#that's what sealed the deal. ally for life. no escape

[redjayson]

oh boy, now that chapter 17 is posted I can talk about some of the extras that I want to write in full at some point! since that’s rather far off in the future (and probably a lot of work when second-hand alibis still has its own Incredible Amount of Work left), have some quick and dirty snippets/ideas of what they might look like.

first one is a "su xiyan lives" spin-off:

exactly what it says on the tin. shen yuan makes a deal with the system (which would have to be somewhat less strict in this scenario) or he gets his hands on a macguffin or something and manages to make it to the luo river in time to help su xiyan through luo binghe’s birth and save her life afterwards

that, then, leaves them both desperately injured with a (somewhat unhappy) baby in the middle of winter when huan hua is undoubtably searching for them and their only allies probably think shen yuan and su xiyan betrayed them

shen yuan has the bright idea to lead them down the river to the washerwoman who was luo binghe’s adopted mother in proud immortal demon way. she’s kind enough to take them in, softened immensely by the baby and by how injured and grief-stricken shen yuan and su xiyan are

shen yuan and su xiyan slap up every (subtle) barrier and disguise and warding talisman that they can possibly think of to help hide them from any huan hua searchers, before collapsing from the expenditure of energy. shen yuan possibly uses his altered-but-no-longer-untested body-stasis talisman on su xiyan, who is predictably Not Amused by the recklessness of shen yuan having used this on himself, but it gives them more time to handle the poison while also allowing su xiyan’s qi to replenish itself and hold off the effects of the poison trying to kill her while they find an actual cure for it (assuming shen yuan's macguffin/system deal wasn't enough)

they both heal. they help around the house as much as possible, and gift the washerwoman with as much money as she’ll take from them, which is far less than she deserves for all the kindness she’s showing them. eventually, they’re healed enough to begin moving again, and they judge that it’s likely too dangerous to stay this close to huan hua any longer. 

before they go, though, there’s the matter of tianlang-jun. they debate for days—is it too dangerous to try and check on him? do they think zhuzhi-lang was sealed as well? what happens if they’re captured by huan hua? what will happen to binghe? (yes, luo binghe ended up with the same name as canon. shen yuan only suggested the “binghe” portion of the name, but su xiyan came up with and ran with the “luo” portion of it, because it’s far too conspicuous for a child to be running around with her surname, isn’t it? shen yuan, twin brother of shen qingqiu, keeps his mouth shut.)

in the end, they decide that they’ll take their chances now, while there’s still enough chaos and confusion from the end of the battle + setting up how the guard on tianlang-jun is going to look long-term for them to get close. better yet, if they can find zhuzhi-lang, then they won’t even have to get all the way to bailu mountain. 

whatever happens, it ends up being a bit of a mess. zhuzhi-lang is not happy, but shen yuan has spent years being one of his favorite people, and both he and su xiyan are still moving pretty gingerly when they manage to find him. in the end, zhuzhi-lang believes what they tell him about the betrayals committed against them, too, and agrees to carry the news to tianlang-jun (and plead their case, should he prove unwilling to listen).

after that…su xiyan and shen yuan beat feet out of huan hua territory, taking binghe (and possibly the washerwoman!) with them to live a life as rogue cultivators. cue years of sneaking back into bailu forest to visit zhuzhi-lang and tianlang-jun and try to figure out the best way to help tianlang-jun escape. shen yuan helps zhuzhi-lang get ahold of some sun and moon dew mushrooms, but warns that unless they experiment wildly and are also exceedingly lucky, the mushroom body will fail pretty quickly with a demon inhabitant instead of a human one. 

I imagine that this au would either end up as a su xiyan/tianlang-jun/shen yuan throuple, or zhuzhi-lang might finally shoot his shot with shen yuan and actually get somewhere with it. I lean toward su xiyan/tianlang-jun/shen yuan, just because there’s only so many times you can pretend to be married with a child, spending literal years working toward a common goal and in close proximity and with shared fondness, before you fall into an actual relationship. tianlang-jun is on board with this when it’s explained to him—shen yuan is great! (the wife-beam strikes again, it just took a little bit longer with tianlang-jun because he was so focussed on su xiyan)

also it’s deeply funny to imagine shen yuan reuniting with shen jiu (+ yue qingyuan) and cang qiong mountain sect and boldly gesturing toward binghe and declaring, “this is my son.” yeah, this carbon copy of su xiyan, with eyes that are notably not hers or shen yuan’s? suuure. the other peak lords aren’t going to argue, though, because shen qingqiu looks way too willing to fight them (read: yell at them) about it, and that’s almost never worth it. plus, like, what do they care? 

shen qingqiu, notably, doesn’t believe that luo binghe is shen yuan’s biological son, but apparently he is shen yuan’s adopted son (son by marriage?), so it’s really all the same thing. he’s doing some math about the tianlang-jun situation (as is yue qingyuan) and not liking the answers that he’s come up with, but if shen yuan wants to keep the child, then let him. better to allow a half-demon on his mountain than to lose his brother again. 

shang qinghua is losing his shit in the background. you did what with my protagonist’s parents?! my cabbages plot!!!

[ask-sibverse]

A Fatal Mistake Star

So uh. This one has been in my inbox since like, December? And I knew what I was going to write for this too, idfk why I didn't until now.

Star had mixed feelings about his deal with Observer. On one hand, it allowed him to travel to other multiverses in hopes of finding someone who could help him save Nova. He had the chance to help versions of himself and his twin who were fighting bitterly, who hadn't had the sort of guidance he and Nova had been lucky to receive.

But then there were times he visited the "wrong" multiverse. There were ones where Nightmare was so powerful and out of control it was a miracle he hadn't already killed his twin, ones where Star was in a desperate fight for his life as well.

The ones he truly regretted visiting though, were the ones where the Dream of the multiverse took advantage of the deal he was forced to offer them in the worst way.

"Are you sure you want to do this? I can still-"

"That creature is not my brother anymore, just a demon wearing his body. I was stupid and naive to think that he was still in there, that he could be saved. You gave me a choice, you shouldn't be surprised if I pick something you don't like."

Star looked away at that. "And you're sure you understand what is required of you on your end of the deal?"

"I understand perfectly. Let's get this over with."

The final battle against the Nightmare of that multiverse was long and difficult, even with their allies supporting them. Nightmare had allies of his own, although they were hollow shells of the monsters they once were. More puppet than a living thing at that point. Their Ink considered it a mercy killing, really.

Finally it was over. Nightmare was trapped under a seal, powerless and helpless to hurt anyone as he thrashed and screeched, screaming obscenities at his "twin" as he fought desperately to escape.

Star approached the seal, giving the Dream a look. One last chance to change his mind. Dream urged him on, undaunted.

Star stood in front of the Nightmare, summoning his bow. It was hard not to see Nova in his place, his sweet little brother. "In the name of your Dream, I end your life."

The positivity arrow pierced the negative apple that housed the Nightmare's SOUL. He writhed in agony, gasping and screaming and cursing everyone and everything. His corruption seemed to be melting, dissolving into nothingness. Both Dreams caught a glimpse of the skeleton underneath, the battered and damaged skeleton that had once been Nightmare, before finally turning to dust.

[grimaussiewitch]

100 warlock patron pack ideas: part 7

61: You were sentence to death. In your many months of waiting out for your final day, rotting away in a damp cell, a voice called out. A fiend? Litch? Fey? Who knows what. As long as you kill for them, they will let you escape. All of those guards never stood a chance. Neither did your soul.

62: This is your third time your patron has sent you back in time. You’re back with your original level 1 party until you perfectly convert most of your party members to your patrons cause. How did you end up in this situation? You were seeking out for a strong magical mentor and accidentally called upon chuthulu-esq creatures. They can not keep breaking time and space for you or else they’ll break the cosmic world. As punishment for your failure, you are aware that you are back in time but have no clue what the previous timelines were like.

63: You are a bodyguard for hire. You will protect someone for coins. One night, a powerful fiend lord comes into your residence. His child is about to go adventuring and he does not trust them enough to life past day one. A spoil rich brat one might say. Your task is to keep them alive until they retire or the fiend lord feels satisfied in your work. Bonus points if the child doesn’t know of their demon heritage. Bonus bonus they don’t know you were hired to protect them.

64: Please do not make deals with weird slime that hangs out in a dirt hole. Yes they offered you knowledge from what they have seen over the last how many years. But please don’t trust their “dap me up” or their funny little quirks. It may be goopy but it has seen god and you’ll probably see god too.

65: You and your party were fighting a devil. Both you and your enemy go down in critical condition. You drift off into a dream full of flames and a fiend is there. You both know you’re dying, they tell you the only way for either of you to live is for them to be sealed inside you. You’re desperate to live, so you accept. You wake up in a bed surrounded by your team. They are so glad you’re alive. You are not.

66: Your patron has tricked you into believing that you are a special type of cleric or paladin. You are none the wiser. You met them in your dreams and made a deal with them to protect people.

67: You are the chosen one and to fulfil that duty, you had to be sacrificed. In the end you got some cool warlock powers but you’re not free. Your patron demands for you to hunt anyone that will hurt the religion. Little do you know, you’re not the only “chosen one”.

68: You were once a toy that was magically created to be sentient. You resided in an orphanage. Over the years being played with many different children, you wished you could move. You truely wanted to be a real person and look after these kids. When the lights went out for bedtime, a glowing orb appeared in front of you. That is your patron. There was a giant flash of light, then nothing. You felt strange and groggy. Slowly, you realised you could blink, breathe and move your limbs. A real person. In the morning, you greeted the owner of the home and asked for a job. Much to your surprise you got the job! However, it didn’t last forever. Over the next few years, the orphanage wasn’t receiving as much funding or care. Slowly but surely, the orphanage closed down. What do you do now? Welp, that glowing orb came again, explained that it made you real and now you’re it’s puppet. You can freely do whatever you want, but if there’s something that’s needed, you have to listen to your patron. If you fail after one too many times, you can always return back to your original state. A toy.

69: You are literally the worst bard ever. Big cringe fail energy. You’re too lazy to actually improve on your music so just make a bargain with a fiend instead. Who cares, you can make sweet tunes now. Screw having a soul.

70: Mystical angels put you into a death game. You made allies and enemies in that bloody game. But only one could win. After a brutal battle, you were victorious. Crowned the winner of the death game. As your prize, you get to live and have a “guardian angel” as your patron. You did not sign up for that game or this pack. You were forced into it. Now you live with scars and a patron that always watches.

[ladyrijus]

So I'm going absolutely insane over Ocarina of Time Zelda and Twilight Princess Zelda again. This is fine.

Imagine you're Princess Zelda, a child who had to bear the consequences of a civil war your father failed to truly end, all because no one ever took your warnings seriously. Imagine, despite being blessed by the Golden Goddesses, you fucked over your kingdom so bad in the past seven years, that the only way you think to repent for what you have done is to send your hero back in time to warn everyone about Ganondorf and save what used to be, all while giving your hero his childhood back.

Surely that would work... right?

As your hero disappears before your eyes, you commend yourself silently for your wisdom, never realizing that your plan was just as, if not more, naive than gathering all the spiritual stones only for Ganondorf to ultimately seize them.

But it doesn't matter how far into hell you've damned both your present and past world. You're so blinded by your grief and regret, that what you have within you now is an all-consuming desire for revenge. Sealing Ganondorf in the Sacred Realm wasn't enough to satiate your sorrow; what you want is for him to keep losing. You tell yourself as you ascend the throne that you did it for your people, but in reality, you had done it for yourself. It was the only way to deal with the pain.

So your hero warns everyone of Ganondorf's evil intentions and gracefully makes his exit, his duty finished. Somehow, it just makes things worse. Ganondorf still gets his piece of the Triforce, and though he is banished to a realm where all of your worst dissenters go, he's still alive. Your past self can't stomach the fact that one of the Seven Sages of the Sacred Realm is dead thanks to you, and she fears that, with the Triforce of Power, the Gerudo King will come back. It's only a matter of time.

It's only safe to say, then, that your past self must have either dedicated herself to the eradication of the Gerudo tribe or let it happen, because there's no one left now but the vengeful dead in the desert with the tribe's namesake. Was it to capture Twinrova, his allies in witchcraft? Was it to ensure that no one of the tribe would be able to help Ganondorf escape?

Was it worth it?

The worst part is that your past self never thought to ask the sages why the Royal Family had jurisdiction over the Mirror of Twilight, never thought to consider that maybe it is a bad idea to put those who think ill of the Royal Family of Hyrule in one realm together.

Imagine you're Princess Zelda, and you're locked in your castle while you watch your kingdom crumble in the twilight. You realize, as you surrender to the King of Twilight, that you've been dealt an unlucky hand. A bloody history is your birthright, and all you can think in your crushing guilt is to stand down, stand down, stand down, because your ancestors have done enough trying to take matters into their own hands, trying to control others.

"Some princess she is," your people must think, but they will never understand that the blood of the Gerudo, the Twili, and even the Bulblin tribe is on your hands. And so you keep your head bowed down, even if it is unbecoming of you.

When the time comes, you give your life to the Twilight Princess, because it is not fair for her to suffer from the actions of your ancestors. You ignore her screams of rejection and let your health become hers. It's fair, it's right. And you tell yourself everyday that you did it for your people and hers, but in reality, you had done it for yourself. It was the only way to deal with pain.

Ganondorf does die in the end, but it is not a happy occasion. You feel neither relief nor peace at the sight of the Master Sword struck through his chest. You bring a hand to your own breast reflexively, and bow your head down out of deference for the once respected king.

It is the least he deserves.

You also murmur a prayer for salvation on his behalf, even if the Light Spirits won't heed it. Because you understand that long before he succumbed to the corruption of the Triforce, he once thought about his people, just as you and Midna thought about yours.

Oh, Midna.

You knew what had to happen, but knowing didn't make the parting any less harder to bear. You only wish you could have said sorry to her once more before she broke the Mirror of Twilight, sorry for the horrible things your ancestors had put her people through, sorry for the way this had to end, sorry that you couldn't do anything more for her, sorry, sorry, sorry-

You turn to face your hero, and find him retreating tearfully with his back turned to you, his duty finished.

"I'm sorry," you want to tell him, "I'm sorry."

Only the Goddesses know how much it kills you inside to feel this helpless. If only you had some way to turn back time... if there was a chance out there to save the past, you would have taken it.

[hidingoutbackstage]

Just thinking about how Claire experienced unimaginable horrors constantly and regularly witnesses the deaths of people she bonded with, but she never gets the time to mourn them, usually because she has to fight for her life and the life of someone else she’s protecting, and how that feeds into her survivor's guilt. Additionally, even when seriously injured, she doesn't even have the time to stop and assess her own wounds before fighting or taking care of somebody else

In Resident Evil 2, at only NINETEEN years old, a college student with no military or cop training or experience goes to a city she knows to look for her brother who’s been MIA for a bit and accidentally gets trapped in a nightmare. She’s forced to find a way out alive, while also protecting and eventually saving a little girl who is completely reliant on her.

And two people’s deaths on that mission, Marvin and Annette, have an impact on her. Marvin is nothing but supportive of her, and he’s doomed from the moment he meets and saves her. She’s unable to do anything to help him, and the entire time it’s like waiting for a clock to count down until Marvin’s dead. When she moves on, she has to leave him behind, and if you go back, he’s a zombie, his fate is sealed. Claire can’t deal with her ally being dead because if she hesitates or feels emotional, she’ll die, so she just has to move on or kill zombie Marvin.

Annette is obviously a worse person than Marvin by a fucking mile, but her death still impacts Claire because despite her reluctance, she still DID help save Sherry, she told her daughter that she loves her even if she’s been a bad mother, and she gets a good-bye with Sherry. Claire, who lost both of her parents in an unknown way, HAD to have felt something at watching a mother say good bye to her daughter before dying in front of her. And Claire doesn’t have time to deal with her feelings because she still needs to get herself and Sherry out of there.

Code Veronica is the most obvious example of Claire losing an ally, but I’m gonna mention Rodrigo first. She doesn’t watch him die, Chris does, but after he helps her escape prison and they have a nice allyship when she gets him what he needs, afterwards she has to leave and has to leave him behind to certain death.

The other person she watches die in front of her is probably the most well known. Steve. Love him or hate him, he meant a lot to Claire. His last words before dying to his injuries were that he loved her and he’s sorry he couldn’t do more. Claire gets a moment to mourn him, but not long enough, as she and Chris are still stuck in the base that they need to escape. And in the moment she’s in intense mourning, she’s given NO comfort, because her brother can’t get into the room with her and offer her even a hug. And we KNOW Claire kept Steve’s memory with her decades later, because in Revelations 2, she references something Steve told her all those years ago.

Infinite Darkness doesn’t have her lose an ally, but you know what’s traumatic? Looking for a person you think is a lead on your case, and finding the scene of a brutal suicide.

In Revelations 2, literally every other innocent person she ran into inside Alex Wesker’s evil torture house dies from fucking fear. And she can’t process any of that or even really show too much emotion regarding that since she’s trying to be strong for Moira. Also, you know, Neil’s betrayal is pretty fucking shitty for Claire, but again she can’t process it, she just has to kill him.

Heavenly Island we return to actual allies dying in front of her. Inez, her fell TerraSave member, someone who is just as headstrong as Claire and someone who is obviously a good friend, gets fucking killed defending her fellow survivors, and she dies in Claire’s arms.

Also like. 90% of the young women on that island are murdered and she’s powerless to stop it. Also I’ll say it, Marilou is assaulted and nearly killed, which Claire also can’t help or offer the girl comfort since they have to either run or kill Julie.

Even Death Island, even though Taylor was a fucking asshole, Claire still failed to save him and he was shot and died right next to her while she was in a jail cell about to be infected herself. When Becky saves everyone, once again no processing time, no time for relief.

I think Degeneration was the exception, but still she had to put Rani’s feelings and safety before her own, something that someone as kindhearted as Claire Redfield wouldn’t hesitate to do, but something that probably still weighs heavily on her psyche.

[duckapus]

The Squid and the Magpie

Obviously the HMG plans weren't the only things the Grid would be interested in having Piper steal (just the most important ones). Of particular note is a small God Box fragment (this one's a cracked LED bulb about the size of a baseball) that lands in Luminos. It landed near a temple, which was a good thing because even if The Church isn't in the Muses' favor their priests/clerics/whatever other sort of spiritual leaders they have are still highly proficient in their selected Muse's magical branch Because Devotion, and apparently the programming behind Harmonian Light Magic is close enough to whatever's going on with the HMGs that a strong enough purification field spell can render the Anti-Meme corruption dormant as long as it's in place.

Obviously they send word to the Queen about this, and she tells their allies from other worlds. Due to Stupid Meme Adventure Bullshit the Haltmanns won't be available to deal with it (and conduct some research on the whole Light magic thing) for a few days, during which it'll stay locked away in the temple since they've clearly got it handled.

Anyway, Piper puts the limited shapeshifting abilities of her Nanosuit to good use by posing as a priestess who's next in the rotation for renewing the spell (it's a high-level enchantment that's blocking a literal eldritch horror for the better part of a weekend keeping it fresh is not a one-cat job). Tonio spots her at some point and his untrained clairvoyance instincts immediately clock her as both a fellow thief and not a Local, so he decides to introduce himself. Nothing like a little healthy competition, after all. Plus he does not like how that strange artifact Feels and she definitely seems like the exact sort of Wrong Hands that it shouldn't fall into.

So he confronts her in the storage room that they've converted into a temporary sealing chamber for the shard. There're some threats, some flirting (okay a lot of flirting because Tonio is basically Puss in Boots and Piper's mostly caught up in the moment), they get into a fight where between Tonio's magic and swordplay, Piper's tech and marksmanship, and their respective combat experience, they turn out to be pretty evenly matched. Then the temple's clergy notices all the commotion, and Nimbus, Mario, the Haltmanns and Valiant show up. The thieves both manage to escape in their own ways, Piper managing to bring the Shard with her as planned, much to Valiant's frustration.

And then Mario makes an interesting discovery; part of the aftermath of their fight is puddles of strange teal paint-like-goop, which he manages to identify as dyed Blooper Ink, specifically Blooper Ink from his world.

See, Cephaling Ink isn't exactly easy to come by if your body doesn't produce it. Harvesting a meaningful quantity is painful for the donor, it has no shelf life, and a lot of Inklings are racist, especially if you're a mammal that isn't one of the Judds. Plus ever since Inkopolis fell the nearest Splatoon city is Splatsville, so now you've gotta take long distance shipping into account.

Meanwhile Blooper Ink is functionally identical to Cephaling Ink when it comes to Inking Turf, aside from the lack of color variety which is easily solved with some food-safe dyes, and the lack of bioluminescence which doesn't really matter. It's safer and easier to get since it isn't literally what Bloopers are made out of, you can actually store and stockpile it for later use, it's not being gatekeeped, and the beings that produce it are abundant worldwide, especially in the Mushroom Kingdom.

All that makes it the Ink of choice for former Cephalings (so just Meggy and Piper as far as we know), as well as for the Kingdom's gradually blossoming Inksports scene, which started up thanks to some Inkopolis refugees deciding to reject their cultural biases and stay in the nation that helped them when they needed it most rather than move on to the Splatlands.

So, they know which universe the mysterious blue-and-black armored thief came from, and they know that she's probably involved in Splatoon-related activities. They also know that she was likely the thief at the Port Aurora HWC facility. They do not know her identity, or of her connection to The Grid.

[agentsassy005]

I was rewatching the cartoon of avatar last airbender and realized how much story and canon stuff they fucked up on with legend of korra. They could’ve done a whole different category for korra like mastering the four elements by exploring the subcategories in elements. Metal, blood, steam, magma, healing, lightning, mud. That aang might’ve accidentally unlocked when he sealed ozais bending away in an enlightened avatar state that he was the only one who done so. And korra must relearn an ancient bending known as spiritual bending that was even lost by the avatars that aang was working on but died before finishing.

More under read more.

Also toph as the next king bumi au will always be my headcanon i seriously thought they butchered her as a cop. She will always be my con artist fav or at least in the white lotus to prevent corruption happening that fast.

Also the whole group is in like their early 50’s late 40’s when korra is a older teen kill aang a little sooner because he enlightened too early he killed his lifespan at probably 30 due to overworking himself trying to rebuild airbenders but instead of his kids he found benders that were descended from those who escaped due to gyatsu. So aang was training a new generation including the scientists family as living in the temple granted some to be born due to environment. He brought the sky bison variants bringing them back from extinction and found momos species the boy would not rest. He did have a kid with katara and traveled with them teaching them the nomad life

Korra is a southern water tribe still, keep polardog in katara was away grieving and looking for signs of the avatar, when sokka discovers korra is the avatar, she hit him with fire out of anger when he told her she can’t keep naga . Sokka loves the kid a warrior and even if a reincarnation he knows its not aang but still some quirks remain. He remembers what aang told him and is gonna help make sure korra gets her childhood first unlike most of the gang. But he takes her on lots of travels. Toph is her favorite aunt and toph recgonized that the way aang walked reincarnated calls korra twinkle toes always. And toph loves that the kid is a wild child and not a hippy like aang

Zuko is still fireking but he did divorce mei it was mutual, after they had a kid. Mei still lives in palace and acts as an advisor they both love their kid very well. Zuko and katara found each other after aangs death and married and had a child uniting water and fire tribes. Zuko also makes sure aang and kataras child know they are loved even though they won’t have their biological father with them. The three bending children cause a lot of trouble as they have to deal with all but earth elements. Mei laughs on the sideline.

Azula does get redeemed sometime inbetween. By forcing her to travel with sokka. The only one she seemed to respect see as an ally and sokka didn’t run away at her. They do have a kid surprising and pissing everyone off the kid is born around about same time as korra. So those two are best friends.

Suki and ty lee are lovers, sokka a third wheel also a donor. Both got a kid from sokka they act like twins even if only born a day apart master of chi blocking and unblocking.

Toph has a kid, nobody knows whose the father is toph is not telling. (Its sokka after a drunk night stand bad decisions made but toph did want to have a heir for her craziness) toph and suki also have a relationship ty lee doesn’t mind. All three girls are best friends

Sokka can’t have any sons it is a curse. Meanwhile katara has a son. Salty brother sokka. All the kids but suki’s and ty lees are benders. Korra feels like they’re all one big family.

The main villains would be spirits especially wan shi tong. Trying to close the bridge permanently to the spirit world as they see humans are not fit to have bending even though it is not their choice it is the lionturtle spirits choice. And wan shi tong starts trying to collect the avatars head for the past reincarnation aggression. Face stealer is helpful info and states it is a past life he needs to learn to move on. So it is a war in spirit world and real world.

Iroh still helps as a guide for korra as due to aangs enlightenment avatar state he unlocked it for the next avatar to be more spiritual, does not help korra was close to death from freezing as a kid. Aang helps teach korra killing is not always the answer. And that their are many angry spirits that are around after the war, and balance between humans and spirits must be found again now that the war is over. To learn from spirits whose rivers and forests destroyed, so we see humans and spirits recovering together. And we see yui as an ally as well.

All of this would help as world building as korra’s world building seem to forgot that some spirits gave up the immortal form and had NO WAY OF GETTING BACK TO THE SPIRIT WORLD. IM LOOKING AT YOU SEA AND MOON AND NORTHERN WATER TRIBE AS WELL AS MERGING THE TWO WORLDS PERMANENTLY WHEN THAT DIDNT NEED TO HAPPEN AS SPIRITS ARE TECHNICALLY DEAD YOUR ALLOWING PEOPLE TO CHEAT DEATH AND COME BACK TO LIFE. Also i want to see the people and spirits slowly recovering from a war that traumatized them. Begin to heal together.

[purple-raspberry]

arranged marriage with scaramouche <3

(fluff and hurt/comfort)

cw: fem!reader, swearing, reader's father is verbally abusive, reader is a little unhinged, vague mentions of murder

The only emotion you feel on your wedding day is hatred. You feel it burning you up inside, so bright and all-consuming that you think it might just melt the eternal snow of Snezhnaya that's all around you. The wedding itself is, thankfully, a short affair. Pleasantries are exchanged, the deal between your father and the Tsaritsa is officially sealed and you find yourself next to the notorious Balladeer.

At least his house is nice.

Not that you plan to stay there long, of course. While everyone around you spent the last month planning this stupid wedding, you planned your escape. Your wedding dress conceals a couple knives and your luggage hides a few more. You don't care how feared this Scaramouche is - you're getting the hell out of this town and, ideally, kingdom.

When you're finally left alone with him, the tension in the air is almost tangible. You can't deny it, you're scared. After all, he is a man, and all the women in your life have engrained this one lesson in your mind - men are more dangerous than any monster you'll find out there in the wilderness.

"Sit." he says, his back towards you. You don't.

"Would you mind if we talked tomorrow, my lord? I'm rather tired."

You notice him visibly recoiling at the title. Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair. Finally, he turns around and you feel your whole body enter fight-or-flight mode. You're so on edge that you feel like you might burst under his gaze.

"Here's the deal. I'm perfectly aware that you'd rather be anywhere else, and believe me, so would I. Unfortunately, both of us are stuck here, so why don't you put your knife away, get rid of that ridiculous dress and we can settle our business like adults."

Okay, you didn't expect this.

You sit down on the nearby couch and cross your legs in your dress just like your mother always forbade you from doing. You put your empty hands in your lap demonstratively and you think you catch a hint of a smirk on his face.

"I was under the impression you helped coordinate the deal between my father and the Tsaritsa." You say and he scoffs.

"The Tsaritsa loves to test my loyalty. This is as unwanted on my end as it is on yours."

"Why don't I just leave then? A win for both of us."

"I can't let you do that." You tense up again. "I can't afford to let the Tsaritsa think I killed you, and she'd never believe that you managed to run away from me."

You raise your eyebrow at his words. You knew he was a big deal among the Fatui, and clearly he thought it was for good reason. You stay silent for some time, weighing your options. You're very familiar with the situation he's in, as it mirrors your own almost perfectly. Your father's words echo in your mind.

"Don't you dare fuck this up for me. If you disobey me, I'll make sure you regret being born."

Suddenly you find the whole situation very funny. You rise from the couch and move to stand in front of Scaramouche. There's a smirk on your face and you extend your hand to him.

"Then I look forward to becoming good allies with you, my lord."

You notice again his distaste for the title. Yes, you think, you'll get along wonderfully.

It takes you two weeks to fully insert yourself into his life, and it takes another for him to notice. The day when it hits him is when he finishes all his paperwork just as the sun is coming down. He realises no one has bothered him all day - he hasn't heard the annoying laughter of the maids in the corridor outside his office or had his subordinates bring him unimportant news. All of this peace has culminated in his work being done at what most would consider the perfect time for dinner. Seeing as he's not truly human, he doesn't need to eat as often, but he decides that he might as well do it now.

He arrives in the kitchen ready to scold his chef if he's slacking again, only to find you in the middle of making some soup. You turn and greet him with a wave like this is a completely normal situation.

"What the hell are you in the kitchen for?"

"Oh, I fired your chef weeks ago."

Scaramouche blinks, stares at you and then blinks again. You're moving around the kitchen like it's your natural habitat, stirring your soup in between pulling out bowls and spoons. He's never felt this confused in his entire life. You have him try the soup and don't even wait for his response before you pour you both a bowl.

"How did you even fire the chef?!"

"Some of the maids too. Really, you had an unnecessary amount of staff. Half of them didn't even do anything. Anyway, yeah, it turns out I can do that since we're married."

"Is that why it's been so quiet? Usually I can't get them to leave me alone."

"Oh, I just forbade them from going in that wing of the house."

The thing is, Scaramouche rarely likes people. However, in just three weeks you've managed to improve his life more than any of his subordinates, and some of them have worked with him for years. If he were someone else, he'd try to think of a way to thank you, but he's himself, so all you get as a result of your efforts is a nod.

From that day forward, he starts to spend more time with you. You're mostly in the library anyway, so it becomes common for him to join you occasionally. When you get up to cook, he'll pick up his book and wordlessly come along with you. You build up a nice routine of discussing books and events around the kingdom. He complains about his work and you share with him all the stupid gossip you've picked up lately. Scaramouche loves to make fun of others and some of his remarks have you both cackling. One time you managed to get him to laugh properly at one of your jokes and you couldn't help but think: this isn't so bad.

Then, the invitation comes. The Tsaritsa's annual ball demands all harbingers and other Fatui members to show up, and you're sure your father will be there as well. All of a sudden you're reminded of your situation, of what people think your relationship with Scaramouche is. At least you're both on the same page.

The night before, you hover in the doorway of his bedroom. It's not unusual for you to distract him with some lighthearted chatter, but not in this case. He notices, of course, but waits for you to speak.

"Could you do me a favour?" You finally ask. The fact that you're asking for something is so unusual in itself that it catches him off guard.

"What do you need?"

"I don't..." You pause to take a deep breath. "I'm afraid of my father cornering me. I'm sure he'll find some way to be disappointed in me and I'd rather avoid him."

"What do you need me for?" He frowns at your words.

"Just... stick around me, please?"

Your request has him doing a double take. It's the first time you've ever been truly vulnerable around Scaramouche. Even on the first night, when you were afraid of him, you were ready to fight. It startles him, how far the two of you have come in such a short time. He wonders when he started to think of you as a friend. He pushes the thought away in favour of responding to you.

"Of course," he gives you a rare small smile. "You're better company than any of those idiots anyway."

The Tsaritsa's castle is as intimidating on the inside as it is on the outside. Scaramouche leads you into a huge ballroom. It's so full of people that it makes you a little claustrophobic. You go through the motions with him as you're supposed to - you greet the Tsaritsa, you dance together and it's only a little awkward. You catch a glimpse of your father once, but you quickly steer Scaramouche in a different direction. He fulfils his promise without complaint, even if his face is set in its usual displeased expression.

Of course, every promise is easier said than done. Some tall ginger guy comes out of nowhere and pulls Scaramouche away from you to tell him something. That alone is enough for the crowd to separate the two of you. You try to stay calm and find him again, but your fears come true as you feel a familiar grip on your forearm pull you out of the ballroom.

"Good evening, father." Your voice is stable, though you can't help the rising fear.

"You ungrateful brat," he hisses. "After everything I've done for you, you continue to disappoint me."

"I- I don't know what you mean, father-"

"Oh, don't you start. You had one job, you just had to be a proper wife, yet it seems you can't even manage that. Everyone can see how miserable Lord Scaramouche looks next to you, I dread to even think how you've embarrassed me."

You don't bother to try and defend yourself. The situation is familiar to you with how often it occurred throughout your childhood. What does surprise you, however, is the anger bubbling inside you as your father keeps talking.

"And then! You have the nerve to avoid me as if I'm unworthy of your respect-"

"You are!" You spit out suddenly. He looks taken aback at you talking back to him before fury settles on his face. However, just as he's about to continue his tirade, someone behind him clears their throat.

"If you'll excuse me, I have some urgent matters to discuss with my wife."

You've never heard Scaramouche sound so cold before. Based on the rumours you've heard about him, though, it's probably what he sounds like when he's commanding the Fatui. Your father tries to protest, but gives up and leaves. You try to compose yourself.

"What do you wish to discuss?"

"Are you alright?" he asks. It's then that you realise your hands are shaking and tears are threatening to start falling from your eyes. You don't answer him. Instead, you move to sit on the carpeted floor, rest your head against the wall and close your eyes. You hear shuffling, only to find that Scaramouche has moved to sit next to you. You stay silent. The looming tall ceiling of the corridor makes you feel small.

"I've never stood up to him before." you whisper.

"Then you must have the patience of a saint."

"Or the timidness of a lamb."

"You were ready to pull a knife on me the second we met, I'd hardly call that timid."

That pulls a laugh out of you. In a moment of bravery, you move your head to rest against his shoulder. He doesn't push you away like you expected him to. Instead, he takes one of your still shaking hands. You aren't sure how long you sit there, but eventually he stands and pulls you up.

"Come on," he says. "Let's go home."

And isn't that a thought, that you've started to think of this house as more of a home than you've ever had before. That night, it's not you standing in the doorway of his bedroom, but him leaning on yours. He looks vaguely uncomfortable, which you've come to learn means that you've hit an unpleasant topic for him. You never press when that happens in your conversations, but it seems he's trying to do it himself.

"I'm sorry," he says, clearly unused to the words. "You put your trust in me and I failed you."

You're shaking your head even before he's finished speaking and move to stand in front of him.

"It wasn't your fault. And besides, you came for me." you pause to calm your shaking voice. "It's more than anyone has done for me before."

"You deserve better than that."

You can't help it. You wrap your arms around him and bury your face in the crook of his neck. You know he doesn't like physical affection that much, but he still responds to your embrace.

"Thank you, Scara." you whisper.

"Kunikuzushi."

You pull back to look at him, but he doesn't meet your gaze.

"It's my real name. You can use it if you want."

You very much do.

Life hardly changes for the two of you after that. You're even closer and you realise you're actually enjoying your life. Even the responsibilities of a big house aren't annoying - the maids come twice a week and you're usually there to supervise them. Still, it takes you a little while to hear their gossip.

The first time you notice something is off is when you see two of them giggling about something. You don't care much so you only raise an eyebrow at them when you pass them. The second time, however, you manage to hear a bit of their conversation.

"You shouldn't be talking like that, Maggie!"

"What, am I wrong? It's not like he's into her, he's always out or holed up in his office!"

You purposefully make your footsteps louder as you round the corridor. Yet, it's clear your appearance caught them by surprise. It makes you feel a little satisfied to see their scared faces as you walk by. You wonder if Scaramouche is rubbing off on you.

(You refuse to think about what Maggie said.)

Except, you keep noticing things. The way she's always hanging around the entrance to the wing you've forbidden them from entering. The way she's always the one to greet Scaramouche at the door if he comes home before the maids leave. But you're not jealous. You're not.

After all, you're the one who gets to see his smile when you greet him immediately after.

One day you find her standing at the door of his office and your blood runs cold. You know he isn't home and your mind starts racing. Is she trying to spy on the Fatui's business? Then, you see the letter in her hands and the blush on her face and you realise it's not nearly as sinister. Nevertheless, your voice is cold when you approach her.

"I'm afraid Lord Scaramouche went out earlier."

She nearly jumps with how hard you startle her.

"Madam, I- I was just-"

"I don't know what has led you to believe otherwise," you state. "But there is already a lady of this house."

Her face is burning with shame and she runs away before you can say anything else. You sigh and go into the office just to make sure she didn't actually touch anything. You're still there when Kunikuzushi comes home.

"Have you been firing my staff again? The girl at the door was different than usual." Your body tenses up. He'd noticed her?

"We had a... disagreement." you say coldly. "I assume she went home early."

You aren't looking at him, but you know him well enough to know he's raising his eyebrow at you.

"Must have been some disagreement to leave you this upset."

"She just needed to be reminded of her place is all."

You finally look at him, only to see him staring at you in thought as he pieces everything together.

"Were you jealous?" He asks you bluntly and you can tell he finds it amusing. You huff and turn away. You can feel your blush, but you'd rather die before you acknowledge it.

"You're such an idiot." The words aren't unusual for him to say, but the soft tone is new to you. "You always think so little of yourself. Tell me, can you name someone whose company I prefer over yours? Do you know of anyone else whom I let use my real name?"

You refuse to look at him. You know you mean a lot to him, you're not blind. But you want to be more. He stands in front of you and gently pushes your chin so he can look you in the eyes.

"What lowly maid could ever hold a candle to you?" He whispers before he kisses you gently, just once. Your thought process comes to a complete halt. His gaze never leaves yours. You want to count the stars in his eyes. You wonder if he's counting them in yours.

You don't fire Maggie, in the end. You don't think you need any more satisfaction than her crestfallen face when your husband kisses you goodbye for all the maids to see.

(That night, when you're sitting together in the library, he makes fun of you for the sadistic tendencies you've picked up from him. Then, he asks if you want to help him make your father 'disappear'. You only laugh and keep running your fingers through his hair. He's definitely rubbing off on you.)

[searidings]

Lena definitely just lets Jess walk into her office without knocking and that has definitely led to her walking in on Lena in Supergirl’s arms

Jessica Hoang’s job pays well.

Like, really well. Like, buy-your-mother-a-new-Valentino-purse-every-Christmas well. Surprise-your-boyfriend-with-a-trip-to-the-Bahamas well. Rub-your-success-in-your-high-school-nemeses’-face-at-the-reunion-but-like-in-a-classy-way well.

And it’s not that it’s exactly unreasonable. Being Lena Luthor’s assistant is no cake walk. Jess has been shot at. She’s been almost blown up on more than one occasion. She’s worked all the hours god sends and then some. Hell, she’s got the chief detective of NCPD’s major crimes unit on speed dial.

She has, at various times and with varying degrees of success, played the roles of bodyguard, nutritionist, nurse, therapist, and drinking buddy. She’s seen Lena in every shade and hue of human emotion; coaxed her through crisis after crisis with warm words and a kind smile and never once let her miss a meeting.

So, Jess doesn’t really mind accepting the generous salary. Has even made peace with the borderline obscene bonuses Lena likes to toss her way around Christmas, or her birthday, or any time Jess introduces her to a new kale recipe.

She’s not arrogant, but she’s not prone to under-selling herself either. She knows Lena values her, knows she’s integral to keeping L-Corp’s CEO afloat and thus, to the running of the whole operation. And more than that, she knows her own worth. Takes pride in the work she does.

So she’ll take the paycheck, and the late nights and the missed meals and all the other things that come part and parcel with employment in National City’s most conspicuous company.

And if those other things come to include a front row ticket to the tragicomedy of her boss’ relationship with a certain blonde reporter, so be it. She’s not about to quit, after all. Once she’d gotten a taste of sleeping on Egyptian cotton bed sheets, there was no going back.

-

It started with the unrestricted office access.

Actually, it started when Lena allergic-to-the-press Luthor first asked her to put in a call to the biggest news outlet in town to request a private meeting with one of their junior reporters, but Jess lets that one slide.

(She’s got her own hunk of a man to go home to every night, yet even she’s not immune to Miss Danvers’ button down and slacks combo, to her earnest blue eyes and eager charm. Lena can’t be blamed for falling under that spell, nor for the hypnotic allure of the muscles straining beneath those demure cardigans. She’s only human, after all.)

But adding Kara Danvers to the list of people to be waved straight into her boss’ office with no checks – or rather, creating said list, which to this day consists of precisely one name – was what really sealed the deal. It was portentous in every sense of the word, a harbinger of what was to come.

Since that fateful day, Jess has seen more of Lena and Kara’s relationship than she’s sure any of the three of them would ideally prefer.

At first, it was the interviews. They’d been fishy enough in themselves; sure, Lena Luthor is objectively interesting. But three separate articles in the span of two weeks? No one’s that interesting.

After the interviews, it was the lunch dates. The first time she’d interrupted one of those she’d almost fallen over her own feet in shock. The sight of Lena Luthor – the same Lena Luthor that Jess had, on more than one occasion, needed to actively bribe into ingesting anything other than espresso and scotch in a fourteen hour workday – licking burger grease off her fingers and happy as a clam, had thrown her off for the whole rest of the day.

(Lena had long since instructed Jess to just stick her head into her office without knocking if she needed her. “Things can go to hell far too quickly around here to waste time with buzzers and intercoms,” she’d said with a self-deprecating smile.

If only Jess had known then what she knows now, she might have put up more of a fight on that front.)

The lunch dates had gotten longer, and more frequent, and decidedly more intimate. A year after the reporter’s first appearance at L-Corp it had become commonplace for Jess to walk into her boss’ office to find the two of them slanted close together on the couch, Lena’s heels discarded, her stockinged feet tucked beneath the blonde’s thigh.

Then, Kara started showing up at 7pm to drag Lena away from her desk at a reasonable hour. Started dropping by on her way to Catco before work too, fumbling coffees and pastries in her blushing grip.

(She always brought a latte for Jess along with Lena’s regular order. Of all the developments, that was certainly one of the most welcome.)

She got to know Kara, as the years went on. Was pleased to discover that she truly was as delightful as she seemed. And it was nice to finally have an ally in her ongoing battle to regulate her boss’ shockingly unhealthy work habits. She and Kara could tag-team their efforts, trading off caffeine duty and playing bad cop to get Lena to leave the office before midnight. It meant that Jess had finally, occasionally, gotten a day off.

It didn’t escape her notice that Kara was always there on the bad days. She showed up like clockwork after every ruthless smear campaign against L-Corp, every stock market plummet, every assassination attempt. She would enter the office to find Lena crying and she would leave with the dark haired woman tucked securely against her side, if not smiling then at least calm. At least hopeful.

And Kara was there on the good days, too. The mergers and the product launches and the prototype successes; she celebrated every one of Lena’s triumphs as if they were her own. And Lena, Lena lit up when Kara was around. Bloomed like a rare flower beneath the megawatt glare of Kara’s sunshine devotion.

Her boss never said so in so many words, nor did Jess ever walk in on anything directly incriminating. But it was clear to anyone with eyes exactly what was happening between the two women, exactly where it would lead.

And then one day, Kara wasn’t there anymore.

-

The effect was as obvious as it was immediate.

Lena started coming in early and staying late, if she left the office at all. She barely ate. Her face was pale and drawn, and Jess would often enter her office to find her boss’ eyes red-rimmed.

It became glaringly, painfully obvious that without Kara dropping by at all hours of the day and night, no one was coming to visit Lena.

Her boss became closed-off and withdrawn, more so even than when Jess had first started at L-Corp. Gone were their weekly gossip sessions about the crotchety old men Lena couldn’t yet oust from the company’s board. Gone was her boss’ openness about her own life or her interest in Jess’, her frequent requests for photos of her cats or updates on the master’s in computer science she was studying for in the evenings evaporating into thin air.

Lena did not want to talk about it. Jess was informed of this emphatically and repeatedly whenever she would tentatively reach out, and slowly she stopped trying.

The closest they ever came to acknowledging the elephant in the room was the night of L-Corp’s annual fundraiser at the Luthor Children’s Hospital. Once the gala was over, Jess had run back to the office to drop off the donation paperwork in the company safe only to notice a faint light beneath Lena’s office door.

She’d entered to find Lena hunched on the floor of her private bathroom, heels kicked off and hair falling out of its intricate updo, mascara streaking her cheeks as she sobbed into her hands. Jess hadn’t hesitated for even a second before sinking down beside her.

Wrapping a secure arm around her boss’ shoulders and smoothing the flyaway hairs from her flushed face, she’d tried her best to convey the support and reassurance that Lena had so consistently shown to her. But the young woman had brushed off her platitudes even as the tears had continued to fall.

“It’s not okay,” she’d hiccupped against Jess’ shoulder, the scotch evident on her breath. “She’s gone. I won’t ever get her back.”

And that’s all she would say on the matter. Eventually, the tears had dried up and the exhaustion had set in and Jess had chaperoned her all the way back to her apartment and into bed.

Lena had shown up for work the next day in a pair of oversize aviators, clinging to her triple shot extra-large americano like a lifeline. She’d dropped a latte on Jess’ desk with a rueful smile, and that had been that. They never talked about it again.

-

That whole dark period only cemented the strong protective streak Jess had been cultivating over her boss ever since the very first attempt on her life.

It’s just that Lena is strong, and smart as hell and unfailingly kind and utterly undeserving of the punishment the world keeps foisting on her for her family’s sins. And worse, she’s not prepared to fight back. She just accepts it, internalises the hatred and the burden and the blame and Jess cannot, will not watch it happen. So sue her if she’s a little hyper-vigilant, a little possessive.

And so when Kara Danvers had shown up again one unassuming Tuesday, Jess intercepted her trajectory at Lena’s office door with narrowed eyes and a suspicious glare.

It must have been effective – she’d learned from stone cold boardroom killer Lena Luthor, after all – because the reporter shrank back a little beneath the force of her stare. Kara cleared her throat nervously and Jess had been a split second from launching into a what are your intentions with my girl speech ripped straight from a bad 1980s teen movie when the door opened behind her and Lena appeared.

“It’s fine, Jess,” her boss murmured and she had, reluctantly, stepped aside to let the blonde pass. Not before fixing Kara Danvers with one last pointed glare, though. If Lena wasn’t going to protect herself then Jess would just have to do it for her.

But there was no shouting, no screaming, no audible arguments. And when the blonde left a half hour later and Jess stuck her head through the office door to very unsubtly check on Lena’s wellbeing, there was no trace of red-rimmed eyes or tear stains. Lena simply offered up a small smile, a soft smile and once again, that appeared to be that.

Slowly, Kara Danvers became a regular fixture in L-Corp again, alongside the fancy espresso machines in every break room and the ever-present whiff of soldered metal.

Jess remained wary, a fact which did not seem to go unnoticed by the reporter. In fact, Kara redoubled her efforts to win her over, including new pastries and other sweet treats with the lattes she still regularly delivered.

“I can’t be bought, you know,” Jess had said once, taking the offered apricot Danish anyway. Her loyalty wasn’t up for auction, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t capitalise on the spoils of a bidding war.

Kara had only smiled sadly. “I know. I’m glad.” At Jess’ inquisitive stare she’d just shaken her head, reaching up to adjust her glasses. “I’m glad she has you.”

Jess had hmphed rather ungracefully, licking a stray flake of pastry from the end of her finger. She may have broken her boss’ heart, but no one could deny that Kara Danvers had great taste in desserts.

“I’m not looking for her forgiveness. Or yours,” Kara had continued, so surprising that Jess had inhaled a healthy gulp of latte directly into her lung. The reporter had waited until she’d finished spluttering before she continued. “I don’t deserve it. But for what it’s worth, she has me, too. Again, I mean. For as long as she wants me.”

Jess had narrowed her eyes, searching for any trace of insincerity in that earnest, handsome face. Finding none, her feelings toward the reporter had at last settled somewhere in the ballpark of grudging respect.

And there they’ve remained. She still watches the blonde carefully, still keeps a wary eye out for any sign that things may crumble into dust again. But Kara is true to her word. She shows up, she keeps showing up, and she sticks around.

And slowly, achingly slowly, the light comes back to Lena’s eyes.

-

It’s just another regular unassuming Tuesday when everything shifts again.

Kara Danvers hasn’t yet shown up for lunch and her boss’ conference call was scheduled to have ended a half hour ago, and this stack of expense reports desperately needs Lena’s signature so Jess doesn’t bother knocking as she shoulders open the office door.

A lesser assistant might have shrieked. They’d definitely have dropped the gargantuan stack of reports all over the floor. But Jessica Hoang was trained by Lena Luthor herself. She’s got dignity and composure for days.

Even so, it takes every ounce of poise she can muster not to let out so much as a squeak at the sight of her boss hovering a solid five feet above the floor of her office, enveloped tightly in the arms of a fully kitted and caped Supergirl.

It’s an unavoidably intimate embrace. Lena’s stockinged feet perch lightly on the toes of the hero’s red boots, her arms wrapped snug around the Kryptonian’s neck. Their foreheads are pressed together and they’re just gazing into one another’s eyes, Supergirl’s arms slung low around Lena’s waist as she drifts them in lazy mid-air circles.

For one horrible, stomach-churning moment Jess is faced with the mind-boggling possibility that her boss is, for all intents and purposes, cheating on her reporter gal pal with the city’s superpowered sweetheart.

But equanimity isn’t the only talent she’s picked up from Lena. Her problem solving skills aren’t bad either, or so her boyfriend is fond of grumbling when she steals the Sunday crossword out from under his nose.

Jess uses the split second before they react to her presence to appraise the scene with a critical eye.

At this proximity, there’s something decidedly familiar about those blue eyes and flowing golden locks. But the real clincher doesn’t end up coming from Supergirl at all. It’s the softness in her boss’ expression, the gentle slant of her features and the unguarded love in her eyes in the brief moment before she registers the interruption that really seals the deal.

Jess has, after all, seen Lena in every shade and hue of human emotion. The list of people her boss would look at like that, much like the list of people with unrestricted access to her office, consists of precisely one name.  

Two heads snap towards her in perfect tandem, two jaws hitting the floor in quick succession. Lena gasps and shoves herself away from Supergirl like the woman has suddenly become radioactive, apparently forgetting that she’s not currently abiding by the laws of terrestrial gravity and almost plummeting five feet to the ground.

She’s saved by the hero’s lightning fast reflexes, strong arms snapping out to catch her around the waist and pulling their bodies snugly back together into an embrace somehow even more intimate than the original.

Jess smirks. Lena’s cheeks are redder than she’s ever seen them as Supergirl floats them both gently back to the ground. “This isn’t— we were just— she’s not—” Lena tries half-heartedly as the superhero shuffles her feet at her side, blushing like a chastised schoolgirl.

Jess bites the inside of her cheek, calling upon every last shred of her professionalism to keep from laughing. “Your two o’clock is here,” she says gently, gracing her boss with a genuine smile. Jess may be proud of her own bullish protectiveness in front of others, but she’s a simple girl at heart. If Lena’s happy, she’s happy.

Both women are still staring at her slack-jawed. It appears no response is forthcoming any time soon.

Jess decides to put them out of their misery. “Just buzz when you want me to send him in, Miss Luthor. Miss Danvers,” she nods in acknowledgment as she ducks quickly back out of the room. Not quick enough, though, to miss the choked sounds of shock from behind her, nor the heated stage-whisper of how does she know, Lena? that follows her out of the door.

Jess shakes her head. And she doesn’t even have superhearing.

-

Lena Luthor has many strengths but subtlety, apparently, is not one of them.

That’s the conclusion Jess has no choice but to land on as she stares down at her phone. The extra 10k that has materialised in her bank account without warning or explanation could hardly be more obvious if it had come with the payee reference hush money right there in black and white.

Well. If Jess hadn’t been sure before, she certainly is now.

She shakes her head fondly. As if she would ever sell out her boss on anything, much less on what is very clearly a matter of the heart.

After all these years working together, she knows Lena trusts her. But she can also picture clear as day the scene that must have transpired in the office behind her just moments ago. Lena and Kara, panicking about being discovered. Lena falling back into her Luthor conditioning, deciding to clean up the mess by throwing money at it. The instant regret as she realises she’s just confirmed that there is in fact something to be covered up.

For a certified genius, her boss sure can be dense.

Jess chuckles. Taps out of her banking app and pulls up her messages. Your super secret’s safe with me she types, grinning. I’ve never told a soul that you were drunk as a skunk at the annual board meeting three years ago, and that was without a single dollar in bribes. Why would this be any different?

Hitting send, she swears she actually hears the sigh of relief her boss lets out despite the three inches of solid oak door separating them. She shakes her head again, biting her lip.

I’m happy for you, Lena she sends, warm affection swelling in her chest. Smiles when her screen lights up a moment later with a single red heart.

She locks her phone and squares her shoulders. Skims a critical eye over the weekly schedule she already knows by heart. Ushers in Lena’s two o’clock at her boss’ signal and settles back at her desk. Pulls up a new browser tab and searches up the cost of last-minute flights to the Maldives.

Just because Lena’s hush money was unnecessary, that doesn’t mean it can’t be put to good use.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Time traveling bad guy. WR?

Targets - Chapter 1 - ao3

Nie Mingjue knew that spies were a necessity of life, even if he wished they weren’t.

Life, he often thought, would be much easier if you could just trust other people to be direct with you and they in turn trusted you to be direct with them, if you could resolve minor disputes with a spar to get out the energy and then some good conversation over some wine. Sadly, life just wasn’t like that.

So, like any good sect leader, Nie Mingjue had spies.

Usually, they sent reports through underground channels – there were many of them, enough to give him a headache trying to recall them all – but his spymaster had told him that in times of great need, one of the spies might decide that the news they had was so important that they would risk destroying their own cover and come in person. In such cases, Nie Mingjue knew that he had to let them in at once, no matter what else might be going on.

He did not know the spy currently in front of him except in portraiture, as the man had been put in place by Nie Mingjue’s father, but Nie Mingjue knew the signs of someone who had flown on a sword all night at top speed. He excused himself from all other obligations and took the man into the office with him at once, assuming the news was important.

It was.

“Are you certain about this?” Nie Mingjue asked, staring at the piece of paper he was doing his utmost best not to crumple in his fist.

The spy nodded.

“Thank you,” Nie Mingjue said. “Go get the doctors to look at you, some food, then rest. You won’t be returning to Qishan.”

The spy saluted with a deep bow, and then left.

Nie Mingjue took a deep breath, held it for a few heartbeats, and then exhaled. Then he summoned his war council and told them that Wen Ruohan was starting a war.

“He’s not ready yet,” one of his sect elders objected. “It may just be a ruse to get our guard up –”

“It is not,” Nie Mingjue said firmly. “It is happening. If it were just aimed at us, it would be one thing, but this move affects all the Great Sects. I want all the precautions we put in place activated at once: everyone inside the walls, the shields raised, and a purge conducted of all those we know or suspect to be spies.”

They seemed ready to argue, just as they’d always argued against all of his preparations, all of his precautions, against his desire for revenge against the man who had murdered his father, so he added, ”I have called you in here to inform you of my decision, not seek consultation. It is not up for debate.”

Hearing the determination in his voice, his sect elders did not argue. They bowed.

“In connection with alerting the other sects, I’ll go myself to Yunmeng,” Nie Mingjue said, shelving any feelings of relief that they had not opposed him and moving on to practicalities. “Jiang Fengmian is cautious and conservative; he won’t take anything other than a personal visit seriously enough.” He hesitated briefly, then firmed up his resolve. “I’m taking Huaisang with me.”

They all looked at the piece of paper laying innocently on his desk.

The list of names.

Of targets.

The list held the names of all their younger generation, the heirs of the Great Sects and a few other names – Wen Ruohan had given orders that they all be captured and brought to the Nightless City. If the capture were rendered impossible, his instructions were that they be killed rather than allowed to escape.

Killed. The heirs of the Great Sects!

“Yunmeng?” Nie Zonghui said, not opposing but merely seeking to confirm. “Not Gusu?”

The Gusu Lan were better allies of theirs than Yunmeng Jiang, but that was exactly why Nie Mingjue shook his head in denial. “I’ll give you my personal seal,” he told Nie Zonghui. “Lan Qiren was a friend of my father’s, and trusts me personally; moreover, he is very protective of his nephews. He will agree to our request even without my personal guarantee.”

Nods all around.

“What about Lanling?” one of the other elders asked. “Jin Guangshan is a closer ally to Qishan Wen than he is to us. His son is on the list, and yet…whether he will believe us…”

“The reports say that the Wen sect is dragging their feet on fulfilling their orders, confusing and dangerous as they are,” Nie Mingjue said. “That’s why I believe I can make it to Yunmeng in time. From Yunmeng, I’ll go in person to Lanling, making only one diversion to get this – Meng Yao person that’s ranked so highly on the list, though as a precaution we should send a disciple ahead to locate and hold him. As for Lanling…”

He bit his lower lip. He usually tried not to, especially not when he was pretending to be even half the sect leader his father had been – he was only three years into the role, only eighteen years old even if he was pretending to be twenty-one, and these elders had seen him grow up. The last thing he wanted was to project immaturity as he was making what was either best or worst decision of his life.

Still, a list like this..? He was sure the information was good, even if he had no idea what it was that had driven Wen Ruohan from his slow, cautious plans for domination that they could not stop even as they knew what he was doing, to change from that into this – this recklessness.  

The only way to counter a move like this was with recklessness of their own.

“Send someone to Lanling City,” he finally said. “Someone not formally affiliated with our sect. If the Wen sect drags their feet, that leaves a window open for someone else to make the attempt. A failed kidnapping attempt will make them raise their guard just in time to block any real attempt, and make my argument, when I arrive to present it, significantly more persuasive.”

They were silent for a moment. Finally, an elder said, “If Jin Guangshan ever finds out that we took this action, it would be catastrophic. Even if it ultimately turns out the list is correct.”

“I know,” Nie Mingjue said. “Nevertheless, that is my decision. Go.”

They bowed again, and went.

Nie Mingjue went to find Nie Huaisang.

“We’re going on a trip now,” he said, bundling his brother into a winter coat despite the warm fall weather – his brother was ten and nowhere near having the golden core he would need to develop to keep himself warm at the high altitudes they would be flying at. “It’ll be fun.”

It would not be fun.

He would have to fly at top speed, putting all his spiritual energy and concentration on that – there would be no sight-seeing, no playing around, only the cold and bitter air blowing into their faces.

But he didn’t dare leave his brother here, either. Not when Nie Huaisang’s name was on the list.

Not before they’d cleaned house.

They weren’t the only ones to use spies, after all.

“Where are we going?” Nie Huaisang said, eyes brightening at once. “Is there shopping there?”

“Amazing amounts of shopping,” Nie Mingjue said, thinking of the Lotus Pier’s busy dockyards and Lanling City’s shopping district. “I don’t know how much time we’ll have to actually go shopping, though.”

Nie Huaisang waved a hand like the spoiled young master he was. “It’s fine, da-ge,” he said loftily. “I can just keep track of where I want to visit later on.”

As long as there was a later on, Nie Mingjue would take Nie Huaisang anywhere he damn well liked, and let him empty half the treasury to boot.

“Deal,” he said, and drew Baxia.

Nie Huaisang’s eyes widened. “Wait, when you said we’re leaving now, you mean – now? Don’t we need to wait for whatever attendants are coming with us?”

“Get on the saber, Huaisang.”

Nie Huaisang got on the saber.

Nie Mingjue departed the Unclean Realm with no attendants but for his younger brother for the first time in his time as sect leader, and as he left he could feel the oppressive weight of the Nie sect’s magical shield come crashing down behind him, its prohibition even stricter than Gusu Lan’s with its required entrance tokens. Just as he’d arranged over a year ago now, the most trusted of his people would be calling in everyone for a review – all the Nie sect disciples, all the staff and servants, even their usual suppliers, anyone with access to the Unclean Realm. Everyone deemed even remotely suspicious would be temporarily removed from their post and placed under guard; once cleared, Nie sect disciples would be stationed among the common people to root out any leaks that might come from that direction.

The Unclean Realm would be cleansed of the taint of Qishan Wen, and all before the Nightless City would hear of it, cutting them off before they could break off their rash course of action in kidnapping the heirs.

As for the heirs themselves…

Nie Mingjue could only hope that he would make it in time.

[dashedwithromance]

Secret Moments In A Crowded Room - Princewitch

okay so DISCLAIMER im scared to post this because we’ve never really seen romantic wrath before so idk if people might think this is OOC but i wanted princewitch fluff desperately and cant wait til october. inspired by the teaser quote she released yesterday and ‘dress’ by taylor swift

-

The ball raged on around her, dancers swirling around impossibly fast, flashes of fabric catching the light of the serpent scones. On and on, all without her. Her husband sat to her right on his larger throne, staring into nothing. They had exchanged all of five words that evening.

She did not blame her husband for his coldness, not truly. If their positions were switched, and she had been forced to marry a random demon while still loving and grieving her murdered spouse, she doubted whether she would even manage civility. Pride continued his business, barely taking notice of his young wife, and she was glad, of that, at least. If he’d wanted her... a shudder snaked down her spine, curling in her gut. Her mind still echoed with the unnatural violation of Lust’s magic, and the thought of another demon prince perusing her like that was foul. There was only one prince she wanted, and his sin was wrath.

Dancing in Hell was nothing like she’d seen on the streets of Palermo. Nothing like the carefree dancing of Vittoria, so full of light and life and love that nothing seemed to touch her. Here, movements entwined with danger, every dance a flirtation with living death. People danced with weapons, exchanging daggers and rondels and rapiers like secret lovers. Jewelled garrottes hung around every neck, poisonous pearls glittering in various ornate hairstyles. An unholy masquerade indeed.

Her own mask was a fine decoration of gold and jewels. Metallic serpents entwined across the mosaic-like surface, darker cracks embedded across it. The mask had arrived one evening at her rooms, wrapped in luscious velvet. No letter accompanied it, the only sign of the sender being a golden snake that slithered up her arm before dissolving into sparks. The decoration matched her dress, a similar mosaic of black silk, lace, and golden serpents. Truly befitting a queen.

Fury burned through her as she watched the revellers pass her by. They danced without a care, members of the seven houses intermingling freely. She wanted to scream and shatter the very throne she sat on. How dare they dance as if mere months ago, one of their own had not been taking the hearts of witches? As if she did not sit on a dead witch’s throne? A witch who still had not found justice, who’s body had been ripped to shreds in the cruellest way imaginable?

“Careful, little queen.” Pride’s voice rumbled in her ear. He still did not look at her, but leaned closer to whisper, “Lest the people learn your ungrateful thoughts.”

Closing her eyes to avoid murdering the demon she’d married, she took a deep breath. The air smelt like fire and spirits and the sweat of colliding bodies. Suddenly, the sight of it all disgusted her. The dancing, the drinking, the living, all of it. Selfish, she knew – others were allowed to live despite Vittoria being denied the very same. But she couldn’t help it. She longed for nothing more than her sister to live, even if it meant sacrificing her life to the demon beside her. There was nothing to be done, however. Her sister was lost forever.

The night dwindled on, interrupted by the occasional violent thought towards her situation. Though, as contrary as it sounded, not all was dark about her time in Hell. She had one bright spot, one flame in the dark. Something she kept locked against her chest for fear of discovery.

Casting her eye across the room, she caught the gaze of the hidden secret. Prince Wrath leaned against the wall from across the room, his eyes flickering as they locked with hers. He was dressed in a sinfully beautiful suit, a pattern of golden serpents slithering up the fabric from the floor. The snakes seemed alive in the firelight. Perhaps they were. A smug sense of satisfaction ebbed through her when she realised they matched. No one else would notice – serpents weren’t exactly an uncommon motif in Hell – but they knew, and it was comfort enough. With a movement, so small she nearly missed it, he tilted his head towards the exit.

A thrill raced through her, paired with genuine, loving excitement. They had not been alone in much too long.

Things had not always been so relaxed between her and the prince of Wrath. Her first few weeks in Hell had been spent furiously glaring in his direction. He’d given her the ultimate cold shoulder until she’d nearly burned from it. She’d been full of fury at his leaving her – at the humiliation she felt from having the human audacity to trust a demon. One day, when they crossed each other in a hallway heading to court, her temper had bubbled to boiling.

She remembered yanking him into a nearby room – he let her, she realised now – and yelled at him for the cruelty of leaving her alone. Of giving her hope and wrenching it away, like a child suddenly filled with jealously over a shared toy.

The sheer incredulity on his face was the first indication she was mistaken. He laughed, a sardonic sound coated in disbelief.

“I left you?” His voice was low. The walls around them seemed to thrum in response to his deadly power.

“I left you?” He repeated, “I gave you all the tools to summon me, witch, and you refused. Too good for my help, perhaps.  I have no more responsibilities to you. Our deal is done.”

Wrath turned to leave, but by some miracle, she managed to dart in front of him. Her body was pressed against the door, the cold stone mixing with the heat she felt roaring off him. Emilia should’ve been afraid, should’ve been trembling in her gifted boots at the sight of him, but she wasn’t. Why, she couldn’t quite tell.

His gaze burned into hers, but her own was just as powerful.

“I tried everything to summon you after what Envy did, and you didn’t come.” She hissed. The wrath of a prince was one thing, but hell hath no fury like a witch scorned. “You left me. I was foolish enough to believe you would ca- that you would come for me once, but I will not be fooled twice.”

The look he gave her was indiscernible. Equal parts rage mixed with... something lighter. If anyone else looked at her like that, she would’ve described it as hopeful. But demons did not hope, no more than they loved.

He was scanning her face with the focus of a battle-hardened warrior. Whatever it was he found made him take a step back.

“What did you do wrong?” He muttered, almost to himself.

“I did nothing wrong,” She couldn’t help but fire back, “I did everything correctly – even used the ring you left for me in the drawer.”

At that, he stilled. Stilled and stopped breathing entirely.

Then, as if talking to someone who’d sustained a head injury, he said, “I didn’t leave you a ring. I left you my house seal, solid gold, of course, but no ring.” He went on to describe where he’d left it – the top drawer beside her bed – but she already knew.

The conclusion settled in her stomach like a stone. Another feeling, one she didn’t let herself scrutinise, unfurled within her.

“Someone didn’t want me to summon you.”

“Close. Someone wanted you to think I wouldn’t come.”

A question hung in the air, so loud neither could bring themselves to give it voice.

Would you have come, Prince Wrath? Would you have come to my aid when I needed you most? When I needed to know you were alright?

Keeping those treacherous thoughts under lock and key, she focused on another facet of the curious mystery.

“Who would it benefit? And who would’ve known what to switch – the house was warded, was it not?”

Silence from her princely counterpart.  

“Would the wards collapse with your ‘death’?”

The look on his face told her all she needed to know. Someone had stolen into the house and replaced the seal with a ring to deliberately throw off their efforts. Which meant-

He hadn’t abandoned her at all. Given her the cold shoulder, yes, when he believed she’d forgotten all about him.

What a hellish mess this all was.

From that moment on, the demon and the witch had become begrudging allies once more. Wrath had been furious one of his brothers would dare interfere with his affairs, and she needed an ally, desperately. While it rubbed against her pride to accept help, she knew it would’ve been foolish to refuse. She would be a vengeful queen, but even queens needed council.

Their alliance had turned to friendship, then burst into royal flames as they look the leap to lovers. In the candlelight of a stolen moment, Wrath had held her with more care than she’d known possible. Still Wrath, still echoing that immense power of his, but softer, somehow. Not gentle, not truly, but tender. It was not love, but it was fire and anger and care all pieced together in a ball of desire.  

Which led her to that moment, as she stole away from her husband’s masquerade ball. She had stayed long enough, and the party celebrated nothing of importance. Rather a show of unity between her and Pride, a display of wealth and power.

As she left the throne room she realised she had no idea where her prince had gone. Back to his rooms? No, they avoided meeting there. Being caught together in casual rooms could be explained away as strategic briefings, but being caught in the bedroom of her husband’s brother... did not leave for much escape room.

Just as she was about to curse his name, a snake slithered around her ankle, causing her to start. Was that Wrath’s laugh, she heard? Looking to her feet, the snake stared back up at her, its golden eyes winking in the candlelight of the hallway.

Of course. Wrath and his dramatics.  

The snake made its way down the hallway, keeping close to the wall to be inconspicuous. It led her to an offshoot of the main hallway, then came to a halt at the final door. The serpent dissolved into golden sparks as they reached their destination. She knocked quietly before letting herself in.

Wrath lay stretched out across a dark velvet lounge, watching her entrance. His mask dangled lazily from his fingers, the ribbon used to tie it brushing across the floor. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway, a toned chest peeking out from the fabric.

Deadly, dangerously beautiful.

And hers.

“You look exquisite,” He strode across the room before taking her in his arms. His hands quickly untied her mask before tossing it to the floor with haste. He took in her form for a moment, then tilted his face down to capture her lips with his own.

No matter how many moments they stole, it was never enough.

His kiss was liquid fire igniting the flame of her desire. One hand rested against her back, with the other cupping her face. She gasped against his mouth, revelling in how desperately hard his body felt against hers. Greedy hands slipped up his chest to unbutton the rest of his shirt. Pulling the material away, Emilia broke the kiss for a single second to gaze at her lover.

Smooth, tanned skin met her eyes, followed by a swift appreciation of the hard strength that lay beneath his trousers. He laughed as he caught her gaze, knowing exactly what she was admiring.

He kissed her again, this time grabbing the backs of her thighs and lifting her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist. The taste of him- Taste was her speciality, but there were no words to describe how perfectly Wrath kissed her.

After too long and never long enough, the lovers parted for breath. He still held her against his chest. In this position, she was the perfect height to rest her head in the crook of his neck. Their breathing echoed through the room in perfect harmony.

She could feel every rise and fall of his powerful, tattooed chest. Such lethal power contained within his body, yet he held her with all the tenderness the world could offer.

“You know,” He mused, “We never got to dance.”

“Are you asking?” A sly smile in his direction.

“Yes. Witch, will you dance with me.” He said witch the way men said love. She looked down at him, grinning.

“No. I can’t dance.”

He laughed. Such a bright sound for one bathed in darkness.

“Liar.”

“Fine. I don’t dance, because I’m awful at it.”

A teasing hand ran down her back.

“I’ll teach you.” At her raised brows, he continued with, “A queen must use every skill in her arsenal.”

Lowering her to the ground, he held out his hands for her to grasp.

“Place your right hand in mine, and left against my shoulder.” Even through the fabric of his shirt, she could feel the heat roaring off him. When she did as he instructed, he pulled their bodies together until not even an inch separated them. Emilia was fairly certain this wasn’t part of the dance, but she wasn’t going to interrupt. She quite liked this position, pressed against the prince of Wrath, his breath rustling her hair. His hand settled against her spine.

“This next bit is the most important, do you hear? It is crucial even that beginners like yourself get this right.” He teased, and she scowled back at him, though they both knew it was merely in jest.

“Tilt your chin up so you can gaze adoringly into my eyes.” He grinned down her scowl. “I want you to focus on how handsome I am, how talented, and forget everything else. Except how much you want to kiss me.”

She couldn’t help herself, she laughed. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Perhaps.” His voice turned low and seductive as his hand slid down her spine, drawing her a little closer. “But you’re waltzing like a goddess now.” As he spoke, they started to move. Slowly, he stepped back and followed. To the side, and she followed again. On and on, their little box pattern continued, until Wrath picked up the paced and spun her around.

A gasp left her lips at the movement, but before she could overthink and stumble, he caught her once more with a smile.

“Who are you, and what have you done with the moodiest prince of Hell?”

He shook his head at her words, huffing a laugh as he did. She felt the truth bloom in his chest, he didn’t have to say it. These borrowed moments, these secret trysts... it was happiness, rare as it was, that fluttered between them. They both knew it couldn’t last, but for now, it was real. In that moment, it was all that mattered.

“Teasing witch,” He murmured, and kissed her. Kissed her as if they were not members of two rival houses, as if she was not an unwilling wife to his bastardly brother, as if there were not a chasm of reasons to keep them apart. Tomorrow would bring hellfire, and perhaps regret, but tonight was theirs.

They kissed until night dwindled away into day, and their secret was no longer safe. With the promise of “soon” and an unspoken “I miss you”, Wrath kissed her once more before exiting her side.

The queen of Hell picked up her mask from where it had been tossed across the floor, and stood still for a moment, taking a deep breath. The moment had passed, and she was no longer just Emilia, a powerhouse in her own right, and friend and lover of Wrath’s.

She was the Wicked Kingdom’s vengeful queen, and she would find her happiness once more, or burn the world trying.

-

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[venusdeus]

Court of Kings - Chapter 1

Summary: Sent to a neighboring kingdom to secure an alliance, forced to give up your dreams and ambitions, disregarded as a means to an end. You however have no desire to fulfil their wishes. And neither does Oikawa.

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x female reader

Genre: Fluff, comedy, angst, royalty au, arranged marriage au, enemies to lovers au (more like enemies to allies to friends to lovers), eventual smut?

Word count: 2700+

Warnings: All the characters are adults unless specified. This chapter is sfw. Minors do not interact.

Notes: Part 1 of a long series I’m planning to write. This is my first fic in this blog so I would greatly appreciate comments, follows and feedback!

Read Prologue first <...> Chapter 2

August 5th

The first messengers arrived when you were having afternoon tea with your literature instructor in the gardens of your summer residence, as your brother was practicing his sword skills not too far. A maid sent by your mother brought you the news of their negotiation a few hours later, accompanied by some of the strawberry macarons you loved so much.  

If it were up to you, you would refuse such a ridiculous offer even before it was brought to your attention. Now that they had a male heir to the throne however, there was no use of a girl that had no claim to become the future ruler, other than being sent to create diplomatic relations now that you were over twenty summers.

“Where do you think they are from?” your brother asked as he tried to dust off his clothes, quite tired from following the orders of his practice partner all day long.

“I wouldn’t know, I didn’t see any flags with them.” you continued as he looked disappointed “But they were wearing blue, so at least we know it's not from the south.”

He nodded; his eyes wide with worry “I am glad they are not sending you there.”

“No one is sending me anywhere yet Hiro.” you answered quite annoyed, turning your head sharply to glare at the boy.

It was not his fault per see but him being recognized as the heir has left you in an awkward situation for the past twelve years. You loved your brother dearly, unlike the distant relationship you had with your parents. It was not because you had the ambition to rule the kingdom either. Of course, it was unfair as you were the firstborn, and if not for what was between your legs, you would also have been the one to inherit the crown.

Even if that was so, you simply did not find it in yourself to become a leader. You, however, did wish to be able to shape your own future. One that did not involve fulfilling the selfish wishes of others.

“It would be awfully lonely without you.” he sighed, instantly making you feel guilty for sounding a little bit too harsh.

Hiro looked incredibly small for his age, standing there with his shoulders slouched, fingers flicking, a skinny and sickly kid since the day he was born. He took after your father with his dark hair and almost pitch-black eyes, but with your mother's facial features, a contrast to your own looks that bore no resemblance to any of them, another reason for your alienation from the rest of the family.

“And it would be awfully quiet without you.” you teased “Maybe then I would be able to read in peace.”

Several footsteps coming behind you silenced you both before Hiro could retort, cutting the joyful air and replacing it with a heavy feeling.

Your mother was a beautiful woman that much was true, but in a different way to that of her kids. The Queen had extremely sharp features and her painted lips always supported a displeased frown. She acted as her title suggested, prim and proper, she fit her role perfectly.

Renowned for her charm when she was younger, she did not lose much to the ages if not for the wrinkles next to her keen eyes and the white threads on her hair. Likewise, she was as smart as she was alluring. Coming from a family that lost their wealth a long time ago even though they still supported titles, no one would even dream of her being second to the sole ruler of their beloved country. She was a success-driven woman, which made her a threat in the eyes of many in the court, thus she was not given the right to make a decision when it came to the education of the heirs she produced. Although affectionate towards her kids first, she had no say on the time she had with them, causing their family ties to weaken, and mostly spent her time with foreign ambassadors. A responsibility entrusted upon her by her husband.

“I see you received my message.” she declared not looking at you directly “We will talk more about this after our guests leave. For now, I want both of you to go to your rooms and stay there until dinner.”

You could sense the irritation in her voice. It was not for her kids, however, as you could see the dark circles under her eyes, a sign of her losing sleep for the past few days.

“Won’t we meet our guests?” Hiro questioned before you could.

“It is not needed as they are only messengers.” the Queen answered shortly before continuing her walk towards the main hall, her maids trailing behind. “I will see you two in an hour.”

Leaving your brother behind, you decided to head down towards the observatory. You knew that you would get an earful from your maids later for not changing your garments for the dinner, but your head was filled with too many questions and negative possibilities to care about dresses. It was not as if you did not know that this day would come. It even took longer than expected if all things considered. Most in your position would be engaged before they even stopped using diapers. It was a more political alliance than anything else, decided by the respective kingdoms and the advisors.

You even saw the letters that were exchanged since last year with multiple seals supporting different coat of arms. The council of your father must have declined the offers before this. Not for your sake, at least you didn’t think it was, but for not suiting their taste. It was a big deal for the princess of a country, whether being the heir or not, to marry someone as it reassured the ties you would create.

The only positive thing that happened so far was the fact that you would not be sent to the south. The Southern Kingdom was placed across the sea and was an important trade partner to your own.

It was a wealthy country for sure, but also too grim and the people too wild. Other than the traded goods it wasn’t a traveller-friendly country. They kept to themselves and even though the only thing that separated the two port kingdoms was a narrow sea, they had a vastly different culture. These differences resulted in legends and the rumors about the country becoming more and more outrageous over time.

They called their men barbaric, only interested in hunt and the art of war. Their women proclaimed witches, quite beautiful unlike the stereotype, but worshippers of a different God. All just foolish rumors said your history instructor. He was a wise man that travelled a lot when he was younger and according to him these tales were nonsense. Their folk did not originate there but immigrated over a few centuries ago. He taught you that the people of the Southern Kingdom were that of culture and arts. They just did not like intruders. His words didn’t ease your or Hiro’s heart however as you were fed these tales since you were younger.

If you could find a way to escape from this responsibility you would. Yet, since the first time you sensed what was going on you were looking for an answer, just to be disappointed every time.

The dinner was cold and tasteless even though it was made from the best ingredients one could manage to find. “The lady that makes them must hate her occupation with a passion” claimed your brother when you were dismissed “I can’t understand how mother likes it.”

Once again, the King did not join you at the table. It was always the same excuse, politics, responsibilities. But you knew better. You knew why your parents did not share a bed anymore and you could see the looks women of the court gave to your father. It was not because the King was a good-looking man, quite the opposite in fact, but power attracted people.

You were fully grown now and even when you were younger, you knew what these actions indicated. You even had the most unfortunate memory of seeing one of them, who was not much older than you, leaving your father's chamber looking quite flushed. You would have not cared if only the woman did not give you a curtsy while supporting a smirk.

Lady Winna was her real name, daughter of a lord that was close to the King, nicknamed Lady Whore by you. And most of the time, she was the reason your father would skip the meals altogether only to receive a feast in his room later that night. Which was why you knew that you should never hope for a love match. If lucky you could maybe be friends with your future partner.

“She does not hate her job, she hates her life” you replied “Not that it would matter, she will leave soon. I heard she was pregnant with a lord’s child. A married one on top of that.”

Hiro gasped “What if someone were to hear you talking about these rumors” he exclaimed hitting your arm quite forcefully “you could be punished.”

“Don’t act as if you never say such stuff you little bridge troll. I know how you talk behind your instructors.” you mused rubbing the pain off. “And who will punish a princess I ask you? If not for mother or father?”

“Do I need to know what I should punish you for?”

Both you and Hiro jumped at the unexpected voice of the Queen, a gasp leaving your mouths. She was holding a box in her hand and her face was supporting a rare, serene expression.

“Nothing of importance.” replied Hiro quickly “We were just afraid of falling behind our studies.”

The Queen did not seem convinced as her eyes narrowed, but she had a small genuine smile on. “I see. Why don’t you go on ahead and start your nightly studies then? I need to talk to your sister privately in the meantime.”

Hiro let out a snort that he tried to cover with a cough. You are in trouble he mouthed before bowing to your mother and disappearing through the corridor.

“I would like you to know I was just repeating what the ladies in the court were saying. Not that I believe the rumors of course, it is quite indecent.” you tried to explain quickly but the Queen cut you with a shake of her head.

“That is not why I wanted to talk to you dear. It is however quite incident for a lady to talk that way you are right.” she sighed “Why don’t we talk in my study?”

You knew what was coming now, after all you could not remember the last time you had a conversation with your mother alone, the relaxed expression on her face, however, gave you hope. Maybe, you thought, they decided it was not time yet. Or maybe they did not like the offers that came through.

“Close the door, will you?” she asked walking towards the desk that stood before the bookshelves that covered the walls.

“Where are your attendants?” you questioned as you followed her inside “Is there something wrong?”

“I thought you would be more comfortable if it were just the two of us that’s all. I need to show you something.” She answered motioning towards the box she was holding. “It came this morning. For you of course. Go on, open it.”

The box itself was made from heavy oak, painted black with a family crest carved on top of it. The symbol looked familiar enough, but you could not concentrate enough to remember where you knew it from over the heavy beating of your heart. Opening it cautiously you took a sharp breath between your teeth, observing the contents.

Inside stood a tiara that was made from white gems shaped in intricate designs that you have not encountered before and in the middle stood an icy blue diamond so big that you could have sworn it must have cost the yearly earnings of a whole country.

“Not a ring.” You stated matter of factly “A very bold choice for a gift.”

“Indeed. But you cannot expect less from Seijoh.” Your mother replied with a cautious voice, almost as if she was calculating your reaction.

“Seijoh…” the box cluttered on the table as you let go of it abruptly “You are sending me up north? We waged war against them for years! Even before my grandfather! And now you are sending me there?”

You knew the country itself was wealthy enough and that it had a strong military presence. They had many allies within the countries that bordered yours as well.  But they also claimed right on your countries throne by sighting territorial dispute as well as a marriage between the two countries that produced no heir.

Now they were sending you there as a scapegoat. To secure his claim to the throne. And maybe even to theirs. An eye for an eye.

It took another week for your father to send a response and invite the Crown Prince and the King of Seijoh for a short visit before the decision was finalized and another two for them to arrive on the outskirts of your kingdom with their entourage behind.

As you sat in your suite biting your nails and waiting for their arrival, your maids were going in and out with different dresses in their hands looking for your approval. You on the other hand did not have the mental energy to entertain their ideas. It was bad enough that you had to attend a ball given in their honor that very evening, but you also had to be in the throne room soon enough to welcome them into the castle. Not to mention this would be the first time that you were to meet your possible future husband.

You heard of him before of course. How could you not when his reputation preceded him? A very cunning and ambitious young man, yet it was his looks that brought the most gossip. You heard his name whispered among the staff when they did not know you were listening and heard the ladies giggle when they mentioned the time that they spent in their court, with him.

It was enough to leave a sour taste in your mouth. Was it too much to ask that your future partner was a man of intelligence and few words? At least you would know that you could get along with him then. But a sharp and striking Casanova? They had to be jesting. That was the only possible explanation for this mockery.

As if your fathers’ ridiculous behaviors wasn’t enough now you had to entertain another man like him. It was pretty common for monarchs to take on other lovers, but you would not be embarrassed by a man you did not know in your own house, husband or not.

When you finally entered the throne room you could hear the commotion outside caused by non-other than the infamous man that was plaguing your thoughts for the past week. Your mother motioned you to hurry and take your place with a sudden turn of her chin just before the doors opened.

The rumors did not do him justice you thought as he strutted towards you and your family, your breath caught in your throat.

Oikawa Tooru was without a doubt the most beautiful man you ever laid eyes on.

He was beautiful alright.

And with his charming eyes staring straight at your own and his delicate hands placed on his sword, he looked ready to murder.

It might look like a filler episode, but I needed to give background and I love to build anticipation. Sorry not sorry? Reblogs are appreciated! And also this was not edited I posted it right after writing it so if you see any mistake let me know.

Disclaimer:  No portion of this story may be reproduced in any form without permission. I do not own the character of Oikawa Tooru. This is a work of fiction.

TAG LIST: Let me know if you want me to tag you.

@triskoof​ @sassyglassesbunny​ @m-a-r-i-a-s-b-l-o-g

[phantasmagoriaoriginals]

Here There be Monsters: Mage Basic Intros (Part 1)

Hyousa

She/her, Red Mage.

Her history is fairly normal. While her mother died in Hyousa’s early childhood, she was close with her father and lived happily enough even after the loss. She joined the Organization willingly for the sake of making a difference in the world, even mostly unaware of how difficult that would be. Cream was given to her as a Familiar a couple years in. 

Cheerful, energetic, and persistently optimistic, Hyousa is the kind of person who aggressively sees the best in the world and everyone in it. While some people consider her hopelessly naive, her determination can’t be beat. Hyousa is actively, willingly kind to everyone who crosses her path, whether they deserve it or not. She chooses to see the best. 

Her magic is the typical Red— pure power made of her own magical energy. It’s completely suited for physical combat, but somehow, Hyousa manages not to make it violent. She fights to help people!

5′5, 19. Thin, girlish build which nonetheless carries quite a bit of lean muscle. Short, cinnamon brown hair worn mostly slicked back and out of her face, with only a few strands escaping to fall on her forehead. Wide, bright brown eyes, fair skin. She constantly fidgets around. 

Sinclair

She/her, Purple Mage.

After growing up at an orphanage following the death of her parents in an unfortunate accident, Sinclair willingly joined the Organization as a way of making use of her magic. She’d mostly taught it to herself as a way of looking after the orphanage’s children, and once she had access to a real way to improve it, she wanted to learn how to use it properly. 

Sinclair’s personality is best defined as motherly. She’s an incredibly kind, soft person who others feel innately comfortable around. However, she’s also strict on those who do wrong and wants to see people improve, not be coddled. Caretaking is in her nature. She looks after those around her and does her best to keep everyone happy and well. 

Her magic primarily operates around charms imbued with curses and blessings. While she generally prefers to use the blessings to help her allies, when she sets her mind to a curse, it’s deadly. 

5′6, early 30′s. Fat, with a pear-shaped, soft build. Wide through the hips and all-around soft. Black, frizzy hair worn around shoulder-length, with shorter-cut bangs. Black eyes, round glasses, and soft, sweet features. Moderately dark brown skin. 

Livva

She/her, Yellow Mage.

Born with an innate magic known as the “human sealing container”, Livva was highly valued even from childhood. She spent her early years being passed between “homes” and different people who owned her— usually to use her for her magic or to own an expensive prize—, until the Organization took possession of her instead. 

Serious, cold, and disinterested in the world, Livva is the kind of person who rarely shows fondness for anything. She’s seen some of the most selfish sides of humanity, so her worldview is quite corrupted. The things she does are only because she’s forced to, and she has no real attachment or loyalty to anyone or anything. She just exists. 

Her magic, as mentioned above, is sealing-based. A seal on her tongue allowed her to hold “objects” inside of her body and release them at will. These things range from artifacts to spells, to even offensive energy. 

5′10, mid 20′s. Tall, slightly pear-shaped build with notable curves. White, fluffy hair that falls to her shoulders and has considerably more volume towards the ends. Dark brown, somewhat lifeless eyes, fair skin. Posture is always stiff and near-perfect. 

Madeleine

She/her, Orange Mage.

An amnesiac, she lacks any memories from what she assumes to be almost twenty years of life. She only remembers her time with the Organization, and is currently in the process of trying to discover more about her past— including a large, mysterious scar across her chest. However, she doesn’t necessarily want to look too deeply. 

Madeleine is friendly, open, and upbeat. Despite her internal issues, she tries to make life better for herself and the people around her. She’s close friends with Sinclair, likes to use her magic for other people’s enjoyment, and is generally a very kind-hearted sort. However, when it comes to missions, she has a serious, brutal side that comes out. 

Her magic is similar to Sinclair’s but involves food (specifically sweets) instead of handmade charms. Her desserts have a variety of effects and are more useful in a conflict situation than you’d expect. 

5′9, early 30′s. Tall, athletic, curveless build with wide shoulders and strong legs. Dark brown, thigh-length hair worn in thick box braids and a high ponytail. Dark, warm-undertoned skin and sparkling brown eyes. Large, diagonal scar across her chest from collarbone to navel. 

Aurora

She/her, Green Mage.

Born without her left leg from the knee down. It took a while to find her a suitable prosthetic, but after getting a highly functional one and practicing plenty, she’s completely adjusted to it. She’s always lived in the shadow of her older sister, Rosaria, who she both adores and resents thanks to a feeling of having to live up to her success. 

Strict, intense, and serious, Aurora is the picture of ambition and hard work. She’s always felt a need to compensate for her self-perceived weaknesses and feeling of being “second best”. However, her cold exterior hides a warm heart and burning passion. She’s the type to never give up on anyone or anything when she sets her mind to them. 

Aurora’s magic, as Green magic always is, is derived from the world around her. The main way she uses it is to increase her speed, agility, and mobility through absorbed energy from other moving objects. 

5′7, early 20′s. Slim, straight build with long legs and a narrow shape. Long, hip-length, white hair worn loose and straight with bangs and shoulder-length sidelocks. Intense gray eyes with pale lashes. Black and silver, high-tech prosthetic from below the knee down on her left leg. 

Ranisha

She/they, Blue Mage.

The oldest of many siblings, Ranisha had to grow up fast and take on a lot of responsibility. Developing excessive maturity so early gave her a jaded, logical outlook on the world, where she prioritizes what needs to be done instead of what she wants. She joined the Organization for money as well as something to do with herself that felt like success. 

Ranisha is most notably aloof, cold, and efficient. She takes her work very seriously, places her job before any personal desires, and doesn’t make friends easily or well. Seemingly uninterested in anything but what’s assigned to her, many people feel intimidated by her strict nature and harsh standards. She butts heads with Vash quite a bit. 

Her magic turns written symbols into weapons manifested solely from her energy. Ranisha favors guns over bladed weapons, can use anything from small pistols to larger rifles, and her accuracy is near-unmatched.

5′8, early-mid 20′s. Fairly average build with slight curves. Somehow petite despite her height. Black, thick hair styled in a short, natural faux hawk with close-cropped sides. Black eyes, dark, cool-toned skin, and pleasant features that are always set in a stern, neutral expression. 

Katz

He/him, Brown Mage.

While he grew up as a relatively normal Mage, Katz considers getting involved with the Organization to be the worst mistake he ever made. The job is stable and suits his skills well, but the people he has to deal with drive him absolutely insane. He developed a stress-related drinking habit from a young age, which did nothing to help his nasty attitude.

Katz is the kind of person who’s hit his breaking point. He’s an angry, bitter man who’s perpetually exhausted, short-tempered with everyone around him, and a raging alcoholic on top of all of that. While he’s very good at what he does, Katz is the type who most want to stay far away from. His dead-eyed glare is incredibly intimidating. 

His magic focuses on sealing. Specifically, sealing the powers of others. Katz creates items that, when placed on someone’s body, restrain some or all of their magic to whatever extent he crafted them to. 

5′11, mid 30′s. Thicker build that’s on the stockier side of muscular. Reddish taupe-colored hair worn in a short style that falls about to his ears and is often slicked back. Fair skin, dark eyes, and a good amount of stubble on his upper lip, cheeks, and chin. Perpetual scowl. 

Emilio

He/they, Purple Mage.

A lot of Emilio’s life has been spent wishing he was something other than himself. He grew up relatively average, but underwent a fair amount of bullying for being shy and reclusive. When he learned magic, his main goal was to change himself— and he did that completely. He’s always trying to hide from the person he used to be. 

Emilio is best described as a charismatic jokester. Despite being very much a “class clown” type, he exudes so much pleasant, cheerful energy that people can’t help but be drawn to him. However, underneath his sunny disposition is a serious, capable man who wants to give his best to the people close to him... as well as something of a dark side. 

The magic he uses revolves around shapeshifting. Emilio can change his own appearance at will and is known to constantly be doing so. No one is sure what his original appearance is, and Emilio isn’t telling. 

Mid 20′s. Everything about Emilio’s appearance varies. He can change his height, hair color, eye color, features, build, and more with a simple spell, and he does that frequently. He seems to favor taller, more handsome looks, though, and usually retains bright hair and eye colors. 

Vash

He/him, Orange Mage.

Trained in magic from a young age, Vash made it his mission to be as good at it as possible— and gather all the admiration and respect he can. He’s never experienced much in the means of personal hardship, but the standards he’s placed on himself do plenty of damage. He’s been in the organization since he was fifteen, thanks to his family’s choices. 

Short-tempered, viciously ambitious, and high-strung to a fault, the main things in life that drive Vash are gaining the approval of everyone around him and making himself look as impressive as possible. He’s a hot-blooded teenager in every sense of the word, and painfully unaware of his own inexperience and how dangerously reckless he can be. 

Vash’s magic is typical for the Orange kind. He uses elemental powers; in his case, fire. Despite being made of magic, this fire burns just like the real thing and is every bit as destructive and hard to control. 

19, 5′8. Skinny, lanky build with less muscle than you’d expect. Straight, chin-length, black hair usually worn covering one eye. Pale skin, orange eyes, and numerous silver piercings all over his body. Extensive burn scars covering him from his magic going haywire.

Alexander

He/him, Brown Mage.

Born to a prestigious and high-class Mage family, Alexander grew up in the lap of luxury. He was spoiled to a fair extent, but the consequences are fortunately mild. Told from a young age that he’s destined for great things and incredibly capable, Alexander has always felt like he doesn’t have to do much of anything to be successful and loved. 

Alexander is friendly, sociable, polite, and generally pleasant to be around. He’s the kind of charismatic person who draws others to him whether he tries to or not. However, he also has an unfortunate tendency of viewing people as lesser than him and expects things that he shouldn’t more often than not. He’s also worryingly naive. 

The magic he uses relates to forcefields. Alexander can generate and manipulate forcefields out of his magical energy, and uses them for defense as well as offense. Their purposes are quite varied. 

6′1, early 20′s. Tall, broad-shouldered, elegant build. Dark red, wavy hair worn in a short-ish cut and sometimes styled with a low ponytail or pins holding the side back. Dark hazel eyes, handsome features, and fair skin. A perpetually welcoming smile and the posture of a trained nobleman. 

[sugarakis-p2]

Shigaraki's Muse Ch 14

Just two captives chatting, it is loud. It jumps from past to present just because I'm cruel. This Fic story is one of my favorite babies and if you're just reading this chapter doesn't have smut, it's does have plot.

Warning: Mature content with bad words

Chapter 13

Chapter 14: Boom boy

"I want you to talk to me again," Tomura muttered to her in the dim light, both hot and sweating. He brought Ember's hand to his face, using her palm to cover him, it's cooler than the rest of her, and he sighs with contentment.

"You won't like what I have to say. Why can't you be happy with me just being here?" Ember asked, annoyed. "You're more likely to give me what I want when you are happy. You're right. I won't like it. But, I don't want to kill you, and I don't want you to leave or kill yourself. So, let's make a deal. One I will hate," Tomura rasps under her hand. "I don't think we can; we want opposing things."

"I have never been able to stand being around other people. You are an expectation, you're my ally, and you should get whatever you want. I will listen to your three best arguments for letting you go, just once, then you can never bring it up again. If you can convince me, I will let you go. If you can't convince me, then I must be your expectation." He turns his head to see her reaction around her fingers. She is staring at him with suspicion. "You will just tell me I belong to you and keep me here anyway."

"Yes, without a doubt. But I listen; I'll hang onto your every word. Just because I won't be convinced today doesn't mean things won't change over time. I don't see that happening, but that is the only hope I will allow. Three one time arguments then never again." "What if you can't come up with a counterargument other than I belong to you? Then will you let me go?" She asks with little hope. Hope was getting harder to come by here.

"No," he said flatly, already looking annoyed. Ember knew it was because it's the only counterargument that mattered. "What if it's a series of questions? Do I have to do these arguments back to back?" She asks sweetly, dragging her fingers down and over his collarbone. He stops her, grabbing her hand and giving her a dark stare.

"You can't manipulate or trick me; I won't stop you from trying. But I mean it when I say that's the only hope I will allow. I catch you being insincere, trying to escape, breaking the rules; it's the chain."

"Insincere? What lying?" she asks with real confusion.

"Ug, these questions are annoying. Don't be stupid. I know what I said. If it questions you think will lead you to leave, then it's only three of those at one time, in a row. Just say I want one of my arguments. Let's not draw out this bullshit too much longer. I'd rather get back to other things," he gives her a suggestive leer.

"Ok, I agree. It's a deal." She seals the agreement with a kiss. He doesn't hate it. She's actually feeling good for the moment. He says something that chips away at her hope.

"If you have a boy, let's name him Cyrus, a girl. I want it to be Hana." "I like that. My brother's name or your sisters, it will be nice." They fall asleep tangled into each other's limbs.

"Time passed. The honeymoon was never over for Tomura, so we spent a lot of time together when I wasn't being punished. It was a really nice routine for the most part. I didn't mind. He is amazingly sweet when he gets his way. I asked for a way to cook, and he got me a hot plate. I asked to see Loverboy; he placed a camera at the food dish. He started letting me wear comfy clothes again. we played video games like in the old days." She says, smiling to the hot headed teen next to her on the couch.

"Sounds like brainwashing to me," says Bakugou, his crimson eyes burning holes into her. "Without a doubt, but if reform school taught me nothing, it's that you have to take pleasure in the little things." "Sounds like what people who don't take responsibility for their life say. Shit just happens to me, so I make shit sandwiches and plaster a smile on while I eat them. Well, not me. I'm going to find a way out." He shouts at her. She sighs, he's been nothing but a loud pain in the ass since they met. He asked how she ended up here and now he's yelling at her.

"Your funny; you also sound like an asshole, the kind they loved in reform school," she gives him a knowing wink and a click of the tongue. She turns back to her game while he huffs, getting more annoyed by the second. "Ok, how many questions do you have left?" He asks with his arms crossed. "One."

"So, did you use that as an argument, can't be healthy having it in a bunker." He pointed at her stomach. "You mean the baby. You can call it a zygote but quit pointing at me awkwardly. Yes, it didn't go well. That's why I've saved the other." "I see," Bakugou gets up to stare at the door lock some more while Ember plays an RPG. "When we met that night, you had the chain on, why?" He yells at her while staring at the thumb lock. More shouting, she thinks.

"It's a long story."

"Well, we have nothing but time, so spit it out! Better yet, tell me everything, highlight the important shit until we meet." Sighing, she quits her game and turns on the couch to look at him. He's giving her a pissed-off look; he always looks pissed off. He reminds her of a louder version of Tomura, part of her wonders if this is how he would have turned out in another universe. If that happened, she would've used the knife on Tomura. She hates the little fuck nut who must still have his parents. It's the only way she can imagine nobody drowned him in a tub. At first, she wasn't sure, but she is now. Tomura placed him here on purpose to break her.

"Ask nicely," she replies.

"What! Look, if you tell me everything, maybe I can help you come up with an argument." She gives him a dirty look and turns her back on him. Like Tomura, when Ember gives them the silent treatment, they give in to basic niceties.

"Ahhhhh, fine! Please, tell me everything, highlight the important shit until we meet, so I can help you come up with an argument." "See, was that so hard?" She gives him a sweet smile. She sighs again, not wanting to tell him her participation in his capture. She gives him a look of pity. "Are you looking down on me?" he asked vehemently.

"It's a good thing you have pretty eyes. I'm a sucker for pretty eyes."

Chapter 15

[literaryfic]

Chapters: 1/?
 Fandom: 빈센조 | Vincenzo (TV) 
Rating: Explicit
 Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong/Hong Cha Young
Characters: Hong Cha Young, Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Italian Mafia, (i know nothing about the mafia so this will be very inaccurate!!!), basically vincenzo & cha-young being mafia bosses in italy


Summary: When Vincenzo Cassano came back to Italy, no one expected to see someone by his side. Or how Cha-young and Vincenzo became the head of the Cassano family. a mafia couple au inspired by a discussion with @ourgalaxybangtan @ghostrights & @whovie-reloaded

  Vincenzo had been handling most of the family business since their adoptive father’s health had started to decline. As the consigliere of the Cassano family, he was Fabio’s most trusted man, his advisor, his lawyer but also his second-in-command.

It hadn’t been easy, all these years, to climb the ladder. He wasn’t a native, he wasn’t blood, and so not many people had welcomed him at first. That’s why he had to become ruthless, so that no one could deny his authority or even dare to try. He had killed and tortured many men, broken their minds and their bones, burned their flesh and cut off their limbs, ashes and screams trailing behind him. If he wasn’t proud of the blood on his hands, he was at least proud of his work. All the hours he’d spent training, fighting, preparing, scheming, studying, all his efforts to erase Park Joo-hyung from the face of earth had paid off. The scared, weak little kid was gone, buried with all his other victims. ‘An eye for an eye, and then some’, Vincenzo lived by that, and he would stop at nothing except killing the innocent. There was no doubt he was the best at what he did and anyone who did not respect him feared him enough to not threaten him. His success was the Cassano family’s success, yet he knew that members of his own clan would not hesitate to have him killed if they could. Two clear factions had formed in the past five years, those who supported Vincenzo as the next head of the family, and those who supported Paolo, his brother. Paolo and Vincenzo had never gotten along, and Paolo’s inferiority complex and jealousy grew deeper every time his older brother had to clean up after one of his rushed job. Paolo had a particular taste for violence. Whereas Vincenzo killed and tortured because he had to, Paolo got a kick out of hurting others, be it children, women or elders. He loved to assert his dominance, to feel almighty. Vincenzo didn’t think himself much better than him, (regardless of the reasons behind his murders, he’d probably killed way more than him), but he wanted Paolo to be punished for his sins. It was only a matter of time before some influential family members whispered plans of assassination and of ‘restoring the rightful heir’ into his ear. Paolo was an angry, frustrated man who wasn’t particularly good at his job, an easy puppet to control. He’d been watching them carefully but he knew that as long as his father was alive, no one would dare to touch him. Back then he had thought he would take care of them when it came to it, become the head of his family, and continue to rule the underworld. Then, the incident happened and everything changed. He hadn’t been able to sleep for weeks, his victims’ screams haunting his dreams. He started avoiding mirrors, his reflection taunting him. He barely ate anymore, and Fabio had reminded him to get a grip. So he had done just that. He drank himself to sleep or took sleeping pills, and he went on. He knew, however, that he could not go on like this much longer. He had to get out before he buried himself next to Park Joo-hyung and all the others whose lives he’d taken. He’d started to plan his escape secretly. He would wait until his father died, staying loyal to him as long as he was alive. When the time came, he knew Paolo would try to kill him. The power struggle between them would start as soon as the head of the family would die, but instead of destroying his opponents, Vincenzo would seize the opportunity to leave. He would go back to South Korea, get the gold and leave to an island, where he would spend the rest of his days. The death of his previous Chinese client was perfect timing. As expected, Fabio, his boss and adoptive father, had named him the next head of the family in his will. It came to no surprise to most members, but murmurs spread quickly, “Can you imagine? A foreigner, as the head of our family? What has the world become?”. After wrapping things up in Italy, Vincenzo promised himself to never return, throwing away the key to the graveyard of his sins. …. There’s no going back from this, he thinks. Vincenzo is still holding Cha-young’s face, unable to look away from her lips, still wet from the kiss. Her pink cheeks, her smeared lipstick, the freckles under her fondation. Her. Hong Cha-young. His heart is soaring in his chest, all the emotions he had desperately tried to silence erupting all at once. There was no point in denying it, he had fallen in love with her. All he could do now was break his own heart, hoping it would heal. …. He realises he can’t live without her after she gets injured. They’re trying to get more information on Jang Han-seok’s paper company, and this time they’re trying to prove that some of the transactions made to European bank accounts were bribes. They’re breaking into none other than the Minister of Economy and Finance, Cha Do-won’s house. Miri had made sure to deactivate the security system and cameras, and Vincenzo was in charge of securing the place while Cha-young searched for the secret ledger the Minister kept hidden in his office. Cha Do-won was making a speech right now, and they had assumed most of his personal security would be with him. Vincenzo had quickly incapacitated the few men around the house and Cha-young looked for the ledger. After a few minutes, she found a hidden drawer in his desk. There it was, a thick documents labelled 'Accounts’. Subtlety wasn’t one of his strong points, apparently. They were about to leave when suddenly, a dozen men started to raid the place. Vincenzo fought them off as best as he could, and he was grateful that Mr. Lee barged in to help. They thought they had them all beat, and so Vincenzo made a mistake. He turned his back to the door to look for Cha-young, who he thought was behind him. “Vincenzo!”, he heard her shout his name. He sees her across the room, about to get struck by a man. He rushes to her and knocks him out quick enough. “Oh my God”, she says, “Did you see that? I almost died! He had a knife as well, and I dodged it, and then I ran—”. She keeps rambling while they get out of the house and into their car, clearly in shock. She’s getting paler as time passes, and he only notices the blood that pooled on the seat when she tries to get out of the car. She was stabbed, but the shock and adrenaline had prevented her from feeling any pain. “Oh”, she says, looking down at her wound. Vincenzo jumps out of his seat and rips the bottom half of the T-Shirt he’s wearing. “I don’t think now’s the time for that, Darling.” Even in a life-threatening situation, Cha-young is joking around. Vincenzo’s mind stops, he feels paralysed by fear, the fear of losing her, of her dying in his car, because of him. He pushes those thoughts away as he holds the fabric to her wound. “Hold this, as hard as you can.” The rest of the car ride to the hospital is a blur of running red lights, speeding in between traffic and repeating “Hong Cha-young, stay with me.” Vincenzo had faced death everyday for the last 20 years. He had killed, had seen people kill and had almost died countless of time. “There’s no limit to fear”, he’d once said to Jang Han-seok’s informant. Only now, waiting for Cha-young’s surgery to be over, does he understand what those words truly mean. During 6 hours, Vincenzo pleads and begs God, the devil, anyone willing to listen (Don’t take her. Everyone but her). He makes empty promises (I’ll do anything. I’ll stop hurting others, I’ll disappear from her life) and meaningless threats (Don’t you dare take her. I’ll kill you, too). In the end he doesn’t know who answers his prayers, and what promises seals the deal, but Cha-young wakes up and he doesn’t care. He holds her hand, stays by her side, and vows to never leave her. He starts to plan for an escape route shortly after that. In case they can’t stay in South Korea and need to take off. First, he thinks of Malta, or another island. But they would need to go somewhere they have allies, somewhere with an easy access to emergency money and resources. Italy. He contacts Luca and sets everything up, a two bed-room apartment, two bank accounts, and everything they could ever need like cash, some guns, and a car. “Consigliere, will there be another person with you?”, Luca asks. “Hopefully it won’t come to that”, he avoids the question. He knows he promised not to come back, but some promises need to be broken out of necessity. He needed to make Cha-young was safe, at all cost. His brother’s betrayal had made it easier. He’d been caught in the crossfire of their fight against Babel, killed by Choi Myung-hee in order to frame Vincenzo. But they had proved his innocence, and sent back his corpse in Milan. After Fabio’s death, Paolo hadn’t been the best replacement, and after he was killed in South Korea, they’d put in charge one of their cousins who had neither Fabio’s experience, nor Vincenzo’s mastermind. The family was in a crisis, which didn’t go unnoticed by their rivals. Soon, business started to slow down, their clients stolen by the competition and their allies started to switch teams. Money ran low. For that reason, Vincenzo didn’t run into much opposition when he came back. Most members and people in their business thought he had killed Paolo after he’d unreasonably followed him to South Korea and tried to finish him. Paolo only left disappointment and resentment behind him, and so no one missed him much. What they had not expected, however, was for Vincenzo Cassano to come back with someone.

[cafeinthemoon]

From the Human Heart - Chapter III

Chapter: 3/4

Wordcount: 2905

Title: The Lamb and the Knife

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna X reader

Previous chapters

1 . 2

Symbols: ⭕ . ➕ . 💛 . ▶️▶️

Warning (s): Mental breakdown, mental instability (one occurrence in the beginning of the chapter)

N. A.: I confess I was a bit afraid that this chapter ended up too sad or depressing during reader's return to the village, because what she sees there is something that could break anyone's spirit, and with her things are not different. However this story has a happy ending, so I guess I can make up for it 😅 Also, I was planning to finish the story in this chapter, but the text ended up being too long, so I had to add a fourth chapter. I usually avoid establishing a number of chapters in my wips because they always get longer than I plan, but this one should be a short story (guess I failed in this smh)

A shiver ran all over your body and woke you up in an instant.

You didn’t open your eyes yet, but you knew you were lying on something cold, having your cloak to protect you from the chilling breeze of the morning. Morning? Something was telling you that it was morning already. Well, in that case… when did you fall asleep? What happened to you while you were not awake?

The rustling noise of the leaves was heard when you moved on your spot, your right arm aching after spending a long time in the same position. You opened your eyes at last and found a gray, autumnal day around you, the fainting light barely breaking through the dense top of the trees. All you could see was brown, red and yellow, as expected. Fortunately, winter hasn’t reached you yet.

That was strange, to be honest. Why would you think you’ve spent more than one night in that place, long enough to not see the change of seasons?

You sat on the forest’s ground and checked your own state. Everything was in its place: your dress, with the slit in the cleavage made by the King of Curses; the cut in your cloak’s stripe was still there, but the stripe was tied up again around your neck, a bit tighter; your empty bag was on the ground, serving as a pillow in that wild, improvised bed. Was it you that arranged things this way? Was it him? You didn’t know, and you didn’t think that finding out the truth would bring you any comfort.

In an urge to make sure you were alright, you opened your cleavage and checked your skin in the spot touched by Sukuna to seal the pact. There was no stain, no wound, no mark there; you weren’t feeling pain, burning or ache. Nothing changed in it. Of course not, you old yourself: what he did was an enchantment to change your soul, not your body. Any change that could come from it would not be visible to the eye.

With effort, you took your bag and stood up. You shook the leaves and tugs off your dress and cloak and took a second look at your surroundings. That was the same clearing in which you met Sukuna, and you were lying among the roots of the same tree you stopped at to read the sentences of the ritual.

The clearing didn’t seem so large and mysterious now that you were seeing it under the day light. It was silent, unlike the moment when you found it, full of sounds of night birds and small predators rushing their paws through the leaves, out of your sight. All that life was now gone, as if it has never existed.

A blow of cold wind twirled and passed by you before you could see where it came from, carrying leaves and dust with it. You took it was a sign to leave, as if it was saying to you that there was nothing there but death and oblivion. You protected your eyes and once the column of dust moved away, you ran out of that place.

You didn’t know how you managed to run through the same way that brought you to that cursed forest without ending up breathless, aching and out of your mind. Your feet were carried down through its declined territory, full of traps and roots, not stumbling in a single one of them, nor your clothing were ripped or got stuck while you ran.

To you, you’ve been running forever: the more you moved forward, the more the scenario around you looked the same. Was it part of the enchantment or were you just tired, eager to return to your village and see the results of the treaty?

You relied on this latter and continued to move.

***

The village, seen from the high spot of the hill, was the same since you left it. Not that you should expect something else – you were changed, nor your old home. Besides, you couldn’t have left for so long. But it felt like years in your heart, and the night before landed as a dream in your memory now. You adjusted the hood upon your head and tightened your grip around your cloak: the cold breeze ran free without the trees to obstruct it and you wanted to protect yourself; and, despite your trust in the results of the enchantment, you still had no ways to know exactly who were going to see you or not, so that you didn’t want to expose yourself before you had the chance to explore the territory.

Well, when you were reaching the lowest spot of the hill you were left with minimal choices regarding this.

A commotion was happening at the village’s entry, not so far from the place you where standing: a group of people stared with desperation to two or three men who you recognized as members of the Jujutsu council, the ones your father used to refer as his closest allies among them; these men were trying, with great effort, to contain a man who screamed incomprehensible words in a harsh, animalistic voice and scaring the villagers. The man was dressed in the same traditional clothing of the sorcerers, but all the noble aspect of it was gone, replaced with rips and blood as if its owner was kept locked inside a cage and tried everything in his reach to escape it, fighting with people and weapons.

Your blood ran cold in your veins when you recognized the insane man as your father.

After that, it was like your ears were uncovered and you started to understand what he and the other men were saying. They were arguing under a case of thievery: a treasure has vanished from the Jujutsu collection at your father’s house; the masters were convinced that the responsible for the crime was now far away from the village and must have been a clever Jujutsu sorcerer since they managed to deceive all of them, including your father; however, they were confused by the story your father was telling.

Between one growl and another, this was what you could understand from his speech.

- I know exactly who did this! My daughter did this! My own daughter! And I will hunt her till the end of the world!

His own daughter. You.

Your feet stepped back in an unconscious urge to run, but somehow you stood to listen to the rest. You immediately understood the agitation among the Jujutsu masters: the treasure that disappeared was the flower, without which they could not stand a chance against its true owner. Without the jewel, all the lies told by them and their leader were going to be brought to the surface and the whole village was going to pay for their dishonesty.

But none of this has hit you like the realization that your father was talking about you, that he still remembered about you and was willing to come after you to recover the jewel.

And that the situation was not the same to anyone among the people around him.

- Please, enough with this nonsense, master y/sn! – one of the sorcerers was saying, struggling to hold the furious man by his arm.

- Enough with this! – a second man shouted with less patience – You have no daughter! You’ve never had!

Yes, it wasn’t that surprising that the elders couldn’t see you – they never hid their distaste towards you, the greatest obstacle to their ascension in your Jujutsu society. But you didn’t take too long to notice that they weren’t the only ones who have forgotten about you: the entire village has, or at least all the people who were at your sight, some of them known to you for years. Some of them you yourself used to love and respect, and have trusted with your life in the worst moments of your relationship with your father – people you could swear to love you back.

Could it be that you, known by your connection with the most important sorcerer of the village, was an unpleasant presence to them as much as your father must have been? Could it be that they only tolerated you because of him?

A tear rolled down your left cheek, dried by the cold wind that passed at that moment, strong enough to take off the hood of your head. You still weren’t sure of what was more painful: to realize that your father was the only one who remembered you or to see that not even the people you liked were able to reciprocate you just enough to not forget you after an enchantment.

Something died inside you while you saw that. So you just put your hood back and turned your back on your old home, restarting your way up the hill again and hurrying up before your father noticed your presence.

***

It wouldn’t make a great difference if you decided to stay in that forest if the next night reached you there, for you had nowhere to come back as much as you had no place to go to. You were no longer on a hurry: running up that hill twice in so little time has taken the remaining energy in your body and your spirit, so you started walking; if you were passing by the same paths you’ve crossed before, you didn’t know and didn’t care.

To say you were walking was too much. Your legs were shaking, and your numb feet were stumbling even before reaching the obstacles; your hands were doing their best to hold on to the branches and any other support they were able to find, since you couldn’t count on your eyes to guide you: you hadn’t go blind, but you weren’t seeing anything in your way. Your attention was all in what you just witnessed, not in what you had in front of you.

It was as if you just died and had the opportunity to come back to see how the people you knew were dealing with your absence. If you were honest to yourself, you would have already accepted that what you saw wasn’t unexpected at all; still, it wasn’t something that you could completely understand until it happened to you.

At some dense spot of the grove you stopped, despite not having any hopes of finding some rest. You held tight on a low branch to not fall of exhaustion and concentrated on your breath. It was when you noticed you didn’t sense the expected harshness of wood while touching its surface.

You looked at your hand and screamed – your skin, exposed until your fist, was blue. Blue, but not just as a way to say it was cold: it was indeed blue, as a frozen lake reflecting the winter sky. You stepped back as if that was the hand of a stranger, but it followed you and obeyed all your commands, not letting any space for doubts; it belonged to you. You turned it to see its back and noticed variations in the blue, stains of a darker shade, and saw that your nails were now indigo, all of them in a sharp shape, just like…

Just like Sukuna’s nails. A curse’s nails.

You gasped at the memory of his warning. This was what supposed to happen in case you didn’t accept the result of the enchantment. You looked again at your palms and saw no cut nor wound that the branches could cause to a human’s delicate skin – yours were intact, as expected from a resistant curse’s body part. You rolled up your dress’ sleeves to see if your arms were blue as well and observed in horror as the slow transformation reached them.

You adjusted the sleeves and stopped looking. There was no use in desperation. You adjusted the cloak around you and crossed your arms around yourself, accepting the punishment.

- For someone who was so determined just one day before, you do not seem so happy now… child.

His voice grew from the depths of the forest and reached you as if it vibrated by its own will, shaking every nerve you had in you, waking you up to the darkness of your new reality.

You turned to find the King of Curses in the middle of the clearing, just like the first time you’ve met, but now the day was still there above you, with no sign of the red shadows of the summoning. That could only mean one thing: he hasn’t left after the treaty; instead, he remained in those lands, perhaps observing you while you were unconscious or waiting for the next events in the village to take place.

Having him witnessing your downfall in all its bitter details disgusted you in a way you didn’t think to be possible. Still, you found strength to give him a verbal response.

- Haven’t you had enough fun by now? – and after a gasp – Why are you still here?

Sukuna shrugged, not even a little upset by your hostile reception.

- I was just passing by and happened to meet you again – he raised an eyebrow –I am surprised to see that you are still here, to be honest. I thought you have left these lands yesterday. This is the reason why you wanted the enchantment, is not it?

Before you could formulate an answer, he approached and lowered his four eyes to your hands; you clenched your fists and tried to hide them behind your back as a last attempt to save your dignity, but your move was ignored by him, who passed his hands around you and brought yours to his sight, examining their skin with simulated preoccupation. You gave up on any attempt to pull them back: though there was no harshness in the way he was holding them, you knew he had enough strength to break them in such case, or cut them off with the same easiness he has cut the stripe of your cloak or the lock of your hair.

- So it is happening already? – he frowned while caressing them with his thumbs, speaking more to himself than to you – So soon…

- Soon?! – you spat the word – Are you telling me you deceived me?!

Sukuna’s gaze turned to you in surprise at this accusation.

- What do you mean, brat?

- I gave you back the jewel my father stole from you and didn't ask for anything near its price in return, and yet look at me now!

- You knew that I was going to… that this was going to happen to me anyway… is this what you’re telling me, right?

- Hm?

His carefree manners were making you more and more furious and desperate.

- What did I do for you to deceive me like this?!

- Who said I deceived you? – he sighed – I thought you were smarter than this, dear. I was honest with you in our whole treaty. The seal was established according to the rules and the enchantment worked as well. Otherwise you would not have noticed any difference or, in a worst hypothesis, you would have died in the process. Well, not even I would be here in such case. If I broke the rules, I would be punished. You must know that.

You fell silent. That was true: in the Jujutsu world, if two individuals established a pact, both of them were under the obligation to respect the rules of the said pact, otherwise they would be punished – with death in the case of a human and with exorcism in the case of a curse. Still, you were convinced that something was wrong with your own deal.

- It cannot be…

You felt your eyes burning, full with tears that you weren’t able to contain. The weight of what you have done has reached you at last, and from it you couldn’t escape. But were you capable of carrying it? You doubted that.

You felt his hand wiping the tears of your cheek.

- Shhh… No more whining, dear – he lifted your chin to make you meet his gaze – Now, tell me what is going on... What is it that is upsetting you so much regarding the enchantment?

You were impatient, of course, but didn't offer any resistance. You spoke all at once before your voice could crack in a new burst of desperation.

- I came back to the village and found out that the only person who was able to see me was my father. No one else remembers me. And this situation made him insane… – you sobbed – Tell me, how is this possible?!

He giggled and assumed the tone of a Jujutsu teacher.

- You want me to confirm what you are not willing to tell yourself even in thoughts? Alright. I think I can do this for you. You know the rules as well as I do. If someone does not love you, they will forget about your existence. If they do, they will remember you, whether they are the only one in this case or not – and then, he had nothing for you now besides the logical conclusion of the case – So, if your father is the only one who can see you now… He must be the only one who loves you.