#she should be a murderer and stuff your honour she did in fact do all that. not discounting that in the slightest

[dewwshi]

The people demand more Minlach. ( please more we are desperate and your art of them is so good 🥺🥺🥺)

🫡

my beautiful yuri... sooo critical to me that minthara 1. fell first 2. fell harder. something abt the idea of this self-avowed villain being utterly and inexplicably smitten with the sweetest nicest golden retriever girl in the world

[arty-chase]

Graveyard Siblings (3)

Some for revenge and some sibling bonding.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1)(Part 2)

-------

Adrien was next to be visited. Plagg woke him up from his sleep.

-------

“Kit, wake up. I want camembert.”

“Plagg, silence. You are not getting any cheese if you do that.”

“Sorry, Adrien but you are not my ‘master’ anymore.”

“Plagg? Why are you here? Where’s the ring?”

“The ring is as far away as possible and kept safely away. I am here because someone wants to talk to you.”

“Who?”

A cloaked, hooded figure stepped out of the shadows to his room.

“Kitty. My Chaton. Did you miss me?” A sweet, familiar but yet so terrifying voice came from the figure.

She pulled down the hood to reveal Ladybug with a wicked-looking black mask with white lenses.

“What am I talking about? You do miss me. Your Bugaboo. Too bad I don’t feel the same, Adrien.”

Lightning flashed and it started to rain. The mask was gone, revealing his dead classmate, Marinette with chilling red eyes. The pigtails grew longer and curved upwards, giving the illusion of her having horns. Twin blades flashed and she leaped towards him. (Damian gave them to her with some lessons in exchange for spending time with, babysitting, the kwamis.)

Adrien scrambled away from the bed in the nick of time. A sword impaling the spot where he just was.

“Plagg, help. Where is the ring? I need to transform.”

“Sorry, kitten. I am not telling you. Even if you did have the ring, it’s not going to be much help.”

“Kitty, stay still. Then, we can be together. Just like you wanted.”

Adrien continued to dodge.

“What do you mean?” He all but screamed at Plagg.

“Pigtails, here, is a vengeful spirit. She’s not going to stop until she is satisfied. How about asking her what she wants?”

“Ladybug, what do you want?”

“What I wanted was a partner I could rely on, someone I can trust with my life, someone who wouldn’t stab me in the back for his own selfish gain. I wanted a friend who would have my back and not tell me to keep quiet at the price of my mental health and my relationships with people I care about. WAS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?!”

She managed to get a cut on his left cheek.

Soon, he was on the ground, bleeding out on the round.

“Tell Hawkmoth that he better watch out. Because-” lightning struck and Plagg and Ladybug had disappeared, “his downfall is coming.” Her voice echoed through his room.

Adrien laid bleeding until Natalie opened the door after hearing a crash from the room and came to check on him. As she called an ambulance for Adrien, she wondered if it wasn’t too late to ask for redemption and be spared from Ladybug’s wrath for her part in her murder.

Adrien had the word ‘TRAITOR’ carved into his back. Forever reminding him of his crimes.

--------

He wasn’t in school for a week after the incident. They all were told that Adrien had an accident while fencing.

Gabriel was a little panicking now.

He hired an exorcist, (John Constantine got a hefty amount and did a few flashy magic tricks to appease Gabriel but he didn’t lift the curse Maria put on the place. She is not someone to be on the bad side of and he thinks that he can’t lift it even if he wanted to.)

Emilie gets a little sus at Gabriel when he brought this strange man with a British accent into their home after their son got attacked in his own room with security tighter than Fort Knox.

She doesn’t buy that ‘accident’ bullshit that her husband, son and even Natalie tries to sell her. She thinks it is connected to what happened while she was in a coma.

-----

Adrien has a curse too.

(Credit to @raeuberprinzessin for giving me an idea)

He couldn’t act like the ‘Perfect Adrien’ in public anymore. Acting more like Chat Noir at first then, later a spoiled brat. His friends thought that he was finally rebelling against his father and encouraged it a lot.

Adrien started criticizing other people, strangers at first then to the people working on the photoshoots to his fans to his other school mates, people in his class and his friends. (The curse planted ideas into his head about what he should say and he said them all without thinking about the effect it has on other people)

People started avoiding him not liking his attitude and his comments about how they should behave and change something about them because he doesn’t like it that way and guilt-tripping them when he doesn’t get his way. Even Nino started to distance himself after he saw how Adrien talked to a fan.

The public thought it was a phase but as he got progressively worse, people started despising him. Adrien doesn’t realize this of course so far, happy that his father let him get away with ‘ruining the Agreste image.’ (Gabriel was worried about a potential vengeful ghost and making sure his wife didn't know about his stint as a supervillain. There was also the fact that the Afterlife made more sales than him again and managed to get on the cover of Vogue when he should have, dammit.) He was finally able to say what he wanted to without repercussions. Until he realized when Nino and everyone else cancelled for a hangout for the third time that week that he was slowly losing his friends.

He panics and tries to fix the situation. He didn’t want to be alone again.

He talks to Nino about it and to his horror, he couldn’t stop himself from saying many things that were a little hurtful. (Second part. The moment he realizes he is going to be alone. He is going to find out that yes, lies can hurt people. He is going to see it happen firsthand.)

Nino moved seats and told Adrien that their friendship was on hold until he apologized.

Soon, nearly every time his mouth opened, lies and insults about his friends or their embarrassing secrets came spilling out. Everyone hated him now and Mme. Bustier tried to give him a reprimand about his behaviour, which when he tried to defend himself, he found himself unable to speak.

He managed to explain to his father what caused his unpopularity by writing what happened to him. Unfortunately due to his poor behaviour before the second part of the curse was activated, his fan base was dwindling and people didn’t like him anymore so there was a hit on the Gabriel brand.

He no longer has to do modeling, clearing his schedule. But no one would spend time with him.

The best solution he could do with his predicament was to keep quiet and endure the loneliness and the glares of his classmates at school. Adrien was relegated to the back and nearly everyone avoided him. He was now a social pariah.

Even Lila avoided him because of her own curse which made Adrien turn into one of her previous victims. (She also didn’t ponder why Marinette rarely appears compared to the others.)

If Adrien felt a tiny bit remorseful or guilty for making Marinette keep quiet or betraying Ladybug, he can gain a little control over what he says.

The curse can be broken if he apologizes to Maria herself or to her grave.

------

The first few months, while Marinette adapted to living with the Waynes, Jason stayed over at Wayne Manor because having Maria living with him at his apartment wasn’t a good idea and he had no clue how to take care of a teenage girl.

On paper she is adopted by Bruce because Jason can’t. (Some CPS reasons.)

Making Jason a little more salty towards Bruce. “I found her first. I called dibs.”

Brought Maria to meet the other Outlaws and they adopted her too. “Hey, guys. She’s my sister first.”

Jason was the one to teach her how to shoot a gun because he was ‘the most capable’ of teaching her.

The first few months were a little tense with Marinette not fully trusting them and the same with the rest of the Batfam.

Jason warmed her up a bit to him by telling a little of why he took her here.

He was also the one to book them flight to Paris with Bruce’s credit card so she can tell her friends that she wasn’t dead in person.

They bonded more after stopping some nefarious plot in Paris while they were there. Let’s say Gentleman Ghost and something involving the catacombs in Paris. (I watched some Batman: Brave and the Bold for childhood nostalgia.)

Kwamis were animal-shaped and they were interesting creatures to be around. And very very curious.

There was a stressful day for Maria when all the Kwamis decided to play hide and seek. Damian somehow got roped into helping her as the only available person in the Manor and he will deny that he enjoyed it.

Damian is the little brother she always wanted and she is more tolerable compared to his brothers. There is also the fact that she trusts him with the kwamis and deep down, he feels super-honoured. (I just love older sister!Mari)

Tim and her being insomniac/coffee buddies. There has been many many interventions to stop this.

I get that Marinette is this selfless person and loves making people happy but she has siblings now and them eating the stuff she made for herself to enjoy, should get on her nerves after a while.

She makes a box with booby-traps in which she puts in her cookies and food.

There are many different layers of traps because this is the Batfam and each of them is non-lethal and more ridiculous.

Okay, I once read a fic about Marinette making a bear-trap style box to hide the Miracle Box so this box is also like that but kept for food. (Traps and Sneaks by quicksilversquared)

Someone (I vote a hungry Dick or Jason, maybe a suspicious Bruce) made a mistake of putting their hand into the box and the first trap activated.

Screams filled the house.

Everyone came down including Marinette.

Bruce asked, “Who did this?”

“It was me.”

“Why?”

“They kept eating the cookies.”

“There are other ways to stop them from doing that you know like a ‘Do Not Touch’ sign not a death trap box.”

“They are non-lethal.”

Bruce locked it away but Tim later stole it to tweak it and store his coffee. ------ (Part 4)

[teawaffles]

The Conspiratorial Bullet: Chapter 8 / End

“Hey, Helena. In the middle of the game, you suddenly went along with that guy and disappeared — where on earth did you go?”

“Hmm…… Explaining it would be a real pain. Just imagine what you like.”

The girl groaned in annoyance. “……Can’t you just tell me? Meanie.”

After the game had ended with the blue team’s victory, as he observed Helena and her former friend’s conversation from a distance, Bond spoke to William.

“Those two sure have gotten closer, haven’t they?”

William answered with a smile.

“Perhaps it’s like how after rain, comes fair weather.” [1]

“Though for the two of them, it must’ve been like a bolt from the blue, huh.”

After that modest exchange of proverbs, Bond wondered aloud.

“Moran-kun and I haven’t heard the details, but for now, can we consider the case closed without incident?”

“Yep; the perpetrator has been caught, and the threat to Helena and her family has been effectively eliminated.”

This time, the plan had been set up after William and the others leveraged their intelligence network to identify the criminal, and then shared the information they’d obtained with Helena. From his profile of Andy, William had read the man’s every move, then intentionally left him at large in order to catch him in the act — that was the entire flow of it. Hence, apart from the key players involved, the others had been told nothing more than that they would be “using the game to capture the criminal”.

William had put an end to it all. After hearing his report, Bond seemed satisfied.

“That’s great. To be honest, ever since I got caught up in the game, I’ve been thinking a little — that maybe, I haven’t actually done anything useful today.”

“Far from it; on the contrary, it’s because you took the game so seriously, that Andy dropped his guard and carried out his plan to frame Mr Kevin.”

“——So you’re saying the match between me and the old geezer was well and truly a serious one.”

Placing a hand on William’s shoulder, Moran joined the conversation. Behind him stood Jack and Albert.

Jack sighed in consternation.

“You’re quite persistent, you know. It was just one hit.”

Yet Moran was undeterred.

“Still, it’s a fact that I scored that hit. If it was a real bullet, you would’ve been a goner.”

“Wasn’t it because it wasn’t live that it managed to hit me……?”

Jack smiled wryly, and Albert spoke up in a cool voice.

“Furthermores, it’s an undeniable fact that you got hit right after. Isn’t that right, Colonel?”

“Ugh.”

Albert had been spot on, and the corners of Moran’s mouth twitched as he fell silent.

Having watched their exchange with amusement, William thanked them once again.

“I’m truly grateful to all of you for lending a hand today. Truthfully, it pained me to have involved everyone in catching just one criminal.”

Hearing that, Moran clapped him on the shoulder.

“As I said, we had fun, so it’s alright. In fact, it’s been a long time since we’ve fought one another all out, so I’m grateful for that.”

“Indeed: we’re also pleased to have had a showdown with Colonel Moran.”

“Now hold on just a minute. Don’t think you’ve won just because you caught me off guard once.”

Even now, Moran was still snapping at Albert. Seeing that, Jack spoke up in a grave tone.

“On the battlefield, even the slightest carelessness will cost you your life, Moran.”

“I’m well aware of the basics! Don’t give me those useless platitudes!”

Just like that, William and the others were engaged in an amicable conversation, when the parent and child who’d been the central figures of this case called out to them.

“Everyone: thank you very much for today.”

Having wrapped up her conversation with her friend, Helena thanked them in a light-hearted tone that was distinctively hers. Continuing from where she’d left off, Kevin stood beside his daughter as he gave the entire Moriarty household a deep bow.

“How can I ever thank you enough for this……?”

On behalf of all of them, Albert spoke.

“We have simply acted according to our sense of justice. In particular, Mr Kevin, I would like to apologise for not informing you of our plans.”

Kevin hastily shook his head.

“No no no; Lord Albert, you have nothing to feel guilty about: you all saved Helena’s and my lives.”

“That’s right — we’re really grateful for that. We’ll probably never forget this kindness.”

Upon hearing that inappropriate cockiness, Kevin admonished her at once.

“What’s this pomposity towards the people who’ve helped you? Also, you should be saying ‘definitely’ rather than ‘probably’……. Apologies; to have such an unpleasant exchange at this time…”

He bowed repeatedly as he said that. But suddenly, as he remained in a bow, Kevin looked up and asked a question.

“……Come to think of it, what happened to that man? It seems the other participants haven’t noticed anything at all.”

He was concerned about Andy Krueger’s fate. He had punched the living daylights out of the man, so much so he’d been knocked unconscious — that much Kevin himself knew, but as William and the others had taken care of the aftermath, he hadn’t heard the details of what happened after that.

“He’s now on one of our carriages, with Louis and Fred keeping an eye on him,” replied William. “We felt there was no need to blindly call in the police and spoil the fun.”

“I see……. Then, will he be taken to the police after this?”

Handing a criminal over to the police. That was what common sense dictated, but William deliberately tilted his head with a troubled expression.

“As much as we would like to, ……the nobility of this country wield an outsize influence, hence there is a concern that even judicial rulings will be twisted in their favour. If that were to happen, both of you may end up in harm’s way again. As such, we shall engage in careful negotiations, with the aim of preventing such things from ever happening again.”

A calm smile rose to William’s face, and unconsciously, Kevin gulped.

Normally, negotiating with a criminal outside the authority of the state would be out of the question. But William’s smile held a power that seemed almost divine, erasing all such doubts.

How would they deal with Andy after this? It was probably wiser not to probe into that. Anyway, it was true that they had saved both their lives. Best to let sleeping dogs lie.

The unfathomable nature of these young men made Kevin’s blood run cold. Then, William changed the topic.

“So, what are your plans from here on?”

Kevin lowered his gaze a little, and met his daughter’s eyes as she stood beside him.

“Just like before, I’m going to spend time with my children. As for the plans for the new store…… To be honest, I’m worried about going it alone, but I intend to do my best anyway.”

“Hmm — I have no idea how to manage a store, but my brother and I will be supporting Mr Kevin together. Even though I don’t look like it, I’m good with housework and stuff, you know.”

“……Is that so?”

At their words, William nodded, and a strange silence settled between the two parties.

Kevin and Helena were trying to appear relieved at having overcome great danger, but even so, it must’ve been an immense shock to learn that a person important to both of them had been murdered. That emotional wound had yet to heal, and now that fact revealed itself in the form of silence.

“U-Um……”

In a hurry, Helena tried to find the words to dispel the unpleasant atmosphere. Right then, Kevin raised his voice a little as he made an announcement.

“In any case, we’ll be alright. Somehow, I believe we’ll overcome this tragedy and move forward.”

Helena nodded along with his words, and William broke into a gentle smile.

“Indeed. I shall be praying for your family’s bright future.”

After those modest words of encouragement, William held out a clenched fist towards Kevin.

“Also, that punch was very satisfying.”

“Definitely. You socked him with all you had — I’ve seen you in a new light.”

Helena did a swift one-two as she shadow-boxed, and Kevin ruffled his hair in embarrassment.

“It was unbecoming of me. Though, I don’t regret it one bit.”

“Since you had the courage to pull that off, I’m sure you’ll do just fine from here on.”

“I’m honoured to hear that. Well then, I hope we meet again someplace else.”

As Kevin bid them farewell, Helena stood up straight and looked at William and the others in turn.

“To everyone in the Moriarty household: today, we are truly in your debt. We’ll never forget this kindness, definitely not.”

With an uncharacteristically polite tone, Helena expressed their gratitude once again, and both father and daughter left the scene with peaceful expressions.

As he sent them off, the eldest brother asked his younger sibling a question.

“——Well now, is this truly the end of it, William?”

A hint of the Lord of Crime — who was striking terror across the country — revealed itself in William’s expression as he spoke.

“Of course not: we still have the finishing touches left.”

At those words, the entire Moriarty household smiled in unison.

T/N: Helena’s story isn’t over just yet — there’s one final piece of the puzzle, and it’s a big one! Stay tuned x)

Footnotes:

[1] This is the literal translation of the proverb 雨降って地固まる — essentially, it means that good things do come out of bad things.

Translator’s notes

The Moriarty household

I’ve translated the phrase モリアーティ家 as “the Moriarty household” when it is used to address everyone in the Moriarty organisation, since “the Moriarty family” suggests that only the three brothers are being referred to.

[redpandaramblings]

Sweet Treats  Sero Hanta x F!Reader Birthday fic.

Happy birthday, @reinawritesbnha!!!  Wanted to write you a silly little fic that I hope you enjoy.

Content Warnings:-  Not SFW situations, cake destruction, nudity, crude humor, Mineta mention, awkward situations, mentions of food, mentions of drinking, probably incorrect Spanish, aged up characters.

Spanish translations are provided at the very bottom of the fic.  I suggest waiting to look them up to avoid spoilers.

Y/n protested playfully as her friend dragged her towards the well known restaurant.  “Come on, this place is too fancy.  Pro heroes eat here!  There’s no way we’re getting in without a reservation.”

Her friend laughed, continuing to lead her towards the door.  “One, it’s not too fancy for your birthday.  Two, we do have a reservation!  It’s a weekday, so it actually wasn’t too difficult to get in.  Sucks a little that we can’t party as hard, but we get to celebrate on your actual birthday, so it all works out!  Now come on!  Everyone else is inside already getting everything set up.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, but followed along without further protest.  She really had wanted to go here.  They served some of her favorite foods, and had fabulous service by all reports.  The place was really popular with the pro hero set because of their discretion and their private rooms.  Y/n hoped to maybe catch a glimpse of one of her favorites, but honestly, chances were slim.

Without any fuss, a waiter took their names and escorted them to their reserved private room.  A cheer greeted them as they walked in.

“Happy Birthday, Y/N!!!!”

“Let’s get this party started!”

And get started they did.  Drinks were served and food orders were placed.  Laughter and conversation bubbled around.  Someone pulled out Cards Against Humanity and everyone was cackling and cracking jokes, trying to find the most inappropriate answers to all the prompts.  The fun is briefly interrupted as someone knocks on the door.  A few waitstaff wheel in a covered table holding a rather large cake.  They place it in a good position before bowing and hurrying out.

One of y/n’s friends stands and walks over to it, brows furrowed in confusion.  “This doesn’t look like what we ordered…  It’s way too big.” They murmured.  “What we wanted shouldn’t need it’s own table…”  They rapped their knuckles on the table a few times to emphasize their point.

Suddenly it was like the cake exploded upward.  Flecks of frosting scattered about the room as first a brunet head, then a muscular torso came into view.  Shapely arms pose into a flexing position.  A masculine voice booms “Congrats on making the top…  fifty….”  His voice trailed off as he took in the shocked expressions of everyone in the room.  “Youuuu are not Denki.”

Y/n shook her head as she tried very hard to keep her gaze above his waist level.  A man had just jumped out of her cake.  A naked man had just jumped out of her cake.  A naked pro hero that she happened to have a massive crush on had just jumped out of her cake.  Y/n discretely pinched herself on the thigh.  Yep, it hurt.  Which means Sero Hanta was currently naked in the same room as her, his very nice looking cock covered in cake and cream.  She snapped her gaze back upward as the blushing hero began muttering to himself, clearly on the verge of a panic attack. 

“That was…  The knocks were the cue…  I mean…”

The hero sank to his knees, the messy remains of the box and cake giving him a little bit of privacy.   

“Mi vida se acabó.  Me acurrucaré en este pastel y moriré ahora.  Puedo ver los titulares.  El héroe profesional Cellophane encontrado desnudo y muerto en un pastel.”

Y/n quickly stood up, hurrying over to where the leftover party supplies were.  Luckily, there was a leftover tablecloth, since the restaurant had supplied their own.  She cautiously walked back over to Sero, holding out the tablecloth.

“Hey, it’s alright.  Promise.  Want to cover up with this?”

Sero blinked a few times, taking several deep breaths before he nodded, reaching out and taking the tablecloth.  He hurriedly wrapped it around himself, recovering some of his modesty.  “Gracias.  Lo siento.  I must have been wheeled into the wrong room.”  

Y/n nodded as one of her friends brought Sero a drink to help calm him down.  “Want us to get some staff or find your friends?  I don’t think you want to wear a tablecloth the rest of the night, though it is a rather bold fashion statement.”

Sero closed his eyes, taking a gulp of his drink as he thought for a moment.  “Flag down some staff, but ask them to bring Kirishima here?  He should have my clothes.”

“No need to get dressed on our account!”  One of y/n’s friends chirped.

“In fact we could strip if you want.  Make it all an equal playing field.”  Another friend said as they headed out the door in search of someone to help them.

Y/n buried her face in her hands and groaned.  “I’m going to murder you all.  No court would convict me.  Murder is legal on your birthday, right?”

“Wait, it’s your birthday?”  For the first time since he popped out of the cake, Hanta took his time to actually look around the room.  Black, white, and yellow balloons hung in the corners.  Crepe paper twisted around the edges of the room.  Some presents were piled in one corner.  “Oh Dios Mio, it’s your birthday.  My naked ass ruined your birthday.”

“Not ruined.”  Y/n chuckled, dropping her hands so she could look Sero in the eyes.  “Unexpected for sure.  You’ve definitely made this the most exciting birthday I’ve had.  Will be telling the story for years.  The time I accidentally got a naked man for my birthday.”

Sero raised his eyebrows.  “Not gonna mention the pro hero part?  Some people would pay good money for that, I’m sure.”

Y/n vigorously shook her head.  “No way!  I wouldn’t want to hurt your career like that!  You’ve got lots more important stuff to do than to do damage control on your public image.  I promise it doesn’t leave this room.”

The others in the room nodded and spoke up in agreement.  “Yeah dude.  Honest mistake.  We’ll laugh about it amongst ourselves, then forget about it.”

About this time, the door burst open.

“Dude!”

A blond rushed into the room.  Denki, took a moment to take in the scene in front of him before he doubled over, howling with laughter.  Kirishima, Bakugou, and Mina followed shortly behind.

“Sorry,” Kirishima rubbed his head, slightly embarrassed.  “Once Denks figured out what was going on, we couldn’t stop him.”

“This is better than if it had gone right!”  Denki wheezed, flopping over onto the floor.  “Happy birthday, nice to meet you!  Here’s my dick, give it a lick, it tastes like vanilla!”  Kaminari dissolved into nearly hysterical laughter as both Sero and y/n flushed scarlet.  Bakugou gave Denki a less than gentle boot to the ribs.  “It’s not that funny you fucking overgrown phone charger.  You really need to quit hanging out with Mineta.”

“I don’t know, guys, I think it’s pretty funny.”  Mina grinned as leaned against the doorframe.  “And I must say, the tablecloth toga is on point.  Should consider it for your next costume redesign.”

“Hardy har.  Didn’t realize this was comedy hour.  Now, did any of you payasos bring me my clothing?”

Kirishima held up a bag and gave it a shake.  “Clothes and wipes to get the gunk off ya.”

“Gracias, Eijiro.  You’re the only good man here.”

“Hey!” Bakugou objected.

“You’ll make the buen amigo list again if you manage to get services comped for these lovely folks.”

“Already did that as soon as we figured out what happened, soy sauce face.”

“Excellent.  Thank you.”  Sero sighed.  “Now can you please help me out of this table so that I can get dressed and quit intruding on the party of this encantadora dama?”

“Nope!”  Mina laughed.  “Or at least not right away.  First, pictures!”

“¿Imágenes? ¿Seriamente?”  Sero groaned.

“Absolutely!  We need to capture this moment forever!”

“Agreed!  I’ll take the pics so everyone else can crowd in and hand me your cameras if you want!” y/n’s friend piped up.

“If any of these pictures get out…” Bakugou growled.

“We’ve already been over that.  Personal mementos only!  Scout’s honour!”  y/n’s friend placed a hand over their heart and tried to tame their grin into something more serious.

And so that’s how y/n found herself perched next to her favorite hero, as flash after flash went off, taking group shots.  And it seemed that also just as quickly, Kirishima was helping to haul his friend out of the cake and cardboard remains.  They took over a corner, Denki and Kirishima holding up the tablecloth like a privacy curtain while Sero got himself cleaned up and dressed.  It was around this time that a very apologetic staff member showed up with a large angel food cake, placing it on the table while assuring everyone that their bills had been taken care of.  They wheeled out the other cake as they left.  After Sero was fully dressed, y/n cleared her throat and said,  “Would you like to stay for cake since yours is gone now?  Or have you had enough cake for the night?”

“Well,” Sero drawled, a mischievous grin on his face.  “I’m not rude enough to refuse a lady her wish on her birthday.”

“You had me at cake!”  Denki exclaimed, already sliding into a chair.

Everyone gathered around the table.  Happy Birthday was sung, candles were blown out, cake was cut and distributed.  Conversation flowed surprisingly easy, talking about jobs, and pets, and birthdays past.  Y/n shared about the birthday they’d almost accidentally set their nan on fire due to an unfortunate silly string incident.  Sero told about the birthday that was the day his quirk fully activated and he had accidentally taped himself to the ceiling.  It had taken his family half an hour to find him.  Bakugou claimed to have never had an embarrassing birthday, and threatened to explode his friends' faces when the rest of the Bakusquad started listing one thing after another.  And so several hours flew by with everyone enjoying themselves.  Bakugou finally looked at the clock and stretched, standing up.

“Hey nerds, place if going to close soon.  We need to go grab our shit.”

The others glanced at the clock before also scrambling up.  “Shit, yeah, completely lost track of time!”  Denki headed to the door.  “Later, gators!  Had an awesome night!  Should do it again sometime.  And happy birthday, Y/n!”

“Thanks, was a great night!  And congrats on cracking the top fifty!”  Y/n called.

Denki waved as he walked out the door.  Mina, Kirishima, and Bakugou also said their goodbyes and headed out.  Sero, however, lingered for a bit.

“It did turn out to be a good night.  But I am still sorry for interrupting your party like that.”

“For the last time, it’s fine”  Y/n laughed.

Sero cast his eyes down, bashfully, mumbling protests. But then, he noticed something attached to your bag. He interrupted his own rambling apology to ask “Is that a Cellophane tape dispenser key chain?”

Really, he didn’t have to ask. He knew all his own merch. That particular key chain was one of his first products. It hadn’t sold very well, and had only lasted one small run. They were really hard to find anymore. 

Before y/n had a chance to reply, her friend clapped her on the shoulder and said “Yep! She has three of them. One on her purse, a spare in case this one breaks, and one to keep in pristine condition.”

“Shut!  Up!” Y/n hissed.

Grinning, her friend continued.  “Pretty sure she has at least one of everything of the official merch.  She’s been a mega fan for years.  Total simp.  That’s why the party colors were black, white, and yellow.  Low key Cellophane themed.”

Y/n closed her eyes, resigned.  “If the floor doesn’t swallow me up right now, I’m burning your Dynamite body pillow next chance I get.”

Sero blushed as he grinned, one long arm raising to scratch the back of his head.  “Well now I don’t feel quite so bad about what happened.  One of a kind birthday show for my partidaria número uno.”

Y/n could feel their blush creeping down their neck.  “Really, it was just an honest mistake!  No big deal!”  She squeaked.

“Regardless, I do want to make it up to you, hermosa.  So, how about we exchange numbers?”

“What?!”  Y/n’s squeak reached an abnormally high pitch.

“Well this way we can get in touch, and I can make it up to you somehow.  Some exclusive merch.  Tickets to an event…  A date perhaps?”  Hanta’s grin spread wider.

Y/n’s brain stalled.  Her friends were quick to jump in.  “Yes!”

“She’d love to.”

“She’s free next Friday and Sunday!”

Y/n’s brain started to kick back in “Guys, what?  No!”

“So you wouldn’t like to go out with me next Sunday?”  Hanta whined with an exaggerated pout.

“No!  I mean…”  Y/n drew a deep shaking breath.  “I’d… I’d like that.  If you actually mean it, that is.”

Hanta pulled out his phone and handed it to y/n.  “Absolutely.  Just put in your number and I’ll text you.  No voy a dejar pasar esta oportunidad.  Tendríamos la mejor historia para contarles a nuestros hijos cómo nos conocimos.”

Y/n furrowed their eyebrows, only managing to catch a few words of the Spanish as they entered their number in.  “I didn’t quite catch all that…”

One of y/n’s friends called from across the room.  “Hey slick!  Es mejor que al menos haya una propuesta antes de planificar los hijos.”

Hanta blushed bright red while laughing.  “Noted.”

Y/n handed Sero his phone back.  “Neither of you are going to tell me what you said, are you?”

“Nope!  I’ll be texting you soon, hermosa.  But for now, hasta luego.”  Sero waved before jogging out the door and down the hallway, heading back to his friends.  Y/n waved, before going to help clean up, ignoring the giggles and teasing of her friends.  Soon enough, everything was taken care of.  Y/n said her goodbyes and headed out.  She hadn’t even made it to the car before her phone buzzed in her pocket.  When she pulled it out, there was a text from an unknown number that read “I can’t wait to see what the future brings.  Happy Birthday,  Princesa.”

My life is over.

I'll curl up in this cake and die now.

I can see the headlines. Professional hero Cellophane found naked and dead in a cake.

Thank you.  I’m sorry.

My God.

Clowns

Thanks

Good friend.

Lovely lady.

Pictures?  Seriously?”

Number one fan.

Beautiful.

I will not miss this opportunity. We would have the best story to tell our children how we met.

There better at least be a proposal before you plan of children.

Princess

Taglist- @kat-unzel

[realcube]

her prince || fairytale au! iida x reader

summary: you disguise as a princess in order to get into a formal event at the palace with the intention of killing the king but then you encounter the prince, soon to be king, and he’s a bit more charming than you’d like to admit.

(a/n): idk this might be a royalty au! or perhaps a medieval au! but idek tbh

tw// fem! reader, poison, mentions of animal zapping, begging, a bit of meanie iida

“Why does (y/n) get to be the princess?” Your friend, and fellow member of the SOIR, whined from beside you. “She has the most peasanty features out of us all!” 

Everyone else in the base groaned in union at her constant whining about the assigned roles, the ring leader of this operation — otherwise known as Katsuki Bakugo — finally broke his elongated silence as he previously seemed quite invested in whatever he was scribbling. 

Suddenly, he shot up from his desk then proceeded to slam his fist against it, causing all of it’s contents to tremble, “Shut up! As if you’re one to talk about peasanty features, Mina!” He barked at the girl, his aggressive demeanour faltering once he noticed how his hostility caused you to wear an alarmed expression. 

“We need her natural charm on the field, anyway.” he muttered, hastily sitting back down at his desk. Kirishima, Sero and Kaminari all had to do their best to suppress their snickers and focus on the tasks they had been given. However, they were all struggling as it was simply comedy gold to see their boss have such an evident crush on (y/n) but simultaneously be so far deep in denial for the sake of his pride.

Bakugo grabbed the scroll he had been writing on for the last few hours and held it up to display what looked like a numbered list, written in cursive. Therefore, you were unable to read it. In fact, none of you were able to read it; Bakugo was the only literate one among you, hence the reason why he immediately assumed leader of this operation even though it was originally your idea.

Upon noticing all of your blank expressions as you stared at what looked like a glorified piece of paper, he cleared his throat so he could begin explaining what he wrote to you. “I wrote out the plan-of-action for us to follow tomorrow but I forgot that you are all dunces so I’m going to have to read it aloud for you, aren’t I?”

You all nodded in unison which was promptly followed by Bakugo rolling his eyes once more and turning to read the plan.

“SOIR — stage one in (the) revolution — plan of action. Written and led by Katsuki Bakugo, soon to be King Explosion Murder!” He smiled to himself but it was accompanied by a chorus of groans from the rest of you.

“Step one; Kaminari steals a horse from his dad’s farm at exactly 5:15PM, rides it to the outskirts of the village so Sero can hook it up to the carriage. Meanwhile, Mina will assist (y/n) in putting on her gown and help ensure Kirishima puts on his suit and make-up properly. Afterwards, both parties will meet up by the carriage.

Step two; Sero will be coachman for the carriage to take (y/n) and Kirishima to the castle. Take the desired route and you should arrive at the palace by 6PM. 

Step three; Sero will drop off Kirishima and (y/n) then ride back to this base immediately, where Kaminari, Mina and myself will already be waiting. As for (y/n) and Kirishima, they will try to get into the palace and keep a low profile.”

You sighed, aware of how much Bakugo hates to be interrupted during his ‘serious monologue’, and you could tell it was one of those as he used your real names rather than the nicknames he’d given to you like ‘dunceface’ or ‘the pauper’. However, you just had to interject as you were yet to be filled in with some crucial information to your part of the operation.

“Bakugo,” You halted him as he finished his sentence, quickly averting your gaze to the floor as you had a habit of losing your train of thoughts as you looked into his fierce crimson eyes. “How are we supposed to get in? Are there any openings or secret passages you’ve located?” Your eyes widened in excitement at the idea that you could be like a proper assassin; using secret passages, going undercover, dealing with poison and all that good stuff! 

“No.” Bakugo replied bluntly, instantly shooting down any dreams you had of this being a cool mission. “Security on the palace will extremely tight considering this is a royal event. Only people who received an invite from the palace — hence, on the guest list — are allowed in, but I’ve already dealt with that obstacle--”

“You mean I dealt with that obstacle!” Kaminari cut him off with an offended tone before turning to look at you and Kirishima. “I was the one who zapped that messenger raven out of the sky to steal the invitation!” 

“Shut it, moron!” Bakugo barked, slamming his fist against the desk once again to grab everyone’s attention, his palm emitting tiny, and very much illegal, explosions. He slowly shifted his gaze on to you and spoke in an eerily soft tone, “Anyway, you and Kirishima will go under the aliases of ‘Princess Momo Yaoyorozu from the Yaoyorozu isles, and company’. So you will be able to waltz right in there, just don’t act suspicious.”

“How come (y/n) gets a cool, noble name and I am just ‘company’. Also, if my role is unspecified then why do I have to be her father? Can’t I just be her brother or something so I don’t have to wear that silly old-person wig?” Kirishima whined, immediately followed by Bakugo glaring daggers at him. 

“No, idiot, you have to be her father. If you dress as an old man then you’d be more likely to get in close proximity to the King.” Bakugo replied, impatience laced in his voice. He prided himself in coming up with such a logical excuse on the spot when in reality, the reason he wanted Kirishima to dress up as an old man was to guarantee that you don’t fall for him while on this mission. I mean, no matter how ravishing Kirishima was, how could you find him the least bit attractive while he looked like he was on the brink of extinction?

Kirishima grumbled inaudible curses under his breath as he slumped back in his chair defeatedly. Followed by Bakugo trying to resume his lecture but ceasing to do so as the familiar sound of groans erupted from all of you. 

“You’ve been over the last part of the plan, like, ten times already. Just today!” Mina pointed out, folding her arms of her chest and jutting her bottom lip out in disapproval. 

Sero hastily agreed with the girl, “Yeah! Here, I’ll summarise it for you.” Sero snickered before clearing his throat to prepare for his Bakugo impression, “ ‘You guys will sneak poison into the King’s quiche or whatever then I, King Explosion Murder, will come marching in to save the day and reclaim the land by declaring myself the new king! Bow to me, peasants!’ ” 

You and Mina both giggled at Sero’s rather accurate, yet satire, impersonation of the leader himself. While Kaminari and Kirishima both jokingly bowed to Sero, robotically muttering ‘all hail, king explosion murder.’

“Hey! Quit it!” Bakugo bellowed, furrowing his eyebrows as he clasped his hand together and pressed inwards, forcefully repressing his urge to blow up the whole fucking base. “I’m not going to go over the plan again so if one of you dumbasses mess it up tomorrow then you’re getting a boot to the face, got it?” 

“Yes, Lord Explosion Murder.” You all said monotonously in concert.

“You’re all fools!”

»»—————-　♔　—————-««

Step one, two and three had went smoothly. It almost seemed to good to be true.

Kaminari successfully managed to borrow the horses without anyone noticing, Mina did a spectacular job of making Kirishima look like an old man — as well as the skilful embroidery on your dress — and Sero managed to drive you here with all your limbs still intact. 

As for you and Kirishima, you both mastered the role of snobby aristocrats surprisingly fast, considering you both came from extremely deprived families. But it was as if the lifestyle just came naturally to you, hence you were both able to enter the castle without a problem.

However, no amount of acting expertise would allow you to hide the star-struck look which took over your features as you admired the massive Corinthian hall which you had the honour of stepping into. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, providing light along with the pale candles which sat in the alcoves of the walls. The roof was jaw-droppingly high and was expertly painted with detailed images of religious scenes; angels, the virgin mary, jesus, fairies, dragons, everything. 

At the other side of the hall sat none of than the King himself, looking smugly upon the crowds of people that filled his ballroom as he sat upon his extravagant throne, made of gold mined by slaves and welded together by citizens of the kingdom who were currently in poverty, but who the king also claimed to care so deeply about.

Disgusting. Consequent to seeing that evil vermin, your look of awe immediately dropped.

Your eyebrows knitted together as you simply could not avert your gaze from that man and his generally villainous demeanour that everybody just seemed to ignore. With a sigh, you leaned back against a pillar and mused, “Ugh, look at that vile creature just sitting here like he owns the place, just wait until he gets a taste of his own medicine. Right, Kirishima?”

You spoke, spinning your head around to look at your red-haired partner after you received nothing but a muffled ‘huh?’ as an answer. “What do you mea- oh!” you instantly cut yourself off upon realising that who you were spilling your plans to was not Kirishima but rather some dashing young man who was currently stuffing his was with damper bread.

“I- I am so sorry, sir. I thought you were someone else. Erm, uh, I shall take my leave now.” You stuttered, swiftly turning on your heels to bolt off in search of Kirishima but you were stopped in your tracks by the man scarfing the last piece he was holding to offer out his hand to you.

“No need to apologise! I, too, mistook you for someone else. That is why I was eating so gluttonously in your presence, my apologies.” He said, leaning forward into a bow to press a gentle kiss on your chuckles once you gave him your hand.

“I’m Tenya Iida, by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you!”  He spoke, his tone suddenly becoming a lot less formal after he straightened up from his bow while slowly retracting his hand. “And would I be right in assuming that you are Princess Yoayorozu of the Yoayorozu Isles?”

Now that he was standing straight, without a pudding in his hand, you could take a moment to discretely examine him. He stood tall with his shoulders back and his head high to perfectly balance his glasses on the bridge of his nose, everything about his posture screamed ‘royalty’, not to mention his blue undercut which was slicked back into a loose comb-over. As for his outfit, he wore a white shirt along with a royal blue tie which complemented his blazer which was a similar shade, with the kingdom’s crest positioned on the left hand side of his chest. There was also his straight-legged navy trousers, his black derby shoes and his matching designer watch but what really brought the outfit together was his bold, enchanting smile. 

You blinked a few time as it took a moment for that name to register in your mind but once it, you nodded rapidly in response. “Ah, yes, that would be me.” You chirped casually until his name finally clicked in you’re head, “Wait, are you Iida Tenya like- the king’s son Iida Tenya or?” You inquired, trying to act ‘casual’ as if you hadn’t been practising many week preparatory for today but the nervous look in your eyes was unconcealable.

Iida couldn’t help but chuckle at how bewildered you seemed while asking that question, “Well, yes, unfortunately.” He mumbled the last part but it was still said clearly enough for you to hear. “As you are probably aware, today is my coronation. But to say that I’m dreading the crowning is an understatement.”

You quirked an eyebrow at this new information. Well, it wasn’t really knew. The whole of SOIR knew that the formal event was going to the coronation for the new king. Hence, you and Kirishima were made aware that you had two targets to eliminate, but if you had known that the to-be king was such a cutie nice guy then perhaps you would’ve fought his case.

Logically speaking though, for this plan to work, both targets had to be eliminated. It was pointless to only poison the current king, as the crown would already be Tenya’s since the dinner which you planned to spike was going to be served after the crowning. And if you only poisoned Iida, not only would that upset you but the king would simply hand his status over to Tensei, who had been pushed back in the line for the crown due to his impairments after leading and fighting in many wars. 

But, how could you kill Tenya when he was just so...charming?

None the less, somebody had to it. The lives of many citizens were in your hands tonight, as success would lead to improved situations for all. Once the monarchy is gone, there will be nobody stopping you from using your quirks freely! Plus, the royals would no longer hoard all the luxury and wealth of the kingdom, so everybody would be able to lead happy lives, free from financial burdens.

The list goes on but for now, you just had to look that fetching prince right in the eyes and think to yourself, ‘he’s the reason i’m poor’; which was easy to believe considering that the watch adorning his left wrist was probably worth enough to free your whole family from poverty.

It somewhat worked, but not really. The way his honeyed crimson eyes would gaze into your own was enough to make your heart flutter but you mentally reassured yourself that you were most definitely not falling and heart palpitations were just a symptom from your lack of sleep.

“Anyway,” Iida began once more, the tips of his ears heating up as he realised that he had been staring at you for an elongated amount of time. “It has been lovely speaking to you today but it’s about time that I take my leave, duty calls.”  He said, mentally scolding himself for being such a creep and hoping that you paid no mind to his lengthened gaze.

“Ah, alright, I wouldn’t want to keep you any longer than needed.” You sung, awkwardly fidgeting with your fingers as you recalled the ‘manner classes’  Bakugo made you and Kirishima take part in to help you avoid instances like this where you had no clue how to formally end an interaction, with a prince of all people.

It was a long shot but it was your best guess. You swiftly grabbed Iida’s hand, pulled it up to your face and before he had time to react, you planted a kiss on his knuckles — just like had done to you — before bolting off into the sea of aristocrats to go find Kirishima. Leaving Iida standing, blushing more than ever, slightly confused but mostly amused. 

“She’s really something.” He muttered to himself, scratching the side of his neck before hurriedly marching towards the throne, in search of his brother.

Although their interaction was brief, Iida would be lying if he said he wasn’t silently praying that he’d run into the girl again.

»»—————-　♔　—————-««

Step 4 went perfectly. 

‘mingle for exactly 10 minutes until food preparation. Then, (y/n) will use her quirk to sneak into the kitchen while Kirishima distracts anyone that could catch her in the act.’

Bakugo’s gruff voice echoed throughout your head like that of a siren, as you waited for the perfect opportunity to spike the three large, extravagant platters of food laying on the golden trolley which was rumoured to deliver all three of the king’s daily meals. 

At first you thought you had an issue as you had no idea which meal belonged to which person, they all looked almost identical, meaning that you might accidently poison the wrong meal, hence murder Tensei in vain. However, then you recalled a piece of wisdom Bakugo had given you offhandedly once, ‘y’know, there’s a tradition in this kingdom stating that the elders should be served the most salad on the side of a dish — so hand over your cucumbers, bitch!’

So with that in mind, your arm emerged from the shadows once most of the cooks had cleared from the kitchen to tend to other duties, and you dropped some of the poison into the dish with the most salad and the dish with the least to ensure that Tensei got to see the light of tomorrow. 

I mean, you could’ve just poisoned all three to avoid doing all that critical thinking but not only was it risky, you also kind of had a soft spot for Tensei despite the fact he was basically double your age.

Utilising the shadows as your disguise, you stuck out of the kitchen yet you were unable to find a pathway back into the ballroom since there were just so many chefs crowding around the entrance to kitchen. You were sure to get caught if you exited the shadows from there but luckily, there was alternative.

There was a back door of the kitchen which led out into the grand garden, allowing the chefs to waft the smoke out and into the open air, if needed. So through the shadows, you were able to sneak out into the garden without being noticed by a single person. 

Or so you thought.

As you jumped out of the shadows and swiftly turned a corner to look for a route back into the palace, you were greeted by a familiar face that wore an incredibly stunned expression. From behind their glasses, they squinted to try recognise you through the dark night. 

“Oh, Ms Yaoyorozu.” Iida chuckled, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as he realised that it was you he had bumped in to during his attempt at ditching his own coronation. Also, since he had just witnessed you doing a rather illicit act. “I’m not sure if you were ever made aware, but quirk usage is very much forbidden in this kingdom.”

You blinked rapidly, surprised at how oddly level-headed he was being about having just watched you sneak out of the kitchen, “Oh-” you choked, looking around to see if anybody else was around but the coast seemed to be clear; well, as far as you could tell, but that wasn’t easy considering the foggy night appeared to fleece everything. “I am so sorry. I was never told about such rules but I’ll be su--”

“Yes, you were.” 

There was a while of silence between the two of you. To say you were taken aback was a understatement, why was he suddenly so confrontational? And why did he say that with such a nasty look in his eyes? Does he know something you do not? Even though you had only met him barely an hour ago, you could still tell that his comment was quite out-of-character. Hence you were hardly able to stammer out a reply, “W-w- um, was I?”

The tip of Iida’s lips twitched upwards as examined your bewildered expression; it brought him infinite amounts of amusement at how ignorant you must’ve thought he was to imagine that he could fall for your silly little ploy. 

“Yes. Well, I mean, Ms Yaoyorozu had knowledge of these laws; the rules of the kingdom were attached to the invite, but you’ve made it rather clear that you’re not Yaoyorozu.”  The words rolled off his tongue, each one sharper than the last; he didn’t plan on calling you out on your impersonation tonight but as his eyes skimmed over the terrified expression on you face, he was immensely glad that he did.

“So, tell me, who are you? Other than a scum-of-the-earth imposter that deserves to rot in slums for the rest of their poor, pathetic life.

You faltered slightly at his threat before blurting out, “Momo’s cousin.”

Iida snorted, but quickly tried to force a serious scowl back onto his features, “Exactly how gullible do you think I am?”

At this point, you were at a loss. The prince stood angry in front of you; meaning that it only took a yell for most of the guards in the palace come marching over to you, before tossing into the dungeon cell which you would have no choice but to call home for the rest of your life.

So if you didn’t act fast and wisely, this could be the last moment of freedom you’ll ever experience.

Throwing away your pride, you dropped to your knees in front of the prince, leaning forward to press your forehead against the shining tops of his derby shoes as you cried, but not loud enough to catch the guard’s attention.

 “Please, your highness! I- I’m just a kid; like you! I swear I wasn’t here to cause trouble, I just--” your pleas were cut off by your own saliva getting temporarily caught in your throat but this gave you the opportunity to conjure up a believable excuse.

“I just--” you repeated, desperately attempting to come up with something until you mindlessly blurted out, “I just wanted to feel like royalty! Please give me another chance!”

Iida eyes widened at this; was it too far-fetched to believe that you created an elaborate plan to sneak into the palace, all for the ‘aesthetic’? Perhaps. But the way your glossy, sorrow-filled eyes looked up at him from the ground made his heart sink to his stomach while a sickly feeling ascended to his throat.

He felt so guilty.

In a moment of panic, he used his power to threaten and frighten a poor girl to the point where she was now begging for life on the paving beneath him. Although you were technically a felon, there seemed to be no malicious intentions behind your crime so why should you be prosecuted for it? Yet Iida still used his status to instil fear into you, solely to feel superior.

Perhaps he is not as different from his father as he once thought; a horrible feeling really, as Tenya despised no one more than that man. Iida wants no association with him or the horrible monocracy established in the kingdom. Which is why he chose to run away from his coronation. He hoped to fake his own kidnapping for a few weeks, then he’d come out of hiding and pray that Tensei had been given the crown instead.

He couldn’t bare seeing you on the dirty ground any longer so he hastily took your hand to assist you in standing back upright, “It’s-- you’re pardoned, just please come with me. This’ll only take a moment.” 

At this point you’d just go along with anything he said, under the assumption that if you disobeyed, you’d be banished. So you trailed behind him, his hand acting as your guide since you could hardly see past the tears which clouded your vision. 

You both approached a white wooden gazebo with a matching pale metal bench, he quickly took a seat and pulled you down next to him, sandwiching your hand in-between his own and caressing the back with his thumb as he waited patiently for you blubbers to die down. 

His lips fell into a frown as he watched you desperately wipe the tears away from under your eyes but smear your expertly applied mascara in the process, “My sincerest apologies; I don’t know what came over me.” He spluttered, harshly biting his bottom lip to silence himself. 

You took deep breaths, hurriedly trying to compose yourself before the prince snapped at you again. So, once the tears had stop brimming in your eyes, you looked at him with a ready expression. However, your faint sniffles, red eyes and smudged make-up didn’t do a good job at reinforcing it.

“Alright,” Iida started, removing one of his hands from yours to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I understa--”

“Are you going to imprison me?”

Iida choked on thin air, his eyes widening at your random — but seemingly genuine — inquiry. “Good heavens, no! Never! What makes you think that?” Was he really that menacing? He was only a prince and he was already using his authority for intimidation. Iida could only imagine how mad with power he’d become if he were to take the crown.

Good thing he wasn’t going to. 

The reality of the situation you were in hit you like a truck as you caught a glimpse of the time from Iida’s designer watch since he had his hand resting upon your knee. You inhaled sharply, doing your best to compose yourself, “Sir-”

“No need to call me ‘sir’, I’m Tenya. Plus, we’re around the same age so ‘sir’ is hardly appropriate.” He chuckled, his lips forming a reassuring smile. In any other case, he’d go by Iida but he didn’t want you to associate him with his father in any sense, even if it was just by surname.

“Oh, how rude of me. I completely forgot to ask, what’s your name? And you have my word that I won’t do anything spiteful with this information.”

“I’m (y/n).” You replied without a second though, before continuing, “Your crowning is supposed to be in 10 minutes, correct? I think you should get going.” You hummed, trying your best to hide how tense and conflicted you were. If Iida doesn’t bugger off right now then he’s gonna miss the ceremony which will lead to a high chance of the event being rescheduled, therefore you’re going to have to act out this plan all over again! How many more messenger ravens does Kaminari need to zap?! 

But on the other hand, there was some part of you that really didn’t want him to leave for some reason; perhaps you enjoyed his company a little more than you’d like to admit. Another part of you said that he doesn’t deserve to die, he’s too nice of a guy; then you remembered the evil, corrupt glint in his eyes as he told you about the fate he wished upon you just a few minutes ago, then you didn’t feel as bad.

Your kind reminder was met by Iida simply shaking his head, “Absolutely not! There is no way I can leave you after I said those horrible things. Plus, it’s not as if I want to be king, anyway.” He mumbled the last part but of course you heard it as his face was only a few inches away from yours.

“Why don’t you want to be king?” 

Iida didn’t even hesitate to reply with the response that had been waiting on the tip of his tongue, “I shan’t participate in the monarchy. I plan on staying in hiding for a week before coming out, hopefully by then Tensei will be crowned king and I will get to lead the army instead.” 

As soon as his plan fell from his lips, his eyes immediately widened. Why was he telling you this?! I mean, now that you knew his plan, once he ‘goes missing’ you could easily tell the king that this was part of his scheme all along, in which case the king wouldn’t crown Tensei and instead send out search parties for Tenya. But then again, why would the king listen to a pauper like you? No offence, it’s just that those who come from a lower social status are less likely to be allowed in the castle, and less likely to meet the king. 

So he reasoned to himself that there was no harm in telling you his plan, but a part of him couldn’t help but wonder why he subconsciously felt comfortable enough to tell you in the first place. I mean, he’s only known you for an evening; surely there’s no why he’s caught feelings this fast, right?

Your heart skipped a beat upon hearing his circumstances, thinking that this was the end of SOIR, but the more you thought about it, you realised that perhaps this was a good thing. 

This meant that — assuming the king eats the meal prepared for him regardless of the ceremony — the king will be dead so the only person you’d have to eliminate was Tensei who was widely known to be more lenient about the rules of the kingdom. I mean, he let his troops take a water-break during battle for goodness’ sake! Assassinating him should be a piece of cake, especially for the SOIR.

Also, this ensures that you won’t have to kill Tenya, which is a thought that made you oddly happy and relieved. 

Sniffling quietly, you rubbed beneath your eyes to further mess up the eyeliner and mascara Mina had done for you. Then you hummed, “Oh, that’s cool, Tenya.”

“And I would like for you to be my bride once I emerge from hiding!” 

You froze, blinking rapidly and inquiring further in hopes that perhaps you misheard him, “Huh? Your what?”

“Bride!” He chirped, scanning the baffled look on your face and figuring that he should elaborate, “See, I think it works in both of our favours; you get to live a somewhat royal life and I get to settle down with someone who my father did not pick out for me. Plus, though I’m no love expert, I can definitely feel something special between the two of us. I hope that’s not just me being a fool. But anyway, I completely understand if you refuse, marriage is a huge commitment.”

Even after he finished explaining, you still sat there staring at him, absolutely flabbergasted that he really just asked you to marry him. Also, quite shocked that there was a scarily large part of you that wanted to accept his offer. 

“Tenya, we literally just met a few hours ago.”

“Six, to be exact.” he corrected you, accompanied by a little shrug as to say ‘who cares?’

“And we are both sixteen.” You continued to rationalise but talking to Iida when he’s dead-set on something was like talking to a brick wall; a brick wall that provided logical arguments, the worst kind of wall.

“The average life expectancy in this kingdom is 35 years of age so if you think about, we’re basically half way through our lives already. Why not settle down?” 

Although, his statements were annoying as hell, the charming smile that decorated his face while he spoke was enough to convince that he was right. Despite the fact those statistics were clearly a sample from the lower class; royalty would obviously live to a much higher age. Plus, he was definitely correct about the special feeling between the two of you, like you have genuinely never felt more endeared by a person’s presence before, especially after they were just wishing hellfire upon you a few minutes ago. six, to be exact

As he sat there and exchanged a longing gaze with you, the voice in your head that wanted you to accept his proposal was getting larger and larger by the second, drowning out the voice that strictly wanted to put an end to his clownery and that voice sounded eerily like bakugo. You’re a woman of logic, and logic says you should accept. Because, if you say no, there’s no turning back and you’ll probably never get another opportunity like this again in your life. But if you say yes, you have two whole weeks to make up your mind as to whether you actually want to marry him or not, and if you don’t, you can always break up with him after he comes out of hiding. Additionally, you’ll be able to go back to the base and confer with the SOIR as to what you should do. Also, you were kinda in love with him, but logic disregards love.

Iida moved his hand from your knee to hold both of your hand in his own while his gaze filled with yearned remained locked onto your eyes, he’s truly never seen anyone more beautiful before. Despite the fact you make-up was ruined, tears were stained to your face and mascara was smeared under your eyes, you still looked ten times more divine than any queen he’s ever seen. 

“So, (y/n), what do you say?”

[hanadoesstuffbadly]

Daughter of Giants

"You should move along, Giant, we don't want your sort around here." The bartender's voice was low and authoritative, the voice of a man not easily ignored, but one didn't need the ears of a bat to make out the tremors coursing through it. Everything about him was a well made manor with good foundations, but Aravis could tell it was built on sand. Give him a little shake and everything would start slipping.

Aravis smirked and tapped her fingers idly against the bar's puckered wooden surface. A part of her cursed  how ineffective her disguise had been proving recently, even after she's taken to covering her folc markings. The last thing she needed now was to have word of a nomadic folcwoman travelling the Engle Lands like a sad silk trader. Her tankard's rim just brushed her lips as she held it there and she concentrated on the fact that the man had not moved along, still standing just out of sight behind her mustard coloured hood. If he just needed a shake, why was she feeling inclined to rattle him until the very bricks of his character were dust to be scraped off of her heel. Maybe she was too tired for this today, too done with walkers and their sloppy, indelicate ineptitude. But at the same time, her ichor was roaring through her veins, violet and rushing. It made her lungs burn like magma beneath the island's crust. Her titanic heart yearned for a fight. It had been too long.

"My sort?" Silk dropped into her tone inadvertently, turning her deep, hoarse, broken voice into an almost mechanical purr. Fear rippled through the room like ribbons. It was a cool breeze in a suffocating glare of self-importance and Aravis breathed it in.

"You're a bounty-hunter!" Not the bartender, but a nasal, underdeveloped voice called from the crowd of patrons that had interrupted their own meals to gawk like a gaggle around what had been a peaceful evening drink. Aravis didn't bother seeking out the speaker (though she suspected one of the pasty, mealy shepherds seated closer to the entrance. An easy escape, she mused, smart choice.) Her brow, however, creased at his choice of words. Bounty hunters were perhaps the lowest of the low creatures grovelling on the earth's filthy surface. Turning in fellows of your kind for the reward of others? Had they no sense of honour or kinship at all. Had a folcman or woman acted in such a way, they would be plunged beneath the clouds to the endless oceans below and ripped to shreds by the wild, Bacchic merpeople of the depths. Honour, trust, loyalty; mere dramatic concepts to be learned and forgotten by those thugs like poor poetry.

"Now what would give you that idea?" Likely her stature or lack of ladylike grace. Maybe-

"The ends of your hair. They're white." The thought died before it even took shape in her mind. A chill crawled up around her shoulders, turning the thick muscle there into cold stone. She was frozen in place, barely able to open her mouth to reply through gritted teeth, her head bowed lower toward the counter and her tankard rested against her suddenly ringing forehead.

"Why," she ground out, "would that," turning slowly like a tin doll, her eyes flashed, "mark me out?" Moonlight flashed against a bronze knife behind the bar and it set the room aflame. The man- boy really- stood and quaked like a tethered kite before the entrance like it was a headwind. He had a round, dark, unfinished face; the face of a scholar or bard, not a warrior. Nevertheless, Aravis wanted nothing more than to turn it blue with bruises.

"I've heard stories," He shuddered and searched any face but hers for help "my father's a pepper merchant, he told me about you and your kind." The idea of some miserable, slimy, slithering underwalker's tongue speaking of her ‘kind’ made Aravis' fists curl. "Your hair is dark and- and blue, right?" He was slipping, but didn't run. Yet. "He used to say, when- when what was inside your head became darker, your hair literally started paling in comparison... Making the tips turn white... And- I-I thought..."

"Tom Tom, that's enough." Hissed the bartender.

Aravis was very still. Whispers are meant to be lost in the chaos. Aravis’ words were like breaths, yet each one rang in the floorboards and out of the door like the echoes of screams.

"Your father is well-learned. Darkness seeping into every crevice of the mind, turning you into a miasma veiled in flesh? What better fits that description than a callous, underhanded criminal? What could be so dark, so evil, as to turn the tips of my hair so pale?"

With one hand she tore the hood from her head. And not a breath was drawn as their pathetic faces took in the blank, dull cascades, the colour of new snow. Cold and dead. White to the roots.

She closed her eyes when the whispers started seeping into their fear, and as always, before her there stretched a great gash in the clouds on which she, still an adolescent wrapped in sunlight, stood. Beneath that crevice she saw the island of the underwalkers. But she wasn't looking at them. Instead, all that filled her vision was the great, massive warrior lying like unwanted venison beside the hulking, grotesque, monstrous corpse of a Beanstalk. And the underwalkers were dancing. At their head, leading them on there stood a creature of pale flesh and golden hair. To others he might have looked like a child, beautiful and beaming. Aravis knew what he really was. The axe was still in his hands. That smiling, glittering face was the last thing she saw before the vision cleared and Aravis opened her eyes to the bar counter. 

Shards of metal and broken wood lay before her. Her hand was bloodied by purple ichor. Still lodged within the cut were some remains of the crushed tankard. But it was her eyes that were burning with pain.

The whispers had ceased. And so had the roar in her veins. She was ice.

Standing, she swept her cloak aside to rest both hands on her hips, her feet apart. She was taller now than she had been when she entered, and now the crest of her ringed headband just skimmed the ceiling. Everybody in the room cowered below her. It felt right.

"Indeed. I am a hunter. But what I'm after is not the reward of a slippery, stupid nobleman. It is justice. And it is mine alone." the low rasp of her voice grew full and round as pride swelled within, "as a daughter of the mighty Laestrygonians."

At the name of her folc, new horror trickled into slow running red blood all around her. So many eyes darted to the door, for escape. Many more became fixed on her lips or, more specifically, on the teeth that lay behind them. Aravis didn’t need to be a mind mage to know they were wondering how much mortal flesh had been shredded upon them. That stout bartender was the first to finish quivering.

"Who do you seek, great Giantess? I will tell you all that I know, just don't hurt any of my customers, I beg of you!" Ugh. Begging. Typical underwalkers.

"I'm hunt Prince Jack of Gaul. As I have for almost ten years." Voice rising such that everyone might hear, she let fear carry her words. "He has taken something very precious from me, many things in fact, and I intend to exact justice."

“But, he’s been missing over three years! Many young princes have been.” Aravis was well aware of that. So close. She had been so close she could see the ridiculous peak of his hair, illuminated under dragon fire. But the presence of one of the more powerful fae had forced to keep her distance. But she had him cornered. It was almost over. And then he was gone.

“Haven’t you heard? They’re back, now.” Every head turned back to the scholarly boy by the entrance. “Yeah, the entire Fearless-”

But Aravis was deaf to the world.

They’re back now. He’s back now. He’s back. Again, and again, and again. The sound of clouds being split down the middle and the shining eyes of the blonde, beautiful murderer. And dancing. Aravis’ eyes were filled with axes, ichor and dancing.

Her bident spear was in her hand one moment and whistling across the room the next. The boy- Tom Tom he’d been called- was pinned between its prongs like a fish, flailing and panicked. He grasped at the twin spikes which were twice as thick as his arm. As Aravis strode over, he just resisted going limp.

With her feelings crashing and shrieking in her head, Aravis paid no attention to the fact that the ceiling had splintered around it. She didn’t notice the splinters to timber that clawed at her waist, nor the frigid night air whipping her face as she waded through the bar like mud. People the size of dolls scurried for the exit, while the one she wanted remained pinned. Until she knelt down and gripped the long handle of her weapon, pushing it closer into his throat.

“Where?” Was all she managed. Everything inside was a storm that even she herself was becoming lost in.

“I- I don’t know! I was told by a friend!”

“WHERE?!” Her bellow ricocheted off the dark sky itself like thunder and the bident spear-head pressed harder against his trachea until he gasped for air.

“STONEBURY!” Violent sobs wracked his body but Aravis did not relent, “GLASS STONEBURY! MY FRIEND HORNER IS IN GLASS STONEBURY! HE CAN TELL YOU!”

Only then, with a grunt of dark satisfaction did she pull the spear from the wall, releasing him. With the first real, tangible feeling she had felt in years melting into her veins, she shrank back down until she was practically the same stature she had been when she had arrived. The bar’s roof was gone, allowing freezing wind to howl through. She cared not.

Aravis finished a drink that had been abandoned on a table in the panic. It was revolting, crude stuff, typical for underwalkers. But a smile was curled on her face regardless.

"What will you do once you find the prince? He's a hero, and has many powerful friends!" So the bartender had stayed, she hadn’t counted on that. She graciously turned to look at him, feeling lighter than she had in almost four years.

"Simple. I will rend his arms from his sides. I will cast his broken body across the air until each and every bone is ground into dust."

"They'll see you coming, people have already run to tell others of you."

"You speak as if I’d intended this to be a slaughter. You are wrong.” Aravis’ hood fell to the floor and her hand reached into her satchel. She sighed softly when her fingers met the gentle, rippling fabric of her cloak. Her mother’s cloak. “It’s an execution.” she pulled it free, letting it grow in size until it could wrap around her completely. Her legs and torso disappeared from sight. “And I must have him know his sentence.”

Turning, she vanished behind the concealment of the cloak and into the darkness of the night. The Engle Lands were solitary, located deep in the marshes of Fairytale Island. 

It wasn’t far to Glass Stonebury. And then all that was left was to find this Horner.

Just an intro that I couldn't get out of my head since creating Aravis (her name was Astrid originally). I kinda want to write a whole fic about this but I'm not sure since it would be pretty much all my ocs... I'm imagining basically zootopia but with a Giant princess and a bounty hunter.

Also ive already started about two big projects with no third chapter soooo.....

[kinglivv]

25 with missy? xxx

Mine

Summary: The Doctor asks you to come travelling with her, and for a minute Missy worries you're going to say yes.

Warnings: none

"Come with me, Y/N."

You stared at The Doctor's outstretched hand. You knew today was going to be different, but you didn't know it would end like this.

Up until now, things had been fun. You and Missy had chased The Doctor and her companions around the four corners of the universe all day, driving them loopy with various schemes and plans.

You had her cornered now, standing on a rooftop in the city you had lured her too, her companions elsewhere. Missy had left you to do the honours, a detonator and the fate of thousands in your hands. One press of this button would blow up the entire city below you.

Apparently, The Doctor had given up all other means of argument, turning to you.

Missy's weak spot.

Her hand was held out to you, a hopeful look on her face.

She was asking you to come with her.

The Doctor had always liked you throughout all her regenerations. You'd liked her too, but not enough to throw yourself at her like her many companions did (You saved that sort of thing for Missy).

You had never expected The Doctor's liking for you to lead to this, though. She should know there was only one person in the universe you would ever commit to like that.

You glance up from her hand to stare at that person, who is currently standing next to you. You expect Missy to grab you, snatch you away from The Doctor, but she doesn't.

Instead, she's frozen, a look of fear and doubt clouding her eyes as they flick inbetween you two.

"Y/N," The Doctor says gently, bringing your attention back to her. "You can do better than her."

"Doctor, don't you dare," Missy says, her voice quiet and dangerous.

If The Mistress had two striking personality traits, it was how murderous and how possessive she was. They were both beginning to peak through her current calm façade, along with the uncertainty and insecurity.

The Doctor ignores her.

"Come with me. We can see the universe."

You look inbetween them again, at the hope in The Doctor's face and the fear in Missy's.

She thinks you're actually going to leave her.

You step back from The Doctor.

"No," You shake your head. "Sorry, just... no."

You hear Missy breathe a shakey sigh of relief while The Doctor breathes a disappointed one.

"I want to go home now. Please?" You ask softly, partly to The Doctor, partly to Missy.

You hand the detonator back to Missy, who stuffs it in her pocket. You weren't really in the mood for blowing things up anymore. She slips her hand into your now free one and holds it as tight as she can, as if she thinks letting go might mean you'll crumble away and disappear.

The Doctor swallows, looking defeated. She turns back to her TARDIS, disappearing inside. Neither of you stop her

---

As soon as you step inside Missy's TARDIS, she's grabbing you and slamming you against the door.

"Tell me you didn't think about going with her." She bares her teeth. "Not even for one second."

"Do you really think I would leave you?"

She responds by pressing you harder against the door, and you decide not to bring up the fact that you were pretty sure there had been tears in her eyes.

"You like her," Missy reasons.

"A bit," You tell her. "But not enough to run about the universe with her and her little group of do-gooders."

She hums.

"Besides," Your voice dropping seductively. "Something about her tells me she's not a top."

Missy grins, her hand sneaking up to your throat.

"Good." She hisses. "Because you're mine. I don't share."

You respond by closing the gap between you two and kissing her as hard as you can, despite the fact you're pinned to the wall. She bites back into it, freeing one of your arms so she can bury a hand in your hair and you can slide your arm around her waist.

"I will never leave you," You say firmly when she eventually allows you to pull away.

"You're sure?"

Again, very briefly you see that flash of real insecurity in her face. Your hand slips down to grab hers.

"I promise."

[sistersofthelightforce]

Facing Facts: The Diplomat

He supposes it’s fair that Padme still is angry at him. Of all people, she probably has the most right to be.

After that first mission, things change a little. She doesn’t leave the moment he arrives in Luke or Ahsoka’s chambers.

“Anakin, just in time, I was about to put on some tea,” Ahsoka chirps. She bustles into the kitchen, leaving Anakin and Padme in the lounge together.

Normally, Padme would make excuses and leave, but today, she stays seated and gives him a small smile. “How are you today, General Skywalker?”

“I’m doing well, I guess.” Anakin rubs the back of his neck. “How are you?”

“Busy, but well. Trying to set up the New Republic from beyond the grave isn’t an easy task.” Her tone is casual, but Anakin feels like there is a bite to it.

The silence between the two of them is horrendous. Anakin feels frustrated. They used to be able to talk for hours, or spend equally as much time simply enjoying each other’s company. Now that bond is ruined, and Anakin-

Anakin is furious with himself for it. It’s all his fault, all because of his actions. He misses his wife, and he knows he’s going to have to work hard to even have a chance of her forgiveness.

The old Anakin would blame her, would be angry and insist none of this was his fault, that everyone should be nicer to him about it.

Now, he knows better.

(But he doesn’t understand until a lot later why Padme smiles so widely when Ahsoka comes in, curls up against Anakin and informs him, “you’re warm.”)

It’s not always good. Padme is under a lot of stress trying to help Queen Karee get everything under control. She seems very pressured, and Ahsoka often murmurs with her in soft Boona. (He knows the difference between Boona and Asna now. Boona is more flowing, and sounds quite elegant. Asna is more guttural, but just as beautiful in Anakin’s opinion.)

He supposes he was bound to misstep at one point.

It’s just an ordinary day when he bursts into Ahsoka’s chambers, only to find them silent, except for Padme.

Padme is sitting with tears running down her face, clutching a holo of a baby girl- Leia, he assumes.

“Padme?” He asks softly.

She whirls around to look at him, her distress growing.”You!”

Anakin isn’t sure what to do so he stays silent.

“This is all your fault! Everything is your fault!” Padme shrieks. “I missed everything! Their first words, their first smiles, their first steps! I didn’t get any of that! I didn’t get to raise them because of you!”

Oh. Oh no.

“You took everything from me! I finally get Ahsoka back and you’ve broken her. You kill her time after time and still she forgives you? You left her to rot on some Sith poodoohole!” Padme shouts, fists balling at her side. “How could you?”

“Padme I-” He begins, but she cuts him off.

“I know! I know you’re sorry! I know Palpatine manipulated you. He manipulated everyone! I was the one who put him in power for force’s sake! But that doesn’t excuse what you did. You can’t just come back here and expect everything to be fine!” Padme is sobbing now, anger radiating off of her in the force.

“I didn’t,” he says softly, not quite talking to her.

“You did! You did! And I get everything is fine with Ahsoka, and whatever the hell went on with Obi-Wan, you guys seem fine now. But we were married! We were married and I’ve spent the majority of the time I’ve known you trying to fight you, trying to clean up what you’ve destroyed!” Padme lets out an anguished sob. “We were married and you tried to kill me. You used the force to strangle me and you didn’t even think of what could have happened to the twins!”

Anakin doesn’t like to think about that day on Mustafar. He feels so guilty. “I should never have used violence upon anyone I care about. Especially my wife. That was the worst thing I could have done-”

“YOU MURDERED CHILDREN!” Padme shrieks. “YOU’VE DONE SO MANY AWFUL THINGS. AND NOW I’M NOT EVEN ALLOWED TO BE ANGRY AT YOU!”

Ahsoka comes in at this point. “Mom? Dad? What’s going on?”

“Everything was getting better.” Padme sounds so quiet, so broken. “Why did he have to come back?”

“Oh Mom.” Ahsoka sends a quick look to Anakin (he wonders, later, if it is to make sure he isn’t going to destroy anything), but he makes a gesture towards Padme, and Ahsoka wraps her arms around her mother. Padme murmurs brokenly into Ahsoka’s shoulder. “I know Mom, I know.”

Ahsoka comes after him later.

“I’m fine,” he says sharply.

“She’s been bottling it up for a while. She should have talked to you and processed it, she should have talked to one of us about it, but she didn’t,” Ahsoka explained.

“I deserved it, it’s fine,” Anakin replies firmly.

Ahsoka tucks her head against his shoulder. “It’s all so complicated. She’s right to be angry at you, I can’t be mad at her for that. But you’re still my dad, and I hate you guys fighting.”

Anakin nods. “It’s ok that she’s mad. It’s fair.” He presses a kiss to Ahsoka’s forehead. “I think I’ll leave her be for a bit. I’ll give you guys space for a couple weeks, then I might just give her space at family stuff. I think letting her cool off might be the best plan.”

“Like after senate debates.” Ahsoka laughs.

Anakin chuckles earnestly. “Just like after senate debates.”

So he spends the next two weeks avoiding Padme as much as possible, then at family nights, he sits away from her and tries to be as out of her way as possible.

Anakin decides the best way to get through this is just to spend time with his kids, so he goes to meet Ahsoka at the gym. He freezes when he sees Padme.

She’s sitting on the bench while Ahsoka practises with a training droid a distance away. His daughter slices through it with ease, then puts it back together with her magic and goes again.

Padme is on her holopad when Anakin sits down beside her. “You know, she’s always been good with those things,” he muses.

“She certainly has. Her lightsaber skills are among the best.” Padme looks up and smiles gently. “She had a good teacher.”

Anakin chuckles a little and sighs. “Look, Padme, I know that I’m probably the last person you want hanging around-”

“Can you blame me?” She interjects.

“No! That’s what I’m saying!” He says quickly. “I don’t blame you, you have every right to hate me. And I’m truly sorry. I’ve done horrible things, and I promise I’ll spend every day trying to make up for it.”

Padme’s eyes are calculating, then a dangerous grin appears on her face. “Spar with me.”

“What?!” Anakin replies, sure he’s heard her wrong.

“You heard me, General Skywalker. Spar with me, and if you even get close to beating me, maybe I’ll consider forgiving you,” Padme explains.

“I-um- if you’re sure.” Anakin gets up, and follows Padme to a space nearby.

Ahsoka looks over at them and sighs before grinning. “Ota.”

“Here, Obi-Wan always insists I carry a spare lightsaber. I’ll go easy on you.” Anakin passes her his spare blade, tone genuine. He doesn’t want to hurt or humiliate Padme.

Padme smirks. “Oh, I’m quite sure I’ll be fine, General Skywalker.’

Padme pulls out her own lightsaber, and the blade glows a deep purple, more blue than Master Windu’s magenta blade.

Ah. Alright then.

Padme swings and Anakin has to move quickly to block it. She strikes again and parries quickly.

Padme stays at his level, striking forcefully and blocking everything Anakin throws at him.

Padme is good. Better than good. She could beat some of the best in the order, Anakin thinks.

Her style is disciplined, but forceful. She moves quickly, and adapts just as fast. It’s not a style he recognises. He guesses she’s had some formal training, but has otherwise learned through experience. It makes her skilled though, possibly even more than him.

Soon the two are in a lock, blades pressed together, both of them gritting their teeth in effort.

Padme pushes his blade out the way, throwing off Anakin’s balance and his blade skitters to the side.

Anakin falls backward, and Padme has her blade at his chest, a triumphant smirk on her face.

“Alright, you win!” Anakin concedes, putting his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender.

Padme puts her lightsaber away and offers him her hand. He takes it, and she pulls him up.

“I’m going to guess you’re a Sister, aren’t you?” Anakin asks.

“One of the originals, just like Ahsoka,” Padme replies with a laugh.

Anakin looks over at his daughter, who is cackling. “Did you know about this?” He demands, but his tone is light.

“Of course she did. She helped teach me to use a lightsaber, Anakin,” Padme explains.

“Your face when she pulled out her lightsaber!” Ahsoka exclaims while laughing.

“Yeah, yeah. I should have known. Come on, let’s go get something to eat.” Anakin slings an arm around the still-snickering Ahsoka.

Padme gives him a fond look. “Sounds good to me. I could kill for some shurra fruit right now.”

He decides not to doubt that.

Iith has an official ball every year, and now the war is over, it appears people can afford to focus on it (much to its queen’s despair).

Padme obviously, as one of Iith’s top advisors, organises a great deal with it, and her eyes shine with pride on the night.

His children are happily talking to other people their age, others of a new generation of Jedi (and some of the old generation, in Ahsoka’s case).

He watches Ahsoka talking with the old apprentice of Master Billaba, Kanan, as he’s now called. He walks up and puts a hand on Ahsoka’s arm. “Hey kiddo, who’s this?”

Ahsoka rolls her eyes and smiles at him. “This is Kanan Jarrus, Sister Syndulla’s husband. Kanan, this is my father, Anakin Skywalker.”

Kanan looks at him with wide eyes and Anakin braces himself for the reaction he’s become quite used to getting. “General Skywalker. It’s an honour,” he says breathlessly.

Anakin almost has to steady himself. It’s been a very long time since anybody has reacted positively to meeting him. “Pleasure’s all mine. And please, call me Anakin.”

He chats with them for a bit, then he spots Padme being interrogated by some old lord. To anyone who knows her well, she looks horrendously annoyed at his questioning, but she seems to be keeping her cool.

He nudges Ahsoka through their bond, and she looks where he is looking out the corner of her eye.

“Hey Dad, maybe you should go rescue Mom,” she jokes.

“You’re right. See you round, Kanan.” He pats the starstruck man on the shoulder and walks over to where Padme is standing.

And suddenly he feels like that padawan again, baring his soul.

On reflection, the way he spoke on Naboo all that time ago back then was odd. He was just a kid and truly, he didn’t actually know Padme then, and he was way too forward about it. He’s glad it worked, but it was still weird.

He’ll do it right this time, if she still wants him.

“Sister Amidala, may I have the honour of a dance?” He shifts awkwardly, barely looking up at Padme.

When he does look, she seems relieved, in her diplomatic way. “I would be happy to oblige, General Skywalker.”

Anakin offers his hand, which she takes with all the grace of the Queen she once was.

She leads them both to the dance floor, and they slip easily into the dance, swaying side to side, and Anakin watches those around them stare. He decides he doesn’t care.

“Sorry for all that. He looked like he was being a sleemo so I thought I’d-” he stammers.

“Anakin. It’s fine. Thank you,” Padme says gently but firmly.

The silence isn’t uncomfortable this time. They sway, and he spins Padme, then almost falls backwards when he brings her back in. Padme very subtly uses the force to keep him balanced.

“Thanks,” he mutters.

Padme laughs softly. “You’re welcome.”

They get back into such a natural rhythm that it reminds him of the days in Padme’s apartment on Coruscant, where they’d play music and just dance the night away.

He supposes she must be thinking the same thing, because she rests her head on his shoulder, then starts back, remembering where they are.

“Hey-hey, it’s alright,” Anakin says quickly, as Padme looks horrified. “I don’t mind.”

“I- I just forgot,” Padme stammers. “I just-” she sighs. “Just because I’m angry at you doesn’t mean I don’t miss the time we spent together,” Padme admits.

“I miss it too,” Anakin confesses. “I did awful things. I’m trying to make it better. Our family-” he glances around at his kids, who, though scattered about the room, are all staring at them, “-are the most important thing to me. I’m so glad to finally have the chance to be with them.” He looks over at Obi-Wan, who is dancing with Satine. “I have my kids, and my brother, and I’ll do everything I can to fight for them.”

When he looks back at Padme, she is beaming. “It is good to be a family, finally, and not have to hide anything anymore.”

He meets her eyes, and smiles.

Kissing Padme feels like coming home.

—-

Ota- Mother/Mum (Boona)

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

It's Reformation Month!

Most Christians have heard the names of John Calvin, Martin Luther, John Knox, and other giants of the Protestant Reformation in Europe. But there are many other lesser known men and women who worked to advance the cause of the Reformation!

Women also played an important role, either in disseminating the ideas of the Reformation, or using their political power to protect the preachers and teachers of these ideas, and, yes, some were burned at the stake.

Here is one of these women

Joyce Lewis (Jocasta Lewis) died in 1557 as an English Protestant martyr, burned alive at the stake for refusing to take part in the Catholic Mass and calling it unbiblical.

She first married Sir George Appleby of Appleby in Leicestershire and they had two sons. Her husband died in 1547 at the Battle of Pinkie. She then married Thomas Lewis of Mancetteron 10 September 1547.

In the beginning of Queen Mary's time Joyce was a Catholic and went to the church and heard mass as others did, but when she heard of the burning of that most godly and learned martyr, Laurence Saunders, who suffered in Coventry, she began to question her faith and take more heed to the matter, and inquired earnestly, of such as she knew feared God, the cause of his death. And when she perceived it was because he refused to receive the mass, she began to be troubled in conscience, and waxed very unquiet.

Her move to being a Protestant was led by the brother of another martyr, Robert Glover, who died the same year. Now John Glover, perceiving both her unquiet mind and also the desire she had to know the truth, did most diligently instruct her in the ways of the Lord, approving unto her, out of God's holy word, that the mass, with all other papistical inventions, was odious in God's sight; and besides this, reproved her, for that she delighted in the vanities of this world so much. By the which godly counsel given by him, it happened that she began to wax weary of the world, thoroughly sorrowful for her sins, being inflamed with the love of God, desirous to serve him according to his word, purposing also to flee from those things the which did displease the Lord her God. And because she had learned the mass to be evil and abominable, she began to hate it. And when at a time she was compelled by the furiousness of her husband to come to the church, at the same time when the holy water was cast, she turned her back towards it, and showed herself to be displeased with their blasphemous holy water, injurious to the blood of Christ. Whereupon she was accused before the bishop for the despising of their sacramentals.  Her previous devotion to Catholicism was replaced by "irreverent behaviour in church" which came to the notice of Ralph Baines, the Bishop of Lichfield.

Immediately a citation was sent for her to appear before the bishop. But she stoutly told the bishop, that by refusing of the holy water, she had neither offended God, nor any part of his laws. At the which words the bishop being grievously offended, yet because she was a gentlewoman, he gave her one month's respite, binding her husband in a hundred pounds, to bring her again unto him at the month's end: and so they were both let go. When they came to their own house, the said Mistress Joyce Lewes gave herself to most diligent prayer, and invocating of the name of God.

When the month was now almost expired, and the time at hand that she should be brought before the said bishop, her husband being advised by the said Master John Glover and others not to carry her to the bishop, but to seek some ways to save her, or, if the worst should come, to be content to forfeit so much money, rather than to cast his own wife into the fire; he answered, he would not lose or forfeit any thing for her sake. And so, like a murderer of his own wife, he carried her to the bloody bishop, where she was examined, and when she was found even more stout than she was before, death was threatened and she was sent to prison. Being thus kept in prison, and oftentimes examined, and ever found stout, at the length she was brought in judgment, and pronounced a heretic worthy to be burned. When the bishop reasoned with her, why she could not come to the mass, and receive the sacraments and sacramentals of the holy church: she answered, "Because I find not these things in God's word, which you so urge and magnify as things most needful for men's salvation. If these things were in the same word of God commanded, I would with all my heart receive, esteem, and believe them."

The bishop answered, "If thou wilt believe no more than is in the Scripture, concerning matters of religion, thou art in a damnable case." At which words she was wonderfully amazed, and being moved by the Spirit of God, told the bishop that his words were ungodly and wicked.

After her condemnation, she continued in prison for a year. All that time she was in prison, her behaviour was such both in words and deeds, that all they that had any spark of godliness or civil honesty, were greatly saddened that she should be put to death.

Now when the time did draw near which God had appointed for her deliverance, she said, "As for death, I do not greatly fear. When I behold the amiable countenance of Christ, my dear Saviour, the uglisome face of death doth not greatly trouble me." In the evening, before the day of her suffering, two of the priests of the close of Lichfield came to the under-sheriff's house where she lay, and sent word to her by the sheriff, that they were there to hear her confession: for they would be sorry if she should die without. She sent them word again, she had made her confession to Christ her Saviour, at whose hands she was sure to have forgiveness of her sins. As concerning the cause for the which she should die, she had no cause to confess that, but rather to give unto God most humble praise, that he did make her worthy to suffer death for his word: and as concerning that absolution that they were able to give unto her, being authorized by the pope, she did defy the same, even from the bottom of her heart. When the priests heard this they said to the sheriff,  "Well, tomorrow her stoutness will be proved and tried: for although perhaps she hath now some friends that whisper encouragement in her ears, tomorrow we will see who dare be so hardy as to come near her." And so they went their ways with anger, that their confession and absolution were refused.

All that night she was wonderfully cheerful and merry, with a certain gravity, insomuch that the majesty of the Spirit of God did manifestly appear in her, who did expel the fear of death out of her heart; spending the time in prayer, reading, and talking with those that came to her, to comfort her with the word of God. About eight o'clock in the morning, Master Sheriff came to her into her chamber, saying these words, "Mistress Lewes, I come to bring you tidings of the queen's pleasure, that you shall live no longer than one hour in this world: therefore prepare yourself." After which she said, "Master Sheriff, your message is welcome to me, and I thank my God, that he has made me worthy." And thus Master Sheriff departed. And within the space of one hour he came again.

Now when she was brought through the town, a great multitude of people being present, she, being led by two of her friends, (which were Master Michael Reniger, and Master Augustine Bernher), she was brought to the place of execution. And after she had prayed several times, in the which prayer she desired God would most instantly abolish the idolatrous mass, and to deliver this realm from papistry. At the end of her prayers, most of the people cried, 'Amen.' Even the sheriff that stood by her, ready to cast her in the fire for refusing the mass, at this, with the rest of the people, said, 'Amen' when she had thus prayed. Then she took a cup of water into her hands, saying, "I drink to all them that unfeignedly love the gospel of Jesus Christ, and wish for the abolishment of papistry." When she had drunk, they that were her friends drank also. After that a great number, especially the women of that town, did drink with her; which afterward were put to open penance in the church by the cruel papists, for drinking with her.

When she was tied to the stake with a chain, she showed such a cheerfulness that it passed man's reason, being so well coloured in her face, and being so patient, that the most part of them that had honest hearts did lament, and even with tears bewail the tyranny of the papists. When the fire was set upon her, she neither struggled nor stirred, but only lifted up her hands towards heaven, being dead very speedily: for the under-sheriff at the request of her friends had provided such stuff, by the which she was suddenly despatched out of this miserable world. Joyce Lewis was burned at the stake at Lichfield on December 18, 1557. Her "crime" that was worthy of death? For refusing to take part in the Catholic Mass and calling it unbiblical.

This among other things may not be forgotten, that the papists had appointed some to rail upon her openly, and to revile her, both as she went to the place of execution, and also when she was at the stake. Among others there was an old priest, which had a pair of writing-tables, to note both the names of the women that drank of her cup, (as before you heard,) and also described her friends by their apparel, for presently he could not learn their names, and afterwards inquired for their names. And so, immediately after, process was sent out for them, both to Coventry and other places. But God, whose providence sleeps not, did defend them from the hands of these cruel tyrants. Unto which God, with the Son and the Holy Ghost, be honour and glory forever. A memorial to Joyce Lewis and Robert Glover was placed in Mancetter Church in 1833.

It is a broad fact that during the four last years of Queen Mary’s reign, no less than 288 people were burned at the stake for their adhesion to the Protestant faith.

In 1555, 71 were burned In 1556, 89 were burned In 1557, 88 were burned In 1558, 40 were burned Five martyrs were burnt in Canterbury only a week before her death.

Of all the stupid and suicidal mistakes that the Romish Church ever made, none was greater than the mistake of burning the Reformers. It cemented the work of the reformation and made Englishman Protestants by the thousands. When plain Englishman saw the church of Rome so cruelly wicked and Protestants so brave, they ceased to doubt on which side was the truth. Joyce Lewis is a good example of this. She began questioning Catholicism when the martyr Laurence Saunders was burned at the stake.

May the memory of our martyred  Reformers never be forgotten until the Lord comes! Source: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joyce_Lewis http://www.exclassics.com/foxe/foxe368.htm

[missmouse94]

🌷IT'S REFORMATION MONTH 🌷

Most Christians have heard the names of John Calvin, Martin Luther, John Knox, and other giants of the Protestant Reformation in Europe. But there are many other lesser known men and women who worked to advance the cause of the Reformation!

Women also played an important role, either in disseminating the ideas of the Reformation, or using their political power to protect the preachers and teachers of these ideas, and, yes, some were burned at the stake.

Here is one of these women:

Joyce Lewis (Jocasta Lewis) died in 1557 as an English Protestant martyr, burned alive at the stake for refusing to take part in the Catholic Mass and calling it unbiblical.

She first married Sir George Appleby of Appleby in Leicestershire and they had two sons. Her husband died in 1547 at the Battle of Pinkie. She then married Thomas Lewis of Mancetteron 10 September 1547.

In the beginning of Queen Mary's time Joyce was a Catholic and went to the church and heard mass as others did, but when she heard of the burning of that most godly and learned martyr, Laurence Saunders, who suffered in Coventry, she began to question her faith and take more heed to the matter, and inquired earnestly, of such as she knew feared God, the cause of his death. And when she perceived it was because he refused to receive the mass, she began to be troubled in conscience, and waxed very unquiet.

Her move to being a Protestant was led by the brother of another martyr, Robert Glover, who died the same year. Now John Glover, perceiving both her unquiet mind and also the desire she had to know the truth, did most diligently instruct her in the ways of the Lord, approving unto her, out of God's holy word, that the mass, with all other papistical inventions, was odious in God's sight; and besides this, reproved her, for that she delighted in the vanities of this world so much. By the which godly counsel given by him, it happened that she began to wax weary of the world, thoroughly sorrowful for her sins, being inflamed with the love of God, desirous to serve him according to his word, purposing also to flee from those things the which did displease the Lord her God. And because she had learned the mass to be evil and abominable, she began to hate it. And when at a time she was compelled by the furiousness of her husband to come to the church, at the same time when the holy water was cast, she turned her back towards it, and showed herself to be displeased with their blasphemous holy water, injurious to the blood of Christ. Whereupon she was accused before the bishop for the despising of their sacramentals. Her previous devotion to Catholicism was replaced by "irreverent behaviour in church" which came to the notice of Ralph Baines, the Bishop of Lichfield.

Immediately a citation was sent for her to appear before the bishop. But she stoutly told the bishop, that by refusing of the holy water, she had neither offended God, nor any part of his laws. At the which words the bishop being grievously offended, yet because she was a gentlewoman, he gave her one month's respite, binding her husband in a hundred pounds, to bring her again unto him at the month's end: and so they were both let go. When they came to their own house, the said Mistress Joyce Lewes gave herself to most diligent prayer, and invocating of the name of God.

When the month was now almost expired, and the time at hand that she should be brought before the said bishop, her husband being advised by the said Master John Glover and others not to carry her to the bishop, but to seek some ways to save her, or, if the worst should come, to be content to forfeit so much money, rather than to cast his own wife into the fire; he answered, he would not lose or forfeit any thing for her sake. And so, like a murderer of his own wife, he carried her to the bloody bishop, where she was examined, and when she was found even more stout than she was before, death was threatened and she was sent to prison. Being thus kept in prison, and oftentimes examined, and ever found stout, at the length she was brought in judgment, and pronounced a heretic worthy to be burned.

When the bishop reasoned with her, why she could not come to the mass, and receive the sacraments and sacramentals of the holy church: she answered, "Because I find not these things in God's word, which you so urge and magnify as things most needful for men's salvation. If these things were in the same word of God commanded, I would with all my heart receive, esteem, and believe them."

The bishop answered, "If thou wilt believe no more than is in the Scripture, concerning matters of religion, thou art in a damnable case." At which words she was wonderfully amazed, and being moved by the Spirit of God, told the bishop that his words were ungodly and wicked.

After her condemnation, she continued in prison for a year. All that time she was in prison, her behaviour was such both in words and deeds, that all they that had any spark of godliness or civil honesty, were greatly saddened that she should be put to death.

Now when the time did draw near which God had appointed for her deliverance, she said, "As for death, I do not greatly fear. When I behold the amiable countenance of Christ, my dear Saviour, the uglisome face of death doth not greatly trouble me."

In the evening, before the day of her suffering, two of the priests of the close of Lichfield came to the under-sheriff's house where she lay, and sent word to her by the sheriff, that they were there to hear her confession: for they would be sorry if she should die without. She sent them word again, she had made her confession to Christ her Saviour, at whose hands she was sure to have forgiveness of her sins. As concerning the cause for the which she should die, she had no cause to confess that, but rather to give unto God most humble praise, that he did make her worthy to suffer death for his word: and as concerning that absolution that they were able to give unto her, being authorized by the pope, she did defy the same, even from the bottom of her heart. When the priests heard this they said to the sheriff, "Well, tomorrow her stoutness will be proved and tried: for although perhaps she hath now some friends that whisper encouragement in her ears, tomorrow we will see who dare be so hardy as to come near her." And so they went their ways with anger, that their confession and absolution were refused.

All that night she was wonderfully cheerful and merry, with a certain gravity, insomuch that the majesty of the Spirit of God did manifestly appear in her, who did expel the fear of death out of her heart; spending the time in prayer, reading, and talking with those that came to her, to comfort her with the word of God.

About eight o'clock in the morning, Master Sheriff came to her into her chamber, saying these words, "Mistress Lewes, I come to bring you tidings of the queen's pleasure, that you shall live no longer than one hour in this world: therefore prepare yourself."

After which she said, "Master Sheriff, your message is welcome to me, and I thank my God, that he has made me worthy." And thus Master Sheriff departed. And within the space of one hour he came again.

Now when she was brought through the town, a great multitude of people being present, she, being led by two of her friends, (which were Master Michael Reniger, and Master Augustine Bernher), she was brought to the place of execution. And after she had prayed several times, in the which prayer she desired God would most instantly abolish the idolatrous mass, and to deliver this realm from papistry. At the end of her prayers, most of the people cried, 'Amen.' Even the sheriff that stood by her, ready to cast her in the fire for refusing the mass, at this, with the rest of the people, said, 'Amen' when she had thus prayed.

Then she took a cup of water into her hands, saying, "I drink to all them that unfeignedly love the gospel of Jesus Christ, and wish for the abolishment of papistry." When she had drunk, they that were her friends drank also. After that a great number, especially the women of that town, did drink with her; which afterward were put to open penance in the church by the cruel papists, for drinking with her.

When she was tied to the stake with a chain, she showed such a cheerfulness that it passed man's reason, being so well coloured in her face, and being so patient, that the most part of them that had honest hearts did lament, and even with tears bewail the tyranny of the papists. When the fire was set upon her, she neither struggled nor stirred, but only lifted up her hands towards heaven, being dead very speedily: for the under-sheriff at the request of her friends had provided such stuff, by the which she was suddenly despatched out of this miserable world.

Joyce Lewis was burned at the stake at Lichfield on December 18, 1557. Her "crime" that was worthy of death? For refusing to take part in the Catholic Mass and calling it unbiblical.

This among other things may not be forgotten, that the papists had appointed some to rail upon her openly, and to revile her, both as she went to the place of execution, and also when she was at the stake. Among others there was an old priest, which had a pair of writing-tables, to note both the names of the women that drank of her cup, (as before you heard,) and also described her friends by their apparel, for presently he could not learn their names, and afterwards inquired for their names. And so, immediately after, process was sent out for them, both to Coventry and other places. But God, whose providence sleeps not, did defend them from the hands of these cruel tyrants. Unto which God, with the Son and the Holy Ghost, be honour and glory forever.

A memorial to Joyce Lewis and Robert Glover was placed in Mancetter Church in 1833.

It is a broad fact that during the four last years of Queen Mary’s reign, no less than 288 people were burned at the stake for their adhesion to the Protestant faith.

In 1555, 71 were burned

In 1556, 89 were burned

In 1557, 88 were burned

In 1558, 40 were burned

Five martyrs were burnt in Canterbury only a week before her death.

Of all the stupid and suicidal mistakes that the Romish Church ever made, none was greater than the mistake of burning the Reformers. It cemented the work of the reformation and made Englishman Protestants by the thousands. When plain Englishman saw the church of Rome so cruelly wicked and Protestants so brave, they ceased to doubt on which side was the truth. Joyce Lewis is a good example of this. She began questioning Catholicism when the martyr Laurence Saunders was burned at the stake.

May the memory of our martyred Reformers never be forgotten until the Lord comes!

[Source: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joyce_Lewis

http://www.exclassics.com/foxe/foxe368.htm]

[the-phantom-nagisa]

Valentines day short fic! With karma, nagisa, hazama and terasaka! Oh boy!

Have this non-beta read piece that I mostly wrote while in the train this week. Credit to @handy-dandy-headcanons for the gay comment in the middle of this work.

Terasaka isn't a homophobe, he just doesn't like Karma.

I'm so sorry for the shitty formatting I can't work with Tumblr and just wanted to post this.

--------------------

It had been an incredibly stupid idea, Nagisa knew that now. Sure he loved his boyfriend to death and was glad they were spending the entirety of valentine's day together but he also wanted to use the day to help his friend Hazama with her first official date with Terasaka. She was nervous for it, he'd noticed, which is why he suggested the solution in the first place. He should have realised, however, that Karma and Terasaka were not a good combination. A double date was destined to fail miserably.

Dinner. It was just a dinner. He and Hazama agreed neither of their boyfriends would behave properly in a fancy restaurant so some midway compromise between a fast food place and a fancy restaurant was found. A decent place, really. 3 courses, proper seating and a relatively big menu. A big enough menu for Karma to find absolutely nothing he could NOT criticize.

"I'm just saying, i can probably make it better- actually, no. I KNOW i can make it better than this place can." He was pointing at some stew he saw on he menu, basically shoving it in Nagisa's face who just smiled at him in reaction.

Hazama rolled her eyes, wondering how Nagisa loved the cocky idiot so much. She did have to admit her hypocrisy, seeing as her boyfriend was another type of idiot. Not that she minded being the smart one in their relationship.

Terasaka sighed and slumped down even further than anyone at the table thought was possible to do in the restaurant's mildly comfortable booths. "Can you do better in shutting the hell up?" He grumbled.

Karma was about to bring some sarcastic comeback, Nagisa just knew it. Preventing the moment from escalating into something ridiculous he took ahold of Karma's arm and looked him in the eye.

"I'm not that big of an eater, can we share the first course?" He asked his boyfriend. Said boyfriend completely forgot about Terasaka's existence for a moment, completely taken away by Nagisa's gaze. Nagisa was very familiar with Karma's thoughts about him. The red head was a firm believer of freedom of speech when that meant he'd get to call Nagisa pretty. Nagisa really did not need another session of Karma advocating for his beauty, as if he was giving a speech and Nagisa was the subject.

Everyone ordered their food and the date continued. Karma and Terasaka couldn't help but bicker through most of it, however. Karma clearly didn't have a filter and Terasaka had no impulse control to prevent him from immediately arguing with the red head. 

"As a future government worker, I believe it should be legal for me to commit tax fraud" Karma argued as he and Nagisa had the most random discussion on teaching high schoolers how to pay their taxes. 

Terasaka held a tight grip on his fork. It wasn't hard for Nagisa to imagine that that grip could actually kill a human being. He tried to throw thoughts off murder out of his head as he figured the fork would probably be fine. "That ks the stupidest thing I've ever heard, you're not above the law, Akabane." Terasaka said. 

"Is it still tax fraud if you legally don't have to pay?" Nagisa couldn't help but wonder out loud. Hazama shrugged in reaction and Karma smirked a little. Terasaka ignored the thought and remained on edge. 

"Look, Terasaka, don't meddle with what the smart people are handling." Karma held the same cocky look on his face. "Your brain is too incompetent to comprehend what we're doing anyways" 

Rage emitted from Terasaka, Nagisa noted. It was also obvious enough for anyone without Nagisa's skill to notice. He knew Hazama noticed because she carefully took Terasaka's knife and put it beside her plate where her boyfriend couldn't easily grab it. 

"Oh I'm sorry, was that rude? I didn't think your brain could figure out what i was say-OOF" Karma was interrupted by Nagisa elbowing him in the side. "That wasn't necessary." He complained. 

"Yes it was." Nagisa sighed, giving a pleading look at Hazama. 

She got the hint and put her arm around Terasaka. "Hey big boy, perhaps pay more attention to your girlfriend at your date." She told him. 

Luckily Terasaka took a note of her and turned to her, letting out an annoyed sigh. Within minutes he was completely cooled down and he and Hazama were having a lovely conversation about…Occult stuff. Whatever pleases them. Nagisa was more than happy to discuss Karma's favourite movie with him. 

Just when Nagisa thought things were going well again the two started bickering again. Nagisa barely had the energy to figure out what their discussion was this time but it didn't matter. The argument turned more into both guys listing what they disliked about the other and defending their own honour. Nagisa thought what they were doing had quite the opposite effect, he really didn't think highly of either of them at that point. 

He and Hazama were exchanging knowing look with each other. A second double date would not be scheduled. Both only properly returned their attention to the conversation when Terasaka used a new completely done tone in Karma's direction. 

Now, Karma and Nagisa's relationship was relatively new. Most people were surprised to find out the boys had started dating, mostly because neither of them ever discussed their sexuality. Neither Karma or Nagisa really cared what others thought about homosexuality but it was still considered rude to say something about it. 

"Didn't even know you were gay, Akabane" Terasaka said. 

For a few seconds Karma didn't say anything. His expression was empty and didn't say a lot. Then he turned to Hazama. 

"Didn't know you dated ignorant idiots, Hazama" 

For some reason THAT was all that was needed for the date to escalate into hell. Both guys were furious and ignoring their dates trying to calm them down. 

"I will punch you so hard you'll feel the thing you call a brain bounce all throughout your head." Karma stood up fast and incidentally knocked his plate off the table and made the flower vase topple. 

"Not if I break your arm first" Terasaka screamed as he also got up. 

Everyone was looking at their table. Nagisa noted Hazama trying her best to pick up all the food the guys had spilled. All Nagisa could do was try and hide in shame. 

Just when they thought things couldn't get worse, they reached over the table and grabbed each other. Nagisa knew in advance that the date wouldn't go great but he wasn't prepared for his boyfriend getting physical. 

"U-uhm, excuse me" Their table went silent as they noticed the waitress that carefully approached their table. "I'm going to- going to have to ask you to leave, p-please"

It wasn't long before Karma broke the uncomfortable silence. "Look what you've done now!" He complained as he looked at Terasaka. 

The two started bickering again and Hazama dragged her boyfriend along with her. The only reason it went successful is because he respected her enough to deny her force. Nagisa tried doing the same with Karma but he was his usual self. 

"Sir, someone will have to pay…"The waitress said, tapping Nagisa's shoulder. She probably noticed very easily he was the most sensible person to talk to, what with the two fightinf guys and the girl who was threatening to curse both of them at this point. All he could do was sigh and do so, noticing his unusual forceful manner of putting in his pin code. It was almost as if he treated the card machine as his enemy. 'Better to treat the machine like this than your boyfriend' was all he could think.

---

Standing outside of the restaurant no one in their company was happy. The most positive thing of it all was the now calm Terasaka with Hazama's arm around him. 

"Well I think we're just going to spend the rest of the day with us two." Hazama said, mostly talking to Nagisa. "Thanks for trying though" 

Nagisa waved her off with a light smile. The moment she was out of view he swiftly turned around to scowl at his boyfriend. "Really?" He didn't need to say more. 

Judging by the look on his face, Karma did in fact feel a bit of guilt. "We'll probably have more fun when it's just the two of us anyways" He defended himself. 

At first Nagisa didn't react. His face didn't change and he didn't say anything. Sure, he was calming himself down, that was part of the reason. In all honesty, however, he also just wanted to say something that kept the evening going in perhaps a more romantic direction while also making clear to Karma that what he'd done was not okay. Eventually he realised how futile his effort would be. He could help Karma but never in his life could he hope to change him. Not like Nagisa wanted him to change at all. 

He took a hold of Karma's hands, face still unchanged, catching Karma off guard. He took advantage of this and pulled Karma down lightly so his boyfriend was at eye level with him. He wasn't ignorant to the surprised look on Karma's face that perhaps also showed a little fear. 

"You better pay me back for this dinner" 

And with that Nagisa pecked a kiss on Karma's lip before releasing his hold on him. He portrayed a small smile on his face. As bad as the dinner was he knew Hazama would force an apology out of Terasaka the next time they saw each other. Nagisa would make sure he did the same. 

Karma came back to his senses as he mumbled a soft apology. Nagisa figured he could see how he ruined his boyfriends night, which was even worse considering it was their first Valentine's together. 

"I think I can make it up to you." He said as he put his arm around Nagisa's shoulders. "Let's go to my place, we're more of a movie night couple anyways" 

With that Nagisa couldn't disagree. He leaned in on Karma's embrace with a smile. "I think I'd like that"

[ibijau]

Bad Timeline time! Today: Xue Yang joins the Jiang Sect, entirely of his own free will

The young man caught Xue Yang's wrist with surprising strength. He also easily avoided the kick to his shin, and the attempt to bite him, only tightening his grasp on Xue Yang until it even with his pain tolerance, it hurt. How strong was that asshole? And how could he do that and still be smiling?

“I guess Huaisang told the truth for once,” the man noted. “You have potential.”

“Help!” Xue Yang yelped, forcing his voice to go as high as it could so he'd sound younger and more scared. “Help me, he wants to take me away! Someone help please!”

That got all the attention he hoped for, but the man didn't let go, no matter how many people looked their way. Weird. Usually, the well dressed ones worried just enough to give Xue Yang a chance to escape.

“I am not trying to harm that child, he wanted to steal my purse and I stopped him,” the young man noted, lifting said purse in a way that casually drew attention to the sword at his waist, the ornate sort that only cultivators had... and this one was even fancier than most. Xue Yang had guessed that the man was a cultivator of course, but maybe he was of a higher class than he should have messed with. “I'll be taking care of that thief now,” the man continued when passersby stepped back a little. “Thank you all for your concern.”

“Be careful,” someone shouted. “That's Xue Yang! He bit off someone's ear last month.”

The cultivator smiled at the warning, and looked down at Xue Yang. He looked almost amused. Bastard.

Also, it had only been half an ear, so what were people complaining about anyway?

“Well, let's go, Xue Yang,” the man ordered, pulling on his wrist with a strength that allowed no resistance. “I have some things to discuss with you. Do you know who I am?”

“A bastard,” Xue Yang spat, struggling to escape even when it was hopeless.

“Hey now, that's rude. My parents were married before I was born. Hadn't been married long, but that's what counts,” the man added almost to himself, before raising his voice again. “Anyway, that isn't the point. Who I am is Wei Wuxian of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect. You've heard of us, I think?”

Xue Yang stopped struggling so suddenly that he nearly fell forward. He would have, if not for the hand still firmly clasping his wrist.

The colour of the man's robes fit with the Jiang Sect, and the quality of the cloth was fine enough to belong to someone of very high rank indeed, even if it had some tear and wear... but people said the Jiang Sect wasn't exactly doing so well these days, so that fit too, right? And his sword... that fit the descriptions of Suibian that Xue Yang had heard, though of course anyone with money could have commissioned an imitation.

“You're never the head of the Jiang Sect!”

“Indeed I'm not. That would be the honoured Jiang Yanli, who I have the pleasure to be married to.”

Well, that fit too. Everyone knew Wei Wuxian didn't like to be called Sect Leader. So if this was an imitator, at least it was a good one. Much better than that fake Nie man of some weeks before, although perhaps he hadn't lied about knowing Wei Wuxian, eh?

“What would someone like Wei Wuxian be doing in a place like that?” Xue Yang spat, before quickly pulling on his wrist to try and free himself. No such luck, that young man was holding on tight. “Ah, let me guess! You have a friend in the Nie Sect who told you about me, eh? I don't know what you're trying to do, but you shouldn't work with that guy. He looks like he's hiding two dozen secrets at the same time, nobody's going to trust you with a friend like that!”

“Nie Huaisang is not my friend,” the cultivator said, his voice calm but so cold that Xue Yang shivered as the man started pulling him forward once more. “He is not anyone's friend. But we've all noticed that when he bothers sharing an opinion, it's usually worth listening to him, so... here I am.”

Xue Yang blinked. That weird bastard of the other time had been Nie Huaisang? He still wasn't sure how much he believed of this whole business but... Chifeng-Zun's Shadow was known to be small for a cultivator, and not a very impressive man to look at. That matched what Xue Yang had noticed that day.

“I don't work with sects,” Xue Yang warned, mostly on principle. Sects didn't work with him either, mostly because they had their own ways to deal with this but... he had to pretend this was a normal conversation.

“You're going to learn how to,” Wei Wuxian retorted. “I'm recruiting you for the Jiang Sect. Congratulations. We're going there right now. If you have things you'll want to take with you, tell me and I'll send for them after we arrive in Lotus Piers.”

“Aren't I supposed to have an opinion on that?” Xue Yang protested. “Maybe I don't want to be a cultivator!”

Wei Wuxian stopped walking and turned to look at him. He wasn't smiling anymore. If anything, he looked somewhat angry.

“Nie Huaisang said you did,” he replied. “And he suggested that you would be right at home in Lotus Piers. Now, I don't like him, and it's a well known fact that he hates me. He's also a filthy liar who could sell you the moon twice in the same week. But I am pretty good at spotting when he does it, and my sister is even better at it. He told us he'd found a child with great potential, and he meant it. He also said that you were an absolute little shit, and either him or his brother would murder you if exposed to you for more than five minutes, but since Jiang Yanli has never throttled me yet, he thought her sect would be the right one for you.”

That was a lot of information to take in at once. Xue Yang tried not to let it get to his head that maybe not one, but two famed cultivators had decided there was something worthy of attention in him. He still wasn't sure either men had been who they pretended to be, although this one was definitely good at faking it, and had invested money in it too. 

His slimy friend the other day also had money to waste: those candies he'd left behind had been the good stuff, coming from a shop so expensive Xue Yang couldn't even afford to look at it.

Then, there was the fact that this supposed Wei Wuxian was still holding on to him in a manner that made it clear he did not intend to let go. That did limit his options, at least for the time being.

“Guess I'm coming then,” Xue Yang sniffed. “If you're that desperate to have me in your stupid sect, I'll do you a favour.”

“Smart boy,” Wei Wuxian retorted with a smirk that said he also knew Xue Yang did not have a choice, but he was willing to let him save face. “Let's go.”

“No need to pull like that! And are we walking all the damn way to Yunmeng? Can't we fly on your sword? What's the point of you being a cultivator if you don't even fly? Why... hey, listen, don't pretend you can't hear me! Let's fly, Wei-gege!”

---

They did not fly.

Wei Wuxian bought a donkey and made Xue Yang ride it while he held the reins. The donkey was an annoying animal that refused to move when on the third night, as they had to sleep outside, Xue Yang tried to escape on it. Not that it mattered anyway because when he tried to run on foot instead, he found that Wei Wuxian had tied their wrists together with some sort of magical link.

“It's not coming off until we're in Lotus Piers,” Wei Wuxian announced from under his blanket, not even bothering to open his eyes.

Bastard.

Xue Yang considered gutting him in his sleep as a new plan, but... he had checked that Wei Wuxian really was asleep before trying to run, and the man had fooled him. And he knew that he had no chance against an awake cultivator.

He'd have to wait until Lotus Piers to take off, if that even was their real destination.

---

By the time they reached Lotus Piers, Xue Yang had reluctantly accepted that the man who had kidnapped him had to be either the real Wei Wuxian, or the world's best impersonator since he had being recognised by plenty of people during their journey, especially as they had come nearer to Yunmeng. When the cultivators guarding the entrance to Lotus Piers had bowed deeply to him and called him First Disciple and asked how his trip had been, well... they were in Lotus Piers. What more doubts could there be?

Xue Yang was led by Wei Wuxian to a richly decorated office that gave the impression it had seen both better and worse days. In there, a woman sat at a desk. She was not the most beautiful one that Xue Yang had ever seen, but there was something in her face and countenance that drew the eye again and again. Then she raised her head and smiled at Wei Wuxian and... maybe she was among the most beautiful people Xue Yang had met, in the end.

“A-Xian, you're finally back!” She welcomed her husband. “I was almost starting to worry.” Sect Leader Jiang then looked at Xue Yang, and her smile grew warmer still. “You must be Xue Yang. I am so glad you decided to join us.”

“Didn't decide!” Xue Yang quickly protested, before pointing a finger at her husband. “He forced me!”

The woman's smile froze, and she turned her eyes to Wei Wuxian who looked away.

“A-Xian, did you really?”

“He's just the sort to complain,” Wei Wuxian assured his wife. “He wanted to come.”

“You tied me!” Xue Yang protested. “I tried to leave and you didn't let me!”

Sect Leader Jiang's expression hardened, which Xue Yang thought suited her less than the earlier smiles. She looked a little scary like that.

“I thought we had agreed we would only take him in if he was willing,” she said, her husband flinching as if she'd been shouting at him. When she turned to Xue Yang again, her expression softened. “I am sorry. It was not supposed to happen this way. If you truly do not wish to stay with us, I will make arrangements so you are compensated for the inconvenience and can go home.”

The way she said it and the shocked look Wei Wuxian threw her... Xue Yang felt that the offer might be sincere. It wouldn't be a bad deal, he'd have gotten to sight-see a bit and he'd get money, and...

“Of course, if you do choose to say, I would be delighted,” Sect Leader Jiang told him with the most gentle smile Xue Yang had ever seen directed at him. “We have heard you have great potential, and we would be happy to help you unfold it. Our sect... we welcome people of all backgrounds, as long as they are people who will do their best to surpass themselves. We believe in attempting the impossible, how about you?”

Xue Yang hesitated, his eyes hopping between that too kind woman looking at him as if she would sincerely be disappointed should he refuse, and her husband who seemed more guarded but equally expectant. What the hell had that slimy Nie guy said about him to make them want him as a disciple so badly? Honestly, it was a little creepy. He should take the money and go home, because cultivators were a bunch of assholes that only brought problems. His crippled hand was proof of that, wasn't it? It was all pretty promises and backstabbing.

At the same time... Sect Leader Jiang didn't look like a liar. And that Wei Wuxian was a weirdo who couldn't cook for shit and had an awful humour, but he hadn't been unkind during the whole trip, even when Xue Yang had done his best to be annoying... and he was damn good at being annoying.

“I guess... I can give it a try?” Xue Yang conceded after a moment of reflection. “I mean, if it matters this much to you folks, why not.”

Sect Leader Jiang beamed at his words, and Xue Yang felt a little comforted in that choice.

Beside, if it didn't work out, he'd just take off with everything he could carry and make a profit from their weird cultivator shit.

[danetobelieve]

End Of The Mime || Simon and Winston

Getting sent down to the morgue normally wasn’t so bad, they got to see Cece and Dr Kavanagh. But this time when Winston had left the station their mime had been sat in it’s cell. It was in the same place it had been since Roland had someone put them in there. It had not said anything. Yet there was something about the stillness, the malevolence in the silence, it sent a shiver down Winston’s spine even thinking about it. They didn’t know why but they got the feeling that leaving the station was a mistake. But they couldn’t exactly say no and it was getting late, they’d be going home soon. Walking down the corridors of the morgue, they headed towards Cece’s office, spotting the Janitor they paused to greet them. “Hey, Simon right?” they said tucking the stack of files they were carrying somewhat haphazardly under a single arm and sticking out a hand for the customary handshake, “I’m Winston, I don’t think we’ve properly met, I’m an intern at the station.” 

He wasn’t sure why he was there - Simon supposed he felt the residual filth from helping Dr. Kavanagh recently with her escaped beetle problem and he wasn’t one to simply let things sit, especially if he could make an area look better than when he arrived. The work was tedious but that worked in his favour most of the time and he found himself zoning out slightly when he caught a scent and he glanced up just in time to see a young individual approach him with papers and an extended arm for a handshake. “Er... hi, Winston,” He nodded politely, returning their handshake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Now he knew where he recognised the scent - he remembered faint traces of it when he’d walk through the station for one reason or another. Now he knew who it belonged to; that would make it easier for him in the long run, he thought. “What brings you to the morgue this fine… evening? Afternoon?” He glanced down at his wrist as if there was a watch there - there wasn’t. Right. “I lost track of time.” He shook his head. “Anyway, what brings you here?”

Raising an eyebrow gently Winston was pleased to find that they weren’t the only person who was slightly awkward, they weren’t sure that would contribute for the most conducive conversation however, but they were nothing if not persistent. “I think we actually met at Kaden’s birthday party, very briefly though, you were doing shots with the rest of the gang from the station…?” it was a tenuous link and Winston had drunk a lot that evening, their memory might not be what it once was of that evening. “I have some files and samples for Cece and Dr Kavanagh.” They shifted their load of files and samples to both hands and gestured at it with their chin to indicate that they actually had something with them, as if that weren’t obvious given the haphazard state it was in. “I think it’s stuff that came in a bit later today and they wanted them to have them for whenever they were able to work their way through them.” Normally they just let themselves into the offices and dropped them there, but this was a nice change of pace. Simon blinked stupidly for a moment; they met at Kaden’s party? He was sure Winston wasn’t lying but he had met so many people that night and most of them WERE drunk enough that the faces and smells blurred together. He must’ve accidentally prioritized his memories of that awkward night incorrectly. “Ah, sorry,” He apologised with a nervous chuckle. “I totally forgot about… well, most of what happened that night.” He glanced down at the papers as Winston explained their reason for being there. “Well, that’s kind of you,” He replied, his smile going from nervous to gentle. “Could you use my assistance in any way?” He asked. “I can hold a door open or something.”

“Don’t worry, I had a lot to drink too, most of that night is a blur, not that that is a bad thing, I am not the biggest fan of mimes if I’m being truthful.” Winston hated the town’s weird obsession and the fact that there was obviously some supernatural involvement at foot. Raising an eyebrow, Winston smiled gratefully at Simon. “Thanks that would actually be really helpful, trying to open doors with the toes of my converse is harder than it looks.” They wiggled the end of their left foot as if to illustrate. “I’ve got to go to Cece’s office first, most of this stuff is for her but I’ll double check there’s nothing for Dr Kavanagh.” Winston headed off, they knew that Simon must know the way too and there was no point waiting. Indeed, Simon had become very familiar with the layout of the morgue over the past couple weeks, making sure to absorb every detail he could and cleaning locations he didn’t think he would have had to. He followed Winston as the latter led the way to Bishop’s office after setting his mop aside, trying to remember when he specifically met Winston at the party but getting caught up with the ‘mime’ comment. “I’m not, either,” He agreed. “Before I came here, I had a respect for the art itself but the mimes here are just… I don’t know but there’s something off about them.” He tried to explain, though not very well. “Either way, that party was a little awkward. I don’t think Kaden liked it.” He recalled both Kaden’s evident displeasure and Regan’s comments that seemed to support his line of thought.

“Honestly, before now I never really gave mimes much thought. They weren’t really anything I ever particularly had cause to consider until now.” Winston wasn’t pleased with their continued exposure to the mimes either. “But yeah, that party was not my favourite thing that I’ve ever been to and I do not think that I would ever bother going back. It wasn’t exactly something that I enjoyed.” They had never thought that anyone would be able to make mimes behave in that way. Heading down the hallway, Winston turned and nodded towards Cece’s office. “If you wouldn’t mind doing the honours,” they said with a smile, “then hopefully we can get out of here.” The small talk benefited them and it didn’t take long at all for the duo to reach Cece’s office wherein Simon gave a small nod and turned the knob, pulling it open and holding it much like a guard, playfully stiff and straight-backed. “After you, my good person.” He said in a much more exaggeratedly British accent. “I shall remain here until your quest is complete.” He wasn’t even sure why he was being so cordial - maybe he was just in a good mood or he felt more comfortable in the morgue given his past profession. It helped that it was just him and Winston. Maybe the moon had something to do with it. Whatever the reason, he felt as though he should’ve apologised to the other for his goofiness but… naaah. 

Slipping into the office, Winston flashed Simon a bright smile and set a large portion of the files down onto Cece’s desk, quickly sifting through them, they rearranged everything neatly and scribbled a quick note for when she returned to work the next day. “I’ve just got to put these in Doctor Kavanagh’s office and we should be good to go,” Winston slipped away for a moment, placing the few files that the coroner would need for the next’s days work on her desk in a neat pile with a much neater note. They were just about convinced that they were done for the day and were headed out into the hall when they spotted it. Black and white stripes, a dark beret, even the mime’s glasses had stripes and worst of all it looked exactly like Winston. “Oh, fuck.” They practically shouted the phrase, their surprise so great, but the mime didn’t say a word, turning silently and making eye contact with Winston and grinning the widest smile it possibly could. Simon was patient though his gaze followed his temporary companion as the latter set the papers down on their respective desks. This was a nice, easy-- Then he heard Winston curse and he peered out from around the door he was holding open and before him was… Winston. But it wasn’t. It LOOKED like Winston but… mime-fied. How did it get in? How had he not heard it? And why was it smiling? “Uhhhh Winston?” He asked, confusion evident in his soft tone. “Whhho is that?” He released his grip on the door, letting it swing shut as he edged closer to the intern, keeping his eyes on whatever that was on the other side of the hall.

Simon was between Winston and this mime. That meant that if the mime stayed true to form then it was possible that it would probably try and kill Simon before doing the same thing to Winston. “I don’t actually know who or what that thing is, all I can tell you is that it is a murderous mime clone of me and it seems fairly hell bent on trying to kill me.” They looked from the mime to Simon and then back to the mime who seemed to be miming the sharpening of a knife? Weird. Winston hated every second of this. “Either way, they’re not a nice mime, so if you could get away from it just a little quicker this would be great.” Please don’t use magic until Simon was safely with Winston. Please don’t use magic. How quickly the environment could shift from casual to tense as Simon indeed found himself between Winston the friendly intern and Winston the intimidating mime and he wasn’t sure he liked this turn of events. This was bad; intuition told him that if this mime was anything like the ones he had encountered already, it probably had whatever was pumping through Winston’s blood, whether human or something else. “Don’t gotta tell me twice, kid,” the older man quickened his pace as he found himself backing up but it didn’t seem to be quite fast enough as the mime suddenly made a motion that looked like a lunge and swung an arm like pitching a ball and a ball it was - a ball of FIRE that quickly seemed to spiral like a curved baseball before smacking into the wall next to Simon. The latter yelped instinctively and jumped like a cat seeing a cucumber and like the coward he was, scrambled around and subsequently behind Winston. “You guys know magic?” He asked, having this be the first time the possibility was presented to him in his reality.

They used magic. Of course mime Winston had decided that now was the time to show their hand. At least this time Winston was ready for the fireball that they hurled in Winston’s new friends direction. They took a breath as they saw the inferno flicker to life in their mime copies fingers, the bright orange flames licking it’s fingers before it wound it’s arm back and hurled it through the still air of the morgue. Winston accessed the chaos, the energy, the writhing void in their stomach that they felt when they reached for magic. The energy surged through them as they forced a small barrier in front of Winston. The fireball ricocheted off into the wall, leaving a dark scorch mark on the white paint. “Yeah, I don’t exactly go around telling people,” Winston replied as they felt the energy from their exertion drain from their body, but they were ready for that, they’d come prepared. They literally didn’t have the stamina to take themselves but neither did their mime, so they had come prepared. “Listen, I can’t beat this on my own, can you help me?” they stepped forward and used the barrier to bat another ball of fire away. It took a few seconds but Simon always had the ability to act and react quickly and he glanced around for a weapon. His first thought was his handy-dandy mop buuut that was on the other side of the hall so he glanced at his hands, the hands that turned into sharp claws when he was desperately afraid or-- well, now that he thought about it, he hadn’t known them to appear otherwise yet so maybe that was the only emotion that called them. He’d have said he was scared at that moment but somehow, knowing that Winston could perform magic and he was proficient at running away since he knew the entire layout of the morgue, he supposed he wasn’t that scared. It might’ve also had to do with the time of lunar cycle… He shook his head. “Yeah of course, what do you need me to do?” He asked, ready to do whatever was asked of him.

As the mime kept eye contact with Winston and seemed to be preparing another explosion of magic that would go in their direction, Winston scrabbled through their backpack. For months they had been working on this. Pulling out a small metallic disk, it was maybe five inches wide with a slight ridge which had wires tightly wrapped around it. The theory behind it, a careful blend of technology, alchemy and enchanting. This had been their project for months now. They had designed it from scratch, hand engraved the various runes, spent hours enchanting everything and they’d even designed the power source by hand. It was ingenious really, a small gyroscopic system that had self maintaining motion which powered itself. Tossing the disk to Simon, Winston heard it clatter to the floor but they weren’t worried, they’d designed it to take some serious hits. “Press the button please and then maybe stand back.” Winston watched as the mime allowed a wave of magical force to erupt in Winston’s direction but they used their magic to quell it, feeling sweat pour down their face as they exerted their effort here. Tried as Simon might’ve to catch the disc, he fumbled with it last second and winced as it hit the floor. He hastily swiped it up as though he did that on purpose and examined it curiously as Winston described what to do with it; he was thankful for the instruction ‘cuz he ain’t never seen a frisbee like that before. It… wasn’t a frisbee, his wires were just crossing inappropriately again. Probably because he was lowkey worried about this fight and how much of a pain it would be to clean up. “Button, got it.” He announced and carefully but firmly pressed the button with a spidery finger. Speaking of spiders, when he pressed the button, out started to unwind four spider-like mechanical limbs from the disk and he mixed dropping and placing it to the ground, indeed taking a step back as the spider-disc fell to the floor and started to zip forward. “Whoa, what’s that do?” He found himself asking as the little mechanical creature advanced to the mime.

Hearing the whir that denoted the small bot turning on, Winston couldn’t help but feel a thrill that they had actually started and appeared to be working for the most part. It was weird, Winston could almost feel it as it scuttled along the tiled floors of the morgue. It zipped away from Simon. “Thanks dude,” Winston said as the mime seemed to completely miss Winston and pulled back another fire ball hurling it at Winston violently. They barely managed to get a shield up in the way, and when they did the fire crushed through it forcefully, it enveloped Winston and knocked them back gasping for air, they lay there, practically on top of Simon’s feet, hoping and praying that they would have done their job well enough. “Ugh, I really am not good at this magic shit.” They grunted as they tried to get back up, but collapsed under their own exhaustion. Simon instinctively crouched over Winston as the latter fell at his feet as if he could protect them from any further damage. He would’ve made a light, sarcastic comment about how a magician wasn’t very good at magic but he was certainly not one to talk in an ‘I can do magic’ sense OR an ‘I can control my own stuff’ sense so he settled with a “Hey, you did a great job!” Unfortunately for either of them, the mime wasn’t ready to give up despite how tired it was becoming and it seemed to forgo using magic - if it was anything like Winston, it was probably close to its limit on magic, too - and decided to pull out a… knife. Okay, old fashioned but okay and it started to rush the two. Simon noted where the spider was and decided to clash with the mime head-on, only just now feeling his nails elongate slightly as he found himself in actual danger this time. He was scared but more than that - he was fired up, actually feeling like he might’ve been helping someone else this time. The two rammed into each other and though Simon twisted his torso around at the last second to avoid the first stab wound, the mime swung broadly and sliced into his arm. The smell of blood was quick to find Simon and that just seemed to make him feel… stronger. It was hard to explain. Sharp claws reacted by grabbing and sinking into the mime’s arm that held the knife, extending his arm as far out as it would go to create space. His other hand on the mime’s parallel shoulder to keep them from getting too close to each other, he noticed that the mime’s other hand was drawing back for what he presumed was one more magic attack. “Nnn dammit,” He cursed.

Delirious with exhaustion, Winston swallowed back a mouthful of blood that had filled their mouth when they hit the floor of the morgue. They watched as Simon rushed to protect them. They would’ve uttered some complaint, some reason for Simon to stay out of it so that someone else didn’t get hurt trying to help Winston, but they were too slow and they were grappling. Winston saw the knife flash, they saw magic gathering in their own hand, although it was the gloved hand of a mime. Swallowing once more, they used the last of their magic to drive the spider onwards. It scuttled up the wall, pausing in wait for Simon and mime-Winston to come close enough and then as the mime prepared to hurl more magic Simon’s way. The spider detached from the wall, it’s four wire legs proving that it wasn’t really a spider, but the legs enveloped the chest of the mime. It did its job, positioning itself on Mime-Winston’s back, placing the contact pad over where the heart was and emitting a powerful electric pulse. Fortunately it wasn’t touching Simon otherwise Winston would’ve probably killed their new janitor friend. Mime Winston looked shocked, silently raised a hand to their lips before dissolving into a black and white cloud of smoke. Winston watched the bot clatter to the ground, wire legs without any power as it smoked there and Winston did their best not to pass the fuck out. One moment, Simon was in a locked position with the mime, ready to take a fireball to the face and the next, it all but disappeared, dissolved into a cloud of black and white. Simon fell forward and caught himself lightly as the spider clacked onto the floor after shocking the hell out of the mime. The older man let out a heavy exhale but didn’t let himself remain there longer than a few seconds before he turned and scrabbled over to where he’d left Winston. “Hey hey hey,” He said with an even tone, his breathing betraying his otherwise mild temperament. Without really thinking, he placed his hands under Winston’s back and the knees of their legs respectively and picked them up gently. “You alright? Stay with me, I’ll take you to the doctor, okay?” He asked, turning on a heel and stooping just long enough to swipe up the little machine in a fluid motion as he walked with a purpose in his stride. “You did really good,” He said with a smile. “That little spider is incredible. YOU were incredible.”

[minecraftoworymode]

bob the old builders

#OK I KNOW WANDA PAINTED THIS I JUST KNOW SHE DID #WHY DID THEY CUT THIS THUIS SO FUNNY #MCSM #also the steve placeholder.. bro im telling u.. they keep confirming my lore #it keeps Happening #Many Thoughts Head Full. #ok but the fact its Just Fred raises many questions like binta knew about xara and rom but they arent considered on the same level as fred #even though the three of them created the universe together... so is it just like the three divided communities rewriting their own religio #steve here is very likely just a placeholder like hes been in concept art before but like... i have no doubt in my mind soren would be here #i stand by my fucking lore to the grave that the first ever steve avatars were the first builders and soren was a part of them #and thats THAT. on THAT. period.

@b0x​ TO BORROW A PHRASE, YOUR THIRD EYE IS NOT ONLY OPEN BUT SHOOTING DEADLY LASERS (I HOPE ITS OK TO TAG YOU/SHOW YOUR TAGS AHHGHHDFHGDFHGK) I’D LOVE TO HEAR MORE ABOUT YOUR LORE?!?!? N AS AN OFFERING I WOULD LIKE TO EXTEND MY OWN THOTS ON THESE FUNKY LITTLE CUBES

(related to my ideas on classes and worlds)

SO steve n alex do factor in to my mcsm au but they weren’t the first humans (or humans at all for that matter but. thats another post)- those would indeed be the old builders (tho i also like to call them ‘moderators/mods’ bc, ha ha admins and mods... n i kind of like the idea of referring to them collectively as the moderation bc none of them have ANY impulse control except maybe soren and otto once every century or so.)

i think the admins took on (at the very least) three “proteges” among them and we meet most in game. i’ll be naming the groups by the time-honoured convention of ‘shared flawed mindset that bites them in the tushie’.

“WHO NEEDS HEALTHY COPING MECHANISMS WHEN YOU HAVE GODLIKE POWERS? IF I’M HAVING FUN EVERYONE ELSE SHOULD BE TOO!”: mevia, hadrian, cassie rose, with romeo’s favourite probably being hadrian. all obsessed with being extra, getting what they want, and being generally choleric. i mean you couldn’t just sit down and talk things out like a reasonable adult, you had to build a death mansion murder mystery complete with scooby doo style killersona? you couldn’t just keep your games fun and balanced, you HAD to turn it into a minecraft hunger games where no one is there by choice just so you can be amused by the struggles of people you dont see as people? you couldn’t just offer a good enough reward to entice jesse to come to your icy palace of doom willingly, you had to trash their town and then threaten their entire world?? guys, please go to therapy. please.

"I KNOW THIS SITUATION ISN’T RIGHT BUT I NEED WAIT UNTIL I CAN BE SURE I’M MAKING THE BEST AND FAIREST DECISION I- OOPS THERE GOES MY WINDOW OF OPPORTUNITY TO ACT. WELP, TIME TO TRIP AND SPILL ALL MY TICTACS”: otto, soren, (binta?? i have no canon justification for this one but making it make sense is,,, another post ghklfHGLKD). as it seems that the old builders all have (or had until it got stolen/destroyed) an enchanted flint and steel, soren having had one would explain his books being in almost every other world the gang visits (including, notably, fred’s keep in the underneath..). though it doesn’t explain why soren’s ended up in a random loot chest. (at least, canon doesn’t- i have som hcs about why soren wouldn’t want to draw the admin’s attention to himself, n using a flint and steel would definitely do that- so in this case it was probably ivor’s crowbrain going “ooo, shiny artifact! might as well steal that too for when i’m done with this whole command block stuff.”)

“I’M ABOUT TO GO ABSOLUTELY OFF THE SHITS AND YOU CAN’T STOP ME. MAY MY PATRON SAINT MUMBO JUMBO BE WITH ME TODAY, BECAUSE THIS MAY OR MAY NOT GO HORRIBLY WRONG. FOR SCIENCE!!!”: harper, isa, (yeah i dont really know who could be the third one in canon- idt ellegaard was an old builder- so this ones a big ole ???), with harper being xara’s favourite. admittedly i’m not sure about isa, she’s only really here because of the eversource- but considering the only others who mention those are the old builders, well... wrt isa’s lack of old builder powers, i think that xara’s old builders liked to try doing things that had never been done before (or any visionary-aligned individuals, really,, hence the name ghklfdhglkd). for harper that was building pokemon red in minecraft pama, and for isa that was renouncing her old builder powers so as to live amongst her people like one of them (tho this was more of a social experiment).

finally, the purpose of the old builders (DELVING STRAIGHT INTO HC TERRITORY HERE)- in addition to having beings to interact with other than the villagers- were to be sort of microcosms of what romeo is/was to the mcsm universe as operator/op, but for individual worlds (bc the admins aren’t going to be in all of them at once, even if they can inhabit multiple bodies). the role of the operator is to be the creator and catalyst, to keep the universe/server running, to introduce new factors into it so that it can grow and become something better than it was before. (this also means that romeo literally cannot die/be killed, bc the universe is dependent on his existence.)

it’s not that worlds can’t take care of themselves, but in the event of potentially catastrophic threats emerging, it’d be good to have someone with admin powers lite to step in and stop things before things escalated n potentially spread to other worlds- tho only as a very very very last resort, bc otherwise how are u gonna farm champions?

anyhow this post is getting. pretty loNG so, on a last note- my stance on canon lore (esp mcsm lore, or what little of it there is) is that they’re more guidelines than actual rules so i’ll admit some of my au (new game +) does just yeet canon, tho i tried to keep the absolute wildest shit out of this post. again, i’d be SUPER interested in hearing more about your own takes on the lore/plot/literally any aspect of this game?!?!?! my hyperfixation level has been at 418% for the past few months and it hasnt gone down and i am. s o thirsty for content... i hoPE IT WASN’T PRESUMPTUOUS OF ME TO MAKE THIS POST N ALSO THAT UR HAVING A GOOD DAY/NIGHT/PERIOD OF THE 24-HOUR CYCLE WE BASE OUR LIVES UPON AAAAAAA

[mythologyfolklore]

Trusting the enemy - Pt. 02

Baldr – Forgiveness

(A/N: Set the night before Baldr’s death. He has a conversation with Loki, fully aware that he’s talking to his murderer. It doesn’t bother him nearly as much as it should.)

Baldr isn't capable of hatred.

Not of loathing or disgust.

Not even of spite or malice.

He is, however, capable of anger and revulsion.

Even though his anger never lasts long, it's still there. He never shows it; there is no point. Besides, he doesn't want to hurt anyone by lashing out in any way.

Someone has to be the better person and who, if not him?

So he chooses to be the role model, the paragon of virtue, the one who brightens up everyone's day. It's actually quite easy; he is just that kind of person. Being kind to others brings him joy. His friendliness and compassion are genuine. His cheerfulness is not. But why?

Baldr is lucky, oh so lucky.

He has beauty, wisdom and grace. He has the biggest ship and the fairest, holiest hall in Asgard. He has everyone's love and admiration. He has a lovely wife and a wonderful son.

So why, why the Niflheimr is he not happy?!

His smile is brighter than the sun, but it only serves to please others and hide his melancholy.

Everyone thinks him happy, but he isn't and only four people in Asgard know this.

Óðinn knows, because of course he does.

Baldr doesn't talk to his father about his depression, but the Allfather knows anyway. And maybe, just maybe, the light god is grateful, that his father doesn't judge him for it or bring it up.

Höðr knows too.

He knows Baldr better than anyone, even though his eyes cannot see. His shadow is like a blanket of comfort, his coolness is soothing. The god of darkness and winter expects nothing from him.

Heimdallr knows, because nothing escapes him.

Baldr values the Guardian's understanding and sympathetic nature, so similar to his own. What he values even more is that he doesn't participate, when the other gods throw stuff at him.

The last person who knows is definitely the most problematic one: Loki.

Baldr wishes, that the red-haired trickster would like him at least a little bit – after all, they are by oath uncle and nephew. That will never be, though: Loki wants him dead and will indeed be the one to bring on his imminent demise.

Baldr doesn't even know why Loki hates him so much (it's not like the older god has ever told him, what his problem is; he always scoffs and turns away, when Baldr tries to talk to him). He only knows, that he will die at the other's hands. And he knows exactly how, too – his prophetic nightmares are very vivid.

Maybe he should hate Loki for being his future murderer.

But he doesn't.

He is still angry at him, though.

You can't frame Höðr for murder and expect the prospective murder victim not to be angry!

.

Loki hates everything about Baldr.

Everything.

He hates, that the blondie is Óðinn's son.

He hates, that the young god is so pretty, graceful, wise and sweet.

He hates, that everyone loves that goody-two-shoes and fusses about him, when he shows the slightest hint of distress. Frigg has made literally everything in all nine worlds swear, that it wouldn't harm her “precious baby boy”! Well, almost everything – a twig of mistletoe was too young to sign legally binding contracts, she said. But still!

It makes him sick, so sick. Seeing Baldr makes his blood boil. Hearing his voice makes him want to retch and when he has to make body contact for whatever reason, his flesh crawls beneath his skin.

Dwarves don't loathe the sun as much as Loki loathes Baldr.

One of the reasons is, of course, envy.

No surprise there, the trickster knows his own nature. Of course he wouldn't say that out loud, but he's quite sure, that most people already know.

But they don't know, just how envious he is.

Loki is the one, who does all the shit work for the Aesir! Not Baldr! Yet he gets all the praise and love, even though all he does is being a hippie and making decisions that can't be undone! So why does Sunny Boy get all the love and positive attention?! That's so unfair, it's physically painful!

But that's not the only reason for his envy.

Óðinn is nothing, if not a loving father, Loki knows this. The Allfather loves all of his many children equally, although he has the stupidest way of showing it.

But he doesn't love all of Loki's children.

Once upon a time, Loki and Óðinn mixed their blood and vowed brotherhood, swearing to treat the other's children as their own. But apparently that doesn't go for Fenrir, Jörmungandr and Hel. The trickster knows, that the triplets are dangerous, but that's no excuse for their treatment!

There has been a time, when the trickster loved Baldr and Höðr like they were his own. But that was before his own children were banished. The twins know nothing; they were toddlers back then. And if the Æsir refuse to tell them about it, why should he?

It doesn't matter anyhow.

Loki will do anything to send them to Hel. And it will be the greatest satisfaction to see the horror on the Æsir's faces and hurt Óðinn and Frigg in the worst way possible.

.

Baldr is sitting on the roof of his house and judging by the position of the moon, it's almost midnight.

It's wonderfully quiet, when everyone is asleep. It relaxes him, when he is shaken from a nightmare.

Normally, he would go and cry on his brother's shoulder, but he doesn't want to wake him.

So sitting on his roof and watching the moon and stars is the second option.

He feels a presence behind him and smiles lopsidedly: “Why am I not surprised, that you got through the barrier on my house?”

A slightly higher, more feminine voice retorts: “Maybe it's because there is nothing I cannot do? And what about you? Why am I not surprised, that you're doing something as dangerous as sitting on a roof, instead of lying with your wife?”

Baldr laughs softly and finally turns around: “What is this I see? Loki actually seeking my company and talking to me? What a sensation!”

Loki snorts: “And what is this I hear? Irony from the mouth of the paragon of perfection? Never thought I would live to see that moment!”

The blond rolls his eyes: “We both know, that I will never be perfect, no matter how hard I try. But seriously; how did you get in? The force field around my property is supposed to keep out everyone with malicious or improper intent.”

The redhead smirks: “Please, I know what spells Frigg used to put the barrier up. And for every spell in the world, there is a counter spell to match.”

“Huh. Figures.”

It's only now that Baldr notices, that Loki is floating in mid-air – he must be wearing his air-walking shoes.

“Mind if I sit with you?”, the trickster asks.

“You already invaded my property and didn't ask my permission.”

“Good point.”

Baldr moves over and allows Loki to sit next to him.

He can't decide, if he's happy, that his “uncle” is actually initiating a conversation for once, or if he's suspicious as to why.

Loki sees no point in dispelling the other's suspicions.

“What are you doing up here in the middle of the night?”, he questions. “Couldn't deal with your nightmares again?”

“That and I wanted to see the night sky one last time, before I die.”

“So you know.”

“You already knew, that I know.”

The fire giant frowns. “You're oddly casual about it. After all that fuss about your nightmares.”

He receives a frown in return.

“Uncle, there is a difference between knowing that you're going to die no matter what, and suffering from perpetual sleep-deprivation.”

“Yes, I suppose there is.”

They fall back into silence for a while.

Baldr is the first to speak again: “So, what gives me the honour of you finally talking to me, uncle? You have never done that before.”

Loki shrugs: “I'll be honest for once; I don't know.”

Another moment of awkward silence.

Finally, the Bright One notes: “The stars are very beautiful tonight.”

Loki chuckles: “Yes, but that's nothing special to me. If I want to see the stars, I just need to look at my wife. She has the night sky in her hair.”

Sigyn, Baldr's starry-haired half-sister.

Baldr doesn't like how shrewish and abrasive she is, but she is also the most reliable, selfless person he knows.

It's a matter of fact, that Loki is a terrible husband; often absent, treacherous, a liar and definitely a pervert. But no matter how much his wife gives him hell for his nonsense, he can count on her unwavering strength and loyalty, for better or worse. Baldr wishes his own wife was half that loyal (as if he didn't know about her tryst with his brother Hermóðr), then again he has done nothing to earn her loyalty either.

He is about to ask, if the shapeshifter loves Sigyn, but then Loki continues: “In fact, dare I say, that the night sky in all its splendour could never measure up to Sigyn's hair.”

Baldr smiles; that's all the answer he needs. “So you do love her.”

The trickster chuckles.

He will never be able to tell his wife these words, but it's a truth everyone is aware of. When and why his tomboyish wife decided, that he is worth travelling all nine worlds for, is beyond him. But it is so. The ornament around his neck too severely proves it.

Of course Baldr has noticed the necklace Loki is wearing.

“I like your necklace”, he tells the older god. And immediately wishes he didn't: Loki's smile disappears and is replaced by a scowl.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” The fire giant's voice is cold.

“It really is. There is just something about it, that makes it better than Brisingamen.”

That seems to mollify the older god.

“You're damn right. It's the best one in all nine worlds. I wouldn't give it up for anything.”

“May I hold it? Just for a moment?”

Loki's eyes narrow. But then he relents and takes it off. “If I didn't know, that your hands are so careful, I wouldn't agree to this. Consider this the last and only favour I will ever do to you.”

Baldr beams at him and takes it gingerly. To him this is more than just a favour.

The necklace lies comfortably in his glowing hand.

Now that he sees it up close and touches it with his own fingers, he can tell, what makes it so beautiful: it's self-made. Only the gold bordering is dwarf's work. This piece of jewellery has a personality, which Brisingamen lacks. Each component has a story, he can feel it.

“Do you want to know, what it is?”

It's not a question.

“I'm all ears”, Baldr agrees. If Loki wants to tell him the story, who is he to refuse?

So Loki begins to explain: “This necklace was a gift from Sigyn … and from my children.”

“Not Nari and Narfi, I assume?”

“No. Not them.”

Loki sighs heavily and Baldr marvels; he has never heard the older god sigh before.

Then he elaborates: “The carved tooth is from my eldest son Fenrir. The bordered green scale comes from my second son Jörmungandr. And the curl of black and blonde hair belongs to my daughter Hel. The golden chain is from my wife. And she is the one, who made this.”

Oh.

Baldr feels not just a little uncomfortable, as he gives the necklace back to Loki, who immediately puts it back onto his neck, where it belongs.

“I didn't know they're your children”, the Bright One whispers.

“Of course you didn't!”, the trickster spits scornfully. “Your family talks about bravery in battle, but they would never gather up the spine to tell you about all the crap they've pulled!”

Loki can tell, that Baldr wants to ask what he means, but fears to anger him even more.

“Why don't you ask my daughter dear?”, he hisses, “After all, you will join her soon! I'm sure, she will be delighted to tell you, what happened back then!”

“By soon you mean tomorrow, I assume?”

That question is so sudden, that the fire giant forgets his anger.

“Yes and no”, he explains, “Travelling down there takes a while. And you won't be able to without the funeral rites. She told me so, last time I spoke to her. And that she has already prepared everything for your arrival.”

Charming.

“I'm honoured”, Baldr replies and Loki is surprised by how genuine that sentence is.

“I seriously don't understand how you're so calm about it. How are you so cavalier about the fact, that I am going to murder you tomorrow?”

“Today”, Baldr corrects and points at the clock tower near his father's hall Valhalla. It's almost 1am now. “And it's rather bold of you to assume, that I'm not angry.”

“I didn't say that. But do you not hate me? Knowing that I will be the one to send you to my daughter's realm?”

The blond shakes his head. “No. I do not hate you. I'm not even angry, because you want to kill me. It's something else, that ticks me off.”

“Oh? Do enlighten me!”

So he does: “What makes me angry is that you want to pull my twin into this. I'm not afraid to die – not even averse to it. And if you don't want to tell me, why you hate me so much, fine. But tricking Höðr into killing me, knowing that it will break him, that he will have to live with the guilt, until my father spawns another child, specifically to kill him? For that I would hit you.” A wry smile. “But I have never done such a thing before, so I'd probably punch like a little girl.”

Loki cackles: “Oh my! Looks like Asgard's golden boy has something in him after all!”

“Whatever you say, uncle.”

The cackling stops abruptly. “Don't call me that.”

The younger god smiles apologetically.

The red-haired trickster glares at him.

“Norns, how I hate, when you make that face! Actually, I hate everything about you.”

Oh my dad, here it comes, Baldr thinks and readies himself for a torrent of hatred.

Of course he could ask the redhead to just tell him that he hates him and be done with it. But he knows that Loki needs to get this off his chest, so he will listen.

“I despise you, boy”, the fire giant snarls.

“My contempt for you is beyond words. If I could, I would set you on fire, watch you die a slow and agonising death and I would laugh. I hate your pretty face. Hearing your voice makes me want to retch. Everyone adores you, but what exactly have you done to earn it? What gave them the idea, that you're perfect?! You! Don't make me laugh! We both know the truth, don't we? Pathetic, that's what you are! You call yourself a pacifist, but in truth you're just a coward, who pats himself on the back. Why your verdicts are final is a mystery to me – no matter how wise you are, even you can be wrong sometimes – and boy, can that ever be fatal! I have given the Æsir far more than you ever have! I tricked the dwarves into forging the greatest treasures for you! When have I ever got so much as a thanks from them?! And you! You just say a single word and all eyes are on you! When a giant threatens Asgard, it's either Freyja or you they want, because you're oh so fucking pretty! What everyone perceives as perfection is just a facade! You can't even deal with your nightmares – seriously, it's always the same one, shouldn't you be used to it by now? And your family life! My roller coaster of a marriage with Sigyn is more functional than you and Nanna! The only thing that keeps you two together is your son and your fear of scandal! The way you always act so cheerful makes me sick! You're more depressed than your mother is, but at least she has the excuse of knowing the future! And you still pretend, that everything is sunshine and rainbows and it pisses me off! How is it, that I am the liar here, when you are the one who's so fake, it hurts?! I can't wait to kill you! They will bawl their eyes out over your corpse and I will stand there and smile upon your body, that's how satisfying it will be! Ooohhh, how I hate you!!!”

Wow.

Baldr never thought, that it's possible to spew so much hatred and envy at once. Then again, there is nothing Loki isn't capable of.

He needs a while to let that sink in, before he responds.

“… I'm impressed. You certainly took me for a ride here.”

“Did I now”, Loki growls.

“Yes.”

“And? What are you going to say about it?”

“Just this: now that you got it off your chest, will you listen to what I have to say?”

The older god sighs: “I suppose I must – it's only fair.”

Baldr takes a deep breath, then he begins to talk: “I'm sad, that you hate me. You probably already know, just wanted to clear that up. And you are right about two things: my happiness is faked and my marriage is a catastrophe. But let me tell you this – the rest of me is not. If I want to please everyone, it's because their joy delights me. I don't help people, because it's my duty, or because I want praise, I do it, because I enjoy it. I love making others happy. If my own happiness is the price, then so be it. You on the other hand, oh man! Do you ever do something good of your own volition, just for someone else's sake? Something that doesn't involve you causing trouble beforehand? You only got those treasures for us, after you decided that cutting off Sif's hair would be funny. Branding a woman as an adulterer is not funny, Loki.”

“She is, though”, the fire giant mutters. “And guess with whom.”

“Do spare me, I beg you. Besides, it's rather hypocritical of you to lecture me about my marriage. I can't blame Nanna for having an affair, because the Norns know, I'm not remotely close to being the loving husband I should be. By Mimir's head, I can count on one hand, how often I have even slept with her, so of course she would look elsewhere for what I cannot give. But Sigyn can certainly blame you! You must have slept with more people, than you have freckles! You must be – pardon my language – the biggest man-slut in Asgard! Then you're almost never home! No wonder Sigyn is mad at you 24/7! She may be a spitfire, but she's my big sister and she deserves better! Do you have the faintest idea how lucky you are, to be married to the strongest, most loyal woman in all nine worlds?! A woman's loyalty must be earned, but you wouldn't know loyalty, if it slapped you in the face – which I know it does, because she's not some push-over housewife you can treat however you want!”

He takes a deep breath to compose himself.

Loki is gawking at him, which makes him feel incredibly awkward. This has gone too far, really. He didn't mean to talk himself into a rage like that. In his defence though, he just got a hate speech from his uncle/prospective murderer and he really, really needs a nap.

“Do forgive me”, he apologises, “I didn't mean to lash out at you.”

“Are you kidding?!”, the trickster exclaims and bursts into laughter. “You're so much better, when you drop your stupid mask! I didn't think you had it in you!”

Baldr chuckles: “It's easy to drop the masquerade, when you're a dead man. And there is a certain beauty in letting you see it. Do you know why?”

“Because it's easy to be honest to the one, who will kill you. There is no need to keep up a facade in front of your future murderer.”

Baldr smiles and nods. He is glad, that his uncle understands.

“I'm truly sorry, that you hate me”, he tells him softly. “I really wish we could get along.”

The other compresses his scarred lips into a thin line.

“Not a chance, Baldr Óðinnsón. I hate you and you must and will die.”

“I know.”

Loki hates, how world-weary, how okay with dying this young man is.

And he hates even more, that he hates it. Because it makes him aware of something, that terrifies him. It's so terrifying, that his hands begin to tremble in his lap.

He quickly digs his fingers into his trousers to hide it, but the blondie has already noticed and is looking at him with concern.

“Don't you dare pity me!”, he hisses venomously.

“I'm not pitying you”, Baldr tells him gently. “I'm feeling compassionate. Don't confuse pity with compassion.”

“I don't want either!”

“I know, I know. But I can't help it. I told you, I do not hate you like you hate me.”

Loki really wants to wipe that disgusting, sweet smile off the boy's face.

“I'm glad, that it's you, uncle.”

“I told you no- wait, what?!”

Baldr tries not to laugh at the trickster's flabbergasted expression.

“Did I shock you? Sorry, I mean to say … I'm glad that you're the one to send me to Hel, because …  well, you hate me and you won't feel guilty for killing me. I hate when people feel guilty, because of me. Stupid logic, I know. But I wouldn't want it to be anyone else. That's one of the reasons, why it angers me so, that you want to instrumentalise my brother. If it was just you, I could easily forgive you-”

“I don't want your fucking-”

“Let me finish! If it was just you, I could easily forgive you. Because I'm currently so resigned to my fate, that I don't even care anymore. I just want it all to end. In a way, you're doing me a favour.”

“… You're insane.”

Baldr snorts: “No, that would be you. I'm just depressed and world-worn. Also very much sleep-deprived. And it's 2am, so I haven't had my morning coffee either.”

“You're definitely insane”, Loki insists.

“Probably”, the other gives in. “Not that it matters now.”

He still has a few questions though.

“What are you doing up anyway?”

“I have nightmares too, boy. But unlike you, I don't whine to everyone about it.” A huff. “Then again, the only one who cares is Sigyn.”

“I do too.”

“That's because you're a goody-two-shoes. You would care, if a rock had nightmares.”

“Well, you're a bipedal fire, so close enough.”

“Well, you're a bipedal firefly.”

The Bright One chortles. That's certainly a funny way to describe the way he glows!

Then, as he turns his gaze back to the stars, he remembers another thing he always wanted to know.

“Loki?”

“Hm?”

“Where do the stars come from?”

“Ah, I remember that. Your father and his brothers made most of them. They used to be sparks from the flames of Múspellheimr, where I come from. But some of them are my creation.”

He points up to a particularly bright star.

“See that one? I'm the one who made it, it burns through me. It used to be called Lokabrenna, but the humans call it Sirius now.”

Baldr beams at him in delight, because Sirius just so happens to be one of his favourite stars.

Loki's grin turns into a bittersweet smile. “You should have seen your father back then. What a man! I couldn't help but like him immediately. The way we were back then … we had so much in common!”

The younger god can feel the sadness and nostalgia radiating from the older. He doesn't find it hard to believe him; even today, Óðinn sometimes still has a roguish twinkle and laughter in his grey eye, though it becomes rarer and rarer to see. It's no wonder Loki was hooked, when the two were younger.

He sighs: “You know, his smile back then looked just like yours. It was full of warmth and integrity. You and your brother got that from him.”

That sentence takes the god of light by surprise; he always thought, that he got it from his mother.

But he has no time to ponder on it, because Loki shocks him by starting to cry.

“Shit”, the trickster mutters and wipes his eyes on his sleeve. “I promised myself to never shed a tear over this! And in front of you too!”

Baldr fishes a paper tissue out of his pocket and hands it to him. Of course he doesn't get a thank you, but Loki is the last person he'd expect one from anyway.

“Fuck you! Your twin and your father too!”, the redhead rasps randomly.

At this point it sounds rather forced, but Baldr doesn't voice that.

“I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”

Loki freezes, when the younger god embraces him. Once he realises what is going on, he is tempted to push the blond off the roof and test, if gravity has also sworn an oath, but he doesn't. Instead he allows himself to weep – silently; he refuses to be a bawling, snivelling mess. He feels the other's left hand pat his upper back in comfort.

The awareness from earlier returns full force and the trickster hates it with all his might.

Most of the gods aren't aware of it, but he's actually just a little older than Óðinn (a few decades, maybe). He knows the Æsir so well. He can count on one hand how many of the Allfather's children he hasn't known since their childhood.

He was there, when the twins were born, even got to hold them in his arms. Back then he loved them. That time is long gone now and he hates them both, he hates almost all of Óðinn's children at this point.

“I hate you! Go to fucking Helheim!”

“I know and I will”, Baldr responds way too gently. “Also, love you too, uncle.”

“How dare you-”

“Shhhhh.”

It takes a while for Loki to calm down. When he eventually does, he winds himself out of Baldr's hug and clears his throat.

“Alright, this is enough. More of this sap and I'll puke.”

Baldr knows, when it's better to shut up.

They fall back into silence, but it's more comfortable this time.

It's already past 3am, when he speaks up: “One last question.”

Loki groans and rolls his eyes, but consents.

“Will your daughter be kind?”

Or will she take whatever grudge she has out on me? - the trickster can hear the untold part of the question in the boy's voice.

He thinks for a moment.

If he knows his daughter at all, she won't take her grudges on Óðinn out on Baldr. She could and would be in the right, if she did. But she wouldn't. Hel is bigger than that – besides Baldr is the purest being in Asgard (as much as Loki loathes to admit it). And Hel really likes cute, beautiful things (she got that from her mother, he remembers).

Of course he could tell Baldr, that she would make his afterlife Náströnd, but for some reason he chooses to be honest.

“Well, unlike the rest of Asgard, you and your brother don't actually have a skeleton in your closet, so you have nothing to fear. She is a just goddess. You will be in good hands with her. In fact, dare I say that, if you can look past her appearance, you will even like her.”

Baldr feels significantly more at ease hearing these words.

Enough at ease, that he chortles, when Loki adds: “Just don't mention the Christians. Or horses; the only horse she likes is Sleipnir.”

“Noted.”

All of the sudden Baldr yawns – once again overwhelmed by a wave of fatigue, that reminds him of his sleep-deprivation.

“My soul for good sleep!”, he jokes.

Loki smirks at him: “That can be arranged – I'm sure your soul is valuable enough to service as appropriate payment.”

The god of light bursts into laughter.

Once he settles down, he smiles at the redhead. “I haven't laughed this much in years. Thank you, uncle.”

Loki doesn't chide him this time.

Instead, and much to his surprise, he rolls his eyes and huffs: “Sleep, boy. I'll see to it, that your last nap in Heaven will be peaceful.”

It takes Baldr a second to realise, that the fire giant is inviting him to rest his head on his shoulder.

He wants to say no and tell the older to go to sleep of his own, instead of spending the rest of the night on this roof with him. But he is just so incredibly tired, that he allows himself to be selfish for once in his life.

The trickster's scorching temperature seeps through the fire-proof clothing and somehow it makes the Bright One feel like he's wrapped in a warm blanket. He's asleep within seconds.

Loki notices how the younger man's body relaxes and slumps against his right side. And of course he has also noticed, how the other's glow intensified, when he laughed genuinely.

He sighs, wraps an arm around the other's shoulder and glares down at the shock of platinum blond hair.

I hate you and your children, Óðinn. But what I hate even more, is that I love them as well.

.

---

.

“Forgive your enemies, but never forget their names.”

[r6shippingdelivery]

I saw the "what scares you the most" reblog and I am wondering if you could extend the hc thing and let us know the deepest fears of all the ops :)

Oh boi, you don’t ask easy stuff, do you? Okay, I’ll give it my best shot! And a big thank you and hug to @todragonsart who’s been a huge inspiration and help, and my willing co-conspirator 💜

FBI

Ash: Failure, not being good enough at what she does. Combined with her impulsiveness and competitve nature, it can be a volatile mix. She also fears being treated differently than her colleagues just because she’s a woman.

Thermite: He’s afraid of his explosives. He knows how unstable they can be, and how easily they could cost someone’s life (his own or even worse, someone else’s). He nearly lost all sensibility in his hands the last time a charge went awry, he doesn’t want to contemplate what could happen if he messed up again. Still, he won’t let his fear change his life, or make him lose confidence in himself.

Pulse: Spiders. All those spindly legs and how they scuttle around, weaving that disgusting stuff… he can’t stand spiders, they make his skin crawl.

Castle: The hopelessness of life, how the bad always seems to outshine the good and the fear that his effort and choices won’t really make a difference.

SAS

Thatcher: The pass of time. All his life he’s been a soldier, he doesn’t know what he’ll be once he can’t serve anymore.

Sledge: Not measuring up to what people expect of him. He knows he’s expected to be Thatcher successor when the old man retires, and those are some really big shoes to fill in. He’s also afraid of not being able to protect his squad, his friends. Especially the younger two, who can be reckless and irresponsible at times or most of the time in Smoke’s case

Smoke: Being ignored and alone, that’s the reason he was/is a troublemaker, to catch people’s attention.

Mute: Memory loss. Aside of all the wealth of knowledge he has suddenly disappearing, are you still yourself without your memories?

GIGN

Montagne: Illness, like the one that runs in his family. He can fight terrorists, but he’s not so sure he could fight (and win) against cancer.

Twitch: She’s strongly empathetic, and she fears that could be her downfall, that  it could make her unable to act decisively in the middle of the action, that her emotions would paralyze her.

Doc: His choices costing innocent lives, even if it was by inaction (rather than direct action) on his part,

Rook: He fears his trust exercises makes him look gullible, aside from worrying that his skillset is insufficient compared to the other prodigies in Rainbow, that he’s too simple to be part of such an elite group.

Spetsnaz

Tachanka: He built himself an image of powerful, unflappable and unstoppable force, yet deep down he’s only human. He’s terrified people will see through his act and stop respecting him without that metaphorical mask.

Kapkan: The unstoppable marching of time that is slowly guiding us to inevitable death (according to that post you mention xD). In fact I think he’s terrified of his own feelings, of becoming too attached and emotionally dependant on other people. He craves it as much as he fears it.

Glaz: Going blind. He’s a soldier, a sniper, and an artist. Without his eyesight, he would be nothing.

Fuze: Despite his reputation, he’s terrified of accidentally killing someone with his gadget, be it a civilian or worse, one of his team mates.

GSG9

Jäger: He has PTSD from Outbreak, which for a time rendered him unable to pilot even. It also left him with an irrational panic to darkness, he sometimes thinks he can still hear those things scuttling closer and closer to him, while he’s alone in the dark, not knowing if anyone will come for him.

Bandit: He’s already experienced it, and would rather never have to lose someone close to him, knowing it was his fault. That’s why he tends to keep people at arm’s lenght. Note: I don’t think Cedrick is dead, but Bandit is too chicken to face him after the incident, considering their relationship irreparably damaged, aka lost.

Blitz: After being a soldier in the Kosovo war and witnessing its horrors, plus all that he’s seen working in a counter-terrorism unit, he’s afraid of discovering how far human depravity can go. Every time he’s deployed, he fears what new horrors he’ll see this time. However, that’s also the reason he wanted this job, to stop those things from happening.

IQ: She’s a perfectionist, and her obsessive nature and refusal to gice up are a result of her deep seated fear of failure. She defines her worth by her success, and if she doesn’t succeed, then what is she worth?

JTF2

Buck: He’s a direct and practical man, he fears being stuck in a position where he has to act diplomatically or deal with politicians, or even being a public face where his actions and words would be examined by many people.

Frost: She’s not good at reacting in front of surprise or unpredictable situations, plans meticulously because she fears getting caught off guard and not knowing what to do.

SEAL

Valkyrie: She fears physical injury. She already had to give up her dream of being an Olympic swimmer after the car accident that broke her arm, now the stakes of injury are much higher, and she could lose her job and new life. She also fears being treated differently or patronized just for being a woman on an almost purely male environment.

Blackbeard: He’s afraid of losing faith in his nation. If his country was wrong, he would start to question if what he’s done for the country was the right thing or not, and that terrifies him.

BOPE

Capitao: He fears helplessness, being again in a situation where he can’t do anything but wait for someone to help him, just as it happened when h was taken hostage all those years ago.

Caveira: Not being able to protect her family is her worst fear, and knowing how prone her brothers are to get in trouble, it’s not an unreasonable fear. She would do anything for them.

SAT

Hibana: She’s scared of losing her cultural identity. Tradition is important to her and her family, and yet she works away from home in a multicultural team, so she fears losing touch with her roots, forgetting who she is.

Echo: He’s terrified of Ying. Have you ever seen her angry? He has, and after all you can’t spell terrifying without ying.

GEO

Jackal: Failing his brother’s memory. If he can’t solve Faisal’s murder, what’s the use of his life? He can’t have his brother back, hell sometimes he can barely remember his face anymore, but he can bring him justice.

Mira: Fear of abandonment. After he mother left when she was a child, she always has that little voice in the back of her head whispering that everyone else will leave her too, just like mom did.

SDU

Ying: She has PTSD from being in a car crash. Took up driving, and quite recklessly, to feel that she was in control of the situation, not her fears. Yet every time she hears a loud crash noise or feels the car not responding as it should, she starts to feel the panic building up.

Lesion: Drowning. He’s a good swimmer, but during the incident in the oil tank, when he igested the oily water and started coughing, that was the first time he ever thought he would die, with his lungs filled with toxic waters, and it stuck with him.

GROM

Zofia: Following her father’s footsteps and alienating her family because of her job and the expectations she puts on others.

Ela: Due to how her childhood was, she’s always had that feeling in the back of her mind that she won’t ever be enough for the people close to her, not as good as others, not as worthy of love. She also fears she’ll live all her life under Zofia’s shadow, unable to be anything else but the Bosak little sister.

707SMB

Vigil: He’s afraid of loss, vulenaribility, emotions… In fact, it would be easier to list what he isn’t afraid of. Just check his bio and you’ll see.

Dokkaebi:  She fears to not be taken seriously due to his young age and image. That’s the reason she so viciously shows off her skills and exploits people’s weaknesses. She is ruthless out of fear.

CBRN

Lion: Himself, what he most fears is becoming again who he was before finding faith. He knows his pride and anger aren’t good either, but at least they keep him in check from spiralling down again.

Finka: Her illness, she’s terrified of the day she won’t be able to move, feels like it’s a countdown to the moment her life will be forever put on hold and she will only be a victim, someone to be pitied.

GIS

Maestro: He fears losing the ability to chose what he wants, of his family or Rainbow taking him for granted and wanting him to stay forever, and how could he say no to his loved ones even if he wanted something else? The guilt of leaving them would kill him.

Alibi: Stemming from witnessing her father being extorted by the mafia, she fears being taken advantage of, or witnessing again how someone close to her being in that position. She’s also afraid that in such situation her anger would override her common sense.

GSUTR

Clash: She’s afraid of her own volatile emotions, of acting rashly again like she did when she was part of the riots.

Maverick: Water, it triggers his PTSD, bringing back memories from when he was imprisoned and waterboarded during that time he was MIA. He avoids bodies of water as much as he can.

GIGR

Kaid: He’s a man who values honour highly, and fears that his moral integrity could be questioned, that someone would think him capable of taking bribes like the Commander that besmirched the reputation of the Fortress before he took over.

Nomad: Growing up in a privileged family came with certain expectations for her future, however, she preferred to enlist and travel constantly alone rather than remain home. She fears having to live a sheltered life again, having to marry and not being able to keep proving to everyone and herself that she’s capable of.

SASR

Mozzie: He’s afraid of being forgotten, and that’s the reason for his showman personality and his tendency to take risks.

Gridlock: She fears taking on more responsabilites than the ones she already has (eldest of 5 siblings, indebted family, taking care of the farm’s finances, and protective of her teammates), that’s why she keeps turning down promotions.

BONUS

Warden: He painstakingly built himself an aura of mystery and danger and proficiency, his biggest fear is people being able to see through all of that. He can’t bear the idea of someone degrading his merits.

Nokk: [REDACTED]