#and had to figure out how the flee function worked in a hurry

[starfish-comics]

I got a bit excited to try out every possible use of my teleportation gloves and it led to some trouble.

#turns out just because you can teleport somewhere doesn't mean you should #i tried to use them to get inside the actual fort in fort joy #and got myself into a fight that I was NOT ready for #and had to figure out how the flee function worked in a hurry #divinity #divinity original sin 2 #dos2 #comics #sebille

[ragingbookdragon]

And I Will Still Be Here Stargazing

Batsis x Batfamily Story

Word Count: 1.6K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: I shouldn't be allowed to make new stories when I've already got WIP's to do. Oh well, HERE'S ANOTHER STORY! -Thorne

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She glanced through the telescope once more, scanning the expanse of the night sky before her. Giddiness ran through her at the thought of seeing the supposed comet coming back around. Apparently, it was one that hadn’t been seen in two hundred years. It’d taken almost two whole days to convince her dad to let her go out on her own in the field three miles out of town.

Of course, that convincing came with a massive surprise—not—of taking a tracker with her just in case—being the only non-vigilante in her family did make her vulnerable to trouble, but most of their enemies wanted nothing to do with her, so she figured she was alright.

Pulling away from the scope, she felt her phone buzz in her pocket, and she sighed as she answered it, putting it to her ear. “Dad, I already told you, I’m fine.”

You weren’t answering your brothers’ texts. They were worried.

“Oh, for the love of—dad, I’m twenty-one. I shouldn’t have to check in every five freakin’ minutes.”

We worry about you, (Y/N).

“I know,” she griped. “C’mon, one night where I can actually be treated like I have a functioning brain inside my skull. Let me have it.” She glanced up again, seeing something streak across the sky. “Oh, there it is!” (Y/N) grinned. “I gotta go dad! I love you!”

Wait, (Y/N)—

Hanging up, she stowed the phone in her pocket before looking into the glass. “Oh wow,” she breathed. “It’s so beautiful…and big.” (Y/N) hummed and pulled back slightly. “Really, really big. Almost like it’s…coming to earth.”

She took a step back when she realized that was exactly what was happening. The comet, or whatever it was, was barreling towards the field near her and she gasped, taking another step back. Her foot slipped in the mud, and she fell, but the thought of being obliterated made her scramble to her feet and run as fast as she could away from it and while she wasn’t sure she’d outrun the devastation, she was going to try.

That being said, whatever it was, hit the ground with a thundering explosion, sending dirt and gravel flying, along with her and she screamed as she was thrown to the ground. (Y/N) covered her head, crying in pain as debris scraped her arms and legs, but she stayed still until the world calmed around her.

When it did, she peeked through her arms and gaped at the destruction around her. Trees had been blown from their roots and in the middle of where her telescope had once been, was something smoking inside a hollowed dip in the ground, dirt and rocks thrown away.

(Y/N) shakily got to her feet and crept closer, terrified that she was going to find some horror movie come alive. Alien and Predator stuck in the back of her mind and part of her wanted to flee. The other part—and curse her Wayne curiosity—wanted to know what it was.

“Hello?” she whispered as she neared the rim of the crater, peering in. A groan sounded and she gasped, pulling away before she took another glance and she saw a woman. At least it looked like a woman.

Her body was unlike anything familiar to (Y/N), in the form of an average woman, but she had no skin. Instead, her body looked like the night sky, swirling pools of stars and dark matter, and her hair was long and white, shimmering like glitter. Her hips and wrists were plated with some type of metal, gold and inlaid with what looked like diamonds.

(Y/N) slid down the side of the crater against her better judgement, nearing the woman carefully. “Hello?” she called again. “Are you alright?” The woman groaned and rolled onto her back, eyes opening at her. She gasped at the white eyes, like stars.

“Help,” she weakly moaned.

Hurrying over, she knelt beside the woman. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” She reached out to touch the woman but stilled when she felt the warmth radiating off her body.

“Please…help me,” she begged. “They’re…coming.”

(Y/N) shook her head and took the woman’s hand; it made her skin tingle. “Who’s coming?”

“The Insentients,” the woman said. “They’re coming in a years’ time.”

“I…I don’t understand,” she replied. “What are Insentients?”

“Terrible creatures that destroy life.” The woman grasped her hand. “I am Astra, Queen of the Stars. And you must help me.” (Y/N) couldn’t believe a thing she was hearing, simply gaping at her. “I have battled the Insentients for billions of years, but I am at my end.” She squeezed tightly, reaching up to cup (Y/N)’s cheek, white eyes widening. “You must take my place as queen and protect the life of this galaxy.”

She couldn’t even form words, mouth opening and closing like a fish and all she could muster was, “I’m sorry? What?”

Astra coughed and something splattered on (Y/N)’s clothes before fading from sight. “Please, you must do this or life as you know it will cease in one year. Take my place.”

“But I’m—I’m not some alien queen! I’m a human!” She spluttered. “What do I even do?!”

The queen sighed tiredly. “Child, nothing will stop the Insentients unless you help. They will destroy all in their path.”

(Y/N) shook her head and happened to glance towards the sky. “The stars,” she breathed. “They’re so…dull.”

“My life is fading…so they are too.” Astra whispered. “They will die.”

“What?!” she shouted. “But the sun?! It’ll go out!”

“Yes.” The queen murmured.

Bewildered, she asked, “What can I do?”

Astra gazed at her. “Take my power. Be reborn as the Queen of the Stars.”

“How do I?” She questioned and Astra took (Y/N)’s hands, placing them on her chest.

“Grasp my heart.”

“Grasp your what?” she repeated.

“My heart.” The woman’s chest opened, and she stared in surprise as a small, but brilliant light came into view. “Bring it to your own.”

“I better not die,” (Y/N) deadpanned as she cupped the light carefully. Her fingers tingled like she was being shocked, and she swallowed thickly as she brought it up to her chest, just above her heart. “What now?” she asked, and Astra’s form began to fade, starting at her feet.

“Your body will absorb all that I am…all that I…have been.” She smiled. “Place it within your chest.”

“That’s not possible.” (Y/N) retorted, though she moved her hands against her chest. “My body can’t just absorb—holy shit it’s working,” she blurted, and she went still as her something jolted her spine, all the way up her spinal cord to her brain.

Her jaw went slack as he eyes widened, head tipping back to stare at the sky above her. Memories flashed across her vision, faster than she could keep track of and then her mind felt like it was imploding. She let out a strangled gasp and tipped backwards, fatigue overcoming her. The last thing she remembered was Astra’s eyes and her smile before she disappeared from sight and (Y/N) descended into darkness.

***

When she came to, all she could think about was the pounding headache in her skull and the lack of memory the night before. (Y/N) sat up and looked around. The sun was high in the sky and her telescope was sitting neatly where it had been. She blinked, feeling as though she’d forgotten something important. When she couldn’t remember, she shrugged and got to her feet, beginning to take the scope apart and put it away.

(Y/N) rolled the sleeping bag up and put it in the tote, carrying both back towards the side of the road. Her butler should’ve been around to pick her up but when she didn’t see him, she frowned. Huh…I thought Alfie was coming to pick me up? Blinking in confusion, she patted her pocket for her phone and pulled it out, though her eyes went wide when she saw the shattered screen and burnt phone.

“What the hell?” she questioned. “What happened to my phone?” It looked like it’d been blown up. Now she was really confused. What the hell happened last night? (Y/N) sighed heavily and shoved the phone in her pocket. “I guess I’m walking then.” She grunted and heaved the telescope and sleeping bag over her shoulders, starting back towards the city in the distance.

***

GCPD was the first important building she came upon and as tired as she was, she knew they’d let her use one of their phones to call home. (Y/N) lethargically wandered into the department, stopping near the counter.

“Excuse me, can I use your phone?”

The man at the counter looked up and suddenly shot to his feet. “(Y/N) Wayne!” he shouted, and she blinked.

“Uh…yeah, that’s me?”

He rubbed his eyes. “Holy shit, you’re here.” Gesturing to her, he added “Wait right there! Don’t move!”

“Wait, but I—” the man sprinted off and she sighed. “Great. Probably going to get everyone so we can do pictures.”

Next thing she knew, Commissioner Gordon was running into the entry way. “Miss Wayne!”

(Y/N) looked at him. “Yes sir. That’s me.” She pointed to the phone at the desk. “I was wondering if I could use the phone to call home? Mine’s…busted.”

He reached out, grasping her arms. “Are you hurt? We should get you checked out immediately.”

“I’m fine?” she answered confusedly. “What’s going on? Why is everyone panicking?”

Gordon gaped at her. “You don’t know what’s going on?” she shook her head. “(Y/N), you’ve been missing for an entire week.”

#batfamily x reader #batfamily x reader imagines #batfamily x reader imagine #batfamily imagines #batfamily imagine #batfamily #batfamily x batsis #batfamily x batsis imagines #batfamily x batsis imagine #batsis x batfam #batsis x batfamily #batsis x batfamily imagines #batsis x batfamily imagine #batsis imagines #batsis imagine #batsis #bruce wayne #batman #dc comics #dc imagines #dc imagine #dc

[wicked-mind]

Betrayed: Chapter Four

Summary: Everybody thought Steve’s sister had passed away decades ago. But when you show up at the facility and try to attack Bucky, there are questions to be answered.

Word count: 5.5k

Warning: A bit of violence, talk of kidnapping and torture, talk of surgery, a hint of PTSD

Series Masterlist

All Writings Masterlist

NOTE: I would like to thank everybody for your support. As I previously said, this is the first time posting creative writing on any platform. As a thank you, I’ll be releasing two chapters today (3/19/21). Again, any feedback is appreciated. Enjoy (:

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Chapter Four- I Guess We Can Be Friends

The rest of the team returned finally. A smile returned to Y/N’s face after seeing her brother and Wanda after the week. Steve made sure to get a run down of everything that happened in his absence from Clint and Bucky. Hearing of her nightmares, the voice she heard, and the progress her and Bucky had made. Steve and Bucky both exchanged the word ‘progress’ again with a smile. The chip they had recovered was protected, they couldn’t access the information on it right away, having to do some deep digging.

Steve found his sister chatting with Wanda, filling her in on everything that had happened. Y/N talked to Wanda about her nightmares and how Bucky was the one who woke her from them. She told her friend about how she heard the voice in her head, to which Wanda looked concerned. With Y/N’s permission, she could look to see if there was something else in her head, but she would wait for that until Y/N was ready for that. Steve entered the room with a light knock, smiling at Y/N.

“I’m all caught up on things that happened while we were away.” Steve told his sister, with a small comforting smile, “We recovered your chip still in tact. We are trying to get into it the information on it.”

Y/N nods, then looks at Wanda, “I need you to do it. Look in my mind and see if there is someone else.” She said, to which Steve and Wanda both looked shocked, “Please Wanda, I can’t sit here and wait to see if he starts whispering again. I have to know if it is real or if it’s me slowly going insane.” She whispered the last part.

“Don’t you think we should wait for a little bit? At least until we see the information on the chip?” Steve asked, concern in his voice. He didn’t want to push his sister into anything that could more damage her fragile state.

Y/N looked from her brother to Wanda, nodding, “Do it.” She demanded.

They gathered in the medical bay, allowing Y/N to lay on one of the beds. Wanda positioned herself behind her friend’s head, looking to her for permission. Y/N nodded and closed her eyes. The whole team watched closely, besides Natasha who had already left to go to the prison. Bucky and Steve had concerned looks on their face about this. Wanda positioned her hands on either side of Y/N’s head, red glowing from her fingers. For a moment, it was silent as Wanda searched, before she drops her hand, looking up to Steve with wide eyes, “There’s someone in there.. I can’t tell who but he is definitely the cause of the whispers. It’s has the same energy as Y/N, but it’s darker, stronger.” Wanda said gently, then looking at Y/N’s face. For a moment, Y/N looked relieved that she wasn’t going insane or being haunted by ghosts. But then worry came across her face as she realized something else was pulling strings in her head.

Bucky shifted uncomfortably on his feet, feeling useless. He couldn’t protect Y/N from the voice in her mind. He had the instincts to protect Y/N from anything and everything. He was determined to find this owner of this voice in her head, make it stop.

“We will wait to see what Natasha figures out.” Steve broke the silence, walking over and helping his sister up from the table. He looked down at her and offered a smile, to which one was returned up to him.

When Natasha was able to get into the information on the chip, she gathered the team to share her findings. She waited for them all to be seated around the circular table before beginning, “The chip showed what Y/N told us. It was used to send direct orders to her no matter where she was in the world. We are still working on downloading the information of where she went and what she did.” Natasha paused, “It also had a second function. It was blocking out some other transmission to her brain. I would guess it was keeping away the whispers that Y/N is now hearing. We aren’t sure what is causing the whispers or why it was important for Hydra to keep them out.” She paused, before looking at the rest of the team, “We don’t know how dangerous these whispers are. There was a reason Hydra wanted them blocked out. They could pose an immediate threat. The safest option would be to keep Y/N in the detention center until we know more.”

Y/N had snuck to listen outside the room. She was very quiet, and could get away very quickly if necessary. She, after all, was trained for things like sneaking around and gathering information without being seen, among other things.

The room fell silent as the team processed what Natasha was proposing to them, “We can’t do that to her.” Steve told the team, “She hasn’t been a threat to any of us since the first night. If we put her in one of the detention cells, it’ll show we don’t trust her and think she’s dangerous. Y/N is just trying to get back on her feet. She doesn’t want to hurt any of us.”

“I don’t trust her. That’s the issue.” Natasha countered, “If those whispers are dangerous, she can snap at anytime and turn on any of us. If she bites one of us and flees, that’s the end of it. Someone will die. We have to take necessary precautions.”

Bucky glared at Natasha for this idea, his jaw clenched, “You can’t do that to Y/N.” He repeated Steve’s words, “She dug herself out of a grave she was meant to stay in, took the chip out, and found us for help. She just wanted to see her brother again.” He said, “She attacked me for a reason. I have forgiven her. She’s not a threat unless we treat her like one or give her a reason to feel threatened.” He paused, taking in a deep breath, eyeing everybody else in the meeting, “If we force her into a cell, we are no better than how Hydra forced her into that coffin. She will break down as it reminds her of the things she went through. You break that trust, we won’t get it back. Any of us.” He said, looking to Steve, then Clint, and to Wanda who was nodding her head in agreement.

Wanda cleared her throat before speaking, drawing the attention to herself, “Y/N is not a current threat to anybody. I’ve seen in her mind, but more importantly I’ve spent almost every day with her. She just wants to live and be happy. Her mind is full of good. She’s a good person of which horrific things have happened to. Y/N doesn’t deserve to be punished for something she hasn’t done yet. I can keep an eye on her mental state, let us have an early warning if the whispers come back stronger.” Wanda watched the others as they slowly nodded in agreement to what she was saying.

“I have part of a solution.” Clint finally spoke, his arms crossed as he sat in his chair leaning back, “She doesn’t pose a threat now. I’ve trained with her more than anybody, she knows how to hold back. She has self control. But, just in case, why don’t we keep some of her blood in stock in case she does snap and bites one of us?”

Steve nodded, “I think that’s the best idea. We will get her to donate some blood to us for emergencies. She will understand and want to help. She doesn’t want to hurt any of us, she will want us to have the cure.” He looked at Bucky for a moment, before looking to Natasha who shook her head, knowing she was out numbered, “For now, we keep an eye on her. Help her. If something happens, we will discuss it.” He said in a tone that everybody knew meant the conversation about locking Y/N away was over. He sighs, slowly standing, “On another note, the annual fundraising gala is tomorrow. Everybody pick a charity of your choice before the party.” Natasha folded her arms, looking at Steve, “You really think the gala is the best idea right now?”

“Of course. We have been walking on eggshells for six months, putting all our focus on unraveling this mystery. We need a break. Thor is already coming in, and the guests have already sent in their RSVP. They’re expecting it. ” He said, knowing he was just irritating and pushing the limits with Nat, who had now exited the room in a hurry, “I guess that concludes our meeting.”

Y/N listened, she took a deep breath, then started chewing on her bottom lip. When they started speaking of the gala, she left. She knew when her brother used that tone it was end of discussion with her situation. She swiftly made it back to her room, sitting on her bed, pulling a magazine onto her lap. She just flicked the pages, not reading it at all. She was thinking about what was said in the team’s discussion. What Natasha said, about locking her away. Maybe that was for the best, she didn’t want to be a threat. She didn’t want to hurt anyone else. But listening to what Steve and Bucky said, they were right. The way Bucky talked about how she would break, he was right. She couldn’t keep herself under control if she was locked away, isolated. It would just be more proof that she was who she thought she was, a hopeless killer.

Y/N heard Wanda approaching and focused back on reading the magazine. Wanda came in beaming with a smile, “Up, up, up, get up!” She said, pulling Y/N by her hands to her feet.

Y/N smiled and laughed, letting her pull her to her feet, “What are we doing now?” She asked, happy to have a best friend like Wanda. She brought joy into Y/N’s life, someone she can be herself around.

“We are going shopping, where’s your shoes?” Wanda said as she searched around the room before throwing the black combat boots at Y/N, how caught them with ease, “The gala is tomorrow and we need to find some dresses.”

Y/N put her shoes on quickly, excited to go out and spend the day with Wanda shopping. She hadn’t got to leave the facility that much, she was excited to see what the world offered her today. Plus it would be nice to get her mind off of what she learned listening to the meeting.The two walked out the front of the facility, Wanda spinning the car keys in her hand. Y/N looked back at the facility, seeing Natasha watching her through the window, before getting in the black BMW with Wanda, “What’s Nat’s issue today?” She asked, curious of what the reply would be.

Wanda waved her hand as if to say forget about it, “Oh don’t worry, that’s just her face. She has RBF. Some days it flares up more than others.” She joked, putting the key in the ignition and speeding down the driveway towards town. On their dress mission, they talked about things. Wanda asked Y/N to tell her if she started hearing whispers again, that it was very important to let her know to which Y/N nodded, promising her best friend. Then they talked about something Wanda always wanted to talk about. Bucky. Wanda knew Y/N’s feelings about him, the good and the bad ones. Lately the better ones have been taking over and replacing those bad memories. Wanda was determined to help replace those memories, for Y/N’s sake and Bucky’s. She knew Bucky still had strong feelings for Y/N, it was hard not to keep out his thoughts when they screamed so loudly for Y/N. And she also knew that Y/N still had those lovey-dovey feelings for Bucky, just maybe a litter deeper down.

THE NEXT NIGHT

Wanda was helping Y/N get ready for the gala, already done getting herself ready. This was Wanda’s favorite event the team held. They got to dress up all fancy and let loose in their own home. There was no shop talk, just fun. Wanda slowly ran the curling iron through Y/N’s blonde hair, curling the ends perfectly so they would bounce as she walked. Wanda was already dressed and ready. As she finished up Y/N’s hair, she smiled, placing the curling iron down, “Don’t touch that.” She warns, not wanting her friend to get burned. Y/N nodded, looking at herself in the mirror. She was all dolled up for this event.

Wanda smiled, putting on her heels, “I’ll meet you out there.” She said, heading for the door, before looking back at Y/N who was still looking at herself in the mirror, “C’mon Y/N, get dressed. Chop chop!” She said and then disappeared out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Y/N tore her eyes away from herself. Her eyelashes were darkened with mascara and her lips were red from a lipstick she borrowed from Wanda. She looked very similar to how she did when she was taken by Bucky. She had curled her hair, put on red lipstick, excited to meet him for their date that never happened. The memory was painful, but she thought about the things Bucky had done for her. He was patient, kind. He helped her through break-downs. He said all the right things. He was being the Bucky she remembered and wanted. She decided she would be open to giving him another chance, being more accepting of him. The only way she would know for sure is if she let him in a little bit. She slowly stood, walking over to the closet and pulling her dress out. Wanda had helped pick it out. Y/N was a little reluctant, the style of dresses had changed since the last time she had worn one. When did they become so revealing? Y/N slipped off the robe she was wearing to get ready, placing it on her bed. She slipped the black dress on. It fit her curves perfectly, although maybe a little tight, “God how do people breathe in these.” She said, flattening out the scrunched lines as she walked in front of the mirror. The dress was jet black, flowing to the floor. There was a slit up the side to show off her pale leg, a little too high if you asked Y/N but Wanda assured her it was the style. It had sleeves that draped over her arms, a small dip in the front but not too revealing. She lifted her hand to her shoulders, her fingers brushing against the silver scars from a past life. She didn’t remember how she got the ones that looked like bites, but there were many of them that were hidden by the view of this dress. She slipped on her black heels, wishing she could just wear her boots. But Y/N knew Wanda would just drag her back to the room to put the shoes on. Y/N gave herself one final glance in the mirror. The dress was beautiful, she was beautiful. Even with the red eyes that seemed to glow. She turned and made her way out of her room and to where the party was being held.

As she entered, Wanda immediately was at her side, handing her a glass of dark wine which Y/N accepted immediately, taking a small sip. The lounge was decorated beautifully and filled with people who were all dressed up also. Steve was sitting at the bar with Bucky and Sam, laughing. He noticed his sister’s arrival and quickly walked over to greet her.

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” Steve said, giving her a quick hug, “I’m glad you decided to come. It’ll be fun.” He promised.

“Yeah I didn’t get to really decide.” Y/N laughed, looking at Wanda, “I’m pretty sure she would’ve dragged me down here, I figured it was easier to come willingly.”

Steve chuckled, giving Wanda a thankful smile, “It’ll be great, don’t worry about anything. Tonight is all about fun.” He said, placing an encouraging hand on his sister’s shoulder, before getting pulled away by some men who seemed excited to have a conversation with the Captain America. Steve figured a Y/N needed some fun. It had been all serious since she came back that she hasn’t really gotten to live.

Y/N and Wanda walked around, introducing themselves to guests and sharing stories. Well, Wanda was doing the sharing. Y/N didn’t have any stories to share, just listened and laughed as she met all the new people. All of them were very nice, and not too intrusive.

Bucky had noticed Y/N as soon as she walked in. He about spit up his drink by how beautiful she looked. He wondered if this is what she would’ve looked like for their date that never happened. It made his heart jump thinking about it. He watched Steve go up to her, a little jealous that he was just able to approach her so easily. He watched her throughout the night, staying at the bar. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. Y/N was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. He watched her laugh, envying the wine glass she kept bringing to her lips. It reminded him of the one kiss they shared. He cherished that memory of them. Her lips were so soft against his. He wanted that feeling again but knew it was out of his grasp.

At some point, Bucky lost track of Y/N in the crowd. His eyes scanned all the faces in the room, looking for her. He stood up when he saw she wasn’t with Wanda. They had been together the whole night, but now they weren’t. He pushed through people, apologizing and saying excuse me as he searched for Y/N, before turning to look out a window. She was standing out on the lawn alone, her head tilted up to the sky. He immediately made his way out there, wanting to make sure she was alright. He shut the door quietly and approached Y/N, smiling.

“Y/N?” He said, wanting to give her a heads up he was approaching, “Everything alright?” He asked as he stood beside her.

“Oh, hi. Yeah, sorry, I’m fine.” She said, looking over to him with her red eyes. She noted how handsome he looked. He was wearing an all black suit, his hands in his pockets. She returned her gaze up to the stars, a soft smile on her red lips, “Just needed some air. I got distracted by the stars. They’re beautiful.”

Bucky kept his eyes on her face, “Yeah.. Beautiful.” He said, not talking about the stars. He examined her face. She was smiling, and her expression was nothing but happiness. He loved seeing her like this- happy. It’s what she deserved.

Y/N looked back to Bucky, noticing he was still staring at her, knowing he wasn’t calling the stars beautiful. She turned towards him, her red eyes meeting his crystal blue ones. She smiled softly, her red lips curving, before she looked down at her almost empty glass of wine, “Buck…” She said softly, as if ashamed, “I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you. And… you know.. biting you,” She gestured towards the scar on his neck, biting her lip before continuing, “I know that wasn’t you. They were in your head like they were in mine.” She was just now realizing it had been god knows how long since she drank and she may be a little tipsy.

Bucky shook his head at her apology, his hand leaving his pocket as he touched her arm, “Hey, don’t. It’s fine. Your last memory of me was taking you to them. I understand. I probably would’ve had the same reaction. It hasn’t changed the way I see or feel about you, darling. I know who you are. You don’t have to apologize for your trauma.” He said softly, smiling at her.

Y/N lifted her head again to meet his gaze. His skin on hers felt almost electric. It made her skin crawl, her hairs standing up. She nodded, her eyes looking around Bucky, anywhere but his face. Hearing him call her ‘darling’ made her body feel warm. She felt like her heart was racing. She finally looked at his face. She could tell he had just cut his hair recently, probably to look nice for the gala. He looked just like the Bucky she knew. When she arrived his hair was longer, but now his hair was shorter, those blue eyes watching her, a small grin on his face. She took a small step towards him, “Since all is forgiven…” Y/N said, her eyes keeping contact with his, “I suppose that means we can be friends.”

Bucky’s grin only widened as she took a step towards him, his eyes never leaving her face. He was observing every move she made. Everything about her was extraordinary. As she spoke the words he had long waited for her to say, he felt as if a weight had been taken off his shoulders, “I would love that.” He replied, “That means we can do friend stuff, right?” He said, talking a small step closer to her, his hand still on her arm, “Like go for coffee, watch movies, have dinner sometime?” He said softly, hoping he wasn’t overstepping with her.

“Hot chocolate,” She corrected, “Not coffee.” She smiles, her eyes watching his as he stepped closer, she bit her lip slightly, her focus moving from his eyes to his lips.

Bucky chuckled at her response, “Hot chocolate with caramel.” He responded, remembering it was her favorite. He knew she didn’t like coffee, but she loved hot chocolate. He was locked onto her eyes that looked at him from underneath her long, dark lashes. He looked at her lips for a moment, wondering if he should move in closer. He felt as if she was giving him all the signals, even flirting back with him. She hadn’t denied him. He leans his face in closer to hers slowly, watching for any reaction, which to his surprise didn’t come.

Instead, a different surprise happened. A flash of light separated the two quickly. When the light faded, Y/N noticed a circle emblem on the ground, but then noticed the man standing in the middle of it. He had short blonde hair, was tall and muscular. He held a large axe in his hand.

“Great timing, Thor. Good to see ya. You’re late.” Bucky said, obviously a little annoyed that the moment between Y/N and himself was ruined.

“Barnes! Good to see you.” Thor replied, placing a pat on Bucky’s back. He was smiling ear to ear, obviously excited about the event, “Who’s your friend?” He said turning to Y/N.

Y/N smiled, “Y/N Rogers.” She said, her red eyes studying him. She had read about him and heard all the stories.

Thor looked at Y/N confused for a moment, “Steve got married? I wasn’t invited?” He said, almost hurt looking.

“No..” Both Y/N and Bucky said at the same time, both laughing a little bit, “I’m his sister.”

Thor looked relieved, before smiling, “Oh yeah, I see the resemblance now. Besides the red eyes, that’s extremely interesting.” He said, point at his own eyes as he talked about hers. Noticing he made her slightly uncomfortable with the comment, he continued, “Well, I better go in and say hello.” He said, walking passed the two and into the party.

Y/N looked back at Bucky, laughing a little at what just happened. It was a little awkward and embarrassing, but the timing was funny to her.

Bucky smiled as she laughed, “So uhm…” He chuckled out, watching her closely, “More wine?” He said, motioning towards the almost empty wine glass still in her hands.

Y/N shook her head, smiling, “Oh no, I’m good. It’s been forever since I’ve had a drink. Tonight I’m a one and done type of girl.” She said, nodding as she told herself this. She was already a little tipsy, she didn’t want to press her luck, “We should head back in though. My feet hurt and there’s some left over pasta in the fridge that’s calling my name.” She said, turning and starting to head back inside. Bucky followed her close behind, smiling to himself. She was treating him like a friend, maybe even more than a friend. She was talking to him like she had growing up. It was exciting to him. It reminded him of a simpler time. He followed her up the stairs to the kitchen in the living quarters, watching as she heated up her food in the microwave. Y/N grabbed a fork, turning to see him still there, “I’m gonna eat this in my room then go to bed.” She said, smiling a little.

Bucky nodded, “I’ll walk you.” He said, even though it was right down the hallway. He wanted to spend as much time as he could with her, just in case this was a dream he was going to wake up from soon. He joined her as they walked down the hall, stopping at her door and opening it for her.

Y/N slipped into the room and placed her food on the desk before turning back to Bucky who was still standing there like a dream, waiting for her. She approached him, smiling, “Thank you.” She said softly, She reached her hand out and touched his arm, still smiling up into his eyes, “Good night, Bucky.”

Bucky grinned at her touch, “Anytime, doll. Good night.” He said happily, accepting the fact this would be the end of their night together, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Tonight was perfect to him. He turned to return back to the party down the stairs. Nothing could bring him down tonight.

Y/N smiled at the pet name, giving his face once last glance, before shutting the door. She smiled to herself. She hadn’t felt like this in a long time. She felt undeniably happy. There was no negativity creeping in at all. She quickly kicked off the heels and changed out of her dress into some sweats and a tank top, hanging the dress back up in her closet. She grabbed her pasta and sat on her bed, turning on the tv. It didn’t take long for her to finish her food, placing the now empty food box in the trash before curling up in bed, falling asleep.

Thor had made his way around saying hello to everybody, before returning back to Steve who was now with Bucky at the bar, “You didn’t tell me you have a sister,” He said to Steve, holding a mug of beer in his hand.

“It never came up.” Steve said, smiling at his friend.

Thor shrugged, “Would’ve been nice to know. The red eyes are very interesting.” He mentioned, taking a large drink of her beer, “Is she otherworldly?”

Steve shook his head, “No, she was a Hydra experiment.” He informed, looking uncomfortable by this conversation.

Thor nodded, taking note of the buttons he seemed to be poking on Steve, “That’s unfortunate, I’m sorry.” He said, placing a comforting hand on Steve’s shoulder, “Oh, and sorry for ruining your moment.” He said to Bucky.

“Moment?” Steve asked, looking from Thor to Bucky, “There was a moment?”

Bucky said silent for a moment, before speaking, “It’s alright, Thor. Y/N and I were just talking.” He said.

Thor looked from Bucky to Steve, “Right… Talking. That’s definitely what I saw.” He said with a smile, “I think I need another.” He said as he looked at his now empty mug, before walking away.

Steve watched Thor leave, before looking around the gala, “Where is Y/N?” he said, realizing he hadn’t seen his sister in a while, and after hearing about the potential ‘moment’ he wanted to make sure she was alright.

“She went to bed, I walked her up.” Bucky said, to which Steve looked at him, eyebrows raised, “She said we could be friends again.” He informed, smiling slightly, though he didn’t get the reaction he was hoping for from his friend.

Steve nodded slightly, “Just friends.” He said. He was never thrilled about the idea of his best friend and sister growing closer. He was Y/N’s brother after all. He knew Bucky was a good man, but he still couldn’t think of them being anything more than friends, “I’ll head up there, be close just in case anything happens.”

“No, I’ll go. Don’t worry, I won’t disturb her.” Bucky said, standing from his seat at the bar, “Besides, you’re in charge of this party. Can’t be leaving. I’ll just sit down the hall until Wanda comes up.” He promised, to which Steve nodded almost reluctantly, still wondering what moment Thor had intruded on. Bucky turned and made his way back up the stairs. Keeping his promise to Steve, he sat outside Y/N’s door in the hallway. He could hear the tv on inside the room, listening as he tried to determine what she had been watching before she fell asleep. He concluded it must be a tv medical show of some sort. After about another hour, Wanda came through the hall, giving a smile towards Bucky with a nod as if to say she had it from here, before disappearing into the room. Bucky stood, watching the door close he caught a glimpse of Y/N sleeping soundly. He smiled, tucking his hands back in his pockets as he made his way back to his own room.

____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @vicmc624 @the-ayo-lit @daddysfavoritesexkitten @springsoulofengland @tcc-gizmachine @taina-eny @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #marvelfanfiction #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #bucky barnes imagine #becky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #marvelfanfic

[evolutionsvoid]

The frequent attacks from the beast known as "Vish'El" left the world in chaos. Despite all technology we had created, all the weaponry we built and hoarded, we were powerless to stop it. We let loose enough firepower to last three wars, but the creature hardly seemed to flinch. At times it would act like we hurt it, but then when we stopped to observe or swooped in to take advantage, it would let out that weird shout and send us all flying. Nothing marred its impenetrable skin, so all we could guess was that it was playing pretend in order to trick us. No clue why that is necessary, as it could carve through our armies in seconds without suffering a scratch. All we could do is keep running to the drawing board and try to think up of some new strategy or weapon that could take it out. Until we found its weakness, humanity just had to accept the fact that our cities were just open season to a sudden monster drop in. No surprise so many people fled to the countryside once they figured out their governments couldn't stop the thing. Everything became a nightmare, and we were all lost on what to do. So imagine our reaction when another one of those wretched things suddenly appeared. It showed up a little after Vish'El dropped in and started stomping an empty city, arriving in the same bizarre manner. It was obviously a different creature, no doubt some other cosmic species of titan, but there were some odd things we immediately noticed. This one moved a bit more fluidly, though still had a bit of an awkward gait and pace. Its mouth seemed to function more than Vish'El's, so much so it seemed to constantly be flapping open and closed like a chattering crocodile. This beast too seemed like a noisy one, as it liked to roar just as much as Vish'El, though it was a bit different. While Vish'El's were strange variations of the same sound, this fellow seemed to have only one noise that it could duplicate perfectly. That strange metallic howl just over and over, constantly repeating in a deafening loop. It was bizarre. When it arrived, our hearts stopped. Another monstrosity just entered the ring, what hope did we have now? The appearance of this intruder seemed to upset Vish'El as well, as it stomped and screamed in a furious tantrum. Without warning, the two launched themselves at each other and fought. They slammed together with incredible force, shaking the earth with the impact. Neither seemed too fazed by the collision, as they backed up and did again. And again. It was a strange fight to behold, as they just rammed into one another again and again. They would roar and scream, sometimes stumbling or getting their limbs locked, but they would eventually regain this position and continue to bash their heads together. Once in a while, one would hit the other with an awkward tail swipe, sending the opponent tumbling, but then they would just get back up and charge in. We watched the brawl closely, hoping that it would reveal some secrets to us. Despite the ferocity of the fight, the two didn't seem to be getting hurt. But just as our disappointment began to grow, we saw a glorious sight. Vish'El did a tail swipe and suddenly tore a chunk of flesh from the other's shoulder. The meaty hunk slammed to the ground and the intruder trembled and howled. We cheered when we saw it, as it meant that these beasts could be hurt. We looked for any clues on why this attack caused damage, but failed to find any answers. The odd thing was that the stranger did not seem to bleed, despite the grievous injury. It appears these creatures do not possess blood as we know it, or they can easily staunch the flow in these situations. Empowered by this mutilation, the new beast lunged in and seized Vish'El's leg in its jaw. Chomping down hard, it suddenly launched itself into the air, dragging its opponent with them. There was a struggle, but Vish'El could do nothing as its foe spun wildly about. High in the heavens, it flipped around and aimed Vish'El towards the ground. Like a meteor, it drove the duo straight towards the earth, spinning wildly like a crazed ballerina. The impact was devastating, as it slammed Vish'El into the ground. The whole city practically exploded, the plume of dust and debris blotting out the sun. When things started to settle, we saw the aftermath. Vish'El lay on the ground, whole but unmoving. The other beast lurched onto its hind limbs and let out another roar. The victor had been decided. Before we knew it, the two were gone. Vish'El and its destroyer zipped into the heavens and vanished. The whole event caused another uproar, as we scrambled to find meaning and information from this legendary brawl. Vish'El had been soundly defeated, so there had to be hope. The other beast was shown to be mortal, seeing that it could be wounded. Surely we could find something from all these observations to help create a weapon and put an end to this new beast. We hoped that Vish'El's state meant that it would be gone for good, as any animal will flee its territory once a stronger creature appears. The other foe suffered a terrible injury, so perhaps it would slink off for a bit to heal, giving us time to gather and plan. Despite the fact that another titan had appeared, we felt motivated from it. We would get new ideas and new data, and eventually humanity would win. Those dreams ended just as quickly as they started once the dueling duo appeared the following week. They dropped into another city, and we braced for another fight. It seemed Vish'El did not wallow in defeat for long, and the other creature had healed its wound quite quickly. We all were glued to our screens, hoping to glimpse another hint on how these things lived and died. The two squared up and lurched towards each other. Then with a bump of limbs, they turned towards the city and started wrecking. They stomped and smashed with glee, crushing the streets and knocking over buildings. The animosity they held was suddenly gone, as they did not trade a single blow or bite. They just demolished the city side-by-side, occasionally working together to really give it a skyscraper. Once everything was mashed to paste, they returned to the heavens. The world was filled with dread, the two beasts were now allies. Or were they? Two weeks later, they showed up and duked it out again. This time, the beast we dubbed "Mant'Tal" fell, after Vish'El tore a chunk out of its shoulder and shouted it into the ground. They left and returned a few days later, with Mant'Tal winning the day despite having its shoulder wounded in the harsh duel. This victory was secured by spinning its body like a tornado and ramming into Vish'El. Not long after that, the two joined forces to smash another city, only to turn on one another a week later. The friendship was seemingly over after Vish'El gouged Mant'Tel's shoulder and bashed them with a weird flying/sliding dropkick. What relationship these two had was a mystery, but the end result of every meeting was another destroyed city. We couldn't figure anything out, we had no idea what to do next. Things became even more muddled after a video popped up of the two beasts somewhere in the countryside. What we saw was baffling, its purpose known only to these crazed titans. The first bizarre thing was that the two were not in a city, instead out in the wilderness amongst the trees and fields. Their lust for destruction and death seemed to be gone at the moment, as they moved more slowly and methodically. They did not stomp or screech, they did something far strange. Mant'Tal stood in a forest, their huge bulk jutting from the pathetic trees. With bizarre movements, it somehow was tearing up the trees and placing them in a pile, occasionally stopping to add trees to a different pile and then kind of mix them around. It did this while it grumbled an odd noise, something more organic and melodic than is previous roars. Vish'El was not with Mant'Tal, rather the beast was out in the fields, kind of just standing their motionlessly. Eventually it seemed to snap awake and slowly trot its way over to Mant'Tal's forest. When it reached the tree line, it stopped, spun ninety degrees, spun back and then stepped forward. Once in the trees, it turned all the way around, let out a loud noise and then turned back forward. The noise attracted Man'Tal's attention, and they abandoned their various piles of trees to greet the other titan. They growled and roared in odd tones, bouncing in place as they did. Eventually the two moved toward the tree piles and sat by them. They jammed the torn plants into their maws, shoveling them in at a constant pace, despite the fact they kept tumbling out of their open maws. When the piles were scattered at their feet, the two strolled deeper into the forest and then lay on the ground. Once on their sides, all movements ceased. Moments later, they were gone. What this video showed was brand new behavior, but we didn't understand a lick of it. It felt like a dream, especially when the two went back to fighting and smashing weeks later, with no sign of them acknowledging this strange behavior. There is something more to this, beyond mere destruction. We don't know what they are playing at, but its critical we find out what that is. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ah crap, Kaijune is wrapping up and I am hurrying to post the last few scraps! No kaiju is complete without a trusty sidekick/arch-nemesis/friend/something! Complete with battle damage!  

#monster #creature #kaiju #kaijune #art #drawing #alien

[angelharness]

Various Slashers as Yandere Archetypes 

WARNINGS: yandere content 

Another non-requested piece. I actually found myself terribly interested in the concept after my last post musing on the topic (found here), though I’d like to restate that I don’t believe I’ll be writing more on the matter, unless a commission. 

Will firmly reiterate last time’s warning, it’s very important to recognize this characterization as unhealthy and to never enable such behavior in any real relationships. 

Will be sorting each slasher into seven classes, including Isolating, Manipulative, Dependent, Possessive, Obsessive, Delusional, and Lucid

The definitions vary greatly depending on the Slasher, while some may not fit an archetype listed, or could be a hybrid of any number of them. It’s also very possible for them to fit multiple subcategories. 

For reference, a general key would be

Isolating - (Usually gradually) cuts off s/o from their friends and family, secluding them and asserting themselves as their only social contact. Goal is perhaps to make s/o reliant on them.

Manipulative - Fairly straightforward, though the means of manipulation vary. Often emotionally controlling. Might resort to guilting the s/o or self-destructive tendencies to get them to stay. Goal is to assert control over s/o.

Dependent - Depends on s/o for stability or comfort. Might suffer from separation anxiety and as such is terribly clingy. Often ignores other social ties to focus on their s/o. No implicit goal, but usually wishes for reciprocation of feelings.

Possessive - Similar to Manipulative and often a package deal. Would under no circumstances share their s/o, likely frets over losing them (perhaps to romantic rivals or even misguidedly anyone they falsely deem a threat). Goal is to assert control over s/o. 

Obsessive - Not necessarily Possessive, though the two sometimes come together. An Obsessive might not outwardly act on their fixation, but silently pines intensely for their s/o. Fixates heavily on their s/o. Goal is to become closer to the person of interest, or wishes for reciprocation of feelings.

Delusional - Hard opposite of Lucid. They likely wrongly believe their feelings are reciprocated, believe them and their s/o are meant to be, or that their s/o is in denial of their feelings and it’s up to them to help them realize this. No implicit goal, but usually wishes for reciprocation of feelings.

Lucid - Hard opposite of Delusional. Well aware that their feelings are unhealthy and destructive, but usually represses these thoughts or simply doesn’t care. Might feel guilt, but it’s often overshadowed by longing. May have any of the formerly listed goals.

BILLY LENZ

Dependent, Possessive

He is a complex case. His lucidity comes in brief episodes, then wanes to stubborn delusion. Generally, though, he’s dependent on you for a sense of stability. When you leave, he throws somewhat of a tantrum, absolutely trashes the place, tears the wallpaper, knocks shit over, then curls up in a corner, stewing in a vicious, wordless rage. On the rare occasions, afflicted by guilt, he’ll silently clean it up, intensely avoiding your gaze all the while. Most of the time, though, you’re left to deal with the damage of his uncertain temper. He feels like you’re abandoning him, even if you fully have the intent to return; when you do come through the door he launches into your arms, all rushed kisses and crushing hugs. Inevitably, though, the cycle will repeat once more, gradually wearing you thin and thinner. Like a sweater heavily loved. But this love is intense and merciless. 

CARRIE WHITE

Dependent, Delusional

Carrie is very much wary coming into this relationship. She’s so baffled by affection, true and honest affection, no underlying teasing, no stifled giggles, that she nearly breaks down. It takes much adjusting, but soon, she’s hooked. She becomes dependent on your praise and approval to function routinely. Anything you dislike she does as well. You’re always so right, she thinks, so puzzlingly perfect. She idolizes you to the point she blocks out any of your flaws (which come with being human), entirely eliminating the possibility from her mind. She’s willing to overlook any fault, anyway, but she’s dazed by the spectacle of genuine love. Every moment you’re away is a unique, awful pain, singed with worry (you’re leaving, you found someone better), and though in those moments she thinks there’s no possible greater agony, the bliss of your presence keeps her around. She doesn’t care for anyone else—they never cared for her, and it’s not like their compassion would compare, either way. She decides you’re all she needs.

JASON VOORHEES

Obsessive, Isolating

First confronting his feelings, he disregards it casually, assuming it’d be easy to ignore. He busies himself with work, but finds this fixation occupying his thoughts in increasingly frequent intervals. He knows something needs to be done when it starts directly interfering with his chores, leading to sloppy work and far too many victims fleeing. The easy answer is to off you. He hunts you down with that intent, well ready to finally rid of this distraction. But he can’t. Stands there with a hellish anxiety wracking his chest, a feeling only distantly familiar, recalling the days when his heart did beat. He’s so intensely, frustratingly obsessed with you—it upsets him even, confuses him tremendously. All he knows for certain is that he wouldn’t be able to stand you with someone else; doesn’t care if he’s not that someone, as long as it’s not anybody else. From then on, it’s a very last minute change of plans; keep you alive, isolate you, make you dependent on him. He’s not the type to force affection on you, but rather, would purposefully withdraw it for extended periods of time, until you seek it of your own will, in which case he will reward you with the desired attention. 

BRAHMS HEELSHIRE

Possessive, Manipulative 

Like Billy, has a fragile temper that can be quite a minefield to traverse. You can never be sure what will upset him, but when it does he makes sure it’s known. Could additionally be classified as isolating, as he will immediately confine you to the manor. Leaving is far out of the question, though later on he might permit you to extend this bit of freedom to the expanse of garden surrounding the mansion (he will, however, keep you far from the gates). He makes himself out to be entirely helpless without your guidance and care, though that must be wrong, being how he’s had only himself for much of his time living in the space between the walls. It gets you to stay, and that’s what matters in the moment. But eventually, the need to escape his suffocating presence vastly exceeds your will to stay. When that time comes, an effectively inevitable outcome, Brahms had realized in the back of his head, he’ll turn to violence, first in tantrums then in threats directed to both yourself and him. Isn’t beyond killing you if he’s convinced you’re set on leaving and there’s nothing he can do.

BUBBA SAWYER

Dependent, Possessive

Partly delusional, but knows you’re unwilling. Still, relies on you for a feeling of normalcy, that distant echo of a real, functional relationship. Couldn’t bear the thought of you with anyone else, so much he might resort to threats of violence to coerce you into staying. Whether these are empty or significant falls on you to figure out. Liable to tantrums when you’re away, though the severity of these outbursts is determined by his current stability. He considers you part of the family, though at the end of the day, Drayton gets the final say on your status of life. He’ll plead desperately and with genuine distress, but it doesn’t take much pushing for him to cave in on himself; he’s far more scared to disobey the family. If he’s to kill you, he’ll go about it sweetly, clumsy, unfamiliar kisses as he smooths your hair down, trying uselessly to calm you. Your struggling and crying only troubles him, and he might hurry up the process just to quiet that awful commotion. If Drayton allowed, though, he’d keep you as a sort of pet; you’re to stay in his room or at his side and never stray. You’re given a seat at the dinner table as long as you pull your weight and pitch in (albeit unwillingly) with household chores. 

AMANDA YOUNG / THE PIG

Lucid, Manipulative 

Fairly coherent regarding her emotions, though this regulation never translates into her actions, which are twisted by impulse and anxieties. Unintentionally incredibly manipulative, will very quickly turn to self-destructive exploits to gain your sympathy and convince you to stay. Eventually, she stops caring if you’re only sticking around out of a feeling of necessity. If you ever show intent to leave, though, she’d panic. Amanda can’t conceive a life without you now that she’s met you, and though she despises how dependent she’s become on you for stability, she can’t will herself to try and improve. Your attention is a new, frightening addiction; the highs come with affection and compassion, but then withdrawal in the periods you’re away. These acts of love have to be greater and greater than the last to recreate that same rush of intoxication. She’d allow you the illusion of freedom, reminding you often you can leave if you wanted (it’s all a ploy for sympathy), but makes a show of how pathetic she is without you. She can barely function, and though she hates this vulnerability, her balance of mind being dependent on another person, she’s trapped herself in an unforgiving sequence of self-destructive desperation and a murderous temper. 

#x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x s/o #slasher x you #slasher imagines #reader insert #brahsm heelshire x reader #amanda young x reader #jason voorhees x reader #billy lenz x reader #carrie white x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #leatherface x reader #cw yandere #💾:harpy writez

[dercolaris]

Sunrise

A new translation of a very sad Scriddler story. Major character death. Nothing much to say beside that.. Read at own risk! Thanks, @shin-arei for beat-reading. 

Edward rubbed his aching shoulder and turned into the next side street, panting heavily while he was running into the overwhelming darkness. What a night. What a disaster. Holy fucking hell! It really hadn't gone according to his plan, not one bit. The Riddler leaned breathlessly against the nearby wall and stared out of the alley, watched as countless police cars raced across the asphalt towards the damn asylum. Joker really did a great job this time. As much as the raven-haired man despised the clown, one thing had to be left to the self-proclaimed prince of crimes: he knew how to create a somewhat orderly chaos while keeping an overview. Making plans that could actually work was probably just in the thick blood of the ugly clown face. The inventor let the back of his head fall against the crumbling masonry, sucking the air deeper into his lungs. How the hell had Batman found out about his location in Gotham again? Edward swore softly while holding his breath and hissed almost angrily. Had the Dark Knight actually somehow managed to break through his perfectly constructed firewall using obviously cheap tricks? That was impossible! Simply impossible! The man growled in frustration and hit the wall behind him hard with his fist. The Bat must have definitely been cheating. There was no other way to explain it. Edward cracked his fingers and circled his left shoulder once, groaning at the rising pain. After Batman had solved his last riddle through outrageous luck, a special unit of the GCPD burst into his apartment unannounced, which had forced him to flee. The raven-haired man laughed cautiously and pushed himself away from the masonry, strolling deeper into the darkness of the city. The Riddler had been well prepared for such eventualities. The fire escape of the actual building complex did not offer a safe route, of course, as it was always closely watched by the police when they tried to catch a culprit. Thus, months ago he had bought the apartment exactly opposite in the neighbouring building and connected the two apartments with each other with loose wooden boards. From there it was easy to escape almost undetected. Unfortunately, Edward hadn't thought about arranging the furniture in the living room for such a case. He would be as silent as a grave that he had only injured his shoulder because he had tripped over a loose socket strip like a complete idiot and had literally lay on his face. Embarrassing. The inventor listened attentively to the howl of the sirens. It gradually moved away from its position. The raven-haired man sighed dejectedly and stepped out onto one of the countless side streets. Where should he go now? Of course, he had innumerable hiding spots in Gotham, but it was important to think carefully which one would meet the optimal requirements for continuing to work undisturbed after such an incident.

A deafening roar above him gave the man an unexpected shock and forced him to look up at the dark sky. Three helicopters, presumably heavily armed, passed the narrow passages between the skyscrapers. Edward chuckled and mumbled softly into the night: "Are you fucking serious, Joker? How much undivided attention do you want to get from Batman, you egocentric, brain amputee idiot?” The inventor quietly hated the fact that the Bat cared so much about the Clown and almost neglected the other criminals - especially him, of course - if they didn't displayed the same destructiveness. Very depressing. It scratched his ego immensely. He demonstrably gave everything to create the most difficult and creative puzzles possible for the superhero and all that Batman showed him was indifference. The man ground his teeth. The Dark Knight would soon regret underestimating him. Edward shivered slightly as an icy breeze took hold of his form. Unfortunately, he hadn't had a winter jacket on hand when he escaped, and his green suit wasn't exactly that great protection from the bitter cold. The Riddler wandered almost aimlessly through the streets, lost in unexpectedly violent tirades of hate about the Bat. That he would only blame himself for his own failure in the end and that this anger slowly swallowed him up entirely since some years, the man pushed aside. Suddenly the puzzler had the uneasy feeling that something was wrong. It was a nagging, tormenting thought in his mind. Not that his plan hadn't failed that night anyway, but something seemed to be getting completely out of hand. What was it? What was so off right now? Edward frowned and grunted cautiously, thinking hard. Actually there was no reason to get grumpy. He had escaped successfully, the police seemed to want to take care of Joker, as always, and the Bat was probably not interested in arresting him at all. Nevertheless, the oppressive feeling persisted mercilessly. Maybe it would stop once he got to another hiding place. The Riddler passed the spacious promenade at the first bend of the Gotham River, looked for a while at the pitch-black water. The first ice crystals had formed on the surface and it would not be long before the frost would do the rest of its work. His blue eyes flew by themselves to the hazy outlines of the asylum. The victorian, often ominous-looking buildings were brightly lit by the headlights of the helicopters. Inwardly, the inventor still found Arkham to be a collection of beautiful and mysterious structures, which, however, immediately gave him goose bumps in their gruesome function. He would never again voluntarily set foot on this doomed island.

His last stay in particular had been so humiliating and hurtful that Edward had vowed to never get incarcerate again in this horrible institution. Even Blackgate was, in his opinion, more bearable. There at least was no attempt made to systematically process the already destroyed soul into a burning mush. That some local psychiatrists actually dared to call this treatment behaviour therapy was just one bad joke. No, what was really practices there was the mental castration of superior individuals for the protection of the imbecile population. The raven-haired man massaged his stiff neck and gave a muffled sigh. He would rather rot in an uncomfortable collection cell in Blackgate for a number of years than remain in the asylum again under high-dose drugs and constant brainwashing. The puzzler was about to move on when an unusual object in the water demanded his attention. At first Edward thought it was just carelessly discarded garbage in the form of a burlap sack, but closer observation quickly made him doubt it. The man scratched his chin and fixed the object curiously, trying to figure out what it was in the end. A stronger wave suddenly created clarity: a bony hand pressed itself against the surface, the fingers equipped with slightly orange shining syringes. Definitely a human. The Riddler hesitated at this realization and stared in disbelief into the black broth, then swallowed a growing lump in his throat. Somehow the figure looked strangely familiar. Another movement in the river revealed the outline of a well known gas mask. At that moment it hit the raven-haired man like a hard slap in his face. He literally tore his green suit jacket off his body and without hesitation hurried into the icy water, swam with strong strokes in the direction of the lifeless body. The cold clasped his limbs with a firm hand when he plunged into the water and wanted to immediately pull him down into the depths of the merciless river. The inventor shuddered and finally reached his goal with chattering teeth. He cupped the thin shoulders, turned the person face up, and hastily pulled the body toward the bank. His blue eyes searched in panic for a ladder, finally found it in close proximity. Edward heaved the gaunt figure out of the water, clearly breathless. It took a few attempts to completely pull the lifeless body out of the broth. The tinkerer snorted heavily and then turned his head to the person next to him on the floor, stared in pure shock at the meager remains of a once seasoned man. Jonathan Crane. The raven-haired man didn't know what to say for a second.

Very carefully he felt the battered upper body through the wildly patched up linen clothes, felt the many probably serious injuries and open broken bones. Something had nearly torn Scarecrow's entire rib cage apart. The inventor hadn't counted, of course, but several ribs protruded at impossible angles and pierced the pale skin. Only a few seconds passed before the first blood stains visibly appeared through the thin fabric. They spread at an alarming rate. The Riddler gasped and watched the whole scene in silent shock, unable to do anything. It was almost unreal, looked like a feverish dream. The cold did the rest and practically paralysed his mind. The man finally shook his head slightly, reminding himself that this most likely wasn't a wacky nightmare. He clenched his teeth tightly and searched the body for further injuries. He skilfully ignored the noticeably bent leg. It looked painful, but it was definitely the smallest problem at the moment. Edward came to a stop at the completely torn apart gas mask and gently put his fingers around the edges. He carefully pulled the rubber upwards, pausing again and again doing this. Every additional centimetre revealed the pure destruction of a formerly kind-of handsome face. The entire lower lip was only hanging in tatters from the rest of the flesh, the chin was tattered to the bare bone and the tinkerer did not even want to talk about the pathetic remains of the nose. Even the eyes were unrecognizable. Cracks ran across the greying iris, suggesting the terrible suspicion that the man at the bottom had been deprived of his sight. Everything was accompanied by increasing bleeding from the deep wounds. The icy water had probably narrowed the vessels so much that Jonathan had at least not suffered too much blood loss while he was floating lifeless in the river. The Riddler finally managed to remove the gas mask completely from his head and shuddered at the sight of the completely unrecognizable face. The red fluid oozed from the injuries, ran in rivulets from the pale skin. The raven-haired man forgot to breathe for a moment. Only a strong pain in his lungs signalled that he needed air. He huffed heavily and leaned over his companion, looking at the lifeless body. Suddenly Jonathan winced violently, doubled over in seemingly unimaginable pain. Scarecrow coughed barely audibly, salty water squeezed out of his ragged mouth and to Edward's shock from a few openings around his jaw. The puzzler cursed loudly and turned the man on his side, helping him at least to get the liquid out of his throat.

The Riddler tensed up at the rattling noises and screamed in panic: "Holy fucking shit, John! What the hell happened to you?” The addressee suddenly moved completely asymmetrically, as if his own body wanted to turn against him. The lean man began to shiver and more and more blood gathered around his dying figure. The tinkerer frowned instantly, blinked just a few times. His friend died. Jonathan Crane was about to die. Looking at all the injuries, it was obvious. The unusually factual statement was like a stab in the heart of the raven-haired man. A brutal blow to his stomach. After a while the older man stopped spitting on water, only panting heavily from the exertion. Edward finally put his arms under the armpits of the Master of Fear and pulled him up onto his lap, placing his hands on his broken collarbones. The former psychiatrist was now shaking incessantly, his eyes twitching wildly, unable to focus. The Riddler's lips trembled as he spoke softly: “Don't move too much, John. Really. Relax if you can." The injured man coughed up more blood, the partially broken fingers tremblingly searched for a way to the forearms of the other. Edward felt an electrical impulse rush through his body as pure ice touched his cold and damp skin. The bony hands cupped his wrists, clinging to him, weakening. Jonathan croaked in an unimaginably distorted voice: "Is it you, Edward?" The addressee felt the first tears welling up in his eyes, tried to blink them away. He tightened his grip on the older man, held him close to his chest, trying to give him the last bit of warmth he could offer to him. The tinkerer whispered almost tearfully: “Yes, I'm here, John. I'm here.” He felt the other's muscles weaken more and more every passing second. The former psychiatrist's dead opals began to close in slow motion. Edward sniffed unexpectedly loudly, stared at the body below and spat louder than planned into the night: "Don't you dare to die now, you imbecile! Do not even think about it! I'll get you back from hell personally, only to turn your neck for good!” The lean man twitched a few times, but the movements became more and more sluggish.

After a while one of the grey eyes moved up to him, looked deeply into his soul with the greatest effort. Jonathan's voice was nothing more than a murmur in the wind, barely audible and at the same time clearer than ever before: “Is it going to be day soon, Edward? I want to see how the sun comes up.” The raven-haired man finally lost all his self-control. A torrent of tears pressed from his eyes and ran unhindered down his chilled cheeks. He didn't dare to move, just replied in a brittle voice: "Yes, soon, John." The former psychiatrist seemed to calm down with this answer, his body gradually lost all tension and finally sagged completely together. The eyes stayed half open, frozen in that moment. After a while, the Riddler looked up from the gaunt man's face and stared into the rising sun in the deep red sky of Gotham City.

#DC #Batman #Scriddler #Riddlecrow #Jonathan Crane #Edward Nygma #Riddler #Scarecrow #ArkhamVerse #ArkhamAsylum #Character Death

[galacticnova3]

Tell us about your other ocs (not iru 😒🙄) please

GHHGGHHGHJJHHN LOVE THIS ASK!

Ok so I’m gonna talk about Roa in that case!

She’s another Umbramaker (mirror Starcutter), but unlike Iru she isn’t terrible! She’s basically Lor’s mirror counterpart, but not technically because no soul to be reflected and stuff. Due to the nature of Umbramakers basically being bootleg Starcutters, though, Roa is actually 2000 years younger than Lor. Not that that would be super obvious based on how the two act, though; she’s a lot more serious, a bit behind the times, much less outgoing, and others would probably say she’s not as fun. The truth is she just never really figured out how to loosen up until very recently, and even then she’s more of the nerd sort than the memey type. If you get her talking about something she’s interested in, such as Another Dimension and Parallel Dimension (which are different parts of the same place), she could infodump for ages, going on tangent after tangent and yet always bringing it back to the same subject. She would probably get along well with Magolor; science nerd buddies!

In terms of her actual connection to Lor, as. I said, they aren’t true counterparts. They both had super similar life experiences, and just reacted to them differently. Instead of her mistreatment driving her to become a troublemaker like Lor, she became extremely anxious and servile, because she was constantly fearing for her life but knew if she dedicated herself entirely to Working and Being Useful she would be spared. While Lor didn’t get along with other Starcutters because they found her annoying and thought she got in the way, Roa wasn’t well liked because the other Umbramakers basically thought she was a bootlicker. She was very well liked by her pilots though, because she was So Well Behaved and Always Put Others First and Worked So Hard! Their only complaint would usually just be her lack of confidence. Of course, they never took the time to figure out why she was the way she was, though she wouldn’t have told them she knew what went on behind closed doors anyways.

As I’ve said previously, unlike Overworld Halcandra, Mirror Halcandra could afford to throw out their ships if they weren’t performing to a satisfactory level, and she was very much aware of the recycling going on. However, unlike Lor, who hacked herself her own admin rights, accepted her circumstances, and decided if her life had to suck she was going to cause problems on purpose as revenge, Roa actually started formulating a theoretical escape plan. Because she was technically a newer model than Lor, she couldn’t just hack herself and go nuts with her abilities, so she had to be careful. At least, that would have been the case, were it not for a shortage of pilots after a combination of multiple missions in Parallel Dimension going terribly wrong, and a subsequent wave of quitting until safer conditions were promised. Now, for her whole life, Roa has basically been the poster child of a perfect Umbramaker. Never did anything out of turn, stayed in the lines like a fill tool, and just in general had a long record of Not Doing Anything Unexpected. In other words, she also had a ton of trust built up with basically everyone who worked with her that wasn’t another Umbramaker.

So, they(the government) reasonably thought, with the information available to them, that maybe Roa could function on her own, without a pilot, until pilot numbers returned to how they usually were. She could still get measurements and stuff from Parallel Dimension and be in a fleet and all that, just without someone driving her. So, Roa was given admin permissions over her systems, and things went on as usual because she was too scared to do anything. Haha, yeah, no, that second part was a lie. Literally as soon as the officials left the room she took off; carefully plotted escape was out of the airlock, she could leave Right Now and was fast enough that they couldn’t catch her or stop her from warping somewhere else. She left in such a frantic hurry, though, that uh... well, I’ll just say a few people got hurt, which is pretty expected if you get hit by a giant ship taking off. She still holds that against herself; she never wanted to hurt anyone.

Unfortunately, though, in her frenzy, she forgot one key detail: other Umbramakers. Who had their pilots. Who had communications with the port. So, as she’s fleeing, but before she gets the chance to make a portal to Somewhere Else, three other Umbramakers start trailing her; one to her left, one to her right, and one just behind her. They didn’t really have a choice in what they were doing, but Roa has always assumed they wouldn’t have done anything differently if they did anyways. The one behind her shot holes in her sail, which she still has now, to drastically slow down how long charging her vortex would take were she to switch into her combat mode. The other two kept her from going to either side, closing in until she couldn’t go anywhere but forward. In the end, this leads to the main thing she has in common with Lor; she was cornered and forced to enter a cavern in the side of a volcano, and the entrance was collapsed with her inside. Unlike Lor, though, she was still awake, but didn’t have the space to warp herself out.

That’s where she spent the next 27 thousand or so years, eventually putting herself into a sort of sleep mode to retain power and not be conscious the whole time she was trapped in a pitch black cave. She’d wake up when any noticeable physical events were detected, which could potentially mean freedom, but for the most part she would only wake up because of periodic earthquakes and eruptions that didn’t help her. Until, eventually, something else wakes her up; a mirror Halcandran teen, who had been slowly excavating her in secret, having found records indicating there was an Umbramaker buried in the volcano. He was none other than Magolor’s mirror counterpart, Magoroa, who was planning to do the exact same thing as Magolor. Unlike his Overworld counterpart, though, he was not checking out a ship who had been put in the AI equivalent of a coma. He manages to get inside and vibe in Roa’s library for an hour or two, grabbing some books to translate and read during his journey for domination, before she figures out what’s going on and kicks him out. She was free, and she was not risking anything jeopardizing that, even in the form of a teenager.

She flew off without him, leaving him with just a bag of books on magic and potion brewing. After escaping Mirror Halcandra unnoticed and getting caught up on important Mirror World news, such as that whole Dark Mind situation that happened while she was away, she decided to check out Mirror Popstar because apparently Halcandra stays away from there. That’s where she gets in contact with You Know Who, so now she had him to deal with, great. She eventually visits the Overworld to see if maybe she could hide out there. Stuff happened that I haven’t written yet but plan to, she meets Lor... or rather, Lor heard reports of another Starcutter and went looking for her, found Roa, chased her until she could establish “>MA’AM I’M NOT A THREAT PLEASE I HAVEN’T TALKED TO ANOTHER SHIP IN THOUSANDS OF YEARS”, and they subsequently talk and find out they have a lot in common. Now Roa spends more time outside the Mirror World than in it, but she still stays away from basically anyone who isn’t Lor, Magolor, or a select few of the Star Allies. Meta Knight knows of her but isn’t sure what to really do or what to think. He doesn’t trust her because she has no pilot, but also she is so much more mature than Lor that he’s tempted to just leave her be.

I couldn’t think of a place to plop this in the post, but here’s what she looks like in her combat mode! I haven’t talked about it here but Starcutters and Umbramakers can have elements, kinda like the weapons in Star Allies(which is what inspired this headcanon); Lor is bluster wind element(based on her attacks, could explain what I mean in another post if you’re interested), for example. What element do you think Roa is?

Fire. She’s fire element. Doesn’t look like it, but that is 100% intentional on my part and in-universe!

Anyways, if you read this far I owe you my life and also like 10 minutes of your time back.

#long post #asks #rambling #my art #my characters #roa #im so sorry that I don’t know how to not shut up but also no I’m not because I like Roa

[abizarreyodelingincident]

Ridiculous Optimization: The Art of Finding the Right Tool for the Wrong Situation

Chapter Five: THE INFINITY WARDROBE

Three dances.

He could do this.

He hated that he  had  to do this, but he could. The taste of alcohol on his tongue, its burn at the back of his throat... they were tempting, but he knew better than to rely on them. He never tasted any that he hadn't seen served himself, and in a function such as this one, it meant he had only ever carried a single glass throughout.

His lips pinched together, remember the last time he'd forgotten to keep a close eye on his drinks.

A cold grip closed over his guts. Nope. He shouldn't go there. Not the right time. Every notable noble in the kingdom was watching his every move.

Warriors had busied himself teaching his brothers how to best deal with the nobility at his Queen's gala for the past two days. He could say he was proud of Hyrule's and Wind's progress in particular. Neither had had much manners or interest in them before and not one lady had fainted from their crude or frank behaviors. He also had to admire Four's control in accepting the few pinches on the cheeks he got for being so fun-sized.

  I'll give him a bigger part in our next plans of attack. That's a ton of resentment to vent. Whatever monster we face next will be very dead.

“And I was just telling our dear Hero Link here how-” Lady Farosi bragged to Lord this and Lady that and Warriors carefully agreed at all the right places.

He used to like these things. Used to be proud of his role.

'It's you! All this time, the deaths, the battles, it was all because  she  wanted  you !'

Three dances. He had given the first one to Zelda, of course. No one could ever protest that choice of partner. The Queen and her knight. The most important figures in the War of Eras. A splendid couple, though he could not tell if Zelda felt any attraction towards him, the way he...

Warriors shook his head, made an excuse and stauntered to the buffet table, under which he thought he'd seen Legend hide. Two more dances. Then I'm free to leave. Hide in the stables. Play a game with the guards or maybe pay back Twilight for our last match.

He offered Sky a smile when his brother offered him a plate with some meat skewers and a piece of cheese. His stomach protested the very idea of food at the moment, but he appreciated the thoughtfulness. He forced himself to nibble on some of the cheese. It gave him an excuse not to talk to Lady Lanayrou. To dodge her attempt at linking their arms.

  Second dance will be soon.

He scanned the crowd for a proper candidate that wouldn't be draping themselves all over him.

General Impa met his gaze over the crowd of mingling nobles, and his desperation must have shown on his face for she scowled something fierce at him. Right. Sheika. Security detail. Not the kind of person that should be on the dance floor.

With a sigh, Warriors resigned himself to letting whichever lady found him first have first right at a dance with him. Hopefully they'd listened if he said-

“Hey,” said a slightly  off  woman's voice, “do you think you could show me the steps?”

Warriors froze.

A slim, pale Hylian in a turquoise gerudo outfit stared patiently at him. Scars peeked out from under a tasteful veil that hid their chin, mouth and nose, leaving only startling blue eyes. He knew both the veil and the eyes.

Oh.

His gaze flickered down to the extensive network of spider web scars on the sides of the Hylian's torso. The outfit left little to the imagination. It was on full display.

For a second, he struggled to breath, realizing the extent of his brother's action. Warriors needed to apologize so damn much!

Tears threatened to spill from his eyes and he hurried to blink them away, taking the offer with as much gratitude as he could show his brother. Together, they reached the dance floor, and Warriors barely noticed the few times his feet were stepped on. At this point, Wild could stab him and he'd be thankful. Just swaying to the rhythm of the music and making jokes at the expense of the obnoxious people around them was one of the best dances he ever went through.

And then, someone reminded him just where he was.

“Who's this pasty ruin?” Lady Dynral loudly whispered behind her hand fan.

Twilight, who had just previously been attempting to convince a fair maiden that he was mute, tragically incapable of dancing and awaited in a backwater hut where he'd forgotten to turn off the stove, froze.

(It was no secret that Twilight couldn't  quite pull off the neutral look of disappointment patented by the old man. It was a decent attempt, but they all had earned the original too often for the off-brand version to work.)

(What he  could  however pull off was the deadly stillness of a predator stalking a prey that had been just too loud. Eyes that promised death. Eventually.)

The chill alone made hair rise on the back of Warriors' neck and he was barely in the general vicinity of the lady. Now that was some killer instinct. The blatant bloodlust made his chest pang with nostalgia.

Goddesses he'd take another war over this...

However, seeing Lady Dynral's face drain of blood like this filled him with a singular vindictive happiness.

“Never seen Lady Dynral flee a function this fast before,” Warriors chuckled, twirling Wild at the tip of his arm for another round. “Our farmer's got your honor' back, huh?”

The veil hid Wild's face, but not the curious look in his eyes, nor the faint tilt of his head. “He cares about you too,” he said, softly. “We all do, Warriors.”

Warriors couldn't speak with such a soft feeling warming his chest. Wild's fingers squeezed his hands, then let him go. The others all gave him subtle thumbs up throughout the crowd, encouraging him to stay strong in the face of this battle. Dozens of skirmishes flashed behind his eyes, memories where he stood back to back with them, brothers-in-arms before the forces of evil.

(Sky found him another plate, which he did eat this time. Twilight patted him in the back strong enough to make him stumble into a lord, and wasn't that a shame. 'Ah, my mightily sorries, your lordness!' and Hylia alone knew how he hadn't burst out laughing at that one. Wind subtly hinted at the possibility of skedaddling mid dance if things were needed. 'I can fake illness like you wouldn't believe, War'.')

Third dance.  And he had to admit, it looked like it wouldn't be so bad. Wild's assurance and the others' support made it feel smaller than before. He only needed to dance one more time, and he had had fun at a function for once...

Warriors almost felt serene when the bards on stage began plucking at their instruments' strings.

“Announcing... ” one of the guards near the door suddenly shouted, grinding the activities to a halt, “Princess Lore-al of Koholint!”

“What the f-?!” Wind's attempted swearing mercifully was stopped short by Sky's hand covering his mouth. No one even looked their way.

But Warriors deeply understood the sentiment.

The dress was impressive. Cut from the finest fabric, maybe enchanted silk, white with golden accents, and a gentle pink layer in the style of old royalty. Twenty or so rings, gold, silver and platinum, adorned the newcomers' fingers. Some inserted with gemstones, other carved with hylian runes.

Warriors really wanted to know where he'd gotten the tiara. He could have sworn...

Unlike Wild, Legend hadn't bothered with hiding his face. Or transforming it with make-up. He seemingly relied entirely on his natural twinkitude. And the lack of his ever present scowl that softened his looks considerably.

Amazingly, the haughty, confident expression on Legend's face wouldn't have been out of place amongst royalty. His absolute lack of shame as the rest of the ballroom stared did more for his credibility than an actual magic spell would have.

Warriors felt he ought to laugh, but he was too shell-shocked to do so.

Legend strutted, on high heels, right up to him, finally deigning to meet his eyes as if they were meeting for the first time.

“May I have the honor of this dance, Brave Hero?” Legend offered his hand, which Warriors contemplated like he would the head of a particularly vicious and hungry dodongo.

A long series of excuses came to mind, ranging from needing to go iron his wolf and thinking he heard Ganon call his name somewhere. Wild was one thing.  Legend though? The veteran gambling addict would extract so many favors out of this...

Of course, Legend had to raise an eyebrow like he was challenging him to a game of cuccos and Warriors' entire being tossed caution to the wind in a resounding, mental  fuck it .

With all the assurance of a chosen hero of Courage, he snatched a tulip from some of the nearby decoration, bit down on the stem and winked. “The honor shall be mine, Princess Lore-al.”

The musicians noticeable hesitated before starting to play again, and Warriors would have bet that his Queen had subtly instructed them to go on as normal.

The lascivious beat of a tango resonated around them. Legend's smirk widened, his eyelashes batting. “A red rupee you can't lift me one-handed over your head, Brave Hero.”

Despite himself, Warriors grinned. “You're on, Princess.”

 BONUS

“So... where was the old man tonight?” Wind asked as they made their way back to their suite in the guest wing of the castle. “Couldn't find him.”

Hyrule frowned. “Wait, seriously? You didn't notice him? He was really obvious.”

Wind exchanged a glance with Sky and both came to the same conclusion. “What?”

“He was standing next to some of the really snobbish nobles all night. Just looming. Like when he's really pissed at our collective stupidity. They kept glancing around like they were wondering.”

The Links exchanged glances, mulling their recollections of the evening and arrived to a collective conclusion.

“Bullshit.”

Hyrule gave them an uncertain look.

“Was it the mask?” he mumbled, suddenly unsure. “You guys noticed the freaky grayish purple mask, at least? Like, it hid his entire face, but that was still clearly him, body type and stance and all.”

They turned toward Twilight, who shrugged. “Magic?”

They agreed, Hyrule especially. “Magic.”

A few steps later, Wind broke the silence again.

“... So the old man spent the evening just putting the fear of evil spirits in the nobility?”

Warriors snickered.

“Sounds like him, alright,” Twilight drawled.

 DOUBLE BONUS

“You know...” Sky mused, his hands stilling over the piece of wood he was carving. “Maybe I should just ask Zelda to make it Hylian law to never hold balls.”

Four frowned and looked at Time. “Wouldn't that unraveled, you know, the fabric of time and space?”

Time shrugged, looking quite relaxed sitting by an old tree.

“Oh, right,” Sky mumbled, now hesitant.

Warriors fell on his knees. “I'd give you my firstborn, Sky! Please!”

Legend huffed. “Well, now he's gonna have to make those officials.”

Four put a hand on his forehead. “Does  that  count as a paradox? How many of those have we caused actually?”

“I meant Sky being straddled with Warriors' spawn, but sure. Tons of 'em.”

“HEY!”

#Linked Universe #Linkeduniverse #Lu Warriors #Lu Wild #Lu Legend #RO:ART

[ivanshatov]

our happy ending, pt 2

wc: 4.0k

oh mama thats a mighty fine a pizza. pie

tw for character death, blood, and gun mentions

Absence is a strange sensation. Or perhaps it’s the crippling unfamiliarity of the strange new world he’s fled into.

He’s grown to call the town the Veil. After all, he doesn’t believe the name of it is ever whispered, and the very concept of it is fiction, lost to history and hidden behind a veil. And so, it was only appropriate he named it so fittingly.

Despite being in control of the Veil for years at this point, Pyotr doesn’t exactly remember how he came to be in control. Perhaps it was the monotony of it, the blatant repetition, his inability to think alongside the standards of the world that controlled theirs. Perhaps he’d witnessed it so many times, always emerging alive and unscathed, that it was only a matter of repeats until he’d retain his memories. And once he was able to retain his memories, he was able to perform his experiments and test the limits of his boundaries. Over and over, inserting new pauses, movements, features, until the world at last seemed to bow to him. It would have always been merely a matter of time until he came to be in charge of it, mastering its functions and consolidating control. Instead of a pawn, he became the player and the opponent all at once, controlling all the pieces in an orchestra of tragicomic drama. 

Sure, Stavrogin is the middle, the center, the string tying everyone together. Stavrogin, too, is dead, uninvolved in the happenings of the Veil. He used the string to hang himself. No, it was all Pyotr’s doing, all his work. Every fleeting look and every interaction, even the few he had managed to slip in that hadn’t been there before, it had all been his toil. It was fun, too, to add a conversation where there wasn’t, an interaction lost in translation or a dynamic seldom seen. The act of a mere sentence unspoken turned said would give him a splitting headache, but it was worth it for his extra time with Stavrogin. It was even worth it for Liza and Mavriki to have a tender interaction that perhaps went unseen before, or even for his father to have a heart-to-heart with the woman he loved. What a gift he’d been given. A gift to pry into the minds of everyone that surrounded him, even his own father! Though, father’s thoughts were often too absurd and bizarre for Pyotr to comprehend. Nonetheless, he enjoyed his tiny escapades into character development. Filibustering the end with piffle and melodrama.

So, perhaps Stavrogin was the keystone. That was certain. So while Stavrogin would hold the strings of fate, Pyotr saw himself as the weaver, or perhaps a jolly puppetmaster. He bended and maintained the strings that held the weary cast together. Stavrogin the widow, him the web. His thralls, bugs. What a funny little way to think of it, he said to himself, smiling. These were the thoughts that came to his head as he gazed out the train’s window, watching Europe fly past him in a blur. Amazing how far technology has come, he thought. Amazing how much the world has changed since my becoming.

He rapped his fingers on the window in contemplation. What had happened? What had caused him to lose control over his precious town, his web? He could feel it now, pulling at him, demanding his quick return. It would continue to draw him, he figured, until he rebuilt or until he returned. But for now, he could not have stayed there, where his former contemporaries, his bishops, rooks, and pawns, would come for him in a matter of hours. It wasn’t the way. No. He had to clear his head, taste the fragrant mountain air, get his mind in order. Only then could he return, set everything back in its place. 

Pyotr pressed his hand to his forehead and squeezed his eyes closed, propping his shoes atop his suitcase with a bothered sigh.

The tapestry had unraveled, but he’d weave it back together.

***

Alexei Kirillov lived on the edge of town. This he knew. It was some faint memory of his, a note he had taken for future purposes. There was no true markings or postage to mark the ending and the beginning of the province, only thickening foliage and the dirt roads transforming into grass. 

He strode past the hollow, empty buildings that lay unoccupied on the town’s outer circle. The smell of smoke still tickled his nose and burned his throat, and even now, ash still blocked the sky. A dense fog covered everything in a menacing, unfriendly veil, and for a while Alexei found himself trapped in it. He walked, and walked, the soot stinging his eyes as he pressed on to the edge of town. As the earth changed texture beneath his feet, however, something dragged at him like a magnet, yanking him back into the town. It pulled him and attempted to force him back inside, though his curiosity was untameable and virulent. And it seemed, as each step he took drew him closer to the borderline, the pull grew stronger, a rubber band gaining momentum. He broke into a sprint, desperate with curiosity, hand outstretched to an invisible dotted line. Then, just as he felt a sudden jolt on his fingertips, spelling the end of the province’s dimensions, the rubber band snapped. 

He went flying, launched as though he’d been thrown from a high cliff, and landed with a thud on the unpaved road, head spinning. Another shot of pain jolted through his body and he groaned, rolling onto his stomach and then onto his knees. He felt his forehead, now dirtied with dust and blood, and realized the absence of his purposefully placed cap. With another frustrated groan, he rose to his feet, trying to cover the wound with first hair, then a hand, before resigning himself to the fate of an undead zombie, mindless and bloodied. Defeated, he wandered back into town, the force subsiding and breaking the magnetic spell. 

Alexei fell back into silent contemplation, going blank as the road turned from dust to cobble, the town going from unincorporated old shanties to congregated tenements and stores. His feet drew him past the town center, the empty marketplace, the governor’s mansion gone a sickly yellow behind the fastened gates. It was only then he realized that the town was empty. Normally, people would crowd in the streets and hurry for carriages, strike conversations or peddle wares. Now, however, it was eerily silent, as though even the strays and wildlife had fled the town. He stopped in his tracks, clearing his mind and straining his ears for a single sound. A fleeting footstep, a slamming window, a cat’s meow, anything. Yet, all he heard was the ringing in his ears, the hammer of his heartbeat. He raised his hand to his ear, the one opposite the wound, and snapped his fingers. Yes, the snap was audible, perfectly crisp and defined. He snapped again. And again. Then, convinced of his auditory health, strained his ears again. Nothing. Total silence, besides the faint twinkling in his skull. 

With newfound resignation, he pressed on to wherever his feet took him, drowning out the silence with the sound of his thoughts. He had at last grown suited yet again to controlling his body, the unfamiliarity leaving him as he gave thought to his state. He continued to walk, still uncertain of his final destination, wandering around his memories and thoughts with quiet contemplation. After what would have been a few minutes’ walk transformed into something that felt like a few hours, he once again heard a magnetic twinkle ringing in his ears. Pausing and craning his neck, he realized where his feet had brought him.

Skorveshniki waited for him, the front gates ajar.

Against his better judgement, and feeling utterly underdressed to appear among a place of high society, he arrived at the front door, first rapping his fist against the wooden planks and shouting a greeting. Then, he attempted to peek in through the dirtied window panes, but they were shrouded with dirt and the magnificently embroidered curtains had been drawn. At last, he tried the doorknob, and the door budged open with a shriek. Rattled, he stepped inside the mansion, the high walls consuming him and plunging him into relative darkness. The lights were off, the candles unlit, and the only light was that of the faint sunlight peeking beneath the curtains. For a moment, he wanted to stumble backwards, back into the outdoors, fleeing to the other side of town yet again. Though something compelled him forward now, another magnetic pull at his soul, and he couldn’t resist. His feet drew him forward, ignoring all the signs against it, pushing him through the pointed doorways and opulent hallways. 

As he was led into the dining room, he heard a shifting from up in the hallway, and froze. 

The sound of hesitant heels echoed down the hall, and Alexei’s hands went clammy with anxiety. A strange sensation for him— he was usually so accustomed to his jaded outlook, his inability to process the degree of suffering around him, that fear was an emotion seldom felt. Now, his anxiety burned in his throat, while he stood weaponless, shivering, and frightened. The footsteps grew louder, and Alexei put up his hands, when the silhouette of a ballgown appeared in the doorstep. A pistol clicked and a shiver ran down his spine. “State your name,” a woman’s voice demanded.

“Alexei Nilyich Kirillov,” he stated, calmly, hoping to not betray the anxiety pounding in his chest. 

The ballgown stepped into a sliver of sunlight, revealing a porcelain face bruised and battered, blonde hair done up now unkempt, and he instantly recognized her despite the relative unfamiliarity between them. “Mr. Kirillov?” she asked, her pale eyes gleaming in the pale light.

“Elizaveta Tishin,” he replied breathlessly, hands dropping to his sides. “If I remember correctly.”

“You do,” she replied, turning to the curtains and drawing them open. Now he saw her in full. Her green ballgown was tattered and dirtied with earth and her blood, her face still bruised and bloodied from what looked to be a painful struggle. She had knotted her hair up onto her head, but faint curls still sprung from behind her ears. The confident look of her severe face had vanished, and she looked apprehensive, cold, nervous, as she turned back to him. “You are the madman who lives in the tenement.”

The madman. He scoffed at that, and she curled her lip. “Yes, I live in the tenement,” he said, with a raised hand. “Though I am not a madman, I am relatively of sound mind. A man’s interests don’t always have to define his sanity,” he proposed with a faint smirk.

Liza’s gun caught the sunlight and he squinted as she held it up, wringing it in her hands. “But you are mad. No man of sound mind talks so calmly and presently about people taking their own lives.” She took another look at him, up and down, then eyed the wound on his head, the sickly blood that had pooled around it. “And it seems as though you may have taken your own.”

“It was always meant to be, wasn’t it?” he said, almost laughingly. “I mean, I suppose I always knew. It was just a matter of when. Even if Verkhovensky—” 

Verkhovensky. Liza’s face twitched and Alexei stopped in his tracks, circling back around. “I don’t remember. Never mind it,” he said with a flick of his hand. “Are there… others?”

She glanced at him with faraway eyes and then directed her gaze down the hall. “Yes. In fact, you’re late to the party.”

“The party…” he murmured. “How many?”

“Two,” she grumbled, frustrated, stepping away from the window and starting down the hall. He didn’t have time to request an elaboration before she beckoned him over. “Come on now. Follow me.”

He jumped up and followed her, moving fast to join her side as they headed down the corridor. Though he felt himself fixated on her, anything she knew, anything she thought, she paid no mind to him, unbothered as she rapped on the door to the drawing room of Varvara Stavrogina before pushing it open.

There, he recognized Marya Lebyadkina and Darya Shatova, sitting on opposite chairs in apprehensive silence. Upon seeing Kirillov’s face behind Liza, though, Marya brightened instantly, getting to her feet. “Mr. Kirillov!” she cried joyfully, limping over to him with enthusiasm. “Mr. Kirillov is here,” she beamed, taking his hand and leading him into the drawing room. Liza shut the door and returned to her place, a vacant armchair. 

Alexei smiled at Marya, who led him into one of the empty seats. As he sat, he noticed a heaping of bloodstained clothes on the floor, then noticed that Marya’s dress was quite too large for her. Sitting across the room was Darya, embroidering with focused intensity. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but shut himself up, sitting silently as he surveyed the room. “And where is Varvara Stavrogina? And Stepan Trofimovich? That Govorov fellow, too? And, how of Fedka the convict? And what about—?” His eyes followed back to Dasha, who had momentarily looked up from her sewing to shoot him an incredulous look. “Where is your brother?” he asked, voice shaking. “Where is his wife?”

Dasha puckered her lips in thought and bowed her head, returning to her embroidering. “I do not know where Vanya is,” she replied, slow and sullen. “Nor his wife. I didn’t know Marie had returned, either…”

He turned to Liza again. “Where is everyone? The town is empty.”

She responded with a shrug.

“And I thought you had died, too,” Dasha said. “Liza, Marya, too. Yet…” She made an anxious observation around the room, peering at everyone’s faces with wide-eyed curiosity. “Yet, here you all are.”

“Ah, Shatoushka will return, I am sure of it,” Marya said, flapping her hands. “I shall see Shatoushka soon.”

Wringing his hands and biting his lips, he turned to Dasha again. “How long has it been?” he asked.

She looked at him questioningly for a moment, before nodding in realization. “Not a week,” she murmured. “Yet, Pyotr has gone. The others have all vanished. Stavrogin has… yet to revive,” she said, shooting a wary look down the hall. “Though I locked his poor body away. God forbid he revives,” Dasha sighed, pausing to sign the cross. “We will all be doomed again.”

Alexei pressed a hand into his temple in confusion. “So, we have all revived, gradually, then?”

“You’re inquisitive,” Liza interjected.

“I am trying to figure this out,” he snapped back. Had he at last reached Godhood? Was this all a dream? Perhaps not. He opened and closed his hands, wiggled his fingers, pulled at his ears. No, he was present.

“Yes, first Marya, then Liza, now you.”

“Now me? But that must mean…” he gestured and mumbled something inaudible, striking his fist against his knee. “Is there a samovar here? I must have a cup of tea for my head.”

Liza and Darya pointed to a small stove on the counter, and Alexei jumped to his feet, fiddling with it and searching for a match. 

“It must be chronological,” he said.

“I deduced that,” Dasha murmured, setting aside her embroidery. “Yet Lebyadkin did not revive with Marya. That fellow Fedka is nowhere to be seen. Mavriki and Varvara have vanished completely, as have all the townspeople, and now you and Liza have come in order. But what I can’t understand is…”

As Alexei drew the match over its box, the stick erupting into a small flame, memories hit his mind again and he nearly dropped the match onto the wood floor. “Ivan should be here,” he said, unable to block his inappropriate use of Shatov’s first name. “I, I, I knew he was dead before me,” he stammered, holding the match beneath the samovar and lighting the candle. “For Verkhovensky was quite rattled and intense.” He raised his hand, feeling the bruises that circled his neck where Pyotr’s hands had been, and sighed. 

“Well, perhaps if not everyone revives,” Liza began, smoothing her gown. “Then he may be included in that section. If Lebyadkin, Fedka, and Stavrogin remain dead, then who is to say Shatov does as well?”

“Stavrogin is yet to be seen,” Darya murmured a moment later, her eyes shining with what looked like fear. 

“But we will,” Liza replied, hands behind her back.

Dasha’s lips creased into a frown. “We will.”

Alexei extended his hand to touch the porcelain kettle, his fingers recoiling at the heat that had already begun emanating from it. The kettle whistled, and he rustled through the cabinets for a cup, paying no mind to the sounds of the room around him. Dasha returned to embroidery, Marya to the book she held, Liza to fiddling with the lace of her skirt. The sound of the kettle grew so loud in his ears and he became so involved with pouring his tea that he did not hear Dasha’s needle and thread fall to the ground as she gasped, and did not hear Marya’s cry of joy and Liza’s footsteps. As he filled the cup to the brim, whistling softly to himself, he at last heard another voice.

“Alexei Nilyich?” 

Alexei turned, confused, the mug cupped in his hands. 

Ivan Shatov stared at him, unkempt and bloodied, eyes wild and frightened. Ivan Shatov extended a trembling hand, and smiled. “Alexei Nilyich,” he said softly, with renewed certainty.

Suddenly overcome, and feeling his mind plunge back into another ocean of memories, the cup slipped from Alexei’s hands and fell to the floor, shattering into hundreds of pieces. Not moments later, his legs gave out beneath him, his vision going dark as he collapsed onto the floor.

***

It was a waiting game. Ivan was unsure whether to spend his first moments at Skorveshniki with his sister, hugging her and feeling her near, or tending to Kirillov, who had been moved from the floor to the couch after Shatov and Dasha had helped clean the pieces up. 

Ivan had forgotten how similarly he and Dasha had behaved, both in movement, habit, and expression. Their appearances were night and day; Dasha had a thin, sallow face, supple lips and soft blue eyes. Meanwhile, Ivan had a round and pudgy face he’d always despised, with a hard jawline, unfriendly eyes, and a wide nose. One of his eyes was gray, too, like Dasha’s, the other brown, though this was hard to tell due to the permanent scowl on his face. But nonetheless, he and Dasha both wrung their hands and furrowed their brows, had loud laughs, were the first to clean up after themselves, throw out garbage, wash the sliverware. After moving Kirillov, he had sat in silence with them for the next few hours, saying nothing and remaining in the inquisitive silence. After Marya had slipped into sleep, then Liza, Ivan kissed his dreary sister on the head and told her he would check on Kirillov. She replied with a yawn and swatted him out into the hall.

Dasha had cleaned him up well. She cleared the blood off his forehead and hands and gave him some new shirts. She hadn’t said it, but he already knew that they must have belonged to Stavrogin. How strange was it now, wearing Stavrogin’s clothes, inhabiting the house of high society where Stavrogin lived. Stavrogin, Stavrogin. He filled his thoughts like an inescapable pest, that Stavrogin. All threads lead to Stavrogin.

He sat there now, across from a still-unconscious Kirillov, on one of those uncomfortable old chairs. He had his legs up on the coffee table, feeling quite the disrespectful serf, though there were no vassals or aristocrats there to reprimand him.

He had almost begun to slip into sleep himself, his eyes glazing over with exhaustion, when he heard Kirillov moan in pain, then shift in his seat. Ivan leapt to his feet, hurried over to the couch and gave Kirillov a nudge. “Alexei Nilyich,” he said. “It’s me, wake up.”

Kirillov rolled onto his side and slowly opened his eyes, staring up at Ivan with an unreadable look. “It’s you,” he began, his voice small and hoarse.

“It’s me,” Ivan replied, his voice betraying some of the glee he felt at Kirillov’s reawakening. “Here, can I grab you water, Alexei Nilyich? How’s a tea?”

“No tea,” he murmured, shifting his position and rubbing his head. “No water.” As he eyed Ivan, he noticed that the bullet hole on his head had been nicely covered up with a bandage. “May I have one?” he asked meekly.

“One what?” Ivan asked, confused.

Alexei pointed to the side of his head. Then he lifted another finger, then his thumb, creating a gun, and smiled ironically.

The color drained from Ivan’s face, and his stomach turned. “So you did…” he started, looking down at his hands. “Well, I thought he may have killed you too,” he began, his memories flying back to the cold barrel of the gun against his forehead. He shivered, remembering Pyotr’s unfeeling eyes, faint smirk, and glanced back at Alexei’s unwavering expression. 

Alexei smiled bleakly. “He tried.”

Ivan sucked in a breath, going silent. 

“And I nearly killed him, too. Nearly wrung his neck. I very well could have, had he not…” he went silent too, folding his hands on his lap and then smiling. “The most important thing is, you’re alive. Or, at least a version of alive.”

Ivan rose to his feet and strode over to Alexei, pushing aside the coffee table and sitting on the floor in front of him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, resting his head on Alexei’s lap.

Alexei began to stroke the top of his head, humming softly to himself. “Why’s that?”

“I never said anything to you. We never said enough. After I came back, Lyosha, I felt… ashamed.” Alexei paused as Ivan did, and shifted sideways. “I was ashamed of myself. But I feel better now, Lyosha, I feel now we have time. We can be happy now, at least until… whenever, whenever.”

Alexei sighed and nodded his head, continuing to stroke Ivan’s head. Then, Ivan got up on the couch, laying across Alexei’s lap before taking his head in his hands. “We can be together now,” he said breathlessly.

With a faint smile, Alexei placed his hands on top of Ivan’s and leaned in. “Now we can.”

Their lips met, and they leaned in close, falling into each other’s warm embrace. Their heads pressed together, fingers interlocked, in a warm meeting that had been seldom felt in many years for either of them. Ivan leaned forward, beginning to undo the buttons on Alexei’s collar, when a flurry of footsteps and a scream sounded down the hall. The door swung open, and a mad-eyed Nikolai Stavrogin appeared in the doorway, his pale and hollow face illuminated only by the moonlight outside. 

He was tall, frightening, still dressed all in black and almost perfectly blending with the wall behind him. Matted black hair covered his deepened eyes, bloodshot and foxlike, and rope burns circled his neck. His head craned to stare at the men, and he grinned, his voice morphing into a pleased cackle.

Ivan and Alexei fell into each other's arms as he greeted them with a grin, a laugh. “I always knew that you, Shatov, were nothing other than a sodomi—”

He did not have time to finish before a gunshot rang out and his face caved in, splattering blood across the floor and the ceiling. Like a cockroach, Stavrogin wobbled on his feet for a moment before collapsing to the ground, dead, revealing Dasha standing behind him, Liza’s silver pistol in her hand. Blood stained her petticoat and her face, and she blinked, her mouth hanging open.

Her eyes shifted to Ivan and Alexei, still huddled in each other’s arms, shivering and bug-eyed, their breathing rapid as Ivan stared at the body, Alexei at the ceiling. 

Dasha closed her eyes, chest heaving, and she threw the gun to the floor.

“We have nothing to worry about now.”

#hahaha #i love it when #alexei kirillov #ivan shatov #elizaveta tushin #marya lebyadkina #darya shatova #demons #the possessed #fyodor dostoyevsky #dostoevsky tag #my writes #i should make a tag for this probably #books #fic #pyotr verkhovensky #oops

[fanficsforheartandsoul]

The Bounty | [Fem!Twi’lek!Reader x Din Djarin] | The Mandalorian

Notes: This will get a 3rd part which will probably be the last one. It took a little longer since I had so many fanfics in my drafts and I just added stuff when I was in the mood but I still hope you enjoy it :) Also If you don’t play Star Wars: The Old Republic you might not have realized it in the first part, but Eli is a Miraluka. What this species can do will be revealed here or you just google it I guess xD

Fandom: Star Wars, The Mandalorian

Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Some Angst, Original Characters, Longing, Slight OOC

Summary: Din Djarin and Y/N, the smuggler meet again, but their circumstances do not benefit the relationship Din wishes they could have.

Word Count: 5534

Once again, the Reader is a Twi’Lek!

Part I

________

Months went by and their journey continued on. His and the child's. They traveled across the galaxy, landing on desert planets, hiding on moons, hunting a bounty here and there even though he wanted to stop, and more often than not they had to flee in a hurry.

It was the same old routine. The only thing that changed was that Din couldn't go to sleep right away. The occurrence wasn't rare at all but now he didn't stay up because of his insomnia, or bad memories which would haunt his dreams.

He laid awake in his cot, the child on his chest and all he could think about were those mesmerizing eyes. It felt like a joke. He had met her only once and the time they spent together had been less than 3 hours but he still got swept off his feet. He wouldn't admit it, he couldn't. If he told Cara that a random smuggler was able to catch his heart she would probably laugh out loud and say something like: "I knew you were a big softie."

But he couldn't stop thinking about Y/N. The way her eyes had lit up when she laughed, how she swayed slightly with her hips when she walked. The way her clothes complimented her figure. There was a burning in his heart, a longing, and Din felt shame for thinking about a woman he barely knew in such an intimate manner. He tried to tell himself that he only felt that way because he was starving for affection and body contact, and anybody would do but his heart told him otherwise.

He tried to busy himself, tried to forget her or that she ever existed and it seemed to work, at least a little until fate appeared like it wanted to torment him.

They met again. But as things seemed to always go wrong for him, she was his bounty. And he was supposed to bring her in cold.

-

“The fuck do you think you’re doing, Kecha?”

Y/N stabbed his hand with her knife. The Delphidian cried out in pain and tried to grab her wrist but she warned him with a glare. His bodyguards pointed their blasters at her, even so, the Twi’Lek didn’t react.

“I told you I won’t give you shit if you can’t pay the full price!” 

She twisted the knife in his wound and he groaned. His pitiful state satisfied her anger a little and she jerked her knife out of his hand. Kecha pulled his hand back and used his robe to stop the bleeding. Slowly, she sat down again and leaned back in her seat, her eyes not leaving his hunched figure. Since their boss didn’t say anything his gang members lowered their weapons.

“We had a bad month, Y/N, I can only pay the amount I have here...”, he stopped and pointed to the credits laying on the table, "but I can pay you in another currency."

The smuggler wiped her blade clean with a cold expression. 

"I'm not interested in slaves, you should know that." 

The pirate boss nodded, of course, he knew. She had almost split his skull once for offering her a male Twi'Lek slave. 

He hesitated and then waved one of his boys over. He whispered a few words in his ear while Y/N watched him with a wary look. The pirate left to get something and returned some seconds later with a bounty puck and a tracking fob. She narrowed her eyebrows. Somehow she had a bad feeling. 

"This puck was in the possession of a Duros we encountered a week ago." 

He didn't need to explain how their encounter ended, the green blood on the device told enough. He activated the puck and Y/N's expression darkened instantly when she recognized her own face with Wanted written in Basic underneath. Her right hand traveled to her hips where her blasters were located. 

“So what now? You wanna kill me?” 

The Delphidian shook his head and she relaxed slightly. Nonetheless, her hand rested on her gun.

“Of course not, you’re a valuable business partner.” 

Y/N snorted but her eyes looked unamused. She grabbed the tracking fob and activated it. The beeping was obnoxiously loud and fast. Well, its quarry was holding it after all. The thought of someone putting up a bounty for her worried her more than Kecha probably imagined. Her demeanor was unfazed but unease claimed her heart. 

“Anything else you found out?”

The pirate boss nodded and rubbed the sweat from his forehead, pain was clearly visible in his eyes. The fact that he didn’t lash out at her for injuring him showed their unusual bond. After all, they had been partners for years. She started to feel a little guilty for hurting him but she would never admit it. 

“They want you dead. 300′000 credits for your cold body.” 

His voice had a worried undertone and the Twi’Lek paused. So many credits for her? The amount was intimidating and she wondered who the rich stranger was, who wanted to pay so much for her death.

“Wait, why would they - whoever wants me dead - hire the bounty hunter’s guild for this? This sounds more like a job for an assassin.”

Kecha shrugged his shoulders. 

*I don’t know but if I were you I would lay low for a while.”

Y/N let out a small laugh. 

“You know I can’t do that. Business is everything and I can’t lose any customers.”

The Delphidian frowned but she couldn’t tell if it was because of his wound. He used his uninjured hand to push the credits on the table towards her then he leaned back and let one of his henchmen give him a cloth to wrap around his hurt hand.

She took the credits and put them in a bag attached to her hip. She also grabbed the puck and deactivated the tracking fob. The smuggler stood up and walked over to the spice containers she brought him. With quick fingers, she unlocked all of them and deactivated the lock feature. When she turned around to see if he was satisfied, she noticed Kecha’s troubled expression. Her eyes softened.

“Don’t worry, I won’t get killed that easily. I can defend myself just well.” 

He sighed and replied with an annoyed undertone:

“I know, you don’t have to remind me.” 

Y/N turned her lips into a grin and she grabbed something in her bag and then threw it to him when she turned around to leave. Kecha caught the bacta patch and smiled. 

“Thanks, Cap.”

She waved dismissively and left the room. No one followed her and she walked back to the Icarus. The moment the door closed behind her, the corner of her lips dropped. How would she get out of this mess? A bounty for her head? That was something new and Y/N she didn’t like it. 

-

If Din had known who exactly he had to find he wouldn’t have taken the tracking fob. But that was the problem; he didn’t know. He didn’t receive the bounty from the guild, obviously not, after all, he left them behind. He got the job from a fellow on Taris while staying there. They needed supplies but he realized that they were short on money. 

So he left the child on the Razor Crest - his heart clenched in worry but they needed food desperately and when he watched how the ramp of his ship closed, his child looked at him as if he understood. 

It hadn’t really been his plan to do a bounty, he wanted to leave the profession behind because he needed to care for a baby but it was the quickest way to get good money. 

Only once more, was his thought when he received the tracking fob. Neither did he know who put the bounty up nor who he had to hunt, but it was more than a guild traitor could ask for so he didn’t complain. He would get the money from his informant, he would make sure of that.

The beeping was slow and all he knew was the last location of his bounty and the fact that he should bring it in could but he didn’t let himself get discouraged. It had been the same with the baby and he found the little womp rat so he didn’t worry too much. Since he had one crucial information, the person he was about to hunt, was a notorious smuggler. Which meant he needed to be careful with his approach.

The first thing that went through his head when he heard that was, of course, Y/N. Stars, that woman stole his heart and he let her. Why was he so careless? With the cock of his blaster, he chased the beautiful Twi’Lek out of his mind and left the cantina.

He bought a rusty but still functioning speeder with the last of his credits and set off. He had no destination in mind, he just drove around to see where the tracking fob would start to beep louder. 

He saw the remains of a city void of any intelligent life, fragments of former wars and battles. Nature took back what once was hers and the beauty of how she did it, made him pause. Would he be able to settle down in a quiet place like this? 

It made him wonder why this was the first thing that crossed his mind but after seeing so much violence and death in his life, dying like a warrior seemed less desirable for him. 

Peace and quiet, a goddamn second for him to take a breather and an evening where the child could eat and sleep without any disturbance was a wish that resonated deep within his soul. Maybe he got old. But he wasn’t old enough yet to not hear how the fob’s beep turned louder. 

He stopped the speeder and jumped off. In a radius of 10 meters, he walked around it and listened to any change in the rhythm of the device. He needed to head north. The beep was not fast enough yet so he mounted the speeder again and continued to drive towards his bounty. What he didn’t realize, he wasn’t the only person who listened to his tracking fob.

-

“You sure it’s going to work out fine? You have a bounty on your head now...” 

Eli voiced his concerns and she sighed. Of course, she knew, but as she had already told Kecha, her customers weren’t waiting and business was important. She couldn’t stop now, not when she almost got enough money to save her.

“It’ll be alright. This will be the last deal for a few months, okay? We can lay low for a while after this.”

His expression showed how he wasn’t exactly pleased with her answer but she ignored it and once again checked her datapad. It was almost time for her customer to show up. 

She could understand his worry. Not only did the deal happen in a location where they would be presented on a silver tablet to any enemy, but they also didn’t have back-up like usual. But she had had no choice. The customer wanted it like that. And she wouldn’t dare anger a Hutt. Especially not him.

Y/N licked her lips and realized how dry her throat was. She decided to grab something to drink from her backpack, which laid in the shade next to the containers with the spice and their speeders. She had just drunk a few sips when a speeder approached. 

“That must be the announcer”, remarked Eli and his head turned to the direction from which the approaching person came. She laughed.

“Well, Taro always had a flair for the dramatics. Announcing your arrival, does he believe he’s royalty?”

Her mocking tone caused the Miraluka to smile and she raised her voice when the roar of the speeder engine came to a stop a few meters away. Eli shifted and gasped. Was the announcer so ugly? She grinned.

“What a nice day isn’t it?”, she turned on her heel, “For a deal with spi-”

Their eyes met. Actually no, her eyes and his T-shaped visor met. Her breath hitched. She recognized the armor immediately. It had some more scratches and traces of blaster shots but she had dreamed about it so many times that she just knew.  “It’s time for us to leave. Thank you for your hospitality.” The flutter in her chest from that day returned. What... What is he doing here?

Her eyes traveled to the thing in his hand that beeped obnoxiously. Oh.

Y/N raised her head and stared at his visor again. A bitter grimace crossed her face. Both of them exhaled slowly, almost painfully.

“Shit.”

-

Din’s mind was a mess. How was it possible that the person who stole his heart suddenly appeared before him like this? Oh, Mand’alor, how could fate be so cruel? His bounty was her companion?! How could he kill him, what was his name - Eli, who traveled with her and obviously meant much to Y/N? 

He felt slightly dizzy from the storm inside his head and all he could do was curse. When she said the same thing as him, his heart clenched and he almost let out a breathy laugh. This situation was the worst. 

“So we meet again.”

Y/N started talking first and her voice was as melodious he remembered. Her e/c eyes were filled with something that caused his heartbeat to quicken and he was once more thankful that she wasn’t able to see his face. This way she couldn’t see what she did to him. His cheeks and ears were burning and he prayed that his voice regulators weren’t sensitive enough to pick up his quick breathing. 

While he seemed to have completely forgotten what the tracking fob in his hand meant for both him and the other two, the Twi’lek continued to speak with an ugly grimace on her beautiful face.

“This isn’t exactly how I imagined we’d meet again, Mando.” 

He realized how her hand landed on the blaster on her right hip. The gesture was like a bullet to his heart. Did she seriously believe he would do something to her friend? The thought didn’t cross him when the storm in his mind continued raging. Of course he was worrying about the child and the money but still. No way.

“I- It’s good to see you again, Y/N”, he replied lamely.

He wanted to tell her so many things but it looked like his brain had a short circuit. The woman’s grip tightened around her weapon but she didn’t point it at him. Her smile was still bitter and his heart seriously ached from seeing the frown.

“I don’t know if it’s really good. I see you’re here for the bounty. So what now?”

Her hostility was clearly audible in her voice and Eli stepped beside her as if he wanted to protect the smuggler. The way his hand touched her shoulder so casually made jealousy flare up in him. Were they together? This possibility struck him like lightning. He never even thought about it that the stunning woman could already have someone in her heart. 

Actually, he didn’t even know what he thought. All he ever daydreamed about was holding her close. Seeing her laugh, watching how her charming eyes light up because of something that he said. 

Okay, truthfully he had also had some rather... impure thoughts about her but that was when his mind wandered late at night when he wasn’t able to sleep at all and the snores of his child couldn’t help him to doze off. 

But that wasn’t the point. The point was that he never actually imagined meeting her again much less, what he would say to her. He groaned because of his own stupidity. On what cloud had he been floating?

“Y/N, this doesn’t seem to be a good time to discuss this...”

The brown-haired man tilted his head and the veil in front of his eyes swayed slightly. Din disagreed with him. 

“I’m not here to hurt you”, he tried to show his sincerity in holding up his hands with the tracking fob still in his grip.

“You sure about that, big guy?”

Seeing her antagonizing him with a fierce look in her eyes and a dark expression on her face, made Din think: Fuck, she’s hot. His brain clearly turned to mush after meeting her again. There was no other way to explain the lack of his reasoning and rationality. He could only nod, his stance was extremely stiff.

Y/N pursed her lips, and his heart skipped a beat - Mand’alor, in what kind of lovesick fool have I turned? She relaxed her hand slightly but her expression was still as cold. 

Unknown to Din, the Twi’lek’s mind had turned into a mess too. Delight, Anxiety, and Helplessness coursed through her veins all at the same time and she had troubles trying to figure out what she was supposed to do now. 

The man she had fed and protected and who had infatuated her a few months ago, suddenly showed up in front of her, right before she was about to wind up the last deal for her goal. She was filled with joy but at the same time with dread, since he was obviously here to kill her. Definitely not the reunion she had expected.

But the way he stood there, no intention for attacking visible from his body language gave her hope. Maybe they could talk this one out. 

“You know...”, his voice sounded emotionless through the regulators of his helmet but the way he hesitated showed his uncertainty, “I wanted to tell you something. After the child and I left your ship I...” 

She didn’t see his eyes but she knew they were focused on her. She could feel the burning of his stare. 

“Y/N, I wanted to tell you that I-”

A single gunshot ringed through the air and the smuggler staggered. A round burning hole appeared in her chest, her armor didn’t protect her at all.

At that moment Din realized that he had it all wrong. Eli wasn’t the bounty. It was Y/N. And somebody just fucking shot her.

A shout reached his ears and when he leaped forward to catch her, Din didn’t realize he was the one yelling. 

-

Eli caught her first. How the apparent blind man managed to do that, he didn’t know but at that moment he didn’t care. A noise in his ears was all he could hear when he pushed the other man and Y/N to the containers to take cover. 

He turned around, his rifle already in his hand, the tracking fob had been dropped to the floor mindlessly when he tried to catch her. 

His eyes found the shooter immediately. It was a human man with a sniper rifle. He wore a blue jacket with a red symbol Din had seen before. The man wasn’t far away, in fact in shocked him how close he was able to get. Had his senses become dull? Or was it because he was talking to the person he liked? Burning fury exploded in the Mandalorian’s chest.

While Eli cradled the Twi’Lek in his arms and spoke to her in a panicked manner, all he could see was red. His hands moved automatically and efficiently when he cocked his gun and he seemed deadly calm when he slowly raised his rifle. His outside appearance was completely the opposite of his inner turmoils but maybe his rage was able to get him to focus. 

Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. KILL. KILL THAT BASTARD!!!

He shot once, then twice and he continued to shoot until he had to reload. His finger still pulled the trigger when his plasma gun didn’t have any ammunition left. But Din hadn’t shot the man fatally. His aim was slightly off because his hands had suddenly started shaking when Y/N’s friend called her name in a desperate attempt to stop her from fainting. Nevertheless, he had wounded the foolish bastard who dared to attack the person he loved. 

He was about to stomp over to the soon-to-be-dead fucker, who had tumbled to the mossy ground behind some trees when a painful grunt cut him short in his tracks.

“Sith, that hurt like a b... bitch...” 

Y/N’s breath was haggard and her grip on Eli’s arm was weak but she didn’t lose consciousness. At least not yet. The way her eyes had turned misty was a warning which made both men’s blood run cold. The Mandalorian’s wrath extinguished as fast as it ignited. All that was left was cold dread and the feeling of helplessness. He ignored the man who shot her thinking: That bastard will die of his wounds anyway.

Din walked to the fallen smuggler and her companion and fell to his knees. His distress was clearly audible through the regulators of his helmet. 

“I don’t have a b-bacta patch”, was all he could say through his gritted teeth. 

“Neither do we...”

Her tone was light but she couldn’t hide her pain. The Twi’Lek grabbed her companion who seemed to be in a daze. Her face showed a grave expression.

“Fuck... Eli, promise me you’ll free her... okay?”

Din had no idea what she was talking about but she was obviously talking as if she was about to die. Which could be because she was only lightly injured right? There was no way that the woman, who melted his already frozen heart, would just die here when they just met again. Right?! 

The blind man choked and his arms who held her trembled. The scars on his face wrinkled when he frowned and Din felt how ice-cold terror washed over him. No, no no, this can’t happen!!

He grabbed her hand without thinking and the fact that she wasn’t cold yet stopped his spiraling momentarily. Her e/c eyes found his visor and she tightened her grip as if to tell him that everything was going to be fine. Y/N smiled weakly and it was a wonder that he didn’t keel over right then and there.

“Don’t say that. I won’t do it. I’m not promising you shit, Cap!”

The brown-haired man exhaled slowly. 

“I’ll make sure you hear what that stupid Mandalorian wanted to say to you before you got shot like an idiot. I told you it was a dumb idea!”

He swallowed. What was Eli even talking about? They had no way to help her without a bacta patch! He held the Twi’lek’s hand like it was a lifeline. He felt like he was the one who was dying. And maybe he was. If Y/N left him here and now, he was sure he would never recover from the loss. The loss of never having something he wanted. The loss of never being able to tell her what he wished they were. The loss of a lover who never was one. 

“It... not... my fault...”, murmured Y/N, her face definitely paler than before. 

He wanted to say something to her, at least tell her how he felt when they had first met but no words escaped his lips. It was as if he lost his voice. He could only watch with burning eyes how Eli put his hand on the deadly wound. The man breathed out slowly and Din could see how his jaws clenched. 

“After this, you’ll need to pay me back with a kyber crystal”, growled Eli, his expression totally different from the harsh tone of his words. Once again he had no clue what the blind man meant.

It was as if the galaxy took a second to breathe and slowed time while doing so. Din could see how the eyes of Y/N widened slowly, her mouth turned into the shape of an ‘o’, wind ruffled the brown hair of the man and the blue veil lifted only for the Mandalorian to see that Eli had, in fact, no eyes at all. 

This revelation shocked Din more than it should. But what shocked him the most: Y/N sucked in a breath and when the man whose species he couldn’t name right now took his hand away, the wound was gone. He blinked. A memory crossed his mind.

His child did the same thing. A few months ago. He lifted his head to watch Eli closely and the man exhaled and started to smile. This person had just saved her from dying in his arms. 

“Still got it”, he whispered and Y/N whose expression had turned from pained to baffled laughed disbelievingly. Her chest heaved and even though her body was healed she still looked like she just survived a deadly injury. 

Her fingers gripped Din’s tighter and she turned her head slightly to face him. Maybe it was because the sun had already set but her eyes looked so beautiful right now it took his breath. The way she stared at him, stars. The relief that washed over him turned his whole body into jelly. He weakly fell on his ass and leaned back, his hand never leaving hers. 

His tone was stunned when he whispered: “Mand’alor, I thought that was the end of the beginning.”

He said it in a low voice but both of the others heard him.

“The beginning of what?”

Y/N’s eyes were full of innocence and Din was too shaken up to get embarrassed when Eli responded jokingly instead of him:

“Your relationship.”

But the reaction of the smuggler made his heart flutter. Her cheeks flushed and she stuttered wide-eyed:

“Wa-What? What are you saying, Eli?!”

She looked between the two men but both of them looked away. Din out of shock because of her strong reaction and the other because he felt a slight headache. 

Y/N realized immediately that something was wrong.

“You okay? I thought you said you wouldn’t use the force anymore?”

The Mandalorian perked up, while Eli waved his hand.

“I just saved your ass, might as well be grateful, don’t you think?”

His teasing undertone couldn’t hide his exhaustion but the Twi’lek didn’t seem like she wanted to point it out. She wanted to say something else but a voice interrupted her. 

“My, what do we have here? Captain L/N what happened?”

It was spoken in Huttese and Din turned around alarmed. On the hill behind the shooter stood a male Weequay. The newcomer looked surprised seeing the smuggler lying on the floor, two men hovering over her and holding her close to them. 

“We had run into some problem, but”, responded Eli and shot a glance to the trees where a stiff body laid, “we got rid of it.”

“Do you need medical attention?” 

Din guessed that this was a customer and the reason why Y/N and Eli were even here. The fact that the man seemed rather friendly surprised him quite a bit. 

“Thank you, but there is no need. When will Taro arrive?”

How the woman could just go into business-mode after almost getting killed, was a wonder to him, but it also raised her even higher in his eyes. Stars, what just happened?

-

After that, they had somehow wrapped up the deal with Taro and her eyes almost filled with tears of happiness when she received the credits who would buy the freedom of her little girl. 

The Mandalorian watched over her like a hawk during the talk and even though they really didn’t know each other at all, she didn’t mind at all. In fact, it felt natural. When she remembered his presence next to her, she smiled. 

Taro had left and they decided to ride back on their speeders. Eli insisted on her riding with Mando and even though she had glared at him, she silently praised him when she held onto the sturdy frame of the man. She had leaned her head on his back and she could sense how his heartbeat sped up, which caused her to crack a smile.

Their meeting had started shitty but it turned out well if you forget the fact that she had almost died. But who cared about that. If she pondered over every little thing or accident that happened in her life she would have already died from sadness. 

She remembered how it had all begun. How her thoughts were invaded by the Mandalorian. 

When they first met, she had looked at him longingly. The way he was able to hold his child while she couldn’t hold hers. It made her jealous. A reaction that was unreasonable but natural for her. Every parent she had met caused this feeling. But with him it was different. There was something else. 

An appeal she hadn’t been able to name. But when he had held her hand during her “time of dying” she realized what she felt. 

“You know... The thing you said before. It kinda sounded like a love confession wouldn’t you say?”, she told him when they dismounted the speeders at a landing bay where the Icarus stood and both men had turned around to face her.

He had stiffened and she noticed that she might really like to tease him. Eli rolled his eyes and walked past behind her to get to the ship. 

It was then that an invisible force caused her to lose her balance and she tumbled into Mando’s arms. She knew immediately who made this accident happen but she got distracted by the strong arms that caught her and held her close to the man’s chest. Damn, he really was hot. Her cheeks began to burn and she averted her eyes. 

“S-Sorry...”

He only grunted and put her back on her feet. Her hands lingered on his chest a little longer than intended but he didn’t comment on it.

“It’s fine.” Fine. Great. Absolutely perfect.

Din’s chest was feeling light and he felt a sudden urge to talk to his Ad’ika and tell him about what he encountered today.

“Oh.”

He remembered the child he had left on the Razor Crest and when he looked to the Horizon he saw the setting sun. Fuck.

“My boy”, was all he could say while he stood there frozen. 

“You forgot your child?”

Y/N didn’t hide her teasing undertone at all but her face showed a slightly worried expression. 

“He’s still on the ship, I didn’t want him to come with me on the bounty hun...”, he trailed off and his head turned to watch her. She tilted hers.

“So you really were chasing after me, huh?”

He ignored the ambiguous words and lowered his eyes. Guilt burned in his heart and he seriously worried that she would hold this against him.

“I didn’t know it was you. I apologize. I would’ve never accepted it if I had known it was you.”

The way he said you made her chest tingle and she raised an eyebrow and the corner of her lips. She stepped closer to him, sudden confidence coursing through her veins.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t chase me?”

She twisted his words in his mouth and he knew but damn, it attracted him even more to her. He also liked the way she smirked, it made her look alluring. 

“No, I’m saying that I would never chase you if it meant you have to die at the end of it.” 

The seriousness in his voice caused her e/c eyes to soften. They turned into crescents and in a swift motion, she grabbed his hand, stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his helmet.

“Well, then you better be happy that my best friend can use the force!”

He couldn’t even react, she already scurried inside the Icarus laughing.

Din stood there dumbfounded for a moment. Heat crept up his neck and his cheeks flushed. 

“Shit... What is that woman doing to me?”

He didn’t know if he was happier about the kiss or about the fact that Eli apparently was only a friend and she seemed to welcome his advances but one thing was clear: Today was a good day. 

The comlink inside his palm was proof. He clenched his fist in victory and stood there for a second before turning around to return to his child and tell him about that one woman.

What he didn’t know...

“So you gave him our channel?”

Y/N nodded, her whole face still hot but she grinned from ear to ear. 

“And you kissed him?”

“Not a real Mandalorian kiss, of course, but who knows what’s next.”

The smuggler winked at him and passed the Miraluka. Eli laughed and pressed the button to close the ship. With the force, he was able to see the dust that the Mandalorian’s speeder kicked up. 

“Who knows what’s next...”, he mumbled and when he turned around he reached out to the force connection and told the little boy that everything was fine with his father. He was on his way home and had many things to tell.

--------

End Note: Wohooo, second part finished yaaay :D Actually I feel like this one is a little rushed. For me it’s like the reader is suddenly shot, Din is like D: and then Eli swoops in to save the day but I was rewriting that part 3 times and in the end just left it like that xD Also, was it a plot twist that Y/N also has a child? I wanted for her to have a reason why she became a smuggler but this will be adressed in the last part. Also, also, there wasn’t that much “action” as in romantic stuff at all but I wanted to leave that for the last part, since these idiots seriously only met twice... But yeahhh, hope you enjoyed it anyway :)

---------

Part I, Part III [Coming soon]

#star wars #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x fem reader #the mandalorian x reader #fanficsforheartandsoul #fem reader #twi'lek #x fem!reader #fanfic #baby yoda #din djarin #miraluka #jedi #mandalorian #bounty hunter #smuggler

[newstfionline]

Monday, January 18, 2021

Post Trump, Republicans Are Headed for a Bitter Internal Showdown (NYT) As President Trump prepares to leave office with his party in disarray, Republican leaders including Senator Mitch McConnell are maneuvering to thwart his grip on the G.O.P. in future elections, while forces aligned with Mr. Trump are looking to punish Republican lawmakers and governors who have broken with him. The friction is already escalating in several key swing states. They include Arizona, where Trump-aligned activists are seeking to censure the Republican governor they deem insufficiently loyal to the president, and Georgia, where a hard-right faction wants to defeat the current governor in a primary election.

The wrong ID (Washington Post) As a violent mob stormed the U.S. Capitol, retired Chicago firefighter David Quintavalle was about 700 miles away, shopping at an Aldi grocery store for the final ingredients for his wife’s birthday dinner. The 63-year-old’s mind was on the menu—filet mignon and lobster—and not insurrection. But a man resembling Quintavalle with salt-and-pepper hair and a “CFD”-labeled beanie was among the rioters. In a video, the man pelted police with a fire extinguisher, striking at least one officer. In the days following the attack, Internet sleuths who have hunted down those who participated in the Jan. 6 riot mistook the man for Quintavalle. Soon, people were calling Quintavalle’s cell and home phone, harassing his son, a Chicago police officer with the same name, and lurking outside Quintavalle’s home. Online amateur investigators have identified and shared information on social media about people in photos and videos at the Capitol, leading to a portion of the more than 100,000 tips submitted to the FBI. The hurried pace of new information has also increased the dissemination of incorrect names and targeting the wrong people. The victims of such false accusations include martial artist and actor Chuck Norris. A photo circulated online of his doppelganger among those storming the Capitol. The baseless speculation was shot down by his manager. Federal authorities allege the man who threw the fire extinguisher is Robert Lee Sanford Jr., 55, a recently retired firefighter from Chester, Pa. But Quintavalle still receives hateful calls and messages calling him a “murder” and “terrorist.” A police officer is stationed outside Quintavalle’s home for his safety.

Pre-inauguration jitters (Washington Post) The nation is holding its breath as state capitals around the country brace for possible violence in the coming days. State officials are activating National Guard troops and closing off Capitol grounds in response to F.B.I. warnings that armed protesters and far-right groups are preparing to act in the days leading up to President-elect Joe Biden’s inauguration on Wednesday. Law enforcement officials are vetting hundreds of potential airplane passengers and beefing up airport security. Federal officials say a militarized “green zone” in downtown Washington is necessary to prevent an attack from domestic extremists. Because of security concerns and the pandemic, Inauguration Day will be more subdued than usual.

U.S. pundits keep comparing Washington to a war zone. People who know war disagree. (Washington Post) A massive security operation is underway in Washington ahead of President-elect Biden’s inauguration on Wednesday, two weeks after a pro-Trump mob stormed the Capitol. As images of National Guard troops circulate online, some in the United States have compared the capital to a war zone. The commentary has drawn pushback from people who have lived or worked in areas actually beset by conflict, who say such remarks are misleading and trivializes the reality of war. “It’s extremely degrading to people who have actually lived through war and foreign occupation and have actually seen tanks rolling down their streets and foreign soldiers occupying their land or their own soldiers deployed against them,” said Jasmine el-Gamal, a former Pentagon adviser who worked in Iraq as a translator following the U.S. invasion in 2003. “That’s a conflict situation. That’s a war zone.” Faysal Itani, an adjunct professor of Middle East politics at George Washington University, called conditions in Washington “qualitatively different” from conflicts in places like Lebanon, where he is from, and elsewhere in the Middle East. Americans, Itani said, often view their country in one of two modes: “It’s either a pristine place … that somehow functions according to different rules” than the rest of the world, “or it turns out it’s imperfect and we’re back in Baghdad.”

Biden Seeks Quick Start With Executive Actions and Aggressive Legislation (NYT) President-elect Joseph R. Biden Jr., inheriting a collection of crises unlike any in generations, plans to open his administration with dozens of executive directives on top of expansive legislative proposals in a 10-day blitz. Mr. Biden’s team has developed a raft of decrees that he can issue on his own authority after the inauguration on Wednesday to begin reversing some of President Trump’s most hotly disputed policies. On his first day in office alone, Mr. Biden intends a flurry of executive orders that will be partly substantive and partly symbolic. They include rescinding the travel ban on several predominantly Muslim countries, rejoining the Paris climate change accord, extending pandemic-related limits on evictions and student loan payments, issuing a mask mandate for federal property and interstate travel and ordering agencies to figure out how to reunite children separated from families after crossing the border. The blueprint of executive action comes after Mr. Biden announced that he will push Congress to pass a $1.9 trillion package of economic stimulus and pandemic relief, signaling a willingness to be aggressive on policy issues.

Leaders in Mexico and Poland look to curb power of social media giants after Trump bans (Washington Post) In the aftermath of President Trump’s banishment from social media platforms, including Facebook and Twitter, a handful of world leaders have expressed alarm over the power of private companies to decide if and when to ban elected leaders from key parts of the public arena. At least two ruling governments—on the left wing in Mexico and the right in Poland—have since suggested pursuing policies to prevent what happened to Trump. In Mexico, President Andrés Manuel López Obrador said Thursday in a daily briefing shared on social media that his government would reach out to other G-20 nations to seek a joint proposal on such bans, which he compared to the “Spanish Inquisition.” In Poland, meanwhile, the conservative-led government is pushing a draft “Freedom of Speech” law, first announced last month, that would regulate speech restrictions on social media. Without mentioning Trump, Prime Minister Mateusz Morawiecki likened the power of the social media companies to state control in the country during the Communist era. Sebastian Kaleta, Poland’s deputy minister of justice, said in an interview this week that the Trump bans “could even be called censorship.”

Mexico’s female vigilantes (NY Post) The Michoacan area of Mexico has gotten so lawless, a band of female vigilantes are taking it upon themselves to protect their friends and family. The state, which is the world’s largest supplier of avocados and limes, has recently been overrun by the violent Jalisco drug cartel that hail from the neighboring state and so the women are fighting back, according to The Associated Press. The women carry assault rifles and post roadblocks, often while pregnant or carrying small children with them, to combat the growing homicide levels, which have skyrocketed since 2013. The majority of the women have lost family members to the cartel, like Blanco Nava who told the AP her son Freddy Barrios, a 29-year old lime picker, was kidnapped by presumed Jalisco cartel gunmen in pickup trucks; she has never heard from him since. “We are going to defend those we have left, the children we have left, with our lives. We women are tired of seeing our children, our families disappear. They take our sons, they take our daughters, our relatives, our husbands.” It is left to the women to fight as most men are being carted away to work for the cartels (willingly or not). The vigilantes say they have to resort to these tactics as the government and police fail to do so.

Guatemala cracks down on migrant caravan bound for United States (Reuters) Guatemalan authorities on Saturday escalated efforts to stop thousands of Hondurans, many of them families with children, traveling in a migrant caravan bound for the United States just as a new administration is about to enter the White House. Between 7,000 and 8,000 migrants have entered Guatemala since Friday, according to Guatemala’s immigration authority, fleeing poverty and violence in a region battered by the pandemic and back-to-back hurricanes in November. Videos seen by Reuters showed Guatemalan security forces clashing with a group of hundreds of migrants who managed to break through a police blockade at the village of Vado Hondo, near Chiquimula in eastern Guatemala. Between Friday and Saturday, Guatemala had sent back almost 1,000 migrants entering from Honduras, the government said, as the caravan moved towards Mexico.

England Isn’t Listening to Johnson’s Lockdown Orders Any More (Bloomberg) People across England are about to be hit with a deluge of new government adverts on television, radio and social media containing one blunt demand: Stay at home. It’s a familiar message—and that may be why the public seems to be shrugging it off. The data shows Britons are far more active during the current third national lockdown than when the first emergency “stay at home” order was given last spring. There’s more traffic on the roads, more people on trains and more shoppers making trips out. The picture is not unique to the U.K. Elsewhere in Europe, people have grown tired of wave after wave of restrictions. What makes England different is that even from the start, the messaging was mixed from a government that was reluctant to curb people’s liberties. In Spain and Italy, which imposed harsh lockdowns from the beginning, entire families became accustomed to living with life-altering restrictions. In Madrid and Milan, everyone wears a mask outside, and children must wear them at school. In London, face coverings outdoors are still optional. But in recent surveys people insist they are still following the rules. Stephen Reicher, a U.K. government adviser and professor of social psychology at the University of St Andrews, dismissed the concept of lockdown “fatigue” as a way for the authorities to shift the blame onto the public.

Switzerland to Hold Referendum on Covid-19 Lockdown (WSJ) Switzerland’s system of direct democracy will be put to the test again later this year, this time with a referendum on whether to roll back the government’s powers to impose lockdowns and other measures to slow the Covid-19 pandemic. The landlocked Alpine nation of 8.5 million people is unusual in providing its people a say on important policy moves by offering referendums if enough people sign a petition for a vote. Last year, Swiss voted on increasing the stock of low-cost housing, tax allowances for children and hunting wolves. The idea is to provide citizens a check on the power of the federal government, and it is a throwback to the fiercely independent patchwork of cantons, or districts, that were meshed in the medieval period. Now, the country is set for a referendum on whether to remove the government’s legal authority to order lockdowns and other pandemic restrictions after campaigners submitted a petition of some 86,000 signatures this week—higher than the 50,000 required—triggering a nationwide vote to repeal last year’s Covid-19 Act. The ballot could come as soon as June, and it appears set to mirror disputes in the U.S. and elsewhere over how far governments should go to limit social interactions in a pandemic—or whether to lock down at all.

Gunmen kill two female Supreme Court judges in Afghanistan (Reuters) Unidentified gunmen killed two female judges from Afghanistan’s Supreme Court on Sunday morning, police said, adding to a wave of assassinations in Kabul and other cities while government and Taliban representatives have been holding peace talks in Qatar. Government officials, journalists, and activists have been targeted in recent months, stoking fear particularly in the capital Kabul. The Taliban has denied involvement in some of the attacks, but has said its fighters would continue to “eliminate” important government figures, though not journalists or civil society members.

Israel OKs hundreds of settlement homes in last-minute push (AP) Israeli authorities on Sunday advanced plans to build an additional 780 homes in West Bank settlements, an anti-settlement monitoring group said, in a last-minute surge of approvals before the friendly Trump administration leaves office later this week. Peace Now said that over 90% of the homes lay deep inside the West Bank, which the Palestinians seek as the heartland of a future independent state, and over 200 homes were located in unauthorized outposts that the government had decided to legalize. Israel has stepped up settlement construction during President Donald Trump’s term. According to Peace Now, Israel approved or advanced construction of over 12,000 settlement homes in 2020, the highest number in a single year since it began recording statistics in 2012.

Starvation haunts Ethiopia’s Tigray (AP) From “emaciated” refugees to crops burned on the brink of harvest, starvation threatens the survivors of more than two months of fighting in Ethiopia’s Tigray region. The first humanitarian workers to arrive after pleading with the Ethiopian government for access describe weakened children dying from diarrhea after drinking from rivers. Shops were looted or depleted weeks ago. A local official told a Jan. 1 crisis meeting of government and aid workers that hungry people had asked for “a single biscuit.” More than 4.5 million people, nearly the region’s entire population, need emergency food, participants say. At their next meeting on Jan. 8, a Tigray administrator warned that without aid, “hundreds of thousands might starve to death” and some already had, according to minutes obtained by The Associated Press. “There is an extreme urgent need—I don’t know what more words in English to use—to rapidly scale up the humanitarian response because the population is dying every day as we speak,” Mari Carmen Vinoles, head of the emergency unit for Doctors Without Borders, told the AP.

Children’s Screen Time Has Soared in the Pandemic, Alarming Parents and Researchers (NYT) Nearly a year into the coronavirus pandemic, parents across the country—and the world—are watching their children slide down an increasingly slippery path into an all-consuming digital life. When the outbreak hit, many parents relaxed restrictions on screens as a stopgap way to keep frustrated, restless children entertained and engaged. But, often, remaining limits have vaporized as computers, tablets and phones became the centerpiece of school and social life, and weeks of stay-at-home rules bled into nearly a year. The situation is alarming parents, and scientists too. “There will be a period of epic withdrawal,” said Keith Humphreys, a professor of psychology at Stanford University, an addiction expert and a former senior adviser to President Barack Obama on drug policy. It will, he said, require young people to “sustain attention in normal interactions without getting a reward hit every few seconds.” Scientists say that children’s brains, well through adolescence, are considered “plastic,” meaning they can adapt and shift to changing circumstances. That could help younger people again find satisfaction in an offline world but it becomes harder the longer they immerse in rapid-fire digital stimulation.

#headlines #news

[duker42]

(1/2) I really liked the professor Levi & y/n idea, so.. Y/N is a student in Levi's class, and she has fallen in love with her stoic, moody prof Ackerman. He is often harsh with his words and grading, & is indifferent towards her, but Y/N doesnt mind, she still gives him her kind, shy smile & greets him each day. Y/n gets a particularly bad grade with harsh remarks on an assignment, & stays after class to talk to her prof, she tries to ask him for a re-do & accidentally...

💜Professor Ackerman💜

Y/N started at the paper in her hand. It was slashed with red marker, covering entire sections of her paper. At the top, a big D was underlined and a note scrawled in hurried penmanship. “A blind retarded monkey could do better.”

That was Professor Ackerman, rude to a fault. She knew that it wasn’t some of her best work, she had written it on little sleep at the last minute due to a family emergency. Maybe the professor would let her redo the work.

He was a hard teacher, his literature class not for the faint of heart. He was often called a heartless bastard by those that had taken or were taking his classes. Quick to call someone out and brutally eviscerate them in the middle of a lecture, the short statured man was a formidable figure.

Still, Y/N didn’t care much about that. The raven haired man appealed to her, even if he didn’t know that she was breathing. She still makes an effort to greet him when entering his lecture room and anytime she had to look directly at him, she would give him a gentle smile. She wasn’t afraid of him, despite his fierce bark.

She stayed behind when the class was dismissed wanting to talk to him about the paper. “Um, professor?”

“What is it?” He didn’t look up as he continued packing his messenger back to leave. She knew he had office hours coming up and was due to head back to his cramped office.

“I was hoping that I could redo the paper. Sir...I mean...” Her words faltered a bit as he lifted his grey eyes up to stare into her soul it seemed. “Wow....they’re really pretty.” Her eyes widened as she realized what she had just said.

Levi snorted as he glared at the girl. “Listen, you wouldn’t be the first brat that thought batting pretty eyes, or offering a quick fuck would get a better grade.”

“No! It’s not that at all....I like....” She trailed off, his face becoming even more unpleasant.

“Yeah, right. Because I’m the epitome of charm. Go suck someone else off and leave me alone, the grade stands. You wanted a better GPA? Actually do the fucking work.” He watched as her eyes watered a bit and she turned red.

“T-thank you s-sir. I-I’ll go. B-bye” Y/N turns and flees, certain that she never felt more humiliated in her life.

~~~~~

The next day she still walked into the classroom and greeted him, surprising him significantly. She still smiled, but there was sadness behind her eyes. Y/N sat down and got her laptop out to take notes.

Levi noticed that when his eyes drifted over to her side of the room, she didn’t look away, but her face fell just a bit. Not that he was noticing a brat like her. He had never spent more time looking at her than he should. It was nothing more than the fact that she was sitting in a seat that perfectly aligned with his roaming eyes.

He had been harsh with her, perhaps too harsh. He knew that she wasn’t offering anything like he accused her of. But he needed to get away from those eyes and that smile before he did something stupid, especially when she practically told him that she liked him.

The rest of the week was the same. She still greeted him and said goodbye, but the melancholy in her eyes was driving him insane. He had never had someone that seemed to genuinely care. There had been plenty of students that want to sleep with the Professor, it seemed to be a kink among the college age girls. That was a mess that he steered clear of, not wanting to be caught up in the drama and headache.

But Y/N reaction was strange, not seeming to want anything but grump, ill tempered him. And that was something he wasn’t used to. By the time that he had dismissed her class of Friday, he knew that he needed to go have a stiff drink or twelve to forget the weird week and realign his own priorities.

~~~~~

He didn’t go to a bar near the campus, wanting to stay well away from the moronic brats as they drank away what little brain cells they had left. He shook his head at their ability to drink continuously day after day and show up to class bright eyed. It must be his age catching up with him. Not that he was old, but 10 years made a big difference in his recovery period.

When he entered the bar he didn’t notice her at first. It wasn’t until he had sat down and looked for the bartender did he groan in consternation. It seemed that whatever Gods were in the universe were fucking with him. At the other end of the bar, behind the counter, stood Y/N in a tank top and tight jeans, seemingly reading a text book.

Levi though he could slip away before she recognized she had a customer, but she looked up at that moment. Shit. He was now stuck. She welcomed him with that sad smile and muted greeting that had driven him to drink in the first place.

She left him alone for the most part, the bar was empty save for a few old timers in seats that probably had their names carved into them. She checked on his drink levels and got him refills when necessary and returned to her text book when there was nothing else to do. He noticed how she leaned over and propped her elbows on the bar while she read, sticking her ass out and shifting her weight ever so often.

He knew that the time had passed as the drinks were steadily coming. Still he didn’t think of leaving as he observed her. He had figured out that she was pretty damn studious and admired that about her. Weren’t too many brats that would be studying a text book on a Friday when she could be out partying.

Last call came sooner than he expected and when the bar closed down he was still there, waiting. When he stood up, the drinks in his system hit him like a freight train and he remembered Y/N calling his name before blacking out.

~~~~~

He woke up to a pounding head and a dry, disgusting mouth. He felt like he had been dragged through a sewer and come out only after drowning. As he adjusted to the light in the room, he realized he was in his house, but he had no idea how he got there.

His bladder was screaming at him, so he stumbled to the bathroom to take care of the one issue, while praying his head wouldn’t explode from the movement. When he was done he gulped down a handful of aspirin and crawled into the shower, hoping the hot water would clear his head somewhat.

He emerged feeling slightly human. Dressing, he went to walk into the kitchen to see about finding something to help the rolling of his stomach when he stopped and stared at his couch.

Y/N was sleeping on it. She had removed her jeans that were laying over the end and was in only the tank top from the night before an a pair of enticing panties. The blanket she had used was over half of her body, with her lean leg thrown out. It made such an innocent yet erotic picture that he felt himself get hard. He had no idea why Y/N would be sleeping on his couch, but he didn’t want to wake her right now before he had managed to get some caffeine in his system.

It turned out that the smell of coffee was like a lure to bring Y/N to him. She had stumbled into the kitchen, her sleepy smile making his heart race, and that still semi hard cock twitch in his sweatpants. She was still too tired to remember to give him the sad smile, but he had gotten a glimpse of what it would be like to wake up with her.

He handed her a mug of coffee and she accepted it with another one of those ‘I’m not awake’ smiles. He really liked those, making him sad to see her starting to wake up as the coffee entered her system.

“So, what happened last night?” Levi ventured.

“Apparently you don’t show any affects of alcohol until it all hits you at once. You were a bit out of it, so I brought you home and stayed to keep an eye on you.” Levi felt his face heat up as he realized he had probably made a complete ass of himself in front of his student. But she didn’t seem to be lording it over his head. She had just taken care of him.

She finished her coffee and took it over to his sink. He watched as she washed out the mug, her hips swaying slightly as she moved, washing the cup and setting it in the drying rack. She wiped her hands and turn back to him, awake enough now to have that sad smile back in her eyes as she met his.

“Well, I better go.....You’re alright now.” Y/N went to walk past him, headed. Back to the living room to put her pants and shoes on. To walk out and pretend that this hadn’t happened.

His hand shot out from where he was sitting and encircled her wrist. She stopped when he tugged lightly and looked down at him. His eyes were dark, almost angry looking and she wondered if he was angry at her. She hadn’t thought so when he handed her the cup of coffee but she didn’t really function before one cup.

“It’s really just me?” His words were low, almost mumbled as he looked at her. She wasn’t really sure what he meant, but she watched curiously as he stood and drew closer.

“It’s not for a grade, or a quick fuck for bragging rights?” He asked, his darkened eyes searching hers.

She shook her head and watched as his gaze lowered to her lips, his own parted in interest as his tongue slipped out to moisten them.

“Fuck.” Levi cursed as he gave in and pulled her to him. The first kiss was messy, needy as his mouth covered hers ravenously. He didn’t even care that she hadn’t brushed her teeth as his tongue swept into her mouth to taste the coffee off of her tongue.

Y/N felt on fire as he let go of her wrist to slid his hand under her tank top to rest on her ribcage. He surprisingly calloused hand was right below her breast and she felt her nipples harden as goose flesh covered her.

He pulled back and looked at her flushed and wanton face. His grey orbs staring into hers as he asked the question he needed answering. Y/N’s eyes no longer had that sadness in them as she nodded at him, saying that she wanted him. He groaned and pulled her quickly through the house and back to the bedroom.

He got to the dresser and turned around, backing her up against it and lifting her to sit on it’s bare surface. His grey eyes were hungry when he pulled back.

She pulled him back for another kiss and he felt himself give in, leaning forward and not resisting like he wanted to. She had spread her legs on either side of his waist, letting him closer to the scantily clad heat he wanted to taste, touch and fill.

Her hands were under his shirt, hot steaks of fire to his system wherever her fingertips touched. He pulled back so she could lift it off his head. As soon as his chest was bare, she was attacking it. Kissing and lightly biting whatever flesh she could reach, it made him close his eyes, the blood pumping furiously in his veins.

He rolled up her tank top and pulled it off. She had perfect breasts for cupping, his hands filling with the mounds. The stiff peaks sensitive as she bit down a touch harder when he grazed on with his thumb.

His very prominent erection tenting through his sweatpants was ground against her as she wiggled towards the edge of the dresser and rotated her hips against him. His loud groan matched hers as they both enjoyed the feeling. Levi hadn’t had too many woman that were as unabashedly eager as Y/N was, preferring to play that boring role of innocence and cluelessness. The forward nature of her hands on him and her wants being communicated was intoxicating.

“Fuck. Just do it.” Y/N muttered as she moved her lips up his neck and back to his mouth.

He needed no more words of encouragement. He yanked her hips forward, and drew her panties down, moving to slide them completely off. She watched with interest as he kicked off his sweatpants and his cock was exposed. He saw the flash of heat and anticipation in her eyes, stroking his ego as he moved back towards her.

He was so used to be in charge, but this girl, this student of his was completely unraveling him as she encompassed his aching cock with her warm hand to guide it to her wetness. He felt the blunt tip nudge the velvety slick entrance and he lifted his eyes to her to watch as he slid inside her.

Her eyes fluttered closed, her hand shot up to grab on to his shoulders as she released a throaty little moan that did nothing to cool the lust in his blood. She fit him perfectly, tight heat surrounding him deliciously as he started to move.

His thrusts weren’t gentle they were demanding and deep. Y/N felt him trying to fill every possible space inside her as he pounded into her. She loved every bit of it. Her legs hooked around him and she pulled him closer as her hips moved against him. His fingers tightened, digging into the soft skin of her thighs as he used them for leverage.

She was addicting, her body perfectly in sync with his as they moved, taking from each other as they gave pleasure. His hands moved to her ass as he lifted her, still moving inside her, to bring her to the bed.

Once there, he took over. He moved her legs onto his shoulders as he watched her beneath him. He could tell the moment he hit the right spot because her eyes shot opened and his name filled the room. He angled his hips to drive into that same spot over and over again as she clutched at him, scratching red welts down his arms and chest.

She was going to break soon, her breaths catching with each snap of his hips, her walls clenching around him. He gritted his teeth and continued to push into her, driving her closer until she finally shattered around him.

He held his breath as she tightened even further around him, her muscles squeezing him to where it was almost painful. He throbbed as he felt his own end coming close.

She was still cumming as he lowered her legs and slid his arms around her. He pushed his hips towards and hovered as his body tensed, his release intense as he shuddered over her.

She moaned as she felt him fill her, the heat adding to her pleasure as stroked his back while he came. She lifted up and pressed her lips to his collarbone as he grunted her name into her ear.

They fell to the bed together, exhausted and boneless from the high they just experienced. Levi rolled to the side and looked at the small tired smile on her face. He knew that he wasn’t going to push this girl away again, but he couldn’t help his next remark.

“A fucking plus for the sex Y/N, but your paper is still shit. The D stands.”

Y/N laughed as she pinched his side. He chuckled as he leaned over and kissed her again. She could live with a bad grade if it meant she got to have him.

Mobile MasterList

#shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #levi ackerman #captain levi #snk levi #aot fanfiction #levi aot #snk x reader #aot x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi modern au #levi ackerman modern au

[dzamie-oc]

Smaugust 21 - Hydra

While the dragon's away, the kobolds will... commit shenanigans. (1908 words)

Just outside of a wide, rocky cave, a dozen distraught kobolds of all sorts of horns and colors surrounded a blue-scaled dragon. Four kobolds sat patiently in bags hanging off the dragon's side, along with several of his favorite things.

"I'll just be gone a week or two," he said in a soft voice that clashed with his outward appearance of tough scales and sharp claws, "the festival is not something I want to miss, and I can take the opportunity to start these four on their new task." The little lizards in the bags chirped their enthusiasm.

A teal kobold with short, rounded horns approached. "But what if someone comes to steal from your hoard?" she asked.

"Then you shall stop them," came his calm answer. "The VitAzurel den does a fine job working together; why, losing a kobold is rare for us, AND it's rather uncommon for me to have to face adventurers, myself, unless I particularly want to." The dragon turned and carefully stepped over a couple of his kobolds, preparing to take off. "Oh, and if - not when, but if - you do lose a part of my hoard, make sure to note what the thieves look like. I'm much more lenient on a full stomach, after all." With that, he sprang off of powerful legs, flapping his broad, blue wings to soar towards the nearest friendly town.

The twelve remaining kobolds looked at each other. "So... we have our assignment," started the teal one, "we just need to figure out how to guard our lord's hoard."

"A dragon's hoard is best guarded by a dragon," a white-scaled one pointed out, only for a red one to interrupt, "but Azurel isn't here, and another dragon might try to claim it for themselves. So his hoard can't be guarded by a dragon."

They chatted amongst themselves, offering ideas for traps and encounters to dissuade or kill adventurers. While several were accepted as helpful minor things, and more were discarded out of hand, the kobolds couln't quite come up with anything big. Nothing could beat a dragon guarding a hoard.

Just before the den was going to return, fruitless in finding an idea to protect Azurel's hoard, the black-scaled kobold gasped. The others turned to see a big, eager, sharp-toothed smile on his muzzle. "Guys, what if... what if WE were the dragon protecting his hoard?"

There was a brief period of assorted muttering before the teal kobold came up and placed her hand on his shoulder, two pairs of yellow eyes locked onto each other. "...we're kobolds. We're not dragons. There is a truly insurmountable difference between us and Lord Azurel, and us and other dragons, even though he IS exceptionally amazing." Several kobolds behind her nodded as sagely as they could manage.

The black kobold shook his head, still smiling. "No, not an actual dragon. But Azurel encourages us to be sneaky and tricky to keep unfair fights in our favor, right?" There was a general murmur of agreement, so he continued, "so, we're small, and dragons are big, but there's at least ten of us, and we're scaly like dragons."

"And we have tails, too!" a green kobold helpfully offered from the back of the group.

"So, what if we trick adventurers that we, together, are one dragon?" the kobold continued, undaunted, "we have scaly, we have big, and they'll be expecting a dragon so they'll totally believe us!" His tail whipped back and forth in excitement. This got the group talking, some of them planning out a costume, others just gossipping about the mimic that Teal was getting to be a little too close friends with.

"We don't have a breath weapon or wings!" one pointed out, but another called out, "multiple heads! Our fake dragon's breath weapon will be more bites than a silly adventurer coul possibly imagine!" A cheer went up, and, invigorated, the den of kobolds hurried back into the depths of Azurel's lair to work on the disguise.

---

The white-scaled kobold pushed away from her part of the costume, dangling from the ceiling by a rope. "Okay, how's this?"

The green, black, and teal kobolds wriggled into position, drawing the aperture of the necks closed around their own. They looked at each other and tested out their controls, wiggling the heads around and occasionally bumping into each other, then grinned. "Functional and sturdy! I swear, Raktor," the green one said, "if I didn't see you make this in front of me, I'd think you had done some magic on it to get it to work so well!"

Teal turned around and called down to the body disguise, comprised of a kobold per leg, plus one to move the tail. "How's it working down there, guys?" She got several chirps of approval, and the fake, three-headed dragon took a step forward to test. More chirps. "Great! This is coming together really w-"

Suddenly, the group was interrupted by a pink kobold slipping out from one of their small kobold tunnels. "Intruder alert!" he called out, "a human traveler is in the lair!"

The green kobold gasped. "A human traveler is in the lair?" The kobolds looked at each other, gauging how ready they were for their first test of their dragon costume.

"Protect the hoard!" the pink one loudly reminded them.

"We must protect the hoard!" the green kobold relayed, and the eight dragon-bolds maneuvered between the entrance tunnel and the start of Azurel's huge cache of gold, gems, and other shiny things. The other four grabbed weapons and retreated into ambush points, waiting for the interloper to make an appearance.

Instead of the menacing adventurer, armed to the teeth, that they had expected, a young woman with curly, brown hair in a yellow sundress stepped out, smiling brightly when she saw one of the hiding kobolds in his normal spot. "Hey, VitAzurels! It's Penny. Is your dragon around?"

The green kobold opened his mouth to answer, but the black one started faster and replied, "foolish human girl! Your adventure was futile! This Ah-shoo-rell you speak of does NO LONGER exist in this lair!" Hidden claws moved the kobold in a fake dragon neck closer, looming over her. "Now flee, flee before you face the wrath of TAM!" The pink kobold made eye contact with Teal and Raktor, silently assuring each other that nobody else knew that was what he was going to call the fake dragon.

The woman seemed amused by this show. "Oh, huh! I thought he'd be back by now. So, do you kobolds wanna hang out? Feels a shame to waste all the time I spent coming up here, and I'm in a very playful mood."

"SILENCE!" the black kobold shouted. "Do not waste your time here, Penny-girl, for we have clocks numerous and beyond your feeble human brain! And-"

"I don't think that's working," Teal said, "gotta be more direct." She turned to face Penny. "Look. Human. I'm Tam, the dragon who now lives in this lair and protects its treasure from humans."

"Yeah, but you guys know me. If I was going to steal from Azurel, I'd save all of us the time and effort, and just climb down his throat directly."

"I... don't know what 'guys' you speak of, strange human," Teal lied, poorly, "now leave, or I will eat you, as that is what we dragons do to humans who try to steal treasure."

"Okay, then, eat me."

The three kobolds blinked. "What?" they said in near unison.

Penny pointed at Teal. "Eat me. Send me down that throat and into that belly. I don't think you're a real dragon; prove me wrong."

The baffled kobolds looked at each other, then the black and green ones stared expectantly at the teal one. Her scaly hands gripped the controls for her neck disguise. "Uh... okay, then," she said, and dipped down towards Penny.

"Wait, what?" The human took a half-step back and froze in shock. Right when she was above Penny, Teal spun the lever letting her have a snug fit in the disguise. She let go of the controls, reache out, and pulled Penny under her body and into the disguise's neck, pushing her out of the way before taking the controls once more and lifting back up with her green and black denmates.

Penny slid smoothly down the costume's neck like it was a slide, in large part because it was a slide, until she came to a stop in the empty cavity where the leg and tail kobolds stared at her. The human looked at them, rolling onto her back to better see all of the kobolds. "Huh, and from here I guess you could start beating on an adventurer..." she mused, "clever. Anyway, so what do we do now?"

The red kobold glanced around. "Uh... we could undo one of the flaps and let you out through there, I guess." There was a level of tension in the costume that all six of them could sense, but none of the kobolds were willing to break it.

Fortunately for them, Penny was not one of the kobolds. "Let me rephrase, guys and girls. Ahem," she fake-cleared her throat before putting on an exaggerated voice, "oh, heavens me, here I am all alone, deep in a dragon's lair, and hopelessly surrounded by kobolds. I wonder what ever might happen next!"

Purrs and soft growls filled the base of the dragon costume as multiple sets of scaly hands went to grab at her clothes...

---

"...so we only got through her modeling, like, a quarter of the casual outfits you keep for princesses," Raktor explained to Azurel, "plus, when she left the first day, she suggested mixing and matching stuff, so that was us set for the rest of the week. Oh, and yesterday she and Jimothy came over for House-Rules Parcheesi, so Teal and Irnat are almost done cleaning that up."

The blue dragon lifted one of the necks of the limp costume in a paw, peering at the mechanism inside. "Well, I'm glad to see my creativity has been rubbing off on you," he said. "How'd this do versus an actual threat? Looks well-used by now."

Raktor fiddled with her horns, a little sheepish. "Well, actually, only two tried; one ate the brownie we helpfully labeled 'poison,' and the other got mimic'd. It looks worn because we all wanted a go at quote-unquote 'eating' Penny, and she liked the slide." The white-scaled kobold perked up with a wicked smirk as she recalled one more detail. "Oh, and Norak is now called Tam."

"Oh, that's a fun development. Who's best to ask about that?"

"Probably Teal. She and Vernda were closest to him when the thing happened, and Vernda..." she trailed off.

"Doesn't have a way with words," Azurel supplied. "I'll look forward to hearing it from her, then. Now be a dear and get a couple others to put away the bags and the sword Kassar no longer needs." He yawned as he walked through the wide main caves. "Oh, and see if one or two will volunteer for basic shining duty; I'll be napping after that long flight, so it's perfectly fine if they can't get much of my scales."

Raktor chirped and darted off through the kobold tunnels as everyone fell back into normal motion again, the absence of their dragon remedied and new memories passed around as gossip.

#dragon #smaugust #hydra #kobold #writing #writers on tumblr #smaugust 2020 #text #ocs #oc: azurel

[mobius-prime]

174. Sonic the Hedgehog #106

Crouching Hedgehog, Hidden Dragon (臣人豪猪臧龍)

Writer: Karl Bollers Pencils: Ron Lim Colors: Josh & Aimee Ray

Yes, there are actually Chinese characters included with the title of this issue. They were a real bitch to actually get copy-and-paste-able text for, since all I had to work off of was a slightly blurry scanned image of the title page, but my girlfriend helped me figure it out. I went ahead and ran the characters through Google Translate, and they came out to "Chén rén háozhū zāng lóng," which, when translated into English, apparently means "porcupine zanglong." Now, I'm well aware that Google Translate is unreliable at the best of times when translating Asian languages into English, but I have a feeling that it was trying to make sense out of nonsense, and that the artists/writers for this issue just kind of… found some cool-looking Chinese characters and slapped them in there to give it a more "exotic" feel. Anyone who can actually read Chinese, please feel free to correct me on this one, because I'm woefully ignorant. But why use Chinese characters in the first place? Well, let's move into the story to find out…

The Freedom Fighters have set out in their airship to Station Square on a diplomatic mission. However, their ship is buffeted by strange winds that nearly blow them off course and cause them to crash. When they land safely, Sally reminds them all to be on their best behavior, and they're met by a news crew to welcome their arrival.

When Sally and the others make their way into the city, they're met not by the mayor, but by the city's new president and his chiefs of staff, with whom they quickly sit down to a meeting. Sally explains her wish for the city to take in the Overlander refugees from Robotropolis, and when the mayor balks when he hears how many people he'd have to make room for - about seventy families - Sonic becomes outraged that he isn't immediately taking them in because it's the right thing to do.

That night, Sonic mopes a bit on the balcony of the hotel, still upset about the president's reaction, as well as concerned that despite Sally finally being a part of the team again, she doesn't seem very pleased about it. He's distracted by his friends calling him to go play at the arcade, but while he leaves, we see a strange snaky figure floating against a backdrop of stars behind him…

In his own office, the president is watching various footage of Sonic defeating the enemies of Station Square in the past - Chaos, Silver Sonic, and Shadow - and begins to wonder to himself if he should make a more permanent ally out of Sonic, despite his brash attitude. He doesn't have long to decide, as chaos suddenly erupts on the streets, flames chasing after fleeing citizens. The president considers calling for Sonic's aid, but true to his nature, Sonic is already there, staring down the source of the commotion - a massive Chinese dragon. Sally and Antoine rush to the president while Tails, Rotor, and Bunnie hurry to Sonic's aid, but they're not quite fast enough to help.

In his office, the president tries to insist to Sally that this is a bad place for refugees as there are now dragons attacking the city, but Sonic walks in, draped in a blanket and flanked by his friends, offering the president a deal - if he runs the dragon out of town and saves the city again, then they'll take in the refugees. The president finds this to be a fair deal, and accepts.

Now, instead of another character file, we find ourselves looking at another map - this time of Station Square itself!

I know that text is obnoxiously small to read, so I'll summarize it myself. Considering that Station Square in the comic is vastly different from its counterpart in the games, a lot of effort was certainly put into explaining exactly how it functions. Apparently, along with its supply of Chaos Emeralds, the city also runs off solar power collected from the top of the mountain it's buried underneath. It's surrounded by complex holographic projectors that simulate a sky and surrounding landscape, with the weather control systems maintaining a consistent 70°F or 21°C and simulating various weather conditions. All it needs to stay self-sufficient is contained within the enormous cavern, including all its farms. We already know the general history of the city, but this page includes the fact that the original founders sought shelter down here while fleeing from a catastrophe on the surface that is supposedly unknown, but is heavily implied to be one of the past Days of Fury, this one occurring five hundred years ago.

However, perhaps most interesting are the various technical statistics given for the city. Of course, they're all given in metrons, but that's no problem for us and our conversion formulas! There's a whopping 13.7 km, or 8.6 miles, from the surface of the city streets to the top of the cavern, which is again much higher than the peak of Mt. Everest. That's an enormous cavern! That is much, much deeper than the deepest known cave on Earth, but it's still somewhat plausible given that our planet's crust goes much deeper than that. And the file doesn't stop at height. Assuming the city is arranged in a vaguely square shape (we're never told or shown otherwise, and frankly that's the easiest way to calculate area, so that's what we're working with), the city's area is around 14,390.4 square km, or 5,625 square miles! That's a good bit bigger than the entire state of Connecticut, and around the same size as the country of Montenegro in Europe, for just one city! If it existed in the real world, it would be the largest city in the world by land area by a long shot. However, we have to assume that not all of it is dense metropolis. I'm going to go ahead and assume that this area measurement includes all the farms and emptier, less populated space that we see surrounding the actual city, meaning that the metropolis is likely more of a third or so that size going by the picture, making the actual city around the size of Atlanta, Georgia, which is the fourth-largest city in the world going by area. That's impressive!

As for the city's population, the file comes right out and tells us the exact number of individuals living there: 23,856,427 people. This kind of makes the president's worries about taking in a few hundred people seem a little silly, as there's surely more than enough room for everyone, as well as enough kind people within to offer help getting everyone settled in, but I digress. If Station Square existed in real life, that would make it the second largest city in the world, barely beating out Delhi, India, but still vastly outstripped by Tokyo, Japan. Now, I'm not an expert on calculating population density, as I know that it's very different depending on whether you're only counting the distinct urban center of the city, or the metropolitan area which includes the surrounding, less-dense areas, but I'm not entirely sure how to calculate such a thing accurately. All I know is that if we calculate the population density straight from our initial area (before I adjusted it), we get a density of 1,658 people per square km, or 4,241 people per square mile. That's a population density similar to that of Melbourne, Australia, and is actually fairly low compared to most real-world big cities. Just as a fun exercise, however, let's say that two-thirds of the city's population lives in the urban center, while the rest lives in the outlying farmland and suburbs. In that case, the city proper would end up with a density of 3,312 people per square kilometer, or 8,474 people per square mile, which, though almost twice as high, is still much less dense than the vast majority of large world cities. This would also give the outlying areas a density of 829 per square km, or 2,721 per square mile, which is comparable to the average density of modern American suburbs. I'm satisfied with these numbers! Unlike the disaster that was the file on the Floating Island, everything about this file actually makes sense and checks out with reality. And in the end, wasn't that what we all really wanted - for our Sonic the Hedgehog comics to be realistic?

Reunification (Part 1)

Writer: Ken Penders Pencils: Dawn Best Colors: Josh Ray

We're finally back to the Green Knuckles saga, and right away we're being thrown a curveball. On the streets of a cold, empty Echidnaopolis, a flash of light disturbs the peace, and reveals a figure materializing inside of it - that of a young echidna woman whom we've never seen before. From her dialogue, it appears she's traveled back in time, and is on the lookout for clues that will let her know exactly when she's arrived. The only other ones within the city are various Dark Legionnaires on patrol, though they and the woman never cross paths and the Legionnaires grow bored of the lack of activity. As they report in to Dimitri, Lien-Da approaches her boss' room to give a report of her own.

Gee, I don't know, Dimitri, what could Knuckles possible be doing? He certainly wouldn't be trying to reverse the effects of the Quantum Beam just as you suggested doing just a few issues ago, would he? Of course, that's exactly what he's doing. The young woman, wandering the streets, actually seems to know that everyone from the city is in another zone currently, but that's about to change, as suddenly strong winds begin to blow her away. She's shocked, and is blown around until the winds cease, at which point she's offered a helping hand.

Remington… kill Knuckles? I can't believe that for a second! Remington's been nothing but a bro ever since we first met him. What's going on here? Who is this girl, and what's the deal with Remington…?

#nala reads archie sonic preboot #archie sonic #archie sonic preboot #sonic the hedgehog #sth 106 #writer: karl bollers #writer: ken penders #pencils: ron lim #pencils: dawn best #colors: joshua d ray #colors: aimee r ray

[touchmycoat]

kinktober: day 16

day 16: rape fantasy, emphasis on fantasy

TW all the way!

*Realized I needed MORE TW: shoulder dislocation with intent to harm

Continued from day 15

Okay, so boyfriends are a dead end, at least for the time being. Which was fine! Sabo could hardly blame them (especially given the fact that this has been an entirely solo endeavor on his part so far). The problem still remained though, gone itchy with irritation.

The solution was, once again, provided by Koala.

Fantasize about it, she recommended over dinner one day. It's still shit, but it's the least shit, y'know what I mean?

What do you fantasize about? Sabo asked, only belatedly thinking it might be rude or too private. But frankly, he and Koala have crossed the line of rudeness when he had to grab hold of her knife-gouged shoulder slippery with blood to reset the dislocated bone there. They crossed the line of privacy when she had to help him buck naked out of a torture chamber that one time (she had gotten there right before Sabo would've finally gotten to practice) and share three pieces of clothes and one pair of boots between them on the resultant trek through kilometers of desert.

Robin-san, Koala answered matter-of-factly. The self-consciousness was only visible to someone like Sabo, who's known her through all the thick and thins. How she used to work with Crocodile. Her fruit powers, you know?

She can hold you down, Sabo surmised.

Deal damage from every direction. She set down her food, settled back on her arms, and sighed deeply. Was it a sigh of disappointment? If so, what exactly was she disappointed about? She'd be so gentle, but brutal about it. As in, it wouldn't be about damaging me from the outside, but pushing and pushing me until it's all I can think of, and it's all I know. Can you imagine being held like that? Hands everywhere to catch you when you squirm, and still more hands to work you over.

Do you imagine yourself screaming?

Yes. Koala smiled, a little abashed and a little innocuous, given the filthiness of the subject matter at hand. But Koala was cute like that, Sabo thought, the simultaneous embodiment of the worst and best of humanity, in so many ways. I'd really love to scream, I think. When I think about being held down, being tied up, being in bondage again... I think it'd be nice to scream my head off and fight her every step of the way. And when we're finished, come out of it knowing—

—that she loves and respects you—

—and I'm perfectly okay, yeah. She cocked her head wryly. How about you? What would you fantasize about?

He would fantasize about crying. That's the endgame, that terror-stricken mess of tears that only arises out of sheer helplessness. More than anything, Sabou thought, RA officers felt the threat of helplessness as a constant looming specter; it's what their vicious agency was born out of. That anxiety, that paranoia got so damn large sometimes though, that it felt like the only pressure-relieve valve was to blow the whole damn thing.

Ace, he thought, could hold him down. They've sparred a million times but Sabo could imagine Ace relentless, not pulling back even after Sabo's tapped out, not relinquishing the stress position he's wrestled Sabo into. Or, he would. Shove Sabo back onto his feet and wordlessly kicking off another round, before Sabo was ready. Drive in with a left hook, an uppercut, a wrestling move that would down Sabo again. Then Ace would pin him for real.

You forgot me, Ace would say, expression dark. You forgot Luffy. And you have the audacity to traipse back in after ten fucking years and act like nothing's wrong?

Sabo would physically lash out, because that's what he's trained to do, but Ace would find another grip. Flip him this time, ground his face down into sharp gravel. Put a hand on the back of Sabo's neck.

Don't fucking move. And he would summon his flames.

(Reason number four hundred eighty-nine for why he can never ask this in real life. You know how if I'm forced to, I might just admit that fire is a source of trauma for me? Yeah I also want you to use it on me, threaten me with it until I cry.)

The fire would lick quickly over his neck, but not so quickly that Sabo couldn't feel the burn. Nothing damaged, no blistered skin, but enough. Sabo could already feel his hands and feet numbing in shock, cold sweat dotting his forehead.

I will take back, Ace would snarl, what I'm owed.

Please, would escape Sabo's lips. What he's begging for he could never be sure.

Or, it could be Marco. A Marco who ran out of that patient smile. A Marco who, when Sabo asked, would sigh in resentment, reply, do you really think I have nothing better to do than entertain your vapid little games? Whose teeth might come flashing. You think you want pain yoi? I'll show you pain.

How would it feel, to be tag-teamed this way by the First and Second Division Commanders of the Whitebeard Pirates? These were men feared by the world, who made their fists out of flames. This was Ace and Marco, whom Sabo hurt, and Sabo owed. It shouldn't be hard to imagine them taking their due.

During the fight, Sabo thought, they'd get his clothes off. Every pesky protective layer between his scars and the world. He didn't have a complex, really. He could still be perfectly functional with everything exposed. It was just that he'd rather—not. That's why it'd hurt when the buttons went scattering. That's why it'd hurt when fistfuls of cloth went up in flames, but maybe that was really too harlequin romance, too teasing and nice for someone like Sabo—

Ace would get that dagger to his throat, and Marco would come up behind him. A nod of the head from Ace, and Marco would be pulling his jacket off. A swipe of that blade, and his shirt would come flying open, edges stained with fresh blood.

You owe me, Ace would claim, everything. He'd eye Sabo's torso, then fixate on the waistband of the trousers when Marco got the belt off, got the RA accoutrements out of the various pockets. Take your fucking boots off.

At knife and fire point, Sabo would kneel and start working on his boots. He'd stop, when he felt a sandal sole step on his back, right over a patch of scar.

Sensitive, are you? Ace would snort, before a booted foot socked Sabo right in the ribcage.

Hurry up yoi, Marco advised, or we cut everything off.

The moment the boots fell away, Sabo would feel rough hands grab and lift him by the armpits. Marco. He'd kick out, but Ace would be quick to bat his feet away, get within Sabo's striking range and get some vicious grips onto sensitive tendons. Shove his way right between Sabo's legs, holding them akimbo. If Sabo bucked back, he'd just slam into the unyielding line of Marco's torso, and if he kicked forward, Ace would just twist his legs until he screamed.

I finally get everything I've always wanted, Ace would say, and you come crawling back, like an infestation. What are you trying to do, huh? Make sure I'm just as ruined as you?

I'll leave you alone, Sabo would choke out, all rage and panic and guilt. If you let me go I'll leave, you'll never have to see me again—

But you've already wasted so much of our time, Marco would snip into his ear. We really ought to get something out of the services already rendered, yoi.

And as punctuation, he'd take a pointed stride forward, bending Sabo further in half and thrusting his hip forward. Proof of where he wanted to take the night would press, hard, right into the still-clothed cleft of Sabo's ass.

In a fit of hysteria, Sabo would thrash, trying to get out of those arms with all his strength. Amidst the kinetics his elbow would fly free, catch Marco right in the face. Broken nose, broken cheekbone, a nasal shout. Ace's grip tightened, and Sabo, instead of fighting or fleeing, froze.

Marco'd heal, of course, and come back a hundred times angrier. He'd shove Sabo's weight completely into Ace's hold with the exception of one arm. He'd get a good grip on Sabo's wrist, the other hand on Sabo's scapula, and before Sabo could really figure out what's going on Marco would yank. Sabo's shoulder bone would pop out of its joint with a nasty sound and a nasty scream.

If I were a worse man, Marco would whisper close in Sabo's ear, as Sabo helplessly shook. I'd fuck you just like this yoi.

Fuck you 'til you're damaged, Ace might hiss, and Sabo knew that'd be what he deserved.

But lucky for you, and he was bracing both hands on Sabo's shoulders again, and Sabo was already sobbing for him to stop, fuck, please, don't, I'm a doctor.

And he'd shove the joint back into place.

Oh that chilled you out. Ace's snort would be accompanied by hands caressing down his back, but at this point Sabo would be too shaken to flinch away. He needed those gentle touches, because if they were gliding softly across his skin those hands couldn't be hurting him. He'd lean in, when the touch appeared to be pulling away, and Marco would chuckle.

Slut, he'd say, and shove a hand down Sabo's pants.

#kinktober 2019 #marcoacesabo #koala is wonderful #thanks to lucky i ship robin/koala #god robin would be such a fucking good domme she'd just GET it #anyways this is dark as shit but it's sabo's fantasies so that makes sense

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Classic is Just Another Word For Old

When John sees Stiles and Peter spending time together, he draws certain conclusions. Very, very wrong conclusions.

For @bunnywest

Inspired by A Taste for the Classics by Bunnywest.

This is John's POV from A Taste for the Classics, Bunnywest's story. I lifted a lot of the dialogue in the second-to-last scene for it, so it all slots together. I also stole her summary. Plagiarism is such a dirty word... let's call it sampling!

“Coffee?”

John Stilinski stares the cup being offered to him, then at the man holding it.

“Why?”

“Because you’ve been staring at your computer for four and a half minutes,” Parrish tells him, “and it’s still on the log in screen. I figured you could use a pick-me-up.”

“Thanks,” John says, his voice as rough as sandpaper.

Parrish’s mouth quirks up sympathetically. “Didn’t get any sleep last night?”

“It’s that obvious, huh?” John runs a hand over his face.

Not that he needs the reminder that he’s looking tired. And old. He’s nearer to fifty than to forty these days, and he’s starting to feel it. And it doesn’t help that Stiles is still bouncing around the house every day with more energy than he had as a sugar-fuelled toddler. John’s tired, dammit, and he’s old.

And he’s apparently having a vey obvious pity party at work, given the way Parrish is looking at him worriedly.

He clears his throat. “Thanks for the coffee. Now, how are those reports coming along?”

***

The thing is, Stiles is eighteen now. And the other thing is, it’s been way too many years since he listened to any damn thing John told him anyway. But that doesn’t mean John doesn’t have a right to be worried, right? And honestly, in a town overrun with goddamn werewolves, why the hell is Stiles seemingly fixing on the one with an actual death toll?

Because this week he’s seen Stiles in the coffee shop with Peter Hale twice. The fancy coffee shop, not the diner. And John knows Stiles’s budget, and he knows he can’t afford to drop ten bucks on a coffee and a muffin every couple of days. Which means that Peter is buying, of course. Which means that he wants something. And John’s got a pretty good idea of why Peter Hale is sniffing around his kid, and he doesn’t like it one bit.

“Goddamn Peter fucking Hale and his goddamn booty count,” John mutters to himself in the shower. Fucking what? He freezes with the shampoo bottle in his hands. “Bodycount. His goddamn bodycount.”

The thing is, John isn’t blind. Peter Hale is an attractive guy. Werewolf. Whatever. He’s the total package, and he knows how to work it, the smug asshole. That smirk of his. That swagger. The way that he rolls his shoulders sometimes and draws a guy’s attention right to his ridiculous neck. His neck. Necks aren’t supposed to be attractive. They’re supposed to be functional. They’re just the bit of the body that stops the head from falling off and bouncing away, and…

And clearly this is where Stiles gets his crazy from, right?

Because John is going around the fucking bend right now.

Fuck his life.

He’s going to call Chris Argent and get some more wolfsbane bullets.

***

Stiles is an adult, and John needs to respect that.

Stiles is an adult, and he’s allowed to squawk—and blush—when he gets texts on his phone and then mutters “Fucking creeperwolf” under his breath.

Why the fuck is he blushing though?

What the hell is Peter Hale sending him?

John stomps upstairs unhappily, and goes to bed with a paperback.

He’d thought Stiles was crazy about Derek, not Peter, and that it was reciprocated. He’d thought that eventually Stiles would stop flailing and Derek would remember how to use his words, and they’d figure their shit out and get together. He’d thought that Peter would still be single and—

No.

This is about Stiles.

John is concerned for Stiles’s welfare, like any father would be.

This isn’t about Peter, and his neck and his facial hair, and those v-necks he wears, and those expensive pants that pull tight across his ass when he moves, and that subvocal growling noise he makes when he gets angry, and—

Shit.

This is totally about Peter, isn’t it?

John is completely fucked.

***

It all comes to a head the night the John is working and gets a call to a minor traffic accident on Maple and Lincoln. It’s barely a ding, and there are no injuries at all, but one of the drivers is elderly and flustered, so John shows up, calms everyone down, and makes sure that the old guy gets a ride home with a deputy. Then, as he’s heading back to his car, he happens to glance down the street and see Peter’s ridiculously flashy car parked in the next block.

Weird.

There’s nothing in this block except for…

John’s heart skips a beat.

Rue de Paris, Beacon Hills’ answer to fine French cuisine, if the question had been “So, you’ve never actually been to France, right?” Still, it’s something of a Beacon Hills institution, a place for first dates and romantic evenings, where the wine is expensive and the tablecloths aren’t made of paper.

When Stiles was little he couldn’t pronounce the sign, and called it Rudey Paris.

John crosses the street and approaches the restaurant. There’s a sinking feeling in his gut that he’s too much of a coward to put a name to, and it only intensifies when he looks through the front window of the restaurant and sees Stiles and Peter sitting at a table, their faces bathed in flickering candlelight.

Stiles is laughing at something Peter says, and Peter is smiling in return.

Stiles looks happy, and Peter looks as strikingly handsome as always.

John presses his mouth into a thin line, draws a deep breath, and walks away.

It jabs at him all night.

Stiles is an adult, but Peter is a killer.

Stiles is an adult, but Peter is dangerous, and manipulative, and can’t be trusted.

Stiles is an adult, but John still has a right to protect him.

Of course, he can’t trust his objectivity here, can he?

Because Stiles is an adult, and John is jealous.

“Parrish,” he says later, working on next month’s roster.

Parrish leans into his doorway. “Sheriff?”

“Would you let your only son date Peter Hale?” he asks.

“What?” Parrish’s eyes widen. “No. Oh, god, no. Not in a million years.”

Well then. That settles it. John might not be able to trust his own judgement, but he can trust Parrish’s.

“I’m heading home,” he says, standing up from his desk. “Call me if anything crops up.”

***

John’s not going to lie. He, and his shotgun, are looking forward to this. He’s sitting on the porch swing when Peter pulls up in his car and Stiles stumbles out of the front passenger seat like a baby gazelle trying to walk on ice.

“Hale,” John calls out, standing up. “Get over here and face me like a man.”

Too much?

No, dammit. He’s spent eighteen years raising Stiles. He’s earned the right to posture a little. And, to his satisfaction, Peter actually looks intimidated for about half a second as he climbs out of the car. Then he sheds it in a heartbeat and defaults back to Smug Fucking Asshole.

“Uh, Dad?” Stiles hurries toward him. “What’s going on?”

“Quiet, Stiles. This is between me and Hale.”

Stiles makes a face like a toddler refusing vegetables.

“Hale,” John says, “I’m going to ask you a question, and by god, the answer had better be no.” He raises the barrel of the shotgun. “Are you sleeping with my teenage son?”

The fucker smirks.

Actually smirks.

And then he leans in a little, like he’s sharing a secret. “Absolutely not. Stiles is a little young for my taste.”

John isn’t sure what to make of that. He lowers the shotgun. “Well then what in hell are you two doing slinking off together at night?”

Peter’s smirk widens into a smile. “We’ve been talking about you, actually.”

John doesn’t like the jolt that runs through him at that. “Me?”

“You. I’ve been bribing Stiles with meals and caffeine to tell me what you like, so when I take you on a date, I can be certain you’ll enjoy yourself.”

When he takes him on a what? John’s brain trips on that word, stalls, comes at it again from a different angle, can’t process it from that direction either, and then shuts down completely.

“Of course,” Peter purrs, stepping up onto the porch like a wolf who’s just cornered the world’s dumbest rabbit, “it’s a date with me, so a good time’s guaranteed.”

John’s brain jump-starts again, except now it’s filled with explicit pornographic images. Most of them involve Peter, his smirk, his neck, and his dick.

The shotgun drops from his numb fingers. “Well, shit.”

Peter leans in close, his nostrils flaring a little as though he can smell John’s arousal. He probably can, the arrogant fuck. John should step back—he really should—but he doesn’t, and a shiver runs through him as Peter’s lips brush against his in a soft, brief kiss.

“Let me take you out and treat you right, Sheriff?”

And every single objection John had earlier in the night in regards to Peter and Stiles vanishes. Because fuck it, John is a long way past eighteen, and he can take care of himself.

“If you’re taking me out, you can call me John. And I don’t put out, not on the first date.” He reaches out and curls his palm around the back of that ridiculous fucking neck, pulling Peter in for another kiss.

This one is bruising.

“Oh, my fucking eyes!” Stiles exclaims, and flees inside.

John doesn’t spare him any sympathy.

His kid is an adult. He’ll get over it.

***

“Coffee?” Parrish asks the next morning.

“Thanks.” John taps his fingers along his desk. “So, the conversation we had last night?”

Parrish looks at him expectantly.

“What if it wasn’t your son who wanted to date Peter Hale?” he asks. “What if it was you? What would you say then?”

Parrish’s expression becomes wary. “I’d say that I really like my job here, and my boss’s private life is none of my business.”

“Good answer, son,” John says. “Good answer.”

He takes his coffee and whistles as he begins to work.

#my fics #discontentedwinter #peter hale/sheriff stilinski