#'take up the call' cryptic types (you know exactly what kind of characters i mean) using box cutters as pocket knives even though like

[oozeandgoo-art]

[avengerscompound]

Small Gods: Patience - 1

Patience:  A Black Widow Fanfic

Patience Masterlist | More Small Gods

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count:  1611

Warnings: Language, guns, (smut, angst, and canon typical violence on series)

Synopsis: Every day Natasha prays for more patience to deal with a litany of things from waiting for her target to make a move - to not yelling at Clint for putting empty milk containers back in the fridge.

When her prayers are answered, Natasha finds that having patience is easy, holding on to it is a little harder.

A/N: Reader is a minor god.

IF YOU WISH TO BE TAGGED IN THE REMAINDER OF THIS SERIES, EITHER ADD YOURSELF TO THE TAGLIST OR SEND ME A MESSAGE

Chapter 1

Natasha stood on the edge of the building watching the chaos break out below her.  The team was supposed to be infiltrating a new underground crime group to figure out where a drop-off was happening.  They’d had men on a street corner no one had managed to clock, and it had just happened to be the one Steve was observing, and they’d spotted him.  That had made the whole crew antsy and then they’d wanted to change locations for the meet.  That had meant a sudden scramble to relocate everyone, so they could keep monitoring the situation.  Tony had nearly been spotted as they did and ended up having to leave the area completely so it looked like another normal New York City Iron Man sighting.  To top that off, Sharon’s comms had just stopped working completely and so no one had any idea what the group was actually saying.  It had been a series of fuck-ups and she knew she would have to get down into the mess soon the way things were going, but she was waiting to see if Clint could salvage it as he bumbled along the street acting stupid so that he could ‘accidentally bumped into his old friends Sharon’ and get some ears back on the scene.

“God, grant me patience,” she sighed.  It was a prayer that had become commonplace for her.  She’d use it when she was on an undercover mission where she had to pretend to be much less intelligent than she was.  She used it when she helped patch up Clint’s cuts after he’d spent a whole day being incredibly agile and dexterous, only to trip over his doormat and land face-first into a cactus he didn’t even know he owned.  She used it when Tony went on one of his rambling stories that she already knew.  She used it when she had to watch Steve jump off yet another stupidly high point for no reason other than he had to be their first.

“I’m not sure, Natalia,” a voice coming from way too closer said.  “I’m not sure that’s what you actually want.”

She spun around, quickly assuming a defensive position.  You stood at the corner of the building, completely relaxed.  You had dark sunglasses on and what looked like a faux leather jacket and large black boots.  You were leaning against the wall slightly and twirling a lollipop in your mouth, and despite the fact that on just about anyone else she’d think they were trying too hard, you seemed effortlessly cool.

“Who are you?”  Natasha snarled.

“Patience,” you said simply.

“Don’t tell me to be patient when you’ve just snuck up on me in the middle of a mission.  Tell me what you want, or I’ll send that piece of candy through the back of your throat.”

You laughed and held up your hands. “Okay, killer,” you teased.  “Relax.  I wasn’t telling you what to do.  I was saying that’s who I am.”

Natasha quirked her eyebrow at you.  “So your name is Patience, and you sit around waiting for people to pray for patience and you pop out thinking it’s a funny joke?  You know how close to death you just came right now?  I’m in the middle of something.  Go away before you get someone hurt.”

Natasha spun back to look down at Sharon who was now talking to Clint.  She saw the quick sleight of hand as they exchanged mic packs.

“Patience isn’t my name,” you laughed.

Natasha rolled her eyes, hoping to cling on to the last remaining patience she had rather than breaking your neck. That would just lead to a lot of paperwork.  “You said it was.”

“No,” you said, straightening up and reaching into your inner jacket pocket.

Natasha pulled her gun and pointed at you.  “Don’t even think about it.”

You pulled your hand out with a business card pinched between your thumb and index finger.  You raised your hands and flicked the card up so it was held between your index and middle finger.  “I said I was patience,” you said, taking a few steps toward her.  Natasha’s fingers twitched on the trigger finger as she tried to read your intention.  “You’ve been praying to me a lot lately.  I thought I’d show up.  But - you’re obviously not ready yet.”  You offered the card to Natasha and she took it without taking her eyes off you.  “Now… count to two hundred, and then go down the fire escape.  Agent Carter will be fine until then, and that will get you there exactly when you need to be.”

“What?”  Natasha asked, now completely confused.

“Just a suggestion,” you answered and casually strode off to the stairwell, leaving Natasha alone on the roof, completely perplexed over what had just happened.  She looked down at the business card.  Embossed in gold on the glossy black card were your name, address, and phone number.  There was no mention of a job or business or even the word patience that you had kept bringing up.

Natasha furrowed her brow and tucked the card into her pocket.  She wasn’t a trusting person by nature, but she had enough experience with magic to know not to completely ignore what you said.  She counted to two hundred as she paid close attention to what was happening in the street.  As she carefully made her way down to the fire escape, there was a commotion and Sharon drew her gun.  People scattered as a large van pulled up and armed men spilled out.

Natasha cursed under her breath as the street broke out in utter chaos.

“How did you even get there so fast?”  Sharon asked.

Thanks to your warning, Natasha had gotten there at the perfect time to take out most of the gunmen before they’d even shouldered their weapons.  In the end, while the plan hadn’t exactly gone how everyone had wanted it, and they still needed to actually find where they were operating from, they had made a lot of arrests, and thanks to Natasha, lots of innocent lives had been saved from being caught in the crossfire.

“There was this woman…”  Natasha started, not quite sure how to explain your strange appearance and departure from the rooftop.

“Oohhh…” Clint teased.  “Nat got the hots for some hot Chiquita.”

“Gross, Clint,” Natasha snarked.  “Don’t be a letch.”  Clint held up his hands in surrender and Natasha let out a long breath.  “It was weird though.”

“How was it weird?”  Steve said, sitting forward in his chair.  “Anything we need to worry about?”

Natasha shrugged.  “I don’t know - maybe,” she said.  “She said she was patience.”

Clint snorted.  “You definitely need to find her then,” he teased. Natasha swatted him on the back of the head.  “See,” he complained, rubbing his head.

“So her name was Patience?”  Steve said, opening up a drop-down screen above the coffee table.  “FRIDAY, do we have any record of a Patience as a member of any known criminal organizations.”

“Her name wasn’t Patience,” Natasha said, pulling the card out of her pocket and handing it to Steve.  “She said she was patience.”

“What does that mean?”  Steve asked, typing the details into the computer.

Natasha shrugged.  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Tony chuckled.  “I like the idea of anthropomorphic adjectives walking around.”

“Patience is a noun, Tony,” Bruce scolded.  “And so is Tony.”

“You know what I mean,” Tony said, waving his hands around.  “You can feel patient, you can’t feel Tony.”  He paused for a moment.  “Not unless you asked nicely.”

“Maybe she’s some kind of god,” Clint said.  Everyone turned to him and Natasha raised her eyebrow.  Sometimes Clint would say things that were so simple and so profoundly intelligent that she wasn’t sure if he just blindly stumbled into the answer or he was an actual genius.

“Is that a thing?”  Sam asked.  “Just random gods of emotions?”

Natasha shrugged.  “I have no idea.  It’s a pity Thor isn’t here, we could ask him.  But she did say I’d been praying to her.”

Clint snorted.  “Sounds about right.”

“But Thor’s not a real god, is he?”  Steve said.  “Wasn’t the theory that he’s just an alien that lives a long time and humans just decided he was a god?”

“The dude makes lightning, Cap,” Sam teased.  “Maybe he’s not the only place it comes from, but he can definitely create it and control it.  Why can’t there be the equivalent for something like patience.”

Clint snatched the card from Steve and shoved it into Natasha’s hands.  “I say you call her.”

“You just want Nat to stop smacking you on the back of the head,” Bucky snorted.

“No, I want to see my best friend get laid,” Clint said, folding his arms across his broad chest.  “I bet someone who can command patience would be great at sex.”

“And…?”  Bucky pressed.

“And I don’t want to get clocked on the back of the head anymore,” Clint muttered.

Everyone laughed and Natasha looked down at the card, spinning it around in her hand.

“You look like you’re considering it, Red,” Tony mused.  “What was she like?”

“Cryptic,” Natasha replied.  “Cool.”

“Was she hot?”  Clint asked.

“I think so,” Natasha said.

“So call her,” Sharon shrugged.  “She helped me out.  She can’t be all that bad.”

Natasha nodded.  “At the very least I might get some answers.”

“And who knows, Nat,” Clint said.  “Maybe she’ll be able to teach you a trick or two.”

Natasha bit the inside of her cheek trying not to laugh, and wishing she had a little bit of that patience right now.

// NEXT

[sconnie-doesnt-know]

Chapter 2

Characters - Reader, Ransom Drysdale, assorted OCs 

Word count - 3100

Warnings - Drinking, language, sexual content

A/N - Hope you enjoy the next installment of my Ransom series. Still setting things up in the chapter, but we’re moving along. For a while, there will be a good amount of heavy drinking and the questionable choices that go along with that, just FYI. Remember this is fiction and the acts are not recommended. They will also be acknowledged later if you are concerned. 

Feedback is wonderful, & if you notice any errors please let me know!

Dividers made by @firefly-graphics​

Chapter 1

You order drinks plus shots. 

“To another fucking week,” you salute with Whitney. It burns, and it’s sweet, and you just want it to act fast.

“Yeah, another one.” She grabs hers, salutes, and tosses it back back. She cringes for a few seconds, but once she recovers, she picks right up with half of a conversation you weren’t having. “So, are you gonna take someone home tonight?”

“You’re more worried about my sex life than your own.” You shake your head at her.

“After what that asshole did to you, you deserve all the good fucking. I’m just trying to find a good dick to help you forget.”

“Wow, that’s sweet in a weird way.” You shake your head again, but smile this time.

“Well, it’s true. I also don’t want to feel bad if I ditch you later for my own fuck buddy.” She wiggles her eyebrows like a cartoon villain. At least she’s giving you a warning this time and not just disappearing on you later.

“Jesus, Whit. Yeah okay.” You can’t help but laugh with her. “It’s just,” you survey the group around you, “You never really know what you’re gonna find at the end of the night.”

“Uhhh, yeah. That’s what having a one-night stand is...Oh hi.” She offers a dazzling smile to a cute guy pushing next to her at the bar.

You wait a few seconds for her attention to return before you mutter, “I am well aware.”

“So pick a partner and do-si-do. Come on, cowgirl,” she nudges you, nodding to the guy in the fraying straw hat next to you. Nothing seems to deter her.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you giggle. 

She smiles and shrugs. A few minutes pass as she looks you over, studying you.

“You’re being weird about this.”

“I know.” You nibble on the straw in your glass for a moment before getting to where your mind’s been stuck for hours. “So hey, that guy we hung out with? Ransom?”

“No.” She shakes her head hard from side to side, a slightly manic giggle coming out between the repeated, “No, no. No.”

“What?” you try to sound casual, indifferent, but she knows you too well. “I just want to know what his deal is.”

“You don’t,” she insists, shaking her head.

“Why? Did you sleep with him?” 

“No, I haven’t.” She pauses for a moment, you can see she’s actually thinking over her answer. “He’s just gonna get what he wants from you and push you away.”

“You do realize that’s exactly what you’ve been telling me to do? So I should screw someone, but not him...because that’s what he does?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait, are he and Michelle a thing? I don’t want any extra relationship drama.”

“Psshh, yeah, god knows you’ve had enough of that.” She stares off into the middle distance before shaking her head and focusing again. “No, they’re not together either, but please? Please? Just promise me you’re not interested in Ransom.”

“Okay, but why?”

“I don’t know, I guess I don’t really think you’re his type.” She lets the words hang, and you’re unsure how to interpret them until you finally settle on hurt. You physically recoil a bit when the sting of her words hits.

“Wow, ouch. What the hell does that mean?” You look down into your lap, looking yourself over really quickly and not finding anything major sticking out.

“I just don’t see it. Trust me, and tell me you’re not being serious with this.” 

Even with her strange and kind of harsh reaction, you can’t get rid of the swooping feeling you get in your stomach just thinking about him. So, you try to purse your lips to control the uncomfortable smile trying to break through. You want to assure your friend, but can’t lie to her either...at least not well. 

“I’m totally not,” you finally say with an awkward laugh behind it. Again, failing miserably to play off nonchalance. 

She sees it all and knows you’re full of shit. “No one will have any respect for you if you fuck around with him.” She says, matter-of-factly.

Where this is all coming from, you have no idea.

“You’re being mean and cryptic and I don’t like it. I’m not even saying that anything’s going to happen, but that sounds a little extreme, Whit. Come on,” you whine.

She rolls her eyes. “It’s not. Just find someone and ask him to buy you a drink. Look around, you can pick anyone, but I am not enabling you and Ransom,” she quickly adds.

You try to lighten the mood by teasing her about having standards, but can’t find much ground to stand on when she brings The Ex into the discussion. She’s really on a roll tonight and pulling no punches. It’s not what you wanted or needed from the night. You came out with a mission to have fun, so you take a deep breath and decide to be the bigger person.

“Hey Whit?”

She keeps her eyes on the bar in front of her, letting you know she’s still somewhat annoyed at you. “Yesss?”

“This week sucked. Let’s get trashed.” You sling your arms around her shoulders and shake her until she laughs with you. Her party-friend is back in action.

“Fuck. Yes.”

You struggle to go along with Whitney’s plan for your night, especially when the Cowboy and just about every other guy she pushes your way fail to keep your interest. Not that you’d never had a one-night stand, but just that lately they’d been pretty awful experiences and you wondered far too often lately what a life of celibacy would look like. It’s much easier to dismiss the guys and remember that at least your vibrator can get the job done.

Before last call you give in and you text Jeff. Yes, the Jeff with whiskey dick who left you high and dry last time as Whitney reminds you with a giggle. He sounds genuinely happy to hear from you again and promises to make up for last time which makes it seem worth it to give him another shot. He’s tall, fit, with long fingers and if you remember correctly, a decent enough dick.

He manages to stay hard this time around, and he takes his time feeling you up, but the two of you can’t find a rhythm that works. You finally bat his hand away and rub yourself off while he pumps sloppily into you. Afterward, he leans in for a kiss and you turn away to give him your cheek. Getting dressed, you give him a few non-committal answers when he asks about seeing you again, and at the end of it all, you’re most grateful that you didn’t take him to your place. 

You spread out alone in your own bed and think over Whitney’s words.

Whitney knows more than a few of your dirty secrets; the friendship between you two had blossomed quickly with your guard easily let down. She never really judged you, at least not openly, which left you swirling in doubt for days, obsessing over what would probably end up being nothing. 

What made you not his type - looks? Money? Another woman? She never really had a filter, but she was being so short on the topic of Ransom which made you think even harder, rooting through some more recent bad memories.

“Am I a bad person?” you ask Carrie during the week.

“What? No!”

You accept her answer with a nod, silently thinking.

“I wonder if I should just take a break.” When Carrie looks at you funny, you clarify, “Like, maybe I am finding these losers because I am not all that great myself? These guys are all just…”

“Babe, you’re meeting them at bars...with Whitney.”

You heave in a deep sigh, “I know. And she’s not that bad.” A humorless laugh escapes. “Maybe I am aiming too high or something?”

“There’s no such thing.” You see her shoulders shift, fire in her eyes and protective mode activated like she’s done a few times in staff meetings. “What happened?” she asks.

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

Whitney laughs when you tell her you’re thinking of taking a break.

“Was Jeff that bad? I thought you said he was good with his fingers.”

You look around, even if Whitney has forgotten she’s in public, you haven’t. No one else reacts though, thankfully.

“You’re such a bitch,” you sigh. She fakes offense which you ignore. “No, he wasn’t that bad, I just want to find a nice guy. I don’t know.”

Her already buzzed gaze moves somewhere over your shoulder, “Oh whoa, stop that thought. There’s a guy behind you that looks like he wants to bend you over right here. So,” she drags out, “How about we see how that goes and forget about Jeff, and nice for a while.”

She adjusts her own posture, subtly popping up her tits and tilting her chin down to offer him and enticing smile.

‘Jeff isn’t the problem,’ you think to yourself, but she’s already moving forward with her plan for your night. You toss back the shot she places in front of you and turn to check him out.

It’s not happening, even as tipsy as you currently are, this guy with the ironic mullet hovering next to you and trying to get handsy is not getting into your pants. You know it, Whitney knows it (even if she continues to flirt with his friend), hell - the people in the space station know it… but Mullet Guy is oblivious. It’s embarrassing. 

You sit there with your hands over half of your face, wishing he’d leave you alone, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. Turning, you see a familiar pretty face surrounded by blonde hair.

“Do you need some help?” Michelle asks, eyeing the guy next to you.

You’re surprised she even recognized you, let alone approached you, but you’re desperate to take the help where you can get it. “Oh my god, yes.” 

She gives you a knowing grin, “You’ll find some of us in the corner booth in the back.”

“You sure?” you ask, still thrown off by the interaction and nearly stumbling off the bar stool. “What about Whitney?” 

“I’ll get her,” She gives you a little nudge. 

You slip past the guy hopelessly hitting on you, mumbling and hoping he doesn’t follow and head down the aisle alongside the bar until you reach the large, corner booth. A few faces look familiar, but when he looks up you consider turning back. Judging by his smirk, there’s no chance of that happening.

You raise your voice to be heard over the noise of the bar, “Um, Michelle sent me over,” your nerves turning it into a question rather than a statement.

Ransom raises an eyebrow like he’s about to ask a question, but nudges the people next to him to make them get up and make room for you.

“Oh, no that’s...I’ll just sit on the end.” You try to politely wave them off, but they’re already up.

“Come on in, sweetheart,” he invites you, arm thrown over the back of the seat and your heart beats double-time with just how much you want it wrapped around you. The two people who vacated their spots shift impatiently and you clumsily sit down and start to scoot over under your knee bumps into his, making you immediately stop and apologize.

“You here all alone?” he asks, swirling his drink, the ring on his pinky finger flashing in the light.

“Nah,” Michelle reappears and speaks up for you as she sets down a few glasses onto the table, “Whitney’s here, but she’s got some company. This lucky lady,” she points to you and continues with a light laugh in her voice, “Was just looking miserable with some idiot not taking a hint.”

“You should’ve just told him to fuck off.” Ransom says.

You look over the crowd, finding Mullet Guy waiting for you back at your seat. His eyes droopy from the liquor and Whitney swaying with his companion. 

“I know, I just don’t like doing that. Plus, uh, I think Whitney is trying to fuck his friend.”

“So leave her. She’s a big girl and can handle herself.”

After that he continues the conversation he was having with the others before you arrived, and once again, you sit there silently watching. 

If you can call anyone the leader in the group, it is Ransom. Watching the way the other guys at the table defer to him and how he responds to what they say makes it obvious. He knows it too, practically sitting here holding court at the big square booth. 

The conversation isn’t all that interesting, at least not to you. Some kind of pissing contest the guys are having involving some sports stats. Every now and again you hear them say something so blatantly wrong, but you don’t know them well enough to correct them. With the underhanded comments and passive aggressive insults, you can’t help but wonder if any of them are actually friends. Eventually, your attention wanders over the rest of the bar patrons.

“Am I keeping you from something?” Ransom startles you with how close he is, body still but eyes roaming. You suck in a deep breath, smelling the alcohol and his cologne which makes your mouth water.

“N-no, sorry,” you struggle to come up with an excuse for zoning out, “Just looking for Whitney.”

He tips his head, “She’s right where you left her.” You follow his line of sight, finding her easily. 

“Oh. Yeah.” 

The way his face goes impassive unsettles you, like it was the wrong answer. “We’re boring you. That’s alright. Let’s talk about you.”

“Not much that you’d be interested in, I think.” Whitney’s assertion that you’re not his type replays in your head

“I don’t know about that. I have a lot of interests.” He stares at you with this look on his face, like he’s listening to something funny, but his eyes are serious. It’s intimidating when combined with the way he’s lounged so comfortably next to you, taking up the space like he owns it and yours. His tone, and the little tickle from his fingers against your shoulder feels like flirting, and now your inner voice begs you to remember how to fucking flirt. ‘For the love of god, shake off the nerves and flirt with this gorgeous creature.’ You take a deep breath and try to sink into it.

“What do you want to know?” You ask, setting your elbow on the table and propping your face on your palm while you turn even further toward him.

One side of his face lifts almost into a smile. He starts with a few basic questions, finding out you’re not from the city, how long you’ve been around. He ignores what you ask in return, continuing with his rapid-fire questioning.

“How do you know that little brat?” he asks with a tiny flick in the direction of the bar.

“Whitney?” you chuckle and he nods, “Friend of a friend; she practically became attached at my hip once we started going out together.”

“A quiet little mouse like you and her? Really?”

“I promise you, I’m not always so quiet,” you challenge.

“See, now that is interesting. Think I’d like to see that,” he answers, eyes giving you a quick up-down in your seat.

In the seconds it takes for you to process that he is indeed flirting and you need to respond, the moment is broken by a high-pitched voice.

“There you are! You fucking ditched me.” Whitney practically howls at you. You feel like a child who got caught out after curfew as you see her eyes move between you and Ransom. “What’s happening here?”

The alcohol has settled enough to remove some of your tension. With that and her overdramatic reaction, trying to control the urge to giggle at being caught is impossible, so you bite down on your lips to keep the grin from your face. “Nothing,” you answer, poorly faking innocence.

Ransom’s eyes stay on you, you can feel it, but he talks to your friend, “We were just getting to know each other better.” He turns to look at her, “Sit down with us,” his tone almost sounding like an order.

“Getting to know each other?” she asks you pointedly. 

You can’t understand what her problem is with him, especially since he’s her friend. At this point, you’re too intrigued. It’s not like there’s any point in trying to deny that you’re attracted to him with half your body leaning into him like he’s a magnet, but for some reason you think you see real disappointment in her eyes. Biting your lip, you take a peek at him to find him waiting for your response; he’s already smug with the attention.

“Yeah.” 

“What about your break?” she spits out.

You feel too many people looking at you, but you can’t answer, too shocked that she’s put you on the spot like this.

“Remember?” she asks like you’re forgetful, “You’re taking a break because you’re looking for a nice guy.” She over-enunciates as she stares daggers at Ransom.

“Why don’t you get the stick out of your ass, Whitney. I’ve been nice all night, haven’t I sweetheart?” The hostility between the two makes your back go rigid, anxious for the moment to end and the spotlight to be directed anywhere else.

“I’m fine,” you tell her as firmly as you can.

She shakes her head at you, but sits down anyway, jumping right into flirty conversation with Eric who is sitting at the end of the booth, notably there without the girl from the other weekend.

“Hmm,” Ransom hums right against your ear, making your skin tingle. “I think someone just got in trouble.” He’s clearly amused and not sounding remorseful at all.

He makes a move then. It’s slight, but you feel him tuck you a little further under his arm. Part of you is glad Whitney is distracted, but the other part wants her to notice it and realize she might be wrong.

“I…yeah,” you stumble over your words, confused and flustered between the two of them. Chest tight and pulling in short breaths and stomach swooping with excitement, you internally scream, begging for him to make it worth it.

[the-river-person]

Okay, now my interest is piqued. What does the emperor do in his daily lives and how is he perceived by those around him? (Both in his close inner circle and the general populace)

Well let's see. In the original game, Grillby is quiet and stoic. He rarely speaks and the character "Red Bird" generally translates for them, though it's revealed at the end of the Pacifist route that they're making up what Grillby actually says. And we learn that Grillby can actually talk, he just doesn't want to. I suspect that while Red Bird does make some of it up, they're probably fairly on the mark or not saying anything that Grillby himself wouldn't be fine with people thinking he said. Because he is literally standing right there and doesn't seem at all inclined to tell Red Bird to stop. But as Emperor? I suspect the Burning Emperor (as I'm now calling him) doesn't do public appearances much at all. He's revered by most people as a Hero from a war that not even their grandparent's grandparents were old enough to remember. A silent powerful protective figure who guards the Claustra Alliance. He's probably depicted in his full imperial armor for all official portraits. And whenever its necessary to address the public with an official imperial decree or announcement, he has a Master of Ceremonies or some other public officials to do it. I don't think he'd address the public for anything less than a full emergency. Though I'm willing to bet he does make various public appearances, just without speaking. He could show up at the theater or opera type thing. Maybe for grand openings of particularly important events or buildings. But lets his officials talk for him. (I sort of imagined a Mettaton who is just as energetic and in the spotlight as the original, but much more formal and regal, as the Imperial Master of Ceremonies.) Funnily enough, that would make a lot of general ire from the public about problems in their society that stem from or were supposed to be dealt with by the government, all fall on to the officials who speak for the emperor, rather than being directly on Grillby himself. Its really hard to hate someone you hardly know anything about, who only is ever mentioned as the wise and protective emperor, a hero, a savior. Functionally they know that imperial decrees come from him, but just because people know information, doesn't mean they've really spent time considering it or realized its implications. A lot of government would be left to the Ministers of the Cities. People like Minister Sans who oversees finances and trade for his city. But he's still a tyrant, even if he's quiet. You've got to watch the ones who seem nice, who seem reasonable, who seem like they've got your best interests at heart. They can be dangerous because they're not loud and making an obvious show of being terrible. Despite leaving the day to day running of things to Ministers, the empire would have a tight grip on the Cities, using the threat of the "Corruption" to not only keep its people inside the cities, but also to impose ever more strictures under the guise of safety measures. The Empire can impose taxes and tariffs on all kinds of things, quietly adding them on one at a time over a long period of time until one day people wake up and wonder why they're slowly being driven into poverty while the rich don't seem affected at all. I suspect the Imperial Court, wherever its located, has somewhat of a different view of him. Of course they don't all know everything he has planned or is doing. But they'll have seen what happens to anyone who crosses him or dares to oppose him. Nobles relegated to outposts or lavish mansions far from the center of imperial power in the worst areas. Made to oversee dead end projects, or set to finish impossible tasks and then punished for not achieving those. And if you go too far, you can be executed for treason. The Emperor wouldn't even have to say a word, just a gesture would do. So the court both adores and worships him as the Hero just like everyone else, but they also fear him because they live with the reality of the power an emperor can hold. His direct cabinet of officials will probably know him better. Be in on his plans, or perhaps have come up with many of those plans

themselves.

Well what I had in mind was either that the Corruption was created intentionally. Perhaps Grillby was one of the people involved in its creation. Or maybe he didn't find out about it until long after he took power. But my thoughts were that the Corruption was originally made to stop the war, to frighten humanity so much that they'd rather side with Monsters to survive rather than imprison them and then perish from this terrible thing. And then later it could possibly be used for a means of control, or to retain power. It could be an actually sickness that spreads and was created in a test tube, or it could be the result of a kind of weapon that must be continually used on the land when nobody is around to see the cause. Then official pictures are shown of the areas overtaken by the Corruption, blackened plants and greying soil. So the corruption is real, but what exactly it is and how it works is a lot harder to figure out. Certainly it doesn't spread the way the imperial government claims it does, since the Warrens don't have any of the stifling strictures that the Cities do and they're not overrun. Also scavengers clearly wander the wastes and badlands looking for stuff they can repair and sell, like old technology. I suspect that the device Frisk accidentally stole from Aaron is some kind of severely outdated communication device. I was thinking a Portable Ham Radio, or a NOAA Emergency Radio. Something that hasn't been used in centuries. By Frisk's description of the screen and the buttons, I'm going to guess that this type of technology isn't available to the general public. As to who or why people are disappearing, I'm not certain. It could be the fault of the Imperial Government or someone in it. Or it could be an entirely different group that's doing it, taking advantage of a bad situation to hide their activities and plans. Whatever it is... its not good. And finally, yes. Mistral is being purposefully cryptic. I mean, Sans is already that way to start off. But the first person Mistral met out in the Multiverse was Ink, who probably impressed on him and Majiscule the need to not interfere with the course of events in each Universe, to not mess with their Order. He can interact a little, but he's trying very hard to let Frisk and Azzy figure things out themselves based on information they already had and just hadn't put together. As far as this world is concerned, he doesn't exist.

[salenakingston]

Mystery March Day 6 - Games

(I’m not entirely happy with how the second quarter of this writing came out, mostly because I don’t know the first thing about Grim Fandago. I did a little research, but still not as confident about it. Hope it still turned out good regardless.)

Vivi and Lewis sat together on the couch of Vivi’s home, chilling music haunting the space around them. It sounded like a mixture of sirens and someone banging loudly on metal. In a way, it reminded them of some of the noises Arthur made when he busied himself with his work. Whether it be at Kingsmen Mechanics, or on his downtime, the clang of metal always seemed to be ringing.

Still, it was a nice combination, certainly befitting of the atmosphere. Well, at least in terms of the game being played. Her friends always seemed to be surprised by the kind of stuff she enjoyed. Who would think that the sweater and scarf wearing, blue haired girl with more general excitement for the world around here would be interested in horror and mysteries?

She certainly didn’t look it, but then again, looks could be deceiving.

Lewis was content relaxing at her side, watching her as she played. Truth be told, he couldn’t really follow a lot of what was happening. It wasn’t that the game was poorly designed, but rather that it seemed a lot of things were not told to whomever was playing on the surface level. Characters in this story spoke far more cryptically. They spoke like cult maniacs, and they would know. A couple too many close calls, crossing the wrong path.

It made him feel a little uneasy, at least until recognizing that at least in the current situation, it was only a game. They had done their best to steer clear of any other dangers. Arthur was probably the most thankful for that.

His arm reached over, pulling the bluenette closer to him, her offering a smile in turn. She took her eyes off the screen, long enough to turn her bright gaze up at him, “Enjoying yourself Lew?”

He smiled back down to her, “I’m always enjoying myself when I’m with you.”

“Didn’t take you for much of the ‘sit down and watch their girlfriend play video games type.’”

“Well then you don’t know me all that well.” He planted a kiss along her forehead, letting her get back to playing. She seemed to be in some otherworldly hospital, nothing but the color of rust covering the screen. The path her character walked on was nothing but steel grating, feet ‘clanging’ with each step she made him take. The hospital itself seemed to be more like a maze than what a normal layout would be like. Some of the rooms he could pick out as ones he had seen her go into earlier in the game.

A sudden thought crossed his mind, “Why didn’t you invite Arthur over?”

“Oh, you know how he is with,” she set the control down, making air quotes with her fingers, “scary games.”

“But it’s not even that scary. I mean sure, some of the places look unsettling, but it’s not like the graphics are super detailed.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t seem like his type of thing. I’m sure he could find something to get scared at.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Vivi leaned over again, offering him a quick kiss on the cheek, “Besides, it gives me some time to spend with you.” Yes, and he was never going to turn down an opportunity like this. His smile grew, nearly ear to ear as he heard her shout, “Take this you nurses!”

----

Arthur and Lewis sat together at the desk in the latter man’s room. The Peppers seemed like the kind of people that didn’t have much in the form of technological entertainment, and Lewis seemed to follow suit, well mostly. Phones were kept to allow for easy communication. Since the three friends started their little “hunts,” the computer was a good source in terms of research. Each member had one of their own, though the various content on each one was vastly different.

The Pepper son carried an extra chair into his room, giving his friend a place to sit that wouldn’t create distance between them, nor would force him to stand. It seemed like a good idea at the time, to have the guys handle searching for stuff while Vivi checked through books. Guess that was a bonus to having a girl that worked around all kinds of books for a living.

There was only so much the two of them could take before they needed a break. Maybe it was just that the bluenette was able to help keep their focus, something they were lacking here. The blond’s came with sparks of inspiration, and the two friends figured a little down time would do them some good.

Sometimes it almost felt hard to come by with how ‘gung ho’ Vivi could be. Even so, they both still loved her.

Arthur had begun going over some sketches he had made when the voice acting kicked in. It was obvious to all of them Lewis loved cooking, so much so to helping his family any chance he got. And of course, something they bonded over was gaming. Each one of them had their own specific genre, and a game to pair with it.

Come to think of it, when was the last time he had poked around with games his taller friend liked? What did that say about him as a friend? Maybe…?

Arthur leaned over, eyes peering at the screen. Well, it certainly wasn’t anything he was expecting. Oh no wait, once it began to go more in depth with the world, he began to understand. He had no doubts the slight spanish inspired nature of the game attracted Lewis to it.

He kept himself quiet, content at his friend’s side as he watched. It was some kind of adventure based game, lots of collecting items and using them in other places to get more items. Not exactly his type of game, but he could see the appeal of a puzzle based game. Putting the three friends’ heads together, they could work out just about any one. Each of them brought a unique perspective, looking at a situation from all angles.

Even if he felt that his portion was nowhere near the level of his other two friends.

Lewis’ head turned, taking notice of the blond observing. He found his smile again, or rather the one that he gave to his friends. There was something softer to that smile, inviting the warmth shared between them, “You alright Artie?”

“Yeah. Just watching.”

“I thought you only liked action games.”

“I never said that.” Suuuuure. It wasn’t hard to tell the blond was backpedaling on the accusation.

“Do you uhh, mind if I keep watching?” As if he even needed to ask.

“Of course not.”

----

Arthur Wins!

Vivi tried not to toss her control to the side in annoyance. She probably should have seen this coming. What on earth was she thinking when she agreed to partake in his favorite game? There was a reason it was his favorite, and the one thing he could always count on to beat them at. A wide grin covered his face, falling back against the couch. The three of them decided to come over to his house for a change.

And when he proposed the challenge at some rounds of Smash Bros… it was almost like he was baiting her into playing with him. Who was she to turn down an offer when he was acting so smug about it.

Oh, she was going to wipe that grin right off his face.

She huffed, facing away from her gloating opponent. A playful nudge was what she received in return for this sulky gesture, “Aww come on, don’t be a sore loser Vivi.”

“You’ve won every round we’ve played.”

“I’ve warned you every time we do this.” He has, but it never seemed to make a difference. There had to be another angle she could tackle this problem from. It couldn’t have been the character she was using, as he would either have a good counter for whomever she picked, or she was just confident she might be able to throw him for a loop with someone new. Spoiler alert, it didn’t work.

It couldn’t have been the stage. The three of them played enough times to have them memorized, and Arthur probably knew just as much, if not more. So what could she do?

Oh wait. She knew.

The bluenette raised her arm along the back of the couch, “Lewis, can you come here?”

“What are you doing?”

The Pepper man stepped through the doorway, “Yes Vivi?”

She was quick to pass him a controller, “I need your help.”

“W-Wait!”

“Alright.”

One round later… Vivi wins!

Now it was the blond’s turn to sulk. Of course, when she couldn’t win alone, she had to recruit someone else to help her. A huff escaped from his lips, turning a bit away from her now. Salty. That was how someone might describe him right? Vivi leaned over, a smug look on her face as she gave him a little nudge, “Don’t be such a sore loser Artie.”

“You only won because Lewis helped you, and then he let you win.”

The man in question gave a shrug of his shoulders, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Artie.”

“You know what, one more game. I’m going to beat both of you this time.”

His two friends just gave an endearing laugh.

----

It was late at night, the only light coming through the home was the dim of the television screen. The Yukino household was near silence, Vivi already having gone to bed, as well as the rest of her relations… so then who could still be up at this hour?

A human with spiky red and black hair relaxed along the couch, controller in hand. The screen displayed a white wolf, a disc with flames hovering just above its back. The wolf’s body was covered in black markings, the graphics making it look like the markings themselves were alive. The landscapes of the game were in a similar style, flowers growing behind the wolf as it ran.

A smile formed on the human’s face.

He set the controller to the side, letting the game’s music quietly echo in the room. The volume was turned down low enough that it would not wake anyone else in the household. It gave him a sense of longing… or perhaps better a sense of nostalgia. It reminded him of home, the soft tunes taking his mind back to a time long in the past. Everything was so different now.

A soft clearing of someone’s voice made him turn his head.

Vivi’s grandmother staring at him.

His smile faltered, especially when she began to step closer to him. She had always been wary of him, from the moment Vivi brought him home, and that feeling only grew when she declared she was keeping him. It was no surprise she had little to say about his sudden change in appearance. So then what was he bracing himself for? A scolding? Her trying to throw him out? Threats?

She might be old, but she still had a lot of fire left in her.

Instead, she found herself settling down on the couch, right next to him. That was unexpected.

The music continued to play as the two sat in silence. What was he supposed to say to her? Any thought he had became blank, red eyes drifting over to her form every now and then. After a while, he head raised up, “音楽はいいです.”

Mystery blinked, head turning back to the game. Did she miss their hold home as much as he did? His hands found the controller again, finding more investment, if only to give both of them a sense of home, “はい。 はい、そうです.”

----

(Translations in order: The music is nice / Yes. Yes it is.)

[funkymbtifiction]

I would like to start by apologizing preemptively for the lenght of this, but I couldn’t find another way of explaining everything in a shorter submission, and I really, really want your opinion on this. Since I know you are not interested in anime and won’t ever be, and I respect that, I won’t even bother asking you to watch the show I am going to tell you about. However, I’d like to hear your opinion on the types of one of the characters.

Madoka Magica is a magical girl show with the premise of deconstructing its own genre, but the cast is nevertheless very similar to, let’s say, Sailor Moon’s group, which means they are all five schoolgirls with, I dare say, very complex, detailed personalities, one of the reasons I had such a good time watching it, trying the whole time to guess the functions they were using and which Enneagram types they were displaying. One of the girls is especially interesting: she is called Homura and, from the get-go, I thought her characterization was very similar to Matrix’s Trinity (who, curiously, you seem to have typed as an ISTJ 6w5 - I am coming back to this later), albeit in a much more mysterious and perhaps even antagonistic way. 

Basically, the main character gets recruited alongside a friend by another girl who is already working as a magical girl, and their job is to fight against “witches”, sort of dimensional alien monsters who keep coming into our world to attack innocent humans. Homura is a magical girl as well, but from the beginning she only appears to the characters in order to say very cryptic things and to take over the ongoing fight against a witch and quickly finish her by herself. She displays a lot of strange knowledge about the girls, though no one seems to know where she comes from, and you can tell she knows a lot more than she lets on and has some sort of plan on motion. She rarely appears, but everytime she does, she seems to have everything under her control in an extremely practical way, like she is playing chess and she always knows what is coming next. Also, she really tries her hardest to stop the girls, ESPECIALLY Madoka from accepting to become magical girls in a very blunt way. She doesn’t try to reasonate with them, never tries to appel to them on an emotional level or even to persuade them. It’s always “don’t do it if you value your life”. Soon, you find out she has been actually tracking some kind of “ultimate witch” and has been doing her best efforts to thwart her by herself. Obviously, until the latter episodes, I was sure this was a very cool INTJ 5w6 girl.

Then, the plot twist happens, and the penultimate episode is from her perspective. Turns out she is a time traveller: in her original timeline, she was a meek transfer student who was befriended by Madoka and joined the girls in their adventures, although not as a magical girl herself. In the end, they all died in the battle against the “ultimate witch” I mentioned and she used her wish (you are granted a wish when you accept to become a magical girl) to go back in time to when she met Madoka to fight alongside her and prevent her from dying in battle. Yet, it’s not enough, and the same thing happens again, though now she has the ability to travel back in time to that exact day she met Madoka whenever she wants to. Thus, she has been living in this exact time loop for months and maybe even years, because no matter what she does, all these girls always wind up dead and she keeps coming back to try again.

Here is the thing: her “original” characterization appears to be that of an INFP (LOTS of Fi) 9w1 or 6w5 (6w5, in my opinion) and after trying too much to help these girls (especially Madoka - it’s all about Madoka for her, actually) and failing everytime, always watching while they die and becoming visibly damaged because of these disturbing experiences, her personality seems to have shifted because of a loop or a grip (I don’t understand a lot of these concepts, so I’ll leave that to your interpretation) and now her plan seems to be not interacting much with the girls, stopping Madoka from making her contract and finishing the ultimate witch by herself, so nobody dies. 

I tried to figure out how an extremely traumatized INFP 6w5 could start acting like an aloof INTJ 5w6, and then I realized: at the beginning, I thought of how much she resembled Trinity, so what if her “persona” was an ISTJ 6w5 instead? I mean, just think about it: what I saw as Ni was actually Si, since there was no intuitive planning and she had been stuck in that month for maybe even years of her life. She was relying on Si and her knowledge from prior experiences the whole time in a way that seemed to be Ni if you weren’t aware of her status as a time traveller. I even watched the series again to confirm this, and it makes a lot of sense, as she only seems to break out of her stoic act a couple of times when, presumably, the characters do something too spontaneous and act out of their expected reactions. She always seemed to have the upper hand and to know exactly what was going on and what was about to happen because, well, SHE DID. Like I said, everytime she truly had to improvise, she sucked at it and failed. Besides, she seems to be “stuck” on her mission in a hopeless way that reminds be of inferior Ne descriptions. The same arguments I had for TeFi when I thought of her as an INTJ remain the same, obviously.

As for 6w5 and 5w6, once you know her true reasons and goals, it’s obvious she is a 6 because she is doing all that because of her loyalty to one person. Even in her original state (which, honestly, seemed to be already a little unhealthy and depressed), she was really insecure and desperately wanted something or someone to cling to, and that person was Madoka, which explains her determination to her. 

Well, I know anime is not your cup of tea, but thank you very much if you accept to give your thoughts on this.

If all her mysterious ‘foreknowledge’ does indeed come from her living the same day over and over again, then she is certainly not an intuitive dominant, since it’s not coming from a lack of evidence, but a substantive amount of it -- past experience-based Si, yes. So I would say your argument is valid reasoning. :)

[thanksjro]

Polyhex Wars, Book 1 Part 2: The Timeline for the Robots Being Gay Goes Back Further Than I Thought

Ratchet wakes up from that whole, “mystical passing out” thing to find himself strapped to a table with his head all poked into with wires. Optimus and Prowl are also being subjected to this treatment, but they’re not awake yet.

I guess we all have that one character we just latch onto, don’t we?

Chromedome was there when all three of these guys collapsed, and went to go get help. Ratchet explains that there was black fire and breaking glass and it was all like some god-awful acid trip.

No kidding, doc.

Ratchet seems to think that all that actually happened, but it turns out that it was all in their heads, much like everything else that they’d seen. Chromedome just saw them drop with a flash of light.

Optimus wakes up, and First Aid explains that their mental trips into Limbo are coming closer and closer together,  and becoming more violent as a result. There’s a good chance that the next time they have an attack, they’ll be sharing a dreamscape.

Prowl hasn’t woken up. Optimus is worried that he’s stuck in Limbo, and demands that they be put back under to guide him back to the land of the living. First Aid has his reservations, but what is he gonna do, argue with the space pope? Optimus and Ratchet are sent back in with the power of mind-transfer.

Let’s take a quick look at some Chromedome canon before we move on to the next chunk of story, because I want to try and get a feel for why Roberts seems to like him so much.

In the Marvel comics, Chromedome was kind of a reclusive computer nerd, who very much disliked the fact that all his programming skills were only being applied to the war effort as opposed to literally anything else. When Fortress Maximus decided to up and leave, he went along gladly. He ended up getting paired with a very outgoing, vain Nebulan partner named Stylor when the whole Headmaster thing happened. They had their differences, but ultimately were brought together by the common goal of kicking Decepticon ass for the greater good. Comic Chromedome is a relatively nice guy, if a bit cowardly- his final entry in the series was heading for the hills when Unicron showed up, but honestly I can’t really fault him for that.

And then there’s the Headmasters anime. Yeah, Chromedome was an anime protagonist back in the 90’s. Anime Chromedome is a completely different entity than his comic counterpart. His whole thing is that he wants revenge for the murder of his friends at the hands of Sixshot. He’s also a Headmaster- no shit- but it works a little differently, in that he’s the only one involved with the process. Chromedome himself IS the head, and the big body he plugs into is just this sort of inert mecha that he pilots when he wants to be able to reach the higher shelves at the supermarket.

Anime Chromedome is the second-in-command to Fortress Maximus, and he’s a bit of a jackass at times, but he seems to have his heart in the right place. You know, when he isn’t busy beating Decepticons to death. Anime Chromedome goes hard.

Getting back to the story, we return to the scene we left at the end of Part One, with the 40 Autobots having been caught in a trap in Darkmount.

Well that lasted all of five minutes. Poor Grandpa.

This starts a chain reaction, and it isn’t long before all the Autobots are throwing punches. Blaster goes full cowl, taking four guys on at once, and potentially kneeing someone in the nuts so hard they flies up into the air and are promptly exploded by gunfire. Blaster throws a gun to Sights, who is a sniper, and then is right back in the center of the fracas.

Sights is a sniper here, but it looks like the only Sights in Transformers canon is a bird who can turn into a fusion cannon. They probably aren’t the same character, unless there’s something I don’t know about birds.

Sights hauls himself up to a ledge using a grappling hook, and starts picking off Decepticons. Things seem to be turning around for the Autobots at this point, because Sights is the best.

Sights is what some might call a Mary Sue- he’s the best at sniping, rivaling Optimus Prime himself with his accuracy, everyone seems to know him, and he singlehandedly has turned the tide of this fight. As the Autobots escape, he manages to explode a key piece of Decepticon equipment, killing over a dozen enemy troops.

This is an earlier work, if you couldn’t already tell.

We do see some neat transitions in the writing, though.

Ratchet and Optimus have entered Limbo, and are feeling a little manic about the whole thing, especially since the space is just filled with corpses from the Time Wars. Like, it’s a carpet of dead bodies.

Roberts was all about that edge from the get-go, huh?

The two robots start walking, looking for Prowl.

Over with Red Alert on the Celestial, he’s not really feeling the vibe on this spacecraft. Neither is Hot Shot, but neither of them can really pinpoint why exactly that is. Sideswipe points out that Getaway doesn’t have his Nebulan partner with him- for this particular story, we’re going with the take on Getaway as a Powermaster, which means he has a smaller person who plugs into his body to act as a battery, kind of like a reverse parasite.

Comic books are weird.

Toy gimmicks are also weird.

This cues in the Autobots that things might not be on the up and up here. You know, that and the whole “Witterquick” thing. The boys load their weapons, but keep them concealed as they approach not-Blaster, who’s beginning to worry that he’s been caught after all this time.  He must have sort flavor of social anxiety, because he’s kept his cool over the video chat for the last few weeks, but the moment Red Alert enters the room, he blows his cover and orders the Decepticons to attack.

Back at Darkmount, it seems we’ve lost a few people, as the count has gone from 40 to 29. The boys are running through the halls, completely clueless as to where to go in order to escape.

Don’t be shocked by the language, this is G1 Silverbolt, not the one who fucks is a complete gentleman to a spider.

I’m still convinced that this Courier guy is evil. You should be tossing him out the window, not looking to him for help.

The Decepticons are gaining. Hound, exasperated, asks as nicely as he can for Silverbolt to try and wake Courier up as they attempt to keep the distance between factions as wide as they can. Laser fire quickly becomes involved, and Swerve and Bumblebee go from the back of the pack to the front. Little fellas can move when they want to.

While Sights does another cool thing with some guns he stole, Courier wakes up and says- with some trouble, since he’s just woken up and still bleeding from that leg wound- that they should jump into the sewers to escape.

That’s all well and good, but if they intend on doing such a thing, they’ll need to put a bit more distance between themselves and their assailants. Everyone starts shooting at the ceiling, attempting to bring it crashing down. Everyone except Sights. No, instead Sights goes on picking off any Decepticon who gets too close for comfort, until they manage to bring the house down.

The strong, silent type, Sights is. Tall, dark, and handsome, too, most likely.

Back in Limbo, Ratchet’s starting to crack.

As if on cue, the ground starts to crack, revealing lava of all things, and the whole scene turns into Dante’s Inferno-flavored Hell. Yeah, proper noun Hell. Optimus and Ratchet are exploded by contact with a downpour of acid rain, then their bodies reconstituted, only to be burned to crispies by the lava. When they wake up from that, they find themselves stuck on a spinning silver plate in the sky, where they have an excellent view of where Prowl’s gotten to- he’s stranded on an asteroid with a big, scary Decepticon, who’s about to complete wreck his shit.

You know, the snark has always been there in Roberts’ writing, but it didn’t really hit its stride until after this piece of work.

Meanwhile, in the sewers, our Autobots aren’t doing so hot. Courier’s probably going to die if they don’t get him medical attention soon. I guess they just didn’t have any sort of medic on the Celestial when it was overtaken, which seems like a massive oversight. Or maybe they’re dead.

We don’t have time to worry about the hiring practices of the Autobots right now though, because a few Decepticons just arrived on the scene.

Well, there goes the token girl character.

Seems like nobody told these ‘Cons to not hit their deep cover operative. There goes several thousand years of Autobot secrets, dumbasses. Soundwave’s going to be so pissed.

The Autobots quickly fall into formation and start defending themselves. Turns out Rev-Tone’s on the scene.

Hi Rev-Tone!

Someone gets shot and proceeds to explode, which causes enough chaos for a Decepticon to load up a missile launcher without being noticed and fire it into the crowd.

Things are looking hopeless, so that means it’s time for Sights to make his Heroic Sacrifice™. Hound begs him to stay, because he can’t bear to lose anyone else.

Unfortunately, the Hound/Sights coffeeshop AU slowburn fit written by Rewind will have to have a fix-it fic tag, because Sights is almost immediately and literally ripped apart by a smattering of Decepticons. Knowing his time is running out, he busts out the big guns.

Oh my god he’s got fucking laser vision.

That isn’t quite enough though, so he initiates self-destruct, thereby saving his fellow Autobots and dying a hero.

You know, if you stack Sights on top of what was left of Quark after the interrogation scene, you make a whole robot. Worst. Duobot. Ever.

Not to worry though, because Wheeljack’s taken the opportunity to be all weird and cryptic, and insinuates that they potentially COULD bring Sights back from the dead. Because of course he can.

We don’t get to find out how that magic’s going to happen though, because it’s time to check in on Optimus and Ratchet.

Things aren’t going great. They crashed the disk, and it turns out that the giant Decepticon threatening Prowl and throwing body parts at him is Galvatron. Optimus leaps into action, attempting to use his magnetic repellence on the enemy.

I guess that’s a thing he has.

It works, but it’s taking a lot out of Optimus, so they need to figure something else out fast. Optimus, ever light on his mental feet, surges the power so that Galvatron explodes. Ratchet goes over to Prowl to see what his deal is, and it’s looking like he’s going to need brain surgery.

“Now back the hell up, Optimus, you’re breathing contaminates all over Prowl’s exposed brain.”

Back on Cybertron, it turns out that things might just be okay after all, as Hound and company have stumbled across the lost city of Subterrainia. Subterrainia did not exist in Transformers canon at the time of this writing, but it would in 2012, when Roberts used his immense power as a hired writer for the franchise to make it so.

Now that they’re in a place that has medical equipment, they can heal their wounded and indulge in a little lore. Trasher provides us with the backstory of this lost city.

Long before the War, Transformers lived on the surface of Cybertron. Then, one day, someone said, what if we didn’t do that? Then they built Subterrainia and lived there instead. Then the War happened and people sort of just forgot that it was there. The end.

That’s literally it.

After that riveting explanation, we check back in with Optimus, who I suppose forgot to put on his patience hat this morning, as he asks Ratchet to hurry up with the life-saving field surgery he’s currently in the middle of. Ratchet calls him out on it, as he should, and Optimus apologizes, going back to worrying about his troops outside of Limbo.

Over on the Celestial, Red Alert’s just had his arm shot off, and there’s a continuity error running amok.

You are supposed to be back at base, mister!

The Autobots are getting their asses kicked, and it’s not hard to see why- a lot of the Decepticons on this spacecraft are heavy hitters. Starscream’s here, the entire Combaticon team, it’s wild.

Then Starscream calls for escape plan 3 to take place, and they just… leave. It’s strange, and it’s sudden, and the Autobots can’t help but agree. Red Alert decides to see what’s on the computer to try and figure out what they’re planning, and ends up setting off the countdown for a bomb. Slapdash yells at him for being an idiot.

Back down in the City of the Mole People, Getaway’s come back from checking out the place, and informs Hound that it’s completely abandoned. He theorizes that the Decepticons killed everyone who lived here, an will probably come looking for them sooner rather than later. That’s all fine though, because Courier’s back and better than ever.

I still don’t trust him.

He says he knows how to get out of Subterrainia- which only chalks up more points against him being a true Autobot- but hold on! What about Sights?

Sights just got Goldbugged. It’s Ammo now.

Roberts will never let a pair of robot titties go unnoticed. I can’t believe that Wheeljack, with the limited time they had, would go and make Ammo this attractive, and then have the audacity to show him off with a dramatic reveal. It was completely unnecessary, but here we are, staring at Ammo’s strong arms and thighs, wishing to be held by Hotbot 9000 over here.

Hound is all about this overhaul. Look at him, getting all flustered.

Ammo as character is present in the IDW run of the comics, but in name only. They are very different creatures, much like the different iterations of Quark. Roberts is very into recycling, and here is no exception.

After Ammo’s debut, the narrative checks in on Autobot City, where things aren’t nearly as sexy; Starscream made a beeline for the place the moment they left the Celestial, and they’re wrecking shop. He’s doing this without orders to do so, by the way. This is just how Starscream wants his Monday to go, I guess. It’s looking pretty grim for the Autobots, and Optimus is still stuck in Limbo. Hopefully he gets back soon.

[keepyourpantsongohan]

Ayesha Liveblogs Free! S3

I will never get tired of Makoto offering Haru a hand out of the water

OMG I guess some things do change Makoto’s been dunked and I kinda love it

“I’m never gonna be a normal person” wow who is this this Goth Diet Haru

I love the phrase “hot minute” actually thank u for ur teen slang Asahi

Offering people his lecture notes and texting back right away will anyone ever be as good as Makoto? Trick question no

“I’m still young and innocent” “That’s a weird thing to say” I love that Haru’s meeting a bunch of people who aren’t used to his antics

This flashback seems to indicate that Haru felt Some Kinda Way about Ikuya which is weird because they look almost the same

“Don’t worry too much about the family” LMAO Sosuke has received a blessing from his cousin to follow Rin to Australia 

“Just inferior copies of Ikuya” that’d be more meaningful if Ikuya had done anything other than stare broodingly

It’s telling that the Iwatobi team is dressed like the Wiggles in this outro

All this outro really told me is that they aren’t really that good at differentiating main character design

“We have to try not to spoil them too much” I approve of Ikuya’s brother and his co-parenting buddy

“I’m not going to move ever again,” said Asahi, with the full confidence of a twelve-year-old boy who knows absolutely nothing about anything

Okay but for real Ikuya and Haru straight up look like siblings this weird rivalry energy on top of that fact is a little bit Much

[Rose and Rosie voice] It’ll never work out their hair is the same colour  

“Is Haru the guy who was all dressed up and riding a camel in the recruiting video we saw?” UNBELIEVABLE their Arabian Nights outro from S1 was actually their recruitment video Iwatobi do u take constructive criticism

“I’ll even be good enough to compete against you” how many rivals does one young man really need my god

Hey Trenchcoat Man maybe introduce yourself before telling these teens how to live their lives

Dude you’re so controlling trying to prevent Ikuya from seeing his friends

Ahhhhh I love Haru being in touch with his emotions and apologizing to Ikuya tbh I give Makoto and Rin a lot of the credit for his ability to communicate lmao 

“I’d prefer you didn’t keep him too long” listen I get where you might be coming from since Haru hurt Ikuya’s feelings but also stop that

“Thought I’d give you a wake-up call” I really don’t like the vibe of Hiyori

“Japanese guy! Friend of yours, maybe?” An accurate representation of what it’s like to hang out with white people lmao

There’s a different vibe from a teenager who giggles about swimmers’ muscles to an adult swim coach who is coaching swimming at a university giggling about swimmers’ muscles put that away Mikhail

Hiyori gives me the straight up heebie jeebies every time he opens his mouth

I can’t read Japanese but I have to assume Rin was gonna call Haru and reminisce about their bed sharing night lmao

Natsuya is some kinda Swimming Capitalist Nomad I’m not mad about it

“How many of these dreams do you have?” that’s valid lmao Rin has #calledout for being a rival slut

“His face told me that what matters most to him is not here” I can’t tell if this is a reference to Ikuya or to Natsuya’s white-haired rival-friend-boyfriend-probably

You know what, in the context of this show: Boyfriend 

“Hey, calm down. Listen, Archerfish--” HARU PLS

I don’t know Misae but the fact she calls her boyfriend Archerfish has already won me over

Hiyori would you fucking stop interfering this isn’t fair to Ikuya

“Ikuya’s too busy to waste his time reminiscing on childish things” well that should be Ikuya’s decision shouldn’t it like not 2 get 2 real but this is all the markers of an abusive relationship if someone does this to you please tell someone

God this stubbly weird man and his ominous advice STILL without any introduction 

“I’m getting sick of hearing you speak for Ikuya like you’re his damn boss” ME TOO ASAHI

YOU CANNOT DECIDE WHO IKUYA’S FRIENDS ARE HIYORI YOU ABSOLUTE SHITPRETZEL 

HA Ikuya knows you’ve been giving the boys the runaround fuckweasel

“If I swim with Tono, maybe it’ll help me understand him” Makoto coming after jerks with his best weapon: empathy <3

“People you swim with all seem to end up suffering, don’t they” LISTEN YOU ASSBANANA IT’S NOT HARU’S FAULT THAT PEOPLE GET OBSESSED WITH HIM HE’S JUST A GOOD SWIMMER

Omg I enjoy the drama of Sosuke interacting with the one (1) person in Japan who has seen Rin lately 

“I have to admit, I’m a little disappointed there isn’t a single pudgy person here” like I know this is probably gonna be a running gag for their opposite body preferences but it’s also a self-burn for the creators of this show only drawing different scales of one body type

I really do love that Rei is swim team captain now my boy has come so far

Oh Romio is there anyone in this swim universe that doesn’t have some kind of Traumatizing Swim Experience 

“Think about what your reason for jumping in is” Sosuke’s advice sounds like beautiful nonsense I don’t know how that’s supposed to help him concentrate on start times

Lmao I love this Overbearing Friend Gesture of Shizuru and Nagisa putting seaweed on Romio and Rei’s plates without asking kjhfkghfghfk

“Actually, if you don’t mind, we have a proposition” $500 says that Nagisa and Rei are about to propose a relay race

Update from 8 minutes later: Someone owes me $500

“Can you tell how proud I am?” Natsuya is such a good big brother <3

 Hahahaha “a guy he wants to swim with again some day” Natsuya is also a good wingman for Rin lmao

Based on his inner monologue Sosuke should also be a swimming coach except in the vein of Cryptic Trench Coat Stubble Man who just offers random unsolicited advice to any teenage swimmer he passes by in the street 

“I’m so proud of you” jgjhgjhg Shizuru I love you and your tears for Romio

What kind of child welfare laws are there in Japan that Hiyori’s parents were allowed to just leave him alone in the park

“When I saw [Haru] again, the weakness I thought I left behind came flooding back to me” the moral of this story is that competitive swimming makes you gay

Ikuya used to be fun and sweet lmao what made you so broody my dude

Lmao @ Hiyori being mad that Ikuya thinks of Haru as his Prince Eric instead of him 

Wow I love Nao being a guiding force for this group of nerds

“I’m not hearting anything for you” Asahi understands Stranger Danger

It took Ryuji a solid six eps to even get a name u’d expect him to have a more important character connection than Rin’s Swim Coach’s Rival

“Then you should start swimming other stuff” I Love Misaki, Adopted Child of Haru and Makoto 

Well this wistful playground vibe has taken a strange turn

“It’s none of your damn business okay!!” TONO JUST GOT DUMPED HA

KJGHKJGH THE RAGE IN HARU’S VOICE ABOUT THE MACKEREL

Ryuji: He can just buy me dinner or something. I’m not picky. As long as it’s not mackerel

Haru [through gritted teeth]: I’m ready when you are

AH I LOVE KISUMI AND ASAHI BABYSITTING TSUKUSHI

“After all we’ve been through, why does it have to be like this?” U MADE IT LIKE THIS HIYORI

HAHAHAHAH Makoto and Ryuji had a standoff of wills and Ryuji lost

“Maybe it’s time for you to approach things more seriously” Nao has declared it’s time to stop sowing your wild oats and settle down Natsuya

Kazuma only shows up to remind Sosuke he is free to run away to swim whenever

“Hope you’re well” “Hey relax I’m not your dad” [Natsuya immediately begins acting like their dad]

YEAHHHHHHHHHHHH GO HARU LEADING HIS CATEGORY

“I don’t think he’s all that bad of a guy” that’s Stockholm Syndrome Ikuya

I’m glad Ikuya is finally fucking having a meaningful conversation with his friends

“In the water I’m alone. No one’s gonna save me” Get therapy Ikuya!!!

Wow Haru joining a race purely to have an Emotional Confrontation with Ikuya is some kinda growth I’m just not sure what exactly

“That guy’s the only one anyone ever talks about” to be fair if your sample size is Iwatobi swimmers they are all a little in love with him

“That’s our BOYYYYYYYYYY” Aw Asahi <3 

Ghjkghk I love Makoto teasing Haru for being Ikuya’s hero

“Oh, you’re wise now?” AWWWW Ikuya is fun again good for him

 I know that Ikuya reaching out in friendship to Hiyori is supposed to be a sign of emotional security but I haven’t forgiven him for the way he’s manipulated Ikuya!!! Ur a seawitch not a Prince Eric!!! >:((((

I’m super thrown about them going straight from the qualifiers to the next race what will the last four episodes of this season be about

“I’ve been giving myself pep talks in the mirror. ‘I am a genius. I am a genius.’” HAHAHAHA I LIKE FUN IKUYA

“Looks like you beat me” “Just in free” Haru has released Ikuya into the universe for Hiyori and I don’t like it (for Ikuya’s sake) but that’s how it be I guess

How many siblings are there in the Mikoshiba family lmao there’s a new one every season 

“But gender doesn’t mean anything in a competition” I like u Lady Mikoshiba

“You mean you were Russian this whole time??” this is a lot to digest

I LOVE RIN’S PUDGY CAT STEVE LOL IS IT THE SAME IN JAPANESE

“The water likes you. I can tell” ALBERT PLS, Haru is already FULL-UP on homoerotic swim relationships

It’s killing me that they keep cutting to Makoto like Haru’s cheating on him though

Not to undermine the subplot of these last three episodes but hasn’t Haru... lost races before hgkjhgk

“I thought something soft and cute would help balance out that scary face of yours” omg STOP this cuteness 

Gghkhgk these flashbacks and Rin crying over Sosuke’s surgery are SO cute I never thought I would feel so proud of Rin way back in S1 he’s grown so much!!

Makoto being surrounded by ladybugs and butterflies like a wholeass Disney Prince

WHY are ALL of these swimming weirdos SOMEONE’S UNCLE

“You’re still as weird as ever, Haru’s the exact same way” I should start tracking how long in a conversation it takes characters to bring up Haru

Gnjghkjhg Makoto gets through to Haru in 0.5 seconds after two weeks of him ignoring his own coach. The power of fish metaphors and Love™

Kinda seems like they are setting it up like Makoto will also get to travel the world for swimming and let me say... I’m not mad about it

Update from like 2 minutes later: I WAS RIGHT

“That’s the evil king who wanted the magic lamp” the Arabian Nights references kill me every time 

Djkhdkjhd Ryuji labelling Mikhail in his phone as “Muscle Freak” that’s tru friendship

“You should say, ‘I’m totes hip with the kids, yo’” Ryuji pls 

“You’re so cute, you must be Iwatobi’s famous Kou” KHGKHGKJHKJ 3/3 MIKOSHIBA KNOCKOUT KOU

Awwwww Rei is so nervous for nationals my sweet baby boy

I ADORE that Rin and Haru are literally running across the city right before their most important meet bc they want to see their friends swim 

Rrgjhgr the one and only backstory in this show is former childhood friends and it applies to every single character

OMG Rei get his own flashback but with his boy Nagisa I love it

“I think he’d make a good rival for you actually” Makoto Tachibana: Rival Matchmaker

GOOD JOB BOYS U DID GOOD (ALSO TEAM PHOTO I WEEP)

“Try not to cry when I beat you” SOSUKEEEEEEEEEE

Wow this final episode is already clutching at my heart right out of the gate baby Haru 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Makoto letting four more boys pile into his one bedroom for the night bc he’s the Best Boy Alive

HJGHJKGH THIS EXCHANGE 

Mikhail: That’s what I call ‘totes hip with the kids’

Nearby youths: [Giggling]

Mikhail: [Soft indignant gasp] Ryuji!!

Natsuya and Ikuya have the cutest sibling relationship gjkghk THEY

The theme of this season is people hugging each other and crying over the lanes and I LOVE THAT 4 THEM

Rin and Haru and Makoto........... are good boys

“What is this, some kind of teen drama” that is exactly it, Rin

“He won’t stop talking about stupid crap like friendship and bonds” I love three (3) boys

Bonus: Out of Order Liveblog of Free! Take Your Marks + S3E0

Haru dropping his pants in Makoto’s apartment without the immediate context of them being near water was the most high stakes moment in this entire anime I had no idea where that was going

Haru leaving his apartment hunting until the day before he moves: Mood

Sidenote: Makoto and Haru going apartment hunting is domestic as HELL I love it

“The two of you are inseparable, huh?” “We’re friends, deal with it.” Let people be gay Kisumi 

Lmao @ Nagisa and Rei’s yoga pose video Iwatobi is the cutest swim team in the world 

“Then one day even those tears will dry out in the Tokyo desert” who hurt you, Ms. Amakata 

“Allow me to welcome you to Tokyo, the city where love and lust intertwine” Free! Love and Lust could really be a subtitle of this anime lmao

“I’m talking about the whole bunkbed situation, you know, top and bottom” lmao shout-out to Sloane for that one art

I love the wordless communication between Makoto and Haru (and for that matter, Sosuke and Rin) I’m so glad they worked things out

I’m also happy Rin and Kou are cool now they used to have quite a gap

“Rin wasn’t that honest with himself” rjghg Rin and Haru miss each other

“This is the one,” said Haru, next to Makoto, His Completely Platonic Best Friend Who Dreams About Them Sharing An Apartment and Dropping Trou

I LOVE STEVE THE FAT CAT. AN ICON. A BEAUTY. CHUNKY BABY

“The treasure is inside the red shark’s mouth” there is DEFINITELY a Rin joke to be made here and the writers knew it

I don’t know what I love about this more that Aii and Momo are TERRIBLE at scheming or that that they are throwing Rin and Sosuke together on White Day lmao

This team vacation... Sosuke giggling bc he was tickled... !!!!!!! THANKS

I’m loving all these teams getting presents for each other jkhgkjg

Oh am I finally going to understand this Momo and Capybara backstory

Lol @ Natsuya pouring his heart abt Nao to Sosuke wholly unsolicited

“What were you about to ask” “Oh, not anything important (I’ll wait for you Sosuke)”

OHHHHHHHHHH THE CHARM BACKSTORY SOSUKEEEEEEEEEE

Oh Christ alive am I about to watch the Arabian Nights recruitment film

Hhhgjgjhg I gather the only reason Haru got his license was to compete with Rin

“I’m the evil king who is after the lamp for his own selfish reasons” I hate this... but also... I love this???

“I am a mysterious peddler. I travel carrying mysterious bundles. While riding atop of my mysterious partner Chappy the Camel” HARU STOP

OH MAKOTO HONEY U POOR SOUL JHGKHFKJGH 

“Makoto. When I’m nervous I think about mackerel” I am going to expire

“I think the three of you should implement your own version of it” Fhjkhgk Haru is telling them to exploit their bodies for school recruitment but also that’s not really anything new so fair enough

Nagisa: Rei is Perfect Killer Muscles Handsome in my heart!!!!!!

“Maybe I’m never going to understand him” Omg @ The Jilted Middle School Exes of Haru Club

“How David had to give up his love.... And then Veronica, knowing they couldn’t see each other anymore” call me crazy but I think Rin is projecting his own issues onto A Rat’s Life LMAO

Tjehjkhkje Sosuke needing to call Rin bc he got lost on his way to the bathroom... Useless Husband Energy

HAHAH Rin is so upset thinking Momo and Kou are dating

At least Rin recognizes that he doesn’t get to decide who Kou dates he can only express his approval or disapproval

“Momotaru Mikoshiba is a man who lives by passion” gjhgjhg stop this

“Rin would never lose to a persimmon, ever!” MAKOTO R U OK

“You are not less than a persimmon!” THESE BOYS. U R SO DUMB BUT ALSO GET U A FRIEND LIKE THE IWATOBI SWIM CLUB

“It’s cool if you need to cry” “If you stay in the pool no one will ever notice your tears” I LOVE SOSUKE AND HARU TEAMING UP TO TEASE RIN

I also deeply appreciate that even though I’ve never heard their Japanese voices I know exactly who is saying what line in this outro just by dialogue and tone of voice

+

“I have a crippling fear of mascot costumes” “Then why did you take this job” kjhgkjhgkjh if that isn’t a work mood 

Wait... if Makoto is going to be the substitute wrestler... WILL HARU BE THE SUBSTITUTE MASCOT AHHHHHHHH

WAIT NO I HAVE GRAVELY AND HILARIOUSLY MISUNDERSTOOD MAKOTO IS GOING TO BE BOTH MASCOT AND WRESTLER

“Iwa means ‘boulder’ and ‘tobi’ means ‘black kite’ so it’s a boulder-headed bird!!” Well that’s more of an explanation for the appearance of the Iwatobi mascot than I ever expected, Nagisa

“You don’t have a crippling fear of mascot costumes, do you?” No but I have feeling Makoto is about to develop one

Oh it’s THIS FUCKPUDDLE who asked u to be here Hiyori

“I don’t exactly hate it” high praise Ikuya lmao

Thkjhtkjh I love Natsuya’s long distance relationship it’s sweet 

HAHAHA is the beak thing supposed to be a ploy so people see Makoto’s face

“I cannot let Haru see me like this” “Hi Makoto” HAHAHAHAH I LOVE THIS WHOLE INTERACTION AND ALSO HOW HARU JUST GOES ALONG WITH ALL OF IT

Also I don’t know how Makoto was planning to hide his identity after he was addressed as “Mr. Tachibana”

LMAO @ MAKOTO BEING RECOGNIZED BY HIS LEG MUSCLES I’M SCREAMING

“Hey Makoto, use a backstroke!!” HARU PLEASE

“Well done, you’ll be a great mascot someday” “Thanks? I think?” This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen and I loved it

Oh my goooood Haru bringing Makoto presents for his siblings.... they have ascended to the college relationship levels of Natsuya and Nao

Man Ikuya could not radiate stronger “leave me alone” vibes 

“Wow you boys make a dashing pair” you said it Suit Lady not me 

[echotovalley]

klance au month day 1: coffee shop It's like the first time when we open the door - before we got used to usual

Lance checked the schedule in the back to make sure he had the day right before glancing up at the security camera feed by the front door, mentally willing a human shape to fall in front of the sunlight beaming in through the glass doors.

“Isn’t the new guy supposed to be here?”

Without looking away from the computer screen as she opened the day and responded to corporate emails, Allura rolled her eyes. “I know you must have that schedule memorized by now, Lance, so I know you know his name is Keith. And he informed me yesterday he would be a few minutes late due to a prior responsibility.”

Lance snorted and leaned back in the rolly chair he sat in. “That sure is a fancy way to say he hit the snooze button because he just didn’t want to get up.”

This time, Allura clicked her tongue and turned a look on him. “More like, it’s none of your business and hey, don’t you have a café to open?”

He flopped back in the chair dramatically and placed his hand over his chest. “You wound me, princess.” Lance caught Allura’s knowing smile as she turned back to her computer and hummed in acknowledgment.

“But you got it.” He shot finger guns at her even though she wasn’t looking and propelled himself out of the chair to reach for one of the aprons hung up outside of the office in their back room. “So, I guess I’m training him?”

“Until Pidge gets here as a mid, then she will take over while you man the register.”

“Ah, you mean I don’t get to break in the new guy?”

Allura huffed and rubbed her fingers over her temples. “Please do not use that phrase. I don’t need the mental image and I don’t want him to think he’s going to be hazed. He’s Shiro’s younger brother and I hired him because I know my coffee shop wouldn’t chew him up and spit him out like the last one did. So please, Lance, please please please, do not run him off.”

Lance finished tying his apron and placed his hands on his hips. “Aw, you know I can’t say no to you when you call me Lonce.”

“Lance.”

“Going now!”

He dutifully did as he was told by the gracious and reigning queen of their café and started brewing the medium and dark roasts, double checked the dates on the bakery goods, and started in on making the fuck ton of frappe base they’re going to need to supply the college student masses on the temperature record-setting Spring day. If there was anything Lance had down pat as an employee it was unmatched focus and killer playlists he listened to while he got down to it.

Which was why it was the sound of Allura’s clipped tone over the intercom system and not the beating fists on the double doors that gave him the heads up the new kid was here and wanted to be let in.

So sue him.

By the time he got to doors, there was a catty scowl targeted in his direction. Lance flipped the lock on the door and opened it for the guy to duck in.

“Took you long enough.”

Lance scoffed as he flipped the lock and pulled on the door to make sure it was secure. “Good morning to you too, sunshine. Allura’s in the back.”

“I know.”

He glared at Keith’s retreating back. Apparently, the award-winning personality and smile was not a shared family trait between this guy and Shiro. Looking beyond the bad haircut - or lack thereof - and frown lines, he couldn’t pick up on any family resemblance between the two brothers.

Allegedly.

He turned up the volume on his phone and went back to scrubbing the dishes. Brother-In-Law apparent or not, Allura would nip his bad attitude in the bud before the doors opened for the day. So at least that would be a decent consolation prize for dealing with the grizzly bridge troll that was Keith’s morning manner.

New Guy came out a few minutes later with a name tag and in one of the pressed aprons with the coffee shop's name in looping letters across the breast as he worked to tie his hair back as he approached Lance. “Do guys have any specials today?”

Lance washed the stem to the steamer on the espresso machine and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, survive and no crying into the chai.”

“Oookay?”

“So what do you know?”

“Aboout?”

When silence met him Lance turned back to Keith and frowned. “About coffee? How to make drinks?”

“Oh, I think I got it. I worked at the cafe in Lowertown, can’t be that hard.”

“Didn’t you guys specialize in boba tea?”

“We also had coffee.” Keith crossed his arms and tapped his foot anxiously. “Did I do something to piss you off? Because you’re acting kind of...”

“Kind of what?”

“Short. If it’s about being late, look I’m sorry. It’s not gonna happen again. Not that it’s any of your business or you’re the boss or anything.”

“If you’re looking to improve your shitty first impression with the café lead, you’re not doing a great job, dude.”

“We don’t even know each other.”

Lance turned the music off on his phone and unmuted the cafe playlist on the small radio beneath the counter. He brushed past Keith and the swinging doors of the kitchen to open the front doors for the day as Ellie Goulding’s soft voice filled the quiet.

Maybe he was being a little unreasonable to the outside eye, but Lance considered himself a pretty good judge of character. And there was definitely something off about this Keith guy’s energy that didn’t vibe with him. Like he didn’t have to practically spit on Lance when he opened the door for him. Yeah, it’s frustrating to not have a coworker hear you knocking on the door for an extended period of time, but he could have just said hey and moved on.

“Took you long enough.”

Geez, he was probably one of those types that thought he had it all in spades because he was related to the boss.

Well, not on Lance McClain’s watch.

By the time Pidge came in, the café had seen a steady flow of its regulars and Lance did a fantastic job of introducing each one of them to the new kid without a slip of sarcasm or irritation - he would like to thank the academy.

He even went so far as to warn Keith about which ones could be overly chatty and unintentionally keep him tied up in conversation if he wasn’t careful and any particulars they had with their drinks. From that, he learned that Keith’s whole thing seemed positive or negative twists on dismissive. The positive would be a slight scrunch of his eyebrows, the negative would involve some level of scrunching up his nose and furrowing his eyebrows. Scrunching and furrowing were almost the same, it was the nose thing that set them apart.

Which, okay kind of endearing, but wholly a little annoying if Lance was being honest.

Would it kill the guy to speak?

And not just the single syllable cryptic song and dance routine that was borderline robotic.

What would it take to get a full sentence out of this guy?

Pidge slid into her spot in the kitchen and took over training, showing Keith where stuff was, the trick to get the freezer open, etc. and it was like a switch. Lance could hear clear up to the register Keith’s laughter and his voice dipping and raising and monotoning in complete sentences. So again -

What the fuck?

What had he done to get the cold shoulder?

If anyone should be serving ice, it was Lance. He was the one that caught Keith’s attitude for no good reason.

Whatever.

With any luck, he’d be there for a month before bailing and they could go back to the previous harmony they once enjoyed.

Shift no. 8 with Keith Kogane.

He rarely left the back if he didn’t need to clean a table or refill the condiment stations, so Lance’s focus immediately snapped from the cup in his hand - halfway through writing a customer’s name on the sleeve - when Keith swept through the swinging doors and made a beeline for the table an older woman sat flipping through a magazine. There was a bowl in his hands and Lance knew for a fact that the woman hadn’t ordered any food, he would know since he was the guy that rang in her order.

A throat cleared and Lance was yanked back to the customer still standing in front of him with their eyebrows raised in question.

“Sorry, spaced out there for a second.” He used his best script on the cup and asked if they wanted whip cream on it (free of charge since he was totally doing his best to bribe them with it).

Lance moved to the grinder and started cranking out the espresso beans to put into the machine while Keith was still talking with the one customer. Because of the grinder doing its thing and buzz from the cooler and music, he couldn’t hear their conversation. It was a lot of guessing on his end as the woman glanced up from her magazine as Keith asked her something, he could see the tips of Keith’s ears pink from where his hair was pulled back. Keith gestured to the mysterious bowl in his hands, to the woman, down to the service dog at her feet, topped off with the tensest shoulder shrug Lance had ever seen.

And that was saying something.

Keith was a pretty tense person as a default setting.

Lance transferred the scoop of espresso to the machine and placed the cup under it before punching the buttons and smoothly sliding to another end of the kitchen to get a better view of whatever Keith was doing.

The woman smiled and Lance watched as what had to be at least 20 years of tension leave Keith in a whoosh as his shoulders lifted and he smiled.

Honest to god smiled.

Like second grader on picture day and actually enjoying it for once kind of smile. Exactly the kind Lance was weak for.

He watched Keith set the bowl down in front of the dog and quietly excused himself before he left the table and came back around into the kitchen.

When he burst through the door his eyes met Lance’s and the tension was back. He scrunched his brows and looked off at a random corner of the ceiling, puffing a breath out to ruffle his bangs.

“It’s hot out today and I asked the owner if it was okay to give the dog some water. I want them to know I think they’re doing a good job.”

Lance felt his mouth work around forming words, but nothing was coming out. He blinked as he watched Keith take the cup of espresso out from the machine and pick up where Lance had left off.

Shift no. 34 with Keith Kogane.

“You know, if you’re going to offer to open, the least you could do is actually bother to do it right.” Lance agitatedly tied his apron behind his waist and grabbed a box of bar towels off a shelf.

“Wh- Do it right?! I did!”

“Hm, nope.”

“Are you kidding me? I did everything on the list!”

“Yeah, half-assed.”

Keith punched his numbers into the register and shoved through the kitchen doors onto the floor with enough force for one to bang against the wall. “Bullshit, Lance.”

Shift no. 14 with Keith Kogane.

“Here, try this.”

Keith glanced down at the steaming cup being pushed toward him across the counter. His eyes flitted back up to Lance’s before going back to the cup. “Why?”

“Allura lets me experiment with drinks and if it’s good, she’ll let me offer it as a weekend special - if we’re not too busy, it isn’t obscenely difficult to reproduce by any of the other workers, and we have enough ingredients for our menu items first.”

“I, uh-”

Lance scoffed and folded his arms. “Dude, it’s not poisoned, quit looking like it’s gonna burn a hole through the cup and counter like acid. Besides, if it’s bad, you get the first honor of telling me so.”

Keith reached for the drink, flashing one of the smirks Lance was still learning the ins and outs of. “Well, I do really enjoy telling you when you’re wrong.”

“Good to see I picked such a gracious first contestant. Oh wait!” Lance lunged forward and took the cup from Keith’s hands, inches from his mouth. He popped the lid off and grabbed for the shaker with cinnamon in it, topping it off with a few generous shakes before flourishing it back to Keith.

Keith rolled his eyes, the corner of his mouth tipping up as he reached back for the cup and took a hesitantly small sip of it. Lance watched in anticipation as Keith considered it, deemed it safe for consumption, and took a bigger drink. Lance grinned as he watched Keith’s eyes get a little bit bigger. He lowered the cup and stared at it for a moment.

“Fuck, I really, really like telling you when you’re wrong, but this is actually really good.”

Lance laughed and bowed. “You’re welcome.”

Shift no. 20 with Keith Kogane.

“Here.”

Lance turned the tap water off and grabbed a bar towel to dry his hands before turning to Keith and taking the cup offered out in his hands.

Keith worried his bottom lip between his teeth as Lance popped the lid off of the cold cup and sniffed at the drink. “It’s not poisoned. It’s something I threw together a few years ago at the last cafe I worked at, my boss put it on the menu, but it’s cool if you don’t like it.”

Shift no. 9 with Keith Kogane.

If Lance had to make one more frappe he was going to throw up.

Every college-age group shuffling through the door was just another nail in his coffin. It was truly shaping up to be a shift from hell as he was taken off register and placed in the kitchen for Keith to put some miles in on it. They just seemed to keep getting busier - no one else was available to come in or come in earlier while Allura was on a conference call and Lance wanted to die.

If they could suddenly get people that just all so happened to want what they had already brewed or an Americano, that would be great.

Or if he could take a break and get a change of scenery with the register, that would be good too.

Because, to be honest, if he had to overhear Keith have one more social interaction that didn’t quite land, he was going to lose it. It shouldn’t be that hard. Razzle dazzle them with a smile, ask how they are, if they want any extras on their drink, insert any offhand small talk comment, crank the smile up a bit and assure them their order will be up in a moment and that’s it.

The indifferent cool guy routine wasn’t exactly the usual coffee shop demeanor around here. Maybe it worked for the campy, pretentious gig Keith had before but Allura tended to like a more mainstream brand of atmosphere - even if they were lying through their teeth. Lance was almost 100% positive that it took Keith more energy to do whatever the hell he was doing over the polite smile and scripted dialogue every service industry tended to regurgitate on its employees.

Not that Allura was one of those bosses and they were technically an independent coffee shop, but a lot of the base principles were the same.

A break in the line finally afforded Keith and Lance to get through the orders and catch their breath. Keith politely scooted the tip jar off of the counter to rifle through it, he plucked out someone’s straw wrapper and cursed them to step in gum in the parking lot before getting to a folded piece of paper tucked inside of a dollar bill.  Lance bit the inside of his cheek as Keith opened the paper, revealing a girl’s name and phone number.

Lance grabbed the paper, inspecting it. “Y’know, Allura doesn’t like it when we flirt with the customers.”

Keith snatched the paper back, crumpling it up and throwing it into the trash can. “Except I wasn’t and I’m gay.”

Shift no. 23 with Keith Kogane.

“It’s very easy to see that somehow you and Keith got off on the wrong foot.”

“That’s putting it lightly, ‘Llura.”

Allura sighed and turned in her office chair to face Lance fully. “I don’t know why or how you two found just the right buttons to push with each other in such a short amount of time, but something has to give.”

Lance spun in his chair and picked at a loose thread in his pants. “Did Keith tell you ‘bout this? Because the adult thing would have been to say something to my face.”

“Keith didn’t say anything, Lance. Anyone could smell the tension off of the two of you in the next county. Neither of you is the least bit subtle. You’re incredibly alike, I had hoped you two would have been good together between your combined work experience and personalities I’d expected to mesh better.” Allura tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear and looked Lance over. “Obviously, you two enjoy defying the odds. Two seconds in the door and you were ready to butt heads.”

Lance’s chair came to an abrupt halt, the wheels screeched against the floor. “If you knew about that then he did say something.”

“No, Lance.” Allura gestured up to the computer monitor with the security camera feed. “I watched you let him in that morning. I’ve known both of you now for several years and am well familiar with your body language. I should have addressed this with you two sooner, but I had hoped you would fix it yourself.”

“So, are you gonna fire us?”

Allura clicked her tongue, swatting Lance’s knee playfully. “Of course not. Consider it a soft intervention before I become officially disappointed.”

“Uggh, okay. Okay, alright, geez. You know I hate that word. We’ll work on it.”

Allura laughed, turning her chair back to her computer and booting it up. “Then don’t make me use it.

Shift no. 89 with Keith Kogane.

It was rare that he closed and from what he knew from Keith’s availability, he didn’t close either. So, it was a bit of surprise when Keith came bustling into the back room for an apron right before shift switch. Lance did a double take between the schedule sheet and Keith, raising his eyebrows because right there it was the entire time. It would be him, Keith, and two other people for the rest of the night.

The shift went a lot better than he expected, Keith was a solidly adept closer - not always a common occurrence when someone usually works the day shift.

As Lance locked the doors behind them for the night, Keith waited for him before walking out into the parking lot. It took him a minute to compute the number of cars left in the parking lot with the number of people - the other two employees were getting into their cars and pulling off by the time he reached his own car and whirled around to catch sight of Keith walking down the sidewalk.

“What is he doing?” Lance scratched his head, before dropping his hand and lifting his face up to the sky. “Oh my god, he’s going to be murdered.”

He got in his car and quickly caught up to Keith, slowly driving his car beside the sidewalk. “Dude, what are you doing?”

Keith looked over his shoulder and Lance knew before he even opened his mouth how much sass was about to be thrown his way - could hear the tone clear as a bell in his head. “Going home.”

“Duh, but like - where’s your car?”

“In the shop. I’m headed for the bus stop and, not to be rude, but I gotta be quick if I’m going to make the stop in time.” Keith readjusted the bag on his back and faced forward again.

“No, c’mon. I’m not going to let you do that.”

“Hm, but you can’t actually stop me so...”

“Listen, I’m not about to let your dead body weigh on my conscious for the rest of my life. That causes stress and stress causes premature wrinkles and I’m too beautiful to wrinkle prematurely. Get in, I’ll give you a ride.”

He saw Keith mistep, his body freezing up before shuffling forward faster. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Do you want me to call Allura? Do you know who Allura lives with?”

At that, Keith squared his shoulders and turned back to glare at Lance. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would, actually. And I have Allura on speed dial so, you better be quick.”

“Why do you have Allura on speed dial?”

“Oh look at that, my call app is open, I’m pressing the number four, and-”

Keith swore and lunged for the passenger side door, flinging it open and plopping into the seat before closing the door. Lance’s grin was so wide it was actually starting to hurt a little after a long shift of it, but the sheer look of panic on Keith’s face was more than worth it.

“Cool. What’s your address?”

“I’m not giving you my address, you’re just going to drive me to the bus stop.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Nope, don’t think so.”

“Lance.”

“Keith.”

“Lance.”

“Look, I can go all night, dude. If you don’t tell me your address, I’m just gonna go to my place where we can have an impromptu sleepover and you can meet my roommate Hunk and my cat and we’ll watch Netflix and you’ll be a prisoner to our hospitality and an unmatched, whole-ass breakfast with your choice of pancakes or waffles.”

They came to stop at a red light, thirty feet from the bus stop when the locks clicked into place as Keith reached for the door.

“Gotta be quicker than that, Kogane.”

Keith flopped back in the seat and watched as they passed the bus stop. “Oh, do you normally kidnap people with false pretenses?”

Lance jerked in his seat, checking his rearview mirror as he switched lanes before glancing back to Keith. “Y’know I’m not gonna like murder you or anything, right? Like we had our false starts, but I don’t hate you or anything. I don’t even dislike you. I actually enjoy working with you. And if you don’t feel comfortable telling me your address, I can drop you off at Shiro and Allura’s. It’s just - the bus stops can get sketchy this time of night and I obviously don’t know where you live, so I don’t know what parts of town you’d be passing through and if I could have kept you from getting stabbed or murdered, then I want to.”

“You do realize I can take care of myself, right? I’m an adult. I’ve had to ride the bus before. And I work out with Shiro, so I can more than hold my own against anyone that comes along.”

He felt Keith’s eyes on him, the scrutiny a little more than unnerving because he did several stupid things in rapid succession: underestimated Keith, almost admitted more than he should, and locked Keith in his car and said he wouldn’t murder him even though that’s probably exactly what murderers say.

Keith sighed, Lance saw him shaking his head in his peripheral vision. “I live off Pine Street on Avondale. It’s the apartment complex at the end of the road.”

Lance nodded and switched lanes again to turn into a parking lot and go back in the right direction of Keith’s place.

“And Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t dislike you either.”

Lance woke up on Keith’s last day at the café feeling a goopy, bittersweet sap weighing heavy and thick on his chest because he was dramatic and after two years a little worried that their workplace is what held up their communication and connection.

He can’t be blamed for that, Keith’s forgetful as hell and Lance can come off strong. He’s nothing if not self-aware.

It was going to be super weird not having Keith there to sneak his way to Lance’s phone and switch the playlist for his own or not having the comforting scent of espresso and Keith’s shampoo buzzing in his head.

The latter thing was a little creepy, but he couldn’t help it.

He had tried.

Didn’t work.

And it had been two years, and Keith was quitting because he finally got a graphic design job that would put his degree to use. He’d be making a lot better money there than a minimum wage food industry gig, so Lance should be happy for him.

“I can hear you overthinking.”

Lance scrubbed a hand through his hair and scoffed. “Well, excuse me, your majesty. Forgive me for interrupting your beauty sleep, but it’s like the end of an era. This is where we find out whether we got along just because we had the same work environment and hung out as much as we did because we got scheduled together so often.”

Keith turned over, hooking his chin over Lance’s shoulder and turning his face in to brush his nose along Lance’s neck. “The café was the start, we’ve got everywhere else to go now.”

Lance groaned and turned over in bed, dragging Keith to him in an armful of blankets. He pressed his mouth to the hollow of Keith’s throat, trying valiantly to fight and hide a smile. “Don’t get romantic on me at 7 a.m., you know how I get.”

Keith smoothed his hand over the worn cotton of Lance’s t-shirt, ducking his face into Lance’s bedhead. “Is a new era okay?”

He pulled back and studied Keith, he brushed his long bangs away from his face. Lance kissed Keith then, a quick, innocent thing turned something longer and indulging as Keith moved for a better angle and Lance swiped his tongue over the seam of Keith’s lips. Hands wound tighter and legs tangled further, the soft whisper of sheets breaking the quiet of the morning as they shifted as close as they could be.

Anything together would be good.

a/n: I work in a place that has a café and I am ~~barely~~ café trained. I’m v good at making bean water and nothing else - well, except ice water. also I realize there might be conflicting thoughts on the service dog thing, but this was based on something that happened in the cafe where I work and is probably not considered the right etiquette. so disclaimer to always be respectful of animals on the job and be aware to what the owner needs and is comfortable with. klancetober didn’t go...great or anywhere for me after like prompt 3 or 4. but I’m nothing if not foolishly...yeah, that’s it. I’m a fool. a fool that refuses to learn a lesson so here’s klance au month that literally no one requested but my other stories going nowhere so here we are lol

[last-flight-of-fancy]

fatedeniedhope replied to your post “* sees people confused over various kh plot points * * is not people i...”

I would like yo know a bit. Only play kh 1 and chain of memories and half way to kh 2

oh boy there is a *lot* to cover here then!

I don’t mean that to sound intimidating, kh just has a tendency for long, sprawling interconnected plots (many of which are still unresolved even now)

i am also doing this entirely by memory, so if i’ve skimmed something i shouldn’t have its because my brain has stopped registering it as important; feel free to ask for clarification, i wrote this in one sitting because i was avoiding doing laundry XD

putting a cut because i am overviewing a Lot of game here and tbh there’s still a lot of stuff i am skimming or skipping entirely. I’m just trying to hit the highlights.

i don’t know where you stopped in 2, so i’m just gonna give a brief overview

-there is a boy named roxas

-he’s being hunted by these strangers called nobody’s

-things get weird

-turns out he’s sora’s nobody, as nobody’s are created when a person is turned into a heartless (which sora did during kh1)

-roxas returns to sora (”looks like my summer vacation is.. over...” whoops there goes my heart) and normal sora gameplay resumes.

-DIDNEY WORLDS

-turns out everyone forgot sora for a year bc of what happened in chain of memories (and also 358/2. dont worry about that yet we’ll get there). kairi sends out a bottle to “the boy she can’t remember” trying to call him home. (yes this is important)

-organization 13 (all what? eight of them left?) pops up, xemnas is cryptic, and they say their goal is to recreate kingdom hearts via sora killing heartless, since apparently only killing heartless with a keyblade sends the trapped hearts to Kingdom Hearts

      -this version of the tale persists through 358 as well. it’s.. half right.

-bla bla bla, shenanigans. there’s ansem (the boss from kh1) and a guy named diz. That isn’t who either of them actually are. It’s actually Riku (who tapped too far into the darkness trying to capture roxas for the whole twilight town scenario at the beginning of the game, thus altering his appearance to look like the guy who posessed him for a bit) and THE ACTUAL ANSEM (ie, the ruler(?) of radient garden before it fell, and the guy heartless ansem stole his name from.

-anyways

-sora goes off searching for riku, bc as far as he knows, he’s still lost out in the darkness.

-he’s not, he’s fine, but he’s super embarrassed about the whole ‘looking like the enemy’ thing and won’t let sora find him.

-sora casually murders most of the remaining organization members (only most of whom shot first)

-this continues on until axel attempts to kidnap kairi, who ends up in twilight town for a bit hanging out with the hayner/pence/ollete trio, before being slightly more successfully kidnapped a second time.

-and then she gets kidnapped again by saix. Axel apologises to sora over this. in his defence, he’s pretty desperate at this point (he just wants his friend(s) back)

-sora storms The World That Never Was, kairi is rescued by Namine.

-the trio finally meets up (namine disapeared at some point? yknow, i actually dont recall what happened to her in between these scenes), sora and kairi share a slightly awkward but sweet hug, and after a moments trepidation over ‘Ansem’, kairi tells/shows him its riku, at which point sora bursts into tears.

-i ship a lot of ot3′s, but sorikai is the OG ot3

-anyways

-namine and roxas have a very symbolic moment refusing with their Other’s, Namine opens a portal back to destiny islands so they can go home.

-everyone except sora and riku make it through, and thus commences several final fantasy style boss fights

-they win, of course, riku’s injured in the line of battle, and they limp out, having traversed several realms during the course of this battle, they’re now trapped on a beach in the realm of darkness. it’s the same beach everyone else seems to end up on in this place. There is only one beach in the RoD apparently

-they stay there a while, and then they pick up a message in a bottle; it’s from kairi, “to the boy she can’t remember”

-Feelings make a door to the light open, and sora and riku fall like actual comets from the sky and everybody’s reunited and happy. huzzah!

-.... well for a while anyways.

-should i get into the whole xemnas/xehanort/ansem thing here?

-eh

-okay so

-lets swing back into Birth By Sleep for a bit

-(im sorry if kh can’t hit any of its plot points in order i think its fair neither do i)

-BBS takes place roughly nine years prior to kh1, with the exception of bbs’s prologue, which i would estimate as being an additional four years prior to that

-during said prologue, we meet Master Xehanort, an incredibly old dude with brown skin, gold eyes, and a white beard. even newcomers to the series will probably recognise that only one type of person gets those colours in these games.

-we also meet baby Ventus, Xehanorts apprentice. He looks exactly like Roxas.

-shenanigans happen, Xehanort splits Ven’s heart in two, creating Vanitas, who is Ventus’s darkness.

-Vanitas’ whole shtick is he wants to be reunited with Ventus, ostensibly to create the X-blade (yes it’s pronounced exactly the same as ‘keyblade’ and yes, every single kh fan ive ever talked to has found this annoying af)

-unfortunately being split in two like that puts ven in a coma, and xehanort takes the unresponiseve body to destiny islands to dump it like unwanted ravioli

-luckily for ven, “a brand new hear” hears his hurt and reaches out to help, filling out the gaps left in his and allowing him to start recovering

-the heart is sora

-actual, literal baby sora reaching out to help people before he can even walk yet. 

-the game never spells this out explicitly, which makes it an easy plot point to miss if you aren’t paying attention

-ven doesn’t recover immidietly though, and xehanort sends him to live with his old friend Master Eraqus and his two teenage apprentices, Aqua and Terra

-here’s where we time skip, ventus is fully recovered, terra and aqua are young adults and about to take their Mark Of Mastery exams for becoming keyblade masters.

-Terra fails because he has darkness in his heart and also xehanort rigged it against him

-aqua passes and becomes a master. I love her very much.

-terra journey’s out to try and figure out where the darkness comes from

-vanitas taunts ven saying terra’s leaving him bc ven’s stupid or something and ven panics and chases after him (he’s like 14 and has a bit of a hero worship thing, stupid decisions are par for the course)

-eraqus sends aqua out to both spy on terra (he words it nicer but thats the gist of it), which aqua doesn’t particularly like but trusts her masters judgement and does it, and bring ventus home, which she is more on board with

-the biggest tragedy in bbs is that no one talks to each other

-stuff happens, they learn some stuff, aqua’s route has So Many Lesbian Feels with every single princess she runs into it brings me great delight

-Ventus learns the whole ‘fight your darkness to become the X-blade’ plot, eraqus learns this too and tries to kill ven. Terra busts in at the last moment and saves ven, at this point using his dark powers fully.

-#terrawasright

-eraqus dies, which i don’t think terra fully intended to do (he just wanted to save ven) and if you recall the scene in kh1 where kairi catches a falling sora only for him to burst into a bunch of floating glitter? imagine that but with two grown men

-aqua’s just trying to figure out whats going on. she gets to meet kairi (saves her from some heartless and then puts a charm on her necklace to keep her safe) and then meets Mickey, who will be our future duex ex machina

-they all meet for the final battle.

-ven asks his friends to murder him

-no one does that

-what the fuck ven

-they fight, and a lot of stuff sorta happens at the same time

-1: terra fights xehanort, who has essentially been spending the whole game prepping terra to be his next host. xehanort is a body snatcher confirmed. xehanort wins, terra becomes the fanon-named terranort.

-2: ventus fights vanitas. vanitas reveals his face, and he looks exactly like a colour swapped version of sora. (also voiced by the same voice actor! it’s actually surprsingly difficult to notice this if you don’t have some kind of clue already because haley joel osment does and *amazing* job). ventus wins, the X-blade is not forged, but as a lot of this battle takes place in his heart, the effects are bad and ven falls into a coma (he reaches out once more, and another hearts answers. “you can stay here a while, I don’t mind” says the other heart. yes its fucking sora again. too good, too pure)

-3: aqua gets knocked out to start with, but then she fights vanitas controlling ventus’ body, which eventually gets sorted out. terra’s dissapeared at this point, and she takes a comatose ven and hides him in the land of departure, which she uses a secret mechanism to turn into Castle Oblivion (and thus, impossible to navigate  without her key)

-aqua goes to hunt down terra(nort), and finds him in radiant garden. they fight, aqua wins, but when he begins to sink into the darkness she sacrifices herself to save him (which is how he ends up as one of ansem’s apprentices and mostly without any memories)

-aqua will spend the next ten years in the realm of darkness

-bbs is such a goddam tragedy

-OKAY

-time to fast forward

-so sora and ven are connected, which is why vanitas and roxas look the way they do, which brings us to

-the case of xion

-and 358/2

-the worst game to play but my absolute favourite in terms of slow-burn pacing and emotionally investing you in the characters

-this game pretty much just deals with the year sora spent asleep, and the kids time in the organization.

-roxas wakes up with no memories, is inducted into the org, and told “kill heartless with your keyblade”. He’s more or less a zombie at first, and accepts this without question.

-a week later, a new member is introduced, named Xion, who also has a keyblade, and is also a zombie with no memories at first

-Axel, the org’s assassin, is basically told to babysit them both

-he’s not really into it at first, but those natural Big Brother instincts kick in Hard about five minutes later and from that point on he’s mostly just trying to keep them both alive.

-oh, also Lea, Axel’s somebody, met Ventus in bbs, so that was probably a little weird for him.

-as the game goes on and these kids essentially learn how to human and try to figure out what makes them different, the Big Plots stew in the background. Axel and Saix have some kind of plan that Axel apparently isn’t sticking to, and Axel questions his loyalties more as the game goes on and circumstances force him to choose between two kids Who Did Nothing Wrong, and his oldest friend.

-Xion learns they are a replica, a la Repliku, created as a backup to roxas if he could not fulfil his duty in creating kingdom hearts. their connection with roxas, and through him sora, has the unintended side effect of flitering memories and feelings into and through Xion.

-this is why putting sora back together takes so long

-Xion, between the pressure of being an org member in general, and the mental load from being caught between three+ people in a very literal sense, has a breakdown. Riku finds them, and despite a pretty rocky start between them, helps them through it.

-Xion leaves at two different points, the first time, Axel brings them back. “please don’t hold back, Axel. Promise.” “Everyone always thinks they’re right”

-excuse me i have to lay down again after thinking about how emotionally wrought this scene is.

-(the alternative is he has to kill them. he does everything he can to avoid that, but it’s clearly approaching an unsustainable situation; the org is running out of patience for dealing with the ‘clearly defective replica’, xion doesnt feel this situation is right, and axel just wants to keep everyone alive.

-yes typing ‘clearly defective replica’ physically hurt me. xion is a perfect bab and xemnas can fite me

-Xion leaves again

-Roxas, learning pieces of this but not all, runs away from the org. cue titular “no one would me” “that’s not true!” scene from 2

-(this leads to what is a hilariously depressing scene of roxas on the clocktower looking at his life and going “where could i even run to? I havent got anywhere to go” because he’s never known anything other than the organization and whoops i made myself sad again)

-namine explains to xion that sora can never wake up so long as they have his memories. The only way for them to release the memories is to die. It’s a hard decision.

-Xion meets roxas on the clocktower, feigns insanity, and goads him into fighting them (”do you see my face, roxas? is it a boys face? don’t you see. I have to make you a part of me too.”)

-cue more ff style boss fights

-xion dies

-look i can’t go into detail on this one i’ll start crying again, xion dies, everyone forgets they ever existed, and roxas gets to watch them shatter into dust in his arms.

-in the brief period where the memories are quickly vanishing but Not Quite Gone Yet roxas goes into a Roaring Rampage of Revenge and storms the World That Never Was

-this is where Riku catches up to him, and from there its a pretty straight shot into the beginning of kh2

-which im sure if you played these in chronological order would be *some kind of mood whiplash* i bet

-okay what have i missed

-recoded happened. the only important part here is that malificent and pete find out about the black box and malificent being malificent of course she Has To Have It

-”but whats the black box??” you ask

-good question

-we still dont know

-its  origin point is in KHUx though, 

-which is the multiplayer mobile game set during the Keyblade War of ages past. each weilder also has a companion dream eater named chirithy

-there are five unions, each headed by a leader and represented by an animal (unicorn, bear, snake, fox, and leopard)

-#anguisforlife

-these five (plus one more, named luxu) are each given roles by their master (the Master of Masters, or also known as MoM). He also tells them there is a traitor amongst the warriors of light. it’s unclear at this point how much of this he is directly steering. He also doesnt specifiy Which warriors of light, probably on purpose so everything happens as it should.

-so figure, trying to figure out who the traitor is is a pretty direct cause to no one trusting each other and eventually going for each others throats

-there is a page from the book of prophecies he gives only to luxu, who he tells that his role is to see the future with this Special Keyblade (and specifically the Eye in it). You might recognise it as xehanorts keyblade (and then you’ll start to see the Eye in a whole bunch of other ones too, notably in soul edge, way to dawn, and void gear)

-luxu fucks off, and everyone else goes about their business

-the first half of khux details how these unions came to  be rivals, and then how they fell into war with each other and destroyed the light. the second half detailed how Ava, leader of the fox union, created a fifth group known as the dandelions, specifically picked to survive the fall of the light and rebuild.

-ventus and lauriam are two of these leaders. No, we still don’t know how they got from one point to the other.

-one of the replacement leaders, strelitzia, got murdered and replaced by someone else. i think this plot point has been resolved in japan but i havent checked yet

-strelitzia is lauriam’s sister. she also knows elrena.

-and if you’re bad at anagraming like i am, lauriam=marluxua, and elrena=larxene

-so yeah figure that one out for me

-also i love strelitzia she has like two scenes total and i was already ludicrously attached help

-(Yes i screamed very hard during that One Scene in 3. we dont even see her face but it’s heerrrrrrrr)

-anyways

-right the black box

-luxu is seen carrying it off in the Back Cover movie as he wanders into exile. we still dont know whats in it. and that’s basically that.

-which leaves just Dream Drop Distance

-sora and riku take a Highly Modified mark of master exam under yen sid.

-things go wrong almost immidietly

-sora gets trapped by the xehanorts in a deep sleep, where they plan to use him as one of their 13 vessels of darkness

-there has to be 13 for some reason

-13 darknesses, and 7 lights, and when they clash it’ll make the X-blade

-because reasons

-it’s fate or something

-riku rescues him

-there is time travel involved now

-because at this point the 13 darkness now include; heartless ansem, master xehanort, xemnas, young xehanort, xigbar, and saix.

-more time travel will be involved later, but to keep this in mind the rules of time travel here are

     -you cannot take your body with you

     -you lose any future knowledge you gain if and when you return

-things are obviously wibbly here because it’s half in the dreamscape, but just. keep those rules in mind when you play 3.

....... im sure im missing a bunch but i just spent two hours writing the most casual pre-kh3 synopsis ever i hope you can forgive me XD

[stunudo]

Infiltrated: Part 3

I couldn’t find this gif while searching the Tumblr-loaded ones, but it is watermarked. Thanks to @spencerhellareid for the sly Hotch side-eye. xoxo

Featuring: Hotch x Female Reader/ Foyet x Female Reader

Setting: Season 4

A/N: I got an unsub fmk-type ask. So this came from that. This is going to be darker than any other series I have done. Hope you guys like it! The reader character has a name because she is protecting her identity. xoxo Stu

Warnings: Moral repugnancy and general unsub behavior. Also smut.

Series

Your name: submit What is this?

George had left the morning after the tenderizer with little fanfare. He relished in your wincing steps as you saw him to the door.

“Alright, Y/N, I’ve got some things in the works, but look out for a meet up in a week or two.” George watched you process the instructions, ensuring you were worried just enough to make his leaving a loss.

“If you need anything you know where to find me,” You held his gaze.

“Y/N, please, I don’t need anything.” George laughed in your face. “Ditch the burner, I’ll get you a new one.”

“Anything else?” You shifted with your hands in your back pockets, the skin still warm through your jeans. He didn’t say anything, but grabbed your chin, holding it centimeters from his face. He watched your eyes focus, listened to your breath hitch and became satisfied with his effect. He turned to walk away.

“Be safe.”

He didn’t even look back, but you could hear his guffaw bounce around the solemness of the drab apartment hallway.

A week after the midnight phone call, you finally crossed paths with the BAU again, in the flesh. Your team had been in the field on cycling twelve hour surveillance shifts, leaving your hours of mindless desk duties to be done at unlikely times. It was seven in the evening and you passed the sand-eyed profilers stepping onto the elevator.

“Going up?” Agent Morgan held the door for you and you gave him an appreciative tight lipped smile.

“How’s it going Turner?” Prentiss asked as she peered around Reid and Rossi.

“Have they developed an IV caffeine drip yet?” You joked, glancing over your shoulder to Hotch in the corner.

“Actually, Neonatalogists give Cafcit intravenously to premature infants to treat apnea.” Dr. Reid pointed out.

“So, can I get an adult dose then?” You asked.

“Oh, I’m not a prescribing doctor.” Reid grimaced at you. “But, it is just a different form of NoDoz.”

“Ah, well, I know that one well enough, it got me through my sophomore year of college.” Prentiss chuckled.

Their floor dinged and you leaned back to let them pass. You wondered what kind of horrors they had left behind their latest jet ride. Hotch was the last one on the elevator and something pushed you in his direction.

“Hey--” You caught his gaze and a witty smirk brought a sudden warmth to your cheeks. You bit back the pinching in your cheeks, “You got a minute? I want to go over something with you upstairs.”

He nodded, “Hey guys, I’ll meet you at dinner?” He called back out to his team. Rossi’s concerned stare bore into you as the metal doors closed. The atmosphere of the elevator had reached the summit of a roller coaster, your stomach fell as the doors parted on your floor. You nodded down the hall, leading Hotch through an unmarked door.

“Turner, what’s this about?” Hotch didn’t flinch at the surroundings. He seemed to think you had brought him here for discretion and not true privacy. You couldn’t exactly say why you were doing this, but slowly your body pulled you closer to him. He had a spicy aftershave that lingered on his collar. He froze at your proximity, but the lack of verbal explanation needed no follow up once your breath ghosted over his neck. His hand came out to clutch at your waist, protectively. You took in a ragged breath and knelt in front of him.

You found his belt as he let his shoulders fall against the storeroom door. Despite the looming stress of his last case and your waiting busy work, he responded quickly and impressively. His thighs were muscular and his butt clenched nicely beneath your finger nails as you took his cock into your mouth. He groaned a deep and pained sound; it had been awhile since he had such attention.

“Easy there,” Hotch gasped, stroking your hair from your eyes. You looked up at him, waiting for further instructions. His face was darkening with need and you improvised when he couldn’t form words. You built a steady yet lavish pace, swirling your tongue over his head with every few dips. You were getting incredibly hot knowing how wrong this was and how very much you enjoyed doing it anyway. This was not planned on, something that had gotten you into trouble in the past. Fuck the rules.

You hummed against Hotch’s length and puckered with the vacuum you had created, driving him further along.

“Oh Christ!” Hotch groaned, his knees bending as he added to your rhythm, he finally felt comfortable taking what he wanted. You enjoyed his pleasure more than you thought and his head fell back as he came down your throat. You finished draining him quickly, his hands fumbling with your hair and shoulders, unsure yet gracious.

You stood, as he put himself away. You leaned in before he could say anything.

“You don’t have to say anything, Aaron. This is doesn’t have to mean anything. This was--,” You locked on to his dark eyes, a smug smile creeping up your lips. “This was fun. Just friends. Releasing tension.”

He grabbed your upper arm before you could slip back into the hallway, his hot breath coating your ear. “I pay my debts, Y/N.” He never used your first name, it was almost a threat.

“And I collect on mine.” You replied, leaving the promise of future rendezvous  heavy on the air.

Hotch hadn’t sent you confused or suggestive texts, like most guys would have. He simply carried on working the case as you continued to consult whenever your unit could spare you. There was a big case in the works and your team was in the field or scrounging for leads with criminal informants day and night. You had learned what the phrase ‘dead on your feet’ truly meant. You gave up your night time shifts of tailing profilers at random. They were rarely in Virginia as it was and sleep had grown scarce.

When you dreamt you were always running, the air stolen from your lungs. You would pass indistinct people from your past as if you were running the Boston Marathon. But they weren’t cheering you on, they were mocking you. Hemmings was about ten paces ahead of you, smirking over his boulder of a shoulder. Then George’s voice was in your ear and the whole scene froze.

He was behind you, but off somewhere else there was an interrogation going on. Hotch’s voice was low and level and you didn’t want to hear what he had to say or the responses of his unsub. You knew who he was talking to, but you didn’t want to see their face. Suddenly your skin would burn and you would wake up.

You saw him waiting at the bakery down the street from your apartment while you went for a morning run. The bruising had lessened enough that you could run outside without drawing attention to yourself. It was a pain sparring in the gym, but the longer pants and baggy shirts kept your teammates none the wiser. When he had warned you it would be two weeks, in reality he had made it three. You knew better than to approach him outright, so you circled back on a usual path of yours.

He was sitting on a bench in a park, some place much too common for someone with such darkness inside him. He seemed unimpressed with the birds as he tossed day old bread at the hordes of flying rats. You stopped to stretch with the aid of his bench. You knew you looked appealing in your running shorts, cat calls were a hazard of the hobby. Having him appraise you felt intimate, like he was stroking you with one of his blades instead of just undressing you with his eyes.

“Everything pan out?” You asked, not making eye contact.

“It’s fine. How’s Boy Blue and his team of misfits?” George pelted a chunk of crust across the sidewalk to a massive goose.

“Overworked. They haven’t been home longer than two days since, we, since last time.”

“Since I fucked you raw?” George clicked his tongue and leaned back. He wore aviator sunglasses and a mean grimace. “Yeah, well, times ticking on Hotch’s clock, Y/N. Your new phone is in your car’s glove box. I’ll text you the details when we can, catch up.”

He stormed off as you held your knee to your chest, keeping your focus at a ninety degree angle from his departure. If you were being tailed, the two minute conversation could have only been seen from the way you had come. He was too calculated to be caught shooting the breeze. And you were too much of an exhibitionist to stop stretching as he walked away. You took a longer loop than normal to burn off your anticipation about his cryptic hints.

After a shower and a Hungry Man’s instant dinner, you strolled down to your car in the apartment building’s underground lot. On your passenger’s seat was an elegant shopping tote with a note inside. ‘FOR NEXT TIME’ in scrawled capitol letters. Inside the bag were leather straps, some bits of lace that may have been lingerie if there was more fabric and an empty knife sheath.

You almost forgot the real reason you came outside. You popped the latch on the dashboard. Inside, there was a black plastic bag with a prepaid cell phone and a pack of gum. He liked to keep the purchases less noticeable by putting multiple things on the receipt. You grabbed the bags and headed back inside. The phone hummed to life as you climbed the steps.

There were six text messages of incoherence before a date and time. It was the night before your next day off, sonofabitch was really keeping tabs on you. After two more messages with no discernible importance he gave you a location. He wanted to meet at the train station. What the hell was he doing?

“What the fuck Hemmings?!”

The rookie was late on the shift change and you had only an hour to get to the rendezvous spot to meet George. The newest agent on your team was a lot of things, but tardy was not usually one of them. You tried to keep your breathing regulated as the clock on the dashboard of the surveillance van ticked another minute. He was thirteen minutes late. Fifteen and you would have to check in with Headquarters, something could be wrong. But you weren’t that optimistic.

Your partner’s shift was over four hours later so that changeover wasn’t done in expected patterns. He just shrugged when it was seventeen after, you huffed and called into your Unit for a back up.

“This is Turner, Hemmings is a no show for his shift, is there a contingency in place?”

“Hang on Turner, let me talk to the Chief,” your SSA put you on hold. Great. The smuggling ring you were staking out was quiet and it was the middle of the day, what was keeping the idiot?! “Alright, Hemmings called in and said he is en route, sit tight.”

“Well, can I take the last twenty minutes out of his ass at least?” You were never late, it was one of your very few rules.

“Be my guest, but film it will ya? I want to keep that for posterity’s sake.”

“Maybe next time, when I don’t have somewhere to be,” you mumbled.

“Alright, check out when you can. Thanks.”

“Ten-four.” You gave an unnecessary sign off and proverbially sat on your hands.

Hemmings banged on the backdoor at precisely twenty four minutes after he was originally supposed to. You checked out of your detail and made your way across town to headquarters to get your personal vehicle as all Bureau issued cars were low-jacked. The extra trip was fraying your nerves at both ends. Better to be safe than sorry.

You hopped into the elevator and headed to your floor, it opened on six. Suddenly you were faced with a concerned looking Hotch talking to an annoyed Chief Strauss, you weren’t really in the mood to eavesdrop, but someone had called the elevator. “Going up?”

Hotch and Strauss both stared at you like an insect before their faces retracted.

“Keep me posted, Aaron.” Chief Strauss cut him off, stepping in beside you. She was back to a blank slate before you could ask her what floor she needed, but she said seven was fine. Sure lady, whatever that meant.

The doors closed on Hotch’s apologetic bafflement.

@a-unique-girls-heaven @gummiishark @rottendaisies @sunnygubler @lovebodymindstuff @archaic-zugswang @darkheartednerdwithglasses @mikri-oneiropola @princesswagger14 @justwinchesterme96 @profiler-in-training @kennybud @onlyalittleteenwolfobsessed @conversations-with-you-61065 @dontshootmespence @moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown @cynbx @cherry-loves-fanfic @hotchnerfuckmeup @illegalcerebral @omallieallie @creativecody16 @kandii395 @tiny-potato-lives

[misssophiachase]

Protection

25 Days of Klaroline + Tropes (I’m a little late)

When former first daughter Caroline Forbes and her former bodyguard Klaus Mikaelson have to part ways professionally can either of them deal with the imposed distance given their unresolved feelings and what will bring them back together again?  

I'll stand in front of you, I'll take the force of the blow. 

Daytona Beach, Florida

“This is Spring Break, Care, when are you going to start having some fun?” Her roommate Katherine drawled as they made their way from their hotel towards the packed beach. It wasn’t the first time she’d mentioned it that week and Caroline knew it wouldn’t be her last.

“I’m having fun…”

“Oh yeah, if fun means having your nose stuffed into a book,” she scoffed, placing her oversized sunglasses on her face. “There’s many things to be seen scenery wise but the inside pages of your pathetic, romance book aren’t one of them.”

“Trust me, your running commentary on the local beach talent has provided me with more than enough visuals, nose in book.”

“I only say this because I care,” she insisted. “Someone as hot as you deserves to have some fun at least…”

“I’m having fun...”

“The fact you keep repeating that you’re having fun means you’re really not.”

“Always looking out for me, aren’t you, friend?” She drawled. 

“Look, I know you still have feelings for him.” She stopped abruptly on the street, placing her hands on Caroline’s shoulders and spinning her around. “After eight years in that close proximity, I can understand. Although, I’m surprised you never ravaged each other senseless.” They’d only known each other six months but she was fast becoming acquainted with her roommate’s direct nature. 

“It wasn’t like that, what we had was purely professional...”

“Sure it was,” she drawled. 

“It had to be,” she conceded, slightly regretful she’d never made a move. “Fine, I’ll lose the book today.” 

A few hours later and Caroline was stretched out on a towel, soaking up the warm, Florida sun in her newly acquired, white bikini. Not that she’d ever admit it but Katherine had a point. It was supposed to be their term break so Caroline figured a bit of relaxation wouldn’t hurt.

Caroline was the type who needed to have a busy brain and schedule at all times and studying law at Harvard was the perfect excuse because if not other thoughts would creep in unexpectedly. Her life had been so different six months ago and Caroline was having a difficult time letting it go completely.  

6 months ago - Washington DC

“Caroline!” The young blonde had been a thousand miles away, staring out onto the wintery, Presidential Inauguration parade and only coming to when her mother broke her reverie by tapping on the cold, frosted glass window to grab her attention.

“Huh?”

“I know this is going to be difficult, darling,” Liz cooed, pulling her closer. “After eight years in the White House, life is going to be very different from now.”

Different? Caroline was extremely buoyed by the fact she would have a relatively normal life and wouldn’t have to hide behind Secret Service detail anymore. But at the same time she felt a heavy weight settle over her chest knowing it meant she’d never see him again, including those crimson lips which would frown in frustration whenever she argued back, those dimples that would flash unexpectedly when she thought he had no sense of humour and those dark, knotted, blonde curls that were begging to be touched.

Caroline had sent her mother the contrived smile she’d mastered over the years and one Liz was still yet to see through. Caroline made her way towards the front door, knowing it would be the last of her final duties as first daughter.  The relief was immense for the most part but the lack of his presence was eating away at her firm resolve.

“Someone looks like they’re going to a funeral,” he chuckled. Caroline would know that accent and know-it-all tone anywhere. Why was she going to miss him again? He looked immaculate as usual in his black suit and crisp, white shirt as he approached. “Going to miss me?”

“Urgh, you wish.”

“Don’t pretend you’re not going to miss my witty sense of humour.” Caroline didn’t respond, just rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “I guess I’m only surprised about your expression because of all the times you fought me about your security detail.”

“What can I say? I don’t like pushy people,” she shot back. “So sue me.”

“Well, after today you are fully in charge of your own destiny and I for one am pleased to not have to put up with your…”

“My?”

“Uh, interesting character quirks.”

“You’re no longer responsible for me, Mikaelson, so just say it.”

“Opinions,” he answered, still somewhat diplomatically.  “Every single one of them in their bossy glory.”

“I’m not the only one with opinions,” she replied, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You wear yours like a badge of honour.”

“As do you,” he quipped. “I’m not sure if the men at Harvard or the world are really ready for you, Victory.” Hearing him use her secret service codename was almost like a punch to the chest knowing it would be the last. 

“As long as they don’t tell me what to do, it will be fine,” she teased. “And I think you can call me Caroline now.”

“Force of habit,” he explained. “I think it took me five minutes to work out why you chose that codename. I’ve never met anyone more competitive and set on winning at all costs.” 

“I’m determined and tenacious, what can I say?” She huffed defensively. “Plus, I seem to recall beating you on a few occasions at pool, Mikaelson.”

“I suppose I can break the news now. It was only because I let you, princess.”

“A likely story,” she smiled, thinking just how much she’d miss their easy banter after being in such close proximity for eight years. “Maybe one day we can have a rematch and I’ll school your ass just like last time?”

“Maybe.” It was non committal but Caroline didn’t expect any less from her aloof, former bodyguard. 

He regarded her seriously and even though he was good at keeping his emotions hidden she swore there was something telling in his eyes. Almost like he was going to miss her as much as she him.  Time seemed to stand still, until she heard a car horn from the driveway. Her mother never was very patient. 

Then just as quickly as he’d appeared, Klaus had left, the only parting gift a knowing smirk and the flash of a rogue dimple before walking away, one last time. Knowing that he wasn’t coming back to protect her was more difficult than she thought. She’d been desperate for independence but now she wasn’t quite sure what she wanted. 

“Caroline.” She could barely hear her name it was uttered so quietly amongst the nearby chatter on the beach, an underlying growl accompanying it. Goose bumps formed over her naked skin and suddenly the hot, Florida sun was no competition for the shiver that rippled through her body. She’d know that voice anywhere. But why here and why now?

“Klaus,” she inquired, removing her oversized, floppy hat and peeling away her sunglasses, resting on her elbows to get a better vantage point to check she wasn’t dreaming. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

His good looks hadn’t faded in six months, that much she could tell in his tight fitted, navy polo shirt and an oversized pair of aviator sunglasses, his blonde hair curling over his ears teasingly.

“You have to come with me, right now.” His voice was low and decidedly urgent but Caroline never was one to give in easily, especially given he was no longer assigned to protect her.

“I’ll do no such thing,” she refused, suddenly feeling a little self conscious in her skimpy bikini. At least her awkwardness hadn’t diminished her stubbornness.

“Well, maybe you’ll come along for me then? Niklaus always has been a questionable sort of character.” Another familiar voice interrupted, she’d recognise that serious tone and chiseled jaw anywhere, even unusually attired in casual clothing.

“I almost didn’t recognise you without a suit, E,” she chuckled, her hand covering her eyes so she could see him amongst the bright sunlight.

“A suit on Daytona Beach? Not the kind of ensemble I was going for on this particular occasion.” Caroline looked between them, Klaus’ crimson lips were pursed and Elijah’s brow furrowed. This obviously wasn’t a social visit. She’d thought about Klaus a lot the past six months but never imagined their reunion being quite like this.

“What’s with all the chatter? I’m trying to suntan here,” Katherine murmured lazily, finally turning over onto her back to see what all the commotion was about. As soon as she cocked her left eyebrow approvingly, Caroline knew they were in trouble, even if it should have been the other way around given their profession. “Well, well, who do we have here?”

“Look, there’s no time for chit chat,” Elijah shot back. “We need to get out of here.”

“Charming,” Katherine drawled. “And go where exactly? You may be cute but the creepy, stalker vibe isn’t doing much for me, mister.” 

“Who’s your mouthy friend?”

“Katherine…” Caroline attempted knowing that if anyone could make a scene it would be her brunette best friend scorned by a gorgeous stranger. 

“Why don’t you do us a favour and buzz off,” she growled. Even though she was wearing sunglasses, Caroline knew that if looks could kill Elijah would be a hot pile of ash right now.

“Katherine, these are my friends,” she explained, albeit cryptically.

“Well, your friends need to learn some manners.” Although Klaus had been decidedly somber since his sudden reappearance, Caroline couldn’t miss the slight smile tugging at his lips. He did always like to see his uptight brother berated. Today was obviously no different. 

“They are my friends,” she continued. Caroline wasn’t sure of the threat but if it was nearby she didn’t want to cause more of a scene.

“Before…”

“Before I started university, you know when I was living at my former house.” Katherine seemed to be processing what she was saying and Caroline wasn’t sure what else she could say. 

“Oh that pretty, white one,” she mused, finally catching on. “Why didn’t you say so?” The girls gathered their belongings and made their way through the throng still unsure of the threat. Caroline couldn’t help but watch everyone around them. In one respect being in a crowd had its advantages but at the same time you didn’t know who was close by either. 

Katherine stumbled a little on some loose sand, stumbling forward slightly. Caroline noticed Elijah’s strong arms catching her before she fell. She steadied herself but not before slapping his hand away. 

“Get off me you oaf,” she growled, stomping ahead. 

Klaus gave Caroline a curious look, his eyebrows now firmly raised. “And you thought I was difficult, Mikaelson.” She didn’t bother to catch his ensuing expression. 

2 hours later

“Where the hell are we?” Caroline asked, looking around the impressive house. Shortly after leaving the beach, Elijah and Klaus had ushered them into a nearby jeep and driven them down the coast. 

“Your new home for the next few days.” 

“I’m sorry what?” Katherine whined, her brunette pony tail whipping around so fast they could hear its impact. “We have a home in party central on Daytona Beach and it’s been paid for upfront.”

“Well, I’m so sorry to ruin your plans,” Elijah groaned. 

“And we all know that this beachfront, private property is a hell of a lot better than your meagre accomodations in that questionable environment.”

“Wow, I never took you for such a snob,” Caroline accused, raising her eyebrows in Klaus’ direction. 

“Says the former first daughter,” he chided. It was as if they’d been transported back to their presidential days. 

“Were they always in the foreplay stage like this?” Katherine asked Elijah, looking between the two expectantly. Caroline felt her skin flush, choosing to divert her gaze downwards. Katherine always knew how to make a situation decidedly more uncomfortable.

“I didn’t work with the First Family but every time I saw these two together it was exactly like this.”

“Hey.”

“What can I say the annoying brunette has a point. Nik.”

“Annoying? Excuse me?”

“Do you ever do anything but complain? And here I thought the car ride and ten thousand questions was going to be the worst it would get.”

“Well, call me crazy but after you kidnapped us from the beach I feel like it’s the least we deserved and being Caroline’s former, secret service, hottie, detail doesn’t count.”

“Klaus was my former detail, he doesn’t work in the service anymore.” Caroline responded, her attention solely focused on Klaus. She’d said it before thinking about the consequences. 

“Have you been keeping tabs on me, Victory?” He grinned knowingly. Caroline may have done a little research over the past few months but never wanted his arrogant ass to know that. 

“You wish, Mikaelson.”

“Victory? Oh just great, so who exactly have I absconded with? For all I know you’re all part of some Government cover-up. I really should have listened to my mother when she said never go anywhere with strangers.”

“Someone’s been watching too much Designated Survivor. Will you be quiet for more than five seconds if we tell you what’s going on?” Elijah sighed, his frustration with the feisty girl at its absolute limit. 

“I’m not making any promises but start talking, broody,” she insisted, making herself comfortable on the oversized couch. Caroline took a seat nearby, careful not to be too close with Klaus, scared of the unresolved feelings it would evoke. 

6 hours later.... 

Caroline couldn’t sleep. She’d found her way into the kitchen around 3am and boiled the kettle knowing that the only thing that would help was chamomile tea. She’d never been a tea fan until Klaus had suggested its calming effects during a presidential tour of India when she was restless due to the jet lag. 

When Klaus had appeared from nowhere earlier, Caroline knew he wasn’t secret service but the urgency in his tone and the trust she still felt towards him was enough to leave in a hurry without much information. Finding out exactly why he was there was another and more terrifying prospect, hence her insomnia. 

“There’s been a very real threat made against your father,” he’d admitted. During his time as President, threats weren’t unheard of but now it seemed so unexpected. 

“But why?”

“The current President has made some comments about your father’s actions and time in the Presidency. His more extreme followers have taken them personally and are out for revenge.” Given just how unhinged his successor was, Caroline wasn’t surprised but the fact her father should suffer made her feel suddenly ill. 

“What? I need to be with him now...” She’d attempted to make it to the front door before he grabbed her round the waist and pulled her backwards. He’d touched her before but this seemed very different and decidedly more intimate. Caroline decided to blame it on her highly strung emotions. 

“Get off me! I have to see my father is okay.”

“Your father is in complete lockdown, so too your mother at their place in Houston. No one is getting to them,” he whispered, pulling her closer. She could feel his heart beating against her, his mouth lowered as his hot breath tickled her ear. “The best thing you can do is stay here until this is over. That’s what they want.” She stilled, knowing that it was probably true. 

“Why are you here though?”  

“After leaving the service, I started my own private protective company with my brothers. We still work as consultants for the Government.”

“And let me guess, my father insisted the consultant, who happens to be you, intervene?” He chuckled against her hair, calming her considerably. 

“He figured I was the only one who could get through to your stubborn self.”

“Sell out,” she growled, not bothering to pull free. For some reason being cocooned in his arms felt so right.  “If we get through this, I have every intention of raising this with him and kicking your ass, you can quote me on that Mikaelson.” 

“Why do I feel like this is deja vu?” He yawned, making his way towards the stainless steel fridge and opening the door, breaking her from her trance. The glow from inside cast light on his toned, not to mention bare, torso. From what Caroline could tell in her shock, the only clothing he was wearing was a fitted pair of grey boxer shorts. 

“Do you mind?”

“I’m hungry,” he muttered, rifling through the fridge. “And I figured you needed some lemon,” he said, placing one on the kitchen counter, just like in India all those years ago. “You’re welcome.”

“Do you always walk around half naked?” 

“I didn’t expect to run into you if you hadn’t noticed. And just so you know that singlet and short set isn’t completely innocent, sweetheart.” 

“Excuse me for being kidnapped at short notice with no proper change of clothes, unlike mister organised.”

“It’s bloody hot out, not that I owe you an explanation given I’m trying to protect you, Victory.”

“But in eight years together you were always clothed and professional but now you’re just...” She faltered as he turned to face her. If she thought the side view was impressive, front on was even better. Caroline had lost all sensible thought, her mouth dry. 

“Just?” Caroline knew two could play at this game, picking up the nearby knife and waving it in his direction to keep him at bay.

“I’m armed and dangerous and given my current emotional state you should be worried, naked boy.”

“If I knew my partially naked form would have created this reaction, I would have done it sooner.” 

“You smug ass,” she scowled, knife still well and truly poised. She was losing all resolve, the grip on the knife weakening with every second.  

“You conceited princess,” he growled, removing it from her grasp and pulling her towards him greedily.

“I hate you so much,” she panted, feeling every last shred of willpower slip away.   

“Well, luckily I hate you too,” he growled, his crimson, lips taking hers hungrily, his tongue finding its way into her hot and waiting mouth. It was as if eight years of pent up sexual frustration was playing out. 

His hands caressed her back, making their way lower to cup her taut ass, lifting her onto the kitchen counter, while not breaking their connection.  His hands found their way to the hem of her singlet, his fingers teasing the sensitive skin underneath. Caroline’s skin felt like it was on fire, her nipples tingling in anticipation of his touch.   

“So, this is what you two get up to without supervision?” Elijah asked, interrupting their frenzy. They broke apart like startled animals, albeit reluctantly. 

“He started it,” Caroline accused, licking her lips self consciously and attempting to push him away, her hands shaking. 

“No, it was definitely her, I mean she had a knife and....”

“Ooooh kinky,” Katherine whistled appreciatively appearing from behind. “Please don’t let us stop you.” She pulled Elijah away strategically and Caroline had to admit she was glad. The fact that those two might have been playing nice finally was a bonus. 

“I’m sorry, we really shouldn’t...”

“This might not be the best time but there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for years, Victory,” Klaus admitted, pulling her closer and placing a chaste kiss on her temple. 

“And what’s that?” They were both silent obviously scared to admit their true feelings after such a build up. 

“How about a game of pool?” He suggested. “Each time we sink a ball we confess something and then...”

“Winner takes all?” Caroline smirked.   

On FF HERE

[isa-ly]

“I HATE MY LIFE, LMAO”

TW: mental illness, therapy, self-hatred, self-deprecation

Let's start this one off with a text I received a few months ago from a friend, who I hadn't seen or spoken to in a while:

For anyone who isn't fluent in German, it reads as follows: "I'm hip and have a Twitter too now, as you probably noticed. Your own Twitter doesn't sound like you're too doing well. Can I help in any way?"

At first, I was like: "Huh? What does she mean?"

But, well...

Alright, I see her point.

And that's what I'm here to talk about today: Tweeting and joking your sorrows away (and why it's so hard to stop doing it). Before we get into it, however, I want to drop one last screenshot, because it just fits this current situation oh too well, and the irony made me giggle:

Okay, enough social media plugging, let's get back to business.

As you can see, I am quite active when it comes to tweeting about my struggles with mental illness. Which, in this day and age, really isn't a rarity. You just need to take one look at Twitter, Instagram, Reddit, TikTok or any dank meme, to see that joking, down-playing and iRoniCalLy tAkiNg tHe piSs out of personal problems and issues, has become quite the trend for millennials in general. Once again, I'm not the only one guilty of doing that.

Had you asked me a year ago whether or not I thought that constantly ridiculing very serious and traumatic incidents in my life was maybe a bit worrisome, I would have probably gotten very defensive and told you that "it's called coping, okay?” Because hey, making jokes and laughing about the bad things in your life gives them less power over you and helps distract from the pain. And that's good, right? That's what you're supposed to do. Right?

Well.

Dealing with your own issues, whether that's big or small ones, is a very personal process that, quite frankly, no one really gets to have a say in except for you. And yeah, sure, as we all learned by watching Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, ridiculing and laughing about something that really scares you, loosens the hold said fear has on you and makes it easier to deal with. However, there is a very big difference between the boggards of life (if you don’t get that reference, you clearly weren’t around when J.K. Rowling wasn’t problematic and transphobic yet) and medical mental health issues and disorders.

I am no doctor, I am aware of that, but even I know that having an ironic laugh about a shitty day is something very different to basically verbally abusing yourself and trying to make your own depression or anxiety relatable to ... well, to whom, actually? Random people on the internet? That are never going to really care or react to your self-deprecating jokes? That doesn’t seem like it’ll do much now, does it.

And that’s kind of the whole point, if you’re really honest with yourself. Social media has made it oh too easy to simply shout those invasive, painful and scary thoughts and feelings out into a void before they eat you alive. The thing about a void is, though: You're still alone in it. It doesn't answer you back. It's empty. And it will make you feel that exact emptiness inside you, too. It poses no comfort, it doesn't offer advice, it doesn't give you a hug, a shoulder to cry on or anything, really. It may swallow your word vomit whenever it bubbles out of you, but it will still leave you feeling drained and hollow because there's nothing you get from it in return.

Twitter, Instagram and every other easy-to-access-and-rant-on social media platform lets you dump your initial hurt all over it, but it doesn't lessen the pain. And neither do the self-deprecating jokes and dank depression memes.

I’ll say this once again, for the people in the back (me, I’m talking about myself here, I am the people in the back): Being mentally ill isn't a quirky personality trait, and making a lifestyle and constant comedy show out of is never, ever going to solve your problems and make you feel any better. You'll still be miserable if you don't actually work on solving your issues because you're too busy letting them define you.

Depression is not an aesthetic. Anxiety is not a competition. Panic attacks aren't funny memes.

I'm not saying that you can't and shouldn't joke or laugh about your own problems. Humor can be a very cathartic thing, I'm the living example of it. But staying put in your depression, anxiety or whatever issues you're dealing with, and trying to make a comedy skit out of it every time someone asks you how you are, is only going to make you more comfortable and validated in your own misery. And there are way better places to be comfortable in than that. Trust me.

You are not your mental illness. You are not your disorder. Those things will never define who you are. They're a part of you, yes, but they aren't you. You will always be the one that calls the shots and you always, always have choice and hope on your side. Even when it feels like you are alone and being swallowed whole by the darkness, it is never too early or late to get help. It might feel insincere, it might feel terrifying and impossible. But it never is. That's exactly what your disorders and problems want you to think. But they are wrong.

I had to accept that too. I had to accept that, once again, I wasn't as special of a snowflake as my mental illness painted me to be. By doing that, it simply did what any mental illness does best: it isolated me even more. With every joke, every #relatable tweet, every "lol" behind yet another truly worrisome sentence, I sunk back further and further into the cocoon of loneliness. And, plot twist, you can't finger-gun your way out of depression. Sorry, babes.

So, every time you’re about to chuck out another "I wanna die lmao" in a casual conversation with friends or yet another self-deprecating tweet, just take a second to ask yourself: Is this really a way of coping? Is it really making me feel better? Or is it actually a subconscious, desperate attempt of getting someone, anyone, to see that I'm slowly breaking on the inside?

Again, I don't want this to come across as a self-help guide on how to battle your mental illness. Not at all. If anything, the reason I phrase this blog and all my entries the way I do, is because it's what I need to keep telling myself, every time I revert back to old habits. It's a reminder. For me and, in case you want it to be, for you too. I'm not here to lecture anyone. Well, maybe myself, a little. But everyone makes their own choices and I'm no one's guide or saviour, nor do I want to be. However, I made a promise to myself to really commit to this blog thing, so here I am. I'm my own harshest critic, always have been, so if anything, this is a call out post for my own self-deprecating habits.

Receiving that message from my friend made me realize that even though I would have never admitted it to myself at the time, all those tweets and casually dropped “I’m gonna kms haha lol”s were nothing but very badly disguised cries for help. I was just too much of a coward to admit that to myself. Okay, maybe coward is a bit of a harsh word. I don’t want to diminish my fear or vulnerability just because I know the reason for it now. It’s just that looking back at my own denial, and still sometimes catching myself in moments where I slip back into this behaviour, makes me want to grab myself by the shoulders and shake me until I snap out of it.

Which is why I’m just going to do this through my blog now – for past, present and also future me: Get it together. Stop yourself in your own tracks when you’re about to word-vomit up another cryptic tweet or self-deprecating joke. Instead, talk to a friend. Type up a text. Call someone. Schedule a therapy session. It's always gonna help, way better than forcing out a laugh about something that is in no way a laughable matter. Reaching out is not going to fix everything immediately, but in the long run it will. And that's what we're in for, after all.

You can ask any of my friends and they will tell you that whenever they express feelings of insecurity about sharing their worries to me, I will be quick to stop them in the middle of their sentence to tell them that they can, and always should, talk to me. About any- and everything, be that day or night. It is something that I have been preaching for God knows how long, and I genuinely mean it, too. So, I’ve kind of just been a huge hypocrite by never listening to my own advice. And I knew that. Deep down, I always knew that I was ignoring the exact thing I kept telling the people I loved to do too. And what can I say, I hate being a hypocrite.

I’m not saying that any of this is easy. Hell, it can be the hardest God damn thing ever, especially when you’re as emotionally repressed and inept as I am most of the time. And yes, venting and shit-posting about how much you’ve been crying all day or how much you “hate your own life” might work as a quick fix to let off some of that frustration steam. But it’s never going to actually repair the underlying issues that cause you to feel this shitty in the first place. The only thing that’s gonna do that, is actually talking to people. Whether that is family, friends or a therapist, doesn’t matter. Because other than an Instagram story that disappears after 24 hours, or a tweet that has a 280-character limit, real life people who care about you will actually take the time to listen, say something in return, and provide the comfort and open ear no social media platform or meme ever could. You know that. And I know that too. 

So, I want to try and quit lmao-ing my way through life and instead do what I actually, secretly know I am trying to do anyway with all those self-deprecating attempts at morbid comedy: ask for help. No lol’s needed.

[robultrash]

Reasons why the RFA is Shitty

I’m seeing a lot of discourse about the characters (Particularly Jumin and Seven) and I would just like to clarify that all of them have done pretty shitty things, or are capable of doing shitty things (Examples being Bad Endings) and here are the reasons why

Yoosung: First of all. his Rika dealios. Grieving is difficult, and honestly I never understood the reason for anger about Yoosung mentioning Rika so much, but as the new route shows, while they are not related by blood, they do share one thing in common, and that is they do not get the help they need, to the POINT that it HURTS their friends and loved ones. Yoosung’s refusal to get help damages his relationship with everyone, but especially Seven. I don’t think they are all that good of friends to begin with, but his inability to accept Rika’s death, is unhealthy, kind of annoying, and most of all, damaging, to both himself and his loved ones. Also, he’s reckless. Like, to the point of toxicity. 3/5 of his bad endings are him either dying or getting hurt because of his lack of patience, and that is at the expense of his life, your life, and Seven’s life. Usually for selfish reasons. Another thing, he’s still a child. Like, in the after ending he does grow up, but that’s only after his sacrifice for you. In every other child he shows no signs of growing up. And that’s if he isn’t working for Jumin (And even then he’s still pretty child like) And also, like, he switches personalities on you fast if he thinks you like someone else. Yandere Yoosung is basically canon and that is unhealthy AF

Zen: Let’s not talk about the narcissism, because that’s explained away and honestly we could all afford to love ourselves like that. Let’s talk about his terrible habits, like riding motorcycles in places where he could easily die. Or maybe his referral to his sexual drive as the beast, and that he openly admits that some men, including himself if enticed enough, can’t control themselves. In one of his bad ends, he literally peruses and hunts an uninterested MC. Like, he does not take no for an answer, and he admits that. And his rude relations with Jumin? Uncalled for and unacceptable. I get that Jumin reminds him what he should have been, but the game says Jumin was never once mean to Zen when he wasn’t mean first. Zen just refuses to get along with people he doesn’t like. What if he didn’t like Mc’s brother or dad or sister or friends, how would he treat them? Also, the whole princess and prince thing edges of sexist, but I would be willing to let that slide because of how often he sometimes flips the trope on it’s head, but he literally treats MC like a maiden in distress in almost all the routes. He’s much better about it in the V route but in the canon one’s he is possessive and demanding of MC even when he’s not the love interest (and probably especially because he is not the love interest) And this is a problem with all Zen and Yoosung, but they are super anti-gay. Like, the smallest of suggestions make them defensive. Again, this one is nit picky, but at least Jumin simply refuses such accusations.

Jaehee: (I’m not gonna lie, this one took me a while) She burns herself out on work so much that while it’s unhealthy for her, it would strain a relationship to the point where it wouldn’t work out at all. Her aggression towards MC in Zen’s route is pretty uncalled for. It even happens if you aren’t pursuing his route. She knows she can’t control Zen so she immediately jumps to going after you to try and intimidate you, which is pretty messed up. (If you have more problematic Jaehee things please share! I need my wife exploited.)

Jumin: He’s possessive, and while there is an explanation for it, there’s no excuse. He practically pushes MC to her death in his bad routes, and while you can argue and say that that wouldn’t really happen because it was the bad route, you have to take into consideration good route doesn’t mean most accurate. I probably would freak out and try and flee from the crazy almost stranger who was keeping me in his house under the word of ‘protection’. And also being kinky is okay, but his tying up of MC and picking out her clothes and the complete domination of one is not. That can be what both partners want, but the game doesn’t exactly make it clear that this is just some sort of sex thing. It could be MC’s whole new life, with no real say because of fear of Jumin. And why might MC fear Jumin? Maybe because he presses her into walls when he gets frustrated, and then half asses an apology, again under the ruse of protection. Even his good ending seems pretty damn controlling. 

Seven: Seven is a fucking douchebag, in all routes, in every stage of his route, and people who deny that are probably being hypocrites. If you can give Seven an excuse for all the shit he does, then literally everyone else gets one too. How is seven a douchebag? Ignoring the big things to start, he’s a dick to his so called friends. He tricks Yoosung constantly. And while they aren’t Sam Pepper level pranks, they are unjustly cruel, and constant, and he only does it to Yoosung because Yoosung is the only one openly intimidated by Seven. (Seven would probably go after Zen as well, since Zen has expressed his fear of Seven, but Seven knows if he did, he’d have Jaehee up his ass). He like, practically tortures Vanderwood, who literally babysits him when he’s being super fun Seven, and then has to try and control him when he goes serious Saeyoung. And, hes fucking mean as shit to MC when he does to the apartment. I totally understand the whole, have to push her away deal. But jesus he takes it too far sometimes. Remember when I said good end isn’t realistic end? Realistically, if someone did that to someone, they would turn the other direction immediately and nope out of there. He is a prick, and we’re expected to forgive him because... we want his good ending. 

V: He’s a liar, first and foremost. Even if it’s for the ‘protection’ of everyone, in the end it was because he didn’t want to out Rika to the others. The people who would have been most vulnerable to her. He did a pretty shitty job at protecting them too, because they die, like, a lot. I think Jaehee and Jumin are the only one’s who don’t have bad endings were they aren’t killed or controlled by Mint Eye. V knows the whole time she plans to drag them down and he just...does nothing? Like, at all. He doesn’t really ever try and stop Rika until Seven’s route. And he never really warns the RFA except through cryptic pleas, that like, make you want to just find out more. And also, he does not hide that he is in contact with Seven more than he is with the other members, which, must make everyone feel pretty fucking awful, especially Jumin, who is supposed to be V’s best friend, and V never really gives Jumin a break with that. And he’s just super self destructive. Like, if you are not a perfect goddess, he’s probably either going to lie to you, or become obsessed with you, or leave you to go right back to Rika. 

Saeran: Thought I was just gonna do to the RFA? YOU FOOL. Saeran I feel, legitimately has an excuse for his behavior, so I excuse a lot of it, He’s cruel and torturous and doesn’t give a damn about the innocent if they get in his way, but he’s literally under the mind control of drugs, and feels he relies on them. One of the only things I don’t think is excusable is his involving MC in all of this. Of course, without that there would be no game, but it’s one of the one things he pretty much had control over. Rika wanted to distract the RFA so she could get her files in the canon routes, and in V route MC is used to try and get secrets from the RFA. Literally, all of that could have been done without an outsider. They have plenty of followers that would have worked, who would have willingly lied for Rika and the cause without question. Like, this is less a fault in him and more a fault in the whole plan, it was just shitty to involve an outsider in the first place. 

Rika: I am actually not going to type one out for her because I know her actions speak mountains to all the bad shit she has done. One thing I would like to bring to attention though is that, she literally does to Saeran what her parents did to her, and while that’s common amongst the abused, my love for her won’t even erase that. 

I know probably no one read through all this, but I wanted to add this here: They are all bad people. It’s what makes them so human. One of the worst things about dating sims is the characters are near flawless, or their flaws make them more endearing such as fear of rejection. Dream Daddy is a big victim of that, one of the exceptions being Joseph. But it’s so important to recognize and accept these flaws. Because none of them are as extreme as I make them. If there was an option to just be friends with the RFA, that would resolve almost all of the flaws I mentioned above. They all have something bad inside them, but when they are at their best, what makes them so great shines through. Somethings are bad, Zen and Jumin’s bad endings being one, but that isn’t who the character is. That is who they are when they get pushed over the edge. Rika, is an extreme example of that. So stop this nonsense about pointing out flaws in other characters, because those flaws don’t make up the character, and they don’t mean shit in the end.

[renaroo]

Day 8 Campfire: The Phoenix and the Wolf

Disclaimer: X-Men and associated characters are the creative property of Marvel Comics Warnings: Canon-typical violence & language Pairings: JeanxLaura Rating: T Synopsis: Laura and Jean spend some time together. Or, rather, Laura was needing some alone time and Jean couldn’t keep herself from following. An awkward camping experience ensued. JeanxLaura. Sapphic September: Campfire

A/N: This one is very late but I loved writing it because this lowkey ship of mine is something I feel SO STRONGLY in my own bones. I just love everything about Laura and Young Jean and I super super wish we got this instead of every other romance decision made for the two of them by Marvel.

She was the best at what she did, and what she did… Well, it wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t pretty at all. And more often than not, it drove away those closest to her, the people who probably should have known better than to get too close to start with.

And Laura tried to not be surprised when it happened, when she drove a wedge between herself and every person she came to care for. But at the end of the day that was a lesson Logan could never teach her and that Sarah struggled to keep. Both or neither were her fault, and she never could figure out which side of the fence it was on.

When she bit the bullet and tore out her own heart so Warren wouldn’t have to that time, Laura realized for the first time just why it was important for the Wolverine to take a walk, to step away from towns and cities and cabins, and just find herself in the beautiful nothingness of the wilderness. Run wild, feel the freezing snow against bare skin.

In order to do that, however, Laura first needed to do something about the one person in the world she could not bear to drive a wedge between. The one person in the world who wouldn’t let her if she tried. And the one family that Laura was determined to never show the self-destructiveness that ran through their bitter veins.

“I can’t believe you signed me up for a summer camp,” Gabby said, glaring at the campus of the Jean Grey School for Higher Learning from the entrance gates. Her book bag was full and her arms even fuller with Jonathan the Wolverine. “You signed me up for a mutant summer camp which is basically school.”

“Which is basically training,” Laura said solidly, adjusting her sunglasses. “If you’re determined to make Wolverine and Wolverine a thing, I need you to train with other mutants, learn how to psychically defend yourself, and be exposed to all the types of threats that we’ll come across while we’re doing our job.”

“Couldn’t we do that by just sneaking inside and using the danger room?” Gabby tried to argue.

“No,” Laura replied simply.

“Why?” Gabby begged.

“Because you also need to learn math and history and science—“

“Oh my god! This isn’t a camp! It’s summer school!” Gabby cried out, mortified. “I know all those things better than you already, too!”

“You’re proving my point,” Laura said, glancing over the brim of her glasses at her little sister. “I didn’t go to school like I was supposed to.”

“But I’m Wolverine,” Gabby groaned. “School is too lame if you’re Wolverine!”

“Nah, you have to go to school if you’re Wolverine, Gabs,” Laura assured her. “That’s where every Wolverine earns their street credit among other mutants.”

That, at least, sparked Gabby’s attention. She hummed to herself, sizing up the competition around the school grounds. “Okay… but what are you doing for a month? If you’re doing something dangerous without me and I find out—“

“It’s not dangerous,” Laura assured her. “I don’t even have my costume. It’s just something I have to do alone — and, no, not in the alone but Gabby adventures along anyway. I have to do this alone because…”

“Because you’re mad at yourself for breaking up with Warren?” Gabby suggested.

“No, because I’m not mad at myself for breaking up with Warren,” Laura said simply. “Look, Gabby… I’m not just doing this for me. Think of it… Well, remember how Logan — my Logan — he… he died. And I immediately became Wolverine and joined the new X-Men?”

Looking sincerely empathetic, Gabby shook her head. “No, Laura. I don’t. I wasn’t around yet.”

“Well, that’s how I handled it,” Laura continued. “I didn’t handle it. I left some loose ends. I’d like to tie them up before they grow any looser, and before I forget why I miss the old son of a bitch so much.”

While still looking apprehensive, Gabby conceded and nodded. “Okay. I can suffer for a month of school for that,” she declared.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Both Laura and Gabby looked up just as none other than Jean Grey herself floated down from the sky to meet them, landing only feet away with a soft smile on her face. She had cut her hair, she had changed a lot of things, and Laura was certain that looking less and less like the Jean Grey of the statue in the middle of the courtyard had something to do with that.

As the new Wolverine herself, Laura sympathized.

“Hello, Laura, thank you for finally bringing Gabrielle here,” Jean said comfortably.

“Jean,” Laura greeted her back.

“Hi! I bet you’re Jean Grey,” Gabby said, shifting Jonathan so that she could offer the psychic a hand to shake. “I’m Gabrielle. But you already know that. I love your hair. And that jacket. Hope that’s not weird.”

“Not weird at all,” Jean assured her, accepting the handshake. Her eyes then glanced toward Laura, a voice in Laura’s head uninvited speaking, I asked Professor Kitty to let me show Gabrielle around. You should come with us instead of planning to leave already. It would help Gabby feel more at home. She’s very worried about you.

Lowering her glasses so that Jean could see the seriousness of her eyes, Laura squinted at her. Out of my head, Jean.

“Is it awkward knowing future you has a school named after her but current you isn’t going to be future you anymore so there’s a chance that all of reality is going to collapse?” Gabby then asked Jean with positively no tact.

Jean’s mouth opened slightly and then she looked back to Laura as if to ask for help.

“Have fun, Gabs!” Laura called as she waved a hand and walked toward her motorcycle. “I’ll be back in a month.”

Gabby turned and ran straight for Laura, throwing herself into a hug around Laura’s waist. “You better be back in a month exactly, or I’ll never forgive you and we’ll both be sad about it forever and you know you would be,” she demanded, face buried against Laura’s hip.

Laura wasn’t entirely sure what to do in response, but she let instincts take over. She lifted both of her hands and ran them through Gabby’s hair. First like petting Jonathan, then, just holding the family she loved more than anything close, and safely.

“I can never let you down, Gabby. You know that,” Laura assured her.

The tension fled Gabby’s body almost immediately, but she kept the hug. Laura then looked up to Jean, watching her concerned expression.

I know you’re still in here, Laura warned. Don’t bother. I mean what I say. I don’t lie to Gabby. Ever. I’ll be back in a month for her. Take care of her until then. Or tell whoever’s in charge to.

Jean only nodded in response.

Breaking the moment with Gabby, Laura patted her head again then got onto the motorcycle.

She needed the month. She needed the time. She told herself that one and over again, no matter how much it hurt to feel the scathing disappointment she was leaving behind in her selfish needs’ wake.

The forests in Nunavut were, at the very least, expansive. The looks of disbelief and concern from locals as she checked her gear through the lenses of sunglasses and poked around the local bait and trap shop for more supplies were well deserved.

“Do you need a map?” the shopkeeper asked worriedly.

“My old man’s place is burned into my memory,” Laura answered, throwing a few bags of cold hotdog wieners onto the counter and pulling her wallet out from her back pocket. “I could get to it blindfolded.”

The cashier seemed hesitant but the fifty pound note Laura held up to pay seemed to calm some nerves about the situation. Still, she looked warily at Laura. “There aren’t any cabins for miles in these woods.”

“You have to know where to look,” she responded cryptically before packing the freshly bought meat into her bag and heading out the store’s door. It was the best she could do under the circumstances. After all, no one was likely to take the true answer being that Laura had every intention of living the next few weeks exactly the way Logan had.

Mobile. Unsettled. Nothing but what she packed and what she found and what she built, fire included.

It honed instincts, it kept that bit of herself that would always be feral alive deep inside.

It…

She needed to feel close to Logan again. Her Logan. Her father. The one she lost before Gabby or Warren or —

The wind was cold even in the summer, and the way it whistled through trees that lived to see hundreds if not thousands of years was foreboding and terrifying to those who were not expecting it. But Laura expected it.

Just like she expected the chill to her bones and the hollowness of moving through the trees without a real direction — Laura expected the wilderness to fill her with the same kind of dread and disappointment that every home, every four walls which once housed the man whose legacy she wore as her own filled her with.

For other campers and hikers, the night was full of darkness and horrors, but for Laura they promised only a small and subtle change as predictably unpredictable as the winds. She kept her head down and walked further through her self-made trail. It was the sort of thing she was certain that Logan did when he took his long solo travels.

By the time she found some water to drink from and refill her canteen, Laura was looking at the other side of morning and slowing down.

Sitting by the stream’s edge, Laura cupped her hands and washed her face of the sweat and dirt and grime that her trip had earned her thus far. Then she leaned down and stuck her head into the water enough to take a deep drink.

The water was so cold and so pure, she couldn’t help but close her eyes in order to savor it. But as a result, when she opened her eyes, she was met with something unexpected in her reflection.

Red hair.

Laura swung out first with her sweeping right leg, toe claw out for attack. but fortunately for Jean, she was quick to end it quickly. Her claws were still drawn and her eyes narrowed, but Laura wasn’t about to attack Jean Grey the younger.

“Whoa, easy!” Jean said, hands up as if that was supposed to calm Laura after receiving such a shock.

“If I wasn’t taking it easy, you’d be on the wrong end of a boot, Jean,” Laura hissed. All the same, she rose to her feet and sheathed her claws, looking down in disappointment at her new hiking books. Her eyes then sharply turned back toward Jean. “You owe me new boots.”

“That’s fair,” Jean agreed, glancing over Laura with a frown. “I think it’s also fair for me to be pointing out that for someone who’s on vacation, you look pretty legitimately terrible.”

“I don’t remember asking you,” Laura said, turning around to gather her stuff by the stream. “Why are you here and what do I have to do to send you back to civilization and my little sister?”

“I followed you because… Well, psychically you were fuming with distress when you dropped Gabrielle off at the school,” Jean explained reluctantly, rubbing her shoulder. “You… Or your brain was crying out in pain. And I couldn’t ignore it. That’s the reason I was… invading your mind. I didn’t do it maliciously. I was worried.”

“Because I was in pain?” Laura asked critically.

“Of course,” Jean answered.

“Did it occur to you that I’m out here because I want to address that pain?” Laura demanded. “My only goal here is to get closer to my father. To feel like I’m with him one last time… that we could get together like we never managed when he was alive. That I was finally making him proud by being able to do something he never could — by raising a family and putting away the killer in me as much as I feasibly could.” She then met Jean’s bright, begging eyes at last. “I’m here to mourn him. Because he died. And now I’m trying to be Wolverine without him.”

“And you think doing that alone is the only way you can?” Jean asked lowly.

“This isn’t like Madripoor and the trigger scent,” Laura snapped. “You can’t reach in my brain and unlock my problems like there’s some key. I’m allowed to mourn my old man as much as anyone else, Jean.”

“Everyone misses Logan,” Jean assured her. “If you explained to Professor Ororo or Professor Kurt—“

“Everyone misses him but you and the rest of the time displaced kids of the atom,” Laura accused. “God, I can’t even imagine what pain it’d cause him to know that Jean freaking Grey wasn’t mourning him because she couldn’t so much as remember the time they had together.”

“I remember,” Jean said softly. “I have looked into the memories of my… expired self. I know what happened between them.”

“Remembering isn’t experiencing,” Laura said firmly. “And you’re not his Jean Grey.”

“You’re right,” Jean replied, actually breathing a sigh of relief. She then looked seriously toward Laura. “But I am your Jean Grey, Laura. I’m your friend. I’m… I’m here for you. And when I felt you were in pain, I knew in that moment that I was going to make it my job, my responsibility to help you. Because feeling you in such pain brings me that heartache. And I can’t stand the idea of not being there for you when you needed me most.”

Laura looked at Jean in disbelief for a long moment before glancing off, tucking hair behind her ears. “Wow. That’s… Huh.” She looked back to Jean, brows furrowed. “I didn’t even get a speech that good when I was dating dudes.”

Jean offered a gentle but still coy smile. “What good are dudes for, anyway?”

“I can never remember once I move past ‘em,” Laura answered with a small laugh.

Jean’s eyes widened for a moment and she glanced off, face blushed. “Sorry. I… um. Sometimes I’m still trying to not get residual emotions off people without permission and… when I let my guard down I sense things… I didn’t mean to…”

Laura ran her hands through her hair. “C’mon, Red, surely even in the past they knew how to pick up on someone flirting.”

If possible, Jean’s face grew redder. She looked up to Laura reluctantly. “Laura… I…. I’m not the Phoenix. If I play my cards right, I never will be. I’ll be… just Jean.”

“It’d be weird if you tried to be the older you,” Laura agreed. “I wasn’t exactly hitting on the older you. I was just hitting on, well, you. Unless you think just because I share a tacky fashion sense that I’m somehow becoming Logan. Like I said, I’m trying to be the Wolverine he’d be proud of. And Logan was a lot of things, but he wasn’t always proud of what those things made him.”

Jean seemed hesitant still, but she stepped closer to Laura. “You still look exhausted. We should make camp. Then figure out what we’re doing until that month is up.”

“Only if you light the fire and show me how you masked yourself from me for two thousand miles,” Laura offered.

Jean’s eyes sparked with something playful. “It’s a deal.”

The wilderness was still expansive, and there was still a chill through Laura’s bones that reminded her of the life her father had lived.

But at that time, by a campfire with Jean leaning against her side as the wood crackled and burned, Laura didn’t feel the pain of her grief as acutely as she felt the pride of his gaze on her.

He never wanted his life for her, he wanted something better. Something warmer. The proof that the lone wolf can still survive with a new pack.

Jean was warm and Jean was good. And Laura’s life was not Logan’s, just like the warm new emotion burning between her and Jean was entirely their own.

Even in a world that thought it knew the old story of the phoenix and the wolf.

[esoteric-codes]

Interview with Martin Kleppe

Martin Kleppe is best known as the creator of JSFuck, an esoteric coding style of JavaScript, allowing one to write fully functional JS with just six punctuation symbols. While it is similar in style to brainfuck, JSFuck is not an invented language but a discovered one; amazingly, it is native to JS. This means it is runnable as JavaScript without additional code to interpret the symbols or translate them into some other system. Kleppe's other projects deal with code that functions on multiple levels simultaneously; programs that use their own code as display, or self-referential polyglots that contain markup, script, and image as a single text calling itself in different contexts.

» How did you first discover the weird features of JavaScript that make JSFuck possible? Was there a moment when you realized you could write essentially any JavaScript code in just the tiny set of JSFuck characters? 

This happened in 2012 when a friend showed me a Tweet with some cryptic JavaScript. There were no Latin letter involved but it was possible to execute the code and it resulted in a simple word. Nothing really fancy when I compare it to what is possible today but at that time I was super impressed! And it made me curious. 

So I started to walk through the code step by step (or better: char by char) and already learned a lot about type coercion in JavaScript. The basic idea was to convert primitive data types to a string (eg: true + [] == “true”) and then pull out single characters (eg: “t” from “true”[0]). These characters then can be joined together to generate new words. 

Then the question came up, if it is possible to get more than just a handful characters by playing this kind of Scrabble game. The solution was to access and call methods that generate new strings.

» The amazing thing about JSFuck is that it's all already there in JavaScript – you showed us a new approach to writing JS, rather than constructing a language artificially. What is it about JavaScript as a language that makes JSFuck possible? How/why did JavaScript end up this way? 

Some people say that JavaScript is a bad programming language and poorly designed. But I wouldn’t agree. In my opinion it was designed with a lot of freedom in mind – which is a good thing. It allows you to go in different directions and seek your own style. There were no strict types or rules how to use it, and many people came up with their own idea about how to solve problems. It is like a mutation or evolution that is unveiling new aspects. In my work, I always try to break a given limit. And a way to achieve this is by digging deeper and deeper to explore new areas that we not have thought of.

Two Aurebesh scripts

» Aurebesh.js extends the JSFuck approach, simplifying some of the combinations of symbols into letters from a list of alphabets. The scripts have very different aesthetics based on the alphabet, some of which look more obfuscated than others, but it’s still pretty abstract – from what I can tell, it’s using the letters to represent JS atomic parts which are then constructed into JS commands. Could you tell me a bit about why you went this direction?

Aesthetic was definitely one of the main reasons. Especially the style of other writing systems that we are not used to. I was always fascinated by words written in foreign alphabets, because you look at them and know that there is a meaning behind but you can not even read it. In school I learned Russian first and then English which was way easier for me, because the latin alphabet was something I was used to.

This and vodka were the reasons, why I first started the ЗВЕЗДА СМЕРТИ (Death Star) project. Later I was invited to JSConf.asia where I presented the Matrix intro sequence written with Asian characters only. Another conference led me to Tel Aviv that made me think, how JavaScript would look like when written in Hebrew from right to left.

The term “character” from the Greek “χαρακτήρ” combines many meanings and also reflects, that symbols has a different aesthetics. Aurebesh.js plays with that fact in a new context and let us translate code written in English into other writing systems.

When you look at these scripts, can you figure their behavior in your head or do you need to translate them into regular old javascript to see what they’re actually doing?

I’d love to say: Yes, I can read this code and parse it in my head. – But to be honest: I can’t! At least, it would need pen, paper and a couple of minutes to solve it. Like a crossword or sudoku puzzle. That’s why I build little helpers to do that for me.

Kleppe presenting at JSConf.eu 2014

» Could you explain a bit about the animated quines (Hello World 1k etc) and how this style developed? The animated quality adds a great immediacy to the minimized quine; the code shows us what it's doing even while we're reading it, giving a way past its obfuscation. 

Let’s explain the term “quine” first: A quine is a computer program which takes no input and produces a copy of its own source code as its only output. A simple one in ES6 is:

(Q=a=>alert('(Q='+Q+')()'))()

Quines are dealing with recursion as a topic, because when you execute the result, you will see the same result again and again. The /world was the first animated quine I did and it presented it at JSConf.eu in 2013. It is based on the Qlobe program by the incredible Yusuke Endoh. I saw that years ago and was so fascinated by the spinning world inside of code, that I wanted to do that in the browser. I decided to not read the Ruby source code but figure out everything at my one. It turned out that it was really a long and hard way to go but I learned more than ever before.

In the end it was shorter (exactly 1024 bytes) than the original and also included code highlighting. The feedback on this was overwhelming and I decided to do more. My second animated quine was Mandelcode – code shaped in the form of a Mandelbrot and once you click, it zooms into the fractal. After some time I started to evolve the topic and created the Matrix 雨 quine using Asian characters only and recently VOID where invisible code was used to hide the program itself.

» Please tell me about your new incept10n.com project

This may look different to what I did before, but in the core, it explores the limits of languages used in the Web, too. Incept10n is a so-called polyglot, a single file written in different languages. In our case the file is an image, a style sheet, a script and a web page – all at the same time. This works, because I manipulated the header section of an JPEG to inject code. When you run it in different contexts it will behave depending on its surrounding.

When you open the page in the web browser, it renders an HTML page. The HTML contains a reference to an external JavaScript pointing to the same file. This will execute it as a script that dynamically writes a CSS link tag. The loaded  file then renders a background image into a section of the page. This is finally the manipulated JPG, showing an image of the movie Inception.

There are other examples that merge images and scripts to bypass security restrictions or render a descriptive page around a funny squirrel picture. My motivation was to see how many levels of inceptions with different formats can be done in the browser. I wanted to go some steps further but stumbled many times. After some time I was not even sure if it will all work out. Reading the JPEG specs, fiddling with old-school HEX editors and learning some new command-line tricks helped me out in the end.