#but so much of that has now disappeared from elite that there's nothing left that really interests me in the same way it did pre-2016

[lobaznyuk]

for ME it's watching ncaa vault in the first part of the year and then being physically assaulted with elite vault in the second lol

[xandraspalace]

Where the Heart Settles

----- Where the Heart Settles || Banzoin Hakka [HOLOSTARS EN]x GN! Reader - Birthday Fiction

Summary : Hakka used to think that a garden was nothing more than just a place filled with various flowers. However, on his birthday, you proved him wrong. Hakka found himself settling his heart in a safest haven, the garden you made only for him.

WC : 2421 words.

Warning : Grammar errors, fluff with a hint of angst, hint of TEMPUS lore, Ikemen Sengoku references, MLQC references, etc.

Featured Characters : An unnamed friend (OC), Gavis Bettel (mentioned), Josuiji Shinri (mentioned), and Magni Dezmond (mentioned).

Disclaimer : Everything written here is FICTITIOUS. This story is written in second-person point of view and the reader is gender-neutral. The personas written here are based on the avatar of the characters as vtubers, not the person behind it. Enjoy.

A/N : IT’S MY FAVORITE BIRD’S BIRTHDAY AND FOR ONCE I MANAGED TO POST THE BIRTHDAY FICTION ON TIME YEYYYY:D

Other Platforms : [MEDIUM] [TWITTER]

     INDEED. From the outside, your tea shop might look like just a normal shop. That's not wrong at all. You actually run a tea house in your homeland, Xenokuni. However, everything changed when the Jester came to you. Your shop is no longer an ordinary tea house. It now also serves as an information base specifically for Adventurer's Guild TEMPUS.

     You don't remember why you agreed to that. But one thing you know that once the war was over, you had to part ways with your significant other because the Jester took him to the TEMPUS Guild headquarters. And it had been quite a while since the last time you saw him.

     "I'll be fine, I promise."

     To be honest, those worries never went away, not only because he left you, but also because of the eroding effects of the Records Corruption on his body after he was attacked during the war.

     No one knows when they will attack again. You always get scared and anxious every time you think about it. There has been no peace since the people of Xenokuni questioned the validity of Utopia that the elites of Elysium had idealized.

     “Today is his birthday,” you glanced at the digital clock in the room and sighed, feeling a little disappointed. You wanted to celebrate his birthday with him too.

     You don't know, but perhaps the divine forces heard your complaint and answered your wish. The sound of—specifically—okobo sandals hitting the floor can be heard clearly by your ears. However, you ignored whoever it was, considering that your close friend who also works at your tea shop was up front to greet customers.

     But not long after, your friend split the curtain door open to see you. They stood there with a wide smile, it made you confused. “[Y/N],” they called, excitement could be heard in their calm voice.

     "What, are they our customers who want tea or clients who need information?" you asked.

     “You have a guest.”

     With hesitation, you asked again, "I have a guest?"

     However, your question was answered when your friend stepped back, making way for someone. From behind the curtain, you saw a figure that you would never have thought of. Your eyes widen in disbelief.

     You missed this person so much. It would be a lie if you didn't expect a little bit about his sudden arrival, but you also can't hope too much because of his busy life now as a member of the Guild TEMPUS. But one thing you were sure of was that the divine forces did heard your complains about just a moment ago.

     “Hakka…?” you called his name, approaching him slowly. “Is that really you?” That was a stupid question, you admit to yourself. 

     The purple-haired man smiled gently at you. "Of course it’s me. Is there any coolest and cutest exorcist that is better than me here? Tell me who it is!”

     It was him.

     You could confirm it from his antics. Your hand reached for his face, making sure that he wouldn’t disappear when you touch him. You looked down to see one last thing that could prove it was really him.

     You lifted one of the Hakka's hands gently, his eroded one. When you saw the traces of the corruption on his right hand, you could finally breathe a sigh of relief. “Oh, right. It is you,” you laughed shakily, probably because of the tears you were trying to hold back.

     Hakka also raised his right hand to hold yours that was cupping his cheek. "I'm home," he whispered softly.

     You finally pulled him into a hug. Hakka also rested his chin on your crown. He embraced you with such tenderness while whispering sweet nothings.

     Being in his arms again made you realize ... he is your home, no matter how far you two were apart.

     Since Hakka left for Guild TEMPUS, you have prepared something for him when he comes back. His arrival on a birthday was perfect, so you could show the things you prepared for him as a gift.

     You told Hakka there was a place you wanted to show him. You also warned him that this place would be dangerous to visit. The reason why is because this place you were going to visit has the most and strongest concentration of Records Corruption residue. You even call it the Xenokuni’s residue center of Records Corruption.

     But because you told Hakka it would be a birthday gift for him, he agreed to go there with you. He paid no heed to the actual danger he was about to approach. You'd think there would be at least a bit of trauma reactions from him because of what happened to him during the war. But it seemed that he really was the coolest exorcist because he was not afraid of any dangers and obstacles before him.

     "You guys will have a date?" your friend, who was serving some customers, asked.

     "Not really a date, but we will take a little stroll," you answered. “You wouldn’t mind looking after the shop by yourself for a bit, right?”

     Your friend laughed lightly and shook their head. "Of course I don't mind. And Hakka,” they turned to the Tengu. “I wish you a happy birthday. I thought you came here because you or someone from the guild needed information. Turns out you actually came here to meet your darling.”

     Hakka touched his chest, acting dramatic. "Ouch, that's hurting me, you know?" Hakka and your friends laughed, making you smile with them.

     Right after that, Hakka took something out from inside of his white kimono cloth that covered his black shirt. “Here.” Hakka took out an envelope and handed it to your friend.

     "What is this?" they asked.

     “Letter from Dad,” he loud-whispered to them you could hear him. "He really misses you."

     You looked at your friend with teasing gazes and chuckled. “Looks like you guys miss each other. It's not a one-sided feeling."

     Your friend received the letter from the Tengu. Shades of pink blushed their cheeks.

     Hakka grabbed your hand to quickly step out of the tea house. “Bye, Mom! We're off."

     "I'm not your mother!" they protested, but did not seem to hate it.

     Before actually leaving, once again Hakka shouted, “Shinri's my dad, so you're my mom. See you!”

     “Don't tease them too much,” you laughed while walking out of the tea house with him.

     "It's okay. They need to know that Shinri is missing them as well." He took your hand in his. "Let's go. Should we jump down to the spot you mentioned or walk to enjoy the view instead?”

     You giggled. "Let's take a walk. I want to enjoy, not only the view, but also spending time with you too.”

     "That's a great idea."

     With that, hand in hand, you went to the place where your gift for him was.

     After a while of walking, you and Hakka finally arrived at your destination. You stared into the misty abyss in front of you. The concentration of Record Corruptions residue at the bottom of the abyss made your stomach sick. Your legs felt weak, as if you were tired. You're not sure how you came to this place for the past few months.

     “Careful there.” Hakka wrapped once of his arms around your waist, making sure you didn't fall. The Tengu looked at you with a worried look.

     Hakka felt the same way as how you feel. But thanks to his Karasutengu Data, Hakka could still stand and make sure he didn’t fall because of the corruption residue concentrations

     “Hakka, let's go there,” your muttered weakly, pointing a dark, narrow alley. You tried to stand still. "There's a nice place at the end of the alley. I think that place has not been touched by the residue of Records Corruption," you explained.

     Hakka gave you a curious look. While helping you, the two of you entered the alley way.

     When you and Hakka reached there, the exorcist dropped his jaw in surprise, his periwinkle eyes was perfectly rounded. “What is… this…?” Hakka was speechless with what he saw before him. He felt like he was in a different world.

     A bed of flowers stretched out in front of him. It wasn't that wide, but what was before him can spoil his eyes and it could rest his mind which was previously spinning abysmally because of the corruption residue concentration outside.

     "It's a small garden," you answered his previous question. You looked at the garden fondly. “I found this place a while after you and Shinri left to join the headquarters members. Before you left, the Jester had asked me to take a few samples of the corruption residue, and the alley way caught my attention, then I found this place,” you once again explained.

     Hakka listened to you carefully and you continued, “I noticed that the soil in this place is more fertile than most of the land in Xenokuni after the battle. I sent a sample of the residue that the Jester requested along with a letter containing a report about this place. Sir Dezmond replied to the report and said it seems that this place was indeed left untouched during the battle. The influence of the Records Corruption didn’t reach this place.”

     What you said earlier was true. The place seemed untouched by the influence of Records Corruption at all. That place was so fresh and calming, as if it was a world apart from Elysium which is always filled with an unobtrusive aura, despite its beautiful scenery. The exorcist took a deep breath, feeling the fresh air.

     A thin, soft smile touched Hakka's lips. "It's beautiful," he uttered, lightly chuckling.

     A few moments after gazing at the garden, Hakka noticed how neat the garden was. The corner of the garden had been fenced in with wooden pickets. Flowers of all shapes and colors grew out of its well-tended soil. He wasn't sure everything could be this neat without someone’s hands.

     "I grew all of these flowers and tended it ever since Sir Dezmond said I could plant this place with flowers and trees." As if you were reading his mind, your statement succeeded in answering Hakka’s curiosity. You smiled sweetly. “I thought I'll take care of this garden and show you someday. Apart from being located near the Records Corruption residue center, this place has become my safest haven when I need a place to clear my mind.”

     Hakka looked at you in surprise. But if you look at his smile and eyes, curiosity, excitement, and pride was mixed together. “You did all this?!”

     Seeing his expression, you laughed lightly. “Yup! You came here at the right time—it's your birthday, so can you consider this as your birthday present?”

     "You mean... you tended these flowers for me?"

     You nodded, “Do you like it—woah!”

     “I love it!” Hakka interrupted your question with an instant answer as he jumped on you, hugging you tightly. You and Hakka bursted out laughing. "Are you going to continue to take care of this garden until later?" he asked.

     “You bet!” You looked at him with a prideful smile. “When Xenokuni is more stable, when Elysium is fine again, I want people to see this garden too. I want to prove to them that even in the midst of despair, there is still hope blooming for us to hold on to.”

     Before the war erupted, Xenokuni was a very beautiful place. The spring usually beautifies every corner of the land. The garden was like a mini version of Xenokuni's condition before the battle.

     Hakka could practically see the love and devotion that had been poured into each and every flower. The sight was overwhelming yet feeling so good.

     “Happy birthday, Hakka.” As he stood there in amazement, you reached out and took his hand, smiling somewhat bashfully. "Years from now, I hope we'll still be together and come out to see these flowers again."

     In the hands of the elites of Elysium, Hakka never knows what will happen in the future. However, seeing you who were so committed and confident about the future, he couldn’t bear to destroy your hopes. The sights you mentioned—a stable Xenokuni without war, and a beautiful Elysium without dictatorship of the elites—Hakka really wanted to see those sights. He wanted to see the end result of his and the rest of Guild TEMPUS’ hard works.

     Hakka hold your hands tight in his. “What are you talking about? Of course we will always be together. Where are you going? You're stuck with me for a really, really long time."

     It might sound like a joke, but Hakka wasn’t joking at all. He was very serious about what he said. His bluish violet eyes painted dedication and compassion.

     The spring breeze blew, not carrying the gray vibes of Xenokuni, but the scent of the flowers you tended to so beautifully. In your heart, you felt so proud of your gift for him, seeing how calm Hakka was when he's with you.

     You noticed your hands he was holding. Hakka looked back at you with a beautiful smile on his face. He pulled you into a hug, embracing you so gently, protecting you from the outside world.

     To the exorcist, this was what it’s like if pure, unadultred joy took form. “[Y/N],” he called your name softly.

     “Yes, Hakka?” You shot him a questioning look as he smiled and looped his arms around you, drawing you closer.

     “Thank you... Thank you so much... Thank you for being with me...”

     Hakka used to think that a garden was nothing more than a place filled with various flowers. It was indeed beautiful, and colorful, and sweet. But it was just what it was. However, in that moment, you proved him wrong. Hakka found himself settling his heart in that very place. He found himself a safe haven, only for you and him. And it was a prove that love could still bloom in the midst of despair and hopeless darkness. A place that shines so brightly in the midst of chaos, it almost felt like you two were hidden away from the rest of the world.

     Since the war that destroyed Xenokuni happened, Hakka no longer believes in the concept of Utopia. But maybe, with you, he can feel what they call “perfect world.”

     To him, meeting you was a blessing. You turned his world upside down, yet you do it beautifully and effortlessly.

     With you, his heart settled.

     Forever. -----[FIN].

Where the Heart Settles Fiction by Author Xandra April, 2023

[zoeysdamn]

Bark, Bite & Break Bones - Tyler Galpin x Van Helsing!reader | Part.5

Summary: Pillowtalk after sex comes with its lot of confession and unexpected tenderness. You tell Tyler a little more about your childhood, and you both come to the conclusion that you need to collaborate to get through the school year. A surprise night visit could lead to more problems. 

Warnings: angst, smut (characters are between 17 and 18), swearing, referred trauma, mention of arson, mention of blood 

A/N: There’s not a lot of action in this chapter, it’s a bit like a filler episode to get to the “second part” of the fic, in a matter of the plot. I hope you’ll like it anyway!

[Masterlist] [Prologue] [Part.1] [Part.2] [Part.3] [Part.4]

It had been some time since you had found yourself with someone staying in your bed. And for some reason, this wasn’t completely unpleasant. Maybe because Tyler was surprisingly respectful of your boundaries, even with the mind-blowing sex you two just had. No idea how he sensed you required some time alone, but at the same time were scared enough to be on your own to ask him to stay. 

Rolling on your side you opened one of your bed table drawers, retrieving your cigarette packs and your lighter. The previous blissful warmth that had been envelopping you was gradually fading, the naked skin of your upper body now exposed to the air. Lighting a cigarette you slumped lazily against the bed head, Tyler carefully observing you from where he laid on his side. Maybe it was on purpose, but you took your time to take the first drag, deeply inhaling the smoke instead of speaking up. You could almost hear the dozen of questions in Tyler's head. He was the first to talk.

“What happened on the lake ?'' Exhaling the smoke for a long second, you tried to ignore the flashes of the previous events echoing in your head, ''Yoko and Bianca decided to take the matter in their own hands,” you mumbled flatly. “Some teams on the lake saw them, they panicked and ran away, nothing much to say.” 

Tyler’s eyes traveled on the side of your throat, noticing the scratch marks behind your ears and down your neck; he had been rough with you, but those marks weren’t his doing. It looked like someone had gripped on your neck with all their might, and not in a kinky way. Pieces of the puzzle slowly assembled in his mind: the marks, the mud and water on your clothes, the rasp in your voice when he had arrived in your room…the most dreadful scenario sketches itself in his mind. 

Sensing horrified anxiety emanating from him, you turned your head to him and offered a weak but sincere smile. 

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, “It’s not the first nor the last time it’ll happen.”

A hand reached for your forearm, caressing the skin gently, “Doesn’t make it any more right,” he whispered, and you didn’t push away his soothing touch. It was his way of being concerned after all.

“I brought that on myself,” you admitted in a hushed tone, “they want to get revenge and they won’t stop until they get it.”

“For what happened with Jeremiah and the Nightshades?” guessed Tyler. If you were surprised, it only lasted a second. Ajax must have spilled the beans about this whole affair, so you nodded in confirmation. 

“Attacking him shook the hierarchy of their order,” you explained, “Jeremiah’s family had funded them for decades, they almost disappeared when he left the school.”

Tyler’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Why does it matter? Isn’t this just a kind of student club?” You exhaled another string of smoke, almost finishing the cigarette, “It’s more than that for them. It’s an elite club, being part of it means building your adult social life. Being a former Nightshade has a certain weight among outcasts’ nobility, one of their most influential members’ sons being assaulted had consequences for everyone.”. Licking your lips, you tried to not think about what happened earlier too much; somehow it felt more traumatizing than what you did to Jeremiah. In fact, you hadn’t expected them to be this cruel.”The Nightshades had fallen in disgrace because of me,” you trailed on slowly, “if they make me disappear, they’ll get their honor and glory back, that’s why they’re so persistent at trying to harm me.” 

At the admittance, Tyler felt his heart squeeze in sorrow. This wasn’t fair. Yes you had assaulted one of their members, but keeping attacking you, trying to kill you for a lost glory was downright cruel. But with your closed face and lingering sadness in your eyes, he knew trying to convince you otherwise was useless. You were resigned to accept this, no word could make you change your mind – and it broke his heart a little. 

When you rolled on your side again to crush the cigarette on the ashtray on your bed table, his eyes found themselves attracted to your upper back. The red, turning purplish bruise in the middle of your back seemed fresh – it was where Yoko had crushed her knee to pin you on the ground. But more specifically, the dark pink scar in a kind of star shape at the center of your scapula, almost half the size of his hand, caught his eyes. Before he could stop himself, his fingers slowly reached for it, and a soft gasp escaped you when they grazed upon the irregular surface. The way you stiffened under his touch reminded him how you had hissed at it earlier, like it had triggered something. But his touch was much softer now, so you didn’t snap it away and much to his surprise, seemed to relax a little. Taking it as a sign it was okay, Tyler slowly traced the outlines of the scar, fingers gently dancing over the damaged skin. The contact on this sensitive patch of your skin, that you usually hide to everyone, sent a chill down your spine and you let out a faint ragged breath. 

“It’s an old scar,” you whispered, Tyler’s thumb caressing the area where the scarred skin met the soft one on the outlines of your ribs. 

The mattress beside you dipped slightly, and you felt his lips press a soft kiss on the top of the scar, light as a feather. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” he reassured in a whisper. He was right of course; but deep down you felt like you owed that to him. Not because you had just fucked, but because he was willing to listen. It was definitely a first which made some of your repressed feelings crack up your shell a little. 

“I was seven,” you said in a hushed tone, “I was living with my grandparents at that time, in a small country town. I didn’t really know what being a Van Helsing meant yet, for me everyone was the same and I didn’t understand my grandparent’s hate for what they called monsters.”

The memory made you shiver; crawling closer to you, Tyler slid his arm around your hip and pressed another reassuring kiss between your neck and shoulder. The soothing gesture helped calm your nerves a little. 

“There were outcasts in the town, even if I didn’t know that at the time,” you continued in a rasping voice, a lump forming in your throat. “I went to bed one night like I always did, and fell asleep. My grandparents left the house during the night, I don’t know why but they did that often and nothing bad ever happened.”. Releasing a shaky breath, you tried to keep your composure despite the sting of tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. Good thing you weren’t facing Tyler, or else you wouldn’t have been able to open up like this. 

“It wasn’t the smell that woke me up first, the taste of ashes in my mouth did. Apparently I was a sound sleeper as a child,” you chuckled bitterly. “When I woke up in the middle of the night, my room was filled with smoke and flames. Someone had broken in to set the curtains on fire. I couldn’t escape.“

The muscles under your scars twitched, like a distant echo of the memory. 

“I tried to scream, you know,” you whispered faintly, afraid that talking any louder would make the sob in your voice audible, “but there was so much smoke, it burned my eyes and lungs. I- I don’t even know how long it took me to get out of my room. When I finally reached the ground floor, the flames were already everywhere. And when I finally managed to get to a window…the cellar it…”

“Shhh,” whispered Tyler against your trembling skin, trying to soothe you, “it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here, you’re okay.” 

Out of reflex, one of your hands came to grip on the one of his own that was caressing your belly, grounding you as your mind was spiraling down under the traumatizing memory.

You swallowed hard, “The ceiling collapsed,” you muttered, throat tight with emotion. “The beams broke under the flames’ pressure and…and I didn’t see them crumbling down until it was too late.”. Despite your better judgment, a broken sob left your lips, “I think I passed out a little after the blow. Because when I opened my eyes again, I wasn’t standing anymore, I was trapped under the beams and I couldn’t feel anything from my left shoulder.”

A treacherous tear made its way on your cheek and you whipped it immediately. 

“I don’t know how I get out of the house,” you sobbed, “I think somehow I managed to free myself because of my narrow child body. Then I crawled outside by going through the kitchen backdoor. A neighbor found me at the border of the nearby wood, passed out, covered in ashes and a splinter of wood pierced through my shoulder.” 

Heavy silence filled the room; opening up about this took a lot from you, and as horrified he was by your story, Tyler didn’t dare to speak. Instead, he hugged you tighter from behind, offering his silent support. 

“The neighbor got me to the hospital, and my grandparents got me out the moment they showed up. Saying no one in this town was to be trusted and that we needed to go to another state because someone had recognized them.”. A bitter snort let your mouth at your grandparents’ mention, “They hunted the wrong werewolf in the nearby town, and once the pack found our house they were rooting for revenge. They found them trying to get rid of their arson material,” you sniffled loudly, “slayed them while I was trapped in that house.”

You reached for your scar, meeting Tyler’s fingers here and softly bumping into them as you massaged the top of your damaged skin. 

“I owe them that scar as much as I do to those werewolves,” you muttered bitterly, “I got it just because my last name’s Van Helsing. The wolves wanted to get rid of me, and the grandparents deemed that their mission was more important than helping me. I get the reminder everyday in the mirror.” 

You wanted to keep yourself composed, you truly did. But the weight of all this bitterness and sadness you had pushed down for years crashed into you, and you broke down into tears. 

“I was a kid,” you whimpered, “I was just a fucking kid, it was too soon to learn anything about family burdens!”

Unable to find the words to comfort you, Tyler could only tighten his hug, and held you close as you sobbed in his arms. And that was all you needed, really, so you cried quietly and let all the pain you had ignored flow in you. After a few minutes you calmed down, sniffing loudly and back still against Tyler’s chest. 

“If I could I’d disappear and leave the Van Helsing name behind me in the blink of an eye, truly I would,” you rasped weakly, “I’m so tired of all of this shit, with Nevermore, with my family and everything. But…I can’t let that happen again, not to anyone. That’s why I’m a hunter. I saw what outcasts and humans can do to each other…I can’t stay here and do nothing while some assholes are scarring and hurting generations of kids because of what they are and not thinking of the consequences of their actions. Does that…does that make sense?” you asked with a small voice, realizing how much you had opened up and suddenly feeling somewhat shy about it. 

But Tyler nodded quietly against your skin, pressing another kiss on your shoulder, “Yeah, it does. I get it, you’re realistic. About your family, about outcasts, about yourself.”

His words made you turn your head to him, eyes wide in surprise. Your blurry gaze met his brown orbs, who held more care than you could have ever imagined. Somehow he had managed to voice exactly how you felt; because he could relate so much about it. 

His face close enough with yours for your breaths to mix, Tyler carried on in a soft voice. “The only thing you want is to do your own thing while freeing yourself of your past, right? Even if you know you can’t change it.”

A heavy lump formed in your throat under the weight of emotions, but you still managed to give him a weak sincere smile, “You’re almost a better therapist than Dr.Fern,” you joked slightly. 

It put it a little more at ease and Tyler cracked a smile, “Or maybe I can just understand you, sweetheart.”

“You can?” you asked in a small voice, tainted with surprise. 

He nodded, leaning in to press a kiss on the corner of your mouth, “I feel that; somehow I can relate to what you feel. I don’t really want to change who I am, I can’t anyway. But I want to start over, and I know you do too.” 

Emotions started to build up in your throat again, and you pressed your lips against Tyler’s. As a way to say thank you, or maybe just because you craved to take every slightest form of affection right now. God knows when you’ll push it away in stubbornness again. You turned slightly to face Tyler, only breaking your kiss for a brief instant before diving on his lips again in a mix of passion and softness. Letting go of his lips you cradled his face, caressing his cheekbones with your thumbs, sinking in the gentle moment. You opened your mouth, trying to say something but the words were stuck in your throat; you weren’t even sure what to say, you weren’t really good at that kind of thing.

So instead you crawled a little higher on the bed, and sneaked your arms around Tyler’s neck, pulling him close to you. In this new position, Tyler’s head rested against your chest as you softly ran your fingers on his neck and his danced on the small of your back, caressing your skin. Both of you needed that physical contact. 

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, you spoke up. “Did you mean what you said at the last therapy session?”, you whispered softly. “About not caring about redeeming yourself, and only getting away from here and finding a place to be your own person?”

He nodded above your breasts, his breath tickling your skin. 

You pondered whether or not you should ask this, but the question burned in your mind, “Do you mean that? Not redeeming, I mean.”

Tyler angled his face up to look at you with furrowed brows, “Why?” 

Softly pushing away some curls on his forehead, you looked at him intensely, “I don’t know…I feel there’s more than that. There’s more than the cocky and sexy witty boy in you, tiger.”

This brought a grin on his face, “So you think I’m sexy, uh?” 

You laughed lightly and leaned to almost brush your lips against his teasingly, “I don’t have mind-blowing sex with everyone, pretty boy.”

His grin only grew wider at that, but it soon faltered as he thought about your question. 

Laying his head back against your chest, he sighed faintly, “It might sound silly but…a part of me wants to make up for what I did, that’s why I need to make this year at Nevermore work. I…I want to make at least this right, for my mom. She- I don’t think she’d like to see me as a blood-thirsted murderer for the rest of my life.”

Unable to stop yourself you let out a small snort, “Mommy’s boy much? Should’ve seen that one coming.”

The snarky comment obviously stung him, because he immediately shot up his head to glare at you, pushing you away and making you wince at the loss of his warm skin against yours, “And what about it? Can’t I just miss my mom or want to do things right for once without you being such a sarcastic bitch about it? What the fuck is your problem?”

Your face darkened in shame, and you averted your eyes; it was a low blow coming from you, and you knew you shouldn’t have said that. Tyler calmed down a little at your backing off instead of the witty comeback he expected. He shouldn’t have snapped at you like that either and started to feel guilty about it. 

“Hey,” he whispered in a softer tone while getting up slightly to crawl back to your height and laying on his back, “c’me here”. His arm opened in an invitation, and after a brief moment of hesitation you silently laid next to him, your head against his biceps. For a solid minute none of you uttered a word. 

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” Tyler finally said, to which you only shrugged. 

“Don’t be. I had no right to be such a bitch about your family just because I don’t give two shits about mine.” You let out a long sigh. “I guess it’s just…weird to me to hear someone being willing to change who they are for someone else, you know?”

Tyler gave a pensive hum, “Would you stop hunting if someone asked you to?” 

Thinking about it for a moment before answering, you then said, “No. Definitely not, even if that someone is a creature I could never harm. Don’t get me wrong,” you then added to his raised eyebrows, “I love hunting, it gives me power.”

“How so?”

Rubbing the scar on your back mind-absently, you muttered, “It’s the only way I have the feeling that I can actually do something. And do what people expect me to do.” 

Tyler’s eyes widened at your words. He had always pictured you as the opposite of a people-pleaser, more prone to do your own thing no matter what. Guess there was more to that too. 

“My family has always been saying things like, not ‘you can do it’, but ‘you must do it’. And…I was just a random little girl with no special powers, what else was I supposed to do to exist in their eyes?”. You let out a tired sigh, “Even if I’m old enough to choose my own actions now, I don’t know if I ever want to stop being a hunter, even if I don’t slay any creature in blind rage like it had always been done. It’s how I am, how I exist…I’m not even sure if I’d know what to do instead.” 

“Would you,” Tyler started before clearing his throat awkwardly like he was hesitant, “would you be willing to try if…if someone was willing to help you figure it out?”

Turning your head to the side you met his gaze already set on you, burning with his question. None of you dared to address the one hidden behind it though. Would you run with me if I asked you to? It was here, just on the tip of his tongue; but it didn’t come out. Looking at him intensely, you tried to not get lost into his deep brown eyes or getting distracted by his lips. Because your walls of defense had been already lowered for too long, a sarcastic answer took over. 

“Asking me to marry you already, lover boy?” you grinned softly. “Didn’t know you had enjoyed the sex so much.”

He let out a dry chuckle, both flustered and amused by the suggestion, “I mean, we both want to go through this year and then leave all of this behind to start over. If we stick together, we could help each other with that, right?”

You thought about it for a second; he wasn’t wrong. Having each other’s back and making sure you both graduated was the key to both of your freedoms. And given what just happened – great sex and heart-to-heart pillow talk alike – well, it couldn’t go too bad, could it? 

“Okay,” you breathed softly, “yeah, sounds like a plan. Guess you’re really stuck with me now, partner.”

Tyler grinned, one of his hands brushing teasingly under your belly button, “Bet someone was really convincing earlier to make you agree, uh doll?”

You grinned and pressed yourself against him, almost laying on top of him, “Mmmh, that glorious ass of yours is definitely a nice added bonus, not gonna lie.” 

“Good to know you appreciate nice things,” he chuckled, “does that plan of yours include more of this ‘mind-blowing sex’? Asking for a friend.” 

The feeling of his digit slowly dipping between your folds made you shiver and you pressed a grining kiss against his lips, muffling a moan, “If you play your cards correctly, maybe it will, pretty boy.” 

Turned out that Tyler definitely knew how to play his cards correctly. 

It didn’t take much time before the two of you jumped on each other again, mouths hungrily kissing and biting, hands groping, nails scratching on every inch of your skins every time the very thin barrier of self-control broke. You’d be surprised if you two had actually managed to stay discreet about it; the endless flirting wasn't different than before, except for the not so subtle eye-sex added to the bunch every now and then. One could have thought that all the tension would have died down after Tyler and you finally fucked, boy they couldn’t been more wrong. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to disappear after dinner or between classes, and you found yourself more than once on your knees on a bathroom’s floor, bobbing your head up and down and swirling your tongue around Tyler’s cock as he gripped the back of your head and grunted in ragged breaths under the sweet ministrations of your mouth; or for him have you pressed flush against your mattress again, thrusting deep into your dripping pussy, relishing on the feeling of your walls squeezing him and the wanton moans like music in his ears. He’d pull one of your legs over his shoulder and you’d let out the most delicious cry as he’d reach the spot that made you see stars, not caring the slightest if anyone heard you. 

None of you had yet spoken up about where your relationship stood. Two weeks had already passed since the disastrous Poe cup, and the marks Yoko’s grip had left on your neck were gone, long replaced with more pleasurably-earned bite marks and scratches thanks to Tyler. Perhaps the aftermath of the Poe cup events didn’t leave much room to talk about it, or perhaps none of you decided to address the subject, seemingly always forgetting to mention it every time the question popped in your minds. 

The most accurate term was that you were…friends, probably. Sure, friends didn’t fuck each other’s brains out like you did, and weren’t supposed to throw that much snarky comments, but you weren’t exactly together either. You guessed maybe you were lovers? There wasn’t love with a big L, at least not really – you wouldn’t have opened up that much to Tyler if there wasn’t a little more than affection for him. So, more than friends, but not yet lovers?

Although right now you couldn’t care less about whatever label you could put on your relationship, not when Tyler was mercilessly pounding into you and groaning against your shoulder. Chest pressed against his room’s door, you stifled a heated whimper in hope no one passing by in the corridor would hear you. That only seemed to amuse Tyler even more and he nibbed the spot behind your ear playfully, teeth sinking in the soft skin like he knew would make your head turn. 

“What’s the matter sweetheart? Not much cocky now are we?” 

Gasping loudly at a sharper roll of his hips, your left hand blindly reached behind to grip the back of his thigh. The way your body was pinned between his and the door didn’t allow you to get much grounding, but Tyler’s violent thrusts were enough to keep you standing despite your wobbling knees. But no matter how delicious he felt pounding into you, you didn’t want to admit your defeat just yet. 

Letting go of his thigh, your hand went to reach his head and you tugged harshly on his roots, making him groan on your neck. 

“I think I’m just so full of your cock now, lover boy, isn’t that right?” 

The way your hips rolled back against him took Tyler by surprise, and he let out a long moan this time. The grin that pushed on your face between ragged breaths was pure ecstasy and delight to his reaction. As an immediate answer to your teasing Tyler gripped on your hips, no doubt leaving marks that would bruise later, and slammed harder through your dripping pussy. Clenching your walls around his length you couldn't help but throw a punched fist against the door. 

“A-ah fuck! Just right here right fuckin’ he– fUCK!”

The high-pitched cry that left your lips only made him more feral, thrusts becoming even harder until his balls slapped against your skin. You whimpered loudly and a sudden urge made you grab one of Tyler’s hands to press it against your throbbing clit. He chuckled hotly in your ear but didn’t complain about it when he started to finger you at an unforgiving pace. 

“Eager, doll? Want to cum all over my cock with that sweet pussy of yours?” 

A wanton moan escaped from your throat once again, and you drooled a little against the door. “Don’t stop, don’t– ahn! Tyler!” 

“That’s it,” he  growled, curling his fingers against just the right spot, “say my name sweetheart, go on.” 

So caught on in your animalistic and erotic atmosphere, none of you heard the muffled sound of footsteps in the corridor and coming closer to the room. And when the door opened unexpectedly – despite your body pressed flush against it – time froze for a second. Through the small gap of the door your glossy lusted gaze met the frozen – no, horrified – eyes of Tyler’s roommate. Speaking of him, Tyler hadn’t slowed down his pace and kept up with his savage thrusting and groans – and before you could stop yourself you moaned as he hit deep inside you. The sound made Ajax’s mind snap back into reality and his face turned into the brightest shade of red before he shut the door violently in ashamed mortification. You could almost feel sorry for the poor Gorgon if you weren't so busy having your pussy being absolutely ravaged by Tyler's cock. A rough slam threw all your concerns out of the window and you felt a familiar knot building up in your stomach.

"Ha—! Yes there, please Tyler harder, han—" 

The shameless beg wasn't anything like you but damn Tyler just felt so deep and so good. On wobbly knees you tried so hard to grasp on some more pressure to relieve yourself, your hips wildly bucking against his fingers or trying to push back closer to his groin. 

Entangled in your growing pleasure you didn't notice his other hand crawling under your shirt until his fingers pushed up your bra and pinched your nipple. A squeak escaped you, quickly turning into a moan as you pressed yourself even harder to the door, pushing closer into his large hand. 

Both of you were close now, and you couldn't form a single coherent thought in your mind. Tyler was everywhere, rubbing on your clit, circling your nipples, pounding into your cunt, and biting on your neck, his presence was overwhelming. His hungry grunts gradually turned into moans as he felt his balls tighten, so ready to release himself in you, filling you with his cum. The mere thought of it and the erotic vision of you trapped between him and the door, moaning shamelessly and wetting his cock and fingers made Tyler moan loudly and he came hard inside you. The feeling of him releasing his seed made you cry even more loudly and he slammed his cumming dick ruthlessly into you through his orgasm, determined to make you cum too. The mad pace he set on his fingers combined with the force of his girth hitting your right spot did the trick, and only a few seconds later you were rolling your head back on his shoulder, your mouth wide open in a silent moan caught in your throat. 

Tyler's thrusts became gradually sloppier, his fingers massaging your inner walls gently as you both rode through your orgasm. Chest rising up in ragged breathing you tried to regain composure, Tyler's arm securely sneaked around your middle to support you with your shaky legs. Angling your face up, you peppered his jaw with lazy open-mouthed kisses. 

“Where did that come from, lover boy?” you breathed out with a weak grin.

Breathing heavily, Tyler chuckled against your neck, “You didn’t see how fucking hot you look after fencing practice, doll. Plus I didn’t hear you complaining about that, uh?”

His hand lazily grabbed your throat to turn your face correctly to kiss you, and you hummed into the kiss. Oh no, you didn’t complain about it the slightest.

"I think we scared Ajax for the rest of his life," you chuckled, parting your lips from his. 

“Mmmmh, guess your moans gave him the impression we were making a porn in there.”

You slapped his shoulder playfully, but the needy whimper that escaped you when Tyler pulled himself out of you proved him right. Turning you around to face him with a surprising gentleness, he brought you close again into another kiss. 

“Don’t think Ajax will be back anytime soon,” he whispered between two bruising kisses,  “shower?” 

The stickiness of his cum mixed with your own dripping between your legs made you nod. “Lead the way, tiger.” 

The dark circles under Ajax’s eyes the next day were almost as funny as the mortified blush that crept on his face every time he looked at you. Maybe he should have tried to stone himself to forget what he had seen. 

A few days later, you were just finishing brushing your teeth to go to bed when someone knocked on your door. Checking the hour you realized it was way past curfew and wondered who it could be. Opening your door you couldn’t help but feel a pang of deception when it didn’t show a familiar curly-haired scared boy, but instead the short silhouette of Wednesday. 

“Van Helsing,” she greeted flatly. 

“Addams. What are you doing here?” 

“I require your expertise about something.” 

Your eyebrow rose high, “At this hour?”

“I’m a nocturnal animal,” deadpanned Wednesday. She pushed past you, inviting herself in without asking, “I hope I won’t find any gross evidence of your coital activities in this room,” she noted while looking around your room, “I sadly lack acid to burn my own eyes. Tragic.”

You raised an eyebrow, quickly deducing what she was referring to and how she heard of that, “So Ajax was actually traumatized enough to confide in you? Strange.”

“He didn’t. He has a loud mouth and so does Enid, unfortunately,” she sneered, a chill of disgust coursing down her spine. 

Chuckling, you shut your door and went to lean against your desk, arm crossed. 

“Isn’t that strange that you came to me specifically,” you mused with a smirk, and she rolled her eyes. 

“I’m more inclined to seek advice from people who are actually skilled at killing,” she said casually, “I find them more enlightened than most humans on practical matters.”

That made you snort lightly. 

“Okay so,” you inquired, “what did you need my help for?”

“I require your expertise,” corrected the Addams sharply, “I do not need help.”

Shrugging at her comment you rolled your eyes, “Whatever you call it. Shoot.” 

“I came to understand you were quite versed in alchemy skills, is that true?” 

You raised a curious eyebrow at her. The training to become a monster hunter had a large part about how to make potions, elixirs, bombs and decoction to help for the hunts; so yeah, you aced the basic level classes at Nevermore, but you weren’t exactly the potion master either. 

“Sure,” you chimed carefully, “depends on how advanced we talk about alchemy. Why?”

“I assume you happen to know about the so-called truth serum?” 

You nodded. Although even the most talented of witches haven’t managed to turn their truth-telling spells into a potion, there was indeed a concoction that could do the trick at a smaller scale. A bunch of psychoactive drugs to make a subject more willing to provide the truth, really. Ethanol, scopolamine and some other substances mixed together couldn’t exactly guarantee a predictable enhancement of truth-telling, but it could at least work on weaker minds. 

“What of it?” you asked curiously. 

Looking closely at your old books collection – mostly volumes about monster hunting and bestiaries – Wednesday seemed completely unfazed by your current discussion, “As an expert, what do you think about adding some more substances into it?”

“Depends, what kind of substances?” you frowned.

Turning sharply in your direction, Wednesday explained, “From wolfsbane to silver dust, I’m yet to decide on which monster I’m gonna use it.” 

You scoffed, “So you want to make someone sing for you, what about throwing more substances to that shit? Making sure you’d outplay them?”

Giving you a deadpanning look, Wednesday didn’t seem amused by your joke, “I’m merely compensating for an unpleasantly weaker physique compared to literal monsters. I thought a hunter such as yourself would understand the strategy.”

“I am,” you confirmed, “actually it’s pretty clever. You have to make up for your short height after all. But to answer your question,” you continued, not taking much of the death glare she sent you, “I think it cannot hurt too bad if you’re dosing the substance wisely. If you’re adding something that can be deadly for a monster, be sure to not put too much or else you won’t have so much monster to interrogate left.”

Wednesday nodded and crossed the room to get to the door without another word. 

“Glad to be of help!” you called out as she closed the door. She didn’t even say why she had needed the information but after all, you guessed that she knew what she was doing. 

You got your answer a little less than a week later, when a teacher stormed into the library and asked you sharply to follow them to Weems’ office. They didn’t even answer you when you asked what it was about, surprised by the apparent rush that tore you away from your studying time. Tyler exchanged a surprised look with you, lifting up his nose from his homework. 

“D’you think I should come too?” he muttered when you gathered your notebooks in your bag under the teacher’s irritated gaze. 

Shaking your head you tried to reassure yourself, “Nah, it mustn’t be that important. I’ll text you okay?”

The quick walking pace of the teacher leading you to Weems’ office seemed to say otherwise. The fact that they accompanied you made you frown in the first place, because you definitely knew how to get to the Principal’s office by yourself. Something felt off. When you arrived and swung the door open, you were welcomed by the death glare of Principal Weems and Wednesday’s usual bored expression. Funny how none of you seemed to want to be here. 

“You wanted to see me, principal Weems?” you asked carefully. 

“Enough with the pleasantries, Miss Van Helsing,” she snapped harshly, her usual politeness completely gone, “I assume you know perfectly why you are here.” 

It wasn’t often you found yourself being completely clueless about a situation, but it was definitely the case here. Furrowing your brows in confusion, you glanced back and forth between the bored looking student and the fuming principal. 

“No but for real, what am I doing here?” you repeated, slightly frustrated by the whole situation. 

Weems glared at you, her lips pressing into a thin line, “Yoko Tanaka was admitted at the hospital last night for an intoxication due to contact with vampire-toxic substances. Does that ring any bell to you?” 

Glancing at Wednesday, you only met a roll of her eyes. What the fuck did she do? No matter how surprised you were, you couldn’t help but snort. 

“Ah! So Yoko finally got what she deserves, fucking good news. Have to thank karma for this one.” 

Weems slammed her hand on her desk, not amused at all by your behavior, “This is a very serious matter, Miss Van Helsing! I’m fed up with your attitude, you’ve gotten too far by attacking another student!”

The sudden accusation made you growl and your face darken. “Wait, wait wait, hold the fuck up, I did not attack this bitch,” you snarled, pointing an accusatory finger at the Principal, “Yoko got what she fucking deserved but I have nothing to do with it, I’m not bloody stupid!” 

“Then why does your signature lie all over this?” roared Weems, her patience running short. She had spent all of her night at the hospital, alternating between the rushing reports of the doctors and the frantic calls from Yoko’s coven and the school board demanding answers. 

“What the fuck are you talking about,” you spat venomously, “why are you accusing me, uh? Because it would be so easy if you'd have me expelled again?” 

Flaring her nostrils, Weems tried to keep her composure. 

“Miss Tanaka was poisoned with extracts of refined silver dust,” she articulated, “strange how its composition is awfully similar to the bomb you used against Mr Kelswizck a few years ago.” 

“I don’t like your insinuations,” you growled, your hands gripped into tights fists. “You don’t have the slightest proof I did that to Yoko. And beside,” you added angrily nodding to the silent other student in the room, “why Wednesday’s here?” 

Weems sent a glare in the Addams’ direction. 

“Miss Addams seems to have a knack to find herself in the most ambiguous situations when it comes to crime scenes. She was the one found beside Miss Tanaka’s body.” 

“I had her tied up on the chair to avoid unwanted reactions during interrogation,” said Wednesday flatly, and you felt your jaw hit the floor. Not at Wednesday and her methods – you might actually hug her for that – but at Weems for the raging fury burning within you. 

“You mean you have someone who was found with her and who admits doing this and you’re accusing me? What the actual FUCK is wrong with you!” you screamed at the principal. 

This didn’t calm the Principal who roared even louder, “You had your every reason to hate Yoko Tanaka and we both know it! Who else could have found refined silver dust?”

“Every fucking student in the alchemy class!” you snapped, throwing your hands in the air in frustration, “god, do you even know what’s been teached in your own school?” 

This made Weems stop dead in the tracks of her next shouting, staring at you with a frown. It looked like you had made a point. As on cue, Wednesday spoke up. 

“I did in fact steal the silver dust in the alchemy lab. Now, if you two are done with your childish bickering, can we move on to the actual matter?”

The laid-back impertinence of her tone almost made you scoff and Weems’ face tainted in angry purple, until Wednesday got a filler and a recorder out of her backpack. 

“Yoko was a stalker and a bully,” she explained as Weems somehow reluctantly looked through the pieces of evidence – some print of texts, anonymous messages etc. “I started to receive those threatening messages at the end of last year and pursued my investigation here.” 

Weems’ lips were pressed into a thin line, “Those are serious allegations Miss Addams,” she said pointedly, “even if there’s some serious threats in there, I can’t caution such action on mere evidence.” 

“I got her to confess,” counter-attacked Wednesday with her usual bored tone. “Everything got recorded here.”

All your three pairs of eyes landed on the recorder on the desk. Weems didn’t seem able to say anything as her mind collected everything; you, on the other hand, made the connection with Wednesday’s strange visit in your room a few days earlier. But you sure kept that to yourself, there was no need to give more reason to suspect you. 

“I would very much prefer if this prowess could not be assigned to someone else’s credit,” noted Wednesday pointedly, “even if that failed murder is a disgrace to the Addams’ name. Shame I didn’t surdose it more.” 

Okay, if Enid and her broke up one day, you’d definitely try your chance with Wednesday Addams, that was a promise to yourself. 

For now you had more urgent matters and you turned back to Weems with a hard glare, despite the thrill of her upcoming apology. 

“I believe you have something to tell me then, Principal Weems?” you sneered, bitter irony dripping of your words. 

Licking her lips, Weems seemed hesitant to speak up. 

But then the door sprung open suddenly and all three of your heads snapped in that direction, only to see Tyler strolling unannounced in the office. 

“Mr Galpin what–”

“Y/N has nothing to do with all of this Principal Weems, you have to believe her,” he interrupted her, crossing the room in a few strides. Eyes wide, you looked at him in disbelief. You didn’t even hear the apologetic teacher on the other side of the door – surely he had tried to stop Tyler after he insisted on knowing what was going on. 

“Yoko had been found last night, right?” he carried on passionately, unaware of the bewildered looks around him. 

“Mister Galpin,” tried Weems patiently, “there’s no–”

“Y/N was with me the whole time,” he interrupted her again,  “we went to diner together, ask Ajax he’ll confirm it, and–”

“Tyler!” you called him gently but firmly, putting your hand on his arm to get his attention. He whipped his head around and met your more relaxed gaze. “It’s okay, she knows I don’t have anything to do with this. Right?” you added with a glare to the principal. 

Weems nodded slowly, very reluctantly, and cleared her throat. 

“I believe I owe you an apology, Miss Van Helsing. There may have been some misconceptions in the previous accusations.”

“No shit,” you spat. “I hope that you’ll take some serious sanctions at the bullies at Nevermore now; you’re already fucking late about it.” 

Weems sent a deadly glare in your direction, “Get out of my office, both of you.” 

It didn’t take you more to turn back and leave the room, Tyler on your side. On the way out, you gave a faint nod to Wednesday; both for not having mentioned to Weems that you somehow helped in that, and for what she had done to Yoko. Even if it was only to serve her personal interests, it sure did feel good. 

Once you were far enough from Weems’ office, you let out a long breath you had been holding up, nerves finally relaxing. The whole scene had just seemed unreal. And there was this awkward, concerned-filled silence between Tyler and you. After some time, you cleared your throat. 

“Thank you. Y’know, for coming to my defense. You didn’t have to do that.”

Of course what he had said was true; and it would have been revealed later anyway, when you would have insisted on proving your innocence (for once), and called in witnesses. But Tyler had shown up willingly, on his own, because you needed him. Not because you called, or because it was a last resort, but because you needed him. And honestly, it felt nice. 

Gently grabbing your shoulder, Tyler tugged you closer on his side so you could snuggle against him. You had never shown such a public display of affection before, but you didn’t object to it the slightest. 

“Anytime sweetheart,” he said while pressing a kiss on your forehead, “anytime.” 

[Part.6] 

A/N: okay but the truth serum thing was an idea from a tv show I saw a long time ago and a 2 minutes wikipedia research, DO NOT DO THIS AT HOME, PEOPLE (yes even if your loved one/parent/sibling/cat ate the last cookie but denies it. Take their wallet and go buy another whole cookie pack. Especially if that’s the cat’s fault, take the feline’s wallet.)

Also on a more serious note, I decided to follow the fan theory that places Yoko as Wednesday’s stalker, because it fit well for plot reasons

Next part’s teaser? The Rave’n!

Thanks everyone for reading, I hope you enjoyed this part ♥ Hope you’re all doing okay, take care of you ♥

Taglist: 

@igotanidea​ @officerrrfriendly​ @beggingforxavierthorpe​ @aliciahlewis​ @stresseyzesty​ @katiemrty​ @leightonsteele​ @black-swan-blog27​ @mooniesthings​ @nightfurya​ @steadypoetrydinosaur​

Usernames unfound by Tumblr: 

@spiceyhotsherbet

Plz tell me if I’ve forgotten you in the taglist (or if you wanna join!)

[starbase-yorktown]

OK AND NOW FOR THE OC NOVELS. LET'S TALK THE ALYMPA CHRONICLES @zzoomacroom!!! so from the age of 19 to today, I've been writing, editing and self-publishing a sci-fi fantasy YA series called the alympa chronicles. I'm 5 books in, with the final 2 in progress currently.

Elevator pitch: human abductee is rescued by galactic investigators/first responders. adventures ensue, all tied to a cat and mouse game of blood vendettas and vengeance oaths with a cold, ruthless villain who will stop at nothing to collect that which he thinks belongs to him. including said human abductee.

or: sometimes your family are your hot mess, dysfunctional alien rescuers, and blood has very little to do at all with defining the kind of person you are and the kind of person you will be. plus so many queers.

Minutes To Midnight: a relic warrior of a failed insurrection is plotting his vengeance by unleashing a genetically engineered biochemical weapon on the city that betrayed him. Rin & company are fighting to find him in time and keep this from happening, but not everything will go well. Sub-plot: beware that which we lock away within ourselves, for it thrives in the dark like a fungus until all that remains is the rotted, hollow husk of what we pretend to still be.

EXCERPT: If openly walking where one shouldn’t be were an art form, it was one Dor Prem had honed to a master’s skill.

The first step in accomplishing this feat was to believe in its most central lie: that no such place existed to start with. One was allowed and, in fact, expected to be wherever it was one was found to be.

The second step was to not believe in that lie too wholeheartedly.

Anyone who walked with too much certainty—too arrogant in their trespassing, too daring in their self-assurance—all-but broadcast their bluff to the sharper-eyed observer. Overconfidence was as much a novice’s error as anxious hesitation. Mastery lied in that tenuous balance between the two: to not look like one had something to hide or justify but also to not walk with bare-faced bravado.

One wore nondescript clothes, but not too nondescript; no one, of course, existed without personality. Identifying features were not to be flaunted but also were not to be obviously concealed, for that was likewise a give-away of ill-intent. Instead, one applied cover appro­priate to local fashion and season. A hood against a cold night was more likely to be overlooked than, say, a hood on the strips on a summer’s eve, where the air was heavy with the scent of sweat and drink and the sweet sickness of psychedelic haze. There, one was more likely to disappear with the barest of garments, one’s own skin and bone bleeding into the skin and bone of revelers to either side in an indecipherable mass.

The third step was, of course, to know one’s assignment beginning to end, inside and out, from the most obvious of details to the most granularly mundane of what one did for their non-existent mother’s birthday the year prior. Spies, insurrectionists, insurgents, the trea­sonous (so many names for the same class of traitor in the eyes of the average Ethonian) pulled from a deep well to effortlessly redirect or dispatch any obstacle to their mission and bring it to completion.

Each step, when coordinated, unfolded into the most riveting of dances, the most intricate brushwork that left only a masterpiece behind.

Ghostwalkers, they were once called. Specters. Changelings. They were the Insurgency’s most elite, infiltrators who were there one day and gone the next, convincing targets and bystanders alike that they were something they were not: trustworthy to their cause, to peace and the broken status quo, when all they desired was its razing.

The blades that cut in the night and left scores of dead to be found by the sun’s rise.

Once, ghostwalkers were renowned. They wielded respect through sheer terror of their prowess, were granted passage and sworn vows of silence from passersby who had the immense misfortune of stumbling upon their unfolding handiworks.

No longer.

Homecoming: our heroes were not paying attention to the right things; they fell right into the web, followed the baited paths, and now, it all ends. In pain, in blood, in loss, in tears, in heart-breaking sacrifice, it all ends. But perhaps, they will have caught enough of the shattering pieces to salvage something from the wreckage. Something that can keep the entire quadrant from falling to terror and death and carnage altogether.

Hello, my sweet heart. My dearest.

You are dreaming right now.

But you know my voice, warm and crackled with age. You know the touch of my hand on yours, as old and as kind as the thrako tree beneath which I am buried. You know the scent of my leathers and oils and incense.

I know you are eager. I know you are scared.

But no matter how dark what follows becomes, no matter how terrible or hopeless my children's story grows, remember this.

It all ends just so, across time and space to even you one day, as it has already come for I:

"And then, they went home."

[invictarre-archive]

@zaiyakua asked: Describe Me! / description meme

You recognise him immediately. It's something about the way he holds himself, you think - that silent strength that exudes from all elite Trainers. You've seen it in the likes of Opal and Mustard, in Raihan, in yourself, and you've learned to recognise it everywhere you go.

But even if you weren't so observant, so familiar with the body language of powerful people, you'd know without question who you were looking at.

You'd become Champion mere months after Red. It had led to no shortage of comparisons and future predictions, the League officials keen to take note of the Kanto prodigy's weaknesses and ensure that his mistakes were not repeated in you. Truth be told, you'd never paid Kanto much mind before, far too preoccupied with the roaring excitement of Galar's battle culture and preparing to seize its crown as your own, but all this talk of Red had your interest piqued.

A night researching him turned into several days, those days into a week, and soon you'd spent every night for a month reading up on the region and its important people. You'd decided that you wanted to meet Red one day, that desire only growing once you'd noticed your shared taste in ace pokemon. You decided that you were going to work through the Gyms one day, too, collecting their badges just as you'd collected Galar's.

More research had followed that decision, a careful analysis of your future competition. Fuchsia, Cerulean, Vermillion - a lot of these towns were named after colours, you liked that - Viridian...

But that last Gym had brought you more questions than answers. Its Leader had been changed recently, now a boy who couldn't have been much older than you, but there was no explanation as to why. The former Leader - Mr. Giovanni Sakaki, a stern-looking man whose expression you'd found difficult to read - had apparently been there years, only to disappear at the eleventh hour. There'd been no official statement of resignation, as far as you could tell. No announcement. He was just... gone.

If you hadn't been fascinated before, you certainly were now.

The library had been bled dry, the internet largely unhelpful, and yet you still had so many questions left unanswered. Every attempt to bring him up was brushed aside or met with vague remarks that 'everything has to change eventually, child' or 'you're better off keeping your focus on Galar, young man', only adding to your frustration. You were a Champion now, just as responsible as any grown up! Why did these people insist on never talking to you like one?

But it was no problem; you knew how to get the answers you wanted. Going to the Chairman was a total waste of time, earning you nothing but a shoo from the room and a reminder that good Champions stay out of affairs that don't concern them, but not everyone was quite so keen to shut down your interest. One of the handymen for Wyndon Stadium was Kantonian, the one with the Machoke, and he was more than happy to tell you everything he knew.

He wasn't a battler, so his experience was unfortunately limited, but nonetheless you'd learned a lot during those conversations.

You'd learned that Blaine liked quizzes, a bit like Ms. Opal. You'd learned about Erika and her penchant for cute Grass types. You'd learned more about Red, about the similarities you'd shared with him and the differences that kept you separate.

You'd learned about Giovanni. You'd learned that he was strong, just like you'd suspected, the last Gym Leader in the circuit and the final hurdle separating challengers from the Elite Four. You thought you remembered reading that he'd been part of the Elite Four, before; you'd wondered how that differed from the role of Gym Leader, of Champion. You'd learned that he was a Ground specialist, a type of Trainer you didn't currently have in Galar's Major League. Some said he'd been the strongest Trainer in Kanto before Red had hit the scene. Some said he'd been the strongest Trainer in the world, something you took great exception to.

You'd learned, to your great disappointment, that he'd stepped down from the Viridian Gym around the same time you'd been busy winning the Champion Cup, and had yet to show any intention to return.

You'd frowned and asked the nice, Kantonian handyman where Giovanni was now. You'd asked why someone would leave their Gym so suddenly, when they'd clearly had such a passion for battling. Hadn't it been fun? It was most people's dream to become a strong Trainer, how could he abandon it?

The handyman had laughed, standing up and brushing off the back of his legs. You'll have to ask him that yourself, should you ever meet. But sometimes, he'd said, you need to leave one dream to pursue another.

That had been eleven years ago. You're older now, and all too familiar with the feeling of needing to leave, no matter how much you might love your current position. How many times did you flee to Galar's skies, desperate for even a single moment of peace? How many times did you feel the weight of your responsibilities upon your shoulders, the pressure to stay strong even as the cracks began to show? Just because you hadn't resigned didn't mean you'd never seen the appeal of it.

You never did get a concrete reason why Giovanni left the Kanto League. You're not going to ask, either. You don't intend to squander this chance to finally meet someone who'd interested you for so long, not when there's too many other, better questions waiting on the tip of your tongue.

(First one being: Do you still accept challenges, sir?)

[murderbirds]

To Claim my rightful place pt.3

'BREAKING NEWS! GOTHAM'S CHAMPION GOES INSANE, KILLS OWN MOTHER AND TRIES TO KILL CEO OF GALAVAN ENTERPRISES!'

Edward read on the screen of one of the monitors of the subway as he made his way back home. It had been three weeks since he had moved to Gotham city. After graduating as top of his class, Edward was hired by the international police as a forensic scientist and had been assigned to what was considered by most to be the worst city in the world.

The people who thought that didn't know his father.

Sure, the people in this city weren't exactly friendly, however, if you stuck to yourself and didn't look like a target, they would leave you alone for the most part. Edward continued reading the news. 'Champion Oswald Cobblepot, who took over his position after the mysterious disappearance of the previous Champion Fish Mooney and the resignation Champion Carmine Falcone eight months ago was recorded stabbing his own mother to death this Friday morning after a battle against CEO of Galavan enterprises, Theo Galavan, who has been restoring historical buildings all over the region. Cobblepot then tried to harm Galavan along with his sister for reasons yet unknown.'

In all truth, Ed could relate with the feeling of wanting to stab one's own parent. He had read about the Champion before, a man who wasn't very popular, but had somehow managed to reach his position without a single legendary pokemon despite the entire elite four being full with them. It was quite impressive. Ed had hoped to meet the man one day. Now, that seemed quite unlikely.

Once the train stopped and he got out into the dark night, his mind wandered to what he should make for dinner to himself and Ogerpon.

Her pokeball was always with him in case he needed it, however Gotham had a strict no wandering pokemon rules in public spaces. He did let her out while alone in lab, but there wasn't much else he could could do outside, so he made up for it with the tastiest food he could find.

He was suddenly interrupted by the sound of something dropping. The forensic scientist looked around and fixed his glasses. There was nothing there, no human, no pokemon. Just darkness and an empty street.

Another noise, now closer to something getting dragged. Now Ed knew it for sure, it was coming from the park across the street.

The brunette swallowed and, with shaky hands, flashed his phone towards it. He only managed to catch sight of the footprints left behind. Did those belong to an empoleon? Those weren't pokemon found in the park nor in Gotham's general area.

Before he could dwell on it longer, ogerpon got out of its pokeball and hopped over the park's fence before Ed could even think twice. "Wait! Ogerpon!" It was too late. She was already off into the darkness. "Shit!" Ed cursed and began following after her. He called and beg for his partner to return for no avail.

Was this punishment for all the time he kept her in the pokeball? He didn't want to, the man simply had no choice! It was the rules and he couldn't break them, even if he didn't agree with them, right? He saw Ogerpon walking inside an abandoned house and sighed with relief.

"Ogerpon, please! I'm sorry! I-I will buy you whatever you want- oh my arceus!" The empoleon was also inside the house along with another man. The man was covered in mud and dry blood from the injury on his shoulder. He looked pale and thin with deep eyes and drenched in sweat. The man was none other than the champion, even if he lacked his make up covering his freckles and product causing his short black hair to be spiky. He looked so fragile, unlike the person he saw on television.

Their eyes met for a moment, foam green on dark brown and two words left the shorter man's lips as a whisper, "h-help me." And with that, he fell unconscious. This man was, supposedly a murderer, the leader of an evil team. He should have called the international police, leave him to face his crimes. That was what he should have done. But the man had ask for his help and he simply couldn't say no.

1-2-3 (you're here)-4-5-6-7-8

Full story

[rocorambles]

Possession

Pairing: Kuroo x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Yandere, Yakuza/Gang AU, Forced/Arranged Marriage, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Humiliation, Forced Food Play, Threatened Pet Play, Implied/Hinted Infidelity, Possessive Behavior

Summary: You learn the hard way just how possessive Kuroo Tetsurou is of his belongings.

You don’t know much about Kuroo Tetsurou other than the fact that he’s an objectively attractive man and that he isn’t the normal wealthy businessman that he pretends to be. It’s practically a widely known “secret” that he’s the heir of an elite Yakuza family.

But never in your life would you have ever thought you would become entangled with such a dangerous man and you vaguely wonder if this is what a deer in headlights feels like as you’re petrified when he and his entourage rudely barge into your home out of the blue one day.

“Marry me and I’ll clear your family’s debts.”

You’re not naive enough to be unaware of the gambling, alcohol, and drug addictions that your father and brother are guilty of and you’re not stupid enough to think that Kuroo is really giving you a choice. His words are law and yet you still feel betrayed after the decades that Nekoma had left you alone, knowing there was nothing to gain from threatening you or using you as leverage against your scumbag family members who could care less about you and your fate. So why focus their attention on you now?

Kuroo is not a good man, but he considers himself a fair man. You reap what you sow. And it’s why he had left you alone, only relentlessly hounding your father and brother to pay back their accumulated debts. You don’t mean a thing to him, but internal politics have forced his hand. He doesn’t necessarily believe in love, but he had thought he would have found some woman to marry and bear an heir for him. Turns out even that bare minimum is hard to find and he scoffs at the memories of money hungry vixens, spies of other Yakuza families sent to seduce him, and countless other worthless whores who had sought his attention.

But he has no choice but to announce a wife soon per family protocol and to show that the Kuroo lineage will continue strongly and you’re the only woman he can think of who has no ulterior motive against him, who has no family or friends who will or can do anything to stop him. He knows everything about you after years of having your father and brother in his debt and you’re the safest bet to get the job done. Just another poor soul left abandoned in a sketchy part of town that will seemingly disappear from existence with few if any raised brows or questions.

You don’t really know what to expect as Kuroo Tetsurou’s fiance and you brace yourself for unwanted caresses, fake proclamations of love, maybe even being bound to his bed until your marriage. But none of the above ever happens and you’re surprisingly hurt and wary of how cold and disinterested he acts towards you, practically ignoring your existence and barely uttering any words or even looking at you when the two of you happen to cross paths.

You’re nothing more than a means to an end and you can’t help but feel humiliated as he casually tosses expensive clothing, bags, and jewelry your way. It’s clear he sees you as nothing more than a glorified doll or pet, something he can just throw money at and call it a day. And it only becomes more obvious that you’re just something for him to possess when he clips a gorgeous, almost ostentatious diamond necklace around your neck at your official engagement party. It’s beautiful, but you see past the pretty sparkles, see it for the collar it actually is, for the sign of his ownership of you.

But as much as you hate the weight of it around your neck, as suffocated as you feel with every second it lays wrapped around you, you know better than to remove it and you grimace at the flicker of appraisal you see in hazel eyes whenever Kuroo’s gaze lingers on the extravagant strand.

Yet you wonder if it would have been better if he had kept his distance, if you should have been grateful for how he kept you at arm’s length despite his unspoken possessiveness. Loneliness is better than the fear and violation you feel on your wedding night as Kuroo pins you to the bed, barely a flicker of emotion on his face other than a sigh and a low groan every now and then as he robotically pistons in and out of you, the sheer size of his cock spearing you open and the feeling of being used little more than a breeding hole bringing tears to your eyes. And when he pulls out after dutifully staining your womb, he silently turns to his side, his back facing you, not a single touch, word, or even a glance in your direction.

Night after night it’s the same. The only relief you have is the way your body molds to his form, the way you’re literally being trained to take Kuroo’s shaft at a moment’s notice. At worst you can just lay there and take it. At best if you really close your eyes and imagine apathetic hazel eyes replaced with a loving gaze, you can even feel pleasure. But it always ends the same and you curl into yourself, burrowing under luxurious linens in search of some semblance of comfort when Kuroo immediately separates himself from you after stuffing you full of his seed.

You’ve never felt more relieved than when you see the positive results on your pregnancy test and although it’s lonely being utterly ignored again and untouched as Kuroo avoids you like the plague with his duty to his clan now complete, you know this is the better option. In a way life almost seems normal as you’re given more freedom and privileges to leave the compound to go on walks and shopping trips. The perks of being the mother of a prestigious clan’s heir you suppose and other than the entourage of bodyguards that surround and trail you, you enjoy yourself as you slowly take back your life.

Kuroo never visits you or talks to you other than the occasional shared meal and event the two of you need to attend for appearance sake. And despite the gold band around your ring finger and your growing stomach, it’s easy to forget that you have a husband, that you’re a taken woman, especially when none of this was ever really your choice. Maybe that’s why when the cashier of the cafe you visit almost on a daily basis for a pastry begins to become fond of you, sneaking free desserts to you, showering you with smiles and small talk, insisting on sitting with you and keeping you company on his breaks, you let him.

There’s not even an ounce of guilt or a single thought of Kuroo as you bask in the worker’s attention, heart fluttering and warming at the idea of someone genuinely caring for you and liking you. After all you don’t plan on letting this ever evolve into anything outside the cafe doors and don’t you deserve to be loved? To be treated like a woman? To daydream about a romance you never got to have?

You don’t think Kuroo would care much even if he did find out and you’re sure he’s too busy playing with the countless bodies that warm his bed every night he spends away from you.

Oh how wrong you are.

Being raised as an only child means Kuroo’s never had to share his belongings much and as he’s grown older, he’s found he doesn’t much like sharing. And you’re no exception. So when one of your bodyguards sends him a photo of you smiling, eyes sparkling as you look at the cafe worker sitting across from you and when he sees the look of desire in the employee’s eyes, jealousy tears through him.

He knows it’s unwarranted, that you had practically been forced to bear his name, his child. But hasn’t he provided for you? Hasn’t he gifted you anything you could possibly want and more? Doesn’t he ensure that you’re fed with the finest ingredients and dishes money can buy? And you dare spit in his face and directly betray him like this? Flirting with another man when you’re stuffed full of his child?

“Clear my schedule for the week and make sure I’m not disturbed. I’m going to be spending some quality time with my dear wife.”

Sweet words, but the tone they’re spoken in is anything but and the hard glint in hazel eyes betrays that you won’t be enjoying your alone time with your husband.

Your eyes are heavy with sleep when your bedroom door suddenly slams open. Terrified, you shoot up into a seated position, eyes rapidly blinking to erase the bleariness as you look to see who’s intruded at such a late hour, only for your heart to pound even harder and faster when you realize it’s your husband.

“Kuroo, I- I didn’t expect you tonight-”

You jolt, cowering when you’re cut off by your door slamming shut, the sound of Kuroo turning the lock and trapping both of you inside almost deafening in the silence. And then you’re pinned to the bed by hazel eyes fiercely glaring at you, trying to somehow sink into the cushioned surface as your husband stalks towards you, discarding his clothes piece by piece along the way.

“When you signed the contract regarding our agreement, you forfeited your life over to me. When you signed our marriage license, you became mine and mine alone. Correct?”

You hesitantly nod.

“And that’s my child growing inside of you, isn’t it?”

Again you shakily nod.

“Since we’re on the same page on all of that, what makes you think it’s okay to blatantly flirt with another man? To entice someone and flaunt yourself at someone who clearly desires you?”

Your heart sinks and you’re stuttering, mouth trying to form words and failing as Kuroo finally reaches the edge of your mattress, slamming his arms on either side of your head, hovering over you, a knee strategically placed between your thighs.

“Maybe I should just keep you chained to my bed.”

You see red, not thinking straight as you froth and rave. Anxiety, desperation, and hopelessness at his words has you lashing out in any way you can and Kuroo looks on amused as you hiss venomous words at him like a cornered animal who realizes there’s no way out. He patiently waits, gazing down at you as you shout at him, asking him why he even cares what you do in your free time when he just ignores you all the time, when he practically pretends you don’t exist, when you’re sure he’s been warming his bed with more than enough partners to make up for the lack of intimacy between you two.

And when you’re done, chest heaving, mouth panting as you try to catch your breath after your tirade, he mockingly coos down at you, a smirk playing on his lips as he places a chaste kiss to your lips, laughing when you flinch at the physical contact.

“You’re right, sweetheart. You don’t mean a thing to me. But you do belong to me and I don’t share my belongings. Honestly it just sounds like you missed me. Is that why you decided to act like a whore? Because you were lonely? Well then, let me fix that and remind you exactly who owns you.”

You flail, hands shoving against Kuroo’s chest, legs and knees attempting to kick up and out at anything they can reach. But it’s of no use and Kuroo just chuckles as he easily pins you down, taunting you with saccharinely sweet reminders to behave and relax. “After all, you don’t want to harm the life growing inside of you, right?” You freeze at his words, hands protectively wrapping around your stomach and he coldly smiles.

“Good girl. Now let me give you that attention you were so desperate for.”

Looking back, you think you prefer the cold, indifferent way Kuroo had fucked his seed into you, treating you as little more than something to breed, to ensure his claim as heir. At least there was no pretense that it was anything more than that, more than an obligation on both your ends.

This feels too passionate, too tangible and your face and body heat at the hungry look in hazel eyes, the possessiveness in his hold. You can feel the imaginary noose of his ownership over you tightening as he takes his time to explore every inch of you with his tongue, teeth, and hands, can feel his smirks as he pinpoints and maps all your weak points, exploiting them until you’re moaning and writhing underneath him. You try to deny him the pleasure of seeing you fall apart because of him, but it’s no use and humiliated tears fill your eyes as he intently stares at you as his fingers curl in and out of you, his thumb toying with your clit, his mouth sucking a pert nipple, a self-satisfied smug expression evident on his face as your back arches and you climax around his fingers, convulsing and trembling as he doesn’t stop even after you’ve come back down, driving you into overstimulation.

You can’t keep track of how many times he’s had you falling over the edge, how many orgasms he’s forced out of you. It’s dizzying how easily he goes back and forth between fucking you rough and fast, treating you like a filthy sex toy to bend and break as he pleases, to gently but thoroughly making love to you in a mockery of true physical intimacy between lovers. You fade in and out of consciousness, falling asleep and waking up to the feeling of his mouth, his fingers, his cock thrusting in and out of every hole, the taste and feeling of thick seed heavy in your mouth, your cunt, your ass, all over your body.

Hours pass. Days pass. It’s all a blur of humiliation and pleasure as you’re forced to eat your meals in lewd ways, only allowed to eat off his body or out of his hands, threatened to be forced fed out of a dog bowl if you don’t stop resisting. Everything is closely monitored by your husband, every trip to the bathroom, every shower and bath not taken without your husband pressed against you, his hands and mouth lingering on you in some shape or form. And then a week is done and you can’t even feel or think, body exhausted, mind broken as your naked figure lays sprawled across your bed, barely registering the tender kiss Kuroo presses against your lips as he dresses and readies himself to return to business.

You gratefully wait for his footsteps to recede, for the sound of your bedroom door closing behind his exit, for the peace of finally being left alone. But you should have known that it would be too good to be true for this to be completely over and you quietly sob at his parting words.

“I’ll make sure to be a better husband and give my poor lonely wife all the attention she wants and more. You’ll never be lonely ever again, sweetheart.”

You flinch at the cruel laughter that follows his mocking, not even having to look up to see the pleased sneer on his face as he finally leaves you to wallow in your despair.

[mass-piplup-outbreak]

Shauntal is an unusual sight at the Battle Subway, even on the busiest of days. Emmet has only met her a handful of times, usually in passing. It’s been at least a year since the last time he saw her, he thinks it might have been some League conference Elesa had asked him to attend with her.

So to battle such a revered member of the Elite Four, who usually had her head stuck in her notebooks, was a rare treat for Emmet.

Instead, Shauntal took one look at Emmet and said, “I didn’t realize you had a shadow.”

At first, Emmet thought she was talking about Ingo’s Chandelure, which had taken to following him around as of late. But, it quickly became apparent that whatever Shauntal saw, it was much different than a Pokémon. She couldn’t be certain, but she thought it might be a spirit of some sort.

Which was how Emmet and Shauntal found themselves where they are now. In Emmet’s office that he used to share with Ingo, right after the Battle Subway closed for the day. After a quick trip home, she had brought a blank notebook and a specially made pen back with her.

“It’s supposed to be easier for ghost-types to carry,” she explains. “I don’t see why it wouldn’t work for a spirit.”

It’s at that moment that Ingo realizes what they're doing.

Shauntal places the pen on top of the notebook, which is laid out on the floor in front of them. “How long have you been a spirit?” she asks the open air. Emmet sits next to her, nervously pulling at the edges of his right glove.

Ingo isn’t sure at first if he should entertain this. Nobody has acknowledged his presence for years, and he isn’t sure that he remembers how to be seen. If not in a literal sense, then a metaphorical one.

“Come on,” Shauntal encourages him. “Think of it as Emmet getting to know you.”

Ingo has the distinct feeling that Emmet already knows everything there is to know about him, but...

But...

When he looks at Emmet,  Ingo can’t help but feel... lost. Like there’s something he should remember, but it’s behind some door he doesn’t have the key to. He’s pretty sure they’re related in some way, if their near-identical appearances are anything to go by. However, Ingo doesn’t think he’s experiencing deja vu each and every time he sees Emmet. There’s something familiar about him, something besides his face.

Maybe that’s why he’s here. Maybe Emmet is the missing key.

Ingo picks up the pen with much more effort than he’d like to admit. He’s pretty sure that Emmet gasps, but he’s a bit more focused trying to remember how to hold a pen, especially one that seems to sap the strength right out of whatever’s left of him. As carefully as he can, he writes out his answer.

A long time

“Would you look at that,” Shauntal remarks, but Emmet’s too busy staring at the shaky letters on the page. He keeps blinking, as though they’ll disappear at any second. “And how did you die, exactly?”

Well, Ingo thinks that one’s rather rude.

Hurt.

“An unfortunate death,” Shauntal says.

“Why are you following me?” Emmet suddenly asks. “What do you want from me?”

Ingois shaking now, but not out of fear. There’s a numb, buzzing sensation in his hand that’s slowly spreading up his arm. Chandelure whispers something behind him, but he pays it no mind.

Know, he writes. Remember.

“How long have you been following Emmet?” Shauntal resumes her questioning.

Months.

"Just one more question, for now,” Shauntal assures him. Maybe she can see that he’s barely keeping himself together. “What is your name?”

I

The pen falls from Ingo’s hand before he can finish. He feels like he’s unraveling, like whatever’s left of him is about to fade into nothing. He leans back into Chandelure, and from just that brief contact, a ghostly chill spreads through his body. It grounds him, calms and stills his frenzied nerves. When Ingo opens his eyes, Emmet is staring straight at the notebook, at the letter “I”.

“Ingo?” he says, almost as if he doesn’t believe it himself. “Is that you?”

[ragingbookdragon]

I'm Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 3

Batfamily x Batsis Story!

Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst! Tags!: @itsnottilly @cloudyskylines

Author's Note: DUN DUN DUN!!!! Y'all enjoy this now, because it's only gonna get so much more angstier soon. -Thorne

Set Three Months After PT. 2:

She didn’t have to look up to know who entered the shop, because his voice carried over the air. “Melisandre!”

Humming, she immediately plated a pastry and a hot coffee, sliding it on the counter just as he sat down. “Good morning, Wally,” she greeted, watching him take a bite. “Right on time, as always.”

He smiled, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. “Morming Merisamdmur,” he replied, and she rolled her eyes with a snort.

“Jeez Wally, didn’t your mom teach you to not talk with your mouth full?”

Shrugging, he swallowed and said, “I was trying to be polite.”

“I think it’s more polite to chew with your mouth closed and speak after you swallow.”

They glared at each other before one of them cracked a smile and they fell into laughter. She tossed a napkin his way. “How’s your day going so far?”

Wally groaned and laid his head on the cool marble countertop. “I’ve got so much to do today, it’s not even funny.”

“Well, well, Wally the procrastinator is finally feeling his toes at the fire, huh?” She ignored his glare. “What do you have to do?”

“Barry needs my help with my cousins and my friends are coming over today to hangout and I haven’t bought any food or drinks for that and I have yet to even start cleaning my house.”

She giggled and reached over, patting his head sympathetically. “There, there, Wally. Everything will be alright. Why don’t you just bring your cousins over to your house and watch them while you hang out with your friends?”

“Because my cousins are annoying and I’m not subjecting my friends to that,” he countered and propped his chin on his palm. “Unless…”

She cocked a brow and waited for him to continue and he offered, “You come over with my cousins and help me watch them?”

“No.”

“What! Why?”

“Well for starters, I don’t know your friends and it would be weird for me to just show up.” She countered.

“They’ll like you though!” he cried, and his hand shot out, wrapping around hers. “Please, Melisandre!”

“Wally, I’ll just watch your cousins at my apartment and Iris can just come get them later, that’ll be easier and won’t force me to sit in a group of people who don’t know me.” He tried to speak but she tossed another napkin, hitting him in the face. “I’m watching Dawn and Don so you and your friends can hang out without being bothered, and that’s final.”

His face pinched. “You sure you can keep up with them?”

Something passed between them and she quirked a brow. “I can keep up with you, can’t I, Wally?”

Wally chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, that’s a fair point.” He glanced at her. “They would like you though.”

She ignored the comment in favor of, “Tell me about them. What are they like?”

He inhaled sharply and took a moment to think. “Donna’s strong willed, Roy’s loud, Lilith likes to get in your head, Garth is easy to annoy, and Dick’s kinda the glue that keeps us together.”

“Dick? He get that from Richard by asking nicely?”

Wally barked a laugh. “Oh, I’m definitely gonna tell him you said that.” He nodded. “But yeah, his name is Richard Grayson, but he goes by Dick.”

Her eyes almost bulged out of her head and she was lucky that Wally was looking at his watch then.

Don’t ask. Don’t do it. Leave it alone.

But she couldn’t stop herself.

“Richard Grayson?” she feigned. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

Wally met her eyes. “Bruce Wayne.”

She snapped her fingers. “Right! The ward.” Wiping the counter, she added, “I heard they added a new addition to that family too. A daughter, right? Cassie? Cassidy?”

“Cassandra,” Wally corrected. “Yeah, that’s Dick’s new sister.” He put his elbows on the counter. “She’s nice, doesn’t talk a lot though.”

“The quiet one, then?”

He laughed. “Of them all.”

Don’t dig any deeper, (Y/N). Keep your fucking mouth shut and let it go.

“I always wondered what happened to that other daughter he had,” she murmured, and Wally’s face blanched like he’d witnessed a murder.

“What?”

She met his gaze. “He had another daughter. I think her name was (Y/N).”

He swallowed thickly. “He does.”

“Does? She’s still around?”

“Yeah, she’s in some Italian villa.”

“Wait really? I thought she died or something?”

“What? No! She left—” Wally snapped his mouth shut like he was about to reveal a secret, but she knew anyways. “She left and went to Europe for a mental retreat.” He finalized and she wondered if that was the story Dick told him to say if anyone asked. Or maybe it was Bruce.

“It’s been like three years now, right? You’d think she’d post something on social media.”

“The whole point of a mental retreat, Melisandre, is to get away from social media.”

Oh please, I know plenty of elite who do that shit and still post crap on their socials.

“There’s no way that girl hasn’t.”

“Why do you say that?”

She scoffed. “Oh please, she’s the daughter of a multi-billionaire. There’s no way a girl that wears Gucci belts and carries Prada purses keeps herself off social media.”

Wally’s eyes narrowed like he was thinking hard about something and she internally cursed.

Oh, smooth move you dumbass.

She coughed and waved a hand. “Well, it’s all theory anyway.”

After a moment, he nodded. “Yeah…theory.” Wally got to his feet and handed her the empty plate. “I should go ahead and get back to my place and clean up before they get here.”

“Have fun,” she smiled, and he grabbed her arm.

“Take a pic with me.”

“What? Why?”

“So, I can tell my friends about you and prove I’m not lying.” He pouted. “Pretty please, Melisandre?”

Don’t do it. Dick will know. You know he’ll know.

She smiled despite her internal thoughts. “Sure.”

Wally grinned and raised the camera where she was in the background. She threw up a peace sign and gave a cheesy grin, momentarily blinded by the flash of the camera.

She spun and filled a bag with pastries then handed it to him. “Here, so you can give even more proof.”

Wally took the bag and hopped onto the counter, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Thanks Melisandre!” And he was dashing out the door.

You’ve ruined it all. This is going to come back to bite you in the ass. And it’s going to come quicker than you think.

She frowned and wiped down the counter again, trying to ignore her thoughts. Maybe. Just maybe, it wouldn’t.

***

Waving Barry and Iris off, she smiled as the twins climbed into the backseat of their car and the taillights signaled their departure. She closed the door behind her and glanced at the mess the two tornadoes had left. Even for the little she had in her apartment, they sure did know how to make a mess.

She sighed as she bent over to pick up one of the cushions when her doorbell rang and she stood up, confusion coming over her as she made her way to the door.

“Hello?” she asked, and a muffled voice echoed from the other side.

“Melisandre, it’s me, Wally. Can I come in?”

She opened the door, surprised to see him. “Wally? What are you doing here? I thought you were with your friends?”

“Yeah, I told them I had to do something really quickly,” he said as entered her apartment. He took a moment to examine her living room. “Man, Dawn and Don did a number here, didn’t they?”

She chuckled. “We had fun building forts.” Nudging him in the side, she added, “I don’t mind the mess.” She looked at him. “Do your friends know? About you being…you know?”

He nodded. “We’re all special in some way.”

Understatement there, Wally.

“So, why tell them you need to do something then come to me? Is everything alright?”

Busying herself with the couch cushions, she waited for him to explain, but nothing could’ve prepared her for his words.

“It will be once I get to the bottom of it…(Y/N).” She froze for a split second, but it was all he needed. “It really is you, isn’t it?”

(Y/N) stood upright and gazed at him. “When did you know?” Her voice was a lot colder than she meant for it to be.

“I had suspicion for a while, but when I showed the picture to everyone, Dick said it looked like you.”

“Really?” she laughed. “I thought I did a good job changing my appearance from three years ago.”

Wally didn’t laugh, he merely gaped at her. “Why?”

“Why what?” (Y/N) knew what he was referring to.

“Why’d you just leave?” He took a step towards her. “Do you have any idea what your family has gone through since you disappeared on them? The grief? The shame?”

She shrugged. “I explained everything in the letter I wrote my dad, Wally. There’s no reason why they should still be concerned with me.”

“They love you!” he shouted, taking her by surprise. “They love and miss you so much!”

“My family ignored me for eighteen years straight, Wally!” She yelled right back. “What was I supposed to do? Sit and pretend being forgotten was all normal?!” (Y/N) couldn’t help but shove at his chest. “I chose to leave because my next choice was taking a swan dive off Wayne Enterprises!”

His eyes went wide, and she shook her head. “I left because the only person who cared about me, was me.” She turned and fixed the final couch cushion while he watched her do so.

“They’re still looking for you, you know. Dick is always staring at his phone hoping there’s a text from Jason or Tim that they’ve found a sign of you.”

(Y/N) sighed. “If you’re trying to guilt trip me, Wally, it’s not going to work.” She shot him a glare. “I got over the fucking guilt the second the flight to Central took off. I got over the fucking guilt the night I laid in a hotel room bed curled into a ball where I cried myself to sleep. I got over the fucking guilt the moment I realized I’ve done so much better on my own than when I was there.”

She marched up to him and got in his face. “I got over the fucking guilt when I realized Barry and Iris Allen were more of a family than four brothers and dad ever were.”

They glared at each other and finally, she let out a sigh. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve already started a new life here and I have no plans of ever going back.”

“At a college that doesn’t have a real name. You know that’s illegal, right?”

(Y/N) scoffed. “What’re you gonna do, Wally? March into four-C and tell them Bruce Wayne’s daughter is going to school under a false name? We both know you wouldn’t.”

“I’ll tell Dick,” he suddenly shot back, and she went rigid.

“You wouldn’t dare,” (Y/N) threatened and he took a step towards her, getting nose to nose with her.

“Try me.”

They stared one another down and she said, “I think you need to leave, Wally West.”

His eyes narrowed. “Yeah, I guess I should.” He spun on his heel and marched to the door, but stopped when she questioned,

“Are you really going to tell him?”

Wally gazed at the ground for a moment then he murmured, “…No…it’s not my place to.”

(Y/N) swallowed and nodded. “Thank yo—”

“Don’t thank me, (Y/N). I’m lying to my best friend about knowing the real location of his baby sister he misses dearly.”

She looked away. “Cassandra is his baby sister now. He should focus on her.”

“You really have no idea about what they feel for you, do you, (Y/N)?” He asked, and she grunted.

“Get out, Wally.”

“Don’t worry, I’m gone,” he spat, slamming the door behind him, hard enough that it shook the walls that held the doorframe.

(Y/N) stared at the door for a few moments then cursed sharply and collapsed onto her couch, eyes directed to the ceiling. Three years down the drain in one conversation.

Way to go, (Y/N). You did a spectacular job of keeping it all under wraps.

She groaned and picked herself off the couch, not caring about the mess as she headed to bed. She’d deal with it all in the morning.

[waiting-for-motivation]

the night we met

summary: On his hunt for his brothers, Crosshair has to face his love who helped the Bad Batch. His orders are explicit. He has to kill (Y/n).

pairing: Crosshair x Reader

warnings: all the angst you can imagine, major character death, blood

words: 875

a/n: dont ask what I was thinking sorry not sorry

MASTERLIST REQUEST RULES

“You follow them! I will take care of her!“

The command is harsh and rough. His voice has changed. Once it became softer when he was close to her but right now it seems to harden. In the past he would have taken off his helmet to show her a smile but right now Crosshair looks more like a clanker.

“Cross! You are not yourself. Let me help you“, (Y/n) screams over the purring of the rain. The elite squad troopers leave their leader behind and soon disappear behind the line of trees to hunt down the Bad Batch.

A quick glance tells Crosshair that his past friend has only one weapon - a small knife he got her to defend herself. But the memory of this present is fogged. Just like every other memory with his beloved cyar‘ika as well as his brothers.

“Come back to me“, (Y/n) whispers as she takes a step forward to be closer to the one she loves. The modulator of Crosshairs helmet absorbs it over the falling droplets of rain. His heart aches, but his head tells him another story. He has direct orders from Tarkin.

Kill Clone Force 99 and whoever decides to help these deserters.

“Cross. Please“, (Y/n) breaths as her secret boyfriend raises his rifle. The barrel of the blaster stares at her merciless. Crosshair moves one finger to the trigger but hesitates. He remembers her. He remembers every moment he ever shared with her. He can almost see her the night they met, with a flower in her hair and the pretties smile on her lips. He remembers (Y/n).

The blaster falls to the muddy ground. Crosshair reaches for his love but stops the second he realizes his hands are shaking. His hands never shake. That is why he is the sniper. Why are his hands shaking? Why is he disobeying orders? Good soldiers follow orders.

“Everything is alright. I‘m here. No one is going to hurt you“, (Y/n) says softly and places both her hands on the cold as well as wet cheeks of Crosshairs helmet. One of his hands grabs the fabric of her shirt tightly. The snipers breathing evens because of his cyar‘ikas words. She always knew what to say to calm him.

Carefully (Y/n) removes the helmet from Crosshairs head and smiles at him. His expression shows her pain. Rain mixes with tears. The dark gray helmet meets the ground next to the discarded rifle with a thud.

“I have no control over my thoughts nor my actions“, Cross explains with a desperate voice and nestles his cheek against the hand placed there. Her skin is as soft as he remembers.

“Focus on me“, (Y/n) demands and moves a little closer to her beloved clone. Their eyes meet and Crosshair takes her in. The rain drenched her clothes as well as hair. Still she looks gorgeous and makes his heart falter. She is his cyar‘ika.

“I remember you. I remember the night we met“, Crosshair tells (Y/n) with a hidden smile on his lips. His brown eyes shine at the memory. “You were wearing a dress, a pretty dress. I was drunk and flirted with you but instead of pushing me away you helped me find my brothers. I never told you that I fell in love with you right away. I love you cyar‘ika!“

Both smile at each other with tears streaming over their cheeks. (Y/n) moves as close as possible to Crosshair and finally presses her lips against his, followed by sweet nothings and professions of love. The kiss is wet because of the rain and their tears but bears so much affection.

“We can fix this. Your brothers...“, (Y/n) starts to promise after their lips part. And then everything changes. Crosshair takes his hands off her and even takes a step backwards with something shinny in his hands. (Y/n)s belt is lighter.

“My brothers are traitors“, Crosshair hisses in a harsh tone and frowns at the one he loves. How dare she betray him like that?

Then the clone remembers his orders. And good soldiers follow orders, so he rams the knife into (Y/n)s stomach. She takes a shaky breath and stares at her beloved sniper. But not with hate. With love and under understanding.

“Not your fault, Cross“, (Y/n) whispers. Before her injured body can touch the muddy ground, Crosshair catches her. Realization hits him. He hurt his cyar‘ika.

“Please. Stay with me. You are all that I have left“, Crosshair says. In despair, he presses both his hands to the stomach wound, but it has no use. Blood paints his gloves. The rain puddle underneath (Y/n) turns red. But the worst is the blood coming out of (Y/n)s mouth, painting her lips red.

“Remember, Cross, I always loved you“, she tells the sniper as she takes her last breath and her right hand falls from Crosshairs cheek. Now she feels cold in his grasp, so he presses her closer to himself, hiding his face in her neck.

“Take me back to the night we met, cyar‘ika!“, Crosshair speaks in a whisper which is followed by a bloodcurdling scream.

taglist: @lightning-wolffe @gwenebear @skippyhopperwisdom @jojos-trooper

[jangofctts]

Mirrored Heart (captain rex x fem!reader)

rated: 18+ explicit 

word count: 5.6k

warnings: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, fingering, blow jobs, clone space racism?  

a/n: ANYWAY HERE IT IS. ive had this draft saved since like a year ago and just now finished it. anyway kwjrkejh here YALL GO. also thank you @jango-fettish​ FOR LETTING ME BORROW SYRENA 

It's curious. 

Well, you, as a whole are curious—completely outside the realm of what Rex considers normal. As far as senators go, that is. 

You're grumpy for one—worse than Skywalker and far more snide than Kenobi—a near gargantuan task bordering impossible. Wit and cleverness come to you easier than breathing, but it's your unwavering kindness towards himself and his brothers that sticks out like a blaster burn against alabaster white walls.  

He passed it off as a joke—some sort of mockery. Rex’s existence has been full of them. The past year it’s been made glaringly clear as to what the clones are to the people of the republic—tools. Mindless war machines dressed with flesh and bone, heart and sinew instead of durasteel and a circuitboard. Humanity has been skimmed over with excuses and debates over the hollow argument that clones were created for the sole purpose of war—nothing more. Ignorance is bliss when you are not the one fighting tooth and nail for petty skirmishes and the survival of your family.        

Ithyea, your home monarchal planet, is a newer member of the Galatic Republic—one of the firsts to advocate for clone rights—cutting through each argument with the steel headed javelin of hope and determination. Controversial in the eyes of the galaxy but no less than true. Yet with controversy, comes chaos. 

Wedged between Takodana and the Cerean Reach hyperspace lane—it’s an essential key to accessing more neutral space sectors without stepping on any toes. While the planet does mirror the size of a larger than average moon, there’s nothing but grandeur with the cutting edge advances in space travel and military innovations. An arts district too, one that’s presented multiple times for the Senate apparently. Rex has yet to see it. It’s an easy guess as to why Ithyea has gone under pointed attacks from the Separatists—it’d be foolish not to try.     

And of course comes the intergalactic mess of politics. You are not Ithyea’s first senator. Or second…or third. Just in the last six months, three of your predecessors have been picked off—two disappearances and a suspicious poisoning sandwiched between them. Which sides these assassinations stem from is anybody’s guess—a mix of both perhaps—all to silence and stamp the voice of your people out.

Heavy are the shoulders that wear those abhorrent senatorial robes, and Maker did it take some convincing for another Ithyean to step to the chopping block. It’s just…no one thought  it’d be you. The infamous captain of King Arrian Felian’s elite guard—trained in combat levels high enough to contend some of those within the ranks of the Jedi Order. When your name comes up in conversation, it certainly doesn’t scream diplomacy.     

Rex is not surprised that you hold the current record of Ithyean senators for surviving the longest. Evading an astonishing two attempts on your life by the skin of your teeth. You were just downright lucky the third assassin missed their mark. Sure, the blade of Syrena Aster skimmed the right side of your cheek and left behind a nasty scar to remember her by, but kriff—even with your background and low levels of public presence, you’re a high priced target. Whoever placed an order with the Heretics, really wants to see you six feet under.     

Rex hasn’t been given the full report on exactly who the Heretics are—a rag tag bunch of untrained Force users and skilled assassins from what he’s gathered—but regardless, this attack is just the beginning. Until the Senate and the Jedi are able to retract the price on your head, you’re stuck under protective custody. Usually ushered away into the Jedi Temple or tagging along with General Kenobi and Skywalker. Despondently, no matter the circumstances of your protection, it can’t shield you from the dreadful invitations to senatorial luncheons.

 And yes, you tried to slip by for this one. 

You don't brush elbows with other senator’s like many of the members in the Jedi Order and your own cohort do. In fact, you actively avoid even speaking to them unless necessary, let alone stand in the same room with seven of them. Odd for an elected official of diplomacy such as yourself to be so cold shouldered—Rex would think senators wanted to mingle.    

It's curious because you're standing in plain sight and yet no one pays you any passing thought. General Kenobi and Skywalker hold the majority of their attentions, shoulders already taught with exasperation at keeping everyone from tearing out each other's throats for, kriffing five minutes. Yet you...you are completely at ease, leaning up against a stone pillar, observing the unfolding chaos from afar with a keen eye. 

Before Rex realizes he's stepping towards your position, you glance over and dip your chin in greeting. The ghost of a smirk pulls at your normally grim facade—his heart skips. "Captain."

"Senator," he mimics, posting himself to your right. There’s still a thin, healing scab from the assassin’s blade that extends from the swell of your cheek to your ear. Ouch. “Enjoying the evening?" 

You snort. "Hardly enjoying it, Rex."

Stars—you shouldn't be allowed to say his name. Your words are razor-sharp like a jagged vibroblade, meant to jab and pierce through armor—tear a person to pieces without having to lift a finger. Everything about you is rough, gritty, brutal, unbecoming of what a senator should be, but— 

You mouth his name, purring out the singular syllable with such tenderness that it's like a punch to the gut. 

It's hard to swallow and he needs to clear his throat—an embarrassing act on his part, but your attention has already returned back towards the meandering senators. "How d'you mean?"

"Well," you sigh, "let's just say smalltalk isn’t my strong suit." 

"Aren't you senators s'pposed to like diplomacy n' such?" 

Your thumb smoothes over your bottom lip in thought as you shrug. "Diplomacy? Sure. Politicians? Can’t say I like them. I just—"

You wave your hand around, gesturing vaguely to the crowd. "I just don't understand why they can't say what they mean. Telling someone to have a nice day shouldn't entail certain death, y'know?"

"Speaking from experience?" He teases, gently prying into that harder than beskar wall you've created for yourself. There's fissions in your foundation and he means to tear it down all for just a mere scrap of information. 

Your eyes flick over, your lips curling into a vulpine grin. “Perhaps...Though, it was partially my fault, I have to admit.” 

“You’ll have to tell me the story sometime, Senator.” 

You nod. “Yes, one day—when there aren’t so many political ears jumping at the chance of gossip.” 

A swell of laughter interrupts your chat, your attention gravitating to Obi-Wan—ever the charmer with the crowds. The end of your mouth pulls into a frown as you sigh and carefully scratch at your brow with the back of your thumb. Rex might be pulling at straws, but what he mistook as you being standoffish may just be your nerves. Socially awkward and flustered when speaking in such an intimate setting. 

Rex’s first instinct is to reach out and place a hand over your shoulder in comfort, but he’s not sure how you’ll respond to the touch. Flip him over your shoulder probably—

Instead he forces himself to jumpstart the conversation—something to distract from your anxieties. “I hope you don’t mind me asking—“ His heart beat kicks up into a flurry of wild beats as you turn you head. “What uh..wh—did you want to become a senator?”

He likes it when you smile—like you’re letting him on some sort of coy secret. You shift your weight and shrug. “The king asked me personally. I’m flattered he thinks I’m clever enough—insulted he sends me to these abysmal gatherings like some sort of show pony.”

Rex chuckles. “Yeah, can’t say I like ‘em either.” 

“Although…” Your thumb runs over your lip again, a sparkle of mischief igniting behind your eyes. “As a senator, I do get the occasional tidbit of gossip. Here, I’ll catch you up—“

The captain startles when you snatch his elbow and yank him closer. Maker he’s glad for his helmet because your lips brush against his earpiece as he leans down to reach your height. 

“Look." You whisper, nodding casually in the direction of a particularly young senator with a shock of white hair. She's swathed in a pool of royal blue silk, much too large for her tiny frame, and all but hanging off Skywalker's arm with glittered nails filed into points. "That is Senator Ceci Paare of Corellia. She looks innocent, no?"

She does. Wide, crystalline green eyes stare up at the Jedi Knight as a pretty giggle escapes past her ruby painted lips. Skywalker grimaces. 

"I quite like her," you continue with a sly grin. "Even if she does try to influence public opinion by an invitation to bed." 

There's no time to process as you focus in on an older man. His hazy blue skin, ash white lips and vermillion green eyes cut an almost nightmarish profile, accentuated by mountains of black robes. Rex can’t recall what planet the senator represents. The senator holds his head stiffer than rebar to keep the ornate golden circlet from slipping off, his white lips curling in distaste as Orn Free Taa of Ryloth places a meaty hand over his slender shoulder. 

"He is Lord Tal’en Sol Ra'ah. Cunning, but sympathetic to the pleasures of gambling."

It's a game to you—of perceptions and nuances only a trained eye can roll over. Rex expects nothing less. This sort of thing has been hammered into the very essence of your being since you were little—reading an enemy before they can strike. It works on politicians marvelously well. 

Truth be told Rex should be paying more attention—but the closeness of your face to his helmet is maddening. His heart twists and coils as your bare hand skims along his gloved one—kriff. He’s not gonna make it before he bursts into a thousand little pieces.  

Rex’s spell of lovesick yearning recedes as you swear under your breath. It was only a matter of time before someone approached your little corner.  

"Oh, Maker save me," you hiss under your breath as a young Mirialan saunters over, the swatches of rich red and brilliant gold accentuate his violet skin like a bloody bruise. "Pretend you're speaking with me." 

"I am speaking with you," Rex snorts. 

Your hand waves in dismissal as your brows stitch together, hands balling into fists. Your jaw clenches as the senator in question puts on a dazzling smile. You look downright panicked. Rex has witnessed you face down numerous senators older than dirt and close to blowing away in the wind with plucky fervor, assassination attempts, being held captive, and you're frightened…by this? 

This is too good. 

Rex has half a mind to help you, wheel you away from your little predicament, but his intrigue with seeing your oh-so-solid resolve crumble is much too valuable and entertaining to pass up. He's going to remember this for years.  

"Rex."

"Senator," he mimics, not at all frightened by your poisonous glare. "Some diplomacy might do you good."

You begin to snarl out a threat but are decidedly cut off by your object of horror planting himself before your hiding spot. You cower into the corner like a boxed in loth-cat. "Ah, my favorite Ithyean! I had begun to worry you would not make it, my dear friend."

"Senator Lin," you sigh. The smile you offer is tight and thin; a nervous one much in the same way one would be if presented with a box of toenails for a birthday gift. “How pleasant to see you."

Senator Lin’s deep violet lips part with an easy smile. He waves a hand in dismissal, his silver rings glinting in the warm lighting. "Please—call me Toluka. No need to bother with such formalities between companions." 

Rex suddenly understands your trepidation with the Mirialan—he’s slimy. And, not to mention, not at all ashamed with the lecherous looks as his eyes sweep down your body. Rex clenches his teeth and folds his arms behind his back. He’s regretting not heeding your warning now…  

Try as you might through brutal small talk and chilly answers, Senator Lin refuses to take the hint. A dark plume of venom green lashes through Rex’s chest as the Mirialan places a friendly hand over your shoulder. You grimace as Rex bristles and glares through the visor of his helmet.  

Senator Lin’s lips pull into a gaudy smile as he glances at Rex and then at you.“My dear, don’t you know? It’s not worth wasting your time with a clone. After all, they’re all the same person. How boorish—come join us at the table.”

Your teeth bite into your cheek as your temper, like the silver of blade through the darkness, cuts through your steely irises. With poised nonchalance, you lift your hand and pinch Senator’s Lin’s fingers between your own and pry them off your shoulder. “Is that so?”

“Your campaign, valuable as it may be,” Lin continues, “is a useless endeavor. They are not our equals and never will be--you must know that." 

Rex forces himself to remain calm—collected and certainly not imaging a thousand and one ways he’d like to see his fist breaking the fragile bones of the senator’s face.  

"Fine buttons stitched upon your shoulders do not compel your worth, Senator,” the harshness of your words is a blow straight to Lin’s ego. His well-groomed brows furrow drastically as his tongue struggles to play catch up and find words to repair his shattered pride. 

There’s no chance for Senator Lin to regain his footing as your snatch Rex’s wrist and sweep him out into the hall. Rex can feel your anger roll off of you in waves, frighting and holding the same caliber of roaring waves thundering against black, craggy rocks. It’s a miracle the night didn’t end with your hands wrapped around the senator’s throat or a blaster shot through the chest. 

When you reach the lower halls of the cruise ship is when you release Rex’s wrist. You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers and release a long, dramatic sigh.   

"You are worth far more than that pompous ass," you say with enough edge to slice through a droideka's shields. "He has no right to say those things to you." 

“It’s alright,” Rex soothes, placing a hand over your bristling shoulder. “I’ve heard worse.” 

Your features scrunch up into a wince. “That...that doesn’t mean you have to suffer through more of it, Rex.”

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair and loosen the heavy outer robes strung around your shoulders. You shrug out of them and fold the thick swaths of fabric over you arm—revealing the under layers of your uniform. You toss the bundle of fabric to the floor with a disgusted grimace and sit on the cargo crate closest to your left. 

“Really—it’s ok.” Rex assures again. “I—“

You hold up a hand and shake your head. His mouth snaps shut. “I won’t hear it. To me you are nothing short of perfect and I refuse to argue about it. Maker knows I already do that for a kriffing living.”

There’s a fragile lull in the hollow space—the distant chatter of voices and strange music collecting in the corners. You stand once again, toe to toe with the Captain and there it is again, that elated pitter patter of his heart thrumming through his veins. The nerves of being so close to you—you sweet face and not being able to touch you.  

“Let me see your face.”

His hands come up to the edges of his helmet without hesitation, a hiss of hair escaping the seal once he pries it off. You smile and take a step closer until the only thing separating you and him is his helmet. 

Rex’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into your hand you gingerly place over his jaw. “I wish the entire galaxy could see you through my eyes,” you whisper, the warmth of your soft palm radiating out and warming his entire body.  

It’s a matchstick to kerosene—his helmet clatters to the ground and there’s only a second to spare as both hands move to cup his cheeks, dragging him into a mouthwatering kiss. 

He hasn’t kissed many people—save for those rare times at 79’s, head swimming under the haze of one too many shots of Corellian fire whiskeys where he could barely distinguish his ass from his hand. Those drunken make-outs were nothing like this. 

No—this…this is what a kiss should be like.   

He dreams about you all the time—so constantly ravenous that all he can feel some days is pure ache. Every and all words that spin around his head starts with you and finishes with his pounding heart close to bursting free from his ribcage. Not in the same way a flood rips through an unsuspecting village—more like the brilliance of a thousand doves, marble white plumage thrashing free from their gilded cage. Your lips taste like the core of a newborn star—scorching and yet still so sweet upon the tongue the same way caramelized sugar sticks to the roof your mouth. You are his first and last everything. 

There’s a certain kind of tragedy hidden beneath your tongue, fragile promises and the eggshell thin shards of hope stapled to the roof of your mouth. Rex will take it—seize any threadbare strand and run with it—spool it into the palm of his hand until you’re wound so tightly together it’ll be impossible to untangle.     

Just when the dizziness sets in from elation and not enough air, you part and leave a sticky trail of warm kisses up his jaw. Rex groans and hugs you closer, you humid breath blooming across his skin. “Let me take care of you.”

The words on his tongue crumble to ash once he nods in agreement. Your kisses dip lower, not even stopping when the reach the edge of his chest plate. Stars, you’re…he never entertained the idea that your lips could look so divine in contrast to the battered plastoid. When you fold onto your knees his heart leaps to his mouth, a flare of arousal flashing through his groin. 

You rest your chin over his codpiece and smile. “Do you like seeing me on my knees, sir?”

Rex huffs and studies at the opposing wall—

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Your fingers find the claps over his codpiece. “Can I take this off?”

Rex jerks his head in a yes but grabs your wrist. Not a rough hold—a tentative one as hesitation swirls in his eyes. “Don’t—don’t have t’ do this for me—“

You quirk a brow. “I want to because I like you, Rexy.”

A rosy blush blooms over his sharp cheekbones. The captain nods again.

The codpiece clatters to the ground and immediately you move your hand to palm him through his blacks. He grunts and squeezes his eyes shut. There we go.      

Biting your lip, you pull down his blacks as far as the plastoid plating allows, greeted with the hard length of his cock, beautiful and flushed a rosy brown. Fuck—he’s thicker than you thought. You wrap your fingers around the base, delighted by Rex’s airy gasp as he throbs in your palm. A bead of liquid shines at the tip and just the sight of it makes your mouth water. 

Moons—you should’ve done this sooner.

With a stuttering inhale, Rex trails his forefinger along your cheek and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. The pads of his fingertips skim lower and lightly pinch your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Your eyes lift to meet his. “You—you sure?”

You answer with a kiss over the dip of his navel, the skin searing hot under your lips. Rex curses and rolls his head back onto his shoulders when your palm slides up the length of his cock and then back down. Your grip is firm and tight as Rex slumps onto the crate, goosebumps rushing up his exposed flesh. Stars, when’s the last time he’s gotten release like this? 

You lean forward and lick a languid line from the velvety skin of his balls all the way up to the tip. Rex’s hips jolt. You purse your lips and suckle at the head, dipping your tongue over the slit then down to trace the ridge of his frenulum all the while your hand rolls up and down his shaft. Rex tangles his fingers into your hair with a hiss. You open your jaw a bit wider and take him down a few inches into the wet heat of your mouth, feeling your lips stretch around his cock. You you drag the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft to make the thickness easier to swallow down, but he's still only halfway into your mouth when he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck—" Rex moans as his hips strain to remain still. “S’good—such a good girl.”

You glance up, eyes devouring the attractive length of his clean shaven throat and the underside of his chin. Rex swallows and let’s out another little sound. You whine softly in return and slip a hand into your pants, pressing your fingertips against your throbbing clit as you start to carefully bob your head up and down. Yeah—your jaw already aches just from holding his cock in in your mouth but fuck it—it’s worth it.   

Rex's chest heaves with exertion as he mindfully rocks his hips up, pushing and rolling his cock deeper into your mouth until his shaft is nearly seated all the way in. Ditching your own pleasure entirely, you swallow around him, forcing down the urge to gag and simply hold him here. Allowing him a moment to just enjoy the soft warmth of your mouth before launching into the main event.  

Rex murmurs your name and strokes his thumb over your cheek. “You’re beautiful—so pretty like—like this..ah—” 

You pointedly hollow your cheeks and suck, his flattery warming your chest with pride. You swallow around him another time, squeeze his shaft, your fist following your mouth as you lift up then back down to the base. You grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you pull halfway up and let Rex rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans of your name. 

Soon enough he’s twitching in your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as his head tips back onto his shoulders. The gloved hand sweetly cradling your cheek slips to the nape of your neck, tangling his fingers into you hair to anchor himself. He’s close—quiet gasps and broken curses tumbling out, hips unconsciously rocking into your mouth in search of release.

Rex whimpers your name, his leg jolting as you work your jaw wider and swallow him down, the dark curls tickling your nose once it brushes his groin. “Oh, fuck.” 

You hum around him, delighting in the mumbled praises. Almost there…That’s it. 

He’s dangling on the precipice—on tiny shove away from euphoria—

“Wait—“ Saliva dribbles down your chin when his cock pops out from your swollen lips, throbbing from the unintentional tease. “Maker—shit.” 

If not for the gloves covering his hands, you’re sure they’d be turning white from how tightly he grips the edge of the crate. His eyes are squeezed shut, slightly bent forward as he falls away from the edge of his release. Rex sucks in a steadying breath, amber eyes meeting your confused ones. 

“I don’t—can we—“ Rex’s eyes flit and focus on anything but you as he stutters and works up the courage to ask for what he wants. “Do we have time—“

You rolls your eyes and rest your cheek on his thigh. Silly man. “You wanna fuck me, Rexy?”

“Kriff, yes.”

You smile and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “I don’t think they’ll miss us."

Rex doesn’t complain when you take his hands and yank him onto the grubby floor and over your senatorial robes. He props his back against the crate as you shuck off everything below the waste and clamber into his lap. His hands, warm even through the leather, land over the swell of your hips and wrench you closer until your front presses up against his chest plate. 

The rough prickle of his stubble is, in all sense of the word, addictive. He tilts his head to kiss you, the slick touch of his tongue on your bottom lip adding jet fuel to the fire low in your belly. Rex groans and cups your jaw, holding your mouth open to dance his tongue along the length of yours. You whine and shudder as he purses his lips and lightly sucks on your tongue before you both part. 

Rex drags his teeth over your bottom lip as you both pant for precious air. His dark lashes sweep up his cheeks when he looks at you. This close you bare witness to the dazzling color of his eyes—crystalized pearls of amber over the crackled bark of pine tree in the midmorning sun. Muted gold threaded through the brown like fine lace and the slow shimmer of the sun dappled through water. To think such a man like him is dredged through the bloodied mud of war is despicable.

You blink away the swell of tears prickling at your eyes and kiss him once more. Sighing, you whisper down, mouthing soft nibbles and teasing kisses over his jaw and down his neck. Rex squirms and rock his hips up, your cunt clenching around nothing. You need him.   

“Rex,” you groan. You slide your hand between your bodies and grab at his thick length. Rex gasps into your mouth, long fingers clamping onto your waist in a death grip. “I want you.”

“I’m yours.” 

Your nibble at his earlobe as you grind your hips against his length, the folds of your cunt teasingly out of reach. “Touch me, Captain.” 

Rex tears off his vambraces and gloves, hand wedging between your thighs, touching the very tips of his fingers to your throbbing clit. You whine and clench your jaw—the pleasure is raw—sizzling electricity that crackles with the deadly promises of your pleasure. It’s as if you’ve had the breath knocked out of your lungs the second he bears down a bit more on your clit, drawing tentative circles, each completion sending a shockwave of tightly spooled ecstasy through each and every nerve. You nearly sob as his fingers slip away. 

“So wet already,” Rex moans as you tip your head back when two of his fingers begin circle your dripping cunt. They’re thick and long and perfect. Your hips stutter as your cunt easily accepts his fingers, the heel of his palm slotting perfectly against your pussy to stimulate your clit. 

Maker you’re seeing stars as Rex rocks his hand into you—the bend of his fingers the perfect angle to catch all the right places that make you tremble. He kisses your cheek and moans your name into your ear, all low and gravelly— 

Your body seizes up tight as you soar, plummeting off the edge only to tumble so fast and so hard that tears prick the corner of your eyes. Rex peppers kisses over your cheeks and runs his free hand through your hair, purring praise and adoration as you shudder—your mouth parted in a silent cry as you cum and dissolve into his hands. 

When you suck in a steadying breath and open your eyes, Rex is gazing upon you with starstruck eyes—pure adoration that makes your cheeks flare hotter than the surface of two mini suns. Your teeth catch your bottom lip. You’re not sure you deserve to be looked at like this…

However, you’re impatient and running on stolen seconds. As much as you’d like to just simply stare at him—there’s not enough time. Rex wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and slides the tip of himself through your soaking folds. Each stroke against your still throbbing clit makes you buckle into yourself, but the angle that your knees are propped over his hips means you're stuck here. 

Rex pauses and cups your cheek. His thumb scrapes over your cheekbone. “You want this?”

You place your hand over his and turn your head to mouth a kiss over the lines of his palm. Oh, fuck yeah. Kind of him to ask as if hadn’t just cum over his fingers but—no. “I need you to fuck me, Rex. That’s an order.”

Rex huffs out a low chuckle and bumps the crown of his forehead against yours. “As you wish, Senator.” 

Rex runs the blunt head of his cock through your folds again, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the hard plastoid as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and wiggle. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s in no small. You’ll feel him for days, you’re sure of it as your cunt swallows inch after inch. 

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw his clenched tight as sweat beads at his blonde hairline—Stars above, he’s a sight, struggling not to loose control the second he’s buried inside of you. Desire tickles up your spine, tugging at the fabrics of your being until all you can focus on his how Rex isn’t moving. You shift your hips in tiny, almost imperceptible motions, and squeeze around him. 

“Damn—“ A ragged moans slices through his words as your gentle rocking morphs into needy jolts. It’s easy to fuck yourself onto his cock like this, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. “Fuck, cyare, you’re tight.” 

You smirk and grab at his sculpted shoulders—it’s the push he needs. Rex snarls your name, cups his hands under the globes of your ass and pulls you off his cock nearly all the way out only to slam back in. There’s no time to adjust before Rex sets a pace, fevered and rabid All pent up energy collecting over the weeks you’ve known each other. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what feels like ages. 

You squeal in surprise as Rex pushes you onto your back and hoists your legs around his hips. Rex buries his nose into the crook of your neck and moans your name like a sweet prayer wrapped in honeycomb. Rex shifts his weight, widening his knees to sink deeper into your cunt—his stubble tickling your throat as his staggered exhales burn hot over your skin. 

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, scorching through each and every veins with the catastrophic brilliance of an imploding star. Shit—

“So good t’me—so perfect,” he huffs into your ear. Rex turns his head and steals a kiss. “Feel fuckin’ good stretched around my cock."

You clench around him hard as Rex’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s barely any build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of devastating warmth that sweeps through your body, from your aching center down to your toes. It steals away all the air left in your lungs and leaves your clutching his arm and shuddering for a hold in your own reality—the steady warmth of his body that’s unburdened by armor a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you. 

His gentle, and pliant kisses morph into little pricks of his teeth over your neck and collar bone as his hips struggle to keep a definitive pattern. Rex’s curses string together and blur into nonsensical noises and loose tongue admittances that are comparable to moving inches from an imploding star.   

“Where can—can I?”

You grab at his head and whine his name. “Anywhere—in me—you can cum in me.”

With a loving caress over back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, he reaches release. Rex’s moan is airy as his eyes slam shut and captures your mouth in a sizzling kiss. He’s twitching in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides and beginning to leak over your robes you lay over. Whatever. 

Rex nips at your skin as the last dregs of pleasure jolt up your spine. Neither of you say a word as Rex’s hips come to a slow. Time trickles through your fingers like sand through an hourglass half empty but instead of rushing to dress, you choose to lie on the ground—two halves of a mess someone’s been meaning to clean up for the better part of a long while. You feel at home here—content as your fingers run up and down the back of his head, a bit irked by the armor still covering his back. You’re terrified of the months to come—but at least you have each other. After all, gardens will bloom and flourish with fresh blooded love and wild mistakes sculpted from passion forever if you believe hard enough…wont they?

[sundayswiththeilluminati]

Continued from this post, Part 3 of my discussion of Essek Thelyss in the context of real-world espionage. This time: what happens to espionage assets in the long run? Do they break contact, and why? What might have been in store for Essek?

At the treaty meeting Essek tells Ludinus to his face that he wants no further contact with the Assembly, not even to learn what the Assembly discovers via their own beacon. He’s far from the first asset to try to sever their relationship, and it ends in one of three ways: they don’t manage to break contact, they break contact but voluntarily return, or (rarest of all) they end the relationship permanently. 

Most attempts don’t go beyond option 1, because intelligence agencies are not in the business of respecting their assets’ choices. Handlers are skilled in keeping the upper hand in their asset relationships and will take any further opportunity to gain leverage by compromising the asset. For instance they’ll often pay for information even if the asset hasn’t requested it, because money changing hands makes it far harder for an asset to frame their activities positively to their own side if they attempt to confess (”You expect us to believe they were blackmailing you when you got $10,000 to hand over the secret manual?” etc.) And when push comes to shove most people aren’t willing to accept the severe punishments for espionage. An asset’s threat to confess is more likely a negotiating ploy than a serious option.

Some assets, especially nervous or ego-driven ones, get the carrot: the KGB did a strong line in awarding secret medals to convince them they were doing important, well-regarded work and that the KGB would protect them - not an empty reassurance, as highly-placed moles like Aldrich Ames warranted elaborate ops involving double and triple agents to avert suspicions. And some assets get the stick: the handler tightens the screws using whatever leverage they’ve gained, implies that they’re already “too far in to go back,” or gives some time for those who were blackmailed into spying to think about the consequences of exposure.[1]

Those who get as far as option two, breaking it off and later returning, are usually driven away by fear but back by finances. Fantasy spies have all sorts of motives but in real life the majority are in it for the money. Assets, as you might imagine, make bad choices. About half start selling secrets just to stave off massive debt from overspending and poor financial decisions (the rest feel underpaid.) So even if these assets stop temporarily, the circumstances that drove them to espionage in the first place are still very much present. In these cases all a handler has to do is shrug and say, “You know where to find us.” Infamous FBI mole Robert Hanssen broke off contact with his Russian handlers when the Soviet Union collapsed, fearing he might get outed in the chaos, but linked back up with them just 10 months later when, surprise surprise, he needed some cash.

And then there are the rare handful who stop completely. There’s a bit of survivor(?) bias here because anyone who passes along secrets, breaks off the relationship before being caught, and manages to get away with it is by definition someone we don’t know about. Those who do manage to break contact long-term are usually able to do so because they left the situation that gave them access to interesting secrets and therefore the controlling agency determined they were no longer a useful resource and not worth pursuing. But even if an asset stops working for an agency, they’re far from forgotten - and far from off the hook. Names and evidence of their espionage would be kept on file for potential use as blackmail, leverage in state-to-state negotiations, or expendable material to prove bona fides in ops involving fake defectors or triple agents. A surprising number of spies are caught/outed years after their espionage ended.

Very few assets permanently sever their espionage relationships the hard way: making a genuine confession and accepting punishment. But it’s not unheard-of, especially if the espionage was brief and the asset believes the damage can be repaired. In 1989 Army signals analyst Michael Peri disappeared from his post in West Germany along with a portable computer containing numerous classified documents. Eleven days later he returned to his previous post with the computer and voluntarily confessed to the theft and sort-of defection to East Germany. When interrogated, Peri - who had been a model soldier until that point - said he felt overworked and underappreciated by his superiors, though he couldn’t entirely explain his decisions either to leave or to return (a sexy female Russian agent might also have been involved). He received a 30-year sentence.

Marine Clayton Lonetree, a guard stationed at the US Embassy in Moscow in 1985, was blackmailed over an affair to hand over details on the embassy compound for a year, but his conscience finally got the better of him and he confessed in late 1986. Being a Marine he faced the very real prospect of death by firing squad, but the court martial ended up giving him a 30-year sentence. It was later reduced to 15 after the Marine Corps Commandant wrote a letter to the Navy Secretary on his behalf attributing the young Marine’s actions not to treason or greed but to loneliness, naivety, and poor judgement.[2]

Going back to Essek’s case, he’s already in the minority of espionage assets because he doesn’t want money in return for the secrets he passes along; though the knowledge the Assembly promises him in return fulfills a similar desire, Essek doesn’t need that knowledge to pay off the equivalent of debt or to maintain his lifestyle. He has no pressures at home that force him to continue spying. With the beacons returned, the fall guys in place, and their tracks seemingly covered, he tells Ludinus that all he wants is to be rid of the entire affair. That rules out option one (he sincerely means to cut the Assembly off) and option two (he won’t be driven back by need.) 

Essek is also in an unusual position in that the worst of the damage he caused is repairable - just return the beacons.[3] A secret, once compromised, can’t be un-compromised. If an asset hands over a cipher machine they can’t fix the situation by stealing the cipher machine back; the foreign agency they sold it to has already studied the machine and learned its secrets, meaning it’s now effectively useless. But returning the beacons restores what the Kryn lost. While keeping dunamancy secret gives the Kryn a tactical edge, and I’m sure the Dynasty would prefer to keep the magical soulstones of their elite hidden from their long-time rival, the beacons don’t need to be secret to work. Essek therefore has a much better chance than most to simply repair the damage, cut off his handlers, and try to forget the whole affair ever happened. He might even think that, now that the Assembly has their own beacon, they’ll have no further use for him and will just leave him alone.

But from the Cerberus Assembly's perspective, this fruit still has plenty of juice in it and they risk nothing by continuing to squeeze. Now that they have their own beacon Essek’s knowledge becomes even more valuable. He has access to hundreds of years of dunamantic spellcrafting - and more importantly the rite of consecution, since the Assembly were probably after beacons in the first place to make themselves immortal. If Essek is caught, it’s treason for him, but the Assembly doesn’t suffer; they were doing it for the good of the Empire, learning about dunamancy to help the war effort. So if he refuses to keep spying voluntarily for the Assembly, they’ll just have to find another way to motivate him. 

As part of evaluating Essek before recruitment, Assembly operatives would have noted that he’s, well, highly motivated to save his own skin. Ludinus’ goal therefore becomes to make Essek see further espionage as the only way to stay alive. So instead of confronting Essek then and there, Ludinus shrugs and goes, “Okay. Sure.” Then he activates the Volstruckers, maybe leaks a little info to the Dynasty about a traitor in their midst, and sets up Essek to stew in fear, feeling isolated and attacked from both sides - targeted by the Assembly for his defiance, under suspicion from the Dynasty, unable to ask for help because of his crimes. Ludinus sits back and waits for Essek to re-establish contact on his own. Of course Ludinus didn’t know that the M9 had confronted Essek and gotten him to confess, making a return to spying impossible even if he tried.

While Essek’s motives revolve around ego, frustration, and rebellion, his situation is more like those of people who end up defecting because they’re unable to pursue their careers or live as they want to back home. He has virtually no social/family ties to leave behind, no loyalty to Dynasty authority, and no religious fervor to defend the Luxon, while the Assembly promises him the company of like minds and free rein in his experiments. Assuming no intervention by the M9 I think Essek would have ended up defecting to the Cerberus Assembly. If he did it early enough in the story he might have even joined the Volstruckers to complete the narrative foil transformation.

If the crew had confronted him at the treaty but not offered mercy I think he would have defected purely out of fear, thinking the Assembly were the only people who could protect him from both the Dynasty and the M9. He was already on edge watching the guy he'd set up to take the fall getting walked away in chains and with the Assembly's Wind of Aeons ship right there it would be the ideal time to make the move. Assuming the treaty confrontation went as it did (the crew makes him confess but lets him live) but the M9 hadn’t shown up in Eiselcross, Essek would likely have fled the outpost and gone into hiding in a bid to outrun his crimes (and probably gotten caught two weeks later given how awful he was at being “Dezrain Thane.”)

Essek is far from the first recruited asset to regret what they did even as they kept doing it. Those who can sell out their nation and not feel even a pang of guilt are thankfully thin on the ground. Most start off doing what seems to be a favor for a friend - or accepting a favor from a friend who wants to help with their “financial difficulties” - and end up so deep they can’t see any way forward other than to keep handing over secrets. He’s one more in a long line of those who compromised information out of frustration, especially through the appeal to shared professional interests (that’s how industrial assets tend to be recruited.)

But he’s also in a much better place to make up for it than most assets. Since he primarily compromised property, not secrets, returning said property can (somewhat, mostly) repair the damage done, which goes a long way towards buying leniency from the powers that be. And now I’m realizing that this post actually needs one final part, which is: how do you try someone for espionage, and should you charge them with it in the first place?

[1]  While spy dramas love sexy blackmail, and handlers will happily collect it to leverage against a balky asset, it works far less often in reality as a main reason for espionage. Social penalties for extramarital affairs pale before actual legal penalties like the death sentence for treason. On the other hand, those with foreign relatives are sometimes coerced by threats against those relatives.

[2]  Lonetree’s case for leniency got a boost in 1994 when Aldrich Ames was finally caught and some serious breaches of embassy security that had been attributed to Lonetree were found to be Ames’ work instead. In 1996 Lonetree was released after having served 9 years total.

[3] Although I did just think of a really messed-up Cerberus Assembly plan: consecute a handful of completely loyal Volstruckers, kill them, and send the beacons back so said agents will be reborn in the Dynasty and work to undermine it from within. How fucked up would that be?? Campaign 3 plot hook anyone?

(This accidentally turned into a series on Essek & IRL espionage: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4)

[spunky-89]

All Power (Kol Mikaelson x Female Reader)

A/N: Woo a new fic! Cause updating or finishing old WIPs is apparently not as cool. Also, this fic is a bit of a crossover from Teen Wolf, not anything like major, just some references and such.

Word Count: 1.8 k

Warnings: None that I can think of

The air was tense in the courtyard as Kol stood protectively in front of his lover, facing off against his pain-in-the-ass hybrid brother. Elijah stood between the two trying to keep them from tearing each other apart. Freya was off to the side holding herself, feeling guilty for starting this disagreement.

“You come anywhere near her Nik and I swear it will be the last thing you do.” Kol threatened.

“I don’t like liars, especially not in the house where my daughter sleeps,” Klaus growled.

“You really think I wouldn’t make sure that my girlfriend had no ill intent towards my niece? Do you think that low of me brother?”

“Enough, both of you,” Elijah spoke, turning slightly to look at his youngest brother and his lover. “Now, would you care to share what this ruckus is all about?”

“I don’t know, ask Nik.” Kol spat, rage in his eyes.

“You stand there and make me the bad guy when it is your pet human that is lying and has been her whole time with us.” Klaus proclaimed.

“And how do you know this Niklaus?” Elijah inquired.

“Because I sensed it,” Freya spoke up, moving closer to the brewing storm.

“Sensed what Freya?” Kol snapped, becoming more and more fed up with the current situation.

“Something… off,” She tried, struggling to find the words.

“You need to do better than that sister, or else this is a waste of time because you have no grounds to accuse my girlfriend of anything.”

“Enough.” The woman came out from her position behind Kol and came to stand next to him. “Please just stop, all of you.” She requested.

“Darling?” Kol gave her a questioning look and she gave a heavy sigh.

“She isn’t wrong, I’m not human,” She started, avoiding eye contact and staring at the ground. “Well, not entirely human I should say.” She then looked to Klaus, “I’m honestly surprised you didn’t sense it. I mean typically wolves have a sense for this sort of thing.” She remarked.

“Get to the point, my patients is waning fast,” Klaus warned. As he did so, Kol took a threatening step forward, only to be stopped by a hand on his arm.

“Okay, calm down. The short version is I’m a werewolf.” The woman stated plainly.

“You can’t be, you’ve never turned on a full moon,” Kol stated, looking to his girlfriend in confusion.

“That’s because I’m a different breed and I’ve learned to control it.” She then gave a bashful smile at him and said, “I also happen to have an amazing anchor that keeps me grounded.”

“That’s it,” Klaus growled and sped at the supposed werewolf and pinned her to the wall, his eyes glowing golden. “Who are you?”

She saw Kol move to intervene but she shot him a look to let her handle this. She smirked as she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, opening them to reveal her eyes were glowing a vibrant purple, wolfish features taking over her face slightly. And before Klaus could make a comment or move, she dug her claws deep into his side and rake them upwards, causing him to release her in shock. She used that moment to roundhouse kick him away from her.

“Who am I? Well, I’m someone you really don’t want to piss off.” She huffed, fixing her clothes.

Kol was looking at her wide-eyed, never having seen her like that before. He watched in fascination as her face shifted back to the one he loved so much, though the claws on her hands didn’t disappear.

While Kol was focused on her, she was focused on Klaus. She knew she just poked the sleeping bear, or well in this case wolf. She acted casual, but she was ready for a full-fledged brawl. She heard him let out a chuckle, and her heart went icy cold. She knew that kind of chuckle. It was the kind that told her she’d just pissed him off and he was amused by her attempt to hurt him.

“That was a neat trick, love,” He said as he stood back up to his regular height. “But you’ll have to do a lot better than that if you want to hurt me.” He growled as his eyes flared and he started to rush towards the woman. Before he could even get close Kol threw him to the other side of the courtyard.

“I told you Nik, not a hair.” He seethed, standing protectively in front of his girlfriend, who was now minorly terrified and clutched onto the back of his jacket.

“Maybe I should just go,” She murmured to Kol.

“Nonsense, you are still welcome here,” Elijah promised.

Klaus had gotten up and was getting ready to argue when Elijah cut him off.

“Why don’t we give the lady the benefit of the doubt. As it stands, if she had wanted to harm any of us she’s had ample opportunities to do so and has not. We shall hear her out before we jump to any more conclusions.” He stated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Everyone was slow to move, but eventually, all were gathered in the seating area.

“What do you want to know?” The woman asked, practically perched in Kol’s lap.

“First off, how is there another breed of werewolf?” Elijah asked.

“Well, there’s actually a few. I’m from the French line of werewolves, whereas your brother is of the North American breed. As far as I know, the only other breed is English wolves. But there are many different shifters out there from many cultures. Kitsune, for example, come from Japan.” She explained as best as she could.

“How is it we’ve never heard of any other wolves or shifters before?” Freya asked.

“That I am unsure of, but I’ve met loads of different shifters and other creatures. Where I come from, it’s practically a beacon for supernaturals.”

“And you can control your shifts?” Kol piped up.

“Well for the most part. The way French wolves and shifters work is that you can shift at any time, not just on the full moon. But the full moon makes us more susceptible to turning. But for older wolves, it becomes easier to control your shifts. Whereas baby wolves tend to be much more at risk of turning uncontrollably.”

She then spent the next hour or so explaining the differences between the different wolf breeds and other supernatural creatures, although she never really explained what she was. It was actually Kol that brought up the question.

“Me? Well, I’m kinda a special case. I’m a werewolf, but well, an extremely rare one. It’s why I didn’t tell you who or what I was.” She explained, clearly nervous to reveal who she was. But with one squeeze of the hand from Kol, she sighed and started speaking, “I am the twin sister of Scott McCall, the True Alpha. I am his opposite in most cases which makes us an elite team that is nearly unbeatable. So I am what is called a Compliment Alpha. Part alpha, part beta, all power. It’s why my eyes are purple. It combines the red of an alpha’s eyes and the blue of a beta’s.” She explained, once again flashing her eyes.

“Does that satisfy you Nik? Or does she have to go through her life story before you trust her?” Kol asked, seemingly done with his girlfriend being interrogated.

“I swear to you I am no threat to your family. I didn’t even know of your existence until Kol revealed who and what he was. Vampires are kinda new territory for me. This is not some evil plot to harm you or any Mikaelson. You all have become my new pack, and you don’t hurt your own pack.” She swore.

“I shall allow you to stay, but be warned little wolf, I see even the slightest hint of your inevitable betrayal and I will end you and your brother.” Klaus threatened, but instead of being scared she just gave him a smile.

“I would expect nothing less.” She teased as she stood from the couch. “But just so you know, my old pack and I are hard to kill. Trust me, many have tried, yet here I am.”

Kol stood as well and took her hand as they left for her apartment on the other end of town. He pulled her close by her shoulder and kissed her head as they walked out of the compound.

-----------

When they finally made it back to her apartment, he could see her noticeably relax.

“I have to say, darling, I’ve never seen you kick ass before but I would love to see it again,” Kol murmured as he wrapped his arms around her waist and laid kisses on her neck. She giggled and tried to push him away.

“Stooop,” She whined as she tried to wiggle out of his grip.

Kol, unfortunately, refused to let her go and held her tighter as he relished in her laughter. Moments like this were his favorite because there was just joy in the air. All troubles forgotten and burdens lifted to make room for the contentment he felt when he was with her.

The two settled down on the couch and just sat cuddled up in silence for a while. Kol was the first to break it after about half an hour.

“Would you have ever told me?” He asked, looking down at his lover who suddenly seemed very interested in the couch.

She sighed and sat up. She hated this. She knew he would eventually ask this. And she dreaded it because she didn’t have a good answer. But she knew she had to give him something.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” She started, “My identity and my secret is the reason why I ran here in the first place. The danger became too great for my brother and me to stay together. We had to separate, at least for a little while. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” She paused as she recalled the day she had to say goodbye to her mother and brother. The physical pain she felt when she got on the plane without him. “I was scared.” she admitted, “I trust you, and I wanted to tell you so many times, but…”

“But what darling? Cm’on darling, I just want to know.”

“If my identity was found out, I would have had to leave again. Which would mean leaving you. And I couldn’t- I can’t lose you too. It would break me. Shatter me to a point that I would become volatile and dangerous to those who came across me. Because my heart’s been broken a few too many times for me to be able to come back from that.” She said quietly, not realizing that tears had begun to stream down her face.

Kol pulled her back into his arms and just held her.

“I swear to you my love, no one will keep me from you. Not even my brother.” He vowed.

[esamastation]

Somehow it leaks into the press that Cloud Strife is the bastard son of Late President ShinRa. Unrelated, the news is Vincent Valentine being the biological father of General Sephiroth also makes it into the news.

It begins with a news article.

It's nothing too shocking, at first. Old ShinRa scandals are gil-a-dozen now, with investigative reporters digging them up on particularly boring news cycles to shock and horrify the masses with all the terrible things that had been going on right under their noses. This week it's detail on all the cloning business, all about Jenova, the SOLDIER project, mako. That week it's about the countless people died in various human trials, be they medicine, materia or weapons. That week it's the waste of resources, how much money was wasted on useless, ridiculous projects for no other reason than because ShinRa had the money to spend.

There's always something new and thrilling to be dug up in the grave of ShinRa to entertain the masses and so it's become kind of mundane. You can only shock and awe people with the crimes of a select group of people so many times in a row before it becomes, more or less… mundane. And this article had seemed more of the same.

Affairs, Bastards and Coverups – the numerous scandals of the ShinRa Elite!

Cloud scanned the first lines of the article and then dismissed it. Some reporter has compiled months worth of data and stolen documents concerning the personal lives of the Shinra family the various heads of department – and it turned out that they were living it up in the lap of luxury, cheating on their spouses, having secret love children, covering them up with money and non-disclosure forms, oh my. It's nothing new – everyone knew the President had mistresses and bastards in every ShinRa town, and it's not surprising the others followed suit.

At least it wasn't yet another secret ShinRa super weapon about to kill them all, Cloud thinks, moves to throw the whole paper aside, when sub header further down the article catches his eye. At first he doesn't quite understand it – he sees his name in the papers plenty, and maybe it's a mistake, maybe it's something unrelated – maybe he misread… but no.

Cloud Strife – or is it Cloud Shinra?

Then, then he stops to read it the article in full – and what do you know, it does have some surprises after all. And not, it turns out, just for him.

-

Vincent announces his arrival by grinding gravel under his metal heel – and by pressing a cool beer can against Cloud's shoulder in silent offering.

Ah, Cloud thinks, and accepts it. "You knew?"

"Suspected it," Vincent agrees and sits beside him on the cliff, overlooking Edge and the Ruins of Midgar. He's holding the paper in hand. "There's a family resemblance."

Cloud hums and opens the can, reaching the paper. It's open on the Article, of course it is – Vincent has even highlighted sections of it. "Family resemblance," Cloud repeats, running a thumb over the underlines – pressed in hard with a ballpoint pen. "I don't know – definitely didn't inherit the old bastard's chin."

Vincent hums. "You and Rufus. There was also another Shinra bastard in company employment with files left – Lazard Deusericus. You all have very similar features."

Cloud frowns a little at that, trying to remember – but if he ever met Lazard, it's not coming to him. Zack might've known the guy, but… most of those memories were faded now. "Well," he says and turns the page to the second section of the article – dedicated entirely to the family drama of Professor Hojo, and the Child Stolen – Sephiroth.

How the reporter had found out so much about Vincent, Cloud has no idea, but they had his whole career as a Turk down – right down to his disappearance under mysterious circumstances in Nibelheim, and his resurface as one of the Heroes who Saved the Planet, decades later.

Of course, Cloud's crew has been in the public eye long enough that none of their lives are secret anymore – everything that could be found out about them had been by this point, and that included the mystery of Vincent Valentine, as well as Nanaki's history and Yuffie's royal heritage. So maybe it's not that big of a surprise, that people figured out the rest of it.

They hadn't done enough try to hide their histories, Cloud muses. They hadn't realised that it might be something they should do – not until it was too late.

"You don't seem surprised either," Vincent points out, glancing at the paper, and the picture of young Sephiroth on it.

"You ever see Sephiroth standing beside Hojo? Definitely no family resemblance there," Cloud muses, giving him a look. "Sephiroth was always too pretty to be Hojo's kid."

Vincent looks away, blowing out a slow breath into his scarf. Cloud takes a drink of the beer and then reads the pertinent lines again.

Really, what's most surprising about the whole damned thing is how surprising it still manages to be. None of this really matters anymore. ShinRa family is all but gone, Rufus is pretty much powerless, Sephiroth is trice-over-dead, even Hojo is properly back in his grave, and none of this actually affects anything anymore. They all had some suspicion, before, they all had some theories, so it's not a shock. Except that it is and it does affect things.

"The things we could've done," Cloud mutters wryly, shaking his head. "If only we'd known."

"Hmph," Vincent answers and relaxes a little. "It likely wouldn't have changed things. Not unless we had known… years before."

"Yeah, and even then I doubt ShinRa would've much cared, considering how those assholes went about dealing with their bastards," Cloud says and drops the paper in between them. "I probably would've gotten shot – and you did get shot."

"I did get shot," Vincent agrees. "I suppose it makes more sense now. Why he didn't… really, kill me."

Cloud grimaces at that and takes another drink. Yeah – Hojo could get rid of obstacles without qualms and not think about it twice, but what he did to Vincent, oh, that was personal wasn't it? It was probably revenge – and not just for loving the woman Hojo had wanted, but being the father of the son Hojo had coveted. And how like Hojo, to have a loose end of that magnitude, and then just… drop it, when it stopped entertaining him.

Maybe it'd been the same with Cloud – and Zack. They got their taste of Hojo's personal interest for daring to kill Sephiroth, and then Hojo dropped them too and moved onto whatever else interested him. It's been years now, and Cloud dares to think he's mostly over it, but thinking about it now… Had Hojo known about his relation to the Shinra family – had he cared? Had it made the whole thing that much more fun for the asshole, did he get some sadistic delight in tearing into his boss' progeny?

"Yeah," Cloud muses and lets out a quiet, smothered belch. "I don't know about you, but I really could've done without this knowledge."

Vincent hums in answer. "Truth is neither good or bad. It simply is," he says. "It is always better to know, than to wallow in ignorance."

Cloud makes a face and glances at him. "Speaking of wallowing, how personally are you taking this?" he asks then, looking him up and down. Vincent has the tendency of drowning in guilt and blaming himself, and this, as little as it changes things, as much as it morbidly just amuses Cloud…

Finding you're the bastard son of a dead rich guy is one thing – finding out you had a son and were part of killing said son, several times now, that's something else.

Vincent looks down and says nothing for a long, windswept moment. "Very," he says finally and shakes his head. "How else can I take it?"

"You must've suspected," Cloud says and then grimaces – shouldn't have said that.

"Well," Vincent answers, his voice dipping lower, almost inaudible. "I must have."

Cloud sighs and then reaches one hand over, rubbing it up and down along Vincent’s tense back, fingers snagging on belts through the ragged cape. "I'm sorry, Vincent," he says. "Really, sincerely sorry."

Vincent says nothing, but he doesn't move away from the touch, which for him is the same as leaning into someone's shoulder and wailing out in grief. Cloud lowers the can he's holding and then releases a sigh. The whole thing blows, really, and it changes nothing – just another scandal for people to be entertained by. Another horror to add into their ever growing collection.

But it's something to imagine it – if Vincent had known, if he could've done something about it. Half of the whole mess was the hellish upbringing Sephiroth got in Hojo's hands – if something had interrupted that, if someone, anyone, would've interfered, then maybe, just maybe... Cloud's relation probably wouldn't have mattered much, he was just one ShinRa bastard among many, but if Sephiroth got an actual loving upbringing… who knows.

Maybe the guy wouldn’t have gone megalomaniacal world ending monster on all of them. Who knows.

-

tentatively dipping my toes in the waters of ff7... it’s been a while, i don’t even know if i know how to write these guys anymore

[realcube]

ARCADE

summary ★ she needs to get the action figure that's in the claw machine for her sister’s birthday, so saiki does her the favour of using his a telekinesis to win it...along with a few other favours.

trigger warning ★ gambling, god, swearing, fem!reader & reader has a younger sister

construction on the new arcade near pk academy had finally come to an end. the grand opening was today after school so of course, nendou suggested that they attend as a squad. usually, saiki tried to avoid getting roped into outings like this but for a change, he actually agreed without the need for any further prying. that's because the arcade was attached to a small cinema where they'd be premiering the latest action movie — based on the TV show adaptation of the game — 'Olfana's Story X-2'. as it turns out, a few months after saiki gave the game a shot, it became a craze and a massive hit among speed-runners. so from it's new-found popularity, they developed a TV show series which inevitably flopped so now they have created a movie. only the most elite people among the gaming community were allow to see it before the official release date and they all said it was incredible; but there was not a doubt in saiki's mind that they were being paid to sing it's praise. a crappy game turned into a crappy show, now adapted into a movie was sure to be crappy. so you may be wondering why he even wanted to view the movie if he was set on it being awful. Well, there are two simple answers; curiosity and the mystery. since it was so exclusive, he had yet to overhear spoilers through his telekinesis and he now had a germanium ring in his possession so he could watch the movie in peace. also, having played the game but not seen the show, he was curious to see how bad the movie is going to be and perhaps he'd be able to get a good laugh out of it. but he made the mistake of mentioning his plan to see the movie which screened a few hours after the opening of the arcade, as now kuboyasu, nendou and kaidou were all going to see the movie along with him. In theory, it shouldn't be a problem since he'll have his germanium ring on but in practise, the world seems to be against saiki so one of his friends will probably end up stealing his popcorn or chatting throughout the entire movie. he'll just have to wait and see. kaidou and nendou did not even stop to take breaths as they raced on about how excited they were while they were all walking to the arcade. "i'm sure the movie is going to be sick!" kaidou exclaimed, followed by rapid head nods from nendou as he replied, "yup! And i can't wait to see what sort of games they have!" saiki was a bit excited himself but he didn't care to show it like the others did. but when he saw the vaporwave building covered with bright neon lights come into view, his lips curled into a small smile. though it was short-lived as he noticed the massive queue to get in; it appeared as though they weren't the only ones who had the idea to visit the arcade after school as he noticed many familiar faces standing in line, amongst crowds of others. all of their cheery auras dissipated for a few moments until kuboyasu perked up, approaching the doors to the arcade with a smug smirk, cutting in front of everyone in the line and gesturing for the boys to follow him, "don't worry about the queue, guys. follow me." nendou followed without any further questions but saiki and kaidou were a bit apprehensive. all three of them watched as kuboyasu stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the guard by one of the doors, muttering something in the man's ear, causing him to sweatdrop and hesitantly open the door with a shaky smile; allowing all four of them inside. "woah, that was awesome, aren!" kaidou yelled, not only out of awe but so he could be heard over all the cheering, laughing and game noises from inside the arcade. "yeah, that was so cool! but what did you say to that guy? he looked freaked out!" nendou inquired, surprising saiki with his actually intelligent observation. kuboyasu's hand found it's way behind his neck, rubbing it awkwardly as he chuckled, "oh, nothing! it's not important-- hey! how about you guys start playing your games and i'll go get the tickets we reserved, yeah?" "yeah!" kaidou and nendou cheered in unison, high-fiving the purple-haired boy before the all ran off in different directions, leaving saiki standing alone at the entrance. he fidgeted with his germanium ring, contemplating taking it off as he stared at kuboyasu; he really wanted to know what the teen boy could've said that'd incite such fear into a grown man, but he decided against it — merrily making his way towards the claw machines, leaving kuboyasu's secrets alone. ★★★★★★★★★★ "shit." he cursed under his breath as he watched the cyborg cider man plushie that he's been trying to win — for yuuta — for half an hour straight slip out of his grasp once again. 'these things are rigged. and what's the point in having psychic superpowers if i can't use them.' he thought to himself but had to quickly shake off the idea, as there was no way he could risk using his powers in such a crowded place, especially for a plush that wasn't even for himself but rather for an annoying kid. he sighed, slipping another coin into the slot and about to find the right state of mind until he heard a loud "fuck!"  from in front of him. his head jerked up, scanning the area for the source of the noise until his eyes landed on you. the claw machines were lined up, back-to-back, and playing on the machine diagonal from him was a girl with enchanting (e/c) eyes which contrasted greatly with her disheartened expression as she stared at the box. the only emotion she wore was sadness as she stared at the machine, so out of curiosity, saiki slipped off his ring in order to read her thoughts; feeling no guilt in listening to the affairs of a complete stranger. 'c'mon, stupid claw machine, i need this!' your silky yet whiny voice rung through his mind, 'what's she gonna think about me tomorrow when i tell her that i couldn't get her the gift she's wanted? she's gonna hate me- even more than she already does. and now i've spent all my money on this silly game so i can't even try get her a crappy gift with the little money i had. Wow, (y/n), you're the worst big sister in existence.' saiki cocked his head to the side, peering through the glass of the machines to see the contents of the claw machine you were standing in front of and when he saw the limited edition, silver cyborg cider man action figure sitting on a pedestal — almost as if it was taunting the poor girl — he finally connected the dots. your hand dug through your pockets until you found the smooth metal surface of your final coin, 'just once more try. if i win her this action figure, maybe she'll finally respect me as her big sister! and this toy will surely make her more happy than any gift mom could've possibly thought of. i'll make her sixth birthday one to remember!' the dejected look on your face slow lifted into a determined one, but it wasn't very convincing as saiki — and anyone else — could see the worry and shame in your eyes as you dropped your last coin into the slot of the machine, giving you one more chance to redeem yourself and claim the title of 'best big sister in the world'. saiki watched you maneuver the claw of the machine with bated breath, admiring how your pretty nose crinkled and your tongue poked out from the corners of your perfectly glossed lips in concentration — 'ew, stop being a simp, kusuo.' he mentally rebuked himself before engaging with your scene one again. your fist slammed down against the big red button, followed by the claw opening and lowering over the box of the cyborg cider man action figure, slowly closing it's jaws around the box and grasping it perfectly, resulting in a slight gasp to escape your throat as your lips pulled into a grin. the claw kept it's grip in the toy as it lifted up, slowly making it's way over the hole where it would drop the action figure, straight into your possession.  that is, if the grip didn't falter hence allowing the toy to fall down, off it's pedestal and onto the bottom of the compartment to join the rest of the more average action figures. "fuck!" you screamed in an almost identical way to which you did earlier, expect this one held more pain. 'this can't be happening; is this the third year in a row that i'm going to show up to my little sister's birthday party empty-handed?' you thought, your bottom lips quivering so you quickly bit down on it, staring at the damned toy before turning on your heels, shuffling away from the game with your head hung low, the thoughts which cried in your head about how much you budgeted and how hard you worked made saiki's heart sink. 'maybe i could take out a mortga--' your thoughts were abruptly cut off when you heard the noise of something falling behind you. whipping your head around to see what happened, you exhaled a sigh of relief upon seeing nothing out of the ordinary. however, you caught a glimpse of inside the machine which you had been cursing at and realised that the toy wasn't with the packaging peanuts where you left it, as if it magically disappeared in the few seconds you had averted your gaze. creeping up to it, your gaze darted around in search of anyone who might've won it in less than 5 seconds but that was unlikely. now that you were closer, you peered through the glass once more to confirm that the toy was in fact missing and you were right. recalling the noise of falling you heard just before you turned around, you dropped to your knees and lifted the flap to the compartment which held the good that people would win from the machine. you almost screamed with delight and shock when you laid eyes on the limited edition, cyborg cider man action figure that was tucked snugly inside. yanking it out, you pressed it to your chest and the tears you were choking back finally came running down your cheeks, but now they were from joy. "thank you, god." you whispered to yourself, making saiki chuckle from his spot at the claw machine which he hadn't moved from. he wasn't god — nor was he friends with god — but he didn't mind not being able to take the credit for his kind actions of using his psychokinesis to drop the box into the hole for you. honestly, he found that seeing you happy, sitting on the floor with brightest beam gracing your features along with your now cheerful thoughts in his head, was enough of a reward for him anyway. also, he appreciated how you didn't question how the box ended up in the hole and instead you just deemed it a miracle as you were too overjoyed to use logic; that sort of thinking saved saiki a lot of trouble. 'i should probably go home and wrap this.' your internal monologue had now calmed down slightly as you were now able to produce a thought that wasn't just a squeal of delight, 'hm, maybe once i am done i could come back and see the new movie that's premiering-- but i've not got much money left so i guess i shouldn't get ahead of myself.' you hummed, picking up the box along with yourself, dusting yourself off before heading towards the exit. saiki must've been staring for a tad too long though as you caught his gaze while brushing off your clothes. he cringed, instinctively darting his eyes away so you didn't think he was an ogling creep but the fact he appeared defensive probably didn't help. so he fully expected you to frown or cast him a dirty look, judging him for his actions but to his surprise, you simply chuckled. waving at the pink-haired boy before strolling off with the box under your arm. 'he seems cool. where i can get clips like those?' why were you thoughts making him blush like an idiot? time to put the germanium ring back on. ★★★★★★★★★★ as it turns out, nendou is surprisingly good at poker. he figured this out after he stumbled across the casino section of the arcade, and since he looks way older than seventeen, nobody questions it when he took a seat at one of the slot machines, under the impression that it was a fancy, old-timey arcade game. he was then offered a round of poker with some old dude with way too many gold teeth and nendou ended up taking the poor, stubborn guy's entire fortune. god-knows how many games with how-many people later, nendou was sitting on stacks of cash at a round table with a tired dealer, and two grown men — one crying into the shoulder of his arm-candy and the other weeping into the sleeve of his suit — while the three boys who had came to give him his ticket stood by, all wearing matching confused expressions. "uh, nendou." kuboyasu tapped his friend on the shoulder, waving the ticket in front of his face, "the movie is gonna start soon, we should start heading over there right now so we can buy snacks and get good seats." nendou raised an eyebrow, puzzled until he recalled that he was supposed to watch a movie today, "oh, that sounds cool and all but i'm having a lot of fun right here." he smiled, motioning to the large casino area. kuboyasu chuckled awkwardly, backing away from nendou slightly as he turned on his heels, ushering the two other boys away, "alright, well, have fun, nendou! don't stay out too late!" nendou sung an okay in response, sliding a kaidou some cash for the extortionate theatre snacks before he was rushed away by kuboyasu, the purple-haried boy not wanting to spend anymore time in the casino than needed. "if nendou isn't joining us for the movie then we have a spare ticket. here, saiki, you should have it!" "why me?" "uh, because you said you saw reita earlier. so if you see him again maybe you could offer him the spare ticket." 'absolutely not.' was vocalised as "sure." by saiki as he took the ticket from kuboyasu's outstretched hand, fiddling with it before stuffing it into his pocket along with his own ticket. "what i said to nendou was kinda an exaggeration" aren mused, glancing at his watch before looking up at his two pals, "we still have some time left before the movie starts. i'm gonna go handle some business — you two have fun, and try find reita!" kuboyasu said before pivoting on his heels in the direction of the staff only closet. the only thing saiki could think to do during this free-time was escape kaidou's pestering to play dance dance revolution — since saiki didn't want to dance, dance or revolute, he darted outside as soon as kuboyasu left, leaving kaidou alone and confused in the middle of the arcade. 'finally, fresh air.' saiki inhaled, filling his lungs with the cool air rather than the stuffy, arcade oxygen. scanning the surrounding area, his eyes caught a glimpse of a figure standing by the ATM, which he immediately recognised to be that of the girl he had helped earlier. so naturally, he flicked of his ring to figure out the reasoning behind the awkward look on her face. 'do i really want to withdraw money to see some stupid movie? i mean, i could leave that money to accumulate and buy something nicer later.' without thinking, saiki hummed in agreement with your thoughts as he had been in your position many times before. 'but then again, i should treat myself! when was the last time i saw a movie that wasn't pirated? hmm..' your indecisive thoughts matched perfectly with your conflicted expression as you stared through furrowed brows at the screen of the ATM. a soft breeze passed, followed by something light smacking against you face. you winced slightly, your hand snapping your cheek and grabbing at whatever it was; just by the texture, you could tell it was paper. holding it in front of you, upon further inspection you realised that the mysterious sheet that had flew into your possession was in fact a ticket to tonight's showing of 'Olfana's Story X-2'  row G, seat 9. you double, triple checked it out of fear that this may be a cruel prank but no, this was completely real! you cheered, bouncing up and down and away from the ATM since you no longer needed it's services as god had blew the desired item straight into your hands — or your face, rather. either way though, you were over the moon, clutching the ticket to your chest and basking in your second miracle of the day. unbeknownst to you, saiki's smile was almost as wide as your own. you thanked god for your relief and saiki had no problem with that; seeing your little happy dance and squeals with your free ticket was enough for him. but actually, perhaps he might benefit himself after all, since the ticket he had given you previous belonged to nendou. meaning that saiki was seated at row G, seat 10; right beside you. ★★★★★★★★★★ saiki forgot to send a few notes flying your way in the wind, so you walked into the theatre and took your seat, completely snackless since you couldn't afford the exorbitant prices that they sold food for at the cinema. but perhaps that wasn't all bad as it revealed the possibility for saiki to offer you some of his popcorn as a conversation-starter, as he's usually not too good at socialising with new people — forget starting a conversation. however, he didn't need to work up any sort of courage to talk to you as the first thing you did when you plopped down in your seat beside him was turn to him and chirp, "oh, you're the guy i saw at the claw machines earlier! i love your clip thingies." your buoyant-adrenaline allowing your to be more bold than usual. the movie had yet to start, low murmurs of chatter coming from across the theatre as the trailers played in the background, "yes. and thanks." 'good grief, curse myself for not being more talkative. she probably thinks i'm dull now. perhaps i should channel my inner nendou..if i have one.' instead of ending the conversation right there like he assumed you would, you continued talking and saiki was..glad? why did he want to interact with you so much? he spends most of his days trying to avoid interacting with people; why were you any different? "no problem- also, did you get what you were playing for?" you inquired, tapping your lip in genuine curiosity. his ring remained on his finger, despite the fact he wanted to know what you thought about him, he didn't want to invade your privacy any more than he already has. "no. did you?" "yeah, i did, actually!" you chirped, not noticing the smirk creeping onto saiki's lips as you were too engulfed in your memories, "i thought those games were rigged but maybe they're not 'cause i managed to win this super special action figure that my sister has been on the top of my sister's wishlist for like- forever! and her birthday is tomorrow so i'll be a--" you cut yourself off, crinkling your nose in embarrassment, "sorry, i'm over-sharing, aren't i?" your enthusiasm made his heart flutter in a way he wasn't used to, if you didn't know any better, he would have thought he was having a medical emergency. his eyes widened slightly as you halted in your speech, "no, you're fine." he said, the uncharacteristic softness in his voice catching the attention of his two pals sitting on the other side of him. you shook off his comment, "i mean, i'm telling you my life story and i don't even know your name." you said, laughing sheepishly at the reality of the reality of the situation. 

“saiki kusuo.” he blurted out without a second thought.

you blinked a few times, shocked that he’d give his details away so easily as you somewhat expected him to be more of a reserved type of guy but evidently, you were wrong. “uh, i’m (l/n) (y/n).” you choked, biting down on your bottom lip slightly before continuing you story as he seemed to wait expectantly, “as i was saying, today’s just been the best day ever! everything has been going so well, i’m a bit scared as to what is going to happen when it hits midnight.” 

saiki nodded along, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth before remembering his plan, “oh- would you like some?” he asked, offering you some popcorn from his bucket. unfortunately, the plan was a last-minute thing so he had only bought a small, but he still wasn’t opposed to sharing. 

you shook your head, trying to grin foolishly wide at his kind offer, “no thank you.” 

saiki nodded, about to open his mouth to reply until the blaring music from the beginning of the movie started, putting a swift end to your conversation — despite the fact saiki would much rather talk to you than watch the crappy movie — out of theatre etiquette. 

★★★★★★★★★★

it was worse than you or saiki could’ve ever imagined.

it was painfully trying not to burst out laughing right in middle of it or lean over and giggle in each other’s ear at the silly dialog but out of respect for the other people in the cinema, you both stayed silent and just cast each other occasional knowing glances whenever something cringey happened on screen. 

you both let out audible sighs of relief with the credits began to roll, accompanied by a slow indie song. “that was..something.” you mumbled, grabbing your purse and jumping to your feet, wanting to exit the building as soon as possible and hopefully leave your memories of the movie behind you. 

“definitely.” he snickered, absently flicking the side of his empty popcorn bucket, “i stopped paying attention once i finished my popcorn.” it felt weird to vocalise — or rather, telepathically communicate — the comments he’d usually keep to himself; why did he feel so comfortable speaking to someone he only just met?

he began gathering his things, stuffing all of his rubbish in the bucket so he could dispose of it all at once. his mind was fixated on crappiness of the movie and how a five-year-old could’ve shot a much better film, until you grabbed his attention by calling out his name, followed by a question which made him blood run cold.

“before i go, it gotta ask’ how’d you do it? or more importantly, why’d you do it?”

he blinked several times before putting on his best bewildered expression, with the idea that maybe if he played dumb, he could gaslight you into thinking that it never happened or that he had nothing to do with it. “what?”

“oh, don’t give me that!” you scoffed, narrowing your eyes at the boy, “i’m not stupid. every time something good happened to me, you were nearby. i’ve connected the dots so fess up. why did you do all those nice things for me? was it out of pity or are you that nice to everyone?”

“i’m that nice to everyone.”

“i don’t believe you.” you snapped, fixing your tone when you remembered that even though he was lying to you, he still helped you get the present for you sister and gave you his spare ticket. “i don’t care if you’re not gonna give me a straight answer, but at least let me make it up to you.”

he huffed, an unimpressed look covering his features before you even proposed your idea. there was really nothing he could possibly need from you. what were you going to give him that he wasn’t capable of obtaining on his own? so he frowned, ready to decline your offer. 

“i saw that you bought one of those jelly pots from the snack stand and i actually work at a little café in the town, so i might be able to get you few things for free or discounted?”

“yes.” wait, that wasn’t refusal. 

“great!” you chirped, glad that you wouldn’t have to pry further, “does later this week sounds good? we could meet up here then i can walk you to the café- or i could give you my number and we can arrange a date later?” 

“sure.” saiki said without thinking once again.

but it wasn’t as though he regretted it when you slipped the piece of paper you had scribbled your number onto, into the front pocket of his shirt, tapping it with a smile. “alright! i’ll see you later then- unless you want to walk home with me?” you fidgeted with your fingers slightly, instantly regretting what you just came out with. not because you didn’t want to walk with him, but due to the fact you highly doubted he was going so say accept so you mentally prepared for the impact of his harsh rejection.

“sure.”

★★★★★★★★★★

BONUS 

saiki ended up walking home with some girl he met at the theatre so that left kuboyasu and kaidou to fetch nendou once the film finished. they both searched the casino area for almost half an hour but neither of them had any luck finding nendou. that was, until kuboyasu had to take a step outside to escape the casino as he noticed an old friend of his playing on the slot machines, and he found nendou crouched by the garbage cans, on his phone. 

“nendou! we’ve been looking all over for you- why are you out here by the trash? and what happened to all your money?!”

nendou chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with his spare hand, “fun story actually. i was doing so well and i was on my way to becoming a millionaire until these schoolgirls came marching in and absolutely slaughtered me! it was so embarrassing and the only way i could escape them was by running away so i hid back here.”

kuboyasu’s aura just screamed ‘disappointed but not surprised’, “so you’re telling me that you lost millions to highschool girls?”

“they might’ve been middle-schoolers, i’m not too sure. i didn’t get a very good look at ‘em but they were all wearing creepy red uniforms.”

all kuboyasu could do was massage his temples to ease his headache at the stupidity of his friends, “so you lost all your money to school girls in creepy red uniforms?” he repeated aloud, just to make sure he was hearing things correctly.

“yes. but not all my money.” he said, pulling out his wallet and grandly opening it to reveal a few notes and a button, “i’ve still got enough to spend on ramen with my bros!”

[indianaclems]

Raya x Namaari, sad/ bittersweet story

Namaari have 46 years old when Raya died (to remind Virana at ≈45 years old in the film). Nur is their 1st daughter she have 20years od and Long ils their 2nd child ,they is enby, they has 16years old.

She takes refuge in her work to fill the void in her wife, and sometimes she lets off steam in training, but when she is alone in the evening she talks to her while looking at the sky, she does that at least every evening.

I intend to write Raya's death, but first I will give you a passage where Namaari addresses her after she leaves to join the world of dragons and stars.

Now I have two evening star

Since Raya's death, the whole family was in mourning, the Kumandra too, a tribute in all the lands had been paid to her and it was the most difficult task that Namaari had faced, the pain of organizing the funeral of her own wife, Raya, the one she married 23 years ago.

She was, her first and only love, her obsession for 6 years, the woman of her life, the mother of her children, and here she is again being her greatest pain.

Her daughter Nur, had stayed by her side at the beginning and then quickly left on a mission to stop thinking about the loss of her mother. She took after her Namaari when it came to taking refuge in work. However the head of Fang was not reassured to know her daughter far from her after the tragic disappearance of her wife. Especially when her daughter was going off to join Fang's elite army.

As for their second children Long, they continued their training near Benja to be guardian of the dragon stone in turn, a guardian as strong as their mother was, and to take over as emissary of the title kumandra which they inherited from Raya.

So what remains in Namaari is her duty for her people and therefore her work, so she has the attitude of a chief who devotes herself to the vast majority of her time for her people, where when she had Raya and her children close to her, she could be much more lighthearted and was even obliged, between her duty as a mother and as a wife (for her greatest happiness).

She has to make sure that before she leaves to join Raya, everything is ready for the succession and that the kumandra will be stable for Nur and Long, she has a lot of work to do alone.

Fortunately, her children still come to see her regularly, which makes her smile. Sometimes it hurts her especially at the beginning, her children remind her a lot of her wife, it was so bitter, everything reminded her of the one she had loved and would always love, everything reminded him of her absence.

Then by following her children reminded her of Raya in a positive way: her adorable face, her mischievous but generous character, her mischievousness, her intelligence, her fighting abilities, her quirks. Here, maybe even see that she will look at the sky, or a place that Raya liked to occupy, her tomb or a portrait to tell her "look how beautiful our children are, I hope you are proud and at peace, I watch on them you have nothing to fear" or "they are your kids, I had to prevent Nur from poisoning Long with your jackfruit, but when did you take the time to teach her this forbidden weapon?! You you're lucky I can't kick your ass".

However, Raya's disappearance was not without consequences for the former leader of Heart, who had been through so much but could not bear to lose his daughter again, which is why, over the years, the state of Benja's health has weakened. Namaari had contacted all the warriors and even asked the dragons to come to the aid of his brave father-in-law. After 3 years Chef Benja, then aged 63, passed away, passing on his torch to new generations.

Tonight Namaari was exhausted from all this, the work, the weight of responsibilities, the fatigue, because Namaari took the lead of the two lands before she was in co-go governance with her daughter, thus ensuring a smooth transition for her daughter. bereaved, who had to face the responsibilities, and for the people. Namaari was exhausted by the sadness, the pain, that of a new mourning, the one that a mother was interriorisizing in order to take the pain of her children in order to relieve them, simply out of love.

She was suffering from the lack of affection: the lack of her wife, the lack of his growing children, she got up and looked at the moon which lit up the sky of Fang as well as her room like so many times before, a moon that Raya loved to contemplate all like the stars

Namaari: Đẹp lạ it's really hard at the moment, your disappearance is I think what precipitated your father to join you, even if he offered us beautiful last years, whether it was to overcome your mourning, even if I don't know if one day I will totally do it, or to prepare for the sequel, he did a huge job, Fang was so wrong at the time that he and your people, you will tell me that is in the past... But I don't really have a choice but to refer to it every time I talk to you *sob* yet there's not a day when I don't think of you... Anyway Nur will take over, I wish you could see that, you would be so proud. We are necessarily all upset by the death of your ba you know... The children adored him, and I cared a lot for him, I can't believe he's forgiven me and that he gave me your hand, he was always a good man. So that Nur isn't too much to deal with, suddenly I'm going to take my role as Princess-consort of Heart and transition and while I'm alive after Nur's enthronement, I'll be leading with her the time that our lands are unified... I think that this way the changes will not be too sudden for our peoples and for the kumandra. Time flies incredibly fast but it feels like it's heavy and exhausting sometimes without you, I hope I make the right decisions, I don't just do it for Fang and Heart but for Kumandra. You're going to yell at me again but I have to go back to my papers, good night my love.