#Nightingale At Dawn Writes
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A wise person once told me, I believe it was one of my former clients, that we should not be afraid to have failures because from these failures you would learn, and I definitely agree with him.
Failures are a part of life. Learning from these failures is an opportunity for you to grow as a person, and be a “work in progress”. Let them be your stepping stones to reaching your goals and being successful in life.
#blog#blogger#personal blog#silence speaks when words can't#nightingale at dawn writes#artsy ally lb#advice#life#mindset#motivational words#failures#lessons learned in life#stepping stones#success#reach your goals#personal growth#growth mindset#personal development#writers on tumblr#creative writing
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For I Have Sinned ୨୧ Chapter II
“Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave.” Songs of Solomon 8:6-7.
As newly appointed Duchess-To-Be, you have much to learn. Etiquette, conduct and eventual motherhood are the pillars you are expected to live by. Because who cares about your choosing?
The Chapel, tended to by a mercurial Priest, is the perfect refuge.
…right?
Pairing: Geto x female reader
A/N: The is dedicated to the artist ( @captainsalsaa ) I mean look at our fallen Angel. His tears. His frustration. Dear GOD.
To the artist: I stared at your piece, then heard a specific song on my writing playlist then wrote the entire last scene in one sitting. To date, it’s my favorite scene in my author’s portfolio. I hope I did our fallen Angel justice. Thank you for creating this 🤍
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CHAPTER II: Hello, Father.
“Awake early, little dove.”
Warm hands caress your shoulders. A welcome contrast to the chilly nautical dawn. The sun still has a ways to go, but songbirds have begun their wake up call.
“As are you, Arella.”
Your eyes float to your favorite maiden standing above you. No more than a handful of years older, but with a heart for you as if she raised you from birth.
“It’s my duty to tend to you, is it not?”
Soft laughter harmonizes with the nightingales. A quick kiss on your forehead before her warmth disappears off the balcony — undoubtedly to go retrieve a treat of some kind.
She’s not wrong.
Technically it is her duty.
But Arella is your blessing.
Matting and kneading your surroundings to fit your needs. Eager to dampen the growing pains of settling in a new home.
Constant hellos.
Permanent smiles.
Not too wide, like a promiscuous woman. But not too tight, like a cold prude.
Rooms to tour. Hands to shake. Garments to pin and tie and lace around your lungs as if your God-given ribcage was a frivolous extra not needed for life. Not needed to breathe.
Breathe.
Your lids screw shut. Pulling in as much of the balmy, saltwater breeze gliding up the steep rock face along the overhang.
Much like he did.
The Chaplain.
His hair cascading down his back in the same way poets monologue when inspired. His eyes a mural of what the Gods paint when they want to show off.
The way earth acquiesces to his touch as if he is the Creator. The birds choose to perform for him every morning. And the ocean exists to bathe him.
You cannot decide if the sorbet sunsets are created by the Chaplain. Or if the Gods fight over who gets the honor of painting him a new one each evening.
“Sleep still escapes you, precious girl.”
It does, but not for the reason she thinks.
“You worry too much, Arella. I’ll adjust soon.” The tea she brought you is delicious.
The both of you cross back into your quarters. The stagnant, perfumed air suddenly suffocating.
“I would like to go to the chapel garden.”
A quiet declaration that stills your handmaiden in her tracks. Then a small grin blossoms on her beautiful face. Fussing with your bedding. Wiping away evidence of your sleepless night.
“For the flowers that bloom, little dove? Or for the God that tends to them?”
The blood in your veins runs subzero.
“Arella! I am engaged to be marri—“
“Of course you are. But eyesight isn’t a sin.”
Another moment of feigned irritation before you burst into a fit of childish giggles. The both of you no better than school girls, covering your mouths, stifling your laughter.
“I just wanted to see you smile.” Arella gestures to your extravagant dresser across the room.
“In the second drawer you can find a casual garment. Come back with at least one hour to prepare for Mass.”
· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·
A hummingbird chaperones your walk to the church estate. Dulcet hums drown out the rattling heartbeat between your ears.
This is harmless.
It is not a sin to take in Earth’s natural candy. To appreciate God’s gift to humanity.
In all of his majestic glory.
Your eyes dart around as if your thoughts are a tangible scroll. Written in ink for the world to see.
Don’t be ridiculous, there’s no one around.
Just you. Your fluttering companions (both heart and bird). The waking sun. God above and his plants swaying in the gentle gusts of wind. You’re safe in your mind.
Until he decimates all logical and reasonable train of thought, that is.
You should be angry. Infuriated. That no one adequately prepared you for seeing the demigod for the first time. Even now, you question whether he’s flesh and blood.
Maybe an illusion?
The Lord playing tricks from his throne?
The mirage before you halts your paces. You can’t help but question your level consciousness.
Because this must be a dream.
“Oh, don’t be cruel.”
Words slip out of your mouth, currently ajar. It’s not your place to chastise the One above, but come on.
Your eyes taste the Chaplain for a second time and this course is even more decadent than the first.
There he stands.
A raven waterfall down his broad, muscular back. Half of it tied away from his face. Olive skin so rich the surrounding plants pale in comparison. Russet brown working pants hang loose around his tapered waist, but snug around his thighs. Various tools hooked in the belt loops. Heavy mahogany work boots match the worn leather gardening gloves fitted to his hands.
His hands.
Reaching for thorny vines plaguing his hydrangeas. Even at your distance you could detail each muscle fiber in his arm tense and release with every pull and toss.
Pull and toss.
Pull and toss.
You would have gotten lost in his rhythmic trance, if it weren’t for the symbol branded in charcoal sprawling his back. The emblem peeks through his thick hair, every now and again.
A spear?
No.
A trident. With waves snaking up its stalk along his spine.
His gravitational pull is overwhelming. Your feet move with more stealth than the King’s Guard.
“Working on the Day of Rest, Father?” Casual, measured.
“Duchess,” Saliva pools in your mouth. His smile teases your ears before he graces you with it.
“I have to start being more careful about my clothing.” A playful glint in his eyes.
“Especially now that I’ve been blessed with a fellow greenskeeper.”
He is a man of God.
And would never insinuate anything impure.
But that doesn’t stop your cunt from clenching around his words steeped in a baritone potent enough to rumble the ground beneath you.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve sent word that I was coming.”
“This palace belongs to you, Duchess. You are welcome here at any hour.” His hand captures a vine and tosses it into the pile without his eyes ever leaving yours.
You are weak.
And greedy.
The way your gaze drops to his arm. Desperately etching its contours into memory. Seconds, maybe minutes pass before you realize you were gawking. And the Chaplain just let you.
Head cocked to the side. Soft smile ghosting his full lips.
“Would you like to finish the tour of your new playground?”
“Y-yes. Of course, please.” Stumbling over the uneven cobblestone in your voice, you turn away to begin the coordinated stroll. The Priest slides his arms into a linen button up. Lazily fastening two center buttons only.
He informs you of the work that has already been done, what’s left. Where the soil is richest, where it is the most acidic. How the sun hits certain flowers at each hour of the day.
Brilliant.
With complete command over God’s bouquet. The sun following him wherever he steps.
“Did you enjoy your swim today, Father?” Both you and the Priest come to a slow stop. One of his angular eyebrows raised.
“I’m dry, Duchess.” He responds with a low, hypnotic chuckle.
Heat floods your cheeks. How could you be so presumptuous?
“What gave me away?”
Your knees nearly betray you. The razor sharp grin on his face could cut glass.
“You were born for the ocean. Or rather, the ocean was born for you.”
Your statement is greeted with blaring silence.
Lava in his gaze. Singeing every part of your face it touches. His expression is like a foreign language.
“I—I’ve overstepped, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. Clearly I have much to learn about social graces.” A meek apology bubbles out of your lips. Desperate to fill the space between your bodies.
The mercurial man shakes his head slightly. Thawed out from your statement, he reaches over and plucks a stray lilac petal resting on your crown.
“My father used to say the same.” He muses, looking away for the first time.
“Your father! Is he—“
“He was called home some time ago.” This smile is soft. Reminiscent. Polite, but his mind clearly elsewhere.
“Oh Father Geto, I’m so sorry.”
A foot in your mouth is not enough punishment for your indecency. Why would you go prodding like this?
“Don’t be, I’ll see him again. Soon enough.”
“Not too soon, I hope.” The statement draws a stunned gaze from the Chaplain. Eyes dancing between yours.
“Time to prepare for mass, little dove!” Arella’s melodic call tethers you back down from outer space.
You flicker over to her with a ruby dusting over your nose and cheeks. Like a child caught with her hand in a cookie jar before supper.
“Happy Sunday, Father!” Arella calls out, cheshire grin on her face deepening your crude blush.
“Indeed, Arella.” He returns the greeting while keeping his eyes on you.
“Send my regards to the Duke.” His voice lowers, for your ears only. With a nearly imperceptible edge to his tone.
“Happy Sunday, Duchess. We have a counseling session scheduled late afternoon, yes?”
A statement of pure black and white fact. And yet it travels down your spine and settles between your legs. Wet heat dampening your thin negligee.
“Yes, Father. Happy Sunday.”
· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·
Mass was miserable.
Your corset laced tight enough to meld your two lungs and beating heart into one entity. To say the neckline strangled you is putting it mildly. Cold, uninviting pews dug into your skin at every turn.
Wretched.
But the worst of it wasn’t the thin, oxygen-deficient air. Or the shards of glass that slid down your throat with every swallow. Even the jaw pain from tensing your lips in a well-mannered smile for two hours straight was tolerable.
The worst part of it was him.
The Priest mesmerized an entire congregation to an ear-splitting hush.
His first Sunday mass since appointment and nearly everyone in the country and every surrounding province stuffed into the chapel.
So desperate for blessings from Father Geto.
Could you blame them?
His voice danced in and out of the pews listlessly.
Soothing fussy children. Adolescent girls and their mother’s alike — utterly smitten. Adolescent boys experienced their first “I want to be like him” with their fathers sitting right next to them. Husbands glanced feverishly at the women in their lives.
He had to have noticed it. And yet, he floated above it all the entire service.
Above you.
Refusing to gift you those eyes that put Vincent Van Gogh to shame. No matter how much you shifted in your seat and straightened your spine.
The Priest spoke to everyone in the room but you.
Did you read him wrong?
Did you misinterpret your budding friendship?
Does it…should it even matter?
Your irritation is palpable. Innocent bystanders are caught in your friendly fire. Including Arella, who changed you out of that horrid costume. And sweet Noel, who ushered you into the seating area — just outside of the good Father’s office.
You make a mental note to send treats to the tender-hearted alter boy. And to apologize profusely to your handmaiden.
“You are a million miles away, darling.” The sound of your betrothed tows you out of the storm clouds.
You flicker over to the Duke. Emerald green eyes, high cheek bones — handsome in a way that is characteristic of everyone native to your new home.
“I’m right here, Ezra.”
“Are you, sweetheart?” The back of his hand caresses your cheek.
“Mmhm.” You offer your future husband a weak smile and kiss on his cheek. His eyes faltering slightly, undoubtedly hopeful for lips instead.
“Good afternoon, Duke and Duchess Ahriman.”
Father Geto’s velvet greeting encases you both. If Ezra’s arm didn’t guide you to stand you would have been paralyzed in your seat.
“Father Geto, a pleasure. Thank you for seeing us.” Ezra offers a genuine smile and handshake. Buying you a few extra seconds in your mind’s safe haven.
The Chaplain is tight lipped. Professional. He returns the handshake firmly.
“Pleasure is mine.”
Ezra shifts slightly on his feet. Straightening his spine and dropping his shoulders. Your eyes bounce between the Chaplain and your fiancé.
“I must say, Father. You are even more handsome up close. I speak for the men in this country, thank you for taking the vow of celibacy!” The words spill out of the Duke. Unknowingly thinning the air.
The Priest chuckles quietly, dropping his eyes briefly before landing them on you. And it feels like you could double over. Your core temperature skyrockets under his smoldering gaze.
He, the archer. You, the bullseye.
“Let’s get started, shall we?”
Ezra laces his fingers in yours, taking the two seats directly in front of the oak desk. A leather bound notebook and pheasant feather pen are neatly arranged — with your names on the first page.
Blue flame rises from your toes to hairline. You might as well have been sitting naked. With how exposed, how vulnerable you feel already.
“What will we be covering first, Father? Something about how wives should obey their husbands, right?” Ezra is light-hearted. Meant to be said in jest.
But he finds himself being the only party in the room laughing.
The Priest rolls the ink pen between his fingers. Allowing a deafening silence to coat the walls. His expression is neutral, but eyes ablaze.
“If the man in question is worthy of submission.” He starts. A low, ominous rumble.
“Uh, yes. Of course.” Ezra responds, shifting in his seat.
But the Chaplain does not stop. Intent on making a point, he leans in. Pen whirling lightning fast between his long, deft fingers. Enough tailwind to launch across the room, if he desired.
“If the man in question would give his life for his wife.” Volcanic eyes linger on you, then back to your fiancé. Ezra’s palm finds your thigh. You gnaw on your inner cheek to avoid flinching away.
“If he would love her like Christ loves all of his creations unconditionally. Unselfishly. Irrationally.”
“Yes, Father. I understand.”
“Only then, should she submit.” His serrated tone could split chromium with ease.
“Of course, of course.” Ezra wisely accepts defeat.
He presses a short kiss on your cheek as an apology that you didn’t ask for, nor do you want.
“Mmm.” A forced acknowledgment of the Duke’s affection through your pinched lips. Barely able to move under the Father’s microscopic gaze.
“Now then,” Father Geto clears the boulders in his throat.
“Tell me about your love.”
The question stuns both you and the Duke. Looking to each other sheepishly because neither of you chose this.
War is young men dying and old men talking. And your life path is no different. Dictated by conversations between the powers that be.
“We’ve only met a week ago, Father.” Your honesty drives both of his eyebrows upward.
“A week ago?”
“But we are hoping you can teach us.” The Duke, overeager and excitable.
“Teach you…?” Father Geto muses. You can’t quite interpret his tone, or minimal response. But your heart flutters all the same.
He is thinking something. And what you would give to get a glance. To be let in.
“Perhaps guide us?” Ezra gives an unintentionally painful squeeze on your thigh. You fail to muffle the tiny whimper.
The Priest’s eyes laser down to where your fiancé’s hand lays. Chest rising and falling dangerously slow.
“Right.”
Your eyes trail upwards as he stands. Closer to God than to you from this point of view.
“Duke, Duchess. You’ll have to accept my sincerest apologies.”
His fingers dip the unused pen back into the ink cup. The edges of his leather bound notebook coming together. Seemingly without any notes, but an entire script from this session swirling in his mind.
“My schedule is incorrect. I have another commitment. We will reschedule, yes?” Said with a finality that sends chills crawling down your spine.
The two of you stand. Another handshake between the men. A restrained nod for you.
Just as quickly as you were let in, Father Geto shuts you out of his office and his mind.
· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·
Suguru presses his forehead against the shower tile. Warm water raining down his loose mane. Soothing his sore, overworked limbs.
Today was maddening.
He nearly destroyed his vestment the minute that God-forsaken counseling session ended. Seeking refuge, he took to the coast.
And the sea provided anything but peace.
She was angry with him, tonight.
Curt. With unpredictable currents. Rip tides at nearly every turn. She tested his adaptation without mercy.
Just like that night.
“I’m going to stay on board, brother!”
Suguru flickered over to the silver-haired deckhand. An unfamiliar reservation opacifying his nearly translucent, iridescent eyes.
Brother in name, technically.
Their bloodlines were oil and water. He was a high born. Suguru was born unworthy of a beggar’s pity.
But, bloodlines were inconsequential when their souls were instep as one. Both handed to humanity on the same night. During a thunderstorm already inscribed in history books.
‘The Tide of Eternal Requiem.’
It brought complete devastation. Crops destroyed. Families torn apart by tragic accidents inland and at sea.
Then fate struck.
Within the same hour, a voltaic boy, with a halo that put the clouds to shame and diamond eyes that could draw truth from murderers was born into the loving embrace of his parents.
And Suguru was born with a crown so dark that the raging midnight appeared bright.
With eyes as ominous as the sky above.
Gunmetal grey, accented by an eerie violet swarm. Dormant volcanoes, threatening eruption. His birth mother abandoned him in an alley. Driven by fear that he was a bad omen from the Gods.
“Ahhh, Satoru come on. Since when do you shy away from a few waves?”
Suguru teased. Already well into the process of shedding his work gear.
“Zeus is the one rumored to be my father.” His counterpart flashed a knowing smile.
“Poseidon doesn’t watch over me like he does you, Suguru.”
A tsunami couldn’t keep Suguru from his home. Much less a little rain.
They were 3 miles away from the shoreline. Using his God-given ability, Suguru regularly acted as their scout. Performing his own reconnaissance then alerting the incoming ship of safe or turbulent terrain.
“Almost ready to go, son?”
His chosen father came up behind him. Suguru knew there were tears lining his meek eyes before turning to face him.
“Dad.” Suguru sighed, fully disrobed now. Just his muscular frame and a compression suit.
He met his father’s concerned gaze. Always like this during sea storms. Quiet prayers written all over his gentle features.
Despite the worry, he never once attempted to convince his oceanic boy to stay on board. It would have been too cruel.
“I’ll be fine, I’ve traversed angrier swells.”
“Suguru, take care of yourself when I’m gone.”
Elder, worn hands landed on his shoulders. Nearly too high for his reach. Suguru cocked his head to the side.
This goodbye was different.
“Stay on this path. For me. Albeit straight and narrow, there is a wonderful view. This is all for you, son.”
Both men glanced to the Persian gulf. She thrashed against their vessel. Swaying their catch left and right with the intention of taking her creatures back.
“Where is this coming from?” A genuine question from his younger self. Unable to read between the lines.
“Can’t a man just speak from the heart?”
The melancholy smile didn’t meet the wrinkles of time decorating his eyes, but they shared a laugh anyway. Suguru turned away but was promptly drawn back.
“My beautiful boy.”
The fisherman cradled his son’s face. Swimming in the eyes that Suguru once hated. The eyes that convinced his birth mother to abandon him.
“Make it to shore, son.” Suguru rested his head against his father’s neck. Taking a slow, sweet drag of his scent.
Oak.
He always smelled like oak. It was one of Suguru’s favorite things about him.
“If Poseidon calls—“
“I’ll tell him to fuck off.” Mischievous grin plastered on Suguru’s face. His father planted a kiss on his cheek, pushing him towards the end of the boat. As he always did.
Then the Gulf wrapped him in her hostile embrace.
She was irate.
Vicious tidal waves. Rapidly shifting currents. Even her creatures knew to settle below their usual depth. Suguru cursed the fact that he was born with useless, human lungs. Unable to withstand the pressure of the Midnight Zone.
Within minutes his long, lean frame was riding her whims without a shred of control. Tossed around like a rag doll. At her complete mercy — or lack thereof.
This was the first time he struggled to tame his element. A muffled groan bubbled around him. Serrated edges of long coral stalks dug into his back. Stark white foam whirled around him.
Aerated waters.
Suguru could barely maneuver against the waves pummeling his core. Searing heat traveling up his spine. His lungs demanded oxygen.
The boat.
The boat would never make it to shore.
Desperate, furious strokes of his arms meant nothing against her unrelenting grasp. Effectively pinning Suguru to his underwater cross.
A piece of chewed plank wood whizzed by his face.
Followed by another.
Then another.
And Suguru watched his nightmare materialize before his eyes. Mustering his last oxygen reserve, he bellowed against his closed lips.
As if she hadn’t already ignored the cries of his fellow fisherman.
Even still, he screamed so loud his ribcage should have vaporized. But ushering him to a watery grave at that time would have been too merciful.
Suguru blinks out of the harrowing memory. The steeping tea takes at least two layers of epithelium off his esophagus.
Fucking, hell.
He can’t seem to escape pain today.
The swim was excruciating.
Mass was dreadful.
Watching that boy’s hand lay on your lap was grating.
Suguru’s mind drifts back to you. Your thought washes over him like baptizing waters purifying that which is impure.
The gleam in your eyes when you asked about his morning plunge. Barely a week and your pulse on him is already this precise.
Do not covet, Suguru.
He scoffs to himself. Shaking free of your tempting spiral.
This ‘straight and narrow’ path is proving to be more challenging than he let on.
“Would you be proud, Father?”
A whisper of accusation at the end of his inquiry. Suguru would give his arms, his eyes…his life to hear his father’s voice on the other end of his questions, once again.
“Did He tell you?”
Roaring silence. Of course. He knows that. He expects it.
But it angers him all the same.
“Did He come to you in a dream??” Suguru echos louder. More frantic. Punched out in a way he can barely recognize.
“Was the reaper at His left, my heart on the right?!” A weak sob slips through the crack in his baritone.
Yet another pain. But this one is tart and blurring his vision.
“Did you KNOW? D—did you know that day was your last?!” He hisses through a salty stream. Storming out to the garden to escape the walls collapsing in on him.
Suguru’s eyes laser to the remaining thorny vines along his bed of hydrangeas. Without a second thought he wraps them around his bare arms. Staining the plant and his freshly bathed skin with crystalline tears. Once its thorns sufficiently bury into his skin he rips it away from the soil with all his might.
“Bastard. I’m your SON.”
Warm metallic drips down the hills and ridges of his arms. Collecting in the flower bed.
Is he cursing his earthly father?
His Heavenly One?
Or the Deity that brought this grief on him in the first place?
It hurts.
An unforgiving pain.
Much like the thorns in those rapids. Much like the inconceivable burn from his lungs begging for expanse. The time limit, even for him, ran lethally low.
Well exceeding his father’s time limit.
Poseidon stole from him that day.
A callous trade for Suguru’s continued existence.
“Why didn’t you…I—I should’ve been there.”
Guilt eviscerates Suguru’s remaining resolve. Tilting his head up, he lets the salty crystals rain down his cheeks freely.
The full moon cradles his face with the same warmth, the same adoration his father’s hands used to.
Suguru accepts its celestial kisses for a moment before burying his face into his bloodied palms. His damp locks curtain his flushed face. Protecting the world from his unruly sobs.
“I’m here.” Barely audible words escape through desperate grabs for air.
“I made it to shore, Dad.”
E/N: Oh hello, don’t mind me just sobbing. Also, guest appearance by our glorious Blue Eyed Babygirl King™️ If you need me, I will be in witness protection before Gege finds this since it’s a crime to be a S*toru lover.
taglist: @blkkizzat @rotteneyess
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Fantasy books by female authors that deserve more praise and recognition and are so SO MUCH better than whatever SJM writes.
The Sun Sword series | Michelle West
A hundred thousand kingdoms | NK Jemisin
The killing Moon | NK Jemisin
An ember in the Ashes | Sabaa Tahir
Shatter Me | Taherah Mafi
Furyborn | Claire Legrand
The bone season | Samantha Shannon
Darker shade of Magic | VE Schwab
The invisible life of Addie LaRue | VE Schwab
Realm of the Elderlings | Robin Hobbs
Sands of Arawiya | Hafsah Faizal
The Daevabad Trilogy | SA Chakraborty
Year of the Reaper | Makiia Lucier
The bear and the Nightingale | Katherine Arden
The Night Circus | Erin Morgenstern
Descendent of the Crane | Joan He
The bridge Kingdom | Danielle Jensen
Dark Shores | Danielle Jensen
Falling Kingdoms | Morgan Rhodes
Range of Ghosts | Elizabeth Bear
Children of blood and Bone | Tomi Adeyemi
The Wrath and the Dawn | Renee Ahdieh
Lumatere Chronicles | Melina Marchetta
The Alchemists of Loom | Elise Kova
#I have an itch when it come to SJM I have 4 of her books and I don’t understand why people think she’s the greatest author since Jane Austen#anyway please read these incredible books#I’ve read these so if you wanna add please do so#books#book recs 2023#books recs#books and reading
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codename: nightingale - performance
Reference: Young Justice Season 1 Episode 24
WC: 9.1k
synopsis: the team tests their acrobatic abilities and robin takes a trip down memory lane. aka the one where ng is a supportive girlfriend. ft. couply vibes from our favorite non-couple.
main masterlist
codename: nightingale series masterlist
a/n: I know I'm consistently inconsistent, but. it means a lot to hear from each of you and to see your comments and responses to what I write. it's hard to believe that there are only two updates left in the season, but it's been a long time coming. I do plan to continue with this series, but the breaks will probably be similar to the ones many of you have already been experiencing. thank you again for all your dedication!
BRUGES December 22nd, 20:08 CET
You weren’t really sure how to feel as you stood before the crowd. Standing on the ground beside Conner, you were dressed in a white and red leotard, identical to the ones the rest of your team was wearing. Each of you was wearing a similar mask that covered the top half of your face, and while you pulled your daggers out, your eyes connected with Conner’s, he seemed to recognize the slight unease in your expression. Before he could comment on it, the Ring Master was walking into the spotlight, and the crowd seemed to get louder as he started the night.
“Damen und Herren, Mesdames et Messieurs, Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to the Haly International Traveling Circus! Where the world in the center ring is your oyster, and these are our latest pearls! The Daring Dangers!” he announced, and you straightened out, blades twirling in your hands.
“Dan Danger!” The spotlight focused on Dick as he swung from a trapeze high above everyone’s heads. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched; part of you absolutely amazed at how he moved in the air, and part of you trembling with fear as your brain flashed to the memory he had shown you at the start of November.
You held your breath as he launched from his trapeze and somersaulted in the air opposite M’gann, “Dawn Danger!” Haly announced, and the light focused on her for a second.
“Diane Danger!” The light moved to Artemis as she notched three arrows and then to Roy as he did the same, “Dane Danger!”
You nodded at Conner as you took your starting position, knowing your alias was coming soon. “Dean Danger!” Haly called, and a light shone on Conner, who was juggling barrels. You watched the moves, and as soon as he tossed two barrels, you ran and pushed off his crouched back. Vaguely you registered Haly’s “and Dana Danger!” announcement as the light shone on you.
You sent two blades flying clear across the ring, through a few hoops where they hit their bullseyes, triggering confetti cannons that shot up in time with Artemis and Roy’s release of sparkler arrows and Dick and M’gann’s well-timed tumbles through the hollow barrels that Conner had tossed. You barely blinked as you tucked down into a roll and came back down, using the momentum to spring up into a handspring with the agility of a trained acrobat.
“You'll never see another trapeze act like this, folks! And all of it, without a net!” you had straightened out and returned to the podium beside Conner, new blades in hand, just in time to hear Haly’s statement. You winced at the thought before your eyes caught on the pained sound that Dick made.
“Robin!” M’gann’s shout had your gaze shooting up immediately. And your heart leaped up as you watched Robin fall, the imaging too real for a memory, paired with shrieks from the crowd.
“Don’t blow our cover!” Robin instructed as he fell, and your eye twitched.
“Dean,” you hissed, at Conner, eyes dipping to the barrel in his hand, and he nodded, understanding your meaning.
“But saving your life's okay?” Conner asked, sarcasm dripping from every word as he launched the barrel up in the air with enough force to meet Dick in the air and then push him back up to where M’gann was coming back around for another pass from the trapeze.
“What did I just say?” Robin chastised as M’gann caught him.
“The crowd couldn't see me using telekinesis from below,” she countered, dropping him back at the platform of the trapeze frame. “Besides, I've been using it all night. I'm not exactly the acrobat you are,” M’gann adds as she lands beside him, the two of them wearing show smiles and waving out to the crowd.
“Yeah, neither am I right now. I think I've caught that 24 hour bug that's been going around the circus,” Dick admits, and you make a clicking noise in contempt that only Conner could hear.
“But the show must go on,” you note with an obviously upset tone.
“Yes,” is all Dick answered.
Your eye twitches once more as you start hitting targets that Conner was lobbying up in the air, most containing some confetti or glitter that would explode mid-air. You have a brief flash-back of the mission briefing, the one you hadn’t technically been invited to but had stumbled onto, to the great annoyance of Dick.
[FLASHBACK- MOUNT JUSTICE]
“Advanced weapons tech have been stolen at manufacturing plants throughout Europe. And each theft coincides with tour stops made by the Haly Circus. Batman is sending us undercover to catch the thieves,” Robin had led the briefing, and no one else had commented on it.
But you had sent him a look that made it apparent that you didn’t believe that Batman had authorized anything, but you also trusted Robin too much to make that a public fact.
“This clown car have room for one more?” Roy asked with a faux cheerful expression.
Your brows dipped as you looked at him. You weren’t completely sure where you stood at the moment. Everything he did to antagonize Artemis earlier this month still didn’t sit well with you. But this was Roy, who was practically your brother; after all the years he’s supported you and everything you’d been through together, there was no simple answer.
“Uh..” Dick shot a look at you, noting your stormy expression, “We've got this covered,” he offers hesitantly.
Your forehead creases as Roy leans closer to Robin, talking in a hushed tone you can’t hear. Whatever he says has the slightest effect in twitching Robin’s lips down. Not enough to be noticeable unless you’d been paying rapt attention to the interaction.
Haly’s announcement pulls you from the memory, and you realize you’d subconsciously been doing your routine and were now standing on one foot in Conner’s hand, hitting a final confetti target before being tossed up in the air for a summersault and then caught by Conner once more. “Put your hands together for The Daring Dangers!”
“Didn't think you’d make it through!” M’gann adds as you all regrouped together on the center podium, waving out to the crowd with show smiles.
“Neither did I. Help me backstage,” Dick admits, your eyes flashing something dangerous as you and M’gann loop an arm around Dick on either side.
Subtly you support his weight, Conner, Roy, and Artemis flanked you as the team made their way backstage. Your eyes caught on Ray, the stage hand, as he talked with the next act as you passed by.
“Ray, have you seen my other torch?”
“Here, you dropped it outside the train.”
“Thanks, you're a lifesaver!”
“Break a leg!”
Haly’s introduction timed up perfectly, “Bear witness, ladies, and gentlemen, to the Dragon's Breath!'' and a second later, the Ring Master himself is walking back to the backstage area.
The twins immediately swarmed, “Haly, what's the deal? Giving the top slot to those Danger kids?”
The other pipes in, “That's our slot!”
“Was your slot until you missed that performance in Paris,” Haly scoffs, looking at the twins and then glancing at us.
“Carlo was sick! He's better now,” one twin argues
“Plus, those Dangers are a sham! They say they're brothers and sisters. They don't even look alike!” Carlo butts in, and you can’t help the quirk to your lip because he’s not wrong. A few of you could probably pass for siblings if the masks stayed on, but not all of us.
Haly simply waved a hand at them, “Ah, you just don't like the competition!” he huffed, shooing the twins away. When he turned around again, he noticed the man in the suit standing just a few feet away. “Ah, for crying out loud, not you again! We're in the middle of a show!”
The man in the suit offered an unimpressed expression, "Then we'll talk after. But we will talk. Another city last week, another tech firm robbed. Another stop on your tour. If I prove you're responsible, I will shut you down.”
Haly frowned at the man, “I've got three minutes to gather props and get back to the center ring," and promptly turned to grab what he needed.
The suit noticed us when Haly walked off and approached, “Faraday, Interpol." He introduced himself, and you made eye contact with Robin. He hadn't mentioned Interpol during the briefing. "New act?” The agent asked.
“Yeah, just joined the tour," you affirmed, plastering on the same camera smile you used at all the events Oliver would drag you to.
“Probably clears you. But don't get too comfortable. Haly's going down for this," Faraday warns before stalking off.
You were crouched on a roof with Robin and Miss M as you all observed the prospective target when Superboy spoke up, “If Interpol's already on this, why are we bothering?”
“Because Batman said so," Dick deflected, “Why? You had something better to do?”
You turned back to look at Dick and quirked your brow, you were well aware of the significance this circus held for him, but no one else on this mission was. To them, his attitude was most likely abrasive.
“How do we know the thieves will hit here?” Artemis asked from her perch with Roy; you let your eyes drift toward them and were happy to see they were both still in one piece.
“There are more obvious targets,” Roy supplied, begrudgingly seeming in agreement with Artemis.
“And Faraday will have them covered!” Robin shot back defensively. “But I analyzed the tech already stolen, and the patterns suggest this is the place.”
M’gann interrupted with a soft voice, “How are you feeling?”
Her question had you turning back to Robin, features softening. You could see the strain he was putting himself through.
“Lousy, actually, but I'll manage,” he offers, and a frown pulls at your lips.
You were ready to butt in and tell him maybe he should stay back, but before you could, Conner cut in, “Contact! North-East quadrant.” You all watched as a hooded figure approached the gate and managed to flip their way over it. Their acrobatic skill was apparent. “Looks like we know why Carlo missed their performance,” Conner offered.
“Could be Carlo, could be his brother,” Robin reminded everyone. “Keep an open mind, and move in!”
You repelled down, Robin doing the same by your side, though you noticed as he landed a bit harsher than normal, before turning and trying to find your mystery acrobat again.
“Did you see where he went?” Robin asked as we regrouped, and everyone focused on finding any sign of your culprit.
Conner landed beside you, and a minute passed before he answered, “The warehouse.”
You all managed to slip into the warehouse undetected and took up positions surrounding the hooded figure from the railing above.
Robin laughed, drawing his attention, and that’s when you realized under the hood that he was also wearing a mask. “Caught red-handed! Red faced too, I'll bet.”
Artemis glared at him, “Acrobatics won't get you out of this.”
You saw the baton before he had it all the way up, and your eyes went wide, “Look out!”
No one else had a chance to say anything before your offender utilized a mock of devil's breath (fire) as a distraction. You all split up to avoid being burned, tumbling away from the heat.
“Somebody do something!” You huff, pushing yourself up and looking down at your arm, you can feel a burn there, and you bit down on your cheek to keep from letting out a pained cry.
“Those crates are full of live ammo! Move!” Roy shouted, and your eyes went wide. Roy jumped down toward you and helped you up, pulling you to your feet before tugging you after him.
You all found a somewhat secure spot and pulled down the metal supports around you, blocking you from most of the blast as the explosion shook the building and shattered the glass windows.
You waited an additional minute for aftershocks before Superboy kicked down the metal around you, “That guy is dead meat!”
“Superboy, no!” Robin shouted, stopping Conner before he could follow after our mystery firebug.
“You need to get her out,” you tell him as you gesture back to M’gann, wincing when your suit pulls against your burn.
“He's getting away!” Conner argued, and you couldn’t hide your surprise.
You could feel the rage pouring off of him. You hadn’t felt something this intense from Conner in a while. It was potent but awkward. You were all upset, angry, and annoyed, but no one to his extent, even with them being as close as they were.
You frowned at him, “And that matters more than Miss M? The fire's killing her!” You remind him, and suddenly the rage evaporated; his fluctuating emotions became increasingly more baffling with each mission.
“Right right!” He corrects, taking M’gann into his arms and running out from the smoke.
With the pressing concern of M’gann’s health resolved, Robin turns to the rest of you. “Artemis, NG, Arrow! Find the thief!” he shouts, but you all see as he collapses.
“Fuck,” you mutter, rushing up to him.
“Because he matters more than you?” Artemis asks, repeating your words from seconds earlier.
“You're still off your gigs, pal. We're getting you out too,” Roy determined as he and Artemis each looped an arm around him. “Birdy, you alright?”
“Fine! I’m right behind you!” You affirm, wincing once again as you grab your grapple, every movement of your arm paining you.
By the time you returned to the train, your arm was throbbing. You had applied burn paste on the bioship in the small bathroom while everyone else decompressed and bandaged it up, deciding to deal with it fully once back on the train, hoping to avoid any questions about it. Everyone seemed to be in a mood when you touched down and relegated themselves to quietly fuming while preparing for bed. Between the six of you, there were two compartments, one for the three boys, the other for the three girls. M’gann got ready for bed first, and Artemis approached you while she was in the shower. You were seated on the floor beside your bed. Despite having changed to get in unnoticed by anyone who happened to be wandering about, you still smelt like smoke and had no desire to get that on your bed. Artemis gently sat down beside you, hands hesitating before gently grabbing at your arm. You let out a hiss at the contact despite how light her touch had been.
“I saw it, before we carried Rob out, but it was hard to see, and there was fire everywhere, so I thought maybe it wasn’t as bad as I had thought, until you walked out of the change room with a bandage on…” she trailed.
“It’s fine,” you tried to shrug off.
“I know I messed up last time, but I thought about what you said. I want to be on this team, NG, I want-“ she cuts herself off, dropping your gaze. “I want them to be able to put their trust in me,” she says firmly.
You stare at her for a second, knowing she’s trying to be exceptionally open with you right now. Allowing you to read every emotion she’s got while holding your arm and meeting your masked eyes. Tiredly you pull the mask from your eyes, and hers widen.
“I’m not giving you my ID, not yet. I-” you take a deep breath cutting yourself off. “it’s a lot for me. But I could use some help with this burn, if you’re offering,” you respond.
“Yeah, let me grab the med kit,” she nods, stretching out to grab a box from under her bed.
When M’gann came out of her shower, Artemis had cleaned your burn and debrided what she could. You had taken a mild painkiller and used a localized anesthetic on the area to keep the pain at bay. M’gann’s eyebrows raised at your unmasked face but simply offered you a warm smile once you replicated though much more muted.
“That looks pretty rough, I didn’t realize you got burned,” M’gann notes, her tone full of concern.
���It’s alright. You were looking pretty rough yourself,” you muse tiredly.
“You feel any better?” Artemis asks, looking back at the Martian.
“Lots, but I’m still pretty drained,” she admits, walking over to sit beside the two of you on the floor. “Why don’t you wash up, Artemis? I can take over,” she offers.
“You sure?” Artemis asks hesitantly.
“Go,” you affirm. “It’s not like I can shower until this is properly bandaged up anyways,” you shrug,
“Alright,” she nods, standing up and grabbing her stuff before disappearing behind the doors and down the walkway to the shower.
“Big step,” M’gann notes as she picks up where Artemis left off, though her eyes glance up to make uninhibited eye contact with you.
“Maybe I’m just high on the pain killers,” you lament.
M’gann giggles, “No, but whatever the reason, I’m glad. I know you know I caught glimpses back in Biyaliya, but I’ve done my best to respect your privacy and the things I learned during that mission,” M’gann admits.
“Yeah, we’ve all come a long way since Biyaliya, haven’t we?” you muse.
“Very,” she affirms. “How goes the empath development? My uncle mentioned he and Canary have been corresponding regarding your training,” she inquires.
“Did he tell you he thinks I may be able to manifest as a telepath? If my empathic abilities continue to develop the way they have been, I mean,” you tell her lazily, the pain killer defiantly helping in your unusual calmness.
“No, he hadn’t,” she admits. “How do you feel about that?”
“Honestly? I’m not sure yet, I just started understanding my empathic abilities, grasping how to read others, how to interpret the feelings, and it’s still so easy to get overwhelmed, when everyone else’s feeling are just too loud, and I can’t manage it all flooding at me… but Canary said I’ve always been an empathetic person, that I find it in myself to forgive and understand quicker than most, we just never realized it had to do with my latent abilities more than my experiences.”
“It’s both,” M’gann assured you. “You might be an empath, NG, but that just means you can read other people’s emotions, empathizing with them has more to do with your character than it does with your powers. It’s both, not one or the other, you’re more than your powers, don’t let their inherently emotional core make you think any different,” she says seriously, picking up the tub of burn cream.
“Thanks,” you manage to croak out, staring at M’gann. You hadn’t realized just how much of a toll the overpowering nature of your powers had been taking lately.
“Anytime, Birdy,” she smiles warmly once more before wrapping your arm up. She added an additional layer of waterproof bandaging to help protect your arm while you showered. “We can check it in the morning, but the bandage should you last you through the day, and we can clean it again tomorrow night,” she adds as she finishes.
Artemis returned a moment later and smiled at your now cleaned and bandaged arm, “You’re up, Birdy,” she mused, tossing her towel over one of the hooks in the compartment.
You smiled at the two girls, grabbing your towel and shower things before exiting the compartment yourself.
BRUGES December 23rd, 08:13 CET
When you got up the next morning, M’gann and Artemis unwound your bandage, inspected it, and added more of the burn cream before rewrapping it. The three of you exited the compartment and met with the boys for breakfast. You had just finished when you spotted the return of Interpol Agent Faraday.
“Another weapons plant is hit, and once again, the circus is in town. I don't believe in coincidences,” Faraday warned.
“I don't care what you believe! My people are not responsible! I did a bed check last night. Every single member of my troupe was asleep in their bunks!” Haly defended, and your brow quirked as you looked over to your team. Everyone was dressed in their performance outfits, but given that your arms were usually on display with the leotard, you had opted to slide a compression long sleeve on underneath, perfectly reasonable given the snowy weather outside, the sleeves covering your bandaged arm perfectly.
“Well, we sure weren’t,” M’gann notes in response to Haly’s defense.
“And if he's lying about us…” Artemis trailed off as everyone settled with the idea. Your gaze flickered to Dick, caught as his eyes narrowed on Haly and then dropped to the floor.
“Let’s go, I think it’s time to debrief,” you decide, urging your teammates to move and catching Dick’s gaze once more before you all moved back into the boys’ compartment on the train, closing the door behind you.
Everyone took up varying spots in the compartment, Artemis and Dick seated on one side, M’gann and you seated on the other, while Roy and Conner stood on each end.
“S, two thieves, right? The fire breather and one of the acrobats,” Artemis offered, starting the debrief.
“Dressed in identical clothes,” M’gann offered.
“Maybe not just two,” Dick decided, pulling something up on his holo-screen. “Here's the Madrid security footage.” you all watched silently as a hooded figure bent the bars. “And now, Paris,” confusion spread as you watched another figure walk on some cables, just like a tightrope.
“So the strong man and the clown too,” Roy supplied. “If the entire circus is involved, Haly himself may be the mastermind,” he voiced, and you cringed internally, fighting to keep your face straight, knowing exactly where this was headed next.
“You don't know that!” Dick argued, standing up to get in Roy’s space.
“It would explain his lies,” M’gann offered, though her tone was soft, as she tried to de-escalate the tension between Dick and Roy.
“I told you to keep an open mind!” Dick huffed before storming out. Your lips pursed, you wanted to run after him, but you also wanted to ensure that everyone was at least somewhat on the same page.
“Hello, Megan! I'll read Haly's mind!” M’gann offered, but before anyone else could comment on it, Roy took a step forward with crossed arms.
“I’m not sure we can trust you to do that without tipping him off,” Roy decided, and your eye twitched; you were getting really sick of questioning everyone’s trust.
“Or maybe you don't trust her, period!” Conner roared, stepping forward, voicing your thoughts. “I heard you talking to Robin back at the Cave. I know you're only here to spy on the three of us!”
“There's a mole on this Team,” Roy said so seriously you could see his sureness, but it did little to change your opinion. “And there’s good reasons to suspect all three of you. Both Artemis and Miss Martian have already been caught in lies,” both of their heads dipped a bit, “And you could be programmed by Cadmus without even knowing.”
“Or maybe I take your head off without even trying!” you’re once again struck by Conner’s aggressiveness. You’d thought he’d sorted through most of it with Canary. He’d been doing better, but suddenly it seemed like it was all coming back, and you couldn’t place why.
“Okay, let's all take a time out,” M’gann decided, placing a gentle hand on Conner’s shoulder and tugging him back a bit. “Before we do something we'll regret.”
“Speak for yourself,” he grumbled, allowing her to lead him out of the compartment to cool off.
Artemis waited until the compartment door shut again, “None of us are perfect. But each of us would give our lives for this Team. So try and keep an open mind,” Artemis reminds him, and it’s reassuring to hear your words echoed by another, but also to see the calm, collectedness she managed to keep about her this time. You were proud of her and offered her a smile of your own as she left too.
“She’s not wrong, and it’s exactly what I’ve been saying for months, Roy,” you huff.
“Just because you’ve gone all kumbaya on me-“
“Don’t,” you snap. “Just don’t. I don’t know why my empath abilities seem to be such a focus for you lately, but it doesn’t make me any different than I have ever been. And this.. This being on edge, being angry, whatever it is, you need to knock it off because I can only take so much.”
“Birdy…” He says it softly, and you frown.
“I’m gonna go find Rob,” you decide, pulling a jacket from Robin's bag. “Figure your shit out, Roy.”
You make a quick stop to grab one for yourself before running out after Dick. You find him while he’s stopped in front of an old poster on a tent. When you get closer, you know why. You stare at it a second longer, The Flying Graysons, and you take a deep breath before walking up next to him.
He’s quiet as you saddle up beside him, and your fingers fidget for a second, trying to think of what to say. “They don’t know, and so they don’t understand, they can’t understand why this is so important to you, or why you’re being evasive and defensive… But I do. I know, I understand, and I’m with you all the way. If you truly think that Haly’s not involved, then he’s not, but I’m begging you Dick, please don’t block me out,” you say softly, voice barely louder than a whisper, as you drape his jacket over his shoulders and tentatively grab his hand.
He doesn’t answer, but his fingers tighten around yours, and you release the breath you’d been holding. Only a few moments later, his com rings, a quick glance lets you know it’s Wally, and Dick answers, linking you in while you both stand out in the snow.
“Uh yeah?” he answers lamely, gaining an eye roll from you, though you can hear how bothered he still is in his voice.
“Dude, where are you?” Wally asks; there’s a slight note of concern in his tone.
“Confidential mission,” Dick covers, shooting you a pleading look, “from Batman,” he adds, and your eyebrows raise.
“Wow!” Wally exclaims. “You know what I'm doing? Making a baloney sandwich, kinda like you just did,” he laments, and you can’t help but snort. “Hey there, Pretty Bird, I was hoping you’d be around,” Wally greets, and you smile playfully at your best friend’s tone.
“Hey, Wall,” you muse with a light smile as you and Dick turn to start walking, your fingers still laced together with his.
“Anyways, I talked to Tornado. You guys are NOT on a mission. Not an official one, anyway,” Wally continues, and you make eye contact with Dick.
“A friend, Jack Haly,” Dick sighs.
“The circus guy? From your old Flying Graysons days?” Wally asks, tone suddenly soft.
“Yeah. He's implicated in this global crime spree. Someone in the show's dirty, but I need to prove old Jack's clean or he might lose the circus,” Dick admits, and you squeeze his hand.
“Then why not bring me along?” Wally asks. “I know your back story, I know what that circus means to you. It's where you grew up, it's where you lost your-“
“I left you behind because you know my back story,” Dick says quickly, effectively cutting Wally off, and he squeezes your fingers back again. “I didn't want my best pal questioning my objectivity.”
“Dude, that's what a best pal's for. Plus, Birdy got to go!” Wally shoots back, though you know Dick understands the immense support and emotion behind Wally’s words.
Dick’s lip twitches up slightly as he looks at you, “Birdy didn’t give me an option,” he huffs.
You smile back at him, “I really didn’t,” you affirm into the coms, and it’s true. Dick had tried to convince you that you weren’t needed on this mission, but you didn’t relent until he gave in.
BRUGES December 23rd, 22:34 CET
“And that's our show! Farewell, good people of Bruges!” Haly announced, gaining massive applause in response before exiting the ring and joining everyone else in the backstage tent. “Pack it u! The train leaves for Geneva in two hours!” he reminds everyone as we all load our gear.
It’s nearing that two hour mark when everyone’s out by the train. You’d been helping Conner with the boxes that housed all our gear, both for the show and for our suits, when you heard Ray come up to M’gann.
“Need a hand?” he asks, and you watch him reach out to grab the box in M’gann’s grip, tensing slightly because you know the box she’s got right now has Artemis’ suit inside.
“I-I'm good, thanks,” she deflects gently, plastering on a small smile.
“Maybe one of the others could use some help?” you offer instead, with a fake smile of your own. “A lot of them seem to have that flu,” you note, seemingly offhandedly.
Ray nods, “Yeah, it's going around,” he affirms before offering one last smile and walking to the aforementioned performers sitting, trying to catch their breath.
All aboard, everyone, now!” Haly’s shout comes minutes later, and you frown as you make eye contact with Roy.
“Someone's in a hurry,” Roy notes, tone laced with suspicion, and you can’t help but search for Dick in response.
The train had been going, and you were on your way to Geneva. You were all in your compartment looking at M’gann, who wasn’t feeling well.
“You look better,” Artemis notes as she looks at Dick, “you too,” as she nods down to your arm, which still hurts, but not as bad.
“It’s getting there,” you nod.
“I feel better,” he nods, “I'm sorry, M-Dawn,” he frowns, turning to M’gann where she was lying in her cot. “I hope you didn't catch it from me.”
“I feel so silly. Who knew a Martian could be vulnerable to a human virus?” she hums, clearly tired.
“H. G. Wells?” you offer with a slight smirk, eyes twinkling when you catch Dick’s lip twitching up.
“Look, when did you first feel sick?” He asks, cutting you off before you can try for another joke.
“Just after boarding the train,” she admits, and you can remember how she had been loading up gear before, seeming fine, “it came on suddenly.”
Dick frowns, “Same with me, the other night. I remember Ray rubbed my head for good luck right before we went on,” he explains.
“Ray? That roustabout?” Conner interrupts, “He touched her before we boarded. That guy must be a walking Petri dish,” he scoffs, shaking his head.
You’re struck with a thought, the seed of one which you didn’t like. As if sensing your sudden idea, Dick’s blue eyes focus on you. You freeze for a moment. You’re used to the whiteouts of his domino, so being able to see his eyes like this makes you pause just for a moment because you realize this is the look he must always give you on missions, the one where you both just seem to know the answers together, without ever saying a word.
“Yeah, yeah, maybe,” he mutters, nodding to the door.
You quickly turn, and he follows you out of the train compartment. You look left as he looks right, and then he’s pulling your wrist, heading to the right, and you follow after him at the sight of a white button-up.
“Dana, Dan! You look refreshed!” Haly cheers, staring at you and then at Dick.
Dick’s still holding your wrist, and you can feel the tension coming from him. The nostalgia and longing that he automatically associates with Jack Haly and his past, and you have to bite back the innate need to comfort him because you would’ve hated it if someone tried to pity you, so instead, you shift your hand subtly from where it’s hidden behind his body and in front of yours, so that you can hold his hand, lacing your fingers together and offering a small squeeze.
“Thanks. Uh… Jack, how long has Ray worked for you?” he asks, squeezing your hand back once more.
“A bit about the start of the European tour,” Haly says after a moment of silence. “Poor lad's down with the same flu as the rest of them,” he adds, and you feel the team's presence appear behind you.
“We'll check on him, it’s the least we can do,” Artemis offers with a false tone of empathy.
“If you insist,” Haly smiles, and the team starts making their way toward the back of the train.
You smile at Haly as he continues on with what he was doing before, while M’gann forces herself up to join you.
“You should stay in bed,” Dick tells her.
She offers a coy smile, “As a friend of mine once said, I'll manage,” she teases, and you nod at both of them before following after the other three.
You manage to make it all the way to the back of the train, and when you get there, you’re honestly not that surprised to find the compartment empty.
“I guess he wasn't that sick,” you drawl, sarcasm laced into your voice.
“Does this circus have an elephant I don't know about?” Roy asks with a furrowed brow.
“Not on foreign tours,” Dick answers, the words tumbling out quicker than he probably should’ve let them.
Roy spares you another glance before opening the box, “empty,” he notes, and you lean over his shoulder to take a look.
He’s about to shut the box when you notice something off, “no, wait!” and he freezes as your hand reaches out and brushes up against the side of the box. “Ash,” you note, throat a bit dry as it begins to fit into place.
“From the warehouse fire in Bruges,” Dick notes, and he seems to come to a similar conclusion.
“Uh… guys?” Artemis calls, “I found Ray,” she says, holding up a face mask of who you all had assumed to be the Circus’ roustabout.
“Split up!” you decide, voice urgent. “Search the whole train!” you add, and everyone files out, heading to different carts.
You and Dick split off toward the front compartments, and he’s a few feet ahead of you before he stops and looks back at you with wide eyes. The space is silent except for the sounds of the train moving and that’s when you hear it, the muffled shouts coming from one of the compartments.
“Top?” you offer, trying to trace the sound.
“No. Haly’s office,” Dick answers with a grimace before kicking the door open.
Your lips part when you spot Haly, stripped down to his undershirt and pants tied up on the floor in his office.
“Shit,” you mumble.
“Who did this to you?” Dick asks, tone urgent as he pulls Haly’s gag down. Though you bite back a sarcastic, who do you think dickie?
“Ray,” Haly gasps, “Ray, the roustabout! Right after the train left Bruges!” he tells you, and Dick freezes to look back at you. You offer him a roll of your eyes and your best duh expression. “Hey, I'm not Houdini here!” Haly shouts, gaining Dick’s attention once more, and you grab one of your ring daggers, tossing it, hilt first, to Dick to cut through the ropes.
“Tell Dawn!” He shouts to you, and you step out into the hallway, clearing Haly’s sight before taking off.
“Dawn, come in!” you call out over the comms.
“Uh… Dana?” she answers.
“Dan tried to reach you, the other way,” you hint.
“I think the flu's knocked out my other way,” she admits and you stop running just in time for Dick to catch up to you.
“That clinches it,” he decides, and you nod.
Clicking your comm again, you call, “Dane, Dean, Diane, come in!” you call and hear the beep from Dick’s comm as it’s linked to the call. “We're chasing someone who's stolen Dawn’s act. Her whole shtick, if you catch my drift,” you hint.
“I got him! But he's on to me,” Conner calls through, “Exiting the dining car now,” he adds, and you both take off towards the cart. “He's gone top side!” Conner corrects, and you skid to a stop, tossing a door open and climbing up to the top of the train, Dick right behind you.
“That won't work on me, clown!” Conner shouts.
“That's no clown,” you argue, theory confirmed.
“He's the Parasite! The guy who once stole Superman's powers,” Dick supplies, as you both stop across from Conner.
“As if you, kids, are who you claim to be!” Parasite argues, “please,” he scoffs, willing his disguise to melt away, leaving us staring at the alien.
“Stay out of his reach!” you order, “there's no flu going around, the weakness comes when he makes physical contact and feeds on the powers and abilities of others,” you explain, pulling out a few more daggers.
“I happen to be a bit of a glutton today. Chowed down on the skills of nearly every loser in this troupe. But, oh, my! But the pièce de résistance was Dawn Danger,” he drawled, and you saw as the rest of the team started appearing on the train roof as well. “Or whatever her real name is. Thought I'd pouch on her trapeze skills imagine my surprise when she tasted like Martian Manhunter, instead,” he grins. “She made a lovely appetizer. But guess who I want for my entrée,” he teases, and your eyes blow wide.
“SB!” you shout, trying to warn him, but it’s too late.
Using M’ganns telekinesis, Parasite pulls Conner to himself, hand wrapping around his neck while he drains him. “M-hmm, now that's the full body Kryptonian flavor I love!” Parasite taunts.
“Everyone, stay whelmed!” Robin orders, “Subdue, but keep your distance!”
Both Roy and Artemis pull out their bows, but before they can get a shot off, Parasite uses heat vision to burn them to ash in their hands, and your lips part in surprise.
“You know, I almost never say this, but I'm sated,” Parasite decides, dropping Conner's body, which falls at his feet. You catch as Parasite shifts his weight and adjust accordingly, to leap up as he takes off, “Hate to eat and run!” he calls back, but you timed it right, managing to catch onto the box he’s touting with him, but miss it as he hits Rob, nearly knocking him off the train.
You get a sound footing and climb up the box until you can launch yourself at him. There’s a distant shout of “NG!” but you’re unable to progress any further before Parasite stops you. You managed to get a hold of him in time to find something of interest, but before you could continue, he’s turning to face you.
“Sorry, no hitchhikers,” he huffs, hitting you in the chest with his Kryptonian strength and knocking you back down to the train.
You land harshly on your back, groaning when your head hits the train’s top before your body bounces off, and suddenly you’re falling. There’s a split second of panic when your hand ghosts your hip, the action trained into you by Dinah and Ollie, but there’s no grapple. There’s no pressure from your belt, no sting of a bow slung over your shoulder. For a moment you’re just falling. You think of Dinah and Ollie and how crushed they’d be, of Roy and how angry he already is, and how much worse it’s bound to get if you were to die in front of him.
Vaguely you hear shouts of “NG!” and “Birdy!” but it’s not until a hand wraps around your wrist that everything comes back to sharp focus, the sound of the train, the cold of the air, and as your eyes snap back open you’re staring straight into blue. Dick’s got a stern look on his face as he grips your wrist tight. straining as he tries to pull you up, but you know it must be taking all of his energy because there’s no leverage for either of you to grip onto. A second passes as you hang there, eyes sweeping out to the mountainside under you, “Birdy,” he grunts. You reach up and tuck a thumb drive into Robin’s wrist.
Your eyes meet his again, his eyes are wide, but you offer a wry smile. Before you can say anything, Roy is sliding down next to Dick, throwing a hand out to help grab onto you, grip bruisingly tight. Artemis and M’gann quickly drop down and help the boys pull you up, tugging until you’re back on the train with everyone else.
“Birdy? Birdy, are you okay?” your eyes had locked with Dick’s for a second, but it was Roy’s frantic tone that was addressing you.
“‘M fine,” you say, pushing yourself to a sitting position.
“Conner!” M’gann’s shout has you turning your head to look at what’s happening.
“C’mon, let’s get you up,” Roy’s voice is soft as he offers his hands to help pull you back to your feet, Artemis and Dick standing on either side of you as they maneuver you back toward the other two.
“You alright?” M’gann’s voice is soft as she checks Conner over.
“Fine, fine!” he huffs, the anger and annoyance evident.
“You're drained!” Dick corrects. “Parasite took more power than you even have!” he argues, “Heat vision?”
“I have the genetic potential for it!” Conner reminds him, “Must've been enough for him.”
Dick lets out an irritated groan pushing forward, and you make hesitant eye contact with the two archers on either side of you.
“Go! I'll manage,” Conner says, and the rest of you follow after Dick.
“Are you okay?” Roy’s the one to ask after you’ve climbed back down.
“I’m good,” you dismiss.
“You hit your head pretty hard,” Artemis adds, concern evident. “Plus the arm Rob grabbed you by was the burned one…”
You look down and see specks of blood coming through the bandage and bite back a sigh. You hadn’t even realized that the arm Dick caught you by was your injured one; you probably pulled the skin off the burn, aggravating the injury more.
“It’ll be okay, I’ll re-wrap it before I change,” you swallow, looking at both archers.
“And your head?” Roy’s tone conveys his obvious big brothering. It’d be sweet to know it still exists if you weren’t in the middle of an emotionally charged mission.
“Still smaller and smarter than yours, so I think I’ll manage,” you joke.
He scowls at you and at the slight snort that escapes Artemis, “Not what I meant, and you know it,” he grunts.
“No concusion, but I’ll probably have a nasty bump,” you relent.
“Good, and let’s not tell D and O that you almost died? I don’t think they’d be very happy with me,” he adds.
“My lips are sealed,” you assure him.
Artemis scoffs again, “mine aren’t,” she smirks viciously at the way Roy pales a bit.
You chuckle as you pull her into your compartment, so you both can get changed.
You find yourself seated with the rest of the team shortly after, dressed in your suits, a new wrapping on your arm. Artemis had spare arm braces from her stealth suit, black in color, that she lent to you so you could use them to cover and secure the wrappings, which you did.
“It's not a complete debacle,” Robin announces as we all settle. “Birdy picked Parasite's pocket, and got this flash drive,” he announced, and you feel some eyes slide to you questioningly.
“Did she?” Roy’s tone has an edge, probably because you didn’t tell him
“Looks like Parasite's working for Intergang. Everything he's stolen, they're all pieces of something!” Dick explains as data starts filtering through the holo-screen.
“It looks like they’re putting together a weapon that generates…. Black holes?” you read over his shoulder, eyes blowing wide at the revelation.
“Oh, come on! To build that, you need a particle accelerator!” Roy argues.
“Like the Large Boson Collider in Geneva?” Robin offers, tone flattened, as he glances over at Roy.
“The circus's next stop!” Roy realizes. “But now that Parasite can fly, he's got a big head start on us!” he tacks on, gaze zeroing in on M’gann and Conner.
“Sorry,” her mumbled response comes out.
“Not your fault,” you assure her with a glare at Roy.
“But this thing could wipe out entire cities,” Dick explains. “We need to hurry.”
“You, me, and Birdy need to hurry,” Roy corrects. “Without powers, the others would hold us back.”
Your eye twitches in response, but Artemis quickly counters, “Hey, you're not the only one with a backup bow,” she challenges, holding up a compact crossbow.
Before anyone else can say anything, there’s a loud thud as Conner slams his fist into the wall of the train compartment, leaving a massive dent, “my powers are back!”
Dick stepped forward, lips tugging down, “how?”
Even M’gann looks a bit shocked, “I'm still-“
“I guess Kryptonians recover faster than humans or Martians,” he shrugs and eyes shift to M’gann, but you note the way Conner rubs at his arm subconsciously, and your eyes narrow.
“Don't even think about leaving me behind,” M’gann laments.
Roy turns to you, “Well, that settles that,” you shrug.
GENEVADecember 24th, 00:37 GET
Rocking up to the particle accelerator, you spot the body and crouch to run a quick diagnostic on the man.
“Happy Christmas Eve, everyone,” you mumble while ensuring that the man would be okay until the proper authorities and medics could arrive.
“Trail of destruction, this way,” Robin tags on and you nod as you stand back up, all of you running back into the building, nearly silent as you go.
You can hear it when the accelerator starts up, and Rob’s quick to pull up his holo-screen, “We need to take him down, or at least lure him away so we can safely disengage the-“
“SB!” you whisper shout when he shouts out and starts charging at Parasite.
“No, wait!” Robin tags on, but it’s too late. Conner’s charging straight at him, revealing your location as well.
“Seconds? No, I couldn’t,” Parasite teases, eyes lighting up green.
You cringe as you watch Parasite pull Conner forward with M’gann’s telekinesis and then let out a breath as SB decks him, but another wince quickly follows when Parasite pulls him back and launches him out.
You suck in a breath as Parasite begins flinging Conner around the lab. Even Roy seems to be getting antsy when he raises his bow, “What's wrong with-“
Before he can finish, M’gann lays a hand on his shoulder, “wait,” she commands. He hesitates but does, “I might have an idea…”
We watch as Parasite pulls Conner to him a third time, grabbing onto him and feeding on his power again, “Ah, what a rush!” he goads. “How do you do it, kid? Even Superman never recharged this fast,” he says, waiting until Conner was drained before tossing his body to the side. Your eyes slide to Conner, trying to ensure he is still breathing while M’gann explains her plan.
Parasite quickly clicks something on the panel before him, “Alright, Dangers, come on out! Only a couple of minutes before this baby's done warming up and eats Geneva.
“What do you think?” she asks, and your eyes dart to the Martian.
“Big risk to take on a theory,” Roy bites, but Dick’s gaze settles on you.
He offers a slight quirk of his lip and a barely noticeable shrug; it could work.
You nod, “Do it. Go!” you order, and everyone splits up.
M’gann steps out, making her entrance obvious to the target as she all but waltzes up to him, “what do you have against Geneva, anyway?” she asks.
“Never liked the food, but the menu keeps improving,” Parasite chuckles, rubbing his hands together, before summoning M’gann to him.
“I'm just the appetizer, remember?” she huffs, managing to duck out of the way. “Here's the main course!” she shouts, knocking his feet out from under him.
Everyone springs into action. Roy shoots off an arrow that covers Parasite in a foam-like substance that traps him where he is as it hardens.
Parasite is quick to react; using his pilfered Martian telekinesis, he pulls Roy’s bow, and then Roy himself into the air, “Foam? You think foam can hold me? Or stop me from crushing you with a thought?” he demands. “Combined Martian and Kryptonian powers here!” he scoffs, using his strength to start crumbling the material.
“But do any of those powers free you before I sabotage your death thingy?” Robin asks from his spot beside the keyboard.
“This one does,” he groans, finally freeing his arms and aiming his heat vision at Rob, who ducked down in time.
Artemis drops down next, shooting an arrow that emits gas, and you roll a few marble bombs quietly into the gas’s bounds. When Parasite turns his heat vision on Artemis, it sets off the gas, and the explosion sets off your marble bombs, adding to the flames.
Roy drops to the ground with a groan, and you quickly run up to check on him. Dropping down on a knee, you roll him onto his back, and when he groans again, you breathe. Your hand checks his pulse to ensure it’s not too elevated.
“Birdy-“ he groans, trying to sit up.
You push him down, “No. Stay down, Red Arrow,” you hiss, forcing him to catch his breath and slow his heart.
When Parasite stands up and starts goading, you pop back up and move closer to Artemis. “So clever… trick me into igniting inflammable gas… but you forgot… doofuses double dose of invulnerability… Fire can’t… touch me,” he argues, but you can hear the strain the flames are starting to take, and a small smirk graces your lips.
“Unless you make a meal of my powers and get my weaknesses as a side dish!” M’gann all but hisses at the villain.
Realization falls upon Parasite quickly, “No, No!” he shouts before finally succumbing and passing out.
“Aw, poor baby, something you ate?” M’gann teases.
Robin quickly gets back to the keypad, and in seconds he has shut the system down.
You let out a sigh as you hear the doors bang open. Agent Faraday and his squad of Interpol agents run in with trained precision. “We'll take it from here,” he states as his team puts out the fire.
“All yours,” you smirk lazily as Robin walks over to Stand beside you.
“Thanks for the tip, by the way,” he adds, smiling at you both. “Definitely helps to prep the inhibitor collar in advance.”
“Glad to be of service!,” Robin nods, and you bump his shoulder promisingly.
While Faraday turns to coordinate with his team, you and Rob turn back to yours. You turn in time to catch Roy taking Artemis’ proffered hand, pulling him back to his feet.
“Wow… He deigns to touch the hand of a suspected traitor,” Artemis drawls sarcastically, and you can’t help but snort.
“Mind open,” Roy replies, repeating your request from earlier. “I guess I never really saw you three in the thick of it before,” he admits. “Superboy's a hot-head,” he adds on, turning to the boy in question who had just wandered over with M’gann, and you can’t help but let out an even louder snort, one Roys glares at before adding, “but I know I'm not one to talk.” You smirk victoriously and he shakes his head before continuing. “You could each have betrayed us here, you didn’t. I’m sorry I doubted any of you. There is no mole.”
Roy’s admission immediately affects the general comfort level around you. Conner, M’gann, and Artemis all seem a bit lighter, Dick’s shoulders relax the slightest bit, but your eyes are focused on Roy. You want to believe him, want to think that the mission genuinely changed his mind, but you know him, and more than that, you can sense his emotions, and yet you can’t see a change.
GENEVADecember 24, 10:06 GET
The train made it to the Port of Geneva train station, the rest of the team was getting all their bags and gear together for exfil, but you had decided to go with Dick as he said his goodbye.
“So,” Haly drawled, “The show will go on. And I have the feeling I have you, Dangers, to thank,” he decides, staring at Dick, though his eyes flick to you quickly before returning to Dick.
“Don't know what you mean,” he shrugs.
“No, of course not,” Haly agrees, a kind knowing smile on his face. “But I'm guessing
you'll be leaving now.”
“Time to move on,” Dick tells him, shaking his hand, and you can’t help but smile softly.
“Well, Dick, I'll miss you,” Haly tells him, and you can feel the swell of emotion in the room, and you don’t need to look in his eyes to know that this moment is so much more than Dick could have ever asked for when he decided to come back.
He’s still quick to disagree. After all, he had covers to protect, “It's Dan! Dan Danger!”
Haly chuckles, placing a hand on Dick’s shoulder, “Son, you've grown, but some things never change. Like the sight of a Grayson on the trapeze. You can't fake that. Can't hide it,” Haly tells him, and you can’t help how your breath catches in your throat. “So, doing old ring master one last favor?” he asks softly.
Haly’s standing in the center of the ring, spotlights focused, “Ladies and gentlemen, the farewell performance of the Daring Dangers! Introducing Dan Danger!” he announces, and the lights switch to Dick, who waves at the audience.
You smile as you stand next to Conner in the wings, waiting for each of your queues. Dick looked so graceful as he launched from the trapeze platform, he always seemed at ease when he was in the air, and you were glad to see it again. You knew he needed this, this opportunity, for closure at the Circus in a way he’d never had before. You only hoped it’d finally help relieve some of the guilt you knew he still carried, despite how misplaced it was.
everything tags: @butterfly-skinnylegend
dc tags: @grey-water-colors @batarella @loninctzencarat @escapenightmare
cnng tags:
@babymango-writes @smile-more19 @bruiscdlikeviolets @truly-dionysus @farfromjustordinary
@sometimeseverythingsucks @dweeb-central @casedoina @cipheress-to-k-pop @currentresidentinhell
@anonomano @seninjakitey @wherethesidewalkens @whelmedparker @meigalaxy
@officiallydarkgeek @midnxghtblue @unini @blackwhiteandshadesofgradient @dontmesswithbeebo
@raggedyoldwitch @tinybeantm @unicorn-mya @bouqet-of-gay @duckmylife18
@kendallambrosio @haniscrying @torchbearerkyle @cynthiarose07 @lolsnacks
@mono--moonchild @emo-space-tea @notsostraightweeb @cryingnotcrying @sassyspanishartist
@we-flower-fan @aces-tattooartist @awkward-youtube-trash @laurcad123
@so0bercore @sanovr @feverish-dove @raginghellfire @mischiefmanaged71 @evermoore580
#codename: nightingale#cnng#cnng episode#cnng season 1#cnng s1 e24#yj#young justice#young justice x reader#young justice imagine#dc#dc imagine#sidekick!reader#disck grayson x reader#robin x reader#black canary#yj team#dick grayson#robin#wally west#kid flash#aqualad#kaldur#m'gann m'orzz#miss maritan#superboy#conner kent#artemis#artemis crock#roy harper#red arrow
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About that smut line
What do you think about "we're going to fuck right here? what if someone sees us?" and "you're such a fucking tease, you know that?" for Luca? Like he so busy with his invention so we decided to tease him "a bit".
Luca is a monsterfucker send tweet. This is my first time writing him f if not tht good ;w;
Rated Mature | Warnings: monster reader
Send a line
Now all the survivors have the same styled rooms, same furniture, and various clothes for all of them to wear-- Aside from the special clothing Lady Nightingale would have them wear for anyone can guess her amusement. However, the room you are contained in is massive, full of wires, computers, and other marvelous things Luca has never seen before.
You float around your tank, a giant ball with often purple mist within to keep you in a state of calm. You supposedly are a new survivor, a creature to level the playing field when it comes to dealing with those of the divine like Dream Witch or Feaster, or as you told Luca: you want to annoy them for a bit.
He can never single out your face while you are in the glass ball, you have no physical form constructed and seem unable to make up your mind on an appearance.
“Luca, imagine me.” You told him as he worked, and studied the tech used to keep you contained and translate your words. “What do you see when you hear my voice?” He shivers when he feels your presence touching his mind, it is strange for when he feels you within he feels stable. “You need to focus, dear one.”
The longer he spends time with you, the more he finds you show, or attempt to show attraction. After months of studying his fragile fragmented mind, there are others you have poked your way it but Priestess told you that is invasive.
“Let me out.” You are gentle, nervous, “I shall dawn the skin you see me as.” The ball is opened once the gas has been filtered out, and you hiss in discomfort then relax as you link your mind to Luca to keep yourself in this reality. You have tried to explain this to both Priestess and Luca but it is a bit too complex for mortal minds to comprehend.
“Wait!” He places a set of clothes he had found in his room one day. They are not in his size but they match the way he imagined your human form. “Put these on.”
“Is not nudity ideal for your kind?” Shifting your body from the mass of darkness and light.
“Well, nudity is called for when it is for bathing or well…”
“Coupling. Though you have worn clothes during this.”
“(Name), I said don’t peek into those!”
“My apologies, Luca.” The mist of your form fills the clothes lifting them before your human body is made in an instant. You blink, turning your head to look around, “Fascinating.” Examining yourself in the reflection of the containment ball. “You humans have very creative minds.”
Not many are used to seeing you outside of a match, and no one is used to being a human. It unsettles most who are not open-minded. You use it often once permitted by the Lady of the Manor. You find humans naturally make connections when in extreme circumstances or cut themselves off in order to protect themselves. Most are friendly but some are not ideal for bonding with.
You also learned sex can advance a connection when both are in agreement.
“We're going to fuck right here!?” Your room is not ideal, it is open for any to enter, “What if someone sees us?” He is being polite to you yet you have seen this man indulge in vices of the flesh in many of places.
“Then they may watch,” Deadpan as you sit on his lap, “Or join in if they need release as well.”
“Fuck.” That is hot in a lot of ways, “You're such a tease, you know that?” There is no way you do not understand what you are doing.
“I am aware.”
#idv luca#luca balsa#luca balsa x reader#luca balsa x you#reader insert#idv#anon ask#identity v x reader#identity v#identity v prisoner#idv prisoner#idv x you#idv x reader
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ngl i rushed to the inbox at the speed of light. could we please get a continuation of cinnabar and fem chief's romantic relationship headcanons? especially marriage related ones if you will 🥺 thank you!
Thank you for your patience! I had a lot of fun writing this request, though I did focus a lot on the proposal and wedding, so if you want more married life headcanons, well, feel free to ask!
Marriage-related headcanons with Cinnabar and F!Chief
Cinnabar and Chief dated for about five years before Cinnabar finally popped the question, and even that was only due to the egging of her comrades at Serpent Eye.
Cinnabar was so hesitant around the idea of possibly messing things up with her beloved girlfriend that it wasn't until Alyosha posed a grim scenario that she realized she had to act: “You both have a very dangerous line of work, Cinnabar. Either of you could die at any moment and you'd live with the regret of never getting to marry her the rest of your damn life.”
Though Cinnabar truly hoped she would go out before Chief, she was wise enough to know Alyosha's words rang true, so she began to plan her proposal.
Even after she'd made the decision, it still took a while for Cinnabar to get everything ready. A month or two, at least, and she made sure to casually bring up the topic of marriage, just to make sure the Chief was favorable to the idea. Cinnabar felt like she could've fainted from relief when she was.
Several members of Serpent Eye offered to help with her proposal, but Cinnabar turned them down. She didn't want a big, grand gesture, just a small, intimate moment between herself and her girlfriend.
When the day came, Cinnabar stood in front of a grave in an Eastside cemetery, dressed in a fancy suit and holding a bouquet of roses. Her nervous anticipation was at an all-time high as she waited for her girlfriend; she knew this was a bizarre place for a proposal, but Chief would understand and appreciate the sentiment… She hoped.
Indeed, when Chief arrived, she was quite confused, though she accepted the bouquet nevertheless. Cinnabar rolled out a blanket and placed a picnic basket down on it, saying that she wanted to introduce her father to her girlfriend… Understanding dawned on the Chief then.
As the picnic neared its end, Cinnabar had to fight nervous instinct to keep from constantly checking her pockets. The ring box was there, everything would be fine, she needed to stop worrying…
When she determined the moment was right, Cinnabar took a deep breath and shifted to get on one knee. Chief stared at her with wide eyes as she began, professing her endless love and adoration, as well as how happy Chief had made her, and how she wanted to stay eternally by her side…
Cinnabar pulled the small box from her pocket and opened it, revealing the simple but nevertheless beautiful ring within. “Chief, will you marry me?”
For a few moments, Chief seemed shocked still, terrifying moments in which Cinnabar held her breath. Then, the Chief beamed brighter than Cinnabar had ever seen her do so before, hugging her tightly. “Of course I will, Cinnabar,” she whispered, offering her hand for Cinnabar to slide the ring onto.
As they left the graveyard hand-in-hand, Cinnabar paused for a moment to look back at her father's grave… Somehow, she had a feeling that he approved of his daughter's chosen wife.
The members of the Bureau, as well as Serpent Eye, were extremely congratulatory for the pair, and offered their help as well. Cinnabar and Chief were extremely grateful for it, as their jobs were still extremely busy and left little time to plan their wedding.
Langley and Nightingale's help, in particular, was invaluable; there were several officials that protested Chief's union with a Sinner, but with their help, Chief was able to get them to concede and get all the needed paperwork processed.
The day of the wedding finally came around a year later. The chosen venue was an old chapel in Syndicate, miraculously mostly untouched by the hands of time – it did need a little fixing up, but there was no problem.
Cinnabar waited at the altar, trying not to fidget with her suit. Members of Serpent Eye were seated on one side of the venue, and members of the MBCC on the other – her family and the Chief's, respectively.
Finally, the doors opened, and her groomsmen walked down the aisle. Her Best Man, Alyosha, nodded at her as he took his place at her side. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to Cinnabar.
Now came the Chief's bridal party. She'd opted to have two Maids of Honor – Zoya and Shalom. The Paradeisian was more than happy wearing a dress, but Zoya had been allowed to wear a suit.
The ring bearer and flower girl could be none other than Hecate and Hella. Though many of the kids in the MBCC had wanted the positions, everyone kind of already figured it'd go to those two, and were happy enough being bridesmaids for the Chief.
Finally, Chief herself made her appearance. Cinnabar's breath caught in her throat as she laid eyes on her bride; as per tradition, she hadn't been allowed to see Chief the night before the wedding, so this was Cinnabar's first time seeing her in her gown; pure white, simple but flowing, with minimal lace. Very Chief-like, Cinnabar thought.
Langley had been chosen to walk Chief down the aisle and hand her off to Cinnabar. When her bride-to-be stopped in front of her and smiled, Cinnabar felt as though her heart might beat out of her chest.
Their vows were simple and sweet, yet brought many to tears – including the brides themselves. Not a single person doubted that these two were made for each other.
When Nightingale announced that she could kiss the bride, Cinnabar felt overwhelmed. She gathered Chief into her arms, hugging her close as they tenderly kissed, met by the cheers and applause of their friends and family.
Indeed, Cinnabar was sure this would be the happiest day of her life. The reception passed in a blur and mostly without incident, but Cinnabar had never felt more elated than in this moment.
(The ‘mostly without incident’ was due to Hella trying to start a food fight. Luckily, Chief reined her in fairly quickly.)
Unfortunately, due to the demands of their work lives, the two of them didn't really have time to have a honeymoon. It was a shame, because they could have used one. They did manage to snag a weekend off, though, which they spent at an Eastside hotel, doing their best to forget about work and enjoy their newlywed life.
Still, when they returned to the Bureau, not much changed. The wedding was mostly a legal formality, a status change recognized by official channels; in truth, the two had behaved like an adoring, married couple for many years prior.
In fact, the biggest change was that, by combining their marriage documents with Cinnabar's exceptional bill of behavior, Chief was able to wrangle special privileges that allowed Cinnabar to share her room with her, rather than having to return to her cell each night.
And as Cinnabar fell asleep that night, her wife in her arms, she couldn't help but think that was more than enough.
#ptn#path to nowhere#ptn cinnabar#path to nowhere cinnabar#cinnabar#ptn headcanons#path to nowhere headcanons#headcanons
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thank you @ethanray for letting me write for your gorgeous @fall-for-tolkien piece young elwing with birds! i hope you like this short drabble sequence.
read it on ao3 here.
~
The daughter of Nimloth the White and Dior Eluchíl the Beautiful is born at night under a blaze of stars shining against the silver waters of the Lanthir Lamath. Star-Spray, her mother names her as she rests, for the beauty of it as it lights up her newborn face, each tiny eyelash picked out perfectly in the light. Eyes closed, she curls into her mother’s breast.
The song of the nightingale has scarcely been heard in Beleriand since the departure of Melian. But as the dawn rolls over the horizon, their chorus rings throughout Ossiriand. It seems to say: sister.
~
Hello, the terns that nest in the soupy marshes at Sirion say to Elwing, we love you.
We love you, say the gulls, as they dive between the painted houses of the Edain. We love you, say the petrels as they make their way overhead to faraway places unseen and unheard of.
It is a small thing, but it helps, in its way. Elwing is only three, and she is very lonely. She holds her secret kinship with the seabirds of Sirion close to her chest –- like her father’s gem, it is precious, and so it is worth caring for.
~
“Is it true you can speak to birds?” the boy Eärendil asks her, not long after his arrival at the Havens.
Elwing shrugs a little. “They speak to me. Sometimes they listen, too.”
“Wow.” He kicks lightly at the sand. “I wish I could do something like that.”
She looks at him, from the corner of her eye. There is an earnestness in his young face that she likes. “I could show you how I call them to me, if you’d like.”
She holds out an arm, whistles, and they watch together, smiling, as the seabirds dive down towards them.
~
Here, the gull tells her. Look.
Elwing follows it across the sand, to the small tidal pool where it perches. Floating in the water amid the hair-like weeds: a bottle of blue sea-glass stoppered with a cork. She pulls it out, and unrolls the parchment within.
Elwing, beloved , the letter begins, all is well on the maiden voyage of Vingilot. But I miss you so!
She feels herself begin to smile, and hugs the letter against her breast. The gull rises into the air, its work done, and Elwing’s heart soars with it, high among the stars and the clouds.
~
The fairy terns hop along the shore in a miniature ballet, while Elwing’s sons watch, enraptured. Friends? One tern asks, shy. Friends. She assures it.
She pushes her bare toes into the sand as she observes the scene. Sirion is at its best in high summer: the laughter of children ringing along the beach, the shimmer of the sun and the Silmaril against the waves, the migratory birds returning towards the warmer weather. The twins’ father will be home soon, too.
One brave tern steps onto Elrond’s chubby hand. Another flutters towards Elros. All around them, tender joy takes flight.
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Rumors
This is a self-contained fic about the rumors Garrett Hawke faces about his relationship with Inquisitor Rose Trevelyan upon returning from Crestwood. Leliana confronts him about their relationship. It pairs with Chapter 65 of my long fic In the Shattering of Things!
WC: 2189
Rating: T
Excerpt below the cut 👇
“Do you always take people to the wine cellar for job offers?” he asks, reaching up for a bottle on the highest shelf to examine the label while his old friend sets her torch in the sconce.
“There are few places of true discretion in this wreck,” she says evenly. “Sit.”
Hawke raises his brow. He knows he ought to follow her directives— there’s a careful management to her tone that says so— but he’s feeling peevish having seen Rose and having failed to connect. He turns to tower over Leliana.
“I think I’ll stand.”
“Suit yourself,” she says.
“You didn’t see fit to interrogate me before,” he says, calling her game. “Unlike the Seeker.”
“You aren’t that mysterious, I’m afraid,” she chuckles. “Besides, what makes you so sure I didn’t?”
He laughs softly. “I don’t seem to recall answering a litany of questions.”
“There are ways to interrogate without throwing someone into a chair in a dimly lit room, Hawke.”
“Well, I can see that I’ve arrived,” he says, gesturing at the space. “What can I do for you, Nightingale? I used to watch you weave dandelion crowns for the village kids you know. You can’t scare me.”
Leliana sets her mouth and bores into him with unblinking gray eyes. It’s a different kind of intensity than when they were both young in Lothering. She’d buried the danger under fervor and lightness of spirit back then. And now her stare is filled with a thousand horrors and thousand more that have yet to be.
“Really?” he says, feeling the weight of it.
She persists. Hawke squirms.
“Dash it all. What ?”
“I know you’ve been sleeping with the Inquisitor.”
“You’ve been watching her?” he asks, incredulous. Leliana’s brow tilts as if his obtuseness surprises her and he snorts and reaches up to run both hands through his hair. “You’ve been watching me.” He paces while he chews on the implications— what had they seen? What did they think of them?
“Put yourself in my position, Hawke,” she says placidly. “I’m not foolish enough to believe my old friends cannot have hidden motives. Even before you left for Crestwood I could see the potential for influence. None of it mattered until you had her ear.”
“And you don’t trust your prior intelligence? ”
“Our prior source was Varric.”
He puffs his lips and starts organizing bottles again, picking up a label that’s become unglued. “Well I can’t argue with that. Since you seem to think I’m bad news for your boss, do your thing, Spymaster.”
Read the rest here!
DAFF Tag List:
@warpedlegacy | @rakshadow | @rosella-writes | @effelants | @bluewren | @breninarthur | @ar-lath-ma-cully | @dreadfutures |
@ir0n-angel | @inquisimer | @crackinglamb | @nirikeehan | @oxygenforthewicked | @mogwaei | @exalted-dawn-drabbles | @melisusthewee | @blarrghe | @agentkatie | @delicatefade | @leggywillow
#Hawke & Leliana#Garrett Hawke#leliana dragon age#In the Shattering of Things#Dragon Age Fan Fiction#Companion Fic#But it's self contained with context#hawke x trevelyan#Rose Trevelyan#Dragon Age Inquisition
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Chapter 13: A Much-Needed Respite
Theresa is feeling the stress of recent events more than usual, and Cullen convinces her to spend some time at the bath house to recuperate. While there, she's confronted with a revelation she's unprepared for.
Charter nods, already onto the next item. “Sutherland’s reported back.”
Theresa’s heart skips. For a report to come in all the way from Skyhold that quickly… That was either very good, or very bad. Judging by Charter’s face, she’s not optimistic.
But she’s not prepared for her answer. “It was a demon of Regret.”
Theresa’s whole body grows cold, despite the languishing heat. Regret! Oh Solas… “How much damage did it do?”
“A lot,” Charter answers flatly. “It slaughtered the caretakers who refused to evacuate with the Tranquil, but thankfully there were no other casualties. None of Sutherland’s crew were killed, either.”
Alive, but not unharmed. Theresa allows herself a moment’s sorrow for the loss of life. Still, it could have been much worse. Regret is relentless, and its roots go deep. “Does Leliana know?”
Again, Charter nods. “And she wanted me to warn you…”
“She’s closing it off.” Theresa swallows past the sudden lump in her throat.
“I’m sorry, Inquisitor.”
“Don’t be. It’s the right call.” She shakes her head, feeling her hair sway with the motion, frizzed and weighted by the humidity. I’ll have to find somewhere new for the Tranquil to go.
It had been a beautiful dream, but all dreams must eventually end. A lesson Solas also must come to learn.
But this raises a new problem. “Skyhold’s loss will look like a weakness to those watching from the outside,” she says carefully.
“Yes,” Charter agrees. “Sister Nightingale said she’d keep it quiet for as long as possible, but she’s also stirring the pot within the Chantry. There are a lot of daggers pointed at her back at the moment.”
“Stirring the pot” likely means dropping some rage bait into local discourse, and seeing who rises to bite. Theresa guesses there will be a new controversial edict issued by Divine Victoria in the next few days. Leliana is not one to mitigate risk. And if any of those daggers slip past her defences…
“I understand.” Theresa keeps her eyes on Charter, though her attention is trained keenly on Rosalie.
DAFF tag list: @rakshadow, @rosella-writes, @effelants, @bluewren, @breninarthur, @ar-lath-ma-cully, @dreadfutures, @ir0n-angel, @inquisimer, @crackinglamb, @theluckywizard, @nirikeehan, @oxygenforthewicked, @exalted-dawn-drabbles, @melisusthewee, @blarrghe, @agentkatie, @delicatefade, @leggywillow, @about2dance
#my writing#the black city#while time remains#wtr: tbc#theresa trevelyan#cullen rutherford#rosalie rutherford#charter dragon age#post-trespasser#cullen x theresa#cullen x trevelyan#dragon age fanfiction
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Here’s a showtunes song that I think fits Aang. God-willing I’ll do a more polished version with actual warmup later. Haha
commentary at the end of the post
and here’s some bagua sketchies
Everything has its season
Everything has its time
Show me a reason and I'll soon show you a rhyme
Cats fit on the windowsill
Children fit in the snow
Why do I feel I don't fit in anywhere I go?
Rivers belong where they can ramble
Eagles belong where they can fly
I've got to be where my spirit can run free
Gotta find my corner of the sky
Every man has his daydreams
Every man has his goal
People like the way dreams have of sticking to the soul
Thunderclouds have their lightning
Nightingales have their song
And don't you see I want my life to be
Something so much more than long...
Rivers belong where they can ramble
Eagles belong where they can fly
I've got to be where my spirit can run free
Gotta find my corner of the sky
So many men seem destined
To settle for something small
But I won't rest until I know I'll have it all
So don't ask where I'm going
Just listen when I'm gone
And far away you'll hear me singing softly to the dawn:
Rivers belong where they can ramble
Eagles belong where they can fly
I've got to be where my spirit can run free
Gotta find my corner
Of the sky
I tried to very deliberately sandpaper out as much femininity in the enunciation as I could in order to emulate a young boy, seeing as I just re-watched Ember Island Players and am really incensed on behalf of our boi and the weaponized femmephobia therein. Coulda had a legit moral in there about ‘it’s ok to be femme’ but it had to be just making fun of him. ._.
Brings to mind the hypocrisy inherent in the writing of the episode Bitter Work.
Maybe I’ll post another sound bite in this same altered key to demonstrate the difference between this recording and my normal voice.
Might even go hogwild and do the original key for Katara or Toph. But which 🤔
#soundcloud#showtunes#aang love#aang stan#atla fanart#aang defense squad#atla aang#avatar aang#avatar the last airbender#atla#aang#martial arts#pacifism#bagua#pose drawing#anatomy practice#airbending#earthbending#soft style martial arts
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You Are The Key To Everything
March 26th, 2024
Whatever it is that causes you pain, blesses you. If all you can see is darkness, find the light. Seek for it. I’m sure there will be other people who will help you in finding it. People who want what is best for you when you’re going through difficult times in your life.
Failure is the key to having a meaningful and successful life. With failure you will develop qualities in you that are not present yet and you will gain these qualities. They will be more developed as time goes by. All successful people had failures and these failures didn’t hinder them from achieving their goals. They became their stepping stones to reach their dreams.
When you are anxious or worried, be patient. Learn to wait… For everything. Patience is a virtue and having patience leads to a happy and contented life.
You are the key to everything that will open a new perspective. One that you haven’t seen that will make your life worth living.
Always remember that in every step you take, God is walking beside you. When all else fails, God will never leave you. He will always have your back. Keep your faith in Him and always walk with faith in God. I’m ending this article with a quote I’ve read on Pinterest: “And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm is all about. ~ Haruki Murakami”.
#Silence Speaks When Words Cant#Nightingale At Dawn Writes#Artsy Ally LB#Blog#Blogger#Personal Blog#Deep Thoughts#Inspirational Words#Motivational Words#Life#Pain Blesses You#Find The Light#Difficult Times#Failure#Key#Meaningful Life#Successful Life#Personal Growth#Personal Development#Achieve Your Goals#Stepping Stones#Reach Your Dreams#Be Patient#Patience Is A Virtue#Happy Life#Contented Life#You Are The Key To Everything#New Perspective#Life Worth Living#God Has Your Back
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#unhallowedarts - "But a Mermaid has no Tears" - On Andersen's Byronic Melancholies
Harry Clarke "The Little Mermaid" (1916)
“Never had she danced so beautifully; the sharp knives cut her feet, but she did not feel it, for the pain in her heart was far greater.” (Hans Christian Andersen)
There is probably a moment, when every young one with a Romantic streak felt kinship with Lord Byron. As soon as “The Corsair” or “Manfred” is opened. “Oblivion—self-oblivion! Can ye not wring from out the hidden realms Ye offer so profusely—what I ask? - It is not in our essence, in our skill; But—thou may'st die.“ We all had the measles and we had Byron. Ever since his lordship laid down his life for liberty and drama in Missolonghi, Hiera Polis, back in 1824. But Andersen? Hans Christian Andersen, teller of enchanting fairy tales, beloved by old and young across the globe? “Read Byron's biography, oh! he was just like me, even down to his little tattling;“, Andersen wrote himself, “my soul is ambitious like his, it can only feel happy when admired by all“ – he was 20 by then and obviously had a case of “Byron” more severe than the measles.
Harry Clarke "The Elf Hill" (1916)
And as difficult as it may be to align the heart-broken, melancholic, Byron-reading young Dane with Hans Christian Andersen in the guise of Danny Kaye singing the theme song of Charles Vidor’s movie from 1952 and the image of bedtime stories for the little ones – his tales are, by and large, positively dark. And while Byron had the means, the mind and the mettle to act out many of his imaginations and become his own Rock star myth, Andersen’s demons remained firmly fastened to his imagination and wishful thinking and came to light only clothed in quite harmless mannerisms and in the guise of his tales, dressed up in fairytale-like garb, more often than not. Up to the point that Andersen never engaged in physical relationships with other human beings, neither men nor women, even though there were love letters written to male friends and rejected marriage proposals, courtships and mentally intimate friendships with the female of the species, most notably the back then immensely famous Swedish opera singer Jenny Lind. She saw the eccentric poet as something of a brother, inspired him to write at least three of his fairy tales and thereby become the author of her household name “The Swedish Nightingale” and maybe she even became the role model of the Snow Queen who plays cruel games with poor Kay’s impaled heart.
Harry Clarke "The Snow Queen" (1916)
But then, the idea of fairy tales being stories for children, is relatively new. Back in the day, when those Europeans downtrodden by the major players of the Age of Empires felt the need the need to preserve their identity in heroic epics and old folk tales, those narratives were a highly political affair. And even before the Brothers Grimm began their epic quest of collecting and writing down folktales in the German states, exemplary for others who gathered the archetypical variants told from Dingle Bay to the Ural and beyond, Romantics began to write their own fairy tales.
Harry Clarke "The Butterfly" (1916)
There are classical antecedents, Aesop and Apuleius, to name but two and Charles Perrault, who introduced folk tales into the official literary canon already in the 1600s, but the tradition of composing Kunstmärchen, literary fairy tales, began in earnest with the dawn of the Romantic Age in Germany. Tieck, Novalis, Chamisso, de la Motte Fouquè and, most prominently, E.T.A. Hoffmann formed a trend, followed up by other romantically moved minds such as Charles Nodier. During the repressive atmosphere and censorship of European Restauration’s Congress System after the wars ended in 1815, literary fairy tales often were writers’ vanishing point as well, instinctively and romantically, Wilhelm Hauff’s and Hans Christian Andersen’s, who came up with some rather ambiguous “once upon a time”-stories under the influence of Shakespeare, Walter Scott and Lord Byron. Who, promethically instigated to rebellion and lead by example anyway.
Harry Clarke "The Nightingale" (1916)
There is more to Hans Christian Andersen than literary fairy tales. He wanted to become a dancer at first, then an actor, struggling with his humble origins as son of a cobbler and an alcoholic washerwoman from Odense, an ugly duckling indeed, with barely an education to speak of, who had dreams of becoming a swan one day. He thirsted for baking in the limelight and he did, finally, after discovering his knack for storytelling in his late teens. Initially, he was at least as successful with novels, poems and travelogues as he was with his fairy tales and he found his patrons, his niche as something of a curiosity among the better classes of Denmark and his fame as an author already during his life and times. But his fairy tales stand out. As literary treatments and dreamwork, processing his many fears and imagined shortcomings as well as his wishful thinking into artificial archetypes firmly enshrined in Western thinking, from the lesson taught by the cheeky nipper in “The Emperor’s New Cloths”, the grimly poetic fate of the “Little Mermaid” and the sheer beauty of “Thumbelina” appealing to everyone’s inner child, young and old. “His own image; no longer a dark, grey bird, ugly and disagreeable to look at, but a graceful and beautiful swan. To be born in a duck's nest, in a farmyard, is of no consequence to a bird, if it is hatched from a swan's egg” and even if Andersen himself made himself believe that he was something of an illegitimate grandson of a Danish king along with other bloomers from the neurotic's family romance, he became a swan indeed, graceful and beautiful, whose song is sung in more than 125 languages across the globe.
Harry Clarke "The Hindu Maid" (1916)
Harry Clarke's full set of illustrations for Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tales from the 1916 edition, including the downright psychedelic colour plates can be wondered and marvelled at here:
#unhallowedarts#dark literature#dark art#dark aesthetic#dark academia#gothic aesthetic#gothic art#fairytale#fairytale aesthetic#dark fairytale
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Something like ‘home sick from work’ or ‘picnic’ could be interesting prompts for the microfics! :)
Three things: (1) my friend Danny has a lovely illustration/microfic of a Kirashino picnic here, please go admire it and the absolutely insane top-down angle it was drawn at.
(2) I apologize for how long this took... I started writing and then immediately got sick myself, which helped me come up with descriptions but really hindered my ability to write them down 😭.
(3) If it wasn't obvious by the slow post rate of these last few prompts, my free time is back to being somewhat limited, so this is the last microfic! Thank you so, so much to everyone who sent a prompt in! I'll definitely run something like this again someday, it was really fun :) This batch will be posted up on AO3 soon, after I rest a bit.
Kirashino microfic #6/6?: Home sick from work
It’s a proven fact: Yoshikage Kira does not take sick days.
That doesn’t mean he’s never been sick, necessarily, but he’s not the type to laze around in bed when he doesn’t feel well. The last time he caught the flu bug circulating in his office, he set a nighttime alarm for his twice-daily dose of fever reducer, wore a mask all week, and stayed out of the break room. His supervisor had praised him for his commitment and excellent work ethic.
“Kawajiri Kosaku”, on the other hand, has called out sick for three days, and is completely fed up with the whole ordeal. It just doesn’t make sense. He’s young, he has a strong immune system, and he takes excellent care of himself. He should be feeling better by now, or at least a bit less like week-old roadkill.
Three days in, and it’s all Kira can do to lie on the Kawajiri’s couch, desperately craving sleep he can’t have. Every time his eyes slide shut and his mind goes quiet, the tight, sharp ache in his throat prods him back to listless wakefulness, forces him to sit up and hack another wad of bloody phlegm into the nearest tissue. It’s miserable work. His chest hurts from coughing.
Time passes in sludgy fits and starts, the dawn light outside growing steadily brighter. The next time he rolls over to cough, it’s agonizingly bright, and Shinobu is standing in the doorway, a shopping bag tucked under her arm. When did she get here?
“Sorry,” she says quietly. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. How are you feeling?”
Instead of leaving, she comes in to tidy up his sick den, picking up trash and empty cups. It’s irritating. The whole point of him staying downstairs is to prevent infecting the one healthy person left in the house. What’s he supposed to do if she gets sick?
“Shinobu,” he tries to say, but his voice breaks with a raspy squeak. He tries again and nothing comes out.
“Hayato is feeling a lot better today,” Shinobu says cheerfully, giving no indication she heard him. “So I’m sure you won’t be far behind.”
Kira doesn’t want to hear about the disease vector she calls her son, doesn’t want to even think about him. The idea of Hayato contaminating him, of his virus squirming its way past his immune system, replicating, clogging his airways with gunk and boiling his brain to fevered mush is…
Another thick, sticky cough bubbles up and forces him forward, tears pricking his eyes as mucus shifts painfully in his chest. Shinobu is there with a pack of tissues when the cough is finally productive, brings a glass of water when he’s done with the tissues.
“That sounds awful, sweetie. Can I help?” She brings her shopping bag over to the couch. A thin blue box emerges from the shopping bag. From the box, like magic, emerges a fresh bottle of SS Bron.
Shinobu! Wonderful woman! His own Florence Nightingale. He didn’t even know they were running low on cough medicine. He watches her measure out a few milliliters of cola-colored syrup into a spoon, the harsh sunlight bouncing off the rim in a blinding white circle.
The light.
“T-” Kira says. Swallows hard, throat working a slimy circuit. Tries again: “Time is it?”
“Almost noon. Why?”
His last dose was at eight o’clock, not even four hours ago. It hasn’t been nearly long enough for him to have another. Didn’t she read the label?
Horrible woman! Is she trying to give him brain damage? Kill him?
He bristles, ready to admonish Shinobu for her carelessness, but the moment he opens his mouth she brings the spoon to his lips. A barely-there sweetness trickles over his tongue.
“Don’t worry about that. You need the rest,” she says, smiling fondly at him. “I’m not keeping you on a schedule, honey. You just work on feeling better.”
That’s not it, not at all! Kira isn’t worried about oversleeping. He’s worried about missing too much work and contagion and how he has, just now, possibly overdosed on codeine. He would happily explain this to her, but his throat is packed with ground glass and forcing out anything louder than a sigh is painful, terribly painful.
Shinobu bends down to kiss his cheek, then places a cool hand on his forehead. He closes his eyes as her fingers push through his sweat-sodden bangs, scratch lightly at his scalp.
It’s humiliating, being petted like a dog, or a… something. That’s it. Humiliating.
He’s too sick to move, though. So, so, sick.
Might as well make himself comfortable.
#jojo's bizarre adventure#shinobu kawajiri#yoshikage kira#kira yoshikage#kirashino#an extra 200 words because i suffered for this one... i lived it (sort of)#i had no nice housewife to buy me cough syrup unfortunately 😔 kira you lucky bastard#i also found out while researching that american cold meds like nyquil are banned in japan bc they're classified as illegal narcotics#while japanese cold medication often contains caffeine to help people who are working... i would not like to take that stuff lmao
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...Should I make Druig a dad w/ Katey (that's what Hecate!Eternal goes by, but it's still you ig?) with twin girls when the gang arrives...or is that too much?
Because I already got the names, powers, and personalities picked out: They are 4 in this.
Laoise (Light Manipulator & Solar Magic; very energetic & social butterfly, loves sneak attacks, very hands-on learner; the older twin so she is very close and protective of her baby sister; Nicknames: Little Dove, Our Dawn, Mighty Warrior, Little Light, Our Sun)
Aisling (Dream Prophet & Lunar Magic; more quiet and introverted, loves to hang in her mom's magical library & the Amazon medical hut, go-to lie detector; being the younger twin, she is shy but her big sister always reassures her that she is brave; Nicknames: Little Nightingale, Little Seer, Mini-Librarian, Sweet Thinker, Our Moon)
Both girls have Druig's eyes & dimples & freckles; but Laoise has his brown curls that are lighter with slight highlights, while Aisling's is much darker and slightly wavy. Both like to wear it long and loose, but will wear it up if it is done by their mom and dad.
Both are extremely close to their parents, and see your and Druig's relationship as gold standard, and hope for that in their future. They grew up watching how you two were still separate individuals, but a powerful unit. They witnessed every gentle kiss and tight embrace, every loving gaze and soft smile, all the whispers of love and reassurance, and the overwhelming love and respect you two held for one another.
They don't really ask their Aunt Sephie about love because one time they did, and she got really quiet. She was still smiling, but her eyes became sad, as if she was remembering a certain blue-eyed friend with a silver streak in his hair who would keep her secrets and held her heart.
There are 2 other kids, both you and Druig's biological kids, but you pretty much adopted them. They are both
Damian, it was a name he gave himself. He was born in what is now Pakistan but was sold to Turkish military. He was sold into the army and trained since birth to be a soldier. At 20, he was then killed by order of his commanding officer, and resurrected as a "Div or Dev". He was then given a very strict and formal education: learning many languages and varied skills. His favorite that he picked up was drawing and painting. The only person who treated him with kindness was Shireen, a servant girl who was mistreated due to having survived leprosy as a child. He pitied the little girl for being assigned to a killer, but she always reassured him that she was happy to be his friend. In response to her kindness, he offered to teach her how to read and write. When he learned of her death, he collected her ashes and killed everyone involved in her death before escaping to look for anyone who could revive her.
Shireen was born into poverty, she doesn't remember much of her past. She remembers that she was sick for a very long time before recovering. But after she recovered, her mother started to yell for anything. Not only that, but she would beat and ignore her too. She cried at night asking why Allah would curse her with such a hideous child; it wasn't long until she disappeared. Shireen knew her mother was cruel to her, but she still loved her. A man would find her on the streets, and told her that she was sold to them. She was assigned to be the Div's servant. The other servants would tell her horrible stories about him: saying that he would tear her limb from limb, pluck out her eyes, and drink her blood. But she quickly discovered that wasn't true. She also remembered dying, and being lost. But soon she woke up...only...with wings?
Dear God, I have absolutely ZERO self-control.
Tagging: @spacetalbot, @valeskafics, @beananacake
#druig#druig imagine#druig headcanons#druig x reader#mcu#marvel x reader#marvel cinematic universe#marvel eternals#eternals#poc oc#2 poc oc#dad!druig#maybe?#do y'all want it?#eternals headcanons
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After obsessing over Top Gun Maverick and the Dagger Squad here are call signs that pop into me head. Some make sense, some don't. Feel free to use them if you are inspired to write.
☆
Birds -
Wren
Seagull
Finch
Starling
Nightingale
Magpie
Crow
Jackdew
Hawk
Kestrel
Kite
Parakeet
Quial
Canary
Dove
Swan
Bluejay
Robin
Birdie
Bugs -
Ladybug
Hornet
Firefly
Wasp
Bee
Honeybee
Bumble
Bumblebee
Weather -
Hale
Sunny
Storm
Flash
Twister
Tempest
Tornado
Hurricane
Rain
Gale
Foggy
Bolt
Plants -
Rose
Violet
Daisy
Tulip
Bluebell
Willow
Oak
Ash
Basil
Marigold
Clouds -
Nimbus
Cirrus
Sky -
Dusk
Dawn
Moon
Moonlight
Crescent
Luna
Eclipse
Stars
Starlight
Stardust
Nova
Stella
Random -
Mabel
Silver
Goldie
Blondie
Venus
Juno
Raptor
Mythical -
Harpy
Valkyrie
Ghost
Banshee
Phantom
Medusa
Pegasus
Cerberus
Manitcore
Centaur
☆
If any of these are already in use, please don't be offended. These are just what have floated into my thoughts. Please let me know if they are as I will be more than happy to read or remove from the list.
That being said you do not need to tag me if any are used, just hoping to inspire anyone, maybe with an amazing idea but waiting on a call sign 😊
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Read in January 2024:
Silver Nitrate by Silvia Moreno-Garcia 🎞️ ☆☆☆☆☆
Soviet Daughter: A Graphic Revolution by Julia Alekseyeva 🇷🇺 ☆☆☆☆
Hungry Ghost by Victoria Ying 🍜 ☆☆☆☆☆
The Dragon Reborn (Wheel of Time #3) by Robert Jordan -> audiobook re-read (Rosamund Pike’s narration is absolutely stellar) 🗡️ ☆☆☆☆☆
Finlay Donovan Jumps The Gun by Elle Cosimano 🚨 ☆☆☆
Own Your Space by Alexandra Gater 🪞 ☆☆☆
The Bear and the Nightingale by Katherine Arden -> audiobook re-read ⚰️ ☆☆☆☆☆
The Girl in the Tower by Katherine Arden -> audiobook 🐎 ☆☆☆☆☆
Opinions by Roxane Gay -> I will read anything and everything Roxane Gay writes, and that includes opinion essays on everything from the 2016 election to The Bachelor. 📄 ☆☆☆☆½
The biggest revelation this month for me was that I actually don’t hate audiobooks after all. I’ve enjoyed them when it’s celebrities reading their own memoirs (like Viola Davis or Dave Grohl), but otherwise I’ve struggled in the past with them. I have a lot of trouble with auditory processing and comprehension, so after a few failed attempts I had written them off completely.
Then in November, I decided to re-read the first 3 books of The Wheel of Time that Rosamund Pike had narrated on Audible, and it was like a light dawning for me. It was such an amazing mental escape for me to listen while I was at work, and because it was a re-read I already knew what would happen and reading comprehension wasn’t an issue.
So I tried again with a re-read of The Bear and the Nightingale, and moved on to a first time read of The Girl in the Tower, and again, it worked so well for me to be able to listen during my work day and the long commute home. I think in particular audiobooks are a great fit for me when they’re fantasy novels that are more descriptive than dialogue-heavy, so I’m definitely going to continue to seek out the audio version of those sorts of books on my TBR.
All in all, it’s been awesome getting more time for reading during the week now that audiobooks are on the table!
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