#Also blocking people has nothing to do with me being high or mighty

[godshideouscreation]

“I just blocked a ridiculous amount of new blogs following me who can't read the rules of my page! Even if your page looks like you're an adult, I'm blocking you if you have not listed what your age is. 🙃 “

Who gives a flying fuck?!?! You act like blocking blogs makes you all high and mighty. We can still look at your blubbery ass!

So so many hot chicks on tumblr, you’re definitely not one of them!

Just wondering how long you waited to send me this message, like truly how long have you been hate following me waiting for me to turn anonymous back on. 🤣 If you don't like me you can always keep scrolling. The only person forcing you to stay on my page is you, and it's pathetic. If you honestly think you can bully somebody anonymously, I've already won. You're scared of me. 😘

[eluxcastar]

One of Repetition — Prologue

── ୨୧：arlecchino x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: your sudden dismissal from your position of harbinger, and the fatui as a whole, marks the end of the largest chapter in your life. you had never known a day without the tsaritsa's guidance, and you are set to never know another with it.

୨୧﹑genre :: angst

୨୧﹑content :: fem reader, reader is a harbinger, reader has a pyro vision, capitano is still not human and I haven't played fontaine or natlan ngl, possible ooc, not proofread but lightly edited

୨୧﹑words :: 6.5k

it only took me forever and a day. it's finally here being rewritten this is gonna take so long updates WILL be slow so you're gonna have to bear with me

CROSSPOSTED ON AO3

Her words left you exasperated, literally at a loss for words, and you struggled to comprehend the reason for it. There was nothing you could think of, no instance that struck you as prominent. Yet, somehow, as one of the Tsaritsa's children, you had become what any parent might refer to simply as a disappointment, their failure—the problem child who never quite ironed out their issues. You had always been faithful to her, hopelessly devoted to the archon and her will. News such as this came out of nowhere and struck you like a hammer to the chest.

Effective immediately, you are to be stripped of your title.

Two of her most mighty children were near and dear to her, and now the other had turned against you as he remains loyal to her. The Jester, who you once held in high regard, has turned against you. It is a bitter pill to swallow, for you must now sever ties with the one man you believed was truly deserving of serving the Tsaritsa. Your mother—your world—turns against you with him, before him, leading the way for him. 

In vain, you draw your bow to strike an arrow between his eyes. You have to prove your strength and power as above your position, above him, even with this weapon that disagrees with your armour, but it means nothing. Your strike is blocked, and the Tsarita's Damselette Columbina moves to detain you. You believe she would not be strong enough, but you don't itch to fight eight other Harbingers or their Director. You understand that even you have a limit, and fighting what are supposed to be the strongest people in the country is not a part of that.

Your honour is on the line, an honour which would tarnish not only Brighella's name but also have a ripple effect on your soldiers, men and women who fight for you and do not deserve the punishment that would result from their actions.

"Think carefully, Brighella." Columbina's warning is not lost on you. "You could remain as a hero or fight, and I will lure the creature you brought from the Abyss and gut him before your eyes."

You do not want that. That creature is not yet loyal to the Tsaritsa but to you, and she will convince him he can save you. He will fall into her trap and die because, for all that you have taught him, he is naïve.

You bite your lip, trying to think of a way to escape and capture him so that you can run off somewhere. He does not deserve to die, but you can't think of anything. Not when you know how thorough these people are. There is not a will, really; there is only a has. He has fallen into her trap and is at the mercy of the Damselette.

It suddenly makes an abundance of sense why your greatsword was missing this morning from where you discarded it on the floor of your chambers. Someone took it. They took it so you would appear before the Tsaritsa without your armour to carry your bow with you, taking advantage of your subordinate's absence to wander around so exposed.

You revealed your every weak point just as you were meant to because you are an arrogant creature of habit.

"What if I am to obey?" You finally ask the question you did not want to, surrendering in a way, though the bite has not left your words.

"I'll leave him be." Her answer is swift. She expected that you would eventually give in and only needed to wait for it to happen.

You shake your head, dissatisfied with only that as your compensation. "Not enough."

The smile on her face does not waver, thin and deceitful as ever, eyes hidden and closed, unseen behind the band of lace. "Mm. I can't bargain anything else." 

"Have him take my place." You lay your condition out firmly. There is only one to meet, and it is not a hard one at that. It would be easy to sway him into it, using whatever they plan to do to you as motivation. His loyalty and affection for you would make him accept it.

She ponders the situation and proposal momentarily, powerless to make the executive decision but undoubtedly keen on the thought of it all. "He believes that you are about to fall in battle to a foe and that he is going to save you."

You grit your teeth, knowing that this is her trap. Lure that creature to a place where he is vulnerable. It was not what you had expected, but it is no less the Damselette's style of acting. There is always a damsel, but perhaps she recognised that she would not suffice this time. She needed a better damsel for him to save; for that to work, it needed to be you. 

She needs your name, reputation, and your relationship with your subordinate. They meld with her lies to write a tale of tragedy, with him as the grief-stricken hero vowing to take his mentor's place.

The thought of him rushing to his death under the guise of saving you spikes your blood cold, chilling you. You're aware of her cruelty and always have been, but to experience it is different than hearing about it from her perspective. You are experiencing it from the perspective of the victim. 

His death was another factor to hold over your head—your penance—the anchor to force your compliance. Your blood boils with rage, but you cannot fight. Despite your anger and frustration, you know that lashing out will only cause further harm and pain.

There is only one thing you can do. You know you must. It's simply that you don't want to. 

But…you must. 

You must for him, that poor creature you tried to give a home to and who would never be in such a position if not for you and your ambition. 

"Then I will fall, and you will use the honour I built into him to persuade him." 

It was an honour meant to humanise him in a way, a being only able to imitate humanity. He had a mentor and something to fight for. Now you're imploring that it be used against him to burden him, but he will do well in your position.

Columbina smiles, that mocking smile like she knows the secrets of this world and more. "Would he really believe that?"

The helmet. You should use the helmet to your advantage. Your subordinate's first exposure to humanity being you, a woman in a metal helmet, seemed to last. He used to think that was what humans looked like, and he admitted as much to you as he had asked you to remove it once he could speak. Your impression left an indelible mark on him that he still treasures. Even if he were to see you in the aftermath, he would not uncover the lie.

"He has never seen my face. He would not recognise me."

Columbina accepts that readily, and her eyes open, pools of black and white visible through the cracks in the lace over her eyes. You've seen them before, inky black sclera and inhuman patterns decorating the borders of her irises, but you can't help the unsettled feeling that makes a home for itself in the pit of your stomach. 

-

By the evening, you are stripped of your honours, titles and coat and dumped to the curb like a bag of rubbish somebody left out. There is no more fight, no more bargaining, no more arguing. Everyone has the things they want, for the most part, so you are all satisfied enough to remain amicable with each other. Without a fight, you allow the Jester to remove the fur-lined overcoat despite the cold that rushes over you once it is gone and discarded in a heap of fur and fabric on the floor with none of its previous value. 

After that comes the slow, deliberate removal of every trinket that denoted you as you. From your delusion, several gifts to your very insignia, the only thing left of you is a lone pyro vision and the clothes on your back. You've never been more thankful to not wear a standard-issue uniform lest you be made to undress and hand that over, too.

That was it. Your everything.

With each piece of regalia taken, a part of yourself disappeared until you were left an empty husk of a person, your entire reason for being for hundreds of years snatched out from under you and spat on. Pierro allowed you the pity of dressing you in your weathered armour one last time to see you off, though he admits he cannot return the sword that goes with it.

The Harbingers were supposed to be the children of the Tsaritsa, and this was your grand disowning. A show of power and influence over her closest children and, by extension, the ability to bring pain to her lesser— to her followers. It was foolish of you to ever think you were special in her eyes for having been by her side since during the Archon War. 

What did it matter when she left you amongst the rest of them?

The years you spent since you had hobbled into her life so tiny and cute were now reduced to a few personal belongings and a set of words that shattered your world to sharp and dangerous pieces that would only hurt you in your haste to reassemble them and string your life back together.

Whatever should remain of yourself is torn away as if those things never belonged to you. Your memories are tossed down the drain by time, and the crown you thought sat firmly atop your head as Snezhnaya's spoiled princess is broken by the hurry to dismantle your power in its entirety.

When you were young, your cuteness may have been your best asset: a small body with endearing quirks and the inability to walk long distances without tumbling. You required your mother for everything because you would only find danger in the harsh Snezhnayan winters. To even acquire your own food was unthinkable, so you were sheltered and provided with ample treats that you could nibble from the palm of her hand if that were what you wished. Anything to keep you happy and content.

Like a little trinket, she cradled you for as many years as it took you to grow, and once you were at an age where you no longer needed to be cradled, she made you her loyal companion, or so you had believed. You thought her affection for you was unwavering. She was the only mother you had ever known; she is the only mother you will remember for all eternity.

Although it may have been an exaggeration, watching the sun's gradual descent below the horizon, you could almost believe eternity would quickly prove to be a very real concept. You watch the sky darken in silence for a time. You roam aimlessly around the city, your presence still striking unease in the people from the threatening demeanour you learned to conduct yourself with as a Harbinger, even without your official attire. The only remnant of your former self is a helmet you consistently wore during every public appearance strapped to your hip. 

You can't help your wandering mind. Did your imitation of the Tsaritsa's actions make you weak? Attempting to nurture someone in the same manner she nurtured you? You are not a god, only the former child of one. Maybe you cannot care for him and maintain your objectivity. He may have become your Achilles' heel, as you were forewarned when the Tsaritsa less than subtly suggested you eliminate him.

You cannot live like this.

No matter how many suns you watch set, you will never come to terms with living like this. The world you once knew, which revolved around a singular governing entity and individual, has disappeared without a trace. Without a central axis to anchor it in place, your world spirals chaotically out of control, with each passing second feeling more frenzied than the last.

This purposeless existence where you have no one to create meaning for you feels just as endless as your high on the rush of power once did.

Your head is too muddled, your brain too overwhelmed by your emotions to think objectively of the faults in your time as a Harbinger. Years of your life have been spent that way, burying your thoughts beneath a heavy weight of despair. Your life is over. Even as the woodlands are forced to welcome you, they mark the end of everything, embracing you in what could be your death, as you imagine it is meant to.

The conclusion of those years greets you with nothing but a cold, detached farewell you never expected. The years you spent dutifully carrying out your mother's will should've been concluded by a grand celebration or momentous occasion to mark the end. This is not how these things are supposed to go, but you can't say it's never happened before. Usually, you'd just kill Harbingers your mother no longer approved of. You might have the better side of things, even if your career is at the worst possible end.

You almost want to call those years wasted, but that would be wrong. Without the Tsaritsa, you might've— no, would've died during the Archon War. Perhaps another god would take you in, but it is unlikely that they would have exhibited the same level of compassion and generosity as the Tsaritsa. They would not have coddled you into comfort the way she did. Then again, what if that had been your downfall? Did she ever genuinely want you to stay? Based on this…perhaps you took her kindness for granted and overstayed your welcome.

You had no right to make demands of her in your final moments as her child, acting like a spoiled brat throwing a temper tantrum. But can you be justified? Can the threat to your subordinate's life negate that? Surely a bit, but not entirely, not if her actions were in response to yours. 

Oh, even if you begged on your knees, she would not take you back now.

Why had you not done that before?

She must be disappointed that your attitude was born from her compassion, the epitome of her failures. You do not deserve to call her your mother. You took her generosity as a guarantee, thought yourself above her other children solely because you were her first, and believed you were her favourite for no reason besides arrogance.

You have failed the only being in Teyvat willing to show pity toward you.

-

The deepest heart of Snezhnayan forest welcomes you readily with open arms and the gnashing jaws of monsters starving for food. The forest seems to come alive with a vicious hunger for flesh. You have only your vision and bow left to aid your defence as you shrug off part of your armour to delegate it to the ties on your hip that secure your helmet.

Your delusion is gone, and your subordinates are nowhere to be found to assist you. The danger is to be braved alone for the first time in what must be forever. Despite this, marking your way with a trail of bodies is easy. It is just an inconvenience to always be on guard, but you are strangely used to it. Your life has been spent that way. Being on guard is what keeps you alive on long expeditions, at night when your lessers slept under your watch, in the depths of the Abyss where it is the only thing stopping the resilient from dropping like flies.

The cold is numbing as the air hits your face, your fingers almost wholly without a sensation of touch and even a tingle in your toes. Your vision emits warmth like a stone of fire seeping into your bones to chase the chill away. It nearly suffocates your fingers each time you press your hand to it, hoping to glean some heat from it.

You spent many missions that way, tensed and expecting violence at any moment, hardly allowing yourself to sleep, let alone relax. Despite so many things changing, you are just as high-strung as you used to be. It feels like nothing has changed in that respect, but you know everything has. You cannot hear the large crackling bonfire or the pattering of footsteps in the snow as your subordinates come to join you, their laughter and chatter and their whispers to each other.

While everything falls apart around you, you freeze as if that is the only thing keeping you together, even knowing that nothing will remain once you finally let go. Breathing is difficult, and so is thinking, but you'd rather not think at all. You want to pretend you'll look across the clearing you wander through and see that creature eagerly waiting, so safe and out of every hand that might harm him.

There is a fragile little balance of land around you that slowly crumbles away piece by piece as it encroaches upon the section that keeps you afloat without regard for where you're supposed to stand when the last of it falls from under your feet. Eventually, you'll have nothing left beneath you.

If there is a time when the only part of what was is yourself, you must protect that no matter what it does to you. You have to maintain the same rigid ways you've always stuck to. Those are the last parts of you made by your mother; those are the last parts of yourself you can trust for as long as you can't trust yourself.

The stark silence is deafening to your ears.

-

On the seventh night, you pass through a village on the outskirts of Snezhnaya, where you first catch wind of the news you had agreed on.

The locals informed you that they had recently halted their work for half a day in honour of your passing, believing that you had been slain in battle, though they are just as unaware as everyone else you've passed that they're talking to the person they believe to be dead. Hearing the story that the Jester spoon-fed the public to explain your disappearance makes it feel a touch more real, the consequences of your obedience stinging in a way you didn't expect. You cannot claim it to be a sick joke when it has had time to reach the smaller villages.

Even when that information would naturally spread like wildfire, the thought that it has come to be known by the nation solidifies the death of Brighella.

In a way, she really is dead.

You're the only one still standing here.

You find what can only be a wayward adventurer not far from the town, engaging a wild boar in combat, brandishing a blade at the beast as it snarls back at him and prepares to rush toward him. He faces it with the heavy hand of experience steadying his grip, ending the boar in a swift movement of his blade that matches the work of his feet to jostle him out of its path.

"Good morning," you greet him after a moment, arms folding over your chest as you watch him poke at the boar with the tip of his sword. "Strike it through the back of its neck. It'll die quickly."

"And painfully," he scoffs back, yet his foot steadies the boar nonetheless, and it is out of its misery by the final stab.

You break away from the spot that had glued you to the ground, approaching the man and his kill to assess the job as if on instinct. "Good work," you tell him without really thinking.

"You think so?" he questions. His eyes focus on you instantly, watching you inspect the boar with a curious gleam. You offer a curt nod. He stares as if waiting to be appraised in precisely the same manner you do a dead animal, weary enough not to sheath his blade. "You really think it's smart to walk around like that?" he asks after a few seconds.

"Why?" you ask, absently poking at the boar. You half expect it will spring back to life and knock the both of you flat on your asses, yet it never does.

He hesitates for the first time since you first saw him, opening his mouth to speak before reconsidering and pressing his lips into a thin line. He catches his breath. "The armour," he begins. "It..."

"It...?" You don't recall ever meeting him before, though it is not uncommon that adventurers know what you look like. You travel so much that it's hardly unusual that people catch glimpses of you, and never forget the Harbinger dressed in the old armour of the guards of Zapolyarny.

It is not unthinkable for a man used to being at odds with Fatui soldiers would recall what might be the most royal pain in his ass.

"A Harbinger was slain," he continues, gaze wandering away. "A Harbinger dressed in armour. I mean, people wear armour all the time, but that set..."

You quirk an eyebrow at such an awkward explanation. It's an accusation he doesn't dare make for its boldness, but he cannot deny it when he considers it for himself. "You recognise it?" you question.

"Something similar. From when Brighella was in Sumeru," he confirms. "I may have been a child, but I recognise it anywhere. Most people have armour custom made to fit them, but yours..."

"Someone else's," you finish for him.

That is technically true regardless. Even as Brighella, the armour was stolen. You vaguely recall the story, but you took it from the stores, assuming it belonged to a guard who no longer had use for it. It should've been the property of a grown man, but you have always accounted for the pinching and awkward proportions. You had to grow into it and didn't grow quite enough.

"You're asking if I killed her," you conclude, though that is an equally bold assumption.

He pauses, weariness in his eyes at the thought, but shakes his head. "That would be a bit presumptuous," he responds. "I just wondered if you really thought it was smart to wander around in armour that looks so much like hers."

"Perhaps not," you admit, swallow your pride to allow that much. "It might be smarter to get some clothes from a market."

"New armour wouldn't hurt," he adds. "You're travelling to...?" he trails off, briefly glancing up as if to seek your appearance for the answer. "Not the heart of Snezhnaya, I hope."

"Fontaine," you answer. "It's the first trail south."

"I'm sure you'll find both of those things there," he says. He offers a slight smile despite the circumstances, an unspoken reliving of the tension you realise lingered on past the point you expected it to.

A part of you knows that he makes that presumptuous assumption. He suspects that you have killed the reigning tyrant but says nothing, perhaps out of relief at the possibility you did. Snezhnaya finds liberation in your slaying. A weight has lifted in your absence that they are not yet allowing themselves to get used to out of fear that you might return. It's as if everyone holds their breath for the news that you resurfaced from the Abyss and were merely lost to a chasm in the world.

You know that news will never come.

Now, the armour that once protected you as a Harbinger will stand as a triumphant emblem of your hard-won victory over Brighella and the end of the Harbinger's tyrannical hold over the land. Even knowing that he is right and it is unwise to wander clad in your old armour, you can't let it go. You are glad it is still yours. Pierro granted it to you, and you didn't care to ask why when it felt as though you were watching your comrades through the eyes of your younger self five hundred years ago. Through danger, you will keep it close, treasuring it always as a tangible reminder of the sacrifices you made to reach this pivotal moment. 

You slayed Brighella. You ended the Harbinger's tyranny.

Brighella is dead.

Though there is no truth to it, you take responsibility for the Harbinger's slaying at the first gasp of a wayward adventurer recognising it. You grasp it as your singular piece of this life—your trophy. It is the first fragment of your new self.

If you didn't know better, you would think you were getting a little too far into it and starting to believe it yourself.

-

By the eleventh night, you find yourself situated in an inn, and the nights only carry on from there all the way up to the twenty-second night since your abrupt dismissal and, to the rest of the world, your supposed demise. The sigh of relief finally sounds, if a tad reserved. Snezhnaya collectively agrees that Brighella is dead enough to think they might have escaped her thumb, even if they aren't wholly convinced that she could really be dead.

The whispers that once revolved around Brighella's defeat now shifted to speculations regarding her successor. The question was not necessarily who, but who could possibly? Her brutal reign as a Harbinger had instilled fear in the hearts of all who crossed her path; in the minds of the people, no one else could measure up to her sheer terror-inducing presence.

Nobody knows what happened once they dared to fight Brighella until now. She was the first of the Tsaritsa's children, and she was the most combat-heavy. No one wished to cross her except for the rumoured contender for her throne, who was spoken of in hushed tones, as nobody was eager to have their reverence for whoever was bold enough to reach the wrong ears.

Your achievements find their place amongst the rumours as people say that Brighella's killer stole her armour and wears it as her trophy.

Despite the slew of gossip that its patrons indulge in, you enjoy the quaintness of this bar made and run by travellers who use it like a pitstop to rest and recuperate. It is a home to them, along with adventurers and merchants who benefit from the atmosphere. The people are strangers, often reserved and eager to keep to themselves, but have an immeasurable wealth of information that spills with a few drinks and a group of acquaintances who are, for only one night of pleasure and indulgence, their lifelong friends.

Among those friends buried in your own tankard of cheap ale, you laugh along with their jokes and entertain their questions like a test of your ability to lie and improvise in this tale you're making for yourself. If they have names, you don't know them. Brighella's death was a glorious battle but isolated to the hills where you were alone.

"Brighella was alone, and they were weakened by prior injury. I don't know what caused it." You mix a dash of the speculations in, downplaying your strength as you're unwilling to expose too much of it. "I'm not one to miss an opportunity. When would it arise again?"

One of your new acquaintances scoffs, amused but no less aware of the dangers of doing such a thing. "And make an enemy of the Fatui?" He is a new graduate of the Sumeru Akademiya who's come to make his way through Snezhnaya for a job offer. Reminds you of someone else, minus the graduating.

"They will not miss her." You are quick to answer—too quick, arguably—as it draws a sliver of attention before dipping back under the radar as a product of your confidence. "Her 'head' makes too cute a decoration on my side to pass up stealing it."

"I wouldn't dare say such a thing. Fatuus comes here sometimes." They are the words of a Snezhnayan native raised to worship the Fatui, though he is somewhat disillusioned by their crimes and cruelty, as you've learned many are.

"Let them hear it!" Your laughter is boisterous and unabashed. "They'll see the armour anyway. They probably despise her like everyone else."

Another one of your new friends, a travelling merchant from Fontaine, interjects your ravings to add only a passing comment. It was as she had done all evening, her secrets locked up tight. "She did not make herself likeable."

"She was not meant to be likeable but a fearsome warrior." Again, the Snezhnayan man rebuts the criticism against her as he had been doing all evening.

"You don't have to get so far up her ass, Brighella's not gonna crawl out of her grave and thank you for it."

"You're so vulgar."

You plant your tankard firmly on the table between the four of you, leaning over it to close the distance between you and the man. "I'm not meant to be likeable either."

Forget being only a little too into the role. You're revelling in the freedom of this new identity of yours.

Quick to disperse the tension, your graduate friend changes the topic without a hint of hesitance in his voice. "They left an underling people believe will take their place. It's a surprise to think Brighella had someone who followed them with such…devotion."

It seems they finally figured out who might take Brighella's place in the grand scheme of things, and the rumours say there is only one candidate.

The creature wearing the face of a man she brought home from the Abyss.

"It's strange but not impossible." The merchant from Fontaine again, contributing nothing you weren't all already thinking.

"Could she have had a sentimental side?"

"Who cares if she had a sentimental side?"

"Upset the attention isn't on you anymore?"

Anger crosses your face, but you stifle it as quickly as it appears. You wish their attention was off of you, really. The former you, maybe, but you nonetheless. You want to know about your subordinate. What happened to your second in command? You don't care to hear their speculation as to whether you were or were not particularly emotional with your underlings. You know the answers to all of those questions and more without their guessing games.

"Regardless of the reason, they say the underlying is much easier to swallow than she is, so maybe the position of First Harbinger will change drastically if he takes it." 

"Would he really change its purpose if he was so loyal?"

"Unintentionally, perhaps."

Gods, these people are so dull. Just by listening to them, you can tell they know nothing about the ways of the Fatui. Harbingers are not individual job positions with specific parameters. Each role is its own, and they are moulded by the person who assumes them like a character in a play, enchanting and unsettling in a horrific mix of theatrics and violence. It is what they stand for. One does not assume the role and become an actor with a script. They must improvise and act on a whim to the beat of the Tsaritsaʼs drum, their life no longer their own.

They are not whatever these ramblings and poor excuses for speculations make them out to be.

"Terribly misinformed, aren't they?" In your ear is the low voice of the Snezhnayan man holding in his laughter at the two as the scholar and the merchant go back and forth. You watch them with a sharp gaze that almost borders a glare, bored of their squabbles and misconceptions.

You glance to your left, where he has leaned closer to you. You eye the way he tilts in his seat, his hand resting on the table. "Repulsively," you respond curtly.

He has a faint glint of satisfaction in his eye as you seem to have confirmed something. "I thought you might've been from Snezhnaya." 

Your eyes narrow at his conclusion, though it is the truth. You don't trust the gleam in his eyes or the way his gaze fixes between you and the helmet secured to your hip. "So what if I am?" you question lowly.

"It was only an observation."

In the background, the main conversation continues, just as clumsy as before you had tuned it out in favour of drinking some more. "Does this mean he will also be named Brighella?"

Straightening back in his seat, the man swiftly interjected their back-and-forth responses to explain to them. "They receive a unique title upon their promotion, and nobody knows what it is until then." A simple enough concept to understand.

"In other words, anything but Brighella."

"It hasn't been long enough to know yet."

"It's strange. Nobody knows his name even now."

That would probably be because you never gave him one.

You considered it in the years you spent with him but couldn't find one you liked. His name was inhuman, not for your ears and not for your tongue, rendering it useless to you and everyone else who would hear it. The night you found him was spent crowded around a bonfire listing off every suggestion you and your subordinates could think of to no avail, as he only sat quietly by your side and said little about any of these choices, finding no familiarity in any of them. That's only natural, you suppose. 

You still haven't chosen a name for yourself that isn't Brighella, either. Your old one is well and truly forgotten, with the years eroding your memories. It had been centuries since you had been called anything else. Evidently, picking names is not your forte. 

"As far as I've heard, nobody knows what it is."

You find the mention of your subordinate has completely ruined your mood. You are grateful the creature is alive but worried the knowledge you're snooping around to find out when he will be promoted could land you in trouble. It's troubling enough to wonder if he has heard your tales through the grapevine about how you had supposedly 'killed' Brighella—his mistress and mentor—which he would not be happy about.

Though you did not fear the creature before, now that you've personally trained him to understand human combat, you're not so sure you'd want to fight him. It would be a hassle. Unlike many, you do not fear the inhumanity of the Doctor or the stone wall called the Jester. Even the cunning Damselette struggles to do more than unsettle you, but you respect that creature's raw strength and understand that no matter what you do, it doesn't matter. You are confined to a human form, and he is not.

You lied when he said he wouldn't recognise you, however. You don't actually know if he would.

You don't know the extent to which his eyes can pick out the details in your appearance that aren't physical. Had he memorised your relative build? Your height? The way you carry yourself and your mannerisms? The thought unnerves you, but so does everything else about him.

"I'm turning in for the night," you declare to the table with a knock of your cup as you slam it down.

Without regard for the ongoing conversation, you announce your intentions and abruptly shut down whatever is being said at the time without much care for it. Whatever it is, it isn't important. Your unfinished drink is left behind as you make your way to your quarters.

In retrospect, you understand their eagerness to merely cover up the circumstances of your dismissal. For a Harbinger as feared as Brighella, it is easier to halt work for a mere half-day rather than attempt to contain the resulting fallout of admitting one of their own was inadequate while simultaneously preserving their tenuous hold on power.

You drop to your bed with far too much faith in it and already regret the potent scent of alcohol on your breath that addles your mind and forces you to wander back to your betrayal. There's not much else you can call it.

Even as you try to squeeze your eyes shut and vanish the image from your tired mind, the confusion lingers against your will. You thought you were your mother's lucky charm. You had been so since the Archon War, to your knowledge, but you lost many of your fragile memories to the sands of time. Something changed while you weren't looking, and her gaze shifted from you to her goals.

Nobody won.

Nobody won...

You have always wondered what she met. You thought it was because the people were at a point of unrest you feared they wouldn't return from, but no one is left to remember the old gods now. You are instead struck by the ghost of your own blindness. You had ventured to the Abyss so many times and lived for so many years that you fell out of touch with her in a way. Even as you did everything to preserve her love for you, it disappeared.

It couldn't have happened in an instant.

You just don't know when it started or at what point it ended, both of which gnaw at your mind incessantly like a parasite that threatens to consume you whole. You dwell on what may never be answered in an attempt to understand something that cannot be understood. You have never been good at avoiding the bad habits of chasing ghosts, even if you fooled yourself into believing otherwise.

Each passing day forces you to wonder if it has anything to do with the many people who died under your command or were distorted by the Abyss during your expeditions. You struggle to imagine it has anything to do with anyone but yourself. You thought you were exactly who she wanted you to be, but perhaps you weren't. Whatever the reason, it escapes you.

You pile your armour off and leave it beside the bed with a touch more respect than you've ever had for it; your helmet carefully stands on the nightstand where you hope it does not fall and collapse back into the bed, eager to escape such vision of before.

You have no desire to remember the days when your hands were smaller, and you could barely reach the handles on the palace doors or fit your suit of armour. Those were the days you never once doubted her affection, though you feared she was pulling away. You looked into the eyes of a weathered old man and saw competition where he mourned his fallen nation as he was forced to linger in a world ruled by the very gods that had caused it to crumble.

You never understood his weakness. By then, though small, you had forgotten what it felt like to be an ant on the mountain where gods battled.

[puppyparkmoving]

in regards to the “safeship” idea: i’m worried that some people might try to turn this into a “no villain / morally grey characters” kind of thing. i don’t think that’s your intent, but i’ve seen enough discourse regarding these types of characters to make me a bit weary. like, i don’t people labeled as proshippers just because they have villain f/os.

I really dont care sorry. I ship with villains and i dont get confused for proshitting becuz i dont consume or excuse actual abusive content or fetishize immoral things. This issue ur describing is different from this situation.... Completely.... I know some ppl r rlly high n mighty n treat villain shippers like garbage or whatever but not only am i outspoken abt ethical and moral villain shipping being ok (im the one who made the poaitivity banners....) But also its not my fault if someone is so dense they misread the blatant intent being literally exactly what it is. It is literally JUST to make sure fucking sexual abuse survivors can get on tumblr too. Two separate issues conpletely. If someone doesnt want someone with villain f/o's interacting they can be a big girl and put it in their dni and ppl can just respect it and block them and vice versa. It has nothing to do with the far more dead serious issue i am trying to remedy.

[nathank77]

10/11/24

2:51 p.m

My mom wants to get rid of Riley ideally tonight. Liv is going to contact her cousin who knows a bunch of dog lovers.

My mother said it has nothing to do with me... even if I had said nothing... i believe her bc Riley started tearing new stuff apart... and everything.

But god it would have been nice if she said my feeling mattered at all..maybe she's putting it that way bc everyone in the house hates me and thinks I'm being bossy and forcing her to. Idk.....

I mean she tore up another stuffed animal and some stuff. And she sees that no matter what the house will always be a disaster bc the dog will always tear it up.

Id like to think my mother is considering my feelings and trying to protect me... I mean... me and skye are at eachothers throats about it. Liv now hates me bc Riley sat in her water that she purposely spilled over.....

When my mom called us in for the discussion, liv said, "idk why he can't just take care of her." How about you fuck off. Ocd is real af. I wish I could be normal. You have no idea. I wish I didn't think my hoodie was poison ivy. I wish I didn't think my pants and shirt are poison ivy. I wish I didn't think that the dog is walking e coli, and whatever else is in urine and shit. I wish I could take care of her. I wish I could give her the life she deserves.

And liv said to me when I said, "believe it or not i do love the dog." She said, "I don't believe it. You wanted her out since day one."

And I said, "umm yea, I'm not over Nala. Nala died in pain. Nala didn't get the vet treatment she needed. Nala died right where you're sitting and you can still see the blood stain where her organ ruptured.... so yea I didn't want Riley bc she will die in pain."

She's some 20 year old little kid trying to pass judgement on me and it's like you're living off skye for free. You're her nurse maid for a reason. Don't get all high and mighty. You're no different than me. You're not working for a reason. You can't handle working and going school for a reason. You got problems too.

Like yea i left Riley for a little longer in the crate when she purposely tipped over her water. Yup I'm an asshole but I'm too mentally ill to make food or shower with this dog.

I mean i crated myself bc liv was being a bitch about me crating her. I barricaded my door and the hallway to the bathroom so that I can have free passage in my poison ivy clothes that Riley hasn't contimainated YET this time...

Like ocd is fucking real. My trauma is fucking real. And I know you don't care but don't pretend I won't tell skye everything you said about her if you keep making off hand remarks. Like I'll give skye a fucking ear full.

I already fucking solved my snapple problem. I didn't drink either and tossed them out and started getting Gatorade and pouring them into cups and drinking them at room tempature.

I started keeping my tooth brushes and mouth wash in my room. Like I can live out of this room.. and keep everything out of your hands. Idk if she did shit to my snapple. All I know is she was all good with me for a while and then bc of the water incident she turned on me.

Bro I left her food and water in her crate bc it was going to be a while. I also fed her chicken and cheese when she was in it. And you want to know who's spent hours petting her??? Me. They clock maybe idk, 5 hours in the last 3 weeks... I clock prob fucking 50 hours.... bc I had to structure my entire day around the dog bc I wanted her to feel loved and not be alone.

But we have to run all this by skye so that liv can contact her people. And skye is going to say i bossed her around. Actually I didn't. I have started crated myself. If I got to make food I'll put a door in front of the doorway in the living room and block it off so she can't come in..

Id like to think, my mom snapped from her ruining more of her things. I'd like to think my mom also considered my feelings but doesn't want anyone else to gang up on me.

Either way I am sad that I can't be mentally strong enough to take care of the dog. I'd like to think bc of how fast they got rid of her that if we didn't take her, she would have been abused and bc we took her we are just a foster to get her to a good home.

I'll cry a little bit but I'll be happy that she will have a yard to play in. That she will have someone who can pet her all the time and not with cancer gloves. That someone can bring her to vet.

Liv can fuck off. And my sister well. Like I said evict me. Normally I'd leave if I have any respect for the person.

When cecile asked me to leave, she gave me a month or 2 to find a place. I had already lined up colleen cause I knew it was coming. And I left on 3 days. I packed a suitcase and slept on a couch for a month until they brought my stuff to me. I respected her and her family. I don't fucking respect skye.

Either way I have a lot of mixed feelings but for right now I'm hiding from Riley. I'll pet her and say goodbye. Idk how mom thinks she will be gone by tonight.... but I expect a few more days at least...

I'll spend time with her and give her treats and try to make her happy once my hand cream dries and I give them a couple hours.

I'm not actually happy about it. I'm sad I couldn't be a good dog owner bc of my illness. But I also have to consider poverty. I could never get her the care she needs. I can barely afford myself.

[deirakizuna]

Alright i'm back

[wisteriasxx]

a/n: had this in the drafts since tfatws finished streaming and I forgot to post it but here haha

18+

Warnings: Weed, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex

Smoke sesh with Marvel characters 🍃

this one is for all my stoner marvel fans💕 just my thoughts on what it would be like to smoke with some of our favs✨

———————————————————————

Steve

Well considering Steve is a super soldier, he can’t get drunk or high..........BUT for the sake of this let’s just pretend he can ;)

It would probably take loads of convincing for him to even try the stuff

If he decides to try it, he’s only taking one hit.

High Steve is definitely just super chill, and really cuddly, he’s gonna grab you and just hold you for the rest of the night.

When it comes time for munchies he will literally eat anything, but his favorite snack when the munchies hit is Mozzarella sticks.

He’ll start talking about how things were back in the 40’s, including how crazy the youth is today with this stuff you’ve just given him.

Tony

We all know that Tony is KNOWN for being a party animal, so he’s definitely down for a lil sesh with the avengers

Tony definitely likes to drink more then he would smoking, but he’ll still smoke.

Probably owns a dab pen with indica for for his anxiety

Prefers indica but will settle for a hybrid (sativa and indica)

Gets really giggly and even more sarcastic when he’s high

Will not move from his current place of rest, someone will have to bring him food when the munchies come or he will complain the entire time

Favorite munchies food is potato chips

High tony will definitely accidentally start spilling your secrets in front of people, you might have to physically shut him up somehow

Thor

Will give you a funny look when you hand him a joint or a pen or whatever it is that your using.

He’ll understand that you smoke it, but he’ll think it’s just tobacco or something

Before you can tell him what it actually is he’s already taken a couple of big hits

Once you tell him what it is that he’s smoking and what it does, the only response you’ll get is “this tastes funny and it will have no effect on me because I am mighty”

Fast forward to ten minutes later of Thor being loud and laughing at everything and just being an absolute goofball

Will eat and drink everything in sight once the munchies hit for him

“Where can I get more of this midgaurdian herb!??!!?!!” He’ll yell from the couch

Like Steve, he’ll get grabby and just wanna hold you the entire time. If you’re standing he’s gonna stand behind you with his arms wrapped around you and his chin resting on ur head. If you’re sitting he’s putting his arm around you and pulling you close.

Definitely ends with him passed out on the floor

Natasha

When she sees everyone playing “puff puff pass”, she’ll roll her eyes.

“What are you guys in high school or something?”

She will insist that she wants nothing to do with it, but after tony makes some remark about it, she decides to prove him wrong.

After a hit or two, Nat becomes more comfortable, she becomes less uptight.

Likes to shoot out more sarcastic one liners then usual

Becomes very flirty ;)

She gets smiley but in a tired way

In fact, She doesn’t stay awake very long after she’s had a hit or two in her system, she gets too tired and calls it a night

By “calls it a night” I mean she basically droops onto you and refuses to move, you’ll have to move her if you want to.

Doesn’t get the munchies because she’s asleep before she can

Clint

Clint will take a hit or two, just because why not? He could use the relaxation

He’s super chill when he’s high, he keeps to himself

He’s quiet when he’s high, but that’s just because he’s vibing, he’s taking in the music or just simply listening to the nearest conversation.

Wears sunglasses the whole time because he doesn’t want anyone to see his red eyes

He doesn’t really get munchies, he just chills the entire time

You can’t tell if he’s asleep or if he’s just vibing

Will only give one word answers if you ask him something

Not the most fun to smoke with but he’s just chilling and minding his own business so he’s welcome.

Loki

Will look at you with irritable confusion when you offer him a hit

When you tell him what it is and what it will do to him he’ll simply ask, “why would I want to do that?”

He won’t do it in front of anyone, that would mean letting his guard down and becoming vulnerable

He will definitely try it later in private though

When he’s high, he’ll want you to join him

He’s still basically loki when he’s high, he’s just more relaxed

“This is quite nice I must say.”

There will definitely be a conversation about how he can’t believe this is what mortals do for fun

He’ll become a little more open with you because he’s more relaxed

He’ll become confused when the munchies hit, but after you tell him it’s normal he’ll go with it

His favorite munchie food is definitely popcorn

I’m gonna flat out say it, high loki has a higher sex drive

Gets lost in the moment type of guy

In his opinion, the weed helps him block out everything else except for you, and that’s why he likes it

His mischief meter also skyrockets, you thought normal loki was good at pulling tricks? Just wait till you see how creative high loki can get

Bucky

Bucky is gonna look at you like your crazy

Then he’ll remember that he is also crazy, and figures the weed might help ease his mind a little.

Bucky becomes more relaxed when he’s high, his guard has dropped a little, but he’s still aware of his surroundings.

He’s funnier when he’s high 

Smiles more which makes you smile because you think he doesn’t smile enough

He still does the staring thing when he’s high, but it’s not as intimidating now, there’s a softer look in his eyes and a small smile on his face

Will open up a little more about his feelings towards you

After his first time trying weed, he’ll get some cbd gummies or something on a regular basis to help relax him

When the munchies hit for him, he’ll eat anything, but his favorite munchie food is anything Italian.

He just wants to cuddle man

Wanda

Wanda is surprisingly chill

She’s more open, more humorous, and even nicer.

her magic can resemble her current state of mind if she wants it to

So when she’s high, her magic becomes really pretty and elegant, like it’s in slow motion

In fact, she glows a little when she’s high

She’ll make her magic do pretty things for your entertainment

Due to her magic though, I feel that her high wouldn’t last very long

For her, smoking is just a quick little get away from her mind, something that just takes the edge off a little

Doesn’t get munchies

Prefers indica

Peter (quill)

He’s never had earth weed, but he’s definitely smoked and drank all kinds of substances through out the galaxy

Definitely likes sativa

He’s down for whatever, he likes to try new things

He’ll complain about the taste, but then love the way he’s feeling in 10 minutes

He becomes very stupid when he’s high

He’ll turn his favorite music on full volume and just start doing things, he won’t be able to sit still.

He’ll try to do things to keep himself entertained, but he’ll be bad at doing them because he’s high

When later or the next day comes when he’s sober, he’ll look at the evidence of him trying to do whatever it was he was trying to do and be totally confused, but not surprised

When the munchies hit, he’ll eat anything he can find on the ship that’s edible

It will end with him passed out in some weird spot on the ship or wherever he’s at

He once got high and woke up cuddling with Drax-

Gamora

Will not smoke

The designated driver

The “chaperone” of the night

Sam Wilson

When you offer him a hit, he’ll be unsure and say something like “man I haven’t done something this stupid since high school, I don’t know”

But he says “screw it” to himself and takes a couple of hits

Becomes really smiley when he’s high, like the dude won’t stop smiling. It irritates Bucky.

Definitely will start singing out of nowhere, even if there’s no music playing

He’s also gonna tell crazy stories about his past, things from high school stories to military stories

He livens up the session for sure, after a few hits in, he makes it his goal for the night to make everyone happy and vibing along with him

When the munchies hit for sam, he goes straight for pizza. This man absolutely loooovesss pizza when he’s inebriated

Dr.Strange

Is obviously familiar with the substance

Definitely used to do it all the time in college (helped with the stress of med school)

Will question if it’s the best choice for everyone to be making right now

Most likely will not do it, it wouldn’t look good if the sorcerer supreme was getting high

You’ll ask him if he knows some kind of spell that can sober you up

He’ll tell you “yes” and proceed to hand you a water bottle and roll his eyes

He’ll do the portal thing above you and a bunch of your favorite snacks will land on your lap when the munchies come

He’ll take care of you once you pass out, carrying you to your bed or your couch or whatever and setting a glass of water near you before he leaves you alone

Scott Lang

Oh yeah, he’s definitely taking a couple hits

Prefers bongs

Prefers hybrid blends (sativa and indica)

This man knows his kush okay? Would not be surprised if he had a plug, or if he was the plug

Weed makes him more productive, he’ll start doing things and multi tasking, he’ll do anything from messing around in the suit to playing rock band

Chinese take out is this mans go to munchie food, nothing brings him greater joy then inhaling wonton soup or lo mein when he’s high

He’s bringing his friends too, there’s no arguing

Like Sam, he livens the session up

Somehow become bolder, dumber and flirty at the same time when he’s high

When he comes down though, he comes down hard, and sometimes literally.

He’ll pass out or fall asleep in the weirdest places, but he’ll be enjoying it and wake up feeling well rested somehow

Bonus cuz i think it’s funny ++

John walker

Will be all cocky about taking a hit, thinking it won’t affect him or that it’ll make him cooler or something dumb

Gets scared and paranoid

Starts literally tweaking and saying stuff like “they’re coming for me”

Freaks out because he can’t handle the kush in his system

Definitely locks himself in the bathroom and cries, calls Lamar to come pick him up

Ends up becoming a hazard for everyone, so Bucky has to knock him out cold

Will probably snitch on everyone for smoking just because he had a bad time with it and he’s just jealous that he can’t vibe correctly

[hanibalistic]

#8A4961 | BANG CHAN.

genre | werewolf au, questionable fluff

word count | 2016

warning | mention of injury, mention of poison

the pocket knife in your hand was bloodied with the werewolf hunter's blood, but all you could do as you run the opposite direction from where you were once walking toward was to pray that the wounded hunter, and his friends, did not catch a glimpse of your face.

chan has shifted to his wolf form shortly after the bullet poked through his chest. despite his strong resistance to losing control, whenever emergencies arise, such as being exposed by hunters in a local bar during a quiet drink, even a mighty alpha like him would take precaution and howl to the moon for strength.

chan had no idea where those men came from. he has never seen the likes of them, and he thought he knew all of his enemies already. were those new people? if they were, why have there not been any words spread between packs about this? this is no ordinary matter, this is about a hunting group, a common enemy—he would know if someone new came along.

you made a lucky stab to the closest man when you found out they meant harm, then you jumped off the wooden stool and raced out the bar with chan, who bolted the door to the bar with the heavy, decorative logs placed just outside as a waiting area.

you two did not make it far before a whimper left chan. you paused immediately at the pitiful noise and you turned around to find him barely standing on four paws, wheezing and whimpering with slow, heavy breaths.

widening your eyes when he fell to the side, you rushed toward him, sliding across the snow in the process. you knelt next to him. your weak hands were unable to lift his body when you wanted to examine his wounds, so you resulted in shifting through his furs carefully to find the bullet hole.

you knew there was nothing you could do, there was nothing you knew how to do. staying with seungmin, a beta your age who specializes in herbs and medicine, has taught you nothing about dealing with injuries. but if you could just take a look, you could access how severe it is and plan from there.

"ah–found it!" you brightened up when you found a trace of veins, but as quickly as your smile came, as quickly as it went. that was not the bullet wound, those strong veins were the aftermath of it—the aftermath of a poisoned bullet.

to kill an alpha, a simple bullet would never be enough, not even when he takes it to the heart.

even though you never understood why the killing was not necessary; people are so afraid of potential threats, it is almost stupid, especially when dealing with it causes more loss than letting it be.

"okay, it's okay, let's just... let's find a place to hide and rest," you huffed out quietly, looking around the foggy, snowy forest with furrowed brows, trying to find a way out.

your heart dropped when you found lanterns flashing at a distance.

the hunters were already here.

you saw chan's eyes shift downward, his ears flapping gently. he must have heard the sound of footsteps, or he sniffed out their malicious scent from all the way over there. either way, he was not happy with their approach, and he showed it by letting out a tantrum-like huff.

"it's going to be fine," you told him, but you were more so trying to comfort yourself when you realized chan may soon lose the complete ability to stay conscious and you would be left alone in a foreign tree maze. you slid your hands under his body and struggled to tuck him upwards. "come on, just try to stand, please."

chan complied with your request. he moved slowly, his legs bending and his feet anchored on the ground. he whimpered again when he added pressure to stand, and he fell almost immediately after his attempt. you barely caught him, and your yelp turned the lantern lights toward you.

he gruffed out when he heard the footsteps quicken toward you. he could hear their conversations: talking about your whereabouts, talking about the werewolf in a man's disguise, talking about his faceless companion who could be a potential liability, talking about taking the alpha's weakness.

his gaze sharpened. evidence kept being added to his theory. the fact that he has never seen nor heard of these hunters only proved that they could be sent through a rival pack who deliberately hid the information from them. now, with all this weakness talk? it only reinforced his theory.

chan looked away from the lantern lights to you. your frightened expression made his heart clench—the same expression you held when he found you hiding in your small closet after you got chased down the block and had your apartment door kicked open. the fact that he has to see it again made him fume with anger, and he couldn't think of much else but this: nobody takes you. absolutely nobody takes you, no matter what.

he already killed those who tried once, he will not hesitate to do it again.

"i am so sorry, but please just endure it a little more," you said, mistaking the nudging of his leg as a sign of pain spreading. turning to the approaching light, your breath quickened and you cursed.

think fast, think fast! do something!

you had refused to train to learn how to fight better, and you were unable to participate in meetings of private pack matters. you knew nothing about farming, or hunting for food, or cooking and knitting. you were practically useless, to be harsh, but because of chan, you still have a spot in the pack, a home.

you still stayed with chan's pack despite being traditionally unwelcomed as a human. for what reason, you never knew. some suspected that you may be the alpha's mate, or because chan was just being more generous than usual.

either way, everyone has treated you politely at best, some friendlier and more docile than others. you still have a place to sleep and food to eat. you were still alive right now. and it was all because of chan. he doesn't seem to like you, but he kept you safe nonetheless.

the least you could do was think of a plan. you owe it to him to not panic.

"i–i got something! just move a little for me, chan, please?" you said as you tugged at his torso and attempted to drag him with you. "just to the tree here, really close, please?"

he huffed questioningly but complied. he didn't stand to walk, he wasn't able to. his heightened senses could feel the silver poison spreading through his veins, burning and burning to weaken his system.

all he could do was dig his claws into the ground and drag his body as you pull onto him. it took three big strides for you two to arrive at a snow-covered tree. when you two were there, you immediately took off your jacket and draped it over him.

chan grumbled in protest when you pulled him toward your chest. you snuggled him against you, covering his wound and making it appear as if you were just someone sitting under a tree with a sleeping wolf.

"this is going to work," you muttered to yourself, "we are going to be okay."

the swaying of the lantern sounded—the noise of a door creaking, the sound of a high-pitched rusty gear. the circle light expanded until they were blinding your eyes. it moved away with a creak of the rusty lantern and standing before you was the hunter you remember you nicked with your blade, holding a shotgun in his hand.

"hello? did you need some help?" you asked first, attempting to establish an upper hand in the situation.

it was possible that your face was not discovered at the bar, and there was also a possibility that chan was only known in his human form. you could pass off as a normal residence in this area who is friends with a wolf, that was all.

"this forest is pretty big, it is very easy to get lost," you said with a laugh. "i learned it the hard way."

the hunter raised his brow, suspicious but not backing down yet. he tilted his head, nudging it to the side. "really? i suppose you know how to navigate through it, then?"

you shook your head calmly, a hand sifting through chan's fur. "no, but my friend here does."

"a friend?" he questioned, glaring to the side when his friends snickered under their breath in disbelief. "a wolf is hardly a friend."

"only if you fail to domesticate it."

chan deadpanned quietly. he knew better than to protest loudly at such a thin-ice situation. but please, him? an alpha? being domesticated? what a joke!

"what are you doing here?" ignoring your remark, the hunter asked, to which you sneered gently and sighed.

"i asked you first," you said. "do you need help? this is a big forest."

chan twitched beneath your jacket. you spared him no glance but ran a hand through his fur to soothe him. tilting your head, you flashed an impatient look, urging someone to talk.

"we are... we are looking for two people. one of them a man with–"

"didn't see them. i was sleeping," you interrupted.

"uhm, we followed a trail of footprints and they lead us right to you," he said, gesturing toward the ground where the footprints stopped right at where you two left off.

you raised a brow then, your heart palpitating strongly. but you took a short look at the snowy ground and you relaxed. pulling chan's warm body against you, you slumped closer to the ground and faked a yawn.

"look at the prints, sir," you muttered, "do they look like they came from two people, or one person and one wolf?"

"you guys walked into the wrong forest, sir," you said after a plop of silence. "there are only me and the wolves here."

the man lightly dropped his hand. you raised a fair point, unfortunately for them. despite his suspicion, capturing you both on the spot would be a bad look for them. not to mention, this area is known to have normal wolves littering around befriending humans—more people would believe in your faux innocence than their werewolf story.

"alright then," he voiced, deciding to call the hunt off now. "still, you should be cautious around wolves. they are loyal only to their own, and you are not their own, if you understand what i mean."

chan eyed up at the men. there was a low growl in his throat, the hostility spreading through his instinct to protect your rightful place in the pack, as well as to protest their assumption that you will ever be hurt by his hands.

you kept silent as they took their leave. your mind lingered at the hunter's words, realizing that a part of you knew you thought of what he said before he told you. you could not possibly be considered as their own, after all.

"chan..." you called, "when will i outgrow my welcome in the pack...?"

he shifted, a whimper leaving his lips. his healing ability is ultimately weaker in his human form, but he felt that if he stayed in his wolf form to maintain as much health as he could, he would miss an opportunity to make you feel better. sometimes words do speak louder than action, especially when the action is unclear and ambiguous to the receiver.

“no...” 

steam flowed upwards when chan shifted back to his human form. his clothes were long gone since they got torn apart after his shift. pressing his head to your shoulder to mask the pain in his chest, he huffed, “no.”

that was not a yes or no question, but you understood.

“okay,” you said. “let’s get you home now.”

chan nodded weakly. however you planned to do that, he has no idea.

[peach-the-owl]

Rescued

Part 2 of Taken

Child of the Nein (Mighty Nein & Child!Reader)

I really hope this turned out as well as I imagined it to

Jester

You were honestly surprised to see your old caretaker again after so long, ever since that scuffle near Nicodranas you never did know what happened to them when they disappeared, forgetting about those worries when you met Jester not too long after. Yet here they were, after accidentally wandering away from Jester they come out of nowhere and whisk you off to who knows where, and they seemed to be in a hurry about it too. Throughout their little road trip you hoped that every turn or small stop would reveal Jester waiting to rescue you along with the rest of the Nein, sadly this wasn’t the case. Had you bothered to pay proper attention you’d know which city you were approaching but being dragged off the cart and through a variety of underground tunnels didn’t really help pinpoint things for you. You finally stop but at this point you'd decided to just keeping your eyes to the ground trying not to let fear take control over you.

"Alright! Here they are, just like I’d promised." Your caretaker, though now you scoff at the idea of this person ever caring for you, roughly pulls you forward into view, you keep your eyes on the ground. "Sooo… everything should be settled now, right? My debts payed and I’m free to go?" There’s a silence that feels like it lasts an eternity before a new voice, one you recognized speaks.

"The 'special cargo' you mentioned was… this child?" You peek up from your position and are shocked to see that the person your caretaker was negotiating with was none other then the Gentleman. He didn’t look surprised to see you but you hoped that was just so he could keep up with his appearance, you look to him with pleading eyes hoping that he could help you and you think you see a slight change in his expression as he leans over to whisper to one of his associates. When he’s done they hurry off somewhere and he turns his attention back to you. "And you speak the truth when you say they don’t have other connections or family?"

"Goodness no, this little thing has never been with anyone else but myself the whole time." They reply with a laugh, making you scowl at them. The Gentleman narrows his eyes and their laughter dies down quickly, getting a more nervous look.

"I don’t take kindly to those who think they can get away with lying to me." He says in a threatening tone, then snaps his fingers and two large henchmen grab the caretaker firmly by both arms.

"No, wait wait! Please! I-I'm not lying, the kid hasn’t been with anyone else but me!" They stammer, trying to sound convincing.

"Then I’m sure you have a reasonable explanation as to how this child in your possession looks exactly like my… one of my subordinates kids, or should I let (y/n) explain themselves." At the mention of your name the caretakers face completely drains of colour as realization creeps in. The Gentleman, completely unfazed waves his hand and his bodyguard, Sorah, walks over and frees you of your bindings while the others who still had the caretaker in their grip drag them off with them kicking and screaming that they were cheated and begging for another chance.

"Thank you." You say in a hushed voice, rubbing at your wrists.

"I’ve got someone to inform Jester of your whereabouts. You’re free to wait here until you’re retrieved, just don’t make a mess." You nod and go sit at one of the tables, pulling out a little notebook Jester gave you and begin writing and drawing in it to help pass time…

"(Y/n)!" You look up from your drawing to see Jester bounding up to you, easily picking you up and twirls you around in a big hug that you are more then happy to return. "I was so worried about you. We tried to follow but you were already so far away I didn’t know if I’d find you again." She wipes a few tears away and places a kiss to your forehead, you just snuggle into her more. "Thank you for helping them dad. See you do care!" She turns her attention to the Gentleman who in return gives an exaggerated sigh and rubs at his temples.

"We’ve been over this already… but you’re welcome." The second part came out more as a mutter. The two of you happily wave, and you quickly pick up your notebook before Jester makes her way out of the bar with you securely in her arms.

Nott

You’re thrown into a pit very much against your will, the pit itself was 40 feet wide with you on one side and on the other side of it a snarling owlbear chained to a wall, though the chains didn't look like they’d hold for much longer. Oh why did you have to let the allure of sparkly things get the better of you?

"Ladies, gentlemen! Place your bets!" One of the hosts called to the crowd. "Our fierce killer Dezmo or the half pint!"

"What kinda dumb name is Dezmo?" You mutter to yourself. You don’t have a lot of time to think about it as a high pitched whistle rings in your ears, irritating them. By the looks of it the sound was irritating the owlbear too, as it thrashes and roars in aggravation, the chains give way and the owlbear instantly starts charging for you. Thinking fast you dart under the beast, which compared to your tiny size towers over you, and start looking for any sort of escape route or places to hide. The beast spins around and swats at you, you managing to just barely duck out of the way and the crowd goes crazy for it.

"Come on folks, if you’re really confident place your final bets now and let’s see if the half pint can keep up." They blow that stupid whistle again, further aggravating the owlbear as it try’s charging you again, the audience hoots and hollers over it. These people were awful cheering for a large monster to attack child, then again they probably saw you as a monster too which disheartened you to know you were nothing but entertainment for them. You’re struck by a heavy blow from the beast, crashing into a wall and left teetering on the verge of losing consciousness, the beast stalks forward, rears up for a final strike but it ends up screeching in pain instead. A familiar goblin mom steps in front of you as a barrier between the monster and yourself, hissing menacingly at the it. The owlbear try's rearing up again, this time more focused on Nott who shoots another bolt from her crossbow nailing the beast in the eye. Your picked up and handed to Jester by Yasha as she and Beau also enter the pit, the audience were surprisingly enthused by this, cheering for a good fight, the only people unamused by this were the hosts to the whole ordeal.

"Oi! What'd ya think you’re doin'! That was our money maker you just shot!" One calls down, they’re answered with a bolt lodging itself into their collarbone and they cry out in pain.

"That’s what you get for using a child to get your sick kicks!" Nott yells ferociously. With Yasha and Beau having made swift work to the owlbear, Nott climbs her way out of the pit, going over to Jester as she finishes using Cure Wounds on you. "Are you alright? Do you need me to carry you?" She asks, already taking you into her arms and placing kisses all over your face. You just wrap your arms around her neck and hide your face in her shoulder, she takes this as her sign to leave and with the others following not far behind walks through the crowd towards the exit.

"Oh yeah, we also called the local guard, they should be here any minute!" You hear Jester shout before you all hurry away.

Caleb

This strange woman had come out of nowhere, took you by the hand and walked off from where Caleb told you to wait without a word, you tried to pull away but her grip was firm as she tugged you along. She lead your unwilling self through alleys, stopping every now and again, waiting for areas to be less populated before heading off again.

"Where are we going? Where'd you even come from?" You been asking these questions several times but the woman would just ignore them.

"Hush now dear, if I let go you’ll try to run from mommy again. If you did that mommy would have a hard time finding you like the first time. Now be a good kid and stay close, we're going home." You knew for a fact this woman wasn’t your mother and this "home" she spoke of was not where you wanted to go. Using your head you tried to think if there was any spell you could use to free yourself of the woman’s iron grip, you try to reach for your little bag but the woman snatches it and slings it over her own shoulder. "No need for that, you can play when we make it to the boat." Wait… boat? Was she trying to get you off Wildemount?

"No I don’t want to leave! You’re not my mom, let me go I don’t want to go with you!" You try shouting to get someone’s attention.

"Oh you and your wild imagination, enough games, let’s go." She had a weirdly sweet voice but it only furthered your unease around her. You try thrashing, pulling and reaching for your bag multiple times but still the woman’s grip held firm as you were dragged to the docks. Fear started creeping in, you couldn’t free yourself from her steely grip and who knows where she’s trying to take you. Worst of all if you couldn’t get away you might never see Caleb or anyone ever again, that thought alone made you start to cry. "Oh, don’t cry dear, see we're almost home free." Up ahead was what you’d have to assume to be the boat she was talking about, you tried one more time to wriggle free of her grasp to no avail.

The woman’s steps come to a halt making you pause and also look up to see a wall of fire blaze across the docks, blocking entry to the boat. Your fears dying down when you see a rather angry Caleb march his way towards you, the rest of the Nein not far behind.

"You," Caleb raises an arm pointing at this woman, his voice coming out almost as a hiss. "Get your filthy hands off of my child."

"They’re not yours they’re mine! I will not let you take them from me!" Those who were on the ship must’ve worked or had some relation to this woman as they join her and get into an offensive stance. Before long a fight breaks out between the Nein and the ships crew and once again the woman tries to drag you along with her. "It’s alright dear, they won’t get you." Her sweet demeanour was breaking, getting more and more crazy every time she talked. You butt you head against her as a response making her loosen her grip, you try to bolt as far away from her as you could, calling out for Caleb as you do. There’s a sudden grip on the collar of your shirt and you're yanked back into the woman’s arms, her face full of fury.

"If I can’t have a child of my own… Then they won’t either!" The woman screeches like a psychopath and throws the both of you into the ocean, you shrieking in fear. There's the hard impact from the surface of the water followed by a feeling of figurative and literal sinking into the dark depths, you try and wriggle yourself free but this crazy woman refused to let go and with smaller lungs you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep this up before running out of air. As a last resort you take your chance and bite the woman’s arm as hard as you can, ending up drawing blood, her screams of pain muffled in the water but you’re able to break free of her grip, manage to grab your bag and kick her down farther as you try to swim for the surface. Flailing your legs and arms to propel yourself forward was harder then you thought, your cloths weighing you down quite a bit, but before you completely lose hope and air there’s a dulled splash and soon something grabs you, hauling you out of the water. You gasp for air again and cough up a bit of sea water noticing you’re soaring high in the sky, looking up over your shoulder at the giant, orange eagle and instantly know who it is, a smile placing itself on your face.

Having safely made it back to land you’re carefully placed down and shiver from the chilly ocean air that blew in, trying your best to squeeze out as much water from your cloths as possible. There’s a ruffling of feathers before you find yourself wrapped up by two large wings, the head of the giant bird nuzzling itself into you and helping warm you up again. You always like when Caleb polymorphed into animals, he was always more willing for cuddles that way, with that said, you wrap your arms around his neck as best you can and nuzzle him back with no arguments.

Caduceus

These people were heartless, taking "exotic specimens" to be sold or traded for their own selfish needs, you used to not be the only one occupying your little cell but the others didn’t stay long and you feared you’d be next. Of course being a druid meant you could use something like Wildshape to escape, and of course you would’ve loved to use it too had it not been for some sort of magic nullifying enchantment on the restraints you were shackled in. With no means of using magic to your disposal and no way to call for help with the gag in your mouth you resorted to try thrashing around, attempting to tug free of the shackles that chained you to a wall. All this lead to was having your wrists rubbed raw, still you fought through the pain praying they’d eventually give, the stinging feeling only getting worse and harder to ignore until you felt something warm and wet running down your arms. You're hesitant to look, but see that your insistent tugging caused the shackles to cut into your wrists making them start bleed, badly. You take in deep and slow breaths through your nose to keep yourself calm, seeing as you had no way to cast any healing spell in your situation you try not to panic and slow the blood flow as best as possible. Tears stream down your face, the pain wasn’t helping with your wrist this sensitive it only amplified the feeling of the shackles digging into them, and you were starting to feel lightheaded.

A commotion and the sounds of people fighting catch your ears whipping your head in the direction it was coming from, then instantly regret that choice at the dizziness it caused. You try to make a sound, only muffled noises getting passed the fabric covering your mouth but you persist hoping someone hears you. The fighting dies down as silence takes over, making you worry whoever was here had lost the battle or left, until the cell door opens and two familiar people step in, hurrying over to you. Caduceus helps to remove the rag over your mouth while Nott makes quick work of the shackles seeing the bloody mess on your wrists. The second your wrists are free you feel a gentle, soothing sensation spread over them looking down to watch the lichen cover up the cuts before crumpling away, leaving behind hairline scars. You gently rub at your wrists to help regain circulation in them before leaning your full weight into Caduceus with a soft sobs.

"Shhh, it’s going to be okay, I’m here." Caduceus hushes you, wrapping his arms around your smaller form in a secure embrace.

"They-they were gonna try and sell me away." You hiccup through your tears.

"It’s alright now, we took care of them, they won’t be taking anyone anymore." He calmly reassures, you give a small nod and cuddle yourself into his chest more. Finally feeling safe and secure you let yourself pass out from the exhaustion you’ve felt.

Fjord

You kicked and flailed in hopes of wiggling free from this thugs grasp on you, all this while screaming at the top of your lungs in the hopes that your cry’s of distress would be loud enough to alert the rest of your sleeping group. Sure your voice would be ruined for a while but that was a small sacrifice you were willing to make if it meant freedom.

"Oh would you shut up! Why haven’t you gagged them yet!?" This groups leader calls over his shoulder getting very agitated with you, good that means your plan was working.

"They won’t stop squirming."

"Then hold them still idiots!" The one that had you thrown over their shoulder try’s using his free hand to hold you down, you swing your head over and bite them without hesitation, they retract their hand and slightly loosen their grip just enough for you to move your arms, perfect. The other two goons come closer to try and restrain you better, you focus and when they’re close enough in range…

"Thunderwave!" You shout, using the newly gained mobility in your arms to flick your hands out and cast the spell. The two goons are knocked back and the one that was holding you is knocked to the ground releasing their grip in the process, a loud thunderous boom shakes through the trees, if that didn’t alert anyone you don’t know what would. Knowing you weren’t a match against 4 men at once you sprint in the direction you came as fast as possible, trying to stay close to the path while using the trees for extra cover. You take a second to catch your breath, all the screaming and shouting did a real number to your throat, it felt dry and it hurt to even attempt making a noise now.

"Keep searching, the brat couldn’t have gotten far!" You could hear the bandits approaching and go to make another run for it, but are caught and thrown harshly to the dirt path. In an attempt to push yourself off the ground you feel a foot press heavily against your back, pushing you into the jagged gravel. "Didn’t ya hear my warning?" They mockingly ask, pressing the cold steel of their blade against your neck. "I’m not against killing you kid." They slowly start to press the blade deeper into your neck, feeling it pierce the skin and draw blood. The feeling of the blade suddenly leaves you, but your left still bleeding and having a hard time controlling your breath from the panic of almost having your throat slit.

A calming sensation eases in and your breathing starts improving again, even the dryness in your throat feels a little better but you’re still not well enough to talk. You look up at Caduceus, being the one who healed you and give him a smile and a thumbs up, he returns the smile and ruffles your hair before helping you back on your feet properly. Fjord soon comes up to you and kneels down to your height, placing his hands on your shoulders, a heavy look of guilt on his face.

"Are you alright?" His voice wavered a little. You rub your neck a little as a ways to show it was sore but give a small nod. "Thank the Wildemother, I was so worried. I’m sorry I let this happen to you, I should’ve…" He trails off a bit, tightening his grip on your shoulders. You just lean forward and give him a hug, locking your arms around his neck as your body shakes a little from the whole encounter, he lets out a breath before returning the hug, securing his arms around you and lifting you up in the process. He then starts making his way back to camp, the rest of Nein in tow.

Beau

These ninjas, if you could even call them that, must’ve really underestimated their opponent, sure they were able to capture you but that was because they had numbers on their side while you were just one kid, that didn’t stop you from breaking free and taking them on. What did they even want with you anyways, you saw one drop a note by accident, did someone hire them? Either way you had to be careful the longer you took them on the more exhausted you were starting to feel. You go to land another hit on one of them when a sound you knew well hits your ears and makes you freeze on the spot, and suddenly feel helpless. That sound was the chime of a silver bell, not bronze or gold no particularly silver, you knew that chime all too well and you hated it and the effects it had on you. How did they even- you cut off your own thoughts at a terrifying realization… did your parents send them? Having lost focus you get socked in the jaw and lay limply on the ground, trying to process what was happening. You then hear pained grunts and look over to see Beau fighting off the enemies with some backup from Caleb and Caduceus. You push yourself off the ground but can’t make yourself do more them that, just watching the fight come to an end.

"No one messes with my kid." Beau growls angrily before making her way over to you. "You doing alright (y/n)? If you need any healing I can get Caduceus to check on you." You shake your head, a few stray tears escaping you which Beau defiantly didn’t miss. "Whoa! Hey, you sure you’re alright?" She asks with more concern now.

"I know who sent them." You speak just above a whisper, voice quivering as you do. An arm wraps around your shoulder as Beau joins in sitting next to you, finding yourself leaning into her side as she rubs your arm in a comforting way.

"Tell me who." She spoke with a serious tone, clearly ready to take down whoever caused you this type of grief.

"My parents." You look away from her and shrink a little into yourself.

"What? How can you tell?" She asks, surprised by this. You point over at the discarded bell left laying on the ground.

"Before they sent me away that was how they 'trained' me, they’d ring a bell whenever I’d misbehave… It was always a silver bell." You shift uncomfortably at the memories and feel Beau tighten her grip on you.

"Well, if they want you back so badly, they’re gonna have to pry you from my cold dead hands themselves." You look up at her in shock, she gives you a side smile. "You’re my student and technically my kid now too. Don’t think I’m gonna let 'The Man' take you that easily without a fight." You smile at this and she ruffles up your hair earning a small laugh from you too.

Yasha

It was terrifying to be without Yasha for this long with these dangerous brutes, what did they even want with you? It’s not like you could offer anything valuable to them or were they just doing this for their own sick kicks. You didn’t want to think too much on it, instead looking for any sort of opening to escape but finding nothing that wouldn’t lead to a confrontation. You could try and test your luck and just snap free of your binding, but it’s never faired well in the past and you didn’t want to end up on the end of a stake, that thought alone makes you shudder.

"Intruders are here!" You hear one shout as the others leave the room, this was your chance, now that they were distracted you easily snap out of the rope they’d tied you in and go to grab your weapon they left discarded on the floor, how rude of them. Being a sneaky as possible your make your way towards the exit and see the brutes fighting against the Mighty Nein. Yasha was facing off with the largest of the brutes well in a rage, screaming at them to tell her where you were. You weren’t sure how battle ready you were at the current time, but you wanted to help so gripping your sword in hand you charge at the brute from behind and take a large swing, slicing into the back of his knee. The brute roars in pain and does a wide sweep with his battle axe, you try to jump back but your earlier forward momentum makes you stagger and get hit by the blade, knocking you backwards by the sheer force.

You skid across the ground gripping tightly to your gut, slowly being surrounded by a puddle of your own blood, it was excruciating as you pitifully try to stop the heavy blood flow by holding your stomach tighter. You try to focus on staying conscious as an angry roar like thunder tears through the cave, you could only guess it to be Yasha having seen what just happened. It feels like an eternity before the pain slowly starts to disappear, the soft light of Jester's healing magic makes you blink open your eyes and look up at her, she gives you a smile and helps you to your feet. You wobble a little but catch yourself and walk back over to the group where you see them finish off the last of the brutes, Yasha taking a big swing bisecting them from the shoulder to their waist. When she looks over and sees you standing there she drops her weapon and runs to you, scooping you into her arms and lets out a few sobs.

"You had me so scared. I thought I lost you too." You grip tightly to her and just share in this sweet reunion.

"I’m sorry I scared you." You apologize, but she shakes her head.

"No, you have nothing to be sorry for, and you’re safe now that’s what matters." She breaths out, with a sigh of relief. She then carries you out of the cave and finally back together again you go to join up with the Mighty Nein.

Molly

Numb, that’s all you could feel right now was just numb, these Iron Shepherds had no mercy no matter the age and it showed from the various scars and bruises you received. You lay in the dingy cell they’d placed you in, if you could you would’ve taken this time to think back on your decisions that lead to this moment but you were just too mentally and physically drained to care anymore. As numb as you were everything still hurt, and you felt so exhausted, you just wanted this to end or for something to happen. So stuck in your own head the rest of the world was drowned out to you making you miss the sounds of footsteps and shouts ring throughout the hideout.

There’s a screeching sound of a cell door being opened, you curl in on yourself in a hopeless attempt to prepare for whatever beating may be coming your way. There’s no pain just a hand placing itself on your shoulder, you instinctually flinch away from the touch, they were playing cruel mind games with you now, they had to be, there was just no other explanation for someone trying to be so careful with you. Whoever it was they were persistent, gently taking you into their arms and lifting you up, feeling a strangely comforting warmth wash over you compared to the cold stone floor you were just laying on. They were whispering something you couldn’t quite catch but you try your best to focus and listen.

"Everything’s gonna be alright now love, I promise. They’re not going to hurt you anymore." There voice came out softly as you’re held in their protective grip. Slowly you regain more and more focus and finally notice the familiar colours of a very elaborate coat, feeling tears well up in your eyes at the relief that this wasn’t some cruel trick by your captors and was in fact reality. With the small amount of strength you still had you carefully raise your arms to return the embrace and start weeping uncontrollably, letting out all the tears you’d been holding back. Molly's grip on you tightens slightly, being careful to not hurt you as though you were fragile and could break at a moments notice. "We had ourselves a long day, haven’t we? Let’s get you out of this hellhole." With that he exits the dingy cell and carries you out of the Sour Nest.

[bloody-bee-tea]

if you're still taking requests for november fics, could you write a fic where jc has social anxiety? maybe a modern au ... maybe he cries in public (which is Not good when you have social anxiety) if you decide to write this, thank you! :)

JC Love Month 2020 Day 8

Cliff

So not gonna lie, this totally got away from me, but I still give you JC with an almost debilitating social anxiety but the Nies are there for him yet again ;) Yes, I borrowed part of the plot from My Shy Boss, but I have only ever seen that one scene.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know what‘s happening when Su She and Jin Zixun storm into his office and proceed to drag him out of it. He tries to tell them to stop, tries to break free, but they both have a very tight grip on him, and so all his struggles get Jiang Cheng nowhere.

There’s fear already settling into his gut and he doesn’t even want to think about what these two are going to do.

“You think you’re so high and mighty, sitting in your office all day, and never coming to presentations,” Su She sneers and Jin Zixun nods.

“Yeah, but guess what, pretty boy,” he says and then he laughs at his own joke.

Jiang Cheng thinks nothing about this is worth laughing about.

“Since you are always the one to make the presentations, you also get to hold it today! Isn’t that fun?” he wants to know and now Jiang Cheng struggles again.

He can’t hold a presentation. There’s a reason he’s in the most tucked away office, only working on preparing presentations and overseeing the paperwork and it’s because Jiang Cheng cannot speak to people.

Or in front of them.

“No—let go—,” he tries, but of course neither Su She nor Jin Zixun are listening to him.

It seems like his attempts to stop them only make them laugh more.

They are dragging him towards the conference room and Jiang Cheng goes ice cold with his panic.

He can’t be in front of these people. They will look at him and they will expect him to speak and when he doesn’t they will start to whisper and try to talk to him and Jiang Cheng cannot do this.

“Don’t,” he whispers, struggling in their grasp again, but the conference room is coming closer and closer, and Jiang Cheng’s heart is beating way too fast to be healthy.

“Have fun, pretty boy,” Jin Zixun tells him as he pushes the hood of Jiang Cheng’s pullover off his head and then they push him into the room.

Jiang Cheng stumbles over his feet but he eventually comes to a stop, right at the front of the table, and Jiang Cheng maybe should have simply let himself faceplant into the floor.

It would probably have been less humiliating than this.

There is another man at the front, who hands Jiang Cheng a microphone and Jiang Cheng accepts it out of reflex more than anything. His eyes are fixed on Su Shen and Jin Zixun who sat down in the sea of people by now and it’s only then that it hits Jiang Cheng how huge the room is.

And just how many people are staring at him.

He thinks he makes a surprised—or panicked—noise but he can’t actually hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears and for a split second Jiang Cheng thinks he’ll simply faint.

He doesn’t, sadly, and the people keep staring at him.

Someone started the presentation behind him, Jiang Cheng is dimly aware of that, and he thinks he’s supposed to speak, supposed to explain what the graphs and numbers mean, but Jiang Cheng can only stare at the mass of people in front of him.

“You should start,” the person who handed him the microphone says, and Jiang Cheng startles so badly he almost drops it.

“I—” he starts, but he can’t form words, can’t bring his tongue to do what he wants and even the thoughts in his head are all jumbled up.

“Give the presentation!” Su She yells and Jiang Cheng hones in on him, because at least he’s a familiar face in the sea of unknown people.

It doesn’t help much with calming down, because Su She is the reason he’s in this position in the first place and the other people are starting to mutter now, so Jiang Cheng drags his eyes away from him.

He’s shaking all over, his hand tightly clutched around the microphone and it feels like he’s dangling over a cliff, seconds away from falling, and at the moment the microphone is the only thing that stops him from falling.

“I—the com—I’m—” Jiang Cheng tries, but he can’t even finish half of his words, and he knows they wouldn’t come out in the right order either and now people are openly talking about him.

Someone is even pointing a finger at him and Jiang Cheng’s whole vision goes black for a moment. He can barely breathe, his breath coming in short and rapid gasps and he knows this is only going to accelerate the panic attack, but he can’t stop himself, can’t stop himself from shaking or stuttering, either, and he hears his father’s voice in his mind, telling him how stupid he is, how useless if he can’t even speak properly, and Jiang Cheng feels hot mortification slice through him when a tear rolls down his cheek.

He wants to run away, wants to get out of this room, but he’s rooted to the spot and he doesn’t know which way safety lies at all.

The voices in the room get louder and louder and Jiang Cheng thinks the moderator is saying something—probably urging Jiang Cheng to speak—but Jiang Cheng’s eyes dart through the room and he sees all eyes on him, knows that everyone is looking and talking and that it’s all about him because he’s the centre of attention and it’s all too much.

The tears are flowing more freely now, only adding to Jiang Cheng’s panic but he can’t seem to stop, can’t even seem to raise his hand to wipe them off, and it’s only when he tries that he realizes he was still holding on to the microphone, because it falls to the floor with a loud, discordant noise.

It only adds to the chaos and panic in Jiang Cheng and he thinks he might just throw up, here in front of everyone, when someone suddenly blocks his view.

Blocks Jiang Cheng from everyone else’s view, really, because the man is towering over him and he’s wide enough to act as a cover as well.

“Breathe,” a voice tells him and Jiang Cheng sucks in a breath purely because the man told him to but it doesn’t seem like he’s satisfied because he instructs him to breathe again and again, his voice calm and measured, the time between his orders always the same.

It takes embarrassingly long before Jiang Cheng can manage to breathe on his own, but as soon as he does, the man ushers him out of the room, without another word to the assembled people. Jiang Cheng catches one last look at Su She and Jin Zixun before he leaves the room and their smug expressions makes him want to throw up on them but even the thought of stepping back into the room has Jiang Cheng hyperventilating again.

“Breathe,” the man reminds him again, one large hand on his back and Jiang Cheng sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“Good,” the man praises him and then leads him into another huge room, though this one is blissfully empty.

Jiang Cheng sees a couch inside the office and his feet carry him towards it without his conscious thought but when he reaches it he crouches down in front of it instead of sitting down on it, and he presses his forehead to the cushions.

His heart is still racing, and there are still tears in his eyes, the panic tightly gripping his heart and stomach and mind, and Jiang Cheng wants to do nothing more than go home and curl up under his blanket.

“What do you need?” the man suddenly asks him, startling Jiang Cheng badly, because he had honestly forgotten that he wasn’t alone, and any resemblance of calm leaves him in an instant.

“Shhh, it’s okay, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the man immediately says, clearly picking up on the fact that Jiang Cheng is spiralling again and he takes a few steps back.

But then he seems to come to a conclusion because instead of backing further away, he suddenly marches up at Jiang Cheng and before Jiang Cheng can scramble to get out of the way—he doubts he could have made it, with how his legs feel—the man hauls Jiang Cheng up.

Jiang Cheng barely has time to think before the man pulls him close, pressing Jiang Cheng’s face into his shoulder and resting a grounding hand at the back of Jiang Cheng’s neck.

“It’s okay, just breathe,” the man says again, and by now Jiang Cheng realizes that he should recognize that voice, but his mind is still too foggy to continue that thought.

Jiang Cheng hates being in the presence of people he doesn’t know well, hates being the centre of attention, and even though he clearly is both of these things right now, their position allows him to pretend that he’s not.

It’s a very comfortable position to be in; he can’t actually see anything and the hand at his nape is the perfect weight to keep him in the present.

Jiang Cheng wonders if he can book this man to follow him around to do this every time Jiang Cheng has a meltdown.

He stays where he is for longer than is maybe necessary, but Jiang Cheng knows that as soon as the man lets go of him there will be questions he has to answer, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t know if he can.

He’s not just a mess in front of multiple people; usually just one is enough to tie his tongue and make him skirt the edge of a breakdown.

“Will you be alright if I let go of you?” the man suddenly asks and Jiang Cheng jerks, but his reaction is not as bad as it was before.

“No,” he says after a moment of deliberation and the man squeezes his neck in acknowledgement and then simply let’s Jiang Cheng compose himself in peace.

It takes long—longer than it has in quite some time—before Jiang Cheng feels ready to move away from the man.

When he finally does he really wishes he wouldn’t have, because that’s Nie Mingjue.

That’s the CEO of the company Jiang Cheng works for, and he’s pretty sure with the display he just put on, he’s going to be out of a job soon enough.

Especially if Nie Mingjue was in the conference room to see his complete meltdown.

“I’m Nie Mingjue,” the man introduces himself, startling a laugh out of Jiang Cheng who slaps a hand over his mouth.

“You know that,” Nie Mingjue says with a small smile and Jiang Cheng nods.

“My—I’m—Jiang Cheng,” Jiang Cheng finally just presses out when his words continue to fail him and Nie Mingjue nods at him.

“I know that, actually,” he tells Jiang Cheng who goes white at that.

If Nie Mingjue knows who he is it can only be because someone had a complaint about him or because the work he does is so bad that Jiang Cheng is about to be fired.

“It’s not what you think,” Nie Mingjue reassures him. “The work you do is excellent. That’s why I know who you are.”

Jiang Cheng’s mind is spinning like crazy because none of this makes any sense, least of all Nie Mingjue praising him for his work, and he doesn’t know how to react to it either.

“Are you feeling better? Is there anything I can do?” Nie Mingjue asks, and Jiang Cheng forces himself to get it together.

It’s already shameful enough that he can’t keep it together in front of people; making his boss realize just what a mess he is, is not going to help him any.

“I’m alright,” Jiang Cheng says, glad when his voice holds out and his thoughts don’t come out all mangled up and Nie Mingjue gives him a very doubtful look.

“My little brother used to react like that in face of other people as well. I know you’re not okay,” Nie Mingjue says and Jiang Cheng flinches.

Used to. Which means Nie Mingjue’s brother eventually grew out of it, very much unlike Jiang Cheng.

“I see,” he whispers, shame curling in his gut again, because he never managed to overcome his fear like Nie Mingjue’s brother did.

“Stop it,” Nie Mingjue chastises him and when Jiang Cheng flinches he puts his hand on his neck again.

Jiang Cheng instantly relaxes.

“My brother has years of therapy behind him and he had a very good support system, that made sure he didn’t get into situations like this unsupervised. I’m guessing you had neither, especially given the fact that you’re working for me, instead of your father.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes burn again, because no. His father never thought it would be worth it to send Jiang Cheng to therapy, seeing as he somehow still managed to function in every-day life and even got a degree, and while Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian were always sympathetic, they had their own life and struggles, so they couldn’t support Jiang Cheng as much as he needed.

“He said I can’t lead the company, if I’m being like that,” Jiang Cheng whispers. “And he claimed he didn’t have another job for me either.”

“So you had Lan Xichen put in a word with me,” Nie Mingjue nods and Jiang Cheng shrugs awkwardly.

“I know I wouldn’t have made it through a job interview. Xichen promised that I would be judged based on my work once I got in.”

“And you are,” Nie Mingjue says. “The work you do is excellent.”

Jiang Cheng doubts that, because he’s only working behind the scenes, doing the paperwork no one else wants to do, he knows that, but it’s still nice to hear it.

“The work you do is important,” Nie Mingjue says as if he can read Jiang Cheng’s mind, and by now Jiang Cheng is inclined to believe that, however fantastical it sounds because no one has been able to read Jiang Cheng like this in a long time.

“It’s unloved work, yes, but mostly because everyone I had in that position before found it too difficult. I didn’t hear that complaint from you, yet.”

“Because it’s not,” Jiang Cheng whispers.

Sure, it’s a lot of work, but it’s not that difficult once you understand the workings of the company, and Jiang Cheng finds himself with hours to spare more often than not.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Nie Mingjue says and takes his hand back, much to Jiang Cheng’s dismay.

“I’m sorry I butchered the presentation today,” Jiang Cheng says, because he’s uncomfortable with the praise he’s getting.

Mostly because he’s not used to that, but Jiang Cheng pushes that thought away.

“It wasn’t your presentation to give,” Nie Mingjue says and he seems angry now. “Weren’t Jin Zixun and Su She supposed to give it?”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng nods. “But they thought since I prepared it, it would only be fair if I gave it too. They are tired of doing my work for me, apparently,” Jiang Cheng whispers and waits for Nie Mingjue’s judgement on that.

“And I am tired of them acting like that,” Nie Mingjue says and rubs a hand over his face. “That’s harassment of a colleague and it’s more than enough reason to finally fire them.”

“Finally?” Jiang Cheng dares to ask.

“I’ve been looking for a reason to fire them for a while now,” Nie Mingjue says with a shrug. “But while they are shit at their job, they are excellent at covering their tracks, so I didn’t have sufficient reason yet. This finally gives it to me.”

“Ah, I see,” Jiang Cheng says with a wince, because it hasn’t been them who covered their tracks.

That was all Jiang Cheng. And maybe it’s time he admits to that.

“I—it’s not them,” he says and when Nie Mingjue’s eyes fall on him the so familiar panic starts to build in his chest again.

“Breathe,” Nie Mingjue says instantly and Jiang Cheng does.

It helps.

“I have been covering their tracks for them,” he admits once his breath regulates again and Nie Mingjue fixes him with a glare.

“What?”

“They said they would make me talk to people,” Jiang Cheng says and shrinks in on himself again. “They did this today, because I refused to fix their mistake last time,” he then whispers and Nie Mingjue slams a hand down on the table.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says immediately afterwards, clearly having noticed Jiang Cheng’s flinch. “What absolute shit-stains,” he mutters and reaches for his phone, before he hesitates. “If I call my brother here, will you be alright?” he wants to know and Jiang Cheng hesitates, but in the end he nods.

It’s not quite as bad with fewer people around and if it’s the brother who suffered the same, then he at least will understand.

“Huaisang is so going to love raining hell on them,” Nie Mingjue says and makes the call.

Nie Huaisang, it turns out, loves nothing more than to rain hell on them.

Jiang Cheng tries to make himself very small on the couch where he finally took a seat, but of course Nie Huaisang notices him the second he comes in, but he doesn’t pay him much attention, seemingly too excited to get rid of Su She and Jin Zixun.

It’s only when they have finalized their plans—with no input from Jiang Cheng at all—that Nie Huaisang turns towards him.

“And who might you be?” Nie Huaisang asks him and Nie Mingjue puts a hand to his shoulder.

“He exposed them today,” Nie Mingjue tells him. “Be gentle, he has social anxiety just like you.”

“Oh, I see,” Nie Huaisang says, suddenly a lot more relaxed than before, but Jiang Cheng stiffens when he bounds over. “What therapist do you go to?”

“None,” Jiang Cheng forces himself to say and he wants the couch to swallow him when Nie Huaisang simply blinks at him.

“Da-ge,” he then says and Nie Mingjue sighs.

“I know, Huaisang.”

“Okay,” Nie Huaisang nods, and plops down next to Jiang Cheng, who has no idea what just happened. “We’re going to recommend you to my therapist,” Nie Huaisang says and Jiang Cheng stares at him.

“What?”

“If you’re just like me then it’s a really bad case, right? You can’t go on like this. We’re going to get you the help you deserve,” Nie Huaisang decides and then smiles sheepishly when Nie Mingjue pointedly clears his throat.

“I mean, if you want to. We’re going to help you if you want to.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes dart over to Nie Mingjue who nods encouragingly at him and it never before occurred to Jiang Cheng that this is something that requires professional help.

His father always made it sound like if he can’t deal with it by himself, then that’s just because he’s too weak to overcome this.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know at all what to do with the support he’s being given right now.

“Whoever you’re thinking about, I’m going to kill them for you,” Nie Huaisang cheerfully says, because clearly everyone in this room can read him now. “Well, I’m going to have da-ge kill them for you, but, semantics.”

“Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue chides him but it startles a laugh out of Jiang Cheng.

He hasn’t laughed in front of others for way too long, he knows that, and he’s surprised by his own reaction.

But something about being around the Nie brothers makes it feel easy.

“Okay,” he agrees, and he leaves it entirely open to what he agrees.

Going by the wide smile on Nie Huaisang’s face, he picked up on that almost immediately.

“We’re going to keep him,” Nie Huaisang decides and Jiang Cheng would object to ‘being kept’ but no one bothered to even like him in a long time—his condition not making it easy, Jiang Cheng knows that, but still—and so he can’t find it in him to complain about that.

“Of course,” Nie Mingjue says, as if there has never been any doubt about that, and it settles something in Jiang Cheng.

Maybe here it doesn’t matter that he can’t string two coherent sentences together. Maybe here, he will be accepted for who he is.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[reddie-is-my-life]

Hi

I’m not sure if any of the people that follow me are even active anymore but its been a couple of years since i posted on this account. I’ve written a couple things throughout the time that I actually posted on this account which is what this post is about. I was scrolling through my wips and turns out I have a not completed fic that could really be considered a drabble. Anyways, I wanted to post it just to say i did. You don’t have to read it. Or you can. Its up to you. I wrote this in 2018 so if you do decide to read it don’t be harsh. Thank you.

The thrum of the music under his feet guides him further into the pack of bodies grinding against each other. The smell of sweat, weed and alcohol curls around him making his nose scrunch up from distaste, the further he walks into the house. Someone in the crowd bumps into him slamming their shoulder into him, making him stumble slightly before someone reaches out to steady him. He decides to not acknowledge the hand considering the owner of said hand is the one to blame for his presence at the party. The same hand leads him into the open kitchen where all the liquor is lined up on the counter.   

“Come on Eddie, I know you don’t wanna be here but at least don’t look like a 5 year-old that got their favorite toy taken away from them,” Bill pouts already reaching for the bottle of whiskey.

“Oh, I’m sorry for being so petulant. I should’ve realized that it was hurting your feelings Billy. I also didn’t realize that your favorite toy was a party filled with people that don’t care who sees them wasted and filled with idiocy ,” Eddie snaps back. 

Bill only raises his shot of whiskey in the direction of the other boy before tipping it back. Swallowing he takes a moment before he responds, “You seem snarkier than usual, something up?”  this time he takes a step closer as if it’ll block the dark room, loud music, and the dozens of people surrounding them. 

Even if Eddie wanted to talk about it, he sure as hell would never hold a heart to heart conversation with Bill in front of so many people. Instead he shakes his head and reaches for the cooler filled to the brim with beers. Expertly popping the cap off with his car keys he turns to Bill again finally meeting his expectant eyes, “It’s nothing, I just have a small headache is all,” it wasn’t a complete lie, he did feel the beginning fingers of a migraine graze his head. Ignoring it he decides to change the subject before the other man decided to pry more, “So what’s the deal with this guy? He’s got a pretty nice house to be someone of the middle working class.”

It was true after all, no one with decent money income could afford a sleek looking chandelier hanging in the middle of what looked to be the living room. The couches seemingly pushed next to the walls giving more space for people to grind against each other. The couches were filled with people either shotgunning or just full on making out. The sound system though, playing songs that made him skeptical about the type of music the host listened to, seemed mighty expensive even from his vantage point in the kitchen. The place itself was big, the open kitchen looking out into the living room and what seemed to be a room with a pool table, leading into a hallway Eddie was sure was a couple bedrooms. He wondered if the rest of the place would look just as expensive as the part that was filled with people. Maybe he would sneak away and explore the rest of the house if Bill got caught up with someone else. 

Bill nods his head in agreement, “Yeah, it is a pretty damn good house. The guy that invited me here, Ben,” he takes a second as if remembering the man. And if he’d be damned he thinks Bill is blushing lightly ,”he’s, uh, best friends with the host. Said he was a radio host or something and he had his own show even. He also said he would be here but I haven’t seen him yet,” he looks around the room but it’s no use due to how smokey and dark the whole house is. 

Looking at his friend more closely he realizes that he is indeed blushing like some schoolgirl with her crush instead of a 25 year old man. He wonders when Bill met this so-called Ben and when he had formed his crush. But more importantly he wonders why in the world Bill never even mentioned him to him. Eddie was surely privy to this information, he was his best friend after all. Perhaps Bill finds you annoying now. Maybe Bill doesn’t even want to be friends with you but is too nice to tell you directly so he brought you to the party you didn’t want to go to so you would leave him. Perhaps Bill finally sees you for who you really are. You dirty-, “Hey Bill, do you happen to have a crush on this Ben fellow?” 

“Uh, w-w-why wouldd you say that Ed-d-die?” Bill's stutter comes out clearly, making him flustered and proving his hidden secret. Instead of coming clean he reaches for his third shot. Swallowing it cleanly only slightly wincing he takes a look around the dark room again as if someone will appear and save him any second from the questions Eddie is surely going to press him with. 

Eddie moves to the side when someone comes up behind to get something to drink but pulls Bill right along with him. Deciding to at least ask, without intention of harm he opens his mouth, “Come on, Bill. You don’t need to lie. I am your best friend for a reason. You can tell me these types of things,” he laughs ruefully at that, “actually technically you can tell me anything, that’s what comes with being best friends. A small dumb crush definitely falls in that category.”

Bill winces at that and a sad glint fills his eyes along with disappointment but before he can answer him someone calls his name out. He turns along with Eddie to meet a guy smiling and walking towards them, “What’s up, Big Bill? What are you doing huddling next to the drinks? Don’t you know this is a party?” Eddie watches the man come closer and notices how Bill lit up with excitement as soon as he recognizes him. So this must be Ben. He would let out an appreciative whistle if the man weren’t so close and Bill wasn’t so infatuated with him. The man - Ben - was handsome as hell. His light colored hair was styled to look as if he hadn’t done anything with it but it wasn’t a lazy look, it looked rather sophisticated. The beard that adorned his face looked sharp and regal, complimented even by the small scar that lay on the corner of his top lip. God damn, a scar has never looked so right. His build was leaning towards gruffer and broader. His arms seemed to bulge even from Eddie’s vantage point. It was all on top of legs fit into jeans that seemed to only highlight the fact that his arms weren’t the only thing taken care of. Though the man would look intimidating with a face and a body like that but his eyes were kind and his tone was playful. 

He takes a second to catch on to the nickname and is soon distracted by that rather than the man standing across from him, “Big Bill?” he whispers quietly turning to face Bill.

Before he can say anything about the nickname he receives a hearty laugh from Ben. Facing him again he waits for his answer, “Ah, you haven’t met Richie yet then. He gives everyone a nickname. Or at least everyone he likes. I’m Ben or Haystack,” He says extending a hand to shake. 

Though Eddie finds it strange to shake hands as if in a business setting instead of a raging party he shakes his hand, “Eddie or Eddie.”

Though it wasn’t a joke, Ben still lets out a smile at his response. His brown eyes twinkle before turning to Bill. He goes to touch him before seeming to think better of it and turns to Eddie again, “You wouldn’t mind if I took Bill from you would you? At least for just a little bit.”

Raising his eyebrows he shakes his head, “No, no, not at all. You guys should go dance.”

Bill clears his throat before responding, though Eddie sees right through it. Almost as an afterthought it comes to him that Bill usually clears his throat when he plans on what to say without having to worry about his stuttering. Guess Ben makes him nervous, “You sure Eddie? I can stay if you want,” but from the way he was looking at the other man he doubted that it was something he wanted to do.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll go find something to do. Maybe even find the host to tell him how shit his beer is,” he cracks a smile at that, urging his friend to leave him in the kitchen and dance with the handsome devil that clearly seemed interested in him too.

“Alright, just give me a second,” he tips his head back taking the shot in his hand before turning and taking another one. He shakes his shoulder at it and turns to face the other two, “Alright, let’s go dance.”

Eddie almost expects a high pitched giggle from his friend for a second by the way he grins so widely. He makes no reaction outwards but inwardly he’s utterly confused. Bill wouldn’t be acting this way if it was just a small crush. He wonders when Bill met Ben once again before he notices that his friend has turned his head looking at him briefly making Eddie smile and pumping a fist in the air before he turns around once again saying something in Ben's ear that makes the bigger man face him smiling widely. He lets out a quiet sigh, confused as to when Ben had made an appearance in Bill's life enough that he would look like - funnily enough - he was given his favorite toy. 

Before he figures out what he wants to do while he waits for Bill to come back - if he even comes back - his eye catches on someone walking up to the counter looking more than enough wasted that he feared that the second they got their hands on another drink they would puke all over Eddie’s shoes. Deciding not to even chance the thought of it or at best try to hold a conversation with them he walks towards the pool table. Sidling up to a corner of the pool table he takes into account the people surrounding it. Most seem pretty similar to each other making commentary on the play going on in front of them. Yet, he focuses on one of the players, while most people around the table - hell even the other player - are more drunk than not, he seems perfectly sober. 

His moves are crisper than the other guy who is moving around slowly. He watches as the small bun on the man's head bounces around a little as he jumps up and down from seeming excited on his clear victory. His actions lead to a couple curls coming out and framing his face. Eddie looks at him closer and notices that the man has a shocking color of blue eyes that pair nicely with his sharp cheekbones and jaw. Strangely he remembers Ben and thinks how complete opposites these two are. While this stranger is just as attractive as Ben he falls on the opposite spectrum. Pool table guy has such a pale color of skin he kinda looks like a ghost in the soft lighting hanging above the table. The light casts shadows on his face making him seem sharp and cold, while his electric blue eyes set off a vibe of mysteriousness making him that much more intriguing to Eddie. 

As he finishes off his beer he watches as the handsome stranger takes the final shot landing him the victory that was obvious as soon as Eddie walked over to the table. He watches in something close to amusement as he celebrates around the table before bringing the other player closer and clapping him on the back. The only response he gets from the drunk player is a couple grunts in disdain with the occasional mutter that the game was unfair and he demanded a rematch. Handsome stranger only chuckled in response before letting him go. And suddenly driven by who knows what force Eddie spoke up, “I’ll do the rematch for him, considering it wasn’t a fair match between a drunk man and a sober one.”

Both men turn to look at him but he focuses on the blue eyes of the handsome man. They seem to stare at each other for eternity before the other man breaks the silence by breaking into a smirk, “It wasn’t my idea to play the match. It might actually be an unfair match to me considering I had to drag it out way more due to consideration of this poor drunk man, isn’t that right, Zach?”

The drunk fool- Zach, didn’t let out a reply instead opting to slump further into the chair he had let himself fall into. It seemed to Eddie that he was getting ready to fall asleep in the chair. The host surely must care about the random people falling asleep in his property. He turned his attention back to the other man before cocking an eyebrow. With a small jerk he silently questioned if he would take him up on his offer. Said stranger only seems to smirk even more before heading to one side of the table.

As Eddie grabs his pool stick the stranger talks to him again, “So, cutie what’s the name to the face?”

“Don’t call me that and it's Eddie. And you would be?”

“Richie Tozier at your service. Seriously though, anything you want,” he finishes with a wink. A fucking wink, how cheesy could this guy get? God could only do so much for someone Eddie supposed, good looks, bad personality. 

Eddie scoffed instead of deeming him a response. Setting the balls into place he felt as Richie watched him. Looking up at him he met his gaze allowing only the smallest bit of discomfort set into him before he spoke again, “So, do you not drink?”

If Eddie hadn’t been watching his reaction closely he wouldn’t have noticed how Richie’s smirk faltered for a second before righting itself quickly. Only faint curiosity crossed his mind soon fading away because even though he was intrigued in Richie he didn’t want to actually get involved in anything with him where he would care about him in any way. Richie seemed to ponder the question for a second before answering, “I do drink, just didn’t feel like drinking yet, plus weed is sufficient enough to last until I decide I want a drink,” he shrugs.

Only raising his eyebrows slightly he gestures for Richie to begin the game. He watches as the other walks around the table before setting the white ball down. Just as he’s about to lean down to perfect his shot he looks at Eddie, “What about you Ed’s? I saw you put the beer bottle away but I doubt that you’re drunk.”

He observes as Richie lines up his shot before deciding to respond, “Again, my name is Eddie, if you already forgot. E-d-d-i-e. And secondly, I don’t really enjoy the idea of me passing out on an uncomfortable wooden chair next to a pool table surrounded by people I don’t know,” he pointedly looked at Zach quickly passed out on the chair already.

“Mmm, we’ll have to see about that, won’t we.”

Lining up his shot, Eddie hums low in his throat right before the balls fall into the pocket. The game continues as the silence covers them like a fog. The small clinking of balls against each other along with the loud music playing from the living room do nothing to hide the hot gaze of both men as they move around each other. Brief touches of hands, shoulders and hips go throughout the game with the occasional smirk thrown at each other. Eddie though usually not one to find interest in a random stranger that quickly can’t help but feel curious toward the curly haired man. As the game comes to a close, Eddie sinks the final shot winning but only allowing himself a small humpf of victory before looking at Richie. 

Even though they’ve basically been eye fucking each other the whole entire game Richie places his hand on the small of Eddie’s back steering him towards the drinks, “I think i need a drink,” Richie offers offhandedly. 

Eddie silently watches as Richie makes up a concoction of tequila with orange juice stirring it slightly before tipping it back. Slightly covered in sweat Richie’s neck shines faintly under the faint light filtering from the small light on top of the stovetop. Watching as his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, Eddie also swallows along with him suddenly hit with a dry throat. He reaches for the whiskey Bill had been drinking earlier before pouring up a shot. Taking it straight, he tries to clear his thoughts so he won’t end up in bed with the man that’s staring at him currently. That’s not how it works dumbass, you should definitely not be drinking alcohol. 

He swallows.

“Holy shit, Ed’s didn’t know you had it in you. I would’ve thought you would go for another weak beer,” Richie smirks.

“Shut up prick, you don’t know shit about me.”

“Maybe so, but by tonight I’m hoping I’ll know a couple more things about you,” and once again he winks but instead of making Eddie's eyes roll it makes his stomach turn in excitement. 

“Sure pal, whatever you say,” he deflects.

Richie only laughs in reply before pouring up four more shots and gestures to two of them looking at Eddie pointedly. Eddie lets out a scoff before stepping closer and taking one into his hand. He makes eye contact as he tips it back and if the eyes aren’t deceiving him Richie’s eyes darken a shade. He smirks before bringing the shot glass back to the countertop, “So?”

Richie lets out a dark chuckle before taking both shots one after another. The only reaction of the burn is a slight twitch in the corner of his eye before he stares at Eddie in amusement. Eddie takes the remaining shot before heading over to the group of bodies grinding against each other. He briefly glances behind his shoulder making sure the other man still has his attention directed towards him.

And that’s it. Thanks.

[sunfoxfic]

Uhhh so you are one of the very few people out here who is comfortable with the Senti Adrien theory and first of all, Thank you so much, your posts help me when I am feeling really down.

I just saw someone saying that the Senti-Adrien theorists were very defensive of the theory and that we are actually harassing those who don't like the theory and I really don't think I agree??

Like right when ephemeral aired, as far as what I experienced, compared to the number of posts saying he was a senti, there were Gazillion posts repeating the same reasons why he couldn't be one?? Like some of those who dislike the theory are quite paranoid at times lol

I mean I do understand why they may hate the theory, why it makes them uncomfortable and that is totally valid. Really really valid and it's perfectly okay. However the way they are behaving about it is not really...pleasant for one thing:(

Now I am really nervous about the theory becoming canon because in both the ways, the fandom response would be really unpleasant. For A. If the theory doesn't come true, things won't really be bad but the people who didn't like the theory may salt on those who were pro-sentiAdrien. Not to mention how some of the "extreme" theorists may react badly too. Then B. If it does become canon, Those who didn't like the theory would RIOT and cue the salt wave! I can't even imagine:( I really wish things weren't this tense here. I used to be someone who detested the theory previously. But now, I find really really intriguing and therapeutic for some reason. Fandom is a place for silly theories, and even if we don't like a theory, of course people are free am really nervous about the theory becoming canon because in both the ways, the fandom response would be really unpleasant.

Hugs, anon. I'm here with you.

Whether there's people harassing anti-sentiAdrien folks over the theory is honestly not something I know about, but I would not be surprised if some people were being harassed. More likely, I think there's a lot of heated discourse, some of which is uncivil, and that's getting labelled as harassment -- which it isn't. What I say about that to people on both sides of the discourse: Learn to vaguepost. You will get almost nothing out of directly responding to someone who disagrees with you, especially if you can't keep it civil. Tag properly, block tags you don't want to see, and block people you don't want to see.

(I use tags #sentimonster adrien agreste, #sentimonster adrien theory, #adrien agreste is a sentimonster, and #sentimonster discourse, though I only picked that last one up when I started @yourfavisasentimonster. I've also seen #sentimonster adrien and #sentiadrien, so be wary of those.)

But I'd like to point out that simply being against the theory does not make you a bad person. I follow blogs who have voiced disdain for the theory, and that's fine! But you're right, fandom is for silly theories, so regardless of whether the theory actually has a leg to stand on, it shouldn't be treated as public enemy no. 1. And that's the issue -- when a blog starts saying that Adrien isn't a sentimonster and anyone who believes that theory is a bad person and/or lacks critical reading skills, there's the issue.

I don't necessarily believe the sentiAdrien theory have. More and more I'm leaning toward it, but I still think there's a high chance that Félix is the sentimonster, and in a lot of ways I think that would be more interesting. What I've been vocal about is people's right to theorize without being called abuse apologists and or unintelligent.

I think that whatever happens, there's going to be fandom outcry. If he's confirmed a sentimonster, some people are going to denounce canon and call it a terrible decision and try to ruin the fun for everyone else. There will be people high and mighty about it too -- the earliest sentimonster Adrien theories come from when the episode Ladybug was released, and however poorly people react to it now, at least the theory is given legitimacy that it was not given then.

At the same time, if all of the evidence in favor of the theory somehow ends up going nowhere, people who were/are against the theory are going to be really high and mighty about it. At least if it's confirmed as true, people against the theory will have the knowledge that the theorists aren't worse than canon, but if it's not true, then the take that the theory is abuse apologism will get worse.

As for why the theory is therapeutic... for me, I love fantasy as a genre, and I've always felt better after seeing my trauma integrated into the worldbuilding of stories. I like seeing characters go through similar emotions as I do but for fantastical reasons -- it makes me feel assured that my trauma isn't to be ignored or overlooked, that it is just as important as any of the good things about me and my past. I think for many people that's how the sentiAdrien theory is -- if he's a sentimonster, the abuse he went through is just as integrated into the story as his superhero status. Some people would prefer the abuse he went through to be non-magical in nature because seeing his autonomy being stripped away in such certain terms is uncomfortable and evocative of not-so-good emotions, but that's not a universal truth for everyone who relates to Adrien and what he's been through.

I'm getting weary of the discourse too, anon. I think I'm gonna back off from doing anything that's likely to cause a fight -- I'll keep making content about it, of course, but I'm gonna block some tags (and maybe some people) and stop interacting with the theory in ways that necessitate I tag my posts with #ml fandom salt.

And for people on all sides of the debate: This is a theory. This is a cartoon. Please take care of yourself and don't let it impact you more than you need. If you have to stop watching Miraculous or interacting with the theory, that's fine, and it wasn't a waste of time to be here. Don't give into the sunk cost fallacy when it's coming in direct opposition to your headspace. Take care of yourself, please.

[schrijverr]

I Have a Heart Condition, You Dick

Tony lets it slip to Steve that he has a heart condition.

Steve wants to make sure Tony is okay and not needlessly hurting, but Tony thinks Steve is babying him and thinks him incapable of taking care of himself. They talk it out.

On AO3.

Ships: none, could be interpreted as pre-slash Steve/Tony

Warnings: mentions of medical condition

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It started when Clint dropped out of a vent behind the obviously tired genius, who was waiting for a desperately needed cup of coffee, and said: “Boo.”

Tony jumped in the air as he startled violently and clutched his chest as he exclaimed: “Jesus fucking Christ, Birdbrain, you can’t do that! I have a heart condition, you dick!”

Steve had been enjoying his breakfast when the spectacle occurred and looked up in alarm as he asked: “You have a heart condition?”

“I have a heart condition? I have- are you fucking serious, Steve?” Tony ranted, “What do you think this is, a fancy night light?” he tapped his reactor harshly, then saw the faces of Steve and Clint, with a disbelieving voice he said: “Oh my God, you two didn’t know I have a heart condition.”

“That’s important information, you idiot. I could have killed you,” Clint sounded distressed.

“Blah, blah, it was mostly a hyperbole,” Tony waved his concerns away, “I thought it was in my file, granted I did delete a lot about the arc reactor, so maybe it was unclear. Hmm, that would explain why Agent threatened to tase me.”

“Tony, a heart condition is nothing to joke about,” Steve said, looking at Tony intently in the hope his message got across.

In turn Tony only rolled his eyes: “I am aware, Capsicle. Might surprise you, but I’ve actually been living with it for a few years, I know my limits and I’m not going to be a liability out there. Trust me, geez.”

“That’s not what I-”

“Spare me the lecture, Spangles,” Tony got his coffee and left the two there.

Steve looked at Clint and said: “I swear that’s not what I meant with that.”

“I could have killed him,” Clint merely repeated, still distressed.

“No, you couldn- well, maybe, but I don’t think so. Tony will need more than a small scare to take him out,” Steve assured him.

“How would you know?” it was obvious that Clint didn’t believe him.

“Because I used to have one, Clint,” Steve smirked, “A lot of people seemed to forget I was a little squirt from Brooklyn with a list of medical issues longer than army paperwork.”

Clint looked him up and down with distrust, before seeming to take his word for it. Though he did vow to be more careful around his favorite snark buddy and it seemed Steve had decided to do the same, because after that things were different.

Not bad different.

Not even obviously different.

Just different.

It was mostly Steve, though. Clint only started to announce himself when he entered a room Tony was already in and made sure not to scare the man too much.

Steve on the other hand researched foods that were good and bad for heart conditions and made sure to only cook with the good kind for Tony. He also remembered the unpleasant sensations of when his heart was beating too fast from before the serum and made sure Tony didn’t have to do anything too straining and checked in on him during battle. On top of that he started to nag Tony, that was not what Steve called it of course, Steve called it making sure he didn’t overwork himself and died of stress, but same difference.

And Tony noticed.

Of course, he did he wasn’t stupid. He was the opposite of stupid, actually. Though it did take him a while to add it all up.

It had started with a sandwich, which doesn’t sound that dramatic and it wasn’t either, honestly. Just one day, Steve knocked on his shop’s window and held up a plate. He’d done this before of course, but this particular sandwhich would be the start of getting Tony to eat regularly.

Tony had been down there for nearly three full days, living off granola bars, smoothies and coffee, so he merely appreciated the food as he waved Steve in. Snatching the sandwich up, he asked: “What brings you here, Cap?”

“Nothing much,” Steve shrugged, “Just hadn’t seen you in a while, figured you’d be neglecting to eat down here.”

“All I’m hearing is blah blah blah, Stevie,” Tony grinned, there was usually a lecture attached to food offerings, which he allowed because food, “You’ll be talking differently when you see these fire resistant suits I’m making for the squishy members.”

“Fire resistant?” Steve questioned.

Tony lit up: “See, I knew you’d see my wa-”

“Is that safe?” Steve ruined it.

“Is it- He asks if it’s safe. I’m making it, of course it’ll be safe,” Tony said indignantly.

“No, that’s not- I trust your engineering skills, just not your self preservation,” Steve clarified, “How are testing it? Is that safe?”

Tony blinked a few times, not expecting that response. No one had really cared how safe he was before, if he got the results.Then he laughed and deflected: “Steve, Stevie, Capsicle, Star Spangled Man With A Plan, I’m never safe,” Steve looked like he was about to interrupt, “But – and the buts make it important – but I am also never stupid.”

He was well aware that that was a lie and JARVIS had many tapes to prove it, but Steve didn’t have to know that.

“Are you sure?” Steve checked.

“Yeah, Cap, sure,” Tony assured him, “I’ll be as safe as humanly possible.”

“That sounds fake,” Steve eyed him suspiciously.

“And that is your cue to go, thanks for the food,” Tony shoved him out the workshop with a small wave, leaving him stunned for a second, “JARVIS, lock down, don’t let Mr. Health & Safety back in here.”

“Sir, do you think that is wise?”

“I do think that, I also think that a community college would be happy to have you, buddy,” Tony snarked.

“Tony. Tony,” Steve tapped on the glass when Tony didn’t respond, “Stark.”

“What?”

“Don’t do anything too stupid. And rest.”

“Whatever, Mom,” Tony rolled his eyes and got back to work.

It was little things like that which started to add up. They had already been happening, since Steve was unable to let anyone ruin their health in peace, but now their frequency increased.

Then it happened more overtly during battle, Tony had lost his suit and was running down a street, hoping to not get eaten by mutant rats, which was just iew.

His breathing was coming kind of ragged and it was uncomfortable, but he was managing. He still had a gauntlet and determination since he wasn’t going to admit to anyone that he’d been practically useless by some rats.

“Iron Man, status update,” Steve’s voice crackled over the coms.

“Down- Town- Chased-” Tony heaved, firing his repulsors, “No- Suit- Got- Three- Here- Handling- handling it.”

“Thor, get Iron Man out of there,” Steve ordered.

Tony wanted to protest, but he was too out of breath to do so and a small guilty part of him was glad the God of Thunder was coming his way, because- fuck.

He was nearly being chowed down by a rat when Thor appeared and came down with a mighty swing that decapitated the rat. Tony weakly raised a hand and wheezed: “Thanks, Thunderstruck.”

“No problem, Shieldbrother Stark. Are you alright?” Thor bellowed, dealing with the leftover rats in the alleyway.

“I- I’m fine,” Tony said.

Steve injected over the coms: “Get him to a high place out of the fight, Thor. Then head to the Hulk.”

“Aye, Captain,” Thor said, cutting off Tony’s protest of how he was still able to fight as he dropped Tony on top of a building before flying off.

“I know you’re still able to fight, Tony,” Steve sounded tired, “It’s just not a smart idea and we have it handled. Get started on prep for clean up in you want to help.”

Tony grumbled something, but didn’t comment further. He wasn’t in the mood to pick a fight right now and overall fighting didn’t sound very appealing. Steve wouldn’t lie about needing him and he’d done quite enough today.

It was only after that that Tony began to suspect something was up.

He first realized the visits to make sure he rested and ate had become more common. Then, when Steve asked about his schedule, he realized that had become a thing lately, before he noticed the food and added it to the most recent check up in battle.

Steve was babying him.

Once he had made that conclusion, he started to rewind to when it started to see what on earth he had said to make the other man think he was incapable of handling himself. It hit him when he went to grab some coffee and saw that Steve had left a bag decaf for him last time he was here.

“That motherfucker,” Tony said.

“Sir, I do not th-”

“Mute,” Tony didn’t want to listen to that right now. He had confessed a small weakness once and immediately Steve had jumped on it to treat him like less, he didn’t want to hear excuses for him, least of all from his own AI, his JARVIS.

He let the anger built up, he usually wasn’t one for not poking someone’s buttons when they had pissed him off, but he was smart enough to realize that a big fight between them would be bad for the team.

Because no matter how he spun it, they both kept everyone alive through communicating. Tony could see what needed to be done and Steve could strategatize a plan on the fly that completed that goal.

They needed to work together.

Naturally when Tony was pissed at someone, he didn’t want to communicatewith them, which was a minor detail he had forgotten in his grand master plan of ignoring.

His anger only grew each time he blocked Steve entrance from his workshop, denied his requests for his schedule or sparring or when the man wanted to know how he was doing. JARVIS wasn’t any help either and after too many times of trying to talk to him, Tony had ordered him to stop talking about Steve or his health for that matter.

When after two weeks of ignoring everyone – including his own body – the call to assemble went off, Tony suited up, despite the tension. He wasn’t letting New York be in peril when he could stop it, just because Steve thought he was too weak.

Steve would eat his words, or his motherhenning in this case. Tony wasn’t fragile, nor did he need special treatment.

The battle with the squid-robot-type creatures could be described as a proper disaster.

If Steve said go right, Tony would go left. If asked for imput, Tony would just do what he calculated to be right without saying a thing. If someone talked, Tony blasted music.

Sure, his moves worked and if anyone needed air support, he would show up out of nowhere, but he was being unnecessarily reckless.

He didn’t stay when the battle was over, just shooting off to the Tower on his own, giving everyone the cold shoulder. They walked into the Quinjet as Clint frowned: “What did we even do? Did any of you piss him off?”

“No, he just started shutting me out two weeks ago,” Steve said miserably, “From one day to the next I wasn’t allowed into the ‘shop anymore, I have no clue what I did. I didn’t even think it was this bad until now.”

“Well, you better go talk it out, Captain,” Natasha said, “Because that was a disaster.”

Steve sighed: “I will, but let’s just direct clean up for now. Everyone, you did good, let’s get some rest, alright?”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Clint saluted lazily from where he had collapsed onto the Quinjet pilot seat in exhaustion.

Tony naturally avoided all attempts at communication again afterwards, until it came to a head. Steve had ben asking permission to enter the workshop for the past few days, never yielding any success, so he was trying a different method: “Tony, please come out of the ‘shop, I made food. Just come and eat something.”

“JARVIS why am I hearing Captain America in my workshop?” Tony asked icely.

“You stated – and I quote – “I do not wish to see Captain America or anyone unless the world is ending and they’re all on the brink of death” end quote. There was nothing about hearing, Sir,” he replied.

“J, remind me to donate you to the local High School,” Tony huffed.

“Noted, Sir,” JARVIS said, “Though I would advise to take up Steve’s offer on food. You have been here for 71 hours Sir and have not eaten in 21.”

“Blah, blah, I’m sure I have an energy bar somewhere around here,” Tony waved him away, “If I eat that, will you leave me alone?”

“I would, Sir, however, your emergency supplies have run out,” the AI informed him.

Tony cursed, he was kind of hungry now that JARVIS had mentioned it, but he didn’t want to admit weakness and eat Steve’s food.

In the end hunger won out and Tony mopily made his way to the kitchen.

It seemed like the whole team was there, each as surprised as him that he actually heeded their call for food. Tony would never admit it, but the loneliness had been setting in and getting yelled at and belittled sounded better than being by himself. He’d realized that the moment he’d heard Steve’s voice.

Steve smiled and handed him the plate: “Tony!” the smile faded when he took in the engineer’s state, but Tony ignored that in favor of taking the plate.

It was fish with veggies and nuts.

Health food.

Helps-gainst-a-heart-condition-food.

Fuck this.

Tony snapped, he was tired and hungry and had been beating himself up for weeks for allowing himself to show weakness, knowing what could happen. And now here it was, being shoved in his face yet again.

He just didn’t have the energy for this.

“What the fuck is this supposed to mean?” he demanded angrily.

Steve frowned: “I don’t understand.”

“Oh sure, play dumb, Captain Perfect,” Tony spat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tony,” Steve sounded frustrated, “Talk to me about what’s bothering you.”

“Like you’re not perfectly aware of that.”

The rest of the team was watching the argument like a tennis match, no one daring to interrupt the two, but all wanting to know how it ended.

“I am not aware of it, okay,” Steve threw his hands up, “I try to help and all I get is this attitude back. What am I doing wrong?”

“The healthy food, the constant checking up during missions, the benching me during straining stuff, the forcing me to sleep, you knew my goddamn schedule at some point, Rogers,” Tony told him, “I don’t need to be babied, I don’t need your coddling. I tell you one thing – just one – and you jump on it immediately. So, shove off, Mr. Pinnacle of Human Perfection or whatever. Just for once believe that I know what I’m fucking doing.”

Steve connected the dots to Clint scaring Tony all those months ago and sighed. Of course Tony would think that Steve was smothering him unnecessarily.

“Tony, I’m not babying you,” he started, “That was at least not my intention, I just wanted to keep you alive for as long as possible.”

“Because you think I can’t do that on my own,” Tony filled in the nonexistant blank, “Newsflash, I’ve been keeping myself for a long time already.”

“I don’t think you’re incapable, goddammit Tony, just fucking listen to me,” Steve yelled, everyone shocked by the cursing, “I care about you, you’re my teammate, the closest thing to family I have left. I just don’t want you to suffer needlessly, okay. I know how much it sucks and if I can help in the little ways, you can bet your ass that I will.”

Tony opened and closed his mouth while thinking of an answer. People caring for him was a bit new and he didn’t know how to accept that at face value, so instead he grumbled: “How would you even know it sucks.”

Steve smiled, he knew Tony wasn’t trying to be difficult, then answered: “I know for everyone else it is a long while ago, but from my perspective I was running around with countless health problems, including a heart condition, just a few years ago.”

“Oh…” Tony said, remembering the file he’d read on Steve, how stupid to let that slip his mind, “I- uhm, well, I guess that can be a reason.”

“Drop it in the hat of forgive and forget?” Steve held out his hand for Tony to shake.

He shook the hand and shrugged: “Might as well,” he was just glad he hadn’t fucked this up, that they didn’t think him weak.

“I for one am glad mom and dad made up,” Clint commented, finally breaking the silence the rest of the team had held while Steve and Tony made up.

“For that comment, you’re grounded, young man,” Tony said with an eyeroll.

“Resent that statement,” Clint shot back, “Especially coming from someone who’s swaying with hunger and exhaustion. Just eat your damn food and take a nap, Stark, then you can talk about grounding.”

Tony just flipped him the bird as he attacked his food with vigor while the rest started up all sorts of conversations around him.

Later he would get lectured anyway about not taking care of himself, but afterwards he would get pulled into a hug and maybe the next time Steve bothered him with food or sleeping a bit. Well, maybe it wouldn’t be that much of a bother anyway.

~~~~~~~~

DISCLAIMER:

God, I am not a medical person, please for the love of God and everything that is Holy to you: DO NOT and I repeat, DO NOT take anything in this fic as a fact without checking.

[himboskywalker]

Tag, cause you’re kinda the big sister in the obikin fandom, I felt it’d be appropriate to come to you. I got on tumblr just now and was shocked to find a dinluke blog I follow, posted a “i wish every obikin shipper a great fuck off” meme with the tags being very aggressive towards obikin shippers like “block me bitch” and the like. I proceeded to go to their blog to do just that after unfollowing them. And saw that their most recent reblog (from shocker: another aggressive anti obikin blog replying to a polite anon asking why they hate obikin) and their tags on the reblog said they want to study us on why we ship a 9 year old with a 25 year old? Like already your view on why we ship them is skewed so obviously you won’t get it. Anyway, I unfollowed and blocked them. But I just felt disappointed with their hostility and wanted to talk to you about it :(

It is extremely frustrating and I’ve been through the exact same thing and while we know they’re full of shit it’s still such a frustration. Not just blatant ship hate,but also purposeful misinformation over dynamics are things I don’t have any patience for. You can absolutely not ship things and not wish to see that content without being an anti and there’s just no reason for some high and mighty moral pedistal for liking only uwu “pure” ships and then shitting all over ones you believe make a person morally abhorant for liking just because you have no critical thinking skills nor can tell fact from fiction. I have also unfollowed several dinluke blogs for the same problem,and several well known “big” Star Wars blogs on here for the same reason.

A person has absolutely every right to not like Obikin for any number of reasons,but the moment a person gets all morally righteous over it is the moment I block without hesitation. It’s the exact same brand os moral right wing policing just by teenagers who love to brandish the word pedophilia and have no actual conception of what that is. So sure anyone can hate obikin but the moment someone goes on a foaming mouthed rampage about obikin shippers being pedophiles because we “ship a 9 year old with a 25 year old” is purposefully being a fucking moron and combative with zero brain cells processing behind it. It takes zero critical thinking to make the connection that it’s an adult ship and nobody is fucking shipping child Anakin with people. It’s the same problem in other fandoms when characters have an age jump in the canon and people lose their minds over shippers...as if people and characters don’t grow up and people can’t ship the character only as an adult????

But chin up dear it’s just a special brand of feral stupidity that there’s no stopping and will never go away. People just love a moral high ground and love to use zero critical thinking skills. You just block and move on with your life because those aren’t the kinds of individuals you can have an open dialogue with. They’ve already made up their minds and their extreme hatred to brandish so the best weapon to deal with that sort is blatant indifference to them. I don’t care about antis,their opinions mean absolutely nothing to me and I literally couldn’t care less. Once you adopt that opinion they’re a lot easier to deal with and they make fun to roll your eyes at. Don’t let random people on the internet make you feel like a bad person for liking a ship. What is shitty is when you threaten in real life people over wanting fictional characters to kiss and for whatever reason that bit is the part they think they have justification for. Unfortunately this is a part of fandom we will always have to deal with,and I think it’s become more pervasive with the modern internet movement of moral policing culture and “wokeness.” I see it on TikTok all the time,young people just blindly finding everything problematic without stopping for two seconds to actually find nuance or depth to topics that they would prefer to just label as black or white because saying I’m a good person for saying you’re a bad person makes you feel good and is a lot easier than seeking understanding and aiming to learn.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Can you do 60 for indruck, NSFW? Thank you so much! Love your work!

Here it is! I set it in the same world as this sternclay fill. Credit to @bellafarallones for playing in this space on discord. Apollo is from my Super hero AU

“All I’m sayin is it seems mighty unfair to me that one fella gets a handler-assistant type deal and the rest of us don’t.” Duck crosses his arms as Ned fiddles with the pen on his desk.

“You’re not wrong, dear boy, but Apollo was in high demand from the higher ups-”

“Because he’s a shallow dipshit with a mean streak who’ll be good for ratings?”

“Precisely. He demanded in his contract that we allow his twin to continue his work as his photographer and assistant. He has over a million followers on Instagram, so those photos will be a boost to the show. Just try to get along for the camera’s?”

“His brother ain’t even on camera.” Duck mutters.

“I meant with Apollo.”

Duck shrugs, defeated, “sure thing, Ned.”

As he walks back to the main house, he mulls over the fact that the twin (Indrid, he thinks that’s the guys name) bugs him more than Apollo does. Apollo is vain, mean, and selfish, but at least that gets him things, even makes sense for the kind of show they’re on. Indrid gains nothing by helping him out here. Except protection from the bully, which Duck finds to be the worst kind of cowardice. Hopefully Vincent, this season’s bachelor, will see through the “influencer” and send him packing ASAP.

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

Four weeks in, and this is exactly what Duck was worried about. Not only is Indrid hovering around his brother like a nervous moth (excet when cameras are near, at which point he ducks out of frame), he’s doing fucking nothing to reign him in.

A few frontrunners are starting to emerge, and with that claws are coming out. Barclay, a chef and all around nice guy, is the target of choice. Nico and Josh both took bites out of him this morning. But Apollo sunk his teeth in like a dog on a fox, calling him, among other things, a pathetic, six-foot puppy dog who no man would ever want. The cook left noticeably teary eyed. Duck was about to block the cameras from following when Joseph beat him to it. Which is weird, because he thought Joe couldn’t stand Barclay. Apollo flounces off, but Duck corners Indrid where he’s been stoically watching his brother be a raging asshole.

“What the fuck man?”

‘Wrong twin.” Indrid says flatly, indicating his silver hair, tied back in a half-bun. His dark roots are showing and his eyebrows are black, unlike Apollo’s immaculate blonde dye job and bleached brows.

“Nope, right one. You’re his handler, cant’ you fuckin intervene when he’s doin’ shit like that? Or are you just here to let him hurt whoever he feels like?”

Indrid fixes him with a bitter smile, “If there were a way to make my brother be kind or, indeed, see others as people, don’t you think I’d have found it and used it everyday since?”

“I-”

“You people have no idea how much I’m already doing. I kept him from going after you yesterday by reminding him he looks ugly when he yells on camera. And if nothing else console yourself with the fact you all have only to deal with him for a few months. Some of us have endured twenty-eight years of it.”

With that, he turns and stalks from the room. As he leaves, Duck can’t shake the thought that his black denim jacket and worn jeans fit him better than Apollo’s designer ones ever could.

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

Indrid understands why there’s so much alcohol on set, but he can’t partake (too bitter) and it makes Apollo even harder to handle than usual. Which is why Indrid is out on the grounds at ten p.m, intending to hide from his brother until dawn.

At six weeks in, fan favorites are getting more established and Indrid, needing to predict Apollo’s mood in order to do his job, is keeping a close eye on them. His twin is well-liked for being snarky and hot, though he suspects the large number of contestants means there have been limited chances for his unpleasant side to be showcased. Joseph is another, because of course he is, movie-star handsome with an interesting past. Barclay is beloved for the very things that the other contestants torment him for. And Duck? Duck is quickly becoming the one people think Vincent will choose.

Indrid thinks they’re right. He’s charming in an understated way, funny, and while Apollo needles him for his “dad bod,” Indrid and Vincent have both noticed the muscles in his arms. Who gives a damn about flat abs? Indrid would much rather have something soft to rest his head on while those green eyes look lovingly down at him. His crush on Duck is useless, persistent, and must be hidden from Apollo at all costs.

His foot catches something solid and he tumbles over the obstacle to land ass-first on the lawn.

“Ow.” He glares at the object. The object turns out to be Duck Newton, who's obviously drunk as he sits up.

“Sorry man, thought no one’d come out here. Oh it’s you, it's, uh, fuck, fuck c'mon” he snaps his fingers as he searches his thoughts, “It's cute Apollo!”

“Indrid.” Surely Duck didn’t mean to use that adjective. Right?

“No, I’m Duck?”

He snickers, “No, I meant I’m Indrid.”

“Ohhh, right. You're Indrid. I'm Duck. That's the big dipper” He points at the sky. Indrid follows the line and grins, delighted.”

“It is!”

“Uhhuh. C'mere, can show you more.” Duck pats the spot beside him and lays back. Indrid scoots closer and reclines as well, making appreciative sounds each time Duck shows him a constellation.

As they’re studying the sky, the other man whispers, “Can I tell you a secret? I, I think Joe’n Barclay are into each other now."

“The way they look at each other is not exactly subtle.”

‘“Heh, yeah.” he links his hands across his belly, “I think they're in love. You ever been in love?”

“No.” He sighs, not wanting to dwell on that pile of baggage, “You?”

“Nope. And, uh, don’t, don’t tell anyone but I don't think I am with Vincent. Maybe I could be? Does that make me a bad person? He's nice, think he likes me a lot but, I, I dunno.”

“Not being in love with someone doesn’t make you a bad person. No more than loving someone does.”

Indrid is hard to surprise; years of getting out ahead of his brother and father taught him how to see things coming. But nothing could prepare him for Duck rolling to hide his face against Indrid’s chest. Not knowing what else to do, he pats his back, notices a woodsy scent tingling his nose.

“You smell good.” He winces; that was too creepy, now Duck will pull the comforting bulk of his body away.

“Thanks. I bought a bunch of cologne when I realized I was actually going to be a contestant. News clothes too. Thought it would give me an edge but...I dunno, can't compete with a guy like your brother.”

“Join the club.” Indrid reaches up to toy with a lock of Duck’s black hair, expecting Duck to bat him away. Instead, he sighs and turns his head to give Indrid better access.

“You could compete with ‘im. You're cuter. Nicer too.”

“Oh. Ah. Thank you.”

Duck’s fidgets with the mothman pin on Indrid’s jacket, “You wanna cuddle?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“No one cuddles with me. And we ain’t allowed to cuddle Vincent yet.” He looks up, lips pouting just enough to be charming.

Indrid let’s a purr enter his voice, “That’s a shame. I’m happy to cuddle.”

Duck rolls more of his body onto Indrid, resolutely nestling his head under his chin and tangling their legs together. His hands stay on Indrid’s chest and shoulders, though he’s now drunkenly petting Indrid’s collarbone, making him shiver. He expends four months worth of daring in a second, wrapping his arms around the curves of Duck’s torso. When Duck’s fingers brush skin instead of shirt, Indrid whimpers, then bites his lip and prays it went unnoticed.

“You don’t get cuddled much either, do you?” Duck murmurs thoughtfully.

“No.”

“Damn shame, you’re real good at it. Can cuddle me any time.”

Indrid “mmhmms” knowing the promise is like the stars; bright and comforting in the darkness, but ultimately beyond his reach.

Three day later, he drops his guard; Apollo’s been on his good behavior since Vincent’s been spending more time with him. You’d think Indrid would learn by now that all his venom has to go somewhere.

He’s huddled down in the rec room trying not to cry; it’s pathetic enough that he let such childish insults get to him, but to cry over them would confirm everything his brother said.

“Indrid? You, uh, you okay?” Duck’s reflection in the darkened T.V approaches his own.

“I'm fine.” It’s the same inflection he’s used hundreds of times, but Duck sits down on the couch all the same.

“Do you, uh, need a hug?’

“No.” He replies a hair too quickly.

“Do you want one?”

“......Badly.”

Duck opens his arms and Indrid shifts on the cushions, doing his best to curl his long limbs so they’ll fit in his embrace. The shorter man notices, concern flashing on his face.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Okay. You, uh, wanna hear the most exciting news of the day?” He waits for Indrid to nod, “there was a cougar sightin’ in the foothills near here!”

“That is both very exciting and alarming.”

“Doubt it’d go after folks, they try to steer clear of people. We don’t have ‘em back home, but you learn what to do when you’re also learnin how to deal with bears.”

“How does one deal with a bear? Other than buying them a drink.”

Duck snorts, relaxes further into the couch, “Depends on how soon you see ‘em…”

They emerge two hours later, and Indrid is so engrossed in their conversation about hiking incidents that he runs smack into a camera man. While he’s apologizing profusely, Duck guffaws, steadies him, and leads him off in search of somewhere to watch the sunset.

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

“Oooh, ooh, look, sea lions!” Indrid points to the distant wharf.

“Good eye. Man, those fuckers are big. Glad none of ‘em were in the water when we did that fuckin cliff dive.”

“I for one would pay good money to see my brother chased by a sea lion.”

Duck chuckles, pops the tab on his WhiteClaw. They’re having dinner on the beach, a gourmet spread meant to encourage them to show off their pallets. Indrid took Barclay’s recommendation and ordered the whole, grilled snapper, which he assumed he’d be eating alone; Vincent’s attention has been on Duck ever since he went swimming this morning. Duck seems to be enjoying it, but come dinner time he demurred (“gotta let some of the other fellas have a chance”) and brought his basket of fried oysters over to join Indrid on the sand.

“Speakin of your brother, kinda surprised he didn't make any digs at this whole, uh, situation.” Duck gestures to the torso Indrid is currently aching to lick droplets of saltwater from. To subdue the craving, he licks salt from his fingers before replying.

“I, ah, the last time he tried to, I reminded him of all the pictures I have of him eating. He hates to be seen eating. Most of the time.” He tilts his head towards his twin, who’s chowing down next to Vincent without a care for the cameras. Indrid sets his hand on the warm sand, “I’ve been trying to, well, reign him in as you suggested. Or at least make him think twice about his choices.”

(Indrid omits the part where he’s most likely to risk it if Duck is the one with the target on his back).

Duck sets his hand down beside Indrid’s, brushes sand from the side of it with a calloused thumb, “Mighty good of you. But, uh, think I mighta read things wrong that day. You gotta handle him how you think best. Just, uh, just promise me you won’t sacrifice your own well-bein’ for my sake, or anyone else’s. We’re all grown-ass men; we can handle it.”

“I promise.” He lies.

The other man leans back on his hands, green eyes drifting across the waves. Indrid would gladly sit in silence the rest of the night, it’s so easy to be comfortable in the lull when it’s Duck filling the space beside him.

Eventually, the ranger murmurs, “It’s so fuckin breathtaking. The ocean, I mean. Maybe if you live on a coast you get used to it but man, it is somethin;.”

“More so than the forest?”

Duck smiles, “It’s like apples and oranges. Monongahela got its own charms; you’d have a blast takin pictures and drawin there, believe me. If, uh, if Apollo and I both make it to the final four, uh, maybe we could take a few hours durin’ my hometown visit and I could show you my favorite spot.

Indrid imagines the two of them beneath the trees, walking hand in hand.

“I’d like that.”

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

“You know you’re just a distraction, right?”

Indrid doesn’t look at his brother, just flips the page in his book, “I doubt that. You’ve said, often, that I’m too off-putting to be interesting.”

“Not when there’s competition for someone superior; Duck knows he might not win. You’re his back-up if he doesn’t, and a way to kill time until the end. Once Vincent sends him home, which he most definitely will, he’ll keep you around until something better comes along.”

“Don’t act like you know him.” Indrid hisses, looking up just in time to see something scurrying behind the triumph on Apollo’s face: fear.

So, his brother has a new weakness. He’ll tuck that away for later; this is shaping up to be an unpleasant conversation, but not one requiring quite that degree of weapon.

“You should thank me. If I weren’t so captivating, Vincent would spend all his time with Duck. Then you’d be without any attention at all. Even Duck’s taste isn’t that abysmal.” He grins his several thousand dollar smile, “he and Vincent are probably laughing about it right now.”

Indrid stands, crosses the tiny room, “Shut up, Apollo.”

Then he slams the door. There’s a yelp, followed by “you hit my nose, you pathetic excuse for a man, ow, open this door this instant I’m not done with you!”

He flicks the lock and sits back on the bed. There’s a tin of sensory putty on his nightstand and he opens it, playing with it between his fingers. Duck brought it for him after a museum date with Vincent. The image of him not only thinking of Indrid when he saw something, but then buying it for him just to see him smile makes him want to grin and hide his face in a pillow like a teenager who just got asked to prom.

But maybe this date is going differently.

Indrid squeezes the putty, repeats the mantra he’s had since he was a child, “Apollo always lies. Apollo always lies.”

Eventually, he’s calm enough to work on some tattoo commissions, is coloring away when there’s a knock on the door. A secret knock Duck invented as a goof. Throwing open the door reveals the shorter man wearing a suit jacket and an exhausted expression. Indrid gestures to the bed, shuts and locks the door as Duck slumps on the mattress and sets his head in his hands.

“Whelp, that was a shit-show.”

“What happened?” Indrid sits cross-legged beside him.

“Vincent went in for a kiss and I, uh, I turned him down. I mean, he took it well because he’s a sweet guy but I, I feel like shit.”

“There’s no shame in not wanting to kiss just yet.”

“That ain’t the problem. I, I wanna kiss someone on this set, but it ain’t him. Indrid” he looks up, green eyes watery, “Indrid, I think I’m fallin in love with you.”

“Oh. I, are you sure-”

“The whole night, and I mean the whole fuckin night, I was thinkin about you. Thought how nice the trip to the botanical gardens would be with you there to point out color combos and get excited about butterflies. Wanted to hold your hand over dinner. Fuck, when they brought out the dessert menu all I could think was how fun it’d be to order one of each thing to surprise you so you’d do that thing you do with your hands when you’re real excited.” Duck turns, sets his hands on Indrid’s shoulders, “‘Drid, if you don’t want this, I’ll back off but-”

Indrid cuts him off with a kiss, let’s strong arms pull him down to the bed and presses as close to Duck as he can, as if any space between them might be a way for the universe to push them apart.

“Than fuck” Duck pants, cupping his face, “wait, fuck, what do we do now? I can’t string poor Vincent on.”

“We’ll get them to let you out of your contract. It can’t be that hard, right?”

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

“Absolutely not” Ned shakes his head, “dropping out of the show is out of the question.”

“But that ain’t fair to any of us. Can we at least tell Vincent the truth?”

“No, it needs to look as if he naturally decided not to choose you. If not, we could be accused of manipulating results; the last time that happened, the ratings tanked for that season and the next. And my predecessor was fired.”

Duck looks at Indrid, “Guess I’ll just...pull back? That way Vincent won’t have a reason to choose me and’ll let me go soon.”

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

“Droppin out is outta the question, huh?” Duck mutters to Indrid as they watch Barclay and Joseph walk off holding hands, the host eagerly asking them questions as they go.

“I suppose he didn’t drop so much as sprint.” Indrid glances at the rose in Duck’s hand, “congratulations on making the final...well, final three now.”

“Thanks? Guess Apollo’s pretty happy about it too.”

“Yes, but his ego needs no stroking.” Indrid smiles, “maybe this means you’ll get to show me the woods?”

“I hope so. Huh. What are they gonna do with the rest of us when it’s not our turn for the hometown visit?”

The answer turns out to be: drag everyone to each hometown. Because they no longer have Joe’s trip to do, Ned decided they needed more scenes of the contestants exploring where their competitors came from.

Kepler is first, and tonight is the night Duck’s been dreading. His romantic, home-town date that everyone expects to end with at least some kissing. He manages to make it through dinner, even enjoys showing Vincent the down-town he spent years roaming. But as they start down the river walk for a romantic stroll, his heart is trying to smash its way out of his ribs.

“It’s alright, you know.” Vincent stops, guiding Duck to face him, “the fact you want to be with Indrid.”

“I, uh, fuck, I, I don’t not know, uh, fuck-” he closes his eyes, “how’d you know?”

“I’m more observant than I get credit for.” Vincent brushes his cheek, “I’ve had a hunch for weeks now, but I kept you around because I liked having you here, even if I suspected it wasn’t going to end with us together. I’m very fond of you, Duck. You deserve someone who makes you happy. I promise I’ll send you home this next rose ceremony”

“Christ” Duck chuckles, “you’re a hell of a guy too, Vince. I hope whoever you pick treats you right. I, uh, can I, should we…?”

Vincent plants a chaste kiss on his cheek, then smiles, “go get him.”

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

“Any twos?”

“No. Go fish.”

Apollo grumbles as he takes another card. Given Duck and Vincent are on their date, neither he nor Indrid is having a good night. Before Indrid can make his ask, his twin says, “How do you get people to like you?”

“Why do you care? You’ve made it this far, so obviously Vincent likes you a great deal”

“I don’t just mean him. I, I mean, I want him to like me. To want me. But I suspect he’d like me better if other people did.”

Indrid idly taps his cards, “I suggest you stop acting like our father.”

“I’m nothing like him!” Apollo squawks.

“Oh, but you are. Everything he taught us you still hold as true; you’re just the newest version of men like him. Self-absorbed. Cruel. Shallow. I’m amazed you’ve gotten this far with Vincent, given that the age difference means you’d be caring for him in his old age.”

“I, I can care for him. I will!”

“Apollo, I wouldn’t trust you to care for a potted plant.” He sets his cards down.

“At least I’m not a-”

“Ambitionless deviant who has to ride his brother’s coattails to survive?”

“Wha--how-”

“Like I said; you’re just like him. Down to your insults.” Indrid stands, “I’m going to bed. I suggest you do the same.”

His brother remains speechless--a rare state for him--as he closes the door and heads for his room. He doubts Duck will do anything on the date (hell, the two of them have only been able to steal some kisses now and then), but the whole charade has him feeling low.

There are far more cameras in the rented house than there were a few hours ago. Which means the rest of the crew is back. Does that also mean…

“Hey, sugar. I was just lookin for you.”

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

Duck’s glad his door is open, because otherwise Indrid would have smashed it to pieces dragging them both through it. He’d only gotten out the barest explanation before the taller man was kissing his face and tugging at his clothes, purring “mine” over and over again.

“Yep, all yours.” He shuts the door as Indrid mouths at his neck, “which also means you’re all mine.” He yanks Indrid’s black sweater up and over his head, sends the matching t-shirt after it a moment later. Indrid whines, fumbling with Duck’s dress shirt, and he gets an idea.

“Uh uh, only good boys who show me why they deserve it get to feel me up.”

Indrid groans into his shoulder, fisting the fabric of his jacket “What constitutes good behavior in this instance?”

“One sec, don’t go nowhere.” He starts to step past him, pauses to grips his chin and pull him into another kiss, “and no peekin.”

As he digs through his bag for the strap on he brought just in case, he keeps an eye on Indrid to be sure he’s following the directions. The taller man’s fingers twitch, but his head stays still. God, Duck is going to memorize the shape of each of the tattoos decorating his skin with his mouth.

“You did real good.” He slips around Indrid once more, resting his back on the wall. Indrid notices the new bulge in his pants and thuds to his knees.

“May I?”

“You better.”

Indrid undoes the button of his fly. Then he looks at Duck over the rim of his glasses as he takes the zipper between his teeth and pulls it down. When the black silicone of the strap breaks free, Indrid cocks his head as if unsure of his options. Duck doesn’t really have a plan--he just wants to be with him, to make him feel good and show him just what weeks of pent-up desire have done to him--but he’s starting to regret that choice.

Indrid flicks hair from his face and wraps his lips around the head of the cock experimentally. He hums, sucking on it a moment, then pulls back blushing, “This is going to sound strange but, ah, I, I really like that. It’s such a lovely texture on my tongue, it’s, it’s almost soothing to suck.”

“Guess you better keep suckin it then, huh?” Duck runs the fingers of his right hand through Indrid’s hair.

“Is that really alright? It can’t feel like much on your end.”

“Don’t mean it ain’t fun to watch. But, uh” he touches the edge of Indrid’s red glasses, “it okay if I take these off?”

Indrid nods and Duck slides them free, tucks them into his breast pocket for safekeeping as Indrid draws the cock into his mouth again. He focuses on the head at first, humming and moaning as it bumps his cheek. Then Duck sees him swallow and relax the muscles of his jaw as he presses closer. Little puffs of breath tickle Duck’s skin as Indrid gets most of the cock in his mouth, cheeks hollowing and head bobbing as he sucks. Hungry noises burlbe up his throat, and the more he lets himself go the messier he becomes, spit coating his lips and eyes fluttering closed in bliss.

“Okay, I lied.”

Brown eyes shoot him a disbelieving look.

“This ain’t fun. This is one of the hottest fuckin things I’ve ever seen.”

Indrid wiggles happily on his knees, left hand dropping to rubs his own cock through his jeans.

“Needy little thing, gotta have somethin down your throat and around your dick at the same time.”

“MMMhhmmm” Indrid purrs, the picture of filthy perfection.

“If, if you swallow the whole thing, I’ll let you finger-fuck me.”

Both hands fly to his thighs with an excited moan. Indrid’s brow crinkles with determination as he slowly, carefully brings his lips to the base of the toy. Duck groans out “good boy” and shoves his pants down, Indrid helping to drag them to his ankles. Indrid keeps his left hand on Duck’s hip while the right hovers below his folds. Duck takes it, the toy making the angle a bit awkward, and guides it against him.

“Start with one.”

Indrid nods, moans reverently as he obeys. Duck curses, looks down to find Indrid watching him attentively. Duck is going to wreck him. Then he’s going to cuddle him to sleep and wonder at the fact he got this lucky.

“You’re doin’ great, sugar. Promise I’ll tell you if you need to adjustOH, ohyeah” he lets his head rest against the chipped white of the door, “that’s the spot. Fuck it, add one more, Ahfuck, yeah, those artists fingers are fuckin perfect for this.”

Another purr and then a sharp, choked noise. Duck looks down, realizing he rolled his hips without meaning to. Before he can apologize, Indrid grips his thigh and shakes his head.

“You like that?”

“Mmhhmmm” Indrid traces a heart on his belly.

“You’ll pull off you need to?”

“Mhmmmm.” Indrid curls his fingers as his stretched lips manage to grin.

“Fuck!” Duck giggles, “okay, if my darlin wants his face fucked, that’s what he’ll get.” He keeps a hand on Indrid’s shoulder as he lets loose, grunts and curses mingling with the increasingly wet moans of his cock claiming Indrid’s throat. Soon he’s out of words, too busy with the sight of himself forcing Indrid’s lips apart as he tightens around his fingers. Handjobs are a toss-up for him most days; sometimes they work, other times he can’t cum from them at all. It turns out what makes it very easy to do so is-

“‘Drid, fuck, fuck, sugar, yeah, right there, rightthererightthere ohfuckyeah.” He cums, jerking his hips hard enough to punch a new, high sound from Indrid’s throat. The other man pulls off, rests his cheek on Duck’s belly with shuddery, satisfied sighs.

“Y’know” Duck unbuttons his shirt from the bottom up so Indrid can more easily nuzzle the skin there, “I had this whole plan where I was gonna fuck you with this and then ride your face to cum.”

“I’m not opposed.” Indrid grins, bouncing a bit.

“Yeah, but I’ve only got one in me tonight. So” He tosses the shirt away, pulls off the harness as Indrid nibbles his hips, “if you wanna cum, you’re gonna have to do all the work.”

An edge enters his smile, “I can manage that.”

Duck hits the floor with a whump, Indrid trapping him on his back and climbing atop him, all the while kissing him with abandon.

“May I fuck you?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Condom?”

“Dop kit, bathroom, aw come back.”

“Patience, sweetheart” Indrid blows him a kiss, returns a few moments later doing an inelegant dance to kick his jeans and boxers away, “got one!”

“Good, now get back down here before I-AHfuck!” Indrid is on him and in him so fast it knocks his breath away.

“Before what? You’re not going anywhere, you’re mine, alllllll mine.” He drags kisses across Duck’s cheek, then bites his chapped lip as he looks down at him, “right?”

“You know it, nnng, fuck, that’s it sugar, be a good boy and cum for me. Fuck, darlin, wanted this so bad.” He locks his fingers into silver hair to keep Indrid in kissing distance as the other man whimpers, thrusts shallow and rabbity.

“Want you too, so much, I’ll be worth it, I swear, I’ll be good, I’ll, I’ll make you so happy.”

Duck rests their foreheads together, “You already do.”

There’s a high, gasping moan, almost like a chirp, and Indrid rides out his orgasm in drawn-out rolls of his hips. Then he collapses, laughing, on Duck’s chest.

“I, I’m sorry, I just never thought I’d get this. Someone wanting me. Choosing me.”

“I mean, I went on a T.V show to find love, so I know a little somethin about that fear. But I also know findin you is better than anythin I ever imagined.”

“Likewise.” Indrid nestles closer, one hand reaching out to hold Duck’s where it’s flopped on the rug.

“...You realize this means there’s a fifty-fifty chance your brother will win.”

Indrid shrugs, lifts his head to smile at Duck, “I leave that to Vincent. I already got my prize.”

[littleabriel-blog]

My Problem with Loki

Loki is a character beloved by many people. He has been for a decade now, although some people who read comics before the Marvel Cinematic Universe was a thing were fans of him long before the first Thor came out. Over the years since his appearance in that movie the character has gone through a lot of changes, evolving from a villain to an anti-hero both in the MCU and in the comics, the latter even killing off his original incarnation to reincarnate him in a younger body resembling Tom Hiddleston in the hopes that the comics could capitalize on his popularity in order to sell more books. That move, unfortunately, did not bear fruit, with Loki’s solo series being canceled after only five issues. However, Loki remained popular in the movies, so much so that when he was killed off in Infinity War, people were pissed.

As a result of his enduring popularity, Kevin Feige and company decided to give Loki his own solo series on Disney+ when the decision was made to create a string of MCU tie-in shows to supplement the movies, and boost subscription numbers to Disney’s new streaming service. Fans of the character rejoiced. Finally, our favorite character was going to be in the spotlight, and not be merely a supporting character for Thor and hopefully not a butt monkey for the Avengers like he was in the third act of the movie of the same name. WandaVision and The Falcon and The Winter Soldier had previously had well-received and successful debuts on that same platform, and it was hoped that Loki would do the same. Loki turned out to be the most successful of the Disney+ MCU shows that have come out so far, scoring highest in the ratings. As of this writing, it holds a 93% fresh rating on Rotten Tomatoes and an 8.5 on IMDb.

Those numbers, however, don’t reflect the entire audience and there were a lot of people who were not altogether happy with the product we received. Many people who had been hardcore fans of Loki since Tom Hiddleston first put on the horned helmet were not pleased, myself included.  

The show wasn’t all bad. It did set up the multiverse, introduced Kang, introduced Mobius. The special effects were outstanding, a lot of the gags were hilarious, and we did get some character development from Loki before the spotlight fell away from him and he became all about panting after the real main character...more on that in a few.  

So many things, however, were wrong.  

If you liked the show, thought it was perfect, and were a fan of the romance, that’s perfectly fine. There is no such thing as a wrong opinion on a work of fiction. Everyone has their interpretations, everyone has their likes and dislikes, and there is nothing wrong with liking the show. There is also nothing wrong with not liking the show. This is a concept that people on both sides of the debate fail to understand, and I have witnessed flame wars, harassment from individuals on both sides, harassment of creators on social media from both sides, and various bits of biphobia, homophobia, transphobia, and other assorted types of phobias on display. I have seen people accuse people who have different opinions on the show than them of “not being a true Loki fan” and stating that people who have certain interpretations of the character don’t “truly know Loki”.

I’m not here to do that, and I assure you, if you liked the show, that’s fine. You’re allowed to. I’m allowed to not like it, and I’m allowed to explained why I didn’t like it just as you’re allowed to explain why you did. As long as both of us are being respectful, expressing an opinion is good. There is expressing an opinion and offering constructive criticism, however, and then there is namecalling, trolling, and having a tantrum and accusing someone of being “aggressive” when they don’t share the same opinion you do.

There is a huge difference between saying “I find the character of Sylvie to be problematic, and here is why” and “I think fans of Sylvie are sick and need therapy”, and people need to learn the difference between the two. Unfortunately, you have people who have become very protective of their favorite characters and tend to take any criticism leveled at said characters personally. It’s basically “You don’t like them? Well then you don’t like me, and since you don’t like me, I don’t like you.” Which is, frankly, a dangerous mentality to have. We are talking about fictional characters, not real people, and there is no need to jump to the defense of someone who does not exist. It is those people who tend to demonstrate that they have unstable personalities and immaturity, and they are the ones I have started blocking on Twitter because, being an adult woman, I don’t have the patience to deal with immature nonsense like that.

So, if you read this and then decide you want to hunt me down to give me a piece of your mind, tell me that I’m not a “true” fan of Loki, and accuse me of whatever, don’t bother. This piece isn’t here for that. It’s here because I wanted to compile my thoughts and feelings in a way that would better for me to articulate. It’s more or less a venting mechanism, purely for my benefit. If someone else gets something out of it, fine. If the creators of the show happen to see it, which is very unlikely because A) I’m not exactly going to push it onto them on their social media to get them to read it and B) they already get bombarded with tons of opinions on the show on a daily basis and aren’t going to care about one more voice added to the mix, even one who has basically compiled a novel, then alright.

And it is a novel, because I have a lot to say about Loki. I have been a huge fan of the character since long before Tom Hiddleston began playing him. My first encounter with Marvel’s Loki came in the form of the X-Men comics, specifically The Asgardian Wars run. It’s available in trade, and you should check it out. I read that run when I was around 10 years old, and I enjoyed Loki as the bad guy in the two stories that make up the collection. The first has him creating a special wish fountain that has a monkey’s paw effect in that it imbues mortals with special gifts and powers, and has the potential to make Earth a better place, but at the cost of killing every magical person and being on Earth. The X-Men and Alpha Flight find out about this after a plane piloted by the wife of one of the X-Men happens to crash in the general location the fountain is located. The two teams go to investigate, Shaman and Snowbird who are both magical beings begin dying, it’s discovered Loki created the fountain in order to score brownie points with The Ones Who Sit Above In Shadow (a pantheon of deities who are basically the Gods to the Asgardians), and after a lengthy battle Loki is defeated, he shuts down the fountain under pressure from The Ones, and slinks back to Asgard with tail between his legs.

In the second story, set after the heroes of Earth had helped Asgard defeat Surtur, Loki’s attention is caught by Storm, who at the time was depowered. He kidnaps her and brings her to Asgard intending to use her to replace Thor as the Goddess of the Storm, and use her as a pawn to, what else, conquer Asgard and seize the throne.  

I really enjoyed Loki then, and felt sorry that he never appeared in any other X-Men story, not even in an issue of the New Mutants, and that team boasted an actual Valkyrie (Danielle Moonstar) as one of its members. I was a kid at the time and read pretty much exclusively X-Men since those were the books my father purchased for me. I never felt right about asking him for other books since we were a family with money struggles and I didn’t want to be more of a burden by requesting Thor or Avengers comics--that, and I just didn’t find Thor or the Avengers all that interesting at the time, a sentiment shared by a lot of people until the first Iron Man made us actually care about Tony Stark. I wouldn’t have an opportunity to start reading more comics featuring Loki until I was an adult and able to visit comic book stores on my own. I read several runs that featured him as a character, including Ragnarok, the Broxton, OK run where Loki first appeared as a woman, Dark Reign, and finally Siege. I also went back and read Walt Simonson’s legendary run on The Mighty Thor, which I highly recommend.  

Suffice it to say, I’ve been a fan of the character for a long time, and in fact when Tom Hiddleston was cast in the role for Thor, I remember thinking that he was too young. But then I figured it was Hollywood, of course they’re going to deage Loki so that he appears closer in age to his adopted brother in contrast to the comics pre-Siege where Loki was often drawn to look like he was as old as Odin and therefore could be Thor’s uncle or even father as opposed to brother.  

Over the years I grew to enjoy the MCU’s version of the character, enjoy Tom Hiddleston in the role, and like most other people was greatly saddened by his death in Infinity War. Like other fans, I looked forward to his solo series and had high hopes for it. Hopes that were, unfortunately, dashed.

It Was Rushed

In the MCU, it took Loki years to go from troubled young god, to villain, to ambivalent ally, to anti-hero, to hero. Literally, years. Months had passed between the end of Thor and the beginning of Avengers during which Loki endured who-knows-what at the hands of Thanos. We don’t know exactly what still. The Loki series didn’t answer that, I guess because they didn’t want to devote precious screentime to an interesting backstory for what was supposed to be the main character when they could focus on something else instead. That something else will be elaborated on.

In Episode 1, Loki is still the villain from Avengers, something he would have remained as into The Dark World. It would take him being in Asgard’s prisons for a year and then him accidentally getting his adopted mother Frigga killed in order for him to begin to do a heel-face turn. From this, we can clearly see that a transition from ax-crazy bad guy to anti-hero is not going to happen overnight. For this person I shall call Ragnarok Loki, it was a process that took time. He suffered a complete mental breakdown while in Asgard’s prison, a fragile emotional state that was compounded by the anger and massive guilt he felt at Frigga’s death.  

Even after that, he still hadn’t completely abandoned his villainous ways. At the end of The Dark World we find out that after faking his supposed death earlier in the movie, Loki has assumed Odin’s form and taken his place on Asgard’s throne. In Ragnarok, Loki is still sitting on the throne in Odin’s form, and shows no indication at all that he feels any remorse for giving his adopted father amnesia, stripping away his magic, and abandoning him on Earth to whatever fate he might meet. Loki remains a selfish bastard throughout Ragnarok until the third act, after Thor had treated him to a taste of his own medicine by sticking a taser on him and then giving him a speech about becoming predictable and complacent.  

Loki’s arc was one that spanned four movies and six years, since in-universe there were a couple of years between The Dark World and Ragnarok. That meant that his character development took actual time and was realistic. It was one of the things that drew people to the character, the fact that he had a very relatable and believable redemption arc.

Compare that to Episode 1. In less than a day he goes from being the Loki that we saw in Avengers, batshit crazy, selfish, callous, and untrusting, to making personal confessions to a man he had just met only a couple hours previously and agreeing to help the organization that had arrested, stripped, imprisoned, tried, and almost executed him.

What?

I will give the show this: In Episode 2, he shows that he’s still up to his old tricks when he feeds Mobius and the agents all that horsecrap about how a Loki works in the Ren Faire tent, and then revealing that he plans to take over the TVA when he confronts his variant in the futuristic Wal-Mart. The weeping confession to Mobius, that I can’t really get over. How do you go from haughty, arrogant, and “trust is for children and dogs”, to “I don’t enjoy hurting people” in just a couple of hours? The show never indicated that it was a manipulation tactic on Loki’s part. Instead, we were basically told to believe that they became friends just that fast. That emotionally stunted and closed-off Loki made a connection with another person in a matter of hours. Makes sense. Don’t get me wrong, I like Mobius and feel he makes a good foil for Loki. I hope to see more of him in the future. I just have a tough time finding their friendship all that believable.

This would not be the only relationship in the show that happened too fast that we were forced to just buy, which leads me to Sylvie.

She’s the variant that the TVA had been hunting, that Mobius recruited Loki to help capture. And while I normally hate it when people ascribe a certain label onto a new female character because reasons (ones that are usually misogynistic), I think it fits rather well in Sylvie’s case.

Enter The Mary Sue

Mary Sue is a term that gets thrown around a lot. To sum up the meaning in very simple terms, it refers to a character who is too perfect to be believable. Mary Sues are often author-self inserts in fiction, they’re usually the love interest for at least one male hero and it’s usually the male hero the author will admit to having a crush on, their scenes usually are presented much more descriptively than those of the other characters, the story will revolve around them often at the expense of the development and plots for the other characters of the story, and they’re presented as beautiful, powerful, intelligent, beautiful, special, strong, beautiful, and desirable. Yes, beautiful is on the list more than once, and it’s deliberate.

The term comes from an old Star Trek parody fanfic, and while it is usually applied to original characters in fan fiction, the term has been used to describe characters in canon media as well. Some examples of characters who have been described as Mary Sues would include Bella from the Twilight books, Felicity from the show Arrow, Jaenelle Angelline from Anne Bishop’s The Black Jewel novels, Sookie Stackhouse from True Blood, Rey from the last Star Wars trilogy, and Jean Grey from the X-Men comics. Note I do not necessarily agree that those characters are Mary Sues, I have merely heard these characters referred to as Mary Sues, and when I look at them objectively I can kind of see where the accusations come from. Some other terms that can apply are Creator’s Pet and of course Author Self-Insert. Not all Mary Sues are Author Self-Inserts, but a lot of them are. Also, not all characters who can be labeled Mary Sues are female, though they often are. The male version of a Mary Sue is called a Marty Stu, and a couple of characters I’ve seen get ascribed that label include Harry Potter, Daemon Sadi from Anne Bishop’s The Black Jewel novels, Edward from Twilight, and Red Hulk from Marvel Comics. Even Batman and Wolverine haven’t been immune from the Marty Stu stamp, although you can argue that it does apply in their cases especially depending on who’s writing them. Sometimes it is painfully obvious they are author self-inserts...the aforementioned Bella is a good example. Others, you can only speculate on. And while there are theories going around that Sylvie is someone’s self-insert, we don’t have definitive proof of that.

There are good arguments, however, for her being labeled a Mary Sue and Creator’s Pet.

First are her powers. In the show we are told that Sylvie taught herself magic, especially her ability to “enchant”, the power to get into the minds of others and manipulate them. The fact that she taught herself would indicate that her education and skill in using magic should be lacking, right? She should not be as good as, say, someone who learned magic from his foster mother who herself was taught by Asgardian witches?

Yet in the show, Sylvie not only runs circles around Loki magically wise, she even teaches him a few tricks. This is startlingly in contrast to the comics. Loki’s Sylvie is partially based on the character Sylvie Lushton from the Young Avengers, a bad guy who was once a normal girl whom Loki imbued with powers before his death at the hands of the Sentry during the events of 2010’s Siege storyline. In the comics, Loki not only gave Sylvie her powers, but he was the one who taught her how to use them. Now, of course things in the MCU are not going to follow the way things are in the comics. MCU Loki is nowhere near as old as comics Loki and has so far not demonstrated the ability to give other beings powers. And MCU Sylvie is a composite of Sylvie Lushton and Lady Loki, which is also problematic, but we’ll get to that.

But the point is that Sylvie had no training. Her magic is some improvised slapped-together stuff that at best she picked up here and there and at worst she just pulled out of her ass. Now, knowing that, we’re supposed to buy that she can mop the floor magically wise with someone who was formally trained by a sorceress? And that furthermore, she can school him as well?

To make up for her lack of experience and knowledge, Loki is nerfed. Power wise and intellectually wise, he is nerfed. In Thor and Avengers Loki is smart, well-spoken, and a master manipulator. At one point he is able to turn all of the Avengers against one another, and while his magic has never been anywhere near the level it was at in the comics pre-Siege (after his resurrection, he was powered down and is currently nowhere near the powerhouse he had been prior to 2011) he was able to pull off some impressive displays of skill nonetheless. Shape shifting, illusion casting, it was a good repertoire.  

In Episode 3, however...well, he does use teleportation to some impressive affect during his fight with Sylvie, but he still doesn’t get the upperhand. And he should. Loki is a better trained fighter, better trained in sorcery, and realistically should have at the least managed to incapacitate his variant. He doesn’t however, because the moment he meets Sylvie his IQ drops about 20 points. He falls easily for her tricks, makes laughable plans, gets drunk and draws too much attention when he knows that is a bad idea, and manages to get them both stuck on a moon that will soon be dust courtesy of the rogue planet about to crash into it. Loki has made some blunders in the various MCU movies he’s been in, mostly due to his own arrogance and tendency to underestimate his foes, but he’s not that stupid. In fact, in The Dark World he screams at Thor and calls him an idiot for drawing attention to themselves by hijacking an elven ship and crashing into every column and statue within a fifty-foot radius.

Where exactly is that smart, calculating, more careful Loki we know from the films? He’s been transformed and dumbed down, in an attempt to prop Sylvie up. It’s a tired trope, making the male character a dumbass in order to make the female character look good. Well, I should say male-presenting and female-presenting characters in this case, but their supposed gender fluidity really is not represented well and it’s completely contradicted later on, but we’ll get to that.

Anyway, making the male character stupid in order to make the female character look better by comparison is not empowering. It’s insulting. It implies that women are not smart or capable enough to meet men on equal footing, that the only way we can shine is not by virtue of our own strengths, but merely by making us look better than the men.

She doesn’t just outshine Loki intellectually and power wise, she outshines him period. The show from Episode 3 on becomes about Sylvie. She is the show’s main focus, and Loki? He’s relegated to the role of supporting character in the series that’s named after him. Supporting character, and love interest. From Episode 3 on, the show might as well be called Sylvie.

Now, some people will say that since Sylvie is a Loki, the show was indeed focusing on Loki. The problem is, the show is very inconsistent as to whether or not Sylvie really is a Loki or a different person entirely. I will explain more later, but the writers seem to change Sylvie’s identity to suit whatever narrative they want to present to the audience, including the pre-Pixar Disney romance they foist upon us.

The Romance, and why some find it gross

One major characteristic of the Mary Sue is that she always draws the romantic and sexual interest of the main male character, who may or may not be a Marty Stu himself. Oftentimes he’s not, and Loki does not fit the criteria of a Marty Stu by any stretch of the imagination. These romances always happen fast with little to no buildup. There is no what writers of romance call “slow burn”, it’s just throw Mary at the male character, hook them up, and get the audience to buy it. Basically, it’s reminiscent of the romance stories in the Classical Era Disney animated films. Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and Cinderella all fall madly in love with their princes within minutes of meeting them. There’s no getting to know each other, there is no preamble, there is no slow courtship, no real drama to speak of. It’s basically Love At First Sight or True Love. This trend continues even into the Disney Renaissance. In The Little Mermaid, Ariel is willing to make a deal with a witch to give up her fins for a prince she hasn’t even spoken to yet. He doesn’t even know she exists, and she leaves her home and family behind, gives up her voice, all for a mere shot at hooking up with him.

That’s not love, that’s lust. That’s hormones overruling your brain, and it’s an insulting trope, one that feminists have railed against for years. Disney has made a little progress. The movie Frozen took the mickey out of the Love At First Sight/True Love trope with the song “Love Is An Open Door” and the prince Anna wanting to marry turning out to be a major sleazebag who just wants to use her, but we still only have three Disney princesses (Elsa, Moana, and Merida) who have never had love interests and two (Anna and Rapunzel) whose love stories come close to being slow burns, out of 12 official Princesses. There’s still a long way to go, and boy is there a major step backwards in Loki.  

In Episode 3, Loki fights Sylvie and they end up on Lamentis 1. Sylvie spends a good portion of the time insulting and trying to kill Loki, and Loki finds himself having to defend himself from her. That changes once they get on the train going to the Arc. After sneaking aboard the train using a disguise and a flimsy story, the two Lokis sit in a booth, where Loki proceeds to drink champagne. It is then that, out of nowhere, the conversation shifts from how Sylvie learned her powers to the topic of love.

Why? Why would you bring that up in conversation with someone who was doing her best to kill you a couple hours prior?

Then Loki makes things worse by asking Sylvie if she has a beau waiting for her. Why? It doesn’t make sense. The two of you are at each other’s throats, she’s done her best to kill you, neither of you trusts the other, and, completely out of left field, you decide to basically ask “So...are you single?”

Now, enemies to lovers is a trope that can work when done right. Typically, it’s a very subtle, slow progression that the audience witnesses over time in a novel, movie or television series. Weeks and even months will go by in the narrative during which the two people go from wanting each other dead to developing feelings for one another. There’s usually a “will they, won’t they period” that lasts for some time that’s full of teases and flirting before the couple does hook up and gives the audience the resolution. Done in this way, enemies to lovers can work.

This...this is not the right way to do enemies to lovers. Within a couple of hours Loki and Sylvie go from hatred and doing their damnedest to stabbing one another in the backs, to having a connection that causes a nexus event?

By the way, that nexus event makes no sense. In Episode 2, it is established that it is impossible to create a nexus event in an apocalypse. It is why Sylvie was able to avoid capture by the TVA for so long. In fact, just minutes prior to the two of them almost dying in Episode 4, Sylvie flat-out says that she figured out that she needed to hide in apocalypses because she discovered she didn’t create a nexus event when she hid in them.

Now the two of them are able to create a nexus event in the midst of an apocalypse? Why? Their “connection” isn’t going to lead to any consequences...they were about to die. No one else need never have known about the “moment” the two of them shared. It’s very confusing and the only purpose it really serves is to paint Loki and Sylvie as soulmates, which doesn’t make sense in the context of the show. The concept of soulmates is that for every person, there is someone out there they are predestined to be with. Loki is a show that, at the core of it, is about rejecting predestination and embracing free will. In that context, the idea of soulmates is ludicrous and contradictory to the message that we make our own destiny. This is why True Love is unrealistic, and I hate to break it to you romantics out there, but Love At First sight does not exist.

Infatuation At First Sight exists, but that is not Love, no matter what your hormones are telling you. Love takes time to evolve, and it takes work to maintain. It sure as hell doesn’t happen after less than 12 hours of knowing each other, during which a huge chunk of time was devoted to trying to manipulate, outsmart, and murder the person you’re supposedly in love with. No one falls in love in less than 12 hours, period, unless it’s a Classical Era Disney animated movie. They basically turned Loki into a big Disney Romance trope. I have a very hard time buying that Loki, who we have established is emotionally stunted and closed off, would form a love connection in just a few hours, especially with someone who was doing her best to murder him in that timespan.

That is not the only reason this relationship is problematic. The term “Selfcest” has been thrown around, and a lot of defenders of this particular ship claim that the term was very recently made up in social media for the sole purpose of badmouthing this particular romance. That is not the case. Selfcest is a term that has existed among fiction writers for years, it’s just that more people have recently become aware of it thanks to this show. The trope has been used and referred to in various works of fiction, especially in fantasy and science fiction where cloning, alternative universes, and magic occur. A lot of the insults I get from people who can’t stand that I don’t like the romance basically go along the lines of saying selfcest doesn’t exist. No, it doesn’t...in reality. But this isn’t reality, is it? It’s fiction. It’s a fictional world where such a thing could be possible, and even in works where it’s not possible it’s often alluded to.

In A Song Of Ice And Fire, we have the infamous twincest relationship going on between Cersei and Jamie Lannister, and it is heavily implied that sleeping with her brother is the closest that Cersei can get to banging herself and that is why she does it. Jamie is basically everything she feels she should have been and was denied due to being born a woman. In fact, in later books when he reunites with her after having been away from King’s Landing for over a year, during which time he’s grown a beard and shaved his head, Cersei no longer finds him as attractive since they no longer look as much alike.

And with advances in cloning, selfcest might be possible in the future. We already have sex robots, and people with money are capable of making those robots look like themselves. There is nothing stopping them from doing it.

Knowing all of this, the argument of “selfcest doesn’t exist!” falls flat. And it especially falls flat when you’re referring to a fictional universe where a large purple man once killed off half the population of said universe with a snap of his fingers, where scientists turn into giant green monsters, the Norse gods not only exist but regularly interact with people on Earth, and there’s such a thing as a Sorcerer Supreme.

As I have said, the show has been rather inconsistent in stating what exactly Sylvie’s identity is. One moment, we are told Sylvie is a Loki and that she and Loki are the same person. Mobius says it, Kang says it multiple times, Judge Renslayer says it, the director and the writers state it in interviews. But then in the next breath, they contradict it by saying that she’s not a Loki, she’s Sylvie and a different person.  

You can’t have it both ways. Which is it? Either she’s a Loki, or she’s not. The narrative is very confusing and it changes depending on how they want us to see Sylvie, especially in relation to her romance with Loki. It’s so much easier to avoid the selfcest/incest accusations when you can say they are different people. But then they say they’re the same person. Make up your minds!

Since the show first established that Sylvie is a Loki, I’m going with that. Especially since we saw a bit of her backstory. She grew up in Asgard as a member of the royal family, which means she had Odin as a father, Frigga as mother, and Thor as brother. She may or may not have the same DNA as Loki. We never got confirmation either way, and there are people who argue that they don’t to which I have to ask: How do you know? The show never tells us! “Oh, well, there’s Alligator Loki, are you going to say he has the same DNA as well?” Well, we are never told how exactly Alligator Loki came to be. Is he actually an alligator, or is he Loki who somehow got permanently stuck when he shapeshifted? People tend to forget that he can do that. Ragnarok established that he can turn into a snake, and a deleted scene actually had the childhood story go that Loki turned into a rug to cover a hole in the ground and then dumped Thor into it. There is the scene where Doctor Strange drops Loki through a portal, and Thor is left poking at a business card, and it is clear that for a moment he thinks that Loki turned into that. We know Loki can shapeshift, so Alligator Loki can very well have the same DNA. We just don’t know, because the show never explains it for the same reason the show cut out the scenes with Throg fighting Loki...to devote more screentime to Sylki.

Even if they don’t have the same DNA, it’s still established that they are the same person, they have the same family, they’re both the God/dess of Mischief, and even Sylvie herself acknowledges that she is a Loki despite the fact that she changed her name. So selfcest very much applies here, and a good argument can be made that selfcest is the ultimate in incest...after all, there isn’t anyone else you’re more related to than yourself. It is very understandable, therefore, that a lot of people would be very, very uncomfortable with such a relationship. Having the same DNA would merely be the icing on the very gross cake.

Furthermore, just because selfcest does not exist in reality does not mean someone can’t find the concept distasteful. “It’s not real!” “It’s just fiction!” Yes, and people are allowed to have their own feelings and opinions on fiction. If they find the idea of selfcest hard to stomach, that’s their prerogative and you really have no right to tell them they are wrong for feeling that way. They should not have to justify to anyone why they feel that way either. No one owes you an explanation for why they find real world incest or cannibalism distasteful, so they don’t owe you an explanation for this.

“Well, of course Loki would fall for himself...he’s a narcissist!” Is he though? Is he really? Having dealt with my fair share of narcissists in my life, I have to wonder if the fans who say that, along with the writers, know what a narcissist really is.

Is Loki a narcissist?

Bringing up Cersei Lannister again, the novels she appears in establishes that she is an extreme narcissist. She sleeps with her twin brother because it’s the closest she can come to sleeping with herself, and she desires to do that because she is a narcissist. A narcissist is someone whose personality is defined by an inflated sense of self-importance, troubled relationships, lack of empathy for others, and an excessive deep-seated need for attention and admiration. It’s a very simplistic definition, and there are plenty of YouTube videos devoted to delving into narcissists into more depth, as well as videos on how to cope with the aftermath of abuse at the hands of narcissists. Narcissists are so devoted to themselves that they ignore the needs and the feelings of those in their lives, which often results in abusive behavior. There are entire support groups that exist for victims of narcissists.

At first glance, one can see why some might consider Loki a narcissist. He does engage in some pretty selfish behavior, he goes to great lengths to get attention, his relationships to his family are indeed fraught with drama, and he seems to have a pretty overinflated ego. He even goes so far as to write a play featuring himself as the central character, and build a giant golden statue of himself after taking over Asgard in the guise of Odin. But really, is his ego truly that big? Or he is overcompensating for his self-hatred and self-disgust?

Loki suffered quite the emotional blow when he found out his true heritage, a revelation that shook him to his very core. Of course, his relationship with his father suffered as a result...the man lied to him for his entire life. Their relationship really was not that great even before that since Odin found it easier to relate to Thor, who was more like him in personality, than to Loki, who was more cerebral and quieter. Loki’s relationship to Frigga fared much better. He’s quick to forgive her involvement in covering up the truth about his parentage, and it is obvious that they are close. Even his relationship with Thor prior to the events of the movie is not all that bad, the two brothers are affectionate and playful, and when Loki interrupts Thor’s coronation, it’s not just for the sake of creating trouble, but to postpone Thor taking the crown for another little while because he is not fit to rule. At the time Thor had yet to go through his character development arc on Earth and he was still an overly arrogant, bloodthirsty, elitist douchebag, so Loki really had a good point.

A true narcissist would have done what Loki did just for the sake of making life difficult for Thor. Also, he would have done it because he wanted the throne. Loki states repeatedly that he never wanted to rule. A true narcissist would have been all smiles about taking the throne instead of being reluctant about it as Loki was when Frigga handed him Gungnir.

Throughout the films, and in the first episode of the series, we see that Loki does indeed love his family and is capable of feeling guilt over the things that he does to them, intentionally or not. Narcissists typically don’t feel remorse. As far as they are concerned, they are perfect and can do no wrong, so they have nothing to feel bad about. If they hurt you, it’s because you deserved it. You shouldn’t have provoked their ire.

Loki feels bad for getting Frigga killed, and then later on Odin. Then he is in tears when Odin dies, and later at the mere thought of never seeing Thor again when the two brothers talk in an elevator on Sakaar. Those are not the actions of someone who is incapable of loving anyone but himself, as I’ve seen so many people claim about him. And the fact that he sacrificed himself to save his brother also kind of kills the whole “narcissist” narrative.

In Episode 1, Loki breaks down and confesses to Mobius that he doesn’t like hurting people. He does it because it’s part of the façade, and admits that he sees himself as weak. A few episodes later, he admits to a memory illusion Sif that he craves attention “because I’m a narcissist” and admits to being afraid of being alone. That is far more self-reflection than a typical narcissist is capable of in my experience. As I said, narcissists tend to think they are perfect. A true narcissist would never admit to having any flaws, and sure as hell would never admit that they are a narcissist. As far as the true narcissist is concerned, if you find them flawed in any way, that’s on you. The narcissist has no need for self-reflection because they honestly see nothing wrong with themselves, and believe that they don’t need to change...it’s everyone else who does.

A good real-life example from my past is a former friend I’ll call D. D was a self-proclaimed brat who was quite proud of the fact that she could be difficult to be in a relationship with and tended to go through men like tissue paper. She was demanding, self-centered, extremely jealous, manipulative, and prone to wild mood swings. She could and did go from zero to insane at the drop of a hat. In the time I knew her, she left a string of burnt guys behind, and according to her it was because they just weren’t man enough to handle her. She also left behind a string of broken former friends, to the point where there really needed to be a support group for former friends of D who suddenly had her turn them into Public Enemy Number 1 when they either started taking attention away from D, or...well, that was it really. As I said, she was a very jealous person and had a chronic need to be the center of attention, especially if there were men around. Anyway, instead of working on herself to become less self-involved, self-absorbed, and more empathetic, she double downed on her abrasiveness and constant need for attention until she finally wore the poor man down and he either ghosted her or outright dumped her. She never broke up with them, preferring to keep them around for as long as they were willing in order to toy with them as a cat does with a mouse.  I tried to talk to her about her horrible behavior, but instead of taking my constructive criticism and maybe using it to make some needed changes, she completely turned on me and did her best to make my life hell until I finally cut her out of it. I learned two things: Narcissists don’t want help because they don’t feel they need it and they are never going to change as a result, and never, ever try to confront a narcissist. It’ll only end badly.  

A more famous example? Former US President Donald Trump. I won’t get into that, because really all you need to do is perform a quick Google search to see what all he’s done and witness his narcissism on full display. But really, place him side by side with Loki. Do you see any similarities at all? Maybe on the surface, but when you go deeper...no. Loki is not a narcissist. He’s capable of deep self-reflection, owns his faults, is capable of loving others, and feels remorse. I would argue that anyone who says he is a narcissist, either does not know the character, or hasn’t ever actually dealt with a narcissist in real life, to which I can only say: Lucky you.  

I honestly would argue that calling Loki a narcissist is actually doing a disservice to victims of abuse from actual narcissists.

What about Sylvie? Well, in contrast to Loki who does show remorse while Mobius is playing that “This Is Your Life” reel for him, Sylvie shows no remorse or regret. She knows that the TVA agents she kills are as much victims as she is. They are innocent variants who were kidnapped from Earth and forced to work for the TVA after having their memories wiped. She knows this, yet the first time we see her she burns a bunch of TVA agents alive, and she just stands there watching as they scream in agony. In the next episode she says right out that she’s “having some fun” while possessing the body of C-90 and murdering more agents. She is not at all sorry about doing what she did, and we’re supposed to be understanding since she was kidnapped as a child. Okay, but the entire TVA didn’t do that. The agents she kills didn’t personally kidnap her. The only one we see who was directly involved in that is Renslayer. Sylvie “did what she had to do”, fine. But she doesn’t feel bad about it, at all. The flashback to her as a child takes great pains to try to show us what a good person she is when she cries out “Help him!” as another prisoner is being beaten, but I guess she grew out of it.

We don’t know if Sylvie has any other narcissistic traits besides lack of remorse because, well, the show really doesn’t do much to show her personality. Other than killing people, trying to kill Loki, and then flirting with Loki, we just don’t really see much to her. It’s another trait of a Mary Sue. Mary Sues often have bland, one-dimensional personalities. After all, their only purpose is usually to serve as love interests for one or more male characters. Mary Sues break the “show, don’t tell” rule by having the other characters verbally inform us about their traits, usually while singing their praises, but we don’t actually see those traits in the Mary Sue herself.

Loki calls Sylvie “amazing”, but how amazing is she, really? She kills people she knows are victims, she endangers the timeline just to sneak into the TVA, and then she kills Kang despite knowing that there is a very good chance that doing so could unleash something far, far worse than him. Then again, it doesn’t have to make sense when you’re pushing an unwanted and unasked for romance on an audience who was expecting a scifi show, not a romance.

I have spoken in a few places about this. Romance is fine, but in a show that blatantly places itself in the scifi genre, it really should only be the background, not center stage. When I expressed this opinion, I got accused of being dismissive of an essential part of the human experience. Well, first of all, congratulations: You just invalidated the existence of people on the asexual and aromantic spectrums, not to mention people who are celibate by choice. Second, that is why we have the romance genre. To tell stories centered around romance. I like romance, I read romance novels, and I sometimes write romantic fiction. But there are some places where it just is not appropriate.

There are people who say that adding romance makes things more interesting. Nope, in those cases it’s just a smokescreen, something used to hide plot holes and distract us from just how empty the story really is. Writers like to say that if you need a romance to make things more interesting, then you really don’t have much of a story in the first place. And sadly, Loki does have some plot holes. The nexus event on Lamentis is a good example, and the romance is definitely used to distract us from that. People were so focused on “oh wow, they’re having a moment, they’re soulmates!” that they didn’t think “waitaminute...didn’t they say that nexus events can’t occur in apocalypses?”

We really did not need a romance in Loki. Period. It was unnecessary, it was distracting, a lot of people found it disturbing, and it actively hurt a marginalized group.

Loki Is A Queer Icon!...maybe

I am not going to say that the relationship between Loki and Sylvie is not a bisexual one. A bisexual relationship is a bisexual relationship regardless of whether or not the person the bisexual person is with is the opposite sex. Saying otherwise is biphobic. Biphobic people in both the straight and the queer communities have been excluding bisexual people who happen to be in opposite sex relationships for years because apparently one stops being bisexual once they get into a relationship with someone of the opposite sex. This is horseshit. I’ve been in relationships with CIS men, did I stop being attracted to other men, women, nonbinary, genderfluid, agender, and other genderqueer people? No. No, I didn’t, because while I was entangled, I was not dead. Heterosexual people don’t stop being attracted to other members of the opposite sex when they are in relationships, it’s no different with queer people.

So, stop saying that Loki and Sylvie are not a bisexual relationship. You’re not doing us any favors at all, and in fact you’re only helping the biphobes who want to kick us out of Pride and other queer spaces for daring to date members of the opposite sex.

I will address the “Bit of both” line however. In Episode 3, Loki has that response to Sylvie’s questioning about whether there had been any would-be princesses or princes in his life. Again, a conversation that comes out of nowhere. She stated outright that she didn’t trust him, clearly wanted him dead, and now she’s asking if he’s single. Whatever.

Anyway, people went nuts when Loki answered “A bit of both”. It was confirmation that Loki was bisexual, it was celebrated on social media...and it is really biphobic and Kate Herron, who is bisexual herself, really should have known better.

Biphobic people have long tried to sow division between the bi and trans communities (unsurprisingly, biphobia and transphobia tend to go hand-in-hand) by saying that the concept of being bisexual is transphobic. “Bi” means two, ergo bisexual people are only attracted to two genders, specifically CIS men and CIS women. It never occurs to anyone that the “two genders” a bisexual person could be attracted to could be, say, women (and yes, I include trans women in that, since they are in fact women, get over it) and non-binary people, or agender and gender-fluid people, it’s always CIS men and CIS women. This despite the fact that the definition of bisexual has been “attraction to more than one gender” since long before the Bisexual Manifesto was put out in 1990.

Some people have tried to remedy this by adopting the moniker of “pansexual” instead, which A) is basically reinforcing what biphobes are saying about bisexuals and creating even more division and B) doesn’t just mean “attraction to trans people as well, I’m not transphobic, I promise!” “Pansexual” is not interchangeable with “bisexual”. Pansexual is attraction to all genders. Bisexual means attraction to more than one gender, but not necessarily to all genders. You can have a bisexual person, for instance, who is attracted to all genders except for men. If you are attracted to more than one gender, but not to all genders, you are bisexual, and labeling yourself pansexual is lying and basically caving in to the biphobes.

I’m not trying to police what people call themselves...if you want to use the two terms interchangeably, if you want to call yourself bisexual, or pansexual, it’s fine. But just evaluate the reasons why. Are you calling yourself pansexual because you really think you can be, or are you just calling yourself that out of fear of being labeled transphobic? The latter, in my opinion, is not a really good reason, and it only helps deliver the biphobic message that bisexual people are transphobic.

So, by saying “a bit of both”, Loki is really helping to reinforce that biphobic assertion that bisexual people are attracted just to CIS men and CIS women. It’s disappointing, but it is Disney so I suppose that is the best we can expect for now. It just shows that Disney really has a long way to go.

What’s more problematic is the supposed genderfluid representation. Now, I am a CIS woman. As such, I feel unqualified to really say that the representation is shitty and fluidphobic. However, if I’m not qualified to say that it is, then Kate Herron and the writers are unqualified to say that it isn’t. Rule of thumb: If members of a marginalized group are telling you that you did a poor job of representing them and that you are being transphobic or fluidphobic, instead of ignoring and dismissing their concerns like a good portion of the population already does, it’s a really good idea to listen to what they are saying and learn how you can do better.

There have been some genderfluid and trans people who expressed that they liked the show, and good for them. But I have seen a lot of very valid criticisms and concerns from genderfluid and trans people about the representation on the show, and I think they really should be listened to. Kate, you and I are queer, but we are still CIS women. Ergo, we have no say in whether or not the way you attempted to present Loki’s gender fluidity is transphobic. If genderfluid people say it’s fluidphobic or trans people say it’s transphobic, then it is indeed fluidphobic/transphobic. To say otherwise is gaslighting a marginalized community who already faces gaslighting on a daily basis.

I will touch on a couple of things.

First, in Episode 5, Loki asks a bunch of his variants if they have ever encountered a female version of themselves, a question that is met with varying levels of incredulousness and even disgust. If Loki was truly genderfluid, this question wouldn’t have been asked. Genderfluid means the person shifts genders along the spectrum. Loki does this in the comics. Comicbook Loki switches between masculine and feminine presenting on the drop of a dime, especially in his current incarnation. Loki in the MCU we are told is also genderfluid, and should also be able to hop along the gender spectrum on a whim. There should not be a “female variant” therefore, since they are all the same gender. There could be a female presenting variant, but that is not the same thing. They would still be all genderfluid in that case. Also, Sylvie’s nexus event would not have been “being born the Goddess of Mischief”. Okay, the show never actually says that is the nexus event that led to her being arrested, but it heavily implies it. If Sylvie is a Loki, and as a Loki is genderfluid, her being the “Goddess” of Mischief should never have been an issue since they can change genders anyway.

Second, making Lady Loki a separate person is problematic. A lot of genderfluid people felt that this move invalidated their identity by basically showing that the same person cannot indeed be different genders along the spectrum. I don’t feel I’m totally qualified to really get into this. I will just say that if you’re going to write a genderfluid character, maybe at least get an actual genderfluid person to advise in the writing room.

Third, there is a transphobic movement called trans exclusionary radical feminism. You might have heard of it. Unfortunately, it is a very widespread movement that has done a lot of harm to the trans community, successfully blocking funding to organizations that help trans people, blocking laws that would benefit trans people, and the movement includes celebrities like Graham Linehan and JK Rowling.

One of the weapons they like to use against trans women is the concept of “autogynephilia”. It is basically the sexual fetish of becoming aroused from thinking of oneself as a woman.  Many, many of these transphobic “feminists” love to say that trans women are merely men who have this particular sexual fetish.

It’s bullshit of course. Maybe there is a small segment of the male population that has that fetish, but trans women are not included in that. For trans women, things like dressing as women, changing their names, having state and federal issued IDs that say they are female, and being able to use the restrooms and change rooms that match the gender they actually are as opposed to the one they were assigned at birth is not a matter of sexual arousal. It’s a matter of making their external realities match their internal ones. It’s a matter of validation of their identities as women. Sexual gratification has nothing to do with it.

Now, Loki is not trans, but genderfluid people do tend to fall under the trans umbrella. We have Loki, a supposedly genderfluid individual and masculine presenting, falling head over heels in love with a feminine presenting version of himself. Maybe it’s just me, but it just seems like a form of autogynephilia to me.

Way to go, Kate...you just gave the TERFs more ammo.

One more note: At one point, Kate tweeted a list of the different Loki emojis, and “jokingly” included #FiretruckLoki with an emoji of a firetruck. Kate, you do realize that a “joke” transphobes love to harp on is that they can identify as an attack helicopter, right?

It’s his way of learning self-love!

That is not how you learn self-love.

First, the people who are making this argument often contradict themselves by then saying that Sylvie is a different person. Again, make up your minds. Either Sylvie is the same person as Loki, or she’s not. You can’t have it both ways, and you can’t continue to change the narrative to fit whatever it is you want to shove down the audience’s throats.

Second, romantic love and self-love are two different things entirely. Loki isn’t feeling self-love with Sylvie, he’s feeling romantic love. That’s not learning self-love. That's narcissism, and it’s character regression in his case. He’s supposed to be evolving past being a self-centered, egotistical shitweasel, and falling in love with a variant of himself makes him, as Mobius put it, “a seismic narcissist”. It’s not character development.  

Third, this argument tends to come in the same breath as saying that Loki is a narcissist so of course he would fall for a variant of himself. If Loki is a narcissist though, why would he need to learn self-love? Narcissists already love themselves, that is the very definition of the word. If Loki needs to learn self-love, that would imply that he actually hates himself, which is the opposite of narcissism. Again, the writers and the fans who make these arguments when they feel the need to defend this relationship need to make up their minds. Either he’s a narcissist and therefore already loves himself too much, or he hates himself and needs to learn to love himself. It’s once again changing the narrative to fill a plothole.  

Fourth, the whole learning self-love and trust narrative is completely thrown out the window in Episode 6 when Sylvie decides to toy with Loki’s emotions, using his feelings for her against him by kissing him as a distraction so she could grab Kang’s temp pad and toss Loki back to the TVA. To Sylvie, her revenge was more important than the bond she had with him. The move basically set Loki’s progress back several steps. What little progress he made anyway.

TL:DR, is there hope for Season 2?

Whew, this went on for a while, didn’t it? Told you I had a lot to say.

As I have said, if you liked the first season of Loki and think I am completely full of shit, that’s fine and it’s your prerogative. More power to you.  

But, and this is a huge but, that does not give you the right to harass and bully people who did not like it.

I have witnessed horrible things from both sides of the now split Loki fandom on social media. Harassment and even death threats towards the creators. Telling people who don’t like the Loki and Sylvie relationship that they need to drink bleach. Homophobic attacks. Gatekeeping.  

There’s constructive criticism and sharing your opinions, and then there is...this.

Both sides need to chill.

Anyway.

Even though Kate Herron has left the show, Michael Waldron is still the showrunner and as such I am not altogether optimistic for Season 2. I would like to see more emphasis on Loki himself for that season. Yes, it’s a novel thought, wanting a show that is called Loki to actually be about Loki, but here we are.

I would like to see actual character development in Loki rather than the old “true love transforms bad boy and conquers all” trope. There is a reason Disney has started to abandon that trope in their animated movies. They’ve been getting dragged about it for decades.

If Sylvie must return, there needs to be some actual consistency surrounding her character. The show needs to decide if she is a Loki or not and stick with whichever one they decide. And seriously, no more romance. Frankly, after what she pulled in Episode 6, I will be severely disappointed if the writers have Loki crawling back to her. That would make him pathetic, and Loki deserves better.

Really, Loki does not need a romance, period. He’s too emotionally immature, he has a lot of character growth to go through, and a romance would do nothing but be a distraction and an impediment to that growth. Anyone who got married too young can confirm that it is important to learn more about yourself and figure yourself out before you even think of getting involved with another person, who should not be your whole world. The Loki and Sylvie romance was reminding me of Classic Disney in another not-good way in that the two of them, especially on Loki’s side, were starting to revolve around one another and that does not make for a healthy relationship. Again, turning Loki into a Disney Prince (or, seeing as how he’s supposed to be genderfluid, Princess). Stop it.

Again, the romance was a smokescreen. It was a distraction from just how thin the plot was. Please, for the love of G-d, give more focus to the actual plot.

Do some research and talk to some psychologists for healthy ways Loki can “learn self-love" and develop as a character. If Ragnarok Loki can do it without relying on a romance with a variant with himself, then surely TVA Loki can pull it off.

Speaking of talking to people, listen to the concerns of the trans and genderfluid fans. Listen, talk to them, maybe get a couple in the writer’s room. CIS people should not write genderfluid people, and this season is a good example of why.

Please remember that Loki is not an idiot. Yes, he has pulled some fast ones and hasn’t been the greatest planner, but he is not downright stupid like he was in season 1.

And...really that’s all I have. As I have said, this thesis really wasn’t about making suggestions to the creators because I seriously doubt they will ever even see this. This was more less me screaming into the void, venting because I was that upset about what I saw as character assassination happening to one of my favorite characters. Keeping all of this in was proving to be bad for my blood pressure.  

I am attached to the character, have been for years. Loki is just one character in the MCU who I love, who I want to see done right. I had been looking forward to his solo series for a very long time, and the disappointment I felt was something that I just couldn’t keep in. I kept my mouth shut when they killed off Tony Stark for no reason other than that Ronnie Downey, Jr. didn't want to renew his contract. I didn’t say anything at the Russo Brothers’ “happy ending” for Steve Rogers, even though I feel it made no sense and is a massive plot hole.  

What they did to Loki, however...I couldn’t keep silent.

[forgedroyalseal]

Why would they be jealous?

Will over hears some rangers talking about him in a less than flattering way at a gathering. Gilan takes care of it like the good big brother he is. Takes place at the gathering at the beginning of book 8

Trigger Warning: vague suggestions of rape/non-con. Nothing happens.

Jealousy is the tribute mediocrity pays to genius

Fulton J. Sheen

Will was not accustom to people being jealous of him. He was an orphan, left at the ward as an infant. Growing up he was alway the smallest, and despite the comforting words of his caretakers, he did not hit a growth spurt at 10, or 12, not even at 15. Will was denied a knights apprenticeship. Halt had chosen him as a ranger’s apprentice, something he would learn to realize is exactly what he was destined to do, but most people were wary of rangers. The simple commoners believed them to be evil sorcerers, who had dark and dangerous otherworldly abilities. Those who were better educated might not believe the folk tales surrounding rangers, but they still crossed the road if they saw a ranger approaching. Ranger’s keep to themselves, mystic was a cloak just as useful as the gray and green one they wear, and their mysterious tendencies made them a target for speculation. Rumors and hearsay surrounded them, ensuring that practically no one wants the title of “Ranger”. And those who do often found themselves either as a ranger, or being hunted by one. So it wasn’t until Will was well into his apprenticeship that he would even be noticed enough for someone to envy him, and at that point, he was too occupied with his apprenticeship to notice when young boys would stare at him as he passed, or the way young men would puff out their chests and give him a look that said, what is so special about him? I could do what he does. It wasn’t until Will had graduated that he had to deal with the ugliness of jealousy being aimed towards himself.

Will knows that it isn’t fair to eavesdrop on his fellow Rangers. It’s just that Will was so accustomed to moving silently in the shadows, that sometimes he forgot to turn it off, and he didn’t intend to overhear the conversation of the group of four rangers who were sitting around a fire. He was just passing by when he heard his name mentioned. And while Will had a lot of self control, no one has enough to pass by a conversation that seem to be about themselves.

“What do you think of Halt’s boy, Treaty?” One of the men, Ranger Donovan, asked the group.

“That boy has grown too full of himself. He thinks he’s something special. The only special thing about him is that he managed to get Halt to take pity on him.” Ranger Hawthorn barked.

The other men grumbled in agreement. Ranger Lee cleared his throat to speak, and Will hoped that he might stand up for him, or at the very least change the conversation. Will and Lee had gotten along well during this gathering. They often ate at the same table and Lee had even asked Will to watch his apprentice during an archery practice and give the boy some advice. Will’s hope drowned though when he heard what Lee had to say.

“He acts all high and mighty, consulting with Halt and Crowley as if he were on the same level they are. I’ve been a ranger longer than that boy has known how to walk, and yet he is they one they have assessing the apprentices, he is the one they send off on important assignments.” Lee spits at the ground and scoffs.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say there is a reason that Treaty is getting special treatment.” Donovan said.

“What kind of reason?” Ranger Ben asked. Ben was the youngest of the group, he was probably only a few years older than Will, and had stayed silent up until now. He wasn’t accustomed to rangers talking so negatively of each other.

Donovan ignores Ben, instead turning his attention to Lee and Hawthorn, “Halt and Treaty are very close. Closer than any of us have ever been with our apprentices. Maybe Halt found a skinny orphan that no body cared about and groomed him into-”

Will’s stomach was rolling and he put his hands over his ears. He knew that if anyone saw him he would look very childish, hunched over, trying to block about the voices by the fire, but he didn’t care. He was disgusted at Donovan’s implications and simultaneously wanted to run far away and show all of them exactly how skill he was with his bow. Before he could do either, he heard a familiar voice.

“If you would like to keep the ability to speak, you will shut up right now.”

Will looked back over to where the men were gathered around the fire. But this time there was a fifth figure standing next to them. Gilan. Will sighed a breath of relief. Then a deep blush rose on his cheeks, Gilan had apparently heard what Donovan had been suggesting.

“I don’t know what why you think you have the right to imply such repulsive things, but let me make one thing perfectly clear. Halt would never take advantage of a child in his care. And if I ever hear any of you say otherwise, I will personally make sure that you are removed from the corps.” Gilan’s voice was low and measured, it sounded as though he was holding back the flood gates.

Ben looked terrified and Gilan found it hard to believe that Ben had much to do with any of this. The ranger was quiet and polite, his biggest flaw was his need to be accepted. Which is most likely why he remained in the company of the older rangers when the conversation took a nasty turn. Lee and Hawthorn had the decency to look at least somewhat ashamed, Donovan however, look furious. He stood and stepped toward Gilan. Gilan was taller (he was taller than all of the rangers in the corps), but Donovan was thick with muscle and probably had nearly 40 pounds on Gilan. Will knew that Gilan could handle himself, but his hand still instinctively floated down to the hilt of his throwing knife. Just in case.

“Why do you care what we say about Treaty?” Donovan said.

Gilan leaned closer to Donovan ever so slightly. “He is my brother, that’s why.” Then Gilan turned and left. Will also took his leave, nothing good would come from remaining where he was.

The conversation between Donovan, Lee, and Hawthorn had infuriated Gilan. When he first left the men he wanted to go straight to Crowley. Crowley was almost as defensive of Will as Gilan was. They both saw greatness in Will that he couldn’t see in himself. And since Will was practically Halt’s son, that made Gilan and Crowley his protective big brother and uncle. He had actually made it to the front of Crowley tent before stopping himself. Gilan figured it would be best to check in with Will before he involved Crowley. If anyone had said or done anything to Will, Gilan knew that he wouldn’t say anything. He would just try to sweep it under the rug and move on. He wasn’t one to draw attention to himself or cause a stir. Gilan, on the other hand, had zero qualms with making a scene if it meant justice would be delivered. And justice was necessary. Rangers should be united, and rumors such as the ones Donovan was spewing were dangerous.

Gilan didn’t see Will until dinner that night. He had looked for him, but if the young ranger didn’t want to be found, he made sure that he wasn’t. By the time Gilan had entered the dining tent, Will was already seated at a table alone, moving his food around his plate, but never bringing his fork to his mouth. Gilan felt something in his stomach sink. Something was wrong. Will never sat alone during meals at the gathering. In fact, just yesterday Will had said to Gilan that he was almost never alone during any part of the gathering. He was always followed by young apprentices with stars in their eyes, or by those who wanted to see what kind of ranger Halt’s small, wide eyed apprentice had turned out to be. So seeing Will alone, in a dark corner of the tent was unusual and alarming. Passing by the line to get a plate of food, Gilan made his way across the room to Will.

“Will-” Gilan started as he took a seat on the other side of the table, but he was cut off before he could finish.

“I was there. I was passing by in the woods when I heard them. I should have just keep on walking. I shouldn’t have listened. But I did.” Will’s voice knocked Gilan off guard for a moment. It was so small and lonely, it made Gilan remember just how young Will really was.

“You need to know that Donovan and the others are just jealous Will. They’re words don’t mean anything.”

“Jealous? Jealous of what Gil? Of an oraphan boy that no one wanted? Or of a druggie slave would had to be rescued by the crown princess? Maybe they are jealous of the ranger who can’t stand his assignment because he hates being alone? Yeah, there is a lot to be jealous of.” Will scoffed.

Gilan sighed, he hadn’t realize that Will was this blind to what everyone else saw in him. “No Will. They are jealous of your natural abilities. They are jealous of what a genuinely good man you are. They know that you will become the best ranger the corps have ever seen.”

Will rolls his eyes but Gilan continues, “Will, men like that know that no matter how hard they work, or train, no matter how much experience they have, they will never be what you are. They will never be remarkable Will. And they don’t know how to accept that. So they try to find fault in you when there isn’t any.”

“But I’m not remarkable Gil. I’m not anything special.”

“Yes you are Will. You may not realize it today. You may never see it, but everyone else around you can. And unfortunately that makes you a target. But you cannot let them get in your head. Just keep being you Will. That is all you need to do.”

The two rangers sat in silence for a while. Gilan knew that Will had to process everything he had just said, and there wasn’t any point in trying to bring up discussing the matter with Crowley until Will was ready.

“Please don’t tell Halt about any of this.” Will said, breaking the silence.

“Will, he won’t think any less of you.”

“I know. I just don’t want this to get out to everyone. And I don’t want Halt to know what Donovan said about him.”

Gilan thought about it. He should tell Halt. Gilan knew that his former mentor would lose it if he heard about what happened, and Gilan wanted a front row seat to the confrontation that would end with Donovan, Lee, and Hawthorn bleeding on the ground, or swimming in a moat, or both. But Will had a right to want to control the matter. The implications that they made were revolting, and they would hurt Halt, even if he acted like they didn’t. And Will had a valid point about not wanting others to find out about what was said. If Halt went ballistic on the men it was only a matter of time before word got around about what had been said about Halt and Will.

“Fine, we won’t tell Halt. But we do need to tell Crowley.”

Will began to protest, but Gilan put his hand up to stop him.

“You may not be Halt’s apprentice anymore, but Crowley is our Commandant, he needs to know what is going on. We will tell him together, and we will ask him to keep it to himself. I’m not negotiating on this Will. Crowley needs to know.”

“Crowley needs to know what?”

Both rangers turn to see the man in question standing by their table. Will turned his attention back to Gilan.

Gilan nods, “Go ahead Will. Tell him. It’s just us.”

And Will tells Crowley everything.