#actual uncle jagged

[galahadwilder]

I have decided to headcanon that, at least in some universes, Francois Dupont is a school for child celebrities or children of celebrities because both weathergirl candidates, the superhero blogger/journalist who is also the daughter of the head chef of a 5 star restaurant and the director of the Paris Zoo, Chloe and Adrien, Nino's been on TV as a DJ, the daughter of the director of the Louvre, Marinette's uncle is a world-famous celebrity chef and she's the babysitter for Paris' top newscaster--hell, they thought Juleka was normal and she ended up being Jagged Stone's secret daughter which makes me think Anarka was like "she'll be safe at this school if the secret gets out." There are probably betting pools in-school about which seemingly "normal" kid is going to turn out to be Picasso's nephew or something. (Current odds are 10-to-1 that Rose is an incognito actual princess of some tiny country or other.)

#miraculous ladybug #college francois dupont #miracuclass #original content #crack

[astyrial]

sparks between you suna rintarō x fem!reader (fluff) synopsis: you’re practicing with a hockey player for an event word count: 1.1k warnings: mentions of skating blades masterlist | requests are open part 1 / part 3

    "all you have to do is toss me a little, not throw, mr. reckless," you skate up to suna, your hands reaching for his, "and you have to position your hands here on my hips."

  your fingers interlace with his, hands guiding his until they're up against your hips. his fingertips glide across your bodysuit, the feeling carries through to your skin, sending goosebumps along your torso. you look back at him and give him a short smile, "we'll start with you slightly lifting me off the ground and dropping me on the ice."

  it took a couple of practices for the two of you to get where you are. the first one filled with you criticizing his hockey skates, stating that 'they aren't built for this', and him commenting that it won't matter since it's just for a day. he would turn away from you a lot, rolling his eyes at your instructions. you end up sending kiyoko a look similar to daggers since you're stuck with the most stubborn person alive (besides yourself). 

  you nearly strangled him by the end of the practice and told kiyoko such. through a long phone call, you shared all of your grievances with the hockey player. she ensured you that all will be alright if you just give him a viable chance. due to her reason and influence, you promised yourself you would be better for the next practice. 

  the second practice started with a short truce that suna actually ended up initiated...

  "i'm sorry... for my attitude the other day. i get that this is your thing and you understand better than i do. let's get this done and then we can part ways forever," suna holds out his hand, a pair of cloth gloves covering his probably freezing fingers.

  you bite your lip, looking between his eyes and his hand. without thinking much of it, you hold out your hand and give his a short shake. his hand is rather cold against your own glove. when you look up at his eyes, you can see the heat from his mouth forming a small cloud of fog. suna gives you a short smile and pulls his hand away, "we should get started then..."

  "right, how about we work on spinning? not your forte, i know, but we wanna win," you begin ruffling through a large duffel bag that you had brought, causing suna to look around you in an attempt to get a peek, "but that means you need a blade with a toe pick."

  you pull out an old pair of your uncle's figure skates (the main reason you ever got into skating). it's battered, definitely having seen better days, but it works for what you're trying to accomplish (especially because it miraculously fit). suna stands there for a moment, his mouth open a little.

  "trying to compete with hockey skates are dangerous due to the make of them, so, wouldn't want mr. reckless to get hurt in the middle of a season."

  something about the two of you changed, the way you interacted was no longer tense. he'd finally face you while rolling his eyes at your instructions. he finally gives you a small smile when you say something funny. suna's hands even grip you a little better and you can practically feel him lighten a little. 

  he brings you up, using his upper body strength to toss you a little. with what little space you have, you accomplish a half spin, landing with one leg out. you let out a small sigh as you turn around to look at him, your eyebrows raised.

  "well suna, it seems we have something that we can work with," you rest your hands on your hips, skating back towards him.

  suna shrugs his shoulders, crossing his arms across his chest, biting back a smile, "seems we do, i guess we have you to thank for that. because i really have no idea what i'm doing."

  you shake your head, skating around him on the somewhat jagged ice. the two of you began your practice after kiyoko and tanaka's and the zamboni hadn't had a chance to smooth it out. you bring yourself to a stop and hold out your hand, your fingers wiggling while you wait for suna to grab it. 

  he raises an eyebrow, nervously putting out his hand to grab yours. "what are we doing now?" suna runs his thumb against the back of your hand, a chill following quickly behind.

  "we're going to skate side by side, i mean, you can't just be throwing me around to get points," you pull him towards you, gliding your skate against the ice, letting his skates follow suit, "we have to find a rhythm, work together, just for another week..."

  "yes, another week," suna looks away for a moment before he begins to copy your footwork, his skates moving harmoniously with yours. 

  the two of you start around the rink, his free hand moving until it latches onto your waist, keeping him with you. he moves ahead of you, skating backward, his fingers still resting firmly against your hip. you bring your free hand up to his shoulder and replicate that of the waltz. as you look into his eyes, it feels as though the two of you have been skating together forever. 

  he goes to turn around, continue behind you, but something catches on his skates. suna falls onto his back; his hand that's latched onto you, brings you down with him. he slides against the cold ice, his eyes closed in anguish. suna's arm is still around your waist as he instinctively protected you from the fall. 

  you let out a soft sigh, breathing heavily, "um- you okay?"

  "okay? i mean, i did just slip on some ice and completely ate it-" he begins to complain about what happened, but he quickly stops as soon as he opens his eyes.

  the first thing that he sees is you staring back at him, eyebrows furrowed. your eyes search his golden-hazel eyes, your noses nearly touching. he doesn't know what to do besides give you a small smile and shrug, "i'll be okay, though. trust me, hockey is a contact sport."

  his reassurance sends a smile to your face and he looks away from you. you finally realize just how awkward of a situation the two of you are. "uh, thanks for the save suna, appreciate it," you bring your leg over him and rest your knee on the ice.

  suna lets go of your waist, his fingers sliding off of your torso like he didn't quite want to let go yet. you watch as he brings himself to his feet, holding out his hand for you to grab. when your hand takes his for another time, it becomes clear to you that initially misjudged the hockey player.

#suna rintaro haikyuu #suna rintarō #suna rintarou #suna rintaro x reader #suna x reader #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #figure skating au #hockey player au #haikyuu au

[comradekatara]

Re: Zuko sexism and fandom: I think that a LOT of people are just genuinely unwilling to actually view Zuko's bad behaviour as actually consequential. He gets "forgiven" by the Gaang and he has a big dramatic duel and then he rules the Fire Nation so it's fine actually. If it wasn't fine he wouldn't have been forgiven, like Jet! They use the lens of end-of-series Zuko, influenced by how the Gaang forgives him, to then retroactively handwave away his earlier behaviour and view it as if end of series Zuko is just misguidedly doing those things, rather than it being an actual expression of what he believes in and his morality at that point in time. Part of it is an abundance of sympathy and projection because he's the most explicit (and arguably only explicit, because other child abuse victims are never injured or attempted-murdered that we know of, and that's the bar for many viewers. Neither are any other than Zuko positioned piteously or as victims of Serious Injustice.) child abuse victim in the show and we see so MUCH of his internal struggle. For like a whole book. There's also a consistent trend of viewing the Fire Nation as Yes, Actually, being better than the other societies, they just shouldn't have tried to spread it via war, so yes Zuko is ✨indoctrinated✨ but in a feminist galaxy brained way not a bad fascist way. So the colonialism would've been fine if people had just agreed with how great the Fire Nation is! Pretty much the entirety of Zuko's bad behaviour is handwaved away as "he's a good guy who had a bad life! We forgive him for all of it, he's trying!" And to a lot of viewers, it's also "he's also hot and I've had a crush on him since I was like 14!". He's genuinely a huge asshole to pretty much everyone around him like, almost 24/7, for the majority of the show. And he has his reasons but he's still caused a lot of harm, and that we see? he's basically only revised his views on violent colonialism, making his Anger other people's problem, and some parts of racism. He only ever addresses what he's done to the Gaang and Uncle to. Does he buy Song another ostrich horse? Does he give Kyoshi reparations? Did he ever find out if that farming family with the kid Lee were harmed for harbouring a FIRE NATION PRINCE? What did he do to apologise to the Southern Water Tribe? Whatever he did to apologise to and thank Mai, if anything, I can guarantee it wasn't enough. That's just his personal stuff, never mind his policy choices as the New Fiery Dictator. It's so boring and frustrating how much people gloss over his jagged edges, because without those edges his narrative and how he fits into the world and story just collapses completely.

you’re so right about all of this. I think his final scene with mai is especially emblematic of how his resolution is framed as “and they all lived happily ever after” even though I remember perfectly well how he treated that poor girl so I’m just yelling at her to run away the whole scene. although I will say that stealing song’s ostrich horse was probably his most justifiable crime just bc if I was a disfigured burn victim and someone tried to touch my face without asking I’d also consider committing petty theft against them. ngl. he still does owe her a new ostrich horse though. and of course framing his ascension as some grand victory is thematically/telelogically appropriate, but I highly doubt he would be like. good at firelording. but that’s for another post. ppl really like smoothing out his edges and treating him as if he’s beyond reproach when everyone only finds him so compelling in the first place because his flaws are so obvious, so they assume he’s more “complex” than the other characters (and also more relatable, but that’s for another post too). it’s actually kind of funny if you think about it. “he’s the best because he’s so noticeably flawed and therefore so complex but also I love him so he doesn’t have any flaws actually and is probably a feminist socialist who loves eating pussy and listening to women.” and this is also lowkey how ppl talk about sokka too but at least sokka does actually do those things, zuko doesn’t even pretend to😭 anyway. i keep saying today that you guys couldn’t handle revolutionary girl utena, but you guys REALLY couldn’t handle revolutionary girl utena…

#which reminds me that I still need to finish that sokka/nanami essay #estra-die-ol #asks #also ofc zuko and mai are both gay. but that’s beside the point #zuko #hot takes #mai #song #sorry I know she meant well but I hate that girl!!!! #she has smug nurse energy 2 me #like no u can’t touch some guy u just met learn some fucking BOUNDARIESS #anyway. he was still wrong for stealing her mode of transportation lmfao

[honkytonk-hangman]

Top Gun: Maverick Masterlist

Teacher's Pet [Hangman x Reader] Summary: You need to come up with a lesson plan to teach your eighth graders about aerodynamics, only, you barely understand a word of it yourself. Luckily for you, your boyfriend has a pretty decent knowledge of the subject.

Afterburn [Hangman x Reader] Summary: It had been clear from the moment you got inside a cockpit that you were going to be something special. You certainly weren’t the youngest Naval Aviator to be invited to TOPGUN, but you had been the youngest to graduate at number one in more than thirty years. Which is all the more reason why it was so tragic that you would never, ever, be able to fly again.

Meet You All The Way [Rooster x OC/Reader] Summary: Now that they had reconciled, Rooster is struggling to figure out the right way to tell Maverick that he had a family all of his own now.

Hold The Line [Platonic Hangman x OC/Reader] Summary: Jake presses his lips together as he lets out a sigh. He leans forward on the railing again, eyes once more following the little boy who was quite happily playing by himself in the sand. “I just thought that Baby Goose deserved to grow up knowing his dad.”

Line of Sight [Hangman x Reader] COMPLETE Summary: You’re almost certain that Jake Seresin could care less about you, that is, until you’re in a tight spot and the one guy you assume will hang you out to dry, instead comes to your rescue.

Cont. ↓

How it's Done [Hangman x Aviator!Reader] Summary: “Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean. “Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–” “–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by.

What You Want [Rooster x Reader] Summary: Rooster is aware that despite working together for a little over six months now, he doesn’t really know you all that well. One late night walk to your car later, Rooster realises he’d like that to change.

Goodness! Gracious! [Rooster x Reader] Summary: You wouldn’t say you were trying to give your 'Uncle’ Mav a taste of his own medicine, after all, it was him who introduced you to Rooster in the first place, but you weren’t exactly trying to spare the man, either.

Good In Bed [Hangman x Reader] Summary: Jake has made it crystal clear to you that you’re only friends with benefits, so why did he go and delete your dating apps?

Checkmate [Hangman x Reader] Summary: You’ve been transferred to Dagger Squad, which is both good and bad. Good, because it meant the brass felt you belonged with the best. Bad, because the best already had a tight friendship group, and you were not yet apart of that. And you may never be, if you keep making fun of a certain someone’s callsign.

In Sickness... [Hangman x Reader] Summary: Jake feels his pulse jump and his stomach fly when he talks to or about you. Obviously, this must mean he’s gravely ill.

...And In Health [Hangman x Reader] Summary: A year after Jake has come to terms with his sickness, he might just have the opportunity to find the cure.

Devil In Disguise [Hangman x Reader] Summary: in which Jake finds out the female officer he’s been eye fucking for half an hour is actually JAG.

Big Girl [Hangman x Reader] Summary: Jake Seresin doesn’t believe you should hide your light under a bushel, no.

SunKissing [Hangman x Reader] Summary: Eight and a half months Dagger had been at sea, which is honestly one of the shorter deployments Jake had been on, certainly not one he’d have usually complained about, except that this time, for the first time, Jake had somewhere else he wanted to be aside from in his jet.

Flight Risk [Hangman x Reader] Summary: The sky beyond the baking tarmac is cloudless, and washed with deep reds and oranges, the way it always is by the time Jake lands when the monthly inter-squad training simulation has drawn to a close. Almost always. Today, the sky had been a bright Carolina blue.

Today, Hangman had been shot down.

Take Care Of Business [40s AU Hangman x Reader] The last time you met Lieutenant Jake Seresin, the war was still ongoing and you’d been in a floundering engagement. Back then you’d seen the possibility for more in his eyes, and now? Well, now you could explore it.

All This Love [Hangman x Reader] “Congratulations?” Rooster half-praises, half-questions, side-eying Jake, who stiffens just slightly, but finds himself relaxing when he looks back up at the grainy ultrasound. “Thanks,” he says, feeling his stomach flutter at the memory of the first time he saw it.

When Jake Met Polly [Hangman x Reader] Jake likes to flirt with his Air Traffic Controller or Jake Seresin has never seen When Harry Met Sally.

#top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #masterlist

[bonebabbles]

God the new ultimate guide sucks

It's not JUST the awful art, either. The art's just worth mentioning because even if the book's info had been terrible or contained nothing new, really cute art can make it still worth having.

But, no, it's even full of recycled lines we've been hearing for years like "Bramblestar Can Match Squirrelflight's Fire Not Contain It," and that's when it DOES get everything right. These entries leave out major, important details (making them bad summaries) and are sometimes even straight-up incorrect.

SUMMARY THOUGHTS

Leafpool is said to have watched Brambleclaw kill Hawkfrost to save Firestar-- but for one, no, she was not there because Ashfur was still leading her and Squilf towards the scene. For two, no, Brambleclaw did not kill Hawkfrost just to save Firestar, it was self-defense. Hawkfrost had him pinned and was going to kill him.

They're REAL cute about Leafpool's death, too, neglecting to mention WHY the Sisters needed to be saved at all and just saying Leafpool's "generosity" lead to her death in that cave-in.

I'm not even going to get into everything on Bramble's entry jesus christ.

Sagewhisker's entry is ESPECIALLY fucken' dandy, framing Yellowfang's Secret like she was simply waiting patiently for Yellow to realize her 'destiny' and not actively shoving it on her at every opportunity.

Leopardstar's entry states that romantic interest in Tigerstar was part of her motivation. "Perhaps she'd hoped he would be her mate" please speak to a woman irl for once in your life.

Gray Wing's entry forgot that the reason he "blamed himself" for Bright Stream's death is because he was literally staring at his big strong brother too much and tripped on a root in front of him. It IS his fault she died.

Clear Sky/Skystar's entry is just obscene. "He regretted abandoning his son and after a fire, he encouraged him to live with him" instead of "saw his teenage child was useful now and bullied and belittled the kid and his uncle into letting Thunder come with him." "Retaining his fierceness towards his cats and outsiders which caused his son to leave" instead of "murdering, brutalizing, and abusing everyone around him caused Thunder to leave." I'll just say this tho; "Fierce" is an interesting way to spell "Cruel."

It's interesting that they don't point out that a major part of Jagged Peak's arc was proving he was "Just As Good" as every other cat in spite of his disability, thanks to his introduced-and-pregnant-in-the-same-book wife becoming his life coach, only earning Clear Sky's respect after being allowed to physically lead a patrol in Blazing Star. Instead they frame him finding his place through taking care of kits, which... was something he seemed to resent in the actual series, considering how the books suddenly treat Gray Wing's protective treatment of him as a terrible thing in Blazing Star because he "didn't give him a chance". But at the same time I actually strongly dislike Jagged Peak and his messy, frustrating character arc so I'm not really UPSET with it. Just... noting it. I suppose this is the official direction they're taking away from it?

Shadowstar's entry is barely even 3 paragraphs yikes.

SHORT STORY THOUGHTS

And if you're wondering if the 4 brand new stories they smooshed into the end in a desperate attempt to make the rush job worth buying are good? No. Of course not. They're all slop.

Story 1: Firestar and Graystripe

First one's a marginally cute story about Graystripe and Firestar which is setting up the framing device linking the mini-tales together. They both remember this situation where Firestar fell into a ditch wrong. The punchline is that Thunderstar remembers it perfectly and they're both like, "WOW! Too bad Thunderstar's memory sucks!"

It's not terrible, but it does feel a bit pointless. But, hey, if you want more Firestar and Graystripe in the series that tosses them fanservice at every turn, who am I to judge?

Story 2: Dovewing and Ivypool

The next one is the Dovewing/Ivypool reconciliation passage everyone's talking about. It's... fine, but immensely dissatisfying to me.

Dovewing is apparently having problems adjusting to her Clan, grapples a little bit with the fact she has no friends but is going to be finding meaning in helping tigerHeartstar "bring the new ShadowClan into existence." She ultimately decides that she needs to talk to her sister, and begs for reassurance that Ivypool believes in her, feeling that her support can help her get through this difficult time in her life.

I think its biggest problem is that Dovewing was not the right choice for the POV here.

Dove was never the one responsible for the rift in their relationship. Ivypool is. Ivypool is the one who was jealous, willing to sabotage anything that would put Dovewing closer to Tigerheart, and continues to be generally aggressive towards her. So when Dovewing is reaching out to Ivypool in hopes of them reconciling, it feels wrong because Ivypool is the one that should be reaching out to Dovewing. SHE is the one who has some things to apologize for, and to show how much she loves and misses her.

It's even kind of frustrating, because Dovewing can never catch a break. She has to have these problems to force her to reach out, Ivypool even ends up suggesting that she leave and come home and take her kids with her, but in the end even a LITTLE bit of assurance from her aggressive sister helps.

I feel super bad for Dovewing, man. She deserves better than this cheap writing. What was the point of such an unsatisfying, rushed reconciliation, shoved into a crummy field guide, when we KNOW from the newest book that they're just going to use tension between them as part of the drama anyway?

shouldn't have even been written, imo. Even ends off with, "They'll always have each other :)" which is so... cliche. It's TIRED. Are any of you really happy with just getting a retconned platitude in a good-for-nothing field guide, instead of seeing complicated, INTERESTING feelings in a main book?

Story 3: Alderheart and Twigbranch

A tale of Cherryfall getting sick during TBC and Alderheart sneaks back into the territory to treat her. Also Crowfeather has a scene where he yells at him. Charming.

Twigbranch comes up with a diversion while Alderheart does his work, which is cute. It's a fine story.

Story 4: Clear Sky

Trash. Three dogs spawn in the middle of a gathering so that Skystar can have an uwu big boy sendoff saving his grandkit. Then he goes to StarClan and throws a fit because they can't give him ANOTHER life, becoming so upset that he attacks the nearest woman. Naturally, Shadowstar brushes it off because it's not the first time Clear Sky has pummeled her in the midst of an adult tantrum and this book series thinks violence is fine if their favorite sadboy does it.

Then Gray Wing brings him to the magic mirror pool where you can see the living, to confirm that Star Flower is ok and that makes him feel better.

Then it launches into Firestar saying "ouuuugh yum I LOVE the taste of his butthole. Clear Sky is so misunderstood, He Just Loved Too Much."

to which Graystripe responds, "Yes, he was a good and amazing person and his farts smells SO good, and can you believe that some people think StarClan punished his Clan for his arrogance? As if he ever did anything wrong, ever?"

Firestar, indignant, refutes it with, "Ugh!! StarClan would NEVER be interesting, we don't punish living cats we just float around and make vague, frustrating prophecies that do nothing but pad the word count. Why cant ppl understand that, gosh."

who wrote this? Gray Wing??

#The amount of passive voice Clear Sky has to be surrounded with in order to look like a redeemable character is dizzying #I feel like I'm reading a headline about cops who blew up an orphanage every time I read anything official about him #oh wait im sorry. A ''high-pressure accident which occurred at a government institution with 3 officers present'' lmaooooo #ultimate field guide #bone babble #im actually REALLY glad actually they havent been making these #This was garbage #There were a few good things in this but overall? Absolute slop. I wouldn't even feed this to a pig. #I think this is actually down there with Cats of the Clans (with Rock) for worst field guide #This is abysmal #You would be better with the wiki summaries and the 4 stories are mid at best #What a shame that they re-pivoted so hard from Riverstar's SE which I was JUST praising for tossing out that shitty ''redemption arc'' #Nope. We're right back to square one. #How much do you guys wanna bet it's ONE writer who's OBSESSED with Clear Sky and every time he writes anything he does this #I'm not sure who wrote this one but let's see if my hunch is right lmao

[plush-rabbit]

Dabi W/ Ice Quirk!Reader

Request: Oh boy here goes nothing >.< bear with me, please. I'm a huge sucker for "opposites attract,"  so what if Dabi met someone with a persistent Ice quirk that's destroying their body (frost bite) the same way Dabi's is, as well as their surroundings? And if Dabi is resistent to ice, rather than fire, what if Dabi was the only person that could resist freezing to death when touching ice person. Bonus points if condensed oxygen helps his quirk burn hotter/faster. I'll take anything, pls and ty!!! Uwu

A/N: this took forever, but like i wanna write again, and i miss it, and lately i’ve been feeling a certain way

Word Count: 1.5K

An ice quirk on the team. Dabi thinks it’s a joke. A cruel one that the universe has just handed to him. He snorts when you tell everyone your quirk and you chose to not comment on it. He’s not the most emotionally stable person in the team, or in general, so he holds a bit of resentment towards you. He’s colder with you- one worded answers, grunts and hums in responses to your questions. You haven’t done anything wrong, but it’s your damn quirk that has him sneering at you. Where his quirk is cremation, yours is frostbite. 

Maybe Shigaraki likes to piss him off, or there was a good reason to pair you and him together, but no matter, he listens because it is the means to his goal. He keeps his head down and goes on a mission with you. It’s supposed to be simple, receive something and drop it off at another location, but heroes have followed and now they’re chasing you and him down the street. It’s the first time that he actually sees your quirk in action. You’re quick on your feet, using the ice to help you “skate” around, ice that juts up from the ground in unforgiving spikes, a snowstorm concealing the both of you enough to make a grand escape. If he weren’t so jaded, he might have actually found it nice. 

However, when you two are finally able to hide away- the drop-off location date changed due to the heroes intervening- he takes a good look at you. You’re huffing and puffing, your breaths coming out in clouds of smoke. Your nose and face are flushed and the psalm of your hands are turning into a harsh blue. Ice is stuck to your skin, and you’re slowly bending and unbending your fingers. You of course can feel him staring, and while he isn’t polite enough to ask, he just won’t ask unless it interests him. Yet, you want to fill the silence so you tell him about your quirk.

Your body wasn’t meant for this quirk. In reality, this quirk hadn’t been seen in your family for a few generations- enough to know that your cousins and aunts and uncles hadn’t had this quirk. It was a surprise when you started to make ice- not snow as some would have liked- but ice. You talked about how you made jagged statues of ice when your emotions were too much, how your skin would harden and it would take ages just for it to return to normal. How because it was a quirk thought to have died out in the family, your body wasn’t made for it. The worst of it was that your quirk was powerful, but your body wasn’t, and he tears his gaze away from you when you say that. It really is a cruel joke from the universe that he met you.

For whatever reason, he starts to treat you just a little better. He sits next to you, and gives you at least more than one word in most conversations. It’s scraps, but you take it eagerly. Due to that, you both get paired on missions together. He thinks it’s another joke from Shigaraki and the others, but you seem happy enough with it, so he doesn’t make as many remarks about it. He won’t admit it, but he prefers to have you fight with him, if only because when you activate your quirk, the cool temperature not only soothes his skin, but makes his fire burn longer and hotter. And while he hasn’t made any comment about it, he sees how you stick close to his fire, watching the ice melt off your skin and keep the blue softer than before. It’s a beneficial teamup. That’s all it is.

Of course, you can’t just have the exact opposite of his quirk- you have to be the exact opposite from him. Polite, and kind. Caring and soft. It comes in all types of forms, from giving him the parts of the meal you don’t like, to sitting next to him and having ice form around you, wilting the plants and expanding into the cracks of the concrete, just for him to cool off. You’ve become observant of him, and you watch as his own usage of his quirk makes him feverish, almost sickly. It comes in a wave at night, as he’s laying in bed, panting and head splitting open, and he thinks he’s going to die, to have his insides turn into mush and leak out of him, until the door creaks open. 

You walk in and sit beside him, cooing his name softly, and pressing your hand against his forehead. You tell him that he’s burning- that you think he really is going to melt the bed and the home that you and the League have been living in for the past few weeks. You stay with him through the night, pressing your hand against his forehead, trialing it down over to his neck where you think you see steam slip between your fingertips, and lifting to hover over his chest. Through the night, you repeat the motions, and he’s in and out of consciousness, lulled back to sleep when you shush him gently and make him just a bit colder. You can’t stay awake all through the night and inevitably pass out with your hands on his chest, your quirk still cooling him. He wakes up angry, snarling and pushing you against the wall, and you have to explain between gasps of air that you were trying to help. You’re sorry, and there are tears in your eyes. You’re trying to pry his hands off of you, nails pinching into his skin and when he sees how your hands are covered in a thick blue hue, almost as if you were wearing gloves, does he finally let go. You’re crying as you apologize, and he hates how he’s standing over you, so he squats down and tells you that he didn’t mean to be so rough. It’s not an apology, but it’s something close to one.

Guilt doesn’t eat at him, but it makes looking at you arduous. So, at night, he walks into your room. He wakes you up with a shake and you don’t attack him as he did to you, so maybe that doesn’t mean that you’re all that upset. But when you speak, you’re careful to keep your hands twisted over the covers and pressed under your shirt. He offers a solution. He hates to be indebted to others, so he offers to take your hands and warm them up. You think it’s a trick, and he makes the comment that you’d be useless if you got frostbite. It doesn’t take much for you to give him your hands, and he sits beside you after constant urging. He holds your hands and makes a soft warmth emit from his own, and a part of him aches, but you hum, and watch him through your lashes, and his body is on fire under your gaze. You sleep soundly, and he stays awake watching you and holding your hands. 

There’s no way to quite tell when it was that he started to warm up to you- when he became just a bit softer around you, when he actually wanted you to talk to him, but it happened. He likes being around you. He teases you lightly, nothing too harsh, and he listens to you ramble about why you had to be a villain, or why it seemed like the only choice despite coming from a decent family. When it’s just the two of you, sometimes fluffs of snow start to creep from where you sit, fragile ice covers the sides of the building in a thin layer with an intricate design webbed into them. It might be the first time in a long time when he thinks that ice isn’t so bad. And when the ice creeps and cracks against your face when you smile, there’s a faraway thought that you’re pretty when you smile. 

Whether the others have noticed your nightly excursions to his room, they haven’t said a thing. He, however, has said many things, but he still leaves his door unlocked for you, and a crack open for you to push in. Slowly, your quirk has been consuming your body, and it’s made it difficult to open things without needing aid. And every night without fail, you come into his room. You help cool him down, and he holds your hands in his, claiming that there is no other for you to take his warmth. A part of you has started to suspect that he likes holding hands, but you don’t dare risk that gamble. He keeps you beside him, sleeping next to you with your hands still in his, and he wakes up before you, telling you that you kick around in your sleep. And every morning, before you wake, Dabi bends your fingers for you, making sure with every move, that you haven’t woken up. He’d deny it even if you were to catch him in the act. 

#dabi x reader #bnha imagines #dabi headcanons #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x reader #bnha #is it okay to tag this as touya #like its him #but like not how im using him #anyways!! #if he dies im gonna combust #like him #i can't lose him #like if shigaraki goes #oh dip dude #like im out #im gonna be in denial #for like ever #i still like to think jin is taking a vacation somewhere #ummm #anything else to say?? #who knows!! #oh!! #i started to play blooming panic and our life beginnings and always #and by beginning to play #i mean i have played and fallen in love #honestly #obsessed #so thats where my mind hs been #rotten

[liquid-luck-00]

Marks of Magic

Day 8 Familiar of Maribat Spooktober 2023

First *** Previous *** Next

Language and cursing is used

2230 Words

~~~~~~~~~~

Six years had passed and Marinette decided it was time to go back to Gotham.

She was taking a break from her designs for a bit and Luka and Jagged asked if she wanted to tour with them for a bit.

And who was she to say no. She loved them both, one was her boyfriend, while the other was his dad (and her pseudo crazy uncle). Gotham was Jagged’s hometown so it made sense for him to stop there on his North American Tour.

So here she was after six years, the cold autumn air was chilly but not too cold yet. The sky just starting to shift into dusk, casting more shadows than usual. She and Luka were walking hand in hand under the giant white oak when she noticed it. The stage, the cannons, the man standing in that horridly tacky green and purple three piece suit.

“Well that’s a familiar sight.” She sighed watching the progression make its way to the park entrance. “Come on. From what I’ve seen the Riddler has toned it down a lot ever since that new guy came in.”

“And how are we to help?” He grinned at her knowingly.

“Please riddles are child’s play.” She waved pulling him along.

“Let’s see, let’s see. You their black and red dye. Answer 3 riddles and the city goes free.”

“Why not.” She shrugged at the rogue.

“Why do zombies never win…”

“At poker?” She finished the riddle. “It’s because they have a tell-tale heart.”

She grinned remembering the grin that was erased from this timeline.

“How did you?” He looked at her quizzically. “Never mind. Walk on the living, they don't even mumble, step on the dead…”

“They mutter and grumble.” She finished again, the familiarity of the situation making her smile. “Leaves, of course. So are you going to give out some new riddles or at least cut the theatrics.”

“You’re a meta aren’t you.” He accused.

“Nope. I’ve just heard them before.” She popped the ‘p’ while tilting her head to the side.

“Here’s the next one.” He started but didn’t get to start it before she interrupted him.

“While some spring forward, I choose to fall back. Come and join me while you sit on a haystack. I may show a movie with a crazed maniac, I will for sure host a festival to give you a heart attack.” She started to laugh as the rogue stood shocked. “Do you only have a limited autumn library, or did I just get the only repeat performance.”

“You’re that little girl.” He stood shocked at this little revelation.

“And I can knock you on your ass again if you’d like.” She smiled.

“It’s not nice to tease him, he is a villain after all.” Luka murmured hugging her.

“Please if I knock him down it would be far softer than if it was the bat.” She pouted loud enough for those who gathered could hear.

“Want to test that theory?” Speak of the devil and he shall appear, Batman.

She tensed slightly, resisting the urge to glare at the ‘hero’ that stood just behind the Riddler. “I wouldn’t want to overstep.”

“Besides we have somewhere to be, Melody, we wouldn’t want to show up after a fight do we.”

She crossed her arms and pouted, puffing out her cheeks.

“I don’t care, but your dad does…” She huffed.

“Are you really that girl?” Riddler still gawked at the two of them, before seeming to make up his mind.

Just like all those years ago he charged her. And just like before she punched him in the nose. Luka let her go and jumped back, knowing she was going to throw him over her shoulder.

“Yup…” The riddler breathed out. “You’re that same girl. But you’re right softer than Bats.”

He laid on his back, not even trying to move.

“Wow!” A new voice shouted from behind her. “You’re tiny! I didn’t think you could actually do it.”

She turned and saw a young boy, maybe 14 or 15. He was in a mask, in a variation of the classic boy wonder suit, a new Robin. Her breath caught and she doesn’t remember how to breathe for a moment.

How could he?!

How could Batman let another child take up the mantle.

She couldn’t believe it, she was horrified, but more so she was livid. She wanted to march up to him and slap him. She turned and there was a tug on her wrist.

“He isn’t worth your anger, love.” Luka hummed, calming her enough that she remembered to breathe.

“Your right.” She shrugged. “Besides if I ever get arrested it isn’t going to be for this.”

She laughed, which he joined into.

“Sorry to interrupt, but we need a quick statement.” A gentleman, drew their attention, the coat, glasses, and the now salted chestnut hair.

“Commissioner Gordon, right?” She smiled at the officer. Sure she ran into him once but that day is in the forefront of her mind at the moment.

“Yes. How did you know?” He blinked.

“An event eerily similar to this one, a few years ago. You drove…” Her eyes started to tear, but she blinked them away quickly.“Jay and I home after.”

A light seemed to blink on and she thinks he recognized her, just as quickly his eyes turned somber.

“You’ve gotten big.” He seemed to sniffle, but she isn’t sure if it was because of the cold or if he knows what happened to Jay. But he shook his head before getting back to his duty. “Right, a statement…”

They gave a statement before turning, well Luka turned her, she assumes it’s because of Batman. She feels his stare on her and it really was starting to fucking piss her off.

•••

“You don’t have to go, Marinette. “

“I know I don’t have to, but it’s important to Jagged.” She sighed before waving a hand. “Besides I only met them once, I doubt they remember.”

“If your sure.” Luka asked her again, to which she nodded.

They grabbed their jackets and walked down to the lobby of their hotel.

“You ready to meet and old friend of mine, you two?” Jagged slung an arm around each of their necks the moment they stepped off the elevator.

“As much as we can be.” She smiled as she and Luka linked their hands, while Penny ushered them outside.

“So how are you liking Gotham, Mari?” Jagged asked her after she was staring out of the window a while.

“I’ve been here before. Everything is familiar but different, you know.” She sighed.

“I get it it’s been too long since I was back here.” Jagged tried to get her to talk but dropped it soon enough.

She never forgot her promise and she is living it. She became one of the newest and popular fashion houses in not just Paris but was starting to gain even more traction internationally. Her personal client list was populated by some of the biggest A-listers including Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, Prince Ali, the Tsurugi Family, the Graham de Vanily family, and even the Queen family. She travelled the world to find inspiration, and if she helped s few people with her magical abilities she smiled at their faces. Hell she was named one of the twenty under twenty, the year before for her work with environmental textiles.

Before she knew it the gates of Wayne manor were opening before them. The same intricate iron work she remembered opened into perfectly manicured lawns on either side of the long driveway.

“Jared it’s good to see you.” A cheerful voice called from the doorway, Bruce Wayne.

“Brucie! Ah, your right mate!” Jagged slung an arm around his old friend.

“These must be your boys!”

“This is Dick and Tim.” Bruce smiled placing a hand on each of the two he mentioned. “And are they yours, Jared?”

“My son, Luka, and his sweetheart and my future daughter in law, Marinette.” He waved towards both of them.

“Jagged!” She yelped in embarrassment, but it fell on deaf ears.

“Alfred good to see ya!” Jagged bounce right past the two men and child, towards the eldest gentleman.

Marinette however could feel three sets of eyes on her, and she wanted to scream. Luka tugged on her hand and squeezed, centering her.

“Dinner is ready.” Alfred commanded everyone’s attention, so they made their way to the dining room. They sat down and she tried to avoid eye contact, not really paying attention to the conversation. That is until…

“You look so familiar, we must have met before. Now I remember, Nettie!” Her head snapped up and directly at Dick. “So what have you been up to, Nettie.”

“Please… Please don’t call me that.” She tried to keep her voice level but she knows it is shaking. Her knuckles were turning white as she gripped the napkin in her lap.

“Why not? It’s cute.” The younger boy, Tim, she recalled answered trying to break the tension.

“Because the only person who can call me that is dead.” She got up and started walking out of the room.

“Give her space.” She heard Luka say, probably to Jagged or maybe even the Wayne’s, she isn’t sure.

She was originally going to walk out side but at the last minute she decided to climb the stairs. She only walked this way twice, once when she dumped half of her life’s trauma on this family and the second the morning after.

She turned the handle and it was as if time had frozen. Books piled on the bedside tables. A backpack thrown haphazardly on the desk, notebooks had spilled from it onto the floor. She walked in and sat at the foot of the bed. Model cars, motorcycles, and even engine parts littered the bookshelves. She knows dinner has probably ended but she didn’t move, she wanted to cry, but that feels as if it might be insulting at the moment.

Knock.

Her head snapped from the window, a crescent moon floated low over the trees, towards the door. She doesn’t know who she expected, but it wasn’t Dick, maybe Alfred if she’s honest.

“Room for one more?” He asked quietly. She nodded and walked in, instead of sitting next to her he sat on the ground in front of her. “Im sorry. How? How did you know?”

“It wasn’t like him.” She sighed. “Did you know?”

“Yeah.” He leaned back. “I was so angry with Bruce, he didn’t even tell me I had to find out through the paper.”

She stared at him now. “His death wasn’t in the paper, I was looking for it but it never came. Oh kwamii, please no.”

She covered her mouth, Robin’s death was made public not Jason’s. So if she knows and he knows, the two of them stared at one another.

“Marinette?”

“If Jay was… are you… were you… that means Tim is… so is Bruce… no never mind don’t answer that.” She stood. “Nope. Nope. Nuh-uh!”

She looked at him and he was just staring at her.

“Marinette, how do you know?” He stood and placed a hand on each of her shoulders stopping her from pacing.

“I was there.” Her voice was resolute, staring right at the person who called himself Jay’s brother.

“You saw…” He couldn’t finish his sentence.

“I was angry at you for not telling me, but you didn’t know.”

“Two months, Bruce wouldn’t tell me for two months, and then I snapped.” His eyes turned dark.

“Live.”

“What?” He watched her, pleadingly, as she seemed to pull him from his dark thoughts.

“Live. That was the last thing he said. We were trapped in that warehouse, the bomb, once we noticed it was almost over.” He listened, his grip on her shoulders lessening. “I tried to get us out but the door was stuck, I held him until it exploded. The next second I was back in my apartment before I passed out. I didn’t have enough magic to save us both.”

Tears finally flowed from her, Dick was also crying at this point. They just cried for a while, that is until everyone decided to try and find them. Luka and Alfred were the ones who did.

“I didn’t know.” Dick finally spoke, his voice hoarse, from his tears.

“How could you?” She wiped the last of her tears away.

“We should have said something to you. You were his only friend.”

“Master Dick.” Alfred handed him a handkerchief.

“You truly a Paon, Alfred.” She smiled.

“Tell Jagged I’ll meet you guys back at the hotel, Luka.”

“You better not be planning anything.”

“Me.” She smiled, a glimmer in her eyes. “Never.”

•••

A portal appeared under her and she disappeared.

“Melody.” He called out but he knew she didn’t hear, so he shook his head, a laugh that turned into a grumble. “I better not read about this tomorrow.”

The two others looked at him as if he could explain, but really he doesn’t think he should.

The fact that this man has a miraculous means he can be trusted, but with what he knows he is wary.

She seems to trust both if her song was any indication and they don’t mean to hurt her. But it’s not his secret to tell.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@jennifer-rose123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @joydone07 @mizzy-pop

#maribat #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #dc x miraculous #miraculous x dc #maribat october prompts #maribat spooktober 2023 #maribat marinette #Maribat Luka #maribat dick grayson

[cowboyfromh3ll]

Now it's a request (a bad one I guess?)

Charles Smith x gn!reader (or whatever gender you'd like)

Reader being someone very shy who spends a lot of time with Charles (learning to make arrows, hunting or just being around each other) but is embarrassed to ask him out until he decides it's time to try

(Sorry, this is a really bad request, creativity isn't my strong suit)

Flint and Cedar

(Charles Smith x GN!Reader)

No request is a bad request

Warnings: none

In the summertime, when the sun was high in the sky, various members of the gang would occupy themselves with jobs. Not that it ever stopped in the colder months, it was just much more bearable now. Train and bank robberies, sniffing for leads like Dutch’s hounds, bounty hunting, homestead robbing, anything that would bring the gang money. Yet you took a much more domestic approach. You preferred staying at camp, yet seldom integrated yourself with the camp girls. You did not seek the company of Kieran, Uncle, Reverend, or any of the other homebodies (Not to say that they didn’t try to occasionally speak to you). You would on occasion engage in conversation with the others, but it was evasive and short-lived.

Instead, you found your company in knapping away at stones, striking rocks at one another and using the compression to angle and shape the points of arrows. You would sew day after day, endlessly, ripping apart old shirts, skirts, dresses, and trousers to remake them into new clothes. You’d learned to can every fruit you could scourge. You'd raise and feed chickens, carry around sacks of food, and of course, hunt. This was your company.

And of course, Charles Smith, who taught you most everything you know.

Charles did not force you to talk, he did not demand a conversation, nor did he immediately expect you to have a heart-to-heart with him about why you were so withdrawn, if at all (As others usually badgered you about.). Charles himself was a reserved and quiet man, he kept to his own devices, he did not put up a facade, and he was good company all the same. And in your friendship, he was usually the first one to say anything.

Your first actual interaction consisted of you staring off from where you sat by your tent, looking curiously at what Charles was doing. You watched him repeat the same pattern of percussion and striking in order to form the flint in his hand. His strong hands held the stones, and you watched as the muscles and tendons in his arms and hands tensed as he struck the stones. You hadn’t been aware of how far forward you were leaning until the jagged edge of the box you were sitting on began to poke into your thigh. He noticed your engrossment in what he was doing, but did not think it was silly.

“I’m making arrows, why don’t you come on over. I’ll teach you.” He set what he was doing down and motioned for you to come over, patting the crate next to him. Your back straightened in surprise of being noticed, and you became hyper aware of your every moment as self consciousness invaded your mind. You looked around then back at him before pointing at yourself.

Charles couldn’t help but laugh, which made you visibly blush out of embarrassment.

“Yes, you, don’t be shy.”

Charles did not know that asking that of you was like asking Sean to actually do a job around camp. You softly set down your fabrics and needles, giving them a pat before walking on over to Charles. There was hesitation in the way you sat down, still second guessing whether or not he was actually talking to you. He handed you a flintstone tenderly, a gentleness in his hands that you found oddly comforting. You studied the stone in your hand, noticing one end of it was already jagged and sharp. Before long, he handed you another stone, a different type of stone.

“Here, you’re supposed to hold the flint while striking it with the other stone. But you gotta make sure you angle it right so it gets a nice pointed end.” He explained. He reached for one of the arrow heads and held it up for you to see. “See? It’ll take a bit but you’ve just got to have patience.”

You nodded in understanding, leaning over your own lap as you attempted to chip away at the flint. As chips of it began flying all over your trousers, frustration was evident in your face. You struck it particularly hard, subsequently splitting the stone in half. You sighed, your entire face burning in embarrassment and you wished the earth would open up beneath you and swallow you.

“Sorry..” You muttered. Charles shook his head, but it was not out of disapproval. He cupped his hands beneath yours, allowing you to deposit the stones into his. His hands dwarfed yours, and you could not help but blush from it, deepening the red on your face. The entire time he taught you, not once did you feel patronized by him.

“No worries, we can try again.”

Since then, you began to spend more and more time with Charles. Being around him, you had never felt more understood. It was as if your innermost thoughts and feelings that you believed no one else could commiserate or understand were part of some shared quota between you and Charles. At first, a part of you felt intimately invaded and you shied away, another part of you welcomed the intrusion into your personal life. Yet it never felt like an intrusion.

You soon began sharing the same smoothness in your hands as Charles from handling the stones. And the fondness in your heart for him began to grow as well, yet you could not ever imagine telling him how you feel. The conversations you two shared would increase in intimacy, as you two began to share more and more details of your lives with one another. You learned about his past, and through that, he was able to share many more of the things he learned with you. He taught you to make all kinds of arrows, how to poison knives, how to make bait. And your favorite, he took you on hunting trips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Charles watched you draw the string of the bow back, your arm trembling from the prolonged force as you attempted to steady yourself and aim at your target's head.

“Steady now.” He whispered behind you. But you swore you could feel his breath on your ear, his hands ghosting around your waist as he attempted to get a good look at the animal for you. You choked on air as you lost concentration, his proximity sending riveting shivers up your spine. You released the arrow involuntarily, partially from surprise and the other from exhaustion, and sent your arrow head spearing into a cedar tree instead of the head of the rabbit you intended to kill.

“Gosh! Charles!” You turned your head away, blushing.

“I’m sorry, perhaps I was being overbearing.” He apologized. You shook your head in response, attempting to hide your blush.

“You were a little close is all..” You mumbled. You set your bow down against the tree and slumped against it. “It’s been I don’t know how long and I haven’t been able to catch anything..” You sighed shamefully. You were usually decent at hunting. Probably not as good as Charles, but decent. You never felt a sense of inferiority before, yet lately you did feel an urge to impress him. There was never an underlying tone of competition between you, but there was this thought you had in your head that it had to be enough for him. No matter what you did.

He kneeled down to your level and shook his head.

“(Name), it’s okay. If you don’t catch anything today we can always try again tomorrow.” He gave you a reassuring smile and a nod, one you were barely able to return. He patted your shoulder and gave it a squeeze, letting his hand linger and drift down your arm slightly as he retracted it. A small, easy to miss gesture, but one you promptly picked up on.

Unbeknownst to anyone else, you fancied Charles. It’s not like you ever spoke to anyone around camp about things beyond surface level. You definitely didn’t tell Charles these feelings, and you didn’t have family to write to. So for the first time in a long time, you felt alone with your feelings. And you hated that. Ever since Charles lended you his company you never felt alone. You shared everything with him after all, and to be unable to do so made you feel frustrated and boxed in.

Charles chuckled to himself. “You have that look on your face.”

“What face?” You asked in confusion, perhaps sounding a little harsh. Yet he took no offense.

“When you’re frustrated, you make a face. You scrunch up your nose and eyebrows.” He sat down next to you as you spoke. Your face softened when you realized he was right, the tension in your face evaporating. You looked at each other with a shared warmheartedness as a moment of silence befell you both. That look said all the things you two did not say to each other, and despite that shared yet subtle understanding of tenderness in your feelings for one another, you two remained oblivious to it.

“You’ve been real worked up lately.” He began. He reached into his satchel and undid a cloth containing jerky. He offered the jerky out to you and waited for you to pick a piece. You took a piece, timidly chewing on a corner of the tough meat, not quite biting anything off. You struggled to even look Charles in the eyes anymore.

“A little… I don't know why.” You said briefly. It was fleeting, hasty, and all the things that signified to Charles that you didn’t want to talk about something. Normally he would wait for you to actually warm up to him and tell him on your own terms, but this felt different. Like he had to do something.

Another moment of silence befell you both, the serene yet lively noises of the wood providing you two company. It felt more awkward this time though, the air taut and heavy. The both of you shifted around a little, and in the moments you glanced at Charles you noticed him looking around in thought, opening his mouth slightly to try and start some sort of sentence. You became even more aware of the space you took up, and your heart rate picked up when you realized your leg was touching his. Yet neither of you moved away. Neither of you wanted to move away.

“Say, (Name),” He began, fiddling with the piece of jerky in his lap now. “Do you want to uh, go into Saint Denis with me sometime?”

You looked up in confusion. To your knowledge, Saint Denis was heavily industrialized and far east. And both you and Charles spent your time working outside. So what usefulness could you possibly find there.

“For what?” You asked bluntly in your obliviousness. “Do you need something? Why can’t we go into Valentine? It’s super close to camp, y'know.”

Charles swore he could facepalm, but he made an effort not to, he didn’t want to make you feel stupid for not understanding his proposition.

“I meant, we could do something special.” His voice faltered a little at the end and he cleared his throat. You swore you could see a hint of blush on his cheeks. It took you a moment to realize what he actually meant, but when you did, a timid smile made its way onto your face.

“Oh.” You giggled, looking off again. You suddenly felt jittery as you hugged your knees up to your chest. You dared to look back at him, the two of you looking absolutely smitten, pure adoration written all over your faces.

You knew Charles. And he knew you. And that wasn’t something you could say about anyone else.

.

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I feel like I really amped up the subtlety in romance in this one and I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted ToT I thought it'd be more fitting since both reader and Charles are more reserved and scared to be too direct.

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 x reader #van der linde gang x reader #red dead fandom #writing #charles smith #charles smith x reader #fluff #charles smith fluff #red dead redemption fluff

[sarcasticbambi]

Enchanted Chapter I

Next>

“Why did I agree to come again?”

Was the thought running through the heads of two people, neither knowing how the night would end for them.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you in one of these events, miss…”

“MDC, Monsieur. You can refer to me as MDC”

“Right… MDC you say…”

“...”

“So, what brings you to the Wayne Gala this year? Oh,I hope you understand the curiosity, it is the first time you’re participating in the event after all.”

Just because you make it sound polite, it doesn’t mean you’re actually being polite you-

To say Marinette was done with the fake and pretentious high-class pigs was the understatement of the century. 

Just because you have enough money to be invited here doesn’t mean you’re all that. It just means that M. Wayne will have more money to donate to the associations that will actually use it for something productive.

But then again, she too was invited so it’s not like she can say much. However, she never covered her words with honey to insult someone.

“I’m here as M. Stone’s plus one” “Wasn’t M. Stone’s plus one his manager Ms. Rolling?”

“No! Haven’t you heard? This year he invited his  designer!” 

Here comes the gossip…

“You mean the very exclusive designer known for working with Clara Nightingale and being the only one capable of keeping up with his extravagant personality?”

“I hear they keep themselves anonymous and so never go to galas and such even though many high-profile personalities invite them everytime.”

“THAT designer?”

The way they all turned to look at her could only be described as a predator ready to launch on their prey.

The compliments were very appreciated, even if her confidence sometimes made her think otherwise. Honestly, if it were in any other situation she’d probably be a blushing and sputtering mess, but considering that it came from these old people with nothing to do but flaunt their money all day, well, lets just say that she felt no remorse in putting the mask of professionalism that often came with dealing with annoying press *cough*Alya*cough* as Ladybug. She just wasn’t sure if the red and gold mask was enough to cover the glare she was sure was on her face. It sure wasn’t enough to cover the deadly annoyed aura she emitted.

“Yes, I-”

“M! There you are! Dad and Penny are looking for you!”

“Oh, Luka! I’ll be right with you! I’m sorry ladies and gentlemen, it seems I’m needed somewhere else. Wouldn’t want to leave M. Stone waiting now would we?”

If Marinette saw the pale faces of the people remembering a certain disaster pertaining to the impatience of one Jagged Stone, neither her nor Luka mentioned anything. And so, the pair of best friends left the group of pretentious old people to their gossip and judging words covered with honey so thick it might as well give you cavities. “Is Uncle Jagged really calling for me?”

“No, but I had to intervene, you looked ready to murder those people with your glare alone!” Luka said with a chuckle. “Ugh! Stop laughing, it’s not funny! Why did I even agree to come again! This is exactly why I’ve rejected all of the invitations!!”

“Well, you know how dad can be…” another chuckle

“Don’t I?! He threatened to destroy one of the suits I made him! And not just any suit, but the one specifically  made to open the stage on his upcoming tour!”

“It can’t be that bad, I mean, you made them almost 100% Jagged proof so no accidents could happen right? Even if he tried I’m pretty sure it’d be very difficult to damage them beyond repair”

“Oh no, you don't understand. He threatened to have Fang “play” with the suit! I may have made them Jagged proof, but they’re hardly CROCODILE PROOF!!”

“... You don’t really believe he’d go that far,do you?”

“Oh dear Luka, I don’t need to believe, I know so. And you want to know how I know that? Because he actually had the audacity of sending a picture of the suit dangling in front of Fang and the little menace looking at it like the most delicious snack ever!!!”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

The silence that fell upon them was the comfortable kind, the one that wraps you like a warm blanket on a cold evening. Even though their relationship didn’t work, they didn’t let that get in the way of a very understanding friendship. Both parties know how to appreciate and lift each other up when needed, especially with the weight of the responsibilities held in their shoulders.

“I think I'm going to stay on the side for a bit. I'm pretty sure if I have to continue another one of these fake conversations, I'm going to say or do something I'll regret and maybe get Uncle Jagged in trouble.”

“It’s ok, after a couple months of following dad to these things I know how bad they can be. And by the way, you - more than anyone else really - should know that my dad doesn’t need you being honest with these people to get him in trouble. He gets himself in trouble all the time! Honestly, I can't say with 100% certainty that trouble isn’t somehow his middle name.” The snort that followed this comment was somehow covered well enough to look elegant, how he did it? She’s still trying to figure it out.

“Yeah, I’m well aware” a soft smile appears on Marinette’s face, memories of various chaotic fittings coming to mind when thinking of her honorary uncle. Sometimes she wonders how Jagged and Anarka managed to give birth to the most quiet (and shy, in Juleka’s case) kids she knows, considering their personalities! Kagami is the only exception to the rule since her quietness and composure comes from years of training and discipline.

“I have to go find dad, you know he needs someone to keep him in check and Penny is trying to get a night to herself. Are you sure you’ll be ok?”

“Yes, I'll be fine. Go find him and help Penny keep the few years that Jagged has yet to make her lose to stress” Marinette said with a giggle.

“Ok, but be safe. If you need anything just call and I’ll be right here.”

“I didn’t know I brought my mum with me.” She said with a roll of her eyes “Don’t worry, I’ll just stay on the side of the room, I’ll even text you if I decide to go and check if the gardens are as amazing as they claim.”

“Ok. I’ll see you in a bit then, you know dad wants to introduce you to his friend.”

“Oui, oui, now leave so I can people watch and judge if these macarons are good enough.”

After one last reluctant look at the petite girl he now considers a sister, Luka left to find his dad.

Marinette walks to the table holding the array of snacks and picks up a pink macaron, turning it side to side judging its appearance first and then taking a small bite. It’s not as good as the ones she bakes with her parents back home, but considering all she has eaten in the US in the past week, suffice to say that it was up to her standards. She would not mind having a second one.

Resting her back against the marble pillar at the corner of the room, she settles with people watching for the time being. Wandering bluebell eyes land on the group of kids on the other side of the room where they were playing with each other, before spotting the tall ginger gentleman in a crouch speaking with a little girl. At first she was suspicious, but judging by the little she can see of the interaction - the little girl giggling at something the man said - she relaxes a bit more, guessing it’s someone she knows or is acquainted with.

After people watching for a couple moments more, she gets bored and decides to indeed check the famous Martha Wayne Gardens, perhaps she’ll even get a strike of inspiration, who knows. Sending a message to Luka so he doesn’t worry,  she moves along to the exit, unaware of the little green eyes following her form.

-----------------------------

Roy Harper was definitely not listening to Jason Todd ever again. No matter what.

“It’ll be fun!” he said.

“I’ll be there with you the whole time!” he said.

“Lian will have fun!” he said-

Ok, that last one is true. She is enjoying herself and playing with kids her age outside of school. But still, WHY DID I AGREE TO COME TO ONE OF THESE THINGS? The suits are uncomfortable, the people are annoying, Jason is off somewhere (probably at the bar avoiding the dangling pieces of meat that can’t seem to understand the word ‘no’) the list goes on and on!

Turning around, Roy leaves to go check on the kids. He knows he doesn’t need to worry, the Waynes would obviously only get the best of the best, security included, so he knows his daughter is in good hands. But he still prefers it when he has eyes on his little girl, no need for unnecessary troubles…

And Jason can make fun of how she has him wrapped around her pinky all he wants, later.

Not like you can say much right, Uncle Jay Jay?

Going up to the little kids group, Lian spots him immediately and runs up to him, mischief clear in the same green eyes he sees everyday in the mirror.

“Hey baby. Everything good?”

“Of course daddy, I’m a big girl now! You don't need to go around worrying about me!” she exclaimed, puffing her little chest up and making herself seem taller to get her point across.

“I know princess. I’m sorry for doubting your capability of not getting yourself in trouble or not creating chaos”

“*le gasp* Daddy!” The grin that appeared on his face betrayed the look in his eyes. He would do anything to protect his little girl, mischievous or not. He’d do anything for her, hunt the whole world down for whatever she asked and from whoever had it, if only to be able to keep that smile on her little face everyday.

“I don’t get in trouble! Trouble is the one to always find me! What do you want me to do, ignore it? You yourself said that it was rude to ignore people..”

Oh Lord. She knew exactly what she was doing, and there was absolutely nothing he could do, so with a resigned sigh he looked up at his daughter again and cleans the little bit of cream from the pastry she was eating earlier.

“Was the cream puff so good that even your cheeks wanted a bite?”

“Yes! You should try some yourself!” The little giggle she released hid the glance she threw at the masked lady on the other side of the room.

“Let's go then.”

—----------------------------------------------

Glancing around, the gardens were indeed quite beautiful. It’s a pity that Martha Wayne passed away, because even though it’s been years since the accident and someone else is in charge of it, it’s very obvious that the foundation of the garden is still the same as it was some twenty years ago.

With the care she is sure the gardens receive everyday, she can see why they’re called the best gardens in Gotham after the Gotham Botanical Gardens. But that is only because it’s Ivy who’s taking care of them - it doesn’t matter how good you may be at caring for plants, no one can beat Poison Ivy’s ability of bringing them to the best of their potential. 

It’s not long after moving around the gardens that Marinette hears her name being shouted from the entrance of it. 

guess it’s time to go back to that insanity. It was good while it lasted

Getting up from the bench she found around one of the several fountains, she fixed her dress and moved back inside.

——————————————-

Seeing Lian try and “sneak” another cream puff from him, Roy decides that that’s enough. 

“Come on little troublemaker, enough cream puffs. Your daddy won’t be able to endure another sugar high session.”

Ladies and gentlemen and non-binary people, this single statement brings forth the most challenging battle Roy has ever fought - and if you know about his… nightly past time, you know that he’s had several and very complicated battles, some even had him on the brink of death!

I introduce you, ‘The Pout’, by Lian Harper!

Obviously, Roy can never say no to his precious little girl. Who would be able to after seeing ‘The Pout’. At this point, not even Jason can say he’s managed to achieve such a feat!

“Princess, baby, light of my life, don’t do this to me. Please!”

“But daddy, just one more!” ‘The Pout’ intensifies…

“You said that last time too…”

“I promise! I’ll even get away from the table! We can go outside to the gardens!” 

If Roy wasn’t so desperate to get his daughter away from the pastry and snacks table, he would have been able to identify the glint that appeared in his daughter’s eyes whenever she was up to no good. But alas, he was too busy.

“Ok honey, one last one and that’s that! You promised!”

“Yes, yes. Now let’s go into the gardens! I saw a fairy move there and I DEFINITELY need to meet her!”

“… a fairy?” The look of confusion on his face spoke volumes.

“YES! She was wearing a gold and red dress! And her hair was so pretty too! It shone in the light! I’m pretty sure only fairies’ hair shines like that!”

Thinking it was another one of Lian’s fairytail settings where he’s required to play along and help her uncover mysteries or save someone (*cough*princess Lian*cough*), Roy just sets her down, holds her hands and guides her to the closest balcony. It’s too cold outside for them to actually walk around the garden, but it’ll be fine to stay on the balcony where they can oversee them. Should be enough for whatever adventure Lian’s mind conjured this time. 

—--------------------------

“Daddy look! It’s the fairy!”

Looking out the balcony towards where Lian's small fingers pointed, Roy finally understood what she meant when she said she saw a fairy. 

There, standing in front of the fountain with a glass of what he can only assume to be the expensive champagne being handed around the party, stood the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid his eyes upon. Luscious strands of midnight hair fell down her back only to stop at the small curvature of her back. The strands were so dark it shone blue in the light of the full moon that for once was visible in the dark, gloomy and foggy sky of good old Gotham.

Her red dress fell down to the crisp grass he was sure Alfred kept at the exact same even height every single time. Whoever made the dress, knew for sure what they were doing, because it seemed to float even though he saw it drag through the grass  when she moved. Although there wasn't much he could make out from the distance he was observing her, he could still see the shine of the gold lining and details in the dress with the small movements she made. 

And wasn't that a blessing. Because when she moved, he was able to see a bit more of her features; the pale skin that seemed to glisten in the moonlight, and the blue orbs that shone as bright as the bluest of sapphires to have ever been found, looked in his direction, and he was sure that time stopped right then and there. 

Like some kind of spell, he was entranced by the beauty that stood feet away from him surrounded by the most beautiful of greenery, making her fit for the word his daughter had used to describe her: a fairy. A Garden Fairy. He should tell Alfred that he did such a good job at keeping the garden in shape, that it was blessed by the presence of the most ethereal of fairies.

After a couple seconds of eye contact, her attention was given to something else - probably someone calling her, from the way she seemed to react. And so, after another glance his way, the Garden Fairy (as he’s decided to call her until he finds out her name) turns fully towards the building and starts walking inside, finally vanishing under the big balcony he was standing in.

“Awww, she left Daddy!” his daughter spoke for the first time since getting into the balcony with him. Or he’s assuming it was the first time, since he was completely  entranced by the Garden Fairy and would probably not have heard any comment from his daughter. Which, by her mischievous smirk, was a very accurate assumption.

“She was very pretty wasn’t she? I told you she was! Did you see her hair? I told you it was amazing! I also want hair like hers!!”

“Yes, yes she was. And you were very right, she does have pretty hair. Maybe we should get back inside to get away from the cold and maybe find this Garden Fairy of yours to get some hair tips?”

“That’s a great idea! Let’s go!”

Picking up the 6 years old, Roy turns around to head into the salon, when his daughter gets his attention again. And the look in her eyes? It spelled trouble.

“But Daddy, I never called her Garden Fairy!”

Next>

#maribat #dc x mlb #roynette #marinette dupain cheng #roy harper #liam harper #wayne gala #wingman liam harper #wingman jason todd #jason todd is a little shit #fairies #marinette is MDC

[v-era-18]

HoneyBee

Chapter Six: Thin Patience

‘You’re on thin ice with me. Thin. Fucking. Ice’- (Y/n) (L/n)

6

“Alright, here's the situation. You've all had direct contact with the NBEs,” Simmons started. They had been walking for a bit now, coming into contact with a few soldiers along the way. From what (Y/n) had gathered, they had a near death experience with the decepticons-they were lucky to even be alive. 

“NBEs?” the brown skinned soldier questioned.

“Non-Biological Extraterrestrials,” Simmons quipped, “Try and keep up with the acronyms.”

(Y/n) and Sam locked eyes, minds in sync as to what was going on. They had no clue about what they were dealing with all these years. From what the other man with Simmons had declared her deceased uncle had worked with them closely. Just how much did he keep secret about their true nature? 

“What you're about to see is totally classified.” 

They proceeded through the long dark tunnel, and to say they were all shocked was an understatement. The adults stared up at the large cybertronian in front of them, silver jagged plating was seen along with metal claws big enough to wrap around two statues on a college campus. The optics were black-unlit-but the girl couldn't look away from their faceplate. This was the monster she hid underneath her bed each night from; Megatronus-otherwise known as Megatron.  

“Dear God. What is this?” The general had spoken. 

Banachek looked over to (Y/n) the two making eye contact as he started to move forward, “We think when he made his approach over the north pole, our gravitational field screwed up his telemetry. He crashed in the ice-probably a few thousand years ago. We shipped him here to this facility in 1934.”

“We call him NBE One.” Simmons announced proudly. 

Sam looked at his dear friend, “Uh, (Y/n) I think it's time to correct them don't you think?”

The crowd looked towards the girl, she wasn't paying attention to them, simply staring at the war terrorist her grandfather warned her about. When's the last time she read about this monster? Was it three years? She was pretty sure it was longer. It was funny, every last detail in the book was true about his stature-his looks-his gaze-.

“Correct us?” Simmons questioned in disbelief. 

The girl scoffed, finally tuning in, “Yea, no offense. But I think my uncle let this limited information go far too long,” She looked over at Banachek, sympathy lacing her eyes,” You got everything wrong. He is not NBE One, he's Megatron. Cyberons most fiercest war terrorist and leader of the Decepticons; you see-it was him that led to the fall of their own planet. Killing millions of his own kind to achieve one thing,” 

She looked at them venom lacing her tone, “Power,”  

Simmons stepped towards her, the two having a non verbal conversation. The man's eyes scream one thing, ‘continue’.

 “ In fact he wasn't even the fist one here, there have been other ‘NBEs’ actually known as Cybertronians-” 

“(Y/n),” Sam whispered hastily, “Let's not give them a proper history lesson right now alright-!”

“No,” The general stepped forward. “Let the girl talk, she seems to know a lot more than we do.” 

(Y/n) turned to Banachek, “How long has he been like that?” 

“He’s been in cryostasis since 1935.” He turned to Sam, a proud resolve, “Your great-great-great grandfather and your (GG/n) made one of the greatest discoveries in the history of mankind.” 

“Second greatest,” (Y/n) corrected, “Of cybertronian knowledge perhaps. The first one you guys know of though. It's just not considered the first is it?” 

Simmons turned to her in shock, “How did you-” 

She simply pulled out the necklace, it had started to emit a glow of blue since she arrived, “I'm going to ask you this only once; Where is Estella? Aka NBE two.” The two men looked at each other in disbelief and concern, causing the girl to frown. “There's no need to hide it now I know you guys have her here.” 

“That's the thing,” Simmons responded, “Your uncle used to have the password to her area, now it's gone-along with his memory.” 

The necklace fell back on the girl's chest, her confidence crumbling, “ What? But my grandmother told me-,” 

“The information was confidential, no one knows about the slip up, hence why we can only deeply apologize that there will be no closer that you're looking for.” said Banachek. The two looked at each other for a long moment until when no one was looking the man sent a quick wink her way-giving her everything she already needed to know. Her uncle wasn’t foolish, he made sure at least two or three people had that password. 

“Fact is, you are looking at the source of modern age,” Simmons continued, “the microchip, lasers, spaceflight, cars, all reverse-engineered by studying him-NBE One. That's what we call it.” 

“Him,” (Y/n) corrected once again, the agent turned to her agitated. It was clear as day he was clearly jealous of her family and the secrets they held, but she wouldn't put it past them-judging from their dead set ‘facts’ they came up with she wouldn't want to share important information with them either. 

“And you didn't think the United States military might need to know that you're keeping a hostile alien robot frozen in the basement?” The general questioned.

“Until these events, we had no credible threat to national security.” 

“Well you got one now!” 

Lennox finally decided to speak, “So why earth?” 

“It's the allspark,” (Y/n) answered his question. 

“All spark? What is that?” 

The girl wanted to throw her family book at their head in response. At this point they were using her as a damn dictionary rather than a well informed individual. Everyone seemed useless in this situation rather than Sam and Mikaela. She turned to her best friend, waving a hand saying he had the floor. 

“Well, yeah, they came here looking for some sort of cube looking thing.” The teenage boy tried to explain. 

God dammit Sam!

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, “How many times have I told you Sam, it's practically the most sacred thing on their planet and has the power to bring back life itself! Its the most important we get it before he does-” 

“Anyway,” Sam held up his hand in sass, “Mr. NBE One here, aka Meagtron-that's what they call him, whos pretty much the harbinger of death-just like (Y/n) told you-wants to use the cube to transform human technology to take over the universe,” They turned back to his friend a cocky look on his face, “That's their plan.”

The girl pursed her lips, “I don't know if I want to slap you because you cut me off or give you a high five because you actually remembered everything I told you.” 

Simmons paused for a moment, “And you two are sure about that?” 

“Yeah,” 

“Yep,” The two synced. 

(Y/n) smirked immediately knowing where this is going to go, “You guys know where it is, don't you?” 

Banacke looked between the two of them, “Follow me.” 

The two teens looked at each other before following suit along with the soldiers behind them. (Y/n) continued to survey her surroundings as she took in the atmosphere of the place as they walked through the narrow hallways, she couldn't believe her own uncle-the one she didn't know she had-walked through these halls numerous times and still kept secrets from the government about a cybertronians true nature. 

“You're about to see our crown jewel,” Simmons led them into a yellow bricked room with old pictures of seven men hung along the wall. She was surprised that her and Sam's grandfathers were not there. They did make history after all. 

(Y/n)’s mouth dropped at the sight before her, a geeky smile tracing her plump lips as she gazed through the window. It was beyond what she had imagined of the cube to look like, the spare object was as tall as the large cavern of the building, nearly taking up the whole space of the room itself. Down below she could see scientists working diligently as they examined it, she found it a bit cruel her family hid its fully functioning nature-it would've saved them years of research. 

Sam chuckled beside her, “Better than what you imagined?” 

“Yeah,” His friend uttered breathlessly, “It is.” 

The agent cut into their comfortable atmosphere, “Carbon dating puts the Cube here around ten thousand BC,” The man informed looking at (Y/n), “The first seven didn't find it until 1913.They knew it was alien because of the matching hieroglyphics on the Cube as well as NBE One. President Hoover had the dam built around it. Four football fields thick of concrete, a perfect way to hide its energy from being detected by anyone or alien species on the outside.” 

The girl froze for a moment before slowly turning to him, “Sir, with all do respect I don't think everything was thought through,” The Agents and Soldiers looked at her confused, “You said that this was the perfect way of hiding its energy from aliens on the outside correct?” 

“Yeah,” Simmons scoffed

She stepped up to him with her stance firm, “There's two whole aliens in this facility. And you didn't think that maybe one of them would wake up and take it away? Especially the bringer of death NBE One?”

This stunned the others in the room, Sam breathing faint “holy shit” as it dawned on him that they really messed up in regards to that calculation. 

But Banachek didn't waver, only nodding at her instead , “I understand that concern but NBE One has shown no activity ever since he was found by Witwicky.”   

(Y/n) only hummed but it didn't ease the pit rumbling at the bottom of her stomach. There were warning signs practically ringing in every direction for her in regards to this whole ordeal, with Megatron here and the Deceipticons looking for him it wasn't safe for the cube to be down here, nor was it safe for them to be down here when a potential bomb goes off. Did they honestly want her to believe that Megatron wasn't playing them all this time? Estel most definitely would have warned them if she hadn't been offlined, she loved the human race too much to do so-from what she gathered from her grandmother anyway.  

“Wait back up,” The lady cut in, “You said the dam hides the Cubes energy. What kind exactly?” The question seemed to be for her, but she ignored it and waited for the agents to answer instead. Her mouth was getting dry from answering too many questions. 

“Good question,” 

It wasn't long before they were taken to another enclosed room, what stood out the most was the big blue transparent box with men surrounding it. The wires and small room could only tell her one thing that this was a form of an experiment room of some kind. “Please step inside. They have to lock us in.” 

She stood beside Sam and Mikeala, the girl noticed their hands intertwined with one another's for a minute-just a glimpse-and decided to clasp her own hands together in reassurance. Although her mind did drift back to a certain soft big hand and sharp blue eyes-.

Fuck. Now wasn't the time for her mind to wander. 

“Oh wow,” Epps uttered, looking at the scratches along the wall. They didn't seem too big but they were long and sharp enough to penetrate through metal, “What's that? Freddy Krueger done been up in here or something?”   

“Oh, no, man,” The hacker argued, “Freddy Kruegar has four blades, man. That's only three. That's Wolverine!” The man laughed and (Y/n) did for a bit stopping when she saw Sam's done expression. 

“That's very funny,” Simmons said with a straight face. The laughter was gone when they noticed his serious tone. “Anybody have any mechanical devices? BlackBerry? Key alarm? Cell Phone?”

The man went through his pockets, “I got a phone,” He tossed to Simmons. 

They headed over to the blue box in the room each being handed a pair of goggles, (Y/n) stared anxiously as Simmons placed the phone inside the box shutting it tightly 

“Okay,” Simmons whispered, “Nokias are real nasty. You gotta respect the Japanese, they know the way of the samurai.” 

“Nokia is from Finland.” The woman might as well keep it to herself, there was no correcting the agent. 

The afro haired girl grimaced, her grandmother had a Nokia. 

“Were able to use the Cubes radiation and funnel it into that box,” Simmons started flipping the devices on to start up the machine 

They watched the gadget hover over the phone before a blue laser contracted into the metal device below. The girl got goosebumps as she heard the familiar sound before the phone transformed right before their eyes. She couldn't believe it, the cube could actually give life!

“Bro what the-” 

“Wow,” (Y/n) muttered in amazement. She leaned in closer to get a better look along with Micheala, the new cybertronian didn't like the attention and proceeded to ram itself in their direction. It was a good thing it only hit the glass, but the two girls did lean back when it proceeded to shoot at its barrier. 

“Mean little sucker, huh?” 

(Y/n) hummed, “Mean and confused.” 

“Man that thing is freaky!” 

It got worse from there, the bullets and shots were cracking the box. The little guys were close to its escape, Simmons wasn't going to allow it. The gasp the girl let out was involuntary as a large shock ran through the box killing the new life instantly. She immediately grabbed onto Sam, anxiety racking through her, as she thought about the black and yellow scout. 

“S-Sam,” the girl whispered, “Bumblebee.” 

As soon as the words left her lips the lights started to flicker overhead as well as an alarm sounding off. Her heart hammered in her chest, she knew that this would happen-that this facility wasn't the safest with  the war terrorists here along with the cube. It was practically a suicide wish. 

“They're here,” (Y/n) announced. 

The general nodded to her in agreement, “Gentlemen, they know the cube is here” 

“Along with their leader,” 

“Banachek, what's going on?!”

“The NBE One hanger has lost power-” 

“What?!” 

“The backup generator is just not gonna cut it!” 

“I told you so,” (Y/n) looked at Simmons, “Putting them both in the same place is a room for disaster-” 

Sam sighed, “(Y/n)! Really?” 

“I'm just making sure he knows their mistake!” Sure it wasn't the time to be petty, but she told them that it wasn't a good idea and they completely brushed her off. It felt good to show these smart asses she was right. 

Lenoxx made his way over quickly, “Do you have an arms room?” 

Oh. Guns against large robot aliens. How nice. 

They were all flushed out of the room in haste, Sam made sure to have a good grip on the two girls as they followed behind the soldiers closely. 

“Everyone into the NBE One Chamber now!” 

The area was a mess, she watched so many people running all over the place in adrenaline. Anticipation and fear clouding their eyes at the situation at hand, she could only imagine the amount of scientists who did not sign up for the fighting part on the field, only the endless studying that would be conducted over the course of their lifetime. 

That's why when they were running down the hall shye almost forgot the most important person she wanted to see, even though she tried to halt her movements Sam only strengthened his hold. The boy had his nerves on edge, making sure his best friend stayed by his side at all times; and she could understand that, it hasn't been the best twenty four hours. 

“They're popping our generators!”

This only made the girl try to turn in the other direction once more, “Sam! We have to get to Bumblebee-” 

“I know! Give me a second to get them to understand.” 

Sam didn't mean to snap at her, she knew he didn't. From the way his eyes were blown open, face drenched in sweat to the distressed crease of his brows. It was a good thing they eventually made it to the room, the teens watched as the soldiers and men started to arm themselves. Of course (Y/n) tried to grab for one only for Epps to quickly take it away. 

“Uh uh, until you're properly trained with this thing-you're not holding one,” 

The lights started to go off again causing the room to still for a moment, everyone's breaths heightened-eyes wide with fear. (Y/n) has had enough and stormed up to Simmons. 

“You gotta take us to see Bumblebee,” 

The agent looked at her baffled, “Who-?” 

“My car! She's talking about my car,” Sam butt in, “You have to take us to go see him. He knows exactly what to do with the cube!” 

Simmons shook his head, “The car? It's confiscated.” 

“Then un-confiscate it!”

“We don't know-” 

A gun was held to the side of the agent's head, the room went still, “Listen here asshole! I’m frankly sick and tired of running in circles with you fucking government heads thinking you know everything when you dont,” There was guns drawn, some men aiming at the afro haired girl while others where aimed at the sector seven men as shouts started to fill the room. But she ignored them, along with Sam's pleas to put it down.

“Now that I have all of your attention, let me explain this to you quickly since we don't have enough time. Right now you have two options,” The girl turned her head to the other men in the room to make sure they were listening, “One, we can continue to have an autobot scout-the one trying to save our planet-still confiscated by your men and have the decepticon leader-Megatron the war terrorist- leave with the cube and terrorform this planet. Or Number Two, you un-confiscate Bumblebee-Sam's car- give him the cube getting to the other autobots to save this planet.” 

The girl looked back at Simmons, cocking an eyebrow, “Which will it be?” The agent was taking too long to answer, so she added to her statement, “Or you can take too long to answer, and I take matters into my own hands and kill you and save the world myself.” 

Simmons laughed nervously, “With what army?” 

“The ones behind her,” Lennox chimed in, “I was going to take you down myself, but the little lady seems to have beat me to it.” 

“Drop your weapon, Baby girl,” Epps uttered softly, “We got this.” 

(Y/n) didn't listen, only staring at the man in front of her with anguish between her eyes. The gun felt foreign in her hand, it didn't feel like a toy; it was cold, heavy and deadly. Three things she used to be afraid of, the same thing she was so used to having pointed at her only for it to be placed in her hands. 

The agent recognized the look in her eyes and his frown deepened, “That look is so familiar, your uncle used to have it all the time within the first years on me being here,” The girl did not smile or waver, simply held the gun to his head, “ Your not gonna give me the option are ya?” 

“Listen to me closely,” The girl leaned in , her eyes slitted, “You're on thin ice with me. Thin. Fucking. Ice.” 

“Agent Simmons,” The general spoke up.

The agent's eyes stayed locked on the girl, “Yes sir?” 

“I'd do what she says,” He spoke clearly, “Losing isn't for any of these guys, and from what I've learned-neither is it for this girl.” 

A moment of silence. 

Simmons looked back and forth between (Y/n) and the general before nodding his head, silently agreeing, “Alright, alright, alright. You want to lay the fate of the world on these kids' camaro? That's cool.” 

The girl retracted the gun with a heavy breath released, she looked back at Epps and tried handing the gun back over. (Y/n) felt like a little kid going behind her parents back and getting another toy after the first one was taken away, it was what she just did. She grabbed another gun when the lights were flickering when the soldier was distracted. 

The soldier simply shook his head, “No you keep it. You're gonna need it later.” 

“I don't want it. It feels wrong to hold it.” She admitted softly. 

“Trust me,” Lennox placed a hand on her shoulder, “As a soldier who has fought as long as we have. Sometimes we don't like picking these things up, there's a huge responsibility behind it. And it's heavy. Trust me when I say this-that decision you just made was needed; and not everyone could have had the courage to do what you just did.” 

~ ✯ ~

It was haunting, (Y/n) doesn't think she could ever get it out of her mind. The pained whirrs she heard coming from the cybertronian was heard all the way down the hall, causing the girl to run faster than the rest of the men. Sam and Mikeala were right behind her, their pace catching up with each foot leading them to the double doors. 

The afro haired girl pushed through the doors screaming out for the scout, shoving past security, “Let him go! Bumblebee!” 

“Stop!” 

Sam grabbed a man stopping the icing process the best he could along with Mikeala doing the same on the other side. The three teens were quick with their pace, grabbing and disarming the men as Banachek and Simmons ordered everyone to stand down in the room. The pained whirrs slowly diminished but the girl could still hear the discomfort Bumblebee had, he was confused and upset. 

“Bee!” (Y/n) watched as the scout sat up at the shout of her voice, his optics immediately locking on hers, “Are you okay? Can you move? Are you okay-”

“They didn't hurt you right?” Sam cut in.

Bumblebee grew annoyed, frustration building as he activated his helmet, rolling over and aiming his cannon and the previous offenders that had him strapped down to the table. Sometimes it was so hard for the scout to love humankind, the list just got longer with the many things they have done to him on this planet. He waved it around for a moment making sure no one else was going to hurt him before freezing, noticing movement in the corner of his optics. 

(Y/n) had stepped forward, hands in the air with an anxious expression, “Easy, they won't hurt you anymore I promise. Not while I'm here.” The scout had frozen still looking at her before slowly lowering the cannon, then completely transforming it back into a servo once more. He pointed to her, catching her off guard-her expression was confused for a moment before a realization dawned on her. “M-me? Oh-oh I'm okay, see I'm in one piece.” 

Bumblebee wasn't convinced. This only made him more upset. 

“Listen the cube is here and the Decepticons are coming,” Sam cut to the chase. He noticed the bot's frustration with his friend's lie, and decided to move this along before something else would transpire. 

The scout rolled off the tabel-if they would even call it that-and still proceeded to have his helmet on his head using his servo to cover (Y/n) as she was the closest charge next to him. 

“D-don't worry about them, they wont do anything! Alright, they're not gonna hurt you” Sam turned back to the other men and crowd surrounding the frustrated Autobot in the room, “Just back up a little bit, he's friendly.” The boy turned to (Y/n) looking between her and the larger robot. She didn't get what he was trying to convey at first but quickly caught on. 

Sam wanted her to calm Bumblebee down. At first she was confused, although they were both his charges the scout hadn't calmed down in the slightest from her friend's reassurance. What would make her attempts any different? The girl thought back to the moment the two had in front of that door, the turning of the handle together before going inside. 

“Who said you have to do it alone?” 

“Hey! Hey, hey,” (Y/n) stepped in front of the scout waving her arms around catching his heated gaze. She understood his frustration and the fear of being hurt-ti be put back in the position he just got out of. He was willing to be taken by the willingly so they wouldnt hurt anyone, only to go through so much torture. “C-can you just-can you just focus on me for a second?” 

Bumblebee did, and to make sure she knew he was concentrating only on her he keeled to get closer to the female down below. Upon looking at her closely she had a bandage on her elbow along with a few bloody spots on her jeans and shirt. The cuts and spots were not big so he did not fret about it too much, but something moved within his spark from the girl who was looking up at him. Shere concern was laced across her features, eyebrows creased in nerves whereas her eyes scanned his face for emotions he was trained not to show. 

It was a reflex of war. Never show your enemies your emotions-they'll use it against you. No human was to be trusted in the room until further notice. 

“I know it must have hurt-what they did to you. But the actions of these people shouldn’t determine the fate of the rest of the human race,” (Y/n) spoke softly, “They hurt me, Sam, and Mikeala too-that's the thing about us humans we hurt each other and we make mistakes. And we need your help to fix a huge mistake.” 

The afro haired girl took a few cautious steps forward before placing a soft hand against one of the mech's digits, “Can you do that for me Honeybee?” 

Bumblebee stilled for a moment, his radio flaring to life as his whole form grew warm. The girl waited patiently, smiling softy up at him, understanding he was finding the words to say in this situation. However she hadn't expected that response.  

“Anything you desire sweetheart,”

#bumblebee x black reader #bumblebee x reader #bumblebee #transformers x reader #transfromers #transformers bayverse #sam witwicky #mikaela banes #Youtube

[timetravelassasin]

Married?! Part 2

A/N: This is a part 2 of this post . I hope you guys like it.

@taewinterbear95, @maanae, @swaggermcjagger @missmadwoman : This is Damian's Point of View. I hope you guys enjoy it.

~⚔~🧵~⚔~🧵~⚔~🧵~⚔~🧵~⚔~🧵~⚔~🧵~⚔~🧵~⚔~🧵~⚔~🧵~⚔~

It had been months since he had last seen his wife and he hated to admit that he missed her. Everything he saw reminded him about her. He planned to go visit her soon especially because he wanted to get away from his family. He checked his calendar and sent a notice that he would be out of the office.

"Master Damian, Breakfast is ready," Alfred said, walking into his room.

"I'll be down in a bit," he sighed, grabbing his phone and adjusting his shirt.

Damian walked down the stairs and into the dining room to hear the ruckus he calls siblings. He took his usual seat by his father and turned to everyone. He gave them a nod before starting to eat. After breakfast Alfred brought out a dessert. He didn't know what it was but it had macaroons and they instantly reminded him of his wife.

"I miss my wife," Damian sighed, picking up a macaroon.

"Your What?!," they all yelled.

"She loves macaroons and always has some on her," he sighed, biting the French cookie.

"Damian, sorry but did you say wife," Dick asked, confused.

"Yes, Mother kidnapped me a while back and was forced into a magical blood-bound marriage contract with the heir of this secret Order. We meet every chance we get. It's pretty fun," he said, finishing his cookie.

"Wait, hold up Demon Spawn is married. Is this girl ok in the head or something," Jason commented.

"My wife is exquisite she can take you down in under five minutes," Damian said, proudly.

"Do you have a picture of your wife," Dick asked.

"Of course I do, She is my wife and I love her very much," Damian answered, proudly taking his phone out and displaying the photo of his wife.

"Wait, I know that girl. Um where from," Tim said, thinking.

"She is pretty. Where does she live," Dick asked.

"She lives in Paris, France. I plan to go visit her soon," Damian answered, eating another macaroon.

"Wait, is that why you have been going to Paris to see your wife," Dick said.

"Of course, why else would I travel there," Damian said, taking his phone back.

"Damian, what is her name," Tim asked, curious.

"I will not be telling you because you will most likely run a background check on her. I trust her now if you'll excuse me I need to make a call," Damian said, getting up and walking away.

He walked back to his room and dialed Marinette's number. It rang for a while before she answered.

Good morning Angel, I called asking if you had time off for me to visit," he said.

"Oh, I see well I should have time off next week if you wish to come visit," she answered.

"Do you have any commissions at this time. I wish to visit you much sooner," he said, grabbing his suitcase from the closet.

"I do not mind. I do have a commission for Uncle Jagged,"

"Then I shall see you in two days time. I cannot wait to see you soon my Angel," he said, packing some clothes.

"Oh, then I shall see you in two days. I as well," she said before hanging up.

Damian spent the day packing and calling the office to double check that they knew he'd be out of the office for a while. The next day he wrapped up whatever files needed to be wrapped up and finally prepared to go visit his wife. He made sure to text her when he got on the plane and when he arrived. As he made his way to grab his suitcase he saw her waiting for him. She looked just as beautiful as the day he first saw her. Two cups of what he would guess was coffee were in her hand as she smiled at him.

"Angel, I missed you dearly," he said, going in to hug her.

"I missed you as well mon amour," she smiled, returning the hug.

"Ah, so this is your wife. She is adorable," Dick said, from behind them.

"I swear she looks so damn familiar I don't know where from," Tim said, looking thru his phone.

"Hey Demon Spawn she actually looks like someone that can take me down," Jason said, looking at them.

"What are you doing here," Damian asked, glaring at his brothers.

"We wanted to meet your wife of course why else," Dick smiled.

"Hi my name is Richard Grayson, nut you can call me Dick. I am Damian's older brother. That's Jason Todd and Tim Drake. It's nice to finally meet you," Dick said, walking up to Marinette.

"Hello, my name is Marinette Dupan-Cheng. It's nice to finally meet you. Damian has mentioned you," Marinette smiled.

"Wait, Marinette Dupan-Cheng as in MDC as in the world's most famous and exclusive fashion designer MDC," Tim said shocked.

"Yes, that is me. It's a pleasure to meet you all," she smiled.

"Oh my God, I have been trying to get a commission from you but your slots get full so fast. If he ever does anything to hurt you I will gladly hurt him for you," Tim said, excitedly.

"As if I would hurt her. She is much stronger than I am and plus her little gods would destroy me before you get the chance," Damian said.

"Which reminds me they are all excited for you to visit. Now let's head home. I still need to finish the commission for Uncle Jagged," Marinette smiled.

"Wait, Uncle Jagged do you mean Jagged Stone," Jason asked, following them.

"Yes, that is him. He is actually in the city maybe we can meet him for lunch one day mon amour," Marinette answered.

"Oh, I would love you if you let me join you," Jason said.

They headed back to the apartment that Marinette and Damian owned. The guys found out more about Marinette and instantly fell even more in love with her. They also claimed her as their sibling after finding so many interest in common.

#timetravelassasin fics #marinette x damian #daminette #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous marinette

[steves-strapcollection]

here i have found some peace of mind [WIP Wednesday Snippet]

This is from my "Steve is a group housing coordinator (like I am irl) and Eddie is a rockstar who's coming to Steve's hotel except due to a typo and Eddie being an idiot, Steve thinks he's been talking to the tour manage, 'Chris Cunningham' the whole time" AU so yeah, Chris? Is Eddie. It's Eddie. He's dumb. Also, in this fic Steve is trans! It's just... important that y'all know that.

“Heya, Stevie! You kinda sound like shit, man.”

Steve laughed humourlessly, even as something loosened in his chest at hearing Chris’ voice. “Thank God someone knows how to use my actual name,” he blurted before he could stop himself.

There was a pause before Chris sternly said, “Of course. What sort of asshole doesn’t use your actual name if they know it?”

“You’d be surprised,” Steve said vaguely, minimizing his emails so he didn’t have to look at them while on the phone with Chris. “What’s up, Chris?”

“Honestly? I’m just kind of bored and I missed chatting with you yesterday,” Chris replied, and his tone was so sincere that Steve felt bad that he was in such a messed up mood. “I know you’re on the clock, but if you have time…?”

Steve tapped his pencil against his notebook as he considered. He was in a rotten mood, but he already felt himself settling back into his skin, feeling a lot less jagged and wrong just after a couple minutes listening to Chris’ voice. That was a bit scary to consider, given the nature of their relationship. This guy shouldn’t have that much power over Steve’s moods, yet he did.

Remembering Robin’s suggestion from the day before, Steve decided to try that.

“Listen, Chris, I’ve had a really shitty day and talking about myself would suck for you,” Steve started slowly, taking a deep breath. “Maybe you could tell me about you? It feels like I do most of the talking…”

There is another long pause. “I dunno, man, there isn’t much to say about myself…”

Steve’s stomach dropped at the deflection. So, did that mean the interest was just casual on Chris’ end? He didn’t want to open up because he was just looking for a quick fuck, nothing more? Steve lied to himself and decided he could live with that, probably.

“Okay, sure. I’ll have to talk to you some other time then,” Steve said, his voice going tight.

“Steve, wait, don’t hang up. I didn’t—there’s just not a lot to talk about that isn’t already all over the internet, y’know?” Chris laughed a bit and added very quietly, “like, I’m surprised we’re even still talking at all at this rate.”

Steve frowned at the last bit, and reconsidered his decision not to sleuth out who the band was. Was there some shady details surrounding Chris Cunningham or the band he was managing the tour for?

“Dude, you—I haven’t even looked up the band you’re managing. I have no idea who you or the band is,” Steve admitted, and the startled laugh he received brought a smile to his face. “Besides, why would I take what the internet says about you when I could get the real details directly from the source? Would you look at my socials and decide you knew me just based on that?”

Chris chuckled. “I mean, I have peeked at your socials, Steve,” he confessed and Steve felt his blush all the way down to his bellybutton. “I didn’t do much digging, I promise! I just—I’m very visual and wanted to put a face to your voice.”

“No, you’re all good, my public socials are, well, public for a reason,” Steve said with a laugh, chewing his lip a bit. “You, uh, like what you saw?”

Chris gave a quiet groan. “You’ve no idea, big boy,” he confessed softly, his voice deep and rumbling through the line, raising goosebumps up the back of Steve’s neck. Then Chris took a deep breath and asked, “okay, Stevie, what do you want to know about me?”

Everything, Steve almost said and he barely stopped himself. “You mentioned your uncle once. Can you tell me about him?” he said instead, and Chris’ laugh was beautiful.

“My Uncle Wayne, literally one of the best things to ever happen to me, honestly,” Chris sighed.

“Only one of the best things?” Steve questioned curiously.

“I mean, the band actually making it makes that list,” Chris laughed, then added, “getting to talk to you is on there, too.”

“Shut up,” Steve laughed, blushing at how genuine Chris managed to make that absolute line sound. “Okay, tell me about your uncle.”

The next couple weeks passed with daily phone calls from Chris where he vaguely talked about his life prior to the band taking off, about the band mates and their antics. He mentioned a YouTube channel briefly once, and Steve was tempted to find it but… he liked getting to know Chris without that crutch. Steve liked the mystery of not knowing what Chris looked like.

Steve was really smitten with the way Chris talked about the people in his life, the way his tone would turn so painfully affectionate that Steve could see the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Did Chris have dimples? He hoped Chris had dimples. Steve was always a sucker for dimples. Steve couldn’t help but wonder if Chris told his friends about their conversations, and if Chris spoke about him with that same tone.

If Steve also became a bit more active and a bit sluttier on his socials knowing Chris was maybe monitoring them, that was his business.

Aaaaaand, the taglist! @thegingerrapunzel, @xenon-demon, @extra-transitional, @patchworkgargoyle, @mylilplanet, @inairbinad, @scarcrossdlvrs, @indigohightide, @steve-harringtits

#steddie #steve x eddie #wip wednesday #gerry writes

[senseigrace]

Take These Broken Wings and Learn to Fly (Part Three.)

Here's part three! I hope you all enjoy!

When dinnertime came around, Lloyd had no idea what to do. 

He wasn’t embarrassed of his new features, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready for everyone to see them. 

Kai and Nya’s reactions had been pretty predictable, and Master Wu’s made sense after finding out more about what had happened when he was younger, but everyone else… 

Lloyd looked in the mirror in his closet. 

It had taken him a long time to get used to seeing the person in the mirror who stared back at him. It had been almost impossible for him to look in the mirror after the Tomorrow’s Tea hit him, but over time he had gotten used to his body. 

Now he felt like he was back at square one. 

The horns that popped out of his head pushed his hair in the wrong direction, ruining the style that he found comfortable and fitting for his face. 

His eyes, even if they weren’t purple anymore, glowed brighter than they had before. He doubted that anyone else would really notice it, but it was just another reminder to him that he was far from human… 

His new fangs popped out if he even thought about smiling or opening his mouth at all. 

And the wings… 

It was the first time he had gotten a good look at them. 

He wasn’t surprised that they were gold and green. Destiny had a way of playing with him and his emotions that way. Everything of his had to be green, and if it wasn’t it was gold. The same color as the power he had lost to The Overlord. 

The wings weren’t as big as they felt, but that didn’t mean that he would be able to just hide them away. In fact, he doubted that would even be possible. There was no way that he would be able to get clothing that would comfortably hide them. 

Lloyd couldn’t help but think about what his uncle had told him earlier. 

Master Wu had promised that he would never let anyone clip Lloyd’s wings, but that was only part of the problem. 

Yes, his wings were strong and healthy for growing wings, but that didn’t mean that they were strong enough to survive a wound from a sword that would be lucky enough to hit. 

He would have to learn to fight all over again. Could he even do spinjitzu right now? Or would the wings get in the way? 

There was nothing he could do about it though. He couldn’t change the way he looked, he couldn’t change the path destiny had put him on. 

He had to learn to adapt. He had to learn to accept. 

Just like he had accepted the green gi. 

Just like he had accepted the Tomorrow’s Tea. 

Lloyd let out a shuddering breath. He could do this. He would be fine. 

He had been through so much worse, why was this what was tripping him up? It was just a change in his physical appearance. How was it all that much different from the way his skin had become permanently paler after he had been possessed? 

He tried to shake the crushing weight off of his shoulders and back, but he couldn’t. How could he shake off the wings? The actual cause of the weight? 

And how could he shake off the not so subtle warnings that he would be in even more danger now that he didn’t look like a human anymore. 

He reached up and tried to get his hair to lay right around the horns, but it wouldn’t. He would have to figure out how to style it differently or come to terms with the fact that it would never be the way he wanted it again. 

The horns weren’t large. In fact, they were only a few inches tall. They could just barely be seen over his hair. They were smooth too, nothing like the tall, jagged horns that Garmadon had. 

Lloyd sighed a frustrated sigh, then looked out his window. The sky was going dark, the sun setting on the other side of the monastery. 

He was hungry. He could feel the hunger pains tightening in his stomach. 

But he wasn’t sure if he wanted everyone to see him yet. 

He knew that none of the ninja would hurt him, he knew that they wouldn’t bully him, but… He knew that they would stare, that they would talk behind his back about what to do about these new changes… 

Nya might have been the sea, Cole may have been a ghost, but they had been able to change that. 

Lloyd was a hybrid who no longer looked human, and there was nothing they could do to fix that. Plus, he was their leader. He would always be at a higher risk of injury than the rest of them. 

Could he even protect himself right now? Would he be able to fight off someone who wanted to hurt him? 

He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering back to Master Wu. He was the son of the First Spinjitzu Master, one of the most powerful beings in all of Ninjago, and yet… He had been overtaken and tortured, his wings had been cut off. 

He had seen his uncle fight, it took a lot to take him down even in his old age. How had someone been able to take him down when he was young? 

Lloyd’s thoughts were cut off by the sound of someone knocking on the door. 

“Who is it?” he called. 

“It’s me,” Kai said. “Can I come in? I brought you some dinner.” 

Lloyd sighed, then walked over to the door and opened it. “Hey,” he said. 

Kai smiled at him, but Lloyd found it almost impossible to smile back. In his hands there was a tray full of food though, a lot of them seemed to be Lloyd’s favorites. 

“Zane made all of it,” Kai promised. “No need to worry about food poisoning on top of everything else.” 

Lloyd nodded as Kai put the food on his desk. “Thanks,” he whispered softly. 

Kai shrugged. “What are brothers for?” he said, then his face became more serious. “How are you doing?” 

Lloyd sighed as he walked over and sat on his bed. “I’m doing okay,” he said. “Nothing really hurts anymore.” 

It was true. His wings had stopped hurting, as had his fangs. Of course, he wasn’t doing all that great internally, but he didn’t need to get into that right now. 

“What did Sensei want earlier?” Kai asked as he sat down in the chair at Lloyd’s desk.

Lloyd looked up at him, then frowned. A lot of what Master Wu had told him was personal stuff, things that Lloyd was sure his uncle didn’t want being common knowledge. 

“He just wanted to make sure I was okay,” he said. “And to tell me that this is all normal apparently.” 

“At least it’s normal,” Kai said as he leaned forward in the chair he was sitting in. 

In a way, Kai made a good point. At least this was something that could have been expected and anticipated. It sort of made Lloyd feel better. He might be one of the only people in Ninjago who would experience this, but at least it was something that his uncle had been aware of. It wasn’t some scary curse or anything like that. 

Of course, that brought up a different point though. Master Wu had known. He had known that this was going to happen to him at some point and he had kept it to himself. 

He had kept so much from Lloyd. He hadn’t even been the one to tell him about his supernatural heritage. It had been Mystake who had told him, who had been there for him during all of that, not Master Wu. 

Though, that was a bit unfair. At that point, Master Wu had been lost to time, or he had been deaged. There was no way that he could have been able to tell Lloyd everything when it finally came up. 

But he should have told him before. Or maybe his parents should have. 

Lloyd found his mind wandering back to when he and his father were on the run from The Overlord. Heritage had come up so many times, but his father had never brought up the Oni or Dragon. 

And now it was like he had to figure it out all by himself. He couldn’t go to his father for help, and he knew better than to go to Garmadon… 

“Did you tell the others?” Lloyd asked Kai. He wanted to change the thoughts in his brain. He didn’t want to focus on his father right now, not on top of everything else. 

“We didn’t,” Kai said. “We just told them that you weren’t able to sleep last night and needed rest.” 

Lloyd nodded, then looked down at his hands. One wrong move, one out of control emotion, and the claws would come back… 

“Do you think they’ll act weird?” Lloyd couldn’t hold the question in. 

Kai shrugged. “I mean… Zane’s always been weird, Jay overreacts about everything, and Cole is normally pretty chill,” he said. “I guess it depends on what you mean by weird.” 

Lloyd kept his gaze focused on his hands. He wasn’t sure what he meant by weird. Would they stare at him? Would they make fun of him? Would they decide that he was a freak and finally abandon him? 

His breathing hitched at that last thought. 

Over the years, he had done everything he could to make sure he was perfect, to make sure that they would never have a reason to abandon him. But now… 

He couldn’t pretend to be normal anymore. He couldn’t hide his hybrid features. 

No matter how hard he tried, he could never be perfect. Someone would always have a reason to leave him. 

He couldn’t be alone again… 

Lloyd looked up at Kai and tried to push those thoughts as far out of his mind as possible. “What is everyone up to?” he asked, though he hated the way his voice wobbled. 

“I think they were playing some video games last I checked, why?” Kai said. 

Lloyd took a deep breath and tried to find that brave part of him that always seemed to hide away when he needed it the most. “Do you think I can join them?” 

Kai smiled. “I don’t think they’d mind,” he said, then hesitated for a second. “Do you want me to grab you one of my hoodies? It might be big enough to cover your wings.” 

Lloyd froze for a second. A hoodie would perfectly cover his wings, pulling the hood up could cover his horns, and no one would look that closely at his teeth. 

He could still be normal, just for the night. 

How could he say no?

#ninjago #lloyd garmadon #dragon lloyd #hybrid lloyd #oni lloyd #kai smith #angst #hurt/comfort #ninjago fanfiction #fanfic #my fanfiction

[handspunyarns]

You Were Marked: Days Sixteen to Nineteen, Part I

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C   

word count: 4.4K  

chapter summary: Fennec feels worn out, Din feels hungover, and Marathel doesn’t know how to feel 

warnings:  fluff, angst, mention of blood and injury, rape aftermath, English and Mando’a cursing   

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***     

You Were Marked: Masterlist   

<- You Were Marked: Previous Chapter 

Fennec was very, very tired.  She hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since meeting this Marathel woman, who currently lay tranquilized on the cot before her.  Marathel, who tried so hard to make herself as unobtrusive as possible, had instead sent the palace into an uproar.  The silver-haired woman collected champions everywhere she went.  Silnima was ready to adopt her as well as make her chief baker, if Marathel wished.  Din Djarin was obviously completely in the most stupid variety of love with her, and right behind the Mandalorian, Cobb Vanth was hurriedly catching up in the adoration race.  Boba had admitted to her that even he found her charming, and he was ready to jump into any fray to protect her, like an old mobster uncle would protect his favorite niece.   

It might have been more amusing if Marathel was actually manipulative.  Marathel was not.  She was in fact so simple she was straight.  She had no guile, no artifice whatsoever.  Cobb had mentioned to Fennec that he thought of her as a full-grown child who had dropped from the sky, an apt description if there ever was one.  Everything was black and white in Marathel’s world.  She had a child’s sensibility, a child’s gullibility, almost to the point where Fennec wondered if the woman even had object permanence. 

Fennec had just witnessed another emotional breakdown from Marathel, the reasons for which were still unknown to Fennec.  Marathel had been lying quietly, appearing to be deep in thought, before she suddenly began to weep, and had become hysterical enough to require intervention from the medi-droid.  Obviously — at least to Fennec — it was all somehow the Mandalorian’s fault.  The fact that Din had both cleared the room and turned the lights off led Fennec to believe that he had: one, removed his helmet, and two, most likely kissed her, and three, probably told her he loved her.  Both apparently had trouble with complex emotions, but at least Din should know better than to run in, declare his love like a soldier heading off to war, and run out as if a Hoth blizzard were approaching.  At least give the woman a chance to reply, thought Fennec.  After Din had left — having given her a handful of the Aurodium coins — Fennec had turned the lights back on in the med-bay to see a flushed and bewildered Marathel, sitting up on her elbow, her hand to her mouth, and tears in her eyes as the sounds of Grogu screaming “MAMA!” reverberated through the ship.   

Then the ship began take-off, which shifted Marathel from bewilderment to panic until the ship ceased quaking and began to fly smoothly.  Marathel had then commented that the persistent engine noise was somehow soothing to her, and she began to relax enough to rest.   

It was shortly after this that Marathel’s latest crying jag occurred, and Fennec was nearly out of patience.  After Marathel was tranquilized, Fennec left the med-bay in search of the Modifier, who was in the cockpit with the pilot.  The pilot looked like the average mercenary: faceless, nameless, and uninterested in the cargo. 

“Is the commotion all over?” asked the Modifier. 

“It’s never over with that woman,” mumbled Fennec.   

“Something new offended her delicate sensibilities?” Fennec sighed, and reminded herself that Marathel was doing her level best to cope.  Then the Modifier asked, “Did the Mandalorian provide payment?”  Fennec flicked her eyes to the back of the pilot’s head.  The Modifier nodded.  Some things were never discussed in front of a mercenary, regardless of how inconspicuous they were. 

Din awoke in Marathel’s bed alone, curled up on his side, his mouth feeling as if he’d chewed on a Jawa all night.  His nose was stuffed up, his neck was sore, and although his visor kept out the blinding light of the two suns, his eye sockets were throbbing with the dehydration headache.  He felt around him, looking for Grogu, for Cobb, or even the Jawa he believed he was chewing on.  But he was alone, and the door to Marathel’s room was shut tight.   Din scooted over to the edge of the bed to peer at the side table, which held a large, beautiful pitcher of glorious looking water, several hydration powder packets, and a glass. 

Silently thanking Silnima, Cobb, Frith, whomever had left him this morning-after gift, Din drank the entire pitcher along with all the hydration powder, took a runner-beast-sized piss, and had a quick hot shower to cook out the remainder of the booze from his pores.   

Feeling human again, he straightened up Marathel’s bed, smoothing the sheet over her pillow.  He sat in her padded chair to pull on his boots when he noticed items on her large treatment table that had not been there yesterday: a large, waxed bag that looked as if it contained sweets, three large hanks of yarn, a big ball of near-white fluffy wool, knitting needles, and two jars of dark honey.  Set off to one side of these items was a new pair of shoes.  The shoes were an ankle-high slip-on style in a deep grey leather, flat-heeled, simple, and very appropriate for someone like Marathel.  There was a tiny scuff on the outside of one of the shoes, a few grains of sand on the inside of the other.  Din had a fleeting desire to smell the inside of her shoe.  That’s weird, right?  Yeah, that’s just weird.  I’m still drunk.  Din stood, making sure his bandolier was properly buckled, and his blasters were properly positioned on his hips.  He lifted his helmet and held it above his head to put it on when his eyes fell on Marathel’s shoes again.  He dropped his helmet into one arm, grabbed Marathel’s left shoe and took a deep whiff.   

Well, that was disappointing.  All he could smell was new leather.  With a laugh, Din put down her shoe, wondering if he would have preferred her feet to smell badly or not. He put on his helmet and opened the door.  Cobb was leaning against the opposite wall, drinking from a mug of caf. 

“How are you feeling, friend?” asked Cobb. 

“Better now.  Thank you for the water.” 

“That wasn’t me,” said Cobb with a shrug.   “I just supplied the hydration packets.” 

Din looked up and down the corridor.  “Where’s Grogu?” 

“With the other palace kids.” 

“How did he seem?” 

Cobb shrugged again.  “Subdued.”  He smiled wryly.  “He ended up between us, and we had positioned ourselves like a little fort around him.  Our arms made the roof.”  He raised his eyes to Din’s visor.  “It was quite nice. It felt good.  Made me a … little jealous of Marathel.”  Cobb went silent for a few moments, and then he took a drink from his caf.  “Look, I gotta head back to Freetown.  I trust the new deputy only so far, and I really have no reason to hang around if I can’t get my arm worked on.” 

Din remained silent.  Both men stood still for a while before Din reached out to take Cobb’s arm.  Pulling himself close to Cobb, Din whispered, “You’d leave me?” 

Cobb’s eyes went wide, but after a moment’s thought, he squinted his eyes and said, “You’re pullin’ my chain.” 

“Mostly,” said Din.  “I need to go find buyers for the Aurodium, and I need a distraction for Grogu.”  Din’s hand went to Cobb’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze.  “Come with us.” 

“Uh … no.  I’m not stepping off this planet.  Jumping around the vacuum of space in a tiny metal box is my personal vision of hell.  Not even you can change my mind.”  Cobb lifted Din’s hand from his shoulder and held it.  “But give me updates on Marathel.  And … consider her staying here for a while when she’s better.”  Closer to me.  “The palace is a controlled environment for her.  Out there … I think it’s hard for her to feel safe.” Cobb dropped Din’s hand.  “She was scared of a Trandoshan she saw in Mos Espa.” 

“She should at least be cautious.  They’re assholes.”  Din nodded.  “You’re right, though.  Here at the palace Marathel would have only a limited number of people to contend with.  She’d be safe, even if I’m not here.  And Silnima can help her have a purpose.  Marathel is not one to be idle.” 

Cobb grinned. “And she now knows where to buy yarn.” 

Under the helmet Din was smiling too.  “Thanks to you.”  He leaned forward and hugged Cobb, hard.   

Cobb squeezed back, and in Din’s ear, he whispered, “Love her.”  Din drew back.  “What?” 

Din shook his head.  “That’s what … the Dahl told me.  Rodanthe.  I figured … I imagined it.  That she’d growled and my brain turned it into words.  But she hadn’t made a sound.” 

Cobb tilted his head.  “That was something you mentioned last night.” 

“I did?”  Din reached under his cuirass and scratched the bite mark; it was suddenly itchy. “I guess it wasn’t a dream after all.” 

“You don’t think it’s strange?”  asked Cobb.  “That this —Rodanthe critter ‘talks’ to you and then the next day Marathel can seemingly control you?” 

Din scoffed.  “The whole damn thing is strange.  A woman can bond with an animal on a biological – chemical – neurological manner to the point where she allegedly loses physical control and goes into a heat cycle?  And drags me into it as well?”  Din looked up and down the hall.  Seeing no one, Din leaned in towards Cobb.  “She could barely look at me at first, and the next thing I know, she’s wrapping her legs around me and climbing me like a damn tree.” 

“And I’m sure you fought that little wildcat as long as you could,” Cobb said with a smirk, but then he sobered.  “You can’t think she’s been manipulating you.” 

“I know she’s not telling me everything.”  Din scratched the bite wound again.  “I know she’s lied to me.  I probably … shouldn’t have told her I love her yesterday.” 

Cobb rolled his eyes.  “Someone’s got morning-after guilt,” he said with a sigh.  “Look.  You need to fence those coins.  She needs to get better.  Then you two must seriously talk.  And I recommend not starting with, ‘Marry me’. Or whatever it is you Mandalorians do.” 

“Oh? What should I start with?” 

“I suggest you tell her about the land mine to your sack.  That should give you two a lot to talk about.” Cobb shifted sideways. “We should both get going, you know.”  The two men clasped each other’s hands, and Cobb began to walk towards the landing tunnel, whistling.  After about 5 meters or so, Cobb turned and said, “Man, you didn’t even tell me about the land mine.  That’s classic.”  Din shot him the finger, and Cobb walked off, laughing. 

After Cobb had left, Din heard the pounding of feet and happy shrieks of children coming from the opposite direction.  He turned, and a whole passel of kids were running full tilt straight for him; one of the taller girls was carrying Grogu on her shoulders.  Upon seeing Din, Grogu squealed and leapt from the girl’s shoulders to Din’s arms, doing a forward flip in mid-air.  The other children cheered; the noise went right through Din’s helmet and exploded somewhere behind his hung-over eyeballs.  One of the boys yelled, “Let’s get something to eat!”, leading the other kids to run to the kitchen.   

Grogu bounced on Din’s arm, chanting, “Mama? Mama?  Mama?” while slapping Din’s cuirass with his little hand.   

Din took hold of Grogu’s hand, shaking his head.  “We haven’t heard anything yet, little guy.” 

Grogu scowled and jerked his hand away.  “MAMA!”  

“I want to know how she is just as much as you do, buddy, but … Mama needs to go far away for a little while.  She needs special doctors who can help her.  Special … secret doctors.” 

Grogu grunted, his face in a deep frown.  “See-kit.” 

“See-kit, that’s right,” said Din, a flush of pride going through him at Grogu saying another word.  That’s my boy.  Din held Grogu close, pressing his helmet to the little green fuzzy head.  “What say we go fly while we wait?” 

“Fy!” 

“Wizard.  Let’s go.” 

Fennec got a message from the medi-droid that Marathel was waking up.  She got into the room just in time to see Marathel roll to her side, rubbing her eyes.  Fennec sat back down on the stool next to the cot.  “Doing better?”  Marathel still looked distressed, but she nodded.  “Can you tell me what upset you so much?” 

Marathel swallowed and closed her eyes.  “He lied to me.  The Bounty Hunter.” 

We’re back to calling him Bounty Hunter.  Dank ferrik.  “What did he lie to you about?” 

“The Bounty Hunter still had the coins.  He was … he was supposed to give them to his covert, but he still had them!” 

Fennec sighed inwardly.  “He gave me some of the coins to pay for your treatment, wherever it is we’re going.” 

“But he’s not supposed to still have them!  Why would he lie to me about what he was going to do? “ 

Maker, save me.  “Marathel … please consider that there is a perfectly logical explanation.” 

Marathel sniffled.  “Like what?” 

“Perhaps the covert wouldn’t accept them.  Those coins are … very old, and they don’t exactly work as money anymore.  Perhaps Din needs to find a buyer for the coins so he can exchange them for usable money.” 

“Then why give them to you?” 

“Well, it’s not as if we had a lot of time to figure things out.  We needed cash in hand for whomever these Reconstructionists are.  Now, please, Marathel, please try to stay calm. Try to not worry about every damn thing so much!” 

Marathel colored and looked away.  “I’m sorry,” she said, barely above a whisper.   

“Don’t be sorry.  Be calm. Be quiet, and we will all get through this,” hissed Fennec, near the end of her own rope.  

Marathel took a shaky breath.  “Yes, Fennec,” she said in such a conciliatory tone Fennec felt bad for snapping at her.  Fennec dropped her face into her hands for a while, upset herself.  Now she had these damned coins to deal with.  Either this Bishop was completely daft, or the men on that planet had no clue what those coins were worth.  When Boba had first shown them to her, Fennec insisted they first count them, just so she could feel the gold in her hands, and then they spread out the coins on the bed and … well, rolled around on them a while.  They had quite a time locating all the coins after that. 

Fennec still had no idea where they were going — the Modifier was being very tight-lipped about that — but she needed something to go on in case she needed to find buyers for the coins herself, and she was already nervous about this whole escapade going sideways. 

Fennec looked up at Marathel, who had been quiet for some time now.  Marathel’s face was as blank as fresh quarried slate.  Her eyes were unfocused, and her breathing was slow, her head slightly tilted to one side, her lips slightly parted. The slack look on her face put Fennec in the mind of someone who was mentally challenged, or in a fugue state.  Fennec shook Marathel’s arm.  “Marathel? Are you all right?” 

 Marathel’s pupils constricted, and she blinked.  “I’m fine, I’m fine, I was just … being still.” 

“That’s what you mean by be still?  You just… check out and go into a near-trance?” 

“Yes, it … it quiets the mind when they… make you do things to them.” 

“Make you do things to whom, Marathel?” 

Marathel took a shaky breath.  “The Elders … the Bishop, of course.” 

Fennec felt uneasy.  “Even before you left the Hold?” 

“Ever since I can remember,” said Marathel, matter-of-factly.  Fennec nodded.  She thought so, but it was still painful for her to have it confirmed.  No wonder Marathel was so wounded.  The poor woman’s never had a damn chance.  Fennec was wracked with guilt for her unkind thoughts about the silver-haired woman.  “Fennec?  Don’t pity me.” 

Fennec nodded again, and angrily swiped her knuckles under her eyes. “I should check your wounds.” 

“Fennec ...” said Marathel, reaching for her hand.  “My wounds are not getting worse, nor will they get better with anything you can do.  Just … sit with me, please.”  Fennec held Marathel’s hand, and in her eyes, Fennec could only see a kind of … sad tranquility that spoke of defeat. “Tell me again what I’m to say if they question me.” 

“You’re to say that you managed to escape from a Red Room; that you don’t know where you are, or how you got there.” 

“Yes, a Red Room.  I couldn’t remember.  I was thinking Dark Room.  What is a Red Room?” 

“I don’t think you need to know that, Marathel.” 

“I think I should know … I should know about what lies I need to tell.” 

Fennec sighed.  “A Red Room is where … people pay to watch and/or participate in the torture and killing of … another person.” 

Marathel furrowed her brow.  “Why in the name of Frith do things like that exist?” 

“It’s a sick, sad, galaxy.  I’d like to say it’s gotten better recently, but … not really.” 

“Is a Red Room always red?  Or is it named … because of the blood spilled there?”  Marathel sighed.  “I suppose that doesn’t matter.”  She closed her eyes for a moment.  “I miss my little hut.  Life was so simple there.  Make bread, set traps for food.  Weave if I wanted, pick flowers if I wanted, do flat-out nothing if I wanted.  Even when … Din and Grogu showed up, it was still such a lovely uncomplicated life.  Made them meals, sewed their clothes.  Made them bread.  I made more bread for those two in that short time than I would ever make for myself in three moon cycles, those greedy guts.”  Both women chuckled.  “And I got to pretend I had my own family.  We had fun, the three of us.  I even got to hear Din laugh.” 

Fennec pulled a face.  “I don’t believe that man knows how to laugh.” 

“He did!  He laughed at me; that’s why I had to throw eggs at him.”  Marathel launched into the story of the morning she wore her yellow dress and ended up in a tree because she had the temerity to scold a Jedi toddler.  By the time Marathel was demonstrating where Din’s hands had ended up on her breasts as she dropped down from the lowest branch, Fennec was near howling with laughter.  “So, I chucked an egg right at his helmet.  Splat!” 

“Oh, kriffing hell!  Then what?” 

“He said that I should be a … oh, what did he say … a storm …?” 

“A Stormtrooper?” 

“Yes!  What is that?” 

“A soldier of the most useless variety.” 

Marathel frowned.  “Should I have been insulted by that?” 

“Absolutely you should have.” 

Marathel giggled.  “Good thing I hit him with another egg and told him to piss up a rope.”  Fennec laughed.   “I stomped all the way back to my hut; I was that angry.  Later, Grogu brought me flowers, and Din brought me my favorite fruit to apologize.  No man had ever given me a gift before.”  Marathel smiled.  “The next day, Din made me breakfast.  The man made a meal for me.  Never had I considered a man would do such a thing.  We weren’t allowed to eat what we made for the men, not even the scraps from their plates.  But Din cooked for me.” 

Fennec smiled as well.  And we’re back to calling him Din.  “Men can be different when they’re from other places.” 

Marathel was silent for a while.  “I didn’t even know that there were other places until Din told me.  I didn’t believe him.  How was I supposed to understand that a tiny point of light in the sky was another big place like the one I lived on?” 

“Well, not all those points of light are planets.  There are also stars.” 

“He said that too, but I don’t know what a star is.  I don’t understand half of everything he said to me.  He probably thought I was quite dumb, which is true … I don’t know much.”  Marathel sighed.  “When he asked me to come with him, it terrified me, because I knew I would only be a burden to him.” 

“Din asked you to leave your planet with him?” 

“Yes … we had been digging clams, even though clams make him sick, but he didn’t tell me that.  I was dancing in the water with Grogu, and Din put his arm around me, held me close …  and said I should go with him and leave the Aurodium behind.” 

My, my. “But you said no.” 

“What else in Frith was I supposed to say?  I was already ruined, I’m … nothing.  I’m plain, fat, and stupid.  Sullied.  Filth.”  Marathel sobbed, tears running down her face.  She rolled over to her side and curled up in despair.  “And I knew I was going to finally die — just sooner than later — but I also knew if I could help him in some way, then … my life could have meant something to someone.  Even just for a few days, to a frightening man made of metal and his little green boy.  I love Grogu so much, Fennec.  And he’s calling me Mama.  He shouldn’t be doing that.  Not someone like me.” Marathel was weeping again, to her dismay.  She was so tired of weeping but could not stop any more than she could stop her slow loss of blood.  Fennec held Marathel’s hand and said nothing.  She had heard things like Marathel spoke of before, and no number of words to the contrary would change Marathel’s mind in her current state.  Not all fears or hurts or ugly thinking could be slayed with logic.  

After some time, when Marathel’s current storm seemed to have passed, Fennec asked, “So, what did Din say to you when he came in here?” 

Marathel sniffled and scrubbed her nose with her hand.  “Well, he turned off the lights, and then I felt something heavy drop on my lap.  It wasn’t until he was kissing me that I realized it was his helmet.” 

Fennec gave a small smile.  “So, he did kiss you.” 

Marathel’s cheeks flushed.  “Did you know how heavy those helmets are?  I thought he tossed a rock on me.” 

Fennec rolled her eyes with a chuckle.  “So, he did kiss you.” 

Marathel shyly dropped her gaze.  “Yes.” 

“And what did he say?” 

“He said …” Marathel took a breath.  “He said, ‘I love you, Marathel, ma’mwsh ha’laa, nothing else matters.’” 

“And what does ma’mwsh ha’laa mean again?” 

“‘Wounded acorn.’” 

Fennec chuckled again.  “That’s so adorable it’s almost sickening.  What was the kiss like?” 

Marathel frowned.  “Hard.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Hard.  He pressed his mouth very hard to mine.”  Marathel put her fingers to her own lips; they were almost tingling with the memory.  “But I could tell he had a mustache.  And I touched his cheek; he had facial hair, and his skin was soft.  He had told me his eyes were brown, and I saw his brown hair once, briefly … he was throwing up the clams in the tall grass, and I could just see the top of his head.” 

Fennec wasn’t about to tell her she had gotten a glimpse of him without his helmet; it probably would upset her, and Din wasn’t looking his particular best at the time, what with the concussion and the blood everywhere. “Din doesn’t sound like he’s very good at kissing.” 

“I wouldn’t know.  Kissing is only for Diwhyns and babies where I’m from.”  Marathel glanced sideways at Fennec.  “I suppose Boba is a good kisser?” 

Fennec’s head snapped up.  “Excuse me?” 

Marathel squeezed Fennec’s hand.  “Boba Fett is good to you, isn’t he?” 

It was Fennec’s turn to blush.  “I didn’t think we were that obvious.” 

“Well, I noticed.  And if I noticed, I’m sure Cobb did too.”  Fennec groaned.  “And Silnima knows too, but I don’t think anything gets past that woman.” 

“And that’s why she’s such a good Headwoman.   She would love it if you’d stay at the palace once you’re well.  She has designs on you being her chief baker.”  

Marathel curled her lip.  “I don’t know if I want to be a kitchen drudge for the rest of my life.” 

“No one’s talking about forever, just for right now, for kriff’s sake.” Fennec sighed.  “So how do you feel about Din?  Do you share his feelings?” 

Marathel thought for a while before answering.  “I told him that I loved him before I went into the Hold; at least, as much as I knew how to love anyone.  I know that I’m grateful for him, grateful that he took me away from there.  But … it’s … it’s his Creed I’m having trouble with.” 

Fennec frowned.  “What do you mean?” 

“The day before he took me to the Hold, I asked him if he would take off his helmet, that he could have me if he wished,” — Fennec frowned at this — “but … without the helmet, so that I would have his face as a last memory.  He said no, of course.  He told me that his affection for me was less than his devotion to his Creed.  And I suppose I understood that, but then … he asked if I would sleep next to him, so he could hold me, caress me while he slept.  Fondle me.  As if I were only a toy.  Not a person.  Certainly not an equal.”  Marathel sighed.  “Perhaps he does love me, but … I’m afraid I will always be in the shadow of his Creed.  That shadow may be too cold for me to bear.” 

“Well, Marathel, that’s certainly a valid thing for you to feel.”  Fennec patted her arm.  “It seems like you two have much to discuss.” 

“I wouldn’t know how to even begin.” 

“The truth is usually the best place to start.  But … for now I suggest you concentrate on what’s coming up with these Reconstructionists.  Okay?”  Marathel nodded, then sat up enough to hug Fennec hard.  Fennec hugged her back.  “It’s going to be okay, Marathel.” 

“I hope so.”  And she did. 

You Were Marked: Next Chapter->

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[lorichu]

Just Like the Ones I Used to Know

This is my part of a holiday gift exchange @gtypewriter and I did where we chose one of each other's stories and then selected a Christmas song to use as inspiration. I was "given" my characters from The Night Shift, and chose the song White Christmas. The art was a little extra on my part.

Thanks for reading, and happy holidays!

The distant melody of another Christmas song echoed from upstairs, as did his mom and uncle's actually pretty good singing, but John didn't move. It was all just noise to him at this point. A quiet, half-formed thought tried to encourage him to get up and go help them decorate the tree, but his entire body had been carved from a block of cold, numb stone. He slid lower in the booth's faded bench seat. Sitting before him was the equally inert empty cup of coffee he'd originally come down into the shop for, which had been drained and left to cool for some time.

John's blank expression stared at the door. Night had fallen hours ago, bringing with it the soft, hazy glow of a snowstorm. The heavy white powder blanketed the rest of the world, rounding out harsher edges and burying everything in indistinct obscurity. If you didn't already know what to expect under a particular snowbank, you'd have no way of finding out without more than a little digging. Over the past hour or so both the flurries and the wind had picked up. Together they created an intricate dance, swirling and spiraling in the shop's exterior floodlight like they were on stage. Each gust was a delicate maneuver, the entire storm a complex song.

And John was just as numb to that as well.

What did catch his attention was the crunch of snow under tires and the scraping of shovels against the pavement. Outwardly he didn't react to those either, but each one was another little jab at his heart. One more needle slipping under his skin to draw out another pinprick of blood. His body was covered in scars that matched the dried salty trails of slush across the doormat. They were rough and jagged, bright against the dark surface, and were pointless to clean away this time of year. All the scrubbing in the world wouldn't stop them from forming all over again the second someone else walked through the door.

Heavy eyelids slid lower as John continued to not put up a fight to stay present. The chilling cold of the darkened coffee shop had drained away all but the very last of his resolve, leaving him hollow and stained like the inside of his empty mug. Uncomfortable as it obviously was, he wanted to feel the pain. More accurately, he was desperate to feel anything. Each and every day had been a little bit worse than the last, but it was his Uncle Alec's return that finally broke the camel's back. Then and only then had he truly noticed how much of him had gone numb. When he couldn't think of a fix, John decided to lean into it. To really embrace the sensation fully, with both body and soul.

Was that the right choice? Probably not. But, then again, John didn't care. Right here in this moment, however long it had been, was the first time he remembered feeling something that wasn't completely soul crushingly empty.

He slouched lower in the booth so that his shoulder blades touched the seat. The stark emptiness of his mind roared loudly in his ears, and his eyes fluttered that much closer to closing. After spending such a long time dancing around the issue, John was tired. Maybe sleeping down here wasn't that bad of an idea. Sure, his body wouldn't be too happy about it, but it might give him something to help take the pain away.

All the flurries blustering about outside had been a simple distraction to dissociate to, but out of nowhere there was motion in the darkness itself. A sharp silhouette crawled up over the opposite side of the table, moving with more purpose than John had experienced in hours. The shape didn't get too close, but it did speak.

"John?" Lyra's voice was soft and yet somehow managed to cut through the static.

Had he been any more in control of himself John wouldn't have flinched so hard. It was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over his head, snapping him out of the sleepless dreaming that had almost taken him. Scrambling to support himself, John managed to sit upright with a forceful push against the seat, but he still needed a minute to blink the daze out of his eyes.

That acknowledgement was enough of an invitation for Lyra, and she started to slowly inch closer. "Are you alright? You've been down here for a while, and we were... I was getting worried."

Even though his throat felt like it was filled with cobwebs, John's voice managed to find its way out. "I-I," he croaked, "I'm fine."

The shadows falling across Lyra's face couldn't cover up her frown. "Is that so?"

Her anger became a chisel that broke through the icy walls he'd built to barricade himself in. Dropping his hands into his lap, John hung his head. "No..." he sighed. His eyes slid shut, but that was only to stem the incoming flow of tears. "I just, I miss him."

Lyra didn't say a word. She closed the remaining distance between them by walking right up to the edge of the table. For a moment she considered sitting down, but instead chose to stand so she could be as close to John as possible.

A ragged breath filled and left his lungs. "There was so much else going on last year that I didn't really have time to think about it." His eyes opened slowly, seeking her out like a warm fire in the midst of a howling storm. "B-But, but now, all I can see are the empty spaces. All the places he should be, but isn't. And won't ever be, ever again."

Before John realized he'd moved it, his hand was on the table, loosely draped behind Lyra. She didn't appear to be bothered, and even leaned into the touch, making his fingers curl in closer. As a fingertip brushed over her hip, Lyra locked eyes with him. Her expression told him all he needed to know, but it wasn't until she nodded encouragingly that John dared to take things farther. He scooped her up with all the care in the world even though his hands were still trembling. Instead of just lifting her higher John held her to his chest and sunk into the seat again. Lyra relaxed against him, fully content and at ease despite being essentially trapped.

Like the warmth of smoldering embers, Lyra's love melted through another layer of John's walls. "I know Uncle Alec always comes for Christmas," he murmured, "and I'm glad he's here for Mom, but he," John's entire body shuddered, "he just makes the emptiness bigger, because my heart knows it's supposed to be the three of them up there. Laughing, singing, decorating... This is as close to complete as their group can ever be again. Nothing they, or anyone else can do will ever be able to change that."

Burying her face into his shirt, Lyra took a deep breath. "Filling in the blank spaces doesn't make them go away," she agreed. "No matter how much the substitution might check all the right boxes, it just isn't the same."

It was rare for Lyra to ever speak of her many losses, regardless of who was gone or how long it had been. As they'd grown closer together, John had come to accept that some parts of her would always be inaccessible to him. However, that slight peek behind the curtain brought a gentle touch of ease to his grief ravaged heart. These were not hollow condolences given out of obligation. Lyra was empathizing with her entire being by reaching into the darkest places that could only hurt her. She had not come down into the coffee shop to force him back upstairs, but to connect with him in a way only she knew how.

His thumb bent in to lightly rest on the top of her head. "I keep waiting for his car to pull up," John mumbled on. "Like all this time he's just been out helping someone. That happened a lot, especially this time of year." He filled his lungs and exhaled a powerful sigh. "My heart can't stop believing that eventually he's gonna open that door with a laugh and burst of snow, then tease me about w-why I'm down, down here, and n-not ups-stairs..."

Sobs filled his throat, choking out his voice. John curled inward, draping his other hand over Lyra as well and mindfully clutching her to his chest. That messy blur was back and stronger than ever, but now he had the most powerful shield in the world. Lyra was the only thing keeping him sane, his literal last line of defense against the bellowing grief boiling within him. The animalistic desire to wail his overwhelming feelings would do nothing but scream his throat raw. Any release he could get from that would just cause him more pain beyond this instance. By simply being here, in this moment with him, Lyra was protecting him from himself.

Painful as it was to keep speaking, the entire process was oddly cathartic. "A-And, then," John rasped, "then we'd go up there t-together. To Mom and Uncle Alec." As more words came out his throat felt looser. "There'd be a pot of peppermint hot cocoa on the stove, and the same old CD of Christmas music would be playing. First we'd decorate the tree, then the rest of the house, until f-finally we'd come down here to do the shop. When we finished it'd be at least midnight, but everything would look amazing."

The pressure on her hadn't been unbearable, but Lyra wasn't able to actually calm down until it lessened. "That sounds like a lot of fun. What a wonderful tradition." More of John relaxed around her, and she rolled over onto her stomach in an attempt to look him in the eye. "I can confirm that there is hot cocoa brewing, and Pam dug a really banged up CD out of the closet."

After feeling Lyra move, John repositioned so he could see her. Now that he was out of his mind and back in the present, he smelled the faint waftings of peppermint and heard the familiar crooning of a song he'd listened to every year as far back as he could remember. John watched as Lyra settled more comfortably beneath his hand, sharing what little warmth she had with him. The sight of her so perfectly at ease cast a bright but pleasant light on the corners of his mind, chasing the shadows away.

"What do you think about going up there and joining them?" John asked, his stabler voice already sounding more like his normal self.

Lyra's slight frown just barely furrowed her brow. "Are you sure? I don't mind waiting if you need more time."

Shaking his head, John freed his left hand and braced it against the booth seat to sit up. "Don't worry, I'll be alright. Hiding out down here isn't gonna do me any good. Right now, what I really need is-"

The dull crunching of a car plowing through snow turned into the parking lot. They both froze, now suddenly back in John's sorrowful musings, and they held their breath as the extra diffused illumination from headlights shut off. A door opened, then slammed shut with a snow-muted thud. Softer, dampened footsteps marched towards the shop, bringing with them a familiar face just barely visible through the window.

Gently letting Lyra off on the table, John shuffled over to open the door. "Bret?" he muttered as the bundled, snow-dusted figure scrambled inside. "Did I miss a text or something?"

Bret shook his head, sending a small squall into the air as the door was shut behind him. "Nah, your mom invited me." He started unbuttoning his jacket and took off his hat. "If you didn't know I was coming, why were you down here?"

Walking back over to Lyra, John shrugged and rubbed the tip of his nose with the back of his hand. "Just needed a little break from the festivities, you know?"

A believable enough lie, but even in the dimmed lighting Bret could see the puffy rings around John's eyes. Despite that truth staring him in the face, he'd happily take the offered bait instead. "You always did say that decorating night could get outta hand," Bret joked. "And actually, this is kinda perfect." His gaze wandered to Lyra, who stiffened up ever so slightly.

"Why's that?" John asked in her place, shifting a little closer to her out of habit.

Not realizing just how much his crypticness was hurting the situation, Bret reached into his jacket's inner pocket. "Because I have something to give Lyra."

It didn't matter that so much time had passed, hearing him say her name like that still gave Lyra chills. She almost started inching closer to John, then immediately thought better of it. 'Don't show him anything's wrong,' she reminded herself. 'Everything can be turned into a weakness. Don't give him any more to take advantage of.'

An entire lifetime of better memories wouldn't be enough to outweigh or erase everything that happened to her at the museum. Lyra knew this, and so did Bret. However, as the one who hadn't been on the receiving end of years of torture, Bret wasn't always as quick to pick up whenever he inadvertently crossed that line. She knew he was trying his best, and the effort was appreciated, but the iron-clad instincts that had kept her alive wouldn't allow even the smallest slight to pass so easily.

When Bret's hand reemerged, it was closed around something small. He looked at Lyra then John before stepping up to the table and extending his arm just as slowly. Fingers pulled away quickly to reveal the little object, and while John was left squinting to figure out what it was, Lyra gasped. "W-Wait... Is that?"

"Your bag," Bret answered. "The one you had when I found you."

Lyra clamped a hand over her mouth and wrapped her other arm across her body. "How? How do you still have this when he asked you to destroy it?"

Bret needed to stabilize his balance by bracing a hand on the table. "Because I forgot." A groveling apology was building up inside of him, but instead of caving to that, he just went on with the story. "Amos wouldn't let me throw it out in his office because that would be too suspicious, so I just put it in my pocket. There was so much else going on that I completely forgot about it until I got home. I needed to stay on Amos's good side to keep my job, so I wanted to wait for the best time to throw it away. Until I found that, I decided to just stash it in my desk drawer... where I forgot about it again."

"I can't believe you kept it," Lyra mumbled, taking a shuffled step forward. This felt so much like a trap, but she just couldn't help herself. "After all this time."

Because she was getting closer, Bret wanted to pull his hand back and move away from the table. Thanks to his momentary indecision though, it looked like he'd missed his chance. 'She's already too close,' he grumbled. 'If I move now, it'll just freak her out. Probably enough that she won't accept it.'

So he stayed rooted in place and watched as the tiny Mintran woman knelt down to reunite with her timeworn pack. Lyra delicately unhooked the latch and drew in a sharp breath when she saw the stash of her old possessions. "It's all here," she murmured. "Everything..." Distant memories of the life that was stolen from her condensed into tears that stung her eyes. A choked down sob rocked her shoulders and her fingers dug into the thick fabric as she hunched lower.

Seconds later her head snapped up. Just as quickly she tossed the bag aside and jumped to her feet. The heavy stares following her weren't enough to stop her from breaking out into a full-on sprint, and she never wavered as she raced over to Bret's hand. She wrapped her arms as far as she could around his wrist and fully leaned into the hug.

"Th-Thank you, Bret," she whimpered, smearing tears over his skin. "You don't know what this means to me."

Now utterly terrified to move, Bret tried to hold his ground. "You're, um, you're welcome." The way she was clinging to him made his mind dredge up images of her begging for her life, which was a habit he'd broken her of long ago. He could hear echoes of mournful cries ripping through her raw throat. Each one dug into him as well to leave a festering scar that would never fully heal. Over time the wound had gotten easier to ignore, but that didn't mean it had stopped hurting.

Her joy couldn't hold her fear back forever though, so Lyra broke the embrace first. She shuffled backwards to the bag, refusing to take her eyes off Bret after voluntarily getting so dangerously close. He remained just as statuesque and didn't appear to take a full breath until she'd reached down to grab the bag.

Lyra offered a timid smile. "Seriously, Bret, thank you."

"Course," he muttered through a similar grin. "Merry Christmas."

The ache that had brought John down into the shop felt like a fading memory of an old nightmare. He hadn't fully recovered, but there was a new layer of warmth wrapped around his heart like a thick blanket. That warmth was holding him together, bundling up the pieces of him into a single place where they could be protected and cared for. Love was all around him, holding the door open to let him in out of the cold dark of loneliness. It was definitely something to do this time of year, but John knew without a doubt that everyone in this house would do the same things all over again even if it was the middle of summer.

John wrapped his hand behind Lyra's back again and gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze as he looked Bret in the eye. "We were just going upstairs to join them, and since you already talked to Mom, I know she'll be expecting you too." Lyra leaned back against him, and he knew that was his cue to pick her up. He didn't need to look down to scoop her off her feet, but he still sent a quick smile and wink her way. "They've probably already done a good chunk of it by now, but I'm sure there's more left to decorate."

Perking up more into his normal self, Bret nodded. "I'm here as long as you need me."

Nothing else had to be said as they hurried through the darkened coffee shop. When they opened the door at the bottom of the stairs the music changed. Without missing a beat, Pam and Alec were already singing.

"I'm, dreaming, of a White, Christmas..."

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #my writing #giant tiny #gt #the night shift #christmas

[jacquesthepigeon]

always gonna ignore truth bc imo Anarka is pretty sure that it's Jagged who's Luka's dad but their relationship was open and she's not sure and honestly Jagged would make an ok uncle/family friend but is not responsible enough to be a father

In my mind she and Jagged never actually hooked up, he just assumes they did after a major hangover and Anarka is so offended from the notion that he: 1) thinks she’d ever sleep with him and 2) assumes he fathered her pregnancy AND doesn’t want to take responsibility that she just never corrected him. Had he just said he’d be there for her and the kid she woulda corrected him and he would’ve achieved uncle status.

#anon #ask