#younger also than the version of him in ch 5

[topazshadowwolf]

GoopTales: Part 17

Time for the kids to go to bed. (again... but this time in their room)

Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17(you are here)

AO3: Ch 1 (1-4), Ch 2 (4-8), Ch 3 (9-12), Ch 4 (13-16)

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The bedrooms the boys usually slept in were close to his chambers but not right next door. They were in the same hall, just further down and clustered together. They chose them like mildly rebellious teenagers who wanted to strike out on their own while only moving a block away. With them currently being so small, Nightmare didn’t want them even that far away. Besides, their rooms were far too much of a mess as well. (Except for Cross’ room, but that is beside the point.)

No, Nightmare wanted these younger versions of his boys closer to his room and in a cleaner space. Also, with how clingy they were towards each other, they would be best all together in one room versus separated in four different ones like normal.

So he picked a room right next to his. While Lyra got them washed up for the night, he got the room ready for them. Their favorite blankets he did fetch from their rooms with pictures or other items each boy seemed fond of. They might not remember these objects, but if those items bring any amount of comfort, then the effort is worth it. As he was doing this, it was starting to hit him.

Obviously, he knew and understood what happened, but all this time, he had been reacting to the situation. He did ponder it before… but as he was setting up a room for them, the realness of this was sinking further in. He sat on a chair he set near the bed to read from as he needed a moment to settle the complex feelings within him.

This evening had been nice. They ate dinner together, played a board game, and enjoyed each other's company. But the fact is that his boys were different. As enjoyable as this afternoon and evening were, he wanted the adults back. He even missed the chaos of them. He would know they were alright if they were their true selves again. Additionally, they would know who he was and not be wondering why they couldn’t go home.

(Except for Dust, that one could use being raised by him. A far better option than his actual childhood.)

But even the adult Dust he sorely missed.

“Here we are!” Said Lyra as she guided the boys into the room. They were all dressed for bed and looking around with wide, bright sockets.

“wow! we get to sleep here?!” Killer asked as he looked up at Lyra.

“Yes, you do! It is the room Mr. Night chose for you to sleep in. Was that nice of him?” She asked.

“yes!” Cross replied as he then ran in and over to the bed. 

It was a tall bed, so Nightmare had put a step stool for the children to use. Cross, though, being the adventurous child he is, decided to disregard the stool and try climbing up on his own. The heavy emotions Nightmare had been feeling were replaced by amusement as he watched the child struggle to climb up to the top.

“Do you want help, Cross?” Nightmare asked.

“mm, nah… i got… it,” Cross huffed as he finally squirmed and pulled his way up.

“oh! I wanna try!” Killer said as he started climbing.

Horror used the step stool and then helped Dust up as well. They sat on the bed, watching Killer struggle his way up and join Cross in laying on his back and catching his breath.

Breath finally caught, Cross sat up and smiled at Nightmare, “thank you, mr. night!”

“what… he said,” Killer wheezed.

Horror and Dust also said their thank yous, though Dust’s was more mumbled than anything. He picked up one of the books Lyra had previously bought and opened it. The story was very… simple… so was the wording. He frowned for a moment and then looked at the Toriel in question. “This is really meant for children?”

“Well… yes,” She replied, looking confused.

“There is nothing here to challenge the mind,” He stated with a frown.

“They are getting ready for bed, not school. You can read something to offer a challenge in the morning. For now, a simple story, with a simple moral, is best for sleeping,” She explained, and Nightmare had to admit that made sense. Still, he had been reading far more advanced books when he was just a little older than them.

“i wanna be challenged!” Killer protested.

“what kind of challenge?” Cross asked as he sat up. “is it a test of strength?”

“or speed?” Killer asked.

“It is a test to see,” Lyra started, but Nightmare could see the nervousness in Dust’s eyelights.

“Not a test,” Nightmare said quickly to cut off. “Also, no challenges tonight. What Lyra was saying is right. You four need sleep.”

“but i don’t wanna,” Killer huffed.

“Well, if you do not sleep, then you will not be able to do anything fun tomorrow,” Nightmare stated flatly.

“what?! why not?!” Killer then demanded, sitting up, “that’s mean! why won’t you let me do anything fun tomorrow just for not sleeping?”

“It will not be me not letting you. It will be you being too tired to do anything fun,” Nightmare replied. He then mused and set the book aside. “I think I have the perfect story for the night. It is one that actually happened, and I was there to see.”

“Did it happen last week?” Killer asked.

“Longer than that,” Nightmare replied.

“Last month?” Cross then asked, wanting to join in this game.

“Longer,” Nightmare answered.

Horror was now curious and spoke up, “two years ago?”

“Still longer,” Nightmare replied.

“how old are you, mr. night?” Dust asked quietly.

“I am both very old and not at the same time,” Nightmare answered, “Now, will you let me tell my story?”

“how can you be very old and not very old?” Killer asked.

“are you like the boss monsters? they stop aging unless they have kids.” Horror asked.

“We are like that, yes,” Lyra replied. She then smiled at Nightmare. “I will go clean up and let you tell your story.”

She left the room, and he stood and readjusted the blankets. As Nightmare tucked them each in, he started his story. “Settle in, comfy cozy, as they say. Now, once upon a time, a very long time ago, there was a tiny sun and a tiny moon. They were brothers, and they got along very well, sharing what they had and protecting a great planet that was their mother.”

Killer gasped quietly and whispered, “i love space!”

“shhh,” Replied Horror.

“Now the sun was always bright and happy, and all the mortals that lived on their mother were happy to see him. They were so glad to see him that one day, this tiny sun asked if he could stay up with his brother, the moon, all night long. The moon wasn’t sure if that was wise and asked the sun if he would still be able to warm the planet the next day if he did that. Too excited to think about the consequences, the sun assured the moon he could. That night, the sun played all night with the moon, and the moon had so much fun playing with his brother, the sun.

“Then the morning came, and the sun was so tired that he fell asleep. Worried for his brother, the moon tried to help, but his light wasn’t as strong as the sun’s. The mortals became cold, and that made them angry.”

“Moon!” Nightmare snapped in a more gruff voice. “Where is Sun? We need him, not you!”

The next voice he did was more youthful, and he felt odd hearing it. Still, he continued, as the children seemed happy, “I am sorry, cried Moon. I am trying my best, but my brother is tired and needs to sleep. I will help you the best I can.”

“It is your fault! You tricked him into being active at night when we need to sleep. Now, when we need his light and warmth, we are in the dark and cold! The mortals yelled at the small moon. They continued to insult and threaten the moon until he ran and hid. Soon, the sun woke, and he saw his brother was gone.”

“Sun! The mortal called, We have chased off the wicked moon who dared to steal your place.”

“This surprised the sun, and he then ran. The mortals yelled after the sun as they were left in darkness without Sun providing his light. They did not even have the tiny moon there to give his light. Still, that did not matter to Sun as he wanted to find his brother, Moon. So, he left the mortals in their darkness.

“He searched and searched, finding the small moon eventually by a stream of stardust. He apologized to the moon for breaking his promise and said that he would do his best to complete his duties so the mortals would never talk to him like that ever again.”

“did the moon forgive him?” Killer asked.

“Yes, he did,” Nightmare answered.

“the mortals should have apologized!” Cross frowned and folded his arms.

“what are mortals anyway?” Killer asked.

“i don’t know what they are either,” Cross frowned.

“None of you know what mortals are?” Nightmare asked. And all but one shook their heads. “Dust?”

“they… are any creature that can grow old and die…,” Dust said softly.

“That is correct. Humans and monsters are all mortals,” Nightmare praised.

“are there things that don’t?” Killer asked, looking at Dust.

“immortal is the word for a thing that doesn’t grow old and die,” Dust answered.

“Well done,” Nightmare nodded.

“are you in-mortal?” Cross asked Nightmare.

Killer then gasped and sat up, “is that how you’re old and not old?”

“It is pronounced immortal, but yes,” Nightmare said before he had Killer lie back to tuck him in again. “Now, we can discuss this more in the morning. Good night.”

He reached over to turn off the light when Killer whined, “don’t we get a kiss goodnight?”

“A what?” Nightmare frowned as he looked at Killer.

“dad always gives me a kiss on the head right here,” Killer pointed at a spot in the middle of his forehead. “i can’t go to sleep without it.”

“What do you mean you can’t? You did last night,” Nightmare corrected.

“that was a slumber party, that’s different,” Killer whined.

“Is this not also, in a way, a ‘slumber party?’” Nightmare frowned.

“nuh-uh! this is different,” Killer frowned and folded his arms.

“slumber parties have games, and you stay up late and watch movies and stuff,” Cross explained.

“this is ‘mommy and daddy wanna do fun stuff without the kids, so we have to go to bed when they want,’” Killer huffed, and Horror snorted back a laugh.

“what?! what kinda fun stuff do they do?” Cross said while looking shocked at the idea that what Killer said could be true.

“stuff that isn’t even fun, like kissing,” Killer complained.

“If kissing is an issue, why are you asking for one?” Nightmare inquired.

“it’s diiiiiifferent!” Killer threw his arms up as he spoke with an exasperated tone. As annoying as this was, Nightmare could not help but find amusement. “i want a bedtime kiss. adult do gross mouth kissing!” Killer frowned and glared at the ceiling as he folded his arms again.

“ewww, do they brush their teeth first?” Cross asked.

“i don’t think they do since they just kiss each other on the lips. or teeth for skeletons or non-lip monsters,” Horror added.

“nuh-uh! i saw some kissing before, and they were opening their mouths and-” Killer started.

“That is enough,” Nightmare interjected as this was getting out of hand. He highly doubted he would hear the end of this if he didn’t surrender to Killer’s demands. “Here,” he said as he bent over and kissed Kill’s forehead. Then he did the same for Cross, Horror, and Dust. “Now, go to sleep.”

“thank you, and good night, mr. night!” Killer said with a big smile before rolling to his side and closing his sockets. The others added their own thank yous and settled into bed to sleep. Nightmare turned off the light and then turned to leave. The cartoon-style dragon night light illuminated the way, even though he didn’t need it to see.

He stepped out into the hall, noticing Lyra was standing nearby as he closed the door most of the way. She leaned closer to him and said softly, “I thought I was going to have to save you.”

“You already have,” He smiled at her. “Thank you”

“I will ask you one more time. Are you sure?” She asked as she looked at him calmly. “My room is just right over there. The very room you gave me so I would feel more welcomed here. I can stay… I will stay however long you need me.”

He looked away, thinking about that. If there was no cure? What then? She would be stuck being the mother of his sons… his henchmen who would truly be his sons. No. He knows Toriel’s are motherly, but he highly doubted the boys sleeping in the room behind him were the type of children she would want to be the mother of. If he lets her stay, she will accept that fate… just as she has allowed him to cling to her.

“Lyra, I will call you when I need help, I guarantee that. But let me at least try,” He said.

She hummed softly and nodded, “Alright, I understand. They are your boys.”

Lyra then did something he did not expect as she placed her hand on his face, along his left jawline. She directed his head to tilt up as she leaned down and gently kissed his forehead. “Good night, Moonbeam.”

He blinked at her as she pulled away and gave him a mischievous smile. All the while, his mind struggled to get caught up with the act that just occurred. It took longer than it should have to register that she kissed him good night.

Not once in his long life had he ever been kissed goodnight before. And now…

Her portal was open, and she was walking towards it. His mind snapped out of its daze just in time for Nightmare to say, “Good night, Lyra.” She gave him another smile before walking through and leaving his castle.

…

Nightmare should go to his office, where he stashed the dating advice books. He was not as ready for that as he should have been. It was such a… soft and platonic kiss that it should not have startled him. Leaning against the castle wall, he sighed… it was likely just him being tired and honestly not used to acts of affection beyond initiating hugs with others.

He needed sleep… and while the boys were asleep, he should sleep too.

---

next

#UTMV #GoopTales #Dadmare #nightmare!sans #killer!sans #cross!sans #dust!sans #horror!sans #Lyra!toriel #Balance!toriel #Nightmare flavored soriel #Fuzzynight #Nightmare tells the boys a bedtime story #domestic fluff #dadmare fluff

[hikennosabo]

trimax vol 13 random thoughts (ch 5-9)

part 1 here!

chapter 5:

okay, it took me way longer than it should have to figure out what happened in this scene, lol. razlo gets behind elendira and blocks her nail gun with the nail that's already in his body which jams her gun and pushes the nail further into his torso which takes them both by surprise.

"some dumbasses"?? do you mean wolfwood and vash?? LOL

come on, come on, come on!!! he's so cute, lol. he's like a dog who wants to play.

i love watching razlo fight!!! it's so fun seeing him fight a different way due to not having his punishers/third arm anymore. he's having so much fun too, it's infectious~

UNTIL ELENDIRA USES A PSYCHIC ATTACK ON HIM. JESUS CHRIST. THAT ONE ALMOST HAD ME.

chapter 6:

ma'am could you please stop serving cunt for a second i'm trying to read manga and you are distracting me

AAAAAGH AND THEN SHE BLASTS HIS LEG OFF. THAT ONE WASN'T FAKE THAT ONE WAS REAL. he'll be okay but :(

CHEKHOV'S VIAL?!

uuuueeee... wolfwood... just seeing the little panel of him... i miss him so much... and the reminder of wolfwood brings livio back out. ueee... waaahhhh...

i'm sitting here trying to articulate my feelings about livio and razlo and i can't, really... :') livio feeling so bad and apologizing that he has to rely on razlo so much, razlo doing his best to encourage livio... they really care about each other a lot. it's very sweet. i care them. :(((

oh this is so very much not how DID works but it's both cool and important to their character arcs so it's FINE!!!! it's fine

huuuhhhmmmmm something something symbolism in livio's guns being reversible and livio and razlo working together, two as one... is this anything? am i connecting any dots here?

they were able to bring elendira to her knees with their teamwork!!!!

chapter 7:

uwaaahhh! young livio flashback!! this is where his twinky stampede self came from i guess. i hope season 2 gives us a beefier version-

...wait. wait, wait, wait, wait, wait wait wait. hold on. speaking of stampede. give me a second.

*returns 30 minutes later* HUH. INTERESTING. so stampede shows us livio working hard in EoM to catch up with wolfwood, but in the manga, it's all but outright stated that he's trying to catch up with razlo.

sorry i'm just fascinated by the tristamp/manga differences and seeing younger livio doing pushups reminded me (stamp!livio does pushups the same way!!)

we're not supposed to know that razlo exists yet in tristamp; i wonder if or how season 2 is going to reframe any of this. it's not like i dislike livio and wolfwood's relationship in stampede!! i think it's really sweet, introducing livio into ww's story earlier is a good move, and livio joining EoM to catch up with ww makes everything in the relevant episodes more emotional. but the relationship between livio and razlo is just as important!!

razlo encouraging livio is SO cute, uwaaaahhh...

WAAAHHHHH!!!! I LOVE THESE TWO SO MUCH!!!!!

babygirl, please, i am begging. why are you so sad. tell me who hurt you. i am on my hands and knees.

to him... while drinking wolfwood's last vial... i am going to fucking throw up i feel so normal about this

chapter 8:

elendira, killed by her own nail... oh girl... my beloved... i did not expect her to live but i'm still sad she's gone. what a fantastic fight though. might be my favorite fight in this manga.

also livio's gonna have an interesting time trying to get up and get her off of him once his limbs regenerate... uh... if they can regenerate? i'm assuming they can...

i am gonna fucking CRYYYY... calling him by name... wwwaaaaahhhhh...

he would be so proud of you, livio!!!! WAAAAHHH!!!

okay, time to cut back to my other faves having their own battle.

it's so funny that legato thinks this. dude, she hates your guts. if she knew she was gonna see you in the afterlife soon she WOULD worry.

huh? that's her name? like the painting?

also i've been wondering this whole time why she looks like that. like why is she designed to look like a woman. did legato design her himself?? is this his aesthetic sense??

haha ouch! thanks for spelling out the metaphor so plainly!

ahhhh, july flashback... this was uhhh... *checks* ten years ago. supposedly. i'm not sure how much i trust the timeline anymore.

actually i do wonder how measuring time works on this planet. like, everything seems to be measured the same way it is on earth, so does noman's land also have 365 days in a year and 24 hour days?

he's so cute, i am holding him gently in my hands.

knives is so mean... to be just a tiny little bit fair to him, i too would be low on patience if my brother just blasted me with a death beam and someone suddenly started handling my guts that were hanging out. but he's so mean!! i feel bad for legato!!

i AM surprised that knives is still conscious... and that he's still mostly intact. like his guts are hanging out but it looks like his legs and arms (or at least one arm) are still attached, and he's still got. y'know. most of his skin. certainly more intact than his stampede self, lmao.

vash, honey, what on earth makes you think he plans on living through this fight any more than you are. :')

i just like this spread.

chapter 9:

OH BOY, HE'S FERAL!!! truly, he is going out in a blaze of glory just like he wanted. i wouldn't expect anything else from him at this point.

ahhh... stampede!legato talks a lot about discarding emotion in favor of devotion. but emotion and devotion are intrinsically linked. legato is a pretty emotional person, he cries a lot and yells a lot... as long as he can express his devotion to knives, he feels like he's fulfilling his purpose, so he's happy... i'm glad he's having fun at least... :')

WAAAAHHH VASH IS REMEMBERING WOLFWOOD NOW... his face is not quite visible but... vash is remembering wolfwood's words because he's thinking he really is going to have to kill legato to end this fight... killing legato just like in the 98 anime...

i get caught up in the action, but every time they bring wolfwood up i realize how much i miss him...

this panel fucks.

i love watching legato go fucking crazy fighting. i wanna see this fight animated so bad :''')

when i read the top panel, i was like, "because of knives, right?" then i read the bottom panel... ahhh... not just knives... every plant... it's a good thing tristamp established this relatively early because we don't really see vash doing this in the story lol

i'm remembering "do you think we can become friends with them?" "yeah... it might take a lot of effort though..." :'''')

chronica, girl, i know you're very angry with knives, but as far as revenge goes, you need to get in line. you got here like five minutes ago, there are other people with much longer-lasting beef than you who deserve a shot at him before you.

the smallest meryl u can imagine...

WAAAAH this is so sweet, they love him so much :(

i said this already but i LOVE seeing legato go all-out, it's cool!! it gets me pumped up!!! this is just... such a good fight!!!

wait, is the earth ship falling because chronica used up so much energy firing the cannon multiple times?? GIRL...

THIS PAGE FUCKS!!!

THIS SPREAD ALSO FUCKS!! the way that the debris fades out above them, they're only focused on each other...!!!

final thoughts... i'm surprised legato survived this volume?! i really thought he would die in this one... he lasted longer than i thought he would, not that i'm complaining... UUAAAAAGHHH i am gnawing on my arm rn, i can't believe there's only one volume left?! i'll be finished *checks day* TOMORROW?!?!? if i don't procrastinate on reading... which i might do because i don't want it to be over... waaaah...

how will knives be defeated? can humanity survive? will livio's limbs regenerate? and most importantly, HOW WILL VASH GET HIS WILL TO LIVE BACK?!?!

#trigunbookclub #every time i reference stampede i worry i'm missing something #because i still haven't finished my most recent rewatch (got too emotional about episode 9) #but i've gone back and watched livio's episode and a half multiple times LOL #trigun talk #june speaks

[abybweisse]

Thank you for your wonderful entries and sharing all the Mother 3 parallels! Which hashtags should I use to search your old posts on the possibility O!Ciel being made sick on purpose?Thank you

I'm so glad you like all the Mother3 parallels! Thanks! 😊

I have very few posts about the idea/theory about keeping our earl sick, I'm sure, since about the only time I ever talk about the subject is in response to asks or the occasional post elsewhere. Because it's never been a theory of mine but a theory of others.

It's usually part of others' RCMT -- Real Ciel Mastermind Theory -- which I've never ascribed to. Because it's a Munchausen by Proxy idea, in which real Ciel slowly poisoned his younger twin in order to make him ill and/or keep him ill. The idea being, if I recall, to keep him from ever moving away. Either real Ciel did it when they were 5, saw the result of asthma development, and kept doing it... or he saw asthma develop at 5 but later subside, so he started poisoning his brother to either copy the effects or to actually make the asthma symptoms return. How he would know what substances to use, how to get it, how to use it, or what amounts to use is not something any of those theorists has ever properly, realistically explained.

Since Undertaker is so upset over the death of Vincent, and he has toyed with the cinematic records of real Ciel, the only way Undertaker would possibly bring real Ciel back (if any version of RCMT were true, especially if it were a stronger version of the theory) would be to give our earl a target for revenge. But, if that were the case, why go to the trouble of trying to give real Ciel any advantages? Why not, in ch 140 or something, say "Hey, Earl. Here's your older twin. He's the one who made you ill, killed your parents and accidentally got you both sold off to a cult. Destroy him and have your revenge." Or even "Hey, Earl. Here's your pathetic older twin who kept you ill and helped attackers destroy your life, purely in the hopes it meant you could never leave his side, and he accidentally ended up getting you both sold off to a cult. Silly child got himself killed in the process. I've brought him back from the dead... mostly. Hihiiii.... Have a go at him. Or three." But, no.

So, now that we know Undertaker is behind bringing real Ciel back as this "masterpiece" of a bizarre doll -- or Masked Man (and possibly the Ultimate Chimera, depending on what he's actually capable of), if you want the Mother3 parallels -- I'm pretty much convinced that real Ciel (when he was alive) could be nothing more than a weak and scared little child who couldn't protect his family from an attack that got the better of his parents and servants. And then couldn't save himself and had no way of knowing his death would end up "saving" his younger twin.

But, if you are seriously looking for my few posts or comment reblogs on the subject, that's a hard one, because I might not have tagged them for it so specifically. I'd try #RCMT for anything I've written about the main theory, and the "keeping his brother ill" mentions would probably come up within it. You could also try #munchausen by proxy, but that might not bring up search results... just yet. I'll see if I can hunt some of those posts down and look at how they are tagged. Update the tags a bit, if needed. Eventually, I'll add an anti-RCMT section to my Tagging Masterpost. There's already a section for #attack at the manor and #fire at the manor, and those are tags that would also likely bring up RCMT posts, though those tags are broad enough to bring up a lot of completely non-RCMT stuff, too. I'll see what I can do to improve the tagging and searching options for the topic. Meanwhile, I've included those best tags below for you to click and see what you get, and you can try things like "RCMT" and "Munchausen by proxy" in the search field of my blog to see if anything else comes up. Honestly, these are the same methods I use when I'm trying to find my own old posts/reblogs. I think of what tags I might have used or even a phrase that might be in the post but not in the tags, and I use that faulty-ass search function for all it's worth.

I hope this helps you find the posts you are searching for.

ETA: clicking the #rcmt tag below brings up a lot of posts that might interest you, and I came upon a "keeping our earl ill" post after a bit of scrolling. It's only briefly mentioned there, but it's there... in reference to older posts, looks like. I added #munchausen by proxy to the tags for it. Here's another I've now updated the tags for; it talks way more about the forced illness aspect of RCMT. In that one, the reason given was less about keeping our earl there and more about just keeping the younger twin weak... so that the older twin remains stronger, by comparison.

Other tags that might be useful include #anti rcmt, #real ciel powerless theory lol, #rcpt, and perhaps another tag or two in the posts linked above. I'll add those tags below, too, for clicking purposes.

However, after my own searching methods, I only found three posts that specifically talk about that subject, including this post. There might be more, but they must not be tagged with anything too helpful.

#RCMT #munchausen by proxy #attack at the manor #fire at the manor #try those first four tags #black butler #kuroshitsuji #real ciel #ciel phantomhive #our earl #earl phantomhive #undertaker #tanaka #anon asks #i answer #answered asks #aug 20 2022 #anti rcmt #real ciel powerless theory lol #rcpt

[thequietmanno1]

Thelreads, Vigilantes 70, Replies Part 3

(Vigilantes ch 69) 1) “Dude, that isn`t mumbling, that is straight up thinking, and I don`t believe you have a thought-transmitting quirk inside of that body of yours.”-  Depends. Now that 2 whole years have passed, with what kind of upgrading and biological remodelling has likely been done to both Number 6 and the bomber parasites, he might have more abilities stacked inside his body than when we last saw him. Who knows what secrets lurk beneath that lanky frame of his? (Vigilantes ch 69) 2) “he`s a nomu. he`s definitely a nomu. 110% he`s a nomu the same way number 6 was one, he`s just as powerful as the older version, he`s merely a bit more… restrained. McBee would`ve turned them into mush, this guy is at least trying to look friendly in front of pop.”- Or Number 6 has a personal reason to keep the façade going whilst Pop’s around. And it’s definitely a personal obsession that’s driving him here. Koichi and Pop are too uninvolved in Knuckle’s investigation of the Villain Factory for there to be any professional or business-related reason for Number 6 to infiltrate their lives like this, so whatever he’s got planned, it’s all coming from his own interest in the duo from their prior relationship with Knuckle. (Vigilantes ch 69) 3) “Also yeah dude, why did you showed the other business card first? that sounds way too fishy, and why you are working on a department store? More specifically, on that department store, where Pop and Koichi are always around? Are you going to lead with some “I`m investigating a certain vigilante” or some shit like that now?”- Well, he is investigating him. He’s seen as much as he needs to know about Koichi from his own spying to make himself feel confident that Knuckleduster chose the wrong ‘successor’ to his legacy, but he still can’t puzzle out what Knuckle saw in somebody so unremarkable to make him have such faith in him, and that’s a driving question that digs at Number 6, no matter how much he tries to ignore it.

4) “Oh that you`re a loser we know, but being honest, only one of the two of us is a fool in this scenario, and apparently it is I. I also have so many regrets after reading that page.”-

What is playing through Number 6’s (and yours) head right now, as he gets himself into the proper weepy depressed mindset to fully appeal to Pop at his ‘lowest’ point. 5) “On what? Killing Koichi or evading Knuckleduster? It would be actually hilarious if you were for real in this whole “I want a normal life now” thing like if you lost your memories in that fight or some shit but I doubt that`s the case, I don`t trust you now you fucking asshole I can`t believe you tricked me like that I thought you were your younger brother.”- I think he honestly was being serious about the desire to have something that’s ‘his’ in his life. Something real, tangible, that he earned or made through his own honest effort and genuine skills, but the problem is that he doesn’t know how to do any of that without aping other people to achieve the same results, and that in turn only makes him come off as false despite his sincere desire, leading to him having a bit of a temper problem when his attempts to ‘make his mark’ in the world doesn’t come to fruition, like the Sky Egg bombing. 6) “Pop please what the fuck is that face you`re doing there”-  Concerned pity whilst trying not to come off as too concerned for them in case they take it the wrong way.

7) “Oh- Oh I noticed that Pop, and I think he noticed it as well. That step back from him was quite obviously a “yeah, sorry, but no”

I guess his plan was bound to fail anyway, Pop would never fall for anyone but Koichi, he can`t use her to get close to him.”-  Well, in this case, it’s more that he was using Koichi, or rather, an idealised impression of him, to get to her, but even he can see the writing on the wall about his odds there, even if it clearly frustrates him that he can’t get what about Koichi everybody else likes that he doesn’t have.

8) “Oh what the fuck now he really looks like McBee, is like he ended up slipping and his face reverted back to what it is normally like- except by the creepy grin and the scar across the face.”- Genuine expression of confusion, sadness, and a little heartbreak, because he gave it his best shot and it didn’t work, and for a guy to go to that amount of prep work and still fail is very aggravating for him, especially since it seems like no matter how hard he plans or prepares, everything he does never turns out the way he wants it to. 9) “Oh! I liked to hear that Pop! That was actually amazing to hear! You wanted to show yourself that you were worth, not Koichi. The First and most important person who you need to prove yourself is yourself, never forget that.”-  I think perhaps that is Nomura 6’s greatest failing – that he looks for validation in others because he feels incapable of giving it to himself, not helped by his masters clearly not being interested in his interpersonal struggles and psychological issues so long as he gets the job done. Even when the lesson is spelled out to him he just doesn’t get it, despite desiring the end result all the same. 10) “IS SHE- IS SHE GOING TO SAY IT?

IS SHE GOING TO TALK TO KOICHI NOW?! WHAT?

NO WAY

FURUHASHI IS BAITING ME WITH A CARROT AGAIN ISN`T HE?”- Yes. The real question is, did you fall for it again?

11) “Are you guys really his friend or are you just here to rub salt on the wound? Well, I mean, yeah sure that`s what friends are like, but still, try to be a bit considerate when mocking him, you need to try to cheer him at the same time you mock.”-They get right onto that next bit, but it does tragically indicate that despite their flaws, the fantasy boys genuinely had come to see Nomura as a somewhat friend, and were willing to take him out for a night of drinking his sorrows away whilst giving him relationship advice. Sadly, 6 has decided that if being nice won’t get him what he wants, he’ll have to be naughty….

12) “Oof that`s gonna leave a stain, if only we had a janitor around here to clean this mess… Right…?”- Janitor’s on sabbatical. Return, uncertain. Status, undecided. Situation, screwed, unless Koichi gets really good at trash cleanup really quickly…

13) “OH BOY ARE WE SERIOUSLY GOING TO JUMP FROM ONE BOMB TO ANOTHER LIKE THAT? IS FURUHASHI TRYING TO TRICK ME AGAIN? I WASN`T EVEN THAT SURPRISED WITH THE REVELATION SINCE I SAW IT COMING FROM TEN LIGHT-YEARS AWAY BUT ARE THEY SERIOUSLY GOING TO TALK THINGS OVER AND SETTLE THIS ONCE AND FOR ALL?!”- Well, they could have, if Koichi hadn’t opened his big fat mouth at the wrong time. If he had a time machine, I’d bet this conversation is where he’d come back to if he could…

14) “Alright, okay, that`s a fancy tie, and it suits you, that`s good, you look really formal in it my kid. My they grow up so fast… Anyway, now can we get back to pop confessing her love? Pretty please?”- If only he could have held back on where he’d gotten that tie from for a few seconds more…. Instead, it became a noose that strangled Pop’s confidence into non-existence.

15) “DAMN YOU KOICHI! DAMN YOU TO HELL!”- For a hero to be recognisable as a human being, they must have flaws and faults in their demeanour that lower them to the level of fallible mortal, to make them empathic to the reader. It is darkly ironic that Koichi’s own unaddressed flaws with recognising romance in other people have completely undone Pop’s sincere efforts to correct her own flaws without knowing it, and therefore appropriate that they indirectly push Pop into a level of danger neither of them are ready for…

16) “OH GOD PLEASE NO HE`S THE LAST PERSON THAT WE NEED IN HERE RIGHT NOW POP OH GOD NO MY HEART NO NO NO NO”- When the ‘real’ Koichi let her down, it makes sense Pop would turn to the ‘ideal’ version of him for comfort.

17) “NO IT`S NOT GOING TO BE FINE THIS WHOLE THING COLLAPSED LIKE A HOUSE OF CARDS IN THE DANCE FLOOR OF A CLUB YOU STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER YOU PSYCHO”- The irony of Nomura 6 ‘winning’ by chapter’s end because he diligently did the one thing Koichi never did- pay attention to Pop and understand her innermost thoughts- is a harsh one, but it’s undeniable that he did earn the trust she’s showing him, however much of a bad idea it is…

18) “So, McBee is back again apparently, and I guess whatever he was doing those previous two years weren`t that important or anything, nor where Knuckle was in the meantime. The instant villains apparently just stopped, which means that he probably was away from that time, or at least tried to lay low so Knuckle wouldn`t find him, but this whole thing is still suspicious…”- It would seem that the VF gained enough data from their experiments to lie low whilst they consolidated their findings, and whilst No:6 is waiting for their next orders, he’s indulging in some interesting ‘side-hobbies’ sparking by his confrontation with Knuckleduster, aiming to find out what he lacks compared to his apprentice on both a heroic and social showing, to ‘prove’ he’s better than him. That said, he sees to have genuinely gotten into it enough that he honestly enjoyed the fake life and relationship he was building, not unlike Twilight, but unfortunately, that was an identity constructed from a pack of lies, and they crumbled when the honest truth came out. Here’s hoping twilight’s masquerade can last a little longer so he winds up being more ‘genuine’ when the inevitable time for the reveal of everything comes. @thelreads

#bnha vigilantes #bnha #my hero academia #thelreads #chapter replies #vigilantes 70

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Quick question sorry if this has been asked before: do you know any Johnlock fanfic where they’re extremely sensual? Like not just making love but just super methodically drawn out and slow and sweet?

Hi Nonny!!

Ahh, because of this ask, I went through my bookmarks to see if I have any listed with “sensuality” so that’s what this list is!! It definitely doesn’t have all of my fics because I have to go back through them and tag them, but in the meantime, enjoy what I started tagging a few months ago when you sent me this ask, LOL <3

As always, add your own fics here, Lovelies!!

SENSUALITY

See also:

Emotional Love Making || [MOBILE POST]

Emotional Love Making Pt. 2

Loved. by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 1,231 w., 1 Ch. || First Sherlock POV, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nose Kisses, Morning After, Love Confessions, Morning Cuddles, Emotional Sherlock, Sentiment, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock reflects on his relationship with John. Part 5 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Morning Sunlight by slashscribe (E, 3,565 w., 1 Ch. || PWP, Morning Sex, Fluff, PWP, Established Rel., Soft Idiots) – A thin band of soft morning light peeks between the curtains and stretches across John’s torso, laying dormant across his forearm, dipping into the space between his arm and his chest, illuminating his right nipple but just brushing the edge of his left, disappearing into his armpit, and reappearing again right over Sherlock’s eyes where his head rests, nestled against John’s shoulder. Sherlock is not annoyed by the light’s intrusion on his sleep, not when it rests so soft and tantalizing on John’s skin, a work of unintentionally erotic art. A PWP with so much emotion.

Living Musical by VeeTheRee (G, 4,149 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Hobbies, Summer, Song Fic, POV Sherlock, Painting, Play Fighting, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Love Declarations, Hair Petting, Promise of Forever) – A one-shot of John and Sherlock being domestic during summer. There is paint, fluff, and music from Imagine Dragons, namely from the album 'Speak To Me', specific song in this one-shot is 'Living Musical'. Part 1 of the Happy Fluffy Johnlock Time series

London Gods by a_different_equation (E, 11,092 w., 5 Ch. || American Gods Fusion || Magical Realism, Sex Magic, True Love, PTSD John, First Kiss/Time, Marathon Sex, Sensuality, Genie Sherlock, Human John, Internalized Homophobia, Star-Crossed Lovers, Soul Mates) – Sherlock Holmes is a jinn who does not grant wishes. However, when Dr. John H. Watson, recently returned from the war in Afghanistan, gets into his cab by "accident", it might not even need magic to grant both men their deepest wish: love.

To be loved by Strange_johnlock (E, 12,436 w., 8 Ch. || Post S3, Established Relationship, First Person POV Sherlock, Pet Names, Soft Sherlock, Mild ADHD, Protective John, Captain Watson, Body Appreciation, Bottomlock, Rough Sex, Travelling for Holidays, Introspection, Sherlock Loves John So Much It Hurts) – John is so deeply integrated into the work, both as my conductor of light, and as a great shot with a vicious right hook who tackles men -and women- no matter their size all in my defense. He protects me with all he can without question, and this loyalty is surely more than I deserve. Or: Sherlock is counting his blessings.

The Invocation of Saint Margaret by Ewebie (E, 15,831 w., 1 Ch. || POV John,  Crossing Timelines, Light Angst, Fluff, Series 3 John / Series 1 Sherlock, The Matchbox, Mushy Romance, First Time, Bisexual John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Sensuality, Emotional Love Making, Snippets of Time) – When Sherlock Holmes opens the matchbox from The Sign of Three and John finds himself years in the past, back to that first dinner at Angelo's with a much younger Sherlock Holmes. Is he dreaming?

Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch. || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Big Feelings, Crying, First Kiss, Fluff, Anxious Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Emotional Communication, Love Confessions) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (E, 20,004 w., 6 Ch. || Retirement, Sussex, Bees, Home Improvement, First Time, Romance) – Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing. They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you're living to find the life you want. Part 1 of Through The Clouds

How To Unfold a Heart by elwinglyre (E, 25,477 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, BAMF John, Mentioned Eurus, POV First Person Sherlock, Case Fic, Fluff, Slow Burn, Topping from the Bottom, 3 Yr Old Rosie, Introspection, Sexual Fantasies, John Worship, Ogling, Hand Holding, Kidnapping, Domesticity, Sherlock Whump, First Kiss/Time, Doctor John, Caring John, Soft Sherlock, Sensuality, Touching, Crying, Love Confessions, Anxious Sherlock, Rimming, Toplock, Fingering, Bossy Bottom John) – To Sherlock’s dismay, John’s return to Baker Street with Rosie is only temporary. Sherlock’s daily visits to Regent Park with John and Rosie illuminate his lost childhood memories and missed opportunities. But with each trip to the park, Sherlock also feels a growing sense of hope. That is until the past horrors return unexpectedly in a cryptic note folded in the shape of a heart. To decipher the message, Sherlock must uncover the nature of the hearts around him, including his own.

Lucifer's Gardens by ampersand_ch (E, 32,679 w., 12 Ch. || GERMAN VERSION || Romance, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Murder, Poison / Drugging, Mystery, John Undercover, Academic Club, Therapy, Rituals, Jungian Archetypes, Doctors & Physicians, Grief/Mourning, Esotericism, Hospitals, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, John Falls In Love With Another Man, Jealous Sherlock, Crying, Doctor John, Hand Holding, First Kiss/Time, Mysticism, Hugging, Touching) – John goes undercover for an investigation as a favour to Lestrade in a village in Suffolk. The events surrounding the case awaken deep-seated fears in Sherlock. While John begins to come to a realisation of what he needs in Lucifer's Gardens, Sherlock tries to find a way to reach John – in more ways than one.

A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w., 7 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #sensuality #soft sherlock #soft john #Anonymous

[youbloodymadgenius]

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 1

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello’s masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite, who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310, @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria. Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 1806

Additional note: I'm afraid I'll disappoint some of you. No more newspapers... The articles defined the setting of the story. From now on, it'll be a regular fic.

Hope you enjoy it nevertheless 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

June 2021

Ivar yawns, rubbing his eyes, when he suddenly hears the front door open. The next moment, Ubbe shouts, "Hey baby bro, we're home!"

Slightly confused, Ivar looks at the time on his computer. Stunned, he blinks repeatedly, shakes his head and checks the time again, now looking at his watch. "Guess I lost track of time," he mumbles as he realizes it's really 5:30 pm. He clears his throat. "I'm coming!"

Yawning once more, he wheels to the kitchen. Hvitserk waves at him with one hand as Ubbe greets him with a grin and Sigurd... Well, Sigurd ignores him, as usual.

"Hello boys!" Lagertha smiles as she also enters the kitchen. "Did you go to the beach this afternoon?" It's a rethorical question, since sand can be seen on the tanned skin of his brothers, shirtless and wearing only swimming shorts.

When she looks down at him, her smile becomes softer. "Ivar, you seem tired. Did you work all day long?"

He nods, glad that for once she called him by his first name and not by one of those stupid nicknames that she likes but that make his skin crawl.

"Yep," he shrugs without smiling back, "I made good progress. The new version of your website is almost done. It could probably be online by the end of the week."

His stepmom flashes him a beaming smile. "Great, thanks!"

The conversation then moves on to the subject that everyone in Kattegat has been talking about for the last few days: the midsummer party thrown by their neighbor Harald Hårfager. Every June, it is Kattegat's not-to-be-missed event, to which every resident hopes to be invited.

Lagertha is invited every year, yet rarely attends; his brothers wouldn't miss it, not in a million years; Ivar never went.

He listens with half an ear as his brothers prattle on about the upcoming party, while taking a seat at the large, wooden kitchen table on which Lagertha has just put cakes and drinks.

"What are you going to wear?"

"Do you think Marit will attend this year?"

"Hopefully the music will be better than last year."

"Can't be as bad! What was the name of that reggae band?"

For a fleeting moment, Ivar entertains the thought of attending as well. Not that he's dying to, but… Sometimes, he feels a little bit like Cinderella in this house.

Don't get him wrong, it's not that bad.

First, his stepmom is not–

Wait, wait, wait, is Lagertha technically his stepmom? He's not sure. After all, she wasn't when his parents were alive, she was just his father's first wife. Anyway, she may be his guardian now, but he sees her as his stepmom and he honestly doesn’t give a shit if it's a little weird.

Where was he? Oh yes, Cinderella.

So obviously, Lagertha is not a wicked, haughty and abusive stepmom like this Lady Tremaine of the fairytale.

Actually, even if it pisses him off to admit it, she's pretty nice, patient and composed. Does he love her? Let's not exaggerate – he doesn't. She may love him though, which is a little bit uncanny, if he's being honest. He was the favorite son of her nemesis. Shouldn't she hate him? He would, if the situation was reversed.

The truth is, when he was younger, he tried, he really tried to hate her, blaming her for everything and anything. When too much pain prevented him from sleeping, he let his imagination run wild. There, bound to his bed of suffering, he could see Lagertha cutting the brakes on his mother's car, causing her crash, causing her death.

Of course, even then, he knew deep down that Lagertha had not killed his mother; that the story he told himself was just the product of his endless nights of insomnia. But what can he say? He needed this. Because blaming Lagertha rather than admitting that his beloved mother was at fault – by being distracted, or by falling asleep, he'll never know – was easier for the heartbroken boy he was.

Anyway... So yes, Lagertha is definitely not an evil stepmother like Cinderella's.

Also, he doesn't sleep on a sorry garret, on a wretched straw bed either.

Actually, he has a very large room on the main floor, with a king-size memory foam bed, a walk-in – well, a wheel-in for his case – closet and his own, huge bathroom, fully equipped for his special needs.

Sure, the bathroom and the dressing room were already there when his parents were alive; however, the memory foam mattress had been Lagertha's idea.

Anyway... So yes, he can't exactly complain about his sleeping conditions, unlike Cinderella.

And obviously, he's not forced into servitude.

Actually, one might think so, but no, he's not. Sure, sometimes he works for his stepmom, like today. But so do his brothers. When she had taken them in, she was a powerful businesswoman, working twelve to fourteen hours a day. Once she had become their guardian, she had rearranged her working time and learned to delegate; but even so, she had often run out of time. Therefore, it had seemed normal to them – yes, even to him – to help her out, each of them according to their skills and abilities.

So, while Hvitserk almost always does the grocery shopping, while Sigurd vacuums and does the laundry, while Ubbe mows the lawn and trim the bushes, he, Ivar, runs her company's website and sometimes even does the accounting. And since he loves computers and numbers, it's not exactly a problem.

Anyway... So yes, he's not a slave in this house. Unlike Cinderella.

So, yes, to sum it up, he can't really complain and he's by far not Cinderella. And he knows it.

But... Yes, there's a but...

Sometimes, he feels trapped, as poor Cinderella must have felt.

Sometimes he feels like a spectator of a life he doesn't belong to.

Sure, he doesn't have to be homeschooled – but gods, he's glad he is. The reasons for him to be continuously bullied by classmates are endless. The simplest ones being: he is a cripple, an orphan, the son of a dead mob boss, the smartest one in the whole damn school, let alone his class. Take your pick. It's no fun, no fun at all. Being home alone is preferable to that alternative.

Therefore, barely leaving the house except for medical appointments, he has no friends. He doesn't do sports either – obviously – and yeah, he lives a lonely life, filled with video games and Netflix series. And he's okay with that. Well, most of the time.

Sure, his brothers, or at least Ubbe and Hvitserk, always try to include him as much as possible. But the truth is that because of his legs, there are many, many things he just can't do.

And the other truth, the less pleasant one, is that he partially did that to himself. He cut himself off from a world that hurt him, yet he still misses this world sometimes. At times, he blames himself. Because his life, honestly, is hardly what you would call a life, is it? Not when you're sixteen.

That's why sometimes, like now, he feels this longing, almost a need, to live. To really, truly, fully live. And that's why, for a brief moment, lulled by the light chitchat of his brothers, he considers attending Harald's midsummer party.

But he knows better. This life is not for him, never has been, never will be.

And so, shaking his head, he chases the thought away and, placing his hands on his push rims, he's about to leave the kitchen while the incessant babbling of his brothers goes on.

"I can't wait."

"Don't tell me! As every year, the most beautiful girls of Kattegat will be there."

"Remember that burger food truck? Best burgers ever!"

"I've heard Y/N would be attending this year."

"There'll be booze and girls! Sounds like Valh–"

Wait. His mind goes blank.

Fuck.

What? Did he hear right?

As he replays his brother's words in his head, it's like there's an earthquake happening inside of him.

Fuck.

He stops breathing. Blinks, then clamps his eyes shut.

Fuck.

When he finally manages to draw air into his lungs, he swallows loudly before asking in a weird, high-pitched voice, his heart pounding in his chest, "What– What did you say, brother?"

Hvitserk turns his head toward him and shrugs. "I just said there'll be boo–"

"No, not you!" Ivar snaps at his brother, pointing his pointer finger at Ubbe. "You, what did you fucking say?" Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Lagertha frowning – 'no curse words in this house, boys'– and even if he barely contains an eye roll, he still mouths a quick 'sorry' at her before rewording his question, impatience coursing through him. "What did you say, dear brother? Who did you say would attend?"

Stunned, Ubbe looks at him with wide eyes. "Y/N? I said Y/N would come. That's what I heard anyway. She's Harald's niece. She was here once, right? Remember her, baby bro, huh?"

But Ivar is no longer listening, the blood draining from his face. Y/N... Y/N... Fuck. Finally. Fucking finally. After so long... He may see you again. Wow.

I'll go! I'll fucking go!

He barely contains the words, suddenly acutely aware of the deafening silence in the room, his brothers shamelessly staring at him.

With her brows furrowed and her lips turned downward in a slight frown, Lagertha takes two steps forwards before crouching down in front of him. "Are you all right, sweetie? You're a little pale."

He barely hears when Sigurd giggles, "A little pale? He's greener than an alien!"

Lagertha shoots Sigurd a dirty look and then gently cups Ivar's cheek. "Do you know her, Ivar? Do you know Y/N?"

Overwhelmed, self-conscious, freaked out, caught off-guard, he doesn't know how to respond. Should he tell the truth? Should he lie? His brothers will mock him, for sure. What is the point of telling the truth? What good would it do? On the other hand, he could really use some advice. Yeah. Sure. Advice from Sigurd. Just the thought of it is enough to make him sick. Fuck, what is he going to do?

Rushed words are out of his mouth before he can even gather his thoughts. "No. No. I don't. I mean, yes, I think I do but–" He's being pathetic and he hates it. So after a sharp intake of breath, he shakes his head and eventually replies in a flat, calm voice, the white lie rolling off his tongue. "I know her, but I thought Ubbe was talking about someone else. Sorry."

With these words, he hastily leaves the room, his eyes riveted on his knees, his heart still drumming in his chest.

Y/N. Fuck.

🛡⚔️🛡

Ivar's taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings

#ivar #modern ivar #modern!ivar #modern-ivar #modern ivar x reader #modern!ivar x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar imagine #ivar fic #ivar fanfic #ivar fanfiction #ivar vikings #vikings ivar #cherrypie’s500 #fairytale retelling #ivarello

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Non-Sequential [Ch. 29]

Pairing: Pre-Serum Steve Rogers/Steve Rogers x Reader

One night, Steve Rogers met a beautiful dame named Y/N. He hadn’t intended on letting her get away. But fate had other ideas. Y/N appeared and disappeared in his life so hauntingly that Steve started to wonder if she was an angel meant to watch over him.

Word Count: 2,500

Chapter 28

The next 5 years simultaneously felt like they were moving too fast and too slowly.

Steve wondered if there would be limited visits from Y/N or if this was the rest of his life: just holding onto the past and praying that the next time she would stay for good.

But he knew that would never happen.

She would always leave.

Steve felt like he had returned to his teenage years when Y/N had first started visiting him. But watching her go now hurt a 100 times worse than back then. During that time, he hadn’t acknowledged that he loved her. He didn’t know what it was like to fully have her. 

What he would give to regain that naivety. He didn’t know how much longer he could handle such torture.

When Y/N did visit the present, Steve tried to seize it as much as he could. He tried to act normal, wait for Y/N to ask the questions so he could figure out what she knew and what she didn’t. By some miracle, she always knew about the snap.

Steve felt lucky, he wouldn’t know how to handle her naivety to how she would die. Nat always told him he was a terrible liar. He could only assume lying to the woman he loved would be even worse.

Steve was sitting at his window, staring out at Brooklyn. There was a steaming cup of coffee in his hand and he was waiting for it to cool down. The sun had just rose past the horizon. Most of the city was still sleeping. He started to enjoy watching it slowly wake up. It was one of the very few joys he found these days.

“Steve?” Her voice whispered from behind him.

He jumped at the sound, shooting to his feet and turning around.

In the process, he spilled some of the coffee on his hand and bare feet.

He hissed at the burn.

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry!” Y/N rushed forward.

Steve was both so surprised to see her and feel the boiling liquid on his skin that he didn’t realize Y/N was still completely naked.

“I’m fine. It’s OK.” He tried to tell her, only looking into her eyes.

One time Sam asked about the binding nudity that came with Y/N’s time traveling. He asked about it in a way that wasn’t really a question, but like he clearly wanted Steve to comment on it.

“Just so we’re clear, you’re asking what I think about my girlfriend being forced to be naked when she’s also forced to time travel at any given moment to a place she doesn’t know? Did I get that right?” He’d said it with the classic Steve Rogers sass.

But Sam got the point and never brought it up again.

Y/N’s nudity wasn’t something sexualized by Steve. He’d grown used to it. He assumed most people saw their naked wives and girlfriends, and only linked it to sex. But all it did for Steve was remind him of Y/N’s vulnerability.

Her skin was unprotected from the elements. That’s why she had almost frozen to death during the first time she ever traveled.

Her skin attracted unwanted attention. Steve would never forget when Y/N appeared at his military camp, standing innocently in front of an army that hadn’t felt a woman’s touch or seen a female body in months. He didn’t like to think what could’ve happened if Bucky hadn’t been there to look out for her.

Her skin reminded Steve that even though she didn’t don a uniform, there was still something about her that forced her to be different from the world – just like him.

Now her skin told Steve that she was much younger. 

There was no scar from getting shot during the Battle at the Triskelion, a scar on her abdomen from the medical team at the compound digging out a bullet. Then there were the scars that should’ve been scattered across her skin from when she was tortured by Hydra. Thanks to Wakandan medicine, they were almost invisible. But Steve was familiar enough with Y/N’s body that he could still just barely point them out. Those were nowhere to be seen either.

Which meant that the Y/N standing in front of Steve was from a much younger time.

“Did we…did we break up?” Y/N’s lip trembled as her eyes filled with tears.

Steve stepped forward. “What? Why would you think that?”

Her eyes looked around the room. “None of my stuff is here. It doesn’t even look like I live here.”

But it was true. There was hardly any personality to his Brooklyn apartment. Anyone that knew Y/N would expect her apartment to be filled with warmth, and the perfect lighting, and everything that made a home intimate and charming.

“Steve, did we break up?” Y/N’s voice shook as she repeated the question.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks and Steve couldn’t handle it anymore.

He closed the distance between them and pulled her into his body.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he muttered. “It’s OK. We didn’t break up.”

At least he didn’t technically have to lie about that.

She pulled away from being tucked into his body to look at his face. “What is this place?” It was still obvious she didn’t exist in this space.

“We just bought it,” Steve was quick on his feet. “It came furnished and we haven’t moved all of our stuff in yet.”

Y/N seemed to believe him. “Where am I?”

“You’re away on a freelance job.”

She nodded, processing the new information.

“Would you like some clothes?” He asked her gently.

Y/N laughed lightly, apparently having forgotten that she was fully naked. 

She sniffled, trying to clear her nose and nodded.

A few minutes later, Y/N was in Steve’s sweats, sitting at his kitchen island with her own coffee cupped between her palms.

“I’m sorry – again – that I scared you into spilling coffee on yourself,” she winced.

Steve chuckled. “Y/N, believe it or not, I’ve suffered much worse injuries than hot coffee burns.”

“Right,” she smiled. “You’ve just casually been shot a few times and survived a plan crash.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Amongst other things.”

“Amongst other things,” Y/N agreed and repeated back.

A peaceful silence settled between them.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “You know, I don’t believe you.”

“About the hot coffee?”

“About us not being broken up,” Y/N confirmed.

Steve just tightened his jaw. He didn’t know how much more he could lie to her.

Y/N slowly stood up and closed the distance between them. When she was in his space, she carefully reached up to brush his cheek with her thumb.

“Your eyes… they’re so sad. And they get even sadder every time you look at me.”

“We’re on a break,” Steve quickly told her. He hoped a half lie would save him.

Y/N nodded. And he knew that she believed that one.

She opened her mouth to ask more.

“Please, don’t ask me to say more about it,” Steve begged.

Y/N just nodded.

But then she stepped even closer to him. “Do you miss me?” She whispered as her gaze flickered down to his lips.

Steve’s chest hurt from the question alone. Present and future Y/N had never prepared him for having interactions like this.

He just nodded his head, knowing that if he tried to say actual words then he’d just let out some pathetic whimper.

Y/N leaned even closer. Her gaze flickered to his, silently asking him if he wanted her to stop.

But Steve didn’t have that sort of self control.

So Y/N kissed him.

And he felt her surprise when he responded with a hunger she didn’t expect.

Without hesitation, he pulled her closer. But it still wasn’t enough. Then his hands slid down the outside of her thighs and then gripped the back of them. He scooped her up and pulled her hips to his waist, holding her there until she realized she needed to wrap her legs around him. But it still wasn’t enough.

He pulled away from the kiss. “Do you want me to stop?” His words struggled while he also tried to catch his breath.

Y/N gave him a shy smile and shook her head before giving him a sweet and precise peck on the lips.

“No, I don’t.” Then she laughed, “But maybe we could move this to the bedroom.”

Even if she wasn’t his in this time period, Y/N still knew what Steve needed. And she was more than willing to give it to him. 

——————————

Steve always got this guilty feeling after sleeping with a version of Y/N that wasn’t her present self. No matter how many times Y/N told him it wasn’t, Steve could always convince a part of his mind to believe he had cheated.

Y/N had fallen asleep so quickly. It didn’t matter that she was out of her time. She always felt safe with Steve.

Meanwhile, Steve wouldn’t allow himself a second of sleep. He wasn’t going to waste a moment with Y/N by not being awake. How could he?

Instead he held her naked body against his chest. He switched back and forth between tracing the line of her spine to thumbing circles on her shoulder.

The more time he spent without Y/N in his present, the harder it was to watch her other selves leave him.

He glanced at the clock on his nightstand and sighed. He had to go to his group therapy in a few hours.

If Y/N was still here by then, he’d skip it. Lie and tell them he was sick. 

Those sessions made him feel like a mockery anyway. At least once a week, he sat in a circle and told people they needed to move on with their lives. Meanwhile, he was still in a relationship with his dead girlfriend. She was a ghost that haunted him. He lectured other people how to live their lives in a post-snap world when he couldn’t go a minute without hoping a future or past Y/N would visit him soon.

Steve was taken out of his thoughts when Y/N stirred next to him.

She wasn’t waking up; she was leaving. 

He saw her body start to fade.

There was nothing he hated seeing more than watching Y/N travel.

Was she going back to her own present? Was she going somewhere else? Would she be safe? Would this be one of her trips where she got hurt or almost killed?

And then, just like that, Y/N was gone. And Steve was alone once again.

Steve hoped his sheets would smell like her for longer than they did last time.

He should probably shower before he went to group, but he didn’t want to lose the feeling of her on his skin. He just wanted it to linger, if that was even possible.

That’s when he decided he needed more than a talk with a group of strangers. He needed a friend – a real friend – who knew what he was actually going through.

——————-

Steve hated going to the compound since the snap.

It was like going to a haunted house.

He never knew what memories would be resurrected when he visited.

Sometimes it was just the way the sun lit the room for a second or he’d catch a certain smell, then he was suddenly thrust into a memory linked to Y/N.

Steve found Nat in tears. 

It was subtle, but it still broke his heart to see her upset. She was the strongest of them all. If she couldn’t hold it together, that’s when the rest of them truly knew how bad things really were.

“Ya know, I’d offer to cook you dinner, but you seem pretty miserable already.”

“You here to do your laundry?” She teased, trying to hide that she’d lost her composure for even a second.

“And to see a friend,” he added.

“Clearly your friend is fine.”

“What if your friend is the one that’s not?” He offered.

Her forced smirk faltered. “She show up today?”

Steve sighed and nodded. “She thought we broke up. It took one look around my apartment to know she didn’t live there.”

“You’re a terrible liar, so I could only imagine how that went.”

“Well, I eventually got her to believe we were just on a break, instead of telling her that she was…”

“Dead?” Nat offered.

Steve’s jaw just tightened at the word. He moved to sit across from her.

“It’s the first time she didn’t know about it. And now I’m wondering if I prefer the version of her that doesn’t know what's going to happen to her.”

Nat just hummed, understanding what he meant.

Steve’s eyes glazed over as he thought about it. “How was she able to just live every day knowing what was going to happen?”

“She had to learn to accept what she couldn’t control awhile ago, Steve. She didn’t have any other choice.”

“Why couldn’t she tell me?” He thought aloud, frustration clear in his voice.

“Because she knew you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You would’ve made yourself crazy trying to stop what you couldn’t. Nothing else would’ve mattered...including her.” Nat sighed. “Maybe she just wanted to embrace what little time she had with you. She can ignore the ticking of a time bomb, but not you.”

Steve knew Nat was right.

Suddenly, there was a ping and a hologram appeared in front of Nat.

She pressed a few buttons in the air and a video played out.

Next thing they knew, Scott Lang was fumbling his words at the front gate’s security camera.

Steve slowly stood up. Scott Lang was meant to be dead. “Is this an old message?”

“It’s the front gate,” Nat told him.

An hour later, Scott had stopped his pacing and explained his time travel theory.

Steve looked at Nat and immediately knew that she didn’t find Scott as crazy as he did.

But Nat had been searching for hope these past 5 years, while Steve refused to let it into his life.

“Tomorrow we’ll go see Tony,” Steve confirmed. “For now, you should get some rest, Scott.” Then he looked at Nat. “We all should.”

That was code for, ‘Don’t get excited.’

She clearly got the underlying message, but refused to ignore the hope.

—————————

Steve walked into his old room at the compound. He was only ever there when he visited Nat, which wasn’t often at all. He only kept some things there because he saw the hurt in Nat’s eyes when he had once suggested he completely clean it out.

When he turned on the light, he immediately noticed an envelope on the nightstand.

It was a letter addressed to him at the compound.

But Steve’s heart raced when he recognized the writing as Y/N’s.

“FRIDAY, where did this letter come from?” He asked the AI.

“It arrived in the mail today, Captain Rogers.”

He ripped it open instantly, his hands shaking in the process.

But there were only three words for him to read:

Listen to Scott.

Steve felt his heart beat faster.

And for the first time in 5 years, he felt hope.

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

Ya’ll, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. 

#non-sequential #non-sequential series #non-sequential chapter 29 #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers reader insert #pre-serum!steve rogers #pre serum steve #pre-serum steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #captain america fic #steve rogers angst #pre-serum!steve rogers x reader

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Phantom Children Ch. 6

Hi guys! I'm back <3 (also, I'm currently looking for alpha/beta readers for Phantom Children, so if you're interested, feel free to shoot me a message!)

In Which: Danny Attempts to get Answers, Bruce Learns, and Dick Finally Learns What's Inside the Door that Doesn't Exist

AO3 | Prologue | 5 | [ 6 ] | 7

DANNY IS KNOCKED DOWN three, four, eight times on the ice. Each time made his back ache, his bones bruised and tired, and his mind burning with embarrassment and a drive to lash out. But each time he gets back up. Each time he lasts a little bit longer against Talia.

The ice still shifts, cracks and rumbles with every wrong move. Danny learned to roll with it. Move on light feet but attack with a firm stance, gauge which parts of the ice are stable and which should be avoided. Multi-tasking has never been Danny’s strong suit, but he’s good at learning and learning quickly.

Talia corrected his form as much as she beat him down. Exploited every one of his openings until he learned to defend them and praised him whenever he managed to pull one over her. The League’s martial arts was the holy amalgamation between almost every single fighting style there is, mashed and refined to perfection to become almost unpredictable to the untrained. A vast improvement to Danny’s previous ‘fuck around and see what works’ brawling and had the added benefit of meshing together with his spontaneity.

“You are doing well, Daniel,” Talia said as she sheathed her sword, hand resting just above her hip. “You have improved greatly in such a short time, as I have expected.”

It takes every ounce of Danny’s superhuman energy to not collapse to his knees, his every breath a ragged shudder as he tries to get his breathing under control. “Still can’t beat you, though.”

“Very few can boast that feat.”

“I’m not exactly sure if that’s supposed to make me feel any better or not. Do I get my prize at least?”

Tahlia tossed her braid over one shoulder with a laugh. “Come, then, let us rest in the caves. The sun is to set soon and we must make camp before we freeze to death.”

“Hypothermia is so last season. I’m way too cool for that.”

He didn’t know whether to be disappointed that Tahlia didn’t react to his pun. It was pretty clever, in his opinion.

('Puns are the lowest form of comedy,' said mind-Jazz.

Says the one who named the Box Ghost the ‘Crate Creep.’

'That’s alliteration, not a pun.')

It was kind of pathetic that even his mind-version of Jazz was smarter than him.

“What would you like to know first?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sarcasm dripped from Danny’s voice. He sheathed his sword and let it hang loose at his side. “Maybe how old this mysterious brother of mine is?” Ancients, his life was weird enough already, it wasn’t supposed to sound like the B-plot to a bad soap opera.

“Damian is younger than you by a little over four years. He will turn eleven this year.”

“Huh. Never been an older brother before.”

“Perhaps you might have been, if circumstances had been different.”

Cryptic. Great. Danny stepped over a particularly large crack in the ice and scampered over to solid ground. “You gotta give me more than that. What’s he like?”

“Prideful,” she said. “But skilled enough to warrant it. He was raised like a prince—as how you should have been.”

“And he lives with…our dad?”

“Yes. In America.” The cave was deep enough to shield them from the worst of the eventual mountain winds. Tahlia had already started building a campfire with equipment from her knapsack, embers eating away and growing into a steady flame. He sat down, legs crossed, beside the fire, hands tucked beneath his armpits.

He bit his lip, a question forming in his mind. “Do…do we have the same dad?”

Tahlia looked up at him. “Of course. Only your father has had the privilege of being called my beloved, and only he is worthy enough to have sired my children.”

Once night fell, it fell quickly. Blanketing as far as Danny could see from the mouth of the cave in a thick darkness. Snow fell from the skies in thick tufts and covered their footsteps.

“Does he—do they know about me?”

“No, they do not.”

“And you probably aren’t going to tell them anything about me, if you could help it.”

“That is very perceptive of you, habeebi.”

“You won’t tell me anything more about them, will you?”

“In due time, I will.”

Danny blew part of his fringe away from his face. Figures.

Despite the ever-present niggling at the back of his mind, Bruce had yet to see what was in the flash drive. The weeks since his strange meeting with Vlad Masters suddenly exploded with criminal activity with the recent breakout in Arkham and the brewings of another gang war in the shadows of Gotham’s paved streets. It was all hands-on deck. And Bruce, whether as Batman or Wayne, had always prioritized Gotham and its citizens over anything else.

The flash drive remained on his person despite the crisis, tucked away in one of the sturdier compartments of his utility belt to prevent the data inside from becoming damaged. Sometimes he found his hands gravitating towards it, fingers brushing against the button that would release the mystery from its confines before he realized what he was doing and steeled himself. Hands fisted to his side and attention forcibly directed elsewhere.

Eventually, the rogues were placed back into Arkham, and Gotham let out a shuddered breath of relief as it remained standing for another day.

Most of the family were out on a light patrol, cleaning up the remains of the breakout and helping where they can. Jason and Dick bickering over the comms whilst Barbara laughed in her clocktower.

(“It’s not that bad.”

"‘It’s not that bad’—shut the fuck up.” Jason spat. Bruce could hear him revving his bike. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that? Certified Grade A idiot. B’s gonna kill you.”

He could hear Dick roll his eyes. “Sure, pile it all on, Jaybird. Blame the victim.”

"It was your fault.”

“It’s not my fault I didn’t see it there!”

"You tripped and got a concussion. From a stick. A. Stick.”

“Can we please just leave that out of the report?” Dick groaned. Barbara laughed. “Oh god.”

“Richard motherfucking John Grayson. I swear if you vomit on me then—”

“I’m not gonna vomit on you! You just turned the corner a little too fast. It’s nice to see you care though.”

"Fuck no, I just don’t wanna smell like regurgitated cereal.”)

Damian was benched from a patrol. Their last conflict with Poison Ivy ended with Damian sticking a bad landing and twisting his ankle. He dealt with it with as much grace as can be expected. Meaning that he spent the last few days sulking as he caught up on his missed schoolwork and shooting daggers at everyone else who came back from patrol.

Bruce flicked the flash drive open and plugged it into the computer. The flash drive contained only a single folder dated six months ago.

He clicked it, and a news headline popped up.

LOCAL TEEN DIES AFTER DRIVING OFF CLIFF

Beneath it, a picture. Blue eyes. Black hair. A familiar face.

Blood pounded in Bruce’s ears. He could hear nothing except a sharp gasp from Damian behind him.

When Dick and Jason arrived at the batcave, it was to an eerie silence. Not that it was usually loud, only that Bruce spent most of his free time down in the cave and Dick had come to expect hearing some signs of him around. Typing on keys, the clicking of a mouse, the heavy thuds of a fist meeting a punching bag or a training dummy, etcetera, etcetera. Or maybe even Alfred cleaning up around the cave, feeding the bats, or restocking their med bay.

(Dick, it turned out, didn’t have a concussion. Probably. Not a severe one anyway. What mattered most was that he managed to convince Jason to have dinner at the Manor. Alfred was making a tarte tatin for dessert tonight and those were absolutely to die for. )

One of Tim’s cases took him to the other side of Gotham. The only person in the cave was Damian, who was staring agape at the batcomputer.

“Why the hell is the demon spawn looking at old pictures of Bruce? We get it. They look alike.

“Uh, Dami? What’s up?”

Damian snapped his mouth shut. “I believe it might be best if you asked father that, Grayson.” Despite his clipped tone, there seemed to be little anger in his voice. His proud shoulders were hunched over on the chair, eyes trained on his lap.

He looked so small.

Damian clucked his tongue. “He’s upstairs, if you need him. So is Pennyworth.”

Dick shot a glance at Jason who raised his hands in mock surrender. “You’re up golden boy. Whatever the fuck the old man’s problem is this time, I’m not dealing with it.”

Dick sighed. “Fine.”

There was a door in Wayne Manor that didn’t exist.

When Dick was a child and recently adopted by Bruce Wayne, one of the first things he did was explore the manor. It’s the prerogative of every child that somehow found themselves in a large mansion—even more so given the castle-like exteriors of Wayne Manor. All castles have secret passages, and if the Batcave lay in the subterranean depths below, then surely the manor proper must have its own secrets.

Dick would tumble and cartwheel along the hallways, opening any and every single door he came across. A lot of them were just empty bedrooms or unused parlors and sitting rooms; the furniture covered by white sheets to keep the dust away. Alfred was probably magic, but even he can’t keep the entirety of the manor dust free.

The majority of the unused rooms were unlocked.

Except for one.

It was a room in the west wing, on the second floor. A couple doors down from where Bruce’s and Dick’s were. Why it was locked, Dick never found out. But he was curious since it was the only room on that floor that remained shut.

When he asked Alfred about it, the old butler only said that it was an unused storage room they preferred to keep locked just in case. When he asked Bruce about it, he’d be quick to change the subject. Usually something Batman related. Which, well, always worked, because it was Batman related. And Dick, young and spry and itching to fly under Batman’s wings, would quickly forget about that curious little mystery in favor of punching bad guys in the face and flipping over rooftops.

At some point that locked door quietly disappeared, leaving a blank expanse of wallpaper and a decorative vase where it once stood. It was never brought up again. And Dick slowly forgot that it was ever there in the first place.

Until now.

The wooden table and vase were shoved off to the side. Wallpaper sliced away to reveal the lines of a doorway. The door, covered in its faint damask wallpaper, was kicked open, the wood around the bolt splintered and cracked. He could hear voices—Alfred’s and Bruce’s—speaking softly on the other side.

He pressed his back against the wall and kept his breathing quiet.

“Three times, Alfred.” Bruce’s voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Three times she’s done this to me.”

“Master Bruce…”

“I don’t—I don’t understand why—” Bruce choked, swallowing a shuddered breath. “Damian, I can understand. Jason, I can too. But…This? I—” Bruce suddenly quieted. Dick knew the jig was up.

He unlatched himself from the wall and slowly slid through the once-hidden-door, a hand kept on the frame. “Um. Hi, Bruce? Alfred?” The words fell flat, stilted. Dick winced as he said them. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but, uh…” He trailed off the second he registered what was in the room.

It was large, as so many rooms in the manor were. The room was covered in peeling green wallpaper with faded pictures of baby deer and owls and other woodland creatures prancing about. There was a dresser on one wall. A shelf filled with little picture books and stuffed animals on the other. A brown teddy bear had fallen on its face on one of the shelves.

In the middle—where Bruce was hunched over—was a crib. The wood streaked and aged with time, the beddings within pristine and untouched, if not dusty. Hanging overhead was a mobile with little animals dangling on a string.

“Worry not Master Dick. It is good that you are here since it will inevitably involve the rest of the family at some point.”

Dick nodded absentmindedly, trying to lock eyes with his guardian. “B? What’s—what’s going on?” Dick took one step deeper into the room. “The pictures in the cave. I thought they were you since they were too old to be Damian—” Bruce’s hands on the crib’s railing flinched.

Dick’s breath hitched.

“They’re…not your photos, are they.”

Bruce took a deep breath in, the lines of his shoulders tense. “No. They’re not.”

In their line of work, the answer could have been anything. Clones, magical doppelgangers, alternate universe counterparts, hell, even just someone’s genetic code being coincidentally similar to another person. But…this room, this nursery, pointed towards only one conclusion.

“Who is he, Bruce?”

Bruce angled his head towards Dick, unshed tears glimmering in his eyes. “He’s my son, Dick.

“He’s my son.”

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #dp fic #phantom children.txt

[cluz1babe]

*** Episode 2 Chapter 4 (STSF) ***

Dean leaned back in the booth. “Since I have you here, can I ask you something?”

“I get the feeling you’re gonna ask me more than something.”

He smirked and continued, “Do you trust me?”

“That’s kind of...” She paused, “Yeah.”

“Why don’t you trust my brother?”

“Sam didn’t tell you?” She shifted and Dean could see the discomfort in her face. “We tried to— I tried to connect with him.”

“It didn’t turn out well.”

“What happened?”

“I saw things I probably shouldn’t have. Instead of those thoughts and feelings flowing back and forth between us, it was all coming from him and going into me. Couldn’t control it.”

“What’d you see?”

She closed her eyes and focused her breathing, bringing it all back to her memory. “There was this person—a man. No, not a man. He had these yellow eyes."

“You saw Azazel. Did you see what he did?”

“No, but I tasted it.”

“And the other times.”

"And everything else."

“There was so much. There was Hell."

"Then almost like he felt…nothing"

“…and he did things… I can’t really judge him based on those actions. And there were a few beautiful things."

“Did you see Lucifer?” Dean asked.

“Yes. He was beautiful.”

“Beautiful?”

Y/N thought of his radiant grace. “His true form was beautiful, but I could also feel the terror. The fact that he was beautiful is no comparison to that feeling.” She thought for a moment. “There were two others in the cage. One was an angel, but don’t know who the other was.”

“Yeah… His name was Adam.”

“Who was he?”

“Our brother. We were related through dad. Michael used him as a vessel and they ended up in the cage with Sam and Lucifer.”

“Oh...” Y/N tried to find anything else to look at. Why hadn’t they told her about any of this?

“I don’t feel like talkin’ about it right now.”

I guess that’s fair, considering I’ve only known them two and a half weeks, she thought.

“What about Cas? Why have you been avoiding him?” Dean questioned.

“I don’t know. I just don’t feel right around him.”

Dean thinks about it for a moment. “Let’s start with something small about you.”

“As in?”

“What’s your last name?

Y/N rolled her eyes. “How many times do I need to have this conversation before you believe me? I don’t know. Or I don’t have one... It’s difficult to find that information without an official document. I wasn’t born in a hospital.”

“You sayin’ you don’t know who your parents are?”

She sighed, “Actually, I don’t care.”

“How can you not care?”

“They decided to check out early and tried to take me with them. That’s how.”

This revelation was unexpected and Dean didn’t know what to say.

“Look, I don’t know anything relevant to my life before 1995.” She continued. "Can we have fun now?”

“Alright, fine. You tell me what you want to tell me.”

“I was raised in a group home."

"Sort of. Someone saved me from my parents' death trap.”

When his senses returned, he prodded her for more. “How old are you?” “I don’t know exactly how old I am, but I was somewhere between 3 and 5 in 1995. Stopped aging in 2016, I think. At least, enough to be noticeable.”

“So you’re in your 30s?”

Y/N shrugged, “Best guess. Only it’s not that simple. There are feelings, thoughts, languages...like memories, in my head. Stuff there's no way I would know if I’m only in my thirties. I often question if what I remember is real or if the other stuff is.”

“What are some of those memories?”

“Actually sounds like you might have a lot in common with Cas.”

"Do you remember what I showed you?” Y/N asked.

“Nothing specific. It all runs together like—“

“Indecipherable thoughts strung together.”

"Within an acid trip.”

"Yeah", she agreed.

Dean swallowed, "Just thinkin' about it makes me want another drink."

“Tell me something about you that know one knows.”

“Sam is the only person who knows almost everything about me and the things he doesn’t know are way too private to be telling anyone else.”

“So tell me something almost no one knows about you.” Y/N pressed after too many drinks.

“I had a daughter.”

Y/N stopped completely, and stared at Dean. “Had? What happened?”

“She was killed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s not the worst part.”

Dumbfounded, Y/N had to ask, “What could make that worse?”

“Sam’s the one who killed her.”

Y/N’s eyes were fixed to Dean’s trying to figure out if he was telling some morbid joke that she didn’t understand. “H-how—?”

“She was trying to kill me.”

Y/N was trying to imagine it in her head. Was she a toddler? 8? 13? Why was she trying to kill him? Maybe it was a possession? That doesn’t seem right. These guys can handle a possession, easily. Plus, they have an angel on their side. “I-I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say.

“I only knew her for a day. I slept with her completely non-pregnant mom. Three days later, she looked like she was 15 years old. Trying to kill me to be accepted into her tribe.”

The more he talked, the more confused Y/N felt, until he told her the full story.

There was a long silence before she finally spoke again.

“Shots!” She blurted out and left her third beer at the table. This conversation was making her uncomfortable. She wasn’t expecting someone like Dean to drop a bomb like that. She slid out of her side in the booth, as quickly as possible.

The band on stage started playing a cover of Led Zeppelin’s Dancing Days and an older gentleman at the bar grabbed Y/N’s hand. At first, Dean thought he was going to have to step in, but She went with him. He was leading her out to the floor in front the stage and started dancing. At first, she laughed, but the man insisted by continuing his dancing. She finally relented and began dancing with him.

There was a crooked smile on Dean’s face. He hadn’t seen her like this before. It was cute. He took a moment watching before he started to feel a pang of envy. He wanted to dance with her. Closer than this man was, though.

However, when Y/N turned to look at him, there was something about her that reminded him of Lisa. There was a different pang in his chest, and his smile was gone. What am I doing here with Y/N? She’s at least 10 years younger. Maybe 12.

When the song was over, She and Dean were laughing again. Maybe the liquor was helping him forget Lisa again. His phone buzzed and he checked it. He made a slight grin upon seeing the message.

“Your brother wondering what we’re up to?”

“No.”

“Castiel?”

It buzzed again. Same reaction. “Definitely not”, he said.

“Ah, you’re talking to a woman.”

“It’s a dating app. Sometimes I get random messages.” Another buzz. “This one’s a picture.”

“Ooh! Let me see.”

“No. When someone shares a picture, you keep it safe and secret. Hidden to the rest of the world. It’s the respectful thing to do.”

“Ask her if I can see it.”

“Why would I do that?” Dean asked, perplexed and also intrigued by the idea.

“You interrupted fun drinking and sharing time by bringing another woman. Even if it is via smartphone. I’d like to know who else it sitting at this table and what they have goin’ on. — Be sure to let her know I’m also into women.”

"Lookin' for a threesome?”

"Why not?”

After giving her a devilish smile, he sends an ask the other woman he's messaging. Dean then leaned in close to Y/N, placed his hand on her thigh, making sure his lips were close to her ear so she could hear him. "Are you trying hard to be naughty or are you just trouble?”

"I'm trouble all the time. Naughty on the side, and nasty late at night." She caught her dumb line and chalked it up to the alcohol. They both giggled. "I'm sorry. I've never been good with my words, especially when I'm tryin' to flirt.”

"It's okay. Maybe I can teach you." Dean caught her lips with his and the kiss quickly became heated, with his hand traveling up her leg and to her breast. Her hand was grazing his crotch, feeling him getting hard. Even right here in front of everyone, he might screw her. He couldn't understand this desire to be inside of her so badly. When his phone buzzed in a reply, he handed Y/N his phone.

She looked at him, impressed. “Wow. Not bad.”

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t get it, though.”

“What?”

“The lack of hair. One, I thought that was over by 2010. Two, I just don’t feel that comfortable with it.”

Y/N shrugged, “So don‘t fuck her.”

“Easier said than done.”

She scoffed, “Why does a woman’s personal choice about her body hair bother you at all?”

“Makes me feel like a sex offender.”

“Sounds like your personal problem.”

“Well, also her age.”

“What’s wrong with her age?” Y/N inquired.

“Too young.”

“Too young?”

“Too young. I need to find someone my own age and stop runnin’ around, you know?” Dean looked off into the distance.

“Settle down? You?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N laughed at him and replied with a smile, “Sure.”

*** EPISODE 1 ***

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

Part One - Episode Two

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2 

CHAPTER 3

PLAYLIST Ep 2 Ch 1-4

EXTRAS:

AO3

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

*** Strong Tongue and Slender Fingers *** (Here and AO3)

*** Alt Strong Tongue and Slender Fingers Smut Scenes *** (Here and AO3)

KLEE (Original Version) (Currently only on AO3)

Alt KLEE Smut (Currently only on AO3)

#fanfiction #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #castiel #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #strong tongue and slender fingers #playlist

[atxlxs]

Beyond The Veil: Chapter 5

The assessment test was pretty consistent.

Those that had the quirks suited for it at first glance had dominated while the rest all seemed to get variations of the same base score. Some slightly better, some slightly worse. This made it pretty easy for Muska to just, consistently get good scores.

When your quirk, *cough* and other things *cough*, essentially affects anything and everything as long as the energy itself isn’t being used by something else it becomes easy to just enhance everything.

Ball throw? More like sniper propulsion. Long jump? Ha, more like flying to the opposite side. Grip strength? She doesn’t even need to touch it. Just contract the energy surrounding the mechanism. Flexibility? She used to do ballet, like, a century ago but muscle memory counts.

She had some tests she couldn’t do well, like the endurance test. She was here to train her quirk after all. Plus the longer the tests went on the harder it was to continue. If she continued at the level she was doing, she’d have one hell of a headache. It was starting to hurt as well. Every time she tried to go over her limits, using the energy actually hurt so she’d rather avoid that.

By the end of it all, Muska had placed a solid 3rd place. Beating out Robocop and PomPom (Bakugo), looking down the list with curiosity, Muska cringed at Midoriya taking last place. The kid definitely couldn’t regulate the energy belonging to his quirk, which felt really weird whenever Muska looked into it, and had broken his finger on the ball throw. However, what she didn’t expect was the feeling of mirth coming off of Aizawa.

Wait a damn minute.

The fucker wouldn’t.

“It was a logical ruse to make you all perform at your best capabilities.”

The fucker did.

Now, even as the class started shouting once more that evening, Muska was highly focused on the man in front of her. That was a lie. He lied about it being a ruse. The energy had fluctuated just slightly when he said ruse, going from mirth to a hazy feeling. The indescribable experience one goes through when they white lie or bluff.

He was going to expel the person who came in last. Something changed that though. What the fu- Oh. Ooooh.

“...If you won’t take this seriously as the hero in training students you are…”

The bastard was judging our potential and disguised it as an assessment!

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

Rat-man hadn’t given Muska a map, either expecting her to ask someone to help or look at the map and guess. She would do neither. Asking for help would warn them beforehand and she might be waved off considering it was a staff meeting. Secondly, she just doesn’t want to.

Instead of her quirk, Muska closed her eyes and felt around the harmony. Surprisingly, the school was ‘clean’ for the most part. A few dark patches here and there but nothing horrendous. That was when she noticed it. A room towards the top of the fourth tower, left side in the back away from the gate, was filled with several aged energies. One of which seemed to be escaping slowly towards something else. That was weird, but definitely where she needed to be.

It took 10 minutes of dedication to get to the tower needed, and 10 more to not stab the principal on sight after she got up the stairs and walked over to a steel door that had a key code. Disregarding the key code box since she definitely didn’t know said code, she decided that knocking in the tune to “Crab Rave” was a good alternative.

The door opened before the first verse was done to a very confused woman in spandex. Giving her a smile, it definitely had an annoyed flair to it since she could be at home and forcing Eras to be cooking right now, Muska slipped past her and into the meeting room. The Rat-man stood on the large table, surrounded by pro hero’s (based on the flashy getups…. Is that a horse gas mask?) and seemed to be in the middle of something. A beat of silence followed as Muska walked over to an empty chair near the front, it looked to be Nedzu’s but the short rat-man didn’t need it, and sat down. Pulling out her phone and starting to scroll through Tiktok. It was an old app but it stayed strong through the years and was still running.

“Uh, whatsa youngin like ya doin here?” Horse gas mask man asked. The heroes all subtly nodded along, too shocked by her nonchalant actions about crashing a very obvious faculty meeting.

Muska’a face twisted into a small frown as she turned her attention up to see the man. Aizawa, who she just now noticed was sitting at the back corner of the table, was just glaring down at Nedzu. Smart move and he was right.

“First of all, don’t call me youngin, I can guarantee I'm older than you. Second of all, ask Remy the rat here for that info.” Muska stated, about to return to her phone before perking up again and continued, “Also rat-man, if you want answered questions they better be done before 5, I have pasta being cooked by a glorified 5 star chef waiting at home.”

Several heroes choked, Aizawa hid a snort into his scarf, at her words. Nedzu, the fiend, just smiled wider.

“Of course!” The chimera chirped.

Yes chirped, maybe he had some bird DNA mixed in?

“I wouldn’t want to keep you too long! Faculty, this is Viridis Muska, Viridis, these are the pro heroes on staff that I trust to keep their mouths shut under oath of an NDA! Your guardian was kind enough to email it over to me this afternoon.”

Muska snorted at that. “Yea sounds like her.” Placing her phone face up on the table next to her, she tapped on the table expectantly as the Rat took his sign to continue.

“The most obvious question should probably be first and I know my dear staff are confused, what did you mean by you being older?”

It was an innocent question, she’ll answer it.

“Why Remy, that's cause unless Humanity has managed to surpass their expected due date of at max 120 years, then I am very much so older.”

The room was filled with confusion. It radiated off them in waves as distress rose at getting such vague answers. Aizawa in the corner sighed and snapped his gaze from the rat to her.

“I’m sure what the rat meant to ask was how old are you exactly and how did you reach that age.” Aizawa stated. Clear and concise.

“Of course, if I remember correctly I should be turning 267 this year,” she said, not pausing even when coffee was spat all over the table from a few of the people around the room, “and I was born a human, however upon entry into the veil and my chosen profession as a witch, I was changed. Reaching the height of my craft has allowed me to unlock certain aspects of my being, immortalizing my body for now. I’m still technically in my ‘teen’ years considering the average witch you’ll meet has passed a thousand years in some capacity.”

Aizawa ran a hand down his face in exasperation and a quiet mumble of “fucking problem ch- witch” escaped. A few other heroes were pale, and the spandex woman looked very intrigued. A twink with blond hair that had the weird energy actually coughed up blood. Muska’s gaze snapped to him at that. The need to heal over writing her focus for a moment before Nedzu cleared his throat for attention again.

Reluctantly she returned her gaze to the rat. If she didn’t know any better she would have thought he was undisturbed. She did, however, know better. The rat was practically vibrating where he stood in excitement.

“Viridis, do you think you could give us a basic rundown of the veil?” Nedzu quizzed, looking more and more like the sadistic researcher he was. Fuck, He's just like the elves.

Muska leaned back and sighed. She expected this and went over it with eras last night. They came up with what could, or couldn’t be talked about for the beginning until they were all deemed trustworthy.

“I can give you a short, very short compared to all the details of the veil, summary but frankly the veil doesn’t want certain info getting into certain hands.” She said, voice cold and steely. She would not be taking a no for this.

“I understand! Anything you can trust us with for now would help the mystery that has been plaguing me for years.” Nedzu said, which caused Muska to cackle a bit.

“I know, the… reps of certain races and collectives have placed bets on when and who would slip and give you the info at some point.” watching with amusement as Nedzu’s whiskers twitched, she sighed and leaned forwards. Pointing a finger at the white board behind her.

Nedzu, who of course understood exactly what that meant, nodded.

Muska stood up and grabbed three markers. One black, one green, and one red. Taking the black marker, she drew a large circle and wrote ‘The Veil’ above it. Uncapping the green marker, Muska spoke up as she marked off sections in the circle with black and labeled them in green.

“In the veil there are set collections and races. I, as a witch, belong to the group called Magia.” Magia was written in a section taking up a 5th of the circle, “It's a collective that represents those who follow magically tied professions, no matter the race you are, since once you become a part of what defines the Magia you are assigned this section. Of course like nations there is also dual representation. However, that's more complicated and this is the short version.”

A quick glance told Muska that everyone in the room was listening with rapt attention. Especially Aizawa and Nedzu, one more concealed than the other.

“Next is the elvish. Yes, elves, and yes, they are very pretentious. The younger ones are more lax and ready for mischief, but the elders tend to be stuck in their ways or research. God the research they do. They’re called the scholars of the abyss. Do you need to know something? Ask an elf. They write and read practically everything there is to write and read.” Another section gets cut off and labeled.

“Then there's the dwarves, oh and I’m listing these in population order as is the sectioning. The more people the bigger the section and so on. I’ll get to influence later. Back to dwarves. They aren’t all blacksmiths as myth leads you to believe but they do make the best weaponry and armor. You can find quite a few in engineering professions. A lot find jobs in mixology and brewing as well.” Another section. So far all are labeled with green.

“Next is the Vampires. These guys are incredibly important in the veil since they were the first members of it. Treated the closest to monsters, they had to run away from society's view earlier than loved races like elves and dwarves. Hell, even witches had some supporters when Halloween started to become a festive rather than a lore holiday. If you want to truly know about the veil? Then ask a vampire. They have every secret tucked away and safe guarded by their Origins.” Muska said, a small mischievous smirk was hidden as they faced the board. The energy shift in Nedzu told her the first time he met Eras would be cathartic considering it's her quirk registry game that led her here.

“Next is a much smaller group called the Fae. They are everything you’ve read and more. Do not engage with them until you’ve gone through Celtic mythology. You’ll become moss like that. I fuckin hate the imps sometimes.”

“In a more general group are the smallest numbers. Collectively known as the ‘inbetween’ these members range from the sirens in the waters to the spirits that haunt the earth and fuel the energy. Demons fall under here too but they rarely visit earth and always do so under contract so they don’t have much of a voice. Dragon descendants too, the last of the actual dragons died thousands of years ago but their blood lines are in half dragons. They have wings on some, horns and scales on others, but all carry the boiling blood of their predecessors.”

Muska took a deep breath after labeling one of the last spaces with green. Capping it, she uncapped the red and wrote a bold ‘FORGOTTEN’ in the smallest space. Turning around she dropped all smiles and pleasantries. Voice harsh and cold as she spoke venom with every word.

“Never, ever, look for those in the forgotten. They do not have representation but they are known and branded. A red circle with a line in the middle along with text that only certain people can read is their symbol and it's burned into their skin. The forgotten are the, essentially, criminals of the veil. The veil is filled with people of dubious legalities to humans but there is a special place to rot for those that cross veil taboos. Whether it’s a necromancer practicing on those that are alive, or a vampire who has gone blood crazy and slipped into the view of humans as food. Elves committing experimentation on live creatures for research or sirens drowning sailors into the ocean out of amusement. These are all examples of forgottens who get branded soon after they are recognized.”

The air seemed stale as Muska ran her glare over the heroes present. Even Nedzu shuddered as the energy in the room seemed to freeze and burn those that took too deep of a breath despite not actually happening.

The heroes nodded once they realized she was looking for a response and her gaze softened but still held a serious edge to it.

“The brands are placed by chosen representatives of the race where the forgotten came from. The representative is chosen by a council meeting between the heads of each race, the heads themselves are chosen by vote or position within the race and the job is carried out within 24 hours of discovery.”

Speaking of the representatives of races,

“Any questions before I head home for my fuckin pasta?”

(She just really wants her pasta)

Tags:

@baguettehead

#bnha #mha #mhafanfic #bnhafanfic #mha oc #au

[thepandapopo]

A Step Through Time Ch 5: Promises

Synopsis:

The one where Felix is done with his younger self being a stubborn asshole and Sophie is determined to treat her fathers equally.

OR

In which Felix confronts his younger self and have a much needed chat while Sophie, who really should never be left alone, makes a not-so-great choice. Pairing: Sylvix

Chapter Index

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

If you had asked Ingrid a month ago if Felix would ever willingly allow someone, anyone, to touch him in even the most casual of ways, she would have laughed first, then immediately sent for Manuela because no one in their right mind would ever think such a thing.

So understandably, to say Ingrid is extremely shocked as she watches the older versions of Felix and Sylvain interact with each other is the understatement of the century.

“They’re disgustingly adorable in their own way,” Dorothea snickers from her seat on the dining hall bench beside her. “I don’t know whether I want to coo or puke.”

Ingrid wholeheartedly agrees.

Clearly fatherhood and marriage, or maybe it was being married to Sylvain of all people, has changed Felix – has made him more… domestic. The Felix and Sylvain of her timeline are already joined at the hip, regardless of how much they deny it, but married Felix and Sylvain are in a league of their own.

Everywhere Felix goes, Sylvain is always there beside him with the shorter man’s battle scarred hand tucked neatly into the crook of his right elbow, his left hand gently securing Felix’s own while also proudly showing off the glittery silver ring adoring his ring finger (his engagement ring, Ingrid reminds herself, as Sylvain had made very clear when he decided that the dining hall was a perfect place to scandalize the entire army with a borderline inappropriate kiss). And if little Sophie is with them, it is like an invisible thread ties them together, ensuring that he is standing no further than a hairs breadth apart from his husband with his daughter in his arms, or placing a hand on Felix’s lower back while he carries their little spitfire.

“I know that couples inevitably begin to adopt some of their partner’s characteristics and habits, but this is almost too much.” Ingrid frowns, finally bringing her forkful of food to her mouth after being frozen in place as she blatantly stares at the happy family. “It’s like Felix isn’t even Felix anymore.”

Across from her, Annette hums her assent. “It’s a bit unsettling, but it’s still really nice to see how happy they are. If you ask me, the really creepy thing is Sylvain’s stare. Have you seen it, yet? It’s like an exact copy of Felix.” Bits of buttery crust go flying from her fork as she waves it around to emphasize her point leaving Mercedes to pull out a handkerchief and mop up the stray crumbs that have found their way onto their once pristine table.

It’s true. Although Ingrid has not been on the receiving end of Felix’s (or Sylvain’s now, for that matter) deadpan glare for a long time, she has seen it directed at others – especially when it comes to anything regarding Sophie who is, clearly, extremely doted upon by her two fathers, even while they try to cajole her into finishing the rest of her vegetables.

“Sweetheart, you know you have to finish your meal first before you get your dessert.” Sylvain’s tone is low and chiding, but the softness of his expression very nearly undermines the authority of his words.

“I don’t wanna,” comes the sad whimper complete with puppy eyes and a wobbling lower lip. “It tastes yucky.”

“Aww, cut her some slack, guys!” Whatever else Balthus is about to say from across the table next to theirs is immediately swallowed back down when not only Felix, but Sylvain as well, levels him with a look so equally unamused that even Ingrid can feel the shiver run down her spine.

“Sophia Gabriella Fraldarius-Gautier. You know you cannot leave your seat until you’ve finished your plate.” Felix says, more stern than his husband sitting on the other side of Sophie, but still bordering the line of fond exasperation. With a grimace himself, Felix spears a few of the sprouts on his own fork and shovels them into his mouth.

“Papa is also eating them too, see? You can be a good girl and finish your food too, right, Princess?” Sylvain smiles affectionately but his voice is strained. It’s been the better part of an hour now that he has tried bargaining with his daughter and even the most patient of fathers has a limit. His eyes meets Felix’s briefly as an unspoken message flits between them before Felix nods stiffly and chimes in again.

“If you promise to be good and finish your vegetables for the rest of this month, we will think about letting you go see the market that is passing through town.”

Clearly, it is an effective bait and Sophie’s eyes light up like it’s Yule and her birthday all rolled into one.

“Really?!”

This is news to Ingrid. The last time Annette and Mercedes had mentioned it in passing to future Felix and Sylvain, testing the waters to see if they would be amenable to allowing them to take Sophie, it had resulted in a resounding ‘no’ and one teary child.

“This is war, Annie.” Felix had said in a no nonsense tone after a sniffling Sophia had been carted off to check out the pastries fresh from the kitchen. “She has only known a time of peace. Sophie doesn’t understand how dangerous it can be going out somewhere even as simple as a market in times of unrest.”

“But it’s not like we’d let her go by herself!” Annette argued. “We would be with her the whole time!”

“It’s not your babysitting skills that we’re worried about, Annie.” Sylvain said. His lips quirked upwards in a small smile that did little to lessen the gravity of his expression. “Sophie has a tendency to be ah, a bit of a curious child.”

Felix snorted. “Like someone I know,” he muttered under his breath.

“And so,” Sylvain continued, completely ignoring the barb from his husband even though he knows that later on in the privacy of their own room, he’ll get into how the curiosity may have come from him, but the utter fearlessness and stubborn will to do her own thing one hundred percent came from Felix. “Sophie has a bad habit of wandering off. Goddess knows she’s done it loads of times whenever Felix or I take her down to our local market. The only difference is that everyone there knows who she is and at the end of the day, nothing bad ever happens to her and she comes home with a treat or two and a pat on the head.”

“Well then, we can just hold her hand!” Mercedes says like it is the simplest solution in the world.

“We’ve tried that. We’ve tried literally everything under the sun short of actually tying her to us physically with a rope.”

“But what about-“

“No means no, Annette. We will not argue with you about this. It’s not safe.”

“But Feeelix-!”

And that was the end of that conversation. At least, until now.

But then again, Felix willingly reopening a topic he had previously considered closed is probably one of the lesser odd things that have been happening recently.

“Nuh uh, little missy. All your vegetables means all of them.” Sylvain scrapes the larger bits and pieces of vegetables dotting Sophie’s plate to the center, much to her dismay. The scraps amount to a decent pile of greens and not for the first time, Ingrid realizes just how wily and intelligent Sophie really is.

Raising a daughter with the will of Felix and the looks and intelligence of Sylvain will surely be a trial in itself, but that’s not a problem for Ingrid to worry about. Right now, she just has to worry about making herself scarce when Sylvain and Felix approach Mercie and Annie before she gets dragged into it as well.

----

“Why can’t Daddy come with us?” Sophie asks. Her eyes are wide and sad and Felix will never get used to how it makes his heart wrench. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, baby. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Sylvain crouches so that he’s eye level with his teary daughter. “Daddy has to go to an important meeting with Uncle Dima, Uncle Claude, and Auntie By. But I’ll come find you and Papa if we finish early.” Sylvain smooths back the unruly crimson curls that are already starting to come out of the half updo that Felix had put in this morning. After years of doing his daughter’s hair, Felix has resigned himself to always fixing it halfway through the day lest it becomes a true bird’s nest at night after the wild adventures to be had.

“Promise?” Her lower lip is wobbling and Felix is starting to think that perhaps Sophie is a lot more aware of her influence on others than they think she is.

“I promise, sweetheart.” Sylvain smiles at his daughter before turning his eyes to Felix, a mischievous glint shining through. “Your Papa can vouch that I never break a promise.”

The wink Sylvain throws at him is met with an eyeroll and scoff, but Felix cannot stop the small quirk of his lips. Sylvain has always come through with his promises, both to him and to their daughter. It’s one of the things that Felix loves so dearly about Sylvain after all – there is nothing in the world that he values more than the trust of his family and friends.

“Sophie, go check to make sure you’ve packed your coin purse and a snack. I need to speak with your father for a bit. I’ll meet you at the gates with Auntie Annie and Mercie, okay?”

Sophie doesn’t need to be told twice. She is already vibrating off the walls, eager to get going and visit the market that she has been dying to see. “Yes, Papa. Daddy, I hope you come soon! I’ll buy you a present, so make sure you hurry, okay?”

Felix and Sylvain both watch as their daughter scurries away, red hair flying behind her as she weaves through the mid morning crowd to join Annette and Mercedes standing at the foot of the stairs leading to the Entrance Hall. When she arrives with a hop and skip, Felix finally feels the knot that has been building in chest since that morning abate slightly.

“Hey.”

Felix jolts at the warm hand that cups his elbow. “It’s okay, Fe. She’ll be safe with you. We’re not going to lose her.”

“I know.” Felix huffs, taking a step forward so he can rest his forehead in the dip of Sylvain’s collar. “It’s just... I can’t help but worry.”

Sylvain chuckles, “I get it, Fe. She’s certainly got enough mischief in her to always keep us on our toes. I don’t think she’ll ever grow out of it, to be honest. Goddess knows I dread the day when I’m going to have to beat back suitors and stop her from sneaking out to gallivant with stable boys.”

“There will be no gallivanting with anyone. Period. I would prefer not to stab someone less than half my age.”

“Oh, but baby you look so hot when you’re all riled up and murderous.” The shiver that runs down Felix’s spine is undeniable and after a lifetime together, Sylvain would know the effect he has on his husband even if it weren’t for the hand sliding to wrap around his waist and the other reaching up to cup a smooth, pale cheek.

“Fuck you.” There’s no venom behind his words. Only the breathy whisper of comfort borne from unshakeable trust and love.

“Gladly, but alas I have a meeting to get to.” The red head lets out a full belly laugh and ignores the half-hearted smack from Felix (which still smarts, because Felix at half strength is still stupidly strong with his damn training regimen).  “Are you going to talk to your younger self today?”

The atmosphere takes on a decidedly more sombre note, but it’s a necessary topic.

Felix nods. “Yeah. Annie convinced him to come with us to the market to check out the blacksmith.”

“I’m sorry I can’t come. It would be easier if I were the one to talk to him, but…”

“It’s fine,” Felix shakes his head. “The next battle at Fort Merceus is important and you were a big part of the strategizing. You need to be there to make sure they make the right decisions.”

“Even still. Talking to your younger self about feelings is going to be like pulling teeth. I should know. I’m your very own Felix-whisperer after all.” Sylvain closes his eyes and lets his forehead drop to rest against Felix’s; his soft breath tickling the midnight bangs framing his husband’s visage. “Our younger selves need all the help they can get. Sothis… I don’t remember us being such a disaster.”

“Neither do I, and yet here we are stuck trying to convince our younger counterparts that the other is very much interested.”

“For the record,” Sylvain smirks. The hand that was previously wrapped around Felix’s waist is now slowly drifting lower. “I’d like to say that I’m still very much interested.”

“Pinch my ass in public and you’ll lose your hand.”

“Aw, Fe. You’re no fun!”

It’s the twitch of Felix’s cheek that betrays his amusement. “Tch. Insatiable.”

----

Awkward.

That’s the only way that Felix can even begin to describe the odd, tense energy that weighs down their group as they walk leisurely down the long winding roads descending from Garreg Mach.

To be fair, most of the awkwardness is in part due to Felix’s refusal to speak to his younger self, instead choosing to contentedly watch Sophie hop and skip around the flowers dotting their path. Ever since Sylvain’s decision to completely disregard time travel etiquette, the younger Felix had made himself scarce, pointedly avoiding him and his husband as if afraid that he would catch feelings simply by being around them.

Ha. That fucker was already head over heels in love no matter how much he denied it.

“Sophie, when we get to the market, will you go with Annie and Mercie while I visit the blacksmith please?” Felix says it quiet enough that it sounds like it is a private conversation, but in the silence of the forest around them, it easily carries.

Sophie blinks, confused, but acquiesces. “Okay.”

Felix smiles and pats her head. He can practically feel the suspicion and irritation rolling off his younger self in waves, but he can’t really bring himself to care.

He needs to address this issue now because Felix knows better than anyone else just how obstinate he can be, and if he’s right, there’s a very good chance that this younger version of himself will take his feeling for Sylvain with him to the grave out of pure stubbornness.

So when they finally arrive to the market, Felix doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he wants to talk to his counterpart – alone. He kneels and gives Sophie a quick hug after he makes her promise again to not wander off by herself before standing off to the side in the direction of the blacksmith, his arms crossed and waiting patiently while he watches young Felix scowl at the sheer number of people around.

A brusque nod from young Felix and suddenly they are face to face, and there is no denying the discomfort starting to roil in his gut.

Maybe he should have waited for Sylvain to talk to him after all.

“Well? Spit it out.” Despite asking Felix to talk, his younger self pushes past him roughly and begins stalking towards their destination.

“Stop being so stubborn.” Young Felix whirls around at him with a look of incredulity.

“Being ‘stubborn’?” He glowers. “I’m not being stubborn. I’m not being anything except for a pawn of fate apparently because my whole damn future has already been decided for me!”

Ah. So that is the core of the problem. “Your future hasn’t been decided. That’s the whole point of me being here – so that we can make sure that things do happen as they originally went.”

“Oh, so I’m just supposed to accept the fact that my life becomes sickeningly domestic –“ he all but spits the word out like poison, “- and I’m trapped in a life that I never wanted?”

Felix narrows his eyes. “So you’re saying you don’t want this life? You don’t want peace for Fodlan? You don’t want to actually feel happy for the first time your goddamn life since Glenn died?”

“Who the fuck are you to say whether I’m happy or not? I’m happy when I have a blade in my hand, not when I’m being carted around like a… like a stupid trophy wife!”

“First of all,” Felix is proud of how level his voice comes out despite his urge to throttle the man in front of him, “I’m you, so of course I know what you want. I lived that life already.”

He pauses for a bit and then decides to go for a different angle – one that he knows has always worked with him when Sylvain tries to talk him down from stabbing some of the more pompous nobles during trade talks.

He takes a deep breath to ground himself. “But you’re still you. I can’t say I know exactly what you’re feeling, but I can imagine because at the core of everything, I know what I used to be like back then. And I also know that no matter what timeline I exist in, there will always be one thing that remains constant.”

It’s true. There is one truth that Felix knows will span the test of time and space no matter what version of himself he is dealing with.

“…Are you ever going to tell me what it is?” Young Felix mutters angrily, breaking their brief standstill.

Marriage really has made him soft, Felix thinks as he feels the corners of his mouth curl up in a smile. He can practically hear Sylvain in his head telling him about how he probably has his ‘dopey love face’ on right now and his eyes are all ‘melted amber’. What a sentimental fool.

“I think you know.”

“Ugh,” Young Felix scowls and turns away to glare at the bucket of swords in front of the blacksmith’s stall. It’s an admission if Felix has ever heard one, and he knows that his younger self does know.

Despite what the majority of Fodlan thinks, Felix is quite capable at reading people’s emotions. He knows when people feel uncomfortable or when they might need a kind word, but for the most part, he just doesn’t care enough to coddle them because he knows it will only do them more harm than good. Which is exactly why he decides to jump straight to the truth.

“It’s okay to love him, you know.”

Young Felix freezes. The stiff set of his shoulders hunch up almost protectively and he stubbornly stays facing away from him.

“I know…” Felix swallows the lump in his throat, “I know that it’s hard to even think about letting anyone in after Glenn – how hard it is to trust someone enough and believe that they won’t just leave you like everyone else inevitably does.”

Felix touches the obsidian ring on his left hand. He spins it absently and the smooth slide of the black band against his hand grounds him.

“Mother… Glenn… and then Father…” Felix has long made his peace with his father’s death, but there is still the faintest of stings in his heart when he thinks about it. “They all left us. But Sylvain has always been there. He was there when Mother died. He stayed with us for weeks after Glenn died. And he never pitied or babied us when Father died. He was just there.”

It’s a bit hazy, most memories from the war blur together honestly, but Felix does remember the days after the battle at Gronder with crystal clarity – those few painful days after his father’s sacrifice. No matter how many times he told Sylvain to leave, no matter how he yelled at him or tried to chase him away, Sylvain stood by him, steadfast and most importantly, without judgement.

He simply let Felix be.

And that was exactly what he needed.

“He’s the biggest idiot in Fodlan, but you and I both know that Sylvain does everything in his power to care for his friends and family.” Felix says it like it like he’s stating the obvious. “He’s also irresponsible and completely reckless, and Goddess knows that moron wouldn’t sustain half of his injuries if he just trained more, but he does remember our promise. And he’s doing his best to keep it while also making sure we stay alive.”

Felix steps forward so that he’s now standing side by side with his younger self. From his peripheral vision, he can see the furrowed brow and tightly pursed lips that he knows only happens when he begrudgingly agrees.

“I know you don’t believe in a fated future. Honestly, neither do I. But if there’s one thing I can tell you for certain, it is that loving Sylvain, and being loved in return, is the best thing that will ever happen to you.” Felix allows the warmth in his chest to bloom. While that feeling may have scared him once upon a time, he’s learned to become fond of it because he knows that the only reason he can feel this way is because he has come so far and conquered all his demons along the way.

“You’re disgustingly sentimental.”

“Maybe so, but I can still kick your ass.”

Young Felix snorts, “maybe then I’d actually have a good spar for once that isn’t against the professor.”

Felix laughs quietly, the heavy weight on his chest lifting just as the tension eases out of Young Felix’s stance. The truth is out there, and at least his younger self isn’t denying things anymore, but ultimately it will be up to Young Felix to decide the path he wants to take.

Felix Fraldarius is many things, but most importantly he is not a coward, which is why despite not having verbally settled the matter with his younger self, he knows with absolute certainty that Young Felix will never turn away from Sylvain, especially not when he’s been given permission to chase that happiness that he’s longed for.

----

Sophie decides very quickly that the market is her new favourite place. Forget the kitchens and all their yummy baked treats, the marketplace has all that and more.

Everywhere she looks, there is something new to see. Stalls upon stalls are lined with various treasures and fancy looking things that no amount of tears would help escape the wrath of her fathers if, by some stroke of bad luck, she is unfortunate enough to break them.

“Auntie Mercie! Look, Balloons!”

Sophie tugs on the healer’s hands eagerly, careful not to let go and wander off though there is a tiny whisper in her heart that tempts her so. The large inflated animals sway merrily in the breeze, and with the hustle and bustle of the environment around them, it almost looks as if they are dancing with excitement.

“Oh, aren’t they adorable? Would you like one, Sophie?” Mercedes claps her hands together, looking just as delighted as Sophie feels and soon, the trio of females is making their way through the surprisingly large crowd that has gathered for this lively gathering as a reprieve from the war.

“The fox,” Sophie pulls on Mercedes’ hand even more urgently the closer they get. “I want the fox, please, Auntie Mercie!”

“What about the cat, Sophie? That’s one is pretty cute.” Annette giggles. The red headed mage ducks and peers left and right at the variety of floating animals attached to the belt of the balloon vendor. There is already a gaggle of children forming around the man as he hands ribbons off to parents in exchange for gold, and although Sophie feels like she might burst if she has to wait any longer, she knows to wait her turn for the man to address her.

“Hello there, young miss. And what can I get for you today?” When the man finally turns his kind face towards her, Sophie cannot tear her eyes away from her goal. “Perhaps a bird? Or maybe a puppy?”

Sophie’s voice comes out breathy and excited. Reaching a hand up, she points eagerly, “the fox please. Can I have the fox?”

“Of course! Why don’t you reach out your hand for me and I’ll tie it to your wrist?”

Obediently, Sophie sticks out her left arm and watches, enraptured as the white ribbon loops delicately around her wrist, loose enough that she can slip her hand out if she really wanted to, but tight enough that the balloon will not fly away. Reaching into the small coin purse attached to her hip, Sophie carefully counts out the appropriate amount and hands them over.

“Thank you!” Sophie calls out after the vendor as Annette and Mercedes begin leading her away from the throng. It’s much too crowded now, but the little Fraldarius-Gautier cannot help but feel comforted by her floating guardian. Papa did always say that her Daddy was ‘sly as a fox’ after all, and it feels like her father is there with her when she sees it.

“Do you think Daddy will like it?” Sophie mumbles shyly when they’ve walked far enough that the screams of delighted children are nothing more than a whisper in the distance.

“I’m sure Sylvain will love it!” Mercedes says sweetly. The healer looks at Sophie with a mixed expression, almost like she is trying to solve a puzzle that she can’t quite figure out, before Annette interrupts her with a gasp.

“Mercie, there’s the sweets vendor that we’ve been looking for!”

Sweets? Sweets are good. That sounds like something Sophie is definitely interested in.

“Come on,” Annette urges. She grabs Mercedes by the hand and by extension, also Sophie, who is clutching onto her other one, and she drags them with haste towards a brightly colored stall laden with pastries and sweet treats of all kinds.

The saccharine smell wafting from the baked goods makes Sophie’s mouth water, but her eyes dart from one flamboyantly decorated cupcake to another, helplessly unable to pick a favourite.

“Hey! I remember you two!” The friendly looking lady behind the counter smiles as they approach. “You ladies came by my stall the last time I was in town, didn’t you?”

Annette flushes and nods. “The sweets were so good, we just had to make a return visit and pick up some more!” Despite her embarrassment, she is already reaching out to grab a fluffy looking cream pastry that looks more like a cloud than anything else.

“I’m so glad you like them, miss. Business has slowed down recently because of the war. Not much extra money to go towards frivolous things like sweets anymore, you know?” Sophie frowns. War? What war?  “Regular patrons like you are always appreciated.”

“Oh, and look at you, you sweet little thing,” Suddenly the attention is turned towards Sophie and any lingering confusion flies out the window. “What’s your name?”

“My name is Sophie!” With her fathers’ voices in the back of her head telling her to mind her manners, Sophie flashes her brightest smile and bobs gracefully into a quick curtsey. “It’s very nice to meet you. Your sweets look so yummy!”

“They’re the best in all of Fodlan, that’s for sure!” The kind looking lady proudly puffs her chest. “Have you ever tried some, little miss? Since it’s your first time, why don’t you go pick one and I’ll let you try it on the house.”

“Really?” Sophie’s eyes round with excitement. Daddy was right – being well mannered really does bring good things!

There are so many choices to choose from that it feels a little bit overwhelming, but eventually a beautiful deep red velvet cupcake topped with a mountain of chocolate frosting and a small candied cherry catches Sophie’s eye.

She likes cherries. She likes cupcakes. That’s two in one, isn’t it? It’s a perfect deal.

“Good choice, little miss. That’s our red velvet cupcake with black forest icing. It’s one of our more popular cakes; especially with the ladies.” The sweets lady holds out the cupcake to her and Sophie quickly lets go of Mercedes’ hand to receive it.

The monstrosity of a cupcake is so large that it takes Sophie both hands to hold it, taking great pains to not drop it nor smear any icing on her dress. She still remembers the scolding Papa had given her over the grass and mud stains in her dress a couple of weeks ago and is not eager to repeat that experience.

Above, her red fox sways gently to and fro, moving every time Sophie maneuvers her hands to nibble away at equal parts frosting and icing. She has long since tuned out from the conversation between the nice sweets lady and Mercedes and Annette, instead choosing to savor and enjoy her treat while it lasts.

Sophie is halfway done her cupcake when a raucous of children shrieking with delight steals her attention back in the direction of the balloon man. There, in the middle of a cluster of children stands a rather short and odd-looking man carting around a small trolley packed with stuffed animals, and at the very bottom, shoved against a dopey looking tiger and a rather ferocious lion is a black cat stuffy, complete with slitted golden eyes stitched painstakingly above some wiry whiskers and a kitten pout.

It’s the most wonderful stuffed kitty Sophie has ever seen. She has a present for Daddy, but what about Papa? Surely Papa would also like a gift – it’s only fair since Daddy gets one, right? Right. Her fathers had always taught her to treat everyone equally, and Sophie feels like that must include her family as well.

Annette and Mercedes are still engrossed in conversation with the Sweets Lady, but now their arms are full of bags laden with goodies they are no doubt brining back to the monastery. An itch like no other claws its way up Sophie’s chest and she really, really wants to ask for permission to go see the toy merchant, but she doesn’t want to interrupt what looks to be a very lively conversation.

One quick glance back makes the anxiousness double as the man begins to move towards an intersection across the courtyard from them. If he goes any further, he will turn the corner and Sophie will lose sight of him.

The gleeful squealing of laughter is getting farther and farther away now. She really should tell Mercedes and Annette where she is going, but she’s running out of time and Sophie will be absolutely heartbroken if her Papa is sad that he did not get a gift from her as well.

It will only be for a quick minute. She isn’t going very far. All she will do is go up to the merchant and buy the cat stuffy and return back to the sweets stall in no time at all.

Right?

.

.

.

In that split second, Sophie makes a decision.

She turns back towards the bustling market square and runs.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

I'm so sorry for the delay with this chapter! I wanted to post it during my xmas holidays but I got so caught up with other things (read: sleeping) that I didn't get any writing done at all. I hope you all enjoy the chapter. Thank you again for being so patient with me and reading up until now. Things are about to get rocky so I hope you're all prepared.

The SylVix PDA thing was actually inspired by art from @emilyliuwho on twitter. You can see the post here.

If you would like to be added to a tag list, please PM me!!

Tag list: @pato-social

#sylvix #felix x sylvain #sylvain x felix #sylvain jose gautier #felix hugo fraldarius #SOFT FELIX #domesticity #alternate universe #sophia gabriella fraldarius gautier #a step through time #popo writes #fire emblem #Fire Emblem Three Houses #fire emblem 3 houses #fanfiction #fire emblem fanfiction #ongoing fic

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

Important Asks/Interesting Theories

Beware, this post is filled with spoilers for Zemblanity! Read after you’ve finished the main series, as it’s constructed so that everything makes sense in the end. But if you’re still curious or confused, here’s the guide you need!

Be sure to look at the date of when any of the asks were posted before you send me a new one saying ‘but this isn’t possible because [insert reasoning here]’ especially for the theories. I tried to put a ‘Prior to’ section for all of them but yeahhhhh just check the dates.

So these were originally individual asks on my blog but I got rather lazy to reblog and tag everything (and I’m kind of afraid of hitting the post limit again), so I’ll just type them out here.

Table of Contents so You Don’t Have to Keep Scrolling:

Asks About Zemblanity in Case You Are Confused

Confused about the timelines?

So if TL8 Ten and TL9 Ten merged that means they have the same memories and behaviors? That’s why he remembered to save (Y/N)?

Does jumping from timeline to timeline affect Sector V? For all timelines is there only one Sector V?

So why are (Y/N)’s dreams a thing?

Can you explain the whole TL8 Ten getting sent back to TL9 and everything that resulted?

So why does Kunhang want to drown the system?

So is Yangyang actually in love with (Y/N) or is it just infatuation?

[Not an Ask] Regarding the Dream Sequences in Zemblanity

Interesting Theories About Zemblanity

{Prior to TWN4} Mark Lee is the True Culprit (Personal Favorite of Mine)

{Prior to TIR0} Maybe Yangyang is the best friend in Ch. 4’s dreams…

{Prior to TIR1} Maybe Xiaojun is the best friend in Ch. 4’s dreams…

{Prior to TIR2} Maybe (Y/N) and Ten coming up to the moon in 2004 was a lie?

{Prior to TIR4} Maybe (Y/N)’s dreams aren’t hers and she’s living through someone else’s memories?

{Prior to TIR4} Hendery might have gotten into an accident that involved severe burns…

{Prior to TIR5} Xuxi’s definitely the man in Chapter 2’s dream sequences

{Prior to Chapter 5} Xiaojun knows everything

{Prior to Chapter 5} Xiaojun is the man in the Newton’s Cradle dream

{Prior to TWN5} Hendery definitely has D.I.D.

{Prior to Chapter 6} The Dream Guy in Chapter 5 is Hendery

{Prior to Chapter 6} The Multiple Timeline Theory (Note that many people contributed to these so they may not be consistent)

{Prior to Chapter 7 and TWN6} The Matrix Theory

{Prior to Chapter 7’s Release} Maybe Xiaojun’s the Inmate in TIR6

{Prior to Chapter 8’s Release} The inmate from 2022 (mentioned in TIR6 and TIR8) is Ten

Special Questions

So, what happened to the 2004 Flight Records?

Who was the eighth inmate who killed himself?

Asks About Zemblanity in case you are confused

Confused about the timelines?

Q: Hi, i hope you get this question because it's the first time I'm asking something on Tumblr (I've been here for like a month or so 😅). And I hope I don't annoy with this question or maybe someone asked this already but what about the TL6? Chapter 8 honestly got me so confused that I locked up who belongs to which Timeline and I think we got like 9? TL1-5 is Kun, Xuxi, Xiaojun, Sicheng, Hendery. TL7 is Yangyang and TL8&9 is Ten because they got merged??

A: Hi there!! Welcome to tumblr! I’m honored to be your first ask, love ❤️ Also, fear not, asks never annoy me, I’m actually quite fond of them, because if one person is a bit confused, chances are others are too. Plus, I love to hear from my readers! No one has asked yet, so I don’t mind answering your question! To break it down, the timelines are as follows:

TL1 - Kun TL2 - Xuxi TL3 - Xiaojun TL4 - Sicheng TL5 - Guanheng (Hendery/Kunhang) TL6 - Ten (inmate Ten from TL8) TL7 - Yangyang TL8 - The events prior to Zemblanity, Sector V is established, all 7 members of WayV are inmates. Ten has memories from both TL6 and TL8 TL9 - Main Zemblanity timeline. TL8 Ten is sent back in time within the Warden’s lifespan and merges with TL9 Ten as a result, he loses his memories and starts life again from the age 8 and retains memories from TL9 Ten up to that point.

So technically Ten has been through three timelines (6, 8, 9) Good for him.

So if TL8 Ten and TL9 Ten merged that means they have the same memories and behaviors? That’s why he remembered to save (Y/N)?

Q: question questiooon hehe did tl8 ten and tl9 ten merged?? Like their memories and behavior?? Thats why he remembered to save (y/n) and yet has a different behavior?

A: Yeah basically.

When the Warden sent Ten back during his (the Warden’s) lifetime, Ten ended up replacing TL9’s Ten, or merging, as you called it. Luckily due to Ten’s lack of memories of TL8 it wasn’t a horrible merge, and it allowed him to grow up completely differently than he did in TL8. I’d say that he just wanted to save (Y/N) cuz bestie things, but maybe there was a hidden subconscious feeling of “I must protect this girl with my life”

I could be wrong, but I think I once mentioned how (Y/N) felt that Ten was rather overprotective of her.

Does jumping from timeline to timeline affect Sector V? For all timelines is there only one Sector V?

Q: another question hehe so jumping from timeline to timeline and changing things doesnt affect sector v?? Like for all timelines there is only 1 sector v?? As in it merges all timelines??

A: [I kind of worded this one weirdly in the original post, so let me rewrite it a little] 

How I wrote it in my outline, verbatim, is “Due to Sector V being a locating where neither time nor reality follow their set laws, it remains independent of the other timelines, this allows people of other timelines to be able to walk amongst each other without dire consequence. Although it may sometimes pick up on rifts within the timelines closest to it.”

Amendment: So basically it is entirely possible for another to exist, as long as their timelines aren’t right next to each other (as in there aren’t too many major events, or even small choices that overlap or are similar within both timelines).

Amendment: But when someone, in this case Ten, who is closely linked to the Sector is purposely messing with people who are associated with it (since he was jumping into timelines the inmates were in), this causes the rifts in the Sector.

So why are (Y/N)’s dreams a thing?

Q: OH. so the dreams y/n got while inside the sector were caused by ten jumping thru the timelines??? i guess that would explain why the very last ones she had were of ten in that dark ass room..... but now i cant stop thinking abt how yangyang keeps trying to kill xiaojun because he probably did kill his timeline's xiaojun and now i wanna know yy's story

A: I originally answered this one prior to the story being finished, so allow me to amend this one too.

Yup yup! Our boy royally FUCKED up the timelines.

Amendment: I based this off of the old saying that Dreams are windows to other versions of ourselves, past, present, future, other dimensions, etc. Basically, Ten was trying to merge the timelines enough to get into one of these dreams to communicate with (Y/N), but by the time he succeeded he ended up ripping the fabric of time enough so that (Y/N) was able to talk to the other inmates long before she even got trapped in the Sector.

Also, since this ask spoke about the dreams, the dreams are direct reflections of that inmate’s state of mind. Do with that what you will.

Can you explain the whole TL8 Ten getting sent back to TL9 and everything that resulted?

Q: my brain hurts 🤠 so serial killer ten was sent back in time (and to another timeline?) and had his memories erased... and then he jumped thru timelines to get back to a time before y/n died.... so he can help y/n get out..... 🤠 i'll just go listen to domino on repeat call me when yall are done killing poor y/n HSNSJSJ

A: Time is such a kunfusing kuncept (😀) but that’s pretty much it yeah. If you want the full thing…

So Ten was sent back in time, however in order to keep some events of the timeline (in this case the Sector, the Station, etc.) the Warden sent him back to a time during his lifetime and due to some timey wimey bull shit this not only caused Ten to lose his memories but also caused him to become significantly younger. Hence why he and (Y/N) have memories of them being younger, because they actually did grow up together. 

Later in the story, Ten did travel to six different timelines, all in order to establish that side effect connection that results from fucking with the timelines to get in contact with (Y/N), all of which were both unsuccessful and resulted in (Y/N) being linked to the inmates instead (hence the dreams). The original plan was for him to establish a stable connection with (Y/N) since the server in the Sector is blocked and nearly impossible to get into from the outside and tell her how to get out from there, but we all saw how that ended up 🙃

So why does Kunhang want to drown the system?

Q: “So it’s safe to say that it is this alter who I see trying to drown the body.” IM SCREAMING- WHO IS TRYING TO DO W H A T?! OOOH. WOW. I-

A: The definition of a persecutor, to put it in simple terms, is a “misguided protector.” They typically hold the more traumatic memories of the body that the other alters or the host don’t. Often times the persecutors see it as it’s them against the system (in this case Kunhang against the other alters), and they see things as “oh, the abuser can’t do this to me if I do it myself” then it gets worse from there. Often times they punish the body (and by extension the other alters) by making them relive the trauma. (Note that it’s very rare for Persecutors to take their anger out on other people, it happens, but it’s rare, often times the rage is turned against the system)

So knowing that it’s Kunhang who forces the body to drown…. do with that what you may.

Amendment: In greater context of the story it’s explained in his ending that he was kidnapped and held for ransom by the rivaling kingdom and upon his return it was discovered that he developed DID while in captivity.

Of course through therapy they can be taught that what they’re doing is wrong, which is what we see through Kunhang present day. But yeahhhhhhh

Poor Guanheng :(

So is Yangyang actually in love with (Y/N) or is it just infatuation?

Q: So is Yangyang actually in love with her or is it just infatuation? Ik you said you've changed it a lot but still,,, also the way the only named connections towards Yangyang are "avoid at all costs", "weirded out", and "doesn't want to die" is both scary and amusing

A: When I first drafted Zemblanity (yes there is a first draft that you guys will likely never see) it was pure, unabashed infatuation. In the first draft I actually planned for each inmate to have a certain type of complex (god complex, father complex, etc.) but I figured the topic was both too information loaded and delicate to write about accurately in a fanfiction (I’m already juggling enough with the mental disorders, I’m planning to minor in psychology so I’ve taken a few of the classes before, so I luckily have notes from there I can turn to, all I need is some brushing up) Yangyang’s complex involved him seeking the need for stability, so at the time it was indeed just pure infatuation with no feelings of actual love.

Now it’s a bit different, I can’t give you the full answer for obvious reasons, but I will say he does feel genuine love for (Y/N), and so do the rest of the inmates, there are a few things attached to that genuine love though, but then again who doesn’t have some strings attached. The only thing that separates love from infatuation are those extra things hanging on to the feelings, after all.

Amendment: So now that the series is over, I can explain in full detail. Basically it’s some form of guilt that Yangyang felt, which is explained in his ending. And it was also the need to get closure for how she died, a mix of both. His mental state has already been in disarray, so when (Y/N) showed up at the Sector I think it’s safe to say it wholly broke. And it became something of “I knew she was still alive.”

Also yeah that’s what happens when you’re tipsy and story boarding at the same time, you come up with interesting character relationships lol 😂

[Not an Ask] Regarding the Dream Sequences in Zemblanity

One would do well to distinguish which dream sequences happen real time and which ones happened in the past. In this case I’ll spell it out easy peasy, each dream sequence that is happening real time is linked by one deciding factor: Ten. Often times he’s in the background and is described as trying to tell (Y/N) something important, but she can’t understand him.

Otherwise, the dream sequence happened in the past with exception of Kun’s dream sequences in Chapter 1, which happened real time.

Interesting Theories About Zemblanity

{Prior to TWN4} Mark Lee is the True Culprit (Personal Favorite of Mine)

Theory: Okay so like I know we're all tossing out Zemblanity theories but like consider this: Who was the one who was in charge of all the years? Who else do we know has access to a computer? Who else is associated to (Y/N). That's right. Mark Lee.

Response: THE WAY I CACKLED WHEN I READ THIS

That’s it. Anon figured it out. I gotta rewrite all of Zemblanity now

I’m joking of course but this is TOO FUCKING FUNNY I 😂😂 YOU GUYS ARE SO CREATUVE

Was it Correct? As expected, no.

{Prior to TIR0} Maybe Yangyang is the best friend in Ch. 4’s dreams…

T: Lmaoo my theory is that YangYang was the best friend and whoever he murdered was the boyfriend of y/n. Hes severely mentally unstable so thats possibly why he is projecting the image of that person onto Xiaojun and why he hates him so much. Thats why he knows so much about y/n and why he had her locket.... he was also quite abusive to y/n. Maybe she had her memories of him erased somehow but he feels she abandoned him personally and thats why he tied her up??? Hmmm. Just a theory though

R: But that’s just a theory! A Zemblanity theory! Thanks for reading!

God I hope at least some of y’all get the reference

I will say, you’re not too far off the mark, but you’re not 100% there either. 👀

WIC? Not completely. They did get Yangyang being the best friend correct and that he murdered (Y/N)’s toxic boyfriend (who just happened to be Xiaojun). But that’s about it, and I applaud you on getting that close!

{Prior to TIR1} Maybe Xiaojun is the best friend in Ch. 4’s dreams…

T: OKAY HEAR ME OUT: I think is the case as to why Xiaojun and Yang² hate each other (apart from the theories I left under chp 4). I really think that Xiaojun was actually her best friend and that he helped her out of her relationship with Yang²... and I think Yang² said "he hurt her" cause hes lowkey delusional? And psychotic so he thinks everyone's put to get him. As for Ten, he needed to be her best friend since Xiaojun is an inmate WHICH IS WHY THERES NO RECORDS OF THE DAY SHE CAME TO THE MOON

R: Interesting theory, but like the others, not too far off the mark, but not quite there. Also the lack of records of the day she went to the moon, there’s a reason, but that’s not quite the reason, ahhh that’s confusing but it’s the only way I can say it without revealing too much.

Hint: Look back at the Warden’s Notes, I usually drop spoilers in them on accident and I just forget to delete it

WIC? Ah, Vicky, Vicky, Vicky, you’re gonna give me a run for my money some day. You were SO close I got scared, haha. But, sadly, incorrect. Yangyang was the best friend and Xiaojun was the toxic boyfriend. As for the records part, I thought I left enough evidence for y’all to figure out, but I suppose not.

{Prior to TIR2} Maybe (Y/N) and Ten coming up to the moon in 2004 was a lie?

T: maybe y/n and ten being brought to the moon when they were very little was a lie and thats why the records for 2004 arent there 🤡 im just a simple dumbass i'll just wait until someone smarter puts together a sound theory HSNSKS ALSO ALSO ateez concepts are always so cool i 😔🥺 always my faves

R: Awww but you’re plenty smart, love 🥺 the fact that you can put together even the smallest theory is amazing!!!

But I acknowledge your theory and will put it up like the rest ❤️

WIC? Sadly, no. And I think I should just say it at this point and ruin the spoiler but hmm... I’ll put it at the end, how about that?

{Prior to TIR4} Maybe (Y/N)’s dreams aren’t hers and she’s living through someone else’s memories?

T: WAIT CRYS- WAIIIIT WAIIIIIT WAIIIIT.... okay okay okay are the dreams or memories that appear in the chapters uniquely Yn's? 👁👄👁 (please donr make me feel like a clown cause 😣✌🏾). This is me b4 you answer my last ask BUT what if the memories arent... hers.... what if most of the inmates had girlfriends and for those who committed murder, it was linked to the s/o..? Since Kun has OCD it would explain some questionable and almost controlling behaviour towards a lover and same applies to Yang². Just a thought. A far fetched thought that doesnt make sense (not to add but if Xuxi had a lover, kidnapping would apply to the s/o or another party 👀) ✌🏾... so uh again just a thought... the memories arent... lets say consistent(?). Lkke in one of them, shes a secretary, in the other shes a teacher... okay I'm really gonna go with the theory I had. What if the dreams arent hers? Let's remember she and Ten dont have recollecting of coming to the Moon... and in that one Wardens Note Ten was shocked about info he learned at the end... I'm lost lmao. The memories arent hers, in each chapter theres a memory that may(be) include a character which is why the person is never mentioned. Another thing is that in some of the memories, she explicitly says that she has no control over what shes saying or doing which means that they happened in the past and since she has no recollection of them happening, theres a strong chance that shes experiencing it for the first time... which means that she is experiencing the dream through the original person 🤡

R: I had such half assed responses to these so lets just not type those out--

WIC? No, but also a little. The concept is there, but not really. But you were on the right track with Kun and Yangyang. But this did come out before we established that multiple timelines are a thing in Zemblanity, so I liked where you were going with this one! Technically, the memories aren’t hers, but at the same time they are.

{Prior to TIR4} Hendery might have gotten into an accident that involved severe burns…

T: Actually, I think Hendery got in a severe accident that involved 1st degree burns... and I read somewhere that if you get burned that you should put the wound underwater for 20 mins or waiting for paramedics (I'm waiting til you debunk this hehe) sO then baby was burned and since they in space... you know- gravity! And then since gravity is there, he needs to stay underwater so that he doesnt die cause of his burns 🤠

R: I mean, yes? Like medically yeah it’s best to put burns underwater as soon as you can (cold water preferably) but imagine having to stay underwater for 16 hours for a burn?I like it.HENDERY SWEETIE TOUCH THE STOVE-

WIC? Nah.

{Prior to TIR5} Xuxi’s definitely the man in Chapter 2’s dream sequences

T: OKAY SO LIKE- I'm positive of one of two things, the second chapter dream is (Y/n) and Xuxi cause in the interrogation room part 4, he mentioned how his wife is clumsy and that they havent been married for long and in that memory, the invisible person said how (Y/n) was clumsy and she mentioned how they were waiting to start a family which is a hint that they're married. So I'm pretty sure (watch me be wrong) that Xuxi was the invisible person in Chapter 2 illuding to yn being his wife now ----- but now wouldnt that mean that (Y/n)'s dead since she killed herself? Now listen, we all remember that theory of it being multiple versions of her being with all the inmates right? Well let's say that that theory is true, we basically have some sort of evidence illuding to that. Both versions so far of the wife/girlfriend has died and if it's all those timelines crashed together, itll make sense as to why they all know her (one way or another)... 👁👄👁

R: Ooooh interesting, alright how about the other dreams now 😗 I’m interested in this theory, That is also true, according to the basic logic of the multiple lives/timelines theory

But is it what’s happening in Zemblanity?😗

WIC? Yup. I actually never intended for the dreams to be purposely hidden, like literally the dreams subjects are who’s featured in the chapter HAHA but yeah. The only thing off about the theory is the last part tbh.

{Prior to Chapter 5} Xiaojun knows everything

T: Okay so the girl always dies and there has to be something about her that warrants that. Xiaojun said he knows/remembers more than the other inmates so that could be what he is holding back from the warden.. Maybe he knows the reason why? Maybe he has some other information? All I know is, from what we've learned, Xiaojun really did do "what he had to do" and there has to be some other thing he did that would have warranted him going to Sector V because that can't be it.

R: Maybe so 😗

But that will be revealed with time

WIC? Xiaojun does know what happened in the last timeline, so whatever he learned back there transferred over. So yeah, kind of

{Prior to Chapter 6} The Dream Guy in Chapter 5 is Hendery

T: the dream guy in chapter 5 is hendery cuz the dreams seem royal-ish and the guy gave me “prince” feels and technically hendery’s a prince so yeah. and he said his true self will be hiding behind a facade and hendery seems like he has a split personality. so basically he got his new personality by repressing memories of (y/n) (he was the only one who seem to not know (y/n) when they met). and also the way the “king/prince” said “Don’t.” (tea scenario) and hendery said “Don’t” gave me chills

R: Nice catch 😏 I’ll admit you’re on the same path as many other readers, very good 👍

WIC? Yuuup.

{Prior to Chapter 6} The Multiple Timeline Theory (Note that many people contributed to these so they may not be consistent)

T1: So like my theory is that the boys had met (y/n) in different timelines?? Like for example Kun is timeline 1, and (y/n) had died there??? — jongin smth. And theen on her next time line— she met lucas idk its smth like reincarnation or just like because sector v has a unique time and reality. Like they all lived in different realities but sector v connects all of those realities— in which (y/n) was also in. And another theory (since best friend and boyfriend conflict goes on throughout the previous chapters) each wayv member is like the bestfriend or boyfriend of (y/n) each timeline— like ten in this present timeline Buuuut i cant explain why yangyang is the one on 7th timeline whilst ten was currently the one (y/n) knows personally

Add on: I was reading anons theory and I was thinking the same thing. Because time is different In the sector that allows them to be in the same timeline. (Think ATEEZ new concept where they all knew each other but got separated, but are coming together again.) This would also explain all of the different voices that Y/N hears and how in the warden noted that Ten is starting to piece things together.

R: (½) I said this in the previous post but I actually really like this theory, it’s a very interesting take on what’s going on. Posting this one first so it appears below the first part!! Ooooh this one’s different from the ones I’ve read so far, I like where you’re going with this one anon, props to you for cutting from a different fabric!

Ooooh and the theory deepens, you guys are so creative I love it 🥰

WIC? Not far off the mark, but not a bullseye.

{Prior to Chapter 8’s Release} The inmate from 2022 (mentioned in TIR6 and TIR8) is Ten

T1: So I wanted to write it in the comments but I have an idea and wanted to write "directly" (I also don't use ask option a lot so also It will be multiple part so sorry 🥺🙏) I got a sudden idea while looking at the dates of the newest interrogation room and the dates of when the Inmates were brought to Sector V and... I think I got something... Kun, who was the first one to come to sector V, first came in February but the Interrogation takes place in January and a whole ass moth before it. 

So I came to a sudden realization that there was a 7th Inmate who allegedly killed himself. And then my mind made a connection to Ten who in the MV and promotion shots was shown to have the same V tattoo as the others. Could it be that Ten was the original Inmate? It would kinda add up i think. Like there is a possibility that The Warden (our Father) was fed up with him and killed him but filed it in reports as a suicide. 

It could be that it isn't our Ten because if my Multiverse Theory is right that would open a lot of possibilities. It could be a wierd coincidence to have two Ten's in the same Building (not that I'm complaining) so it could be less likely. But I have two versions of the theory. The second being that neither Ten or we have a recollection of how and why we were brought to the moon station. Which in on itself is pretty fishy. But to assume for a second that Ten was convinced of Murder... 

And maybe he was tortured to the point of amnesia and/or memory loss and then tossed out of the Sector with some false memories but somewhere in his head he “remembers” (something like deja vu) about what happened “last time” and when she wants to meet the others he tries to prevent it. 

Underneath there, somewhere in his mind he knows what he did wrong and tries to prevent it from happening again. He knows that whatever happened to us can happen again if we meet the others. Or we are all in a loop and Ten is like Sans from Undertale and knows it all and has godlike powers. Idk mate it's 1 Am in Germany and I'm basically sleeping at this point. But remember it's just a theory. A Zembalty Theory. (hopefully I wrote it right) also sorry for spamming your inbox 🙏🥺Love you

R: Yessssss, also I like this theory, more answers will be revealed soon. 

That is true 👀 But if I recall correctly, I believe it was the eighth inmate that offend himself 🤔 but it is an interesting theory, I’ll give you that. 

I have grown very fond of the multiverse theory, there’s a lot of space for it to grow. But as for your second theory it would tie in the missing files from both 2004 and 2019 😗

WIC? Ten was, indeed, the original inmate. Also I did allude to their being a “time loop” of sorts in much of Xiaojun’s parts.

T2: Theory time hehehe The inmate from 2022 was actually Ten- and he was bargaining with (y/n)’s father (who i assumed did not die in the original timeline) for smth (like he requested Ten to go back in time since he mentioned that Ten figured out a way to travel through time) *i connected the time paradox here wherein one goes back in time so things change in the future. 

But then Ten betrayed the previous warden and killed him (past of warden)— thats why his death is still a mystery—- and this leads to the current timeline where Ten becomes the warden instead of (y/n)’s father living up till 2022— and this also leads to Ten not knowing what he did on the other “future” and probably not being a criminal— (but that would also mean the deal wont happen right? Idk anymore)

and probably the old warden requested him to go back to 2004??? “As long as you refrain from killing anyone else, you should be fine, I’m sure you’ll remember at least that much.” Also take note of this— its like if Ten* refrains from killinganyone else from the past then he’ll remember atleast some parts of their deal when the future changes

So ye this is me trying to understand the masterpiece called Zemblanity. Kudos to you for making my brain active during quarantine 🥰

oof i forgot a detail —- thats why Ten (as (y/n)’s bestfriend and warden) doubts if he could even trust himself— and why his populace records is a mystery to (y/n) Anyways thank you for taking your time to read these! 🥰☺️

R: Now this is a theory I enjoy! Very well thought out, but I must say, although it hasn’t been explicitly stated I assume is implicitly understood, the Warden has some control over the timelines considering that each inmate is, theoretically, from a different timeline. For Ten to be able to do it, assuming he is the unknown inmate, he would have to have already gained the status of Warden, which is impossible considering that the old Warden is still alive.

Ah yes, a classic time paradox, we certainly love those, don’t we? If only we were at that part in Zemblanity where the rules of Time were strictly laid out, but alas, we are not. So for now we will settle for this paradox that if Ten was thrown back in time and killed the Warden, the conversation will never have taken place, and Ten would have never, theoretically, been sent back in time.But then again if the Warden wasn’t killed and the conversation did take place, that would establish an entire time loop, wouldn’t it? Just Ten constantly going back to 2004 and reliving everything only to be sent back again, and again, I wonder what needs to be done differently, hmm…

This is a possibility, and I was going to mention it in the (2) of this ask, but I actually found that it would make more sense to put it in here. If Ten was, theoretically, sent back in time, how would you explain (Y/N) and Ten having memories of when they were toddlers? Assuming you’re intending that if Ten was sent back in time he’d still be a full age adult.

It’s no problem, I’m trying my best to keep your minds sharp while we all spend our days in our homes hehe… Ohhh and thank you! I’m so glad you enjoy my little (okay actually huge) story of Zemblanity!!!

This is a theory I like a lot, I can tell you put a lot of thought into it! But it would explain why there are some lapses in Ten’s judgment as to who he can trust, and it would also explain why (Y/N) had to search up Ten’s name in her Records database

WIC? Actually, this is probably the closest one to the truth anyone has ever gotten. Props to you, anon!

T3: Did they agree to have Ten stay out of it so he was there to protect YN since none of them could do it cause they clingy af and would of started a war and killed each other 👀🙊 and cause they mental health is deteriorating more and more in the Sector they willing to throw Ten out the way to get her back 🤔🤔🤔

AAAAAAALSO!!!!! Rereading the Warden Notes, there was mentioned of 8 inmates but the 8th killed himself so it was decided to be maxed out at 7.......who be the 7th inmate..... I swear tf if I'm right about Ten imma be needing at least 4 bottles of wine to cope, however if I'm wrong! I'm still gonna need them 🙊 (I'm so sorry, these were all EUREKA moments.....i didn't mean to spam)

R: Ooh I like this one, but I do have to say why Ten? But if this is true, I’d argue that either Kun or Hendery could’ve done it too, Kun’s a patient character and Hendery’s pretty chill. Plus according to the story line Ten and (Y/N) came when they were toddlers and both have memories of such, hmm…. 🤔

FOUR BOTTLES AHAHAHAHA. Also noooo I don’t mind spam at all, love, so don’t worry ❤️ But yes I do acknowledge that I wrote that the Sector is maxed out at 7 but I will also say that it doesn’t necessarily mean that there were seven at the start of the story 👀

WIC? Sadly, no :(

Special Questions

So... what happened to the 2004 Flight Records?

To put it simply, the Warden (Park Hyunjun) destroyed them. The Sector works in strange ways, as seen when the tapes from TL8 transferred over to TL9 for (Y/N) to see them. This is a special power of the Warden, the ability to allow items to transcend different timelines, which is only possible in Sector V (due to it’s independence of most of the rules of time). During his final negotiation with TL8 Ten, prior to sending him back in time to prevent the total destruction of the moon colony, he implies that he’d leave everything in place for the paradox item to find it’s way to Ten, and he’d keep him under watch.

However, Ten didn’t come to the moon in 2004. Now this is on me, I never explicitly said it, only left clues for it to be found. The records were damaged, but why? Every inmate has access to the Records room, but none have an incentive to destroy it, except for the one person it would apply to, in this case Ten. The Warden is implied to have special abilities in the Moon Colony, usually to prioritize the greater good of the Colony (i.e. calling the shots for executions, destroying cards, withholding evidence, etc.)

Now, TL9 Ten couldn’t have destroyed the records, why would he? But, I’ve mentioned on occassion that Ten was “always at war with himself” and, I quote from Ch. 1, “Sometimes [he has] to remind [himself] that [he’s] the Warden.”

There isn’t significant evidence that Ten wasn’t on that flight, but on the other hand there isn’t evidence that he was. All we have to go off of is the damaged flight records and what the Warden said in his tapes prior to being killed.

Do with that what you may.

Who was the eighth inmate who killed himself?

Sadly, no one actually important to the main story. He was just there so I can establish why there were only six inmates in the Sector at the beginning of Zemblanity, and why Ten was able to get convicted in there after the fact.

What about 2019′s records?

That was just a way to throw you all off, haha, it seemed like it worked. I never said that there weren’t any 2019 records, they were just tampered with and Mark had to reenter them, and I’ve long established that their Supervisor tends to make them work more since he’s that shitty a person.

#zemblanity #my writings #spoilers

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Shackled Chapter 10

Summary: After nearly ten years, Sam Winchester calls Miriam Bard to collect on a life debt. Unfortunately for Miriam, Sam leaves out a few important details.

WARNINGS CHANGE EACH CHAPTER, PLEASE CHECK EACH TIME. 

Warning: Show level violence, implied loss of family, grieving, depression, spiraling, cursing, mentions of Demon!Dean, emotional manipulation, mind fuckery, psychological manipulation, questioning one’s sanity, emotional exhaustion, suicide attempt, mention of previous suicide attempt.

Word Count: 3165

Author’s Note: Please read the warnings. PLEASE read the warnings. Thanks to @cracksinthewalls​ for the mega beta. Also, please read the warnings.

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY. 

In case you missed it: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 Masterlist

Chapter 10

Miriam didn’t know how long she’d been sitting on the bedside, staring at the gun clenched in her nerveless fingers. How did she get here? She'd been standing in front of Dean, reeling from the terrible truths he’d forced her to face, and then she found herself here.

In the unfamiliar, anachronistic setting of her room in the bunker, no sound except the barest whisper of the air system, Miriam was blurry and out of focus. She couldn’t feel the bed beneath her legs, the freezing floor under her feet. 

Was she even awake?

Doesn’t matter, she thought. Everything he’d said was true. He had seen right through every one of her denials and shattered all of her self-crafted delusions. She had failed everyone and everything of consequence to her. At this point, it no longer mattered how or why. She had nothing left but the pain.

She took in a slow, shaking breath through her nose, let it out through her mouth.

Setting him free was out of the question. She wasn’t going to beg him, compromise the last shred of self she had left making a devil’s bargain, and he knew it. Dean was right. She had one choice left to make, one more chance to get it right.

One way out.

She stood, legs moving of their own accord, and crossed the small room. She rested the gun on the rim of the sink, staring down at her fingers as they gripped the cold metal. One more breath, in then out, and she looked up into the mirror. 

Aaron’s face looked sorrowfully back at her. She drank him in, the rip of his loss tearing deeper. Her empty hand traced the lines of his forehead, his cheekbones, the nose their family had inherited from generations back on her mother’s side. When she met his gaze, she saw tears in his eyes as he raised his palm, and she pressed her hand to the image of his.

Her mind flashed back suddenly, and she was standing not in the bunker but in the rundown motel room she and Aaron had rented for that last hunt. She’d come back two weeks after his funeral with the desperate idea that she could find something he might have imprinted on, some object holding his spirit so she could conjure him, tell him to his face she knew how badly she’d messed up.

That she was sorry.

She’d stared into the mirror for hours, and he had stared right back, but she knew in her heart it wasn’t really her brother. The despair had swelled, risen to a crescendo, and she’d raised the gun, placed it to her temple, gone so far as to cock her weapon. She stood, shaking, staring in the mirror until her nerves and her hand failed her.

When the sun rose the next day, she unloaded her gun, shoved it to the bottom of her duffel, and didn’t look at it again until nearly a year later when Sam Winchester called in her blood debt.

Failure upon failure.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Her own face was wet, cold, but she kept her hand pressed to the glass. “I love you.” Then Aaron was gone, and she was left in the empty room, her stricken reflection gazing back at her. Alone. 

Yeah, that makes sense, she thought. One last breath, in then out. I can do this. One last chance to get it right. 

She raised the gun.

Before she could draw back the hammer, a hand shot across her field of vision, closing around her wrist and pulling her around. The gun fell from her grip as she reflexively shoved at her attacker. She jerked to the side, her lips drawing back in a desperate snarl, and struck with her free hand again.

“Miriam, stop! It’s me!”

Sam’s frantic voice reached her through a storm of anguish, and she stilled in his grasp. He kept his hold on her forearm, his face flushed with confusion and dismay. They stared at each other, panting, for a long, loaded pause before Sam finally broke the silence.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Maybe he was apologizing for leaving so much out before asking this of her. Maybe he was apologizing for asking this of her at all. Maybe he was expressing empathy at her whole situation. Whatever the reason, Miriam’s heart began to calm at his words. Her expression must have relaxed because Sam’s shoulders slumped as he let out a breath and released her arm.

“I called to check in before the priest started his ritual, and your phone went straight to voicemail. I got back here as fast as I could. What-”

Miriam drew back her fist, catching Sam across his cheek, snapping his face to the side. She felt this punch like she hadn’t felt any of the times she hit Dean, and it shocked her arm all the way up to her shoulder. It hurt like hell, and she felt relief spreading through her abdomen.

“We need to talk.”

Sam straightened and turned back to her, his face comically stunned. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before clamping his lips shut. His eyes clenched shut, and he sucked in a steadying breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his good hand. Then he opened his eyes and gave her a tense, tight-lipped smile. 

“Yeah. We do. Hungry?”

…

Neither of them knew the best place to start, so, as they began assembling some sandwiches, Miriam simply began updating Sam on everything that had gone down since his departure. She figured there wasn’t much point in hiding anything that had happened; Dean would probably tell Sam anyway, if for no other reason than to get under both their respective skins.

Recalling the order of events was difficult, she realized, and when she added up how little time had actually passed, she was shocked. 

It felt like at least a week, she thought. 

Sam managed to hold his tongue through her entire recounting, though his face had gone through the full spectrum of reds and purples when she’d told him about the nightmares. When she got to her very last encounter with his brother, Sam nearly cut off his finger along with the cheese he was slicing. 

The choking noise coming from his mouth didn’t do anything to alleviate her concern.

After he caught his breath and chugged down the glass of water Miriam provided, he and Miriam moved over to the long table, sitting side by side. Miriam didn’t know about Sam, but she didn’t particularly feel like making eye contact with the younger Winchester just now, even if his coloring was gradually returning to normal.

Though both of them needed the fuel, neither Sam nor Miriam seemed particularly inclined to eat.

“Your turn,” Miriam said, unable to stand yet another bout of long, uncomfortable silence. “You left me with zero clue and almost as little prep. What the hell, Sam, you and I are supposed to be the smart ones. What’s going on with Dean? This ritual?”

Sam’s eyebrows lowered, and he straightened, all set to put her off or argue, but he was cut off by the slam of her fist on the table. Their plates clanged, jittering dangerously close to the edge.

“Dammit, Sam, my life is literally on the line here! I don’t care about your bruised pride, I don’t care about your stupid secrets. You called me here, you exposed me to that demon with barely any warning at all. Tell me the truth, and don’t you dare try to bullshit me.”

She watched the wind drain from Sam’s metaphorical sails. His shoulders slumped as he propped his forehead up in his good hand.

“You’re right, of course you’re right. I’m sorry. Let me just...Okay, yeah. But it’s gotta be a summarized version, otherwise we’ll be here all night.”

He offered her a fragile half-smile, and though she didn’t return it, she relented enough to drop her scowl. 

“A while back, Dean got something called the Mark of Cain. Yes, the mark on his arm, and yes, the Cain. From the Bible. Long story very, very short. It ate away at him. Made him want, need to hurt, to kill. There was this old weapon, the First Blade, and we needed it to end this huge threat. And then…He...Dean died. I brought him back here, carried him…”

His voice trailed off, his lips working hard as his neck and shoulders tensed. He squeezed his eyes shut, and Miriam reached out, tentatively laying her hand on his arm. He huffed out a sharp breath and continued.

“And then he came back, but as a demon. He took off with...another demon, and they were gone for weeks. I hunted him, I never gave up on him. I...did some really terrible-”

Sam stopped, his lips pressed together so hard they turned white. He steeled himself and looked over, meeting Miriam’s eyes for the first time since they’d started talking. 

“I did what I had to, to get my brother back, and I will keep doing exactly that.”

There wasn’t much she could argue against that. She would have preferred more details about exactly what terrible things Sam had done, but Sam’s transgressions were irrelevant to their current situation. He would have to face his own consequences eventually, and her getting the dirty gossip now was not priority.

“So that mark on Dean’s arm more or less turned him into a demon,” Miriam asked, not sure what else to say.

Sam nodded, picking at the crust of his bread. “It was changing him even before he  died, but it brought him back. I’m not sure it will actually let him die,” he added. 

“And the ritual? How’d you even find out about it?”

Sam looked down at his plate again and sighed. “Okay, again, summary. We needed to cure a demon in order to complete a trial.” He held up a hand to forestall Miriam’s question, and she sighed.

“I told you, here all night. I don’t have that kind of energy right now. Anyway, we found out the Men of Letters had created a ritual to cure a demon without damaging the host body. I had to find a hospital with the right kind of priest, get the blood blessed. There’s a spell, and I have to inject Dean with the blood. It’s not the most pleasant way to spend a weekend, but it’s my only shot to get my brother back now.”

Sam let out his breath, rolling both of his shoulders back with a painful popping noise. He glanced over at Miriam again, chewing on the inside of his lip as if he were struggling with a decision.

“Miriam, I’m sorry. For all of it. I knew about Aaron, I should have thought…I just...It’s Dean, my brother. People are hurt because of me. I hurt...tortured. I tortured a lot of demons, but I had to. I couldn’t-”

“I get it, Sam. I get all of it, even leaving the admittedly big details out. I’m not happy about it,” she added, narrowing her eyes at him. He had the decency to look properly embarrassed. “And you’d damned well better not leave something that vital out again. But, then again, it’s not like I was one hundred percent honest with you, either. If I had been at all smart, I could have told you I was in no shape.”

“How are you now?” he asked. “How are you really?” 

“I’m...here,” she answered. “Dean really got into my head, like you said he would, but all that mess was there to begin with. He just...he knew how to stir it all up, knew exactly what to say to get me to react how he wanted. And I did.”

They sat for several moments, lost in the memories of their own transgressions. Sam finally let out a breath and stood. He rested his fingertips on the table, his injured arm fidgeting in the sling. His jaw clenched, tension in every line of his rigid stance.

“Miriam, I don’t know if this is going to work. I’ve only done this once before, and it definitely started to work then, but I didn’t get to finish the ritual. I already gave Dean the first dose before I came to find you, and he reacted differently than I was expecting. It’s going to take several more doses, but...look, I know I have no right to ask anything else of you…”

He trailed off, lips trembling as he pinched them shut. His eyes were shining suddenly, red-rimmed and small, and he looked terribly vulnerable. He glanced up at the ceiling, clearing his throat. Miriam’s heart twisted, and she stood, reaching out to lay her hand on his shoulder.

“We can back each other up,” she said, adding, “but I can’t be alone with him again.”

Sam shook his head, unable to meet her eyes. She continued.

“You need to know I wasn’t magically fixed when you stopped me firing that gun, Sam. I haven’t changed my mind. You need help, and that much I can do, as long as you’ve got my back. But after this, I’m done. With everything.”

Sam’s face was stricken as his fingers tightened around hers. “Miriam, you can’t-”

“It’s not your call, Sam. I’m not your brother; it’s not up to you to fix me.”

Sam flinched as if she’d struck him physically, but she didn’t relent, and eventually, he nodded, though reluctantly. She released his shoulder and busied herself clearing up the food neither of them had been able to stomach after all.

Time to face the music, she thought randomly. At Sam’s questioning glance, she nodded and followed him from the kitchen. They stopped just outside the dungeon, and Sam raised his eyebrows at her.

“Are you sure? After what you and he...you don’t have to go in here. I can…”

“You don’t know exactly what this treatment is doing to him, you said it yourself,” she reminded him. “You’re here now, he’ll have to split his focus. We’re stronger together. Let’s get this over with.”

Sam nodded, steeled himself, and stepped inside. Miriam followed suit; the moment she stepped through the door, though, she could feel a slight but palpable difference. The pull to go to Dean was diminished. The hunger she had to admit she still felt when she looked at him was duller, less fierce.

The demon in question also seemed a little more subdued, a little more cautious. Dean straightened from his tired slump, green eyes narrowing at the two of them. He frowned, evincing disapproval as he clicked his tongue at Miriam.

“You know, when I didn’t hear a gunshot, I thought maybe you’d just found a quieter way to do it. Figured somebody couldn’t possibly be that big a failure at absolutely everything, but here you are.”

Sam busied himself pulling a huge, blood-filled syringe from a cooler on the table as Dean continued to eye Miriam. She picked up the remaining flask from the table, making a mental note to ask Sam if he had more holy water stashed somewhere in the bunker. She unscrewed the cap and turned to face Dean.

“Or maybe you just need another push,” Dean said quietly. His eyebrows lowered as he smiled straight at her, leaning forward earnestly. “I could scratch that itch all day. Get rid of Sammy, here, and we can-”

She flicked the holy water in his face, and Sam went in with the needle as Dean flinched back. Her heart stuttered as Dean cursed and growled in pain, his breath coming in short, distressed bursts. His skin flushed, darker than the last time she’d splashed him. Sweat broke out across his forehead as he thrashed against the ropes, his tendons standing out harshly under his flesh.

“Sam…” Miriam started, but she didn’t know what warning she should give. The draw she felt from Dean was definitely less now, so the blood was doing something to the demon aspect of him. Dean didn’t look like he was being cured of anything, though. 

He looked like he needed help.

“I don’t know what else to do but keep going,” Sam whispered, half to himself. 

“You could start by letting me out of these goddamn cuffs,” Dean groaned, his head rolling back as he struggled to catch his breath. “You’re killin’ me here, Sammy.”

Sam started towards Dean, but Miriam grabbed his arm. He turned tortured eyes on her, but she shook her head, urging him silently towards the door. Dean might be genuinely in distress, but if what Sam told her was true, they couldn't do anything to help him except continue the treatment. 

Sam resisted for one more heartbeat before allowing himself to be led from the dungeon. Miriam resolutely shut the door behind them and turned to Sam.

“You did it. We did it. Now we’ve just got to do it another half dozen times or so.”

Sam snorted, running a shaking hand up his face and back through his hair. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“What now?” she asked. A yawn escaped her before she could stuff it down, and Sam paused, taking in her drooping frame and exhausted stance.

“I think somebody could use a nap,” he said with a tired smile. She raised her eyebrow sharply, and he held up his hand in mock surrender. “I know, I know, we both do. We’ll take it in turns. I’ll stay up while you sleep, then swap out.”

She hesitated, torn between the aching exhaustion wearing her down and the fear of what always came when she slept.

“Sam, I don’t want to ask this of you, but I…I already had nightmares, and since I came here, they’ve gotten worse. Could you...god, I feel so pathetic asking, but could you sit with me? Not on the bed or anything creepy, and I get it if you need to prep something else for Dean’s treatment, but…”

She stopped, breathed, and forced the words past the lump in her throat. “I need to not be alone right now.”

If Sam had done anything but nod and take her hand, Miriam was pretty sure she would have disintegrated from shame. Instead, he simply led the way back to her room and pulled a chair up beside the head of the bed.

He sat silently, eyes downcast as she splashed water on her face and let her hair down. Miriam kicked off her shoes with growing anxiety, but when she lay down on top of the covers and closed her eyes, she felt Sam’s rough, warm hand closed over her own.

“I get it, Miri. I’ve got your back.”

She fell straight into a dead sleep, and for the first time in a year, she didn’t have a single dream.

…

Chapter 11

#SPN #spn fic #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #dean winchester #Demon Dean #demon!dean #Sam Winchester #original character #original female character #I am not known for being nice to my original characters #suicide attempt #mention of previous suicide attempt #Psychological Abuse #Psychological Manipulation #emotional manipulation #emotional abuse #depression #spiraling #I don't have a funny tag for this chapter #Sorry folks

[edelwoodsouls]

all roads lead - ch.2

When his mother dies, Stiles runs away, straight into danger - only to be saved by Peter Hale. Seven years later, after burying their alpha, Stiles and Malia return home.

Word Count: 2,065 | Also on Ao3 | Other Chapters: 1, 3, 4, 5,

Chapter 2: BOOKS

The bus drops them on the outskirts of Beacon Hills, and as it retreats back down the forest-hemmed road Stiles feels a desperate urge to run after it and beg the driver to take him back to New York.

Instead he swallows the fear that beats like his heart in his throat, and turns to face the sign in front of them, which reads Welcome to Beacon Hills, Please enjoy your stay in large, rust-marred letters.

Past that is the road into town, crowded by dense trees which tower into the sky on both sides. Stiles used to feel so at home in the woods, with their hushed magic and teeming life hidden just below the surface. But these woods are menacing, oppressively quiet but far from silent. These trees are old, centuries of memories imprinted in the whispers of their leaves and cracks in their bark.

"We've come this far." Malia's voice is like a shot in the quiet, cold air, snapping Stiles from his thoughts.

"I don't think we thought this through." Stiles replies. He's right, of course. It's only been four days since Malia stumbled across the article which mentions his dad - the sheriff of Beacon Hills closing yet another thought-unsolvable case only a handful of weeks ago - while she was searching for any remaining members of Peter's elusive family, or a trace of her mysterious mother. They packed light, buying a ticket on the first bus to California that very night.

He has no idea what he's doing. What could he possibly say to explain the last nine years to the father whose death he mourned almost a decade ago? How can he face what Stiles running away so soon after losing Claudia must have done to him?

"We can't turn back now." Malia sounds so sure of herself, so without doubt - it's a trait Stiles has always been jealous of, now more than ever. "And besides, we need to tell the Hales that Peter is dead."

"Pretty sure they already thought he was." Stiles snorts derisively despite himself. "Either that or they'll be glad to hear the news. There's a reason he refused to talk about them."

"Well then I want to meet them and punch them in the face."

"Sounds like a plan," Stiles concedes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he squeezes Malia's hand.

"Let's go then." She shoves him playfully, and he promptly trips over his own feet, landing with a thud beside his rucksack. "How can you be a big, bad alpha werewolf and still be clumsy?"

"Guess I'm just talented that way."

"It's a very impressive talent."

He takes a mock bow as he stands. "Thank you, thank you. I'm here all week."

Malia rolls her eyes and starts walking towards the town, leaving him to scoop up his bag and scramble after her.

~~~

Half an hour later finds them standing in the library in the centre of town. It's small, considering it's the only one in the entire town - low roofed and darkly lit, shelves stretching as far as the eye can see.

This would be Peter's idea of heaven. Stiles can imagine him - a less broken, teenage version of him - curling up behind the stacks, going through book after book, determined to read the whole damn library.

Even the smell, of old books and ink, reminds him of Peter.

Stiles blinks rapidly and forces himself to focus on the task at hand: research.

He's always been able to trust in 2AM internet spirals to find any information he desires - his aversion to Peter's dusty old tomes of lore is one of the things they argued over most - but of course these things can never be that simple. The Hale fire is a thing of mystery, its details buried under confusion and wrapped in conspiracy - almost as if someone went to great lengths to obscure the facts.

He wouldn't be surprised if that someone had been Peter. Know thy enemy, he would always say, a favourite refrain heavy with the weight of experience. What better way to fight an enemy than to make yourself unknowable?

They don't even know how many people died in the fire, how many survived. How long Peter's excruciating coma lasted. How he ended up stumbling across Stiles, sweeping him and Malia up in a whirwind of pack and safety and home. It wasn't something Peter prefered to dwell on, and even Malia never pushed.

Stiles tears his eyes away from the bank of admittedly ancient computers, turning regretfully to the newspaper archives, and gets to work.

It takes far longer than he'd like. His attention span has never been a trusted thing, either flitting between things like a bird or doubling down on one and letting the world fall away. As a wolf the impatience, the frustration, only grows.

What little he knows about the Hales is information he's collected, hoarded like gold in the tiny morsels he's been able to gather along with any information about Beacon Hills. The Hale family, a long line of wolves settled in Northen California. Settled there for a reason, the grapevine insists, though none can remember why. Power. Magic. It alls boils down to those two inextricable things, in Stiles' experience.

And then came January, 2005. The Wolf Moon. A family gathering gone awfully, terribly wrong. He finds, buried, in the wrong box, the newspaper for the day after. Electrical fire, the headline claims, though it is too soon after the incident for such a judgement to have been made. Eleven dead - the number burns into his eyes, and for a moment he's lost in imagining it, those last moments, the smell of ash on the wind. He feels sick.

Finally, he finds two names: Laura and Derek Hale, Peter's niece and nephew. The only other survivors of the fire. A passing mention in a middle page column announces them leaving Beacon Hills.

Leaving Peter.

A sudden flush of anger takes Stiles by surprise. He has to squeeze his eyes shut to hide his flickering irises.

They left him. Alone, in agony, paralysed, and they fled, tearing away the one thing which might aid his healing. The warmth of pack, of family, replaced only by the burning memories of a house and life ablaze.

He'd known the story was bad, but still. Stiles feels sick, imagining how awful those months must have been. He feels hollow enough with one burnt and broken pack bond, cold in a way no fire could warm - but he has Malia, and her connection burns inside him, a guiding lantern in the dark, softening the edge.

Peter had a pack of thirteen reduced to two in an instant. And then those two lights had wandered far into the dark where even their glow would be useless.

No wonder he'd been so broken. No wonder he'd clung to Malia, to Stiles, like lifelines that might vanish like so much smoke.

Malia wanders over to his desk and seats herself on top of the table, ignoring the poisonous look the librarian gives her. "You're spiraling," she says shortly.

He pushes the newspaper article towards her. She wrinkles her nose - he's sure she would rather put her own arm in a vat of acid before having to read - but nonetheless skims over the words, a frown settling between her brows.

"Nothing we didn't already know," she says eventually, with a nochalance he knows is fake. Malia doesn't understand a lot about social cues or human interaction, but pack loyalty holds a close place in her heart. Shot at for most of her younger years by hunters, chased by other creatures in the Beacon Hills Preserve, abandoned by her own father for being too animal, too inhuman - the only safe haven she's ever known is Peter and Stiles. Her pack, always there, without question or demand.

Stiles sighs and nods, leaning to rest his forehead on her knee. She combs her fingers absently through his hair, and the gesture settles something inside him.

He's so tired. So lost. He feels as if he hasn't stopped moving, thinking, panicking in years. Was it really only weeks ago that he'd made a deal with the devil, let a fox crawl into his skin to save his pack, only for it to make a home there, to lead to that pack's very decimation?

And you'd do it again, he thinks, and he can't tell if the voice is a lingering other or his own. But he knows it's true. Better a quick and bloody death from the claws of mindless trickery than a slow and excruciating torture at the hands of hunters.

He wants to curl into a ball in the woods and never move again, but he forces himself to look up at his beta, his best friend, his sister. They've picked a direction to move, and until they can find steady ground again, it seems easiest to simply follow.

"Where to?" Malia asks, sensing his thoughts. Sometimes he wonders whether their pack bonds share more than connection, emotion, warmth. Then again, Malia knows his scent, knows his mind, perhaps better than she knows her own - as does he for her. They are in tune in a way deeper than words can surmise.

"The Hale house," he says slowly, "...or my dad's."

"Charred ruins and a possibly hostile pack of werewolves, or the grieving father you abandoned to alcoholism. Tough choice."

"You really know how to put sparkles on everything," he snipes. She tugs his hair almost painfully in response.

He weighs the options in his head for a moment, makes a show of thinking, but his heart has already decided. "My dad," he says. "He might be able to tell us what we need to know about the town. Give us the history, the inside track."

"And he isn't supernatural," Malia reads between the lines like they're the whole goddamn book.

"Yeah," Stiles admits.

He's had enough of the supernatural for a lifetime.

~~~

Unfortunately, life can never be that simple, and things have changed in the almost-decade Stiles has been gone. He knocks on the door of his old house, ignoring the ghosts of a buried past which curl around him. He doesn't dare wander directly into the sheriff's office, isn't sure how he'd handle that many guns and the overwhelming smell of death; only now, facing this monument of his buried regrets, he's not sure that's any worse-

The door swings open, and he finds himself face to face with a girl around his own age, all angles and dark hair.

She smells sharply of wolfsbane and iron.

He flinches back in surprise.. "You're not the sheriff."

"Last time I checked, yeah," the girl laughs. It's a nice sound, entirely at odds with the scent of violence on the air. "I'm Allison. My family moved here last year- this used to be the sheriff's house, though. Are you looking for him?"

Words fail Stiles entirely. Everything here is so wrong, on so many levels.

"We are," Malia steps in smoothly. "Could you tell us where to find him?"

"Have you tried the sheriff's station?"

Malia gives her such a deadpan glare even Stiles would cower under its full intensity. He's impressed by how long the girl - Allison - lasts before wilting, scrawling an address onto a post-it note and handing it over with a bashful smile.

He's never seen such an effective wolf in sheep's clothing.

Except perhaps himself.

He nods wordlessly at her, not trusting himself to speak, but as they turn to leave Allison speaks out. "What do you want with Stilinski anyway?" Her tone tries to sound benignly curious, but there's an edge to her voice, a personal concern that strikes him as odd.

Stiles pauses a moment before answering. "I owe him something, and I'm here to pay my debts."

The words are more true than he'd like to admit in their vagueness. He has no idea what he'll say, what he'll do, what he wants, he just knows that the path leads to his father, and that's where he has to follow. To talk. To explain. To fight. To apologise.

Something.

Nevertheless, the words have the desired effect - he tastes Allison's suspicion on the air and smiles, grabbing Malia's hand and walking away.

He's always loved courting danger a little too much.

#fanfiction #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #malia tate #allison argent #own work #morgan writes

[wandering-bitch]

Annotations on Falling in Love with Love (Again) pt 1

Falling in Love is my 3zun Cinderella/Qin Su Solidarity Fixit fic. It’s got some dumb angst, but i promise every ch with Angst (tm) has at least some soft gentle fluff with it. 

It’s structured like cinderella (servant gets surprised with the clothes + disguise for the ball, falls in love, runs away but leaves behind a trinket, gets found out later and happily ever after), but really it’s About recognizing the growth you’ve gone through, and uh. falling in love again. It’s also, to a lesser degree, about how important Qin Su is.

Notes on writing the first third of this below the cut

Every chapter title is a riff on a song lyric from Rogers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella (which you might remember as the Brandy and Whitney Houston movie from 1997). Title is “falling in love with love,” the BITCHIN ballad from the stepmother

i keep stumbling on cinderella aus from parts of 3zun and i never like them bc im picky so i started thinking about this and now im HERE, writing thousands of words and thinking about social shit

in this house we love qin su, by the way

Don’t Believe in Sensible Rules

this chapter was called “Enter the Fairy Godmother” in my outline

writing this fic made me like jin zixuan pfffff

look im not saying that qin su is fucking vital BUT

having qin su know that she’s meng yao’s sister means that he has someone who can empathize with wanting but hating jin guangshan’s attention, and so someone who can remind him that jin guangshan’s respect isn’t worth the effort

aka qin su being actively meng yao’s sister fucking stops him from making terrible choices aka this is my fixit.

originally i just was hand-waving away “it’s a good au bc i said so” but as i built the timeline more, i realized that it all comes down to qin su

which is valid!! because yeah, the middle and end of the fic are about qin su

anyway back to this first chapter

i know in canon qin su is probably younger than meng yao but counterpoint i wanted her to have more respect built into her role

what’s up with meng yao’s makeup? it’s a combination of opera + tang dynasty makeup!! 

you know that promo image of zzj playing an opera performer for a movie next year???  this one??? it’s basically this but on crack

if you’re not thinking about that promo image twice a week then i highly recommend u do it bc it certainly brings me joy and serotonin 

oh hmmm meng yao is wearing a fancy emotionally important accessory??? i wonder what might happen

You’ll Never Know a Finer Night

”a lovely night, a lovely night/ a finer night you know you’ll never see”

qin su + meng yao rights!!!

qin su + meng yao rights!!!

the mengyin han sect is something my spouse came up with for their Nie Parents fic that they’re never gonna write.

you should bug @isimplydonotvibewithjgy to write it. why???

it’s about happy healthy nie parent polyamory!!! 

nie huaisang is named in part after nie mingjue’s mother’s sword

meng yao is only a little bit kidding about stealing a baby for qin su. qin su, in turn, is only a little bit kidding about stealing a baby for meng yao

meng yao fucking with wangxian is very important to me, a bitch

Back In the Past, lan xichen wasn’t so much Jealous as he was frustrated with himself for not saying anything for so long (so long was barely a few months)

“second daughter of a third rate sect” is the type of dumb meng yao shit i love

qin!!!! su!!!! rights!!!!!!!

Most Entrancing Sight Of All

from “the greatest love,” the first song from the brandy version

i actually hate this song whoops

i lov every time i get to write meng yao being clever

it is very convenient for me that im writing the entire fic from his perspective

it’s sword content!!!! hooray!!!!

i looked up so much sword dancing for this it made me so happy

swords!!! good!!!

i do wish i had been better at figuring out ways meng yao could eat li bolin alive, but i wrote it, it’s done, im never editing it again

sword! content!!

The Sweet Invention of a Lover’s Dream

AWWW YEAH my favorite chapter because the xiyao troll showed up and said “oh so meng yao’s a selfish little slut now then” and i think about that every fucking day

the title is from “do i love you” 

the breakup was hard to write bc like. neither’s in the Wrong, sometimes u just don’t fit, and that sucks

like it wasn’t Hard emotionally, but it was hard to balance properly

“Eat Wen Xu Alive” -- meng yao

in my early draft, meng yao + qin su had an agreement to check on each other every hour. i scrapped that but u can see 

“time to meddle”

i had fun learning about azaleas + azalea poisoning

i spent SO LONG trying to decide who meng yao would pin the poisoning on but settled on the li sect being complicit in wen imperialism

nie mingjue is here because nie huaisang whined about it. lan xichen is here because he wants to date someone to move on from meng yao

what’s that? he’s dating nie mingjue? that’s not enough to move on? no, actually, it isn’t

sorry lan xichen the way to move on is just time, not dating

to be clear it’s not that lan xichen is greedy or nie mingjue Isn’t Enough, it’s just that there’s an ache still in lxc’s heart

(there’s an ache still in nmj’s heart)

we’ll actually go over all of this in an auxiliary chapter where nmj + lxc snuggle in the middle of the night

healthy polyamory rights

in case it’s somehow not Obvious, the song lxc is distracted by reminds him of meng yao. 

lxc is one hundred percent that friend who doesn’t let u say anything slightly mean about urself

my one ex specifically wouldn’t let me say i wasn’t smart enough to talk about a sociological issue/socialism thing. it was so sweet honestly

like she would let me not have an opinion but i couldn’t say i wasn’t smart enough

lxc is so proud of himself for that “tell me what this song is about” line and he SHOULD be. it WAS sexy it WAS polite it WAS a good line!!!

im not tooting my own horn im just talking about lxc being a polite, sexy hunk

never forget: so meng yao is just a selfish little slut then lol ok

come back next time for ch 5-8 where we see boys being cute and together and also where qin su gets many more rights

#mo dao zu shi #lan xichen #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #mdzs #3zun #behind the scenes #falling in love with love

[fauzhee10069]

The Wildest Theories of Caato (JoJolion)

This might be my last post about analyzing and debunking the hype of Caato. Maybe some of you are also getting tired, though I myself am also tired with those Caatofags who still appear occasionally. Back to the topic, here are the theories I mean:

”Caato is a rock human with an agenda”

Due to the strange shadow in her eyes during her first intro, the readers were theorizing about the possibility whether Caato is a fusion-human like Josuke or a rock-human.

But according to the colored manga, she doesn't have two different eye colors like Josuke. Besides, I noticed that Caato's eyes do not have the small cracks that signaled a fusion like him, only weird dark shadows.

I have also explained further about this issue in my previous post below:

How the manga coloring team determined that Caato doesn’t have split eyes

So I will skip this and immediately explain the theory of her as a rock-human. If the basis of this theory is her so called splitted-eyes, this is less acceptable, because it is not part of the rock-human’s characteristic.

Yagiyama Yotsuyu

Dainenjiyama Aishou

Damo Tamaki

a rock-woman

Moreover, it also contradicts the need for rock-humans to blend with ordinary human.

The other basis of the theory is the youthful looking Caato had, especially when she was compared to Holy's first appearance. It has been explained that rock-humans don’t age gradually, instead they grow by molting and changing their form all at once. They have longer life span than ordinary human and can look much younger than their actual age.

Even so, her youthful looking had little relevance to the plot. I think Araki simply likes to draw hot milf as callback to Lisa Lisa.

This theory also continues with the notion that Caato has an agenda… or mission, either as an agent or the mastermind herself. Whatever the agenda is, it is also associated with Higashikata family curse, the hereditary rock disease. Readers have thought about the theory of how the Higashikata got the rock disease curse, one of them speculated that they were cursed by the rock-humans. I also believe that this has something to do with the rock-humans (hopefully Tooru will reveal it in the future).

From this speculation, a crazy idea emerged from a reader that there was a forbidden love relationship between a rock-human and a Higashikata (as a mere human), born of the fruit of love from them who since then passed on the rock disease.

Then the connection with Caato as a rock-human is that she had a role in Johnny Joestar's death and the birth of equivalent exchange ability in Higashikata’s land, perhaps the rock-humans also needed to obtain the Holy Corpse.

In her current mission, Caato approached the Higashikata and successfully married to Norisuke IV, which should have made it easier for her to complete the whatever mission. But on the way, she made mistake and accidentally ended up having four children with him. Hmmm… that sounds intriguing- nah, THIS SOUNDS STUPID!

Why would you make this mistake by accidentally having kids… repeatedly?? It would make sense if it is only once (like Diavolo->Trish’s case), but four times? I doubt they were accidents, of course they were planned as it was implied in the family tree.

In addition, this reader must have missed a crucial fact about rock-humans: they could not have children with ordinary humans as they are biologically incompatible.

JJL chapter 46: Love Love Deluxe - part 4

If Caato is a rock-human, it is impossible to her to bear a single Norisuke IV’s child, let alone four- NO, it’s still possible actually.

!!! Spoiler of chapter 99 !!!

The most recent chapter of JoJolion (ch 99) added more information about rock-humans that:

JJL chapter 99: Endless Calamity – part 5

Therefore, if Caato a rock-human, it’s still possible for her to have child with an ordinary human (Norisuke IV). Theories regarding rock disease curse as a result of “this relationship” have also become increasingly possible. However:

The rock-women don’t have strong affection or bond to the child they gave birth and Caato certainly has affection and strong bond to her children as it was shown in her flashback.

Besides, the rock-baby at birth is only as big as beetles.

And we have seen how big Caato was when she was pregnant.

We’ve also seen baby Daiya in the flashback as well and how her children grew up like any normal human in contrast to the rock-human who lived as parasites in a wasp hive for 17 years until they began to venture into the outside world.

Wise non-Caatofag readers have said:

I like how the chapter 99 raises the theory that Caato is a rock-woman, with the fact that only rock-women and humans can have children, and AT THE SAME TIME disproves it by literally showing us how rock-women give birth to their children.

If Caato was a rock-human then that would've meant everyone except Norisuke IV and Mitsuba were rock-humans, and Tsurugi wouldn't have existed.

Moreover, if Caato was the reason for the curse upon the Higashikata, what about Rina who also contracted long before Norisuke IV and his children were born?

JJL chapter 21: Shakedown Road – part 4

If indeed the Higashikata family was hit by a curse due to forbidden relationship with a rock-human, rather than Caato, I think it is more appropriate to suspect Teru (Norisuke I's wife) that she could be a rock-human.

Caato was created as a comparison between Higashikata mothers’ role regarding of their decision and action in dealing with rock-disease and the knowledge of equivalent exchange as shown in JJL chapter 64 (her infamous flashback).

It is acceptable if this theory was created before chapter 64 was released, but pretty dumb if it came after the chapter was released.

There are still a lot of forced arguments issued by her supporters that you can read further here: Is Caato a Rock-Woman?

”Caato is descendant of Funny Valentine”

WHAT THE- How? I believe this is just a pure crack theory, there is absolutely no basis to strengthen this theory… other than their sorta similar hair curls:

The second one kinda reminds of Valentine’s under the effect of Tusk Act 4

And a silly word play in which the connection between Valentine and Caato would form the word: "Valentine Card." If you want to use puns, I recommend learning Japanese first! Because the explanation of the name "Caato" as a reference to "Card" is much more complicated than you might think.

Other than that, their links are very far away, one is American and the other is Japanese, one is blonde and the other is dark haired, etc (it is still possible though, considering the generation gap).

Hair curls aside, the hype of Caato’s Stand which often compared to D4C due to the similarity of their theme and mechanism (dimension-based and caught-in-between) might strengthen the relation of her as Valentine’s descendant.

But I think this should not be considered, given that some Stand users with blood relations such as Joseph-Josuke-Jotaro-Jolyne, DIO-Giorno, and Diavolo-Trish, even Caato and her own children (etc), each have Stands whose mechanism, design and theme are very different to each other.

Perhaps this theory was created to validate Caato's relation with the Holy Corpse and her hype as the main villain. However, the main villains in JoJo never had blood relationship between them. Their relationship is only “causal connection”:

and it should have been connected to “Dio” instead (LOL)

Besides, the curls in Caato's hair are also inconsistent, often not visible or even ignored.

her hair resembles more like bee abdomen

Also, don’t forget how her hair looked in her first intro:

where’s the curl? her hair looked very straight

She also has different hairstyle in the past.

It is not her curls that are consistent, but her “twin buns”. Of course, based on her hairstyle, it will make much more sense to regard her as an AU version of Jolyne than to link her as Valentine’s descendant. Moreover, Araki also put some call-backs such as the name of the prison where she was incarcerated (Stone Ocean), the duration of her sentence (15 years, the initial sentence of Jolyne) and the reason of her incarceration (murder).

And last, this reader again missed (I'm more sure that he deliberately ignored) an obvious fact that Valentine and his wife had no children.

SBR chapter 61: Both Sides Now - part 2

Maybe this reader used the argument that some characters in JoJo such as Joseph and DIO have illegitimate children they didn't know about. Considering Valentine's willingness to have sex with other woman and his relationship with his wife which implied not so harmonious (he didn't really mind his wife’s death & his wife was a cheater as well), he might accidentally sired bastard child.

But this possibility is not confirmed yet and it will be more ridiculous to use this unproven theory over the canon statement Valentine said in SBR chapter 61!

The idea of Caato as Valentine’s descendant is too silly and ridiculous, I’m gonna laugh my ass off.

These theories are too far-fetched and extremely forced.

#jojolion theory #kaato higashikata #jojo spoilers #my thoughts #jojo meta #jjba part 8 #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo's bizarre analysis #caato #rock humans jojo #funny valentine #stfu caatofags