#the whole thing with the masks is to not frighten humans with their true faces

[texeoghea]

isolated ipad doodle of The Rook bc i like him so much honestly

[angelizs]

[Strawberry tinted - Jade Leech]

Summary: Jade sighs, closing his eyes. He wants to scream. These feelings of infatuation had long involved past a simple crush. No matter how much he denied, they wouldn't leave him alone anytime soon. You weren't leaving him alone anytime soon. 

Notes: gn!reader (use of they/them), fluff and humor, just a silly romcom based on this ask! jade is so whipped for the reader, I was having so much fun writing it got away from me and almost reached 10k what??? special shoutout to ramble anon <3 now cross posted on ao3!

Jade Leech was not one for sentimentalism.

It was quite clear for everyone around him. Jade didn't show his true emotions on his face and always kept his suave persona up at all times. If he was shocked or sad or angry, no one could ever tell behind his polite smile and sharp eyes.

Even Azul and Floyd, the ones closest to him, had trouble discerning his feelings at times. Jade was very discreet with his actions and words, oftentimes leaving things to be read between the lines.

Thus, everyone and their mothers could atest to that: Jade Leech was not a sentimental person. He was calm and collected, acting as if he was above and in control of every situation, untouchable by such fickle things such as emotions.

Although, not for the knowledge of many, there was just a tiny little exception in the shape of a certain magicless human.

Not even Jade himself could tell how this came to be. It was part of the charm, how you fascinated him so easily, without any extra effort on your part. There was something appealing in your sincerity and affection, things he was not that used to. You always managed to surprise him, making him fall deeper and deeper for you everytime you caught him off guard. His heart fluttered everytime you kept up toe to toe with him, be it in friendly banter or in deeper conversations.

There were not many people who could say they were able to see Jade showing his true emotions. You just happened to be one of them. When he was with you, his smile would reach his eyes and he'd show just a bit of his teeth, his voice would take a teasing tilt laced with barely concealed affection, his face would light up like the sun whenever you asked him to tell you more about a new mushroom he was tending to or about his newest mountain expedition.

It was the first time anyone made him feel like this. While Jade had no trouble holding his usual mask in place, his heart would race faster on his chest, his hands would get slightly clammy, he'd feel the urge to bite his lips or to play with his hair to release some of the pent up energy he felt around you. And he wanted more of your time, to be able to see you between his classes and work, to spend some time relaxing together or discovering new things. 

Life at the deep sea was very different from life on land. Love at the deep sea was very different from love on land. Perhaps that's what made the whole experience so fascinating, after all. It was something he'd have never been able to have if he had stayed down there on the murky cold waters. He'd never been able to bask in these warm feelings, so new and unknown. 

Jade thought he was doing a good job, overall. He didn't change much about how he acts normally, most people wouldn't notice a single thing was different. There were times he had the impression you did, like you could see right through his façade as if it was nothing, melting away his walls and looking straight at him, for who he is. It was frightening and exhilirating at the same time, to be seen. Jade didn't know what to make of it, as of yet.

Azul and Floyd seemed to disagree, though. At first, Floyd thought it was hilarious, how his usually serious brother could have something as innocent as a crush. He'd tease Jade constantly whenever they crossed paths with the prefect just to ruffle his feathers and get a rise out of him. Seeing the unbothered Jade glaring at him with a clearly annoyed look was so entertaining. Azul didn't care, as long as it didn't affect his work at the lounge, Jade could like whoever he wanted, though he was quite curious as to how the situation came to be.

And then Jade's feelings grew and it become obvious, to them, that it was a little more than a simple crush. By the way Jade acted around you, as it seemed like he glowed when you were near him, and how he talked about you, mentioning something you did or liked or that reminded him of you every once in a while in conversation. It was subtle, as most things involving Jade were, but enough for them to take notice. It was almost at the level of his mushrooms obsession, and that was saying something.

No one dared to make a move. Having Jade being infatuated with someone broke the careful balance of things in the trio, taking him out of his position as the cold and calculating Vice-Housewarden and putting him in a more complex label. Floyd and Azul always relied on him to fall back onto should things go wrong, trusting he'd make it alk work out as someone that was above everything. Taking such a pedestal out, Jade seemed much less like some higher being and much more... human.

Not that they didn't know he was capable of feelings, of course. They were aware Jade cared about them, otherwise he wouldn't have sticked around so long by their side. It was just surprising to see someone else entering the little bubble of people Jade cared about after such a long time with it being just the two of them there.

That's why they thought Jade should do something about his crush. It was almost painful to watch you dance around each other, every interaction filled to the brim with affection, stolen glances and flirty tones. Floyd wanted to just tell you about his brother's feelings and get it over with, but he knew that wasn't the best way to go about it, as Azul had drilled onto his head after he suggested they did that. Jade insisted he was fine with things staying as they were for the time being, still not done with observing and experimenting with both his and your reactions.

"Prefect, what a wonderful surprise. How may I be of service today?"

You laugh, recognizing the irony on his tone. You tried to visit Mostro Lounge as often as you could when Jade was on the clock, even if your wallet weeped at this. He was expecting you, as he always did.

"Oh, I don't know, I don't come around too often. What would you reccomend?" You tease back, playfulness dancing in both of your eyes. It's a game you're used to, the banter coming naturally to you.

"You really should, then." He winks, somehow managing to look suave while doing so and wiping a glass at the same time. "How about... a strawberry milkshake?"

You gasp dramatically, doing an exaggerated expression of surprise. "That's my favorite! How could you know? Maybe it was destiny I came here after all..." 

That earns you a chuckle, making satisfaction swin in your stomach at warranting such a reaction. Jade's amusement is clear by the smile on his face and his scrunched up eyebrows. You can't help but smile back, warmth surrounding you as you take in the sound and commit it to memory.

"Perhaps it was. I'll bring you your drink in a minute." 

You lean on the counter of the bar, watching him work gracefully. At the corner of your eye, you can see Floyd making some kind of annoyed expression. Jade pointedly ignores him, making flourish of adding the finishing touches on the milkshake, adding in a little umbrella on top of the whipped cream, near the strawberry hanging onto the glass. 

"Here you go. I hope you enjoy it, prefect, I made it with the utmost care, after all." 

He hands the drink to you, hands making contact just for a second longer than necessary, and slides a biodegradable straw to the cup's side. You insert it on the milkshake, drinking in and closing your eyes in delight. It tasted wonderful, as all of Jade's drinks did. 

"I take it you do like it, from that reaction." He teases, leaning into where you're seated. There are other workers attending to the bar and the lounge isn't too crowded, so he can afford to keep conversation with you for some moments. You looked quite cute enjoying something so simple as if it was a five star meal.

"It's delicious! Here, have some." You spin the cup around, putting the straw right in front of him. Jade's eyes widen just the tinniest fraction as he looks taken aback by your proposal.

"Oh, it wouldn't do for me to drink something from a client. Azul would have my neck, you see." 

You roll your eyes, knowing Azul didn't intimidate him at all. Plus, what Azul didn't see couldn't hurt him. "Then don't drink it as a Mostro worker, but as my friend."

His eyes bore into yours for a few seconds before his blank expression breaks into a smile, the lighest pink tint coloring his cheeks, almost imperceptible. "Well, if you insist, I suppose I'll humor you." He tucks his longer strand of hair behind his ear before leaning in, taking a sip from your straw and closing his eyes to mimick your earlier action. It was quite a sight. Your heart beat faster and your throat seemed dry all of sudden, making you swallow on air.

"You are right, as usual. It does taste delicious." He keeps his head inclined, lips almost touching the straw as he licks them, eyes looking at you through his lashes, voice low. You grip your tigh and bite your lower lip, hoping your face won't betray how warm it feels.

"Of course, it was made by the best. I'll have to show you that guy sometime, he's really good." 

"I would be delighted to meet him."

He turns the milkshake back to you, still leaning in as his eyes sparkle with mischief. He seems as entertained by this game as you are. You put your hand on top of his, still at the bottom of the cup, and bring it closer, taking a sip while keeping eye contact. His smile softens at the corners and there's something fond on his expression. Your hand squeezes his before letting go. He opens his mouth to say something before he's called to attend another client. 

His face falls and he looks disappointed to leave this little moment behind, almost as if he forgot he was still working. He apologizes for the interruption and you wave him off, saying how it was your fault for taking so much of his time anyway. The milkshake is still as good as it was once he leaves, but it feels like it's missing something.

By the corner of the bar, Azul and Floyd stand observing the interaction. Floyd wants to tear his hair out and Azul looks constipated. How long will they have to watch you two doing this? It's about time they staged an intervention, for both yours and their sake.

Things continue like normal for some time. You still visit him at the lounge, Azul and Floyd still suffer through your blatant flirting, Jade still observes things carefully. 

And, as usual, Jade tends to his beloved mushrooms. He's gotten a new species on his latest mountain excursion, one with a pretty pink and wrinkled cap and white stem. It reminds him of your strawberry milkshake and he thinks you'd like to see them. He'd even give one to you in a carefully decorated terrarium if he was absolutely sure it wasn't poisonous. Oh well, just seeing them would have to suffice. Jade would make sure to keep them as pretty as possible.

They grew on a hardwood trunk, the soothing scent of camphor drifting through the wet air of the botanical garden. Under the canopy of dense trees, they looked even more peach in the midst of all the greenery. The wrinkles tickled his gloved fingers as he caressed the mushroom, treating it with care. The artificial river followed it's course nearby, providing with a lullaby of serenity. The scene felt comfortable, Jade felt content. He felt as much at home as he did under the sea.

Perhaps it was due to this mushy atmosphere that Jade felt compelled to talk about you. He's used to talking with his mushrooms, as he'd read that it helps them grow, but this time it felt different, like revealing a secret to a confidant. Almost like a confession. 

"The prefect came to visit me at work today, once again. Even if the menu of the lounge takes a toll on their budget, they come almost every day. I don't see why they keep doing it." 

The mushroom doesn't reply, as it is simply a fungi and it doesn't know how to talk. 

"You are right, I do know why. They want to spend more time with me, just like I do with them. It is truly a shame I'm so busy we have to resort to meeting while I'm at work. I wish I could give them my full attention, without having to go serve other customers." 

The river goes on, birds chirp outside, the wind rattles the foliage gently. 

"The fact they keep going makes me... happy. I'm glad to see them there. I would even dare to say it is the highest point of the day. I look forward to it every shift."

Naturally, a gentle smile takes over his face. His eyes are soft as he keeps caressing the mushroom's cap.

"Azul and Floyd say I should confess soon. How out of character it would be for me to do so. I have considered it before, even, but... I'm not sure if I want to change our current relationship. It is comfortable. And I don't want to lose it."

Jade sighs, full with yearning. The next bit comes out as a whisper, almost as if he spoke a little louder it would become more real than it already is. He feels vulnerable admiting such a thing, as he's not one for sentimentalism, but it also feels... right.

"I really like the prefect. I would like to take them out on a date and give them my full attention. I would like to receive their affections and have their smile directed at me. I would like to hold and to kiss them. I would like to bask in ther warmth for as long as they would let me."

It feels ecstatic, like a weight being lifted off his chest. Now, if only he could tell this to the person who was meant to hear it.

Footsteps pop the bubble of quietness, startling Jade and making him get up from the ground, dusting of his pants and calming down his heart. He was unusually jumpy, as if the admission of his feelings out loud could have reached your ears.

"Jade, here you are!"

Talk about the devil and he shall appear. Although in this case, you were more like an angel, such an ethereal presence lightning up the path, quite literally as the sun shone past the leaves and created a halo on your head. 

"Prefect. Were you looking for me?"

He's sure his voice was perfectly level, but something on his tone makes you pause and tilt your head at him, a contemplative look passing through your face fast as flash, gone as soon as he saw it. Jade feels like you saw through his act, but decided to not comment for his sake. 

"Oh, there's something I want to give you!" 

Your sing song voice breaks the tension on his shoulders. He remembers you mentioning being busy working on a surprise for him, though you wouldn't budge at any of his questions to expand more on what exactly this surprise was.

"Is it related to a certain surprise, perhaps?"

"You know me too well, Jade! C'mon, close your eyes and give me your hands."

He considers not doing so just to see your reaction, but the excitement dancing in your eyes was too endearing for him to disturb, so he complies.

"My, my, I wonder what could it be that you couldn't wait for my shift to give it to me."

"You'll see!"

You deposit something gently on his hands, a small and fragile thing by the feel of it. There are two of them, smooth with a pointy end and fitting on his palm. He opens his eyes, curious, while you stare expectantly. 

On his open hand sits a pair of handmade mushroom earrings. They are blue dotted with white spots, a twist on the classic red to fit more with his color scheme. They had been lovingly coated with paint and varnish, wrapped with silver wire. 

"There you go! Do you like it?"

Jade blinks. He can't stop looking at them, at every detail imbedded on the accessories, at the care you must have for them.

"Did you make it?"

"Yep! I saw it on magicam these days and thought of you, so I decided to try my hand at it. I get it if it's a bit wonky, that's the first time I do something like this."

"It is perfect."

He says it on a whisper, almost as if all the air on his lungs was used to push the words through the lump around his throat. His heart flutters and Jade feels the overwhelming urge to thank you over and over again. It's a simple gift, but the mere fact that you made it simply because you thought he might like it meant the world to him.

You seem mesmerized by his reaction. It is quite uncharacteristic of him to show so many emotions, but he needs to express his gratitude, he needs you to know how much he appreciates it.

"Thank you, prefect. They are truly wonderful." He pockets them carefully, making sure they won't be damaged. He can't meet your eyes. He's sure that if he does, you'll see straight through his heart, dissecate his chest and pull out all his ribs to discover the mushy feelings inside, growing like vines on his lungs. "Ah, I don't have anything to offer in return, I'm afraid."

"There's no need to give me anything back. I just did it because I wanted to make you happy, that's all there is to it."

"I... I see." Jade wasn't sure what to make of it. Your smile was sincere, your body language suggested you were entirely too comfortable, your tone of voice was it's usual melody. "You might want to be careful when making such heartfelt remarks like that, prefect. People might get the wrong idea."

His atempt at deflecting the topic was quite weak, not fooling you in the slightest. "Let them think whatever they want. I only said how I feel, after all."

And against facts there were no arguments, were there?

"I suppose you are right once more."

You only laugh, looking around the area for the first time since you arrived. You notice the mushroom quickly, it's peach color catching your attention and making you coo at it.

"Oh, it's so pretty! That's the new species you found, yes?"

You crouch near the trunk, observing the fungi. Your hair falls slightly over your eyes as you take in the sight. The sun still shines above, surrounding you and creating an illusion of dancing light specks around your figure. There was something magical on the scene itself. Jade was captivated, he couldn't look away.

"Jade, they're beautiful." You murmur, extending your hand to touch it lightly, a delighted smile spreading through your face at the tickle of the wrinkles. 

"Yes, they are." Jade agrees. He's not looking at the mushrooms. There's something much more charming for him to see.

You turn to face him, unguarded wonder on your expression, as if Jade had shown you one of the most fascinating things you've ever seen. His ears are most likely as pink as the subject of your admiration. He mirrors your smile, adapting a softer version of it.

"Can you tell me more about it, please?"

Oh, what was Jade going to do with you? You were going to kill him with an arrhythmia at the rate things were going.

"Of course, it would be my pleasure to do so."

He crouches down by your side, your legs pressing against each other. His hand comes up adjust your hair behind your ear, fingers grazing your skin just a touch more than necessary. He starts with a low whisper, making you lean into him to hear. "You see, this is a rare species called Rhodotus Palmatus. It is quite unique, as there are no others that can compare to it. It is said to be the prettiest mushroom in the world, so imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon them on my latest excursion..."

You let him ramble on, making questions or comments to show your interest. Jade feels his chest blooming with pink azaleas, throughly charmed by you.

He ends up getting late for his shift at Mostro Lounge. Before Azul could berate him for it, you took responsability and said you were the one taking his time. Azul, strangely enough, decided to let it pass and just told him to get to work. Your milkshake that day had an extra strawberry and a pink flower decorating the cup. 

After they closed up the lounge, Jade got Floyd to pierce his other ear. His brother looked at him with curiosity at the sudden request but obliged, not kicking much of a fuss. 

The eelmer found himself on quite the embarrassing situation. He was alone on the bathroom, staring at his reflection on the mirror. On one ear, his usual sturgeon scales earring. On the other, a shiny new mushroom earring. He kept staring, feeling the sensation of the extra weight, how it'd shake alongside his head movements, how the blue was the perfect shade to match his hair.

Jade took it off, staring at it in his hands. It was so small. He thought about how much time you might have spent on the details, each white dot made with the utmost care. How you might have struggled to get the shape right, as noticible by the slight imperfections around the edges of the mushroom's cap. How, through it all, the thing motivating you was to see him smiling.

Such a sentimental thing innocently resting against his palm.

His other earring was taken out as well, the three of them put on a small box at the bathroom cabinet. Jade brushed his teeth on automatic. He went to the empty bedroom, Floyd nowhere in sight, and sat on his bed. There was some kind of restlesness shivering under his skin, his heartbeat didn't feel right, his face remained warm. He had to admit, you had quite the effect on him. 

Jade Leech was not one for sentimentalism. Then why did a simple earring cause such a reaction on him?

He had to remain calm. It would not do to lose the firm grip he held on his emotions. His usual polite façade relied onto such control, on how Jade managed to keep a level head in all kinds of situations. If he broke that mask, what would become of his reputation? The cunning vice housewarden of Octavinelle, one known to be just as dangerous as his twin brother, acting all sappy with the magicless human, arguably the least threatning person in the entire campus.

Your words from earlier come to mind, sweet voice carrying like a whisper on the breeze. Let them think what they want. Either way, he had other means of making them talk, whether they thought of him as weak for showing his affection or not. It could even be advantageous, creating a more open image of him that might make them more willing to share their secrets.

Once he thinks of you, a calm look in your face as you feel at home in the middle of the foliage, listening attentively to every word he says, eyes shining with fondness, he can't be bothered about what others would think at all. He thinks of strawberry milkshake, a lazy afternoon at the lounge as you fill him in on the gossip of the freshmen. He thinks of a peach and a teal mushroom, the two making quite the pair together. He thinks of your concentrated expression as you ramble about your latest interest on a nightly walk. He thinks of your warm touch on his cold skin, never shying away from his sharp edges.

Jade sighs, closing his eyes. He wants to scream. These feelings of infatuation had long involved past a simple crush. No matter how much he denied, they wouldn't leave him alone anytime soon. You weren't leaving him alone anytime soon. 

On an uncharacteristic manner, he threw himself on the bed, his face smushed against the pillow. There was no one around to judge this slip of posture and show of vulnerability. Just him and his thoughts of you. He felt the childish urge to kick his legs and trash around, something so like Floyd it almost made him laugh. He felt feverish, his chest ached with a yearning he couldn't describe. Pathetically, he wanted to be yours, he wanted you to be his, a feeling so overwhelming he didn't know what to make of it.

He had to get a grip. 

He did kick his legs a little though. Simply to see what was so appealing about it. 

Unbeknown to him, Floyd happened to open the silent door at that exact time. He took one look at his brother's state, remembered the handmade mushroom earring he was given as a gift and your cheery presence by his side once he arrived late to his shift, and decided to close the door again. He was so not in the mood to deal with this.

It was time him and Azul did something about it. If neither Jade nor you would give the first step, Floyd had the perfect plan to give you the little push you needed.

And so, the next day had the twins walking together at the hallways of Night Raven College, moving from one class to another. It was an uneventful scene, something that could be observed everyday. Still, there was something bothering Jade. He could feel something was different, somehow, but couldn't put his finger on what it was.

After he had a mini breakdown of drowning in his own feelings in the previous night, he felt more on edge. He was sure he looked immaculate on the outside before leaving his room, uniform ironed and buttoned up impecably, hair combed properly and the usual polite smile on face. It would do no good to look frazzled. The only difference was the teal mushroom earring hanging from his right ear.

Floyd was in one of his good moods, chirpy and with a skip on his step. He seemed to be looking for someone but kept himself at Jade's side, despite them having different classes that period.

Both twin's faces light up as soon as they see you coming out of a classroom, balancing books in your hands. Floyd's scream of "Shrimpy" is enough to clear the path to your direction and to catch your attention. You try to wave at them, almost making the books fall before you catch them just in time.

"There you are, Shrimpy!"

"Good morning, prefect."

"Ah, Jade, Floyd, hi! It's good to see you guys!"

Floyd ruffles your hair playfully, making it stick in every direction and letting out a laugh. Jade finds your answering pout endearing.

"Prefect, if you wouldn't mind?" Jade offers his free arms, letting you slide most of the books to him. It was a natural action, well praticed as Jade was used to helping you with little everyday chores. Even when you tried to deny giving him more work, he insisted it was his pleasure to help. Eventually you understood that was simply his way of showing affection and let him do as he wanted to, as long as he didn't overwork himself in the process. 

"Thank you! C'mon, I have to take these to professor Trein before we have our next class with him at the end of the hallway." 

The three of you walk together, even though the twin's classrooms weren't near yours. You appreciated the company, so it wasn't like you were about to complain. Floyd wraps an arm around your shoulders, leaning on you, as Jade looks on curiously, wondering what his brother could have come up with this time.

"Say, Shrimpy, are you free tomorrow?"

"Hmm... tomorrow is Saturday, right? Then I think that I've got some free time, yes."

"Great! You know who else is free tomorrow? Jade is! How about the two of you have a date, then?"

It's as if time paused, the three of you stopping in the middle of the halls. Both you and Jade stare incredulously at Floyd, not daring to make eye contact with each other. Jade feels his heart stopping for a second as well, followed by a feeling of annoyance. Oh, he'd have a few choice words for his dearest brother once they were alone.

"I didn't hear a no from either of you, so I'm taking it as confirmation. You'll have dinner together at Mostro Lounge! Don't be late or else Azul will raise the price of the bill, you know how he is." And with that, Floyd simply turns around and leaves you two stunned into silence, watching his retreating back. 

Jade would have gone after him if he wasn't busy helping you carry your books. As it was, he was left to deal with the mess Floyd caused, as usual. He clears his throat, making you turn your attention to him. The confusion in your face would normally warm his heart, but this time he only feels dread.

"I'm sorry, prefect, I don't know where this came from. I will have a talk with Floyd for the inconvenience."

There's a pensive look on your face before you avert your eyes, words coming out in a low tone.

"Actually... I wouldn't mind going on a date with you tomorrow. If you want to, that is."

Jade feels his heart stop once more, for an entirely different reason from the last time. He should get it checked with how often it's been doing that.

"You... wouldn't?" His words are laced with tentative hope, so fragile.

"No. I'd love to, actually." Your cheeky smile blinds him like the sun and gives him the confirmation he needed. Wearing his confidence like a well worn glove, he puts on his best charming expression.

"In this case, allow me to ask you out properly. Prefect, would you like to go on a date with me tomorrow?"

You chuckle, mirth coloring your gaze as you bounce on your feet. "Why, yes Jade, I'd love that."

"Perfect. Then, I'll pick you up at your dorm for dinner. My treat."

"Oh, how charming. I'll be waiting for you!"

Before Jade can answer, the bell rings and you're reminded you do have a class to get to. You both scurry to your classroom at the end of the hallway, stealing glances between yourselves, a giddiness enveloping you. Jade arrives fashionably late for his own class with a smile on his face, teeth exposed and all. His classmates give him a wide berth, creeped out by whatever trouble that expression could bring. Jade doesn't mind, too busy thinking on what to put on the menu for your dinner to care about his classmates fearing for their lives.

Later on the day, he had quite a pleasant conversation with Floyd about the stunt he pulled. Floyd got to feel how his squeezing victims felt. He's sure it was eye opening for his brother.

Azul also got bombarded with an intricate menu request for the following day. He knew Floyd had to be involved with this somehow, but couldn't he had asked him beforehand about reserving the lounge for the night?

It was not until the next day that you saw Jade again. As promised, he was knocking politely on the door of Ramshackle by the time the clock hit six p.m.

He looks stunning. You had to take a moment to take him in fully. The smart suit fitting him perfectly, black social shoes and hair properly combed. On both his ears, blue mushrooms hanging contently. You could feel a faint scent of cologne, some earthy smell that was so much like him you couldn't help feeling endeared by it.

"Good evening, prefect. You look wonderful."

"Thank you. You're not that bad yourself." You wink, letting him in as you finish putting your shoes. 

"Not that bad? My, my, you wound me. And after I took so much time getting ready to meet your standarts, too."

You chuckle, shaking your head, sincerity taking over your teasing tone. "Oh, Jade, you already met my standarts, no need to get all dolled up."

"You flatter me." He offers his hand for you to stand up. 

"Maybe I do. Would you rather I stop?" You accept it, letting him pull you.

"No need, I'm quite content as it is." He brings your hands to his lips, grazing them so lightly you almost can't feel them. It sends shivers across your arm and heat to your cheeks. "I brought you a gift."

"Really?"

"Of course. Here, please allow me to put it on."

Jade shows you a necklace with a silver chain and a pretty peach colored shell. You brush your fingers on it, feeling the spiral pattern and it's roughness. It has a slightly salty smell, as if there was a piece of the sea itself imbedded on it.

"It's beautiful, Jade, thank you." The way you say it as if Jade had given you some priceless jewel makes satisfaction wash through him in waves. 

You turn around, holding your hair out of the way for him to put it in place. His cold fingers brush against your sensitive neck, once again making shivers rise along your skin. His hands rest on your shoulders as he leans in, mouth so close to your ear you can feel every puff of hot air.

"It was the least I could do after receiving your enchanting gift."

He pulls away, leaving your neck feeling oddly bare despite the extra weight on it. You spin around to face him, holding the shell close to your heart.

"I told you there was no need to give me anything back!"

"Don't get it wrong, this isn't pay back, prefect. I merely did it because I wanted to make you happy, that's all there is to it." He looks quite smug throwing your words back at you.

"That's not fair, you know." You pout playfully, making a low chuckle leave his lips. "Oh, I got a gift for you too! Wait just a second!"

That picks his curiosity, as he wasn't expecting anything this time. It seemed that you truly took delight in giving him things. His chest felt warm at the thought.

You come back holding a bouquet of pink hydrangeas, the shade remembering him of the newest mushroom he had showed you. It's beautifully done, wrapped in a light blue paper and tied by a pink ribbon. 

"My heartfelt emotions, to you." You make flourish when giving it to him, bending down in a bow.

His cheeks tint pink, matching the lovely shade of the flowers. He accepts them gracefully, thanking you. It's quite a sight, Jade fully buttoned up, the image of a perfect gentleman, carrying the flowers as if they were the most precious thing he owns.

"C'mon, let's get going before Azul charges us extra for the wait."

"Don't worry, he wouldn't dare to." There's a hint of pointy teeth in his smile, enough to imply the threat Azul'd be under should he try something.

You lead him out of the door, walking side by side to the mirror chamber. Neither of you are in a hurry, so you take your time to appreciate each other's company. It feels like only a second has passed by once you're in front of Octavinelle's entrance.

"Shall we enter, my dear? We can't have the food turning cold on us."

His free hand finds it's way around your lower back as he guides you through the mirror and to the lounge, navigating tables expertly. The whole establishment is empty besides the two of you, smooth jazz playing on the background and dim lights creating a cozy atmosphere. The fish pass you by on the water tanks, creating an entrancing dance, a blur of colors reflecting on the glass.

You take your seat on a table right in the middle, one more decorated than the others, a white cloth and a vase of flowers sitting on top of it. You can see the whole room from there, from the bar to Azul's VIP room's door.

Even with the formality of the situation, you find yourself comfortable in his familiar presence. Jade can talk with you for hours on end, each word capturing your attention wholly. As you wait for your order to come, you let the jazz rythm lull your conversation, playing with the shell on your necklace from time to time.

Many would say Jade Leech is a scary man. It's true, you think. The way he's entranced you is terrifyingly thrilling. At the same time, it isn't true at all, not to you at least. You know how dangerous he can be, you're not that naive, but you feel safe with him. How ironic that the sharp smile that makes so many shiver from fear is what warms your heart. 

Floyd is the one to arrive with your order, making a show of spinning it before putting it on the table. You chuckle at his antics, watching him dance as he retreats to the kitchen. 

"I hope it is up to your taste. I made sure there were only the best ingredients being used, handpicked by myself."

"It looks delicious! Not sure if I trust the handpicking part, tho. You're sure you didn't slip any poisonous mushroom on it?" You joke, taking a bite of the food. The taste disperses on your tongue and you hum contently, the warmth spreading to your body as you swallow. You take another bite, making amusement shine in Jade's eyes.

"Well, now that you mention it... you can still feel your tongue, yes?"

You almost choke in your laughter, coughing as he makes a worried face that doesn't fool you for a second. "Ugh, you're the worst. But this is so good I think it'd be worth the trip to the infirmary."

"I'm glad you like it so much, then."

"Yeah, the company isn't half bad either."

"I could say the same. You're rather delightful to have around. Much more so without being delirious from an unfortunate accident, so you don't have anything to worry about."

Your smile grows bigger at the compliment, mischief sparkling in your gaze as you wait for him to take a bite before answering. "Awn, you care about me? That's cute."

It's Jade's turn to splutter, although he does so in a much more dignified and contained way than you did. If it wasn't for the rising of his shoulders and the widening of his eyes, you wouldn't be able to tell he was fazed at all. Lucky for you, you took notice of his reactions as much as he did for yours. Before he can retort, there's an interruption in the shape of a certain Housewarden. 

"Is everything going alright? How do you like the food?" Azul has a polite costumer smile plastered on his face, but his curiosity is obvious. You and Jade exchange a glance between yourselves.

"It's wonderful, as always."

"I see, I see." He pauses for a second too long, taking in the scene fully. Jade glares at him once they meet eyes. You stifle a giggle. "I wouldn't want to take more of your time. Please continue to enjoy your evening." 

"We will." Jade replies curtly, eyes boring into Azul until he's out of view. He turns to you, composure back in place, which only makes you want to laugh more. You pretend you didn't notice it, taking another bite from your dish.

"You know..." You catch his attention, making him look inquisitively at you. "Your plate looks really good too. What is it?"

"Interested, are we? It's a mushroom risotto, made with mushrooms I collected on my mountain expeditions."

"Oh, I think I saw one similar to this on the cafeteria once!"

"Yes, the club contributes with foraging some of the ingredients used on the cafeteria's dishes."

"Woah, that's so cool. How come I didn't know this?"

"You didn't ask." His eyes wrinkle at the corner, clearly pleased with your praise to his beloved club.

"How was I supposed to ask this? It's way too specific!"

"Hm, I suppose it is."

You stick your tongue at him, knowing it's just like Jade to pull something like this. "As recompensation, I want a bite!"

"It does taste delicious." He takes another bite and chews slowly, eyes locked with yours the entire time. 

"C'mon Jade! Please?" You bat your lashes at him playfully, although it seems to have some effect. He gets a good amount of it on his fork before lifting it to your lips. You take it eagerly, humming.

"Well?" There's a certain antecipation on his tone.

"You're right, it tastes as good as it looks. Which is saying a lot."

"If you would like, I can cook it for you on another occasion."

Your eyes widen, the sincerity on his voice taking you by surprise.

"For free?"

"Of course, I wouldn't charge you for it. It would be my pleasure, truly."

"Then I accept! We could cook it together at Ramshackle sometime next week." 

"That would be perfect."

"It's a date then." You wink at him, patting yourself on the back for your smoothness.

"Enjoying this one so much you can't wait for another?" He answers with a smirk, tilting his head, his earrings tilting alongside it.

"How could I not enjoy it with such a charming gentleman across me?"

"You will make me blush if you keep saying things like this, prefect." 

"That means it's working! You'll fall in love with me in no time."

You chuckle, but Jade's gaze only softens. His eyes look so tender it makes your breath catch on your throat. You can't look away from him, from the way his smile curves just right.

"Can I bring the dessert now?" Floyd asks, making both of you turn to him in surprise. He scratches the back of his neck and stand casually at the end of the table as if he hadn't sneaked his way to it.

"We haven't finished eating yet."

"So?"

The twins hold eye contact for a few seconds, surely having some conversation you stand clueless about.

"So. You can bring it later." 

"Ah? But it's ready, shouldn't I bring it now? Shrimpy would like it fresh, right? You were the one that said that!"

Jade sighs at his brother stubborness. You stifle another giggle. 

"Floyd, I don't mind eating it a bit after it was done. I'd prefer to finish the main dish first." 

"Hm, if Shrimpy says so. I'll see ya in a bit."

"Now he listens..." Jade comments as you both watch him leaving. The frustation in his voice is a little funny, honestly. You sip on your drink.

It goes on like this. As your conversation with Jade follows it's usual course, Azul and Floyd interrupt constantly, always with a different excuse. You can see Jade getting fed up with their antics, but as much as you sympatize with him, you can't help but find the whole thing rather amusing.

Dessert consists of a mouth watering strawberry shortcake, the whipped cream melting in your tongue, the strawberries, coated in sugar, fresh and sweet, the cake fluffy. You make a different pleased sound at every bite, savoring it to the max. Jade seems fixated on your reactions, not paying nearly as much attention to his own slice as he's doing to you.

The jazz on the background takes a slower rhythm, as if accompanying the passage of the night. You feel at ease, smiling at Jade once you finish eating your slice. His intent gaze on you holding an unspoken weight, affection shining through. It makes your own feelings scream at you to do something, and that's what you do. It feels right to take his hand resting onto the table and interwine your fingers with his.

The touch of your hands sends eletricity through his skin, shocking his heart. Your eyes are littered with stars as you look at him, the colorful sea life reflecting on them beautifully. You look beautiful. The way his name falls from your lips, dripping as sweet as honey, makes him want to hear you say it again and again. He's addicted to your charm, letting himself drown on it.

Jade wants to confess his feelings to you at that moment, spill his mushy insides in your palms, transfer the warmth from his chest to your cheeks. He licks his lips, glancing at yours looking so inviting and soft, and opens his mouth to say it, to give you the key to his heart, to trust you and give himself to you fully, to be frighteningly open.

Before a single word can make it past his throat, there's a loud crash on the background that breaks the moment, making you jump and look around in alarm. Never in his life has Jade felt so frustrated, teeth digging through his bottom lip so hard he feels the coppery taste of blood.

There's a hiss of Floyd's name and a slurred complaint of Azul's. The two emerge from the bar, looking slightly frazzled. 

"Are you two ok?" You ask, more curious than concerned. 

"Perfectly. No need to worry about us." Azul smooths out his shirt, not really looking you in the eyes.

"Shrimpy, when are you gonna make a move?" Floyd pouts, arms crossed.

Jade's glare is a promise of pain in the future for the two that dared to interrupt him once more. How could Azul and Floyd be so irritating when they were supposed to be helping him? He makes to get up and have a talk with them in private, being at the limit of his patience, but you hold his hand closer to yourself, making him stay put.

"If you two leave us to have a private moment I'll do it." 

His eyes widen at your boldness, no hint of a joke in your tone. 

"Bet. C'mon Azul, let's leave the lovebirds alone." Floyd basically drags Azul away with him, finally leaving the two of you. 

"Prefect..."

You don't let him continue, bringing his hand closer to your heart, to the shell necklace, and taking a deep breath before letting it all out, looking at him in the eyes the entire time. You feel a rush of energy run through your nerves, the moment you've been waiting for finally having arrived.

"Jade, I really like you. I enjoy every moment I spend by your side, even when you can't give me your full attention. I know I'm in your thoughts and you're in mine, too. I love to hear you talking about your interests and I feel safe when I'm with you. You have my trust and my affections. My heart beats faster because of you. These are my heartfelt emotions. I'd be really happy if you feel the same for me, my pearl."

You close your eyes, bringing his hand to your lips and kissing his knuckles, holding it tenderly. Your thumb press against his pulse point, relief flooding you at confirming it's as accelerated as your own. Your look at him through your lashes, seeing his face is coated in the pretty pink you love so much.

He calls you by your name, each letter molding perfectly to his lips, as if it was choosen to be said by him. "Do you have any idea of the effect you have on me?"

You smile gently, squeezing his hand and letting it go. "Hm, no, I don't think so. Please, elaborate on it."

Jade gets up from his seat, standing in front of you before kneeling down, taking your hand in a similar way you did with his.

"Jade, don't you think it's a bit early to ask for my hand in marriage?"

He chuckles, his face radiating so much fondness there's no doubt in your mind that he reciprocates. He takes your hand to cup his cheek while he speaks, nuzzling into it and looking up at you, making himself vulnerable, as close to a lovesick expression as you'd ever see on him.

"Dearest, I'm most devoted to you. There's not a day that passes by without you filling up my thoughts. You have carved your way into my heart in a way none were able to before. I want to give you anything you may wish for, as long as you'll give me the one thing I ask of you. Would you allow me the pleasure of belonging to you, just as you would belong to me?"

Your thumb brushes against his skin, passing through and pulling on his lips as your lidded eyes take them in. Jade lets you do as you please, a show of great trust from someone as guarded as him. 

"Of course. I'd love to."

It's fascinating, the way a smile blooms on his face and his eyes light up, as if you had promised to give him the world. Perhaps you had, you just didn't know it. Your hand pulls him closer, making him get up and put his hands on your shoulders, leaning in, foreheads touching.

"I recall you saying something about wanting to hold me and kiss me, right? What are you waiting for?" 

That makes him pause. "Wait. Were you listening to me on that day, at the botanical garden?"

"Maybe, maybe not, who knows." You sing song, the glint of amusement dancing in your eyes enough to answer him. He chuckles incredulously, wondering just how used to your presence he was to not have noticed you approaching him then. 

"How secretive of you, prefect." He sounds proud as he says it. Maybe he's rubbing off on you after spending so much time together. "Very well. If that is what you wish for, I will do it." His thumb and forefinger hold onto your chin, tilting your head to meet his easier. "May I?" His low voice, laced with desire and yearning leaves you breathless before the kiss even has started. You whisper your consent, closing your eyes in antecipation. 

Jade, the bastard, teases you by leaving a little kiss by the corner of your mouth before grazing his lips against yours in a feather like touch, making a needy noise leave your throat. You can feel his smile against your lips, his hot breath mixing with yours, his nose brushing against yours in a tender gesture before your lips finally meet with a firm yet gentle hold.

He tastes like strawberries. You let out a delighted groan, your hands coming up behind his head to play with his hair, pulling him even closer to you.

As he makes to pull away, you nibble on his lip, getting a surprising whine in response. It only fuels you, the sound reverbating through your head like a prayer. It sure felt like a holy experience, to get such a sound from him. 

His face is flushed a pale pink and his hair is messy, lips red from kissing. It's the most beautiful sight you've ever seen. You're sure you don't look much better, but you can't bring yourself to care, the ecstasy pumping your blood and making your heart race.

Your cheeks hurt from how wide they're being spread by your smile, one so sincere you couldn't fight it even if you wanted to. You brush your nose against his, making a loving sigh escape his lips.

"...How do you like it?" For once in his life, Jade Leech let's himself be vulnerable, completly at your mercy. You feel powerful, at the top of the world having him in your palms like that, drinking up the sight. Although you know, he's got you just as good.

"Strawberries."

There's confusion on his voice as he repeats the word, taken aback by how suddenly you said it, how firm your tone was. You bury your face on his neck, whispering your answer against his skin. 

"You taste like strawberries. My favorite."

"Oh. I see it was a good idea to have strawberries on our dessert." There's the usual satisfied tone on his voice by knowing his plan was a success.

"You planned this?" You laugh, knowing you should have expected it from him. There is a buzzing of contentment swallowing you whole, fondness swimming in your chest.

"Naturally. I wanted it to be a most joyous experience."

"Well, you succeded. You taste delicious." You lick your lips for extra effect, nuzzling your head on his neck and leaving a little bite. "Still do."

You can feel the shivers of his skin against your lips. You pull on his hair a bit and hear the yearning sigh he lets out. It's exhilirating. You pull away, coming face to face with his lovely infatuated expression, one reserved just for you.

"One more?"

"As you wish, my dear."

Your lips meet once more, the pressure of his against yours making you light headed. It's wonderful, he's wonderful. You could get used to this.

Unfortunately, the moment is broken by the loud cheers and polite clapping from the backgroung. Floyd whistles as Azul congratulates you two. Jade's hands' grip on your shoulders tightens and you can feel the annoyance from before coming back tenfold, his red and swollen lips not making his sadistic smile any less treathining.

"And just what do the two of you think you are doing? Haven't you interrupted enough?" 

Your head falls back on his shoulder, not being able to hold your laughter anymore, your giggles against his ear making him soften the slightest bit, almost enough to forgive the two noisy merman. Almost.

He could deal with them later. Right now, he had much better things to do, as your breath tickling his neck reminds him. 

Jade Leech is not one for sentimentalism... perhaps he could make an exception for you.

Masterlist

[heartfullofleeches]

That carnal urge to bite someone at 2am translated to a fic about remorseful/crybaby monster reader and the yan who cares for them [blood, light gore mentions]

A soft knock sounds against their window.

Ringing the doorbell at this hour would wake their neighbors dog and the whole neighborhood by proxy. Good, getting better. Such as the same, knocking on the window was far too strange of a greeting for their guest to be your average late night visitor like a police officer or a neighbor concerned about the blood trails in your yard. A burglary possibly, but one capable of such a gentle knock couldn't possibly mean any harm. At the very least they knew they could answer the door unarmed. Wouldn't want to frighten the wrong crowd.

Muffled sobs battle the raging winds for supremacy. In terms of filling someone with dread for the unknown, the winner was clear as the skies were bleak. Those cries were just - wrong. Like the howls of a dog past it's prime who had already been put to rest; whimpering those final howls on repeat like a broken record. The type of cry that makes you feel the urge to help, but the closer you get the more you realize something is terribly wrong. The home owner unlocks the dead bolt without a second thought on the matter.

"Car...mine."

It's the smell that hits them first. That awful stench akin to corroding metal masking a gentler scent of moss after a fresh rain. It always smelled like that regardless of the weather, and the body wash they used. Impossibly dark eyes cast clear streams of tears down a crimson stained face - rusted talons ripping holes in the sweater the homeowner misplaced just a few days ago. The creature sniffles.

"Sorry... I'm sorry, I did it again, Carmine. Please help me..."

Carmine. True be told, that wasn't their name. They thought of changing it legally, but hadn't gotten around to it yet. That word was the first thing it ever said to them. So proud to have correctly guessed the color of their attire. That one word alone is probably what had kept both of them alive by now. It stopped them from putting a bullet through the poor thing so that had to count for something. They'd gladly be any color of the rainbow for this creature.

"Oh my dear sweet Y/n-" They bite their tongue, backpedaling onto their concern as they hold the creature's hands. "Who's gone and ruined that sweater I gave you? It looked so good on you."

The creature fights back another onslaught of tears. "I got hungry and you weren't home. It's... rude to enter houses without permission - so I made sure the door was unlocked first."

Carmine swathes the beast with their loving arms, and the robe ripped straight from their shoulders. They felt terrible for the sorrow they caused, but the pain was a double edge sword for all those nights they spent copped up alone afraid their innocent monster had gotten themselves killed or worse. Found another human to do it's bidding.

"Now, now - my home is yours, my sweet. I left a key under the mat for that very reason. You can't go into stranger's homes and do as you please, despite how polite and kind you are. For now, let's get you cleaned up and in some fresh clothes. Sound good, Dove?"

The creature nods. Carmine presses a kiss to their damp cheek. "Good."

-

The bath is nice. It enjoys the bath. When Carmine brushes the collated blood out its hair and cleans the flesh beneath its claws everything goes quiet in its head. They're able to hide away from the insatiable hunger and the screams. Able to fit the mold their human body created and truly be -

"Y/n? Are you with me now, angel?"

You nod again, reaching out to touch their face. "Mm.."

Carmine kisses the ring of your thumb. "You've spoken enough for one day, dear. I know punctuation can be hard for you."

Your tongue lulls against your lower jaw, filling your mouth with a bitter taste. You wanted to talk more with them, but they were right. It hurt to speak. To do anything human. Even touching them caused you pain. You can't feel the warmth of their skin - only the coarse veins beneath. Your stomach ties in knots.

Carmine's arms shoot forward seeing you double over in pain, clutching your abdomen. "Sweetness is everything alright? Tell me what's wrong if it won't hurt you more."

You can hear them again. Those screams. Cries echoed into the night, gone as quickly as they began. Gone and still there - a nightmare of your own making. Killing off humans to satisfy your hunger, to make them stop begging for help or calling you what you are. They may be gone, but they live forever in your memories. Soon, Carmine will join that choir.

"You'll be gone too if I come back."

Carmine's heart sinks in their chest. They've never heard such certainty in your voice before. "Dear what on earth are you talking about?"

"All those people.. Gone because of what I've done. I'm going to hurt you too someday.. I'm going to kill you and you'll be suck in my head just like the rest of them. I don't want you to get hurt"

As swift as their descent, Carmine's emotions find new vigor in your caring words. An angel, an absolute angel you were. How precious of you to show your concern and to even think that a fate like that wouldn't be a fantasy out of their wildest dreams. Carmine struggles to contain their excitement as they roll up their sleeves. There was just one problem with your theory.

"Y/n... Darling, you wouldn't hurt me even if you were starving, but on the off chance that you did - it would be okay. I have dedicated myself to you and your needs. I would die a happy, smiling fool if I met my end at your hand not to mention carrying a permanent spot in your memory. If you doubt me, let's put my words to the test with dessert. I'm sure you still have room to fill."

You slowly shake your head as they flex their arm - jaws erupting with a flaring ache. "No... I can't."

"But you can, and you will." Carmine plucks a razor from the shower rack and does what's needed. The first petal of fresh blood in the water is all it takes. You lunch at them, dual blades of teeth hooking into the meat of their arm. The human set meant for camouflage and fo latch onto prey; thinner, sharp-edged fangs a tool for wrangling the flesh from their bones. You shred through to muscle before your brain can catch up with your body's speed, warm blood gushing down your parched throat. Their body jerks and flails, and a sharp ringing pierces your ears that leave you unable to tell what the sounds leaving their mouth could possibly be. You have a feeling you know what they are, but nothing could prepare you for the soft hand that falls on your head and the noise you first hear clear.

"That tickles, Y/n, cut it out!"

Carmine is... laughing. Tears pour down their face like rain and their every breath is labored, but they smile through it all the same with a cheesy grin that made you feel a lot less hungry for some reason. It hurt like a bitch, but you both were crying now. You both shed the same tears, and nullified each other's pain. You were both still here, both still human in your own twisted way.

"See, dear? Smiles all around - except for on that pretty face or yours. Do cheer up for my sake, won't you? If the day comes that you take my life, I want to be the happiest memory you've got. So glad to be with you that this smile makes all those haunts met glimmers of the past."

[ascendedheavenly6]

Meta out of this Alice in Wonderland Scan No.6

Scan from @restructuralcommittee!!

All information and interpretations will be a synthesis between the No.6 Novel & Manga + This Alice in Wonderland Analysis from the Lewis Carroll version!

*This whole analysis was copy-pasted from my Discord*

Shion as the White Rabbit!!

HONESTLY, THIS IS A GOOD CHOICE NGL. I remember someone said Shion acts like a catalyst of the story, one way or another. You know now as I read the novel, Shion is the catalyst to the titular No.6 as he learns and relearns and then his background and experience mesh up to shift the direction of the setting. Shion’s curiosity and nervous demeanor of ‘down the rabbit hole’ is really like him too Also— on the website on Alice in Wonderland analysis stuff, they noted White Rabbit’s

The White Rabbit is nervous and always in a hurry. However, he is confident enough about himself to contradict the King of Hearts.

This is also fitting because Shion’s position later on (and even before) as a prestigious figure and highlights Shion’s personality as prestigious but not prideful, I think? Or is the exposure of being the ‘new person’ in Alice’s human world that made him weird at first glance…?

Nezumi as the Mad Hatter-

Technically this makes sense on multiple faces. One on the fictional effects of people, even though there’s actually not a lot of info about Mad Hatter as far as I know, he (or at least his archetype) remains quite popular, I think that’s also the influence that Nezumi has on reader: some sprinkle of mysterious and interesting narrative. Two is that in the original Alice in Wonderland, I just found out that Mad Hatter isn’t the original name - it’s only Hatter or some variation of that - which is kind of like Nezumi’s identity like ‘masking, unintentionally?’

But also here there’s a bit about Mad Hatter that on other opinions is that he keeps changing his personality, but his devotion and eccentricity remain true. I think this speaks to Nezumi a lot because he sticks to his promises no matter what, and his presence has kind of a charm - whether it’s in the theatrical dramatic sense or genuine - there is a presence of Nezumi that makes him consequently, quite lonely, or becomes more significant (Eve, VC, or his knife skills, or his high empathy) that it’s kind of ironic when it touches his survival instinct to stay low

ANOTHER THING IN THE ANALYSIS STATES THAT

He occasionally is very rude and provokes Alice during the tea party. When he is called upon by the Queen, he is very nervous and frightened

That kinda fits Nezumi because I think that in the end he is still human and he expresses his fear of Shion pretty often

That kinda fits Nezumi because I think that in the end he is still human and he expresses his fear of Shion pretty often

Also apparently Mad Hatter is a term to describe workers who were poisoned by Mercury exposure? I haven’t thought about how this fits it but uh - the more you know.

Inukashi as Cheshire Cat

Okay for one, that’s a very contrasting choice considering what Inukashi has attached themselves to, but also there isn’t a prominent dog-like character in Alice as far as I know.

But - the analysis website, states that Cheshire Cat actually listens to Alice’s concerns and guides her toward Wonderland itself. Cheshire Cat is mischievous, yet also a guidance is a guidance figure too - quite explicitly. This characterization is something that I think Inukashi also has because Inukashi, lovingly raised in a cruel environment, would still lend a hand and also express care like when they interrogated Nezumi or eventually wished Shion and Nezumi to be back safely Also as a guide - could be looking at Inukashi’s role in baby Shion’s life too?

But I don’t want to go among mad people,’ Alice remarked. Oh, you can’t help that,’ said the Cat: we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.’ How do you know I’m mad?’ said Alice. You must be,’ said the Cat, or you wouldn’t have come here.’ Alice didn’t think that proved it at all; however, she went on And how do you know that you’re mad?’ To begin with,’ said the Cat, a dog’s not mad. You grant that?’ I suppose so,’ said Alice. Well, then,’ the Cat went on, you see, a dog growls when it’s angry, and wags its tail when it’s pleased. Now I growl when I’m pleased, and wag my tail when I’m angry. Therefore I’m mad.'

(sorry for the sucky format-)

Simple arguments but remain credible because one is a resident of that unknown place is also very Inukashi…

I’m sorry Rikiga but idk what the hell are you and I don’t wanna analyze you cause uh

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

Whumptober Day 10: Branding/Scarring/Collars

Demon in disguise AU. Frustrated and amused both at Tommy's unwillingness to give up on his faith, Dream sees himself in the zealotry and stubbornness- and decides he’s a far better owner than any God could be. Warnings for heavy religious themes, a whole lotta blasphemy (Dream is literally a demon here, he doesn’t have the kindest view on Christianity or God), imprisonment, restraints, abuse, torture, possessive behaviour, mutilation, body dysmorphia, dehumanisation, some mild body horror, Tommy telling people to kill themselves because he’s Tommy, suicidal ideation, infantilisation, and a whole lotta God complex.

ao3 link

—— “Our- our father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy-“

Tommy screamed as the white-hot touch of hellfire made contact with his skin, cutting off his pathetic prayers to a God that had forsaken both him and Dream.

Tracing the flesh of his shoulder with a mocking gentleness, Dream pressed down hard until he could smell the burning. He moved his finger to the side, pressing another circle into his skin like a brand.

Moving his finger down a little, letting the touch of the fire burn as he did, he dug burning claws into his skin, and dragged a semi-circle across his skin slowly, making sure each inch burnt until it dug deep into the flesh, enough to leave a mark. Screaming devolved into a howling, feral noise, pure agony making a human become a frightened beast, desperate to free themselves. Tommy struggled, pulling at his chains, but he was so weak all he did was delay the inevitable, causing the pain to prolong itself.

Dream let the flames dim down after he was certain he’d left a mark, shifting his hands back to match his human disguise. He didn’t need the form of the priest now, he supposed- he wasn’t leading his oblivious flock astray from the almighty idiot they naïvely worshipped, and he’d already ensnared the one true devotee in chains of gold and thorns- but honestly, he liked it. His true form felt alien to him, a mockery of what he’d once been as an angel before he dared question that he was anything more than a tool. Being human, at least superficially, felt better than the burdens of horns and hooves marking him as forsaken by a cruel God.

Besides, he looked almost like Tommy in this form. Demons didn’t have such quaint concepts as family, but he liked to think of the boy as perhaps as close to that as he could get. It was comforting to imagine himself human enough for that sort of love.

He took a moment to look at the brand forming on Tommy’s skin- messy and wobbly due to his struggles, but recognisably a smiley face, that of the mask Dream wore in his true form and perhaps the only thing he liked about it. It might not have meant anything to Tommy, but it was for when he finally broke that stubborn faith of his, not for now. It marked Tommy as his, staking a claim on such a devout soul brought low, a prized trophy. More than that, it meant he could keep Tommy safe. He might be “evil” by the closed-minded view of God and humanity, but for a demon, he was downright saintly.

“See, look, there we go, all done.” Dream said gently to try and soothe Tommy’s panicked breaths. Attempting to corrupt him subtly hadn’t worked, guiding him and slowly trying to turn him against the Lord, so he’d turned to extremes to make him recant his faith. But extremes didn’t necessarily just mean pain- it meant whatever he needed to tempt him into falling willingly, or at least something approaching that. Such a thing would be easier if he could get Tommy to not hate him, and besides, he liked the human. His faith was misplaced and naïve, and his stubbornness was annoying, but he was as kind as any human, while being far less boringly predictable. He had a spine, at least, enough to outwill a good number of demons.

Until he’d met Tommy, Dream had always had to choose between the cutthroat politics of Hell, where loyalty was a joke and if anyone got the opportunity to screw him over for selfish pleasure and power, they would, or his job of tempting humans, all so easily swayed with sweet words and a calm presence into throwing their souls away, lacking any individuality. Tommy was unique, all of the positives of both with none of the negatives. He was the closest Dream had ever come to having a friend.

Perhaps the two of them were caught somewhere between angel, demon and man. Perhaps the two of them were the only ones who could ever understand each other.

Tommy, pale and feverish-looking, still managed to give him an intense glare, fire still burning bright in his eyes even as he struggled to keep them open. “The Lord will forgive you for this. But I sure as fuck won’t.”

Dream sighed, conjuring a roll of bandages. “You’ve never met that bastard. Stop talking about things you have no knowledge of.”

“I’ve read the Bible, dumbass. It’s more fuckin’ trustworthy than a devil. You’re just pissed Daddy kicked you out, aren’t you? You big ba-“

“Shut up.” Dream growled, infernal fire mixing into his practised human tone. His fangs broke through his gums, claws digging out of his nail bed, as all he could think of was blind wrath. The humiliation and pain of being cast from Heaven, tarred and slurred as a great evil simply for taking on a name, an identity, a will, bubbled up in him, and even as he glared, approaching what now to him was just prey like a cat did a mouse, burning sulphur tears pricked at his eyes, anger and agony mixing into one.

The insolent boy yelped, opening his mouth to speak, but as Dream’s spine extended, tearing open the skin on his back, he smacked his face with his bony, half-formed tail, slashing a line across from one side of his face to the other, a diagonal, deep gouge from his jaw to his brow. Even in his anger, he took care to not dig too deep, break through something unfixable. Something approaching tough love still remained in his bestial mind, as twisted and unrecognisable as it was to any human.

As quickly as the pure rage took him over, it abated, and he was staring, horrified, at Tommy weakly sobbing. His eyes were no longer filled with hate, but pure fear and terror. Dream couldn’t feel guilt; it was an emotion that was worthless for temptation and sin, but he imagined the sinking feeling in his gut was as close as possible as he could get to it.

“Shit, shit, shit. Okay, uh, stay still.” It was a pointless thing to say- the chains keeping Tommy trapped weren’t something a human could break through, forged in the fires of Hell themselves. There was enough slack to allow him free roam of the space between worlds he was kept in, and the iron collar around his neck wasn’t too heavy, Dream wasn’t cruel, but they were tight and strong. “I- I, I shouldn’t have- just, let me fix it, m’kay?”

He shifted back into the form of the priest, his features dissipating easier than they appeared, before he ran a gentle hand across Tommy’s wound, sewing it shut with dark energy, leaving a crackling, pitch-black scar. Tommy hissed in agony, weakly lifting his hand to the crack and flinching away on touch, his fingertips darkened from the contact.

“W-wha’ did you do to me?” His voice was weak, wavering. It sounded both wrong, painfully unTommylike, and also satisfying. He was so close. So close to saving Tommy from the same fate he befell, wasting his life on a God who neglected him.

And yet, Lucifer was the evil one.

“I made things better!” Dream grinned, despite the fact he didn’t feel exactly happy. “See, look, what did your God do? Nothing! And I helped you. Am I so bad, huh? Or do you think maybe that stupid book of yours might be wrong?”

“You fucking branded me.”

Dream blinked. “Yes? I mean, I know it hurts, but it’s far better that people know you’re mine. There’s a lot of demons far worse than I am, y’know.”

“Oh, so you fucking own me? Yeah, you’re such good guys. Kill yourself; it’s the only way the Lord will ever forgive you.” Even with his eyes half-closed from exhaustion and blood loss, his glare was sharper than any blade. He really did seem more demon than human sometimes.

“Of course I do. You’re part of my flock, right?” Tommy never seemed to mind that before he knew he was a demon. Dream didn’t really get how it was a big deal. “Everyone else belongs to me. Once they die, their soul will be mine to do with as I please. It’s better than letting them suffer and die for some cruel tyrant of a God, right?”

Tommy laughed, with no humour in his voice. “Well, go fuck yourself, because I’m not going to be- be your fucking property in the next life. I’ve already had enough of it in this. I’d rather fucking kill myself.”

“That’s a sin, y’know? So go ahead.”

“I-“ Tommy pouted, clearly frustrated he couldn’t find an answer. “Fucking die.”

Dream burst into wheezing laughter at the sight. Tommy looked ridiculous, small and curled up in the corner with such a childish expression, a scar across one of his eyes and a crude smiley-faced brand on his shoulder, in oversized green pyjamas that fit awkwardly on him, his hair wild, and the shackles and collar holding him sticking out like a sore thumb against his pallid skin.

He didn’t get why they offended Tommy so much. Humans existed to be property, either of Heaven or Hell, and out of them, at least Hell was fun. Sometimes. The collar was just saying the quiet part out loud, and Dream had thought humans liked honesty. Maybe that was another thing demon-like with him, but he doubted it. Most of the time, he was painfully honest.

Honestly, though, Dream didn’t care that much. He liked Tommy like this. Like how he was, innocent and stupid, when he was created to serve. Tommy was close enough to an angel in his loyalty and ridiculous zealotry; he almost was like Dream back then, a tool, an object, miserable. But unlike Dream, he could be saved from being cast aside cruelly. No, he could willingly fall, and he could be treated kindly, not having to be stuck within two worlds. He’d always have someone close to family, something no demon or angel was able to have. It might have been a gilded cage, but so was Heaven, and at least Dream actually gave a shit about him as anything more than a mindless follower and an ego boost.

Perhaps, to a naïve human, that might still seem cruel. But one day, Tommy would thank him. One day, Tommy would see that they were the same, with their own chains, collars, and brands, and Dream was just showing him that in the kindest way possible.

One day, Tommy would realise he was the closest thing to a loving God he foolishly believed in.

[dzthenerd490]

File: Trick r Treat

SCP#: AHA

Code Name: Sam, the spirit of Halloween.

Object Class: Keter

Special Containment Procedures: Foundation satellites are to monitor every location where Halloween is being celebrated within the United States on every October 31st. This is done in hope of stopping or at the very least understanding SCP-AHA. At this moment in time, the Foundation barely knows anything about SCP-AHA and thus cannot implement proper containment procedures until more information is gathered. 

Description: SCP-AHA is a tiny person that stands only 2.5 feet tall, wearing what looks to be orange pajamas for a toddler and a sack over his head with buttons over where the eyes would be. Whether this is SCP-AHA's true face or if there is something under the mask is unknown. It is also unknown if SCP-AHA is anomalous in any way or just has the luck or perhaps cursed ability to always be around horrific and Halloween themed disasters. It should also be noted these events are always cataloged during the night of October 31st and never earlier or later. 

When SCP-AHA manifests it always seems to be around other anomalous events. The Foundation has managed to record a small amount of these events, but all readers should bear in mind there are quite possibly hundreds of other such events. Please see Addendum X-47 for details

***

Addendum X-47

The following is a list of anomalous events taking place over October 31st when SCP-AHA always appears. None of these instances have been dated due to [data expunged].

- SCP-AHA was spotted walking down a street and it just so happened to be passing by a home belonging to a family of serial killers. For the rest of the night the father and son would poison children who behaved badly around them and use their heads as jack-o-lanterns. According to recovered files, none of the family members showed any signs insanity or past crimes. It's still up for debate on whether this is the result of SCP-AHA or perhaps just a coincidence. The local police received an anonymous tip form the Foundation, after they were all arrested, they were processed as D Class into the Foundation. 

- There was the incident where a group of pranksters ended up getting attacked by a bus full of cursed zombies. They originally tried to play a prank on one of their more easily frightened classmates and dressed as the dead children in the local legend. Later it turned out the legend was true, and the dead children form the story rose up from the river where their bus crashed and killed the children. The only one who escaped was the girl who was the victim of the initial prank. SCP-AHA was there and watched the whole thing happen. The next day the Global Occult Coalition sent a small Strike Team to destroy the cursed zombies while they rested. The survivor was never found. 

- SCP-AHA was reported watching over a pack of female werewolves, as they transformed and ate their prey. Their victims were a group of unsuspecting men that got seduced by the werewolves. These particular werewolves were recognized as the skin peeling breed which are considered the most elusive since they never leave behind DNA that can be traced back to them. Though the Foundation was lucky enough to spot this happening and thus the next morning when they were human again the Foundation rounded them all up and processed them as D Class to help with werewolf testing and experimentation.

Interviews with the werewolves show that they still had family out there who were werewolves. They were apparently following a tradition where the youngest girls of every family would go out and seduce men on Halloween to have a massive feeding. Efforts to find the other family members and have them contained as well is ongoing. Because they rely on seduction to catch prey it is recommended that Foundation staff with known werewolf fetishes are to never interact with any of them. 

- SCP-AHA was seen at the doorstep of a person holding his basket out. The person who came to the door complimented SCP-AHA on his costume and gave him a candy. Nothing anomalous ended up happening though this instance was still recorded as it could be essential information regarding SCP-AHA. Perhaps it's possible to survive an encounter with SCP-AHA and avoid anomalous events around it so long as candy is offered. More testing and observation are needed to confirm this. 

***

These are the most notable events regarding SCP-AHA as all other anomalous incidents happening around October 31st are either speculated to have SCP-AHA or have vague evidence he was even there. SCP-AHA was discovered in 2007 though it's believed he has existed for much longer. There is unfortunately not much else that can be confirmed form this as SCP-AHA sightings are rare and often don't see SCP-AHA himself as anything other than an observer. More research is required to conclude anything substantial about SCP-AHA. 

.

SCP: Horror Movie Files Hub

[luthienne]

Louise Glück, from Averno

“Sometimes you leave your hair at the bus station & get on the bus & as your face falls asleep against the window you realize it is all your body now, everything between you & the pieces you lost once,”

Aracelis Girmay, from Kingdom Animalia; “Portrait of the Woman As a Skein”

Marie Howe, from Magdalene: Poems; “The Girl at 3″

“She knew herself, how she had slowly, over years, become a cat, a wolf, a snake, anything but a girl. How she had wrung out her girlhood like death.”

Catherynne M. Valente, from Deathless

“Many girls lock themselves up, / become pantries, closets. / Some, like trees, grow bark, / and others, like rivers, / burble into dimpled pools.”

Eli Mandel, from “Rapunzel (Girl in a Tower)"

“Sometimes I forget. I become a volatile spirit / a butterfly out of its wings, a blooming flower / in decay. I fall in love with ghosts and cry / when they flesh out,”

Mahtem Shiferraw, from Fuschia; “Being a Woman”

Aracelis Girmay, from “Portrait of the Woman as a Skein”

“Not every girl survives the forest. / Sometimes she becomes it.”

Catherine Garbinsky, from “The Princess & the Thorns,” Even Curses End

Rebecca Solnit, A Field Guide to Getting Lost

“I was something else, not a girl, not a wolf, something blank-eyed, tired,”

Catherynne M. Valente, from The Bread We Eat in Dreams

“Shame fuses to silence letting the night maraud, killing bit by useless hope of not being this girl I was. Am. She is.”

Eimear McBride, from The Lesser Bohemians

“When I was a girl / and you were a girl / we were floral / and ungiveable. Squash / blossom. Bleeding / Hearts in the sideyard. / Vine, albino root. / Petals open only in the moonlight.”

Emily O'Neill, “Wedding Soup,” from Pelican

“Glory be to the girl who goes back for her body.”

Dominique Christina, from Star Gazer

“Cover the memory of your face with the mask of who you’ll be—come, and frighten the girl you used to be.”

Alejandra Pizarnik, from Extracting the Stone of Madness: Poems 1962-1972 (tr. Yvette Siegert), “Paths of the Mirror”

“—if I could remember a day when I was utterly a girl and not yet a woman— / but I don’t think there was a day like that for me. / When I look at the girl I was, dripping in her bathing suit, or riding her bike, pumping hard down the newly paved street, / she wears a furtive look— and even if I could go back in time to her as me, the age I am now / she would never come into my arms without believing that I wanted something.”

Marie Howe, from What the Living Do: Poems; “The Girl”

“‘How strange it is to long for one’s self!’ she said; ‘and yet I often, so often, long for myself as a young girl. I love her as one whom I had been very close to and shared life and happiness and everything with, and then had lost while I stood helpless.’”

Jens Peter Jacobsen, from Niels Lyhne

Mary Oliver, from Blue Horses; “Blueberries”

“Your bare feet became a woman's feet, always saying two things at once.”

Louise Glück, from Descending Figure

“And I must choose. War before me, and behind, a woman I do not know, the woman I could have been, a human woman, whole and hot.”

Catherynne M. Valente, from Deathless

Louise Glück, from “The Myth of Innocence”

“Beware your face, / your limbs, your walk: / Gods see these / as invitations. / Beware of swans. / They may lift you / but you will fall. / Beware of children / hatched from eggs, / unfledged and beautiful: / they will burn / cities to the ground. / Don’t be seduced by the gods, / my daughter. / Though you break / into song beneath them / you will remain broken.”

Jeannine Hall Gailey, from Becoming the Villainess; “Leda’s Mother Warns Her”

“What could I have grown up to be? What kind of human woman, what kind of simple, happy thing? If I had never been broken on a bird’s wing. If I had never seen the world naked. I want to be myself again… I want to stop knowing everything I know.”

Catherynne M. Valente, from Deathless

“But I don’t really like what I know; I don’t really care for wisdom and experience. I would rather believe, and beat out my brains, and believe some more. I do not like this safe well-armed woman I have become. The loud bleating disheveled starry reckless failed girl was a better person.”

Martha Gellhorn, from Selected Letters

“a child with seafoam eyes / and dusky skin might cry, there / goes a girl with seven thousand years / at the hollow of her throat,”

Amal El-Mohtar, from ‘Song for an Ancient City’

“I say “her,” because I don’t recall having been present, not in any meaningful sense of the word. I and the girl in the picture have ceased to be the same person. I am her outcome, the result of the life she once lived headlong; whereas she, if she can be said to exist at all, is composed only of what I remember.”

Margaret Atwood, from The Blind Assassin

“There were always in me two women at least, one woman desperate and bewildered, who felt she was drowning, and another who would leap into a scene, as upon a stage, conceal her true emotions because they were weaknesses, helplessness, despair, and present to the world only a smile, an eagerness, curiosity, enthusiasm, interest.”

Anaïs Nin, from The Diary of Anaïs Nin: Volume One, 1931-1934

“Come, let me suffer! That is worth more than viewing injustice with a serene countenance, as Shakespeare says. When I have drained my cup of bitterness, I shall feel better. I am a woman, I have affections, sympathies, and wrath.”

George Sand, in a letter to Gustave Flaubert

“Slapped the man’s face, then slapped it again, / broke the plate, broke the glass, pushed the cat / from the couch with my feet. Let the baby / cry too long, then shook him, / let the man walk, let the girl down, / wouldn’t talk, then talked too long, / lied when there was no need / and stole what others had, and never / told the secret that kept me apart from them. / Years holding on to a rope / that wasn’t there, always sorry / and righteous and wrong. Who would / follow that young woman down the narrow hallway? / Who would call her name until she turns?”

Marie Howe, “What I Did Wrong”

“She is a woman stranded at doorways and passivity is killing her. There is only one thing she can do. Make noise.”

Anne Carson, in her Introduction to Elektra

Audre Lorde, from The Black Unicorn: Poems

“Part of me died here / so another could go on.”

Marty McConnell, from “When They Say You Can’t Go Home Again, What They Mean Is You Were Never There”

“see, you will rise. / and are you less of a woman for this? / no / what is woman? / woman is this—enduring. / listen girl, you will survive this—you will. / but what fool said you had to do it silently? / here is a tip—scream”

Salma Deera, Letters From Medea, “medea gives advice to a young girl with a broken heart”

[dameronology]

one hell of a mandalorian {din djarin}

summary: actions speak louder than words - which is good for din djarin, because he's not very good at words. (this was a commission for an anon! i hope you enjoy).

warnings: language

enjoy!! if you're interested in commissions, you can find out more here :)

- jazz xx

Din Djarin was a man of few words.

That had become clear not long after you'd met.

It wasn't that he didn't like talking, or that he was rude - he'd just never had the need for it. The Mandalorian could spend days and days in hyperspace, on his own with nothing but a frozen bounty to keep him company. And they were hardly chatty, even before they were thrown away into the trawling depths of carbonite animation. There were a few select geniuses who tried to make conversation with him in a last-ditch attempt to appeal to his humanity and beg for mercy, but so far, they'd had a zero-for-zero success rate. It wasn't that he didn't have any humanity to appeal to it - because he did, and his weird, green surrogate kid was an absolute testament to that - but it just took a little bit for it to come out.

The beskar made him seem a little...robotic. Like a droid, which was ironic, because he wouldn't have gone near the things with a ten-foot-barge pole. Din had just become so used to people seeing his mask and his intimidating posture before him that having human traits, like feelings and thoughts and opinions, had never been any use. Having defining traits and a personality was all well and good, but nothing helped you through the galaxy quite like the ability to put the fear of God in people.

The Mandalorian was something, but Din Djarin was somebody. He was good; not necessarily pure and golden-hearted like a typical comic book hero, but he had a strong moral compass. Sometimes, it pointed in opposite directions, but he helped those who needed it and he paid his dues. That was probably a lot more than anyone in the galaxy could have said for themselves. In the fight of good and bad, in a world that existed entirely and black and white, there was nothing more grey than an honest man. Somebody who refused to pick a side held the power of both. For that, Din could have either been extremely smart, or extremely dumb.

Sometimes, he was extremely dumb. Made the wrong moves in combat, or got too cocky, however out of character it was for him. It was the losing fights that truly brought out the human side of Din, and it took a very, very specific eye to see it, sometimes to the point where even he missed it. It never went over your head, though.

You'd joined the crew on the Razor Crest as a mechanic - then you became a baby sitter, and his partner-in-crime, and the closest thing he'd ever had to a friend. His non-verbal nature meant that most of his emotional cues came in the physical form. It went over the heads of everybody else, but between your intuition, and the time spent in such a cramped space, it quickly became like a second language to you. Helmet tilts when he was confused, and little nods when he was pleased; tensed shoulders when the Mandalorian was nervous and balled fists when he was about to absolutely lose his shit.

Today was one of those days. Even though you were both in one piece and the baby was - by some absolute fucking miracle - asleep, it almost hadn't been that way. Nevarro had been quieter than usual, and Din had let his guard down; finally convinced himself to relax a tiny bit and ever-so-slightly loosen the stick that was firmly up his backside. His sudden lack of awareness for your surroundings had meant that someone managed to track the Crest, however briefly. The kid had barely noticed, and you weren't phased by what had been a simple, human mistake. Din, true to nature, was already beating himself up for it.

That was evidenced by his heavy footsteps, and the way he'd immediately retreated to the cockpit and slammed the door. Common sense would have entailed that he wanted to be left alone, but you'd long surpassed the point of any of that. Common sense didn't exist in a galaxy like this one. Doing the obvious thing was, nine times out of ten, usually the wrong way. Expecting the unexpected was the right way to go.

You'd paced outside the door for the better part of fifteen minutes - to go in, or to not go in, that was the question. You were torn between wanting to give Din space and wanting to be there for him; a cranky Din was often an unbearable one, but you cared deeply for him. Maybe a little too much, but that was a can of worms to open later.

"Din?" You gently called. Nothing. "I know you're brooding, or whatever it is you do under that helmet, but talking is good."

"I'm fine."

You sighed. "The scale goes great, good, bad, awful, world-ending and then fine."

"I've never heard that before in my life."

"Yeah, I just made it up on the spot." You murmured.

Resting your hand against the doorknob, you pondered for a moment. Did you want to risk it by going in? Making him mad when he was literally shutting you out? It was hard to know what to do with Din - it wasn't like he came with an answer key, or even a vague manual that could point you in the right direction. It was all just guess work.

"Is the helmet on?" You softly asked.

"Yeah."

You took that as a sign - with a deep breath, you gently opened the door and stepped inside the cockpit, shutting it quietly behind you. The tense atmosphere inside was almost enough to swallow you whole. The man practically radiated angst.

"Talk to me." You took a seat beside him.

"There's nothing to say."

"Bullshit." You murmured. "You might have a thousand inches of beskar hiding your face but your body language is a dead giveaway."

"I'm meant to protect you and the kid." He replied. It wasn't much, but it was better than silence. "It's my job to catch bad people and outrun them when I need."

"You did outrun them." You reminded him. "I'm safe. You're safe. The kid is safe. Does anything else matter?"

"It shouldn't have happened in the first place." Din said. "I was relaxed-"

"- you allowed to relax." You cut him off. "Despite your best efforts, you're a human being."

Reaching out, you gently placed your hand over Din's ungloved palm. He didn't resist or try to brush you away. His hands were soft and callous in equal measures, which felt like a fitting metaphor for him on the whole. You tangled your fingers in his and held on tightly, perhaps in a sad attempt to remind him that you were there.

But Din knew you were there - he could feel it constantly, and he thought about it just as much. Every day of his life prior to you had been filled with rigidity and angst, then you'd come waltzing in and for the first time in years, he'd untensed his muscles and stopped looking over his shoulder. Learnt to take a breath and enjoy the simple things in life, like Grogu laughing or you accidentally tripping over a tree branch. You'd become so important to him that the prospect of losing you was too much for him to even fathom. He'd come close today - too close - and it had been an eye-opener. The irony was that telling you why he was so fucking scared was more frightening than the entire thing itself.

"Don't be so hard on yourself." The gentle pull of your voice lulled him back to reality. "Please?"

His grip on your hand tightened. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." You breathily smiled. "You don't have to apologise."

"I never thought I'd have someone like you." Din admitted. "Coming so close to losing you was terrifying, even if it wasn't that close at all."

He'd never been so open about his feeling towards you before. Obviously, you knew that he viewed you in a way he didn't see anybody else, but that knowledge had been based entirely on physical cues and mere guesswork. You'd never expected him to vocalise the way he felt, or even acknowledge them. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, or even something you considered to be detrimental. The words came as a nice surprise.

"You mean a lot to me, Din." You said. He'd always loved the way his name sounded when you said it; nobody had used it for years, not since he'd lost his parents. It was something to vulnerable and personal. You were the only one he trusted with it.

"I do?"

You didn't mean to laugh at that - you really didn't, but it just came out. A low snort of disbelief; shock at his absolute inability to read the fucking room. Din was as intuitive as they came, with the ability to read criminals like a bedtime story he'd been rehearsing since he was a kid. Then it came to you, and he knew nothing. Absolutely nothing. To call him clueless would be the understatement of the century.

"Maker." You murmured. "Of course you do - more than anyone or anything."

"You're special to me." Din replied. "It scares me sometimes."

Din was straight forward with everything he said - it was just finding the courage to say it. He'd gone into battle with Imps and Republic Rangers alike; fought krayt dragons and droids and fellow Mandalorians and yet this entire thing shook him to his very core more than anything else.

You didn't know it, but you were perfectly holding his gaze. Staring right through it and looking right into his soul. He forgot he had one sometimes. It was probably a little dusty and covered in cobwebs, but it was there, and you were bringing it right out of him and back to reality.

Din used his grip on your hands to pull you a little closer - a moment later, he gently pressed the cold metal of his helmet to his forehead. It was the closest you'd ever been to him, even if it wasn't that close at all. You could hear his soft breathing through the modulator, the sensation acting as a stunning reminder that there was a person underneath there. There were times when you forgot, or felt a little disconnected from the idea entirely. You'd never felt the need to see his face, though - you hadn't a clue what he might look like, but at the same time, you had an image of him in your head. It was as clear as day; as bright as the suns on Tatooine and as persevering as the kid's insistence that he receive all your attention, all the time.

You knew what the action was; a Keldabe kiss. The Mandalorian had recounted its meaning to you not long after you'd met - he'd finally let his barriers down and let you plague him with questions about his culture and the creed, and you'd stumbled on the subject. Initially, you'd been entertained by the fact that it two such vastly different meanings. On one hand, it could be a headbutt. A beskar punch to knock the daylights out of anyone who particularly annoyed you. On the other hand, it was almost a romantic gesture; a way that Mandalorians could show their affection to one another without having to remove their armour.

Din had the latter meaning in mind, but also so much more. He was giving you a piece of his culture - including you in the very thing that defined him as a person.

"It won't happen again." The Mandalorian gently said. "I'll never let you get hurt again. I promise."

"I know." You softly smiled. Your eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of the cool metal against your forehead. "For what it's worth, I have your back too."

He softly chuckled. "Thank you."

You gently pulled back, eyes meeting again (not that you could tell).

"Seriously!" You said. "I can be a bad-ass."

"You can be a lot of things." Din replied. "You're one hell of a girl."

"And you're one hell of a Mandalorian."

[fae-fucker]

Review: An Enchantment of Ravens by Margaret Rogerson

Every enchantment has a price. With a flick of her paintbrush, Isobel creates stunning portraits for a dangerous set of clients: the fair folk. These immortal creatures cannot bake bread or put a pen to paper without crumbling to dust. They crave human Craft with a terrible thirst, and they trade valuable enchantments for Isobel’s paintings. But when she receives her first royal patron—Rook, the autumn prince—Isobel makes a deadly mistake. She paints mortal sorrow in his eyes, a weakness that could cost him his throne, and even his life. Furious, Rook spirits Isobel away to his kingdom to stand trial for her crime. But something is seriously amiss in his world, and they are attacked from every side. With Isobel and Rook depending upon each other for survival, their alliance blossoms into trust, perhaps even love . . . a forbidden emotion that would violate the fair folks’ ruthless laws, rendering both their lives forfeit. What force could Isobel's paintings conjure that is powerful enough to defy the ancient malice of the fairy courts? Isobel and Rook journey along a knife-edge in a lush world where beauty masks corruption and the cost of survival might be more frightening than death itself. 

*deep sigh*

So, this has been recommended to me from what feels like the dawn of time itself. When people find out I hate SJM’s “writing”, this is one of the books that pops up as a “good” alternative for fae romance, along with The Cruel Prince by Holly Black.

I filed this one away to read and was more eager to get to it than TCP, mainly because I don’t like Holly Black’s writing and thought I’d give this one a chance first.

And now, I’ve read it. And yeah, it is better than anything SJM has ever shat out of her hellscape of a brain. But that’s like saying a dry, homemade ham sandwich is better than the remains of a cum-stained hotdog you found in a ditch next to a pile of dog shit and a used condom.

But all of you who recommended this to me? You owe me money.

This entire review will have spoilers because I can’t talk about this book without spoiling it, since my main problem with it lies in the false advertisement and wasted potential of the whole thing.

First of all, this book is a lie. Or rather, the blurb is a lie. The wonderfully weird and unique setup of a girl painting human sorrow on a fairy’s face and being punished for it? Toss that shit out of your mind. It won’t fucking matter in this book.

Yes, the whole MAIN CONFLICT doesn’t fucking matter. It’s only there as a setup to get Isobel and Rook moving. It never comes back. This is supposed to be a standalone book, mind you. The whole main draw, the thing that’s advertised on the back of the book? Never. Resolved.

Isobel never even reaches the Autumn Court. There is no trial. She never meets Rook’s subjects, who judged the portrait she painted of him and thus somehow threatened his rule. She never sees the true consequences of her actions. We never even find out WHY it’s such a big deal that he’s got human sorrow painted on him or how it was a threat to his rule.

What we get is two thirds of Rook and Isobel bumbling around in a forest, making eyes at each other, and then the last third introduces an entirely different conflict, with different antagonists, and resolves itself in the dumbest way possible, with a really shitty little HEA as an undeserved, flaccid epilogue. 

This book is FUCK-ALL.

Okay, no, that’s not true. This book is wonderfully written on a technical level. I loved the descriptions and the prose itself, it was whimsical and wondrous in a way that felt appropriate for the setting and genre. And the world itself, with its interesting concepts like human Craft, and the mystery around the fairies and their odd rules, and how Whimsy, Isobel’s home town, seems to be affected by the summer court and is locked in perpetual summer? It’s interesting. It’s unique.

And it’s completely fucking wasted, baybeeeee.

Instead of exploring ANY of the things the author sets up, we’re instead stuck with Isobel and Rook, our intrepid wet cardboard box and her formless mannequin of a love interest, who walk around in some forests and have tepid banter and then make out some and then fall in love, I guess.

God, I wanted them both dead at the end. I was cheering for the villain to win just so I could see something interesting happen to these two fuckers. Isobel is seventeen, but acts like Sophie Hatter’s less interesting clone, all sensible and passionless and boring. I can’t really describe Isobel in any other way than “sensible”. That’s all she is. She’s sensible. We’re supposed to believe that she undergoes a change and becomes more daring and passionate, but that’s just told to us while she remains her bland, sensible little self. I wish I could say more but there’s literally nothing else to her. She’s the most sensible 17-year-old that somehow still creams herself over a centuries-old man whom she met a few days ago.

Rook isn’t much better. I don’t know how you screw up writing a fairy prince, that’s like, half the work already done for you in this genre, congrats, but somehow the author manages to do just that. There are many instances where Isobel will complain about how arrogant or insufferable Rook is, because hey, that’s the character archetype, right? A hot, sad manchild whose suffering is pathetic in a fixable way. Except that he’s ... just a dude. Literally just a normal fucking dude. I guess it’s somewhat refreshing that instead of a huge asshole that we’re supposed to find attractive and who’s supposed to be a saint (aka anything SJM ever “wrote”), we’re instead presented with this dude who’s supposed to be a little arrogant and obnoxious but who just is ... a guy. A perfectly normal man. He wasn’t even that vain despite being super hot. Isobel has a moment where she mentions Rook’s childish tantrums all fondly and I’m like ... “Where? Where are they?” I literally could not tell you about a single tantrum this man had. These two are literally generic brand Sophie and Howl, with all their bite and imperfections stripped away but also their fun and quirks. It’s like someone read a single meta meme post on Tumblr about Sophie and Howl and went “ah yes, this is how my leads will be” and then failed every step of the way.

And so we’re supposed to believe that these two fell in such an intense, passionate romance during the few days of trudging through the woods together, that they’re breaking some ancient fairy law just by loving each other? These two? A human girl of seventeen and a fairy prince who’s centuries old who’s been so heartbroken over a previous romance with a human girl that he still keeps a token of her affection, hundreds of years later? He got over her quick, huh. Isobel must’ve really charmed him with her ... lack of a personality.

Yeah, that’s the real plot, by the by. Rook and Isobel fall in love, allegedly, and then all the other fairies want to kill them for it. There are like, two actually interesting characters, who are, of course, wasted entirely. Can I get an F in chat for my gal Aster and my mans Gadfly? RIP in pepperoni. You were the real ones.

The whole thing about Rook inexplicably having human sorrow in his eyes is never expanded upon. Isobel spends the last third of the book painting human emotions on other fairies, and then it’s explicitly her doing it when it’s not there, which seems to affect the older fairies and make them sort of semi-experience those emotions when they see the portraits? But Rook’s human sorrow is clearly there on its own, Isobel even struggles to figure it out at first, and it’s supposed to come from ... his loss of his human not-lover centuries ago? Is that it? We never find out. But then Isobel thinks some shit about how the “Good Law” that prevents humans and fair folk from being together is all about the fairies being jealous of humans and their emotions because they can’t experience them. So how did Rook experience human sorrow for so long? How did he experience love so fast with Isobel, if fairies are so immune to Emotions? It’s never implied that Rook is somehow faking his feelings for Isobel or that they’re a facsimile of her real ones, so fairies are very clearly capable of love and sorrow, but this is never ... explained? Or explored at all? Is he just special? Or is Isobel special for making him feeel this way uwu?

We also see that the fair folk clearly do experience “human” emotion, but I guess they don’t count as such because they’re, what, mean? Selfish? Cruel? Does it only count as human emotion if it’s something Pinterest-appropriate and poetic like love or joy or sadness? Come on, now.

I don’t want everything to fall neatly into perfect, explainable boxes, but this is 1) a standalone book, you can’t afford to have so many unanswered, IMPORTANT questions and 2) THIS IS LITERALLY THE MAIN FUCKING CONFLICT THAT WE’RE SUPPOSED TO RESOLVE.

What the fuck happened here?

Oh and, at the very end, when Isobel comes up with the idea to defeat the big bad that’s properly introduced only a few chapters before his demise, I thought she’d actually use this whole “painting emotions on a fairy’s face and cause them some sort of psychological pain” as a way to defeat him? I thought it’d be a pretty smart solution and a decent way to at least try to tie it all together, even with so many loose ends?

But no. She just uses it as a distraction to stab the guy. He literally just gets sort of cranky that she painted him with a human emotion on his face, and his anger makes him oblivious to the dagger she’s holding behind the canvas that she just stabs him in the heart with. She stabs him with an iron dagger that never before had any significance and was introduced in the chapter before that, instead of using the portraits that’s the main fucking PLOT THREAD of the book that’s LITERALLY IN FRONT OF HER. We even get some buildup about how this is her masterpiece, how she’d never paint anything this good ever again, how much she must struggle with her least favorite method, all this tension at the climax. And then she just makes the guy sorta cranky enough for her to get close and stab him, through the painting because I guess symbolism, with a dagger nobody gave a shit about.

Yeah, she stabs him through the painting. She Assassin’s Creeds him. It would’ve been epic if not for the fact how it’s supposed to be all dramatic how she’s destroying her best work, since it would’ve been so much better if the painting itself is what had killed him or even just paralyzed him so she could calmly stab him as a mercy kill at the end. “What force could Isobel's paintings conjure that is powerful enough to defy the ancient malice of the fairy courts?” asks the blurb. Well, we never find out. In the end, her paintings don’t even matter. Hell, she even cuts the best one she ever made, and her big defining act of defiance toward the fairy courts have fuck-all to do with her paintings.

The whole book is basically this. So much brilliance and so many cool concepts and setups that are RIGHT THERE, in the previous chapter, in the next line, in the prose and the atmosphere, that then go completely ignored by the narrative in favor of really tepid romance between two extremely boring and underdeveloped leads and their sloppy spaghetti of a plot held together by farts and wishes.

It could’ve been amazing. It could’ve been something very special and genuinely magical and whimsical. But all of it is wasted, flushed down the toilet. It’s like the author gave up at the end.

I don’t know if it’s because it’s YA and I just don’t enjoy it as much anymore, but I’ve read better YA and it shouldn’t be an excuse.

Screw this book. Even though it’s more technically competent than the Elven Alliance stuff I’ve been reading lately, the false advertising and wasted potential made me angry and made the reading experience fully negative instead of just generic and mediocre.

If y’all want a sensible heroine and a manchild hero in a whimsical fairytale world, just read Howl’s Moving Castle. You’ll have a much better time.

[srose-foxfire]

Damirae Week 2021 - Day 7 (part 1)

“Finding Our Happily Ever After: Part 1” Day 7: Soulmates

All Raven could recall was standing before Damian about to confess she wanted to stay with him and his family, if he allowed her. The moments that followed after were in a blur, she had felt a pull from the skies and before long she was rising in the dark grey skies at a rapid speed. Raven looked down to see she was being pulled away from her friends and Damian. Scared, the young maiden called out for him, she heard him call back and bark an order towards her captor. Raven could also faintly remember seeing Sombra, trying to attack her captor but was wounded. The next thing she remembers was trying to punch and free herself from her captor, but she was then struck on her head rather hard making her lose conscious throughout the flight.

Overtime Raven would briefly wake up catching glimpses of the surrounding lands, as they approach a mountain.

When her senses came back and she fully awoke, Raven found herself to be inside a dark cave. It was too dark for any mere mortal to be able to look through but the part of her that held demon blood allowed her to see in the darkness. Raven slowly turned her head, skimming the area, as she tried to stand, she notices a tug come from her wrists and ankles. Looking down on herself, Raven had been tied onto a wooden chair, her wrists and ankles were tied rather very tightly, she notice red bruised marks stain her wrists . Raven tried to wiggle from her chair, when from the darkest part of the room, she heard the grunts of an older man.

The cave was lit with floating wax candles holding a green flame on them, making the room glow in green. Raven managed to see two figures standing close together from the direction she had heard the man come from. One was tall and well built, a man with his face hidden behind a black and orange mask. Next to him was an old woman, though she had a devil look in her eyes as if she shouldn’t be easily trifled with. This woman was dress in grey rags, almost appearing to be her dress, her long grey-hair was in locks pointing in different directions. She wasn’t pleasant to the eyes and might as well frighten any child.

Raven exhaled carefully, “Who are you and what do you want with me?”

The man laughed lightly, he took a step toward Raven, “my… you really cut to the chase, my dear.” He then bowed towards her, “I am Slade Wilson, and I have a proposition for you.”

Before Raven had a chance to inquire, the old woman next to him, place her weary old boney hand on Slade’s arm, “my lord, I must advice not to deal with the likes of her. Contracts with them come at a price, perhaps-”

“Quite hag,” Slade hissed through clenched teeth, then glanced at Raven who had her brows lifted, he gave her a gentle laugh, “apologies my dear. Like I was saying I have a proposition, if you choose to accept it, and I will free you from those binds.”

Not allowing herself to falter, Raven held her head high and spoke with a stern voice. “Listen, I don’t have anything to my name, if you know who I am, I’ve been exiled from my father’s lands. I hold no value-”

“Oh, but you do my dear, you absolutely do and that is why you should be wise to choose this offer of mine.” Slade clapped his hands together, looking over to the older woman, who mumbled some incoherent words and a large wooden chair appeared right in front of Raven, Slade then sat down, she could feel he was studying her through his mask.  

“Which is?” she then asked him.

The masked man, sighed heavily, “you have been staying with a certain and very peculiar family,” She could feel her heart picked up speed as she listened, her chest rised with disdain, and her face was starting to flush with anger as Slade continued, “the youngest child of said family… well he was given a birthright he did not deserve, well to make it short I want to employ you to help me bring him to ruin-”

Enrage, Raven glared and spoke the truth in her heart, “You are wasting your time with me; I will never turn against Damian or his family! They have given me more than my own father ever could… besides Gotham has been with the Wayne’s for generations, its Damian throne to take-”

“Shut her up.” Slade commanded with a hiss, the old woman who stood behind him muttered some words in another language Raven didn’t understand and her lips were sealed, Slade then rose from his chair and walked around her.

“Apologies but I hate interruptions. Yes, the little brat is the heir to rule over Gotham, but he was also given another birthright one he very carelessly gave away to his cousin. The kingdom of Nanda Parbat, a land inhabited by the world’s most elites of assassins, it’s former ruler was Ra’s al Ghul, had chosen his grandson, the one you know as Damian Wayne to take over his kingdom!” Frustrated, Slade then kicked the large wooden chair, across the room with a powerful kick.

The noise frightened the harpy as it screeched and flapped it wings from a corner, hoping around the room. The old woman hissed at it to quiet down, with a flick of her fingers tips the chair was rebuild and place across from Raven. Slade grabbed it and sat down, he clasped his hands on his lap and studied her, noticing Raven had her brows knitted together.

“You must wonder why I hate him so much, correct? Well I was the ‘Demon Head’s’ right man, he almost treated like a son… he once told me I was going to marry his daughter Talia, but what does he do instead? Create a ridiculous alliance with the kingdom of Gotham, King Bruce takes Talia in marriage and she gives birth to the little brat. That boy has stolen what was rightfully mine and gave it away like nothing.”

Slade then stood up, remove his mask to reveal a dark skinned man, with short white hair and a left eye covered by a piece of black leather, placed his hands on either side of Raven’s chair leaning ever so closely to her face, “I needed to have my revenge. That boy took everything away from me, so I took away everything he came to love. I had a cursed place on him, his family, and soon everyone came to forget that the kingdom of Gotham ever existed. Its people became like wind, it was like they never existed. I found pleasure knowing he would never get to experience true happiness… that is until…you came along.”

Raven’s chest was heaving as she strained to breath steadily, she could feel her blood start to boil and her head throb with rage. “You somehow manage to worm yourself into the castle and lighten the darkness I so perfectly designed for them. I had to come up with something else, something that would really bring that boy to his knees, and that is making you my bride.”

Slade started to caress her cheek with his hand, she turned and tried to lean away from his vile touch. Her mouth was beginning to fill with saliva and just for a split-second Raven felt strange. She had a feeling like she could overpower whatever had been placed onto her lips, she locked gaze with Slade’s, glared at him from underneath her lashes and then spit at him.

The older man groined and wipes his face with the back of his palm, the old woman gave out a horrible angry cry as she screamed, “you filthy wench! How dare you break my enchantment?!” Raven’s chair was lifted and flung towards the ceiling of the cave, Raven cried at the impact as she was dragged to the floor and up again. Then she was floating just above the old woman, with a flick of her old wrist, Raven was thrown across the cave, causing the chair she was tied on, to break at the impact.

“Stop it!” Slade yelled as he lifted his servant by the throat, then releasing her harshly. He turned and pointed his finger towards Raven. “You! Do you think you could ever live happily alongside a beast like him? Don’t you want to live a normal-human life with someone like me? I can give you that and so much more.”

“No… you can’t.” Raven strained to speak as her whole body was aching, she lifted herself off the ground with great difficultly, “Damian may be trapped in a beast’s body but even he has shown more compassion and kindness from any demon I have ever met! He is no beast, you are!”

“Enough! I employed this witch long time ago to curse him, now for being a thorn on my side you will perish!”

The old woman cackled and her fingertips sparked with green magic, “oh, what great pleasure you give me my lord to slay a sorceress of Azarath.” Azarath?

“Don’t you dare, hurt her!”

That voice! Raven turned around to what was hopefully the cave’s only exit and to see him magnificently riding on Titus, like a white knight riding on his noble steed. Damian hopped off from Titus, as they both snarled and growled at Raven’s captors.

“Damian!” Raven cried happily.

Slade laughed, “Well now, isn’t this a sight! The beast man with his beast dog!” He then unsheathes a sword he had on his hip and pointed it towards Damian, “You want the girl, you will have to go through me!”

“You will pay for what you did to her and to my family!” Damian yelled. He leaped towards Slade, swinging his claws to land a hit.

The harpy who had been standing nearby flew up and dive to attack Damian but was interrupted as Titus manage to bite one of its winged arms. The harpy cried out and kicked Titus on his muzzle, then tried biting him in return. When she missed used her clawed feet to puncture his shoulder. Titus effortlessly evade each attack, then lodged its fangs onto one of the harpy’s foot and swung it in his mouth like a doll. He then let go, causing the harpy to be thrown across the cave, it shrieks and cried painfully flying away, abandoning it mistress.

Titus barked proudly and ran towards Raven as they watched Damian continue to battle Slade. “You cause me my pet!” Raven turned around and notice the witch was flying towards her, Raven through herself away from the attack and Titus tried to swing his paw at her. The witch shot a bolt of her green magic and Titus whimper as he was struck. Angry, Raven stood and ran towards the witch as she managed to tackle her to the ground. They rolled on top of each other, Raven had the upper hand given to her youth and her own will to survive this terrible ordeal. But the witch had magic and she started chanting some words making Raven float away from her and then launching her like she had done before with the chair. Raven rolled a few feet away, she glanced up as the witch floated slowly towards her.

“Your mother turned me into this! She took away my beauty because I used it to lure men to their dooms, now it is time for me to have my revenge!” She raised her hands up, green sparks going off as she chanted a spell. Raven lifted her hands to shield herself, when she heard a whoosh sliced through the air. Slowly Raven, opened her eyes and widen them when she saw that the witch had been impacted by Slade’s sword. It had entered through her back and the tip managed to pierce through the front of her chest. She slowly floated down to the ground, standing still. The witch then slowly turned around still with the sword embedded through her as she glanced towards Slade. “My lord? Why…?”

“Our deal is off; you are no longer any use for me.”

Damian quietly moved around Slade as he approached Raven, he used his body to shield her from their enemies. He slowly pushed her towards the path he and Titus had come from. The witch continues to walk towards Slade, then pointed her long pointy finger. “You traitor,you dare double-cross a witch, all of you will never see the light of day, I cursed thee all to be buried in this cave!” Her whole body illuminated and burst into green and black ashes, the cauldron started to boil and erupted around the entire room. Which cause the cave to rumble and some stalactites fell all around them.

“Let’s go!” Damian yelled as he grabbed Raven’s hand and together ran along the path to exit the cave. Titus ran up ahead, managing to evade pillars of rocks tumbling down, at some point Damian lifted Raven in his arms and carried her off most of the path. As they near the exit, some rocks came lose, falling right at the foot of the entrance to the cave. Damian stopped, placed Raven down and then jumped on top the nearest boulder, he turned and reached for her hands to help her climb. Titus effortlessly jumped and stood near an opening big enough for them to pass through. When Raven reached the top, she reached out her hand to grab Damian’s paw, for a second her looked at her and couldn’t help but smile towards her.

Then out of nowhere Damian screamed out a roar of pain, one hand clawing the air around him. Raven glanced to Damian’s side and saw Slade had reached them and had use a dagger to pierce Damian. The young curse prince had lost his footing and grip, causing Raven to hold onto him as tightly as she could and not let him fall. Slade used this opportunity to stab Damian again, but he too lost his footing and pulled Damian down with him.

“Damian!” Raven cried as she watches him tumbled down and roll a few feet away from where they had started to climb. She and Titus hopped down the to the floor and running to Damian’s side. She knelt down and gently picked up his head in her hands, trying to shield him from the small debris. Titus stood next to them, using his own large body as a shield for his master and the young girl. The only entrance they had was covered by more rocks, trapping them inside the cave.

“You lost, you lost it all!” Slade exclaimed happily as he tried to stand up straight, with shaky legs started walking towards them. “I was never going to let you live a happy life! You deserved this; oh, you so deserve this!” Slade chanted madly, all reason was gone, now before them was an old man filled with utter madness. Above them a large cracking sound was heard, gazing right above him a large stalactite broke from the roof and landed right where Slade had stood.

The cave continued to crumble around them. Damian was heavily panting, trying to minimize how much in pain he was in. “Save yourselves,” he whispered through painful breaths.

“I am not leaving you.” Raven answered him as she cradle his face. There has to be a way. Raven thought. She turned and turned her head all around her hoping to see something that could save them. But there was nothing, all was truly lost as Slade had said, was this truly what they were fated for from the start? Was the grand design of the universe this cold-hearted towards them in wanting to have a happy life? Wanting to hold on to what had brought her happiness for a short moment of her life, Raven felt that feeling again when she had broken the witch’s enchantment on her lips. It felt peaceful and warmth almost, just like when she had been visited by that strange woman cloaked in white. Without even knowing it herself Raven whispered;

“Azarath… Metrion… Zinthos.”

A dark purple circle suddenly appeared on the ground around them. As more cracks were heard from the cave’s ceiling, she saw some stalactites break, coming down rapidly targeting them. The circle then emitted dark looking shadows that looked like black tentacles wrapping around Raven and her friends. She closed her eyes waiting for their death but then opened them and looked at Damian. If she were to die, she wanted to see him one last time. Then they were  all engulfed by  shadows.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Jolly Sailor Bold

Pairing: Pirate!Peter Parker X Mermaid!Reader

Summary: Pirates once ruled the seas, and they’re wanting that power back. All that stands in the way are Mermaids and Sirens. For all of history the two have been slaughtering each other with no remorse. So what is it about you that’s so intriguing to Peter? And why do you, in turn, find yourself wanting to protect the sailor?

Warnings: Language, Old Language, Slow burn, Angst, Pirates, Violence, 

Word Count: 6.5K

A/n: So plot twist I’ve already worked 40 hours this week so I’m a little behind with my writing but you guys can have this while I finish up some other things. Happy Ficmas!!! 

Peter Parker IS AGED UP IN THIS 

~*~

Inspired by ‘Prates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides’ and FreeForm’s ‘Siren’

“Upon one summer's morning I carefully did stray Down by the Walls of Wapping Where I met a sailor gay”

‘Beneath the surface of the water, past the line of the reef, lies a danger beyond any man’s comprehension. A danger concealed by soft skin, enticing eyes, and a melody that lulls sailors and pulls them from their ships to the depths of the ocean. The creatures, beautiful in appearance, roam the depths of the seas, living in deeper oceanic waters during the times of tired men, when the victim count is lower.

Female as they appear, deadly as they are, enchanting as they sound, they are often confused with their close relatives. But Mermaids be far worse than the Siren’s they’re confused with.

Upon a glance they seem similar, side by side the naked eye may not be able to tell them apart. But the one thing that separates these creatures is the undeniable bloodlust that Sirens feel, contorting their once beautiful faces to a hideous mask that never leaves. The hunger whenever they smell human blood. While mermaids are more equipped to handle the hunger, better at concealing it, the sirens show no shame in claiming men, in giving in to their animalistic desires and draining the life of a helpless sailor.

Mermaids appear a more peaceful creature, although deadly. Hardly capable of refusing the smell of fresh blood, they only seem serene on the outside. Below the surface lies teeth sharper than sharks, a voice that can command and compel the strongest minds, and a strong body that is capable of destroying a thousand ships.

Sailors beware, Pirates be warned, for the mermaids are ruthless. Heaven forbid ye ever fall into their path for they will grant no mercy. Pray a Siren finds you and ends you quickly, for her looks will be none too pleasing, but a mermaid will distract and drain, her eyes alight with desire, as she deludes yer weak-willed mind. So swords high, guns aimed, and never look at a dame in the water, for that will be yer undoing!’

“I see you’re trying to scare my new crew member, Buck!” A blond-haired man slaps the brunet’s shoulder, smiling warmly at the young man he was talking to. “Who might you be sailor?”

The boy looks down timidly. “P-Peter. Peter Parker,” he says quietly. “Well Parker, I’m Captain Rogers, this is my first mate Bucky. We’re happy to have you aboard!” Peter nods enthusiastically and gets up from the stairs leading to the forecastle.

“Well kid, go make yourself useful. And remember what I said. If you see a woman in the water, do not look at her. You find someone who’s good with a gun and shove Seaweed into your ears. Don’t let her sing. If she sings you’re done for.” The boy swallows hard and nods again, watching as Bucky walks away and takes the helm.

He leans over the thick wooden side beams and looks out across the water, his eyes scanning for anything unusual. A sudden pat on his back startles him and he whips around, clutching his chest. “Woah, calm down Parker. It’s just me,” Ned says softly, looking around then leaning against the side beams as Peter was.

“So, how’s it feel to be a real sailor? I mean we’re basically pirates now.” Peter snorts and looks out across the water again. “I feel like Pirate is a term used by those who fear people who go and get what they want. We may be Pirates, but it’s not like we’re bad people,” Peter says softly. Ned nods, looking around with a smile on his face. “You know Captain Rogers’ first mate Bucky? He was telling me about the dangers of the sea. Mermaids and Sirens. Do you... do you believe in any of that stuff?” He asks.

Ned looks over at his friend and shrugs. “I mean, we hardly know anything about what’s under the water. There’s probably something.” Peter bites his bottom lip and shakes his head no.

“I’ve heard stories you know,” he begins, “of people who survived attacks, saying they remember beautiful voices and enchanting looks. I think it could be true. I just hope we don’t come across anything like that.”

Ned shrugs then walks away, finding something to keep himself busy as they sail to deeper waters.

~

“Okay lads! We’ve made it out to sea! First night always ends in celebration so celebrate we will! Take what you can!” Captain Rogers calls loudly. “Give nothing back!” Bucky calls just as loud. “All of you now. Take what you can!” Rogers repeats. “Give nothing back!” The crew shouts, throwing their hats into the air and clinking their bottles of booze together as they celebrate. Peter chuckles as Ned downs a whole bottle of rum, not envying the headache he’ll surely have the next day.

He looks out across the dark water, tired after a long day at sea. He sighs and shakes his head as he thinks back to the tale Bucky told him earlier, chuckling lightly at how ridiculous it seems now. He turns away from the water, freezing in his tracks halfway through the turn. He slowly turns back and catches sight of something bobbing in the water a short distance from the ship. His eyes widen and he leans forwards, inspecting the object as it moves closer slowly.

The object stops and Peter nearly screams as it turns and dives into the water, an iridescent tail flashing above the surface for a moment. Peter glances at the bottle of alcohol in his hand and shakes his head, hurrying away from the side of the ship and down to the crew’s quarters to try and sleep off whatever alcohol is making him hallucinate.

~

The water brushes up against the ship, rocking it from side to side gently. You watch curiously as the humans cheer and drink from aboard. A young man breaks off from the group and leans over the railing, looking out across the water. You raise your head up a bit and watch him closely, your eyes widening as you make out his face.

He has curly brown hair, and light skin; his cheeks are flushed from the alcohol and his eyes are... you can’t exactly make out what colour they are. Letting your instincts pull you, you slowly move forwards, watching the man as he starts to turn away.

He suddenly stops and turns back to look directly at you. You move closer still and watch as he nearly subconsciously leans forwards. A high-pitched call gets your attention and you stop then dive under the water, desperate to find your sister, the person calling you, and tell her of your findings.

She calls out for you again and you reply, your voice deeper than hers, resonating throughout the sea and echoing off of rocks and reefs. Cutting through the water effortlessly, you spin towards the cavern the two of you share. You pull yourself up and break the surface of the little air bubble-esque cave. “Where were you?” She asks as soon as you’re inside, her voice a high keening call.

“I was exploring. I found something... someone.” She raises her eyebrows and wrings out her long raven hair. “Who? There are no mermen for miles around here. They recognize this as our area. It isn’t a siren, is it?”

You roll your eyes and shake your head no. “I didn’t meet anyone. I found people, Ariadné. Humans! They’re on a ship. I think they’re pirates.” She frowns and shakes her head. “You do know that pirates killed mom and dad, right? They should all be killed for what they did.” You sigh and lower yourself into the water again, leaning your head onto your arms.

“Not all pirates deserve to suffer for what a few did. Blackbeard and his crew were punished for their doings. We got our revenge. What more could you want?” She sighs and mimics your position. “I want them all gone. It’s enough that we don’t eat them, but they all deserve to suffer as we did. As our pod did.”

“Ariadné, what would mother say, hearing you talk with such hatred? She raised us better than this. She raised us different than the others. We have more compassion in our hearts than they do. We mustn’t lose sight of that. I understand the hurt, but we were raised to protect the humans. When our brand is on a ship, other pods of Mermaids and Sirens know not to hurt them.” Your older sister scoffs and shakes her head. 

“Our parents died because the Pirates were afraid!” You flinch away from her and she sighs. “I did not mean to frighten you. I’m just scared for you. If I lost you as well... I don’t know what I would do.” You smile gently at her and nod, leaning your head onto your arms again. “I don’t believe he saw me. I’m careful, Ariadné, I promise.” She sighs and nods once, wanting the little argument to be over with.

As your sister drifts off to sleep, your mind travels to the sailor who may have seen you earlier in the night. A pulling in your gut shoves an idea into your mind. A terribly dangerous idea that spikes your curiosity.

You glance over at your sister and, after making sure she’s sound asleep, you venture out of the cavern and swim quickly to the warmer waters closer to the surface.

Slowing as you see the large shadow of a ship, you carefully raise your head above the surface, looking around then up to the deck, trying to find the man from before. You look around carefully, smiling as you see him leaning against the railing again. He looks out across the water, his wrists crossed over each other. You tilt your head to the side curiously and swim slightly forwards.

"What're you doing up at this hour?" A voice calls from behind him. He turns and you watch as a man comes up beside him. “I... felt like I needed to come here. The water... does it ever call you?” The other man takes a deep breath then nods.

“Quite often. It’s why I do what I do. I love the water, I can’t be away from it. It’s my home now. And it can be yours too, if you’d like.” The brown-haired boy who you’ve been watching smiles.

“I’d like that, thank you, Captain.” You watch as the taller blond man pats the other man’s shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Peter. Don’t let Bucky’s tails of the sea scare you. You’re safe.” The Captain walks away, leaving Peter alone.

You risk moving closer, wanting the see more of his beautiful face. He sighs and looks at his hand before tossing something into the water not far from your head. You reach out and grab the object, frowning in confusion. It’s a very smooth rock, bright red.

You look up at him and carefully toss the rock back at him, smiling as it lands right past him, clanking on the deck.

He spins quickly and stares at the rock in disbelief before grabbing it and inspecting it. He looks out to the water, his eyes finding you again.

“You again?” He asks in a whisper. You slowly swim forwards and raise your shoulders out of the water. “Am I hallucinating? Are you... real?”

You stifle a giggle as he battles with himself. He glances down at the rock in his hand then back up to you, an idea popping into his head. He tosses the rock at you and you catch it before it hits your head.

“You are Peter,” you state, tossing to rock back to him. He freezes at the sound of your voice, the rock hitting him in the chest then falling onto the railing.

“You-you can talk. Your voice is... wow.” You smile brilliantly up at him and he slowly steps back. “I need... where’s Bucky. Oh, Gods, I need to find Bucky.” He shoves his fingers in his ears and runs away from the side, the rock tumbling into the water. You frown and grab it then swim back to the cavern where your older sister is sleeping.

~

“Dude, slow down! What happened?” Ned asks from the empty crew’s quarters. Peter looks around then grans Ned’s hand. “I saw a flipping... woman. In the water. She talked to me. I threw a rock at her and she caught it and threw it back. She... I... I swear- Ned, don’t look at me like that! I’m not crazy!” Ned holds his hands up in surrender. “I never said you were. I just... I think maybe the saltwater is getting to your brain a little bit.” Peter scoffs and turns away from his friend.

“I know what I saw. What I heard. She’s out there.” Ned nods slowly, “okay, then why didn't she eat you? Why didn’t she sing? You said she spoke to you but didn't sing. That doesn’t sound like mermaid behaviour.” Peter furrows his brows. “Maybe she... maybe she isn’t like the others. Maybe she’s different. Doesn’t hurt men.” Ned scoffs incredulously, shaking his head no.

“I can’t believe I’m friends with a lunatic. You know, people like you are where all those bad rumours about Pirates and Sailors come from.” Peter sighs and gets up, walking away from his friend and back up to the main deck to look in the water again, desperate to find any proof that he actually saw a woman... a mermaid. That he heard one.

‘You are Peter.’ It replays in his mind over and over, the melodic yet somewhat deep voice that has been haunting him ever since it happened.

Peter takes a deep breath and walks towards the helm, finding Bucky right where he thought he’d be.

“You alright Sailor? You look like you’ve seen a sea witch,” Bucky says while patting Peter on that back. Peter looks up at the man with a weak smile. “Mister Bucky, Sir... do you actually believe in Mermaids and Sirens? Or was that just you trying to scare me?” Bucky sighs and looks around for a moment before rolling up his sleeve.

“It’s how I lost my arm. Why I’ve been so apprehensive on these waters. Not far from here... a storm was brewing. We briefly lost control and a few of us fell overboard. I was one of them.” Peter waits patiently for Bucky to continue.

“They were waiting, rocking the ship with their tails. They were mermaids. Their beauty... was unparalleled. The most beautiful creatures I’ve ever seen in my life. One of them grabbed me, dragged me under the water while singing one of her bloody songs. I broke free, hardly, but as soon as I was above the water she grabbed my arm and pulled me back under, her sharp teeth locked onto my shoulder and she ripped my arm clean from my body.”

Peter stares at the metal arm in shock and slight awe. “Steve, the Captain he is, shot nearly all of them. He helped me up and we made berth in Tortuga. I got this arm and when we got back on the sea... Steve and I made a vow to kill any single one of these creatures. We lost a lot of men that day. We refuse to let anyone else get killed because of those horrible beasts.” 

Peter nods slowly then looks out to the water. “And it ain’t like Mermaids and Sirens just stick to specific waters. They live all over. Migrate with the tides or stay where they are. They live all over the world. Nowhere will be safe until they’re all gone.”

“Genocide,” Peter whispers to himself, fearing for the life of the mermaid he only met yesterday.

“Are all of them... bad like that?” Bucky shrugs, pulling his sleeve back down. “I don’t wait long enough to find out. As soon as I see a woman who ain’t drowning in these waters so far from shore, I shoot first.”

The colour drains from Peter’s face and he shakes his head trying to get rid of the strange feeling of dread that’s suddenly filling him.

“Why?” Peter looks up quickly, a forced smile on his face. “No... no reason. I was just wondering after the whole story the other day. I just want to know what to do in case I come across something so... heinous.” Bucky nods and grabs a pistol out of one of the many holsters on his body.

“Here. Keep this with you. You ever see a woman out there, don’t let her open her mouth. Shoot her and shoot her fast.” Peter slowly nods, accepting the gun and looking at it carefully. “Now go on. I’m sure there’s something else you can do. We make Berth in Nassau in a few days to gather supplies.” Peter walks to the helm stairs but pauses at the top of them. “What kind of supplies?” Bucky grins, “we’re off to find something special."

~

You watch the ship from afar, holding the red rock tightly in your right hand as you think of Peter. A hiss from behind you gets your attention and you spin quickly, relaxing as you see who it is. The Siren lets out a high pitched cry, asking what you’re doing. You reply in the same tongue.

“A boy on the ship,” you begin in a keen, “he is interesting.” She shakes her head and grabs onto your arm, her scaly face scrunched up with fear and mistrust. “He saw me yesterday and he did not hurt me.” She shakes her head again and pulls you under the water, swimming quickly away from the surface with you right behind her. “Ryn! Ryn wait! Where are you goin?” You ask. She halts just underneath a deep-sea reef, her hands coming up to her face.

“Does Ariadné know that you’ve been sneaking around near humans? Pirates none the less? She’ll kill you herself if she finds out!” You sigh wistfully and roll your eyes. 

“You do not understand. He... he is different.” She scoffs. “You don’t even know him. He is a pirate. If any of them see you you’ll be dead in moments. You know that.” You look down and nod slowly. She cups your cheeks and lifts your head, smiling with her pointed teeth. “C’mon. Let’s go find something big to catch. I’m in the mood for a challenge.”

She pulls you forwards, swimming quickly while calling out, listening for any echoes or replies to clue her into the whereabouts of a large fish, preferable a swordfish or young shark. 

She suddenly perks up, the stabilizing wings on the sides of her tail flattening against her tail then shooting straight out as the gills on her neck move swiftly, taking in oxygenated water and disagreeing with everything else. She speeds off in the direction of the hunt and you follow, moving ahead of her as you catch the scent of a young adult great white shark. Your tail forces the water away from you, pushing you forwards.

Ryn comes up beside you and glances over at you, her sharp teeth bared and her once white eyes now fully purple with the promise of a meal. You slow down as you see the shark, your enhanced eyes finding it a few miles away. “Let’s have some fun,” Ryn says while swimming directly at the shark. You smile and swim after her, chasing her as she chases the shark.

It’s terrified. You can smell it. It turns around after a few more minutes of chase and you grin at the challenge it’s presenting. It snaps its jaws at Ryn and she squeals, moving out of the way as the fifteen-foot great white shark swims after her. You jump in, grabbing the shark’s dorsal fin and digging your nails into its side. It turns it’s head as much as it can and tries to snap at you. Ryn uses its distracted state and bites into its neck, tearing out a chunk of meat. You quickly do the same, catching some of its gills. It slowly stops struggling, bleeding out. You take another bite out of it, taking your time and eating the shark with Ryn.

“Save some for your sister. She hasn’t hunted today. She could use some food.” You nod and look around, hearing the calls of nearby Mermaids and Sirens as they smell the shark carcass.

“We should go before we need to fight for our catch,” you say, ripping a large chunk of meat off of the shark and swimming away from it as the calls get closer. Ryn grabs a chunk and swims after you, giggling happily.

“You’re back. I thought for sure you would’ve gone with the humans by now,” your sister says sarcastically, a relieved smile on her face. You nod and offer her the shark chunk. She smiles and takes it from you graciously. “Have you heard?” Ryn asks after a moment of silence. You look over at her with a frown, hoping she’s not going to tell your sister about the whole Pirate fiasco.

“I hear Pirates are going to Nassau to stock up then they’re going to find a kind of ancient treasure. Knowing them it’s probably a dead end.” You nod your agreement and sigh, thinking about the brown-eyed pirate boy. 

“I hear with the moon coming they may not make it. The Sirens want them and they’re not stopping this time,” Ariadné muses around a mouthful of shark. You frown at her, “we must brand the boat then. Protect the sailors.” Ariadné and Ryn both look at you as if you’ve grown a second head.

“Why would we do that? They go out of their way to find us and kill us. Let them be claimed by the Sirens,” your sister says carelessly. You slap your tail against the water and glare at her.

“That is not how we were raised! We aren’t careless creatures. We are not ruthless hunters! We help. Protect! You forget about that,” your voice trails off and you look at the two expectantly.

“Nothing. So that’s just it?! You leave them to be killed?” They both slowly nod. “Not me. I will not. I cannot.” With that you turn and swim out of the cavern quickly, your eyes hurting. Your sister and Ryn call out for you, their cries echoing in the deep sea. You roll your eyes and search for the old cave where your parents raised you.

~

“The full moon is coming. The sea has been too quiet these past few days. I fear the worst,” Steve says to his first mate. Bucky sighs and looks around the Captain’s quarters. “Tonight, isn’t it?” He asks, remembering the strange conversation he had with Peter a few days ago. 

“Yes. As the sun sets I fear we won’t live till morning.” Steve stands up and walks to the door. “Do not alert the men except those who know the dangers that lurk in these waters. We will need someone on watch tonight. I’ll take aft, you take astern. Find someone for Starboard and Port. Leave no section unmanned.” Bucky nods, knowing the first person he’ll get to watch.

“Parker, I have a task for you.” The young man looks up from his book as Bucky walks to the helm stairs. “Yes sir?” The metal-armed man sighs and looks around.

“Tonight is the full moon. The most dangerous time of the month. I would like you to be in charge of watching the starboard side of the ship tonight. You see anything, you shoot it then report to me. Understood?” Peter nods his head frantically, stuffing his book under the stairs and getting up.

“The winds are in our favour tonight. We should reach Nassau by dusk tomorrow,” Bucky says while walking away to take his own post. Peter leans over the rail and stares into the water, looking for any sign of anything resembling the woman he saw a few nights prior.

~

You carefully press the shell against the back bottom of the ship, burning your family’s brand into it. A shrill cry from behind you nearly makes you drop the shell. You look over your shoulder and bare your teeth, hissing at the Siren behind you. 

She balls her fists and cries again, clearly frustrated with your claim on the ship. You hiss again and move away from the ship, claiming your space further. She reluctantly turns and swims away, crying out every now and then to let other Siren’s know of the change in plans.

You’re suddenly thrust away from the ship, sharp nails raking down through the brand. You hiss at the person, recoiling as you see who it is. “I told you to leave the Pirates alone!” Your older sister snarls, her voice still melodic. 

The Siren stops and looks back, intrigued by whatever’s happening. “And I told you that I will not!” Your voice is threatening. “I can’t believe you. These people have taken everything from you. Your mother and father. Some of your friends. I will not have you defend them!” She grabs your arms and you wail loudly as her nails dig into your skin.

The Siren circles back to the ship and is quick to scratch the brand fully off. “No!” You thrust your elbow back and catch your sister in the ribs. She falls back and watches you in shock as you swim quickly to the Siren, grabbing her hair and slamming her head against the ship. She cries out and holds her heard, snarling at you. You dig your nails into her throat, slicing one of her gills. She shoves herself away from you and swims away quickly, clutching her neck.

“You are a fool!” Your sister exclaims. You turn to her and bare your teeth. “I will not have you ruining my chances of saving innocent men!” She chuckles and looks at the ship. watches as it rocks in the waves.

“How do you know they’re innocent? How do you know that they do not slaughter us and our sisters? You don't! Do not go and defend people when you do not know their actions!” You shove her shoulders again. “And do not go and kill people without knowing their actions! If you do it makes you no better than them!” She stares you down then looks up, watching as the ship sways some more.

“I will not go out of my way to defend people who have killed my family. If you wish to that is your choice. But if you get hurt do not come crying to me.” She turns and swims away from you, shunning you from what’s left of your family. You cry softly, high pitched and sad, but your sister doesn’t so much as flinch. You look down for a moment, saddened by the fact that you’ve lost the remainder of your family.

~

Peter looks out across the water, darkened by the fallen sun but lit up by the stars and full moon. All throughout the night, he’s been hearing light calls that sound similar to whales and he’s kept his gun high.

A rock suddenly hits his chest lightly, surprising him. He looks around the ship but upon finding no one, shrugs and looks back at the rock, his eyebrows jumping almost off of his face. The exact same red rock that he lost in the water a few nights before is lying right on the rail in front of him. He looks out into the water, searching for you.

Little does he know that you’re just below the surface, your eyes on the gun in his hand.

He glances at the rock again and carefully picks it up, placing the gun down and tossing the rock back into the water. You raise your head out and catch the rock, smiling gently as Peter looks at you. “It’s you,” he whispers, recognizing you. He glances up at the moon as Bucky’s words bounce around in his head then grabs the gun, aiming it at you.

The smile falls from your face and you watch as Peter seems to fight an internal battle. You look down at the rock in your hand then back up at Peter, holding the rock up for him to see. He opens his hand and you toss the rock to him. He holds it in his hand carefully then looks at you, noticing how you’re staring at the gun. He gently sets it down and offers you the rock again.

You catch it and swim forwards a bit, keeping your senses on high alert for any hostile movement from under the water or above.

He glances over his shoulder, noticing the man keeping watch on the port side is fast asleep and Bucky and Steve are nowhere to be found. He looks back at you, surprised to see you so much closer.

“Are you going to hurt us?” He finds himself asking the question before he can think. You’re surprised by him directly talking to you. “I don’t hurt,” you reply. Peter nods, entranced by your voice.

“Do you have a name?” You smile up at him, lifting your shoulders out of the water. “Yes. I am (Y/n).” He tests the name and grins. “I-I’m Peter.” You giggle lightly, the sound dazing Peter.

“I know,” you whisper. He blushes and looks over his shoulder. “If you’re not going to hurt us... why are you here?” You look down at the water for a moment then back up to him. “Because I am intrigued. You are humans. I have never... met a human.” Peter nods slowly, trying to understand why you’d want to meet a human.

“Well, look you can’t be up here. The others aren’t like me. They see you and they won’t wait for you to explain. They’ll kill you in cold blood.” You tilt your head to the side.

“But not you?”

He shakes his head ‘no’ and smiles lightly. “Not me. I haven’t been raised like them. Your kind hasn’t given me any reason to want to hate you.” You find yourself in awe of his spirit. “You need to go though. If anyone sees you... you’ll be in trouble.” You swim back a bit then look up into his eyes. “Will I see you again?” You ask desperately.

He looks over his shoulder, his eyes widening as he sees Bucky emerge from the Captain’s quarters. “Peter?” You ask. He looks back at you then at the rock in his hand. “We make port in Nassau by tomorrow night. I’ll walk along the beach and find a doc. Leave the rock somewhere you can go and I’ll find you.” He tosses the rock to you and you catch it, ducking under the water and swimming away quickly.

“Parker? Is there something there?” Bucky asks, jogging to his side quickly. Peter looks at the man and shakes his head no. “I... I just thought I saw something. I threw a rock at it and it was nothing though. Can... is there any way I’d be able to switch shifts? I think my eyes are playing tricks on me. I need to get some sleep.” Bucky pats his shoulder and nods.

“You go get some shuteye, I’ll take over for you.” The young man glances across the water again then heads away from the rail and below deck to the crew’s quarters.

~

“Alright, everyone. Make quick work of rowing to shore. We don’t want to be in the deeper waters for longer than we must,” Steve says, taking the first of a few longboats.

“I’ll... I’ll catch up. I want to gather my thoughts,” Peter says as the second last boat goes. “You’re alright rowing by yourself?” Bucky asks from inside the longboat. Peter nods, needing time to himself. Bucky nods and rows away with the boat full of people, leaving Peter to himself.

After a few moments he lowers the longboat then jumps in, grabbing the oars and slowly rowing towards the shore.

“Peter,” you whisper while breaking the surface right beside him. “Jesus!” He tosses the oar half a foot away from him and nearly tips the boat over in his state of fright. “I am sorry. I did not mean to scare.” 

He looks at you then does a double-take, your beauty so much more enchanting in the daylight. “(Y/n)...” You rest your arms on the side of the boat and look up at him. “Yes, Peter?” He simply stares at you, taking in your form for the first time up close, enjoying your strangely accented voice.

Your eyes are a striking shade of (y/e/c), brilliant and bright. Your skin, smooth and (s/c) is covered in iridescent scales. The scales are light on your face, only on your jawline and by your hairline, not covering your face. On your neck, they gradually get more concentrated and underneath your collarbones, they cover you like a skin-tight suit.

Peter slowly leans forwards, his eyes moving down past the edge of the boat and into the clear water where your tail would be. “Peter?” His eyes snap back up to your face and he backs up a bit. “You’re out... It’s bright outside. Someone could see you.” You look around then back up to him. “I have never been this close to a human before,” You whisper, raising a hand off of the boat and slowly extending it towards him.

“Can I touch?” He looks at the webbing between your scaly fingers and the stabilizing wings on your forearm then nods, looking to your eyes as you run your fingers over his shirt, feeling the fabric carefully. “It is soft,” you whisper after a moment, looking back up to his eyes. He nods then looks towards the dock. “I need to go to shore. They’ll be waiting.” You frown and pull your hand back.

“We’re staying here for a few days. Then we’ll be back on the water.” You nod your understanding and bite your bottom lip. You slowly move away from the boat and head swim backwards. 

“Bye Bye Peter.” You turn around. “Wait! Will I see you again?” He asks. You smile to yourself and raise one of your hands out of the water. “I leave the rock where I will be.” He smiles and watches as you submerge yourself, your tail flicking above the water as you swim away.

~

“Tonight, good men, we splurge! Find a dame, a woman. Let yourselves go! We leave in a few days so enjoy yourselves!” Steve cries, his arm around a brown-haired woman with a British accent. Bucky is with a different brown-haired woman, this one voluptuous. “Don’t expect to see us around anytime soon either,” Bucky adds while kissing the woman.

Peter turns away and walks out of the bar and down to the beach, sitting in the sand as the moon shines down brightly, a warm breeze blowing through his curly brown hair. He looks down either side of the beach, stopping as his eyes rest on a pair of legs on the dry sand. He follows the legs and stops on the face, his heart stuttering. 

He runs through the sand, probably looking ridiculous, and slows when he nears you. 

You’re lying on the sand, unconscious and naked. 

He pulls his sweater off and drapes it over your body before carefully shaking your arm. “(Y/n)?” Your breathing is heavy and it concerns him a bit, the concert getting shoved away as you slowly open your eyes.

“Peter?” You ask softly, pushing yourself up onto your forearms. The sweater falls off of your skin and Peter blushes, pick it up and draping it over your shoulders. “How... how do you have legs?” He asks, his fingers hovering over them for a moment before he pulls his hand back. “Mermaid can be human out of water.” He nods and looks around.

“You stay here. I’m gonna go grab you some clothes. Then we’ll... take it from there, okay?” You nod your head yes and watch him with wide eyes as he stands up and walks away from the beach. You look down at your own legs and wiggle your toes, giggling a little at the feel of it. You dig your feet into the sand and throw your head back laughing at the tickling feeling of the sand between your toes.

Peter hears your tinkling laugh and can’t help but smile, wondering what’s causing it. He grabs some clothes from a store with no one watching and hurries back to you.

“Here, I got you some pants that looked your size and I figured you could keep my sweater.” You look up at him with a smile on your face. “Peter is kind. Why?” He hands you the clothes and shrugs, “because (Y/n) is kind.” Your eyes soften and you look away, down to the clothes. 

“Can Peter help (Y/n)? Please?” Peter nods and takes the pants from your hands, straightening them then gently taking one of your ankles and putting it through the leg hole. He does the same on the other leg then takes your hands and brings them to his shoulders.

“I’m going to stand up with you. Hold onto me.” You nod and let him pull you to a standing position. His hands grab the waistband of the comfortably tight pants and he pulls them up all the way, a fiery blush staining his cheeks the entire time. His fingers rest on your waist for a moment before he pulls them away to help you into the sweater. 

As soon as it’s on properly you grab his hand and look at it closely, your eyes flashing to his as you rest your hand against his. He stays perfectly still as you bring your other hand to his chest, his shirt unbuttoned and open. Your hand rests on his bare skin, tracing over the crisp lines of his muscles.

“Peter is soft,” you whisper, your fingers trailing down lightly below his bellybutton, following the line of hair until you get to his pants. “Yeah, my skin is soft. So is yours.” 

You smile, “(y/n) is soft too?” He chuckles and brings his hand up to your face, his fingers lightly tracing your cheek and down your neck. “Yes. (Y/n) is very soft.” You close your eyes as Peter’s hands move down your neck. He pulls away only to grab your waist, his fingers pressing into the soft skin under the sweater. 

“So soft,” he mutters. You sigh and slowly open your eyes. “Will Peter tell (Y/n) about humans?” You ask quietly, looking up into his soft brown eyes. “Uh... sure. W-What do you wanna know?” You bring your hands to his shoulders and usher him down to the sand. “Everything.”

Peter lies down on the sand with you beside him, your hands in his as he tells you everything you want to know.

[paragonrobits]

“I can’t die,” Bruce says softly, quietly. He doesn’t make it sound like a boast, as so many villains have done. He doesn’t know why he says it like this. It just comes straight from his heart, a raw and horrible thing rising straight from his guts. “The Hulk won’t stay dead. He’s always there, for me... for us, all of me, pulling me back from the other side. I can’t die. I can’t stay dead.”

He sighs. And with his exhalation, a fresh swell of fury wells up.

“Because letting myself go like that... letting myself stay dead... is like letting people like you win.”

Blonsky says nothing. He just stares, and there is something sorrowful on that twisted ruin of a face.

“I can’t lose. I can’t let myself lose to anyone. Because if the Hulk can lose... if the Hulk isn’t the strongest there is... then the people who need me to be a monster will die. It means that my father wins, in the end. That he was right; that the only thing that matters is who you can get away with hurting.” Bruce snarls the worlds out: “I can’t let him win! There has to be a comeuppance! There has to be consequences for doing what they do and I am that consequence!”

It feels intimate. A confession, to an enemy.

The fury leaves him, for a moment.

It’ll be back, soon enough. Rage is just the loud and fierce brother to melancholy, depression and loss, and Bruce Banner’s soul screams with it. He weeps for the whole world, all of it; from the mutants dying at the hands of clouds that descend from the heavens as kings look on unmoved without a trace of remorse, to a world so cruel that Wakanda had to hide its wonders away for countless millennia, to every week a fresh tragedy and a new reason for people to be afraid...

He sees the dead, he hears the pleas of loss in the back of his head. Some of them are his fault.

His heart was broken a long time ago. He goes on, nonetheless.

“Even if everything else in the planet dies, even if the air turned to poison... I would still be hear. My lungs would change to breath that poison in. No matter what, I’ll always be there, and if it kills me?” Bruce laughs. “I won’t lose. I can’t lose. Not to anyone. Not to you, not to the things below the world, not to death itself. I’ll never stop making people like you pay.”

Blonsky finally speaks.

“They’ll never thank you, or care. You’ll never be anything to anyone, or to history... but a monster.”

And there is is. Bruce almost sighs in relief.

“I know,” he says simply, regarding Blonsky’s twisted face; the scaly skin, the overlapping plates of jagged hornlike structure, a faint cast that is not even remotely human, only vaguely recognizable as anthropoid let alone the face of Emil Blonsky... and yet there is a terrible irony.

There is no other in Emil Blonsky. No monster hiding inside him. No hidden voice cajoling him or inspiring him to greater feats of monstrosity, or some hidden nastiness begging to be let loose.

Blonsky was always this. He never became a monster. He was always like this; he did his dirty work with guns and tanks and military command, but he was an abomination inside and out. There’s no monster inside, clawing its way out. This is the face of a man who has always thought of himself as a monster, and had denied it until his power twisted his body into something that seemed a fit for the ugliness he imagined inside himself.

Blonsky doesn’t have a Hulk. There’s no shadow side for him, no hollowed out simulacrum of a self. Blonsky was his own Hulk, his own monster.

Now, Bruce realizes, perhaps his old enemy thought the same held true for everyone else. Thought that Bruce was a mask, and the Hulk the beast he let loose.

It never occurred to him that a wave could also be a particle. That both could be equally true, equally valid, equally him.

“Then they know what I am, and what I’ll always be,” Bruce says. For a moment, he sees a flash of horror in Blonsky’s eyes, and he smiles.

It’s more frightening than anything the Hulk has done.

[kandoesfanfics-writes]

Maribat Secret Santa 2019

@eve-valution, here’s your gift!!! I really hope you enjoy it! :) 

Warning: There is a scene of physical assault later in the fic.

Marinette could feel her heart thudding against her chest as her anxiety began to claw at her throat. She knew that objectively that she looked perfect. Her dress had no noticeable flaws. Her makeup was on point, including her waterproof mascara and eyeliner. There wasn't a hair out of place. Her mask was flawless. Her hotel mirror didn’t lie. There wasn’t a single thing out of place with her outfit

So why did she feel so on edge?

It couldn't be because of her class.

While it was true that they would be attending the Wayne Christmas Gala, thanks to Bruce Wayne himself, Marinette wouldn’t be going with the class. She was going with Jagged Stone as his special guest and personal designer. No one in the class had seen her dress or her mask (as it was a masquerade theme with a midnight reveal) beforehand, so she should be unrecognizable. She would be able to enjoy the party without having to dodge her would-be tormentors.

"Calm down, Marinette! You look gorgeous. I'm sure you'll have fun at the gala. You're sure to turn heads!" a cheerful voice gently reminded her charge.

The little red and black Kwami was gently patting her cheek, trying not to smear her makeup. Tikki just knew Marinette would have an excellent time at the gala. She couldn't tell exactly why, but the Goddess of Creation learned a long time ago that she could trust her gut. Marinette would have a wonderful time with or without her class. Preferably without...

"Thanks, Tikki," Marinette sighed. "It’s just...tonight’s a big night. Uncle Jagged’s officially introducing me to the world. People will know I’m his designer...and it’s a lot.”

Tikki nodded sagely. She knew what her chosen meant. While Marinette felt very honored, and in Tikki’s opinion had rightfully earned everything, she still felt nervous about facing the rest of the world. Marinette knew there would be critics, there always were, but this was something entirely new. The unknown was frightening, and Tikki felt proud of Marinette for deciding to jump headfirst into this.

Marinette adjusted the silky black gloves on her arms again before looking at her heart. The little pink heart smiled at Marinette before floating over to sit on her shoulder. It was still cracked quite badly, but it had regained some color thanks to her platonic soulmates. She was nervous to have her heart come along with her, but she’d been reassured by Tikki several times that everything would be perfectly fine. Her little heart would be happier staying with Marinette rather than sitting back in the hotel room. Marinette would be happier too.

Tikki knew that humans could be separated from their hearts, but that it wasn’t healthy for them. Their hearts were the representation of their souls. To lock one’s heart away or be separated from it had potentially devastating consequences. While she knew Marinette would be okay away from her heart for a few hours, Marinette’s mood would surely tank the longer she was separated from her heart. Tikki wanted to make sure that Marinette had the best time at this gala.

Marinette looked at the clock before rushing to put on her black heels and grab her black clutch. Jagged and Penny would be there soon. Marinette looked at her phone to see Penny had texted her that they were almost at the hotel and to meet them in the lobby. Marinette’s class wouldn’t be leaving for another hour and were currently at dinner. There should be no one to see her sneak out.

There should have been no one to see her sneak out.

Unfortunately for her, there was one classmate that was not at dinner.

Adrien hadn’t felt like having Lila draped all over him during dinner, so he’d lied to Ms. Bustier. He told the redheaded woman that he wasn’t feeling well, and she’d let him go without a fight. The blond had seen Marinette leaving the hotel, eyes glued to her as long as she was in sight. He felt his heart pound as he wrestled internally.

“I don’t love Marinette! I love Ladybug, and only Ladybug...but Marinette sure looked amazing in that dress. Maybe Kagami was right though… maybe it's time I change my target.”

The blond knew their friendship had been rocky since the whole Lila thing, but if there was one thing Adrien knew, it was that Marinette was the most kind person he'd every ever met. She'd surely forgive him once he explained everything! And who knows… maybe she could be his soulmate. Ladybug was supposed to be his other half, but Adrien knew that there were more than one type of soulmate. Perhaps Ladybug wasn’t his romantic soulmate after all.

Adrien had never touched Marinette's heart before. He had been expressly forbidden by his father to touch other people's hearts because 'it could complicate or sour business relations'. Adrien had broken that rule only a few times.

Chloe and Nino were the only two people aside from his family whose hearts he'd come into contact with. Nino was silver, defining him as a platonic soulmate. Chloe's bond had been a metallic blue, signaling her as a sibling bond. Had because Adrien wasn't sure if it had remained the same. He hadn't touched Chloe's heart since Lila joined their class.

Who knows?

Maybe Marinette was destined to be his golden match. 

If there was one thing Damian Wayne despised, it was these vapid charity galas his father forced him to attend.

There was nothing enjoyable about standing around while rich people faked basic social skills. It happened every year without fail. Bruce would show up with select members of his brood. Ladies would flaunt their jewelry, dresses, and wealth at them, trying to flirt. Women would surround Bruce, and he’d be lost until one of his investors or someone else came to speak with him. Women would also come and gather around the Wayne boys, and if Cass showed up, there would be some men too.

This year Jason and Cass were on patrol along with Stephanie and Kate. Red Hood, Black Bat, Spoiler, and Batwoman would be on the move throughout Gotham. This would leave Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian to attend the gala. Dick was going to be the only one safe from the clutches of the rich socialites. He was attending the gala with his wife and husband. No one would DARE hit on Dick while Kor’i and Wally were nearby…well so long as Kor'i was nearby.

Tim was flying solo for now. Time would only tell if Conner would show up to see him. However, Damian also knew that Tim would be more than preoccupied with the investors and other people inquiring about the company. Women would still throw themselves at Tim, but it wouldn’t be the same. Tim would easily be able to divert his attention to the business aspect while he would have to suffer like his father.

Since Damian was only sixteen, and had no real stake in the company just yet, there wasn’t much to talk about aside from his classes at Gotham Academy. The girls wouldn’t care about his schooling, so they would coo and clamor for his attention. They would tell him all about them and ask if he was dating anyone. It made Damian want to vomit.

He looked in irritation at his father before Damian demanded to know if he could go on patrol as well. Bruce shook his head before saying, “You know the deal, Damian. It’s your turn this year. Besides, you might have fun. Jared’s coming with his wife and his new designer. Apparently, his designer is a young lady your age.”

Damian rolled his eyes at that. Sure, he’d have a great time with some snooty designer. He wasn’t expecting her to be any different than the designers he’d met before. He was almost positive she would be full of herself, brag about her many accomplishments, and try to woo her way into the family. Just like all the others before her, this girl would get on Damian’s last nerve. He’d then be in trouble for insulting a lady’s sensitivities, and Bruce would pretend to apologize.

“I saw that, Damian. Jared, or as he’s now known Jagged, doesn’t hang around just anyone. He’s the only one allowed to be a primadonna, so the people around him are usually very down to earth,” Bruce said. “Give her a chance, please? Jagged said she’s never been to an event like this before. Besides, with masks on, no one should know who we are until midnight. Then you only have about an hour or two of the ladies trying to woo you.”

The youngest Wayne gave a deep sigh before telling his father he’d give the girl a chance. If she’d never been to one of these events before, perhaps there was still hope for her yet. Maybe if Damian kept her all to himself, she might be a bearable gala partner. He pulled on his overcoat before walking to the limo with his brothers, brother-in-law, and sister-in-law.

There was no getting around it, so Damian might as well try and have fun. Besides, Bruce had a point. Since this year’s theme was a masquerade, perhaps he could avoid the annoying ladies until the end of the party. He could walk around incognito to everyone but his family, and perhaps he could actually enjoy himself for once.

Well, Damian thought, what could it hurt to hope? ———————————————————————— The second Penny saw her, the pink haired woman cooed over Marinette.

“Oh, my little star! Look how gorgeous you are! I love the design! Jagged, isn’t she just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”

Jagged smiled widely at Marinette before giving her a thumbs up.

“Rockin’ outfit, Nettie! They’re sure to go wild for it!” Jagged said with a grin. “I’m lovin’ that mask.”

Marinette smiled before looking over Penny and Jagged.

“Everything fits, right? No one had any wardrobe malfunctions?” she asked, tense in her seat.

Penny laughed before telling her everything was perfect. Her mask was white with black around the eyes, decorated with pink lightning bolts made of rhinestones. Her dress was a mermaid style with ombre fabric. It started off at pink at the top that faded into black at the bottom. She was wearing the pink diamond necklace Jagged had gotten her as along with the pink diamond ring when he proposed to her. She had iridescent music notes sewn into her dress with translucent thread.

Jagged’s suit was an ombre as well except for instead of pink, it was purple that faded into black. His suit had similar music note designs. His mask was solid black with flames on it. Jagged wanted him and Penny to have similar designs as this would be the first event they would be attending as husband and wife. He was holding Penny close as he smiled brightly at Marinette.

“When we get there I’ll introduce you to my old pal, Bruce Wayne,” Jagged told her. “We went to school together when we were boys, and he was really the only one who thought me being a musician was a perfect fit for me. I’m positive he’ll commission you the second he sees your amazing work.”

“It’s really-”

“Now, little star,”  Penny began, her tone warning. “We’ve talked about this; no more talking yourself down! You’re brilliant, Marinette. You’ve earned your place here with your amazing designs.”

Their hearts nodded eagerly from their spots on the couple’s shoulder. Jagged’s royal purple heart was holding onto Penny’s raspberry pink heart. Both were smiling at Marinette, reflecting their owners pride and affection for the young lady.

“Okay,” Marinette responded softly. “It is amazing...but do you really think Bruce Wayne will like it?”

“Of course, Nettie! Little star, that man can be surprisingly rock ‘n roll for a bigshot,” Jagged said with a grin. “Besides, you’re way too awesome for him not to like!”

The driver chose then to let them know they had arrived. Marinette looked out at the crowd as her anxiety skyrocketed. That was a lot of people...and a lot of cameras. She felt her heart burrow into the safety of her dress. She touched her face anxiously to make sure that her mask was still firmly in place. Reassured that it was, Marinette followed Jagged and Penny out of the car.

Only for her to be swept away by the lights and cameras. ——————————————————————— The press was there and were making a nuisance of themselves.

Fantastic.

Damian forgot how much he hated the press until there were cameras being shoved in his face. Even with his green cat shaped mask, most of the press immediately parted to let him through. He figured it was what Jason called his ‘murderous aura’ that made people move away from him, even though they had no way of knowing he was Damian Wayne. He had almost reached the door when his heart tugged his hair, making him look to his left. He spotted someone shaking in terror as microphones were shoved in her face.

She looked to be only about five foot, maybe five foot one in her heels. She was wearing a gorgeous sleeveless qipao that reached just above her ankles. It was black with the most intricate embroidery that Damian had ever seen. The bright red thread swirled into delicate flowers...and what appeared to be ladybugs on closer inspection. Her hair was in a bun with two delicate gold hair sticks as her accessory.

Damian could tell she was freezing, clearly not being prepared to be outside with the press for as long as she’d been. She had her arms crossed, rubbing her gloved hands against her bare skin. She was trying to answer one question until another reporter asked her something else, distracting and overwhelming her.

His jade green heart kept tugging aggressively on his hair, eventually flitting down to his sleeve. It tugged and tugged until Damian began walking towards her. His heart flew back under his suit coat the closer he got to the cameras. He took off his coat, strolling over casually to the young woman. He gently draped his coat over her shoulders, before smiling stiffly at the press.

“Enough with your rudeness,” Damian said as politely as possible. “Miss, why don’t I escort you inside? And please, keep the jacket until you warm up.”

The young lady looked up at him in shock, and Damian nearly felt his throat close. True, he couldn’t see half her face, but what he could see were two absolutely breathtaking blue eyes. Her mask was solid black, much like her dress, embroidered with the same red thread and design as her dress. She looked at him timidly as he gently guided her into the building.

“Are you all right, Miss? The press can be animals,” he said, arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders. “Are you here with anyone? Maybe I can help you find-”

Damian paused as his heart peeked out from behind his suit jacket. His green eyes widened as his cracked and bruised heart gently pressed against the young lady’s bare cheek. His throat went dry as his heart shimmered gold. He saw her blue eyes go wide as well as she reached up to cradle the heart in her silk covered hands.

“Oh..OH!” she said in clear shock.

Her heart peeked out from inside her clutch, still trembling. Damian figured her heart was probably still stressed from the previous situation with the press. He gently held out his hand and watched as the pale pink heart warily floated into his hand. The moment it touched Damian’s fingers, it shimmered gold as well.

“Hello there,” Damian said softly. “It’s very nice to meet you, my golden match.” —————————————————————— Marinette felt like she was going to panic.

Jagged and Penny were nowhere in sight. They’d gotten separated when the paparazzi started swarming around her. She had cameras shoved in her face as people asked her a million questions at once. She could feel her heart trembling in her clutch as she tried to navigate the cameras and questions.

She could barely hear what they were asking her over the pounding of her heart. How in Kwami’s name was this supposed to be fun?! Marinette was freezing now since she couldn’t get inside. The camera crews were blocking her path, and she was struggling to make her way through. Marinette started to shake as she became overwhelmed and nauseous.

Then she felt a weight on her shoulders and felt warmth surround her. She looked up just in time to watch a handsome young man tell the press off. He had dark black hair that was spiked up and beautiful jade eyes. His mask was a dark green color, cat shaped with pale gold thread making a beautiful looping design on it. He had a strong jaw, and gorgeously tanned skin. He was built, and Marinette felt much safer with his arm around her protectively. He led her into the building without hesitation, taking her away from the flashes of the cameras.

She felt her heartbeat in her throat as the man told her to keep the jacket until she was warm. Marinette couldn’t help but feel touched when the man asked her if she was okay. He genuinely seemed concerned for her and was about to offer his assistance until a gorgeous jade color heart popped out of his suit jacket. Marinette nearly bit the inside of her cheek as she looked at the heart.

It was badly cracked and bruised, much like her own heart. Marinette felt it press gently against her cheek and watched the young man’s green eyes widen. Why were his eyes widening? Unless...unless his heart was reacting to her? Was it? Could they be soulmates?!

Marinette’s eyes widened as she reached up to touch the heart. She looked down at the heart, still a brilliant gold color, resting in her hands.

“Oh...OH!” she said shocked.

She watched her own heart peek out from her clutch. The little pink heart was still trembling, though Marinette couldn’t blame it. She was still rather shaken up after the whole incident with the press. The only thing keeping her grounded was the golden heart in her hands, and the arm that anchored her to the present.

She watched as the man held out his free hand towards her heart. Marinette was surprised to see her heart actually float towards him. It was watching him warily, but the second it touched his fingers, it turned a brilliant gold. She looked up at him, only feel her knees go weak at the expression on his face.

Those green eyes were locked onto her with the gentlest expression Marinette had ever seen. He was smiling at her broadly before saying, “Hello there. It’s nice to meet you, my golden match.”

Marinette flushed a brilliant red color before looking down at her shoes. Why was he looking at her like that?! He didn’t know anything about her! So what if they were romantic soulmates? That didn’t mean she’d fall in love with a complete stranger just like that! She looked back up at him to see he was looking at her with concern.

“I-I-I’m not go-go-going to fal-fall for you just be-be-because we’re golden hearts!” Marinette stammered, her accent coming in thick. “I-I don’t kn-know you!”

She braced herself for the anger that would come with her response. Chat Noir had always gotten angry at Ladybug for telling him that she would not fall in love with him. He would scream at her that they were meant to be and that she did really love him. He would grab her wrists and shake her, telling her to stop being so stubborn and accept fate. Chat had also gotten very cross with her for not letting him see her heart.

She’d told him several times that if she showed him her heart, then he’d be able to figure out her civilian identity. Chat had told her he didn’t care. They were Ladybug and Chat Noir, two halves of a whole, destined to be together for the rest of their lives. Marinette had responded that she barely knew Chat, and she couldn’t fall in love with a stranger.

“...Miss! Miss! Are you okay? You’re shaking,” a voice broke through. “Do you want me to leave?”

Marinette’s world snapped back into focus. She noticed that know her golden heartmate’s hands were resting on her upper arms. He was leaning over to look her in the eye. The worry was clear in his expression. He smiled at her reassuringly before saying, “It’s okay. That’s perfectly understandable. I’m a complete stranger to you, soulmate or not. If you’d be comfortable, would you like to accompany me? We could talk during the party, but if you’re not comfortable, I’ll take my leave.”

Marinette couldn’t help the look of shock that appeared on her face. He...he didn’t mind? He didn’t mind that Marinette wasn’t in love with him on sight? He-he wanted to talk with her? He wanted to get to know her? He would leave if she asked? Was he really that concerned about her comfort?

“I...could...you really aren’t angry?”

She watched her heartmate’s expression shift into shock.

“Red...why would I be angry? We’re both complete strangers to one another. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted me to leave, or at the very least, wanted me to take off my mask so you can see my face,” he said. “You’re my golden match, but if we aren’t meant to be together at this moment, than I can wait a little longer for you. Besides, not all golden soulmates end up together. Some choose to love others outside their bond...just because we’re golden doesn’t mean we’re trapped in a relationship.”

Marinette almost began to cry in relief. Her eyes watered as she realized this guy wasn’t going to be like Chat. He was giving her a choice. He didn’t look like he wanted to leave her, but he was giving her the chance to walk away. If she said she didn’t want to talk to him, he told her he’d leave. For whatever reason, Marinette believed him when he said it too. There was just a strong feeling in her gut that told her he wasn’t lying to her.

“...would...would you mind escorting me around?” Marinette asked timidly. “I lost the people I came with.”

“Of course, Red,” he replied, holding out his arm. “This way.” ———————————————————— Damian was very concerned about his golden heartmate.

She was terrified after telling him that she wasn’t going to fall in love with him just because they were golden heartmates. She had zoned out after that, her blue eyes staring off into empty space. She had gone extremely pale, and her eyes were haunted. She had even begun to tremble, leading him to grip her upper arms and try to get her attention.

She was clearly thinking of something extremely distressing or trapped in an unpleasant memory. He called to her until she came back to him, distress clear in her body language. He tried to smile reassuringly at her while comforting her. Damian reassured her that he didn’t expect her to fall in love with him on the spot, and that if she wanted him too, he’d leave her alone.  

Damian really wanted to get to know his golden heartmate, but clearly she’d been badly hurt by someone. He wouldn’t push her to accompany him around the gala if it was going to hurt her further. He didn’t want to hurt her...not her. He was sorely tempted to grab his katana and run through whoever made her so terrified of establishing boundaries with people.

Just because she was his soulmate didn’t mean she owed him shit! She was her own woman. She was free to do what she wished, with or without him.  Damian would very much like it to be with him, but once again, he didn’t own her. If she didn’t wish to, she didn’t have to be with him.

His heart looked sadly at the girl when she asked Damian if he was angry. Damian looked down at her heart, which was holding itself and looking up at him with such trepidation. It made him sad, and his heart reflected that, looking up at her with such sorrow.

Who had hurt her like this?

Damian told her exactly how he felt about everything. They were strangers. He wasn't expecting her to swoon upon seeing him. He'd wait for her. He'd be willing to give her up should that be what she desired. He didn't own her, soulmate or not, and Damian wanted his soulmate to make the choice to be with him.

He'd called her Red on instinct, feeling it would not be wise to ask her name at the present moment. If they decided to separate now, the odds of them knowing who the other was and finding them again would be slim. As much as it hurt, Damian was prepared to leave in order to show his respect for her feelings.

Then she asked if he would take her around, and Damian felt a spark of hope.

“Of course, Red,” he replied, holding out his arm. “This way.”

Red took his arm timidly, but had a firm grip on him. She was looking around anxiously until they stepped into the ballroom. Then Damian watched as Red's eyes went wide, a smile breaking out on her face. She almost immediately released his arm to pull a small sketchbook out of her clutch.

Damian watched as Red flipped to a blank page, noticing the book was full of clothing designs.

"The architecture is very beautiful," Damian said,  looking around. "The Waynes have their Christmas Gala here every year. It was a tradition Bruce Wayne's parents started."

"I can see why!" Red said enthusiastically. "It's absolutely gorgeous."

"Getting any good ideas, Red?"

"Oh, I'm getting plenty, Green. I apologize, but if I don't at least write the details out, I'll completely forget what I was thinking."

Damian raised an eyebrow at the nickname. Green? Oh well, Damian figured there were worse things she could call him. At least she was talking to him without fear…

And what a beautiful sight it was.

Red was much more animated now. She was smiling brightly as she sketched away in her little book. She even started to talk about herself a little. She mentioned she was a designer here as someone's special guest. She told him that she'd designed their outfits as well as her own… though admitting that seemed to bring back some anxiety.

"You are very talented," Damian said with a gentle tone. "That qipao looks absolutely divine. You did the embroidery by yourself?"

Red flushed beautifully at his words. Her big blue eyes looked at him with surprise before responding that yes, she had done everything herself. She then asked how on earth he knew it was a qipao.

"My mother," Damian replied with a shrug. "I haven't quite found a passion like you have,  Red. I will probably go into business like my father before me."

"Your father's a businessman?" Red asked, slowing her furious pencil strokes.

"Yes, and so is my one brother."

"What about your mother?"

"...we don't talk anymore. She wasn't… she tried, but she wasn't the best mother."

Red looked sad at that before quietly apologizing for asking.

"Red, don't apologize. Believe it or not, that's the nicest way anyone's ever asked about my mother," Damian tried to reassure her.

That seemed to set something off in Red.

"What do you mean? That's the nicest way?! Just what were these people asking?" she demanded, her adorable accent getting thicker.

Damian laughed before quickly trying to change the topic. Red seemed to dislike that until he told her if he gave her an answer, she would be able to figure out who he was easy. Damian pointed out that if she wanted to know the real him, Red would need to talk to him without knowing his name. She seemed confused, so Damian explained.

"Not everyone gets to be themselves in their day to day lives. Celebrities, for example, have an image they need to uphold at all times or it could ruin their careers and damage their reputation. Some people you hear their name and have an immediate idea of who they should be based off their media coverage. Just because that's how you think it should be doesn't make it right."

Red seemed to ponder that for a moment before saying, "No names, no identifying information,  but everything else is fair game."

"Sounds reasonable. What does your family do?" Damian asked.

"My parents are bakers. I think Papa was hoping I'd carry on the family business, and I do love baking, but fashion is where my heart is. I don't have any siblings."

"Want some of mine? I have four officially adopted siblings and a gaggle of people who might as well be my siblings. They're around our house often enough."

Red laughed before saying the house must be busy. Damian rolled his eyes and told her she had no idea. He nearly melted at her genuine laughter, finding her rather adorable when she was smiling.

They continued to ask each other questions, and Damian found himself utterly fascinated by the young lady beside him. She was Chinese-French. She was from Paris, and her class was here on a trip. She was sixteen, and in the French equivalent of high school. She had already won a fashion contest and designed for famous individuals. She was an only child, but babysat frequently. She wanted a hamster for a pet but loved other animals as well. She was very excited when Damian told her he had a pet cow.

He had also learned that she was being bullied. She admitted there was a girl in her class who was constantly lying, and despite that, everyone believed her and liked her. This girl had turned their entire class against Red. She’d almost gotten Red expelled, and that was merely the tip of the iceberg. Red continued to tell him about all the nasty things this girl had done to her, and how only one classmate knew the girl was lying and had done nothing to stop her. Red admitted that it was nice to finally be able to vent about the situation, since her class wouldn’t believe her and told him about Hawkmoth as well.

Damian quietly made a mental note to check the Justice League’s database to see if they’d been aware of the situation. If not, he would quickly rectify this mistake. After all, there was a super villain that needed to be stopped.

In return he told her that he wasn't originally from Gotham, but had been living there for the last six years with his father. He told her he was sixteen as well and attended high school. He told her about his pets, especially Batcow upon seeing her excitement. He told her about his day-to-day life, and they made their way over to the food spread.

Damian took turns eating with Red after asking the other a question. He found himself having fun with the young lady beside him. She was very sweet and funny. She took her time answering his question and asked him very thoughtful ones about himself. Red really seemed to want to get to know him, and she really paid attention to Damian’s answers. The fact she looked adorable in his coat didn’t hurt either. She still had it over her shoulders, occasionally pulling it closed like a security blanket.

Their hearts seemed to be content together as well. They had started the evening on one another’s shoulders, but eventually, Red’s pink heart decided to hold hands with Damian’s own jade heart. Damian secretly hoped that Red’s heart trusting his meant that Red was starting to trust him as well.

They were discussing what they’d like to do for college when someone screamed Red’s name. ———————————————————————— Marinette felt a chill creep down her spine as she heard her name.

"Marinette! Marinette! There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you. Why'd you leave so early?"

Adrien.

How did he know it was her? He shouldn't know. How did he know? He. Shouldn't. Know.  She didn't show anyone else her gown or her mask. She was wearing Green’s coat! How in God’s name did he know it was her?!

Marinette turned around slowly, pulling Green’s coat closed as her heart darted underneath it. She took several deep breaths before turning to look at the blond boy coming up from behind her. He was wearing a mask similar to Green’s. It was a cat-like mask, but in black. The threading on it made a more geometric pattern and was made with silver threading. His green eyes swept over her body, narrowing once he spotted the coat. His expression at first had been friendly, but it quickly turned into something more sour.

Adrien was followed by the majority of their class. Some of them looked confused, as if they didn’t know she was here, while others looked at her with disdain and scorn. Alya, still recognizable even with her cheap looking orange mask, was the next person to come up to her.

“Funny, I thought we left your worthless ass back at the hotel,” Alya hissed. “You shouldn’t have come, Marinette. You’re just going to ruin this for everyone.”

Marinette’s eyes drifted up and down Alya’s form, taking in the cheap taffeta dress she was wearing.  It was a formless dress that really didn’t do her any favors, in Marinette’ opinion, that was a shade of orange. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, and she was wearing orange flats.

“Funny, I thought your outfit would have ruined the night,” she said calmly. “It really doesn’t look like it belongs in such a fancy party as this.”

“That’s because you refused to make our dresses! You’ve always made our dresses! Just because you don’t like Lila, doesn’t mean you get to be a bitch about it!” Alya snapped.

Several of the other girls nodded, glaring at her. Now that Marinette could see her classmates, it appeared as if they’d all bought their dresses from the same store. They were all wearing cheap-looking taffeta dresses in different colors with matching flats. Their masks were all rather plain looking, clearly made at the last minute. Marinette almost burst out laughing at how terrible they all looked.

The boys faired only slightly better. Their suits were cheap-looking, but not as terrible as the dresses. They had ties and masks that matched their dates (if they had one), but at least all their shoes were black. They looked uncomfortable with everything, not even really looking at Marinette.

The only one that looked fine was Chloe, who wore a beautiful mermaid style dress that was a pastel yellow. She had her blonde hair down for once and was wearing a diamond necklace and bracelet. Her mask was a pale gold color with the gold becoming darker above her eyes. It was edged with intricate black lace. Clearly her father had given her the outfit (or she’d bought it with his money).

Lila looked downright livid upon seeing Marinette. She was wearing the same thing as Alya, just in a darker shade of orange. She tried to grab Adrien’s arm, but he pulled away from her. Her sickly green eyes glared daggers at Marinette as Adrien walked up to her.

“Marinette...who’s this?” he asked, his expression sour. “It’s not safe to hang around strangers. You should come be with your friends. I even wanted to ask you if you’d like to dance. There’s something I wanted to ask you.”

“This is my friend,” Marinette said flatly. “We were having a good time talking before you showed up. I do not want to dance.”

“As if! You’re just saying that!” Alya sneered. “You’ve been in love with Adrien for years. Tell him Marinette! Tell him how you’re the one who made him all those gifts, like the scarf he thought was from his dad! How it was always you who wanted him to go to stuff. How you were always trying to get together with him!”

Adrien looked shocked as he glanced at Marinette. She had made him that scarf? She was the one who was always trying to arrange things so he could go? She was the one remembering all these important dates? Had Marinette always done things like this, or had he been special? Did she really love him? Did he really have a chance-?

“Not anymore. I used to have a crush on Adrien. It’s true I did a lot for Adrien to get him to notice me. Then I realized that Adrien wasn’t worth it. He was never worth it.”

Marinette had a steely expression as she spoke, holding her head high.

“Lila’s a liar, and Adrien’s been hiding the truth from you. Adrien knows that she lies about things, but he told me not to rock the boat. He told me to ignore Lila in hopes that she’d just go away. When you all told me I was a terrible person, a bully, a freak...when you told me I should...I should just disappear, Adrien did nothing. True friends don’t stand by when their friends need them,” she sighed before holding her hand up to Adrien. “And don’t try to apologize. I won’t accept it. You can have fun with Lila. You two deserve each other.”

Marinette turned back towards Green, not noticing the darkening expression on Adrien’s face.

The boy couldn’t understand why she’d say such terrible things. Why wouldn’t Marinette let him apologize? He wanted to apologize! Adrien felt terrible that Marinette felt so neglected. If she’d just give him a chance, then he could prove himself! He could prove that he could be a good friend to Marinette. He just needed to touch her heart! Surely if he touched her heart, then Marinette would see that they were meant to be together in some way!

Adrien shook off Lila again, grabbing Marinette by the arm.

“Show me your heart!” Adrien demanded, his grip tight despite the coat adding extra cushion. “Show it to me, and I’ll prove to you that we’re meant to be at least friends! I can’t lose you, and Ladybug! Ladybug will never love me, but Marinette could, and I demand to have a chance!”

“No. Let me go!” she hissed. “Let go of my arm, Adrien!”

“Let her go!” Lila pretended to sob. “Adrien, she’s not worth it! Can’t you see that she was just a whore playing with your affections? Please, Adrien! I love you too much to let you go through with this!”

“Yeah, she’s nothing!” Alya joined in. “C’mon, Adrien. It’s almost midnight! That’s when all the masks come off, and Jagged Stone will be unveiling his new designer!”

“Don’t you want to see Jagged’s designer?” Lila said, still pretending to cry. “I worked so hard to help them get there! I need to go see Jagged unveil my creation to the world! Besides, that designer is one of my best friends! I promised I would be there to show my support!”

Adrien just gripped Marinette’s arm harder, causing the black haired girl to let out a whine of pain. Marinette tried freeing herself from his grasp, smacking his arm, and trying to pry his hand off of her. Adrien responded by gripping harder and began to shake her. As Marinette struggled to free herself, Adrien began shouting at her that she needed to let him apologize so they could start over.

When Marinette refused, Adrien swept his leg under hers, causing her to fall to the floor.

They were now drawing attention from the other party-goers, some who rushed to get security and others who watched the whole thing go down.

Adrien tried to get a hold on Marinette again, but got frustrated with her struggling and grabbed her by the hair, ripping her bun out. Marinette struggled to her feet before punching him in the gut. Adrien lashed out, catching Marinette across her right cheek with a loud thud.

Before any of the French teenagers could blink, Adrien was on the floor, his nose profusely bleeding. —————————————————————————————— The punch was the last straw.

Damian didn’t even hesitate before punching the annoying blond in the face, most likely breaking his nose. He had a bad feeling this was who had hurt his soulmate so deeply that she was afraid of Damian’s reaction to her saying she wasn’t in love with him. This pathetic boy had demanded his chance from his golden heartmate as if it was something he was owed! Not only that, but he had hurt Marinette!

Marinette, Damian thought, such a pretty name that fit such a pretty girl.

He thought he’d been pissed off before when the girl, Marinette had called her Alya, was insulting his golden heartmate. The only reason Damian hadn’t stepped in was simply because it appeared like Marinette had had it handled. He didn’t want to fight her battles for her, not when she was clearly able to do so herself. More than likely, Marinette would have just found that insulting as he’d gathered from their talks that she was rather independent.

So, he’d swallowed his rage and allowed her to defend herself. At least until the stupid boy— Adrien— had hit her. Once Adrien was on the floor, he put himself directly in front of Marinette. He glared at the other French teens, daring one of them to try and take him on.

“What the fuck was that for!” Alya screeched. “You broke his nose!”

“He hurt Marinette,” Damian replied, hearing Marinette gasp in shock.

She had probably thought Damian couldn’t understand French One look at her class told him that the others were of a similar mind. They looked at him with shock and fear. Adrien was the only one who didn’t look shocked, just pissed off. The blond got to his feet before snarling, “Who the fuck do you think you are!? Why are you getting in between me and my princess?!”

“Because you brain dead imbecile, Marinette doesn’t belong to you! She doesn’t belong to anyone! Marinette is her own person, and if she doesn’t want to hear your sorry apology, then she doesn’t need to hear it! She doesn’t need to do shit for you!” Damian snarled. “You put your hands on her. You assaulted her. You hurt her. I simply thought it was time for me to step in.”

“So you stepped in after I hit her?” Adrien questioned.

“I stepped in after it was clear that the situation was no longer under control,” Damian responded. “Marinette was handling herself just fine until you hit her. She’s not weak, and she’s most certainly not defenseless. I did not believe she wished for me to fight her battles, so I didn’t.”

Damian could hear security approaching as well as a woman shouting something in French. The red haired woman rushed over to Adrien and began looking over him. She also tried to get the others under control, as they’d all started screaming and yelling at one another. Damian responded to security by yanking his mask off, revealing who he was.

“The blond in the black cat mask with the bloody nose assaulted the young lady behind me,” he said curtly. “I’d like him removed from the gala, and I need to find my father. He’ll be barred from any future Wayne Galas as well.”

“You can’t do that!” Adrien hissed.

“I can,” Damian responded, turning to look at Marinette.

Marinette was shaking again, all the previous courage she had gone. Her mask was off now, having been knocked off during the struggle. Her blue eyes were wide, framed by beautiful black lashes. She had a cute button nose that was splashed with now visible freckles. Her right cheek was already bruising, and her hair was a mess.

Damian knelt down and gently picked up her gold hair sticks from the floor. He held them out to her slowly, not wanting to frighten her, as he stood back up.

“Marinette, do you need my help?” he asked gently.

He waited for the dark haired girl to decide patiently. He knew she probably wasn’t okay, but he also wasn’t sure if she’d want him to touch her. She’d just been assaulted, so perhaps he should find a woman that could be trusted to help Marinette fix herself up. He was relieved when Marinette took the golden sticks from his hands. He was even more relieved when she moved closer to him.

Marinette rested her left cheek on his right shoulder, trying to hide her face in his shoulder. Damian could hear her start to sniffle and wrapped his arms around her. He gently rubbed her back, allowing her to cry while shielding her face. Marinette shook in his arms, and he felt the rage come back...until he felt Marinette’s heart began to nuzzle against his neck and her face, searching for comfort. The rage faded, and Damian focused his thoughts on making sure Adrien couldn’t touch Marinette again.

Damian spotted his father walking towards him, followed by Dick, Kor’i, Wally, and two other people he hadn’t met yet. They were talking with the security guards, and Damian would bet that Tim was probably going over the security footage. His father walked up to him with a serious expression.

“Damian, could you please explain why you punched one of the students from the visiting French class?” he asked sternly.

“He assaulted his classmate,” he said. “He grabbed her and tried to get her to come with him. When she refused, he swept her legs out from under her. He tried to get a grip on her, but got mad and pulled her hair. She got up and punched him in the stomach so he’d let go. Then he punched her, and that’s when I punched him. Show him your face, Marinette.”

Damian gently touched Marinette’s head. She lifted her head up to look at him, and he watched his father’s expression darken. Bruce may have been mad at Damian for possibly starting an international incident, but he knew that his father wouldn’t hold it against him for defending someone else. He noted that several bystanders had come up to defend him, telling Bruce what had transpired before security arrived.

A strange man with black and purple hair rushed over to him, followed by a pink haired woman. Both looked horrified and concerned. The woman actually pulled Marinette from Damian’s hold, but seeing how Marinette immediately latched onto her, he swallowed his displeasure. The woman held Marinette tightly, rocking a little, as she asked what had happened and if Marinette was going to be alright.

Dick chose this time to come in, tapping the man with the purple and black hair on the shoulder.

“Jagged Stone, this is my youngest brother and Bruce’s only biological child, Damian Wayne. Damian, this is Jared “Jagged” Stone. He’s Bruce’s old friend. The woman with the pink hair is his wife, Penny Stone,” Dick said.

“While it’s nice to meet you, Damian, I want to know what the hell happened to Marinette!” Jagged said, glaring at Damian. “We got separated by the paparazzi when we arrived and weren’t able to find her since!”

“She was with me, though I didn’t know who she was,” Damian responded honestly. “I saw her getting harassed by the reporters and stepped in. We’ve spent the last few hours talking to one another until that Adrien boy found us. He tried getting Marinette to come with him, and he didn’t seem too pleased that I was here. He hurt her when she refused to go with him, so I punched him.”

“What?! That little bastard punched my niece! Where is he? I’ll take his damn head off!” Jagged growled, surprising both Dick and Damian with the ferocity behind it. “Penny, watch after our little star! I’ve got a boy to skin.”

“Follow Father. He’ll be the only one with the bloody nose,” Damian supplied helpfully.

Jagged stalked off with Dick behind him as Kor’i and Wally stepped up to the group. Kor’i immediately went to the other two women and asked if Marinette would like to clean up in the bathroom. Penny had looked towards Marinette, and the dark haired girl simply nodded. Kor’i led the way towards the ladies room while Wally stood beside Damian.

“Well this is a mess,” Wally tried to joke.

Damian nodded sullenly. Instead of continuing to try and talk to the boy, Wally settled for watching Bruce and Jagged rip into the boy, his teacher, and the class for trying to defend his actions. Damian felt his anger reach the boiling point when her classmates called her a liar and a bully. He also felt angry when the teacher tried to excuse it away as “teenager stuff”. He almost laughed out loud when Bruce responded that he had raised four teenage boys and that none of them would have thought this was acceptable behavior. Her teacher had almost wilted at that.

But nothing was quite as sweet as when Jagged brought the liar to her knees in front of the class that revered her.

“I can’t believe you people! You’re standing here trying to tell me that my favorite little designer, my little niece is a bully and a liar?! Not rock’n’roll at all! Marinette is the sweetest, most creative little star I’ve ever met. She gets my jagged style, and she’s an extremely hard worker. Marinette didn’t get to be my designer based on lies. She got to be my designer based on her own hard work and skills,” Jagged snapped at the class. “Besides, no one deserves to be assaulted!”

“That’s not true! Lila was the one who set Marinette up with you. If it hadn’t been for Lila, she wouldn’t be your designer at all,” Alya argued. “She was just being an ungrateful bitch!”

“...but Marinette doesn’t like Lila...and Lila said the designer was one of her best friends,” a red haired boy quietly pointed out. “How could Lila have done what she said if Jagged’s telling us that Marinette is his designer?”

“Marinette is my designer! And who is this Lila? Why is she telling lies about my little star?” Jagged demanded to know.

“But Lila saved your kitten! Remember? It was on the runway of the airport! You wrote a song about her too! It’s all over my blog!” Alya asked desperately, not wanting to believe Lila had been lying to her this whole time.

“One, I’ve never owned a cat. Fang’s been my only pet for twenty years. Two, I would never write a song about an underage girl. Three, the only girl I’ve ever written a song for is the superhero known as Ladybug. These are all things any competent reporter would know,” Jagged said.

Damian watched as Alya turned on the brunette with sausage hair and terrible dark orange ensemble. Alya started screaming at her, demanding to know if she was lying about everything else as well. This got Marinette’s whole class involved, as well as Jagged. The class was torn between yelling at Lila and being horrified to find out she was lying. Jagged was busy yelling about how Lila would be hearing from his lawyers for defamation of character.

The Lila girl began crying again, and Damian turned away from them. His instead chose to scan the crowd, waiting for Marinette to return. ————————————————————————————— Marinette was in shock to say the least.

She had expected Adrien to be angry with her. She had expected him to argue with her. She hadn’t been expecting Adrien to put his hands on her though. She honestly never thought that he would hit her like he did. She was frightened to know now that Adrien was not above using force to get what he wanted.

Penny had been fussing over her for since the agent got her hands on Marinette. The beautiful red-headed woman, who led them to the bathroom, stood silently next to the door. She had introduced herself as Kor’i Grayson, wife of Richard and Wally Grayson, and daughter-in-law of Bruce Wayne. She offered to stand guard by the door and ensure that no one else came in while Penny was helping Marinette clean up.

“Marinette, sweetheart, what happened?” Penny asked, gently wiping away the tears from Marinette’s eyes.

“The press...they surrounded me and started asking all these questions. I didn’t even notice you and Uncle Jagged were gone until I looked around. They kept pressing me for answers until Green— I mean Damian— stepped in. He gave me his coat because I was cold and led me inside. He offered to keep me company until I was able to find you and Uncle Jagged,” Marinette began.

“Green?” Kor’i asked with amusement.

“His mask was green. He called me Red first, and then said he wanted to talk to me without names and expectations. He was really nice to me, Penny. I was so scared, but he was nice about it. I didn’t even realize how close to midnight it was, I was having so much fun with him. We were eating when Adrien found us...I don’t know how he knew it was me, Penny. I didn’t  show anyone my dress or my mask, so he shouldn’t have known it was me—”

“Breathe, Marinette. It’s okay. He won’t put another hand on you, I swear it!” Penny said, gently rubbing Marinette’s arm.

Marinette took a few deep breaths before continuing.

“Adrien wanted me to go with him. I think he wanted to apologize to me and ask me on a date,” she said, her voice cracking. “I told him no. I didn’t want to hear his apology, and I’m no longer in love with him. He didn’t like that answer. He grabbed my arm. I fought him. He swept my feet out from under me and grabbed my hair. I managed to get up and punched him in the stomach so he’d let go. That was when he punched me...and then Damian punched him back harder.”

Marinette took a few more deep breaths.

“I thought I had it under control. I thought I could handle him without help. Even when he knocked me over...I wasn’t expecting him to punch me. I’m glad Damian punched him...if Adrien had tried to hit me again, I don’t know if I would have been able to fight him off…”

What she didn’t want to admit was that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to shake off the shock quick enough. Marinette knew that she could fight Adrien. She was Ladybug after all, and Adrien hadn’t been akumatized. That was also the other thing she couldn’t admit— being Ladybug. She could have passed it off as self-defense lessons, but Marinette knew it still would have been suspicious.

Marinette chose to tune out Kor’i and Penny as she fixed her hair. She pulled it back into a bun before putting the golden sticks back into her hair. Marinette allowed Penny to fix her makeup, though not much could be done about the bruising on her cheek. At this point, she was just settling for looking like she hadn’t been crying after being assaulted.

Once she was cleaned up, Marinette hugged Penny tightly before asking if they could postpone her reveal. Penny told her that they would of course postpone her reveal. Kor’i promised not to tell anyone that Marinette was Jagged’s designer, but she did congratulate Marinette on her achievement. Marinette had smiled and thanked her in response.

Oddly enough...Marinette wanted to go back to Damian. He had been polite, kind, and absolutely fun to be around all night. He’d reassured her when she was scared. He’d waited for her to come to him after Adrien attacked. He’d held her while she cried until Penny showed up. Marinette didn’t want to label it as love, especially since they were golden heartmates, but she would admit that she wouldn’t mind going on a date with Damian. Perhaps she might follow fate’s lead and fall in love with Damian.

Only time would tell, and Marinette felt safer establishing boundaries with Damian than she did anyone else. He had not tried to push or argue with her about her boundaries. Instead he had respected them without question, something Marinette was immensely grateful for. Thinking about how he’d acted the whole night, Marinette didn’t think falling in love with him would be such a bad thing.

She was smiling as she left the bathroom with Kor’i and Penny. Marinette continued smiling when she noticed Damian looking for her in the crowd. She felt happy when Damian’s face lit up upon seeing her. She hugged him tightly once she was within reach before looking at the chaos that was her class. She raised an eyebrow before Jagged broke in, demanding to know if Marinette knew that the Lila girl was spreading all sorts of nasty lies about them.

“Cat’s out of the bag,” Damian said smugly. “Now they’re all trying to pick up what little dignity they have left.”

Marinette laughed at that, feeling joy in the fact that Lila had finally been revealed. However, she chose to ignore her classmates arguing and pleas for forgiveness to hold out her hand to Damian.

“Let’s try this again. Hi, my name’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she said with a grin. “I had a lot of fun with you, and I would very much like to go on a date so I can get to know my golden heartmate better.”

A wide smile appeared across Damian’s face as he shook her hand.

“Hello, my name is Damian Wayne. I also had a very good time with you and would love to take you on a date,” he responded.

Marinette giggled as his heart darted out to nuzzle her cheek, just barely catching the gasps from the people around her as the heart flashed gold. Her own heart had zipped over to Damian and began nuzzling his cheek as well, also turning gold.

“Would you like to leave now, Marinette?” he asked. “I could have our driver drop you off at your hotel if you’d like. You probably should ice that bruise.”

Marinette looked at both Jagged and Penny to see what they thought. Both of them were smiling at her and nodding, so she turned back towards Damian.

“Thank you, that would be very nice,” she replied.

Damian held out his arm towards her again, and this time, Marinette took it without hesitation. Looking at the handsome, dark haired boy with kind green eyes, she decided there were worse people she could have as her golden heartmate. When he kissed her hand upon dropping her off at the hotel, Marinette made another decision.

She stood on her tiptoes, gently pressing a quick kiss to his lips. Marinette giggled as he flushed, his eyes wide and clearly surprised. Yes, she thought, perhaps having him as a romantic soulmate wouldn’t be the end of the world. Perhaps...perhaps loving him could be the best thing that happened to her.

Little did she know that Damian agreed.

[leahmovedagain]

Apparently HBO has a documentary about the unaired pilot and most of the cast and grrm commented about what was wrong with it and George said that he didn't like the Dany/Drogo bedding scene in episode one because in his books is not rape because Dany consented the act. I mean is he aware she's a 13 old girl with grow man???

Yeah I’d like to beat him with a stick for saying it was consensual. Just because she was flushed and her heart was pounding (aka her body responding to his touches), she didn’t want to marry him or consummate the marriage at all.

What’s confusing for me is that grrm makes it very very clear in Daenerys first two chapters that 1) she’s terrified of drogo 2) doesn’t want to marry him and 3) that this is not a simple betrothal, but she’s being sold to her new husband.

Dany could hear the singing of the red priests as they lit their night fires and the shouts of ragged children playing games beyond the walls of the estate. For a moment she wished she could be out there with them, barefoot and breathless and dressed in tatters, with no past and no future and no feast to attend at Khal Drogo’s manse.

[...]

The old woman washed her long, silver-pale hair and gently combed out the snags, all in silence. The girl scrubbed her back and her feet and told her how lucky she was. “Drogo is so rich that even his slaves wear golden collars. A hundred thousand men ride in his khalasar, and his palace in Vaes Dothrak has two hundred rooms and doors of solid silver.” There was more like that, so much more, what a handsome man the khal was, so tall and fierce, fearless in battle, the best rider ever to mount a horse, a demon archer. Daenerys said nothing. She had always assumed that she would wed Viserys when she came of age. For centuries the Targaryens had married brother to sister, since Aegon the Conqueror had taken his sisters to bride. The line must be kept pure, Viserys had told her a thousand times; theirs was the kingsblood, the golden blood of old Valyria, the blood of the dragon. Dragons did not mate with the beasts of the field, and Targaryens did not mingle their blood with that of lesser men. Yet now Viserys schemed to sell her to a stranger, a barbarian.

When she was clean, the slaves helped her from the water and toweled her dry. The girl brushed her hair until it shone like molten silver, while the old woman anointed her with the spiceflower perfume of the Dothraki plains, a dab on each wrist, behind her ears, on the tips of her breasts, and one last one, cool on her lips, down there between her legs. They dressed her in the wisps that Magister Illyrio had sent up, and then the gown, a deep plum silk to bring out the violet in her eyes. The girl slid the gilded sandals onto her feet, while the old woman fixed the tiara in her hair, and slid golden bracelets crusted with amethysts around her wrists. Last of all came the collar, a heavy golden torc emblazoned with ancient Valyrian glyphs.

“Now you look all a princess,” the girl said breathlessly when they were done. Dany glanced at her image in the silvered looking glass that Illyrio had so thoughtfully provided. A princess, she thought, but she remembered what the girl had said, how Khal Drogo was so rich even his slaves wore golden collars. She felt a sudden chill, and gooseflesh pimpled her bare arms.

[...]

“She’s too skinny,” Viserys said. His hair, the same silver-blond as hers, had been pulled back tightly behind his head and fastened with a dragonbone brooch. It was a severe look that emphasized the hard, gaunt lines of his face. He rested his hand on the hilt of the sword that Illyrio had lent him, and said, “Are you sure that Khal Drogo likes his women this young?”

“She has had her blood. She is old enough for the khal,” Illyrio told him, not for the first time. “Look at her. That silver-gold hair, those purple eyes … she is the blood of old Valyria, no doubt, no doubt … and highborn, daughter of the old king, sister to the new, she cannot fail to entrance our Drogo.” When he released her hand, Daenerys found herself trembling.

[...]

She was still looking at this strange man from the homeland she had never known when Magister Illyrio placed a moist hand on her bare shoulder. “Over there, sweet princess,” he whispered, “there is the khal himself.”

Dany wanted to run and hide, but her brother was looking at her, and if she displeased him she knew she would wake the dragon. Anxiously, she turned and looked at the man Viserys hoped would ask to wed her before the night was done.

[...]

Dany looked at Khal Drogo. His face was hard and cruel, his eyes as cold and dark as onyx. Her brother hurt her sometimes, when she woke the dragon, but he did not frighten her the way this man frightened her. “I don’t want to be his queen,” she heard herself say in a small, thin voice. “Please, please, Viserys, I don’t want to, I want to go home.”

“Home!” He kept his voice low, but she could hear the fury in his tone. “How are we to go home, sweet sister? They took our home from us!” He drew her into the shadows, out of sight, his fingers digging into her skin. “How are we to go home?” he repeated, meaning King’s Landing, and Dragonstone, and all the realm they had lost.

Dany had only meant their rooms in Illyrio’s estate, no true home surely, though all they had, but her brother did not want to hear that. There was no home there for him. Even the big house with the red door had not been home for him. His fingers dug hard into her arm, demanding an answer. “I don’t know …” she said at last, her voice breaking. Tears welled in her eyes.

“I do,” he said sharply. “We go home with an army, sweet sister. With Khal Drogo’s army, that is how we go home. And if you must wed him and bed him for that, you will.” He smiled at her. “I’d let his whole khalasar fuck you if need be, sweet sister, all forty thousand men, and their horses too if that was what it took to get my army. Be grateful it is only Drogo. In time you may even learn to like him. Now dry your eyes. Illyrio is bringing him over, and he will not see you crying.”

Dany turned and saw that it was true. Magister Illyrio, all smiles and bows, was escorting Khal Drogo over to where they stood. She brushed away unfallen tears with the back of her hand.

“Smile,” Viserys whispered nervously, his hand falling to the hilt of his sword. “And stand up straight. Let him see that you have breasts. Gods know, you have little enough as is.”

Daenerys smiled, and stood up straight.

[...]

Daenerys Targaryen wed Khal Drogo with fear and barbaric splendor in a field beyond the walls of Pentos, for the Dothraki believed that all things of importance in a man’s life must be done beneath the open sky.

[...]

Yet that night she dreamt of one. Viserys was hitting her, hurting her. She was naked, clumsy with fear. She ran from him, but her body seemed thick and ungainly. He struck her again. She stumbled and fell. “You woke the dragon,” he screamed as he kicked her. “You woke the dragon, you woke the dragon.” Her thighs were slick with blood. She closed her eyes and whimpered. As if in answer, there was a hideous ripping sound and the crackling of some great fire. When she looked again, Viserys was gone, great columns of flame rose all around, and in the midst of them was the dragon. It turned its great head slowly. When its molten eyes found hers, she woke, shaking and covered with a fine sheen of sweat. She had never been so afraid……until the day of her wedding came at last.

[...]

Dany had never felt so alone as she did seated in the midst of that vast horde. Her brother had told her to smile, and so she smiled until her face ached and the tears came unbidden to her eyes. She did her best to hide them, knowing how angry Viserys would be if he saw her crying, terrified of how Khal Drogo might react. Food was brought to her, steaming joints of meat and thick black sausages and Dothraki blood pies, and later fruits and sweetgrass stews and delicate pastries from the kitchens of Pentos, but she waved it all away. Her stomach was a roil, and she knew she could keep none of it down.

There was no one to talk to. Khal Drogo shouted commands and jests down to his bloodriders, and laughed at their replies, but he scarcely glanced at Dany beside him. They had no common language. Dothraki was incomprehensible to her, and the khal knew only a few words of the bastard Valyrian of the Free Cities, and none at all of the Common Tongue of the Seven Kingdoms. She would even have welcomed the conversation of Illyrio and her brother, but they were too far below to hear her.

So she sat in her wedding silks, nursing a cup of honeyed wine, afraid to eat, talking silently to herself. I am blood of the dragon, she told herself. I am Daenerys Stormborn, Princess of Dragonstone, of the blood and seed of Aegon the Conqueror.

[...]

As the hours passed, the terror grew in Dany, until it was all she could do not to scream. She was afraid of the Dothraki, whose ways seemed alien and monstrous, as if they were beasts in human skins and not true men at all. She was afraid of her brother, of what he might do if she failed him. Most of all, she was afraid of what would happen tonight under the stars, when her brother gave her up to the hulking giant who sat drinking beside her with a face as still and cruel as a bronze mask. I am the blood of the dragon, she told herself again.

[...]

And after the gifts, she knew, after the sun had gone down, it would be time for the first ride and the consummation of her marriage. Dany tried to put the thought aside, but it would not leave her. She hugged herself to try to keep from shaking.

[...]

The last sliver of sun vanished behind the high walls of Pentos to the west just then. Dany had lost all track of time. Khal Drogo commanded his bloodriders to bring forth his own horse, a lean red stallion. As the khal was saddling the horse, Viserys slid close to Dany on her silver, dug his fingers into her leg, and said, “Please him, sweet sister, or I swear, you will see the dragon wake as it has never woken before.”

The fear came back to her then, with her brother’s words. She felt like a child once more, only thirteen and all alone, not ready for what was about to happen to her.

They rode out together as the stars came out, leaving the khalasar and the grass palaces behind. Khal Drogo spoke no word to her, but drove his stallion at a hard trot through the gathering dusk. The tiny silver bells in his long braid rang softly as he rode. “I am the blood of the dragon,” she whispered aloud as she followed, trying to keep her courage up. “I am the blood of the dragon. I am the blood of the dragon.” The dragon was never afraid.

Afterward she could not say how far or how long they had ridden, but it was full dark when they stopped at a grassy place beside a small stream. Drogo swung off his horse and lifted her down from hers. She felt as fragile as glass in his hands, her limbs as weak as water. She stood there helpless and trembling in her wedding silks while he secured the horses, and when he turned to look at her, she began to cry.

[...]

He removed her silks one by one, carefully, while Dany sat unmoving, silent, looking at his eyes. When he bared her small breasts, she could not help herself. She averted her eyes and covered herself with her hands. “No,” Drogo said. He pulled her hands away from her breasts, gently but firmly, then lifted her face again to make her look at him. “No,” he repeated.

It’s just gross and confusing to me. I don’t understand why if he wanted to make it come off as consensual, why did he write her to be absolutely terrified of drogo, have her tremble and cry, make it clear she’s a glorified slave for him, make it clear she doesn’t want to consummate the marriage, to just then turn around and say “Well it was consensual.”

Does he know that just because a persons body responds physically doesn’t mean they’re consenting to a sexual act? Does he know that a child cannot consent to a sexual act? It’s concerning and confusing for me.

[maxwell-grant]

Downfall of a Dark Avenger Part 2: Shadows of Manhattan

Having finished reading Al Ewing’s El Sombra trilogy and having had enough time to digest it, I’d like to talk about the trajectory of it’s titular protagonist, the character and series’s relationship with it’s influences. Relating to The Shadow and Zorro and general pulp archetypes, and also the way it incorporates Astro Boy’s Pluto into the mix.

This part is focused on Gods of Manhattan and El Sombra’s first appearences in Pax Omega and the ways in which the urban vigilante manifests itself in the books. 

In Gods of Manhattan, El Sombra takes a backseat to it’s central players, Doc Thunder and The Blood-Spider. I’ve mentioned how Thunder, while ostensibly a Doc Savage/Superman amalgam, also combines aspects that allow the character to condense the entire history of the superman into a single being, but to a character very much centered on the future and in progressive ideals, described in the book as someone considered both the city’s ultimate savior as well as viewed as "a faggot, a liberal and a miscegenationist”. In that regard, the Blood-Spider becomes his opposite. Perhaps the most comprehensive savaging of the dark detective/The Shadow ever put on paper, that has a larger point behind the questions and criticisms it brings up to what this kind of figure can be. 

"You can hardly have a war on crime unless you are the one defining what a crime is. First rule of the war on crime: everyone is guilty or something"

Us am vigilantes! Am us not men? Us use violence to effect social change! Am us not men? Us bring terror to underclass, make streets safer for overclass! Am us not men? Am us not men?

Making them loved rather than feared. Having them fight crime, or the right kind of crime, at least. Created a persona designed to appeal to the worst in people, to bring the citizens of New York around to his cause, his war on crime, which would, of course, then become a war against ‘urban crime’. Or some other little euphemism. ‘Inhuman’, for example. Sounds a lot more relatable than subhuman, doesn’t it? Comes to the same thing, though.

Although The Blood-Spider is an evil take on The Shadow, most of his character traits are taken from characters that followed him. He’s got the moniker, savagery, fright tactics and branded murders of The Spider, he climbs buildings and has a civilian identity akin to Spider-Man’s, with constant name references to characters like Stacey, Jonah and a redhead named Mary Watson, with him sharing a name with Peter Parker as well as Batman villain Jonathan Crane, he’s got Rorschach monologues that are echoed by his associates past his demise in white supremacist organizations dedicated to carrying off Spider’s legacy, predating HBO Watchmen’s take on Rorschach legacy. If Doc Thunder is all about taking the superhero’s past to create a better future with it, Blood-Spider takes the future of the urban vigilante and uses it as a conduit to enact a barbaric and reactionary agenda in service of undoing everything Thunder stands for, even before he’s revealed to be a Nazi agent. 

Blood-Spider is what happens when the absolute worst aspects of said characters are brought to the forefront and twisted by a dose of reality. He’s to The Shadow what Plutonian is to Superman, the most sour way said character and legend can be twisted into something horrendous. He’s the Doutrinador in a fedora, everything I vehemently argue that The Shadow wasn’t, and yet seems sadly ever closer to as more and more comics dehumanize the character. He’s Howard Chaykin’s Shadow, naked and raw and exposed for what it ultimately is. An insult and a wake-up call, if a necessary one.

In fact, said poisoning of a legend is explicitly a plot point in the book, because the book establishes that, before The Blood-Spider, the city’s main vigilante used to be a man by the name of Blue Ghost, friend of Doc Thunder and, although a mysterious public figure, still firmly on the side of good. Unfortunately, moral victories aside, “good” alone doesn’t cut it in the world of El Sombra. 

You took a look at the Blue Ghost - mysterious masked avenger, operatives all over the place, big fan-following with the working classes, and you figured...we need one of those. Just take away the Japanese orphan kid and replace him with a foxy Aryan chick.

Blue Ghost is almost a textbook Spirit analogue, even defined as being beat up a lot as his main asset, except here, he’s placed as Doc’s counterpart that died before the story began and is now replaced by a darker and more horrendous counterpart, and because The Spirit was influenced by The Shadow, it opens a roundabout connection. You can read this as a comparison between the shift from Adam West’s Batman to Frank Miller’s Batman, or a comparison between The Shadow and earlier more straightforward pulp vigilantes like Jimmie Dale, or a comparison between the pulp/radio Shadow and later iterations of him or analogues to his archetype that upped the nastier aspects. Again, nothing in El Sombra is ever quite just one thing. 

And at last we come to El Sombra, who spends much of the book caught in between the duels of Doc, Untergang and players in between. And it’s interesting that here, while El Sombra’s final victories over the story’s major conflict lie in his willingness to team up with Doc, despite knowing of his origins as a Nazi weapon, his victories over Blood-Spider instead come from turning tricks of The Shadow against him. First, when he discovers Spider’s true nature, spying on him by pulling a Fritz the Janitor. And then in the finale, when he schools Spider on what a real shadowy avenger looks like. 

"Amigo...that's my sword"

The voice came from the darkness above them, where the gaslight did not reach. The Spider's blood ran cold for a long moment, and then he grabbed hold of his other gun, tearing it from its holster and raising it to fire a volley of bullets into the darkness. "Where are you? Show yourself!" he hissed, turning in place, the gun raised to fire at the slightest sound or movement.

"You're not the only one who can hide in the shadows, my friend. I've got very good at it, over the years."

"Show yourself!" Another volley of shots, with no result. Was he throwing his voice? Was he everywhere at once? Was he a shadow himself? A ghost?

The voice echoed from another place now, continuing his speech exactly where he had left off. And still that mocking voice echoed from the shadows above.

"See, I didn't know if you were a good guy or a bad guy. I mean, sure, you killed people, and you were kind of a dick about it, you know? But I didn't know if you were one of the bastards. I didn't know if you needed to die or not, amigo."

The gun clicked empty. He was out of bullets. He turned again, and there was the man in the red mask. Just standing there, in the middle of the concourse. His smile didn't look human. And his eyes. Oh, his terrible eyes...

"Stay back." The Spider whispered, and his voice sounded in his ears like a frightened, animal thing, waiting to curl up and die in its hole.

The man in the red mask only laughed. A rich, deep, joyous laugh, a laugh that echoed and filled the whole station, bouncing from pillar to pillar, careening through the great vaulted arches. Such a laugh!

Then the laughter stopped, and he fixed the Blood-Spider with a look that would freeze the fires of Hell.

And suddenly - quite suddenly - there was no Blood-Spider. There was only Parker Crane, the Nazi. Parker Crane, the traitor. Who thought he could destroy America, and only managed to destroy himself. Parker Crane. Just a man wearing a mask. He ran, and left the sword behind him.

"Nice trick," Doc murmured, turning to the masked man. "Throwing your sword from up on the balcony - good aim, by the way - then throwing your voice and a little mental suggestion to make him think you were up in the arches where he'd been. Where did you learn that?"

The masked man shrugged, lifting up his weapon. "In the desert. You can learn a lot in the desert, if you put your mind to it."

By the story’s end, once Lars Lomax, Thunder’s arch-enemy and Lex Luthor, takes center stage as it’s ultimate threat, Parker Crane is left a traumatized, broken shell unable to even move, utterly stripped of any mystique or power that his mask and guns may have brought him. And in the end, El Sombra finds him, neutralized and no longer a threat to anyone. And he makes his choice.

El Sombra knew what it was to hate, to hate so hard and so long that you knew nothing else, to hate so strongly that it crossed that line into something beyond reason.

He lifted his sword, resting the blade in his palm for a moment, considering. Crane only stared, weeping and making his soft, mad noises. El Sombra sighed, shaking his head. "You know, I don't know if I can kill a guy who's already dead. Even if he is one of the bastards."

"Don't let him in here." Murmured Crane, his eyes wide.

"Shhh, I won't let him in," smiled El Sombra in response, trying to be reassuring. "You'll never have to face him again. I promise. It's okay, amigo. It's okay."

It was strange. He knew he should feel hate for Parker Crane. It was Djego's job to bear things like pity and doubt, to feel sorrow and shame. That was Djego's role in their team of one. El Sombra was there to take never-ending revenge and to laugh and to never look back. But to know that his murder of Heinrich Donner - his righteous kill - had resulted in so much harm coming to so many... and now to see the leader of Undergang, the man he'd come to New York to kill, just an empty, broken madman, a shell of a person... El Sombra wondered if he was changing.

"Don't," whispered Crane, a tear rolling down his cheek. "Don't let him back in."

El Sombra smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, amigo. I'm going to go and make sure nobody ever needs to see him again. And I couldn't have done it without you." He squeezed lightly. "You didn't mean to, but you did some good. Remember that."

Then, gently, he pushed the tip of the sword through the front of Crane's skull and into his brain.

He was not incapable of pity. But he was who he was, and he did what he did.

And broken or not, the bastards had to die.

We’ve seen El Sombra struggle and be faced with choices, choices between Djego and El Sombra, choices between kindness and violence, between peace and conflict. We’ve seen the conflict in his soul between things that he knows are right, because Djego is a good man with a good soul who wants good things for himself and others, and things he knows he must do, because he is El Sombra and El Sombra was created to kill the bastards that brought his world to ruin and therefore it’s what he must always do. And in the end, El Sombra is simply stronger. He has to be. But strength and violence and hatred can only get one so far. 

Gods of Manhattan is the trilogy’s moral compass, the book that most clearly defines the morality the series operates on. And in between the spectrums of justice embodied by Doc and Crane’s approach, between the two urban avengers in The Blue Ghost and Blood-Spider, El Sombra made his choice. And it’s the first choice that dooms him.

Enter Pax Omega, and we learn that, 4 years since the previous book's events, El Sombra joined a squad of agents called Yankee Bravo Seven, who work for an organization named STEAM, who enact missions against Nazis to turn the tides of war. He is joined by several other types of characters, including The Blood Widow, Crane’s former assistant Marlene Lang now having taken up the moniker (just as Nita van Sloan did for The Spider, even with the “Widow” prefix). We see that El Sombra has joined a team of bantering heroes and even formed a friendly rivalry with a man named Savate, modeled after Batroc the Leaper. 

But we see that the hunger for vengeance still burns, still burns beyond reason, restless because it’s been 4 years and the war still isn’t over and Hitler still isn’t dead by his sword. And it’s that restlessness that again dooms him, when he once again makes the wrong choice and betrays leader Jack Scorpio, Scorpio who had personally brought him on board and gave him the best shot he ever had at getting to Hitler. 

El Sombra frowned. "We need to make our move now."

Scorpio shook his head. "Not yet."

"What?" El Sombra looked incredulous.

"Wait for my signal, I said! Damn it, I need you to trust me!" Jack Scorpio reached up to brush the back of his finger across his forehead, and realised he was sweating. 

Through his special glasses, El Sombra's aura was glowing an angry, pulsing red, like a throbbing vein. "Just...trust me. I'm asking you to hold back for just five minutes. There's more going on here than you know."

El Sombra just stared at him, his lips pulling back from his teeth in a cold snarl.

"Trust me. That's all I ask." Jack Scorpio looked into the blazing eyes behind the bloodstained mask, and spoke softly, soothingly, almost desperately. "Can you just hold back for one minute?"

The eyes behind the mask narrowed.

"Can you?"

PERSONNEL FILE: DJEGO "EL SOMBRA". TO EYES ONLY: THIS INDIVIDUAL IS HIGHLY DANGEROUS. IT IS STRONGLY RECOMMENDED HE NOT BE INCLUDED IN ANY OPERATIONS CLASSIFIED ABOVE TOP SECRET OR HIGHER. (I'll take the risk - J.S)

El Sombra spat in Scorpio's face.

"Chinga tu madre."

Then he drew his sword and leaped down into the fray.

After the mission is over, with the base destroyed and a major victory secured, although with Jack Scorpio having been killed, the team disbands. El Sombra continues to wander the forests near the Luftwaffe base for about two weeks, killing as many Nazis as he can, until an explosion blast hits near him, knocking away his mask and portions of his leg and arm, and rendering him unconscious for 8 months. By the time he wakes up, the war has ended, and so has El Sombra for the past 7 years.

Djego was afforded the best of medical care at the hospital in Venice. El Sombra was nowhere to be found.

His mask had been torn off in the explosion, along with some of the meat of his leg and arm. He walked stiffly, now, with a pronounced limp, and his left arm was all but useless, hanging limply at his side. The Wildcat crew had salvaged his sword, but Djego had little interest in using it.

Gradually, he regained his mobility. The back of his head itched constantly, and he suffered from horrendous mood swings, when he would rage against the Fuhrer and the bastards, or weep helplessly, like a child. But gradually, he found his personality stabilising in the gentle, antiseptic atmosphere of the hospital. He found that Djego - so long despised as a weakling, a coward and a fool - was capable of a kind of gentle, melancholic wit that made him popular.

Djego healed and grew, and the itch in the back of his skull began to subside, as El Sombra relinquished his grip.

Djego felt his heart seize in his chest. The cloth was missing a scrap at the end, and there was mud ground into the fabric along with the old bloodstains; but it had two evenly-spaced holes in it, and was unmistakably a mask. It seemed to be looking at him.

He takes up gardening and establishes himself in the city of Brandenberg, he becomes a fixture of the city and a friend of it, he enters a relationship, and El Sombra never appears again.

Until a mysterious stranger named Leonard Lorraine, walks through his door one day, saying he’s got a mission to fulfill, and hands him his mask. And, once again, El Sombra is simply stronger, and he makes the wrong choice again. 

Djego shook his head and tried to step back from it, but his legs wouldn't move.

"No," he whispered. "No. Please"

"I was happy," pleaded Djego. "Doesn't that matter to you?" He picked up the cloth in trembling fingers, looking into the empty eyeholds. "Doesn't that mean anything?"

There was no answer. The patrons of the bierkeller did not even notice anything was happening.

"I was happy," Djego choked, and then, in one spasmodic motion, he pulled the mask onto his face, and secured it tightly, so that the knot once again rested in the back of his head, where it belonged: so tightly that it might never come off again.

El Sombra looked at his hands.

He prodded his belly, amused at the rounded shape of it, and took a couple of steps back from the bar. The limp was gone.

He laughed, very softly, so as not to disturb the patrons.

Djego and Lorraine walk through the desolate streets of Berlin, which in the years since has completely sealed itself from the outside world through an impossibly thick dome, and Djego discovers the city completely bereft of life, with only a few lobotomized robotic citizens aimlessly wandering and chewing on the mountains of corpses in the city, as their Nazi ideology reached it’s inevitable outcome of total annihilation of any and all that the party could find an excuse to slaughter in the name of purity, which eventually included it’s few remaining members. In this world, Hitler has been a brain inside a robotic contraption ever since 1945, and it’s amidst this scenario that El Sombra, while thinking about how his final confrontation with Hitler would play out, eventually finds what’s left of Hitler. 

All around them, there were the sounds of machinery, but the Mecha-Fuhrer was completely silent, utterly motionless. In the centre of its chest rested a tank of toxic green fluid, and on the surface of the fluid, a human brain floated, like the corpse of a goldfish.

It was quite dead.

El Sombra stared at the Fuhrer for a long moment. Eventually, he spoke, and his voice was cracked and raw, and choked with rage. "Is...is this a joke?"

De Lareine smiled his terrible smile. "The Fuhrer's body needed a great deal of maintenance and repair, you know. After two years, one of the processes delivering oxygen to his brain failed...and there was nobody left to repair it. He died, slowly." There would have been some pain, at the end".

El Sombra slammed his fist into the great iron throne on which the massive body sat, shattering his knuckles and tearing the skin from them. He didn't seem to notice. "Some pain," he choked, through gritted teeth."

El Sombra was still staring into the empty, dead eyes of the Fuhrer.

El Sombra again chooses poorly. It’s this moment, above all else, that truly damns him to his fate, as we come to see what is it exactly that a persona created for the purpose of vengeance has, when said vengeance is robbed from it. Like Parker Crane, his persona crumbles completely to expose the petty, ugly little feelings that drove it to such grandstanding antics in the first place, and the allmighty El Sombra is exposed for the all-too human failings that damned him once and for all.

"This isn't right," he said, eventually, in a strangled voice. "How...how can it end like this?"

"Why shouldn't it?" De Lareine shrugged. "Here's a thought. Maybe, despite his twenty-year tantrum and all his dressing up, spoilt little Djego is not the centre of the universe -"

El Sombra turned, face red, tears streaming from his eyes, and charged at De Lareine, slashing his sword. El Sombra crashed down onto the floor, into the soot scattered about, as De Lareine walked around him.

"Did you really believe Adolf Hitler would wait around for your sword? Did you not imagine that it might be better for him to seal himself off in a hole to die, instead of murdering and enslaving continents until you finally got around to him? Did you think you were the hero of your own little story, El Sombra, with your mask and your laugh and your-"

"Shut up!" El Sombra cried out, scrambling to his feet, the sword shaking in his hand, tears and snot running down his face. "He was mine! He was mine to kill!" He lifted the sword, the tip trembling. "Bring him back," he screamed, "do you hear me? Bring him back to life!"

De Lareine had to laugh at that.

And in the end, El Sombra is crushed, spiritually and physically as his spine is shattered by Lareine, who begins to experiment on him as he lays dying, ready to fulfill fate’s greater purpose for El Sombra. Ready to become not just the perfect machine Pasito’s conquerors intended, but a superior design. Ready to abandon his former life, ready to abandon everything that defined him, ready to shed any and all traces of Zorro and Shadow and pulp hero in his system, because the age of pulp heroes and superheroes has passed. 

The metal man emerged from his hole, dragging the corpse of the Fuhrer behind him.

The brain in the metal man's chest would, perhaps, live for thousands of years. He wondered how he would spend the time.

He remembered little of his former life; he had been a man named El Sombra, or perhaps Djego. He had been stupid - he realised that now - but that was something he would never be again.

Apart from that, there was only a succession of faces, the memory of laughter and of a final, awful betrayal that had destroyed him. But there was also the sense that a great and terrible mission had ended at last, and it was time for a new life to begin.

The metal man took a last look back at the great dome of Fortress Berlin. Somewhere in there, the Leopard Man was hunting, freed from his own mission. And in the Fuhrer's old office, the empty, lifeless clay of El Sombra - or was it Djego? - lay, discarded, like a butterfly's cocoon.

The metal man thought on this, as the Fuhrer rusted at his feet and the tanks began to approach from over the hills ahead.

He would need a new name.

It’s now the age of Pluto.

[tarasylnin-lavellan]

Of Freedom and Falling

Tarasyl'nin stood with her brother on the vast cliffs of the Storm coast, her face was drawn and tired. Great black eagles rode the air currents around them their sleek bodies gliding through the turbulent air with ease. Dorian scowled looking down at Tara, "darling you cannot be serious about this, I know that you have been trying to shapeshift for a while now, but this? this is insane even for us." Tara's brow furrowed in frustration "the spirit that I am bound to...it is unbending if it is to ever allow me to change my shape, it must be life or death. I must give it no choice, this is too important I cannot bend on this." Blue light coiled out from her in a clear protest but she gritted her teeth and it receded into her skin. Dorian sighed in resignation he knew the sound of his sisters stubborn pride, she would not stop. “Must you do this in such a dramatic way darling? I mean leaping from a cliff to win a battle of wills is worthy of the imperium.” Tara turned to him laughing softly, her features relaxing for a moment. Dorian marveled at how truly beautiful she was like that, without the strain of her mask, she seemed a whole different person. Her raven hair swirled around her in gusting wind “if I am to fly Isa’ma’lin I want to fly here in the heart of the storms.” Tara turned her eyes to the sky “I need this brother, I need to know that I am still free, that I am still me. I need one thing that this path cannot take from me.” Her eyes reflected the years of restriction, the strain that the responsibility that had been forced on her had created. 

Dorian nodded knowing when he was outplayed, “well then we had best hope that this works, Cullen will kill me too if you dash yourself on the waves and I just watch.” Tara nodded somberly “it will work it has to, I have tried everything else that Lady Morrigan has suggested.” Dorian stepped back and gestured grandly at the edge, “your death or freedom await my lady.” Tara sprinted for the cliff fade stepping to gain speed and launched herself into the air, black curls whipping in the air. Justice bucked in anger and frustration, an old spirit that did not wish to change. Tara had done her duty, she had sealed the breach she had closed every rift, she would not be stopped now. SHIFT she roared in her mind, time slowed as the pair struggled for supremacy. She held on grimly DO IT OR WE BOTH DIE, she could not, would not let this go. She needed the sky she pushed her soul toward the shape of the eagles that soared around her. She demanded that this be her shape, she had asked Morrigan to teach her as a favor for allowing the human to take the well of sorrows. She held her resolve as the pair plummeted toward the crashing waves unbending unbreaking the decision had already been made. She would fly or she would fall, she would be free either way. At last she felt her power change and violet smoke curled around her body the spirit finally accepting the shape that she demanded.

Vast black wings stretched from her and her powerful talons scraped the waves water spraying away from her. She beat her wings in the air climbing straight for the clouds. She heard Dorian cheering in joy beneath her, I will allow this one shape the thought rose in Tara’s mind as she soared. Agreed Haren Tara couldn't care less this was the only thing she had ever truly demanded be given to her. The world beneath her was silenced and the quiet of the air surrounded her. She felt peace in her soul for the first time in memory, the peace of solitude, of freedom. She had struggled toward this goal for years, fighting within herself battling the static nature of the spirit that she was irrevocably bonded to. 

But this was her line in the Sand, Tara would not be denied this she would join the sky or die trying. She turned gracefully banking toward the cliffs, she could see Cullen approaching Dorian, creators! her eyes were so keen. "Where is Tara?" Cullen looked around for her, he had decided to accompany them on this particular expedition wishing the break from his duties. Dorian smirked "oh she has a few projects up in the air..." Cullen squinted at him "what are you talking about?" Tara could see her lover looking around for her. A mischievous thought coiled through her, this was going to be fun. She dove down swooping toward Dorian letting out a screech to warn him. 

Dorian nonchalantly held a gauntleted hand out, he had been trained to be a falconer in Tevinter. Cullen saw the massive eagle coming toward them and took a step back in alarm. Tara landed on Dorian's gauntlet a little awkwardly but managed to save it, she ruffled her feathers and looked at Dorian. Cullen looked in shock at the bird "MAKER BREATH!" Cullen watch the bird with alarmed eyes "how did you manage to tame a storm eagle Dorian!" Dorian guffawed turning to Tara with a raised eyebrow "you go for the dense ones don't you?" Tara clicked her beak and annoyance and thumped him with one of her wings. "Ouch you are truly a harpy now" Dorian laughed as the eagle glared at him in a very familiar way.  Cullen's eyes turn to her, he looked closer the the eagle resting on Dorian's arm. The bird's feathers weren't quite right not the true pitch black of a storm eagle, but a black tinged with violet and her eyes they were pale purple? He felt disbelief flood him there was no way... "Tara?”

He felt foolish even saying it sure that this was one of the Tevinter’s jokes. Dorian turned his gaze at Cullen "ah the Templar gets there in the end I suppose." Tara leapt from Dorian's arm shifting back to her original form Violet smoke pooling around her. She was smiling a delighted grin, laughing out loud "you should have seen your face ma vhenan!"  Cullen looked at her in shock he didn't think that she could do any other form of magic! "I thought that you said that the spirit wouldn't let you!" Cullen's words tripped over themselves as he stared at her. She was still grinning when she replied "She didn't at first, I gave her a choice let me shift or die." Dorian rolled his eyes "The lunatic launched herself off a cliff so that the spirit had to change or they would both perish."  Cullen rounded on the younger man "and you just watched it!" Dorian scoffed "do you honestly believe that I could stop her, Tarasyl'nin Lavellan if she truly wished this?"

Tara scowled "I didn't ask anyone's permission to do this, I needed this." Cullen's eyes widening an alarm "Tara love you could have died! How could you-" " I did not die” she cut him off briskly “I have played by the rules for years, I have served those who would revile me. I need to know in my heart that I can get away...." Tears formed in her pale eyes and she looked away. "I have given up everything, my home, my people, my very sense of self... I cannot, I will not, lose my freedom, I will not be caged."  Dorian went to her wrapping her in his arms, glaring accusingly at Cullen. Cullen swallowed heavily, skyhold and never been a prison to him, but he could see how his lover would see it that way. He strode to her side and Dorian backed away "I will leave you two to your discussion" he said briskly and strode away.

 Cullen took her hands in his and breathed out slowly, “forgive me vhenan, you frightened me is all, I couldn't stand to lose you... please...don't do anything like this again.” Tara looked up at him tears in her eyes “I am sorry that I scared you ma’atish but I had run out of options, I couldn’t let this go.” He nodded knowing that she had been fighting for this for years. “Just please be careful my love, I need you, please don't leave me here alone.” Tara rested her head on his chest relaxing against him “I will stay vhenan, for you.”