#<- this will make more sense in the next part

[jayybugg]

drunken confessions

Theodore Nott x FemRavenclaw!Reader

Summary: Theo drinks a little bit more than he should....

Warnings: Drinking, No use of Y/N, Only mentions being in Ravenclaw once, and very cute???

Word Count: 1.6K

Note: Long time no see, my loves! I took a really long hiatus abruptly because life was kicking my ass badly. I decided that my first fic back should be a Theo fluff because who would I be if I didn't give this boy all of my attention? I hope you guys all enjoy it.

Banners by @cafekitsune

Music boomed through the Slytherin common room as you tried to navigate the sweaty bodies and screaming teens. You were trying to find Theodore, the person who had invited you. It was a celebratory party for Slytherin winning the quidditch game against Hufflepuff. You were in the Ravenclaw house but are good friends with many people in Slytherin.

"Oy," Draco pulled you to the side, "Looking for Theo?"

"Yeah, you've seen him?" you asked, gripping his arm so no one could separate you both. Draco nodded, pulling you to a separate room where Pansy, Daphne, Blaise, Enzo, Mattheo, and Theo sat.

"Finally, you're here." Daphne pulled you in for a hug, whispering in your ear, "Drunk pants over there have been asking about you for the past hour."

You glanced over at Theo, who was very drunk. "He never drinks this much." You whispered back to Daphne. She shrugged. "He caught the stitch. Winner of the game tonight."

You nodded, walking over to Theo and sitting next to him. He immediately grinned and wrapped his arms around your waist. "I've been waiting for you all night," Theo said, speaking slowly so his words didn't get slurred.

"I'm sorry. Why'd you drink so much without me?" You asked, tapping softly on his wrist. "I didn't mean to." Theo said, "Won the game, so people had given me a bunch of drinks."

You nodded, allowing Theo to go back to being the life of the party. Enzo sat down next to you, to keep you company as the party continued.

"So, what's your excuse for not being at the game tonight?" Enzo asked.

"That project for Transfiguration. My partner is an idiot who waited last minute to do his part, so I had to help him. I feel bad for missing it." You said, taking a sip of your water.

"Theo was upset that you weren't there. Probably what motivated him to win the game. That boy is obsessed with you," Enzo said, nudging you. You cleared your throat, feeling a sudden sense of nervousness. "We're just friends, Enzo."

"For now." Enzo wiggled his eyebrows. You laughed at him, rolling your eyes.

Did you like Theo? Yeah, but you didn't think he would like you back. He had a lot of girls on him and he could choose any of them. You were so wrapped in your mind and your conversation that you didn't notice that Theo had wandered off until you heard your name being called.

"Take Theo back to his dorm, please!" Blaise pleaded as he and Mattheo held a nearly blacked-out Theo up. You hopped up, grabbing Theo from them.

"Oh, hey, pretty girl." Theo drunkenly grinned at you. You smiled back. "You should've stopped drinking, Teddy."

"Really should've." Mattheo agreed. "You know where his dorm is. Don't worry about cleaning up down here, we got it."

You nodded, saying your goodbyes to everyone before walking upstairs to Theo's room.

"Pretty girl." Theo dragged out the pet name. "Your hair is so soft."

"Thanks, Teddy." You opened the door to his room, switched on the lights, and put him on the bed.

"Come on, let's get you in pajamas." You tapped his nose lightly, making him smile at you.

"You're so pretty, pretty girl. That's why I call you 'pretty girl' because you're so fucking pretty. Sometimes I think you're otherworldly because of it," Theo gushed, falling back on his bed. You felt your heartbeat pick up as the compliments flowed from Theo's mouth.

"Thank you, Theo. Here, put this shirt on." You handed the shirt to Theo, who shook his head no. "I like to be shirtless."

Theo pulled his shirt over his head and threw it in the hamper. You tried your best not to stare at his chest before handing him a pair of pants.

"You're taking good care of me, pretty girl. I wish you could always take care of me. Merlin, I love you so much." Theo spoke again. You felt your eyes widen as you looked at him. "What?" You said softly.

"I love you like I'm so in love with you. I just want to be with you all the time." Theo continued. You cleared your throat, pushing him under the covers. Theo was clearly saying anything to you because he was drunk. If Pansy or Daphne were here, he would probably say the same thing. You forced yourself to repeat that to yourself repeatedly so you could believe it.

"Get some sleep, Theo, goodnight." You switched off his light as you swung his door open. "Goodnight, my pretty girl. I love you." Theo said.

You quickly shut the door, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. You didn't know how to interpret what had just happened. Theo admitted to being in love with you. Or did he? He was drunk, so he probably wasn't serious. Yeah, he was drunk. You took a deep breath before making your way back downstairs.

Mattheo saw you hurry down the stairs and raised his eyebrow at you, "You good? Is Theo okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine. I'm just gonna go back to my dorm," You said. Mattheo eyed you, "What happened?"

"What? Why would anything happen?" You asked, diverting your eyes anywhere but to Mattheo's.

"..."

You sighed, glancing down at your feet, "Theo said he was in love with me."

The room froze as everyone turned their heads to look at you. Suddenly, you felt tiny. "What? Why are you guys staring at me like that?" You asked.

"Nothing! It's just...." Daphne glanced at everyone, "We didn't expect Theo to confess that when he was drunk."

"Yeah, I had galleons on an angry confession followed by an angry, passionate kiss," Draco said, causing Pansy to hit him in the arm.

You blinked. Confess? Confess as in.... he's been holding this in for a long time?

"Wait, so he's telling the truth, and you all knew it?" You asked. Everyone made noises in agreement.

"I mean, everyone can see how head over heels he is for you. You were the only one denying it." Blaise said. Your face felt hot, and you shook your head, "I'm going to my dorm."

Everyone laughed, bidding you goodbye.

Theo woke up the next day with a terrible headache.

"Ahh, there's our champion." Blaise's teasing voice caused Theo to groan.

"Why would I ever drink that much?" Theo asked, mainly to himself. Enzo laughed, setting a cup of water and some medicine on Theo's bedside. "I don't know, but it was quite entertaining to see you get taken care of by your pretty girl." Enzo's voice was teasing and light.

Theo's face immediately heated at the idea of acting like a fool in front of you. "Did I do something stupid in front of her?"

Blaise and Enzo shared a look before shrugging. Theo looked at both of them. "What? What did I do? Oh, Merlin, tell me I didn't embarrass myself."

"I wouldn't say you embarrassed yourself," Blaise said.

"But sober Theo definitely wouldn't have confessed to her that he's in love with her," Enzo said.

It took Theo a moment to realize what Enzo had said before his face turned completely red in shame and embarrassment.

"I told her I was in love with her?" Theo groaned loudly. That was not how he pictured confessing to you. Well, he never pictured confessing his feelings to you because he was scared and had no intentions of doing it.

"It's a good thing, don't you think? I mean, she finally knows." Blaise said, "Although she might need some convincing because she thinks you only said it because you were drunk and probably didn't mean it."

Theo hopped out of his bed, finding the nearest t-shirt before slipping on his shoes. He had already confessed how he felt and if it's already out there, there's no point in hiding it.

Theo spirited to your dorm, not muttering a good morning to anyone as he pushed past them. Finally, he got to your dorm and banged on it until he heard your feet shuffling.

"Teddy?" You asked groggily before focusing your eyes on the out-of-breath and frizzled Theo in front of you, "What the hell happened to you?"

"I meant it."

"What?"

There was silence between you two. He knew you knew what he was talking about, so it didn't take long for realization to take over your face.

"I meant it." Theo repeated himself, "Every word I said last night while I was sloppy drunk was true."

"I have been trying to work up the courage to say something about it for the last year or so. Granted, I didn't think it would be while I was drunk."

"How long?" You tilted your head to the side, with a hint of amusement gracing your face.

Theo's face flushed pink, as he knew you were teasing him, as well as being genuinely curious. "Since first year. When I saw you on the train to school."

"You didn't even speak to me until third year."

"I was nervous." Theo let out a breath. "I watched you, though."

You held back a laugh as Theo immediately turned even more red. "That was creepy. I didn't mean it like that! I just— we've shared a lot of classes and— I'm going to shut up."

You stood on your tippy toes, kissing Theo's flushed cheeks. "I've had a crush on you since second year."

"Really?"

You nodded, smiling. "So what now?"

"Um, will you go on a date with me? Maybe next weekend after the quidditch game?" Theo asked, feeling more nervous than ever.

"I would love to, " you smiled. And I won't miss this game, I promise."

"I'm holding you to that." Theo smiled back.

You gave Theo another kiss on the cheek. "It's still early. I'll see you later, okay?"

Theo nodded, and you smiled, closing your door. Theo stayed there for a few more seconds until he realized he probably looked crazy for just smiling at your door.

Who knew getting drunk had some perks?

[nativegirltapes]

boyfriend headcanons . . . . featuring drew starkey !

notes: hcs for boyfie >.< i'll probably do a part 2 bc there's so much you can cover doing boyfriend hcs lol. not proofread bc i am lazy. these are all kinda random idk.

sfw

sweetest boyfriend ever! he’s genuinely just too kind for his own good. he pays attention to the little things, listens to you, spoils you rotten, is constantly complimenting you, and never lets his love for you go unheard. you didn’t think it was possible for boyfriend like drew to exist until you met him.

whenever asked about you in interviews he gets all smiley and flustered. doesn’t matter if you’ve been together for a year or for 17 years, he’s still cheesing and talking about you like you’re the only woman to ever exist.

he loves staying in and reading books. i can see him helping you broaden your horizons when it comes to reading. he’ll buy you both a copy of a book he’s been itching to read and he’ll let you read it at your own pace but he’s constantly asking questions about how far you are in it and what you think.

drew is soooo secretly clingy. everyone knows he loves physical touch and being around his loved ones, but they don’t realize how ‘bad’ it really is. he’s literally a big baby in a 6’4 beefy mans body. when you’re getting up in the morning he’s the type to say “no, don’t leave yet. just a few more minutes.” and yank you back into bed and kiss every crevice of your body. or he’ll always want his arms around your waist, he just loves holding you and making you feel safe because you make him feel safe too.

drew has no problem taking on the more "womanly roles", he loves cooking, cleaning and doing really any household chores for you. he's such a good cook, sometimes you'll come home to the best pasta of your life. he loves making sure you're fed asf and healthy!

he's so supportive of literally everything you do! he'll always hear you out on everything, even things you think are "stupid" or "not good ideas". if you want to pursue something, he's always the first person backing you up.

nsfw

he can man handle you like it's nothing. whenever you're teasing him he'll just pick you up and take you to his room and throw you on the bed, and you're just giggling the whole way there.

size kink. more for you than him...... but you love how big he is compared to you. his big arms, big back, big hands, his height. just standing next to him having him basically hovering over you is enough to get you going.

drew is soooo sweet in bed, he really takes his time with you. foreplay is huge for the both of you; kissing, heavy petting, dry humping. he's so playful and just wants the experienced to be fun and feel good for the both of you. obviously drew loves sex, but I don't think he sees it as something he necessarily needs, but moreso is just happy he gets to experience, especially with you. if that makes sense, he's just happy he gets to be with someone who makes him feel good and thinks he's sexy. and obviously vice verse, he's happy he gets to make you feel good and thinks you're the sexiest woman alive.

he loves to experiment. if you're ever down to try something new, so is he! he makes your relationship such a comfortable space to share and talk about new things you want to try.

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

yandere!young justice x magician and sorcerer!reader

BUUUUUUUUUT,the readed is a part of the team,however,shows no interest in them,and it just there because she kinda just has to,and no matter how much they try to get her attention,she never gives them any of it.

(I love your writing btw😼)

Yandere! Young Justice x magician! Reader

The Cave was quiet, as it always was at night, the hum of machines and distant murmurs of the world outside barely touching the stillness that clung to the mountain like a second skin. In this isolated hollow, surrounded by the cool stone walls, you could hear your own thoughts—the whisper of spells, the pulse of magic, the unspoken words you chose not to say.

You never had to explain yourself here, never had to wear the mask of pleasantries or pretend you cared about anything more than the mission. The others, they didn’t understand. They couldn’t, not really. You weren’t like them, never had been. You didn’t need the comfort of their companionship. You didn’t want their attention, their curiosity, or their pity.

And yet, they tried.

Conner was always watching. A silent presence, brooding and intense, always lingering in the background, his eyes following your every movement. He never asked questions—no, that wasn’t his style. Instead, he observed, the way a predator watches its prey, calculating, waiting. He never made an effort to speak, not in the way Wally did with his incessant jokes or M'gann with her quiet warmth. Conner was patient, cold, waiting for something to crack, for something to change.

His silence was a constant reminder. He didn’t need to speak; you could feel his presence, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you, always at the edge of your vision, always waiting.

It was unsettling, but you never let it show.

Wally was a different story altogether. His energy was like a crackling fire, unpredictable, always bouncing from one thing to the next. He couldn’t sit still, couldn’t leave you be. "Come on," he would say, leaning over your shoulder as you worked on a spell, his grin wide and carefree. "Show me something cool. You know you’ve got some crazy magic tricks up your sleeve."

His insistence was always accompanied by that grin of his, mischievous and bright, as though his charm could draw you out of your shell. But you never did. You never gave him the satisfaction of seeing you smile, never let him see you as more than just another teammate. It wasn’t his fault—he was just trying to make the team feel more like a family. But you didn’t care about family. You didn’t care about any of them.

“I’m busy,” you’d say, dismissing him with a flick of your hand, returning to your spell. And Wally, ever the optimist, would laugh and zip away, the sound of his footsteps echoing as he left you to your silence.

But it wasn’t enough for him, no. His persistence was a thing of legend. Sometimes you’d catch him watching you, his gaze fixed, a question burning in his eyes. "Why are you always like this?" he seemed to ask with every look. But he never voiced it. Instead, he’d turn away, hoping that somehow, eventually, you’d change your mind.

Then there was Robin. The dark and silent watcher. He knew how to stay in the shadows, how to be everywhere without being seen. His presence was like the night itself—always there, always watching, never truly gone. Robin was the most subtle of them all. He never asked outright; instead, he would drop little comments, observations that always felt like a puzzle, like he was trying to figure you out, piece by piece.

"You know, you could talk to us more," he’d say, casually leaning against the wall as he watched you work. His tone was light, almost playful, but you could sense the undercurrent of something more—something deeper. “We don’t bite, you know.”

You didn’t respond. Of course, you didn’t. The only response he got was the steady flick of your fingers over the spellbook, the quiet hum of magic filling the space between you. He didn’t try to get too close, not like Wally or M'gann, but his eyes never stopped tracking you, always measuring, always calculating. Robin was patient, the kind of person who knew that some things took time, that some people had walls that needed to be broken down slowly.

And you? You weren’t going to let him.

M'gann was the opposite. Her presence was always warm, soft, inviting. She would sit beside you, her legs tucked under her, her eyes wide with curiosity. "You know," she would say with that gentle voice of hers, "I could help you with your spells. I can be a good study partner, if you ever need one."

Her kindness wasn’t forced, never had been. It was natural for her, as natural as breathing. She wasn’t like the others who were driven by some sense of duty or curiosity. No, M'gann’s attention was genuine, a quiet offer of companionship. She was the one who tried to reach you without asking, without expecting anything in return.

But you didn’t need help. You didn’t need her to reach you. And so, you’d quietly decline, giving her nothing more than a polite smile before returning to the words in your book, the pages filled with symbols that had no need for her warmth.

And then there was Artemis. The sharp, straightforward one. She didn’t waste time on subtlety. Her approach was always direct, blunt, like a sharp blade that never hesitated. "You don’t have to be so closed off, you know," she’d say, her voice a mix of irritation and something else. It was hard to tell with Artemis—her eyes were always guarded, her emotions always hidden behind a wall of indifference. "We’re all in this together."

She had a point, of course. But you didn’t care. You didn’t care about being “in it together.” You had your own path to follow, and they weren’t a part of it. You didn’t need to explain that to her, or to anyone. So, you’d give her a nod, a brief acknowledgment that wasn’t really an acknowledgment, and move on with your work.

Kaldur was the calm one, the quiet one. His respect for you was obvious, but it never crossed the line into anything more. He would offer you a nod as he passed, his gaze soft, his presence steady like the water he controlled. He didn’t push you the way the others did. He didn’t try to break down your walls. He simply respected them, kept his distance, and allowed you to be as you were.

But even Kaldur had moments when his gaze would linger on you, just a second too long, like he was waiting for you to finally open up, to let him see more than the cold silence you kept locked behind your eyes.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Enough for you to feel the weight of their gaze, the quiet pressure of their attention. They thought they understood you. They thought that if they just tried enough, kept reaching out, eventually, you’d let them in.

But you wouldn’t.

In the midst of their attempts, you kept your distance, always lost in the pages of your spells, your incantations, the quiet hum of power that thrummed beneath your fingertips. They were drawn to you, like moths to a flame, their fascination burning just beneath the surface of their words, their glances, their actions.

But you would remain untouched. You would keep your secrets locked away, your magic a barrier between you and the world they wanted to draw you into.

They didn’t understand it, not really. They couldn’t. You were not like them. You didn’t need what they offered. You didn’t need to be a part of their team, their family, their world. You were the silent watcher, the one who kept their distance while they reached out, always hoping that something would change.

But it wouldn’t.

You weren’t there for them. You were there because you had a purpose, one that had nothing to do with them, nothing to do with the team, and nothing to do with any of their quiet, unspoken obsessions. You would remain distant, and they would keep trying, never understanding why you remained so cold, so unreachable.

And that, for now, was enough.

(A/n: thank you kind fellow fur🤭😽)

[liahaslosthermind]

~𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭~ Part 3

Part 3 of The Spy Master's Secret Find more ACOTAR works here! Summary: The Inner Circle meets the most important person in Azriel's life. Warnings: Lia rewrites what the Carranam bond is to fit her own fantasy, (Mention of) Bad injuries and domestic abuse, (Mention of) Azriel's dad 🤢, Inner Circle loves to STAY in Azriel's business, I actually write Rhys as not an asshole in this one

“My Carranam.” The Spy Master replied.

No one was given time to think, much less respond, before Azriel had commanded everyone to leave the room. They would have been more reluctant to do so, the desire to know what the hell he meant was painful, had the serious look on the strange female’s face, and the look of despair on Azriel’s, had given them the impression this conversation was better left between the two. 

Out in the hallway, Cassian finally voiced his concern, 

“Should we have left him alone with whoever that was? He isn’t in any state to be fighting back should he ne-”

Amren scoffed at the question. “I’d trust her with him far more than you all.”

 “What do you mean? Do you know her?” Elain asked.

“No, but he is her Carranam. You all might not know the significance of such a bond- I don’t even know much about it myself, but I know enough to believe there is no one who would protect and cherish him more.” There was a sort of amazement and respect in Amren’s eyes that told the rest of them that she was right. Gave them enough information to walk away from the bedroom, content on letting Azriel come to them when he was ready.

—

The Inner Circle was no longer content waiting for their Spy Master to make an appearance. All had been sitting at the dining table for what must have been millenia, plates full with no appetite as millions of questions swarmed their heads. Amren had seemingly been the only one to have any idea what any of this could have meant, but the second she got the chance, she disappeared so she wouldn’t be bothered with questions about something that had nothing to do with her. 

Finally, Nesta broke the silence.

“Do you think he is purposefully trying to torture us by taking forever?” She asked, eyeing the very apparent shadows in the corner that had been slithering to and from the room since they had all sat down. “Or do you think she is-”

“It would be my fault Azriel was occupied for a bit.” The strange fae announced as she entered the room, Azriel by her side with a slight limp. The two looked… strange together, but also so right. White feathered wings stood tall behind the female, nicely contrasting Azriel’s leathery Illyrian ones. Where he was crowned in darkness and shadows, she seemed to have bathed in light. It should have contrasted each other terribly, but their stark differences only seemed to compliment the other.

It also didn’t escape anyone’s notice how their friend looked thousands of times better than he did just hours earlier.

He was still clearly injured, but far from the edge of death he teetered on these past few days.

“How? Madja could only do so much for him.” Rhysand asked, astonished at how well his brother looked.

She helped him into his seat before taking the empty one next to him. Even as they got comfortable, her hand never left his arm, finding comfort in his touch after days of agony and helplessness.

“Junia is a healer. The best Dawn has to offer.” Azriel said, the pride clear in his voice. It made sense that she- Junia had been from Dawn. A Peregryn and an Illyrian, two lesser fae known for their warrior skills and inherent desire for the skies. 

“I am not as skilled as Madja, but it's easier to heal when you know exactly what is wrong, exactly what hurts.” Junia said, rolling her eyes at Azriel’s shameless bragging. 

She let out a deep and rich laugh as she looked at everyone’s faces, all pained by the many questions swirling around in there. Feyre noted that she hadn’t heard such a joyous laugh since Azriel had done the same when Elain had gifted him medicine for all the headaches the Inner Circle gave him. 

Clearly, whatever bond they had between them was deep.

“You better introduce me, put them out of their misery.” She teased Az, who had been too caught up relishing her laugh, after a very long and rough berating it was nice to see her not seconds away from tearing out his wings. 

“R-right. Uh- this is my- well this is-” Azriel stammered.

“Mother above Az, don’t hurt yourself," Cassian amused.

Azriel closed his mouth as he blushed, unsure of how to go about this. 

“My name is Junia. As the brooding bat said, I am his Carranam.” Junia answered, side eyeing Azriel.

Keep it together, Az. It's a little pathetic. 

Azriel responded to her teasing look with a glare. We haven’t had to tell anyone about this in a while. Why don’t you try to explain it to these idiots if you are so clever.

Rhysand noticed the silent conversation going on between them.

“You can converse like Daemati? Is that your ability?” The High Lord asked her.

They both hesitated, realizing they didn’t really know how their so-called “telepathy” worked.

“No- or I don’t believe so at least. When you communicate with someone, you are doing so verbally, even if not aloud, correct? I don’t hear Azriel’s voice in my head, I just feel what he is trying to tell me, if that makes sense.”

“Like a mating bond?” Feyre questioned.

“Also no. It's not our feelings that are conveyed solely, we can gather more specific meaning from it. Yes, Junia would feel I was not excited for this conversation, but she would also know I was offering her one last chance to leave, should she also not want to deal with all of your… strong personalities.” Azriel responded, looking at Junia. He really didn’t want to have this conversation with his family.

She laughed at his desperation which, while very clear to her, she knew the Inner Circle was none the wiser to the just how far Azriel was willing to go to leave this table. She could see him coming up with escape routes in his head as he picked up his wine glass. 

“Oh you poor delicate flower,” She teased. 

Unfortunately, they all still noticed the blush that once again appeared on Az’s face, laughing at their scary brother, head tortured of the Night Court, being compared to a ‘delicate flower’. 

Downing the rest of his glass, Azriel finally explained.

“A carranam bond isn’t like a mating bond. It comes from an old phrase, A Soul Friend. It gives Junia and I the ability to channel each other's powers, even make them stronger when we are together. Like you noticed, we have a different, more intimate way of communicating, far stronger than Daemati and mates can.”

“How the hell has no one else here heard of this bond?” Nesta asked, skeptical. Seems like something a group of people as obsessed with the mating bond would know about.

“It is rare, extremely so. There are also many… vulnerabilities that come with a bond such as this. To find your carranam is hard enough, most will never be born with one. But to accept such a bond is dangerous. And unfortunately there have been instances of others abusing such a gift. Tying their carranam up to reap their abilities, taking so much from them that both end up going insane. It became illegal in many places and eventually was forgotten by our world.” Junia answered.

“How did you find out what you guys had?” Feyre jumped in.

While this was Junia’s story as much as Azriel’s, she hesitated. Because there was another factor to that story, and she didn’t believe she was the one who should talk about it first.

Another glance between the two, a question asked. Azriel answered it by speaking up, “Junia is from Dawn. After my… mother was released- rescued from my father’s abuse, she wasn’t in wonderful shape. Fortunately, Rhys, Cassian, and myself found a place created by High Lord Thesan’s mother that offered aid to those escaping similar situations, Rosehall. That is where Junia worked as head healer. She helped my mother a lot throughout the years.” Such admiration and gratitude in his voice made several people at the table start to tear up.

Everyone was quiet. While Rhysand, Cassian, and Mor knew the story of Azriel’s mother being sent to Rosehall, they hadn’t known about Junia, just about the healer Az’s mother had gotten along with-

“You are the friend of his mother’s he sends gifts to every Solstice?” Mor asked, having been approached by Azriel for help with buying said gifts many times in the past.

“I thought you picked those gifts out yourself? You didn’t tell me Mor did all the work.” Junia turned to Az.

“I do pick them out, you just have peculiar taste. I have needed her help locating shops to buy such things before. That's it.” Az defended.

I certainly do have peculiar taste she silently said to Az who, again, blushed at the double entendre.

He quickly cleared his throat, “A few years after my mother had entered her care, while I was visiting, there was an attack on Rosehall. It was one of the families of a newer resident enacting revenge for escaping abuse. When many were hurt or dying… or dead, the two of us the only ones available to help, this bond had snapped out because of that desperation. It was new but it felt like it had always been there. We both leaned into the feeling and fortunately it didn’t end terribly. Suddenly, my shadows were able to start healing, and were able to talk to Junia, giving her any info on people who needed her help that she couldn’t see.”

Everyone was astonished at such a story. So different but also so similar to the mating bond. 

“Since then we have been each others’ confidants. While we don’t live particularly close, shadow walking gives me the ability to come to him whenever, and vice versa. Plus the connection is always there, even miles upon miles apart.” Junia answered. 

“Why keep it a secret?” Cassian questioned, knowing how much a connection like this would matter to Az, but confused because wouldn’t he want his family to know about him having such a bond?

“I am not exactly without enemies, Cas. I couldn’t have a possibility of someone coming after her because of me.” The sound of raw pain in his voice let his family know that this wasn’t something that was simply a fear. 

Someone had gone after her in revenge.

“Your secret is safe with us. You are safe with us. Should you need anything, just say the word.” Rhysand offered. 

The two carranam looked at each other. “After I spent a while yelling at Azriel for scaring me half to death multiple times in the past few days. We decided that maybe it was best I… step back from Rosehall.” Junia explained, sadness present in her tone as she talked about leaving the place that had been her sole purpose for her entire life. “I have healers on my staff that deserve the promotion, including Azriel’s mother, who has used her experiences to really become a confidant and friend to so many of our residents.” 

Azriel’s throat bobbed at the mention of just how much his mom had healed and helped since she escaped his father. 

Excitement filled the room at the possibility of adding another to their family. But Junia was still painfully aware of just how many questions everyone had.

“Alright, now that all the nitty gritty is out of the way, you can all begin your interrogation,” she teased.

All at once, tens of questions left everyone’s mouth. Not a single one able to be distinguished over the rest.

Azriel’s hand reached down to hold Junia’s, squeezing her while seeming to say I told you we should have escaped while we could.

They both downed their wine glasses while they waited for the Inner Circle to tire themselves out. 

A/N: Originally, this was the end. But I think I created so much backstory and also fell too much in love with Junia not to add more. So please let me know if you'd like more to this series! (And what you’d like to see)

Taglist: @bunnyred-blog1 @that-one-bibliophole @fuckingsimp4azriel @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minaaminaa8 @lilah-asteria @azrielswhore @maksamillion

(If you are featured here but you didn't get tagged, check your privacy settings to make sure you allow for tags!)

[littlespoonevan]

your hand in my pocket to keep us both warm

post 8x08 because i'm SAD in a way that can only be eased with buddie hurt/comfort 💔 title from abstract (psychopomp) by hozier

-

Buck is the one to drive him to the airport because who else would it be?

It feels a lot like deja vu as he approaches the glass doors of Departures but his step only falters for a moment before Eddie’s hand is catching his sleeve at the elbow and leading him through them. It’s further than Abby ever let him get.

Eddie lets him go as far the security line and he almost looks regretful when he turns to face Buck.

Buck would like to think he’s handled this well so far. He’s been supportive, helped Eddie choose his new home, listened to his fears about his parents, reassured him about Christopher, promised to oversee the shipping of the rest of Eddie’s stuff next week. He’s done everything right.

It hasn’t made any of this feel less wrong.

They look at each other now, awkward in a way they never are, until Eddie drops his bag and pulls him into a hug without saying anything.

Maybe because there’s nothing to say. Buck’s heart has been lodged in his throat since he parked the car; he’s not even sure he could say anything if he wanted to.

Eddie’s arms around him are a familiar weight though so Buck allows himself to sink into them. To tuck his chin into the crook of Eddie’s shoulder and to fist his hands in the back of his jacket like if he holds on tight enough he might be able to convince Eddie to stay.

When Eddie does pull back he makes no attempt to leave the circle of Buck’s arms. Instead one of his hands goes to that same spot at the juncture of Buck’s neck – always the same spot – and when his thumb makes contact with the divot in Buck’s throat he seeks out Buck’s gaze.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Buck croaks, the tell-tale burn behind his eyes becoming more pronounced by the second.

“Like I’m Abby,” Eddie sighs. “Or Ali. Or Tommy. I’m not leaving you, Buck.”

Buck tries to laugh but it comes out too hysterical and Eddie’s hand tightens on his neck.

“I’m leaving,” he allows. “But I’m not leaving you.”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you,” Buck says, the words wobbling in the middle. His hands are still twisted in Eddie’s jacket.

“And you think I do?” Eddie asks with a half-laugh. “Who am I gonna talk to when my folks are driving me crazy? Who am I gonna talk to when I do anything? Besides, you think Chris will accept you not visiting at least once a month?”

Truthfully, Buck has no idea what Chris wants right now but he clings to Eddie’s words anyway.

“Everyone at work is gonna find me insufferable. It was bad enough that last time you weren’t there.”

Eddie laughs again, thumb brushing Buck’s neck seemingly absentmindedly. “No they won’t. And I’ll be on Facetime so much it’ll be like I never left.”

Buck ducks his head but nods anyway, gathering up the courage to say what he wants to say next. “I know you have to go,” he starts, steeling himself as he makes himself meet Eddie’s gaze. “But please don’t go forever.”

Eddie’s expression blanks, his mouth parting over nothing. Buck can only stare back, hoping that just this once it might be different. That he won’t get a, ‘Take care of yourself, Buck,’ and a hand to the cheek before the person in front of him disappears forever.

Eddie doesn’t touch his cheek. Instead he presses their foreheads together hard enough to hurt, hard enough to make Buck’s breath catch and rush out of him on a shaky exhale.

“I won’t. I promise,” Eddie breathes and his hand moves from Buck’s neck to the back of Buck’s head and Buck can’t help wondering for a moment what would happen if he closed the distance between them. If Eddie would kiss him back.

It’s not a thought he’s ever entertained before but he’s thinking it now and it feels…like it makes sense. Like an inevitability.

And what a time to have a realisation like that.

Eddie leans back then and Buck forces himself to unclench his hands, attempting to smooth out the back of Eddie’s jacket with trembling hands.

“You should go,” he says because Eddie won’t.

Eddie nods faintly in agreement and it looks like it takes every ounce of effort for him to take a step back. Buck picks up his bag for him, offers it to him, and tries for a weak smile so Eddie will know it’s okay. That he can go and Buck won’t cause a scene.

“I’ll call you as soon as I get to my parents place.”

Buck nods. “Give Chris a hug for me.”

“I will.”

Eddie starts looking towards the security line again and Buck blurts out, “Tell him I love him.”

Eddie looks back to him, a devastating smile of understanding on his face. “He knows already. But I will.”

Buck nods again and then there’s nothing left to say. Eddie turns to go and Buck does the same because he can’t watch until he’s out of sight. It hurts too much already and he can barely hold his tears back as it is.

He doesn’t need to watch himself get left behind again.

~

He’s just unlocking his car when his phone rings. He doesn’t check who it is as he climbs in, just shoves the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he reaches for his seatbelt.

“Keep me company while I wait for my flight?”

He straightens so quickly the phone almost falls into his lap but he catches it just in time. And he tries to laugh but he thinks it might come out more like a sob. “Keep me company on the drive home?”

“Always,” Eddie says like they’re driving home from work after a long shift.

Buck switches his phone to speaker mode and looks down at the keys in his hand, at the keys to the loft, Maddie’s place and Eddie’s house respectively, considering his options before turning on the ignition.

“So there’s the guy at the gate-“ Eddie starts and Buck lets the sound of his voice wash over him. Allows himself just one singular moment where he closes his eyes and holds his hand to his chest before he pulls himself together and drives out of his space.

Eddie is offering him a play by play of the guy at the gate who’s insisting his luggage is not chirping and Buck gets his breath back enough to make a quip about how that made it through the security scanner.

When he reaches the freeway it takes hardly any thought at all for him to take the exit that’ll get him to the Diaz house fastest.

He’s going home after all.

~

[magical-reid]

The Rings We Keep Part 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!FBI!Reader

Genre: fluff

Content warnings: none

Word count: 2.2K

Part 1

Two months had passed since the case ended, your team was spending more and more time assisting the BAU with their cases, and you were still adjusting to being known as Mrs. Reid. The BAU’s teasing had mostly subsided, but Penelope couldn’t help herself, sending you daily texts with variations of “How’s married life treating you, sugarplum?”

Spencer, of course, was blissfully oblivious to half the jokes. You envied his ability to compartmentalize. For you, the line between personal and professional felt increasingly blurred—especially when you came home to find him sitting on your couch, flipping through one of your dog-eared mystery novels like he belonged there.

“Hey,” you greeted, setting your go-bag on the floor.

“Hey,” he replied without looking up. “Your landlord called earlier. The leak in your bathroom should be fixed tomorrow.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, thanks?”

Spencer finally glanced up, his expression innocent. “It’s easier if they call me. You don’t always answer your phone.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Easier, huh?”

He shrugged. “Legally, I’m your emergency contact. Makes sense.”

Your chest tightened a mix of irritation and something warmer that you weren’t ready to name. Spencer had a way of making the most unconventional things seem logical—like casually fixing your plumbing situation as if it were just another bullet point on his to-do list.

You crossed the room, plopping onto the couch beside him. “You know this is weird, right?”

“What is?”

“This,” you gestured between the two of you. “Being married but… not married.”

Spencer tilted his head, considering your words. “It’s unconventional, sure. But it’s not weird. We work well together.”

“That’s not exactly the foundation of a marriage,” you pointed out, though your tone lacked bite. “Shouldn’t we—I don’t know—try to figure out what this actually is?”

Spencer’s brow furrowed. “You mean, like dating?”

The word hung in the air between you, heavy and full of possibility.

“Maybe,” you said, feeling your cheeks warm. “I mean, it might help. Get to know each other outside of work. Outside of… whatever this is.”

Spencer nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. “That’s logical. We could schedule something.”

“Schedule?” You laughed, the sound half nervous, half amused. “Spence, you don’t schedule a date. You just… go.”

His lips quirked in a small, sheepish smile. “Right. Of course.”

The First Date

Three days later, you found yourself sitting across from Spencer at a cozy little café near the library. He’d insisted on picking the place, and you hadn’t protested—it was quiet, intimate, and felt like him.

“I, um, wasn’t sure what you liked, so I ordered a variety,” Spencer said, gesturing to the spread of pastries between you. “There’s a 73% chance one of these is your favorite.”

You bit back a smile, reaching for a chocolate croissant. “Good guess.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly, and you realized he’d been nervous—an unusual look for someone so confident in every other aspect of his life.

“So,” you began, tearing off a piece of croissant. “Do we talk about work, or is that off-limits?”

Spencer shook his head. “It’s not off-limits, but we could talk about other things. Like… hobbies.”

“Hobbies,” you repeated, amused. “You mean like your extensive knowledge of obscure trivia?”

“Or your knack for solving puzzles,” he countered, a rare teasing tone in his voice.

You laughed, the sound drawing a faint smile from him. For the first time, the awkwardness began to fade, replaced by something warmer—something that felt almost like normalcy.

Navigating New Territory

Over the next few weeks, your dynamic shifted in subtle but undeniable ways. Spencer started leaving his favorite books on your nightstand, claiming they were “better than the ones you usually read.” You, in turn, introduced him to your guilty pleasure TV shows, relishing the way he tried (and failed) to resist getting invested in the drama.

But it wasn’t all smooth sailing.

One evening, as you cooked dinner together—a rare occurrence, considering your busy schedules—Spencer reached for the salt just as you turned to grab a spoon. The collision was minor, but it left you both frozen, faces inches apart.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, stepping back quickly.

Spencer’s cheeks flushed. “No, it was my fault.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken tension. You busied yourself stirring the sauce, your mind racing. Was this what it felt like to be in a real marriage? The constant push and pull of closeness and uncertainty?

“I’ve been reading about communication in relationships,” Spencer said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

You raised an eyebrow. “Of course you have.”

“It says physical proximity is important,” he continued, his tone serious. “Small gestures, like holding hands, can build intimacy.”

You stared at him, torn between exasperation and affection. “Spence, are you saying we should hold hands more?”

He nodded, his expression earnest. “It might help.”

You sighed, setting down the spoon. “Alright. Let’s try it.”

Tentatively, you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers together. His skin was warm, his grip firm but careful.

“How’s this?” you asked, half-joking.

Spencer’s gaze met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you.

“Good,” he said softly. “It’s… good.”

A Step Forward

One night, after a particularly grueling case, you found yourself leaning against Spencer on the couch, too tired to care about boundaries. His arm was draped around your shoulders, and you realized with a start that it felt… nice. Comforting.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low.

“Yeah,” you murmured, closing your eyes. “Just tired.”

He didn’t move, didn’t press for more. Instead, he simply held you, his presence steady and reassuring.

In that moment, you realized something had shifted—not just between you, but within you. This wasn’t just a marriage of convenience anymore. It was becoming something real, something worth fighting for.

And as you drifted off to sleep, Spencer’s voice echoed softly in your mind.

“I’ve got you.”

You believed him.

The Unspoken Shift

It was late one night when the shift finally happened when everything you and Spencer had been tiptoeing around finally came to a head. The case had been grueling—intense, dangerous—but in the end, the team had solved it. The adrenaline had faded, leaving an unfamiliar silence in its wake.

You were sitting on the couch in your small apartment, your mind still racing from the day’s events. You’d barely had time to think about anything beyond work in the past few weeks, but now, with the threat neutralized, everything came rushing back.

Spencer, on the other hand, seemed completely unaffected by the chaos. He was curled up in the armchair across from you, his laptop open in front of him, but his eyes weren’t on the screen. He kept glancing over at you, his face unreadable, as if there was something he wanted to say but didn’t know how to say it.

It was in moments like this that you found yourself wondering what this was between you—this odd marriage of convenience that had slowly morphed into something you couldn’t quite define.

We work well together, Spencer had said once, so casually that it hadn’t quite clicked at the time. Now, though, as you caught him looking at you again—this time with a sort of tenderness that made your heart skip a beat—you wondered if he meant more than just work.

You shifted on the couch, trying to distract yourself. You couldn’t allow yourself to think too deeply, not with everything that was still unresolved. But Spencer’s voice cut through the silence.

"Y/N, I... I think I need to apologize."

You froze, unsure if you had heard him correctly. "Apologize? For what?"

He hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keys of his laptop, but he didn’t look at the screen. Instead, his gaze lingered on you, serious and a little vulnerable. "For... for how distant I’ve been. I know I’ve been focused on the cases and... well, on myself too much." His lips tightened, as if he regretted the words before they even left his mouth. "I’ve been pushing you away without even realizing it. And I’m sorry."

You blinked, taken aback by his honesty. Spencer was never one to admit when he was wrong. He was always so logical, so composed. But tonight, something was different. There was a rawness in his voice that made your chest tighten, and you realized with a jolt that maybe you had been pushing him away too.

"You haven’t been distant, Spence," you said softly. "You’ve just been... you." The words felt heavier than you intended, but it was the truth. Spencer had always been focused, and driven, and even when he was there, he seemed so far away, locked in his own world.

"I know," he said, his voice low. "But that’s not an excuse. I—I should have been there more for you. You’ve been doing this alone, and that’s not fair."

You stared at him, processing what he had just said. Spencer Reid, always so sure of his intelligence and his work, was admitting—without words—that he wasn’t sure how to be a partner in this unconventional marriage. And as much as you wanted to brush it off, you couldn’t. You had been struggling with the same doubts.

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” you said quietly, motioning between the two of you. “This whole… marriage thing. It’s not what I expected, either. But that doesn’t mean I’m not trying.”

Spencer’s eyes softened, his expression vulnerable in a way you’d never seen before. “I know you are,” he said. “And that’s why I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t know what this is, but... I don’t want to lose it.”

There was a long pause as you both let the words settle. You felt the weight of everything that had been building up—the awkward moments, the shared glances, the near-kisses that you’d both avoided. But in that moment, you realized something: you didn’t want to keep avoiding it.

“I don’t want to lose it either,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Spencer inhaled deeply, his hand moving hesitantly toward yours. When his fingers brushed against yours, your pulse quickened. The touch was gentle, uncertain—but it felt like a promise, one you hadn’t even realized you were waiting for. The space between you seemed to shrink as if the universe itself was holding its breath.

"I think I—" Spencer started, but the words hung in the air, unspoken, because neither of you could say them aloud just yet. Instead, you reached for him.

You moved slowly, carefully, but when your lips met his, it wasn’t cautious. It wasn’t calculated. It was everything that had been building between you for the past two months. It was vulnerability and longing and the quiet admission that you couldn’t keep pretending anymore.

His lips were warm, soft, and he didn’t pull away, as if he was afraid you might disappear if he did. The kiss was tentative at first, but it deepened as you both leaned into it, the world around you fading until it was just the two of you. And for the first time in weeks, maybe months, you felt right. Not because the kiss had solved everything, but because in that moment, you finally felt seen.

When you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, both of you breathing heavily. Spencer’s hands were still lightly touching your arms, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them, but you didn’t want him to move. You didn’t want to break this moment of rawness between you.

“I... I’ve wanted that for a while,” Spencer said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, your heart racing. “I think I have too.”

For a moment, you simply stayed there, sitting together, breathing in the same air. You didn’t need to talk, didn’t need to say anything more. Everything had shifted, in a way that felt both terrifying and liberating at the same time.

You were no longer just coworkers. You weren’t just a married couple in name. In that kiss, you had taken the first step into something more. Something real.

And for the first time, you believed Spencer when he said he didn’t want to lose this.

The Quiet Moments After

The days after your first kiss were a mix of confusion and excitement. There was still tension between the work you did and the lives you were building together, but somehow it felt more manageable now. You and Spencer began finding ways to open up to each other—slowly, carefully, but with more and more honesty.

You would catch Spencer looking at you with that same soft expression as if he was still trying to figure out the person sitting beside him, but there was no hesitation anymore. No pulling away.

He didn’t say much, but his actions spoke volumes. Whether it was bringing you your favorite coffee when he knew you were having a rough day or simply sitting beside you on the couch, his presence had started to mean more. And with each passing moment, each new shared experience, you felt your connection deepening.

Maybe this wasn’t the marriage you had expected. But maybe, just maybe, it was the one you needed.

[extinctlesspains]

Your Kwin fics are amazing! Can I request one where he and the reader and both part of Cobra Kai and have been dating for years and one of the guys from Miyagi-Do develops a crush on the reader at the Sekai Taikai and tries to hit on her making Kwon mad and he fights him?

𝑂𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒: 𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛 𝐽𝑎𝑒-𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑔

𝐵𝑦 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠

»»——⍟——««

»»——⍟——««

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛 𝐽𝑎𝑒-𝑆𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓��𝑟 𝑎 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑒𝑘𝑎𝑖 𝑇𝑎𝑖𝑘𝑎𝑖 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑏𝑦 𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑎 𝑏𝑜𝑦 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑀𝑖𝑦𝑎𝑔𝑖 𝑑𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢?

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠:𝑓𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑝𝑒𝑡 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑠, 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑌/𝑛, 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔.

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

You and Kwon had been through everything together—years of training, fighting side by side, and, most importantly, building something lasting. There was no denying that you both came from different worlds. You were raised on the values of Cobra Kai: strength, discipline, and an unyielding sense of competition. Kwon, though, was different. He embodied Cobra Kai's fierce loyalty, but there was something more about him—something that made him a perfect fit for you. You’d both been through the toughest of times, and yet, here you were, together, stronger than ever.

The Sekai Taikai tournament was upon you, the stakes higher than they’d ever been before. Cobra Kai was going to represent South Korea on the global stage, and you were determined to show the world what true Cobra Kai strength looked like. Kwon was by your side, as always, but there was something about this tournament that felt different. With all the rivalries brewing, you could feel the tension in the air.

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

The competition was fierce, and you were in the middle of preparing for your next round when you caught sight of him. It was one of the Miyagi-Do guys—Demetri. He had always been quiet and reserved, like most of the Miyagi-Do students, but there was something different about him now. He was hanging around the dojo area, his eyes constantly flicking over to you.

You tried to ignore it at first, chalking it up to nerves before a big match. But then, the more you saw him, the more you noticed how often he lingered near you during practice. You’d catch his gaze more than once, and every time you looked back at him, his eyes seemed to brighten.

"Hey, Y/N," Demetri said one evening, pulling you out of your thoughts as you were stretching by the sidelines. "I wanted to ask you something."

You glanced up, surprised by his sudden approach. "Yeah? What’s up?"

He scratched the back of his neck nervously, clearly not as confident as his words suggested. "I... I think you're incredible. You’ve been killing it in the tournament, and... well, I’ve been watching you for a while now." He hesitated. "I wanted to know if you wanted to grab a drink or something after the match. You know, just to talk. I think we could really get along."

You blinked, unsure of how to respond. You hadn’t expected this at all—especially not from someone from Miyagi-Do. You opened your mouth to say something, but then, you felt it—a presence behind you.

Kwon had appeared without a sound, his eyes dark and intense as he looked from you to Demetri. His jaw tightened.

“You should be careful who you talk to,” Kwon said, his voice cool but edged with something that made Demetri stiffen.

Demetri blinked, caught off guard. “I was just—”

“I heard you,” Kwon interrupted. His gaze never left Demetri. “My girlfriend’s not interested. And if you’re looking to get a drink, maybe you should try one of your own Miyagi-Do buddies.”

You felt the tension between them instantly. Demetri took a step back, clearly rattled by Kwon's cold, controlled demeanor. But Kwon wasn’t finished. He looked at you with that protective intensity you knew so well. “You good?” he asked, his voice softer now, but the possessiveness in his tone was unmistakable.

You nodded, feeling a little uncomfortable with the sudden tension. “I’m fine, Kwon.”

But Demetri wasn’t backing down so easily. “I don’t think you have to act like that,” he said to Kwon, his voice rising with a hint of challenge. “It’s just a drink. I don’t think your girlfriend needs to be controlled like that.”

Kwon’s eyes narrowed, his fists clenching at his sides. "You’re making a mistake," he said in a low growl. "Keep it up, and we’ll see how well your Miyagi-Do values hold up in a fight."

Demetri’s eyes widened, but there was no turning back now. He stepped forward, chest puffed out. "I’m not scared of you."

Kwon’s lips curled into a tight, dangerous smile. “You should be."

Before you could even step in to calm things down, Kwon lunged forward, pushing Demetri back into the side of the ring, knocking over a few of the training dummies in the process. The noise was deafening as Kwon's fists landed with precision. Demetri tried to counter, but Kwon was relentless—moving with an ease that only years of Cobra Kai training could give.

"Kwon, stop!" you shouted, rushing to intervene, but Kwon wasn’t listening. Demetri was on the ground now, trying to catch his breath.

"You don’t talk to my girl," Kwon said, his voice cold and filled with fury as he stood over Demetri. "Got it?"

Demetri nodded, his face pale as he struggled to stand up. Kwon didn’t let him. “I said, got it?”

"Yeah, yeah. Got it," Demetri stammered, looking terrified.

Kwon stepped back, his body tense and ready for anything. “Good,” he muttered, turning to you with an unreadable expression on his face.

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

Later that evening, you found Kwon in the corner of the Cobra Kai dojo, wiping his hands with a towel. His face was hard, but you could see the remnants of anger still burning in his eyes. You walked up to him, placing a hand on his arm.

“Kwon...” you started, unsure of how to even begin the conversation. “You didn’t have to do that. I could’ve handled it.”

Kwon’s gaze softened, just a little. He turned to face you, his eyes still intense but now filled with concern. “I know you could’ve handled it. But I don’t want anyone thinking they can come near you. Especially not him.”

You sighed, stepping closer. "He’s from Miyagi-Do. He didn’t know better."

“I don’t care,” Kwon muttered. "When it comes to you, no one gets to disrespect you like that. Not even him."

You placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat under your palm. "I’m not going anywhere, Kwon. I’m with you."

He looked down at you, his gaze softening, though there was still a protective fire in his eyes. “I don’t care if it's Miyagi-Do, Cobra Kai, or whoever. As long as you’re mine, no one else gets a chance.”

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with affection. "I’m yours, Kwon. Always."

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

The next day, as you both prepared for the next round of the Sekai Taikai tournament, you couldn’t help but feel the shift. Kwon’s protective instincts had always been there, but now you knew just how far he’d go to keep you safe.

You shared a moment before the match, standing side by side, preparing yourself mentally for the challenge ahead. "You ready?" Kwon asked, his eyes locking with yours.

You nodded, confidence surging through you. "With you by my side? Always."

The tournament raged on, but no matter what happened next, you knew one thing for sure—nothing could break the bond you had with Kwon. Not a Miyagi-Do crush, not any competition. The fire between you two was unbreakable.

And that, you knew, was the ultimate strength.

The Sekai Taikai tournament would eventually come to a close, but the fire between you and Kwon would never extinguish. You had your ups and downs, but through every fight—whether on the mat or in your relationship—you knew you’d always have each other’s backs. And in the world of Cobra Kai, that was the only thing that truly mattered.

[dreamsofmoney]

-> L&DS Men as catboys ! x reader - Headcanons

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹. ฅ^.ᆺ.^ฅ

―୨୧⋆ ˚. Inspired from the current in-game event obviously, a bunch of headcanons imagining what it's like for you to leave everyday with them as catboys.

SFW, gn! Reader, very fluffy, cute and domestic, lots of comfort, just talking about what kind of cat they are, what personality they have, their habits and hobbies, their relationship with reader etc. Just a little CW for Sylus's part where I talk about dead animals and his sadistic tendencies, because it's Sylus after all.

ฅ≽^•⩊•^≼ฅ 𓆝 ✮彡🐾~ enter ! ~🐾✮彡 𓆞 ฅ^>⩊<^ฅ

XAVIER ᡣ𐭩

• Not much of a surprise if I tell you that catboy Xavier is the most chill and sleepy cat ever.

• He sleeps for around 12 to 15 hours a day, and 12 hours is really the minimum, otherwise he gets grumpy.

• I imagine him to be either a British shorthair or a Ragdoll. Probably more of a Ragdoll because of his blue eyes and how chill he is, but the roundness of a British shorthair also fits him in my opinion. You can carry a Ragdoll, lift it up, move it around and yet the cat stays very relaxed most of the time. I think Xavier is similar in that sense, he doesn't really budge no matter what you do. You can poke him, pet him, scratch him, cup his face, give him belly rubs, annoy him by breathing on his ears, yap for hours next to him and he has to listen to you, carry him around whatever you want, and he won't say much, he'll be as limp as a mop.

• Cat Xavier considers you as the only person with whom he feels fully comfortable. There's nobody else but you to make him feel safe enough to put his guard down and relinquish his wary personality.

• Therefore, for cat Xavier, as long as he can spend time next to you, safe and sound in the comfort of your warm mutual home and safe place, the rest does not matter much.

• So he is very easy-going with pretty much anything. However, as much as he is compliant and he never complains, that does not mean he won't hold a grudge against you for what you have done. Cat Xavier, just like any cat, has his limits, the only difference is that he is more tolerant with your bullshit than most cats.

• But he'll let you know when he is upset at you because you either went too far, you bothered him a little too much or he was missing you too much because you were away for too long. He's not very mean, he just gets very pouty and he sulks in his little corner, ignoring you for a while. (like 10 minutes lol) Sometimes he can gently tease with humour about you doing something wrong, but he'll always accept your apologies and he'll forgive you.

• Cat Xavier has a preference for the particularly warmest places of the house, which are sometimes a little strange. It goes from his little cushion/bed, to the pile of pillows and plushies, then to the closet with your clothes inside, literally on top of the freakin' radiator, inside the washing machine's drum, and finally ; and most importantly, your belly <3.

• Cat Xavier absolutely loves sleeping on your belly, or just sleeping on any body parts of yours in general, or even just laying there putting half of his weight on top of you for no reason other than appreciating the warmth of your body. In his daily life, it's very important for him to constantly have physical contact with you, it could be just a light brushing of his tail around your body, or a well-deserved pat on the head, a little rub on your arm or leg, or better : his very favorite scratches around his ears.

• He's not a loud cat at all, very quiet and rarely ever makes noise except for purring. The only downside is that sometimes when you call him and he doesn't answer because he is sleeping or quietly focused on his activity, then you have to search for him everywhere around the house, while imagining the worst case scenarios. It's very stressful.

• His favorite hobbies include napping, getting pets and scratches around his ears from you, playing video games and board games, reading, eating fried chicken, finding new napping spots around the house, cuddling on the couch with you, and bathing. He is definitely an only indoor cat, I believe. Rarely, he accepts going outside with you for a stroll at a calm park or to do some grocery shopping.

• Yes! Catboy Xavier likes bathing! He is one of those rare cats who actually appreciates being washed with warm water. He likes swimming in it too, as long as it's very warm.

• When it comes to what he doesn't like ; Xavier despises getting his claws trimmed, being cold and coming in contact with cold stuff, rain, you being away for multiple days, and being brushed.

• But you absolutely have to brush him or else your home would be covered with white fur everywhere. His fur is quite thick and fluffy and he sheds a lot. He knows that well, so he'll stay patient and won't complain, but deep inside he really wants to escape the brush.

• Cat Xavier is a very obedient cat, he can be just a bit reluctant to do certain things when he doesn't appreciate them or when he feels very lazy (just like anyone). But he won't be stubborn about it and eventually he'll give in.

• He is a little bit of a glutton, you have to hide away some food or else he'll eat almost everything and then he will have a stomach ache, whining about the consequences of his own actions. Secretly, he does try to steal some food from time to time by avoiding your surveillance and unfortunately for you, it works.

• Cat Xavier is not a mischievous cat tho, he doesn't play tricks or tries to mess things up, in fact he is so wise and well-behaved that he even learned to scratch his nails on nothing else but the cat tree you got him ; so your furniture was absolutely never damaged.

• Cat Xavier is usually a very lazy cat who doesn't push himself to hard when it comes to tasks. However, he does like to take care of your home and to partake in some little domestic activities alongside you, such as doing the laundry and changing the bedsheets after cleaning them ; even if he's not the most dutiful, he is willing to accomplish those things if it means making you proud of him.

• For example, a nice attention of his is to do little tasks around the house while you're not there or while you are resting, in hopes that you'll praise him or that you'll reward him later. Like watering the plants or picking up the trash.

• And that's it, don't expect him to do more than that. Catboy Xavier is too lazy to do something that requires too much effort, either mental or physical.

• Instead, what you can expect out of him everyday is his ability to monopolize the sofa and keep it warm by doing so. Reaching his arms to you with open hands, demanding a cuddle or a pet out of you, you don't know which exactly, but you just gotta approach him a little bit and you'll know soon enough when he'll lock you in his embrace and he'll nuzzle his face against you.

• Catboy Xavier looks up at you, with no words out of his mouth you can still identify this typical naive pleading look of his ; the one that says "please, give me your affection too".

• Basically, Xavier as a catboy is a very quiet, well-behaved, cuddly and clingy companion, who appreciates nothing more and nothing less, than the domesticity of indoor activities and the comforting warmth of your presence.

≽ܫ≼ ⋆˚🐾˖°

ZAYNE ᡣ𐭩

• Catboy Zayne is, as expected, a very calm pet and a good caretaker of your home, one who rarely ever complains and who does his work dutifully.

• Catboy Xavier is like a true perfect butler who takes care of everything. Or maybe more like a maide actually. He takes care of all the tasks around the house ; cleaning, sweeping, cooking, ironing, washing, folding, refreshing, repairing, doing the laundry, collecting the trash, making the bed etc. He takes care of your garden too, gets rid of the weeds, gives a cut to your plants after watering them. He also manages your paperwork and your schedule (such as your taxes). And of course he takes care of you and your health, helping you relax when you need to, advising you proper medication and sometimes provides a massage as a supplement. He's basically an excellent handyman, the perfect man you could imagine, always ready to be at your service, and not because he is forced to but because he genuinely believes it is his obligation. Catboy Zayne loves to take care of everything for you; for him it is a synonym of taking care of you too.

• Therefore, it's very comforting to live alongside him when all the sheets and clothes smell fresh and clean, every room is perfectly dusted and neatly organized, the flowers are beautiful and lively, the meals are delicious and nutritious, and a cat is there to greet you every morning when you wake up and every night when you come back home.

• Although, what you don't know, is that housework isn't only the way for him to take care of you, it is also his way to indulge in his obsession with you. Cat Zayne is obsessed with your scent and he loves holding on to everything that belongs to you ; so much so that doing housework becomes a pretense for him to indulge in his guilty pleasure.

• Every time he grasps in his hands an object you own, he feels content with the idea that he is sharing it with you, that everything which is yours is now also his, that everything you have touched is linked to him when he touches them. Sometimes he even keeps a few insignificant trinkets that he puts in a little box, dedicated to your items. Every time he is folding your clothes, he inhales a few of them, feeling satisfied with how good his owner smells. He previously questioned himself if what he was doing was perverted and wrong, but he estimated that it was not since he has no sexual interest in it. And it might be a little dirty and weird, but truly, he is just merely enjoying your scent because he loves you and misses you so much while he works, nothing more and nothing less.

• As you would expect he never ever tells you about all of this, and somehow you never really notice his strange behavior. He isn't ashamed of the passion he has for you, but he is a little scared you might take your distance with him after knowing about it while he kept it as a secret for so long. Moreover, he is terrified that you'll consider him a bad and unruly pet.

• His slight obsessiveness also translates into him watching over you constantly when you don't notice it, particularly when you have your back turned away from him. Cat Zayne is constantly surveiling you and that is also his own way of taking care of you ; he could be behind the corner of your bedroom's door without you knowing and looking at you discreetly because he doesn't want to disturb you, he could be looking at you through the window while you enjoy some time in the garden, or he could be silently watching over you when you are working, passing behind you multiple times to observe what you do with curiosity and to admire your figure. It might seem really creepy but it isn't (please believe me). Catboy Zayne observes you a lot but not in a controlling manner, it's more of a constant admiration and curiosity towards you. Think of those cats who follow you when you go to the toilets for example, it is strange but it's usually out of care and appreciation. Similarly, cat Zayne appreciates watching you from afar, because he knows most of the time he's too busy and shy to get closer to you.

• He watches you so often, that he developed a certain skill to know in advance what you are going to do and what you are going to say sometimes. For example, he is quick to catch a glass or a mug you accidentally knocked, based on your position and his prediction of your next movements, as you angrily tell him what your boss did today. Or he warns you when you are about to bump your head onto the door-frame as he puts his hand over it. Or he can also complete some of your sentences when you converse with him.

• In general, cat Zayne is very quick to react and possesses good reflexes. Probably the most skilled out of all the catboys.

• In all logic, he is also very meticulous, which goes along with his responsibilities and his carefulness around you.

• Catboy Zayne has a certain degree of obsession with order and perfection ; if your home would be a mess, he would never forgive himself, as he considers it his duty to take care of the safe and harmonious place for your well-being.

• You tend to worry about his own well-being when you witness him working so much, so you try to help him to relieve him of his workload. Zayne appreciates the gesture, but he still insists on putting you aside so that you can let him take the matters in his hands.

• Instead, you suggest him to take some time off more often, and encourage him to develop his hobbies in his free-time.

• Catboy Zayne rarely allows himself to take breaks, but with time he does start to develop certain hobbies (outside of the obsessive ones), supported by the enthusiasm of your encouragement. As a result, he started to read more often, to play chess, to play with a few feathery toys you bought him, to listen to music, to run outside, to contemplate the birds and the shining sun by the window, and most importantly, he takes advantage of this precious time to stay glued to you.

• As much as he is shy and discreet around you, catboy Zayne is most definitely a very cuddly cat who loves being held in your arms. Most definitely a Main coon in my opinion, and I cannot imagine him as any other breed other than this one. Main coons are known to be giant cats with a very long and thick fur, big pointy ears, as well as a very big fluffy tail too. Paradoxical to their size and their fit body, they're usually not very courageous and physically strong cats, nor do they have a particular inclination to outdoor activities. Instead, they prefer living a comfortable life without too much physical effort, just enough to explore a little and satisfy their curiosity, while they enjoy their leisurely activities at home most of the time. They are also very cuddly and affectionate, they love to have lazy cuddle sessions. Thus, I believe catboy Zayne would be more similar to this breed both physically and in terms of personality.

• So typically like a Main coon, cat Zayne is very cuddly and he is definitely not a courageous cat outdoors. He doesn't hunt, he only goes out when it's sunny and when he's not too busy, and he would much rather stay inside with you to continue observing you.

• Since he doesn't have a lot of time off, you can be sure he'll be really clingy when he has the opportunity to do so. It's his most favorite activity, to just lay with you and cuddle in bed or on the couch, or really just anywhere in the house. He also wants to be held and picked up but it can be a little difficult considering his size and weight. He can be a little suffocating, because he constantly lays on top of you when you sleep and rubs himself on you to smell you and leave his scent above, which are signs of great possessiveness over you. But if you tell him to stop, he will. Cat Zayne wants to be the most obedient cat in all circumstances.

• Actually, at any of your orders cat Zayne will listen and execute those orders of yours immediately. He doesn't listen to anybody else, only you. Not that he meets a lot of people anyway, since he prefers to stay at home during 90% of his time, but even if he would, he'd feel very uneasy around new people.

• I guess he is sort of a "scaredy cat", if you could call him like that. He is scared of strangers and gets easily startled by sudden movements or by very loud noises, it makes him wince and cover his ears because of his highly sensitive hearing.

• Catboy Zayne dislikes anything which disturbs his tranquility. Meaning : sudden or brutal movements like a door closed by the wind, loud noises like the honking of cars, when he cannot get his work properly done, when it is stormy outside, thunderstorms, dogs barking, and the absolute worst being strangers coming over to your house.

• When a stranger invades your home, he hides pathetically in a closet or under your bed, far away from the menace, and he only comes out once it goes away.

• To make up for the mental disturbance of this event, Catboy Zayne tends to come over to you, and it's one of those rare times when he allows himself to be visibly vulnerable around you, by asking you to comfort him. Sometimes he doesn't even say it verbally, he just silently approaches you, and after so much time spent living alongside him, you can already guess he is feeling unwell by just looking at his expression, and you know exactly what to do.

• The only thing which could revitalize him is you and your cuddles, and the only other thing which could do the same is : salmon. Salmon being cat Zayne's favorite meal and you being aware about it, you decide to cook for him a big juicy piece of salmon.

• It's probably more than just the salmon that he finds comforting ; it is the fact that you act so patiently and you take your time to cook for him, it is the special and meticulous attention of yours to make it the most delicious meal, it is the kindness and altruism of your action. Basically, it is the fact that he witnesses you being good, amazing even, at taking care of him, at imitating the way he usually acts ; while you are supposed to be the one that he serves. Zayne is reminded that, as him being your pet and as you being his owner, the roles should be reversed from time to time, and he can definitely count on you to be a good caretaker for him.

• Zayne as a catboy is an obedient and attentive pet, one who perfectly accomplishes his obligations and who greatly takes care of his owner, because he immensely cherishes them. But in reality, he is a gentle giant who needs a lot of comfort and care too.

≽ܫ≼ ⋆˚🐾˖°

RAFAYEL ᡣ𐭩

• Catboy Rafayel is a very playful and active kind of cat. Probably one the most energetic cats out of them all.

• He is a goofball, he likes to play with various things such as : toys, furniture that he can scratch, your hair, your hands, your legs, a bunch of random trinkets you buy that he likes to push to the edge until it drops to the ground.

• He is playful but he is not a meanie, therefore he won't purposely play with something which is too valuable to you or something which looks too fragile to be played with, at the risk of breaking it. And catboy Rafayel is a very witty cat with good observation skills, and an excellent capacity at understanding his surroundings to easily identify exactly those objects.

• However, occasionally they do break. Rafayel immediately apologizes and begs for forgiveness, teary eyed and feeling guilty for overestimating his judgment capacities. You, of course, forgive him ; no little trinket is more important than your precious kitty.

• His playfulness also consists of him teasing you a little bit. Again, not in a mean way, but just enough to catch your attention. For example, he'll brush his tail under your nose, he'll rub himself all over you, he will run around your legs for no reason, he'll lightly push his claws inside your arm, not enough to hurt you but enough to mark it with punctured dots. Or he will call you ridiculous nicknames that only he finds funny.

• In general, cat Rafayel is a harmless being, he could never hurt you or any living thing, not even a fly. He knows how to use his fangs and claws if he really feels in danger, just like any adult cat, but he tends to be naive and wimpy. Therefore he's not really alert enough to raise his guard fast enough in some situations, and you have to intervene to protect him instead. The advantage is that when he grabs your arm or leg, bites it and scratches it like a madman, it doesn't hurt at all, it's like those kittens who try to act fiercely.

• Cat Rafayel is definitely more of an outdoor cat. Home for him is the place where he knows he can always return safely to. Home is the place where he can sleep, eat, leisurely rest, and selfishly enjoy all of your attention all for himself. He requires it almost constantly and orders you around for things he wants. Which doesn't mean you necessarily indulge in his requests, but he'll continue to meow, whine and act needy in hopes you accept, until eventually he gives up, and just an hour later he'll already forget about it.

• Cat Rafayel being essentially an outdoor cat means he loves exploring nature, laying in the grass, sunbathing, and hunting. Now, he's not a very good hunter, but nothing makes him prouder than bringing you an object he found (like a little trinket to make himself forgiven) or a little prey he caught between his claws. It's usually a small lizard or a baby mouse. Birds are too fast for him. He never kills them because he feels too bad about it, so he only brings it to you and then releases the poor creature. One time, he brought you a big rat, his biggest catch, then you had to eradicate it from your place and it took a whole week...

• Ah also, he is surprisingly a very good swimmer who's not afraid of the water at all. The bath isn't his favorite thing but he tolerates it since it helps him to be clean, and ironically, later on you see him literally swimming in the lake nearby.

• Indoors, he likes painting of course, crafting little gifts for you, sleeping with you when he comes back home, playing with you, fetch the ball and bring it back to you, watching movies and series, as well as wild life documentaries, especially the ones about fish and other oceanic species.

• Noticing his interest in this very specific topic, you decide to buy him an aquarium full of little fishies, specifically made out for little kitties like him to put their paws in from the top, catch a fish and eat it. However, cat Rafayel only plays with them and stays there watching them for hours on end.

• It turns out he categorically refuses to eat fish. How strange... He's quite a picky eater of a cat. Instead, he only accepts eating other kinds of meat, especially turkey meat being his favorite. He's also addicted to these little cat treats you give him after you play with him or after learning him a trick.

• Other things he dislikes are : getting dirty outside, staining his fur with paint, being bored and not entertained enough, breaking something or making a mistake you warned him not to do, when you don't play with him, when you don't pay attention to him, when you leave him alone at home.

• Catboy Rafayel hates staying at home alone so much, that he even begs to follow you when you leave the house, pretending he does it to protect you (even if you just go out for a 5 min walk). Accompanying you wherever you go is also one of his favorite things.

• You just have to understand that, Rafayel essentially lives for your attention and your care for him, he craves it all the time and if he doesn't get it, suddenly the walls of your house feel immensely suffocating.

• I think cat Rafayel is most similar to a Somali cat. It's a breed of cat with thin and long fur, large ears and a very fluffy tail ; a type of cat which is very energetic and lively, hence the need to go outside and to be regularly entertained with games. But most importantly, it is a breed of cat that is very VERY possessive of their owner ; as much as they like to have their independence, they value their owner more than anything and cannot stand being on their own for a long time. Similarly, cat Rafayel values your presence a lot and he doesn't know what to do anymore without you.

• He's not the most physically affectionate cat ; he accepts everything and he does like it when you pet him, hug him and give him little pecks since it shows him you pay attention to him, but he doesn't require it all the time, and he doesn't like when the petting sessions take too long, otherwise he gets bored. His favorite spot to be pet is around his neck.

• Catboy Rafayel is a very intelligent and observant cat I believe, he can easily discern when you are feeling unwell, either sad or mad or tired ; whatever it is, he can make out your emotions even if you don't verbally tell him.

• Therefore, catboy Rafayel is very good at comforting you, always in a very gentle way. He doesn't need you to tell him what happened if you don't want to, without that he can still wrap his body around you, embrace your figure and softly pat your head, with an additional kiss on your forehead if he has to wipe away your tears. And if you need to let it all out, of course he is also all ears for you, he can quietly sit while listening to you for as long as you need ; after all, if you're not feeling well enough, then he doesn't have anybody to play with.

• I think he'd lift up your spirits by bringing you to a nice spot outside, to have some fresh air and change your mind with something else, like seeing fireworks or going to the beach, or play with snow if it's winter, or jumping into puddles after the rain. After all, those are the activities that he likes to do, so naturally he wants to share them with you too.

• He could also comfort you by suggesting to do something for you. Although, he isn't the most skilled with his hands when it comes to doing something other than painting or crafting stuff. So if you tell him that you want him to cook, or take care of some stuff around the house, he'll do it but it's not certain it'll come out great. He really tries his best tho lol.

• For example, one morning he tried to make some pancakes with a fruit salad, scrambled eggs and bacon, tea and coffee and your favorite fruit juice. He decided he'll do everything on his own without your help, while you'll be sleeping, and then he'd be able to bring you an amazing plate right at your bed when you wake up, because he knew you were working a lot and you were very tired lately.

• Unfortunately, his plan didn't go as well as he thought ; he burnt the bacon, he couldn't even cook the eggs because he kept piercing them too hard with his claws and they would drop to the floor (it's hard to cook with these...), he cut his fingers multiple times while cutting the fruits, he teared apart the bag of flour while trying to open it, etc...

• Cat Rafayel felt so disappointed, all he had left was a tiny fruit salad, coffee and tea and a fruit juice to bring you. With his bandaged hand, he brings you the plate at your bed and looks down in embrassement, telling you he tried to make it better than this but he failed. That's when you notice a little heart made with cream on top of the coffee's foam, a sign of his hard work and dedication.

• Rafayel as a catboy is truly a dedicated pet to his owner, ready to do anything for them because they are the most essential being in his life. While he may sometimes act selfish, wimpy, clumsy, possessive and capricious ; his playful and witty personality is at the service of his one and only.

≽ܫ≼ ⋆˚🐾˖°

SYLUS ᡣ𐭩

• It's not very easy to live with Catboy Sylus, he's a very unruly cat, it is useless to expect him to act exactly like you want him to, to follow your orders or your advice, or to wait for him to come back home.

• Catboy Sylus is absent most of the time, busying himself with stuff that you don't even know about and roaming around only God knows where. You've tried to ask him about it sometimes but he refused to tell you anything. So you can only hope he comes back home safely every now and then, and that he doesn't act too recklessly outside.

• It worries you, because when he does come back home every 2 or 3 days, it's usually in the middle of the night or right at dawn, and occasionally his body is covered with scars and bruises. Most of the time it's nothing too serious, but you still have to take care of those, otherwise the veterinary bills would wreck your bank account.

• Most of his scars are rather small, but one of his ears is chipped off and he's got two big scars on his lower back, maybe from an opponent who tried to catch him from behind.

• Cat Sylus is most likely a moggy or a sort of unknown mixed breed ; a very tall cat with very pointy ears, short white and brownish fur, a short tail as well and an angular face. If I'd really try to assign him a certain cat breed, then he'd be most similar to a skinny Siamese or an Oriental shorthair, or some sort of mix of the two (both breeds are pretty similar anyway). But again, I imagine him more to be a moggy stray cat that you found one day, badly injured and alone in the streets, and brought home despite his unknown origins. He does have some similarities with the two breeds aforementioned ; he's very energetic and highly intelligent, you can never try to trick him and you can never put him down to calm him.

• For example, once you had to give him medication, on veterinary's orders, just one pill everyday. Such a tiny little thing to make him swallow just once at one moment of the day, yet a merciful battle. The only way to make him eat it was to negotiate with him ; for one pill swallowed, he was granted a chicken leg.

• It is rather strange to witness that cat Sylus has very carnal instincts, and it might be because he used to live in the dangerous streets, but then again he doesn't look like a cat with direct wild feline genes. Whatever it is, it causes him to require a strictly carnivore diet and he also has a refined palate, meaning he only accepts to eat the best quality meat, real whole meat that humans also eat instead of the foul processed stuff given to regular cats. Or worse, smelly biscuits as treats. He'd be greatly insulted if you gave him those.

• About his hobbies, you don't know exactly what he does outside except than fighting and hunting, but he is supposedly a very good fighter, and most certainly a very good hunter, considering how many dead animals he brings you. It can be small lizards, mice, rats and other rodents. He also brings birds quite often ; from a tiny sparrow to a very large starling or crow. Although he strangely never kills those unlike his other prey, he keeps them alive and leaves them injured in your care, like you don't have enough work taking care of him already...

• In any case, you do take care of these little birds, feeding them and keeping them at your home so they can rest and heal their wounds, until you can let them fly away when they are healthy enough. Their wounds are always shallow and never enough to kill them, but still hurtful enough to leave them immobilized, which makes you wonder if Sylus doesn't purposely hunt them this way to satisfy his cruel and sadistic tendencies. You see him standing next to these birds when they are in cage, quietly trying to rest, and for unknown reasons he doesn't attack them but he just sits there peacefully, admiring them. When you asked him about it and pointed out his cruel behavior, he got offended by your words and retorted that you mistakenly considered him as a blood thirsty creature because of your prejudice against him, and at those words he left by jumping out of the window.

• In contrast, at home, he is very tranquil and mostly quiet, except those few times when he chooses to meow very loudly to annoy you, other than that he rarely interacts with you. He usually keeps his distances from you and he sleeps at the top of his cat tree, or any other high spot that he can find at your place. You've never seen him sleep very soundly tho, you notice that he always stays half awake, keeping his guard up even inside your home, suspecting whoever might try to break in, and positioned at a strategical spot, ready to pounce on them.

• During those moments, it's best to stay away and not bother him, cat Sylus might hiss at you if you get too close when he wants to be alone, and he is usually not a cuddly cat. If you force him into pets or a hug he will definitely make you regret it. He does not hesitate to scratch or bite you, thus injuring you and letting blood gush out of your wound. However, you can sense that he doesn't use his full strength on you, he could hurt you much more if he wanted to, considering how strong and fierce he is, but you notice that he holds back to push his claws or fangs too deep into your skin, and he carefully avoids the most delicate parts of your body such as your face.

• Gradually, he becomes nicer around you and is more inclined to get closer to you. For example, he likes to rest next to you on the couch, while you watch the TV or read a book, and the background sound of the variety show or of the book's pages being turned lulls him to sleep. He also appreciates sitting on the counter top of your kitchen while you cook and make yourself some tea or coffee, the buzzing noise of the teapot and the crackling sounds of the pan's oil give him a peculiar feeling of familiarity, that he does not remember to have ever experienced before.

• Cat Sylus starts to take a liking into those pets you give him after a few months since you rescued him. When you argued that you cared for him and you loved him, and you were there for him no matter what, he started thinking that maybe you're right, maybe he could lower his guard a little more when he is at home, with only you and him. So now, he accepts getting pets every once in a while, mostly being caressed on his head and back, and getting head pats. He despises getting scratches, and don't you dare touch him anywhere else other than his back and head ; but other than that he likes your gentle and slow touch, one that he never had the privilege to deserve before because he was considered a bad cat.

• The more catboy Sylus gets comfortable around your home and around you, the more he starts acting in surprising ways. For example, he started smelling your potted flowers that you keep by your window while he watches over the street, seemingly pleased by their smell, and he doesn't even try to eat the leaves or play with them like most cats do. He also started appreciating the music you play on your vinyl, he likes everything but particularly jazz, r&b and some classical music. As another example, he started asking you if he can eat the exact same meals as you every day, especially if it's meat nicely seasoned and cooked. The more he'd spend time with you, the more he seemed to develop a certain refined and sophisticated taste.

• Overall, it turns out that Sylus respects your home a lot. He considers it a safe haven that he was extremely lucky to be brought to, so he'll never damage it and little by little he learns to love its little details that makes it such a special place for you and him. Like the flowers and plants, your collection of CDs and vinyls, a framed photo of you and a bunch of silly magnets as souvenirs on the fridge, the dent on the couch after so many years of you sitting there, and his own dent he started creating right next to it. He doesn't know if he really deserves this, after all he could've continued his life as a stray cat wandering the streets and never have the chance to experience this, and it wouldn't have changed much. But he is glad you gave him the opportunity to live something like this, and he could never be more grateful to you.

• Catboy Sylus does not tell you how grateful he really is, because he struggles to express his feelings, but instead he tries to show it. He does not know how to take care of a home and how to do housework, at all, but he decided he'll do things his own way.

• A special activity of his, that you don't know about, is guarding your home while you are away and guarding your bed while you are sleeping. Similarly to a dog, cat Sylus likes to do surveillance work around his territory, and most importantly around his owner. He paces around the house, doing some rounds to check every weak spot of your defenses. For example, at the back of your house, the fence is slightly crooked, which could become an opening for the enemy's strike. Which enemy? Who knows... But Sylus won't back down when it comes to your safety. At night, when he guards your bed, he lays at its foot and waits patiently for any suspicious sign, while keeping his senses alert. Later on, he even came to lay directly next to you, stayed closer to you to guarantee your protection in the most optimal way ; the warmth of your sleeping body next to him and the slight brushing of your ticking finger on his tail could never distract him! Then, just a few minutes before you wake up, when he senses you moving slightly, as the sun starts rising up at the same time, he promptly leaves to continue his duties outside.

• His strong territorial instincts and his possessiveness are at the same time a blessing and a curse. One day, one of your close relatives came by while you were absent, to drop off some of your belongings and a delicious home-made meal out of family generosity. Having called you prior and since they had a copy of your keys, they entered your home without knocking. Suddenly, something jumped on them and pushed them to the floor, keeping them locked with a strong grip as they panicked. When you came back home, it was difficult to explain to them that the enormous and threatening beast who attacked them, was actually the nice little catboy you rescued a while back, and that he wasn't a dangerous monster, he was just very protective and rigorous to his duties. For Sylus, anybody coming into your home, except you and him, is a threat, and he has a hard time understanding that it's not always true, but he might learn with time.

• One of the most difficult things with Catboy Sylus is the bath. When you thought that giving him his meds was already the hardest task you were ever given to, the bath was the ultimate challenge you could've never imagined, especially considering that he needs it quite often since he goes outside a lot. Sylus absolutely despises the water and the shampoo. It's probably because he never had the opportunity to get used to it and to get regularly bathed while living on the streets, but still he is particularly stubborn and difficult to handle. So it's a battle (again), where he sometimes slips out of your grasp, but you do manage to give him his bath after negotiating with him (again) a whole rotisserie chicken to eat after, only if he behaves. Sylus stays still, grumbling a little bit.

• About his emotions, catboy Sylus used to be a very grumpy cat, always with an angry expression with his eyebrows frowned and a mean look directed towards you. Now that he is less wary around you, he shifted his irritated look to a snarky smirk constantly plastered on his face, that you cannot seem to know how to remove. When he does his regular surveillance, he smirks, when he eats his food out of the plate you just gave him, he smirks, when he spends time sitting next to you, he smirks, and when you call him and his ears twitch and perk up just before he turns his head to look at you : his smirk grows even wider.

• Scrutinizing his face while he smirks at you like that, you notice the faint squinting of his crimson eyes, which indicates you the only thing you need to know now : Sylus is very content around you in your home.

• Sylus as a catboy is the most loyal and protective companion. As much as you take care of him and of his wounds, and you satisfy his refined taste, he does not require anything out of you in exchange ; being the true guardian that he is, all that matters for him is accomplishing his duty to protect your home, with you and him around.

≽ܫ≼ ⋆˚🐾˖°

Pulled an all-nighter for my assignment only to get a shitty grade, so now I comfort myself with fictional catboys stories.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

After I wrote this (and you have to believe me), it turned out that Xavier is canonically a Ragdoll and Zayne is canonically a Main coon in the cat event, and it makes me so happy to know I guessed it right. Also, I do not know if I exactly wrote this as them being cats or catboys, it's a little difference so it doesn't matter much right? I guess it's kind of both.

I hope I didn't make the characters too ooc since I don't know them all that well in-game as of right now. Let me know in the comments.

Anyway, this took me a whole week to write ; so thank you very much for reading and coming all this way, I hope you liked it just as much as I liked writing it ! ദ്ദി（• ˕ •マ.ᐟ

[howtofightwrite]

What kind of wounds would a shotgun give to someone thats not wearing any bullet proof vest but just thick, winter jackets? Like those heavy jackets with fleece on the inside that old guys wear alot. ( I think its called a work jacket?)

I've always thought a shot gun would give some sort of blast damage and make quite a mess, but in The Day of The Jackal ep 6 it didn't seem that bad when he killed that farmer guy in Hungary lol.

So here's a fun thought to play with. A leather jacket is made from treated animal hide. In most cases, they're actually softened a bit to be more comfortable.

Shotguns are frequently used to hunt large game. Large game where their primary form of armor is their skin. Their skin which does almost nothing to stop a shotgun blast.

So, unless it's loaded with something like rocksalt, a leather jacket is not stopping a shotgun.

In answer to your original question, “what kind of wounds?” Catastrophic ones. It would be really messy.

Also, remember shotguns are still usable up to ~100 meters, at which they'll have a roughly 2m spray pattern. Getting hit by a shotgun, even at 50 meters, is going to be really bad. It's a bit like hitting someone simultaneously with a hail of small caliber rounds. Individually one piece of shot isn't likely to be lethal, but get hit with five or six of them, and that's a real problem. It's going to create a bunch of wound channels, and each wound has a chance to hit something vital, or ricochet and try again. And even at best, you're going to be losing blood from each of them simultaneously.

As for actual armor, most Level III or higher armor should stop a shotgun blast. However, shotguns are pretty good at damaging body armor. So someone wearing a ballistic vest who takes a shotgun hit, probably isn't going to be safe from the next pistol round that hits their vest anywhere near where the shot landed.

Similarly, with plate carriers, it should be fine, but there's a real risk that some of the shot chipped the plate. That's not going to cause the next shotgun blast to punch through, but it does mean that carrier now can't be trusted to stop rifle rounds.

Now, none of that are things you usually obsess over. For the most part, ballistic armor is single use anyway. If you're wearing a Kevlar vest and get shot, it's time to replace that vest. So, having your vest soak a shotgun hit isn't some kind of special tactic on your enemy's part, and is really just your vest doing its job.

Against unarmored targets, shotguns can be downright horrific.

So, using a winter parka to stop a shotgun blast is probably the result of someone who heard the, “shotguns are horrible at armor penetration,” line and took it a little bit too seriously.

There are some AP shells out there. Including slugs that market themselves as armor penetrating. I've never looked too deeply in to these. I know of their existence, but not how effective they actually are.

There's also probably some close quarters scenarios where a slug might punch right through body armor, even though, generally speaking, slugs lose energy extremely quickly, and at mid to long range, they're not going to penetrate. Ultimately, it is an 18mm bullet without a lot of powder behind it, so the drop off makes sense, but it's still a lot of mass to deal with when it's leaving the barrel. Even if your armor holds up, taking that hit is probably not going to be fun.

-Starke

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get access to new posts three days early, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’re already a Patron, thank you. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

[the-winter-spider]

Waiting Room | Part Two

Bucky x reader (as always )

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: Angst i guess sorta

A/N: So this is the next part to waiting room that was suppose to be just a One Shot but in easily convinced lol and I didn't really have a direction for the story to go in and this is where I landed, so hope you enjoy. There will be maybe another part or two so I can wrap it up. 

The night was cool as you walked away from the compound, the silence almost soothing despite the ache in your chest. You hadn’t made any plans, hadn’t packed anything more than a single bag. You just knew you couldn’t stay in that place anymore—not with the memories pressing in around you, with the sense that every hallway, every room, was echoing with what used to be between you and Bucky.

The city lights were ahead of you, casting faint glows against the dark sky, and for the first time, you felt completely unmoored. Your thoughts tangled in every step you took, as if each pace was a step away from the life you had built with the Avengers, and more painfully, from Bucky.

Hours passed as you wandered the city, barely aware of where you were going. You ended up at a small motel on the edge of town, paying cash for a room that barely had any light, just a bed with thin sheets and an old TV on a dresser. The emptiness of the room felt like it mirrored the hollow ache in your chest.

You set your bag down on the bed, letting out a sigh as you sank onto the edge, staring at the wall as thoughts of Bucky washed over you in waves. Images of him smiling, his quiet laughter, the way he’d hold your hand when no one else was around—all of it clung to you, heavy and unrelenting.

Pulling out your phone, you scrolled through your contacts to his name, thumb hovering over it. You knew he wasn’t waiting for your call; he’d made that clear. But part of you, the part that still remembered what it felt like to be wrapped in his arms, wanted him to pick up, to tell you this was all just a mistake.

Instead, you tossed the phone aside, burying your face in your hands as tears began to fall. You wanted to scream, to do anything that would make this feeling go away. The anger, the heartbreak, the deep sense of loss—the betrayal it all felt like it was crushing you.

The next morning, you took a breath and tried to piece together a plan. If Bucky wanted nothing to do with you, if the team was moving on without you, maybe it was time for you to do the same. You didn’t know how, but you’d figure it out. And maybe, someday, the memories would hurt a little less.

Days turned into weeks, and you managed to stay under the radar. You took on a few odd jobs here and there, avoiding anywhere that felt remotely familiar. You kept your phone turned off most days, keeping a low profile as you tried to settle into a new rhythm.

But at night, alone in that tiny motel room, everything came flooding back. The emptiness, the loss of the life you’d left behind, and the hollow ache that reminded you of the man you’d once thought would be by your side forever. You didn’t wanna feel anything at all anymore.

The motel was your base for now, a temporary haven between jobs. You knew eventually you would have to move but for now the dull hum of a broken fluorescent light above the bed was your only company most nights. You’d buried your old life, the Avengers, and everything you once fought for. Your existence was pared down to survival and the cold efficiency of violence.

You used old contacts from your past—people you’d hoped never to need again. Mercenaries, informants, shadowy figures from the underworld who didn’t ask questions as long as you delivered. And you did. Each contract was a blur, each mission a mechanical task you completed without hesitation or remorse. Slowly you were becoming less of who you were and more of what you were supposed to be before him.

Your skills made you valuable. Assassinations, high-stakes retrievals, contract killings—you took them all. It was work, and it kept you moving. You didn’t feel anything anymore, not the fear, not the guilt, not even the satisfaction of a clean job. You became a ghost, slipping in and out of places, leaving behind a trail of red.

Every kill was precise, methodical. You didn’t stop to consider who your targets were or what they’d done. The moral compass you once clung to was shattered, left in pieces back at the compound. You moved like a machine, your thoughts dulled by the monotony of violence. The whispers of self-destruction were your only companion now.

Weeks blurred into months, the days bleeding into each other. You didn’t follow the news, didn’t check your phone, didn’t want to know what was happening in the world you’d left behind. You didn’t see the press conference Tony had to hold, standing stoic as reporters peppered him with questions about your sudden disappearance.

“Agent Y/N has taken a leave of absence,” he’d said, his voice cool, calculated. “For personal reasons.”

That was all he gave them. No details, no promises of your return. When the questions turned toward your mental health, your stability, Tony’s jaw tightened, and he ended the briefing. Behind closed doors, the team was scrambling, doing everything they could to track you down. But you were a ghost, and ghosts didn’t want to be found.

In the quiet moments between jobs, you sat in the shadows of your rented room, staring at the ceiling. The weight of your kills didn’t register anymore; it was just a tally in your head, numbers climbing higher each week. You didn’t care who you were working for, as long as they paid and kept you busy. The emptiness was consuming, but you welcomed it. It was better than the pain.

You stopped dreaming. Stopped thinking about him, about any of them. The warmth of Bucky’s touch, the safety of his arms around you—it was a memory you refused to let surface. You buried it deep, alongside every other part of yourself that once cared, once felt.

When you weren’t working, you spent your time in dingy bars or cheap motels, drowning in silence. The weight of your solitude was your only companion. You avoided mirrors, avoided looking at the hollow shell you’d become. It didn’t matter anymore. You didn’t matter anymore.

Back at the compound, things weren’t much better. The team was holding together by a thread, every day marked by your absence. They didn’t talk about it openly, but everyone felt the weight of the void you’d left behind. Tony buried himself in his work, throwing up defensive sarcasm whenever your name was mentioned. Steve was more reserved, quiet, his concern etched into every line of his face, his thoughts a constant whirl of guilt, of what if, he was your leader, your friend, your family he should have done better. Natasha, Clint and Sam worked tirelessly to trace your steps, but you were always one step ahead, your trail going cold each time they got close.

Bucky, though—Bucky was a different story. He was unraveling. The stoic front he tried to maintain crumbled more each day. He’d catch glimpses of your room, still left untouched, and it felt like a dagger in his chest. Every lead that turned up empty, every mission he went on without you, only deepened the chasm of guilt and regret.

He didn’t show it around the others, but late at night, when the compound was quiet, he’d sit in the dark, gripping his dog tags as though they could anchor him. He replayed every moment, every word he’d said to you, the pain in your eyes when he told you it was “for the better.” He’d thought he was protecting you, sparing you from a life tethered to his darkness. But all he’d done was push you into your own.

Meanwhile, you continued to slip further into the shadows, your humanity fading with each passing day. The girl who once fought alongside Earth’s mightiest heroes was gone. Now, you were just a weapon, a tool for hire, drowning in blood and regret.

And you didn’t care if you ever came back.

The common room was silent, the atmosphere suffocating. The team sat around the dining table, their plates mostly untouched. It hadn’t been the same since you left—no, since you vanished almost a year ago. Conversations were hollow, laughter a distant memory. Every mission, every meeting, carried the weight of your absence.

Bucky sat at the far end of the table, his eyes fixed on his plate, though he hadn’t touched his food. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the clink of utensils against ceramic as Sam and Natasha picked at their meals. Steve was deep in thought, brows furrowed, while Tony sipped at a cold cup of coffee, his usual bravado long since dulled.

Suddenly, Tony’s tech pad beeped, pulling him from his thoughts. He glanced at the screen, his eyes narrowing as he read the data. Without a word, he stood abruptly and made his way to the common room, his pace quick and determined.

“Guys,” he said, voice sharp as he entered, the pad clutched tightly in his hand. The urgency in his tone snapped everyone to attention. “I think we’ve got something.”

The team immediately straightened, all eyes on him. Bucky’s heart lurched in his chest, a flicker of hope and dread surging through him.

“What is it?” Steve asked, his voice steady but tense.

Tony didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he tapped on the pad, and a hologram appeared above the table—a blurry snapshot of surveillance footage. The image was grainy, taken in some dimly lit warehouse, but there was no mistaking the figure in the frame.

It was you.

Your hair was shorter, your face leaner and paler than they remembered. Blood spattered your cheeks and clothes, your eyes sharp and cold. You looked like a ghost, hollowed out and deadly, a shadow of the person they once knew.

The room went deadly quiet, the weight of the image sinking in. Natasha leaned forward, her jaw tightening. Sam cursed under his breath, while Steve’s grip on the edge of the table tightened until his knuckles turned white.

“Is there video footage?” Steve asked, his voice low, barely concealing the mix of hope and fear in his tone.

Tony nodded grimly. “FRIDAY, play the video.”

The hologram shifted, and the grainy footage began to play. The scene unfolded in a dingy, run-down warehouse, dimly lit by flickering fluorescent lights. Armed men moved through the space, clearly preparing for some sort of deal. But then you appeared, stepping out of the shadows like a wraith.

You were fast, efficient, and terrifyingly calm. Without hesitation, you took out each man with precision—gunshots, blades, hand-to-hand combat. It didn’t matter how many came at you; they all fell. The blood spattered across your face only made your pale skin look more ghostly, more detached from humanity.

What shook them most wasn’t the violence—it was you. Your expression never wavered, your eyes cold and emotionless. It was as if you were on autopilot, a machine programmed to kill. Even when a bullet whizzed past your face, barely missing you and sending a strand of hair flying, you didn’t flinch. You simply moved on to the next target, cutting through them like they were nothing.

Bucky’s stomach churned as he watched. His hands gripped the edge of the table, his breathing shallow. He could barely process what he was seeing. This wasn’t you. This wasn’t the person he’d loved, the person he’d pushed away to protect. This was someone else entirely—a hollow shell, deadly and unrecognizable.

When the video ended, the silence in the room was deafening. Tony rubbed a hand over his face, his usual sarcasm replaced with grim resolve. “That’s the most recent hit we’ve got. It’s from a week ago.”

Steve was the first to speak, his voice strained. “She’s not just surviving out there. She’s… she’s lost herself.”

Natasha crossed her arms, her expression unreadable. “She’s always been a fighter, but this? She’s not fighting for anything anymore. She’s just… existing.”

Sam shook his head, his voice low. “She didn’t even blink when that bullet came at her. It’s like she doesn’t care if she lives or dies.”

Bucky pushed himself back from the table, standing abruptly. “We need to find her, I got to find her” he said, his voice rough, barely containing the storm of emotions threatening to spill over. “Now.”

Steve nodded, his resolve hardening. “Agreed. We’ve waited long enough.”

Tony tapped on his pad, pulling up a map. “I’ve got the warehouse location. It’s a start, but if she’s smart—and we all know she is—she’s already moved on.”

Natasha stood, her eyes locked on the map. “Then we track her. We use everything we’ve got.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, his mind racing with thoughts of you. The footage replayed in his head, the cold, detached look in your eyes, the way you moved without hesitation or fear. He knew he’d pushed you away to protect you, but now… now it felt like he’d only sent you spiraling further into darkness.

And he wasn’t sure if he could bring you back. But he’d die trying.

The hologram of the warehouse lingered in the air, casting a dull blue glow that accentuated the tension in the room. Tony continued scrolling through surveillance feeds, his movements precise but edged with frustration. No one spoke at first, the weight of your absence hanging over them like a storm cloud.

Sam finally broke the silence, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. “Where is she even finding out about these deals? She’s not exactly walking into a coffee shop and picking up intel from strangers.”

Clint, seated at the far end of the table, narrowed his eyes, his mind already turning over possibilities. “Maybe old contacts?” His gaze shifted to Natasha, who had been uncharacteristically quiet. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, and her face was set in a mask of unreadable tension.

She didn’t look at him immediately. When she did, her eyes were distant, filled with memories she rarely allowed to surface. “Yeah,” she said quietly, almost reluctantly. “That’s likely.”

Clint raised an eyebrow. “Someone from your Red Room days?”

Natasha hesitated, her jaw tightening as she nodded. “Before SHIELD. Before the Avengers.” Her voice was cold, clinical, the tone of someone recounting a story they wished wasn’t their own. “There’s a guy… a fixer. He operated out of Eastern Europe, connected to black market arms deals, high-profile hits, anything illegal you can think of. If she’s working for him now…” She trailed off, swallowing hard.

Sam leaned forward, frowning. “Anything you’d like to share with the class, Nat? Because this feels like something we should’ve known before.”

Natasha exhaled slowly, her gaze flickering toward Clint before settling on the table. “Before SHIELD, before Clint and I found her… she was lost. When she escaped the Red Room, she had nothing—no resources, no one to turn to. This guy took her in, gave her jobs, gave her a reason to keep moving. But it wasn’t a life. It was survival, barely.”

Clint leaned in, his voice lower now, as though he didn’t want to disturb the fragile truths being unearthed. “She was in deep. Mercenary work, hits, anything he wanted. She carried everything she owned in a backpack. She was running on scraps and rage. And the person she was back then compared to the one we know now…” He shook his head. “Night and day.”

Natasha’s expression darkened. “She was like a machine. On autopilot. He kept her that way with modified Red Room mind control.” Her voice softened, though her words cut like a blade. “Not enough to erase her, but just enough to suppress doubt, hesitation. Enough to make her compliant.”

The room fell into stunned silence. Bucky, standing slightly apart from the others, stared at the hologram of your face, his jaw clenched. His chest ached, a sick mixture of guilt and disbelief twisting in his gut.

Tony’s voice broke the quiet. “That wasn’t in her file.”

Natasha smirked bitterly. “Of course it wasn’t. Fury redacted it. He thought it would protect her if it ever came up.”

Clint’s voice dropped further, the weight of the memory heavy in his tone. “When Nat and I got her out, it was like detoxing someone from a drug. She fought us every step of the way. We had to tie her down to keep her from running back to him.”

Natasha nodded grimly. “She didn’t sleep, didn’t eat unless we forced her to. She was reciting mission protocols in her sleep like she was still under their control. It took months to bring her back to herself. And even then…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Even then, it was fragile.”

Steve’s eyes shifted to Bucky, whose hands were gripping the edge of the table so tightly that his knuckles were white. “Buck, did she ever tell you any of this?”

Bucky’s shoulders sagged slightly, his face shadowed with pain. He shook his head, his voice hoarse. “No. Not like that.” He paused, swiping a hand over his face as he blinked away tears he couldn’t stop. “She… she never pushed me to talk about my past. She let me open up in my own time, my own way.” He let out a shaky breath. “I thought… I thought she’d do the same eventually. And she did, bits and pieces. But it was always vague, like she didn’t want me to see just how bad it was.”

He looked back at the hologram, the image of your face burning into his mind. “She risked her life for me, over and over again. And I didn’t even know the extent of what she’d been through.” His voice cracked. “She deserved better than that.”

“And now,” Natasha said softly, her eyes fixed on him, “she’s back in it.”

Bucky’s head dropped, his fists clenching as he whispered, “Maybe worse this time. She’s not just surviving—she’s destroying herself. And it’s my fault.”

“Buck,” Steve said gently, but Bucky shook his head.

“I thought I was protecting her,” Bucky said, his voice louder now, trembling with emotion. “I thought pushing her away would keep her safe. But all I did was push her right back into the darkness she fought so hard to escape.”

Natasha’s voice softened further, though it carried an edge of warning. “If she’s with him again, he won’t hesitate to use that mind control on her. And if he has… there’s no telling how far she’ll go before she burns out.”

Tony paced, rubbing his temple. “We need to find this guy. Shut him down. If she’s working for him, she won’t stop until someone makes her.”

Steve straightened, his face hardening with resolve. “Then we find him. Find out where he’s operating now.”

Clint nodded, pulling out his tablet. “I can dig up some old intel. He moved a lot, but if he’s still running the same kind of jobs, I can find a pattern.”

Natasha glanced at Bucky, her tone quieter now. “We find him, and we find her. But she’s not coming back willingly, Bucky.”

Bucky lifted his head, his eyes dark and resolute. “I don’t care how far gone she is. She’s still in there, and I’m not giving up on her.” His voice dropped, almost to a whisper. “She has to be.”

Tony tapped the screen again, zooming in on the hologram of your face. “Then we better move fast. Because from the looks of it, she’s already gone too far.”

The team exchanged grim looks, the unspoken weight of what lay ahead settling over them. For Bucky, though, there was no hesitation. No doubt. He would bring you back, no matter what it took.

The quinjet hummed softly as it cut through the night sky, a stark contrast to the tension filling the cabin. The team was locked in silent focus, each member mentally preparing for what they might find at their destination. Natasha sat at the controls, her face unreadable, though her grip on the steering controls was tighter than usual. Clint was beside her, reviewing maps and old intel on the fixer, his expression grim.

Bucky sat alone, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. His metal hand flexed and clenched rhythmically, the only outward sign of the storm raging inside him. His thoughts churned relentlessly, replaying every moment since the breakup, every mission where he’d chosen to keep his distance, every chance he had to reach out and didn’t.

Steve, seated across from him, finally broke the silence. “We’ll get her back, Buck,” he said quietly, his voice steady but reassuring. “She’s still in there. We’ll bring her home.”

Bucky didn’t look up, his jaw tightening. His voice was low, almost a whisper. “And what if we don’t?” His eyes flicked up to meet Steve’s, and they were filled with a raw vulnerability that Steve hadn’t seen in years. “What if she’s too far gone, Steve? I thought I was protecting her, keeping her safe by pushing her away. But all I did was shove her right back into the darkness.”

Steve sighed, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. “You did what you thought was right. You were trying to protect her from getting hurt.”

Bucky let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “And now she’s out there, risking her life every day because I made her believe she wasn’t worth saving.” He paused, his voice cracking slightly. “I don’t know what I’ll do if we can’t bring her back. If she’s too far gone…Steve if we cant get her back….”

Steve reached out, placing a firm hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “She’s not gone, Buck. She’s still in there. We’ve seen her come back from worse, and she’s stronger than you think.”

Bucky’s eyes fell back to the floor, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his guilt. “I’m not sure she’ll ever forgive me. Hell, I’m not sure I can forgive myself.”

Natasha’s voice cut through the cabin, calm but commanding. “We’re coming up on the last known location of the fixer. This isn’t a guarantee, but it’s our best shot.” She glanced back at Bucky, her expression softer than usual. “You’ll get your chance to fix this, Barnes. But you have to be ready. She’s not the same person you knew.”

Bucky nodded, his resolve hardening. “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll do whatever I have to.”

The quinjet began its descent, the lights of a small, industrial city coming into view below. Natasha expertly landed on the outskirts of the city, near an abandoned factory that matched the coordinates from her old intel. The team geared up quickly, their movements efficient and quiet.

As they approached the factory, Clint pulled up the blueprints on his tablet. “Looks like a standard setup—main entrance, back exit, and a few access points on the roof. If he’s still using this place, he’ll have guards posted. We’ll have to go in quiet.”

Natasha nodded. “I’ll take point with Clint. Steve, Bucky, cover the rear. Sam, Tony you’re our eyes in the sky.”

Bucky didn’t say a word as they moved into position, his focus entirely on the task ahead. His grip on his rifle was tight, his breathing controlled. But inside, his mind raced with what they might find.

As they entered the factory, the air was thick with dust and the faint smell of oil and metal. The sound of distant machinery hummed through the walls, but the place seemed otherwise deserted.

Clint scanned the area with his thermal scope, whispering, “Two guards up ahead, near the control room.”

Natasha nodded, and within moments, the guards were taken out silently, their bodies crumpling to the floor without a sound. The team moved deeper into the facility, tension building with every step.

Finally, they reached the main floor—a vast, open space filled with crates and scattered equipment. And there, in the center of the room, was a man seated at a desk, his back to them.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “That’s him.”

The fixer turned slowly, as if he’d been expecting them. His face was lined with age, but his eyes were sharp, calculating. He smiled, a cold, predatory grin. “Well, well. The Avengers. What an unexpected pleasure.”

Bucky stepped forward, his voice low and dangerous. “Where is she?”

The fixer chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Ah, you must mean out little shadow, our ghost. Quite the asset, isn’t she? A real work of art, that one.”

Bucky’s fists clenched, and Steve put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back. “Where is she?” Steve demanded.

The fixer sighed, feigning boredom. “She comes and goes as she pleases. I simply provide the opportunities. She’s quite effective, you know. Doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t question. Just like old times.”

Natasha stepped forward, her gun trained on him. “What have you done to her?”

The fixer’s smile widened. “Only what she wanted. She came to me, broken and desperate. I gave her purpose, focus. She’s free now, free from all those messy emotions that held her back.”

Bucky’s voice shook with rage. “You didn’t free her. You turned her into a weapon.”

The fixer shrugged, unbothered. “She’s exactly where she wants to be.”

Bucky stepped forward, his voice deadly calm. “And where’s that?”

The fixer’s grin faltered for the first time. “You’ll never find her. She doesn’t want to be found.”

Bucky’s eyes burned with fury, but before he could move, Natasha pulled the trigger, shooting the fixer in the leg. He cried out, clutching his wound as he glared up at her.

“Where. Is. She?” Natasha repeated, her voice ice-cold.

The fixer coughed, blood dripping from his mouth as he chuckled weakly. “She’s already gone. But you’ll find her soon enough. If she wants you to.”

The quinjet touched down silently on the outskirts of the city. The team disembarked quickly, weapons drawn and senses on high alert. The abandoned office building loomed ahead, its shattered windows and graffiti-covered walls a testament to its long-abandoned state. Inside, though, it was anything but empty.

Tony’s voice was a low murmur as he held up his tech pad, showing the heat signatures inside. “Multiple targets on the top floor. Armed, moving in formation. Y/N’s in there, too.”

“Looks like another hit,” Natasha said grimly, her eyes scanning the building. “She’s taking out another crew.”

Bucky clenched his fists, his jaw tight. “We’re not letting her walk out of here alone.”

Natasha nodded, her voice steady. “Stay focused. We get in, neutralize the situation, and bring her back.”

The team moved as one, slipping into the building and making their way up the crumbling stairwell. The sound of muffled voices and footsteps echoed from above, the tension rising with every step. When they reached the top floor, they could hear it clearly now—the sharp commands, the clink of weapons, and then, suddenly, a scream cut short.

Tony raised his hand, signaling them to stop. He brought up the thermal view on his pad. “She’s already started.”

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat as they crept toward the open doorway. From their vantage point, they could see you in the center of the room, moving with deadly precision. You were a blur of efficiency, taking out the armed men one by one, each movement calculated and lethal. Blood spattered across the floor and walls, and your face, but you didn’t falter.

The last two men in the room scrambled to take aim at you, but you were faster. You disarmed one with a quick twist of his wrist, driving a knife into his chest without so much as a flicker of emotion. The final man backed away, terror in his eyes as he aimed his gun at you, his hands trembling.

Before he could pull the trigger, you grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground with ease. His struggles were futile, and the sound of his choked gasps filled the air.

“Y/N!” Bucky’s voice rang out, desperate and raw, cutting through the chaos.

You froze, your grip tightening on the man’s throat as your eyes snapped to Bucky. For a moment, the room seemed to stand still. The team watched, their weapons drawn but hesitating, waiting to see what you would do.

You stared at Bucky, your face blank, eyes devoid of the warmth they once held. Slowly, deliberately, you tightened your grip, and without breaking eye contact with him, you snapped the man’s neck with a sickening crack. His lifeless body fell to the floor with a thud.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Bucky took a step forward, his heart pounding in his chest. “Doll,” he said again, his voice trembling. “What are you doing?”

You stood there, blood splattered across your face, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Your eyes flicked over the rest of the team—Steve, Natasha, Sam, Clint, and Tony—all standing ready, but hesitant to make a move.

The room was suffocatingly silent, the air thick with tension as you stood amidst the bodies of the men you’d just killed. You looked at them—at all of them—as if they were nothing more than an inconvenience. Your once-bright eyes were now cold, lifeless, your pupils blown wide, a sharp contrast to the dim light of the room.

Sam was the first to break the silence. “Her pupils are huge,” he said, his voice low, uneasy. “That’s not normal.”

Natasha’s face tightened. She took a step forward, speaking in Russian, her tone steady but filled with quiet authority. “Ты идешь со мной, младшая сестра. (You’re coming back with me, little sister.)” She tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing. “Ты сделаешь это легко или трудно? (Are you going to make this easy or hard?)”

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you nudged the last man’s lifeless body with your foot, shoving him out of your way with a detached, almost bored expression. Then, finally, you spoke, your voice flat, emotionless.

“ Трудно(Hard).”

Steve sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “Are we really doing this? All of us, against her?”

Natasha didn’t break her gaze from you. “No. Just me.” She reached for her baton, switching it on with a low hum of electricity. “Let me try.”

Clint, standing off to the side, silently switched the arrow in his quiver to one tipped with a sedative, his fingers steady but ready. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes were locked on you, his movements precise and deliberate like he’d done this before, which of course he has.

Natasha stepped forward slowly, her baton raised but not yet striking. She muttered under her breath, almost to herself, “Дежавю. (Déjà vu.)” Then, in a softer tone, she added in Russian, “Я тебя люблю. (I love you.)”

The words didn’t even register. You moved without hesitation, launching yourself at her with lethal precision. Your first strike was a blur, and Natasha barely had time to block it with her baton. But you were faster, stronger, and more relentless than she remembered. Within seconds, you had her on the defensive, your blows landing harder and faster than she could counter.

Natasha grunted as you landed a kick to her side, sending her stumbling. “Something’s off,” she groaned, clutching her ribs as she stood. “You’re stronger than before.”

Bucky had been standing on the sidelines, his fists clenched, watching you tear through Natasha with ease. His heart broke with every blow you delivered. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He stepped forward, his voice cracking slightly.

“Sweetheart, please,” he said, his voice filled with desperation. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

You turned toward him, your face still expressionless, and in one swift motion, you pulled a knife from your belt and hurled it at him. Bucky’s reflexes kicked in, and he caught the blade mid-air, but the force of the throw pushed him back a step.

He dropped the knife, his hands raised in a defensive posture. “I’m not going to fight you,” he said firmly, his voice steady despite the pain in his eyes. “But I’m not letting you hurt anyone else.”

You didn’t hesitate, launching yourself at him. Bucky blocked every strike, his movements precise, never once retaliating. He didn’t want to hurt you, but you gave him no choice but to defend himself.

“Steve!” Bucky shouted over his shoulder as he deflected another of your attacks. “It’s the serum! She’s got some kind of super-soldier serum!”

Steve’s eyes widened, his grip tightening on his shield. Sam glanced at Clint, who still had his bow drawn. “Will that sedative arrow even work on her if she’s got the serum?”

Clint shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”

He loosed the arrow, and it flew toward you, but you moved faster than expected, catching it mid-air. The tip still grazed your arm, injecting just enough of the sedative to make you falter slightly. You wobbled for a second, your movements sluggish, but it wasn’t enough to stop you. You turned the arrow back around, flinging it directly at Clint with lethal precision.

Steve’s shield flew through the air just in time, blocking the arrow before it could hit Clint. The sound of metal striking the arrowhead echoed through the room, but before anyone could make another move, Tony stepped forward, his repulsor glowing.

“This is enough,” Tony said, his voice cold and decisive. He raised his hand, preparing to knock you out.

But before he could fire, Natasha, now back on her feet, grabbed a heavy metal pole from the wreckage around them. She moved quickly, her face set with grim determination.

You turned back toward Bucky, ready to swing at him again, your eyes still filled with that cold, mechanical focus. But Natasha was faster. She swung the pole with all her strength, aiming for the side of your head.

The impact was immediate. Your eyes widened briefly before your body went limp, collapsing to the floor in an unconscious heap.

The room was silent except for the sound of everyone’s heavy breathing. Bucky dropped to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as he gently cradled your head.

Natasha dropped the pole, her chest heaving as she looked down at you, a mixture of relief and sorrow in her eyes. “Я сожалею, сестра. (I’m sorry, sister.),” she whispered softly.

Steve stepped forward, his shield still in hand. “Let’s get her back to the jet. We’ve got work to do.”

[joicecubes]

my take on this scene (arcane s2 act 2 spoilers. obviously)

if you’re active within the arcane fandom space recently i’m sure you’ve at least stumbled across the discourse where someone interpreted this exchange to be vi “realizing jinx is a better older sister” or something. personally i think it’s a lot less about comparison and a lot more about guilt.

vi has felt responsible for jinx her entire life. she was her protector when they were kids. she abandoned her after vander, milo, and claggor’s deaths leading silco to take her in. jinx went on to work for him. she killed caitlyn’s mother in the council meeting explosion. everything jinx has done and every horrible thing she’s experienced has been a direct result (at least in vi’s mind) of her own failures as an older sibling. and despite her guilt, eventually she forced herself to accept that powder didn’t exist anymore. even more painful, that since she’s the one who caused jinx to be this way, she also has to take responsibility and stand by caitlyn’s side in ensuring jinx won’t hurt anyone else.

but she fails. jinx runs free, vi wallows in her breakup sorrows, and the next time they see each other, jinx… has changed. and she has that same kid with her from their fight. and she’s come to vi willingly for her help.

i think vi is thinking a lot of things when she sees jinx comforting isha. surprise, firstly, to see this side of jinx she hasn’t seen since they were kids. the jinx she knows is a shell of her former self, changed beyond belief, and yet vi watches as jinx softens and treats isha with so much care. helps her dust herself off, says something vi might’ve said to powder what feels like a lifetime ago. “still got all your insides?”

the truth of it is, it’s not jinx being a better older sister than vi was. it’s jinx emulating what vi once was to her, and i think vi catches onto that. she’s watching as an outsider now, jinx and isha paralleling what her and powder’s relationship used to be like and i think it would make sense if the strongest thing she’s feeling right now is longing. how devastating it is that their relationship feels so irreparable, how deeply she wishes she hadn’t hurt powder so long ago.

but there’s also hope in her asking “why’d you come get me? you don’t actually need my help.” sure, she’s still bitter. how could she not be, after everything that’s happened between them? but she recognizes that jinx doesn’t need her anymore, it becomes especially clear seeing jinx taking care of someone else like vi used to take care of her. so why seek her out? why drag her all the way out here? there’s a deep, wounded, guilty part of her that’s desperate for reconciliation, so she reaches for it. especially now that she has no one else.

they make me so sad :(

[decentwritings]

Chapter 1

Summary: At twenty-six, you never expected your life to look like this: a veteran, a college dropout, now running drugs to cover your late father’s debts. The military took you away for a brief moment, but now you're back in your hometown, keeping family at a distance to keep them safe. Your simple plan to clear the debt, one job at a time, unravels the moment Mabel steps into your life.

previous part <- -> next part

The man's voice echoes as you make your way to your truck. You're too focused on his words, the smirk on his lips as he says it.

"Like father, like daughter..."

You grip the car door handle, pulling it only to find it locked. You swore you unlocked it. You shake your head at yourself and unlock it this time, hopping in with the words still echoing.

The truck's interior feels suffocating, the familiar scent of worn leather and saltwater suddenly heavy. You slam the door shut, trying to drown out the memory of the man's mocking tone. He didn't know anything about you—just like everyone else in this town, he only saw the shadows of your father's choices lurking behind you.

You lean your forehead against the steering wheel, taking a deep breath. Your heart races, the weight of the night settling onto your chest. "Get a grip," you mutter to yourself, but the words offer little comfort.

You glance in the rearview mirror, half-expecting to see him lingering behind, smirking like he just won some twisted game. But the street is empty, illuminated only by the flickering streetlights.

You start the engine, its rumble cutting through the silence. As you shift into gear, a sense of urgency drives you to leave this place behind. But then a flash of Mabel's smile crosses your mind, a light that momentarily pierces through the darkness that seems to follow you.

You grip the steering wheel tighter, torn between wanting to escape and wanting to stay. What if she finds out? What if she looks at you the same way he did?

What about your mother? Your sister? Your nephew? You have so many people relying on you—and the weight of their expectations feels heavier than ever. You can't afford to let them down, to bring them into the chaos that has consumed your family. You can't let them see you falter or break, not when they've already lost so much.

Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to focus on the road ahead, the dim glow of streetlights flickering past your window. The familiar sights of the town blur together, each one a reminder of what you're fighting to keep safe. You push the thought of Mabel aside, reminding yourself that friendships can't thrive in darkness.

You're in need of a swim. The last five days have been filled with work that you haven't had time to go for a swim in the ocean. You also have been avoiding it because you're afraid Mabel may be there.

It's been five days though. No one goes to the beach recurrently like you. You should be in the clear.

Your duffel bag hits the sand when you find the right spot. The sun is beginning its descent behind the horizon and you can't believe how beautiful it looks. It never ceases to amaze you how the sun setting looks. Especially when it tucks behind the horizon.

The swim is long but not long enough. The only reason you swim back to shore is to rest your arms, the ache in them stronger than your need to do another lap. You return back to your spot and plop down on your towel, eyeing the shimmering sand on your wet legs and feet. You're slightly out of breath and tired, but you needed that more than you care to admit. You know you can't spend too much time here. You have a feeling Rudy will come out here in search for you after your last run in.

"You've been avoiding me."

Ahh damn, you think, your head dropping the instant you hear her voice.

You pick at the sand on your legs, attempting to brush it off. "I'm not avoiding anyone," you say back, glancing over your shoulder to get a look at her. You let out a soft sigh, knowing you can't hide from her now. Mabel stands a few feet away, her silhouette framed by the fading light, the glow of the sunset casting a warm hue over her features. You can feel your heart racing despite the chill of the evening breeze.

"Your uncle says you come by here everyday," Mabel says as she makes her way over to you.

You glance up at her, feeling a mix of embarrassment and longing. "He tends to exaggerate. It's not like I have a set schedule or anything."

Mabel laughs softly, her eyes sparkling in the waning light. "Well, it seems like he knows you better than you think. It's kind of sweet, actually. He worries about you."

It is sweet. What is also sweet is she's checking in on you. Mabel, who you have only known for a few hours, is checking in on you. You haven't had anyone other than family check in on you. You lost touch with your military buddies the minute they returned to base. They didn't like you leaving in the middle of a rough time in America. You argued that the hard time in this country will never cease, but the hard time in your family can with your help. Conversations between you and them ended since then.

You swallow hard, the weight of her concern settling in your chest. "I appreciate that, really," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "But it's complicated."

Mabel takes a seat on the sand next to you, her presence warm and inviting. "Complicated how? You can talk to me, you know. I'm a good listener," she smiles, like there's more to her words that you are failing to understand.

You glance sideways at her, searching for any signs of insincerity, but all you find is genuine curiosity and kindness. It's disarming. "I guess... I haven't been in the best place lately. Things have been rough at home," you reach for the end of the towel you're sat on, using it to dry your feet.

Mabel nods, her expression softening. "I can relate. Everyone has their own battles, right? I mean, it's not like my life is perfect either."

"What do you mean?" you ask, genuinely curious. That and to avoid the conversation from being all about you.

"I'm in town for summer break," Mabel begins, scooping some sand into her hand. She carefully pours it between her hands back and forth. "I have my own place–I've had my own place since I was eighteen to get away from my mom but when I'm in town, she tries to reel me back into her shit."

You watch her, intrigued by the way she opens up, revealing pieces of herself like a puzzle you're eager to solve. "That sounds tough. What kind of stuff? If you don't mind me asking."

Mabel pauses, her gaze fixed on the horizon, where the sun is slowly dipping into the ocean. "Just...stupid stuff." She answers, and you decide not to ask for elaboration. If she wanted to share, she would have. "She has this way of making everything about her. I love her, but it's draining, you know? It feels like I'm always trying to help her when I really need to focus on myself."

You nod, understanding all too well the pressure that comes from familial obligations. "Yeah, I get that. It's hard to balance everything."

"Exactly," she says, turning to you with a spark of understanding in her eyes. "And then there's school, and trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. I mean, it took a while for me to even make the decision to apply to college. It can feel overwhelming."

You nod, remaining quiet, feeling the connection deepening.

Mabel sighs, running her fingers through the sand as if it could somehow sift away her thoughts. "I guess I just feel stuck sometimes, like no matter how far I go or what I accomplish, I'm still tethered to this place. To her. To the people."

You lean back on your hands, looking up at the sky as it shifts into twilight, stars beginning to peek through. You look at her, really look at her. You hadn't noticed it before, but she has more freckles than you previously thought. The denim shorts she has on and the soft, oversized sweater she's wearing make her seem even more at ease in this moment, despite the heaviness of her words. There's something about the way the fading light catches her freckles, her hair slightly tousled by the breeze, that makes you realize just how much she's been carrying. She looks...ethereal.

And you've never even used that word before.

"Where do you go?" You ask her, and she looks at you in silent question. "College, I mean. You said you're in town for summer break so that must mean you go to college out of state."

Mabel nods. "UMass. I used to go to Dartmouth but then I decided to aim for Amherst–and I got in." She answers, picking at a loose fabric on her shorts. Like she's embarrassed with what she says next. "Don't ask what I'm studying, though because I don't even know yet."

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. "I wasn't going to ask. Honestly, when I first went, I had no idea what I wanted to study," you admit it, sitting up, dusting the sand off your hands. "Dropped out my second semester, though," you lift your hand to graze the necklace around your neck.

Mabel raises a brow. "Dropped out? What happened?"

"Got my heart broken, for starters," you begin, sighing as you remember the months before you joined the army. You miss the frown on Mabel's lips at your words, continuing. "And it was...all too easy. The classes and the homework, I mean. So, my grandfather, who had told me stories of his time in the Navy, said if education wasn't what I wanted to pursue, then to use the knowledge I had for something else."

Mabel remains quiet, allowing you to continue.

"I have a photographic memory," you confess, rubbing the pendant around your neck, feeling its familiar weight. You never shared that with anyone. Not even your ex. "It's been helpful in some ways, in high school when I learned how to really use it to my advantage," you finish, feeling a strange sense of vulnerability wash over you. "But after a while, it didn't feel like enough. Nothing really did."

Mabel tilts her head slightly, her eyes full of curiosity and something else—something softer. "That's a lot to carry," she says gently. "And I'm guessing the army helped distract you from all of that."

"Until it didn't," you shrug, recalling the times you returned home during leave, only to be greeted with indifference. No welcome party, no one even at the airport. You took a cab, and when you walked through the front door, your parents barely acknowledged your presence—like you hadn't just been in a war zone. Your sister, she wasn't any different.

"My parents didn't want me to join," you continue, sifting through the sand with your left hand. "Even shut out my grandpa because he managed to convince me. I had to hear from my captain that my grandfather passed–not from my family."

Mabel's expression hardens, a flicker of anger crossing her face. "That's fucked up," you glance at her at her firm tone, now aware of her demeanor. "I can't imagine how that felt; to find out like that."

You shrug, trying to downplay the weight of it. "I mean, it was what it was. I didn't expect much from them by that point anyway." The words feel hollow even as they leave your mouth, but it's easier to say that than to dwell on the hurt.

Mabel shakes her head, disbelief clear on her face. "Still... that's not something you should've had to go through alone. Your family's supposed to be there for you, especially with something like that."

You glance at her, surprised by the fire in her voice. There's a toughness in Mabel that matches the soft vulnerability she's shown tonight, and it intrigues you. She's been through her own battles, you can tell, and that makes her empathy feel real, not just empty words.

"Family's complicated," you murmur. "Sometimes, they're the ones who mess you up the most."

Mabel clenches her jaw, as if biting back a reply that hits too close to home. She exhales, shaking her head. "Yeah. But that doesn't make it okay. People think they can just push you around, try to control your life, and when you break away, they punish you for it."

Her words hang heavy between you two, the unspoken experiences she's not ready to share yet clear in her eyes. You look out at the horizon, the sky now dark, with only the faintest hint of twilight left.

The sun has fully hidden behind the horizon, the moon up in the sky with its toenail shape. You feel like a kid staring at it because with the discussion of your family, you vividly remember having trips to the beach with them and sitting here until the moon is in the sky.

That was when times were easy. You were innocent to everything going on in the world, in your family.

"I feel like this town only has pain," you find yourself saying, a flash of the dented "Welcome to Newbedford" sign coming to mind, the one you always passed when returning home. It seemed fitting, like the town itself was as broken as the people in it.

Mabel's gaze shifts to the moon, her expression softening just slightly. "Yeah." Her voice is low, almost a whisper. "Sometimes it feels like no matter where you go, the weight of this place follows you."

You glance at her, wondering just how much of herself she's trying to escape. She's resilient, strong-willed, but you can see now that there's a part of her tethered to this place just like you.

"It's like we're both trying to run from something," you say, not fully expecting her to respond.

Mabel nods slowly, as if she's been thinking the same thing. "But maybe... maybe we don't have to do it alone."

Her words hit you harder than you expected. For the first time in a long while, you feel understood, and in this small, fleeting moment, it's enough.

You hum, wiggling your toes and watch the dry sand fall off. You look at her and see it in her eyes, the pity in her eyes. She spoke with Rudy about more than just your trips to the beach and you know it.

"I'm a bad influence, Mabel," you say, shrugging to hide the hurt of how true the words are. "I'm a bad sister, bad daughter and I'll be a bad friend. Your best bet is to stay away. You look like you have it all figured out, or doing a good job of having it figured out. You shouldn't...waste your time on me. I'd just drag you into my mess, which is...dirty, for a lack of better word."

Mabel's expression shifts, a mix of surprise and concern. She leans closer, her voice firm yet gentle. "You don't get to decide how I handle my life or who I spend my time with. I see you trying, even if you don't."

You're stunned by how harsh her tone is. It's like this is a revelation for her—a breaking point where she's finally willing to stand her ground. You can't remember the last time someone pushed back against your self-deprecation like this, and it catches you off guard.

You look away, the weight of her words pressing against you. "I don't want to ruin your summer or make things worse for you. You deserve better than what I can offer."

"Maybe I don't want 'better,'" she shoots back, her tone almost teasing, though her eyes remain serious. You crack a small smile, the hint of a smile on her lips making you crack slightly. "Maybe I want real, and real is messy. We all have our battles. It doesn't make you a bad person; it makes you human."

You shake your head, feeling the ache of her honesty. "You don't know what you're getting into. I'm tangled up in things I can't just walk away from."

Or rather, don't want to, because you're scared of the consequences.

You want to tell her about your dad, how he ruined your family with his death. But it's not in you; because he may have been a stupid dumbass but he still raised you, taught you things you find valuable.

"I can't just let you in on all of that. It feels unfair to unload it on you when you have your own life to navigate," you admit, your voice trembling slightly with the weight of the truth you're holding back.

Mabel watches you intently, her expression softening. "You think I haven't been where you are? I've dealt with my share of darkness. I get it. I really do."

There's a silence that envelopes you both, and you notice her scoot over to brush her shoulder against yours.

"People deserve a chance to prove they are capable of more than what they are expected of," she whispers.

You shake your head, still defiant to this.

"Mabel, you don't even know me," you whisper, a whisk of wind blowing the silence away with your words.

Her gaze doesn't waver. "That's true, but I want to," she says, sighing quietly. "I've been in college for two semesters now and I feel like I've learned a thing or two about people. How to read them and how to understand the layers beneath the surface." She shifts closer, her shoulder brushing against yours once again as she continues, "You're not just a collection of mistakes or past choices. You're a person with history and dreams and everything in between."

You look at her, surprised by the depth of her insight. "Psychology," you say, raising a brow. She arches one back at you. "I remember reading something like that in my intro to psych class."

Mabel hums. "Photographic memory," she remembers and you can only nod. "Look, you're the girl who jumped into the ocean for some stranger's bag," she continues, her tone lightening with a hint of amusement. "That says something about your character."

You chuckle softly, brushing off her compliment. "It was just a bag. I couldn't let it drown."

"But it wasn't just a bag to me," Mabel insists, her voice firm yet playful. "It was my favorite bag! You saved it, and that speaks volumes. You're willing to go out of your way for others, even when you're struggling yourself."

You take a moment to absorb her words, the weight of them sinking in. You wrap your arms around your knees, the feeling to go back for a swim surfacing. You eye the waves, the darkness over them with the shimmer of the moon on the surface.

"Charlie didn't even jump in," Mabel says, bringing you out of your stupor. "And he's been trying to nonchalantly get us back together."

You whip your head to look at her. By your look, she laughs, nodding as she understands your silence.

"We used to date," Mabel shrugs, and you can't help but wonder what the idiot did to lose her. "We tried the long distance thing while he was here and I was in UMass–didn't work. I was too focused on wanting to get out, leave to never come back and he–well, he gave up a scholarship to stay in town with his brother to fish."

You quirk a brow, both impressed and bewildered by Charlie's decision. You didn't take the guy for someone to give up a scholarship. You actually saw him more as a fisherman than an Ivy League guy. Looks can be deceiving, you think.

"Wow, that's a big sacrifice," you say, trying to wrap your head around it. "I guess that explains why he's still here."

Mabel nods, her expression shifting slightly. "Yeah, he's a good guy, but... sometimes good isn't enough, you know? We just weren't on the same page. I needed to chase my dreams, and he was stuck here–or rather, choose this place over..."

You can hear it in her voice, see it on her face. He hurt her. He chose this place over her. The breakup may appear amicable but it hurt Mabel more than she cares to admit.

"I don't know," she admits, looking out at the ocean. "It's complicated. Part of me wants to see what's out there, but another part of me feels rooted here. It's a tug-of-war."

"Sounds familiar," you murmur, thinking about your own life and the choices you've made.

You feel sticky, icky even. The need for a swim is strong again, so you stand, surprising the girl beside you.

"I have a spare change of clothes," you start, stretching your back and cracking your neck. You're too lazy to stretch anymore so you extend your hand, the corner of your mouth tilting up into a small half smile. "Wanna go for a swim?"

Mabel stares up at you, her gaze flicking between your hand and your face, weighing the invitation. You can see the hesitation in her eyes, but there's also a spark of excitement.

"Are you serious?" she asks, her tone a mix of disbelief and curiosity. "You actually want to swim at night?"

"Why not?" you reply, a teasing grin spreading across your face. "The ocean is right there, and it's just us. Plus, it'll help wash away all the heavy stuff we've been talking about."

Mabel bites her lip, considering. You can tell she's torn between the comfort of staying on the beach and the thrill of diving into the unknown. Finally, she glances at the dark water, the moonlight dancing on its surface, and takes a deep breath.

She says something under her breath, you strain to hear it. You shake your head and kneel to ask her to repeat herself.

"I don't know how to swim."

You purse your lips, a laugh threatening to escape your lips. But the tint of color on her cheeks is noticeable thanks to the moon's light. So you inhale a breath and shrug.

A wave of empathy washes over you. "That's okay. We can just splash around in the shallow part, or I can help you if you want to go deeper."

She looks at you, like she's trying to read more into what you're saying or offering. You aren't sure how long it is you two just stare at each other; you do know you can spend however long she wants like this, because it feels right.

But then,

"Okay," she says, her voice steady now, determination shining through. She takes your hand, her grip surprisingly firm as she stands up beside you.

You turn your gaze back to the ocean, pretending to focus on the gentle lapping of the waves, though your heart races at the sight of her shedding layers. The cool night air contrasts with the warmth radiating from her skin, and you can't help but steal glances at her as she rolls her sweater up and over her head, revealing a simple tank top beneath.

As you reach the water's edge, the coolness envelops your feet, sending a shiver up your spine. You turn to Mabel, who's already stepping in, her laughter mingling with the sound of the crashing waves.

"How far out have you gone?" Mabel asks as you guys continue into the water, the waves hitting your thighs now.

You shrug, unsure of the furthest distance you've gone out. You never measure or pay attention. You usually pick your head up from under the water when you're out of breath, once you've caught your breath you go back to the shore then repeat the process. You once caught yourself floating on your back, you fell asleep and somehow wound up on the other end of the shoreline.

"Far enough to lose track of time," you reply with a grin, recalling that day you ended up at the other end of the beach. "I actually fell asleep once, just floating. Woke up way down the shoreline. Scared the hell out of me when I realized where I was."

Mabel's eyes widen in surprise. "You fell asleep? While floating in the ocean?"

You nod, feeling the cool waves brush against your legs. "It's peaceful out there, especially when you're alone with the water. Everything just... fades away."

She seems intrigued by your story, a curious gleam in her eyes. "That sounds terrifying and relaxing at the same time."

You laugh softly. "Yeah, it kinda is. But it's also freeing. It's like the ocean holds you up, lets you forget about everything weighing you down."

Mabel's gaze shifts to the dark horizon, her expression thoughtful. "I guess I could use a little of that," she murmurs, the weight of her own thoughts evident in her voice.

You watch her, as she dares to wander just a few inches ahead without you. She puts her hands in the water and lets a wave hit her arms. It's this scene before you, seeing her like this, that makes you decide.

"I can teach you," you speak up, earning her attention. "How to swim. I can teach you," you clarify.

Mabel nods, appearing grateful for the offer. "I'd like that," she laughs gently, a slightly bigger wave hitting her square in the face. She spits water out and stands straight, frowning at your chuckle. "Why didn't you warn me?"

You grin, unable to suppress your laughter as you watch her wipe the water from her face. "Hey, I thought you saw it coming!" you tease, shrugging innocently. "Besides, it's all part of the experience, right?"

Mabel rolls her eyes, but there's a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Sure, if getting slapped in the face by a wave is part of the lesson."

"Lesson one," you say, wading closer to her, "the ocean's unpredictable. You gotta stay on your toes. Literally."

She mimics you, lifting her toes just above the sand, her playful energy returning. "Got it. Stay on my toes and avoid surprise attacks from waves."

You nod in approval. "Exactly. Now, come on. Let's start with floating. It's the easiest way to feel like you're one with the water."

Mabel looks at you, unsure, but the trust is there. "Alright," she says, "show me how it's done."

You guide her a bit further into the water, positioning yourself beside her. The moonlight reflects off the waves, and for a moment, it feels like it's just the two of you in the world. "Just lean back," you tell her softly. "I'll hold you up at first. Let the water do the rest."

She hesitates but then leans back into your hands, her body tense as she tries to relax. "You got me?" she asks, her voice a little shaky.

"I've got you," you assure her, your grip steady. "Now just...relax."

She struggles to actually relax. You laugh and grab her hands, softly calling her name.

"Mabel, you gotta relax," you say, and she sighs, the tension in her body more obvious than before. "Trust me. You trust me, right?"

There's no moment of hesitation.

Mabel takes a deep breath, her eyes searching yours in the moonlight. "I do," she says quietly, the sincerity of her words cutting through the gentle crash of the waves. She exhales, and you feel her start to let go, her body slowly surrendering to the water.

As she floats, the tension fades, leaving only the sound of the ocean and the steady rhythm of your breath. You release her gently, your hands hovering just beneath, ready to catch her if she falters. But she doesn't.

For a moment, it's perfect—just the two of you, suspended in the vastness of the ocean, under the stars.

You smile to yourself, feeling the weight of the past few days lift ever so slightly, as if the sea itself is helping to carry it.

And maybe, just maybe, you think, this is what it feels like to let someone in.

Once the first lesson is done, you both return to your towel. You may have had extra clothes but you didn't have an extra towel. So you bundle up together, wrapping the towel over your shoulders, squishing together under it.

"You're not such a bad influence after all," Mabel says, her head falling onto your shoulder. You can't control the smile that forms on your lips, looking down at her in silence.

The waves lap, and you're grateful for your photographic memory; having this moment etched into your brain forever.

~~~~

taglist: @nwestra

[imaginable-horror]

I haven't been keeping up with The Magnus Protocol fandom so I have no idea about people's theories about what's happening, but my vague theory is that the reason the fears have been so hard to distinguish in each statement is because when Jon and Martin brought the fears through to other realities they became more concentrated as a single force. Gerry describes the fears as colours, all being technically the same thing but distinctly individual at the same time. They are able to be distinguished and seperated through human perception, the way that we arrange things to try and understand them despite these cosmic forces being beyond human comprehension, but the reality that we force isn't true and exists only within the confines of the pitiful limits of human understanding. We seperate them to make sense of them and because they are partially influenced by human perception, human fear, they can somewhat be categorised. When the fears are brought through the rift in reality at hilltop road however, Jon, himself as the conduit, brings them all together to extract them from TMA's reality and send them on to the next. My theory is that they remained bundled together, unable to establish themselves as distinct individual forces as really they are parts of a whole. It tracks that they would remain smushed together after they were all collected up and dragged through the hole in reality, and therefore aren't as separate anymore. They overlap more now, are harder to single out. The fears work on dream logic and symbolism and I think that being channeled through a single conduit would have tied them all closer together; muddied the colours, if we wish to continue with Gerry's metaphor. If in TMA the fears are fingers pushing into reality, each distinctly seperate but belonging to a larger whole that remains out of sight, then in TMagP the full hand is pushing its way through. You can still see each individual finger, recognise it, but there are more places where they are connected, the spaces in between fingers harder to individualise.

[nadas-dirthalen]

Dragon Age: the Veilguard Was Packed with Lore — But Many of Us Overlooked It

— PART TWO —

[ 1 ]

Welcome back, friends and travellers. If you've been here a while, you'll know that I wrote 30,000 words of predictions in the week and a half before DA:tV released. But here's the most surprising thing—I was right, for the most part.

I spent my first Veilguard playthrough grinning (and then sobbing) at all the lore reveals. And here's the thing: I think most of us missed a lot of them, including even me.

So let's unpack some more.

Titans: Dark and Light, Compassion and Rage, the Eternal Hymn and its Endless Listeners (2/2)

This is your warning: This post will contain spoilers for the entirety of Dragon Age: the Veilguard, and all Dragon Age content made before Veilguard.

I've spoken a lot about the titans before. In fact, they make up the bedrock (lol) of many of my pre-Veilguard theories. While a lot of what I said a month ago has since become canon in Veilguard, there's a lot that remains as speculation.

Today, I'm going to talk about why I still stand by my theory from October: that the titans and the spirits have far, far more in common than we think, and that this is of vital importance for the next game(s).

Today's Discussion:

What Solas' Creation and Harding's Personal Quest Have in Common

Not Only Do Titans Behave as Spirits... Spirits Behave as Titans

The Dark and the Light, Sundered

Atonement Solas' Promise: He (Still) Seeks Regeneration

What Solas' Creation and Harding's Personal Quest Have in Common

Thanks to Veilguard (and the hints that came before it, if you're coming here from my previous posts), we know that Solas and Harding have far more in common than they think. Both are inexorably connected to the titans: Solas because his body was crafted from lyrium, and Harding because of how her Stone magic awoke after touching Solas' lyrium dagger.

I've theorized before that I think Solas is still connected to Isatunoll, but that the creation of the Veil altered or harmed this connection somehow. Veilguard touches on this with its implications: Solas says the blight senses his presence during the Minrathous portion of the endgame, and says during his Atonement ending that he is able to soothe the titans' anger. It also asserts, during Solas' Memory #3, that the ritual to create the Veil went wrong, wounding Solas in the process.

Both Solas and Harding, then, have to do with both the titans' past and their future. The Temple of Solasan is referenced when this codex in Trespasser mentions the titans needing to be forgotten, and we know now that Mythal and Solas would come to sunder the titans with the lyrium dagger. Solas is the reason the titans were forgotten, and is likely the source of the song "I am the One."

Harding, by contrast, is one of few dwarves whose magic has awoken. The Titan Shade in her personal quest demands that the world remember the anger and pain it has forgotten: the titans' sundering (as well as her own anger). The titans have no future without acknowledgement of their past, and so both Solas and Harding have instrumental roles to play going forward (assuming both are alive and have agreed to this).

It is evident, also, that the pain of being forgotten is traumatic to the titans. Cole mentions this several times in Inquisition, as referenced in the last post. Songs that once sang the same; titans stuck asleep, forgetting how to wake.

And here is where Solas and Harding's parallels really come to light.

This trauma forces Harding to make a choice with her Titan Shade. In every scenario, she acknowledges the Shade's pain. Her choice, then, is to embrace that pain and carry it in Compassion... or embrace the titans' anger, as well as her own. In other words, as is referenced by Stalgard...

I drew close, and the sound became something more. I could feel it, Lace Harding…. Rage, sorrow, and a vast loneliness. — Codex: Letter for Lace Harding

Rage. Harding must choose between Compassion and Rage. We've seen this before. It comes up in Down Among the Dead Men, a story in the Tevinter Nights anthology:

Following a trauma, spirits are pushed toward changing. For so long in this franchise, we called these changes "demons," and still do. But the creature itself is not different—it just exists in a different state.

Emmrich says exactly this, equating spirits and the Titan Shade.

I once communed with a soul who shared a tale of deep sorrow from his youth. "So that the truth wouldn't be lost," he said. Interestingly enough, he could only bear to recall the event after death, when the memory had lost its sting. (l cannot share the tale. A Watcher must keep the confidences of the dead.) Your experience with what you call "the Titan's Shade" brought this anecdote to mind. As you say, in the first moments of your transformation, you were unable or unwilling to confront the depth of the Titans' sorrow. But unlike my friend, this pain was never quite your own. Instead of being trapped within, it fled elsewhere. — Codex: From Emmrich, on Sorrow Denied

We see, now, that the titans do the same thing. The only difference is that Harding is connected to the titan through Isatunoll; her spirit is not, itself, inside the titan. Put through a trauma, though, the titans turn. This is something I theorized as happening to Solas' titan upon his creation, because the trauma of the elves making bodies from its lyrium caused the titan to lash out and fight back, just like Cole says in DAI.

This is why both Solas and Harding are capable of soothing the titans' anger. It doesn't matter that Harding is a dwarf and Solas is one of the elvhen: both are still connected to their titan.

But as much as Veilguard tells us about the Titans being more similar to spirits than previously thought, it does not stop there. No: if you listen closely, Veilguard whispers to you that this similarity goes both ways. Spirits are more similar to titans than we ever could have imagined.

Not Only Do Titans Behave as Spirits... Spirits Behave as Titans

Something caught my eye during my very first Veilguard playthrough, super early on. Of course, I played the whole game through the lens of my own theories, wondering if there could be a connection between titans and spirits.

Immediately I saw, on the floor of a cell in the Ossuary:

I am Nyrys I was Nyrys I we were we are Nyrys — Note: Inmate Scribbling

Immediately, I was reminded of Harding's description of Isatunoll: "It means 'I am here.' But no, not 'I.' 'I' is singular. But it isn't 'we,' either. 'We' is multiple, but also separate... Isatunoll is the eternal hymn that encompasses all time. All spaces. I am. We are. This. That. Here. There. Now. And forever."

That seems to suggest that Nyrys, an inmate who was probably turned into an abomination, might be connected to Isatunoll. The note is written almost the exact same way that Harding is speaking. "But Lore," I hear you saying, "Couldn't that just be an abomination thing, a spirit struggling to share a body?"

I thought so, too. Right up until this.

Late after— (the handwriting abruptly alters:) a PEACE cut from the ALL golden stranded weaves PROTECTION CAGE keep them OUT keep me IN (Drawn below is a decagonal diagram of perfectly even, intersecting geometric lines.) — Codex: Lucanis' Logbook, 2

Understanding that Spite is likely writing with a phonetic understanding of the common tongue, we can interpret his words as 'a PIECE, cut from the ALL.' While I cannot say for certain what the rest describes (it could be Spite's opinion on the Ossuary, a reference to the titan's sundered dreams, or anything in between)... I know that these two first lines clearly talk about a spirit who has been cut away from something larger and grander than itself. The "all."

Now that sounds like Isatunoll, to me.

If you've been here since my October posts, you know where this is going. I've got to find a way to check this idea against other sources. And the first place I go, usually? The Chant of Light, for all the Chantry's evident faults.

I'm reminded of the creation of the Maker's first and second children.

Then the Voice of the Maker rang out, The first Word, And His Word became all that might be: Dream and idea, hope and fear, Endless possibilities. And from it made his firstborn. — Threnodies 5:1

That exact phrasing—"dream and idea, hope and fear, endless possibilities"—is used both in the creation of the Maker's first and second children. The spirits and the second children's souls. It is not used anywhere else in the Chant of Light.

At last did the Maker From the living world Make men. Immutable, as the substance of the earth, With souls made of dream and idea, hope and fear, Endless possibilities. — Threnodies 5:5

I've said before that I believe that all spirits originate as thoughts—namely, the thoughts of one or more of the titans. I think that even the souls of living people apply, here, despite what some of Emmrich's codices discuss. When you consider how Solas speaks about the Inquistor's spirit in DAI, it seems apparent that (at least to Solas) spirits and souls are interchangeable terms, when they belong to a living person.

Additionally, there is a manor in the Hossberg Wetlands that features an Obsession demon locked away that Rook must kill once they get to its location. The party speculates how the demon may have gotten there, and (I believe Rook) comments on how it is possible that the person from the manor themself may have become the demon.

That would imply that their soul was capable of doing so.

Now, let's go back to how spirits (the Maker's first children) and dwarves (the Maker's second children) are in possession of the same souls, per the Chant of Light. Understanding that the Chant of Light is flawed and that I do not believe that Solas is the Maker (rather, that Solas may have come from the titan that Andraste spoke to), I want to draw attention to this verse.

Then the Maker said: "To you, My second-born, I grant this gift: In your heart shall burn An unquenchable flame All-consuming, and never satisfied. From the Fade I crafted you, And to the Fade you shall return Each night in dreams That you may always remember Me." — Threnodies 5:5

It's important to note that the Maker says to his second-born (the dwarves) that they shall return to the Fade each night in dreams. Remember: the dwarves were once able to dream. More than that, though, the Maker says that the dwarves may visit the Fade each night in dreams to be able to connect with the Maker. They were, in fact, crafted with the "flesh of the Fade," a reference made to lyrium.

That implies a direct connection between the titans and the Fade. It suggests that, once, the titans also shared the Fade with other living creatures—or, perhaps, even more. I still believe that the Fade is the collective consciousness of the titans, and that reconnecting with the Fade is part of reconnecting with the titans because of that fact.

The Dark and the Light, Sundered

In a previous post, I theorized that, because Solas created the Veil and it seemed to have sundered the titans in addition to separating the Fade from the waking world, the Fade must be the titans' shared consciousness. We know now that those were two separate acts: Solas sundered the titans and put part of their dreams into the orbs that became the Evanuris' foci. For a time, I thought that this theory must be wrong.

However, in the same series of memories, we learned one more fact: his ritual to create the Veil went wrong. In Memory #3 (Blackened Hearts), he cries out in pain during the moment the Veil is created. This not only hurt the world, but exhausted Solas. Hurt Solas.

"He broke the dreams to stop the old dreams from waking. The wolf chews its leg off to escape the trap." — Cole dialogue

This refers to the creation of the Veil. We know now that Solas created it, in part, to stop the blight from escaping—that would be the old dreams waking that Cole refers to. What's interesting is that Cole refers to this as Solas chewing off his own metaphorical leg to escape the trap. There was always a personal consequence for Solas referenced here.

But why? Why would being cut off from the Fade outside of dreams hurt him? Spirits exist on Thedas all the time. It is only the trauma of being pulled through the Veil against their will that turns them to demons.

To understand that, we must understand what the Fade even is. How it relates to the titans, and what that means going forward.

First, I want to take a look at this codex from Inquisition, which suggests that the water in the Abyss (the realm of the titans) may be the exact same thing as the emerald waters in the Fade.

It is possible—even likely—that the "emerald waters" Andraste refers to are the substance of the Fade, which began as an "ocean of dreams" (Threnodies 1:1) and was reduced to a well—bottomless but limited in scope—by the Maker's creation of our world. —Codex Entry: Here Lies the Abyss

There are other similarities between these two things that come up in Veilguard, if you're looking for them. The first, for me, is a codex.

What determines which sections of the physical world are echoed in the Fade? Is there an underlying logic, or glacial patterns past comprehension? Do our collective fears and longings craft what we see? The will of a mage is especially potent. We may learn to shape the Fade's pathways, if we are ever-mindful of the dangers this invites. — Codex entry: The Obverse of Reality

The phrasing here is very interesting. We know that Shaping is something that the titans once did. The dwarves, to this day, have the Shaperate, in charge of the Memories. To see that language applied to a mage's influence on the Fade implies that mages may exist the same power to manipulate the Fade as the titans did on the Stone, which suggests that the Fade and the Stone can be Shaped in the same ways. The similarity here does lend itself to a theory where the titans and the Fade are parts of the same being/collective.

The second is that one of the revenants—the Slaughtered Pillars, from Elvhenan's Haven—have a line of dialogue that jarred me the first time I heard it.

"Light and song, stolen."

We know that the titans being sundered took their songs away, for the dwarves (save for a few, now) do not hear the titans' songs anymore. It's the word light that gave me pause.

Three guesses as to where I looked for more instances of the word light. If you guessed the Chant of Light, the gigantic piece of lore with light in its title, you are correct!

The first mention I want to note is the very early in the Chant

Opposition in all things: For earth, sky For winter, summer For darkness, Light. — Threnodies 5:4

Note that Light is capitalized here, implying significance. Again, it appears here. Here, we're implying that capitalized Light refers directly to the Fade.

(11) Above them, a river of Light, Before them the throne of Heaven, waiting — Threnodies 8:11

And, lastly, and most prominently in Veilguard: the Lighthouse. Its name, in the elven language, is "Vhen'Theneras." Translated, though, that would mean, "core of dreams." Unless, of course, dreams and Light are the same thing.

But if the Light is indeed the Fade, and there must be opposition in all things according to the Maker, then where have we seen dark before?

We've seen it in the Abyss—aka, the Void. We've seen it in the darkspawn. Those blighted beings that emerge from the Deep Roads, aka the Abyss/Void. Remember that the blight itself is the escaped maddened dreams of the sundered titans. Darkspawn refers to the product of those escaped dreams—the ones not in the Fade/Light.

Crucially, the darkspawn behave in much the same way as anything connected to Isatunoll. They hear a Calling that, at first, belonged to the archdemons, but Antoine now says is coming from somewhere else, as well.

It's the description of Isatunoll that ties this all together for me: titans/their children and spirits, Abyss and Fade, dark and Light.

In a letter from Dagna to Harding, she describes Isatunoll — but in that description, she focuses on this idea that beings connected to a hivemind "know their purpose." Purpose is a word used by Solas all the time in DAI. Spirits have their own purpose.

Think about ants. Ants know what they are. They know their purpose, and they must understand, instinctually, how that purpose fits within the whole. But what if it doesn't end there? What if their consciousness isn't just individual? What if the nest itself knew what it was? A collective sentience of some kind. Nothing says the ants don't have a collective sentience. We just assume they don't, because they're ants. Ants. Or bees. Or darkspawn. Now, there's a thought. — Codex Entry: Thoughts on "Isatunoll"

What if consciousness itself is not individual? asks Dagna. What if the nest itself knew what it was? This explains the darkspawn, after all: the blighted beings who are all connected to the song of the Calling, and the maddened dreams the blight originates from.

The nest, except for that small trickle of escaped blight, is the Fade. The Fade, which is a place that responds to the collective wants and memories of those inside it. The Fade, whose pathways are shaped by the thoughts and wants of the people—especially mages—within it.

My theory is this: the creation of the Veil may have hurt Solas because Solas was still connected to his titan, and to Isatunoll. Some of his love of the Fade may be because he misses the titans' shared dreams—and, by extension, the shared dreams of every living person on Thedas (except the dwarves, and we know why that is).

Atonement Solas' Promise: He (Still) Seeks Regeneration

We know that the Fade is the collective consciousness of the Titans. Their shared dreams. We also know that not all titans are blighted, because the one in Descent is not. Harding's titan also is not, by the end of DA:tV. I posit that this is why much of the Fade, according to Solas in DAI, is far preferable to the Nightmare's domain that we get to see in DAI. Some of that shared consciousness is still healthy.

Easing the titans' anger, therefore, means fixing all of the Fade. Reconnecting the two might mean that the collective consciousness between all spirits could return to Thedas—and since at least elves' and dwarves' souls likely come from the same origin, it could do a lot to bring some of the people of Thedas together.

This, to me, is part of Solas' grand plan. It is not only to bring back the world from Mythal's time—it is to bring back the world before they broke so much of it, before the titans were sundered by his hand. After all: Solas seeks... regeneration. And that's something he promises us after Mythal leaves.

It's important to me, therefore, that Solas says the blight can feel his presence during the fighting in Minrathous. Not that Elgar'nan can detect Solas through the blight, but that the blight itself can feel him. Neve/Bellara, depending on who is taken, can reach out to protect Solas the very same way: by communing with the blight itself, feeling what it wants, and redirecting its course. We see, here, a hivemind in action.

We also know that Atoned!Solas promises to "soothe the titans' anger." This is something he promises to do from Fade Jail, implying that he is able to interact with the titans and their anger from the Black/Golden City. This implies that the Fade itself, as a realm, is a means of communing with the titans, not just a specific spot within it.

The Veil coming down was always going to un-sunder the titans, and that was always one of the true aims of Solas' goals. Even if it meant blighting the world at first and effectively causing the apocalypse, the titans would eventually feel soothed. The Veil is a wound inflicted on this world, Solas has said before... and we know now that it was.

This section, short as it is, is just me telling you that Solas is still able to achieve those ends from Fade Jail. Just because the Veil is now bound to Solas' life force does not mean that the titans can no longer heal.

This buys us valuable time, allowing the titans' anger to soothe before their consciousness is restored, so that the transition is gentler. It promises hope for all of Thedas going forward. It might even promise a healthier, more stable Fade, shaped by dream, idea, and hope more than fear.

But what will that mean for future games? What could the Fade have to do with what's to come?

Why is now the time that the Executors and "those across the sea" want to make their big planned move on Thedas? Why is now when the "poison fruit" has ripened?

Like many of you, I hope to figure it out—and I feel that every day, I get closer.

Stay tuned. :)

___

If you read this far, you're a hero, now and always.

Like I keep saying: I have to absorb this lore day by day! I cannot inhale the entire wiki in a day, much as I'd like to believe I could! That means that future posts can't adhere to a strict schedule, as they depend on me unearthing enough codices, notes, and connecting threads to provide a post's worth of material.

In future, I'm hoping to learn more about: the Forgotten and Forbidden ones, as well as the connections between them; the Executors, those across the sea, and the connections between THEM; the areas across the sea; the Devouring Storm and what it could mean for Thedas' existence... and maybe how Ghilan'nain was ever connected to any of it.

Stick with me on this journey, if you like. It's fun to keep theorycrafting and yelling with you all. <3

[viperify]

Oneshots | ᴛᴏᴍᴀᴄᴏ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Escaping You.

Short summary: After spending incredibly tedious days alone in the cabin, they finally came back for another round. Though again, they disappeared in a hurry. Little did they know they left behind just what you needed…

Warnings: 18+ only! threesome, oral m!receiving, unprotected p in v, slight degradation

A/N: so sorry this took so long but every time I opened the document I questioned my sanity

wordcount: 2,2k

Read part 1 before!

It‘s been three days since they had left you behind in the cabin.

You paced around the room, panicking. After trying everything in your power to get out, you gave up, accepting your fate. If you had a wand, it would have been easy to get through the wards, but well, they took it from you. At least they were considerate enough not to let you starve. Three times a day a meal would appear on the wooden table next to the front door, and as soon you were finished the plate vanished.

Sadly enough, guessing what they would come up with next for you to eat was the most interesting part of the seemingly never-ending days. It was torture, really. There was nothing for you to do except either sit there or uselessly wander around the tiny space. Never had you imagined you would ever wish to read a book, but that was exactly what you craved most. Distraction. Anything.

Today‘s lunch consisted of pastries, some sort of bread with your favourite spread and–

You furrowed your eyebrows. How did they even know what your favourite was?

Shaking your head, you went on to finish your second meal of the day. It was not like you could ask them anyway.

Although you thought you had basically seen everything in the cabin, a strange looking wood panel caught your attention. It was just beneath one of the beds, barely peeking out. You quickly made your way towards it, and as you lifted the detached panel, a book and loose notes became visible. Quickly, you picked up what you had found and tried to make sense of it.

As you opened the book, you froze. Handwritten notes about Order member profiles, secret locations, frequently used spells and maps of Hogwarts were expertly put together on the paper. As you continued reading, more details came to light.

They knew everything.

Every single detail about Order movements, meetings, your research about Horcruxes… they had it all noted in that silly book. If they knew of all this, they could have erased the entire Order by now. The worst part was that you recognized Draco’s handwriting, meaning they must have gathered the information themselves. You shuddered as you flipped through the pages and you found a page which had your timetable on it, every single lesson you took accurately sketched out, as well as routes you normally took through the castle to get to the classrooms.

If they had done this for every Order member, you wouldn’t have been as creeped out, however it seemed to only be you who they made this effort for.

Someone from inside must have been leaking information, there was no way they could have found out all of this by themselves you thought. Just as you were about to study the notes, a loud creak of the front door had your head shoot up. Two familiar figures entered the cabin, taking off their masks on the way. You quickly tried to hide the notes, but it was too late.

“I thought you had learned your lesson about snooping around?” Tom asked, slowly making his way towards you.

“How did you get all this information and what do you need it for?”

The brunette’s mouth twitched, stopping right in front of you to take the books and notes from your hands. “That is none of your business, darling.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, lips trembling as you stood up, ready to confront them. His taller figure still towered over you, his piercing gaze meeting yours. The brunette’s expression was as always controlled, not a single emotion visible on his pale face.

“What did you think I was going to do? Sit there and reminisce about former times? Back when I wasn’t locked in this tiny cabin with nothing else to do? If you thought I would just give in after whatever happened between us, you are wrong. I will never defy the Order. Not until my very last breath.”

Your tone was sharp, drawing their attention to you. Tom turned around to face Draco as they exchanged a glance. “We thought you would say that. But as we said, you aren’t getting out of here. Not until it’s over.” The blonde said, coming closer as well.

As you were about to complain, the last sentence got caught in your head. You tilted your head, turning your attention to Draco, slowly walking towards him.

“Until what is over?” You questioned, voice controlled, barely above a whisper. Tom sighed defeatedly, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose, turning away from you two. “Malfoy, you are quite possibly the most stupid person I have ever had to work with.” He muttered under his breath, slowly shaking his head.

“Until what is over?” You repeated, eyes flickering between your capturers.

None of them were looking at you anymore though, Draco’s gaze was following Tom, who was pacing around the small cabin.

“Guys talk t-“ your attempt to speak was cut off by Tom swiftly locking his eyes with yours, approaching you. Taking a few steps backwards didn’t help, as you were stopped by the bed behind you. “You liked what we did, didn’t you? You enjoyed it?” He questioned calmly, his eyes staring right into yours, breath hot on your face.

As you didnt reply but rather avoid his strict expression, his hand wandered to your face, squeezing your cheeks almost painfully.

“Answer me.”

“Yes I did but-“ you complained, however  you were cut off again.

“Great. That’s all.” Tom loosened his grip, taking a step back with a sly grin on his face.

“You tell me what is going on. Why did you bring me here?” You hissed, though neither of them seemed to care. They were looking for something, and as they spotted one last sheet of paper you had managed to hide from them until that moment, the blonde snatched it, his lips perking up in a smile. “Got it.” He said, handing it over to Tom who also seemed satisfied.

You shook your head and huffed. “If I ever get out of here, you two should hope the Order show mercy. You have been spying on them for Merlin knows how long.”

“Order, Order, Order. It’s always just the Order with you, isn’t it? May I remind you of your blood status and who is in this very room with you?” Draco asked, though not necessarily in an offensive way, not like you were used to at least.

A scoff escaped your slightly parted lips as you shook your head in disbelief. “The Order is my family. However, I can’t help but ask myself,” your legs carrying you ever so slowly towards the blonde, “What would your dear families think of you getting with a muggle-born, hm?” Finally stopping in front of him, crossing your arms over your chest as you raised your eyebrows. Two pairs of eyes were now staring directly at you, the room having fallen into complete silence.

Draco closed the distance between you two, capturing you in a passionate kiss. Your first kiss together. His hand sneaked up to your neck, holding you close to him. “If you think we care about that you are mistaken.” He breathed, pulling away from you.

“We had an agreement, Malfoy” Tom warned, approaching you two.

“Tell her.”

The brunette‘s hand softly wrapped around your throat from behind, pressing his chest against your back as he leaned in, placing a small kiss on your ear. “This whole thing was never about the Order, darling.”

“A- About what is it then?” you breathed, tilting your head slightly as Tom trailed soft kisses down your neck.

“It has always been about you. Your safety.” Draco answered huskily, his lips meeting yours again before you had the chance to reply anything.

“You two are so infuriating.” You said as you broke apart.

“That’s why you love us.”

Soft moans escaped your mouth as the two Slytherins worked your body, the blonde ridding you of your trousers while Tom pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in your matching set of red underwear. “So pretty for us.” Draco encouraged, his hands roaming over your exposed skin, cupping your breasts over your lace bra at last, while Tom worked to open it. As soon as the material hit the ground, the blonde’s lips closed around your hardened peak, twirling his tongue around it before gently dragging his teeth over the sensitive skin. Tom’s hand travelled over your waist to your tummy, slipping inside your panties to find your swollen clit, drawing lazy circles on it.

Any doubt in your mind had long vanished, replaced by the pure bliss of pleasure spreading through your body. Just when you were about to reach your much needed release, your palm closing around around Tom’s arm as your head rested on his shoulder, the brunette withdrew his hand, leaving you teetering at the edge of your climax.

Your eyes fluttered open, a whimper falling over your lips at the loss of his touch. “Please” you whined, but as always, they didn’t listen to you.

“Patience is virtue, darling. Now, kneel for us.”

You did as you were told, sinking down on the cold wooden floor, eyes locking onto Draco. Excitement started rushing through you at the sight of your capturers, who stripped themselves of their black clothing, switching positions.

“It’s my turn try your sweet pussy today.” Draco murmured, lining himself up with your soaked entrance after collecting some of your slick. You both gasped as he slowly pushed his tip inside of you, stretching you just how you liked it. The brunette in the meanwhile watched you two hungrily, and just after you had adjusted to the blonde, Tom tapped his cock against your plump lips. Your eyes met his, your tongue swiping over your lips seductively. The brunette’s brows furrowed slightly as he watched you, all while getting fucked by the other Slytherin. “Dirty girl. Come on, open up now. Let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours.”

You stuck your tongue out, letting him slide his hard length past your lips. Just about over halfway in, he hit the back of your throat, having you gag around him. “Open up wider, slut. I know you can. Saw it last time.”

It took a few thrusts until both Slytherin’s had set a steady rhythm, Draco’s cock pushing into you from the perfect angle which had you seeing stars, while Tom mercilessly thrusted into your mouth, using hid grip on your hair as leverage. “Such a good girl for us. Doing so well.” The blonde cooed, fingertips digging into the flesh of your hips as he sped up, his tip kissing your cervix with almost every thrust. “You like this, don’t you?”

“Mmhm-“ you agreed best you could as the lewd sounds of Tom hitting the back of your throat filled the cabin. Dissatisfied with your reply his fingers tangled in your curls, pulling you off his cock, a string of saliva connecting to your lips. “Answer him properly” he demanded, his darkened eyes staring back at yours.

“Y-Yes I do! I love it!” You blurt out, groaning when the blonde’s hand sneaked towards your clit to rub on it. “That’s right, good girl.” Tom growled, pushing back into you.

Your hips moved back against Draco’s for extra friction, feeling the waves of your high about to break the dam that had been holding it back for so long, eager to find release.

Both of their arms jerked back with a hiss and they exchanged a glance, halting their movements. “Why did you stop?“ you blinked a few times, the feeling in your lower stomach slowly fading.

“I fear we have to go. So sorry, love. We will make it up to you, I promise.” Draco explained, getting up. They dressed themselves in a hurry, not paying you any more attention.

“You can’t be serious. Stay! Don’t even think about leaving me here again!” You yelled, however both of them had already put on their coats, exiting the cabin at once.

The door was locked. They had left you behind yet again.

You sank down against the door, exhaling sharply. Your eyes roamed around the place, and just as you were about to get up to dress yourself, you spotted something familiar. It was your wand, which they had apparently lost in their hurry. Quickly you got dressed and picked up your wand, feeling relieved to finally have it back.

With the help of some spells, you were able to work your way through the wards, and the door opened. A smile formed on your face at the first breath of fresh air in days. You contemplated leaving behind a note but decided against it. If they weren’t going to tell you why it was important to stay in the cabin, you wouldn’t. The Order needed you.

You made your way out of the small hut, checking whether it was safe.

Then, you ran.

Tagging a few people who wanted a pt 2:

@leviathans-fish @grandeoatmilklatte @shinytalent @noisytravelerpizza @iwasalloverhimmmm

I hope it isn’t too disappointing. I had an idea when I posted pt 1 but I scrapped that and writing this was a STRUGGLE lmao.

[yellowjestertfs]

Altered State: Part 1

IDK if anyone on here will be interested in this story, its kind of a long and slower but thought I would post it anyways. More parts coming next week!

Most great adventures start with a call to arms, a quest from on high, a declaration of purpose to serve the greater good. Edward’s and Leon’s started with a question asked through a mouthful of chips.

“Wanna play this new game dude?” Leon asked words barely intelligible. He stood in the doorway of their living room, his fat frame blocking most of the light. In one hand he held a bag of chips and in the other, he held up an unfamiliar battered keep case, the type that held video game disks inside. The thing had a red and blue design that Edward didn't recognize. 

“I guess. What is that thing, will it work on my Wii?” Edward asked. He lay on the couch, long thin body taking up the whole thing but sat up and moved over to make room for his roommate. 

Leon shook his head “I don’t think so dude, it's like super retro.” He walked over to the TV and started fiddling with the row of older consoles that belonged to their third roommate Alvis trying to see if any could accommodate the game. "It was free though." He said as he found the right one, an extremely retro blocky thing Edward was surprised even accepted disks. Leon booted up the system, the familiar hum of the machine filling the space. “I got it from that comic shop down the street. This buff dude at the counter just handed it to me. Said he thought I would put it to good use.”

“Alvis would kill you if he knew you were touching that,” Edward warned, always the one to show more caution. 

“Fuck Alvis. If he didn't want it to be used he shouldn’t have bought it” Leon countered. Neither of the two were particularly big fans of their other roommate, but Leon especially hated his guts. He only let the guy live with them because it made the rent cheaper and because Alvis’ weird retro tech fit in with their decor of half-finished Lego sets, empty pizza boxes, and superhero posters, and because for the most part, Alvis left the two friends alone, spending all his time in the engineering building or fiddling with tech in his room.

Leon opened the case and took out a dusty disk, growing on it to reveal the title “Altered State” and the manufacturer HunkTech, neither of which either Leon or Edward had ever heard of. Leon put the game back into Alvis’s video game console and pressed play. The TV flickered for a moment, then exploded with color so bright it forced both of them to squint. Flashes of neon light, strange symbols, and spinning images seared into their eyes, leaving dancing after images. Neither of the friends could look away, their senses overwhelmed by the pulsating lights that burned into the back of their brains. And just as suddenly as it started, the TV went black and both friends came back to themselves.

“Oh shit" Edward muttered, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. "Your game just fried the TV!Alvis is going to kill you.”

Leon opened his mouth to defend himself but before he could a green holographic display blinked into existence, floating in the air right in front of him. Growing text marched across the living room floor reading:

"Welcome to Altered State.”

Leon’s jaw dropped. "Uh, Ed? You seeing this?”

Edward stood motionless for a moment too shocked to speak. “What the fuck” he breathed “What's going on?”

Both of their holograms shifted to display naked, pixelated 3D models of the two friends, hanging awkwardly in midair. 

“Eww, what the hell,” Leon said. He tried to avert his gaze but the images followed the motion of his head and stayed even when he shut his eyes. 

Neither of the projections was a particularly flattering sight to behold.  Leon’s short, heavy frame was rendered in painful detail—his soft belly, narrow shoulders, pudgy limbs, and average penis were all fully extenuated under the brutally detailed holographic projection. Edward’s model didn’t fare any better. Tall and spindly, his twig-like arms and knobby knees, paired with a notoriously ugly face, gave him the appearance of a scarecrow. Edward was not helped much in its attractiveness by the acne on his face, the greasy thin hair on his head, and the pitifully small penis between his legs fully visible in the naked light of the hologram. 

“Your the one with your dick in my face.” Edward shot back, cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the display.  

The hologram flickered again, and new text appeared below both their models:

Analyzing subjects…

The text began to blink as new displays blinked into existence on the peripheral of both their vision, only really notable if focused on. Various menus that displayed statistics quests and a list perks were all there, though all were currently blank. The words level one along with an empty an empty progress bar beneath appeared at the top of their filed of view, though only visible to themselves and not the other. 

Neither of the two friends had time to examine the new features in detail as the words under their models shifted again.

“Analyzing Purpose: Class Selection”

"Class selected: Juggernaut.” Appeared under Leon’s character. 

Leon blinked. "Juggernaut?" he repeated, unsure what to make of the development.

Edward snickered, “I think that's the fantasy term for fatty.”

But before Leon could respond, Edward’s display changed too:

"Class selected: Snake Charmer.”

“What like I’m going to play the flute?” Edward asked.

It was Leon's turn to laugh. “No bro, the game just called you a homo.” 

It took Edward a second to understand. “Not funny,” he said swatting his best friend on the arm, blushing somehow harder. “This is seriously messed up. We need to go to the hospital or something.”

“Relax charmochondriac, don't you see what’s happening?” 

“Group psychosis?” Edward guessed.

“No dude, we are in a video game, and we fucking rule at video games.”

“Leon” Edward said warningly. Before he could say more though quests populated onto both their displays.

“Dude chill this is awesome. My first quest is easy too. I bet I can get level ten before you.”

Edward wasn’t as ready to accept this rapid series of unexplainable events but he also wasn’t ready to let his best friend think he was a chicken. “Fine. I’ll meet you back at the house when I kick your ass.”

Leon laughed and with that both boys raced out the door, shoving each other playfully to get out first. From there both took off to opposite sides of campus, towards their various objectives and their differing yet intimately intertwined destinies. 

-

Leon raced, or his version which was something between a fast walk and an awkward jog, across campus to his first quest. It seemed easy enough: “Go to the gym” it read. Leon wasn’t exactly one for physical fitness but he at least knew where the health center was from campus orientation tour.

Despite his slow pace by the time he reached it he was out of breath. For a moment he stood in front of automatic double doors, panting and intimidated. He stuck out like a sore thumb on this part of campus, dressed in the ratty strained Superman shirt and baggy shorts his protruding belly and wild unkempt hair stood in stark contrast to the muscular adonis in low tank tops and tall fit women in matching sports sets who brushed by him without a second thought. Mustering his courage Leon walked through the doors and into the gym. His ears were greeted by the sound of slamming weights, rhythmic grunts, and a small ding as he completed his first quest and leveled up. He watched as the experience bar filled fully, bumping his level up to two and filling his vision with notifications. The bar continued to fill until it had reached halfway to the next level. A notification appeared in a gray box with plain white blocky text.

You have reached level two. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Strength, +1 Charisma +0.3 Intelligence.

Leon grinned as he felt himself change. He couldn’t actually feel himself getting smarter or more charismatic. He wasn't sure if that was because those were more cognitive stats or if it was because the increase was marginal compared to his strength. Either way, it was a strength that Leon felt himself receive. It wasn't much. Leon didn’t suddenly become a hulk or a bodybuilder but he felt something shift. His shoulders widened slightly, his chest inflated a bit and his butt became less saggy. A single vein buried deep in the layers of fat in his arm engorged itself with blood and snaked its way to the surface, pushed upwards by growing muscle and diminishing fat. He felt physically stronger, faster, like he might be able to actually run a bit without throwing up. He didn't actually look all that different, a quarter of an inch taller, a few pounds shifted from fat to muscle, but inside he felt amazing, electric, like this is what he was made for. Leon suspected that feeling had to do with the other notification waiting for him just below the first.

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Gym Rat: as a juggernaut, you feel comfortable in all athletic spaces.”

Leon felt all his worries and insecurities about being in the gym fade away. He scanned his student ID and strode past the muscled jock at the front counter confidently, flashing him a smile and a slight wave. Leon felt just as comfortable in the gym as if he was at the comic book shop, no more, he felt like he was at home chilling with Edward, like he could do anything and give a damn about who judged him. Leon knew he should be concerned about how this game had physically changed his body and mind so easily but he was too invigorated, too electrified, and he had another quest to do. 

“Do a push-up.” It read simply. 

Leon hadn’t tried to do a push-up since 8th grade gym class but he felt confident he was capable of it with the boost to strength he had received. Leon weaved through the various machines and stations manned by the university’s resident hunks and athletes, some gave him dirty looks but most looked right through him. Leon found he couldn’t care less. He found a corner of the free mat and assumed the push-up position. Despite the recent slight boost to his athleticism, it was a task easier said than done. Leon went down as far as he could until he felt his arms begin to shake, about an inch, then pushed himself up with substantial effort.

To his disappointment, the quest still read as incomplete. He reasoned it must be due to his, form. He tried to go lower but ended up face-first on the mat, unable to push himself up. He went to his knees and did a push-up but that didn’t count either. Nor did a push-up with his butt out in the air, or one in which he rested on the ground for a few seconds in the middle. Leon was about to give up when he saw a guy around his age approach. 

He didn't have the same gorilla bulk as some of the huge men in the gym but his body was visibly lean and defined through his tee-shirt, maybe a runner. “Need any help there” he asked. Leon couldn’t tell if he was being genuine or mocking but his new total comfort in the gym provided by his “Gym Rat” perk made him not care. 

“I’m trying to do a push-up.”

“Just one?” The guy asked with a grin. 

“Gotta start somewhere,” Leon said humbly. 

“Your problem is your stance.” He said. He instructed Leon to assume the plank position and then went about correcting Leon’s form. His arms were too close together, his core was not properly engaged, back not fully straight. The man introduced himself as Cal and then instructed Leon to try again. Leon tried another pushup lowering his body slowly “Lower, lower” Cal called Leon and complied though his face turned red and he wanted to die. Cal didn't let him stop till the tip of his dick was practically touching the mat. Then he went back up, slowly and with more exertion than he had ever used in his whole life. 

He was rewarded with a ding and a slew of notifications. 

“You have reached level three. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Strength, +1 Charisma +0.3 Intelligence.” 

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Perfect Form: as a juggernaut, you instinctually know the proper form to maximize the performance of any athletic endeavor.”

Leon felt his body shift again from where it lay crumpled on the mat. His stomach deflated slightly, and under his man boobs pecs started to form. His legs lengthened a bit causing his shorts to only reach his knees instead of past them. The changes were as small as the first but Leon couldn’t help but feel amazed. He tried to do another push-up and found that his body now naturally assumed the perfect position without him having to think about it. With his new points in strength, he was able to push out another perfect military-style push-up, and two more before he flopped down onto the mat, fully spent.

“You're getting the hang of it,” Cal said smiling. If he had seen Leon's body change he made no indication. “good luck on your workout,” he called out as he left.

“Yeah see you around man” Leon called after him. He felt on cloud nine. At this rate, Leon would reach level 10 by the hour. On cue, two more quests appeared for him to complete. He wondered how Edward was doing, if he had even gained one level by now. Maybe once Leon had power gamed his way into OP status he could help his friend with a quest or two. 

-

Edward walked across the quad at a brisk pace. He would have run if his bony arms and legs didn't make him look like a chicken when he did. Edward wasn’t quite as sold on this whole bizarre real life video game thing as Leon was but he also wasn’t about to let Leon leave him in the dust. Edward's first quest was pretty simple if non-specific, “be within 50 feet of 30 or more people”. 

Edwards tendency to avoid large crowds gave him the advantage of knowing exactly where they often were. The coffee shop by the quad came right to his mind. At this time of the day, the place was packed with students either leaving or going to their mid-day classes. The place terrified Edward, the thought of so many eyes on him, judging him, mocking him, and yet Edward reasoned there was no harm in at least checking the place out, it not as if the quest required him to talk to anyone. 

As he walked Edward wondered at the game. Leon, true to self had accepted the game right away without question. If his friend was muscular instead of fat he might be called a himbo. It wasn’t that he was dumb, he was getting a degree in public health, but he also didn't have a habit of thinking things through particularly throughly. Their freshmen year Leon had built a glider out of the shower curtain and broke his arm jumping off the second floor of their dorm with it. And last year Leon had thought it was a good idea to subscribe to some shady porn website that had given his computer a virus so corruptive even tech wizard Alvis couldn’t remove it. 

Though they were inseparable best friend Edward was the opposite. He was much more cautious about everything, sometimes to irrational extremes. Last semester Edward had almost dropped out because he was too nervous to get approval for his classes from his sociology advisor. If he was scared of his sixty-five year old sweet as candy professor talking to guys he liked was surly out of the question, not that he would have any hope of success with his appearance. 

As Edward walked across the quad he avoided eye contact with students crowded onto the open green sitting and chatting or throwing frisbees. Edward felt drowned in the sea of people, though the lawn wasn’t nearly dense enough to fulfill the quest. 

The line for the coffee shop was out the door which made him want to throw up. He walked slowly forward waiting for the quest to complete. Finally, when he was only a few feet away, practically in line the quest was fulfilled and his experience bar to level two filled fully.

Edward heard a “ding” in his head and several notifications filled his vision startling him.  

“You have reached level two. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Charisma, +1 Intelligence +0.3 Strength.”

“You have gained a class perk.”

“People Person: Those around you feel your natural charm and are more likely to accept you in a neutral or positive way, potentially even striking up a conversation.”

Edward felt a strange itch on his brow and a pressure on his jaw but ignored it. He didn't know what to make of the messages. The stats seemed somewhat consistent with role-playing video games, and he supposed the break down made sense with his class. Still, he wasn’t sure how something like charisma would be incorporated into real life, nor his new People Person perk. As a sociology major Edward knew all too well how complex human interaction was. The perk seemed to imply that not only would the game be changing him but also the people around him and their perceptions. He wasn’t sure if that was even possible not to mention ethical.

“Introduce yourself to a stranger,” the next quest said popping up on the side of Edward's vision. That more than any ethical quandary made Edward scared. It was all well and good for the game to claim that people would react positively to Edward but he knew firsthand that wasn’t true. 

“Hey, are you in line” two girls who had walked up behind him asked. Edward froze, realizing he had positioned himself at an awkward spot half in line half not. The girls didn't seem disgusted by his presence but they also didn't seem particularly enthralled, they just wanted to get their coffee. 

Edward nodded his head, the best he could do with his crippling social anxiety. He moved more obviously in line and the girl went back to chatting. As the line crept closer Edward tried and failed several times to work up the courage to introduce himself to the girls. He came up with various scenarios in his head of how he could make an introduction, all of which ended with the girl calling him a creep. 

Finally, after ten minutes, Edward reached the front of the line. He realized in his attempts to complete the quest he hadn’t so much as glanced at the menu. 

“What will you be having today” a tall tan worker asked, his tattooed arms pleasantly stretching out the sleeves of his shirt. Edward just opened and closed his mouth like a fish, mind suddenly blank of every coffee drink ever, including coffee. 

The worker, whose name tag ironically read “Tag” saw his confusion and smiled. “It's a big menu I know. It's fall, so you can never go wrong with a PSL.” He saw Edwards look confused and he sheepishly clarified “Pumpkin spice latte.”

“I’ll do that,” Edward said, voice quiet but clear. He took a deep breath then before he could think about it blurted out “I’m Edward by the way”. 

Tag gave a handsome grin and wrote the name on a cup. “Thanks, Edward, I’ll that get you out for you right away.”

Edward heard a “ding” but ignored it and the notifications that popped up as he paid on the tablet Tag turned towards him. His hands shook as he selected the largest tip options and stumbled over to the designated area to stand while waiting for a drink and looked at the notifications. 

“You have reached level three. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Charisma, +1 Intelligence, +0.3 Strength.”

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Social Sync: You are naturally attuned to the tone and rhythm of conversation making awkward pauses and interruptions a thing of the past.”

New quests popped up as well, two this time. “Make someone laugh” and “Offer someone advice.”

As the messages appeared Edward felt the same strange pain in his face, like the soreness he sometimes got after smiling all day with Leon. He lifted a hand to his face and felt skin much smoother than his normal rough, dry, pockmarked complexion. His weak chin, which had always been a source of insecurity no longer felt totally concave but pushed out somewhat lending a strange sharpness to his jaw. Edward was about to take out his phone to examine his reflection when he heard a voice beside him. 

“He’s so dreamy, isn’t he,” a man said in his right ear. All his life Edward had been painfully scrawny, wrists the size of cucumber and ribs showing through his pale skin. This man was even more slender like he could break with a strong gust of wind. He held a coffee cup that had the name Trent on the side. The guy didn't seem to mind Edwards's silence and continued staring at Tag longingly. “The coffee here is so bitter but the eye candy is so sweet” he mused. 

“Yeah that guy is what I would call a full-sized candy bar” the comment came out before Edward had time to think. It was a mediocre joke, wordy and unoriginal to a fault, but to painfully shy and unfunny Edward he felt like he was a standup comedian. Trent smiled and gave a slight chuckle, though his quest remained incomplete, probably because the laugh was fake.

“He’s a Snickers, and let's just say I’m not allergic to nuts.” Edward tried again, this time eliciting a better reaction from Trent. A slight giggle was all it took for the quest to complete and Edwards' experience bar to increase half the way to level four. 

“Well both of us are going to go hungry. He’s straight.”

“Really” Edward asked. As a closeted gay until he was 19, when he had finally worked up the courage to tell Leon, Edward thought he had pretty good gaydar, and that Tag guy was anything but straight. “How do you know?” He asked Social Sync perk causing him to put the perfect pause between his declaration of doubt and his question without him even noticing.

“He used to date some girl” Trent responded with a touch of disgust.

“Maybe he’s bi,” Edward said and Trent’s face lit up as if he had never considered the thought.

“Oh wow, do you really think so” He asked excitedly. “Now that you say it he is kind of flirty when he gives me my drink.”

“You should just go up and talk to him” Edward advised sagely. “I mean what is the worst that could happen.” The advice was hollow seeing as how Edward had never even breathed in the direction of any of his crushes. Trent seemed to sense this and looked at Edward dubiously. The game system however didn't seem to care. It marked his “give advice” quest as complete and alerted him he had reached level four with a ding. At this rate, Leon didn't stand a chance of reaching level ten before him. 

“You have reached level four. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Charisma, +1 Intelligence, +0.3 Strength.”

“Sage: Your charisma gives you an innate knowledge of people's desires, both conscious and unconscious. Note: The higher your charisma the more attuned this sense becomes. Note: this effect is 92.22% more effective on people with a penis.”

Edward felt a shift both in his physiology and in his brain, like before he felt his face move, bones like continental plates drifting every so slightly apart into a more attractive configuration. 

Inside his head, he felt something shift far more drastically. The three +1 boosts to his intelligence had been so slight he barely noticed them, just a slight speeding up of his thoughts and a boost to his reasoning ability. This new change in his mind was drastic, impossible not to notice. A sixth sense emerged, filling his head with a source of knowledge he wasn’t quite sure what to do with. It was almost as if he had gained the ability to read minds only not so strong and without any words, only feelings. Suddenly Edward felt Trent’s desire, a sexual one, not just for the barista, but also for the group of frat boys in the corner of the shop and strangely enough for Edward. He felt others' desires too, though much less clearly. 

Two guys standing to his left both hoped the other would buy the alcohol for tonight's party. The other men in the shop only gave wisps of desire. Edward suspected that had something to do with proximity and his still relatively low charisma.

The women on the other hand Edward could barely sense, only receiving a small tingle like TV static instead of anything readable. Edward wondered at that strange 92.22% bonus towards men. Edward took a moment to reflect on the class he had been assigned. Could Leon be right? Could the name of his class be a gay joke, that he was meant to charm not venomous creatures in baskets but instead the snake in men's pants? It seemed somehow too vulgar for a video game though Edward knew that was illogical. If it was true it begged some concerning questions, like how the game had known he was gay and what exactly it was setting him up to do. 

“Would you go talk to him?” Trent asked suddenly snapping Edward back to the present. His sixth sense faded to the back of his mind, though he could still sense Trent’s desire. “Sorry I know that's a lot to ask but I think you would have more luck than me.” He looked at Edward with puppy dog eyes filled with earnest hope. “Be my wingman?”

A notification appeared obscuring a part of Edward’s vision. 

“Quest offered! Set up Trent and Tag romantically. Reward: XP”

A box under the quest notification had two boxes with “yes” and “no” options. Edward had no idea how to select either option. Out loud he said “I’ll do my best,” the notification disappeared and reappeared small in the quest part of his interface. 

Trent smiled “Really? I can’t thank you enough.” He felt Trent’s desire shift from lust to hope. “Just like using a pickup line or something. Don’t make it too awkward” he said suddenly nervous.

“Don’t worry I got this,” Edward said with about 1000% times more confidence than he felt. He had absolutely no business getting other people's tail when he was still a virgin himself. Edward just knew he was going to make an absolute fool of himself.

-

It turned out that the quests to advance to level four were not as easy as Leon had imagined. The first quest “run a lap” proved exhausting but doable. Leon made his way to the elevated track that encircled the gym and with perfect form, if less perfect endurance, ran the loop. Before the game, Leon would have had to walk most of it, but the two levels and six points he had gained in strength allowed him to push through with a slow jog. The quest's completion bumped him 3/4 of the way to level four. He had no doubt the other quest would get him all the way there if only it was possible. 

“Do a pull-up.” How hard could one pull up be? Extremely difficult it turned out. Dangling from the elevated bar Leon tried with all his might to heft his flabby body up. He only managed to lift his head halfway before the effort became too much and he was forced to give up. 

Leon knew it wasn’t his form keeping him from completing the exercise like it had been with the push-up. Instead, it came down to a plain and simple lack of strength. Leon didn't know what to do. He felt frustrated that he had hit a roadblock so soon. He looked at the experience progress bar, so tantalizingly close to the next level. Maybe he would have to do it the old-fashioned way. Train his back and his biceps extensively until he could do a pull-up on his own. Leon knew something like that would take weeks if not months but he was nothing if not stubborn.

Determined not to give up Leon found a set of dumbbells and began to lift with perfect form. The activity didn't provide the same instant gratification as leveling up did, but Leon was starting to understand how people could get addicted to this. As he worked his eyes wandered to the graphical display imprinted on either side of his vision. He found he could unfocus on the information and the display would blur unobscuring his vision. He focused again and the quest and progress bar came back into his field of vision. Leon couldn’t tell if he was imagining it but it seemed as if the bar was more full. He did a few more curls and watched the progress bar tick up the tiniest amount. He lifted the other arm and it moved again. He grabbed the largest weight he could conceivably lift and using all this strength curled it with both arms, the progress bar moved, still not much but more than before. Leon grinned. He was pretty sure he had just found an exploit.

Thirty minutes later a tired Leon prepared for his last set of leg presses to get him to level four. The “exploit” he had found wasn’t as much of a hack as he had originally hoped. Working out gave him experience to fill the bar but not nearly as efficiently as quests. He had to go from machine to machine loading up the maximum amount of weight he could lift, not much, and completing various exercises until that part of his body was completely exhausted. His “perfect form” perk ensured that he was able to complete each exercise to its fullest despite not knowing how to do any of the exercises. All he had to do was approach a machine or a set of weights and his body would suddenly assume the position.

Even with his perfect form protecting him from injury Leon was exhausted. The day's gym session was more exercise than he had ever done in his life. His hair was matted to his forehead and dark sweat spots had appeared around the collar and pits of his Superman shirt. His body felt like a sack of bricks like he could fall asleep and not wake up till his next birthday. Leon persisted and as he performed his tenth leg press he heard a ding. His legs slammed back to their resting position and he breathed heavily, feeling his body begin to change and notifications pop up. 

“You have reached level four. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Strength, +1 Charisma +0.3 Intelligence.” 

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Animal Endurance: The rate at which athletic activities tire you is decreased significantly while the rate of recovery is greatly improved. Note: the potency of this effect scales off of strength.”

Leon felt his muscles harden, his arms bulge, his legs bulk up and shift. His core burned as his abs shredded themselves and strengthened. The layer of fat on Leon’s body, though still present thinned. Underneath it his muscles went from average to distinctly fit, no great titan yet but also not a slouch either. His weariness from all the exercise it took to reach level four drained away thanks to his perk and Leon once again felt reinvigorated. 

He marched over to the nearest pull-up bar and with only a small amount of effort hoisted himself up with the power of his upper body. The completed quest brought him a third of the way up to level five. Two more quests appeared. “Bench press a third of your body weight.” And “exchange workout tips”. Neither seemed especially difficult. 

Leon looked around to see if he could find Cal to knock out the more social of the quests but the helpful runner was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Leon found a benchpress machine and went to load it up. Leon was shocked to realize he had no idea what his body weight was. Before Altered Reality, Leon had weighed 230 pounds, now though he could be anything. Leon squinted at the holographic display in the sides of his vision and found with effort he was able to bring up a stats page. 

Leon: 

210 Pounds

5’10’’ Feet

Strength: 11

Charisma: 7

Intelligence: 8.9

When he played video games with his roommates Alvis was the one who focused on the numbers, min-maxing his character to be the strongest possible. Edward liked to talk to the NPCs, to understand the story, and Leon, well Leon liked to punch things and not worry too much about the boring stuff. Still, with his 8.9 in intelligence, Leon couldn't help but notice some changes to his body composition. There was the inch in height his body had gained from those three levels and the twenty pounds of weight he had lost. Leon suspected the total loss was more like 30 or 40 pounds of fat but that the added muscle made up the difference. His stats were interesting too. Leon hadn’t much thought about it but based on the quests and perks he had received the Juggernaut class seemed to be one that focused on athleticism. Despite that, he still received a marginal boost to charisma and intelligence at each level which he supposed were meant to keep him well rounded. Leon did the math, the current numbers would mean that his intelligence before the game had been eight, which seemed right, and his strength a two, also unfortunately right. The four in charisma seemed rude, but Leon supposed he had never had much luck with women for a reason.

Doing math once again Leon loaded up the bench press, factoring in the weight of the bar to reach seventy pounds one-third of his weight. He assumed the position under it, with perfect form thanks to his perk; then with substantial effort, Leon lifted the bar over his chest and with as much control as he could manage lowered it. That was the easy part, the hard part was pushing it back up. Leon clenched his toes, bugged his eyes, and pushed with all his eleven strength upward. His mind suddenly flashed to the bar crushing him, rolling down onto his neck and ending this game. Panic more than determination got the bar up and back to its starting position. The quest was completed and the progress bar to level five was filled in another third. 

Only once the bar was fully returned to its resting position could Leon see the girl standing over him, upside down from his prone view. 

“I was ready to pull that thing off you.” The girl said in something between a mix of condescension and admiration. Leon sat up.

“Umm, thanks.” He said nervously. He recognized this girl from his advanced biology seminar, although she didn't seem to know him. She looked very pretty with her high ponytail and tight yoga pants, which only made his voice stutter more. “I’m Leon.”

“Cassy,” she said.

An idea came to his mind. “Got any tips for this one?” Leon asked, hoping to knock out his remaining quest. 

Before Cassy could answer though a tall man in a low-cut tank top that showed off his ripped torso and cannonball shoulders approached and wrapped his mammoth vascular arms around her. “Cassy, why the fuck are you talking to this fatty?” He asked as if Leon were some flaming garbage outside his window, offensive to his sight. Leon recognized him as a member of Alpha Sigma, one of the best and most dickish fraternities on campus.  

“Fuck off Hunter” Cassy said rolling her eyes.

“Yeah fuck off Hunter” Leon repeated. He instantly regretted it.

Hunter's eyes went wide, and a vein on his neck began to pulse. Leon stared back at him with a level of defiance he knew defied both the social order and logic. Leon had always been brash, a trait now manifested in full force by the extreme comfort he felt in the gym due to his Gym Rat perk.

Cassy shot him a look asking if he was trying to get himself killed then turned to Hunter to defuse the situation. “Come on babe let's go.” 

Hunter heard none of it. He got right up in Leon's face so close Leon could smell the sweat on his body and the ZYN in his breath. “Listen here tubby, this is a gym. The McDonalds is down the street. Now fuck off or I’ll turn your happy meal into chicken tenders. Ya hear?” He stood up and started to walk away Cassy unhappily following after him. “And don’t ever talk to my girl again homo.”

Leon knew he should be scared but instead, he found the whole interaction funny, his “Gym Rat” perk really might be working too well. “Got any gym tips for me” he called after Hunter, wanting to still get something out of the interaction. He couldn’t wait till he was bigger than that arrogant prick and no one could talk to him that way.

The frat bro turned around “Eat a fucking salad” he called. Leon’s last quest remained incomplete. He wondered why for a second then realized it said “exchange workout tips.” 

“You should really get off the roids, it's killing the last two of your brain cells,” Leon called after him. Hunter moved to turn around, probably to beat the shit out of Leon but Cassy grabbed his hand and dragged him away. The quest completed and Leon reached level five. Not too bad for seven charisma he thought proudly. The now familiar ding sounded along with a wall of notifications. Leon began to feel strange. A biting ache began to thrum in the pit of his stomach. Doubled over Leon rushed to the bathroom, careful to head in in the opposite direction of Hunter and Cassy. 

He burst into the empty men's room and then into the nearest stall he could find. As he sat on the toilet the pain intensified. Something was happening and it hurt like all hell.

-

Edward had no idea why Trent had even started talking to him. That wasn’t something people ever did to ugly Edward, maybe point and whisper, but never strike up a conversation and surly never ask him for help. It must be his stupid charisma and perks scrambling everyone's brain he concluded. Edward was about to turn back to Trent and tell him he had made a mistake and that he actually couldn’t help him when he heard “Edward” yell from behind the bar. He saw Tag the sexy fit barista holding a steaming to-go cup and looking around the coffee shop for Edward. Trent gave him an encouraging smile and a thumbs up.

Edward felt as if he was moving in slow motion like he was making his way to the gallows. Tag saw him coming and smiled, extending the drink towards him. Edward reached out to take the drink, his finger ever so slightly brushing up against Tag’s hand in the process. He wasn’t sure if it was the touch or just the proximity but he felt his new “Sage” perk activate in vivid detail.

A picture suddenly flashed in Edward’s mind. A subterranean location full of flashing lights and loud rhythmic music, a rave Edward realized. He saw Tag standing alone in an open button-down shirt showing off sexy tattooed muscles. Edward flashed back to reality. His sudden vision had caused him to linger a bit too long grabbing his drink and he jerked his hand away awkwardly. 

Edward retracted his hand and gave a smile hoping to save the moment. “Hey, are you going to the rave tonight?” Edward asked as casually as he could “I think I have seen you at a few before. I heard the one tonight is supposed to be especially hype.”

Tag seemed surprised for a moment then reassessed Edward his demeanor shifting from customer service friendly, to peer in-group easygoing. “You mean sewer fest? I want to man, but all my friends are busy tonight and I don’t want to go alone.”

“Oh damn that sucks,” Edward said. He was mindful of the stares he was getting from the other students around him but couldn’t bring himself to care, this was going too well. “I wish I could go but I have a paper I have to write tonight. My friend Trent was actually just saying he was thinking about going though.” Edward pointed back at Trent who gave a little wave. 

“Oh, I know him.” Tag said when he saw Trent. “That would be sick man. I really don’t want to miss Sewer Fest. How about this,” he took a cup sleeve and started to write on it, “Give your friend my number and tell him to text me” he handed it to Edward. 

“Will do. You two have fun” Edward said as he walked away. Trent looked at him wide-eyed and was about to say something but Edward made a signal that they shouldn’t talk about it inside.

“This is for you,” Edward said as he handed Trent Tag’s number once they were outside. 

“No way. You're actually a god. How did you do that?” Trent asked amazed.

“Don’t get too excited,” Edward said sheepishly. “You're going to a rave, and it’s in the sewer.” 

“A rave? You know what, I’ll take it. I really can’t thank you enough.” 

“Oh, it was nothing. Honestly, you helped me just as much as I helped you.”

Trent ignored the cryptic comment. “Well I should go, I guess I have to find an outfit to wear to a sewer. Would all white be a bad idea?” He handed Edward his phone. “Will you put your number in my phone? I’ll text you how tonight goes.” 

The two exchanged information then Trent left. Edward stood there sipping his latte, which really was too bitter. He saw Trent typing out a message on his phone as he walked away.

Moments later Edward heard a “ding” as the quest was completed and he reached level five. Notifications sprung up in his vision, more than usual. Edward couldn’t read them, he couldn’t focus on anything. His mostly full coffee slipped out of his hand and spilled onto the ground as a golden nebula sprung up around him and his face and body were wracked with pain. He started to scream.