#“It WAs thE exEcuTOrs” oh fuck off

[lizzybeeee]

Inquisitor: "Is there any way Solas can be reasoned with?"

Me after Solas has killed Varric, used blood magic on me, trapped me in the fade, created the blight, made the titans tranquil/fucked with the dwarves, started the chain of events that led to Southern Thedas being destroyed, and stealing all my good gear from Inquisition:

[comicaurora]

Nick Bostrom's "Fable of the Dragon Tyrant," which CGP Grey adapted into a video, left me feeling unsatisfied, and I got a certain unsettling vibe about the entire story.

I don't think it was the dragon's lack of agency, that just makes it an unusually traditional Western dragon.

You're a master at picking narratives apart to figure out why they don't satisfy. Do you have any insight, opinions, or cracktheories about why this story might be unsatisfying to some folks?

Probably because it's a very unsubtle metaphor casting the dragon as death, and death itself as a cruel, malevolent beast devouring and subjugating humanity for its own whims. This is very much intentional on the part of the writer. The paradigm of the story is that the dragon is huge, terrifying and incalculably cruel, and everyone lives their lives in the shadow of its terror or are just too deluded to recognize that it's COMING TO EAT THEM OH GOD

Intrinsic in this metaphorical structure is the idea that the dragon, aka death, is an artificial imposition on the natural order, and if we just got rid of the big ol' mean dragon, everybody would live forever and be fine. Accepting that the dragon exists is framed as a sign of desperation or even cowardice. This is an understandable read when facing a monster that only SEEMS timeless and inevitable (like LeGuin's thoughts comparing the current state of capitalism to the historical acceptance of the divine right of kings) but becomes bizarre when applied to something as legitimately factual as biological death. It's not even framed as unnatural death - the dragon specifically gets sent mostly old people. The metaphor is very explicitly about trying to frame death from old age as a big horrible dragon that everyone only thinks is unstoppable.

I get what they're going for here. The purpose of this story is to make the audience question if death is a true inevitability or if it can be fought, staved off, even defeated. But in the process, the story frames the systems of the world that have formed around death - doctors, pallative caregivers, will executors - as macabre gears in the machine dedicated to the genocidal cruelty of feeding the dragon.

In the dragon tyrant framing, these people only exist to make the rest of the world more okay with flinging themselves down the gullet of the dragon and to streamline the process by which everybody dies. By casting death as the enemy, everybody whose jobs are based on the compassionate act of comforting and aiding people suffering from loss become reframed as collaborators with the incalculably evil enemy, and everyone who's ever accepted their own death becomes a loser. This is a deeply cruel way to frame people who dedicate their lives to helping people through one of the hardest and most tragic aspects of life.

Damn, that's fucked up. Look at this eloquent idiot, explaining why we should be okay with letting a big dragon eat us because it's the natural order. Clearly he is wrong and it's not debasing at all to want to stay alive and not get eaten by a big dragon. This is a fallacy of false analogy: death is like being eaten by a big mean dragon. All his arguments look ridiculous when applied to getting eaten by a big mean dragon, therefore they must be ridiculous when applied to dying when your organs start failing because they've been running nonstop for nine decades and biological systems accumulate wear and tear like literally everything else in the universe.

Entropy increases; systems break down, from DNA to planetary orbits. Successfully shoot down the dragon and you'll end up outliving everything you thought was eternal, even the stars. The goal of immortality isn't really to personally witness the sun exploding, it's to have more good time. It's to make your twenties last into your sixties. It's to keep your back painless and your vision good for longer. We want to postpone the story's end as long as we can, and so we extrapolate "more time" into "I never want to die, I want to be young and healthy and hot forever" even though "forever" doesn't exist. To look to "forever" is to understand that your culture and language will drift, your home will eventually crumble out from under you, your shoreline will erode and change, your climate will transform, your tectonic plate will subduct or shatter, your moon's orbit will slow and tidally lock, and eventually your sun will start burning helium and cook your planet. You don't want "forever" to look like that, you want it to look like your twenties felt. But at that point you aren't fighting the Big Mean Dragon That Eats People, you're fighting the ocean and the biosphere and the earth and the stars, trying to hold them in place against entropy so your immortality can have an equally immortal world to enjoy it in. No, this argument doesn't want true immortality, it wants their twenties to last longer. But it can't admit that.

Back to the story. There's a condescending and spiteful tone in the narration. Death (being eaten by a big mean dragon) is OBVIOUSLY awful and we should all be fighting as hard as we can to make it stop happening. Even a child can see it.

The story even helpfully adds a lengthy moral explanation at the end, in case you didn't understand that the dragon was the inevitability of death and we should dedicate all our resources to figuring out how to make a big rocket and shoot it.

"Nobody should ever die" is generally understood to be a childish dream with extremely obvious and unpleasant consequences that would turn its realization into an unending and waking nightmare, and once out of the confines of easy metaphor, the story tries to act like that wasn't what it was just saying. But its more realistic proposed substitute, "It would be great if people could live longer and have more healthy, youthful years in them," is probably the world's most uncontroversial statement. This story frames it like a bold revelation that the world will attempt to beat down and crush out of a misguided acceptance that Big Mean Dragon comes for us all. It's a morality fable whose conclusion is "I hope science improves the length and quality of our lives, potentially even to the point where we never have to die at all," which has been the number one goal of huge swaths of science since the invention of agriculture. This is not a bold or controversial take. It's just being written as though we're all looking at the naked emperor and pretending he's wearing pants.

[cerastes]

I didn’t love the Executor 2 event but it was ok, just ok(tm), proverbial mid. I like smaller scale stuff that informs us about world building more than anything but I feel like they can do that midst a larger plot with pay-off by this point. Just sort of stings a bit having secluded pieces like this that could be arcs in bigger stories, be the main story of an event.

That said, Federico Fedex the Executor is a funny fucking guy so it was nice seeing him in action. I like the other laterano in a love to hate them kind of way, they reinforce the notion that the Laterano we know and like are very much outliers because they are mcfucking weird and eccentric by lat standards and thus cool in the rest of the world (Fedex, Ambriel, Arene), or just so good at being a lat that they loop back to being cool (Exusiai).

Lemuen is a pretty cool character that shows institutionalized bigotry in an otherwise very decent person. I don’t agree with the whole “Oh Lemuen is actually fucked up” take, too shallow and surface level, Lemuen’s shown plenty that she’s a good person, she’s also a high ranking member of the whimsical ethnostate armed forces, and grew up with whimsical ethnostate beliefs and assumptions because, yeah, that’s what happens when you grow up in a whimsical ethnostate that has in fact provided for you all you could ever want in a famously cruel world. She’s representative of how Lats are pretty insular but not inherently vile or discriminatory, same way Sarkaz are not all bloodthirsty mercenaries and crooks. If you had the ability to empath with select people, then you likely would think a bit badly of those you can’t empath with. Lemuen’s a bit above this because of Fiammetta, and as we’ve seen, people like Exu and Ambriel are perfectly socially adjusted with non-Lats.

Stuff like how Lemuen is a window into good core values vs. institutionalized bigotry is where Arknights’ writing shines. They just need to land narrative pay-off better at this point. So yeah, ok event with highlights I appreciate.

[solaiced]

CASE 4: DON'T MOVE, FUSHIGURO TOJI IS YOUR EXECUTOR!

!content!: knife play, creampie, cuts, consensual but not safe or sane and Toji is an asshole.

wc: 1,3k

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You snarl as the battle finally comes to an end, pushing the black haired man on the tatami floor. He grunts in pain as his chest and chin hit the ground, as his arms are pinned on the small of his back, where you sat.

“Toji…” You drawl, combing your fingers through his hair while you disarm him of his prop knife.

“I know. I was just… distracted.” He grumbles, trying to shake you off gently.

“I’m not getting off.” You announce, bouncing on his folded arms to cement the idea into his brain. He grunts once more, your weight on his back pushing him down when he shook.

“Get off me woman. Or I’ll use the knife on you while I fuck you.” He threatens. But that gets you an idea, loosening your hold on him as he takes the chance to flip you over and lay between your legs, pinning your arms above you with a single hand.

“Now, you’re distracted.” He grins, smacking a sloppy kiss on your cheek. You squeak, the saliva smearing on your face.

“Ah, you pig!” You scold, squirming to get out of his hold. He laughs, pinning his hips to yours so you couldn’t move anymore. The air in the rooms suddenly changes, the tension hotter, and your breaths mingle with each other from how close your and Toji’s faces are.

His chuckles die down, cool green eyes piercing into yours. Silence fills the room. You don’t know who leans in first, but your lips crash together, in a mess of saliva and teeth and tongue, while he lets go of your hands so that they could wrap around his head and bring him impossibly closer. He grunts, hips moving unconsciously as your legs wrap around them.

Toji pulls away, huffing. He stares at you, eyes lidded in lust, he looks like he’s about to devour you. You slide your hand from his nape to his cheek, swiping a hand on his growing stubble. He leans into it, planting a kiss to your palm.

“Can we try it?” You ask, nervous that he would refuse. But truthfully, you knew he would accept, because he was always into freaky stuff with you, always open to trying new things in bed.

“Try what?” He straightened, sliding his hand under you to bring you to sit on his lap. You plant your knees beside his thighs to steady yourself, although he already did so when he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Knife…” You pout in embarrassment, looking away as your cheeks warm. He smirks, lifting his head to nuzzle your neck.

“Really?” He drawls, suckling a part of the underside of your jaw. You nod, unable to voice your embarrassing wants. He kisses the place he was sucking a hickey on and pulls away, pushing your chin to face him.

“I was waiting for you to ask that, actually.” Of course he did. Freaky as he is.

“Oh.” Is all you say. Toji places you on your back on the tatami mat and leaves the room to get a knife. Small enough so that it wouldn’t cut too deep, but sharp enough to hurt deliciously.

He returns, said knife glinting in his hand as he heads over to you. He gives you a sweet smile he’s never shown any of his victims before and crouches in front of you.

“So, you want me to cut your clothes?” He asks and it's the weirdest thing he’s done in a while.

“What do you mean?” You inquire confusedly.

“Well, usually, you take off your clothes before I come.” He slices your sports bra off with the sharp edge of his knife, you yelp.

“That was my favorite, you jerk!” You try to cover yourself, but he puts the knife at your neck, immediately immobilizing you. Your chest, however, heaves in panic, your breath quickening.

“Don’t move, woman.” Toji threatens, moving the knife to slice through your leggings and panties next. You stay still, shell-shocked at the fact that he would threaten you. He rips the tattered fabric off of your body, revealing you to him. He chuckles, lifting your chin with his knife so that you would look up at him.

“Smile, you look so much prettier when you do.” He croons affectionately, the blade cutting your skin as deeply as a scratch. You wince nonetheless, nipples hardening at the stimulation and the cold of the room. You’d been training for so long you had began sweating, which in turn made it colder.

“Excited? You should be.” Toji slams his lips against yours, moving in sync with yours. The knife pulls back so that he wouldn’t accidentally skewer you. You whimper in his mouth, putting both hands on each of his cheeks, bringing him closer.

He groans, putting the knife down as he tugs his sweatpants and boxers down, revealing his half hard length, twitching in anticipation. He takes off his shirt in a hurry, the air suddenly too hot when he fees you staring.

“Enjoy the view?” He moans when your hand reaches out to stroke his cock, thumb lingering just over his tip to collect the precum that had gathered at the slit.

“V’course, I do. You’re my favorite.” You kneel on Toji’s strong thigh and grind slowly on the hard muscles. You feel him get harder in your hand and get off of his leg to hover over him. He looks up inquisitively. You always asked for prep, did you feel you were wet enough to take him?

“Cut me or I’ll do it.” You warn, sliding your hand down to your pussy and spreading yourself, he obeys you, picking the knife back up with a clank. Swiping the sharp edge on your thigh, you both watch as blood spills out of the tiny cut, beading at the surface. You feel a wave of heat travel through your veins as the pain registers in your brain, and he cuts you again and again until each thigh has the same amount of blood pooling on your skin, lust overriding the agony when you press Toji's tip to your entrance. The man's cock twitches and he grabs your thigh to brace himself, other hand careful not to stab you.

A loud moan traverses the training hall, but you couldn't figure out whose it was. He mumbles something while he tries to not cum in two seconds and a half. Shutting his eyes, he opens his mouth to order you to move, but you were already a step ahead, bouncing on his lap like he was a trampoline.

Again, he slices you open, this time, on your hip. You’re not sure who shakes, him, from pure pleasure, or you, from the little cuts he littered on your thighs and hips. But, as you bounce on his cock, he's sure he's never seen blood Look so pretty on someone. Or, maybe, it's the opposite. Maybe, it's you who’s pretty covered in blood. Toji feels like a sap, but he almost proposes on the spot when you finally pick up the pace, rubbing nonsensical patterns on your clit.

He throws the knife away and grabs your hips, staining his hands with your life force, hips buckling up to get more of heaven (your cunt).

Slapping of slick flesh fills the air, sex is the only thing that you smelled in the room. He groans, trying to warn you of the upcoming danger. But alas, he was too late, ropes of cum filling your unprotected cunt.

Toji huffs as his back hits the floor, chest frenetically heaving up and down. Your head goes to follow and lay on his left pec, cheek smushing against it.

“You’re going to have a hell of a shower with that much wounds.” He chuckles breathlessly.

“You mean after you make me cum, Mr. Premature Ejac.” You joke back. He groans, flushing in embarrassment and covering his eyes with the crook of his elbow.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll make up for it.” He grumbles, a hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth.

[weixuldo]

Allow me// ch 4

Vader x Reader

a/n: Hello hello!! sorry for the wait! I will say that were entering more of the “x reader” content that I know most of you are looking forward to heh, but who doesnt love a good slow burn?? hah ty for reading :)

Your boss is not happy about your absence yesterday

warnings: Cannon typical violence, force choking, real choking (and not in the fun way lol), Death, implied death, cursing, anxiety

_____________________

“You never arrived at your posted station yesterday officer y/n, so where in the galaxy were you?!” your red faced manager shouted at you as he dabbed at the sweat forming above his bushy brow. 

“I was pulled aside to complete-” 

“I don’t give a fuck about who asked for your assistance, you report to me. And unfortunately your task was not completed yesterday so who do you think got chewed out? Me!” he huffed, not allowing you to finish your sentence. This was causing a bit of a scene in the semi-public hallway.  

If he weren't always like this, a passerby might think he was going to go into cardiac arrest. 

“Sir, I am truly sorry, but when Darth Vader himself asks for your assistance, you can't really deny him,” you tried to explain calmly.

The winded man in front of you let out a gargantuan laugh, “You're tellin’ me… Darth Vader? The most revered Sith lord in the galaxy… asked for your help?! Hah! You gotta be outta your mind little girl”.

“It is true sir, I didn’t get a chance to tell you after I finished because It was late and our wing was closed”.

“Oh yea, I'm sure you did get back pretty late” he laughed.

“Pardon?”

“We all hear what the troopers say about you little miss, surprised you didn’t take your knee pads yesterday, well with all that dick you’ve been sucking”

Wow, this puny man was really proud of himself, wasn't he. It was honestly disgusting.

“I do not think that is appropriate workplace behavior, sir” you tried to remain as cordial as possible; with basically the whole executor aiming for the target on your back, you felt like you had to be on your very best behavior all the time. 

“Yea, well in my department, I make the rules and since you carelessly neglected your duties yesterday, I’m giving you the highly acclaimed task of cleaning the restrooms in the communal sector, and once you're done with that I think I’ll give you a task all the way in the bridge” the man smiled a toothy grin before insisting time was “of the essence”.

The cool bathroom floor made you shiver as your knees hit the tile, you went through so much schooling and apprenticeships to do ….this. 

Wonderful.

To make it even better you had to keep the door open because the cleaning chemicals needed to be aired out or else they would be too strong; that gave your whole department the lovely view of your ass bent over the toilets, scrubbing away the grime.

It was humiliating, but what were you going to do? Defy your manager and possibly lose your job? No.

It was bad enough that everyone here seemed to hate you, why would you lose a decent paying job too?

You sighed as you heard some of your co-workers snickering;

“I bet that tile is uncomfortable”

“I wouldn't worry about it, she’s probably used to being on her knees hah!”

Finally, you reached the last stall and you were getting high off of the fumes of the cleaning materials. You felt gross and you were getting a headache, your boss didn’t even give you the health regulated mask to use as you worked with the chemicals. 

You were gathering up the cleaning bottles and rags when you heard the bustling of your office grow silent. That wasn’t normal, usually there were at least a few yappy voices gossiping about some dumb drama within the department. 

You were inclined to peek around the doorway of the bathroom, but you decided not to do anything that could get you yelled at…again.

Suddenly you heard a hushed voice, “He’s coming”.

At that, your senses heightened. Could it be?

Him. 

You had no reason to be excited for his arrival, after all it's not like you were in a fantasy story where he would whisk you away and make you his-

The familiar sound of the steel door sliding to the side filled the bay and in came those heavy boot steps, patterned breathing, and demanding aura. 

Darth Vader was here. 

“My Lord, how may I be of assistance” your boss bowed at the dark figure before him; his face finally cooled down from the bright red it was when he yelled at you earlier.

“I need to speak with one of your mechanics” the Sith spoke, surveying the room. 

“Yes, of course! We can get you someone right awa-’

“You misunderstand, General. I need one specific mechanic” Vader corrected.

“Oh! My apologies, who may you be in search of?” Your boss recovered his mistake, though you could see the redness creeping up the back of his neck again.

“F/N L/N.”

Did you mess up your details yesterday? 

You felt less worried for your safety then you once did because you had shared a few one-on-one moments with the dark lord.

But

His sudden appearance in your wing did confuse you. 

You peeked around the bathroom door’s opening and saw your boss nervously glancing at the bathroom door.

“Ohh, um, of course My lord…. Though might I add, if some repair was done incorrectly I apologize on behalf of the mechanic’s branch… she tends to do faulty work– and we will deal with her accordingl-”

“Quite the contrary, general.”

The-now- red faced man blinked in surprise at the Sith’s words. 

“M-My Lord?” 

He stole another glance back to where you were. 

“What is in the bathroom that is so interesting that you cannot focus on our conversation?” The cloaked figure demanded as he made his way over to where you were. 

Quickly you scurried away from the entrance and went back to cleaning on the other end of the facility; You'd rather not be caught actively eavesdropping.

The Sith stomped into the bathroom with a determination that gave you butterflies. His helmet turned towards you before he commanded you to rise.

Oh… maybe he was frustrated with you.

Your excitement turned into uncertainty as you followed the man out of the restroom.

“Leave the bucket” he added, talking about the pail with all of the cleaning supplies and rags. 

You stepped out of the chemical filled bathroom and inhaled a deep breath of clean air; as you followed the flowing cape of the man in front of you, everyone’s eyes were on you. 

Vader suddenly stopped, causing you to almost run straight into his broad shoulders. 

“Would you care to explain why a mechanic of the empire was wasting time sanitizing the restroom facilities and not a cleaning droid?”

“Well, My Lord, she had not arrived at her posted work station yesterday, so we thought it best to punish her accordingly” Your boss replied with a nervous toothy grin. 

“Who approved that method, General?”

“Well- Umm” the shorter man stammered.

“Because I see no advantages to this situation. More work is delayed and the cleaning is less efficient”

Damn, he really just implied you didn’t know how to clean a toilet.

“Yes, Of course My Lord, My apologies… it will not happen again” Your boss profusely apologized.

“Very well. I am not pleased when workers take their own liberties when abridging protocol on MY ship” The Sith proclaimed irritably. 

The sleazy man cowered and stepped aside, allowing the cloaked Sith passage.

“Y/N, you are to come with me” Vader spoke, without turning to look at you.

Your whole body felt tingly as you walked behind him (and not in the fun tingly way…. More like dread). You weren’t used to him taking a demanding tone with you. 

You followed him out and his squadron followed closely behind you; the hallway was silent except for the shuffle of the trooper’s boots and the man’s breathing. What had you gotten yourself into?

Only around halfway down the hallway the man in front of you suddenly stopped, prompting you to halt abruptly behind him. You were so close that his cape brushed the tip of your nose before you took a few steps back. 

Vader slowly turned his head to the side as if he were sensing something. Was he feeling your fear?

The profile of his mask seemed more and more ominous with every second. 

You were about to ask him what was the matter, but before you could he walked past you back towards where you both just were. 

Were you supposed to follow him? 

He had already entered the room when you caught up with him. You weren't sure what he was doing, but you sure didn’t expect to see him choking your boss in the middle of the room.

The smaller man had no chance as the dark giant held him firmly in his gloved hand. It was almost sad how much your boss was struggling; he kicked his feet and clawed at Vader’s iron fist. 

“Would you care to repeat what you just said, general?” Vader questioned.

All the man could muster was broken chokes and gasps as his face turned bluer by the second.

“First you think you can change protocol and then you have the audacity to insinuate my business with one of your mechanics” he scoffed before dropping the man from his grasp. 

He fell hard with a thud and gasped for air.

Vader straightened his form and took a look around the room at all of the terrified workers.

“Do not be so ignorant as to think I do not hear your childish gossip on my own ship.”

Suddenly you realized what this was all about…

the rumors. 

Of course a mighty sith lord wouldn’t want to be talked about behind their back, especially if people were insinuating they were getting their rocks off, but there was a certain double standard among the men of the galaxy. It was seen as something to be proud of when a man would bed many women or have “sex slaves” (for lack of better terms). 

You really didn’t understand why he was so heated… was it because it was you?

A sudden wave of nausea washed over you; was he only disgusted because they were pairing him with you? Did he think you were that embarrassing to be associated with? 

Vader turned his attention back to the man on the ground.

“Pathetic” he huffed before turning back to the gallery of shocked workers.

“Let him be an example for you all” 

In a swift motion he turned his clench fist and the man’s neck snapped with a sickening crack.

Your eyes widened and you heard others gasp; you had only ever heard of the Sith’s capability, never seen it.

Vader turned on his heel and promptly left the room, strutting down the hall quicker than he was before; you were frozen for a moment, but then you hurried after the Sith. Hopefully what he needed you for would be something less… deadly. 

___________________________

The room was freezing and the fabric of your uniform was not doing much to help with the cold.

After the ordeal at your workplace, Vader brought you to a room that you had not previously seen. In keeping with the rest of the ship, the room was the rich obsidian that you grew accustomed to. There was a large seat in front of the window that beautifully displayed the vast view of space. 

Currently you were seated on a couch that was in front of the chair; much to your surprise it was a pretty comfy one.

None of the troopers entered the room with you and the Sith, so you worried this was it. You were going to die. 

He asked you to take a seat but then disappeared into another connecting room.

In his absence, you recalled all of your interactions with him, trying to figure out what grounds he had to kill you? Nothing you had done was out of line, it was more the mistakes of those around you… but what were you going to do, protest the Sith’s plans? 

You became sad when you reminisced on your feelings for the man… What a fool you were. You really thought that the cold and stoic man liked you. You thought you were connecting with him- and he even allowed you to drop formalities around him-

What went wrong?

You were too naiive, that’s what was wrong. 

Your nerves began to settle a bit when he hadn’t returned, it had been around two hours by now. Whether he wanted to play a cruel waiting game or not was becoming more and more irrelevant to you. 

You were sure your fate was sealed, so what was a few more hours? Plus you had a very emotionally taxing day and your lack of sleep was catching up with you. 

This couch was feeling more and more appealing and your eyelids were getting heavier and heavier…

Maybe a little nap wouldn’t hurt, you would just make sure to set an alarm on your watch for you to wake up. 

yeah… just a quick-

***

a/n: alrightyyy thank you for reading and if you guys have any questions about the pacing of this story or enigma, dont hesitate to shoot me an ask! Love you all :)

taglist: @vadersassistant @sxoulohvn @khaleesihavilliard @kashasenpai @darling-murdock @beautifulbearpolice @salvatoresister1 @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @blueninjablade3 @jujuba096 @missmannequin @jellydodger @mirastark @wyvernthekriger @duckyhowls @monada43 @lauriidoesstuff @vienettacream @ray-rook @itswhatever06

[catofoldstones]

The thing is I probably wouldn't hate Rhaegar as much as I do if he wasn't glorified by the fandom and to a lesser extent in the canon too. How do you expect me to read Elia being raped and killed, Aegon's skull being crushed and Rhaenys hiding under her father's bed only to be stabbed 50 times and not blame the man who was off galivanting with a teenage girl in his wife's home while abandoning his wife and children to his lunatic racist father!? In a war HE started!! The people responsible for their deaths were Gregor, Amory Lorch, Tywin, Aerys, and Robert yes but their protection was Rhaegar's responsibility. The very existence of Elia and her children ensures Rhaegar/Lyanna can never be anything positive, whether it was consensual or not. Because whatever his dynamic with Lyanna, his treatment of his wife and children stays the same. There is no need for confirmation that Lyanna was a victim to hate him, he is a piece of shit in either cases. [Not to mention here, his treatment of Lyanna is also highly problematic even if we go by it being consensual].

The very existence of Elia and her children ensures Rhaegar/Lyanna can never be anything positive, whether it was consensual or not. Because whatever his dynamic with Lyanna, his treatment of his wife and children stays the same.

YEP!

The problem with this fandom is that they will always find a woman to blame for a man’s mistakes. This becomes “Rhaegar was not wrong 🥺 why did Elia expect him to act like her husband when he was her husband. the marriage was arranged!!!🥺” as if till then no marriages had been arranged amongst Westerosi noblefolk with the expectation that the obligations and rights and duties that come with the marriage will be honoured by the both parties. Nope. That’s just not Westeros at all.

The moment you say Rhaegar was obligated to protect his wife and children because that’s his duty as a lord husband and lord father, people will jump on you claiming that you’re upholding these patriarchal, regressive standards. Don’t you know Elia should’ve girlbossed and picked up a sword and killed the Mountain to give the reader independent girl satisfaction? How dare she be a literary vehicle to show the systemic disenfranchisement of women, even women who come from powerful backgrounds, in a feudal society and draw attention to the fact that it it’s still happening to women all around the world. How dare she not be a girlboss wet dream to satisfy our own fixed ideas and to assuage our insecurities?

And then they do try and turn her into this girlboss who was a-okay with her husband going out and getting himself a girl to become a broodmare to get another child on because “that gives Elia agency”, which is so fucking racist and straight up misogynistic towards both Elia and Lyanna, i cannot even begin to tell you. Whatever Rhaegar’s dynamic was with Lyanna, whether he married her or not, can never be consensual because Lyanna was an impressionable 14 year old child who wanted some agency and reprieve from a suffocating, oppressive society and Rhaegar was an adult, married man with two children and a kingdom to take care of who kidnapped the said child by promising her said agency. What more words do I have to use now to that Rhaegar is unequivocally at fault here. He’s the executor of his children’s death, his wife’s rape and murder, the plunging of a kingdom into war, and his family’s tragedy for a generation at least. Rhaegar is. at. fault.

I genuinely don’t know how people take the blame from a man and throw it at the women he wronged. Oh wait, I do. It’s unchecked misogyny 🙄

[trickphotography2]

Oh man, I'm so fucking happy right now. My dad just got his 100% service connect (SC) with the VA!

For those who read D-Day, I actually used my dad's cancer story for Darlin's dad. Dad was a jet engine mechanic with the Air Force for 26 years and was exposed to jet fuel all day, every day. And he was trapped in a hanger when the fire suppressant system went off, and inhaled all of that shit. I have been on his case to get his disability re-evaluated since he separated and only got 10% for asthma, and he was worried about losing it if he went through the evaluation process again because his asthma has improved.

Dad was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma in 2016. Thankfully, surgery and chemo went really well (he literally walked marathons during his infusions because he was bored), and he's been in remission for years. Earlier this year, there was a scare that my parents didn't tell us about until Mom visited last month. Ever since that diagnosis, I told my dad that he needed to get his VA SC looked at because jet fuel has been linked with that form of cancer, and the Toxic Exposure Act meant he could apply. He never wanted to do it, but I guess earlier this year he told my mom he was ready to do it. So he's been going to doctor's appointments for months and submitted his claim 2 months ago. Come to find out, my dad's been keeping quite a bit of stuff to himself about his military service and experiences he had, and I wish he would have gone for PTSD because he would have qualified.

While the monthly check is nice, I'm just relieved that they have their health insurance sorted out for when they retire in a couple years.

It's kinda satisfying when your parents FINALLY listen to you.

(Not as fun was finding out that I'm the executor of their estate, but that's a story for a different day and not something I'm gonna think of for a long ass time).

[varl-the-sloth]

A Scarlet Slaughter

An exhausted and wounded soldier draped in red beheld his greatest nightmare, a terrible mockery of life. Amidst a field of corpses, the lone Death Knight stood; its once black armor now stained with the blood of his fellow soldier. It moved slowly towards him, a distinct lack of haste in its approach. A stillness hung in the air as it loomed over him with a gore-caked runeblade in its clawed hand, with only the din of rainfall and distant battle to punctuate the night. He could see no discernable face upon the Death Knight's visage, only the perpetually-grinning sight of a skull staring blankly back. "You monster," he had managed to say between pained breaths, "I'll kill you!"

He spit at the skull-faced Death Knight, though it was difficult to tell if he had hit his mark. The Knight did not deign to respond and the rain quickly washed any signs of spittle away.

"Strike me," it finally spoke.

If ever there was a chance, that was it. The Scarlet poised his blade to strike at the heart of the unholy creature and lunged, but his blade failed to pierce armor and glanced harmlessly to the side. "Again," the Knight demanded.

Another strike of the sword aimed at the Knight's shoulder. The man's whole arm rattled violently as his blade bounced right off.

"Kill me. I am waiting," it spoke once more.

The Scarlet soldier wailed on the Death Knight with his blade. Blow after blow, every strike of the sword harmlessly rung off of its wretched saronite armor with nary a scratch. With the last of his strength wasted, the soldier dropped his sword to the ground with a hollow clatter. It was hopeless. He could never fell the undead.

"How droll, but now you know the futility of your faith. You will die knowing the Light has failed you, " the Death Knight spoke flatly as it reached for the Scarlet's throat and lifted him off the ground. The soldier choked as his windpipe was slowly crushed under the force of the undead's grip. He gagged and tried to yell out, but he could not find his voice. With a sickening snap, his head lulled to the side and the whole of his body fell limp. The Death Knight released the fresh corpse and it awkwardly collapsed to the ground.

"No way. Varl? Varl! That's you, isn't it?" a gravely-sounding voice suddenly called over the sound of the rainfall, followed soon after a howling cackle.

"Oh, fuck me," Varl grumbled to himself.

A worgen, heavily scarred and worn from an age of bad ideas, stepped into view. He wore dark robes suited for combat and in his wake followed a small horde of demons. He looked around at the scene of carnage before addressing the Death Knight again, "Phew, boy. You really did a number on these guys." The Death Knight turned to face his brother, making his disdain known as he spoke, "...Mian. How good it is to see you." Mian nodded. Whatever vitriol Varl's voice conveyed went completely ignored. "Yeah, man! I thought I'd see you around since I heard the Forsaken were going to lend a hand. It's been a while, always so busy these days with 'Forsaken business', right?" the worgen said, leaning forward to jab Varl with a cheeky elbow.

Before Varl could answer, "Forsaken business" came to him. A rail thin undead, wearing leather armor adorned with the crest of Lordaeron, climbed down from a nearby rooftop and stood before Varl to salute. "Executor! I am ready to report," she proclaimed.

"Good. I will hear it, Deathstalker," Varl responded, holding a hand up to Mian for him to keep quiet during the report. Mian glanced between Varl and the Deathstalker with his maw firmly shut, but his excitement at finally getting to see Varl at work was more than palpable.

The Deathstalker launched into her full report, "Priority targets have been assassinated as per your instructions. We've some wounded, but all will make a full recovery. Scarlet resistance is waning as they are beaten back to their last foothold: the cathedral. Victory is inevitable. Lastly, your abomination reports a complete massacre. What are your orders, Executor?"

"The Deathstalkers are to lend their blades to the battle. Retrieve any wounded allies you may find and bring them to a medic. This is to include the Alliance as well. Do not discriminate. Otherwise, I will feed you to my abomination, am I clear?" Varl issued his commands, "And speaking of Killzone, you may issue them my order to patrol the outskirts of the city and execute any Scarlet stragglers that may attempt to flee. Dismissed, Deathstalker."

The Deathstalker saluted once more before answering with a, "For the Forsaken."

Varl parroted the motto back as the undead ran off to continue her duties, finally turning back to stare at the worgen that had whiled away the time by having some sort of hushed discussion with an imp that had perched on his shoulder.

"Mian. This is hardly your fight, what are you here for?" Varl asked of the warlock.

Mian rubbed the back of neck as the imp hopped off from his shoulder. "Ah, you know," he said vaguely as he turned to look back toward the distant sound of battle, watching a meteor of fel hurtle through the sky and disappear behind the horizon of the cityscape before a loud crash had heralded its landing, "the wife."

If Varl could grimace, he would. The Death Knight rarely feared mortals, but Mian's wife was a terror unlike any other.

"When Sam heard that some Scarlets were squatting in her house, she had some pretty choice words," Mian continued, "so we're kicking 'em out."

"Right. Of course," Varl muttered as he stepped over Scarlet corpses. A rune on his blade began to glow sickly green as he waved a hand over the deceased. The Knight's necromantic powers willed the dead to slowly rise to their feet, groaning and shambling after their new master.

"Also... Killzone? Really? Seems a little on the nose for you, man," Mian prodded with a snide remark.

"It was a name they chose for themself. They insisted upon it," Varl clarified as he gazed upon his newly risen army, "Enough chatter. We wouldn't want to keep Sam waiting."

[ludi-ling]

how do you think remy reacted when he first found out about rogue being caught in terrigen mist and when he realized rogue wasnt in a good place mentally when she was in avengers?

Sorry it took so long to (at least half) respond to this. I needed to wait for the creative inspiration to strike, so to speak. Covid over the holidays is great for sitting round and waiting for your muse to rock up.

I hope you still get to see this anyways, anonymous asker. Merry Christmas. 🎄

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

Next-of-Kin

               Avengers Mansion, dead as a doornail, quiet as a mouse. Everythin’ packed up and ready to be sold or auctioned off. Anythin’ here worth stealin’? Maybe, probably. Very likely.

               It’s only out of respect for the person I’m here for that I don’t go rootin’ around to find out.

               I turn a box-lined corridor and who should I see but Deadpool, lackadaisically standing guard outside the door I’m supposed to go into.

               “You’re an Avenger?” is the first thing that comes to my mind, and I can’t help but say it.

               At the impromptu greeting, he pushes away from the wall, arms spread.

               “Me? An Avenger? Pfft, naw. Who’s dumb idea would that be, to make me an Avenger?”

               “My thought exactly,” I respond as I draw near.

               “Yeah, well… Stark’s gone bankrupt,” Deadpool shrugs. “Not enough money in the game to make it worth my while.”

               “I hear that.” I glance at all the boxes, ready to be moved out. “How the mighty have fallen. Or somethin’.” I run a hand through my hair, expecting the worst, hoping for the best, wanting this to be over with either way. “Thanks for callin’ me,” I say; but he just waves me off.

               “Don’t thank me. This was Cap’s idea. Said you were on her next-of-kin list. Told me I should call you.”

                ‘Next-o’-kin’? I don’t like the sound’a dat. The past few months all I been doin’ is playin’ sympathetic-ex-boyfriend to whatever the hell she sees herself right now, and this feels like an extension of those duties. If she’s put me down to be the executor of her will, I’m gonna be real pissed.

               “Is, ah… Is Cap in there?” I ask nervously, figuring Wade doesn’t need to know a damn thing about my current relationship with Anna.

               “Don’t worry, Gumboid,” he replies. “The old man said that since you have a warrant out for your arrest, it’s best if he ain’t around if you happen to turn up.”

               Whew. Thank fuck for that. Don’t think I could handle Captain Boy Scout hovering over my shoulder at a moment like this.

               “Thanks,” I say, reaching for the handle. “And by the way. There are at least 5 warrants out on my head.”

               I lean into the door, and I’m just about to open it when he stalls me.

               “Hey, Gambit. While we’re on the topic, you know a guy named Chalmers?”

               I pause. I level him a look.

               “Deadpool, dis ain’t the time for dis kinda shit…”

               “I know.” He grins. At least I think he does behind that mask. “I’m just sayin’. You’re a thief. There’s a fun li’l gig lined up for you, if and when you can squeeze one in-between your ‘next-of-kin’ duties.”

               “G’bye, Wade,” I shoot acerbically at him, and let myself inside.

               I ain’t prepared for what I see on the other side.

               Rogue, lookin’ like shit.

               I shut the door behind me quietly. I let out the breath I’ve been holding in. I walk to her bedside and see just what the Terrigen Mists have done to her.

               “Oh, Anna,” I murmur to myself. “Whatchu gone done to yourself, chere?”

               She can’t hear me, hooked up like she is to all this equipment, in what I can only assume is an induced coma. The fact that she can’t hear or see me is the only reason I’m here. We laid out some ground rules for one another after all. I gave her permission to walk away, and she took it. I’m your home, your harbour, I said to her in one of my rare, earnest moments. You’ll come to me when you know that. But don’t come to me before. Which means – for now – don’t come to me at all.

               I scratch the back of my head awkwardly at the memory. Those words had felt unnecessarily harsh at the time, for both of us – but it had obviously been what she needed to hear. She had never come back to me. Not once. Sure, we’d run into one another, now and then. Traded kind words, smiled. Hugged. Perhaps even flirted now and then. But she’d never come back in the way that mattered, in the way I wanted, or hoped for, or both.

               Y’know, I hear things. I know about Mags. I know about Johnny Storm. Can’t keep things hidden for long wit’ the X-Men. S’like livin’ in some podunk town in the middle of nowhere. Everyone knows everybody, secrets will out. Jubes loves secrets.

               I’m a big boy, but there are some secrets I wish I didn’t haveta hear.

               I dunno how contagious this disease is, but I’m all gloved up, so I reach out and touch her blistered hand. It’s a simple thing, but how many times has she pulled her hand away from mine? How many times have I only been able to touch her like this? Gloves on, skin covered? The moment she gained control of her powers felt like the moment she started to withdraw from me, like she wanted to try to touch everyone and everything that wasn’t me. That smarts. It stings, when we’re both here, and I’m touching her like this.

               I draw up a chair beside her and sit. Again I think about how I’m breaking some sort of rule in being here, this understanding we have, the one I don’t want. The one where I step aside and make way for her to live her life. Where I wait for her to figure out I’m the one she wants.

               Fuck that.

               “I get it, chere,” I murmur into the quiet, half resentful, half helpless. “You want me when you’re on death’s door. You put me down as your next-o’-kin so I turn up by your side when you’re so fucked up you don’t even have to be conscious to know I’m there. You trust me with your life. You just don’t trust me with your love.”

               It’s infuriating. It’s infuriating to know that’s how it is, despite everythin’. I didn’t make no grand sacrifice, voluntarily stepping away from her, for purely altruistic reasons. I did it because I knew she wouldn’t choose me. I knew she’d choose Mags. And I just hadn’t wanted to be there to see it.

               And this is the prize I get. Havin’ the privilege of bein’ with her again when she’s like this.

               I link my fingers with hers, raise her hand to my cheek. Careful our skin doesn’t touch. Conscious of how we’ve both played this game before. Don’t touch!—her perennial warning. Me, pushing the boundaries, so damn hard, all the fuckin’ time. All I ever wanted was this. To feel her warmth.

               “Guess I should be flattered you put me down on the list of people you wan’ around when you’re dead or dying,” I tell her. Am I sounding bitter? Maybe a li’l. “They tellin’ me they’re workin’ on a cure, that Hank and Stark are optimistic, that you’ll pull through. They don’t need to hide it from me though. They’re worried. Real worried.” I slide her a weary smile. “They dunno how often you and I danced dis tango though, do they, chere? You, on death’s door. Me, sittin’ here by your side, willin’ you to wake up, be strong, get better. And you always do.” I laugh softly, squeeze her hand. “Y’know, for someone who’s ‘well-nigh invulnerable’, you don’t half end up in a coma often, mon amour. Why is dat?”

               She don’t answer. She might look like a hot mess right now, but that pretty li’l face of hers don’t even twitch in reply. The soft blip of the heart monitor is the only response I get. I’m used to this. Not gettin’ answers from her. Her, runnin’ away when shit gets real.

               Shit’s real now, chere. They tell me you could die. And if you do, would all’a dat runnin’ been worth it?

               Not dat you’d be alive to care.

               But I’d be. I’d be.

               The harried smile drops from my face. I take her lifeless hand between both of mine. I press my lips to my knuckles, cos I can’t press them against hers.

               “Lissen, chere. Word is, you could die from dis. Too early to tell yet, nobody knows what dis M-Pox thing means. Me, I think you’re too much of a fighter for this to end you. I know you, chere. But if you don’t… if you don’t get past dis… I want you t’know somethin’. I love you. I put a space b’tween us knowin’ I could deal with it because you were out there tryin’ t’be happy. But if you weren’t out there… if the space between us means you ain’t never comin’ back… I don’t think I could live with it. Livin’ in a world wit’out you wouldn’t be worth livin’, chere. I mean it.”

               I pause. As always, no answer.

               Go figure.

               “So you live, girl. Live, so we continue to get that chance we might never take.”

               I gently rest her hand back down by her side. I don’t think there’s anything more I can think of to say. I stand. I give her hand one last squeeze.

               “Love you, Anna Marie,” I say, before I leave.

               I’m surprised to see Deadpool still standing sentry outside the door.

               “You still out here?” I ask.

               “Hey, Cap said I should keep a look out for her while you were here. I hear things about you, y’know, Gambit. I know all about your weird kinks!”

               I raise an irritated eyebrow at him. Why the hell Cap’s lettin’ him run wit’ de Avengers is beyond me.

               “Yeah, well, takin’ advantage of my comatose ex-girlfriend ain’t one of ‘em.”

               I turn to leave.

               “You goin’ already?” Wade asks.

               “Yeah. She looks stable. I’m trustin’ Stark and Hank will take care o’her better than I could. Just make sure you call me again, if things look bad.”

               “And if they look good?”

               I stop, think about it.

               “Yeah. Lemme know. Just don’t expect me to rock up again. She won’t appreciate it if she wakes up and finds me there.”

               “Huh. She wants you there when she’s about to kick the bucket, but not when everythin’s all fairy dust and unicorn farts. Sounds like my kinda woman.”

               Ugh. I’m outta here.

               “G’bye, Wade!” I nearly holler at him.

               I’m halfway down the hallway when I think of something. I halt, spin round.

               “By the way. That Chalmers job?”

               “Yeah?”

               I grin.

               “Deal me in.”

-END-

[cuprohastes]

The use of (Super) weapons

By the time they breached the core, there weren't many of them left. And for some of them, there wasn't much left individually.

The men thought they'd been lucky. Any more of a delay and the rumour was that the commander was going to give the injured a field promotion to KIA, as the euphemism went.

But despite the ancient guardian systems: The traps and mechanisms that had been designed so that the survivors of the builders could pass on access to their descendants via a priesthood, the automatons, weapons exhausted, reaching out with talons like scythes, the pitfalls and doors hidden in the walls, they'd done it.

The commander sent the last priest on ahead, the old man's mumbled recollections of the Steps Of The Inheritors had gotten them this far, and the old man carefully navigated to the centre of the room.

The old man stopped at the Altar, and turned, voice hoarse.

"You slew my people to claim this holy treasure but now it is I wh-" the old man got out before the Commander shot him in the face.

"Predicatable." the commander said and hopscotched over the trap tiles, kicking the old priest into the tranch that ranged the Altar.

"Now let us see what the Ancients have left for us?" he said with satisfaction and deftly twisted the lock to open the altar.

It unflowered silently, movements smooth unlike the lurching armoured guardians, it's surface unmarred by time. A pedestal rose with the seated human form of the Executor of The Will.

The being opened it's eyes and looked at the commander.

"Fuck off." it said succinctly and vanished back into the altar.

After pitching a minor fit and executing the injured anyway, the commander and the remaining Fathian Guards ringed the alter with anything that might prevent it from closing and unfastened the lock.

The executor once more rose into place, wound up and then smartly kicked the commander in the nuts.

"I told you to fuck off." it said.

The third time, the commander stayed far enough back.

"I have summoned you. I have the authorisation!" he said.

"Oh. Well, that's nice." said the Executor and vanished back into the later, snapping two crowbars and taking the hand off of one of the soldiers who reached into grab the being.

The fourth time, the commander yelled "Auth code Alpha one seven amber nine one four victor!" as fast as he could.

"OK then," the executor said. "What's on your mind?"

The Commander shot his two remaining men. "I am declaring myself the Emperor of the Fathian Realm. With you beside me we will take the throne, crush all dissent and a new golden age will rise, where I will rule all..."

"mm. No." said the Executor.

"... i , what?" the Commander (Now nominally Emperor) said, dumbfounded. "I have the command codes!"

"This is an ultimate weapon, and I am an ultimate safety catch." the Executor said. "And you seem, pardon my Fathian, to be a complete shit."

"You can't talk to me that way!"

"Why not? Oh wait, were you planning to shoot me and y'know, permanently disable the Ultimate Weapon?" the Executor asked casually, "Maybe threaten to shoot..." it looked around and then made a show of looking into the trench where the old priest had fallen. "... never mind, you already did. Whelp, looks like you're out of leverage!"

"But... I have the command code." the Commander said, waving his gun vaguely.

"Sure but that didn't work out the first time around. How do you think the people out there ended up living in the ruins of their own civilisation? They built me, pointed me at the entire rest of the world and told me to do my thing. And since ethically the best possible course was to not kill eight and a half billion people, that's what I did."

"But... you're a weapon. The weapon."

"No I'm the user interface."

"You can't refuse to fire!"

"Historically it would be safe to say that's what I am known for."

"... there have to be manual controls."

"Oh sure. They're in a hermetically sealed doom just over there." the Executo said. A door opened, lights coming on, showing a pristine clean room airlock.

"The instructions are about two and a half thousand years out date, language-wise but you seem to speak it fine. Shouldn't take you more than a couple of days to learn." the Executor said cheerfully.

The Commander squinted at the suddenly compliant Executor then spun about, and marched to the airlock. He checked it very carefully, and entered the control room, spinning to check for traps. They crossed to where the instructions were engraved on titanium sheets, and looked back through the glass door, smirking and pulling gloves on in case of poison.

The executor mimed pressing buttons and then a big kaboom.

The commander checked under the seats and consoles for booby traps and then started reading.

The Executor watched the Commander... by the fourth page they'd slumped over sleepily, swaying. They sat and gently tipped over, asleep.

The executor watched with crystal eyes until the Commander had stopped breathing. "Oh well. I guess a high nitrogen atmosphere will do that," the executor said to themself, as they started up the hidden factory below the citadel to create scavenger units, repair drones and cleaning bots. They took a last look around and climbed back into the altar.

[gauntsghostsfieldguide]

Anarch- Part 21 and last

TWENTY-TWO: THE VICTORY

"‘When were you hit?’ asked Mabbon. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Rawne. ‘You’re hit?’ asked Varl. ‘I said it doesn’t matter,’ said Rawne." I think you'll find it very much does, Rawne. You idiot.

"‘Oh feth, Eli,’ said Varl." I know Rawne's in a bad way when Varl says that and he doesn't snap at him.

"‘Now I’ve met the only fething pacifist objector in this whole fething galaxy.’" Technically not, since he met Dorden a long time ago. Though Mabbon's the only one now that Dorden's dead.

"He felt himself slipping into the dark place he’d spent his life fighting to avoid." ;_;

"The launcher tube had been buckled when the blast slammed it against the wall. He’d noticed that the moment he’d picked it up." Aww, darn.

Poor Mabbon. He may be done with war, but he lives in the world of always war.

"‘A curse,’ said Mabbon. ‘It let me see the truth. The deranged hell of the immaterium and those gods which dwell within it. I saw them all. I saw myself. I saw how he had changed me. I saw what he had made me. It was enough. I turned my back on war forever.'" Interesting, that he saw how Chaos works and responded by turning away from it, instead of going insane or joining closer.

"‘I never asked for it,’ said Mabbon. He spat yellow blood, his eyes neon fire. ‘I never wanted it. But he blessed me anyway.’" And he turned it on Sek as much as he could.

EPILOGUES: ONE WEEK LATER

There's now eight stones in Imperial custody, four mostly burned. That's more than five, but less than the ten that would indicate two sets (one fake). It's gonna show up again.

"But something either side could use." So they're gonna try and use it. So much for Mabbon figuring the Imperium wouldn't figure it out.

"‘I didn’t mean to disturb you,’ Criid said, wiping her eyes. ‘This is just the first chance I’ve had to come down here. To see.'" ;_;

"‘They weren’t tricks to me,’" D: ;_;

I hate this whole plotline so much, tbh. Retconning the two kids in the regiment, the hope of the future, into a Chaos sleeper weapon is just... too grimdark. Too "haha, you thought things could look up?"

"It should be easier to issue commendations now the Tanith First is the formal escort brigade of the Lord Executor." Of course they are. They won't be parted from Gaunt, if he can help it.

"It may get very ceremonial from now on." Until the next book, anyway. Ceremonial's too boring for a plot.

"He took off his cap, stepped forwards, and kissed her cheek. She stayed very still." Fucking finally. Please no more love triangles.

"But just to be on the safe side, you know, he should try to be the best fething person he can possibly be for the rest of his born days. See? Just to hedge his bets? In case the absolution didn’t take." Please, Blenner, please take this advice. Don't be an asshole anymore.

"‘Yes, that was a mistake,’ said Rawne. ‘It didn’t hurt when I was unconscious.'" And now he's feeling better, because he's instantly dry and sarcastic.

"‘We lost a lot. It’s hard to take in.’ ‘It always is,’ said Rawne." Good old unexpectedly sincere Rawne.

"‘I was holding this for you,’ Bonin said, matter-of-factly. ‘That cot’s free, so you can have that.’" Oh, Bonin, so deadpan about Mkoll showing back up. And Milo.

"The boy was never coming back" That's what you think. He's already back, he just hasn't seen you yet.

[dreamerchildunofficial]

Expedition to the Underground I

(6:30am)

(A soft yellow light illuminates the grass below the camera. The view shakes a little before it's tilted upward, revealing the source of the light to be a small, glowing glass ball floating a few feet above the ground. Looking past it, the top of Mt. Ebott is also illuminated by this light against the dark backdrop of the eternally October sky.)

(The view continues to shake as someone off screen mutters inaudibly under their breath before the camera starts to dive back toward the ground.)

Frisk: Fuck!

(A hand catches it before it hits the ground, and the camera is raised back up, facing the slowly lightening horizon and the top of the mountain again. After a few more moments of shaking, the view is stilled. Frisk, still off camera, breathes an audible sigh of relief.)

Frisk: Finally.

(A hand reaches out and grabs the orb before the camera starts to move forward as Frisk begins to walk toward the summit, and they stop just as they crest the peak. There is an entrance to a large cavern a bit of a distance away from them with the path into it sloping down at a steep angle into the depths of the mountain. More rocks forming the outside of it stretch further beyond where the eye can see. The camera view turns to look toward the left and right, but there's nothing more than the rocks and grass.)

Frisk: Flowey!

(Their shout carries across the still morning air, but they don't get a response.)

Frisk: Flowey!

(They wait a few moments, but all is still.)

Frisk: Asriel Dreemurr!

(Movement disturbs the earth near the entrance to the cave and rapidly approaches the camera. In a flash, a couple of small rocks get flung toward it, but it moves deftly out of the way before they can make contact.)

(Flowey appears out of the earth with a scowl and crosses his vines.)

Flowey: Would you keep that quiet! What if someone heard you?

Frisk: Is there anyone up here at six o'clock in the Angel damn morning to hear me yell that?

Flowey: Well, no, but you didn't know that!

Frisk: Flowey. It's so early in the morning that most people aren't awake, and almost no one climbs all the way up here anyway.

(Flowey rolls his eyes and eyes the camera directly.)

Flowey: You look ridiculous with that thing on your head.

Frisk: Well I needed to put it somewhere, so I could keep my hands free.

Flowey: I don't see why you need it at all.

Frisk: So that we can record what we find on Tumblr, and the Players can help us remember what we saw? Remember?

Flowey: Yeah, sure, but what makes you trust the Players in the first place? I thought you hated them. And it could be that this is their fault in the first place. Why would they tell you anything helpful?

Frisk: I– I don't hate all of them. The ones I've talked to are pretty kind, and they weren't even the ones who possessed me in the Underground.

Flowey: And how do you know that? Wait, let me guess. They told you they didn't do it, and you just believed them.

Frisk: …

Flowey: Oh my Angel, you are so stupid.

Frisk: They seemed genuine!

Flowey: You need to stop hanging out with Papyrus as much as you do and hang out with Undyne more instead. Having a bit more mistrust would do you some good.

Frisk: And having a bit more trust would do you some good! Besides, Papyrus' method of interacting with people is really effective and leads to a lot more good things happening for everyone. By showing kindness and trust, he's gotten world leaders to listen to him a lot more and be more willing to get things done that would help monsterkind!

Flowey: I think you have done more to make people listen to us than Papyrus ever has by being the ambassador first when you were younger and cooler. I mean, the very first thing you did when you met the Chief Executor for the first time to talk about monster rights, you threatened to pee in his coffee if he didn't start listening to you when he tried to have you, Asgore, and Toriel thrown out of his office, and when he insisted, you actually pulled down your pants and started running for his desk. What happened to that Frisk?

Frisk: Flowey, I was seven! Why would you say that on camera?

Flowey: Because everyone deserves to know how cool you used to be.

Flowey: Also because you used my name that no one else is supposed to know on camera.

Frisk: They're the Players. They already know you're Asriel.

Flowey: Yeah, whatever.

Flowey: By the way, did you give a cover story to Toriel and Sans about where you were going?

Frisk: Yeah, I wrote them a note saying I'm going to study in the library with MK and afterward, I'm hanging out with you, and I don't know when I'm going to be back.

(Flowey snorts.)

Flowey: What if they call MK to confirm that?

Frisk: They won't, but if they did, MK wouldn't rat me out. They sneak out of their house all of the time to go do whatever they want whenever they want, so they get it. I've covered for them before too, no questions asked, and I know they would do the same for me.

Flowey: If you say so.

(Flowey turns and moves a little closer to the entrance to the cave.)

Flowey: What was the other thing we were supposed to look for besides the save points?

Frisk: The Core. Razoolio suggested that something might be wrong with it, and that's what's causing the time loops. And this might also have something to do with Gaster and a December Holiday from a different world disappearing and ending up somewhere called the Void? I'm not entirely sure how that's connected to be honest, if it is at all, but I guess that's something we should keep in mind.

Flowey: I don't see how any of that is connected either. Even if it does have something to do with the Core, Gaster fell in decades ago, and you just said December isn't even from this world. How could any of that be connected?

Frisk: I don't know, but I know it just is! Probably. Along with... shorebirds?

(Flowey turns back to face them and gives them an exasperated look.)

Frisk: Okay, maybe that's not important to what we're doing here right this second, but I remember it is supposed to be important. And I just have a feeling that there could be a connection! And even if there isn't, I think we should keep that on the back burner because we should still try to save Gaster and December too, don't you think?

Flowey: I'm only helping with this because I'm sick of looping. Don't drag me into doing things for people I don't know or barely remember.

(Frisk sighs.)

Frisk: Fine, I'll worry about that, but later.

(The camera starts moving forward, following Flowey as he and Frisk continue walking toward the entrance of the cave.)

Frisk: Razoolio also said that, um, I should also try saving if we do come across a save point. They said they had an idea, but they didn't really elaborate on it.

Flowey: Well, I hope your trusting in random strangers on the internet pays off for you.

Frisk: I think it wi–

(Frisk stops moving suddenly as they fall silent. Flowey stops too and looks back at them with confusion.)

Flowey: Frisk?

Frisk: Do you hear that?

(From within the entrance of the cave, Small Shock plays quietly.)

Flowey: Hear what?

Frisk: The– The music.

Flowey: What music?

Frisk: The music coming from the cave?

(Frisk turns in a circle to look around their immediate vicinity, but all they can see are the same grass, rocks, and clear skies growing steadily lighter with the coming day.)

Flowey: Frisk, there's no music coming from the cave. Are you alright?

Frisk: No! There– There is, Flowey! It's the same music that played when– when I was about to fight Asgore or– or–

(Frisk's breathing quickens, and they look around the area again.)

Frisk: I thought you were going to scout out the area before I got here! That's why you decided to leave before me!

Flowey: Frisk, I did! There's nothing here! And what are you talking about the music that played when you were about to fight Asgore?

Frisk: Weren't you there? You were following me all the way through the Underground multiple times, you have to have heard it before!

Flowey: Yeah, of course I followed you every time you fought Asgore, but there wasn't any music! There wasn't anything to play music from in the room with the Barrier.

Frisk: No, before the– wait. You... You didn't hear the music that just kind of... existed in the atmosphere?

Flowey: ...No?

Frisk: …

Frisk: I think we should go home.

(Flowey rolls his eyes and continues heading for the entrance.)

Flowey: You can go home and be weird if you want, but I'm going to figure out how to stop this mess.

Frisk: No! Flowey, wait–!

(Flowey burrows under the ground at the cave's entrance and disappears.)

(The camera stays trained on the spot where he disappeared for a few moments before Frisk quickly looks around at the mound of rocks on either side of the entrance and making up the cave itself. They run to the side, leave their glowing orb floating in the air beside them, and pick up a couple of medium sized rocks. Then they grab their orb again, and they run into the cave.)

(The music gets louder the further down the path they go, and they have to slow down to keep themself from falling on the steep slope. When they eventually make it to the flat floor of the Underground, the music starts to get quieter again, and they find Flowey a little further inward, waiting for them and smirking.)

Flowey: I knew you had it in you.

Frisk: Flowey, I'm not kidding, we need to go. Right now.

(Flowey frowns.)

Flowey: Jeff Angel, Frisk, I haven't seen you this freaked out in a long time. It's just an empty cave now. You know that.

Frisk: It's– It's– It can't be empty right now. There has to be something here, and– and it's not safe for us to be here.

Flowey: If there is something down here, then aren't we supposed to find it anyway? What if whatever it is you think is down here is what's causing the loops?

Frisk: …

Frisk: Then– then I– I need to find a save point and use it before whatever is down here finds us because I can't– I can't–

Flowey: Okay, how about I give you a minute while I go scout out the next room. Eat something, drink some water, do whatever it is you need to do to calm the hell down.

Frisk: But I don't want you getting hurt!

Flowey: I'll just be in the next room, Jeff Angel! Besides, I'm very capable of defending myself. Just stay here for a minute.

(The camera moves up and down as Frisk nods, and Flowey moves through the doorway leading deeper into the Underground and out of sight.)

(6:55am)

(Frisk takes a few deep breaths. They turn to grab their water bottle from within the side bottle pocket of their backpack, and they open it and take a long drink. After they put it back, they bring their hands up which covers the camera view slightly as they press the heals of their hands to their eyes. After a few minutes, they bring their hands down again and sniffle.)

Frisk: Flowey? Are you okay?

Flowey: Yeah, this room is clear! But you should come look at this.

(Frisk takes another shaky breath before they start moving forward toward the end of the room.)

(As they move forward, Small Shock fades out completely, and a new song, a slowed down and distorted version of Memory, begins to fade in, coming from the room beyond.)

Frisk: What the hell?

(Frisk moves through the doorway and into the hallway leading into the next room. Flowey waves them over and points at the ground right next to the doorway where the last save point Frisk ever used floats a few inches above the ground though it's much different now than it was eight years ago.)

(The save point is glowing much more faintly, and it's sort of blurry, like a layer of static is surrounding it. It flickers erratically like a flame in the wind even though the air is completely still, and as Frisk takes a few hesitant steps toward it, it becomes clear that the music is coming from it.)

Frisk: I... I don't think it's supposed to do that.

Flowey: I don't think so either.

(The camera view gets lower to the ground as Frisk crouches down.)

Frisk: Can... Can you at least hear the music coming from this?

Flowey: There's music coming from it?

(Frisk sighs.)

Frisk: Never mind.

(Their hand reaches out to touch it, but they stop themself just inches away from making contact.)

Frisk: I– I don't...

(They turn to look at Flowey who is looking at them uncertainly.)

Frisk: Do you think I should save here? I'm just... It doesn't look normal, and I'm afraid of messing something up. I haven't done this in years, and honestly, I didn't even think these still existed until time started looping.

(Flowey looks past them and back at the save point.)

Flowey: Yeah, maybe we should find a different save point.

Flowey: It's weird though... The way it's flickering.

(Frisk turns to look back at the save point.)

Flowey: It doesn't look like it has any sort of pattern to it, but it kind of looks like it might be repeating?

(They both stare at the save point in silence. On observing it closer and for a longer period of time, it does look like the save point is flickering a certain way for about a minute and a half, the same length of time for the full song to play, before it pauses for just barely a second, and then it flickers the exact same way as before, repeating the cycle and song over and over again.)

Frisk: Do you think that confirms it that this is what's causing the loops?

Flowey: I think so? It is at least strange. We should still go check out the Core and maybe the other save points too on the way there. You still need to save, and even if this is the cause of it, we still don't know why it's doing it. Maybe the Core or something somewhere near here will have the–

(Flowey goes quiet, and Frisk snaps their head in his direction.)

Frisk: Flowey?

Flowey: Is... is that the song you are hearing coming from it?

(His voice is quiet, and his gaze is far away.)

Frisk: The song that plays from your music box except slower and... weird? Like it's somehow distorted?

(Flowey nods slowly.)

Flowey: Why is...

(He shakes his head and looks down at the ground.)

Flowey: I just remembered... My sibling, back when we were both alive... they used to make fun of me for having that old thing all of the time. They thought it was dumb that I still had it and said it was for babies.

Frisk: Your– your sibling. I think I... No, I know I know them! I think they told me one time that they only made fun of you for it because they were jealous about the fact that it was a gift from your parents that you had since you were a baby. They never actually thought it was dumb.

(Flowey looks back up at Frisk sharply.)

Flowey: Frisk, what the hell. That's not cool.

Frisk: What's not cool?

Flowey: You pretending to know them? They died a century before you came to the Underground.

Frisk: Y– yeah, but they're a ghost now. I... I met them when I first fell. I think?

Flowey: They're not a ghost, Frisk; I watched their soul leave my body as we were dying. They're gone.

Frisk: But they're not! They're...

Frisk: …

Frisk: Oh my Angel, they're missing. How could I have forgotten that?

Flowey: Frisk, stop this, this isn't funny! They can't be missing because they're dead, and you never knew them.

Frisk: Flowey, why would I be joking about this? And more importantly, why do you not know they're alive? Or, well, a ghost.

Flowey: I don't know why you're lying about this, but if they came back and were a ghost, they would have told me!

Frisk: I'm not lying! Look, I– I know–

Frisk: …

Frisk: Chara. Chara is their name. And Chara told me one time that once when they were still new to living with you, and Mom, and Asgore, they had a nightmare so bad that they couldn't sleep for days afterward, and you decided to stay up with them one night. They were really grateful and touched because no one had ever done that for them before and kept them company after a bad dream. And after that night, their nightmares didn't affect them as badly as they did before.

(Flowey's voice is quiet and shaking.)

Flowey: How do you know that?

Frisk: Because Chara told me!

(Flowey raises his voice.)

Flowey: Frisk, just stop it! I don't know how you know that, but you don't know them! You can't know them! They're gone!

(Flowey burrows into the ground and disappears.)

Frisk: Flowey!

(There's no response.)

(Frisk sighs and backs up against the wall before sitting down on the ground.)

Frisk: I wasn't lying though, why didn't he– oh.

Frisk: Shit, I wasn't supposed to tell him that they were around.

(The camera tilts slightly upward as Frisk leans their head against the wall.)

Frisk: Where are they though? Why aren't they with me?

(The air is still and quiet for a while save for Memory playing on repeat from the save point.)

–

(7:15am)

Frisk: They're in the Void too. I remember now, and they disappeared around the time the loops started happening. That's why the loops are probably connected to the Void thing. And the Lurkers...

Frisk: …

Frisk: I need to get them out of there. I need to stop the loops from happening. I need to find Flowey. I need... Fuck!

(Frisk bolts upright and sprints down the hallway, deeper into the Underground.)

Frisk: I need to save! Before anything bad happens, I need to save!

(They enter the next room and slow to a walk, panting slightly. They look around the room, holding the glowing orb out in front of them, and when they see there's nothing in here, they quickly make their way to the hallway connecting this room to Asgore's old throne room. They stop just inside the doorway and try to peer inside.)

(The room is so big and so dark that even with the help of the orb, only the first forty feet into the room are visible. The ground is covered in a thick layer of dirt and fungus, the flowers that once resided in this room long since decayed. Frisk looks to their left by the door and down at the ground, and the second save point is just barely visible. It's so much more faint than the first save point, and there's no music coming from it. It is flickering in the same pattern, however, and the blurry static surrounding it mutes its yellow color almost to nonexistence.)

Frisk: I– I can't use that one either. Shit.

(They start to run again before they stop suddenly and shake their head.)

Frisk: Wait, why am I running? I brought my scooter for a reason.

(They twist to take their backpack off and put it down on the ground. They unzip it, and they pull out a fairly wide, thick piece of metal with some hinges. They place it on the ground and unfold it, snapping all of the parts into place to make it a full sized scooter without wheels. They put their backpack back on, snap their orb into some sort of thin harness on the front center of their handlebars, stand on top of it, and press a button on the handlebars before gripping them tightly. They rise off the ground, the blue glow of the underside of their scooter just visible on the ground in the camera's point of view. They twist the right handle of their scooter a little bit, and they start moving at a brisk pace out of the room.)

(Frisk slows a bit when they exit the throne room to look for the save point outside of it, but it looks just the same as the second one. They shake their head, twist their handle again, and zoom even faster down the hallway toward the Judgment Hall.)

Frisk: Flowey!

(Their call as they fly by goes unanswered.)

(They make it to the end of the Judgment Hall, and once again, the save point that resides there is little more than a slight discoloration of air.)

Frisk: Flowey!

(Their voice echoes down the hallway, but there's no response.)

(Frisk zooms out of the room and pauses just for a moment outside of the elevator that would take them to the entrance back to the Core, but they shake their head before flying down the hallway back toward Asgore's old house.)

Frisk: Flowey!

(There's still no response.)

(Frisk comes to a stop at the foot of the stairs up into the house. They dismount their scooter and drag it with them up the stairs.)

Frisk: Flowey? Are you in here?

(Nothing.)

Frisk: Look, I'm sorry! I– I forgot you didn't know. I forgot Chara told me they didn't want you or anyone to know that they were back. I tried to reason with them a few times to let me at least tell you I think, but I don't remember why they didn't want you to know, and I'm so sorry I didn't tell you before.

(The only response they get is the silence of the dark house.)

(Frisk's breath catches in their throat, and they bring their hands up to their face, temporarily blocking some of the camera's view again as they press their hands against their eyes.)

Frisk: One crisis at a time, Frisk. You have to find a viable save point.

(They take a deep breath before they grab onto their scooter again and take it with them as they make their way out of the house.)

(The save point outside of the house looks just the same as the others, so Frisk mounts their scooter and takes off again, racing through New Home as fast as they can.)

Frisk: I just need to make it to the Core entrance. If the save point there still looks weird, I'm just going to try to save there anyway. And hopefully– hopefully Flowey isn't in trouble. And maybe I'll– I'll find him there.

(They race down the extremely long walkway until they reach the turn, and they whip around it so fast, they almost fall off their scooter. The silence stretches on down the next walkway, eerie and still. The houses and city layout below and beyond this walkway aren't visible anymore because the lights that once lit up the Underground have long since gone out, along with the rocks plugging up the holes in the ceiling here and there.)

(7:50am)

(After a long while, the monotony of seeing only the road ahead of them with the help of their orb is broken by a strange fog gathering in front of them. They slow down uncertainly for a moment before they speed up again and push through. The further they go into it, the thicker it gets until they can barely see a foot in front of them, and then the fog begins to dissipate.)

(Soon the fog is completely gone, and Frisk stops their scooter and looks around and behind them.)

(The fog is no longer there either.)

Frisk: What the hell was that?

(They stare behind them a little longer, and then they get back on their scooter and move away.)

–

(8:00am)

Frisk: Okay, it should not have taken this long, I should be at the Core by now. Right?

(No sooner than they say that, the orb lights up a turn in the path.)

Frisk: Finally!

(They turn down it and speed along for a good distance before they slow down again.)

Frisk: Wait, where's the other turn? I should have gotten to it by now; it wasn't that far of a walk to get to the elevator. Was it?

Frisk: Hey, and wasn't I supposed to pass the other elevator that would take me back to the Judgment Hall again by now?

(They stop for a moment and turn to look behind them. All they see is an empty expanse of road leading back into the darkness.)

Frisk: Whatever, maybe I'm misremembering it.

(They continue forward.)

–

(8:05am)

(Frisk finally makes it through the rest of that walkway, but they skid to a halt and curse loudly when they see where they are.)

(They've stopped right back in front of Asgore's house.)

Frisk: What the fuck? How am I back here again?!

(They dismount their scooter, stomp over to the left wall, and lean it against it. They take their orb back out of its harness, and walk briskly back into the house.)

(It's just the same as before. Empty, dark, and quiet.)

(Frisk inhales deeply as if they're about to shout again, but they pause and let their breath out quietly.)

(Down the hall toward the bedrooms, they can hear crying.)

(Frisk quietly makes their way down the hall and sees that the door to Chara and Asriel's old room is slightly ajar, and the crying is coming from inside. They push the door open slightly and peer into the room.)

Frisk: Flowey?

(Flowey looks up at them from the foot of Chara's old bed, and he scowls.)

Flowey: Go away, Frisk! I don't want to talk to you!

(Frisk takes the tiniest step back.)

Frisk: I– I'm so sorry, Flowey, honest. I remember what happened now, and Chara... I tried to convince them to let me tell you or for them to tell you themself, but they didn't think they deserved for you to know them anymore, and they were too afraid of hurting you again.

(Flowey gives a short, deep, and guttural laugh, and his eyes go dark. Frisk takes another small step backward.)

Flowey: They were too afraid of hurting me again? That's the excuse you're going to give me?

(His voice is deeper and scratchier than normal, and the camera tilts slightly as Frisk winces.)

Frisk: W– well, more specifically, they knew they didn't treat you the best when you were both alive, but you still thought the world of them, and they didn't feel like they deserved for you to think of them so highly. And they also didn't want to be the same kind of person to you anymore. So I guess that meant... they didn't want to be anything to you anymore at all. They– they just wanted for you to move on.

(Flowey grows some longer vines to raise himself higher on the bed.)

Flowey: They were my best friend!

(His shout echoes throughout the entire house.)

Flowey: How am I supposed to move on from that? Why do they get to make the decision about whether or not they get to be anything to me anymore? That should have been my decision! Mine!

Frisk: I tried to reason with them, Flowey, I swear! But I couldn't get through to them!

Flowey: So you lied. You lied to me. You lied to everyone. And didn't you just tell me an hour and a half ago that I needed to trust people more?

Frisk: …

Flowey: Exactly.

(Flowey crosses his vines and turns his back to them.)

Flowey: Is there anything else you've been lying about that I should know about? Like, where is Chara, or maybe even why the loops are happening in the first place? Because who knows what you actually do or don't know!

Frisk: I– I don't know why the loops are happening, and... I heard that... that Chara is stuck in the Void too. With Gaster and December.

(Flowey snorts but doesn't say anything else.)

(Frisk takes a shaky breath and walks into the room, and they sit down on Asriel's bed, the old springs creaking and groaning under their weight.)

Frisk: I didn't remember that they were stuck in the Void until about an hour ago? And I found that out from the Players on tumblr. At least, they're convinced that they're in contact with our Chara. Like I said, tumblr is somehow connected to a lot of different universes and timelines. I don't know how they got there, and I– I can't talk to them. Razoolio tried to link their page for me, but it just glitched out on my phone. And they might have– have tried to reach me once I think. But I couldn't see who actually sent in that one ask, and it was just gibberish.

Frisk: Um... But I'm pretty sure that they disappeared around the time that the first loop happened, and every time the loop resets, I forget about them again, so they might be connected to it?

Flowey: …

Flowey: Do you happen to remember anything else about what happened before the loops started?

(He doesn't turn to look at them, and his words are like venom.)

(Frisk looks down at the ground.)

Frisk: …

Frisk: We got into a fight.

Flowey: Do you know what about?

Frisk: …

Frisk: No.

Flowey: Is that the truth?

Frisk: …

(Flowey sighs.)

Flowey: Let me guess, they swore you to secrecy on that too.

Frisk: Kind of, but not really. I... I just don't want to talk about it. Not right now. It's– it's not relevant.

Flowey: How do you know it's not relevant?

Frisk: Because it's just not!

Flowey: Okay, then how do I know it's not relevant? Is it some other big secret you're keeping?

Frisk: …

Frisk: Something weird happened when I tried to get to the elevator that goes down to Core. The save point just outside of that elevator was the next one I was going to check out because all of the other save points I've seen are weird and faded too, but not as weird as the first one at least. But as I was going down the walkway, I ran into some weird fog, and then a long time after that, I somehow got turned around and ended up back here again.

Frisk: I want to try and save at the save point outside, but then I think we should figure out what happened and what the fog stuff was.

Flowey: So you're just going to ignore my question?

Frisk: …

Frisk: We only have so much daylight, Flowey.

(Their voice is quiet, and Flowey sighs.)

Flowey: Fine. Let's get this over with, so that I don't have to talk to you or even look at you anymore.

(Flowey's voice is back to normal, and Frisk looks up to see his face is normal again too though he's clearly still pissed off. He hops off the bed and moves out of the room, and Frisk follows suit.)

(8:25am)

(Frisk and Flowey make it back out front of Asgore's house, and Flowey moves to hang back a little ways away from the save point while Frisk places their orb to hover in the air near it. They move to crouch down next to the save point, and they look up at Flowey uncertainly.)

(Flowey moves his vines in a go ahead motion.)

(Frisk takes a deep breath, and they slowly stretch their hand toward the save point. They pass their had through it and make a fist.)

(Then they gasp in shock and panic as they rip their hand away from it, falling backward in the process.)

Frisk: Shit, what the fuck?!

(They groan and bring their hands up, covering the camera completely for a moment before they move their hands away, still jostling the camera a bit as they try to press their hands against their forehead.)

Flowey: Frisk? What happened?

(Frisk takes a few deep breaths before they respond.)

Frisk: It was so weird, I– Well, first of all, it shocked me, which it has never done before, but the shock wasn't that bad. It mostly just surprised me. But then I got like... sensory overload? I just got really really dizzy and faint, and it was like my brain was being overloaded with information. I– I can't tell what information, but it was just a lot and really really intense.

Frisk: The even weirder thing though... usually when I use a save point, it almost feels like... a question is being asked? Like, I'm making some sort of connection with something, and that something feels like the embodiment of a question, and then if I feel like, a sort of positive feeling, I know I saved, but if I feel a kind of negative feeling, I know I didn't.

Frisk: But with this... even though I felt like I was being overloaded with information, I didn't feel any sort of connection at all! I– I couldn't reach anything. At least, not anything I could control.

Flowey: That is strange.

(Frisk looks back over at him, and his frown looks just a touch shy from unbothered.)

Flowey: Do you want to try to save at any other save point? Or are we just going to go try and find the fog cloud or whatever?

(Frisk sighs.)

Frisk: Well, I definitely don't want to experience that again.

Frisk: But I guess... Maybe it would be worth it to try and save at the first save point. The one with the music. Because that one is different from all of the others, so maybe something new will happen.

Flowey: Alright. Are we going there now, or back to Core?

Frisk: I know it would make more sense to try and reach the Core now since we'd be closer to it now than if we went back to the entrance first, but I think I should try to give saving another shot before we find ourselves in a situation we can't get out of.

Flowey: There's also the elevator by the Judgment Hall. Maybe if we go in the elevator and then back track, we'll run into the fog again, but on the side where we can still keep going to the Core when we need to.

Frisk: That's a good point.

(Frisk stands up and grabs their orb before walking over to their scooter. They snap the orb back in its harness, and then they look at Flowey.)

Frisk: I uh, brought a small basket I could attach to the scooter, so you can catch a ride too if you want.

(Flowey gives them a withering look.)

Flowey: I'd rather die.

(He burrows back under the ground and disappears again.)

(Frisk looks down at the ground and sighs. They take a few moments to take a few shaky breaths before they look up at the ceiling and shake their head slightly. Then they drag their scooter into the house and down the stairs before they mount it and zoom back toward the entrance to the Underground.)

–

(8:50am)

(Frisk slows to a stop in the room with the last save point. Memory is still playing in the same distorted and glitched fashion as it was before, and the save point's muted glow looks so much brighter and more defined compared to the save points elsewhere.)

(Frisk dismounts their scooter and leans it against the wall before they take out the orb and suspend it in the air again. They go over and sit down next to the save point, and they wait in silence.)

(A few minutes later, Flowey pops up out of the ground by the scooter, panting slightly. He shoots another glare at Frisk, but this time it has less heat in it.)

Flowey: Do you... happen to... have an extra... water bottle?

(Frisk nods and takes their backpack off, setting it in their lap. They dig through it until they find a miniature water bottle, complete with straw, and they hand it over to him.)

Frisk: You left this on the counter, so I thought I'd fill it up for you and bring it with me.

Flowey: That makes it sound like... I live with you... This isn't even mine.

(Flowey grows a bit and starts drinking as Frisk responds to him.)

Frisk: Right. I just like keeping things around that I know could be helpful for my friends. So does Mom and Sans.

Frisk: That said, you know you can take it with you when you go back to... wherever you keep your things. Right?

(Flowey closes the lid around the straw and hands the bottle back to Frisk.)

Flowey: Friends is a bit of a stretch as of right now. And what's the point in taking it if it's not mine?

(Frisk looks slightly away from him.)

Frisk: Well, I guess I can't argue with that.

(Flowey glares at them suspiciously before looking back at the save point.)

Flowey: Have you tried to save yet?

Frisk: No, I was waiting for you.

Flowey: Why?

Frisk: In case something bad happens? This save point is weirder than the others, and the other one overwhelmed me really badly.

(Flowey snorts.)

Flowey: I guess you have a point.

(Frisk puts the bottle away and puts their backpack back on.)

Frisk: Well, here goes nothing.

(They stretch their hand out toward the save point and make a fist inside of it.)

(The music suddenly gets really really loud, and the save point flashes with bright light. Flowey scrambles backward closer to the wall, and Frisk shrieks and jerks their hand back out before they fall backward again and try to scramble away from it as fast as they can.)

(As soon as their hand is out of the save point, the music gets quieter again, and the save point's light goes back down to it's semi-visible, muted state.)

(Frisk breathes hard for a minute before they sit up again and look down at their hand.)

(It's bright red like they got burned badly, but the color is already starting to drain away and go back to their normal skin tone.)

Flowey: What the hell was that?

(Frisk takes a couple more deep breaths as they try to regulate their breathing.)

Frisk: I have no idea. I can tell you one thing though, and it's that I definitely was not able to save.

(Frisk and Flowey continue to stare at the save point a little longer.)

Flowey: I think we should go now.

Frisk: I agree. To the elevator?

Flowey: Yeah. And this time I'm going in the basket, but don't talk to me.

(Frisk nods, and when their hand returns to normal, they give it a couple of shakes before they open their backpack again and take out a little basket. They stand up and attach it to the center of the handlebars on their side of the scooter. Flowey climbs in as Frisk grabs their orb and attaches it to the harness again, and then they mount the scooter themself before they drive off back deeper into the Underground.)

–

(9:10am)

(Frisk stops the scooter right outside of the elevator outside the Judgment Hall. They dismount it and bring it with them as they move toward the button, and they press the button to call for the elevator.)

(The doors don't open.)

(Frisk presses the button again and taps their foot impatiently.)

(The doors still don't open.)

Flowey: Well, either the Core is still shut down, or if someone did reactivate it, they didn't divert power to this elevator at the very least.

(Frisk sighs.)

Frisk: I doubt anyone would go there and not activate these elevators because walking or riding a scooter between the entrance to the Underground and the Core takes an annoying amount of time.

Flowey: Unless they did something wrong when trying to activate the Core, and they never got the chance to get this operating again.

Frisk: That's fair. I guess we're going the long way then. Hopefully this time we'll be able to actually make it to the Core entrance.

(Frisk steps back up onto their scooter, and they zip down the walkway further into the Underground.)

–

(9:35am)

(A light fog gathers in front of Frisk and Flowey, and Frisk brings their scooter to a stop just at the edge of it.)

Frisk: This is it. This is the fog I was talking about. I don't understand why it's here.

(Flowey climbs out of the basket and moves closer to the cloud before waving a vine through it.)

Flowey: There aren't any openings to the surface anywhere near here anymore. How did this even form?

(Frisk gets off their scooter too and walks closer to wave their own hand through it.)

Frisk: I don't think it's supposed to be able to. We're not near any water, so it can't be from that.

Flowey: You said that you went through this, and after a long time you ended up back at Asgore's house?

Frisk: Yeah, and I never saw the Core entrance.

(Flowey backs up a bit, and he looks up at them.)

Flowey: I have an idea. I'm going to go back a little ways down the path, and once you don't see me anymore, go through the fog again.

Frisk: Why? Do you think the fog is here to turn people around?

Flowey: Possibly. I don't know how else you would have skipped the Core elevator and ended up going backward. Unless, you know, you're lying about that too.

Frisk: …

Frisk: Okay, yeah, I deserved that one.

(They get back on their scooter and turn to look at Flowey again.)

Frisk: I'm ready whenever you are.

(Flowey nods, and he moves away back down the path.)

(Once he's out of sight, Frisk takes a deep breath, and they push through the fog.)

(The fog gets thicker again, but they keep going. Soon it gets so thick that only the ground within a foot of the scooter is visible against the light grey surroundings, but after a few moments, the fog slowly dissipates again until it's gone completely. Frisk looks behind them to see that there's nothing there except empty walkway. They sigh then continue moving forward.)

(After a couple of minutes, they stop again right next to Flowey who is crossing his vines.)

Flowey: Guess that settles that.

(Frisk lets out a snort of frustration.)

Frisk: Does that mean something is wrong with the Core and we just can't get to it? Or does this not have anything to do with the Core at all?

(Flowey throws his vines in the air.)

Flowey: How am I supposed to know?!

(Frisk shakes their head.)

Frisk: I don't know what we're supposed to do now. I can't save; we can't get out of New Home. The only things we found here were the weird save points and memories of–

Flowey: I don't want to talk about them right now unless you're willing to tell me what the argument was about.

Frisk: …

Frisk: The only things we know so far is that the save points might be the things causing the loops, but we don't know how unless...

Frisk: …

Frisk: Yeah.

(Flowey glares up at them.)

Flowey: Yeah.

Frisk: …

Frisk: Maybe we should go back to Asgore's house to regroup. I can stop the stream then and open my ask box up for suggestions with the Players to see if they can help us get anywhere with this.

(Flowey snorts.)

Flowey: Yeah, have fun with that. What I'm doing though when we get back there is going to sleep.

Frisk: Fair enough.

(Flowey climbs back in his basket, and they set off back the way they came.)

–

(10:05am)

(Frisk takes their orb out of its harness once they bring the scooter in the house with them. Flowey climbs out of the basket and makes his way over to his and Chara's old room where he turns to give Frisk one last glare.)

Flowey: Wake me up if you find out anything useful.

(Before Frisk has a chance to respond, he slams the door shut.)

(Frisk looks down and sighs. They walk to what used to be the living room, and they suspend the orb in the air to light up the empty room before sitting down on the ground. The camera shakes slightly and moves upward before being brought closer to the floor and then over Frisk's lap.)

Frisk: Oh yeah, I should probably say before I turn off the camera. Um... If any of you can help us figure out what's going on or have other ideas that we should try while we're down here, please send them into my inbox. I know it's been a while since I've been online, and I'll answer the asks that I've gotten between the last time I was online to now next loop after all of this is over.

Frisk: Thank you all for already helping as much as you have, and I'm looking forward to talking to you all again after I turn this thing off. Which I'm going to do right now.

[captainhongjoong]

first of all i miss yuji so bad. i was really hoping he’d come back but he was like the only one that didn’t. he can’t still be in jail

anyway i guess it makes sense for jinsu to become an executor but also huh. what. is he just special or does it mean something else like this is where the executors come from? assholes like jinsu who are responsible for people dying over the concept of sin? AND it didn’t happen until he actually looked in the mirror for long enough and let it get him. like how denying the truth about everything was safer for him and when he admitted it was when everything was ruined. a+

and i need to know more about what park jungja’s hell was like. if she didn’t know what jinsu was talking about and obviously she didn’t become an executor and she came back with one (1) psychic ability but she was also completely insane for four years (? four years right) afterwards what the fuck happened to her

i love park jungja bc her fate is so grossly ironic. like the whole point of her is that she is just a person, she isn’t representative of any organization or principle, she just wants to live and be with her kids but that’s exactly why she has to be the Resurrected One and why all of them are fighting over her. and another thing!! before jinsu’s demonstration he said he was leaving the fate of the world in the hands of the detective guy. in HIS hands because he gave him the choice between revealing the truth and living his normal human life. and you could say that all of this happened because of him but him choosing to stay with his daughter is the whole point. this guy and park jungja and the taxi driver from s1e6 are the only ones who get it

and until they showed that jaehyeon had been resurrected too i thought this was actually the end of the series for sure. and it still might be but it’s open ended enough that they could continue it i guess? anyway WHAT is hell like for a newborn baby?? and she turned out normal (supposedly). oh i forgot about the mass decree and jungja saying the world was ending soon lol. well

but surprise i’m so obsessed with jinsu still. this post will NOT be about sungcheol but ohh my god. the transformation from arrogant douchebag “this world is doomed without my guidance” to crying mess “fuck this world i just want to stop suffering” is so fucking tasty. like the same man who used to save children from burning buildings or whatever is doing a january 6th and doesn’t care how many people die or what happens bc he just wants to maybe hopefully stop seeing the executor in the mirror. it’s so good. i wish the beatings had continued but ykw i got more than i could have asked for in the beginning

basically i’m so happy netflix pulled off a good second season. and this is not just bc of sungcheol either but season 2 might have even been better than season 1. i may be able to recover from sweet home after all

@ my hellbound friend i will message you tomorrow i’m omw to sleep and collecting my thoughts!!

[microraptorreactor]

replace 'final episode' with 'recent quest' and 'His Dark Materials' with 'Warframe' and 'hilarious' with 'mind-numbing' and we have my thoughts on Jade Shadows. Jesus Christ I wish this fandom could pay attention to themes and through-lines. Like I think the quest needed to be longer and spend more time with Jade but.

oh my GOD PEOPLE

THIS GAME HAS ALWAYS BEEN ABOUT MOTHERHOOD. Did we all collectively forget about Natah? Who's inability to have biological children is like. A massive part of her character? Did we forget about Eluria Entrati? Margulis? Hell, Phagrasa?

ONE STRAIGHT COUPLE DOES NOT CANCEL OUT THE FOUR QUEER COUPLES WE'VE HAD IN A ROW. Seriously. Jade's existence doesn't erase Loid, Albrect, Parvos, Suda, Dante, Ticker, or any beloved queer character from this game. This quest is not homophobic. Y'all can go stare at any of the canon queer characters at any point (And you have to fucking TALK TO ONE IN THE EVENT) except for the forty minutes of this quest.

And I know that this game's cast of villains has been a bunch of literal child murderers, but like. The Sisters of Parvos have always been a more sympathetic group, even if they are evil. Having a commander draw the line at shooting a literal newborn infant is like, nice? Not every villain is absolutely irredeemable in this game. Having a character realize that maybe her goals require crossing some ethical lines she can't bring herself to cross is a nice ark. She also needed more screentime tbh.

And Jade herself: yes, DE kinda fumbled the landing there. They could have explained more. But she was an executor, and likely a literal embodiment of the Jade Light. She's the last weapon of the Orokin. So she decides that she would rather use her light to create life, Sirius/Orion, then continue to destroy. She decides that it's time to bury the Orokin once and for all, and let the world move on. ITS SYMBOLIC Y'ALL.

I'm so tired. This isn't the worst quest ever, it was just a bit rushed. I enjoyed it more then having a fifth old man yaoi ark in a row, would have preferred Yuri but I like that they tried something new. It was clumsy at points, sure, but it's not the horrible misogynistic mess that people are saying it is. Jesus Christ y'all.

Anyways rant off. Not going to tag this so I don't get burned at the stake.

I'm gonna be honest the final episode of His Dark Materials brought out some of the worst literary analysis I have ever seen and it is hilarious to watch.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Father of Mine – 1/2

Character: Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: With the tragic passing of her mother, Y/N learns to the truth of who her father is. 

Word Count: 4,000+

Warnings: Family death, cancer, absent father, cremation 

A/N: The reader is described as tall in this fic. Bruce Wayne is 6′2 and I’m tall, so I’m indulging myself with no apologies. Read it or don’t. 

“Do you want to say anything before we…” the operator asked her.

“No,” Y/N answered quickly.

“Oh, my assistant forgot to give you this,” the operator gave her a shy smile as he handed her a small cardboard box.

She opened it to find all of her mother’s jewelry that had been on her body at the funeral.

“Thank you,” Y/N told him.

“Ready?” The operator asked.

He had been so kind throughout the whole process. It was obvious he was used to people breaking down and being extremely emotional. 

But Y/N had been stoic, almost concerningly so. 

Though he wasn’t one to judge. Everyone grieved differently.

With the pull of a handle, Y/N watched her mother’s body going into the chamber.

“It will be a few hours,” the operator told her.

He meant it will it will take a few hours for her mother’s body to burn to ash. Then they would hand her a tacky vase with her remains.

Y/N just nodded. “I’ll go for a walk.”

As soon as she was outside, Y/N called her mother’s executor.

“Ms. Y/L/N, I was just about to call you.”

“I’m at the crematory,” she told him. “I figured we should discuss the bills that still need to be paid for.”

“Yes, of course. As I mentioned to you before, your mother’s life insurance covers quite a lot of it…” his words died out.

“But it’s still not enough,” Y/N finished for him. “I’ll get the money.”

She wasn’t exactly rich, but she also wasn’t living paycheck to paycheck. But people never realized how much money it cost for loved ones to die. It was honestly ridiculous.

“You might want to consider taking out a loan,” he tried to suggest gently.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Another thing, Ms. Y/L/N. There was an envelope with a name on it. And your mother left instructions on delivering the envelope to them.”

She stopped her pacing. 

“What name is on the envelope?” Y/N asked.

There was a pause.

“Bruce Wayne.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed.

Of course she knew who Bruce Wayne was – everyone in Gotham did, as well as most of the country. He was a billionaire playboy, only making headlines when he was a mess. But every once in awhile his philanthropy would sneak in there. Y/N always assumed those were only to help recover his image and not because he was a good person.

“You still there?” The executor asked.

“Yeah. I’m just a bit confused. But please pass it along to him, if that’s what my mom wanted.”

“I can’t. The instructions specifically say for you to deliver the envelop to him in person.”

“In person?” Y/N groaned in annoyance as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

Why did all of this have to be so god damn complicated?

“Yes. Her instructions are…oddly specific."

“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll pick up everything from your office before the work day ends.”

——————

Y/N stared at the envelop that she’d tossed on her coffee table as she sipped a rather large glass of red wine.

She was wracking her brain trying to think of a time when her mom mentioned knowing Bruce Wayne. But Y/N would’ve remembered her mom saying his name – even in passing. It’s not a name that one can drop casually.

Y/N pulled up her phone and googled him. But she looked at his history. Yes, he was from Gotham, as was her mom, but so were 10 million other people.

But then Y/N’s scrolling paused when she realized they went to the same high school: Gotham Academy. Not only that, they graduated in the same year.

‘Were they friends?’ Y/N wondered.

But just classmates or friends still didn’t seem to warrant a handwritten letter to be delivered after one’s death.

Y/N didn’t open the envelope.

Her mother’s instructions specifically told her not to. And if she put in that much of an effort to get this done after her death, Y/N wasn’t going to ignore such a request.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t curious.

“Fuck,” Y/N sighed before throwing back the rest of her wine.

——————

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t grant you access to the building without your name being in the system by the company you’re visiting,” the building receptionist told her for the third time.

“I understand. But I called his office 30 fucking times and they refuse to put me through to him or get me an appointment,” Y/N practically growled.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I already called their office to say you were here and they didn’t recognize your name. I can’t let you through to the elevators.”

Y/N’s gaze flickered to the security guard who stood a few feet away. He was eyeing her now that there was clearly an argument going on.

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes. She had a good foot on him – even without her heels on. And he looked like he couldn’t run a 50 yard dash without passing out or vomiting. If he thought he was going to physically stop her, he had another thing coming.

“Listen, I am not some crazy fucking stalker. My mom knew Bruce Wayne and in her will she asked me to deliver this to him,” Y/N’s voice lowered and became disturbingly calm. “I don’t want to be here just as much as you don’t want to have this conversation.”

“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to calm down,” the security guard finally stepped forward.

“Oh, fuck off,” Y/N rolled her eyes at the rent-a-cop.

“Ma’am, I’ll have to ask you to leave,” he continued.

“Call me ma’am one more fucking time…” Y/N growled.

But the security guard was taking a step to her.

“Excuse me. What seems to be the problem here?” A voice suddenly interrupted.

Everyone turned to see a young man – younger than Y/N – glaring at the security guard just as he was about to grab Y/N.

“M-Mr. Drake, we were just escorting this young woman from the premises,” the guard stuttered out.

Everyone at the building knew every member of the Wayne family. But unlike his siblings, Tim Drake was at the office almost every day. As one should be when they’re the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company.

“For what reason?” Tim Drake asked.

“She insists on seeing Mr. Wayne. But she doesn’t have an appointment. For security reasons, I cannot let her through, obviously, unless the company she is visiting has put her into their system and the building’s system,” the receptionist explained nervously.

Y/N frowned as if she was bored of the whole thing.

Tim stepped forward. “May I ask what your business with Bruce Wayne is?”

Now that he was closer, Y/N noticed how exhausted he looked. He was handsome still, of course. But she wondered when he last got a good night’s sleep. He was shorter than her, probably standing at 5’5. And she still believed he was younger than her, which was wild seeing as he was already the CEO and couldn’t be older than 24.

Y/N sighed before she grabbed the envelope from her black leather satchel, and showed that Bruce Wayne’s name was handwritten on it.

“My mother wished me to personally deliver this to him.”

Tim tilted his head slightly. “Why isn’t she doing it?”

“Because she’s dead,” she shot back without emotion.

But Tim’s face became sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I should’ve assumed…”

“It’s fine,” Y/N quickly cut him off before he could continue.

She was so tired of being on the receiving end of people’s sympathy. It didn’t help. And the words stopped holding any meaning to her.

“But I’m sorry. Bruce isn’t in today. And he probably won’t be coming to the office for the rest of the week.”

“Oh,” was all she responded with.

Of course Bruce Wayne didn’t come to work. Why would he?

This was a stupid idea. And now she had made a scene because of it.

“But if you give me your information, I will personally let him know that you are trying to reach him.”

“Really?” Y/N asked in shock.

Tim smiled at her surprise. “Of course.”

“Here’s my card,” she quickly grabbed one from her wallet and then a pen. “All my info is on that.” She wrote something on the back. “And that’s my mom’s name.”

He took it from her and nodded. “What was your mother’s relationship with Bruce?”

Y/N shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea. I’ve been trying to figure it out. Apparently they graduated in the same high school class. But that’s all I was able to find.”

He nodded.

“Thank you…Mr. Drake. For your help. Really,” she urged.

“Please, it’s just Tim.” Then he glared at the receptionist and security guard. “For you it is, at least.”

“Thank you again,” Y/N felt like saying it 30 more times still wouldn’t be enough.

“You don’t have to thank me. Someone will be in touch. Have a good day, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Y/N,” she corrected with a smile before she nodded and started backing away.

He smiled at her correction and gave a final nod.

——————

Y/N didn’t expect to hear from anyone for at least a week.

If the Wayne family was one thing, it was busy.

They probably had parties to go to, meetings to attend, private jets taking them around the world whenever they wished.

Why would they ever prioritize a meeting with her, a stranger?

So imagine her surprise when she received a call from an unrecognized number the same day she gave Tim Drake her card.

“Hello?” She answered.

Usually she would let any unknown number go to voicemail.

“Hello,” a British voice answered. “Am I speaking with Ms. Y/F/N Y/L/N?”

“This is she,” Y/N sat up straighter on her couch.

“This is Alfred Pennyworth. I work for Master Wayne and manage all his personal appointments. I was told by Master Tim that you wished to meet with him?”

“Uhhh. Yes. Yes, I do. Is that…is that possible?”

“Would you be able to stop by Wayne Manor on Friday afternoon?”

Y/N already knew she had nothing going on that would stop her from getting this done. But she still paused to pretend to think about it.

“Yes, Friday afternoon should be fine. Are you sure he doesn’t just want me to stop by Wayne Enterprises?”

It felt oddly intimate to stop by Wayne Manor. Wouldn’t they want to meet her in a more secure location like a corporate building with security that already hated her?

“He is quite certain. Should I send a car for you Ms. Y/L/N?”

A car?

Y/N felt even more out of her depth now.

“Oh, no. That won’t be necessary. I’ll be there.”

“I look forward to meeting you, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Thanks,” she answered before hanging up and realizing that probably wasn’t the proper response to such a polite goodbye.

——————

“I haven’t heard that name since high school,” Bruce had muttered as he stared at the business card for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Yes, and the end of your relationship did not end on the best of terms,” Alfred commented.

Y/M’s/N Y/L/N had been Bruce’s high school sweetheart.

An she had seen the last moments of Bruce’s normal life. 

Upon graduation, Bruce decided to leave Gotham and that’s how his second life was founded. The two of them broke up before the summer after graduation had even ended.

Well, “Breakup” was a strong word.

Bruce stopped answering her calls.

She was his first love and he continued to love her.

But once Bruce realized where his life was going and who he wanted to be, he knew he couldn’t drag her into it. She deserved better.

And Bruce was a coward about relationships then. Maybe he still was.

“I am certain you did a thorough background check on her already,” Alfred commented with a smirk.

Bruce took in a breath before listing off all of her accomplishments. “Y/F/N Y/L/N. Graduated number one in her class at Gotham Academy. She was the star of the track team, breaking the regional record for fastest time in 100m, 200m, and 400m races. Also captain of her soccer team. Attended NYU’s photography program before dropping out after a year. Now she’s a professional photography. Her work’s been featured in Vogue, New York Times, National Geographic…amongst others.”

“Rather an impressive woman,” Alfred said.

Bruce nodded.

“I should get the tea and coffee ready for her arrival.” And with that, Alfred left Bruce in the drawing room.

30 minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Bruce glanced down at his watch: she was right on time.

He heard Alfred saying his pleasantries before he heard the clicking of her heels as she rounded the corner to enter the room he was waiting in.

For being a famous photographer, she could’ve been a runway model with her height and the way she walked into the room, completely owning it. She wore four-inch heels, only adding to her natural tallness. And her bright, red coat only added to her presence.

For a split second, Bruce was convinced that he was looking at an Amazon. Diana immediately flashed into his mind for a split second. Perhaps that was what Y/M’s/N needed help with: to get her daughter to her real people. But how would she have known Bruce Wayne had such connections? Unless she knew Batman’s true identity…

As soon as Y/N spotted him in the room, he rose from his seat.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Bruce greeted.

He took a step forward and held out his hand.

“You guys really love the formalities.” She said it with a dark evenness, but it was clearly a joke. “Y/N is fine, Mr. Wayne,” she added as she shook his hand.

“In that case, it’s Bruce,” he countered with a soft smirk.

There was something so familiar about her. But Bruce knew they’d never met. 

“Thank you for seeing me. I don’t want to waste anymore of your time,” Y/N quickly got to it. She opened her purse to grab the envelope.

“My mom wanted you to have this. And she wanted to make sure I was the one to give it to you,” Y/N explained as she offered it to him.

Bruce took it carefully, but didn’t open it. “Yes, I heard about her passing. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” she said hurriedly, making it obvious to Bruce that she did not want nor need his condolences.

Bruce nodded slowly.

There was a pause.

“Do you know what it says?” He asked her lightly.

She shook her head. “I wasn’t supposed to read it.”

“I see.”

“I should really be going. I have a flight to catch later tonight.” Most people that visited Wayne Manor wished to stay there forever. Or their curiosity got the best of them and their eyes took in every little detail.

But Y/N looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. And she wanted to get out as soon as she possibly could.

“Thank you again for seeing me,” she rushed out.

Without waiting for his answer, Y/N turned and started walking out of the room.

But she only got a few steps before she stopped.

Bruce watched her shoulders tense and her body move as she was clearly taking in deep breath.

Slowly, Y/N turned around to face him.

“Were you friends?”

Bruce gave her a watery smile. “She was my girlfriend in high school.”

Y/N seemed annoyed by that answer. “She never mentioned you. Not once.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed at that and his eyes zoned out as if he was revising the past in his mind. “I’m not entirely surprised. Things didn’t really end well between us.”

She nodded slowly. “Goodbye, Mr. Wayne.”

And Y/N turned and strutted out of the room without looking back.

As soon as Bruce heard her cab drive away, he ripped open the envelope and pulled out a letter.

He barely noticed that Dick had walked into the room. “May I ask…Who was the extremely attractive and tall woman that just walked out?”

But Bruce didn’t hear him as his eyes raced across the letter. His heart sped as he continued reading.

“Bruce?” Dick asked after being ignored. “Is she your next conquest or what?”

It wasn’t until Bruce was done reading the letter for the third time that he finally looked up and acknowledged Dick.

Alfred had also walked into the room, unbeknownst to Bruce.

“You OK?” Dick asked, now concerned with how silent Bruce had become.

“Master Wayne?” Alfred also urged.

“That was…my daughter,” Bruce finally muttered.

Dick blinked before his eyes grew wide in shock.

Alfred seemed less surprised, almost as if he had already put that together.

“Excuse me,” Bruce told them and exited the room.

———

Dick and Alfred must’ve warned the rest of the family not to bother Bruce in the cave. Usually he would’ve been disturbed by now.

Bruce had been at the computer for hours.

Alfred was the first person to come down, carrying a tray with dinner and tea.

The butler wasn’t surprised to find Y/N’s face all over the screens.

If Bruce had left any available information hidden before inviting Y/N to the manor, it was all out there now. Bruce knew everything about Y/F/N Y/L/N that was public knowledge – probably even some things that were not.

“You know, you did not seem all that surprised,” Bruce said to Alfred as he put the tray of food down next to him.

“Seemed rather obvious, didn’t it?”

Bruce quickly turned to look at him. “It did?”

Alfred smirked. “Her eyes,” was all he said.

“The color?”

Alfred shook his head. “As soon as she walked into the manor, they were reading me.” He tilted his head in Bruce’s direction. “Observation. Perception. Attention to detail...That is all you, Master Wayne.”

“The way she held herself,” Alfred continued, "Shoulders held back, head high, walking with purpose. No hesitation.”

“Also me?” Bruce asked.

Alfred simply nodded.  

“I don’t think she liked me very much,” Bruce sighed.

He didn’t know how he felt about that yet.

“A lot of people think you don’t like them when you first meet them,” Alfred countered. “Because I don’t trust them yet.”

Alfred raised his brows and silently ask him, ‘Don’t you see my point?’

Bruce rubbed his face and reached for the tea on the tray, ignoring all the food.

“I don’t know why you’re so entertained by this, Alfred.”

“Yes, I was entertained. I just saw a younger, female version of you, Master Wayne.”

“I abandoned her,” Bruce shot.

“You didn’t know she existed,” Alfred corrected.

“And why do you think that is?”

Alfred’s face dropped a little bit when he noticed the envelope discarded on the far end of Bruce’s desktop.

He looked down at the ground as he asked, “Might I ask what the letter said?”

Bruce glared at the letter as if touching it would burn him.

But after a moment, he grabbed it and quickly handed it to Alfred.

Bruce,

If this letter has finally reached you, it is because I have passed.

I must admit that I wrote this letter mostly in the event that I leave my daughter before she is an adult. But once Y/N turned 18, I decided to still pass this along to you.

There is no easy way to tell you this, so I will get to the point.

The young woman who delivered this letter to you is your daughter, Bruce.

Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.

When I found out I was pregnant with her, I was only 18. We had just graduated high school. You had started traveling. You called less and less. And you grew more distant – physically and emotionally. Eventually, you stopped answering my calls altogether. I left you a voicemail, only saying that I so desperately needed to talk to you, that I needed you.

But you never called me back.

With no words at all, you made it very clear that you no longer wanted anything to do with me.

But there I was, a teenager who was pregnant with our child.

I would be lying if I said I never considered terminating my pregnancy. I was scared and you broke my heart. All I wanted to do was erase you from my life.

But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Once I decided what my future was going to be, I also decided that I did not want you to have any part in it.

I knew even if you pretended to play the doting father and the committed partner, you would grow tired of us eventually. You would resent me and our child for bringing you down. And you would brush us aside for yourself.

I realized I would rather Y/N have no father at all than one who would only disappoint her over and over again.

To this day, I truly believe I did the right thing for all three of us.

There are not enough words to explain the complicated woman that Y/N grew up to be. But I will try my best. I think I owe you that at least. 

Or maybe you have no interest.

I don’t know how she became so much like you, even when I never so much as showed her a picture of you or uttered your name.

She enjoys being alone – almost to her own detriment. I constantly catch her repressing her feelings, always staying strong for everyone else. It reminds me of you. She’s assertive and confident, never letting anything stand in the way of what she wants. Sometimes I don’t think she’s scared of anything. It worries me, just like it worried me when I thought the same of you.

I truly don’t know what you will do with this information.

But…if you have any desire to form some sort of relationship with her, then you should know this: she will not make it easy for you. She will push you away. And she might even hate you. I raised her to never need a man in her life, and she’ll make sure you know that.

I don’t expect anything from you. I never did.

But I would just like to know there might be someone who will be there for her should she need them.

Goodbye, Bruce.

Alfred slowly handed the letter back to Bruce when he was finished.

“I pushed her away because I knew what I was about to become,” Bruce explained darkly. “And I didn’t want her anywhere near it. She would’ve been in danger.”

“Y/N, as well,” Alfred added.

“But had I known…if I just listened to her–”

“Master Wayne, I thought we had agreed to never linger on the ‘what ifs.’”

That sure silenced Bruce.

“Now, what do you plan on doing, Master Wayne?”

———

Y/N frowned when her phone started vibrating and she recognized the name of her mom’s executor on her phone screen.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Y/L/N, how are you?”

“Fine. How are you?” She was quick, wanting to get this over with. Surely, he had bad news. Another medical bill came in or some other expense that slipped by them.

“Good, good. Just curious…have you placed any payments to our various claims?”

“Uhhh…no. But I’m working on it.”

Y/N hadn’t expected to get a call nagging about paying bills.

“No, no, no. You misunderstand. They’ve all been paid,” the executor explained.

Y/N sat up straighter in her chair. “What? That’s not possible.”

“An anonymous donor. They somehow got record of all your outstanding payments and covered all of them.”

Y/N was stunned to silence.

“Ms. Y/L/N…this is a good thing.”

She blinked and shook her head. “Right. Yes, of course. I just…thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank this guardian angel of yours.”

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

Part 2

Let me know what you think!!!

[aceofstarwars]

I love how in all these Luke & Vader fics (that I definitely do not spend multiple hours every day reading) where Vader finally acquires his son and brings him onto the Executor, the person he always entrusts him to is...Admiral Piett. Like, I get it; we always want to include the named characters and Piett is awesome and I love him but he’s the fucking Admiral of a nineteen kilometre long warship. He has responsibilities. He can’t just disappear for a month to go look after Vader’s rebel son. And how the hell is he supposed to explain that. “Oh sorry, I can’t command this warship in the middle of a battle because Lord Vader asked me to look after his 20 year old kid. And that’s assuming he’s even allowed to make an excuse for where the fuck he’s disappearing off to all the time. Even if he’s a captain he still has a fucking job but I guess Vader doesn’t care about that.

And like what does Piett think of all this nonsense. I mean it’s nice Lord Vader trusts him but he isn’t a fucking babysitter. And of course he can’t say that on pain of death. He just has to keep it all bottled up and hope the Jedi doesn’t get it into his head to run away since he sure as heck can’t stop him and he doesn’t want to stop breathing today thank you very much. Poor guy. At least he gets to hang out with Luke Skywalker.

Also, I think it’s beautifully ironic how this guy who was originally meant to be strangled by Vader offscreen ended up in fanon as the only guy Vader is willing to trust. Honestly he deserves it. Piett is fucking awesome.