#the problem with forming a bond is that it softens people in a way

[egginfroggin]

(Tags from this reblog) (so, so late in responding to these, ouf)

Yeah, it is a horrible time for everyone!

(This got super long, so full rant is under the cut)

Ingo was raised to believe that his powers, like Emmet's, were a gift from one of the Dragons.

He's has been under the impression that his powers -- while unusually strong -- should be able to be controlled, and believes that he is at fault for his own lack of control.

In actuality, bonds are needed to temper the uncontrolled ice that Kyurem cursed him with at birth. The powers grew with age, and unfortunately, Ingo was cut off from the very thing he needed to have any hope of controlling them.

On Kyurem's side of things, however, it sought to spread the same agony of isolation that it felt to the humans that scorn it. Its curses, throughout the ages, always end in tragedy -- the cursed child is either killed, or goes mad and winds up dead by force or by choice.

Ingo is the first cursed child it has ever met, and it was intrigued by him. Here's this isolated, lost soul, deprived of the warmth all children should have, and yet he isn't mad. He's more sad, than anything, and desperate to keep his twin and kingdom safe.

So, curiously, it shares the secret of controlling its powers -- the warmth of bonds -- and forms a connection with Ingo. Ingo gets some control over his "gift," and Kyurem gets a bond for the first time in centuries, if not the first time ever.

So they both get solace and find a level of understanding in each other, and then things go wrong, and Emmet finds Ingo. Cue interaction and separation (may have dropped him down a chasm, oops), and Ingo's emotions becoming once again volatile and full of guilt.

Kyurem chooses arguably the worst time to confess that it cursed Ingo, because Ingo is already full of guilt and self-hatred for hurting Emmet again, and the Kyurem basically tells him that he was never meant to control himself.

Ingo was, as per Kyurem's interference, essentially born to sow misery in his family. Kyurem, when it cursed him, wanted him to be miserable, and to spread that cold hatred to those around him, because Kyurem couldn't do that itself.

Control wasn't ever anything Ingo was meant to have.

Needless to say, the abrupt realization that, frankly, none of this is Ingo's fault simultaneously lifted an enormous weight from his shoulders and incited the worst, most vicious wrath Kyurem has ever been on the receiving end of.

I remember mentioning that bonds need to be reciprocated and upheld. The bond between Ingo and Emmet is all but broken, and while Emmet keeps offering his end, Ingo never picks it up and ties it to his own, completing the connection.

Ingo breaks their bond just about immediately, which leaves them both worse off than they were before, because Kyurem can now properly mourn its isolation, and Ingo properly embraces his own (symbolized by his eyes adopting a sulfur tone and his skin turning pallid, almost gray, visually matching with Kyurem).

So... yeah, betrayal is a good word for it. Ingo has been trusting Kyurem and eagerly accepting its tutorship in the hopes of bettering himself, and then he finds out that... basically, it was this or death, and was always meant to be death.

Everything about Ingo's existence at that point in the fic is a happy (read as: miserable) accident set in place by Kyurem.

And Kyurem didn't even tell him, didn't even think to tell him, until when? When he tells it that he almost killed his twin again? When he's a mess of emotions? When he's already poured everything he has into their connection, worn his heart on his sleeve and confessed every bit of self-blame he's ever felt to it?

It tells him that it was all unnecessary?

It couldn't have said as such earlier, so that he'd have had even a tiny, modicum of a chance at making things right?

No amount of regret can fix this.

[littlestarlightseverywhere]

Sunkissed

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: The inner circle goes on holiday and Azzie is just allllll over his girl <3

Warnings: None

Notes: Thank you so much for all the love on my last story!

Image Credit: Pinterest

“It’s my pleasure,” Helion smirked, addressing the crowd with his words yet focusing his eyes on her. His brown skin reflected golden in the sun, the white cloth of his draped garment seeming to glow with it.

“Ever the generous host you are, Helion,” She played along for fun, the nature– and limits– of their flirty yet friendly relationship barely a secret.

“I wouldn’t dare displease you,” Helion purred. “You shouldn’t want for anything here. Just say the words, darling, and I’ll personally take care of it.”

Azriel was not the jealous type. He knew the effect he had on her, even all this time, and knew even better the effect she still had on him. It was like no time had passed since they’d been newly mated. His skin flushed as he recalled that initial period, how love-drunk he’d been, truly sated for the first time in his life by her burning affection, having his fill of her taste, and touch, and beautiful mind yet never getting enough of it at the same time.

He was a fool when it came to her, his brothers knew it, she knew it, and Azriel himself would not deny it either.

Yet his skin tightened over his bones and his shirt collar constricted the base of his thick neck ever so slightly as he walked behind her, watching Helion’s eyes trace her form, catching at her collarbones. The thought of him, another male, trying to provide for her, meet her every need, giving her anything… Azriel’s blood boiled. That was his place. He watched as his mate laughed dismissively, unobservant of Helion’s intense gaze.

She was beautiful, charming, and witty. No one could deny it. Rhys did not make her his foreign advisor for no reason. Azriel was quite used to people staring and trying to win her affections, but usually it never bothered him. Because at the end of the day, it was his ears that heard her thoughts and secrets, his eyes that watched her take on the world with grace and strength, and it was his bed they shared every night. He felt secure in their bond and she only had eyes for him, despite the entire world trying to court her at any given moment.

Mor and Feyre shared an amused, knowing glance at each other, studying the three as Rhys took over the conversation.

Helion led the group to his private lake just behind his palace. He was gracious in allowing the Inner Circle to have their summer holiday at his place in the Day Court, granting them access to his entire estate and anything on it for as long as they wished. “There are no such things as debts or favors when it comes to friends,” he said when he offered the location to Rhys in the first place.

The lake was downright gorgeous. Velaris was beautiful, but the Sidra could not compare to the Day Court’s waters even on its best day, a truth Azriel had kept to himself and Cassian had no problem voicing to Rhys. Its turquoise waters stretched for miles and miles, the sandy floor, algae, and tiny native fish visible through the watery looking glass. The palace sat behind them, watching protectively over its best-kept secret, and a vast expanse of green mountains rose on either side, their jagged edges softened by the lush native trees and vegetation. They curved around the lake the same way the gold of a crown hugs its jewel, enclosing it tightly in its earthy palm. Flowers trailed from the balcony down to the beach, the mud and sand padding the rock where the water met the earth. Blankets and a large wicker picnic basket lay ready on the beach.

Mor grabbed her and Feyre in her either of hands and dragged them down to the beach in a giddy, childish run. Azriel’s guiding, protective hand that had been poised at the small of her back suddenly felt cold at the fingertips as she was whisked away, her warm skin no longer close enough to soothe his skin like a balm.

He watched as she shed her clothes, throwing them haphazardly across the blankets. She laughed as Mor threw her dress over the picnic basket and picked out the gold pins in her hair, one by one, letting them land where they wanted to.

Azriel’s cheeks burned and his heart hammered with desire as he watched her shimmy out of her clothing, exposing her soft skin to the touch of the sun. The two-piece swimming slip adorned her curves so perfectly, like the garment was in love with its wearer. He’d picked it out for her. Her hair caught the breeze like something out of a novel and he swore he could smell her soap on the breeze even from all the way over where he was. Everytime he looked at her he felt like he was taking her in for the first time all over again. Part of him almost wanted to turn away with how difficult he suddenly found it to breathe, but he reminded himself with giddy disbelief, she’s mine.

“Easy,” Cassian muttered with a smirk, scenting him.

Azriel cleared his throat and Rhys sent him a boyish smile while continuing his conversation with Helion. Nesta and Amren joined the girls getting ready to get into the water while Elain and Varian settled on the blankets, books in each of their laps.

Mor was the first in the water, squealing at the sensation of it, cold at first, but warming to a luxurious temperature almost immediately. She laced her fingers with Feyre’s and they immediately followed Mor, throwing their heads back and laughing.

She savored the feel of the water against her skin, letting herself melt into its grasp and flow, letting it spread her hair behind her back and thread its liquid fingers through her strands. She submerged herself, gliding through the water until she was further out than anyone else. She’d waited for this holiday even before she knew they were going. She adored swimming, but there weren’t too many spots to do so in Velaris. In the water like this, enveloped in the lapping, balmy embrace of its ripples, she was at peace. Squealing, she beckoned the rest of the girls towards her, waving to Azriel from where he stood smiling like an idiot at her on the beach. He was shirtless now, and her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.

Azriel thought the sun complemented her skin, but in her eyes, it downright worshiped his. A glow even brighter than Helion’s overly-dramatic gold crown beamed from every inch of his body, tan and beautiful, broad and strong. She needed him in the water now.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a splash of water to her face. She gasped and laughed at the unexpected sensation, Mor and Feyre giggling like schoolgirls at their mischief.

Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel settled back into the blankets, supporting themselves with elbows that dug divots in the sand.

“Did you ever imagine this life for us?” Cassian asked his brothers as each of them watched their mates in the water.

They rarely got a holiday, and it was even more rare that they allowed themselves to take one if they had the time. Of course, it was Rhys that encouraged this outing in the first place. When Azriel and Amren refused, he required it, as their High Lord, to take the holiday with everyone else.

That wasn’t what convinced Azriel, though. It was his mate's excited chatter about the prospect of the holiday at Helion’s lake with all of their friends, getting to spend time with each other outside of Velaris, visiting another court without the prospect of war hovering over them, being able to swim for the first time in so long. She could hardly wait to feel the water on her skin, to feel the sun on her face, and to spend time with Azriel, experience a new place together. He couldn’t say no as he sat back on their bed and watched her try on her new swimming slips for him, as she packed their bags so early in advance because she could hardly wait.

No, Azriel would not take this vacation because of Rhys’ orders as High Lord of the Night Court, but because it made his soulmate so unbelievably happy. That was all the reason he needed.

Azriel shook his head. “I never would have expected it to be this good. Every day feels like I’m waking up in a dream when she’s next to me.”

His brothers could not even ridicule him for his uncharacteristic sappiness. None of them expected to have mates, let alone be so loved by them, when they were just three boys in a war camp deep in the Illyrian mountains. They did not dare to imagine anything about their future for fear of never seeing it. An rough-and-ready lordling and two bastards. What odds.

Life wasn’t always perfect– there would always be Hybern and their human sympathizers, and probably a hundred other things, to worry about. But with their loves in their lives and talks of starting families, they supposed it was as close to perfect as the Cauldron would allow.

The women spent some time in the water, swimming, splashing, lounging, and talking with their mates watching them as they talked amongst themselves. When they decided to get out to eat, Feyre challenged them all to a race.

“You’re going to regret that.”

Feyre raised her brows at Azriel’s mate, her closest friend out of them all, with mischief in her eyes. “Just because you’ve bested me in two other races doesn’t mean you’ll have this one too.”

“I think it does,” she smirked devilishly.

Feyre broke into a swim for the shore to the dismay of the other women. Amidst shouts of protest at Feyre’s unfair start, everyone else began their dash to the shore.

She sliced through the water like a knife through butter, already ahead of Mor, Nesta, and Amren, the latter of which refused to participate. Surpassing Feyre like a born nymph, she barely had to try as her body fell into the familiar motion of cutting through the soft waves of the lake until she felt the water shallow beneath her belly and she was able to stand.

The water swished at her ankles as her feet touched land once again, running up the beach. At the sight of Azriel waiting a little ways down with her towel in his hand, she all but forgot about the race. She ran toward him, blushing at his gaze. He immediately rolled the towel open and wrapped it around her as she ran into him, securing the towel with strong arms that wrapped around her body and swayed her gently with the momentum of her sprint. His strong presence was enough to halt her and she savored the feeling of his body at her back, his warmth seeping through he towel and caressing her water-frozen skin.

She was breathing deeply now, chest rising and falling under his arm. Azriel reveled in the thrum of her heart under his hold, willing it to ease.

Azriel nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck and she giggled, ticklish and giddy at his proximity.

“Did you see the race, Az? I wooon,” she sang, reaching an arm out of the towel to hold his face behind her. She leaned back against his chest, craning her neck up to meet his eyes, eyes that were absolutely drunk on watching her high. She was naturally competitive, much like he was during his snowball fights with his brothers. Watching her in her element filled him with pride to an extent she would never fully know.

“I did, I’m so proud of you, honey,” he smiled, sliding one of his arms up until it was slung across her chest, connecting his lips with hers. She tasted like the water, sweet and fresh. Azriel couldn’t help himself as he grabbed her waist. It was like drinking from a fountain with an eternal thirst he couldn’t quench. More, more, more. He didn’t care who was around.

She pulled away, flustered. “You sure don’t mind putting on a show,” she turned around fully in his arms so that she was facing him now. The towel had fallen slightly, now hung loosely around the crooks of her elbows. Her wet hair fell in waves around her face and to him, she looked like a goddess of the water. He was barely religious, the furthest thing from it really, but he’d devote himself to her for nothing in return.

After the food had been brought out, the Inner Circle enjoyed the lunchtime feast of bread, wine, fruit, and meats. After everyone had eaten their fill, namely Cassian who was half passed out on his back, they lounged on the beach. Nesta nestled into Cassian’s broad side with her book, speaking to Elain quietly. Amren and Varian had rattled off somewhere right after they were done eating– insatiable those two were. Mor was laying on her back, facing the sun, catching a tan.

“I’m so happy we did this,” Feyre said softly, addressing the group. “It feels like lately our joy has come from short-lived bursts of happiness or quiet. I can’t tell you all what it means to me that we can have this time without preparing for the worst.”

Rhys rubbed a soothing thumb over her shoulder. Everyone raised their glasses to that.

Azriel leaned back into the sand, one arm folded under his head and the other extended as his mate rested her head on the inside of his bicep. Tired from swimming and full from their meal, she curled into his side, draping a leg across his.

“I’m so happy to be here with you,” She murmured into the side of his chest, peppering kisses there on his warm, tan skin. Azriel brought his arm around her, pulling her closer and resting a hand over her hip, enjoying the heat of her sun-kissed skin beneath it.

He rested his mouth at the top of his forehead as she drifted in and out of sleep. He was like her sleeping drug. Whenever they sat back together to watch a movie, read their books, or on nights in with their friends for some wine and card games, she could hardly stay awake beside him.

His heart swelled. She felt so comfortable around him that her guards collapsed to dust in his presence. She gave herself fully to him, to his care, and he wasn’t sure if he could hold her any tighter at that moment.

Helion came out to check on his guests. “Like a litter of babes, the lot of you,” He chuckled as he took in his friends, exhausted and full, lazing about his private beach. His eyes floated over to her, to her dozing form beside her mate, beautiful and soft. Peaceful. Azriel was aware of his gaze– he always was aware of anyone perceiving his mate. He only opened his book and continued skimming his fingers on her hips above the waistband of her swimsuit. She was blissfully unaware, half awake, half dreaming, lulled into a world of dreams and darkness by the steadiness of Azriel’s breath and light touch.

After the group of friends were well rested, everyone made their way into the water again. Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel raced out to the middle of the lake, Azriel the obvious winner and it wasn’t even close. Cassian batted a wave of water over Az with his wing in tantrum and Rhys only laughed until his stomach throbbed. They played chicken, Nesta on Cassian’s shoulders and she on Azriel’s. Mor wanted to pretend-play mermaids and they dragged the males in on their fun. They begrudgingly played along, yet were silently more than happy to oblige them. Nesta placed a crown of algae on Cassian’s head and he fully committed to his part as King of the Plankton. They floated on their backs, swam in circles, and splashed waves at each other.

Climbing the jagged, rocky cliffs on either side of the lake, they jumped off of their ledges into the water below, in flips and turns, nosedives and backflips. The setting sun cooled the water, a pink and purple sky above their heads melting into an inky blue that lined the horizon.

A perfect day.

Everyone grew tired again. From the beach music began to play. Light and upbeat, but beautiful and soft– distinctly Day Court.

Azriel gently grabbed her hand, leading her behind one of the cliffs they had jumped off of. It was the largest cliff jutting out of the lake and provided complete privacy when they were on the other side of it.

“I’ve been waiting to get you alone all day,” Azriel said, removing a hand from under the surface of the water and moving a lock of her hair behind her shoulder. He took in her tanned skin and sun-blushed shoulders and cheeks.

“All you had to do was ask,” She replied, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

Azriel’s self control snapped like a rubber band and he pushed his body through the water against her, pinning her to the rock behind them. His hand cradled the back of her head against the jagged cuts of the cliff. He needed more, but he paced himself, letting himself savor the feel of her skin under the water. Azriel ran his hand up and down the side of her stomach, his fingertips trailing the skin as he moved. Her skin pebbled in the wake of his touch, sending a shiver down her spine. Even in his frenzy he took his time. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he slanted his lips over hers, water sloshing between their bodies in whatever space was left.

She sighed into his mouth and it drove him crazy. Pressing her chest to his, she needed to be as close as could, within his very being if it was possible.

“If I could just crawl into your skin and live inside your heart I would,” She told him one drunken night when she’d gotten so trashed with Nesta and Mor that he needed to fly her back home rather than walk like they always did after a night out. Azriel never forgot those words, and everytime they kissed or hugged he was reminded of them with an intensity that made his chest squeeze.

“Az,” She whispered into his mouth. His hands lowered from her waist to her hips, thumbs skimming the waistband of her bottoms again.

She couldn’t get enough of him. No matter how much time passed, he drove her absolutely mad. They’d only stopped for air once they absolutely could not breathe anymore, and even then, Azriel didn’t pull too far away, needing to feel her breath on him.

“What has gotten into you today?” She laughed lightly, though definitely not complaining. It was not like him to be so risky, to be so passionate when they weren’t completely alone.

“I just love you,” was all he said.

Night fell over the Day Court slowly but surely. The day had gone on forever. By the time it was dark enough, some of Helion’s housekeepers started a bonfire and replenished the beach with more food and wine.

She laid down on the blankets again with Azriel beside her, propped up on his elbow and leaning on his side so he was looking directly down at her. Their legs were intertwined and they laughed and spoke softly, a bit away from the rest of the group.

Azriel’s free hand rested on the plane of her soft belly, listening more than he spoke. Of course he was a man of few words, but around her, he enjoyed letting her speak. It was one of his favorite things, learning more and more about the way her brilliant mind worked with the things she said.

With her thoughts, ideas, and opinions, he thought she was incredibly intelligent– the smartest person he knew. He learned so much from her eloquent tongue, adoration filling him from head to toe when she went on her tangents.

The first time she even went on one of her rants in front of him, even before the bond had snapped into place, she was flustered and apologized to Azriel. At the time, she didn’t know Azriel liked her back and dread filled her veins at the idea that she possibly scared him away for good. But he simply shook his head and encouraged her, asking questions and helping her carry the conversation when he felt it start to falter with her hesitation.

They rejoined their friends at some point– he couldn’t remember when, or how long they’d been lost in each other. When she said she wanted to go sit with everyone else for a bit, he agreed. He’d always follow her wherever she led, no questions asked. Back up the beach, up to their room, to the ends of the earth, even.

[inklores]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐒.

pairing: henry!sherlock holmes x fem!oc

summary: sherlock holmes needs to find his intrepid little sister. clara bedi wants to keep his sharp nose off her trail. (word count: 3.1k)

content contains: fluff, sherlock being bad with women, slight strangers to lovers but they're both smart idiots

author's note: made originally for a class assignment but i'm too proud of it to keep it hidden away in my google docs!! enjoy

FUMES OF SMOKE lifting from the corners of his lips, he thumbed the lapis silk tie the pamphlet was bound by. The rhythmic movement was a rehearsed habit of his, charting keen thoughts that were falling into place.

Tea in the Parlor

Magazine of Modern Womanhood

25 April 1884

“A Problem With No Name. I’ve first heard that uttered so solemnly beneath the breath of a mother amid other mothers over the scent of teacakes and the English brew that her hands had surely processed the week before. Another cried. As your humble magazine writer, there have been women beyond our teatime who had answers to my questions. Those who sort matchsticks in factories, who raise children, who nurse other children. Those who live in the fine estates of Westminster, lodging houses along Greater London, and flats bordering Whitechapel, all have the same problem. The groping truths to their lamentations, brought into light when the children were away and their husbands attended to important business over a glass of sherry at their gentleman’s clubs,—”

Something more than a scoff and less than a laugh escaped Holmes.

“—were provoking. Just what was this nameless problem? A whisper that refuses to be said. The bond of pain, of womanhood, of the searing feeling that something great shall arrive to our fair England.”

— C.E. Babbington.

“Mr. Holmes, I hope you’re not mistaking me as someone with whom you are at odds with.”

Clara wore burgundy today.

Or indigo to a sharp eye, moreso if she sat in the dusky shade rather than by the window where sunlight was allowed to stream through the frosted glass tiles. The heat of the afternoon, Clara could tolerate. The brisk cold, the musk of tobacco, pomade, and fine English leather that filled her office—all mingling together to create one scent that floated around the man who stood in front of her— she virtually could not.

Well, “office” may have been a playful nudge to her ego. It was more of a closet with a pen, a hook to hang her coat when there was a chill, a canister of her favorite tea matched with her precious teapot, and a small sideboard that she used to stash her extra paper. Clara had spent enough time in that little closet to learn its quirks and commodities. The shutters would not close in blustery weather unless they were bound by a scarf. The gentleman who would take his Saturday morning coffee and eggs always found something to guffaw about in the newspaper. Clara knew because she could hear the fervor of his chortles from one story up. The fifth floorboard from the door creaked with the slightest movement and she had garnered the will to purchase a rug that softened footsteps over the parquet.

Now if only she could purchase a rug to wrap around the man filling her tiny corner with the fumes of… man.

A tall man. Haughty by the way he stood. He looked strong and sturdy, weaned on the finest food money could buy. Clara wondered if he teethed on crumpets and caviar as a baby. His clothing may have been picked to feign oneness with the people of England, but she noticed a grain on his breasted black coat. His crisp white shirt boasted no wrinkle, cinched around his neck by a silk ascot the color of charcoal. Chestnut curls spilled across his head—sharing no unified form—and fighting to be free of the pomade that gleamed in the dimness of the lamplight. She imagined an artless tumble of locks when he was nose-deep in a case. An errant strand fell over his brow, softening his countenance where his tone failed to.

“Have you anticipated me, Miss Bedi?”

It was Clara’s mistake for stopping short of her movements. Her fingers froze on the handle of her teapot and it was then she realized the incriminating ink stains that blotched her bronzed fingers.

She did not. He knew that. He likely knew what she had for breakfast as well. Hence the cloying pride that laced his query.

A tickle caught in her throat and she swallowed tightly to preserve her pride as she arched a dark brow. “No, I have not, but I applaud your effort. Nobody contemplates and makes a theater out of their face quite like you.”

Looking up from the tea she was pouring, Clara barely caught the indignant twitch in his face, even as his mountainous posture was unrelenting. For a man who was presumed to be discreet, he was quite eye-catching.

He dropped his gaze down to the lonely armchair and side table Clara would enjoy her tea in. It was the one perpetually surrounded by her basket of stained pen tips and folded newspapers— Clara had the habit of saving old prints—bits of thread, scraps of silk in cooler hues, linen from occasional embroiders, and stacks of books from Edith that never make it back to the shelf, being moved around constantly on the empty promise of being read to completion.

It was a detective’s heaven.

“The name ‘Holmes’ is beginning to mean quite a deal in this country,” her eyebrows slanted, copper eyes filled with constellations, “and do you think I would be in my position if I did not know?”

“Precisely why you flinched when I used your name and not your pen name.” His voice was rich as a fine velvet she let her hands graze over at a textile stand, but detached. “Deceit. To hide the plain truth, just as frills and elegant coifs do. Yes, it may dress you like a powder puff—” she parted her lips in protest but his eyes glimmered like opals, he was clearly not done—“but the man holding the pen is entirely different. In that…”

Her grip on her teacup could not get any tighter, for one tremor to rattle the porcelain would have him arriving quicker to the deduction he savored for last.

“He is not a man at all, is he?”

She watched in bated, almost nonexistent, breath—wondering how quickly she could get her hands on the cake spade lying unfashionably by the crumbs of a Dundee cake she had scarfed down the night before—as he fished a blue silk tie that bookmarked the yellowed book she just realized he held.

“How does a C.E. Babbington become… the elusive Clara Eashwar Bedi?”

A wave of cold took her from head to toe. If Clara wasn’t gripping the edge of her desk, knuckles quickly whitening, she was sure her knees would’ve given out. She stared down at the pretty silk tie, and then at the folded pamphlet he slid over the varnished surface, the black ink script almost snickering at her in mockery.

His words came as fluidly as water, uttered with a stone-cold expression she figured was his mask for his famous deductions.

“Four separate purchases of pens and paper from three different vendors.”

Spreading her tracks. No writer who desired anonymity would so foolishly expose herself by making a reputation with one seller.

He was studying her closet-office now. A satin kerchief protected his hand as he chose a stained pen to scrutinize. “Bills from Whitechapel. Cheaper ink—a shadowy writer such as yourself would not earn her dues to spend carelessly on finer supplies than supper for the night. Or silk ties to make her mark. To create a name.”

Cheaper ink bleeds easier. Her fingers, a blatant victim.

“Bedi.” He tasted her last name on his tongue for a moment, eyebrows pinched as if he was trying to paint a map in his acute mind. “When did your father leave India?”

Her throat was dry but she swallowed down her apprehension and managed out, “Fifteen years ago.”

“Does he work on the docks?”

“Worked.”

A flash of humanity lightened his eyes and the man of a chilly, pragmatic acumen faltered. “Apologies.”

The sound that tumbled from Clara’s lips could only be described as something between a shaking sigh and an aggravated grumble. “What is it you want, Mr. Holmes?”

“You write for the Magazine of Modern Womanhood,” he continued, making Clara bite back an exhausted groan. “Yet you affect a pseudonym. Why?”

“I don’t write for the magazine, I write alongside it,” Clara mumbled. Why was she entertaining him? “I don’t have the means to print my pieces independently— as you so cleverly deduced by my purchases of ink.”

“Your pieces… and other submissions, I’d bet.”

“Are you a betting man?” She lifted a brow curiously, daring him to stop this frivolous quadrille of tongues and get to the point.

“A cipher with the fingerprints of my sister was published in the personal advertisements column of your magazine, The Pall Mall Gazette, and The Journal of Dress Reform. It’s our mother’s interest she hopes to attract and with the choice of your publication, she has a good start.”

“God, there’s more of you?” she asked, feigning horror. “Is the world ready for that?”

(But where the name Mycroft Holmes was etched in cold stone and proud, old money, she had the sense the name Sherlock meant something else. Something whisper quiet like a dusty novel on crumpled velvet. Elegant with solitude.)

Sherlock took a step forward, his fingers still thumbing the fraying corner of the book. “Have you any idea where she might be?” He tilted his head. “I’m afraid our mutual acquaintance Edith had more to say of my “ostrich-like” nature than my sister.”

Clara couldn’t help the kick in her voice as she responded, “Appropriate.”

He smiled at her, a Private Investigator brand of Smile that Clara knew well enough from the numerous times a constable had approached the magazine for its inflammatory words, and which only deserved a Young Journalist Smile.

But what he said snagged her attention as well as a good story. Eudoria’s daughter. Little Enola. 

Edith had mentioned her once or twice. Clara might have seen a glimpse of a little brown-headed girl with quick feet, dashing about Ferndell Hall when ladies of a particular ilk huddled around a table, bearing swords on their tongues and determination in their hearts. Clara typically stood behind her bolder friend, Edith, clutching a pen that barely made a scratch against her worn pocketbook. She knew little for the illustrious Sherlock Holmes to knock on her door… but little was more than enough to be cunningly dissected and deduced by him.

“Enola’s missing?” she asked slowly, hoping to stall but Sherlock Holmes was not a man for idle chatter. Her head shook in a disappointing, deceiving refusal. “I’m sorry, but I have the faintest idea as to where she’s gone and why.”

“I find that highly improbable,” said Holmes in a tone that suggested he too was done with this waltz. “You’re protective of your name, or, names —”

“And what will you do if I use your name, Mr. Holmes?” Clara countered rigidly, her heart leaping into her throat. “Loudly? With proper dictation? Letting everyone know your business more than you’d like?”

“Then you’d also find yourself and Edith in a very difficult position, one that I’ve made clear to her and will to you if I must,” Sherlock warned, dropping his voice to a decibel that made a chill rattle her spine. A hint of vague frustration was tangled within his dull humor. 

Clara stilled, watching as he turned over the book and leafed through toward the back cover. Stuffed in the spine was a folded napkin and he paired it with the newspaper clipping for her viewing displeasure. Wrinkled and white and stamped with the crumbs of a pastry, her eyes were naturally drawn to the hasty scrawl in ink:

“C.E.B.

Matter of Bill —

Tea Rooms”

The same dismayed expression from when he dissected her alter ego took ahold of her face once more, even if she tried to disguise it by a clench of her jaw. 

“Macaroons could do with some attention but Edith has enough to worry about,” said Holmes. “She’ll notice the missing book from her seditious collection but not the message hidden inside— a message written to Babbington, who I understand is an intrepid young woman, so I’m sure you’re aware of what the proper connections can do for a man.” The distant, icy blue of his eyes warmed. “I asked of your father— a man who likely worked too hard for too little a reward and you, his daughter, silently fighting in favor of a bill that will help the men and women like him.”

“My,” Clara gasped, “Mr. Holmes, I didn’t take you for a man of politics.”

The stray little curl swished across his brow as he shook his head. “Oh, I’m far from it.”

She hummed curiously. “Then, what do you fancy? People? Poetry? Probably not. It’s your cases that keep you warm at night, which is why you hunt your own sister in blind circles like a dog chasing his tail.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice, “If Edith tells you nothing, I will say even less. Trust your sister… and the future. Good day, Mr. Holmes.”

She made to go around him, ignoring the way her stomach fluttered as she did, until a bleak and dare she say, concerned mutter caught her ear.

“She’s a child.”

“By my understanding, you’ve abandoned her once, Mr. Holmes. In the pursuit of where your mind takes you and little of your heart,” Clara said, more sharply than was her wont. 

“I beg your pardon.”

The anger in his voice flared like a bleeding heart. A man who was a fire next to gunpowder, ready to speak his mind and snatch the rug beneath a pair of unsuspecting feet. She could loathe him for being so perceptive and intelligent, yet plainly missing the changes of the world. But that tone… He was no longer a brilliant mind or a pleasantly distant man. He was a brother who wanted to know where his sister was.

And if there was ever a case that Sherlock Holmes would encounter, it would leave no secrets he could not crack.

Clara turned around, stained fingers toying with each other, teeth worrying her lower lip to a reddening bruise. Amusement danced in her eyes, quenching the frustration that twisted his sharply cut features.

“You have it,” she admitted after a pause, cheeks growing warm. “Because I’m a woman who believes in second chances… and the calling of her heart rather than her mind. And a desolate, hopeless bachelor tugs at that heart, I’m afraid.”

Sherlock’s face contorted incrementally, the corners of his lips curling up just a tad. It was not a smile. Another part of her would have thought so but not the smart part. Still, it was an odd expression that made Clara think it was gracious.

“I’m not aware of such a reputation.” Fond.

“Figures,” she sighed, eliciting a huff of laughter from him. The sound was enough to make her face crack with a smile. “Enola’s sixteen. And if she’s anything like her mother and brother, she won’t go down with a fight nor will she be drawn away from it. And the real fight is coming. I advise you to start there.”

He squinted at her. Then at the napkin. Then at the clipping signed by C.E. Babbington. The fight.

“A problem with no name,” he murmured.

“It has a name, Mr. Holmes. Whether it will be spoken is decided by men like you and your older brother,” she added, rightly hopeful. “Perhaps that will change.”

Silence settled comfortably between them until the pounding of her heart became too loud for her ears to bear. She cleared her throat and pulled the knob to her door, returning her gaze to Sherlock.

“Until next time, Mr. Holmes.” She smiled. “I hope your game finds its feet. My best to your sister.”

He tilted his chin in an understanding nod, hand pressing against the curly blue tie that still sat next to his evidence, her pamphlet. To her surprise, he waited. One hand disappeared in the flap of his jacket and came out holding a fine black pen shot with gold trimming. To a man like Holmes, it was a pen to write some very useful reckonings of the mind but to Clara, it looked more valuable than what she earned in a week. It clinked as he set it on her desk, accompanied by that slight, mysterious smile.

“Trust a bill won’t be made,” Sherlock assured, amused as he approached her. He extended the blue ribbon to her.

“And a secret will be kept,” she enforced, fixing him with a look as she curled her fingers over the forbidden silk tie, folding it into his palm.

His hand was cold, callused like the reward of cracking cases. Yet it managed to send a surge of heat swirling in her chest, akin to lightning crossing a black sky.

(And did she intend the other thing she did too? The split-second brush of her fingertips over his palm and the way the ball of his throat was disturbed by a tight swallow. Savoring the softness of the lapis silk strand against his pale flesh and her copper skin.)

He lingered by the doorframe for more than a second. Sherlock looked at her— perhaps a more bewitching case with the narrowest twists and the sharpest of turns. A shadow of a smile graced his prim lips and he let out a delectable, ruminative hum. “Is that a promise I would be foolish to break, Miss Babbington?”

“Indeed it is, Mr. Holmes.” She watched him depart, a puzzling black figure who had more to his voice than what he decided to speak. 

“Oh, on the subject of hearts…”

Sherlock paused and turned around. He studied the meticulous way she swept her indigo skirt behind her and made him wait until she finally, painstakingly met his gaze. Only then she made him realize how beholden he was to her unfinished prose.

“While surely hopeless for a… perspicacious man with such a baffling pigheadedness,” Clara murmured, smiling lopsidedly, “do keep yours open.”

Before he left with another curt, reserved nod, Sherlock ruminated on her words. Her tone— he barely noticed the way he wondered how all of her other pretty, printed words would sound if they were turned from ink to… to… that voice.

No… she was not a case. She was a quandary. An unsolved riddle that he cracked with the full assumption that the winning hand was in his, only to turn over his cards and see that it was she who had the royal flush.

What fresh hell was this?

[brujitaadinbo]

I was hoping to continue with this dynamic and here I am again. Another of many iconic couples that have represented love or romance in a different, healthy way and breaking away from the cliché and the established.

If you have had the opportunity to see Samurai x It is truly a treasure. The anime is a beautiful work, despite all the disaster and the author's private life, this piece is truly unique. If you have the opportunity to see it, do it but if you have the opportunity to see the live action of this same project, it is definitely incredible and you are going to thank me.

Samurai X It is a whole accumulation of feelings and experiences that address the deepest part of the human being, the bonds that come to form, from war, conflict, from a difficult and complicated past but from a bright and hopeful future.

All this surrounding Kenshin (Batozai), the main protagonist, in ancient feudal Japan. And now…where are the parallels with Din and Bo in their relationship??? I'll explain it to you….

Kenshin is a rounin, he is a remnant of war, someone who flees from this bloody past, who seeks refuge in a place of peace, who has left the sword to change his path. And in the process he meets Kaoru, a strong and brave girl who shows him that the best way to face his problems is not to run away, that his life cannot be summed up simply by hiding and doing nothing. Someone who shows him that he can have a bigger purpose and settle down, have support and people who love him.

Does it sound familiar to you?? Continuous… Kenshin has taken the sword as a tool to heal past wounds, to touch hearts and try to change them to peace, but he is also a born, exceptional warrior, he is a prodigy with the sword and does not hesitate for a moment to protect what he loves and between that to protect Kaoru ... Really here Netflix excelled with these movies, you can still find them… And Takeru Sato (Kenshin actor) is beautiful, he is magnificent in this role.

Kaoru inherited his father's dojo and therefore his teachings in the art of the sword, he knows that it is his responsibility to maintain the honor of his family and expand that knowledge, defend it when it has been stained by people who want to usurp that knowledge and protect to his own, in the process to Kenshin, to protect his village and his people. In all the movies the interaction between them is very strong, the attraction and the soft and subtle way that Kenshin treats Kaoru and cares about her. In the anime, I promise you that the scenes are more explicit, but in the movies, there is a very particular and cute way in which these two interact, without even a simple kiss, you know that they love each other and that their feelings are bilateral. .. .... Although Kenshin already had a past love relationship, it was something that left him very hurt and exposed, but with Kaoru the light of a better future is always there. She is usually stubborn and rude but little by little her temper softens and it is evident at all times that she cares about him… LOL like a certain red haired Mandalorian woman protecting a certain Mandalorian from the silver beskar.

And if we go to the DinBo plane, of course we find similarities… Din, a lost bounty hunter, drowned in a desolate world, who is saved from those waters by Grogu and that little by little his change begins and that thanks to Bo katan for his words "some of us have a greater purpose" and because your needs as a parent make you want something better for your child and for him… it is more than obvious. Bo katan in parallel with Kaoru, they try to preserve the family legacy, the best of them, protect their people and in the process be better people and provide support and a new home to new ones who want to join this family. I also add that there is a very special parallel with Grogu, being an orphaned and abandoned child, he is adopted by Din and they take care of each other, now being the largest clan, a clan of 3, Bo Katan enters as part of their new bond and She also looks for a way to protect them. Kaoru adopted a child "Yahiko" some time ago, showing him the techniques of his dojo and making him his pupil, Kenshin enters this family dynamic, protecting this new group and also being Yahiko's teacher at times.

Relationships that can go beyond stereotypes, that sometimes clichés make them seem boring or repetitive. If these parallels sound familiar to you it's because you're in sync with me, if not… watch the footage, watch The Mandalorian again from season 2 and 3 and watch this Samurai X footage I repeat, you will not regret it.

[vivispec]

hey, i’m bloo/vivi (she/her, 25). feel free to send me asks/message me/tag me in stuff, i always love interaction!

mostly posting dragon age rn (and for the foreseeable future) but i’m also pretty big on bg3, outer wilds, mass effect, zelda, msa, ghibli, ancient magus bride, and lots of other things i pick up and put down. i do a lot of writing for my da ocs which you can find on my ao3 here.

speaking of, here are links to my big completed projects:

derecho (my submission for the 2023 dragon age big bang, with AMAZING art by neoendydy)

my whumptober 2022 collection (100% completed because. i have issues.)

under the cut are my dragon age ocs whomst i love dearly, and write about pretty much exclusively! i am a dirty dirty console player so janky quality be upon ye

just realized all but one of these bitches is elves. look. i told you i got issues ok.

here we have my beloved viera’vun ‘viera’ lavellan, my inquisitor and a solasmancer (i am so sorry to her), as well as the oc i write most by far. she was a dalish hunter trained primarily in daggers, later specializing as a tempest. she is a pathfinder at heart whose greatest strengths are her perceptiveness and resilience, while her greatest weaknesses lie in her impulsivity, lack of assurance in her identity, and her tendency to run from her problems. i have a bunch of fucked up aus centered around her and all the situations i put her into! she likes to run, climb, and sing (she is Bad at it). varric calls her ‘finch’.

iloniyn, my most preciousest boy. him and viera are hunting partners as well as (platonic) soulmates, a phenomenon known to the dalish as tael’inan. they are each one half of a whole. iloniyn is incredibly sarcastic, confident, and prickly, but tends to care deeply about those that he considers his people, and gives of himself freely to them (even if he complains while doing it). he is bonded to @sweetmage​‘s oc athimien, likes to whittle, is a great shot, and can play the lute. varric calls him ‘snipe’.

ishme aeducan, a sharp, hard woman who will not be made a fool again. raised to navigate the subtle and dangerous world of dwarven politics, she is incredibly cunning, and often pulling the strings in any given situation. she is softened by alistair, who teaches her how to be a person as she teaches him how to be a king. wields dual blades as a warrior.

taufei! oooh i love taufei. a leader alongside ishme by the end of origins, she is idealistic, friendly, and generally just a chill person to hang with. though content enough to do her own thing, once she sets her sights on something, she does not relent, often leading her into...hairy situations. those situations include wooing a witch of the wilds and having a sweet lil totally-not-in-any-way-shape-or-form-creepy baby with her! yippee! she was the second of her clan, though her magic was never incredibly powerful and, as such, she made her living on making and infusing potions for her clan. she is a skilled herbalist, knows enough archery to protect herself, and actually has really long luscious curls that Do Not Exist in game you are just going to have to trust me okay.

kita tabris. she is...intense. if you are her friend she is kinda just a dudebro. picked up the big sword her mother used to wield and decided to learn how to use it because, hell yeah, big sword (which, as it so happens, is exactly what her mom did). if you are not her friend, she is. intense. finds battle thrilling, and isn’t afraid to spill blood. while she can come across as flippant or immature, much of her disregard stems from an avoidance of her more serious (and painful) thoughts and emotions. she is zevran’s gorgeous and incredibly powerful girlfriend whomst he adores and cherishes, and the fact that she can, will, and has crushed a man’s skull with her bare hands only strengthens his devotion. 

araia surana, a very sweet young mage who is wholly overwhelmed by this big, new world around her. previously a teacher’s pet who didn’t much mind kinloch hold with little in the way of friends, jowan’s ‘betrayal’ left her reeling with nowhere to turn. while she is curious of the world beyond, she is also incredibly anxious. she picks up a habit of lying to avoid confrontation, and while she is very good at it, her dishonesty puts strain on her and leliana’s relationship early on. her passion is in ancient and forgotten magical techniques and practices. she loves listening to leliana’s stories of adventure and romance, and often plays ‘doll’ when her girlfriend decides she needs something to dress up. after the archdemon is defeated, she spearheads efforts to find the cure for the joining.

[monsterfloofs]

V1C3 LORE! V1C3 LORE! I am kicking my legs as I look at them in all all their pride and problem filled glory. I am so so curious to see them tested to their limits for their love, one that’s angry and frustrated and fights back. One that makes choices that would threaten the monopolized near anarchy-like control this dystopian is under. To threaten their pride, their iron fist, their very ego, to have it almost crumble into fumbling scraps when the human they care for is scared and livid and nearly dying from the chokehold of this world. Of them. How would that dent their mind? Dent their company? Rust their sharper edges, worn down by beat burst love from squeezing too hard?

Being robotic they probably just get rid of the source of it all, but it hurts. They can factory reset. Too risky, too much information lost. They could filter through and pinpoint these emotions in a program exposing their soft insides, their code, but they’re too useful. They feel too good. Warping their human to be anything otherwise is no less terrifying of a thought either. That’s a scary part of love for someone like them I’d imagine

Fighting and flowing against and with their human’s every more stings and burns but the mere idea of riddance is like a guillotine.

They are so fascinating and I wanna pick them apart and see they stretched out to their limit. It’s interesting to see these rigid controlling types be bent screeching and rough like metal. Thankfully there are ways in the world to break through steel, softening it, heating it, molding it. V1C3 is so intriguing and I need to study them under a microscope and see them put in situations.

I am extremely normal about them odbskanakqmql (if any of this makes you uncomfortable please let me know)

Alternately:

V1C3: Sex is disgusting and primitive, you have millions of other form of enjoyment and you choose to do so in the most depraved manner

—

V1C3, having installed various sex toys now and definitely known for fucking the human VERY LOUDLY out of possessiveness (and being asked): …

Other robots: So.

V1C3: shut the fuck up-

(^ probably wouldn’t say this but I think it’s a funny thought)

Oh my haha, that is quite a deep dive! I am totally here for it!!

You mentioned looking at what they would go through, but also!!

On the other hand you got the human that is fighting them at every twist and turn. They h a t e them. But then also get to see a side of them NO ONE ELSE SEES. Something quiet and sweet, what does that do to the human of the equation too?? Is it like quicksand?? Slowly realizing that the villian they have hated all this time has a hand on their heart? 8O WHAT THE HECKIE DO THEY DO WITH THAT???

They can't just forget or delete files, and their wounded heart I am sure hurts just as much if not more! To love someone who is so flawed, and possibly a blight on society THAT WOULD BE HORRIBLE!!

It's like you start out trying to figure out how to destroy them, but then save them? Or save myself? Can I do both?

WHEW-- That is some deep stuffs.

Vice was my attempt at making a romanceable baddie, and there are a lot of messy atrings attatched. <: 3

I know I can say, if they dealt with a fiesty protag. it would take them a lot... longer for them to bond with this person? They also may not have as much inaccidental power over Vice. Vice wouldn't trust them too much. It also makes me think if the beanie really despised Vice they wouldn't have taken whatever offer, or Vice wouldn't have been interested? I am sure people despising them is probably a dime a dozen! Why this specific person?

Putting someone that has known activity against his empire in "house arrest" would be a plausibilty for their character and also for them and the protag. to exist in the same space for a while. Taking someone who is important to the human organization and tossing them in a quinessention lavish jail to laugh in the face of their opposition.

Essentially like: "Oh, I think you have had enough time to scheme for a while. You get a time out."

Heckin rood robo-boss >:I Let me have my vendetta.

And also spear jaded remarks at eathother through dealing with one another.

That might... make more sense and work out potentionally?

BUT OH MAN 🤣🤣🤣🤣

Vice with humans is a little more careful, and considerate, even when their irk him. BUT HOLY CROW VICE HAS A ROBOTTO INSULT THEM?? Oh man. 👁👁 I think they'd crunch the poor bbies face into a wall, and ask politely for a new member of staff SKDKDKSKS

WHEEZE HHHHHHH

Oh man oh man oh man--

Yeah please staff... do not piss this one off, they have no mercy for beings who can fix themselves easily..🥺

A cheeky bot... may easily become scrap metal if you say something that Vice deems as rude.

That's why having a sweetie would be so 😳 The JUNK THEY CAN GET AWAY WITH??

"I stole yo car, I broke out of the house again and I am driving down the interstate at 4 am." 😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎

THAT RIGHT THERE gets an amused chuckle and a "Must we do this again? You know you can't get far. ♡"

While some other poor folk gets hunted down for so much giving them a sassy comment dkskskkdsks HHHHHH.

But- yes ahaha 🤣🤣🤣

NO, NO YOU'RE GOOD, OH MY GOSH I AM GLAD YOU LIKE THEM 👁👁

Thankfully, due to Vice nature, they would give their hooman a lot of space! So no one has to hear intimate time! Unless... Vice is being an arse... >:I

I also can't really see fiesty protag... really wanting any kind of intimate nonsense with them...? 🤔 There may be a way that works out later?? Thinking about hating someone and human emotions that hooman would be more likely to trad insults.. oh man-- I like you dear anon, get really into those details and try and understand the microcosm that is story!

I wanna be able to see how it all would thread together 🥺🥺🥺 That one would definately be a quintessential enemies to lovers trope though, oh gosh!

Most scenarios kind of would be?? But this one, very much so!!

[horizon-verizon]

What makes me laugh about Nettles and Daemon's fan logic is that he thinks that if Daemon hadn't slept with/made her, he would have let Rhaenyra kill her. Like, Daemon would have no problem letting Rhaenyra kill a poor innocent girl, because Daemon is an evil man. The logic of these people, my god...

I'm sorry, "made her"? Like he was her dad or that he raped her?

As for people thinking Daemon would allow Rhaenyra to execute Nettles without having slept with Nettles or having some sort of romance with her maybe their way of using his "family first" character trait against others. Rhaenyra is family in nearly every sense of the word while Nettles can't be proven--reliably through just text, bc the text by itself alone doesn't lead the reader into thinking that she is his bio daughter....context does, though--that she has any blood relation to him, but the text/his reactions do suggest that they had some sort of bond. So they may reason that there is no way that the bind could have been just platonic if there was no blood b/t the two.

Perhaps they are right about there being sexual relations but they went in the "reverse": instead of them being bound by blood from Daemon's sexual relations with someone in the past, they think he's having sexual relations with Nettles in the present.

It also uses the already-there idea that he was incapable or very unwilling to form any sort of bond outside his own family, which admittedly, he wasn't (willing). I happen to think that because Nettles was so young, of a lower class and of the lowest, and a girl, Daemon didn't really see her as a threat even with Sheepstealer (she only rode him for a year or so) + their being alone on a mission + her own obvious bravery and sense of loyalty softened him up towards her to allow for such a bond + his already having lost 4 children/"real" family (Visenya, Jacaerys, Lucerys, Viserys [II]; the last who everyone thought was lost at sea). But the bio-daughter theory is getting more and more attractive to me.

Daemon, I think, wouldn't go out of his way to prevent--in general--the deaths of kids or women or whatever specifically during wartime. At the same time, I do not think he goes out of his way to destroy children's/women's lives to feel in control or take pleasure in that. For him--what I think--it's likely this: "It's war, people are going to die and unless there is a strategic way of going out of one's way, there's no point in looking out for the small person, I gotta focus on us [his family/the blacks]". Is this compassionate? Hell no! Is this altruistic? God no. Rather it proves how self-interested he is. But it doesn't show any exceptionality to his moral code, from your typical aristocrat, either that would justify the idea of his being the "ultimate" evil in this particular story.

Rhaenyra, throwing her party making her youngest V boy son her heir, mimics Aegon II's throwing a party for the death of her other son Lucerys while the coffers are dry--probably thinking she needs to show her/her son's prestige and might as well as take some sort of revenge against her brother. No, she wasn't thinking of the smallfolk as much as we know a leader should, mainly thinking about safety & how to obtain and maintain control for herself and her kids. However, I don't think that people should have ever made the mistake of thinking that she was this person or that this was a story for that in the first place. that's Dany's arc, not Rhaenyra's. Rhaenyra grows up in a very privileged (classwise) position, and like Sansa, will likely grow with some royal pride as well as use that pride to make up for the misogynist attacks/undermining used against her. Think of Elizabeth I and Catherine the Great. (Intersectionality is a blessing, y'all. but just remember that Rhaenyra's class and Queenship put her on more of an edge over Nettles, who definitely did nothing wrong or even could be told of doing something suspicious. Rhaenyra was misogynoirist towards her.) Like Daemon, the smallfolk's well-being is not at the forefront or even a primary concern. And she's probably thinking--sometimes when maybe it's at the back of her head...maybe--that she is better for these people in the long run anyway, compared to her brother...which she wouldn't be totally wrong about but again her primary reasoning for going for the throne has always been because she wanted it and her father named her as heir AND she faced harassment from the greens. "So they might as well continue on, give it all they got".

Again, this is what I think these two would be like. And coming from those askers who kept giving me "reasons" why everyone should hate Rhaenyra or see her as exceptionally evil and who would--either in the same Tumblr or other social media accounts, usually men--express how they do not care about the human race so much as their own families....seems hypocritical.

[theashop]

Thirteen feet apart

Summary: After joining, Ayaka had come to the conclusion that Aether’s humble little team wasn’t exactly what she dreamed it’d be like.

Characters: Kamisato Ayaka | Kong / Aether  | Bennett 

Relationships: Kamisato Ayaka & Kong / Aether |  Bennett & Kong / Aether  | Bennett & Kamisato Ayaka | Mentioned Thoma | Mentioned Kamisato Ayato | Mentioned Fischl | Mentioned Razor

Wordcount: 5865

AO3

After joining, Ayaka had come to the conclusion that Aether’s humble little team wasn’t exactly what she dreamed it’d be like. She was just as charmed by the Traveler as she was back then, when he first arrived in Inazuma, after all, he hadn’t changed a bit and Paimon had been just as hard to silence. Both of them made a wonderful, albeit sometimes comedically tiresome pair. Especially when Aether had the opportunity to combine the topic of food with his floating companion.

They were exactly the same as Ayaka remembered them to be, even after what happened with the Raiden Shogun, and she was very glad to find that out. The problems arose when she met the last, and only permanent member of the team.

Aether had made it very clear from the very beginning how his party would change from time to time, and in theory, it sounded lovely. Having friends all over Teyvat had its advantages, it made no difference which corner of the world Aether ended up, he always had a group of people he could fall back on no matter the circumstances. It might’ve been selfish of Ayaka, but now that she was part of the team, she hoped to get into one of those adventures she’s been hearing about with some of these friends just so she could form a similar bond with them.

So when Aether mentioned he had a friend traveling with him she hadn’t had the opportunity to meet yet, she was even more excited to leave the Kamisato Estate behind. The thing is, the moment she dubbed the Traveler as her friend, she knew deep down it was just a polite gesture due to formalities and positions. She could feel this in her heart when he gave her a smile and her cheeks warmed, when he offered a hand and she’d jump to take it without hesitation. So to have a real, actual friend sounded actually…pretty nice.

When it came to people Aether regarded close companions it wasn’t hard to see the fondness in his eyes as he talked about them. Even when it came to Paimon and her annoying little habits his voice would soften, making Ayaka wonder if it ever came to her, would he use the same tone too?

So the moment she could walk alongside the young adventurer she didn’t expect to be met with disappointment.

Bennett wasn’t a bad person, far from it, Ayaka could tell. And she trusted Aether’s judgment. Yet, the image that was painted of him was not matching with his kneeled down form in front of her, head bowed as low as it could go. Was it a Mondstadt tradition or custom, she wondered as she made a mental note to ask Thoma about it later, when she got the chance.

However, as weeks went on by while they made their way back to the city of freedom she figured that couldn’t have been it.

Instead as described, Bennett spoke in hushed tones and only with Aether. Paimon was a different story, she always had a way of making people react, therefore, to ignore her would’ve proved to be an impossible task so the boy treated her all the same. However, talking with Ayaka was only reserved for short greetings without eye contact and combat, when communicating was necessary.

And those latter moments made Ayaka’s stomach clench with a familiar feeling as she was ordered to stay back, asking to let Aether and him deal with the situation. Just like how Ayato had done for her many years ago, when their grief had been so fresh he couldn’t even bear to see her with a sword in hand. If the Traveler brought freedom and Paimon gave unfiltered honesty, then Bennett was a reminder of the image of herself she wished to discard.

As a result of this came the haunting thought that maybe choosing to go on this journey had been a mistake, it crossed Ayaka’s mind often in the dead of the night when Aether’s barely audible snores told her he was having a dreamless sleep for a change. But watching the peaceful expression on his face as in her mind she compared the colorful green scenery to the purple one she grew tired of as she drifted off too, Ayaka knew she made the right choice.

She had enough practice keeping up appearances and if by doing just that for one person meant she could stay on this precious adventure, then she was willing to play the part, Ayaka decided not long after. Bringing up the issue to the Traveler wasn’t worth the trouble just to cause unnecessary tension, nor to make Bennett uncomfortable when he hadn’t actually done anything other than treat her with respect.

Instead, with an imaginary agreement between them, they had fallen into a routine, one where it was easy for Ayaka to forget the young adventurer even existed, as if it were only her, Aether and Paimon on the road. When she was talking to them, Bennett made sure to stay away, as far as possible and when he needed to have a word with them, she’d give them space. And it seemed like an invisible weight had been lifted off of both of their shoulders.

If the Traveler noticed anything, he sure didn’t show any signs of it. His floating companion however managed to allude to the fact that the two teammates did not seem to get along, but she stopped questioning after not getting a confirmation about her suspicions. It also might’ve been left alone because once her attention shifted towards something else, other things quickly got abandoned.

So the four of them continued to journey through the land of contracts with their odd dynamic, and due to Liyue’s terrain it came to no one’s surprise when the ground caved underneath them. To be more precise, in the moment Ayaka was in fact, unprepared.

A few things were registering in her mind in the moment however, which she was glad for. One, she was sliding down at a rapid speed, two, a warm hand was gripping her wrist and three, a high pitched voice alongside a deeper one called out her name. Then as she reached what she assumed to be the bottom, way too easily in her opinion, a loud rumbling could be heard from above. With that, the previously clear voices were muffled and the bright sunny day was replaced with cold darkness.

Though, not for long. “Lady Ayaka,” she heard a voice she almost didn’t recognize from next to her as the cave she found herself in lit up instantly in a bright orange color. “Are you alright,” these words brought her back into the reality before she could’ve taken a good look at the boulder they were lucky enough not be crushed by.

“I’m,” began Ayaka slowly as she moved her legs and arms slightly, “fine,” she decided once it seemed like nothing was fractured. She wasn’t sure when Bennett stood up, or if he even fell over in the first place only to quickly get up, but she did take his offered hand to get back on to her feet.

Before she could get used to the feeling of the warmth however, the young adventurer already moved on, taking a step towards where Ayaka assumed they fell down from. “Aether,” he called to his friend a few times, aiming his sword higher as if the flames somehow could reach the outside world, “Aether!”

His vision didn’t allow for a familiar like Oz that he could’ve sent to the surface, nor a cool-looking wolf that could’ve appeared behind him to push the stone wall that was above them, so they were left with only Bennett’s echo and the pitter-patter of the last few pebbles that were making their way down, both of which quickly quieted down.

Realizing they had to resort to something else in order to escape, Bennett lowered his arm and inspected their newly found surroundings, and due to his occupation Ayaka expected him to do the only thing they could, in such a situation. “Let’s sit down and wait for help,” which is not what followed.

“But we have to let them know we’re okay,” blurted out Ayaka as she recalled how Aether said her name just moments before. She knew very well why he sounded so panicked and she was sure, as someone who had been traveling with him way longer, Bennett did too. “They are going to have an easier job finding us, if we just stay still,” came the stubborn reply as the adventurer took a seat on one of the larger rocks nearby.

And when he turned his head away, Ayaka was once again reminded of the many futile attempts she made to befriend the boy.

In the beginning, she did ask Bennett to stop with the kneeling and bowing, which he thankfully never repeated after the request. Back then, Ayaka was hoping that’d be the end of the formalities. Yet, whenever she approached him, even with questions about his homeland which she assumed he’d love to talk about, the boy became a stuttering or rather, mumbling mess. Asking Paimon who had been a witness to one of these occasions proved to be useful, because she informed her that Bennett wasn’t shy, just humble.

So logic dictated the root of it all had to be Ayaka herself. To not to be met with adoration was certainly odd, as almost every Inazuman loved her but she supposed it couldn’t be helped. Everyone had a choice, which might’ve been a weird concept to those who had been conditioned to glorify never changing perfection, but Ayaka was willing to try. She tried to swallow down the animosity that was aimed at her.

Honestly, out of all the people in Teyvat, she was glad it was him. The only person who gained Aether’s trust to the point where he was considered to be the core of their team, someone who was irreplaceable. Ayaka just wished his dislike for her wouldn’t manifest in the sweet politeness she knew all too well.

While reminiscing about just that, “if you’re hungry, I got some apples and-” spoke up Bennett with a tone Ayaka could recognize anywhere. She was offered street food, drinks and small trinkets many times before which were given to her with forced smiles even if she expressed she didn’t have a need or use for them. To be looked at as someone who needed to be pleased at all times made her cheeks heat up and in the moment of rashness Ayaka raised her head, ready to firmly tell Bennett off.

At least, that was the plan until her eyes landed on the bruised legs which were completely scratched up, presumably by the rocks. How he managed to accomplish that when Ayaka landed so safely remained a mystery, that is what she wanted to fool herself with as guilt bubbled up within her chest.

“Your legs,” she exclaimed, cutting off his rambling about what else he carried in his small bag that could be of use, “why didn’t you say something-I’ll help you bandage it up,” she moved closer and thanks to the ongoing flames she could see the red liquid already escaping the wounds. This is why he didn’t want to move-was his lack of want to explore explained.

Bennett did not answer immediately, something Ayaka was used to by now, and even then it was a simple, “oh,” as if a person could ignore the burning sensation with such an injury. “If it bothers you I can take care of it,” even though she did not look up, Ayaka could still see his shoulders rise in a shrug.

Despite the calm dismissal, Bennett shuffled his feet back until his heels touched the base of the very rock he was sitting on. As if he could hide it from her now.

Whether it was him trying to chalk it up as nothing or simply being tired of pushed away, Ayaka wasn’t sure, but she refused to let this one go. “You have a first aid kit, hand it over,” she demanded the tiny box she knew very well Bennett had with him, somewhere tucked away.

It paid off when Ayaka suppressed the surprise on her face caused by her own determination because the requested item was pulled out of the bag without much of a fuss, and Bennett’s silent obedience was met with satisfaction on her part. Unlike other instances, she had the upper hand this time and he was not even trying to argue his case. The fact he couldn’t walk off in a hurry probably worked in her favor.

Even with the dim lighting they had cleaning up remained easy, it only took a minute or two. Though, during the small timeframe Ayaka noticed how close they gotten, which was the closest they had ever been since starting their journey together. Due to this, the added anxiety made her hands shake, even if she couldn’t feel the gaze of the adventurer on her. She only hoped his current discomfort wasn’t going to be just another reason on the ever growing list of why he stayed away from her.

Thankfully, the legs didn’t budge as the contact was made to disinfect the wound, they remained as still as her brother did, whenever he was found in a similar situation with Thoma coming to his aid, while Ayaka watched from not that far away. Just like on those almost forgotten days, now too, Ayaka lifted her empty palms and concentrated cryo energy into her fingertips.

To the sudden touch, Bennett yelped and the sound was repeated through the walls of the cave the same way their friend’s name echoed earlier. “Sorry-” apologized Ayaka promptly, coming to the realization that the adventurer couldn’t have foreseen what she was planning on doing. Not like he was given the choice to refuse.

If Ayaka thought a bit more about what just transpired between them, it would’ve taken only a couple of seconds for her to be humbled by how incredibly rude she was being by forcing Bennett to accept her help in the first place. He was not one of her servants, waiting to be ordered around. “It didn’t hurt,” came his voice after his leg was lowered to the ground once more, “just didn’t expect it, apologies,” was his last word finished in an almost whisper.

Even if it did not sound like an invitation, Ayaka took it as one and put her hands near the scratched up knees again. This time, being prepared for the cool sensation the adventurer remained just as still as he did before, though, the flames of pyro beside them flickered every so often, in the much more familiar silence.

“It actually feels…nice,” admitted Bennett out of the blue. He was definitely onto something there, because the whole reason Ayaka ever thought about experimenting with her powers in such a way was due to reading countless books about the benefits of ice, as assassination attempts became a real threat the siblings had to wisen up to.

When the unfortunate time came to put knowledge to the test, Ayaka assumed Ayato was only trying to apologize for the scare by saying he didn’t feel any pain thanks to her. He hadn’t been bluffing. If applied in moderation, ice in of itself could help the recovery process, she came to learn. This alone didn’t turn her into a healer of course, deeper, more serious wounds still required many years of training in the medical field but in Ayaka’s mind, it was better to be prepared with something, no matter how small than to stand by and watch as someone you cared about bled out in front of you due to your impotence.

The situation wasn’t as dire right in this moment so Ayaka allowed her focus to shift bit by bit. For what reason, she did not know, Bennett decided to let his opinion slip past about something so insignificant and even more meaningless. Had he hit his head too, that he forgotten how even the most crucial information was delivered through gritted teeth, when it came to her?

Going from giving her the silent treatment on weeks on end to him willingly expressing what was on his mind, although it provided no use to their current predicament, was quite a switch in personality. So naturally, Ayaka’s curiosity was sparked. And as she continued to cool the reddened area with ice, she lifted her head carefully, just to see what else she’d find.

Has his eyes always been this shade of green, ran the questing through Ayaka’s brain instantly, drinking in the new sight. The bright color was almost identical to the one she grew used to seeing day after day in the Kamisato Estate, it was rather nostalgic as only now she realized that it’s been weeks since she last saw it. However that particular pair, belonged to another.

Since she wasn’t suited for judging the look in these eyes when they were much closer to being strangers than acquaintances, Ayaka hadn’t dared to analyze the emotions which she still childishly yearned to understand.

When Bennett’s head moved she was completely ready for him to somehow make this serene moment disappear, so Ayaka remained still as the pupils wandered from her busy hands to her face. No word came from the boy. To not test fate, she quickly ducked her head and dressed the bruised skin in bandages then stood up, dusting off her skirt as if she cared about looking presentable. “U-um, thank you, Lady Ayaka,” managed the adventurer who seemed to slowly regain his senses. It was forced, but listening closely, she could hear some softness behind the words.

‘You can call me Ayaka’ was on the tip of her tongue, however they were way past being on such terms, so instead she replied, “now we can move,” then gestured towards his sword, “and you can light the way.” Putting her hands together, showing a perfect smile she patiently waited until Bennett came to the conclusion that she wasn’t taking no for an answer. When the mutual understanding happened, the first aid kit was quickly returned to its rightful place.

Ayaka did feel some remorse for asking Bennett to take the lead when he was the injured one, however this was the only way she knew he’d listen. He needed to be motivated as separation was no state they could stay in and Ayaka refused to wait around for another landslide that could be avoided by simply acting.

Without the sunlight or a watch to measure time, it felt like everything around them ceased to exist. Aside from the sounds of their footsteps, the silence was deafening and the way they walked without sparing the other a glance of reassurance didn’t help much. Total isolation, is how Ayaka would describe the companionship she was currently stuck with.

At the very least, navigating the cave proved to be quite straightforward as the path refused to give them an alternative way, it didn’t split nor bend in any direction. Whether it was a good thing or not was answered with a lot more steps than expected, when they eventually arrived to the end of the tunnel somewhere deep underground.

In front of them stood a stone wall, a sight neither of them were new to. Without much hesitation Bennett brought his sword forward and attempted to pierce through it to make a passageway to which, the rock pile didn’t budge an inch.

That’s odd, Ayaka noted. They encountered blockades such as these before and all it took was a few hits to take it down. Based on how linear their walk had been, it was almost as if this place had been created for and used by humans. So why block the only exit, Ayaka wondered as she placed her palm against the unbreakable wall.

It was really warm, “it’s infused with pyro,” Bennett put the puzzle pieces together as Ayaka noticed, he too, observed the strange phenomenon the same way. She wasn’t going to question the statement as their current light source was more than enough proof of the adventurer’s knowledge about the element. This meant they needed something other than fire.

Knowing very well water was more effective, Ayaka still grabbed her own blade to test the durability of the rocks which she neatly coated with ice. As to be expected, the lack of hydro refused to make the process smooth, multiple hits were required before visible cracks showed up on the wall. Eventually though, it gave away and they could emerge victorious as light finally seeped into the darkness.

With the opening of the next section of the cave came unbearable heat, something Bennett immediately identified as if the sight of a large red flower wasn’t enough to ring the alarm bells inside of him. They needed to get out of there, and fast, was something he failed to communicate with the Inazuman girl as he once again gripped her wrist, to guide her. If they could just stick close to the side without waking up the creature, they had a chance to peacefully reach another passageway that Bennett knew was there.

Slowly and surely, is what the plan was, until a loud crunch under the adventurer’s boot garnered the attention of the Pyro Regisvine. “Run, run,” was Ayaka finally included in the plan that had existed only in Bennett’s mind up until that point.

This was fine, they could still make it. After all, the flower has just risen! It has yet to release the small fireballs and avoiding the wave of flames wasn’t hard either, at least Aether made it seem very easy to dodge. It was doable, kept Bennett repeating this to himself because there couldn’t be a reality where they didn’t make it out of here alive. Getting closer, Ayaka noticed a tiny white light seeping in, presumably from the outside world, and finally, with a goal in mind she could move her legs more confidently.

As if mocking them, the flower suddenly blocked the view they desired to reach with its head, as it slammed down into the ground. It’s going to spin this way, Ayaka made a rough calculation but didn’t have the time to make sure she was right. Tugging back Bennett who had been slower to react, they managed to avoid the attack, only barely. This way we never make it back to him, appeared the fan in Ayaka’s hand out of frustration, “Kamisato Art, Soumetsu!”

After the quick, blinding icy storm, the warmth still lingered, but it became much more bearable. Despite this, Ayaka held onto her transformed weapon which she slowly moved back and forth, out of muscle memory. “That-how did you-” the sudden voice reminded her she wasn’t completely alone. That’s right, Bennett was still very much next to her.

A little surprise was to be expected as it had been a while since she let out her power in such a way, though the lack of practice was nothing to be proud of. However that didn’t stop Ayaka from being pleased with how efficiently the threat had been eliminated. So she stood just a tad bit taller, glancing over to the boy who seemed to be loss for words.

“That-was…amazing,” exploded Bennett once he could articulate what he had in mind, “the Regisvine didn’t stand a chance-I mean, Aether defeated it very fast too but you just, just moved your hand and whoosh-it was out cold in a sec’,” he kept adding details as if Ayaka had not been present herself. She might as well not have been, since what caught the adventurer’s interest was paid no attention to by her, as it was nothing special.

What was out of the ordinary however, sparkling eyes and a ridiculously big smile from the adventurer next to her. All of it was welcomed of course, yet the fan in her hand had been brought ever closer to her face. “Barbara often came with us and she could knock it out, but it would get up after a while,” went on the boy, even leaning forward in his enthusiasm.

“She’s my very good friend, you see, she works as a Deaconess in Mondstadt and I often…o-oh,” trailed off Bennett suddenly, probably realizing who he was currently addressing. Bringing up a hand to his neck, his gaze lowered to the floor. The adventurer’s brows furrowed deeply, then he opened his mouth only to close it once more.

What was he trying to come up with so badly wondered Ayaka who remained patient as always, in the hopes of chasing away whatever blocked him from continuing. “Ayaka, Bennett,” a high pitched voice made their heads turn into a certain direction, then both of them were enveloped into a tight embrace, forgetting everything within a moment. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” mumbled Aether into their shoulders.

“You guys scared Paimon so much,” spoke up the little fairy once her smaller arms found a way to hug her teammates too. “Didn’t mean to, sorry,” replied Bennett and understanding the weight of what exactly his companion implied, Aether let go of it easily, “it’s alright,” he whispered before giving one last squeeze to both of them and advised to leave the area before trouble found them again.

Flowers that regained health after being defeated was not what Ayaka expected to learn about in the land of geo but she did not want to stick around to see it for herself after the encounter. She was just very glad, that the pyro energy mixing with her ice gave the Traveler an easier way to find them. If roles were reversed, Ayaka wouldn’t have been so sure which way to head especially in an unknown terrain.

Under the blue sky she also learned they haven’t really lost as much time as assumed and could still reach Mondstadt by nightfall. Being the caring person he is, Aether offered to make a stop at the nearby inn, delaying their arrival. Paimon agreed, not only because the image of warm dinner was already clouding her judgement, completely wiping her memory of the dangerous predicament from before but because it was less of a hassle.

As Ayaka weighted the options with care, her determination to reach Mondstadt refused to waver. Giving her reply, she kept to herself that she didn’t wish to hinder the Traveler just because she wasn’t looking at where she was stepping. Aether nodded along approvingly as he claimed he wouldn’t mind an extra hour of walking if it meant they’d reach their destination as planned. With that being said, there was one last member left who hadn’t given their opinion on the matter.

Glancing over the adventurer, who was now back to keeping at least five steps away from the group, came a voice matching the serious look on his face. “Whatever you guys want, it’s fine by me,” offered Bennett despite Paimon giving him the biggest eyes she could manage. Since two of the four votes didn’t match meant the plan to make it to Mondstadt was back on the menu, the team decided to not waste the daylight.

Paimon of course loudly expressed how unfair the voting was at which Bennett just sighed, attempting to brush her off. When she came to tug on the back of his shirt complaining, Bennett let her know they would’ve been tied so it wouldn’t have made a difference. The tiny fairy of course took it as him siding with the Traveler and Ayaka and flew ahead to her companion’s side with a loud huff.

The latter glanced over at their teammate who was trailing behind them keeping a lengthy distance, the memory of a person that had been underneath his exterior still fresh on her mind.  Whether or not Bennett was intentionally looking at the sky which was now starting to be colored in pink and orange, he hadn’t shown the slightest hint if he noticed. Seemingly the words he had for Ayaka were left back in that cave, along with the Pyro Regisvine. So Ayaka moved her head forward.

Dwelling on missed opportunities was not something she wanted for this journey.

As the ever green land came into view, the Traveler’s whole demeanor was washed over by nostalgia, even passing his cheery mood onto his other teammates with how he moved with a spring in his step. Being more familiar with every nook and cranny of the land, he lead them to the city of freedom without any interruptions coming their way.

People nodded, waved and greeted Aether with warm smiles, ones that made Ayaka’s eyes glint at the welcoming faces wistfully. It also didn’t slip by her how the adventurer behind them was offered the same treatment, as if he was walking alongside the Traveler. It’s like Aether read Ayaka’s thoughts because he stilled, spun around on his heels waiting for the last member of their team to catch up.

“Gonna do the usual, right,” asked the outlander his longest known teammate. There was an automatic nod from Bennett, “you know it, see you later,” was the glowed hand raised giving a small wave. Ayaka was lost on what just transpired between the two, although she hadn’t had a second to spare to decipher it as golden eyes fixated on her. “Shall we have dinner, I have a few places in mind,” Aether offered an arm with already listing off the restaurants with the best menus. If their floating companion hadn’t chimed in, Ayaka surely would’ve been rooted to place, lost in the moment.

The tables were close, the atmosphere was cramped even though not many people were dining, yet Ayaka wouldn’t have had it any other way. The late night bustle helped to muffle her conversation with her teammates from prying ears and the food was simply good as it was expected of the modest city of freedom.

Neither of them were surprised when they found themselves in one of the Guild’s dorms after their meal, already nestling into the sheets. Murmuring a good night to each other, silence fell over the room. Paimon’s snores were the first to reach Ayaka’s ears and as she laid there, hoping the Traveler would soon join the pixie in her slumber.

The wait was worth it, since as soon as the quiet breaths left the Traveler’s mouth, so too did Ayaka’s held breath release. Tilting her head she could see his form curled around the tiniest travel companion, face having gone soft. Ayaka has shifted, now completely turning to her side as she often did. Waiting, for something. She was happy to be left with nothing but slow steady breaths.

Although she could’ve been satisfied with this alone, Ayaka still pulled off the covers and placed the tip of her toes onto the floor, scurrying over to the other side. Not daring to get closer, she kneeled next to the bed, studying the expression from up close. Was he truly sleeping as soundly as it appeared, Ayaka wondered. Even if he showed no signs of discomfort, her chest remained tight while looking for clues.

A click from the doorknob broke Ayaka’s concentration and if it were any other person she would’ve felt she was caught red handed in that moment. But the Inazuman girl knew better than that, Bennett wouldn’t converse with her. Maybe he’d suggest going to sleep but wouldn’t press the issue if she refused. What he was doing here in the dead of the night was another matter entirely.

“Has he woken at all,” was whispered after Bennett stopped next to her. He was here to check on Aether too, Ayaka realized as she answered with the shake of her head. The adventurer in response folded his arms over his chest, a movement that crumpled his loose shirt.

In the calmness Ayaka found herself wondering how long they’ll be stay like this, sharing a moment of protectiveness over the only thing actually connecting them. Nights like these one of their presence would overpower the other based on what their friend needed. Often it was Bennett who won that race. But this time, no competition was required. Not as long as the Traveler’s eyes remained closed.

She was ready to keep it that way, in that tiny room where just two beds were placed. It was Ayaka’s turn. Yet, Bennett walked in like it was his place to be, filling the void where she couldn’t be. With a well practiced delicacy the Traveler’s hand which had been hanging off to the side was placed back onto the mattress, tucked under the blanket. A loose hair strand was also brushed away before it could get any closer to his nose. Then, the adventurer withdrew as a content look shown up on his face.

Perhaps he was admiring the touches Ayaka couldn’t bring herself to do. She knew, deep down she did too.

So what now? Was he going to take over, she looked up at Bennett. He had to have known Ayaka wouldn’t get up from there until her own nerves were put at ease. Was there anything to say, something she could offer to justify her stance on keeping an eye on Aether? If not to Bennett, then at least to herself.

Being adjusted to the darkness by now the familiarity of the situation made her forget how she should keep facing forward. In the past weeks no matter how many times she told herself what she should do her attention was drawn back over and over, never learning the lesson and remaining just as naive. This is how Ayaka came to face those green eyes once more.

“Well,” came the voice from him with a baited breath as he plopped down next to her, “then let’s make sure it stays that way,” Bennett used a softer tone. There was no me or I, or an us in the sentence. Still, Ayaka felt included in it.

So the reply came quick. “Yes,” she affirmed the adventurer’s words, not missing the nervous smile on his lip. “Aether will sleep peacefully,” Ayaka told Bennett with certainty. There were a lot more she had on the tip of her tongue that didn’t involve their friend’s condition. Neither was said to preserve the quiet of the room.

Then as the soft puffs of air left the Traveler, Ayaka found some boldness laying around and placed her head on the nearby shoulders. From this position she could see the bandages clearly. And when there was a warmth on her back, returning the gesture, Ayaka let out a barely audible sigh too. The picutre she envisioned in her head didn't live up to the dream. Maybe it wasn't even obtainable.

However the fragmented pieces already started to form something after the day's events. It was going to lead somewhere eventually. And Ayaka was going to wait for the end result, with reignited hope.

Notes:  Hey, if you made it this far thanks for reading! I'm not the best at writing but this was fun to make and I've been working on it for quite some time now, hope you enjoyed.

A few tidbits about the fic; This is set sometime after the Inazuma story.Why is Bennett so unfriendly to Ayaka in this fic?

Bennett IS nice to Ayaka, however due to him being a magnet of bad luck, bad experiences and the combination of Ayaka being a noble he decides to keep his distance. He's actually nice to Ayaka just doesn't want to be near her to cause problems. As explained in the fic he's just distant but still polite and mindful. Why didn't Aether say anything if he noticed Bennett's behavior? At this point in this fic Bennett has been a long time companion of his, Aether trusts him and knows of his struggles. Aether won't force Bennett to get along with Ayaka and respects if he wishes to stay away, even if he wants them to get along. Also Aether knows Bennett won't hurt Ayaka so he just lets it be and hopes for the best. Does Ayaka hate being in Inazuma and being the Shirasagi Himegimi? No, I feel like these are the things she still cherishes even if it gives her a headache sometimes. But also I feel like a part of her wants to shed the title and just be herself, and it frustrates her. It's a new thing she learns about herself-that she can feel anger towards it because Bennett is a person she has to deal with constantly. It's different than being out on the street for one hour talking to people and acting proper vs. not being able to escape it since it's her teammate doing it. I'm going to be honest, I'm not 100% familiar with Ayato's personality he feels like a mystery to me still even after reading his lore, but I feel like it's beliveable that he had weaker moments in his life, that he slipped up once or twice. That is not me saying he's weak but the siblings did lose their parents relatively young. So I feel like young Ayato could've been emotionally hurt for a while as in the fic he did not allow Ayaka to hold a sword until he grieved properly. It's not meant as dramatic moment in their life like Ayato yelling 'you'll never fight because I don't want to lose you too'. And I definitely think even if he's skilled at fighting he could still retain a few scratches in the past. And Ayaka learning about taking care of wounds feels like something she would do, or have studied about. Aether has nightmares about losing his sister, Ayaka and Bennett both know since it can't be hidden if they travel with him as he woken them up by accident a few times. It's not constant but it can get bad. This is why Ayaka is so worried and annoyed when Bennett just wants to sit and wait in the cave. She doesn't want Aether to feel like he lost his teammates like he lost his sister and have to deal with bad nights for a couple of days. Ayaka has a slight crush on Aether, but it's not love. It's more about Aether being her first friend and her not having sort her feelings on the matter yet since it's so new. To her it feels like it's love so that's why she put Aether into a different category than friends and this is why Bennett's friendship is a big deal. But she still treats Aether as a friend. Bennett isn't crushing on Ayaka, however he feels deep love and admiration for Aether.

[enneamage]

Note: This was in the drafts a while before anything was announced, so while it may seem like it was brought on by recent events it was actually a rant that was composed a while ago. I can see that things are already softening on this front as people have had to re-visit the way that they use the word 'parasocial', but since most of this still stands I figured it would be okay as-is.

I’m not deep enough into sociology or social psychology to know what other terms exist for the million-plus things put under the ‘parasocial’ umbrella, but I know that word is overworked and misunderstood, stacked on top of the implicit judgement behind it. We’re currently playing ‘you parasocial you loose,’ as though having any relationship to a celebrity beyond a weird spartan business transaction is a sign of mental illness. Things can go off the rails, that’s always a possibility, but this is a huge concept we’re talking about.

I’m basically tired of watching people call other people ‘crazy’ for things that have a long standing precedent. Inconvenient for some of the people involved, sure, but the audience-celebrity interpersonal landscape is really old if you know where to look. People have looked to public figures to be symbols of things that they want or want to believe in for most of human history. Most people relate to at least one other person as a mix of a person and a symbol in some way. People look for people to put their hope and happiness in all the time. This is really, really normal, and ironically it’s been pathologized by people who don’t pay enough attention to ordinary life to notice it.

I think this is something that scares people because it doesn’t act like one-to-one interaction, so everyone is just ‘being weird.’ I don’t relate to internet celebrities the way I would my actual friends, I relate to them like internet celebrities. The problem is that how people relate to celebrity figures is a kaleidoscopic mindfuck by most social standards; some people see something important that they want to believe exists in the world, some people see a version of themselves, some people just want to invest in someone to make life feel more exciting. It's a personal desire inkblot test, and as long as people proceed with a good amount of self-awareness usually it works just fine.

“The brain can’t tell the difference between life and the internet so people think celebrities are their friends” is just not true, and it comes from bad brain science reporting. We are not that good at figuring out what the brain is doing at any given moment, even in our most advanced studies, but that means that things are too complex, not uncomplex. The grain of truth in it is that people do tend to bond with people that they feel are in their proximity, but this softening also happens through storytelling like television and books. It’s probably a good thing that humans have this trait, otherwise we would have reduced each other to ketchup thousands of years ago.

I think there’s a difference between “I literally perceive this person to be my friend” and “the positive feelings I have for this person could be classified as companionate, therefore I’m using friend-based language.” I am aware that I personally wouldn't treat or think of someone that I know as a Content Creator as a literal friend, and honestly I wouldn’t want to- if I wanted 'reality', I really would go outside. Sometimes I want something else :P. However, I understand (and have been) people who have used CC’s as sunlamps in hard or isolated times and have a lot of goodwill for them in that form. None of this is inherently evil.

Some people will have boundary issues, but that’s a separate problem from the very existence of a parasocial relationship. People who have struggled with socialisation will be like that in most aspects of their lives, not just because they got online. Some will reach beyond reasonable boundaries for a variety of reasons, and it can be problematic in a variety of ways, but the problem starts long before they log on and start watching content.  It takes emotional self-awareness to be able to sort companionate feelings from a companionate reality, which is a learned skill in all individuals.

Idealisation is natural, actually. All the standard relationship advice applies, but it’s something we’re wired to be predisposed to.“You’re experiencing parasocial delusions and projecting your desires”—it’s a crush, you silly goose, a celebrity crush. A good ammount of this 'madness' is a cousin of crush psychology, platonic or otherwise. Someone doesnt even need to be in parasocial proximity to develop a crush, they can be right up on the other person, it doesn’t make a difference.

I remember I was explaining these concepts to someone older, which always forces me to strip away the toxic internet gunk holding the concept up to make it understandable. When I explained that she would be mocked or belittled for having a friendly, positive regard for Yoga With Adriene, she was rightfully baffled. I also explained that people aren’t allowed to have celebrity crushes anymore, which she also found sad.

People like to take jabs at each other online for not behaving ‘normally.’ Let me tell you, when I went out into the world and finally touched that grass everybody was talking about, I was pissed that I had let my sense of normal and abnormal get warped by equally online people who claimed to know what 'normal' life looked like. The way people use the word “parasocial” right now is loaded, and carries way to many paradoxes in what it expects from people. Ultimately, it measures things against a baseline of normalcy that was invented by people who have a much narrower understanding of the world than they think they do.

[wkemeup]

The Offer

summary: Zemo offers to sell the Winter Soldier in exchange for information. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 3k warnings: vaguely implied unwanted sexual contact a/n: this is based around the Madripoor scene in TFATWS ep 3, particularly Zemo’s suggestion of “he will do anything you want.”

“You must maintain your cover,” Zemo’s voice rang in your ear, drowning out the heavy bass of loudspeakers from the club down the hall. “If you break character, they will know... and they will kill us.”

You held your breath; arms folded tight across your chest, nails digging into the exposed skin on your biceps. It did little to ease the strain within your muscle as you watched Bucky standing guard at the edge of the room, his eyes overcast in a cold, emotionless haze. Ready for command. Empty of the needs and desire that made him human. Portraying the shadow from his past he was so desperate to escape.

Slowly, you shifted your weight on heels sharp enough to pierce skin. The clothes Zemo had dressed you in were unforgiving, exposing every dip and curve on your body, though you supposed that was his intention. You were meant assume the role of a wealthy arms dealer known only as Lilith, a woman whose reputation for the bedrooms of Madripoor outweighed even that of the weapons at her disposal. An affinity for the finer things in life, Zemo had snickered to himself. Sex, drugs, and power.

Bucky’s eyes shifted to the floor near your feet. You could tell he was watching you from his peripherals though his expression remained vacant. It was shocking to see him like this again, worse that he seemed to fall back into the role of the Winter Soldier so easily – like he’d never truly believed he could put his past to rest at all.

Zemo paced at the center of the room, discussing terms while Selby lounged on the couch. Her brazen comfort in a room of powerful agents on the dark market told you she had more leverage than any of you anticipated. You felt for the slight weight of the gun strapped at your thigh, keeping careful watch of the guards stationed just outside the door. The four of you were easily outnumbered and outgunned, even with Bucky throwing himself back to the Winter Soldier.

Sam caught your eye across the room, his face stern enough to communicate his uncertainty. He didn’t trust Zemo anymore than you did. The man was responsible for dozens of deaths, including the King of Wakanda, and he’d done the Avengers no favors by planting a seed of war between the most powerful people on the planet. You tried not to follow Sam's gaze when his eyes flickered to Bucky, a softening in his brow to see months of progress virtually erased within seconds.

“What’s the offer?” Selby’s voice broke through the haze. You hadn’t realized how focused you’d been on Bucky until you began to notice the music thumping through the walls and the scent of stale beer lining the floors – a disorienting state amongst precious stole artifacts and original paintings.

Zemo stood from his chair, crossing the room. He picked up a relic from the center table, admiring the shiny copper edges as he tossed it in the air. It nearly slipped from his grip and he shuttered out an apologetic wince at Selby before placing it back on the table. You rolled your eyes.

Adjusting the fur lined collar of his jacket, Zemo circled the edges of the room. He came to a pause over Bucky’s shoulder, gaze slowly trailing down his frame, tracing over the lines on Bucky's face as if he were studying for imperfections. A sinister smirk curled at his lips before he turned back to Selby.

“Tell us what you know about the super soldier serum,” Zemo bargained, waiting for her interest to peak before he continued. She shifted in her seat; a brow raised. His lips curved in a devious grin enough to make your stomach twist. “And we’ll give you him. Along with the code words to control him, of course.”

Bucky didn’t so much as flinch, his stare maintaining the same emptiness you saw the day on the bridge when he’d been muzzled by his captors and made to be a weapon. Nothing in his expression gave way to whatever was going through his mind and part of you wondered if he’d allowed himself so far into this role again, that he’d embraced the cold arms of the numbness it carried. It was easier than allowing himself to feel any of the rage that was rapidly boiling under your skin, you supposed.

But then, Zemo’s knuckles grazed at Bucky’s cheek. Lingering over unshaven stubble, a shadow along his jaw. A delicate touch though it seemed to burn as if steam could rise from the contact alone.

Zemo turned, grinning at Selby. “He will do anything you want.”

It was so impossibly subtle, you weren’t sure anyone else had noticed, but Bucky’s jaw clenched. The muscle shifted the shadows on his face, his breathing coming to a stop as his chest no longer carried the steady rise and fall under layers of leather and Kevlar. Zemo’s hand moved along Bucky’s jaw, fingers dangerously close to his lips, and you felt for the outline of the gun strapped to your thigh.

"Anything?" Selby inquired. Her tone was even though her eyes widened just enough, the dark of her pupils expanding as she glanced over Bucky's frame.

"When he is properly activated, the Soldier is incredibly–" Zemo paused, tapping the edge of Bucky's chin, "–eager to please. There's nothing else inside that brain of his except his mission. What that mission is, is entirely up to whoever recites the triggers."

“Fascinating,” Selby grinned as she slowly stood from her perch.

You followed her stride with every agonizing step towards Bucky. Just as she crossed in front of The Smiling Tiger, Sam’s gaze met yours. He narrowed his eyes, the slight shake in his head barely noticeable. He must have seen you reach for your gun – an instinct to protect Bucky from the demons of his past, a tangible weapon you hadn't been able to use against the monsters in his sleep. It took every ounce of your strength to relax away from the comforting metal.

You watched as Selby’s eyes roamed over Bucky – hungry, and like a vulture, she licked her lips. As she began to circle his frame, gaze trailing down from his shoulders, to his thighs, down to his feet, never once daring to meet his eyes, you found yourself inching closer. Bucky’s hand curled into a fist so tight his nails broke skin in his right hand, blood prickling at his palm. And still—his expression remained stoic, unfeeling. A paralyzing thought crossed your mind and you questioned if this dance was a familiar one – the art of being sold to another human being.

Selby paused as she faced him; examining the features on his face as if he were something other than human – a prize to be won, a possession to own, a trophy to show off.

“And he’s still in working condition? After all these years?” she inquired toward Zemo, standing so dangerously close to Bucky. His stare focused straight ahead, far beyond the wall across the room as if he could burn holes into the plaster.

"He's quite impressive," Selby murmured. Slowly, her hand reached towards his face.

Your grip was around her wrist before anyone realized you’d crossed the room. She flinched, startled by the vice-like hold wrapped around her wrist and a pained sort of whine escaped. She flexed her fingers and still, you held your ground.

“Is there a problem, Lilith?” Selby smirked, curiosity glaring as her eyes flickered between you and Bucky. You said nothing and yet, her lips parted in understanding. “Oh, I see. You control him. Don’t you, dear? He belongs to you.”

You tasted bile on your tongue – the very thought of owning Bucky as if his agency was not even in question made you sick to your stomach. Your grip tightened on Selby’s wrist and you would have broken it clean in two if you had the strength for it. But one look at Zemo and the cautious gaze upon his face, and you forced yourself to swallow back the venom in your mouth. You didn’t allow the disgust to touch your features or the shame to burn hot into your neck. Lilith would not be fazed by the selling of a weapon—even if that weapon were a man with heart so heavy, so full and so kind, he could hardly carry its burden on his own.

“Make your deal, Selby,” you hissed in an accident belonging to the weapons dealer you portrayed, “then, you can play with your toy. Until we have our intel, hands off the product.”

You released Selby’s wrist and she stepped back a few paces. She slid her left hand over the red marks forming over her skim, gingerly massaging at the area and still – the grin did not falter from her cheeks. Impressed, intrigued. She seemed inclined to ask you more about your bond to the Winter Soldier when you stepped in front of Bucky, blocking her view as she unabashedly stared down her hopeful new possession. Sam and Zemo exchanged a glance, though their expressions did not carry the weight their eyes did.

Behind you, you could hear Bucky exhale a heavy a breath, could practically feel as his fists released to be out of the woman’s eye line. It was short lived, of course, as all things in Madripoor were. A gunshot pierced through the window and lodged itself into Selby’s head.

***

You woke with a sudden start, the sticky smell of stale beer still on your skin as you jolted up on an unfamiliar bed. The room was vaguely a blur thanks to the pounding ache in the back of your head, but you could see enough to know it was not a place you recognized. To your left, the bed was untouched; sheets perfectly pressed as if they’d never been laid in at all. Glancing down, you saw you were still wearing the dress from the club, makeup smeared over your face and onto the pillows. You brushed at your cheeks to remove the mascara stains.

At the end of the bed, laid a fresh pair of clothes. Blue jeans and a black pullover. You sighed, pressing a hand over the soft fabric and bringing it to your face. It smelled of lavender and vanilla – fresh and inviting compared to the sweaty stale air of the night club.

The night before was mostly a blur. You didn’t remember much after Selby was killed; only Bucky’s hands on your waist, pulling you back towards the door as you tried to locate the shooter. You’d kicked off your heels and sprinted next to him in your bare feet – a man who could challenge the speed of moving vehicles and he was running in line with you and Sam while gunshots reined from every direction. Self-preservation was not a concept in Bucky’s vocabulary.

Your feet were bloodied by the time you caught your breath again and within the impossibly small moment you took to pause, an assailant had knocked you out from behind. Cold darkness. Instantaneously. After that, you could only catch vague memories of Bucky lifting you into his arms and Sharon Carter’s voice. But you hadn’t seen Sharon in years. Not since the aftermath of Vienna. The theory didn’t make much sense.

You felt along the dresser for your gun, only to find it empty. With a tired groan, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, hoping you could find Bucky or Sam before you found trouble. Your feet were wrapped in bandages carrying a slight pink color on the soles – courteous of Zemo’s ridiculous heels you’d left behind the chaos and the mile worth of pavement you’d run barefoot on.

The chill of the hardwood floors was a relief on the undersides of your feet, but you hadn’t accounted for the dizziness from your concussion to take over once you stood. The room went dark and you began to sway, trying to feel for the bed behind you, when suddenly you hard footsteps rushing into the room.

“Hey, hey, what are you doing out of bed?” Bucky’s arms wrapped at your waist, holding you steady. He guided you back to the bed, helping you to sit on the edge as you regained your vision. He sat down beside you, keeping a hand on your arm to help ground you as you focused on the permanence of the room, the sturdiness of solid ground.

“What happened?” you sighed, pressing your palms to your eyes. Your head was still ringing from the blow you took the night before. When you finally allowed yourself to adjust to the sunlight in the room, you turned to face Bucky. He was dressed in a plan black t-shirt and jeans; his Winter Soldier attire hung in the corner of the room.

“Sharon happened,” Bucky chuckled with a short shake of his head. You thought you might be surprised at his answer, and somehow, you weren’t at all. Bucky softened, his fingers brushing at the hem of your dress. “You should change into something more comfortable. Sharon left some clothes for you but um... you were pretty out of it last night and I didn’t want to... um...”

“Thank you, Bucky.” You smiled at him as you placed your hand on top of his. You squeezed at his fingers, curling under his palm against your thigh. For a moment, you nearly lost yourself in the sunlit reflection of blue within his eyes – the delicate intricacies of a complex man. So impossibly sweet and kind in the daylight; cold as stone in the night under the guise of the Winter Soldier.

Bucky helped you to stand, giving you time to adjust to the sting of healing wounds on the soles of your feet. He turned his back to give you privacy, though he kept close enough that you could grab hold of his shoulder for support. He pushed the clothes down the bed for you to reach easily.

Slowly, ignoring the ache in your body, you slid the zipper down your spine, letting the dress fall to a heap at your feet. You tried not to notice how Bucky’s shoulders tightened at the sound, his stance a little less balanced at the fallen fabric. Gingerly, you dressed yourself in the jeans and pullover Sharon had provided for you, trying to stifle a wince as you shifted on your feet. Bucky’s head tilted at your whimper, his instinct fighting to turn to you, to help you, but he held himself still.

When you were done, you reached for the necklace at your bedside, one you hadn’t worn on the mission but you carried it with you wherever you went – the last token you had of a distant life before the Avengers. Sam had kept it in his pocket in Madripoor.

“Would you mind?” you called softly, tapping a hand against Bucky’s shoulder. He turned cautiously, almost timid in his movements, and you smiled at him as he held his hand out. The delicate gold chain dropped into his palm – a beautiful contrast to the black metal, in mirror to the detailing work along his shoulder.

Before you could turn your back to him, Bucky stepped closer. He held each side of the necklace in his hands and brought them around the back of your neck. This close, you could smell the bar soap he’d used that morning, you could see the lines of scruff along his jaw he hadn’t been able to shave.

When he clasped the chain, he stepped back slowly, but only enough to admire his work. He brushed your hair away from your collar, a ghosted smile on his lips at he touched the pendent at the center. This wonderful, beautiful man who learned to find comfort in touch again, who sought you out when it felt impossible to reclaim that part of him. Memory of the night before etched into your mind and you swallowed back the lump in your throat.

“Bucky?”

He smiled a little wider, focused on tracing his fingers along your jaw, brushing away your hair. “Yeah?”

“Do you want to talk about last night?”

Bucky paused, his touch upon you skin turning near to stone before he pulled away. The smile he’d worn slowly faded from his lips, the cold rush of reality piercing through the tender moment, and you hated yourself for being the cause of such pain. Bucky sighed, sinking down onto the bed, his hands gripped tight to the edge of the mattress.

“Not sure there’s much to say, doll,” Bucky exhaled.

You sat beside him, close enough for your thigh to brush in line with his. He looked down at the little space between you, his eyes fluttered closed at the contact – the grounding sensation of welcomed touch.

“You're not him anymore, Bucky,” you said softly, setting your hand over his own. “No one is ever going to control you or... or own you again, okay? They can’t make you do anything you don’t want to... not anymore. You’re free. You know that, don’t you?”

Bucky nodded, though it was slow, almost aching. He squeezed at your hand, pushing out a pained smile as he looked at you. “I do.”

You reached towards him with your free hand, cupping the side of his cheek where Zemo had touched him the night before. You traced your thumb over his jaw line, tingling over the short hairs on his skin. So beautiful and lovely after decades suffering under the hands of cruel men.

“You know I’d kill anyone who tried, right?”

Bucky chuckled at that and you were grateful to see the lines by his eyes again, the smile pushing bright into his cheeks. “Yeah, sweetheart. I know that, too.”

He leaned forward a pressed a kiss to your temple. Short and lingering and not nearly long enough. But it was welcomed and warm and enough.

—

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[beels-burger-babe]

Try it, I Dare You

*** Greetings! So this little fic is part of Familial Attachments which I wrote ages ago. I randomly got inspired by Big Bro! Lucifer and decided to branch off of it. Quick reminder that this MC is not a Teen! MC and therefore not underage. Thanks, everyone for the love and support! This fic is a long one. -B ***

Summary: As Lucifer forms a more familial bond with MC, the other brothers find themselves falling for the human romantically. Lucifer notes the changes in his brother's intentions and is not pleased.

Gaining you as an honorary little sibling was one of the best things to ever happen to Lucifer.

It gave him someone he could open up to, someone to fawn over, someone he could be soft with.

This change in dynamic between you and Lucifer had caused a number of things to change in the House of Lamentation in general.

You and Lucifer had become practically attached to the hip. Where you went, it seemed he wasn't far behind. The other brothers had joked that he had degraded himself to be your guard dog (a comment that had them all scrubbing the entirety of the hall's floors with their own toothbrushes), and in all honesty, he sort of had. Lucifer spent more time outside of his office, and would instead do his work in the lounge, where he could personally keep an eye on you.

It was this extra time around you that had caused Lucifer to begin to notice things.

It began, as most problems within the house do, with Mammon.

You had been talking with Mammon on the couch as Lucifer quietly did paperwork in the background.

He hadn't been listening in on the conversation (as frankly, it was none of his concern and you did deserve your own privacy), but your bright laugh had momentarily caught his attention.

When he glanced over, he saw you double over, nearly in tears from something Mammon had apparently said. It was nice.

What wasn't so nice, was the openly soft, adoring look that he was giving you under the knowledge that you weren't looking. His cheeks were dusted visibly flushed as his eyes glistened with affection.

Lucifer's eyes narrowed as the expression quickly disappeared once you turned to face Mammon once more and continue your conversation.

Paying closer attention now, he noted how Mammon's hand was draped over the back of the couch, his fingertips ghosting over the tops of your shoulders. A fond smirk remained glued on his face as he watched you talk passionately, and didn't even make an attempt to interrupt you as he would with most people.

Most damning, however, was the fact that the blush never quite left his face.

Lucifer pressed his lips into a thin line.

Mammon quite clearly had romantic interests in you, and that just wouldn't do.

It wasn't that Lucifer didn't trust you to know what's best for yourself. No. He knew that you were exceedingly clever and did, in fact, trust you to make your own choices. It was precisely why he hadn't done anything about Asmodeus's hollow flirtations, or Satan's teasing, or Belphegor's sleepovers. He knew that if you were truly bothered by it, you were more than capable of getting them to leave you alone.

He didn't, however, trust his brothers with you.

With the new pathway of thinking that Mammon's actions had opened that day, Lucifer had noticed that Mammon was not alone in his not-so-innocent intentions with you.

In fact, it appeared that you had captured the hearts of each of his brothers.

It was all too obvious to him now.

Satan's hands lingering on yours as he passed you books. Asmodeus's comments being less shallow and materialistic and more personal and sentimental. Levi's awe-filled eyes, being fixed on you rather than the games the two of you played. Belphegor, cracking open an eye to peer up at you when you weren't looking as he "slept" on your lap. Beel's fidgeting and blush as he asked you to help him work out. Mammon practically melting whenever you ruffled his hair; even as he protested and swatted at your hands.

Lucifer cursed his past self for being so oblivious.

Perhaps the worst part of all of this is that you, the innocent pure soul that you were, were completely oblivious to all of their advances. You would simply giggle or brush it off entirely as just one of the many weird things that his brothers did.

It was unacceptable.

Lucifer, although he seldom admitted it, loved his brothers. He truly did. But he also knew how reckless, moronic, and just overall dangerous they could all be. You deserved better than that. It was for this reason that Lucifer had made it his personal mission to put an end to these revolting advances.

-

Asmodeus smiled as he practically skipped over to where you were reading in the living room, "Hey MC," he draped his arms over your shoulder from behind and nestled his chin on top of your head. "What are you doing today?"

You chuckled and moved your head to gaze up at the bubbly demon. "Good morning, Asmo. I'm not doing much. Just relaxing, I guess. Why?"

Asmo could feel his smile widen at the information. He had been trying to get you all to himself all week, but there was always someone else around or something else that you had to do. Now was his chance!

He hummed as he snaked around the chair to face you. "Then that means you're free to spend the day shopping with your truly!" He shot off a cheeky wink to end it all off.

Asmo felt his heart flutter as your eyes glittered in excitement at his words. "I'd love to Asmo! Just let me gather a few things and we'll-"

"Ah! MC. Are you heading out for the day?"

All the light and warmth that Asmodeus had been feeling instantly plummeted as Lucifer entered the room. His brother was obviously trying to play it off as though he hadn't orchestrated this, not even looking at the two of them as he thumbed through a few papers in his hands, but Asmodeus knew better.

You, however, were none the wiser.

You practically lit up as Lucifer walked into the room. "Yeah! Asmodeus invited me to go shopping with him. We're probably going to be gone for the better part of the day," Asmodeus's bad mood caused by his brother's presence softened as you looked back at him.

Asmo plastered on a smile and wrapped an arm around your shoulder while glared sharply at Lucifer. He hoped that maybe this time he'd actually take the hint and leave everything alone. "Was there something you needed, big brother? Or are you just here to grace us with your presence?"

Asmodeus regretted his words, as the moment he saw them, Lucifer smiled sharply, like a cat who'd just captured its prey. "Well, since you asked, Asmodeus, I was hoping the two of you could pick up a few things for me," Lucifer began to list off rare item after rare item. Asmo could nothing but watch as the dread in his stomach grew heavier and heavier.

You chuckled nervously as Lucifer reached what had to be the twentieth item. "That's quite a bit, Lucifer. I don't think I'd be able to remember it all, and even if I did, I don't know where to begin looking for half of the things you listed," your face scrunched up adorably in thought before you snapped and looked up at the two demons. "I know! Why doesn't Lucifer come with us! That way he'll be able to get his things, and we all can spend time together. Sounds nice, right?"

And there it was.

Asmodeus did everything he could to keep the disappointment off his face, as Lucifer patted your shoulder. "That sounds like an excellent idea, MC," Asmo bit back a growl as Lucifer pulled you out of his arms and lead you towards your room. He glanced back at Asmo with a smug, prideful, look on his face. "We'll go get ready. Thank you for arranging this day out, Asmodeus."

Asmodeus could do nothing but pout as Lucifer walked away with you.

-

Satan had never felt so... tender-hearted before.

He watched you affectionately as you rambled on about your day while effortlessly helping him make supper.

There was something so wholesome and domestic about the entire situation that reminded him of the few romance novels he had read. Initially, when he read those books, he thought the poetic descriptions of the person's heart skipping and the tingling warmth filling their body was a gross exaggeration, but now he knew, and he never wanted that feeling to go away.

He moved by your side and stirred one of the pots on the stove while you diced tomatoes. As he listened to you speak about an enchantment you were trying to get the hang of with Solomon, he suddenly remembered one of the more cliche moments from the books he read.

Glancing at the sauce, Satan carefully scooped up a little bit into a spoon and gently blew on it to cool it down. He turned to you and held the spoon out towards you. "I'm not sure if I got the spices balanced outright. Would you mind-"

Before he could speak any more, a head. that most certainly did not belong to you, swooped down and ate the sauce off the spoon. You and Satan blinked as Lucifer, who had somehow appeared behind you, pulled away from the spoon with a thoughtful expression. "The sauce is good. I'd say it's probably done now," Lucifer stated calmly as his thumb wiped at the corners of his mouth. Satan's grip tightened on the spoon's handle as he snarled at his brother.

You looked awkwardly between the two as Lucifer draped his arm onto your shoulder. "Lucifer? What are you doing here?"

Lucifer's expression softened as he looked down at you, "I just wanted to check in on you," Satan's eye twitched at the excuse. Lucifer tilted his head before he continued. "Also, I saw Mammon sneaking into your room, muttering something about your jewellery box and wanted to give you a heads up."

Your eyes widened as your head snapped in the direction of your room. "What?! Why didn't you start with that?!" Lucifer's smile widened as you made your way towards the kitchen exit. You glanced back at Satan with sympathetic eyes, "Sorry, Satan. I'll promise I'll help you make dinner next time!" Before Satan even had the chance to respond, you had taken off down the hall, yelling his older brother's name.

With you gone, Satan turned to Lucifer with full, unrestrained fury. "What the fuck was that for?" he spat as he stepped into Lucifer's space.

The elder brother merely rolled his eyes and stepped around Satan as though he was nothing more than a hissing kitten. "I could be asking you the same thing. You were getting awfully close there."

Satan's face grew red, though it was hard to distinguish whether the colour was from anger or embarrassment. "That's none of your business!"

Apparently, Lucifer didn't deem a response necessary, as he simply dismissed his brother with a cocky wave of his hand and strutted out of the room in the same direction that you had left.

-

Beelzebub was taking a chance and stepping outside of his comfort zone.

Ever since discovering a small, weak flower in the shadows of the Hall of Lamentation and nursing it back to health, Beel had taken up gardening as a hobby.

None of his brothers knew about it, to his knowledge, and that was okay. If anything, the soft-spoken demon preferred it that way.

But when he noticed that it was particularly nice outside and that you were roaming around with little to do, he decided to let you in on his little secret.

Beel stole a glimpse over his shoulder at you. You were hunched over, humming to yourself as you worked away, your hands knuckle deep in the rich soil with smudges of dirt smeared across your forehead. The gentle dim light of the Devildom sky bounced off your skin and blanketed you in its glow, only adding the beauty you projected.

The sight alone stole his breath and momentarily made him forget about his hunger.

He opened his mouth to speak to you, but was cut off by the sound of heavy footfalls thundering towards you and a loud dangerous growl.

Beel's eyes widened as he notice Cerberus turn the corner, heading straight towards the two of you in a dead sprint.

Without thinking, Beel quickly tackled you to the side, just as the three-headed hell hound rushed past you, demolishing the garden in his wake.

You did a double-take between Beel, Cerberus and the garden as you scrambled to your feet. "Cerberus? How in Diavolo's name did he get loose?" you anxiously ran a hand through your hair began to head in the direction he took off in. "Lucifer taught me a few tricks for catching him. I'm going to go get him! I'm so so sorry about all of this Beel! I'll make it up to you, I promise!"

Without another word you took off after the beast, shouting it's name.

Beel frowned and looked at what remained of his garden. He felt his heart sink a little at seeing all of his hard work destroyed. With a heavy sigh, he slowly made his way towards Cerberus's den to see just how bad the damage was.

Only, when he arrived, the pen's door didn't even have a scratch on it; almost as though someone had let the dog out.

-

Leviathan paced around his room as he muttering to himself as tightly clenched to tickets.

"Alright, Levi. It's not a big deal," he whispered reassuringly. "You just have to go out there, hand them the tickets, and ask them to come with. You already checked their calendar when you were in their room last time, and there are no mentions of any upcoming events on their Devilgram, so they won't be busy. O-Of course, they could always reject you for being a stupid shut-in and a gross o-otaku, b-b-but they're your Henry! Right? They have to agree! Okay!" Levi took a deep breath of courage and quickly flung open his door.

He charged to the living room where he knew you would be lounging with Lucifer.

Upon seeing him, your expression lit up and you graced Leviathan with one of your dazzling smiles. The otaku swore that he could hear his heart go "doki-doki". He stumbled to a stop as his face blushed, and quickly hid the tickets behind his back. "H-Hi MC."

"Hey, Levi-chan!" Oh Diavolo, he loved it when you called him that. "What's up? You look like a man on a mission."

Levi briefly noted Lucifer side-eyeing the two of you as he began to stutter out an answer. "W-Well you see, uh... I-I just um...There's this th-thing that..." He let out a small noise of frustration at his own incompetence.

But you never laughed, or sighed, or groaned, like any of his brothers would have. No. You merely sat there and waited patiently for him to find his words with a gentle smile on your face.

Another deep breath and Levi composed himself. "Did you want to go to an idol concert with me this weekend?" Levi couldn't even bring himself to look you in the eyes as he asked the question. "O-Obviously you don't have to, b-b-but you seemed to like their music when I played it the other day, a-a-and you aren't busy so I thought-"

"Actually," Levi's mouth snapped shut as Lucifer spoke up, "MC and I have plans with Diavolo this weekend."

Levi's head whipped over to look at you and noted the slightly confused expression on your face. "I thought that was next weekend?"

Amber eyes narrowed at the words, as Levi slowly turned to glare at Lucifer. It was all to clear to the Otaku what was happening here.

Lucifer shrugged, not even phased by the venomous stare of his brother, and pulled out his D.D.D. "Barbatos messaged me saying that Diavolo had an important meeting pop up next week and asked if we could move our little get-together to this weekend instead."

You huffed and crossed your arms. "I know he's the prince and can't help it, but making last-minute changes like that is just rude."

Lucifer chuckled at your annoyance and ruffled your hair. "I know, but it's nothing either of us can help. I'll just confirm that we're good with the change and-"

"No." Lucifer and Levi both looked at you in shock. Levi dared to let his heart flutter with hope at the determined look on your face. "I can make plans with Diavolo any time. This concert is a once-in-a-lifetime experience and it clearly means a lot to Levi. Tell him that I'll have to take a rain check. I'm going to be spending the weekend with Levi-chan."

Levi instantly let out a cheer of victory as he stepped forward spun you in the air. "Thank you, MC!!! Oh we're going to have so much fun! I swear you won't regret this!"

You giggled as you were set back down onto your feet. "Thank you for inviting me! This is going to be amazing!"

You and Levi began rambling about all the things you wanted to do at the concert and what you'd need to prepare in advance for the ultimate experience.

Levi couldn't believe it! He was going to spend an entire weekend getting to show you the things that he loved! It'd be just the two of you and it'd be perfect.

"I have an idea," Levi felt himself tense as Lucifer spoke up once more. "Why don't we all go together? That way you can spend time with Diavolo, while also getting to attend the concert?"

Levi's heart sunk as you squealed at the idea, jumping excitedly around a smiling Lucifer.

So much for his perfect, romantic, weekend.

-

Mammon took a deep breath as he stared at your bedroom door.

This was it. He was finally going to tell you how he felt.

He had it all planned out. He was going to go in there, and gift you the necklace he had noticed you looking at the last time the two of you went downtown. Then, he'd explain how through the past months of living with you and being your protector, that he found himself becoming enraptured by every single little thing that you do. He'd explain how he knows that he's clingy and greedy when it comes to spending time with you, but that's because there's nothing he treasures more than being by your side. And then, he'd say that he loves you, and hope that you say the same in return.

Fucking romantic right? Mammon had this in the bag.

He confidently lifted his chin as he knocked on your door before walking in. "Hey MC! I know it's late, but do ya gotta-" he trailed off at the sight before him.

Both you and Lucifer were in fluffy, white robes on your bed. Lucifer had a headband in his hair, brushing his bangs away from his clay mask-covered face. You were beside him, also sporting a mask, your tongue peeking out of the corner of your mouth as you carefully painted his nails.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow at his brother, obviously annoyed at being disturbed, while you smiled over at Mammon. "Hey, Mams! Just a sec," you smoothly finished applying a coat of red polish to Lucifer's pinky finger before recapping the bottle and turning to the white-haired demon. "What's up?"

Mammon felt his face heat up, as he quickly hid the small box in his hands behind his back. "I- Uh- Nothin'! Just wanted to talk with ya. Can ya come with me for a few minutes?"

Lucifer sighed as he examined his freshly painted nails. "Might I remind you that you're the one disturbing us, Mammon? If you've got something to say," Mammon gulped as knowing, irked, obsidian eyes bore into his, "spit it out."

You smacked Lucifer's arm. "Hey! Be nice," you offered Mammon a sympathetic smile as you turned back to him. "Sorry, Mammon. You were saying?"

Mammon swallowed down the lump in his throat as humiliation flooded his veins. He awkwardly looked away and waved off your concern. "Nah. It was nothin' important," he subtly slid the necklace box into his back pocket, "I-I'll talk with ya tomorrow or somethin'. It's nothin' ya need to worry about."

You blinked owlishly at Mammon. He could practically see the gears churning inside your head; you obviously thought something was wrong. "Are you sure? If it matters to you, Mammon, that means it's important. I can spare a few minutes if it's really bothering you."

You began to stand up, but as you did, Lucifer caught your wrist."MC, he already said you didn't need to worry about it. If it was that important, he would've just told us. I'm sure everything is fine," Mammon tensed as Lucifer shifted his cold gaze onto him, "right?"

Mammon quickly nodded as he stumbled back towards the door. "Yeah! Yes! Everything is perfectly fine! I-I'll just get goin' and leave to continue whatever this is. Bye!" He scurried out of the room, slamming the door behind him, before slumping against it.

He could faintly hear the sounds of you scolding Lucifer, and felt himself slump in defeat.

He'd just have to try again another day.

-

Belphegor fluffed the blankets and pillows that he had set up in the backyard.

It was perfect. He had actually put in work to make sure it was.

A sea of blankets would protect the two of you from the chilly, Devildom, night air, while his finest pillows would make sure you were comfortable. He had brought out a thermos filled with tea and some snacks to make the evening extra cozy.

It was everything the two of you would need to take in the meteor shower tonight.

A click sounded behind him. Belphie perked and quickly turned to greet with you a smile.

Only, instead of you, a rather smug-looking Lucifer stood in the doorway.

Belphie growled and went back to arranging pillows. "What do you want?"

Lucifer shrugged and began to set up a telescope. Belphie gritted his teeth at the sight of it. "I'm just here to take in the meteor shower like you are. That's all. It is quite a beautiful sight after all, and it also happens to be very enlightening."

Belphegor sneered at his older brother as he turned away from him. "Well do it somewhere else! I'm watching the shower here with MC, not you. So go away!"

Lucifer tilted his head in mock confusion as he held up his phone. "Oh dear, but I've already invited the others to join us out here."

Belphie's head snapped up at Lucifer's words. "You what?!"

As though summoned, the rest of his brothers toppled into the backyard.

"I was unaware there was a meteor shower tonight," Satan claimed as he laid down his own blanket near Belphie's perfectly structured nest. "To think I almost missed out on it."

"Eh, I don't care about any stupid stars or anythin'," Belphie groaned in annoyance as Mammon plopped himself down beside him. "But if anythin' falls near us, then those meteor pieces have gotta be worth a fortune!"

Levi scoffed and rolled his eyes as he leaned against the house, game counsel still in hand. "Nothing's actually falling, dumb ass. They're just space rocks passing by."

Asmodeus giggled while he snuggled himself up on Belphie's other side. Belphie wrinkled up his nose and tried to lean away from the physical affection. "Then why are you out here, Levi, if they're just space rocks? Can't you admit that they're beautiful, like me, and you wanted to experience something real for once?"

Levi let out a squawk of embarrassment. "There isn't anything that 'reality can offer me that anime can't! I've seen meteor showers at least ten times all with amazing shots and angles that you could never get in real life!"

Asmodeus merely shook his head in response. "Whatever you say, Levi," he reached over to the picnic basket that Belphie for you and him had packed and held it over his head. "Beel! Snacks!"

Belphegor gaped at his twin as the ginger giant grabbed the basket and sat down behind them. "Beel?! You too?"

Beel looked down guiltily and looked through the food. "I'm sorry, Belphie. But Lucifer said there'd be snacks and that everyone else was going to be there, and I thought it'd be nice to have a family event."

Belphie groaned and held his head in his hands. "You knew I was planning this for just me and MC though."

Beel frowned and held out a cookie to his twin. "Sorry."

Before Belphie could argue anymore or even get the chance to kick everyone out, the door opened once more.

"Oh," everyone looked over to see you standing there in your pyjamas. Belphie's heart clenched as your confused eyes found his. "I didn't know this was a group gathering! I would've brought down some pillows for everyone or some snacks if I had known!" you smiled brightly at the group as you walked towards them.

"No need. Belphie went ahead and provided enough for everyone already," Lucifer claimed and patted the ground next him. "You can sit with me, MC. There's plenty of space over here."

Belphie cursed under his breath as you accepted Lucifer's offer and huffed as the meteor shower began.

Lucifer smirked as he took in his brother's defeat with glee, and you babbled away none-the-wiser by his side.

His brothers could try to woo you and corrupt you all they wanted, but Lucifer wasn't going anywhere. For every attempt they'd make, he'd be there to stop it.

You had deemed Lucifer your big brother, after all, and as such, he'd make sure that you were always safe from his brothers' infernal influences.

***The ending is meh, but whatever! I hope you guys enjoyed this fic! It was both fun and hassle to write, but I love it nonetheless! Thanks for your amazing support and love! Sorry for the lack of fics lately. Love you all!***

Taglist @all-oxidized-to-green @candymeowz, @thegrimgrinningghost @henry-and-the-seven-lords @satans-beloved-riv @cosmixbun @sufzku @lovelythoma @mothervictoire @obey-mes-treasure @kissed-by-a-dementor @yukihaie @justtiarra @mammoneybb @obeys-world @poly-bi-mf @armycandy10 @burrixino @arkarul @pumpkins-mainside-blog

[whimsicallyreading]

For Rowaelin Month day 17

 “A sick day”

CW- PTSD, mentions of violence

Aelin considered herself a fortunate person.

She has survived genocide, her family's murders, losing loved ones, slavery, torture, and the Great War. Now she is a queen, a mother, a beloved Mate.

Her life had changed since those bleak days where she'd wondered if she would ever escape captivity—the days when Aelin didn't know if she would ever be free or find love again. Every morning she woke up curled into Rowan's side, and while she drank her morning tea, Aelin could count on her young daughter snuggling into her lap.

Yes, she was swamped most days, but that was normal for a queen. But even the moments between boring meetings brimmed with life and laughter. Rowan's hand on her thigh beneath the table. Fenrys' theatrics when conversation spiraled off-topic. And even the hardened lords thought it was hilarious when their three-year-old princess barged into councils and demanded her mother's attention.

Her family gathered for dinners at the end of every day. Aelin's little family, Fenrys, Emrys, and Malakai were the regular attendees. Aedion, Lysandra, Elide, and Lorcan joined when they were present. It was a time reserved for family only, and it was by far Aelin's favorite part of the day.

Aelin had a good life now. Her family was growing, and her country thrived beneath her rule.

So it always took her by surprise when a bad day came.

She had woken up fine. Delly had slammed open the chamber door with a gust of wind and squirmed herself between her and Rowan in the early morning. Usually, Aelin treasured the moments when her daughter joined them, but being pregnant again had taken a toll on her sleep.

Rowan tried to stop their child before she entirely collapsed onto Aelin but was a moment too slow. Delly flopped onto her mother's chest in a disarray of wrinkled nightgown and golden curls. Soft sobs were sputtering out of the tiny figure.

I'm sorry. Rowan whispered into her thoughts. He knew how hard pregnancy was on her and took his mate's comfort very seriously. It troubled him that their toddling daughter woke Aelin so abruptly.

Aelin blinks the sleep from her eyes and sends him a happy smile to assure him everything is fine.

"What's wrong, Dell?" Aelin soothes a hand up her baby's quaking form.

Adelia sniffles harder, unable to talk through the tears. She'd started to have bad dreams in recent weeks, but never had she been so inconsolable.

Aelin shifts as Adelia's arms tighten uncomfortably around her bump. Rowan sees her discomfort and reaches around to pull Dell to him instead, but it is met with resistance.

"No," Adelia finally wails. "Mama. I want Mama."

Rowan frowns. Adelia was a daddy's girl to the bone, and this was the first time she'd ever refused to go to him. Their daughter squeezes harder and burrows her face into Aelin's torso.

"Dell," Rowan leans next to her and whispers, a cool breeze brushing against her flushed cheek. "What's wrong little love?"

Adelia lifts her head, and Aelin's heart contracts painfully. Her cheeks are red and swollen from the intensity of her crying, little sobs still stumbling from her chest as Rowan settles her down enough to speak.

"Mama was gone. She was hurt, and she couldn't see me." Dell sniffles, her green eyes glassy. "Can you see me, Mama?"

Aelin tugs her daughter in closer, unable to stand the sight of her so sad. "Yes, of course, I can. I'm right here."

"You were in a box. She wouldn't let me see you," Adelia whimpers in a small voice. "She told me she was gonna keep you. I don't want you to go, Mama."

Aelin's face blanches. It wasn't possible. Her little baby couldn't possibly have seen what was coming to her mind. She looks at Rowan, and his face is pinched with worry.

"It's not real, Dell." Rowan uses a thumb to wipe the tears off her cheek.

Adelia flinches. "Uncle Ress told me it was. He told me Mama had got stollen and put into a box by the bad lady and that she should have stayed there."

Aelin's heart stops. Nausea crawls up her throat, and Rowan tugs Adelia away just in time for her to crawl out of bed and gag into a potted plant. The sickness grips Aelin, the shudders in her arms only growing worse with her daughter's mumbled cries.

"Daddy, I want Mama to stay here." Rowan hushes her and murmurs quiet reassurances. "Don't let her get stollen."

Ress had said that? In front of her daughter? Aelin tries to close her eyes against the visions creeping into her mind. The places her scars used to be ache, and her hands pulse with the remembered pain of reconstruction.

The baby in her womb squirms under its mother's stress, and Aelin throws up again.

She should have stayed there.

Cairn brings the hammer down onto her frail knees, the ringing of cracking bone splits the air.

She should have stayed there.

Aelin opens her eyes to endless darkness. Sweet smoke wafts through invisible holes and sends her to sleep- leaving her mind vulnerable to Maeve's manipulations.

She should have stayed there.

More and more memories swarm behind her eyelids until a pair of grounding arms wrap around her shoulders.

"Fireheart, you are home. You are safe. Can you breathe with me?" Rowan sighs loudly behind her shoulder, and Aelin tries to force her own breath out.

Breathing in is harder, but Rowan's scent fills her nose and loosens the binds on her lungs. Soon, Aelin is doing the exercises independently, and Rowan nuzzles his face into her neck. His hands snake under her bump and lift some of the pressure, easing more of her tension.

"There you are," Rowan kisses her cheek as Aelin comes back around. "Are you okay?"

Aelin shakes her head and sinks into his arms. "Can you take me back to bed?"

Her legs feel like jelly, and her stomach is weak from turning. Rowan lifts her with ease. His arms are warm, and he murmurs sweet nothings into her ear as he carries his mate back to their bed.

"Adelia?" Aelin looks around for their daughter.

Rowan pulls back the duvet and reveals the sleepy from nestled right into the middle of the pillows. "She fell back asleep quickly."

"I can't believe Ress told her those things," Aelin can feel a tear slipping down her face. Ress had never forgiven her for her days as Celaena. Darrow had grown to accept her, but Ress never warmed up to having Aelin as his queen despite her efforts.

She hadn't realized the extent his hatred went.

Rowan scowls as he lays Aelin down next to their daughter. "Ress is young and foolish. I have forgiven a lot of his hostility and ignored most of his juvenile antics, but Aelin, I can't forgive this."

"He should never have said those things to Dell." Ress's words linger in her head. She tried to do right by her title and live up to her parent's legacy. Aelin took a lot of pride in listening to the demands of her people and tending to their problems personally. But the odds of Ress being the only one to feel this way are slim. Did they wish she'd never returned? Was she arrogant to take the crown just because it was her inheritance? She'd never had the formal training as ruler and relied a lot on Rowan to help manage foreign affairs. Despite the loss of her fire, many still feared her and considered her a murderer. No matter how hard she tried, Aelin's history as Adarlan's Assassin proceeded her.

Tears burn Aelin's eyes, and Rowan's scowl deepens. "He should have never spoken of you like that at all."

Aelin shakes her head, "It's his right to think what he wants. Maybe he has a point."

"No." Rowan growls, and Dell flinches in her sleep. Taking a deep breath, Rowan softens his voice. "He's wrong, Aelin. Ress was wrong to scare Dell, and he has no right to demean everything you've sacrificed. You've suffered for your people."

"I closed the lock because I had to Rowan," Aelin argues. "That doesn't automatically make me a good queen. What if I'm failing?"

Rowan pulls their duvet up to Aelin's chin, and Dell instinctively snuggles to her mother's side. Her daughter was a leach for warmth, and Aelin could feel her remaining flames writhing in her veins agitated.

"You are a wonderful ruler, Fireheart." Rowan bends down and kisses her lips reverently. "I've met my fair share of emperors, kings, and queens. None of them have given up so much to better the lives of their people. They care for you in return."

Rowan steps away from the bed, and Aelin makes a displeased noise. "Where are you going so early in the morning."

"I'm awake now. I feel like a flight through Oakwald. Go to sleep, and when you wake up, I'll bring my females breakfast," Rowan pulls on a plain white tunic. "Sleep, love. You both need your rest."

Rowan can read her too well. Aelin can feel her eyes drooping despite how much she wants to deny it. "Very well, but there better be tea and pastries."

As Aelin drifts back to sleep, she swears that a mischievous smile passes across her mate's face.

~~~

"Aelin," Maeve twirls a lock of blonde hair in her fingers. "Where are the keys?"

Cairn twists the blade in her thigh again, and Aelin screams, "screw yourself."

Aelin writhes beneath the pain and the dark queen's gaze. Her torturer goes to twist the blade again, but Maeve holds up a hand. "Wait. There is a smarter way to go about this."

"I won't tell you anything," Aelin gasps, the blood seeping from her thigh pools onto the table. "There is nothing you can do."

"Not even to spare the princess?" Maeve smiles as the cell door opens. Connall walks into the room, a squirming girl in his arms.

"Let me go," the girl screams, and the air in the room turns frigid. Her blonde hair whips around as she twists and fights. The little girl's head turns, and she freezes when she catches sight of Aelin. "Mama?"

"Adelia?" Aelin asks, confused. "You can't be here. You aren't supposed to be here." With renewed energy, Aelin thrashes against her bonds and bares her teeth at Maeve.

Maeve takes Adelia from Connall and strokes her hair. "Such a pretty one."

"This isn't real," Aelin hisses. "I wasn't pregnant when you took me. Adelia was born in Terresan."

Maeve hums a sympathetic note, "It seems you're confused." Aelin fights as the dark queen sits with a frozen Adelia in her lap. "Begin again, Cairn."

A hot iron is lain against Aelin's neck, and Adelia's screams rattle the stone chamber.

~~~

Aelin wakes with a gasp. Her chest is seizing in uncontrollable fits, and little hands cup the sides of her face.

"Mama?" Adelia's concerned face hovers over Aelin's. "Why are you crying?"

Relief washes over her at the sight of her daughter, safe and sound. She tries to take deeper breaths, but her body fights against her. The baby in her womb squirms uncomfortably. Aelin feels guilt that they are so subject to her moods. She tries to open her mouth to speak, consol her frightened daughter, but Aelin can't get any words out.

"Daddy!" Dell screams, frightened tears gathering in the corner of her eyes.

Rowan bursts through the door, "Dell?"

Adelia sniffles and kisses Aelin's face sadly, "Daddy, what's wrong with Mama?"

Aelin grabs at her chest, trying to ease the tightness there. She was scaring her daughter. What kind of mother would do that? Rowan sits beside her, and a cool wind goes up her nose and fills her lungs.

"Fireheart," Rowan lifts Adelia and sits beside her. "Is this a sick day?"

It was the code they'd come up with for the days when the past came back to haunt them. When the turmoil in their mind forces their bodies to rebel, and they can't seem to put on their usual facades. It used to shame Aelin, the days she couldn't rise from bed and do her duty. But her mate's unwavering love soon cracked that lie and eased her burden. Rowan had convincing arguments. Aelin's people needed their queen at her best, and on sick days, she wasn't able to give that to them. Their court was strong. They wouldn't allow Terresan to fall while she recovered. Aelin deserved time to heal.

Rowan must have been able to tell that she wouldn't be able to settle herself this time as his winds continued their push and pull in her chest. "Yes," she rasps dejectedly.

Dell buries her face into Rowan's shoulder. Her mate rests a hand on the side of her face and soothes her cheek. "To whatever end, Aelin. We will get through this just as we do everything else."

Rowan kisses the side of Dell's face. "Little love, do you think you can go to the kitchens and have someone bring Mama tea?"

That fae instinct to fuss rears its head in their child. Adelia perks up at the opportunity to do something useful. "Yes!"

Rowan sets her on the floor, and she takes off in a blur of untamed hair and swishing skirts. They wince as a gust of wind slams the doors of their chambers against the wall.

"She's a handful," Rowan talks, aware of the soothing effect his voice has on her. "But we always knew our children would be. I can't wait to see what kind of chaos our son brings into our lives."

Aelin wraps her arms around him as the remnants of her dreams finally fade away. "You think it's a boy?"

"I know so," Rowan pinches her side, and Aelin smiles. He'd also been confident that their first child would be a girl. His smugness after Adelia's birth was unbearable.

"Rowan," Aelin whispers. "Can we just lay here today?"

"I could never deny you anything," Rowan leans against their headboard and kicks off his shoes. "You don't need to ask, Aelin. It's okay to take time for yourself."

"What if I'm just proving Ress right?" The insecurity slips from her lips before she can stop them. "What if there is someone more capable?"

"Ress won't be a problem anymore," Rowan rests a hand against her bump, and the baby withing kicks at it, bringing a smile to his face.

Aelin narrows her eyes, "What have you done?"

"Nothing that anyone will blame me for," Rowan assures. "He would be in a lot more trouble if the rest of the court learned what he said in front of Dell. Ress should be grateful I didn't do a lot worse."

Aelin sighs, "I don't understand why I can't just let it all go. Why do I allow myself to be so haunted?"

"It's not that simple," Rowan shakes his head. "I'm hundreds of years old, and no matter how many years pass, there are things from my past that haven't healed. The mind is different from the body, and sometimes it takes longer for it to recover. There is nothing wrong with that. You gave up everything for the people you loved."

"Because I had to," Aelin contradicts.

A hardness comes over Rowan, "because no one else could."

Rowan rolls over her body into a plank and looks deep into her eyes. "No one else that day would have made the same sacrifices out of love. Not even me. I was too selfish to let you go. You gave up everything, and by the strength in your soul, you came home to me. In all my decades, I have never met someone so remarkable, and I never will again. Take as many years as you need to recover, Aelin. This world owes a debt to you, and I will make sure it pays. You deserve every happiness."

His hand threads through one of hers and drags it up to rest on the bump between them.

Happiness.

Dell darts back into their room, a cup of tea sloshing in her hands as she runs. "Daddy, I put extra sugar in it. Uncle Fen is coming with more cups, but I made this one special."

Rowan pulls away from her, and the laughter on his face is contagious.  

Aelin smiles and accepts the tea from Dell's hands. She even manages a few sips without cringing from the sweetness. Fenrys follows behind her shortly and sets a fresh cup covertly on her bedside table.

There may be hard days, Aelin realizes as her family gathers around her, but the love they showed her every day made it all worth it.

[redrobin-detective]

while you were sleeping

“Now here’s what’s going to happen,” Grandpa Max said in a gravelly, rough voice he only used when he was barely holding onto his anger. Gwen held her crossed arms tightly, trying to seem stern when she really felt scared. “You are going to relinquish your control over my Grandson and you are going to do it now or else-”

“Or else what, Grandpa?” Ben asked with a blank expression. Or at least, the thing wearing Ben’s face and body did. It hadn’t quite mastered fine motor control yet so seeing her cousin’s usually animated face so slack, his posture so awkward like a puppet on a string... it was unnerving. 

“Or I’m going to remove you from his person and get him back myself,” Grandpa growled. He slammed his hands on the railings of the stretcher Ben was sitting on and leaned close to his face. “And don’t call me Grandpa, you are not my boy, you are not even real. You are a hunk of metal and machinery and I don’t care if you are the most powerful device in the universe, Omnitrix, I will tear you apart piece by piece to rescue my family.”

The Omnitrix tilted Ben’s head awkwardly, it’s too bright green eyes staring at Grandpa Max with a fury Gwen rarely saw from her cousin. 

“You will never separate us. We will not allow it,” the Omnitrix hissed, clawing Ben’s right hand protectively over the alien watch. It’s usual green interface was blank having spread itself through Ben’s entire body. Three days they had just assumed Ben was tired from the battle in the Atraxi Nebula. Three days that Ben had been acting weird and not right while the Omnitrix possessed him. Three days of brushing it off until Rook had noticed the changes to the watch and alerted them that something was very, very wrong. “And you’re one to talk about saving us,” the Omnitrix spat out. “All you do is make demands of us, send us far and wide to fix other people’s problems and never helping our own.”

“Cut it out with this we and us. Ben is a person and you’re just a machine,” Grandpa sighed with frustration, rubbing at his eyes. 

“There is no Ben or Omnitrix, there is only us,” the Omnitrix stated as if it were obvious. “We have long since merged. Ben and I are one in the same which is how we know how damaged we are.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Grandpa sneered.

“It means,” the Omnitrix continued with lidded, angry eyes, “that Ben doesn’t want to come out. His mental state collapsed in battle leaving our physical form in danger. We had to take control to get us to safety. Ben is safe and cared for right where he is and he will return when he is ready and not a moment before.”

“How do we know you’re not lying?” Grandpa Max screamed, finally losing his cool. Gwen flinched and she noticed the Omnitrix slid its eyes over towards her before flickering back to Grandpa. “According to Azmuth, you’re not supposed to be sentient, you’re not supposed to possess your host! Why am I supposed to believe you that you’re not holding Ben hostage?”

“Because we have been there for every injury, every bout of self-doubt and loneliness, every tear shed in grief and misery,” the Omnitrix whispered with venom dripping from every word. It’s eyes glowed so brightly it cast dark, ominous shadows on Ben’s face. “While you and everyone else looked the other way and pretended it was fine to thrust the entire universe on a child’s shoulders. The only one we have been able to rely on for years is ourselves and it wasn’t enough.” 

“I-,” Grandpa Max started to defend before deflating a bit. He looked over at her, unsure of what to say. Gwen gave him a curt shoulder shrug; she hadn’t exactly been overly attentive to Ben’s mental health the last few years herself. With the way he acted, it was easy to assume he was handling things alright but the signs were there now that she was looking. It shouldn’t have gotten this bad that the Omnitrix had to possess him and point Ben’s struggles out. “It’s not like that, Ben would’ve told us if it was too much.”

“Which is why his psyche is in fractured pieces,” the Omnitrix said with an eye roll. It was just how Ben did it, for all that the actions were jilted and ungainly, it had Ben’s mannerisms down exactly. “We left the Master in your care for years and this is how we ended up.”

The Omnitrix leaned forward, it’s elbows balanced on Ben’s knees and it’s fingers laced together under Ben’s chin. It stared at them judgement in it’s stolen eyes. “So here is what is going to happen, Grandpa and Cousin. We are going to take care of Benjamin, as we have done from the moment of our joining. We will keep our body healthy and safe from harm, we will patrol and go on missions to keep our home and the universe intact. We will also work to undo the damage you have done to Ben and when he is healed and ready to resume control, then we will retreat and let Ben make the decisions.”

“You can’t do that,” Grandpa said with a dry rasp. 

“We can,” the Omnitrix countered steadily. “You will have to kill us to separate us and we will kill you before we let any harm come to Ben. Do you understand?”

“You say we’ve hurt Ben,” Gwen said softly, not liking the Omnitrix’s unfocused, uncoordinated gaze on her. “We probably have just like he has done the same to us. We’re human, just because you love someone doesn’t mean we don’t make mistakes.” It frowned in thought. “But you don’t heal by locking yourself up and not addressing the problem. If Ben, if he’s hurting, then he needs to be out here where we can fix it. I know you love him and want to protect him but this isn’t the answer.”

For the first time since the conversation began, the harsh look softened on Ben’s face. It almost looked human this way. If the Omnitrix and Ben really were one being by this point, then it wouldn’t give into anger for long. It just wasn’t in their nature. 

“You are right in a way, Gwen,” the Omnitrix said with a slight nod, sitting up from it’s aggressive slouch. “It’s not a surprise, you’re right most of the time,” the Omnitrix said with a little quirk of the lips that was very Ben. The mirthful expression tightened into one of frustration. “But we still need time. Ben is fragile right now, he needs to rest, to recover. When he, when we, are ready then we will listen.”

“Okay,” Gwen nodded, reaching out and grabbing Grandpa’s hand tightly before he could fight anymore. “Okay, well we’re here for you if you need us.”

“Right, thanks,” the Omnitrix looked away and picked at Ben’s ripped up jeans. Did the device share Ben’s ADHD? Was it just copying Ben’s nervous habits to trick them or were the two of them so blended together it wasn’t one or the other but simply different parts of a single whole? She couldn’t help but wonder if Ben would’ve been this same person if the Omnitrix had never bonded with him. 

“Well, it’s late and we’re tired. We’re gonna play some video games then meet Rook for patrol tomorrow unless you plan to stop us from doing our job.” The Omnitrix said, it’s voice heavy with accusation as it glared at Grandpa. 

“You may go,” Grandpa said forcefully, unhappy with the situation but unable to stop it. “But this discussion isn’t over.”

“Of course not, I’m still waiting for your apology about your treatment of us,” the Omnitrix sniffed with a flippant wave as it hopped off the stretcher and walked out of the room where it would continue to act as Ben and live his life for who knows how long. But who was to say that he wasn’t Ben, some aspect of him that they never saw. Either way, dealing with it, dealing with them, just got a lot more complicated. 

[fruitcoops]

okay so we all love dad dumo and he's an incredible parent but even dumo isn't perfect. Could we maybe have dumo snapping at logan (or sirius, if it strikes your fancy, but i love dumo+logan dynamics) and then apologizing for it like a parent actually f*cking should

Oof, yes. Combined with asks for Sirius and Logan bonding, as well as some pre-Cap and James. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for parental figure disappointment

The car rumbled. Dumo’s hands squeaked on the wheel as he flexed his fingers. Logan felt like he was going to throw up.

Can we turn around real quick? No, too vague. Can we go home so I can use the bathroom? No, he’ll say I can wait another ten minutes. I forgot my phone at home? No, he saw me put it in my pocket. Logan ran through every possible way of asking to go back to the Dumais house without giving away his dilemma; with each scenario, they grew further from where he needed to be.

“Hey, Dumo?” he began quietly, swallowing around his dry mouth. What was it his father always said? Honesty is the best policy. “We need to go back to your house for a moment.”

“We’re already running late,” Dumo said, not even sparing him a glance in the rearview mirror. The traffic around them was a mess. “If we go back, we’ll miss the first part of warmups.”

“I know, but it’s kind of important.”

“So is the game. If it’s your wallet, you don’t need it right—”

“I left my skates by the front door.”

Dead silence filled the car as Dumo slowed to a stop at the fourth red light. Logan’s heart sank and his stomach crawled into his throat. “What?”

“I left my skates by the front door,” he repeated, staring at his hands. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking—”

“Tabernak, Logan!” Dumo snapped. He felt something inside him wither and die. “First the nap, then forgetting to wash your jersey, and now you left your fucking skates behind? What’s going on in your head? You are an adult now with responsibilities, and it’s your job to keep track of your shit.”

“I know,” Logan said quietly.

Dumo huffed. “Clearly you don’t! Do you just not care? Is that it?”

“I care.”

“This isn’t a college team, Logan.” Dumo’s accent grew harsh around his name. It had been a bad day for him—Adele came down with a nasty cold just after Celeste left to visit her parents for the weekend, and there was always an added pressure with home games. Logan knew that, and he knew he should have been paying better attention.

“I know.”

Dumo muttered a curse under his breath and pulled onto a side road, then swore again when his duffle bag slid in the passenger seat. Logan closed his eyes; there was no way they would make it all the way to the house and back to the rink in time for pre-game rituals. Damn it, Tremblay. What were you thinking?

They drove the rest of the way in silence. Dumo parked the car with a quiet “go”, and Logan hurried inside with a slight nod to the babysitter as he grabbed his skates before slinking back to the car with his head hung low.

“I’m really disappointed in you,” Dumo said when they reached the freeway again.

“I’m sorry.”

He received no response.

They won the game despite skipping all their superstitions, no thanks to Logan. He played like shit; Arthur barely gave him four shifts the whole night. Finn shot him a concerned look as he rinsed off and slipped back into his street clothes, but Logan didn’t have the energy to confront both his best friend and the upsetting feelings connected to the aforementioned best-friend-slash-secret-crush. If he tried, he’d certainly end up doing something stupid.

He packed his things, slung his bag over his shoulder, and followed Dumo out to the car like a stray dog with his tail between his legs. “I really am—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Dumo interrupted as they pulled out of the parking lot. Logan pressed his lips together. “Are you hungry?”

Starving. “Kinda.”

“I’ll heat up some leftover lasagna when we get back to the house. Will you pay the babysitter and make sure the kids are in bed?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you.”

Logan ground his teeth around the steady ache building in his chest—he hated disappointing people in general, but it was a whole different story with Dumo. He was his second father, the person Logan admired most on the team. He gave him a home and a substitute family to ease the homesickness, and was always there to cheer him on. And Logan let him down.

They went through their nightly routine silently, which was a sharp contrast to their usual banter. Marc and Louis refused to go to bed at first, nearly bringing Logan to tears in his frustration, but he eventually got them settled down and tucked in. By some miracle, both the girls were already asleep.

“I’m going to call Celeste,” Dumo finally said as Logan unloaded the dishwasher. He nodded without a word, not trusting his voice.

As soon as the dishwasher was full and running, Logan took his phone out and dialed the only person he wanted to hear from. It rang twice before connecting. “Hello?”

“Hey.” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “Hey, Cap, what’s up?”

“Not much.” Sirius sounded confused, and more than a little tired. “Ça va?”

Logan’s eyes burned. “Not bad. Do you have a minute?”

There was a rustling noise from the other end, followed by the clink of keys. “You’re at Dumo’s, right?”

“Oui.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

“Thanks,” he managed around his tight throat. “See you soon.”

Hushed voices came from the living room and Logan padded down the hall, knocking gently on the doorframe. Dumo looked up and furrowed his brow. “Un moment, mon amour. Are you alright?”

“Sirius is coming by in ten. We’re going to hang out for a bit, if that’s okay.”

“Tell him I say hello.” Without another word, Dumo uncovered the base of his phone and returned to his conversation. Logan nodded and headed back out into the hall, swallowing down the tears forming behind his eyes.

Ten minutes turned out to be seven minutes—Logan was simultaneously flattered and concerned—and a soft knock startled him out of his thoughts. Sirius already looked worried when the front door swung open. “What happened? Is everyone okay? Did something happen to Celeste?”

“She’s fine. Dumo says hi.” And he’s horribly disappointed in me. Logan took several deep breaths through his nose to control the tremor in his voice and Sirius gave him a worried once-over. “Can we drive around for a bit?”

“Of course.”

For all of his bluster and general brooding vibe, Sirius continued to be the king of empathy and (in Logan’s opinion) a secret mind-reader. The second his arm draped across Logan’s shoulders and held him close as they walked down the sidewalk, he felt some of the pressure in his chest release. “Sorry about the late call,” he sniffled. It was a cold night—the snot threatening to drip from his nose was frigid already. “I just—I needed to get out for a minute.”

“À tout moment.” Any time. Logan didn’t feel deserving of that kindness after the mess he had been on the ice. The heaters kicked on as soon as Sirius started the car and Logan closed his eyes, leaning back into the warm seat. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“It’s so stupid.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

Logan took a moment to breathe before shaking his head. “I forgot my skates. We were already running late, and I forgot my fucking skates at the house.”

Sirius hummed, but said nothing.

“It’s—Dumo has been having such a horrible day.” Tears clogged his throat again. “And I took a nap earlier because I stayed up late last night like an idiot, and Adele’s sick so he had all the kids and no help while he was trying to get ready, and then I overslept so it was already going to be rushed and forgot to clean my jersey and then—and then I forgot my skates. God, I’m so stupid.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“It’s not.” Logan wanted to kick him for being so infuriatingly patient. Sirius glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “That’s not why you’re upset, though.”

“He’s—” Logan broke off and swiped the first tear away with his sweatshirt cuff. “He said he was disappointed in me.”

“Ah.”

“It’s such a stupid thing to be upset about.”

Sirius sighed through his nose and pulled into the parking lot of a 24-hour Taco Bell, then turned off the car and faced Logan with one eyebrow raised. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Belittling yourself.”

“Okay, Heather,” Logan snorted. Sirius reached over and flicked him on the forehead. “Hey!”

“You forgot your skates. Big deal. We’ve all been there.”

Logan shot him a glare. “You’ve never forgotten your skates.”

“Yes, I have. My very first game with the Lions, actually. Except I didn’t realize it until we were already at the rink.”

“Did Dumo drive you back?”

“The whole damn way. He was mad as hell, but he did it.” Sirius’ face softened, and he poked Logan gently on the thigh. “Stop kicking yourself for this one. It sounds like it was a bad day for you both.”

“I still feel like shit.”

Sirius shrugged. “I bet. Disappointing Dumo is the worst feeling ever.”

“He wouldn’t even let me apologize.”

“He will.”

They sat in silence for a full minute as Logan tried to find the right words. “How did you deal with it? Letting people down. It feels like I’m drowning, sometimes.”

“Really, really poorly,” Sirius half-laughed, crossing his ankle over his knee. “It wasn’t until I was named captain that I started accepting that people weren’t lying when they forgave me for fucking up.”

“Why?”

“Believe it or not, the people I was around as a kid didn’t make a habit of apologizing to me when they did something wrong.”

Logan looked up from the faded letters on his sweatshirt sleeve and sniffled. “Thanks for bringing me out here.”

“Pas de problem. I figured you could use some company outside the house.”

“You’re the best.”

“I try.”

“You succeed.” You’re like a brother to me, actually. “Is this what James did for you?”

“No,” Sirius laughed. Affection took over his face, bright even in the dim light from the streetlamps. “No, he snuck me onto the roof of the rink with massive amounts of junk food and stayed with me until the imposter syndrome faded. It was fantastic, but we nearly got hypothermia several times in the winter. This is much more comfortable.”

“Thanks for helping me keep all my fingers and toes,” Logan said wryly. He lapsed back into silence and folded his forearms on the dashboard, sighing at the pleasant stretch of his back. “I know I have to go back eventually, but I’m scared.”

“Honestly, Logan, I bet he’s already forgiven you. He knows it was an accident.”

“But what if he doesn’t?” The words came out as little more than a whisper. Sirius’ hand rested hesitantly between his shoulder blades until Logan leaned back into it, then began rubbing gentle circles.

“He does,” Sirius said softly. “And he loves you so much.”

Logan sniffed back more tears. “Really?”

“Ouais. You’ve been living with him for nine months now, and he’s so proud of how far you’ve come.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he told me. Last week, after your hat trick. People fuck up, Logan, but that doesn’t mean they’re unforgivable. You don’t need to flay yourself for one bad day.”

Logan shut his eyes with a slow exhale and buried his face in his forearms. “I think I’m ready to go back now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“D’accord. Buckle your seatbelt.”

He straightened up and stretched, wincing at the crack of his back. Sirius drove out of the parking lot and hummed under his breath to the radio, but Logan didn’t miss the careful glances out of the corner of his eye. “You don’t need to worry about me,” he finally said. “I’ll be okay.”

“I know,” Sirius said casually, though he looked like he was holding something back. Logan didn’t press; Sirius would talk in his own time if he wanted to. He opened his mouth, paused, then sighed. “But I do worry about you.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

Thank you, Captain Black, for the most media answer of all time. “You really don’t have to.”

Sirius parked the car and leaned his head back against the seat. “You’re my friend, and I care about you, so I worry.”

Logan blinked at him. “You care about me?”

“Obviously,” Sirius muttered. Even in the darkness of the street, his cheeks were pink. “Now go on, you've got someone waiting for you.”

“I care about you, too.”

“Out of my car, Tremblay.” Despite his words, a smile quirked at the corner of Sirius’ mouth. Logan socked him lightly on the arm and opened the door, shivering in the night air as it bit through his hoodie.

“Drive safe, Cap.”

“I will.”

The walk to the front door felt less like a trip to the gallows and more like coming home; Logan felt his muscles relax, and saw the curtains shift as someone moved away from the window. Dumo opened the door before he could even knock.

“I’m sorry,” they said in unison. Logan raised his eyebrows and Dumo opened the door the rest of the way, ushering him inside.

The moment the door closed behind him, Dumo wrapped him in a hug. “I’m so sorry for what I said earlier, Logan. You made a mistake, and I shouldn’t have come down hard on you.”

“I’m sorry I made us late,” Logan said into his soft shirt. “And for not helping earlier. It won’t happen again.”

“All is forgiven.” Dumo patted him on the back of the shoulder and held him at arm’s length with a sad smile. “I should have kept a better handle on my temper. You don’t deserve to be spoken to like that.”

Logan bit back the urge to say it’s okay or I deserved it and instead pulled him in for another hug. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I didn’t realize how much you’ve helped me until today.”

Dumo made a quiet sound and held him tighter. “It’s a gift to have you here.”

Logan squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of emotion rolled in his heart. “There is nowhere I would rather be,” he whispered. They stayed like that for a long moment, swaying slightly, before Dumo stepped back.

“Get some rest. We have early practice tomorrow.” He mussed Logan’s hair and gave him a nudge toward the stairs. “Bonne nuit, mon fils.”

Mon fils. Logan’s breath caught for a second and he smiled. “Bonne nuit.”

[azathothpilled]

i'm having thoughts about the dynamic between abed and pierce, and not in a good way.

pierce was obviously the worst member of the study group and said some horrible things to every one of them, often about whatever minority group they belonged to (or in the case of him repeatedly calling jeff gay, the group pierce thought they belonged to). but he made at least some efforts to form bonds with all of them,,, except abed.

pierce helped shirley with her stage fright, pierce told annie she was her favorite and annie defended him when others wouldn't, pierce made multiple attempts to be liked by jeff, pierce defended britta at her susie hawkins dance, and pierce lived with and bonded with troy in earlier seasons. the closest pierce ever came to having any positive interaction with abed one-on-one was abed's christmas breakdown in season 2, but even then, pierce made it clear he wasn't there for abed.

one might argue that abed never made an attempt to form a relationship with pierce, either, but why would he? to abed, pierce is the embodiment of everything that's made his life hell. people like pierce are the reason muslims in the US were treated so awfully after 9/11. people like pierce are the reason autistic people still face so much stigma and are often seen as violent, dangerous, or delusional (while hickey was extremely ableist in the sense that he approached abed as though he's a child with a temper problem, pierce took the opposite yet equally harmful approach of demonizing abed's neurodiversity). pierce refused to pronounce abeds name correctly despite knowing full well how it actually is pronounced. there was no reason abed would want pierce to stay in the study group, let alone to be his friend.

abed knew pierce was petty, immature, vengeful, ignorant, prejudiced, and, most of all, jealous that all these people who he viewed as inferior were forming bonds with each other and not him. his final impact on the study group was his will, a last attempt to tear apart the study groups relationships with each other. he softened the blow by giving compliments to everyone,,, except abed. in death, pierce still refused to show any sort of decency to abed. jeff didn't get a compliment either but was given an expensive gift to show that there was at least some friendship there. abed was simply told he was insane (something that pierce had already implied earlier in the will by asking if abed had ever killed an animal and felt no remorse) and given the sperm like everyone else.

and if pierce hadn't hurt abed enough, his very last impact was the one thing he knew would hurt abed the most. giving troy an offer to leave that he couldn't refuse. taking troy away from abed.

anyway my point is that abed can and should piss on pierces grave

[krispytidalwavesheep]

Hopes and Dreams III

.I am not entirely sure about this chapter, if I’m completely honest, so I’ll probably rewrite it at a later time. If you want to get added to the taglist just let me know! Thanks for your continuos support with this fic, it honestly gives me so much life right now! *** Chapter 3

“There seem to still be a few things you haven’t seen.” Lady Dimitrescu stated after you reached the sitting room.

“It’s not everyday that you see girls turn into a swarm of bugs. I’ve seen a lot, but I never said I have seen everything.”

“Which brings me to the question that I want answered. What are you? My first guess would be that you are a vampire, like me and my daughters, but I have a feeling that that isn’t true. Sit down please, so that I can take a look at your wound.” Her tone brooked no argument, so you did as you were told and rolled up the leg of your pants. You winced when you saw the true extend of the damage. Even with enhanced healing it would take a few hours to properly heal.

“My biological father was a scientist, who researched a lot of occult and supernatural topics. He was also a massive asshole who thought it okay to experiment on his own baby daughter, so there’s that. I don’t know how, but someone he got his hands on the DNA of some creature no one really has a name for, but I have a guess. The only thing he really knew, was that they are like Vampires, but much more powerful.

He injected me with the DNA when I was four, but nothing happened, so I was deemed a failure. He did all kinds of tests on me, to see if the DNA would activate, but it didn’t. At least not until he tried to kill me. I was no stranger to torture after he failed, but that night I knew he came to finish it. I was 10, and I was scared and angry, so much so, that something in me broke. There wasn’t much left of him after I was finished. 

I’ll spare you most of the details of what happened after, since it is not relevant for what you want to know, and I hate the feeling of being exposed when I don’t know if I can trust the person in front of me. I ran away and my benefactor found me and took me in. I don’t know how, but somehow, he knew what I had become, and he took it upon himself to make sure that I got the best training I could get. I can somewhat use my enhanced abilities, but I am not completely awakened. I’ll get to that part shortly. 

After 6 years I was deemed ready to repay the favor and got sent on a hunt for rare artifacts, as I mentioned earlier. I was free to research my condition whenever the opportunity arose, and I did. I traveled the whole world, met all kinds of creatures and people, yet no one could help me with my predicament. That was until 8 months ago, when I found the first real clue. But that clue came with a price and I have been cursed. 

I still don’t have a name for the creature that I have become, but I found an old text that explained a lot to me. My kind won’t fully awaken until they bond themselves to another being, that has roughly the same power that we have. That’s where the curse made things more complicated: If I try to bond with anyone that isn’t my destined mate, I will die. Slowly and painfully. 

And if that isn’t enough, the curse took the ability to sense my mate away from me, at least in the traditional sense. Usually, we will know our mate by smell alone, for their blood will sing to us like nothing else ever could. We would feel a strong pull towards them, and they to us, for our blood will be just as exquisite to them, as theirs is to us. The curse took that ability away from me, and now I am destined to walk the earth, waiting for my mate to find me. 

Another side effect is what I call ‘boiling blood’. When I feel threatened enough it will activate and temporarily awaken me. I can’t control it though, and that is the problem. It only happened once so far, and that was when someone I care a great deal for, got hurt. But I have it under control for the most part. I just don’t like it when people I care about get hurt, I lost myself even before the curse happened. And I do understand if you deem me to dangerous and kick me out of the castle. You wouldn’t be the first one.” You ended lamely and sighed. It always took a lot out of you when you talked about the past. 

“You mentioned that you have a theory about what exactly you are?” Alcina asked and gently patted your dressed wound. You suppressed the gentle shiver that wanted to roll down your body and said, “I think I am a Vampire, but one of the first generation.”

***

“And what makes you think that?” Alcina asked carefully. You pondered that for a moment, her eyes never leaving you. She could see that it took a toll on you to tell her all that, and she could understand that. Admitting what had happened couldn’t be easy, especially when there was the possibility that you would be thrown out or worse. Alcina didn’t plan on doing either of those things though, and she would tell you soon enough. An idea was forming in her head.

“I read a lot about vampires and had my fair share of encounters, none of them as nice as the one with you, so I figured it must be something like that. Whenever a Vampire turns someone, a miniscule part of their DNA gets implanted in the one they’ve turned. That is why your Maker will always be stronger than you. But since I got way more DNA with fathers’ experiments, it could mean that I am the first person who got turned into a Vampire of the first generation. And if not first, then second, which would still be infinitely more powerful than a Vampire of third or fourth generation. Although I can’t be sure, since I destroyed everything that could give me a clue, when I killed my father.” You said silently, looking at the floor. Alcina couldn’t help but feel pity for you. A bad hand was dealt to you, and you just tried to live your life. She also admired how strong and confident you were, even after all that had happened.

“I have an offer for you.” Alcina said and put two fingers under your chin to make you look at her, ignoring your blush.

“Stay here. You have nowhere else to go, right? You fascinate me and I want to know more about your abilities if you are willing to show me. And I could use a hand to help me in the castle’s upkeep. But make no mistake, my dear. As soon as you show me that you become a threat, I will dispose of you. What do you say?” Alcina asked, but she knew your answer already. She could see it in the softening of your eyes and the spark of hope that flickered in your eyes. You gently nodded and gave her the most brilliant smile she had ever seen. Both of you briefly wondered where that feeling of trust came from, you more than Alcina, but for the moment it was enough.

***

A weird sense of coming home fell over you, when you looked into her eyes, that had gentled with your consent. She could probably kill you with a snap of her fingers, but somehow you got the feeling that she wouldn’t. Most people feared you when you told them what you were, not all of them humans either. But she gave you the feeling of safety, no matter what your nature was, and you wondered. Could she be the one that was fated to be with you? Or was that just wishful thinking, because she showed you kindness where everybody else would only show you fear and hatred? You were immensely attracted to her, that’s for sure, but could she be the one? 

“I want to see the full extend of your abilities as fast as possible if you don’t mind. If it is alright with you, I would arrange a little sparring session between you and my daughters.” Lady Dimitrescu said and took a seat on the chaise lounge in front of you. 

“I wouldn’t mind. It has been far too long since someone has offered me a challenge, so I will gladly accept, my Lady. My wound should be fully healed by tomorrow, so we can start first thing if you’d like,” you offered, eager to show her what you were capable of. Maybe she will keep you around for longer if you show her that you would be a valuable asset to her castle.

“I would like that very much, my dear. But now is time for you to eat and rest, as it is rather late. The day has been rather long and eventful, not just for you.”

“Of course, my Lady,” you smile and as if on cue, the door to the sitting room opened and one of the daughters entered the room with two plates. You hadn’t even realized how hungry you were until the smell of the food hit your nostrils. The two of you ate in companionable silence, and soon enough it was time to leave her presence for the night. 

The guest room she showed you was like nothing you have ever slept in before. You were used to all sorts of places to sleep, but never have you seen a bed so big and comfortable looking.

“Good Night, my dear. I hope you sleep well,” Lady Dimitrescu said and left you to your own devices before you could answer her. You dressed down to your tank top and shorts and fell into a peaceful slumber as soon as your head hit the pillow.

***

When you next opened your eyes, you were surrounded by the familiar darkness of your dreamscape, yet something felt different. You could sense a presence at the edge pf your consciousness and soon enough, a gentle voice spoke to you “So you finally found her.”

“Huh?” you asked into the darkness, chills running down your spine. The voice giggled and a shadow crept into the edge of your vision, which soon turned into a girl, that oddly enough, had somewhat of a resemblance to you.

“Who are you?”

“You’ll have to find that our for yourself. But what matters is, that you have finally found her. My Alcina,” the girl said and looked close to tears, although she was still smiling.

“Don’t get me wrong, but I don’t think that Lady Dimitrescu belongs to anyone.” You said, defensive of the Lady. That made the girl laugh again, and you couldn’t get over the fact that she looked so much like yourself.

“You are right. But she was mine, as I was hers, a long time ago. Listen, the castle’s magic is strong, but not strong enough to give me enough time to explain everything. Just trust me, okay? Stay by her side, no matter what. Protect her. But most important: Take care of yourself. She lost us too many times already, but maybe you are the one that will break this hellish circle.” 

“I-I don’t understand!” you said desperately, trying to reach for the girl, but she was already fading.

“We will speak to each other again when the time is right. Until then, remember my words. Please protect her. Do what we couldn’t do and survive.” Were her parting words before you awoke, drenched in cold sweat. What the fuck was that?

But no matter how hard you tried to grasp at your dream and its implications, you felt your consciousness fading and fell back into a deep slumber.

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