#will not even acknowledge that she KNOWS she’s good at it

[rustedhearts]

somebody told me (fratboy!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: steve has made it very clear that he doesn’t want you. but he doesn’t want anyone else to have you either.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

i want your things in my room (part one) the library record store

tags: angst, mean!steve, so much tension, yeah the football player is tim riggins in my mind and so what?! i literally wrote this months ago, enjoy <3

"heaven ain't close in a place like this"

— somebody told me, the killers

may 1st, 2009

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

It came hissed in the doorway between the second floor fraternity steps and the sticky wood paneled wall. Steve hovered above you, breath sour with beer and a new bottle dripping condensation through the hand dangling at his side. His eyes were slanted and directed down at your eyes watching him in surprise.

30 seconds ago, he cornered you against the wall after your swift trip to the bathroom. You caught eyes with him across the kitchen nearly an hour ago, and it took all this time of carefully scanning your movements when you weren’t looking for Steve to get you away from the junior you came with.

“What are you talking about?” you laughed. “It’s a party.”

“I didn’t invite you.”

You swallowed, trying not to let your good-natured grin drop. You were well aware that Steve didn’t invite you.

After he practically ran from your bedroom two weeks ago, things went radio silent between you and Steve. You texted, he didn’t answer. You called once, thought about leaving a voicemail, and spent a whole weekend crying when you realized: he didn’t want you. Someone who wants you doesn’t flee your room the way he did that night.

You were perfectly content wallowing in your idiocy for ever thinking Steve Harrington could have a special spot for you in his tiny, shriveled heart—until said junior you were attending tonight’s party with saw you at the dining hall.

You were studying late into the evening, sitting all alone at a table near the fireplace with your books sprawled out and your picked-at dinner in scraps. He came staggering in with a band of other men, all sweaty and half-dressed from practice. He was a linebacker on the football team, and he looked damn good easing into the chair across from you and making it squeak.

His name was Tim and he had a handsome smile, and a slow way of talking in this Texan drawl that had you blushing. For the ten minutes he sat and talked to you and asked you what you were so focused on, you forgot all about Steve.

You texted for a week, grabbed a few lunches and coffees together, and now here you were. At a frat party, invited not by Steve—but Tim.

“I know that,” you told Steve, pulling your arms up to fold them over your chest. Steve’s eyes flashed down to your breasts cupped under a black lace bra peeking through a red shirt.

“I came with Tim.”

Steve screwed up his nose, pulling back a little. “Tim? Tim who?”

Huffing, you pushed yourself off the wall and pressed Steve back by the shoulder. “Tim, Steve. Now, excuse me, but I’m gonna go find him—“

“No, hey.”

Steve snatched you by the elbow, causing you to fumble on the carpeting and narrowly miss someone heading up the steps. You gasped, stumbling into Steve still against the wall.

“Steve, what the hell?”

“‘m not done talkin’ to you.”

You glared at him, wrenching your arm away with force. “I don’t care.”

You rushed down the steps before he could speak again, head suddenly swollen with confusion, heart pounding hard in your chest. He hadn’t touched you in weeks. Hadn’t spoken to you, looked at you, so much as acknowledged you since the last time he was inside you.

All it took to get his attention was to finally attempt to move on? It was bullshit. It made your cheeks flame and your mouth line with sweetness that made your stomach coil. It wasn’t fair.

“Hey.” That soft Texan drawl called to you.

You raised your head from where you were glaring at the floor, softening when they found Tim’s green gaze. He grinned at you, still holding your red plastic cup from earlier. You retrieved it from him and allowed yourself to tuck into his side under the weight of his arm.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you told him. “Long bathroom line.”

Steve stepped into the fluorescents of the kitchen, weaving his way through bodies with wide, squared shoulders. He tossed a quick glance your way and shook his head as he made his way through the room. And what pissed you off most was the fact that he thought he had the right. The right to be upset, the right to think anything of you.

“Baby, you look so pretty in that lil’ top,” Tim said, tipping his chin down to you with a lopsided grin. He was a few beers in and loopy.

You grinned. “Do I?”

“Mhm. Real pretty—come gimme a kiss.”

You perked up on your toes to meet his mouth. His lips were always warm and soft and soaked in beer. Lord, college boys drank a lot. If you closed your eyes and forgot where you were, sometimes he even tasted like Steve.

But Tim always called you baby, and Tim always called you back. He walked you to class with your books in his arms and a hand on your waist, opened the door for you, and helped you into his truck when he took you for coffee.

And Steve? Steve acted like you didn’t exist if his dick wasn’t inside you.

Your tongue was just slipping past Tim’s teeth when you were torn apart by force. Tim stumbled aside, knocking you as he went and catching you quickly with a hand on your waist. Both your heads turned sharply toward the assailant.

Steve stood near the island where Tim had previously been, holding a bottle of beer and a look of nonchalance. His eyes glided from Tim’s look of surprise to your absolute glare.

“Sorry about that,” Steve said coolly. “Wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Tim resumed his spot beside you, and your body felt like it was vibrating against his. Every part of you was burning—and you couldn’t tell from what. Anger? Humiliation? Arousal? Maybe all three. You swallowed with difficulty and let Tim pull you in again. But your eyes never left Steve’s.

And his never widened from their slits. The ball of muscle near his jaw bone knotted when he clenched his teeth and it didn’t move.

“You okay, baby?” Tim’s attention was on you, and you looked away from Steve to smile at your date.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

The footballer had an easier lightness to him. Breezy, taking things with a grain of salt. He didn’t bother fighting Steve for his ‘mistake.’ He didn’t scold him for knocking you. He only smiled at you with a pair of pretty dimples and kissed the top of your head, arm bending around your shoulders.

“Wanna get outta here?”

Because he’d be going home with you. And it only took Tim a few moments to deduce that it was that fact alone that would drive Steve crazy. Even if you couldn’t.

You nodded, hand rubbing over his chest. You spared one more glance toward Steve, who had stepped away toward the other side of the kitchen with slow, slithering steps. He took a swig of his beer and clenched his teeth on the swallow.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Tim held your hand on the way out, guiding you down the front steps and toward the street. Your arms swung over the pavement, and you almost felt compelled to check if Steve was watching. What the hell was wrong with you?

“So what was that?”

You peered up from the pavement to Tim’s green eyes. “What?”

He cocked his head back at the brightly-lit house dimming behind you. The music faded the further you went. He was still wearing that dimpled grin.

“Back there, with that guy.”

You inhaled, looking back toward your feet. It only took a few moments to decide that you didn’t want to lie.

“We…used to hookup. But it’s completely over, I swear.” You skirted to a stop, gathering Tim’s other hand and meeting his eye again. “He’s just being a dick about it.”

He snorted. “I sort of got that when he came from across the room to ram into me.”

A giggle burst from your mouth, but it drooped into a frown. “I’m sorry.”

Tim frowned, brows creasing. “For what? You don’t got nothin’ t’ be sorry for, pretty girl.”

The warmth pulsing in your chest you could certainly make sense of now. “Okay.”

He grinned again, dropping one of your hands to squeeze your chin affectionately. “Okay. Come on.”

You walked the rest of the way to your apartment with his heavy arm over your shoulders again. And Steve watched from the front seat of his car, knowing exactly where he was going as he peeled away from the curb.

✶ ✶

“Alright, goodnight, little lady.”

“Goodnight, Tim.”

Your voices were punctuated by the slam of a door. Quick footsteps followed, a rhythmic succession ascending the staircase. Over the creaky board on the other side of the door, then—

“What the fuck?”

It burst open to a streak of lamplight in your bedroom and one Steve Harrington shadowing it at the foot of your bed. He had your university football teddy bear in his hands. It was a gift from Tim and it had his number on the bear’s soft yellow t-shirt.

Steve leapt to his feet. “What are you doing?”

You couldn’t seem to close your mouth. It hung open as you watched Steve raise his brows and jerk his chin expectantly. He tossed his arms out on either side.

“Huh?”

You came to your senses with a hard blink. “What am I doing? What the hell are you doing? How did you get in here?”

“Same way I always get in,” he quipped.

Heat touched your cheeks as you stepped into the room and gently clamped the door shut. You snatched the teddy bear from his hand and placed it back on your desk silently. Your purse fell to the floor where you were standing.

“You didn’t answer me. What the fuck are you doing?”

“Is this about the party or Tim?” You kicked your shoes off one by one, keeping your back to Steve and his stupidly pretty face.

You had such a soft spot for pretty boys, it seemed.

“You know what? Both.”

“Okay,” you sighed, pulling the first layer of your outfit off. Steve’s eyes scanned the lace of your tank top as red fabric made its way toward the hamper. “Tim and I are seeing each other. Tim wanted to go to the party, which happened to be at your frat—alas, there we were.”

The mattress springs yipped when you bounced on the edge to pull a clean pair of socks on. You wanted to strip your jeans, too, but you didn’t want to give Steve any ideas. He was already standing there with his arms crossed and his biceps and chest all puffed and sculpted. He already had that handsome pink tinge to his cheeks: his beer blush.

“Well, it’s weird,” Steve stated.

You rolled your eyes, exhaling a snicker. “Okay, Steve. Can you leave now? I’m tired.”

Steve tapped his finger on his arm, watching you shift on the bed and feign exhaustion. He chewed his cheek for a minute before reaching for his hair.

“Well…you know I missed you, right, sweetheart?”

He dropped his hands and softened his eyes into that soft, puppy-dog pout. Your scoff was sharp and sliced through the room. Steve stepped toward the bed.

“Right.”

“No, really,” he urged, sinking into the mattress before you. “You know I was just made president, and I just got super busy, that’s all. I meant to call you.”

You tipped your head at him and stared directly into those faux-pleading hazels. "How come everything you say to me sounds like a line, Steve?"

Steve sat unblinking for a moment. Then his cheeks colored a rosy shade, and he covered it with a cruel scoff and another sweep of his hair.

"What? Come on, you-you know I like you."

You pushed off the bed, head shaking. That warmth was slowly but surely returning to your body in violent form. You pulled your hair off your neck and padded toward the window to open it. Your room already smelled too much like Steve.

"You like playing with me," you corrected, keeping your back to him even as the mattress shrieked with his freed weight.

"You know, you're such a bitch-"

You spun around, shoving him by the chest. Steve stumbled a step back, but the smirk on his face made you regret even touching him at all.

"Get out."

"Hell no," he bit, lunging back into place. He grabbed at your arm again. "You think Tim wants you either? You think he doesn't just like playing with you? You always gave it up so easy."

Tears bubbled in the edges of your eyes. A tingling burn settled in the bridge of your nose. You shoved at him again and angled your head away from him and his sneering scowl and beer breath.

"Fuck you, Steve."

“You’re trying to replace me? Hmm?” Steve cocked his head to meet your eye, and you wished you could will away the hot tear trickling down your cheek. “That’s fine, sweetheart. I’ve got ten of you in my pocket.”

He shoved your arm away with a scowl, and you sniffled as he headed toward the door. All the hot-headed, enraged words pulsing on your tongue shriveled and died—and they were replaced with a hurt and heartbreak that was so familiar it was almost comfortable.

Yet as he opened your bedroom door, you rubbed your arm where he had held you and sniffled.

“Stay away from me, Steve.”

Door in hand, Steve turned and scoffed at you. “No problem.”

✶ ✶

You spent the next hour crying between makeup wipes and playing your radio on low. Pulled a faded grey t-shirt from your pajama drawer and tried not to look at Steve’s face rumpled at the bottom on a white t-shirt. Why hadn’t you thrown it away? He was so hard to let go.

With the football bear cradled to your chest, you wiggled under the covers and reached for the lamp. Your phone buzzed consecutively on the nightstand, causing pause. The plastic clicked on its hinges as it flipped open, and the sheets rustled when you shot up in bed.

u up?

tim is a fckn l0ser

answer

i’m sorry

The first time he called, you didn’t answer. You watched the small square light up with his name, felt the plastic shake in your palm with the force of its ring.

answer

Another call. You pressed the green button, but waited.

“Hello? Hey-hello?” His faded voice brought you from your daze.

You pressed the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Jesus, do you not read your texts?”

“Wh-what…why are you calling me?” Disbelief colored every syllable from your mouth.

Steve huffed. “I just…how much do you really know about this Tim guy?”

You looked at the bear sitting on your lap against the sheets. “About as much as I know about you, Steve.”

The line buzzed with quiet for a while. You played with the hem of the teddy bear’s shirt and gnawed on your lip. An ache balled in your chest when the thought of him hanging up occurred to you.

“Fair,” he said quietly.

Sighing, you shimmied under the covers again and reclined back against the headboard.

“Why are you calling me, Steve?” This time it was softer. You couldn’t give in to him anymore, but you had to hear him out. He never called you like this.

He never acted like he cared until now.

“Just…don’t wanna see you get hurt.”

You scoffed, pressing your palm against your head. Despite the way your heart pulsed with excitement, and the way your nerves locked up at the thought—you knew Steve didn’t mean any of it. He was just jealous. He wanted you as his personal plaything and he didn’t like to share.

You couldn’t swallow it anymore. You couldn’t keep biting your tongue to stay the perfect toy in hopes he might see you as more.

You had to end it.

“You already took care of that, Steve.”

You reveled in the buzzing silence of the other line for a beat.

“Goodnight,” you told him.

And you hung up the phone.

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

It was another competion the entire family all shoving and pushing each other into the car to see more of Damian's art.

Tim is excited for Damian.

He knows what it's like, to stand there and have no one show up. To be there all by yourself for hours the only one to visit your booth being the art teacher.

Ms. Carrington who would ask questions and ignore the tears that pooled in his eyes before helping him pack everything up, sometimes even driving him home because of course neither his parents or Bruce could be bothered to pick him up.

He can't really help the envy that he can feel building in his chest mixing with a good chunk of repressed anger.

A elbow being jabbed into his ribs distracts him.

"Hey what's with the face? Perk up Boy-Loser it's Damian's night."

He turns to Steph the smile that he had been attempting to plaster on falling. It's such a stupid thing it's a nickname so what if it's demeaning, he gets called pretender or replacement by Jason what does it matter.

"Do you ever think it's kinda fucked up that not a single person in this family calls me anything that isn't an insult?" He snaps.

She looks shocked. How fucking dare he have an ounce of self esteem. Someone alert the Media Tim Drake isn't a dormat.

He turns away sliding into the crowd.

There's less then half an hour left before he can leave. Pratically throwing himself down in the empty hallway as far as he can get from this entire night.

"Baby bird and Timmy aren't insults? Or are they I can't seem to keep up with the kids these days."

He turns, of course. You might be able to run from Batman or lie to him, but you can never escape the grasp of Big Brother Nightwing.

"So your admitting that your old?" he joins the banter.

His muscles start to unclench another superpower only Dick Grayson seems to have.

"Never, something you want to talk about?"

Does he? No. Should he? Yah.

"Maybe I just don't want be insulted every day of my life. So weird who doesn't want to be reminded they suck?"

He can hear the whine, he can also hear that everything he just said isn't gonna matter. You don't take whiny little boys seriously. And that's what he is.

"Hmm you know I get called Dickhead or really a lot of just penis related jokes. Always hated them not that it really stops anyone."

He looks finally making eye contact with his big brother. Because he's right. How many times has he heard anyone in the family other than him and Damian call Dick anything nice. Never not once. Maybe Bruce but he can't really picture it.

"Also don't think I didn't notice how annoyed you are with Bruce about this entire night, which I don't blame you for. You know I love Damian kiddo, but yah Bruce is not winning a mug from me or you."

He doesn't really want to acknowledge any of that already exhausted and he will have to apologize to Steph and if he opens the box it will be a car ride from hell home.

"Luckily for you I have a car parked a block up we can escape get ice cream and have a nice sleepover in bludhaven."

He wants to so bad, he wants to throw himself at Dick who knows him so well, who followed him out here, who isn't blinking, the only adult who has ever not somehow fucked him over.

"What about Damian? He will be pissed at me for stealing you or something. He doesn't need another reason to stab me."

He turns to look back at the floor.

"Foolish Drake I will be coming with you Father is being insesently annoying and I much rather talk about art with someone who has a brain cell."

Both him and Dick whip around to see Damian standing there a slight blush on his face hesitation making the corner of mouth twitch. He sees Dick looking on unsure. He doesn't hesitate.

"Thank god I know a great place with that Vegan Cookie Dough you like. What you waiting for Big Bird? Let's go. "

Climbling to his feet he grabs Dick and Damian dragging them to the exit he hears Dick's confused muttering sharing a secret smile with Damian before ignoring it.

The night is finally looking up.

[0o-junebug-o0]

Hii can we please get an Emily Prentiss with a fem reader with something to do with strip poker? :)

Love your fics sm!!

Strip Poker

Here you go, my love! And thank you! Also, I learned how to play texas hold 'em from a hermitcraft video haha

genre: fluff

cw: suggestive 16+! kinda fem! kinda gn!reader (reader's gender is not specified but is described as having breasts and wearing bra), strip poker, getting together, kinda fade to black smut

wordcount: 1.9k

“Wanna play poker?”

You turn to look at Emily. She’s lounging against the arm of her couch and watching you with raised eyebrows and a cheeky smile.

“You better not be like Reid,” you warn.

She laughs. “No, no. Don’t worry. I’m good, but I can’t count cards.”

You raise your eyebrows. “What are you trying to trick me out of? I don’t have any cash.”

“So does that mean you want to play?”

You shrug. “Sure. I don’t know what we would bet though.”

“We could play strip poker,” she says simply, like it’s no big deal at all.

Your eyes widen and you can feel your face warm. “Seriously?”

Emily shrugs. “We don’t have to, of course,” she says nonchalantly. “But, yeah, seriously.”

You swallow hard as you try to wrap your head around Emily’s proposal. Strip poker. With Emily. With the woman you’ve had a crush on for over a year. The thought seems almost too good to be true. You find yourself nodding and Emily’s eyes light up.

You can’t help but feel a little guilty as she pushes herself off the couch and leaves to grab a deck of cards. But she suggested it. It was her idea. It’s not like this was an elaborate plan on your behalf to see her naked.

Figuring it would be easier to play on a flat surface, you slip off the couch and onto the floor, crossing your legs beneath you and leaning back against the base of the couch. You pick at your fingernails nervously as Emily returns waving a deck of cards triumphantly.

She sits on the floor in front of you, leaving about a foot of space, and slips the cards from the pack. “What kind of poker do you want to play?” she asks, shuffling the cards with an ease you find insanely attractive.

“I only know Texas Hold ‘Em,” you admit nervously.

Emily nods and shuffles the cards again. “We’ll play that then. I’ll teach you another variant some other time.”

You haven’t even started to play, but your cheeks warm at the thought of doing this again. 

“No blinds, obviously,” Emily says.

You nod in agreement.

“We’ll bet an item of clothing and the other person can call to match the amount or raise by adding another item.” she continues. “You lose a hand, you lose a piece of clothing. And that includes folding unless it’s right off the bat.”

You nod again, too flustered to come up with any words.

“Alright,” Emily says, dragging out the word as she deals two cards facedown to herself and you.

You pick up your cards. Queen of spades and two of clubs. Not a great hand, but a queen high isn’t horrible.  “I-I’ll bet my shirt,” you mutter.

Emily nods. “I will as well,” she responds, taking three cards off the top of the deck and laying them out between you. Eight of hearts, eight of clubs, and 3 of spades. 

You glance up to see Emily watching you with an indecipherable expression. You can feel your heart rate pick up and you fight the urge to lower your gaze, staring right into her eyes instead. She smiles. “Do you want to raise?” she asks.

“No, I’m good.”

“You ready for the next card?”

You hum in affirmation and she takes the top card from the deck and sets it next to the others. Two of diamonds. You feel a bit of relief at the thought that you might not be the first to begin undressing.

Emily pauses for a moment to give you a chance to raise, and when you don’t she takes the next card from the deck and sets it down to reveal the six of diamonds. “Ace high,” she says, lowering her hand for you to see.

You smirk at her and flip your cards. “Two pair.”

Emily laughs and tilts her head in acknowledgment. She sets her cards down and curls her fingers under the hem of her shirt. Your breath hitches as she slowly starts to lift her shirt, revealing first her toned stomach and then the black bra that perfectly supports her breasts. Her eyes stay locked on yours the entire time. She finally pulls the shirt over her head and tosses it aside and you have to fight the urge to stare. She’s absolutely gorgeous and you don’t know what to do with yourself.

Emily reaches out and rests her hand on your knee, making you jump slightly. “You alright?” she asks sweetly.

You find yourself nodding before you can even properly process her question. She smiles at you and your stomach feels like it does a backflip.

“Ready for the next hand?” she asks, picking up all the cards and shuffling them.

You nod again. It’s like her beauty has rendered you incapable of coherent thought, much less speech. Emily deals the cards and you look to see that you have a six of hearts and a seven of clubs. With some luck, you might end up with a straight and get to see Emily take off another piece of clothing. You blink hard to drag yourself back to reality as Emily says, “I bet my socks.”

You look down at your hand again. “I’ll bet my shirt.”

Emily raises an eyebrow at you and you smile back. Your nerves are quickly starting to shift into excitement. She sets the next three cards down. Ace of hearts, 10 of spades, and jack of clubs.

“I’ll raise my belt,” Emily says. You look up at her to see a cocky expression on her face. The flop gives the chance for a straight, though you doubt she has both a queen and a king, if she already had a straight she’d be raising way more than just her belt. She might have one of them. Or maybe she’s bluffing.

“I’ll match with my belt.”

Emily deals out the turn. A five of diamonds. 

“I raise my pants.”

Your head shoots up and you stare at Emily with wide eyes. Maybe she does have a king and queen. You try to read her, but her expression is the same slight cockiness and self-satisfaction it’s been the whole game. You look back and forth between your hand and the community cards. 

“I fold.”

Emily smiles wide and you hand her your cards face down for her to shuffle back into the deck with the others. You take a deep breath to steady yourself before beginning to unbuckle your belt. Emily’s eyes seem practically glued to your hands as she shuffles the cards. The metal of the buckle clinks as you pull your belt through the loops of your pants and set it off to the side. You lock eyes with Emily as you hook your fingers under your shirt and her hands go still. 

You smirk, pleased to see that you seem to have the same effect on her that she has on you. Taking a leaf from her book, you maintain eye contact as you slowly remove your shirt, and by the time it’s gone and you’re just in your bra, you can see the blush on her cheeks. The realization that she’s enjoying this just as much as you are starts a fire burning in your gut and you start to think that maybe Emily wants you too.

She opens and closes her mouth for a moment, before lowering her gaze back to the cards and shuffling them again. “You’re beautiful,” she says softly.

Your face feels like it’s on fire. “Th-thank you,” you stutter, taken aback. “You are too.”

She lifts her head slightly and smiles at you softly before handing out the cards. Seven of hearts and king of spades. Emily hums as she looks at her cards. 

“I’ll, um, I’ll bet my socks,” you say. Now that you’re both shirtless, you can feel the excitement curling in your chest. You want to see more of her. 

Emily nods. “I’ll bet my belt.”

She lays down a four of clubs, nine of spades, and a king of clubs. You smile confidently. The flop doesn’t lend itself to anything good so you feel you have a good chance with a pair of kings. Even if Emily has four, as long as another one isn’t played in the turn or river, you’ll win.

“You gonna raise?”

You think for a moment before shrugging. You might as well. “I’ll raise my pants.”

Emily’s face flushes. “I’ll match with my own.”

Neither of you raises the bet as an ace of hearts and eight of clubs are played. When the hand is over, you smirk at her, feeling confident in your victory. You set your cards face up on the floor. Emily laughs and does the same. Your jaw drops. She has a four of spades and a four of hearts.

“You forgot about three of a kind, didn’t you?”

You stare at her in shock. “I—yeah,” you admit. “I thought for sure I had you.”

“That’s what you get for being cocky,” Emily teases with a laugh.

You scowl playfully and stick out your tongue. You quickly tug off your socks and toss them to the side before climbing to your feet. Emily’s gaze follows you as you stand, watching the movement of your fingers as you undo your pants. You can see the way her chest heaves with each breath as she watches you slowly push your jeans off your hips.

You bend over seductively, giving her a good view up your bra as you slide your pants down your legs. You swear you can hear her breath hitch. Once free of your jeans you toss them off to the side and sit back down with your legs crossed in a way that leaves your underwear exposed. 

Emily lowers her gaze and quickly reshuffles and deals the cards. The round passes quickly and you can tell she’s distracted. She jumps straight to betting her pants and you match with your bra, then she loses with a jack high to your pair of threes. She practically jumps to her feet and without removing her belt, pushes her pants down.

The sight of her underwear makes your face burn. They’re a pair of small black boyshorts that hug her ass perfectly as she bends over, forcing you to struggle between choosing to look there or at her breasts. Either way, she’s gorgeous. 

She tosses her pants to the side and, instead of sitting back down where she was, she closes the gap between you and lowers herself to sit on your lap. Your arms shoot up in surprise, your hands hovering over her skin, unsure if you’re allowed to touch. You can hear your pulse rushing in your ears.

Emily drapes her arms around the back of your neck and stares at you for a moment. You stare back with wide eyes and your mouth parted slightly in shock. She brushes her hand over your cheek and you swear your heart skips a beat. 

“You can touch me, sweetheart,” she whispers.

You nod desperately and immediately your hands find her hips. “I-is this really happening?” you breathe, unable to wrap your head around it.

“If you want it to.”

You nod again, just as desperately. “Yes, God, yes. I’ve wanted you for so long,” you gasp weakly.

Emily smiles softly at you. “I have as well.” Her gaze drops from your eyes to your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

You think the way your hand immediately slides into her hair and presses her lips against yours is answer enough.

_____

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just One Reason: When We Met

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn't end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

As you approach the sandwich shop, another pedestrian comes up from the other side. You open the door and hold it for them, waiting patiently for them to go first. The place isn’t very busy, you can wait an extra turn to get your food. 

The man barely acknowledges you as he enters. You’re used to that. In the city, manners run down the gutters with the rain and litter.  

You follow him inside. As he stomps to the counter, poking his ear in agitation, you stand back in a single-person queue. You check the chalkboard menu for the soups of the day. Oh, cabbage. They make the best cabbage soup you’ve ever had. 

You bounce on your heels as your gaze wanders over the monochrome wall art over the handcrafted wood tables. You open and close the flap of your crossbody purse. Your father always said you flutter like a hummingbird. Never quiet still and a little skittish. 

Behind the glaze of your distraction, the man’s deep snarl breaks through. You blink and lean to see around him. The cashier bats her lashes and puffs out her cheeks, “sorry sir, we discontinued the Mexican wrap, but the chipotle is similar--” 

“I don’t want the fucking chipotle,” he cups his ear and growls as he pushes his head into his hand.  

“They don’t send us the cilantro lime sauce anymore, sir,” the employee explains. “But I could add some peppers--” 

“Can’t you understand me?” He snips. 

“Erm, if you... if you put a bit of cilantro on, it would be close, wouldn’t it?” You ask, cringing as your thoughts spill out without intention. 

The man glares over his shoulder as his cheek pits derisively. He squints and shakes his head. He throws his arms out and faces the cashier again. “Whatever. Give me the damn chipotle with cilantro. I’m starving.” He reaches back for his wallet, “some fucking week...” he mutters. 

He slides the leather wallet above his pocket but it catches and falls from his grasp. He growls and bends to retrieve it. “Another fucking thing...” 

You watch him pick up his wallet and finger his ear again. It seems to cause him pain. The cashier watches helplessly. You feel bad for both of them. It just seems like a miscommunication. 

“Um, excuse me,” you wave two fingers at the cashier. “Can you add a cabbage soup and I’ll for both?” 

The employee blinks and the man snaps up with a scowl. They both stand in silent surprise. He finally shakes his head. “Why would you do that?” His tone makes it sound like an accusation. 

“I don’t know. Seems like you’re having a bad day and I can?” You shrug and cautiously step forward, “can I also get an iced raspberry tea?” 

“Uhhhh, sure,” the employee keys in the items. 

“Sir, did you want a drink?” You twist back to the man as he stands aside with a leery squint. He just shakes his head. 

“Alright, that’s everything. No cookie today,” you dig in your purse. “Debit, please.” 

She hits total and you pay. The receipt juts out of the machine and you step to the side to wait with one last thanks to the cashier. You tuck your card away and slip your phone out as your hands long to fidget. You know the man is staring, you can feel it, but you don’t want to piss him off even more than he already is. 

The lull that follow is torturous. The man’s wrap is up first and you wait for him to take it. He hesitates and you hand it to him. 

“I hope it’s still good,” you say with a smile at his throat. You’re too scared to look him in the eye. 

“You know I have money,” he grits. 

“Oh, no, that’s not... it isn’t... just a nice thing. Like, maybe one day you can pay it forward. I don’t know,” you rock sheepishly and look behind the counter. 

He nods and backs up. The cashier puts your soup up and your iced tea. You thank her and take your food.  

“Have a good one, sir.” 

You shuffle away to the table in the corner. You sit, self-conscious as the man lingers. Is he mad? You don’t think you were rude. 

The man sighs and goes up to the counter, “hey, look, I’m... sorry,” his words are stiff as if he could choke on them. “Thanks for the wrap.” 

“Oh, uh, okay, sir,” the cashier sounds shocked. “Um, enjoy.” 

You stir the soup and blow away the steam. As you scoop up a spoonful, the man approaches. You look at the velvet toes of his loafers then follow them up. He sits without invitation. 

You stare at him and lower your spoon. 

“Thanks for the wrap,” he says. “I was being a—jerk.” The last word is stunted as if he meant to say something else. “Mind if I eat with you?” 

You look around. The place is empty. You shrug. 

“Sure,” you grab the iced tea and swirl the ice. “Be nice to have company, I guess.” 

He hums and shifts in the chair. He peels away the wrapper and you sip from the straw. You put the cup down and stare into your soup. Your eyes flick up again and you find him staring. 

“Lloyd,” he offers his hand across the table, “but you can just call me that jackass who yells at people.” 

You give your name in return, his change in tone soothing your nerves. 

“You been here before?” He asks. 

“Once in a while,” you say. “When I can afford it. It’s a special treat. They have good soup.” 

He nods and looks down at the wrap, “yeah, food is pretty decent.” He lifts the wrap but doesn’t bite into it. He hovers it before him. “You know, you didn’t have to be nice to me.” 

“You never know what other people are going through. Sometimes, they just need some kindness,” you say. “And if they’re just a butthole, well, you’re not going to change that by matching their energy.” 

His brows arch, and he tilt his head. He sucks in his cheeks thoughtfully, “well, I think I’m just a butthole, as you put it. Thanks for giving me a chance.” 

You don’t know what to say. It’s awkward. You usually eat alone. You don’t have anyone to eat with, not since dad passed. Still, not all change is bad, is it? You’ve already faced the worst kind of change. 

You lean forward and take a bite of your soup. Sometimes making someone’s day easier makes your own a little brighter. As of late, none of them have been more than gloomy. 

[hard-core-super-star]

Can i ask one for Kate Bishop. One where kate and reader's are best friends .they sleep together after being drunk. R is hopelessly in love with her. Everybody including kate knows this but it's like an un spoken thing.katie says doesn't see r like that because obviously she's afraid of losing the friendship if the relationship fails. Tells r that night was a one tym thing . After sometimes start seeing somebody so r will get the idea. So much angst ,heart breaks ,Kate being an idiot ,r being lovesick puppy .and a Happy ending .☺️ Its okay if you can't .Thank you ♥

an inch away from more than just friends [K.Bishop]

pairing: kate bishop x reader

summary: falling in love with your best friend is supposed to be easy. unfortunately, neither you nor kate are particularly good at talking about your feelings.

warnings: a complete mess of fluff, smut, angst, and idiots in love; kate is HORRIBLE at acknowledging her feelings; drunken hookup in a storage closet {lots of grinding + teasing; r is a brat and kate is annoyed but turned on; small bits of dirty talk}

wordcount: 4k

a/n: I'M ALIVE! sorry for not posting much on here, i've been spending a lot of this past month working on my vampire!kate story so inspiration has been quite limited. i'm thinking about posting more short drabbles but idk how to format them 😅 anyway, i hope you're all doing well and i hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

You weren't sure how you had ended up here. You hated parties. Especially ones thrown by rich people who had nothing better to do than spend a ridiculous amount of money on expensive booze and shitty food.

Not to mention, this particular party was being hosted in some skyscraper in downtown New York, which meant no matter how badly you wanted to escape the bustling atmosphere, there was nowhere else to go. Even the balconies that littered the outside were subject to the nonstop sounds of traffic.

At least it was better than being inside and having to sit through endless small talk about things you didn't understand.

A familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts as you lean against the railing, silently watching the cars drive by on the street below you. "There you are."

You turn your head and give Kate a small smile. "Hey."

The archer approaches you, a certain bounce in her step that isn't coming from her normal bubbly personality. 

While you weren't the biggest fan of these types of parties, Kate somehow thrived in them. Sure, she could be awkward most times, and she had a terrible habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, but she was charming. And as much as she hated the rich men who she had to rub elbows with all night, she understood them.

She'd grown up in this life while you...well, you were an outsider. Someone who didn't fit in, no matter how many expensive outfits the young CEO bought you or how many people she argued with.

The only thing you two could agree on was that the best part of these events was the free alcohol.

"How long have you been out here?" Kate asks as she joins you, her side pressing against yours and giving away how tipsy she already is.

"Like twenty minutes," you reply. "It was getting too stuffy in there."

She laughs and you allow yourself to admire her jawline and the way the city lights bounce across her skin. "Tell me about it. I swear I've had the same conversation with everyone."

"I don't know why you still bother coming to these things."

"It's good for the company, I guess," she says with a shrug. "And it gives me an excuse to get dressed up with you."

You roll your eyes at her, hating the way your heart instantly skips a beat at her words. She always gets extra flirty when she drinks. If you were more of an optimist, you might even believe her words had some sort of truth to them. 

"You're an idiot."

She makes a face at you, her features a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "You always say that."

"Because it's true," you say.

"Whatever," she huffs.

The two of you stand there for a few minutes, basking in the closeness of your bodies. It's a small thing, but it's moments like these that remind you just how deep your feelings for the archer run.

The buzz from the alcohol in your system leads you to rest your head on her shoulder without a second thought. Her arm wraps around you in an instant and it's not until that moment that you realize how cold you are.

"Can we leave yet?" You ask in a soft voice. It's a little embarrassing how desperate you are to be away from the bustling party.

"Almost," she replies. "I think you owe me a dance."

You groan, already dreading the looks you'll definitely get. "Do we have to?"

"Yes, we do." She gives your side an affectionate squeeze before pulling away from you. "Just one dance, and then we can leave."

You know better than to trust her words, but you can't pretend dancing with her doesn't sound nice. Clearly, Kate isn't the only one with lowered inhibitions right now.

"Fine," you roll your eyes but reach out for her hand.

Her fingers interlock with yours, and she leads the way to the makeshift dance floor. Thankfully, most people seem too busy in their own conversations to pay attention to the dancing couples...and you and Kate.

It fills you with more bitterness than you'd like, but you try not to dwell on it. It's easier said than done...until her hands land on your waist and pull you close to her. 

"You can come closer, sweetheart, I don't bite."

A nervous laugh escapes you. Mainly because you've listened to enough of her superhero stories to know for a fact she does bite, but also because getting closer to her is the last thing you should do right now.

She makes it far too easy to do, though, so you give in and wrap your arms around her neck.

The two of you start swaying to the soft music being played by the small group of musicians at the front of the room. It's hard not to spend the entire time admiring her features from this distance and as much as you try to ignore it, it's impossible to deny the way your heart flutters in your chest every time you make eye contact with her.

Your silence seems to surprise her, considering the way her eyebrows furrow together. "You okay?"

You nod and try to ignore how close your faces are. "Yeah, just...thinking."

That seems to get her attention and her concerned look turns into a slightly mischievous smile. "Oh yeah? About what?"

"Wouldn't you love to know?" You reply, hoping your attempt at teasing her will help distract her.

It doesn't work and instead of moving on, she wordlessly pulls you closer, her smile turning into a smirk when your eyes widen from the sudden proximity. "Come on, sweetheart, don't get shy on me now."

"You're annoying."

"Is that why you've been staring at my lips this whole time?"

Her words catch you off-guard, but they're not exactly far-fetched. The alcohol in your system mixed with having her so close only equals a long list of bad ideas. You can't deny how enticing those ideas sound, though.

You somehow manage to find your voice long enough to throw her observation back at her. "I think you're projecting, Katie."

"So you don't want to kiss me?"

She's toying with you, you know she is because you've seen her do it countless times, but you can't find it in yourself to really care. You know you shouldn't do it. You try to remind yourself that you're both drunk and simply trying to rile each other up for fun.

That no matter what happens, it won't mean anything. At least, not to her.

The longer you think about it, though, the less the potential consequences matter to you.

"I do," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "But only because it's the only way to shut you up."

You expect her to laugh at you and change the topic, but, of course, she doesn't. Because the only thing Kate loves more than annoying you is taking you by surprise.

In an instant, she closes the distance between your faces, her lips meeting yours in a borderline hesitant kiss. You're certain you've never seen her so nervous before. It's strange but endearing.

More than that, it helps distract you from how nervous you are.

She pulls away from you with a smile so bright that it makes your mind swim. "I guess you were right, kissing me does shut me up."

"Is that your way of trying to convince me to kiss you again?" You ask, doing your best to act nonchalant.

You're not sure that it works very well, but thankfully, she makes no teasing comments about it. She simply steals all your thoughts away by kissing you again.

The fact that you're one step away from fully making out in the middle of the dance floor isn't lost on you. Kate seems to come to the same realization as you at that moment and she reluctantly pulls away from you just to grab your hand and lead you away from everyone's gaze.

You don't know where exactly she's taking you, you just know it's definitely not toward the exit. You'd love to call her out on it and act upset and yet...you don't. How can you when your curiosity is practically eating you alive?

She drags you into the first storage closet she finds, closing the door behind you and pushing you against it. The action steals your breath away, along with the rest of your coherent thoughts.

You weren't going to act like you'd never fantasized about doing this with Kate but you'd always imagined it would happen under different circumstances. Although, if you're completely honest, you can't say you're actually mad about it.

"Hi," you whisper, your eyes drifting down to her lips once more.

"Hey." Her hands find their way back to your waist as she steps forward, effectively trapping you against the door. "Are you...still okay with this? 'Cause we can just leave and act like nothing happened."

You appreciate her thoughtful words even though the fire she started within you is burning far too bright to be put out now. 

"Yeah, I'm okay," you assure her. "I don't think stopping is an option now."

Your words seem to make her hesitation disappear and her smirk instantly makes a comeback. "And why is that, darling?"

"You know why."

Kate leans in closer, one of her hands drifting down to grip your leg and lift it up until it's wrapped around her waist. "Maybe...but I want to hear you say it."

"In your dreams, sweetheart."

You feel incredibly proud of yourself until the archer pushes herself against you, creating the most wonderful friction against your center. The movement catches you off-guard and you let out an embarrassingly desperate moan at the feeling.

The brunette takes advantage of the moment and ducks down to attach her lips to your neck. "I would love to put you in your place but you are far too adorable like this."

Your head tilts back to give her more access to your skin as you struggle to put yourself together long enough to reply to her words. "I wouldn't describe this as adorable."

She chuckles against your skin, the feeling of her warm breath sending ripples of pleasure down your spine. You almost can't believe this is actually happening. For a second, you briefly wonder if you're simply dreaming.

There's no way the pressure of her body against yours isn't real, though. No way for the pleasure you're experiencing to be completely made up by you.

The hand still on your waist gives you a soft squeeze before she guides you against her. There's something slightly humiliating about grinding against her in some random, badly lit, storage closet that only adds to the intensity of the moment.

Kate seems to read your mind considering the way she moves against you, drawing out another barely supressed moan. "You're holding back, y/n/n."

Her teasing words only make you want to tease her right back. Just because you've wanted her like this for a long time doesn't mean you want to make things easy for her. Riling her up is always more fun anyway.

"Maybe you're just not as good as you think you are," you reply, hoping she won't call you out for grinding against her so desperately. 

She has no plan to make things easy on you, though, and as annoying as it is, it's also incredibly attractive. "That's not what your body is saying." 

"How can you be such a dork at a time like this?" 

"It's my talent." 

"Keep telling yourself that." 

She groans, out of annoyance rather than pleasure, but you know your slight defiance is a turn on for her. It's almost funny how someone so bratty gets such a rush out of putting other brats in their place. "I hope you know your attitude is going to cost you later." 

"Don't threaten me with a good time, Katie." 

Her hand finally makes its way up your thigh, and she cups your heated core in one quick move. "How am I the annoying one?" 

You let out a sharp gasp, your hips rocking against her hand with zero shame or hesitation. You're already so close to falling apart, the coil in your stomach embarrassingly close to snapping already. In your defense, it's been a long time since your last hookup. 

"Not so mouthy now, are you, sweetheart?" Her amusement is more than clear and, even though you'd love nothing more than to wipe the smirk off her face, you're a little preoccupied with the mounting pleasure. 

"Kate..." You whimper, attempting to pull her impossibly closer to you. "Fuck."

Her teasing energy is quickly replaced by satisfaction. Satisfaction that motivates her to speed up her movements, effectively replacing all your thoughts with the feeling of her hands on you.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" She asks, her lips trailing a path from your neck to your jaw.

"Yeah," you reply, your voice a breathless, needy, whisper. "...please."

"Such a good girl. Go on, let me hear you fall apart for me."

Her words are exactly what you need to let go. It's a little embarrassing, and the lack of full contact makes it a little less satisfying than you'd like, but your orgasm crashes into you almost instantly. Your hands grip onto her shoulders as you ride out the waves, her soft whispers guiding you through the overwhelming sensations.

You're shaking and panting and absolutely spent after such a rush of emotions and Kate is right there, holding you close through it all. Somehow, the affection and care she's showing you feels even better than the orgasm you just had.

"You okay, baby?" She asks as she leans back just enough so your eyes can meet again.

You nod, still too shaken to find your voice. 

"You're too cute." 

Despite your breathlessness, she gives you a quick kiss, pouring far too many feelings neither of you want to think about right now into it. The alcohol must be draining from your system because you're already starting to freak out about this.

About how difficult it'll be to act like nothing happened. Like you're not completely in love with your best friend.

There's no way for you to deny it now. Hell, Kate herself can't deny it anymore either.

And yet you both try.

"Do you want to go back to my apartment?" She asks once you're able to pull away from each other.

The intention is behind her words is more than clear and it somehow manages to bring your confidence back. "Only if you let me repay the favor."

"I think we can definitely work something out," she replies with a genuine smile.

That's all you need to take her hand and drag her out of the storage closet. Her laugh rings out in your ears as you make your way to the exit.

True to your word, you spend the rest of the night returning the favor and drawing orgasm after orgasm out of Kate. It's not enough to make you believe you'll be together the way you want to and yet it's more than enough for ythe moment. 

It's more than you ever thought you'd get from her.

Unfortunately, morning comes too quickly and it brings the realization that you severely underestimated how much things would change. How quick Kate would be to sweep everything under the rug and deny it even happened.

It hurts but it's not a complete surprise considering the way the archer reacts to most things.

You manage to work through it, silencing your desires in favor of making her comfortable and keeping her in your life. It's not the healthiest thing in the world but you manage.

Your friendship only suffers for a few days before you're back to normal. No one would even notice anything if it weren't for the major heart eyes you throw her way all the time.

Everyone knows, though. Everyone cares except Kate.

Instead of talking about it like a normal person, she decides to make things worse by getting a girlfriend. You don't even know who she is and the archer doesn't give you any real details, she just mumbles something about a coffee shop and a cute dog.

You've never known Kate to be particularly reserved but she is this time. Not just that, she actively ignores you. Dodging your questions expertly and pretending there's nothing weird about how little time she spends with you.

You had always assumed it would be your feelings that ruined your friendship but Kate managed to ruin everything on her own. It's almost a skill.

Somehow, even as your heart breaks and endless questions swim around your mind, you manage to keep going. More than that, you match Kate's energy and pretend you don't even notice the change in her attitude. You're not sure who's more hurt by that but you don't even care.

You treasure the brief moments you get with her and mentally shout at her every time she cancels another movie night. Her excuses are endless. One day, she tells you she's too busy with Avengers work, the next she's too caught up with Bishop Securities.

The only thing that brings you some sense of comfort is the fact you're not the only one being lied to. Her so-called "girlfriend" gets the same excuses as you, at least that's what Yelena tells you. The Russian has no reason to lie, though, so you believe her and ignore the rising thought of making Kate jealous.

That's the only thing you're able to do: ignore Kate and the feelings you still have for her.

It works for a while...until the archer finds her way back to you.

It's the middle of the night when you hear frantic knocking on your door. You suppress your fear long enough to make it to the door, baseball bat in hand.

You open the door and come face to face with those same blue eyes you've tried not to think about for over a month. "Kate?"

"Hey," she mumbles, nervousness instantly creeping into her voice. "I, um...can I come in?"

You're tempted to say no and slam the door in her face. You're honestly half-way to doing it when you notice the way she's swaying and clutching her side."You're not drunk, are you?" You question.

Your attempt to lighten the mood falls flat but she smiles anyway. "No, I'm unfortunately sober."

You hum in response before stepping aside and letting her come in. There's a voice in the back of your head that warns you not to get caught up in the past. To keep your distance until she, at the very least, apologizes for being such a jerk to you.

Kate manages to make it to your couch without tripping while you lock your door and put the baseball bat back in its usual place. You brace yourself for the uncomfortable conversation that's bound to follow as you follow after her.

"So...what happened to you?"

Her only response for a few moments is a groan and you do your best to stifle your laughter. For someone who's the human embodiment of a golden retriever, she looks a lot like a grumpy cat right now.

"Stupid mission," she grumbles while attempting to stretch her sore muscles. "I don't know where someone can get the money for that many henchmen."

"Says the rich girl," you reply with a smirk.Kate rolls her eyes but some of the tension in her shoulders disappears. 

"Oh, shut up."

Your cross your arms over your chest before raising an eyebrow at her. "I don't think you're in any position to talk to me like that."

A barely noticeable blush spreads across her features. "Sorry," she mumbles. "I just...I've missed talking to you like this."

You wish it didn't but your heart skips a beat at her words. It's stupid considering the fact she's the one who put you guys in this situation yet there's nothing you can do about it. Your heart still belongs to her.

"Is that why you've been ignoring me lately?" You ask, unable to keep the bitterness out of your tone. "Why are you even here, anyway? I'm sure your girlfriend's worried about you."

Your words cause the smallest of changes in Kate's body language. She hunches down almost as if she's trying to sink into herself and disappear. You've seen her like this far too many times to not know how she's feeling.

"She would be if she didn't hate my guts right about now," she replies with a sigh. "Can't say I blame her, breaking up with her and leaving on a mission isn't the most mature thing to do."

"Wow, you're finally self-aware," you tease her, more out of habit that anything else. "A lot can change in a month, huh?"

The lack of annoyance in your tone allows her to relax again. As much as you might like to be petty, she seems genuinely sorry and upset. "Okay, I deserve that. I've been an asshole to you."

"Yes, you have, but it looks like karma finally caught up with you."

There's an edge of concern to your words that you can't quite hide. She doesn't seem to be in excruciating pain which hopefully means she's not badly hurt but with how stubborn she is, you wouldn't be surprised if she was blatantly hiding a gunshot wound.

Kate chuckles as she leans back against your couch, the movement allows you to search her suit for bloodstains and, thankfully, you find nothing except a couple of tears in the fabric. "Karma's a bitch..but I probably deserved it."

"Probably?" You ask.

"Okay, fine," she grumbles. "I definitely deserved it. It just...seemed like the right thing to do."

You can't hold back the scoff that leaves your lips. "On what Earth was ignoring me after hooking up with me "the right thing to do"?"

She grimaces, the words hitting her a little too hard. You feel a little bad for her even though these are simply the consequences of her own actions. "I was afraid of ruining our friendship. I didn't...I don't want to lose you, y/n. You mean too much to me."

A part of you wants to keep being petty about the whole thing but you've missed her far too much to push her away now. Even though she probably deserves it for being such an idiot.

"You have a very weird way of showing it." You finally allow yourself to close the distance between you two, walking over and taking a seat next to her.

Kate's hand instantly finds its way into yours, her head turning to look at you. There's a thin layer of tears in her eyes that tugs at your heartstrings. "I know...and I really am sorry."

"I know," you reply, giving her hand a soft squeeze. "You're my best friend, Kate, I've always known you're an idiot."

She rolls her eyes but doesn't say anything more, allowing a comfortable silence to fill the room.

There's a lot more you both still want to say and yet neither of you makes any attempt at breaking the moment. It's almost comforting how quickly you fall back together like two slightly damaged magnets.

Finally, after minutes go by, Kate allows herself to tell you the truth.

"It's you," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's always been you and I'm so sorry I tried to pretend it wasn't true."

Her words bring a wave of relief, and a slight bit of annoyance that you do your best to supress. "Can you just shut up and kiss me before I kick you out?"

She laughs, a real one this time, before leaning forward and stealing your breath with a kiss.

It's not enough to fix all the damage but it's a start. And you're more than happy to flip the page with her.

[hoe4hotchner]

What He Left Behind | [E.P]

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x gn!reader CW: abandoment issues, daddy issues, big emotions, smoking, r is a little rude to em, angst but with comfort in the end. WC: 2.4k

This is still very Hotch centric, it wouldn't be me if it wasn't ;)

           The air in the BAU headquarters was thick with tension, the recent ordeal with Mr. Scratch still casting a large cloud over the team. Every desk seemed untouched, paperwork scattered but stagnant, as if the entire office had been holding its breath since the case closed. The familiar hum of conversation was reduced to murmurs, eyes glancing over at one another, silently acknowledging the looming unease.

           Rossi had summoned everyone into the conference room with a somber expression that spoke volumes to all of you. You knew something was about to happen. Everyone did. After everything you’d all endured, there was an unspoken dread in the air, the kind of weight that settled deep in your bones. You weren’t sure you had the energy for whatever news was coming, but there was no avoiding it.

           You sank into your usual seat at the table, the exhaustion wrapping around you like a heavy blanket. Spencer slid into the seat next to you, his fingers twitching restlessly, tapping an uneven rhythm on the smooth surface. Derek leaned back, his arms crossed, jaw set in anticipation, while JJ sat directly across from you, her brows drawn together in quiet worry. And then there was Emily, standing at the head of the table, her posture rigid, though her eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place - concern, maybe, or apprehension.

           The sound of Rossi entering the room broke the stillness. He moved deliberately, placing a thick, worn file onto the table with a thud that echoed like the ticking of a clock. His eyes traveled around the room, pausing briefly on each of you as if preparing for the blow he was about to deliver.

           "Hotch isn’t coming back," Rossi began, his voice was low but unwavering, each word landing like a hammer. "He’s decided to stay out of the field for good. His priority is Jack now, he wants to keep his family safe."

           The impact of his words hit you square in the chest, knocking the wind out of you. The room shifted almost imperceptibly, the tension coiling tighter in your stomach. You stopped paying attention to the words coming from Rossi's mouth, only noticing the movement of his mouth. You had known this was coming - felt it in your gut for weeks now - but hearing it spoken aloud made it real in a way that cut deeper than you were ready for. Hotch had been the anchor of the team, the steady hand guiding everyone through the storm. And now… now he was gone. A gap that couldn’t be filled.

           "As a result," Rossi continued, turning his gaze toward Emily, "Prentiss will be taking over as Unit Chief, effective immediately."

           There was no surprise in Emily’s eyes - she had clearly anticipated this moment, if not known about it longer than the rest of the team - but you could see the weight of the responsibility settling over her like a mantle. She nodded slightly, stepping forward. "Thank you, Rossi. I know this is a huge change for all of us, but I’ll do everything in my power to lead this team as great as Hotch did."

           Her voice was steady, the right kind of confidence to reassure the team, but the finality of it all made your heart sink. The person you had always relied on, the father figure who had been there through your darkest moments, wasn’t coming back. And that realization… it stung more than you’d expected.

           You felt your chest tighten, the weight of the news pressing down harder. The walls of the room seemed to inch closer, and the air felt suffocating. You needed to escape, even if just for a moment.

           Emily’s eyes found yours from across the room, her gaze softening as she noticed the change in your expression. She opened her mouth as if to say something, a question, or maybe a word of comfort, but you couldn’t bear to hear it.

           "I - I’m sorry," you muttered under your breath, standing abruptly. "I just… need a minute."

           Before anyone could respond, you were already out of your seat, your legs carrying you toward the door in a rush. You could feel Emily’s eyes on your back as you hurried out, the sound of the door clicking shut behind you leaving the room in a stunned silence.

           The cold, biting wind greeted you as you pushed open the door to the roof of the FBI Academy building. It wasn’t the first place you would usually go to clear your head, but tonight it felt like the only place to escape. The sounds of the world below - the bustle of cars, distant conversations, the faint hum of life - seemed far away, drowned out by the heavy silence in your chest. You reached into your pocket and pulled out a nearly forgotten pack of cigarettes, the cellophane crinkling under your fingers. You weren’t a smoker - never had been - but the weight of the job sometimes craved for you to search for something dopamine inducing. The weight of this day, of Hotch's absence, had pushed you to search for some sort of release.

           With shaky hands, you flicked the lighter, the flame catching after a few attempts. The soft click of the lighter closing was swallowed by the wind as you brought the cigarette to your lips. The bitterness of the smoke filled your lungs, foreign and sharp, but the burn was grounding. You exhaled slowly, watching the thin line of smoke drift into the dark sky, curling and twisting as if it could carry your pain away.

           But the ache in your chest remained, deepening with every thought of him. Hotch wasn’t coming back. No matter how many times you'd heard the echo of Rossi's voice replaying in your head, the words echoed like a cruel reminder of what you had lost. He was safe and alive, but that knowledge didn’t stop the hollow feeling gnawing at you. He had been more than a boss to you - he was the father you'd never had, guiding you through the chaos of the job, offering stability when everything else was falling apart. You trusted him, relied on him, and now he had chosen not to return.

           The cigarette trembled between your fingers as memories of him flooded your mind. The quiet, reassuring conversations, his steady presence in the bullpen, the way he always seemed to know when you needed guidance or a hug without asking for it. You had counted on him, believed he would always be there. But now… now it felt like he had left you behind, and it hurt in a way you hadn’t expected.

           You took another slow drag, the bitter smoke swirling in your lungs as the hurt twisted deeper. The sense of abandonment stung, cutting through your composure, leaving you raw and exposed. You had always told yourself that you could handle anything, that you were strong enough to face the toughest moments. But this - being left behind by the person you trusted the most - felt like too much. Too final.

           Your gaze drifted over the dark cityscape, the lights of Washington D.C. blinking somewhere in the distance like stars that felt too far out of reach. The cigarette burned low between your fingers, the warmth of it a sharp contrast to the cold, but even that small comfort felt fleeting. You stared at the wisps of smoke rising into the air, wishing, just for a moment, that it could take your pain with it, leaving you free from the weight pressing down on your heart.

           The door to the rooftop swung open with a loud creak, cutting through the air, and you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The sharp, deliberate clack of Emily's boots echoed across the concrete, each step heavier than the last as she approached you. The cool breeze ruffled your hair, carrying with it the faint scent of the nearby trees, but even that couldn’t distract you from the inevitable confrontation coming your way.

           You inhaled deeply, pulling another drag from the cigarette between your fingers. The taste filled your lungs yet again, mixing with the dull ache of betrayal still biting at your heart. You exhaled slowly, watching the smoke swirl and dissolve into the sky as you stared blankly at the horizon.

           "Found you," Emily’s voice was softer than usual, the concern behind it undeniable, yet there was a slight grin to her tone as she tried to lighten the mood. Her steps slowed as she reached your side, the gentle rustle of her coat barely audible over the wind. She tucked her hands into her pockets, her posture relaxed but her gaze heavy on you. "You shouldn’t be up here alone."

           "I’m fine," you replied, your voice clipped and distant. The words were more out of habit than truth. You dropped the cigarette to the ground, grinding it beneath your heel with a sharp twist. The tension between you was palpable, but you refused to acknowledge it. Not now. Not with her.

           Emily lingered for a moment, her eyes searching your face, trying to read the emotions you were so carefully keeping hidden. "No, you’re not. I saw how you reacted in there. You don’t have to pretend, not with me."

           A wave of frustration surged through you at her persistence, but you kept your gaze forward, refusing to meet her eyes. "I’m not pretending, Prentiss." the sound of her name laced with venom.

           The use of her last name caused her to pause, and you could feel her shifting slightly beside you. She wasn’t buying it, but she also wasn’t going to let you off the hook that easily. "You’re upset about Hotch."

           Her words struck a nerve, one you’d been trying desperately to ignore. You turned away from her, clenching your fists as the weight of everything you’d been avoiding pressed down on you. "Don't you dare profile me! Of course, I’m upset. We all are. But it doesn’t change anything."

           "That’s not what I mean, and you know it," Emily said, stepping into your line of sight. She didn’t raise her voice, but the quiet firmness of her tone left no room for evasion. "This is different for you. He was more than just your unit chief."

           You swallowed hard, your jaw tightening as the familiar sting of hurt rose in your throat. "I don’t want to talk about it," you snapped, more harshly than you intended. The words hung in the air between you, sharp and defensive. You took a step back, putting distance between the two of you, your heart pounding in your chest. The pressure inside you was building, emotions you’d been holding down threatening to spill over.

           But Emily didn’t back down. She stood firm, her eyes never leaving yours. "You feel abandoned. Like he’s left you behind."

           "Emily, stop it!" The raw truth in her words shattered what little control you had left. A surge of anger bubbled up inside you, breaking through the cracks of your carefully constructed facade. "Of course, I feel abandoned!" you shouted, your voice trembling with emotion. "He was like… he was like a father to me, Emily. He helped me when no one else did, and now he’s just… gone!"

           You could feel your voice rising, emotions swirling uncontrollably. Your hands shook as you continued, the dam finally breaking. "He’s out there, living his life with Jack, safe and happy, and I get it - I do. But what about us? What about the team? What about me?"

           The tears welled up in your eyes before you could stop them, blurring the world around you. You swallowed hard, trying to push the lump in your throat back down, but the words kept coming, spilling out like water from a broken dam. "He promised he’d always be there, Emily. He said he’d never leave, and now he’s just… not. He left, and it feels like I didn’t matter. Like I wasn’t enough to keep him here."

           Your voice broke, a sob finally escaping as the weight of it all hit you. Hot tears streaked down your face, and your chest heaved with the effort of holding it together. But you couldn’t. Not anymore.

           Before you could fall apart completely, Emily closed the distance between you, wrapping her arms around you in a strong, secure embrace. You stiffened at first, unaccustomed to the sudden closeness, but the moment her hand rested gently at the back of your head, you crumbled. Sobs wracked your body as you buried your face in her shoulder, your fingers clutching at her jacket like a lifeline.

           Emily’s arms tightened around you, holding you close, her steady heartbeat grounding you in the chaos of your emotions. She whispered softly, her voice soothing as she stroked your hair. "It’s okay. Let it out. I’m here. I’ve got you."

           The warmth of her embrace, the steady cadence of her breathing, the soft murmur of her voice - it was everything you hadn’t known you needed. You clung to her, the pain and hurt pouring out in ragged sobs as she held you through it, never letting go.

           After what felt like an eternity, your sobs began to quiet, your body still trembling but no longer overwhelmed. Emily loosened her hold just enough to pull back and look at you, her hand coming up to brush a tear from your cheek. Her eyes were filled with understanding, with care.

           "You didn’t lose him," she whispered, her thumb brushing gently against your cheek. "He didn’t abandon you. Hotch made his choice for Jack, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you. He cares about all of us. But you’re not alone. I’m here. The team is here. We’re still a family."

           You sniffled, your hands still gripping her jacket as you wiped at your face. "It just hurts, Emily. I don’t know how to… how to do this without him."

           "You don’t have to do it alone," she reassured, her voice soft but steady, unwavering in its promise. "We’ll figure it out together. And I’ll be here every step of the way."

           For the first time since the news broke, you felt a small, fragile flicker of hope. Emily smiled gently, her hand still resting on your shoulder, a silent anchor amidst the storm. You nodded, the weight in your chest lifting, just a little.

           "Come on," she said, her voice lighter now. "Let’s get out of this wind. I'm freezing."

           You allowed her to lead you back toward the stairwell, side by side, the cold wind slowly fading behind you. As you walked, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, things would be okay. You weren’t alone. And with Emily by your side, that felt like enough.

[raayllum]

Faith and Relationships in TDP

Relationships in TDP—familial, platonic, romantic, etc.—place a lot of emphasis on belief. Do you believe me? Do you believe in me? Is the way you see me the way I see myself, good or bad? This has always been an undertone of course, but some Rayla-Aaravos parallels and Viren with Kpp'Ar made it ping in my head, so I thought it was time to talk about.

Relationships that will be examined roughly in order:

Harrow + Sarai / Harrow + Viren

Viren and Kpp'Ar

Claudia and Soren

Terry and Claudia

Aaravos and Claudia

Rayla and Callum

Janai and Amaya

Ezran with his council and Zym

Janai and her people

I'm sure there'll be others (Ellis is going to make an appearance at one point, Runaan and Rayla, and possibly Karim / Miyana as a contrast) but this is what came to mind most notably. I'm also going to do my best to stay out of the weeds with TDP talking about how characters view things (or their perspectives of each other / actions magic etc.) as beliefs as otherwise we'd be here quite literally all day, but there will inevitably be some of that. But without further ado let's look into it:

Living Up to How People Think of You: Does Being Believed In Make You Better?

Time and time again we see TDP frame faith (and trust though that could be a separate meta on its own, but we'll touch on it a bit here), specifically someone having faith in you, as something that can make you better. If you have faith in someone, you trust and believe in them to behave a certain way—in ways that likely align with why you love them or believe in them—and so long as those patterns are maintained, the love and faith and trust remains. The belief holds and continues to be a steady foundation.

This is something I noticed being particularly prevalent in S1, specifically between how Viren talks about his dynamic with Harrow, and how it mirrors how Viren talks about Harrow's relationship with Sarai.

Now this comparison is actually one of the reasons Viren/Harrow always felt a bit fruity to me ever since S1 aired, since as Viren explains:

He asked me to stand next to him for the portrait because he knew I would stand by him through anything. I have to stand by him through this too. [...] It means there's one more thing I can do to convince him. (1x02)

Your sister made him better. Harrow told me he was never as strong or brave

but he tried every day to be stronger and braver so he could live up to what she saw in him. (1x05)

For Viren and for Harrow, this "I want to live up to how you see me" was ultimately a good thing. In Harrow's relationship, he did his best to live up to how Sarai saw him, and that meant being a loving compassionate father, and trying to be a champion of "strength and justice". She reminded him of his best principles and understood them, and it's clear that her words got through to him in his final days with his rejection of dark magic and urging their sons to break the cycle. For Viren, Harrow's words likewise got through to him, with Viren becoming a better father for the first time since Soren and Claudia's early childhood and in what he sacrificed to save Katolis: his own refusal of dark magic, and acknowledging that like Harrow, he should've been a not just a king, but "a servant".

But in classic TDP fashion, someone believing that you can be better, or believing that someone makes you better, is not always a good thing:

Aaravos believed in humans when all the other elves and dragons thought we were worthless, stupid, dirty animals.

So he gave us magic.

Aaravos' 'belief' in humanity, and in Claudia by extension ("But no matter: your daughter is far more powerful"), is the foundation of her loyalty to him. Claudia is extremely receptive to how other people view her, which is why she's coarse about judgement and tries to maintain a positive internalized viewpoint ("But I'm not evil. It's me. You know me") of her own self and actions, even while routinely acknowledging that she's doing increasingly "vile, dangerous" things. Likewise, her belief in Aaravos begins with faith that he can save her father, evolves into gratitude for what he's given humanity (because until S6, dark magic is always routinely a positive net force to her), and is bolstered by her own feedback loop with a Viren who's trying his best. His assertion that "you do anything for your child never the other way around" while trying to spare her helps her justify Aaravos' actions, since he's acting on behalf of Leola, and therefore whatever he does is "necessary. Like my dad."

Conversely for elf-human relations, we have Callum and Rayla. Callum is also a burgeoning mage, and Rayla is also important to his magical journey, providing a listening ear and occasionally some sound advice. The S2 novelization goes so far as to say that Rayla is the first person to tell Callum

 “I believe in you.” Callum blushed. No one had ever said those words to him before, or at least not that he remembered.

And we see her routinely express faith in her friends, particularly Callum and Ezran, even when the odds are stacked against them, other people disagree (Runaan, Lujanne, Sol Regem), or they don't have faith in themselves:

She has faith that Katolis and her boys won't be like the Silvergrove when she returns (and they aren't). She does her best to believe in Ezran in 1x09, or at least not be a jerk even if she can't totally take him at his word due to her own skepticism. She's another elf who also believes that humans are capable and strong, and sometimes even more so than elves:

The human kicked dirt at her, and Rayla scraped at her eyes, angry—infuriated, even. Humans were frustrating. Humans were clever. Humans could do anything, they could be anything, they could take their own fates and change them—

Which is, of course, the opposite thread of belief that Aaravos actually holds, which is that his pawns will always make his parts and that Callum playing into his hands and being nothing more than a pawn is inevitable. Callum also returns this in 5x01, citing "If she didn't tell me, she had a good reason," and that knowledge/belief is all that needs to not only set Rayla free, but reassert that she doesn't owe him an explanation until she wants to give one free of obligation and guilt — as she eventually does, changing her fate bit by bit at a time.

So does being believed in make you better? Overall TDP says that it can if you let it and work consistently towards it, but it does depend on what the belief is. We'll also loop back around this idea when we talk more about TDP's thread of having faith another section from now, but moving forwards to:

Belief as a Continuing Thread

The distinction between "this person believing in me" as an act of betterment versus "belief as a continuing thread," is, in my head, a difference of actively working towards living up to person's belief in you versus that belief forming a continual relationship foundation of stability and stagnation rather than change. In other words, belief as a continuing thread probably bleeds in the most into worldviews—I am a good person because I do Y, I stand by your side because of X, and as long as those beliefs built on actions aren't disrupted, they are maintained.

We see this perhaps encapsulated most in Terry and Claudia's relationship. Terry's belief in Claudia isn't about any sense of making her better ("Look at her sleeping, she's just perfect"—4x04) or guiding her down a specific path ("I can't [tell you what to do]"—6x04). He's not trying to change her, but instead, it's the foundation of his support for her. His belief in Claudia is built into their dynamic and why he is so loyal to her, as he explains in 4x09:

I've seen you do a lot of awful things, dark magic things. But I always believed in you because you had a reason.

As touched on here in a meta more about Terry overall, this is also why he doesn't like Aaravos in S6, because Aaravos' reasoning isn't love but revenge, and that's Terry's internal tipping point, even if Claudia can't recognize the distinction yet.

Of course, we can also see these continuing bonds of belief be severed. Unlike how Viren was trying to live up to what Harrow thought of him, or Harrow with Sarai, Viren and Kpp'Ar's relationship was a much more outright, direct mentor-mentee dynamic, Viren even following in Kpp'Ar's footsteps to become high mage:

I turned on him. My mentor, my... my teacher. A man who believed in me when... when I was nothing, and spent years of his life invested years of his life helping me become... what I became.

It's worth noting, I think, therefore, that while Viren does have clear regret over coining Kpp'Ar, he does still describe the act as necessary to Lissa in the past and in recounting the event in the letter. It is only after he takes Lissa's tears by force that we see him directly agree with her assessment of him being a monster. We also see Viren's continuing search for importance ("When I was nothing" / "I thought you were going to be something special, something important!" / "You're a nobody" to Kpp'Ar) parallel Claudia's views on dark magic as well ("We weren't born with magic, we were born with nothing" / "Humans had nothing").

This continuing thread of belief is also what allows Rayla to bring people back from being 'monsters' in a way with Esmeray and Runaan later on in the season through her faith that she can get through to them and help them, and that they're capable of receiving help.

In a similar vein of disillusionment of Viren and Kpp'Ar, though, we also see Soren come to this realization (and then back again, in some ways, in S6) with Viren:

I've known Viren longer than anyone here. I mean, because he's my dad, but it took me a long time to understand who my dad really is. And it was hard to see, because I really... I really looked up to him. He's smart, and the way he talks, you really believe that he's a good person, that everything he does is to protect his family, his home, or all of humanity. He makes you think that as long as you do what he says, you must be doing the right thing. Even when he asks you to do something bad. Something evil. So the truth is, someone who wants you to do horrible things and convinces you that they're good, that's a villain. My dad is a villain. And he's only gonna get more powerful, and the more powerful he gets, the more people will listen to him, and believe him, and follow him.

We see the continuing thread of Soren not trying to change Viren or Viren trying to change for him (in arc 1), but of Soren understandably believing in his father and Viren's judgement precisely because of things Soren perceives as lacking in himself ("I know I'm not the smartest / Dad is so smart, so I figured there must be a good reason") and because as a child / young adult, you're inclined to believe whatever your parent tells you at more or less face value. That said, Soren does talk specifically about how belief in others can intersect with belief in leadership, which is interesting in its own way. So let's move onto:

Belief as Faith / Having Faith In Our Leaders

Having faith in our leaders is something we've touched on already, albeit indirectly. Sarai believed in Harrow to be "a champion of love and justice"; Soren and Claudia believed at different intervals that their father would be a good leader. We see this reflected in Janai and Amaya's relationship predominantly in season 6:

Do you think I can lead my people after everything that's happened, all the mistakes I've made?

We see this similar theme in how Opeli and Corvus interact with Ezran in S3, where they support him as a monarch, specifically, as well as a person:

Ezran and Janai are also characters who tend to have a lot of faith in others, as well, which is part of their leadership. Janai has "patience and faith" that they can rebuild, that the architect can make her amends, etc. Ezran routinely has steadfast faith in his loved ones and their ability likewise to be better (not executing Viren, setting Soren and Claudia free, "She'll know what to do" / "she's alive, and wherever she is, she loves you too" about Rayla, "I think he would want you to, if you wanted to" about Callum and Harrow, etc). Even with Zym in season two:

But we'll get it, no matter how impossible it seems. We believe in ourselves, and we're not giving up, are we?

which is also a sentiment Janai extends to her people:

So we can have faith in others, in ourselves ("I will learn magic. It's who I am"), in our leaders, some prejudiced worldviews ("No, humans are liars" / "Are they really your friends, or are they just taking advantage of you?") and have all those things intermingle. We've talked briefly about disillusionment in threads of continued belief, and failing to live up to the beliefs / views of how others see us, or when belief breaks. I want to close this out by talking about Runaan and Rayla, briefly, namely:

This fits in this section (in my head) precisely because Runaan is Rayla's leader as well as her father, which is a unique dynamic that only Viren-Soren&Claudia get close to replicating, of being believed in by someone who also very explicitly tells you what to do (hi Claudia with Aaravos). Runaan lived in one reality (Rayla can be an assassin) and then immediately went to the other (she never will be) with no in between.

Meanwhile, we have characters like Ellis and Callum, who are able to acknowledge other people's realities even if they can't (for a variety of reasons) fully commit to them and sit somewhere more in the middle, which I think is interesting, particularly when it likewise comes to changing plans or acknowledging other realms/perspectives of reality.

And if I go any further into those weeds I'll start talking about TDP's whole emphasis on trust that is twice as long as this meta already is, I'm sure, so with that I'll wrap things up (sort of).

Conclusion, Kind Of

This doesn't have a real conclusion because this is so sprawling with like, a hopefully but not necessarily coherent common thread, but basically:

When you act in alignment with how others see you, this can help you live up to your 'full potential' — good or bad. And if it's bad, that might be a time to break their continued thread of faith in you, or you towards them, in order to be something truly better and new. All relationships, positive or negative, depend on faith/belief because they depend on reliability and expectation, and when those things are broken, this can either transform a relationship for the better or demolish it completely.

Are you having fun? Was this fun?

Anyway can't wait for S7 to ruin my life with Terry-Claudia, Callum-Ezran, and Callum-Rayla's threads of belief in particular.

—Dragons out

[moghedien]

It’s just…Shadowheart has no memories but has very intense feelings about Selune and lines she knows to use talk shit about her from the beginning of the game

So I need us all to acknowledge that post game Selunite Shadowheart was still brainwashed to be a Selune hating machine for the past four decades and that changed a week ago and even if she is still not actively antagonist to Selune and maybe even trying to be a genuine devotee, she is still going to have some very strange misconceptions and feelings and sometimes those are gonna slip out without her meaning to or realizing.

Like a “moonwitch” or two is gonna pop out of that girls mouth while she’s trying to talk positively about Selune at some point, we have to acknowledge this and tell her she’s a good girl anyway

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #23: What the Future Holds

Prompt: on cloud nine || Master Post || On AO3 (coming in October)

A/N: Massive spoilers for the first half of Dawntrail.

---

It is not until after the ascension of Wuk Lamat and Koana as the new Dawnservants of Tuliyollal, and the first botanists from across the salt arrive with a plethora of seeds and saplings to discover which will thrive in the sapphire shadows of Ja Tiika, that the events of the past moons finally settle in the minds of Bakool Ja Ja.

With hindsight, he is not proud of his actions, even if at the time he believed they were necessary to secure the future of Mamook and her people. He was cowardly and dishonorable, and a fool besides to release Valigarmanda from his prison. Soon enough he must gather the courage to apologize to the men of his retinue for his callousness, to Wuk Lamat for his derision, to the Yok Huy for his arrogance, and await their judgment.

But he will do so with the knowledge that a real man, a real leader, accepts the consequences of his actions.

His mother and a group of their farmers are deep in discussion with the Sharlayan botanists. There are tentative plans in place for which seeds will they need to plant over the coming seasons, observing which will thrive and which will wither and which may end up to invasive for safe cultivation. Bakool Ja Ja the Mighty does not even pretend to understand it; Bakool Ja Ja the Mystic is itching to get his hands on one of those Sharlayan books about aetherology as it relates to agriculture. But today Bakool Ja Ja is needed elsewhere, and his mother smiles at him and has him lean down so she may kiss the cheek of the Mighty and then the Mystic before she returns to the meeting and he leaves the autarch’s palace.

He thinks that his mother has not stopped smiling since the Rite of Ascension ended. He does not remember that meeting room ever sounding so lively. He does not know if the walls of the palace have ever had hope echo through them.

Bakool Ja Ja passes his father on his way through the city streets. The autarch is overseeing repairs to some of the houses, and Zereel Ja nods to him as he walks by, even offering the shadow of a smile. His relationship with his father is awkward, to say the least, but Zereel Ja…Zereel Ja is trying. Bakool Ja Ja is not the only one who must relearn a great many things, and while he loves and resents his father in equal measure for the pressures placed upon him, Zereel Ja acknowledges he has erred and has let go of (most of) his pride, accepting the assistance of the Dawnservants to revitalize Mamook.

He has always had a good relationship with his mother, but the prospect of a healthier one with his father is…odd. Odd, but good.

It is in Skydeep Cenote that he breaks.

Oh, Bakool Ja Ja has broken many times in the past moons, not the least of which was in this very spot before Wuk Lamat and her entourage in revealing the shame of the Mamool Ja. But as he gently, reverently lifts one of the many urns that litter the waters of the cenote and sets it on the stone pier, to be carefully packed for transport to a proper mausoleum, both the Mighty and the Mystic together realize he will never have to place an urn within these waters ever again.

He has the sense to first ensure the urn is safely on the pier, even as his breath rattles in his chest. Then he steps around the crates he has already filled, each with four urns nestled among dried grasses and shredded najool leaves and cloud-soft alpaca wool, and walks to the doors of the inner cenote. He leans against the wall just next to the doors, staring out across the great cavern, and slides down to sit on the floor with a thud. The Mighty gasps for breath and the Mystic’s arm trembles violently.

No more dead brothers and sisters and cousins.

No more lost generations who could have been warriors or artisans or scholars.

No more children unable to escape their eggs, no more potential healthy children forsaken for the infinitesimal chance of a blessing sibling instead.

No more love matches broken for a betrothal between Boonewa and Hoobigo, no more resentful brides and grooms, no more mourning mothers and fathers, no more desperation that surely this egg will make it to maturity, no more wails of grief echoing through their dying city, no more potters having to fill their shelves with funerary urns, no more undertakers processing through Mamook westward to Skydeep escorting wivre-pulled carts rattling with filled urns.

No more no more no more no more no more no more.

The Mystic cannot cry; Boonewa eyes are simply not capable of the action. Hoobigo eyes are, however, and the Mighty weeps enough for them both, even as the Mystic rests his forehead against his brother’s temple. They shake, and hiccup, and cry, and cry, and cry.

For the first time in Bakool Ja Ja’s life, the tears are not from stress or grief.

They are from deep, overwhelming joy.

The past cannot be fixed, and the ghosts of his people’s children will haunt him until his last day. But his people have a future. His people will have happiness, and health, and one day soon, there will be children running through the streets of Mamook. There will be still be sorrow, because sorrow is a part of life, but there will be happiness at last, and laughter, and love, and hope.

Bakool Ja Ja weeps and as he does, his heart lightens until it soars.

[rey-jake-therapist]

SPOILERS EPISODE 7

I'm so, so, SO scared of what Sauron will make Celebrimbor endure to make him say where the Nine are. We know he will stop at nothing to get this information. And Celebrimbor will resist because he knows that Sauron is sure he's following the right path (deceiving himself, in his own words), and thus impossible to reason with. So he will resist, but somehow Sauron will realize that he didn't hide the rings somewhere but trusted someone with them. But how much torture will he inflict to Celebrimbor before he comes to this conclusion and chases the person who ran away with the rings? I dread to think of the pain this man will endure before Sauron understands he's beating the wrong bush 🙁

Will he be surprised to see Galadriel's the one who carries the rings? Does he even know she's here? I was surprised that there wasn't any indication about that in episode 7. I didn't expect him to do anything to free her from Adar (I predicted a while ago that she would be a bait for Elrond, not Sauron), but it was a tad disappointing to see no acknowledgement of her presence. Maybe it's meant to surprise him, after all.

And Mirdania.... She was really just a plot device, wasn't she? 😅Their last interaction was interesting, to say the least. Twice, we saw Sauron touch Mirdania; the first time it was pretty obvious that it was because she reminded him of Galadriel, I'm much less sure about the second time.... It was probably just manipulation. But during their last interaction, she touched his arm and he remained frozen, annoyed even by this unsolicited gesture. This shows alone how much in control of everything and everyone Sauron wants to be. He had no affection for this girl, so he didn't want her to touch him. He even pushed the cynism to the point of promising herr she would be "rewarded" for the good job she had done, knowing perfectly that he would soon get rid of her.

The way he sacrificed her really showed how dispensable Mirdania (and everybody else) was, to him. And let's not forget the timing!! Galadriel's nearby and will soon meet him for an epic fight. Does he know she's here, it's unsure but it screams "my ex is back in town, it was fun but girl you have to go 😂

Charlie Vickers said that to Sauron, people were just little bugs. I guess he holds a few people, such as Celebrimbor and Galadriel, to higher standards, because he can play these will power games he likes so much with them. They make the game interesting because they're strong minded and will fight back (even if it pisses him off when they do!). All the others are just insects he can crush without a second thought.

This dialogue about Morgoth was very enlightening, to understand how Sauron's mind work, and why he's the way he is now. I loved that the show didn't ask us to sympathize for him; as Celebrimbor pointed out, he chose to submit him (and "countless of others") to the same suffering he was himself subjected to. We saw first hand in season 1 how he could have decided to change his ways, the opportunity Galadriel gave him to take another path, but decided repeat the old patterns instead.

For the audience, it will be heartbreaking to see him slowly but surely sinking deeper into the darkness, because despite all his evil deeds, we can't help but liking him (well at least I can't! 😩), and we know the goal he pursues isn't bad in itself.... It's his methods, and his insistance in wanting to control absolutely everything and everyone that ruins any good intention he could have regarding Middle-Earth....

[petertingle-yipyip]

STRANGER (vii) - KAZ BREKKER

tags: @beekeepingageissome @shadowzena43 @nikfigueiredo @mp-littlebit @starmansirius @hadesnumber1daughter @directioner5life @strvngestark @hostilityghost @ofmenanduhhhwellmen // previously // next

Pairing: Kaz x Davina Rollins (enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 6,331

Summary: Davina and her Snakes take a chance on a job that seems simple enough. But being the Princess of the Barrel is never simple. At least there’s an ally of sorts.

You didn’t know how long you avoided the Dregs after those few days. You didn’t step foot in the Crow Club. You didn’t even look at the building. You took to entering the Poisoned Rook from a side door just so you didn’t have to see it.

You ignored the feeling of being watched from the shadows, didn’t look up to check rooftops. There was no mistaking the feeling of the Wraith watching, but you wouldn’t give in and acknowledge it. Instead, you kept your hood up and your head down.

You didn’t even reach out to the Dregs when you found the envelope on your desk at the Rook. Melli said someone brought it to the doorman and asked that it got to you, but she didn’t see who it was and they didn’t give a name.

You recognized the handwriting easily enough, so when you opened it and counted 800 kruge, you felt a new twist in your stomach. Kaz took care of Jesper’s debt. You didn’t know if it was for your benefit or Jesper’s, the former was more likely, but you didn’t care to ask. A debt paid was a debt paid, no matter where the kruge came from.

So you found Jesper’s debt form, signed it as paid, and filed it away. The deal was the deal, and you didn’t need to revisit it.

You were cleaning up some things in your office before you intended on leaving. Kol was on the door - there seemed to be less ruckus when he was - and you were waiting for Melli to arrive to switch charge. When she finally entered, her cheeks were flush as if she’d been running and her eyes were alight with excitement.

“You look like you enjoyed a good tumble.” You laughed as you pulled your cloak off the back of your chair.

“No, no.” She waved you off, though her smile stayed. “I got a tip on a job.”

Your brows raised. “Tell me.”

“It’s some sculpture, fits on a desk or an end table.” She nodded, creating a vague sized box with her hands. “He said it was taken and sold to a Merchant.”

“What kind of statue? Valuable?” Maybe you’d lift it and sell it on your own.

“Seems more sentimental than anything. He said it was from some Grisha tale. Some legendary Bonesmith?” She shrugged. “But it’s a three piece figure. A stag, some sea whip and a bird.”

“Go get Kol. Have Nik take over the door.”

She was gone in a flash so you sat back in your chair while you waited. You blew out a sigh as you dropped down. So much for leaving early. Melli returns quickly with Kol in tow and shuts the door.

“Kol, what do you know of the Bonesmith?” You asked. If there was no truth to the alleged Grisha tale, then there was no point pursuing the job at all.

“The Bonesmith?” He repeated. “He’s an old legend, a Saint. Sankta Ilya in Chains. He was Materialki but his story says he put a child back together that was cut in half.”

“What connection does he have to a stag, a sea whip, and a bird?”

“It’s said that he created three amplifiers in those forms. Why?”

You nodded to Melli.

Eagerly, she began to explain. “A man, said he’s Ravkan and was in some sort of robes, said that Karl Dryden has taken possession of a statue that belongs in one of the Churches. It’s of a stag, sea whip, and bird.”

“Dryden cares for Grisha legend?” Your brows raised.

“I doubt it.” She shook her head. “Dryden’s new to the Council so he may just have been looking for something old and pretty.”

She patted her pockets to search and pulled a paper out of her coat. She unfolded it and handed it to you.

You motioned Kol closer.

“That’s Morozova’s Stag.” He pointed to the dear in the center, sporting massive and intricate antlers. “The sea whip, Rusalye.” He traced the length of the snakelike creature around the stag’s feet. “And the firebird.” He tapped the large bird above the others.

“So we’re being asked to nab a potentially very old and potentially very delicate depiction of Grisha legend.” You put the paper down. “How much?”

“Ten thousand kruge.” Melli answered, and the excitement she’s been jittering with now made sense.

“A Ravkan monk has ten thousand sitting around?”

“I saw it myself.” She nodded enthusiastically.

“And it’s all real?”

“Sankta Ilya’s power is the greatest ever known to Grisha, and some churches receive more tithe than others.” Kol added. “And the currency conversion may have helped. But for all we know, that church drained its coffers to get that statue back.”

“Isn’t Ravka broke?” You turned to him. “I’ve heard rumors of defaulting on the loans from Kerch.”

Kol wrinkled his nose and waved a hand. You almost laughed.

“We’d need intel on where Dryden keeps it.” You said pointedly to Melli. “And we’ll need the layout of his house, security measures, occupants.”

“I can scout tonight.”

“It needs to be a small crew. Who would you take?”

“Us.” Melli gestured to the three people in the room. “Would you want anyone else?”

“No…” You looked between your friends. “No, this is fine. I’ll look into floor plans of the Dryden estate. We move on this tomorrow night. The sooner we do this, the less likely someone else can take it out from under us.”

“Someone has to send word to the Ravkan that we’ll do it.” Melli added.

“I’ll go.” Kol offered.

“Melli, bring paper. I want you to note what you can and we’ll compare it to what I can gather.”

“Who are you going to?”

“Do you really need to ask that? There’s one man in the Barrel that knows everything.”

“Be careful going back there.” Kol said earnestly and you nodded. He returned the gesture before turning to Melli. “Tell me what he looked like.” 

You shooed the two away while they discussed the man’s appearance. You waited a moment, looking down at the drawing, and sighed. There was only one person that could get you the plans of the Dryden estate that night, otherwise you’d have to wait till the morning. You cursed quietly and reached for the envelope of 800 kruge that you had shoved to the back of a drawer.

You hid it in the main pocket of your cloak and you fit it in place around your shoulders. You pulled your hood up and headed to the one place you dreaded, that you hated arguably more than the Emerald Palace.

The Crow Club.

Luckily for you, Jesper was manning the door. He beamed at your approach and nodded, tipping his hat in the process.

“Welcome back.” He said kindly as you shifted your hood back enough to show your face.

“I need to speak with him.” You said plainly.

“With the boss? Yeah, I’ll take you.” He offered you his arm and you frowned slightly. He shook his head with a small chuckle and gestured for you to follow. He mumbled something about you being as proud and stubborn as ever, though it was intended as a friendly jab.

You resisted the urge to hide in your hood as you went through the Club. Your eyes started forward, trained on a spot between Jesper’s shoulder, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t feel the other eyes turning on you. Partons and Dregs alike seemed to stop what they were doing to watch you pass.

Jesper took you to a small staircase in the back corner. You hadn’t even noticed it your first time in. He tapped on the door quickly before poking his head in. You could just faintly hear the conversation.

“Hey, Boss. You’ve got a visitor.” Jesper said quickly. “Hi, Inej.”

“Hello, Jesper.”’ The Suli girl answered.

“Tell them to come back later.” Kaz said quickly.

“I think you’re gonna wanna take this.” Jesper tried.

“I’m busy.”

“Are you though?”

“Who is it?” Inej chimed in.

Jesper leaned back to look at you, but you noticed the positioning of his body kept you out of sight from those in the other room. Your fingers drummed along the metal railing as you glanced around the Club.

Jesper smiled at you when you finally looked back and you just shrugged. “A friend.” He popped his head back in. “Your friend.” He emphasized, likely towards Kaz.

You returned your eyes to the Club floor and your gaze met an unwelcome set of eyes already on you.

Per Haskell.

Your stomach pitched and you rubbed a hand against your chest, feeling the hard material of the blade under your cloak. If Haskell took even a step towards you, you’d slice off the pound of flesh you were owed, despite the riot it would cause. Before anything could get to that point, you put a hand on Jesper’s shoulder.

“Forget it.” You said quickly. He turned to face you and his expression shifted to confusion, either to your sudden decision change or your own expression. “Thank you for trying. I’ll figure it out some other way.”

“Davina?” Kaz asked. Your eyes darted to the doorway, something in you reacting to your name coming from his voice, but you looked back to Jesper with a pointed expression. You were quietly begging any Saint listening that he understood you wanted out.

“Hang on. What…” Jesper grabbed your arm before he looked over your shoulder. You gently tried to pull your arm away but you saw him understand. “I’ll walk you out then.”

He made a point to come around you and stand between you and the rest of the Club floor.

“Thank you.” You sighed. You wouldn’t say you needed the escort, but when Jesper offered you his hand, you accepted it. Admittedly, it was a comfort to know you’d have one.

You were halfway down the short steps when Kaz called you back.

“Wait.” He said and Jesper immediately stopped. “Bring her in.”

You cursed quietly as Jesper turned you back to Kaz’s office. Inej was still inside and she offered you a quick nod. You returned the gesture, even intended to smile at the girl, but the fight to keep the memory of the hallucinations away was at the forefront of your mind.

Jesper gave your hand a slight squeeze before he left. You only knew he was gone when the door closed behind him. You were staring blankly at the floor while your mind tried to find some sense of reality.

“Davina?” Inej asked carefully. You couldn’t figure out if it was concern or distrust in her voice. “Are you alright?”

You said nothing. You couldn’t say anything. No matter what words you tried to summon, nothing came out of your mouth. Your voice had left you.

She came closer and her hand landed lightly on your arm. The new touch seemed to snap you back to focus and your eyes met hers. One look and you understood it had been concern in her words a moment ago. You smiled sadly and nodded in thanks. You cleared your throat and pulled your shoulders back, finding your control again as Inej’s hand fell away.

“Right, well.” You said and drew your hood back. You found Kaz already looking at you, that cursed unreadable expression on his features as he leaned on the desk’s surface. “What do you know about the Dryden estate?”

“The newest Merchant?” Kaz answered with a noncommittal shrug. “Not much worth knowing.”

“But do you know the layout of the house? I need the floor plans.”

“Do you?” He stood tall, eyeing you carefully. “What for?”

“Can you only ask questions or do you answer them?” You shot back.

Inej chuckled quietly and Kaz glared at her for a moment, though the look lacked any real heat.

“How much?” You sighed.

He looked back at you and raised his brows in quiet question.

“You either have the plans or you know who does. I don’t have time to run around to offices and wait for requests to process. You also refuse to say anything remotely helpful without incentive. So I ask again, how much?”

“What do you need them for?” He asked instead and you had to refrain from rolling your eyes.

“A job, clearly.”

“On Dryden?”

“No, on his neighbor.” That time you did roll your eyes. “Yes, Dryden, you insufferable man.”

He smirked slightly and sat back in his chair. He lifted his cane and spun it, thoughtfully examining the crow’s head. “Insufferable.” He repeated to himself.

“I have other, less kind words if you don’t like that one.” You muttered.

“Dryden doesn’t have much.” He said instead. “Do you have someone that can pick locks?”

“Well enough.” You nodded. You were no expert, but you could handle most basic locks.

Kaz muttered to himself, some sort of mockery of your answer, as he rummaged through a drawer. You glanced and saw Inej had disappeared. You had to applaud her light footedness. When you looked back at Kaz, he handed you something. You accepted the small case and flipped the top, exposing a set of lock picks.

“Well enough doesn’t mean I need these.” You slammed it shut and handed it back to him.

He leaned back in his chair, clearly expressing he had no intent of taking them back.

“The locks on the windows are simple enough, but if you don’t have picks, you won’t get anywhere.”

“I don’t want your charity.” You snapped.

“Don’t call it charity then.” He shrugged. “Call it a gift.”

You groaned and pulled your arm back to throw the case at the wall near him. He didn’t flinch but before you could let the case go, you were tapped with a rolled up paper. You flinched and gripped the case tighter, planning to use it as a weapon, but you relaxed when you saw it was just Inej. You hadn’t even seen the woman come back.

“The Dryden Estate.” She said simply, shaking the paper at you. Hesitantly, you dropped the pick case down your sleeve and took it.

“Thank you…” You said carefully. “Why are you helping me?”

“What Haskell did to you last time you were here was beyond wrong. I wouldn’t wish that type of treatment on anyone. I hope this can make up for it.”

“You’re helping me to try and make amends?”

“I’m helping you to keep us on fair terms.” She corrected. 

“You don’t like me all that much, do you?” You teased. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Kaz frown more noticeable than he usually did. Or maybe his usual expression was closer to a scowl.

“No.” She said flatly and with finality.

“Why is that?”

“Davina.” Kaz warned. You waved him off but conceded to his underlying request.

“You’re right, Wraith.” You nodded to her. “I am my father’s daughter, and I’ve come to terms with that. I know that makes me horrid. Wretched. Unbearable. All these horrible things, and all his fault. Despite that, I think you and I will come out of all of this as good friends.” You wagged a finger at her.

“We have a common enemy.” She said instead and you pouted slightly, just to be a pain. “We should focus on that.”

“Do we?” You nodded and looked back to Kaz. Your head tilted, falling slightly against your shoulder, and you raised your brows slightly. “She knows, then?”

“No.” He answered tightly. He was scanning your expression, piecing together what you were planning as you straightened with a small, mischievous smirk. While it was clear he wanted to know what you were lifting from Dryden, he was also working to figure out if you’d tell Inej his secret.

You considered it, just to push your limit with him and see how far he’d really let you go. But at that moment, you liked having your limbs attached and your blood in your veins. Some other time, you decided. 

“I thought if you’d tell any of them, you’d tell her.” You shook your head. “But I suppose it’s fair. I haven’t told Melli yet, either.”

“Enough.” Kaz said firmly and stood. You sighed inwardly but kept his gaze, standing a little taller and giving a small shrug, as if to say it was his move. “I’ll walk you out.”

You made a noise of satisfaction to yourself and gestured for him to walk ahead of you. With the plans tucked under your arm and hidden by your cloak, you nodded in thanks to Inej and followed Kaz out.

“You know…” You began as you fell into stride with him. “You shouldn’t pay off his debts.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said plainly.

You pulled the envelope from your cloak’s pocket and handed it to him. You didn’t look over as he took it. “What makes you think this was me?”

“I know your handwriting.” You rolled your eyes to yourself. “I hope you don’t think this makes us equal in any way.”

“Why would I care about that?” He sounded bored but there was an honest inquiry there. It almost seemed as if he wasn’t sure why you two would need to be equal.

“The night at the Exchange.” You said tightly. “You may have helped last time I was here and your may have paid off your friend’s debt, but that doesn’t mean I won’t hold a grudge for a while longer.”

“And if I have a grudge of my own?”

“I know you do. Like I said, I know who you see in my place… How did you know about the credit? As far as I knew, only Nina knew.”

“He confessed while you were unconscious, said it was his fault you were there.”

He said it so simply, as if it was just something that happened sometimes. The sun rose, the tides came and went, you fell unconscious due to poisoning. You shivered slightly and while you didn’t return the gesture, Kaz peeked over at you.

“Humor me and take it.” You said carefully, accidentally having locked eyes with Haskell again. “Consider it payment for the plans and the picks.”

Haskell stood and you saw two glasses in his hands. Instantly, and regrettably, you put yourself a step behind Kaz. He stood a bit straighter but said nothing. Your eyes remained forward, hands folded behind you, and your hood down. As much as you wanted to hide in it, you wouldn’t appear a coward with Haskell coming towards you and Kaz. Once he was close enough, Kaz put his cane to the side to stop you, coincidentally keeping you behind him.

He looked past Haskell, who he was looking at you couldn’t tell among the crowd, and did a quick series of hand gestures. Satisfied with the response, he faced down his boss.

“Well, well, isn’t this a sight?” Haskell announced, though only a few heads turned. For that, you were grateful.

“Sir.” You nodded politely and Kaz made a small noise of amusement.

“What are you doing with this one, Boy?” He asked Kaz.

“Exchange of services, Sir.” Kaz answered with the same manners you used and you said nothing. “Just showing our friend good manners on her way out.”

“Services, eh? Yes, you needed a good tumble.” Haskell said thoughtfully, scratching his graying beard with a nod. “Bit upright lately, but I’m sure she fixed you right up.”

You had a million protests ready but Kaz reached for Haskell’s shoulder and turned him away. You opened your mouth to say something but another hand was on your back to guide you away. You reached for your hidden blade but saw it was only Jesper. You followed without question, relaxing only slightly, but you still looked back over your shoulder.

Kaz met your eyes and offered a sharp nod. You knew what he had done, he did on purpose. He took Haskell away and had Jesper ensure you left the Crow Club safely. He didn’t have to. You knew as well as he had to, yet he did it anyway. You couldn’t understand why.

Early the next morning, you and your friends planned the job. Melli’s notes aligned with what you had gotten from Kaz, moreso from Inej if you thought about it. Your trio spent most of the morning bouncing ideas off each other until the plan was set. You’d get the windows open and slip inside with Melli. Kol would keep lookout and knock out the footmen. Melli would be responsible for carrying the statue out and Kol would go with her to deliver it to the Ravkan. It seemed simple enough, until it all went to hell.

You weren’t naive enough to think Melli was the only one that had access to the job. Someone else very well could’ve heard or was even offered the job while you were all discussing. You were, however, foolish enough to believe that once you confirmed with the Ravkan, it would’ve been yours and yours alone. But it seemed the Dime Lions had a different idea.

You and Melli carefully put the figure in her shoulder bag, padded with a few extra shirts, and were heading back out the window. It was a second story window but a garden lattice was climbing up the wall beside it. You had scaled it like a ladder and were allowing Melli down first. Kol was waiting at the bottom and you saw the slight flex of his fingers to keep Melli calm.

You were seated halfway out the window, watching your lieutenant make her way down. The picks fell out your sleeve and into your hand as if automatic and you were readying to climb out and relock the window. Once her feet hit the ground, you were shifting to swing your leg out when you felt the impact of a bullet against your side. You opted to leave your hood, wearing the Grisha made vest instead with a scarf wrapped across the lower half of your face. 

The bullet threw your balance sideways and you gripped the window frame to keep from falling. You turned your eyes towards the room and saw no one, but the faint light from the hall allowed you to see the smoke from the fired gun that was retreating. Quickly, you turned over your shoulder and saw Kol and Melli gesturing for you to hurry. You waved them off, hoping they’d stick to their jobs instead of waiting around for you, and let the picks slide back into your sleeve, pulled a blade from your boot, and dropped back into the house.

You landed in a crouch near the window and felt the precursor of a bruise forming on your ribs. Quiet curses fell from your lips as you moved along the wall, staying in a low crouch and keeping contact with the wall. Your plan now was to get that door shut and barricaded then hurry out the window. You were only a few feet away when the door swung open, nearly knocking you off your feet. You swallowed your yelp of surprise and pushed yourself further against the wall.

“I saw her at the window, Boss.” One of the men said.

Three men crossed the room and went straight for the window. You didn’t need them to turn to recognize your father among them. You tried to make yourself a bit flatter as you crept around the open door. You were nearly out when a fourth man appeared and yanked you to your feet.

You kept a firm grip on your knife as he shoved you back into the room.

“Ah.” Your father smiled at you. “There she is.”

“Why are you here?” You asked. A simple enough question that you didn’t necessarily care to hear an answer to, but it would buy time. All you could think was whether or not Kol and Melli were able to get away.

He shrugged and stepped closer, yanking the scarf off your face. You had half a mind to bite him.

“I heard whispers of someone coming for Dryden tonight so I offered my help.” He explained and the arrogance in his voice made you sick. You wrinkled your nose in disgust but he didn’t seem to notice. “Didn’t think you were up for it thought, little one.”

“Have your guy let me go and we’ll see what I’m really up for, Papa.” You instigated but the man behind you kicked out your knee, forcing you to the ground and keeping you there with a hand pushing down on your shoulder.

“You see, Davi?” Your father knelt in front of you. You kept eye contact but you had yo force yourself not to spit in his face. “You’re not meant for all of this.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” You shook your head, feeling the handle of the blade in your hand. “I’ve stood against you twice already. I’ve gotten away from Dirtyhands and the Dregs. This isn’t your kingdom anymore.”

“Even if you could take it, you wouldn’t know what to do with it.” He almost sounded apologetic, like when he would explain why you couldn’t have another dessert. It made your blood boil.

“Why do you think I’ve been making friends in the Barrel?” You mocked. “My Snakes, Heartrenders, even a few Dregs.”

“Davi, Davi, Davi.” He said in disappointment. “You always were a stubborn one.”

“I believe they say I’m pigheaded, just like you.”

He waved you off.

“What’d you come here for, little one?” He asked, surveying the room for what he would perceive as valuable. His eyes came back to you when he saw nothing.

That, of course, was because the statue was already gone. The rest of the commodities in the room were of basica, Merchant luxury. Nothing worth enough to take.

When you said nothing, you saw your father’s hand tighten into a fist. If you could get him to hit you, you could start an entire brawl with all four of them. The chaos would be enough for you to bolt.

“Don’t you see?” You instigated. “If you can’t see what’s worth it in this room, then your reign really is over.” You laughed. “You’re from an older regime, Papa. Dirtyhands and I, we’re the ones who are going to hold the power in the Barrel soon enough. Once we do, you best believe we are burning the Emerald Palace to the ground first. And I am asking every single Saint that you and your heir are inside.”

“You’d wish death on your brother?” His eyebrows raised.

“He’s no brother of mine. You made sure of that.” You spat at his feet. “I share my mother’s face and I share your last name, but know that we are not the same. Everything that has happened has been and forever will be your fault.”

That did it.

He swung his fist against your jaw and the Lion behind you let you fall to the ground. You thought it was ironic that he dared to talk down on you for forgoing your relation to his son but could so easily strike his daughter. You felt a hand on your arm to sit you back up and so you swung the blade. You didn’t stop to see who or where you connected before you hurried to your feet.

The three Dime Lions stood across from you, which meant you had cut your father, and that made you smile. With the blade firmly gripped in your hand, you threw yourself into a fight. You kept close the to men, ducking and dodging more than attacking on your own. Your nimble mvoements made them hit each other more than you, which seemed to piss them off more, especially when your blade came through with knicks and small jabs. Your father was barking orders, making his way to his feet, which served as a perfect distraction.

You kicked out at one of Lions’ backs and he fell onto your father. You ducked a swing and slashed a long line down the arm of a second. The last Lion leaned down to tackle you, his shoulder slamming into your stomach. You fumbled the blade, knicking the edge of your own plam before getting it back under control.

You were slammed hard against the wall behind you and it knocked the air out of your lungs. He had a few inches off the ground so you drove your knee up hard, hitting his stomach several times. When he finally let you fall, you drove your knife up into his stomach.

“I’d make sure there’s a Healer close when you take that out.” You warned, taking deep breaths to refill your lungs. Silence fell over the room and you wondered what your father was seeing now.

“You’re dead.” The Lion hissed. Your head cocked and you drew a second knife from your boot. You flipped his arm, swatting away the other hand he tried to grab you with, and found his tattoo. You dragged your blade across it, decapitating the lion. “I’m gonna kill you myself, you little bitch.”

“No.” You looked him in the eyes, gripping your embedded knife. When it shifted, blood leaked out and over your hands. “I don’t think you will.”

You yanked it out and he fell to his knees. You forced away the thought that you had just killed a man and faced your father, a bloodied knife in either hand while the blood of his Lion dripped off your fingers. You kept your chin high and he seemed horrified by the sight.

Good.

“His death is on you.” You pointed the blade towards him. “As is the death of any Lion that comes after me or my Snakes. As is the death of my friends.”

You crossed the room and stood toe to toe. The other Lions took a step back but your father stared you down.

“Do you even remember their names?” You asked quietly. “The two boys that were my only friends.”

He said nothing. He took a step back and raised a pistol to your forehead. Your eyes went wide with shock for a second before you regained your composure.

“You judge that I wouldn’t care if your son died, but you raise a gun to your daughter. Again.” You laughed in disbelief.

“You’re no child of mine.” He said and despite the venom in the words, there was the gloss of unshed tears in his eyes. 

“I haven’t been your child in years, Pekka.” You spat and the gun cocked.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You thought immediately of Melli and Kol, how they’d fare in the wake of your death. Kol would take over as lieutenant when Melli took your place, you were sure of it. He’d be able to keep good relations with Nina, who could convince Inej and Jesper to convince Kaz to not demolish the Snakes. It may even be enough to be true allies. The irony of the one thing you’d been hoping for being more likely after your death was not lost on you, even in your potential last moments.

And then, your thoughts drifted to Kaz. The strange relationship you two held. He hated you, that much was as certain as the sun rising in the morning, but he also (maybe) still saw you as a friend. Small moments had you convinced that there was some semblance of the boy you knew was still there, kicking and screaming and fighting to be recognized. He kept you safe at your most vulnerable. He gave you the picks, the plans, and paid off his friend’s debt to you. You thought of some of the things he said to you, brief sentences that had made a little home in the deepest corner of your mind.

She isn’t like you.

Not all memories are bad.

I never blamed you.

Was that what they meant when they said your life flashed before your eyes when you were going to die? Memories and thoughts of those you were leaving behind. You thought in passing of your mother, if she’d

mourn you, but you understood she lost you a long time ago.

A sudden clatter made your eyes shoot open. Your father was clutching a now bleeding hand and his pistol was a few feet away, laying next to a small blade. You were quick to tuck yours away and pick up the fallen, familiar blade. You examined it for a second and realized it was Inej’s.

You looked up and saw a small figure creeping through the shadows while the two remaining Lions ran to the window. You slid the blade across the floor and took up your father’s gun. You stood and pointed it at him.

When he faced you, you fired and the bullet hit his leg.

The sound made the pair of Dime Lions turn and face you. You motioned them closer and waited. You held your position as they charged until you felt the quiet presence beside you. Their steps didn’t falter. You didn’t say anything or even look towards Inej, but once she moved, so did you.

You spun to avoid an oncoming punch and shot at the man’s foot. He cried out and fell to the floor, making the other one stumble over his fallen body. You glanced at your father and saw him hauling himself to his feet so you threw the gun and it hit him in the head.

Your distraction allowed for the fallen Lion to yank your foot from under you. You yelped before you hit the ground and he was quickly moving to pin you down. You kicked a blade free from your boot and went to use it, but he caught your wrist and turned the blade away. He pushed your hand down and your blade skirted down the outside of your arm. You cried out and threw your forehead forward, hearing a satisfying crack as it connected with his nose.

Inej made quick work of the Dime Lion, leaving him groaning and holding a hand to the deepest of several knife slashes. She helped you to your feet and you gestured for her to go first as you put your blade away, following her back to the window. She lept out first with that natural grace you envied and you came out next. You were reaching for the wooden lattice when the gunshot sounded and the bullet tore through your arm.

You almost fell from the impact but you just managed to get your feet in the flimsy structure. Your other arm faltered, stinging from the long knife wound, but you refused to let go. You clumsily got to the bottom and she grabbed your hand to pull you with her.

When you two finally got back to the Barrel, you got her to take a pause in an alley. You practically collapsed against the wall and slid to the floor with a thud. You reached for your torn sleeve and noticed how much blood was still on your hands.

Not all of it was yours and it was almost enough to make you sick. You knew you’d end up killing someone sooner or later, but that didn’t seem to make the first time any easier.

You forced yourself to focus and pulled your torn sleeve until it came off. You awkwardly wrapped it around the long slash until Inej came over quietly and took over.

“Why were you there?” You asked quietly. Truthfully, you didn’t quite care but you were grateful. You did need a distraction for thinking of the man you just killed.

“I knew you were going to be there, and I saw when your Heartrender and lieutenant made it back. They were talking about you and how they had to leave you.” She explained.

“Oh..”

“I thought of going back to Kaz but I wasn’t sure there was time.” She tied a tight knot and winced.

“And here I was thinking you didn’t like me.” You joked, letting your head fall back against the wall behind you.

“I don’t, not really, but I do respect you.” She explained and you raised a brow. “And Kaz seems to have taken a liking to you.”

You scoffed slightly. “If you knew the whole story, you’d know that’s not true.”

“I don’t need to.”

“You trust Kaz that much?”

“I owe Kaz that much. We all have a past, Davina, but that’s not all we have.”

“Is that some Suli wisdom?”

“No.” She smiled slightly. “Just the truth.”

“Thank you.” You nodded. “For showing up. You saved my life.”

“I’d like to think you’d do the same for us.” She said, though the tilt to her voice let you know it was more of a question.

“A select few Dregs.” You confirmed. “I could count them on one hand.”

She glanced behind her to see the foot traffic in the street before looking at your wounds, then she met your eyes.

“The Slat may be closer.” She said hesitantly.

“Maybe.” You agreed. “But it’d be better if I made it to the Rook at least. Kol can help me from there... I truly appreciate what you did for me tonight.”

She nodded. “Was that the first time you took a life?”

“That obvious?”

“Your hands are still trembling.”

“That may be due to blood loss.” You defended.

“And I saw the look in your eyes.”

“Does it get easier?”

She stood and offered you a hand. You accepted it, allowing her to help you to your feet. She walked with you for a few feet before she disappeared into the street, effortlessly blending into the crowd. But her last sentence seemed to echo in her absence. 

“No, it doesn’t.”

[the-sinful-voice-witch]

Stephanie Brown and Damian Wayne

Damian's drawing of people who loves him personally offended me when i saw the lack of Talia (but fucking Ra was there! So ridiculously absurd), Duke, Jason and more importantly in my opinion the lack of STEPHANIE BROWN! Barbara and Rose Wilson never had the bond he had with Stephanie not even Cassandra and im specially Salty about Maya because all the fuss about the "adoptive sister" That showed up right in the messed up new 52 as if Stephanie wasn't literally the fucking first big sister figure he had, this is so insulting giving the fact that STEPHANIE WAS HIS BATGIRL:

The Batman's no-daughter and Damian first big sister, Steph is a Bat member that is placed along Batman's children but she was never adopted and we could say she is kinda in the same position as Barbara, they can only become official daughters if they become daughters in law.

I firmly believe that Damian can't be placed along all the people that personally wronged Stephanie because... Damian has been an arrogant jerk with absolutely every hero he has met, he looked down on his own father at first, the fucking Batman! So he literally didn't discriminate Stephanie, because even if he tried to insult her saying he was disappointed to see she wasn't Cassandra, when he actually met Cassandra he tried to undermine her as well so to me that comparation doesn't have the same weight as when she was constantly compared to other heroes by other certain characters.

The little time they had together in the Batgirl run was way too precious, the teasing and the banter and how they worked together was so good! Stephanie was so good to him! She got him to be able to behave like a kid because she noticed he didn't even know how to play, she got him to play with him in a bouncing castle, she wanted him to smile, they worked together to save Dicks Batman and i always laugh when Damian teases her about "not having a big chest", Damian dear you were so fixated on that for no reason... Maybe Steph was also his first platonic crush... I think the second was Supergirl 😂😂.

(I miss them when they were like this... I miss them everyday 😭😭😭😭)

DCeased wasn't exactly one of my favorite comics regarding plot but it has a special place in my heart for being currently the only alternative universe that represented this sibling relationship as it was always meant to be until the disappointing death that was supposed to be solved by Talia and never happened as if they forgot.

That universe gave us a beautiful present and that was the very first time someone (wonder girl Cassie) officially acknowledged Stephanie as Damians big sister and not to mention the hug! 🥺🥺🥺 he actually let himself being comforted in her arms and hugged her back, when he saw her he even called her "Steph" Not "Brown" Or "Spoiler/Batgirl" and oh my god she became his Robin 🥲 and to me she is just the perfect Robin to his Batman after all... She was also the Batgirl to his Robin.

Another thing i want to point out, when Alfred was murdered Dick still didn't have all his memories, Jason was just too angry and Tim didn't do much, Barbara isn't that close to Damian so I think they totally should have used Stephanie here, Damian really could have used a big sister... Again wasting her character but I guess they wanted to use only the closest people to Alfred and sadly it looks like Steph isn't one... But she is an important person to Damian no matter how much DC wants to erase her, she will never dissapear! I can't believe Barbara and Rose Wilson and that pop out of nowhere post new 52 Maya are in that drawing of people who makes Damian feel loved BUT NOT STEPHANIE!! Even the horrible RA is there?! But not his mother or HIS FIRST AND IN MY OPINION BEST BIG SISTER FIGURE STEPHANIE!!! DC YOU HAVE A LOT TO ATONE FOR 😤😤😤😠😠😠😠

Fortunately the author of the webtoon family Wayne adventures has a better understanding of this and gave us the precious moments they deserve:

In my head this is Stephanie with her 3 best boys, the ex, the little platonic brother that might had or might not had a platonic crush on her and who i think is her very soulmate ❤💜

[mixmangosmangoverse]

I am curious about your takes on Sayaka Miki 👀

Hello yes you have activated me. Sayaka is like my favorite character even if I don't talk about her much and I am tired of the fandom takes around her because they so blatantly ignore SO MUCH

The big thing for me is that her arc is a clear tragedy, and it's not only tragic but it's very obviously allegorical to a mental breakdown. From early on we see Sayaka doubting if she even "deserves" the wish, we see her trying desperately to live up to Mami's legacy, but she can't, because she barely knew the real Mami and can't comprehend that Mami was also flawed. Sayaka wants to be a hero, a selfless flawless hero, but she's human. She heals Kyosuke's hand, and she says it's to help him, but there is part of her that wants him to be thankful

And that's where I think a lot of people get her arc wrong. People, even those who like her and see the arc as meaningful tend to reduce it to Sayaka being upset she "lost" Kyosuke. That he didn't love her back. But it ignores further context

The thing that really broke her wasn't losing Kyosuke. That was the final nail in the coffin. It was discovering the truth about the soul gems. Discovering she's a husk and essentially a zombie. That's the reason she skipped school, that's the reason she started shutting off her pain. She realized she isn't even human anymore, and she wants to focus only on being a paragon.

I see the moments of Sayaka refusing to accept grief seeds as essentially a person refusing help that could save them. She knows it would help her, she knows it's good for her, but she's too far gone to want it. She doesn't see herself as worthy of it, she doesn't want help because she doesn't want to acknowledge she is still in pain.

The other big moment people ignore are her snapping at Madoka. Her snapping at Madoka, yelling and being angry at her, is a sign she's spiraling and refusing to accept help. She later cries about it, for hurting Madoka, and we see just how much her mental wellbeing has gone down.

With the train scene implying she killed the men she overheard, it's clear Sayaka just isn't well. The entire arc was her spiraling until she can't contain her emotions anymore and she dies from it. It's very easy to read Sayaka's arc as her suicide; she started hurting herself, refused help, and then eventually died because of it. Her arc means a lot to me as someone who struggles with a lot of the same feelings and so seeing people reduce her arc to "she's upset she didn't get the boy" is not only reductive but it refuses to engage with the meaning of her story

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just One Reason: A Walk in the Park

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn’t end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You push through the door of the lobby and hold it open for the elder woman hunched over her walker. You patiently let her through but she doesn’t even acknowledge your deed. It’s too bad that most times you help people, you don’t even seem to notice. That’s fine. You’d feel worse to see her struggle. 

She heads for the outer door but before you can rush over to get that too, someone else does. You blanch as you recognise the man with the bristly mustache. It’s Lloyd. You haven’t seen or heard from him in the week since the sandwich shop encounter. You just assumed it was another random crossing of wires. 

The woman mutters as she passes through the door and his cheek twitches as he waits until he’s through to let go. He shakes his head and turns to you, “there ya are. Didn’t know your unit so kinda just been hanging around.” 

You blink, “you’ve been waiting on me?” 

“That lady was a grouch, huh? Not even a thanks. Telling ya, tootsie roll, you’re too sweet,” he says. That pet name is cute but a bit much. 

“Um, yeah, but she’s probably in a lot of pain. Maybe one day I’ll be in the same way and someone will hold the door for me,” you shrug. “But uh, why exactly are you waiting in my lobby?” 

“Friends stop by to say hello, don’t they?” He grins.  

“Sure, but uh...” 

“You said we’re friends so... did I misread this? Were you just being nice? The way you do, huh? Because lying isn’t very nice, tootsie.” 

You shake your head, “no, I just... I don’t know. I’m surprised. That’s all.” 

“Good surprise?” He lifts a brow. 

“Yeah, of course,” you squeak. 

“Mm, and where are you off too, besides helping little old ladies?” He challenges. 

“Just going for a walk. I like to walk through Garnet.” 

“Garnet? You mean the sh—the path down there?” He points to the wall and you nod. 

“They have pretty flowers.” 

“It’s... almost winter,” he sniffs. 

“Yeah, I know. I like it though. There’s still ducks around.” 

He nods, his eyes narrowed discerningly, “you always see the silver linings, don’t ya?” 

“I try,” you shrug. 

“Well, can I crash your walk? Could stand to stretch my legs.” 

You nod and hum, “that’s fine.” 

“Just fine?” 

“Lloyd,” you give him a look, “you’re more than welcome to walk with me.” 

You tuck your earbud case away. The left one is broken anyhow. He pulls the door open again and waves you out. 

He follows and catches up to you on the sidewalk. You walk down the pavement and breathe in the brisk air. You fix your beanie over your ears and slip your hands up your sleeves as you cross your arms. 

“Damn cold, isn’t it?” He puffs a cloud of steam into the air. 

“I can’t wait for the snow,” you say.  

Your father always loved the wintertime. You would watch the flakes drift down and build a snowman, even a tiny one if there wasn’t very much, and you’d have hot chocolate on the porch in your mittens and pajamas. And Christmas... 

You push away that thought. 

“You’re quiet? You alright?” He nudges you with his elbow. You flinch. You forgot he was there for a second. 

“I’m wonderful. How are you? How’s your ear?” 

“My ear...” he echoes. “You remember?” 

“Did you get it looked at? Does it still hurt?” 

“Yeah, it’s alright. Still a bit fuzzy on that side,” he shrugs. “It’s whatever. I’m a big boy.” 

“Right, but did a doctor say so or--” 

“You worry about me that much, tootsie?” He scoffs. 

“It’s important. You never know, could be worse than you think. And if it’s nothing at all, at least you know,” you say. You don’t want to nag him, even if you should have nagged your dad. Maybe... 

“No, I didn’t. Really, it’s not the first time I got a good blast to the ear,” he says. 

“Right,” you accept as you turn through the gate to the park. The arch is missing letters but it’s still beautiful. 

He sighs again and rubs his hands together. “God, I hate the cold.” 

“You should get gloves,” you uncross your arms and reach into your pocket, “I don’t know, mine might be too small.” 

You offer him the woolly mittens. He clicks his tongue, “that’s cute, definitely too small.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and chatters. You look at his jacket. You try to see the inside above the collar. “What are you doing?” He glances at you from the corner of his eye. 

“Is that lined?” You ask. 

“What?” 

“Your coat. Is there a lining in it? It looks thin.” 

“I’m just fine, mom, thanks,” he snips sharply. 

“Gosh, sorry, I just... I could sew a lining into it. I replaced the inserts in my boots too. It’s not that hard.” 

He furrows his brow, “it’s whatever. I spend most of the winter south. Right by the equator where it’s nice and sunny.” 

“Ooo, that sounds cool,” you say. “By the ocean?” 

“Surrounded by it,” he says nonchalantly. 

“Wow. I’ve never seen the ocean.” 

“You haven’t... tootsie, what’re ya doin’ to me? You’re lying.” 

“Nope,” you shake your head. “I’m sure one day I will. Is it pretty?” 

He looks at you and his nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath, “yeah, it’s... beautiful,” he looks ahead thoughtfully. “Guess I should pay more attention, but yeah, real blue and big and sh—stuff.” 

You bounce on your feet and stop suddenly. You hit his arm and point, “don’t scare him.” 

He nearly trips as you gesture to the little chipmunk on the broken bench. You can’t help a squee as it skitters onto the seat and glances around nervously. You squeeze Lloyd’s sleeve without thinking. 

“He’s so c-y-ute!” You say, “isn’t he?” 

He doesn’t answer right away but you’re too enamoured with the tiny critter to care. 

“Yea, super cute,” he agrees at last. 

[resol-nare]

Yeah, having some of the background lines regarding the Warden or Hawke or whatever would be fun! But personally I'd rather they get brought up in a way that not only is validating but is also relevant to the story. Failing that, I actually would rather they focus on the few keep decisions they've selected because chances are that the acknowledgment of these decisions are going to be much higher quality than anything they could pull out of their asses regarding whether or not X did Y 20 years ago.

And with the game in northern Thedas, I think it makes a certain amount of sense that everything that happened in the south isn't constantly being brought up. Most people in the north probably don't even know who the fuck the Hero of Ferelden is.

Also, wait come back here. *grabs you by the front of your shirt* You DO understand that Bioware isn't making you do SHIT, right? You can change the Inquisitor. You can pick who they romanced. Yes, all of them. Gender and race specific, anyways. No one is shoving Solavellan down your throat ffs. You're a veteran player who wants your non-Solas romancing Inquisitor in the game? You can do that! You're a new player who'd rather the Inquisitor be a big ol' horned person or a short and stocky dwarf? Good news! You can do that, too!

Anyways.

The only choices I am genuinely confused that they aren't being included is the Well of Sorrows choice, and Kieran. I know Kieran's 18-20 years old by now, (if he even exists for you at all) so probably isn't following his mother around Thedas like a puppy anymore. It feels to me like it should still at least be partially relevant with Mythal still knocking around in Solas's head. Or Morrigan's. I'm not clear on that one.

The Well has got to be the worst one to not include, imo. Maybe Mythal isn't going to be relevant outside of Solas's memories or Morrigan's experiences, but I still feel like one of the Evanuris being able to control the Inquisitor or Morrigan (who can transform into a fucking dragon if she drinks from the well) would be a Concern.

If it were just the current confirmed Keep choices, and then Kieran's existence and the Well, I would be satisfied.

[rubus-yunnion]

Anything for our resident Irish man? You know who I mean

Hello! So sorry for answering your question so late, life has been busy for me. I'm assuming your talking about O'Connor, and I've finally found the time to write down some hcs, enjoy!

° Knows every single pick up line, he knows his way around woman.

° Gets along really well with both Gibbo and Trots, he agrees with Trots most of the time but there are others where he seems to be agreeing with Gibbo.

° Sometimes writes love letters to himself about Mary, always keeps it hidden. Caz did find one of them and started to read it out loud in the canteen, O’Connor refused to talk to anyone that whole week.

° O’Connor is roughly around 5’11, tallest crew member being Raffs (6’3)

° Always hated skating, but the thing he hates even more is ice skating, he could never control his balance, even when holding onto the railings and whatnot. But, he’ll always join his Mary as she loves it more then he does.

° VERY GOOD at pool, if he and Rennick were to compete against each other then there would be war in the crew lounge. And also a free job for scouting the pontoons.

° Speaking of Rennick, he doesn’t actually have an opinion on him, at least not too many bad opinions. Though he isn’t very supportive of how Rennick treats the rig, especially when it comes to the pontoon operations.

° Not the best at singing or playing any other instrument, but he is very fluent in playing the piano.

° Has way too many health issues, it’s surprising how long he’s lived for with all these problems, did in fact pee himself one time, Gibbo was the first to acknowledge and Trots unfortunately had to clean it up for him. Poor Trots.

° Has broken way too many bones in his life, specifically his left arm. Nobody knows why it’s always the left arm that gets broken.

° Although he has broken many of bones, he sometimes pretends that he twisted his feet all the time. Though Brodie wasn’t aware of this the first time and immediately tried to convince Rennick to call a hospital chopper.

° Loves pottery, he’s used to his hands being quite dirty so this never really bothered him too much. One time he tried to make a swan for Mary’s birthday, but it ended up looking like a cat that got ran over 3 times. She didn’t mind it though, actually she thought it was quite charming.

° Pretty decent at darts, though not as good as Finlay or Brodie. Speaking of Finlay, he gets along with her well, though still quite scared of her just like the rest of the crew members.

° Addair disgusts him, his views on the world is something he wished Addair kept to himself. Whenever he gets the chance, he’ll rip immigrant posters down from his walls and throw them in the bin.

° Has a bad habit of whistling all the time, many people told him to shut up because of it.

° Talk ill of Mary and you’ll start wishing Rennick called a hospital chopper for you.