammed into the wall from your side so rapidly that you can't even react. For a moment you're confused, and then you feel the pounding of your head and the gut-wrenching scream you stifle in your throat at the pain. The pain that now seeps through your body. Your mind whirls and your vision sways as you desperately try to get a grip on your reality, but your form is betraying you. "Help me." Your eyes go to the girl that had been in front of you but you watch wide-eyed as she disappears from sight. More like, she had never been there in the first place. It was all a trick of your mind, a hallucination put in place by the curse that looms in the corner of the room before you.

A special grade curse.

Your breath comes in rapidly as you watch it smile wickedly at you, and you groan as it slowly approaches you as you wrestle yourself from the floor and try to move. But you are too slow. The curse lets out an intolerable blow and you feel yourself break through walls and you feel your blood start to mingle atop your skin. Your vision blurs from nothing to the blurry scene of the special grade curse slowly approaching you. I'm dead. Your mind buzzes and you feel your eyes slowly start to lose their will to be kept open. I'm so dead. I couldn't even do a single thing... Your mind then flashes to a pair of bright blue eyes, to the smile you adore. Satoru... what would he say? You groan as your breath shakes at the weight of your injuries. You then feel your hands reach for your phone and you are surprised to see it unshattered after the multiple hits you undertook. You press the speed dial and bring it shakily to your ear as you watch your death approach you. It rings once, it rings twice, and then you hear it, his voice, so comforting it almost makes you cry.

"[y/n]?"

There is silence as your heart thrums faster at the impending defeat that looms and you say two words that you never thought you would say so bluntly to your boyfriend, even when every day he swore to keep you safe. "Satoru." Satoru's eyes are wide when he hears your stuttered gasps and the strain in your voice as though you were in pain; you are in pain. His heart pounds erratically and he knows instantly there's something horribly wrong. "[y/n]! What's wrong?! What's happening?!" Your mind slowly starts to turn dull as you can't even keep your eyes focused on the curse that comes before you. "Save me." With that, your phone falls limp to the floor and you don't hear the screaming that takes place from within it, or see how Gojo almost loses his mind. But as your mind whirrs and you see the building power of another cursed technique before you, your thoughts are only of him. So as consciousness fades and you finally let yourself delve into peace, you think it is a final blessing, a rare kindness of the curse when you see a flash of white hair and movements you could recognise from anywhere.

Because it has to be another hallucination.

You feel it then, arms wrapping around you and words shrouded with grief. "Baby, please, wait, I'm sorry." He blabbers and his crystal eyes are broken in his tears. "[Y/N]!"

The Gojo Satoru sobbing over the top of you, what a beautiful sight to die to.

.....

You hear it first before you see it. Pain. But it wasn't yours. There is a steady beep in the background and though your eyes are closed you wonder if life had actually gifted you more of it. You hear the steady rise and fall of your chest and you feel the steady squeeze of your hand.

You hear unsteady words, murmuring with loss.

It had been years since Shoko had seen his crystal eyes so broken as he turned to you, endless streams of tears tearing away his usual composure. His gaze is wide and full of fear so unnatural it makes even her, unbearably uncomfortable. "Gojo I know you're worried but you need to leave you can't be-" She is cut off when he looks sharply at her, form taut with dread and trauma. "Shoko, I-I can't what if she, what if she doesn't-" Shoko sighs as she looks at him and finds her own heart constricting when she looks at your seemingly unconscious form resting from injuries she had worked tirelessly to heal. Shocked was an understatement to how she felt when Gojo brought you in battered, bleeding, bruised; almost dead.

"When she wakes up, come get me."

With that, Shoko leaves with a pack of cigarettes in her hand, already blowing on one before she even reaches the door. Unbeknownst to them, you are trying desperately to move. Amid the quiet of the room, all you hear are the murmured words of your boyfriend; the 'strongest' begging you to come back to him. You finally succeed when you lightly squeeze against his hand and your eyes flutter open to unbearable light. "[y/n]..." Satoru's tired eyes are on you instantly and you meet his gaze with a half-smiling, half-grimacing regard. "Hey, S-Satoru." He moves up from his seat abruptly and wraps you around him tightly. His infinity is off as he desperately tries to feel you alive and well beneath him. "Satoru... l-life-threatening injury..." You wheeze out as his gaze widens before quickly releasing you of his form, still drowning in relief. However, as he breathes in the reality of you, a flash of realisation seems to hit him. "[y/n], I'm sorry, I let you go after a stupid argument, and if I didn't maybe then-" He starts to ramble; Gojo Satoru is lost for words. You stare at him; eyebrows furrowed, gaze adverting.

You look at the trembling of his hands.

"Satoru," you call out to him and see the rare seriousness that encompasses his gaze and the questioning look in his eyes as he turns to you. You know of his past; you lived it with him. So, you know how much this all may have impacted him. "It's okay," you say breathlessly before you feel a slight pounding in your head making you lean back down. "It was just all so stupid," you then reach for his hand once more and Gojo returns your grip quickly, his crystal gaze on you. They were filled with worry and apprehension, but they were filled with love and devotion once more; all for you. "Thank you, for saving me." You whisper and you finally see the slight upturn of his lips as he looks to you upon your bed. But you also see the severity of the worry and dread he held onto. "Don't do that again," was his only reply. You smile at him teasingly as you reach out to wipe away any remaining tears. He then leans forward slightly and cups your face in his hands, pushing away at the hair that lingers upon it. He allows himself to calm down as he gazes at you in front of him, safe and sure. He had almost lost you, he would never allow such a thing to happen to you again. His lips capture yours and you return his fervour to the best of your ability. His hands are gentle as they cradle your form and you feel your own hands carve their way gently through his hair. The both of you are lost in each other for several long moments. Or, until Shoko returns to the horrendous sight of him on top of you.

"How many times have I said, Gojo, not in here!"

Satoru barely misses the edge of her rage, but you laugh at the sight of them, safe and loved. Gojo turns to you then, his own smile quirking upwards at the relief of your joy, of your blatant forgiveness. He swore never to see the look of disappointment in your gaze again. He swore he would die before he saw your form withered in his grasp. When Shoko finally calms down enough to continue her examination, relief brimming in her own gaze as she looks to you, his gaze does not falter. His promise lingers silently in the air.

[skyeslittlecorner]

I know it's late but can I ask for the' kings'reactions to a MC who dislikes sexual activities (maybe because of their past)?

I'm craving the angst now 🤤 but maybe it will end with happiness as always 🫶

Honestly, I don't think the kings would have a big problem with lack of sex. If you smack them in the hand to keep them from touching and tell them why you don't want it, it will flow off them like nothing happened. Maybe they'll get a little angry at first, that's all. They want the best.

If we want angst, let's be creative. Assume that this aversion to sex is heightened to such an extent that it prevents the sharing of demonic energy and threatens our lives.

Satan is surprised that you don't want sex and annoyed that you don't want to cooperate. You need demonic energy to live in Hell. If you refuse everything related to it, even slightly, you will not survive here. Your words that you can then go back to earth where you belong are driving him crazy. You promised you would help them. Are you going to break your promise? If so, then go ahead and come back, but then he doesn't have to keep his end of the deal either. When you come back, Minhyeok will be dead again. Your argue will be fierce, the castle will shake to its foundations. If you really want to survive without sex, you better find a demon who will politely put you back home, because Satan has no intention of helping traitors.

Mammon is… unmoved. My imagination is too small and his love is too great for me to imagine a scenario where he is furious by his master's behavior. If you refuse sex, he will mainly be sad and concerned. Will suggest a lot of other solutions. The main one will be giving you milk from the horns to drink, without telling you what it is. When you find out, you'll get mad, wanting nothing to do with sex, but even then, he won't raise his voice to you. He won't let you die in such a stupid way, and order you to drink it. Although, it breaks his heart. He can be firm when he wants, and you either accept it or have it forcibly injected into your body.

Beelzebub thought it was some fun at first. He tries to get to you, and you pretend to be cold and distant. However, he slowly begins to get impatient. He takes you on trips to earth all the time, so you don't need demonic energy. But why do you reject him, don't you even let him embrace you? He will start to forget about you, if you hate him so much, stay in hell where you have demons that you like more. When he finds out that you don't want energy from them either, he will be just irritated. He will come back regularly to take you back to earth, but the atmosphere between you will become more and more intense, until one day he will simply disappear and not take you back to hell.

Leviathan finds the matter very simple. You don't want demonic energy? Then die. He may even help you and throw you into a coffin to be eaten, hanging would be an honor you don't deserve. He knew you were stupid, but to be this stupid? Not respecting a life that can be lost so easily? And all this because of idiotic grimaces? Sometimes you have to do something you hate to survive. He won't let you die only if he absolutely needs you, and then he will force you to accept demonic energy. He won't touch you because he knows how it hurts. But he will pour milk from the horns down your throat, whether you like it or not.

[matenrou-fan]

Lucifer comforts you after nightmare

soft Lucifer makes me explode yippee yippee yippee

NBreadef, fluff, comfort, just wholesome stuff;; 1352 words;;

Maybe it was a bad idea. But you couldn't keep laying in your bed like that, trembling under a blanket curled up in a ball like a scared small cat. Even fluffy fabric didn't soothe as you continued nervously squeeze soft folds of blanket with your hands.

You couldn't even describe what scared you so much, cause as soon as you wake up from your nightmare you immediately forget what it was about. The only memory was a bright flash and loud thud in the end, that's probably a reason why you wake up with a shrug, almost falling from your bed. But even without any details about your scary dream you still feel so uneasy, your heart was pumping at an almost painful pace when you just woke up and only now slowly start to calm down. Wave of chills keeps running down your spine while your gaze jumps from one thing in your room to another. You can't focus your eyes on something, your head is empty and overfilled with thoughts at the same time so..

Lucifer. His name pops up in your mind absolutely randomly, but for some reason you always feel more relaxed around him and even little thought of his name soothes you down. You wanted to see him so bad right now.. But at the same time you start to worry even more - like, yeah, Lucifer.. Who's probably sleeping in his room right now and it wouldn't be that polite to wake him up just because you see a nightmare.

But hiding in your bed was also not a good idea, as your head starts hurting. Body was still weak and stiff, your organism demanded to go back to sleep when you mind screaming you can't.

You sigh and get up slowly, a little bit dizzy. Even with the closed window, the air was pretty cold at night today, and you immediately shivered. The door was so far away, but at the same time it called you to open it and finally leave the room that was so scary for you now. To leave this nightmare.

Corridor was empty and silent. You didn't even hear any sounds from Levi's room who's always stayed up late watching anime or playing games, just what time is it now? Doesn't matter, you need to find Lucifer's bedro-

"Well well well, I can see someone is still awake?"

For a moment you thought you were gonna have another heart attack. But as soon as you turned around you finally saw him.

Of course it was Lucifer. He's too insightful and powerful for not to notice the crack of the door and these little steps. After all, he caught you several times before when you tried to enter the attic, at the very beginning of your life here, and you always wonder how..

But now he can see on your faces that this time you're not up to something. Even in the dark of the corridor he notices your scared eyes and pale skin and gets closer.

"Is something wrong?" - you close your eyes, hearing this deep voice was so soothing. You can't help but step closer too and suddenly hug him, leaning to his chest. Calm, slow heartbeat and warm skin through the soft fabric of his T-shirt feel so.. calming.

Lucifer gets surprised but hugs you too, his big hands on your back are so warm, and the way he lightly strokes your body..

"I'm sorry.. I can't fall asleep.." - your voice is much weaker than usual when you mumble softly.

Maybe if the atmosphere was different then Lucifer would probably try to be more playful right now, but seeing you so upset and scared hurted his heart a little. Despite the fact that he always gets angry when you mess around with other brothers and get into trouble, he loves this energy of yours. It was hard to see his little star in such a condition now.

"Want to lay down with me?" - he asks gently, holding you closer and when you nod in silence he picks you up and carries to his bedroom. Your arms locked around his neck, it was so comfortable in his arms that you almost immediately start to feel more at ease now.

In his room he carefully lay down you in his bed, still a little bit warm from his body. You pulled a huge blanket up to your nose, drowning in warmness and softness of fabric. It also still has his familiar and pleasant scent..

"Enjoying yourself?" - Lucifer can't help but chuckle. His smile was much softer than his usual smirk as he was still worried about you and wanted to give you some comfort.

"Want to talk about this..? Or about anything else?" - he lay down next to you, embracing your smaller body slowly.

"No.. I don't really remember that dream.. it was just so.. unsettling" - you sigh and look up at his face. Caring and loving gaze that he gives you so rarely and only in private was even more compassionate and tender now, his red eyes in dark look so deep.. You can't look at them for hours. Even if he's a demon now it feels like a piece of his angelic tenderness was still hiding in his eyes, in this gaze that he gives only to you..

"It's okay. Then close your eyes and try to sleep, darling. You're safe now, I'm here.." - Lucifer whispers and kisses your forehead.

"Okay.. Good night.." - you whisper, nuzzling to his chest.

His arms didn't leave your body even for a second now. Slowly stroking your back with his warm hands, caressing your shoulders, patting your head as his fingers play with your locks.. He silently supports you through these light and delicate touches, feeling as your body starts relaxing more and more.

Your face softened and your mind slowly cleared up as you were half asleep now. It was so warm and cozy here, it probably would sound stupid but there's no place in the whole world where you would feel safer than in the hug of this demon. Well maybe because with you he was an angel..?

Lucifer always surprises you with how sweet and caring he can be towards you sometimes, the way he shows you his attention when no one is around can make you melt.

Just like now - you still try to fall asleep when suddenly hear mild humming. Nothing particular, just some simple melody, but soon his voice got a little stronger and Lucifer started singing, in a soft and quiet way, almost whispering you a lullaby.

You don't breath for a moment, as if you was afraid you can stratle him. Maybe he thought that you already fell asleep so you almost didn't move now, hugging him with closed eyes and listening.. You can't say you never heard Lucifer sing before, but this was the first time when he sang just for you. Lyrics were kinda dainty and the whole tone of the song was lofty so you decide that it's probably a cradle song from the Celestial realm.

Wave of goosebumps covered your whole body, running right to your heart. Tickle sensation inside your chest makes you smile a little, as you enjoy Lucifer's gentle voice.

You absolutely forget about all your worries and are completely relaxed now. Even when you tried to stay awake a little bit more just to hear more of his whisper, it was hard to resist the sudden urge to sleep. So you quickly drift off to dreamland, breathing slowly and peacefully, all your body so calm, only your heartbeat was a little bit faster than usual, resonating with an exciting feeling of happiness from Lucifer's attention.

"Mm? Oh, so my angel has finally fallen asleep.." - he chuckled softly, looking at your cute face, so serene.. You trusted him so much and it makes his soul melt, oh how he wished to be that close with you forever..!

"Sweet dreams, my darling.."

In his tight hug, so close to his chest, to his heart.. you were at peace.

[hollow-keys]

I suffered through Tom King Wonder Woman so you don't have to, here's the review:

The set up is that Amazons become outlaws because one Amazon attacked a guy who assaulted her, then all the guys in the bar attacked her because of it, a full bar brawl happened and she killed them. Already, this feels very uninspired.

Instead of being told through Diana's perspective, the entire story is narrated by a guy who's unnamed for most of the story. Wonder Woman is a secondary character in her own book and isn't even on most of the pages.

Additionally, a lot of important information is glossed over. The political atmosphere and lead up to the bill outlawing the Amazon's should be the focus of the first issue. We should see Wonder Woman and her allies organising and reacting to the events, but this is all handwaved away by a few narration boxes from the currently unnamed guy I just mentioned. He tells us that she protested the governments outlawing peacefully, but it's not shown. The only time we see Diana up to this point is a brief nothing-conversation with Steve Trevor.

When the act is put in place 300 amazons are killed or imprisoned. We don't see her defend them once. We do see a lesbian amazon get gunned down because apparently the government somehow got bullets that can cut Amazon steel.

When we first see Diana after the act's in place she's at the graves of those guys who were killed and she tells the government agents that are after her that she's trying to solve their murders? Homegirl, your people are being genocided.

She doesn't actually seem to care, she appears like an emotionless slate who talks of "obligation" to the Amazons like this is a job, not her people being hunted. The most emotion we get is being told by an Amazon ambassador that she gave her sword to her to resist the temptation of using it, which could point to her being enraged by all this but, again, it's not like we hear from Diana herself.

Edit: I forgot she got angry when a gov agent called her a bitch but yeah that's it on the emotion front.

She then talks to Steve about the situation, again, and then we're finally fully introduced to the narrator guy, The Sovereign. He is part of a dynasty of men that have been secretly ruling America for centuries wielding the lasso of lies. No, seriously.

Firstly, putting America's problems at the feet of an entirely made up guy who's secretly subverting democracy is exactly the type of overly simplistic bullshit I would expect from an ex-CIA operative like Tom King. It's a neat explanation that doesn't require you to consider structural problems, all you gotta do is dispose of this one guy.

Secondly, the idea of a person/group secretly pulling the strings is deeply tied to anti-semitic cabal conspiracy theories, even the word cabal comes from Yiddish. Sure, not all people who believe this type of thing believe that it's a Jewish person/group controlling the world, but the further you get in conspiracy circles, the more prevalent anti-semitism becomes. This guy also has a big nose, which is a common stereotypical Jewish feature.

Thirdly, the lasso of lies? Seriously? Why? Questions, questions and no good answers.

All of this is written in Tom King's unmistakable style (derogatory) where all the dialogue is disjointed, all the characters are sad + stoic and the political commentary is meaningless at best.

[trans-jon-rights]

TMAGP Time ! It's back !!

Spoilers for TMAGP 21

I love Celia because she says she has a 'difficult immigration status' which is a great way to say she is actually an interdimensional traveller.

Hey Chester ! HEY MAGNUS INSTITUTE !

So they were building a dome ? This was in 1998, so near the end.

It does involve the Protocol, probably. Or rather, it's a project that might be punished by the activation of the Protocol, which is why the Institute might use political resources to try to delay its application.

Yeah so the Institute was burned down on December 24th 1999 (or 25th?) because they were going to do whatever they wanted to do on the new year.

A 'Universal' transmutation. Are they trying to do a ritual ? Or at least an equivalent, using alchemy instead of the Dread Powers.

If the Dome is supposed to be universal, could it be something like, a second atmosphere ? Idk I'm just theorising as I listen but maybe ? A second atmosphere, charged with power

Okay no, not a second atmosphere but something more like a lab in which to do an experiment in. But if the location is that bad, what could have happened there ? It's in London, so not Hilltop Road. Hey was any sort of accident mentioned in previous cases ?

So Chester is really targeting Sam with Institute cases, that more than confirmed. But I love Freddy making an angry beep at Alice <3 bastard computer

Oh Ink5oul. Yes babygirl get her ! Get the man too !

TAPE RECORDER !!!!

And Statement !!! ERROR ???! "MINE" ???

I didn't know they could do that

Final Comments :

Head full too many thoughts.

I. Huh. I need to think. I'll come back later about that. But Gwen didn't get tattooed and that's nice

[mooonjin]

Hi I don't know if your requests are open but can you do a Hunter X female reader she likes nature and he does too they connect it be a soft wholesome story.

Butterfly

Notes: SUCH A CUTE PROMPT!!!!! ii hope this is what you like <3333 and as promised, the fic!!! i hope this is also confort enough after the tbb finale :((

Pairing: Hunter x f!reader

Summary: You, a nature lover on Raxus has to deal with the changes of the New Empire. But a new path has opened, a path to another nature lover. A person you wouldn't expect to love nature too.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, mentions of the Empire, nature, implied f!reader but i dont use many pronouns (i dont think 0.0), cute tension ⁠— tell me if I've missed anything!

The suns rays gently pushed its way through the lush, orange and green mixed trees. It was always such a lovely view to admire and even better to even sit and relax under. The golden ropes shining against you as you feel the warm heat.

Raxus was responsible for the beautiful horizons and lands you grew up around, your mother and father always making sure there was time for the family to go out and acknowledge what the planet offered.

They shielded you from the war, considering they were on the side of the Separatists, they didn't want you in on politics, especially because your mother was a senator for Raxus. They wanted you to be happy and appreciate the better things in life.

That's how you fell in love with nature.

Everyday, just how your parents did it, you would go out, sit on the same tree log that you carved your names into—with cutely failed love hearts that almost looked like stars—and just sit. Sit and cherish the time you had with the singing birds and the sun that continued to shine.

It was post-Clone Wars now. The Galactic Empire rose to power.

Suddenly, the atmosphere around you changed drastically. As you grew older, you slowly learned about the horrible war that happened and now, a new position in power is pushing all of these absurd laws. Weren't you practically on their side?

Now, finding the time to be by yourself and away from everyone else became difficult. There was either a clone or a TK trooper around every corner you turned.

Luckily, there was a forest close to your home that the trees tower over, making it tough to land, large, Imperial shuttles on.

They attempted to cut them down but they were too thick and wasted time, according to the really angry commanding officers you overheard.

You now had a beautiful space to relax in. You were upset the log that had your parents names on it wasn't by the forest but the Empire would've arrested you and you wouldn't have been able to sit in environment solitude any longer.

The sun rays continued to shine through the trees, the rays longer and brighter because of the tall trees. There seems to be more animals around this area, you assumed they moved habitats because of how forceful the Empire was.

You were able to close your eyes, feeling safe and listen to the insects, the mammals do their animal things.

You had an idea to bring a little notebook with you and write songs with the tune of how the animals sang to each other during the day and how they chirped at night.

"Ah, the beauties of life," you grinned.

-

"We are coming up on Raxus," Tech's voice echoed down the Marauder, hoping Wrecker wasn't asleep. As the shuttle entered Raxus' atmosphere, the view of the orange and green arranged forests was even better aerial.

The city heart was in the distance, the buildings standing strong and silver. Despite the pretty exterior, the city was surrounded by Imperial troops from head to toe.

Tech landed the shuttle in a remote area, a forest with tall trees to stay undercover.

The sun was already beginning to set, Cid giving the Batcher's almost no information about the retrieval mission. It seems they had little time to break out whoever their client was.

"Wow, this place is beautiful," Omega was in awe as her eyes panned the high trees and the lush grass around them, her irises sparkling against the sun rays.

A small butterfly landed briefly on her head, causing her to chuckle before it flew off into the distance.

Hunter watched her, like a protective brother would do. He too was in awe with the plants around them.

He was particularly fond of nature, not even his brothers knew. Whenever they were free and Cid hadn't given them a job, he would sit against logs to watch the clouds surf the Ord Mantell mountains.

It was the only nature he could watch, the sandy atmosphere not bringing much but he still appreciated what he was given. Hunter always thought of visiting Raxus, having luscious ambience. He would've even considered putting aside his soldier life to live here.

Unfortunately, he had to visit the wonderful planet on the opposing side.

On the other hand, Echo and Wrecker were a little wary about this place. Crosshair was off to the side, chewing on his toothpick. He was wary too but a job was a job at the end of the day.

All they knew was their client is a Separatist and they're rescuing them.

"Hunter, four Imperial shuttles have just entered Raxus' atmosphere and are headed for the capital city. We might not be able to engage at all and complete the mission without getting caught." Tech was tapping away at his datapad, the small nods of his head suggesting they don't go forth with the mission right now.

Hunter sighed, "Do we have time early morning?"

They all looked at Tech, who was probably calculating the hours of possibility. With one last button touch, all he responded with was, 'yes.'

With a defeated sigh, everybody trekked back to the Marauder. Wrecker was desperate to sleep the evening away with Omega and Crosshair. Maker forbid when they sleep, Wrecker snores. Tech and Echo had their business about mechanical stuff up by the cockpit, maybe to double-check what needed to be repaired and added to the list.

However, Hunter wanted to do something else.

-

The night was breezy, the weather was nice, and you could hear the nocturnal animals emerge from their homes. The Imperial patrols usually regroup and do their daily meetings and reports so you had freedom to roam the forests without getting caught.

You carried your night lamp, your journal inside your pouch, and of course an electro staff for your own protection. Fortunately, you rarely had to use it.

As you walked down the sandy hill towards the high trees, you noticed there were more fireflies out so you cranked down the brightness on your lamp to embrace the natural light.

The trees always provided you comfort. They were like protectors. You kept walking along the sandy rubble, the path slowly fading into the green grass beneath your feet.

You waved to the curious rabbits that popped their heads through the fluffy bushes. You chuckled gently as the fireflies surrounded you curiously, almost tickling you as they made their way through the forest.

Hunter was sat on the ramp of the Marauder, his helmet off next to him. He was watching the white moon walk the night sky of Raxus, the gentle breeze brushing up against his long curls.

A curious tooka cat trotted towards Hunter, sniffing the ramp and his armoured boots. It purred, looking up at Hunters eyes. He smiled at the animal before it ran off, something else catching its attention.

Hunter stood up, walking down to the grassy plains beneath the ramp. He ran his fingers against the soft plants, inhaling the fresh air.

This felt nice, putting the soldier role aside and admiring what else life had to offer.

You were nearing your resting spot, grinning softly as you observed the birds feeding their childrens and singing lullabies. You jogged to your little spot, a small rocky cliff area to get a beautiful view of the rivers.

You closed your eyes, breathing in the air and listening to the gentle sound of the flowing water.

Startled, you yelped a bit as a butterfly landed on your nose, "Oh my, you scared me. I don't blame you, this a lovely place to play around," you chuckled, gently picking the insect and letting it fly away.

As Hunter walked back to the Marauders ramp to call it there, his senses picked up something in the distance. There was mumbling in the distance, he couldn't tell exactly what it was but it alerted him. He was swift to grab his blaster and his helmet to approach the noise.

Obviously approaching something you don't know isn't smart but Hunter was not about let something or someone jeopardise the beginning of the mission. As Hunter stealthily walked through the tall trees in the direction of the noise, he saw a silhouette.

He pushed away a bush to get a better look.

It wasn't a creature and definitely wasn't anything Imperial.

It was a person.

A very beautiful person.

Hunter lowered his blaster, his gaze softening under his helmet. You were giggling at the same tooka cat he saw earlier that was now brushing up against your knees. The tooka seemed to be extremely comfortable with you, almost jumping up onto your shoulders excitedly.

The cat meowed particularly loud and unfortunately, in Hunters direction. It caught him off guard. You were confused why the tooka suddenly ran away meowing like it was in distress.

That was when you saw Hunter.

Instinctively, you drew your electro staff, lighting it up. This man, who you've never seen before had managed to sneak up on you, wearing armour that was too similar to the clone troopers in the Empire.

You were just confused as to why it was all black and red.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" You called out to the trooper. Hunter tucked away his blaster, his hands coming up and out defensively.

"It's okay, I'm not here to hurt anyone." Hunter took one gentle step further, causing you to jolt the staff in his direction. He flinched.

"I don't enjoy repeating myself," you huffed, "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

Hunter slowly took off his helmet to show he wasn't a threat. He even took out his blaster and threw it aside.

Your eyes scanned him. He had a skull tatted on half his face, a red bandana with a skull imprinted on it. He had a prominent nose, dark brown eyes, and a strong jaw.

He also looked like a clone. Well, the face shape of one at least.

"Hunter, and I'm here by myself," that was a lie, "I'm just here to enjoy the forest."

You titled your head slightly. This... man, who had very similar features and outfit as a soldier, enjoying nature? That's a first.

You deactivated the electricity on your staff but you still kept it grasped in your hand, just in case.

You introduced yourself to him. His voice was low and soft, raspy but clear. There were visible wrinkles on his face and he tends to squint a lot when he spoke.

"Never met anyone on Raxus who enjoys the forest," you spoke. It was true, everyone was too focused on the economy, the war, the Empire, and trying to get off the planet. No one seemed to have time to sit down and admire nature.

"You learn something new," Hunter shrugged, "Do you mind if I sit?" you hesitated, your fingers clenching the hilt of your staff. You didn't know if he was undercover for the Empire or not.

Despite discarding his blaster, there was a vibro knife holster on his arm, very yellow and obvious.

"No tricks."

Hunter nodded, approaching your side to sit down. He was surprised at the view he was met with. A calm and clear river running down the slopes like it was skating against the rocks.

You sat down down, your staff clinking by your side as you let go of it. This Hunter person doesn't seem too bad so far, he was too focused on the water flowing. He was an attractive person, you'll give him that but you couldn't let that thought control how you were going to interact with him.

"How did you find this place?" you ran your fingers against a pebble before throwing it into the stream to be swept away.

He shrugged, "I like plant-y, environment stuff. I thought this place looked nice," the tips of your mouth lifted up into a small grin. You were already getting flustered over his voice and you met him five minutes ago. You coughed, shoving those thoughts to the back of your head.

The silence wasn't too uncomfortable. You tuned to the soft noises of nature, trying not to get immensely distracted by the man sat next to you also enjoying the soft noises of nature.

"Do you come here often?" Hunter asked. You watched all of those holofilms before, isn't this what they ask when they have no experience with conversation starters?

You chuckled, "I do, actually. Grew up around here."

Hunter gently nodded his head before facing the stream of water again, "So, you're pro-Empire."

"Hey, just because I grew up here doesn't mean I am," you playfully punched his shoulder, shaking off the slight pain from your knuckles because he was literally in full armour. Hunters hand came up defensively, apologising for his accusation.

"Then I'm surprised you haven't been caught by troops."

"Well, the trees really help with that. They're like my best friends," you stuck your hand out, drifting through the air.

Hunters eyes watched you carefully, he looked at you how you looked at nature. The way your eyes and cheeks lift up into a grin made Hunter smile himself. He had no experience with hanging out with someone other than his brothers. Especially mid-mission.

"I see."

Your hand came back down only to be met with Hunters gloved hand. Flustered, you quickly took your hand off. You mumbled an apology, situating your hand onto your lap. Hunter, who was also flustered, but more embarrassed swiftly changed the subject to save you both.

"So... how much do you know about plants?"

"I know enough to become a botanist," you picked off a small dandelion, blowing the seeds off and watching them float with the wind. They ended up crashing and covering Hunters face, some getting caught in his curls and his bandana. It wasn't very pretty for Hunter, but he looked like an angel covered in it.

Except for the sputtering that happened right after when some managed to get in his mouth.

"Very funny."

You gave him a hearty laugh, "It wasn't on purpose!"

"Whatever you say," Hunter patted himself clean. There was probably a long lost dandelion seed buried in his hair somewhere but he'll find it some how.

The two of you sat comfortably in each others' presence, chatting away about Raxus' trees, the dusty and dry dunes of Tatooine, and the bustling technologies of Coruscant.

You learned he was an ex-GAR soldier, that explained him lugging around in clone trooper armour. He also has an odd obsession with taking care of kids. He sounded like he's very experienced in that field.

The very same tooka cat came back to play around with the both of you. It managed to accidentally stick its fur in Hunters nose, causing you to rumble into a fit of laughter once again. It sent a smile to Hunters face but he was also slightly humiliated.

A couple of stars shot through the navy blue sky, the two of you making wishes that ranged from wanting an Empire-free life to hoping the other person wakes up as a worm.

You both talked, played, pushed, and comforted each other until the suns head poked from out the horizon; you both had fallen asleep next to each other by then.

The chirping and cawing of the birds woke you both up. You had to smack away a couple hungry fruit flies as you sat up. You blinked, stretching your muscles to wake yourself up.

Hunter yawned, "Good sleep?"

"Mhm," you mumbled, your croaky morning voice coming through.

"You seemed at ease when you slept." Hunter also stood up to stretch, unaware of how his words came out.

You chuckled when you saw him freeze in realisation, "That's how it is in the forests."

Hunter brushed off the loose grass that managed to pile up on him whilst he was sleeping. He reached over to grab his helmet, knowing he can't stay here much longer. He would've loved to if he wasn't getting paid to do a job.

"Leaving?" you sounded a little disappointed. You grew to like Hunter and him leaving sort of made you feel lonelier.

"Well, we have our own paths in nature, don't we?" he grinned. Before you could smile too, there was shouting deeper into the forest. Instinctively, you reached for your staff.

"Hunter!" it was another man's voice calling out for Hunter.

"Don't stress, I know those people," his hands came out again defensively. You lowered your staff.

"I suppose you're leaving now?" you rubbed your arm, upset that he would be gone just like that. Maybe he would come back?

Hunter took a couple steps forward, inches away from you. He gently took your hand in his, handing you a spare comm device. You looked into his deep brown eyes, trying not to blush, "My frequency, if you want to stay in touch?"

You nodded, coyly, grasping the comm device. Hunter stepped away, giving you one last message.

"Promise to comm sometime?"

"Of course, trooper."

"See you soon, butterfly."

Hunter's helmet hissed as he put it on before disappearing into the forest just like that.

Butterfly. You liked that nickname.

-

Post-Notes: im still recovering from wesndays episode TT

wanna be a part of my taglist?

~ ~ ~

@elsastoes @nekotaetae @jiabeewrites @lokigirlszendaya @imalovernotahater @backyard-bear @namesmox

[chronicallydolly]

Ren was managing his own Café, something about a slow and peaceful life was tempting and he heard the call of the brew and the scent of coffee beans. And he followed the dream.

A calm and relaxing feeling about serving others, enjoying the early morning with customers, the scent of spices, the process of preparing the beans was more a graceful procedure than a chore. His hands danced with the recipes and he had a lot of fun with the latte art.

Starting the machines in the morning, boiling the hot water, washing the dishes, baking muffins and cooking the pastries for the day, all before the customers arrived for their breakfast and coffee breaks. That was the dreamy day, and even if Ren didn’t want to accept it, the small talk and express gossip was one of his favorite parts.

That life was very different of what he expected but he couldn’t lie, it was just perfect in that way, a slow, soft, handmade and calm life laced with tranquility. Each morning the sun filled the Café, warming the wooden room and giving a tender and almost magical atmosphere.

And Friday arrived, his favorite day. Ren was wearing his barista apron proudly and he was getting everything ready for the day but strangely not any customer appeared yet...

–Mh? Other slow day?—He sighed.

He decided to continue the spring cleaning, waiting for the doorbell to alert him about a customer but it didn’t happened until... the Café’s door was opened in a brutal force like a kick and a loud ring was heard. It was Akechi.

“What the hell is he doing opening the door like that? Well it’s not like he is the most patient one after all...”

Akechi was a whole world. Maybe an outer space filled with details and secrets. He was stoic, polite and kind just like when he was the detective prince but he was also ruthless, temperamental, rude, cocky, a bit aggressive like his black mask self... and the both personalities mixed in a random way so no one could know “which” Akechi was going to appear. Ren looked at him with a light confused expression and Akechi was looking back at him with some intense eyes that were too difficult to read or even to know if he was angry or sad. Akechi was dressed with a long black coat but his outfit was even more fashionable than usual...

“Is he dressed up?... why...?”

–Is something wrong Ake— Ren was interrupted at the second.

–YOU ARE AN IDIOT, A MORON, A STUPID, YOU ARE JUST A BRATTY AND BRAINLESS CHILD, YOUR JOKES ARE TERRIBLE, YOU ARE NAIVE AND BLIND AND I JUST HATE YOU SO MUCH, REN!!!—Akechi hissed and yelled with a red face.

“...What... on the earth is tha—“

His thinking was interrupted again but this time not by words but for Akechi walking to get closer and then in less than a blink, Akechi kissed him. But it wasn’t a peck or a small one, it was a full intense a deep kiss. He froze and his mind went blank but his body reacted slowly letting the kiss happen and even returning it.

Akechi broke the kiss, he was still red and avoided Ren eyes. He just looked at Ren lips a second and then he immediately walked away in a rush, slamming the door behind him, disappearing without any other action, word or answer.

“...What...?”

Ren was speechless, his breathing was faltering and he was blushed but his mind was a mess, things were not connecting or making sense. Everything was a puzzle. Ren fingertips reached his lips and he walked to the counter and rested his back.

“A kiss?...”

And then he started to laugh, Ren couldn’t help but laugh. His mind was processing everything and he just come to a conclusion, Akechi was just a tsundere girl that was too prideful for a normal confession. Ren was in tears trying to collect himself but failing.

“He will come back sooner than later and it will be my turn...”

Ren laugh ended and he was just with a cocky smirk, cleaning the Café and then the first normal customer entered. It was going to be a wild day.

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

Other mini fic because the brainrot it is not ending at all, I bought a Akechi Nendoroid and I’m practicing drawing to hopefully do fanarts soon ;; sorry about the misspelling again! I hope you like this one!

[gina103]

Girl From The Belly Ch 6

Ch 6 - word count: 3480 Previous - Next

The atmosphere at home was awkward for a while.

Following the argument with Idris, Lina would alternate between feeling racked with guilt to passionately defensive. It didn’t help that her mother was giving her the silent treatment, still angry at her for what she said, even after she apologized. Lina could only hope her mother would come around soon, but until then, life had to go on.

It had been a long day once again. Lina and Eunice had been helping their neighbor, Mrs. Kettle, with her rambunctious children. Busy taking care of her newborn son, Mrs. Kettle had tasked the girls with looking after her two toddlers, a pair of twin girls, Rosie and Petunia. Lina was exhausted, she jealously watched Eunice bouncing the calm and docile Petunia on her lap, laughing and giggling, while she once again had to pry another object out of Rosie’s mouth.

“It’s not fair,” Lina whined, “why did you get the nice one?”

“Hey! They are both lovely children!” Eunice retorted.

“OUCH!”

Rosie had bitten Lina’s finger, wiggled out of her arms, and run off into another room.

Lina turned to give her sister a look of disbelief and frustration. Children were impossible.

“Aww, Petunia’s having so much fun with you, Eunice!” Mrs. Kettle walked over to where the girls were sitting. Rosie was clinging to her mother’s legs as she walked over. “This is great practice for you girls, right? After all, it won’t be long before you have your own children to look after.”

Lina felt herself twitch in annoyance, she forced herself to agree politely along with her sister.

Mrs. Kettle thanked them for their help and took her children to put them all down for a nap.

“I swear, if one more person brings up either marriage or kids, I’ll run away and go live with the rats,” Lina said as soon as Mrs. Kettle left the room.

Eunice laughed, “It only gets worse until you get married. Then after that, it’ll be all about when you’re having kids.”

Lina slumped down dramatically in her chair, “At least you’re good with kids, you’re a natural with them.”

“Because I don’t throw a fit every time I have to babysit.”

Lina shot her an offended glare. “I do not throw a fit!”

“Yes, you do!” Eunice retorted.

“Do not!”

“Do too!”

“Do not!”

The girls kept up this debate all the way back home, and even though the past weeks had been hard at home for Lina, she felt so grateful for her sister, gaining a new level of appreciation for her and for those little moments where she could feel a true bond between them.

-

The wedding was only a week away.

Cassian didn’t understand. How could time move so quickly? Fortunately, he didn’t feel nearly as sick to his stomach about it as he used to when he pondered his approaching marriage. He supposed this was due to his efforts in building a friendship with his fiancée. Over the past two weeks, he had made an effort to speak to her more. Instead of sitting in silence at every meal like they usually did, Cassian would attempt to make polite conversation. He was still very poor at conversing with others, but he was on an upward trajectory in both his attitude and demeanor lately.

And there was a special reason for that.

Lina.

She was the true friend he’d always wanted. Her visits were the best part of his day, only appearing to him in the dead of night like a little angel, always in his study where they would spend the majority of their time just talking. For hours, they would talk about anything under the sun, causing the time to simply fly by. Since he had begun reading books aloud to her, Cassian learned that Lina had the same insatiable hunger for knowledge that he did. She would ask him questions about everything, about new words he would read, what the world outside was like, how their nation worked, and Cassian was very happy to teach her. Lina was fascinated by everything he told her about, whether he was explaining how the clock told the time, or how the quill he wrote with was made, her face lit up at the prospect of acquiring new knowledge. It filled Cassian with a warmth he couldn’t explain. Lina made him feel like he was worthy of listening to.

He just felt lighter with her in his life. Cassian used to feel heavy with the burden of loneliness that he had carried ever since his mother’s death. Lina truly was a little bright spot in his gloomy world. He was now motivated to accept his upcoming marriage, he felt ready to step up as the heir to the Silvenian throne, to step up and be someone his mother would be proud of. He felt ready to be a husband, even though it was with someone he didn’t love, he accepted the fact that he had a duty to his kingdom and the legacy before him.

He was ready, and he never would have felt this way if it wasn’t for Lina.

Hopefully she would come and visit soon, he already had a stack of books in his study that he specifically wanted to read to her. Cassian could imagine her expression, lit up like a Christmas tree, hazel eyes sparkling with curiosity.

He was already smiling at just the thought. He’d actually been smiling quite a lot recently, partly because of Lina and also because spring had sprung. Cassian had been spending quite a lot of time in the palace gardens which were filled with beautiful blooming flowers. There was a particularly secluded spot in the middle of a hedge maze that he loved to sit and read at. He could spend hours lying on the grass, absorbing the pleasant rays of the sun. He hoped to one day bring Lina with him to share in all of its peace and tranquility.

He could imagine her now, sitting in the grass, eyes closed, hair blowing in the breeze, soaking up the moment with him.

One day… he thought wistfully.

-

Lina found herself traversing the dark and dank tunnels once again.

She needed Cassian.

She quickly wiped away the remaining remnants of her tears. Her attempts to patch things up with her mother were once again, ignored in favor of the silent treatment. Lina had absolutely broken down, begging her mother to speak to her, pulling on her skirt, apologizing over and over again to no avail. All Mrs. Brook did was pry her daughter’s hands off her skirt and exit the room, leaving Lina all alone to sob on the kitchen floor. Her father having heard everything, made no effort to comfort her, deciding to lock himself in his workshop instead. Eunice had been helping out Mrs. Kettle again, so she wasn’t even home when the incident happened, and Lina knew she wouldn’t have been much help anyway. She probably would’ve said “I’m sorry about Mama, you know how she feels about Idris, I’m sure she’ll come around soon.”

She needed Cassian’s overwhelming presence, his gentle touch, his smooth rumbling voice, his kind eyes, everything. When he’s around, Lina could forget about everything, he was her escape. No mother could snub her, no brother could berate her, no father could neglect her, no sister could she disappoint, there was only him.

Lina arrived at his study to see him looking out the window at the night sky. He loved the stars. He’d gone on and on about the con-stel-la-tions, as he’d called them. She could remember him holding her, standing in the same spot he was now, and pointing out all the various formations in the sky, all while Lina listened to him in raptures, noticing the way his fingers curled securely around her back and how she’d felt so safe and protected in that moment.

She needed that feeling now.

“Cassian!” Lina yelled from the floor, her voice cracking, “Cas…”

His colossal form turned around to search for her, a grin forming on his handsome face. “Lina? Is that you?”

“Down here!”

He looked down and locked eyes with her, “There you are! Why are you on the floor?” He slowly knelt down and reached out a hand towards her, slipping his fingers around her waist and gently lifting her up.

As soon as he brought her up to meet his gaze, his expression changed to concern. Lina tried to smile weakly at him, but it was quite obvious in her appearance that she had been crying. Her usually lively expression seemed tired, her eyes red and swollen.

“What happened?” Cassian whispered, his thumb brushing over her cheek.

Lina had no answer for him, where could she even begin? She looped her arm around the thumb that brushed her cheek and held it tightly, lip quivering.

Cassian’s eyes softened, he slowly brought her towards his chest and pressed her against it in an odd kind of hug. Lina closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest, feeling the steady and rhythmic beat of his heart, it was so warm. In that moment, all her worries and concerns were far away, all she could concentrate on was him and his enormous presence. Nothing else mattered.

“Would you like to go on an adventure?” Cassian’s voice rumbled through her whole body like thunder.

Lina lifted her head to meet his gaze. “Adventure?” she asked quietly.

“We won’t go far, of course,” he clarified, “I have something to show you.”

Now she was curious, nodding to give him permission.

Cassian took that as his cue to start walking. He maneuvered her away from his expansive chest, forming his hand protectively around her. Making sure to grab a lit candle in his other hand, he opened the door to his private study which led out into a quiet and dark hallway. It was late at night, the palace corridors were quiet, dark, and undisturbed, not even the servants were awake at this hour. Cassian turned the corner into another dark hallway, walking carefully as to not jolt his little passenger. Finally, he came to a door.

Opening the door into another pitch-black space, Cassian walked forward into the abyss, setting his candle down on what Lina recognized as a grand pianoforte.

“I would set you down, but I believe I can do this with one hand,” Cassian whispered.

Lina’s heart fluttered. He’d inconvenience himself just to hold her a little bit longer.

She felt herself being pressed against his chest once more, his thumb brushing up and down her arm as he searched the dark room for more candles to light.

Soon, there was a good number of lit candles that provided the adequate amount of light needed to see the pianoforte and both of their faces. Cassian lowered his hand to a spot on top of the piano, letting Lina disembark and sit down. From her place, she had a great view of Cassian and all of the keys.

“Are you going to serenade me?” she asked teasingly.

He looked up in surprise. “Feeling better already?” he asked softly, “You teasing me again is a good sign.”

He reached up and gently poked her torso, earning a giggle from her.

“Whenever I happen to feel sad or upset, music always revives me. I’ve been practicing this piece quite often as of late, and now, you’ll be the first outside ears to bear witness to it.”

Lina let out a small oooh before straightening up in anticipation.

Cassian fixed his posture, placed his fingers on the keys, and began playing what Lina could only describe as the most beautiful music she’d ever heard.

It started off slow, almost melancholy before speeding up into a higher intensity. All Lina could do was listen, spellbound by the sweet sounds of the keys echoing throughout the room. The piece was picking up speed. Cassian’s fingers flew across the keys with expert precision and grace. As the piece found its crescendo, his eyes were closed, he was totally engrossed. Finally, the music slowed once again, finding that slow but melancholy tune.

“You’re crying.” Cassian had stopped playing.

Lina then realized that he was right, she quickly wiped the fresh tears that were streaming down her face. When she looked up at Cassian again, he was just staring at her, his beautiful blue eyes flooded with concern. He looked slightly lost, like he didn’t know quite what to say to her, but Lina knew what his eyes told her. It pains me to see sadness in you, I wish I knew what was causing you such pain.

Lina gathered her thoughts and started talking.

“My brother hates me.” She began, “He’s hated me for a very long time and the other day, I said something to him that I shouldn’t have and now, my mother hasn’t spoken to me since and- Lina’s voice broke.

“I don’t even know what I did to make him hate me, and I feel like my parents don’t even care,” Tears streamed down her face as her voice trembled. “I just feel as though all I do is disappoint people.”

For the second time, she was now sobbing before the prince. Except he wasn’t just “the prince” to her anymore, he was Cassian, someone who was on her side. He gently scooped her up off the piano to hold against his chest. Lina gripped the fabric of his waistcoat, burying her head further into him. She did her best to concentrate on the sound of his heartbeat.

“Lina,” his voice rumbled, “look at me, love.”

She slowly gazed upward towards his face. He had a new kind of conviction in his eyes. He raised her up to meet his gaze, delicately brushing away her tears with his fingers.

“You are, without a doubt, the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met.”

A blush appeared on her cheeks.

“Why? Because I’m tiny to you?” She asked.

“No, that’s not it at all,” Cassian said sincerely, “I can very well think of hundreds of things besides your size that make you remarkable.”

“Such as?”

“Well, you’re charming, you’re curious, you’re intelligent, you’re honest, you’re beautiful…I could go on. “

A shy smile bloomed on Lina’s face.

“Thereee’s a smile,” Cassian said softly.

“What was that last one?” Lina asked cheekily.

Cassian leaned in, heating up the air around her and filling her vision like the night sky.

“I said, you’re beautiful,” he whispered.

Oh.

Oh.

Cassian pulled away, leaving Lina to remember how to breathe. She felt the heat rising in her cheeks, he had such an effect on her, it was hypnotizing and annoying at the same time.

“Y-your highness…” she trailed off, in a rare moment, Lina couldn’t find the words.

“My apologies, have I made things awkward?” Cassian asked nervously, studying her expression which, to her embarrassment, seemed to be growing more tomato-like by the second.

A high-pitched “No!” squeezed its way out of her. Why did she have to lose her cool right now? Cassian was now openly flirting with her, there was no way she could let this opportunity go to waste.

Lina cleared her throat before continuing. “I was just surprised by your boldness, your highness. I didn’t know you were capable of complimenting women.”

Cassian threw his head back in laughter. “You are the bold one now! Calling me your highness and disrespecting me in the next sentence! I never know what to anticipate from you.”

“I’m not sure I would call it disrespect, I’m merely inspiring humility.”

“Oh yes, of course you are,” Cassian smiled fondly at her, once again brushing up and down her arms with his thumbs. He had a wistful look in his eyes, as if he was remembering something happy.

“I wish you could’ve met my mother, I’m certain she would’ve loved you.”

Lina looked at him curiously. “How so?”

This was the first time Cassian had ever mentioned his mother to her. She’d of course, heard about her death when it had taken place all those years ago. She’d heard about how hard it had been for him at the time, and how different relations within the royal family changed because of it. Lina was only a young girl at the time, but she remembered feeling a lot of sympathy for the prince who was just as young as she was when it happened. She couldn’t imagine the pain he must have experienced at an age where the extent of one’s loss should be limited to losing a favorite quill.

“Well…” He thought for a moment, “She loved all people, all animals, all creatures of any kind. I know she would’ve treated you with respect and kindness, maybe even a little more, just because of how happy you make me.”

“I make you happy?” Lina asked quietly.

Cassian looked her in the eyes, “Yes, very happy. Was it not obvious enough?”

Lina laughed. “Oh Cas, you make me happy too!” She turned her head and kissed the closest digit she could reach, “Very happy.”

They both gazed at each other, simply enjoying the moment. Lina heard the sound of birds chirping outside. They both turned to look out the window, the sky was brightening. Sunrise was approaching.

“I really should be getting home now, before anyone notices I’m gone,” Lina said, she wished she could stay with him forever. It would be a lot better than going back to her family now.

Cassian looked sad to see her go. “If you must…I won’t keep you.”

He rose from the piano bench, once again bringing her close to his chest to make his way back to his study. Lina did her best to savor the closeness, listening to his heartbeat thud in his chest with eyes closed in bliss. She had no idea how long she’d be able to keep seeing him. All she knew was that she didn’t want to lose this, the feeling of his touch, his genuine care for her, she didn’t know what she’d do without it, without him.

Before she knew it, they’d made it to the study, and it was time for her to leave. However, instead of lowering Lina to the ground, Cassian brought her to his face once again.

Before she could even wonder what he was doing, his enormous, beautiful face closed in. She felt the heat of his breath, his scent, and the warm press of his lips against the side of her face.

He’d just kissed her.

“Goodnight,” He whispered. He lowered her to the ground and let her disembark his hands, which she had been held in almost the entire time they were together.

“Goodnight,” Lina replied. She’d barely processed the fact that Cassian had just kissed her. She felt cold without the warmth of his touch.

She turned to walk away from him, but quickly whirled back around. “I think you meant good morning!”

“Ah of course, my mistake,” Cassian replied amusedly, “good morning, Lina.”

She smiled and waved goodbye at him before finally disappearing into the walls.

It was a good morning indeed.

-

 Cassian had a hard time watching her go.

As her little shape disappeared into the walls, he couldn’t help but wish she would stay forever.

When he first saw her face, red and stained with tears, he just wanted to hold her close and never let her go. He’d never seen her cry before, and it almost caused him physical pain to see her so sad, so worn down. Her family sounded toxic and draining from the information she had disclosed. How could her own brother hate her so much? How could anyone hate someone like Lina? She was such a joy to be around, such a lively countenance with so much love to give. How could someone want to destroy that?

Cassian was sure that if he ever got the chance to meet her brother in person, he would have some choice words for the nasty fellow. In no world did Lina deserve that kind of treatment. She deserved to be treated with the utmost respect, kindness, honesty, and integrity. She deserved all of that and more. All Cassian wanted was to see her shine like the bright ray of sunlight she was.

His mother surely would’ve loved her.

Cassian walked over to the side table and poured himself a glass of brandy. As he took a small sip, the realization hit him squarely in the chest.

He was in love with Lina.

How had it taken him this long to realize it? Cassian didn’t know.

All he knew was that the 5-inch-tall mystery woman he’d saved during his engagement ball had now made a permanent mark on his heart.

[pilferingapples]

in the first part of les mis, in the book, the bishop visits a conventionist and hugo tells us that he's basically been living in exile because everyone hates him. why? did the political atmosphere in this tiny random town change so much that even the townsfolk hated him? i don't understand. did people really want the ancien regime back?

Hello!

Warning: this answer is going to vastly, vastly oversimplify everything about the political climate of late 18/early 19C France, or we'd be here all day.

So here's the thing: support for the Republic was never universal, or even remotely universal, even at the peak of the French Revolution. There was pretty much a civil war going on about it for years! A lot of people were sincerely and , as they saw it, devoutly loyal to the Ancien Regime. Being royalist tended to go along with being very Catholic--for many people, there was still a sense that the king had been chosen by god--and the Revolution, to those people , was a violent blasphemy that brought war and unrest to the country and destroyed the True government.

Given how people in Digne feel about their church and their Bishop, and how they treat people who are openly Bonapartist, it seems like they've always been a royalist town. (Napoleon was noooot exactly carrying on the ideals of the republic, but plenty of people saw them as the same thing) .

So this isn't a shift in attitude, it's just how a lot of places were. If there'd been no support for the monarchy, the Allies would have had a much harder time putting a king back in charge of France. Lots of people wanted the monarchy! as to why...whoo boy that is WAY too long to do justice to here. But yeah! This is very much how a lot of people did continue to see the revolutionaries--even when LM was published, many people were very angry about the Bishop kneeling to G, because they considered him an evil murdering usurper--but those critics are @psalm22-6's research XD

[hafux]

Violent delights (Gojō x Nanami fanfic)

!!! +18 !!! / Words: 8,012

Summary:

Nanami is angry at Gojō for, well, basically being Gojō, and Gojō has some ideas on how to get back on his good side. I’m sure you can figure out the rest.

Text:

Kento was tired. Missions had been piling up lately, naggingly challenging his “no overtime” policy. It was not all: joggling between nerve-racking assignments was one thing; fighting Yūji's enthusiasm for throwing himself into lethal situations was another. His student's resolve to do good, be helpful and protect everyone was a problem, and Kento's maternal instincts frantically kicking whenever the child called or texted him was taking a toll on his mental health. Fortunately, Yūji's training was going great, and soon, he could tackle any threats coming his way. Kento would still worry, though. The way that freaking kid got under his skin… So yes, he was tired. And what was presently unfolding was the last straw.

He was at a bar he fancied but did not want to be in, keeping company to a woman he barely knew. All because of a conceded “why not” instead of directly going home - blame it on the call for a well-deserved drink after five exhausting days. He arrived at the function, recognised her, and instantly got a better understanding of the reasoning lurking behind the invitation. He froze, taking three seconds to decide whether to back away or come in. Too slow: she promptly turned his way as if perceiving his presence. Politeness and catching a glimpse of desperate relief lighting her gaze pressurised him to enter. 

The pub was a nice place, one of Kento's favourites. But despite the warm, cosy, and intimate atmosphere, she radiated discomfort; and she was alone, of course. 

He joined her at the counter, greeted her and ordered. They made small talk for a while, something Kento execrated. Fortunately, his interlocutor was nervous as hell, which translated into pleasant logorrhoea. Kento indulged her longer than he would have typically done; still, ineluctably, he dozed into dissociation, present enough to faint interest while wandering his thoughts. Alcohol was not helping, and they were already on their second round. 

He pitied her. Even though she postured nonchalance, he could foresee the queries she burned to ask while dreading the answers and saw no other way of distributing them but brute honesty. It would hurt her, and maybe, as often happens, she would get mad at him for speaking the truth instead of facing the real reasons for her current disarray. He was old enough not to care about being the receiver of misplaced misery. But tonight, he was drained. 

He glared at the ice cubes, gracefully waltzing in the golden liquid, took the glass to his lips and finished it rapidly, signalling the bartender for another one. Booze used to be the worst of the many ways he coped with his work; that was before he found another method, much more destructive.

He emerged from his crippling mental swamp, took another sip of his new beverage, and finally engaged in the conversation they both avoided: “…I guess he's late.

- Guess so”, she murmured with an apologetic grimace, even though she bore no responsibility for the debilitating lack of respect the guest they were waiting for could demonstrate. Kento did not budge, but sadness crept into his soul like a viscous, inextricable fog. He had had time to analyse her, more than necessary for someone as hypervigilant, trained and gifted as he. She was clever, fun, alluring and beautiful, but that was irrelevant. He knew what the man they were expecting was looking for in a person: a strength he could break. A sense of self he could corrupt. A darkness he could tap into and expand. Why? Kento was not sure. And so yes: bright, strong, independent, adventurous, hot-headed, egotistic even… She probably had been all of these. But right now, after months of putting up with Gojō Satoru's bullshit, only a frail, hesitant and weary creature remained. 

Destabilised by his prolonged pause, she quickly muttered: “But he said he'd be there. Said it'd be a surprise and that I'd probably like it”. She fiddled in malaise, took a deeper breath and built the courage to add: “I guess the surprise is you ?” Kento would have loved to disappear into thin air. 

She abruptly put her glass down. She was ruminating, her irises' rapid moves betraying the storm breaking loose behind them. Finally, she erupted: “I just don't understand why. Why he does what he does, or what the hell he wants with me. Or in general. What is he looking for? Any chance you could help me with that?”, she interrogated with a tone she wanted playful, but that sounded more like desperation. “You're colleagues, right? You seem to know him well. I saw you before. And he told me about you. A lot, actually”, she whispered, blushing. One of Kento's eyebrows slightly raised. He closed his eyes, containing the anger surge burning him inside. Amongst all the things he detested about Gojō, his absence of consideration for people's sentiments was the worst. He could visualise his smirking face, mindlessly babbling fondly about him in front of her, regardless of how insecure it would make her feel.

What a crying joke: they were in a nice place and would enjoy each other's company in a standard configuration. He would motivate himself to be more talkative, resulting in lovely conversations. He would bring her home with him; it could even be the beginning of something. 

But no. Because right now, everything reeked of Gojō's entitled scent. They were two solitudes incapable of reaching each other, connected and kept apart by someone no one could handle. He felt terrible for her and himself, picking up the pieces of yet another heart the god-child got tired of. She was still talking, trying to make sense of Satoru's caprices: it was like a mad river contained by a weakened barrage for too long. She was desperate for answers. Kento was no longer listening; there was nothing he had not heard before. Only one question left: shall I tell her? 

Finally, he interrogated: “Do you want me to be honest?” - a trick to prevent her from directing her anger at him afterwards. Gaslighting people through consent was not pretty, but it worked. 

She finished her drink and ordered another. She inspired, shook herself, and something hard appeared in her eyes. “There it is”, Kento pointed out, “the strength that probably made him choose you in the first place”. 

He did not plan on saying this out loud. She flinched but picked herself up promptly and looked at him with something like anxiety and defiance. He exhaled resignedly and continued: “From what I know, if you're looking for something stable, he is not the one. It's not you; it's just who he is. And you don't seem delusional enough to think you could change him. Or so I hope.”

That was harsh; but shock therapy was all he had right now.

Or maybe you relish being cruel to her. She is a rival, after all.

Kento muzzled his intrusive thoughts as best he could. The silence was now astonishing. She hardly swallowed, avoiding his gaze. So he tried, his voice reduced to a caress: “He's not reliable, you probably know this. I have no business giving relationship advice, and I don't know you, but you deserve better.”

She loosened slightly, and he waited for her inquiries. 

“Are you judging me?

- That's what people do. But”, he hastened to add, aware it was not the reply she wanted, “no, I'm not. I'm in no position to”, he concluded with a desolated sigh.

“It's my fault. I can only be angry at myself. After all, he never promised me anything. He even said the opposite, reminding me many times that there was no exclusivity. He is many things, but a liar isn't one of them. I'm just so fucking stupid…

- Don't beat yourself up. He doesn't lie because he doesn't have to. 

- What do you mean?” she replied, intrigued.

Kento dissipated a non-existent cloud: “No human should have that many privileges. It changes your brain chemistry; destroys empathy, among other things.

- Or maybe”, she stressed after a few reflective seconds, “he's just a prick”. Kento examined her more intensely. She grinned: “You look like you have many of the same privileges, yet you don't seem like a complete asshole. Perhaps it's just his personality”. She was being flirtatious and correct; but Kento was not referring to Gojō's gender, race, social status, class, beauty, or money. “Throughout Heaven and Earth, I alone am the honoured one”: this burden could not be bored without sacrificing the sanity of the poor soul bending under its weight.

He politely responded with a smile, and they finished their drinks awkwardly.

Out of the bar, he faced her to say goodbye. “It was nice meeting you, although it'd have been better in more amicable circumstances…

- Gosh”, she interrupted him, almost giggling, “are you always that formal?” 

Kento's face softened into the caring expression it displayed sometimes. “You seem fine. That's nice to see.

- Yeah, not that good. But I'll get better. Thank you for, hum, your harsh truthfulness; I needed it. And I'm gonna need one last thing from you”. 

She closed the gap between them and pressed herself against him. He held his breath, unsure of how to react. Choosing the humane option, he embraced her enough for her to feel safe, contained, and carried. She raised her head to look him in the eye and boldly kissed him. He let her have it, even meeting her halfway. When they separated, he delicately tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. She was expecting more, an inviting expression brightening her features.

Her phone buzzed: she took it out of her pocket and immediately reddened. “What impeccable timing”, guessed Kento.

She mumbled: “It's hum… It's Satoru. He says he's arriving soon…

- I'll leave you to it then”, Kento replied in the most unperturbed manner he could, stepping away. 

“Wait!” 

She made a precipitated motion to clasp his arm but contained herself. “You're not staying?” she implored.

“No, I got to get home. Besides, I wouldn't be a good company. Take care.”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned away and sank into the night.

XXX

He closed his apartment door, removed his tie, jacket and glasses, then poured himself one last drink. He did not want to acknowledge his feelings; yet, in the reassuring ambience of his dimly lit salon, his thoughts came rushing in like enthusiastic waves impatient to crush him down. 

His hookups with Satoru started as a way to blow off steam; unfortunately, they rapidly became something else, at least for him. 

The first time, Kento got dangerously mad at himself for indulging in sex with someone so unavailable. He promised it would never happen again and was usually excellent at keeping his word. But not this time; Satoru made sure of it. 

So it occurred repeatedly, to the point he started missing his colleague during other encounters: his blurred eyes after orgasms, his splintered voice susurrating dirty pleads, his skin breaking under Kento's nails, strangely fragile without his infinity barrier...

Kento shook his head, fearing his mind would drift somewhere it would be trapped, a tickling sensation already building up in his stomach. Maybe he could have handled this whole mistake if it had remained subdued to fucking. But this intoxicating venom spread to every aspect of his life: Satoru's flirtatious manners when they were on missions together, Satoru's gleefully playing along when people mistook them for a couple with a kid on the occasions Yūji joined them, Satoru's convenient hands' placements anytime he passed close to Kento... 

It was just a game to Gojō, and Kento would never admit how badly it got to him. So much energy to stay composed, never react to these provocations and control his body to the brink of mental exhaustion. Sex was the only configuration where frustrated impulses, enfeebling heartbreak and angry resentment could express themselves: it was messy, brutal and vicious, something he did not usually appreciate. And now it seemed the only sex he could enjoy.

Crawling out of his obnoxious reverie, he finished his glass and was on his way to the bathroom when someone rang. Kento froze: only one person could show up uninvited in the middle of the night. His heart pounded faster, and he took a second to calm down. Another insisting buzz extorted him back into the present; he hurried to open the door.

There he was, in all his seraphic beauty. While most of Kento's focus was on containing his internal tumult, he allowed his gaze to linger on Satoru: his jawline, neck muscles, collarbones, and torso, which he guessed from a jacket hoody his colleague wore with probably nothing underneath. With no glasses on, his unworldly eyes daunted Kento while a grin illuminated his face. His regular flippancy finally broke the silence: “Well, you're not gonna let me in?”

Kento crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway: “Where is your date? What was that about?”

Satoru huffed as if the situation was not worth mentioning. Met with nothing but disdainful quietness, he reluctantly answered: “Dunno. I was thinking of ways to be back on her good side, and I know she likes you, so maybe the three of us could have had… fun.”

It took Kento a lot to tune down the exasperated wrath piercing his words: “A threesome? Without telling the other two? Great way to regain her favours. I don't know why you'd think I'd be up for this.

- Wouldn't you?”

Kento frowned, taken aback. 

No, you would not. Because you want him for yourself.

He breathed in, trying to send the nagging echo back to the most distant corners of his tortured soul. He could almost taste the sour horror of a curse on the tip of his tongue. He needed to get his shit together. 

“Anyway, where is she?” he countered to occupy his traitorous subconscious.

- I dipped. I thought you'd be here, she was angry, and I didn't want to…

- Yes, humans having feelings and all, what a pain”, Kento cut off with the sharpness and exactitude of a coroner blade. It took Satoru off guard briefly, his smile fading imperceptibly. But cockiness quickly returned, and he dramatically took his hands to his chest, mimicking a bullet to his heart. “I will erase this smirk off your face”, Kento silently promised, his glacial composure beautifully hiding the burning desires running wild in his guts.

Suddenly, Satoru straightened up, reminding his colleague of how menacingly tall he was. Kento was still watching him, an unimpressed pout concealing his frantic heart rate. 

“I felt like seeing you. You seem angry.”

He stepped forward.

“Do I?”

Kento's timbre was still emotionless, bored even; in reality, he was furious. Not only at Satoru for making his life miserable but at himself for, despite everything, being incapable of telling him to leave. 

“Yeah, you do”, teased Gojō. He drew nearer, faintly tilting his head. Kento remained still, like a cat ready to turn into a killing machine or a deer waiting to get hit by a truck.

“And if you're angry at me…” Satoru kept cooing, “Well... What can be done about it?”

Kento's eyes, fixed during the exchange, rolled to meet Satoru's. It was like drowning in supernovas, every nuance of blue constricted in two orbs and magnified by the ever-changing headwinds sweeping through the man's mind.

“Satoru”, he whispered. First name use... Never a good start.

“Kento”, Satoru simpered.

Kento ignored the goading, his mouth just a few centimetres away from his colleague's. How badly he wanted to taste him. Instead, he snarled: “You need to back the fuck off. Now.

- Or what?” 

This was the provocation Kento awaited — so many exhilarating promises concealed in this rhetorical question. Satoru carefully brought his thumb to Kento's cheek; for a second, he sensed the terrifying iciness of an infinite void, something only found in the dimmest places of space or the humane psychée; and then, the shivering warmth of Satoru's hand. The barrier was lift-off.

XXX

He clutched Satoru's sweater, pulled him inside the flat and slammed him against the door. Satoru chuckled at the outburst. Without giving him time to steady himself, Kento kissed him aggressively, his tongue desperate for his. 

He retreated to recover his breath; Satoru responded with a faint cry before rushing back to his mouth, hands cupping his face to prevent any escape. Kento bit his lip hard enough to cut him; he relished the hot metallic flavour and his partner's masochistic enjoyment. 

“ When was the last time I saw him bleed, that was not because of me?” 

He wondered whether he was irremediably broken or if decades of consistent therapy and exorcism could fix him. Probably not. These last sparks of lucidity melted in the heat of Satoru's choking embrace.

Pulling his hair, Kento compelled his head back and nibbled his neck, red marks blossoming along his way down. He unzipped his jumper, his hand pausing on his chest to sense his heart racing. Reaching his pants, he pressed his crotch against his, moving suggestively. 

Satoru dashed for his lips, face, and collarbones, kissing, licking and nagging. Kento's dick jolted, cramped in the tight fabric of his trousers. He did not move, lost in his partner's hunger - before his own took over. 

He unbuttoned Satoru's jeans and squeezed his ass while maintaining him against the wall. Satoru desperately attempted to reduce the space between them; Kento blocked him with raw strength. “Shhh”, he murmured. “With all the nonsense you put me through tonight, this is the least you can endure”. 

He took his boxer down, grasped his fully erected cock and caressed his gland with his thumb, moving up and down firmly but slowly. Satoru's head tipped back. “Harder”, he panted, “go harder… Please…”

Kento ignored the supplication. Satoru brusquely reached for him; Kento reflexively slapped his hand aside and pushed him back. He moved closer and demanded, his voice deepened by brutal excitement: “Stop that, now”. 

Satoru reluctantly leaned against the partition, wincing. Kento jerked him off until precum coated his fingers: he brushed closer to Satoru's asshole, nudging at the entrance. Satoru moaned, and Kento resisted his attempts to force him inside, pleasurably watching him contort in agonising cravings. Finally, he moved one finger in, carefully. Satoru squealed in pleasure, and Kento shoved a second one harder. His gaze trailed up to stare at Satoru's and observe the rare phenomenon of his eyes growing black, his dilated pupils greedily absorbing the blue around them. He loved it when this happened.  

He found the sweet spot he sought and went rougher. He buried his face in the crook of his partner's shoulder before biting his neck, getting muffled screams in response. Satoru gripped the hand fucking him and constrain the fingers further in, to the point of harming Kento's wrist. 

Won over by the imperious need to calm down and deprive Satoru of too much contentment, Kento abruptly stepped back. “That was mean”, chuckled his colleague while catching his breath. In response, Kento squizzed his chin and hummed: “Show me what your mouth is good for besides talking shit.” 

Satoru let out a quick laugh: “ Avec plaisir.”

But nothing was ever so simple with him: getting rid of Kento's shirt took him ages, and he spent even longer caressing his torso. Not that this was disagreeable - quite the opposite - but Kento knew Satoru was not aiming to please; the goal was to edge him until he broke loose. 

Satoru finally crouched down, unzipped his trousers but returned to his abs, rubbing Kento's painfully hard dick against his throat. The 3/7 sorcerer exhaled in exasperation and discomfort, biting his lip hard enough to injure it. Satoru sniggered and leered at him. 

The slap went off before Kento's brain could catch up with his body. Satoru stayed stunned for a moment; then, a mean grin twisted his features, surprise replaced by satisfaction. Still, he remained distanced. 

Blinded by infuriation, frustration and lust, Kento grabbed his hair to force his head up and ruthlessly shoved his cock into his open mouth. Satoru gagged, raking his nails down his partner's thighs without pushing him away, fighting his natural reflexes. Kento's reflexes – empathy and kindness - made him withdraw. His hand lingered on Satoru's cheeks: “You're OK?” he queried, a soft tone betraying his concern.

- Of course I am”, Satoru snarled. 

Kento straightened back. “Sorry I asked”, he whispered before pressing his dick back in his coworker's mouth.

Satoru endured Kento's angry thrusts until his throat burned. No complaining, though: this violence was precisely what he coveted. Kento finally cooled down and let him take over, his lips swirling around his partner’s gland before taking it all in eagerly, up and down. Eventually, the soreness of his jaw became so strident it made him cease.

“What are you doing?” Kento growled, his voice stripped of its usual monochord tenderness. Satoru raised his face to meet his colleague's exigent gaze. People were always humbled or intimidated by his sight; but Kento's moody grey was mesmerising, threatening even. Gojō was generally clueless about what was happening behind these irises' placid abyss: to him, this was scarier than anything his Six Eyes could produce.

“Give me a break”, he managed to articulate in a laugh. “It's too big for…

- I don't care. Or do you have a specific word to put an end to this?” 

Kento was referring to their safe word - which he had insisted on despite Satoru's reluctance. Satoru did not find anything clever to reply.  

“Get back to it then.”

His dick throbbed, reacting to the demanding coldness. Kento was the only one who dared talk to him like this. Satoru could obliterate him right here, right now, but nothing compared to the feeling of powerlessness under this man's touch.

Forcing Kento into this state of authority, dominance, and brutality was bliss; witnessing him fight his natural kindness was the cherry on top. Satoru knew it was a slippery slope but could not help it. 

And so, he complied. Kento pulled his hair gently but firmly - the restraint he still displayed would break eventually; Satoru would make sure of it -: “Look at me.”

Satoru obediently raised his eyes. He amplified his movements, taking him all in, suffocating at every thrust, saliva and precum drooling on his chin. He knew Kento was close: his thorax heaving erratically, his laboured respiration, his twitching nerves about to implode... What a view. 

Just before coming, Kento brusquely withdrew and maintained Satoru afar, who choked in surprise and whimpered in disagreement. 

Satoru stood up, smiling at his partner's best efforts to regain a semblance of control. “Did you miss me?” he cajoled flirtatiously. Kento would have loved to answer that yes, he did, he does, all the time. Instead, he mocked: “Don't be stupid” - which could mean anything. 

Satoru peeked at him, an uncommon seriousness deepening his formidable gaze, and hugged him with such emphasis, possessiveness and strength it could have made Kento cry. He froze, not daring to move and risk shattering the moment, warily resisting the embrace. Finally, he surrendered, head tilted back, eyes and mouth half opened, gladly disappearing into Gojō's insatiable thirst.

“I want you, now.” Satoru's requisite impelled him back to a reality where everything ached: his heart's infernal cadence, his cramping pelvis, his burning lungs, his despised softness, his denied love. 

“Of course you do.”

He dragged Satoru to the living room. 

Kento brought him to the corner of the sofa, torso and face against the expensive cloth. He took a few seconds to admire his muscular back twitching in anticipation, already glowing with sweat and red scratches. He was magnificent.

Grasping Satoru's hip with one hand, he grabbed his throbbing dick and pressed it against his ass, mimicking back-and-forth moves between his partner's cheeks. Satoru cursed and rubbed himself against Kento's cock, who spanked him before hardening his grip. 

He bent over to kiss his lower back, reached his asshole and shoved his tongue in, going deep without warning. Satoru moaned and arched impulsively. Despite struggling to maintain him in place, Kento licked him avidly until his postponed longing became insufferable. Then, trembling, he straightened up and pushed himself inside. 

This took a groan out of him, and Satoru screamed. Kento relished the thrills of Satoru's sphincters clenching him before moving himself entirely out and in again, further, both hands holding Satoru's hips. His colleague whined continuously, his nails ravaging the couch: “Wait… Fuck, wait…”

Kento chuckled sarcastically and intensified the tempo. He leaned in and clutched Satoru's neck from behind, raising his head. His mouth close to his ear, he cooed, ““Wait”, what? - I can't… I… - “Can't” fucking what” he nagged. Satoru gasped: “Gentler… You're too big… I just… Ahhhh… - As if you deserved “gentle”. And anyway”, Kento clasped Satoru's chin, “as previously mentioned, there is a word to stop this”. Satoru looked at him, wheezing painfully. Kento scrutinised him, defiance hardening his traits. “No?” he goaded in a thrust. Satoru hissed. “Well….” 

Kento stood up and fucked him without respite. Satoru rapidly turned into an incoherent mess, capitulating to his partner's demanding pace. He was so tight, wet and scorching... It was too good, too... Kento thanked alcohol for making him numb enough to delay his orgasm, one last coherent thought before derailing into a wild frenzy, intoxicated by the sensations and spectacle. He bent on Satoru, pressed his perfect face into the cushions and grasped the sofa for a better angle.

Gasping, Satoru was focused enough not to let his survival instincts kick in, like a last line of defence, but that was about it. The lack of oxygen was already working its magic. What a delicious feeling: his muscles quickly weakening, his heart helplessly panicking, his lungs convulsing in despair, the pressure of Kento's arm on his head, his burning chest pounding against his back, his relentless thrusting… This was what he was yearning for. Agony and euphoria dancing together. 

Close to fainting, his transient mind deriving, he felt something bursting, minuscule at first and then gigantesque, roaming every inch of his wrecked being. Incapable of containing himself, he screamed and violently bounced back, freeing himself from Kento's grip. Head tilted, mouth opened, veins dilated, his suffocating body tautened one last time; then, he collapsed on the divan.

And in the haze of something resembling sweet death, a memory came back.

XXX

“What do you make me punish you for?”

Kento's question took him by surprise on one of the rare mornings Satoru decided not to disappear after sex. His voice was peaceful, usual and even, with a touch of authentic sorrow, and it broke him. I mean, not really: nothing could break Gojō Satoru, the most powerful person on the planet. Or so he thought.

He stayed mute, incapable of forming sounds for a few seconds. This was one of the many things he appreciated about his colleague: every word of his was carefully considered, crafted and articulated. He was the only one keeping Satoru on his toes, communicating with only unfiltered honesty, treating him like a human being - Kento and the students, of course.

He would never admit it, but he longed for and cherished these scarce afternoons when, after a difficult assignment, he managed to motivate Nanami to take the kids out. It did not necessitate a lot of convincing, mainly because Kento worried the children would die if only supervised by Gojō, but Satoru suspected him of enjoying these moments. The last time was a month ago, at the height of the Hanami season. They were strolling down Ebisu, saturated with food stands and outdoor festivities. Satoru could still hear the endless disputes between Yūji and Nobara, perceive Megumi's annoyed tenderness, and capture Kento's bright smile. Yes, smile. 

For most of his life, he had felt like a shiny pawn at the mercy of forces he could not defeat despite his mighty abilities. But unlike anybody else, Nanami did not want anything from him, which picked at Satoru's deranged ego: of course, he would go for the only one who did not show interest. 

Kento went on. The words seemed easy, flowing out of his mouth: “I guess I know why you came on to me in the first place, and I thought one time would be enough to satisfy whatever you got going on. But you keep coming back... I wonder why”. He paused. “You're probably looking for someone strong enough so you can fake being vulnerable. But there is something more than cosplaying being weak, submissive, mortal: this seems like punishment. So what am I punishing you for?” 

Satoru could hear his heart palpitating in his temples, blood rushing in panicked pulsations. He knew where Nanami's train of thought was leading and how hard the following sentences would hit him; he was in no emotional or physical state to hear them. 

“ Is it about him? Do you pretend I am him? Am I a substitute chastising you for his death?” 

He only managed to pronounce a harsh and threatening: “Don't.” 

Kento's expression alternated between sadness and remorse before relaxing into a bleak canvas. Satoru struggled to collect himself: “I mean, I… I don't….”

But denial was all he could muster. Finally, he declared with his usual playfulness: “We don't have to overthink it”. He approached Kento to kiss him, adding: “You enjoy yourself as much as I do, don't you?”

Kento did not return his kiss and stared at him silently, long enough to make Satoru uncomfortable. Finally, he released him from his stern, stony and unreadable gaze. “Fine. Whatever,” he ended in a concernedly tranquil tone before leaving the bed for the bathroom. 

Satoru remained motionless, lulled by the water sound coming out of the shower. 

It was indeed punishment. For not saving Suguru. For abandoning him at his worst, letting him spiral down his personal hell until he finally snapped. For not even seeing it. Or maybe he did see it but, too infatuated that he was with his newly found powers, did not care enough to dedicate time to the only one who truly mattered. The one he could have destroyed and rebuilt the world for. He was so young at the time. If only he had known…

But then a decade passed. Ten years offering him every occasion to reach out to Suguru; yet, he did not. And so history repeated itself, with a definitive ending. Suguru used to tease him for always being late, but there was a universe between being late and never showing up. What was his excuse this time?

Satoru pressed his temples with his palms, hard, and exhaled in pain — no more of this.

His capacities made him exist above the earth, unbound by its restrictive rules. And yet, they did not allow him to save his one and only. So yes, he hungered for people who could challenge him and make him believe, even for a split second, there was a chance he would lose, repent and die. 

Nanami was the perfect candidate: strong, meticulous, applied, probably the best first-grade sorcerer around. Their line of work demanded spaces to unwind, and brainless fucking was one of the most efficient ways. 

Secondly, Nanami possessed this darkness Satoru craved; his colleague was excellent at keeping it at bay, probably because, despite everything, he was genuinely sane. But he had seen so much death. And above all, like him, he had lost his other half: being the most balanced and kind-hearted man in the Jujutsu world will not save you from the bottomless pit this will carve. And from there, the shadows will creep, expand and devour. No amount of psychiatrists, pills, prayers or distractions could fix this. 

Kento assumably thought Satoru did not care and he was making extra efforts to keep up with his dilettante facade. In reality, Nanami was the only one whom refusal he dreaded, and the few times it happened mortified him. The only one reminding him of how lonely he was and how devastating it truly felt.

Crawling out of his inhospitable mind palace, he sighed and dressed quickly. As he passed the bathroom on his way out, he stared at the closed door. Through his Six Eyes, he could see, touch, and taste Kento. He raised his hand to knock but reconsidered and finally left. 

XXX

Satoru came seconds before Kento could not restrain himself anymore, and his uncomparable strength compelled him to step back. He took the opportunity to cool down. After a few breaths, he walked to the sofa to find his colleague lying, lost in his thoughts. Kento paused to observe: his long eyelashes weighed down by tears, his respiration short and uneven, his chest glistening with sweat and sperm. 

He squatted beside him: “Wake up, I'm not done with you yet”.

Satoru looked at him, and Kento frowned: there was so much grief in his partner’s gaze it could have made his heart sink. But the expression vanished like a whimsy spring wind before he could ask what was wrong. 

Satoru tenderly stroked his face. His thumb caressed his lips before entering his mouth and playing with his tongue. Kento closed his eyes, enjoying the savour, softness, and warmth. But his denied desire brutally returned, yearning to finish what had been deferred for too long. 

He drew Satoru on the ground and clutched his wrists above his head while his other hand jerked his sore cock. Satoru moaned with pain and delectation: "W… Wait… It's too sensitive…

- I don't care”, Kento replied, leaning in to kiss his neck.

Satoru chuckled: “I can see that, but…

- Satoru. Stop talking”, he susurrated in a bite.

Satoru inspired between his teeth, his respiration weak and hollow. Every of Kento's strokes had his legs wobbling, his reluctant body trying to escape the stranglehold as much as enhancing the arousal. 

He tried to rise, complaining: “Fuck, give me a break”. Kento compelled him back harshly. Satoru closed his eyes under the impact and sneered to annoy his colleague. It did not miss. 

Kento straddled him and harshly cupped his mouth. 

“Is that funny to you?” he snapped, his voice colourless and ominous. Satoru exhaled provocatively: “Everything is funny to me. Maybe if you didn't take the high road all the fucking time…”

The hand moved below to clutch his neck, trembling in fury, but Satoru noticed the restraint in his partner's rage, still—time to destroy the dam for good.

He chuckled, focused on Kento: “I have a better idea. How about?” he grabbed his wrist, pressing hard enough to make him twitch. Kento glowered at him, getting instinctively stiff, hypervigilance fully awakened. Satoru used the momentum to straighten and infuse cursed energy into his grip, making the strength imbalance crystal clear.

“What the hell are you…” Kento hissed - Satoru noticed in delight the absence of fear in his words, just sheer anger. 

“How about” he interrupted, “ you make me stop talking?”

Kento yanked and matched Satoru's cursed energy just enough to negate it while pushing his hand back. It was nothing really, but both were strong enough for the parquet to burst. 

Satoru grasped Kento's ass and pulled him towards. Following the invitation, Kento agilely got on his face and rushed his dick into his open mouth. He exhaled and moaned while Satoru's throat spasmed under the effort. 

Kento withdrew and pushed himself in again, slowly, carefully. Every cautious thrust had him shiver in delight. He was aware of how demanding this position was for his partner, proportionally to how incredible it felt for him. He knew he was being too delicate for Satoru's tastes, but he could not bring himself to hurt him again. He was delaying the inescapable. Just a little longer, just a little... 

The inevitable finally occurred: Satoru angrily clasped his thighs and coerced him deeper, faster. Kento groaned, his nails wrecking the floor so hard blood and skin stained the wood. “Satoru”, he pleaded and threatened simultaneously, “Don't force me to...”. In response, Satoru pressed him harder, turning pleasure into suffering. Kento felt on his forearms. He closed his eyes and tried to centre around his laboured breathing, his heart's turmoil, his exhausted core. But in the end, it all got swept away by Satoru's throat's warmth, wetness and tightness. He gave in. 

He grabbed Satoru's hair, brutally moving his head for a better angle. Once found, he fucked his face ruthlessly, turned on by the quivering sound his partner made at every thrust. Satoru had also given in, his body following Kento's pace like a disarticulated doll. 

He heard Satoru's jaw crack several times while his lower abs hit his colleague's forehead like an enraged metronome. But he kept going, even accelerating, blind drunk on Satoru's painful throbbing, clenching and depth.

Something prevented him from coming this way. A pearl of wisdom shone from his mind's abysses, a truth that assured him that even the most incredible orgasm would never match the level of disgust he would experience afterwards. He knew it because it had already happened.

He sprung his cock out and straightened abruptly to find himself back straddling Satoru, who choked and mumbled a weak "fuck”, panting in exhaustion and frustration. Kento noticed his battered lips, haematomas forming on his neck and diluted blood drooling from his half-open mouth. He averted his sight, guilt creeping on him like an icy rain. 

Satoru's touch brought him back to the living room. His colleague was looking at him, beaming: “Hey cutie... Why the long face? You know I like it when you're rough”, he continued with a satisfied pout.

“What about what I like?" Kento wondered, soothed and saddened by Satoru's mischievous tone.

“Put it back”, Satoru demanded suddenly. “I want you to come in my mouth.”

Kento shook his head in disbelief: “Getting a bit too comfortable giving orders, aren't we?” Satoru laughed. 

Kento commenced kissing his way down his chest, biting his nipples, nibbling his abs, caressing his Apollo's belt... He usually refused to humour Satoru with oral sex, but right now, he longed for something he enjoyed thoroughly.

He adored the way he had his partner wail and twist and twitch. He could not help but pity him as well, guessing his extreme reactions were caused by the touch deprivation his status imposed on him. A literal barrier separating him from the world had transformed the simplest things into forbidden delights: fresh matinal breeze on one's face, the heat of summer dust, busy strangers brushing by on their way to work… 

Satoru rose a little and questioned suspiciously: “What are you doing? - Returning the favour. - You don't have to.”

Gosh, he was exhausting. 

“I know”, Kento remarked while meeting Satoru's eyes, his composure more menacing than comforting, “but I want to. Don't think I'm asking for permission here. So stop being an ungrateful idiot and enjoy.” 

Satoru stared at him in surprise and obeyed prudently. 

Kento teased his inner thighs with the tip of his tongue, causing his back to arch involuntarily. “And I haven't even really touched you yet”, he taunted. 

Reaching his cock, he licked his shaft from top to bottom before swallowing him all. He loved feeling his dick jolting and hardening in his mouth until having him entirely became challenging. He avidly licked the tip, swirling, tightening his lips before releasing and taking him all in again. He intensified, up and down, until his throat shuddered. Satoru was shaking and squirming, making it difficult for Kento to keep him in place. 

And then, the moment he dreaded as much as he yearned for happened: when Satoru became his everything. When his cries were the only sounds he could hear, his scent the only one he could sense, his movements the only impulses he could focus on. When only he was tangible, while the rest turned to dust in the wind, as the song said.

Satoru reflexively clutched at the floor, which splintered under his strength. His body was trembling vigorously, led by his partner's every move. Kento knew he had him on the brink.

Finally, Satoru shrieked and bent so hard his back cracked. Kento gagged on one last jab before the warm liquid filled his mouth. He downed part of it, savouring the rance flavour. 

He stood above Satoru, who had slung an arm over his face. He moved his hand. He kissed his forehead, cheek and eyelid. He wiped away his tears. 

Then, he cupped his mouth and squeezed: “Open it”. Satoru complied immediately. Kento drew nearer and spat the rest of the sperm inside. Satoru let out a quick laugh and kissed him greedily while swallowing. Kento closed his eyes, enjoying his colleague's lust. 

He lay down on Satoru, clasped his dick and nudged at his ass. Satoru whined, his hands roaming his coworker's back. “Yes... Yes...” was all he could repeat. 

Kento detached himself and stroked his dick against Satoru's, whose back cambered painfully. 

“Do you like this? he taunted.

- Yeah, but I… Aaaah…”.

He tried to grasp Kento's cock to force him in; anticipating, Kento pinned his wrist down.

“Uh uh. Lost for words?”

Satoru whined. Kento exhaled happily: even from his slightly elevated position, he could discern Satoru's heart pounding dangerously fast while his body contorted at every stroke. He was also at his limit, but watching his partner drowning in excruciating ecstasy was worth the pain. 

“I want you… Aaaaah… I want you inside… Please… I…”. Kento smiled, positioned himself, and pushed in.

Both groaned in relief. 

Kento would have preferred stillness for a bit, just appreciating Satoru's muscles clenching him, the salt of his skin, his aura enveloping him completely. He never considered belonging anywhere - except alongside Haibara - and it was undoubtedly the lot of every sorcerer or anyone aware enough of the horrors of the world. But there, Satoru made him feel right at home.

That was what he wished, but as often, Satoru had a divergent plan. He wrapped his arms and legs around his partner's back and waist, begging him to be rougher; Kento obliged. 

He settled on a rhythm that suited them both, their synchronised hips enhancing their satisfaction at every move. Kento kissed Satoru, who returned it fervently. They separated, out of breath, and spent a long moment gazing into each other's eyes, both astonished to find so much endearment there.

Satoru pushed Kento back and nimbly straddled him. Kento took a second to replace himself; then, comfortably sitting, he let his colleague take the lead, waves of arousal surging through him. He observed Satoru’s body undulating gracefully, aiming to bring the pleasure to new heights. Generally, the only times living felt right were when training, caring for and nurturing the kids. He knew how much of a parent figure he was to them and took pride in it. Yet, truthfully, they poured sense into this silly circus of existence. They kept him alive, not the opposite. 

And then, there were these ephemeral bubbles of pure joy suspended through space and time, thanks to Satoru. He made it all worthwhile in his own twisted way - the fights, the terrors, the madness, the continuous mourning. 

Everything began to shimmer. His being felt increasingly ethereal, deliciously pursuing Satoru's pace: the feeling was rare, powerful and all-encompassing, like a biblical but oddly reassuring storm. He drifted away until his colleague's burning breath and needy tone finally pierced through, returning him to complete and delectable awareness. 

Kento reeled himself back and clutched Satoru's ass to help him amplify his movements. “You take me so well”, he purred, and Satoru eagerly rode him, rolling his hips up and down his cock, shoving himself harder and harder at every thrust. 

Almost out of strength, Kento leaned back on Satoru while holding one of his legs up for better penetration. He fucked him passionately, giving everything to hold on just a little longer; watching his partner entirely at his mercy was enough of a reward. Feeling Satoru's dick hardening against him again, he requested, his voice broken by bliss and endeavour: “Come for me again.” 

Satoru's eyes revulsed, and his shoulders shrieked. Kento felt his cock jabbing, reacting positively to the demand despite the evident hurt it caused. He took his hands, fingers intertwined, encouraging. 

“I… Ahhh… I can't… - Of course, you can… Show me. - Noo… I… Fuck…”

Kento nudged him deeper, knowing full well which part he was relentlessly overstimulating until Satoru ultimately capitulated, arched and jerked achingly, his nails voraciously clawing his back. 

One more thrust and Kento felt a wet warmth covering his abs. Like a signal to let himself go, he pinned Satoru on the floor and fucked until his climax submerged him. He exhaled loudly while the tension exhausting his body converted into indescribable pleasure. Emptiness finally settled in, only traversed by a current warm like light, sweet like milk and honey and sublime like what the skies are made of. He moaned and sagged against Satoru, finally free. 

XXX

He came back to his senses, greeted by Satoru's loving arms.

He did not move for a while, appreciating the last sparkles of his orgasm echoing through him, like delicate stings wandering his frailed nerves and veins. Satoru was caressing his nape and kissing the side he had access to, his ear, cheek, neck crook.

Finally, Kento removed himself from his colleague's hold and lay on his back. Unexpectedly, Satoru rolled over and positioned himself on him, face resting on his chest. Kento tousled his hair, caressing his bruised neck and elbow, pleasantly surprised.

“Stay tonight”. Kento's words dissipated the silence. Satoru shook a little.  

“What?” 

He turned his head and was met with Kento's tired but content look. 

“Stay with me tonight. I like having you around”, he pronounced with a yawn. 

Satoru frowned suspiciously: “Are you sure you're OK?” he taunted, dismissing the request. “All this edging…

- You're so predictable,” Kento mocked. Satoru scowled at him, a little touché . Kento kept on: “And you're the epitome of annoying. But you're so much more... Look, would you appreciate me asking you to stay and stay?”

“You really have a way of making me feel vulnerable”, Satoru reflected. He scrutinised his colleague for a sign of defiance, a smirk, a weakness. But none of these: only the sheer honesty of the kindest person he knew. Something surrendered in him; not violently breaking, just gently conceding. “Only if you make me pancakes tomorrow”, he muttered, pressing himself against Kento. “We'll see about that. Now get up: there's no way I'm sleeping on the floor in my own flat.”

“Satoru?”

They were in bed, teasing each other with silly jokes and amused sarcasm; Satoru snuggled in Kento's warmth, enjoying his comforting scent. Fatigue was slowly taking its toll.

“Yes?

- I'm not going anywhere. You know that, right?”

Satoru's eyes opened wildly, his heart skipping a beat. He involuntarily held on to Kento tighter before promptly correcting himself. 

“I…”

He stopped. 

Instead of dismissing the question with laugh and gaslight, he compelled himself to answer truthfully, as much as he could.

“I don't... I don't know that, no. People… They tend to leave. One way or the other. But I wish…

- Well, I won't”, Kento interrupted softly. “I'll stay. I promise you that much”, he ended in an exhausted whisper before kissing his nose and sinking into serene dreams. 

Satoru stared at his friend for a while, the terrifying mightiness of his powers entirely focused on him. To discover... What? He did not know and did not find it anyway. 

Finally, his fingers skimmed Kento's chiselled jawline, careful not to wake him. He smiled gratefully, murmured a “thank you”, and curled up in his partner's embrace. 

Outside, in the neon madness of a city that never sleeps, a man with a scar on his forehead halted in front of the bookshop angling Kento's flat, his attention caught by a Shakespearean quote marked on the storefront. 

He read: “These violent delights have violent ends”.

ao3 link

[drbased]

'The Collective Giving Up' of Feminism

Part 1.

I've heard of radfems complain that feminism is 'couple's therapy for straight women' and in the middle of a huge rant last night a lot of things clicked into place for me: we're currently in the middle of a mass exodus from feminism. The hope of the first wave may have been primarily political, but from the second-wave onwards the focus has been on the personal, the psychological, the emotional. The desire to improve society, or improve men, has had an undercurrent of 'if we can do this, then men and women can finally live together in harmony. We just have to hope that men are merely ignorant of our suffering, and once they are made Aware, once they realise that recognition of women's humanity will not crumble society they will begrudgingly pick up the mop and bucket, a small smile forming on their faces.'

But as time has gone on, as women have gained even more rights and freedom, men have responded with increasing levels of ridiculousness. Not only that, but average man seems to be crummier than ever; he doesn't keep himself well-groomed, he's not skilled in the art of a trade, he can't do DIY, he doesn't want to court you with fine dining and lavish gifts - he expects your relationship to be 'equal' without doing an equal share of the work. You're still a hyper-feminine angel, he's more basic than ever. The romance books of stoic hunky protectors were all a blatant lie.

After this most recent wave of male backlash (gamergate, trumpism), the response has been by the majority of women to simply... give up on feminism entirely. We will never re-habilitate men, so what's the point in all of it?

So, let's go through the different responses of the 'Collective Giving Up':

Mainstream Feminism: Mainstream feminism has effectively re-branded. Now, its primary goal is not real feminist action, but a last sliver of hope that if we de-fang feminism enough, then men might calm down. But this is not for any long-term strategy; it's the equivalent of a woman talking softly and backing down when her abusive husband has a tantrum. Its other, more insidious goal has been to 're-educate' women who wish to use feminism as a liberation tool - a way of soothing angry women by ensuring them that they don't have to do anything or care about women (including themselves) to be feminist - and that's the most feminist thing of all! Especially because it means you get to keep buying things - isn't capitalism great!? But most importantly, mainstream feminist women are incredibly embarrassed and scared of their chosen position; feminism has been put on a spotlight for the past decade, and with men constantly laughing at sexist air conditioners and mansplaining, these scared women, with no social structures to turn to to ensure them that their criticisms are right, have been put on the back foot. Made incredibly insecure and fearful for the few freedoms we have, feminists have back-pedalled.

Trans-activism: Trans-activism has been the final nail in the coffin, a perfect excuse to backpedal without having to deal with cognitive dissonence; if 'gender' is the problem, then you never have to have that stupid air-conditioner argument ever again. phew.

BDSM acceptance: I've said before about what BDSM offers women, and I will try my best to sum it up here. BDSM offers the following to women: 1. recontextualisation of rape and abuse under a symbolic framework, where a new narrative can be reconstructed that it's mutually enjoyed and a demonstration of man's natural, animalistic desire; 2. a simplicity whereby the woman never has to worry if she wanted sex, or wanted to orgasm, or is even attracted to her partner, because she essentially exists in a storybook setting where both partners play pre-destined roles; 3. a situation where the man seems to be willing to reciprocate sexually the way she's always wanted him to - he will dress well, curate an atmosphere, show her full-blooded sexual desire, focus on her orgasm, buy her toys, surprise her etc.; 4. In the case of female domination/pegging, it means she finally gets a semblance of equality through supposed 'role-reversal' and she gets to feel safe from sexual violence whilst never questioning why penetration and submissiveness seem to be inexoriably linked. In other words, BDSM allows an illusion of mutuality, allowing women to believe that male sexual violence was never a problem all along, and if they just roll with it, then all will be well.

Porn/'sex work' acceptance: I originally put this together with BDSM acceptance, because both of them posit the same fundamental idea: that male sexual violence was never a problem all along, and that if women just roll with it, then all will be well. Porn/'sex work' in particular have a particular nasty undertone because they fit neatly into the madonna/whore framework. Modern feminism, dripping with postmodernism, wants to believe that 1. we can successfully remove the stigma and connotations from certain things and 2. that doing so fixes the problem of those things. Supporting porn and 'sex work' allows the typically more privilged feminist to pay lipservice to breaking down the madonna/whore framework whilst simultaneously indulging in it, safe in the knowledge that she's the one who's not participating in those professions and experiencing the horrors that come with them. To really illustrate the point, the fact that viewing porn is considered to not 'count' as cheating, demonstrates the essential dehumanisation of the people involved. But ultimately, all this is window-dressing for the real reason porn has been accepted: men have not only continued to watch porn but they have escalated it - so if you want to secure your chance at a relationship, you have to give up on feminism.

Femininity acceptance: this one is also pretty obvious, but I also want to draw attention to the fact that whilst femininity rituals have gone up, male grooming has gone down. Men don't wear suits regularly in public anymore. There has been a recent growth in some men participating in certain appearance-based self-harming such as cosmetic surgery, but overall the scales couldn't be any more tipped. In many ways this is part of the collective apology - the extra energy put in by the abused women to prove that she was never in any danger of leaving him.

[souliebird]

https://twitter.com/JamesRehwald/status/1805260620495012037?t=VvIUvD30oyyOA7pO_NTikA&s=19

americans be like: "mmmh, these two candidates are horrible but i'm gonna vote for this one, a genocide old democrat, he has been doing the same that the other genocide republican but in different font" 🥴

*by a non-american but whose country has suffered from.

That is pretty much the truth. It isn't joking when it's "the lesser of two evils" but that is why I constantly say vote in every election because then you can at least affect things at the state level. The president is a figure head and not the only one we are voting for!! We are voting for his counsel!

And would you rather vote for someone who can be influenced by that counsel or the narcissist who thinks he's an untouchable God?

**edited in: we have a two party system, so these are our only choices. In the current political atmosphere there is no chance of success for a third party. We have always been stuck with shit option A or shit option B. There is no other option for US citizens to vote for as much as we fucking don't want to vote for either.

Look at what is happening in Louisiana. It is gerrymandered to hell and they are trying to take away rights and force religious practices in schools. Those people were voted into power and you can vote them out, but you need to show up.

Georgia switched from Red to Blue bc people went out and voted!!

President and Congress refuse to codify Roe v Wade into law, we vote for people who do it at the state level, like in Michigan. We vote in the people who protect trans rights, we vote for gun control, we vote at the state level. We push.

We need to support those people. We need to support the journalist who sit in the press conferences and call out the hypocrisy. We need the journalist asking tough questions and making the politicians look like idiots.

We protest. We boycott. We make our voices loud and heard to the point the media starts changing their tune. Because that is how change happens.

Politicians listen to money, so you need to go after that, and media pressure is bigger than you think. Look at how the media has changed their tunes on Israel? Five years ago October 7th would have been a blip on the news, but because social media, people got to see the reality of things and not how the government wanted it portrayed.

We have Never seen so much support for Palestine. You go back to this time last year and ask the average person on the street what a Zionist is and they wouldn't be able to answer.

Now people know about the 1948 wars. They know what the Nakba was.

We do not want to be a part of genocide. People know what is happening, what has been happening, and they are angry.

That anger is what we need but you need to direct it to the places and people that matter! Yelling at someone on Tumbly dot com to feel better about yourself isn't it!!

In any country, if you are able to vote, go out and fucking vote.

Sorry if this is disjointed but I do feel passionately about this.

[safyresky]

Something Angry This Way Comes...

(Jacqueline Dies AU: Part 2! Finally! Read Part 1 HERE >:)

---

Somebody was at her daughter's grave.

This, of course, was a possibility. Winter knew that. Of course it was. After all, she had had aunties and a grandmother and a few little friends here and there. And her father came frequently, too. He always left fresh flowers. So did she. She liked to see them. It gave her a minute sense of relief to know that he was still on this earth with her.

Even if they hadn’t talked in centuries.

She hoped he felt the same when he saw her own offering at the base of the monument that bore the name of the little girl that was taken from them far too soon.

But Wednesday was her day to visit. Wednesday was open court at city hall, which meant that everyone who would visit would be tied up in politics and stuffiness and inquiries and all sorts of bureaucratic nonsense that would keep them busy for the day. And the only other person who would visit was locked away.

Nobody was around.

That’s why she had chosen Wednesdays.

Nobody would be.

But somebody was at her daughter’s grave.

The season sped up, her brow furrowing through a layer of ice as she got closer and closer to the marker. The figure became clearer. A woman. Standing in front of the monument with her hands on her hips. Something gold clutched in her right hand. Clothed in a familiar shade of dark blue. A pile of snow-white hair, perhaps meant to be curls but not quite curling, down to her mid back. Windswept, as though she had just met the wrong side of a north wind on a particularly stormy night.

She was within shouting distance. Winter hadn’t spoken in…quite some time. Not loudly, at least. But she tried. She inhaled; she opened her mouth, about to say EXCUSE ME quite loudly and forcibly and sternly, when something snapped under her foot.

The woman’s shoulders went up; she turned slightly, staring at Winter.

She gasped. The eyes, same colour as hers but a shade or two darker. The nose, an equal mix of hers and Blaise’s, like both kids had had, but not as crooked as his. Her chin, her lips, her hairline—she knew exactly who this woman was. But how? How was it possible—it wasn’t. Not in April, and certainly not this early in the month.

The bouquet fell to the ground; Winter’s hands flew to her mouth, eyes pricking and heart racing as all the pieces clicked into place.

Her daughter was standing at her own grave.

---

This was NOT how her day should have been going. She had not expected to be standing at her own fucking grave when she woke up very much alive this morning.

She was SUPPOSED to be doing a favour for Myles. He had needed a pot to trap some kind of chaos-y shade in because he had accidentally freed it and then promptly broken the pot when he tried to trap it again. The other Legates were preoccupied and he was trying to wrangle it and couldn’t grab a pot while he was chasing the thing, and she had, of course, offered to help. After all, she wasn’t doing much else; it was April, wintery things were tapering off, there were two weeks left before Summer and Winter went on this year’s vacation, and for all intents and purposes she and Jack were done for the first part of the year and quite relieved about it, too. It had been a nasty March and Winter was presently brewing a nasty ice storm for April that Spring was sure to be very, very mad about.

So she started ransacking the manor to find a pot that looked similar enough to the one Myles had described, hoping to finish up fast because it was date night and Dite was taking her to the KEG which, yes, a totally regular ordibeing restaurant, but she loved it. The steak, the atmosphere, and how FANCY it tried to be when it really wasn’t a FANCY restaurant, when you thought about it. She thought it was hilarious (and enjoyed the steak); Dite thought she was hilarious (and enjoyed seeing her ham it up whenever they went).

While she tore through the gallery, Jack had shouted about needing to do a thing for Father Time; she shouted back a see ya, wondering if maybe there were some old vases and such in the basement that would work.

Ten seconds later, a time splinter had appeared in her room, trying it’s very best to kill her, Jack saving her ass in a nick of time, and promptly roping her into the time-related debacle he had found himself dealing with that, SURPRISE, is your problem now too, little flurry!

So off she had gone with him, into the endless expanse of timelines and alternate universes, chasing the time splinter from one universe to the next, trying to lure it to the universe that had created it so they could finally destroy it.

But the stupid sliver had gotten smart.

It had managed to separate the pair, shooting them out in two different universes. They had tried to grab each other before being shot right out of the timestream, but unfortunately both of the frosty Frosts were a little bit on the shorter side and the last thing she had seen before nearly SPLATTING on the frozen solid tundra was her fingers slip right out of her brother’s as he was dragged into a deep purple portal opposite from her, disappearing as she was sucked into her own time portal with a disgusting sounding SLURP.

She had just barely made enough snow to cushion her fall before she was unceremoniously dropped into this freezing cold universe, the portal snapping shut above her.

In her hand, the timepiece had started cracking.

“Oh no. No, no, NO, not THIS shit again,” she said desperately, hoping that when she looked at the time piece it wouldn’t be doing what she thought it was doing—and it was, yep. The purple chrono-quartz below the intricate golden lines snaped and cracked into three pieces, phasing through the time piece with a deep glow and a low thrum to match. The three pieces floated way up into the sky, then blasted forward, much to her dismay.

She watched them disappear over the horizon with a sigh, leaving a trail of purple dust in its wake.

She knew the drill. Something in this universe needed to be fixed before she could try to escape it.

So, with a sigh, she started forward, following the time trail before it disappeared completely.

---

And that’s how, an hour later, she found herself face to face with her own bloody grave.

It was a nice marker, for sure. Blues and yellows with snowflakes etched all over it, a fluffy blanket of the stuff sitting on top of the three peaks a foot or two above her head. Her name was etched into the stone, as clean as though it were carved yesterday, but the date on the stone showed otherwise. She felt her breath hitch in her throat when she read it.

556 CE.

The Day of Darkness.

She had died.

Jack had killed her dead.

“Oh,” she said, quietly. “Fuck.”

She glanced around, awkwardly; it was quiet. Empty. A wind briefly ruffled the vines and ivy twirling up the side of the monument.

The chrono quartz had gone this way. The trail, now gone, had ended right above the monument. Her monument. Her fucking GRAVE.

If she was dead, she was dead. There was no fixing that.

But there was something she did need to fix, and quite frankly, the less time she had to spend in THIS timeline the better. Timelines where she didn’t exist were one thing. But a timeline where she had died? Heebie-jeebies galore.

So, she got to work.

She walked around the monument a few times, careful not to disturb the flowers that had been left at the base. She scrutinized the thing top down, feeling more and more unsettled the longer she searched—but nothing.

The pieces weren’t there.

“But the trail...” she mumbled to herself.

With a sigh, she ran her hands through her hair, resting them on her hips. Trail had gone here. Time pieces were not here. Where had they gone, then? Had someone come by and taken them in the hour it had taken her to walk up here? Although, the time pieces could phase through objects. And planes, too. Did the pieces maybe—

There was a crunch; she jumped, startled, her shoulders shooting up.

Someone had joined her.

She turned her head, gasping when she saw who was steadily rushing up the slight incline towards her.

“Winter?!”

The woman, now in front of her, certainly looked like her mother. The small gasp sounded just like her; the height checked out. But her eyes were cold as could be, even colder than she had ever seen when her Winter had been frozen. There was no warmth on her face; her hair, usually thawed and perched in a sort of snowman esque double top bun Jacqueline couldn’t ever figure out, was frozen stiff. Her body was shaking, but her hair did not move. It was in one big, sleek bun; even the sticky-outties she had that Jacqueline had to deal with too were somehow smoothed back and in place (a miracle if there ever was one. There was a reason Jacqueline called them her hair sticky-outties).

“Oh my word,” the woman croaked. “It is you.”

She collapsed to the ground, straight up sobbing, and Jacqueline had never felt so uncomfortable in her entire life. She sighed, gently sitting down on her knees and placing a hand, very carefully, very softly, on her Mother’s knee.

“Well, yes, but also, no.”

Winter’s face shot up. “Of course not. It’s not a convergence date.”

“I gathered. I’ve never seen this place so empty in my life.”

“And you—she—you. You were little when you. When you.”

“Died.”

Winter nodded.

“Yeah, I noticed,” she said, gesturing back to the date in the stone.

“I don’t understand—”

“That makes two of us,” Jacqueline said. “You don’t happen to have three pieces of chrono quartz on you? Time crystals, I think they’re also called? They would’ve appeared very suddenly about uh,” she reached into her pocket and pulled something long and flat out. “An hour or so ago?”

Stunned into silence still, unsure what to even do or say, choking on all the emotions in her throat, Winter shook her head no.

“Dang. That would’ve made this way easier.”

“Made what easier? I don’t understand,” she said, smothering the emotions and finding her voice. “What is going on? I’d thank you kindly to explain it to me,” Winter snapped, still shaking a bit. “Who are you?”

“Jacqueline. Jacqueline Frost. Your daughter. That’s who I am. But I’m not from this timeline,” she answered, thrusting her hand back into her pocket and rummaging about. She pulled out a long, light blue, leather wallet, and cracked one of three sides open. She slid it onto Winter’s lap, pointing at the photo in the clear pocket on front, usually reserved for a licence. “This is the timeline I’m from. See? There’s me. And you and Dad,” she said, pointing to the couple above her.

Hands shaky, Winter reached out and brought the wallet up to her face. She could scarce recognize the couple in the photo. Blaise was laughing, his eyes crinkling in the corners. He held her tightly, his suit molten, his hair living up to his namesake (she missed his fiery locks). The woman beside him was even more unrecognizable. Warm. Not frozen at all. Her hair a messy double bun, with her own laugh lines to match his. They held onto each other tightly. She could almost feel the ghost of his warm embrace, the surety that came with one of his hugs.

And there was the woman in front of her. Her daughter, her baby girl. Grinning with snow falling down her face, a pale hand having smooshed a snowball right onto the top of her head as the photo was snapped. Winter glanced over, briefly, to the figure beside this Jacqueline.

That was her baby boy.

Beside her. Alive and well. Both of them alive and well.

She looked up at Jacqueline, her eyes wide. “It is you. But it isn’t. And this is how we are, where you come from?”

Jacqueline nodded, gently pushing Winter’s thumbs down. “And there’s more of us.”

Winter looked back down, moving her thumbs the rest of the way. “Oh.”

Below the two eldest were a pair of twins, most certainly. Both took after Blaise; both had fiery hair, and both were making the silliest faces you could possibly imagine. Fingers stretching the mouth of the girl, her tongue sticking out. The boy blowing a raspberry, making little bunny ears behind the girl’s head.

“Oh, look at them. Little spitfires. We always wanted to have more kids.”

“I shouldn’t ask. I shouldn’t get involved, I should just find my shit and get out of here, but holy shit, I need to know. What happened to you?” Jacqueline asked, gently sliding the wallet out of her mother’s hands.

“I—we—oh. Oh, I don’t quite know, come to think of it. Nobody’s ever asked,” she said, another sob escaping. “I—we. It. Everything was so—” she flailed her hands in the air a bit, trying desperately to find the words she wanted to say.

“It’s okay, take your time. I’m not going anywhere. Not until I find those crystals,” she said, glancing surreptitiously at the monument behind her with a frown.

“He killed you,” she finally said, her breath hitching. “You died in my arms. There was nothing we could do. The storm…it…we couldn’t get to the Springs in time and you. You died.” She pressed the base of her palms to her eyes with a shaky inhale. “He ran. Your Father and I laid you to rest. We watched your little tiny body pop off into Rosehaven. And then we had to face what would come next.”

“Both kids gone in different ways,” Jacqueline mused, looking thoughtful.

Winter nodded, without looking up. The icy white dress she wore blurred beneath her tears. She sniffled. “Yes. And your father, he had to find your brother. But he couldn’t bring himself to start, he was feeling so much—and he hardened his heart not long after I did the same to myself.”

“Oh,” Jacqueline said, realizing what had probably happened. Blaise was a very dutiful sprite, though very emotional. And she had heard the stories from the both of them, about the war of succession, and how Blaise had tried, fruitlessly, to reason with him, not wanting to hurt his brother—but learning that if he wanted to end it, do what needed to be done…he’d have to put aside those feelings to focus on the task at hand.

And so he had.

“We drifted, I suppose. We didn’t talk; he threw himself into trying to bring you justice,” Winter said, gently laying her hand on Jacqueline’s cheek. Her breath hitched again; Jacqueline brought up her shoulder, squishing Winter’s hand between it and her cheek with a soft smile.

“That wasn’t going to bring me back,” Jacqueline said softly.

“That’s what I told him!” Winter said with a huff. “He didn’t reply. A conversation with him was rare. So, I found solace in the mountains. And eventually I made them my home,” she said, with a helpless little shrug.

“So I died, and you ran off to the mountains and became the new Snow Queen.”

"I suppose...yes. I did.”

“Why not come see me on a convergence? They aren’t rare. They happen once or twice a year.”

“I couldn’t bring myself to. Neither of us could.”

Jacqueline stood up. “So let me get this straight,” she said, her prior annoyance coming right back, with a slight pinch of anger dusted on top. “I died, and instead of supporting each other and sharing your grief, you and Blaise both decided to harden your hearts and run away from home? And you didn’t come to see me?!”

“Your father didn’t run away from home,” Winter said, standing up gracefully and folding her hands in front of her. “He’s still there.”

“But he ran away from his home,” Jacqueline said, pointing at Winter’s heart. “And so did you. All the way up in the mountains! And you left me alone, waiting?!”

“I visit you every week!” Winter snapped. “So does your father!”

“You visit my MARKER! NOT my ME! I can guarantee you, Winter, that that little girl sat and waited on the other side for the very first convergence after she passed, hoping to see her Mom and Dad and Brother again.”

“HOW could you KNOW that?!”

“BECAUSE I AM HER! And I may not have died, but when this,” she said, gesturing violently at the date on the stone, “happened to me, and I recovered BECAUSE you and Dad worked together to keep me stable UNTIL you could blaze a trail to the springs, I waited! Every day, for so long, I sat and waited and hoped that he’d come back but he didn’t. And now, now, I’m learning, that not only did he not come back, nor did my PARENTS?!” Jacqueline let out a little squawk of rage, stomping around this version of her Mother. “She’s still a little four-hundred-year-old girl over there! Do YOU think she understands all THIS?!” Jacqueline said, gesturing at all of Winter. “NO! SHE DOESN’T because I DIDN’T until I was like, fourteen hundred! And she doesn’t get that luxury. She doesn’t get to grow up and figure it out herself, so the LEAST you COULD’VE done was gone to visit her during a goddess damned convergence!”

Winter was stunned. What horrible things to say, she thought. But they were true. And Jacqueline was right. Winter felt…lost. More so than usual. A lot of. Things. Were coming to the surface and she was utterly speechless.

“Nothing to say? That’s not surprising, you’re about as frosted up as they come, eh Mom? I’ll leave you to your fake visit, then,” Jacqueline said, stomping back down the way Winter had come up, a trail of frost sprawling out from her boot every time one hit the ground.

“Wait! Jacqueline! Where are you going?!”

“HOME,” she said angrily, flashing one last frustrated look back up at Winter before disappearing on the spot.

Winter was left to her solitude once more. Alone. She should have been relieved.

But she wasn’t.

“Home…” she murmured to herself. She gasped, eyes growing wide. “Oh dear,” she said, setting off after Jacqueline.

---

How had this day gotten so out of control?!

She couldn’t believe what she had seen. First her own grave, then a mother so far lost in her grief she was barely recognizable? And learning what had happened? The Convergences existed for a reason—to see the loved ones you had lost, if only for a brief night. It was a nice time! It was fun! Roseterra glowed and would be filled with both the living magibeans and the dead, laughing and catching up and talking about what they had missed on both ends of the things, and god if she had died, she knew she would’ve waited in the hopes she’d see Mom and Dad and Jack again and—

“Oh my gods. Jacqueline. FOCUS,” she said to herself, as she pushed open the rusty gates and stomped up the pathway. The roses were sad. Wilting, but not dead. The ground looked weird, not covered in snow but frozen solid. The Manor loomed ahead. Pristine as the day it was painted white. Not a scorch mark in sight. The windows were dark and cold; not a single light was on. Her home, usually cheery and loud and happy, was cold. Cold, dark, and empty.

“This is all sorts of fucked up,” she said out loud.

What was she going to do today originally? Oh yeah! Find a pot, trap a. Thingy, then enjoy a steak at the Keg with the love of her life. Perfect day! Would have been a PERFECT day!

But now she had seen her own grave, confronted her lost in grief mother, yelled at her for ignoring her daughter even though she was dead, and was now stomping up the derelict stairs to the front porch of Frost Manor, the wooden deck boards greying, not a single piece of colourful mismatched patio furniture in her sights. What even was this place?

She didn’t bother to knock; she tried the door.

It wasn’t locked.

The door swung in with a creak, a cold gust of wind blowing down the hallways. It echoed, a low hum throughout the empty halls. The ghost of what could have been. The windowpanes rattled; the cobwebs, built up over time, gently waved in the draft. She ran a finger along one of the shoe racks as she closed the door, a trail left in the dust.

She walked in, the metallic clink of her boots echoing throughout the cold marble hall. The door to the front room with the window she waited under was closed shut. Ha, she thought, the symbolism not lost on her.

The blue parlour was closed, too; she tried the handle. Locked. Made her way into the kitchen.

It looked lived in. It was cleaner than the rest of the house. The plants that Spring kept giving them still sat in their perches, but they had seen much better days, most certainly; and there were less of them than she remembered. She stepped around the table (noting that the leaf had been taken out and it had been brought down to its smallest possible size) and poked her head into the living room.

Empty. Pristine. Dusty. Cobwebby. Severe lack of throws and cushions.

“Oh, Dad. What have you done,” she mused, leaving the doorway and heading back out into the hall. She glanced up the stairs. It was dark as ever up there, the draft howling down the steps. She shoved past, beelining to the other side of the steps.

Ballroom. Library. Closed. No light.

But the office…the dullest glow under the crack.

She stepped carefully; lightly, like the first few snowflakes that slowly drifted in on the wind, landing on the ground softly. Quietly. She placed her hand on the doorknob. She frowned. Maybe…just to be safe.

She knocked; her fist flattening, splayed out on the door.

There was no answer.

She turned the knob, opening the door a crack. Peeking one eye in, she glanced around.

The fireplace was on, but not roaring. The embers softly cackled, the fire out of food. Jacqueline stepped through the door, glancing around the office. The firewood was right where he kept it, back at home.

She grabbed a couple of smaller logs, not quite twigs but not quite sticks, and gently lay them in the fireplace. She may not have been able to create fire, but Blaise sure as shit made sure his kids could start fires regardless of their elemental backgrounds.

The flames licked the logs hungrily, the simmer becoming a crackle. Satisfied, Jacqueline moved away from the fireplace, trailing her fingers on the solid mahogany trim of the desk as she surveyed the office.

It was certainly lived in, that’s for sure. The chair was worn, the cushion in dire need of reupholstering. The desk was a tidy mess, piles of paper stacked neatly. Orderly. It was a stark difference from her dad’s office back at home, with papers laying around all over the place, pens and quills beside half written notes, the coaster sporting rings from numerous warm drinks.

The coaster on this Blaise’s desk was too clean. Far too clean.

There was a thunk out in the hall. The door slammed shut; a heavy footfall approaching. Jacqueline gasped, turning quickly to face the door. The coaster went flying, hitting the mantle as loud as it possibly could, and falling to the ground with a clatter, making sure to do three flips before settling for MAXIMUM NOISE, of course. Just her luck on this fine, fine, day.

“Who’s there?” a voice said. It was familiar, but also…not. It was gruffer than usual; a little hoarse. And there wasn’t much warmth. Yeah, a weird sentiment, but when her dad spoke, you could just feel a sort of warmth, usually. She backed up, behind the desk, finding herself shifting into a defensive stance and unsure why.

“I heard you drop the coaster,” he said, his footsteps coming towards the office. “Final warning. Who’s. There.”

The door was shoved open, and Jacqueline gasped once again, this time, in surprise.

“What the fuck happened to you?!” she said, equal parts confused and almost…disgusted, the same time that Blaise growled and said, “Who the hell do you think you are?!”

It wasn’t that he looked bad. He just didn’t look like Blaise. Like, he did but he didn’t. Granted, Jacqueline had never actually seen what a frozen summer sprite looked like. Or I guess stony, she thought, as she quickly eyed him up and down, still in her defensive stance.

His fiery hair was out, but not the usual greying-orange. It was dark. Ashen. Grey flakes drifted down every so often. It was a fire that had burnt completely, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake. His usual molten suit was dark as obsidian. Like lava that had rapidly cooled. His face was lined, but not in the way she was used to; he looked frownier than he did at home, his smile lines faint as could be. Though she could make out the faint crinkles of crow’s feet still near his eyes. It should’ve been a welcome sight, you know? Like, maybe her Dad was still in there somewhere.

But it was not. It only made her feel more unsettled.

“Like, did someone like, set you on fire with fire that wasn’t like, fire you’re fireproofed to? Is that ash coming off of your HEAD?!”

“I don’t answer to you,” Blaise said, taking another step into the office. “You answer to me. You’ve broken into my house.”

“You left the door unlocked! I’d hardly call that breaking and entering.”

“Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?”

“You don’t know who I am?”

“I know who you look like, but that’s not possible. There’s no way. Tell me, is this a trick? Is he trying something? Centuries without a peep, and now this? Was he biding his time? You sound just like him.” He took a step closer with each question, Jacqueline stepping back with each of his steps. He rounded the desk as she rounded the other side, the door now behind her. “You have ten seconds,” he said, with a fierce air of finality.

Jacqueline inhaled, shoved her hands in her pockets, and spoke very, very fast.

“I am exactly who you think I am but also not quite! I’m not from this timeline, I’m from a different one and I have proof, here you GO,” she said, tossing her wallet at the ashen man in front of her. “And please don’t burn it. It has all my ID in it. Which is kind of important. I still get carded at the LCBCS.”

Blaise looked up at her, his orange eyes stony. Suspicious. His lips were pressed together in a tight line, but he humoured her; he had been presented with evidence, after all. Fair is fair. He watched her wearily, cracking open the wallet without looking.

“Clear pocket. Right on the first fold.”

“Hands where I can see them,” he growled.

“Alright, alright, chill,” Jacqueline said, putting her hands up and glaring right back. “Take a looksie. See for yourself.”

Only when her hands were above her head did Blaise glance down at the photo.

His breath hitched. He tried to take it all in at once; all six figures. He glanced back up as he reached the middle, matching the young woman in the photo below him with the young woman looking a little more pissed off with each passing second in front of him. The Jack look, as Winter once called it, when he saw his eldest beside this version of Jacqueline. And below them, below the frosty pair, was a fiery pair, making goofy faces. Summer sprites. Like him.

Twins.

“They get along?”

“Too well some days, which would be worrying if they didn’t occasionally tackle each other down for a quick little fistfight. But like, they’re not going to start a war, since we both know that that’s what you’re thinking about, eh?”

Blaise didn’t reply. He glanced back down at the photo. He snapped his fingers, a little flame appearing on his pointer finger. He touched it to the wick of the candle beside him, surveying the photo in better light. Winter. His darling wife. Toasty warm and laughing, looking up at him with all the love in the world. The flame flickered; he looked at the man beside her. Lit up like the goat in Sweden during the holiday season, all smiles and laughter. He tilted the photo. The glare from the candlelight obscured it, his own stony face looking back at him instead.

He fell back into his seat, shoving the wallet across the desk as he collapsed, holding his head in both hands, completely messing up his ashy hair.

“What is going on here.”

Jacqueline put down her hands, heading over to the east side of the office. “Well, in the timeline I’m from, I survived,” she said, dragging over the spare chair. “You and Mom staunched the bleeding and stabilized me. Kept a close eye on me until you could get to the springs and finish the healing process. You, mostly. Once the wounds were taken care of, Mom passed right out,” she finished, the chair stopping in front of his desk. “But right when it happened, you worked together. And you both saved me. Amazing what happens when you work together, instead of, you know, hiding away from one another and hardening your hearts and not talking ever at all and ALSO, not VISITING ME!”

“HEY. I visit you every day! Except Wednesdays. Town Hall is on Wednesdays.”

“And convergences,” Jacqueline snapped, slamming her hands on the desk before sitting down on the chair, surveying Blaise with a very, angry look. “You don’t come on the one day you could actually see me. What the fuck, man.”

“Watch your language, missy. You may be from a different timeline, but I’m still your father.”

“You’re actually nothing like my Blaise,” Jacqueline said with a sniff, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “He—”

“SAVED you. I get it. I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

“No. I mean yeah, he did. But no. He was there for his family. Looks to me like you haven’t been. They needed you, Blaise. And you did this instead. And I know for a fact that you needed them, too.”

“I—” Blaise stopped, opening and closing his mouth. He frowned, clasping his hands together and placing them in front of his face, lost for words.

“Mhmm. Yeah. That’s what I thought,” she said, shifting in her seat. “Look, I won’t be all up in your, uh, ash for too long, Blaise,” she said. “I came for one thing. Well, two things, actually.”

“What, to yell?”

“No, that just comes with the territory. I am a very angry sprite. It’s very inconvenient most days.”

“You inherited my temper, I see.”

“Regrettably,” Jacqueline said, scrunching her face. “But that’s not important right now. What I need to know is why the hell. This!” she said, gesturing to him. “Why did you do this?”

Blaise’s posture, up until then, had been immaculate. But when the ghost of his daughter demanded to know why this had happened, his shoulders fell; his back slouched, his stony façade turned sad. “You were murdered,” he simply said. “By my son. Your own brother. I couldn’t let him go unpunished! You died. But he was—he is my son. But you were—are—my daughter! My emotions were blinding me to what needed to be done, once again, and so I—”

“Got stoned.”

Blaise frowned. “Har-har,” he said, unlaughingly.

“I don’t like puns,” Jacqueline clarified.

“A shame,” Blaise said back. “That was a good one.”

“I never would’ve guessed,” Jacqueline snapped back. “So you did this, and then went on a whole catch me if you can kind of journey with Jack?”

“He needed to be brought to justice! You needed justice!”

“DID I?” Jacqueline demanded, shooting out of her seat. The chair teetered behind her briefly, choosing not to fall over. “Because I am DEAD. I don’t need ANYTHING when I’m DEAD, Dad. And here’s the thing, right? We’re not ordibeings. We’re MAGIBEINGS. And our afterlife actually lets us VISIT WITH THE DEAD ON CERTAIN DAYS! YEARLY! SOMETIMES TWICE A YEAR! So instead of going to see me on a convergence, you decided you knew what I needed and just, just, became obsessed with this chase and for what? I’M not the one who needed justice. You thought that I did. That you did. But that’s not what you needed and we both know that, don’t we?”

“How could you know all of this?”

“Because I AM Jacqueline! I am that little girl who died in her mother’s arms, but I didn’t die! And do you know what I did when I got better, Dad? Hmm? I WAITED. I waited for my brother to come home, and he never did. So I can guarantee that your little girl waited convergence after convergence, hoping to see you and Mom and even JACK, but none of you came! None of you came! You left her waiting. Left ME waiting!”

“We couldn’t—I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to go and face you after all that had happened—”

“Save it. I’m not the one who needs to hear it. She is. And she’s not here. I am.”

She took a deep breath in, composing herself, pushing off the desk and heading towards the door.

“I’m going to go now before I EXPLODE. Just one more thing before I go,” she said, turning around. “You wouldn’t happen to have come into possession of three time crystals about, oh, an hour and a half or so ago?”

“Some what?”

“That’s a no, then? UGH. Lady damn it ALL,” she said, stomping down the hall.

“Jacqueline, wait!” Blaise called after her, rushing to catch up with her. “Where are you going?”

“I have one more place to check for those time crystals. You and I both know where I’m headed next,” she said, a literal icy undercurrent in her voice. “Tell me where you put him.”

“I—you can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

“Like hell it is! I can handle myself, and you know that if you don’t tell me I’ll find out one way or the other, Blaise. So tell me. Where. Did. You. Put. Him.”

Blaise sighed. “We built an entire prison just for him. The rehabilitation programs at the Pen did nothing for him; he refused to even try. He escaped multiple times, and each and every time I was there, ready to find out how and stop it from ever happening again. One too many escapes later, and the Assembly decided to fund a whole new prison just for him. A solitary. That’s what we’ve called it. The Solitary. It’s in the East.”

“Oh my goddess of the springs. A whole ass prison just for him? This is the worst timeline I have been in today. I hate it here. Right, I’m gonna head out and do that, and you know what you’re going to do? YOU’RE going to go to your wife and give her a hug, for Frost’s sake! You need your loved ones, Blaise. Stop being stupid.”

And before he could reply, she stomped out the front door and poofed into a shower of light blue sparks and snowflakes, disappearing.

“Jacqueline!” he shouted, though he knew his efforts were in vain.

She was long gone.

The shout echoed. But it sounded…off. It sounded…

It wasn’t his voice.

He stepped out onto the porch. A figure stood by the gates. Graceful; shapely.

He’d recognize her anywhere.

“Winter?” he said, quietly.

“Blaise,” she replied, just as quietly.

Something had changed. Something shifted. They both stared across the path at each other, the winds howling.

They ran.

They both ran, beelining down the path, crashing into a familiar, comforting embrace. She still smelt the same; Blaise pressed her head close to his chest, breathing her in deeply. And he was still so sturdy; his hugs were still so very comforting, Winter was happy to learn, as she pressed herself against his chest, her ear on his heart. Hearing it beat.

“I’m so sorry,” they both said at the same time, still hugging one another.

“I don’t know why I didn’t open up,” Blaise said. “I’m sorry. I should have shared with you. I should have supported you.”

“And I you,” Winter said, squeezing him tighter. “I’ve had the strangest encounter today, and I... I needed you. Need you. Miss you.”

Blaise sighed, content, squeezing her tightly. “And I you. Tell me something, Winter. Did you see an adult Jacqueline today?”

“I did,” she said, pushing herself off his chest to look up at his face. She placed her palm on his cheek, rubbing it softly with her thumb. She smiled. “Did you?”

“I did, too,” he said, placing his chin on top of her head. The tinniest peck pressed onto his neck. His heart fluttered; sparks drifted up from his head. “She yelled at me. A lot.”

“She yelled at me, too. But she said some things that got me thinking, and brought it all back. As if seeing our fully grown dead daughter wasn’t enough, she was also. Oh. There’s this phrase the winds have whispered to me...ah! Yes. She was spitting facts, and all of that brought everything back. I don’t know why I shied away from you, darling. I needed you. I need you. I love you. And I’m sorry.”

Now Blaise pulled away, his large hand on Winter’s small face. He gave her a warm smile, rubbing her cheek as well. “Not as sorry as I am. I need you, too. So much. I love you,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “And I’m sorry for pulling away and throwing myself into the stupid game of cat and mouse Jack and I played—oh. Oh shit,” Blaise said, blanching.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Jacqueline. She's heading his way,” Blaise said, squeezing Winter’s arms. “We need to hurry. I don’t know what she’s planning on doing, but if she’s headed towards him...”

“There is no way that could possibly be good,” Winter agreed, rushing after Blaise, the two heading east as fast as they could.

---

Deny it all as he might, she’s still always just there.

It was very irritating.

She’s stopped giggling; there’s no whispers of whoops or silly sounds anymore. She’s just there, looking sad, and he brings the book closer to his face so he doesn’t have to see the ghost he trapped in the Solitary with him. The Solitary. He really oughta think of a better name.

But he just doesn’t have the energy, the drive, the…whatever.

There was a reason he froze the place solid and stayed put.

He tried to focus on his book. Reading the same sentence, over and over. He exhaled, annoyed, putting the book down and expecting to see her in front of him.

But she’s gone. There are no flickers of white or quick wisps of messy dark hair turning a corner.

It’s empty. The wind blows through the area, mournfully. Even with the furniture he had gotten, the other odds and ends, it is still loud and echoey. He sighed.

Creak.

What was that?

He strained his ears. The creaking was getting louder, shifting into a loud CRACK, somewhere above him. He looked up so fast he almost gave himself whiplash.

The ceiling was splitting.

“What?” he croaked, his voice not as hoarse as you’d expect.

Down the hall, there was a smack. A bang. A shink or two. A thunk against the wall, and a low groan.

“Marcel?” he called out.

Footsteps were approaching, but they didn’t sound familiar. They’re boots. There’s a weird metal click to them. He shot up, hands aglow, ready for whatever. Whoever was coming his way.

But nothing could've prepared him for who stepped through the tunnel.

She was an inch or two shorter than him; very much most definitely a winter sprite. She stopped in the doorway, looking at him unimpressed, an eyebrow raised. He found himself backing up; he could see the similar features, and his thoughts drifted back to the ghost of the small girl he was always seeing. Add a touch of roundness and a bit of baby fat and unfreeze the hair, and, well.

It’s her. It’s one hundred percent her.

“Marcel’s DEAD,” she said.

“What?” Jack asked, what little colour there was in his face draining.

“Ha! I’m kidding. He’ll be fine,” she replied with a small, impish smile. It dropped suddenly; she squinted. “Probably. So quick question for you, Jack,” she continued, walking right up to him without a care in the world. “Was the several meters of ice to keep people out? Or keep you in? Because let me tell you, it was a shit job. I cracked through it easily.”

“You can’t be here,” he heard himself saying. “You shouldn’t be here! You…I…”

“YEAH. I am AWARE. You killed me dead. This is the FOURTH TIME TODAY someone has REMINDED ME, as if you can easily shake coming face to face with your own damn grave marker,” she said with a huff. “So what’s you’re deal? I’m surprised you let yourself get captured. My GOD you look frosty,” she finished, right beside him now. She knocked on his frozen spikes.

“Hey! Cut it out,” he snapped, pushing her hand away.

“No need to be nippy,” she sassed back, hands on her hips.

Jack straight up recoiled. He was pretty damn positive now: the sprite in front of him was his long dead sister. A little younger than she would’ve been now, had she survived. Had she lived. Had he not…killed her. He backed up a few steps, the edge of the plush seat hitting the back of his knees.

All the thoughts, all the feelings, all of the things he had wondered that he had pushed down down down came screaming up to the surface as he collapsed into his chair.

For once in his life, he found himself utterly speechless.

“Okay, so I’m going to guess you’ve just been living in denial,” his sister said, not a ghost but actually real, and alive, and in front of him. “You sit there and process, I don’t plan on being long. I’ve about HAD IT up to HERE,” she half yelled, putting her hand high above her head, “with this AWFUL timeline. You know how my day started, Jack? I just needed to find a pot for Myles. That’s it! To trap a little chaotic shade! And NOW I’ve been pulled into yet ANOTHER alternate universe, and goddess above, I thought the one where Bernard and I were a THING was bad, this one is by FAR worse!” she said, her arms crossed at her chest briefly before she dropped them, the ground around her cracking in response. “I’ve already tried Mom, and Dad, and if you don’t have what I need then I am going to have to do something very, very crazy that only one other person I know of has done before and lived to tell the tale. Did three time crystals, little purple-ish quartz looking things, appear around you about, uh,” she pulled something out of her pocket and squinted at it. “Three hours ago?”

Still speechless, Jack shook his head no.

“Goddess damn it ALL!” his very alive, very angry little sister said, throwing her hands down and stomping her foot. The cracks below her deepened. “I have a GIRLFRIEND, I don’t have the option to seduce a powerful castor right now!”

“You have a girlfriend?” Jack found himself asking.

“What, you got a problem with that?”

“No, of course not, I—”

“Yeah, I know dude. I’ve met some of your partners,” she said with a smirk that made Jack blush a bit and clear his throat. “Some of them are real cool. There’s one that Fiera’s like, determined to fight for some reason that’s very baffling to all of us—”

“Who’s Fiera?”

“Oh. Right,” Jacqueline says. “I died so the twins never came around, right. Here you go,” she said, throwing a long leather object his way.

Snatching it clean out of the air, he flipped open the unbuttoned side, coming face to face with a wallet sized family photo.

“Fiera’s the girl on fire, and Fino’s her twin, the boy who is also on fire. The universe I come from, where I survive, they exist.”

Jack stared at the him in the photo, happily smooshing a pile of snow on his Jacqueline’s head, their younger siblings below them making funny faces, and their parents above them, together, lost in each other’s eyes. He felt a pang in his chest as he came to the quiet realization that, oh. He kind of. He kind of missed them.

A pale hand stretched out in his peripheral. He glanced over; Jacqueline had her hand out, looking unimpressed. “Wallet please,” she said.

He snapped it closed, passing it back to her.

“Thank you,” she said, shoving it back in her pocket. She turned on her heel, heading back out the way she came.

“Wait! Don’t. Don’t go yet,” he said, unsure why but knowing he couldn’t let her leave just yet.

She stopped in the doorway, standing still; head tilted.

“I didn’t—I never meant to. It wasn’t my intent—” he took a deep breath. “You know, right? You know it wasn’t. That I didn’t. That I—”

“Never wanted to hurt me,” she said softly, still not turning around. “It was an accident. You were having a big emotions night and your powers were going crazy, and your hand slipped. Yeah. I know. You told me. That is, my you told me.”

His shoulders sagged; he could feel something...wet trailing down his cheeks. He touched his cheek, brushing away tear tracks of all things.

His sister watches. For the briefest of moments, as their gazes meet, the fury falls away. She looks so very concerned, and he can see her hands twitch upwards, not in defence or offence but as though she wanted to reach out and give him comfort.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, voice barely a whisper.

And then it’s gone. The fury is back. She took a deep breath in, nostrils flaring. “It’s not me who needs to hear that,” she replied, rage withheld. “It’s her.”

And for a moment, he feels her. The little ghost he trapped in the solitary with him. He whips around.

A flicker of white.

A tress of dark hair, disappearing round the bend.

He turns back around.

The other ghost, the real one, is gone.

---

Stepping over the unconscious guards and hopping out of the Jacquie-sized crack in the ice she had made, Jacqueline stopped, bending over, hands on her knees.

She could feel herself breathing very fast. Her heart was racing; there was a nasty heat behind her eyes. She wanted so badly to just stop, and cry, and sob, because holy shit. Holy FUCKING shit. This day is so. What the fuck. This TIMELINE is so. What the fuck.

“OKAY Jacqueline,” she said out loud, snapping back up. “Focus.”

Her voice sounded heavy. She took a deep breath in; held it a bit, staring at the tips of her fingers before finally exhaling. “We can have a nice long frustrated cry later, when we’re NOT trying to escape the JACQUELINE DIES timeline.”

Another deep breath. Her hands pressed together, in front of her face. Her nose scrunched, forehead wrinkling as she thought of her next steps.

“I need to break into Rosehaven,” she mused, tapping her lips. “Which means, off to the east I go! I’ve got a wicked old witch to see. But first!”

Turning around, Jacqueline rested her palms on the icy walls beside her exit. With a fierce look of concentration, hands aglow, the ice beneath her grew, covering the dent she made, a smooth patch appearing right over the jagged, pointy, inside out job.

“There we go,” she said, surveying her work, hands on her hips. “All patched up! Now onto the hard part,” she thought out loud, turning to face the mountains in the distance.

Two sharp peeks protruded in the night, a little structure on the tip of each one. The cliffs below them were dotted with hundreds of other huts and shacks and cottages, windows glowing in the dark, foliage twirling all over the settlement.

She took a step towards the skyline. Then another. On the third step, she disappeared, a bright flash of light blue light in the quickly darkening evening.

---

Something felt...different.

Jack tried to go back to his book and his plush chair, but found that for once, he was unable to shove all the feelings deep, deep down and go about his not-so-merry way. They were coming up; his insides were on fire. His cheeks wouldn’t stop getting wet.

Everything he had held back for years was coming up, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

He stepped out into the hall. Tentatively. Sort of surprised but not quite when nothing happened.

The barrier seemed to be down.

The guards were slumped against the walls, carefully placed in somewhat comfortable positions. Their weapons were abandoned; Jack waved his hand, a north wind billowing through the hall. It picked up the weapons, and, at his command, tossed them deep, deep, deep into his personal quarters.

A quick scan of the guards. They seemed okay; a little worse for the wear, but Jack didn’t see any blood or broken bones.

“Marcel?” he asked, crouching beside the guard closest to the door. He waved his hand in front of Marcel’s face.

The man groaned, unmoving.

Fine. Probably. Just like she had said.

Standing back up, Jack frowned, deep in thought.

He needed to move, to act, to do something.

But what?

He figured he had a few minutes, if he was lucky, before the guards get back up and were able to recast the barrier again. He stepped back; something rolled under his heel, crunching.

Marcel’s wand, snapped in two.

Well, so much for the barrier, then.

Alright. Good. More time to, to think. To decide. To figure something out.

He thinks back to the angry ghost. Something she had said. There was something there that had his fae senses screaming. A quick run through their conversation until—

I have a GIRLFRIEND, I don’t have the option to seduce a powerful castor right now!

“Oh no,” Jack said, paling.

He knew exactly what she was going to do.

But she’s dead! If this version of her were to try it...

“She’ll be trapped,” Jack realized.

With that in mind, his decision was easy as could be. He couldn’t save her then.

But he could save her now.

He straightened. Shook out his arms; his shoulders. His fingers crack. He lifts a foot, then slams it into the ground.

Around him, the prison shuddered. It began to shake. The fault lines she had left grew larger. Chips of ice rained down around him. He sliced a hand through the air. The walls on his right began to splinter and fracture, the light within growing dim as the place rumbled. He sliced his other hand through the air, the walls on his left mirroring their reflections.

He moved both arms up again, and sliced them both down through the air with a whoosh.

The walls didn’t just break.

They shattered.

The ceiling came down, the ice chunks bouncing off of the air above Jack, slamming into the ground around him.

In seconds, the entire icy exterior crumbled, the walls he had frozen so long ago coming down with it.

Outside, the sky is dark. Reddish purplish. The sun is going down in the distance. The air is fresh, if a little cold, and sharp. He inhales it, deeply. It’s wintry. Quite odd for the Eastern Province, but Autumn was known to have a bit of a chill, and Jack was certain that his presence here had effected the weather patterns a good amount, too.

Besides, what was a little more oddness? This whole day had been weird already, and it was only going to get weirder.

He stood still until the prison finished crumbling around him. The guards were unscathed; chunks headed their way magically redirected themselves, landing away from them. It’s the least, Jack thought, that he can do for them. After all, they had been very kind to him, and they hadn’t needed to be at all. Not for him. a criminal; a murderer. Of sisters. His own sister.

"Snap out of it, Jack!" he scolded himself, shaking his head and turning on the spot.

Onto business, he thought, straightening his jacket. Doing up a button and readjusting his cuff links. Glancing wearily at the pointy mountains in the distance.

There is only one castor he knows of that will happily help Jacqueline.

The same one who had helped him centuries ago.

Ice and dust drifting about, the Witch's Peaks in his sights, Jack made his way forward, determined.

But three steps in, a tiny gasp reached his ears.

He stopped dead in his tracks, tilting his head; listening.

Something…someone was there.

And though it was just a tiny little gasp, it rang familiar. So very familiar.

But that wouldn’t make sense, Jack thought. She wouldn’t be here. It couldn’t be…

“JACK!”

Him too?

Okay, now he was a little scared.

He turned on his heel, looking behind him. Two figures stood together in the distance. One was calling for him; a loud, recognizable voice. He could make out the shape of his palm up against his mouth, his other hand clasped tightly in the hand of the woman beside him. A whole head or so shorter than him, her other hand was in front of her mouth, gently hovering above a shocked ‘o’.

“JACK!” he called again.

“Dad?” Jack said, quietly. “Mom?”

The dust rippled between them. The air finally cleared, revealing Blaise and Winter, his parents, standing hand in hand a short distance away, staring at him with unreadable expressions, as rooted in place as he was.

---

“Look. Gwen. I already TOLD you, I don’t know WHY there’s such an uptick in chaos right now! NOR do I know WHY the air tastes like dark magic!”

“That is BULL and you know it, Cheri.”

“I would LOVE to take credit for this, but I have no idea what this is, girlie. And you know I’m telling the truth! Your goody-goody magic can sense it.”

“Okay, yes, but you’ve messed with it before! and you LOVE lying it's one of your FAVOURITE things!”

“It really is, but listen. Gwen. I’m using your name. not your little nickname. Obviously, I’m being legit right now. Look, don’t get your tutu in a twist, alright? I’ll look into it and if it’s bad bad, I’ll take care of it!”

The door to a small room opened, a witch swathed in black and red waltzing in, huge fuck-off combat boots clunking on the hardwood floor. With a roll of her eyes, she tossed her hat onto the mantle and stopped dead in her tracks when she noticed the woman perched on her desk.

“Your Grand Darkness,” the woman purred, saccharine, miming a curtsy while staying seated.

Cheri recognized her instantly. She smirked. “Ou. This is gonna be good.”

She turned on her heel, Gwen smacking right into her chest.

“CHERI!”

“Sorry Glenda, I’m a bit busy right now,” she said, shoving the tulle covered witch out the door. “We’ll chat later, a-buh-bye,” she finished with a wave, the door slamming shut behind her.

“CHERI!” Gwen shouted from the other side as Cheri cackled, sliding her broomstick through the door handle. She turned around, a feral grin on her face as she surveyed the woman perched on her desk, ignoring the jiggling of the handle and frustrated yells from the other side of the door.

“So you're my little trouble maker today, aren’t ya?” she asked, sauntering up to the desk and surveying the sprite, chin resting on her knuckles.

“Guilty as charged,” the sprite said, hopping down off the desk. Oh, she was tiny. “Look, your darkness, I don’t have much time. And I’m in a very happy, committed relationship with a literal goddess, so seducing you for help is like, out of the question.”

“Oh shit, a goddess? Which one?”

“Pleasure,” the sprite replied, lickity-split. “Greek.”

“Ha-HA, nice one! Up top,” Cheri replied, holding up a hand.

The sprite flushed, but, grinning, high-fived her back.

“Thanks for not leaving me hanging there, girl,” Cheri said, walking around the sprite and looking her up and down. “That would've been awkward. Would’ve had to cover by turning you into a toad or something,” she added, throwing herself into her seat, her feet landing on the desk. “Now I also don’t have much time. The chaos in the air today is ripe for the picking and I have yet to do that, thanks to politics, yuck. So, cut to the chase.”

“I need to break into Rosehaven,” she said.

“Deja vu!”

“Yeah, I know, don’t remind me. Short and sweet or long and complex?”

“Short and sweet baby.”

“Great! I’m from another timeline, and I’m trapped here until I can find the time crystals that power my way home,” she said, shaking a small, golden object in her hand. “Rosehaven is the last place I could think of them being, and I need to get in there and get them back because let me tell you, your Darkness, if I have to stay in this timeline for one second longer? I am going to burst into flames and just EXPLODE.”

Cheri laughed. “You're cute,” she said, recrossing her feet. “I can get you there. But what do you have to offer in exchange?”

“Even more chaos than is presently brewing,” the sprite said with a clever smirk. “In three hours I’ve managed to completely throw off every single Frost, leading to the chaos you’re sensing right now. If I’ve played my cards right, and if I manage to pull this last bit off, the chaos will straight up triple.” She frowned. “That is, if I remember magical chaos theory correctly. I didn’t pay much attention in world magics class,” she admitted with a silly little grin, scratching the back of her head. “And, it’ll piss off a lot of magibeans.”

“Glenda too?”

“Oh, her lightness especially.”

Cheri cackled. “Count me IN,” she said, hopping up and rummaging around the shelves packed FULL of ingredients and artifacts. “One plane shift coming right up.”

“Thank the fucking goddess,” the sprite said, relieved.

“Fair warning, though,” Cheri said over her shoulder, lobbing all sorts of shit into her cauldron. “You're already there, technically. There's a good chance you may get stuck. Rosehaven will let you in, but getting out? Hmm.”

“I’m hoping the time nonsense helps with that,” the sprite replied nonchalantly. “And honestly? Given the choice, I’d rather be stuck THERE than HERE in this timeline. I’ll take my chances, your darkness.”

Cheri laughed. “A sprite after my own heart.”

---

Time passed.

Maybe minutes, maybe seconds; maybe hours.

The parents stared at their son. The son stared at his parents. The dust cleared, exposing them all to one another. Mother and father looking particularly icy and ashen; son looking just as icy, if not more, than mother.

It’s Jack who speaks first, unsurprisingly.

“I know what this looks like, but it’s really not,” he found himself saying, trying very hard to keep the desperation out of his voice. “We can play chase later, you can bring me in again or whatever, I literally do not care, because there is something WAY more important that I need to be doing in a general that-away direction,” he said, pointing towards the rocky crags in the distance that hid Roseterra. “I don’t want to do this the hard way, but I will if I have to!”

“ARE YOU OKAY?!” Blaise shouts across the way.

“I—wait. WHAT?”

The tension, the readiness for battle, the urge to run away, all of it leaves at once. Jack stood, dumbfounded, unsure what to do with himself.

Blaise and Winter shared a look and, with a slight nod, gently walked towards him hand in hand.

Run says his brain.

Don’t, says his heart.

He stays.

Soon enough, they’re face to face. My god they’re old, Jack thinks.

Blaise and Winter think the same thing as they come face to face with their son.

Jack blinks.

They blink back.

Winter opens her mouth to speak; the words die before they can even come out. Unable to say much of anything at that precise moment, she squeezed Blaise’s hand. He nodded.

“Are you okay Jack?” he asked again.

“I—uh.”

Jack looked around, the remnants of the icy walls crystallized around them. The guards have yet to stir; his furniture and possessions are littered about as the wind blows, papers fluttering. The Solitary has been obliterated.

“Mostly.”

“Oh, thank heavens,” Winter finally says. Her eyes are shiny.

“I—okay. WHAT is HAPPENING.”

“We were worried about what she might have done.”

“She—Jacqueline? You guys saw her too?!”

They both nodded.

“Thank the LADY. Look, we don’t have time right now to unpack all of this. We need to go,” Jack says, starting forward.

“Jack, wait.”

“Go where?!”

“To Roseterra!”

Now it’s their turn to be dumbfounded.

Annoyed and short on time, Jack let out an exasperated sigh.

“I know you won’t believe me and that’s fine. But that was her! It was Jacqueline! And she’s about to do something so incredibly stupid and if I don’t go after her right now, immediately, she’s gone! And I can’t…I can’t let that happen again,” he says, voice cracking. “I couldn’t save her then, but maybe I can now!” Jack admits. “I…I didn’t want…I never…I didn’t mean to…”

And he feels tears running down his cheeks. How embarrassing, he thought to himself, sniffing and trying to dry the corners of his eyes.

Suddenly, he’s warm. Very, very warm.

“I know,” Blaise says, quietly, in his ear. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“I loved her,” Jack finds himself saying into his dad’s chest, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. A usually effortless task that’s really not working for him today. “I never wanted to hurt her and when I did, I—”

“Shh, it’s okay, darling,” Winter says. Jack can feel her arms around him now too. “It’s alright. What’s done is done,” she says, soothingly. “We can’t undo it.”

“But we can help you now,” Blaise said, letting up from the hug. “Whatever you need. We'll help. We're here with you.”

“Winter’s right,” Jack said, lifting his head off of Blaise. “We can’t bring her back. I wish I could! I’d give anything to make it right. But there isn’t anything I can do. In fact, I think it’s safe to say I’ve done enough,” Jack said.

Blaise chuckled, his hairline glowing.

“But what I can do is this. Because somewhere out there is another Jack, who has his Jacqueline; another Winter and Blaise who have her, too! And I don’t want them to lose her. I don’t want them to go through everything we’ve gone through,” Jack said, gesturing around him.

“What is she planning on doing?” Blaise asked, bewildered.

“The thing she travelled with, it has pieces. She was looking for them, and if she visited all of us and we didn’t have them, then there’s only one place left to look.”

Blaise paled. “She’s going to make the jump?”

“One HUNDRED percent. She means business, I mean, look what she did to the guards! To MARCEL!”

“She did that?” Winter asked, eyes widening.

“Uh, yeah,” Jack said, the duh left unspoken but in the air.

“Is it weird that I’m proud?” Winter asked.

“No,” Blaise said. “I am too.”

“It’s impressive,” Jack agreed. “RIGHT! WE HAVE TO GO,” he shouted, rushing forward. "We've wasted enough time as is, best to try and head her off at Roseterra! Cheri's probably already gotten her everything she needs—"

“Jack, wait! Hold on a second—how does he still have this much energy,” Blaise asked Winter, exasperated.

She laughed. “I’ll grab him,” she said, lifting a finger.

A pile of snow shot up in front of Jack. He slammed directly into it. It pushed him back gently, spinning him around to face his parents.

“What,” he snapped.

“Just don’t move for a second,” Blaise said, lifting his palms. They glowed; between them, his staff appeared. He placed it on the ground, uttered a few words, and boom! A circle appeared around Jack.

He glanced down at it, watching the runes and sigils appear in the circle. There were a lot. He grimaced.

With one last incantation, Blaise lifted his staff and slammed it into the ground. The small symbols and shapes cracked, disappearing until the circle was empty. It faded into the ground, Jack feeling lighter than he had in centuries.

“What was all THAT?!” he asked, equal parts offended on his own behalf, and impressed that it took that many enchantments to keep him imprisoned.

“Don’t worry about it,” Blaise said, a couple of sparks popping off of his ashen head. His roots seemed to be glowing now too. “Let’s go save your sister, yeah?”

And with that, the trio rushed off.

---

They made it, but not soon enough.

They slid to a stop, dust flying as Jacqueline turned to level them all with the same icy glare. Below her, the ground was shifting, shimmering and glittering. In her left hand, she held a glass object. In her right, a piece of chalk.

“Jacqueline, don’t!” Jack said, stepping forward.

She let out one single, sharp HA. “I do what I want, Jack,” she said, coldly. Looking them all dead in the eye one at a time, she dropped the glass ball onto the ground, right into the shimmering circle.

It shattered, and a pink cloud poofed up. The writing on the monument blurred, a small portal opening up, wider and wider until it was as tall as she was. A bright light surrounded her. Jack held up an arm, shielding himself from the light while still trying to keep a visual on Jacqueline. Behind him, Blaise grabbed Winter. She hid her eyes in his chest, while he, similarly to Jack, shielded his own.

They stood, watching helplessly, as the silhouette of Jacqueline stepped into the portal, disappearing.

It snapped shut, the glow diminishing.

All three of them moved forward, only to be stopped by some sort of unseen forcefield.

“Oh dear,” Winter said, as she watched the two men try and break through it. She tilted her head, the north winds blowing. “I’m afraid that won’t work, dears,” she said.

“What do you MEAN it won’t work? We gotta do SOMETHING!”

“We’re going to lose her AGAIN, Winter!”

“Rosehaven has placed the barrier there. It doesn’t want us to interfere. It’s up to her now.”

“And what, we’re just supposed to stand here and wait?!” Jack asked.

“Precisely,” Winter said, the winds blowing happily behind her.

“And what do we do in the meantime? Talk?!” Blaise asked.

“I don’t see why not,” Winter said, chipper.

Both men looked at each other, distraught.

---

The light was very pink. Blinding, nearly. It smelt like flowers. It felt…amazing. Like she was safe; like everything would be okay. She was home.

Her anger, frustration, annoyance, and fear all disappeared as she came to a very sudden stop.

She opened her eyes.

It was still very pink.

She seemed to be in some kind of large, stone gazebo. Vines twirled up it, a leafy canopy hanging down around her. Flowers bloomed. A fountain trickled somewhere nearby. In front of her stood a podium.

“Welcome to Rosehaven,” said an ethereal voice. “Name, please?”

“Jacqueline Winter Frost,” she said. “Here to see one Jacqueline Winter Frost, if you please.”

The hooded figure looked up, perplexed. Their head tilted under the hood; the material gently creasing. “How curious,” they said, gliding over to Jacqueline. “You are here again, and yet, you are already here.”

Jacqueline looked right into the darkness within the figure's hood. She pulled the time piece out of her pocket.

They recoiled. “Well now, that explains it,” they said. There was a swirl of petals and their hood fell back, revealing a pale face, messy dark hair in a pixie cut of all things, and very familiar brown eyes. They danced with all sorts of warm hues. Red. Orange. Yellow. Like fallen leaves. “May I?” they asked gesturing to the time piece.

Jacqueline nodded. She placed it flat in her palm and held it out for the Hollow.

“Time magic. Well, the good news is you’re safe from being stuck,” they said with a knowing smile. “Here, hold onto that.”

“And the bad news?”

“Hmm?”

“You said the good news. Usually that means there’s bad news to follow?”

“Yes. Well, as the Hollow charged with guarding the entrance, I can’t just let you in, of course.”

Jacqueline sighed. “Oh, gosh. Is it riddles?  I am very bad at riddles. I hope it isn’t riddles. I’d say combat but we’d be locked in combat forever, wouldn’t we? Cant fight to the death in the afterlife, can we?”

The Hollow laughed. “Nothing so severe and no riddles for you, snowflake. I have a very simple question you must answer for me.”

“Oh. Uh. Okay.”

“How’s Autumn?”

Jacqueline blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Autumn? Your Aunt? How is she.”

“I don’t know. This isn’t my timeline. I have no idea how any of my aunts are—”

“I only need to know about Autumn. Your Autumn.”

“My Autumn?”

The Hollow nodded. “I committed a crime, you see. I brought the light life that gave your aunt breath over to Harvest. That is not the duty I was charged with by the goddess. I was supposed to take life, not give it. So, I was punished with door duty.”

“Door duty? For such a steep crime?” Jacqueline asked.

“It was fated,” the Hollow said with a wink. “I am Hollow Eve. Autumn is as much my daughter as she is Harvest’s. We like to know how she’s getting on, in every timeline.”

“This happens a lot then?”

“Nope! Not at all! This is the first time a Frost from another timeline has found their way in here. Carpe diem,” she said with a knowing smile. “How is she back at home?”

Jacqueline blinked. “Oh! Well. She’s doing quite alright,” Jacqueline said, recalling when they last talked. “She recently got into Bones. It’s a show, not the actual bones. That only happens around Halloween. Anyway, she binged that and loved it! She’s still trying to see if she can yield anything from the scar, but no luck yet. She thinks she’s getting close, but she thinks that every year,” Jacqueline said fondly.

“Bones. I shall look into that show I think. Come then, Jacqueline. I will take you to see Jacqueline. We can walk and talk,” they said, gliding over to the exit. “I will grant you safe passage throughout Rosehaven, and back again.”

“Huh,” Jacqueline said. “This was easier than I thought.”

“She was expecting you.”

“That rambunctious little bugger, I knew it. It’s just what I would do.”

Eve laughed. “Fated,” she said, once again. “Come along then, snowflake. Right this way. It’s tea time. Impeccable timing.”

“Fated, even?” Jacqueline teased back.

Eve laughed. “Indeed! Now you're getting it. Let’s get a move on. And tell me more about my child, if you please.”

“Sure,” Jacqueline said, more than happy to talk about her aunt, though it was harder than she had expected.

Not that she didn’t know much about Autumn; they talked regularly, as she did with all three aunts. No, it was just…Rosehaven was beautiful. And as they walked, Jacqueline was enthralled with it, trying to take it all in while sharing all her favourite Aunt Autumn stories. Her multi-tasking skills were not to be found today.

The hills rolled out, impossibly far; the pink sky was bright. Flowers were all over the place, blowing in a breeze that smelt like all of her favourite things: freshly baked cake. Snow. Dite. The beach. Trees towered high, the oddest creatures popping in and out of them, flitting through the sky, over branches, and winding between their feet. Fun little houses dotted the landscape, dwellings matching each magibean that sat, lounging; basking. Playing instruments, working with magic both alone and with their neighbours, explosions of sparkles happening both near and far as magic sprouted up all around them. The pathways sprawled out in the distance, leading to lush forests, jungles; desert, even! And far off in the distance, mountains; a tall, lonely castle, a sharp contrast off in the horizon to the warm and cozy dwellings that surrounded them.

Jacqueline had actually stopped to frown at it for but a moment, as Eve told her not to dwell for too long and come along, if you’d please. And tell me more about Halloween, if you’d be so kind.

And so, the pair continued on through Rosehaven; Jacqueline trying fruitlessly to take in as much detail as possible while telling Eve all about her daughter. Aunt Autumn. They delighted in all the stories Jacqueline shared, as they wound through the lush expanse, Eve practically sparkling the more she heard of Autumn.

Finally, the path widened, the trees growing taller and wider, covered in vines, flowers all over the place. Water trickled in the distance; they walked under a natural stone archway, coming into a beautiful garden. Butterflies fluttered about, the sweetest of scents tickling her nose. The woods and stones and vines and flowers wound together tightly, forming all natural furnishings. At the centre of it all, a stone. A stone that was both devoid of colour and all the colours at once; sparkling faintly, magic shimmering around it.

Just behind this stone was a table. Made of wood and bark, and surrounded by stumps shaped like chairs, a beautiful spread of treats and sweets sat. A teapot glinted in the light, steam coming out of the spout. Four cups sat in saucers, two filled, two more waiting. At the top of this round table sat a woman.

She looked old; ancient, even. Her hair was long, the green still making itself known through the grey. Leaves sat at the top of her braids, turning into flowers, then back to leaves again. Colourful leaves, trailing into frost at the very bottom. Her multiple braids clinked together as she nodded along, green eyes soft, paying rapt attention to her small companion, a soft smile on her dark face.

Her companion stood on her stump chair, talking animatedly and bouncing in place as she used her whole entire body to describe something. Her pigtails bounce as she grinned, blue eyes sparkling, flyaway hairs decorated with snowy beads, a little flower tying each braid off at the end.

Eve cleared her throat.

Both figures stopped talking, turning to look at the pair. The little sprite grinned, bouncing in place once again. The old woman smiled, head tilted.

“Hello, Eve,” she said, her voice soft and loud, sounding like rushing water but also like a soft breeze. It hit Jacqueline, then, exactly who she’d come face to face with. The little gasp slipped out, much to her dismay. The tiny sprite giggled about it. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Mother Gaia. Mistress Frost. You have a visitor,” they said, bowing deeply, and gesturing towards Jacqueline. Flushing, Jacqueline curtseyed deeply. “One Mistress Frost,” Eve said.

“Mother Gaia, it’s an honour,” Jacqueline said, reverent, not sure how long she should bow for.

The woman chuckled. “There’s no need for formalities, dear. Up you go. There we go. Now, I don’t think I have to introduce my companion to you, do I?”

The child giggled. So did the young woman.

“No,” she said.

“We’re good! We know each other!” the child said, bouncing in place. She turned to her older self, meeting the woman’s fierce gaze with one of her own.

“Do you have them?” Jacqueline asked.

With a small smile, she opened her little fist. In it, three pieces of glowing chrono-quartz sat, charged and ready to go.

“Oh thank the goddess,” Jacqueline said, relieved.

“Did you bring me what I wanted?”

“I think the heck I did,” Jacqueline replied, grinning. “May I sit?”

“Please do,” Mother Gaia said, gesturing to the stumps. “Eve?”

“I’ll float, thank you.”

“Have some tea, darling,” Mother Gaia said. Not waiting for an answer, she waved her hand. The pot poured out a cup, cream pouring in along with some honey. The saucer and cup floated, then, landing right in front of Eve’s outstretched hands.

“Thank you, Mother Gaia.”

“Of course. Now then. What have you been up to, my dear?”

“All sorts of nonsense,” Jacqueline said with a sigh, slumping in her seat. Elbow on the table, she held her head, taking a moment to rest. “Chased all three of them down to find those,” she said, pointing lazily at her child self’s hands.

“Are they coming?” the child asked, hope glinting in her big blue eyes.

“I did you one even better, Jacqueline,” she replied, selecting a brownie off the snack tray. “They’re here.

“HERE?!”

“Like, outside, but yes, they are. All three of them.”

“ALL of them?”

“Even Jack.”

The little girl brightened at that, bouncing in her seat again. “Yay! Thank you,” she said, earnestly.

“Of course. Riled them up real good, too,” she added, taking a bite out of her brownie.

“Very much so,” said Gaia. “I can feel the chaos from here.”

“Well you gotta do what you gotta do,” both Jacquelines said, one around a mouthful of brownie. They stopped and looked at each other, blinking, and immediately laughing.

Gaia smiled. “I hope the little one didn’t cause you too much trouble,” Gaia said, booping little Jacquie’s nose fondly. The child let out a teehee.

“She absolutely did,” Jacqueline said, her child self giggling fully now and plopping down in her seat. “You sent me on a goose chase and a HALF girl! Dang! And this on top of the day I have had,” she said, grabbing a tiny cupcake off the platter and peeling off the wrapper. “I was supposed to help a friend find a thing, and then these time shenanigans happened and then I found myself looking at my own GRAVE! I’ve had to yell at my parents and visit my brother in PRISON for KILLING me,” she said, eating the cupcake whole. “I mean, I figured I’d probably visit him in prison more than once in our lifetimes, BUT FOR MURDER? OF MY ME? Would much rather do that visit ALIVE, thank you kindly. Uh, no offence,” she said, embarrassed, glancing around the table as she swallowed the cupcake.

“None at all,” Gaia said.

“I’ve no concept of life,” Eve said. “I simply exist.”

“I’ve been like this for FOREVER! It’s allllll good, Jacqueline,” said the kid, patting her hand.

“I just. I have had a very long day and really want to go home and get a hug from my girlfriend and—”

“WE HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?! WHO? WHAT’S SHE LIKE? IS SHE PRETTY? STRONG? CAN SHE THROW ME? CAN SHE THROW YOU?! CAN SHE THROW US BOTH?”

“Yes to all of that,” Jacqueline said.

“I’m so cool,” kid Jacqueline said, grinning at Gaia.

“The coolest, I'd say,” Gaia said, grinning back. “Now then. Finish up your tea. Have some as well, Jacqueline; you’ll need this particular blend for the journey ahead.”

“Oh?”

“Special properties. They’ll make the planar shift less…cumbersome on the way out.”

“Cumbersome?”

“It was nice coming in,” Eve said. “But it’s quite the opposite going out. This should help. And since you told me what I needed to know, you have my blessing to take as long as you need. I’ll make sure the portal closes when you’re ready,” Eve added, directing the last bit at tiny Jacqueline.

“Got it,” she said, with a determined nod. “Are you coming too, Gram?”

“No child. I’m much too old to be making these planar shifts. I’ll be right here waiting for you to get back and tell me all about it,” she said, eyes crinkling at the corners when she smiled.

Tiny Jacqueline smiled, hopping off her seat and right into Gaia’s arms in a hug.

“Thank you,” she said, squeezing the matriarch.

“Of course,” she said, squeezing back.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Eve said. “Both of you.”

And so, finishing their tea, the two of them got up. Thanking Gaia once again, Jacqueline waited beside Eve, hand outstretched to her child self. “Shall we?”

“Yes please,” Jacqueline said with a grin, taking her hand.

“Then let’s go,” she replied.

Hand in hand, the two sprites started forward, Eve gliding in front of them, leading them back to the lobby, as they called it. Once they had gotten under the gazebo, the vines snapped, cascading down from the roof and blocking the entrances. With creaks and groans, the vines grew larger and larger, entangling amongst themselves to keep from easily being breached.

“Not to worry; this happens with break-ins. I’ll take care of things here. The two of you,” she said, placing a hand over the spot Jacqueline had appeared in upon her arrival, “Do what you need to do, okay?”

“Sure,” Jacqueline said. Beside her, kid Jacqueline scooted closer, grabbing her arm with both hands and tugging.

“Psst,” she said. “Down here.”

Jacqueline sunk down, worry creasing her face. “Yes?”

“What if…what if they’re not there no more? What if we go out there and they’re gone? I…” she sniffled, her lips wobbling.

“Oh, hey now, kiddo. It’s okay,” Jacqueline said, picking herself up and seating her on her leg. “They will be there; I promise. And if they’re not,” she looked left, looked right, and came right up to her ear. “I’ll hunt them down for you myself. Just for you. Okay?”

Eyes wide and teary, the child nodded. “Okay,” she said. Reaching over, she grabbed Jacqueline’s other arm, pulling her hand up to her face. In her palm, she dropped the chrono-quartz. “I’m ready,” she said, sliding off of Jacqueline’s knee and grabbing her hand.

Behind them, there was a sort of fwoom. A bright light filled the lobby, the portal home opening up for them. Glancing back down at her younger self, Jacqueline stepped forward.

“Ready? For sure?”

“Yeah!”

“Then let’s go.”

And, keeping her younger self behind her, Jacqueline stepped back through the portal.

---

Tuckered out, the three sprites sat, backs against the barrier that would not drop. It had been nearly an hour; they had talked. They had waited. They had come to the realization that they hadn't had to run all day. They could've poofed.

Suddenly, a low thrum.

They shot up, Jack throwing himself in front of his parents and watching as the portal that had closed up opened once again. A silhouette appeared; tall. A mess of hair. She stepped forward. Behind her, her arm still in the portal, she gave something a gentle tug.

A second silhouette popped out. Shorter; smaller. Hair braided.

All three gasped.

The light cleared. Looking a lot less angry now was the older Jacqueline they had come across today, hand in hand with the little girl they thought they had lost, looking as perky and happy as she always had, if a bit translucent and shimmery.

They stared at her. Jack wide-eyed. Winter crying behind her hands. Blaise tearing up.

It was Jack who, yet again, broke the silence.

“Jacqueline?”

The little girl ran, then, closing the distance very fast. She hopped up, slamming right into her brother’s chest with enough force to knock him down. He barely had time to recover before her arms were around his chest, squeezing the life out of him with a hug.

“I missed you,” she said, squishing him very tightly. Jack blinked for a moment, before squishing her back just as tight, if not more.

“I am so, so sorry Jacqueline, I never meant to hurt you! To, to kill you! It was an accident. I love you. I’d never hurt you, not. Not knowingly. Not like this.”

“It’s okay,” she replied, still holding on tight. “I forgive you. It was an accident,” she said, finally letting Jack go. “But what I DON’T forgive you for is NOT coming to SEE ME!”

Still sitting on Jack’s legs, she huffed, crossing her tiny arms. “I waited! I waited the whole time to see you guys! Every single converse-convert-converge—”

“Convergence,” Jack and not dead Jacqueline both said at the same time.

“Yeah! That! I waited for you and mom and dad, but you never came,” she said, turning to look up at her parents. “None of you came. Why’d you leave me all alone?”

When Jack and Blaise didn’t respond, Winter spoke up.

"We messed up," she said, sinking down to the floor, looking at her little baby girl. She reached out, gently caressing her baby’s face. Rubbing away the tears with the pad of her thumb. “We made a very big mistake. We tried to save you, and when we couldn’t…”

“We turned away from each other,” Blaise admitted, sinking down now too.

“We ran away,” Jack added, frowning at the floor. “I…I don’t know about mom and dad, but it seemed easier to run than to face up to what had happened. To deal with it. And, and thinking of going to see you…what would I have even said?”

“Well I think you’re doing okay right now,” Jacqueline said, softening a little.

Jack grinned. “Thanks, Jacqueline.”

“Anytime, boss,” she said, saluting very silly like. Jack chuckled.

“I think we all hurt you a little bit, didn’t we?” Winter asked. “Not coming to see you. Doing what we thought best.”

“What we thought you’d want,” Blaise added.

“All I wanted was to see you guys. I didn’t want you to run away from each other. I just wanted to see you all together and maybe sometimes still be there too,” she admitted, poking her lil’ fingers together. “I’m DEAD. You can’t change that. Not by running away or playing chase or anything silly like that.”

“I know,” Winter said, swooping Jacqueline up off of Jack’s legs. "We know." Pulling her in close, Winter gave her child a big squeeze. “I’m sorry, dear.”

“It’s okay, mommy,” she said, hugging Winter tightly. She looked up at Blaise over her shoulder. With a smile, she stuck her little arms up.

Blaise grabbed her so fast, crushing her against him. “I’m sorry, too,” he said, gruffly. He let out a sob. “I thought I knew what you wanted, but it wasn’t about what I thought. I was wrong. We were wrong. I’m sorry, Jacqueline, so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay daddy,” she croaked, enjoying the warmth that came with the territory. “I’m just glad you were all still here when I got here. I was afraid you’d all have left. That maybe you didn’t…you didn’t want to see me.”

“What?”

“Jacqueline Winter Frost!”

“We’d never!”

“Well you all did a very bad no good awful job showing that,” she said with a pout, wiggling out of Blaise’s arms and plopping on the ground, crossing her little arms. “Do better.”

Up by the grave marker, Jacqueline chuckled. Get their asses, Jacquie, she thought, pulling out the empty time piece. It had a slight glow to it. She pulled out the chrono-quartz. They also had a slight glow. Almost there, she thought, placing them into the face.

“Don’t you worry your little head off,” Jack said, grandly, poking the very top of said little head. “We’ll do better now. I’ll make sure of it.”

“You promise?”

“I promise,” Jack said.

“We all do,” Blaise agreed, Winter nodding enthusiastically beside him.

The tiny sprite’s eyes grew big, her lip wobbling before breaking out in a huge smile. “YAY!” she said, jumping around, trying to hug all three of her family members at once.

“How have you been?!” Winter asked suddenly, grabbing Jacqueline and squishing her tightly. “Are you okay?”

“I am now,” she replied, hugging back. “It’s very nice where I am! Very pink though. I stay with Gaia. She’s real nice and looks lots like Mother Nature and lets me call her Gram. She makes really good tea and always has sweets and...”

Jacqueline sighed, relieved as she watched her child self go on and on about Rosehaven and how everything had been for her on the other side. There was a click and a whir; she glanced down. The watch was ready. The cracks had sealed, the time chunk once again in one piece. Clicking the knob at the top, she watched as the arrows whirred, and the purple turned blue.

“Got him,” she said to herself, relieved, pressing down on the face of the timepiece.

In front of her, a deep purple portal opened. Shoulders sagging, she stepped forward, glad to leave when all of a sudden there was a tug on her skirt.

“Hmm?”

She looked down. Kid Jacqueline stood beside her with a soft smile, hands behind her back.

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” she said, rushing forward and hugging her legs.

“Awwh,” Jacqueline couldn’t help but say. She bent down, squishing her dead self tightly. “You’re welcome. Give them hell, okay? And one more thing.”

The child blinked, letting herself be picked up by herself. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry you died,” she said, face falling.

The child in her arms giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. “It’s okay. I can’t change that. And you can’t, either. Nothing can bring me back completely. But you did me a big help,” she said.

“A big help?” Jacqueline asked, the corner of her lips twitching.

“Yeah! You helped me help them and now we can make a difference. Look! Lookit!”

Tightening her grip on her kid self, Jacqueline looked down at her parents and brother. They were chatting, standing up now; waiting patiently for Jacqueline to head back their way. Blaise and Winter were deep in conversation. Jack said something; the pair laughed, Blaise’s hair actually smouldering. Jack glanced up their way, head tilted.

“GIVE ME TWO MORE SECONDS!” the tiny child yelled, turning back to her adult self. “This is all I ever wanted,” she said, throwing her little arms around Jacqueline’s neck.

“I know,” Jacqueline said, squishing her tight. “Me too. I’m glad I could help.”

“Me too!” she said, pulling out of the hug.

“And if they EVER act out of sorts again, let me know. I’ll knock some sense into them.”

The child laughed. “Okay!”

“Alright,” Jacqueline said, and, with one last squeeze, released little Jacquie. “Off you go,” she said, watching as little Jacqueline ran down the incline, waving at her.

“BYE JACQUELINE! TRAVEL SAFE! I HOPE YOU WIN!”

“Me too,” Jacqueline said, waving back and stepping foot into the portal. The watch was ready; and so was she.

She glanced behind her once more. Jacqueline hopped up into the air, throwing herself at her parents. Blaise was teary eyed; she latched onto his neck like a little koala, Blaise, grabbing his wife and son and squishing them, too. There was cracking; a pop. Blaise’s hair lit up.

With one last deep breath, Jacqueline hopped into the portal, watching as it slowly closed on the four Frosts hugging one another very tightly, basking in Blaise's firelight before she was yanked into the time stream, the watch glowing and pushing her through to the proper timeline.

---

The portal shut; the angry ghost was gone, leaving them with the ghost they had missed the most. Jack watched it shut, wiggling his way out of the hug.

Or at least, trying to.

“So, uh. Not to ruin the moment or anything,” Jack said, Blaise not letting go. “But um. What now? Where should I go?”

“House arrest seems our only recourse,” Blaise said, sternly. “Your Mother and I can keep a close eye on you there. What do you think?”

Jack blinked, taken aback. He smiled; small, soft. "I think I'd like that."

[shummashum]

Klaus Goldstein Ch7 [7~11]

Raging Wizardess… what's that

huh if the feeling was mutual, couldn't he just push through? like, by using the king's power…

oh… shit then the King married the princess for political reasons, and the wizardess saw that and get so angry that she destroyed everything? blind fury?

eh this word is… this word kinda has the potential to make Liz feel discouraged again I guess

erm her temper… erm… is this… right?

and what the heck is this everyone who does something wrong goes to labyrinth? this is kinda hilarious I don't know why this feels funny but what did they think the labyrinth was, a trash can?

???: Idk let's just dump her there

Anyway, Klaus emphasized once again that the book in this bookshelf cannot be taken out, and he took out another book to demonstrate what would happen if the instructions were disobeyed.

welll that doesn't mean you can't completely remove magic… it just takes a lot of effort and the recoil really sucks? if the value of those books is high enough, there might be forces that willingly spend time and budget to steal one of them

Just then, a magic note flew towards her. As she opened it…

Amel… you've done your stuff, right? you're not willing to sacrifice your grades for your friend's love or anything like that, right?

Well so they decided to head back together.

well I have a doubt about that he's calm and quiet for now, but if someone who offends him with just their presence appears before his eyes again…

a yeah… I mean, like Al

Al even ignored her greetings what happened

interrogated? what on earth did she do sus behavior that she was interrogated for a moment it reminded me of the spy aka cookie girl from Zeus' route, but she was definitely wearing a Day Class uniform

but well… Klaus is currently dispatched to the academy to investigate the incident, so interrogating a student wouldn't be that strange

how severe was it…? was there violence or torture or something like that? otherwise, there's no way Al would be this angry

erm… I don't like appealing to emotions… but even taking that into account, this is too severe

but well wasn't it secret that there were stolen items at the Academy is it okay to investigate so openly? of course everyone may have vaguely noticed it, but still…

I've always felt that even though the Academy and the Ministry appear to have a friendly or cooperative relationship on the outside, there is an invisible battle of will going on. and this is fairly harsh~…

Liz attempted to step between them, but Klaus grabbed her by the shoulder.

um… no? I think you're wrong? if this is a power struggle between the Academy and the Ministry to take the lead, I think it can be her concern because she is also a part of the Academy

ah I'm out fuck this shit I'm out I'm out!! don't stop me I wanna go home look at this shitty atmosphere I cannot stay here

and you you're attacking the messenger instead of the message,,,

this is the pits dissolution! dissolution!! kaisan!!!

oh fuck kaisan!!!! kaisan!!!!!!!

[vroomlesbianvroom]

Your Harry Potter posts are a bit strange. I re-read the books recently as well, and yeah, they're not as perfect as I thought they were when I was 10, go figure.

But I think it's very easy to see what made them appealing still. For all the gaps and flaws in the logistics of her worldbuilding, the atmosphere she creates is just so strong. The books are easy and fun to read, never get boring, and always have cool mysteries woven in. Nothing super unique, but still, how can you just not see those things at all anymore?

Also "it doesn't make any sense, they have one teacher per subject but not enough teachers for a whole week of classes" or whatever - I'm sorry, nobody reads books like this. Especially children's books about wizarding school. This does not matter!

I know we're all angry and maybe even heartbroken by Rowling deciding to use her remaining time, money and influence to fight against trans liberation. And I know it would be easier to reconcile our feelings about what she does these days with our memories of the books if they just turned out to magically have been terrible all along, and every human on earth was just very stupid in the late 90s and 00s I guess.

But it's just not true. And that desperate grasping at straws to paint this book series as abysmal just looks strange from the outside.

I understand that people will have completely differing views on many book series, Harry Potter being a main one.

I, personally, believe that a good children's book should be able to stand the test of time. You should be able to read them at 10 and again at 30 and still think they're just as good. To put the lack of world-building, the plot holes, and general errors down to it being a kid's book is insane. The recommended youngest age to read The Deathly Hallows is between 9-12 (depending on child development), the recommended youngest age to read The Return of the King or the Hobbit is 11. Those two books cannot be compared in terms of world building and development.

Obviously, the teachers is not a major problem and most people wouldn't notice. But, I do read books like that and it's one of those things that just irritates me. Mainly, because it had such an easy fix. She just had to offhandedly mention other teachers. Most of the plot-holes had easy fixes.

The entire plot stems on Harry Potter surviving the killing curse. The entire book series only exists because this happened. J.K. Rowling's description of how and why this happened doesn't make sense.

Her world-building isn't good. There's three (or four) magical locations (that we know of) in Great Britain. Hogwarts (and Hogsmede, I don't know if they'd count as separate places), The Ministry, and Diagon Alley. That isn't a community, it doesn't account for the amount of magical people in Great Britain.

Her character development isn't great outside of the main three and a few side characters. Her descriptions and building of the past is almost non-existent. Her character naming is shoddy at best.

There are a lot of plot-holes or magical logic that just doesn't make sense. And I can say that without it having a single thing to do with J.K Rowling's personal or political opinions. You also can't separate the art from the artist in cases like this when she still makes money from it. I have a film degree (theory and productions) and some of my favourite directors we learnt about were atrocious human beings, but, I can still talk about their work putting what they did aside.

There are good parts of her books, the story is good. It is easy to follow and fun to read. But that doesn't make up for all the issues in the books.