#Then maybe I’ll do the crow or spider. Who knows!

[petitelepus]

FOX’S WEDDING, PART 3

KITSUNE!RENGUKO KYOJURO X FEM!READER

Summary: You and Kyojuro head out to a convenience store and on your way back you stop by the park to talk.

Warnings: None

A/N: Female Reader, Kitsune Kyojuro, Kitsune Senjuro, Kitsune Rengoku, Monster Musume!AU

PART 1 II PART 2 II PART 3 II PART 4 II PART 5 II PART 6 II PART 7 II PART 8 II PART 9 II PART 11 II PART 12 II PART 13 II PART 14 II PART 15 II PART 16 II PART 17 II PART 18 II PART 19

You were on your way to the closest convenience store called 7-Eleven that you had found on your phone's GPS. What couldn't phones do these days? Kyojuro was amazed by how handy the little device of yours could be and you were honestly amused by his reactions.

"So that little device helps you to find your way to places?" He asked and you nodded, "Yes. You can also use it to listen to music, watch videos or explore the internet, though, it's mostly designed to be used to call someone."

"My, how technology is amazing these days!" Kuojuro exclaimed, "Internet? Like ones Jorōgumo's make?"

"Wait, what?" Now you were confused. Luckily, Kyojuro didn't seem to mind your lack of knowledge and he nodded, "Yes, they are demihumans, usually called as spider-ladies."

"Ooh, now I know what you mean!" You smiled and nodded, "Internet is a little different. It's not physical, but you can access it with electronic devices. You can find probably anything from there."

"How intriguing!" The fox nodded, "Can you teach me and my brother to use this net?"

"Yes, it shouldn't be hard." You said, but then you thought about it a little bit and you came to the conclusion that the Fox brothers would need some electronics of their own.

"Remind me that we get you and Senjuro your own phones and computers." You told him and the fox looked at you curiously, "What is computer?"

"It's a device you use to explore the internet."

"Oh, like the phone?"

You nodded, but also corrected him, "Yes, but the computer is almost solely used for exploring the internet while the phone's main job is to call someone else with a phone."

"So if I have a phone, I can call you or my brother and talk with you?"

"Yes."

"No matter where I am?"

"Mostly, yes."

"How handy!" He shouted happily, "So I don't need to send crow messages anymore?"

"No, you don't need to use bird mail anymore, and unlike birds, the messages you send with the phone arrive in the other device in the manner of seconds." You explained, before yawning a little. While it was nice to teach Kyojuro new things, you were slowly feeling the lack of proper sleep creep close by.

"Are you tired, my Hime?" Kyojuro asked and you yawned one more time before shaking your head, "No, or, well, maybe a little, but it's alright."

The fox nodded and he looked like he wanted to say something, but that was when you noticed the bright lights in the short distance and you grinned, "I think we are here."

Kyojuro looked ahead and you grinned a little as you saw his gorgeous eyes widen a the sight of the brightly lit convenience store. The look in his eyes reminded you of the saying like a moth to a flame.

"I guarantee, it's more amazing inside." You said as you gently took his hand and your words and actions seemed to snap the Kitsune out of his mind. He turned to look at you and you smiled as you escorted him inside.

The moment you made it inside, Kyojuro was amazed by all the different foods and drinks all around the store. The place was empty save for the cashier who was reading a magazine behind the register so you and Kyojuro were able to shop in peace.

While the fox gawked at all the treats on display, you grabbed a basket for you and one for your companion. You had to nudge him a little to get his attention and once you had it, you pushed the basket to his hands.

"Fill it with whatever you want me to buy."

"Whatever I want?" Kyojuro's eyes almost sparkled in excitement and you had to look away or risk turning blind.

"Yes, I'll grab some things so you can do the same." You nodded and he smiled as he moved to forward to explore the store. You smiled as you watched him look around and you went to pick up something to make for breakfast.

You grabbed the most basic things there were, such as cereals, milk, orange and apple juice, a carton of eggs, some bacon, and other things that could be counted as part of the breakfast table.

Once you were satisfied with your basket, you sought out Kyojuro who had a basket of his own filled with food and drinks he was curious about. Speaking of curiosity, he was by the register, staring at something intensely. You approached him and carefully tapped his shoulder so you wouldn't startle him.

"Ah, my beloved bride!" He exclaimed and you wondered how the cashier didn't react to him. Kyojuro looked ahead and pointed at some food inside the vitrine next to the register. "What are these buns?"

"They look like they are steamed." You thought out loud as you read the product's description, "Yes, they are steamed buns with pizza filling."

"Pizza?" Kyojuro looked at you and you nodded, "It's a fast food like the hamburgers we had earlier. It's very good."

"In that case, may I try some?"

"Sure, I don't mind." You shrugged and looked at the cashier behind the register, who was still too engaged with his magazine to notice that he had customers. You cleared your throat and the young man glanced at you and the moment he saw he had customers, he sighed and got up.

"Welcome to 7-Eleven, how can I help you?" He asked and you almost winched how lifeless he sounded. You grabbed the older fox's basket and lifted it alongside your basket on the desk between you and the cashier.

"We would like to buy these and...!" You turned to look at the vitrine to see what there was. There were 6 buns left and by what you had learned today, Kyorujo had a bottomless stomach.

"And rest of your steamed buns."

If the cashier cared then he did a good job hiding it. Honestly, he probably didn't give a shit about anything. Maybe he served you because he wanted you gone quickly so he could return to read that magazine of his.

You watched as he scanned your groceries, put them in the bag, and placed the pizza buns in a separate bag, before he asked you to pay, he glanced at Kyojuro, "You cosplaying or something, dude?"

"Cos... Play?" The fox tilted his head in confusion and you shook your head, "Forget it, I'll explain later."

The cashier nodded before asking you to pay. Which you did. Once you were done, you handed Kyojuro his buns and picked up the grocery bags and left the store, and entered the night again.

"You have so much to carry!" Kyojuro noted, "Let me carry them!"

"No, no, you focus on those buns and then you can help me carry these!" You snapped, and he looked like he wanted to argue, but you were having none of that. The fox looked around and suddenly exclaimed, "There!"

You nearly dropped your bags, you were so startled by his sudden shouting.

"Wha-?" You were about to ask when Kyojuro grabbed you and pulled you with him to a small playground. You blinked as he took the groceries from your hands and placed them on the ground by the swings as he took a seat on one.

"We can sit here while I eat!" He said and you honestly had no energy to argue against him. "Okay, sounds good, but we can't stay for long since it's so late and Senjuro is alone at the house."

It was maybe around midnight and you didn't want to leave the house empty for too long since Senjuro was there all by himself. You took a seat on the swing next to his and lazily kicked your legs, making the swing move a little.

"Yes, I'll eat quickly so we can head back quickly and safely!" Kyojuro exclaimed as he fished out a hot bun from the bag and took a bite.

"TASTY!" He shouted and you winched a little by how loud he was being. "Please, try to be a little bit quieter so we don't disturb any residents nearby."

"My apologies my bride!" He nodded as he took another bite, yelling TASTY again, but notably quieter. You smiled as you watched him eat bun after bun while shouting TASTY after each bite he took. You don't know for sure why, but watching him enjoy something as simple as steamed buns so happily made you feel happy also.

But as you watched him eat, his earlier words popped up in your mind. His bride. You? You honestly still couldn't quite believe it. You? Seriously? You glanced at the man who sat next to you and asked, "Hey, Kyojuro?"

"Yes, my beloved?" He stopped eating to look at you and you suddenly felt pretty insecure. "Can I ask something?"

"Please do!"

"Earlier today, when we first met, you said you chose me to become your wife..." You were filled with uncertainty as you looked down at your hanging feet, "Out of all the possible people there are, you really chose me?"

"Yes!" He said without a pause or hesitation.

"Why?" You cleared your throat as you figured out another way to put your question, "Just...! Are you sure you want me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm not the prettiest or smartest woman there is. Don't you want your wife to match your high status?" You frowned, feeling saddened by your own thoughts and words... And Kyojuro didn't allow any of that.

"But you do match!" He exclaimed and you were startled by how honest he sounded, "What?"

"You are beautiful and kind! I could tell that the moment I saw your picture and I knew that moment that you're the woman I want to marry!"

"But I'm-!"

"Gorgeous, unique, and honest!" Kyojuro nodded, "You could have turned me and my brother away, but you accepted and welcomed us right away!"

It wasn't like you could refuse, you had signed the contract, but you guess he was right, you could have been nasty to him and Senjuro, but you weren't raised to be like that.

You grew up always giving people a chance and being open-minded. That, and you couldn't tell why, but you got his good feeling when you looked at the Rengoku brothers. Like you were all meant to be together.

"You're awfully honest." You chuckled as you were getting a little of your more hopeful and positive attitude back. Kyojuro nodded happily as he smiled brightly, "As your fiance, it's my duty to love and care for you!

Fiance... The word brought up so many feelings and so many questions. Well, you were already talking about these things so why not dive deeper into the conversation and learn more about him?

"How do you feel about getting married?"

"I'm excited!" Kyojuro said happily, "I wish great things from marriage, just like my father's and mother's!"

"I see." You got curious, "So your parents are also Kitsunes?"

"Yes, both father and mother have all nine tails they can acquire!"

"Wow, so you and Senjuro are pure Kitsunes?" You asked and Kyojuro nodded, and you expected him to talk about their family line, but instead, he fell quiet and you got worried. It didn't feel like a normal thing for him to be this quiet.

Finally, he spoke, "Now as we are talking, I must admit, there is another reason for my marriage than just to strengthen our Yokai's and humans' bond."

"Oh?" You felt like this was a sensitive topic so you didn't try to pry, but you found out you didn't need to as Kyojuro continued his tale.

"Long time ago, our mother fell ill. Every yokai tried to help her, but there was nothing to be done... With each passing day, mother turned weaker and weaker and she became all skin and bones..."

"Oh no..." You frowned as you listened to this sad story of his.

"But then, a human appeared one day and offered their help to us. Father didn't believe in humans, but we were losing hope and getting desperate so we allowed the human to try and help our mother." Kyojuro nodded as he turned to look at you and he smiled.

"That day, our mother ate for the first time in ages and she started to slowly gain her strength back. She would have no doubt died if it wasn't for this one kind human who brought her the medicine that cured her."

"Oh wow, that is amazing...!" You murmured happily as you heard that the story had a good ending. The Kitsune nodded happily, "So the reason I wanted to marry a human was because of both gratitude and love."

"But I'm not human who helped your mother," You frowned, "Shouldn't you marry them instead of me?"

"While I am eternally thankful for that human, they passed away a long time ago. Or, well, that is what I heard. Instead, I wanted to marry one as kind and genuine as the human who helped my family." Kyojuro turned to look at you, smiling like a sun in the middle of the night. "Someone just like you."

"Wh- what!?" You stuttered as you blushed. You wanted to talk, you wanted to reply, do anything, but it appeared that your brains weren't functioning right when given such sincere compliments.

"So...!" Kyojuro got up from his swing and you watched eyes wide how he humbly bowed to you. "Thank you for taking me and my beloved brother in and caring for us!"

"P- please don't bow to me! Aren't we equals?" You asked, remembering what he had told you earlier that day when you had called him Lord.

"Ah, pardon me!" The Kitsune straightened up and nodded, "I just couldn't help myself from expressing how happy I am to be living with you!"

"W- well..." You were still blushing as you looked aside, "I don't mind, you are very kind to me and Senjuro is so sweet."

"You're so kind and caring!" Kyojuro smiled proudly and nodded, "Truly, you would make a perfect mother!"

"W- wait, what!?" You snapped your gaze at your fiance, feeling your cheeks burn like there was lava below your skin instead of blood. The damn fox had the guts to laugh, "You look adorable when you are embarrassed!"

"Mother!?" You cried out, "W- We barely know each other and we are already talking about having kids!?"

"To be fair, you know much more about my and Senjuro's past than we know about yours!" Kyojuro pointed out and you winched. He was right, so far you had heard about his past, but you hadn't shared anything from yours.

What to tell, what to tell...? You wondered what you should tell her about your past, but that is when you noticed the empty bag that was filled with steamed buns just a little while ago.

"Are you done with the pizza buns?" You asked and the man nodded, "Hm! Yes, I ate the last one quite some time ago! They were delicious!"

"Then we should head back to the house, in case Senjuro wakes up and can't find either of us there." You said as you jumped off the swing and grabbed your grocery bags.

Kyojuro looked like he wanted to say something, but he held his tongue and rushed to grab the bags from you. "Allow me to carry them!"

"I can take at least one of them-!" You were saying as you reached for the other bag but the fox yanked the bags away from your reach, "No, as a man I will carry my bride's belongings!"

"Kyojuro," You said and he nodded, "Yes my Hime?"

"I promise, I will tell you about my past once I can." You promised as he stared at you with those gorgeous eyes of his. Finally, he nodded, "I trust in you to do so."

"I just have to warn you, it's nothing as interesting as your family's story!" You chuckled lightly as you looked forward to the road. The man nodded, "It doesn't matter if it's interesting or not! One day you are going to be my wife and I want to know as much as I can about you!"

You blinked, once again finding yourself gawking at how open this fox was about his feelings. You grumbled a little as you continued your walk toward your shared house... Only to see that all the lights were on in the middle of the night.

"What the-?" You blinked and that is when you remembered that Senjuro was alone. Fearing for the worst, you rushed inside, Kyojuro following just behind you.

"Senjuro-oO!" As soon as you opened the door and stepped inside you felt something hit your stomach and you went down like a dead tree. You felt the air being knocked out of your lungs as your back hit the ground and you groaned, hitting the back of your head on the floor.

"Senjuro!" Kyojuro gasped and you looked down... And saw a small and most adorable fox lying on your stomach. You blinked as you and the fox stared at each until you noticed the familiar golden and red eyes.

"S- Senjuro?" You asked and suddenly there was a puff of smoke and you groaned, feeling the weight on your stomach turn heavier. Once the smoke dissolved, you saw Senjuro himself sitting on your stomach.

"Senjuro?" You called his name and the poor boy was on the brink of tears.

"I- I woke up but no one was here so I tried looking around and I got scared when I couldn't find you two...!" He stuttered as he tried his hardest not to cry but it was a battle that he was losing.

Out of nowhere, you felt your maternal instincts kick in and you quickly pushed yourself up so were sitting and hugged the dear shy boy, who pressed his face against the crook of your neck as you held him in your arms.

"I'm so sorry, we shouldn't have left you alone, it's my fault..." You murmured as you gently rocked him from side to side while petting his golden hair, minding his tall ears that were pressed so low against his head.

"No, I'm the one at fault in here!" Kyojuro exclaimed as he kneeled next to you two, "I shouldn't have left you alone like that. I'm so sorry Senjuro...!"

"It's- it's alright..." The younger fox nodded as he pulled away from the hug, "I- I'm sorry for being like this..."

"No no, nothing is your fault..." You said gently as you smiled, "Being here alone must have been so scary, but you are so brave!"

"I am...?" He blinked and you smiled, "Yes, you are. Much more than you may believe."

"Can I...?" The young fox sniffled as he glanced at the older fox, "Can I sleep today with you brother?"

Kyojuro smiled and nodded immediately, "Of course!"

The man helped his little brother up on his feet before helping you up as well. You looked at the two of them and smiled, admiring their brotherly bond. Suddenly you felt like yawning, but you held it in and took off your shoes.

"You two go ahead and get some sleep." You smiled as you looked at them, "I'll put the groceries away and then go to sleep also."

"Promise?" Kyojuro asked, referring to your earlier promise about sleep that you didn't exactly keep. You raised your hand up and another over your heart, "I promise and I mean it this time."

"Go ahead and into my room Senjuro. I'll be right there." Kyojuro said and his younger brother nodded as he climbed the stairs up and disappeared from your view. You glanced at the older brother who was looking at you with this gaze you didn't quite know or understand.

"What?"

"I told you that you would make a great mother." He said with a kind smile before wishing you good night and following his brother upstairs. You blinked as your brains registered his words and a soft blush to your cheeks.

A mom... You shook your head, trying to chase those fluffy feelings away before you grabbed the grocery bags and went to take them to the kitchen. It didn't take long before all the bags were empty and the fridge was half full with some proper food and some snacks that Kyojuro had picked out of curiosity.

You glanced at the clock on your phone. 1 am. Boy, you were late out there. You stretched your arms high up in the air, feeling those tense muscles on your shoulders ease up a little bit. After your shoulders felt better, you made your way upstairs, but on your way to your room, you stopped by Kyojuro's room and carefully opened the door to take a peek.

The brothers were soundly asleep, Senjuro in his big brother's arms, safe from any harm that the world could inflict on them. You smiled at the sight before closing the door gently and going to your room.

Boy, what a mess it was with all the moving boxes. You would have your hands full for the next couple of days and not just with your stuff, but also teaching the foxes how to live in the modern world.

Somehow, you weren't that scared of that. No, you were looking forward to it.

#rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku senjuro #rengoku x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kitsune #nine taled fox #monster musume!AU #Monster Musume #reader #Reader insert #my writing #story #my story #Fem!Reader #ENJOY!

[moonshine999]

The Crows as Taylor Swift albums (pt.1)

because why would we have a sane method of characterisation

Kaz Brekker : Midnights 

♟️”And I wake up with your memory over me // That’s a real fucking legacy to leave” - Maroon 

♟️”Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism // Like some kind of congressman? (Tale as old as time) // I wake up screaming from dreaming // One day I’ll watch as you’re leaving and life will lose all its meaning” - Anti-hero 

♟️”And the touch of a hand lit the fuse  // Of a chain reaction of countermoves // To assess the equation of you // Checkmate, I couldn’t lose” - Mastermind

♟️”Do you wish you could still touch…her? // It’s just a question” - Question…? 

♟️”Uh oh, I’m falling in love // Oh no, I’m falling in love again // Oh, I falling in love” - Labyrinth 

♟️”Spider-boy, king of thieves // Weave your little webs of opacity// My pennies made your crown” - Karma 

♟️”Passing by unbeknownst to me // Life is emotionally abusive// And time can’t stop me quite like you did” - Snow on the Beach 

♟️”All that bloodshed, crimson clover // uh-uh, sweet dream was over // my hand was the one you reached for // All throughout the Great War // Always remember// Uh-uh tears on the letter // I vowed not to cry anymore // if we survived the Great War” - The Great War

♟️”I drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone // You said I have to trust more freely // But diesel is desire, you were playing with fire” - The Great War

♟️”Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness // ‘Cause it’s all over now, all out to sea” - Bigger than the whole sky

♟️”If I was some paint, did it splatter // On a promising grown man? // And if I was a child, did it matter // If you got to wash your hands?”- Would’ve could’ve should’ve

♟️”And now that I’m grown, I’m scared of ghosts // Memories feel like weapons” - Would’ve could’ve should’ve

♟️”Dear reader // Burn all the files, desert all your past lives // And I’d you don’t recognise yourself // That means you did it right “ - Dear Reader

♟️”Dear reader // The greatest of luxuries is your secrets // Dear reader // When you aim at the devil, make sure you don’t miss” - Dear Reader

Inej Ghafa : Speak Now

🪷”Left yourself in your warpath // Lost your balance on a tightrope // Lost your mind tryin' to get it back” - Innocent  

🪷”Oh, who you are is not where you’ve been // you’re still an innocent” - Innocent

🪷”My mind forgets to remind me you're a bad idea // You touch me once and it's really something “- Sparks Fly 

🪷”Maybe this is wishful thinkin' // Probably mindless dreamin'” - Back To December 

🪷”Miscommunications lead to fall out // So many things that I wish you knew // So many walls up I can't break through” - The Story Of Us

🪷”The battle's in your hands now // But I would lay my armor down // If you'd say you'd rather love than fight “- The Story of Us 

🪷”But I never thought I'd live to see it break // It's getting dark and it's all too quiet // And I can't trust anything now” - Haunted 

🪷”but Sophistication isn't what you wear, or who you know” - Better Than Revenge 

🪷”The playful conversation starts // Counter all your quick remarks // Like passing notes in secrecy” - Enchanted 

🪷“same old tired, lonely place // walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and vacancy // vanished when I saw your face // All I can say is, it was enchanting to meet you” - Enchanted

🪷”The crowds in stands went wild // We were the kings and the queens// And they read off our names” - Long Live 

🪷”And the cynics were outraged // Screaming, "This is absurd" // ‘Cause for a moment // a band of thieves In ripped up jeans got to rule the world” - Long Live 

🪷”Don't you think I was too young to be messed with?” - Dear John 

🪷”Well maybe it’s me // And my blind optimism to blame // Or maybe it’s you and your sick need // to give love and then take it away” - Dear John

🪷”Memorise what it sounded like when your dad gets home // Remember the footsteps // Remember the words said // And all of your little brother’s favourite songs” - Never Grow Up

(Nina, Matthias, Jesper and Wylan are already posted)

#grishaverse #six of crows #SoC #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kaz x inej #kanej #taylor swift #swifties #midnights #speak now #shadow and bone #the crows as taylor swift albums

[thecrxwclub]

the crows described using five of their quotes

Kaz

“And then there are the ones who stay awake, running through the trick again and again, looking for that skip in perception, the crack in the illusion that will explain how their eyes got duped; they’re the kind who won’t rest until they’ve mastered that little bit of mystery for themselves. I’m that kind . . . I love puzzles. Trickery is just my native tongue.”

“He knew exactly what he intended to leave behind when he was gone. Damage.”

“There was no part of him that was not broken, that had not healed wrong, and there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken.”

“Well, Brekker, it’s obvious you only deal in half-truths and outright lies, so you’re clearly the man for the job.”

“Would you?" asked Wylan, his chin jutting forward. "Trust someone with that knowledge, with a secret that could destroy you?" Yes, thought Kaz without hesitation. There's one person I would trust. One person I know who would never use my weaknesses against me.”

Inej

“You still may die in the Dregs." Inej’s dark eyes had glinted. "I may. But I'll die on my feet with a knife in my hand.”

“She was not a lynx or a spider or even the Wraith. She was Inej Ghafa, and her future was waiting above.”

“For some reason, those words had comforted her. Better terrible truths than kind lies.”

“I'm already a ghost, she thought. I died in the hold of a slaver ship.”

“"I'm not ready to give up on this city, Kaz. I think it's worth saving." I think you're worth saving.” . . . She would fight for him, but she could not heal him. She would not waste her life trying.”

Jesper

“Facts are for the unimaginative,” Jesper said with a dismissive wave.

“There was a long silence, and then, eyes trained on the notch they’d created in the link, Wylan said, “Just girls?” Jesper restrained a grin. “No. Not just girls.”

“That sound - the swift, shocking report of gunfire - called the scattered, irascible, permanently seeking part of his mind into focus like nothing else.”

“Take good care of my babies,” Jesper said as he handed them over to Dirix. “If I see a single scratch or nick on those, I’ll spell forgive me on your chest in bullet holes.”

“If any of you survive, make sure I have an open casket,” Jesper said as he hefted two slender coils of rope over his shoulder and signalled for Wylan to follow him across the roof. “The world deserves a few more moments with this face.”

Wylan

“You’re not weak because you can’t read. You’re weak because you’re afraid of people seeing your weakness. You’re letting shame decide who you are.”

You’re our chemist, Wylan,” said Nina hopefully. “What do you think?” Wylan shrugged. “Maybe. Not all poisons have an antidote.” Jesper snorted. “That’s why we call him Wylan Van Sunshine.”

“You know, Wylan, one of these days I'm going to stop underestimating you.” “There was a brief pause and then, somewhere ahead, he heard Wylan say, "Then you're going to be a lot harder to surprise.”

“Until this moment, Wylan hadn't quite understood how much they meant to him. His father would have sneered at these thugs and thieves, a disgraced soldier, a gambler who couldn't keep out of the red. But they were his first friends, his only friends, and Wylan knew that even if he'd had his pick of a thousand companions, these would have been the people he chose.”

“What do you like?" "Music. Numbers. Equations. They're not like words. They ... they don't get mixed up." "If only you could talk to girls in equations." There was a long silence, and then, eyes trained on the notch they'd created in the link, Wylan said, "Just girls?”

Nina

“Nina stopped laughing. “I am going to turn your teeth inside out.” “That is physically impossible.” “I just raised the dead. Do you really want to argue with me?”

“You aren’t a flower, you’re every blossom in the wood blooming at once. You are a tidal wave. You’re a stampede. You are overwhelming.”

“They were twin souls, soldiers destined to fight for different sides, to find each other and lose each other too quickly. She would not keep him here. Not like this.”

“Nina just liked to flirt with everything. He’d once seen her make eyes at a pair of shoes she fancied in a shop window.”

“What do you want, Kaz?” “You have crumbs on your cleavage.” “Don’t care,” she said, taking another bite of cake. “So hungry.” Kaz shook his head, amused and impressed at how quickly Nina dropped the wise Grisha priestess act. She’d missed her true calling on the stage.”

Matthias

“Nina, I am with you because you let me be with you. There is no greater honor than to stand by your side.”

“Do not be afraid. Fear is how they control you. There's so much in the world you don't have to be afraid of, if you would only open your eyes.”

“I’m trying to compel you to kiss me.” “That’s foolish.” “Why is that?” “Because I always want to kiss you,” he admitted.”

“They fear you as I once feared you,” he said. “As you once feared me. We are all someone’s monster, Nina.”

He doesn’t approve of anything about you. But when you laugh, he perks up like a tulip in fresh water.” Nina snorted. “Matthias the tulip.” “The big, brooding, yellow tulip.”

#i wanted to include like ten but then this would be simply too long #six of crows #crooked kingdom #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #nina zenik #wylan van eck #matthias helvar #grishaverse #shadow and bone #soc #six of crows quotes #kaz brekker quotes #inej ghafa quotes #jesper fahey quotes #wylan van eck quotes #nina zenik quotes #matthias helvar quotes #crows quotes #grishaverse quotes #kanej #wesper #helnik #kanej quotes #wesper quotes #helnik quotes

[elirastudio]

Shadow King au

This is before the whole spider queen thing and I’ve been thinking about this for so long and I think Ive been too cruel towards Xiaotian…let’s change that shall we?

——

Sitting next to his father as he watched the generals play and help with the smaller monkeys, both old and young. He smiles and rested his head on his shoulder, he felt the king’s fur move as he felt a nuzzle on his head. Laughing at the exchange, Xiaotian hugged his father not wanting to let go. Not wanting to open his eyed. For he knows what it meant if he did.

For what he’s been doing and seeing weren’t real…this reality was all in his head….

It was

A dream

Everything that’s going on was a dream… and he hated the very knowledge of it.

His eyes opened and looked at his father’s tail on his arm, it made the little prince feel protected, his focus was directed at a monkey who somehow seemed different from the others. He was a tad taller than the other monkeys but shorter than his father, probably a tad shorter than himself.

“That one has been there for a while”

“He could need some help, dad. I’ll check up on him”

“Be careful, Xiaotian!”

Xiaotian walked up to strange monkey carefully, as he got closer the little one looked similar to someone…he couldn’t think of anyone. It wasn’t Mei nor Red Son, CERTAINLY not the other Pilgrims but then who?

The small monkey smiles and looked at the young prince.

“Hey, uh bud…h-how are you?”

It was him…Sun Wukong….but tiny and his eyes were glowing a warm golden shimmer…

Silence filled the air with both young beings living in Flower Fruit Mountain….Uuuuntil

“AHHHHHHHH”

“AHHHHHHHH”

Both of them started yelling…

Well things are starting smoothly to say the least…

“DAAAAD! DAD! ITS WUKONG!!” Xiaotian yelled as he started to run back to his dad

“WHAT WAIT NO HOLD UP” Yelled the young king as he chased the young prince trying to reason with him.

They spent around 15-20 minutes in their little cat and mouse game until the prince realized that they were at a standstill. So he stopped running and stood firm to the king, whom he towers over easily.

“What are YOU doing here?!”

The young king placed his hands up and gave the boy some space

“Listen, this is going to sound weird but I’m not Wukong….I mean I AM Sun Wukong BUT not Sun Wukong who’s running away! Argh! This so complicated to explain!…”

The small king sat down out of frustration and looked towards the boy.

“Ok let me try this again…Im Wukong waay before he went crazy”

Xiaotian stopped and looked at him calmly now. He recognized his outfit…his father has it in a box inside his room. It was precious to him so Xiaotian knew never to touch them.

He wore a yellow top with a green scarf over his neck, red bottoms and a white belt to tighten everything up. Dark boots to complement the outfit.

“Listen I want to talk to you…about Wukong…a-about me? Argh its so confusing when you’re your older you voice of reason…”

The prince sat down next to the young king, seeing he has no intention in hurting him. Seeing Wukong struggle made him feel a bit bad.

“I got an idea…why don’t we you Mk here? It can help you see the differentiate between the two of you”

“But that’s your nickname…Mei gave it to you from that game-”

“Monkey Mech” Said at the same time both of them looked each other and laughed.

“How are you here if My dad gave me a seal?”

“Oh Liu’er is good at seals…but I’m better~ so I just opened and closed the seal like nothing happened…and besides Im not a threat so it’s not gonna hurt me”

Satisfied with the answer Xiaotian decided to sit close to the young king and started talking.

They talked about everything, about Flower Fruit Mountain, about their respective firends, about Macaque, and about their fears.

“No way, Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven is afraid of preforming in front of a crowed?!” Xiaotian laughed in disbelief as Mk, Monkey King, laughed on his back.

“I know I know! It doesn’t make sense!! Ahhh I haven’t laughed like that in over maybe a Millennia? Ahhh that was something!”

Xiaotian laughing filled the young king up with joy, he needed this. The boy away from his home and his father because of his stupid and selfish self. Sure it wasn’t him but his older self, in the young king’s ming he felt guilty and needed to take responsibility for it.

“Xiaotian? I want to apologize for what Wukong is doing…to you and your family…I want you to know that I did everything I could to stop him…I swear…I didn’t…I didn’t want you to get hurt…you’re just a cub and-” Mk said trying to hold his tears, he seen everything he heard everything but did nothing, COULDN’T do anything. With his hands he wiped away his tears the most he could.

Xiaotian hugged the crying king and held him tight. Like his father did when he was crying.

“Hey hey its ok I know you did the most you could…And I appreciate it so much…you’re NOT Wukong, Mk…you’re the Monkey King…”

Mk wanted to say something but just kept crying, saying sorry and held the prince tightly. Feeling the prince’s tears, hearing his ‘I know, its ok, not your fault’ calmed the young king.

“I-Its almost morning…you’ll be waking up soon…”

“W-will I see you again?”

Mk froze and looked at the prince, who was pleading with his eyes. The young king smiled and cupped Xiaotian’s face.

“As long as you want me…I will visit…”

They gave one final hug as everything went white.

~~~~

“Mk? Kid?” Pigsy’s voice rang softly to MK’s ears, waking him up slowly. “It’s mornin’ kid you got the day off today…wanna go to over to Mei’s with Redson?”

Mk just nodded and sat up, he looked at the pilgrim. The pilgrim sighed and looked at the boy sadly.

“No Xiaotian…he…he still hasn’t called nor came by…”

Mk nodded layed back down facing away from Pigsy. Hurt, the pig demon placed a hand on the boy’s head and sighed.

“I’ll call Ao Lie and let him know you’re coming”

Xiaotian heard Pigsy get up and walk out the room. He look at the rising sun and remembered the words of Mk as he smiled

‘As long as you want me…I will visit…’

~~~~

“Where the hell were you?”

“Oh I thought you wanted me gone~”

“I do…but that doesn’t mean I can’t ask where you’ve been”

“I guess so” The young King smiled as he felt a strong weight off his chest…

Hehehe its so beautiful and I love it😩💕✨

I have another fix that I’m keeping cuz there is a comic to do on it, but yes the fact that wukong can get in MK mind it’s a thing, a thing that in the good (like this) or in the bad ( like the other fic I have) has to be stopped.

But this all intersection kinda spoilers us all “season 3” we will eventually get there😂

#ask #six eared macaque #sun wokung #qi xiaotian #shadow king

[the11tailedwrites]

Day 27-28 | Flinching | Sleep Deprived

@hidden-scarlet-whispers have some good mentor Osiris stuff :3

|

Crow hadn’t slept in a while. It was hard to do so when The Spider had just sent him a message containing images of him asleep. He wasn’t safe in his own house. He kept moving, it was easier to not sleep.

Now he sat in the Helm. He felt safer here. Far away from The Spider. The Spider couldn’t touch him at the Helm.

The Spider wasn’t supposed to be able to touch him in the city.

“Crow,” a voice.

A hand on his shoulder.

Crow jumped, falling out of his chair and throwing his arms up to defend himself.

”Crow, it’s alright,” came a familiar voice.

It was Osiris. Not The Spider. Osiris.

Osiris held out a hand and Crow took it. Even without the light, Osiris pulled Crow to his feet.

”Are you alright? You have been slacking on your work,” said Osiris, blunt as ever.

”I’m sorry, I’ll pick up my pace,” said Crow

”That-“ Osiris trailed off, grimacing, “You look like you haven’t slept,”

”I haven’t,” Crow admitted.

Why was Osiris so much easier to talk to than anyone else? Was it because he was blunt? Was it because he wouldn’t look at Crow with pity? Was it because, even if he was a complete ass, Humanity was always his first priority? Crow respected Osiris (not Savathun playing as him. This Osiris. He respected the Osiris standing in front of him) because he was the only one who didn’t treat him like glass.

”Why?” asked Osiris.

There was no tone in his words. Crow liked it that way.

”The Spider’s been sending me threats,” Crow admits, “Hard to sleep when you’ve been sent images of you asleep,”

”Have you told anyone else about this?” asked Osiris, head tilting to the side.

”No. You’re the first person I’ve told,” Crow admitted

”I don’t think I am the perfect person to tell, I am not great at comfort,” Osiris said

”But you’re the only one who won’t look at me with pity,” Crow said, firmly.

A rare smile crossed Osiris’ face.

”I will talk to Zavala for you. I won’t say your name and be as vague as I can, but you should sleep. You know where Saint and I live, yes?”

”I do, why?” asked Crow

”Saint is home right now, go, I’ll let him know you’re coming,”

Crow stared for a long moment, eyes stinging.

”Why?”

”Is it so hard to understand that Saint and I are fond of you, little bird?” said Osiris

”Maybe a little,”

Osiris laughed.

#whumpuary2024 #the crow #osiris #osiris and crow bonding post season of plunder

[hiddenwashington]

neverafter meme pt. 2

a meme made months ago but submitted for clue 12 !!!

“behind you are two geese. one of them is good and one of them is evil.”

“everyone stand on the girl child with broken bones”

“sister– what gives?”

“you got it, dad!”

“hey! be careful who you’re talking to! i’m a really nice pre-teen!”

“great, gender reveal crow”

“two brilliant actors. you guys are going to get into the school play this year, for sure.”

“they’re not dirty here, they’re unnatural.”

“i’m going to do a courageous act of cowardice.”

“i mean, as someone who just ate one, it was great for me.”

“are you also a cusping pre-teen?”

“i gotta get you on the garnish train.”

“we’re all on our own in the dark, little boy!”

“[blank]’s become metal as hell!”

“you were special when you were young, and then you fucking went through puberty, and now you’re just ugly!”

“hey, i’ll trade bites in the name of girl bonding”

“am i always supposed to be scared?”

“and sometimes, i think, you also have to be a little bit scary in scary times.”

“deep in your heart, do you feel that you are a man or a frog?”

“answer however you feel, you’re allowed to grow.”

“and now here they are, hardcore thrashing at a party”

“relax you’ve been at a sleepover party.”

“roll for gaslight” - this is so unusable as an rp starter but im losing it

“it was an adult sleepover! a non-sexual adult sleepover.”

“can i help because i have a keen eye for authority?”

“this kid knows where to tell on people.”

“you’re the man to stand up and say ‘adult sleepover gone wrong, my bad, but we’ll get through this as a community.”

“there is a lot of intuitive knowledge in this little body of yours”

“you gotta accept it before you embrace it”

“you’re not a monster.”

“true love isn’t real! don’t worry about it! i’m going to die alone, and so is everybody else, isn’t that great?”

“i’ll think about it, i’ll give it a good noodle.”

“wet, nude spiders on your 12, your 10, your 11,, your 1, your 2.”

“leave me to the ladies.”

“you’re nodding at me like i’m supposed to get something.”

“meow baby, meow meow– okay.”

“you see the smile of a devil you never believed in”

“the most fairy tale shit we’ve done so far is subject kids to shit they absolutely do not deserve.”

“it feels kinda rude to just start throwing fire around but i’m down.”

“i just like little guys.”

“everyone loves a fucking underdog, but i’m a fucking actual dog.”

“you’re about to get your ass kicked, man.”

“don’t need it, but thanks babe! *kisses on both cheeks*”

“look, there’s two kinds of people. there’s scratches people and there’s deeper into the ink people.”

“you’re nothing more than scratches of ink on someone else’s paper”

“oh god dammit are we an acapella group now?”

“i think this makes me want to disobey my elders, when i hear this.”

“it’s not fun to tell the truth! it’s much funner to lie.” 

“if i sing it maybe it’ll be better.”

“from man to man, you need to chill.”

“do you pick the bits before, or do we just– find them?”

“there’s a lot of mean moms around, huh?”

“sometimes you say things in the heat of the moment because you want to protect somebody”

“i feel like a lot of children, the entire moral of their story, they’re just a tool to tell some stupid moral, and the morals are fucking wrong. the adults are wrong, like, so often.”

“ugh! i’m so sick of adults!”

“you just didn’t say anything! not saying anything sometimes is just as bad as a lie, or maybe it’s even worse!”

“can i say? i don’t fucking know you.”

“[blank], that’s torture, right? that’s, like, fucked up shit, right?”

“i guess, sort of, how?”

“i followed a caterpillar that was chasing a butterfly”

“so what it was my grandma’s time, but not my time?”

“i met death, and death wants me to live!”

“i literally can’t believe what you kids have been through.”

“i don’t think you can be a prick when you’re ten.. you’re just ten.”

“us talking is fucking them over– everyone kiss each other!”

“it’s been kind of hard, but good lessons to learn.”

“don’t learn lessons from my torment!”

#meme day

[jackwolfes]

“Blanket agreement,” Jesper offers, waving a hand lazily like it doesn’t take all that much thought. Matthias’ head is spinning. “Just for friends, because he gets drunk and likes to kiss Roeder.” 

this is a follow up to a new kind of understanding

–

He’s a small kid, but Wylan’s age. His talents are better suited to shadows, which Wylan just can’t relate to. The skills he has, well, by their very nature they banish darkness with a pop and a bang. 

Roeder is different.

He listens more than he talks, but that’s okay. Wylan doesn’t mind. He has a big mouth when he’s drunk, and usually when he sees Roeder, he’s drunk. 

It’s a sideways slide on his chair that ends up resting his forehead on Jesper’s shoulder. Vaguely, Wylan hears someone laugh, and doesn’t think it’s the man below him, but he also doesn’t care. He’s not too drunk. He could walk home on his own and be plenty safe. He just also knows that he’d be most pleased if Jesper took him home himself, by the cart at the end of one of the smaller canals along the way that sells hot potato pieces with cheese.

“Having fun?” Jesper murmurs. 

“Yeah,” Wylan replies. He thinks he’s close to slurring his words, maybe. Who knows? “The most fun, Jes.” 

And he is– the middle of the Crow Club is a place he likes being, surrounded by friends in all forms. He grins, eyes slipping shut as he floats along in the noise of people, people, people. He hears Jesper laugh again, chest jostling his cheek where it rests on his shoulder. 

“I’ll get you water,” Jesper laughs. Wylan frowns. 

“I can get myself my own water,” he complains. Now he thinks voice is definitely slurred, and he doesn't want to think about that, because Jesper will tease him for it and he doesn’t want to be teased. Already when he pulls back he can see a fond smile on his face, a stupid grin that he loves so much. 

“You don’t have to,” Jesper says, but Wylan is stubborn. He sits up, and Jesper shifts, and Wylan– he’s certainly not having that. He reaches a hand out to press against Jesper’s waist, all but shoving him backwards on his chair. He hears his boyfriend chuckle. “Okay, okay,” Jesper yields. He raises his hands. Wylan stands on wobbly legs, nodding like he can assure himself he’s fine. Jesper laughs again. “Don’t fall.”

Wylan ignores him, but doesn’t fall.

He gets water from the bar and feels flush with the noise, the heat. A bit too flush. Ghezen, he’s warm, and he doesn’t quite want to think about the fact that inevitably someone will tell him it’s just because he’s drunk. He knows he’s drunk, and knows that the fact he’s warm is a different thing altogether – the people, the bodies, the noise. 

Maybe it’s also because he’s drunk. 

Either way, he makes his way out the back door of the club, slipping past people with his cup of water left somewhere. He doesn’t even stumble, and finds himself a bit too proud. He just pushes the door open and sinks into the breath of cool air. 

For a moment, Wylan just stands there. He breathes in the night air, the clear sky, the little tucked away corner of the alley looking out onto a tiny little canal that runs behind the East Stave. Carefully, he perches himself on a low stone wall – not directly above the water, because he isn’t stupid, but not far from it. He hears the quiet splashing waves of a browboat, just gone.

Roeder is small. He’s slight, and best suited to the shadows. Never once has he actually explained how he came to be in Ketterdam, but that tracks for a Spider. Wylan doesn’t pry. 

Roeder is quiet, too, and like every good spider, his voice is a surprise. 

“Are you okay?” 

His voice is soft. It carries on the night air exactly how he wants it to: he’s getting better at that. No Inej, of course not, but not bad as far as spiders go. He makes Wylan startle, just a little bit, and doesn’t even apologise. To appear without anyone being any wiser might just be all a spider really needs to do.

He blinks, looking up to see him tucked into his coat, standing where Wylan had just been. He wonders if he’s been followed. He finds it hard to focus on the thought. 

Instead, Wylan tips his head to the side. He doesn’t really mean to, but can’t quite help it. Carefully, he nods. “Just sort of drunk,” he offers. Roeder smiles. His laugh is silent. Wylan looks up at him. 

They’re friends, and that’s a strange, novel thing. Friends. Not friends in the way Wylan is friends with Kaz and Inej, or Nina, or Matthias, and certainly not the way in which he’s friends with Jesper. The six of them are friends in the most soul-shattering, total way, and Wylan feels them like a part of himself. 

He’s friends with Roeder in a different way, because Roeder is different from all of his friends, and that’s a delightful thing. Wylan has variety, options, choice. He has friends, and plenty of them – his closest friends, but plenty more that like him, that he likes. Anika and Keeg, Pim, Rotty, Roeder. He’s nineteen in a few weeks and the head of an empire, vibrant in his youth and delighted by all the options for a life he has laid out before him. There’s none of the isolated loneliness he had as a boy, hiding away and trying as hard as he could to manage the whims of his father. 

Wylan kisses Roeder first. 

It’s a blanket agreement, and Wylan can’t really remember the first time it was brought up. He thinks it was him that said it, because Jesper’s never been one to talk about fancying other people. It must have been Wylan, then, and he thinks – vaguely – that he can remember humming and laughing and saying, he’s cute, and Jesper offering out the opportunity. You can kiss him, if you want.

Wylan had wanted. 

Just for friends, because friends understand he’s in love with Jesper and just kissing them to kiss them. Just friends, although really, he isn’t kissing that many people. Anika had laughed and offered, and he’d wrinkled up his nose, and she’d kissed the top of his forehead and said he was missing out, but left it. He hadn’t minded. 

But Roeder–

Wylan pushes his hands through his hair, silky-soft and dark black. He thinks he’s part Shu, even with a Kerch name, but Roeder never said and Wylan never asked. He doesn’t care to ask, and doesn’t even really care to talk. All he does is sink into the kiss with the taste of delight on his lips. He hums. 

It’s strange. He’d kissed a few boys before being dragged by a Barrel boss out to Fjerda – a tutor once, a kitchen boy, the councilman’s grandson out in the meadow behind an old house down south, when half the families on the Council had decided to go off on a weekend away when Wylan was fourteen. 

He hadn’t liked any of them, not like he likes Jesper – but they hadn’t even been friends. There had been no attraction, no arousal, not at that age. Just innocent curiosity, and a knowledge that he wanted things plenty of other boys didn’t seem to want – except some did, and they kissed him back. 

They’d been different to Jesper, and they’re different still to Roeder.

The backdoor of the Club bangs open with noise – too much, too sudden. Roeder steps away first. Wylan blinks, startled by the absence of a warm body in front of him, fingers still feeling the soft press of his hair. He looks up to the door on instinct, now that he’s flooded with light, and sees Jesper blink – probably surprised to see Wylan out here. 

When he looks back, Roeder’s gone. 

“I thought you ran off,” Jesper says. He’s half-scolding, but not really: mostly just laughing. Wylan sways. He’s lightheaded. His lips tingle. Oh, he wants to keep being kissed stupid. Jesper’s eyes glint like he’s realised, and understood. “Where’d Roeder go?” 

“Don’t know,” Wylan manages. He’s a little bit dizzy. 

“I know you’re out here, you little skiv,” Jesper calls, still laughing. “You don’t have to keep hiding whenever I show up.”

He doesn’t get a reply. 

Jesper scoffs, but Wylan can tell that he’s fond. He likes Roeder too, just– in a different way than Wylan does. He steps closer to Wylan anyway, and kisses him gently on the lips. Wylan hums. 

This is perfect.  

“Bye, Roeder,” he calls into the night. Then he giggles, and Jesper loops an arm around his waist, keeping him upright when his body starts to tip and list towards the floor. He doesn’t get a reply to that either, but that’s okay. 

Jesper takes him home.

#wesper #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #six of crows #soc #crooked kingdom #fics

[solardick]

Portents are strong today. A soider a dove, teo geese, and a criw all in sync. With present happenings. One after the other.

But, i don’t think those pills are working. Not today.

I saw a pretty girl today. She has those eyes. Those. Intense peircing eyes. That i like. And she has a turn on. Its her neck. I can tell. The guy was too much. I wuestion if he was flirting. But she thought. No. As she seemed to measure me up. I want to go back and ask her what she thi ks about god.

I deal with people like this all day. He says. Have you ever had a hard on when you take a shit? Like it touches the right spot. And you get turned on?

….. no nate ive never had a hard on taking a shit before. Jesus fuck. Had a prostate test done once. Where’s the hype? I think they think i have sexula identity issues. Nope. Last i checked i have a penis.

Ok. Spider on my boot. Running late. Go figure Aries season. Hot tempers. Get a lift and some bite to eat. Two geese fly by. As one walks up to the door. Comes back to say something immoral. And light a smoke. Crow goes by. As he goes back in the teo geese fly by but, not together.

The dove was an after effect it seems. There she was. Perched on the lines slender and soft. I said hello. Or hey dove. And she hoowed back. Maybe that was coincende without the magic. Its was neat though. Cause she looked.

But my new coleage is taken out. And now. There’s literally no one i want to work with stick with these asshole saying bs. Like the above. Or the complete opposite. Oh yeah im the shit i get so much pussy. 🙄 or the other guy cursing and swearing all fucken day. Foot uo uour ass this my foot up your ass that. Fucken cocksuker. Fuck this fuck that. What you prettending to be my father? Suprise gifts in the van im supposed to unload found by someone else. Ugh. Day in day out. Its kike they’re not even trying anymore.

Well i guess ibs is out.

Start lookign for another job i guess. Not like i’ll fond one. But, maybe.

I dont force my words on anyone. People like trouble. Cause they tet to act and be superior. Rightious. Or so crap like that. I dont know. I cant think like that. Goes agaisnt instinct. And if i was involved i’d be like thouse better people who sit by and watch without intent. Half of them are criminal. Yup. Thats life. And that right! I get it. I sense it. Never relished always apart. Over 20 years. I was raised in this. Bred in one direction. Someone else’s. Maybe thats why god talks to me. Its the only real relationship i have. Not a trace if me seeing anything destructive or ill intent on. With concern about tossing my butt on the ground and not putting it in my pocket. Even though im conflicted cause i smoke. And alot of these portents all speak around quitting smoking. And, they keep fucken woth me. Controling output.

That was nice though. A few solid seconds of hard eye contact. Got to keep the tempo low. Bass. Its in the tone. Not really having one. More like static.

When the mind goes into this state. And life is found in these words. And not corrupted out by bs. But they keep on me. And keep bronging it back. Wasting my time. Year after year.

🤷🏻‍♂️ if you talk to nature. Nature talks back. None of these people get that. My family didnt get it either. Neither did anynof my friends. My enemies…. I took anpicturenof the clouds on the opposite side of the eclipse. Wanna see? If you havent already.

Taken at 3:33 pm or 15:33 pm. As time has its own rule to add to the cards.

Over the constelations of Cepheus across to the star Polaris. Below is draco the dragon hovering over the parking lot. What used to do is try and fond connections in mythology. To describe the constelations or add life to its. Pluralized. You wouldn’t use a plural for it. Could say them. But, it’s not a person.

Like type a search.

Well thats not true.

I found a missing word in our language. Its so obvious. Maybe that comes woth learning a new alphabet and different grammar. Thats cool. Still. Wheres my word? I dont want to personalize portents or omens. Yin and yang. Personalize objects. Maybe its a cause of mental illness having an incomplete language. Sundenly tripping balls on gods knows what. And stuff starts coming alive and speaking. Cartons have onjects and furniture alive with personalilities maybe that a reason as to why that word foesnt exist. Its all in the control of the fantasy.

And i dont have the strength or the courage to leave. Ao just keep fucken with me.

But its great. I get to yell at someone all day. While they say. Yeah, no, it’s ok.

Liar.

[goldengoddess]

i worry about you - kaz brekker

request: ok what about kaz sending inej to check up on his s/o every night and then his s/o catches inej one day and confronts kaz about it and he basically admits he gets worried about them and needs to know they’re okay before he lets himself fall asleep

a/n: this was kind of cute and very in character for kaz so i love it <3

warnings: none i think 

at first you hadn’t noticed it. you hadn’t really picked up on the fact that every other night inej would walk you to your room at the slat or that she would knock on your door for something random like, ‘oh what time are we getting up tomorrow morning’. inej’s sudden interest in your nightly routine and nightly where abouts hadn’t made you suspicious, the two of you were good friends after all.

but then, on the nights that inej didn’t stop by your room, you felt like you were being watched. you would pace around your room, open and close the door after checking if someone was standing outside, and you’d make sure the blinds of your windows where closed every night.

then one night, you caught her. maybe she was being clumsy that night or maybe you had been so paranoid recently that you were able to notice the Wraith’s movements.

“inej come out of the shadows please” you had sternly said, your arms firmly crossed across your chest.

you heard a small sigh and then suddenly inej materialized from the shadows. she wore a sheepish grin like a child who was caught taking candy after dinner.

“hey y/n what are you doing here” she lightly joked.

you almost let yourself smile, this girl. but you kept your fake stern face on, “inej, what are you doing in my room? it’s almost midnight and i saw you like an hour ago.”

she let out another sigh. she thought for a moment. and the spoke, “look i was just checking in on you. you seemed sort of down at dinner and i wanted to make sure everything was okay, honestly.”

you had let yourself smile at her then. it was so sweet that she had noticed.

really, you had been bummed out all night because kaz seemed to be in and even worse mood than usual and his moods always affected yours.

“i’m okay inej, just an odd night. i appreciate the fact that you checked in, but for future reference, i’m perfectly okay if you decide to use my door like a normal person”

she grinned while walking backwards to your window, “you know that’s not my style y/n.” and then she flipped out the window like the spider she was.

but that wasn’t inej’s last visit. and she didn’t use the door like you’d told her too. now that you knew to look out for her, it was easier to notice when she slipped into your room and then slipped out.

she’d stay for a couple of seconds and then leave. in and out like a ghost, leaving no trail of her being there. but now that you’d seen her you couldn’t un see her. and this wasn’t some friendly check in, you weren’t sad or in a bad mood every night. and she came into your room every night.

after about two weeks of this weird unexplainable routine of inej’s, you decided to say something.

you were sitting on your bed reading when you let out an exasperated sigh and closed the book. you blew some hair away from your face before saying, “saints inej please come out.”

you got deja vu as she walked out of the darkness. “you heard me again?” she said to you, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

you shook your head, “i’ve been able to tell every time you’re in here since the last time i caught you. don’t forget you’re not the only spy here Wraith.”

she stayed silent, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“tell me why you’re here. why you sneak into my room every night” you said.

she took a seat on your bed next to you. “i’m checking in on you” is all she gave you.

you threw your hands up in frustration, “why inej. you know i’m fine why do you feel the need to check in all of a sudden. are you okay?”

she laughed at your concern, leaning her head on your shoulder. “im checking in because kaz told me to check in on you.”

you pushed her off of you in shock, “kaz brekker? the kaz that we’re both friends with ? both work with?”

she nodded her head, “the one and only.”

you shook your head in disbelief, “why would kaz ask you to do that?”

she shrugged and pushed herself off the bed, shuffling towards the window. “i’m not sure. he told me to do is a few months ago and-”

“months?!” you interject.

“-and he takes it very seriously. i always have to go upstairs and tell him everything is okay.”

you were confused to say the least, you didn’t understand why kaz would ask inej to check on you every night. so you stayed silent. inej took that as her cue to leave, slipping out the window the same way she had weeks before.

you waited a few minutes. you mulled over your thoughts and memories, looking for any reason that kaz might need to know your location at night. had you done something wrong ? did he suspect you were betraying him? you felt a little hurt at the thought. you and kaz were close, closer than he was with the rest of the crows. he should know that you would never leave the dregs, they had saved your life. kaz had saved your life.

you shook your head and walked out of your room. why not just ask? it couldn’t hurt right? kaz may never give a straight answer in his life but maybe he would tell inej to back off.

by the time you made it to his door you were slightly angry, possibly annoyed. what right did kaz have to spy on you using one of your own friends. was there no such thing as privacy ?

you knocked on the door and waited for kaz’s ‘come in’ to step into his room/office.

he was sitting at his desk, hunched over a couple of accounting books from the crow club. you knew him well enough to know he was double checking every transaction to make sure there were no mistakes.

he looked up and pushed the papers away from him when he realized it was you. “oh y/n, it’s you.”

you huffed and walked over to him, standing in front of his desk. “yeah it’s me. i need to talk to you about something.”

he leaned back in his chair, motioning with his arms for you to go on.

you took a deep breath, “why have you asked inej to check on me every night?”

his eyes went wide slightly, and he sat up straight in his chair. all of his relaxed energy gone.

you went on, “because frankly it’s disrespectful. i don’t do anything that would make you suspicious of me. you know i would never leave or betray the dregs. so why do you ask my friend of all people to check on my location at night time kaz this is an invasion of my space and i can’t-”

“that is not why inej checks in on you” he interrupts.

you placed your hands on your hips. “okay so tell me brekker, why do you need inej to check in on me?”

he ran a hand through his hair. it kind of seemed like he was having an internal battle with himself.

“because i worry about you.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, your eyebrows creasing in confusion. “what?”

he was staring at his gloved hands, anywhere but you. “i worry about you. i want to make sure you get home okay or that you’re relaxed. i don’t make her check because i think you’re out working with another gang. i ask her to check to make sure you’re safe. especially if you came back from a job.”

you stayed silent for a minute. you had come in here ready for a fight, not this. you were prepared to fight or endure kaz’s passive aggressive energy for a couple of hours, you most definitely hadn’t prepared yourself for his honesty.

“but why would you want to know i was safe?”

he chucked darkly. “it’s not that i want to. i need to. unless i know you’re okay i can’t sleep. i’ll stay up for hours overthinking your job and how i wasn’t sure if i had seen you at dinner or playing cards with jesper. and then my mind wanders into all of the things that could have happened to you or could be happening to you. so inej tells me when you’re in your room safe and not in pain and only then can i fall asleep.”

neither of you said a word. you fidgeted with your fingers as a distraction. you were in shock. you were flattered. the blush on your cheeks far too hot. you were feeling so much.

but mostly you felt loved and cherished by kaz.

so you said, “sometimes when you’re in a mood. i get in a mood. it’ll ruin my whole night because i know for the rest of my day i’ll worry about you. and whether you’re feeling better or not. thinking about what made you pissed in the first place. thinking about all of the people who could make you happy in that moment.”

he deserved your vulnerability back.

when it became clear that kaz wasn’t going to say anything, you made your way to his door.

“wait”

you paused at the door

“i’ll tell inej to back off”

you turned towards him and he was finally looking at you.

you smiled at him, “thank you kaz.” you paused for a moment. “maybe tomorrow night, and the night after that, and the night after that, i’ll come in here and say good night? right after my jobs and when i’m heading to bed. would that be okay?”

if he needed the reassurance that you were okay to sleep, then you would happily climb two flights of stairs to give him that peace of mind.

plus you couldn’t deny the excitement you felt at the prospect of saying good night to kaz.

kaz had a small grin on his face too. “yeah,” he whispered, “that would be fine.”

you opened the door and before you lost your courage you said, “and kaz. you can always come down to my room to say goodnight. i like knowing you’re safe too.”

you stepped through the door and closed it behind you.

“good night brekker” you called out behind you.

#Kaz Brekker #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker imagine #six of crows #six of crows imagine #inej gahfa #inej gahfa x reader #shadow and bone #nina zenik #jesper fahey #Grishaverse #grisha #leigh bardugo

[murswrites]

Spiders And Toy Soldiers ⎯ Kaz Brekker One-Shot

Pairings: Kaz Brekker x Reader, SOC canon pairings Fandom: Grishaverse MASTERLIST Word Count: 2,139 Warnings: Six of Crows Spoilers, mentions of a fem looking reader for sake of the plot, wee bit of tension SUMMARY: You’re the leader of a mostly fem gang called the Black Widows and the leader of your rivaling gang, Kaz Brekker is in need of some help. Request from @maybanksslut​: kaz brekker x reader with rivals to lovers? like maybe they're two different gangs and rival all the time, but once they do a job together?

A/N Um... I’ve been trying to finish this since you requested and honestly forgot where I was going with it. I might finish it one day but here’s a half-baked fic that’s mostly exposition :) Maybe one day I’ll writing a second part?

Also, I know it might see similar to @magpiencrow​‘s piece, “Black Widow” but at the time I started writing this, I wasn’t aware she wrote a Kaz piece with the same premise of Y/N being a gang leader! You can read her piece here :) (it’s amazing!!)

Everyone in the Barrel knew of the rivalry between the Dregs and your gang, the Black Widows. Two completely different gangs but both equally feared. You were well aware of the things people said about you, “They’ve got a scorpion’s tail that’ll prick you when you turn your back!”, “My brother got a good look once and now he’s blind.”

There were about a hundred different names used to describe you. But the one you laughed at the most was Medusa. “A gang named after spiders and the leader’s a fuckin’ snake.” The memory of blinding the man who said that never left your mind, none of them did. But you didn’t let it affect you outwardly.

It was beautiful being untouchable. Some people would try to take you down, but your loyal members would sweep them under the rug as if they were toy soldiers. Your widows are far more effective than any male soldier. A gang of women run by someone who nobody has ever lived to tell an accurate account of.

Despite your terrifying reputation, you’re hardly 18. A youngster, just like Kaz Brekker… the boy known as Dirty Hands aka your biggest rival. You two never met but you’ve dealt with his little bird, Inej Ghafa aka the Wraith. A pretty girl with a tendency to spy on you.

You hated how she managed to squeeze her way past your defenses but one night it was more than necessary. The Wraith had a proposition, from Dirty Hands himself… a bloody truce between yourself and the Dregs.

When the words left the Wraith’s mouth, you laughed in her face. “A truce? With the Dregs? Darling, I’m afraid to tell you this, but Kaz Brekker doesn’t run the Dregs. I’m well aware he fronts as the boss but I’m sure Per Haskell would love to hear of this little truce Dirty Hands has cooked up.”

A Widow chuckled to herself which prompted you to glare in her direction, “Out, now.” She nodded and left without another word. “Ms. Ghafa, I’m sure you’re well aware that Black Widows don’t have partners… left alone allies.”

“What if there were 30 million Kruge involved?”

Of course, this piqued your interest, 30 million split between a small team would land everyone into retirement if they choose so. You knew there was a catch, 30 million Kruge is only certain if the crew dies in the process… no one would ever throw away that much money.

“Any job paying that much means certain death,”

Your right-hand man leaned closer and whispered in your ear. “Word is Pekka Rollins knows about this, we could all be free if you take the offer.”

Jeska’s words weighed heavy on your chest. “We” included yourself, despite escaping from hell, you still had plenty of people to pay off. You looked around the office at each of the ladies, the gang was more than just a group of people using one another.

It’s a family and you’d do anything to keep them safe. Including risking your life. “Set up a meeting, Wraith. It’s time I finally meet Mr. Brekker.”

--

Nothing would truly prepare you for what was to come. You walked down the cobbled streets with Widows all around you, a scarf covered your face. It was all a part of the lore, the mysterious leader of the Black Widows. No one got a chance to get too close as you walked into The Crow Club.

A hush fell over the room, everyone in the Barrel knew trouble by smell alone. And to anyone involved, you entering Dreg territory was surely trouble. As though she were truly a phantom, Inej appeared in front of you. “Follow me.”

You recognized a few faces here and there, Jesper Fahey stood out to you as his jaw practically dropped to the floor. A smirk made its way onto your face, it was entertaining watching everyone lose their marbles upon seeing you.

Inej knocked on the door and whispered to someone-- presumably Kaz Brekker --behind the door. “He’s inside.”

“Get the door,” You said to Jeska.

--

It was strange to say the least, agreeing to work with the enemy. Kaz Brekker and his army of Dregs… even if it isn’t his army if one is being technical. His bargain was simple: you and a few trusted confidantes would join his team and everyone would get at least 2 million Kruge if the job was completed.

That much money would be enough to save your life. You wouldn’t pass up such an opportunity. Everyone’s fate was now tied together by means of a contract with your and Kaz’s signatures.

The preparations had to be done quickly so that the likes of Pekka Rollins couldn’t take the prize from beneath your noses. With both of your forces combined, everything went smoothly up until the night you had to leave. You were well aware that Kaz planted a dummy boat, but you hadn’t expected so many of Rollins’ men to show up.

You nearly suffered a fatal stab wound if not for Inej getting in the way. It was pure chaos. But the drüskelle you broke out of Hellgate, managed to fend for himself quite well. Two of your ladies were too wounded to manage the trip but well enough to get home safe. You hated the part of yourself that thought about more money coming your way.

--

Unbeknownst to Kaz, you’ve known about Jurda Parem for a few weeks. One of your messengers practically stumbled upon some important intel that came in from Shu Han. Apparently, something had changed in the Grisha world. Some of them were doing impossible stunts; even for a Grisha.

You heard of Heartrenders controlling others' minds… even going so far as to immobilize them. It frightened you, to hear of the effects of this drug on the mind of a Grisha. Something inside you wondered what it could do to you and your horrible ability to summon storms. Nobody knew you were part Grisha.

Hell, even you hardly knew if it were true. You’d never grown up around other Grisha so your talents were left untapped. But as you grew up, you tried to use the power bestowed upon you… and every time you ended up hurting someone (usually yourself).

--

The plan was simple-- as simple as a 30 million kruge heist could be --in and out, grab the scientist… and live to see the day you’d get your money. “That’s easy enough,” You joked, everyone stared at you like a fish out of water. Even the Fjerdan thought you were odd. 

The crew was small so that the chances of word getting out were low. Nobody could know you were leaving the country. The lie you came up with was simple, you were busy and needed to focus inside for a while.

With the plan complete by the time you made it to northern Fjerda, all that was there to do was execute it. Kaz was smarter than he looked and it impressed you that he hadn’t tried to pull the rug beneath your feet before the truce.

Only you would come to complete the job, the rest of your crew would stay on the boat. Didn’t need any more death on your hands.

The entire walk to the Ice Court was miserable, the cold made your bones ache, it reminded you of starving on the streets of Ketterdam. Alongside the Fjerdan and Grisha girl bickering it made you more than annoyed. Surrounded by people you didn’t know, you felt hellishly out of place.

A single thought plagued your mind the entire way there, “If I’m the only one from my team, who’s to say these idiots would save me?” It made you a bit paranoid, they’re not exactly the easiest bunch of people to trust. 

Either way, you had to pull through because by the end of it you’d get at least 2 million kruge… a sum of money that’d set you free forever. 

“Please tell me I’m not the only one whose feet have gone fuckin’ numb.” You complained and drew the coat in closer, “It’s like I’m standing in an ice bath,”

Jesper sticks his hand up, “Haven’t felt them since we got off the boat,” His breath was clear to even your eyes as you trailed toward the end of the group. 

You shivered and kept walking before the Grisha, Nina Zenik tapped you on the shoulder. “I could warm you up?” You sensed the slightly flirty tone along with genuine concern.

Part of you wanted to say yes, but at the same time, this could be where you die. You shook off the negative thoughts, “Please,” You said quietly. Nina offered a small smile as you opened the coat. She pressed her hands to your chest and suddenly warmth flowed through your entire body. “Oh saints, that’s wonderful.”

Inej gave you an odd look. That must’ve been the first time she’s ever heard you say please. All that spying and she’s never seen an ounce of gratitude. “Sometimes being Grisha is nice--” Her sentence was cut short upon seeing what looked to be bodies burning, it took a second for you to realize what was happening.

Despite your lack of knowledge of Fjerda and its supposed “Witch hunters”, you knew what was happening just by Nina’s reaction. They were burning Grisha on stakes. Everyone watched with various degrees of horror, even the boy who has probably burned many Grisha looked unsettled.

--

By the time you’d made it to the city of Djerholm, it’s like the world was turned upside down. Each and every building was a different, vibrant shade of the rainbow. It was beautiful. You couldn’t help the awed look on your face as the group walked through the city. Ketterdam’s dark and brooding nature could never combat the vibrant colors of Djerholm.

“Have you ever seen the rainbow?” Jesper jokes, bumping his shoulder into yours. He got comfortable quite quickly.

“Why’re you being so friendly? Aren’t you the same lad whose jaw fell upon seeing me?” You asked curiously, eyeing the young man intently.

Jesper’s smile dropped as he began to look nervous, “Nobody’s talking and you seem-- um…”

You struggle not to laugh at his embarrassment, “Calm down I don’t actually bite.” You whispered to him. The light in his eyes was obvious upon hearing you make a joke.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Kaz glance back toward you two. Probably just making sure you don’t kill Jesper.

Once on the roof of a tavern, Kaz explains exactly how he plans to enter the Ice Court. “We’re to pose as prisoners?” You wonder, “What if the Fjerdans know what the prisoners look like?”

“It’s our only way in, we have to hope they’re not that thorough.”

“They are,” Said the Fjerdan. “It may have changed in a year, but… they have lists of who’s coming in and out.”

“So we find prisoners we look like then?”

Kaz shakes his head, “That will take too long, we won’t have much time to get inside the wagon.”

You wiped your hands on your pants. “Isn’t it a Grisha thing to be able to modify physical appearances?” You wonder, “You’re a heartrender… can’t you tailor too?”

“When’d you learn about Grisha schools?” Nina asks, tilting her head to the side.

“I’ve picked up things here and there,” You explained simply, leaving it at that.

--

The Ice Court was supposed to be the hardest place in the world to break into… and a bunch of teenagers managed to do just that. Sure, the way Kaz went about it was a bit… unorthodox but it worked, didn’t it?

When it came time to get out of the wagon, the guards made a fuss upon seeing you.

“What’s this one? Paper doesn’t say if it’s a man or woman.” It was hard to keep a straight face. Thankfully, Nina tailored you to seem more feminine for a short while so you could help her and Inej on their end of things. With the boys being four and the girls (without you) being only two, it seemed fair.

“Looks like a girl to me?”

And that was that. Soon everyone was in their cells. The heist truly began in those moments as you, Nina, and Inej waited for Kaz and Wylan to get you out. Kaz, Nina, and yourself go together. She’s easy to relax around but Kaz isn’t, he always seems off... Probably using her ability to calm you down. The thought seemed irrational for a moment, but it was a very good possibility.

Instead of being annoyed by it, you decided it was good that you could trust them. Even if it wasn’t genuine. You split up three ways to look for the scientist.

grishaverse moots

@maybanksslut​​

@flysafepapi​

@musicallisto​

@lxncelot​

@swanimagines​

@genyaakostyk​

@lotsoffandomimagines​​

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows #six of crows x reader #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader #six of crows imagine #kaz brekker imagine #grishaverse #grishaverse imagine #grishaverse x reader #nina zenik #inej ghafa #matthias helvar #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #murswrites

[britishassistant]

Crowley kid! Yuu gets kidnapped by one of the villain dorms and Crowley is touring the the lair and just come across his kid, just chilling their designated chair snacking and roasting the villains, maybe joking around with the minions a bit and then they see each other and it’s like that Spider-Man pointing meme

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

This kiiinda got away from me a bit, but I thought it would be good since this blog has now reached over 200 followers! Whoo! Thank you all for your support!!

Crowley was just popping by to see how Leviathan’s operation was running.

He liked to do this kind of thing, show up when the supervillains competing for his attention least expected (or appreciated) it and demand they show him how their operations were running. The reactions and sights he got to see where always so much more honest than what a prearranged visit could offer him.

Take Leviathan-kun, for instance.

The young man is uncommonly nervous in Crowley’s presence, not quite stuttering, but clearly not far off from it either. He keeps adjusting his glasses minutely, making the light flash off them even as he rattles out his salesman’s spiel of guarantees and flattery.

The thieving corvid inside Crowley preens. Today was an excellent day for a surprise inspection.

There’s clearly something going on right now that Leviathan was desperate to hide from him, which just makes Crowley want to dig deep and uncover whatever this dirty little secret is and drag that wriggling, struggling weakness into the light.

Great Seven, he loves his job.

It doesn’t take long for him to ferret it out—as desperate as Leviathan is to redirect his attention the loyal minions moving like schools of fish through the lower levels of the lair, he doesn’t have the authority to do anything but totter after Crowley as he strides towards the control room of this fine establishment, his cane clicking against the ground with every step.

Great Seven, he loves his job.

There’s the raised voices of Leviathan’s lieutenants emanating from within, along with...someone else?

Crowley pauses, taking in the scene inside.

There is a person is tied to a chair in the center of the room with one of the Leeches hanging sideways off of their lap, arms wrapped around their shoulders as he leans backwards and swings his legs back and forth. The chair is beginning to teeter dangerously.

“Floyd, if you make us fall again, I’m suing you for damages.” A familiar voice quips.

Crowley’s insides go cold.

“Aha! So mean~ I’d never let you get hurt, Shrimpy~” The reckless and violent twin coos, nuzzling close.

“You already did.” The most kidnapped reporter in this city deadpans. “Twice.”

“Bold of you to assume that you’d be able to press charges in the first place, Yuu-san.” The sadistic and coldblooded twin grins.

“Azul likes me better than you two, he’ll represent me if I sell him my kidneys.” Yuu says loftily. “Plus I have witnesses, like that guy...there...”

Well, that’s ruined his dramatic entrance, but Crowley slams open the doors anyway, making his cloak billow and letting those leeches see the angry flash of his eyes.

“A-hem!” He booms. “What exactly do you think you’re doing? Is this how you think professional villains behave?!”

The sadistic twin stands to attention, bowing shallowly to him, as though that will keep Crowley from noticing how he’s moved in front of the hostage and his violent brother, who’s curled over Yuu with his feet planted firmly on the ground and is cocky enough to think baring his teeth at Crowley is somehow a good idea.

“Floyd.” Leviathan’s voice is clipped, moving towards his henchman and the captive. “My deepest apologies on behalf of my staff, sir. I’ll instruct them to take the prisoner back down to the holding cells to continue the inter—”

“No, you will not.” Crowley commands, swirling towards the aquatic supervillain. “You will release them from your custody immediately, and as I am so gracious, I will be sure to educate all of you about how violating personal boundaries—”

“Oh, come off it, you old crow.” Yuu drawls, one eyebrow twitching. “Don’t start pretending like you care now.”

The sadistic brother makes a small, choked noise. Leviathan has gone so still it’s doubtful he’s even breathing. Even the violent twin is staring at the reporter like they’ve grown a second head.

He clears his throat to hide the small sting in his chest at the remark. “W-why I don’t know whatever you are talking about, stranger I have never met before. I will arrange for an escort to guide you home, as I am so gracious.”

The reporter scoffs. “Well, isn’t that just the story of my life. I told you last time, I don’t want any of your goons within ten blocks of my apartment, remember?”

“Yuu, while I always appreciate your sparkling wit, please stop talking.” Leviathan mutters, eyes focused on Crowley. “Are you aware of just who this person is?”

“Who he is? Of course I know who he is.” Yuu’s exasperation is evident in their voice. “He’s my bio dad.”

Crowley bristles, feeling his feathers puff up in alarm. “Hatchling!!”

Leviathan chokes, wheezing for air as he gasps out, “Bio—what—?”

The sadistic Leech brother is visibly startled, whipping his head back and forth between Crowley and Yuu, lips moving too fast to read though no sound comes out.

“Eeeh~? The big scary boss man is Shrimpy’s dad? No waay~” The violent Leech brother jabs a thumb in his direction. “Who would fuck him?”

“HOW DARE YOU—!”

“Nobody.” Yuu says. “I was born via in vitro fertilization.”

“Hatchling~!” Crowley whines, disliking how wrong-footed his child leaves him. “That is hardly kind!”

Yuu lets out an undignified snort. “Sure, because that compares to dumping me back on Uncle Divvy after a week out of the test tube with instructions to leave me under a bridge somewhere.”

Both Leech twins pin him with equally unnerving stares, and Crowley has to remind himself that he is three times the villain they’ll ever be, that they couldn’t actually hurt him even if they did both attack at once.

Leviathan is just leaning against his desk, mouthing “Uncle Divvy” to himself with the sort of frquency usually reserved for those afflicted by Divus’ hysteria gas.

“We talked about that!” Crowley pleads desperately. “It was to make sure that you could grow strong through adversity! I could hardly expect you to take up my position if you grew up soft and dependent, now could I?”

“Babies are soft and dependent, that’s the whole point. I’d have been dead within the week if Uncle Divvy hadn’t given me to Mom and Dad.” Yuu sighs, slumping back into the chair. “Whatever. I’m never taking over from you and I don’t want any of your money. Can I go home now?”

“I’ll arrange for a car as I am so gracious—” Crowley states firmly at the same time as Leviathan interjects with “Ah, let me take you—”

He shoots a poisonous glare at the young upstart, and then at the unprofessional lackey who’s still clinging to his child.

“No thanks, to both of you.” Yuu sighs. “I’ll just call Yuuken to pick me up—”

“Eeeh?! But Shrimpy, he’s so lame and boring!” The twin in Yuu’s lap whines. “I can’t even squeeze him properly!”

“Yeah, that’s not really a negative here.” The reporter quips, putting up with the way the merman whines and nuzzles into their shoulder, teeth dangerously close to their jugular.

“I don’t like him.” Crowley sniffs. “He’s too good an influence on you.”

“Well, guess whose business that is?!” His offspring asks cheerily, before dropping back into their irritated moue. “Not yours. I’ll spend time with whoever I please, you can go suck an e—”

“I’ve called you a cab, Yuu-san.” The sadistic Leech brother pipes up, pulling his phone away from his ear. “It’s already paid for, so please don’t worry about it.”

The reporter frowns again, before shaking their head with a tired sigh. “Thank you. I need to go sleep off a migraine, so untie me and I’ll see you three next week or something.”

Leviathan moves forward to tug swiftly at the ropes pinning their arms behind their back and pulling his henchmen off of them, finally. “Let me escort you out at least. It wouldn’t do to have any more unpleasant surprises before you got home.”

“Fine.” Yuu pins Crowley with that look that always makes him want to squirm. “Have a lovely day, Dire Crowley-san.”

“Likewise.” He watches his heir walk out as the violent Leech twin calls out “Bye bye, Shrimpy~!”

He turns to those two upstarts, drawing himself up to his full height. “I am certain I don’t need to impress upon you the fact that none of what went on in here leaves this room, yes?”

The sadistic one meets his eye for a moment, spreading his hands wide with an unpleasant smile. “I am unsure of what you mean, Crowley-sama.”

“Yeah, dunno~” The violent one chirps from where he’s now perched in the recently vacated chair.

“Well, suffice it to say that Divus came up with a very interesting potion to affect merfolk, some years ago.” Crowley allows himself a cruel smirk. “One that gives them legs permanently. Shame it doesn’t do the same for lungs. I will not tell him how...carelessly you boys have been treating one of his most prized experiments, as I am gracious, am I not?”

He watches the pair of them swallow reflexively with a thrill of dark satisfaction. “Yes, Crowley-sama.” They chorus.

“Wonderful!” Crowley chirps, clasping his hands together. “Now, I think it’s time for a special lesson on respecting the personal boundaries of one’s hostages, don’t you?”

#ask #twisted wonderland #twst #supervillain au #dire crowley #twst crowley #azul ashengrotto #twst azul #leviathan #jade leech #twst jade #floyd leech #twst floyd #twisted wonderland yuu #twst yuu #yuu takes none of crowley’s shit #azul x yuu #jade x yuu #floyd x yuu

[phoenixlionme]

MCU Criticisms

Look, I like the MCU but its’ flaws are apparent and I need to talk about them. You have the right to your opinion on the MCU but I am also allowed mine. Please be respectful and no rude trolls.

1. Peaked with Endgame - Honestly, it feels like the MCU should’ve ended with Endgame but Disney wants money. And maybe I’m wrong, but you NEED to know when to end a franchise.

2. Captain Marvel Switch - I enjoyed Captain Marvel even with the flaws but I REALLY think they should’ve went with the ORIGINAL Captain Marvel: Monica Rambeau. Carol was the second bearer. And I really think Kevin Feige didn’t make an error given he’s a HUGE Marvel fan but it once again showed how he or whoever made the decision has a lack of racial awareness (not sure if that’s the right word) - They gave the first bearer of the Captain Marvel logo not to the black woman (who was the first) but to a white woman; they then de-aged the former and (I’m guessing), Carol might bestow the Captain Marvel moniker to Monica in the MCU. I wouldn’t be surprised with the decision given Disney’s track record (shrinking Finn in Star Wars and the masking up Black Panther in Chinese posters)

3. Peter Parker Incarnation - Look, I LOVE Tom Holland and his performance as Spider-Man but I DO takes issues with how he’s written. First, no matter how much of a Marvel/MCU fan is, they can’t deny that MCU Peter borrows HEAVILY from the mythos of Miles Morales: Going to an academic school, trained by Avengers, having an Asian plus-sized best friend who is his main ally, etc. I mean, did no one think of the racist implications (?) - Taking the mythos of a (then) underrated POC superhero and giving it to the more well-known white hero who already had an established mythos. And I admit to being 50/50 over liking if someone does a new take on the character, but I didn’t really like how they made Peter an Avengers fanboy given his attitude in the comics. They have made all of HIS villains somehow connected to Tony Stark, which is just annoying: A hero’s rogues gallery should be their own. Now, from the trailer (and again I could be wrong), it feels like they’re trying to copy from the ITSV by introducing parallel worlds. Tom Holland nails Peter’s awkwardness, friendliness, vulnerability, heroism, and humor but the writing fails Peter in these ways.

4. The Loss of a Black Widow Trilogy - I’ll be honest: I didn’t go to see the Black Widow movie. Not because of Scarlet Johnassen. Because I didn’t think there was any point. The character was dead, so the weight of impactful and emotional moments was limited. I know the racist and sexist Ike Perlman was in charge, so that might explain why they couldn’t do it (and I hope he heard about the successes of Black Panther, Captain Marvel, Wonder Woman, and Black Widow and is eating crow for his dumbass remarks). However, they gave Peter Parker (who didn’t appear until later in Phase 2or 3) a trilogy but didn’t do the same for Black Widow, who has been there way longer? Honestly, it was too late and they should’ve done better

5. Lack of Female, LGBT, and POC Heroes - Just what it said. And if you’re one of those people who say “diversity and representation makes things worse”, you gan just get the fuck out. Diversity is NEVER the issue, you’re just a bigot. If you don’t like the movie/series because of the writing, pace, characters, those are valid reasons. But if you ONLY hate a movie/series simply because it has a majority of female, POC, and LGBT heroes who may talk about the issues their groups face, then you’re noting more than a bigoted asshole. Anyway, the MCU could’ve done better in a lot of ways: Black Widow trilogy, Monica Rambeau’s Captain Marvel, The Wasp solo/origin movie, introducing Shang Chi earlier, making Jimmy Woo more prominent, etc.

#marvel #mcu #mcu critical #representation matters #my posts #rewrite

[thebonerpit]

cheerleader [FIC]

cheerleader

Rom Howney, 3896 words, [E], read on Ao3 here

A very seasonally appropriate fic in which Robert throws a Halloween party. Tom hates Halloween but decides to wear a costume he's wanted to try for years.

“I just don’t understand it.”

Tom frowns as he stares at the racks upon racks of zombies, clowns, vampires, and sexy nurses in front of him.

“I mean, to be fair, you don’t understand much of anything, do you mate?”

“Fuck off,” Tom says, whacking Harrison on the arm. “But seriously! Why do Americans go so absolutely mental for this stupid holiday?”

“Again, having trouble with the fact that you, an actor, who plays dress-up FOR A LIVING, doesn’t understand this. It’s not like this is any weirder than a fancy dress party. Plus, you get candy!”

Ok, he does have a point there.

Tom lets out a deep sigh. He wouldn’t even be bothering with all this if it weren’t for Robert. An invitation appeared in his inbox last week for a Halloween party, and when you’re invited to a Halloween party at Robert Downey Jr.’s house, you don’t turn it down. Even if Halloween is incredibly stupid. He shuffles along through the rows of costumes, rolling his eyes at werewolf masks and inflatable dinosaurs.

“This is ridiculous,” he mutters. Harrison groans, his hands already full of the various parts of a Mad Hatter costume.

“Just pick something, who cares?!”

“There’s too many options!”

“Ok, look. Halloween is the chance to dress any way you want to and have no one judge you for it. Just think about that. What have you always wanted to be?”

Tom immediately knows what the answer is, but instead of replying he just huffs and turns down another aisle that’s covered in fairy wings and glitter. He can’t possibly do it. Especially not for this party. For Robert’s party. It would be… inappropriate. He rounds the corner again and is faced with a shockingly huge assortment of superhero costumes. A foam version of Thor’s hammer sits on the shelf to his right, and he smirks as he picks it up and gives it a good twirl.

“In your face, Hemsworth,” he mutters quietly.

There’s a whole row of different Spider-Man costumes which makes him smile, especially when he sees a flimsy synthetic fabric version of the Iron Spider suit. And right next to that – a placement that thrills him even more than the suit alone - are the Iron Man costumes. Plastic faceplates, arc reactor gloves with LED lights, fabric onesies with fake, puffy muscles sewn in… it’s all there. Tom runs a finger along the edge of the faceplate before snatching his hand away like he’s been burned.

It’s all he can think about, even as they leave the store after Harrison buys his costume and Tom walks out empty-handed. He thinks about it on the ride home and through dinner until he finally makes excuses and runs off to hide in his room, laptop in hand, and puts on Iron Man 2. It doesn’t take long to get to the scene he wants. Tony Stark, diving through fireworks, landing on a flashy stage, surrounded by his Ironettes. Tom bites his lip as he stares intently at the bright red booty shorts, the long gloves, the crop tops… maybe, if he altered it just a bit, if he wore the mask… He can already feel his face heating up at the prospect of walking into Robert’s house dressed like that. Would he laugh? Would he be weirded out? Or… would he like it? Tom pushes the laptop off to the side and lets the movie play as he touches himself, coming to the sound of Robert’s voice in his headphones.

* * * * *

Tom is going to throw up. It’s inevitable, at this point. He’s in the back of a car squished between Harry and Harrison and he’s going to throw up. His stomach is in knots and he can’t remember ever being this nervous in his life. He’s used to the fluttering before a big stage performance or audition, but those nerves are more like excitement. This is sheer terror and he is going to THROW UP.

“Can you calm down? Jesus, you’re going to ruin my costume if you don’t stop squirming!” Harrison jabs a sharp elbow into his side and Tom jerks away into Harry who pushes him back.

“I just… I need some air.”

“The windows are all open! Take the mask off!”

That is the absolute last thing he wants to do. He was only able to leave the house in this costume with the mask securely over his face and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to take it off. He must be red as a tomato.

“Look, we’re here!” Harry crows. The car finally comes to a stop and they all pile out. Tom wants to collapse on the soft grass but he’s pulled along by four strong hands.

“Maybe I should… Look, I’ll just wait out here for a bit, ok? I just need—”

“Nope, absolutely not. Look mate, we already told you, he’s going to love it. Maybe not in the way you want him to-“ Tom punches Harry in the arm for that “-BUT, regardless, he’ll love it. You look great. And this is coming from someone who never turns down an opportunity to tell you you’re an ugly twat.”

“That was… almost sweet,” Tom says, and then yelps as they both drag him inside.

The party is in full swing and is absolutely packed with people. Small groups are standing around chatting, all in costume, and a live band is playing in the huge backyard to a crowded dancefloor. Tom recognizes only a few people – it’s hard to miss Scarlett even when she’s dressed like Morticia Addams – but that doesn’t bother him. Normally he loves mingling and meeting new people, and even dressed as he is it’s still exciting. It’s even easier after he quickly downs a few strong drinks, careful to only pull up the mask as far as it needs to go. The urge to vomit has pretty much dissipated and he’s actually beginning to enjoy himself, twirling around the dancefloor like a maniac until he’s slightly sweaty and out of breath.

“Water break!” he yells to Harry and squeezes through the crowd of people to get some air and hydrate. He finds a relatively quiet corner where he can chug half a water bottle in peace and is enjoying the cool air on his skin when someone taps him on the shoulder. He startles and nearly drops the bottle but manages to save it before turning around.

“Nice catch.”

Oh fuck. It’s him. It’s Robert. He hasn’t seen him the whole evening and assumed he was off being a good host so the whole thing almost slipped his mind, but now it’s all rushing back and he has to grip on to the fence post beside him to steady himself.

“Love the costume. Not exactly how I remember the Ironettes looking but I gotta say, this might be an improvement.”

Tom nearly chokes. He decided he couldn’t pull off the real Ironette costume as the distinct lack of breasts made it look a little awkward. So, he improvised. The shiny red and gold booty shorts stayed, of course. They made his ass look incredible. He bought the long red and gold arc reactor gloves and the plastic faceplate from the Halloween store, and instead of heeled boots he found a pair of gold high-tops and knee-high red socks. The shirt was the most difficult part, though. He went through a few variations before settling on something cute and comfortable: a red, cropped tank top. It was a bit loose and thin, so it flowed around his chest nicely and was short enough to show off his abs and his tiny waist. He also managed to find an LED necklace to serve as his arc reactor. It glowed a soft blue through the thin fabric of the shirt. Overall, he’s incredibly proud of what he came up with. Especially for someone who hates Halloween.

And now, with the way Robert is staring at him, he’s VERY happy he was brave enough to wear it.

“Is there someone under that gorgeous mask? Or are you too shy to say hello?”

Tom steels himself, takes a deep breath, and pulls the mask off.

Robert’s face goes through a myriad of emotions almost all at once. Shock, delight, amusement, and what is unmistakably arousal.

“Well. Tom Holland. As I live and breathe.” His voice is lower than before, more intimate, and when he takes a step forward Tom swears he feels the temperature go up by at least two degrees. He also notices that Robert is wearing eyeliner. The black kohl makes his eyes look even more gorgeous, and then there’s the red glitter dusted across his cheeks and around his hairline that is giving him an almost eerie glow.

“What are you supposed to be, then?” Tom asks. Robert smirks and points to the two small horns sticking out from his hair.

“The Devil, of course.”

“Of course,” Tom repeats weakly. It was barely a costume, the deep maroon suit looking more like red carpet attire than anything else, but fuck it looked incredible on him.

“I am the purveyor of sin on this fine evening,” he says, gesturing to the party, “so I thought I’d play the part. But you… you look far more sinful than me.”

Tom squeaks as Robert steps even closer and taps at the arc reactor on his chest.

“Cute,” he murmurs.

“Just… just wanted to show you how much of a fan I am… Mr. Stark.”

Robert’s eyes snap up to Tom’s and he doesn’t think he’s ever been looked at so intensely in his entire life.

“Is that so… Mr. Parker?”

Tom whines, loud enough for Robert to hear it. His hand travels down Tom’s body to squeeze at the bare skin of his waist.

“I think—”

“Robert!!”

They both jerk back as if they’re waking up from a trance. Someone is yelling for Robert and waving him inside, and he acknowledges them with a quick gesture. Turning back to Tom, he licks his lips and leans in to whisper in his ear.

“I think we’ll have to continue this later. Don’t leave without saying goodnight. Alright?”

“Yeah. Yes. O-ok. See you later,” Tom stutters, and when Robert disappears inside he chugs the rest of the water bottle and collapses back against the fence to catch his breath.

* * * * *

All the telltale signs of a party winding down are there. Most people have left, the band has stopped playing leaving only some low background music emanating from the speakers around the house, and the guests that remain are splayed out on various couches and chairs, half their costumes missing and happily drunk. The kitchen is a disaster and Tom feels bad adding more bottles to the mess, but he’s on a mission and can’t stop to tidy. After his run-in with Robert he only saw him briefly a few more times, mostly through a massive crowd, but he didn’t forget his words from earlier.

Don’t leave without saying goodnight.

Harrison and Harry have already gone home. They tried to get him to come with but Tom pretended to be enthralled in a conversation and told them he’d catch up in a bit. Now he’s wandering the massive house, peeking into various rooms as he looks for Robert. He gave up on wearing the mask after they met in the yard so it’s pushed up on his head like some sort of strange visor, his curls a sweaty mess beneath it. The second floor is quiet and empty; no one really came up here during the party anyway so it’s also much cleaner. A set of closed double doors is in front of him, and it’s the only place he hasn’t looked, so…

Tom slowly opens one door and pokes his head inside. Robert is lounging on a massive bed, scrolling on an iPad, glasses perched on his nose. He’s still got the horns on his head, and when he glances up over the rim of his glasses to smirk at Tom, he really does look positively devilish.

“Found you,” Tom says, trying to appear completely casual when his heart feels like it’s about to explode from under his ribcage.

“So you did. Come in. Close the door.”

Robert makes no effort to move so Tom slowly walks over to the bed, suddenly very conscious of how tight his shorts are as Robert unabashedly roams over his body with hungry eyes. He stops at the edge and toes at the plush carpet with one foot.

“Have you been drinking?”

Tom nods.

“How much?”

“Not that much,” Tom replies, understanding what Robert is trying to ask. “But maybe just enough to give me some liquid courage.”

Robert raises an eyebrow but waits patiently for Tom to make the first move, only shifting slightly to drop the iPad and his glasses on the nightstand. Guess it’s now or never.

He kneels on the edge of the bed with one leg first, testing the waters. Robert stays perfectly still. A deep inhale to steady himself and then Tom goes for it, pushing up on the bed and straddling Robert’s lap. He hesitates for only a moment before settling right on the seam of those expensive maroon trousers.

A pleased hum rumbles out of Robert’s chest as he runs two smooth, warm hands up Tom’s spread thighs to his waist.

“My own personal cheerleader, hm? I always knew you looked up to me but I never expected this… Pete.”

He catches Tom’s eye and gives him a brief wink. Tom’s heart speeds up even more as excitement bubbles in his stomach. Playing. Robert is playing with him. He was desperately hoping he wouldn’t drop this, leave it as the brief tease it was back in the yard. Acting with Robert is one of his favourite things in the entire world, and being able to do it like this? God, for the first time he’s actually happy that Tony Stark is dead because he’s never going to be able to act across from him again without thinking of this moment.

Robert nuzzles into his neck and starts leaving wet, sucking kisses all along the line of his throat. Tom shivers at the sensation and then starts to giggle when the tickle of Robert’s beard is too much against his sensitive skin. Robert laughs into his neck and nips playfully.

“You’re so darn cute,” he whispers. Robert has always been free with his compliments, telling Tom he’s handsome or pretty or talented, but somehow it just hits different when his hands are also squeezing Tom’s ass.

“Want to touch you, Mr. Stark,” Tom murmurs into his ear, easily switching his accent to sound even more like Peter. He feels Robert shudder underneath him and can’t help the pleased smirk that crosses his face.

“Yeah?” Robert says, grasping his chin gently so he can look into his eyes. “Do you even know what you’re doing, sweetheart?”

Tom absolutely knows what he’s doing, but Peter…

“I… uh… I was hoping you could teach me. I’m a really quick learner, sir,” he says softly.

“Jesus fucking christ,” Robert mutters, breaking character for a moment. He collects himself quickly though, shifting Tom in his lap just enough so he can undo his trousers and pull himself out. Tom’s mouth literally waters at the sight of Robert’s dick and he uses every ounce of willpower not to just pounce on him immediately.

“Want to feel your mouth, Pete,” Robert says, rubbing a thumb along Tom’s lower lip. “You can go slow. Use your tongue.”

“Yes, Mr. Stark,” Tom replies, trying not to sound too eager. He shuffles down a little and purposely sticks his ass up in the air. The red and gold shimmer on the shorts catches the dim light and he gives his hips a quick wiggle when he sees Robert staring.

“Maybe I should’ve reworked the design on your suit, hm? You like wearing little shorts like this?”

Tom nods and presses his face into the curls at the base of Robert’s dick, inhaling the scent of him. He feels the thick cock jerk against his cheek and angles his head to lick up the whole length of it, swirling his tongue at the tip. The bitter taste of precome blooms in his mouth and he moans, forgetting himself for a moment as he starts to give a much more experienced blowjob than what Peter would be capable of. Robert knocks the mask off Tom’s head so he can tighten his hand in his messy curls.

“Jesus,” Robert groans, “you’re good at this, kid.”

“Mmm, just want to make you feel good, sir,” Tom hums. He manages to remove one of the arc reactor gloves so he can grip Robert’s cock while he uses his mouth everywhere he can reach.

“Well, you’re doing a—fuck, god—a damn fine job.”

Tom thinks he could stay here forever, on his knees, mouth stretched almost painfully around Robert’s cock. He explores up his chest with his other hand, rubbing at one nipple with his thumb which makes Robert jerk underneath him.

“Keep doing that,” Robert spits out as he pushes Tom’s head down even further. He gags a bit but the incredible sensation of being stuffed and used overrides everything else and he takes every inch Robert gives him while tugging and pinching at his apparently very sensitive nipples. He drifts for a bit, so content and fuzzy, and only comes back when Robert pulls him off and throws him down on the bed.

“Pull up that shirt for me, sweetheart. Gonna paint your pretty chest with my come.”

“Oh my god, fuck, yes, please, please, want it,” Tom moans, shoving the fabric out of the way as Robert jerks himself off quickly above him. He can’t decide whether to watch his dick or his face when he finally comes, thick and white all over his chest and the arc reactor necklace. Robert’s slightly red in the face and gasping for breath as he steadies himself with a hand beside Tom’s head. Tom leans to the side to kiss at his knuckles and then dares to run his fingers through the come on the necklace and bring it to his mouth to taste.

“You’re going to give an old man a heart attack,” Robert says. His pupils are all blown out as he watches Tom hollow his cheeks as he sucks. Tom understands the feeling. He’s so hard in his shorts that it’s painful.

“Please,” he whispers, biting his lip, “will you touch me, Mr. Stark?��

“It would be a pleasure, Mr. Parker,” he replies. He palms him over the shorts which makes Tom buck into his hand. “As much as I love these… they have to go.”

The shorts are so tight that they both struggle to pull them down but finally they’re tossed off to a distant corner of the bedroom and Tom hisses as Robert immediately get his mouth on his cock. It feels absolutely heavenly, especially after being trapped in the confines of that uncomfortable fabric for so long. Robert takes his time, licks and sucks everywhere he can, all the way down to that sensitive spot right behind his balls. Tom whimpers as his tongue gets so fucking close to his hole but then pulls away.

“Want to use my fingers… s’that ok?”

“Y-yeah, please, yes!”

Robert grabs some lube from the nightstand and even warms it first before sliding one thick finger over Tom’s hole, pressing just the tip inside. Aside from the thrill of having Robert’s finger inside of him, the most incredible part is that he doesn’t stop sucking him off. The level of coordination is astounding and Tom would have complimented him on it if he was able to speak beyond moans and pleas for more. A second finger quickly joins the first and Tom’s body accepts it without hesitation.

“Good boy,” Robert murmurs in between gentle licks, “look at you, hm? So pretty and pink.”

Robert shifts him down a bit more which makes his legs fall open even wider. He feels so exposed and whines a little, trying to draw his knees close without squeezing Robert too much.

“Aw, don’t be shy sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” Robert says. “You can put your legs up on me if that helps, ok?”

He hears the rubber of his high-tops squeak against Robert’s skin and somehow the sound is more obscene than anything else. He tries not to thump his heels too hard but fuck, Robert is doing something with his tongue that should be illegal and Tom can’t stop squirming. A low chuckle reverberates against his stomach as Robert pulls off briefly, his fingers still working in slow, gentle pushes.

“Aren’t you sensitive, hm?”

“P-please, Ro—Mr. Stark, please, need to come,” Tom begs, accent slipping slightly as he tries to shove himself down even deeper on Robert’s thick fingers. He’s held in place by the firm grip of Robert’s other hand on his waist and he whines petulantly.

“Anything for my favourite little spider,” Robert coos. He crooks his fingers and Tom arches up off the bed like he’s been shocked. He feels like he’s been on the edge since they first met in the yard and now Robert’s fingers are pressing right on his prostate and his hot mouth is back on his dick and he doesn’t think he could possibly hold off any longer if he tried.

“Gonna… gonna…” Tom’s whole body is taut, like a wire ready to snap, and when Robert takes him all the way down his throat he comes with a ragged gasp. Distantly he thinks he should be considerate and pull out but it’s like his body isn’t under his control anymore, and even though he hears wet choking noises it seems like Robert is just fine with him coming in his mouth. His fingers have stopped moving and he lets Tom clench around them for a few moments before gently sliding them out. Tom whines at the loss even though he’s so oversensitive right now he couldn’t possibly take anymore.

After taking a minute to catch his breath and regain any semblance of normal brain function, he finally looks down. Robert’s eyeliner is smudged and Tom feels a bizarre sense of pride about it. He can’t stop running his fingers through his salt and pepper hair which is also a complete mess.

“Just FYI,” Robert finally says, his voice a little raspy, “you’re going to be finding red glitter in every nook and cranny for about three years after this.” He punctuates that sentence by rubbing his cheek against Tom’s thigh, grinning as he does it.

“You’re a dick,” Tom says fondly, giggling even more as Robert continues to just rub his face all over his body. “But can’t say I’m gonna care that much if I’m being reminded about this.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” Robert says, that absolutely devilish grin returning, “I can give you more than just glitter for that.” Tom squeals as he starts sucking a deep bruise into the inside of one thigh, teeth marks and all, that Tom presses on every time he sees it for the next week.

#tbpwrites #rom howney #marvel rpf #nff #please do not expect this kind of consistency from me normally lol #usually it takes months in between fics! #but the fandom has been so lovely and active lately that it's inspired me #maybe i'll write some actual starker at some point and not just rpf

[ximstillbreathingx]

So I’m really enjoying all the “songs that scream Kanej” posts, but it’s always just English songs. And since this is an international and multilingual fandom, I decided to post a German song that reminded me of Kanej! But, you know, because everybody here speaks English, I tried to translate the lyrics, so sit back, listen to “500 PS” by Cro and enjoy my interpretation!

You are different, you are free Always forgetting the time When you dance in your dress All alone When Inej is on the tightrope or climbing she's always alone and all

I look at you and I get hot Maybe a maybe is enough for others But I want you all for myself

Oh, you don't know what you're doing, You're fooling yourself And dream your way through the world, Causing chaos in the city, yeah In a world that's pretending You're the only one who's yourself, yeah Inej is still religious and "dreams herself through the world", but she stays true to herself. And I mean, who causes more trouble in Ketterdam than the Crows and the Wraith?

You're the last of your kind The whole world is out to get you I'll fend off the bullets And die for you tonight She's the best spider of the whole world, the Wraith, etc. The whole world is chasing her / would like to see her dead And I'm sure Kaz would die for Inej or take a bullet for her

And I'll try without you But I'll curse it without you, all alone And that's why I'm looking for your face Maybe it's good the way it is THAT'S JUST POST-CROOKED-KINGDOM Kaz is letting her go, tries being alone in Ketterdam again and tells himself it's better like that

Ask me what you want, I won't say no Let's fuck up, babe, I'm in, yeah We steal horses, yours is black and mine is white, yeah Five hundred horsepower, I like your drive, yeah Through the night Kaz and Inej are always kinda fucking things up, (I'm pretty sure there's no such saying as the horse-thing in English, so I translated it word-for-word, it basically means you can do anything together, because you can completely rely on them) they STEAL horses (or DeKappels)

I don't know much about love I don't know what it means All I know is when I'm lying with her I don't fall asleep for years, no, no It feels like I'm flying No one's ever been so high, high, high But she's on cloud nine Just passing me by, by, by, by They both don't really have experience with love (trauma is kicking in) Ans they are both sure that the other doesn't feel the same way

#Six of Crows #Shadow and Bone #Leigh Bardugo #Kaz Brekker #Inej Ghafa #Nina Zenik #Matthias Helvar #Jesper Fahey #Wylan Van Eck #Kanej #Helnik #Wesper #Crooked Kingdom #Kanej Songs

[yellowocaballero]

The Crow’s Funeral Snippet: Jon Gets Involved In Local Politics, Regrets It

Annabelle, of course, was standing on the other side of the door. 

Slightly less obviously, she was dressed in a finely tailored suit, complete with high heels and a gorgeous dripping silver chain-link necklace. Her hair was tied up in an up-do of braids piled neatly on top of her head, and there was even a briefcase. 

She looked Jon up and down critically. He was wearing sweatpants and a holey shirt. 

“You forgot,” she condemned, “didn’t you?”

“No I didn’t,” Jon said reflexively. He paused. “Forgot what?”

Annabelle pinched the bridge of her nose. Jon noticed that she was even wearing her usual all-black lipstick and winged eyeliner. “The council committee for London I planned for today. Remember? The one with a representative for each Entity?” Jon stared blankly at her. “There was an invite?”

“Oh, that. I don’t check my mail.” Jon looked at Daisy, who was now pressing aggressively against Jon. “Did you open up any mail recently?” Daisy barked. Jon looked back at Annabelle. “She ate it.”

“...of course she did.”  Written for no real reason besides for the fact that I know too much about my own AU and I care about Annabelle. This story takes place both pre- and post- story: six months after Jon enters London, and six months after the events of the story. We talk about childhood/adulthood, stagnancy/growth, good/evil, and the inherent metaphor of a Nintendo DS. Sometimes...found family...is bad. Rest under the cut. 

In the third month, boiling and bubbling over, someone knocked at Jon’s door. 

Not the door to his office. The door to his flat, which had a very large ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’ sign on it, and was always locked. The employees were, granted, Jon and Daisy, but the message was conveyed. Jon saw the sign in stores and copied it, as he copied many aspects of business models. Jon didn’t quite understand how to run a business, but he had read both ‘What they teach you in Harvard Business School’ - whatever a Harvard was - and ‘What they don’t teach you in Harvard Business School’, so he figured he was set. Daisy had also grabbed him a Girl Scout book on starting your own lemonade stand, which helped more than the other two books combined. Harvard Business School could take notes. 

Jon rolled off the bed, where he had been downloading knowledge of string games and trying to figure out how to do them. Omniscence was closer to reading an instruction manual than actually knowing how to do something, but at least that left Jon with plenty of time to learn skills. Even if it wasn’t necessarily his favorite activity - he was bad at a lot of them, which would frustrate him and make him wreck the craft. Daisy kept on saying he needed a hobby other than reading but what did she know, anyway -

Daisy, from where she had been sleeping at the foot of the bed, lifted her head and barked sleepily. 

“I’ll get them to go away,” Jon promised. Or eat them. Maybe just eat them. 

But when Daisy bristled and jumped off the bed, barking heavily, he knew who it was. Jon sighed, hastily shoving a shirt over his head, and undid the three deadbolts before unlocking the door. 

Annabelle, of course, was standing on the other side. Slightly less obviously, she was dressed in a finely tailored suit, complete with high heels and a gorgeous dripping silver chain-link necklace. Her hair was tied up in an up-do of braids piled neatly on top of her head, and there was even a briefcase. 

She looked Jon up and down critically. He was wearing sweatpants and a holey shirt. 

“You forgot,” she condemned, “didn’t you?”

“No I didn’t,” Jon said reflexively. He paused. “Forgot what?”

Annabelle pinched the bridge of her nose. Jon noticed that she was even wearing her usual all-black lipstick and winged eyeliner. “The council committee for London I planned for today. Remember? The one with a representative for each Entity?”

Jon stared blankly at her. 

“There was an invite?”

“Oh, that. I don’t check my mail.” Jon looked at Daisy, who was now pressing aggressively against Jon. “Did you open up any mail recently?” Daisy barked. Jon looked back at Annabelle. “She ate it.”

“...of course she did.” Annabelle glanced down at Daisy, whose fur was standing on end as she growled lowly. “Have you had any success?”

“You would have noticed if I did,” Jon said shortly. 

“Have you tried talking to -”

“Yes,” Jon snapped, “but apparently some of us have better things to do than attend meetings and cure dogs.”

Annabelle intelligently dropped the matter, instead frowning at Jon. He crossed his arms, fighting the urge to hunch over away from her dark and perceptive stare. But instead of pushing him, she said, “Go get dressed in something a little appropriate, please. You look like you crawled out of the Buried.” Daisy barked, which Annabelle ignored. “What are you doing to your hair?”

Jon hunched defensively. It was a little matted and frizzy, but who was counting? “Daisy can’t exactly shave it anymore, and I don’t really...know what to do with it...am I doing something wrong? I bathe.”

It was very important to Daisy that he bathe and brush his teeth. Jon didn’t know what the big deal was, but if it was important to her then he did it.

Annabelle just pinched the bridge of her nose again, checking her wrist-watch. “Buzzing your hair is a crime against God, and letting your hair look like that is a crime against me. I’ll take care of this later. Just get ready in the next five minutes, or I’m filling your fridge with spiders again.”

Jon got ready in four. Annabelle didn’t joke around with that stuff. 

He didn’t really know what a council committee was. He didn’t know why he had to go to one either, seeing as Jon only tended to concern himself with Daisy. Daisy had been taking up a lot of his concern lately. Then his mood had plummeted again, and in the last month they’ve both been recalcitrant to leave the flat for anything but eating, and he was capable of noticing when he was hunting a little vindictively, and - anyway. 

He downloaded the knowledge, and then made a face when it didn’t really help. One of those nasty little political things. What was with his fellow Avatars and politics? Just torture anyone who bothers you. If they were one of those freaks who liked being tortured, then just smite them. Life was easy and very simple once you remembered that basic rule. 

But Annabelle was really into it - she kept on saying something about ‘order’ and ‘regulation’ and ‘first dibs’ - and she tended to drag him along into these things. She thought it was ‘important’ that Jon ‘know what was going on’ or something. Jon liked Knowing things, but once you know everything you realize that some things aren’t really interesting enough to know. 

When he asked Daisy if she wanted to go with, she feigned sleep. She had been hyperactive lately, compensating for her months of starvation with unbridled and frantic Hunting. Jon had taken her to one of those little pockets where people were running around and screaming all the time, and let her run wild in the rainforest for a while. It was the kind of fun bonding experience they hadn’t had in ages, and Jon had the opportunity to pluck his own grapes from the vine too. 

There had been an old man who really hadn’t been happy to see Jon, which had freaked him out a bit. He had started going on a little bit about how Jon had ruined his life, but he only got a few sentences in before a giant, carnivorous plant had eaten him. That was lucky. 

Jon had ripped the dimension apart as he left. Nasty little place. Nothing good there. 

So Jon left the house without Daisy for the first time since she had been well enough to move around, and with Annabelle. Daisy had been waiting at the door with a rucksack packed with his favorite book and his Nintendo DS, which made Annabelle ask her where the juicebox was. Daisy tried to bite her again. Jon didn’t know why everybody couldn’t just get along. 

There was a cab waiting outside, driven by another skeleton, and Annabelle quickly bundled him into it. Jon slouched in the corner and started playing WarioWare as Annabelle leafed through typewritten documents, lips pursing and making notes on the margins of each one with a red pen. She was muttering to herself, somewhat entertainingly. 

“My fourth arm for a computer, I swear to Jesus. My fourth and fifth arms. My sixth arm for a computer…”

“Are those the internet machines you told me about?” Jon asked, scribbling his stylus on the screen. Ashley cheered him on. He loved Ashley. “Do council committees need the internet?”

“The internet’s for a lot more than council committees Jon,” Annabelle said tightly. “They’re for video games. Ememoharepeegees -”

“Gesundheit.”

“ - bitcoin mining, instant messaging, online dating, freaking Google Docs -”

“Do you want it back?” Jon asked, bored. “I can make you the internet.”

Annabelle’s pen froze on the paper, hovering over a bullet-point list. “The entire internet? You can just do that?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Jon poked his tongue out his mouth in concentration as he pressed the monkeys in a rhythmic order. Rhythm games were his jam. “That’s, like, the pocket nightmare dimension from Tron, right? I can do that. Addictions are easy. Put people inside, trap them inside a video or something. It’d be mostly for torture but you could probably use it normally.”

Annabelle stared at him, expression blank, for so long it made Jon a little uncomfortable and defensive. What had he said wrong? Daisy was usually good at interpreting these things for him, although sometimes when people went on about ‘violence’ she was just as confused as him. Finally, she said, “No, that’s alright. I always hated Black Mirror anyway.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a telly - never mind. I don’t want you getting any more ideas.”

***

The council committee was held in the stupidest building Jon had ever seen in his entire life. And he had been in London for six months. He knew stupid buildings.

‘London City Hall’ or whatever was this awful giant, lopsided, obloid monstrosity. All glass and windows, with nary a brick in sight, Jon hated it instantly and severely. He was immediately filled with the urge to turn to somebody and commiserate with them about shitty architecture, but there was nobody else in the cab but Annabelle - and, well, she seemed to have other things on her mind. 

The neighborhood around it was filled with a mix of equally stupid buildings and perfectly respectable buildings that looked as if they had been made a long time ago. The sidewalks were relatively abandoned, and the streets were empty of everything but the endless rotation of tourist double-decker busses. Jon knew that this wasn’t one of those districts where people actually lived and roamed - instead, it was one of those business districts that people only stepped inside for work or city business. Like that silly little Palace of Westminster building that Annabelle had taken him to months ago when she was showing him the city. 

That building Annabelle had especially loved. It was filled with old white men with sagging jowls and liver spots, looping in endless routines and miniature atrocities. Annabelle had asked him to take as many Statements as possible, and Jon had needed no encouraging. 

That had been a strange trip. Normally people found his little monologues boring, because they were idiots with no taste, but Annabelle had listened to every single one. She had been enraptured, excited and triumphant. She had dragged him into some “Lord’s Chamber” or something and posed on the throne as Jon obediently took polaroids. Well, so long as she was happy. 

Jon was already seeing that London City Hall was no better. Annabelle dragged him through it, anxiously checking and re-checking her files, as they effortlessly weaved between shambling zombies of old white men in suits. Jon tasted the ripe air of trauma from them - a similar taste to that spiralling academic building, but rather a little more tart - but Annabelle dragged him away before he could stop and eat them.

There were parts of London that were safe. Maybe even most of London - although nowhere was truly safe, not really, not every location was absolutely haunted. The grocer’s was the grocer’s; the chemist still sold your medication. Not that you really needed it anymore, but habit was habit. 

But some buildings, which were entrenched so firmly in hundreds of years of evil, could not be dissuaded from their nightmares. In that respect, the safest city in the United Kingdom became the most dangerous. Some buildings had been nightmares even before the end of the world. 

Jon, of course, gave very little shits about this beyond in the academic sense. Annabelle refused to let him duck out of her meeting to go snack, and she ended up dragging him in front of what looked like a smallish conference room. 

Annabelle stopped in front of it, taking a second to breathe in and out and check her makeup. She seemed to be hyping herself up for it, shaking out her arms loosely. Jon slouched behind her, hands jammed in his trenchcoat pockets. Annabelle had asked him to put on a less raggedy suit, but - well, he sometimes had nicer suits, but they got raggedy very quickly. She had also asked him to leave the trenchcoat at home, but no way. It was part of his Look. 

“You’re frightened,” Jon noted with interest. Annabelle was scared of less than he was, and she had much less of a reason. “What about this room scares you?”

“It’s not the people in the room,” Annabelle snapped, flashing her compact shut. “It’s what I’m trying to do. If this world’s going to last more than a few years before it devolves into fuckin’ Mad Max we need leadership. I didn’t put all of this work in just to -” At Jon’s blank look, she sighed. “Never mind. You don’t care. Just - try to trust me, Jon.”

“Of course I trust you,” Jon said, baffled. “Why wouldn’t I?”

She stared at him, expression inscrutable, for a long moment, before opening the door and pulling him in. 

It was a nice conference room, all wood panelling and that specific green shade you only saw in lawyer’s offices. There was a large rectangular table in the center, and more than a dozen luxurious chairs arranged around it. There was a big pull-down screen on the far wall. Jon didn’t know what it was for, but he knew that if he downloaded the information it wouldn’t help. Omniscence was so useless. 

In a move that horrified Annabelle, most of the attendees seemed to be there. They had been chatting - talking, actually, quite loudly - before Annabelle strode in and Jon slumped in after her. But in the second that they both stepped in, an abrupt hush swept the room, and every eye swiveled to them.

If Jon was honest with himself, he’d say that they didn’t quiet when Annabelle stepped in. He’d say that they quieted when Jon stepped in. That it was Jon who they were looking at. 

But Jon didn’t particularly feel like engaging with that. He didn’t like being stared at by people he didn’t know, and he didn’t like being out in public with people he didn’t know. He didn’t enjoy being in buildings or meeting new people, much less going to boring meetings. Jon decided all of this instantaneously, as every eye swiveled to him.

Rooms full of humans were fine. It was just humans. Nothing even vaguely intimidating about that, unless the humans were teenage girls. But these were Avatars - Jon could taste their nature in the air, a sharp and electric tingle - and when they stared at Jon he felt something heavier in their gaze. Oh, lord. There was a teenage girl here. 

Jon tried slumping to the back chair, but Annabelle grabbed his collar and dumped him in a comfortable chair to her right. Jon saw a little placard in front of it that read ‘THE BEHOLDING’. Great. 

“Thank you all for coming today,” Annabelle said crisply, and suddenly every worry was gone. She was calm, poised, confident, and professional. A perfect imitation of the officials and politicians who once really walked these halls, who passed laws and rubber-stamped policies. She could have passed for an assistant or junior staff member, bright and intrepid and ready to climb her way up the ladder. “Are we all accounted for?”

It seemed so. Every chair but one was filled. When Jon peered around at the placards, he saw that each one had a different Entity on it. One of the seats had no placard, and was occupied by said teenage girl. Four were unoccupied: the Spiral, the Slaughter, the Hunt and the Extinction. 

Annabelle sat down in the head chair, which seemed just a little fancier. She put her folder in front of her, eyes flickering down the room. “It seems that Helen couldn’t make it. The Hunt duo seem to have...recently met unfortunate ends. The Slaughter Avatar called ahead to say that they couldn’t make it - it was high school picture day? And...I suppose the Extinction Avatar still doesn’t exist.”

She glanced at Jon, who shook his head. “Do you want one?” Jon asked. “I can go find a climate change denier in this building and make one for you.”

That also disturbed Annabelle, as well as everyone else. Jon abruptly felt awkward, and hunched in his seat. He defensively pulled out his DS, his plans to fall asleep in the back of the room already foiled. 

Above him, Annabelle continued droning. “Still, I appreciate you all coming. I know that we haven’t all gathered since a bit after the apocalypse began -” Wait, they had? Since when? “ - but I hope we can agree that further coordination is necessary. We’ve already begun having serious territory and jurisdiction disputes, and it’s best that they’re resolved sooner rather than later.” Nobody looked very impressed, but Annabelle looked seriously at them all anyway. “I want us all to have an equal voice at this table. Save the fighting for another time. And please try to keep your powers out of here. I’ve already sworn to avoid using any of my Mother’s gifts in this room, and I hope you all can do the same.”

“Yeah?” A woman drawled. She was unfamiliar to Jon, like most people in the room, but she had a teenage girl sitting next to her who seemed to be paying rapt attention to Annabelle. “How are you going to enforce that?”

Annabelle stared at him for some reason. Jon jabbed at his DS and won the Mona minigame. Nothing more was said. 

“Alright, then. I’ve already collected motions from all of you prior to this meeting.” Motions? Annabelle hadn’t said anything like that. Maybe it was on the invitation Daisy ate, but somehow he doubted it. Annabelle looked down and traced her finger down to her first point. “Many of you suggested this, so I would like to introduce it as a general discussion. Territory disputes, apparently, are a point of contention between many of us.” She opened her briefcase and pulled out a large map, and if Jon looked over the top of his DS he could see that it was a map of London. She also pulled out a red marker, uncapping it. The sheet was laminated, and there were already circles and markings all over it. “We’ll go one at a time. Amherst, you’ve motioned that the Stranger is intruding within Camden.”

A foppish looking man on a dumb little top hat scowled, as the young woman sitting behind the Strange placard looked annoyed. “It is gentrification. Every apartment complex occupied by artist studios are stealing food from the plate of my insects.”

“You haven’t had Camden for a decade,” the Stranger woman said, rolling her eyes. The Omniscience informed Jon that her name was Sarah Baldwin. Vaguely familiar - had he seen her at a cafe? “Nobody lives in those rat-infested tenements anymore. Now all the rats are performance art. Which is us. Get over it.”

“What is performance art -”

“Motion for no more Avatars over the age of 40,” Sarah Baldwin said. “I hate how Amherst and Wakely are in this room.”

“I wish I could second that,” Annabelle said, to the great affront of two grimy old men, “but unfortunately we do have to deal with this. Amherst, I’ve heard several complaints from other council members that you’re infiltrating their territory.”

“I am made of bugs -”

Jon checked out after that.

Instead, he surveyed the room a bit. Nobody in it was really interesting, just a meaningless collection of self-important people. The only person in the room other than Annabelle who he recognized was Oliver, who was sitting at the very back doing his best to fall asleep. When Jon Stared at him a bit he took notice and subtly waved. Jon shyly waved back. Jon liked Oliver. 

Oliver mouthed something adjacent to ‘what is wrong with your hair’, offending Jon grievously. He didn’t look that bad, did he?

He glanced to his left, then down, to ask Daisy’s opinion, but he realized too late that she hadn’t come with him. Stupid. She could have come as part of the Hunt - they didn’t have anybody, it wasn’t as if they could complain. Not to Jon, anyway. 

But she wouldn’t have wanted to. Daisy hated being an Avatar, for reasons that Jon had just never understood. She tried explaining it to him a long time ago, trying to talk about how guilty it made her and how much harm she had done, but it had just confused him more. She had tried to explain up until the end, as Jon had grown more and more angry at her for her refusal. He had never understood. 

She had stopped talking about it lately, though. Which was good. Jon didn’t know what he’d do if she starved herself twice. He wouldn’t have tolerated it.

Daisy had told him that the most important thing in the world was to make your own choices. So he let her make hers. No matter how much he hated it. 

The others weren’t familiar at all. There was a woman with wild dark hair sitting behind the Dark placard, which confused Jon slightly until he decided that they likely hadn’t wanted to send the thirteen year old. There was this really wrinkly and gross old man for the Vast, a younger looking but older feeling man for the Buried, a deathly pale woman for the Lonely, the muscular woman and the teenager for the Desolation...why did they have two…

The teenager was staring at Jon. She had intense orange eyes, the kind that bored into you and never blinked. She looked away every few seconds, as if she was being subtle, but when her gaze drifted back to him again he met her eyes with an unimpressed stare. She squeaked and looked away firmly, hiding behind her curtain of long red hair. 

Okay. Whatever. Kids were weird. Jon was glad he had never been one. 

Jon swapped out WarioWare for Pokemon SoulSilver, opening back up where he left off catching another MissingNo. His entire team was full of the things. He wanted a Mareep, damn it. 

Finally, Annabelle rapped the table sharply and said, “It’s agreed, then. Everybody submit specific written documentation of your territory by city block, and fax it to me by our next meeting. Please abide by the resolutions to the conflicts we discussed here. Any objections to moving onto our next order of business?”

“I have an objection to the Dark’s questionable behavior,” the Buried guy rumbled. He was dripping dirt everywhere. Why didn’t anybody complain to him about his hygiene? “In the words of the lad Brody, they are kill stealing. If they do not withdraw their nightmares from our embrace of the Earth, we will unleash retribution with extreme prejudice. The dirt is a holy place, and we will not be polluted by -”

“Oh, stick your shovel up your fat ass, Wakely,” the woman with wild black hair said. “People aren’t afraid of the fucking dirt, they’re afraid of the darkness in the tombs. Walk into a mausoleum sometime.”

“You poach the End’s territory now too, wench?”

“Please leave me out of this,” Oliver said. 

“If you call me wench one more time, you’ll be watching the back of your eye sockets for eternity,” the woman said pleasantly, “so royally fuck you.”

“Um, not to interrupt, but that’s not really how it works,” the teenager said, and the death glares between the two turned on her. She hunched her shoulders, but her expression stayed firm. “The terror is going to overlap. That’s just how it is. The Buried and the Dark are not entirely...separate things, they’re gradients that overlap. If you get all finicky about what belongs to who, then you’re just going in circles…”

“The last thing we need is the coward Messiah of the Eternal Flame telling me how to worship my god,” the woman snapped. 

“Watch your fucking mouth, Manuela,” the muscular woman said flatly.

Then they were glaring, and Wakely was saying something else snide, and Manuela was making another dig at the teenager as the muscular woman bitched, and Jon abruptly wanted them all to shut up. 

“You’re being too loud,” Jon said. 

The entire room shut up immediately. The teenager opened her mouth, but the pale woman caught her eye and shook her head. 

Annabelle clapped her hands in the silence. “Onto the second motion, then! Infrastructure! Right now we are sorely missing a great deal of essential city infrastructure, and it’s becoming a huge problem. We’re still figuring out what’s mystically maintained, and what’s just being maintained because the humans haven’t figured out how to stop doing it yet, but there’s some work that’s being neglected. The Vast has motioned to reinstate the postal system.”

“Vetoed,” the Lonely woman said. 

“You can’t do that,” Annabelle said blankly. “We need to vote.”

“I’d like to make an argument for the motion, dear,” the Vast man said, making Annabelle’s eye twitch. “My argument is this: Amazon Prime is so convenient!”

“We have every Amazon warehouse under our control,” the representative from the Flesh said. He was...very fleshy. “It’d be no issue to go back to production.”

“Jared has a point. The Eye’s been feeding through Amazon for years,” Annabelle said thoughtfully. The mention of the Eye piqued Jon’s attention, but then he finally ran into a Mareep and he stopped paying attention again. “We can tap into the people who are living 1984 and get them back in industry.”

“Can we begin producing again?” the Desolation woman asked, interested. “We have all these people miserable at work, but nothing’s actually being made. If we let a little reality break into the nightmares…”

“Wouldn’t that be dangerous?” the Lonely woman asked sharply. “It’ll make it easier for them to escape.”

“They all escape eventually,” Sarah Baldwin said. “They all break out in days to months. We can afford a little more permeability if we actually get things working again.”

Then conversation was off and running about something that Jon didn’t really care about, so he checked out again. He didn’t know what all of this production and infrastructure stuff meant. Going Postal meant that he had a very good understanding of a mail system, but he didn’t have a personal interest. Who he would send letters to?

Jon quickly downloaded what Amazon was. Oh, that would be useful. Wait, he could get any book delivered to his door? Without having to go out hunting for it? How would this work without the internet - a catalogue? 

Everybody seemed invested in getting the internet back up, except for the two hundred year olds. Jared kept saying something about porn, whatever that was. If enough people felt like Annabelle, then maybe they would make it a priority. Jon didn’t know how he felt about that. 

He didn’t know how he felt about the fact that it was impossible. 

But everybody - or most people - genuinely seemed excited about it. They even seemed to be working together, intent on the same goal.

Sarah Baldwin wanted to know if we have enough people constantly under camera to have footage for television. Maybe we could get cable back up? DVDs were a lost cause, but if we could just start airing the VHS tapes…

Annabelle had a look of hook-ups (literally) in the film industry, maybe they could do something like that?

The Hahns are highly involved in production and distribution, Jared pointed out. There was no need to produce food, but if we wanted to increase access to goods it might be possible. 

Why? Why did they care? This world provided them everything they needed. 

For some reason, Jon felt a little defensive. What did they need all of these things for, anyway? All of this entertainment - cable and movies and internet. The world had books. What was so wrong with books? There were even old VHS tapes liberated from charity stores if you really wanted to get fancy. The most high-tech electronic Jon had ever found was the DS in his hands and a couple of games, which Salasea had given to him as an exotic artifact. Only Salasea owned these things now: trinkets and curiosities, hallmarks of an antiquated time. 

What was the point of these supply lines? People didn’t need to eat or shop or consume. Nightmares provided the facsimile, and since they got a little crazy if they never ate they were provided the security of food. Buying towels and shoes and toys...it was a waste of time. People had towels. Nobody outgrew their shoes or wore them out. Children’s toys didn’t break, and anything that made happiness a little easier to come by was discouraged.

Nothing was ever subtracted. Nothing was added. The world was frozen, captured in the amber of time, and it would never move backwards and forwards.

They knew this. Didn’t they?

“We have to make this place livable for us,” Annabelle was saying. She spoke oddly intensely, with a fervor that Jon had seen in her a few times before. Annabelle didn’t like to give off the impression that she cared about things, but once you knew her it was hard to miss. “It’s easier than ever to stay powerful and feed our Forces, but that doesn’t mean we can grow complacent. We have to work together to eat sustainably. To live sustainably. If we don’t try to rebuild, at least enough to get the world moving again, then we’re sentencing ourselves to a boring and decrepit eternity in a world we will all see die within our immortal lifetimes.”

Everyone at the table was nodding. They looked determined. United. Almost...they held an expression that Jon just couldn’t name. An emotion he didn’t understand.

He had seen it in Daisy, once. She had called it hope. He hadn’t understood back then. He still didn’t. 

“Liar,” Jon said, as his minigame timed out and the game over music tinkled across the tinny speakers. 

Annabelle looked at him, expression inscrutable. “These problems are legitimate, Archivist. The writing’s clearly on the wall, and -”

“You’re all so stupid,” Jon complained, and Annabelle abruptly stopped talking to glare at him. Whatever. Jon had lost all patience. He closed his DS and dropped it on the table, resigning himself to talking. Jon hated public speaking, especially in front of so many people he didn’t know and, frankly, creeped him out. “You can’t build anything in this world. If you try to impose a cute little government then it’ll break down into cannibalism or something.”

“Would you know, Archivist?” Jared asked evenly. 

“Jonah didn’t enact this world through myself for living,” Jon said, bored, and everybody stared at him with wide eyes. “We created it for suffering. Suffering isn’t living.”

“One might say the opposite,” the Vast man said, somehow twinkingly. “Suffering is an unavoidable side effect of living, isn’t it?”

“Is that philosophy? I don’t understand philosophy.” Jon wasn’t very good with anything that required extensive and complex thought. Which made sense - Jonah hadn’t exactly created him to think. “Humanity has clouded your minds. Makes all of you irrational and sentimental. Release your attachment to the old world. Just accept the way things are now.” Jon shrugged. “It’s not as if you can do anything about it.”

“Nobody in this room is exactly human, Jon,” Oliver pointed out placidly. 

Jon snorted. “Wanting free porn back? You’re all dripping with it.” It was honestly a little sad. “The only ones in this world free of that weakness are Jonah and I. And he’s the only one who could do any of this.”

“Then where is he?” the Desolation woman snapped. She leaned forward, hands gripping the table in anger. The teenager watched her anxiously. “Why doesn’t he come on down from his high tower and explain what’s going on? We’re in the fucking dark here!”

“I’m sorry,” Jon said coldly, “who are you?”

He rubbed his bad hand. For some reason, everybody watched him do so. He stopped, self-conscious. 

“Prejudiced remarks aside,” Manuela said. She had been hostile all day, but she now spoke cautiously. “Jonah Magnus needs to take responsibility for this. We don’t even know how the world ended.”

Several people glanced at Annabelle, whose lips thinned. “I shouldn’t say.”

Of course she knew. And of course she wasn’t about to tell him. Whatever. Jon didn’t care. Past was the past. 

He found his hand clenching. There was a strange tension in his throat. He didn’t care. He didn’t. Rehashing the worst pain he had ever felt in his life, even now, wasn’t really worth the time or energy. He didn’t care.

“No use crying over spilled milk,” the Vast guy said lightly. “But it is a relevant question. Jonah frequently spoke of his plans, and I realize now that he had never truly shown all of his cards. But he had always held an intention to...well, rule. It’s only in this moment of his victory that he shows no interest.”

“Jonah’s busy,” Jon snapped. “Trust me, you don’t want that arse around. He never even gives me directions, and I’m his right hand.”

“Or his puppet,” Sarah Baldwin muttered. 

It was fair. Probably even true. So why did an intense and burning fury shoot through Jon?

“What gives this child the right to dictate us?” Wakely demanded. Jon’s hands clenched on the table until his knuckles turned white. “What gives Jonah Magnus the right to rule us?”

“He’s not much of a ruler,” Amherst grunted. “My vote’s that we rule this world in a council.”

“Administration is important,” Annabelle said, impossibly terse, “but unless anyone here actually has the means to seize control, then there’s no use voting on it.”

“There’s only one Avatar here who has those means,” Manuela said darkly, crossing her arms and looking straight at Jon. “So why doesn’t he do anything?”

They were feeding on each other. They wouldn’t have said these - these treasonous things by themselves. But when one person spoke up, the next felt empowered, and they felt as if they outnumbered him. Jonah Magnus was hardly there to press him into obedience - why buckle under his oppressive gaze? What could he do?

The stupidest people in this world all gathered in one room. It took a special level of arrogance, pride, and stupidity to assume that one was more powerful than Jonah Magnus.

“I’m not in charge of anything,” Jon said tersely. “I don’t even have a domain. I’m just trying to live my life.”

The Desolation woman snorted. “Typical. You’re rolling over for Jonah.”

Jon’s eyes widened - not in surprise, but in anger. 

The teenager seemed a little uncomfortable. “Jude,” she hissed, “I don’t think -”

“Jude,” Jon breathed. “So that’s your name.” 

He was standing up. Jon didn’t remember standing up. Everybody was leaning away, their own eyes wide. Some just looked confused, slightly perturbed - Wakely, Amherst. Others looked ready to bolt - Manuela, the old man from the Vast. Jon knew, in a flash of insight that grew hotter and hotter, that he preferred to be called Simon. 

“Sit down, Jon,” Annabelle said, as authoritative and no-nonsense as ever. Normally he’d listen to her, respecting that she usually knew what was going on far better than he ever did. But the words barely reached him, drowned out by the rushing in his ears. “Look, we can talk about this rationally, alright?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Jude said. She snorted, burning red eyes never leaving Jon’s. “As if I’m scared of this baby prick.”

“Maybe we can move on from Jonah Magnus,” Simon said quickly. “A discussion of airspace rights, perhaps -”

“Jon,” Oliver said, voice creased in worry, “are you okay?”

“This is the all-powerful demigod you all warned me about?” Amherst said. He was dripping with condescension, just like - just like everyone else - “He’s little more than a child.”

“Guys!” the teenager’s voice rang through the room, close to scared. “The walls are melting!”

So they were. It was as if the stone and wood was made of wax, sent guttering by a sputtering candle. Wood and finish were already pooling on the floor, melting the rolling wheel of Jared’s chair and forcing him to jump up from it. 

“Jon!” Annabelle said sharply. “Don’t throw a tantr -”

The table cracked sharply. It was warping, twisting in on itself as if it was a wrung towel. Jon realized, too late to care, that his hair was rising. He knew his eyes were spinning, an eternal churning wheel. 

“Fuck this, meeting adjourned.” Manuela stood up sharply, pushing her chair back into a melting bubble. The floor was beginning to bubble and warp. “See you all next month.” 

“I’ll walk you out,” Simon said quickly, standing up too. 

“You have two minutes,” Jon said, voice heavy with static. “Don’t bother me about this shit again.”

The signal was clear enough. Jude rose from her chair, grabbing her teenager’s elbow and pushing her out the door. The others followed in their wake, expressions carefully neutral. It was useless: Jon could taste their fear, their trepidation. Even better: their anger, barely brindled fury, and disgust. 

They couldn’t do anything about it, Jon thought giddily. No matter how much they hated or were scared of him, they couldn’t do anything about it. Jon was powerful. Jon couldn’t be hurt. Jon couldn’t - 

Jon couldn’t reign this in. 

Before he knew it, the conference room was empty. Only two other people remained: Annabelle, expression as inscrutable as ever, and an uncomfortable Oliver. His hands were stuck in the pockets of his pea coat, and he was looking around with disaffected interest - as if he was standing in line at a Starbucks in rush hour instead of in the epicenter of a melting building.

Jon knew. The entire building was dissolving. It was teeming with humans, lost and trapped and defenseless. He didn’t want to kill them. Jon didn’t like hurting people. He heard a voice speak in his head, foreign and familiar. Bring it in, Jon. 

But he couldn’t. His hair would fall back around his shoulders, and the static rushing through his ears just wouldn’t abate. It felt like everything was pouring out of him, a relentless faucet that wouldn’t stop churning out thick streams of putrid water. 

Jon fisted his hands in his hair, groaning. “Where’s -”

“She’s at your flat,” Annabelle said calmly. “Do you want me to get her?”

No. No, this was too embarrassing. He was an adult, he could handle this. Jon groaned again and sank into his seat, saved from the toxic waste of glass and brick. “No. Focus on getting the humans out of here.”

“What do you care?” Oliver asked, vaguely curious. “You don’t seem that fond of humanity.”

“Just do it!” Jon snapped, instead of admitting that he didn’t know either.

Eventually, the room stopped melting. Jon didn’t even want to think about how difficult it would be to leave the building. He could probably straighten out the hallways just enough to help Annabelle and Oliver get out.

Ugh. This place had sunk straight into Helen’s domain. He could taste it in the air: any future human who wandered in would be stuck in an endless spiral of twisted, melted hallways. Probably flavored with...powerlessness and fear. Feeling very small, as someone very large loomed down on you. Tories. 

At least he hadn’t sucked flattened the building into one plane again, robbing it of all spiritual and metaphysical dimensions. Jon had done that to a graveyard once. The place was putrid now. He had accidentally fallen into a grave and panicked and - anyway. 

He rested his forehead on the warped and splintered conference table, waiting for his throat to open back up and the rushing in his ears to die down. Finally, after what felt like forever, his hair floated back down and he felt his eyes resume their normal shape. 

Awkward silence loomed. Jon sighed. “Sorry.”

“I worked hard to arrange this, you know,” Annabelle said.

“Yeah.”

“I am not happy with you, Jon,” Annabelle said. 

“Sorry,” Jon said miserably. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I mean,” Oliver said, after a beat, “that’s kind of terrifying. That you can melt a building on accident. Like, what would happen if you got really pissed at Manchester or something?”

“Goodbye, Manchester,” Annabelle muttered. 

Jon lifted his head, glaring blearily at Oliver. “If you think that’s crazy, you should have been there the one time I opened up an extradimensional gate and unleashed nightmare terrors into the world, rendering all of humanity immortal and eternally trapped in endless infernal hellscapes.”

Oliver shrugged, conceding the point. 

But Annabelle just looked thoughtful. Probably reworking five billion plans, knowing her. Jon didn’t want to know, because he didn’t care. Let her do whatever she wanted. None of his business. Hopefully, after this disaster, she’d keep it out of his business. 

Finally, she asked, “Was that true? That there’s no moving us forward?”

Jon sighed. He really didn’t want to talk about this anymore. But if he didn’t tell her then she’d just bug him about it later, or find some way to get the information out of him that would be both convoluted and unpleasant. “I’m not saying that people can’t...live their lives. They’re obviously still going to work and typing in every digit of pi into their spreadsheets for eight hours and then going home to stare, hypnotized, into cable television. But I am saying that there’s no achieving more than that. There’s no going backwards, and there’s no going forwards. The past is closed to us, and so is the future.” He eyed her warily. “If you have any cute time travel ideas, forget it.”

“I would never,” Annabelle said innocently. 

Yeah, sure. Liar. Jon scowled. “You’re all hampered by your humanity.” When Oliver opened his mouth, Jon just shook his head. “Even Avatars are still people. We’re all conduits for eldritch Forces, hollowed out to serve as a live wire for their power, but we - you all remember a human life. You care about things. You have relationships. You love. It makes you weak. Some of you don’t even like your lot in life - some part of you aching for something familiar, when you felt genuine happiness instead of the cheap facsimile induced by causing pain.” Jon looked down at his hands, reflexively picking at one of his many scars. “You should be more like me. You’d be more focused.”

“Are you capable of...changing, Jon?” Oliver asked curiously. “Or will you be this way forever?”

“Most of Annabelle’s plans hinge on that not happening,” Jon said, not even aware it was true until he said it, “so I suppose we’ll find out.”

Of course, Jon knew what Oliver had tactfully not said. He had wanted to know if Jon would ever grow up. They all thought he was a child, even Annabelle. Jon had the feeling even Daisy did, sometimes. 

It was stupid and they were wrong. Child would imply adult, would imply birthday parties and learning to talk and learning geography. Jon didn’t have to learn geography. He knew geography. He didn’t age. He was born being able to talk. Jon was above all of these things. He was mature. And even if he wasn’t, who cared?

But Annabelle just smiled at Jon, a polite mask. Annabelle hadn’t made a genuine facial expression in - well, longer than Jon’s memory. Or maybe that was the wrong way to put it. Maybe it was more accurate that she never expressed an emotion that she didn’t mean to. “Well! That wasn’t entirely a disaster, was it? I think next time could go really well. Don’t worry, Jon, I won’t drag you out of bed again.” She propped her hands on her hips. “Now, the three of us are going back to your flat and doing something about your awful rat’s nest.”

Oh, lord. This was going to be terrible. “Do we have to?” Jon whined. 

Annabelle smiled again, but this time it was so dangerous that Jon couldn’t help but quail. “My spiders are collecting the avocado oil and coconut oil now. My best friend in secondary had 3C hair too, I think I know what to do. Oliver, bring the buzzer, scissors, and satin wraps.”

“Three cee?” Jon asked, confused. “What’s that?”

Oliver grimaced. “Why am I involved in this?”

“Because I don’t know what to do with a guy’s hair, and you’re probably the only guy I’ve ever met who knows what to do with hair? Keep up.”

“I’m feeling pigeonholed, but fine. But we are not buzzing that hair. It’s a crime against god.” Oliver looked thoughtful for a second. “I think Jon would do a nice, loose afro. I think I still have some hair masks and vinegar rinse -”

“Why is this so complicated?” Jon asked, completely freaked out. “What are these things?”

But Annabelle just smiled sweetly at him, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Jon. I’ll teach you what you need to know.”

Well. It seemed easier than figuring things out for himself. Jon didn’t like responsibility. Today was his first taste of responsibility in ages, and he had already decided that it sucked. Better to let somebody who actually cared take care of it. 

That way, he didn’t have to be powerful. Didn’t have to be anybody’s demigod on Earth, capable of murdering whoever he liked. He could just be Jon, Private Detective, Archivist. He could have fun. Just live. Didn’t he deserve that, despite everything?

He stood up too, summoning a shaky smile for Annabelle. “So you aren’t mad about me ruining your meeting, then?”

“Water under the bridge,” Annabelle said. “Now come on, we have to stop by the chemist’s and pick up a decent hairbrush.”

Hairbrush? What was that for?

****

Six months after time resumed its course

Jon opened his mailbox, only to find mail.

Suspicion immediately loomed. Jon didn’t get mail. Not due to any kind of impossibility, but just because he didn’t pay bills and none of the mimic junk mail was brave enough to try their luck with him. Maybe invoices, sometimes, but mostly those were dropped off in person. The invoices were scarier than the finger-biting mimics: he still didn’t quite know how they worked. Sasha kept insisting they were important, but Sasha also insisted face masks were important. She didn’t know everything. That was Jon’s job.

He grabbed the singular envelope anyway, elbowing his door back open as he inspected the envelope. Thick, rich, and creamy, it reminded Jon uncomfortably of Annabelle’s party invite from a while ago. In the front, he saw that it was addressed to...Agnes?

The living room was noisy and busy, entirely due to the recipient of the letter and her brother. They were playing Mario Kart on the Wii, and apparently disowning each other. Jon watched Agnes hit Gerry with a blue shell, slightly bemused, and saw Dry Bones spin out into the center and make a pitiful noise. Baby Peach loomed supreme. 

Jon almost felt bad interrupting. An opened bag of chips scattered dust around Gerry, and Agnes had a half-empty pack of uncooked hot dogs next to her. They had both been at this for a while. “Agnes, you got a letter. And try to keep it down, Sasha’s working and Daisy’s sleeping.”

Agnes turned around, half a hot dog hanging out of her mouth like a cigar. She swallowed it quickly, holding out one hand and letting Jon give her the letter. She frowned down at the front, ignoring the way Gerry craned his head to take a look, and when she checked the back she frowned deeper. There was a wax seal, its details out of sight to Jon. 

“Is it that time already?” Agnes muttered, putting her controller down and letting the parade lap on the screen continue. 

Gerry frowned too as Agnes carefully broke the seal. “Is that from…?”

“Yeah. Weird, though. Guess it’s about time for the follow-up to the emergency meeting.” She pulled a letter out of the envelope, embossed on creamy paper. She scanned it quickly. “Downing street this time…”

“Are you going to go?”

“Well, it’s not as if Jude can,” Agnes said diplomatically, refolding the paper. 

Jon cleared his throat, making the kids jump. They had half-forgotten he was there. Far too late, Agnes hid the invite behind her back. “Care to explain?”

“Oh, you know,” Agnes said vaguely, casually tossing the invite behind her shoulder and letting Gerry snatch it out of midair. “It’s the invite to the Avatar council meetings. I think they’re held once every three months, but since months are a theoretical concept it’s occasionally hard to tell..”

“Not these days,” Gerry said excitedly. “It’s cold! The leaves fell!”

“The leaf thing is dope,” Agnes agreed. “Anyway, I should go. I have, like, serious words. I already submitted ten motions. I want to run for Treasurer, but Jared keeps saying that anybody who isn’t old enough to open her own bank account shouldn’t be treasurer.”

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Jon asked blankly. Was this some kind of youth league? Baseball? Was this baseball?

Abruptly, Agnes looked very sketchy. “I...it’s really nothing you’d be interested in.”

“I am interested in everything,” Jon said. He was offended beyond all belief. “Don’t keep secrets!”

“Jon’s not a big fan of secrets,” Gerry stage-whispered. “Did Annabelle say that we shouldn’t tell him or did she just say not to bother him about it?”

Agnes abruptly started sweating wax. “I can’t remember.”

“Now you have to tell me,” Jon said flatly. 

They gave up very quickly. Teenagers loved hiding things, but they also loved drama and spilling secrets. “It’s the Avatar council meeting thing,” Gerry said eagerly. “You know, where you guys all get together and re-enact the British empire by making government decisions and imposing made-up laws on the people you’ve conquered and are currently subjugating under your big stompy boots?”

“I’m changing the system from the inside,” Agnes said proudly. 

Gerry shot her an unimpressed look. “Okay. Yeah. Sure. Because that’s a thing that makes sense in an inherently corrupt system with an inherently unethical existence that exists to be profitable at the expense of the marginalized.”

“I don’t understand anything children these days even talk about,” Jon said. 

“I’m surprised you don’t remember it,” Agnes said to Jon. But she had a strange expression on her face, one hard to decipher. “It’s where we met.”

Jon stared at her blankly. “I don’t remember talking to you.”

“I was sitting next to Jude?” Agnes hinted. “Teenager? Red hair?”

Wait. Jon snapped his fingers. “Annabelle’s idiot thing! Right! Right, of course, Oliver made me sit still for five hours afterwards, it was insufferable.” 

Wait. Jon abruptly remembered the rest of that day. It seemed like so long ago, even though it was probably objectively only about three years. It must have been about...yes, a few months after Daisy had gotten stuck...

He barely remembered those tepid and awful months. He had been on a bit of a hair trigger back then. It had been really tough, with Daisy leaving and his terrifying encounter with Jonah. He remembered everybody had been annoying and mean and made him feel bad…

“First time I ever remember feeling fear, honestly,” Agnes said to Gerry. “Scariest moment of my life. Remember when we first met Jon? All I could think about was that he was going to melt us like he melted that building.”

Hot shame flared in Jon’s gut. Right. Other people were real, and existed, and were probably more important than his...what had he even been upset about? He didn’t remember. 

He melted a building and he didn’t even remember why. 

“I’m going too,” Jon said, and both kids startled. “I’m coming with you.”

Agnes and Gerry stared at each other with wide eyes. 

“Uh,” Agnes said finally, hesitant, “there’s about a 50/50 chance Annabelle said not to tell you about this, and you definitely didn’t get an invite, so statistically you probably aren’t -”

“She can’t exactly stop me from coming,” Jon said, and both kids quieted. 

Power-tripping had lost all appeal for Jon - assuming role as a conduit for global and absolute power did that to you - but he couldn’t deny it was useful sometimes. The world probably could have stood a little more power-tripping from him, actually. At least, it would have been helpful if he had ever done anything helpful with it. But he had never really bothered. 

But Agnes still looked perturbed, almost worried. “Annabelle’s like one of two people you used to ever listen to, so if you don’t really care what she thinks anymore -”

“I think Annnabelle knows better than to complain these days,” Jon said. 

It probably was for the best that Jon didn’t listen much to Annabelle anymore. 

****

Jon hadn’t really told the others about Annabelle’s worse-than-murder attempt. 

It didn’t really seem like any of their business, and he had spinned a vague explanation of how the situation happened. He didn’t lie, just - withheld information.

For the first time, the truth didn’t seem so important. He had the feeling it would have just upset them. It wasn’t as if he would take revenge against Annabelle. The world needed her, and Jon was a little tired of murdering everyone who upset him. The others (Daisy) would insist on the little murder attempts if they knew, but that was probably part of why he didn’t tell them. If they never knew about the one unselfish thing he had done in his life - well, one unselfish thing didn’t make up for three years of selfishness, so there was very little point.

Martin suspected. Actually, Martin seemed to know, which terrified Jon slightly. It was impossible to get anything past Martin. Jon was deeply intimidated by the man. Sasha laughed very long and hard when he told her that, for unknown reasons. 

Besides, it wasn’t as if he felt betrayed. Even if the last time he had attended one of Annabelle’s little council meetings he still trusted her, that had faded quickly in favor of complete apathy. Even then, as young as he was, he had never expected the truth from her. Just friendship. Whatever she was doing, it probably wouldn’t affect him, so there was no use in worrying. Even if Annabelle slightly terrorized every other person in the United Kingdom - well, Jon was fine, so what did it matter.

Jon couldn’t decide if he was stupid or naive. Or, even worse - if he was just lazy. 

Jon didn’t listen to Annabelle anymore. 

Unfortunately, he still listened to Sasha James. 

Two weeks later, the date of the actual meeting, Jon was stuck explaining himself to his entire house, who doubted all of his decisions. Which was just unfair. Jon made good decisions! He had made tons of good decisions, like -

Anyway!

“I think it’s a great idea,” Sasha said, freaking out Jon. “Displaying interest in your local government’s fantastic! Did you do any research on the relevant issues?”

Jon, in the middle of pulling on his trenchcoat, started sweating. “I was just planning on showing up.”

Agnes, who was wearing a gauzy skirt and blouse as Daisy helped a whining Gerry with his court buttons, gave Sasha the thumbs up. “I’m going to propose motions and Jon’s going to say ‘yeah what she said’ and it’ll be great.”

Jon let Agnes believe that.

“Well, you’ll have to share Jon’s political weight,” Sasha said cheerfully. She was in sweatpants and one of Jon’s pilfered t-shirts again. She had recently designated herself a writer, and had joined some sort of recent artist and activist collective where they did mysterious things that Jon didn’t understand. There’s a zine involved? Jon didn’t know what a zine was and he was scared to ask.

Georgie and Melanie had spent a week teaching Jon in laborious detail what exactly the internet was - information Jon could have just downloaded, but they had been intent in their mission of creating ‘the perfect internet’ and had gone through great effort in teaching him what the ‘good’ internet was (Ravelry, Spotify, r/HobbyDrama, YouTubers but only a very specific list) and what the ‘bad’ internet was (social media, the rest of Reddit, every other YouTuber). Jon wasn’t sure if the new internet was to their specifications, and he hadn’t quite been able to avoid parts of it spiralling into nightmare dimensions and hellish breeding grounds for violence and trauma, but Melanie assured him that Twitter had always been like that. 

Jon also secretly added a nightmare filter to Melanie’s screen reader, after he made sure every inch of it was accessible, after he roughly recreated screen readers. Melanie said that the voice sounded uncannily like the aunt she had hated, but that it was no big deal. 

Anyway, Sasha was a blogger now. After a few meltdowns to Sasha’s computer he had to install a nightmare filter for her too, which made her complain about feeling like an old woman whose grandson had to install AdBlock on her browser. Jon was a little scared of the whole blogging thing, but everybody seemed much happier, so maybe that was the important thing.

“Wait,” Jon said, finally recognizing what Sasha said. “Share with who?”

There was a knock on the door. Jon felt intense fear.

“She’s here!” Sasha said cheerfully. “Come in!”

Jon watched in horror as Basira Hussain casually strode into her house. He knew he couldn’t stop her. She had a key to the place, because Jon had no control of his life. 

“Hey honey,” Basira said, intimately. 

“Hey honey,” Daisy said lovingly, releasing Gerry from her clutches.

They stared at each other, as if this was any kind of greeting whatsoever, before ignoring each other. Jon did not understand so many things. 

Basira, terrifyingly, was dressed like she was about to go defend her client in court. She had a briefcase, and Jon recognized her most important looking crimson hijab. Very abruptly, Jon had a flashback to the way Annabelle had dressed when she had picked him up in his old office. They even had the same expression: determined and resolute, in a way that Jon could never understand. 

Basira nodded at Jon. “Hey. Sasha invited me to this thing. She told you I was coming, right.”

“She did not.”

“Whatever. Are we going to get going? We’re going to be late.”

Jon looked at Sasha pleadingly. Cold and resolute stone, Sasha showed no mercy. She smiled brightly, giving Agnes a final hug and pushing her forward. “You kids have a great time! Terrorize the bourgeoisie!”

“I am the bourgeoisie,” Jon said blankly, but the situation had already spiraled out of his control. Agnes and Basira were already comparing lists of notes, seriously discussing the motions Agnes had raised and how she was going to help Basira. 

That was it – how Agnes could help Basira. How Agnes, and the role she had in the council hall, could help Basira and the people Jon knew that she intended on representing today. 

They hadn’t even looped him in. Had they assumed that he wouldn’t care? That he wouldn’t help? Agnes hadn’t even wanted him there. Only Sasha -

He felt a cool, small hand grab his arm, and he turned around to see Daisy. Gerry was already enthusiastically capturing Sasha about the concert he and Agnes were going to later, and Jon knew that they weren’t listening. Daisy’s expression was somber, her body tense. Daisy wasn’t one for facial expressions at the best of times – not even a new development – but something about this…

“I should go with you,” Daisy said. 

“I already told you no,” Jon said, miffed. “I can handle this by myself.”

“I shouldn’t have let you go by yourself last time,” Daisy said. Jon could admit that things probably wouldn’t have spiraled out of control if she had been there, but that didn’t mean – “Don’t terrify yourself just because you feel guilty.”

Daisy hadn’t aged any more than the rest of the world had. As an Avatar, she likely never would. She even looked young for her mid-forties, with her short stature and broad, unlined face. Sasha had assured him that she was ‘Kristen Bell-ish’, whatever that meant. But she always seemed so old to him: larger than life and not even reaching his shoulders. Wise and world-weary even when, as Jon was beginning to see, she didn’t know what she was doing any more than the rest of them did. 

It scared Jon, almost: if Daisy wasn’t the person who could swoop in and make it all better, then who could? 

If Jonah wasn’t the omnipresent god, then who was the most powerful person in the world?

Jon shook her off, fighting the pull in his gut. “I’m not scared of them anymore.”

She didn’t look impressed. “You’re always scared.”

“Look at the time, going to be late, gotta go!” 

He still couldn’t win an argument against her. 

They took a taxi there, as Jon had cheerfully informed them that the Tube was delayed due to infernal leaves on the line (Work-from-home was the hot new thing these days). Basira was clearly on edge, tense and constantly keeping an eye on the taxi driver (a friendly skeleton) and the street. Agnes wasn’t any more relaxed, reading her notes over and over. 

Jon leaned back in his plush seat, closing his eyes. What would Martin say? He would probably be cuttingly pointing out how Jon was in denial over how he really was secretly afraid of the Avatars and now it was even more dangerous because he was much more willing to power-trip. 

Forget about what Jon wanted. Forget about his fear, his insecurities, and every rationale he had constructed for himself as to why Jon deserved a life free of these worries.

Jon was above politics. The Avatar with no need to defend their territory, who held no fear of death or failure, had no need. Jon could not lose the affection of his patron. His domain was the world, and it could not be attacked no matter how hard he tried. Jon was not a politician, so of course that meant he could not be manipulated by politicians -

“What’s your plan,” Jon asked, without opening his eyes.

They told him. Basira was clinical; Agnes excited. Jon didn’t say anything about it, and let the conversation die down until the taxi was rolling in front of 10 Downing Street. Didn’t the prime minister live here? Boris...something? Jon quickly downloaded the information, before he found that Boris Johnson had been the world’s most convoluted psy-op by Annabelle and had never exactly existed. Thank goodness.

Right as the taxi idled in front of the building, Jon opened his eyes. He let them flare up, an intimidating spark of toxic green. “You two follow my lead.”

“Excuse me,” Basira said flatly, as Jon waved at the driver in lieu of payment. He hadn’t found out that you were supposed to pay taxi drivers until...a few months ago. In his defense, they never asked. “This is our operation.”

Jon glanced at her, and something relaxed around the corners of her eyes. He wondered if his expression was familiar to her. He couldn’t help but smile weakly, and that softened her expression even more. “Will you trust me?”

Basira stared at him for one long beat, then two, before grimacing. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Do I usually make you regret it?” 

“Literally, every single time,” Basira said. 

“Then it’s a pretty stupid decision to trust me again,” Jon pointed out. “You don’t seem the type to make stupid decisions.”

Basira stared at him for a long moment, before leaving the car. 

Jon and Agnes silently watched her leave, before glancing at each other. 

“And I thought you ran from your feelings,” Agnes said finally, before following her. 

Jon, left with nothing else to do, followed Agnes.

10 Downing Street, Jon quickly found, was just like every other pretentious old British home. With lots of grandiose rooms with furniture shoved into corners so everybody could appreciate the gold-plated tile, or sitting rooms with the most uncomfortable places to sit Jon had ever seen. Each wall hosted gigantic portraits of famous British figures, who were all so ugly that Agnes incinerated one for fun. Jon respected her choices: he had been wearing a stupid wig. 

Jon, unfortunately instinctively aware of the layout and history of this sordid place, led them through the halls. He opened his mouth, instinctively about to funnel a Statement regarding the decades of human suffering and imperialism, before forcing his mouth closed. Basira wouldn’t appreciate it. Besides, the Statements had been easier to ignore lately - like curious dogs nosing at his hands rather than insistent children demanding to be fed. 

Instead, he settled on casually updating them on the choice of location. “A year ago, this location wouldn’t have been safe for Basira at all. This building was a nightmare pit of despair.” He led them up the ridiculous flights of stairs watching carefully as Agnes jumped up them. Trick steps, you know. Basira proceeded far more cautiously. “It’s...no less a nightmare pit, but like the rest of London it’s now safe to navigate. I’d keep clear of the residential rooms, however. The Prime Minister and his family haven’t escaped their nightmares since the apocalypse, and they never will.”

Basira’s eyebrows skyrocketed up. “David Cameron’s stuck in hell? No surprise there. What’s he having a nightmare about?” 

“Well, there’s this pig, right, and you’ll never guess what he’s doing -”

“Never mind,” Basira said quickly. “Not interested.”

“I’m interested,” Agnes said. 

“I’d rather you weren’t.”

Jon, who also wished he didn’t know this information, quickly directed them towards the conference room.   

But he found himself stopping in front of the intricately carved oak double doors. The wrought golden handles were grimy and dull with dust, but Agnes and Basira did not hesitate to open the door and walk in. They didn’t hesitate; they weren’t frightened. Or, if they were, they didn’t let it stop them.

But Jon stopped. He felt like Annabelle, in that moment. Annabelle, standing in front of that conference room door so long ago, unable to admit that she felt any fear at all. 

She had been desperate. Jon saw that now. Only a desperate person would have ever concocted that plan against Jon. He was the sole person capable of murder in this world, and the sole person who was so vindictive and petty that he would kill anybody who said something that he didn’t like. 

Annabelle was arrogant. She thought herself the most intelligent person in every room. She was petty, manipulative, and power-hungry. She thought that the world was so broken that somebody had to fix it, and that she was the only one who could. She was desperate. 

Jon didn’t particularly want to do this. But Jon really, really had to grow up. 

Jon opened the door. 

It was a far cry from the nice, professional conference room in City Hall. The floor was some ugly light brown hardwood color, and the walls were tudor-like and panelled. Old man ribboned curtains, an intricate rug woven from human rights abuses, and a claw-foot long conference table with an array of chairs made up an incredibly ‘antique’ room. The British found ‘antique’ and ‘wealth signalling’ to be the same thing. It made for some very ugly buildings and very uncomfortable chairs.

 Nobody else had entered yet. Jon checked the time with his extradimensional psychic powers and realized that Sasha had hustled them out the door fifteen minutes earlier than necessary. She was so intelligent. 

Agnes was already moving to her uncomfortable seat, and Jon tapped Basira on the arm and silently pointed to the seat with the ‘EXTINCTION’ placard. She raised an eyebrow at him, but followed his direction. Maybe that was what her trust looked like. 

There was a placard stamped ‘BEHOLDING’ in big letters. Gone unoccupied since the last time Jon had been here. 

He ignored it, and sat down at the head of the table. Likely where Annabelle usually sat, as director of the meetings. Historically, where the leader of Britain had once sat and directed the affairs of the country.

Jon kicked up his heels on the polished antique wood, pulling up an episode of The Twilight Zone in his brain. He identified with Rod Serling. 

The other Avatars filtered in, one by one. All of their eyes widened when they saw Jon, but none of them said anything. Jon wondered what had filtered through the Avatar grapevine. They always knew all of the gossip on each other. It was impossible to miss the Earth’s paradigm shift, and Agnes mentioned that they had convened an emergency meeting on it. Doubtlessly, his name had come up. They likely knew he was the instigator. Who else could?

Annabelle was the fourth in, as fashionably on time as usual. She was the only one who stopped in her tracks when she saw Jon. A surprise, to a woman unused to surprises. Jon’s house didn’t have insect problems. 

Her eyes widened. Her jaw clenched. That was all it took. And Jon Knew, in the way that he Knew things, that she was wondering if this was when he finally killed her. 

She didn’t know why she was still alive. It was stressing her out. It was a move that made no sense - an unforeseen reaction. Jon was predictable. When Jon wasn’t predictable, and when Jon’s actions weren’t being very precisely controlled, then she was left with a vindictive and irreverent steam train on her hands. She hadn’t predicted his presence here. 

Jon was also sitting in her chair. Scuffing the wood. Leaning back in the chair, and definitely scuffing the floor too. 

He pointed to the chair at his right, with a placard that now read ‘WEB’. Annabelle sat down in it. Everybody noticed. 

Everybody also noticed Basira. She was receiving some glares, or some pointedly unwelcome expressions. But Basira’s glares and unwelcome expressions were more powerful than any demon could ever offer, and one by one each Avatar looked away in shame.

Only Oliver actually talked to him. Which made sense, as Oliver feared neither life nor death. When he walked in he was just as surprised to see Jon as everyone else, but he offered Jon a smile too. Jon smiled back, which made several of the other Avatars lean back.

“Hey, Archivist. I thought you hated these things.” 

“I do!” Jon said cheerfully. “I wasn’t even invited.”

Annabelle busied herself with her notes and agenda. 

As usual, Helen didn’t show up. Jon waited patiently for everybody to filter in. Sarah Baldwin didn’t show up either, and Jon searched for the information before realizing that he really didn’t want to know. He saw some other new faces, as well as some faintly familiar ones. It wasn’t that strange: no position of absolute power was forever. Where was that bloke Wakely?

Wait. He was the Avatar who had talked for too long about burying people alive at a party in a ridiculous skyscraper. He had upset Daisy. Jon had seen red and lost his temper. Jon had...tossed him over the side of the roof. Let him keep falling. Left him to waste away. He was probably gone now. 

The entire room had been at that party. Whoops. 

Now uncomfortably reminded that Jon had murdered two people at this table, that everybody was aware of that, and that Jon had completely forgotten about one of the semi-accidental murders because, in Sasha’s words, he was “a bit of a psychopath, what the hell”.

This distressed her, because apparently Jonathan Sims had always been a “sensitive boy” with a “tender heart”. Daisy had said that he was still a sensitive boy, just prone to power-tripping. Sasha said that this was also very consistent behavior. Martin said -

Martin said that Jonathan Sims had been a good person. And, more importantly, that Jonathan Sims had wanted to be a good person. That was one thing that Jon didn’t want to change. 

Who just buried people alive -

Jon waited until everyone was settled down. Nobody was chatting or talking to each other: just sitting silently, avoiding eye contact. 

He could see Annabelle preparing herself to say something. Better get this ball rolling, then.

“Jonah Magnus is dead.”

The silence suddenly became oppressive. 

Jon didn’t stop to savor the looks on their faces. That wasn’t the point. Enjoying this wasn’t the point. Jon had all the power he wanted and - and he didn’t want it at all. He hoped that nobody here would make him have to prove it. 

Jon did not want to melt anyone. He wasn’t going to melt anyone. Life had started feeling a little valuable lately. These people, the soulless demons surrounding him, weren’t any different than he was. Humans with delusions of grandeur. Infighting and power plays weren’t going to fix it. 

But Annabelle had been right, as she always was. Jon couldn’t keep ignoring this. If he could do something, he had to. Even if it was something he didn’t like doing. 

Or something he hated that he enjoyed doing. 

“Jonah Magnus is dead,” Jon repeated pleasantly. “The world has changed. These two events are related, of course.”

He didn’t elaborate. Jon didn’t lie, but he didn’t have to say everything. 

“The chains which bind this Earth have loosened,” Jon continued. He folded his hands over his stomach, relaxed and casual. “We now exist in the third age of life. I ask that you do not resist.

“The seasons have begun to change, our eternal placid summer ripening into fall and sinking into winter. Our world turns yet again. Babies are born, grow old, and die. The apocalypse as we’ve always known was rooted in its stagnancy. Life and growth has bloomed, and will continue to subsist. Change is once again thriving, and we must adapt with it.

“You’ve noticed that your power has weakened. You will have to fight harder than ever to maintain your food supplies. What was once a conquest is now a battleground. The playing field is far from even, but the enemy and harvest now have a fighting chance.” Jon smiled brightly. “Of course, I’m sure that this was all discussed during your emergency meeting. Great job with your repeated warfare attempts against humanity during the last six months, by the way. How’s that working out for us?”

Silence loomed. Of course, their repeated attempts to quash the new human uprising had not gone very well. At the end of the day, for every one Avatar there were thousands of humans. 

“You are no longer strong enough to allow these divides into factions,” Jon continued. “We must present a united front if we’re going to maintain the ground we have. We can’t continue on the way we have. And I’ve realized…” Jon glanced at Annabelle, catching her eye. “I’ve realized that I haven’t been helping the situation. There’s more I can do. That’s why Annabelle has handed over moderation of these meetings to me.”

Nobody looked impressed. 

He could see it: the way Jon had become an unpredictable, dangerous nuisance towards them. Almost everyone in this room would be much happier if Jon dropped dead. Nobody had really liked him because nobody had ever felt safe around him. Only Annabelle and Oliver - the person who had nothing to fear from him and the other person who did not feel fear - called themselves his friends. 

But they would have preferred it if Jon was hostile or dangerous. If he had even admitted his power. But Jon play-acted at harmlessness, unwilling and afraid to make enemies, and in that way he became a nuisance rather than an enemy. He couldn’t even pretend that it wasn’t on purpose. No matter how many Avatars brushed him off or ignored him, it was better than feeling their eyes on him. Or feeling the fear rich on their tongues. 

 “Also I invited a human to work with us on human affairs,” Jon said cheerfully. “Diversity hire! Any questions?”

There were a lot of questions. Basira didn’t look very pleased at his remark, either. 

Simon leaned forward first, pale and watery eyes intent for the first time. “What happened to Jonah Magnus?”

“Natural causes,” Jon said cheerfully. “Next?”

“What does this mean for us?” the Lukas matriarch said. Her eyes skittered away from him. “Are we in danger?”

Jon shrugged. “Only if you’re incompetent at feeding.”

“What caused this?” Manuela demanded. “The children are running wild, we can’t control them. We’ve lost a major food source.”

Jon scratched his temples. “What caused it...sustainability efforts.” He sobered abruptly. “You could never control the children, anyway. This is the generation of the apocalypse. You’ll find that very little frightens them now.”

“Does this have to do with those humans you’ve been running around with?” Jared asked, scratching his chin as Manuela’s expression contorted in rage. 

As usual, a frighteningly insightful observation from such a brute. “It is actually directly their fault!”

Everybody turned to look at Basira, who was completely unapologetic. She crossed her arms. “Don’t ask me. First I’m hearing about this too.”

“Did you kill Jonah Magnus?” Oliver asked, morbidly fascinated. “How?”

“We humans didn’t kill him. We showed up at the Panopticon to kill him, only to find Jon there and Jonah Magnus already dead.” Basira scowled as Jon and Annabelle glanced at each other. Jon subtly shook his head. Annabelle’s lips thinned. “It looked like he’d been dead for years.”

An unfamiliar young man with a thick mop of clumped black hair peered at Jon, expression contorted in grotesque interest. He was one of the Avatars who had been born in the Apocalypse, who were all recognizably weird. His name was - right, Geoff Anjou. Some French man who had made his mark in the Parisian Underground before moving to London and conquering his next terrain. A Parisian to the bone - or, a great deal of bones, as the case may be. So many bones. Jon had always meant to take Daisy to that wonderful little nightmare and let her run loose. Chase people through the tunnels. Munch bones. Perfect vacation. 

“So did the Archivist kill him?” Geoff asked, in the same way you would ask who won the World Cup. “Steal his Watcher’s Crown or whatever?”

“Are you the new queen bee?” a young woman asked Jon. The new Slaughter Avatar, Henrietta Something-or-another. A Cambridge legacy college student, Annabelle had intoned, and Jon had been afraid to inquire further. She was cyberbullying someone on her mobile, which seemed to be bleeding. “Cuz, like, you don’t seem qualified.”

“I did not kill Jonah Magnus,” Jon said, for the five hundreth time in the last six months. “And I’m uninterested in filling his shoes. That’s enough questions, I think.”

“Are you as weakened as the rest of us?” Amherst demanded. “Surely this destruction has affected you worst of all.”

“He probably ate Jonah Magnus,” Henrietta said. “The Archivist’s probably god now.”

Geoff snorted. “No way. He brought a human as back-up.”

“Why is there a human?” Another woman asked, with long brown hair and a broad face. Something about her was unquestionably severe, from her bulging muscles to her incredible height. Jon had never seen her before in his life. Her name was Julia Montauk. Something about her stank of life and undeath, same as Amherst. “We can’t exactly work with the prey, here.”

“I’m proposing an emergency motion,” Amherst said suddenly, shutting up the rapidly overlapping voices. “I vote that a leader is elected democratically. And that representatives are limited towards loyal patrons of the Forces.”

“I second that motion,” Geoff said immediately. “We can’t afford a chaotic uprising in our government right now -”

“This really isn’t a vote,” Jon said. 

“Isn’t this a democracy?” Henrietta asked, with the self-righteous assurance of a twenty year old. “We vote on things in a democracy. And leaders.”

“Annabelle was voted in last spring,” Julia agreed. “No reason to change things.”

Well. Basira said that she trusted him. He’d have to rely on that.

Jon pressed down. 

It felt just like that: pressing down. Reaching out a hand and squashing. Sometimes it was like ripping someone into shreds, and other times it was like plunging your hand into their chest and ripping out their heart. But this was just a press: a heavy static, bearing down over your shoulders like a ten ton weight. A sight so horrible that it was too eldritch to even look at. The realization that the hideous sight was you, and that it was all you would ever be.

Some - Geoff, Amherst - gasped, as if they were choking. Others - Lukas, Henrietta - gasped at their hearts, as if they were having heart attacks. Jon carefully kept it off Oliver, Annabelle, Basira, and Agnes. He couldn’t help but remember what she had said a few weeks ago, about being so frightened - 

But Basira winced anyway, clutching her temples, and Jon carefully released the static until the inhabitants of the room could breathe again. His eyes did not stop glowing, and Jon didn’t bother to turn off the light show. 

Jon put his feet down on the floor and rested his elbows on the table, leaning forward. As everyone shuddered and gasped, he spoke slowly and pointedly. “This is not a democracy. It never was. It is a monarchy, and the line of succession is clear.”

Annabelle’s eyes widened, and she abruptly clenched her fists before loosening them. An uncharacteristic show of emotion from her.

“This coalition has never been a democracy,” Jon said severely. “This is a house of lords. You are uninterested in representing any needs but your own, and I know Jared failed level eight government, but I’m sure all of you know that democracy represents elected officials. Nobody here has ever lived in a true democracy, and in your human fallibility you have recreated the only system you have ever known. The seats at this table are determined by power - all of you, the most powerful conduits for your Entity. I am the inevitable consequence of this system. I am your natural disaster. All of you bought me. Now you have me. And you are no longer powerful enough to make me leave.”

Agnes’ hand was covering her mouth. Jon dearly hoped Basira was holding onto that trust. He dearly hoped that he wasn’t speaking from anger. 

But he couldn’t stop. It boiled and bubbled. It was an anger and a powerlessness that had subjugated him for thirty two years of his life. It had served as the cloud hanging over his head for three more. 

“If you want someone to blame for the Archivist who now moderates this meeting,” Jon said, his voice the thin lid over this boiling pot of hurt and anger, “I now know their names. Jonah Magnus. Jude Perry. Nikola Orsinov. Twice. Breekon and Hope’s coffin. Peter Lukas. Jane Prentiss. Maxwell Raynor. A strategic book.” Jon tilted his head, having effectively made his point. There were others, but he had forgiven Daisy and Melanie a long time ago. And Jared had been polite about it. “Bring up your complaints with them. Good luck with that.”

Jon clapped his hands, closing the lid on those memories. Maybe one day the pain would leech from them like a sun-bleached painting, but that day hadn’t come yet. “Now! If you have any further complaints about my position here, or if you want to continue debating political theory, feel free to stand up and tell me so. We’re all interested in you regurgitating your life story until you die. Anyone?” Crickets. Jon leaned back in his chair, making himself comfortable. “Can we go onto the motions now? Ms. Hussain first, then clockwise from her.”

As if they had planned this, with the air of a well-choreographed actress, Basira stood up and spread out her papers in front of her. “The human contingency requests neutral zones in essential areas. Maternal wards in hospitals are highly vulnerable locations, and when assaulted by parasites the mortality rate of children is very high. If you want a self-replenishing food source, you have to allocate space for safe living. The next essential zone is a daycare and a school for children -”

And she was off. Jon had nothing to say, nor was anything necessary. Raging debate sparked after she finished speaking, and Basira effectively crushed the opposition. Agnes spoke up in her defense, and to Jon’s surprise even Manuela contributed a solid understanding of the necessity of children. When the debate started spiraling in an unhelpful direction Jon cut in and shut it down, before forcing the vote. 

It did not pass, obviously. 

“By the way,” Jon said. “Ms. Hussain proposed five different motions today. At least two of them have to pass. This debate is about picking which two you want.”

Then that started up all over again, and Jon tried not to fall asleep.

Moderating was hard. He actually had to pay attention and focus, and he hated focusing. He was effective enough at shutting down conversations, but sometimes shutting down conversations wasn’t helpful - he just needed to steer them in a more productive conversation. And Agnes’ political theory and Basira’s almost-definitely-made-up statistics started flying so thick and fast above his head that Jon was starting to almost completely lose the plot.

Jon chose his moment as the Lukas woman was complaining extensively about how Henrietta’s digital bullying was intruding upon the Loneliness of her adherents. Henrietta had argued that social media made people more lonely. Jon was afraid that Henrietta was his fault. Maybe the Eye’s fault, holistically. Jared wanted to be friends with Henrietta and co-host Instagram events, which Jon enthusiastically supported despite Basira’s glares.

He leaned over to his right, gesturing slightly at Annabelle so she would lean in closer. She raised an eyebrow at him. Annabelle’s eyebrows were crushing. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Jon whispered to her, as quietly as possible. 

Annabelle mouthed very clearly at him, ‘Wow, really? Shock!’. 

“I was making a point,” Jon hissed. “An important point. But I don’t - I still -” Jon faltered, uncertain, as Henrietta began sneering something about Lukas’ hairdo. Finally, he weakly said, “You care. They need you.”

Annabelle stared at him for a long, silent moment, before turning away from him. 

For the first time that day, she spoke to the room. “Let’s keep ad hominem attacks out of this,” she said sharply. “Madame Lukas, if you’ll make your closing remarks we can bring this to a vote.”

She really was good at it. Just like she had always wanted. She had never directly admitted it, but Annabelle had always wanted to be the kind of person in rooms like this. 

A politician sitting in an uncomfortable chair at 10 Downing Street. Rich, successful, important. Powerful and respected. Back then, she had wanted to be famous. Now, she was content to be controlling famous people. A dream out of her reach in life; laughably attainable in this stagnant after-afterlife. 

The dream had crippled her. In her search for a functional world, one that achieved and grew and provided a comfortable world, she had ended up recreating a world that hadn’t been functional at all. A world that was slow to change, and seemingly impossible to improve. A world passed down from the hands of the greedy and bloodthirsty into the hands of the uncaring and apathetic. 

The apocalypse had been inevitable. Humans driving themselves to extinction. And Avatars, possessed of human weakness, had been eager to do the same. Just a pathetic room of sour and bitter people power-tripping. 

For all that Sasha calls us bougie, Jon thought, we’re such deeply unhappy people. 

There had once been a young man, desperate for attention and acknowledgement. Dreaming of importance. He would stay up late at night, planning out his life as a famous researcher and well-respected philosopher. Everyone would tell him how smart he was. He would prove it all - with a scholarship to Oxford, with a sneer and a haughty air, with a boss who said that he had so much promise, here’s a job that will let you realize your potential. 

I deserve this job -

Something in Jon’s mind flared, a hot poker rammed behind his eye sockets. Jon hissed, one hand reaching unconsciously to his temple, and Annabelle glanced at him in alarm. She had - Jon had been thinking about her, and - what had he been -

Together, they managed to wrangle the meeting into something half-way productive. Most importantly, Basira had gotten three of her proposals passed, and Agnes’ arguments were stirring the other Avatars into serious discussion. Conversation itself would be stilted by his sheer presence, and they weren’t quite all working together yet, but they would. 

It was really all the same to Jon if the Avatars or humans won the war. He should care a bit more than he did, so he didn’t vocalize this to the others. But this conflict sparked life, a strange and frantic energy. Experiences and growth. That was what Jon had always fed on.

It seemed that Jon’s skill at prioritizing himself over all others was as sharp as ever.

Eventually the two hours wrapped up, and the other Avatars were eager to leave. Jon waved them off cheerily. 

“Meeting adjourned. Try not to do anything stupid until next time. And if any of you break the boundaries of the human safe zones, I’ll know! Annabelle, will you stay behind?”

The others filtered out quickly, uncharacteristically unwilling to see whatever carnage would be wrought. Agnes and Basira lingered. 

“That went so well!” Agnes shouted, the minute the last Avatar left. The room was now empty save for Agnes, Basira, Annabelle, and - Oliver, who was leaning against the doorframe. “I can’t believe you actually did something useful!”

“Ouch,” Oliver said. 

It was fair, though. Jon smiled weakly at her. “Hopefully I can help out a little more often going forward. But I’m not going to give any favoritism to you, Agnes. I’ll intervene to give humans a fair shot, but I really don’t want to be...king of a ruined world or whatever.”

“I know,” Agnes said firmly. She reached out and squeezed his arm, round and gentle face creased in determination. “You’d be terrible at it. So just be you, okay?”

Jon saluted her, before gesturing to the door. “Will you steal a historical British artifact from this garbage building for me? Daisy needs more targets to shoot.”

Agnes nodded eagerly and ran off. Jon silently hoped Basira would follow her, if also out of interest for also seeing British things destroyed, but she just looked at Jon intensely instead. Not quite a glare - just a searching, intense look, as if she was finding her own Statement from deep within him. It had always been disconcerting. Jon was still convinced she hated him.

“It’s not as if I knew you very well before we rescued you from the Panopticon,” Basira said crisply, pressing a folder to her chest, “but you’ve changed. What happened? What did Annabelle have to do with it?”

Jon and Annabelle glanced at each other. Oliver lifted an eyebrow. 

“Basira -”

“Don’t ask me to trust you.”

“I didn’t betray that,” Jon asked, “did I?”

Her expression didn’t soften. “You didn’t. We’re going to continue needing your help. But an ally with inscrutable motivations who does everything on a whim is a bad ally to have.”

“I’m trying, Basira,” Jon said, impossibly exhausted and just a little disappointed. “Please be patient.”

“I’ve been patient for three years,” Basira said, before forcibly cutting herself short from whatever emotion she was about to display. “What happened?”

A phantom pain pieced Jon’s arms, like chains threaded through bone. Jon fought the urge to wince, unconsciously reaching up to rub at a spot on his forearm. Everyone noticed. “It’s...family business…”

“Did you kill Jonah Magnus?”

“Jonah Magnus killed me,” Jon snapped, far louder than he intended, “so he would have deserved it, wouldn’t he!”

He felt a little lightheaded, more than he intended. It felt like a hand was clenching inside his chest, more than he wanted. No, Basira is fragile, you can’t just - no, Agnes is a kid, Daisy said that we can’t -

“Basira Hussain,” Annabelle said, hands folded tightly in her lap, eyes serious and intent. Jon started, surprised to hear her speak again. “You should go catch up with Agnes.”

Basira stared at Annabelle for a long moment, lips thin, before she abruptly whirled on her heel and stalked out. Jon watched her go, exhausted. He waited for her heels to click down the hall, far away enough that he knew she wasn’t eavesdropping, before groaning and dropping his head down onto his desk. 

“They hate me.”

“They’re scared of you,” Annabelle pointed out. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Frankly, Basira could stand to be a little more afraid of you. She’s going to get herself in trouble one of these days.”

“She’s practically my sister in law, I’m not going to hurt her,” Jon snapped. “Your stupid plan relied on me never hurting people I love.”

 “Sorry,” Oliver said pleasantly, “is anyone ever going to tell me what’s going on? I feel like an NPC in Jon’s Dungeons & Dragons game.”

“You want to be an NPC, I found you working at Taco Bell.” God, whatever. Jon could tell Oliver. He wouldn’t give a shit. Jon sighed, lifting his head to twist around and look at Oliver instead. “You remember when I was asking around after Sasha James? Annabelle had put me up to it.”

“Obviously. And then Sasha James started following you around? You terrorized Annabelle’s party again?”

“Yeah, it was this whole big thing.” Jon waved a hand expressively. “Anyway, then Annabelle tried to trap me in an eternal limbo that would shred me from inside out so I could act as purveyor of the world, and probably also use her connection with me so she could take over affairs here, and probably either nudge me into shaping the world back into order or into sinking it deeper into hell. I broke out and now I’m mad at her.”

“I had at least twenty other reasons,” Annabelle said, “but that’s the gist.”

Oliver stared at them.

They all sat in awkward silence. Jon found himself winding a finger around a stray coil of  hair and letting it spring back into place. He had kept it the same the last three years, never bothering to change the style. A loose and bouncy cloud of hair, sometimes brushing against his shoulders until Annabelle kidnapped him to cut it again - him, as much as the trenchcoat was. So much as anything had ever been ‘him’. 

“Well,” Oliver said diplomatically, “I see that you skipped a lot of steps there. So why are you here, then?”

Was it just to spite Annabelle? Screw her out of her work? Did Jon genuinely care? Did he want to organize the other Avatars, get them mobilized and going? Did he want to protect the humans? 

Did he really only care about himself, and the people he called his friends and family? Did he really only care about himself, and those he possessed?

“There’s a person I want to be,” Jon said quietly, “but I don’t know how to be him.”

Annabelle stared at him, with dark and glittering eyes, expression as implacable as always. For a sudden, stupid, intense moment, Jon wanted to know if she cared about him. If one of the few people who had always helped him, who was always in his corner, had seen him as anything more than a tool. 

Like Basira, who didn’t like him as a person, but found him too valuable to alienate. But Basira was - she was deeply good, if not always kind, and Jon had the sense that she had fought to turn herself into that good person. It was something she chose. She was trying to push Jon into making that same choice. 

Jon clenched his hands in his lap, his fingernails digging into his palm. “There’s people I respect, and who I want to respect me. This person I want to be...I’m worried that I only want this because that’s what they want. They’ll deny it, but they want my power. Everybody just makes me into whoever they want. Whatever’s useful to them.” Jon’s gaze snapped to Annabelle, and he fought hard to keep the compulsion from his voice. It was difficult, when he wanted to know so badly, but - “The kind of person I used to be. That person I’m ashamed of. Is that the person who was useful to you?”

He didn’t want to force the answer from her. He wanted her to choose to say it. 

Annabelle didn’t react. She didn’t show anything on her face. Much less what Jon wanted from her. She just tilted her head, one of the few unafraid to meet his eyes. “I never made you be anyone, Jon. All I ever did was put you in the right place at the right time.”

“That wasn’t my question,” Jon said, and this time he couldn’t help the static creeping into his voice. “Answer me.”

Annabelle sighed. “Of course it was useful. Is that what you wanted me to voluntarily say, Jon? I didn’t bring you to the first meeting because I thought it would be educational for you. I needed your power to keep the others in line. I needed everyone else to see that I controlled your power. That’s the only reason why any of this worked. We both got something out of it. Don’t pretend that you weren’t happy with the arrangement.”

It...it wasn’t a surprise, but…

“So that’s why you didn’t bring him to any of the other meetings,” Oliver mused. “He wasn’t as controllable as you liked, not when there’s more than ten other idiots around needling him. There’s never been anybody who can always predict when Jon’s going to lose his shit. Besides the biggie, I guess.”

The biggie, which was his past. 

No wonder he had stayed so childlike, innocent, and cruel for so long. Jon took responsibility for his own laziness, but - but he had been most useful that way. Annabelle had liked him best that way.

Daisy had liked him best that way too. That cruel child - Daisy had wanted him, because he made her feel needed. Annabelle was just the same.

Everyone had liked him best that way. And if Jon became the kind of person who he wanted to be, nobody would like him at all.

“If you’re going to kill me,” Annabelle said, exhaustion seeping in through her voice, “just do it.”

Jon closed his eyes. He could feel it - Annabelle’s exhaustion, the way that she had just been waiting for him to do this. Everything she knew about Jon led towards an obvious course of action. Even though you nobody knew everything that set Jon off, certain things were pretty guaranteed that he wouldn’t forgive. 

Annabelle had never accounted for Sasha. She had brought Sasha into his life, and she had no idea the effect she would have on it. Sasha, who had been the first to tell Jon that she chose to care about him for him. For a brief, hot flash, Jon was jealous. He wanted to be someone unpredictably kind. 

If he only wanted that because he had found yet another person to give his wind-up key, then…

“You won, Annabelle,” Jon said finally, and he only knew it as he said it. “Congratulations. You played the perfect manipulation. You took a vulnerable, afraid man, who had been violated in the worst possible way and left to die.” He stood up, already uncomfortable with what he was about to say. “And you arranged him so that he loved you. I chose to love you. I’m making the choice never to hurt you, because I still love you. ”

He left the room. Oliver stood aside just in time, letting Jon brush by. 

As Jon met up with Agnes and Basira, summoning a smile and a wave for them, he felt uncomfortably as if he had grown up. 

He wasn’t sure that he liked it.

#tma #the magnus archives #my writing #tma fanfic #jonathan sims #annabelle cane #oliver banks #basira hussain #agnes montague #and a ton more #tcf was about deciding to change #and this story kind of hits at how difficult it is deciding who to change into #and how difficult it is to trust your own decisions when you've been manipulated since the second you were 'born' #jon and his choices and agency is becoming a big thing for me!

[secret-engima]

What about a child of Qrow that he didn’t know about? Mags other parent didn’t exactly ask him for the spelling of his name during the 3 day relationship (while he was trying to drink away some horrible event-aka he was on a bender and they decided to sleep with the drunken hunter for some reason. Maybe because hanging with him got free drinks on his tab) so thought “Crow” was a pseudonym but wanted to honour the child’s other parent in some way. Mags definitely inherited her fathers shapeshifter blessing though

Okay so uh. By the time I saw this ask (and the other one you sent) I had already taken the idea of Magpie Branwen and run with it so hard? But I would love to incorporate some bits of this ask into her backstory so I shall.

Also she’s now part of Team Gremlin verse. Because what is impulse control.

ANYWAY. Yes, Mags mom didn’t bother to ask him for the spelling of his name during their 3 day fling and Qrow and her slept together because they’re both alcoholics that decided it would be a fun time. After she realized she was pregnant she just kinda- shrugged and said “okay” and named her Magpie in “honor” of the other parent.

Maggie has her father’s shapeshifter blessing, which should be impossible since Yang didn’t inherit Raven’s but who cares I think it’s funny. She turns into a Willy Wagtail. Because that way I get to do that meme picture I reblogged a few days ago of the Willy Wagtail harassing a raven (or Crow, as the case will be XP).

Maggie is also a Faunus! Well. Half-Faunus. She’s human-passing, and her Faunus trait is *insert spiderman theme*, the teeny hooks or whatever in her hands and feet that let her stick to and climb walls.

Her mom is a terrible mom tbh. Very absent. She literally just- had Magpie, signed the certificate, and then dropped her off at Menagerie to be cared for by her OTHER daughter and Maggie’s full blooded Faunus half-sister Trifa.

You know. The spider Faunus in canon.

Who’s a member of Adam’s White Fang.

And was fanatical enough in his cause to willingly join in on the Belladonna assassination attempt.

Everybody guess how well she, an impressionable preteen already being indoctrinated by the more violent corners of the White Fang (cause we know from Blake they did have child members), took to having an *illegitimate half human half-sister* that has no “noticeable” Faunus trait and took quite a few years to manifest her spider climbing trait.

Anywho yes, I have now claimed Magpie Branwen and shall be using her for plot and shipping purposes in Team Gremlin verse >:D. She has a few other things to her, like her Semblance and some other parts of her backstory, but for now I’ll keep those under my hat.

#SE asks #lightsaberwieldingdalek asks #Secret Engima Rambles #Team Gremlin verse #mags the magpie