#if you wish that you had been denied access to certain books then fine. that’s your business

[pasdetrois]

logging onto tumblr dot com and seeing conservative talking points

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 12 - ao3 -

The dinner lasted until late, late enough that Lan Qiren had to make his excuses and even then only just barely got back to his room in time to fall asleep at the appropriate hour; he didn’t even have enough time to do more than remove his shoes and outer layer before his eyes had closed.

Surprisingly, unlike most social dinners in Lan Qiren’s memory, it hadn’t been awful. Most of that had been thanks to Lao Nie, whose exuberance, as he’d suspected, could carry just about any social interaction to victory. After exhausting himself in thinking of ever more increasingly ridiculous toasts and forcing Wen Ruohan to drink them – they’d switched to wine at some point, although to Lan Qiren’s relief neither offered him any – Lao Nie had turned the subject to the type of music appropriate to be played at a wedding feast, and his opinions on music were, as always, so horrifically wrong that even Lan Qiren had been lured into arguing with him.

At some point, the conversation had shifted to the subject of marriage and weddings more generally, though to Lan Qiren’s relief both men clearly considered him too young to have thoughts about his own future in that regard the way his teachers might have. Instead, they’d spoken about the origins of various wedding traditions – there were some that Lan Qiren had thought were set in stone and handed down from ancient times which Wen Ruohan could recall having seen invented within his lifetime, which was a fascinating advantage of age that Lan Qiren had not previously considered.

It was equally interesting to see Wen Ruohan at his most charming. It was not a mask that the sect leader bothered putting on very often, as far as Lan Qiren knew, and it was a mask, one that was a little loose around the edges – even Lan Qiren could tell. Wen Ruohan would say the right words a beat too late, with his eyes a little too focused and his smile a little too sharp to be believed; his quips were a little too cutting and his suggestions just a little beyond the boundaries of common decency, his cruelty and indifference leaking out around the edges of even a casual chat with people he considered friends.

But at the same time, it was difficult to deny that he was brilliant. Regardless of whether he’d obtained his superior cultivation through dark and dirty means or not, he’d been the master of his sect and about a third of the cultivation world for at least a generation already, and no one managed that without being extremely clever and more than a little ruthless.

It made for interesting conversation, if one beset with a constant feeling of danger…

“I hope you enjoyed the bed.”

Lan Qiren nearly jumped out of his skin in fright, spinning around to stare at Wen Ruohan standing just within the doorway to Lan Qiren's room – he hadn’t heard him open the door, nor close it behind him. The other man was in his wedding finery, the brilliant fiery red of his sect turned to joyous purpose, and yet there was something sinister in his self-assured smile.

“The – bed?” Lan Qiren repeated blankly, and glanced at it. “It was…fine?”

“You complained, last time,” Wen Ruohan said, continuing to stroll into the room with his hands clasped behind his back. “Too hard, I believe you said…I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Lan Qiren vaguely recalled having said something along those lines and blushed in shame. “It’s fine,” he said. “I slept deeply and well. Thank you for your concern.”

“It’s the least I can do,” Wen Ruohan said. “You and I are brothers, are we not? My every thought should be of you.”

That didn’t sound quite right.

Before he could say anything, though, Wen Ruohan clicked his tongue lightly and stood in front of him, looking him up and down. “Your Lan sect’s formal clothing is truly a masterpiece of the embroidered arts,” he said. “A brilliant sight – especially all in white.”

Lan Qiren lowered his head, embarrassed again. If pressed, he would argue that his clothing was a little more silver than pure white, so he wasn’t actually dressed in mourning colors, but it couldn’t be denied that he was much closer than most, making it a little inappropriate for a wedding. Unfortunately, he only owned the one set of formal clothes, and there hadn’t been time to commission another; there was nothing for it.

“I like it,” Wen Ruohan said unexpectedly, his hands settling on Lan Qiren’s shoulders, smoothing out the fabric. Lan Qiren looked up and was caught by that intense red gaze. “My sect colors are red and white, after all – just like the two of us. A matched set.”

His hands burned too hot on Lan Qiren’s shoulders.

“White is a traditional color for the Lan sect as well,” Lan Qiren said, and his voice only quavered a little bit. “Anyway, it’s…mostly grey.”

“White,” Wen Ruohan disagreed. “As pristine as a pearl resting in the palm of your hand.”

His thumbs pressed lightly just by Lan Qiren’s collarbone. There were acupoints there, he thought, although he was having trouble recalling which ones or what they did.

“Yes, a pearl is truly the most apt comparison,” Wen Ruohan mused. “Simple and natural, yet shining with its own luster – I’d thought rubies, to make you fit to my taste, but perhaps pearls will suit you better.”

“I have no need for jewels,” Lan Qiren said, a little alarmed. Had Wen Ruohan really drunk so much the night before that he was still intoxicated, confusing his new sworn brother and his new bride?

“And yet I may wish to give them to you,” Wen Ruohan said. “Surely you won’t deny me – after all, I need to repay you for the charming gift you gave to me.”

Lan Qiren had a sinking feeling.

“Uh,” he said. “You saw it? Already?”

He’d searched the room briefly earlier that morning for the personal gift he’d bought for Wen Ruohan, intending on packaging the bowls away in his return clothing – why hadn’t it occurred to him to simply give it away to one of his fellow disciples, or even to trade or sell it? That way he wouldn’t have embarrassed himself by giving such a simple gift amidst all the opulent luxury of the Nightless City.

It seemed, however, that it was too late for that.

“Oh yes,” Wen Ruohan said, looking amused. “A set of drinking bowls, painted with a flowing border reminiscent of vermilion birds – made by your own hand?”

“I only applied the glaze,” Lan Qiren said hastily. “There was another gift, too –”

“I have dozens of golden crowns of better make and greater utility,” Wen Ruohan said dismissively. “Such a heavy thing. If you told me that you’d picked it yourself, I wouldn’t believe you.”

“No, I did pick –”

“Without constraint? Or from a selection of predetermined choices, each one deemed ‘appropriate’?”

Lan Qiren fell silent.

“Do not tell lies,” Wen Ruohan said, rolling the familiar rule in his mouth as if tasting a wine of fine vintage. “Yes, the guan is a very appropriate gift, neither too distant nor too familiar, too rich or too restrained, perfectly reasonable yet conveying nothing, giving nothing away...I’m quite certain your brother picked it out. But you were the one who picked the bowls, weren’t you? Did you pay for them yourself?”

Lan Qiren felt certain that the conversation was leading to some sort of trap, but he didn’t know what, or how, or how to evade it. “I did,” he admitted. “With my sect allowance.”

“How many months’ worth did it cost you?”

Lan Qiren thought back, calculating. “About three?”

He’d thought to get something nice enough that he wouldn’t lose face in giving it, though naturally he’d underestimated the luxury of the Nightless City. Still, it wasn’t as though he needed the money for much, anyway. The sect supplied him with basic clothing and gear, equipment to tend to his sword and musical instruments, and even access to books; he did not buy himself too many luxuries beyond that. Other than the fees he paid for various sect purposes, it was really only the occasional trinket that caught his eye or rare books on foreign musical techniques that he purchased with his own money.

It wasn’t anything like a sacrifice, not really, but Wen Ruohan still looked pleased about it, smug and satisfied as a cat right after the hunt.

“Three months’ worth,” he murmured, and his hands which were somehow still on Lan Qiren’s shoulders slid inexorably inwards to rest on the sides of his throat. “Even assuming you were extraordinarily parsimonious, little Lan, you could only save a third at a time; that’s nine months of your life that you spent for me. Nearly a twentieth of all the months you’ve lived so far.”

What a strange way to calculate time.

It wasn’t even right, since Lan Qiren had turned seventeen in the interval and that made the interval closer to a twenty-fifth than a twentieth, but also – who thought like that, treating time like a percentage, as if it could be measured and spent like coin? Perhaps it was simply that Wen Ruohan was so old already…and perhaps that, in turn, was why he looked at him so strangely, so unnervingly –

Lan Qiren swallowed, decided he didn’t need his pride more than he needed to get away, and ducked out of Wen Ruohan’s loose grip.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready or something?” he asked, turning and pretending to fuss with his robes to avoid making eye contact. “It’s the morning of your wedding.”

“Indeed it is,” Wen Ruohan said from behind him. He was standing too close: Lan Qiren could feel his breath on the back of his head. “Tell me, little Lan – little brother. What do you think of my marriage?”

Lan Qiren hesitated.

“The truth, if you will,” Wen Ruohan added. “I would hate for the purity of our relationship to be tainted by misdirection, even if you wouldn’t go so far as to lie.”

His voice was mild and even, almost sweet, and Lan Qiren was abruptly convinced that it was far more threatening than any of Lao Nie’s rages or his brother’s ice-cold sarcasms.

“I think you made it up to distract people from swearing brotherhood with me,” he said, turning back to face his fears and sworn brother, and felt his face go red as he realized how self-involved that made him sound. But it was what he thought, and Wen Ruohan had asked him not to lie. “You made a mistake, underestimated people’s reactions, and Lao Nie yelled at you because it was affecting your reputation and mine, so you came up with a better story and made everyone else believe it.”

Wen Ruohan hummed. “What an interesting theory. You don’t think the engagement was merely kept private before being revealed at an appropriate time?”

“No.” Lan Qiren shrugged. “If I’m wrong, of course, I’m wrong. But you asked what I thought.”

“Is that why you got me a gift?” Lan Qiren, surprised, glanced at Wen Ruohan, who was still smiling. “To thank me for clearing up the mess I made of your reputation?”

“I got you a gift because you’re my sworn brother, and you’re getting married,” Lan Qiren said, bemused. “What does my reputation have to do with anything? You’re not the one making everyone gossip, and even if you were, you cleaning up something you did is only what you should do. I don’t see what one has to do with the other.”

This time, Wen Ruohan gave a little huff of amusement, and he sounded almost surprised. “Charmingly blunt.”

“You told me not to lie or misdirect!” Lan Qiren exclaimed, feeling betrayed.

Now Wen Ruohan was chuckling in earnest. “Ah, little Lan,” he said. “Someone is going to get you into trouble one day, and it may very well be me…you’re right, you know.”

“What?”

“About the wedding,” he said lazily, and put a hand on top of Lan Qiren’s head. “Both in terms of motivation and timing. You’re entirely right, except for one part.”

“What part?”

His fingers tightened, the too-sharp nails digging into Lan Qiren’s scalp and pulling at his hair until his head was forced back to look up at Wen Ruohan.

“I didn’t make a mistake,” Wen Ruohan said. His eyes were boring into Lan Qiren’s own, the pressure of his will strong, as insistent as his voice. “You were not a mistake, little Lan. You’re mine.”

“Of course I am,” Lan Qiren said, suddenly irritated for no reason he could tell. “Your sworn brother. Doesn’t the whole world know it by now?”

“Mm. I suppose they do.”

“And on that note,” Lan Qiren said, “what are the terms, anyway? I never got to see them.”

“The – terms?”

“Of our brotherhood! My brother confiscated the paper you gave me before I could look it over, and naturally I don’t remember, so you have to give me another copy. I think I’m entitled to one, since I’m a part of it, and presumably you did the drafting. Was it one of the classical oaths? Which clauses were included? Provisions? Curses? Was there any consideration of – stop laughing!”

Wen Ruohan had released Lan Qiren’s hair in order to brace himself on the wall, he was laughing so hard. Laughing with big laughs that came up from his belly and stuck in his throat, and no matter what Lan Qiren said he didn’t say one single thing in response. Lan Qiren eventually gave up with a huff and stormed out.

Let the irritating bastard be late to his own wedding, for all he cared.

[chronicbatfictioner]

Exchanges and Compromises - Chapter 20

The dinner was just as Jason expected, bland, dull, a lot of formalities in which Bane was visibly struggling with and did not even bother to pretend to know the difference between steak or salad forks. Jason, Dick, and Tim managed to keep the conversation alive and light, somehow without offending the formality of the dinner. Good thing, Jason thought, that The League had taught him of formal dinner etiquette and whatnot, otherwise he would have been slurping the baiwang with the soup spoon instead of the Chinese soup spoon provided by Alfred - like Bane.

Dick, for all of his lack of etiquette education, won in the manners division - regardless of the fact that Tim was helping him by pointing out which cutlery should be used for what. At the very least, he was not beneath asking what he wasn't sure of. 

The day after was a little duller. Alfred merely informed them that the police were there along with the District Attorney, Harvey Dent, to arrest Bane on several counts of murder. Bane was arrested nearly without a fight - he had been purged of his venom strength and knew that he had no chance against some of the cops who were ready to taser him.

Jason was... frankly, a little disappointed.

"Would've been nice if there was a brawl or something," Dick voiced Jason's thought out loud just as he walked outside.

"Oh, goodness, I'm just glad this is over," Bruce commented, glaring apprehensively at Dick's back as the latter walked away with Damian. There was a good long silence before he added, "I presume now that Bane is out of this house, Damian will no longer need you two? I mean, he has me now - and his grandparents." he pointed out.

"I have vowed to guard Damian until he is an adult," Jason replied simply. Ignoring Bruce's sudden change of expression. "it is my order."

"Well, Talia... no offense. But Talia won't-- is no longer around to hold you accountable." Bruce argued.

"No, she's not. But Damian is." Jason looked at the child, sitting under one of the Manor's massive trees with a thick sketchbook before him. Dick, Jason knew, was on the tree. Even with Bane arrested, Oracle had warned that as long as he's not fully incarcerated in a maximum-security facility, he could still either get out and hurt the Waynes - including Damian. Therefore Jason asked Dick to remain with them for a little while longer. Thankfully, Dick didn't mind.

"He's a child. Children adapt well with changes of environments," Bruce said. "and if you're afraid that Bane would come back, I can hire some bodyguards for him."

Jason managed to hold back his smirk. People always thought that he was there to protect Damian; not realizing that he was protecting others from Damian's temper. Instead, he smarted, "like you protected your parents by sending them overseas."

"Oh, now, that's not fair." Bruce protested. "It was... we all thought that... at least mother and I..." he didn't finish his sentence as he exhaled exasperatedly. "His DNA check is back," he continued after a few moments of silence.

"Obviously, he hasn't a drop of Wayne blood in him," Jason suggested, a little dryly. "Something anyone with knowledge of the molecular structure of DNA would have known right away. You accepted Damian right away because you saw he has your mother's ears, in spite of his green eyes. Yet you doubted your father's denial in spite of the fact that there is nothing on Bane that resembled any of you - including about all of the portraits of your ancestors.

"And then there's something else I realized. Bane came with nothing; whereas Damian came with the Al Ghul wealth. You were more accepting because Damian would not equal splitting the Wayne wealth..."

"That is not true!" Bruce growled. "I would not have turned Damian away even if he was not Talia's child. He is my child, and I know that he is!"

"Then we're back to my initial point: You were unable to defend your parents because you did not have 100% faith in their virtues. The Al Ghuls are known leaders of the League of Assassins, to which the leadership shall now be Damian's. What will be your argument, when he decides to take over the League fully? 'Oh, I can't be associated with criminals, even if said crimes were just allegation and not a video recording of someone snapping off another person's neck'?" Jason sneered. "Now, Mister Wayne. I also would like to remind you, that I have Damian's legal custody. If you insist I should leave, I shall bring him along."

"You can't do that," Bruce scowled. "He's my biological child..."

"You have studied your country's laws, Mister Wayne. But you forgot the one crucial thing: Damian is not your country's boy by any means other than your claim." Jason mentally realized that he has placed one of his ace cards onto the table. But he honestly prefers this kind of conversation not to be had when Damian is present. And from the looks of it, he has packed his sketching materials and was making his way back indoors. "Do not try to deny Damian's access to me, or the League, Mr Wayne. He is not yours to manipulate," he added softly while Damian was still out of range.

"Hey guys, Damian and I are hungry," Dick announced as they went past the door. "Think Alfred would let us have cookies?"

"He's the one who is hungry, Todd," Damian told Jason. "I shall wait until tea time for the cookies. It is only a mere hour away."

"Why don't you scrub up a little? Tea should be ready by the time you're done." Bruce suggested.

Damian's scowl could have killed a cobra. "While I am planning on refreshing myself, father, it would be kind of you to cease directing me as if I am an imbecile," he stated, and for the second time in less than 10 minutes, Jason bit the inside of his cheek to stop a snicker.

Bruce, however, was not amused at Damian. "Well! That is not what a child should say to his father!" he admonished.

"Todd," Damian glared at Jason. "Did you not inform Mr Wayne here that I merely referred to him as 'father' due to common societal practices?" he asked with air quotes around the word 'father'.

"I have informed him that, Damian," Jason assured him.

"Do remind him on a daily basis that I am not obliged to remain here beyond what is demanded by his country's societal norms." Damian continued.

"I shall, Damian," Jason replied.

"Very well, I shall be in my quarters until tea time. You might consider feeding Grayson here, Todd," Damian said dismissively.

"I actually have some matters to discuss with you, Damian, if you don't mind. I think Grayson can fend for himself just fine," Jason told him.

"I don't mind. Let us, then." Damian said, leading the way back to his room.

Jason nodded politely to Bruce and motioned Dick to join him. "Mr Wayne, Grayson."

As they left Bruce, still standing in confusion - probably - Dick remarked, "ouch," softly.

"Go on and get your own cookies, Grayson," Jason remarked.

"I need to discuss something with you, too. You two, actually, somewhere safe." Dick said. Both Jason and Damian paused their steps. "Yeah, and we might need to call upon a certain bird for backup," Dick added, almost nonchalantly. It was not until then that Jason noticed the tenseness on his shoulders. He remembered that Dick, too, was trained to keep an eye out for danger.

"You go on ahead with Damian, I'll ask Alfred if he may have tea in his quarters." Jason decided. Damian nodded, realizing the urgency in Dick's posture, and stepped a little closer to Dick as Jason turned the other way.

Whatever it is Dick has to say, Jason could be certain now that besides himself, Dick would protect Damian fiercely. And/or protect other, possibly innocent people, from Damian's tempers.

He was just wondering why did it seem that Bruce Wayne was so intent on removing him.

And why Dr and Mrs Wayne would suddenly take a trip to Europe right after they were proverbially and literally freed from Bane.

Alfred, as usual, was in the kitchen preparing for tea time. In spite of being Americans, the Waynes seemed to like the habit of afternoon tea time.

Jason told Alfred of Damian's request, and Alfred nodded slowly. "Is Master Bruce still in the sun-room, then?" he asked.

"Last time I saw him, yeah."

"Ah, then... young Jason, may an old man request something from you and your vast knowledge of herbs?" Alfred's face was as impassive as ever when he said that, just a shade before he returned to his task of preparing some small sandwiches. But Jason was a little confused. Why would Alfred ask him for herbs? As far as Jason could tell, he was as healthy as... well, someone Jason's age, which has got to be at least a third of Alfred's; half at most. Jason didn't think that Alfred was any older than mid- to late-40s.

"Sure, how can I help?" he answered, anyway.

"Oh, I was wondering if there is any method you may suggest to... how do I put it... Chafe off surgical remains within oneself? I have had work done for my nose, you see, on a whim as a young lad; and I do not believe it looks becoming on me as I age. I feel as if it makes me look like another person is inhabiting my body, as Master Bruce was wont to say."

Jason blinked, and partially wished Dick was there to confirm his thoughts. In spite of being the exact same height as Jason, Alfred was bowing his head a little as he spoke; and Jason knew that there was a surveillance camera that would be able to record their conversation in the kitchen. His shoulders were tenser than the task of cutting bread would have required.

"Well, wow... okay. I'll need to actually search my books. You know some of the ladies back then would apply something to their skin for scars or bruises. But I'm not sure if it'll work on surgical stuff. I'll let you know?" Jason replied carefully.

"Thank you, Jason, for considering. While it shames me for being vain, it is... rather crucial." Alfred smiled at him.

"No problem, Alf," Jason patted him on the shoulder and made his way back to Damian's room - where each and every surveillance device has been disabled and/or misdirected by the combination of Tim, Barbara, and Damian's own skills.

Once Jason walked in and closed the doors of Damian's room behind him, he was greeted by both Damian and Dick's voices.

"That man is not my father, Todd! I believe my grandparents may still be in danger!" Damian exclaimed as Dick stormed over and announced 'There was an increase of drone activities outside, that's why I brought Damian in!' - followed by Damian and Dick glaring at each other, and Damian said, "Todd, we might need to acquire some new exit strategy!" at the same time as Dick saying, 'I've sent a text to Tim, but he hasn't answered. I've texted Babs, though!'

Jason cringed at them. "Whoa! Hold up! If this is how you two kids report, nobody would need surveillance equipment to hear you from Gotham Harbor!" he snarled. The two promptly stopped and glared at each other again, as if they both were hoping to have Superman's laser vision or something. "Okay, I've heard you both, and I'm upping the ante. Alfred just asked me practically for a method to dissolve foreign objects inside someone's body and allude that someone in the house is not who they seemed. And said someone might be Bruce."

Damian threw his fist to the air, stating, "I knew it!"

Dick's eyes were wide as saucers. "Okay... I would... I've wanted to say the same thing since we got in. But I was kinda scared I might be wrong. What makes you sure?"

"Alfred referred to Bruce in the past tense when talking to me," Jason said. "You? --wait, no, Damian first."

"He looked and behaved differently than the videos mother had shown me," Damian replied.

"I second Damian on this. Well, dude... we need to communicate better, don't we?" Dick said, telling the last bit toward Damian. "I've only met him once, way back when-- when my parents were... you know. But like I've told you, I remember everything from that day as if it has just happened. I remember Bruce Wayne was there with a blonde girl wearing chinchilla fur, a 50s hairdo, and an actual pearl pin. But when my parents... right after, I saw him directing traffic of people out of the tent calmly. His presence then was literally calming, like, everyone was looking at him for direction. This Bruce... generally, looked too nervous on everything; if that makes sense."

Jason thought a moment. Dick was really good at reading people's body language - even the most stoic Alfred. Before Bane was removed, Dick's assessment of Alfred was that he was uncomfortable with Bane, yet very welcoming of Damian. Thus his immediate trust in Alfred. However, since Bane was arrested and proven to not have been a Wayne; Jason hasn't got the chance to ask Dick to re-assess Alfred.

"Okay, I'll retrieve the video footage of your dad from 10 years ago from the League's servers. We'll cross-check. We'll tell the Birds once we're sure, yeah?" Jason suggested.

"Agreed," Damian nodded slowly.

"I'll have Tim keeping an eye on the Doc and Missus while we're at it, though. I mean, you know, precautions and all." Dick suggested.

"Okay, call Tim. If he doesn't answer, call Babs or his mom. I'd like this whole thing settled quickly before Bruce can do anything to harm Damian." Jason huffed a breath slowly, wondering what the hell is it with the Waynes that seemed to run on endless conspiracy theories, anyway.

[themaribatpit]

Saturday Challenge: Hurt Without Comfort

Written by: The Maribat Pit This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, they should have done it his way…

Marinette was fighting for her life, while Master Fu tended to her wounds.  All her friends could do was wait, as they gathered around the shop he used as a front.  Jason was absolutely furious with himself for not acting sooner, the person who she tried to save had shot her just before she could capture whatever was controlling him.  Jason shot the akuma and watched as it shattered into several little pieces, he hoped Hawk Moth felt that gunshot too.  Now Jason was trapped in a room with her friends Adrien, Alya, and Nino.  Their little fairy friends were also very quiet, hovering very close to whoever possessed the magic jewelry that contained their power.   

Of course, this wasn’t Gotham City, Marinette had reminded him time and time again.  The people she was up against were being controlled by Hawk Moth or Mayura, whatever damage they caused could be fixed with a wave of her lucky charm.  Oh, how he wanted to believe that was true right now.  Tikki phased through the door and you could tell just by looking at her that Master Fu was still in the process of trying to heal her. 

Moments later, Chloe walked in and the atmosphere began to feel stifling with tension.  She looked around the room at all the people anxiously waiting for news.  “What happened? Where is she?” she snapped, Adrien stepped forward to try and answer her question when her eyes fell on Jason. “You, she trusted you, she thought you were some kind of hero. She thought you were her ‘Red Knight’, but I know exactly what you are” Jason stood up, ready to walk out of the room. He wasn’t going to take this from a spoiled little rich girl.  She threw a small file onto the nearby table.  Jason glanced at it, articles and photos of the Red Hood and his dealings.  He’d almost be impressed that she had access to some of this information, probably the perks of being a mayor’s daughter. 

“So, let me get this straight Miss Bourgeois” Jason growled, “you found information that, let’s be honest, isn’t news to anyone who’s actually met me. I was one of Gotham’s most feared crime lords, still probably am. It probably doesn’t begin to cover what I do to people who break my rules”.

Chloe crossed her arms, “so you won’t even try and deny it?”

“Trust me when I say even Marinette knows a lot more than what’s in those files,” he told her.  “She knows that I killed people who have done things you can’t begin to imagine, some of whom taught me what I know”, he took a couple of steps towards her. “Much like you and your little friends here, I’ve been doing this since I was 13” he explained, “I wasn’t up against magic mind control victims, I was up against people who delight in making people suffer”.

Alya put an arm out in front of Jason, while Adrien tried to hold Chloe by the shoulders, keeping the two of them apart.  “Look everyone, let’s all just calm down and wait til Marinette wakes up” Nino said, trying his best to diffuse the situation. 

“The only reason she’s in there is because she put her trust in someone like you” Chloe sneered, “what makes you so sure she’s going to be fine?”

“Honestly, I don’t know” Jason said in a frighteningly low voice,  Alya looked up and saw that his face didn’t change much.  The stoic glare made it very difficult to tell exactly what he was thinking.   “Your friend is at death’s door, and that’s a dumb question to ask someone who’s been in and out through it,” there was a long silence as the meaning of his words sank in.  Tikki and Plagg exchanged knowing glances, their magic was the very thing that gave birth to the Lazarus pits.  “So sorry if you are just about the last thing I’m afraid of,” he narrowed his eyes at her as he said this.  Jason gently lowered Alya’s arm and brushed past Chloe as he walked away.  He could just about hear what Alya was saying as he left.

“Chloe listen, we’re all worried for Marinette” Alya told her, “but what happened wasn’t Jason’s fault. She knew all that, but chose to see the good in him, just like she chose to see the good in you.”

When he stepped outside, he noticed that the rain was pouring heavily.  Jason sighed, it was almost like he was cursed, bringing Gotham’s atmosphere into this colourful little city.  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Tikki hovering just beside him.  He sighed and opened one of the lapels in his leather jacket, letting Tikki nestle herself inside before picking a direction and walking away. 

He found the nearest bar and sat down, looking around the quiet room.  Most of the people inside were in their own little worlds, barely paying any attention to anyone else outside of their own table.  Jason took off his jacket and Tikki slowly floated out of the inside pocket, before slumping down behind the beer bottle.  If she wanted him to tell her that Marinette would be alright, he couldn’t be certain, no matter how much he wished it was true.  Jason watched the world go by in that tiny little bar, neither of them said a word to one another.  As far as anyone else was concerned, Jason was sitting there by himself, alone.  He had half a mind to take matters into his own hands and go track down Hawk Moth and Mayura himself.  They were the ones responsible, they didn’t care who got hurt in the carnage that they created.  The only problem was it wasn’t his fight, and that was the very reason that he played by Marinette’s rules in the first place.  She explained that if she could just take back the Miraculous, they would be powerless, and that was a win in her book.  The Kwami would be returned to the Miracle box, and everyone could just get on with their lives.  By the time he was on his second bottle, he looked down at Tikki, her antenna drooping with sadness.  Jason sighed “go back and check on her”, Tikki looked up with a confused look on her face.  “If she wakes up and you’re not there, she’s gonna feel pretty sad.” he explained.  Tikki hovered towards the window before turning towards him, “she’ll be sad if you’re not there as well” she told him. “She’ll know where to find me, right now,” he took one last gulp of beer, “right now I just need to think.” he said.  Tikki hesitated before vanishing through the window in a puff of pink bubbles, leaving Jason alone with his thoughts and some more alcohol.  Jason stared at the yellow glow of the lights hanging from the ceiling, thinking about just how much he had been through.  @jasonette-july-event

[sweetiepie08]

Rebel Z (Chapter 10 Final)

nvader Zim fanfic

While analyzing Zim’s PAK for weaknesses, Tak discovers strange coding that sends her on a search for answers. The clues lead her to uncover a conspiracy that governs all of Irken society. When the truth sends her on the run, she has no choice but to return to the one place the Tallest would never willingly go: Urth.

Meanwhile, Dib has noticed odd changes in Zim’s behavior. Has the invader simply grown bored of his mission over the last few years, or is there something more interesting going on?

People who asked to be tagged: @incorrect-invader-zim , @messinwitheddie, @reblogstupids, @cate-r-gunn

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list please let me know.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. 

Thank you for reading! I do plan to continue the story in a sequel fic, but I may take a short hiatus first. I hope you enjoyed this!

Be on the lookout for the next book in the series, RevolutionZ! In which Zim and Tak attempt to join the Resisty and gain new companions! Dib fills his gap year by joining an alien rebellion! Gaz gets dragged in too! And what happened to Zim in Death Melee is explained! 

However, I will most likely only be posting links to Ao3 than full chapters to Tumblr. Again, Thank you everyone for reading!

[-]

“So, what exactly the fuck was all that stuff with the punch about?” Dib asked once they were a comfortable distance away form the Massive.

Zim glared straight ahead at the stars. “It’s nothing that concerns you, human.”

“Bullshit!” Dib slammed his hand down on the control panel. “Your little stunt could have gotten us killed. Out with it!”

Zim gritted his teeth and gripped the steering mechanism until his knuckles quaked. Dib braced himself for the inevitable screaming denial. Instead, Zim let out a pained sigh. “Fine, if you must know, I figured out three Urth years ago that my mission was a sham and my leaders were trying to have me killed, so I took revenge. Happy?”

“We know all that,” Tak snapped. “And anyway, I told you your mission was a lie a long time ago. What I want to know is how you managed to betray the Tallest without your treasonous thoughts setting of your life clock.”

“Yeah, and who’s Spek?” Dib added.

“You wish to hear Zim’s tale of woe?” He clenched his fist and heaved out another sigh. “Fine. Three Urth years ago, the Tallest contacted me, telling me they selected me to participate in Death Melee, an inter-galactic event that all would be watching.”

“The one where they throw criminals on a planet together to fight to the death?” Tak deadpanned. “That was your first clue?”

“They told me the rules had changed and it was now a contest of elite warriors. For my partner, they gave me a Spek, a smeet just shy of his cadet years. He hadn’t even seen his first cycle yet…” Zim’s fists shook as he cut himself off.

“Since you’re still alive, I’m assuming you won,” Dib said.

“Yes, but…” his gaze fell to the floor. “Yes. Anyway, throughout the Melee, it became clear to me that the Tallest lied. This was still a game for criminals, but Spek…” Zim narrowed his haunted eyes, “he was only there to lessen my chances.”

Dib watched, mesmerized. He thought he’d seen the many moods of Zim. He’d seen everything from proud boasting, to spiteful rage, to pathetic schmooping. But this, this was something else entirely, something he never expected to see from the alien. True remorse.  

“On my journey back to Urth,” he continued, “I had too much time to think and when made it back to m base, I was done with all of it.” Rage grew in his voice with every word. “I knew they lied. I knew they’d been lying. For a moment, I thought, if they didn’t want my genius, maybe someone else would. And that thought was enough to set off my life clock. Instead of simply ripping out my feedback chip, I infected it with a virus that sends the Control Brains a loop of my Urth memories, preventing it from receiving new thoughts and experiences.” A bitter, satisfied smile came to his face. “As far as I can tell, it hadn’t noticed anything was off until now.”

“And the machines I saw you building?” Dib pressed.

Zim drew himself up. “I have a contract with the Resisity. I build them machines, they appreciate my genius and send me monies.”

“And that’s what you’ve been doing for three years?” Dib asked, voice sripping with skepticism.

Zim nodded and said nothing more.

Dib stared at him, trying to get a read on this whole tale. He wasn’t sure what to believe. Zim’s reason for existence seamed to be pleasing his Tallest. The little green monster talked of nothing else since arriving on Urth. He couldn’t imagine Zim wanting anything else and he’d fallen for the schmoopy act before. But this was not schmoop. It was too subtle, too quiet. And that betrayal of his Tallest couldn’t be denied. Something had truly changed.

Dib looked to Tak to gauge her opinion, but her face revealed nothing except careful calculation.

“I’d heard the Resisty had been growing and gaining power,” she mused. “New technology granted them upsetting victories and made them more of a problem than they once were. They could be the key. We need to fight if we ever want a chance of defeating the Control Brains and freeing our people, and for that, we’ll need an army. With your connection and my information, we could pose a real threat to the Empire.”

Dib expected Zim to launch into another tirade about how he wasn’t in it for the politics. That this was all a personal mission and he had no interest in going rogue. That did not happen.

Instead, Zim said nothing for a long time. He simply stared through the windshield in tense silence. But then, a grin grew slowly on his face. “I’m in.”

[-]

When they made it back to Earth, they found that Gaz made use of MiMi and Mini Mouse as gaming companions, Dad bought her excuse that Dib was hanging out at Zim’s house, and that he hadn’t even stopped home long enough to notice the two additional robots in the living room.

Dib went straight to his room and laid out all of his recording devices. He had the notes he took the night Zim and Tak rambled drunkenly on the couch. He had the audio recording of the old man Irken that he couldn’t wait to translate. And he had the spy camera he’d been wearing to capture the whole experience. He never got so much undeniable proof on one mission before, and no one, to his knowledge, had this much evidence of this quality ever. He’d be king of the Swollen Eyeball network if he showed even a fraction of…

His eyes drifted to the Swollen Eyeball emblem pinned to his bulletin board and he let out a sigh. The Swollen Eyeball… what a joke. They’d been reduced to a bunch of anti-science conspiracy nuts. The organization became a competition to see who could shout their wildest theory the loudest. What were they compared to a real evil alien empire, a real soul-sucking, Lovecraftian horror, and a real space alien rebellion?

No. This was bigger than some crack-pot conspiracy group. This rebellion universe-shattering consequences. And he was going to be part of it.

[-]

Out in his ship, Zim stared at his PAK connector with warry eyes. He wasn’t sure what held him back now. His stunt on the Massive already solidified his traitor status, but this felt different, more official. It was one thing to enact vengeance on those who betrayed him. It was quite another to completely detach himself from society.

He’d been unwaveringly loyal to the Empire since his conception, but they didn’t want him. He’d seen that years ago. So what was he waiting for?

He disconnected the PAK from his back and ignored the lifeclock in the corner of his eye as he plugged it in. He opened the hatch, clicked a pair of tweezers in his fingers, then reached them toward his feedback chip.

At a light tug, his computer’s voice gave an automated warning.

You are attempting to remove the feedback chip. Doing so is an act of treason against the Irken Empire. Are you sure you want to proceed?

Zim closed his eyes and pulled the chip free.

[-]

Tak’s footsteps echoed as she walked across the concrete garage floor. MiMi’s metallic feet clacked beside her. Apart from that, the room was silent. She was used to silence. One grows accustomed to it when traveling alone through space. But these last few days had been anything but. And with Zim as her dubious ally, silent moments like this were certain to be few and far between.

And yet, this moment, she felt the need to fill it with something.

She popped open the windshield of her ship and hopped inside. “MiMi, my disc please.” Mimi reached into her head and took out the Urth data storage disc. Zim wasn’t the only one with a secret stash.

Tak took the disc from Mimi and placed it in a tray on the ship’s control panel. “Ship, track six please.” As she hopped out, music began to play. Smooth, jazzy horns filled the air and the singer began crooning.

Maybe this time, I’ll be lucky. Maybe this time he’ll stay…

The song was from an Urth performance art piece. The vocalist sang about some male mate. That part didn’t interest Tak in the slightest. Still, there was something about it...

Not a loser anymore, like the last time and the time before…

The song continued to play as Tak opened the engine access panel and began her work. While manipulating the many gears and wires, she found a few interesting repair methods that the human implemented over the years. Many employed the use of an Urth bonding strip called “duct tape”, which she had to admit came in handy. The human didn’t do a bad job, even if it was pretty slap-dash.

All the odds are in my favor, something’s bound to begin…

She finally untangled a mess of wires and reconnected them.

It’s gotta happen, happen sometime…

She fused together the final wire and the ship hummed to life. Fuel Regulation Systems online.

Tak smiled, “Okay Mimi, looks like we’re finally getting somewhere.” She ducked back into the access panel as the song his its crescendo.

Maybe this time I’ll win.

[xfandomwritingsx]

The Sweet of Night – Loki Laufeyson – Part 5

-gif source unknown-

Description: After growing up besides Loki and having a complicated friendship with him, you visit him in his cell at night.  

Warnings/Labels: Overbearing mother? Is that a warning?

Approx. Word Count: 2,700

Story Masterpost

Flowers in hand, you knock on the large wooden door of your mother’s home. It’s a quaint little cottage in one of the nearby villages. She had moved into it shortly after your father passed despite still being offered a place in the palace. While you missed seeing her daily, it didn’t surprise you that she declined and ventured into her own little home. The quiet, common life simultaneously suited her while making her feel important.

“My daughter!” she greets warmly as she opens the door. Her once golden hair, now slowly melting into white, is tied into an elegant braid draped over the front of her shoulder. “What brings you by?” she asks as though you don’t visit her the same time every week. You smile anyways as she pulls you into a hug which you return. “So beautiful!” She takes the bundle of flowers from your hands. “Come in! I have tea almost ready.” Her robe is a dull, dirty beige color and it always humors you how even with the extravagant and expensive silk robes in her closet, she chooses the most drab clothing for her daily life.

“Mother, you don’t even like tea,” you laugh.

“Ah, but you do!” she points her finger at you and then shuffles you to the table. “So,” she sighs happily as she puts the flowers in an already prepared vase in the center of lace table cloth. “What have you been up to?” You sit as she disappears behind a doorway to her kitchen where you hear her bothering with the tea pot and cups. She comes back quickly and arranges the dishes neatly on the table.

“Just work, Mother.” You know she’s going to ignore your tone. It clearly portrays that you know the real question she’s asking, the one she’s about to ask directly, and that you have no interest in answering. She’s going to ask anyways. It’s what she does. According to her, it’s what every good mother does.

“Not seeing anyone special?” The expected question causes an unexpected squeeze in your ribcage, but you manage to hide it well.

“No, Mother.” You use the same drawn out, placating tone you always use and reach for a tea cup.

“Shame,” she hums, passing you the honey.

“How’s your garden doing?” you ask quickly before she can press further. “It looks like it’s thriving.” She throws a look over her shoulder at the window as if to peer out at it.

“It’s doing well. The children are taking very good care of it.” You smile warmly at her. For all her faults, the woman has always been generous. She regularly pays young children to tend her garden and then usually gives away most of the produce. “The little one, Alistair, he’s quite dedicated.” You sip your tea and nod. “You know, his father is Lord Devereux.” She raises a brow at you and you sigh, setting your tea back down, already sensing where this is going. “Lord Devereux’s eldest son is of age now.” She pauses for merely a moment. “He would make a fine suitor.”

“Mother!” you exclaim, not sure if you’re irritated or amused at this point. “His son is much younger than I!”

“Yes, but he’s of age! And a younger man will certainly ensure he’ll be around long enough to take care of you.” She leans back in her chair and crossing her legs, shrugging. “Plus… think of his stamina.” Your eyes widen and if you’d had tea in your mouth, your sputtering would have sent it all over her table.

“Mother!” She laughs at your outburst and picks dust from the lace cloth.

“Oh, come now!” She always manages to scold you with a smile on her face. “You should at least meet with the boy.”

“The very fact that you’ve referred to him as a boy leads me to believe I should do no such thing.” The woman is relentless and perhaps a little delusional, but she never fails to makes you laugh at the insanity she brings forth.

“When was the last time you were out with a suitor?” she pries. You squint your eyes and look upwards as though thinking deeply.

“Well,” you ponder. “It was roughly two days after the last feast.” Her eyes widen with intrigue and she leans forward.

“Really? With whom?” Her genuine excitement causes laughter to bubble within you.

“Warrior Patrick! You arranged a dinner!”

“Oh,” she shies away with a smile.

“Perhaps you should stop trying to arrange suitors if you’re forgetting every match you’ve tried to make.” You go back to drinking your tea and watch her fluster.

“I wouldn’t have to make so many matches if you weren’t so stubborn.” She sits back with a huff. “You must have gotten that from your father.”

“Obviously, because you clearly still have yours.” You both take a moment and crumble into laughter at one another. When the giggles subside, she reaches across the table for your hand and you allow her to take it.

“Oh my daughter,” she sighs. “I just want to make sure that before I pass, I know you’re going to be taken care of.” You open your mouth to retort, but she stops you. “I want you to have more than I did. I want you to marry wealthy and have not a care in the galaxy. I want my grandkids to grow up lavishly.” Her fingers rub gently over your hand and when she looks up at you, her eyes glisten with the threat of tears. “I want you to be more than okay.” Your heart softens and you place your other hand over hers.

“Mother,” You squeeze her hand. “Rushing me off into the arms of the man with the wealthiest pockets isn’t going to make me okay. I want more than riches and gold gowns. I want love, passion, a man who makes me feel something other than obligation. And if I’m to have children, I want their father to be a man on honor.” You give a small smile and roll your eyes. “Half the noblemen are barely fit to be a good husband, let alone a good father.” She pats underneath her eyes with the pads of her free fingers, dabbing away at any stray tears that may have fallen. “When I find a man, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Well I’d better!” She smiles and retracts her hand. “And I refuse to die until I see you married. Though I suppose if you chose a middle class gentlemen, that would be alright too.” You manage to withhold your eye roll but let you smile out. “Better than some of the women in this village, pining after downright criminals!” She narrows her eyes in disgust and shakes her head, but you find your breath caught in your throat again.

“Yes well, no pining for criminals here.” Did your voice waver? You aren’t certain. If it had, your mother shows no signs of noticing, for which you are very grateful. She starts prattling on about how some of the women talk and some of their men. You choose to stay quiet and finish your tea. Best not to risk any more oddities in your untrustworthy voice.

---

“You seem tense,” Loki observes. You’ve been sitting in the chair Decimus provided for quite some time now, but your body has yet to relax into it. Before you can deny it, he continues. “As long as your habits haven’t changed, I would assume you’ve visited your mother this morning.” You scoff at your own predictability. “What did dear Penelope do now?”

“You know she would have you hanged if she heard you address her like that?” You raise an eyebrow at him, but can’t quite muster the energy to hide your amusement.

“Well, lucky for me then that I’m not high on her list of visits to make.” He leans forward in his own chair which has been pushed further towards the barrier tonight. “So what did our Madam Healer do now?” You give a short roll of your eyes.

“Nothing new. She’s still trying to marry me off to the highest bidder.” He grimaces and you realize your words are perhaps a bit harsher than they should have been. “She means well,” you defend. “She just doesn’t quite understand there’s more to my happiness than a title and wealth.” Another sharp roll of your eyes and a hard, bitter stare at the nearest wall. “Stars forbid I ever get involved with someone less than well off and apparently it would be an utter disgrace to marry a criminal.” You’d learned she is quite quick to harshly judge those men who may not have followed the law to the letter. The thought of her bittiness towards them angers you.

“Was that a proposal?” Loki teases after a short silence. It takes you a moment you put together his question with your statement and your eyes widen, suddenly in a panic.

“Of course not!” You feel heat rise into your face as he bares his teeth in a wide smile. “I would not propose to you!” He shrugs.

“Well if you’re expecting one from myself, I regret to inform you I don’t have access to a selection of fine jewelry from my current state.” Deciding to let yourself relax and simply play along, your fold your hands in your lap and finally lean back.

“Well I suppose you’ll just have to make me a ring out of the paper from my books you borrow, won’t you?” He crinkles his nose up at you.

“A ring?” Shaking his head, he leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “My darling, a bride of mine would have a crown.” He turns to look over his shoulder at his bed where the latest book is hidden. “In fact, I may have to tear up more than one of your books to make a proper piece.”

“Don’t you dare ruin a single of my books.” You point your finger at him, breaking the playful ruse to make sure he wouldn’t actually do such a thing. Some of those you lend are rare! His smile snaps off his face and he holds up his hands.

“I would never,” he promises before breaking back into a smile again. The air settles and you try to relax your body into the hard metal of the chair. You are not successful. Something about your visit with your mother just has strings of your muscles tense and on edge. You roll your shoulders back and Loki watches you with a look of consideration. He seems to make a decision and lifts his chin. “Close your eyes.” You do no such thing.

“What?” You most certainly need more information before obliging his wish. He sighs with a slight impatience.

“Close your eyes,” he repeats. You still do not do as he says. “What do you think I am going to do from in here?” he questions, sensing your uneasiness. “Trust me.”

Trust him? It’s a large thing to ask and yet he commands it so casually. You force yourself to think about it, to mull it over in your mind despite the fact that your first instinct is to do just as asks; trust him.

In the end, with one more curious and unsure glance his way, you let your eyes close and envelope you in darkness. You’re aware, firstly, of where the light sources make the black behind your lids just the slightest bit brighter. The lantern on the wall off to your left. The dull light from his cell. The flicker of barrier wall in front of you.

“Good,” he coos, his voice washing over you. “Let your mind relax and just listen.” A part of you holds a suspicion and wants to open your eyes, but you push it back. “Imagine you’re in your chambers. Warm. Safe. Plush.” You let yourself imagine a small fire underneath your mantle at night, the shadow of the flames dancing along your walls. It’s a comforting image. “You sit on your bed, the blankets thick and soft beneath you.” In your mind you wear short pants cut off mid-thigh so that you can feel the lush fur of your favorite blanket against your legs as you climb atop the bed. “A man is with you, sitting behind you. Hands come to your shoulders, squeezing softly.” The mention of a man threatens to ruin your peace, but his words continue to ease you into relaxation. “He runs his fingertips down your arms, so feather-light it sends small chills through you.” Your body tenses to suppress a real shiver at just the prospect of the sensation. “Fingers glide back up and thumbs press into the space between your neck and your shoulders, kneading there, pushing at your tension, battling it. Slender fingers that hold strength. When the knots break, his thumbs slip down your spine, fingers gliding along the smoothness of your bare back.” You’re mutedly aware of a flicker of light in front of your eyes. The barrier, perhaps? Has he touched it? Lost in the fantasy of the massage Loki is telling, you don’t dare open your eyes to find out. “Fingers back up to your neck, rubbing, pressing. Harder in your tense areas, lighter and softer at your more tender. You can feel his breath at your ear as he eases your tension.”

His words work wonders. Your head even lolls to the side as though leaning into someone or giving someone access. You let out a long, audible sigh and then suddenly it doesn’t feel so imagined anymore. You feel the physical sensation of cool fingertips at the juncture of your neck contrasted with warm breath at the back of your ear. Cold dread plummets down your body and your eyes snap open, your hand darting to your shoulder only to find nothing there. You look back at Loki and he’s not at the barrier as you had thought, but still sitting in his chair. He raises a single brow.

“What did you do?” you question, suddenly slightly out of breath.

“What do you mean?” His voice lacks the coy nature you expected. ��I was helping you to relax.”

“Yes, but how did you…” Confused, you turn in your chair to look around. There’s no one in sight, not that you had thought there would be. You narrow your eyes back to him before considering the barrier. You analyze it from your seat, looking for any sort of damage or crack or any kind of vulnerability at all, but can see none. “I thought your magic is contained to your cell, that it can’t reach outside of the walls.”

“It is.” He squints and you can’t tell if he’s genuinely confused or if he’s simply playing you.

“Then how did I feel your hands on me?” There’s the smallest smirk playing at his lips.

“Is that who you were imagining? Were they my hands caressing your skin?” You tighten your robe around yourself and cross your arms, but do not answer. “Words and the mind are powerful things. Perhaps you simply felt what you wanted to feel.” He leans back in his armchair so comfortably. Was he right? He had vowed no trickery for your visits.

“If my mind is playing tricks on me, then I believe that’s a sign it’s time for me to retire.” You can’t seem to decide if you believe him or not, but it makes for an easy and safe exit. Going to bed and sleeping isn’t a bad idea at all right now.

“Then off you go,” he waves at you. “Perhaps your mind will add onto that little scenario as you drift off,” he suggests. “You’ll have to let me know how that little fantasy ends.” His little smirk widens as you turn away. Normally, you’d have a quick retort to throw back at him, but this time you can do nothing more than simply leave. Your body and mind are just a little too unstable, already missing the invisible contact of his touch.

~~~~~

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[imagine-loki]

Return

TITLE: Return CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Eight AUTHOR: theterrifyingtermite ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine that, at the end of Endgame, Loki comes back. Only one problem: this isn’t your Loki… RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: Gearing up to the moment that the entire fic was built around. (I’m so dramatic. I know.)

Chapter Eight:

One month, three weeks, and two days left.

She had officially reached a point of being uncomfortable – even though the quantity of spells should have prohibited it – and was officially permanently tired, finding herself today with a lingering headache.

Trying to do things the “normal,” human way was failing. Articles and books and any sort of information she could find really didn’t cover the whole ‘inter-species’ aspect of her life.

While Stephen and Wong were a great help, she figured that even their access to knowledge had a limit – though it would be emphatically denied if she questioned it out loud.

Still, she was thankful for them, as she was for the woman sitting down across from her.

“Here,” Christine smiled, passing over a mug of Pai Mu Tan tea, her own cold brew in her other hand.

She thanked her, wrapping her hands around the mug and breathing in the scent of it while willing away the ocular pain that had accompanied yesterday’s migraine and had followed her into the next day.

Christine had been one of the best things to come out of the situation. Busy as she was, there were texts; calls; and the occasional venture out for a visit, when she felt like braving the world.

Whatever she was willing to give, Christine was ready to accept. While they weren’t exceptionally close, it was good to have a female friend.

The fact that she was also a female doctor and a touch more understanding about her physical changes was a lovely plus, even if she didn’t know the process personally.

“Maybe someday,” she had teased the other woman gently, vaguely describing a certain (personally: obnoxious) wizard.

Flushing, Christine had muttered something impolite under her breath before the two women shared a laugh.

However, she cut herself off fairly quickly; the area of her midsection that felt as if it were cramping corrupted the sensation of joy rather unpleasantly.

She pushed aside the feeling though - it was probably only her body changing with the length of time required for growing this particular baby.

This mollified, she fell into their chatter for a few more minutes. But as the drowsiness of the afternoon wore on, she began to lose focus on the conversation, thoughts wandering elsewhere.

After a long, blank moment, she realized she was trembling.

Her head felt as if it were soaring heavenward.

Everything felt distant and clouded, and she squinted as the concerned face of Christine flickered in and out.

“We need to go, now,” was the insistent demand that she was finally able to understand.

Aware enough, she nodded and dragged herself to her feet, leaning heavily on Christine’s arm. Concerned voices whirled around her, repeating something about a doctor; getting a doctor, but the other woman was insistent about her career. She’d get her to her hospital; everything would be fine.

They turned, and she was suddenly accosted by the feeling of tightness coming from her lower back.

“Christine,” was all she could whimper out, free arm curling tightly around her stomach as the pain behind her eyes grew with every step.

Focus. She needed to focus.

She could hardly see straight.

Christine was talking on her phone; she could see a swirl of light open before them.

Loki?

Hope flared.

But no; it led to the base of a vast stairwell, and an open, wooded lobby sort of area.

Another voice, deeper than Christine’s rumbled in her ear.

“One more stop; come along now.”

The overwhelming, sterile scent of a hospital reached her as hands slid around her shoulders and knees. She was lifted and carried through another portal.

For a moment, she thought she heard his voice, but no; it couldn’t have been him.

Then, at some point, she blinked her eyes open to find herself stretched out on a bed, to see Christine pulling over a machine, and to watch her prep an IV.

Christine caught her bleary gaze and smiled stiffly. 

“We’re going to do this my way while the guys see what they can do. We’re going to figure this out, okay?”

Managing a nod, she closed her eyes, feeling them well with tears even as she drifted off again.

She only wished he were here.

___

She didn’t remember the first twenty-four hours.

Thankfully, she was fully awake the next afternoon, listening as Christine explained what happened.

Preeclampsia.

Well, if not exactly that then something very similar to it.

It would explain the headaches, the dizziness, and the growing abdominal pain that had happened over the course of the week.

As much as they could understand, after months of spells and an unusual conception, her body had attempted to reject the infant.

The magic had been focused to contain the child and protect her system, not help it adjust to an “unnatural” pregnancy.

Even though Christine shushed her, rubbing her back gently, she shook.

There were things she could do in the normal way of medicine to help. Some medication, maybe, and bed rest were probably the two easiest to handle.

So long as the medicine didn’t counter-act with the magic. It was something they would have to take one step at a time.

Once she had calmed again, Christine laid out the plan that she and Stephen had constructed. She would stay here one more day and night; no one knew about it – no, don’t ask how; Stephen did something and Christine really didn’t want to know – and then in the morning she could go home, and they would get her settle for the last two-ish months.

At her nod, they got to work – comparing and testing, failing repeatedly, and then tentatively finding a balance.

Afternoon slipped into evening and finally they had it all sorted – and she slept.

One more night of monitoring, and then she would be home.

___

Stephen had whirled her away back home early in the morning, a list of orders from Christine held firmly in his hands.

He set her on the gliding recliner that had been gifted to her by Wong, made sure she was comfortable, and then ordered her not to move.

As she sat still, tucked up on a pillow and underneath a thick, fuzzy blanket he wove together some sort of shield around her.

Not that she understood everything he said when he went off on a technical rant, his PhD persona showing through in his explanations, but she nodded along anyway so he wouldn’t get snippy.

It was something to help keep the adapted spells in stasis until she was “Frost-Giant-full-term,” but she needed to keep still in it until the process was complete.

Easy enough.

Until she immediately jumped as a string of loud knocks broke through her concentration.

A sheepish smile to the long-suffering huff from the man, and he rushed through the last of what she needed to know.

“Obviously, this goes in line with what Christine told you. And you have your pills?” was what she thought he said next.

Another round of much more aggressive knocking echoed towards them, pulling her attention away from the wizard once more.

At her question of whom it might be, Stephen shrugged.

“Oh, well, we put up a ward around your house to prevent undesirable otherworldly activity.” His voice held the tone of pure nonchalance.

Gaping and unsure of what to say at first – a dozen thoughts, feelings, and questions stirred up inside her, until she decided she was highly displeased.

“We didn’t think you’d want to be bothered for a-“

“Go open the door, now,” she all but spit at him, angry, frustrated, relieved he hadn’t been willfully ignoring her. “Or so help me, I will get up and punch out some of your perfect teeth.”

A blink.

A glare.

More banging.

When she actually moved to toss away the blanket and wiggle out of the magical field, Stephen held up his hands, turning on his heels. “I’m going; I’m going! And then I’m leaving.

“Don’t move until that’s finished,” he grumbled, waving a hand over his shoulder and going on as he left about the time it would take to re-do it, so if she would be so kind as to let it finish…

She swore at his back, ignored his snide response, and slumped back into the chair.

There was yelling as soon as the back door was opened, and she found herself enjoying the tirade that Loki was directing towards Stephen. It cut off with a curse – no doubt the wizard had made a timely getaway – and then he was striding into the room, green eyes blazing with a fury not seen in months.

He stopped in front of her, taking a moment to scan the spell hovering around her before sneering at it, his hands clenching.

“How much longer is this going to take?”

She was unsure .

“Not long?” She offered with a shrug.

Loki scoffed, folding his hands behind his back and planting his feet in a defiant stance. “Right. Care to tell me why I am just heard about this? Thor got some sort of electronic mail communication from that other woman earlier today.”

She couldn’t help but smile at his careful pronunciation. When he glared in response, she shrugged. “I thought you might have been avoiding me.”

His face twisted, and she reached out – pausing before touching the magical shield. “I assumed they would tell you. It’s not like I could.”

At her words, the spell suddenly fizzled and dissipated in a puff of smoke. Quickly, Loki grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers through hers before she could withdraw.

He took a deep breath before speaking through gritted teeth, maintaining patience. “I made you a promise.”

“I know,” she admitted, tugging on his hand until he met her gaze. “I shouldn’t have doubted you. Now help me up; I want to sit with you.”

At his hesitance, she threw aside the blanket, claiming she would do it herself. Even if she was unevenly weighted at the moment, she wasn’t incapable.

It was enough provocation to get him moving.

“No, you will not,” he snapped at her, catching her other hand and pulling her up as she unfolded her legs.

He muttered under his breath about impertinence, stubbornness, and a slew of other rather rude things – but wrapped an arm securely around her waist to transfer her to the couch, so she decided to let it slide.

When they were both seated and facing each other, he glowered at her. “Do you have no self-preservation?”

“I didn’t ask for this to happen,” was his pert reminder as she crossed her legs as well as she could, huffing at the effort.

A shoulder hitched, but he persisted, even as he reached down to assist. “You should have told me you were feeling unwell.”

You should have been able to tell, is what her mind supplied. Words caught in her throat, and she stammered until she was able to formulate something less antagonistic.

“I…I didn’t want you to worry.”

An eyebrow quirked.

God of Mischief, king of lies.

“…he would have been able to tell. I wasn’t being fair.” She admitted this after a sigh, letting her chin drop and resting her gaze on their entwined hands.

He hummed quietly in response, thumb stroking over her hand.

And then, breaking the silence that followed:

“May I…the last time – I know I hurt you. But…may I see your memories again?”

When she hesitated, he held up his free hand in surrender. “You don’t have to. I only thought…well, I am willing to understand this time. And it may help me to know you better.

“Things are changing, and I…” There came a slump to his shoulders. “I want to do what I can to make it easier.”

Well, she couldn’t argue with his logic.

Just – after nearly a year and everything in it, revisiting her entire life with the other Loki didn’t seem quite as appealing.

Mentally steadying herself, she reached for his other hand, and he shifted closer, nearly looming over her until he bent down and his forehead rested against her own.

Her heartbeat had quickened; there was the tiniest flicker of fear, and then –

“Do you consent?” He asked her, his voice hushed in the stillness that had settled over the room.

A moment crept by.

She took in his tone, the gentle grip his hands held on hers, and the softness of his breath mingling with her own.

“I consent,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

Only then did she feel the warm brush of his consciousness.

“I trust you.”

___

At some point, she realized that she was no longer flitting her way through her memory with Loki.

She was dreaming.

It had been so peaceful this time and so gentle while wandering through the past few years remembering and sharing the bliss of days gone by. It shouldn’t be too surprising that this had happened.

Only…she had never dreamed of a place like this.

Mountains were in her direct line of sight. Massive, exaggerated heights that shimmered with the hint of snow at the peaks – even from the distance that she beheld them. And from them, gliding all the way to her, green as far as she could see.

There was grass all around her; it was lush and soft beneath her now bare feet. She wiggled her toes in it appreciatively, reveling in the sensation.

It was all more real than she had ever dreamed before.

Yet, something in her whispered that it couldn’t just be that.

For one, she had never seen a place like this nor pictures of it, anyway.

For another, it was far too temperate compared to the strong, summer days they were having.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply and listened. The air was clean and clear; it had a wild fragrance found only in the wilderness.

It also carried the breaking sound of waves.

An ocean?

She turned then, slanting a hand over her eyes against the light slipping through the cover of clouds. In the distance, she could see the edge of the cliff and the water flowing beyond its precipice.

And someone standing by it, facing out towards the sea.

Curious now, she began to move towards the figure, one hand tucking under her swollen middle; the other catching and re-tucking hair that blew around her eyes.

It was when she got closer that she quickened her step.

It was when he turned to face her, and he smiled – in such a familiar way – that the tears came.

It was when he held his hands out to her, coming to meet her, and she fell into his embrace that she finally gasped out his name.

“Loki.”

[alternativewinxcontinuity]

Bloom Peters in: The Haunted Mansion of Mirrors.

A test of courage goes wrong and Bloom finds herself in over her head when the house turns out to actually be haunted after all.

Genre: horror, mystery, AU (but in a canon divergence way) Characters: Bloom, Kiko, OC Witch, OC Wizard, Mitzi, Andy Warnings: mentions of blood, general horror elements, dangerous bike riding etiquette Word Count: 2,679

This story is in summary format.

Bloom Peters in: The Haunted Mansion of Mirrors.

-

In an Alternate Universe where the Trix didn't manage to waylay Stella on her way to Alfea, Bloom spends part of her summer miserable until she winds up running into her ex and his friends at a local juice bar at the same time as Mitzi.

Mizti is in the middle of telling her friends about a story she'd heard from someone who'd been working for her parents, who've decided to try their hand at house flipping. (Mitzi presents it as a 'hobby' like buying, renovating and selling houses is normal and just for funsies when you're 'as rich as her parents'.)

The story she relays is about an old manor on the edge of Gardenia which has been vacant for decades after the whole family was mysteriously murdered.

“Which is why the house is, like, super haunted.”

Bloom doesn't care for ghost stories and scoffs at the idea, but not quietly enough. Mitzi jumps at the chance to call Bloom a coward and say she wouldn't last a minute in the house before she'd run screaming for her parents.

Bloom denies the accusation and says if anyone were to run away scared, it would be Mitzi.

Before anyone else can think better of it, the group is caught up in the idea, and suddenly making plans to stay the night in the 'haunted' manor.

Bloom guiltily tells her parent she's going to a sleep over (with Selina, who's not actually back from her vacation yet, but her parents don't know that) and prepares supplies.

Not trusting Mitzi to not try something, Bloom prepares to stay awake all night long.

She packs her good flashlight, the heavy duty one she got for camping, some jerky type snacks and two bottles of water, a note book and pens for doodling (including several colours because boredom), and she makes sure her cell phone is fully charged.

Of course she takes a blanket and sleeping bag and pillow and sleep over snacks, because they're supposed to be staying all night, but she makes Kiko stay home, because taking him is sure to end badly.

(He stows away in her bag and doesn't reveal himself until she arrives at the house.)

Bloom rides her new bike, leaving super early to make it on time. Luckily she manages to cross paths with some of the other group members as they're leaving the city limits, and Bloom illegally and unsafely by hanging onto the care (with permission) and they drive the last stretch to the manor. Mitzi is already waiting for them at the gates with the rest of the group and lets Bloom and the others in.

Straight away Bloom gets some seriously bad vibes, the kind that make her skin prickle with icy needles and make her want to puke and run. When the pull up in front of the house in the spacious driveway area, Bloom almost refuses to get off her bike.

But Mitzi calls Bloom a coward who couldn't even make it into the house, and Bloom's pride gets the better of her. Andy tries to comfort Bloom, but she just can't shake the feeling of wrongness in the house.

As the group enters (Mitzi opening the house with a set of keys she didn't actually ask her parents permission to borrow,) Bloom notices some strange carvings in the wood of the houses porch, etchings that seem to buzz in Bloom's perception of the world, but Andy says he can't feel anything, so Bloom tells herself that she's just psyching herself out and tries to shrug it off, ignore the voice inside her screaming warning after warning as it waves red flags.

The group has enough time to set themselves up in the 'living room' of the manor's ground floor before the sun goes down. They're just about to start playing cards when Kiko reveals himself, in clear distress.

Bloom says she'll take Kiko outside to use the bathroom, angrily snapping at Mitzi when the later sneers that Bloom is “running away already,” since Bloom isn't running away, she's being a responsible pet owner.

Only the door at the front of the house won't open, even when Mitzi tries the keys.

Andy and friends offer to try and find an open window for Bloom to get out through so she can deal with Kiko's 'over excitement', but Bloom feels a sudden panic at the idea of splitting up.

She can't explain it, but she feels like the pressure inside the house is increasing even though no one else can sense anything, and Kiko keeps getting more stressed.

Right before the pressure peaks, Bloom sees a blood covered woman who isn't in the room in the mirror over the living room's fireplace mantle, she looks to be screaming “GET OUT” and Bloom spins to shield Kiko as the mirror explodes outwards. She ducks down to make herself as small a target as possible for the shards and tries not to hurl as the entire world feels like it's dividing itself apart.

Bloom hears the others scream, but then everything goes quiet as the pressure and dividing sensation stops.

Bloom looks up surprised, and sees a glowing sphere of energy dissipate around her, the rest of the room empty and the mirror intact.

The group's supplies are where they'd been seconds before, but there's no sign of the group itself.

In the mirror Bloom can see herself reflected, Kiko in her arms and the strange woman behind her.

Bloom freezes, scared, she realises the woman is saying something, but she can only make out two of the words:

“ ? ? Get ? Out”

Slowly Bloom turns, but the room behind her is empty, and when she turns back, so is the mirror. Scared and feeling so out of her depth Bloom gathers her things, and wishes she'd brought her baseball bat.

Kiko seems scared but far less distressed than before, so Bloom makes a choice: she needs to figure out what happened to her schoolmates (and ex boyfriend), and if some freaky blood covered lady in a mirror thinks Bloom is going to run away and leave them to whatever horrible fate she's got in store for them, then that lady is about to find out just how wrong she is!

Bloom and Kiko move further into the house, slowly going through the rooms looking for any kind of clue.

They don't find anything, except the former owners maybe had a mirror fetish, but Bloom manages to sketch out a rough map in her notebook and noticed some strange wall thicknesses.

Then through the house comes the sound of a mirror breaking, and Bloom and Kiko go to investigate.

A mirror in one of the old bedrooms had a crack that is slowly repairing itself, and on the floor, where there hadn't been earlier, lies a note.

The words are written in reverse but Bloom can figure them out easily:

In the white fire place, to the blue seashells

The house is large enough for three fireplaces, one made of white marble, one made of black, and one made of red brick, so figuring out which one the note is about is easy enough.

The duo go to investigate. It takes a little while, but Kiko hops into the fireplace itself and finds a loose plate of thick ceramic at the back, coloured to look like the marble around it.

The move the fake stone and reveal a small compartment with a little chest inside.

There's no key hole but it seems to be locked, until Bloom gets frustrated enough to say “open damn you” out loud to it, and the lid pops open.

Inside she finds a small compact mirror, an enamelled seashell, and a note written in a language she feels like she should be able to read.

Not sure what do with their discovery, the pair head upstairs to the room with the mirror that has a frame of blue seashells, certain that's what the note's second half was about. Once there Bloom quickly realises the enamelled seashell from the chest fits into an indent at the top of the mirror's frame.

Not sure how it will help, but out of ideas on how to find her friends, Bloom presses the enamelled shell into place, a spark of energy dances around her fingers and the compact mirror seems to hum. When she grabs the compact the sparkle of energy surged into it and a small blue shell appears on the compact's casing. As Bloom holds it close to the mirror, the surface distorts and Bloom realises there is now a room beyond the mirror.

Stealing themselves, Bloom and Kiko step through the mirror.

Across the next several hours, Bloom and Kiko traverse various warped versions of the manor (all accessed through different mirrors in the (different) house(s) like the blue seashell framed mirror) to find 'dolls' of Bloom's missing schoolmates. The house(s are)is riddled with various traps, almost like puzzles, but is leaving notes and clues and snippets of a story.

Bloom finds herself glad that Kiko stowed away as he's able to get into spaces she can't and retrieve objects she needs. She feels like she's in a puzzle based horror game, or a haunted escape room, but it feels almost as if there are two separate builders.

She finally gets the idea to try holding the note from the fireplace box up to a mirror, and even though the language isn't English, Bloom can read the note just fine.

And Bloom slowly begins to realise the blood covered woman isn't trying to stop Bloom, she's trying to help her. (she didn't say “get out!” she said “can you get them out?!”)

The note from the box tells her what she's walked into the middle of:

A witch with a strange power over mirrors, a wizard who found immortality and was corrupted by evil, a request by the legendary wizard Merlin to guard the corrupted wizard's prison until a way to kill him could be found.

The box note was a warning she didn't read until too late, warning against entering the mirror worlds, but it is centuries old, something has h since it was written.

Luckily, notes from the mirrors, from the witch, Bloom realises, fill in the rest:

A crack in the prison when an occult ritual decades prior had almost wrenched the witch out of the mirror, a crack that widened as she found herself bound to answer an inane summoning ritual, pulled to the mirrors of so many houses the prisoner was able to slip some of his power past the wards and infect the inhabitants of the house.

As Bloom gets closer to her goal, she is plagued by the ghostly and corrupted remnants of the wizard's previous victims, and realises the wizards influence is over taking the witch's, and it might be Bloom's fault. The wizard's puzzles and traps had been holding her friends hostage while the witch's blocked the way between the worlds within the mirror. In order to rescue her friends who'd been pulled into the mirror world prison, Bloom had slowly been undoing the outer layers of protection which kept the wizard trapped.

So Bloom sets out to make things right and finds herself deep inside the world of the mirrors where she come face to face with the witch at last.

The woman introduces herself as Mary, Witch of Mirrors and Liminal Spaces, the keeper of the mirror worlds.

Now that they can talk face to face, Mary is able to explain that Bloom protected herself against the wizard's powers with her own magic. (Which is why her friends had any hope of rescue, the compact mirror Bloom's been using to pass between worlds is the only way to unlock the door out of the mirror worlds.)

Over Bloom's protests, Mary tells Bloom that she holds an immense magic within herself that has lain dormant for most of her life, but it might be able to trap the wizard once more.

But they'll have to start from ground zero, all the way in.

As they travel, (bypassing traps designed to kill Mary and tear the prison apart without it's maker to repair it,) Mary explains the history of the wizard, Cocytus, one of a Circle of 5 incredibly powerful magical users who'd gained a form of immortality by perverting the power of the One Who Created the Universe, The Great Dragon.

Ironically, Phlegethon, the Fairy who'd been responsible for the perversion of power and the last member of the Circle left standing, had been the only member of the Circle that had been killed, somehow struck down by her own sister. The other four members had been sealed away before that, hidden in various Artefacts meant to trap them for eternity, but there was no perfect prison.

The small group of three manages to make it to the inner most part of the prison, and there they face off against Cocytus, who for a few moments inexplicably seems to think Bloom is the deceased Phlegethon who's tricked her way to the depths of the prison to free him.

Then he realises she's not when Bloom begins to help Mary layer in new prison wards, and in his rage (at being 'tricked', and since the prison is at its weakest) manages to break free for revenge.

Mary and Bloom do their best, even Kiko lending what aid he can in the form of ankle biting and splinter throwing, but they almost loose until Bloom experiences an almost out-of-body moment.

She hears an ancient and powerful roar, feels gentle arms around her even as an inferno of strength rages through her.

She finds herself transformed.

A presence at the back of her mind helps her, teaches her what to do and Bloom unleashes the Wrath of The Dragon upon Cocytus, stripping him of his unearned Spark of immortality and allowing Mary to finish him off once and for all.

In the aftermath, Bloom makes sure her missing schoolmates are unharmed, and Mary walks her out of the mirror world.

At the final doorway, Bloom realises Mary isn't coming with her, even though her task is over. Mary explains that she's covered in blood for a reason, she'd sustained mortal injuries in the normal world, and if she leaves the mirror she'll likely die without immediate magi-medical attention which Bloom doesn't have the knowledge or skills to provide.

But she tells Bloom to keep the compact, because Mary can go wherever it goes, since it's actually an ancient Artefact of her power.

Bloom hugs the woman goodbye, and she and Kiko leave the mirror world at last, heading downstairs to fix the formerly missing group before the sun rises.

The group wakes with the sense that something horrific had happened, but none of them remember what beyond vague nightmare like impressions, and they can't explain why Bloom looks so tired yet satisfied, but they all just want to get out of the house and are relieved to find the door is no longer (magically) locked.

Back at home Bloom comes clean to her parents about her adventure, and Mike and Vanessa come clean about the circumstances around Bloom's adoption.

Mary is able to fill in some gaps for them where the Magical Dimension is concerned, speaking through the compact mirror after being summoned by Bloom.

(Three calls of “Bloody Mary” and an aggravated witch appeared in the glass with a huff and a “really?”)

Bloom is grounded for a few weeks, but she takes that time to learn some things from Mary, though Mary is a witch, not a fairy and thus can't teach Bloom everything she needs to know about magic.

In the wake of her adventure, since she has no way to contact let alone explore the Magical Dimension, Bloom wonders about other haunted houses and 'cursed' places around the world, and once her grounding is up, she convinces her parents to let her go tour a few haunted places.

She runs into a few more cases of actual magic, but with Mary's help and her own growing skills, Bloom manages to become her generations top paranormal investigator and exorcist.

[neoarchipelago]

Bridegroom's oak tree (John wick x reader part two)

A/N: here's the final part! This was long and complicated guys but hey ! Hope you guys enjoy it.

Request by: @cynic-spirit (request in the first part)

Part one

Word count : 3 983

Warnings: blood? 

___________

John arrived home, dropping his jacket on the couch. He reached for the bar, and served himself a glass of bourbon. He sipped on his cup thinking about the letter. Should he read it? Should he open up a past hope that he had long ago buried away?  The cup in his hand he walked up the stairs to his office. He walked in, closing the door behind him, and sat down on his leather office chair. He sipped on his cup again. Looking down at the letter on his desk. He sighed, putting down his cup, and finally holding up the letter into his hand. 

He finally decided himself and opened the letter. He read it, a small smile on his lips. Klaus had kept his word until the last day on the job. He had sent him the letter that finally answered his and another one telling him his goodbyes, wishing him as much happiness as he had since John had helped him. He had, in post scriptum, told him that the beautiful lady who answered him also lived in New York and that the tree had finally worked his full magic. John smirked, and started to read the other letter, in a beautiful black lettering. It was clean, perfectly written, in a very poetic style. His eyes scanned the letter a few times before looking at the signature. 

(Y/n) (y/l/n). The name sounded sweet. He thought for a minute about his next move. This woman had recently answered him, she must be interested. But was John as interested as before? Was he willing to go look for this girl, and how would things go? After all his life had changed and the risk of having someone in your life was even bigger than before. He had been willing to fall for someone before, taking all the chances he had and protect the woman who was willing to share his life. His life had already been dangerous but he was the Baba yaga. John leaned back on his chair and thought for a minute. 

His curiosity was killing him, he felt like he needed to at least see the girl who had picked his letter. All he needed, was to find a girl with that name in New York. It shouldn't be too hard after all for the Mafia's Boss. 

________

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. You felt lost in this man's eyes and the way he looked at you. He seemed to look through you, a protective look on his face yet severe. 

"It's me." He said in a smirk. 

He seemed older than you, but it only made him even more attractive. His cologne made you want to let yourself drop into his arms, and you mentally cursed at your weakness. After all you didn't even know that man! 

"I-I..I didn't think anyone… would answer actually." You said shyly, trying to control your heart rate. 

"Me neither to be honest." He spoke, his voice sending shivers down your spine. 

Curiosity peaked, however, at his words. You looked at him with a confused look. 

"Why wouldn't anyone answer your letter? It was beautiful, and perfectly witten." You said, your shyness flying away. 

___________

John had finally been able to find the woman who had wrote him a letter. He has sent his men through New York and ordered them to find her, but in total discretion. She had been the most wanted girl in town for 24 h before John had finally found her. She was a teacher in a suburban high school and he had access to her work application. The picture made him smile, he had seen beautiful woman who had tried real hard to become pretty but this woman looked like a goddess effortlessly. Had he been this lucky? 

John had been awake throughout the following night, pacing back and forth in his house. Was he to just go see her? Was she sincere in the letter, and would she be interested in him? How would she react to him being a mafia lord? No. This was much further into the future. No point in thinking about it so soon. John made up his mind as the hour of sunrise came near. He was going to go see her. 

It had been exactly what he'd done. The next day he decided to show up at her school and talk to her. He waited for the classes to be over before going to her classroom. He froze at the entrance as he reached the open door. You were there, softly singing a tune, swaying your hips as you walked in between the desks. When he had knocked on the door and saw the shocked look on your face he felt guilty to interrupt such a peaceful moment. He was rewarded by your beautiful (e/c) eyes staring at him and then looking away as you blushed. 

Maybe was it that attraction a predator had towards his prey that made him walk forward as you both spoke a few words. Watching intensely as he could feel your shyness but also your curiosity towards him. The kind smile you harboured made him want to do anything so it would never go away. John felt attracted to you, feeling some weird need to wrap his arms around you and keep you safe. And then you had questioned him. He thought your confused expression was absolutely adorable as you asked him why didn't he thought his letter would be answered. As you complimented it. 

"How about I tell you, as we get coffee?" He asked.

He worried to have gone too fast as you quickly looked panicked, but quickly relaxed at your answer with a soft smile. 

"Oh yes! I just have to quickly grab all those tests and get my things, I apologise i'll be quick!" You had said in a hurried voice, already running around trying to grab all the papers. 

John smirked at you as he watched your body sway through the classroom, patiently waiting. 

____________

You were getting ready for dinner, spinning around in front of your bedroom mirror. You and John had been seeing each other for four weeks now, you had exchanged numbers and talked almost all day long. You were delighted to find out your common love for books and dogs. John was such a gentleman with you. The thought made you blush. You remembered your first coffee and diner, the way he looked at you protectively, as if you were the most precious thing he had. You liked the way he looked serious yet had such a great humour. It was impossible to deny the attraction you felt towards him, physically and mentally. 

You smoothed out your little red dress that almost reached your knees, and took a last glance at the mirror before walking out of your room. You took your phone and smiled at John's text. He was already waiting for you downstairs. You hurried up, grabbing your bag on the way out. You walked down the stairs of your apartment building, a small smile on your lips. You felt lucky to find a man like John, who you enjoyed spending time with and felt connected to.

You reached the door and pulled it open, revealing your prince charming and his mustang. But this time was different. You watched as John was on the phone, clearly looking angry. He was speaking in what you assumed was Russian, since he told you that he came from Belarus. You slowly walked up to him, leaving a certain space between you two, allowing him to keep a bit of privacy. You had already seen John angry when he sometimes talked about his business which you still didn't really know about. But this time he looked furious, almost, murderous. 

You watched him pace slowly next to his car as he spoke darkly into the phone. It should have scared you, the way he looked so dangerous, but a small shiver ran down your spine and all you wanted was to jump into his arms. Yes, you were intoxicated, the man had you wrapped around his little finger. 

Your breath hitched as he suddenly stopped in front of you, looking at you with the darkest gaze you ever seen him give you. You felt captivated by his eyes, like a doe in front of headlights. His dark voice still angrily spoke in russian but this time with a much deeper tone. The frown he harboured made you want to run to him but you were frozen in place. 

He finally hung up, his eyes never leaving you. He walked up to you slowly as you swallowed hard, looking up at him. 

"Is there something wrong John?" You asked in a small worried voice. 

He sighed looking at you, and shook his head. His arms wrapped themselves around you, pulling you in. You gladly accepted the embrace you had been craving as you close your eyes, letting your hands rest on his chest. You felt him press his lips on top of your head as you hummed his cologne, feeling safer than ever in the man's powerful arms. 

"Nothing darling. Just work." John's raspy voice rang, as you felt the vibrations in his chest. 

He pulled away, a small smirk on his lips as you smiled brightly at him. His eyes roamed over you and you could see his gaze shift to a much darker one. You felt your temperature rise just from the look he gave you. He opened the passenger door of his car, his arm still around your waist protectively. His eyes never left you as you sat down on the seat and he walked to the other side of the car, sitting in the driver's seat. 

You were headed to a restaurant John had chosen for you tonight. You had ended up taking turns in choosing your next dinner, coffee or date location but John had called you this morning, apologising, and asking you to let him choose a place this one time. You had complied not really minding, after all, all you wanted was to see John. 

"I'm sorry you had to see this (y/n), I… hope I didn't scare you." John said, making you look at him. 

He kept his eyes on the road, but let his hand reach yours. You squeezed it softly reassuring him.

"It's perfectly fine. I'm not scared of you John." You said in a soft tone. 

You could almost see his body lose some tension as your words reached him. Why would you be afraid of him? That was such a silly thought. Well John was maybe a scary looking man, but you did not feel scared of him one second. You watched the landscape as he retrieved his hand. Something felt off tonight. John was tensed, clearly angry at something, but you figured it out it couldn't be against you since every time his eyes fell on you his expression softened. 

You finally reached your location, a beautiful fancy restaurant. It was crowded, another thing that surprised you since John didn't really like crowded places. While you were lost in thoughts John had already reached your side and opened the car door for you. You stepped out, being careful not to trip with your black heels. You immediately felt John's arm around your waist again. Yes something was off. He had always been protective of you as if he was afraid something would make you vanish at any moment, but tonight he didn't even try to hide it. 

You still leaned into him walking inside the restaurant. The place was beautiful, soft classical music played in the back and everything looked… expensive. You reached the entrance and the waiter smiled at you two. 

"Mr Wick, please follow me to your table." The man said. 

You walked behind the waiter, intertwining your fingers with John's, trying to relieve some of the tension you could still feel. You finally reached a table, in the back of the restaurant, further away from any other table. It was set for two, and was clearly big enough for six. You notice the two chairs had been placed close to each other instead of in front of each other. 

You walked to your seat, John helping you with your chair as you whispered a small 'thank you' while furiously blushing. The waiter didn't wait long to leave, leaving you and John alone at the table. You could still see something was bothering him, and you could keep it together anymore. 

"John…" you called softly. 

He turned to you, looking at you intensely. Even if his expression softened, he still looked worried. 

"What's going on?" You whispered, knowing he heard you clearly. 

He took a sharp breath looking around first before letting his eyes fall on you again, his eyes locking with yours. 

"Look… (y/n)... I need to ask you something very important. It might sound extremely weird though." He spoke, his voice low and deep, making you lean closer to him. 

"Ask me then." You answered in a playful tone, trying to light up the mood. 

John smirked at you for a second before his serious expression fell back into place. 

"I want to take you home tonight." He said, looking directly into your eyes. 

You stared at him, feeling yourself blush at the idea. You were unable to say anything for a few seconds, your mind racing over the idea and possibilities. 

"I just need you to stay at my house tonight. You don't have to sleep with me. Just… come home with me tonight." John spoke quickly again.

Now confusion settled in. He wasn't trying to move your relationship to a new level he was trying to keep an eye on you. You didn't feel angry at him, simply confused. 

"But… why?" You asked, frowning a bit.

John sighed again. 

"It's.. complicated. I swear I'll explain everything tomorrow… but please. I promise I won't force myself onto yo-" 

"I know you won't John!" You interrupted him.

He looked taken aback but didn't say anything. He simply looked at you, a small pleading look on his face. 

"(y/n) please…" 

You had never seen him like this. You wanted to know more, the truth, but you felt like you needed to accept the offer to reach that. You still tried one last time to make him speak.  

"Are you trying to protect me?" You asked, a small worried look on your face that made John slightly panic.

Of course he was. His reaction had told you everything you needed to know. You knew his business wasn't safe. Many times you had met and he had been hurt, cuts bruises and sometimes worse. He always played it off, joking about them, saying he took part in some sports combats. You clearly knew he lied to you, trying not to scare you. There was something more and the fear of discovering it was nothing compared to the fear of not knowing. 

"You are, aren't you?" You said again, in a lower voice, now clearly worried, not for you, but for John's safety. 

He had seemed to deal with a lot while he didn't took care of you and now he wanted to protect you too. You felt like you were a bother to him, risking his own safety because he wanted to take care of you. 

"Hey…(y/n) don't be scared, I'm not letting anyone touch you." John was now serious, his murderous gaze back again as he held your hand. 

"What about you John? I'm worried about you…" you whispered again, looking at him directly. 

He smiled, bringing your hand to his lips, kissing your fingers. 

"Don't worry about me darling. Just please, stay home with me tonight." He said in a softer tone. 

You quickly nodded breathing in and out, trying to control your anxiety. 

"Alright. I'll go with you. Can we just stop at my house to grab some stuff?" You asked, glad that there wasn't school for the next two days. 

John nodded while smirking at you. You finally saw him relax, and you did the same, finally being able to let go completely. There was still a lot to talk about, but you were patient, you'd wait. As long as you were both safe. However even if the night played on a bit more peacefully than it had started, something still felt off. A gut feeling perhaps that you should have listened to. 

Dinner went on smoothly, the conversation falling back smoothly in between you two. You had to be honest with yourself, you felt excited and relieved to be spending the night at John's house. 

When you finally walked out of the restaurant the night breeze made you shiver. You were glad that you were stopping at your house before going home with John. You mentally scolded yourself for not bringing a jacket with you.

The ride home was joyful. You and John talking about everything and anything, you playfully asking him to watch a movie with him tonight, as if it were a mere sleepover. John parked in front of your building, and just as fast as you had forgotten about it, the odd feeling came back. You felt something was off again. You both stepped out of the car, as you tried to push away that feeling, thinking about how silly you were acting. 

"I'm coming up with you (y/n)." John spoke behind you. 

You nodded, not wanting to discuss this, feeling like you would have asked him to come in anyway if he didn't propose. 

John walked closely behind you as you two walked up the stairs to your apartment. The feeling grew as you got closer and closer to your apartment. Maybe was it because John was with you? You shrugged it off again. Turning the key to open the door made your heart race, and you felt silly for feeling so nervous. You opened the door to a perfectly normal and peaceful apartment, exactly as you left it a few hours earlier. You sighed smiling up at John. 

"Make yourself comfortable I'll try to be quick" you said with a smile. 

John smiled back at you as he stood by the door. You quickly glanced back to your closed bedroom door, where you had to pick up some clothes. And then you froze. Closed? You hadn't closed your door before leaving your apartment. You never did. Your heart was pounding in your ears as you quickly spun around a panicked look on your face. John immediately noticed, and his face instantly changed. You slowly walked to your small kitchen table as you spoke, trying to keep your voice from shaking as the tears already stung your eyes. 

"Oh by the way, let me make you coffee first!" You said, surprised you managed to sound happy. 

As you started a John and John back at you you grabbed a pencil and some sticky notes you were thankful for forgetting on the kitchen table. You quickly wrote something, as John walked up to you. 

"Alright then, black with no sugar." 

John's voice was perfectly normal, a total contrast to his expression and attitude. The way he quickly picked up on the fact you two couldn't say anything suspicious only reassured the idea that his job wasn't so normal. He took the note in his hand and his expression changed one last time. The look he gave you made you shiver. It was terrifying. He looked around quickly before handing you back the note, while mouthing 'bathroom, lock yourself' to you. You nodded feeling utterly panicked as you walked to the bathroom as silently as you could. You heard John turn on your coffee machine behind you as you entered the room and locked the bathroom door. You were trying to keep your breathing down as you looked down at the note. 

'my bedroom door wasn't closed' 

You jumped as you heard the sound of things breaking. You took off your heels, and tried to stay as quiet as possible. You heard your front door open notifying you that more people were coming in and your blood ran cold. Your first thought was on John. You were petrified, unable to help him even if you wanted to. You managed to keep a bit of self control remembering how many times you've seen John all messed up but alive. You'd never thought you'd hope that the man you had fallen in love with, because yes you loved John, turned out to be a cold blooded killer, but right now that's all you hoped. You wanted him alive and safe. 

When gunshots ran through the apartment you let yourself fall down to your feet, finally letting your tears roam free. You still did everything to stay quite as you silently cried. It all suddenly stopped. You couldn't hear anything anymore but your heart pounding loudly in your ears. Your lungs burnt from the silent tears and the panic. You held your breath as you heard someone walk up to the bathroom door. 

"(y/n), it's me, please open the door." 

You let out a shaky breath as you heard John's voice through the door. You quickly stood and opened the door. You froze looking up at him. He was covered in blood and even if you hoped it wasn't his you still felt your stomach turn at the sight. You must have looked panicked again because he tried to soothe you.  

"Please.. darl-…(y/n), don't be afraid of me… I'll never hurt you." He spoke clearly sounding worried too. 

You stepped aside letting him walk into the room. He walked in making sure not to open the door too much and closing back behind so you wouldn't have to witness anything at all. He still stood by the door however, not trying to reach up to you. 

"Are you going to tell me?" You asked your voice shaking from the tears. 

It clearly broke John to see you like this, and you knew you weren't afraid of him, you weren't angry at him. You just needed the truth. 

"I'm the head of the mafia (y/n). Those man learned about you… about… what I felt for you and… you became a target." 

You finally understood the recent events as he spoke. 

"I tried to keep you safe, you're everything to me… I'm sorry, I told you they wouldn't touch you." John sighed closing his eyes tiredly before opening them again. 

You were trying to process everything, of course you had been suspicious of something like this. You were surprised to felt fine towards the revelation. Actually at the moment you only felt relieved that John stood there alive. 

"They didn't touch me John." Your voice sounded a bit calmer as you tried to speak.

He looked up at you, a bit of hope in his eyes. 

"How do you feel about me then John?" You whispered looking at him. 

His eyes stared into yours as his deep voice let you hear the only words you needed to hear. 

"I love you." 

You threw yourself at him, kissing him deeply. The taste of his tongue making you melt, his strong arms around you making you feel safe. You only pulled away to whisper the only words he needed to hear. 

"I love you too. Don't you dare let me go John." 

John groaned as he spoke again, his dark eyes staring into your (e/c) colored ones.

"No fuckin way. You're mine nobody's laying a finger on you baby girl." 

You let yourself go entirely, you felt safe. Your thoughts wandered back to the Bridegroom's oak tree and you smiled. It must have been magic. 

____

Tags: @thatbemyhouse @magdazwolska

[razorblade180]

Lasting Embers pt14: Training Day pt2

[Atlas SDC headquarter CEO office]

*A man in his early thirties wearing a business suit in the Schnee family colors sits at his desk writing. His hair swooped back and cleanly shaven. Pretty in shape, like a bulkier Neptune*

Secretary:*creaking open door* Whitley, your special guest has arrived.

Whitley:Thank you Julia; please send her in.

*a women with black leather pants and dark combat boots walks in. Zipped up black jacket jacket and wearing aviators; gold trim on the seams of her clothes. Not to mention a ridiculously long auburn ponytail*

Whitley:Hey Illia, how’s the weather treating you?

Illia:Cold as usual *removes glasses* I see you’re on a first name basis with your secretary now; about time.

Whitley:*smirks and stops writing* You haven’t changed since your last visit. You’re a bit late; stop by lunch areas to flirt with my cook again? She’s been talking about you.

Illia:*sits on his desk* Can you blame her? Anyways, I’m here on the usual business mostly. *lifts his chin and examines his face* you eating well? Any death threats or loss of sleep? Death by stress or malnutrition isn’t something I can protect you from.

Whitley:*chuckles* I’m fine, I’m fine *moving her hand* What about you?

Illia:Eh, the usual. Killing the bad guys and taking life a day at a time; all before anyone knows they’re in trouble. *puts a file on his desk* oh, there’s an assassination attempt on your life being planned by the way.

Whitley:Of course, another person mad I banned Faunus labor or is it more sister related? *opens folder to see faces of men in grey hoods and red veins near their eyes and hands* You think cult members would look more inconspicuous....

Illia:They’re currently in a warehouse a little ways up north of here. A splinter group that has their own way of trying to please “Salem the great and powerful” They obviously know about Weiss so....

Whitley:They’re going after her loved ones yada yada yada. She’s getting such an ear full when she comes back.

Illia:You think she’s okay?

Whitley:If you can survive our house then you can survive anything. So, how are you going to deal with these lot.

Illia:Don’t have to myself; I’ve been put in charge of training a newbie. This is no real threat so she went on ahead to despose of the problem. Shouldn’t take her too long.

*knock knock knock*

Whitley:That was fa-

Illia:*draws her weapon* too fast.... stay back.

[Warehouse]

*pretty vacant except for crates and blueprints everywhere. A table in the middle with four cloaked figures around it*

Thug 1: Are you sure this is gonna work? Like I get he’s not a huntsmen or anything but I heard this guy has taken down other people before us.

Thug 2:Idiot *flicking him* unlike the others we have an actual plan. We’ll strike right in the middle of traffic go rain bullets down from the building above.

Thug 3:Yee the boss left us in charge of this operation while he and two more go off and secure something else. Uhhh I forgot what kind of a play he was making.

Thug 4:*young women’s voice* Honestly why did I get stuck with you three? He said he was making a power play; rumor has it the branch of the cult is essentially history. That’s why he’s gone to hunt down the winter maiden. With access to the relic and the SDC fortune then he’s top dog. Rumor has it that the maiden might be somewhere hiding in Menagerie.

“Well isn’t that interesting news? Thanks for the info.”

*everyone reading their rifles*

Thug 1:Who said that!?

“Guns? Aren’t you for members of the Children of Salem; shouldn’t you be having grimm serve you with those gross veins of yours? Or did your boss not trust you enough to lend you some”

Thug 4:Show yourself!!! If you think hiding in the shadows can-

*a chain flies out and wraps the gun. Pulling it to the side and shooting the first thug right through the chest*

Thug 2:Shit!!!! *freaking out* what the hell is going on!?

“The shadows are sort of my thing. I could show you my face sense I’m not allowed to leave survivors but.....I need practice.

Thug 3: Stop toying with us you crazy bitc-ugh! *blood dripping down the mouth*

*a chain out of the shadows with a metal tip finds its way into Thug 3*

“Cat got your tongue; or heart?” *reels his body into the darkness*

Thug 2: *dropping his gun* Okay we give up! We’ll tell you everything we know; I swear!

......

“When did your boss leave for Menagerie?”

Thug 4:Yesterday, by airship! I think a cargo one?

“Hmm I think I can catch up to that. Thanks for information.”

Thug 2:Are...are we good?

*chain wraps around both of them tying them up. A figure of a woman in her early twenties and wearing a similar outfit to Illia. However the seams are white to match her white tiger ears and dawns a black mask reminiscent of the white fang.*

“No, you’re far from good.”

*picks up the rifle*

•

Illia:*opens up the door quickly and jumps back to defend Whitley* State your name and- Weiss?

Weiss:*slightly taller and dressed more like her sister. Hair style like her mother yet somehow looking just like her normal self* Well that was one way to be welcomed home. I guess I should expect nothing less from-

Whitley:*runs up and hugs her* Hey dork, you look like mom.

Weiss:Ugh, you’re one to talk *hugs him tightly* I half expected you to be rocking a bushy mustache.

Whitley:When hell freezes over.

Weiss:Ooo do I have a story for you later. *chuckles*

Illia:If you’re here then does that mean... *scroll rings* Uhhh hello?

Blake:Hey stranger, you miss me?

Illia:.......*tearing up* Blake?

Blake:Who else? I know it’s been awhile but I’d at least thought you’d have my number saved. Just letting you know that I’m home; I’m finally home.

Illia:You’re already back in Menagerie!?

Blake:*sitting on top a palm tree looking into her house window* Yep, no one knows yet besides Adam’s family. *watching a certain monkey Faunus hard at work running her organization* that’s about to change though.

Illia:I didn’t realize he knew you were back. I came out to Atlas for nothing!?

Blake:No, he wasn’t home. His daughter said he was already going on another trip; he’s probably going through the same shock you are. Anyways just also calling to tell you that there’s probably gonna be a celebration when everyone realizes I’m back. As of now your job is to come home and relax with your old friend my sinister shadow.

Illia:*chuckles* As you wish High Leader Belladonna; save me some food. *hanging up* well better go get my recruit and- *scroll rings* speak of the devil. *answering* so how was your first solo op Sienna?

Sienna:*taking off her mask as she watches a warehouse burn. Her maple tan skin feeling the cold air as her short black hair catches the wind* I wish it was someone place warmer; had to heat myself up. Everything here is done but we sort of have to head to Menagerie right now.

Illia:Why do I have a feeling it’s for a different reason I want to go back?

Sienna:I’ll tell you on the ride there but uhh let’s keep this one extra off the books please? It involves my mom.... *wiping blood of her mask and chain* not that I’m too worried; her and Jael are tough. Just wish dad was there for sure.

[Jaune’s Yard]

Yujin:You’re mine! *swings her blade, barely missing Adam’s head* crap!

*abandons her sword to keep up the pressure with high speed jabs and kicks. Not giving him any room to breath*

Adam:*bobbing all her attacks as he tries to back up* interesting choice when fighting a superior opponent. Keeping the flow of a fight yours to maintain at the cost of your weapon. *catches a punch and knees in the gut*

Yujin:*cough* You know me, always coming up with ideas! *goes for rib shot but he dodges back*

Adam:Well points for- *aura discharges from her punch and knocks him back*

Yujin:Ha! *runs up and kicks off of him to send him either further back* (that should be enough distance....)

*picks up her sword and makes it glow an intense white. Flames emerge from hit*

Yujin:Here goes nothing..... *unleashes 3 slashes our pure white flames* sunslice....

Adam:*Smiling* Not bad...*moon slices through all three*

Yujin:Tsk *slices the oncoming attack* still not enough to out do yours huh? Okay...*switches to gauntlets*

Ruby:She’s pretty good with that sword; it’s almost her size yet she can swing it one handed. Almost reminds me of Qrow....

Jaune:Probably because everyone chimed in and told her about his moves. He might be gone but a bit of his flare isn’t.

Ruby:......*smiles* Good, that’s really good to know.

Yang:*soaking in the fight that’s in front of her. Seeing her daughter counter blade strikes with punches; displaying moves all too noticeable to her as her dad’s handy work*

Jaune:Enjoying the show?

*Yujin’s fist catching fire. Another aura filled punch scattering the flames as the embers dance around her. Not messing a step when avoiding Adam’s relentless bullets and cross slashes*

Yang:I wish....I wish I could’ve helped create this. *somber smile* look at our kid go; she’s in her element right now.

*Adam jumping over a sweep kicking and blocking an assault of jabs. Sparks flying off his sword*

Yang:And I didn’t help with any of it.... I feel a little bad.

Jaune:Are you kidding? Yang, you might not have been here but plenty recordings of your training days are. She won’t admit it but I know she’s watched every single one to be even remotely as good as you.

Yang:*shocked* Really?

Jaune:*Nodding* Yujin did everything she could to deny hand to hand combat; to be separated from you. No matter how hard she tried though she knew if she was gonna be huntress that eventually she’d have to come to terms with you have a legacy with rich insight. To be a little more like herself she’d swallowed her pride, and started acting a little more like you.

Ruby:Makes sense; she looked very angry fighting you hand to hand but also a little thrill. If I had to guess I’d say it was probably because she finally got to see where she stood.

Yujin: *Jumping back for distance, trying to catch her breath* Come on Adam, *huff* my mom tire you out. (shouldn’t be long now) no holding back *raises her gaurd*

Adam:*sword glowing* Says the one breathing deep. You’ve grown a lot Yujin; I’m proud. However, I think this might be your limit.

Yujin:Well let’s find out!! *bumps her first together and charges at him.*

Adam:This won’t kill you but it’s not gonna tickle *dashes towards him swinging his sword down at her*

Yujin:*smirks*

*a giant thumb erupts from the clash. Dirt and dust flying into the air as everything fall quiet*

Ruby:Huh....well would you look at that? Guess she has learned from you.

Yang:*jaw dropped in awe* You...you told her the story didn’t you?

Jaune:Maybe once or twice....*smiling*

Adam:*completely caught off gaurd, a familiar chill runs through him* .......heh this takes me back.

Yujin:*gripping his blade tightly before the impact. Her eyes shining bright lilac* Gotcha...

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  The Dark Curse

Chapter 109:  A Clever Guess

He was definitely going to get rid of her when they returned to the castle. The question was how.

Of course, even as he considered such a thing, the Seer rebelled against it, stressing that the girl was important to the future. She was exactly where she needed to be, the Seer hissed every time he imaged something new to do with her.

He didn't care. All it really meant to him was that he'd need to send her somewhere that he could have access to her. Or even somewhere that would be helpful. Perhaps he could make her a maid in King George's castle. He didn't like the idea of sending her to Regina, that gave her too much power. And he couldn't set her free because he was certain that she'd make her way back to her father and he wanted never to deal with that man again. Helpful or annoying, he had let his child go with barely a thought or argument. He didn't want him to align himself with such a being. Of course, the simplest of things to do would be just to jail her, but he found himself rejecting that idea. He didn't need her to be happy wherever she was, but he didn't want her discontent either. She liked books, perhaps there was some library that needed a maid, and she'd never even know that he'd placed her in such a wordy cage. Ironic since he felt like the pair of them were living in a wordless cage at the moment.

They were traveling faster than normal, but then so was the thief. He'd had the idea to track the wand's magic, but he continued to get readings from it only in varying degrees. Sometimes it moved quickly, other times it stopped entirely, sometimes it disappeared completely and reappeared in a place he didn't understand. The thief must have been using it. That was the only explanation for how quickly he was moving. It should have taken him a week to get to Nottingham. Instead, it had taken a matter of days and what days those had been for him and Belle. He wouldn't admit it, but he did regret taking the girl with him.

He didn't need anything more than his curse and magic, but she was more demanding. In her own defense she had made it a lot longer than he would have thought she would without eating, but eventually he'd barely been able to hear himself think over her stomach growling. He'd bought her food, water, had to stop several times a day for her to relieve her bladder behind a tree, though she never complained. She slept. That was perhaps the thing that surprised him the most. As darkness had come over them that first day she'd taken advantage of the seat she'd had, laid out upon it, and closed her eyes. He was almost certain she wouldn't actually go to sleep, but a few minutes later it was hard to deny that she was asleep. Her breath came out even and deep, and her eyes began to shift behind her lids.

He was jealous of her, of that ability to just fall asleep and let the mind drift away. He could do it as the Dark One, but he could count on one hand the number of times it had actually happened. Usually his mind was too filled with thoughts and ideas that didn't allow him that peace. And there were more than a few times that he'd closed his eyes to try and attempt to sleep and found the voices in his head grew, keeping him up. When he'd had Baelfire he'd been so new to this curse that he hadn't thought to miss sleep. Watching her now brought that jealous side out of him. It was one more reason he couldn't wait to get far away from her. He just wished he could decide what to do with her when all was said and done.

Not Regina's staff. There were several other royal families he could hand her over to, but if they knew who she was it might be counter-productive as they might attempt to return her to her father. He wondered if Jefferson needed a maid, or a nanny. He could pay for all her expenses…no, not after the last conversation they'd had ended the way it ended. Besides, Jefferson had proved himself weak enough to fall in love once, he could all too easily see it happening again with this little ball of mischief. Perhaps that library idea hadn't been so bad? Did the village have one? He'd never thought to check before. Hell, if it was the best option, he could build one himself! At least at the village he could keep track of her. And if she took the clasp on her cloak…

A summons interrupted his train of thought. Regina was calling him, summoning him to her side, probably to undo the spell he'd put on her, but he didn't dare move and leave the girl alone even with that clasp on. Regina would have to wait. She knew where to find him after all this was done.

His mind was wandering again as she sat opposite him for another day. He couldn't even remember how many they'd been together at this point. All he knew was that it had been a longer journey than he'd expected when he first departed with her. She was annoying when she was talking but just as annoying when she was silent. He could practically hear her yelling at him even when she didn't say a word and just left him to his magic.

Magic…as if that was helpful at the moment. He'd managed to track the wands magic over these last few days, but it was always erratic. He had the oddest feeling that the thief actually did know how to work the wand and was using it to his advantage, though, not very well. One thing was certain, he wasn't getting any better at using it over these days. At the moment, he could hardly track the magic. He got readings from this way and that. Though he sensed they were finally getting closer, there was no one direction that called to him. What was going on?

Help will be given to those who ask, the Seer whispered in his head. She could be nearly as annoying as the girl sometimes. Over the years, he thought he'd done a good job getting a handle on her riddles, but this was one that didn't make sense. Help…from who?! The trees? The horses? The carriage? Certainly, not the girl! She hadn't exactly been helpful the last time he'd asked her for help.

Help will be given to those who ask.

He sneered at her goading voice. Fine. But he was going to regret it. He didn't need the Seer to tell him that future.

"I'm losing track of him," he stated casually. "This forest is too thick!"

"Maybe we should return home," she suggested with sickening sweetness and feigned innocence. They'd had little conversation over these last few days, mostly because when they did, she continued to circle around to this suggestion. Had she not learned anything yet?

"What? And let the thief escape?" he questioned. "What would people think if I spared the life of someone who stole from me?"

"That there's actually a man hiding behind the beast," she argued, sitting forward.

He could have laughed. Women and their girlish fantasies! It was Zelena and that other maid all over again!

"There isn't!"

"Then why didn't you kill me when I freed the prisoner?"

"Ah…well I would have, but ah…good help these days is really hard to find!"

In the back of his head, a voice laughed at him and said something about his witty response saving the day. He ignored that voice, but only because he was suddenly caught up in his own thoughts.

Why hadn't he killed her? It was a fair question, one he hadn't considered until now. He'd certainly been angry enough to kill her, and he knew that he'd killed people for less. Why hadn't he thought to kill her? Well, there was the fact that she was going to be important in some unknown way that was stopping him…but even as he had the thought he knew this was something different. Why hadn't he killed her?

Revenge.

That was it. He was a vengeful person just as he was a murderous "beast" as she had called him. If he'd killed her then and there, it wouldn't have been half as entertaining as watching her suffer. Admittedly she didn't seem to be doing a lot of that at the moment, but she would. It would be satisfying then. At least that was what he told himself.

He shook the thought away as he suddenly heard horses in the distance probably along this very road. Horses but no hooves. Someone who was stopped. Perhaps they were who the Seer had wanted him to ask for help. Her timing could have been better.

"I think that you are not as dark as you want people to believe," she proclaimed unexpectedly. "I think that deep down, there's love in your heart and for something more than power."

He stared back at her. So this was it, was it? He was the ultimate dealmaker, and there was no mistake that what she was attempting to do was to make a deal with him. Not in anyway that mattered. Not one item for another or a service for another service. No, she was attempting to make a deal of emotions. If he turned back, then what he'd gain was the ability to "feel good" about himself. And to do it, she was attempting to appeal to his better side. The side that she was probably only betting on but did actually exist because deep down what he loved more than anything in the world was his son. But she didn't know that. And she didn't need to. Had she guessed or just gotten lucky? He didn't care. He wanted her hopes and dreams crushed.

He leaned forward slightly, meeting her there in the middle. "You're right. There is something I love…" Her eyes widened as she moved to sit closer, coming in to hear what she thought must have been a secret confession. "My things!" he shrieked, making her jump as he backed into his seat.

The horse's neigh was getting louder. They were coming up on the travelers.

Belle's expression shouted just as loudly at him now, her nostrils flared with anger as she sat back and narrowed her gaze.

"You really are as dark as people say," she scoffed at him.

He smirked. She'd merely had an unlucky guess then. His secrets were still safe. He'd like to keep it that way.

"Oh, darker, dearie!" he whispered as he sent a magical signal to the horses to stop. "Much darker!"

With the carriage stopped, he led the way and stepped out first, taking the bow with him. Thieves made names for themselves; perhaps the travelers would be able to tell him the thief's name or give him a list of who in the area was a threat.

His blood ran cold.

As he rushed Belle along, he took a glance at the men and realized he recognized one of them.

It was none other than the Sheriff of Nottingham.

[zenonaa]

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18444209

Comments: Commissioned by @matrioshka a while back. Thank you for your patience!

***

Aloysius Pennyworth came from a family of butlers. His father had been a butler, and his father’s father had been a butler, and so on, back through generations upon generations. Though Aloysius had admittedly been somewhat unruly in his early years, mixing with the wrong crowds and at one point getting acquitted of a double murder, he didn’t regret returning to his roots and dedicating the rest of his life to assisting others as a butler.

In any case, being a butler could be just as eventful as being a gang member, especially when one was the head butler of a fourteen year old billionaire.

The door to Byakuya Togami’s bedroom opened, leading into a space that could fit a bungalow inside of it. Such a large room was necessary, after all, as Byakuya required a place that could accommodate all of his possessions, like his piano, violin, pool table, king-sized bed, computers and books upon books upon books, just as a few examples. Everything was neatly arranged on a dark wood laminate flooring bordered by off-white walls. Byakuya’s mother had instructed that the room be furnished with warm hues and wooden accents, but the potted plant in one corner had been Aloysius’s idea. A nice splash of green.

On the other side of the room, Byakuya sat at his desk, and on hearing the door, he turned around on his swivel chair with his hands steepled. Aloysius approached, revealing his withered face to the other, and strode forward with his pale blue eyes fixed on Byakuya.

He stopped a short distance away.

“You wanted me?” asked Aloysius, holding his hands down in front of himself.

Byakuya gave a nod and turned his chair back around so he faced his computer again.

“I need you to sign up for an eBay account so I can buy something from it,” Byakuya told him.

Here lay a pause.

“e...Bay?” repeated Aloysius slowly, drawing his face into a frown that added more wrinkles. “I think I’ve heard of that. It’s a dating website, is it not?”

“What? No. It’s not.” Byakuya’s brow creased, and talking matter-of-factly, he explained, “It’s a website that deals with auctions and consumer to consumer sales. I wish to purchase something on the website that someone is selling.”

Aloysius raised his eyebrows a little.

“What is stopping you?” he asked.

Byakuya pursed his lips.

“Age,” he replied.

At his young age, barely in his teens, Byakuya had amassed a vast amount of money, not just from his family but from his own ventures too. It couldn’t, however, buy some things, such as years that he could add to his age right now so he could legally sign up to an American multinational corporation.

Aloysius studied Byakuya’s earnest face.

“This sounds important,” said Aloysius seriously. “What is it that you wish to buy?”

Byakuya didn’t hesitate for even a second.

“Genocider Syo’s scissors,” said Byakuya.

Ah, yes. That unidentified serial killer murdering all those men. Their scissors. Aloysius stooped down and pulled out his reading glasses from his shirt pocket. He put them on and squinted at the screen.

“You may need to assist me in signing up,” said Aloysius, resting a hand on the back of Byakuya’s chair.

“Fine. Let’s do it now, before someone else buys it,” Byakuya demanded, and Aloysius watched him open up the necessary tabs on his internet browser.

Now, Aloysius wasn’t the most tech-savvy person but he could work a computer, and he had an email address, though he let Byakuya fill in a form using Aloysius’s personal details. Besides, Byakuya could type faster anyway, and Byakuya only paused when he came to a box asking for a password for the account.

“You choose something,” said Aloysius. “I don’t think I will be using the site for myself, so it’s not important that I remember it.”

Byakuya flexed his fingers. A multitude of passwords were available, yet that abundance of choice made it harder to choose just one. He scraped his teeth against his lips in thought and after some deliberation, he typed in a certain star from a constellation, with various symbols and numbers thrown in that would only mean something to him... and Aloysius.

With a final click on the mouse, the page on the screen changed, now showing a lot less text, and Byakuya straightened up.

“You will have a confirmation email in your inbox,” Byakuya informed him. “You need to click a link in it. Then I can start using the account to shop.”

“I shall open it swiftly,” said Aloysius. He stepped back and asked, “Would you like a snack?”

“Coffee and kołacz,” said Byakuya, still facing his computer.

“As you wish.”

Aloysius bowed then left the room. Byakuya opened the tab with the auction page again and stared at the photograph of the scissors. There had been a few bids placed on it, but he planned to forego that tedious process and purchase them at a certain high price. After he bought them, all he had to do was wait for them to arrive.

And that he did.

They took four weeks to be delivered to this mansion. Not ‘his’. ‘This’. The Togami Conglomerate owned several around the world, of course, and the mansion he currently lived at was the one closest to his private school. While he waited for it, Byakuya went about his usual things. Attending classes, participating in extra lessons at home, reading through cold cases, playing on the stock market, attending meetings with other billionaires and listening to aspiring businessmen pitch him possible investments... the usual sort of thing.

Hearing someone rap on his door, Byakuya uttered a curt, “enter,” and the door to his room opened. Aloysius came in with a box. It was paper brown with a sticker slapped onto it.

“I assume that this is your order,” said Aloysius, walking over. “For the past week, I have had emails from the eBay website telling me to leave feedback. It has been quite persistent.”

Aloysius handed the package to Byakuya, who picked away at it until he got it open. He extracted the contents slowly. Swathed in thin layers of foam paper were the scissors, presumably, though he could only feel the general shape of them for now, and he pried the wrapping apart to get to what was inside.

His eyes widened a bit. They looked like scissors. Custom-made scissors, to be precise, with large, curved finger rests. At some point, they must have been cleaned, because there weren’t any blood stains on them. None that he could see, at least.

While Byakuya examined the scissors, Aloysius spoke again.

“I know I said that I doubted I would be using the website for myself, but I was looking at it today and there is a seller who stocks doilies enmasse that have taken my fancy,” confessed Aloysius.

Byakuya didn’t reply, still inspecting the scissors. Aloysius tilted his head to one side.

“Young master?” he said curiously.

“Capital P, Polaris, exclamation mark, hash, lower case B.T. comma, the number thirteen,” said Byakuya in monotone without lifting his gaze. He heard Aloyisus’s footfalls gradually recede until the door shut as Aloysius made his exit.

As for Byakuya, he leaned back in his chair and turned the scissors over in his hands.

Somewhere, in the world, was the original owner. A serial killer who eluded authorities, time and time again. Even the prestigious Kirigiri family of detectives failed to identify who Genocider was. Byakuya thought, if he had access to all the information that the police had about that killer, he would have been able to solve the mystery. Yet, despite being heir to the Togami family, he had been denied access, and when he made a request to his father, his father sent a message demanding that ‘the heir’ not waste time on such matters.

He stroked the scissors with his thumb gently, having only seen them before now in the photo on the seller’s page and in grainy images that he managed to obtain of the crime scene from the dark web.

G.S. was engraved into the upper blade of the scissors.

“Genocider Syo,” he said to himself quietly, and he promised himself that he would be the one to unmask the killer.

It would start with these scissors.

***

The scissors remained in his possession for the next several years. Most of the time, they stayed in a sliding drawer storage box with a matte laminate surface, black and sleek, which Aloysius bought him for one of his birthdays. When he pulled the scissors out, he would study them for a while, trying to imagine their owner. Some internet sleuths theorised that the killer was a ‘he’ and either a high school student or a college student, and they would post photographs of people they thought Syo could possibly be, some dead, some not.

All of them turned out to be wrong.

Byakuya found that out personally.

“Those ain’t mine!”

He flinched. The girl standing opposite him, a head shorter, pierced him with her bright eyes. She grinned as she waved the scissors bought all those years ago that turned out to be fake. Fraudulent. Counterfeit. Never having once belonged to Genocider Syo, or even a lesser known serial killer.

And this girl would know... after all, she was Genocider Syo.

Keeping to his word, and though it took him years, Byakuya learned the identity of the murderer dubbed Genocider Syo. However, the discovery had not turned out like he anticipated. He hadn’t expected to be locked up in a school with fourteen other students, and he hadn’t expected a visitor, a stuttering girl with owl-eye glasses, a shifty gaze and a hunched posture, to come into his room and tell him that she had an alter who was the person who had captured Byakuya’s attention for many, many, many hours.

Her coming to his room? Understandable. That girl followed him around everywhere. But to tell him that she shared a body with a serial killer? Even he felt like she wrenched a rug from beneath him.

The aforementioned alter stood in front of him and flicked her long tongue that always seemed to hang out of her mouth. She tossed the fake scissors that he presented to her over her shoulder. They landed on her bed.

Syo had shown off her actual scissors earlier, during the last trial orchestrated by their captor, an anthropomorphic bear, and she did so again now, taking a set from the leather pouch affixed to her thigh. Her eyes gleamed as she brandished the scissors, her scissors, a thumb and a finger tucked through the metal rings.

“I told you, but in case you don’t want to look up the exact quote, to summarise, all my scissors are handmade,” said Syo. She tipped her head to one side, leaving a beat of silence, and furrowed her brow. “Except the first set. I stole those from a store the same night I murdered that bit character in Shikoku, only for Gloomy to hide them. So I had to make my own from then on, right?”

Byakuya let her continue uninterrupted.

“I didn’t want to keep stealing them,” Syo explained, and she folded her arms over her chest, suddenly sombre. “I’d be like Bobby Leach, doing all that crazy shit and then slipping on an orange peel and dying. If I’m gonna hit the big house, it’ll be for murder, not for stealing, so I made my own, yeah? Like Akina Nakamori has her huskiness, I have my cute trademark too!”

A wide grin lit up her face and obnoxious laughter burst out of her. Byakuya’s eardrums twinged and he shot a glare at her. The first person she mentioned was a British stunt artist from the early twentieth century and the latter person, Byakuya didn’t know, but he assumed she was a celebrity. An idol or an actress. That kind of person.

He slowly pushed up his glasses, not breaking eye contact. After so long, he had Genocider Syo in front of him, and this opportunity to talk to her wouldn’t last. In this mutual killings scenario, there would only be one winner, and so she would perish along with the rest of their supposed classmates. Either she would be killed, or she would kill.

With this in mind, he had come to her room. She wouldn’t be able to get away with murdering him if he was killed here, where she would be the first suspect.

Well, she could still kill him, but he liked a little danger sometimes.

Byakuya just wished she would stop getting sidetracked.

“They’re fake, but those scissors you got are initialled... That’s real corny!” Syo threw her head back and laughed again, clutching her sides. When she flushed that out of her system, she fixed her eyes on him, smirking. “I didn’t come up with the name. Saw it in the papers first and it struck a chord. Until then, I didn’t have a name and had to use Gloomy’s.”

“The police were under the assumption that you were male,” Byakuya told her, watching as Syo swayed restlessly.

He wished she would keep still too. Everything about her gave him a headache.

“That’s because the police are morons, but can you blame them?” she said. “My parents and even the doctor who held me up like I was a cartoon lion when I was shit out of someone’s vagina thought I was a boy.”

She stopped rocking from side to side and eyed him.

“But Gloomy’s a girl, wouldn’t you say?” she added.

“Undeniably,” said Byakuya without having to think.

Syo studied him some more.

“Seems like you’re a real big fan of me,” she said. She raised her scissors, opened them, then shut them again. Her grin broadened, full of teeth. “I can imagine you bent over your desk, pictures of my work all around you, one of your hands on the edge of your desk and your other hand underneath it, blanking your blank!”

Byakuya felt a jolt. His chest clenched. This woman had no filter at all. He glowered and spoke through his teeth. “Whatever you’re insinuating is incorrect.”

“Never said it happened! Just that I can imagine it,” she chirped as she wiggled her chin at him. She smacked her hands onto her cheeks. “Gloomy’s not the only one with a boundless imagination! How about instead of this stuffy interview, we get to the chase! You want to know about my crimes? How about we reenact it? You would look so cute on my wall! I don’t normally do this, but I could even give you a BJ! It’s the stuff of fanfictions!”

His face grew hotter. “We will not do that at all,” he said, his voice cracking as he raised it despite his efforts to not show any heightened emotion around her.

Only she could get under his skin like that. Not even the mastermind managed it like Syo did. And oh how he hated it. The difference between Touko and Syo was stark. While Touko mumbled and fidgetted and had a passion for novels, romance and classics in particular, Syo squawked and danced about and seemed like the sort of person who spurned novels and drooled over trashy yaoi.

“Saving yourself for marriage?” she said, simpering, and she flumped back onto the bed. “Or did no one ever teach you how to get dirty? I guess because your dad’s seed got planted up your lady in a lab, he never learned. Bet he was a virgin.”

Byakuya hesitated. It was true that his mother had been artificially inseminated with his father’s sperm in a private Togami-owned clinic. This was something that he didn’t go around telling anyone, even her, as if that would have deterred her from her advances.

But she also used past tense, like he stopped being a virgin, or he died.

He pinched his lips together. Whatever. Most could have come to the same conclusion as her.

“You’re so hot even when you’re pulling faces!” she crowed in delight, and she drummed her heels against her bed. “Argh, do me do me do me, Byakuya-sama!”

Syo hugged herself, shuddering. He refused to dignify any of that. She settled down a bit. Her eyes flitted to him.

“You got any other questions for me, Byakuya-sama?” she asked.

“Why did you start killing people?” he said, peering over at her and not approaching the bed. “Your victims are all men. You said they were attractive, but is that really it?”

“Eh? Why does an artist paint? Why does a singer perform?” she retorted, like talking about the weather or something equally mundane. “Why does a sister dedicate herself to her twin sister even if she’ll get stabbed in the back or skewered by spears in the end? It’s a feeling. Passion.”

Byakuya tried to speak, to request her to elaborate, but Syo sat up and talked over him.

“Hey, hey. You’re an interviewer. A sexy interviewer, but an interviewer all the same, not a freaking psychiatrist,” she said firmly. “It’s who I am, okay? Some people are born with red hair, and some are like me, killers.”

Syo motioned toward herself. He stared at her.

“There is no one like you,” he told her plainly.

She didn’t react at first. Then she snorted and flailed happily.

“Aw, you’re making me blush! You’re overthinking it, Darling.” Syo steadied herself, and while she still grinned, there was an edge to it. “Listen, if I wanted to tell my life story, I’d go to that sister of yours, Shinaboo-boo the bear.”

He inhaled through his nose but otherwise betrayed nothing. To name his half-sister like that... a half-sister that he didn’t make public knowledge... how could she...?

“Though, she’d probably change some facts, right?” remarked Syo thoughtfully, tapping herself on the chin. “It’s not beneath her. Whatever it takes to uphold the family name. Skip over all the killing, and maybe not mention you being Polaris. Some people would get real mad, trust me.”

Byakuya widened his eyes and let slip a small gasp.

“How do you know that?” he asked. He never told anyone about that. He never would. Especially not someone he had only read about, otherwise a near stranger. A serial killer.

She laughed.

“Tell me!” he demanded, louder.

Syo laughed more, shaking, then tipped her head forward with that same, same grin.

“You think I’m in a glass case on display,” she said. It could have been a question, but he doubted she meant it to be one. “Maybe I am. And you can see in, but I can see out, y’know?”

“What?” he said heatedly, raising his fists. “I don’t have time for your inane metaphors. How do you know this about me?”

“You don’t remember?” she asked, and he really did not. She resumed her laughter and realising he wouldn’t get anything more out of her, he left her room, feeling like he knew less than he did before.

***

How she knew about what she said to him became clear within the next few weeks. Painfully clear. The whole Togami Conglomerate... had been wiped out. Murdered. Byakuya didn’t feel emotional loss from that. Never had. For people with families, he supposed, they might feel saddened, and while the conglomerate had his surname and people he shared DNA with, like his father, he didn’t consider any of them family. Just business associates. People would call him heartless for only being concerned that a group he considered strong, the strongest, had been annihilated, and not because his father begged for his life on live television before being shot by an imposter dressed as his biological son.

Byakuya’s fiancée put it best when the conversation once came up during lunch and Aoi Asahina asked him about his lack of emotion. He wasn’t the one who was heartless - everyone around him while he grew up had been.

At that point, Byakuya and his now soon-to-be wife hadn’t been dating. Back then, Byakuya wouldn’t have believed that he would plan to marry someone not chosen for him by someone else, like his mother had been chosen to marry his father because of Byakuya’s accomplishments. Had someone told him years ago that he would have chosen his own wife because he cared for her in a way that he, at the time, mocked and scoffed and considered to be a weakness beneath him, he would have blanked out their existence for the rest of his life as they clearly had nothing of worth to say.

How things changed.

He adjusted his tie, staring at his full length mirror, and heard the door open.

“There you are! I knew if I followed the scent of sex, I’d find you!” came a voice behind him.

His reflection grimaced.

And how some things didn’t change. He held in a sigh and looked over his shoulder. Just as expected, there was Syo, dressed in a satin purple nightdress. She sat down heavily on their bed, one leg crossed over the other, vibrating with energy.

Byakuya regarded her coolly.

“Is the stove on?” he asked.

“Dunno!” she said with a shrug. “Didn’t check. I think Gloomy was adding pepper to breakfast and got a whiff of it, or something. So here I am! Da, da, da!”

She threw out her arms, beaming.

It had probably been switched off then. Syo focused on him.

“What’s with the suit? It’s even sexier than usual,” she said playfully as she stretched out her legs.

He frowned and turned around completely to face her.

“Did you think to check the calendar? It’s the day of the wedding,” he said.

The amused glow on Syo’s face dimmed. Surely, she must have known. In the past, Syo and Touko hadn’t shared memories, but with support and therapy, they had learned to do something called co-fronting, or they could be aware of what was going on while the other fronted at the least.

“That thing,” she stated in monotone, and Byakuya had a suspicion that she had known the whole time. She forced herself to perk up, but it was like she had two lights in her and only one was turned on. “Why don’t we bail on that stuffy show and have some fun? Just you and me... and maybe Hiro-kun. God, you need to get hotter friends.”

His expression didn’t soften.

“I’m not skipping the wedding,” said Byakuya. “You know that.”

Syo groaned and flung her head back.

“Bor-ring!” she said loudly. “Weddings are boring!”

“I’m aware of your feelings, but you’re not getting married,” he said. “I’m marrying Touko.”

She kept her head angled back and pouted.

“You’re going to want me to switch out, aren’t you?” she asked, and he didn’t answer. Her head snapped forward and she beckoned to him with her hand, her lips twisted tightly. It could have been a smile, but Byakuya doubted it. “Well, if you give me a good fuck, I might consider it!”

He narrowed his eyes. “Syo.”

Her face sobered. She clicked her tongue and hunched her shoulders, turning her head away.

“I can see you’re not gonna be swayed,” she grumbled, and she slouched even more. “Ugh, you’re lucky that Gloomy loves you so much, because I’d have killed you by now otherwise.”

Byakuya inclined his head to one side. Syo’s eyes were averted away from him.

“You have claimed that you and her share feelings,” he noted. “But... I wonder, if that’s really it?”

She tensed, still not looking. “Eh?”

He cupped his chin.

“I’m wondering if you have come to care about Touko,” he said. Syo twitched and shot him a cold look.

“Care? Listen, I’ve never hated Gloomy, even though she barely tolerates me. Most of the time, she hated my guts...” She slapped a hand against her cheek, pretending to swoon, but she spoke harshly. “Oh, Genocider has killed my crush, oh woe, woe... Can I really be blamed though? I’m a ruthless stone cold killer! It’s like telling a baby not to cry!”

“You’ll probably find that a lot of people blame you,” he deadpanned.

Her brow quirked.

“You’re arguing back?” she said. His face didn’t quiver.

“I’m just saying,” he told her, and she lowered her gaze.

The room fell silent. Syo twiddled her thumbs, kicking her legs gently over the side of the bed. Seeing her like this, contemplative and reserved, reminded him more of Touko than of Syo, though Touko’s confidence had improved a lot since they first met. She hadn’t styled her hair this morning and it was unruly around her, not yet tamed into one or two braids, but her signature glasses sat on her nose.

Usually, Syo wasn’t hard to read, blurting any and all thoughts as they entered her head, but right now, Byakuya could only guess what thoughts passed through her mind as she stared intently into space.

“Tell me,” said Byakuya, watching her closely, “did you hate yourself?”

Syo blinked. Wavered. Looked at him. “What?”

“If you share emotions, such as your love for me, then when she hated you, did that mean you hated yourself?” asked Byakuya.

She looked away again. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Why not?”

“It just doesn’t!” Syo snarled, stomping a foot. Byakuya’s features gave a calm tremble like someone blew gently on his face. “I love being me! Why wouldn’t I?”

Her eyes blazed with an inner fire.

“Anyway, I thought I was the cute ditz!” Syo hissed, thrusting out her chin. “You’re getting sidetracked. I said I was going to let you get married. That’s what’s convenient, right? I’m sticking around for plot points, and then - ”

She trailed off. Some of her fervour ebbed away, and she balled her hands into fists.

Byakuya frowned.

“You know, you don’t have to be ashamed of caring for someone,” said Byakuya quietly.

Syo went slack, then cringed. Obviously, she heard what he said, but she abstained from answering him. That didn’t stop him from talking though.

“I was of a similar mind to you,” he told her. “I thought caring for someone was a weakness to be exploited...”

Byakuya walked over to her. He tucked his fingers under her chin and pushed up. Syo’s brow puckered as their eyes met.

“... but thanks to your alter, I know it doesn’t have to be that way,” he finished. “And I can’t say that you don’t get some strength from your feelings either. I heard that it gave you strength to back down from your chase of Monaka Towa, not just your love for me but your friendship with Naegi’s sister too.”

The tension in her face didn’t subside. Byakuya lowered his hand and stepped back. She touched her chin, feeling where he had held her. A faint blush dusted her cheeks.

“Tch,” clucked Syo, and she dropped her hand from her face. Very pointedly, she trained her eyes on her lap. “You’ve lost your edge, Darling.”

“Judging by your sudden meekness, I think I’ve still got it,” he said, feeling a smirk rise to his face.

“I should kill you,” she said in a light tone, still not making eye contact.

His eyes widened a bit.

“Do it,” he said, just as hushed.

With lightning reflexes, she whipped out a pair of scissors from the holster she still wore on her thigh. Before he could apprehend what was happening, she had him pinned to a wall and she held the blades of her scissors to his neck.

Byakuya breathed slowly, staring, and she stared back. With a tiny bit more pressure, she could nick him. Get him to bleed a little. Squirm.

Time crawled by. The scissors declined and eventually fell to her side without making a single mark on him. Syo aimed her gaze at his chest. Not at his eyes.

“Do you want to see the dress?” he asked casually, like she hadn’t tried to kill him. Because she hadn’t. They both knew that.

Syo gave a stiff nod and shrugged. He stepped past her and crossed over to the wardrobe, feeling her eyes burn into the back of his neck as opened it and revealed the dress. The white textured bodice had a sweetheart neckline with ruffled off-shoulder sleeves and a lace cape decorated with silhouettes of butterflies, and the same fabric as the cape was used for the outer layers of the skirts, reaching far enough to end at the feet.

“Western, eh...?” said Syo, craning her neck a little. “Just like in movies. I knew it. Gloomy’s so predictable.”

“Do you want to try it on?” he asked.

She recoiled. Hard. Jerked her head back.

“W-What?” she barked, and she couldn’t even pretend to laugh. Her shoulders shook like she was laughing though. “Aren’t you worried I’ll get blood on it? Though, it could do with a bit of colour, don’t you think?”

Syo ended her question with a grin. He didn’t reply, waiting for her to answer his offer properly, and she noticed. Her smile slid off.

“I told you, marriage ain’t my thing!” she huffed. “It’s Gloomy’s!”

Byakuya didn’t respond still. She rolled her eyes and exhaled loudly.

“Alright, I’ll humour you,” she groused. “Geez.”

Neither laughed though. He helped her into the dress and once it was on her, he stepped back and let her examine herself in the mirror. Syo didn’t speak, barely moving save for pushing back a bit of hair, adjusting her glasses, wringing her hands. Little restless fidgets like that. They shared the same body, but for the first time, Syo’s mannerisms were like that of Touko. For the first time, Syo looked like Touko.

“It’s girly...” Syo muttered.

“That’s your gender, isn’t it?” he said, unable to take his eyes off her.

“Hell if I know.”

Syo scrutinised her reflection for a while longer, strangely quiet, until finally she turned to Byakuya and hiked up her skirts. He knew what she was searching for, and indeed, she found the leather pouch of scissors like he expected, but then she fiddled and removed the pouch completely.

Then, stranger still, she held it out to him, as if she wanted him to -

“ - take them,” she said.

Byakuya peered at the pouch, at a loss for words.

“Listen,” said Syo, strengthening her grip. The pouch creaked in her hand. “A long time ago, I made a promise to Naegi. I said that I wouldn’t kill again if I could be with you. You’ve always been different, Darling. Gloomy has had her fair share of crushes on boys and girls, but you... her feelings go deep.”

Therefore, Syo’s ran deep.

“Like the chocolate coating at the bottom of a glass that held ice cream milkshake,” she added, whatever that meant, but Byakuya thought he understood.

She jiggled the pouch, as if reminding him to take them from her, but he didn’t budge.

“I mean, who can blame her?” said Syo, trying not to smile but failing. A thin one oozed out. “You’re fit. Hot. You’re really smart, but other times, you’re really dumb but it’s always in a cute way. You’re fun to tease, especially when you scowl, and...”

He grabbed her shoulder suddenly. Syo tensed, and before she had chance to process what was happening, he leaned in.

Her breathing suspended as he pecked her lips. Their glasses clacked together.

“If you just shared feelings with Touko, you wouldn’t have been able to say that,” he said as he straightened, feeling his face burn.

Unlike when she said lewd things, however, it wasn’t so bad this time. Syo had her own unique charm that excited him like no other, unpredictable and captivating even now. His heart skipped as he gazed at her.

“Also... thank you for taking care of Touko, all this time,” he said, hollowing his cheeks as he tried not to smile. He failed, much like she had.

She blinked, then laughed that grating laugh of hers and rubbed her knuckles against her eyes.

“Wow, you worried about stinking or something?” she said. “You’ve put on enough deodorant for both of us. It’s making my eyes sting.”

A snort escaped her.

“Yep, I definitely hate weddings. Too mushy. I think I’ll let Gloomy take over,” she said, almost babbling. “You shouldn’t see the bride in her dress before the wedding, you know. I better go take it off.”

Before he could reply, Syo hurried into the bathroom and shut the door behind herself. Byakuya stayed where he was.

There was a sneeze from inside.

“W-What’s going on?” asked Touko, rustling. “Why am I crying?”

Apparently, Syo had chosen to front by herself.

“You’re getting changed. Our friends should be here soon to do your makeup and hair,” he said calmly, used to having to fill in blanks for them.

“Oh, okay,” she said, faltering a bit, still confused. “Thank you, Darling.”

He smiled, adjusted his glasses and left the bedroom. Once through the door, he gave his eyes a quick wipe and headed for the stairs.

They had a wedding to prepare for, after all.

[merilly-chan]

About Ven wielding Missing Ache

I've seen many people analyze the newest KHUx update and it seems like more and more people are jumping on the "Ven is the evil traitor" train. While I cannot prove this theory wrong and won't attempt to do so either since such an endeavor would be futile with Nomura and how far the story currently is in JP, I want to present a few interpretations on why they chose Missing Ache for Ven. ●Ventus' name obviously means 'wind' and an attribute associated with it that he displays is speed. He's faster than Aqua and Terra and his attacks are also swift and agile. Since the new union leaders all seem to wield Keyblades which are available to the player so far, it is only natural that Ven should wield a Keyblade befitting his name and fighting style. Not to mention that the image for the gems needed for leveling up the Keyblade is a wing, which is often a sign for wind and speed. That leaves us with three Keyblades that are solely speed-based: Sleeping Lion, Lady Luck and Missing Ache. Sleeping Lion is a Keyblade mostly associated with Leon, Lady Luck is a Keyblade which has a tight connection to Wonderland and Missing Ache originates from 358/2 Days and can be wielded by Roxas and Xion. ●As you can see, Sleeping Lion and Lady Luck aren't the most optimal choices for a speed attribute Keyblade for Ven out of the three we have since his connection to either Wonderland as a Disney world or Leon is rather weak. On the other hand, his bond with Roxas is inevitably fairly strong due to Sora and he's even the reason Roxas looks the way he does. (Duh.) His heart may have even stayed with him for a while if the Ultimania is to be trusted. So Missing Ache is the best choice from a standpoint which simply associates his name/trait and his connection to the characters and the Keyblades. But does it mean he's necessarily the traitor? No. ●Missing Ache may be a mostly reverse medal Keyblade in KHUx but the reason for that could be fairly simple. It's a Days Keyblade. Roxas was part of Organization XIII during that time it could be acquired and regardless of his own tendency, it is connected to the villains of the series. So it is no surprise that they would choose Missing Ache as a Keyblade which focuses on reverse medals. (Of course KHUx plays before Days but it still has its debut in Days which was released before KHUx.) Wielding that Keyblade has nothing to do with the wielder's innate darkness as far as we know at this point, considering many other Keyblades also use reverse slots. We also can't forget that Roxas's base element is light and he is not exactly an antagonist either. Yet, he can still wield Missing Ache just the same without being a vicious villain. I also want to address another theory because I feel like some are 100% certain Ven is actually evil and a traitor. ●There is the distinct possibility that there is no traitor at all. The only evidence there is one is a missing page of the Book of Prophecies which was written by the Master of Masters. People are taking the contents of that book as face value as though there is no possibility at all that the MoM could have lied. The reason would be fairly simple here, too. It creates doubt. The first time the traitor was mentioned was already within the Foretellers-arc and it was one of the main reasons they started distrusting one another and fought against each other. It was one of the reasons the war even happened. But was there actually a traitor among them? We cannot know for sure because the only evidence is that book written by a single person who could have instigated the whole thing to cause a war and follow his own agenda by doing so. The same could be said about the new union leaders. How can we be sure that Strelitzia was murdered by one of them? It could have been a whole other person who murdered her for the sake of either obtaining the book from her and/or in order to plant someone else into their ranks. Possibly without them even being aware that they are being made a pawn. I won't dive further into this because it's pure speculation at this point and we know too little to think about motives or intentions. ●If there is a traitor, they may not be the villain. First of all, the word 'traitor' sounds negative at first but even Axel was also called a traitor for defecting from Organization XIII and then helped Sora in the end. The same could be assumed for KHUx. If we consider the MoM the villain who provided a rulebook to follow, anyone who would diverge from that path could be labeled as a traitor without them having bad intentions toward anyone in particular but rather trying to help 'the good side'. One such example would be Brain. He essentially said he will become the virus which will destroy the system. Virus also sounds relatively bad because we often automatically link it to diseases and computer viruses which steal information or otherwise damage the computer and in consequence us users. But it's a matter of perspective. Let's take an example of an older movie. In Independence Day, the aliens were the aggressors threatening Earth and its populace, and in order to bypass an inpenetrable barrier, they implanted a virus into their system and hence saved the Earth by destroying the attackers. In that case, a virus was used to achieve something good for the heroes, ensuring their survival. As you can see, what sounds negative at first can actually become positive depending on how you look at it. Who's to say the system that was created for them isn't evil and won't lead to disaster? What if the so-called traitor decides to betray the rulebook and the rest because it would have disastrous consequences to follow it? We can already see that this rulebook isn't all sunshine and rainbows and already lead to a conflict whether to follow it. I am personally not too inclined to trust the Master of Masters yet and anyone labeled a traitor in the book he wrote may actually fight for keeping everyone safe. (Without taking this "Darkness" fellow into account just yet.) I know some people are desperate for dark, gloomy tropes because they believe in the one-sided mindset that everything is always better and more profound when it's tragic, twisted and grim dark. But I personally don't see a viable reason to turn a ten year-old into an evil, psychotic kid just to have something become twisted and for the sole purpose of a short-lived shock value. Especially because many assume he would be acting of his own free will and with evil intent instead of being used. Character development only makes sense if there is a necessity and overthrowing a character we've known for 9 years into a complete opposite is, in my opinion, just a cheap method to create a pseudo-depth to a character who was fine to begin with. Of course there are a lot of blank spaces and we know too little about Ven before his memory loss to say he was the cinnamon roll he is in BBS and beyond. Naturally, there is a possibility that he could have a much more sinister nature. As I said, I'm not denying the possibility that those theories are true. But some of these speculations and interpretations are just as vague as mine are. Mainly because they focus a whole lot on Vanitas as well. Once again, I can't say he won't play a role. But it's also possible that fans are overanalyzing it. Vanitas was born out of the darkness of Ven's heart. So of course his nature will encompass what the series has established as emotions nurturing said darkness. But there is no precedence and therefore it's hard to clearly say that just because Vanitas exists the way he does that Ven has been less pure in the past. We have nothing to compare it to. Maybe the same would happen for most other characters as well if they would have their hearts divided. After all, the Heartless are also highly dangerous and are hearts consumed by darkness. We know that darkness exists in every heart except for those of the Princesses of Heart, so Ven is no exception. A person which only has access to the darkness of the heart would likely still only have that negativity to feed on, regardless of how big its part in the original heart was. I'm not trying to claim what is right and what is wrong. Nomura makes some unpredictable decisions at times so it's hard to say what will happen. I just wish that people will not cling to their theories too much or I fear the same will happen as with KH3. Theories are immensely interesting to me and I enjoy other fans' interpretations but depending on how much they work on it, the harder it becomes for some to let go of it and accept a different development due to headcanons and the subjective opinion that this development is for the better. (Which we won't know because we don't know Nomura's plans.) I'm not saying that people were only disappointed because their headcanons weren't fulfilled, but we can't deny that they tend to fuel our expectations for what we perceive to be the ideal development. KH3 does have major flaws, but I dare presume that some overly negative opinions are also caused by overblown expectations because we had plenty of time to come up with all manner of intricate plans. (Which are by no means worse, but sometimes not better either just because they're very detailed.) It's best to remain open for the idea that Ven may just be a cinnamon roll or that his role as a traitor isn't due to a vile motivation but simply to save his friends. I won't discourage anyone from preferring the other options, I'm just saying it might not be as shocking and character changing as some believe. Wanting friends doesn't mean he'll kill everyone just to get some, to put it drastically. I think it's great that people love Vanitas and want to include him more, but I also have to remind people that the backstory in the novel still isn't canon. Books cannot throw around canon and non-canon, sometimes even flat out contradicting, content and pick out whatever aids their case. Fans might not like to hear it, but even if Nomura should have mentioned certain aspects are canon, it doesn't mean everything else is. The moment a novel based on another source contradicts what is established in the source, it cannot be canon anymore. (And I'm not talking about content which fills holes and could have possibly happened/expands the story, but about serious contradictions.) Which doesn't mean that it doesn't contain things that actually happened but overall, it cannot be declared as canon as a whole. All in all, I'd like to present possibilities which provide harmless explanations why certain things are designed the way they are. There doesn't always have to be a dark secret and not every cheerful character needs to be corrupted for the angst-loving part of the fanbase. If people wish for that it is up to them. I won't deny them that pleasure. I just don't want to see anyone attacking Nomura if he doesn't cater to that headcanon. I know most of the people theorizing about this are perfectly harmless and aware of this and are just eager to explore all manner of interesting possibilities. Which is an admirable passion I am not against seeing. I actually think it's great that there are theories like these because they provide interesting material for discussions. I am just more careful about setting on one theory above any other, simply because KHUx has mostly given us questions instead of answers so far. Everything is possible at this point, which is why I want to remain open for as much as possible. The points above are not meant to disprove anything the other theories are suggesting. They are merely a showcase how certain terms can also be interpreted and that there are alternative explanations.

[mumofadaofficial-blog]

The Gap Filler

Firstly, a massive thank you to everyone that has read my first post! Your messages and comments have been overwhelming and you will never know how much it means to me to know that you all care enough to read our story - you guys are friggin amazing!! And I am so pleased to see that what I am doing seems to be helping or comforting others in some sort of way.

SO - last time I took you through Adas birth and getting her home. I touched very very briefly on the stressful time we had before Ada came off oxygen so I want to give you a run down on that. As traumatic as Adas entrance into the world was, life didn’t seem to get much easier for us and I think it almost completely fried my brain, but hey, we’re all crazy in one way or another right?!

Going back to KL hospital was an exstremely hard thing for me. The memories of what had happened there were still very fresh and very raw. Ultimately though, if it hadn’t of been for the team of people that initially worked on her, she wouldn’t be here today. So I sucked it up, put on my big girl pants and was ready to give it another chance. 

There was definitely a big difference to Norwich, mainly I would say communication issues that I’m hoping lessons have been learnt from now. From going through this I have realised that parents really need to be included and told what is happening every step of the way, something which I think can easily be overlooked. When your Childs life is in the hands of someone else you NEED to know what is happening. 

I don’t want to dwell too much on the things that were done wrong once we returned but it was a struggle and no parent should have to feel like they are battling with the providers of your Childs care - my advice would be to stand your ground, be strong, ask as many questions as you want and make sure you are happy with the answers and information given. 

I also think its important to remember that not all people take the same pride and care in their job as others do, so we always tried to make a point of thanking the people that went the extra mile for us. 

On the day that we were finally able to take Ada home we were not allowed to do so until she had undergone an MRI scan on her brain, we were told this was just routine. There wasn’t much explanation as to why. Instantly you think to yourself ‘omg, whats wrong?’ ‘Is there something wrong with her brain’ ‘is this routine or are they hiding something from me’ After doing research and asking questions, it is a routine thing to happen after a baby has been starved of oxygen at birth. Thankfully with Ada there was no signs of damage to her brain in the initial overview and this was then backed up by a specialist team at Nottingham (you still can’t stop your brain from thinking ‘what if?’ Whilst waiting to get those results back). After this she then had to have blood tests and a scan on her liver due to certain enzymes not being at an appropriate level. Without sounding thick, I didn’t even know what that meant and my head was just not processing anything properly. The information given to us on what would happen if it didn’t sort itself out was also very patchy. 

Now taking a new born home on oxygen is bloody tough, you find yourself confined to your bedroom or to the lounge, the rooms where we had the oxygen canisters. And you feel very restricted and trapped. So much so that I pretty much only went to my mum and dads or to Tesco if I was feeling super brave. Trying to get a baby out of the car is hard enough when you’ve never done it before, let alone having a back pack with oxygen in it too. Personally we felt that we couldn’t travel up north to see Nathans family as it would be too hard, so unfortunately people had to miss out. Trying to run a house when confined to those two rooms is very hard, that whole sleep whilst the baby sleeps is not even a real thing! When Ada was sleeping I wanted to do my washing, clean up, eat something or even just sit outside and have a coffee. Looking back, I wish I had relaxed a bit more and just thought fuck it! Those jobs were not going to please anyone but myself. Being easier on myself after having a c section would probably of been a better option and I shouldn’t of pushed myself to do so much when it was sometimes really hard to do so. Thankfully Nathan was a good team mate and I have lovely family and friends who all tried to keep me sane and help as much as possible in the process.

In order to assess how Ada was coping and trying to wean her off oxygen it meant having weekly 24hr assessments on an oxygen monitor at home. If you haven’t ever had any experience with one of these its a clever, annoying as shit, little machine that shows her oxygen saturation levels via a sensor on her foot. If they drop below 90 it makes the loudest most annoying bleep you’ve ever heard…great when you’ve just got her to sleep and shes moved and knocked her sensor off 🙄. They are used a lot on premature babies, however, Ada was a full term, strong bruiser of a baby who really enjoyed throwing her feet around and getting into massive strops! (I have absolutely no idea where she gets her attitude from?!) It soon became apparent that trying to get accurate readings from the machine with the amount of movement she was making was going to be hard. The machine would go back, data would be downloaded and the readings were not accurate enough due to movement. It felt like a constant ACCESS DENIED. Back to stage 1, which is really hard on your mental state and emotions when you are desperate to get your baby better. This would mean we would have to repeat the 24hr process and her oxygen level couldn’t be reduced, even though as her parents we knew she was ok and capable. I was left with no choice but to provide a written documentation of EVERY movement that made her sensor drop throughout the 24hr period, sometimes meaning I wouldn’t sleep just to be able to prove that she was doing well. We’re talking like mental person sending in four A4 pages of movements! This went on for weeks, the longer it went on, the stronger Ada was getting and the harder it was to get the readings. At the time she was also struggling with silent reflux which seemed to play up especially for us on the days she had her monitor on - thank god we have now found infant gaviscon!! 

As well as trying to cope with the oxygen there was a lot of different appointments at home, the hospital and doctors. Blood test for her liver enzymes again, health visitor, collecting oxygen monitor, hip scan, monitor again, physio, dropping monitor off, monitor again, dropping it off, another blood test, monitor again, health visitor, monitor again, immunisations, monitor again, physio, monitor again, consultant appointment, blood test, another hip scan, more immunisations, monitor again and physio - you get my drift and I’ve probably missed some out! Whilst all of these appointments were happening I was then having to chase for answers and information on the outcomes of all of these as the communication was very poor. But if you ask enough questions and make enough phone calls, eventually someone will answer you and you will find out what you need to know. Personally I don’t think it should have to be like that and it makes the situation a million times more stressful. But I do understand that staffing levels don’t always allow you to be the main concern and if your out of sight you can often be out of mind. 

Gradually throughout all of this and my crazy note writing Ada was weaned down off her oxygen one step at a time, then it was stopped in the daytime so she only had to go on it at night. 

Finally on the 27th of September we got the call that I had been longing to get! Adas consultant was happy for us to turn her oxygen off, completely! No messing around at night, no more changing plasters and making her face sore (making you feel like the worst person in the world), no more fighting to put her cannula up her nose and no more sleepless stressful nights with a monitor bleeping in your ear! I cried and then rang Nathan and cried a bit more, then I probably rang anyone else in my phone book that would answer, and you guessed it, cried some more. For once throughout this they were tears of happiness and relief. She had finally done it, our miracle baby had stuck her fingers up to the world and smashed it! In the words of the king that is George Michael ‘You got to have faith’ 😉 

Now, our only reason to go to the hospital is for extra immunisations against bronchiolitis, unpleasant, but better than her being hospitalised again or poorly. And for routine check ups with her consultant which will happen until Ada is 2. 

Deep breath for this part. 

The effect that this has had on me has been unreal, and although Ada is fighting fit it still isn’t easy. I was always quite ignorant to issues involving mental health and was one of those ‘just get on with it’ people. I’ve now realised that sometimes this just isn’t possible. When something in your life has been so traumatic and so stressful it can be really hard to deal with and process, my main concern was Ada and to worry about me later. It is also very easy for people to say ‘she’s fine now so don’t worry’ but you do (please don’t take offence if you have said this to me!).

Hiding your feelings and pretending everything is ok is not healthy for anyone, but to seek help was not something I was prepared to do until recently. I am by no means crazy, or a manic depressant but I do have my bad days. Days when things get to me and the stress takes over, flash backs, not being able to sleep because my brain won’t switch off, worrying that something will go wrong, being well and truly put off from having any more children, having to have full control of all situations, and for weeks, I fully blamed myself for what happened to Ada and believed that I should of known something was wrong and prevented the whole situation. I have felt in the past like I am not good enough, like I’m doing a shit job and like I can’t cope. I have struggled to speak about how I feel as I was worried I would be judged or people would think I was a shit mum or that I couldn’t look after Ada properly. I have also pushed help away as I feel compelled to be some sort of ‘super mum’ and that no one else should be doing my job. 

I still cannot talk about what happened without crying, and there isn’t a day go by when I don’t relive it at some point. I constantly look to see if Ada is developing as she should and is there any signs that something isn’t right, when I should just enjoy every moment. Living with me is probably a nightmare, Soz Nath, Mum and Dad - cheers for putting up with me 😘 Somedays I will snap at the smallest thing and overreact, whereas another day that same thing wouldn’t bother me in the slightest. 

I am a very private person when it comes to my feelings and I have always thought to show people the venerable side of me would make me seem weak, when in fact it does the opposite. From doing this and the responses I’ve had I now realise just how important it is to talk out and show everyone the old saying of ‘It’s ok not to be ok’. To write this down and tell you all what has happened is unbelievably difficult, yet very therapeutic and I strongly believe that if more people were to speak out about how they feel and the effect it has, then it wouldn’t be such a taboo subject. Because it most definitely shouldn’t be and anyone who says they haven’t had a full scale meltdown at some point is most probably lying to you. 

Ok, so might as well of just posted a naked picture of myself with the caption ‘HERE I AM’ after all that, but thats probably about as honest as you will find me. 

Amy x

[quarterfromcanon]

Breathless

Heather & Valencia - Femslash February - Day 19 - Rosé  [3,673 words]

They were nearly finished with their first glasses when Valencia circled to the topic of the wedding preparations that took over Heather’s house.

“So how's it going?” 

“All over the place. And also nowhere. It’s an avalanche of crap. There’s rare proof of results. I’m kinda worried about her.” Heather swirled the rosé and watched it settle back into stillness. “The venue’s hella pretty so I get wanting to have it there, but like, I’m reasonably sure moving things up this soon is a bad idea in all caps.”

“What she needs is a guidebook,” Valencia declared. “I had an entire binder.”

“Rebecca’s latest reference is some D.I.Y. wedding from Canada.” Heather polished off the remainder of her drink.

Valencia scoffed in dismissal. “Even those require more work than people realize.” 

“That’s what I said!”

“Plus, if the user who posted isn’t from anywhere near your hometown, then you can’t count on their resources to be applicable to you,” Valencia expounded. “Hell, if they’re from another country then I’m sure it’s even worse. They’ll have access to different shops and venues, not to mention the help of their families and friends. You can’t copy and paste their circumstances. It won’t come out the same. Guaranteed.”

“You gave all that a lot of thought,” Heather remarked.

“After a decade and a half with Josh, it was way more than thought. I had every piece in place except for the groom.” Valencia downed her wine and set it on a coaster. She shrugged. “Turns out, he didn’t paste so well, either. I still have the binder, though.”

“Really? You didn’t, like, burn it or throw it in the dumpster so you wouldn’t have to look at it again?”

“I was tempted,” Valencia conceded. “My hand was literally over the trash more than once, but I always kept myself from dropping the book. I did a lot of work rounding all that up, damn it. Why waste years of effort and attention to detail? Something useful ought to come out of what I went through. He could change my reality, but I didn’t want to let him take my dreams.”

“Good for you.” Heather raised her empty glass in approval.

“Can I show you everything?”

Heather freed her hands and adjusted her cardigan. “What’s that?”

“The binder,” Valencia clarified. “It’s still in my bedroom. Would you mind looking through it with me?”

Heather’s pulse quickened. The subject matter and the woman who wanted to discuss it struck her as a dangerous combination in light of recent overnight scenes from her subconscious. This was exactly what almost convinced her not to knock on Valencia’s door, but there was no retreat now. She could see how badly Valencia wanted to share what she had made. Heather didn’t have the will to deny her that wish. She traced the stem of the wine glass. “Yeah, we can do that. I’m game.”

Valencia disappeared through the open doorway. Heather accompanied her but stopped near the threshold. Valencia was already on her hands and knees beside the bed, rummaging underneath it. She faced opposite from the door and Heather was momentarily transfixed by the curve of her friend’s jeans. 

She averted her gaze, but the places it landed after that were not especially helpful distractions. Valencia’s mattress looked comfortable and warm in the patch of sunlight pouring through the shades. The picture they took together on Labor Day was at the edge of Valencia’s nightstand. Its presence made Heather’s heart skip a beat. She raced through a surprising number of thoughts in the span of seconds -- why that particular photo received a place of honor, why it was kept within view of where Valencia slept, what she might think or feel while looking at it -- but then Valencia’s words interrupted Heather’s reverie.

“Sorry,” Valencia apologized with a grunt. “It went too far last time. I shoved it against the wall.”

Heather blinked a very different mental picture from her mind and focused on the out-of-reach binder. “Do you want some help?”

“Yeah, go for it.” Valencia moved out of the way. She gestured for Heather to give it her best shot.

Heather joined Valencia on the floor and dropped onto her stomach. She crawled under the bed with her head tilted to the side and tried to extend her arm far enough to catch the spine of the binder between her fingers. Her duster caught on the metal of the frame. She had to pry herself from its clutches. Heather exhaled her vexation. “Hang on.”

She scooted in reverse, shed the cardigan, then resumed her pursuit of the elusive item.

“Almost... got it...”

“Girl, your entire back is out right now.”

Heather paused and realized she could feel the air of the room against a rather significant amount of skin. “I’ll get it in a minute.”

“It’s all right. I can fix that for you,” Valencia offered.

“I’ll be done in like two se--”

Heather’s eyes widened as Valencia’s fingers curled beside her rib cage to slide the shirt down where it belonged. When Valencia’s knuckles brushed her waist, Heather twitched involuntarily and bashed her ear against the underside of the bed. She hissed with a wince. 

“Shit.”

“Are you okay?”

Heather pressed her palm against the injured side of her head. “Yeah, I’m fine. I think I just figured something out, though.”

“What?”

Heather reemerged. She flipped to a seated position. “I’ve been coming at this from the wrong direction.” She propped herself up with her hands flat against the floor and put her legs under the mattress. Heather inched forward to gingerly search with the toes of her boots until they tapped against the binder. “Uh-huh. This’ll do the trick. Wait for it.”

Her shirt crept up her stomach as she strained to gain purchase. She couldn’t be certain because it was so fleeting, but Heather thought she saw Valencia’s gaze linger over her abs.

“Got it!” she announced. “So, now I’m just gonna...”

Heather crab-walked with the binder between her feet and finally brought it out of the shadows.

“Yay!” Valencia clapped. She hefted the tome into her arms. THE WEDDING BOOK was emblazoned across the front. She sat beside Heather and they leaned against the wall next to her closet. “Are you ready for this?”

Heather patted her thighs. “Put it here.”

They shared the weight of the book, half across Heather’s leg and the other on Valencia’s.

“Wow, it’s really heavy.” Heather lifted and lowered her kneecaps several times. “I could get a good workout with this. You weren’t kidding about having everything. I think you might be, like, the Tolstoy of wedding planners. That’s how many pages this thing has.”

Valencia laughed. “Well, I do like to be thorough.”

Heather licked her lips. She broke eye contact to look down at the first sheet. “Oh my god. Is that a table of contents? Wait, wait. Let me check the back. Yep, there’s an index, too. It’s a legit numbered and annotated book.”

Valencia elbowed her. She arched an eyebrow. “Are you finished commenting on my formatting?”

Heather hid a smile. “Take it away, Tolkien.”

Valencia rolled her eyes but her lips turned slightly at the corners. “So, the first few scans are actually before wedding prep begins. Layouts for engagement announcements, good locations for the accompanying photo shoot, recommended nearby photographers with their contact information, outfit inspo, and so on.”

Heather nodded and tried to concentrate on the assembled elements, but she was repeatedly drawn back to the person who had put it all together. Valencia spoke with obvious authority on the event. Bright enthusiasm came through in her voice. Her hands slid lovingly over every accumulated image and article of information. Heather herself had never so much as considered a style of dress, so she admittedly could not relate to the extensive construction of the fantasy. She hadn’t ruminated on post-nuptial domesticity, either, unless she counted the fictional scenario from her sleep that night during the Santa Ana winds (which she had been actively blocking out of her memory ever since). All that considered, however, the longing behind Valencia’s features caused a sympathetic pang in Heather just the same. 

Even though Valencia was over Josh, the fact remained that she wanted this. The gown, the veil, the ceremony and tradition of it, the gathering of loved ones, a devoted partner to share her life with -- it all brought her such audible and visible joy to imagine. Heather frowned. As they neared the end of the binder, she leaned her head against Valencia’s shoulder. The statement got caught in her mouth, slamming against deliberate resistance and uncertain implications, but the truth was more important than her insecurity. “I really hope you get your dream someday, V.” 

Valencia rested her cheek against Heather’s hair. “Thank you.” They remained that way for a brief while. Then Valencia closed the book with a resigned sigh. “Now that I’m looking at it with a new perspective, I think I’d probably scrap most of this. The vendor cards can stay, but the rest of it? Too much was for someone who’s not a factor anymore. Josh’s parents, his friends, his sisters... I knew they’d all be there determined to hate me, so the reception was where I was hoping to turn things around. It probably wouldn’t change their opinions much, but at least they’d be having a good time and not glaring from their tables. They’d end the night with fond memories, if nothing else. I’ll admit, the wedding itself was mostly for me, but you know what? I’m not a factor anymore, either. Or, at least, who I used to be isn’t. I’m... different. But maybe that’s not so bad.”

She looked down at Heather, who lifted her head and froze when they locked eyes. Valencia studied her vulnerable expression and became suddenly apologetic.

“I’m sorry. I completely dampened the mood. I was supposed to be helping you get away from weddings, not bringing them to you. Can I get you more wine?”

Heather concealed her disappointment with a forced smile. “Sure. That sounds great.”

“Awesome. Come on.” Valencia departed in the direction of their abandoned glasses. Heather uncomfortably shifted to cross her thighs. She took a deep breath and stood to follow her host. Though it happened without a conscious decision, Heather’s head turned for a parting glance at the bed before she left the room. She internally berated herself for that.

___

“Your ear is bleeding.”

“Huh?”

“Right there.” 

Valencia tried to point but her depth perception was no longer trustworthy. Her finger sank deep into Heather’s curls.

Heather snickered. “Missed.”

Valencia snorted. “Yeah, a little bit. It really is bloody, though, but like... dry.”

“Probably from your bed.” Heather took another drink.

“Aww! Is that what happened? Well, let me at least get some Neosporin for that.” Valencia shuffled toward the bathroom.

“Dude, you can’t even poke my ear right. How are you gonna put medicine on it?”

“Very carefully.”

They giggled. Heather leaned against the counter while she awaited her companion’s return. Valencia came back a couple of minutes later with an excessive dollop of the ointment on one fingertip and a circular bandage on the other. 

“Okay. This is going to be interesting. Don’t move.”

Heather swept her hair aside before she complied. Valencia rested the edge of her palm against Heather’s cheekbone to keep it steady. Her eyes squinted in concentration. A pink hint of tongue stuck out the corner of her mouth. Heather’s shoulders began to shake with suppressed laughter. Valencia gave her a teasing shove with the other hand. 

“That counts as moving.”

Heather tried without success to look serious. “Sorry.”

Valencia shifted her palm in a motion reminiscent of the hand on a clock, advancing by degrees, until at last her finger came into contact with the area of injury. “Hah! Nailed it.”

“Cool. I’ve gotta say, though, I’m not at all optimistic about that bandage.” Heather cast a wary glance at the plastic.

“Yeah, me either,” Valencia agreed. “Wish me luck.”

“You? I’m the one who’s gonna end up with adhesive in my hair.”

“Fair point. Good luck to you, too.”

“Comforting. I feel so much better about letting you do this.”

Valencia’s brows drew together. “Shh... You’re distracting the healer and she’s got a very important job to do. This is life or death stuff.”

Heather pantomimed zipping her lips.

“That’s better.”

It took several attempts including a couple of near-accidents involving stray strands, but then Valencia cupped Heather’s ear with both her hands and somehow managed to fold the bandage across the top.

“Ta-da!”

“Brilliant work, doc.” Heather plucked a sunflower out of the vase on the counter. She passed it to Valencia. “Job well done.”

Valencia blushed. She accepted the flower and put it immediately back in the water with the rest. “I’m very respected in my field.”

Heather inclined her head solemnly. They lapsed into silence, but then Heather tapped both hands against her denim shorts. “I should probably go home. I can’t avoid it forever.”

“You’re not going to drive, are you?”

“No, no. I walked. I’ll just head back the same way.” Heather ducked into Valencia’s bedroom to retrieve her cardigan off the floor.

“By yourself?”

“That’s how I traveled, yeah.” Heather clumsily shoved her arms into the sleeves.

“Not this time. I’m going with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Let me get my jacket.” Valencia grabbed the article of clothing in question and, with some difficulty, added it to her ensemble. She pocketed the key ring and tapped her fingers against her sides. “Off we go.”

___

Valencia wasn’t sure at what point during their stroll Heather talked her into taking the long way around or why she agreed to it, but eventually she realized they were in a part of West Covina she didn’t typically frequent.

“Where are we right now?”

“Getting close to my homework spot.” Heather walked up to a sign and pointed. “The Municipal Park.” They rounded the curve of the sidewalk. Heather gaped in amazement. “V, look! It’s empty. This never happens in the middle of the day.”

She walked across the vacant earth in long strides. Valencia followed at a distance. “Where are you going?”

“On a nostalgia trip. C’mon.” Heather approached the jungle gym.

“What does that even mean?” Valencia watched while Heather reached overhead to grasp the first beam of the monkey bars. “Are you sure this thing is made for adults?”

“Technically, no, but the metal portions will still support my weight.” Heather bent her legs at the knees to verify. “And I am gonna make good use of that sturdiness.”

She shucked her outermost garment again, but tied the sleeves around herself to keep track of it. Valencia stepped back so she had room to move. The crossing was more complicated since Heather could not easily judge the span of each transition, but her arms seemed up to the challenge of bearing her body aloft for a longer stretch of time. Valencia watched Heather’s biceps shift beneath her skin before she had to suppress a shiver.

Heather misjudged the next switch and whacked her knuckles against the bar. “Ah, fuck, that hit a vein.” She dropped lightly to the ground. “What did you do on the playground when you were little?”

Valencia counted activities on her fingers as she tried to remember. “Jump rope, hopscotch, four square... Oh, and one year our classroom got a couple of Skip-Its. The teacher had to schedule out turns to prevent fistfights.”

Heather’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, Skip-Its. I completely forgot about those things. So fun, but the counter hitting your ankle hurt like hell.”

Valencia nodded and chuckled. “So many bruises.”

“What about the stuff they’ve got here?” Heather prompted. “What would kid Valencia have ended up doing in this park?”

Valencia noticed the ladder to the lookout. “Well, I used to hang upside down sometimes. My legs were always stronger than my arms.”

“Do it.”

Valencia headed toward the bars without further consideration. “This is a terrible idea. You are a bad influence.”

“When I’ve been indulging in substances? Sometimes. But I’m a good spotter. I’ll stand directly in front of you. Try it.” Heather planted her feet firmly and waited.

Valencia ascended a few rungs, locked her calves across the other side, and started to lean backward. “Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no.” They both winced as she uncurled her spine with great caution, but then her back straightened and she dangled vertically above the ground. “Wait. Nope, nope, nope. The world’s not supposed to start moving without me. Catch!”

Heather flinched when Valencia’s legs kicked past her face, but she dove forward quickly enough to secure a supporting grip against Valencia’s middle. Valencia felt Heather’s fingers graze just below her chest and her stomach clenched. She adjusted her jacket and cleared her throat, but she couldn’t step away from the embrace until the vertigo subsided. “Thanks,” she murmured once her surroundings returned to normal.

“Told you I’d be ready.” Heather hooked her thumbs through her belt loops. She wandered toward the swing set. “Did you ever play Spider?”

Valencia tilted her head. “Did I pretend to be a spider? Was that a thing?”

Heather regarded her with amusement. “No, dude. On the swings. I’ll show you.” She cautiously lowered herself onto a seat. “Now you climb on, and one of your legs goes on either side of me.”

Valencia’s eyebrows lifted. Sweat prickled over her pores. “You want me to what now?”

“It’s tricky even when you’re sober but it’s fun, I swear. I can help you get started.” Heather crooked a finger and beckoned. “Please? With one person it’s just, like, regular swinging.”

Valencia bit her lip. “Okay, but don’t you dare drop me.”

“Cross my heart and, well, hopefully none of the other stuff. I’m only twenty-six.” She tapped the chains on the swing. “Hold onto these while you put the first leg through. It keeps you steady. Kinda. Also, lead with your left. That way, the dominant leg is still supporting you.”

Valencia adhered to the instructions. She still swayed dangerously, but Heather was able to stabilize the shaking of the swing enough to restore balance. The second leg-up was even more hazardous. Valencia yelped and threw herself forward with the motion of the kick. Heather’s feet slipped from the dirt. They had to hold onto each other to keep from tumbling backward as the swing careened in no particular direction. Heather’s forehead touched Valencia’s clavicle. Valencia panted with relief that they had survived the takeoff and tried to ignore the way Heather’s proximity tingled at every point of contact. She gave her friend a subtle push.

“What happens now?”

“The next part doesn’t exactly look like the real thing because actual spiders don’t move like that, but it’s the only way to get the swing going, so that’s how it works. You alternate leg movements. Like, I hold mine out while you curl yours under, then you extend yours while I pull mine back. Get it?”

She demonstrated both. Valencia peered cautiously over the side to watch. “Yeah, I’m good. Full speed ahead.”

Heather grinned. She began the process, and Valencia followed her lead. The swing started to move in a recognizable arc.

“It’s working!” Valencia cried excitedly.

“Yep. Ready to kick it up a notch?” Heather’s smile became an adventurous smirk.

Valencia felt butterflies, which she willfully attributed to the rush of their successful endeavor. “Always.”

They picked up momentum, shouting and laughing harder the higher they soared. Valencia leaned away a bit more than she intended. Fear swooped into her gut when her torso pitched backward. Her co-pilot’s arm was around Valencia’s waist before she even had the chance to explain her panic. Heather held fast and eased the swing’s tempo back to something slow and easy. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

When they were nearly to a stop, Heather’s grip returned to the chain links. Their fingers accidentally overlapped, yet she did not adjust her hands to remedy that. Valencia became acutely aware of how little distance stretched between them. Heather’s eyes met hers, but Valencia had to look away. Her gaze fell instead to Heather’s mouth. Unbidden, the Santa Ana dream she’d vocally dismissed at the time resurfaced. 

Would Heather’s lips be as soft and sure against her own as she had unintentionally imagined? Could they fit together that perfectly, tangled into one form until nothing else mattered?

Was it her skewed perception, or was Heather angling closer?

Valencia forgot to breathe. Intense heat built between her thighs. Her heartbeat accelerated so frantically that she couldn’t perceive any other sound.

“I’m glad you taught me that,” she blurted. Valencia’s face burned at the evident strain in her tone. Although she did not know if the undercurrent had been one-sided, a small part of her hated that she had been the one to break their connection. 

Heather blinked. “Yeah, it’s a classic.”

Valencia tried in vain to disengage without aid, but in the end it was impossible to get back on her feet without Heather. The lack of personal space seemed altered somehow, awkward and fumbling. When they were both standing once more, Heather untied her cardigan and pulled it onto her torso. She strode beyond the park perimeter. Valencia hastened her steps to match the pace.

The pair returned to the cement path, walking without talking. Valencia’s insides felt leaden and they twisted with compunction. Her feet were equally under strain, so heavy in the state of remorse that she tripped over a break in the blocks. “Sorry,” Valencia mumbled after Heather turned to check on her. “I’m still a little unsteady, I guess.”

Heather modified her speed until they traveled side-by-side. She offered a reassuring nudge that lifted Valencia’s spirits in an instant. “It’s okay.” Heather’s smile was affectionate and patient. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

[cryptid-crusader]

My Tumblr History (feat. a LOT of rambling, I apologize)

I’ve been on Tumblr 9 years. I came to Tumblr from Xanga (which IDK if that’s even still a thing or not) after being thoroughly obsessed with latter for about 4 or so years. Xanga was much more of a typical blog blog, and though I interacted with far less people on it, those few I did became honest to god friends that I still think about to this day. Though, as years past, my few friends began to drop off one by one from the site and I found myself enjoying it much less once they were gone. Eventually, I left too.

A few months later, I decided to join Tumblr. It was still a fairly new site in 2010 when I had joined, and I had only heard a few things here and there around the internet before I decided to check it out myself. When I first started, I used this site a lot like I used Xanga and basically had it exclusively as an internet journal to talk about life and nerdy shit and the like (I remember even thinking the reblog option was dumb because why not just make your own content? Why reblog other peoples stuff? loooool) and also did a lot of those writing daily challenges. Do you guys remember those? I loved them. Anyway...

Needless to say as time went on and I got older and followed more people and gained more followers (some of you have been here from very early on and for that I am incredibly thankful) as dweeby as this may sound, I really grew as a person. God, I remember 9 years ago I would sometimes post uncredited art or really insensitive, not funny at all, “jokes” because I honestly didn’t see a problem with them (and the only reason I really remember these awful things is occasionally once in a blue moon random people would find them in the bowels of my blog and like them and I would shudder and delete them). I kinda started Tumblr as this young social media doofus that, again as cheesy as it sounds, learned a lot and grew from my experience here. I would never dream of posting uncredited art now, and those “jokes” make me want to vomit. I learned a lot about social issues through this blog and it also helped me open up and learn about my sexuality. I got to see a broader world view from all different walks of life here (which was incredibly refreshing after growing up in a very close knit predominately white republican community) , and met some fantastic humans I’m blessed to have interacted with and become their friend. I never would have met them without this site!

Not to mention just like... all the cool shit. There are SO many talented people on Tumblr. So much beautiful art, fantastic writing, and just all round hilarious and interesting humans that I loved to get even a small peak into their lives and learn about them and what they like and do for fun. I’ve picked up hobbies through this site, joined fandoms through this site, made friends, laughed endlessly, become inspired, found some of my favorite anime/books/movies, and have had so much fun in these nine years on Tumblr.

... Not to say that it hasn’t been without it’s bad. I’ve been here long enough to remember when Tumblr users proudly boasted about how open and inviting to any and all people they were, how they would never point fingers, be mean, or turn others away. Boy, how that has changed looool. I’ve been through the annoying but innocent enough superwholocks and the scandals of older users who used to be Tumblr royalty that fucked up in some way and fell from grace, to the disgrace of people who are totally fine humans that didn’t completely cater to exactly what certain people wanted or made a few wrong steps that people felt like they had to attack them viciously for the littlest asinine shit. The good the bad and the ugly, all the way through to now.

Now. :(

To be frank, this entire site has been a disaster for a loooooooooong time with a staff that seems to be equal mix of not knowing at all how to run a functioning site and not giving a shit at all about it’s user base and their feelings (which reeeeeeeally sucks for all the fantastic content creators and people who have been here forever who have essentially made this site what it is). Little things like ‘oh we made an update that ‘everyone’ will love but is actually dumb as hell and just pisses people off’ to their have been porn bots, pedos, and nazis on this site for YEARS terrorizing people and being awful but guess that is just how it will be... Until they got banned from the app store and THEN it’s an issue (because they lost money ofc)!

Suddenly, Tumblr staff cares, but only for themselves. Instead of actually resolving the issue THAT HAS BEEN GOING ON FOR YEARS AND IS AN EXTREMELY WELL KNOW AND COMPLAINED ABOUT ISSUE they just decide fuck it, punish everyone. No “porn” at all, but I use that term lightly because they say some nudity is allowed (don’t get me started on female presenting nipples it also makes me laugh to hard and then I won’t be able to type) and for some reason apparently written erotica is allowed (which makes absolutely zero sense if you are truly trying to make this a ‘family friendly’ site, why is visual porn not allowed but written OK?) but... Is it really? Posts that are completely innocent are getting tagged left and right as not suitable content. Like, thousands of posts are getting tagged by whatever stupid algorithm they are using that are completely void of anything remotely sexual and you expect me to believe your incompetent asses are going to go through them and deem which are OK and which aren’t based on you shoddy stupid ass new rules? Fuck that. 

And all the sex workers and people and run side blogs and NSFW art blogs and the like are just completely screwed (no pun intended). It upsets me because like... Porn blogs have never been the issue. There are definitely some horrible ones, no denying that, but for the most part they just stayed in their lane and interacted with other porn blogs. They weren’t the issue (And, if Tumblr knew at all how to create a damn site, they wouldn’t have been an issue at all if the damn safe mode toggle actually worked like it was supposed to). The ungodly amount of bots is the fucking issue. I can tell you right now, I have over a thousand followers and I am in no way kidding when I say half of those are porn bots that I just gave up reporting because I get like, 3 of them following me a week on average. It’s ridiculous! Also, ACTUAL FUCKING CHILD PORN? THAT IS EASILY ACCESSIBLE EVEN WHEN NOT LOOKING UP ANYTHING NSFW (which I very unfortunately know through experience)? And to top it all off, fucking NAZIS who for some reason are still allowed to spew their bullshit on this site??? Is this a nightmare?

So with all this happening, I believe it’s pretty safe to say Tumblr’s days are numbered. It makes me laugh and cry, it’s something you could see coming a mile away and yet something that you didn’t think would actually happen. I don’t want to leave Tumblr. I love you guys (the users not the staff). You have all brought joy and enrichment to my life and I am so grateful I got to be here with you. I also just like a lot of nuances of tumblr, like the fact I can read an entry so powerful and moving it brings me to tears and then just one post underneath is an over baked nonsensical cat meme which has me wheezing for reasons I can’t quite explain. I can be anonymous and as weird as I want to here without having to really worry about family, coworkers, or older friends seeing it and being like WTF is wrong with you, what does all this mean??? I like how my blog looks and how I can bitch in the tags and chat with my friends and message people and talk about my oc’s and randoms interests and get pointers and learn new things and AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I love Tumblr. I don’t want to leave and don’t necessarily plan to. But then again, I said they same thing about Xanga, and if Tumblr keeps going in the way it is going... I’m not sure I really truly  want to be lumped in with that. :/

Now this has already been entirely too long (and honestly I’m kind of feeling how I did when I started this blog in 2010 lul) but lemme say this: Thanks guys, I had a whole lot of fun. And if I do end up leaving sometime in the maybe not to distant future know that I will always be lurking around somewhere on the internet, and I had the best time while I was here. I wish nothing but the best for all of you, and may we all be able to remain a happy and dysfunctional little group, if not here, somewhere much better.