#(-does an first murder and is far more concerned about others sanity than with the sick feeling inside him-)

[godzexperiment]

*posts that brain rot only to post more xD* -nix encountering gabriel is quite literally an inner dialogue like "ah yes I can work with fellow victim of Cosmic Horrors, if I am tolerated and just maybe ignore my own issues." (could be bloody, having just done some fatal stabbings *highly moody* and nix is just like unphased by it) -ironically, in contrast encountering michael for nix would be far more terrifying for nix (his internal everything would be like 'neat- this is cool and he seems pretty adjusted... so how about you feel like you're in extreme danger despite that' and nix is just forced to be cagey as shit more than normal by forces out of his control)

[sweetmage]

I was talking to my friend about DAI's treatment of Anders the other day and how it drives me INSANE. This game is SO cruel and uncharitable to him! Firstly, the only time we EVER see his manifesto in canon (as far as I know) is in the house of a crazed murderer with a pile of bodies in his basement. Every single mention is placing the blame firmly on his shoulders. I know some people subscribe to the "Varric is distancing himself from their actions for his/their safety" which I subscribe to as well simply for my own sanity, but it does sometimes become hard to swallow when it's been revealed that (assuming you romanced him) he knew where Hawke and Anders were the entire time yet he continues to let others trash Anders while he chimes, etc. And I DO understand and sympathize with Varric in a way, Kirkwall was his home and when the war broke out there was mass death and destruction and he had to leave. Anders did play a role in that, but he only sped up the process, he was not the root cause and they were heading that direction anyway. Also, he saw Meritdith's red lyrium nonsense firsthand, he saw the cruelty that preceded it, and everything she did aligned with what Anders was so concerned about. The Thedas-wide fighting is not "blondie's mess". I originally had my imported Hawke set to "supported Anders" but I had to change it to "didn't support Anders" in my next playthrough because the supportive Hawke straight up calls him a "monster" so I found the alternative to somehow be the lesser of two evils. In the end, I guess that's more accurate to my Hawke anyway because he was upset that Anders went behind his back and didn't tell him first, he would have liked the time to prepare for the aftermath and all that. But yeah, the "I don't know if there ever was an Anders" from a conflicted but still loyal Hawke is easier for me to roll my eyes and ignore than "he wasn't a hero or a monster, maybe he was both" from a supportive Hawke. But ugh, I digress... As for the other main characters, I do understand that none of them knew Anders personally, they only know him from the big action he took with the chantry and nothing more. So I think it makes sense that they don't necessarily have a favorable view of him, some of them seem rather confused if anything. Not to mention a lot of them did not personally endure the circumstances that led Anders to do what he did. But I really would have loved for there to be more NPCs that supported him, especially when DA2 introduced "The Resolutionists" who seem to align pretty damn well with Anders.

And we got a character that supported Loghain which is a 10+ year old topic but not a single one that supported Anders who seems to be a hot-button issue atm? At the very least, I wish there were at least some people that questioned the whole "Anders did this, this is all his fault" narrative (especially once DAI itself revealed that the war did not, in fact, start because of Anders) or at least SOME differing opinions on him?? As far as I can tell, the only person who has been remotely charitable to him is Solas in this conversation (the thing my friend sent me that got me talking about it):

And the only other mention I could find of people that may have supported him is in the Annexing Kirkwall wartable mission where Sebastian mentions "Anders's associates" who he believes might know where he is. But then again, this is coming from the man who wants to march on a city of innocents for to find a man who probably isn't even there so should be taken with a huge grain of salt.

FWIW I now play with the mod that makes Aiding Kirkwall trigger every time because it better aligns with my HCs for Seb and I will never in my life kill Anders so... I actually like Sebastian even though I don't agree with him most of the time. I get his immediate hurt and betrayal at the end of DA2 because he effectively lost his family again, but I'd like to after 3 whole years of being prince he'd have cooled down enough to uhhh... not march on a bunch of innocents??? Which seems very antithetical to his character and development in DA2?? Annexing Kirkwall is silly, so I do not see it. But I digress, this is an Anders post!!

Anyway, I know I am not saying anything that hasn't been said to death by this point. I love each and every DA companion in their own way, regardless of whether or not I agree with them. But I feel like this is less an issue with them and more an issue with how the writers chose to frame the narrative. I do have to wonder if the fact that so many people hated and were averse to Anders made them think that this is what the people wanted. I have quite a few issues with Anders's writing and handling in DA2 as well, don't get me wrong, but at the very least I enjoyed the ability to support him all the way through.

[xwx404error]

One piece Little Nightmares.

Sanji— Insane desire.

Tw: blood, violence, murder, grotesque description, slightly +18, harassment. Dead dove, do not eat.

Under experiment. Might have a reboot.

Hands shaking. Blood drops streaming down the knife's blade. His heart clenches, his mind freezes.

Something's dead.

He could remember it. At first sight, a beautiful person to be mesmerized by. Such a woman should always be complimented, courted and pampered. He thought...maybe a bit too much about it. Always the one to love, never to be loved, right? A romance...he wanted some of it. He, as always, felt attracted. Sweetness, kindness and smartness were things that allured him, clearly. But he didn't expect the chase to end up on a catch. A perfect catch, actually.

Sanji wasn't concerned at the start. He was surprised, feeling extremely lucky. She was kind, with a big heart and appetite, an alluring face and a jaw dropping beauty. Though he couldn't bring himself to like her more than a simple crush, she was throwing herself at him; offering herself. That was strange...but flirting and Sanji were always synonyms, and on that day, a simple playful banter turned passionate, igniting a fire within them both, a friction of hearts, raising the heat. The blonde man didn't realize when he was already touching her curves, taking on her offer like he needed it. Pretty traces and pretty sounds, pushing onto a skin revealing session, an intimacy that he craved, from a woman. He didn't know why...why he succumbed so fast. Suddenly, she was on top of him, and not that he was unsatisfied or complaining, but he couldn't recall the motive as to why that could have happened. A bent over woman just for him, but one that seemed...off?

So why?

That eventually danced away with time as they would keep talking normally and even flirting...more obsessively. No, he wasn't obsessed, he thought. A time like that with someone...does it bring obsession over one's mind? Obviously not. She kept latching on to him. The cook was feeling overwhelmed...this girl had something far from a crush, didn't she? Even if he saw her suspiciously doing the same to others, she eventually turned to aim at him, because he gave her attention.

Attention. Maybe she wanted it. He thought of giving her some more, to try and get rid of her constant overflowing ogling, a suffocating banter. That didn't work, it worsened everything. He felt lonely when smoking, he felt lonely without the obsessive demonstration of intimacy that woman gave him. The weird "love" she would give, that made his body wither until it died, dried out. She was like a vampire, sucking all of his sanity out of him. Sucking his time, patience and well being. He didn't understand why he couldn't get rid of a person like this, that seemed to attract him more by offering exactly what he needed. His thing for women never got far from him being dismissed after being a sucker for them, but this one girl was different. It was both pleasing and disgusting. A part of him wanted it to go on, so he could have the love of a woman all for himself, finally, but the other part was grossed out, terrified of the headache of always thinking of her and feeling hopeful, but remembering he doesn't like her and that she's ruining his days. Sanji wanted to work in peace, to focus on something else.

Vespera was her name. She was in the crew for a few months, seemingly sweet and clingy, always excited and a very good listener. Not that it mattered at the point. A very thrown female and a good smooth talker. Convincing others of doing what she wanted was easy, forcing them was also an option. A rotten fruit. A huge ego. Her hunger wasn't over until she was done. Was she a nymphomaniac? A hopeless romantic? A desperate lover? The man had his head throbbing in stress after every single day. That ship wasn't the same anymore and he was doing his best to disguise everything that was happening, because, for some reason, Sanji couldn't bring himself to speak, even if questioned. Vespera, on the other hand, would always find a way to tease other people. Flirting with them, leading them on. Other girls, other guys. Why did she want more when she already had him? No, Vespera didn't have him, it was just...what was it? It put the guy in an anxious state.

Some days, Vespera didn't bother him too much, but in others, she would curse his life with her obnoxious presence. It went from being overly clingy to being demanding. They kissed on the main deck when no one was around, pressing their bodies together, pushing their tongues inside each other's mouths. It was oddly comforting...oddly good, to have the heat of Vespera's lips, wasn't it? No, it wasn't.

Yes, it was.

Blood. His mouth was full of blood and his tongue felt numb. He opened his eyes, widening those blue eyes to the feeling of her teeth biting on him, pulling his lower lip, sinking those teeth on the flesh of his tongue and pulling it like a dog with rabies. It hurt. It hurt a lot. He struggled to get out of her grasp, covering his mouth, tasting the metallic taste of blood that dripped between his fingers. What the hell was that for? He gave her a glare and she smiled, wiping her mouth, pleading him: "let me lick your face!"

What?

He ran off the deck, that lady wasn't normal. Sanji wanted to heal by himself, pretending he just had a very bad tongue cold sore and that he bit his lip while eating, which made his crew mates worried...he was acting off, clearly. No, he didn't want to say anything yet, it was embarrassing...but one thing he knew for sure. Enough.

Month 8. They docked on an island for supplies, roaming around and getting what was needed. He called her on an alleyway.

—I don't like you.—Done.—I said it before, but just so it ends, I really don't like you. I'm sorry if I made you think I did. I was confused.

Silence. He goes on.

—And after that fucking incident, I want you to stay away from me. I want you out of this crew, I swear I'll tell everyone what you are.

—And what am I?

Nothing. The blonde felt stressed, nervous. It seemed off to cut her out, but it was needed.

—Vespera, do you hear me? Stay away from me. I don't know why it got to this point.—He wasn't in his right mind, right? His normal self would have cut this freak off as soon as possible.—But stop bothering me. I will tell the others about what happened. Leave me alone. I don't want you.

—You'll regret this.

Regret. That guy had so many regrets already, why would that be one of them? Relief washed over him when she left, but his mind was still shuffled. Was it a good idea? Yes, of course. Was it? His heart raced. How would he tell the crew? They all loved her. It was weird...it was so weird...night fell and the world fell too. Back on the ship, he didn't expect to see that weirdo on the railing. He ignored, walking off to the dorms, stopping when something fell on the water by his peripheral vision. Did she...jump? He panicked. The girl killed herself, out of the blue. No, no, no, it was his fault. It was all his fault. Sanji looked at the water. Should he try to save Vespera? The water wasn't good. Her body disappeared. He ran to the dorms and forced himself to sleep. She was gone. Was it the right choice? He could just pretend he didn't see anything.

What the actual fuck...

The next morning, Sanji has dark circles under his eyes. The guy didn't sleep at all. Cooking breakfast was his only distraction.

—Did I worry you too much?—Sanji froze, turning around.—Do you know you killed me?

That drove him insane. Killed her? He killed her? So she really did die, and he was seeing a ghost. His back touched the stove, burning him a bit. It didn't take long for Luffy to come inside the kitchen, not even noticing the tension, asking for his food impatiently. But the weirdest part...he complimented both of them.

Both of them.

"Vespera came back from the dead" was in his thoughts all week. She was worse than before. He didn't have the guts to tell anyone even if he had the words to. He started to feel obsessed over it. Obsessed over this person he couldn't get rid of, that would keep dying and coming back without no one but him knowing about it. His mind was getting foggy...he was getting traumatized. He didn't want to let go, why? Why did she allure him?

WHY?!

She had an evil mind. Rotten to the core, a true demon. Taking his life slowly, screaming that he was her's, toying with that doll she had in hands. Sanji had a knife in hands as he sliced meat for lunch, sighing in exhaustion when she said "you will love me". It wasn't an order, nor a plea. It was a statement.

"that's what worries me." Sanji said. "What the hell are you?"

Nothing but silence could be heard. Vespera wanted to tear him limb for limb. He caught a glimpse of her sharp teeth between a quick smile. His orbs widened.

—What is this question?

No, he was tired, that's all. He was...exhausted. All he did was to rub his eyes and sigh. "I hate this. God, free me." The man grabbed the knife again, imagining things. He was being consumed. Cooking was the light of salvation...he had a bad feeling about today though. She didn't leave him alone at all and he didn't get enough sleep for a few days. All was messed up. His eyes go up to the wall when he hears the sound of something...crawling...like a snake? Slowly, he turned around to check.

"Why are you scared?" A lamia. Vespera's snake eyes turn darker. A serpent tail, pointy long nails.

"You're a monster..."

"Am I?"

(Uhh I'm gonna finish it later so this is kind of a wip ? I wanted to post it already so forgive me for that.)

Note: Vespera is my oc. I wanted to put another one piece character in her place, but didn't think it would fit so I created her. She's going to appear in other one piece horror one shots !

Extra note: I guess I'll rewrite this one later tbh. It's still under test. Thank you for reading :>

[skye-huntress]

Life is Strange: Double Exposure - My thoughts so far

With the livestream reveal over and I’ve had time to digest all the information, I’m ready to dive in.

First of all, the original Life is Strange, and Max Caulfield in particular, are both very important and precious to me. There has never been a protagonist I have related to more than Max and I was very invested in her journey and her relationship with Chloe. With that said, I am very intrigued with what Deck Nine has come up with for this new chapter in her life, now that she has grown up from an awkward, quirky teenager into an awkward, quirky adult, like me. For the record, I was indeed one of those people who recognised Max immediately in the trailer, and I’m just as baffled by all the people claiming it looks nothing like her.

Now, let’s address the blue haired elephant in the room. The livestream confirmed exactly what I assumed, the game will respect both endings by asking players to confirm their choices from the original game. I’ve seen a lot of people have a meltdown over seeing a small part of a conversation out of context, however it is too early to freak out or make assumptions until we’ve seen the whole thing and how it will work. I’ve preordered the Ultimate Edition, so when I get the first two chapters early, I’ll do a spoiler-free post going over how this will work, and I probably won’t be the only one providing this service to the community.

With that said, even if they are still dating, it doesn’t mean that Max and Chloe have to be attached at the hip. There are a number of plausible reasons why they would spend some time apart physically, even for months at a time. If this were the first few years after the storm, I would say it is unusual to be separated for too long, but it has been about a decade, long enough for them to calm their paranoia a little.

In saying that, if they are still together, it might actually be a good thing that Chloe isn’t around for Max’s latest escapade. Firstly, Chloe has died or almost died enough times to traumatise Max for several lifetimes, so Max wouldn’t want her girlfriend/wife anywhere near another murderer. Secondly, and this is one of the first things that came to my mind, consider the implications of how Max’s new power works. The livestream even confirmed one thing I was concerned about, that Max will be interacting with two different versions of most of the people she meets. How do you think Max would cope having to manage her relationship with two versions of her girlfriend/wife, and also trying to make sure both versions are safe? Not to mention, when this is all over, I assume Max will be stuck in one timeline, and we don’t really know how that will work. Which version of Chloe will she be stuck with and what happens to the other one? Does she get her own version of Max? No no no! If I were Max, I’d already know what I’d do. I’d make sure Chloe stayed as far away from Caledon as possible for the time being, until this nonsense is resolved, for her safety and my sanity.

With all that out of the way, I think it is very interesting to have an older Max as the protagonist this time around. She has experience with both the supernatural and mysteries that a newer protagonist normally lacks, but also trauma as well. Judging by the gameplay we saw, that trauma worked against Max causing her to behave strangely and hear things that may or may not have happened in real time. I’m also of the theory that her power may be reacting to someone or something else, and that it is no coincidence Max’s past started to haunt her leading up to Safi’s death. This mystery certainly seems a lot more complicated and intriguing compared to the others, and out of all the other protagonists in this series, Max is perhaps uniquely suited to solving this one.

Here’s my plan. As I said, I’ve preordered the Ultimate Edition, so I’ll have early access to the first two chapters. I can’t say what my schedule will look like but after my first blind playthrough, the first thing I’ll look into and play around with is the part you confirm Max’s past choices with Safi and how the affects everything. Then I’ll do post here where I’ll avoid spoilers as much as possible. Then afterwards, I’ll probably do what I do with the original game and Before the Storm where I write about the choices I made and rational behind them. These will be marked by a spoiler tag, plus the “lis choices” tag I used in the past. I intended to do this with True Colors as well but never got around to it. Might be a good way to kill time since we’ve got four months of waiting. Plus, I can’t not replay the first two games.

To sum up, be prepared for me to not shut up about Life is Strange for the next few months.

[inkdemonapologist]

We briefly split up while trying to get murder mystery clues in our latest batim cthulhu session; Team Polite Boys is ready to go!!

More out-of-context quotes from last session under the cut!

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Joey] Yeah, that makes sense, he probably would've pocketed it, [Sammy] aRE YOU STEALING?! [Henry] Joey!!! [Joey] I mean...................................yeah,

[Joey] He just wants to find the slick stone, and fix things, and go back to being an animation studio! That'd be nice! [GM] The eternal dream... [Jack] Animation studio, and then it has a little asterisk, and in the fine print it mentions that they also deal in the occult. [Joey] Just a little bit. [Jack] Little an occult, [Sammy] As a treat! [Joey] The occult does not own more than 5% of Joey Drew Studios stock. [GM] ...Is that Prophet Sammy's share, [Joey] He DOES seem to be the one investing in it the most!!

[Joey] There's definitely room for Jack to speak up as the one who knows Peter, but Joey is just going to go up to the front desk -- [Sammy] (Joey has now met him, so it's less weird,) [Joey] -- and ask if Petey is around! [Sammy] (...oh my goodness, Joey,)

[GM, as Peter] "And I could find someone to be a guide for you tomorrow, be less likely to fall in a sinkhole." [Joey] *thoughtfully* I do like not falling in sinkholes,

[Jack] *rolls* Aww.... [GM] Uh-oh, [Jack] No, it's-- it's not a failed roll. I thought it was very briefly and, gOT MY HOPES UP I GUESS???

[Joey] But that's going to be a very.... difficult............ [Sammy] I dunno, maybe Henry can talk to Fowler. Henry's like......... a,, caring person! Henry knows how families work.... Has, empathy,,, [Joey] Just send Henry and Jack to go talk with Fowler, and Joey and Sammy go.... sit on their hands. Don't do anything. DON'T MAKE THINGS WORSE

[GM] Mostly he's known for having more money than sense-- [Joey] (More dollars than cents? :D ) [Sammy] Well, you should get along great.

[Jack] Team Sad Boys to the sad boy, and... Team No Sense,

[Joey] Hey, can we borrow a brain cell? [Sammy] No, we only have one! That's why we never split up!!

[Henry] Jack is wondering how these guys got through Haiti. [Sammy] Well. It took us ten tries.

[after reading Alice in Wonderland] [Jack] *laughing* Do I need to roll a sanity check? [GM] One thing at a time; let me do a little typing-- [Jack] Oh bOY! ....I was just making a funny joke...! [GM] *sends secret message* Okay! [Jack] OH BOY,,, Jack just wanted a nice way to fill the time... [GM] Uh, do make a sanity check.

[Joey] Maybe it's because Joey has Bendy in him, that he can't see something in that book. [Sammy] (Hmm....... Bendy-Vision.........) [Sammy] (!!!! SILLYVISION)

[Sammy] Gonna tell Joey to, don't look up at the door, [Joey] Joey will almost start to look, and then catch himself the moment he realises why Sammy might be telling him this. [GM] This is why the Lurker covered his eyes that other time!!! [Joey] LiSTEN,

[Joey] ...I just noticed Joey fits the Gays Don't Drive thing...

[Sammy] Sammy looks very suspicious, but that's just his face.

[Joey] I like how Sammy apparently has ink-sense now, like spidey-sense [Sammy] YeaH ITS GREAT!!!! Sammy's very stressed!!!!!

[Joey] Once they've left the mansion and gotten far enough away, Joey's going to drop his over-friendly demeanour for a moment and mutter that he hates people like that guy. [GM] .............................................. is this a Kyle, [Joey] YES.

[Jack] I assume that Joey has given us money, at some point? [Joey] [Jack] He's not just expecting us to fund this out of our pocket, hopefully??? [Joey] ............................ has anyone brought this up to Joey,

[Henry] What insanity did Jack pick up, by the way? [Jack] Hmm.... [Jack] [Jack] Oh, y'know,

[Henry] Roll Charm to start a conversation in a normal, non-awkward way!!

[Jack] A nice change of topic to-- maybe not lighten the mood, but, [Sammy] dredge the mood up from the bottom of the lake,

[Joey] He keeps his hand on Sammy, trying to be reassuring that he's there to help Sammy with this, but also making sure it still looks NOT IN A GAY WAY, as much as Joey Drew can do.

[GM] Okay, one sec. [Joey] .....the longer we sit here waiting, the more I recalibrate that scene I just described to be gayer and gayer. [Sammy] Oh no. You have to hurry, or else it'll be retconned until they're making out on the porch when Joey knocks!

[Joey] I did hear that this guy is quite handsome, but I think right now Joey's too concerned about Sammy to play into Charm. [GM] Charm the... recent widower??? That seems.... [Joey] Yeah, y'know, as you do-- it could work! Just because his family is dead doesn't mean he's dead! [Sammy] Joey. [Jack] This IS Joey "Flirts With A Married Man" Drew, [GM] TRUE. That's true.

[GM] Fowler knows this spiritual consultant is legitimate because he's put him in contact with his family, that had recently passed away, on more than one occasion. [Henry] (Passed away on more than one occasion? Man, that's rough.) [Sammy] (I mean, we've done that!) [Henry] We have! It's rough!!

[GM, as Fowler] "A lot of newbies think magic feels weird when they're not used to it, y'know." [Sammy] Sammy's response is going to be to make uncomfortable eye contact, for a very long time.

[Sammy] Let me poll the audience: Should I be stopping Trenchcoat. [Jack] Out of character, I want to say, hesitantly no? [Henry] Yeah, same. [Sammy] I'm way more suspicious of Fowler than Trenchcoat, weirdly. [Henry] I want to let Trenchcoat go, and then track him down and grill him later. [Jack] I feel like Trenchcoat is suspicious in the same way that we're suspicious. [Sammy] YES.

[GM] I do appreciate that you guys were like "this guy's a shoplifter" and then promptly shoplifted.

[Joey] Why are you everywhere that we are? [GM, as Trenchcoat Guy] "I could ask you the same thing," he remarks, seeming vaguely amused. [Joey] Well I asked it first!!!

[Trenchcoat Guy describes the teleportation portal into Fowler's basement] [Joey] Okay, that is... that is definitely suspicious, [Sammy] "sUSPICIOUS?!?"

[Sammy] Sammy is squinting at Joey as he leaves.... [Sammy] ...OH, [Sammy] Oh he needs a drink I bet; I'm not going to look at him actually, never mind. [Jack] ...I know you said "Not going to look at him” -- I briefly misheard as "Not going to lick him" [Sammy] I'm alSO NOT GOING TO DO THAT,

[GM] He says that until today, you guys were the most suspicious thing he'd come across. [Sammy] I mean... he's not wrong.

[Joey] (Does someone want to grab his contact information) [Sammy] Oh, Jack, do you want to do that? [Jack] Jack is... going to... not do that, [Sammy] ...oh. [Sammy] ...............is Jack okay?!

[Joey] And then Joey... grabs Henry? [GM] Henry is just getting hugged. [Joey] Ah. [Henry] Oh, hugs back! [Henry] He's hugging both of them, I'm guessing.

[GM] The Lurker sits down on the ground. [Joey] (Does he sit down normally for a person,) [GM] He just kind of falls backwards. And then goes "Ow!" [Henry] *laughs* Yeah, you can't do that when you're more than 3 feet tall.

[Jack] Concerned Jack faces.... I was going to say noises, but,

[Jack] Did we ever get Trenchcoat's name? [Sammy] No. [Joey] No. [Henry] He's the new Binoculars. [Sammy] I'm delighted every time Sammy gets to call someone Not Their Name.

[GM] It's just a normal, scrawled address, for a Mr. Polk. [Sammy] .........is it really, [GM] Yes. [Sammy] OH GOOD??? I didn't say it, but for the first paragraph of that audiolog I was like "nORMAN???" [Joey] .... AW, NOW I HAVE TO HIRE HIM!!! THREN!!!!! [Sammy] Oh he was working with microfilm too! So he could probably-- [Henry] It sounded like he was gonna be out of a job soon, [Joey] DAMMIT!!

[philliamwrites]

killing me softly with his song | (Childe / Reader) [chpt.02]

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Childe / Reader

Tags: #fem!reader, #from childhood friends to lovers, #reader is a fatui agent, #slow burn, #unresolved sexual tension, #mature language, #forbidden love

Words: 3.5k

Summary: "Lybuov zla, polyubish i kozla,“ sighs your sister as she wipes off the table, but that makes you feel even more miserable. Falling for a goat might save you from an actual heartbreak by Tartaglia’s hands.

Notes: Part 1

Masterlist

Chapter 2

At the barracks’ canteen reigns the unspoken rule that no one is allowed to cook borsch, and trying to do so is punished by cleaning all windows with cold water only in the middle of the night. Can’t see anything because the nights at the outskirts of Zapolyarny are blacker than out in the taiga? Tough luck. There are so many different recipes as there are families out there, and everyone has their very own way to make it. Fatui agents have brought each other to the hospital wing over fighting which recipe is the best, therefore a couple of years before Tartaglia and you enrolled, this rule was established.

Sitting out in the cold of Jaroslawk at four in the morning, you’d kill for a hot bowl of your mamochka’s borsch—the best in Morepesok even though Tartaglia begs to differ, but the only problem with his claim is that he is fucking wrong.

Through your binoculars you see everything is quiet and dark on the other side of the compound, which is a good sign. Unfortunately, good also means very boring. You’ve been lying in the exact same position for nearly three hours now: on your belly, elbows slightly propping your upper body to see the Baron’s estate that’s embraced by a forest like a mother cradling its child. Tales have it if you make even one little mistake inside those cold brick walls, Baron Igor would personally see to it that you don’t leave these woods alive and whatever his hellish guard dogs don’t finish eating up, his servants would send to your family as a small parting gift and warning to get as far and fast away as possible.

If only he were as thorough covering his tracks as he is scaring people, but Baron Igor has never really excelled at multiple things and now, months after the first little bird brought some interesting insight, you can’t wait for Baron Igor to finally slip and confirm the rumours about him selling information on one of Il Dottore’s gun research labs to a spy from Sumeru. Intel has it exchanges usually occur once every full moon and with the orb now hidden behind thick, black clouds, this is the last chance to get some evidence before the ship leaving to Sumeru carries whoever deserves a knife in their windpipe back to their God of Wisdom.

Baron Igor has messed up, got too arrogant, and now you and your team are here to make sure he eats up his mess. It wasn’t easy to infiltrate his mansion. Mitsuki only passed because you took out two of the other contesters for one of the Baron’s favourite restaurants down in Nowobirsk. That man bows to greed and when introduced to the place’s new maître d’hôtel—the best of his kind, the most exotic to own during their flimsy ceasefire with Inazuma—Baron Igor acted swiftly and hired him. Mitsuki had gagged at those words while lieutenant Scaramouche had shown the patience of a man barely holding himself back from violence. Two days later, Mitsuki took his position as spy and head waiter of the Baron’s personal restaurant taking up the whole second floor in the right wing of his stone mansion.

“Fuck me, I look like a penguin,” Mitsuki had said on the night before his work began at the estate, glaring at himself in the mirror dressed in a sharply tailored tuxedo.

“Then we know who to call if Baron Igor decides to open a zoo,” Mikhail had said, but he was in no hurry to turn away his appreciative gaze from how tight Mitsuki’s black pants tugged his slim legs and ass.

That’s the team, Mitsuki, you and Mikhail—Lock, Shock and Barrel, one of your fellow division’s comrade likes to call you for unknown reasons, simply laughing to himself and shaking his head as if trying to get rid of a good memory. Though for all that Scaramouche is concerned, to him you’re triple double and a clusterfuck he doesn’t want anywhere near him or so help him Her Majesty the Tsaritsa, he’ll stake your heads and scatter your remains to the seagulls terrorising the coast of Port Odessa.

“He loves us,” Mikhail likes to joke, even though you aren’t sure the words love and Scaramouche should be used in one sentence.

“One day, he’ll kill one of us with his bear hands and feel nothing,” Mitsuki commonly remarks, sounding like whatever you’d do to receive such a punishment is probably ghastly enough to justify being murdered.

“His hat is pretty neat,” is usually your only contribution and they both look at you as if you’re crazy.

“Any movement?” a voice asks from your right. Mikhail shakes still fresh snow from his head and shoulders as he dugs under the narrow doorway, looking like a puppy trying to shake itself dry. Now that a year has passed since a Geo Vision user crushed his right arm and healers had to amputate it to save his life, he’s adapted pretty well to only one arm and hand at his disposal. He’s balancing a cup in his palm while holding two paper bags with his fingers and somehow makes it look easy. He rejoins you at the window, carefully placing the steaming cup and one bag in front of you. You hand him your binoculars so he can see for himself, and inspect your breakfast. “Do I even want to know where you found,” you peak inside the bag, “pirozhky at a time like this?”

“Couple of blocks down there’s this place. Really nice lady, gave me one for free and added a little extra to our coffee.”

You take a sip, and instantly begin coughing and pounding your chest as it goes down burning. “Archons, that’s disgusting. Who in their right mind puts Fire-Water in their coffee?”

“I know, right?” Mikhail beams. “It’s genius.”

It’s ghastly. You take another sip. Horrible, really. But it keeps you warm and awake. So maybe it isn’t that bad at all.

While Mikhail observes the area, you dig into your beef and onion pirozhky. There’s nothing fun about pulling an all-nighter but sometimes sharing a cup of coffee and eating warm food helps to get through them. Also knowing someone suffers with you. Sharing pain is gain, after all.

“Well, they sure like taking their sweet time,” Mikhail mumbles, getting a little more comfortable on the cold stone ground. He puts the binoculars away and digs into his own food. “What are we gonna do if nothing happens today?”

“Then we’ll come back next month and do it all over again.” Hopefully you don’t have to. Fyrva’snezh was two weeks ago but this winter started off particularly brutal. Two out of three units are still missing from their outskirts training and you don’t want to be in the poor lasses’ and lads’ shoes who are still at the infirmary recovering from severe hypothermia. “What worries me more is that Mitsuki might lose his sanity if he stays there another whole month.”

“Well, what doesn’t kill him makes him stronger,” Mikhail says, wiping his greasy fingers off his pants. “I just want to wipe that smug smirk off the Baron’s pig face.”

He and probably every citizen populating Jaroslawk. “Once Mitsuki locates the communication point, we’ll go in and neutralise the target if we can’t catch him alive,” you say. “Baron Igor will try and weasel his way out of it but so far all evidence stands against him. The rest is up to Her Majesty.” And the Tsaritsa is known for many things, but mercy isn’t one of them. That will show anyone else trying to make business behind her back.

“Do you really think Mitsuki will endure another month in that stupidly tight uniform?” Mikhail sounds like he very much wished for another month out in the cold like this if it meant Mitsuki would bless him for a while longer wearing his uniform.

You stretch your leg and kick him in his shin. “Don’t jinx this, Nozhyalensky,” you say. “No matter how good his ass looks in those pants, it isn’t worth freezing your own ass off out in this cold. If we have to extend our mission, I’m going to steal your coat and own it for the whole time.”

“You don’t care if I freeze to death?”

“I really don’t.”

He puts his hand on his heart in mock despair. “That’s harsh.”

It would be his own fault, no hard feelings. You sit in silence, sharing your scalding hot coffee. In the mansion on the other side, a light flickers on in the east wing. Mikhail shifts and makes a disgusted grunt. “I did not want to know the Baron is banging the Duchess of Pavlovich.”

“Might be good leverage in the future.” You quickly dot it down in your notebook, squinting at the barely illuminated page. “Especially if the Duke refuses to pay his taxes again. I’m sure we can get to him through her.”

More minutes pass in silence. Mikhail continues his watch while you start to mindlessly doodle a little Foul Legacy Child in the corner of your page. You wonder what time it is in Liyue. Is Childe also out on a mission or tugged in and sleeping well in a land that knows nothing of harsh winds and freezing nights. Does he spare a thought of home? Is he missing you as much as you miss him or has he already filled the gnawing void with faceless, warm women that comfort him at night?

“Heard anything from our comrades in Liyue?” Mikhail asks nonchalantly, but he’s always been the poorest liar of you three and it’s pretty obvious where this conversation is going. Part of you hungers for that conflict.

“They still can’t find whoever killed the Geo Archon. But Lord Childe might have located the Gnosis and has begun his infiltration.”

Chances are good he might succeed in another month or so, though from the letters you’ve received so far, it sounds like he might succeed fucking the consultant of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor before that. Tartaglia has never started anything serious with guys before, safe from occasionally drunk making outs, but new cultures could change a lot in you and it’s Tartaglia’s first time staying for so long in Liyue and meeting a man like this so called Zhongli.

Mikhail clicks his tongue in disgust. “I can’t believe this guy is over there for three months already and is still nowhere near finishing the job.” He spits at the ground and twists his mouth in a very familiar manner of annoyance—only usually this expression is meant for initiate Fatui members who can’t tell a shotgun from a sniper rifle.

“How can you still be mad at him for handing you your ass three years ago,” you say. A man’s ego is such a frail thing, thank the Tsaritsa for being a strong, independent woman.

“This isn’t about that stupid fight,” Mikhail splutters, red blotches creeping up his neck. His inability to lie is abysmal. “I don’t get how you stand that guy. His arrogance needs its own giant room to fit inside. Someone needs to knock him down a peg or two and maybe beat out this need to whore around as well—”

You move in a flash. Mikhail doesn’t have any time to react before he finds himself on his back, pinned down by your weight with a knife to his throat. “Mikhail, I love you like my own kin and you know I’d take a bullet for you any time,” you growl. “But speak another filthy word about Childe and I will cut off your tongue and feed it to street dogs while watching you bleed out like a slaughtered pig. Are we clear?”

You feel Mikhail’s chest rising and falling under your spread hand, his body warm, proof of his life. How easy it would be to take it from him, to warm the cold, dirty ground with his blood.

Mikhail’s dark eyes don’t give away anything. He’s holding very still, like a cornered animal faced with its hunter; don’t move and maybe it thinks one is dead. Eventually, he says quietly, “If you could see what an unlikeable, unpleasant person he really is, maybe...” He doesn't finish. There is no need to. You know very well what point he’s trying to make.

“I don’t need your supervision,” you say. “Or your pity.”

Mikhail barks a loud, humourless laugh. “Lassie, if I had an ounce of pity left for anyone else than myself, I wouldn’t be very good at this job, would I?”

You shift your weight. Mikhail groans as you put pressure on a wound a Pyro Vision user inflicted on him a week ago that hasn’t fully healed yet—a favour for Mikhail to prevent him from following his train of thought. You don’t know what is worse: His unrequited love for Mitsuki or Tartaglia and you knowing what you both want but can’t have.

Mikhail quietly says your name and gently lowers your hand. The sharp knife has bit into his skin just enough to leave a fine, red line on his throat. “All I’m saying is, I am not the bad guy here.”

He is right, of course. But that makes it even worse, because without a bad guy, who could you put blame on? Who would be the target of your frustration and your scorn? Who would pay for countless sleepless nights wasted alone or in a stranger’s arms?

If there is no good, no bad side, no villains or heroes to put blame on, what does that leave for you? Just the law. It is hard, but it is the law.

There is no one but yourself who carries the burden. Even knowing Tartaglia goes through the same doesn’t soothe the pain steadily growing in your heart. You’re like two stars gravitating to each other, seeking the sweet collision to finally become one and create something bigger, the most exquisite light in the endless black galaxy, but whenever you manage to come close to each other, other forces pull you apart.

You shift your position from towering above him to slumping back on Mikhail’s lap, your anger deflated like a balloon.

“Arguing with you is no fun,” you mumble, sheathing the knife back in its place inside your boot.

Mikhail arches one dark brow. “Learnt from the best. You don’t want to get into an argument with my mama.”

“Are you two leaving me out from a team bonding session?” comes a static voice from your left.

“Darling, we would never leave you out from a potential threesome,” Mikhail says back, a wicked grin flirting with his mouth.

“Blergh,” you groan in disgust and roll off him, grabbing for the plastic piece from where Mitsuki’s voice has sounded; Il Dottore’s newest invention, a voice transmitter agents use for long distance communication.

“So, how’s it cooking, good looking?” Mikhail asks, ignoring your eyes rolling back. “Anything new at the front?”

Mitsuki is silent for a moment. Somewhere, a dog barks. “I think someone might have tipped the Baron off.”

Immediately, you feel Mikhail's body tense next to you. “Do you need us to come in?”

Oppressive silence fills the room. Mikhail jerks, but before he can jump to rash actions, you grab his arm hard enough to bruise. He freezes, and you both stare at the voice transmitter in Mikhail’s hand.

A moment later, static crackles, and Mitsuki says, “I received a note on the caviar shipment. Roads are all clear, it should come in around seven in the morning.”

Mikhail relaxes, but a sweat bead rolls from his temple and disappears behind his black turtle neck sweater. He sags against you, exhaling very loudly.

A couple of years ago, after you three had been working together and hadn’t tried to kill each other as often as other teams, you guys had decided to come up with your own secret language for times like these. Mikhail had first complained about the hours put into learning it the most—the semantics always changing depending on what line of work you’d infiltrate—but eventually even he had agreed it was a pretty neat trick. What Mitsuki has said simply means all is in order and the mission is proceeding smoothly.

“Little fucker,” Mikhail grumbles, ruffling his own hair just to keep his hand busy. You agree. It feels like you’ve aged five years in those last five minutes.

That relief is short lived. A small explosion from the right wing inside the mansion lights up the night like a firework show. Mikhail is out of the window in a flash. You grab your rifle, keeping an eye on him as he crosses the street in a flash and climbs over the iron gate.

Two shadows tumble through the hole in the second floor. You sway your scope, laying eyes on Mitsuki as he wrestles with a cloaked figure. Purple sparks fly, clashing with crimson flames that rise skyward and turn into black smoke. At least something is according to plan even though your Cryo Vision would be more effective.

You watch them fight for a moment, unable to get a clear shot as both are short distance fighters. Mitsuki moves quicker than a flash, whirling two hatches over his head, parrying a deathly bow from the Sumeru’s Claymore. Mitsuki is smaller than most of his comrades. People like to underestimate him, but that’s part of the fun, according to him. Proving people wrong. He dodges another swift strike, rolling out of the way and giving you a clear sight at your target. But over his shoulder, Mitsuki catches your eyes and gives the tiniest shake of his head. Not yet.

You wish he could see the stingy eye you’re giving him right now. You’ve waited long enough out in this cold and your whole body shakes with the need to move, the need to fight. A quick look to Mikhail shows he’s fending off two of the Baron’s guards himself. Luckily, they can’t really hold their stand against a fully trained Fatui agent. He quickly takes out his opponents, closing in on Mitsuki and the Sumeru agent. Mitsuki has driven him to the edge of the forest. So that’s his plan. You wait until the spy is right beneath a long, thick branch, then pull the trigger. The shot is muffled by the silencer, slicing through the air with infused Cryo power. It hits its target, cutting the branch off. The Sumeru spy is too slow. When the branch buries him under its weight, Mikhail finally catches up to Mitsuki, and through your scope you can see him patting Mitsuki down for injuries. Mitsuki pushes him away, not hard or in a mean way, just enough to signal this isn’t the time. The job isn’t done yet.

Mitsuki advances the spy and kneels, looking for signs of life. He looks up, his dark eyes searching your scope. He holds your gaze, picking up his voice transmitter.

“I have good and bad news,” he says. “The spy is still alive, so we’ll get our answers. But now I’m pretty sure the Baron knows what’s going on.”

“Then don’t just stand there, someone go after him, quick!” you yell in your transmitter.

Before Mikhail dashes off, you hear him curse. “Lord Scaramouche is going to kill us.”

He will, considered this was supposed to undergo without the Baron noticing anything.

* * *

Dear little tygress,

forgive my horrible handwriting. I am still shaking from all the laughter your last letter gave me. Zhongli-xiansheng was actually worried for my wellbeing because I had choked on air and almost died. I swear, you will kill me one day, little tygress.

Speaking of little and potential lethal beasts, I’m surprised Scaramouche didn’t use your head as a toilet plunger. I really do think he's fond of you, little tygress. Any other team would be six feet under by now. You have to tell me your secret once I’m back. Scaramouche still doesn’t know I broke his favourite, ugly cup with the bear on the front from Fontaine, and I want to be prepared once he knows.

Everything is the same in Liyue, and at the same time, everything is changing. Rex Lapis’ murder is still unsolved, and I do enjoy watching the little traveller boy run around looking for answers. Once I return with the Geo Archon’s gnosis, dinner will be on me.

How are things at home? I hope Tonia hasn’t finished all mooncakes by herself again and saved some for the rest of the bunch. I can’t bear to hear Anthon cry again about me only sending sweets to Tonia and Teucer. Has the old man gotten in touch with you? He still doesn’t reply to me, but mama says he’s reading the letters. Maybe a bottle of Liyue’s Baijiu will loose his tongue, or hand for that matter. It’s almost as good as Fire-Water, promise.

Till next time and don’t get too much on little ‘Mouche’s nerves, otherwise there will be no room left for me.

Yours, Red Fox

__________________________________________________

please drop by my ko-fi if you enjoyed my writing!

[carboniteprincess]

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, Canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, character death, murder, you're literally a rebel sniper, it's enemies to lovers boba is not going to be nice to you yet, love at first fist fight, I cannot stress this enough, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, he's kind of arrogant? but he's young give him time

Pairing: Boba Fett x F! Reader | 2.0k words

You're arguably the best sniper in the entire rebel alliance, with hundreds of high ranking Imperial officials on your belt. When you're given the order to kill Boba Fett, you are under the impression that this would be like any other mission. Unfortunately, he seems to have great skill of getting out of situations that aren't in his favor. Now you're on Tatooine, where your comrade Orda has lured him into discussing business in a shady restaurant under the guise of being an Imperial Commander. His luck has to run out at some point, and you intend that to be today.

Crossposted on Ao3!

Being a rebel wasn't as glamorous as you thought. You weren't conducting high-level espionage or anything of the like. Instead, your penchant for sniping was homed in on, making you one of, if not the best in the entire squad. The only flaw you had, was arrogance. Never have you let a target walk away, never have you allowed yourself into a tight spot. 

You were always ahead of the enemy, so when your general gave you the order to kill Boba Fett. You assumed it would be an easy in and out job, perhaps he would've posed a threat to other members of your squad. But to you it would be simple, right? Unfortunately not. 

This is your third attempt at some kind of ambush, luring him into a perfect position. Mandalorian armor had few weak points, meaning you had to meticulously spend hours figuring out where would land a good, clean blow. His neck. If angled correctly, one tilt of his helmet and it would be over. Right through the jugular, no more bounty hunter. Another imperial dog to add to your list. 

If he would just turn his head, a little more to the right. Sweat beads on your forehead, eyes focused down the scope. Being a good assassin was all about your ability to linger, to wait. You're positioned on a balcony, a blind spot to the restaurant below. Your associate kept him talking under the guise of being an Imperial Commander, negotiating pay for the next rebel target. Boba Fett sits across from him, drink untouched. If you could see his face you'd swear he seemed bored. His legs wide open, leaning back nonchalantly. 

Fingers clenching on the trigger, you close your left eye. It wasn't like you enjoyed your job, when this war was over you'd swore to never lift a weapon again. The Empire made you, molding you like clay into a perfect killer. A painful truth, a driving force. Your parents. Both were medical professionals, caught smuggling medication to the galaxy's poorest. Promptly executed and then you, an orphan. A street urchin, nothing more. 

It wasn't long into your teens that you heard of the resistance, your heart burned with a want of revenge. So you got stronger, learned how to use a blaster, pilot and any skills that would make you useful to their cause. But you weren't a rebel, not really. You didn't care for politics, didn't even bother listening to the speeches about restoring the Republic. It didn't matter to you, but what did matter was taking out as many Imperials as you could before you die in battle or finally become numb to the anger. 

Self-preservation was no concern of yours, and that made you dangerous. A loose cannon, hot-tempered, and scarily a woman. You were used to being underestimated by your peers on gender, height, birth planet…. and you were the one who gets the high-profile missions. You were the one who has the highest accuracy, years of practice which left your trigger finger calloused, and every other emotion muted. 

Boba Fett had become a real thorn in your side. Threatening your record, career and possibly your sanity. His uncanny talent for escaping situations, even if all cards were against him, was exasperating. You would be lying if you didn't have some modicum of respect for him though, you were somewhat alike. Respect, no matter how great, does not destroy a death warrant. 

Someday soon his luck would run out, and it would be you at the other end of the blaster. That day was today. Lips twitching into a smirk, you watch his neck turn. Bingo. You steady your rifle, pulse pounding in your ears. At last, this mission would be over. You'd become a legend, the woman who killed Boba Fett. 

Bang. You take the shot, accurate as ever. A hum leaves your lips, watching him fall to the ground. Your calculations were correct, there was a weak point. Every armor has one, even Mandalorian. It was like a drug, the puzzle pieces clicking together with every fragility you discovered. 

The restaurant below descends into chaos, even the bartender is panicking. All guests rushing from their tables, abandoning their meals as your associate checks the man's pulse. You stare down your scope, watching the ordeal. He gives a thumbs-up, definitely dead. A buzz in your ear alerts you to a comlink.

"He's dead. But I think you'll want to come down here." Orda replies through static. Your brow creases, what the hell could've gone wrong. Muscles twitching with irritation, you make your way through the currently uninhabited building. You were ordered to avoid collateral damage by all means necessary, a false fire alarm did the job well. 

Your feet tap against the stairs as you make quick work of assessing your surroundings— if something is wrong, then it's always better safe than sorry. It seemed to be all clear, so you proceeded out the door and onto the street. This area of Mos Eisley was pretty habitable, aside from the abundance of criminal undertakings. Dust kicks as you march into the restaurant, pushing through various guests who were piling out at lightspeed. 

With a gruff, you finally make it to the rooftop, an exclusive VIP spot which proved difficult to doctor identity necessary to enter. You're about to start asking what the hell could've been so important that he dragged you down here, but your eyes meet Orda's now slumped body, face down with all color residing. A frustrated sigh leaves you, he was a good man. Even worse, he was a great rebel. His heart was in it, unlike yours. He shouldn't have been the casualty here. You reach down, pulling out his identichip and stashing it in your pocket. An action that you've taken with far too many of your comrades. 

Painfully you pull yourself from Orda's body, standing upright. Lingering would be a deathwish, whoever killed Orda was skilled. An impressive marksman, obviously one of Boba's accomplices who mistakenly thought he was the one that shot him. You could go over what-ifs later, right now you were going to finish the fucking job. 

The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in crimson constellations as the wind settled. Inspecting Boba's body was your primary concern, whatever Orda discovered, it cost him his life. You were determined to find out what exactly it was, from a glance it seemed like Boba Fett. With a grimace, you move his drooping head around. Concerningly heavier than expected, beskar is light and durable. 

You hook your fingertips under the helmet, pulling it off and coming face to face with…. not your target. Fuck. You'd be deceived, spectacularly. Knuckles white, feeling bile in your throat threatening to explode in a cocktail of frustration and admiration. The crudely made edges of the helmet abrasive against your palm, a reminder of your failure. 

Without a second thought, your balled fist comes into contact with the wall, encasing the helmet and sending tendrils of pain, a shock wave through your arm as you verbalize your confliction with a strangled scream. Orda died for nothing, you were a joke. Everything you had built, buried and locked away was floating to the surface. 

But you haven't felt this alive in years. Being outsmarted, so cunningly sent a morbid thrill up your spine. You could almost laugh, had you not heard footsteps approaching. Impulsively your hand fell to your blaster, making a mental note to thank your teacher for always carrying more than one. 

"Surely you didn't believe it was that easy to kill me." Before he can finish you turn, firing your blaster in his direction. Of course, his armor deflects it with ease. "I must admit, I'm impressed. Not everyone could distinguish beskar through weight alone." A snort leaves him at your feeble attempt to hold ground, looking over your pathetic secondary weapon that could barely injure an Ewok. 

"Go thing I'm not everyone then." You stand, keeping your right arm extended, blaster aimed at his inner thigh. It wouldn't kill him, however it would allow ample time for escape. "You killed my friend." He's circling you now. "Who's your Intel? How did you know I'd be here?" 

"You are hardly in the position to be making demands, little rebel." Another chuckle, you'd heard of him toying with his advisories before, but this was different. A teacher disciplining a student. 

"You're going to kill me anyway, what's the harm." You huff, shrugging. He stops pacing, chewing over your words. 

"Killing you would be a waste." That bastard. "Of my time and resources." He adds matter-of-factly. 

"Orda wasn't?" You spit, voice cracking in frustration. Figuring out what made others tick was your specialty, but the lack of motivation and reason within Boba's actions is what baffled you. 

"That was a favor." He sounds like you should be grateful, almost insulted that you hadn't figured it out yet even with him practically dangling the answer in front of you. Perhaps you weren't as clever as he thought. 

"A—favor? How would killing my comrade benefit me!" You reply astounded, cheeks burning red, hand shaking on your blaster. 

You think for a second, taking your eyes off him. Why did it take until after the kill for Orda to realize what was wrong with the body… He isn't… wouldn't…could've of… you've been double-crossed. "He wouldn't— I've spent months with him—" 

"And every little thing you did, he told me." His admission is calm, you look over Orda's body, no longer do you feel remorse. Just shame. You couldn't even see betrayal under your nose. 

You walk closer to him, the barrel of your blaster getting dangerously close. Nothing could stop you from finishing your mission right now, but he's letting you. Knowledge is far more appealing than rewards in the resistance. 

With your grip around the handle tight, you slam it down across his helmet, your knee reaching his groin. "You're very easy to fool." A smirk replaces the look of misery on your face, it was a dangerous game to pretend to let your guard down. Your risk paid off, managing to get a shot at his thigh. 

Swiftly, you press all your weight on him, knocking him back just enough to make a run for the edge of the balcony. He groans in pain, you're so close to the edge, escape almost in your grasp— when a grappling hook wraps around your ankle. 

You struggle against the cold floor, doing anything you can to wriggle free from his grasp.

It's fruitless, as soon as he's in reach you're kicking him, hurtling all kinds of abuse. Your attempts to wrestle him are almost comical and in a frenzy, you grip the only thing that seems viable. His Helmet. You manage to free it, your fingers hooking under and pulling it off his head, sending it on the floor beside you. For a moment you're the one stunned, not him. 

Dark curls frame his face, a beautiful border to tanned skin. His nose is prominent but compliments his features. Scars pepper his face, but he's young. Younger than you thought. You watch as his forehead crinkles in anger, hands pinning yours beside your head. 

Wasting no time, you bring your head to crack his, sending him back with a kick to the stomach. Your nose pours from impact, dripping onto the floor as you clamber to your feet. 

"This isn't over." You hear his voice, unmodified. You rush to the edge, peering over and assessing if you can land in one of the speeders below. He stands, trying to rush over to stop you. "Don't!" 

With a wink, you throw yourself over the side. In seconds you're hurtling onto the street, watching a bare-faced Boba Fett grow smaller with each passing second. His eyes are widened in either admiration or shock for your bravery. 

He eventually dares to look over and finds that you're gone. Whoever you were, he finally had a worthy opponent. He would find you again. His little rebel. 

[esmeraldablazingsky]

I’ve finally hit my limit on the number of bad takes on the Lan parents I can see before I have to lay out all the reasons I disagree, so hello, I’m Blazie, and in this essay I will justify my visceral dislike of the assumption that Qingheng-jun married/imprisoned/had sex with Lan-furen against her will.

    Warning for mentions of rape (in context of Interpretations I Really Hate) and a very, VERY long post below the cut.

    Before I start going off about the finer points of all this, I want to make sure people are on the same page regarding what we actually know about what went down with Qingheng-jun and Lan-furen. What I say is based off the EXR translation of MDZS, for the sake of clarity, and although I don’t think the exact wording should be too important, feel free to let me know if you think I’ve missed an important bit of nuance or something (the whole story is in Chapter 64.)

    The story we get is told by Lan Xichen, and it goes like this: a young Qingheng-jun falls in love at first sight with Lan-furen, who doesn’t return his feelings, and at some point kills one of Qingheng-jun’s teachers over unspecified “grievances.” Although he’s understandably very upset over the murder, Qingheng-jun sneaks Lan-furen back to Cloud Recesses and officially marries her in order to announce to his clan that anyone who wants to hurt her has to go through him.

After that, he locks Lan-furen in one house and himself in another as a form of repentance. Wei Wuxian speculates that this was because “he could neither forgive the one who killed his teacher nor watch the death of the woman who he loved. He could only marry her to protect her life and force himself not to see her.” 

    A central detail of this story that I think people don’t give the import it deserves is that aside from marrying and protecting her, Qingheng-jun’s other option was to let Lan-furen be executed by his clan. His purpose in marrying her wasn’t just for kicks/out of a possessive sort of love, it was so she wouldn’t straight up die. How she felt about this arrangement isn’t stated, but I’ll get into that in a bit. In addition to that, Qingheng-jun and Lan-furen live separately, which was apparently purposeful on Qingheng-jun’s part, and runs counter to the interpretation that he intended to take sexual advantage of Lan-furen.

Though there aren’t many concrete details in Lan Xichen’s retelling, he does specifically inform Wei Wuxian that his mother never complained about remaining in her house. What exactly this signifies is unclear— whether she was simply putting on a brave face for her sons, or whether she was in fact at all content with the situation— but it at the very least serves to further muddy the waters on how she and Qingheng-jun felt about all this. 

Beyond what Lan Xichen and Wei Wuxian are saying out loud, there’s also quite a bit of subtext in this scene, especially in light of later events and revelations, like Lan Xichen’s confession for Lan Wangji at Guanyin Temple. 

So what is Lan Xichen trying to convey with all this? There’s a lot of memes about this scene, most of which err too far on the side of Himbo Airhead Lan Xichen for my liking, but one that I do find amusing emphasizes how Lan Xichen draws parallels between Wangxian and the story of his parents (Lan Xichen: [flute solo] please use your one brain cell to connect the dots.) If Wei Wuxian hadn’t completely lost his memory of Lan Wangji defending him against his own clan elders, one would assume that Lan Xichen’s story would have had a much better chance of hitting home. 

In hindsight and side by side, the parallels are much clearer— Qingheng-jun, “ignoring the objections from his clan… told everyone in the clan that she would be his wife for the rest of his life, that whoever wanted to harm her would have to pass through him first.” Similarly, according to Lan Xichen in Chapter 99, “for [Wei Wuxian,] not only did WangJi talk back to him, he even met with his sword the cultivators from the GusuLan Sect. He heavily injured all thirty-three of the seniors we asked to come.”

In that context, it makes a lot less sense to interpret Qingheng-jun as an aggressor towards Lan-furen, as in Lan Wangji’s case, the narrative clearly establishes that his actions are to secure Wei Wuxian’s safety. The action of Taking Someone Back To Cloud Recesses is— okay, actually, it’s a little more nuanced than I took into account when I started writing that sentence, so let me go a little deeper into Lan Wangji’s actions and how they relate to his father’s, story-wise. 

My intent is not to dive into the terrifying underworld of novel-versus-drama discourse, but simply put, Novel!Lan Wangji as he is written isn’t exactly the poster child for clear consent. (I’m going to entirely leave off the extra chapters for the sake of everyone’s sanity, so I’m just talking about the main body of the novel here.)

He means well, and I’m sure we can agree that he does actually love and want the best for Wei Wuxian, but his lack of communication on this point means that he accidentally gives Wei Wuxian the impression that he wants to imprison and/or punish him in Cloud Recesses at least twice off the top of my head (pre-timeskip, as we know, and post-timeskip immediately after Dafan Mountain when he actually drags Wei Wuxian back to his room.) 

That all likely has something to do with MXTX’s narrative kinks and regular kinks and all that, and can absolutely be taken with many grains of salt. However, these events establish how easy it is to misinterpret the action of Taking Someone Back To Gusu as an attempt to imprison rather than protect them (much to Lan Wangji’s chagrin.)

Failing to communicate his purpose to Wei Wuxian doesn’t mean that Lan Wangji actually had any intent of hurting or caging him— that was just a misinterpretation on Wei Wuxian’s part, and we, as the audience, find that out in due time— but as written in the novel, it can be really uncomfortable to read. Because of that, many people choose to accept CQL canon regarding Lan Wangji’s more possessive actions or mix characterization from different adaptations, which, to be clear, I completely understand and respect. 

However, Qingheng-jun doesn’t get the benefit of the doubt as often, which I frankly find baffling, because nowhere in the text does it state that Lan-furen objected to being taken back to Cloud Recesses, while even Wei Wuxian clearly objected the first few times. In fact, while we’re on this note, I’ll take it a step farther— I find it baffling that people seem to default to an unsympathetic view of Qingheng-jun, because nowhere in the text does it state that he overruled Lan-furen’s wishes in any way. The text doesn’t clarify a lot of things, actually, and that is part of the point. 

The narrators of MDZS are, in many situations, highly unreliable. This is, presumably, very purposeful! MDZS can easily be read as a sharp criticism of reputation and mass judgment and the concept of condemning people without knowing their motives! And I don’t want to sound mean, but guys… did any of us learn anything from that? Here, I’m going to put it in meme format for a second to convey what I mean. 

MDZS: It’s easy to condemn someone as a villain if you don’t know their story or the reasons behind their actions

MDZS: Anyway, here’s a character whose story and reasons behind his actions you know nothing about

Some Parts Of This Fandom: Ah, a villain 

    Memes aside, here’s what I want to point out. It’s entirely possible to assume Qingheng-jun was a bad person who disregarded a woman’s wishes in marrying and confining her when all you have is Lan Xichen’s (actually very neutral, thank you Lan Xichen for being an eminently reasonable and concerned-with-evidence character) account of what happened. It would also be at least that easy to assume Wei Wuxian was just an evil necromancer if he hadn’t un-died and brought his own story to light, or even to believe that Lan Wangji had somehow tamed Wei Wuxian into submission and being a respectable cultivator if you were an average citizen of Fantasy Ancient China with nothing but rumors to operate on. 

    The thing about Qingheng-jun and Lan-furen’s story, then, is that there is nobody left alive who knows the full tale. Nobody knows what they thought about anything, really. Nobody even knows why Lan-furen killed Qingheng-jun’s teacher. Wei Wuxian asks why, and Lan Xichen can’t tell him, but I think the best answer would be something along the lines of I don’t know, Wei Wuxian, why did you kill people? Your guess on the motivations of your own thinly disguised narrative parallel are as good as anyone’s. 

    So, while it’s not technically impossible to assign darker motives to Qingheng-jun, the cautionary tale of MDZS seems to warn against that exact assumption. 

    I’ve refrained from getting too salty on a personal level thus far, but now that I’ve said a lot of the more logical and story-based points of my argument, I will say that at least some of my annoyance with the interpretation of Qingheng-jun as a possessive rapist and Lan-furen as his victim stems from the fact that I just think it’s straight up boring. Where’s the nuance? Aren’t you tired of reducing these characters to the flattest possible versions of themselves? Don’t you just want to add a little flavor? 

    In a slightly more serious phrasing of that criticism, I find that making Lan-furen a helpless prisoner strips her of whatever agency she might otherwise have. To be fair, she’s more or less a non-character in keeping with the general state of the MDZS universe, but making her a damsel in distress only consigns her more deeply to hapless, milquetoast innocence. 

    It’s perfectly valid to enjoy ladies who have done nothing wrong, ever, in their lives, but like… Qin Su is right there, if that’s your ball game. There’s also really no need to make Qingheng-jun someone who doesn’t respect women. Isn’t Jin Guangshan enough for at least one universe? 

    Anyway, ultimately, you do you. I don’t like arguing on the internet, and will just ignore things I don’t agree with (or write an 1800 word vaguepost) like a mature human being. I’m just saying, if it’s a cut and dry tale of imprisonment and assault you’re looking for… you probably don’t want to turn to a woman who committed a murder and a man who loved her enough to forfeit everything to keep her safe. 

[truisticrhino28]

Insanity, by TruisitcRhino28

Prologue:

It is the year 3642 BBY. Revan has been freed by the Jedi Order, and the Sith Emperor lies dormant on Yavin 4. This information is a well-kept secret, though not well-kept enough, because a brash young Jedi Padawan finds out about the Emperor’s awakening…

  Chapter 1: Brashness and Secrecy:

Padawan Vold Sagar was very strong in the Force; however, he was also very, very brash and reckless. He often let his emotions get the better of him and never really liked to come up with a plan, often preferring to rush into things head-on and improvise as he went along. This made him frowned upon by many of the Masters in the Order, particularly on the Council. Naturally, this meant that they did not consider Vold a good example of what a Jedi Knight, and thus, refused to elevate his status from Padawan to Knight. Upon hearing this news from his Master, Claudios Brenthen, he felt mocked, insulted, and most of all, furious.

“How dare the Council deny me the rank of Knight?! How dare they, those conservative old fools! I worked my butt off to become a Jedi! I did everything the Council requested of me, everything! And now those staid archaic bastards refuse to promote me!”, Vold was yelling in a fit of rage.

“It is not a matter of personal grudges with the Council. The sole reason you were not promoted is because you are brash. You never think twice, never form a plan. You are impulsive, and impulsiveness can be a very dangerous thing.” “I do not mean these remarks as insults, for few things can be insults if they are true”, replied Claudios in a calm but serious tone.

“I know, Master, and you are not the one I am mad at. Everything is making me so mad, the Council, this war, the Empire, everything!!”

“Remember, there is no emotion there is peace”, Claudios reminded calmly.

“Yes, Master”, Vold said in resignation, knowing that trying to continue the argument was pointless. With that, Claudios left meditate on the Jedi Temple grounds. Vold however, was still very mad at the Council and was desperate to prove himself. As such, he naturally thought that the only way to prove himself worthy was to gain power, of a darker kind.

 Chapter 2: Hidden Power and Hidden Love:

Vold carefully made his way to his Master’s quarters and once he had entered unseen and knew he was secure, he began searching through the Force for his Master’s locked away Sith scroll. After a few minutes, he found it and retrieved it from its hiding place. As he carefully opened it and read the first words, he saw the name “the Sith Emperor”. Vold was fascinated by this, and began pouring through the text on the scroll, until he happened upon a location: Yavin 4. He was familiar with the location of Yavin 4; it had been the primary base of operations of the famous Sith Lords Exar Kun and Naga Sadow. What does the Sith Emperor want with Yavin 4? Vold then remembered that the Sith Emperor had previously been defeated at the hands of the Hero of Tython. Perhaps he is waiting until he regains his strength. That means he is weak, and ripe for the killing. Defeating the Sith Emperor once and for all will surely give the Council cause to promote me to a Jedi Knight. With this in mind, Vold realized he had taken up a large amount of time looking at the scroll and swiftly exited his Master’s quarters unseen, leaving everything in the condition it was in before he entered. He then headed to visit his lover, fellow Padawan Nehani Forrez. The two of them had trained together as younglings, and had begun to deeply care for each other, feelings that eventually blossomed into love. As he entered her quarters, they embraced and began making out, as they usually did when they saw each other. When they had finished, they stood holding hands and Vold began saying, “Nehani, I’ve finally figured it out.”

“Figured out what, Vold?”, Nehani asked in curiosity.

“I’ve finally figured out how I can become a Jedi Knight!”, exclaimed Vold excitedly. “I will go to Yavin 4 and once and for all defeat the Sith Emperor!”.

Nehani had many questions about this. “How did you acquire this information? Why are you doing this? Does your master know of this? How do you know this is even possible?”.

“I must become a Jedi Knight. I must prove myself to those staid old fools on the Council that I am truly strong enough. The only way to do that is to kill the Sith Emperor.”

“But you’ll die!”, Nehani objected in concern. “To try and do that is utter insanity! Have you never heard the stories? The tales of absolute cruelty the Emperor committed on its victims? If you failed, then you would go insane, and constantly wish for and be denied the glorious privilege of death.”

“No matter what happens to me, as long as the Sith Emperor lies dead, I will have proved myself at last.” Nehani had no further words. Vold gave her one last kiss on the cheeks before leaving, satisfied he had explained his point. “Do not come for me, nor mourn my death. Your future as a Jedi is too important”, he finished. He then left Nehani and headed in secret for his ship, the Passionate Champion.

 Chapter 3: The Hunt for The Emperor:

As the Passionate Champion exited hyperspace, Vold was overtaken momentarily by dark imagery. Mental images of agony, screaming, and death flooded his mind. And at the source of all of it was the Sith Emperor. For most, this would have immediately deterred even the most mentally strong-willed being. But for Vold, this was only further motivation and reason that the Sith Emperor was a soulless monster that must be destroyed. He landed and exited his ship and began meditating in search of the Emperor. Once he’d found the Emperor’s location, he headed there at speeds unheard of to the human mind simply by using Force Speed. Once he’d happened upon the temple, he stopped, and cautiously sensed for any possible threats in the surrounding area. Once he felt it was safe, he ignited his lightsaber and entered the temple. Not soon after he had entered, he began to feel weakened and groggy, and eventually collapsed unconscious on the floor. When he woke up, he didn’t know where he was in the temple. Seeing his lightsaber, Vold tried to get up and use the Force to retrieve it, but he was snapped down to the ground, like an invisible presence had pushed him back. Next, he was bombarded with an assault of terrible images, similar to the ones he’d been bombarded with as he’d entered the atmosphere. Except this time, Vold was seeing a blurred vision of his future. He saw a person killing and murdering all life on Yavin 4. A person with dark eyes. A person that looked very similar to himself. A person he realized… was himself!  No! It... can’t be! How is this possible? How? Vold then went unconscious again, and when he woke up, he found himself outside the Temple and empowered with a new strength, something far, far stronger. A power, he felt, one that would bring him victory. Then, as he looked at a tree, he saw not a tree, but the image of the Emperor. Driven by nothing but mad rage, he brutally slaughtered the tree. Vold then thought that he had defeated the Emperor, but then saw his image on another tree, so he cut down that tree, and another, and another, and more and more trees until he had cut a sixth of the forest, he was standing in. Losing sanity more by the second, he screamed a yell of dark rage that could be heard across the galaxy.

 Chapter 4: The Call Heard Across the Galaxy:

Claudios was meditating in his quarters when he sensed a grave disturbance in the Force: his apprentice was in trouble. He was going to exit his quarters when he noticed something off, something he hadn’t noticed before. It appeared as if something had been left open. He opened his library cabinet, and nothing had been stolen, but one thing had been opened. As he opened the scroll about the Emperor, he read the entire scroll, and came upon a clause of the scroll regarding the Emperor’s horrific abilities to take control of people. It mentioned Revan, along with some other examples, but one part of this read of how the Emperor could drive people insane by making them see infinite projections of himself. He then thought back to his conversations with Vold. Realizing the terrible danger Vold was in, he rushed to his starship, and headed to Yavin 4, completely unaware that Nehani had boarded the ship in secret.

   Chapter 5: Unheard Pleas and Failed Persuasions:

Claudios’s ship exited hyperspace and immediately he was hit with disturbing Force visions, but he ignored them by projecting a field of light side energy around his ship. As he landed on the planet and exited his ship, he was in shock of the pure dark energy on the world. He realized however that this would do nothing but stall for time, so he quickly went in search of Vold. After a decent bit of traveling, he eventually ran into Vold brutally slashing trees and wildlife all around him. He realized this would be much more difficult than he had originally anticipated.

Vold was on a killing streak murdering everything within his path of sight that he thought resembled the Emperor. By this point, the dark side was so strong in him it was like a hypotonic blood cell about to explode. Suddenly, all of his focus was concentrated on one singular being standing a good 200 meters away from Vold, in the midst of the forest fires and destruction Vold had caused. He recognized this being as his Master, however, all he could see was the image of the Emperor in his mind.

“You, whatever you are, you are not my Master! This is a trick! A deceit shaped by the Emperor to make me think you are not him! But I see the truth! His deceits may have gotten me before, but not anymore! I see you are him! And now, you will die.”

“Vold, listen to me! You are not yourself. The Emperor is driving you mad. Come with me and we can free you of his influence and the corruption of the dark side.”

“Lies! All lies! I know this is another deceit to throw me off track, but it will not work! I have become too powerful to be deceived by such trickery again.”

“Vold! This is not you! Please, I implore you, do not do this. If you continue on your current path, I will be forced to end your life, which is a deed I very much do not wish to commit.”

“These lies will not work! The opaqueness of you is nonexistent, for I am transparent to your true self! Now, you must die!”

With deep regrets, Claudios concluded, “It is with the deepest of rue that I am forced to fight you. I am sorry for not protecting you from the corruption of the dark side better. Such flaws are the signs of a bad teacher, and a withered old fool. With that, Vold launched toward Claudios in fury, and he was barely able to defend the pure hatred of the first strike. Defend it he did though, and he proceeded to use a Force push to lift Vold off of his feet, in hopes of possibly knocking him unconscious. This only momentarily disrupted Vold however, and once he’d gotten back up on his feet, he used the Force to send waves of fire toward Claudios. Claudios responded to this attack by raising water from a nearby marsh to counter this. However, this gave Vold the opportunity to strike. Catching Claudios off guard, he threw his lightsaber at Claudios, forcing him to redirect his focus for a mere millisecond, causing fire to seep through his defenses and cause him critical burns. Wincing from pain, Claudios tried to use a Force Wave to push Vold away and give himself time to recover. However, Vold merely brushed past this, and instead threw his full strength into a single Force Wave, forcing Claudios to counter the interaction, an interaction which he lost. The sheer power of the Force Wave shattered many bones in Claudios’s body, leaving what was left of him barely alive and scrunched up, like a crumbled piece of paper. Vold then made the finishing move and killed him without a second thought. Then, at this very moment, Vold was released from the control of the Emperor, and everything was replayed in his head, the incineration of trees, the mindless slaughter of the life, and the murdering of his Master. Completely overcome with emotions and with no time to process them, he entered a state of insane grief and thrashed at everything around him, at which point he was again put under control of the Emperor, and even madder now he began brutally annihilating the flora and fauna at an alarmingly more intense level than before.

Nehani had been overtaken by the dark imagery, and had struggled to recover, but once she had, she’d carefully followed Claudios out of sight and had cried when she had seen Claudios die. That said, she knew she probably had one last chance to plea for Vold before he destroyed the entire planet.

 Chapter 6: Insanity:

Nehani made her way toward Vold in nervous strides. Vold, sensing her through the Force, stopped and dashed to confront her.

Nehani began by yelling, “Vold! This isn’t you! I know you! The real Vold would have never killed his Master like that.”

Vold would hear none of it, and countered by yelling back, “You, you evil, cursed wretched being!! You made me kill my Master!! I will decapitate you; I will choke you but make sure you still hold breath, I will make sure you bleed, but still do not bleed dry. I will make you suffer like no being has ever suffered before!!” And with that, Vold began to choke Nehani all the while slowly cutting open parts of her skin. She tried to resist, but to no avail. She couldn’t scream at the pain, for she was too busy merely struggling for air. This continued for another 3 hours, at which point Nehani finally crumbled and died. It was at this point that the Emperor lost interest in Vold, and released control of him so he could go back to lying dormant. This shattered Vold’s mind utterly and completely, and this compounded with him mentally replaying the recent events caused him to collapse in remorse, and as he ignited his lightsaber for a final time and stuck it through his chest, he let out a final cry that released the last morsel of sane present within him, leaving him a corpse of his own insanity.

[zirkkun]

Yo you have every right to be upset about things! You're still a person with your own feelings and deserve to be treated kindly. No one should come at you for making things you enjoy or for misunderstandings. I hope things get better for you even if I wasn't here for when all the drama happened (or maybe I was and just wasn't aware of it? I tend to avoid drama as much as possible tbh)

I didn't really post about it much. I think I answered about 4 asks about it (three of them in the same post because i was sure it was the same anon due to the similar string of seemingly continued messages) and the rest I just deleted as soon as they came in, but I got... A lot. A lot of mean things said too. Kinda hurts when you wanted to make something because you knew this work was highly criticized and wanted to let people give it a second chance only to be shot down by the people you were hoping to defend lol

In short, and a lot of it I missed because I was blocked by a lot of people so my friend sent me screencaps; someone took I believe only the old ask box post I had for ULR, which at the time was called "Underlust Rewrite," and was disgusted at the fact that everything was revamped and "made for kids" (because it's not 18+ explicit content, but as I've said before, it's just cause I'm too scared to be horny on main, and I've literally made a whole different biological system for ULR so I can write the necessary story ""sex scenes"" without it being human-like sex or otherwise uncomfortable or too explicit for me to draw, but I still consider it a mature story overall), so they blocked me instantly here and on twitter and then made a callout post on twitter itself. People were telling me originally to stop calling the AU Underlust, and I didn't really get it at first, because like, what's the difference between my spinoff and, say, Underlust Gold, Swapfell Indigo, TS!Underswap, you know, names that have add-ons from the original title to differentiate it but still connect it to the source. So that's what I said, as well as if I removed the Underlust name, it would be considered stealing to me, because I'd be disconnecting it from the source. But apparently, instead, what had been the concern was that it was just being called "Underlust" and the "Rewrite" aspect was implying I was replacing the original story, which like, had never been my intention and I've made a bunch of things with both the ULR and UL cast together and love the idea of Lust and Ace meeting up and just being a disaster duo of not working together at all. I just adore Underlust like it's in my pinned FAQ, Lust's been in my banner for months now, and he's practically my staple pfp character on every account but here atm.

It took like 3 days for it to actually click what was going on, because once I finally got the chance to have a conversation with someone where they weren't telling me I was the scum of the Earth -- which, honestly, bless the three people I talked to, they were so sweet (which actually included someone from the Japanese side of the fandom whose art I loved too... yeah it got pretty far. Once I sent them a message though it was cleared up quickly and they did post a clarification post about ULR and me, so that was nice to see.) -- I finally got the chance to realize that this was a misunderstanding from the beginning, from both sides, where people coming at me were saying I was doing all of the stuff above and probably more but those stuck the most, while I was confused as to where this information and accusations were coming from and what they were referring to in the first place. They probably never explained it in the anon asks because, well, they probably assumed I knew what I was doing, but when they came at me about something I didn't do with vague context of something I did do, I was very confused, and got really defensive really quickly, and really honestly snapped pretty hard. After my first initial explanation post and people were still trying to tell me to stop ULR/don't call it Underlust/whatever else there was, I just got tired and told people to block me if they didn't like it. But that didn't really stop anyone and honestly made it worse because that's when I started getting really nasty messages. I like... Specifically remember one where someone called me a lowlife and a thief, and that one stuck the most, but I tended to not read through them before deleting them for my own sanity. I actually did this to one of the people who'd later talked to me calmly about it at first too, because I had just woken up, and really didn't want to read an essay lecture on everything everyone's been telling me at the crack of 7am when I was borderline ready to delete my account and start over lol

Some people I do remember were accusing me of trying to censor nsfw content or erase it as well because ULR isn't 18+, and I'm out here on my horny ass like "wh. What are they talking about, where did you get that idea, have you SEEN my ao3 recommended list," /j but in all seriousness I really didn't understand that accusation at all because I've never been against nsfw content in the slightest and lowkey? This is very dumb -- but like, you know how they say when you get hate mail, you know you've made it? Well, for me, my thought has always been, "When there's 18+ fancontent of my OC's, I'll have finally made it." This is... Not a joke, some of my friends think its very weird LMAO oh well. I've been on the internet for far too long at this point -- like, definitely since I was far too young, probably, and being with a family of the next youngest being 12 years older than me, I really dove into stuff pretty quickly I definitely shouldn't have, but hey that's life -- I'm really unfazed by mostly anything now. Hell, me making ULR was honestly half motivated by me wanting to make others more comfortable with this kind of media, discussing sexuality and otherwise sexual-considered topics, without really being embarrassed or bothered by it. Because, people talk about death and killing and whatever other gorey stuff just fine, but the moment sex comes up, people just gasp in awe, y'know? I kind of grew up that way myself but like... ironically, in being more comfortable with my asexuality, I realized that it's honestly not that big of a deal. Sure, we don't need to hear the details of everything. We don't need to hear the details of a murder either. But I will never understand how murder is always the lowest on the "morally wrong list of things to not to" to so many people and that it's fine to mention, but even consider bringing up anything else and it's like, a sin and you're a bad person. Even racism is like, higher up on there for a lot of people, which it's like... this is an issue that needs to be discussed, or it can never be solved. You can't just kick that away and hope it goes away on its own, that's never how it works.

Ah, well, now I've gone off tangent lol. Sorry to make you read a blob of text lmao but having things in a cohesive format of what I've been thinking does feel a bit better. Thank you for the support regardless, and I do want to keep making what I really enjoy, because frankly, I really want to make things that make people take a step back and think for a moment, y'know? Things that invoke like a realization in yourself about something you didn't even know. That's how fiction's always been for me, so I want to give back by making it that way too. ... maybe my horny content is exempt from this however. That's just. Self indulgence LMAO.

Probably helps that I'm actually talking this all out for once, too, since before any of this I tried to keep as much of the situation contained to myself as possible in hopes I could clean it up before it got too bad. That was, in hindsight, probably a terrible idea lol. But I didn't want to be a source of stress for anyone following me or become the new creator-to-defend that like, 50% of people hate and 50% of people love and that you're either on one side or the other and there's no where in between. (I feel like Arin Hanson comes to mind for me every time I think of someone like this.) I know I can't please everyone and I knew internet hate would come eventually, but like, didn't expect it to be over a name or tag choice. I thought that would be a simple enough DM or clearable thing but apparently not, especially since I saw someone a few weeks ago delete their blog over a similar thing (though, the opposite, in a way: posting nsfw in a sfw tag by mistake). It wasn't in the UT fandom so y'all probably weren't following them (tbf I wasn't either, I just witnessed it happen from start to finish), but it was still disheartening.

Anyway, thank you, and sorry to make ya read all of that (if you actually did vahdbs don't blame you if you don't it's a lot of thought dump lmao)💕💕

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 104: The Woes of Mrs. Weasley

There was a ghastly smell filling her nose, but Lily quickly found she had trouble moving in any direction, let alone away from it. There was movement all around her, her companions all coughing away a fair bit of dust as well as that foul odor mingling with it, but then her skin began to crawl and real panic lit in her core as she saw an eighth person. There were only eight of them, there shouldn't be an extra person moving when she was stuck!

It was vaguely human-shaped, and the smell was reeking right from it as it passed along between them all. Not attacking, at least nobody was screaming, but not helping either. Just gliding along with an odd rattling noise and befouling their senses.

Lily finally managed to wrench a hand free, and found it came out of a pants leg. A quick lumos spell had her eyes dazzling in the tiny space, and the illumination wasn't much better than it smelled.

She was in a large trunk filled to the brim with clothes no decent person would ever consider wearing with as much lace it contained. Potter was a few feet to her side, his glasses askew and at a very awkward angle as he found himself tangled up in old bed sheets. Alice and Frank were helping each other to their feet while picking glass out of their hands, they seemed to have landed in an ancient old display of cups and plates and broken the majority of them. Lupin and Sirius Black were in the farthest back corner where old pipes were visible and trying their best to get free without breaking one loose, while Pettigrew and Regulus Black had knocked over an old dresser, scattering the entire room in photographs, the bright fluorescent Weasley hair in all ages the brightest thing here. It was the ghoul that still held all attention though.

The skin seemed to be dripping right off of it, leaving foul puddles of the stuff over everything, including them now. There was one half of a dead rat clenched in one hand, and a chunk of the poor rodent in the gap in its teeth. The eyes were unintelligent though, and Lily easily recalled her lessons on ghouls at once. Harmless, household pests.

"Someone kill me now," the attic, it must be where they were, was too small for Lupin's voice not to carry. "I can't live with this stench while waiting for the next catastrophe in that book." He'd finally gotten his ankle twisted painfully enough he could extract his torso out of the pipes and crawl free.

"Cheer up Moony," Sirius Black returned cheerfully, as he had to very awkwardly and carefully dance on his toes to avoid the pipe between his legs while following him out. "Sure the place smells, but we're not back at Grimmauld! That's more of an improvement than we've yet had with this bloody book of Harry's."

"I'll take your bedroom over this place," his voice came out a bit muffled now as he spoke while plugging up his nose, eyes racking longingly over every surface for a chance at fresh air.

"Blasphemy," his friend scolded, while now scouring every inch of the place himself to find said book it seemed.

Everyone was now doing so in earnest, it wasn't just the werewolf who wanted away from this puke-inducing area. It seemed to have hidden itself away well this time though, and in exasperation Lily took another rank breath first to say the accio spell.

At first Lily just saw movement, the book being darker than the shadows shooting right up from behind the chest she'd been in nearly made her scream in fright before it landed in her hand. She frowned down at the ruddy thing, it just had to be black didn't it? You could barely see the violet five flickering by her wand light.

"Like a hand Evans?" Potter was at her shoulder and drawing his wand even as he spoke.

She frowned at him, but chose not to answer, he'd do as he would with or without her approval, as she cracked it open and flipped through the blank pages until she came across where the new chapter began. "The Woes of Mrs. Weasley."

"The woman has seven kids, I'd imagine her woes would fill a dozen books," Alice frowned in sympathy.

"Eight if you count Harry," Sirius Black added in, causing both her and Frank to startle a bit. It wasn't a large attic and there would be no whispered conversations here.

The ghoul suddenly seemed like the good news.

Harry wasn't the only one shocked at Dumbledore's strange behaviour, and that was really something given his start-of-term speeches. Lily couldn't imagine why he hadn't so much as looked at Harry during the trial, let alone completely dismissed his existence immediately after it.

"Well, he did ignore Arthur too, does that make it better?" Potter was apparently going to be reading over her shoulder while hefting his wand for light, and she scowled down at the pages. She'd rather go blind trying to read in the dark, couldn't Alice come over and offer to take his place?

'Well, better him than a Malfoy,' she supposed. It wasn't a generous trade, but as he loomed over her at least she wasn't afraid of him. Lucius hanging around in the Ministry however, after what he'd done to Harry, and off to have a private chat with the Minister over obvious bribery and gold! It was despicable how casually the Minister was cavorting!

Harry at least got a party out of the ordeal, the amount of those could probably be counted on one hand as festivities at Grimmauld Place were thrown for Harry's freedom from that looming problem.

"The best party that house has ever hosted!" Sirius Black cheered, even pumping his fist before it banged against the ceiling and he shook his fingers out.

Regulus couldn't help but agree with his brother's sentiment, mother's parties were always dreadfully dull. Hearing of the Weasley twins' and Ginny's dance really did sound amusing and he was half surprised the Marauder idiots weren't trying to recreate it here.

Such rabble wasn't to last though, as none of the Marauders seemed in the spirit for it. Even if they had reached a general plateau of not avoiding each other, they didn't yet seem up to going to the feat of interacting much either. Regulus wasn't going to complain about that, as Peter tugged on his sleeve and showed him a hilarious picture of who must be a young Charlie Weasley in a dragon onesie.

Sirius and Remus actually shuffled even further away from each other uncomfortably, as it was Hermione who reacted to seeing Harry's scar start to pain him, the whole of the Weasleys who were looking after Harry. Why was it was always Harry's friends, another family entirely instead of the one Harry should have, who had been mentioned in that house, and still didn't seem to be going out of their way to even watch him like Prongs would want? It was no wonder even this disgusting-smelling attic felt more comfortable to be in than Grimmauld Place, it's not like Harry had anyone there looking out for him apparently.

James finally looked away from the light making Evans's hair a waterfall of red and instead looked once more to Sirius in concern as he shut himself away in that house, with only his hippogriff for company. No Moony skulking around the place, apparently, to talk to him? Certainly no him or Wormtail to try cheering him up in there.

Sirius Black wasn't the most approachable bloke, Lily could certainly agree with that and didn't blame Harry one bit for sharing his feelings with his friends rather than his godfather, but she found herself peeking at Potter out of the corner of her eye and suddenly wishing that would change as he kept shuffling about, making the light move with him, eyeing his mate with clear worry.

Sirius was the only connection to this idiot Harry would ever have, and she certainly would have at least tried to help her boy with that if she had any feelings for either idiot herself. What the hell was she supposed to do though, make friends with Potter and Black for Harry's sake? That would be going with the operation of this future existing, something she was still not convinced would come to pass, not if she had anything to say about it.

So Potter wasn't as big a tosser as she always thought, he was at least a human idiotic teenager rather than the biggest waste of space to exist. That didn't mean she'd marry the bugger and have this kid and these would be her problems.

Lily was quite glad she was the one reading as Hermione attacked Sirius personally for his sanity once more, she kept calm and read in an even, refrained voice, not giving a hint away one way or the other how she felt about it. Certainly none of the boys present could have managed the same, as they'd all made their opinion on that quite clear. Yes, she'd rather wondered about it all herself only two books ago back when he'd supposedly been a mass murderer, but well, just because he hadn't done that crime didn't mean he was all there in the head either. Growing up in that house, it would be a miracle if he was all there, and now he was forced into it twenty-four seven while having to listen to the Order bring in reports? She may have gone a touch mad herself.

Alice smiled privately, still far enough away from Potter's light and standing half behind Frank no one saw or even seemed to notice the development. The boys were all being quite vocal about how sane Sirius Black was to be keeping himself right where he was by choice, obviously a madman wouldn't be able to rationalize that, even Frank and Regulus Black couldn't argue that. Lily wasn't doing as good a job as she thought she was keeping her indifference out of her tone.

The mood was so sour as she plowed through she nearly read right over the development of Ron and Hermione being made Prefects. Then she stopped and backpedaled to smile at just how, human, Harry's reaction to it all was.

Lily would guiltily admit before now she'd had trouble separating the two Potters but that was forever ruined by his chastising himself for his slightly petty thoughts, and even genuinely congratulating Ron whom didn't think he deserved it himself.

James Potter only reinforced the difference as he puffed up his chest behind her, knocking into her shoulder as he shouted loud enough for all of the hills beyond to hear. "Course Harry didn't get that badge, no son of mine would be caught dead with such a thing!"

"Just his friends, it fits rather well," Lupin drawled with an eye roll. He had not been wearing his own when all of this started, and honestly Lily forgot he was one half the time, he never made a fuss about it, certainly not regarding his friends.

James Potter flashed him a grin and Lily quickly brought the book up to her nose to hide her smile at the exchange, damn her. When had watching the idiot go from infuriating to laughable?

At least practically everyone important to the story all in that kitchen came as good distraction for everyone as yet another party was being thrown there. Why couldn't they have appeared during that? With food and a pleasant banner rather than the ghoul finishing off the rat, the tail now stuck between its teeth.

Alice felt a flash of white-hot anger as Mad-Eye Moody appeared and gave Harry the opposite of a treat, no matter what that old auror said. Showing him a picture of her and Frank, his own parents, all the dead from his past all at once. Every single person in that photo was either dead, or probably wishing they were for the torments they went through. It was quite the mood killer.

James Potter had been hovering over her shoulder for so long now, she'd almost been able to completely ignore he was there, until he reached over and yanked the book out of her hands in shock. "What blasphemy is this! Moony, you stop telling lies to my kid!"

"What? What do I say?" Lupin asked curiously, but Lily reached over and snagged the book back with a frown at him.

"Mind your manners Potter, or you'll find yourself sitting on that ghoul's lap until we're free of here." She promised. His mouth was still hanging open in shock as she read the news that Lupin had been a prefect, but James Potter had been made Head Boy, and then stopped herself, wondering who had gone mad in that school to allow such a thing.*

"That was mentioned ages ago you dimwits," Regulus Black scoffed at all the shocked faces. "Hagrid mentioned it the very first time he met Harry, you're the Head Girl Evans."

"How do you remember that?" Sirius dragged his eyes away from James to frown at his odd little brother. Admittedly, they'd been rather distracted at the time just adjusting to all this insanity and not everything had stuck.

"I pay attention," he shot back with an eye roll, causing Peter to snicker quietly. He'd been about to say the same thing as Regulus.

"Well, well what I said still stands," Potter finally brushed off his surprise and smiled invitingly at his crush once more. "Head Boy is far more of a responsible job than a ruddy old Prefect. What do you say Evans, shall we practice those long, alone hours patrolling the school when we get back? Just so we've got plenty of practice."

Lily gave him a withering look and took several steps away, out of arm's reach once more as she pleasantly went back to ignoring him.

James sighed but respected that, he'd been silently dancing in his head she'd allowed him so close this whole time and decided not to press his luck as he raised his wand even higher aloft so she could still see.

The party began dwindling down though, and everyone snapped back to attention with worry when Harry followed Molly out as if up to bed early. Her 'woes' hadn't exactly been made prominent through this exposition chapter, so some heartfelt talk was likely about to crop up instead.

What instead transpired was far more ghastly than even the ghoul could manage. Her worst fears of watching her family die in front of her, one right after the other, even Harry.

Nobody had any smart-aleck remarks for that, each of them had already lost something to this war in their own time, and these books had long proved they'd have even more to lose. Professor Lupin and the godfather swooped in to the rescue by banishing the boggart, but the damage was long done to them.

Lily read Harry's final thoughts with a kinship to everyone in this room. Voldemort had to be stopped before any more families were destroyed.

HPHPHPHPHP

I'm really proud of how this chapter works out metaphorically as well as literally. The chapter's mostly about the Weasley's, hence the location of where they store all their things, but also Harry feels really separated from everyone even in the midst of them, he might as well be up in the attic during the party.

*This actually isn't mentioned in the chapter, but I didn't react to it back when it was, so lets pretend Remus slipped that in yeah?

[emilx311]

*pops out of hiding and waves shyly* Hi, yes, I am alive. Yes this is an actual chapter. Yes I am sorry, if you want some idea of what the past couple years have been like for me check out my pinned post “life update”, though long story short I got a job as a night auditor at a hotel and am now half running the hotel (I am not supposed to be, I did not sign up for this, all I did was be present and competent). I apologize in advance, I actually really debated changing the contents of this chapter since I thought the long wait was enough angst for you lot, but my brain refused to provide any other ideas for advancing the plot but this one (which was the plan for this chapter back when I first began it in 2019). *phases back in to hiding*

Chapter can be read below the cut or on AO3

Tobirama spends hours there on his knees, paying for his kin and listening for anything outside that might suggest the battle’s end. It seems the longest few hours he was ever lived, which is saying something coming from him who has spent much of his life left behind and waiting. He wants to scratch off his own skin, tear himself apart until he is able to get the damned cuff off and run to his family. Logically he knows that he wouldn’t be able to help them even if he was still back at the Senju compound, but logic has no place in the fear and dread he feels. Here he is, caged and useless while those he loves fight for him. He has not felt so helpless since he was a child forced to watch as his brothers went off one by one to fight a war he was banned from. He can still see their backs as they exited the compound, one after another younger and weaker than him and yet deemed less of a liability. It is a visceral reminder of why he hates the Uchiha so much, of what he is fighting for, of what is at stake.

It is this reminder that keeps him still, keeps him from doing anything reckless. Much as he longs to scream, to run, to cause damage and death, he knows that doing so would only hurt his cause and thus the ones he loves more. He would only cause himself to be labelled as dangerous, rebellious, a risk-or worst of all they might even deduce his clan status, the one secret he needs to keep above all others. He’d end up even more locked away than he already was, under tighter guard and more powerful seals, denied even the slight freedoms he has now-the freedoms he needs if he is ever to escape. No, he will not allow his emotions to control him the way he longs to; instead, he tempers his feelings and uses them to fuel his resolve. He will do whatever he has to in order to make it back to his family.

When he hears the ringing of bells and the clamour of rushing feet an underminable time later he finally forces himself to stand. He meticulously washes his face to clear away all evidence of his few furious tears and then settles himself on the futon. He closes his eyes and focusses on regulating his breathing, projecting an illusion of clam and tranquility. If he has his way the Uchiha will assume he’d been meditating throughout the lockdown.

While careful to maintain his calm demeanor on the outside, he still burns on the inside. Never has he felt so cut-off from the world as he does now. Before he has, at least, always had the reassurance of his sensing, of being able to reach out and feel his brothers and their conditions even if he couldn’t be there with them. Now the cuff on his wrist had cut him off from even that bit of comfort, leaving him utterly bereft. He’d never felt as weak and pathetic as he did at present-not even when, as a child, he’d been told he would never, could never, be allowed to join the rest of his kin on the battlefield, not because of his skill but because of the colour of his eyes. Hating the helpless feeling, Tobirama resolves to double his efforts to find a way around the cuff just as a great cheer rose from outside, followed by a sudden sharp, profound silence.

Tobirama feels the burning inside his chest turn to ice. Terror the likes of which he’d only felt that fateful day facing Madara and Izuna filled him. Such a reaction from the Uchiha can only mean that something must have happened-something dramatic and significant. The suspense, the not knowing burrows into him like a thousand senbon needles stabbing into his skin. Whatever has happened will affect him, even if it was good for his clan, it may very well end up being bad for him personally. Still, as much as he hates it there is nothing he can do about it at present, not until he is given more information and very possibly not even then-not without damning himself.

Luckily for Tobirama’s sanity, Indra stumbles into his room less than an hour later. The brunette seems oddly disheveled, especially given he had not even been part of the day’s battle. His hair was in disarray, as though he’d been tugging on it, his eyes clothing slightly dusty and his eyes wide and unfocused, as though not actually seeing any of what was in front of him. In fact, Tobirama realized quickly, the Uchiha did not really seem to be taking anything in at all. Mentally he was not present with Tobirama, his demeanor that of someone in a profound state of shock and behaving as though he were in a trance.

“Indra?” Tobirama asked softly, his concern growing as the other does not respond, and in fact shows no sign of even having heard him.

“Indra??” He tries again, slightly louder, while grabbing the Uchiha’s hand. This, thankfully, seems to do the trick and jolt the other back to the present.

“Bright-eyes?” Indra chokes out before suddenly dropping to his knees in front of Tobirama, pulling the albino to himself with a soft cry and burying his face in to thick white hair.

The Uchiha was shaking, Tobirama noticed distantly as his mind scrambled to guess what could have happened that would have affected Indra so deeply. From what Tobirama had seen of him, Indra did care deeply for his clan as a whole, and as such would do his best for any he considered to be a member of that clan, but he did not display very much personal or individual attachment to most members. Given that, for Indra to be reacting like this meant that whatever had happened it had to involve someone close to him, likely either his father Tajima or his brothers. But, if something had happened to a member of the head family, why had there initially been cheering? It made no sense to him.

Knowing he would get no answers until Indra got calmed down, Tobirama loosened his stiff posture and wrapped his arms around the Uchiha. He then brought one of his hands up and began stroking the other’s long brown hair. The pair stayed like this for several long minutes as Tobirama’s anxiety grew and Indra calmed. When the Uchiha finally starts to pull away, Tobirama carefully schools his face until the only emotion showing is slight concern, which Tobirama hopes Indra will assume is due to the state the Uchiha was in. (Tobirama hates that this is not entirely false, that he is even the slightest bit effected by seeing the other in pain. It is not much, but even a little is too much given his position.)

“I’m sorry about that bright-eyes, I’m no usually so…emotional” Indra apologized, looking rather sheepish.

“It’s alright” Tobirama assures him, and after a brief hesitation dares to ask, “what happened?” The question causes a flash of pain to flicker over Indra’s face and Tobirama tells himself he feels no remorse for causing it. “If I am allowed to know” the albino hurries to add, making sure to keep up the polite, well-mannered façade he had settled in to. He has too much at stake to break character now, especially not for news he can likely learn just by listening around the compound in the next few days.

“No, no-news will reach you soon enough anyway. Besides, the blessed are equal members of the clan, and as such are privy to the same information as any other Uchiha would be.” Indra assures him and Tobirama has to bite his tongue once again to keep from expressing his disbelief. Instead, he simply cocks his head at Indra in an invitation for him to elaborate, which the Uchiha thankfully does.

“Today’s battle with the Senju was far worse than usual” Indra begins, “according to those who were there the Senju, to a man, seemed enraged. Far beyond the usual level of distaste and hatred brought out by seeing an old foe for yet another battle. No one is quite certain why, but in any case, they fought like men possessed, especially the clan head and his sons. Father was unprepared for the onslaught; he was cut down by Senju Butsuma.” Tobirama notices that Indra says his father’s name with the same harsh tones his family use when they speak the names of the Uchiha. It is hardly a surprise, though it is a painful reminder that Indra is only kind to him because he does not know Tobirama’s true identity. Still, Tobirama allows his shock to show on his face, it is real enough, but lets absolutely nothing else slip through. Tajima’s death is a huge advantage for the Senju, but he does not know what it will mean for him, trapped as he was here, with the Uchiha.

Tobirama opens his mouth to convey his, utterly false, condolences when Indra continues, “Butsuma’s sword went straight through his heart, but father has never been the type to simply slay down and allow his death. With his last breath father managed to stab Butsuma in turn, well into the stomach.” Tobirama is frozen, too shocked to react. He knows what Indra has not said, what the Uchiha does not need to say-a wound of the type his father took is guarantied to be fatal. His father is dead, oh his heart may yet beat but he will not last longer than a day or two, and, much as Tobirama wants to lash out at the Uchiha in front of him (the son of his father’s murderer) while his guard is so far down, he cannot. If he ever wants to get home to the rest of his family, to his brothers and Touka, he cannot show any reaction to this news. It burns, the knowledge he cannot mourn the father who loved him and likely went to his death thinking Tobirama dead and blaming himself for it, for letting his son leave the safety of their clan compound. It is yet another knife in his heart, another injury at the Uchiha’s hands, and another thing to fuel his determination to escape.

“So, what will happen now?” Tobirama asks, as he realizes the silence has begun to stretch on for too long to be normal, his tone utterly even. It is an important question, the death of a clan head can lead to a lot of changes both outside, and especially, inside a clan. In a perfect world the next Uchiha head would be against, and perhaps even abolish, their tradition of keeping the blessed trapped and caged within their compound. But, Tobirama holds no hope of that, not knowing as he did that the tradition went back generations, perhaps even since the founding of the clan, and as such is deeply, deeply ingrained into the Uchiha culture. Almost as ingrained as their war with his clan, and there has certainly been no signs of that coming to an end anytime soon. Besides that, from what he knows Madara is the heir, and Madara was one of the ones to capture him and bring him back here. Additionally, Madara and Indra were raised together, and Indra has certainly shown nothing but support for the tradition.

“Madara will take father’s place as the head of our clan. He has been being prepared for this for years, since we all knew this day would come sometime. It shouldn’t be too difficult a transition, especially since the Senju will not be in a position to try and take advantage of it. Very little should change in the daily running of the clan, or of the compound, including your day-to-day life” Indra tells him, confirming most of Tobirama’s thoughts and assumptions about the situation.

“Well,” Indra corrects, “that is not entirely true. With all the responsibilities and duties Madara will now have to take on he will need more of my time and help than he has before, especially since I am now the de facto heir until he is able to have children. Because of this I won’t be able to spend as much time with you.” Tobirama allows his grimace to show on his face. Without Indra to accompany him he’d either be restricted to his rooms, or at least the house, or he would be assigned a new guard to follow him around, neither of which sounded particularly pleasant to him.

Being stuck in the house would mean putting all his current plans and efforts on hold. He would be unable to examine the compound, try to determine guard schedules, observe the shinobi and learn their weaknesses, or continue with his research into the cuff and its seals. Being assigned a different guard would mean he could continue with these things, but it posed several annoying issues of its own. While whoever they stuck him with was likely to be less powerful than Indra was, they would also be a complete unknown. With Indra he at least knew the other’s fighting style to an extent, knew how the other thought and how to act and react according to and around him in order to minimize suspicion. Having to redetermine all this for a new individual and alter his actions based off that would be, as the Nara said, a drag, and he was not looking forward to having to do so.

“Going to miss me bright-eyes?” Indra asks, grinning at the albino’s expression.

“You’re tolerable to have around I suppose” Tobirama allows, to the Uchiha’s happiness.

“Quite the compliment, coming from you” Indra teases, enjoying the way it makes the other’s nose wrinkle.

“I’ve just gotten used to you, that’s all” Tobirama says, making the Uchiha laugh.

“I am told I grow on people” he comments, causing Tobirama to roll his eyes.

“Not like I had a choice, you being around all the time-not that that will be an issue for much longer” the albino snarks, unsurprised to see Indra’s eyes flash with irritation. “It shouldn’t be too hard to get used to whoever is sent to replace you” he adds, unable to keep himself from stoking the Uchiha’s fire and rewarded with a jealous growl from the other.

“Perhaps, but I doubt you will have the chance to find out” the brunette snaps, and Tobirama worries he has pushed too far. He opens his mouth to apologize-anything to make sure he won’t be forced to spend the foreseeable future trapped and alone in these four walls, but Indra holds up a hand to stop him before he can.

“I’m sorry bright-eyes, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just stressed-this seemed to come out of nowhere, and I’m annoyed that so much of my time with you is likely to be taken away for the coming weeks, but I know it must be equally stressful for you. You have only been here for a few weeks after all, and have barely gotten used to me and now this. It is no surprise you would dislike the idea of having to go back to being constantly around what essentially amounts to a complete stranger would be upsetting to you, and that that upset would cause you to lash out slightly the way you did” Indra says soothingly and honestly.

Tobirama is once again surprised by how insightful, intelligent, and even empathetic the other could be. He mourns, as he has several times before, that the other had been born an Uchiha and insisted on keeping Tobirama trapped here. He mused (again) that were the situation not what it was he could see them as having been friends, or perhaps even more. But the situation was what it was and Tobirama had too much respect for himself to ever form any relationship, romantic or otherwise, with someone who would limit him as the Uchiha, and Indra, did and would.

Indra continued, “you don’t have to be concerned, what I meant when I said you would not need to find out if you could get used to another was not that you would be locked away here whenever I was not around, but that Madara and I have talked it over and decided you no longer need a constant guard. You have behaved very well since you arrived here, have caused no problems and are integrating well with others in the compound, thus, we feel that the restrictions on you may be lightened somewhat.” Tobirama was shocked and unable to hide it. He had expected it to take months and months if not years to gain any level of trust, and with-it freedoms, but here it was being given to him already.

Indra grinned at his reaction, but was quick to elaborate before Tobirama got too excited, “there will still be limitations. You won’t be permitted to go to training fields while you are alone, though Hikaku is considered sufficient should Hasami invite you to spar. You are not allowed weapons, and will not be given access to your chakra. The guards around the compound will still be keeping a close eye on you, and I will be by to check-in and accompany you around periodically. But if you continue to adapt to life here as you have been we will be able to grant you more freedoms in time.”

Tobirama nods, unsurprised to hear about the limitations, after all even this little spec of freedom was more than he’d expected. Being able to browse the library and read without someone watching over his shoulder was a boon beyond word. It meant he would actually be able to concentrate on finding information about the cuff and potential weaknesses of the compound, or the Uchiha themselves without trying to disguise his interest in certain books or waste time reading those he knew would gain him nothing as a diversion.

“I understand, I’ll stay within the village proper whenever I’m alone” Tobirama says obediently. It was a promise he actually intended to obey in truth for a change, at least for the moment. Anything grained from trying to sneak around was very unlikely to be more valuable to him than this newfound freedom.

Satisfied with his promise, Indra left him to go seek out his brothers while Tobirama took the time to try and sort through everything that had happened.  Hearing about his father’s death this way was still a devastation, but he knew that his father would be pleased his actions had given his son a new edge in his battle. He would use this edge, his newfound freedoms, wisely. He would take full advantage of them in order to speed up his escape. He would use the privileges his father had unknowingly bought him with his life to survive and make it back to his remaining family-as Butsuma would want him to. His brothers needed him, and as always, their needs were his greatest motivators. He had already lost one family member while he was trapped here, he would not allow it to happen again.

[your-tubbo]

they don’t love you like i do

wake up babe new au just dropped

warnings: emotional manipulation, abuse, the whole prison, death, there’s just. a bunch of shit.

word count: 2.7k

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30039279

fic under cut

a security measure, sam told him. a security measure. it’d be over in a week. just a week.

just a week.

just a week.

trapped with dream. you know, dream. the guy who helped wilbur blow up l’manberg and led him to exile and hurt him and everyone he loves over and over and over.

all behind the smiling mask.

and now, he’s trapped, powerless, utterly powerless, with the person who he never wanted to see again.

it was supposed to be the last time. it was supposed to be CLOSURE.

he was supposed to be fine.

he looks over at dream, just from the corner of his eye.

he doesn’t see a manipulator? but he assumes that’s just because he’s seeing dream in rose-tinted glasses or whatever sam and puffy said.

he can’t.

he looks over at dream, properly this time. he looks so pitiful. he isn’t even wearing his mask. he isn’t facing tommy. his hair’s grown out a little, and it’s a little dirty. the little of his face tommy can see is horribly scarred. it’s almost a little sickening to look at.

dream doesn’t look at him.

dream doesn’t look at him.

and he looks at dream.

he sits there. he sits there in the corner of the room?? cell? and he sits.

the room is too silent.

the room is far too silent.

tommy tries to hum just a little bit but the noise echoes around him. the noise echoes HORRIBLY. horribly. the noise echoes in a horrible horrible song and it feels far too loud, far, far too loud.

he sits quietly, and even in the silence, his breath feels far too loud.

he sits.

and the silence sits with him. the silence is mocking him, it’s surrounding him, it’s laughing at him and his suffering and it’s laughing.

it laughs in the silence and it’s laughter is somehow quieter than the surroundings.

he tries to focus on the lava bubbling. it’s crackling fills the silence but it doesn’t feel right. it’s like a hole. a hole in his soul or whatever bullshit people would use to explain his emotions.

he sits and he listens to lava and he feels empty. empty unlike anything he’s felt before. he isn’t full of anger for dream, for being trapped. he isn’t scared. he isn’t anything.

he isn’t anything at all. he’s empty. empty like the night sky, black and shining full of mocking, mocking stars.

mocking, mocking stars. shining in the awful void.

he is empty. and he sits. and the silence laughs. and the lava crackles. and dream faces away. he doesn’t even acknowledge tommy.

he sits there in his silly, silly orange jumpsuit and he looks straight out of a crime movie or some shit. he doesn’t look at tommy. he’s looking at the water? his back to the chest. and he’s looking at the water.

tommy’s never seen dream’s face behind that mask. he looks in dream’s eyes and immediately looks away. they’re piercing green, green so bright it hurts a little. his nose is crooked, and it looks broken, and tommy wonders what he did to get that. his cheek is scarred up, and the wounds look old. his mouth is thinly-set and he looks almost remorseful. words echo in his mind, echoing, telling him dream cannot be trusted, dream is a horrible person, dream is a murderer, dream is the one he’s been fighting all along.

the message doesn’t fully sink in. not when dream finally meets his eye, and tommy sees the other eye, a massive slash through his eye, and the iris white and glossed over, like he can’t see out of it. like he’s blinded.

dream looks over at him and his eyes are so pitiful, and so horribly sorry. they look almost teary.

they look like an apology.

and tommy looks at him, and he can’t tell what his eyes say. but dream knows. dream knows.

dream knows.

dream always knows.

and tommy doesn’t.

tommy is blind, and dream is all-seeing.

dream guides him into the dark, and he only guides him into further depths. but the blind cannot tell the dark from the darker.

and so he follows.

dream doesn’t speak. but at least he’s looking at him now. at least he’s looking.

at least he’s here.

at least he’s not alone.

at least he’s not alone.

he’s not alone.

dream’s here, at least.

yeah. dream’s here.

right?

he’ll be fine. he’ll be fine. it’s just a week.

and dream isn’t that bad. he’s powerless. he doesn’t have armour, or weapons, or potions, or the discs or anything he can use against tommy.

he’s the one in power. yeah. he’s in power.

he’s in power.

tommy smiles to himself. he’s in charge here. he’s gonna be just fine.

dream doesn’t speak, and tommy goes to sleep and he knows he’s in charge. he’s gonna be just fine. absolutely fine.

he thinks.

he hopes.

as he sleeps, he dreams of explosions. one after the other. the first l’manberg war, then wilbur and then he hears his things, his armour, his weapons, everything he knows and owns, all blown up in front of him. and then he hears the explosions from earlier, the ones trapping him in here.

except he isn’t trapped, is he?

he’s fine! he’s absolutely fine! he’s the one in power here!

his dreams twist into a smile and they reassure him. he’s gonna be absolutely fine! this is actually amazing for him!

his dreams smile some more, and then they are gone. and he is awake.

dream stands over him, and tommy looks in his eyes. it’s funny to be able to actually see them. dream smiles at him, just as his dreams smiled at him.

isn’t that funny?

dream passes him a potato, and tommy gladly eats it. it only fills his stomach a little, but it’s something.

dream still doesn’t speak, but tommy does.

he speaks very fast and about a lot of things and dream listens. dream listens to him! he’s glad to be listened to.

if he keeps talking, and dream keeps listening, maybe he can forget that he’s in this prison. maybe it’ll feel like old times! before l’manberg, before things got complicated, before people got complicated. it was normal before. maybe it can be normal again.

he can be normal!

and dream can be normal and not whatever he was doing.

mhm. he’s doing great.

dream speaks, and now tommy listens. he talks about prison.

he speaks, and he says he is lonely. he is very lonely.

he only sees sam, and he only sees him occasionally. and tommy feels pity. dream sighs. and he says he’s sorry, he’s sorry for exile and he didn’t realise and he’s so, so sorry because he hurt tommy and he didn’t even realise what he was doing, he didn’t understand what tommy was feeling and now he understands. because he is lonely. he’s sorry.

he’s sorry. and tommy smiles. because he’s sorry! he’s really sorry! he’s alone and afraid and so was tommy and now he understands! he knows. he knows. he knows how it was. and tommy smiles and dream smiles and the silence smiles. and the prison smiles and everyone smiles because everything’s right.

nothing was wrong in the first place.

dream is nice to him! dream is his friend! dream hasn’t done anything super bad. he’s not that bad. he’s his friend.

dream’s his friend!

mhm!

dream’s sorry!! and he’s nice!!

he talks a little more, and tommy listens because dream listened to tommy and then tommy talks and dream listens to him because he’s his friend!

tommy talks about his hotel, and dream asks about it. dream asks if he can stay at hotel when it’s open and tommy says yes because dream’s his friend! of course his friends can stay at the hotel! dream can stay there, and-

does he have any other friends?

tubbo was? was he? didn’t tubbo exile him? wasn’t it tubbo?

tubbo hadn’t apologised.

but dream had.

yeah! dream had!

dream’s his only friend but he’s still a friend!

they talk, and the silence no longer mocks him and neither do the stars.

it’s fine.

tommy’s fine.

he and dream talk and they eat potatoes and dream shows tommy books, things he’s written.

tommy tries his hand at writing too. he doesn’t write much. he was never any good at writing.

he sleeps.

his dreams are now blank and dark, like a cave or a mine. or maybe even a ravine. a singular lantern lights, and shows the truth of the dark. it’s stone, ragged stone, studded with button after button after button and tommy stands there, facing him.

wilbur faces him, a thin, twisted smile on his face, trenchcoat blowing back in the wind. his eyes aren’t the brown they were in life, they were fire. pure fire and hell in an iris, dancing and flickering.

wilbur looks him in the eye, and he speaks in a voice so painfully close to his wilbur, to the man he’d followed to revolution, and yet so broken, so horribly broken, hanging on to sanity by a thread.

he speaks.

“it was never meant to be.”

he hits a button, and the ravine collapses in a mad flurry of explosions. but above the boom of tnt and the crash of rock, all tommy’s can hear is wilbur’s mad laughter, cackling, yelling, the final note in a damned symphony, damned from the second it started.

and tommy wakes up, screaming.

and dream is sat beside him, leaning over him, his face twisted in concern. he asks what happened softly. his voice is quiet, so very quiet, like snowfall. it’s comforting. tommy’s heavy breaths become even, if a little ragged. “nightmare.” he explains, and sighs.

he hates those dreams. they got so bad after pogtopia, he barely slept, just to avoid them. in exile, it was even worse. and now, it makes sense they’re back, creeping into his weak points, making him vulnerable. he’s lucky dream’s here to help calm him down.

[a-student-out-of-time]

Connections Review Part 3

Storm Maverick- Category 5

And we return! This will be the final part of the Connections Arc. I had initial plans for this to be 2 parts but sadly Maverick got too big and therefore he required his own part. This is by far the most divisive part of the Arc as everyone seems to be content with the time travel and harems, but as soon as Maverick ‘Motherfucker Hellspawn’ Storm got relevant it all went downhill for some. So, what do I think?

So, this is part is less ‘What is Maverick doing’ and more of what I think of Maverick. As you guys know, I am aware that Maverick is a lot older than people seem to recognize as he has his origins in Askthedespairkids. And in the context of that blog, Maverick is actually a pretty good character. You have to remember that the blog was saturated with OCs and a lot of them suffered from severe sueness or edgy syndrome. I will not make names and I will not say who made the worst OCs because that’s the easiest way to start an internet war, but the two big reasons I got bored of Askthedespairkids and quit reading is due to how poorly written a lot of these OCs were and they hogged a lot of the spotlight, and the canon characters ended up being regulated to the side-lines, which didn’t tickle my fancy at all. True, Maverick was very over the top and what he ultimately ended up doing to his former classmates in Class 75 is incredibly graphic and probably worse than some of the executions and murders canonically, but I would rather blame the general OPness of that blog. Now this is on the Mod’s terms Maverick can hopefully be hit with the nerf hammer a bit more so he isn’t as ridiculous as he was in Askthedespairkids. Furthermore, you can’t call Maverick a Villain Sue and not apply that to Junko Enoshima, because yeah, she is a Villain Sue, that’s why I don’t like her.

But things are different now. Maverick is standing on his own, against only a couple of other OCs and canon characters. Furthermore, the Mod’s writing skills have improved since the Askthedespairkids days so there’s a bit more pressure on Maverick. I think there are two issues I find with Maverick. The first is that I didn’t like him making a move during this arc. The arc was fine just focusing on time travel and the various harems and relationships of the characters, adding Storm just bloated the arc and made it much longer then needed, I feel like Maverick could have been revealed next arc and the next next arc would be the next arc we are currently getting into. This gives me serious Oncoming Storm vibes where an Arc is ridiculously long and a build up to a (hopefully) big payload. Now let me make this straight, this Arc is a million times better then Oncoming Storm, I don’t think any future Arc would be as bad as Oncoming Storm, as that was long and boring whereas the previous stuff was interesting, its just that adding Storm made the Arc very bloated and artificially extended the length of the arc making it tedious. Perhaps a forewarning to the Mod when they decide to include someone like Mikado and Junko into the story. The second issue with Maverick is…he’s basically a poor man’s Junko. At the moment I’m really struggling to find any meaningful differences between Maverick and Junko. With Juu being around we already have our big bad villain for the second Session and if I’m right, Session 3’s main villain is going to be Mikado and Session 4’s villain is Junko. I know Maverick is important to the backstories of Umeko and Kyoji, especially Kyoji, but aside from tying up those loose ends, what is the point of Maverick? Does he exist to give the Quantum Crew a practise run against Junko? And yes, his threat level is higher as he’s kidnapping an obscene amount of people and is able to block us Anons, but Maverick shouldn’t know we exist. I really, REALLLLY hope there’s a logical explanation for that because if Maverick is somehow able to sense the Anons and see how much of a threat we are, then the accusations of Maverick being a Villain Sue do hold water.

Overall, I will be more critical of Maverick now then I was back then because he enjoyed being next to poorly written characters but that safety net no longer exists and there’s too many glaring similarities between him and Junko. Now for his actions yeahhh…. I did warn you guys that Maverick is that special kind of evil but I don’t think it was until Nikei revealed about all his foster families committing suicide that it really hammered home. It’s basically vindication of what I said before. The stakes are a lot higher now because previously yes there was all the girls being kidnapped but it was just Tokyo and one demographic, but here lots of people all across Japan are vanishing and being brainwashed by Storm, so the pressure is on for the Quantum Crew to stop him. And some familiar names as well as Damian, Aiko’s pen pal and Hiroyuki, Kiroko’s younger brother have gone missing alongside Kanon. Kanon vanishing means I think Leon is going to be important next arc because we did promise Leon that Hajime & friends would help her and he’ll be willing to throw his lot in to save his cousin. And the pressure is even more on because Yuki’s been taken as well, having traded Mikado for Storm. This is going be big, especially for Sora as she’s been struggling with how much she cares for Yuki and this will be a real test to see where her allegiances lie. Especially as its unknown what happens if either Yoruko or Sora dies, because if Hajime dies, time rewinds and he uses a life but what if Yoruko and Sora get offed? They don’t have lifelines so what happens if Hajime resets, does Yoruko revert to her old self or does Sora get erased from existence as she isn’t supposed to be ‘born’ yet?

Kyoji also got some development as we see him bonding with Monaca and the newly reformed Kanade, and it’s a very ironic twist that the two characters who are often nicknamed as ‘Satan’ in the fandom are now more or less siblings. As good as a caretaker he is for them though, his recklessness and self-loathing issues are still there as it prevents him from seeing Miaya despite a meeting between them being sorely needed and thinking she won’t want to see him again even if that may not be the case, and wanting to deal with Storm ASAP despite legit concerns that it could be a trap. Thankfully Chisa and Chiaki were able to talk some sense into him and rein in some of his more destructive behaviour. Given how manipulative Storm is and we have not one but two characters who are willing to go off the handle, possibly three if Nikei jumps the gun again, its going to be a very intense arc coming up as not only do the Quantum Crew have to fight against Storm and his backers, but also keep some of the more hot-headed members of the team from being reckless. The new members of the Quantum Crew are pulling their weight though as Kazuichi offered insight into the tech that Storm could use, Chisa obviously helping to keep sanity in check and Ibuki had one of her lucid ideas and managed to suggest how Storm delivered all the VPN password codes to his victims in a way that isn’t unnoticeable which is just mailing them a vacation brochure. I’ll admit, this was really clever by the Mod as that went over my head when it was delivered, but I should know about Chekhov’s Gun, which is don’t include something if its not going to be relevant later. Lesson learnt and I need to be more alert to detail now.

And that concludes the Connections Arc as the QR Code was scanned and they saw the welcome message from Maverick and Kyoji cursing Storm’s name. And my ranking shall be a C-. It would be a solid C but the inclusion of Maverick bloating the arc out and the fact that now he’s not being propped up by terrible OCs means the writing flaws of the character are starting to become more apparent and his similarities with Junko makes me question if he is a necessary character in the story or not. I will withhold too much judgement until the next Arc concludes but I did enjoy the Arc until the Storm part so its not enough to drop into D territory so C- it is. Either way, I’ll be watching the next arc with great interest and hopefully my new method of cutting down on needless wavering is making this easier to read. See you once the Storm calms down! -Review Anon

//Once again, thank you for the reviews. And admittedly, yes, I do wish I’d held off on introducing Storm’s plans until the ongoing plot threads were resolved and everyone came home. I can see all this being the beginning of the current arc and it probably would’ve worked better. That’s definitely the biggest flaw I can see with the last arc, though it’s important for setting stuff up and my desire is not for preparations to drag out, but for us to get to what’s important.

//After the Oncoming Storm, I’m wary of writing any more long preparation arcs, especially when I’m stuck in a long depressive episode ^^;

//I’ve never claimed to be a perfect writer or even a good one, but I’ve tried to improve on my writing since my early days. I had very little idea of what I was doing back then and it really does show. I only ask that you all go into the next arc with an open mind and not let past experiences of bad writing color your opinions, which I’m sure you won’t.

//I won’t spoil anything, but this upcoming arc has what’s probably my hardest decision as a writer to date and I’ve decided to committed to it, even if it hurts to think about. 

//I do hope you look forward to what comes next ^^

[anti-the-glitch-bitch]

Into the void

Chapter 2 

Word Count: 3,054

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

I am abruptly awakened by an annoying poking in my side. I groan a bit and try to slap the annoyance away. The poking in my side stops, but now there is a finger poking my cheek nonstop.

“Okay. I’m up. Just stop poking me with that infernal finger before I bite it off.” At that moment, maniacal laughter echoes in the closet. “Anti?” I’m still half asleep when I open my eyes. Beautiful blue eyes are looking straight into mine.

“Ha-ha. Still half asleep, are ya?” Sean chuckles as I scramble for my phone. My cheeks are on fire the moment I hear his cute Irish boi accent. After scrambling for what seems like hours, I finally manage to turn the video off. “Yeah, I guess I am. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I must have been super tired from the flight.” I mumble as I try not to freak out again. Sitting up, I look over at Sean and realize he is sitting on the floor. He must have seen my confusion because he scoots back a bit. “I figured if I was sitting on the floor, ya might not throw another loaf of bread at me.”

“Mark is never going to let me live that down. When I die, it will read. Here lies Bri. She threw a loaf of bread at Sean’s face. Sorry about that, by the way. My body went into panic mode and decided to attack?” Sean just laughs at me and starts to stand up.

“Neither of us will. I wouldn’t be surprised if he makes a commemorative video and tells his fans about all of this. I’m just glad it was soft.” Sean smirks and holds a hand out to me. I hesitated very briefly before taking his hand. With a quick tug, Sean has me out of the closet and on my feet. Huh. Sean is a lot taller than I realized. I mean, I didn’t think he was super short, but I thought he was my height. I’m 5’7”, so I’m not exactly short either, but he seems to be about the same size as Mark.

I stretch for a minute, trying to work the kinks out from sleeping in the closet. Sean walks over to the door to give me a bit of space. Which I very much appreciate. I can’t hear the conniving bastard anywhere, and that makes me very concerned. That means he could be plotting my next humiliating moment.

“You know he did that on purpose, right?” My question seems to confuse him. He cocks his head slightly with a questioning look. “He knows I’m a spazz, so Mark waited to tell me you were gonna stay here, at the second, just to see what happened. Though I don’t think it went down exactly as he expected.” 

We stare at each other for a moment before we both start to laugh. It takes a few seconds for us to calm down. “That does sound like something he would do. He told me you were staying here for a while, but he didn’t warn me that I would have to watch out for flying objects!”

“Exactly! I’m sure he’s hiding somewhere plotting his next big prank.”

“I don’t think so? He told me he had to finish recording. I figured the least I could do was make your lunch since it looks like I interrupted the two of you. That’s why I came looking for ye.” Sean looks so adorable when he blushes. It’s only a slight tinge, but it stands out on his pale skin. It gives me some ideas for a prank or two in the future. “I don’t think I like the look on your face. That’s the kind of look that Mark has when he is up to something.” He backs into the hallway with his hands up as if I might attack him.

I give him an innocent smile as I follow him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just going to the kitchen.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah, we’ll just see about that.” We joke the entire way to the kitchen. My anxiety is all but forgotten. 

My eyes must be playing tricks on me because as Sean passes a mirror in the hallway, his reflection seems to flicker. For a second, it looks like Anti, green hair and all. Very strange because he hasn’t dyed his hair in forever. His hair is his natural brown color.

What in the actual fuck is going on with me today? It must be because I fell asleep watching those videos. I’m starting to doubt my sanity. I’ll have to lay off the Dark\Anti obsession for a while. Otherwise, someone might try to commit me to a nuthouse.

“Bri? You ok over there?” My head snaps to the kitchen, where Sean is standing by the island. I realize I’m just standing in front of the mirror. I take one last look into it, but all I see is me. “Um. Yeah. For a minute, I thought I saw….” I shake my head, realizing how crazy I would sound if I finished that sentence. “Nothing. Never mind.” I smile when I walk over and see a plate with a couple of sandwiches on it.

“If you’re sure.” He returns my smile and pushes the plate towards me. There is a flash of some emotion in his eyes before it disappears. Worry? Concern? I shrug it off and go rummage in the fridge for something to drink. Cans of Mountain Dew are sitting on the bottom level. Ah, my sweet addiction. Mark makes fun of me all the time because I usually have one with me. Yeah, it’s terrible to drink if as much as I do, but I really don’t care.

“So, any idea on how long Mark is gonna be holed up there?” I start digging into one of the sandwiches. Sean looks up from his phone and laughs. “How do you feel about being on camera?”

“What?”

“I said, how do you feel about being on camera?” Sean puts his hands on his hips, giving me a giant smile. “Um...Ok, I guess? Why?” I have no idea what’s going through his head, so I’m just going to roll with it.

“Great! Mark’s getting everything ready now, but in 20 minutes, all his fans are goin ta know we are staying here. You’re going to make your first appearance on the channel!” He is so enthusiastic about this that it’s hard to say no to him. “It’ll be great! All you’ll have to do is say hi. Mark probably won’t start recording until we get in the room. So, hurry up and eat. I’m goin ta see if Mark needs any help setting up.” He slaps my back and is practically bouncing as he leaves the kitchen. I watch the mirror as he walks past it, but nothing weird happens.

I really, really, really need to lay off those videos. They’re making me hallucinate. Either that or the flight messed me up more than I thought. I sigh and start thinking about this new development that Mark has thrown at me unexpectedly. I should have known Mark would have more than one trick up his sleeve. First, it was Sean, and now it’s getting me on camera. I really am going to murder him. Slowly. Like maybe Criminal Minds style. Munching on the sandwiches, I start scheming at ways to get back at Mark. I’m just finishing the second sandwich when my phone goes off.

Mark: Hey, you finished yet?

Bri: Just finished. Why?

Mark: We have everything set up. We’re just about ready for you to come in.

Bri: Give me 10 min. Let me brush my raggedy ass hair and maybe put on a new top.

Mark: Let me know when you’re done.

I put my plate in the sink and grab my drink. Rushing upstairs, I hear laughter coming from down the hall. It sounds like the guys are having fun. When I get to the guest bedroom, I immediately start looking in the duffel bag for my brush. It only takes a few seconds to find it. My hair is short, black with forest green highlights thrown in here and there. It doesn’t take very long to get it thrown up in a high ponytail.

Next, I rummage through the suitcases until I find my Loki shirt. I head to the bathroom to make sure I look semi-decent. The hairs on the back of my neck start standing up, and I get the creepy sensation that somebody is watching me. The mirror doesn’t show anything, but I look around me because I be paranoid like that. There’s really nothing in here with me, but the sensation only gets stronger.

“Back off, ya spooky bitch!” I sort of whisper/shout in the bathroom. I still can’t find anything here, but it never hurts to set boundaries, in case of, you know…. ghosts. That weird feeling fades away, and I feel like I can breathe again.

Well, that’s not terrifying at all. I check the mirror one last time, grab my drink, and head to Mark’s recording room. I can hear Sean’s voice but can’t make out what he is saying.

Bri: Yo. I’m outside the door.

Mark: Come on in.

“What’s happenin Cap’n?” I saunter into the room and see Mark and Sean sitting at the desk that’s along the far wall. They both turn to look at me with a slight smirk. There is an extra chair by Mark that I head towards.

“Hey, guys!! I know you thought Sean was the surprise guest, and he is, but I have someone else I want to introduce you to. This is my best friend, Bri. We grew up in Cincinnati, and she has finally decided to come for a visit.: Mark laughs into the camera as I give him a push.

“Hardy har har. It’s not my fault you moved so far away, you little shit. Keep it up, and I’ll start posting pics. You thought the Septiplier ship had sailed before? It’ll be 20 times worse once I send these bad boys out into the world.” Mark starts groaning while Sean holds his hands up.

“Whoa. Whoa. Hold it there. Don’t bring me into the equation. I didn’t do anything. I’m pretty sure that ship doesn’t need any more references.” We giggle, and I start looking at the screens in front of me.

One monitor has a bunch of technical stuff up along with a box showing the three of us. Another screen has a chatbox that seems to be really active. Comments are flying by so fast that it’s tough to read, though one reoccurring word catches my eye. Checking my phone really quickly, my suspicion is confirmed. “Hey, so I have a question I need to ask everyone watching.” I stand and get behind Mark. I place my hands on his shoulders and start squeezing. Not enough to hurt but enough for me to feel him tense a little. “How mad would y’all be if I murdered our Markimoo here? I was under the impression I would be on a video, not walking into a Live stream.” 

I give Sean a smirk that instantly puts him on guard.” Neither did Sean. I’m thinking that they might need to beg for forgiveness.”

“He told me not to tell you!!” Sean instantly points his finger at Mark while laughing. “I’m too adorable to be murdered, plus I was afraid if I told you, you wouldn’t show up, and then people would think I was crazy.” Mark leans his head back, giving me puppy dog eyes.

“Fineeeeeee. I won’t murder you, but you’ll have to make it up to me with a very incriminating picture. I’ll be taking the picture so I can post it later, and you won’t be able to delete it.” I ruffle the hair on his head as I get back to my seat. They both give a big dramatic groan. “Now, do you see why I wanted her to show up, though I am slightly regretting it.” His gestures get wilder the more animated he gets. It’s all I can do not to rub my hands together and cackle like a witch. 

The stream goes on like this for a few hours. The three of us crack jokes and play a few games together. I watch the chat and answer the questions I can catch. Sometimes they are about me, but a lot are about Mark and Sean. Most of those are just about wanting a shout-out from the guys.

It’s about 6 pm when I finally have to call it quits. Even with the nap I had, I was tired. “Alright, everyone, I enjoyed being here with you guys, far more than I thought I would, but I’m outta here. It was my first time going across the country, and my body is yelling at me for it.” I wave my hand at the camera and try to suppress a yawn. Mark and Sean make cute little pouts and give a fake sigh. “Aww, well, if you must. Everyone give Bri a round of applause. She is a natural in front of the camera. I might even have her join in some of my other videos.”

I take a bow and walk sluggishly towards the door. As I open the door, I feel a hand gently lay itself on my shoulder. I throw an elbow back, thinking it’s Mark, but I don’t make contact with anything. I quickly turn around and make karate-chopping motions, but no one is near me. The guys are still at the desk. Sean looks back at me and starts laughing. “What the fuck are ya doin? I thought you were leavin?”

I do a few more karate chops, just to be funny before I straighten up. “I’m pretty sure a spider tried to attack me; I’m showing it who’s boss. I doubt it will ever try that again, now that it knows I have mad skills.” Mark and Sean laugh and go back to what they are doing. I continue on my way out, severely freaked out. Chica is lying just outside the door, and when she sees me come out, she starts wagging her tail.

“Who’s a good girl? That’s right, you are the bestest doggo in the world!” I love on her a bit and then pat my leg to get her to follow. “Come on, girl. Let’s go outside for a bit. This house is being a spoopy bitch, and I don’t like being inside a horror game.”

We make it outside without an incident. I immediately go flop in the grass on my stomach. I’ve been here less than 24 hours, and I’ve seen some weird shit in the house. I would chalk it all up to ghosts, but that doesn’t explain why I saw Anti in that mirror. I know I still haven’t been sleeping but a few hours here and there, but that shouldn’t make me see things, should it?

There is no way the egos are real. They’re just something Mark and Sean made up. I may like the concept of them, but there is no way I want to meet Anti or Dark for real. Chica comes over to me, trying to lick my face, causing me to laugh. “Alright, girl. Let’s go back into the spooky house because I need some sleep. If I can…” We go inside, and I go back to the guest room. I don’t even bother changing into my pj’s. I just flop into the bed, falling right to sleep.

The Darkness is alive.

My heart is in my throat as I jerk awake. The dreams are all a blur, but I vaguely remember the Darkness trying to hurt me. The bedroom is pitch black, and I struggle to find my phone on the side table. After searching for what seems like hours, I finally find it and check the time. It’s only 3 am, way too early to be up. 

I can’t sleep anymore, so I get up to get a drink. Not sure if it’s remnant feelings from my dreams, but the darkness in the house feels alive. Almost suffocatingly so. I’m paranoid and jumpy as I walk to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, I open the fridge and grab the milk. I really don’t need any sugar right now. After filling the glass, I put the milk back. That weird, creepy feeling is back, and I fucking hate it so much. I quickly close the fridge and turn around, punching the air in front of me.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I came here to get away from my life for a bit. Whatever you are, I don’t care! I haven’t even been here a day, so you need to quite with the spooky shit before I lose my damn mind!” I accentuate that with a few karate chops wildly thrown around.

A deep chuckle seems to come from all around me, making me run for the hills. I leave the milk and make a beeline for the stairs. I grab a pillow and the blanket from my bed and run for Mark’s room. The Darkness pulses as if alive, making me a trip on the blanket. I quickly right myself and quietly enter Mark’s room.

Mark’s bed is high enough off the ground that I can throw the pillow under the bed. I wrap myself in the blanket and slide under the bed. Like a child that knows the monster in the dark is real, I make sure every part of me is covered, including my head. This wasn’t going to be a comfortable place to lay, but I wasn’t staying in my room while this spooky stuff is going on. I was so going to talk to Mark about this in the morning.

“It’s not real,” I mumble to myself over and over again. Every once in a while, I throw in a “Leave me alone.” It feels like forever before everything starts to feel normal again, and I can fall back asleep. 

A precious, dreamless sleep.

[tae-cup]

.hamartia. ‘Part 2,

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (f) x Taehyung (?)

Genre: Mafia!Au, Fluff, Angst (Mostly angst oopsies) I DO NOT CONDONE BEHAVIOR DISPLAYED IN THIS, PLEASE IT’S FICTION AND DON’T DO STUPID THINGS THANK YOU

Plot: Y/N is a skilled, well, torturer, though you don’t like to call yourself that; it makes what you do too real. When mafia boss Yoongi wants information or wants a hostage to suffer, you step in. However, one fateful day you are thrown Taehyung, another person who does your line of work. You need answers, he is determined not to give them to you. That’s when you try...a different approach, and Yoongi is not pleased.

Rating: TV-MA

WARNINGS: YO IF YOU’RE NOT COOL WITH SUBTLE BI AGENDAS THEN I’M SORRY THIS IS NOT THE PLACE FOR YOU, Blood, torture, mafia things (ya know?), drugs alcohol, sadistic tendencies, a fundamentally flawed main character (I’m sorry i’m just writing myself pretty much), assault, harassment, stalking (not bad), romance (somehow), Maybe stockholm syndrome???

Word Count: 2.2k Words

A/N: Okay I need to make up my mind if this is yoongi x reader x taehyung x jimin or just taehyung and yoongi. Please help me- also I haven’t read this over so...I’m sorry if some sentences like don’t make sense 

I’ve had Heather by Conan Gray stuck in my head all day. Anyway...I’m not sure if I like this chapter, but it’ll do haha

Other:

Masterlist

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Next

self·ish/ˈselfiSH/

adjective

(of a person, action, or motive) lacking consideration for others; concerned chiefly with one's own personal profit or pleasure.

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You took a deep breath in. 

“Okay, Y/N, you’re going to try Jimin’s approach, just this once.” You muttered to yourself. You searched around your mind, begging that innocent girl from a year ago to come out. You found her hiding in the closet, door shut, and light off. Her eyes were dark, but her body still radiated a pure glow. She looked up hopefully at you. 

“I always knew you’d come back!” She squealed. 

“right...” You spoke to yourself. Then you scolded yourself, promising you’ll lock her away for good once this is over. For the last time, you handed her the reigns. 

-

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Your hand opened the door quietly. You still had yet to apologize to Jimin, but you decided to get to that later. Of course, when you looked up at Taehyung, he was already awake. Did this man ever sleep? It was still rather early in the morning; around 4 A.M. 

“Hello!” You chirped. You sat down, trying to make conversation. “Are you hurt? Do you ache?” You asked, taking on the caring tactic in full force. You had tugged along a first aid kit to really help solidify trust. 

He didn’t answer, of course. But instead of getting annoyed, you simply smiled warmly at him. 

“It’s okay! Take you’re time. I understand this is all pretty crazy.” You continued, hoping he would see you trying to be genuine. However, trying will never be the same as actually doing it. The dark haired male looked...confused, to say the least. His head tilted to the side, observing you, picking apart your words and trying to understand where this sudden kindness was coming from. There were a million red flags, but you didn’t seem to want to harm him...yet. 

“I see there’s a pretty bad bruised.” You pointed towards his cheek. 

He didn’t respond, then going on to drink in your outfit. With that, he let his lips tug up into a smile. That outfit gave him hope, it made him start believing you weren’t there to hurt him after all. After a moment of thinking, he nodded slowly. 

“Yeah,” His voice was deep and smooth, almost melodic. It soothed you to listen to. “Your friend decided to give me a nice wake up.” 

“Ah, I’ll tell him to stop that. I apologize for yesterday. I had been informed of your arrival so suddenly. I was,” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “I was nervous, a little frazzled.” You sat very innocently, unlike yesterday. He felt he could trust you as you were right now, but it was still terrifying to know that girl yesterday still existed within you. 

“I also think...I think the rope is too tight.” He mused, seeing how far he could push it. This didn’t faze you. You simply nodded, stood, and, almost hesitantly oddly enough, went to loosen his ropes. After you had sufficiently loosened the bindings, he grasped your wrist tightly. 

“Why are you doing this?” He asked. 

“I had a moment of clarity, yesterday.” You explained lamely. 

“Hmph.”

“Why do you trust me?” You cocked an eyebrow up, your face somehow shifting to allude to the monster below. It was to your surprise when he chuckled. 

“Your outfit.” He said slowly. If there was anything he learned in his short time being in this room, it was that black was for blood. Leather meant blood and gray meant bruises. “Your outfit is white.” He breathed. His words were light against your neck where you had crouched to loosen his ropes. How did he know about your outfit coordination? You assumed he was very observant.

You stared at him this time. He was almost devastatingly handsome. Dark eyes and pitch black hair. It made your heart flutter. You quickly put your beating heart into check. Monsters don’t have hearts. You stood, tearing your wrist away from his grasp. 

“Well, I’ll try to make you comfortable.” You said quickly. You wanted to leave the room as soon as possible. Something about being near him made you feel ill. 

“If you really wanted me to feel comfortable, you’d let me out.” 

“You know I can’t do that.” You whispered more to yourself than anything else. You knew he heard it when he let out a little sigh, tossing his head to the side to move his bangs. 

You left in a hurry, feeling him stare at your back.

-

-

Yoongi didn’t seem pleased. 

“Please, Y/L/N, tell me why you let Jimin talk you into this idea.” He sighed. He looked exhausted, but he always did. You found yourself wondering if he had eaten and slept well. You shooed those thoughts away, not wanting them to distract you. 

“Oh drop the formalities, Yoongi.” You sneered. Yoongi didn’t respond, but his eyes did narrow at yours. You didn’t feel intimidated. You knew that look, you’d seen it a million times. 

After a brief pause, you continued, “I felt...I felt bad for something I said to him earlier. I thought I could give it a try, but it’s harder to build trust than I thought.” You trailed off, thinking to yourself: It’s so much easier to just break it. 

He nodded slowly, listening to your explanation. The pale man sat in his leather chair. He was a laid back sort of man. One leg was crossed over the other as he leaned back lazily. A drink of whiskey was in his hand. He swirled the brown liquid around in the glass before setting it down. Now he leaned forward, seeming to ponder the idea. 

“I think it might work, actually.” He wasn’t entirely sure, but he liked watching you squirm. 

“Really?” 

“Is there something wrong with trying a new tactic? Your job is to get information, I never said how.” 

This was the sort of argument often used in the other direction; the argument that allowed you to do whatever twisted thing came to mind. 

“But, Yoongi,” You pleaded. “I’m not cut out for this. I was just not made to love.” You looked down at your twiddling thumbs, feeling yourself turn back into that little girl from a year ago. You hated her. You should have just put her back in that closet, but here she was, popping out to say hello again. “You should know that better than anyone else, Yoongi.” Your voice was soft, but it held a certain steel to it. 

He softened instantly. That voice was all too familiar; that tone. 

“Y/N.” He cleared his throat before looking you deep in the eyes. “Every human being is made to love.” He turned around, facing the windows at the end of the office. “Sometimes, you just don’t know how to.” His mind was slowly getting lost in grief. He was grieving you, us, together. “Dismissed.” He couldn’t help feeling a pang of jealousy at the thought of you being close to another man other than Jimin. He had to let it go though, you guys were over and you have been for a few months. Besides, you never showed any signs of liking him still so he had to let go of you a little. 

You didn’t even bother trying to argue. You could sense he had become distracted, lost in thought. You were glad for the dismissal as you could feel yourself getting lost as well. 

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“Oh god, please, no.” The young girl shook like a leaf. She looked to only be a year or so younger than you. “Please, you don’t have to do this.” 

The sound of a gun cocking shut her up. Hesitation flickered through you. You thought of your own family, now dead, and your own morality. Ever since coming to the mafia, you had refused to hurt anyone. Now you were being forced to. It was your humanity, your sanity, V.S. a new found family known as the mafia. 

In contrast to her sister, the girl who was actually in danger, Hwayeong, stood absolutely still. You didn’t plan on humiliating her. You just wanted the job done and over with. She was directly involved in the murder of Yoongi’s father. It seemed insane, but she did have nerves of steel, despite her angelic face. You swallowed thickly, your mouth suddenly feeling very dry. 

“I know you’re scared.” Hwayeong had a soothing voice, like a calm lake that washes over you. “And I know you were forced into this life, but you can change.” She didn’t sound fearful, though you knew she must be. “I’d welcome you with open arms.” She didn’t sound concerned or even pitying, she just sounded genuine. The dark haired girl sounded understanding and compassionate. 

“I have to do this job.” You said quietly, gun still pointed at her, but now shaking. Hwayeong seemed to understand because she nodded her head, stepping forward. She grabbed the gun’s end and moved your arm so it pointed at her forehead. Her eyes stared into yours, pools of obsidian. 

“Then do it. I have nothing left to bargain and I’m not going to deny the killing of that cruel man.” She held her head high. She seemed a proud woman. “But for the love of god, stop shaking, I want the shot to be clean and the death soon and blessed.” 

You couldn’t help but gape at her request. She wrapped her slender fingers around yours on the handle. 

“Shoot me.” She didn’t break eye contact, and you didn’t either. “Shoot me and we’ll all call it a suicide. I know how it feels to be in your position.” That raised a million questions. Was this the right choice?

“I-” The bang of the gun shocked you. You jumped, stumbling back a few steps as you stared at the body before you. You had held the gun. She had pulled the trigger. While her family screamed and sobbed, tied up and terrified, you ran outside and heaved the contents of lunch onto the lawn out front. You brought your sleeve up and wiped away the food around your mouth. Then you went back inside. 

The house felt so small now. It was almost suffocating as you untied the family members. They stood in silence. You picked up the gun and slowly rose. You looked each member in their eyes, barely acknowledging their hollowness. 

“This was a suicide.” You nodded at each of them. They nodded slowly back. “If I hear otherwise, you’re all dead.” And that was the last straw. The last humanity left in you. Those obsidian black eyes still burned into you. 

-

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Unlike last night, you jerked awake with this one, your heart racing. Why now? Why were you reliving these painful memories now? For the past few months it’s been so easy to just push and push the memories deep down. You had locked them in your basement. So how had they flooded back up so suddenly. They were suffocating you. 

You felt like you couldn’t breathe. You reached out for someone to hug, someone to hold, only to find no one. Instead, you curled up, squeezing your eyes shut as tight as possible. You weakly hit your head with a fist as if to release these memories. You let your mind to turn to something else. The reality of the dream slowly slipped away. Her eyes left your mind temporarily; it was something you had sworn you’d never forget. 

Fuck. You still needed to apologize to Jimin. He would probably be upset to know that you didn’t even notice that he wasn’t there all day. But the point was that you thought of him now. Only now did you realize how much you missed his company.

 He would have known what to say to Taehyung to get him to talk more. Jimin, yes, helped you get information, but he was also a silver tongue. He could talk his way into and out of most things. That’s how he was “hired” for this mafia. He actually had been kidnapped, much like Taehyung. But, he managed to talk the, much more naive at the time, interrogator to move him upstairs. Then he talked them into letting him borrow a car. By the time he could escape, he knew too much and he knew the other members too well. He didn’t want to leave them. 

You suddenly felt very sympathetic for him. Maybe it was because the old you had the reigns. So now here you were, standing outside his room, lost in thought. You didn’t even knock when he opened the door. 

“I suspected you would come.” He scoffed, trying to look indifferent. You didn’t wait for him to finish his sentence as you engulfed him in a hug. 

“I’m sorry, about everything.”

He carefully hugged you back, hands going to your neck to pull you in closer. “I know.” He whispered.

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ahhhhhh that’s it for part 2, I’ll make part 3 soon! Let me know what you 

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