#something something reverse psychology or whatever its called

[bamsara]

Hey, do you will ever continue Solar Lunacy?

I have answered this already, yep. I've added the tag 'slow updates' to the fic tags if it helps.

#please do not send anymore asks about the next update! tbh the next chapter is only like 1k away from being good to publish #and i do plan on finishing it but its starting to feel a bit rushed and that makes my brain go 'well i dont wanna work on it rn' #something something reverse psychology or whatever its called

[aspirationalpeony]

Quit Playin' Games (With My Heart)

Summary: While you're trying to puzzle out the mysterious Ms. Schemmenti, Janine invites you to a dinner party--at Melissa's house. Board games, bonding, and lasagna... What could go wrong? (See author's note at the end for prompt credit.) Content Warnings: A brief paragraph discussing homophobia. AO3 Link

Does Melissa Schemmenti like you?

You've got everyone else figured out. Janine would befriend an electrical pole if it had a smiley face stapled to it; Jacob befriends anyone Janine befriends. Gregory stays a little aloof, but he's been warming up the more you show him your LEGO sets. Barbara--well, she sees you as another one of the kids, you think, but you know she appreciates your self-sufficiency, tolerates you with a smile when you're in the conversation. And Ava is... Ava.

Melissa? Who knows? She called you by the wrong name the first month you were at Abbott, knowingly, watching your face with a wry twist to her mouth, waiting for you to take the bait. When you didn't, you earned your name back. She started making dry comments to you, like "You got enough glitter glue there, Martha Stewart?" as you passed her in the hall, arms full of art supplies. She saw you struggling with the copy machine one day and said, "Here," giving it a swift kick that brought it wheezing to life, but followed up with, "Thought your generation was good with tech. What do we keep you around for, huh?"

After those backhands you'd be in a spin, wondering and confused; then later that day or the day after she'd say something else, like, "Hey, not bad, shortstop," when you got something off a high shelf for her (why shortstop when you’re taller than her? Reverse psychology?), or "Good job on lunch duty. They didn't kill ya," and you'd go warm all over and your confusion would deepen and all you would think was: does she like me or not?

You’re just not sure. So you try not to listen the day they’re all in the break room, talking about a party at Melissa’s house. You can’t help but overhear snatches—Janine insisting she’ll bring lasagna, Jacob saying he’ll do dessert, Melissa saying “oh, brother” and Barbara assuring her gently, a smile in her voice, “And I’ll bring the wine”—but you keep your head down over your lunch and turn the page of your lesson plan and ignore them until Janine realizes, suddenly, that the room isn’t empty, that you’re at the table just next to them, and burbles, “Hey, you should come, too!”

Your eyes go to Melissa right away. She glances up over her cat-eye glasses and her look is inscrutable.

“Oh,” you say, “um, I don’t know. I have, like, a thing—“

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” Janine says. “We’ll eat some amazing food—“ she flicks a curl over her shoulder, playing at an Ava-like preen—“we’ll play board games, we’ll bond…”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding!” Janine looks imploringly at her friends. “Right?”

“Yeah,” Melissa says at last, still looking at you. Your heart thumps. “You should come.”

And that’s how you end up here: Melissa’s house. You crossed the welcome mat reading GO AWAY, a cheesecake in your hands, and tried not to make it obvious how badly you wanted to stare around yourself, scrutinize every photo and every piece of furniture, trying to get a window onto this woman you can’t figure out. Everyone’s piled onto the couch or onto chairs, plastic creaking under them as they lean forward to the table to swipe a snack or their glass of wine, and there’s an open box, a few stacks of cards.

“I found this amazing get-to-know-you game,” Janine declares, sliding down to sit on Mel’s carpeted floor. “So, you spin the spinner, right, and whatever it lands on, you take a card with the same color, and then you ask the question that’s on it, and everybody answers, and—“

“How do you win?” Melissa says. She’s holding a glass of wine, its rim printed with her pink lipstick. She’s got her hair in a ponytail that leaves lots of little curls hanging everywhere. She’s wearing a tank top. These details feel incredibly important; you try not to think about them.

“Oh, uh…” Janine frowns at the instruction booklet. “I don’t think you win.”

“What’s the point of a game if nobody wins?” Melissa leans over to the coffee table, grabs a grape off a serving plate, pops it into her mouth. She glances over at Barbara, who’s perched very straight-backed in a plastic-covered armchair, nursing a little bit of wine.

“I, for one,” Jacob says, “think competition is over-valued in our society. American individualism—"

“Just spin it, Janine,” Barbara says.

Beaming at the approval of her mentor, Janine spins. She plucks a blue card: “What’s your favorite sexual—“ her eyes widen. “Uh.”

“Oh, this just got interestin’,” Melissa says, and sits up straighter.

“Let me take another one.” Janine puts that card aside. “Have you ever had a threes—okay, no. Are they all like this?”

Gregory, a silent presence sitting stiffly alongside Janine, turns over a card from the green and red piles. He reads one: “How do you like your partner to style their pubic hair?” Then, the red: “Confess to a sexual fantasy you’ve had about… A member of the group.” The questions sound even more bizarre in his level voice, although his lifted eyebrows and widened eyes telegraph his discomfort. His gaze darts to Janine, then away.

“Janine, what’s the name of this game, please,” Barbara says, looking as though she’s one syllable from combustion.

Janine lifts the lid of the box. “Adult Dinner Party. But I thought, you know, adult dinner party, a classy kind of—oh.”

Jacob picks up a blue card gingerly and turns it over. “Have you ever had sex in a public place?”

“I have,” you say. Every face in the room turns toward you. Your cheeks heat. Your eyes flicker between each incredulous look. “What? We’re supposed to answer them, aren’t we?”

“This just got interestin’,” Melissa repeats. There’s a strange look on her face, not quite amusement; you wonder if it’s respect. “Me, too.”

“Melissa!” Barbara gasps.

“What? You never got fingered in a dark ride at an amusement park?”

Barbara stands up with her wine and walks out of the room, muttering to herself. Glances pass between the rest of you. The corner of Melissa’s mouth curves up. “Spin again,” she says.

The next few questions are mercifully tamer: do you think French kissing is overrated, what’s one thing you’ll never do for a partner? More wine is poured, Melissa going around and topping off each glass, saying to Gregory and Janine, “Lighten up a little, will you?” Eventually she comes to sit on the floor with everyone else, four people around the coffee table. She’s picked a spot right at your side, your knees bumping, thighs aligned.

“Is Barbara okay?” you ask. You can smell her perfume; it’s spicy and floral and it makes you feel tipsier than you are.

“Oh, she’ll be fine,” Melissa says. “You don’t wanna know how many of my parties she’s walked out of. Hey, Barb!” She bellows it close to your ear, making you wince; it’s followed by a twinge of peculiar affection that so much volume can come from one little woman. “Check the lasagna, will ya!”

There’s an indistinct answer from the other room, full of barely-contained irritation. Melissa slugs back another swallow of wine as Jacob flicks the spinner.

He draws a card and reads, “Have you ever kissed a member of the same sex? Oh, well—obviously.”

Gregory and Janine shake their heads.

Melissa says, “Listen, what happens in cheer squad stays in cheer squad, alright,” to scandalized gasps from her audience. She looks at you. “How about you? No girls, huh?”

You’re arrested by her green gaze so close, the wine on her breath, the question itself. You start to tell her, yes, plenty of girls, but you’re blushing again, embarrassed, all your bravado from earlier draining away into the floorboards.

“Here,” she says, and leans in. You register the thought Holy shit in the moment before her lips touch yours. Her nose brushes your cheek. Her mouth is very soft and a hot breath puffs over you in the instant before she delicately parts her lips and you feel the sweet flick of her tongue. She leans back again. “Now you’ve kissed a girl.”

“Melissa!” Janine says, outraged, bewildered.

“I bet Ava would have come, if she’d known it was this kind of party,” Jacob mumbles to the bowl of pretzels in front of him.

“I’m going to go check on Barbara,” Gregory says, his shellshocked eyes firmly on the ground as he gets up.

“Hey, I’ll come with you,” Janine says, all nerves, “maybe the lasagna needs more parm,” and scrambles up after him.

Melissa’s pouring herself the last of the wine. She’s smiling to herself. You don’t get it: what was that for? Was it bait, like your name, like the ribbing comments, trying to get a rise out of you? Or maybe just out of the people around you—trying to be the most shocking in the room? You stare, trying to read the look of satisfaction on her face.

"I'll--the bathroom," you say, and get to your feet. "'Scuse me."

You've got kind of an idea where it is. The problem, you realize, is that you have to cut through the kitchen to get there. It's savory-smelling, rich with tomato scent, and full of furious whispering that dies instantly as you cross the threshold; Janine, intently grating parmigiano into a bowl, gives you a guilty look as Gregory quickly parts from her side. Barbara is at the island counter, maybe only half-participating, but she looks at you, too, and you know they've told her.

You feel it all over again: these are people who've had years to get to know each other. Who are you to them? Not really a friend, just a colleague, half-acquaintance. You're the new invitee, the odd one out, and even though it was Melissa that kissed you, you'll be the one who gets the blame for the ruined party, the awkwardness now swamping Mel's rowhouse. Your gut clenches. "Excuse me," you repeat and dart past them to the bathroom.

You run cold water from the tap and stick your wrists underneath the faucet, like you've got heatstroke. You wet your hands and press them to your cheeks, your neck, your nape, trying to quiet your thumping heart. You look in the mirror: there's a glazed look in your eye; you're conscious your lips are tingling. Why'd she do that?

You've been played with by straight women before. Not always out of conscious cruelty: some women, you've realized, are hungry for a kind of attraction that doesn't have fear and imbalance, and they can't always have that with men. They want to be wanted by someone they think won't hurt them, and they pick you--never thinking about what it does to your heart; never imagining that desire for a woman can be real, that it can mean anything to anyone.

Is that Melissa? She said that thing about the cheer squad. If she likes women, too, why would she mess with you? If she thinks you're straight, is she just trying to shock, the way she did Barb with that dirty answer about fingering, needling at what she thinks are your reservations and limitations? Because that's what she does, what she's been doing. Poking and poking, trying to get a rise. Should you have shouted? Should you have cried? What would satisfy her?

"Melissa Ann Schemmenti," you hear Barb say from the kitchen, muffled on the other side of the door. You freeze a moment, heart pounding all over again, then turn the water down to a trickle and inch toward the door, leaning closer. All you can hear are bits and pieces of what must be a thunderous lecture: "That girl... Well, I won't... You know that... Sweet, but... Learn to behave."

There's a sulky rumble in Mel's voice in answer.

You're going to have to go out there eventually. You listen a few more seconds, but if there's footsteps of people dispersing, or more conversation as they linger, you can't hear it. You resign yourself, turn off the water, dry off your hands. You give your cheeks a last press with your cold fingers, trying to ground yourself. You'll go out there and pretend it didn't happen. You'll make it through the night and see what happens tomorrow. That's all you can do.

Of course, you go out into the kitchen, and everyone else is gone, and Melissa's there.

She's frowning deeply and scrupulously wrapping the parmigiano in plastic. She says something under her breath; you catch a Sicilian curse and a "kids don't know..." When she hears the bathroom door click, her head goes up, and there's a moment, her eyes meeting yours, where she looks as nervous as you feel. She looks back down at the cheese, tightly sealing and wrapping its edges, then crosses to the big stainless fridge to put it away.

"Guess I scared you back there," she says. There's a challenge in her voice. Suddenly, your fear and loneliness uncoil; they spool out into anger. It's one thing to mess with you in words. You could call that friendliness, call it teasing. It's not fair to mess with you like this.

"You didn't scare me," you say. Your voice is stronger than you expected. Not loud, but sure. "I've kissed more girls than a cheer squad."

"Huh, look at you," Melissa says, "big player."

"What is your problem with me?"

The question catches her in the act of moving to the oven. She looks sharply at you--then away. There's something strangely un-Melissa about the act. She fiddles with the oven dial, then leans her hip against the counter and folds her arms over her chest. "Hon, if I had a problem with you, you'd know."

"Then what the hell was that?" You catch yourself starting to cross your arms, to mirror her, and lower them to your sides, where your hands clench tightly.

"I kissed ya." She lifts her chin and looks at you. "What, you didn't like it?"

Your anger wobbles; the question stumps you. "It--that doesn't--look, you've been doing this all year. Pushing me around. I don't get it. I didn't do anything to you. Maybe you think I'm annoying, or stupid, or--"

"Pushing you around?" Mel moves closer. Her voice gets a little tighter, a little louder. Her eyes glitter with challenge. "I invited you to my house."

"Yeah, you invited Jacob and Janine to your house, too."

"I don't like them the way I like you," she says, and freezes. You have a sense she's blurted something she didn't mean to say. It's stopped her right in the tracks of what she might have made an argument, draining the confidence out of her posture.

Your heart is thundering in your ears again. You replay that delicate, barely-there kiss: her face leaning toward yours, spicy scent of her perfume, wine on her breath, her green eyes, her soft, hot mouth. Her tongue. "What?" you say.

Her mouth twists. There's something faintly absurd about it, how it turns a grown woman toddleresque, and you get another pang of that strange affection from before, when she yelled right in your ear. It's strong enough to filter through your anger.

She shifts from foot to foot. With her shoes off in her own home, she suddenly looks half her usual height. Fondness washes against you. "Look," she says, "I'm forget-about-it years older'n you and I don't have time to play games, so--"

"This isn't playing games?"

She ducks her chin toward her chest. It's another gesture that's strangely unlike her. You hear Barbara's voice in your head: Melissa Ann Schemmenti... Learn to behave.

You move closer again. Her eyes flick up to yours and there's a sulky defiance in them, even when they drop briefly to your lips.

"Is this..." You don't know how to ask it. How do you ask Melissa Schemmenti do you want me in her own kitchen? "Melissa, what do you want?"

"C'mere," she says. She takes your chin in her grasp and brings you closer and kisses you again.

Wine, perfume, her skin. This time, it's not some playful schoolgirl thing. You can feel intention behind the slow press of her lips against yours. She lets it linger for a second, two, then leans back, looking into your eyes.

Whatever she sees has her turning you, your back against the counter, a hard line of granite. This time, you lean forward into her kiss. Her body presses into yours, all hips, soft belly, breasts. Her hands bracket your body against the edge of the countertop. Her way of deepening the kiss is to nip your lower lip and make you gasp, so that her tongue can flick into your mouth, brushing against yours and sending tingling ripples through your whole body.

You cup her jaw. She’s so, so warm. You slide a hand back and brush some of those loose, careless locks of red hair behind her ear. You kiss her and kiss her; when your tongue teases against hers, deliberately now, she makes a sound like a whimper that you feel head to toe, like a current of lightning passing through you, dispersing into the ground.

“So,” she says, with you securely pinned, flushed, breathing hard, “what do you think?”

What do you think? You go back in for another kiss. She chuckles against your mouth and can barely kiss you back for her smug smile. This time, it’s your kiss, not hers, and you explore exactly how you want to: sucking and nibbling her lower lip, licking into her mouth, your hands dropping to her waist, pulling her against you. She melts into you, and there’s a thunderous sense of power and desire in you, tied to how her arms come up to loop around your neck, how her spine softens and her body sways into yours.

When you’ve got your breath back, you ask her, “Should we go back out there?” You know you have to, but you don’t know how you’ll manage it. You’re sure you have this moment written all over your face, glassy-eyed and out of breath. Melissa does, too: her lipstick is smeared. “Maybe in a few minutes?”

“I think,” she says, “I should kick all of ‘em outta here, and you’n’me keep the game and the lasagna, and we have some fun.” Her hand drops, intervening between your body and the counter so she can firmly grab your ass. You squeak. “Huh?”

“I—I think that would be pretty rude.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” she says, though she doesn’t let go of your ass. “And they planned this whole thing for us, so…”

“Wait—” you lean back a little to get a clear picture of her face. “What?”

“Janine’s idea,” she says. “I found out after they invited you. They knew I thought you were cute—“

“You told them that?”

“Course I didn’t,” Melissa says, “I look like somebody who goes splashin’ their business everywhere? ‘Specially where Janine can hear it? I’ll tell you about what she did to me’n my sister some time. They figured it out on their own. I mighta been lookin’ at your ass at work.” She gives it a pinch.

“So the board game…” You frown.

“I think that was an accident for real.” Her face pinches in a frown. “‘Magine Janine tryin’ to get us to talk dirty to each other out there?” The frown vanishes and the leer she gives you makes you feel very, very naked. “We could talk dirty in here, if you wanna.”

“Okay,” you say, “I think we have to go serve dinner.” If you let her keep going, you don’t know if you’ll have the will to stop her. You hear the next thought in her voice: What? You never got fingered in a kitchen with all your coworkers right outside? “Wait—“ your brow creases. “Did Barbara seriously go along with this?”

Melissa clears her throat. “She didn’t know at first—and then, I wanted her here, y’know, in case, uh…”

“Things went badly?” you supply. Melissa pinks. You smile at the sweet strangeness of it. “Were you guys going to drink a bottle of wine so you could… Mope about me?”

“I wasn’t gonna mope about ya,” Mel says, “because I knew you weren’t gonna turn me down, and you’d be an idiot if you did, so.”

“I would,” you agree, and have to go back in for another kiss, two, three. “I would be an idiot,” you murmur against her.

“Okay,” she says when you can finally stop kissing her, “okay.” She gives your ass a slap that makes you gasp. Her eyes narrow, cataloguing that response, and her smirk, of course, resurfaces. “You take the lasagna out of the oven. I gotta fix my lipstick.” She steps away, and pauses. “You might wanna…” She gestures to her mouth.

You rub your tingling lips and your fingers come away with the pink of her lipstick. Your face heats.

“Or keep it,” Melissa says, “looks good on you,” and she gives a preening toss of her high ponytail as she turns away to the bathroom.

You watch her go, her hips swaying as she moves. You have a sense of the world tilted on its axis: all that teasing and game-playing—because she likes you? More than likes you—wants you? Janine inviting you, Jacob and Gregory playing along—because they really do care? Barbara scolding Melissa in this kitchen—because she wants her best friend to treat you right?

You find a napkin and scrub the lipstick off your mouth. Each step you take across the kitchen feels like levitation, an inch or two above the floor. You check the lasagna. There’s two: one big lasagna, and another small, plain one for Gregory. You lift each casserole dish out of the oven, and they smell better than ever in a house full of friends.

You cross to the doorway and peek out into the living room. “Lasagna’s ready,” you say to the four faces that turn to yours, and you know you’re smiling like an idiot, but you can’t help it.

Janine bounces up. “I can’t wait for you to tryyyy itttttt,” she sing-songs. “I learned from the best!”

Barbara passes you to find plates and ready the table. She gives your arm a little pat as she goes—the first time she’s ever touched you. You feel a Janine-like burst of effervescence at the thought that Melissa’s best friend approves.

Melissa reappears. She picks up a cutter for each lasagna, an armful of cloth napkins, another bottle of wine. Jacob and Gregory gather the glasses from the coffee table. You stick your hands back into the oven mitts to carry each dish in.

As everybody gets settled in, pulling out chairs, Janine proudly adding her bowl of grated parmigiano to the table (“just in case!” she burbles), you catch Melissa’s eye. She’s looking at you, a soft fondness in the gaze; the tender creases at the corners of her eyes make your chest squeeze around your heart, which feels three, four times as large as it was before.

“What do you think?” you ask the table. “Should we bring over the cards?”

Your friends laugh. Barbara shakes her head and rolls her eyes. Melissa Schemmenti, looking at you, smiles.

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

Author's Note:

My next fic was intended to be a sadder hurt/comfort fic, but I received the following prompt from @morgana-larkin:

I love your first fic and I wanted to know if you could do one more on the fun side. Where the whole group goes to either Melissa or reader’s place for game night and they all end up playing truth or dare while drunk and someone dares one of them to kiss the other. Then after everyone leaves the two of them end up admitting their feelings. Thank you!

I did make some tweaks to the premise to suit my storytelling style, which I hope is okay. I did my best to honor this fun and lovely prompt. Thank you so much!

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader

[delimeful]

let my mind reset (6)

warnings: angst, brainwashing, torture, psychological conditioning, references to injury/gore/death, harmful surgical implants, they are really going through it now, lmk if i missed any

-

Where the hours had passed slowly before, now they seemed to slip by all too fast. Every spare moment Roman had was spent in anxious anticipation of the next session and all that came with it.

He had never seen something like the haze used on a person before. Crav’n were invulnerable to it, and he’d only ever witnessed his aunt use it briefly on one of the local fauna once, a harmless and finicky tree-dwelling species about the size of his hand.

(Roman remembered the way Marta had compelled the little creature to pace back and forth, from place to place, wearing its will away until there wasn’t any hesitation between order and action. Then, she’d sent it walking into the nearby pond.

He remembered the way its survival instinct had set in late, the way it began to thrash, and still Marta didn’t call it back. He remembered feeling relieved when his mother stepped in and put a stop to the demonstration, scooping the poor beast from its fate with disapproval etched firmly in the set of her shoulders.

He didn’t remember if the creature had lived through the withdrawal, afterwards.)

Virgil was far from a simple animal, though, and despite Roman’s half-formed nightmares, he didn’t mindlessly succumb to the influence of the drug the first time it was forced on him, nor the second or the third.

In fact, every time the other Humans entered his cell with that unsettling green canister, he seemed just as panicked as Roman, if not more, putting up as much of a fight as he could with a battered body and a wrung out mind. No matter how they tutted or scolded, the other Humans still couldn’t get the mask on him until Roux had him forcibly subdued, which was a tiny victory in itself.

That didn’t stop the drug from taking its toll each and every time.

As horrible as it sounded, the worst part was that the effects weren't painful or malicious in nature. At least that would have been easier to fight against; a logical, instinctive response to being hurt.

No, it was far more insidious than that. The haze dulled pain. First, the physical: it eased away the stiffness of sore muscles and the burning of shocked nerves, leaving only a pleasant numbness behind. Then, the mental: it stalled the production of stressful chemical compounds, replacing them with whatever was needed to trick the victim’s mind into believing they were happy, relaxed, pliable.

Roman had never seen Virgil so unwound, so carefree, and he hated how unnatural the behavior seemed on the Human. It was a miserable experience, finally seeing him without the hunted slant to his posture, and feeling sickened by the sight.

What was worse was watching it wear off.

As though a switch had been thrown in reverse, Virgil would be plagued by a creeping, unrelenting sense of panic and dread, pacing around his cell frantically until a sudden hypersensitivity to touch left him crumpled in one spot, breathing harsh and pained.

Time after time, he was shown exactly how painful withdrawal from even a few doses was, until he was left bracing for it well before the next session had even begun.

“The last guys who had me would have killed for something like this,” Virgil said, nearly panting as he laid out on his back. He had his fingers pressed against his neck, feeling his pulse. His heart was racing so hard that Roman could see the veins pulsing eerily under the skin. A heavy spike of adrenaline, unprompted by anything tangible. “Bet she has at least a few people stashed away just to drain for easy cash.”

He spoke more, like this. Out of turn, about topics that were morbid and pessimistic, as though the thoughts were tumbling free of his mind without his permission. Roman never let his negative reactions to the more grim topics go beyond his ears flickering back; it wasn’t like he had the room or right to judge. They didn’t have very many reasons to be optimistic. Besides, he’d realized early on that the more worked up Roman got, the worse Virgil got in turn.

He still didn’t know the exact details of how Dren harvesting worked, and he was fairly sure he was better off for it. The very idea of setting an entire person aside for something like that was reprehensible, and therefore entirely possible for Marta.

“She said she… she gets rid of Humans that don’t break,” he replied after a moment, the words tumbling freely from him for once. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to turn a profit from it.”

He’d been trying to match the distant, dry tone Virgil had used, but he must have missed the mark, because the Human stiffened, and drew his hand back from Roman’s grasp to press it harshly against his eyes.

Belatedly, Roman realized what he’d just implied. Virgil was one of those Humans trying not to break, was at this very moment barely clinging to his composure, and he’d just been informed he was stuck between two horrific fates worse than death. “I didn’t mean—,”

“‘S alright,” Virgil interrupted, voice rough with exhaustion. “It’s not like I didn’t know. It makes me feel a little better, honestly.”

Roman stared at him, bewildered and still slightly aghast at his own stupidity, and Virgil shifted a few fingers to peer back with one eye.

“At least some Humans didn’t fall for it, y’know? At least some of them got out in their own way,” he continued, a thin thread of hopelessness tangled up in the words. “I was starting to wonder if the rest of space was right. If we were all just destined to be monsters with the right motivation.”

Roman should have been more alarmed at the implication that Virgil felt close to succumbing, that he was nearer than he’d ever wanted to be to a Human on the brink of falling under someone else’s blatantly malignant control, but all he could feel was a painful sympathy.

“You’re not a monster,” he said, and then, more firmly— “Humans aren’t monsters.”

Virgil’s eye widened slightly, gaze intent in a way that would have made Roman bristle in the past.

“They’re just people. They can do good or bad, just like anyone else. And sure, these guys are— they’re not doing good.” A pause, and Roman forced himself to meet Virgil’s stare. “But you have. You saved Patton, and you tried to save me, and you’re— you’re not a monster. You’re a good friend.”

Virgil buried his face back in his elbow and was quiet for a long moment.

“…You’re not so bad yourself.”

—

Roman hadn’t expected Marta to show up in person, not with how much she had delegated to her brainwashed underlings thus far, but arrive she did.

“Don’t fret, ghiva’al,” she crooned to him, passing by his cell with the lightest clink of her claws dragged against the bars. “I’m here to meet your little pet, not you.”

“Don’t—,” call me that, call him that, he wanted to snarl, but his throat closed up so sharply that it sounded a little like he’d choked.

Marta made her stilted croaking laugh, sparing him a glance that might have been pitying if it had bothered to reach her cold, empty eyes. “You always did struggle with words when emotional, didn’t you? Not nearly as well spoken as your mother. What a shame to see that hasn’t changed.”

There was a sharp clacking as an aggressive shudder ran through Roman’s scales, but he still couldn’t find his voice. Not even when Marta moved on to grip the bars of Virgil’s cell, her attention shifting to the Human where he stood warily in the center of the cage.

Roman had learned more than he’d ever thought he would about Human body language over the past few weeks. He knew from the slight sway to Virgil’s every shift that the Human was drained, likely barely keeping his feet.

Still, he was upright to face Marta, his height advantage allowing him to look down at her, and that was better than being crumpled on the ground at her feet. Little victories were all they had now, and they clung to each and every one.

Roux wasn’t there, Roman realized with a jolt, and the knowledge was enough to drag his mind into overdrive, a sudden double-edged hope springing to life in his chest.

Virgil must have already realized, because the way he held himself shifted into something taut and coiled, like he was preparing to lunge forward at the first opportunity, weak or not.

“Back of the cell,” Marta commanded, voice turned brisk and blunt in a way it hadn’t been with Roman. Like she was speaking to a beast instead of a person.

Virgil didn’t move, barely deigned to acknowledge the words beyond a brief flicker of his pupils upwards.

Marta waited, letting the silence stretch for a brief moment, and then clicked her teeth together in a mild reprimand. “The hard way, then.”

Despite her apparent annoyance, the words held a sort of anticipatory delight, and Roman felt the thick tar of dread slide under his scales as he watched her slide a small, triangular remote from a pouch at her side.

When she pressed the button in the center of it, she was looking at Roman.

It was Virgil who went rigid and fell.

Despite knowing it would undercut every lie he’d tried to sell about how little he cared, despite the fact that he was playing right into her claws, Roman couldn’t help but rush to the bars separating them, a shout of horror catching in his chest.

The Human hit the ground hard but stayed chillingly frozen, with every muscle locked into hard lines. He didn’t make a sound until Marta shifted her thumb away from the button, the motion somehow allowing him to finally go limp like a puppet with strings cut.

“Virgil!” Roman managed, though the sound of it was nearly lost in the sudden loudness of the Human’s gasping breaths. He hadn’t been breathing before, Roman realized with a terrified shock.

Whatever Marta was doing, it hadn’t countered Virgil’s natural stubbornness, and he climbed back to his feet with less staggering than Roman would have expected.

His gaze caught on the tremor to Virgil’s hands, the shuddering of his pulse, and he understood. Adrenaline.

The fight or flight instinct, Virgil had called it while talking with Patton. Roman had seen him choose to fight once, at their very first meeting, but even that couldn’t compare to the speed and ferocity of the way the Human lunged now.

Marta didn’t flinch back when he made loud, skull-rattling contact with the bars, but she didn’t blink, either, keeping her eyes firmly locked on Virgil as she pressed the button once more.

Instead of letting him drop, however, she reached out and seized him by the face, claws digging in on either cheek and holding tightly.

Virgil couldn’t so much as flinch away from the pain, and Roman slammed his arm against the door of his own cell with force, furious at his own helplessness.

Marta released the trigger again, and this time, every gasping inhale Virgil took was dosed with her haze. He tried to jerk back, but it was far faster acting straight from the source, and he had barely a moment before his expression dropped to something hollow and smooth, his desperate strength wavering and then extinguishing like a flame with nothing left to burn.

“Down,” Marta commanded, releasing her grip, and Virgil stood in place for a few long heartbeats before his legs collapsed underneath him.

She waved a hand absently down at him, still scattering her haze thick in the air. “There you go. It feels so much better when you listen, doesn’t it?”

Virgil twitched, a ripple of discontent crossing his face, but didn’t respond. He was shaking relentlessly now, his entire body trembling in a way that had Roman deeply concerned.

“You’re safe with me,” Marta lied, reaching down to glide the palm of her hand over the side of Virgil’s face. “You’re only safe with me. Everyone else wants to hurt you, but I’ll make the pain go away. Always do as I say, okay?”

Virgil didn’t move away, even as her rough skin caught on the wounds her claws had left only moments ago. His breathing grew wispier, slower, until he appeared almost calm, his eyes dazed and distant.

“Let’s try this again,” Marta straightened, and when her hand left Virgil’s cheek, he strained after it for a handful of seconds. “Back of the cell.”

Virgil climbed back to his feet, and Roman closed his eyes as the Human quietly began shuffling across his stretch of cell. He felt all of six winters old again, watching his aunt lead something fuzzy and helpless back and forth, closer and closer to the water’s edge.

“Good. Now, heel.” More shuffling, wordless as a corpse.

How long did he have before Virgil took his own plunge?

—

It took longer than before for Virgil to regain coherence, afterwards.

Roman knew the moment he’d come back to himself, because the soft grip around his hand had instantly vanished, yanked away so sharply that he’d barely registered the movement before Virgil was up on his feet and backing away.

“Virgil,” he tried, and the Human shook his head, the motion harsh, his hands lifting up to grip roughly at his hair in a distressed motion Roman had only ever caught glimpses of back on the ship.

He’d continued to retreat until he hit the furthest corner of the cell, where he slid down and curled in on himself, utterly unreceptive to any of Roman’s stilted calls. Roman caught his expression crumpling into a miserable grimace before he buried his face in his knees and hid that away too.

The silence stretched.

If there were some right words to say here, Roman couldn’t find them. Even if he did, he undoubtedly wouldn’t be able to say them. The helplessness sheared against his scales like rough sand, but how could he allow himself to wallow in it when he at least still had his mind, his existence still unarguably his own?

Freshly taunted by the knowledge that he didn’t have even that much, Virgil remained still and taut and quiet in the furthest reaches of his cell for what felt like a very long time.

When he did finally stir, Roman was appalled to see the faint streaks on his face where his tears had washed away the sweat and grime.

Patton had described Human weeping as arrhythmic vocalizations, much like Ampens, but with a physical manifestation as well. Roman hadn’t known that Humans could cry silently, like a pup gone still and quiet in the face of danger, with only the barest hitching of breath to indicate distress.

The expression on Virgil now was creased into firm lines, but it didn’t seem agonized or crumbling at the edges. Rather, as he climbed to his face, he seemed to hold the same bitter resolution Roman had seen in him a few times before: during the tail end of their first meeting, and after the fight with the raiders, both times when he’d thought he was about to be left alone again.

“Roman,” he started, and then worked his jaw tersely, once, twice. Rather than continue, he held out a hand, palm-up in silent offering.

Things had changed a lot over the course of their captivity, Roman reflected as he reached out and set his own hand in the Human’s grasp with barely a shred of hesitation. It felt like second nature by now, to reach out and cling on whenever his stomach was roiling with stress.

Virgil watched him for a moment longer, and then wrapped his fingers around Roman’s hand and drew closer, slowly pulling his arm up until he had positioned Roman’s claws just above the skin of his neck.

“This,” Virgil said, each word resolute, “is the best place to sever if you want to kill a Human quickly.”

The words took a dull, ringing moment to sink in, but once they did, Roman jerked back sharply. “Virgil, what—?”

For the first time, Virgil held on, keeping his hand pinned in place with ease even as he had to grip the bars with his other hand to remain upright. Roman could see the way the Human’s pulse fluttered under the skin, a heartbeat racing visibly exactly where Virgil had indicated.

“It’s important. You need to know,” Virgil insisted, and lifted their joined hands higher, to his temple. “Head wounds bleed a lot. Gashes up here are valuable because the blood runs down and drips into their eyes, which will work pretty well as a distraction—,”

“Stop it!” Roman demanded, yanking harder as his panic increased. “I’m not going to— stop talking like that! I don’t need to know how to hurt you!”

At the start of their voyage, Roman would have done just about anything for information like this, anything to feel safe on his own ship again. So why was he learning it only now, when each word and accompanying gesture made him feel ill and rotted down to the tip of his tail?

“It’s not— Roman, it’s not about me,” Virgil said, frustration seeping into his voice. He let Roman drag his hand away from his face, but still didn’t let go. “It’s about them.”

Roman wasn’t sure he believed that. “I don’t need to kill anyone. They’re brainwashed, this is Marta’s fault! I know the truth, now.”

Virgil shook his head, ghosted the fingers of his free hand over his implant scar with a distant, sickened expression. “It’s not that simple. I don’t want guilt to be the reason— Look. If it’s them or you, I want it to be you. I want you to make sure it’s you.”

And what if it's me or you? Roman thought, but the words lodged firmly in his chest until he could barely breathe around them.

“They all made their choice,” Virgil continued once it became clear that Roman wouldn’t respond. “They’ve kept making that choice, every time. You have to want to survive, too, okay?”

Mutely, Roman nodded, trying to ignore the creeping sense of horror. He pulled Virgil’s hand back towards himself, fumbled for speech for a long moment before finding the words and hoping they didn’t feel like a betrayal when spoken aloud.

“The underbelly,” he started, and Virgil’s expression— shut down. Every hint of body language went flat like stone, and just as unyielding.

“No.” The word was final, a sentence all its own, and Roman scowled mulishly.

“But—!”

“Roman.” Virgil lifted his other arm over so that he was clasping Roman’s hand between both of his own. “You’re the only one left, right? You told me that.”

The thought was still a wound-like pang in his chest, even after all this time. “Yes,” he admitted. “But, even still—,”

“No way. I don’t want to hear it, man. There’s nobody I would be willing to use it on, anyhow.” Virgil kept his gaze locked firmly on a point past Roman’s shoulder, but his shoulders were set, his voice steadfast.

There was no point arguing. Not now, when the both of them were one wrong move from collapse.

“Okay,” Roman finally said, and forced himself not to protest when Virgil reclaimed the position of lecturer. It was a struggle not to wince away with each gory anecdote, a full guide on the quickest ways to make the Human body stop functioning or even turn on itself.

“Gut wounds are slow to kill, but they can be painful enough to debilitate. There are vulnerable organs here, below the rib cage, and damage to them is difficult to treat without surgery if the wound is severe enough…”

Still, he held himself at attention, did his best to memorize every word.

If Virgil wouldn’t accept knowledge about Roman’s own vulnerabilities as a gift of equal exchange, Roman would simply have to treasure this information with the same dedication that he applied to the rest of their small crew.

After all, knowing all the individual weak points of a Human would make it that much easier for him to protect each and every single part of Virgil.

Virgil wasn’t going to die. Not here, and certainly not by Roman’s own claws. Not if Roman had anything to say about it.

#sanders sides fic #wibar #lmmr #let my mind reset #ts virgil #ts roman #humans are deathworlders #my writing #writing #sanders sides #space au

[sisterdivinium]

It’s the questions that keep us going, that taunt us so we’ll come back again and again, whether we’re given any “definitive” answers which we might each interpret differently or left to wonder and imagine possibilities all on our own.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this, warrior nun.” Doesn’t this line invite us to ask who Adriel might be talking to, exactly?

Of course Ava currently occupies the rank of warrior nun that gives the show its name… But we also know Ava is not a nun and that her qualification as a warrior is recent (setting aside the psychological fortitude she surely possesses as a survivor of the traumas that have shaped her past, to be sure). Even from his prison, Adriel was aware of the happenings in the outside world, be it from his connection to the divinium once used in his armour, be it thanks to informants such as Vincent in whatever modes of communication they might have had between them — so Adriel knows this, he knows of how unconventional it is for Ava to be the warrior nun. Isn’t it possible that, in this moment, he’s not talking to her, at least not as Ava Silva, the individual?

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this, warrior nun.” Only a couple of months have elapsed since Adriel has been freed of his tomb and made Ava’s direct acquaintance. Why would he make a reference to the millennium spent beneath the Vatican to her while calling her by her title rather than her name? It certainly cannot be a mention of those two months, as those are negligible in the conscience of an immortal being who has already waited a thousand years for reckoning.

He isn’t hinting at a vengeance against Ava Silva, as herself, even if she is the one standing in front of him in flesh and blood; he’s orchestrating a vengeance against “the warrior nun”, the abstract class of those responsible for his captivity in the first place.

It’s hard to say he necessarily sees Areala in Ava when he says “warrior nun”. Perhaps so, perhaps not. But he does seem to see in the current halo bearer an avatar of someone (or multiple “someones”) he intends to defeat, the echoes of the past embodied in a single woman, a vessel through which their voices may yet ring after they are long gone. Perhaps he can see more than any of us can — just as he sees the wraith demons and passes the ability on to Lilith, might it not be possible for him to see something else when he looks at Ava or, at least, in the direction of the halo?

Could the halo, as once suggested to me by @ghostofcatscradle, carry some of its previous bearers’ “essence” — providing one explanation to Ava’s “meetings” with Shannon or Areala in season one — preserving some portion of them even as it inhabits another woman’s flesh? Could that be readily visible to a being of Adriel’s species and provenance, as the wraiths are?

Or could he think he saw something? Adriel is posed as a much more powerful creature than a human, with much more knowledge at his disposal. He mentions how no human can carry the halo for long before becoming somehow twisted — but what if there is truth in the reversed idea as well and his own long stay on Earth has warped him? Sometimes we find that those deemed “mad” are the most lucid, but would it be such a strange inversion to consider that this amazing being who boasts of his greater lucidity might be the greatest madman himself? He barely attempts to solve the contradictions so clear to Ava when she points out how his discourse of wanting to save the world from Reya's oppression is unaligned with his own forceful, violent methods of combat which cause suffering to the same creatures he claims to champion. Perhaps he comes from a pre- or post- logic realm. Perhaps he is insane. Maybe he is just a power-hungry sophist who will use whatever justification is at hand to legitimate his own selfish cause.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this, warrior nun.” Vindication, yes, but in what form? At the end of season one, Adriel sought to seize the halo, yank it out of Ava and be done with it. In season two, he wants a fight instead of just trying to reach for it and accomplish his goals. Yes, his plans concerning Reya had just been spoiled… But if he had been “waiting a long time”, then this battle is not about what just happened in regards to Reya and the ark. It’s ancient, it’s personal. It’s not just the halo anymore — was it ever?

When Ava resurrects, is that the halo’s doing? When Mother Superion is brought back to life, is that the halo’s handiwork? Could it be sentient as some like to hypothesise it is? Or, as an object said to have been stolen from Reya, is it accomplishing her mysterious will by manifesting such powers? Or could it be that the equivalence between Reya and God made by Michael after a lifetime under the former’s spell is not as true as he was led to believe and there might be another, grander, perhaps even will-less entity pulling the strings?

Or could it be that the miracle is not divine, but Ava’s? Perhaps not even just hers, but something available only to humans, that Suzanne might carry as well, something that recognised her as it recognised Ava while she was brought back. There are no records of the halo resurrecting people…

… But it is said to give different bearers different powers. How or when does a bearer develop a new ability? Is there a limit to how many she can find and use? Might they not overlap sometimes?

Moreover, in an environment that firmly believes the halo is a weapon against its enemies, did anyone ever bother to ask whether it could do the opposite of slaughter, if it could be used for purposes unrelated to war against so-called Hell? It takes Jillian, an outsider to the Order, to voice that curiosity.

For each possibility listed above as far as who is behind performing miracles, what accompanying conclusions might there be?

The halo as a sentient object seems to open less interesting consequences than a world where a higher force has confusing aims or is truly neutral and both favours and hampers the living; or one where even common people, even “freaks”, as Ava calls herself more than once, are capable of miracles, of changing their world given the right support and tools.

We don’t actually need hard, official answers.

It’s the suggestions, the maybes, the could bes that really hook us in — is it any wonder that the more dedicated avatrice shippers are so focused on the potential for that time period spent in Switzerland, off-camera, which we did not witness?

The questions are inexhaustible — even with just eighteen total episodes, even when there was yet so much to see. If we can keep asking questions, if we see the beauty in them and how much more enticing they can be compared to a creator’s answers or incomplete plans (Mary taking vows and replacing Superion, really?!), we’ll have perhaps even more on our plates than another season would have given us. Which isn’t to say we shouldn’t mourn the loss of a continuation but merely to duly cherish what we have effectively received and give it its due attention.

It’s what’s left unsaid or unexplained, it’s what even creators might say isn’t set in stone and still open for debate (such as the halo being sentient or not); the blanks, the doubts and possibilities are where we come in with our understanding or our own stories. Why? How? What if?

Keep finding questions to ask... And Warrior Nun lives on.

#warrior nun #this has been sitting here for weeks on end lol time to post it #my plea so that you don't move on i guess #exercises in observation #sometimes when i express surprise at the amount of aus i see floating around it's because i think the show has enough questions #to warrant fics that hover a bit more close to home. not necessarily canon-compliant but just more in tune with it #if that makes sense. i'd give an example of something i myself have written but #my big au that changes One Detail is yet to be written. it's all in my head just not on paper. #i also express surprise at how little we talk about all of these things and more -- the worldbuilding the lore the what ifs #but anyway. if you follow me you probably knew that already #i suppose this also classifies for that other tag of mine #meta fandom talk i guess

[dorothygale123]

No, I'm not making excuses to talk about these figures more, because I DONT NEED THEM. I don't need this cute little chonker or his doodle-bopper, this post is for academic purposes! You see, Hundun isn't just a cute little nugget, he's also a primordial creation deity.

Hundun is often seen seen as a being of primal chaos from which the rest of the universe was created. As I stated previously, 2 gods (named Shu and Hu) felt bad for him and tried to carve him a new face. Shockingly, this had rather painful results and killed our little chonker. The universe supposedly came to be from his corpse, similar to the world egg. This could lead to the interpretation that Hundun is the world egg and that Shu and Hu trying to give him a face is what caused it to crack.

Whatever the case, he doesn't seem to have stayed dead as he's often reported to be among the creatures that live on the myhtical Mt Kunlun. He runs up and headbutts good people (like a cat), and leans on bad people (also like a cat). Basically baby boi is a six-legged, four-winged, headless, tailless chubby cat.

I also said that he was part of a set of creatures along with Taotie that mirror the 4 Guardian Beasts, so let's talk about those guys while we're at it. Together they're called the Sixiong, meaning 4 Fiends or 4 Evils. As far as I can tell they don't directly correlate with specific guardians (i.e. Suzaku, Byakko, Genbu, and Seiryuu), it's more that the group as a whole mirrors the Sixiang.

First up, Taotie. This guy, as previously mentioned, likes to eat so much he just full on ate himself. Yikes. He's described as looking like an ox with human hands and horns coming out of its back like a hedgehog.

Unfortunately, the next 2 don't have adorable minis, so we'll have to make do.

Something between a tiger and a dog with boar tusks and a human face, Taowu is one freaky looking peice of work, just like his friends. He's extremely stubborn and aggressive, willing to pick a fight with anything he comes across. Luckily, he's also very susceptible to reverse psychology as asking him to eat you will make him refuse out of spite.

Last but not least we have Qiongqi, who is supposedly descended from the Yellow Emperor. He's a huge tiger with wings and horns out the everywhere. It hates righteousness, so if it hears two people arguing it'll bite the head off the one who's right and the noses off everyone who agrees. Then he sidles up to the asshole and starts brining them his kills like a house cat. A massive, horned, man-eating house cat.

One thing I noticed is that while the Sixiong are all really monster-y, the Sixiang are a lot more normal in comparison. Suzaku is a big bird and Byakko is a big tiger. Even Seiryuu, the dragon, is part of a recognizable species. The only member who doesn't always follow this rule is Genbu, what with him being part turtle part snake, but even he is a lot less mixed up than any of the members of the 4 Fiends. It should also be noted that he just gets depicted as a big turtle a lot of the time anyways. An interesting point of contrast, I think.

Sh*tpost Masterlist

#mythology sh*tposting #chinese mythology #hundun #tao tie #qiongqi #taowu #4 evils #4 fiends #seiryuu #genbu #suzaku #byakko #the 4 guardian beasts #sixiang #sixiong #mythology #lmk #lego monkie kid

[sepublic]

            Something that’s been bothering me for a while is… What is the blood of Titan the Golden Wyvern? What is it called, what are its properties? I already brought up Maelstrom for Sovereign, and Dark Matter for Overlord; Dark Matter in particular I should mention, is VERY reactive to the psychology of those around it, and can manifest as one’s worst fears for example.

         But what of Titan? And as I think about it, I think I’ve finally gotten an answer… The Philosopher’s Stone.

         Allow me to change and retcon my established lore for a bit. Midas’ Philosopher’s Stone isn’t one at all, it’s a failed attempt that gave him, of all things, a gold touch. That’s how it is from an in-universe standpoint… But from a meta perspective, Midas’ attempt at a Philosopher’s Stone is more accurate to the real life concept that inspired this adaptation.

         So the actual Philosopher’s Stone is indeed what the Horned Demon and now Tamericus seek out; A substance that enhances and catalyzes the processes of the universe, amplifies its raw matter to new heights. I choose this for a number of reasons;

         Firstly, the Golden energy that Titan embodies is meant to represent the physical. The body, stuff like that. So it makes sense to focus on physical attributes, and this evolved into Titan being able to transfer and store kinetic energy, redirect it, transmute things, etc. This of course pairs nicely with Trexdis’ mirror abilities that include reflecting attacks, given she was transformed by the Mirror World, itself a network of Golden energy branching off from the Shining Void.

         I also know that the real-life idea of the Philosopher’s Stone was described as the ‘perfect element’ that couldn’t be destroyed and whatnot, which I think fits Titan’s more physical motif compared to her siblings. Not only that, but…

         As mentioned, the Wayvren family found its origins in two individuals, whose blood was converted into a pseudo-Philosopher’s Stone. This not only meant that they could survive becoming a host to Titan or any of the Wyverns, it also meant they would enhance the power of whatever Wyvern they bonded to. And it was this extra edge that enabled Titan to defeat Overlord and reign as victor of the Wyvern Wars.

         Unlike her siblings, Titan couldn’t boost her power with a regular Philosopher’s Stone, because that was already her blood and already a part of her. But by ‘changing the recipe’ in a host, for lack of a better phrasing, Titan created a new version that would work for her.

         Prior to this decision, I’d come up with this concept years ago as an explanation for why a Wyvern would even need to bond with a host to begin with, as well as how the Wayvrens are so long-lived, and ultimately tying the idea of a red liquid that enhances power to another red liquid that, would you have it, enhances power! So the Wayvrens are technically the source, the first example of the Philosopher’s Stone.

         And with Tamericus’ attempt to use Wayvren blood as a means of crafting an even better version, I figured… What if we kinda worked with that, and the fact that I needed another type of ‘blood’ for Titan herself that also accentuated the physical? Thus, the Philosopher’s Stone is just Wayvren’s legendary blood. Like Dark Matter and Maelstrom, it has the capacity to propagate as a resource and change the world, and while Maelstrom seems more overt in its Terrorbrai legacy, the Philosopher’s Stone arguably reigns supreme through the Wayvren family.

         Whether Tamericus knows this staggering truth or suspects it, I dunno. But either way, her attempt at using Wayvren blood to create the Philosopher’s Stone is actually just reverse-engineering the ‘original recipe’ from the altered take, bringing out its original properties. This includes magic and a variety of supernatural ingredients, as mentioned before, Midas himself.

         Plus, this goes back to what I said about Lloyd and Midas’ parallels. In addition to being gold and green champions with their own found family of outcasts, they both have some variation of the Philosopher’s Stone that has altered their bodies. Lloyd’s is derivative of the original source, while Midas’ is a failed outside attempt to recreate it. One was naturally born with it, the other had to make it himself and inject it into his own body. One was cursed with this from birth, the other wanted and chose it for himself.

         I should mention, it’s fairly hidden knowledge that the Philosopher’s Stone is Titan’s blood (not related to Owl house’s but what a coincidence of term huh), or there would’ve been a lot more effort by alchemists to just bypass the alchemical trial and error by simply searching for the fabled Golden Wyvern, getting it right from the source. The reason for this, aside from Titan not wanting mortals to be privy to the power and secrets of such divine energy-beings, is simple; She wasn’t spreading her blood all willy-nilly to control others with.

        Sovereign did so to enact their will upon reality, as did Overlord. But Titan, as mentioned before, was more of a Free Will type of person. And when the first Wayvrens were altered, it was with a variation of the Philosopher’s Stone that was different enough that Titan couldn’t just control them with it, which was better; A mutual symbiosis brought out the synergy of a Wyvern better than forced control on either end. Ultimately, Titan was a lot more conservative about flexing her power over others, even if she technically did fight to enforce a policy of her own.

        Now, all that said... I do have to adapt to this change; Namely, the color of Dark Matter. Originally it was red, but since the Philosopher’s Stone is and I made THAT into Titan’s blood (not related to King Clawthorne’s dad), I need a new and appropriate color for something called Dark Matter. And it can’t be purple, since that’s taken by Sovereign’s Maelstrom.

#Titan the Golden Wyvern #GEverse #oc #ocs #my ocs #midas the golden man #Tamericus

[anamthisside]

Freedom is to wear whatever you want.

Speaking from the perspective of an ex-feminist.

Hello everyone.

I left feminism because I realized that modern feminism is toxic and it’s not equality but it’s favoring one gender and neglecting the other. 

‘Hijab is oppressive!’ ‘Ban hijab, save our women’ are the most common chants you’ll hear everywhere in western countries.

 Mostly every feminist believes that a woman can wear anything she wants and even if she goes around naked on street no one, absolutely no one has the right to tell her something or comment on her just like men you know, they go around bare everywhere and nobody says anything, just like that.

Now, reverse it.

A woman going out wearing a hijab, people at her like she’s some kind of different creature. People call her out saying, ‘remove it, you’re oppressed, we can help you’ and then go on having a protest about banning the hijab.

I know maybe some people in my comments will leave hate sayings but just have an open mind and break the barrier which is inside your mind of Rad feminism and oppressed people.

I believe that people who are oppressed should get justice but if it is someone’s choice to do something you are no one to tell her anything.

According to many people, ‘The fewer clothes- the more freedom, the more clothes- the less freedom.

I believe that a woman can wear anything she wants but if a woman wears a hijab by her choice, she’s asked to take it off. She’s looked upon as a thief, a terrorist, and an oppressed person.

But the reality is completely different.

It’s her choice to wear a hijab, it’s her right, and you’re no one to go and tell her anything!

And let me tell you, Hijab is not suffocating and neither it limits you. Hijab is your choice and you have no problem doing you activities wearing it. Some people say that hijab is a psychological torture but its not, a woman covers herself because she wants to not because she is ashamed of her body. She wants to cover herself because she can and if she feels comfortable wearing it you are no one to say anything to her. 

Islam does not allow anyone to force a woman to wear hijab people who do this are bad not Islam. Hijab does not affect your future or the people around you. Hijab does not affect your grade if you go to school wearing it nor it affects your salary if you work wearing it.

Freedom is not banning the cloth many women want to wear, freedom is not disrespecting someone’s belief or someone’s culture, freedom is not implementing your thoughts on others.

I can wear whatever I want, it’s my right and I will not surrender. 

Freedom is to wear whatever you want!

#feminismistoxic #wear what you want #hijab #feminine beauty #feminism #equality #ex feminist #anti radfems #anti feminism #real feminism #fuck fake feminism

[jujak]

hi! i’m shu ( s/h, 21+ ), and this is my angry birb ju yiju, aka sunbirb of the sirens, quite literally bird brained and hot headed. family myth says she’s been cursed to turn into a jujak because her great great great ancestor’s broke a promise to the jujak 😢 thought she might be able to break the curse if she leaned into the whole guardian protector stuff but instead she’s stuck in the institute now... if you see her eat a worm & gag say NOTHIN about it. here’s her pages ( stats, power, bio ), plus a tldr & mini plots under the cut! hit the heart if u wanna plot, or just hmu in ims, i also have discord if that’s preferred c: see y’all around ♡

tldr

according to family myth, the ju family’s been cursed to turn into a jujak thanks to their ancestor’s stupidity :/ so now at least one person of each generation turns into a jujak & back again over the course of the month, with bonus sun powers! for her family, that’s yiju

( that myth may be real, may not be real. who knows! )

mutation wise, she’s usually some mix of half-bird half-human, the exact ratio depending on what point of the transformation cycle she’s in. the closer she is to going full jujak, the stronger her powers, though it’s also reliant on the presence of the sun. can also control solar energies, but entirely limited to what she can generate internally. the sun taunts her with its unlimited solar power 😠

to avoid the gawking over a bunch of bird-people, her family’s lived in a pretty isolated countryside town for as long as she can remember. they’re a well-kept secret and weren’t the only mutants around, but she didn’t get much social interaction outside until the sirens & the institute

the sirens ( before they were known as ) were the first people she met outside of her town, and yiju decided to follow her new friends out into the big, strange world!!

plus, their cause sounds like a promising curse-breaking path to her. she’s protecting mutants! doing jujak guardian things! getting captured & put into the institute—wait what 😢

jujak!yiju embodies her fiery element a lil too well, gets (un)righteously angry about injustices done against mutants thanks to her protector instincts. can be aggro as all heck & down to burn, easily pointed in a direction that she’ll juggernaut through!

human!yiju is chiller, kind of confused but going with whatever her more jujak self is doing since... why not 🤷🏻‍♀️ mischievous, rough & tumble country girl, kind of directionless by herself, so its nice to have something to do, like running down anti-mutant assholes

her memories as human vs jujak aren’t separate, but they don’t mix as well. questionable access to her memory, which saves her from feeling too guilty about siren-related activities

originally went by codename sunbird in the sirens, but siren fans? supporters? mutant crime enthusiasts? called her sunbirb & she was like 👀 im stealing that!!

not quite taking the institute’s training seriously, though she appreciates not being a literal caged bird. fails classes for the heck of it, scares other students if she notices them staring funny. birbs just wanna have fun 😎

plots

fellow sirens please hmu i have so many ideas... they are her treasured lil friends w bonus MURDER

small town buds: someone who grew up in the same town / secret mutant enclave as her! ( extra: a reality warper who kept their town from being discovered until something happened? wc maybe )

someone who’s figured out that reverse psychology works so well on her... tell her u think she hates beans & she’ll eat all ur beans to prove a Point

being half of a person most of the time is actually not that fun, but maybe she’s found someone she can be a lil more whole around? ( maybe: nullifying powers or just a really good chill friend )

someone who’s absolutely terrified of the sirens & she loves to prank them

or maybe they think the sirens were the worst & hate them.. enemies!!!

or someone who makes her think a lil deeper about the morality of her actions... #deep

someone she’s taken under her literal wing, mini protecc activate!! the younger sibling she’s never had

anyone w a bird-related codename is her bff now... she’s starting a bird club ( actual bird properties not required )

currently taking flight and aerodynamics, human and mutant history, and the mystic arts, so classmates? she also flunked basic ethics last semester rip

someone to come people watching w her on the roof

friends!!! enemies!!! tense dynamics!!! situationships!!! clown behaviour!!! please & thank u 🥺

sorry about the embarrassingly long intro i’m super excited to plot lets go!!! 🤙🏻

#⌜𝘖𝘍 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘚𝘖𝘜𝘛𝘏⌟ ☼ ⋰ ooc. #xhqintro

[alyjojo]

Gift Ideas For Your Aquarius - December 🛵 2023:

What they want: Queen of Swords & 7 Wands

What they need: King of Cups, 6 Swords rev & 4 Pentacles

The thought behind it: 3 Cups & 4 Cups

Main Energy: The Magician

Gift ideas for Aquarius:

Aquarius is definitely the freedom fighter, calling for Justice and ready to take on the entire world and its problems as a battle they feel they can fight…with other people, the government, the system, pick a thing they all have one. They could be focused on politics, world issues, injustice wherever it stands (for them personally). They may hold a lot of grudges, and fight a lot of battles, whether actually on some picket line arguing a case, or online arguing some shmuck with a shitty opinion. They’re extremely detached from their emotions, always focused on facts and truth, what’s best for the world collectively (in their own mind), and following their own moral compass. I say “in their own mind”, because you can have an Aquarius on the picket line, and an Aquarius as a VP of the institution being picketed, and both think they know best. And both probably have valid points. You’re wanting to get them back to a more emotional place, connected with their heart, cuz quite frankly you & other people could be sick of hearing about the wars, genocide, politics, the food industry, environment, aliens, whatever their thing is, but you don’t want to argue about it (because they’re ready for that). 😆

1. The most obvious would be something related to their beliefs, arguments or obsessions. They want to feel heard and assume they’re not, or no one they know (not many) cares like they do. It would probably mean a lot to them to be shown you hear them. Something like a “fk the patriarchy” keychain on the ground 🎶 😁 If they’re fighting the food chain, gift card to Whole Foods, if they’re defending testing on animals, vegan makeup, etc etc. At heart, they like to feel like they’re doing their part for the things they believe in, so help them do that.

2. Something old that they like and have always liked, but without “past” things attached to it, if that makes sense. In the preshuffle, the only message coming out was pushing away the past, they don’t want to return there. You could revitalize something past related in a new way. Like you used to bake cookies together, so you buy them some new nifty silicone baking things and a duck cookie cutter because they always loved ducks. Cute, sentimental, gets them in their feelings enough to 🥹 that’s what you want, but everyone is still living in present time, making new memories. The more personalized to your/their experience, the more original & off the wall, the better.

3. A gift related to “caring”, literally. For example, a book on “How Not to Care What People Think”, and some funny buttons with a panda flipping someone off & a world peace pin, together. The book is for the point of logic, they say they don’t care, but they wouldn’t be defensive if they didn’t. So defensive = care, they don’t know how to emotion, and a gift that *literally* says that would do them a world of good, relating to their own paradox and reverse-psychology-ing them, chuckling at them…lovingly. They definitely take some thought and creativity, but that’s why they have The Magician here.

#Aquarius #gift ideas #December 2023 #holidays #shopping #astrology #zodiac signs #gifts

[impyssadobsessions]

Vacation Crashers: Ao3 Chapter 29 (Final Chapter)

“She's using psychological war fair!” Damian accused pointing at Jazz, who just called uno. “Now, Why would I do that?” Jazz admittedly having much more fun than she should have. She just laid down a red 7, changing the color from yellow to red. She had won the last three rounds, causing the whole group to try and “take her down”. “Same reason you +4 me last round! I had 20 cards!” Danny huffed as he continued to draw, having the worse luck. The second game was the only time he had uno, and it was taken from him by a stack of three +4s. “Sorry, little brother. Only card I had to play.” Jazz chuckling amused as Danny grumbling.

“Danny! Give me something good!” Jason called across the room. “I'm tryinggggg!!!”Danny whined as he kept drawing cards, his hand going from seven, the lowest he had since the second round, to double the amount and counting. “You're making alliances!” Damian hissed. “Yeah, to take down Jazz!” “Hey!” Jazz acted playfully offended. “Even if he did get something good it wouldn't help you.” Tim pointed out. “Make it blue! I got something good for blue!” “I don't have anything for blue.” “Tough luck for you, Dickie, this is a group effort.” “Whatever you have for blue still wouldn't work! Because Cass is after you!” Tim explained again. “Right. Want to trade?” Jason holding out his hand of cards to Cass to let her see what she wanted to trade. Cass leaning over picking out cards, thinking hard. “That's no fair!” Tim huffed, frustrated. He'll reverse them just to mess with them. Still bitter about Jason calling out Dick and Tim for cheating. >:T “Shhh! Its strategic winning!” Jason was really into it, all of them were. Cass picking out the cards and then offering a couple of hers in return. “How do you not have a seven or a wild by now?” Damian checking Danny's hand, believing he maybe lying. Plus he was impatient wanting to play his wild card, he had been keeping secretly up his sleeve this whole time. “Don't look at his hand.” “Its fine, I got nothing.” “..........You luck in this game is absolutely abysmal.” Damian sitting back down, almost feeling pity for Danny. Danny jolted, holding up card in his hand celebratory, after pulling half of the deck into his hand. “OH AHHA! Its not a wild or a +4-” Damian was relieved about the last one. “But it is blue!” “Good job glowbug!” Jason grinning as his “plan” was coming to motion as Danny laid down a blue 7. -It quickly came crashing down as soon Jazz laid down her blue 7 over Danny's, as they were playing with stack clause. “AH! WHOOHOO! I won!” Jazz buzzing with excitement at her fourth win in a row, loudly celebrating. Danny looked crushed with defeat as he flopped onto his back, his cards going every where with a dramatic groan. “I told you she was using mind tricks!” Damian slamming his cards down, pointing at Jazz. “Ugh! Who the fuck's idea was it to play stack?” Jason tossing his cards, grumbling. “Your's,” Tim groaned folding over his knees tossing his hand in the middle. He then pointed at Danny, “And Danny's.” “Guess the odds weren't stack in your favor-” Dick chuckled as Jason flicked the rest of the deck at him. Cass was also laying down in disbelief. “I owe my win to my precious little brother~” Jazz chuckled. Danny blew a razzberry in response. “Pllbbbbbrtttt...” “We need to keep real cards in here.” “Yes Jay, we'll stock the batplane with different card games.” Dick standing up with a stretch. “Not until you pick up the mess you made.” Batman's dad mode kicking in. “Fuck you.” Jason and the others picking it up anyways, more so Alfred doesn't get on to them. Dick stretched as he walked over to stand beside Bruce, seeing how far they were. He had a feeling it was close. Leaning on B's chair. “We'll be landing soon.” “We'll have to get the batmobile tomorrow, I left it at the other hideout.” Dick stated, though knowing it was obvious. “Nn.” Batman grunted with a nod.

“Hey. Danny, Jazz. We're flying over Gotham, now.” Dick turned back to the Fenton siblings. They both shoving at each other.. Mostly Danny shoving his sister away as he helped pick up cards. Jazz teasing him. They both paused looking up at Dick, who was pointing at the glass, gesturing for them to come near. Danny handed Jason the cards he picked up, as he and his sister walked over to the windows. “Ooo Its pretty dark for a big city, even with all the lights.” Jazz chime, barely leaning towards the glass. “That's because of the buildings, most of them have gothic architecture or are old. Which makes the tops of the buildings stay pretty dark. Really helpful for traveling at night.” Dick explained pointing out some buildings. “Man, can't wait to get a better view.” Danny was itching to go for a flight. “That'll have to wait until we make certain the GIW is out of the area. They're currently popping up every city trying to locate the ecto-batteries.” Batman stated. Danny frowned, shoulders slumped in disappointment, “I hate those guys.” “I say in about a week it be safe,” Dick ruffling Danny's head. “Even if not, one sneaky flight shouldn't hurt by then.. right B?” “nn.” “Oh, Danny. I think they have an observatory in the museum here.” Jazz pointing to the glass domed building. Danny peaking back out, eyes glowing a bright blue against the glass. “Ooo really? We have to go there.” Jazz nodded with a smile. “There's a good place for burgers near by it too.” Jason stated, propping an arm onto Danny's head. Deck of cards tucked in its box in his hand. “Cass and Steph like going to the shopping center for smoothies.” Tim stated, as Cass nodded with a thumbs up. She was craving one now. “There is a quite high number of swords available in the local pawn shops as well.” Damian stated. “Ooo, I would like a sword. Oh! Oh! Maybe I can ice one myself-” “Danny, I'd feel better if you did not. We have enough weapons in the house.” Jazz crossing her arms. “But we don't have a sword.” Danny pointed out. “............We have the ghost carving knife.” Jazz paused for a moment trying to re-categorize all the known weapons her parents had made or discarded into the vault. “Not the same-plus I gave it to Skulker.” “Why did you give Skulker, the ghost that wants to and I quote “Mount your pelt on my wall” a knife that CARVES ghost?!” Jazz swore her brother had a death wish sometimes. All the bats blinking, making sure they heard that right. Batman frowning, keeping a mental note of that. “That does sound rather idiotic.” Damian stated. “... I had to do something to make sure he doesn't attack Amity or us while we went on vacation!” “What other deals have you not told me about!?” “........Its best that you don't to know.” “Danny!” Jazz groaned in frustration. “I made loopholes! Well Tuck made loopholes..” Jazz massaged her temples trying not to let it get to her. That was something to deal with later. Future Jazz can give Danny a lecture of why giving an enemy a knife to cut you is a bad idea. The fact that she has to was astounding. “Well, hopefully we will be equipped to fight them so that we can be the loophole.” Dick winked. “Or I can just punch him.” “He's a ghost in a robotic suit.” Danny explained to Jason. “So hacking?” Tim hummed. “That can work, but its much easier just to get him to brag about his new weapon and knock off his head. Then stuff him in the thermos.” “That sounds simple enough.” Majority of the bats said in unison. Cassandra nodding. “Another ghost Vlad hires though. Vlad bribes him with upgrades.” Danny waved the information off. Glancing back to the window as they were leaving the city, as neighborhoods started to space out into a mass of trees. “We'll have to figure out a way to deal with him.” Batman stated, still planning on trying to find something he can get Vlad jailed for. “Good luck.” Danny sighed, having little hope of ever being free of Vlad. He started to see large fancy homes, making him furrow his brows. They were spaced out by the mass of trees. “Nn.” Batman grunted with a nod and then told everyone. “Now, everyone take a seat, we're preparing to land.” The batkids groaned as everyone piled into seats. “Seat belts too. That includes you, Jason.” Jason grumbling as he buckled Damian and Danny together. Much to Damian's aggravation. Jazz was buckled up with Cass, partially in each others laps. They had to be squished with the others to get enough seats with belts. They still needed to upgrade this plane to add more seating and belts. Another thing added to the list. The rest buckled up in their seats while Batman prepared for landing. He flicked a few switches and eased the plane into the opening of a secret hanger. Once the plane was parked, everyone hopped out of it. Damian was first with Danny joking behind him. “I knew my breath stunk, but I didn't think that bad.” “It smells a bit like death.” Jason joked, making Danny laugh. “I knew I was always rotten from the inside.” “Gravely, we need to put this convo to rest.” Dick grinned gesturing to the cave. “Welcome to the batcave.” “Gloomy.” Danny and Jazz said at the same time, after looking around as they were lead down into the cave. Batman frowned a little at how unimpressed Danny and Jazz were. He really need to look at the Fenton's lab. It couldn't be that interesting.. it was a basement lab. Dick chuckled as the others snickered at their reaction, mostly knowing B probably was deflated by it. “I mean its nice.. just why a-wait no a cave makes sense. Um. Is that a dinosaur?” Jazz pointed as they were able to see the other room. “I'm more interested in that giant penny. Like, why anyone want to make that? Is it real? Like real copper.”Danny pointed. “The dinosaur is part of our security system-” “Dami..” “I'm going to be sadly disappointed if that was a lie.” Danny frowned. “The dinosaur is not part of the security system.-” Batman began to explain. “Shame. It would have been pretty prehistoric!” Dick slapped a hand to his mouth laughing. Batman grunted, before continuing what he was saying. “And yes, the penny is made of copper. We polish it to keep it from oxidizing.” “Ah, that makes cents.” Danny grinned as Dick patted his shoulder. “Its really WORTH keeping around.” Dick grinned cheesily. “Great, there's two of them.” Damian and Jazz said in unison. “You should be happy about that, Demon Brat.” Jason teased flicking Damian's cheek. “If they keep making awful word play, then I will not.” Damian glared, smacking Jason away. “Aw, he's admitting that he is.” Tim joined, then jumped back as Damian threatened to pull out his sword. Cass chuckling as she put a hand over Damian's making him back down. “Bout time you guys showed up.” Steph chimed in her spoiler costume. Cass running down and jumping on her to give her a hug. “Traitor!”Steph called her, frowning, but as Cass looked at her in the face Steph smiled. “Aw, I can't stay mad at you~ Not like I was anyways.” Stephanie hugging Cass back, with a tight squeeze. Happy they made it back. She was getting worried when they all lost contact for a while. “Hey, No hug for me?” Duke asked arms open, before letting out an “oof!” as Cass hugged him. He chuckled giving her a firm hug back. “Oh looks like I spy some new kiddos~” Steph cooed looking directly at Danny and Jazz. Danny and Jazz awkwardly glanced at each other and back at Steph. Batman put a gentle hand on their shoulders, “They'll be staying with us for some time.” “Shocker.” Steph chuckled. “Where's Babs?” Dick asked as he and the others started to take off her masks. “She went to have dinner with her Dad, apparently some government agents wearing white suits have been hounding the police department for answers. Gordon hadn't been able to leave his office for over twelve hours.” Steph explained with a sigh, shaking her head. “You think they realize they're not going to get any information if the police can't leave to investigate.” Danny and Jazz frowned, as they gently took Bruce's hand off their shoulders. “He just now got them to leave the department, having to catch up on work. So Babs taking him some food Alfred made.” Duke continued, “She's planning on planting bugs.” “Excellent. I'll have to call Commissioner Gordon tomorrow,” Batman stated, as he took off his cowl. “I'll hack the security cameras across the city.” Tim stated, “At least one of them has to reveal something.” “I can see what information I can get from the small criminals. Little motivation will loosen someones tongue.” Jason cracked his knuckles. “What if they mistake you for a ghost?” Tim asked, “We already know you share similarities to ghost.” “Then I beat the shit out of them and blow up their base.” “Me and Baby bird can handle the criminals, besides Jay-bird, someone needs to watch the kiddos and B.” Dick nudged Jason who pushed him back. “I'm not babysitting Bruce.” “Me and Cass can do the east side.” Steph offered as Cass nodded with. Jazz and Danny felt a bit awkward watching them. Both feeling quite out of their element. Danny especially as this level of planning to stalk the GIW seemed ridiculous. “Why are you planning this hard just to spy on GIW?” Danny's tongue slipping. “They're an unknown government agency that has been harassing not only Gotham but other cities. Its imperative that we find all we can about them while they insist on staying.” Bruce explained. “Okaaayyy, And.. am I suppose to know.. who any of you are? Because I don't and its kind of rude not to introduce yourselves.” Danny pointed out to how all the members besides Damian had their masks off. Jazz's eyes widen as the rest of the batfamily go silent for a moment, making Danny feel very uncomfortable. Was he not suppose to ask that? Seem kind of weird- “OH SHIT! We forgot to tell him!” “Oh my god, Danny! I'm so sorry!” Jazz blurted, “I figured out their identities mid-mission and it just slipped my mi-” “Wait.. WHAT?! Wait.. THAT'S WHAT YOU FIGURED OUT?!” Danny glanced between them all. Each of the batfamily held a different expression, but all felt mortified. How did they forget. Except for Stephanie who burst out laughing. She couldn't believe.. they forgot. Duke was holding back a laugh that was contagious from Stephanie, but had a hand over his mouth, hiding a grin. Danny's mind was going a mile a second as it retraced every step and event that happen since the night began. He was still so confused until his eyes popped open, glancing at Bruce and then towards Dick. He narrowed his eyes then widened them again. “OH, OHHHHHHHH! That's why you said... Its THAT Dick?” Danny began to grin, and then bust out laughing, as his sister had a look of horror on her face. Dick feeling eyes of his siblings on him as he hated what this meant. “The same one you-” “NO! No it is not!” “IT IS!” Danny was stomping his foot as he laughed. “Danny, I swear if you say one word I'll... I'll-!” Jazz was struggling with her threat thinking quickly, face bright red. “Uh-huh. That you had a-” Danny paused as Jazz covered Danny's mouth with her hand and whispered into his ear. The bats only could read the word Halloween. Danny's eyes popped open, then his brows furrowed. “You wouldn't.” “As long as you don't mention that.. era of my life.” Jazz smiled falsely sweet. “Awwww come on Jazz! This is like the only time I've ever got something good on you!” “Poor you. Doth does sucketh to be the youngest.” Danny grumbled crossing his arms, as Jazz looked relieved. Jason snickering as he elbowed Dick, “At this rate the whole Dick Grayson Fan club will find out our identities.” Jazz's face dropped going red again, Tim just glancing away. Danny grinned, looking at Jazz, who was giving him a warning stare. After an awkward moment, Bruce cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. “Well, it seems introductions are in order. I am Bruce Wayne.” “Stephanie Brown, but call me Steph.” Stephanie said with a wave. “Cass.” Cassandra smiled at them. “Well, you know my name already,” Dick chuckled. “Tim Drake.” Tim held his hand up. “Duke Thomas. Nice to meet you.” Duke raising his hand up for a brief moment too. “Jason. Though I'm quit upset you knew Dick before me!” “Batman-Bruce? Didn't call me Jason.” Danny chuckled. “Damian Wayne.” Damian keeping a proper pose. “And I am Alfred Pennyworth, Butler of Wayne Manor. Its a pleasure to meet you, Miss Jasmine, and Mister Daniel.” An older gentleman stood near a staircase, smiling at them. His eyes scanned across the room over everyone. “Welcome home.” “Dinner is ready in the dining hall. I couldn't find any allergen listed, so I do hope you enjoy what I've prepared.” “As long as it doesn't attack me, I'm down for anything.” Danny chuckled as his stomach growled. He was starving. “Same.” Jazz couldn't wait to eat, shower, and sleep. “Well, I can assure you that our food is on the pacifist side.” Alfred smiled, though holding a concern look in his eye. “Follow me then. I have also prepared rooms for your stay. I can show you after dinner. I'm certain you two must be exhausted.” “Definitely, Thank you so much, Mr. Pennyworth.” Jasmine smiled as her and Danny eagerly followed the butler. The sound of food very alluring. “Yeah, thanks!”Danny echoed. --------->w<------------ “Soooo who won the bet?” Tim asked as they walked behind the siblings to the dining hall. “Because Danny has green eyes half of the time.” “I'm actually famished! Let's figure that out after … dinner.” Steph chuckled nervously. “She made some more bets while you guys were gone, and none of them came true.” Duke grinned. “You don't know that! The custody battle might still be a thing!” Stephanie huffed. “Ok, exclude all the bets made that can't be known today, who won.” Tim asked. Steph sighed, “I bet that the kids had black hair and blue eyes.” “Only one was true. So that's 20 points, but 40 in the pool.” Tim counted. “Also made a bet at least one of you would be punched by them. Which was 10.” “Yeah, that didn't happen so 50 pool.” Jason stated. “She also bet Damian would have brought a ghost animal home.” Duke stated. “I would have, if given the time. But Bullwinkle seemed quite adamant in staying.”Damian grumbled. “Yeah, I'm going to miss the big guy.” Jason mentioned. “How much she bet on that?” Tim asked. Stephanie slouched her shoulders, “...............50 and I do the winners chores.” “I bet 50 that he wouldn't.” Duke grinned. “And winners chores.” “Well, you said no way B would let him take it home.” “Yeah, but my bet was that he wouldn't.” “So Steph has 100 in the pool, plus winners chores. Only 20 points?” Tim made sure. “Yeah. Duke got 50, exempt from doing chores, because he was right. He also bet Danny was a meta, which Babs betrayed me and agreed. >:T So like, 70 points and 170 in the pool?” Steph calculated. “I bet 30 that one of them likes puns!” Dick grinned. “And 40 with your music rights they didn't have sad backstories.” Jason whispering last part. He was happy that Dick's music rights was taken away. At least for a week. “So Dickie got 30 points and 70 in the pool. Which makes it 240.” “Cass got a 100 points for betting they're self-taught and Jazz had red hair. So that brings it to 340.” Steph stated. “Highest.” Cass smiled. “I don't think anyone else got that high, Dami only bet 10 reluctantly.” Dick said. “And I think he was the most impressed out of us.” Tim smirked. “Certainly of Jazz.” “....They were not as inferior as I predicted. Daniel could use some work on sharpening the ice and Jasmine was louder than need be.” Damian huffed. Jason ruffled Damian's hair, as Damian tried to smack his hand off. “So pool up to 350. So what we do about Walking Advertisement's bet?” Tim frowned as Jason pointing at him. Dick scratched his head, “Well Danny's eyes do glow green, especially when in his second form. So maybe half points?” “Wouldn't that have made Steph's half points?” Tim asked. “Hmm, No because he had blue eyes before. So majority of his life they were blue.” Dick hummed. “But wouldn't that just suggest Tim's bet was wrong by them rules.” Steph asked... mostly just hoping to bring Tim down with her. They all hummed, trying to think. “This is dumb.” Damian frowned. “Why don't we give both Tim and Steph the full points then?” Duke asked. “That would give Tim 60 points and bring the pool to 410.” Dick stated. “No! That pull ahead of me! Ugh.” Jason huffed. “Oh right because you only got 50 that he can fight good.” Dick stated. “Yeah, because Danny and Jazz doesn't seem to hate Bruce so that puts 70 and a cooked meal into the pool, bringing it to 480.” Tim calculated, “That was everything right?” The others all nodded, as they recount to make check. “Oh Danny did bet 20 Vlad had master bedroom on the top floor.” Steph pointed out. “Hey! I didn't know I was being brought into this. I would have bet on something a lot cooler.” Danny hollered back. “Don't worry, we won't make you pay this time. Just a warning, we take bets very seriously~” Steph said playfully. “Yeah, I can tell.” “That means Cass won $480 dollars and steph has to do her chores, Jason has to cook her a meal-” “Eh, I don't mind cooking for Cass.” Jason sighed, but perked up as he continued what Tim stated, “Annnnd Dickie can't touch the radio.” Cass bounced, with a little dance as the others make disappointed sighs. Jazz and Danny glancing back at them then chuckled, this was certainly going to be an experience. Both feeling anxious, but the normalcy of it all was easing their nerves. Even if it was just slightly. This might be the strangest vacation they've ever been on.

#vacation crashers #danny phantom #danny fenton #jazz fenton #batman #dp x dc #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #tim drake #stephanie brown #duke thomas #cassandra cain #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #batfam #batfamily #fanfic #thank you all for reading ;w; I can't believe I finished this~

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Omg can I please get a hannibal x a shy girl reader ? Like he’s really possessive of her and she doesn’t know how to handle it but she likes him so they date??

Sorry this took so long, anon. I’ve been bouncing ideas around and this one in particular, I believe, fits your request. Y/n feels out of place among Hannibal’s fancy friends and it becomes even more obvious when he abandons her at a party. 

Trigger warnings: social anxiety, sexual harassment, overstimulation

You and Hannibal had an agreement about large gatherings. He could only bring you to a party if you had a week's notice and at least three uninterrupted hours of gaming time prior to the event.

For this event, you needed a solid six.

One of the major Maryland universities was awarding a lucrative research grant to a student of clinical psychology, and every influential name in the industry was expected to be there. As a recent college grad with a bachelor's in business you didn't know what to do with, you couldn't imagine a less welcoming environment if you tried. You couldn't fit into their world and more importantly, you didn't want to. But the thought of being noticeably different in any situation was twice as terrifying. So you spent the whole week repeating your mantra; blend in, be quiet and make it through the night.

But Hannibal had different plans for you.

Halfway through the week, just when you'd pushed the party out of your mind, Hannibal presented you with a gift.

"What's the occasion?" You asked. You hoped that if you pretended not to know, it would just magically go away.

"I brought you something to wear on Friday." Hannibal answered, hanging the garment bag up on the bureau. "You know I'll take any excuse to dress you up."

He unzipped the bag and placed a black silk dress into your arms. "Try it on so I have time to get it altered if it needs it."

The material was cool to the touch and outlined your figure so perfectly, you felt even a little naked. Hannibal, of course, loved this. You were his own personal Venus de Milo. His goddess and his muse. 

“Yes, that will do nicely.” He observed, looking at you hungrily. 

“Seems a little short for a such a sophisticated event, doesn’t it?” You raised an eyebrow. The answer was yes and he knew it. He was very deliberate in everything he did. “I don’t want to come off the wrong way.” 

“And what way would that be, darling?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your figure. 

“I mean--” You searched for the right words. “It’s a gathering of the Mid-Atlantic’s most esteemed academics, I feel like, in a dress like this, I might be seen as, well, a...” 

“A prostitute?” Hannibal finished, choosing a much nicer word than you would have.

You looked down. “Yeah. It just doesn’t seem all that appropriate.” 

Hannibal approached you and lifted your chin slightly to look into his eyes. “Many Christian denominations believe that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, yet she was Christ’s right-hand woman. She was first to see him crucified and first to witness his resurrection.” 

“Dr. Lecter,” You smirked. “I never would have taken you for a religious man.” 

“Goodness, no.” He shook his head. “But any reputable academic is expected to be familiar with biblical literature and its many contradictions and impossibilities.” 

“What does that have to do with me?”

“You are my divine feminine, Miss [L/N].” Hannibal said in a low whisper. “And I want everyone to see it. If they see a common whore, it would only be a reflection of their own jealousy.” 

Hannibal's rationalization almost made you forget about your fear of being noticed. Almost. It all came rushing back when you arrived at the event. Not one person your age was in attendance. The women wore long, flowing evening gowns that reached the floor. The length of your skirt alone guaranteed that all eyes were on you. In a simple black silk dress, you looked the very model of high society. Silk was a sign of luxury, and Hannibal wanted everyone to know that you were a woman of means. His woman, to be precise. That was why he brought you to these functions in the first place. To put you in a dress short enough for any wandering eyes so see the smattering of love bites running up your inner thighs. He wanted everyone in his field to know that you were completely and entirely his.

You realized too late that this was all his little exercise in showing you off.

Everyone seemed to know him. He only knew a handful of people by name, and you didn't know anyone.

"And who is this delightful young woman?" A woman with a light southern twang in her voice asked, looking at you as if you were a caged animal on display.

"I wasn't aware you had a daughter, Dr. Lecter." The young man beside her laughed. "Or is she your side piece?"

Your eyes scanned the room for the nearest exit. It would be unbecoming to make a scene, so you plotted a way to slip out quietly.

“Darling, meet Dr. Charlotte Ramset and her TA, David.” Hannibal introduced, notably ignoring the young man. “Dr. Ramset, this is my intended, [F/N] [L/N].”

"I didn't realize she was also a ventriloquist!" The lady, presumably Dr. Ramset, joked. You'd heard that one a million times. She looked at you. "Tell me about yourself, sweetie. What are you studying?"

The lady was old enough to be your grandmother and reeked of too much perfume.

"I graduated last year." You said, quietly. "With a BA in business."

"See, there's a good woman." David added. "Only speaks when spoken to. They don't make ’em like you anymore, baby."

Hannibal tightened his grip on your hand. "On the contrary, David. See, Miss [L/N] is quite a bit like myself. She only dignifies those she deems worthy with a response. There's nothing wrong with being selective."

The lady laughed at David's expense and smiled at you. "Good for you."

You smiled back just a little, not ready to bring your guard down yet. "I've had to deal with more than enough. It's best not to engage."

"Oh, I know, I know." The lady said, shaking her head. "That's how it is for us educated gals. Always having to put up with pigs. See, I went to college in the sixties, so I can tell you some real stories."

This was a new experience. Talking to Hannibal's friends and having them listen to you was something you never considered possible. Now, you were one of the educated gals. You were just about to strike up a conversation with this woman, when the man next to her decided someone desperately needed to play devil’s advocate.

“I find that sexist, actually.” He cut in. “Not all men are pigs.” 

The silence following his comment was deafening and you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Whatever progress Hannibal and Dr. Ramset made breaking down your defenses was completely reversed and you were ready to retreat.

Dr. Ramset took a long sip of wine and adjusted her shawl. “David, none of us said anything about men, you drew that conclusion yourself.”

“I mean, look at you.” David gestured to your dress. You knew exactly where this was going and you wished you could just disappear. “You’re basically asking for it.” 

Dr. Ramset glared at him. “David, that’s enough.” 

“I’m just stating facts.” David crossed his arms. “If you dress like a slut, what do you expect?”

Dr. Ramset and Hannibal seemed to have an entire conversation through prolonged eye contact before one of them broke the silence. 

"Charlotte, I hate to have to excuse myself so soon, but the president of the university is expecting me." Hannibal said, dropping your hand. Your heart hit the floor when you realized that he would be throwing you to the wolves.

"Of course, Dr. Lecter." She nodded. "Duty calls."

"I trust you'll keep an eye on my beloved [F/N] in my absence?" His voice hardened. The severity in his tone frightened you.

Dr. Ramset didn't seem disturbed or even surprised in the slightest by his gently threatening demand. "Of course."

"Thank you. And [F/N]?" He said, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. "I won't be going far. Please, try to have fun."

You tried not to look affronted, but you were going to have a long talk with Hannibal when you got home. 

"I'm just saying what everyone is thinking." David continued, his inability to take a hint positively astounding. "Why don't you respect yourself enough to cover up, [F/N]? You have a boyfriend!"

Your eyes scrolled across the room looking for any sign of Hannibal, but he was gone. Dr. Ramset finished her wine and stared at her TA with the resigned disgust of a death row jailer.

"Any other thoughts?" She said, snatching a fresh glass of wine. You looked at her with a clear expression of discomfort.

"Come on, do you see any other woman in the room dressed so provocatively?" David's voice broke mid-sentence. "No. Because they're educated enough to know that real men don't care about their bodies."

The hotel clerk approached the group. "Mr. Hosmer, there's a call for you."

David narrowed his eyes. "Uh, what?"

"Someone is on the phone asking for you." The clerk repeated. "Says it's an emergency."

David shrugged. "Fine."

Just when you thought you would be rid of him, at least for a moment, he planted his hands on your hips in attempt to "get by" you. His touch was like that of an insect crawling across your skin; unexpected, filthy and leaving you squeamish.

"I'm so sorry about that." Dr. Ramset's words echoed in your ears, but you didn't really hear them. You were too focused on grounding yourself to process what she was saying. 

“Dr. Ramset?” You said, quietly. “Which one is the president of the university?” 

She glanced at a tall woman in a dark blue suit, surrounded by equally important looking businesspeople. You followed her eyes. “That’s Dr. Mary Hosmer.”

Your ounce of righteous fury was squelched in two seconds when the reality of having to talk to someone, especially someone of stature, set in. You looked sheepishly back at Dr. Ramset. 

“Could you please ask her where Hannibal went?” You whispered. “I’d really like him to take me home now.” 

Her face turned sympathetic. “Of course, [F/N]. Stay right there.” 

You nodded. “Thank you.” 

Dr. Ramset crossed the floor and politely greeted the president. You took a few slow, calculated steps closer, just to get in earshot.

“Pardon me, but, have you seen Dr. Hannibal Lecter?” Dr. Ramset said, casually. 

“I wasn’t aware Hannibal had even arrived yet.” The president answered. “I haven’t seen him.” 

Your eyes widened. You fought the urge to freeze, but you had to move back before Dr. Ramset knew you’d been eavesdropping. You heard everything you needed and rushed back to where she’d left you.

“Dr. Hosmer said he stepped out.” She told you upon her return. “He should be back soon.” 

You tried not to show that you knew she was lying. “...oh.” 

“Would you like me to stay with you until he comes back?” 

You knew you were completely on your own. You didn’t know what was going on, but you had an inkling that it had to do with the president and David sharing a last name. All you knew for certain was that you couldn’t trust anybody. 

“Don’t bother.” You shook your head. You took off for the door, but Dr. Ramset grabbed your wrist. 

“I’m sorry, [F/N].” Her voice dropped to a low whisper. She didn’t look mad, but afraid. “But Dr. Lecter told me to stay with you. Please. Don’t make this harder for me.”

You recalled how seriously threatening Hannibal’s request was. She wasn’t answering to the president of the university. She was answering to Hannibal. You didn’t know whether to be scared or relieved. 

“Right.” You conceded, stepping back in. “I’m sorry.” 

The actual award ceremony was much longer than it needed to be, and it dragged on even longer knowing there was no reason for you to be there. Other than that, you awkwardly followed Dr. Ramset around the party like a lost puppy the whole time. You were back to your original plan: blend in, be quiet and make it through the night. 

Just when you thought the party would never end, someone tapped you on the arm. You turned around, hoping with every fiber of your being that it was Hannibal, but it wasn’t. A tall woman in a dark blue suit stared back at you. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, miss.” She said, apologetically. “But have you seen my son? I saw him talking to you and Dr. Charlotte earlier, perhaps he told you where he was going?” 

You’d pushed that man completely out of your mind. You shook your head. “He left to take a phone call and I haven’t seen him since.” 

A hand found your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Hosmer, but I believe I saw the boy on his phone out in the lobby.” 

“Dr. Lecter!” The president’s eyes widened. “How nice of you to finally join us.” 

“...Yes, I believe he left right after making unwarranted comments towards my intended here.” Hannibal ran his hand down your arm lovingly. 

“Well, boys will be boys.” The president chuckled. “Maybe you should teach your girlfriend not to wear such revealing clothes.” 

Hannibal smiled and pulled you in protectively. “Whatever the case, I hope you find him very soon.” 

Her phone chimed in her back pocket. “Oh, that’s him right now.” 

“Wonderful.” Hannibal said. “[F/N] and I will be taking our leave.” 

He hurried you towards the door, his hand tight around yours. A blood-curdling scream came from behind you. You looked back for just a moment and found the president hollering in pain and falling to her knees. 

“Let’s go, darling.” Hannibal tugged at your arm. “They don’t deserve your presence.” 

“Hannibal, I swear.” You said, once you were in the safety of the car. “If you killed every man who looked at me like a piece of meat, sooner or later, there won’t be any men left.” 

Hannibal smirked and reached for his seatbelt. “Wonderful.” 

#hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #anon ask #anon request

[sheloooveswomen]

not so quiet in the library - ellie staple x reader

masterlist

summary: in a library?! y’all are wild. don’t worry no one is there (this isn’t to lure you into a false sense of security, genuinely no one is there). ellie is a psychology professor at your university. you are her TA (teachers assistant) and girlfriend.

includes: ellie x fem!reader, thoughts are italicized, all in reader’s POV.

warnings: nsfw. public sex. short smut because i am not good at it.

inspired by a scene from the movie Bloomington

944 words

Y/N POV//

"Really good." Ellie switches between scrolling and reading my essay till she reaches the end, "It's a good start. Take a look at the last paragraph, though, it needs some clarity."

"Alrighty" I take my laptop back, reading over the section she mentioned.

We return to our own work for a bit. Seated at a small table lit by a hanging lamp, all the way in the back of the university library. Hidden by rows and rows of ceiling-high bookshelves. We’ve been here for almost two hours. 

This woman loves to work.

Bored of writing, my attention shifts to Ellie. Elizabeth. Professor Elizabeth Staple. Dr Elizabeth Staple. Mine. 

Dreamy sigh, turtlenecks have never been so hot.

"Hey, Ellie?"

She replies after a brief pause, "Hm?" clearly not paying attention.

"Dr.Staple?" I call in a nasally, high pitched voice.

Her head perks up and she activates her professor voice, "Yes?" Ellie rolls her eyes and returns to a relaxed posture when she realizes it's only me, “You’re a regular comedian, you know that?”

"What's your article gonna be about?" I laugh.

She smiles to herself, almost shyly, "Boring stuff."

"What kind of boring stuff?"

"The abnormal psyche kind." she scribbles in her notepad some more- preferring to have her notes the ‘old fashioned’ way.

"Please elaborate" I prompt, procrastinating my own work of course.

She furrows her brow as she continues to read.

"Elizabeth?"

She takes a long inhale, buying time to find words, "It's based on the theory of the reversal of self denial."

"I've never heard of that."

"Well you know what denial is right?" she arches a brow.

I narrow my eyes at her.

Ellie fights a smirk but ends up letting out the laugh I love, "Okay well it's like if you deny yourself something for long enough, for whatever self-imposed reason, then the moment you're faced with any real external imposition you're gonna involuntarily want to do the thing that you were trying so hard not to do."

"Did you just make that up?"

"No." she laughs, scooting her chair back and tapping the edge of the table, "Have a seat here"

"Why?"

She crosses her legs and rests her folded hands on her knee, "Because I'm going to demonstrate the theory."

"Alright..." I move her notebooks back a bit to make room for me to sit. 

"Now, you know how you're often quiet when we have sex?"

My eyes widen for split second as I look around for any potential onlookers only to find we’re still the only ones here because no one in their right mind would be here this late. 

But here I am. Guess I’m just that whipped, "Is that a problem?" I ask as she stands between my legs.

She tugs me a little closer so I’m halfway off edge, "No...I just wondered why, is all. So I figure if you're so darn quiet when you don't have to be" she tucks my hair behind my ear, "let's see how quiet you can be when you absolutely have to. "

I grab her hands when they go to unbutton my pants, "Are you crazy?" I whisper-yell.

"Ah ah ah, hold onto the table" smiling, Ellie positions my hands to hold the edge, "trust me, baby, you're gonna need it." I look down to watch her hand make its way into my pants to palm my center through my underwear, "Don't forget to breathe" she whispers, lips grazing my neck.

A shaky exhale leaves my lips when her fingers move past the waistband of my underwear and brush my clit.

"Good girl" she teasingly kisses the corner of my agape mouth.

My grip on the table increases as she places open mouth kisses along my neck.

She starts making languid circles with her middle and ring finger, "I'd be lying if I said I haven't thought of doing this before, well, more so bending you over and fucking you on my desk. Or laying you on your back...having you spread out and needy for me in my office. I'm no exhibitionist but claiming you in front of everyone, showing them how you're such a good little slut for me has crossed my mind once or twice during class." 

My head falls forward to rest on her shoulder and I surprisingly let out a muffled groan.

Her velvety voice meets my ear, having dropped an octave, "Does that feel good?" and I can tell she has a smug smile on her face.

My response is cut off by one of her fingers entering me, "Ellie-" I bite my lip to quiet myself.

"Shhh, I know, baby." she brings her mouth to mine and uses her tongue to ease it open, then a second finger starts thrusting into me.

“Fuck-”

She swallows my moan with another kiss, “There you go, pretty girl.”

With the combination of sweet yet dirty nothings in my ear, lips and teeth on my neck, and a 'come here' motion of her fingers and tight circular motions with her thumb, my eyes screw shut and a final moan leaves my throat, "Ellie"

My eyes shoot open and meet hers as she rests her forehead against mine, easing me through my climax, "Give it to me, baby." She slows her motions as my trembling passes. Maintaining eye contact she sucks her fingers and releases them with a pop, "Mmm...theory confirmed. Though I can't exactly use this as an example."

Still shocked, I remain in the same position. Meanwhile she pecks my forehead, buttons my pants, sits in my seat, and goes right back to researching for her paper.

I have never loved psychology so much.

#sarah paulson #glass 2019 #dr ellie staple #ellie staple #x reader

[kiyelle]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TŌRU <3 (some fluff for the prettiest boy ever)

*.⋆ʚ TIARAS AND WISHES

“iwa-chan, tell y/n i’m no longer talking to them!”

In his fit of despair oikawa rolls away from where he once laid next to you on his living room floor. Pouting, he reaches for iwaizumi’s arm and buries his face into the boy’s sleeve. Hajime can only look down at where his best friend latches onto him with slight annoyance. He knows he can’t push him off or he’ll be met with complaints that ‘it’s my birthday you HAVE to be nice to me’

“uh-huh what did they do now?” Before he can respond, you jump to your defence, shuffling over to the two boys and lightly shaking oikawa by the shoulders. “it was an accident! i already said that i’m sorry you idiot!” The boy hastily removes himself from his oldest friend and pushes you away in turn.

“YOU BROKE MY BIRTHDAY PRINCESS TIARA!” “WELL ITS NOT MY FAULT YOU LEFT IT ON THE FLOOR!”

Tōru knows that you’re right. The main reason his sparkly plastic tiara, with pink diamante spelling out ‘birthday princess’, now exists as two broken pieces, is because he had left it on the floor. But dammit! It’s his birthday and he’s not going to be to blame for this!

This whole morning he had been prancing around his house, the bejewelled plastic sitting prettily upon his waves of brown hair. Only for it to be forgotten in the cluster of pillows and blankets that adorn the space in front of the tv. He was too enthralled by the same movie he’s watched every single year on his birthday without fail. Too absorbed by the galaxies and the stars that paint the scenes of zathura.

Oikawa jumps up to his feet choosing not so slyly to ignore the argument he’d inevitably lose, something that seems to happen a lot to him against his two best friends. “whatever you say y/n-chan, you can just make it up to me with cake.”

You playfully glare at him before nodding to iwa, “haji can you help me?” “no it's fine, you stay here and entertain the child, i'll go get it ready,” with those final words he leaves in pursuit of the kitchen. Awaiting his return, you clear some space on the small coffee table. Pulling tōru towards you so you’re both sat on your knees at the table, just like you’ve done since you were children.

Finally, dimming the lights, the room falls into a familiar darkness as hajime enters with a cake in his hands. The soft glow of the candles illuminate his childish grin as he says, “happy birthday shitty-kawa” and places the dessert in front of the birthday boy himself.

In careful turquoise icing, the cake reads ‘happy birthday to the greatest setter ever!’ “awh you guys shouldn’t have!” he coos, holding a hand over his heart. “we didn’t, you decorated the cake yourse-” “SHH! i knew you guys thought i’m amazing!” he sighs, smiling to himself contently.

“anyways be quiet, i’m going to make my wish,” he closes his eyes, his features swimming in concentration as he recites the carefully chosen words in his head. After a few moments he blows the candles out in one go and turns to you both.

“i wished that us three won’t be best friends for the rest of our lives,” he announces with a proud smile. You and hajime just share a confused look because, what in the world? did this dude hate us this whole time? “oi stupid! you’re not supposed to tell us your wish or it won’t come true.”

“duh!” The setter rolls his eyes as if it were obvious, “it’s called reverse psychology my dear y/n-chan, now the universe has no choice BUT to make sure you guys are with me forever,” oikawa finishes his little explanation, his gleeful eyes never once leave the cake.

There’s something about the small genuine smile on his face as he wishes for you three to remain close that tugs at your heart. It does nothing short of reminding you of something you’ve known almost your whole life, you love these boys.

Almost in a lovestruck trance your arms wrap around his neck and pull him flush against yourself, almost instantly his own arms find their way around your waist. He quietly mumbles that he loves you.

His face rests in the crook of your neck for a few seconds before he’s removing a single arm from around you, the other still holding tight, and turning towards the other boy in the room. “come on iwa-chan! can’t leave us hanging on my birthday!”

The darker haired boy will swear up and down that he had resisted this gross group hug, but he truly knows that he didn’t hesitate for a second before taking his rightful place in his and your arms. You giggle lightly as tōru kisses your cheek and ultimately gets shoved away when he tries to do the same to iwa.

No matter where life takes you all, you know you’ll have each other forever …happy birthday oikawa <3

MWAH! ଘ(ᵕ◡ᵕ)

#*.⋆ʚ☁️iove fluff #happy birthday to the loml! #oikawa x reader #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa tōru #oikawa fluff #oikawa toru x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!

[clairecrive]

“Voodoo doll” - Billy russo x reader

A/n: and here’s another one for Billy. I got the idea from a request I got for another character and I thought it perfectly fit Billy. As if Ben Barnes could ever be considered anything but beautiful, *scoff* please.

Warnings: a bit angsty, fluff though, jigsaw!billy, season 2 billy

Prompts(loosely): “Please don’t say that about yourself. Please don’t believe that. You’re so much more than that. You’re so…” 

(let me know if you want to be tagged to any of my writings)

“Oh, hi you’re up.” You let yourself inside Billy’s hospital room smiling when you saw that the back of his bed was pushed up. He was sitting instead of lying down and that usually meant that he was awake. 

“How are you feeling today? The nurse outside told me that she gave you something for the pain but that everything is healing nicely.” Billy recovery looked like it was going to be long but after the impossibly long surgery you were just happy to see him alive and breathing. He didn’t look like he shared your optimism though. Granted, he was bound on a hospital bed, his body probably ached him all over and above all, his face was completely covered in bandages. It was the part that had taken most of the hits and Billy was one lucky bastard to even be in a hospital bed instead of being underground. That’s what the doctors had told you, at least.

Still, you could see how hard it was for him to see this whole situation in a positive way. It was taking its toll on him and you knew that no matter how many bruises and broken bones he had, his psychological health was the one which was in the worst shape.

You tried to offer him all the support you could. Sometimes that meant cheering him up with jokes and terrible puns, others simply required you to be next to him. 

Seems like it was one of those days because Billy stayed silent.

“Billy?” you tried again, setting your bag on the ground and taking your usual place by the side of his bed.

“What are you doing here, y/n?” His voice was hoarse from how little he used it these days but hadn’t lost that gruff edge that you loved so much.

“Visiting his majesty of course.”

“You shouldn’t be here. It’s a waste of time anyway.”

“Waiting for the bus for 20 minutes before they tell you that the run has been cancelled, now that is what I call a waste of time.” You complained recalling what had happened that morning.

Since you had entered his room, Billy hadn’t moved. Not that he could manage any big movement given the restraints they had put on him but at least he could move his head. It had been laying on his pillow up until now. He lifted it to try and look you into your eyes.

“I’m not your Billy anymore.”

“Why? Has anyone made their claim on you? Is that what this awful smell is? Your new playmate’s piss?”

Billy made a noise, it sounded a halfway between a laugh or a sob but since his head was covered in bandages, you couldn’t really tell. You hoped for the first, Billy had always loved your sense of humour- he had told you it was one of the reasons why he had noticed you- even if it consisted of terrible jokes. You thought they were hilarious, Billy thought you were adorable. Whatever.

“Listen, I can see how hard you’re taking this whole reversed beauty and the beast plot. But just so you know, I’m willing to let my facial hair grow if that makes you feel like a princess again.” You added on a more serious note, kinda, hoping to convince him that his face wasn’t the only thing you loved about him.

This time, the sound that left him was most definitely a sob. Startled, you didn’t know what to do. 

Could he even cry? Wouldn’t it mess up with his bandages? Why was he crying though? 

Still unsure on how to go about this, you reached for one of his bound hands only to see that it was tightly close in a fist. Your hand wrapped around his anyway, hoping that this small contact could soothe him in some way. 

Fuck, you must be really worse at this than you thought. You were trying to make him laugh and here he was crying.

“Billy?” you tried again in a whisper. 

All jokes aside, something must have happened this morning to make him feel this on edge. Had someone been rude to him? Well, he was a wanted person of course people weren’t going to respond to him like they did before. Billy couldn’t even count on his charm and good looks and you knew how good he was at using them to get what he wanted. 

Wait, could that be the problem? 

You thought about the best way to word the question when Billy spoke again, saving you from the embarrassment.

“I don’t think this is going to work.” Uh, what? Oh no no, he doesn’t get to do that.

“I agree, I’m not a fan of facial hair myself. We could buy you a tiara though. That is definitely going to do the trick.” Completely refusing to acknowledge his words, you kept going along with your previous joke.

“I’m serious y/n.” He insisted, his voice straightening to highlight his intent but still to no avail. Still clueless to it, he had laid on a silver platter your next pun.

“I thought your name was Billy, not Sirius. Wicked name though.” His hand tensed in your hold and you knew that he was getting angry.

“Would you stop joking around for one second? I’m trying to tell you that you shouldn’t waste your time around me.” His voice grew rougher, not exactly the high and strict tone he used to use at Anvil, but you could see he had strained his vocal cord to even attempt a stern voice.

 “I’m going to look like a butchered voodoo doll, forget the beast.” He added in a quieter voice. A confession laced with guilt.

“Oh Billy, don’t say that. You’re so much more than your looks, you know that. Besides, I’m sure you’re still going to be the one with the dashing looks of the relationship.” Your voice came out all wobbly and squeaky but you couldn’t help it, hearing Billy’s words, a far cry from the man he used to be made you emotional. You wanted nothing more than to help him but you didn’t know how. And here he was, trying to push you away.

“There’s no relationship, y/n.”

“I know that you’ve taken a big hit on your head, the doctor told me about your memory loss. It’s okay, they told me that some things are going to come back and you remembered my name when you woke up so that’s a good sign.”

Billy contemplated the idea of making up a story about him not remembering about you and come up with someway for how he knew you name when he first saw you after the incident but even though he wanted you to see his point, he couldn’t do that to you. 

He did remember you and he knew that the first part of your relationship had been based on lies. About his work, about his past, about his whereabouts when you asked him where he was going to late at night. 

He also remembered how that almost had cost him your relationship entirely.

Billy wasn’t one to make promises but he had made one to you. To at least try to be open and honest with you. There were still things that Billy didn’t talk to you about but this time around, instead of coming up with an excuse, he openly said that he couldn’t tell where or what he was doing . That, in the long run, had gained your trust back. You knew it was for your safety and that every time he told you you couldn’t know something, it was work-related.

And despite the fact that Billy was trying to self sabotage himself and your relationship, there was a part of him that didn’t want to see you go.

Yes, he still thought that you deserved more. Not only for his looks but for the things he knew he had done but couldn’t remember. If half the things he was accused of were true, then that didn’t make him a good person, did it?

“I do remember you. There is nothing more vibrant in my mind than my time with you. That’s not the problem.”

“Then I wholeheartedly refuse your attempt at breaking up. You can say whatever you want but I assure you it isn’t going to work.”

“I wish I could say that I did not remember you being this stubborn but we both know it would be a lie.”

“Oh, honey we both know that you enjoy it quite a bit when you want to.” You wriggled your eyebrows, trying and completely failing at making a suggestive face. You were successful, however, in making him laugh.

“Fuck don’t do that y/n, I can’t laugh.” he groaned, his head resting back on his bed.

“Well that is going to be a problem, ‘cause all I’m good at is being a huge cosmic joke.” You smiled at him, happy that he was finally done with all that nonsense he had just tried to pull. Instead, you dived into your back to show him what you had brought him.

It was his favorite comic book.

Apparently, a successful CEO of a security firm had an extensive collection of comic books which was also his most priced possession. The first time he had come around after the surgery, he had asked about them. He was worried that in searching his place for clues and whatnot the police had ruined it or something. You couldn’t see his face but the long sigh he let out when you told him that you had taken care of it personally looked a lot like relief.

What were hundreds of expensive tailored suits in comparison?

You started reading one of his favorite ones, including a very poor but very engaging representation of every sound of action in the story which made Billy smile under all those bandages. He felt like the luckiest voodoo doll in the world.

#billy russo #billy russo imagine #billy russo imagines #billy russo x you #billy russo x reader #billy russo angst #billy russo fluff #marvel the punisher #the punisher #the punisher imagines #ben barnes #ben barnes imagines #ben barnes x reader

[teenwolffan-with-nolife]

The Witch and The Wolf Pt.60

Word Count: 4,072

Characters: Derek Hale, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Chris Argent, Kate Argent, Braeden, Jordan Parrish, Kira Yukimura, Liam Dunbar, Berserkers, Lydia Martin, Malia Hale, Peter Hale, Calaveras, Reader

Pairings: Derek Hale x Witch!Reader

Warnings: angst, death, fluff, i think that’s all

Masterlist     Series Masterlist

“As soon as I figure out what you’re planning, it’s over for you.”

You stood across from Peter, the two of you were upstairs in the loft, away from Derek’s hearing range.

“I’ve got nothing to hide, (Y/N),” he smirked.

“You’re working with Kate!” you exclaimed.

“Technically, I’m not. We had a mutual plan, working to shut down the Deadpool,” he crossed his arms while you rolled your eyes.

“How stupid do you think I am?” you scoffed.

“You know what? Screw this, I’ll just tell Derek that you're working with Kate,” you replied, taking a step back before he stopped you.

“If you tell him that I was working with Kate then I’ll tell him that you’re pregnant,” you froze in your steps, taking a deep breath before you turned to him.

“Werewolves are in the womb for a shorter amount of time. I can already hear a heartbeat,” he leaned against the wall as you clenched your jaw.

You couldn't add to more stress, especially now with Scott and Kira missing.

“Don’t think I’m not watching you,” you replied.

“Oh, I would never,” you could see that stupid cocky grin on his face as you exhaled sharply, walking down the stairs.

You could see Derek leaning against the table, resting his head in his hands. You could tell he was upset, and you could feel his pain.

“Hey,” you said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” he put his arm around your waist, pulling you in slightly.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just getting these weapons ready for Mexico,” he replied.

Your face dropped slightly.

“I thought we agreed that you were going to stay here.”

Not this again

“No, you said that. I never replied.”

“Derek, it's not safe,” you ran your fingers through your hair.

“It’s not safe for anyone. But Kira and Scott are gonna die if we don't do something.”

“You could die, though.”

“So could any one of us.”

“Well, I don't care about them, I care about you!” he was surprised when you raised your voice, taking a deep breath.

“They’re your friends, (Y/N),” he put his hand on your cheek, stroking it softly.

“I know, I didn't mean that,” you shook your head.

“If I don't come back then so be it. I’d die for Scott any day,” he replied.

You wrapped your arms around him tightly, your eyes watering before you sniffled, shutting them tightly.

“Braeden said she got the van. We’re supposed to meet her downstairs in a few hours,” Derek said.

You nodded your head softly, sitting down next to him on the couch while he laid his head on top of yours, holding you close.

---

“No, I’ve been calling Lydia for a while, she’s just not answering,” you frowned, walking into the garage with Derek and Braeden by your side.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“Lydia isn't picking up. She went to the school to grab something with Kira’s scent,” Stiles explained.

“Well, we can’t wait for her,” Derek said.

“How about she meets us on the road?” you suggested.

“No, we can’t just leave her alone,” Stiles shook his head.

“I’ll text Mason. He’s probably at school anyway, I’ll tell him to look for Lydia,” Liam asked.

Stiles sighed, before nodding his head.

“What’s the worst Kate can do to Scott and Kira?” you could feel Stiles’ anxiety radiating off of him.

“I don’t know,” you replied softly.

“Right… she can’t steal a true alpha’s power, right?” you turned to face Derek, while he shrugged.

“If somehow she was able to turn me 15 again, who knows what she can do to Scott,” he said.

You sighed, rubbing your fingers through your hair.

“Let’s go,” you nodded.

“Okay, yeah I’ll ride with Derek and Liam since I have experience with out-of-control teen wolves,” Stiles nodded.

You rolled your eyes, before turning to Peter, who had a smirk on his face.

“I’m gonna ride with Peter and Malia,” you immediately said.

You could feel Derek giving you a confused look.

“Someone has to keep an eye on him,” you explained.

“I’ll be doing that,” Malia shrugged.

You could feel all eyes on you while you clenched your jaw, looking at Peter’s smirk.

“I thought you hated Peter,” Liam asked.

“I do,” you replied quickly.

“So then just come with us,” Derek raised an eyebrow, immediately suspicious of you.

“Yeah, whatever. Let’s just go,” you avoided eye contact with Derek before making your way to the truck.

You waited for Derek, Liam, and Stiles to sit inside, before you went in beside them. Braeden pulled you over, stopping you.

“What’s the problem?” she asked.

“Peter, we need to keep an eye on him. He’s working with Kate,” you explained quietly.

“Why can’t Derek know?” she asked.

“He's going to want to do something, but I just need to come up with a plan. The only problem is I have no idea what Peter’s planning,” you muttered.

“Okay, we’ll drive behind him. Does that work?” she asked.

“For now,” you nodded.

She walked to the front seat, while you sat across from Liam and Stiles, holding Derek’s hand.

---

“Okay,” you put the lock around the chains, securing them before pulling on them, making sure Liam wouldn't be able to break through them.

“Here,” you saw Derek hand him the triskelion talisman while you gave him a look.

“It’s been in my family for centuries. It’s a very powerful supernatural talisman,” he explained.

Reverse psychology

You were surprised it would work on werewolves but didn't question it.

“Are you okay,” Derek whispered softly to you.

You raised an eyebrow, before nodding your head.

“I don’t need powers to feel the anxiousness radiating off of you.”

You had barely focused on anything that was going on. Most of your energy was focused on making sure you wouldn't get sick on the way and focused on keeping your pregnancy a secret until after Scott, Derek, and Kira were safe.

“I’m fine. Are you okay?” you replied.

He nodded before you put your head on his shoulder.

The car was nearly silent for a few hours, with the occasional words from Stiles, but you could tell he was also scared for Scott's life.

You heard Liam groaning, while you sat up, realizing the moon was up, it was night.

“Okay. Liam, look at the talisman. Each spiral on the triskelion means something, okay?” you tensed slightly as Derek moved closer to Liam, seeing Liam’s eyes glow yellow.

“Alpha, beta, omega. It reminds us that an alpha and fall to a beta, and that a beta can become an alpha,” Derek explained.

“Can an alpha become an omega?” Liam asked.

Derek nodded his head softly.

“Use it as a mantra. Alpha, beta, omega,” Derek said.

“Alpha, beta omega,” Liam repeated.

“Slower,” you said.

“Alpha… beta… omega,” he repeated slower.

He shut his eyes tightly, while you saw him digging his nails into his hands.

“It’s not working!” he yelled.

“Keep trying,” you said.

You felt the entire van shake, while Braeden swerved slightly. Liam broke from his handcuffs, immediately attacking Derek.

“Prohibe.”

Your eyes were purple as you pushed Liam aside, using all your strength to pin Liam down.

“Liam! Focus!” you yelled.

“Well, it’s clearly not working,” Stiles exclaimed.

“Do you have any better mantras?!” you yelled.

He sighed, before frowning.

“Yeah, I do actually.”

“Colligationem,” Stiles made his way next to Liam.

“Liam, what are three things that cannot long be hidden?” Stiles asked.

You felt Liam digging his claws into your arm as you winced, taking shaky breaths.

“Liam! What are three things that cannot long be hidden?” Stiles asked again.

“The sun, the moon, the truth,” you felt Liam release his grip on you as you let out a deep breath.

You heard Liam continue to repeat it, before his eyes reverted back to his normal color, falling to his side.

You broke the spell from him, stumbling back.

“(Y/N),” Derek put his hand on your arm, examining your wounds.

“I'm sorry, (Y/N),” you could hear the weakness in Liam’s voice as you shook your head.

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo,” you watched as you slowly healed, while Derek frowned.

“How did you do that?” he whispered.

“A spell,” you started.

“You can't heal yourself with magic,” he replied.

“Derek,” you shook your head.

“I’m not an idiot, I know you’ve been hiding something from me,” he replied softly.

You could see Stiles and Liam looking at the two of you while you sighed.

“Can we talk about this later?” 

“Who knows if later is even gonna come?” 

You frowned, looking up at him.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Forget I said anything,” he scoffed.

“Derek,” you put your hand on his shoulder while he scooted away from you.

You put your hands on your head, looking outside the window.

---

The past few hours were silent, while you bounced your leg, biting the skin around your nails.

You felt the van come to a halt, seeing La Iglesia outside the window.

Derek stepped out first, seeing him being pulled out of the van while you jumped, hearing him yell out.

You ran out of the van in fear, feeling your heart racing as you saw a berserker holding down Derek, running its bone fist through Derek.

“Repellunt,” your tears were at bay as you used your magic to pull the berserker off of Derek, pulling Braeden’s gun from her while firing repeatedly at the berserker.

You watched as it ran away, your tears falling freely as your heart began to ache, seeing Derek slumped over across from you.

You ran to him, throwing the shotgun down, putting your hand over Derek’s wounds.

“I-I can heal you. J-Just give me a second,” you could hear his shaky breathing as blood continued to fall out of his wounds.

“Instaurabo,” your eyes were purple, while you put your hands on his wounds. 

Nothing happened, while you continued to try, your tears blurring your vision.

“(Y/N),” you heard Derek groan.

“I don't know why it’s not working,” you continued to repeat the spell.

“(Y/N),” he said again, slightly strained.

“You guys, go in. Find Scott and Kira. Save them. I’m right behind you,” you watched as Stiles hesitated, before nodding his head.

“Save him, (Y/N),” you heard Stiles say before he, Malia, Peter, and Liam ran into the church.

“(Y/N),” Braeden put her hand on your shoulder.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” you asked.

She shook her head no.

“I-It’s fine. I just have to clear my mind,” the thought of losing Derek like this stuck in your head, while his blood covered your shaking hands.

“Looks like Lydia was right after all,” Derek laughed softly, before you heard him coughing, blood coming out of his mouth.

“No, you’re not dying like this,” your voice wavered as you looked down at him.

He put his hand on top of yours while more and more tears rushed down your face.

“You need to go help Stiles,” he said softly.

“I’m not leaving you,” a small cry fell from your lips before you bit them, taking a deep breath.

“You need to,” he said.

You cried softly, shutting your eyes.

“I can’t do this without you,” you cried.

You saw his eyes water slightly as he sniffled.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“No,” you shook your head, pressing your hands onto his wound tightly as he groaned.

“We can still save you,” you continued to press onto the wound and he yelled out in pain.

“(Y/N), I’m begging you to stop,” he said.

“No, you're not dying!” you yelled.

“Braeden,” you heard Derek say.

You felt her pull on your arm while you pushed her off.

“I love you,” he said softly.

“I love you too, Derek. Please, let me try,” you begged.

“We’re not alone,” you heard Braeden say as you tried to hold back your tears.

“Okay, we’re going to split up. Take a shotgun,” she motioned as you shook your head.

“What about Derek?” you said.

“If you don't leave him, all three of us are going to end up dead.” 

Your hands were shaking as you took Derek’s gun out of his pocket.

“Shoot anything that moves,” he nodded his head while you stood up shakily.

Your heart was aching fiercely as you took deep breaths. You felt an overwhelming sense of anger taking over you. Kate did this to him, and you were going to make her pay.

---

You walked around the building, keeping your eyes out for any sign of anyone or anything. You heard a noise, peeking over a corner to see Kate making her way with a berserker next to her.

You aimed the shotgun at the berserker, firing rapidly, yet seeing no effect on it. You heard the shotgun click, as all the bullets laid on the floor.

You saw the berserker charging towards you as you pulled out your gun, aiming it at the berserker to try and phase it, but nothing happened.

“Obice,” you formed a barrier around yourself, jumping slightly as the berserker hit it, trying to break through.

You felt it break through as you stumbled backward, while it put its hands around your throat, pushing your back against the wall as you struggled for your breath.

You tried to pull it off of you, only for its grip to get tighter.

“You know I wouldn't want to hurt a pregnant woman. You’re making this hard on me,” you could hear her taunting voice as your eyes watered slightly.

“Then do it. Kill me. You already killed Derek. Kill me too,” you saw her frown slightly, before shaking her head.

“I didn't do anything to him,” you felt slightly dizzy before hearing a gunshot from beside you, aiming at Kate.

She groaned while the berserker took its grip off of your neck, as you gasped for air.

“(Y/N),” Parrish ran to you, helping you up.

You noticed more and more cars pull up near you, seeing Chris walking to you. You tensed slightly, seeing Araya walking next to him.

The Calaveras

---

You heard guns firing continuously at Kate and the berserkers as you ran to Derek.

“Look, we have help now. They must have something we can use to save you,” the tears never left your eyes as he looked at you, a soft smile on his face.

“Thank you for making life worth living,” you felt like your heart was about to burst from your chest as you shook your head.

“No, Derek,” he closed his eyes, while you heard his last breath fall from his mouth, seeing his body stop moving.

“Derek, wake up. Get up, p-please,” you cried, wrapping your arms around his limp body.

You gasped for air, shutting your eyes tightly as you pulled him in, your body shaking with each sob.

---

“We’re almost out of ammo,” your eyes were bloodshot, your jaw clenched as you stood next to Parrish, keeping your eyes on Kate as you continued to fire at her.

“Screw this,” you threw the gun onto the floor, running to Kate.

“Hold your fire! Stop!” you heard Chris yelling, while you continued running to Kate, wrapping your arms around her neck tightly.

“You're gonna pay!” you yelled, your eyes glowing purple.

“If you kill me you’ll just turn into a demon again. Is that really what you want, (Y/N)?” her voice was strained as you tightened your grip on her neck.

“I don’t care!” you shouted.

You could feel the life leaving her body.

“(Y/N), let her go. You don't want to do this again,” you heard Chris approaching you as you clenched your jaw, pressing down on Kate.

“(Y/N) you don't want to go down this path again,” Chris warned.

“She killed Derek. She has to pay,” a tear fell from your face while Kate smirked.

“You’re not as strong as you think you are, (Y/N),” her eyes flashed a dark green before she growled, striking your face.

She pushed you down, before wrapping her hands around your neck.

“You were so close. Say hi to Derek in hell for me, okay?” you heard a gunshot, seeing Kate getting pushed off you while a yellow bullet flew into her arm.

Yellow wolfsbane

Chris pulled you up.

“Let me take care of her, (Y/N),” Chris shook his head. 

Kate grabbed a gun from her pocket, aiming it at you as she stood up.

Before you processed it, you heard a sound, a wolf howling.

You tensed as the wolf charged towards Kate, pushing her over and attacking her.

“Back up,” Chris pushed you back slightly, while you continued to watch as the wolf attacked Kate.

Your eyes went wide, watching as the wolf shifted into something else, into someone else.

Derek stood in front of you, looking down at Kate as you gasped, tears of joy rushing down your face.

He turned to face you while you ran to him, wrapping your arms around him tightly.

“I wasn’t dying, I was evolving,” he said softly.

“So much for no Pokémon, yeah?” you put your hands on his face, putting your forehead on his.

“Shut up,” he scoffed, putting his hands on either side of your face, before pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Oh my god,” you let out a breath of relief, tightening your grip on him.

“I love you so much,” you said softly.

“I love you too, (Y/N/N),” you closed your eyes softly before gasping, remembering the rest of them.

“Scott!” you yelled out.

You turned to Chris, who nodded his head.

“Go save him. I’ll take care of Kate,” you nodded softly before the two of you ran into the church.

---

“Where the hell are they?!” the two of you ran into the church frantically, looking for any sign of Scott or Stiles, or any of them.

“I can hear them… they're this way,” Derek continued to lead you further into the church.

“You have your powers back,” you said.

“Yeah, I feel better than ever,” your eyes widened, seeing Kira, Stiles, Liam, and Malia all laying on the floor, while Scott was pinned down by Peter.

Something was different, he wasn't just a werewolf anymore. He changed too.

“Traho,” you pulled Peter off of Scott, while Derek wrapped his arms around him, restraining him.

“It’s nice to see you’ve got your strength back, Derek,” Peter said, letting out a bitter laugh.

“Was this your plan all along? To kill Scott?” you scoffed.

“He doesn't deserve to be an alpha,” he barked while Derek tightened his grip.

“You don’t either. You’re a monster, Peter,” you spat.

Scott walked shakily in front of Peter, his eyes glowing red.

He swung his fist, while you looked at him in surprise, seeing Peter collapse onto the floor, unconscious.

“I don't think I’ve ever seen you knock out someone like that,” you said.

“Oh, shut up,” he wrapped his arms around you and Derek, while Derek tensed, before hugging Scott back.

“What happened to you?” Scott asked Derek.

“I’m okay,” Derek nodded, a small smile on his face.

You walked to Liam and Malia, helping them up while Scott helped Kira.

“I feel like I broke something,” Stiles muttered.

You scoffed, while the six of you hugged each other tightly.

Scott tensed, before looking up.

“I hear something,” Scott said.

Derek frowned, before raising an eyebrow.

“There's only seven of us here,” he said.

You frowned slightly, confused.

“I hear it too,” Malia nodded.

“Hear what?” Stiles asked.

“The extra heartbeat,” you bit your lip slightly, giving a look to Derek, trying to find the words to say.

“It’s coming from right here. Is there someone under us?” Liam asked.

“Guys,” you said softly.

“We’ll split up,” Derek held your hand before you shook your head.

“Guys,” you raised your voice, while the rest of them turned back to look at you.

“There’s no one else here,” you said.

“What do you mean?” you turned to face Derek, while he frowned.

The rest of the pack kept their eyes on you while you took a deep breath.

Just say it

You gave Derek a nervous smile, before scratching the back of your head.

“(Y/N),” Derek put his hand on your shoulder.

“T-The heartbeat is coming from… our kid…” your voice trailed off while you saw Derek’s face drop, hearing the rest of the pack yelling.

“You’re pregnant?! Is that why you’ve been acting like a bitch to me?!” Stiles exclaimed.

“How are you pregnant? I-I mean, well, I know the how but like… what?” Scott was baffled, shaking his head.

You continued to look at Derek, trying to get a reaction.

“Are you upset?” you heard the rest of the pack’s voices die down.

“Guys… give us a moment alone,” you felt your heart racing as Derek motioned for the rest of them to leave you two, taking Peter with them.

They nodded, walking out while he put his hand on your cheek.

“Did you want kids?” he asked softly.

“No, I-I mean raising a kid in this life… it isn’t safe, and-” 

“Hey,” he put his hands on either sides of your face, wiping away the tears you didn't know you had.

“It doesn't matter if I want a kid, it isn't safe,” you shook your head.

“If you want kids, we will figure this out and we will be safe. So, do you want kids?” he asked again.

You nodded softly, while he wrapped his arms around you tightly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“It looks like we’re having a kid,” he pressed his forehead against yours as you let out a shaky breath, laughing softly.

“How are we gonna do this?” you cried softly.

“All I know is that we can figure this out, together,” you nodded, while he continued to hug you tightly.

“I am more than happy to have this kid with you. I love you, (Y/N), and I’m going to love this kid too.”

He put his hands on your waist while you put yours around his neck.

“I don't know how I thought you were going to react,” you shook your head.

“Well, I wouldn't have control over this. The best I can do is support the woman I love,” he said softly.

“I'm lucky to have you,” you put your head on his.

“Well, I have a badass girlfriend who fought a bunch of berserkers, hunters, and Kate Argent while being pregnant. So, which one of us is really the lucky one?” you smirked softly while he put his arm around your shoulder, the two of you walking out of the church.

---

“I promised Araya that I would go back with them after this, and help them,” you stood next to Chris, the two of you outside of the church.

It was bright outside, the sun was shining. To anyone else, it would look like a picture perfect scene.

“When will you come back to Beacon Hills?” you asked.

“I don’t know yet. Not for a while,” he shook his head.

You wrapped your arms around him tightly, feeling tears come to your eyes as you blinked them back.

“Thank you for everything, Chris. I-I don’t know what I’d be without you,” you felt him pause, before hugging you tighter.

“I love you, kiddo,” you pulled away from him, seeing him crying as you laughed softly, wiping away your tears.

“Stay safe. Don't get yourself killed,” you said softly.

“Same to you. You have your own family now. You need to be careful,” you nodded, while he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

You watched as he walked away, getting into the van as Derek walked to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek before he put his arm around your shoulder.

You watched as the van drove off, before turning to Derek.

“Ready to go home?” he asked softly.

You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder before the two of you made your way to the van. The rest of the pack was already waiting, as Derek held your hand tightly, pressing a small kiss to it.

“I love you, (Y/N/N),” he said softly.

“I love you too.”

#teen wolf #teen wolf text #teen wolf fic #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf angst #teen wolf fics #Derek #derek hale #derek hale text #Derek Hale Angst #derek hale imagine #derek hale fluff #derek hale imagines #derek hale x reader #derek hale x you #derek hale x reader fluff #derek hale x reader angst #derek hale x y/n #derek hale x hale!reader #derek hale x witch!reader #chris argent #chris argent imagine #scott mccall #scott mccall imagine #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagine #liam dunbar #liam dunbar imagine

[hamliet]

RWBY and the Philosopher’s Stone

So, I finally watched RWBY after a friend name-dropped several characters and I was like wait... those names are alchemical. I was still pleasantly surprised to find out just how deeply rooted in alchemy the story is, from its characters to its plot structure. 

Background: alchemical structure is a type of story structure that focuses on inner transformation via outward obstacles. You can find it in literary traditions across the world, from Moxiang Tongxiu’s novels to A Song of Ice and Fire to Harry Potter to The Witcher to Trollhunters. Carl Jung incorporated it into his psychology. Daoism plays heavily into Chinese alchemy. The Wizard of Oz, one of RWBY’s main inspirations, is a blatant alchemy allegory. It’s everywhere, so it’s not surprising RWBY is drawing heavily on alchemy, but it is neat to see how blatant the references are. 

Thematically, the goal of alchemy is a metaphorical philosopher’s stone. The philosopher’s stone, in legend, is said to produce an elixir of eternal life, and to be able to transform “baser” metals into gold. 

In stories, when positive, as it usually is, this usually results in a character either overcoming death (see, Harry Potter) and/or transforming the world and others around him (Harry Potter saving his friends, etc.) But the journey from how they get from prima materia (raw material) to the philosopher’s stone? Now that’s the story. 

(When reversed, a metaphorical stone results in something that can destroy everything; see: the One Ring, also Salem, because Salem’s whole thing is that she cheapened the process of life and death, while alchemy states that death is a necessary part of achieving life.)

So, mostly I’m gonna talk about the symbolism I’ve seen so far and make some predictions for what’s likely to happen next in the story, and for the characters.

Each of the four main characters has a name that corresponds to one of the four phases of the Magnum Opus. “Blake Belladonna” refers to the nigredo, or black stage; “Weiss Schnee” to the albedo, or white stage; “Yang Xiao Long” to the citrinitas or yellow phase, and “Ruby Rose” to the final stage, rubedo, or red (Ruby’s name is quite literally taken from that stage). Naming them for these stages shows a dual purpose: while Ruby is the central character, she needs her team around her, and Team RWBY will save the world together. Team JNR is also a part of the stages, but I’ll get to what they represent later on. 

Jung associated each of the major stages with a major archetype. The major stages can be further broken up into a total of seven or twelve or even fourteen stages. Most commonly you’ll see George Ripley’s Twelve Gates referenced, and I believe that’s what RWBY is referencing as well since its allusions are pretty perfect. The "gates” or stages also sometimes overlap, especially when different characters might be at different stages. 

Nigredo: Seasons 1-3 

Alchemy begins by gathering the prima materia, or raw material. The characters assembling in season 1 is more of the gathering than the actual transformative process. But once we hit season 2, we dive straight into the process. 

Calcination occurs during the climax of season 2, during the fight on the train. Season 3 contains dissolution, or the washing of impurities through the exposure of certain secrets (like the fall maiden) as well as the literal dissolution of Beacon Academy, and separation (the end of the season, when Team RWBY is scattered). 

Narratively, Jung associated nigredo with the shadow, with someone’s dark night of the soul, their low point. In historical artistic depictions, often part of nigredo is dismemberment... which happens to Yang when she saves Blake from Adam. See, Splendor Solis: 

The goal of the shadow is that it should be integrated with, accepted, rather than denied. Facing the shadow is a necessary part of growth and ultimate transformation... and the point is, through facing the shadow, hope and light come.  

Peacock’s Tail: Seasons 4-5

Okay, I lied, there are sometimes five phases in alchemy. At the very end of nigredo, just before albedo, there is sometimes a flash of light, of rainbows and colors, that give hope. It’s not quite a phase, more of a moment, but it’s referred to as the peacock’s tail. While this is less plot-related, it does make sense that this is the point in the story where Team RJNR is formed. Why? Because look at their colors:

Ruby: red, black

Jaune: yellow, blue

Ren: green, purple

Nora: white, pink, orange

Between them we’ve pretty much got the full rainbow. 

We also have, in Blake’s arc, the introduction of Ilia Amitola, whose last name is the Souix word for “rainbow.” 

Albedo: Seasons 5-7

Albedo is associated with the anima or animus, or the part of ourselves that we are lacking (it’s generally gendered as the male within a female and the female within a male, but please understand he’s not talking literally and more in terms of traditional qualities ascribed as feminine or masculine that we may repress), which more than fits the fact that this stage begins while team RJNR is literally wandering around a continent called Anima. 

Conjunction is a term in which all the separated parts that can be salvaged from the Nigredo come together. Obviously the main incident for this is the fight at the end of volume 5, but I’d argue it overlaps a bit with volume 4 and even with separation.

The characters are only able to come together again once they’ve accepted aspects of their shadows. Yang deals with hers in Raven and Blake with the White Fang. Nora and Ren’s fight at their home village represents them dealing with their shadow as well, and also relates to conjunction because conjunction is the stage where the first chemical wedding comes into play. A chemical wedding is the joining of alchemical partners, and while I’ll probably discuss ships in another post (there’s a lot of set up alchemy-wise), I’ll just reference the obvious one here: 

The fountain image and a person shooting arrows is some pretty uncannily similar imagery to the fight at Nora and Ren’s home village. 

Next up in albedo is putrefication (focus on death and rotting). We see this with the encounter with the Apathy, who look like skeletons, cause death, etc. We’re also introduced to Maria Calaveras, aka the Grimm Reaper. (Her last name also means “skull” aka the white results of putrefication). 

Congelation requires a lot of water, and we see this in the focus on Atlas, wherein snow (water) is everywhere. The point of congelation is to separate the thin from the thick, the latter of which will of course become the Philosopher’s Stone. We see this through Team RWBY’s break with the Ace-Ops (aka the Aesops), whose simplistic morality and rule-following are not going to bring about character growth or eternal life. 

Citrinitas: Volume 7-?

Citrinitas focuses on the light, or fire. That immediately after congelation, a giant whale brimming with yellow appears in the white-colored Atlas is not a coincidence. Citrinitas is associated with the sage or the wise old man/woman, so Maria and Pietro fill this role. 

The first stage of citrinitas is cibation, which involves feeding with fresh material. I’d actually say that it seems quite possible cibation overlaps with congelation, in that there is a focus on food and on training with the Ace-Ops early in Volume 7. The next phases are sublimation and fermentation. I can see potential for sublimation in that it essentially is when solid becomes air (think of the setting of Atlas), but it’s too soon to say what this means for the plot. 

Fermentation, though... well, things will get worse before they get better. :’) 

Rubedo: 

Finally, Rubedo is associated with the fully individualized self. We can assume each of the main seven will come into their own, confident of whom they are. Oscar should, as well, and probably will have fully control over his body by the end (ie Oz will likely... find rest or whatever).

The stages of rubedo are exaltation (the creation of the stone after two contraries meet), multiplication (the stones’ properties increase), and projection (the stone’s abilities are projected over the entire world, aka presumably RWBY will save the world). 

The most common way to display multiplication is through, well, a lot of couplings. It’s why the main characters ending single seems extremely unlikely to me. Even if it seems a fairy tale ending, well.... *gestures to everything about RWBY being inspired by fairy tales* Fairy tales were also often alchemy based. But ships will get their own meta, because I actually don’t really ship much besides Renora and am for once not super invested in anything, but I can see the set-up for four or five ships.

I also want to highlight the other symbolic names that stood out to me: 

Ironwood. While I know Ironwood references the Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz (tin being one of seven metals associated with alchemy), his name also references a second metal: Iron. Tin and Iron are the two of the three basest metals in alchemy (the other is lead). Iron in particular is ruled by Mars, the god of war, meaning it is associated with violence. It’s not a coincidence that pretty much from the second Ironwood is introduced, the concept of war comes up, and his entire character has gone on to be the embodiment of the military and violence. 

Tai Xiao Long. His name literally means “sun,” and Ruby’s mother is defined by her silver eyes (silver being a color traditionally associated with the moon). Ruby is thus considered the child of the Solar King and Lunar Queen, two mythical alchemical figures who together create the “Philosophical Child,” or the personified philosopher’s stone.

Pietro Polendina: his name literally means “stone,” and Penny is his philosopher’s stone. Penny is arguably a reference to copper, another of the seven metals, as copper references compassion and love, which seems like Penny to me. 

Qrow and Raven Branwen: crows and ravens are symbolic of nigredo, or the black phase; death, decay, etc. However, within the story I think Qrow and Raven fulfill this role as the Jungian shadows of hunters as a whole and of Yang. 

Sun Wukong: obviously a reference to the sun. 

Emerald Sustrai: Emerald is a reference to the Emerald Tablet, which in alchemical lore is a tablet containing the secrets of alchemy, as written down by Hermes (in legend). Hermes is, of course, Mercury. Everything about alchemy stems from the Emerald Tablet, so Emerald should be important. In addition, green is the color of the prima materia, so it references Emerald’s arc in being shaped and molded by Cinder. 

Mercury Black: Mercury as the mythological god is the legendary founder of alchemy, so like, he’s important. Mercury is also the third most important metal in alchemy, after gold and silver. It is necessary to achieving the philosopher’s stone so, like Emerald, Mercury is probably important. Mercury is of particular note because mercurial characters are common in alchemical literature: they make stuff happen. Think of Mercutio in Romeo and Juliet, for example. Mercury transcends death symbolically (you can see the roots of this in Mercury’s backstory with his assassin father): it is difficult to pin down and can quickly shift from liquid to solid. Thus, in alchemy, mercury can shift between life and death. 

Mercury is also a noted servant of the white queen. I initially thought this a surface reference to Salem’s appearance, and it might be, but Salem is more associated with a black queen in the recurring chess motif, and I don’t see Mercury staying on her side (mercury isn’t fixed, after all; that’s its central tenet), so I kind of wonder if the “white queen” will be later revealed. Or maybe it just is a surface mention.

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