#i thought we already were past the 'surface level reading' stage when it came to afo and tomura

[helga-grinduil]

can someone please explain to me how afo reveal 'absolves' nana and kotarou? i mean, nothing about nana's actions and etc changed with this reveal. literally zero. she still chose to keep ofa with herself instead of passing it on. she still sacrificed her own happiness for the sake of others and hurt her son by doing what was right. it only confirmed that what she did was for nothing.

afo didn't manipulate kotarou to hate heroes and didn't suggest being strict with tenko, he only encouraged him ALREADY being strict with tenko. and lord, okay, you can argue that kotarou's trauma was the result of afo hunting down and killing ofa holders (nana included) and their families, but we knew that since, like, forever. why did this become a deal breaker only now???

why are we taking afo's words about tomura having no agency literally? what is this, 2019???

[retrievablememories]

the second time around | jaehyun

title: the second time around pairing: jaehyun x reader genre: fluff, some angst request: “Hi! Here’s a suggestion for a story or add-on to another story you wrote. I really liked moonlight w/ jaehyun! Could you do a follow up with him not seeing her for awhile and him (and her secretly) being pissed about it but wants to reconnect with her but outside of being a customer. Ty and keep up the good work with your writing.” word count: 2.9k warnings: a couple mentions of sex a/n: hmm...the sequel to moonlight...sequels are scary to write but here we are lol. this could’ve been posted last sunday really but i’ve been stalling oof

Despite getting Jaehyun’s number after that night at the strip club, you’ve seen and heard a lot less of him than you’d like. On his end, Jaehyun isn’t so pleased about losing touch either, but you wouldn’t know that with the lack of communication.

Both of you are ultimately busy with your own lives, and it’s not like he can just drop in whenever he wants to visit you. Not just because he’s busy, but also because of where you work. The men keep their visits to the club on a once-a-month basis for a reason—to avoid tipping off any stalkers who’d find out and leak their whereabouts.

You’ve texted each other a few times since your first meeting, and you enjoyed the conversations you got to have within that timespan, but the time between responses kept getting longer—on both of your ends—until things eventually dropped off.

You were unhappy about this, though you tried not to be so obvious about it to the other girls. Getting attached to customers was not a good look. Even if they were handsome and nice and had good dick.

However, Anya was the first to notice your slightly sour mood despite your best efforts to project an unphased demeanor. And, being her usual nosy self, she managed to pry it out of you before you could even think about denying it.

“Don’t stress about it,” she’d told you on the night you finally spilled the beans. She’d wrapped her arms around your shoulders and tipped your chin up, making you hold your head up higher and look at yourself in the mirror reflection facing you. “There will be many more men where he came from. And if you don’t wanna deal with any more men right now, that’s fine too. He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on, anyway.”

“I’m not stressing over it,” you’d argued, sighing. “We don’t stress over men who aren’t boyfriends, remember?”

Anya grinned then, though you could tell it was the kind of smile you give when a friend is doing something they shouldn’t be—or indulging in something they think is good for them when it’s not. “Duh. But you might wanna start following your own advice if you’re gonna be dishing it out!” And then she’d gone off to do her own thing, probably to finish getting ready for her set later that night or to go bother one of her favorite bartenders.

You’d looked at yourself in the mirror more closely, frowning at the truthfulness of her statement and wishing you had not been quite so easy to read. You’d had a show right after that, which allowed you to take your mind off the mess for at least a few hours. But in the small moments when you weren’t thinking about work or school or anything else you had to do, Jaehyun crept back into your mind like a specter, wanting you to acknowledge him even though you weren’t getting the same.

When you head out to the parking lot after a particularly long night, you slow your steps when you see a man leaning against his car, his cap pulled over his eyes and his head low. In any other scenario, you probably would’ve alerted one of the bouncers, thinking he was some creep waiting until after your stage to try to corner you in a shady area. However, you hold off on calling anybody because you can clearly recognize him even if he thinks he’s being inconspicuous—it’s Jaehyun.

He lifts his head when he hears your shoes on the ground, and his lips turn up into something of a smile.

“If you wanted another dance, you’re a bit late. We just closed,” you say jokingly, raising an eyebrow at him. Jaehyun shakes his head.

“Tempting idea, but that’s not what I came here for.” He turns to face you fully now, observing you in your casual, after-work clothes. In the back of your mind, you realize this is the first time he’s seen you outside the context of performing. Then he sighs. “It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you.”

“I know.” Your familiar irritation rises again. Sure, maybe him coming to see you or you going to see him more often isn’t feasible. A text or a call, though...would be decidedly less effort, and not difficult to do. You’re not sure whether to be more irritated with him or yourself about not trying to reach out again, though you decide to aim your annoyance at him just because you can.

Jaehyun nods to your agreement. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been fine,” you say. “Work is...work. It has its ups and downs. How are you? Busy with the idol life?”

Jaehyun sighs. “Yeah...it just gets…stressful sometimes.” He bites his lip and shakes his head, seeming bothered about whatever’s going on with his job but not wanting to say much more about it.

“I’m sure,” you respond, and you don’t really know what to say afterwards. It’s been a while since either of you talked, and it’s strangely hard to try to pick up where you left off as if nothing happened. Jaehyun realizes this, too, and appears distressed at not knowing how to keep the conversation going with you—and possibly wasting your time.

You nod to yourself and shift on your feet. “Well, the Uber will probably be here soon, so—”

“I don’t know what things will look like between us, but I don’t want us to fall out of contact again,” Jaehyun blurts out, then winces. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just...don’t want either of us to leave before we...sort this out, I guess.”

You think to yourself, wondering if this is really worth trying to pursue. You’ve yet to deal with a man with the level of fame that Jaehyun has, yet with such a strict image to keep, which makes things exponentially more complicated. But despite your apprehension, you still want to know where this could lead. After a moment, you say, “Well, if you’re willing...I’d like the same.”

Jaehyun nods and stands up a little straighter, like that response just gave him the energy he needed. “Do you wanna….go somewhere? Just to like, hang out.” His proposition is abrupt, and you didn’t expect it. 

“Now?” You check your phone, and it’s 18 minutes past 2 a.m. There aren’t too many places that will still be open at this hour, other than establishments similar to your line of work, but you aren’t in the mood for any more of that tonight. Your driver, too, is only a few minutes away, but you already find yourself with your finger hovering over the Cancel button. “We could.”

Jaehyun goes around to the passenger side of the car and opens the door for you. You get into his car, noting its sleek interior. Once he gets in, he asks you what you want to hear, and you notice he’s looking through his Spotify. You shrug.

“I don’t know. Show me something you like,” you say. You cringe at sounding so disinterested, which makes you realize you might just be a little more upset about being ghosted than you thought you were. You almost want to curse at how this dude is taking you off your usual game. “I mean, I like hearing new music anyway, so…”

Jaehyun starts the car and grins slightly. “Alright, then let me show you the best of the best…” You both end up listening and vibing to a playlist he’s made, which is good. Not that you didn’t expect it to be, but you end up liking most of the songs he shows you, which usually doesn’t happen with other people’s playlists.

Jaehyun ends up taking you to an ice cream place that’s still open this late, to your surprise. The sitting area inside the store is closed, though they’ve kept the drive-thru open for late-night travelers like yourselves who want a quick treat. You don’t question it, though; you definitely won’t pass up a chance for some ice cream.

You end up eating the ice cream while sitting in his car and listening to the rest of his playlist. Neither of you say much other than commenting on the songs or talking about your favorite ice cream flavors or making other non-committal small talk. You kind of prefer it this way, at least for the moment—just listening to the music and watching the headlights and taillights of cars that pass by.

You and Jaehyun ride around the city for a while longer after finishing the ice cream, not intending to go anywhere in particular but just coasting on the highways. It might be an excuse to keep listening to this new playlist he’s put on, or maybe more reason to pretend that awkward period between you never happened. Acknowledging it in a way, but not speaking any life into it. 

Eventually, though, it has to arise back to the surface. Jaehyun taps his fingers against the steering wheel at a red light, like he’s impatient to get somewhere, and you wonder what he’s feeling until he comes out and says,

“I think it was...ultimately my fault for not contacting you more. Or not trying to stay in contact.”

The words hang in the air for a moment. “Well, I won’t argue with that,” you finally respond.

“It’s just hard to get close to anyone and be an idol at the same time. Sometimes I sabotage myself when I shouldn’t, and…” He trails off, though you don’t know whether he’s searching for the words or has decided to leave his sentence at that.

“You’d rather not be embarrassed by dating a stripper, or something along those lines?” Your tone is nonchalant, though you’re a little bothered by saying it. He wouldn’t be the first or the last person to feel some type of way about your job, though you’ve mostly gotten used to the judgment at this point.

Jaehyun seems a bit startled by the statement. “If you like doing it, then I don’t care what you do. You should live your life however you want to.”

“I see,” you say slowly. “Most men I meet outside of the club are not receptive to it, so you ain’t gotta lie if you feel some other way about it, seriously...”

“I’m serious,” he insists. “You told me that day that you liked it, and I believed you. I just think...we should all be able to do things we enjoy without worrying about what others think of it.”

Jaehyun turns to look at you for a moment, and his features are lit up by the street light as it turns green. His face, which is simultaneously painted with shadows and glowing with light, appears to be just as genuine as he sounds. Or maybe this late-night atmosphere just has you feeling more receptive and sentimental than usual. Then he broaches the next subject carefully, steering you back to where the conversation began. “You didn’t text me anymore, either.”

“I figured you’d moved on or something, maybe started talking to someone else…” you reply. “And, you know, if that was the case...so be it. There wouldn’t be a point to chasing someone who wasn’t interested anymore.”

“I am interested.” Jaehyun rushes the words out, like he’s eager to dispel the uncertainty before you get the wrong idea; not that that hasn’t already happened, but still. It isn’t too late to change your mind. “I want to like, know you as a person...not just while being a customer at the club, or something like that.”

You nod, looking at your hands and considering his words. “We can do that...yeah, we can.” Then you hold your hand out to him, a grin playing on your lips. “Nice to meet you, then. I’m Y/N.”

He smiles too, and takes your hand in one of his. “I’m Jaehyun.”

The conversation after that seems to reach a turning point, like somehow you’ve broken the ice and can finally talk to each other on a deeper level without worrying about the issue that’s been lingering over your heads all night. You think you could talk to him like this for hours if you wanted to, if there was enough time in the world for it. 

Unfortunately, though, you don’t have as much time as you’d like, and once it starts edging on 4 AM, you both decide it’s probably best to call it a night. Jaehyun takes you back to your apartment after you tell him where it is.

He parks in front of the apartment complex, and you’re prepared to thank him for the night and get out, but he insists on walking you up to your apartment—something about it being too dangerous for women to walk alone at night.

“It’s not that far.” You laugh, but you aren’t going to argue about it if it means getting a few more moments with him.

Jaehyun follows you up the steps after you both get out of the car. You walk a little slower to prolong the moment, but eventually you have to get up to your apartment door. You also take your time with taking your keys out of your bag and putting them in the lock. And maybe you’re not as slick as you thought, because Jaehyun notices. He laughs quietly behind you, but the sound isn’t low enough to escape your hearing.

You turn around to look at him, your hand on the doorknob. “Well, I guess that’s it. Thanks for the ride...and for the ice cream, you know.”

He nods, and one of his dimples pokes out. “You didn’t have to entertain me tonight, but I’m glad you did...so, thanks.”

Both of you linger in your doorway for a few more moments. Jaehyun wants to come in, and you know it, but you also know he probably won’t say it because he technically shouldn’t. His members are expecting him back at the dorm. He doesn’t want to impose, and he didn’t even bring any extra clothes. But you know he wants to come in, and you want it, too.

You tilt your head to the side. “Would it be bad if I asked you to stay?” you say tentatively.

A slow smile spreads on his face. “No, it wouldn’t.”

You open the door wider so he can step inside and take his shoes off at the entrance. You lead him to your living room by the hand. “What do you wanna do?” you ask, looking at him imploringly. You want to be sure you’re both on the same page concerning your intentions.

“Whatever you wanna do,” he echoes, holding your hand a bit tighter. You expect to see lust or some similar desire in his expression and had already figured you might end up having sex again tonight, but his eyes expect nothing from you. He only smiles in the dim light of your apartment and waits for you to make the next move.

You laugh, and it comes out as an airy chuckle. “Well, then...I want to lay down. It’s been a long day.” From your tone, Jaehyun understands that you really just want to lie down and not think about much of anything else right now. He follows you when you lead him into your bedroom and sits patiently on your bed while you go to the bathroom to change into your night clothes. You’re thankful you already took a shower at the club, because you’re not sure you’d have the energy to do all that now.

He’s taken his jeans off when you come back into the room, though he still keeps his shirt on. You get onto the bed and lean over him, hooking your finger into the collar of his shirt, and he looks up at you. “You can take this off if you want, I don’t care.”

“Is this you saying you want to see me shirtless?” He grins, though he readily takes the invitation and pulls his shirt off, placing it to the side along with his pants.

You shake your head good-naturedly, a smile on your face. “I promise it’s innocent…but the view never hurts.”

You peel the sheets back and you both climb underneath them, lying across from each other and looking at each other like you want to say something more but aren’t sure what. There isn’t much light in the room except for the street lights coming from your bedroom window, muted slightly by the blinds.

Jaehyun laughs suddenly, breaking the silence, and you do the same. You’re not sure why either of you are laughing, but you do so anyway, simply enjoying the moment for what it is. After your laughter dies down, he takes your hand from where it’s resting on the pillow and slips his pinky around yours. “I’ll try not to lose you this time.”

You lean a little closer to his face so you can plant a kiss on his lips—just a short and soft touch. He tastes like ice cream, and somehow you know there will be many more kisses like this in the future. “You better not.”

[bytheangell]

If you are still taking prompts, what would you think about writing something(s) based off of this, either/both, the Professor/TA, or the Writer/Editor?

Dedication (modern AU, Herongraystairs, check the link in the ask for full writer/editor prompt, a wonderful plot idea by @high-warlock-of-brooklyn!) (Read on AO3)

This is the first book Will and Tessa are collaborating on. They’ve written plenty of books individually and Jem’s worked with each of them in turn. But this is the first time they’ve co-authored, an experience that’s proving unique and challenging for all of them.

Being with Will and Tessa while they work on a new project is always a blessing and a curse. They’re two of the best writers of their generation and when they work on their own they’re brilliant, but when they work together - well, they’re also brilliant, but that brilliance is coupled with the occasional near-catastrophic clash of opinions and emotions.

Which is where Jem comes in.

Where Will and Tessa are so driven by passion and feelings, Jem finds it much easier to distance himself from their project (and from the writers themselves) enough to see the bigger picture and find solutions before the issues build up. Like many things about the three of them, it’s a perfect balance - they just work, better than anyone (including Will, Tessa, and Jem) ever imagined possible when they first got together.

It’d been a messy start, with Will and Jem already together but both developing serious feelings for Tessa after they met during a book event. The three of them quickly became very close. There were whispers of which of them would end up leaving, then confusion when the answer was none: instead of two of them growing closer and shutting the third out, they all seemed to adjust and adapt naturally around the three of them coexisting. They aren’t perfect, but they are perfect for each other, at least as far as Jem’s concerned.

Jem knows that what they have is special, which he reminds himself of over and over as Will and Tessa sit on opposite sides of the sofa, voices quickly elevating to nearly shouting over an issue with one of the characters Will is in charge of writing: one he’s chosen to give a pretty damning curse from a trickster faerie in this land of magic their current collaboration is set in.

“Tell him he needs to make the changes, Jem,” Tessa insists, the third time she’s repeated the demand now.

“Tell her that this plot adds depth, and without it, he’s boring,” Will counters. “Sometimes people - characters - need to be brutally honest about their own faults and issues. Sometimes people are disappointing.”

That’s how Jem can tell things are spiraling: when Will and Tessa - who have effectively communicated and collaborated on half a dozen bestsellers and who love each other more than Jem’s ever seen two people experience love - refuse to speak directly to one another. The moment they start talking around each other and at Jem instead is when he knows he has to step in and diffuse.

Usually, it’s a matter of taking a break, getting some fresh air, and coming back with clear minds. Jem normally isn’t one to pick sides, but this is different. He isn’t worried about the direction of the book… but after reading the latest draft from Will, which Will wrote while refusing to speak to either of them for a full week, he’s worried about Will. And he knows Tessa is, too.

“Perhaps a good starting point would be admitting this isn’t really about the character at all,” Jem says softly, gazing closely between Will and Tessa. Will looks a bit guilty and Tessa looks away entirely, which tells Jem that he’s right in guessing their concerns are also less plot-based.

“...what else would it be about?” Will asks defensively. But they can all sense how he’s been pushing them away lately, much like the cursed character undeserving of love he’s written in. It’s obvious that Tessa isn’t sure how to bring it up or else she would’ve already. Or maybe she already had and it hadn’t gone well.

“Tessa, would you mind making some tea?” Jem asks, waiting until she’s out of the room to turn back to Will.

“Will… you know this is about you. You barely talk to anyone for a week then come back with this character in such a self-deprecating mindset…”

“That’s ridiculous. He’s just a character,” Will says, but Jem can tell he’s entirely unconvinced of his own words.

“So if Tess came back having written Evangeline that way?” Jem counters, and there’s that look of subtle guilt, right back on Will’s face as he frowns and pieces together why Tessa’s so upset with him.

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” Will sighs.

“We’re not mad at you,” Jem’s quick to point out. “We’re just worried. It’s been a while since you tried to push us away like this, I just want to make sure you’re okay. We both do. Take it out in the writing if you want, but talk with us, too. Alright, my love?”

Jem’s tense as he waits. This has one of two options: Will relents and listens to him and they all have tea and talk this out, or Will storms out and they don’t see him again for another day or two.

Will stays. “I’m just letting the pressure get to me,” he admits. “I’m sure that’s all it is... But yeah. Okay. Tea.”

Tea, meaning ‘I’ll stay. I’ll talk. I’ll try.’ Jem leans over and places a barely-there kiss on Will’s lips before he relaxes back in his seat. Reaching out a hand that Will readily takes, Jem gives it a tight squeeze as they both wait for Tessa to return.

They talk.

In the end, the character arc stays. With a few redeeming modifications at Tessa and Jem’s entirely unbiased suggestion, of course.

---

A little over halfway through the first draft things seem to stall out. They have a progress deadline that week with the publisher and they’re cutting it close - mostly because Tessa keeps tossing everything she writes without giving Jem the chance to look it over. Recently she’s let her curiosity get the best of her, delving into research she should be allowing Jem to help with.

...and when he says ‘delving’, what he really means is stubbornly obsessing over, nitpicking bits of lore to streamline, and doing hours and hours of research for single-line references.

“When was the last time she slept? Like, an actual night of sleep?” Jem asks Will one day after a quick touch-base meeting that went… not terribly, but not particularly great, either.

“You need to get her out of here. No books. No wifi. I tried to kick her out but… well, you can imagine how well that went,” Will admits, and Jem winces in sympathy.

“The Time Out Cottage?” Jem asks, referring to a small cottage they own for unplugged getaways, where the wifi signal is nonexistent and a landline exists for emergency calls. “That means we’ll both be out of easy reach, and with that Friday deadline-”

“I can handle it,” Will cuts him off. “She’s been getting in her own way for days now, but she refuses to listen to me.”

A few minutes later Jem tentatively knocks on the door to the small study that does, in fact, look more like a makeshift research library. He nearly doesn’t see Tessa behind the small mountain of books on the floor, but he hears her pen tapping rapidly against the hardwood. No, not just rapidly - anxiously. He knows that action all too well.

“Tessa, what number is that?” he asks, the question needing no further explanation past his accusatory tone and pointed look at a coffee mug, which is next to a second coffee mug, which is next to a cup of black tea.

“Four? No, wait… what time is it?” she glances around and seems surprised by the height of the sun in the sky. “It’s afternoon already?”

Jem sighs. “It’s nearly four o’clock, Tessa, and your blood is probably about 90% caffeine. Come on, get your things, we’re taking a trip.”

Tessa looks immediately horrified. “No! I can’t, we can’t! The deadline, and I still have to streamline the fae lore between the two-”

“Will has it handled for 24 hours. That’s all we’re asking. 24 hours without research.” “Jem, you know-”

“-that you’ll be twice as productive once we’re back and you’re refreshed instead of running on fumes and fever dreams?” Jem cuts her off, his tone kind but insistent. He bends over and picks up a piece of paper. “Tessa, my love, this is nearly incoherent.”

Tessa reaches up to take the page from him and frowns. “I… okay, I can make out some of this, but I’m pretty sure that bit talks about aliens which isn’t any more reassuring. Will did say I was writing myself in circles, but I thought he was just, well, being Will, so... Yeah. Okay. Maybe I need to step back for a bit.” Tessa sighs. “The Time Out Cottage?”

“I already packed you a bag,” Jem confirms with a soft smile, leaning down to kiss the middle of her forehead before reaching out a hand to help her up off the floor.

When they return exactly 24 hours later, Tessa gets back to work and the lore practically falls into place between the two of them.

They meet the Friday deadline without a problem.

---

Jem spends his free time playing violin while Will and Tessa go through the first draft and begin to brainstorm fixes for plotholes, new minor characters to add to scenes that feel a bit lacking, and other small improvements to really round out the story and the world they’re weaving. They both claim to think clearer with his music in the background so he stays, even if he doesn’t feel particularly useful for this stage of the process until they have a single, coherent draft to hand over to him.

These are the moments Jem’s own insecurities and flaws float to the surface. The moments he watches Will and Tessa, so alike, so perfect for each other, connect on a level he isn’t privy to. He knows it’s a silly thought, that he and Will have their own things, as do he and Tessa. But sometimes he wonders if they truly need him around, or if he’s simply just become too much a part of the routine to actively get rid of.

He watches them sit next to each other with shoulders touching, hunched over a small screen, whispering back and forth. There’s a small smile on his face, one that’s wistful and tinged with hints of longing that, much to his dismay, they pick up on.

“I know that look,” Tessa says, catching Jem’s gaze and drawing Will’s attention before Jem can wipe the expression from his face. “Get over here. I think we’ve done enough work for today.”

Will is the first to move over, making room for Jem in the middle of them. After placing his violin back in its case Jem heads over to join them on the sofa, embracing the way Will and Tessa immediately crowd into his space once he’s settled, both placing a comforting kiss to his temples simultaneously before resting their heads on each of his shoulders and a placing a hand in each of his own.

They talk a bit, not about the book, but about anything and everything else, and fall asleep there, still entwined together.

---

It’s rare for any part of one of their books to be a surprise to Jem upon publication. He sees all the drafts, talks them through the acknowledgments and dedications, double-checks the reference pages against the chaotic piles of books and notes around their home.

So he’s immediately (and rightfully) suspicious the moment they hand him the first advanced copy and tell him to open it, watching his every move with eager expressions. Excited, but anxious.

‘A dedication to the one most dedicated to us:

This book would not be what it is without the kind heart, encouraging words, and infinite patience of James Carstairs. Neither would we. Jem, you are a light in our darkest hours, and we don’t know where we’d be without you.

We hope we’ll never have to find out.

Jem, our love, will you marry us?’

Jem reads, then re-reads the dedication. He closes the book, then opens it again, reading it a third time for good measure.

“Well?” Will asks impatiently, earning himself a nudge in the ribs from Tessa. Will huffs.

“I see you’re as dramatic as always,” Jem says quietly, instead of answering the question posed in the book. He knows his answer. He’s known for a while now what his answer would be, should the topic ever present itself, but he gets a bit of joy from making Will wait in anticipation just a short while longer.

“He wanted to be even more dramatic and show you at the event tomorrow,” Tessa admits. “But we decided against it. We thought you deserved the chance to say no without two hundred sets of eyes on you.”

Jem raises an eyebrow. “You think I’ll say no?”

“You haven’t said ‘yes’ yet,” Will points out, but he doesn’t sound nervous about it. Nor should he be.

“Yes,” Jem says, smiling brightly. “Of course it’s yes.”

[electrickoushi]

cook me up some love

a/n: my first work in my valentine’s series! i literally wrote this at 6am because i woke up and couldn’t sleep, so if something doesn’t make sense.... please ignore haha. thank you for reading :) 

pairing: miya osamu x suna rintarou tags: fluff, like 4 suggestive lines, the word kink twice at the end wc: 1.7k 

Rintarou can’t remember when or why he agreed to working as the cashier at Onigiri Miya on Valentine’s Day, yet here he is, ringing couples up who are actually getting the chance to enjoy their special day. Naturally, his sour mood doesn’t go unnoticed by Osamu though, who had planned a special surprise for his boyfriend all along.

The restaurant smelled like spices and ingredients and whatever the hell else Osamu put into his cooking.

Rintarou clicked the button on the register with his index finger to open and close the drawer with a ding each time. His face rested on his hand, squishing his cheek and molding his expression into one of pure boredom.

“Excuse me.”

Rintarou looked up to find a couple waiting to pay for their meal. He wordlessly took the receipt, entered the total, took their money or swiped their card, gave them their change if they had any, stabbed the receipt onto the pointy thing, gave them another receipt, wished them a Happy Valentine’s Day, and returned to playing with the register.

This happened countless times until Rintarou felt the angry eyes of his boyfriend on his back. He gulped. Everyone knew you didn’t mess with Osamu when it came to his cooking and restaurant.

“Rin, please stop that. I've had multiple customers complain about you.”

At least he’s still using a nickname, which means I can’t be in too much trouble.

“Sorry.” He clicked it again, the register drawer flying open.

“Rintarou!” Osamu growled.

Oh, he was in for it now.

Osamu was already sweaty and stressed from being the head chef of the kitchen. His boyfriend’s antics that were driving away customers was just the cherry on top to an already difficult evening.

“You, watch the register,” Osamu snapped. “I need to have a talk with Suna here.”

Oh God, last name basis. That’s bad.

He dragged the faux cashier into the storage room where they wouldn’t be bothered and Osamu could properly yell at him without disrupting the customers.

At least, that’s what Rintarou thought.

Instead, when Osamu shut the door, he turned around and hugged Rintarou.

“I’m sorry for making you work tonight. I know you’d rather be at home, watching a movie or something.”

Rintarou was surprised but wrapped his arms around Osamu’s shoulders. “I just want to be with you. I hate seeing all these couples enjoying their Valentine’s Day while you’re stuck in the kitchen. I hardly ever get to see you.”

Osamu kissed his boyfriend’s cheek, taking in a whiff of his cologne. He ran a hand through Rintarou’s brown hair and felt him soften at the touch. “I know, but I have a surprise for later tonight. Didn’t you wonder why I decided to close early on such a profitable night?”

“Nine is considered early?”

“For a day like this, yes. So just work a few more hours for me and then we close, and I’ll have your surprise all ready. Can you do that?”

Rintarou found himself nodding along, enjoying the way Osamu’s hand felt running along his scalp and his hot breath tickling his ear. Osamu’s other hand was rubbing small circles on his waist.

“You know,” Rintarou started, grabbing his boyfriend’s hand to lead it higher. “I think it’s pretty soundproof in here, as in no one would hear us if we just-”

“Shit, I forgot I have something on the stove. Okay, see you later!” Osamu kissed him once more, this time on the lips, and shut the door behind him.

Rintarou gaped, realizing he just got played for the fool he was. Like a child, he was placated by the promise of a surprise. And to think, he believed he got the less evil twin.

Rintarou stepped out of the storage and resumed his position as cashier. The dinging stopped now that his mind was focused on something else. Namely, being fucked in the storage room of a restaurant owned by his boyfriend.

“Sir, can we pay now?”

God, he really needed to stop spacing out.

“Yeah, sorry.” He rang them up and told them to have a good night.

Every so often, Osamu would come out of his kitchen and check on Rintarou. It was under the guise of affection but he knew that Osamu was just making sure he wasn’t aggravating any more customers.

It was 8:45 when Osamu had flipped the sign and told the hostess to stop letting people in. Hopefully that would mean people would leave relatively soon, but some stayed until they were explicitly told to get out by an employee. That was Rintarou’s favorite part of the job.

The fifteen minutes passed by so slowly that Rintarou started to think the clocks were broken. He missed Osamu.

Yikes, when did I start sounding like such a simp?

Only one couple was left, and they had been sitting there for a good hour. Rintarou would know because when he got bored with playing with the register, he would people watch. This couple in particular seemed to be in a brand new relationship, the stage where you asked surface level questions and gave surface level answers.

By 9:05, Osamu walked past Rintarou at the counter and towards the couple.

“Hello, we are closed now, and I see that you two have finished. I hope you enjoyed your meal. If you could just pay and leave please, I would greatly appreciate that.”

“We wanted to order dessert,” the woman said, looking at the desert menus posted on each table.

“The kitchens are closed.”

The man interjected, “You’re the head chef, right? The Miya that runs this place. Can’t you just whip something up? It shouldn’t take that long.”

“Like I said, sir, the kitchens are closed.”

Rintarou watched the exchange. He knew his boyfriend could handle it since he’s dealt with so many rude customers over the months. That didn’t mean Rintarou liked seeing his boyfriend get stepped on though. Being nice and polite was very much an Osamu thing, but Rintarou never believed in such diplomacy.

He got up and walked towards the table. “Get out.”

Osamu and the couple looked at Rintarou.

“How rude. Are you going to let your employee talk to me like that? He should be fired,” the man said, glaring at Rintarou.

The brunette wasn’t fazed. He just glared back, using the same stone-cold expression he used to intimidate his opponents on the court.

“He’s right. Get out of my restaurant and don’t ever come back again,” Osamu sneered, fed up with their behavior. They had no right to treat Rintarou like that, or himself, for that matter.

The couple shuffled out of their booth and walked away, the woman’s heels clicking on the ground. Osamu rolled his eyes and took their dishes.

“Sorry they didn’t pay,” Rintarou said. If he hadn’t butted in, Osamu might have gotten somewhere with them, but patience was never his strong suit.

“It’s fine. I’m glad you got them to leave.”

Rintarou followed Osamu as he walked back into the kitchen and dumped their dishes into a giant sink. He rolled up his sleeves before spraying the food off them and slotting them into their giant industrial dishwasher. Rintarou felt like he should help, but he just watched, enamored with the simple action of his boyfriend doing dishes.

A few minutes later, the hostess came up to Osamu and said something in his ear. Rintarou didn’t even realize she was still here. He couldn’t hear what they said over the running water, but it must have been something important since Osamu nodded and dried his hands. He shut the water off and smiled at Rintarou.

“Close your eyes.”

“I do not want to run into a hot stove and die.”

Osamu slapped two hands over Rintarou’s eyes. “Walk forward. It’s literally a straight line from here.”

Rintarou did as he was told. He was led to a table by his boyfriend who was grumbling about how he walked at the pace of a grandpa.

Osamu removed his hands, and Suna blinked rapidly to adjust to the lighting. He looked up to find Osamu with his apron on and a pad of paper in hand. The table was set for two, even though neither of them needed a menu.

“Hello, welcome to Onigiri Miya. My name is Osamu, and I’ll be your server today. Can I get you started with a drink?”

Rintarou cracked a smile. “Osamu…”

“Since you won the boyfriend lottery, everything’s on the house today and will be cooked by yours truly.”

Well he wasn’t going to say no to that.

Osamu bent down, briefly shedding his character. “You want your regular?” he asked, tucking the pen and paper away.

Rintarou nodded and Osamu stood back up. “That’ll be right up, sir.”

The nice hostess brought him a glass of water while Osamu worked his magic in the kitchen. Rintarou sipped on his water before getting up and changing the music on the speakers since he had boyfriend privileges.

The cheery pop music shut off and was replaced with his and Osamu’s shared playlist. Arctic Monkeys floated throughout the restaurant.

Sitting back down, Rintarou waved goodbye to the hostess. She waved back and wished him a Happy Valentine’s Day.

Only a few seconds later, Osamu came out with two plates of steaming food. He set the plates down before sitting down himself.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Rin,” Osamu smiled before shoving a ginormous bite of rice into his mouth.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Samu.”

They ate and talked happily, remarking on various customers and incidents that happened during the day. Drinks spilled on tables, people dined and dashed, minor fires that almost burned the entire place down started in the kitchen, the usual really.

After they ate more than enough leftover heart-shaped cookies, Osamu cleared their plates and dumped them in the sink, deeming them a problem for tomorrow.

He did some owner stuff that Rintarou never bothered to understand before shutting the lights off in the kitchen.

“How’s the storage room looking?” Rintarou asked, side eyeing his boyfriend.

“We can just go home, you know. Or is it a kink thing?”

Rintarou admitted unabashedly, “It’s definitely a kink thing. Put your apron back on. I’ve dreamt of this moment for a good four hours now.”

Osamu shoved the keys back into his pocket and dropped his bag on the closest chair. He dug his dirty apron out, letting his boyfriend drape it over his neck.

“Suna Rintarou, you sure are something else.”

[sincerelyreidburke]

quindo quindo quindo quindo quindo (look I know they're the main ship but this is where I have laid my affections)

Alright, Operation: Bite-Sized Kiersey Valentines is a go! Yes, I made up that name on the spot just now. No, I won’t apologize for it, even though it’s terrible. ICYMI, I’m taking submissions to my ask box for Kiersey ships (either romance or friendships) to see in little Valentine’s Day snippets. I’ll take these from now until when I go to bed (around 9 PM EST), and I’m doing them in order of how they came in!

So first up: Rachel. First of all, you loving Quindo brings me joy, since they’re also my favorites. I guess it’s kind of obvious that they’re my favorites, since I’m the creator and I’m the one who decided they’d be the main couple, but whatever. The point is, bless you for this request. I’ll never say no to some good old-fashioned Quindo.

BTW, to anyone who’s reading this, I’ll take duplicates of these— in other words, if I get more than one request for the same ship, I’ll just show you two (or three or however many) different Valentine’s Days.

Anyway. On to the soft.

february 14th | freshman year

Quinn has never had a Valentine, before this year.

For that reason, he thinks, he’s never truly seen the appeal of this holiday. The February fourteenths of years past have been little more to him that opportunities to lament his own singleness, and daydream after the boyfriend who, until earlier this school year, only existed in his imagination. They’ve come and gone like any other winter day.

And then Sebastián came along. And Quinn’s love life has, honestly, felt a bit like a daydream all its own ever since.

Today, Valentine’s Day starts early. To be more specific, it starts the moment he wakes up, since Sebastián spent the night in his room last night. Bunking up together in Quinn’s single has become the norm, especially since the start of spring semester, and Quinn is not complaining even in the slightest. He gets a snuggly bout of kisses in the dark hours of the morning, then sees Sebastián off to morning practice. When he wakes properly, he finds a handwritten card left on his nightstand, and enters a soft state that lasts him the entire day.

Spring musical rehearsal goes a bit late, tonight, thanks to some blocking issues, plus a case of harmonic discord in the “Disappear” ensemble parts that their music director was really bent on ironing out. Quinn truly wouldn’t mind this, on any normal Thursday, but the fact that it’s Valentine’s Day— and for the first time in his life, he’s excited about it— sort of jogs at his impatience on this particular evening. When Dr. C finally, mercifully calls rehearsal, just after 7:30, Quinn packs up and zips out into the Beckett Center lobby like a bat out of hell. Truly, he can’t get back to Wilson Hall fast enough. He’s ready to spend the evening in with his boyfriend. Homework be damned, even.

But when he actually reaches the lobby, he stops clean in his tracks. On a bench by the entrance, campus’ cutest boy is already waiting for him. They haven’t planned this particular meeting, but it wouldn’t be the first time Sebastián has picked him up at the end of rehearsal.

“Hey, baby!” In a lovely Kiersey blue sweatshirt and joggers that fit him nicely, Sebastián is all smiles. “How was rehearsal?”

Quinn cannot help it. He smiles like a lovestruck fool. It’s all he’s been, today, and he’s completely content in that fact. “It was quite long, but just fine, thank you,” he replies, and crosses to the bench to close the distance between them. “And hello, honey,” he adds, as Sebastián rises from his seat. “It’s nice to see you here.

“It’s nice to see you, too,” Sebastián laughs. The moment he stands, Quinn realizes that he’s come bearing gifts. On the bench by where he was sitting sits a bag that looks distinctly as if it holds Bluegrass Café take-out, and in his hands... Sebastián is holding a bouquet of flowers. White tulips, to be specific. They’re wrapped in paper and twine.

He must note that Quinn is looking at them, because he holds them forward, with that handsome smile ever still. “Here,” he says, and presses them into Quinn’s entirely undeserving hands. “These are for you.”

“Oh, my goodness, honey,” Quinn murmurs, and takes a moment to smell them. Clean, fresh, and beautiful, they’re perfect— and he thinks he may melt, right here in this lobby, at the sheer softness this boy brings into his life. He looks up to meet his eyes, and Sebastián looks just a bit bashful, with both hands held behind his back. “These are beautiful,” he tells him, and puts a hand to his heart. “Thank you so much.”

Sebastián laughs again, then takes him by the shoulders, and kisses his forehead gently. “You’re welcome, baby,” he hums. “Happy Valentine’s.”

“And to you as well,” Quinn replies, and then wraps himself up in his arms for a good, long hug. He holds the flowers close to his face ever still, and takes care not to crush them in the embrace.

He is so lucky. Goodness. He still has trouble believing this boy is actually real.

He draws back just a bit, enough to rise on tiptoe and give him a kiss. “Can we still spend tonight in?” he asks, after he’s succeeded in that mission. “I have some things for you back at my room.”

“We can definitely do that,” Sebastián replies, with this little twinkle in his eyes, and Quinn thrills a bit at the thought of getting round two to the lovely little kissing session they had this morning. “And also,” Sebastián adds, “that’s food.” He tips his head back toward the bag on the bench. “Like, dinner. In case you were wondering. I also have some candy?”

Quinn laughs into his chest. “Oh, my goodness, my dear, you are outdoing yourself.”

“Naaaah,” Sebastián says, as if all of this is no big deal, as if it’s obvious. “Only the best for you, baby.”

Quinn swats him, just gently. “Sebastián. You are such a flirt.”

Sebastián winks at him. “I can’t flirt with my valentine?”

Quinn thinks he may be melting again, but then— from behind, an interruption halts their moment in its tracks. “Hey, no jocks in the lobby!”

Quinn whirls around, and shoots daggers at Maggie, who’s just emerged from the stage door, the next cast member to leave rehearsal. With her bag over one shoulder and her script in her free hand, she’s effortlessly glamorous, as always. “Magdalena,” he says, “I will kill you.”

“No, you won’t.” She blows a kiss, then waves her script in the air. “Hey, Sebastián!”

“Hey, Maggie.” Sebastián is infinitely less homicidal than Quinn is. “How was rehearsal?”

“Oh, it was good.” Maggie flashes a smirk, as she goes to slide her script into one of the pockets of her bag. “Quinn was bursting at the seams to get out of there, and now I guess I know why.”

“I beg your pardon,” Quinn cries, in a likely useless effort to defend his own honor. “I didn’t even know he’d be meeting me here.”

Maggie’s smirk widens. “Wow, what a fun coincidence for you.”

Sebastián laughs. Quinn sniffs his flowers again, and hopes that Maggie is watching. It isn’t as if she’d be jealous. She received flowers from five separate boys today, which is what she deserves.

“Have a good night, lovebirds,” she sings, as she nears the exit. Over her shoulder, as a parting gesture, she calls, “Use protection!”

Quinn hides his face in Sebastián’s sweatshirt, so he won’t see just how much that particular comment makes him blush. “I hate her,” he mumbles. “I hate her so much.”

Sebastián is still laughing. He eases him up to his eye level, then gives him a gentle kiss. It’s a bit easier for the embarrassment to wear off, after that.

“What do you say?” Sebastián asks, with one big, steady hand resting at the small of his back. “Back to your room for us?”

A few butterflies surface in Quinn’s stomach. He nods. “That sounds lovely,” he replies, and proceeds to spend the night exactly as he intended to.

Sebastián is truly the greatest valentine a boy could ever ask for.

[thanks--for--listening]

figments of the dark

yes i read all the grishaverse books after watching the show yes i’ve now written kanej fic yes they’re my dream couple no i’m not okay mentally. SPOILERS FOR CROOKED KINGDOM this fic takes place right after it. 

(also on ao3)

~~

She kept pace with him initially. Walking down to the harbor, he watched as the Suli couple moved closer and closer, the details of their appearance materializing with each step. The gray of the man’s hair creeping in at the edges. The woman’s long braid lying gracefully over her shoulder. Their hands clasped together, tugging each other along as the distance between them and their daughter disappeared. Inej was nearly jumping out of her own skin, but she stayed by his side, only breaking into a sprint when there was nothing but a few feet separating them. It was the most impressive feat of strength he’d seen from her. From anyone, if he was being honest. 

They swallowed her whole. Neither were particularly tall, but they towered over her nonetheless, their arms wrapping effortlessly around her delicate frame. As he stepped closer, he could hear them amidst the sobs, the prayers usually whispered under Inej’s breath now spoken loudly and without reservation. Their foreignness was familiar. Kaz might not have cared for gods or saints, for myths and legends, but the sound of their devotion still soothed his racing heart.

He stood back as they held one another. A feeling deep in his gut ignited softly, a spark burning in isolation: not strong enough to turn into a flame, but with enough heat to leave a scar. It wasn’t resentment — he would have given anything for her to have this moment, would have let the rest of the world crumble around them if that’s what it cost — but an aftertaste of something else lingered as he watched them. No matter how often he won, how deft defying the odds or complicated the scheme, he’d never have anyone waiting for him when the dust settled. Not like Inej did. Not like Jesper did. His victories had long been celebrated in solitude, and he’d come to terms with that years ago. 

Still, the feeling seemed to whisper, a voice in his head that sounded like someone he knew. Still.

“Kaz!” He blinked the thoughts away, straightened his back as they walked toward him. “Mama, Papa, this is Kaz Brekker. He’s saved my life more times than I can count.”

“Your daughter paints me in a better light than I deserve.” He looked at her as he added, “No one has ever protected me the way she has.”

Their eyes were locked, and he saw it again. One of the first lessons Ketterdam had taught him was to read faces as if they were words on a page. Any hand could be won, any man could be manipulated, if one could learn to see beneath the surface. Nobody could hide forever. Their hearts would give them away every time. 

Now he was grateful for the lesson. Not for the victories it had led to, or the money he’d won, but for the undeniable truth of what he saw. Adoration. When Inej looked at him, it was as if the entire harbor floated away, and all that was left were the tears in her eye and the smile on her face. It didn’t matter that the real joy had come from her parents; he would use any excuse to be on the other end of that look, regardless of whether he deserved it.

Kaz didn’t even notice her father until Inej stuck her arm out, spoke in quick and hushed Suli. He didn’t have to know the language to understand — Mr. Ghafa had moved to embrace him, until Inej stood in the way. Kaz had been lost in the endless depths of her eyes, drawn to them like a sailor to a siren, so fixated he would have drowned rather than tear his gaze away. Inej, his better in every way that mattered and every way that didn’t, had never lost sight of the world around them. Even now, when the threat came in the form of a grateful father, when her focus should have been at its weakest, she was still protecting him. 

He wanted to tell her that he would take it. The touch, and the revulsion that came with it. The gratitude he’d done nothing to earn. He would suffer any pain, subject himself to all kinds of agony, play whatever character she wanted, even the farm boy he knew had died in that river. He would hunt the world for her wretched saints and construct an altar of his own, if it kept that smile on her face. 

“Thank you,” her mother said, the words still muddled by the tears that had yet to stop. “Thank you for keeping her safe.”

Safety didn’t exist in Ketterdam, and it certainly wasn’t what he’d given her when he’d taken her out of that Menagerie, but he kept his mouth shut, nodded curtly. That wasn’t his story to tell. 

“Every day, we searched,” her father said. “They told us to give up. They said you were lost, that those who took you would never let you go. They said you wouldn’t make it no matter where you’d gone, but we said no. Our Inej has angels on her shoulders and wings on her back. She can survive anything.”

If she hadn’t been before, Inej was crying now. With every passing moment, Kaz felt more and more like an intruder. He wondered if it was some sort of retribution for each time he’d sent her to creep in through someone’s window, to become the audience they weren’t aware of. How much had he learned from her being privy to moments like this, so intimate and exposed? What had it cost her to push back the guilt that came with the encroachment?

“I can,” she said. “But I didn’t have to do it alone.”

He listened half-heartedly as she told them about Wylan and Jesper and Nina. The house she was staying in, with a staff and a view and a life that was much more palatable to those unfamiliar with the stench of the Barrel. Painting over their history was effortless with those kinds of tools. The only question was how long it could last. 

As they began walking, he forced his face into neutrality, buried any evidence of the thoughts that ran through his mind. They would have to find out eventually. Perhaps not all of it, and ideally not all at once, but in due time the truth would become unavoidable. They spoke of survival as if it was an honorable thing, but where that ship had taken Inej, only those with the sharpest of claws and malleable of morals made it out alive. Dirtyhands may have become his title, but nobody around here could claim cleanliness. Not even the dead.

The path made itself clear, the flip of the final card coming to him with striking clarity. A death blow delivered by the river, turning a winning hand into a losing one in a single fluid motion. They had been looking for their lost child, for a little girl who only ever pushed the limits in a performance. But the secret to the Dregs was that everyone was already dead. They may have called themselves Crows, but like phoenixes born from the ashes of their old lives, rebirth was an entry level requirement. Whoever they’d gone searching for, the Ghafa’s had found someone else. He didn’t know when they’d realize it, when they’d look at their daughter and see a stranger in her place, but he knew the moment would come. And for the first time in his short and miserable life, Kaz longed to be wrong. 

Tuning back into the conversation, he caught the tail end of a list of relatives, each one having done their own part in trying to find her. Inej stood in between them as they walked. Kaz let himself fall back just slightly, a pace behind theirs. It was as much privacy as he could give out on the street. Things may have improved for the Dregs in the past few weeks, but that didn’t mean people weren’t still watching, waiting to find them in a moment of weakness, waiting for their chance to steal the throne Kaz and his crew had built from nothing. 

“We’ll send a letter as soon as we make it to your friends’ home. Nobody knew what to believe when the messenger came to us with news about you. Half the family were convinced this was all a scam, a ruse to kidnap us as well.”

“Your aunts will start planning the celebration before we even board the ship home,” her mother said with a smile. The tears had eased up, replaced with effortless joy and comfort. “Preparing the food will take half the length of the trip, at least.”

Inej let out a moan. “Nobody in Ketterdam knows how to cook properly.”

Her mother’s smile grew, something he hadn’t thought was possible. “Anything you want, I’ll make. Saints willing, I’ll be cooking for you for the rest of my life.”

“You’re in for a treat,” her father added. “Ever since the circus ended, your mother has been cooking non-stop. Everything will be better than you remember.”

“Wait,” her eyebrows scrunched together. “What do you mean, the circus ended?”

The smiles faded. “We tried,” he said, his voice tainted with the somber weight of grief that grew heavier over time. “But how could we go on without our star? How could we look to the sky and see someone else walking amongst the clouds?”

“It wasn’t fair,” her mother said softly. “To the family. They needed the performances to survive, but we…we needed every moment to search for you. We needed you to survive.”

They’d slowed their pace, and even though he slowed with them, they now stood nearly side by side. Kaz left a gap the size of a person between him and her father in a pathetic and slightly selfish attempt at disappearing. He’d have pulled an Inej and evaporated altogether, had she not asked him to stay. 

“I’m sorry,” Inej said, and he couldn’t see her face clearly but he could hear the tears in her voice. 

“For what, zheji?”

“For being the reason you stopped. Performing was our lives. It was everything you’d worked toward.”

“Inej, you are our lives. You are more important than any stage or crowd. You are worth more than any money in the world.” Her mother stopped walking, grabbed hold of her face as she said, “I would walk away from the circus a thousand times if it meant you were safe.”

Inej just nodded. The feeling snuck in again, quick and quiet and sharp; he forced it back down as they started walking again. He refused to let his pitiful, despicable nature ruin any part of this moment for her. 

“And who knows?” Her father said, the cheer in his voice somehow both authentic and artificial. “Once you come home, maybe we can put the show back on the road. Perform as a family again.”

Oh. So this was the moment. He’d known it was a possibility when he’d made the deal, but his mind had refused to accept it. The life he led required foresight, examining every outcome for every choice, but he hadn’t found the strength to prepare for this ending: the moment she left.

His step staggered ever so slightly. It shouldn’t have been noticeable, shouldn’t have disrupted the rhythm of their walk, but like a conductor trained to spot the lone instrument out of tune, Inej turned. She stared first at the ground in front of him, then brought her gaze up. Met his. An inquisitive look flashed across her face, as if she was searching for the disruption. Or perhaps she was searching for something else. 

He tried to school his features into something legible, to show her the answer she was looking for. The permission, although it wasn’t his to give. The forgiveness, although there was no guilt to absolve. Even when he wanted to fall onto his hands and knees and beg her to stay; even when the thought of her living across the true sea made the air around him grow thicker and his lungs smaller, made breathing a painful, labored thing. He nodded his head slightly even when every nerve in his body fought against it, because if there was anyone who deserved to turn their back on Ketterdam and leave it all behind, it was her. If leaving was what made her happy, he’d send her off without a single word of protest. If she wanted to fly on her own land, on her own accord, who was he to ground her, to tie her wings for the sake of his own spoiled heart?

Inej didn’t say anything, but the look on her face…Kaz wasn’t one to cling to hope, but he grasped desperately to her reluctance, to the way she bit her lip and kept her eyes away from her parents. Even if she also kept them away from him.

— 

Jesper had a thousand questions. 

He’d spent half of dinner begging the Ghafas for stories about Inej as a child, and the other half endlessly praising Mrs. Ghafa’s cooking. Kaz couldn’t fault him for the latter — Inej and her mother had spent most of the afternoon in the kitchen, and what they’d come out with was quite easily the best meal he’d ever had. The way they managed to extract flavors he’d never tasted before from the ingredients he’d had at his disposal for years was an art form in itself, one that rivaled even his own general resourcefulness. And the smell. Envy reared its ugly head at the thought of Wylan and Jesper getting to enjoy the lingering scent long after the meal had been devoured.

“We had a guest faint during one of her performances.” Her father was telling the story with the same enthusiasm as he had with every one that came before. Where Inej was silent and still, her father was big and bold, every move exaggerated and every word announced rather than spoken. Kaz wondered whether it had always been her nature, or whether he was witnessing what Inej might have been had she not been forced into the shadows. 

“Faint? Because of Inej?”

“Oh, yes. You see, we realized that we couldn’t make it look too easy. Not that it was easy, of course, but when Inej walks that rope, it looks effortless. So we staged a wobble, a moment for her to pretend to lose her balance. Oh, the way people panicked! They’d hold their breaths and try to hide their eyes, but none of them could ever look away, not until she made it to the other side.”

“Was the woman who passed out okay?” Wylan asked.

Her father shook his head. “You misunderstand. Women never looked away. They stared with intensity, as if their eyes could carry her to safety. The poor man collapsed right there in the front row.”

“He didn’t even see the rest of my act,” Inej added. “That’s the real travesty.”

“Maybe he’ll come back and see how it ends once you’re home.” Kaz saw it again, the feeling streaking across her face like a runaway star. Only this time, it wasn’t reluctance: it was guilt. 

“I can’t.”

“Can’t what, zheji?”

The first words had come out softly, but when Inej looked up at her father, she spoke with the determination that Kaz had grown used to. “I can’t stay. I can’t rejoin the circus.”

“So you’re out of practice. It’s nothing a little time can’t fix! You have magic in you, Inej. That doesn’t just go away.”

“No,” she said. “I can’t rejoin the circus because I have to come back. Here, to Ketterdam.”

Her mother reached across the table, put her hands in her own. “They took you against your will. Against our will. Whoever stole you can’t stop us from taking you home. Nobody can keep you here anymore.”

“No,” she said, “you’re not hearing me. I want to go home. I want to see the family, to spend time with you. But I also want to come back.”

“I don’t understand,” her father said, and Kaz could hear the desperation creeping into his voice. “What could a place like this possibly have that would be worth leaving your family? Leaving your home?”

“Papa, it’s not about leaving you.” Jesper was practically bouncing out of his own skin, and Wylan’s eyes scoured the room in search of anything else to look at, but Kaz kept his gaze fixed on the table in front of them. A part of him knew the noble thing, the polite thing, would be to silently excuse himself, to give the Ghafas this moment alone. But Inej had started it with them there, and Kaz didn’t have the willpower to walk away before he heard her answer. 

“Then what is it about?”

“It’s about everyone else.” Inej spoke with fervor, impassioned with purpose and righteousness. It fit her better than being a spider ever had. “There are hundreds of little girls and boys going through exactly what I did. Only they don’t get rescued. They don’t have anyone looking out for them.” She spared a quick glance his way; he pretended not to notice. “I can’t go home while they suffer.”

“So it is us who should suffer, then?”

Inej groaned. “Mama, that isn’t fair and you know it.”

“Life isn’t fair,” her father said. “The world is full of terrible people, Inej. You can’t—“

“Trust me when I say I know the terrors of both men and women alike.” Venom had slipped into her voice. Kaz watched the shock slowly register across her parents’ faces, watched as they blinked at the girl who had replaced their daring but soft-spoken daughter. He wondered when they’d truly process her words. Back in Ravka? On the boat home? Maybe it would come while they lay awake tonight, dreams poisoned by the realization that some version of their worst nightmare had come true. That even though she stood in front of them now, seemingly all in one piece, Ketterdam had still taken something from her, and nothing they ever did could give it back.

“I only meant to say,” her father continued, his tone shifting into something gentler, “that this battle is one you’ll likely never win. There’s no end to greed. Not in this lifetime. Perhaps not even in the next. Every enemy you defeat, every man you force into accountability, will only be replaced by two more looking to use his failure as a stepping stone.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to adjust my aim. Target the root and not the weeds.”

“Why?” Her mother groaned, frustration and terror written all over her face. “Why does it have to be you? Someone else can save the world. Someone else’s daughter can play the hero. Why can’t you just come home?”

“Who, Mama? Who’s gonna save them if not me? Who’s going to watch out for them when their families are told they’re dead and nobody else comes looking?” She turned toward her father. “I know it’s a losing hand. But I’m not the same person I was before. I know how to win with anything now, how to bend the rules so they work in my favor.”

“But you don’t have to,” he begged. 

“If nobody ever tries, nothing gets better. I have to try, Papa. I owe them at least that much. I owe myself that much.”

The silence spread quickly. He knew there was nothing in the air, but the tension felt like a gas leak, like one spark could set the whole house ablaze. Kaz watched the way they stared across the table, each waiting for the other to break first but neither one wanting to watch them burn. Even if he hadn’t been a betting man, he would have known who to back in this fight of wills. Whether on the ground or in the air, Inej would hold steady. If nothing else, he could count on that.

Jesper clapped his hands, the sound echoing across the room that felt both overwhelmingly big and suffocatingly small. “So! Who’s up for a little music?”

—

Kaz found her exactly where he expected to. The sound of Wylan’s piano faded as he cracked open the window, pulling himself up onto the roof even when his leg throbbed in protest. 

Inej didn’t move, didn’t do anything to acknowledge his presence. She didn’t have to — she always knew where he was, just as he did her. Climbing up to her perch, he let the sounds of the city surround them. It never mattered what time of day it was: someone in Ketterdam was always awake, and therefore, no one was ever truly alone.

“They don’t believe me,” she said softly. He fought the urge to turn toward her; he knew that some words were more easily spoken to something rather than someone. “They think that the minute I get home, I’ll just forget about everything here.”

“Unfortunately, I think Jesper’s singing is going to be permanently ingrained in all our minds.”

He spared a quick glance, caught the corners of her mouth creeping upward. “Who needs to remember? I’m positive the sound will carry all the way across the true sea and into Ravka.”

“We should be grateful for their diminished armies, then. If they had the means, I’m positive this performance would be a worthy cause to go to war.”

She laughed then, just once, but saints the sound was enough to send electricity through his entire body. He’d start a war himself for that sound. He’d crawl into the Ice Court with nothing but his own two hands. He’d try and heal the shattered bits inside himself if it meant he got to hear her at her happiest, if he got to be the one to make her feel that way in the first place. 

Kaz wanted to stay like this, to poke fun and let the future disappear, to laugh and let the hard words hide beneath the sound, but he’d never had a habit of doing what was good for him. The dead of night exposed questions that cowered in the light of day, and for all his strength, he couldn’t resist knowing the answers. “Would it be so bad? To forget this place?”

“I could never do that. Not even if I wanted to.”

“You don’t know if that’s true. Time away, back with your family, it could help. It could…heal.”

Inej finally turned toward him, the daggers in her eyes as accurate and deadly as the ones strapped to her wrists. “Do you really think you could just leave and pretend like none of this ever happened?”

Part of him wanted to lie, wanted to believe in a world where the past stayed locked in history and the future could be its own thing entirely. If not for himself, then for her. But while the sentiment may have been foreign to her parents, Kaz and Inej spoke the language of the Dregs. There was a reason people got tattooed when they joined: being a Crow wasn’t something you could ever leave behind. 

“No,” he said. “I don’t.”

“Exactly.” She turned forward again, stared at the city as if it could give her whatever answer she was looking for. “All night, I could feel my parents looking for a ghost. They remember a girl whose only dream in life was to walk across air, but there are other things that matter more to me than the fucking applause.” She leaned back without losing her balance. “I don’t think they’re ready to see the person I’ve become.”

“Then they’re missing out on the strongest, bravest, and most honorable person in all of Ketterdam.”

Inej raised an eyebrow at him. There was curiosity in her eyes, and behind it, something more. Something he hadn’t seen on her yet, despite spending a considerable amount of time stealing glances, soaking in the sight of her whenever he could afford to. He couldn’t be sure, but it almost looked like pride. “Since when do you care for honor?”

“Since you watched me at my weakest and my worst, and still deemed me a worthy cause for devotion.” He kept his eyes on her now, emboldened by the light of the moon and the truth of his words. “You look to your saints for guidance, but I look to you. So long as you stand by me, I know I haven’t strayed too far.”

As he spoke, he carefully slipped his hand out of his glove; when the only sound left was the echo of his words around them, he reached for her hand, let his own slide into place within it. Immediately the rush came, the concoction of emotions all tangled up and twisted. He squeezed, let the pressure of her reciprocation ground him in the present and on dry land. 

Pain would always come first. No matter how much time passed, no matter who he was with, Kaz wasn’t sure that would ever change. For so long the agony had held a chokehold on anything else that might come with it, suppressing desire until it was all but nonexistent. The longer they held onto one another, though, the stronger it became. Inej dulled the anguish until it was no sharper than a blunt knife, until he could feel everything else without being blinded by the blade. 

Eventually, she let go, only to shift and drop her head onto his shoulder. She rested largely on his jacket, but there was a sliver, right by his neck, where their skin came together. It set his pulse on fire. It felt like exhaling. Like holding something so delicate in his hands he didn’t dare breathe and risk disturbing it. The weight of her against him sent all his senses up into disarray, and he wondered for half a second if this was what the rush of parem felt like, because with Inej leaning against him. he swore he could see, hear, feel everything. The pain all but evaporated. The world came gloriously into tune, and now that he’d heard the sweet sound it could make, Kaz wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to tolerate a sour note. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, the sound nearly blending into the ambiance provided by the sky above and ground below, nearly drowned by the synchronous beats of their hearts. “Thank you for bringing them back to me.”

“Anything,” he responded just as quietly. “No matter the cost nor the reason. If you ask, I’ll do anything.”

“Why?” The question was so genuine, and he wasn’t sure he had an answer. How could he possibly put into words the feeling of needing her happiness as much as he needed air to breathe? What could he give her that could show just how deeply he craved her, and how terrifying and exhilarating and all-encompassing that desire was? 

“You asked me earlier about my tell,” he said after a moment. His eyes were fixed on the city in front of him, but he could feel her gaze. This time, it was he who couldn’t say the words to her face. “I gave you a half-truth. My tell, my true vulnerability, the thing that gives me away every time, is you. When you’re by my side, no one else matters. Not the rest of the team, not the job. Nothing.”

“Is that why you…?” She didn’t have to finish her thought. He knew what moments she thought of, the constant battle inside himself she became victim to. The back and forth, longing turning to avoidance that never managed to last. A cycle he had yet to fully break out of. 

He nodded, just enough for her to see it. “Van Eck knew. That day he…when he threatened to kill everyone else, he set the trap that I walked right into. In the moment when we were all in peril, he followed my gaze and saw who I couldn’t afford to lose.”

“That’s funny,” she said, and he stared down at her, the confusion written all over his face. She tilted her head back slightly, just enough to look at him without breaking the contact. “Had he turned his eyes to me, he would have seen the same thing. I guess we damned each other that day.”

“It’s not funny.” He desperately tried to keep the edge out of his voice, but control was a fantasy when his mind went back to that night, to the days he spent in fear of Inej being tortured or killed or worse. “I vowed to never let anyone hurt you like that again because of me. Because of what you hurting would do to me.”

The quiet settled back in, as if it had never left, as if their conversation had already dissolved into oblivion. Her head shifted slightly, eyes turned back to the city in front of them. He longed to watch her, to search in her face for the thoughts running through her mind, but she still rested against his shoulder, and he would rather throw himself off the roof than disrupt the comfort she seemed to find there. Patience was something he’d once considered a virtue, but now it was practically nonexistent. 

“We can’t control the rest of the world,” she finally said. “Nor can we stop people from coming after us. Torturing yourself to stop someone else from doing it for you doesn’t solve anything; it only guarantees pain.”

“I’m no stranger to suffering. I’d rather withstand self-inflicting wounds. Those I can control.”

“It's not just you who suffers at your own hand.” She broke apart from him, shifted her body until they were face to face. A chill settled in where her head had been. 

When Inej was walking above him, traversing through territory only few could manage, he’d allowed himself to pretend she was safe. That her perch protected her from the terrors that struck on the ground. But now, sitting above the rest of the world, all he felt was exposed. He was not Inej. He had no control here; be it to the elements or his enemies, or the one who held his heart in her hands. Every part of him was vulnerable. 

“When you hurt yourself, when you consign your life to misery on the basis that it’s coming anyway, you hurt me as well. When you keep your distance, I’m the one who ends up untethered. You want to protect me from suffering on your behalf, but all you're doing is delivering the death blow yourself.”

“I…I never meant—“

“I know,” she said, her voice gentle and calm and everything he’d never deserved. “But I refuse to accept that pain any longer. I can’t love you if you spend all your time demolishing yourself. I’ll go down with this ship, but I can’t stay if you’re the one poking holes in the deck.”

“You won’t have to.” He’d never been one for vows, but he spoke them now, wondered if any of her beloved saints could hear him. If they would even dare listen to someone as depraved as he. “I can’t promise a miracle. I won’t lie to you and spew falsities about changes in morality that I know are nothing more than a cheap trick of the light. You deserve better than that. You deserve better than me. So every moment you choose to stay by my side is one I’ll devote to earning it.”

A crash from below sent them both to their weapons, before the sound of raucous laughter eased their grip. Kaz wondered if they’d ever stop anticipating the fight, if that instinct normally developed at childhood’s end, or if it was simply another consequence of living in Ketterdam. 

“I should probably go rescue my parents. We’ve left Jesper and Wylan to their own devices for too long.” He watched as she floated down the roof, as if the surface itself was flat and level, as if the force pulling them down to the ground was only optional. When she got to the windowsill, he expected her to disappear, but instead she stopped, hands gripping the edge of the roof. “You deserve better, too,” she told him. “Better than you’ve got. Better than you’re going to get. One day I’ll make you believe it.”

Kaz didn’t say anything, didn’t so much as breathe, not until she dropped through the window and out of sight. He stared at the spot she’d left behind. There was no trace of her, nothing he could point to to prove she was there. Only the catch in his breath and the chill on his skin. 

—

It was something he’d almost gotten used to by now. The smell. Saltwater had been one of the first things he’d learned to endure. Success and revenge both relied on the seas, so he’d spent as much time by the water as he could, until he could tolerate the scent without having to empty the contents of his stomach after so much as a whiff. It had been a lesson, he’d told himself. Every time served as a reminder that in order to beat Rollins, he’d need to leave the broken child behind. He’d need to become something better. Someone new. 

He didn’t know if it was the smell now that was nauseating, or the sight of the boat anchored on the harbor carrying Ravka’s double eagle flag. Inej’s parents had already begun making their way to the dock. Jesper and Wylan had given their heartfelt goodbyes back at the house; Kaz had said nothing, but followed a step behind them, just as he had upon their arrival. Inej never stopped him. He took her silence as an invitation. 

They’d passed The Wraith on their walk, and now his eyes kept trying to drag him back to it. Her ship turned his body and mind into a contradiction, elicited responses that shouldn’t have coexisted. Pride and fear, joy and sorrow, guilt and righteousness. It tempted him like a puzzle he wasn’t clever enough to solve, made him think that if he just kept looking, he might be able to sort it all out. To find an answer to a question he couldn’t ever ask. 

“You’ll watch over it when I’m gone?” He turned to face her, unsurprised that she followed his gaze even when the boat lay out of view. 

“Of course. I don’t abandon my investments.”

“Tell Specht he can start trying to put together a potential crew while I’m away. And that he’s got the job as my first mate if he wants it.”

“I’ll pass the word along.”

“Tell him to look into the girls first. The ones from the Menagerie.” 

“They may be hard to find,” he said casually. “Now that Heleen is shut down, most are scattered to the wind.”

“Then it’s a good thing he’ll have you.” Kaz raised an eyebrow at her, and she rolled her eyes. “I know you’ve kept tabs on them. Offered a place in the Slat, a new name and fresh start. Offered them a ticket home, too, if they have one.”

“I work for The Wraith,” he said in response. “She expects me to rid the world of evil women and men. Can’t do that if the girls have nowhere else to go.”

“What a formidable employer.”

Kaz smirked. “Rumor has it she’s got heartsick fools wrapped around her pinky, and slavers and scum crushed beneath her fist.”

“Is that so?”

“If the whispers are to be believed.”

“Sounds like a handful.”

“Only for the scum.”

“And for the heartsick fools?”

Sincerity slipped back in and he let it, forgoed the smirk and the sarcasm entirely. “For them, it’s an honor.”

Her own smile faded, and he wondered if he’d made a mistake. If the price of genuity was her laughter and lack of tension in her shoulders, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to pay it. “When I return — and I will, no matter what my parents tell themselves — who am I going to find?”

He wanted to tell her that he’d be the same person she left behind. That she could dock her ship and they could walk besides one another the way they have before, that nothing had to change if they didn’t want it to. But that wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear. And maybe, despite his own internal protests, that wasn’t the truth, either. 

For as long as Kaz Brekker had been alive, he’d had one singular purpose. Every choice and decision, every move he made, was done in service of that goal, the heist within all the heists. Brick by brick required time and diligence, so much so that it hadn’t left room for an after. It didn’t matter what name he used; the dominance, the relevance, the very existence of Pekka Rollins was never going to survive. Until the dust settled and he was still standing, Kaz didn’t think he would, either. 

But here he stood. And here she stood. The waves crashed against the harbor behind her, each one with a different incentive: the threat of drowning, the promise of infinite possibilities, the rueful fate awaiting any who would seek to control them. The sea dragged out what was left inside the infamous Kaz Brekker as easily as it pulled in the tide. In its wake, a rare type of tranquility remained. He had no plan, no scheme. There was only one thing left to give.

“I’m not sure,” he told her. He prayed she could hear the truth in his words. “But I know that each time you traverse the seas, I’ll be here on the shore. And whenever and wherever you decide to land, I’ll be there. Anything you need — support, supplies, a place to lie your head — you’ll have. What’s mine is yours. It always was. It always will be.”

Inej stared at him. If they were other people, he knew this would be the time for desperate hugs, for clinging to one another in some last ditch effort to fight off the sands of time. But they weren’t other people. They were Kaz and Inej. Products of the Barrel. Broken in all the same places. And he wasn’t sure he could handle holding onto her just to let her go. 

So they watched. Her eyes held the kind of radiance that the poets preached about. The wind pushed her braid back just slightly, as if it was trying to pull her toward the sea. The hilts of her knives glistened in the sun, peeking out only in places where he knew to look. If he was a religious man, he’d tell her she looked like a goddess, a deity escaped from whatever world lay beyond their own. If he followed the faith, he’d tell her that no saint, not even the one blessed with sunlight, could possibly outshine her. If he wasn’t a coward, he’d confess that he had already begun to pray for her, to beg the water to bend to her will, to keep her ship and her mission and her body and soul all in one piece. 

Years of walls crumbled under the weight of her gaze, and he let them with no resistance. He wasn’t sure what she saw when she looked at him, but he hoped she could hear the words he could not say. And the selfish, undeserving part of him wished she’d feel the same. 

The blaring horn from the ship fractured the moment. Neither of them flinched, but he watched her turn back, glance behind her at the vessel waiting to take her home. 

“I should probably go,” she said, but her feet stayed planted, her eyes already back on him. 

Courage came in the form of fear, his desperation to keep her in front of him shoving out words he hadn’t planned on saying. “When you return, who am I going to find?”

“I’m not sure.” She spoke slowly, and he wondered whether admitting it came with the same distress, the same relief, as it did for him. “But no matter what happens, I can promise you that I’ll come back. Not just to Ketterdam, or my ship. I’ll come back to you.”

“Why?” He felt sliced open just asking. No one else had ever had so many chances to destroy him without taking a single one. Part of him wondered when the shoe would drop, when the inevitable would happen and she’d turn her knife against him. How would her face look when she had his life in her hands? How long would it take her to realize he would welcome death with open arms rather than resist her? Kaz could think of no better way to die, no better way to live, than at her mercy. 

“A shadow,” Inej answered with a smile, “can only stray so far before the sun pulls it back where it belongs.”

He shook his head. “I’m the shadow; you’re the one who deserves to walk freely of me.”

She stepped closer, and his breath caught in his chest, sat right above his heart in glorious, agonizing anticipation. “Then every night I’ll pray for shade, so us figments of the dark can disappear together.”

Inej reached up, and it was only then that he noticed the gloves on her hands, thin and sleek, the same color black as his own. Despite the barrier, his heart still fluttered when she brought her hand up to his chin. She stood like that for a minute, her eyes searching for permission, and Kaz didn’t know what she was asking for but the answer would always be yes, yes, yes. 

Leaning toward him, she turned his head slightly, brought her lips to his cheek. They only touched for a second, maybe two, but it was enough to elicit another internal vow. He would find a way to fix as many of his jagged, shattered parts as he could, because the next time she brought her lips to his skin, he wanted to feel euphoria unburdened by anything else.

“I know I’ve said it before,” she whispered, “but thank you. For all of it.”

Whatever words, whatever courage he might have had, evaporated as quickly as it had come. The ship horn blared again but he kept his gaze steady, stole one last look, memorized the moment before it could fade. Inej lingered, as if she was doing the same, before she took a breath and turned around. 

Kaz watched. He watched her board the ship side by side with her parents. He watched her turn back as it began to pull away, the lone traveler facing Ketterdam rather than the endless sea. He watched until the ship disappeared into the horizon, the sight of it swallowed up by the glare of the sun. And even when it was gone, he watched for just a little bit longer, as if his eyes could carry her across the sea and into the safety that only existed in dreams and on a stage.

Turning around still hurt. Part of him longed to stay anchored to the harbor, to wait for her in the very spot she’d left him. But instead, he pulled his watch out of his pocket and began walking toward the Barrel. There was no time for standing around and waiting patiently. Not when he worked for The Wraith. She expected him to scrub their dirty home clean, and despite all his failings, Kaz Brekker refused to disappoint. 

[floofiestboy]

Haruhara Live Q/A Session via Text

Translations of past question corners:

- Question Corners #1-10

- Question Corners #11-20

- Question Corners #21-30

- Question Corners #31-40

- Question Corners #41-50

A couple days back, Haruhara asked people subscribed to his channel to send him questions via email. These are the answers.

Haruhara’s comments:

In this article, instead of a live Q/A session, I answer all the questions I got via email in text form.

Just like in an actual live session, I’ve answered the questions without carefully double-checking my notes and past chapters, so please take this as entertainment. Treat it as non-canon. Anything I haven’t explicitly talked about in canon shouldn’t be treated as such.

Senyuu has technically ended, and so now that’s it’s been over ten years, I’m even answering questions that made me think before, “If I answer this, it’ll affect how they read the main story...”!

Treat it separately from canon! These are just backstories, settings!

source: ch.nicovideo.jp/haruhara-ch/blomaga/ar1939122

Q. I love the BGM on the chapters on NicoNico, so I was wondering who composed them?

A. I don’t know either. Similarly, I don’t know who designed the logos either. But they are nice songs, aren’t they?

Q. Has Alba’s father been journeying since he was young? Did he live apart from Alba?

A. While he’s always been journeying, he came back regularly. If I compared it to a modern-day job, he’d be like a long-distance truck driver or a fisherman.

Q. Does Rchi still have her Mark of a Demon Lord? Do Rchimedes and the Second have the same mark?

A. She still has it, but since I keep on forgetting to draw it, I’ve decided it only shows up when she prays for it to appear. Rchimedes and the Second do not have it.

Q. What sort of job does Justice do in the Demon World?

A. Her job is to be cheerful. Since she’s strong, she has no problems living the way she does. Since the Demon World is still kinda a lawless land, being strong is enough to keep on living on.

Q. Are there only three Four Great Demons?

A. Yes, I just wanted to do a joke where there were a fewer (or greater) number of actual members than a title would make you think.

Q. Is the hole in the world still there?

A. To be honest, when I said that a hole had opened up in the world, what I actually wanted to say was “Something strange happened to the world.” I hadn’t thought about what the hole would be or anything. I bet a giant gate or something opened up for a moment, and monsters and stuff came over here from there. In that case, the hole would’ve closed already.

Q. Please tell me how demons age!

A. It really depends on the demon. Since demons are a race created by Rchimedes going like “Eh, whatevs”, their characteristics aren’t really consistent between each other. I think that demons have long lives because somewhere deep inside Rchimedes, he hated the idea of death and losing loved ones. Though he did play around and had demons fight each other and stuff. While on the surface level, it may have seemed like he fell into despair and raised havoc, I think he really did grieve about losing loved ones deep down.

Q. I’d like to hear more about the Loli 12 Organization and Loli Master the 5th (Master Go Rori).

A. To be honest, I just wanted to say gorori (T/N: onomatopoeia meaning ‘to lie down’). I’m sorry!

Q. Can we no longer see the BL route?!?!!?!

A. Huh?! What do you mean?! - was my first thought, but ah, I remember now. You’re talking about when I drew Ros getting jealous of Alba sleeping with Grandpa during season 2. Since you’re asking if you can no longer see it, I’m guessing you mean that you can’t? I myself have forgotten where I drew it and don’t have the file anymore.

There was a time in the past when I was super into AUs - I drew anything that hit my mind. But then I realized that readers tend to take anything the creator draws super seriously, so I stopped really doing it. 

Though lately when I still really want to draw something AU, I always make sure to put a disclaimer stating “This is unrelated to canon!” before it.

(T/N: Please tell me someone has the drawing mentioned here saved somewhere I need this I beg of you.)

Q. In Senyuu Season 2, Rchi keeping information about Creasion from Alba was treated as a joke and kinda just skipped over, but now that I think about it, unless Rchi had told Alba about it, Alba would’ve basically never found out about Creasion. (Since it was pure coincidence that he ended up in the Demon World and found out about it.)

I was wondering if Rchi really intended never to tell Alba about it even though they were working at saving Ros. 

If there are any such reasons, I would like to hear about how Rchi was actually planning to tell him once some more time passed, or about how she had some other reason and was really planning never to tell, etc.

A. Ros being the Demon Lord’s son isn’t directly related to saving Ros (via finding a way to free the Demon Lord.) Even if Alba found out the reason why Ros couldn’t defeat the Demon Lord, there wouldn’t have been anything he could’ve done about it. So since knowing the truth would just give Alba more to worry about, I think that Rchi decided it would be better to just stay on their journey and keep looking for information. I don’t think she had any particularly strong desire that would make her really want to tell him. 

Q. In F5 Ep. 11, I loved how Alba believed in Ros so easily, and how Ros declared with a smile, “The only person I punch for no reason is you, Hero-san!” How much deeper has their bond become since their early days?

A. How much deeper... how much deeper, I wonder? I feel like bonds aren’t the kind of thing you can measure in words. But I guess, compared to their early days, Ros trusts Alba enough to still be violent towards him even though he’s begun to realize that hey, “It isn’t really good to be violent.”

Q. How do you decide on the characters’ hair and eye colours? What do you use as reference when you draw their clothing and accessories?

A. Honestly, it’s always just whatever comes to me. Aside from the first few characters, I draw new characters vaguely at the storyboard stage, then draw them in properly at the manuscripting stage. For eye colours, in Senyuu I’ve decided that “people who can’t use magic don’t have red eyes.” That’s just something I’m trying to stick to, it doesn’t mean that “Everyone with red eyes in the Senyuu universe can use magic.” Cecily can’t use magic, after all.And there’s random citizens with red eyes out there too. I feel like people’s eyes turn red when they obtain magic because Rchimedes’ feelings towards Cecily were the trigger for magic’s discovery, even in Elf and Alf’s world. Cecily is an important character even though she hasn’t done anything.

Q. Elf and Ros haven’t really gotten the chance to really talk to each other thanks to their respective situations, but now that they work at the same place, I was wondering how close you think they are to each other. If you could expand on how their thoughts and impressions towards each other since their first meeting have changed, I would be really happy.

A. Elf used to think of Ros as someone to be pitied, but nowadays he’s realized that being pitiable isn’t something a bystander should decide, so he doesn’t think that any longer. The two of them aren’t particularly close, but they do chat normally. They’re like classmates who get along pretty well at school but never hang out on the weekends.

Q. If you have any thoughts on scrapped characters like Soldier Rosicks, the Season 2 Alba with the large sword on his back, cat-eared Rchi, etc., I’d love to hear them.

A. It’s less that I “scrapped” those characters and more that I just drew their appearances while I was drawing out all sorts of ideas, so they don’t have any particular backstories or settings associated with them. I’m the type to decide on things like settings as I move the characters around on a storyboard, so when I draw simple illustrations, they’re just empty shells.

Q. I’d like to know more about what happened with the first and third year Hero Academy students after Season 3. Also, how much do Sochi and her classmates know about “Lake’s little brother”?

A. I haven’t really thought about it, so if you’d like me to think about it I’d like to have at least two days for it, but I can’t take two days to think about this question, so the answer is “I haven’t really thought about it.” I’m sorry. Sometimes I can just think up answers on the spot, but I’d feel sorry to push entire lives onto characters based on ideas I thought up on the spot. So I’d like to think about what happens to characters “after” properly. Though I’ll decide things on the spot when it comes to random mob characters and aspects I don’t care about.

Q. The reason why Alba and Salt, who both obtained enough mana to affect the world around them, were able to leave prison was because they became capable of controlling their mana, not because their knowledge reached the level of say, Ros or Elf - would that be the correct interpretation? Additionally, what level of knowledge have Alba and Salt reached by F5, considering that they were getting 0% on even simple multiplication tests before?

A. Alba was released because he became capable of a certain level of control. His level of knowledge has not reached the levels of Elf and Ros. He hasn’t caught up to them, so unlike Elf and Ros, who’d use their knowledge and little tricks to turn 100 bits of mana into 200, Alba uses the bare minimum amount of knowledge to use 500 bits of mana as only 300. 

I’ve forgotten most of what I intended for Salt back them, so I apologize if I’ve given a different answer before which contradicts the one I’m about to give. Salt obtained great power, but he had no talent in keeping it within his body, so the mana was gradually released from him. I think he became so incapable of using magic that he was no longer an exceptional case, so he was eventually released.

Q. I have a question about the differences between Main Quest and the original canon. There are scenes in Main Quest that weren’t in the original canon, such as Rchi and Alba’s discussion in Part 2 Volume 4 Chapter 41, “Alba Expresses His Gratitude”, and Chapter 50, “Alba Is Stupefied”, where Mortmorte the 2nd offers to be sacrificed. I was wondering what your thoughts were when you added these extra scenes in.

A. While it isn’t as though I thought carefully about every new addition, when I drew Main Quest, my thoughts were along the lines of “Let’s go a little deeper into things.” I think that’s what I was thinking when I put in new lines. Also, typically I had a set number of pages I needed to draw for, so I think I moved around lines and expanded scenes as needed to fit the pages.

Q. I have a question about Teufel. In Season 1, Teufel only shows up in the extra chapters, but did you already intend to use him as the “Soul Manipulator” during the fight with Rchimedes in Season 2? Or was this something you decided as you got through Season 2.

A. That was something I planned from the start! If you’d like to know why Teufel appeared early, please read Filled It With My Feelings! There’s even a PDF version!

(T/N: *shills Haruhara* Filled It With My Feelings (Digital): hiaruron.booth.pm/items/2329424 Filled It With My Feelings (Physical, only available to order until midnight JST Sept. 3rd): tckc-ch.net)

Q. “The world isn’t at peace or anything! He isn’t! Meta Ros isn’t smiling!” So anyways, Meta Ros hasn’t appeared since the last episode of Senyuu+, but is he happy? Is he having fun with Meta Alba?

A. Honestly, I haven’t really thought too deeply about it since he’s just a joke character. But since he’s just a joke character, I’m sure he’s off doing his own thing somewhere, free and unrestrained by anything.

Q. Since Lym is a demon and Lake is from a thousand years ago, they don’t have last names, but does Salt have one? He is from modern times. If he does, what is it?

A. He does. I’ve also thought up names for Rchimedes the Second and his wife, but the thing is with manga is that you shouldn’t include everything you think up. It’s more interesting to the readers if you just include the information they need to know. Like how if you introduce yourself to someone in real life, you don’t tell them your whole life backstory, like- “My name is Tanaka Tarou! My father is Tanaka Katsuo. My mother is Tanaka Hanako, my grandma is-” You just tell them what they need to know, right? That makes things go more smoothly. Yeah.

So anyways, about his last name, I did think of one. Yeah. But I don’t remember where I wrote it down, and I can’t remember the name at all right now. I mean hey, even in real life, sometimes you forget people’s names when you just call them by a nickname all the time. It’s like that, etc., blah blah.

Q. Why was Ros the only one to be released from the seal even though he was sealed together with Rchiemdes? Who broke the seal?

A. Wasn’t it Elf who released the seal in order to give Alba some stimulus? Though Alba and Ros’ first meeting itself was a coincidence. Elf wanted to release Ros, or rather, the Demon Lord into Alba’s time in order to give Alba some stimulus, and to achieve that goal he teamed up with Dezember... wait, was this something I scrapped? Did I never write about it? I remember everything until Season 4 pretty well, since I drew a lot until there, but when I reached Season 4 I started feeling that sense of relief like “It’s all over~” and remember absolutely nothing...! I’d need to completely re-read Senyuu to know for sure... every, please re-read it for me! If there was something like that in canon, then I’ll go with that. If there wasn’t, then I must’ve scrapped it, or else I just had to cut back some parts that I wanted to draw. 

...Now I’m starting to feel like I scrapped it after all... because I thought that having Elf doing everything wasn’t a good plot device... I don’t know... 

Anyways, for now the answer to the question is “Wow, it’s really quite strange... I wonder who did it~”

Q. Foyfoy said that Ros was “a soldier from a country who doesn’t know war.” What kind of environment did Foyfoy grow up in?

A. While Foyfoy’s hometown is peaceful, Foyfoy spent time as a mercenary in wartorn countries in order to make money. It’s never been shown in canon, so it’s basically just a little backstory that was thought up at some point in the past.

Q. There’s other countries in SQ, but if there’s other countries in canon would Alba be seen as a threat?

A. There are other countries. But the King of the country that collected all those heroes is so powerful, Alba being a wonder of nature isn’t as important. If we say that Alba’s country is Japan, the neighbouring countries are on the scale of the Fukue Neighbourhood in Kurashiki City of Fukushima Prefecture. 

(T/N: You can see the exact scale on Google Maps by searching “岡山県倉敷市福江”, but essentially, incredibly tiny in comparison.)

Q. Is the King’s right-hand man Maine (Minister) still working at the castle?

A. He should be. He is.

Q. Crea awakened to his magic through contact with the Mana Maker, but can he no longer use it?

A. Crea doesn’t know how to use magic so he can’t. There’s no longer a Mana Maker in his body as well. There may be some mana left behind in his body, but he has no idea how to draw it out, so he can’t use it. At the start of Season 3, he tries to make a flower bloom with magic, but fails, after all.

Q. Hasegawara and Grandpa returned to their youths - did they continue living like that?

A. Since they did technically achieve their goal, they should’ve gone back to their original lives.

Q. In The Hero of the Port City, Guilty Justice says that she came because she sensed Creasion’s mana. What was she planning to do?

A. She probably came to fight him because she sensed some rare mana. Considering canon, it’s strange for Justice to appear in a place like that, isn’t it?

Q. How is Alf and Cecily’s relationship at the moment...? 

A. They don’t have one.

Q. Back in his Originia era, Crea was an orphan, so how did did he survive?

A. Back then, orphans weren’t uncommon. The villagers helped raise him - he lived a happy life.

Q. The princess from ‘Tis Time for “Torture”, Princess and Hime-chan have the same birthday and a similar hairstyle - are they related in any way?

A. The reason why their birthdays are the same is that when I went to write about the princess’ birthday, I thought, “Hm, did I decide on her birthday? Oh right, March 3rd.” and accidentally remembered it as Hime-chan’s birthday. The princess’ hairstyle is entirely Hira Kei-san’s design, I had no hand in it, but I don’t think it’s that similar to Hime-chan’s?

Q. It seems like demons have long lifespans, so does the Demon World have problems with overpopulation?

A. In order to birth a new demon, you need to have a fair amount of mana and a good amount of skill in manipulating it. Alternately, you need to meet someone who you’re really in perfect sync with. Because of that, their population doesn’t increase that much.

Q. I really really love the “three burrs” hairstyle - will Ros never wear his hair that way again?

A. That hairstyle was something done by the first hairstylist he went to after he was unsealed, so unless he goes to that exact hairstylist again, he won’t have that hairstyle.

Q. What is Dezember and Justice’s newlywed life like? Is Dezember the househusband after all?

A. Though Justice was getting things going with the wedding, Dezember ran away so their newlywed life hasn’t begun. Their dynamic is kinda like the one in Urusei Yatsura.

Q. Rchi is now over 12. How does Rudolf feel about this?

A. I thought that Rudolf was good with anyone below 13? Was it only until 10? But even if she grows past Rudolf’s age ceiling, he won’t really stop being kind to her. He would stop spoiling her so much though, in how he used to do whatever she asked with no strings asked. He would instead start saying that it’s important to try things out yourself too. That’s the only thing that would change.

Q. F5 is a regular manga, so are there any plans to release a physical volume for it?

A. Not in the slightest.

Q. Cecily and Lake were living alone together before reuniting with Ros, so how did their neighbours react to a young teenager Lake having a younger brother in his 20s?

A. Their neighbours don’t think of Ros as the younger brother - they more just think of him as Cecily’s son who came back home from afar. I think updating the family registry wouldn’t have been hard with the connections they have in the government.

Q. I would like you to tell me how Januar got into ninja and tomato farming.

A. He got into ninja because they’re cool, and he got into tomato farming because tomatoes are yummy.

Q. Elf and Alf were time travelling in Season 4 - I would like it if you made a detailed timeline of what they and other characters did. (For example, Alf erased Elf’s memories during X time, at this time Rchimedes and Creasion were doing Y, etc.)

A. When I was writing Season 4, I did make a timeline, but I’m not sure where it went... what Elf and Alf did is all written in the article before this one, “My Memos”. I don’t think things have changed much from the timeline there for Elf and Alf, so please figure things out from there!

(T/N: I’ll consider translating that article at some point... it’s a lot of text... and it’s all disjointed... 

Though I guess this Q/A is also a lot of text, I’m already at 3.5k words.)

Q. In the extra chapter in Season 2, “Right Before Episode 60″, Foyfoy asks if Marl wants to come to the castle with him, but do the two of them actually live in the castle itself? Or do they live near the castle?

A. Marl does live in the castle because she thinks it’s cool to live in a castle.

Q. Why are Elf and Alf not returning to their original time (ignoring the new future timeline after their changes) and are instead working at Alba’s research center?

A. Because they look up to Alba and want to help him out.

Q. Do you have any thoughts on how Alba watches over all kinds of worlds out there?

A. I do think, “That seems rather dangerous, doesn’t it?” But I also think, “Well, it’s Alba-san, he’ll be fine.”

Q. Personally, I feel like Senyuu. has a lot of whiplash between comedic scenes and serious scenes. Is there any particular scene you drew while specifically considering this whiplash?

A. Senyuu, is a work I drew as an amateur out of sheer willpower alone, so it isn’t that it has a lot of whiplash between comedic and serious scenes - it’s just that I didn’t understand a thing. “Woo hoo! This seems fun!” was the only thing on my mind. As a bystander, you may wonder, “How can he zoom right into that corner at that speed?” while watching me cruise along in my vehicle, but in reality, you just didn’t know that I was unaware of the fact that zooming into that corner at that speed could result in death. If I wrote Senyuu. the way I am now, I think it would end up being a much tidier manga, much easier to read as well, but I doubt it’d have that same speed and power to it.

Q. I had a question about Rchimedes the First’s character design. Did you give him black and white hair because you personally thought it was really cool? And then you thought it was too cool for him so you made his clothes super lame as a compromise?

A. It was all just from powering through drawing him. I did think “Wow, his clothes are lame!” but I immediately ignored it and continued drawing.

Q. Somewhere along the line, cellphones have spread among the masses - does Ros have one? And really, who’s making them?

A. From the very start, I planned for Senyuu. to be unconstrained by the chains of fantasy and include technology. Even in the start of Season 1, there’s a picture of Ros holding a DS at one point. Since it’s a manga, I completely intend to ignore real-life technological development timelines.

Q. Ros has pretty lax shifts - six day weekends and only needing to come in from the afternoon. Does he really only go to work once a week?

A. He doesn’t even go to work once a week. He does no work but wanders over to the research center to loiter around when he feels like it.

Q. In Senyuu+, Alba seems pretty tired sometimes. Is working at the research center actually pretty bad? As in, does it require a lot of overtime?

A. It isn’t bad, Alba is just going ahead and doing the work he wants to do, then going ahead and getting all tired because of it. From the perspective of the government running it, even just having the world’s hero Alba owning a research center they manage is good enough. It would be fine even if Alba never showed up at the research center at all and never did even one iota of work. Alba is just doing his best for everyone’s sake. Lately, he rests properly.

Q. Boss seems to have accessories and clothes other than his hoodie. Does he buy all of them himself?

A. Yes, he does. I talk about this in the doujinshi Filled It With My Feelings as well!

(T/N: If you enjoyed reading any of this tidbits, please consider supporting Haruhara by purchasing the original article on his channel: ch.nicovideo.jp/haruhara-ch/blomaga/ar1939122)

[konietzko-sylvoran]

You Reap what you Sow

Daily Writing Challenge Day 10 - Reap 9/29

“The Two of Wands indicates a period of personal growth.  It's a time to embark on new adventures, taking time to research carefully before you make decisions. Acting decisively gains you respect of others, and by committing all of your energy to new people, you build a path to success."  ~ Fortune Teller Caythaes - ToA 2020 Again the fortune teller’s words were brought to Koneitzko’s thoughts as he lay there in their pandaren bed at the nearby inn. While Talthorn slept against his chest he couldn’t rest, though this time it wasn’t from a troubled mind but from the fact that in all this happiness and joy there was still something missing. For whatever reason perhaps because he had no other sense of direction but the card reader’s words, he couldn’t let go of this reading in particular. That it was time to embark on new adventures. Time... to commit all his energy to new people and build a path to success. At first he had thought the card simply meant that it was time for personal growth in accepting that this mysterious extravagant magi could be something more to him. That instead of turning him away or assuming that he’d be just a flavor of the week he should commit time to get to know him and see if there was more he might offer. And he did. He still didn’t know how or why Talthorn respected him, trusted him even loved him as much as he did - but he also didn’t question it either. But maybe the card wasn’t just about Talthorn... perhaps, it went even deeper yet.  "Three of Wands. This follows the path of the previous card, indicating that careful planning will pay off. It cautions that rejecting good advice, or by making decisions in haste you will meet failure , however, success is possible. It will be up to you to visualize obstacles, and anticipate problems before they appear. Be precise when weighing the risks before making important decisions. I have faith in you, May the Eternal Sun guide you."  ~ Fortune Teller Caythaes - ToA 2020 As he reflected on his future card, this was the card that gave him pause. He knew how easily he could fail. He knew how much careful planning was -not- his way of life. He lived freely, day by day, night by night, carefree and acted on a whim. It was why he did so well in attracting different lovers because so many craved that ability to just let go and live free as he did and he always gave off that energy. But it also left him empty and lonely and that was not something he had expected to feel as he lay there with someone who made him feel so whole and at home. What good advice was he rejecting? Had he rejected anything as of late? Or was it more he was just being dismissive and not taking subtle ploys to get him to work with others seriously? Was Sharpen just being Sharpen, or was he truly offering Konietzko advice at mention of joining the Succulent Tarts. Was his desire to be in the night life again blinding him from Jiroki’s advice to join her mercenary group? Should he stray from the night life entirely considering how much he’d drowned himself in it before? Just how long would he resist the urge of the fix of drugs, alcohol and tantalizing offers to join others in more than just a dance? He certainly almost fumbled just by being asked his name when with the famed fire dancer. He wouldn’t do that to Talthorn without his thoughts or permission... or at least, he truly hoped he wouldn’t. Talthorn had never made any demands of him but he just couldn’t bring himself to do what he’d done in the past. If he gave in to that impulse or those desires to numb his senses would he stop himself if the right elf walked past him? He couldn’t afford to think such things but these were all risks he had to weigh before choosing to even consider this. As he felt Talthorn start to stir and wake, he knew the first if not the only person he should confide in to find his best advice. "With our lives bringing us to such wonderful places as of late, I think it would be an opportune time to inquire about your thoughts in really accepting one of these organizations we are becoming closer with? I know it was an interest of yours! But I don't know....everything." Talthorn smirks up from his place on Kon’s chest, ready to hear what his lover speak about wonderful possibilities with him. A genuine look of curiosity and somewhat shock overcame Kon’s face, followed by one of his endearing smiles. "This must be a small sample of what it feels like to be so in tune with your heart's other half that you both know what weighs heavy on their thoughts before they even bring it up." He said as his own way of admitting shock to being asked what he'd been thinking most of the time he slept. "I am greatly interested in those we've come to associate with as of late, I always have been if honest but I stepped away out of fear that it was only because of my former life." He admitted not wanting to sour the mood any but it was his truth and he trusted that Talthorn would never become upset with how often he spoke of his former marriage even if he truly hardly spoke much of it in detail at all. "I greatly  enjoy their shows, their energy and as you now have experienced yourself it is heartwarming how welcoming they are with their patrons and fans. I suppose, there is a part of me that has always been drawn to it. Though it wasn't till Sharpen mentioned it that I ever truly considered the fact that I... that -we- even perhaps may tantalize the idea of being more than just their audience." Talthorn mms in response about the heartwarming factors truly feeling that too! It was a lovely draw. He paused a moment when Konietzko said -we-, blinking a few times at him. The magi was so flattered with these thoughts the other spoke out loud. "Really! The both of us...? " his eyes shimmer and dart to a side in thought while his smile broadens. Why had he not thought so easily that he could join his partner in this? "Yes..." Kon said with a warm amusement in his eyes and tone as he caressed his face again. "-We- you and I, of course I would not wish to ask you to leave whatever other commitments you already have.” Talthorn looked back up with inquisitive eyes. He would address that in a minute. Questions slowly begin to surface. "I had wanted to ask about that, if you did want to join with them? What would you wish to do? To me there is no question that you could be stage worthy if you truly wanted to be any sort of entertainer." “If you so wished it, I do believe that -we- have much to offer. I learned a few things during my time with Sivandris. Not everything that came from those days was bad, and I know how much I enjoy dancing, singing even if so compelled." He admitted with some thought. "Though at times I wonder if simply being a greeter, an attractive lure to welcome patrons and entice them to divulge a little is perhaps more my forte. I admire a man who knows his worth, who knows how many heads he turns when he walks into a room and owns it. There was a time I used to radiate that energy though I was always pale in comparison to him." He said as he looked Talthorn in the eyes and caressed his cheek. "Just as I pale in the energy and charm that you yourself offer. I belong as a support role in all that I do and I am alright with that. But I would be willing to learn to become something more. With the Tarts, I feel they might accept us for how we draw others in. But with the Owls... well, perhaps it is more our mystery and the hidden potential I hope to one day bring forth. But it does not mean we can't start in the background and work our way up to the stage." Talthorn felt his heart skip at the mention of -them- being a part of something else together. A community of people, that he could really come to know that had similar looks of life. He looked ready to downright protest with the words of his beloved saying he didn't radiate! He bristles in would be words and wills himself to listen a bit more. "Well, I can accept that if we were to consider being a part of these places that put on such displays, that we might need to take a bit of time to learn what it is we might excel in." Talthorn caresses over the man's skin tenderly. "But you'll find out for yourself quickly if you were to be a greeter just how much you do shine my heart. I don't think you realize how many people are captivated by the essence you are." He gazed again with a smile before needing to shake off his enchanted stare. "And -we- would be very good at being welcoming to others, definitely." He looked confident with those words. "Be apart of the experience, just in a much different way." He then hmmed about this with some thought. "You really are such a natural with people. We both are, in our own ways. And I do enjoy the very idea of getting to help make our, and others life experiences that much better. Really live life! This would be a way to do so. Hm, do we have to choose between them?" There was a level of discomfort there. For Kon, there was a sense of ease that Talthorn not only agreed but that he thought so highly of their skills and what they had to offer. "This is one of many reasons I am growing to love you, I do hope you know that Talthorn." He said still caressing his bearded cheek. “ "Why don't we ask them if they'd accept us first, with the fact  that we wish to in the long run aspire to be performers for both. But in the start... we can only offer the skills we have now. Why you could be a photographer even if you so desired. What I'm saying is let us talk with them and see. But I do wish for your thoughts on the matter. So what say you then my extravagant Kal? Shall we embark on this journey together to see what we are to become? Owls, Tarts whatever.” "That is a brilliant idea! Let's speak to them! I can't -wait- to see what they think of us being apart of their organizations. They could very well feel like a second family. In a sense, they already do? The idea of them having common ideas and interests as we do, definitely puts them in a similar category. I can do a great deal of things, and I am sure they will be open to more positive involvements. I -want- to do and be more for this world! A way to find more life to live, and to share it with you." Talthorn spoke warmly, moving in to kiss his lips tenderly. Konietzko warmly smiled as he met his lips, happy to receive it and trusting that Talthorn was speaking in truth because till he caught him in a lie why wouldn't he? He simply chose to believe that Talthorn wouldn't. With Talthorn at his side, he could now take his time to research into this carefully before making decisions. He could commit all his energy to new people and plant the seeds to building something successful in his life. Something meaningful, something more. 

While he had always had a strong liking and fan base with the performers of the Howling Owl, their events and he certainly enjoyed them still after the festival this weekend, he was also developing a fondness for the Tarts as it was them who helped him find Talthorn. Besides... Sharpen did owe him a pony. The thought of that alone made him laugh as he sat there at the desk with four applications in hand. Two for the Howling Owl, and two for the Succulent Tarts. He looked across the table to Talthorn as they both had finished filling them out together and drew in a deep breath. “This is it...” He said softly with an odd sense of butterflies in his stomach. And as he delivered them to the mailbox and closed it he turned to look to Talthorn as he bit his bottom lip. “Now we sit... and wait... and in the meantime we decide what costumes we’re to wear to their hallow eve events!”

@daily-writing-challenge​ Some of this writing credit goes to @talthorn-sylvoran​ as part of this was my rp the night prior with him! Mentioned in the writing - @talthorn-sylvoran @sharpen-jadescythe @bread-elf @succulent-tart @howlingowl-wra @saeil-moonblade @mekandawn

[supernovadragoncat]

Thunderstruck Outtake: Sally Cancels the THOT in Sandor’s Dressing Room (What happened after Chapter 14)

Dedicated to @jennusdemenus who asked for a glimpse into what happened directly after Chapter 14 (aka what happened to that THOT in Sandor’s dressing room, you know the one!) 

Read on below the cut to find out! 

You can catch Thunderstruck here on AO3 and here on FF.net! Only two chapters left!  

Back to the door, Sally watched the venue thin out. This bit was always the same. The city or the venue didn’t matter. Groupies and drunks, they were always the last to go. The drunks would plant themselves in an empty floor and wail for another encore well after the band left the stage and the crew started clearing off the gear. The groupies would flock to the door Sally had planted himself in front of and wield their feminine wiles in hopes of sneaking past.

As it stood, neither the groupies nor the drunks got too far, and Sally occupied himself with self-indulgent daydreams. He was usually hungry right about now. Having scrambled for scraps earlier, tonight was no exception. While Cannibal Star was likely on the prowl for booze and women, Sally had one thing on his mind.

Soft and sweet. Heaven on his lips. He’d savor every moment.

I shouldn’t.

He’d already had two cupcakes, but then also that beer and he wasn’t a twenty-something anymore, metabolism burning through every bit of bullshit he put in his body. His gut could prove it; the wobbly bits that hadn’t been there two years ago and showed no signs of slowing down now.

What’s a third cupcake when you’ve already had two? Sally reasoned with himself.

Catering got the kind he liked; the icing wasn’t too sweet and melted like butter on a hot July day in his mouth. Not that he ever let it be known. This shit wasn’t about him and he was just grateful no one had told him to pound sand yet. If anything, Cannibal Star had become some of his closest friends, the crew like family. They took care of their own and catering got the cupcakes he liked. That must count for something.

A flurry of activity snapped Sally out of his daydream. The crew all appeared absolutely addled as a roadie hurried across the stage, hollering about something or another that beckoned the others to gape in saucer-eyed wonder. The roadie jumped down to the floor and rushed to Sally.

“Shit’s going down. Sandor and his girl,” the kid panted and nudged his way past Sally and through the door that led to the hall.

“Oh my God!” Sally damn near punted the roadie out of his way and bolted down the corridor. He caught of glimpse of fiery red hair blazing towards the back door and Sandor looking like the world was crumbling around him.

Sandor turned to Sally, at a loss and out of words, any stray bits of explanation he could manage. That all fled the man now and he tore into his dressing room like a tornado, fury quick on the heels of emotional ruin and it was a wonder the flimsy door wasn’t ripped off the hinges.

“Trouble with the little lady?”

Sally hovered outside the dressing room and recognized the voice emanating from the other side. Mona the Monster’s ludicrous attempt at sultry banter was embarrassing even in the best of times and now solidified her place squarely on the blacklist of shame.

The men of Cannibal Star didn’t spook easy and certainly put up with their fair share of crazy if it meant getting laid at the end of it. It took a lot to get added to the blacklist.

“Get the fuck out!” Sandor’s shouts exploded into the hall and he bounded towards the doorway, wrangling Mona by her upper arm as he went.

“If you think I’ll tell you twice, you’re stupider than I’ve always known you to be.”

The woman’s feet barely had the opportunity to the meet the floor before her mostly naked ass was being tossed into the hall for Cannibal Star, the crew, and all of God’s green creation to see.

Ankles buckling, she stumbled and barely caught herself when her arms shot to the cinderblock wall.

“I’m actually very intelligent—” she fired back, equal parts furious and haughty even now, mostly naked and looking haggard in the harsh fluorescent lights beaming up above.

Anger like Sally had never seen consumed Sandor. Wide-eyed fury, fists curled, chest heaving, and face burning red—if Sally didn’t know any better, Sandor was teetering on the precipice of quite literally exploding.

“You’re trash! That’s all you’ve ever been,” he seethed in a commendable show of restraint, so much so the man was shaking. He pointed a trembling finger at Mona the Monster.

A crowd had gathered in the corridor, the message having spread like wildfire. By Sally’s estimate, the entire production now lined the hall to watch this holy terror finally get taken to task. Mona the Monster had a reputation all her own—an ungodly abomination of self-righteous entitlement and paper-thin self-esteem.

Sandor shifted towards her in a quiet step and a faint smirk Sally knew to be the calm in the storm. The fury roiled beneath the surface but next came the exacting cruelty that Sandor wielded better than anyone Sally knew.

Mona seemed to know what was coming too. Her eyes scanned the hall of faces all watching in twisted delight at her impending downfall. Her arms crossed over her chest in a laughable attempt at modesty.

“In all these years you’ve been around, spreading your legs for anything with a guitar and a pulse, I’ve never gone for you,” Sandor began, voice a deep rumble, but his eyes still flashed with rage. “I haven’t even looked at you twice. I find a girl who’s leaps and bounds better than you in every conceivable way, the first girl I’ve ever loved, and that’s when you think I’m going to hit it? Tell me again how intelligent you are. You’re nothing. You’re old, your tits are saggy, you reek of cigarettes and booze. Even at your youngest, all you could ever offer anyone was a lousy lay and now you’ve defined new levels of disgusting and that’s the only distinction you’re worthy of.”  

Snickering and quiet encouragement rolled over the crowd. Mona’s eyes darted up and down the hall, desperate to find a sympathetic gaze to latch onto. For some absurd reason, her eyes landed on Sally.

“Don’t look at me!” Sally barked. “You’ve done it now, you nasty bitch.”

“Like you’ve ever amounted to anything,” Mona snapped. “You’re a nobody!”

All at once, the members of Cannibal Star hurled themselves from their perches throughout the hall, peeling away with congruent fervor to be done with Mona the Monster.

“Done! You’re done!” Sandor bellowed and lurched towards her, settling in next to Sally’s side. “If I ever see you at one of our shows or practices, you even breathe the name ‘Cannibal Star’ in this city, you’re getting a Stratocaster shoved so far up your ass, you’ll be choking on the strings for the rest of your shit-filled life.” Sandor leveled irate eyes at Sally. “Take out the trash.”

Sandor turned on his heel without another glance and disappeared in his dressing room. Silence blanketed the hall.

After all these years, the shame finally caught up to Mona and, when it came, it came like an avalanche. For the rest of them, justice came just as mighty and sugary sweet. Tears rolled down Mona’s cheeks in a river of jet-black mascara. In one last ditch effort, she reached for Thoros, tits now exposed for all to see.

“A bridge too far. Get the fuck out,” he grumbled and eyed her in a way no groupie ever wanted to be regarded. Sandor had the right of it—disgust. This woman was worthy of nothing more than that.

Mona stumbled towards Harwin, probably seeking out the softest of the bunch, the one most likely to toss her stray bits of sympathy. Sally held his breath and said a little prayer that the kid would keep his wits about him.  

“You heard the man,” Harwin sniped with usual iciness. “You’re done. Get out.”

In a few more faltering steps and gasping cries, Mona eased down the hall towards Bronn. Sally fell in after her, blocking her path should she try to flee the other way. Mona blubbered a plea and Bronn crossed his arms tight over his chest.

“This was a long time coming, sweetheart. We all stand behind his decision. Get gone.” Bronn motioned to the door at the end of the hall leading to the parking lot.

Sally remembered now that’s where that sweet little Sansa had disappeared, and he hoped like hell that girl still wasn’t out there. Or maybe it was better if she was—she could witness Mona’s fall from grace, though she probably wouldn’t enjoy it as much as the crew was now.

A wave of applause rolled down the hall, growing louder as Mona continued towards the doors with Sally close behind. At the end of the line, no rope left to cling to, Mona turned to Sally.

“Can I at least get my clothes?” she pleaded on a quivering breath.

In only heels and a thong, Mona tried in earnest to cover herself. Sally reached around her and pushed open the door. A blast of chilly air swept through.

“No, should’ve thought about that when you took them off in his dressing room.” Sally shoved Mona through to the other side and followed after. She shivered against the night air. “I mean, he came here with her. How fucking stupid are you? What exactly did you expect?”

Mona lifted her eyes from the ground and glared at Sally but must’ve thought the better of mouthing off. As it stood, she was the one humiliated for all to see and standing outside naked. Sally scanned the parking lot for Sansa and thanked the man upstairs that she wasn’t here. Hopefully, she was safe and okay.

Sally spotted a flattened cardboard box perched against the fence on the other side of the lot. He motioned his head towards it. “You can cover yourself with that.”

She had the audacity to scoff. The offended breath escaped her thin, ugly lips that snarled at him. Sally prodded her shoulder with his finger and stepped to her, forcing Mona to shuffle backwards.

“Now you listen here, and you listen well, you tramp—Sansa is beautiful, and kind and she loves him. You’re not even in the same Universe as her. You have nothing to offer him. And if you think she’s some lovesick hanger-on, I’ve known that man far longer than you have, and I’ve never seen him like this. He loves her too.

“Nothing’s coming between them. Not a tour, not distance, not time. Nothing. Mark my words, they’re it for each other and they’ll figure this out. And you’ll still be a dried-up, bitter hag.

“Like he said. You’re done. I’m putting the crew on notice. If anyone catches a whiff of your skanky ass, you’ll leave here missing more than just your clothes next time.”

“Bye now!” he taunted with a wave before pulling the door shut.

On the other side, the hall had cleared out, both shows of the night now over. Sally retreated to the catering room and poked his head inside. The stars aligned in a rare formation and by some celestial miracle one lone cupcake sat pristine and unaccounted for on the table. Sally plucked it from the spot on the plate and admired the swirl of white icing on the top.

Back down the hall, he cradled the cupcake in his hands but the little flush of joy he felt was short lived as he passed Sandor’s dressing room door, wide open now. Inside, Sandor dwarfed the chair he sat in, elbows to knees and his forehead cradled in the palm of his hand.

Sally hovered beneath the doorframe, almost certain Sandor was aware that a presence had joined him. His shoulders tensed and his breathing shallowed, but the man remained resolute in his abject misery that kept him rooted where he was.

“Anything I can do?” Sally ventured.

Face still obscured, Sandor didn’t move other than the faint shake of his head. It was a wasted courtesy anyhow. What exactly could he do? Anything he could think to offer would be like tossing fistfuls of dirt into a gaping chasm that’d been created in Sandor’s life. The futility was absurd, and the man was so clearly already suffering the loss.

Sally’s gaze drifted to the cupcake in his hand—the last one, but he’d already had two, so the right choice was glaringly obvious. He paced into the room in shuffled steps and stopped in front of Sandor.  

“Here. Take this.” He held out the cupcake and Sandor finally lifted his head from his hand. Sally saw clear enough what he’d been trying to hide. Sandor’s eyes glistened with tears.  

“Those are your favorite.” Sandor shook his head and settled back in the seat. “Why do you think we tell catering to get them?”

“Always assumed it was a coincidence,” Sally shrugged. “Then it sounds like there will be plenty of cupcakes in my future. Take it.”

He jabbed the cupcake towards Sandor who took it from Sally and set it on the table next to him.

“Thank you,” Sandor murmured on a voice almost as deflated as he looked.  

A cumbersome silence fell between them and Sally took it as his cue to leave. He retreated to the door but stopped beneath the frame.

“If you’re curious, after handing her ass to her, I told her touring, distance, time, a tramp in your dressing room—I don’t honestly believe any of that is going to come between you and Sansa.”

“How do you know that?” Sandor countered and a deep crease of contemplation settled between his brows.

Sally could’ve laughed. It was obvious. Everyone that met Sansa tonight commented on it in one way or another and it all distilled down to the same damn thing—something shifted in Sandor with her around. She quieted him in a way, the stillness of peace for a man so accustomed to a life uprooted and unsettled; one who prided himself on being grounded and Sansa rooted him in a different reality—one where he was worthy of love and she was more than willing to give it.

Sandor had no family, nothing much to call his own, except now her and it scared the poor bastard in a way that meant he understood the gravity of what he’d been given. In some ways, Sally couldn’t blame him; the guy had been given the keys to the kingdom and bore the responsibility of not fucking it up.

“Just a feeling,” Sally said because how the fuck was he supposed to explain all this? The man would figure it out one way or another. “When you know, you know. You know?”

Sandor expelled a quiet laugh. “Yeah, I do know,” he said, shouldering the tremendous weight of regret. Sally had been there. The lessons of age came with more than just a few extra pounds and some things were heavier and harder to carry.

“Was she out there?” he asked and, when his eyes drifted from the floor to Sally, Sandor looked caught in a tangle between devastating sadness and foolhardy hopefulness.

“No, man. She’s left.”

Once more, Sally glimpsed the way Sandor’s eyes glistened when his gaze returned to the floor. Sandor bit his bottom lip hard and nodded.

Sally offered what paltry advice he could, and it wasn’t about placating the man. He and Sandor had an honest understanding, one that meant they could speak freely with one another and Sally took that liberty where he could and right now Sandor needed it.

“She may have left, but that doesn’t mean she’s gone,” Sally offered. “And you may not be able to get her back tonight but, one of these nights, you will. You just wait and see.”

It was a call to faith and Sally didn’t know much about what Sandor believed in and in some ways it didn’t matter. Certain things superseded the superficial constructs of belief and love was one of them. And if there were ever two people desperately, stupidly in love with one another, it was Sansa and Sandor and sooner or later they’d figure it out.

[gothamstreetcat]

Please share your thoughts based of the bingo cards below because I wanna know 👀

i am absolutely going to be talking about all things controversial below the cut: ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵈᵒⁿ'��� ʳᵉᵃᵈ ᶦ�� ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃ ᶠᵃⁿ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵃʳᵇᵃʳᵃ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵃᵇᶦᵗʰᵃ 

season one

there isn't much I think is super controversial in season one, but I will definitely be talking about selina, the batcat kiss, and the overall season itself

on selina i have to say i was a little nervous before the show aired. it’s silly but also understandable for me because i always find myself getting nervous whenever someone new takes on a character I love. but honestly, i think camren is the best selina kyle we could have asked for. there is just always something about each catwoman/selina kyle i didn’t like, but with camren i think we get the most true and genuine portrayal because gotham shows her childhood—a obviously important part to selina’s character. it’s a side of her we never get to see much of in the comics or in films, and i just find it a very important part to her character. 

sometimes I think people are too drawn into making selina something more (holy tim burton, batman! she’s got cat powers!). and I hate to throw tim  under the bus with this, but over time the whole cat powers thing really pissed me off because part of what I loved about selina was how she was a regular person. she didn’t need cat powers to be great or special. it also kinda makes me sad when people compare cam’s selina so much to pfeiffer’s because a. camren is her own selina and shouldn’t be put under that kind of pressure and b. I really can’t see someone as tough as camren’s selina becoming some old man’s assistant with “corndogs” as a (cat)chprase(?) 

i know it’s silly, but another thing about cam’s selina is how much i just love her. i just grew up wanting to be her and be like her. i wanted to be hardened by city streets and i know it’s dumb but i don’t think i have to explain why i feel such a strong way about her. we all have our favorite characters. **more of this hot mess in the tags

moving into the batcat kiss i was initially really uncomfortable and disappointed with it. david and cam were young at the time, therefore, so were bruce and selina, and i just honestly feel like it was too soon. however, i know in an interview they talked about it and were okay with it—cam saying how she was able to separate herself from the character—so I have grown to be more tolerant of it (is it dumb to say i was a little embarrassed for them because that’s how i would feel if it was me?) i am also not innocent because i did make a gifset of the kiss but it was also paired with selina asking for bruce’s consent, and i only made it because i liked the parallels (queue a young me making gifs on makeagif.com) Now, I will highly advocate for that gifset because to me it really shows how much selina went to get bruce’s ‘okay’ before she kissed him. i feel as though we are always advocating so much when it comes to a woman’s consent but never when it is a man’s and both are equally as important but we’ll get into that later in this post. 

another thing i want to add, is how i’d like to believe i have some idea as to why they did the kiss in the first place. i want to believe it had something to do with the trauma of the day, or the fact that bruce is a boy who showed selina genuine kindness when she is clearly someone who has gone without. god forbid it only to be seen as ‘cute’ but perhaps, because selina wanted to know what it felt like to be touched in that sort of way. by someone like Bruce (who was innocent and had never been kissed) maybe it was some sort of way to thank him or a parting gift, to which i’m sure people would say that’s wrong but i feel with selina’s background it makes sense. as if it was a way for bruce to remember her by. now, i personally wouldn’t know what any of that feels like so maybe that throws all my credibility out the window but these are just my ideas.

the season overall i hold onto dear, i know we all have our favorites and this isn’t controversial, but you can’t beat the first. sometimes, i do feel like shows lose their way and loose that little spark when they first got started. and to be honest, i did feel that a little with gotham. not only that (and i’ve said this before so i’m sorry if i’m a broken record) but with gotham it gaves us these characters we are so used to seeing a certain way. the show took these seeming monsters and turned them human and we as watchers related to them. edward nygma was a nerd working at the gcpd. oswald was a guy holding an umbrella, turned dishwasher who then became the king of gotham. poison ivy was just a kid. everything was so new and fresh and exciting. so yeah, i think that’s a wrap on season one

season two

the only thing i am really going to talk about from this season was ‘babitha.’ again, i am sorry for anyone who follows me, is reading this and is a fan of them but in all seriousness: their relationship was toxic as hell. first off, i really didn’t like barbara nor tabitha before hand. barbara always felt whiny and needy while tabitha was played like some ditzy woman for her brother. together they were highly annoying, and i almost hate say that because independently tabitha was a really strong character. i still didn’t like her but i see and appreciate her without her brother. 

going into that i really think there where times barbara dragged her down. times where barbara was unstable, power-hungry and it just seemed like tabitha was not enough unless she had more. barbara also didn’t seem to like the idea that butch had a special place in tabitha’s heart (and then later killed him). i mean this is a funny way, but barbara can come off like that kid who was never told ‘no’ in her life.

not to mention when tabitha died and barbara went and fucked jim for the sake it of, i guess. i know everyone grieves differently and holy batgirl, batman! but it doesn’t seem right.

i wish i had more to say on them with better examples, but i honestly have way more to say regarding the sirens so i’m gonna let you read that instead.

honorable mentions include: bridgit pike deserving better because that girl could never catch a break. and the true ending of herself and karen jennings meeting, falling in love, and leaving gotham together. it honestly makes me sad i made up this ship and it feels like i’m the only one keeping it afloat. 

season three

again, i have my issues regarding the siren’s team up, so i was unhappy when they decided to make tabitha galavan selina’s mentor. i personally would not want to pair someone as vulnerable as selina with someone who physically and mentally abused her, but okay gotham. so that is where my ted grant comment came in, i assume you’ve read the comics and know that ted was one of the few who originally trained selina before becoming catwoman. therefore, i was disappointed they didn’t use him as i find him a better canidate for a mentor but also such an important person in her story. he would have been a great addition to the show. 

of course my first honorable mention must go to the batman returns scene because you’re only hip if piggy-back off of tim burton. as i mentioned above i don’t like how much cam’s selina is compared to pfieffer’s. i don’t understand why they had to re-create something i already think is over hyped when gotham is already a great show on it’s own, it would have been redeeming if they had not done the ‘cat power’ thing in season five but thankfully they didn’t really use it.it really pisses me off how much they really tried to make that scene frame for frame. 

my second honorable mention is going to be given to selina not knowing five was bruce because of his scars & alfred and maria respectively. i could talk a lot about why i love maria and alfred--i understand why people don’t like her and they’re right to do so, however, i do think they are right for one another. they both have jaded pasts, and yeah, the show was teasing love-interests for alfred a here and there but how can you not be happy for him when he saw selina’s mom? i think people should be redeemed and i honestly think maria was at least changed by her time at wayne manor and if you want i wrote a fic about alfred and maria but it’s totally bad writing wise so don’t read it. also. i’m sorry it’s dirty and i couldn’t go through with it. it’s kinda bad

as for selina and five i think there is something imamate about selina knowing bruce’s scars (not gonna lie,i was honestly going to talk about this but i’m too tired and don’t think i have anything meaningful to have)

season four

this is probably going to be the hardest season for me to talk about. and the only two things i’m going to cover are the toxic manipulation and abuse between the sirens team-up, as well as the sexual abuse bruce endured.

on the sirens i just wanna say i hopefully plan in the future to make a master-post involving this trio. i want to be as clear as possible and include the episodes but in case i don’t i’m just going to try my best. keep in mind i made this post regarding this topic a long time ago if you want the quick version. if you do check it out it’s been a while since i read it so it is probably messy and ugly. i also want to point out i’m going to try and talk about how much of the adults in selina’s life failed her. barbara and tabitha hit this mark pretty hard since at least barbara was there in the beginning stages of her life, and the trio themselves were made to appear as some sort of strong power-house.

i get on a surface level why fans like the barabra/tabitha + selina team-up (because girl power i guess), but i honestly can’t get over the abuse selina endured to even get to the point of being in a group. much of their relationship seemed more about tabitha and barbara loving to have her rather then love her, period. there were times during their involvement that it was clear selina was not an equal, and times where being with them made selina weaker (speaking about when she called upon them for help in that one episode where she was trapped, yet you’re telling me this is the same girl who took out that guy’s eyes from season one?) several times, selina appeared to be talked down to and treated as though she couldn’t handle tasks, yet has been homeless her whole life and has broken in and out of prison. 

the interaction between barbara and selina from season one haunts me a great deal for the way barbara spoke to selina and was objectifying her. i made a long-post/ask about it here which i encourage you to look at. this is particularly hard for me to talk about for the simple fact of selina being a child of the streets and barbara speaking to her like she’s trying to pimp her out *for lack of a better way of saying it* i just don’t think this is something an adult should be saying to selina because the truth is that barabara is the adult and should do better. her and tabitha even dressed her up for that club commercial (in which selina was clearly unhappy) and had her running a club full of underage kids developing a drinking problem and one very small boy being taken advantage of. 

people hate it when alfred slapped selina but when tabitha punched selina unconscious and kidnaped her for barbara it’s no big deal

and the episode “to our deaths and beyond” hits deepest and is a clean sign of manipulation when they both tricked selina into bringing bruce so they could mutilate him for his blood. even when he was crying and panicking barbara help him down and tabitha held selina back from helping him. 

here is a gifset about the scene and *lex i’m sorry for using your set if you happen to see this (but please don’t see this because i don’t wanna make anyone feel bad and i just want to speak freely about what i believe) 

again, not treating selina with respect, and when she straight told them she would have not brought bruce BECAUSE HE IS HER FRIEND, tabitha got defense and questioned her loyalty. first off, you are an adult and should know how to act better. she knew selina wouldn’t have brought bruce otherwise because they knew what they were doing was wrong. they knew how much bruce meant to selina and for them to try to guilt her is awful in itself. tricking and manipulating bruce is awful. mutilating him is awful. and holding selina back from helping her friend after you lied to her is awful--this is honestly one of the most sickening things for me to watch *not to mention why you would not want selina to be friends with bruce when he’s clearly a great guy* (but the gifset is pretty no question. shout-out to lex for being so talented)

in addition to this, the entire selina getting shot storyline is right up there too. i understand the writer’s didn’t have enough time to flesh everything out but it wasn’t even mentioned once that barbara and tabitha went to visit her. i believe tabitha might have mentioned it but it was only to get revenge over jeremiah, but they never visited her or checked on her, and she tried to kill herself and still nothing. 

now, i’m not trying to be all biased for bruce wayne because he was there for her every singe day and never left her side. nor would i ever mention that idea of bruce physically helping selina care for her own body when she couldn’t. how he got her that medicine to heal her pain and held her while she screamed that she wanted to die. all the while doing everything he could to help her not feel that way again.

you can say a lot of things about bruce wayne. people love to talk shit about him. but at the end of the day you can never say he was a bad friend, because he was the best. and you can’t say that for barbara and tabitha (not only to add how all the abuse was never brought up nor apologized for)

now, onto something that i am a big advocate for and particularly boils my blood. bruce’s alcohol problem and constant physical abuse by the adults in the show. 

i am mainly speaking about ivy (peyton list) however, while reading a reddit thread someone said that grace’s actress as twenty-one years of age, also kissing david (who i believe was sixteen at the time). someone else, also said that it wasn’t really illegal but i honestly do not care. if the roles were reversed and it was a young girl vs an older man, people would be in outrage and i don’t think that should change be it david.

the scene with peyton particularly bothers me because she is substantially older, and while you could argue it might not be david based off how the scene was shot, i highly doubt it. it’s wrong no matter how you slice it and it particularly bothers me because the abuse surrounding men/boys is taken so lightly. i’m not trying to put presidency over female abuse, as i believe both are equal in how awful they are, but there is evidence behind males being mocked. something that is at a higher volume, and it makes me wonder the number of rapes that go unreported or those who can’t talk about it because they won’t be believed. i’ve already seen it but i would be lying if i said i wasn’t worried for david to be conditioned to think what happened to him was fun or cool.

on top of all the kissing in the club scene followed by waking up in bed with the two girls--i would not hesitate to think he was taken advantage of in some way. i also can’t even think of his drinking days and not think of all the people who potentially abused him.

i obviously can’t speak for david and perhaps i’m grasping at straws but this is something that bother me and no one talks about enough.

season five

nothing to add here except while i did miss cam in the final and it wasn’t complete without here, i very much respect her for her choice to walk away. i think it shows a high level of intelligence and integrity (something i wish i had). and i most admire her for passing on the torch when she felt she wasn’t ready, which i think speaks volumes of her and her character. again, selina one selina will always be my favorite so i love the idea of my favorite staying a young girl before she was ready. i don’t think the show was ready. and as much as i would have loved for her to have a cameo like david did, it isn’t here or there and she said she favorite scene was on the staircase. so as far as i’m concerned, that’s the best place to leave on (even though that wasn’t the last scene but we’re ignoring that)

i hope this wasn’t too wordy or long!

[strongerwiththepack]

Fab-Five-Feb: Gordon

Hope you enjoy this Gordon-centric fic as his week comes to a close. Poor Alan didn’t even get a mention in this one after getting the spotlight last week. Thanks again @gumnut-logic for this challenge. I’ve used the prompt ‘no clothes’.

“Tell dad I’m going out for the night.” Gordon said casually to John, who was in the kitchen doing work for school. He was hoping he could get away without John asking any questions. He almost succeeded as John just nodded, heavily engrossed in the book he was reading but as he opened the door to leave John seemed to snap out of it.

“Wait, where are you going?” John gave him a suspicious look.

“Just to the lake with some friends.” Gordon shrugged.

John narrowed his eyes. “Which friends?”

Gordon rolled his eyes. “Do we need to do this again John?”

“Apparently we do.” John said straightening up in his chair. “Those guys are no good for you Gordon.”

“Whatever John, you’re just jealous because they’re not friends with you.”

“They are not your friends Gordon.”

There was the toot of a horn sounding outside.

Gordon gave John a quick wave as he headed out the door. “I’ll be home by 10, okay?”

He didn’t give John the chance to respond before he was running down the driveway.

“Hey Tracy, that your weirdo brother at the window?” Todd Davidson mocked as Gordon clambered into the back of the 4-by-4.

Gordon just gave a half-hearted laugh. He knew these guys didn’t get along with John but he was never going to sit and ridicule his older brother. Although…he also wasn’t at the stage where he was ready to stick his neck out to defend John either.

He really wanted to impress these guys. They were older than him, he’d only just started to get invited along to hang out with them. Todd was a senior, like John, and most of his friends were either also seniors or juniors, Gordon was the only sophomore going tonight. Apparently there was a huge party going on at the lake just 20 minutes out of town.

Gordon had gotten friendly with Todd after the older boy had witnessed a fight Gordon had gotten himself into with another Senior – a Senior that Todd wasn’t too keen on either apparently. Gordon had taken the guy down with no more than a bruised cheek in return. He had three older brothers – he knew how to handle himself in a fight.

Speaking of his brothers, they had all been less than pleased with his behaviour, that’s why when Todd came along singing his praises he’d soaked it up. Scott was just starting his training in the air force and Virgil was away at college so they didn’t have the same influence on him as they used to. His dad had been very distracted lately and was away on business a lot. John had told him his dad had a big project in the works. Gordon hadn’t cared enough to question it further.

As for John, his closest older brother had given him quite the lecture but Gordon brushed it off at the time. John was always warning him about the guys in his year but Gordon was pretty sure John just didn’t know how to have fun. Heck, he’d definitely never seen his older brother go out to a party like this. Even Scott and Virgil had gone to their fair share of parties in their high school days. So when Gordon got invited to one himself, he jumped on the opportunity.

It about 7pm so it was already dark outside. Gordon stared out the window as they reached the lake. They drove round it for about a mile before the car drew to a stop. Gordon looked out at the darkness confused.

“I thought you said this was going to be a party?” Gordon asked looking out on to the silent waterfront. He’d expected a bonfire and loud music and he couldn’t hide his disappointment.

Todd chuckled from the front seat. “Don’t worry Tracy, we’re just leaving the car here and walking round.”

“Oh. Okay.” Gordon mused as he exited the car with the four other guys.

Todd went to the boot and pulled out a pack of beers, handing them out to everyone. He didn’t even hesitate to toss one in Gordon’s direction too.

Seeing Gordons look of unease he snorted “That’s not your first beer, right Tracy?”

“’Course not” Gordon was quick to shoot back, popping open the can. He took a sip and was hard pushed not to gag. Was it suppose to taste like that?

The guys set off down towards the water and Gordon couldn’t help but shiver a bit at the cold. This really wasn’t what he’d been expecting and he was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable.

He piqued back into the conversation as he heard one of the other guys shout at him. “Hey baby Tracy, aren’t you like a champion swimmer or something?”

He bristled a bit at the baby part but replied anyway, trying to sound impressive. “Yeah, coach said I could be on track for the Olympics if I put in the work.”

“Olympics, huh?” Todd grinned. “Give us a show then.” He said pointing towards the water.

Gordon gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Yeah right.” He snorted.

Todd groaned dramatically and put his arm around Gordons shoulder. “Aw come on water baby, don’t be a party pooper.”

Gordon frowned. “You can’t be serious. It’ll be freezing.”

Todd just grinned down at him. “We’ve got towels in the car, just take another swig of the beer and you’ll be good to go. Come on Tracy, I know you aren’t a coward.”

Gordon stared out at the water. He tried to convince himself it would be fine. So what if he got a little cold? The guys would love it. He started to strip off his clothes.

The guys all cheered around him and Gordon felt his confidence return. Might as well put on a good show.

“There you go Tracy, knew you were up for a good time.”

When he was down to just his boxers he turned and gave the guys a mock salute before jumping off the bank and into the water. It was ice cold and the breath was knocked out of him immediately. He heard the guys cheering him on from the bank though so he kicked out and started swimming. He got into a rhythm after that. 1, 2, 3, 4, breathe, 1, 2, 3, 4…

When he figured he’d gone far enough out, he started treading water and looked back to the shore with a grin on his face.

It was silent.

His face dropped and he suddenly felt very alone. It’s fine, he told himself. He’d just gone too far out. He started swimming back, feeling the cold numbing his limbs slightly. When he got back to the bank and still couldn’t hear anything, he started to panic a little.

“Guys?” he called out. “Todd?”

He pulled himself up onto the bank, shivering as a light breeze blew past. He wrapped his arms around himself and noticed with a sinking heart that his clothes were gone as well.

“Very funny guys” he shouted into the darkness. “You can come out now.”

Everything remained perfectly still. Gordon ran back up to the road. The car was gone as well. Shit.

Gordon felt tears prickle at his eyes as he started to panic. He was standing in his boxers, soaking wet on a cold night in October. His phone had been in the pocket of his jeans so he didn’t even have anything to call home with.

His breathing picked up harshly. He was going to die out here. His body already felt stiff and the shivers tore through him harshly. Think Gordon.

John! John knew where he was. He just had to find a way to stay warm until John came to look for him. He sighed as he realised it was probably barely even 8 o’clock and John wasn’t expecting him back until 10. He needed somewhere he could wait until then. He vaguely remembered passing a water sports hut on the way in. That was probably his best option right now.

He walked a solid 30 minutes before he came across the old wooden building. He was pretty sure his feet were bleeding after walking all that way barefoot on the rocky surface but he was too scared to look. And too cold to feel it.

He tried the door but, as suspected, it was locked. He peered through the window looking longingly at the wetsuits hung up on the rack. Oh how he wished he could climb into about 10 of them right now. All layered on top of each other.

He trudged over to the changing cubicles closer to the water. Thankfully they were also made of wood and were not locked. He was relieved as he shut the door behind him. In the small confines of the changing room, without the wind, it was a mild temperature. It was still cold but not the hypothermic level of cold outside had been.

He curled up on the bench and prepared to wait.

*

He must’ve dozed off briefly cause the next thing he woke up to was what sounded like somewhere shouting his name. He bounced to his feet only to grunt as his legs gave out underneath him and black spots appeared in front of his eyes. He kneeled on the ground breathing heavily. He was so tired.

“GORDON!”

He lifted his head as he heard a familiar voice shout his name. He almost cried in relief.

“John!” He shouted, or tried to anyway, it came out more like the pathetic whine of an injured animal.

He pushed open the door to the changing room and half crawled, half stumbled out onto the grass.

“John!” he tried again as he managed to push himself into a standing position.

There was running footsteps in his direction and he tensed slightly until a steadying hand was placed on his shoulder and John’s face filled his vision.

“Geez Gordon, you’re freezing.”

That was all it took and Gordon pushed himself into John’s arm, violent sobs wracking his small frame.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” he cried.

John was startled momentarily but was quick to return his little brothers hug, wrapping his arms around Gordons ice cold skin.

“You’re okay.” He reassured.

John was so warm. Gordons chest was tight as he cried out all the emotions he’d kept in the past few hours. Eventually John stepped back, grabbing one of Gordon’s arms and placing it around his shoulder to help Gordon walk. They limped slowly towards what Gordon hoped was a car. His limbs feeling lethargic and his feet were stinging from his previous walk.

John helped him into the passenger side of the car before rushing around the other side to turn on the heating. John got out again and returned with a thick blanket that he threw over his little brothers shivering form. He finally settled into the drivers seat and started the engine.

John glanced over at his little brother worriedly. “You need to tell me what happened Gordon”

Gordon buried his face in the blanket, feeling tear well up in his eyes again.

“You were right okay?” Gordon said defensively. “I shouldn’t have trusted those guys.”

“Did they hurt you?” John questioned quietly. He had been imagining the worst for the past couple of hours.

“They just left me out in the cold, half-naked and soaking wet.” Gordon grumbled bitterly before whispering. “I thought I was going to die.”

John barely caught that last part but hearing the vulnerability in his usually boisterous little brother made his blood boil.

“I’m going to kill those guys.”

Gordon startled. He’d never heard John sound so angry.

“It’s my fault John, I should have listened to you.”

“I never should have let you go in the first place.” John sighed. “Those guys have caused me so much trouble over the past 4 years.”

“You couldn’t have stopped me John, I’m just glad you still came to find me.” Gordon shuddered when he thought of what could have happened.

“I will always come for you Gordon. Always.” John promised.

Gordon settled back into his seat, finally warming up. He made a mental note to listen to John more in the future. John was always right. Why did none of them ever listen to him?

[sunagitsunee]

Achilles Heel

Hurt / Comfort, Levi Ackerman x Hanji Zoe

POST 115 FIC

ALSO IN AO3

The patterns of the exposed beams of the ceiling were suddenly the most interesting thing in the room.

Levi had been past his major self-loathing stage, one that immediately kicked in after his stupor post the explosion. He’d been through despondency and helplessness after realizing the mishap took out parts of him that were necessary for battle. Denial was there, too, with the fact that he was a diminished version if himself after the accident—that he might not be the strongest one anymore.

What was eating him away was the guilt: survivor’s guilt. Or more so, having to bide his time until he could fully recover just so he could return to the battlefield.

Basically, he had to stay put, bathe in peace, while their allies were dying by the minute. 

To him, it was an indirect murder by his hands, because he failed.

Once more he was unsuccessful in fulfilling his promise to his previous commander, just because he was being uncharacteristically reckless. And to make it worse, his current commander was stuck nursing him back to health instead of watching over the poor kids left to finish what they had started.

It was all fucked up.

No—scratch that. It was beyond fucked up.

Levi had already faced all kinds of defeat ever since his memory had afforded to remember. And he thought losing his mother, his dearest friends, his own squad, and even Erwin, were already the peak of the damnation of his existence. He was clearly mistaken.

Because this time, he had lost a little more than himself, and gained back one thing he had forsaken a long time ago.

Well, he had spent the last decade redeeming himself from the clutches of the underground. Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, that was what everyone called him. He walked and talked the reputation. He devoted himself to his host and to the cause of saving humanity that the supposed burden became his second skin, to the point that his emotions got in the way—so he got rid of it.

As they say, they had to become what they wanted to kill. And he, including several other members of the original Survey Corps, became monsters to eradicate other monsters. Living with the armor of ferociousness for so long made him forget what it was like to feel despair. People had died left and right and tears came out reservedly, away from a mere human being’s gaze. No big deal.

Before the accident that rendered him catatonic for days, he had the impression that he would outlive everyone, so he had no problems of thinking about who would die next. Normally, his soul would be crushed and be forced to move on the next second because everyone counted on him to carry on the will of the dead.

However, the brush with good old death had changed things drastically.

He can die, alone and powerless. The truth was cold and unforgiving. It hit him like a brick wall. And he hated it.

Years and years of bravado and confidence had led up to this point. And the biggest problem was, who will carry on his will and those who died before him once he is gone? Who was strong enough to bear all the weight he carried in his back? All the lives which were sacrificed, if he couldn’t let them live on through someone else, would they have been wasted all for naught?

Who would care to remember him if he was to suddenly disappear, and no one else was around?

That was not even the worst.

The most fucked up thing that ever happened in that incident was being in the brink of oblivion, almost fading out, but then meeting the gaze of someone else that was filled with terror and sadness over the fact that he was, in fact, perishing.

It stung so bad, that it made him cower at the thought of biting the dust just like that.

He had never thought about it before, to be honest. But back then during his last breaths, when he had the sliver of chances to look upon the face of the person who was calling him back to reality: he saw that expression. Anguished was not even enough to describe what he witnessed. Fear, confusion, resolve, despair, longing… hundred more waves broke through his savior’s—Hanji's—facade while they held him gently, while he clung to that warmth as if it was his lifeline.

Which was stupid. Because they aren’t normally like that. They’d laugh and shout but not once did they throw those sentiments at him without holding back. They were strong like him. They’d lost people too, but they stood up and fought on.

So why, why did the glimpse of their face in sorrow made his wounds ache a thousand times more than they should?

Pathetic. Levi had convinced himself over these past few days that it should be the last time that he’d let them go through that. He wouldn’t go out like that. He’d never want to see Hanji’s eyes, the most vibrant pair he’d ever met, be clouded again in his dying moments.

He would have to make do of what’s left of him to push through, no matter how lamentable the outlook seemed.

 “Knock, knock.”

As if on cue, his rumination was disrupted with the voice that retrieved him from the underworld. The door revealed Hanji’s resigned frame, and light steps against the wood followed after as they approached his rigid figure in the tub.

Levi slowly turned his head towards them and took note of their sullenness behind the pretentious but affable smile.

“What? Don’t tell me you wanna take a bath with me?”

“Maybe. But I suck at doing it. You blasting me with water is still the best way to do it.”

Scoff. “It’ll be a different experience since I have less fingers to blast you with.”

He watched how they winced for a split second, probably a knee-jerk reaction after being reminded of his current setbacks. Hanji finally let out a sigh after holding their breath for several seconds before setting by the floor, absentmindedly playing with his bath water by dipping an entire arm.

“I talked with our hosts. The Azumabitos are displeased with how we are doing. Understandably so. But they are willing to hide us until you’re fully on your feet. Thanks to them, I’ve sent a coded message to Mikasa for our current status.”

“Yeah. And are they still all alive?”

“Presumably. Eren was dead for some time, but as expected of shifters, they can transfer consciousness and heal.”

“Fuck those shifters.” Good thing the kids were still kicking, but man, fuck Zeke and his existence. He spearheaded all this fuckery. And he’s still out there thanks to him.

“Our forces have withdrawn for the meantime… They have control over our new recruits, and most of our leaders have been transformed to…titans… I’ve instructed Jean to gather our remaining allies and rummage for whatever is salvageable. I'm—”

Hanji paused and bit their lip before punching the edge of the tub with their other hand, so hard that he felt the tremors from the impact. Levi knew them all too well, they were frustrated, more so with themselves rather than anything else.

“Damn… We’ve lost so much. I was never suited to be this. I’m such a fucking mess. Erwin would have pulled a miracle out of our asses by now. You know that. I’m sure you think the same way.”

NO! Obviously! Erwin was gone, right? And Levi chose it to be that way. He still doesn’t regret the choice of letting him rest, keeping him safe from this abhorrent world. Except that seeing Hanji at the end of their wits was every bit of torturous for him, too. But still…

“You said it before, Hanji. Outcomes aren’t determined by a single choice. Don’t take all the blame.”

Another fist hit the keg. “But I am at fault. I failed to draw a good gamble, and I got you injured by a flaw in the weapon that I made. I’m… I’m sorry, Levi. I’m not even sure if that amounts to anything anymore….”

Jeez.

Hanji was at it again. His guilt was already a thing, but theirs were like a second punch in the gut. They needed to be coherent as soon as possible for all their sakes, and Levi was one of the handful who could knock some sense into them.

“That’s the fiftieth goddamn apology you’ve managed to spew, and as far as I know, you aren’t supposed to be a deprecatory ass.” He spoke a little louder, making sure to emphasize every word. “Maybe if you stopped gambling and living in Erwin’s shadow and be precise like you used to be, those words would actually bear something.”

They went silent for a while, with only the drops from the faucet accentuating the stillness. Hanji was crouched away from his sight, probably pondering on their shortcomings, wallowing on the hurt from his statements, or perhaps repeating his harsh preaching like a mantra until they were consequential.

In the first place, they were the only person who could read between the lines no matter what foul words he spat out.

What he meant, anyway: Hanji had always been the better person, and if there was anyone who could get their stride back, it was them. They just had to get out of their slump, and they need to be back to their usual self. That he trusted them, and that he would do anything for them.

His speech seemed fruitful, much to his relief. When they straightened up, there were less shadows on their face, albeit the weeks of sleep deprivation and stress made the frown lines seem permanent.

Hanji tapped the surface of the water, purposefully splashing on his body, and some, hitting his face.

“Asshole,” they said. Levi kicked lightly and the ripples overflowed until they got into their clothes, too. He got a stifled gasp as a response.

“That’s the shitty glasses that I know.”

They chuckled but stopped abruptly to move closer until their faces were the same level. Their chin rested against the tub and their fingers hovered on the new scar that adorned his visage.

Caressing without touching, that is. For some reason it relaxed Levi; it was as if they were accepting his impairments instead of intruding upon him. It was their usual dynamic, one that went off-track when the war had started.

A thorn got dislodged from his heart knowing their thing was finally back.

“I’m sorry, Levi. Just this once, I say not as your commander. I truly am sorry.”

He shifted fully to his side so their good eyes could meet. There was something thick building up in his throat; he could have ignored it but decided against it. If he didn’t say it on the spot, he may never have the chance to do so.

“Thank you. And this is personal. You could’ve left me there. A dead man served no purpose to your goals, but you ended up putting your life on the line as well. You’re that dumb, but you saved me. I owe you. Everything.”

Hanji smiled and let their touch graze his jaw, right where the gash ended.

“I will admit, I was being selfish in that one. I could have let you rest, but I was scared. I… couldn’t let you go in the end.”

His chest drummed at their words and how they rolled off from their tongue.

“Scared, huh.“

He was, as well. Openly. For the first time. And if the situations were reversed, he’d risk his life to save them, too. Maybe the fear of losing them was a big part of his weakness now, but it’s a weakness he’d have to live with moving forward. "Maybe we are humans after all…”

“Yeah, you monster… I… just realized I needed you. Only humans do that kind of thing, I guess…?”

Needed. By the way the russet in their eye glinted, he knew they meant it in every sense of the word, and he too, felt the same way. More than they could both comprehend. More than the bonds of the dying breed that they share.

It was needing in a much, much, intimate level. And it took that recent trip to demise to bring those feelings bursting to the surface.

Levi’s hand met theirs, and he immediately appreciated the familiar warmth in contrast with the cold water. He held it down by his neck and rested against their palm. Hanji lightly squeezed on his skin.

“Hey… Don’t die alone, Levi. Don’t die before me. Get our freedom in my stead if I go. Promise me.”

He could feel their breath grazing in his face, and it nearly wanted him to breach the small distance that kept them apart and catch their lips. But no, this was not the time for it. It was unfair. War had no space for such ties.

He decided he would do it when they’re finally free, only then, since they deserved the whole of him. They’d start a new life together, that was his new resolve.

Instead, Levi smiled and brought his handicapped grip to nestle on their cheek.

“Don’t be stupid. If you go down, I go down. If you live, I live. So do your damned best to survive, and I would keep at it too. That’s what I can promise.”

Hanji turned their head to press their lips longingly to his palm before speaking.

“Of course… that seems fair to me.”

[a-tragedy-told-in-metals]

A Tragedy Told In Metals: Copper & Arsenic

Chapter: 1 link AO3

Playlist (Youtube) Playlist (Spotify) Songs 1-3 apply to this chapter

CW: chronic illness, mild injuries, past abuse

[I’m just jumping to posting in real-time w/ my AO3]

Toni drummed her fingers on her desk watching the chemical formulas for different filaments swirling in front of her eyes. And then what she was almost positive would happen, happened: a red marker reading “failure” blinked in front of her. She dropped her sweaty head on the cool surface of her desk.

“We can keep trying,” JARVIS said.

“Yeah,” Toni muttered.

The formulas, graphs and test results continued to mock her from the screen and Toni sighed. She felt tired but grabbed the stupid chlorophyll shake and downed it. The disgusting drinks were meant to slow the poison. She was going through the motions,  pretending this wasn’t as bad as it was. Just pushing through, she wasn’t dying, absolutely not. Except she was and had been since, well, probably since forever, but this particular threat had started the day she survived. It was horribly ironic that the stupid glowing light in her chest, which had saved her life, was now slowly killing her.

That level of irony was honestly funny but she was laughed out. Now it just left a bitter taste in her mouth along with the smoothie. Toni ran her hands along the hardened veins on her chest. The brittle feeling made her feel slightly ill, but that might just be part of the constant nausea she was going through.

Toni was really only going through the motions now. She had already finished writing her will The money was split four ways between charity, Rhodey, Happy and Pepper. Stark Industries went to Pepper. Rhodey got the suits, JARVIS’s mainframe and the Bots. Happy had his choice of cars. Properties, expensive stuff she had and shares of SI would just be split between her friends. Rhodey’s family also got some shares of the company to set them up past the cash Rhodey had.

Toni had it all planned out, it wasn’t guess work. The business had to go to Pepper, she was the only one Toni trusted to not turn Stark Industries back into a weapons company. Rhodey was the only person she would trust in a million years to take care of the Bots and JARVIS with the love they deserve, and, well, he did get the suits; he was the only one who could figure out how to use them if necessary.

“Toni!” Pepper said walking into the lab, her high heels clipping along the floor.

“Yes, Pep?” Toni re-buttoned the top button on her shirt before she spun to face Pepper.

“You returned these forms to me.” Pepper brought up a form on her Stark pad.

“Yeah I did, my signature is there and everything,” Toni replied pointing at the screen

“You signed this page, and the last one but there were a bunch of signature lines between them.”

“Oh,” Toni said with a sigh.

“This is like the fifth time you've done something like this. All of your work is like you’re trying to do it in your sleep.”

“I’m really not Pepper I’m just, ya know, tired. I’ve been busy with SI, and the Iron Queen and just like sleeping and life things.”

Peppers deep suck of breath at the words ‘Iron Queen’ did not go missed by Toni who directed her eyes away from the other woman.

“Well, you can’t leave me to do everything just because you want to fly around in your metal toys. It’s your company and half-done work, late reports,  and missed meetings just aren’t fair to everyone else.”

“They aren’t toys. None of this is a game!” Toni shot back.

“Nor is your company! At least not to me, you’re the CEO and no one else is here to do your work for you anymore.”

Toni ground her teeth together as an image of the men who had run the company before filled her mind for a moment. She breathed out, steadying the immediate way her hands shook just thinking about them.

“I know that, okay? I do.”

Pepper sat heavily into the couch and looked to the side, her fingers resting on her lips. She shook her head softly, ��I know you’ve been through a lot lately and all. But I’m being the CEO right now.”

A switched flipped into Toni’s head. Why not make Pepper CEO? It was her plan after she died anyway.  Toni looked up, “Why aren’t you?”

“What?”

Toni stood up, she grabbed a long piece of scrap metal from her table.

“Ta’ da you’re the new Stark Industries CEO” Toni mimed knighting her.

“Haha, this is important Toni,” Pepper said sliding the scrap from her shoulder.

“I thought we established we weren’t joking tonight.”

“Are you serious?”

“Deathly.”

“Well umm, I think we should have the actual paperwork done up.”

“Sure, yeah, we can do that.” Toni nodded.

“Toni,” Pepper said in that “I’m about to say or ask you something you don’t want to answer” tone of voice.

“Yeah?” Toni replied exhausted

“I’m still going to need you to do some work though. You still own Stark Industries, and I assume you will want to continue working on product development.”

“Yeah, I know that. But now you don’t have to do two jobs anymore. You’re the only person I would ever trust with SI anyway. You’re better for the job anyway; you have the degree, the attention span and people skills.”

“Thanks, Toni. Can you still sign this though?” Pepper pointed to the tablet on the table.

“Sure, right.”

~~~~~

Toni was laying on her couch with ice on her knee, shoulder and head all at once. A particularly bad day of “Iron-Queening” had left her feeling really banged up. Everything hurt, but Toni almost didn’t mind. She was used to being in pain and destroying the Stark weapons cache was something worth getting hurt for anyway. Plus, she actually remembered how she got these injuries, which was cool.

“Ms. Toni, Ms. Potts  and an unknown woman are at the door.”

“She armed or suspicious or anything?” Toni said sitting up slowly.

“Not on first scan.”

“Alright let them in.”

Toni sat all the way up and kicked an empty beer bottle under the couch and blinked till her vision cleared up. Pepper was trailed by a woman around her age with bright red hair and light skin.

“Toni, how are you?” Pepper asked.

“Peachy, all these ice packs are for fun!” Toni snarked.

Pepper sighed and rolled her eyes, “JARVIS and the legal department drew up the papers to change Stark industry’s CEO.”

“That's good, but who is she?” Toni pointed to the new lady.

“This is Natalie Rushman. She is going to be your new PA.”

“You're CEO shouldn’t you have one?”

“Oh I will I’m still looking for one suitable. I think you need one or you will never get anything done on time.”

“Hey, JARVIS reminds me of stuff.”

“JARVIS is soft on you.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Yes he is. He's almost as bad as Rhodey.”

Toni sighed.

Natalie walked forward and tried to hand Toni what she assumed were the papers from the legal team. But even if she rationally knew what it was she still flinched back.

“I don’t like being handed things.” Toni explained, “Can you put it on the table?”

“Oh. Yes ma'am,” Natalie said placing it down.

“Oh yuck, just call me Toni. We’re like the same age.” Toni leaned forward and signed the papers, and smiled at Pepper. “Now you're the boss.”

“I’m the boss?” She said returning Toni’s smile, which much to Toni’s annoyance made her stomach swoop. Apparently, that crush she had was not going away and it was really frustrating.

“Yup. Can you stay for dinner?”

“What are you ordering?”

“Actually I’m trying to learn to cook. So I'll make some Pasta. Apparently, cooking is a good skill to reintegrate into life, connecting with the body something, something.” Toni waved her hand as she walked stiffly into the kitchen.

“JARVIS better make sure you don’t burn the water,” Pepper said

Toni shook her head. It was quick work to make spaghetti, not something hard to do. Having Pepper with her made it more enjoyable, though. While Toni was working on making the pasta, she watched Natalie from the corner of her eyes. Something was off with her. Even with a permanently distracted state of mind, Toni could clock signs of Natalie not being what she seemed.

She was really stiff, unnaturally, so. Most people would be really fidgety when in a new place. She didn’t look uncomfortable, per se, and she wasn't so comfortable that it seemed like she had no emotions at all. Natalie just seemed...chill. Toni decided to test Natalie. Was it nice? Probably not, but she needed to figure out what was going on.

“So, Natalie, where are you from?” Toni asked.

“Ashland Oregon.”

“I’ve only been to Portland. Do you have any siblings?”

“No, I’m an only child like you. I’m not really close to my family.”

“That sucks. But friends are so much better than family, if your family’s shit.”

“I just moved here so I’m not close with anyone yet.”

“Well this is kind of a crazy place to meet people but the parties are still really fun.”

“Ah, partying hasn’t been my thing recently.”

“Recently? So was there a time it was?”

“Well, I had a bit of wild stage in high school and college. But I got my head back on straight at the end of college. I had to make sure to get good enough grades in class to get a job like this. ”

“What was your poison of choice?”

“Rum, weed the usual stuff”

Toni traced her eyes over Natalie, there hadn’t been enough pause, hadn’t been enough shame. She did smile, though, and lean into the table. Gave Toni a bright smile. It was charming, and she was for sure hot, but Toni knew fake people, had lived with them.

After eating Toni sucked in a large breath. It was time to enact the next part of her plan.

“Hey, can I show you something in the lab?” Toni asked.

“Sure. Visiting the lab is always a mix of cool and a disaster” Pepper said, turning to Natalie who shrugged and slid off the chair.

Down in the lab, Toni sat in her chair glanced behind her. Both women were watching her expectantly. Toni clicked on the keyboard and the design for her next Stark Pad came up.

“In between my Iron Queen life and having to go to your meetings I actually finished this design.” Pepper walked forward and slid through the specs on the screen. While Pepper was looking away, Toni kicked her foot under the table and caused a pile of stacked up raw material and tools crash to the ground. Pepper jumped and yelped like any normal person should. Toni watched Natalie closely as the redhead also quietly jumped, and then quickly assumed a fighting stance. Natalie’s eyes snapped around the whole room, not to the site of the crash.  Yeah, she wasn’t someone ex-party girl PA.

Great, someone was in her house who was lying to her about, well, maybe about everything. Why did people keep making her life so fucking complicated?

[alleiradayne]

Unconventional A J2 x Reader RPF Series

After a rousing evening of Friday Night Karaoke at the Supernatural convention, you’re tired and about to go to bed. But then a distinctly familiar laugh echoes through the hallway outside your hotel room door, and sleep is the last thing on your mind.

Part IV - Traditional

Summary: Saturday Night Special and afterparty Warnings/Tags: Floofs Characters/Pairings: Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles, Female Reader, Briana Buckmaster, Kim Rhods, Rob Benedict, Mike Borja, Steve Norton, Rich Speight, Jr., Ruthie Connell, and Matt Cohen  Word Count: 1,567 A/N: For the love of everything good in this world, assume everyone involved is single or polyamorous. No. Wife. Hate. Allowed. This series as a whole will fulfill my Polyamory square for @spnkinkbingo but not until closer to the end. Beta’d by @atc74 because she’s awesome and managed to read this hella long buncha nonsense.

Hope. An eager sort of anxious anticipation shuddered in your fingers as you gripped the barricade railing. The hall buzzed with an energy so palpable, the fine hair on the backs of your arms stood on end. Fellow fans pressed in all around, their own little space of floor carved out for their spot amidst the tiny sea of bodies. As the house lights dimmed, the stage lights illuminated in their vast array of colors and shapes, and a crescendo of hundreds of voices filled the hall. Louden Swain took the stage as they always did and kicked off their set with Present Time.

They played favorite tunes and lesser known tracks, as well as their covers with other actors. Briana belted out a tune that showcased her vocals with her classic aplomb. Kim rocked the house, as usual. Matt, of course, couldn’t stand in a single spot his entire song. Ruthie in all her five-foot-three glory, danced as beautifully as she sang. And then there was Richard. Oh, Richard. With his big acoustic guitar and that gorgeous Tennessee twang, he could melt a heart with just one note.

You did your best to live in the moment, but with each song, that fervent expectation of what came next crawled up your spine and settled at the base of your neck. Part of it, you thought, had to do with your proximity to the stage—within arms’ reach of Rob and the rest. But the other part, the larger part, kept you on your toes the entire evening.

“We have a very special guest singing a couple songs with us tonight,” Rob started.

Your hope, it seemed, was about to pay off.

Rich leaned into his microphone and spoke. “Oh, we’re gonna let him out of his cage?”

“Something like that,” Rob replied. “Please welcome to the stage, the one, the only, Jensen Ackles.”

Louden Swain always earned a tidal wave of applause when they performed. But the roar, the deafening wall of sound that exploded from behind you put that to shame. Jensen crept out from behind a curtain on the stage, with his leather jacket and wide-brimmed hat, his perfectly tight jeans and shit-kickin’ boots.

“Thanks,” he mumbled into the mic. “Ready?”

Another burst of sound from the crowd blocked out the first set of elevens of Whipping Post. But when the cheers faded, that unique rhythm caught your hips in its steady rock beat, swayed from side to side. And Jensen’s baritone drowned out any other sound you might have heard, for his voice was the stuff of gods. He thumbed a boot in time with that smooth set of elevens—bless Gregg Allman for gracing the rock world with the 11/4 time signature—and damn it all to hell if you didn’t ogle Jensen’s bow legs.

S.O.B. followed, hot on the heels of Whipping Post. Those words in Jensen’s growl left you wanting more, bolstering your hope again for more of it later that evening. Amidst that hope, the whirlwind of music passed in such a rapid blur that Rob had cued the closer before you noticed. But with a quick sweep of the crowd, Jensen found you front and center, and as discreetly as possible, pointed stage right and mouthed, “Go, now.”

Through the throng you shouldered past your fellow fans, your space filled as soon as you vacated. To your left you pushed, side-steps bearing you slowly to the far end of the platform until you broke free of the mass of crowded bodies. There a Creation staff member stood and as you approached, smiled and asked for you name. When you gave it, she asked for an ID, and, after you flipped open your wallet, ushered you around the corner to the hallway behind the riser.

“I’m Sara,” she started as she held out her hand. When you took it, she said, “How long have you known Jensen?” she asked over her shoulder.

A quick lie took shape and you shrugged as you said, “Several years, now. Damn near a decade, actually.”

Face unreadable, Sara simply smiled as she led you around a corner. “Here we are,” she started as she unlocked a door and pushed it aside. “Welcome to the green room.”

She held the door aside as you stepped over the threshold. Though empty, the signs of life lay scattered about the room. Bottles of water at various levels of consumption littered every surface, as well as plastic cups, some empty, some containing hints of liquor. On the far wall, a table stood laden with beverages, liquor, beer, soda, and water, and a melting bucket of ice perspired on the end beside the cups.

“Folks will be back in a bit. Get comfy, help yourself to a drink.” She pointed at the table on the far side of the room laden with options. “Have fun!” she added with a bright smile as she slipped back through the door, a soft click following her.

What then? A drink? Maybe one or two would calm the creeping sensation beneath your skin. You headed for the table and snatched a cup from the stack, dropped in a single ice cube, and poured over it a generous amount of whiskey. The first sip warmed your tongue, slid down your throat, and settled in your belly as the door to the room burst open. You turned to find Rob leading his bandmates into the room, followed by the cast that had sang that night. Briana and Kim chatted excitedly while Matt and Ruthie continued singing the closer. Rich brought up the rear, face buried in his phone until Rob spoke.

“Hey,” he started as he crossed the room. “You’re Y/N?” he asked.

“I am,” you replied as you held out your hand, “I guess Jensen warned you?”

A bewildered shake of his head preceded Rob’s curious smile as he looked over his shoulder. Briana held back a laugh when Kim raised a brow at her. When Rob checked in with the others, they all shrugged. He turned back to you and said, “No, Sara only mentioned a gal with a backstage pass, although I didn’t know we did that here. So, you know Jensen?”

Your casual lie faltered, far too thin to work on Jensen’s actual friends. “Not… really.”

“Jared, then?” he continued as he reached for a bottle of water.

You struggled to find a response to that after memories of the previous night flooded your mind. “Yeah, we’re sort of acquaintances,” you said with a shrug.

“Oh, cool, for how long?” Rob continued.

“About…” you paused as you checked your phone, “36 hours.”

He laughed through his water, nearly spitting it out. “Are you—”

The door opened once more, and Jensen stepped through with Jared in tow. “Oh, awesome, they’re already picking on her,” he said over his shoulder. “Give it a rest, Rob.”

“What?!” Rob shrieked, “I wasn’t doing anything!”

“Uh huh, sure,” Jensen retorted as he neared you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. “Alright, only time we’re gonna do this. This is Y/N, she’s a friend of ours. Cool?”

The others shrugged their agreement, and without another word, the afterparty started.

Long conversations led to stories about longer friendships, and as the minutes ticked by, the group eased in around you. They each took their time to talk with you, learning a little bit about you and eager to regale you with their favorite moments as a part of the family. Most common of all, though, was that each one of them shared a memory of Jared and Jensen being their incredibly kind and giving selves. And it was during those stories that you realized how damn lucky you were.

An hour had slipped by as you finished your drink, and Jensen took a queue from Jared. He stood from his chair and headed for the table, grabbing three bottles of water, and returned to the group as he spoke. “We’re off.”

“Boooo.” Rob’s hands cupped around his mouth and amplified his voice. Jared, much to your delight, flipped his middle finger at him for a laugh.

When you stood and followed Jensen to the door, Jared fell in behind you. The conversation picked back up and you thought yourself clear of any further teasing as you stepped over the threshold. That was until a catcall of a whistle pierced the din of the room. Jared did his best to push you onward, but as you turned over your shoulder, you caught a glimpse of Briana winking and Kim’s two thumbs up.

The door closed with a click and Jensen pressed into at your side. “I'm beat. What about you?”

“Exhausted,” you said. “Probably gonna pass out when I get back to my room.”

Jared's giggle from behind you drew your attention over your shoulder. His wicked grin and wandering eyes betrayed his indifferent shrug. His hands grasped your shoulders as he leaned into your ear and whispered, “I think Jen has other plans for the two of you.”

As you rounded the corner, Jensen slipped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer. You wanted to say something, anything, but dumbfounded excitement seized your tongue as you approached Clif at the end of the hallway.

“Hotel?”

Jensen nodded as he looked to you with a wicked grin. “Yeah. We're exhausted. Right, Y/N?”

“Yeah… exhausted.”

Reblogs and feedback are awesome. If you want in on the tags, send me an ask or a DM!

UNCONVENTIONAL MASTER LIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN KINK BINGO MASTER LIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN MASTER LIST

The Whole Thang:

@atc74  @hannahindie @bevans87  @meganwinchester1999  @plaided-ani-on-hiatus  @oneshoeshort @jonogueira @andkatiethings @elfinmox@wonderfulworldofwinchester @princessofthefandomrealm  @just-another-busyfangirl @jmekitchens @81mysteriouslyme @dolphincliffs  @seenashwrite  @canadianspnhunter  @meowmeow-motherfucker @depressed-moose-78 @staycejo1 @hobby27  @pretty-fortune @mypopculturediva @fanfictionjunkie1112 @sandlee44 @4llmywr1tings @claitynroberts @maddiepants @scarletluvscas @donnaintx @blackeyedangel9805 @rainflowermoon @winchesterprincessbride  @lazinessisalliknow  @the-is13 @waywardafgrandma @keymology

Dean’s Dames (Jensen):

@supernatural-jackles @jerkbitchidjitassbutt

Unconventional:

@wayward-and-worn @evansrogerskitten @squirrelnotsam @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @pink1031  @kutie-stans @aomi-nabi @wilde-abandon @samwichesterssexyface @heavensheadbitch @amandamdiehl @thatonecurlygirl

[onwardintolight]

Han x Leia, ESB, Trip to Bespin, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Summary: ESB from Leia's POV. A journey from despair to hope, a blossoming, an opening to vulnerability and love.

Warnings: Deals with some heavy themes, incl. working through trauma, depression, self-harm, attempted sexual assault. Each chapter will be individually warned.

Note: I’m currently in the process of reposting the first nine chapters here in full, since when I first wrote this fic, I only shared links to the chapters on AO3 and FFN. I will try to post at least weekly. In the meantime, if you’d prefer to binge-read it, the entire fic is posted in full on AO3 and FFN.

Part: Masterlist | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | Epilogue

Soundtrack

~~~

Author’s note 10/2019: Today would have been Carrie Fisher's 63rd birthday, so this chapter (and honestly, this entire fic) is dedicated to her. Happy birthday, space mom. We miss you so much <3

Major spoilers towards the end of this chapter for Leia: Princess of Alderaan by Claudia Gray. If you want to avoid them, skip down to the 5th paragraph from the bottom as soon as you read the name "Kier Domadi."

Warnings for Chapter 12: none

~~~

Music had quickly become a prominent feature of their daily lives on the Falcon. There was scarcely an afternoon or evening when they didn’t enjoy it. It accompanied everyone as they laughed around the dejarik table over a meal or a game, or as they continued to apply themselves towards improving the Falcon’s condition. It accompanied Han and Leia as they ducked into various holds to steal kisses, or as they lay in the crew quarters in each other’s arms, talking about everything and nothing, piecing together more of each other’s pasts little by little.

Tonight, Chewbacca had receded to the number three hold for some time alone—«away from human hormones,» he’d announced—and Threepio was still powered down over by the engineering station. Leia curled up comfortably against Han as they sat at the dejarik table, cups of cider spiked with Corellian ale in front of them. “Not too much,” she had requested as Han had mixed it up. Now more than ever she felt the danger—and the temptation—of taking leave of her inhibitions that way. A little wouldn’t hurt, though. She took another small sip. It was delicious.

Tonight’s music selection was the Alderaanian dance group, Heartbeat of Istabith, with its soaring melodies and driving rhythms. As soon as it began playing, she wondered if choosing it had been a mistake. Already the nostalgia was looming, threatening to turn mournful something that was once full of joy. Why did the horror of what had happened so often eclipse the good that had been? She wished she could find a way to embrace the latter without the former forever intruding.

She closed her eyes, feeling the contours of the music, drumming her fingers to the beat. “I used to dance, you know,” she murmured. “I originally started lessons because my father liked to, and I wanted to be like him.” She chuckled. “But by the end… it was all my own.”

She opened her eyes, and Han was staring back at her, interested. She took a deep breath. “I eventually set it aside, of course, in favor of martial arts training and my senatorial ambitions. That, and other things. Dancing, theater, riding thrantas—those aren’t particularly helpful pursuits for a Rebellion.”


“You miss it?” Han asked.

She closed her eyes again. She remembered the studio where she’d once learned, with the musty aroma of the pleekwood floors. She remembered the bright lights, the excitement of the stage. She remembered the thrill of mastery, of performance and competition, and the satisfying synchronicity of good partnering. But most of all, she remembered the joy. She remembered the way it felt like touching light, like embracing the entire galaxy, her soul being set free.

The beat continued to thrum through her veins; a relentless lament, a challenge.

“Yes,” she said simply. “I miss it a lot.”

Han shifted away from her. She looked up. He was standing, holding out his hand in invitation.

Her brows knit. “You dance too?”

“I’ve picked up a few things.” That silly, cocky smirk was once again creeping up the corners of his mouth. “C’mon, I dare you. Think you can remember how?”

The music ground out a tantalizing beat, and she grinned devilishly. “You’re on, hotshot.” Taking his hand, she followed him to the middle of the floor.

Han immediately pulled her close, his hands finding their proper place; one at the small of her back and one in her own. She led the way into a basic Galactic quarterstep, one that she was fairly certain he’d know. She’d danced it at half a million Imperial balls; it was popular, if rather languid and simple.

To her surprise, he didn’t miss a beat. Though not perfect, he was surprisingly proficient, his movements smooth and relaxed. He sent her into a few twirls and then stopped, smirking down at her. “That one’s boring. I got a better idea.”

Pulling her even closer, he began a series of intricate steps. Her feet followed along, almost without thinking, and she gasped. This was an Alderaanian tango. “How… where…?”

He only grinned in response, and then they were off, moving together in sync, bodies twisting to the beat, spinning and writhing and twirling. He led her, then she led him, then back and forth again, each silently challenging the other with steps that could have easily led to them falling in a tangled mess on the floor (which on second thought might not be half bad, Leia thought).

“Stop gaping,” Han said, smiling. He stumbled slightly but recovered.

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up and dance, flyboy.” His smile growing even wider, he twirled her again and sent her into a dip, leaning down to kiss her in the process. She came back up breathless and nearly stumbled herself before he pulled her into another set of slides across the floor. Regaining control, she hooked her leg around his and led him in a series of enganches.

This… this was so different than the partnering she’d done in the past. There was a fierce intensity, a scintillating electricity to their bodies moving together that she’d never experienced while dancing before. It felt like second nature, almost, the way they found their rhythm, gliding and undulating to the music as one, anticipating and leaning into one another’s movements with surprising ease. But even more intoxicating was the passion that leapt from Han’s face (still bearing a trace of that obnoxious smirk—Force, why did that always make her want to kiss it off him?), and the focused intensity with which he matched her. Leia felt the room growing warm. She was increasingly conscious of the steadily narrowing gap between them, the heat rising off his limbs, their ragged breaths. The relentless rhythm drove them steadily onwards. The air was on fire.

Her chin was nearly against his chest when the song ended. For just one moment, they stood in each other’s arms, eyes locked, lips parted in surprise. Then suddenly, as if in unspoken agreement, they moved as one, closing the gap. Han’s lips felt hot on hers as he hoisted her up to his level. She hooked her legs around his hips, threaded one hand through his soft, gloriously scruffy hair, and leaned into him, finding a new rhythm as her lips moved against his. She felt the brush of his tongue on hers, and she let him in. She could barely breathe or think of anything at all except how much she wanted more of him.

More.

He took a few steps forward, and the cool surface of the bulkhead against her back broke through the sizzle of their heat as he pushed her against it. She let out a small moan, and renewed the intensity of her kiss. She cradled one lip, then the other with her own, savoring the taste. The low sound that rose from Han to meet her in response sent shivers down her spine.

More.

His hands, freer now that the wall helped hold her weight, stroked her hips, ventured along her thighs, cradled her from behind. She thrust one hand inside his collar, stroking his chest, his neck, his shoulders; exploring skin she’d never yet touched. She felt him reach up underneath her shirt, his fingers tracing up her back.

More.

…Wait.

No.

She turned her head abruptly, breaking off the kiss. “I… I can’t….” Wildly she turned her eyes back to his. Their chests were heaving. The air felt dense; her head spun. But Han’s face, while hungry, was understanding. He nodded. Gently he eased the pressure off her and set her back down on her feet. Reaching out, he caressed her cheek. His hand trembled.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Only as far as you want.” Then, letting out a long breath, he turned and sank to the floor beside her. She followed suit.

The next song had begun, its syncopated beat a little slower and calmer than the first. They sat in silence for several minutes, heartbeats slowly winding down, skin growing clammy as the heat dissipated.

“Where the hell did you learn to dance like that?” said Leia when she finally recovered her voice.

Han chuckled, leaning his head back against the cool bulkhead. “Long story. Involves Lando, actually, and some questionably legal ventures in high society. He hooked me up with some private lessons.”

“In Alderaanian tango?”

“Yeah, that and several more of the highfalutin ones. Had to know enough to be convincing.”

She shook her head, smiling. “You never stop surprising me, flyboy.”

They were quiet, for a moment, listening to the music. A feminine-sounding singer was crooning a sultry love song. Not helping, she thought.

Han wiped the sweat off his brow with his sleeve. “Where the hell’d you learn to kiss like that?” he asked, looking over at her and grinning.

She smiled, then contemplated her hands for a moment thoughtfully. “Kier Domadi. Fellow junior senator. We were together for awhile after I turned sixteen.”

“Oh.” A cloud passed over Han’s face. “That was… I meant… more of a rhetorical question. I didn’t know there was someone else—”

Leia rolled her eyes. “Of course there was someone else, Han. Being a princess doesn’t mean I lived under a rock.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like him,” he mumbled.

“Oh, shut it, there’s no reason to be jealous. We were young, and it went nowhere. He… he wasn’t on board with the Rebellion. And besides…” she paused, growing more solemn, “he’s dead now.” She felt that tiny little ache that still occasionally arose when she thought of Kier, his near-betrayal, and his death. It was much smaller now than it used to be. But she would never forget how that loss had affected her. She had vowed, then, never to fall in love again, not until the war was won.

These days, she wouldn’t even call what she’d had with Kier love, not really. Not now that she had something more mature to compare it with. But still, his loss had gutted her so deeply—the first major loss, other than her birth parents, that she had known. She couldn’t bear to imagine how much worse losing Han would be.

Han glanced up at her, his eyes speaking a silent apology, and he took her hand in his. Leia curled her fingers around it, cementing their connection, the faint electric tingle of his touch calming her fears for the moment. She shut her eyes, leaning back. The whirling, raging ball of desire inside was nearly tamed once more.

Tamed—but never quite trapped.

When they had kissed earlier, she hadn’t wanted to stop. Soaring through new milestones had been unexpectedly easy; it felt so good, and they’d felt so right together, that she’d hardly had time or the presence of mind to realize what they were doing. Part of her still desperately longed to tell him it’s okay, let’s keep going, I don’t care. To hell with the consequences.

But she knew consequences, and she did care. Despite the pull of her heart and body, her mind was still confident in its decision, and for now, at least, it was the most stubborn of the three. If you give in, she told herself, you will regret it forever. If you go all the way with him, there’s no coming back.

Because one thing was certain: she would lose him, just like she’d lost everyone else, and she had a sickening feeling that if she let herself get too far in over her head, she just might lose herself, too.

[darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts]

Echo pt2

@kthomas325

Warning: This is a little dark. There is blood, death, Strong Language and yeah ... please read with caution. **Still not sure what direction this is taking so I should add a warning for Author with no plot **

Masterlist

---

Echo part 2

The castle was always active at the start of a new day but it seemed to be particularly lively right now. Servants darted from chambers and rooms fetching and carrying as orders were barked at them from the 9 siblings and their Mother.

Today was the audience with the crown. Dignitaries, as well as members of the general populace, were gathering to seek out solutions to issues from the highest authority in the land. This was part of being a ruling power here but it did seem that the Queen and her offspring took matters a little too far in the direction of dramatic flair.

Main gates were temporarily closed allowing the castle to be set up for the expected crowds that were already milling around outside the castle walls in the streets below. Fresh flowers arrangements were placed on the white stone staircase that lead up the incline to the castle proper. Rooms around the lower level were also locked and sectioned off so that no one could venture further into the building without proper clearance. Light flooded the corridors providing a kind of natural carpet effect on the floor and the Throne room was pristine in all its grandeur.  

Twelve thrones set in a crescent moon shape were at the very top of the chamber. The white stone of the building gleamed thanks in large part to the massive lead lined windows that stood majestically behind the thrones. The light from the twin suns reflected through the multiple diamond shapes casting shimmering shards of incandescent light into the room. There was no doubt it was a room designed for ultimate effect and the Queen knew how to use that to her advantage.

After the hoard of visitors had settled into place and taken position in their queue, the large doors at the side of the Throne room opened and the siblings entered in pair formation. Each was elegantly dressed and shone like a priceless gemstone. In the shadow of one of the large supporting columns of the room a thin razor-sharp smile spread over one man’s lips as he watched the “performance”. It was the only word that could be used for this. The Queen viewed this land as her stage and everyone in it, including her offspring, as mere players on it.

Drones. The thought passed through his mind easily as he watched the royal formation move. Every hair on their head, every accessory, every piece of clothing had been chosen for them by the Queen. Their movements were trained, their words were not even their own as much as they would protest against it the truth was simple.

The eldest child entered with his mother on his arm. The Queen standing straight and tall her age masked easily by the glamour she held. Her flowing blonde hair cascaded down her back and her form-fitted dress moved like ocean waves as she glided towards her seat. The empty chair to either side of her stood as markers to a tale that had slipped into the history books. Beautifully crafted Pawns. I applaud you, dear Queen, you did well. As if she could hear his thoughts her eyes settled on his. Those piercing cold blue eyes that could cut like ice would freeze a lesser man, but not him. He simply stood and maintained his gaze the smile on his face almost mocking.

---

“You took on a case without clearing it with me first?”

The door to her chief coordinator's office barely closed before they rounded on her.

“I’ve told you many times already I cannot always clear these things with you two or three weeks in advance.” She sat straight in the guest chair unflinching as the older man who was like a father to her in a lot of ways sighed and slumped his shoulders.

“That is not the point Kid and you know it. You have just moved and the case is out of your jurisdiction.” He pinched the bridge of his nose where his glasses usually sat. Probably thinking that this choice to wear his contacts today was maybe not the best plan given that headaches made the lenses uncomfortable.

“Most cases are out of my jurisdiction. It has never stopped you from letting me take them on before.” If it had been someone else, she would have been just as indignant as she protested the restriction on her work.

There was nothing except basic formalities that required her attention right now. All Ops had been grounded and placed on downtime which provided her with more than enough time to sit around twiddling her thumbs and being bored. Last time this happened she took on a case that saw her flying to Africa to check a water source for a rare bacterium that should not have been present in freshwater. That wasn’t just out of her jurisdiction it was out of the same god damn continent. She couldn’t understand why her boss was choosing now to be an obstruction on a case.

“Look pick a case any other case. Just not this one.” The sound of his begging pathetically was a far cry from the man she knew. She leaned back in her chair and levelled a defiant glare at him.

“Col you are being unbelievably stubborn and pushy on this which isn’t like you at all. I’m not going to do anything until you say what you are really wanting too and don’t go trying to candy coat it. I’m not a kid.” Her blue eyes that were normally clear had turned thunderous and dark. He knew from past experience that when things felt wrong and she wasn’t getting straight answers it could only ever end badly, for the other guy. He certainly did not wish to join the ranks of the fallen.

“Look. Your father and I go way back right?”

“Right” She nodded firmly. Colin had been one of the first other adult males in her life outside of family members to visit their house. He had helped with schooling and relocations so many times it was hard to think of a time when he wasn’t in her life.

“Wrong.”

“What?”

“Wrong. Look Kid the first time I met your dad it was about three decades ago and he looked like he had survived falling into a mincer at a slaughterhouse. I found him at the side of the road and you were wrapped up in his arms.” Col’s words were blunt and direct. There were no detectable traces of anything that could be considered a lie which made the bombshell he just dropped on her even harder to process.

“How is that even possible? All the years I’ve known you and what? You lied to me the whole time?”

“Only about how far back I’ve known your dad. He is a good man and dammit if I didn’t feel terrible for him.”

“Why?”

“That is something he would be able to tell you, not me. I told you he was injured. He looked like he had come from a renaissance or medieval fair or something, you both did. He was babbling about not letting them have you and how he didn’t have a wife anymore.” Col chose this time to get up and walk to the false shelf on his bookcase. Tapping it so it popped open revealing a bottle of scotch and some glasses. She had known he kept it there but she hardly ever saw him drinking at the office. He poured some amber coloured liquid into two glasses and handed her one as he went back to his own seat. It burned in her throat as she took a sip of it but she felt the muscles in her body begin to relax a little with the alcoholic lubrication.

“I don’t get what any of that has to do with the case.”

“Because for a couple of weeks during that time. We found things.” He looked over at her making sure she was still alright to continue. “Things like large animals, deer, bears all dead. All fresh and all drained of their blood. Some hikers too.” He downed his drink in one go as if the memory of the events was still with him. It wouldn’t be uncommon; you see it a lot in stressful or unusual cases where you have pushed your mind and body to get on with the job at hand you end up with like a remnant of the memories you suppress. Like an echo coming back to you time and time again, some echoes were worse than others.

Her mind went back to the case reports. Mountain rescue and rangers all reported finding campsites abandoned and later finding the inhabitants dead. The things Col was bringing up matched with what she had already found but they didn’t explain the connection to her and her father or why nothing had been said to her before.

“Why didn’t you say anything about this to me sooner?”

“Told ya. It wasn’t my story to tell. And that body thing was an old case that never came up again.” It was clear from his one that even with a feeling of guilt he was going to stay tight-lipped on this.

“What happened with it?” Asking this she followed Col’s lead and drained her glass. The sudden volume of the fluid travelling down her throat caused that familiar burn you got from strong alcohol to tingle in the back of her nose and she suppressed a cough.

“Shelved. Never caught the ones responsible or found out how they pulled it off. But it only went on for a few weeks and then stopped completely.” Col didn’t sound satisfied. She knew him he hated unfinished work, but back then he would have been a rookie. Nothing you can do if a higher-ups decides to shut down an investigation.

“Right.” She put the glass down on his desk with a hollow clink sound and got up to go. Her hand was on the office door when he called out from behind.

“What you gonna do?”

“You said so yourself. Not your story to tell. So, I’m going to go ask the guy whose story it is.”

One thing she learnt was butting heads with a stubborn person when you are also a stubborn person gets you nowhere and to be honest right now, she was in no mood to fight a wall. She wanted answers. The files she received from the Met were back in her office she would grab those. But most important task now was going to find the person whole tale it was to tell and getting him to talk.

---

The Queen elegantly draped herself in her private chambers near her vanity table. The room was a perfect image of what one might be tempted to call excess. Every surface was highly polished and inlaid with crushed crystals making it look rather like the centre of a geode. The audience with the crown was over and she sighed lightly before catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror and grinned.

It had all gone according to plan. The masses were happy and she had been praised for her beauty, kindness and intelligence so many times she was walking on cloud nine. If it was possible to survive on adoration she felt like she could be immortal right now. Naturally however even in this realm that was not something that could be done. Immortality was the stuff of fantasy. But prolonged life? sustained beauty? You could have all of that. It came at a cost if you were willing to pay, and she was just mad enough to do it.

A knock on the door announced the arrival of two figures. Both were dressed similarly in loose clothing bound over with strips of fabric to pull it tight to their forms. This was the typical uniform for scouts. Nothing more than required and everything designed for complete freedom of movement and cover.

“What did you find?” She didn’t bother with greetings. Observing the two visitors like a cat would a mouse.

“The rift is strong, and it holds. We can go back.” The taller one explained with a complete lack of emotion or detail. She was pleased to see this, emotions wasted time and made for weak soldiers.

“Good. Bring me what I desire.” She waved her hand and turned back to her reflection.

“One other thing My Queen.”

“What?” She moved her eyes in the mirror staring through it at the second scout who had spoken.

“The rift from what we can tell didn’t naturally tear.”

She felt her breath catch in her throat at this piece of information. Naturally forming rifts were rare and took generations to form and become stable. A non-natural rift would mean someone with the power to tear at the fabric of time had created it. Someone as powerful as she was, possibly even more powerful. Her blood ran hot as she picked up a clear crystal turning it over in her hand until it changed to citrine. The glittering yellow like a shard of trapped sunlight glowed from within and she tossed it towards the scouts who caught it nimbly.

“When you go back take this. I want to know what happens to it.”

“As you wish.”

The two scouts briskly left the Queen’s chamber. They had their orders and it never paid to keep her highness waiting. Once they were a safe distance away, a shadow in the corridor rippled a pale outline of a figure moved in the opposite direction. Long fingers pulled the edge of their cloak up higher, turning its hood over their head.

---