#but because he let all of his guards down and cast aside so much of himself into 'negative space'

[ganymedesclock]

Honestly PK’s relationship with the void is actually kind of interesting when you consider Radiance’s implicit center-of-worship/base of operations was on top of a mountain as far away from it as possible, she calls the void her Ancient Enemy and greets it with the implicit assumption none of the vessels are individuals or even pawns of the wyrm nearly as much as they are pawns of said enemy which has been trying to destroy her all along.

PK, conversely, seems profoundly and personally obsessed with the stuff, possibly even to personal detriment. I’m reminded somewhat of the fate of Marie Curie whose fascination with radium led to great insights, but also left her massively overexposed to it.

He built his palace as close to the abyss as you’d get; his honor guard as well as some flying novelties (?) or service drones that propagate throughout his castle are effectively just great volumes of void wandering around. That the Abyss itself contains a great lighthouse that was personally attended by a royal retainer as well as a small personal office overlooking the great abyssal shore adds almost a quieter note of personal tragedy to the far greater horror that went on down there- that even to PK’s flawed worldview, the Abyss was not a place of great dishonor before he enacted the vessel project there. He liked it; he wanted other people to come down there and see it. In one of his writings he calls it “power opposed” but specifically in the context that he was sure he could get some pants on this thing somehow and put it in society.

PK is... thoughtlessly callous in many ways and one of the big ways is this belief of a civilizing force, that for him, the nicest possible thing he thinks he can do for anyone seems to be fitting them into a perfect, tailored box where they do exactly the work that is good for them and good for everyone forever. There’s a reason that Hollow is subtextually the Favored Heir, the inheritor of the kingdom to whom PK literally left all of Hallownest when you look at the message attached to the Worldsense bench- and they were literally a martyr being sent to spend the rest of their life chained inside of a seal as a sacrifice. A King without a throne or a crown or any political sway. And that up to a point, PK convinced himself this was not only the right and proper thing, but that he himself was... breathtakingly unprepared to grieve Hollow. Like it did not occur to him this might actually be a bad thing even when previous steps of it had horrified him even.

So I think it means a lot that PK has this notion of civilizing the Void. That it could belong in his big divine order that everything fits in. It’s foolish, and, from the POV the game takes- that of his own voidborn children- it’s immensely cruel, that Hollow who was offered A Place and A Meaning was no happier than others, and we see the Collector who also seems to have been born and shaped to PK’s design only to be reshaped by someone else’s- the noble who Kept them in the Tower of Love- resulting in a being that has deeply warped ideas about safety and protection and what it means to love someone else.

Like as the inspiring post said, PK absolutely has no illusions about the void’s ability and willingness to destroy him. But his fascination with it- before his other issues get involved- is almost one of the most ‘innocent’ things in his personality.

[charliemwrites]

As promised some time ago: Gaz!

No CW for this one. Just fluff and care!

The new house is… well, you don’t dislike it. It’s beautiful, already renovated while you were busy selling the old house. Just new, unfamiliar. You’re unaccustomed to the noises it makes, the shadows it casts, the echoes off the walls.

You’re not too proud to admit (to yourself and your dogs) that you’re a bit of a chicken the first couple weeks. Too many nights watching spooky media about people living in walls or stalking new tenants — despite Skipper’s best efforts. So you keep one or more of the dogs with you at all times, fingers in their fur and lights on as you go. Ghost has been especially tolerant, leaning against your leg when the sun goes down and the house feels too strange.

You’ve always been grateful for the peace of mind that four huge wolf-dogs brings, but never more than now. With several sets of teeth surrounding your bed and guarding your locked doors, they’ve made the transition so much easier on your nerves.

The new forest behind the house is also some cause for concern. The first day you brought them home, you went out by yourself for quick inspection of the yard and immediate area. Sharp-eyed looking for glass, metal, or anything else dubious.

You came back to four extremely grumpy pups and were basically bullied out of leaving them alone again. Skipper was especially huffy that night.

But things feel like they’re beginning to settle. You’ve gotten a bigger couch, bigger floor cushions. There’s a second story to this new house — or more of a half-floor really. A loft? It consists of the master bedroom, master bathroom, and a sort of open-spaced landing that you’re using as a satellite collection zone for toys.

Sometimes, when you’re on the couch, you’ll catch a bit of movement and get spooked by one of the boys staring from the railing that overlooks the den. Have fussed at wagging Johnny twice now for it.

Still, the transition to your new home has been as smooth as you could ask for with four giant, protective dogs. You miss the old place a bit; have the irrational fear that you’re going to miss another displaced dog in need of a home, but you try not to think about it.

Maybe you should have thought about it a little more.

One evening, you let the boys out for their pre-bed potty. There’s a cup of chamomile tea in your hand, a blanket wrapped tight around your shoulders. Winter will be setting in soon. It’s already cold enough to set your teeth on edge. Never mind that it’s been raining all day, only just letting up to light patter at sunset.

Commotion at the edge of the (much larger) yard catches your attention. All of your boys seem to be gathered around something. They’re not barking or growling, and from the dim porch light, you don’t see hackles raised but still. Anything that catches their attention is worth investigating.

Cursing under your breath, you set your mug aside, slip into some shoes, and snatch up your phone for the flashlight. It’s only when you’re halfway there that you remember to pray that it’s not something dead. Or dying. Or creepy.

“Please don’t let this be a spooky doll or something,” you whisper to yourself.

Skipper must hear you, because his head pops up. He doesn’t… look concerned. But he’s a dog, how would he know that something in the yard is of human concern?

He trots away from their little congregation to meet you, almost like he’s escorting you to whatever they’re gathered around. You realize why when the flashlight illuminates a ball of soaked fur.

“Oh,” you breathe, “oh no…”

You gently nudge Konig aside to kneel down, a dry sob bubbling up in the back of your throat when you hear a quiet, miserable mew. A pair of brilliant green eyes squint and shy from the light, wide and sad.

“Oh, baby,” you coo. “Please come here. C’mon.”

You slowly, carefully extend a hand. Palm up, just a couple fingers. You’re not as familiar with cats anymore, but you remember enough to know that there‘ll be no scooping it up, even if it needs help. It’ll have to come to you of its own accord.

Relief floods you when you get the briefest cursory sniffle, and then the kitty is bumping its head against your hand for a scritch. You take a moment to pet what you can, heart breaking a bit with each shiver in the cold.

You keep coaxing it closer, gentle words and patient petting, getting bolder with your touch. When it’s finally close enough, the faintest purr rattling in its chest, you decide to try.

Apart from a nervous glance, the cat remarkably tolerant about letting you wrap your now-wet blanket around it, then scooping it up.

“Oof, you’re a big kid, huh?” You mutter, pausing to get a better hold. The darkness and hunkering down to preserve body heat was deceptive. This cat feels huge. “That’s alright, I’m used to it.”

You breathe a huge sigh when you enter the house again. It’s toasty inside — or at least it feels that way after sitting in the cold rain for fifteen minutes.

The boys files in after you, politely shaking off at the door before stepping into the mudroom. (Another upgrade you’ve been extremely grateful for.

You pause, try to get your bearings. You’ve got four soaked dogs, one possibly hypothermic cat, and you.

Christ, sometimes you wish you had an extra pair of hands.

“Okay. Let’s get the heater first.”

It’s already going, so you just turn it up a bit more, warm enough to start drying everyone. Then you go to the cupboard, sparing an arm from your oversized bundle to extract a towel.

You cross back to the heater and sit down, gently nestling your cat-burrito into the well of your legs.

The same big green eyes blink up at you, another mewl comes from it.

“Hi,” you croon, “isn’t that better already? Much warmer in here.”

You present the towel for inspection, let it sniff and decide it’s non-threatening before gently wiping it along the clumped fur. The dogs, to your surprise, don’t crowd to investigate. Skipper stops by to give the cat a sniff, before ultimately flopping down against your hip. But the other three arrange themselves around you, watching, but giving you and the kitty some space.

Remarkably thoughtful of them, and you tell them as much, praising their good behavior. The kitty, in the meantime, just… stares. It’s been a long time since you interacted with one, but you don’t remember your grandma’s tabby being so…

“Can I help you, little one?” You ask, grinning when it blinks at you slowly. You brush a finger under its chin, grinning when its eyes go half-lidded and nearly cross. “You’re worse than my Johnny boy with the staring.”

You receive a huff for that and laugh softly, making kissy noises at him until his tail thumps against the absorbent floor mat.

The cat is back to staring, though, ears up. You hum and keep up the half-scratching, half-drying technique until its fur starts to fluff up and you can take proper stock of the animal you’ve just rescued.

You weren’t kidding about it being big. Biggest cat you’ve ever seen — you’d almost think it was wild if not for the sweet face. You’re sure you might have seen the breed somewhere before…

Maine coon, maybe? Or… Siberian something or other? It’s fluffy, that’s for sure. But even without all the fluff that’s beginning to poof out like a dirty cotton ball, it’s a big cat. Big enough to be an average dog.

You huff in amusement that more it dries out.

“You look like a little storm cloud,” you giggle. “Well, little being relative.”

You receive a more normal-sounding meow for that. It thrills you that it’s already sounding better. Less sad, for sure.

The purring even start up again, developing into a deep hum like a running motor. It’s instantly soothing, the same way listening to the dogs’ breathing is. It lulls you until you’re nearly dozing sitting up. Only the wet nose of Skipper against your cheek rousing you.

“Jesus, right,” you say, jolting. Take a drowsy look around. All the boys seem dry or mostly dry. The only damp spot left on your new feline friend seems to be the feet, which won’t take much longer. “Let’s get inside proper.”

You lock up the mudroom and turn the heater low again, then urge everyone into the den. The cat doesn’t even hesitate, threading cleverly between your moving legs as you shuffle to the kitchen.

You prep an extra bowl of food and leave it up for the cat where the dogs can’t get it. Give it one last stroke from head to tail before trudging for the bathroom.

Normally, you’d be more concerned about leaving a cat in a house full of dogs. But the boys proved already that they have no interest in hurting the cat, despite the earlier crowding. Figure there are plenty of places to hide if they do make the kitty uncomfortable regardless.

The hot shower only serves to thicken the drowsiness blanketing you, leaving you heavy-lidded and sluggish. You pull the curtain aside to the usual audience of huge eyes, a new pair among them — the cat perched on the bathroom sink.

When you lean to grab your towel, they stick their face close for a sniff and you pause, always patient for curious creatures. When the little nose gets too close to your mouth, you twist and drop a quick peck to its snout before leaning back. The flabbergasted look makes you laugh as you begin toweling off.

“What a funny little thing you are,” you coo. “Would you like to be mind.”

“Mrrrow!”

“Yeah, I made a good first showing, huh?”

You have absolutely zero supplies for a cat, but that’s a problem for tomorrow. Right now, you just want to climb into bed and conk out. Home-making and animal-saving takes a lot out of you.

As always, the furry procession to your room leaves you warm and happy. Johnny always the first to hop into bed, licking your shoulder when you climb in beside him. Konig takes your other side, much more willing to snuggle now that you have the California King mattress to accommodate your pack. Ghost licks at Skipper’s chin in the doorway, then jumps up to lie by your hip, cuddling Johnny.

Skipper comes up last, padding over to receive one last kiss from you before lying by your feet, on the side closest to the door. You’re less concerned about kicking him now with the extra room, and enjoy the heat for your toes.

You almost startle at the soft thump next to your head. Turn and blink to see big green eyes blinking down at you, a purr nearly rattling your brain.

“Oh, hi,” you murmur, “make yourself at home.”

The cat does just that, curling himself onto a pillow and pressing his forehead into your neck. You nearly melt as you flick off the light. It’s warm and quiet and dark, just the breathing of warm bodies and soft tap of rain.

“I love you all so much,” you whisper, fingers threading into Konig’s coat. “My loves.”

The house’s new echoes are still unfamiliar, so it’s just a product of being half-asleep that makes you think you hear voices in the middle of the night.

[karinab00bs]

Playing In The Midnight

just a short drabble cuz i have no self-control.. and please understand if there’s any typos because I'm too lazy to crosscheck them

tags: smut, nonidol! reader x idol!karina, ass fucking

It was already late when he came home that night, though, judging from the light that was casting its beam from the bedroom, Karina must have been still awake. They had moved in together five years ago and one thing that he had learned was that Karina loved to do a Instagram live even when she doesn't show her face. She loves doing that often because her fans.

He was working late recently and was always happy to still have some time with Karina. Not to drag her into excessive talking so late at night, no. After so many years of being together, they had learned to be quiet and to enjoy the silence together, laying in each other's arms so they could fall asleep together.

He stepped closer to the bedroom and took a moment to enjoy the view that was offered to him. Karina was laying on his stomach, only dressed in her tight black shorts, that were flattering her ass perfectly, and a simple white t-shirt. Her eyes were fixed on the phone screen while talking to all her fans. He didn’t get a reaction from her at all and it wouldn’t have been the first time that she would blend everything else out because she was too focused on pleasing her fans.

A short glance at the screen revealed to him that the live would go on for a bit and he was perfectly aware of the fact that Karina wouldn’t just end the live to cuddle when she was so happy talking to her fans. His eyes wandered back to his girlfriend, her bare slim legs, her perfect ass that was offered to him on a silver platter. For a moment he tried to remember the last time they had sex and it was definitely too long. The longer he looked at her the more he wanted her.

With a slight smirk on his lips, he got rid of his tie and his jacket, placing them aside to make her at least aware of his presence– well at least he got a little smile from her before she focused again on the Instagram live to answer all her fans' question. He stepped over to the bed and straddled Karina’s hips unbothered.

Karina flinched for a brief moment but did nothing further, maybe because it was just a normal thing for them to do or maybe because Karina couldn’t let her guard down while doing an Instagram live. Although it gave him the perfect opportunity to try something new since Karina’s hands were so busy scrolling the comments. He leaned down to kiss the nape of her neck, while his long slim fingers slipped under Karina’s shirt, caressing the warm smooth skin underneath. God, how much he loved to touch her body. Even after all these years, he couldn’t get enough of Karina and even before they had started dating he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her.

Karina’s body shivered the moment his fingers were touching her skin and her voice sounded raspier when she was speaking. Especially when he slid his fingers under the waistband of her shorts he could see Karina was holding her breath but she didn’t stop - but neither did him. He pressed his hips down to rub himself on her perfect ass, could feel his cock growing inside his pants, could feel how his girlfriend confusion but also his arousal was increasing. And he didn’t waste any more time, got rid of Karina’s shorts.

“What are you doing?” Karina said under her breath, allowing herself a short moment of distraction but the words could have also been interpreted as a reaction to the live– at least for the fans who didn’t know what was going on. Karina’s lips were slightly parted, her breathing had become irregular, a shimmer of red was painting her cheeks and her ass was willingly presented to her boyfriend, while the skillful fingers of the latter were working her open.

He grinned, opened his pants and pushed them down enough to free his throbbing cock, that was aching to fuck Karina’s ass As he was finished with the preparations, he leaned forward and whisper to her.

“Fucking you deep and hard while you are busy.” He traced his tongue over her ear. “Don’t be too loud, they might hear you.”

Another soft kiss on her cheek before he placed and slid his cock smoothly into her, grabbing her hips to pull him even closer. Karina's fingers clenched hard around the phone and she opened her lips for a silent scream still unable to realize what was happening to her. Although she couldn’t deny that it was thrilling and hot and it had definitely been too long since she had felt her boyfriend hard cock inside of her– besides even after all these years together he didn’t fail to surprise her.

He didn’t waste any more time and started to fuck her, slowly at first, pulling his cock all the way out to thrust his whole length hard back inside, making Karina clench her fingers even harder around the phone while she was biting her lower lip. It was clearly amusing to watch Karina’s attempts to stay composed, holding her moans back even though all he wanted was to moan her boyfriend’s name out loud, he could see it and he was wondering how long she could keep her mouth shut.

Karina tried to focus on the screen, on the comments she sees over the phone and to push the right buttons to end the live and lock her phone but the only person that was pushing all the right buttons was her boyfriend, making it nearly impossible for her to concentrate on anything else but his perfect thick cock, that was fucking her so rough and fast. Unconsciously, she had arched her back, had spread her legs wider to give him more space to fuck her even deeper.

“Oh fuck, yes…” Karina whimpered as he hit that sweet spot inside of her hard and purposefully, making her whole body quiver and craving for even more. It was so hard to keep herself together, to stay quiet, so that her fans wouldn’t hear her getting so perfectly fucked by her boyfriend. But what did she care about all those fans when she had the real deal?

She could feel his plush soft lips on her back, kissing her neck and over her shoulders, drilling her even harder into the mattress until Karina finally let go of the phone and lifting her ass for him to thrust her from another angle.

“y/n, so good…” Karina moaned unbothered, the live and the fans forgotten, focusing only on the bubbling feeling that was increasing inside her stomach, dragging her closer and closer to the edge.

“Let them hear how much you like it to get fucked, baby.” He murmured inside her ear in a deep voice, grabbing Karina’s hips hard to pull her closer with every thrust, giving her no chance to prevent herself from moaning his name. She sounded so filthy, so naughty that some of the fans might have abandoned the live as well. He couldn’t tell as his eyes were fixed on this beautiful girl under him, shivering with every deep thrust, clenching her walls around his cock so welcoming, screaming his name out loud as he brought them both to climax, spilling his cum deep inside of her perfect heat.

[haunted-xander]

tbh one of, if not my absolute favorite part about ffxiv, is the small little moments/sections where nothing super big or like. Plot Important happens, but that give both the characters and us, the players, some much appreciated down-time to just. Feel things. And to process what's happened and what's going on or to just. Let us exist, in the moment. In a much more grounded and human way than when there's Big And Important Things happening.

The biggest(imo) and earliest example of this is right after the Waking Sands get raided in ARR, and WoL turns to the church for guidance. The entire section of us helping them gather and bury our fallen comrades, and especially bringing Noraxia home to Little Solace so she can be laid to rest in her homeland, by her own people and in their own cultural ways, was so so important to me.

Because it wasn't just replacable allies cast aside for shock value anymore, it was real. These deaths were real and meant something. I got to actually process what just happened, and I got to watch Banana go through it right with me. And not only did it make it feel real, it also gave me a sense of closure. These people, these friends, are dead, but they also got to be treated with the respect they deserve and laid to rest properly.

And that, more than anything else, made me want to save the world. It's grounded and grounding. This world, and these people, meant something to me, the player.

And there's tons of stuff like that throughout the game, especially in shadowbringers and endwalker.

In shb we have, for example, Lyna venting her anger and frustration after the sin eater attack in Lakeland. She's on her knees yelling on the verge of tears while punching the ground, so furious at her helplessness and powerlessness, at everyone having come so far yet set back because some megalomaniacal tyrant deemed it so.

In ew we have Urianger being approached by Moenbryda's parents, who confront him about not confiding in them about his grief. When Bloewyda starts to scold him, he of course reacts guiltily, believing they blame him, only for him to be completely caught off guard when she instead goes in to hug him, telling him he should have let them grieve with him. And he just. Breaks down. He's been holding these feelings, this grief inside him all this time, and now that he is not only told it's okay to let it out, but by her very own parents at that, he just can't keep it in anymore. He cries for Moenbryda, right then and there, being held lovingly by her family.

And the thing is, these scenes aren't necessary, strictly speaking. The plot at large could go on without them, the events that happen around them are not changed by these moments in any way.

But still, they are so so important, to the world, to the characters, to the players. Everything feels real and impactful now, every death means something, every tragedy, every person, feels real.

And that, to me, is what makes this story so special.

[rnakamura22]

Yandere Lillia Vanrouge

prefect is female!

The mysterious former general of the army of the Briar Valley 700 year old vampire fairy. Vice dorm leader of Diasomnia.

He thought his love ended with Malleus’s mom, the princess he swore to protect.

But then, you came along. A complete opposite direction of who he used to love. You were fragile, unable to use magic, kind and always looking out for others, bold and fearless, and far from the spectrum when it comes to throwing tantrums or being prideful and selfish because let’s be real. The princess was not the best gal when it came to listening to people or thinking about the consequences. We have to say it. She tried to make pranks on the Queen’s wand for god damn sake!

From Lillia’s eyes, you were like a baby. 16 year old!? That’s a baby! And yet you work hard so much despite the hardships you have to endure, amusing and kind , and not to mention mesmerizing and pretty! He had competition when it come to you for sure, but Lilia could feel the love burning in his heart. He had second thoughts about the age gap though. (I mean, what will happen at you and his kid’s parent and teacher conferences or field days?) But he put that aside. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it!

Lilia starts popping up in your daily lives, helping you with homework, and coming to Ramshackle Dorm to talk with you. Being a rather cute appearance for a guy,(Let’s face it, he’s cute and pretty)it’s easier to let down your guard with him.

that’s where the villain comes into the picture. He starts manipulating you, controlling your schedule, who you talk to, spreading rumors about you, and maybe casting a few spells to keep off pests. Soon, Lilia is all you can think about.

A way back home? That’s uncertain and dangerous! The risk is too horrible to consider! Lilia is determined to keep you safe and sound. He puts all bad things out of the way(AKA mess with your memories by magic), and smile cutely when you confess to him.

“To think I get a cute lover at this age! Life truly surprise me!”

Lilia cares about you, never puts you aside, and swear to protect you. He’s a fae, and faes are possessive. You could never outrun him, and he will never lose you, and Lilia will do whatever it takes to prove that.

[ceruleancattail]

Mage Ruggie

With a little yandere snippet at the very end

Ruggie as a mage.

He’s not from any official clan of mages. His grimoire was found by him at some lonely tavern, on a table with not a single soul in sight. So he did what any normal person would do. Hold onto it… for “safe-keeping”. Hey, it was left unattended. Finders keepers, right?

Most of what he knows was picked up from talking to other magicians, wheedling out the secrets of spell casting from their drunken tongues. His grimoire is crinkled, certain pages dogeared and filled with Ruggie’s scrawl on what works, what doesn’t as well as handy tips or tricks he’s picked up along the way. His staff was carved out by his own very two hands, with a lot of splinters in his fingers in the process.

Ruggie can’t stand people who say he’s not a real mage. That all his spells are just parlour tricks, all flash and bang. That he’ll never measure up to the real mages who work day and night to study the great spells of the ancients.

He doesn’t really say much to them, though. Ruggie just laughs it all off, before walking away, hands in his pockets. Those people might just find themselves the victims of some very unsettling pranks later, but that’s just karma working its way around.

Nothing to do with Ruggie, nope!

Ruggie may not be a “real mage” in their eyes, but the spells he’s learnt painstakingly under flickering candlelight are as real as anything he’s ever known. He works as hard, if not even more harder then any mage up there in the capital. Ruggie’s capability and flexibility in multiple different types of spells prove it all.

What’s the use of a great big ol’ ancient spell that requires ten chants to be finished in succession if a simple word could do the job? You wouldn’t have time to piece all those words together in a raid, before you’re felled by a sword through your chest.

Mage Ruggie who’s a little soft on you, despite his abrupt denials of it. Who checks on you on every so often, gaze flickering towards your face when your party is out on an adventure. If you show any signs of fatigue, he’s silently slipping by your side, threading his arm through yours. Huh, tired already? You can lean on him for a while… it’s gonna’ cost you, though!

Mage Ruggie who helps out with the cooking. He’s chattering away as he’s slicing up ingredients, playfully elbowing you aside whenever your arms align with his. Hey, hey, speed things up, slowpoke! He’s already done! Ruggie’s skilled at scavenging for edible things in the wild.

A skill picked up because of necessity, really. The party eats whatever he finds, but if you have any special requests… just bring it up to him. Ruggie can’t promise you the exact same thing but… he’ll do his best to get you something close.

Mage Ruggie who limps over to you after the battle’s over. He’ll hide his injuries the best he can, his laughter masking the grimace that he pulls whenever he sets a little too much weight on one leg. He’ll only ever let down his guard when both of you are alone, really.

At first, he used to bandage his wounds alone. Making makeshift bandages out of tattered cloth, smearing slaves onto them. Now, however, he leans onto you and whines about how much it’s hurting, how he’s suffering so, so badly until you patch him up. As with everything, he tries to hide the grunts of pain and squeaks with bluster and jokes, forcing through a smile as you dab at his wounds gently. He jokes his way through, but the small, soft thank you he whispers to you in the end?

That’s genuine. As genuine as it gets.

Ruggie does appreciate you, really. Even if he doesn’t say it. He’s grown a little too comfortable adventuring with you. A little too attached, to you.

He likes having someone to bluster with, something who’ll laugh at his horrible jokes. Someone who’ll have his back no matter when, no matter what. He likes being around you.

He loves you.

And that’s the realest thing he’s ever known.

And now because it isn’t a cerulean fic without something dark-

Tw: yandere, corpses, going against the law of nature for your love….

Mage Ruggie who had to cradle your dying body in his own two hands. Who had to hold you, during those last, final moments. Who had to feel the last embers of warmth disappear from your chest, to see the light in your eyes fade…

Mage Ruggie who’s never been a true, certified mage in the name of the law. He’s already been deemed as a “fake”. As something lesser to a bona fide, capital groomed mage. So what’s harm of breaking a law or two?

“One shalt nev'r reanimate a c'rpse, f'r betrayal of the laws of nature shall bringeth a fate w'rse than death”

Whoever came up with that law never once loved someone, did they?

So Ruggie sets your weary bones in a circle, runes craved into soil, gorged out the ground by his own two hands. He shuts your eyes gently, presses a soft, tender kiss into your lips before retreating back. Raising his staff, speaking the words of the forbidden.

Of the wrong.

But if something as simple as love can shatter this world, perhaps it deserves to be shattered. Whatever happens to the world, Ruggie can’t just bring himself to care. Once he sees your eyes open, he’s immediately dropping into his knees, crawling to your side. Clutching at your hands with trembling fingers, bringing it towards his cheek. Sobbing as he watches your chest rise and fall, as your forehead wrinkle in confusion.

Ruggie would set this world alight,

if only to feel the warmth of your gentle touch on his skin again.

[lostinsaltburn]

Oliver & Farleigh Analysis

These two are so interesting to me. From the beginning I think Farleigh was intrigued by him. In the office with the Professor, it was like a little dance, who would take the lead. Farleigh obviously knew the way the world of Oxford worked - the way the world of money worked. Oliver it feels in this scene was genuinely displaced when he realized that his work ethic, his intellect didn't matter here. The little dance between them, each taking a step forward, sizing each other up. Farleigh was intrigued by the confidence Oliver had; someone yet to be broken and disappointed that even at a fine establishment of higher learning, intelligence didn't mean much, status and money like everywhere else was what mattered. Farleigh knew better how to wear that mask, how to merge into that crowd even though it feels like he is also wearing a mask, feeling like he's playing a character, like he's an imposter in that world but doesn't know how to be different or even if he wants to be.

As they spend more time together through Felix, Oliver suspects that maybe Farleigh sees the glimmer of similarity between them, the mirror between them that shows their identical intentions. That's why Oliver plays it the way he does with Farleigh, smart enough not to just cast him aside because he understands his opinions hold weight to the Catton's.

To me the sex scene between them is for sure a means to an end for Oliver, to get rid of a annoyance, a spanner in the works. But I also think it was done in an unconscious way to further assert his dominance. Like Farleigh and him are toe to toe the entire film. Always taking jabs at each other, always trying to win the metaphorical game that only they knew was being played. So I feel like the sex, yes the dominance during but also the simple fact that for all the hatred and straight dismissal that Farleigh has cast toward Oliver, still his resolves falls when it comes to sex. All convictions out the window, this disgust he's shown toward Oliver the entire film just doesn't mean anything when the chance to have an orgasm comes into play.

It's like a last fuck you to Farleigh, a real big middle finger, I WON THE GAME, because even if you find out what I did with the email, you still let your guard down, you let me win just to get your dick wet. HOW EMBARRASING. Strong willed, bitchy, better then all Farleigh lost a game to weird little stray Oliver because of SEX.

When Farleigh turns back up I think it's a damn surprise for Oliver and again another reminder that for all he think's he knows about this world he wants to be part of, he still knows so little. It's like an unspoken, you won round #1 but you won't win the game.

[patito-oward]

First Night

masterlist

WC: 1.6k

Summary: YN and Pato spend their first night together

Previous Parts: I

me posting?? who is she. i hope you all love please repost if you do 🤍🤍

~

Pato had arrived at her house the next night to take her out once again. They went on a series of 6 dates in two weeks, and had become quite enamored with each other in that time. YN was hesitant at first, trying to keep her guard up while she waited for the other shoe to drop, but Pato had wormed his way in. It was hard to not let her walls down and let him in when he was so incredibly sweet.

Their second date Pato picked her up in a rented Toyota Corolla which made YN giggle when she saw it. “You actually rented a car to pick me up in?”

“I’m on my third strike and I couldn't risk it.”

Pato knew when he first saw her that she was special, but never expected to fall as hard and as fast as he had. He had come to expect that he was not seen as “boyfriend material” for most women. He knows his schedule and frequent travel doesn’t scream commitment. He had gotten used to a few dates, maybe a couple hookups, and not much more. He tried to convince himself he was okay with that. That the one night stands were fun and he needed to focus on his career anyways, and he was fulfilled by it. It worked– sometimes.

It worked until he’d watch a cheesy romance movie and think about how much he wanted someone to be by his side, or until he had a kid come up so him at a race, a gap in their front teeth and incredibly excited to meet him, and he realized how much he wanted a family of his own.

So he cut off the hookups, because after each one he would be left with this lasting feeling of emptiness, and he’d stopped going on dates for the most part, accepting that his career has prevented him from what he really wanted. If it hadn’t been for Elba’s incessant nagging, he wouldn’t have gone on the date with YN. He’s never been more thankful to have such an annoying older sister.

He invited YN over so he could cook dinner for her, and he was suddenly very nervous about how the night would go. He had tried to plan the perfect night, decorating his table with a large vase of red roses and candles, but as she got closer to arriving he started to doubt himself and wonder if it was too much. He doesn’t want a repeat of their first date where she was clearly overwhelmed.

Before he could think too much about it or change anything, his doorbell rang, and he decided to just try and make the best of the night. The second he opened the door he felt a lot better, she had that effect on him, just seeing her seemed to lower his heart rate and calm him down. She looked absolutely gorgeous in a pair of dark jeans and a cropped sweater.

“Hi!” She greeted him with the sweetest smile and he realized how utterly gone he was for her.

“Hi, you look beautiful.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, a quick gesture but even that made his stomach flip, and moved aside so she could come in.

She had seen his apartment before, but only briefly when he realized he left his phone after he picked her up, and invited her inside. He could tell she was really taking in the place now, the night time made it seem different, softer, the few lights he had on cast a soft glow through the place.

The timer on his phone went off and he headed towards the oven to take out dinner. He made pasta for the night, and it was in the oven to bake the cheese he topped it with. It was when they reached the kitchen that she took note of the dining table.

“Is it too much? I’m sorry if it is; I just wanted tonight to go perfect and I’ve messed it up already.” He started apologizing without her saying anything.

“It’s gorgeous. I can't believe you set this all up and thought I wouldn’t like it.” YN assures him, and kisses him hard trying to show him all of her gratitude.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Dinner is easy, like most things have become between them. YN has never felt so comfortable with someone, and wants to tell him everything. Pato already wants YN to know the deepest parts of him, he wants to learn her inside and out and vice versa.

The thing they’ve taken to talking to most is their families, and they’ve learned so much about each other through that. They both have one sibiling, their best friend, and they’re both extremely close to their families. In a lot of ways YN reminds him of Elba, when she talks about her younger sister he can tell how much he cares for her. She tells him about how she used to watch her sister frequently while her mom worked two jobs to support them. In a sense he feels like he’s met her sister and mother, the way she describes them he can tell there’s so much love between them.

They’ve completely gone through the getting to know you stage, conversations now filled with stories and deep conversations about fears and the future.

After dinner they settle onto the couch, and are scrolling for something to watch. Pato has a large, comfy sectional, but YN has chosen to curl up right against him. It sends a warmth through him, he can smell the mix of her strawberry shampoo and vanilla perfume, and decides it is his new favorite smell. He wraps his arm around her and she leans on his shoulder.

They scroll through netflix and find a baking show to spend the rest of the night watching. It was less about what they were watching for both of them, and more about just being together; however, they both got quite into the show, enjoying watching the competition and judging the bakers themselves.

As the night went on, YN grew pretty drowsy on the couch, and after an episode ended announced, “I should probably head home soon.”

When she sat up, Pato immediately missed the weight of her against him. “Ok, I guess it is getting pretty late.”

She kissed him then, “Thank you for dinner.”

“I’ll make dinner more often if that’s what it gets me.” She laughs at his response and leans in for another kiss.

The kiss quickly deepens, but it’s soft and slow. YN moves herself to be sitting on his lap, knees bracketing his hips. Up until this point they haven’t done anything other than kissing and heavy petting. Pato desperately wanted to know every inch of YN, but knows that if he does what he has always done the results will always be the same. Plus the teasing has been incredibly hot, and he’s willing to wait for her.

When they pull away from each other they’re both a little breathless. Pato can feel his heartbeat in his throat, and is glad the room is dark because he’s sure there’s a pink tint across his face. He speaks before he can stop himself, “Don’t go.”

YN freezes in her spot perched in his lap, “What?”

“I don’t want you to leave. Stay, I’ll sleep on the couch if you want, we don’t have to do anything, just don’t go.” He’s begging at this point, but he really can’t stand the thought of her leaving him.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch.” She leans in for another kiss, so soft he almost doesn’t feel it.

He gently coaxes her off his lap and leads her to his room. He grabs them both some pajamas from his dresser. He gives her a pair of sweatpants and an arrow mclaren hoodie, remembering that she’d told him she freezes in the night.

He got out an extra toothbrush for her, and showed her where his face wash and medicine was. While she got ready, he got dressed himself. They switched places when she came out of the bathroom.

As she waited for him she looked around his room, not what she expected, but she didn’t really know what she expected. He had a white comforter and sheets on the bed, with black and copper throw pillows. The furniture is black metal and dark wood, giving an industrial but homey vibe to the room.

He leaves the bathroom and YN takes the opportunity to really sink him in. He’s in a pair of grey sweatpants that make her a little crazy, and a tight white long sleeve that hugs his biceps so perfectly she’s drooling.

They climb into his bed together and YN immediately notices his smell enveloping her. He smells woodsy and warm. YN notices that they both climbed into opposite sides without thinking about it, another way they fit so perfectly together.

Pato lays on his back and YN hesitates before curling into his side. He wraps his arms around her shoulder and she entangles her leg with his and rests her hand on his chest, “Is this ok?” She asks him.

He can’t believe she even has to ask because he’s never been better. “Perfect.”

She starts absentmindedly scratching at his chest, and the last thing she remembers before drifting off is Pato kissing her head and whispering, “Buenas noches.”

That was the first of many nights spent together for YN and Pato. Already fallen for each other much more than either was willing to admit. Their souls as intertwined as their legs.

[silent-sanctum]

Do you do AUs? If you do, may I request Jotaro x fem!reader where he is a mafia boss? 💖💖💖

Oh anon, I absolutely love writing AUs, they're actually my specialty ^^ So I had a nice time writing this one for you. Everyone say thank you to anon for the request~ Granted, mafia aus are the fics I'm not too well-versed with, but I did my best! Hope you and the others enjoy it!💖

Lowlife Princess - Jotaro x Reader

word count: 9.9k+

3 minuscule clangs echoed throughout the darkened ballroom, followed by the screams of pain.

How unfortunate was it to think that this space used to harbor so much events may it be a drinking fest to drown the glutinous, a town hall meeting to indulge the corrupt, hell maybe even an orgy to satisfy the lustful.

Though with a couple of crimson smeared on the walls, unhinged doors cast aside useless on the floor, ruined furniture rid of their contents, and shattered glass from tall windows, the once grandeur of the hall has now been reduced to a decrepit room for slaughter.

All because the greedy politician couldn’t pay his debt.

Within the four corners, men in tailored suits stood by with an assortment of weaponry in their hands- a barbed bat, bladed steel, warm-tipped guns, etc. They remained still and stood to block every path of escape, watching their leader circle around his victim with a simple revolver in hand.

Around him, countless bodies of his guards lay motionless. All done by his hands. Red filled the spaces unoccupied by their corpses. His family was left unharmed but kept under close surveillance in case they try to flee and report.

And of the old coot? He’s bound to the singular chair in the middle of the room, stripped down to his sweat-soaked undershirt and piss stained boxers. 2 bullet wounds punctured his thighs, one each, bleeding profusely down his legs, while the last blew his right ear right off.

With the man stopping before him, the politician whimpered. “I-I swear the money was on its way 2 days ago! You can check my messages for proo-”

“I don’t give a fuck about your messages,” the boss gritted out, gripping the chair’s arms to lean forward with a deathly glare. “You owe us a shitload of funds and this is the third time you haven’t paid what’s due.”

This was also him being extra generous mostly due to this guy’s history with his family, but at the first sign of noncompliance, he won’t be tracing his roots just to spare one influential man. There are many other fishes in the sea after all.

He eyed the darkening skies outside the window and clicked his tongue. “It’s getting late. Might as well loot all your possessions and hack into your accounts to find my severance pay.” At the snap of his fingers, 4 of his men bowed and got to work in an instant.

With a cock of his head, another brandished a knife to slice the ropes off of the quivering politician. The adult immediately planted his face on the cold floor in a full bow, still whimpering. “T-Take all that I have! Just p-please let me go! I’ll find more ways to pay you more!”

The leader pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his blood-tipped gun, not looking at him. “I already let you go.”

A sliver of hope grew on his pathetic face. “Does that mean you’ll spare me?”

“No.”

Another bang echoed within the spacious area and the politician dropped to the ground with the others, a bullet lodged through his forehead.

He spared no more time watching his corpse rot on the floor and turned on his heels with the swish of his long coat. His men stood aside as he crossed through the door frame. “Report to me the details of the ‘transactions’ at my office. Understood?”

“Yes sir!”

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

Jotaro Kujo was what one would describe as “ruthless yet reasonable”.

Being the 3rd patriarch of his family bloodline at the age of 28, he was a smart figure with a penchant for methodical violence. He had a lot responsibilities managing the Sangyosei, one of Japan’s most dangerous yakuza clans, infamous for its reputation of gaining followers through material benefit and killing traitors with prolonged torture.

It wasn’t hard but the fact that the 1st patriarch, Jonathan, established the Joestar mafia lineage in Europe and the 2nd, Joseph, in North America, it made the whole structuring a whole hierarchy from the ground up a hassle to deal with.

But it took him a couple months of proving what he’s capable of to his lackeys and enemies, until the Japanese mafia has solidified its place with its current reputation.

And while power felt good to many, he would thrive in it if he didn’t have to deal with … other matters. Paperwork. Interviews. Secret meetings. Training. Dealing with backstabbers.

Jotaro needed a break once in a while. Good grief.

He stepped out of his car, unbothered by the amount of blood painted on his long black coat, and walked through the clan headquarters' main entrance, followed by his men behind him. “Good day, sir.” Two maids bowed upon entry.

“Kakyoin, any updates on the tasks I told about earlier?” Jotaro paid no attention to the ladies’ greetings, instead shrugging off his coat to dump into their arms for wash. “I’m expecting an increase of numbers.”

A man with red curled hair decked in a sharply-pressed olive green suit stepped aside from the line of soldiers, a tablet in hand displaying the needed information. “Yes sir. Accordingly, I’ve received reports from Polnareff that whatever Takahashi had in his possessions, they managed to sack everything valuable he had in his manor and wired all his saved money into your account.”

He handed over the device into the boss’ hand as the two reached the top of stairs where his office situated. Jotaro flicked through the images of accessories and priceless décor and read the success notification of money transferred. “And the clean-up?”

“Avdol already ordered them to get rid of the bodies,” Kakyoin said as he opened the door for the raven-haired to enter. Behind them, two stationary guards stood by to shut them close.

And behind shut doors, Jotaro could finally let that menacing mask off his face for once and slump onto his chair, hanging up his hat on the nearby rack beside him. “This is the 5th time someone hasn’t met deadlines. Why do I still bother offering at this point…”

“Well, you could either say it was due to Ms. Holly’s influence on you or your great grandfather’s values,” Kakyoin said.

The boss pinched the bridge of his nose with the hints of a headache coming any minute. “Damn their persevering good will. Makes me wonder why Jonathan started a business this shady in the first place.”

“Hey boss! We’re back!”

The doors burst open to welcome a silver-haired Frenchman with the indigo suit and upbeat personality, and a dark-skinned man beside him who received all the embarrassment for his companion with his persimmon robes. “Polnareff, what did I say about keeping the noise down?”

“Ah come on, it’s just us here. Let loose for a bit.”

Aside from his numerous men working for him, Jotaro kept a close circle of guards around him, those who had better skills and attributes than the rest. Kakyoin, the one who offered his services in exchange for protection from the Kyuketsuki clan, was the one responsible directing his orders to the others and the one who obtains details about almost everything.

Polnareff and Avdol were both transferred from the American branch under the instructions of Joseph Joestar. Those two shared the same role of leading selected groups of men to do Jotaro’s bidding.

Years of working together had granted these 3 adults privilege to be informal with their leader and the latter to be more lenient towards them. However, they all knew very well not too take his generosity for granted.

“Well… what’s next on the itinerary boss?” Pol asked, reaching into his suit to pull out a lighter for a smoke. With his cigarette lit, he tossed the silver item into Jotaro’s waiting hand.

“Imports from Italy are scheduled to arrive at the docks tomorrow dawn.” He brought the small flame to the tip of his cigarette and flicked the lid close with a tiny clang. Blowing out a puff of smoke, he continued. “But I’ve also heard that bastard’s planning a raid to get rid of the stationed guards and loot all the guns from their crates.”

“Should we inform them of the attack?” Avdol spoke out.

“No need. I already phoned the captain of the ship to change the time of arrival from dawn to late evening. Those who were standing by have already received the new schedule and to prepare themselves in the probable case Brando’s lackeys do proceed with the raid.” The leader said, eyeing the map and other paperwork on his desk.

“And the cops?”

“Sent representatives to deal with them. If they do what they’re told accordingly, then we’re in the clear.”

All three nodded. “How about you,” Kakyoin said. “Are you coming with us to inspect the imports?”

Jotaro huffed and pressed the cigarette butt against the image of a blond man smirking at him through the photo.

The cool surface of his revolver grew prominent as he said with a sneer. “Wouldn’t miss an opportunity to take him down along with his bloodthirsty crew.”

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

It was 11:30 in the evening and Jotaro walked through the alleyways leading to the docks with his men trailing behind him.

Prior to his departure from headquarters, he asked for any details if any sudden appearances transpired between 5 to 6 in the morning. Reports told him that several men did arrive fully armed with weapons, bearing the fang and blood tattoos on their skin.

And they were dispatched of at first sight.

Throughout the rest of the day, the raven-haired’s guards continued to monitor the area with sharp eyes, just in case the bastard tried to sneak another raid in an attempt to claim territory. He had another group of guards keeping an eye on nearby windows just in case someone dared to take him out in the clear.

But he arrived at the place the same time the ship delivered his goods with the captain and his crew members lowering the last of them onto the pavement. Around him, his men dispersed to secure the area and stood guard while their leader approached further.

The nearby street light allowed him to glance down and notice the visible red smears still on the wood panels below him and on those surrounding the landing docks. There’s the confirmation.

Though as he was about to move past the two buildings, Avdol spoke behind him. “Boss, you should stay hidden for now. Just so you wouldn’t feel too exposed.”

Jotaro regarded him for a split second and gave one nod. “Open them then but I still plan to have a personal talk to the captain after they load the goods.”

“We’ll just inform about your request to see him. Where shall the meeting take place?” Kakyoin said.

“Bring him to the nearest room here. Clear the area and make sure no one is around. I’d rather meet back at HQ but I know the captain has a tight schedule to follow.”

No further questions were asked and together with his two other personal guards, the red-haired turned to his tablet and went off around the corner.

Jotaro watched Polnareff and Avdol order people to open the crates, and felt satisfaction fill him as soon as he saw the items lifted from the sea of white Styrofoam- Beretta PM12 and MAC-10 sub-machine guns, Beretta 92 and Staccato CS handguns, numerous batches of ammunition, combat knives, bulletproof vests, and a couple of expensive wines and pasta as courtesy from Giorno Giovanna, Passione’s mafia boss- a subset branch of the Joestar business that Jotaro made connections with beforehand.

He shoved a hand into his pant pocket and had the other reach for his phone, informing his assistant to make sure the transaction wired to the young blond end up in success.

Though as he finished with the call, a commotion occurred in the direction of where he came from. He turned to see what caused the ruckus and stepped one foot back at the pack of rats worming around him.

Tiny scattering footsteps grew into regular human footsteps, echoing louder as it drew close. Jotaro reached for his revolver in an instant-

Only for a woman to jump out of the shadows in a panic and grab him with no ounce of decency, hiding behind him. “Help! Help me please!” The fuck? Informing his men of the intruder should be done by now, but she continued to point into the alleyway. “Some thugs are chasing me down! Hide me please!”

On cue, a couple more footsteps could be heard from a distance alongside the audible squabbling of men stating that they heard someone run here. Jotaro kept a firm stance and fixed his attention to the growing noise until a mob of 15 men came barging in with flushed faces and rabid mouths.

He gave one quick scan down their body to find the semblance of some tattoos belonging to a clan only to find none. The leader cocked his head. Just a bunch of predators I see.

One of them walked in front with a bottle of sake in hand with a hiccup. “Oi… you there… I think you should give her to us.”

“Why should I?”

The drunk laughed, turning to his fellow drunkards. “Would you look at this punk?” He spat on the ground. “You gonna regret denying us-”

“Take one step forward and you’ll be the one regretting.” The guy gave one last chuckle and put one foot forward-

Bang.

The sound rang throughout the alley, followed by the dull thud of his body collapsing onto the ground with a bullet wound in his head. Behind him, the woman yelped as she covered her ears from the sudden shot. The remaining mob staggered back in shock.

As if he wasn’t stupid enough, two more of them ran to the yakuza leader’s direction in a blind fit of rage, only for them to meet the same fate as the first with two more blasts of his revolver.

The rest of them cowered at the sight of their fallen brethren and froze on the spot. Behind Jotaro, his own men came running in at the sound of gunfire, and the rushing footsteps were enough for the mob to make a run for it. “Gun them down. All of them and make sure no one escapes.”

No response was needed as Polnareff charged into the shadows with his line of men, while Avdol and Kakyoin remained by their leader’s side.

“You…”

He grabbed the lady’s wrist and kept her securely in his grasp. “You’re coming with us to HQ to sort this little ‘mess’ you brought in today.”

She said nothing but offered him furrowed brows and a scowl in exchange.

“Kakyoin, have the captain wait for one of my calls and tell Polnareff to return as soon as they’re dealt with. And Avdol, secure the imports and bring them to base as soon as possible.”

“I have… other matters to deal with right now.”

Just as they retreated back into the shadows, the resounding gunshots echoed through the night.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

“Why am I dragged into this?” she said as she stood in the middle of the room, constantly glancing at the men watching her. “I’m the one being chased down yet somehow I’m also guilty enough to be here?”

“You’re here because you trespassed into yakuza territory and grabbed me unceremoniously that would have ended you dead like your chasers,” Jotaro said in return, leaning against his chair. “Consider yourself lucky that I left you alive.”

“Okay fine! I get it was rude for me to just throw myself to you out of nowhere and I’m thankful that you didn’t shoot me immediately,” she rambled on but the leader merely cocked a disinterested brow. “I’ll stop talking then. What do you want? Why did you bring me here in the first place?”

“Bold words for someone trapped in a lion’s den,” Pol spoke up, chuckling.

To which the woman averted her gaze to him with intentional judgment. “First time? What are you gonna do? Shoot me?” The Frenchman spluttered and reached for his gun, only for Avdol to stop him with a visible ‘what are you doing’ look to his face.

“Let’s start things of with some basic details about yourself. Start with your name-”

“Now why the hell would why-”

Multiple guns pointed to her, causing her to shut up with arms up in the air. “Your name, age, and occupation.”

Jotaro heard the lady mumble to herself before heaving a sigh and answering his query. “Y/N. 27. Investigator. You can check my pockets for my ID or badge or whatever.”

Avdol did what she said and found her identification card and badge, both having her in the pictures clear as day. “An informant and detective..,” the Egyptian muttered. “Boss, if we consider her occupation and… distasteful behavior, this could spell trouble for us in the long run.”

“Distasteful?!”

“I hear you Avdol, though with the information learned, we might be able to benefit from it as well.” The raven-haired turned to the woman as he poured himself a glass of imported whiskey. “I presume you’re smart enough to know that by having one yakuza clan save you from those drunks, you’re indebted to us.”

A rebuttal wanted to leave her mouth but with a swallow, she nodded. “Should’ve expected it.”

“You have two choices,” the clan leader presented a wad of bills and a pistol on his desk. “You pay us about 1 000 000 yen for our job and for you to shut up about this whole ordeal-”

“What?! But I don’t have that much mon-”

“Or,” Jotaro held up a hand, not finished with his sentence. “Offer your services to the Sangyosei Clan.”

All three of his personal men turned to him with surprise. Even Y/N widened her eyes at the choice of words. “B-Boss what?”

“Couldn’t we at least just make her one of our eyes in the city?” Kakyoin butted in. “We’ll just make sure she doesn’t end up spilling intel about the underground.”

“It won’t be permanent,” he said in return. “Only for a year or for how long I deem it to be.”

“Does she even know how to fight? Our job isn’t exactly a walk in the park.” Polnareff added to the cherry-haired’s concerns.

“That’s for us to see.” Jotaro snapped his fingers, prompting the attention of everyone in the room. “With the exception of my personal guards, I order for every man in this room to attack her. No guns or blades.”

The lady was appalled at the sudden decision and took in all 6 suited men with their fists up, ready to charge. She made sure to turn to the boss and cocked her head, tonguing the inside of her cheek. “Asshole.”

Admittedly, he didn’t know what to expect but he was curious on how developed she was in terms of combat. At the first advance of a guard, Y/N stepped to the side and elbowed the guy in the ribs, before dodging another incoming punch aimed for her face.

In return, she returned the favor and swept a kick on his knees, toppling him down. On her feet again, she lunged forward to the next guard, grabbed his arm, and twisted around, eliciting a yell from the man. Planting her foot on his back, she launched the guard onto the other one, knocking them both down.

With nimble feet and quick reflexes, she evaded the swings the remaining men had for her. Though, at an opening, Y/N ducked through them and landed a direct chop to one guard’s nape, dodging the last one’s last attempt at a jab. With his momentum lost, she returned the punch with one of her own, delivering a blow straight to his face.

To her luck, she was near the boss’s desk and with no hesitation, went for the pistol and aimed the gun at Jotaro.

“Boss!”

But the raven-haired only smirked, watching as Y/N tried to pull the trigger only for nothing but a dull click to come out. “Impressive. You’ve indeed excelled in your combat training for you to handle 6 grown men with no weapon… aside from reaching the fake model to shoot me with.”

“How’d you-”

“Quick look into your online profile and messages addressed to martial art trainers both new and old will do wonders in providing me information. Combined with your fearless attitude and your chosen career path, one could put two and two together.”

In a flash, Y/N yelped as he swiped the fake gun off her hand in a second, and pointed his revolver to her in the next. “Makes me wonder why you couldn’t fend off the bastards in the alleyways.”

“They were more than double of the men you have in this room, most armed with something. Even I have my limits boss-nim,” she scowled.

Jotaro huffed and gestured for Polnareff and Avdol to move. “Take her to her quarters. I’ll have my men fetch your essentials from your residence and you can start training tomorrow.”

Y/N clicked her tongue with irritation, but allowed the two guards to bring her to the ordered location. At their exit, he exhaled one long sigh, removing his hat to run his fingers through his black curls.

“I hope you know what you’re doing…” Kakyoin muttered quietly.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

What was promised to be a year or two turned to five.

And the next thing Jotaro knew was that Y/N rose in ranks, earning her a spot in his close circle of guards alongside the three men.

She was his right hand man.

And in an unexpected turn of events, he had strange fondness for her.

He could still remember how she performed during her first few weeks at headquarters despite her initial wish of just wanting to get out of her unfortunate situation. The leader had watched her sessions and monitored her performances.

He had to give it to this lady- she knew her way with weaponry as she was with physical combat.

She had near to perfect aim whenever she shot with the gun of her choice, had prowess in handling knives around their test dummies, and had able to withstand daily endurance tests that checked how good her stamina was.

With further research, Jotaro found out that you were an honors graduate at a police university that just so happened to have a club centered around martial arts. He double checked the images depicting her in the institute’s uniforms, scanned several lists she was in.

In every single one, she was there and he didn’t have to search further when her name would often be among the top students.

No wonder Y/N had no issues talking with criminals at their home base.

As days passed and she was given her own set of suits post training period, she was allowed in fulfilling assignments and thus followed orders from either Polnareff and Avdol to made sure whatever was asked was done, may it be to keep watch on a specified target, gun down non-compliant debtors, or secure an important object from a neighboring prefecture.

In the process, Y/N managed to be close friends with the two group leaders and his assistant:

“Hey you know, you’re not that bad as I initially thought.” Polnareff laughed, patting Y/N’s back.

“Really? But I do recall you wanting to shoot me when I was extra bratty that day…”

“Well who wouldn’t? Besides, you’re cool now. You do your job as a goon pretty well!”

She scoffed with a smile and a glass of alcohol in hand. They did come from a new mission to kill a new target and now they’re here in a small pub with blood splattered clothes. “Now that I think of it, I’d be annoyed by myself too, but… you’re right. After all, I do my job the best to my capabilities. Whatever it is.”

“To that I give my cheers to.”

“Is everything secured?”

“Hm, with Group A having returned fully loaded from floors 3 and 4 and Group B having cleared ground and 2nd floor and have helped with the other men, then I’d consider this a successful raid.”

Avdol smiled to himself, contented with a cleared task. “Though I have to say, it’s quite surprising that the Viper gang had several meditation books kept in one of the shelves.”

“And you’re saying this why?”

“Well, outside the bloodshed stress that I found myself in, I’d take most of my free time meditating in my room.”

“A zen person I see,” Y/N chuckled. “I figured you’d be one to let out some pent-up hassle through relaxing means.”

She crossed her arms and sighed. “I doubt our job won’t get any easier so Avdol-san,” you brought up one of the gang’s meditation books for the dark-skinned man to see. “Mind teaching me some of these relaxing methods you’ve mastered?”

With the rest of Jotaro’s men now heading back, the red-haired had stalled for a moment in the area of the interview to record the details of the events, making him more vulnerable to potential-

“Kakyoin!”

He turned around in shock at the sudden ambush of enemies heading straight for him. Though the guy had his gun prepared, he wouldn’t last too long. He pocketed his tablet in an instant and shot a couple of men down.

Y/N made the risk of running back into the fray to pull Kakyoin out of the line of fire. However, in the process of doing so, two bullets grazed her thigh and bicep, causing her to grunt in pain. “Shit! What the hell were you doing just standing there, you idiot?!”

Still on the run and frantic, the assistant reached for his phone to call for the men to return immediately, emphasizing the injury of his companion.

They ducked into the many lines of trees and hid themselves in a small cave hidden underneath moss-covered rocks and shrubs. “If your call did make it through and we keep quiet here, then we’ll make it out here alive.”

“Why’d you save me? You were already out of danger’s reach.”

She stared at him, stunned as if he spoke a different language. “Are you kidding? Don’t you know how mafia rules work? And I’m saying this as someone who’s newer to the clan.” She rose an arm to swat him, but forgot about her wound that she hissed in pain. “No one leaves brethren behind.”

Kakyoin pulled out a handkerchief to temporarily bandage the wounded spot. Y/N offered her own to deal with the one on her thigh. Just then, he let out a silent chuckle and she stared at him with confusion. “You’re right. I get too invested in my job too much that I tend to forget the most common of senses.”

She rolled her eyes with a disbelieving smile. “You sir are indeed an idiot.”

Beyond their small hideout, multiple rounds of gunfire rang throughout the forest together with the panicked screams of the attackers. “You’re gonna tell this to the boss, aren’t you?”

His acquaintance leaned on her good arm and responded with a cheeky smile.

Naturally, months of working together would eventually lead the once-hostile investigator to befriend his tightly-knit circle through violent yet worthwhile experiences. But Jotaro had also expected that organic growth of kinship to extend farther, stretching from his three personal guards to him directly.

Her ability to quickly adapt in any environment and headstrong personality were two factors that could penetrate through the Sangyosei leader’s intimidating aura. That was one thing… her providing insightful strategies and actively hanging out with him knowing he’s one of the country’s dangerous underground leaders were another.

And Jotaro, for the first time in his clan leader life, didn’t know how to respond to the woman’s clever approaches except with appalled intrigue.

“And if we turn to this side of the Hokkaido prefecture, there’s a gap here that will allow us entry to the Lotus gang’s hideout, and if we’re lucky, we’ll get some intel about the Kyuketsuki and their true motives.”

“But I see a slight problem in the plan and it has to do with the crowds we’re dealing with,” she said as she showed Jotaro the printed images of several people bearing lotus and/or blood-fang tattoos, standing guard or in the motion of surveying the area.

“These just came in from your men scouting the area and knowing the gang’s leader’s history of mischief and traps, they pretend to be unprepared to lure in prey.” Y/N said. “And who knows if they have goons on standby inside potential loot locations.”

“What do you suggest then?”

“We play the counter bait.” She reached for a pen and traced a circle on the area highlighting the gang’s main entrance. “If there’s another fact I’ve learned from the guy, he’s an addict to a good gambling game, and once he’s in, he’s in it to win it. Get one or two of your associates to deal a bet against his team and a distraction is set.”

“You got the head occupied but you’re aware of the guards still surveying the area.”

“That’s what everyone thinks, but I’ve studied his patterns long enough to know that once he’s in the middle of a game, he calls in everyone to watch the game in the main arena, because his pride is what fuels him, more so when he doesn’t have a single loss in his track record.”

She introduced three pairs of photos on top, all depicting a raving event featuring the gang’s leader and his cronies and empty pathways at the same time. “I’d know because it has happened thrice.”

“Even if he did leave some men on guard, it’ll be less and we’ll have enough workforce to take them down with the handy silencer equipped.” Y/N tilted her head, a finger under her chin. “Then we can ambush the remaining men from the shadows and capture the Lotus gang leader for info about the Kyuketsuki clan.”

Jotaro didn’t supply anything in return, speechless. Y/N turned to him with one raised brow. “What?”

“You are… very knowledgeable about a gangster mob that’s known to be discreet from the public.”

“Well you forget that I worked as private investigator for multiple clients. Nearly half of their complaints described the details of the same man you are targeting for. Call it a stroke of luck that you got me here now or else you guys would be in one hell of a night.”

And she did not disappoint. Her strategy was what earned Jotaro and his men a successful finish to a mission as his guards took the enemy crowd by surprise and shot them all down before they could launch a counterattack. Their leader, who was drunk with material wins and alcohol, was caught in the middle of his escape.

The bastard did spill intel about the bloodsucking yakuza, but he shared a bit more information than what Jotaro had initially expected.

“All you fucks searching for those leeches when there’s a bigger threat than that clan of his,” the Lotus leader said with his arms bound behind him on a chair. “Kyuketsuki this, Kyuketsuki that. I teamed up with them in the first place because I need to stay safe against the impending conquest of the Seiikigumi.”

“The Seiikigumi?” Jotaro asked, curious.

“Those guys are the real deal. Multiple mob houses and a clans have either fallen or submitted themselves to the mercy of that organization,” he said. “Scary thing is that no one in this city knows about them but Brando and high-paying info brokers.”

He did remember rumors of the mysterious yakuza clan spreading during his first years as leader, but he never saw any evidence to prove their existence. For all he knew, gangs fall because they were too disorganized and had high chances of getting caught by enforcement. Clans, especially the smaller ones, were disbanded due to insufficiency in human and financial resources.

“The Seiikigumi… I’ve heard of the rumors before,” Y/N muttered, deep in thought. “But people only told me details of them as if it’s a novel. I’ve yet to see a member of that group or their actions for myself.”

“Oh they’re real alright,” the bound man said with a grin. “So you better watch yourselves and be careful to not pry too much, or else the Sangyosei clan will be next on their chopping board.”

“The Lowlife Princess will have you as her next meal.”

Jotaro shot him clean in the head as soon the man started to cackle.

His words retained in his mind all throughout the rest of the day which was foolish for him to do. He had better more practical things to do than to fret about a myth. Yet, he found himself deep in thought in the middle of a meeting.

Eventually, it came to his realization that he was too busy scrounging his memories for any links to the Seiikigumi so he could devise something to prevent them from infiltrating his clan.

“Hey boss.” Jotaro blinked out of his mental thoughts and immediately made eye contact with Y/N standing before him in his office. “I’ve noticed you’ve been preoccupied with something. Is it what the Lotus leader said the other night?”

He sagged back against his chair and rubbed his temple, a mild headache starting to grow. “It’s nonsense but I’m here wondering why some drunk bastard is making me overthink.”

“You know, you’ve been busy lately- well, 24/7 if we’re being honest,” she said with casual tone, leaning against his desk with her back to him. “Have you even took breaks once in a while?”

“I have no time to let loose when anything could happen at any time,” he said. “Right now, I’m waiting for Kakyoin to update me on the whereabouts of the Kyuketsuki’s eyes. They’ve been too quiet recently and it peeves me off.”

“At this rate, you’re going to die from stress.” She turned to look over her shoulder. “How about we book the small, private restaurant nearby and eat? I heard the meals they got there are to your liking.”

Jotaro didn’t reply and instead stared at her with deadpan. Y/N rolled her eyes and lifted a white plastic bag filled with different boxes and cups inside. “Figured you’re gonna decline my every offer, but I insist you eat. You wouldn’t want the Sangyosei to find their boss dead on the floor due to starvation, would you?”

He was about to reject and suggest she share the meals with the other 3, but his guts had to betray him in that exact moment via a small growl. Jotaro closed his eyes in self-disappointment and Y/N smiled, smug as ever. “Chow time leader-nim.”

Starting from that offer to take-out lunch, the clan leader had granted the woman access to his social circle the same he gave to his personal guards. Where it stemmed from simple offers of drinks and food, slowly spiraled into conversations that didn’t involve the underground world, and eventually to flirting- both the subtle ones together with the direct.

That was the thing with her- she knew what she was doing, knew when to balance work and all the other stuff that was out of Jotaro’s field of specialty. One moment she’d assist him with formulating strategies and carry out orders as if it was merely shopping, and the next she’d share the most absurd stories about a client’s dead pet and its relation to a murder case while wasted beside him.

Y/N’s hardworking work ethics and clever planning eventually earned her spot as Jotaro’s right hand with the whole clan agreeing with the choice unanimously.

With her current position, she was able to connect with him more than before as she was able to follow him everywhere with no permission required. It gave her the power to convey approved orders to his men, acted as his advocate to associates wanting security, and watched over training sessions while he was busy with more serious matters.

With her by his side, Jotaro could feel himself getting swayed by her assertive charms and given how it seemed a heavy weight was off his shoulders, he had no complaints.

She’d start making advances that weren’t too subtle towards him- a sultry whisper into his ear, a brush of her hand against his, shared hooded glances, the press of her body against his in tight spaces, the quiet bickering of the two that contained suggestive innuendos-

It was unbearable, though not necessarily in a bad way.

The one that made the tightly-strung tension snap was the night Y/N made the conscious decision to walk into his office, fresh from a nightly sponge dressed in a silk robe while he in a dress shirt and vest. The raven-haired man swept his gaze up and down at her form with an intense look to his gaze, covering his actions with a quick “what are you doing?”

According to her, she came in with urgent news about the immediate sighting and dispatch of Kyuketsuki members making a move of sorts in the Gifu prefecture. At closer inspection, he learned that at that location, Brando kept majority of his weapons in storage, likely also containing maps leading to several more of his undisclosed bases.

If it were any other day, he would take note of the report and dismiss the reporter, but he kept her in the room longer than what should be.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you going to send me to my quarters, boss?” Y/N said while she had the gall to cross her arms under the swell of her breasts.

Jotaro stood with furrowed brows, never cutting eye contact as he walked to her in an almost predatory way. “Do you think what you’re doing is funny?”

The closer he got to her, she walked back until she found herself against the wall. “What exactly am I doing boss-nim?” She tilted her head up to face the frustrated clan leader and narrowed her eyes as if to challenge him. “Am I annoying you greatly?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. You know exactly what you’ve been doing and you’re right-” He slammed his hand on the space beside her head. “You’re driving me crazy, you vixen.”

Y/N scoffed, lips curling into a coy smile as her fingers threaded over the buttons of his vest. “Is that so? Why don’t you fire me then?” She purred. “Send me back to the world above the underground where I can expose your plot to the public?”

He clicked his tongue and leaned forward until his voice came out as a growl into her ears. “I’d be damned if I do such a thing.”

“So what are you gonna do, hm?” She whispered.

“I’ll make you shut up the way you like it.”

In the darkness lit only by the light of the full moon, Jotaro had her pressed up against the wall, robe cast aside as he fucked her with vigor, releasing all his pent up stress that accumulated throughout the times she teased him. Y/N whined and cried with every harsh pound of his hips against hers, every inch of her shivering from the intensity of it all.

Once she came, Jotaro flipped her around to let her face him as he lifted her up and thrusted back into her warmth with no hesitation. Y/N tossed her head back and moaned a loud cry, hands grasping his dress shirt with desperation. With her chest bouncing in front of him, he took the opportunity to bite and suckle on the hardened bud, prompting a second orgasm out of you.

He railed her to oblivion to no ends, carrying her over to his office desk only to fuck her over it with the same stamina as the first round. She gasped, breathless as her body rocked back and forth against the smooth surface of his table.

By the time her third orgasm hit her, Y/N still found herself on her back on the same furniture, unable to focus her vision and control herself from drooling at the overstimulation of Jotaro’s rough thrusts.

He never gave her the time to breathe, irritation still bubbling in him. As soon as she came yet again, he maneuvered both of them to his chair, where he planted Y/N on his lap, fucking up into her hear and letting you ride and bounce on cock.

Her body started to grow weary but her moans and cries were still loud as ever, addressing his title with every stimulated cry. Even at that, Jotaro grew annoyed. He wanted her to shout his name.

And so, the second she tightened around him for the fifth time, he held her close to him and pressed the tip of his nose into her neck, trailing it up until his lips grazed the shell of her ear. Raspy from his nonstop grunts, he muttered. “Beg.”

Y/N croaked out her words with unfocused, glassy eyes and a foggy mind resulting from the brutal poundings. “P-Please… boss-”

“Jotaro,” he whispered into her ear, emphasized with a slow yet deep roll of his cock against her walls. “I want you to cry out that name every time I fuck you.” Just like that, he suddenly bucked his hips upward, eliciting a ravishing cry out her reddened lips, one that only bore his name.

As his own release drew closer, his pace turned erratic and his thrusts increased in both speed and intensity, but to hear this woman plea his name over and over again just as she’s told was gratifying for the yakuza leader.

Wringing out one last orgasm out of her, Y/N jerked and let out a silent scream, a stream of clear liquid gushing out of her hole the same time Jotaro groaned and stiffened, feeling his release shoot into her soaked and loosened pussy.

Damn. He was exhausted.

Jotaro panted, sweat beading down his body as Y/N’s sweat-slicked body lay limp against his torso, feeling fluids leaking down his cock and seeping into the fabric of his slacks.

He turned to look at her to check on her current condition. She passed out from their wild escapade, cheeks flushed, panting with ragged breaths with stray hair plastered on her forehead from sweat. Her arms hung over his shoulders, no longer clawing lines onto his shirt.

Strangely enough, he was compelled to brush the hair off her forehead and plant a soft kiss on the area, before lifting her ass up to free his softened cock and arranging her body into a bridal hold to carry her over to his bedroom.

Ever since that night, no words were needed to convey that Jotaro’s relationship with Y/N became more than just simply that of “boss-guard”. They grew addicted to each other, craving that intimacy every moment it was just them in the comforts of closed doors. They would spend time in private establishments to plot, chat, eat, drink, and fuck.

Eventually, she wanted more. She wanted to claim his heart and so brazenly expressed her desires to him. And who’s he to decline her temptations at this point? Y/N was perfect in every aspect- a strategist, communicator, soldier, leader. Why would he refuse someone possessing those talents?

Just as she yearned for him, he gave into her allure, letting this woman become his queen.

But was it for the best?

Months after they had made it official, Jotaro decided to make a move to infiltrate one of the Kyuketsuki’s buildings in Gifu. Everyone in his circle had gathered around to discuss matters of the task, devised multiple plans on how to raid Brando’s precious armory.

Once all was clear and a plausible map of operations were made, he and a selected group of men chosen by Y/N, traveled to the marked location. Avdol had volunteered to join the venture as to provide extra security for his boss, while Kakyoin and Polnareff stayed behind to watch over for him.

It took them a while to get there, considering the distance between Tokyo and Gifu was fairly long. If it weren’t for the pathways formed exclusively for illegal transport, he wouldn’t be able to make it in time to weaken Dio’s forces, causing double repercussions for the territory he left without his watch.

But Jotaro reached the Kyuketsuki’s armory by nightfall and set everything into motion. He stationed his guards in their planned positions, with Avdol leading half of them to stay put in the shadows to serve as Jotaro’s eyes and keep watch of reinforcement, while he and Y/N lead the other half into the building, fully armed and cautious.

They crept through the darkened hallways that were eerily too quiet for a building supposedly filled with lackeys who often indulged in casual games and alcohol. “Boss,” Jotaro glanced at Y/N. “The firearms are found in the hangar in the left wing, but the documents and maps are kept in the right where the offices are located. Do you wish for me to help in retrieving the guns or-”

“I’ll lead the looting. You focus on giving me the paperwork,” he said. “Remember to keep an eye out. Who knows where they’re hiding.” She nodded once and split from the group at the next intersection between the two wings.

Something’s off. Why is no one here? Even as he first arrived, all the building’s lights were off. Not a single fluorescent lamp shining through a window, a lamp from a nearby shed, nothing. No goons were roaming around either, the footsteps of a patrol was non-existent. A chill crept up his spine. This is wrong. What happened?

As someone who’s been bested twice by him, Dio should have placed numerous men around his goods just as he always did to ensure nothing else would be stolen to maintain whatever pride he still had in him. But where were they?

The silence persisted even as he and his men reached the door to the hangar, kept shut with a low-security padlock tied to a chain. Jotaro pulled out his revolver and with a silencer equipped, he aimed and gave two shots before it gave away and fell. He cocked his head to motion his guards to remove the chains and push the door open.

True to the report, what he looked for were waiting for him to grab with crates of firearm stacked on top of each other lay inside while other miscellaneous items such as makeshift bombs and melee weapons lie on shelves. If he looked closer, he could spot a huge safe tucked in a dark corner where cash meant for the lackeys lay inside.

He should be relieved that he didn’t have to spare himself the extra trouble of fighting against a couple of gangsters to retrieve several guns, but he wasn’t because he knew this situation was too unusual and easy for his liking.

Unless-

The door clicked shut behind him and Jotaro spun just as he realized the reality he found himself in. He walked into a trap, but he was a second too late. A hard blow to his head sent him to the ground, warmth leaking out from where the pain came from. He bled from the impact.

He gritted his teeth and attempted to get up only for men, his men, to force him still on the ground, pulling out a white fabric to stuff his face into. Are you fucking kidding me? Jotaro was pinned to the floor, getting chloroformed by his guards.

The last thoughts that circulated his mind before falling unconscious was Y/N. She was caught in this as well and now she’ll be taken captive if she ended up unlucky as he was.

He should have seen this coming.

But why couldn’t he?

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

When Jotaro came to, he was bound in a rather… explicit way that he considered too vulgar for his taste.

He was on his knees, his whole body tied with red rope in a series of complicated knots. It was fortunate that his clothes were still on him or might as well shoot him where he knelt. Above him, a single low-hanging light was the only source of illumination this dark room had. Around him were people surrounding him with sub-machine guns in hand.

And out of the light, a lone figure stood in the shadows with two men standing guard beside them.

He squinted and tried to make out who it was. Dio Brando? Or some other lucky fucker who got a yakuza leader trapped? As a means of verification, he gritted out. “You’re being a coward now? Step out of the dark and face me, Dio.”

“Dio? Oh sweetheart, you couldn’t be more farther than the truth~”

Jotaro stilled, eyes widening and all air leaving his lungs at the familiar voice chirping at him. It was as if a cold bucket of ice had poured over him in an instant. It couldn’t be. How… How did… “Oh damn. I spoke to soon. Literally. But since I’m outed at this point, might as well not be a coward.”

The shadowed figure slowly stalked forward, revealing a woman dressed in a finely-pressed black suit ensemble fused with a black-laced sleeves and posterior half of a lace skirt trailing behind her, and with the culprit under the spotlight, he could see the wide almost excited smirk carved on her face.

“Y/N…”

“The one and only darling.”

He couldn’t fathom how he’s still able to keep it together at the revelation that the woman he saved that night, who served him to no ends for years, who became his lover, ultimately was the woman who would be his downfall. “Oh and you don’t need to worry about Avdol. I already sent them back to HQ, informing him that for investigative purposes, our half of the group had to stay behind a bit longer. And he listened with obedience.”

Jotaro felt a range of negative emotions boiling within him due to the most insulting betrayal he had throughout his life as a clan leader- anger, confusion, surprise, humiliation, hurt. “Explain yourself. There’s no point in talking about anything else now, is there?”

She hummed. “Might as well. Though there’s a lot of stuff I have to dump on you in one sitting unless you want-”

“Just get on with it, bitch.” He spat out, eliciting a delightful “oh?” from the other.

“Reaching curse words now are we? Alright, I’ll start from the beginning until where we are right now then.”

Everything started the night the imports from Italy arrived. With her associates, 80% of the civilians living in his turf, lurking in plain sight serving as her eyes, had updated her constantly on Jotaro’s every move. The same individuals who had sought his clan out for security.

The lackeys that Dio sent in an attempt to steal his weapons were all dealt by Y/N’s men who she called “wraiths”- silent and hidden only to strike at the right moment. The leech’s goons were all taken out by her snipers from the comforts of their undisclosed positions before they could reach the docks.

At the same time, Y/N had hired a group of drunk men she found in the streets, promised them she’d pay them for playing the part of assaulter, only for the promise to be in vain with them ending up dead.

The ID and badge that proved her "profession" as part of law enforcement were fabrications to sell her persona, but her combat skills and her way of handling weapons were very much true. Getting involved with the ruthless underground world would require one to possess at least one of those things.

Throughout her time working as one of his pawns, Y/N would do her job diligently, too diligent to the point where she was able to sneak through his and his men’s watch and kept contact with hers, updating them on new tasks to do that aided her and by proxy, the Sangyosei and she was able to do this without causing suspicion.

The strategies she had formulated were all due to her constant exposure to other clans and mob houses, studying their patterns, way of living, connections, and how their operations worked to find the one loop hole in order to flush her targets down the drain of defeat.

The photos she had presented him all this time, photos of which were high in definition and close to the target, where taken from her wraiths, not his men. How they knew where they were? Turned out she had eyes everywhere- a waiter serving meals, a mother and her child by the swings, a farmer in the fields, a ship captain or his crew members, a passing businessman, a politician’s bodyguard.

She had majority of the population in her grasp.

While they worked externally, Y/N did her part from the inside. She climbed up the ranks until she landed into a position where she shared power that equated to his. With new acquisition of power, she now had control over his men, sending a handful or two out to an empty mission only for them to get gunned down, replaced with wraiths disguised in their clothes.

The same wraiths who accompanied Jotaro to the hangar.

And of the Kyuketsuki’s lackeys who were supposed to watch over the armory? Y/N had them dealt with just as the time during the first day they met, their bodies disposed onto a nearby lake, leaving the building devoid of life.

“Now we’re here with you tied up under my mercy,” Y/N drawled out.

“You’ve got loads of conniving bullshit planned out admittedly well for a leader of a small yakuza clan,” he responded with a glare. “Must be tiring for your so-called wraiths to do so much just to do this.”

At that, Y/N tried to stifle it in but failed to keep the laughter from escaping. “Small? Do you really think my crew is just some fiery underdogs who knows what we’re doing?” This time, the wraiths in the dark laughed after her. “You’ve complimented me then insulted me, oh how do I process this?”

“Who the fuck are you then to spit this much confidence to my face?”

Y/N stopped her sadistic glee and faced him with sudden stoicism. She drew a few steps closer and grabbed his chin, making sure he’s facing her head-on as she sat on her heels and said.

“You’re here with the Seiikigumi darling,” she purred, tilting her head with a growing smile. “Lead by none other but yours truly, the Lowlife Princess.”

All this time… The myth spread around the underground about a mysterious clan taking down multiple others before him. The men skilled enough to not be caught by enemies. The leader responsible for running such business. Everything was bared open for Jotaro to experience first hand as their next target.

To that, he cursed to himself for being foolish to trust a random stranger pleading for help.

“As you’ve may or may not known, I’m notorious for shutting down clans as I please by first killing the boss and either letting loose a mass ambush to every known location where their men are or have them join my side… but-” She cupped his cheeks and held them dear. “You may be my first exception~”

“Just shoot me now and spare yourself the effort,” Jotaro hissed but she paid no attention and shushed him.

“Listen to what I have to say darling~” Y/N said with a pout. “Unlike the other fleabags I had to be with, you’re different. You’re competent, stoic, rich, intelligent, and above anything else, pretty handsome for a yakuza boss. Plus, your personal men were so lovely to be with. I’d hate for them to be killed from the get-go.”

“How about you swear loyalty to me and you get to keep the Sangyosei alive and running? You head back as if nothing happened and do what you do, but to imagine you leading your troops with me as your right hand knowing that you're actually mine to control?” She sighed. “Oh it would be such a waste if I were to do what you just said. I do like having my trophy be shiny with power.”

Jotaro growled. “In your fucking dreams.”

Y/N scoffed, standing back up to step back and pull something out from her pocket. “Of course, I’d expect you to be defiant. I know you too well.” She raised her hand to reveal a button. “Standard protocol for stubborn prisoners is usually torture with the usual go-to stabbing, breaking of fingers and/or toes, and other forms of prolonged physical pain.”

“But since I hold you to a higher regard than the previous victims I’ve kept hostage, I have a different form of torture for you~” She gestured for one of her wraiths to gag his mouth with fabric. “Consider yourself lucky~”

With a press of her thumb on the device, Jotaro widened his eyes as his hips jerked and back arched, letting out a strained groan as something stuck to his cock and nipples started to vibrate with much intensity, and he couldn’t do anything about it with his arms and legs stuck in a compromising position.

“I very much enjoyed the nights where you fucked me so hard I couldn’t think straight. Truly, an experience I’d love to be in again. So in your honor, you get to feel what I’ve felt during those times for the whole night.” She pressed the button and his muscles relaxed, sighing with relief.

Y/N slid the gag off his mouth for a moment and said, “So? Will I expect your compliance by dawn, Jotaro-ssi?”

His body still felt the lingering sensations from where the devices were taped on him and he’d expect worse to come, but he wouldn’t back down. He was better than to give his dignity away to a traitor who more or less, deserved to get killed by his rules.

Jotaro responded with a smug smirk, letting her know he’ll indeed be different than her past captives. “Go fuck yourself.”

And just like the first time she stepped into his office, she tongued the inside of her cheek and ordered for the gag to return to his mouth. She turned on her heels, pressing the button to the highest level, causing him to grunt and quiver from the overwhelming sensation of the vibrations.

The door opened for her to step through, but she paused to say one last thing, looking over her shoulder. “I’ll have you know that you’re being recorded as well. Knowing you’re a man with dignity, it be awful for everyone to know how the leader of the dangerous Sangyosei clan is tied like this, captured and shaking. Just something to consider.”

He locked into her gaze with a deathly glare.

“Though I’m proud of my title,” she smirked. “I’m glad you made me the Queen, and you only have yourself to blame.”

And the door closed shut.

[seehowsupplethespineis]

Fury in the Silence

(This was originally going to be for Megop Week but at some point I realized I’d totally forgotten the prompt I was going for, so here’s a plain-old Megop fic several weeks late from when I meant to post it. Whoops.)

(Warnings: Unjust imprisonment)

The buzz of the prison bars grew steadily more irritating. Aside from the constant hum of those energy beams, all was silent within the cell. From afar, occasional outraged shouts could be heard. A few of the voices sounded familiar to Megatronus, and his face twisted in a proud smirk. He resolved that those who spoke loudest would receive his commendation later. Straining his audial receptors, he sought out one particular voice. It was a quiet voice, so it was very likely to be drowned out. When he didn’t hear it, Megatronus didn’t know whether to be relieved or not. Pacing in his cell, he tried to calculate his next move. The incessant buzz of the prison bars sabotaged this attempt, however, and he snarled his frustration to the lonely cell.

As leader of the rebellion, Megatronus had been separated from his forces and isolated in a private cell. He would have been flattered if he wasn’t so peeved. It wasn’t so much his arrest that troubled him; he’d expected this for some time, and his public protest had made it reality. It had been a peaceful protest, though- a demonstration to call attention to lower class injustices. That was what made Megatronus so mad. If he was going to be arrested, let it be justified. Let it be because he well and truly crossed a line. Let it be-

“Megatronus!”

A low yet urgent voice called out to him. If it had been anyone else, the disruption would have infuriated the gladiator. But it was the voice he’d been listening for. He’d come.

“Orion.”

The prison guard who’d let the archivist in voiced a warning, but Orion Pax utterly ignored him as he darted over to the prison bars. His wide, blue optics studied Megatronus, a frown creasing his face.

“Are you alright?” he asked urgently, “Were you injured in any way?”

The concern cooled some of the fire in Megatronus’s spark. Stepping into the dim light cast by the prison bars and the light fixtures above, he nodded once.

“I am unhurt.”

His tone was guarded and impassive, though only because there was an outsider present. Orion knew this and turned to the guard.

“Is there any chance we can speak in private?”

An incredulous huff met his words, “Not going to happen.”

Orion’s brows drew together at the dismissive tone. They relaxed when Megatronus addressed him again.

“Orion, what are you doing here?” He couldn’t say he wasn’t relieved to see the archivist. He hadn’t known what became of him when the rebels had been rounded up, hence why he’d listened for his voice among the other prisoners. Still, he wished Orion had stayed away. This wasn’t a safe place for Megatronus’s supporters. If he disclosed too much, the guard would very likely throw him in a cell, too.

“I had to ensure you were safe,” Orion responded. The blue of his optics intensified in the glow of the prison bars, “I was unable to find you when-”

“As I have already told you, I am fine.”

At Megatronus’s interruption, Orion clammed up. If he sensed he’d been about to reveal too much, he didn’t appear concerned, only continuing to stare at Megatronus with a resolute expression. It was the stubborn face Megatronus had come to adore- the one that told the world this little archivist was unafraid to speak his mind. Right now, though, the gladiator wished Orion would stand down for once.

Orion Pax…Megatronus resisted a sigh, What am I to do with you?

He realized he’d drawn closer to the prison bars as they spoke. If he moved half a step further, he’d be burnt. On the other side, Orion had pressed as close to the bars as he could.

So little distance between them, yet out of reach all the same.

Orion’s gaze flickered over Megatronus, who remained impassive despite the rapid pounding in his spark. At last, Orion tore his gaze away to face the prison guard.

“How long until he and the others are released?”

The guard shrugged, “How should I know?”

Megatronus resisted another snarl. Thankfully, Orion was much calmer.

“Who can I ask for this information?”

“My superiors.”

“Where can I find them?”

“You can’t,” the guard answered firmly, “They don’t like to be disturbed.”

From his angle, Megatronus couldn’t see Orion’s face, though he knew it had set in a dangerously stubborn line, “They will have to make an exception.”

“Orion-” Megatronus began warily.

“Megatronus,” Orion responded in a tone clearly meant to convey “Let me handle this.”

But how could he? As dedicated as Orion was to Megatronus’s cause, he’d never been in the thick of it before. He was still the sheltered prodigy of Alpha Trion. He had no idea of the trouble he was inviting.

“There is nothing you can do for me,” Megatronus chose his words carefully, “You will do no good by accompanying me into trouble.”

Orion didn’t respond.

“Listen to your friend,” the guard jumped in, “You don’t want to be associated with his kind.”

The words were stated flippantly, without an ounce of regret or shame. Megatronus’s optics blazed. A familiar rage surged in his spark and spread throughout his entire frame. It was all he could do not to let it spill over. He had no idea what he’d do if he did, but for Orion’s sake, he kept it in check. Instead, he clenched his servos firmly behind his back, where they trembled violently.

Orion still didn’t turn to face him. There was tension in his shoulders, though his expression was now unreadable to Megatronus. Still caught up in his own ire, Megatronus was too late to prevent Orion from speaking.

“I already am,” the archivist stated calmly, “I was there at the protest. I am Megatronus’s most loyal supporter. You should lock me up as well.”

The guard was taken aback by Orion’s frankness, though not nearly as much as Megatronus was. His spark squeezed and suddenly burst back to life as he drew as close to the bars as he could, feeling the lasers singe his chest and face.

“Orion!” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“Megatronus,” Orion replied smoothly.

Once the guard had recovered himself, he gestured toward the door, vague confusion still painted on his face.

“Follow me...”

Orion nodded once and accompanied the guard out the door, leaving Megatronus in agony behind them. He wanted to shout after Orion but knew that, yet again, his words were useless. Once the door was shut, Megatronus couldn’t hold back anymore. He slammed a fist into the wall of his cell. It didn’t leave a mark. The walls were thick.

A roar of outrage surged from his voice box as he struck the wall again and again. He felt his digits crack and pain lance through his servos but he didn’t care. He just needed to leave a dent. Just one dent to prove that even if his voice was powerless, his fists weren’t.

When he at last recoiled, taking two shaky steps back, there was a dent. It was small - too small - but Megatronus couldn’t muster the energy to continue. He was exhausted, though his fatigue felt more emotional than physical. He collapsed onto the bench at the far end of the cell and held his face in his servos, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

The prison bars continued to hum.

Eventually, the door opened again. Silence suddenly permeated the cell. The hum had stopped.

“No room in the other cells. Play nice, you two,” The same guard of before spoke, a note of trepidation in his voice. The hum resumed not long after. At last, Megatronus summoned the will to look up.

Orion stood before him, now sealed behind the bars with him. After a moment’s hesitation, he walked over to sit beside Megatronus, who watched him with a detached, indecipherable expression. Orion looked unbothered, however, and regarded his companion with calm resignation and resolve. Unable to stand it, Megatronus let out a long, frustrated sigh.

“Orion…”

“Megatronus.”

Another bout of silence ensued during which Megatronus studied Orion, who remained unflinching- as always. Before Megatronus could even begin to think of what to say, or how to say it, Orion broke the quiet tension.

“Do not be angry with me, Megatronus,” he spoke calmly, though his voice was soft, “I could think of no other solution.”

Now Megatronus knew exactly what to say, “What solution? How do you hope to solve anything while trapped in a cell with me?”

“I am an archivist in the Hall of Records and an apprentice to Alpha Trion. Perhaps my imprisonment will draw attention to the unjust capture of your followers and yourself.”

“Perhaps?” Megatronus almost laughed, but in the end, there was nothing funny about any of this. He drew himself up and turned piercing optics on Orion. Even sitting down, he leered over the archivist

“Who do you think you are, Orion Pax?” he hissed, prison bars glinting off pointed teeth, “You’re nothing- an insignificant little archivist with nothing but Alpha Trion’s favor to your name. You have accomplished nothing. Your sacrifice means nothing. No matter what you do, you will always be nothing!”

On the last “nothing,” something within Megatronus caved. He turned away, gaze burning like the laser beams imprisoning him. He shut his optics.

They opened almost immediately when a gentle servo rested itself on his tightened fist. The touch became more solid as small digits fastened themselves around his hand, effortlessly prying his clawed digits open. The servo then rested itself in his. Reflexively, Megatronus closed his digits carefully around it.

He still didn’t turn back, but Orion spoke all the same.

“I do what I can. That is not nothing,” He gave Megatronus’s servo a squeeze, “You give all that you are. That is not nothing.”

A weighted pause followed his words. Unable to resist, Megatronus turned to him again. A smile graced the archivist’s gentle face. Megatronus was captivated by it. Under the gladiator’s spellbound gaze, Orion drew strength and sat up straighter.

“You have a voice, Megatronus, and it amplifies the voices of those around you. You inspire others to speak up for what is right. I could not have made the decision I did today without your example.”

A small sigh escaped Orion as he glanced down at their conjoined servos, “Maybe it was a foolish choice. Maybe nothing will come of it…But if I did not try, I would be unworthy to stand at your side.”

He didn’t look up when he finished speaking, but kept his gaze trained on their servos. If anyone else had said these words, Megatronus would have assumed they were at best comforting him, at worst attempting to gain favor. But this was Orion, and Orion was the sincerest mech Megatronus had ever known. He was also the naivest.

“Are you willing to remain by my side,” he said at last, “Even if I fall?”

Orion immediately met his gaze, to see two, tormented optics imploring him for a response. The archivist tightened his hold on Megatronus’s servo.

“Until the end,” he vowed, “I am yours.”

Megatronus shut his optics as that grave promise washed over him. When he opened them again, new resolve glinted in their depths. He saw that same resolve reflected in Orion’s optics. The gladiator drew strength from that mirrored gaze.

With Orion Pax by his side, he would tear this world down and stamp on its remains. Together, they would build a new and better Cybertron. No one would dare treat them like nothing ever again.

However long it took - whatever sacrifices had to be made - Megatronus looked forward to it all with a cruel smile.

[swanmaids]

…because they’re running out of time.

Motherly kiss: Elwing, Elros & Elrond

38. because they're running out of time

Elwing's kitchen felt cramped and oppressively warm. Fear, hot and sour, radiated from all six people within - Elwing thought she could almost taste the sweat of the others in the back of her mouth. The little box she held was slippery in her damp hands.

Nobody spoke. Gereth's expression was grim. Idwen, the twins' nurse, was crying silently; rivers of tears and snot running down her crumpling pretty face. Elrond and Elros, who had up until then been so good and quiet, were beginning to fuss and whimper even as all four adults frantically shook their heads and pressed their fingers to their lips. My nurse drugged me, Elwing remembered suddenly, when she took me from Doriath. I should have given the boys something too, to keep them quiet. To give them a chance.

She should have done a lot of things.

Outside, she could hear the slaughter drawing closer. The clashing of steel and shouting of murderers and innocents alike was still muffled enough to suggest that the bulk of the fighting was still streets away, but it was closing in. She had to send the boys away now.

She was not the only one who thought so. Elemmakil kept glancing towards the door, one hand on his sword hilt. Yes, I know, she thought but did not voice, but let me just have one more minute with them.

What could she say to them, those two perfect little boys? She looked then at their soft round faces, their wide dark eyes, and her heart ached. She had no wisdom to impart; she could not even think of a kindly lie.

Elwing was not sure why she could not weep like Idwen. Perhaps there was simply nothing left inside of her.

"Lady Elwing," Elemmakil whispered to her, and she nodded.

"It's time to be very brave now, boys," she told her sons as quietly as she could, and her voice did not waver. "Idwen and Elemmakil are going to take you to the Shrine of Uinen, and you're going to wait there for - a little while. And it's really important that you keep being as quiet as mice while you do. Círdan will come and find you, and you're not to leave for anyone else, no matter what they say. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, mummy," from Elros, always the slightly bolder of the two, even as he clung to Idwen's leg.

"But..." Elrond mumbled, eyes beginning to well up, "aren't you coming with us?"

"I'm sorry, my love," Elwing said, and paused. "I... I very much hope that I can come and find you afterwards. And -" now here was the sob, finally, breaking out of her chest, "I love you both, so very, very much."

Then Idwen passed her Elros, and she cast aside the box and kissed his hot cheek, and tasted the salt of their mingling tears. Elemmakil lifted Elrond into her other arm, and she pressed her lips firmly against the top of his head, feeling his soft dark hair brush her chin. This can't be the last time, she thought, it can't be, it can't be.

Then they left. Elemmakil first, sword drawn, then the boys on foot, holding hands, and then Idwen, armed with a cleaver that Elwing used for butchering chickens.

Elwing and Gereth remained in the kitchen for ten more excruciating minutes as they listened to the fighting draw nearer. Gereth knew her well enough not to offer her empty words. Instead, the Noldo woman simply laid a large hand on her shoulder as the tears finally overwhelmed her.

"I ought to release you from my service," Elwing said at last, "you ought to get yourself to safety."

The woman who had helped her nurse save Elwing from Doriath all those years ago simply scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."

Elwing picked up the box again, and they left the boathouse where Elwing and Eärendil's marriage bed lay, where she had birthed their sons. Gereth drew her sword to guard her back. Elwing raised her voice to shout for her enemy over the chaos, hoping that Elvish hearing would carry her voice. She turned towards the direction of the cliffs, away from Uinen's Shrine, away from her children.

"Hear me now, Sons of Fëanor! I have what you came for!"

She opened the box, and the light of the gem was blinding. Then she began to run.

[sixtypackofcrayola]

Can I request??

Macaque and wukong (seperately) having a tall s/o and they call them shortie and picks them up for them to see what their s/o sees?

Hope that made sense

As you wish !

✰ Macaque and Sun Wukong with a tall S/O ✰

Fandom; LEGO Monkie Kid Character List; Macaque, Sun Wukong Genre(s); Lots o' fluff Pronouns; They/Them TW/CW: None!

Sun Wukong

-Wukong would love a S/O taller than him. He thinks it's a bit funny -And I imagine they're not just taller by a few inches,, I'm talkin' a lot taller. I hc the monkey men to be around 6'5, so imagine his S/O,,,,, damn -Kinda strange because to most people he's pretty tall! And then there's his S/O who towers over him and all of a sudden he feels a little smaller,, not that he's complainin' -"How's the weather up there, sunshine?" of course -And then his S/O picks him up like he weighs almost nothing -"Pff- See for yourself, love" -"You seein' this shit, Wukong?" -The first time he's a little caught off guard, his tail swishing around in surprise. Just a "Wait what???" moment -After that, he kinda starts to like being picked up. Especially if his S/O picks him up bridal style ohu boy -Honestly, he's a bit embarrassed to ask for it when he's thinking abt it-Acts slightly offended when they call him "shortie", because again he's the tall and handsome monkey king and whatnot. but most of the time ends up laughing. -"Hey, most people can only dream of being as tall as me!" -Occasional back and forth of short/tall nicknames -Would probably climb up them himself sometimes. Imagine him just climbing up to give his S/O a kiss on the cheek -Ouu cuddles,, little spoon. Monkey man is touched starved, so having someone bigger than him to hold him close makes him feel weirdly safe. He's usually doin' the protecting. He'll wrap his tail around his S/O's leg and just relax,,

Macaque

-If you make fun of him, he'll make fun of you. He and Wukong are similar in the way that they'll both come up with something else to call their S/O. Lighthearded teasing between the both of em. -Would call them "short stuff" for the irony and snort at their slightly confused face -First time he was picked up by his S/O he was also taken aback. It was kinda out of nowhere just to tease him a bit -"Pf- Alright, very funny-" -Pick him up bridal style, and if you squint you can see him blush -Kinda likes being picked up, not as much as Wukong but still, he likes it a bit -Wouldn't ask for it either, but if he seems grumpy and if his S/O were to pick him up n hold him, he might cool down a bit. He likes their touch in general, so he doesn't mind all that much -Don't do it while anyone's watching though -Cuddle hc once again, kinda felt weird being the smaller one and being held. He's never been held before. It's a nice feeling he didn't realize he needed. Macaque's been thrown out, cast aside, and to have someone actively bring him in,, Another touch starved monkey. -He's hesitant, but after a while ends up purposefully curling up next to his S/O and letting them embrace him fully. It's hard for him to fall asleep most of the time, but this makes it easier -Asks his S/O to come down to his level to kiss them -Show off the giant shadow monkey form to compare to them -"Nowww who's taller, huh?" -I keep thinking "smaller, very dangerous/much taller, less dangerous" and if you didn't know em it'd seem like S/O would be the one to punch the shit out of an enemy but nope, their smaller monkey bf is punting that bitch into the sun without breaking a sweat -S/O trapping him in a big hug to be like "haha who's stronger now" -Again, it felt strange to be the smaller one. Not in a bad way. But he don't mind one bit.

( Fin. ~ ✰ ) A/N; thank you for the request ! ive barely written for these two im so sorry if its ooc </3 feels nice to write for them tho i love the silly monkey guys

[veliseraptor]

Top five WIP excerpts

this is just because i wasn't doing a wip meme instead of a top five meme isn't it

1. from Life After Death: “I’m so tired of death,” Xingchen said, his voice wobbling. “I’m so tired of it. You, and a-Qing, and then Xue Yang, and I did nothing to deserve you and a-Qing back, and I never looked for…but he’s here and I can’t stand the thought of losing him. All my struggling, all my searching for answers and closure, everything I ever said about justice, and that’s what it comes down to.” He bowed his head lower. “Xue Yang dying would rip something out of my heart that I can’t bear to lose. Not now.”

Song Lan let out a slow exhale. :I know,: he said again.

“I’m sorry,” Xingchen said.

:Xingchen,: Song Lan said, :I’ve known that, or something near it, since I made the decision to bring him back to life.: He swallowed hard. :You loved him.:

“I don’t want to,” Xingchen said, “but I don’t know how to stop.”

2. from the devil drives: “Bringing a full complement of bodyguards would be too conspicuous,” said Khun Kinn. Khun Vegas smiled and Pete thought oh no. 

“I agree,” he said. “But there is room for a plus one. He knows my staff, and most of your bodyguards, but an unfamiliar face…” Khun Vegas’s eyes drifted very slightly in Porsche’s direction before moving back to Khun Kinn. 

Oh, no, Pete thought again, but with a little more despair this time.

“Take Pete,” Khun Kinn said.

Vegas’s gaze swept to Pete, flicked slowly over him from head to toe. “Isn’t he one of Tankhun’s?” he said. “He won’t be thrilled that you’re loaning out his bodyguard to me.”

“That’s not your problem.”

“Considering Tankhun,” Vegas said, “it actually might end up being my problem.” 

“Pete doesn’t go out as much as some of the other guards,” Kinn said, “so he’s less recognizable. I’m offering you one of our best. Pete’s competent, observant, and I trust him completely.”

Pete might’ve been more flattered if he hadn’t been very aware that he was getting thrown this first and foremost so that Vegas didn’t take Porsche and only secondarily because Kinn trusted him.

3. from post-canon vegaspete long(er) fic: “Let me get you some painkillers?” Pete said.

“I’ll get them myself,” Vegas snapped, but of course he still had to put his clothes back on, which was an ordeal all on its own when he was already like this. He ended up sitting on the toilet with his head down to control the dizziness, fighting back tears of frustration and anger. Pete fled (“I’m going to get you some painkillers,” he said, this time not a question) and Vegas sat there marinating in rancid self-loathing until he came back. 

He took the pills in silence and didn’t look at Pete hovering and radiating anxiety. He bit down on the urge to snap at him hard enough to taste blood and felt like a monster. 

A sexually frustrated monster. 

4. from et ipsi sunt jacula: “Your wound,” Gabriel said, removing his hands, “needs tending.” 

“And you, with your healer’s hands,” Lymond said. “Ille more suo victus pietate, nec sordes cavit, nec fetorum exhorruit.”

“I make no claims to the miraculous,” Gabriel said. “But such things come first and foremost to the faithful.”

“Accept Christ,” Lymond said, “and my deformities shall disappear. Deny him, and I am cast out of the body public. Is that it?” 

Gabriel knelt, beginning to remove the dressings. “You cast out yourself,” he said mildly. “If you refer to your convalescence…I am given to understand it is exhaustion and overwork that brought on your collapse. You drive yourself hard, my dear.” 

“I do what I must,” said Lymond. “Should I let my opponent set the pace, instead?” 

“Your opponent,” Gabriel said, setting the soiled bandages aside. Lymond made no move to pull away, head turned just slightly to retain view of him as he examined the wound, livid and angry. “Your metaphors are all of war.” He paused, leveling a clear gaze at Lymond. “Is it any surprise there should be casualties, when such is your approach?” 

“You made it so,” Lymond said, suddenly blunt. 

“Did I?” Gabriel asked, smiling very slightly. “From the beginning you greeted me with nothing but hostility. You decided that I was your enemy and have proven unshakeable in that conviction, for all I did to prove I have nothing but your best interests at heart.”

Lymond’s laugh was sharp as a blade. “My best interests, and Scotland’s too?”

5. from Redux: “Let’s watch something,” Xiao Xingchen said. “You can choose. I’ve–” he swallowed hard. “I’ve missed you.” 

“Yeah,” Xue Yang mumbled after another brief silence. “Same here.” He huffed a weak laugh. “Look what you’ve done to me. Made me a sap like you.” 

Xiao Xingchen pulled back just enough to kiss him on the forehead, making Xue Yang wrinkle his nose, and said, “there are worse things to be.” 

“Probably I’m some of those too,” Xue Yang said with a too-quick smile, but Xiao Xingchen let it pass, steering them over to the couch. Xue Yang fell asleep with his head on Xiao Xingchen’s shoulder within a few minutes, and shortly after slid down further to be curled up with his head on Xiao Xingchen’s lap instead. Xiao Xingchen’s chest ached with fondness.

At the same time, something tickled at the back of his mind, an uneasy twinge like he’d forgotten something important, and at the same time it was something he didn’t want to know.

[ajaxpilled]

do you have any headcanos for childe? I'm imagining him all shivery and sick right now 😈😈😋😋😋😋

ohh im always so torn on this

whether he would push through it and keep working despite all his symptoms, illness cast aside in favour of other priorities; or if he'd stop and rest and look after himself like he's looking after a weapon and not because he deserves to feel well

he'd probably particularly miss his mother and family during times of illness. the hot chocolate she would make him with a dash of whiskey to keep him warm as a kid, the comforting smell of woollen blankets, the potato and cabbage soup she would bring him and how she would worry over him. the jealousy over the sounds of his siblings playing by the fire or getting ready to go fishing. he misses when people cared for him and not just what he can do, what he can provide. but he's not a kid anymore. there's nobody else in his house anymore - to look after him or to be envious of.

until zhongli;

who frowns and holds a hand to childe's forehead, which is damp and radiating all too much heat for how his limbs shiver and his fingers tremble. he asks him why he's up at the crack of dawn, and childe just looks at him with utterly confused, watery eyes, with a pale face illuminating his freckles even more, with a red nose and messy hair falling into his face, and points out with a quiet, tired voice that he gets up early every day, doesn't he? zhongli asks but why today, why when you aren't feeling well, and tells him to get back into bed immediately. acts as though washing his face and "getting through it" is the most ludicrous idea he's ever heard.

after a few weak protests, childe gives up. his head is fuzzy and his limbs are heavy and he all but collapses back into bed, barely has the energy to peel his clothes back off or keep his eyes open - the bed is still warm. a hand cards through his hair a few minutes later, waking him to take some medicine before he falls too deeply into his slumber. and as he sleeps on and off throughout the days, he's brought hot tea with honey and patterned quilts. he's brought lotus seed and chicken soup with plain dumplings and rice porridge, warm and filling but easy on his delicate stomach and decreased appetite. zhongli checks his temperature with the back of his hand, brushes his hair out of his face and smiles fondly at how childe screws his face up childishly when he gives him bitter medicine.

for the first time in years, childe remembers what it's like to be looked after. to be vulnerable and give up all your strength and expectations and still be loved. this time, there's nobody to be jealous of. the geo archon stays home from work and reads him books. he helps him write letters home, to show the pretty characters of the liyuen alphabet he has learned in the corner of the page. plays boardgames with him in bed, sitting cross legged on the layers of quilts and deliberating for way too long over his chess pieces. he tells him stories of times long past, holding tissues up to where childe rests his head in his lap whenever he sees the telltale twitch of his reddened nose. kneels beside him and rubs his back when he's hunched over the toilet bowl, shaking and tearing up as he retches. brings him ginger tea to soothe his throat and bathes him afterwards. despite his dislike of sleeping late and wasting the day, he snuggles back into bed with him to let him curl up to his warmth. childe is lulled to sleep with gentle circles being rubbed into his sore stomach, with zhongli quietly rambling about the history of medicine, with his hair absently played with.

it's been a long time since he's let his guard down like this. since he's let himself be vulnerable, or let himself be sick at all. and it's scary - the urge to keep looking over his shoulder, the voice in his head telling him that zhongli is letting him be weak for his own benefit, the emptiness in his hands and at his hips as his weapons lay abandoned for now. he swallows his fear. looks into kind amber eyes, worried eyes, and knows that he would never even think to betray him, never do what childe once did to him. and so he lets himself be looked after, lets himself be cared for, ignores the part of him that wants to tear off his skin or run away and instead leans into the part that thinks this is home, thinks this is better than home, thinks something big and warm and affectionate towards zhongli that he doesn't quite want to put a name on yet.

[purble-turble]

Dark shadowpeach

But imagine Macaque finds all about MK being Wukong’s little human cub. He hears Wukong chirp at him in monkey or groom him after training. So he hatches a plan.

He casts a glamour on Wukong when his guard is down visiting his little home shrine of the pilgrims. Then he sneaks into MK’s home. He unlocks the rest of Wukong’s power in MK turning him into a sort of half monkey demon. Now when MK wakes up on flower fruit with a glamoured Wukong, who is helping the trick along by being incredbly depressed that he has been left behind by nearly everyone he loved, is calling him his son something MK always thought.

MK has a hard time remembering this isn’t really but he has to keep reminding himself. His name is MK. He’s human. He lives in Pigsy’s shop. He is not a monkey demon. His parents are not Wukong and Macaque. He needs to free monkey king and get home.

Nice! Yeah, I recall getting asks along a similar vein ages ago, where Macaque puts some kind of memory spell on Sun Wukong and manages to just keep them both there as his little pretend family. Making MK into a monkey demon and trying to mess with his memories too is fun, though. Maybe MK is able to fight it off and get a better grip on reality better than Monkey King. After all, Macaque has a history with Wukong, and it's possible that deep down the Monkey King kind of wants this to be true, anyway... especially the part about MK being his son. Because, let's face it, Sun Wukong is freakin' lonely up there on his mountain all by himself. He doesn't really have much of a life to go back to aside from MK, so there's no incentive for him to fight this spell off. So his brain just accepts that this is reality, and he doesn't try to fight his way out of the charm.

MK on the other hand knows something is not right.. while having the Monkey King as his dad is pretty awesome, he vaguely remembers that he has ANOTHER dad... not this dark shady monkey, either. He's a pig demon, oh and there's the human with glasses too. He misses them, and he's gotta get back to his real life!

[centaurianthropology]

NY by Night S1E8 ‘Virtue Overthrow’ Recap and Thoughts

And here we are, at the end of a season.  We pause our story with these four vampires for now, and the Camarilla vampires are left with huge shoes to fill, because this cast has been stellar.  This story has been excellent, and it has danced on the edge of disaster for an entire season.  Until tonight, when it all came to a head in an emotional blowout that will have ramifications for this coterie whenever we get to see them again.  Read on after the cut to see my thoughts on this, the season finale of the first season of ‘NY by Night’.

We start with North Brother Island, uninhabited, chosen formerly as a quarantine hospital for severe illnesses.  The Coterie approaches the island at Isaac’s invitation, but something is different about our favorite Tzimisce.  He looks just a little different, specifically he looks like an idealized version of himself.  Fuego uses Unswayable Mind, thinking he’s cast some sort of illusion, as she’s finding him distractingly hot suddenly.  But he doesn’t change.  Whatever has happened is genuine, physical.  

This starts a conversation.  Fuego, fresh off her emotional turmoil of last week, is setting out to clear the air and connect with this, her closest connection to kindred society.  She asks Isaac about his appearance, which leads into her apologizing for being nasty to him the night at the Crescent.  He in turn apologizes for being short with her; he wanted to impress on her the severity of the situation, but doesn’t actually care that she murdered someone.  He more cares that they were sloppy and careless.  She sets aside his general disregard for human life, something she has carefully guarded her own ability to care about, and instead accepts his olive branch, twisted as it is.  After they’ve made up, he fills the coterie in on his mission to find the skull, including his encounter with a Camarilla vamp in Rafferty’s employ.  Fuego reveals that he’s her sire, but she knows very little about him. 

They arrive at the island.  The tone is immediately surreal.  It’s abandoned and ruined, but there are no animals, no birds, no people.  There is nothing except the hidden haven of a single kindred: Isaac’s sire, Vaclav.  Isaac urges them to let Vaclav take the lead in any conversation.  He’s only ever interacted with his sire—who is considerably older than they are—one on one and doesn’t know how they’ll handle other people.  As much as Isaac can be somewhat anxious, he is, because Vaclav is dangerous, and he’s old, an Isaac is walking a pack of volatile baby kindred into his domain.  They spot a light, and Rey makes a Paul Revere joke that only Fuego gets.  He feels old, and we find out that when Isaac said he didn’t finish school, he meant high school.  Isaac is very smart and very articulate, but clearly has huge holes in his education.

They enter the haven, and get their first glimpse of Isaac’s sire.  The haven looks like the 19th century so perfectly that it could be from a movie, and Vaclav himself (he is presenting male at present) awaits them in equally antiquated clothing.  He greets them with courtesy (and a quote from Dracula, which is hilarious and none of them get it, which disappoints him a little, making him immediately more interesting and loveable than I expected him to be).  They all sit down and get refreshments (some suspiciously fresh blood, one imagines from some unfortunate fleshcrafted couch).  Vaclav is courteous and charming, and the coterie, amazingly, manages to be on their best behavior.  Fuego is excited and honestly charmed by Vaclav.  Rey is polite and as even-keeled as he can be.  Serif is the only one who seem to twig that there is a sense of creepiness about this whole thing, that there is something off about this old man, but even she seems to find him charming in spite of herself.  

Isaac reveals that he wanted them to meet Vaclav because they all have poor relations with their own sires, that they have limited information, and no one older except him to help them.  He wanted them to meet his own sire, to see that relations can be good with that sire, even if it’s uncommon, and he wanted them all to see an older vampire who wasn’t openly trying to push them around or use them so they could gain some perspective.

Vaclav is clearly enjoying playing host.  He gets information from these young kindred, yes, but he also just gets visitors, and gets to impart wisdom to the new friends of the childe he is clearly quite proud of.  Isaac and Vaclav have a polite but definitely warm relationship, and Vaclav extends that warmth to Isaac’s coterie-mates.  He invites them to ask him questions.  He has been in torpor for some time, and while he’s been awake for about a decade, he hasn’t entirely adjusted to the new world.  Still, he will answer what questions he can, and he proves to be a wealth of knowledge.    

They discuss the Camarilla, its pros and its cons, and how the Camarilla did not always control New York.  This segues into a discussion about the Sabbat.  Vaclav seems to have been in torpor at the time of the battle, and seems distant from both parties involved.  Alone on his island, Vaclav seems to be avoiding politics, with no close ties to any faction, and so he can judge all of them.  Fuego uses the opportunity to ask why, if the Camarilla need numbers to keep out the Sabbat, they still exclude certain clans. It seems counter-productive.  While there are many possible reasons, the largest is old prejudice.  While Fuego would be welcome, Serif and Isaac would not. 

Serif has her own continued focus, and a seemingly friendly source of information, so she asks how to un-ghoul someone.  She is open with Vaclav about why she wants to know.  She tells him about her mother’s situation, an in turn he offers her honest options: she can kill her mother, turn her into a vampire, or cut her off from blood.  That last option sounds good, but that has one major drawback: the twenty-five years Serif’s mother has been a ghoul will rapidly catch up with her, possibly damaging her permanently.  Serif realizes she has no good options for saving her mother.  Even making her into a vampire is not an easy answer.  Few sires and children get along well, and having it be her own mother that she turns has added complications.

This leads to a new discussion of sires and children.  Fuego admires what Vaclav and Isaac have, but feel that what she has with Rafferty is entirely different.  She barely knows him, but still finds herself loving him to an extent that she feels like something has to be wrong.  It’s too much, not warmth but more.  Vaclav speculates it could be a blood bond, but when Fuego says she only drank from Rafferty once, Vaclav chalks it up to an unusually intense reaction to the embrace, that will likely fade with time and separation.  She intellectually wants this, but emotionally …

Rey also has a question about sires, but his question is more about why certain vampires choose those they embrace.  He wants to know if his sire chose him specifically, or if his embrace could be random chance (that he wasn’t meant to be Gangrel).  Vaclav says there are many reasons to embrace someone, and that any number of reasons could account for Rey’s embrace, or any embrace Rey chooses to give to someone else.  Rey is disappointed, but Vaclav encourages him to realize that the Gangrel have what he calls a ‘desperate power’, that they are often underestimated.  Rey’s weaknesses could be strengths, if he only embraced and harnessed them.  Rey doesn’t react to that, but it may have been the first time someone told him that in such an open way, an it’s definitely the first time someone has implied that he should embrace his power and Rey didn’t immediately snap at them.  It seems like Vaclav even has his respect. 

Serif wonders about the power of the Tzimisce.  If Rey has power, and Fuego has power, and she has power, what exactly do the Tzimisce do?

The anwer, after Isaac beats around the bush a bit, is of course flesh-crafting.  Isaac can now change himself, as he revealed before, and Vaclav adds that more powerful Tzimisce can change others as well.  Fuego covers her shock quickly, asking for wings when Isaac figures that one out, but there is a clear moment of fear.  This is a power none of the others have.  A potentially horrible power, and even vampires as young as they are recognize that. 

The conversation quickly shifts to wights.  Vaclav confirms Isaac’s suspicions about what wights are, and after its revealed that it’s a sabbat project gone wrong, Vaclav gives them more information about why so many Sabbat become wights.  The Sabbat reject their humanity and walk different paths to maintain balance with the beast, but that makes them more vulnerable to losing control and losing themselves.  Those who can’t walk their chosen path become wights. 

Vaclav knows a lot about the Sabbat, not just their external structure, but about the Paths, and about their structure.  He doesn’t say it, barely even implies it, but I have to think he was Sabbat at one point.  However, it also seems that he broke with them long ago enough that the Anarchs don’t mind him, and he is treated as a free agent.

Their conversation draws to a close, and Vaclav offers them all one more question.  Rey asks why the Camarilla want to get rid of unclaimed childer.  Vaclav offers several possibilities, but concludes that the Camarilla are simply short-sighted and prejudiced, and have a lot of old ideas that don’t work as well as they should.  Rey is disappointed, but sometimes these simple answers are the correct ones. 

Serif asks if he met any previous Ravnos.  Vaclav discusses one who was well-traveled, well-read, capricious, intelligent, but dislikable.  Serif asks if it’s Argus, and Vaclav not only confirms that it was, but that her revealing that Argus is alive, has her mother as a ghoul, and sired Serif is important information to him.  So much so that this old vampire offers Serif a boon, which is no small thing in kindred society.  We don’t know why this information is so important, but something tells me that we will eventually find out.

Fuego and Isaac forego a final question.  As thanks for the hospitality, Fuego offers Vaclav a nearly-dead Kindle filled with books.  While Vaclav doesn’t touch the new tech, he of course accepts the gift.  And with that, this meeting—which went shockingly well for this group—ends.  Questions are now answered, there is something going on between Vaclav and Argus that means Serif earned a boon from an elder vampire, and Vaclav actually likes the whole coterie, which is great for all of them, even if their newest, best ally is an elder Tzimisce on a creepy island.

They return to the Bronx to find that Isaac’s vehicle has been run-by tagged. Serif investigates the tagging and finds that it’s a commonly used warning amongst local street-gangs: ‘GET OUT.’ Isaac brushes it off, thinking that it has something to do with his association with the Midnighters.  Serif is less convinced, but they drop it for the moment in favor of a wight-hunt.  They need to take care of that, and fast.

Isaac asks Angela for a knife, and Rey jumps in to tell him not to start cutting bits off himself just because he found that he can alter his body.  Isaac is surprised; he meant the knife for Serif so she can defend herself. Everyone is thrilled that Rey is getting protective of Isaac—a new development and further evidence of their bond—and Rey is just embarrassed. 

Isaac still has Annabelle’s stake as well.  He wants to keep it, of course, but it is prudent to have in a fight with a kindred. Isaac also has his own new abilities, which everyone is slightly horrified by as he mentions altering his bones (there’s also a great dirty pun about bones from Fuego, who is clearly still dealing with the fact that she now finds Isaac hot, and doesn’t quite know what to do with that. It was one of my favorite lines of the night, and delivered with some great comedic timing).

They drive off, trying to locate the wight with Serif’s abilities to sense the beast.  It takes them hours, but they do manage it.  Serif manages to rescue its intended victim, then takes off after it, leaving the others to catch up.  Isaac uses a brief moment to extrude the bone from his forearm to create a blade across his fingers.  The scene is like something out of a horror movie, and both Rey and Fuego are disgusted and fascinated. 

In the meantime, Serif reaches the wight alone.  It easily throws her down, but she comes back at it with the knife.  She fails to get the jump on it, and it tears into her, trying to eat her just as Isaac arrive on the scene.  He gets the first good hit on it, scissoring his bone knives into either side of its neck.  Then Fuego and Rey arrive, with Fuego trying to spray her blood around enough to gets its attention, and Rey trying to grapple it to force it to look at her.  He fails, but decides to at least prevent it from running.  He tackles it to the ground, but with a messy critical the wight grows serpentine fangs and bites into his face.  Rey has to make a frenzy check, but manages to keep it together by the barest margin. 

Fuego runs in, trying to beat at it with her flashlight.  She doesn’t put a dent in it, but Isaac grabs the stake he stole from Annabelle, and tries to drive it home while the wight is distracted.  He get close, but doesn’t manage to hit it in the heart.  It isn’t until Serif helps that they manage to paralyze it. 

Isaac warns them that it’s not dead, and they have to take care of it.  He gets ready to behead it, but Rey insists that they don’t kill it.  Everyone is shocked, asking him why.  He tries to dance around his reasons, but that just makes everyone more suspicious.  Fuego manages to mesmerize him and compel him to give his real reasons.

And the coterie learns that he needs it to prove to the Camarilla that he’s worth their time.  To say that the others are disgusted is an understatement.  The others immediately tell Isaac to proceed with whatever he was going to do, and he beheads it with his bone knives while Rey frantically tries to grab bits of it.  Serif snaps a photo of it before Isaac puts it down, and even texts it to Rey with the message ‘hope it was worth it’, but he’s too distraught to even notice.  

There are people coming and they have to go.  They all pile into the minivan with tension in the air.  Michael makes a fast getaway, and they tend to themselves in tense silence.  Isaac has to essentially treat aggravated damage to put his weapons away, showing that there is a big cost to his newfound abilities.  Rey decides not to heal, given his poor rolls.  Serif heals her own wounds, but the failure of one hunger roll puts her at four hunger, inches away from frenzy.

 It’s in this atmosphere that the confrontation about Rey’s Camarilla connections comes to a head.  Rey insists that he needed the wight in order not to give up the coterie to the Camarilla, which raises all their hackles.  Angela wants to shoot Rey.  Fuego threatens Angela, and Isaac threatens Fuego right back, forever protective of his people.  Threats escalate amongst all of them.  Secrets have been kept on all sides, yes.  Fuego didn’t tell them about Rafferty.  Serif changed her accent to hide her origins.  Isaac doesn’t want anyone on the third floor of his home, apparently less because it contains some terrible secret and more that he wanted one place that was solely his, where he could do his art in peace.  

Despite these secrets, Rey’s threats to turn them into the Cam are something more.  This isn’t just something personal.  This is something that could get Fuego blood-bonded worse than she already is, and get Serif and Isaac summarily executed.  Rey insists that this is why he needed the wight.  If he could provide more than the Camarilla asked for, he figured they wouldn’t ask him to turn on his coterie.  

Isaac snaps that the Camarilla doesn’t work like that.  They will demand everything from Rey forever, and they will still never accept him.  He will always be less than them.  Rey tries to counter with the Camarilla accepting Lasombra, but Isaac replies that the Camarilla will accept the Lasombra, but they will never accept an animal.

It’s brutal, but it starts to open people up to some real honesty.  Serif checks Rey’s personal pity with her own reasons why she needs the coterie.  All her life someone has just wanted something from her, never just liked her for her, but always only accepted her as a possession or something to extract value from.  This group is the first to offer her something like friendship without obvious strings.  She needs this.  She needs to be free, and the Camarilla are the end of that freedom for her. 

Fuego remains quiet.  In her family, people yell and fight, and that’s okay, because they get somewhere in the end.  She says that Rey will trust them, or he won’t, and her saying anything wouldn’t change it. 

Then Angela speaks up. This is a tactical problem.  Rey wants to be able to go into Manhattan without a stake in his back, not necessarily join the Camarilla.  He cannot do this on his own, but might be able to if he works with the coterie rather than lying to them.  They have to rely on one another, and maybe even like one another for a while.  It’s the only way they’ll survive.  

Rey has a choice, but he refuses to make it yet.  Not tonight. 

So we are left in limbo, with three of the coterie more or less pledging to one another out of necessity and the beginnings of something like affection.  Rey is on the outside.  He wants different things, and even the suggestion that they could help him not get staked is anathema to him, as he insists on doing everything on his own.  Could he accept this group?  Would he turn on them?  Will he try to go alone?  I suppose we will find out what he decides, and what becomes of our band of Anarchs in season 3.

 Thoughts

What a finale.  Again, light on large-scale plot, but this was heavy on paying off the interpersonal and emotional threads of the season, while giving us a conclusion to the wight that was satisfying and a difficult combat encounter.

We also finally have the coterie with at least most of their cards on the table.  They know what Rey has done, and what he wants.  They know more about Serif’s life, and what she needs, and why they are the closest she’s ever had to people who like her for her.  We know Fuego loves her community, has a complicated relationship with her sire possibly involving a blood bond or something similar, but has little interest in truly joining him.  And we know Isaac is actually the closest to the Anarchs in terms of philosophy as well as circumstance of all of them.  Yes, the Camarilla would kill him, but he also wants his freedom.  He wants his space and his things and his territory and his third floor which apparently just as his art in it (so far).  And they would all accomplish these things better together, if Rey can accept that and embrace it. 

So we leave this wonderful, messy foursome driving together, taking the long way home.  We end not with a tight conclusion, or a definitive end, but instead we end on an ellipsis.

With that, I’d like to discuss where the characters are emotionally, and why, to my mind, they need one another.  Serif is the most open about it.  Despite her misgivings, she cares about them all.  Francis still looms in her background, a Sabbat-shaped danger that none of them—even her—know about.  But he’s a less tempting thing now, because she may dislike some of the choices her coterie has made, but they’re hers.  Isaac is protective of her without asking anything in return.  Fuego laughs with her.  Even Rey has tried to be there for her.  These people have acted more like her family than the fucked-up reality of her blood family ever did.

Fuego’s great catharsis was last week.  The hardest-hit she was tonight was when Isaac claimed they would all lose their humanity eventually, if they lived long enough.  That’s the one thought she can’t stand.  And so, even if she didn’t express it as loudly as Serif did, this coterie is a totem for her, a proof of her own humanity.  As long as she needs them and likes them and doesn’t stop caring about them because she’s lost too much of herself to care, she’s still Fuego. She’s not Margot or Rafferty’s childe. She’s Fuego, with her humanity hard-won and her friends at her side protecting her.  And she does care about them.  She tries to defend Rey when Serif and Isaac go after him for his betrayal. She likes Serif a great deal, even if she can’t quite understand her.  She finds Isaac intriguing and powerful (and now, apparently, hot).  She can’t have her old family like she used to, even though she clings to them.  She needs community, and this is what she gets.  Four fuck-up Anarchs on their own in the Bronx.  And she’s holding onto that, and by extension her humanity, with all she’s got.

Isaac needs them too. We still don’t know the extent of his problems.  He has remained the biggest black box of the group this season.  But he needs them because he’s weak on his own, and his clan is reviled, and the Camarilla would execute him in a heartbeat.  And he does care, in his own weird Isaac way.  He cares about Serif, who is in a similar boat to him. He cares about Fuego’s desperate bid for her own humanity, even if he doesn’t quite understand it.  And he cares about Rey, because he wouldn’t be so angry if he didn’t.  He wouldn’t feel as betrayed as he does if he didn’t already sort of trust and sort of like this man.  Isaac is walls within walls and masks within masks.  He is the anomaly, the one of them with a good sire, and two friends (who he ghouled), but no real connections to kindred society.  Whoever he was before, high-school dropout and gangster, he is reinventing himself, and he both needs these people to keep him alive, and to keep him grounded.

Rey has brought the Camarilla to their doorstep, yes, but the Cam already knew about them; Angela was right about that.  Julia didn’t dangle the pronunciation of Tzimisce in front of Rey because she didn’t know how to say it.  It was a test.  She wanted to see if Rey would give her Isaac; she wanted to play the good cop and see how far he was really willing to go for the Cam.  And at this point, that’s still a dangling question, and one I don’t think even Rey knows the answer to.  He’s trying to play all ends to the middle, and he got his coterie caught in the middle with him.  Isaac was cruel, but he was probably right that the Camarilla would never accept Rey. They would use him up and throw him out.  If he wants respect, the only people likely to give it to him are these four, at least until he’s powerful enough that the Anarchs will respect him too.  

What this episode drove home is how much they all do need one another, and how unwillingly they’ve come to care about each other.  There isn’t actually much of a power differential between them.  They are all young, all vulnerable, all overwhelmed and scared and becoming something new.  And at least three of them are now committed to doing it together.

I will miss these four characters and their actors fiercely.  I am doing my best to be open to the second-season coterie, because I’m sure they’ll be great too, but I have liked this foursome more than almost any I’ve seen in live play TTRPGs in a long time.  They have such good chemistry, such great conflict, and such intense moments of real honest interaction and catharsis.

I want to congratulate all the players and Jason Carl on a great first season.  Aabria Iyengar brought such verve and such fun and such passion to Fuego that her emotional scene last episode was a phenomenal moment of real character growth for her, setting her up to be the voice of reason, humanity, and understanding in this final episode.  Joey Rassool has been phenomenally dedicated to being the wildcard, to playing Rey to the hilt even when—and perhaps especially when—it’s the wrong call, making him a breathless thrill to watch.  Mayanna Berrin plays Serif with such heart and fierceness and need to be free and valued and all the things everyone else craves but is too afraid to admit. And Alex Ward brings a creepy stillness coupled with an incredible intensity to Isaac that makes him electrifying to watch in every scene he’s in. 

I adore these characters and their story and this weird little coterie in their shitty part of the Bronx.  I will miss them tremendously, and can’t wait to see them again.  Thank you all!