#And this isn’t even it all but it’s like my three shrines

[wosoamazing]

Against All Odds

Summary: You find yourself with a career ending injury, but Beth and Viv, your guardians and Leah are there for you. Based on this request.

Warnings: Death (mentions of fact Rs parents are dead), allusions to cancer, very bad knee injury, hospitals, paramedics, passing out, one section contains talks of Leah’s endometriosis, a bit sad -> Let me know if there is anything else.

A/N: I really liked this when I first wrote it, but I don't know anymore, maybe just because I hate editing so I was projecting my feelings about editing onto my fic. But anyway I hope you like it.

You were part of the AWFC and the Lionesses, however football wasn’t the only sport you played in at a professional level, you were also a Track and Field athlete, you were a youth world champion, but not many people knew, the Soccer seemed to outshine the Athletics, so no one found out. It was getting close to the stage of having a discussion with the British Olympic Association about whether you were going to do both Football and Athletics at the olympics or whether you could only do one, and if you could only do one whether you got to make the choice or if they did. But that conversation was no longer needed. Team GB wasn’t going to be at the Olympics for Women’s Football so you only had one choice, and that was Athletics, however there wasn't really the question of whether you would qualify or not. It was a certainty now that you were going to the Olympics, considering the fact you were running sub 10.6 for 100 metres. You actually qualified for the 2020 Olympics but you were only 13, so it was decided you weren't going, even though you were faster than some of the athletes you were just too young.

You were one stride away from the finish line, you had done it, shown that even despite your age you deserved to be at the olympics, that last stride would cause you to have run sub 10.7 at the qualifiers, which was a good time, since you hadn’t trained in 6 months, due to the World Cup and England Olympic qualifiers. However that last stride went wrong, you still made it across the finish line, but something went badly wrong, a shooting tearing splitting pain went through your knee as your body collapsed onto the ground, tears were streaming out of your eyes, your surrounds were a haze, heaps and heaps of bright yellow people surround you, they were paramedics you think, they were asking you questions, but it hurt too much to process anything. Your brain was also preoccupied with the fact that you would most likely not be going to the Olympics this year, or maybe even never. You weren't dumb, you couldn't actually process what the paramedics were saying, nor had you seen your knee, but there was no way this was a simple injury, your knee felt like it had exploded, a bomb had gone off, this was a big injury, if the pain causing you to be on the verge of passing out wasn't enough to tell you this, the immediate arrival of like 10 paramedics was definitely enough to tell you something really bad had happened. Your world was literally crumbling around you, you needed football and track, you didn’t want to face the fact that you might never get to be a pro again. You thought you heard someone say something about moving you onto a stretcher and to the ambulance before you passed out.

_____

“Viv, has she sent you a message? She isn’t replying to any of mine, she should be here by now.”

“Maybe it's just run over time and so she is still racing.” Viv replied, trying to comfort Beth.

Beth and Viv were two of the three teammates who knew about your athletics. You couldn't really keep it from them, considering you did live with them, the trophies, the photos, the ‘shrines’ you had. Leah also knew, as you went to the same school and due to the schools sport buddy system she was your sport buddy, you messaged her almost daily since you were 10 and looked up to her so much, she was an inspiration to you. However, Leah never realised how much you actually did idolise her until she saw said ‘shrines’ when she came into your room the day you were setting it up, to give you a present. She looked around the room, above your desk she saw your Mum’s last olympic Jersey framed, with photos of you and her at the track surrounding it in a heart shape. There was also a single photo in the middle of the heart of you and her, you were holding a massive trophy and a huge grin was plastered on your face, but she couldn't help but notice how weak your Mum looked she was in a wheelchair, then it clicked that was the last time your Mum saw you run. You had just won your first junior athletics championships, in that photo, it was a week before your Mum died. Leah knew that because you told her one day, when she asked you which sport you would choose, you said you would forever do both. She then saw the photo from your Dad’s military honour funeral, along with his cap hung next to it, above your dresser which was placed just next to your desk, another heart surrounded it, but this time it was photos of him and his platoon wearing their Y/L/N bibs watching your races at the championships while they were deployed, a photo of him in rehab, kicking a ball to you after he lost his leg and was learning how to use to prosthetic one so he could go back to duty, the photo of your Dad’s platoon surprising you at on of your competitions just after you Dad had died on duty was also there. Between the two hearts was a family of the three of you, you were only small, it hurt her to think that was most likely one of the last family photos you had, you were just so young. She then turned to see what the third ‘shrine’ you were in the middle of making was. She saw you placing framed letters, certificates, medals, and photos in a heart shape around yet another item and photo of someone who helped you massively and inspired you, expect this time she felt her heart grow warm, it was her england debut shirt, she had signed and gifted to you, along with a photo of you mid jump into her arms, after the 2020 Euros Final, celebrating her win with her. You saw your so called shrines your three lifes, your Athletics life which was inspired by your Mum, your everyday life which you attributed to your Dad, and your Football life which was inspired by Leah.

There was also another reason Beth and Viv knew about the athletics and that was because you had no other family, and someone had to sign permission slips, and when you moved in with Beth and Viv and they become your legal guardians according to the state, meaning that they were the ones now required to sign permission slips, so they knew everything.

—

“Viv, I’m going to go call her,” “Okay,” Viv said as she saw Leah walking towards her.

“How did she go?” Leah asked Viv, “We don’t know she hasn't replied to us.” Viv said as Beth started walking back over.

“She wont answer,” “Shit” the next three minutes Beth and Viv continuously called you.

“Beth we need to go now,” “What why,” “She got hurt badly, she is in surgery currently,” “Why didn’t they call us, to get consent for surgery. Shit, it's bad, let's go.”

They rushed off from training, and drove as fast as possible to the hospital. Leah stayed to inform Jonas and finish training before she quickly found herself, driving to the hospital, knee bouncing, hoping you were semi okay.

_____

When you woke up from surgery Beth and Viv were either side of you, holding your hands in theirs. A doctor walked in shortly after you woke up, to update you on your condition.

“Split Patella. Torn MCL and meniscus, partially torn LCL. Patella ligament was torn slightly in half vertically due to the separation of the Patella. Pins in the patella, sutures in the LCL and Patella ligament, meniscus was cleaned and sutured. In the end we went with a graft to fix the MCL in hopes to have a better recovery. No one actually can figure out how it happened, but it’s lucky your didn't tear your ACL or PCL.”

“Yeah but everything else is torn or split, would prefer just an ACL”

“Sorry about that, she comes with a bit of an attitude,” Beth said, as Viv glared at you, you just glared back, you were right after all, he was making it seem like nothing, when literally everything was stuffed.

He just dismissed it and continued “You’ll be lucky to walk normally again, let alone run or play football again. And even if you do somehow ever get back to running or playing football it will never be anywhere near the professional level.”

“I want a new doctor please,” You said to him blankly

“Hey, that's not very nice” “Yeah well I’ve seen what happens when doctors don’t have hope. I don’t want this halfwit in charge of my recovery, if it was up to him he would probably just put me in a wheelchair and be done with it. People come back from injuries that seem impossible to come back from. People lose limbs and still go back to war, it’s not impossible, as long as you’re not lazy. Just someone get me a new doctor. And you can go, I can’t believe you even got to operate on me.” He scoffed and walked out. You were fuming, your breath increased, your face turned into game mode and your nostrils started to flare, Beth and Viv knew that had to do something, so they tried to comfort you.

“Hey it's okay” Beth said as she rubbed her thumb on the back of the hand she was holding. You turned to her and glared at her before yelling at her. “No its fucking not, this isn’t okay, nothing about this is okay or fair or fine. Just leave, I want to be alone.” They both slightly jumped before quickly getting up and leaving. You felt your response was a bit harsh, but it was nothing compared to how you were actually feeling in this moment.

After 5 minutes the door slid open and a body slinked into the room, and sat on a chair near the end of your bed. It was Leah. She just smiled at you before she looked down at her phone. You felt a small tear roll down your cheek, the first one since your surgery, you quickly wiped it away and sniffled, however that caught the attention of Leah, and soon your single tear turned into more tears. She didn’t say anything, you didn't know if that was because she didn't know what to say, or if it was because she knew nothing she said would help. She did however get up out of her seat and walk towards your bed. You tried to shuffle over but your leg was holding you in place, you looked at her longingly. She looked at your knee and back to you, checking if thats what was the problem, you nodded. So she ever so carefully shifted your leg as you moved and then climbed onto the bed. You immediately moved closer to her, so that you were almost on top of her, and just melted into her comfort, as she held you tight.

After a while Beth and Viv walked in. “I’m sorry” you mumbled, feeling bad for pushing them away.

“It’s okay, you’re in a lot of pain both physically and emotionally, but we want you to know we are going to be here for you every step of the way. Okay.” you nodded, Viv sat down in the chair and beth sat down in her lap.

_____

When the fourth new doctor of the day entered the room, you jumped the gun, speaking before he could speak. “If you’re going to tell me I’m never going to play again or if you are a phycologist or some shit you can go, I don't want to hear it. Untill this hospital can find me someone who isnt a fucking sissy I won’t talk to any of you, and if they cant I’ll go somewhere else, another country if I have to.”

He sat down on the ‘doctor’ stool before wheeling himself on the chair closer to your bed, he leant forward slightly, and looked you directly in the eyes before he started speaking. “Well, I’m here to tell you that my team and I can get you back to playing pro. I’m not going to lie, its not going to be easy, its going to be fucking hard, harder than anything that has ever happened to you, everything combined. But we have done some research on you and had some conversations to people and we believe you can do this, we believe you are the right type of person, that you have the right support system and most of all have the determination, to not only now prove that dumb doctor wrong, but to show the universe that you won't break, nothing they throw at you, will cause you to break. So what do you say?”

You nodded slowly, looking at him before looking at Beth and Viv, almost seeking permission or maybe just reassurance, they both smiled and nodded at you, Leah squeezed your upper arm with the hand she had wrapped around your shoulders. You turn back to the doctor.

“I think like you,” “so is that a yes” “yes”

_____

He wasnt wrong, this was fucking hard, you were in agony, your face was scrunched up as tears streamed down from the first minute of rehab. You were told that you could stop if you needed to, but you weren't going to, you wanted to keep going, you needed to keep going, you needed to get back to playing.

Beth had been watching your first intensive rehab session from the window along with Viv and Leah. 10 minutes into the session she couldn't bear to watch, she walked away from the window before she broke down, she couldn't bear to see you in such agony. She was second guessing her choices, maybe you were pushing yourself too far, maybe they shouldn’t have signed the consent forms, after all you were only 15. Viv and Leah followed her, Viv wrapped her arms around her and tried to comfort her. 

“Maybe we take away the consent forms, she shouldn't be doing this.” Beth said, as she started to calm down slightly.

“No you fucking wont. She needs this, you may not entirely understand but she does, this is her absolute world. You don't get it.” Leah snapped back at her.

“Oh. So I don't understand what it's like to have a serious injury that takes you away from the thing you like doing, and I don't understand what it's like to lose a parent.”

“That's not what I mean Beth, and you know that.”

“Oh so what do you mean then.” Beth replied snarkily.

“You don’t understand the uncertainty of whether you will get to play or not, you knew you were going to come back, she doesn’t, she won't ever know until she gets there. You don't get what it means to know you are going to miss out on something that is 100% a given, well something that was 100% a given. She said to me when she was 10, that she was going to win an olympic record for her Mum, and that is something that was almost guaranteed to happen this year, she was going to become the youngest person to hold an 100 metre olympic record for her Mum and now she might never win an olympic record let alone go to an olympics. I was going to captain my country in a world cup that we had a very good chance at winning and that was taken away from me, that certainty, the thing that shows who we are and what we have strove for just gets taken away from us. And yes you did miss out on the world cup too beth, but this is different. Your injury meant something different with your Mum too. Your injury gave you time with your Mum. Her injury is taking her away from her Mum.”

Beth just nodded at Leah, not knowing what to reply, Leah was right, but it didn't make seeing you like that any better. Leah walked away and opened the door, joining you in rehab, she sat on the side of your good leg, speaking encouraging words to you the whole. Which admittedly did help.

_____

Beth and Viv came to some of your rehab sessions, but they struggled watching, they couldn't deal with they were the reason you were in pain, it's what you wanted to do, but if they didn't sign the consent forms you wouldn't be in this much pain, but they knew deep down this is what was best.

Leah was there for you every rehab session she could be, she was in a different position, she understood how Beth and Viv felt and would feel the same if she was in that position, but she wasn’t. She felt differently about this because she was in that position and so she was determined to be your constant through this. She was so insistent on that, that when she had an endo flare-up really bad you had to instruct her to stay home, she tried using the excuse that because you were in pain and still doing rehab she should too, you told her that was dumb, and you had to be in pain to get better, she needed to rest to get better. The main reason was that the past few days you had started working on walking without assistance, and if you passed the tests today you would be able to, well more like strongly encouraged too, walk without assistance in small intervals, it would only be max 30 mins a day in total currently but it was something. But you didn't want Leah to know this. You wanted to surprise everyone.

You did exactly that in their next training session.

“Are you sure about this?” Viv asked you concerned

“Yes, are they all in there?” you replied.

“Yeah Jonas said we had a meeting to be there by 8:10, we messaged and said sorry we will be 5 minutes late.” Beth replied and you nodded

You crutched your way into the centre and gave Viv your crutches just as you neared the dining room entrance, Beth went ahead of you as you walked, albeit very slowly, behind her into the dining room. All heads turned to you, no one expected you to be there, you hadn’t had a day off from rehab since you started, and as you were doing external rehab you hadn’t seen much of the girls.

“Oh we thought you were Jonas, do you know where he is?” Kim asked.

“Yeah he is just behind u-” “Wait Viv, why are you holding crutches that are definitely not your size” Steph asked.

“Holy fuck kid, you’re walking,” Katie said when she finally realised that you were walking, once everyone realised that you got your crutches back from Viv, standing without your crutches was painful, everyone came up and hugged you and congratulated you, except for one person, the one person that you really wanted to surprise. You continued looking around the room thinking you just missed her or something but your search was interrupted by a hand on your shoulder, “She isn't in here kid, she is with the medics. I can take you to visit her if you want.” Lia whispered in your ear, you nodded your head.

“Beth, Viv, I’m just going to take Y/N/N to see Leah,” Lia told them, they nodded their heads.

“Leah, I have someone who would like to see you,” Leah chimed through the door, 

“What Lia, you can't say that about yourself,” “No, it's not me who would like to see you, it’s someone else” and with that Lia opened the door for you and you walked into the room cautiously, Lia followed behind you holding your crutches.

“OMG Y/N/N you're walking” you just grinned and nodded at her, she went to reach out to you for a hug but before she could she winced in pain and retracted into a ball. 

“Le, I think you need to go home, I told you, you shouldn’t have come today,” Lia said as she walked to her side, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

“Can Y/N come?” Leah asked timidly, “I’ll check with Beth and Viv first but yes.” Both you and Leah perked up at that

–

You entered the house a while after Lia and Leah, considering you had to get up the stairs which wasn’t the easiest task to do with crutches, but you managed it. You walked into the living room, and saw a photo, a photo you had hanging on your wall, it was bigger on this wall though, and sat next to what you could only assume was Leah’s Euro Final Jersey framed and her medal. You thought that it was sweet she had hung that photo of you up. You decided to sit on the couch and wait for Lia or Leah to come back out and talk to you, however you quickly fell asleep. You had basically been sleeping, eating or rehabbing since your injury so it wasnt out of the ordinary. Lia came out to check on you but found you asleep, so she decided to leave you asleep.

_____

You were lying in your bed, when Beth and Viv returned from their game, you were now getting a day off rehab every week, to slightly allow your body to rest. You had begged your rehab team to let you go to the game, but they said no, but they did mention maybe next week, so you were determined for that to happen. But currently you were in your bed tearing up at the thought of playing football, you were so determined to just get back you had forgotten about why you wanted to get back to it so much, the family feeling, the feeling once you scored a goal, the feeling of winning with some of the closest people in your life, the feeling of being free, having nothing else on your mind other than the game. You were in sobs by the time Beth and Viv had opened your door.

“Oh Baby, what’s wrong?” Beth asked as she went to sit beside you on the bed. 

“I-I’m s-so-sorry,” you cried out, Beth pulled you into her side, wrapping her arms around you, you buried your head in her chest. Viv walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed in next to you, before she started to rub your back.

“There is nothing to be sorry about, it's okay to cry, what you’re going through isn’t something small, and isn’t something easy.” Beth reassured you.

“No. I’m sorry for yelling at you the first day in the hospital, and for being mean to you both when you’re just trying to help me, and that you have to look after me.”

“It’s okay, we’re here for you Kleintje, this injury hasn’t been easy and won’t be, so if you need to get mad at us sometimes that is okay. And we will always look after you, we love you, we wouldn’t want to do anything else than help you when you’re sick or injured.” Viv replied.

“But you shouldn’t have to look after me, it's not your fault I dont have parents.” Beth was surprised it took this long for the emotions of your parents not being able to look after you to hit, she felt it while she was recovering from her ACL and she didn’t have her Mum. The date also hadn’t slipped her mind for the entire day. She felt as though this conversation, this set of emotions, would be something you would prefer to have with just Beth, someone who understood in what you felt, she was older so it was easier on her in some way, but it doesn't make it hurt any less, it just meant she understood what was happening to her Mum where you didn’t. She looked up to Viv, and gave her a soft, sad, warm smile. Viv picked up on what Beth was silently communicating. Beth had a small tear roll down her face before she looked up at the roof, Viv wiped the tear away and kissed her quickly before she got up and headed to the door.

“I’m just going to have a shower, let me know if you need anything.” Viv said, she really didn;t want to leave you two but knew she needed to.

“Thank you,” you mumbled before she shut the door, she knew that it wasn't just for helping you, but for leaving, even though it went against everything in her being.

“I-I’m sorry,” “It’s okay Vivy understands. Can you sit up for me quickly?” You did as Beth said, she sat more upright resting her back against the pillows on the headboard, before pulling you onto her lap, you sat parallel to the headboard leaning your side into her, resting your head against her shoulder. You pulled your good leg into a ball, trying to feel safe. Beth wrapped her arms around you tightly, and started slightly rocking side to side. She kissed your forehead before she started talking again. 

“Y/N, it's okay to be upset, every date is just as important as the other. Today means something, every date means something. Today marks the start, and that’s just as important as the end.”

“It’s hard Beth.”

“I know it is, but you’ve got this, I’m here with you, I’m here for you, I understand, you never have to explain anything to me, I get it, but just know that she loves you, and she would be incredibly proud of you.” You felt a drop of water hit your shoulder, Beth was crying now too.

“I-I love y-you, th-thank you.” She nodded, you knew she wouldn’t be able to talk, you were struggling to talk, your tears choking back your words. She unwrapped the arm that was in front of you and you saw her moving her hand towards yours, you quickly grabbed it and held onto it tightly. You sat there soaking up Beth’s comfort, and slowly drifted off to sleep.

_____

Commonwealth Games 2026

“We’re here trackside with Y/F/N Y/L/N who at just 17 years old has broken 4 records today, 3 officially and one unofficially. She has just finished her first competitive 100m back since her career ending injury, with an absolutely insane time of 10.45. Giving her a second gold medal of the day.”

“An absolute masterclass out there Y/N/N, how do you feel?”

“Honestly amazing. On a high. I-I can’t believe it. Let alone find the words to express it” you said puffing.

“How’s the knee feeling? Recovery mustn’t have been easy.”

“Yeah no, the knee is feeling great, recovery was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, but I had some fantastic people surrounding me and helping me and guiding me through it all. And I just wanted to give a massive thank you to Tim and his team. Without their belief, fantastic skill set and unbelievable knowledge I probably wouldn't even be here competing today, let alone standing here with a gold medal. But also to all my teammates, and to my parents who made me who I am, I love you both.”

[weepingtalecowboy]

Shadow is a fucking menace of massive destruction

Fanfic prompt: The chain is telling eachother about their adventures and at some point they got to the point of dark or shadow links

And while everyone is considering their shadow or dark links the most dangerous

Four just one ups them all because shadow is a menace to society and genuinely insane

Like “my shadow link destroyed all of Hyrule in like a day or two ,a week at most he kidnapped my Zelda and forced me to remove a sword that was sealing one of my villains and essentially made me fight three villains at once him included and that isn’t even the worst of it”

The chain *thinking* : “how are you still alive with such a monstrosity running rampant”

Four continuing without noticing anyone being disturbed: “ he stole even more maidens from their shrines and burned down almost every single village and town he was also scaring the novice soldiers and possessed my dad while THE ARMY WAS TURNED against me because he impersonated me and racked up a high enough destruction count for my immediate execution not forgetting the fact that most of them were already under mind control”

The chain : “how did you kill somebody like him”

Four: “I gaslit him because he luckily had one weakness I could exploit pretending to be evil and all that stuff so when I killed him

he didn’t get the message and was still terrorizing me but now he was upset and not just sadistic so he tied me to a stake and set it on fire”

The chain *internally* : “WTF WTF WTF WTF how is he not dead”

Four still talking: “I somehow miraculously got saved and the only reason why I won was because he destroyed his one weak point and thereby helped me defeat the other villain and both died but he still didn’t accept that so he came back to life AGAIN (ignoring to tell that it was me who brought him back)

Four : “we decided to give up on fighting and now he stays with us because he is the most difficult to kill creature in the whole entire world and that way me and Zelda can keep an eye on him”

The chain: “man and we thought our darks were bad yours sounds like a nightmare”

Four realizing something: “I forgot to tell you about his massive bombs ,his dragons and his hammer strong enough to give me a concussion from several feet again”

The chain: “THERE IS MORE…!!,!?!.!.!!.?!

Warriors * hesitant* : “Cia probably still could be worse right…?”

Four : “maybe but he also was always in my personal space and I couldn’t tell him to get the fuck away from me because I had to befriend him pretty sure the only reason he isn’t the second coming of Cia is because he wasn’t interested in a sexual relationship”

The chain: “how is your dark side capable of one upping over four of our most vile and evil enemies without even trying”

Four : “pretty sure it’s the purple hair … that is a clear sign of evil”

[sugusatosluut]

“The last concubine”

Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader

MDNI✨

Slight smut, implied breeding, sukuna realizes he won’t need to take anymore women because you, are in fact the perfect woman for him and the last concubine he will ever take.

When sukuna took you under Gojo’s nose, it wasn’t out of malice. Sukuna always threatened Gojo with the very promise of using and abusing you, making you his temporary concubine until he was done with you. It scared you twice as much as it did Satoru. From the first time Ryomen sukuna laid eyes on you, he knew he needed to have you. He wanted to see for himself why Satoru Gojo was so afraid of you being taken from him. He did just that. During a special grade mission, Satoru got distracted. That’s when you were taken.

Sukuna held you captive. For days you did everything he asked with no hesitation. You were horrified of him. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, eventually, you’d given up hope that your sorcerer friends were even looking for you anymore. It had been two months.

“Concubine.” Sukuna’s raspy voice summoned you.

You knealt on both knees in front of him.

“For two months I’ve held you captive, you’re like a little rabbit. What’s your fear? Is it me?” He asked curiously.

“Y-yes.. Also my name isn’t concubine, you can call me y/n.” You instantly regretted correcting him.

He leaned forward and you let him touch you for once. He stroked the side of your face, played around with your hair and touched your soft skin. He lifted up some of your hair to reveal a scar over your eye. This was the first time you let sukuna touch you. Every fearful response made him hesitant, but he needed to see your whole face. Deep down he was shocked that you finally let him touch your delicate skin. Were you ever this way with Satoru Gojo? He would see to it that eventually, you’d be comfortable with him. He took advantage of the situation, gently pulling you into his body, all four arms gently holding you. This felt… nice. He wasn’t sure where this came from, but he knew from seeing you the first time that he needed you, he needed to be the one to love you even if you hated him.

“You’re right, no need for titles between us beloved.” He smirked.

Over the course of the next month you’d finally given into sukuna’s affections, you even reciprocated them. You were always hesitant though until one night when you made a deal with him. If he could go the whole day without mistakenly calling you concubine, you’d let him fuck you in his shrine. Sukuna never missed a beat, he called you by your name whenever he needed something, you let him kiss you and touch you, then eventually the end of the day came and you rode him on his throne. This wasn’t enough for him, he needed more of you. He used your body everyday, most of the time he’d make sure you finished first, then would finish inside you. This went on for a month.

Tonight though, you lied down next to him after a night of rough stuff that you had agreed on, he filled you up three times, your stomach feeling the intensity. After taking a minute to recover, you then tried to roll out of bed. Sukuna’s arm grabbed you in protest to this.

“I don’t see why you can’t stay.. I think I’m okay with that. From now on you stay next to me.” He said pulling you closer. Sukuna was never the cuddling type as far as you knew.. but now you started to question what you knew.

“ s’kuna.. you’re going to replace me soon aren’t you?” You asked looking at the covers as you touched them softly.

Sukuna took a deep breath.

“For now, I will not. You’ve peaked my interest. Such a small obedient thing, and to let me deep inside of you, to let me fill you with all my passion and glory—it makes you a fine concubine.” He sort of complimented you.

You awoke and cleaned yourself off. Sukuna offered to fufill your needs today. He had a sense of some sort. You felt sick and he wanted to help. You told him you’d be right back, that you needed to run to the store to get some medicine. While at the store you picked up a pregnancy test and made it back home quickly locking yourself in the bathroom. From there it took a while to read the stick. You are pregnant. You’re holding Sukuna’s heir in your belly and who knows how long you’ve been holding this inside you, for all you know the morning sickness is just the beginning part of it. You’d been feeling sick for some time but you thought it was anxiety or the after effects of sukuna being inside you so deep.. but no. This was real. As if in que, sukuna knocks on the bathroom door.

“S-s’kuna.” You mumbled as you stuck your head out the door just a crack.

“Come here, I want to feel your skin.” His raspy voice beckoned you.

You obeyed, cuddling into his side, the skin to skin contact made you feel warm but nervous.

“Sukuna, I’ve been feeling sick as you might have already known..” you start off.

“Mhmm.. maybe this might help. I’m certainly no good at things that make you feel good.. I was unwanted as a child, I know no soothing behavior other than what you’ve shown me.” He vents.

“I- I’m not sick. I mean I am— I’m just.. I’m pregnant.” You sighed.

You felt sukuna’s arm stop dragging slowly along your skin. This was it, you were going to die right here just like this.

“You’re carrying my seed?” He asked

“Yes. I took like two tests, they’re positive.. if you can’t keep me that’s fine I would rather you get it over with now than-“

“No. You’re mine, that small child growing inside you is mine. I never planned on replacing you. Cant you see? This is what I wanted with you. I wanted you to carry my heir, to be my partner. I’m a selfish bastard that’s true, but replacing you was never an option and you’d be stupid to think that I would. I have affections for you.. in some areas I’m more skilled at giving you what my primal instincts will allow. To have an heir is new to me but we shall figure this out together. I assume he’ll be a brat like you.” He gave you a small smirk of approval.

Sukuna didn’t want anyone else. It’s true, he didn’t have a plan for replacing you. You are the only thing on his mind other than the tiny cursed human forming inside your belly that the two of you made. This pregnancy made him soft. He never really showed out that much to threaten people, he stayed in the domain of you guys’ home and took good care of you and watched as your baby grew. He got what he needed and didn’t plan on changing his mind any time soon.

A/N:

Whatever this is idk, I was just bored. Based on an AI chat I had with a sukuna bot.

[siminiecricketart]

Thinking about how soldier poet king applies to Percy Jason and Nico

Nico is arguably the soldier: “The Soldier is a person who sees everything as a fight. He feels destined for violence, driven by anger, and he walks into this world of conflict, partially by his own choice” - throughout the original and HoO, Nico is seen to be a character who holds a grudge, who holds in so much anger and resentment over what happened to his sister, to the point where she begs him to forgive, to let go and move on but he struggles with this. He then also holds anger over his feelings towards Percy, that although he blames her for Bianca, he also develops feelings for him so his whole arc which causes further torment, and he is driven by anger of all the wrongdoings towards him in his life. I know peopl would be like “uhhh ghost king? It’s in the name???” But just trust me. He is the solider.

Jason is the Poet: “The Poet is a more peaceful creature who sees the beauty and poetry of the world and uses the power of words and his sensitivity as a strength that others may underestimate. However, the quiet power of his character can change the world as much as an act of war.” Jason’s whole arc was that he was trained as a perfect Roman soldier since he was a baby. It makes perfect sense that he would be placed in the solider category. But this just isn’t Jason, and we see him fight this role.. Jason isn’t prone to violence, and we can see in his character that anger doesn’t drive him. Despite how he was trained, and how he should have been, Jason is seen as more of peaceful character compared to the other two. He wants peace, he wants to right the wrongdoings done towards the minor gods and goddesses - to the point that he decided his purpose was to recreate New Rome, to build shrines to these gods and goddesses so that they can get the respect and devotion they deserved. He wanted to leave the world a better place than the one he lived.

And Percy is the king: “The King is a person who feels the burden of being the one who has to manage and take accountability for the world. Duties are inevitable for him, and he feels he must take them on his shoulder and follow what the world expects.” I don’t even think I have to say much on this. Percy has felt the burden of the prophecy from the moment he arrived at camp. He didn’t tell anyone of Nico and Bianca’s parentage, because he didn’t want Nico to have any responsibility of the prophecy - time and time again, percy has taken the burden of helping the gods, helping the world. He carries the prophecies on his shoulder, and then CHB and CJ. This, and his fatal flaw being loyalty, percy being the king, and not the soldier makes absolute sense in my mind.

I’m so bad at words but I hope my reasoning makes sense with these three and yes I will be drawing this lol

[heartbreakgrill]

Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Pt. 6, "I don't wanna share."

“Ok, I need to bring you back down to Earth for a sec, Daisy.”

An audible groan passed through my lips as I rolled my eyes, “Here we go.”

“No, listen,” Sasha poked at my bicep, which was propped up so I could hide behind my arms just a little bit, “listen, listen. You obviously need to hear this-”

“You were the one telling me that I needed to let loose! This is me- letting loose! Going with the flow. Being chill!” I sounded exasperated, which didn’t help my defensive case. I didn’t know how many times I could reiterate the same point until the words didn’t carry any meaning.

“Yeah, no, I did say that!” She gestured with her pretty pink nails, “but letting loose and being in a situationship are not the same things. In fact, I would argue that they are complete opposites.”

“And I would argue,” I looked to her, pointedly, “that they are not. That this isn’t even a situationship in the first place.”

Sasha snorted, eyes crinkling shut for a moment. Then, she remembered herself and got a little more serious. “Ok, listen,” she shook her shoulders, “do you have feelings for him?”

There was no question here. I didn’t have to think about it. I knew I had feelings for him from the moment he had kissed me in that hallway, the air conditioning humming like a taunting melody beneath our breathless sighs. Despite how quickly the confirmation fell through my lips, little flashes of memories reeled at the front of my mind.

Oliver and I in his hotel room, his gentle hands wetting a towel and carefully, like I was glass, swiping my skin clean.

Oliver and I in the shower, supple kisses on my collarbones and the back of my neck as he lathered soap through my hair.

Oliver and I on the roof, the bright lights of Paris and the faint sounds of a violin playing on the streets below us guiding our hips through a dance that felt as natural as the air that blew through my hair.

Oliver whispering my name into my ear, Oliver tucking me into his bed, Oliver throwing out his cigarettes and being one week clean. Oliver begging me to come to a show, promising to show me some of his new music if I’d just come.

Oliver telling me that if I came to the show this Friday, he’d let me sign my name across his ribcage, and paint over it with midnight black, sealing clean a secret that burned for our eyes only, barely visible beneath what looked to be the night sky on his skin.

“And does he have feelings for you?” Sasha hummed in response.

“I…don’t know. I think so…”

Oliver’s words in my memory-

“You’re so fucking pretty…pretty like a flower. I can smell the pollen in your skin. It makes my nose tingle,” His nose in my neck.

“Everytime you smile at me, I feel it, Daisy. The moment you walked out of that airport…I- just. I’m stuck in this vicious cycle, and you’ve thrown me for a loop,” his fingers on my cheeks.

“Do you dress up for Halloween? Go to any University parties? I swear, all you need is a white dress and some angel wings, and you’re set. You better send me photos if you fulfill my idea. I’d build a fucking shrine for it, for you…bring down heaven, so they can reclaim you,” his hands in my hair, tracing a halo between my temples…

“Probably.”

Sasha pursed her lips, raised her brows, as she watched me question myself, “Girl. From what you’ve told me? Hmph. Anyways…he doesn’t want to be with you-”

“Can’t,” I looked away, almost shamefully. Then, my voice was quiet, “can’t be with me.”

“Okay,” she scoffed, more or less under her breath, to help me save face. But I heard it. I rubbed my hands together slowly, as if prodding at my skin would somehow help my confidence in the situation.

Sasha took a slow sip of her coffee, only pushing me further to the edge of my seat in anticipation as she analyzed my situation more and more. Then, finally, the big question, the gut-punch, the lemon in my papercut, “Why?”

The same question I’d been asking myself for…nearly two months now? Yeah. Two months. 8 weeks. Three cities (four?) The lines were beyond blurred. I was beyond blurred, eyes bleary, head cloudy. I thought that seeing Sasha would help me clear my mind a little bit. But, she had the same thoughts I did- though hers were a little more on the offense than mine. A little more verbal than I allowed my own to be. She seemed to be clear on the fact that what Oliver was asking of me was wrong. And I didn’t agree.

It’s not like he was manipulating me or taking advantage of me. He asked for my consent just about every time he even breathed in my direction, ensuring I was okay more times than was probably necessary. Besides, I was a mature, independent, smart adult- I wouldn’t allow myself to be put in a situation that would jeopardize my well-being and mental health.

(So why did it still feel so wrong?)

I was incredibly antsy to see Sasha all summer. We’d been internet friends for nearly 10 years and had only hung out once, when she visited the states 5 years ago. Now, here I was- in her home country for a whole entire month. And, luckily, she had a little bit of free time on the weekends and evenings to entertain me. In her own words, her goal over the next month was to get me on her side, to change my point of view. I just wanted to eat some croissants and buy expensive cheese. We had very different ideas of fun.

“Why, Daisy.” A statement because she knew the answer, too, and was trying to force me to come to terms with it by vocalizing it.

“Girl, I don’t know,” I settled for humor.

Sasha blew a bubble of air from between her lips, the ends of her styled side bangs ruffling about. She crossed her eyes as she peeled a strand from her bottom pout, all stuck in her lip gloss. Meanwhile, she replied, “Get real. You have a degree in analyzing human behavior. You read people like a book after just one glance in their direction. Why? Just tell me. You know it. Why-”

“Because he has an attachment disorder. Debilitating anxiety and depression. Terrible coping mechanisms. The tendency to victimize himself intentionally for attention. And I’m feeding into it. I’m giving him what he wants. I’m catering to his insecurities by fucking babying him and treating him like glass.”

In another universe, I said all that. I confronted the issue at hand and told Oliver no when he later texted me to come over.

But, in this timeline-

I shrugged. Sasha got frustrated with the situation and moved on, to shoes or shopping or something else.

I went back to the hotel. Ate dinner with everyone.

Oliver texted me. At his beck and call, I went up to his room. A dog to a bone. A dog to a dead bird, in my teeth.

And I ignored what I knew was true for about a week. It was easy, up until that point. The way he touched- the way he silently loved me- it was all enough to hold nothing against him.

Yet, enough to despise him for everything he was putting me through.

-

“Daisy…”

His words were a whisper on the back of my neck, awakening me with a sharp inhale of breath between my lips.

I gained my bearings as my eyes flew open. My tired vision slowly adjusted to the surroundings of Oliver’s hotel room, a familiar sight, sure, but never at this time of day.

I was sent into a frenzy from the realization that it was the morning time and I was still in his room, sleeping at his side, with his arm tucked securely around my waist.

“Wha-” I sat up slightly, leaning the back of my shoulder blades against the headboard. Oliver’s arms slid over my lap, his skin cold against the edge of my stomach. “What time is it?” I looked down to him, expecting a panic to be apparent on his face.

He just smiled up at me, “Only 10.”

My eyes widened. The beat of my heart picked up its pace as I instantly thought of my brother, my empty bed in our room. He was more than awake at this time of day and probably panicked, looking for me. Soon enough, he’d come knocking on Oliver’s door and we’d be found out.

I knew this would happen. We’d been pushing our luck far too much these past few weeks, as the tour traveled from Germany to Paris. It was like being in the city of love had heightened our cravings. Oliver’s, especially, were feral. He treated me, sometimes, like a prey that needed hunting. That all-consuming affection was so filling, so much so that I forgot how unhealthy it could end up being. No matter- we were having fun. But, my brother and his friends were still somewhat of a threat. Who knows how they’d react? Who knows what it could mean for Oliver and I?

Oliver noticed my panic and sat up so he could cradle my chin in his hands, “Hey, hey, hey- love, we’re okay. Sam stopped by like an hour ago to tell me he and Ronnie were going to Versailles for the day. Said to look out for you cause you were probably traipsing around the city with Sasha.”

I took a deep, relieved breath, resulting in my shoulders to slouch just a bit. I leaned my face into Oliver’s palms more, feeling his breath fan out across my face. I liked him so much, I didn’t even care about morning breath.

“Oh, thank God,” I squeezed my eyes shut.

Oliver let out a deep chuckle before pecking my lips, “You know what that means?”

I met his gaze, eyeing his sly smile, “What does that mean?”

“We have the entire day to spend in the city. Together. Just you and I. No sneaking around in the dark or hanging out in this dingy hotel room.”

“Wait, really?” I sat up with excitement. Oliver’s hands slid off my face and he fumbled around with my hands.

He squeezed them gently, grinning as he watched the smile grow on my lips. A slow nod, “Really! We can be classic, cringey tourists! Don’t have to worry about running into your brother. Nor Cy, Adam, and Max. They’re all running some stuff at the venue. So- hurry! Get ready! We have so much time to spend and we’re wasting it in bed!”

“Oh, my God, I’m so fucking excited!” I shoved the covers off my body, standing to haphazardly tug on my clothes.

Oliver moved slowly, as he always did, just watching my buzzing body with a sweet grin. “Yeah?”

“Yes! I love spending time with you no matter where, but now we can finally be in the light of day together, like normal people! Like a nor-” I stumbled over my string of thoughts, coughing up something other than what I wanted to say, “like normal, human people!”

Like a normal couple.

That’s what I wanted to say. A Freudian slip- how silly of me!

We weren’t a couple. And what we had was anything but normal.

Oliver pretended like I didn’t choke over the letter c. Instead, he presented his own ideas for our day, “I think we should at least start with Cafe de Flore.”

My brows furrowed. My heart swelled. My stomach fluttered. I knew why it would be a good idea to start there. I knew I’d told him about it- just in passing- weeks ago, maybe even months. But, how did he know that?

“Why’s that?” I quizzed.

Oliver looked at me with an expression I can only describe as, ‘duh.’ “Because it’s gorgeous and historical and you’ve been wanting to go there all summer? We’ll grab breakfast.”

I distracted myself with verbalized, rambled lists and lists of everything we could do today. I couldn’t give into the emotions swirling all throughout my frenzied body. It would only spiral into overthought anxiety and confessions of a stupid fucking word I did not want to feel.

“Of course, we’re gonna have to walk all over the city to do all of this. I don’t wanna tire you out too much. I’ll pick, like, a section of the city and we’ll stick to it. Is that a good idea? Would that be oka-” I looked to him for approval, but he was scooping me into his arms, palms low on my waist, forehead dipping towards mine.

“I would walk a million miles for you, Daisy Hallett.”

I didn’t have time to think too much about his affectionate words before he was kissing me.

And, fuck, did he kiss me.

-

Oliver let me hold his hand.

Well, he didn’t let me hold his hand. It wasn’t some kind of permission-based ordeal.

He offered me his hand.

When he stopped by the hotel room to pick me up, I opened the door, he complimented me, leaned in for a sweet kiss, then offered up his hand.

I latched on, keeping distance between our shoulders. As we walked, though, he inched his body closer, ensuring we brushed against each other, especially as we stepped out into the crowded streets. When the sidewalks were too busy, he’d let go, only to protectively guide me through the crowds with a hand on the small of my back. The moment his hand could safely be back in mine, he’d swipe it up my spine, over my shoulder blade, down my bicep, forearm, to my fingers.

It was all so…

I was feeling lucid, for lack of a better word to articulate my feelings. I was lucid. This was a dream. Paris cast some sort of love sick spell on every single person who walked through its sparkling streets.

But, I’d latch onto any ounce of love I could get from him.

We hit the cafe first, as he promised we should. He paid, though I literally tried to shove him away from the card machine. There weren’t any tables available, of course, but there was a gorgeous park nearby, so we walked over, sat by the river Seine, and ate our breakfast.

I hadn’t seen him in such visible, bright lighting in so long. I’d nearly forgotten the way his eyes turned velvety in the sunlight. The way they glinted, the way that gold shone through the undertones. He even kept his hood down, so I was able to fully appreciate the way his brown hair had a faint reddish tint to it, the pale sparkle to his sharp jaw.

I caught myself staring at him far too often as he talked about the most casual of things. How he took Spanish in grade school, how his mom made fun of him when they had a banquet for their class because he couldn’t pronounce some of the words correctly. How he joined the school band when he was 10 and knew that all those piano lessons his grandma had forced him into would surely pay off.

Our conversations didn’t cease then, and they only became more intimate as the day rushed past. We visited museums, bookstores that were tucked away in intimate side streets. We nearly got robbed when walking past the Eiffel Tower, and I was nearly tricked into giving a stranger $500 when Oliver excused himself to find a restroom in that same area. But, his height alone cast this protective shade over me. All he ever had to do was step in front of me, shadow over whoever approached us with a pointed gaze. They’d scurry off and he’d grin down at me.

I didn’t pay for a single thing. The postcards and keychains I picked out- Oliver would shuffle me aside at the register, overpowering my average stature with his dominant one. The food we ate- he wouldn’t even let me reach for my wallet by filling my hands with his things, too. Even a dress that I picked out when we visited one of the boutiques. It was expensive, and I wasn’t even going to waste a penny on it- but he insisted. Insisted…more, like, when we were a block away, he told me to stay where I was, turned back, bought it, and swept my hand up in his in passing without another word.

Things only got better as the day passed.

He kissed me on every street, sweet, gentle, long kisses that I felt in my toes. He’d stand behind me in lines, arms wrapped around my torso, fingers splayed across my stomach. When we’d sit somewhere, he’d be practically on top of me, hand on my thigh, pulling my leg up onto his. If he had it his way, I’d probably be in his lap.

And the things he was saying to me- beyond the intimate details of his life that he was sharing…Oliver would whisper in my ear how beautiful I was, how much he loved the time we were spending together. After our light lunch, he started calling me, “My love.”

It happened so casually that I thought I’d misheard him.

He held the door of the restaurant open for me and I thanked him as I passed. I reached my hand out for his and he easily took it in his.

“Anything for my love.”

We were back in the crowds, back in the thick of Paris, with the tourists and the shouting and the traffic and noise. His words were a muffle of murmured lips to my eyes.

But I knew I’d seen the way that the ‘v’ punctured his bottom lip, white teeth sinking into pink skin.

“What did you say?” I pushed up onto my tiptoes to hear him better, dragging my eyes up his face.

Oliver had been looking around, trying to decide which direction we’d head in next. When I spoke, he started to turn his attention back to me, brows unfurrowing. “Um…huh? What?”

“What did you say?” I wiggled my fingers slightly, attempting to be playful, though I was melting on the inside.

Oliver noticed the grin rising to my lips and leaned into my affections. He wrapped his arms around my side, squeezing me tight to his chest, and rocking us about. His cheek squished against my head, muffling his words, though I heard him more clearly this time. “I said anything for my love! For my sweet, beautiful, flowering Daisy!”

My.

His.

I was his.

I was his love. He had laid ownership to me. He had spoken the words I’d begged so long to hear. He’d claimed me. Laid it all out on the table and waited for me to pick it up.

I was clutching on to it.

-

The day ended too quickly. A candlelit dinner, a singular rose prickling my fingers with it’s thorns. We watched the lights on the Eiffel Tower sparkle for far too long, entranced with each other, with the sights.

I counted down each and every second, checking the lock screen on my phone each chance I had. When the minutes added up, rolling over into each new hour, my heart would drop further into my stomach. I knew that once the sun set, once we snuck back into the hotel, this would all be over. All of the longing stares would get locked away behind his hotel room. All of his pet names and secrets he shared would end.

We’d go back to the start.

I tried to memorize every inch of every moment, each touch, gaze, kiss, even the chaste ones, when his lips grew chapped in the afternoon and I had to shove a tube of lipstick into his hands. His scent lingered on the tips of my fingers, the smell of his shampoo, and I kept my hands balled towards the end, refusing to touch almost anything. I had to keep his skin on my skin, even if all that was left there were ghosts of memories and dead cells.

It was all made worse when, in those final moments outside of the Eiffel Tower, some street photographer managed to scam us into a mini-photoshoot. Oliver began to argue with the guy, not wanting to spend nearly one hundred US dollars. Then, the photographer shoved his camera just beneath Oliver’s nose and I watched his brown, doe-y eyes light up.

He paid for exactly three photos. The man printed them quickly from his streetside contraption. Oliver wrapped an arm around me, murmured some sort of, “Let’s go.” All the while, he clutched those pictures delicately, yet to show me,

Soon, though, we were just a few feet from the front of the hotel. He slowed us, there on the sidewalk. A cool breeze shivered across my skin. He held my hand a little tighter, head dipped low as he lifted those photos from his side. I looked up at him, brows a little furrowed. I watched the corners of his lips quirk up, like he was keeping some sweet little intimate secret with just himself and the wind.

Then, Oliver held out the pictures. They were spread out, like cards, like he wanted me to pick one and see if he guessed the number correctly. I’d lie and say yes. Anything for him.

I took them. My breath caught in my throat. It was a series of moments, like a film reel, all captured within seconds, now still in this paper frame. It pictured Oliver and I from behind, watching the Eiffel Tower, his arm wrapped around my waist, my head leant on his shoulder. The next second, we turned our heads towards each other, smiling cheekily. If I squinted, I could see the looks in our eyes- smitten. Delusional. Caught-up. The shine of the tower shown across our faces like spotlights, exposing us for what we were:

In love.

The final photo was us kissing, all wrapped up like a pair of strings, tangled and entwined. My fingers became sweaty and I had to clutch the photos a little tighter. I felt sick- yet elated. Like I was being spun around a million times.

“I want that one,” Oliver spoke so quietly that I nearly didn’t hear him. Then, I felt his hand close overtop of mine, fingers gliding down the photo to gently pull it from my clutches.

I held onto the other two like an oath, trying hard not to gape up at him. He grinned, first at the photo, then to me. I needed to kiss him then and there, looking at him looking at our love. I needed to consume him, take him home with him, keep him in a shirt pocket, next to my heart, for the rest of time, long after my bones have rotted and I’m a pile of dust in a hole somewhere.

He wanted it, too- I knew it.

We leaned towards each other, lips pulled together like magnets, when our names were called from somewhere down the street.

Oliver and I snapped apart, putting nearly a small field between the tips of our toes. I hastily shoved the pictures into the bottom of my purse. Oliver tucked his photo away somewhere I didn’t see and probably wouldn’t ever.

Ronnie led the group, bounding towards us with the fervor of only someone who was somewhat tipsy. Sam tried to keep up behind her with this grin on his face that I recognized all too well. He tried to slow her down, calm her, as she nearly skipped towards Oliver and I, pushing through crowds, traffic.

Adam, Cy, and Max were at the tail of the group, following slowly, talking amongst themselves. And, Ronnie reached us a moment later.

She looped her arm through mine, leading me away from Oliver, towards the hotel, with some conversation about the bar they’d just visited. I was listening to her, but I managed to overhear Sam greet Oliver, a pat to his shoulder, a brotherly grin overwhelming Sam’s formerly lovesick one.

“Thanks for keeping an eye on her, Ollie.”

The nickname was so boyish it made my stomach flip. Sometimes I forgot he was a human being, too caught up in the emotionality of everything to ground myself in his bones and brain.

“Course, dude. She was off with Sasha most of the day. Just caught each other on my way back from the venue,” he lied so naturally. Created a false narrative within a singular breath. I tucked it into my back pocket in case someone asked about it.

I guess we needed to have our story straight, just in case someone dared to think we were anything more than acquaintances.

-

“What did you get up to yesterday?” Sasha pushed the rest of the eggs on her plate around, her stomach more than likely being full considering we just feasted on the hotel breakfast while gossiping for an hour straight. Food become like air when conversing with friends, especially girlfriends.

The question made my movements slow, for just a moment, as I reached for my glass of tea. My eyes flicked to Sasha’s, who wore an engaged smile. “Uh…just kinda walked around. Perused. Ya know- touristy shit.”

“Not too much touristy shit, I hope. That’s what today’s for!” Sasha did a little dance in her seat. She had an entire itinerary printed out in her front pocket. She was going to be taking me to all of the best spots in Paris- all of the spots I’d already been to with Oliver.

She continued, another pre-planned outing for us on her tongue, “Oh, and, tonight we’re gonna go see Sleep Token. Adam invited us. Said you still haven’t even been to a single show? Which is unbelievable considering you fucking love concerts!”

Fuck.

This was the last thing I needed.

I already sported a lovesick expression each time Oliver so much as breathed the same air as me. Pair that with him shirtless, on stage with his famous band, singing, and wearing a mask?

Jesus Christ. Why did I put myself in these situations?

I wanted to say, “Yeah, there’s a reason I haven’t gone.”

Alas, I was on a stubborn mission to try to convince Sasha that a.) I didn’t really care for Oliver that much, and b.) I was cool as a cucumber.

So, I hid my feeling of being set-back and fibbed, “Shit, yeah. I keep forgetting those guys are actually in a band. I’ve been meaning to get to a show. Let’s do it!”

And so we went.

-

I wondered if I should tell Oliver that I was coming to the show. I didn’t wanna throw him off or anything, though I knew he took on a whole new persona when he wore that mask. I was mostly worried he’d be angry with me, if he saw my face in the crowd and hadn’t gotten any time to warn his senses. It wasn’t that I expected him to throw up or anything. I just knew that unexpected things always threw me for a loop.

Then again, I didn’t really owe him any sort of warning. I’d been invited to every single concert, every single day they were scheduled. Hell, my brother and Max had been basically begging me to come to a show this entire tour. So, Oliver already had a warning. I could show up wherever, whenever I’d like.

I don’t know why I felt like such a bad ass, no informing him of my presence later that evening. But I think it was combined with the sort of learned independence that I was gaining from Sasha. Throughout this week, this day especially, she’d been slipping in little comments about me and Oliver’s situation, with enough force that I was starting to believe them.

If we really were no strings attached, then how come I was holding so tightly to these cords?

Tonight, I was who I really was, who I deserved to allow myself to be: a regular, fun girl, free as the wind, attending concerts when I wanted to, sleeping with who I craved, wearing what I truly felt like.

That had been the whole point of this trip. I’d let myself get confused by Oliver’s affections. Let myself get distracted, pulled off track. There had been times, especially at the beginning of the summer, when I’d been true to myself; when I went out, and wore short skirts, when I sat on the roof and told Oliver, truthfully, that I wanted to live.

And, then, I’d let him consume every inch of me and become the center of my focus when he should’ve just been something fun to do.

Sasha was really influencing me, and I was grateful.

Now it was just a test of how long I could stick to my guns.

-

“God, I hate platforms,” Sasha groaned, leaning her elbows atop the barricade that separated us from the stage.

I was lodged between her back, the person next to me’s shoulder, and someone’s chest. Contrary to her own statement, I was actually grateful for the black platforms lifting my height up a little bit. Without these- granted- uncomfortable shoes, I would not be able to see past Sasha’s wild curls and the tall head of the man standing beside us.

I kept a hand on Sasha’s elbow as more and more attendees filed in, worried I’d get swept up in the tide that was the crowd of so-called worshippers and wash up somewhere off-shore.

I replied, the volume of my voice a little higher than normal, “My feet are burning, but at least I can see!”

She threw a short laugh over her shoulder, “Fair!”

It wasn’t until the opening act was about to come in that the crowd sort of settled- if settling was what you could call this. I’d been to all kinds of concerts, thanks to my music-devoted family and my connections-based older brother. But, none were ever as intense than the metal concerts I attended. And, this was no different than those.

I wasn’t annoyed, just stressed, since people kept pushing into me, bumping me like the infamous carnival ride cars against others. The man beside Sasha, sort of in front of me, was getting an ear full of apologies each time I hit his bicep with my shoulder. He would- half-annoyedly- toss a look over his back, but offered up a somewhat understandable smile.

After the third or fourth time, he turned around all the way, seemingly ready to give me an earful, “Okay, listen-“ but paused when we made eye contact.

He stared at me for a moment longer than I was comfortable with, examining my eyes, my face, dragging his gaze down my body for a moment. “Uh, sorry,” he shook his head to clear his breath of whatever he was about to say. He started over, “Listen, we're gonna bump into each other. And I’d take you bumping into me over any one of these other people.”

He peeled one more look over my body. I squinted my eyes, over analyzing the situation in my head. He was a creep- I could already tell. But…a cute creep. A cute creep who obviously thought I was attractive. I could…entertain this.

I giggled at his lame joke, setting a hand against his bicep and leaning my body towards him. “Thank God! I felt so bad just flailing myself into you every two seconds. Good to know you’re as okay with it as I am.”

I saw a flicker of approval flash in his eyes. He straightened his posture a bit. The man looked around his body, to what I assumed were his group of friends to his right, back to me.

“Here,” he moved to the right a bit, creating a gap between himself and Sasha. She glanced over to witness the rest of what was to occur.

The man held out his arm as if to herd me in, gesturing with a nod of his chin for me to step forward, to fill the space he’d made. “Let’s get you a better view.”

It really was a nice thing to do, and I was so used to being treated pretty awfully by men. So, the situation made me gush.

I moved up beside him, our shoulders pressed together. We fell into a conversation so naturally, up until the opener finally came on stage. He made points of conversation throughout their performance, drawing laughter from my stomach and goofy grins to my face. We danced during one of the songs, all gangly limbs and off-beat hips.

When the opener finished, he offered to go get us drinks. I took him up on the offer, if only he promised to leave my can of Twisted Tea unopened until he got here. He made some joke about drugging me, we shared another laugh, and he was off with his friends.

Sasha finally had the opportunity to gush with me. “Oh, my God, he’s so cute!”

I nodded excitedly, feeling the rush of the moment finally settle on my chest. I was giddy, yet still nervous, especially considering Oliver and the band would be out soon.

Oh.

Oliver.

I had nearly forgotten about him.

Or…had I?

No. He had been at the forefront of my memory. Every move this man made reminded me of him. His lanky height- though nowhere near as tall- his crinkled smile, the flecks of gold in his eyes.

Matter of fact, he looked almost exactly like Oliver.

So, I had a type.

Sue me.

Or…

Or I was stupid.

It didn’t matter.

I was going to have fun. Maybe I’d fuck this guy. Maybe we’d get married. Or maybe we'd never speak again. Who knew, who cared?

“Invite him out tonight!” Sasha continued.

I furrowed my brows as I drew myself from my thoughts, “Out where?”

Sasha oh’ed, as though she’d forgotten something, “I didn't tell you. Adam said everyone’s going out after the concert.”

I deflated a little as I worried that Oliver had found out I was here. I’d wanted it to be a surprise, wanted to stall him. If Adam knew I was here, Max knew. And if Max knew, he was excited. Oliver had to be aware.

But, I guess I still had a trick up my sleeve…this new guy, whose name I apparently didn’t even know.

“We’re gonna go to the bar.”

I smiled a little, confident in my newfound plan, “I think I’ll ask.”

Sasha nudged me all cutesy. “Good.”

And, so I did. He joked about how we didn’t know each other’s names and I flirted back that that was arbitrary. But, he told me his was Evan. I told him mine. He said a flowery name was fit for someone like me, sweet and suckle.

It sounded better when Oliver said it.

Oliver’s hands felt better on my waist, but Evan had wrapped one around my back, bracing us against the barricade.

Oliver smelled better. Evan wore something cheap, something overdone and…lingering. Oliver’s scent was something sacred, to me, to the world. It kissed my skin long after I’d been with him.

I tried to push all these terrible things away. How awful of me to be entertaining someone else, when I was so clearly infatuated with Oliver? I either needed to cut ties with Oliver or learn to be able to put him in a box.

I wanted neither option. I wanted him to be all over me, staining me.

I didn’t have to want much, though, because he already was.

Evan was getting much more comfortable with me while we waited for the band, leaning down to whisper flirtations in my ear, ghosting his fingers across the bare strip of skin poking out beneath my corset top. He brought us both two shots- each- and an unopened can of alcohol, as he promised. It didn’t really matter now, considering I’d taken the shots and was letting him basically tongue my neck.

Then, the overhead lights dimmed. A hue of blue hushed the crowd. Murmurs resounded in place of what had been a loud hum of conversation.

Cheers bellowed, though, when a masked figure took a seat at the drum kit. Then, the lights faded out again. Because we were so close, I could see Max and Adam, finding their places on stage. They were masked, too, Max’s hands painted red, their bodies cloaked in darkness. Even just thirty seconds into their performance, long before any music had even begun, I cursed myself for having not come any sooner.

The lights came up again and Oliver was standing there, behind the center-stage microphone, his Vessel persona painting his body. Had I not known he was in this band, I really wouldn’t recognize him. I examined for any signs of my Oliver, only really identifying his lean torso in this dim lighting.

Then, he began singing, and any man I had once known was now a vessel for siren-like music. And I was a ship out at sea. A lamb for slaughter.

I entranced for most of the first song. Evan rocked out beside me, bouncing on his heels, singing the words. I, of course, didn’t know the lyrics. Not that it mattered. I wasn’t able to draw up a single thought, speak a single utterance. I was infatuated, completely gone. A zombie amongst this crowd of busy bodies.

The only thing that snapped me out of my frozen state was Oliver himself. The second song had begun and I think he’d finally noticed me. I didn’t know how he’d missed me- I was center stage, thanks to my brother and the other crew members.

But, Oliver was so focused on his craftsmanship that I went unnoticed. And I didn’t even blame him. This really was like worship. Only, he was my altar. I was his sacrifice.

Blood on both our hands.

When he noticed me, I felt like a giddy teenage girl at a concert. He was singing, dancing around the stage with his lanky legs, when he stopped before Sasha and I. I couldn’t see any flashes of recognition on his face because it was covered up. But I watched the slits of his mask tilt like eyelids, watched him pause, watched his lips rub together like they always did when he was nervous.

Then, I watched him grin.

His teeth were bright white against his blackened skin, edges of his lips pink from the paint that was rubbing off. I could almost see the dimple in his cheeks, almost see the wrinkles by his eyelids. He dipped his chin as if to say, “I see you, darling.”

His smile was nothing compared to mine. I lit up entirely, shoulders straightening, posture lifting. Evan’s hand slipped from around me during my adjustments and he shuffled to move it back.

This caught Oliver’s attention. He glanced to my right, noticed the stranger with his fingers on my skin. The bottom half of his face hardened. He stepped back a bit, as if offended.

In response, like it was second nature, I wriggled out of Evan’s hold. He glanced over at me, concern lacing his features, but then the music drew his attention back in. I shot Oliver an apologetic smile.

He tilted his head to the side, boring the gaze of his mask into my own with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn’t read his face, couldn’t see his soul through those dark brown eyes, but I could feel the jealousy, could smell it, oozing off of his skin.

He was mad. Not at me- no. He could never be mad at me. He was mad- pissed off at Evan. For touching me. For even breathing in my direction.

And I fucking loved it.

Oliver shook his head, ever so slightly, as if to warn me for what was to come. For I had sinned against him. And the fruit outside of the garden would never taste as good as it did in Eden.

–

The show couldn’t end soon enough.

I’d completely forgotten about Evan, now only indulging in conversation with him when he’d repeat himself, lean closely down into my ear, and badger me until I responded to him. I was too focused on Oliver, on the excitement of what was to come.

So, as soon as the lights went down, I latched onto Sasha’s wrist, “Let’s head backstage.”

We moved to the left, slipping behind the retreating crowd, which was trickling out of the venue at a steady pace. It didn’t take much momentum for us to get out of the pit, to the side of the barricade where a security guard was stationed.

We flashed our badges and he stepped aside to let us through. Then, he motioned for us to walk back down from where we came, between the barricade and the stage, until we reached the other side of the venue.

We did so, beginning our usual debrief. Sasha went first, gushing about the rhythm section, “Cy is just, like…so fucking talented. And, Oh, God- I don’t know what it is. I’ve never really been into it. But, Daisy…”

She gave me a look, a look I’d seen a million times before. I went to respond, beginning my sentence by saying, “They’re so hot-“

But we were interrupted. Evan had called out my name. Sasha and I turned to him, not far from the backstage entrance. He was on the other side of the barricade still, of course. His friends were grouped behind him, conversing, waiting for him.

“Hey,” he let out a breath, as if he had run to get here, when we were literally only ten feet from where we’d been all night. “Where are you running off to?”

Sasha poked my side, as if encouraging me to engage in his flirtations. I wiggled in response, tickled by her touch. I tried not to make my smile to Evan seem so painful, though it was. Couldn’t he take a hint by now?

“Just heading off.”

Evan chuckled, “Well, yeah. But, where to? You partying with the band or what?”

“Oh, um,” I looked to Sasha, hoping she could read the pleading in my eyes. “My brother’s on the crew. So.”

“Sick,” Evan replied. “Listen, we’re going to the bar. You guys should join us. You could bring your brother, the band, though I’m not sure they’d want to party with us. But, yeah, anyways. You should come. I’d love to buy you another drink.”

God, finally, he was finally starting to lose hope that anything would come between us, evident based on the way he was stuttering a little bit. I didn’t mean to be rude or prudish, but…as a person, I was allowed to flirt with someone and then not want to engage in anything more with them. Sure, it was a little shitty to lead him on like that, but that didn’t matter. I was allowed to change my mind.

“Oh, uh…” I, myself, couldn’t seem to get the words out properly. But, I needed to, if not to save face, but also to respect him and his side. “That’s okay. Look, I had fun. But, I’m not really looking for anything right now. I appreciate you, though. And I hope you guys have fun tonight. Yeah?”

Evan seemed shocked by my confession, but understanding enough to nod, though it was slow. He then stepped back, warily moving away from us. “Hey, that’s okay. Uh, listen, if you change your mind…” he was hesitant, self-conscious, but handed me a piece of paper, “here’s my number. We could have some fun together. Call if you change your mind.”

I offered him my most sincere apology, appreciative of how things worked out. Sometimes, men would get overly offended, their egos wounded, and insult you for flirting and not following through with it. He was doing the bare minimum, sure, but it was kind.

I turned back towards where we had been heading, already bracing myself for the mouthful that Sasha would surely give me. She touched my arm to gain a glance from my eyes.

She frowned, “I’m sure one day I’ll understand. But, right now…I just don’t get why you’re putting yourself through this. I won’t badger anymore, I promise. I just…I think you’re worth more than this. I wish you believed in that like I do.”

She left me standing there, her words milking into my bones like acid, only making me feel worse than I did. I wanted to bite back, but feeding the fight would only cause an issue between her and I. I wasn’t about to lose her because of some stupid boy.

I just wish she’d stop saying it all like I was dumb, like I didn’t understand the complexity of the situation. I did- it was complex. I was a complex. I knew it better than anyone.

I shook off the frustration she left me to sit in and followed after her. I caught up and latched onto her arm, springing into some conversation about the show. I was a little upset with her and her incessant need to try to change my mind, but I really wasn’t gonna let it affect our evening.

We ran into my brother and Ronnie on our way back. Ronnie was overjoyed to see the both of us, leaping from her spot to offer hugs. “Oh, girls! I’m so glad you made it out tonight! Daz…I see you’ve finally graced us with your presence?”

I giggled into her shoulder. She clutched me against her side and squeezed me, teasing my absence from the tour thus far. I patted her hip sweetly, “I knooooow. I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

Sam ruffled my hair, “Bet you regret now, huh?”

“Oh, my God,” I shoved his hand away from me. Ronnie peeled herself off of me. I nodded enthusiastically, “That was fucking insane. I, like…I don’t even know. That was probably the best fucking concert I’ve ever been to.”

“Now that is the highest compliment we have ever received!” Max’s voice boomed from somewhere behind me. I didn’t have time to turn around because he wrapped his sweaty body around me and lifted me into the air.

I cackled horrendously as he shook me about. “Max! Put me down!”

Adam and Cy came from either side of us, wide grins and cheers. Adam was giddier than I’d ever seen him, “You really liked it that much?”

A hush of silence overwhelmed our group as everyone awaited my response. I’d never realized how much I meant to these guys, how much they valued my approval. “I fucking loved it!”

Everyone cheered, loudly. Max set me back on my feet and I turned to give him a proper embrace. Adam and Cyrus patiently waited their turns, squeezing me tight. They moved onto greeting Sasha. I straightened out my black leather skirt and, in the process, noticed that their red and black paints had smeared across my forearms. I easily rubbed it off with the edge of my skirt and it disappeared.

We stood there for a minute or two, discussing the show, before Max demanded we go back to the dressing room and share a round of shots. Sasha was right- everyone was going out here in an hour or two, after the boys showered, after Sam and Ronnie helped finish tearing down. The two of them joined us for a drink before returning to do so. Max, Adam, and Cyrus usually shared a dressing room with Oliver. So, I was anticipating seeing him when we finally made it to the room. Yet, he was nowhere to be found. Twenty minutes had even passed by, twenty minutes of me trying to not stare at the door. And there was no sign of him.

I finally settled onto the couch beside Max, who was rambling about the crowd. He was so happy that it made my chest flutter. I loved these guys so much. It made the situation with Oliver worse. Things would never work out between us- and I could only pray that that wouldn’t affect my relationship with the rest of the band.

Too much had passed for me to stay comfortable like this. I needed to find Oliver, if not to just tell him how fucking insane his show was, but to fulfill whatever he had promised me with that look he had had on stage.

I glanced at the door for the millionth time, knee bouncing rapidly. Adam, who was seated across from us, with Sasha and Cy on the other couch, leaned forward. He touched my knee to garner my attention away from the door. We had little privacy from the rest of the group, but they were so involved in conversation that they didn’t even notice when he said, “Ollie’s down the hall. To the left.”

I flinched at his words, a frown embedding itself into my cheeks. I shook my head side to side as I tried to deny whatever it was he was suggesting. Adam just raised his brows at me, pursed his lips. “Daz, you’re good. Just go.”

I finally breathed again, having stopped as soon as Oliver’s name left his lips. Then, I gave him this half-hearted, tired smile. And I excused myself from the group.

I couldn’t even overthink whatever had just happened between Adam and I as I flew down the hallway. I stopped before the door on my left, bracing a hand on the handle. I wondered if I should knock, though I didn’t think I really needed to. From the sound of Adam’s tone, Oliver was…waiting for me.

I didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing.

Before I knew it, I was opening the door.

Oliver was standing at the dressing table, hands on either side of the Vessel mask as if he were about to take it off. However, he heard me enter the room and quickly turned to face me. His hands fell to his sides, pink skin poking out of the smeared, fading paint.

I nearly stepped out of the room, somewhat frightened by how predatory he seemed. His shoulders were squared, his chest pushed out. He was frowning, like he was disappointed in me or something. One of his hands traced the countertop as he turned his body to face me. I tried not to squirm at the look of his fingers, delicate, yet so…fit to kill.

“Hi,” I breathed out. The door fell shut behind me and the loud click made me flinch. The room was silent otherwise. Oliver wasn’t saying anything, there wasn’t any low humming of any machinery. I couldn’t hear a single person in the hallway. It was like we had been transported to a different place.

“Um,” I didn’t really even know what to say. Should I apologize for looking at another man? Should I compliment him for the show? Yeah, that’s what I would try.

“I loved-”

“Who was that?” His voice was deeper, hoarse from the performance. It sent a shiver down my spine.

I thought for a moment, carefully planning out my next turn of phrase, “...I don’t even know. Just some guy. I-”

“So, you think it’s okay to flirt with other men right in front of me?” He took a step forward. The movement made me push myself back, against the door. I wasn’t afraid, not in a bad way. I just felt like…prey. Like I was being stalked, methodically being coerced towards a trap, only to be skinned and eaten alive.

“No-no. I don’t think-”

“So you agree?” He took another step. The distance between us was slowly but surely being squashed.

I furrowed my brows, swallowing thickly, “Agree…agree to what? Oliver, I’m so confused-” I let out a breathy laugh.

He silenced me again, another step. “You agree that you behaved poorly. You were a bad girl, darling. I think it’s quite clear. Bad girls need to be punished.”

I didn’t say anything- wasn’t able to say anything else as he moved closer. After a moment, Oliver’s chest was against mine, his breath hot as it blew down over my face. I tried to breath properly, but failed, especially as he trailed his fingers up over my thighs, across my hips, to my waist. One hand found my throat, the other came to rest on my hips.

And, I realized…this wasn’t Oliver, not anymore. This was Vessel.

And, Vessel pressed me harder against the door as our lips met, tongues clashing against teeth, hungrily. We moved together so easily, entranced by the other’s taste. I gripped at his sides, pulling me into him, arching my back to press my chest against his. Vessel’s hold tightened, too, and he ground my hips against his.

I felt him get hard, quickly, the loose material of his pants allowing his erection to fully grind against my thigh. He was whiney, all gasping breaths, low moans, as I drug my fingers down his chest, dipped them through his waistband. He made such big claims about how I apparently needed to be punished, but turned into mush when I got a hold of him.

I nearly got to wrap a hand around him, but Vessel grabbed my fingers harshly in his, slamming my hand against the door, above my head. My eyes shot back open in surprise, though I didn’t even remember closing them. “S’all about you right now, darling,” he demanded, words against my lips. “Have to remind you why I’m better than him. That I know your body better than he ever could.” Vessel shoved his head into the crevice of my neck, nipping and tonguing at my flesh. My eyes dropped shut again, head hitting the door in a way that would probably hurt tomorrow. I had a feeling all of me would hurt tomorrow. But, I didn’t care. This was what I had been craving since the beginning of the concert.

Vessel drug his fingers up my arms, leaving goosebumps in his path, trails of black paint like a roadmap amongst my freckles. He slid the straps of my shirt down past my shoulders. Then, he kissed his way down to the arch of my breasts. He rolled the material between his teeth and sunk to the floor as he drugged it down my body. His hands quickly found my skirt, too, unzipping it and tugging it off. Now, Vessel was on his knees below me.

Vessel looped an arm around either of my thighs, nearly pulling my entire weight onto his shoulders. I clutched onto the top of his head, feeling some of his hair slip out from the cap he wore beneath his mask. It was soft, like I remembered it being, though just a bit sweaty. He glanced up at my bare breasts, smirking devilishly now. I tugged on his hair, like I know he always liked, but he refused to give in.

He admired my desperate face as he said, “Besides, darling, I watched you worship me all night. It’s my turn to pray at your altar.”

My head hit the door again as Vessel sunk his tongue into me. He had managed to tear my underwear down with his teeth and they were now somewhere laying across the room. I ground my hips into his face, back arching each time his nose would then rub against my sweet spot. I tried to be quiet at first, though small gasps and moans slipped from my bitten lips.

But, then, Vessel stopped, eliciting a whine from me. He chuckled, lips slick from me. He darted his tongue out, smirking as he cleaned his mouth. He tilted his head in disappointment, “You’re usually so loud for me, darling. Don’t get shy now, just because you’re feeling guilty. I want him to hear how good I make you feel. I want to hear how desperate I am making you feel. Me. Not him. Me."

I nodded, dazed, brows furrowed, fingers digging at his hair. The cap covering his hair had fallen off his head at this point, but the mask managed to stay on. I was grateful it did. He was like a different person, which only blazed these primal desires we shared. Vessel watched my face as he pressed his tongue back up into me, running the tip of it down my entire core. I moaned, loudly, back arched into the cold air, nipples hard from the temperature and arousal. He chuckled deeply into me, making my thighs shake around his head. Vessel pried me back open with his fingers, nearly bruising my skin. He continued on and on and on until I was close. I vocalized my point of no return, and he hurriedly spoke, “Don’t. Be a good girl and wait. For me, okay? Don’t want to make things worse for yourself, darling.

I nodded wildly, clenching my stomach to deny myself of the orgasm. Vessel gently set my feet back on the ground. He guided me by the hips towards the counter. Easily, he picked me up and set me on it. It was freezing cold against my bare skin, but his warm hands, tongue, were on me soon enough. I took the opportunity to unlatch his belt, fingers moving hurriedly. Vessel moved to help me, tugging the pants down his thighs.

Vessel then pushed me back from him, taking control again. He pushed my legs open further with his bare knee. Then, he grabbed me by the hips and tugged me down till my back was flat against the counter. His hand splayed across my thigh as he pushed himself inside of me.

He was sloppy, quick in desperation as he fucked me. But, every thrust he pushed into me was strong, deep. Vessel wrapped my legs around his waist, securing me by the hip. His other hand drug itself up my chest until his fingers were wrapped around my throat. Black paint smeared most of my skin. There was even a ring around his mouth where the paint had transferred from his skin to my own. I don’t know how we would manage to keep this rendezvous a secret from everyone else with the state we were both in. But, right now, I couldn’t care. We always figured it out.

Vessel leaned himself overtop of me, his forehead against my chest. Though he was dominating me, he was so caught up in the pleasure that he was starting to quickly come undone. I touched his back, nails digging into his skin. He tossed his head back at the sensation, neck exposed to me. I eyed the veins protruding from his skin. He smirked at me when he noticed I was staring at his neck. He growled, “Take a bite. Leave your mark. I am yours, darling. And you are mine.”

I held one hand, tightly, to his shoulder, keeping him steady as he fucked me. I couldn’t overthink what he had just said to me, though I nearly lost concentration as the thoughts swirled in my brain. But, I gripped the back of his head with the other, steadying my reality. I was slow at first, nipping at his neck gently. Vessel’s thrusts were becoming sloppy with each bite I took. I was close, too. So, I opened my jaw further, taking a pinch of his skin between my upper and lower canines. I bit down, hard.

“Fuck!”

He quickly pulled out and came on my stomach, as he normally did. As he came undone, my body shook from my own climaxed desire. Vessel pressed his forehead against mine as we rode out our high. We came down from the top and he gave me a sloppy kiss. It was stupid, but the small show of affection meant more to me than anything he’d ever done.

There was a bitter cold left on my skin as he stepped back. I hugged myself, finally taking in the black paint covering my skin. “Oh, god,” I laughed.

Vessel pulled his pants up. He looked at my body, grinning, “Fuck. That’s so hot. Darling, if we had more time…”

“I know,” I smiled up at him. “Hey, we have the rest of the summer.”

“God, don’t tempt me. Here, Daz, there’s a bathroom over here,” this was Oliver now. He finished buckling his belt before peeling off his mask. Sweat dripped down either side of his face and he wore this cheesy grin. Oliver offered me his hand.

I followed him into the side room. He found a washcloth on the side of the sink, clean and unused, and wet it with warm water. Oliver gently pried my hands from covering my body and busied himself with wiping down my skin. He focused on what would be visible: My arms, neck, hands, face. I watched him while he worked. It was fucking hot when he was dominating, disgustingly dirty. But, this, this caring demeanor? This was the Oliver I loved.

Oh, God. I loved Oliver. I was starting to feel a little sick.

When he was finished, he rounded up my dress, shoes, and underwear. Oliver watched sweetly, even helping when I stumbled over my own feet. We giggled into each other’s mouths practically as his hands found my hips and he steadied me. I wondered if he’d bring up Evan again, or if he even cared that much. Maybe it was just a prompt for sex, a situation that allowed him to dominate me. Maybe he hadn’t even meant it when he said he was mine. But I knew I’d always be his.

As we giggled into each other, I was finally able to take in Oliver’s face and had to cover my mouth to stifle the cackle that tickled my throat. He frowned, slightly, confused by my laughter. “What? What is it?”

I touched his shoulders, forcing him to face the mirror. His head pulled back in shock at his appearance.

I kept laughing and Oliver peered down at me with a tilted head. “Keep laughing, darling.”

“I’m sorry, Ollie” I shrugged, “it’s just so fucking funny.”

“What’s funny?”

I yelped, trying to duck out of the way as he jolted towards me. He caught me by the waist, rattling me around in his hold. I giggled, loudly against his chest, trying to twist out of his hold. His mouth was near my ear as he teased me, “Not so funny now, huh?” I rested my forehead to his shoulder in my fit of laughter. Oliver calmed his movements, just holding me against him now. “It just goes to show the mess you make out of me,” he murmured against my ear, lips pressed to the shell of it.

I looked up at him and pointed a warning finger, “Don’t do that.”

“I know,” he huffed as he tossed his head back in frustration. “We should be getting back. Don’t want anyone to suspect anything still. We nearly got caught the other day.”

“Sadly,” I wrapped my arms around his neck, trying to ignore what else he had said. About getting caught. He acted so offended by the thought, as if I were a stain to his reputation, a whore to his royal highness.

Oliver, however, seemed to be able to read the deflated energy in my tone. He leaned around to meet my eyes, touching my chin with his finger, “Darling, I think we should talk.”

Oh, here we go. Here was the dreaded conversation. He was probably going to end things. I was being…too much. I was taking this relationship too seriously, pinning all my hopes and dreams on a man who just wasn’t able to love somebody. He was too full of darkness, too hurt to find the capacity to love me like I deserved. He was ‘going through things.’ He was ‘broken.’ He needed ‘space.’ It wasn’t me- it was him. It was always him. Him. Him. Him. Oliver.

I knew this would happen eventually. I braced myself for impact as I watched him take a breath. I couldn’t find the space in my lungs for any air and it burned my veins. My stomach churned. My brain hurt, so, so badly. I was…tired. I just wanted him to say it already, to kill me, to twist the knife. Get it over with. I was tired of the games, tired of the back and forth. If it was going to end- could it just be now? Before he kissed me again and I fell even more in love with him?

Oliver loaded the gun, aimed, and fired, “I don’t like the idea of you sleeping with other people. I know that’s selfish and loaded and…I don’t know. I meant it when I said you were mine. And I…I am yours, Daisy. I need you, only you…and I need you to feel the same. But, I understand if you cannot because of the way our relationship still has to stand. Nothing really has changed on that end. And it’s so shitty of me. I want to…I want it to be different. But it can’t. I don’t know, I just…I need you to say something before I lose my mind…”

I twisted in his arms, finally finding the ability to breathe. My jaw was slack, my brows furrowed together as I took in everything he had just said. I didn’t know, exactly, what to say, so I tried to just focus on my breathing. This wasn’t some big love confession, no, not the one in the pouring rain, or beneath the sheets of his hotel bed that I had been wishing for. But, it was something. In fact, this was horrible. This was…selfish. Like he had said. Selfish and loaded and bullshit. But…it was something. It was…him. Him and I. It was him admitting his feelings, in his own twisted way. He was mine. He had said it, clear as day, had demanded it of me, too, in a desperate, breathless confession. He was mine- I was his. We belonged to each other, even if that didn’t change any of the strings between us. It was something for me to hold onto.

It was something for me to worship, to pray to, to hope on. A star in my Northern sky, a hand around my throat and heart…Oliver’s. Oliver. My Oliver.

That was when I truly knew how devastating things would be when they ended. I could see the fire from there, could feel it licking at my skin. Yet, all I did was smile through the burning, lean up, and kiss the flame.

[the-cookie-of-doom]

Chay takes his first sip of beer under Macau’s careful guidance when the last guest walks in, and the horrible taste of it combined with the sheer shock of the third cousin means most of it ends up sprayed down his shirt, and all eyes are on him as he coughs and desperately gasps for breath, and Chay wants to die. 

Because Macau’s cousin? Is Wik. Wik. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He manages to wheeze, while Macau laughs and thumps on his back. 

“What, you’re a fan?” 

Chay can’t very well say yes, seeing as Wik is right there, ten feet away, watching him with mounting annoyance as if he already knows the answer. Of course he does. And of course he wouldn’t want Chay anywhere near him, his family, on what is supposed to be a private vacation. God, what was Macau thinking, bringing him here?

“Who are you,” Wik asks. His voice is dry enough that Chay feels parched. He can breathe again, and he clutches his beer to his chest like a shield, and not like the thing that almost killed him a second ago. Or maybe that was Wik. Either way, Chay is in danger. 

“Our virgin sacrifice,” Macau says, because apparently once wasn’t enough. “This is Porchay, he’s my friend, don’t be an asshole. Chay, this is my loser cousin, Kim. Who, yeah, is also kind of famous, I guess. Don’t make it weird.”

“Hello,” Porchay says weakly. “I, uh… I really like your music.”

“Thanks.”

Chay feels a strong urge to apologize—and offer to leave right then and there, even if it means calling Porsche to drive the three hours to get him—but he doesn’t get the chance. Wik—Kim—is gone just as fast as he'd appeared, taking his guitar case with him. Strangely it isn’t any easier to breathe in his absence. 

“You’re an asshole,” Chay informs Macau. “You planned that, didn’t you?” His best friend’s shit-eating grin informs him that yes, he had. 

“Dude, your face! I thought you were going to die!”

“I wanted to! That’s so messed up! He’s going to think I’m, like, stalking him, or something.” 

“Nah, probably not. Seriously though, don’t be too weird, or he might kill you.”

Nevermind that, Chay might kill himself. How is he supposed to get through the next two weeks? 

***

Out of respect, Chay does his very best to avoid Kim and stay out of his way. He doesn’t know if the older boy notices, because of the aforementioned avoidance, but he hopes so. He wants Kim to know he’s trying. That he isn’t here to creep on him, that he isn’t one of those psycho fans. Yeah, Chay has a little bit of a shrine at home, but all of the pictures on his wall are from professional photoshoots. No paparazzi photos or creepshots from other fans. Nothing from his personal time. Chay isn’t like that. He doesn’t want to intrude. He just wishes he could explain himself. 

The opportunity comes the next morning. Chay is awake before anyone else; he kicks around in bed for a while, then goes to Macau’s room across the hall, but he’s still fast asleep. Chay isn’t comfortable enough to go explore, but eventually his stomach drives him in search of the kitchen. It’s massive, borderline industrial, and fully stocked to feed an army. It’s ridiculous. 

Chay is cracking eggs into a pan when he hears another set of footsteps, seconds before he’s greeted by Kim’s handsome, scowling face. He must have just rolled out of bed; he’s wearing soft-looking lounge clothes, barefoot, and his hair is just messy enough that it could be intentional, if not for the softness around his eyes. Softness that disappears as soon as they land on Chay. 

“... Good morning,” Chay greets, with an awkward smile. He turns back to the stove, trying to communicate I’m not watching, just ignore me. It must work, because rather than turn back the way he came, Kim joins him in the kitchen. 

“Hi,” is all he says, and Chay is content with that. 

There’s a fancy-looking espresso machine at its own coffee station. Kim takes up his post in front of it, grinding down coffee beans and pressing them into the filter. He takes down two small glasses and sets them beneath. Soon, the rich scent of fresh coffee fills the kitchen, the espresso machine's pop and hiss accompanying the sound of frying eggs. 

“Do you want me to make you something?” Chay offers, not turning around. 

“No.” 

Kim doesn’t say anything else. Neither does Chay. He chews on his bottom lip until his breakfast is finished, and he plates his eggs on a pile of sticky rice. 

This might be my only chance. 

“I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable. By being here, I mean,” Chay starts. “I swear I had no idea when Macau invited me. He said he was just coming here with his cousins. I-I wouldn’t have agreed. If I knew. I promise.” 

Kim turns to face him fully, leaning back against the counter. Chay fidgets beneath the weight of his gaze. “Really?” he asks. He doesn’t sound like he believes Chay one way or the other. 

“Yeah, yes, I wouldn’t want to intrude. I’m obviously,” he waves his hand between them, “You know, but like. You’re with your family. That’s not my business… Or anyone else’s,” he adds, trying to reassure Kim he isn’t going to tell anyone about anything that happens on this trip, without saying that outloud and reminding him it was ever a risk in the first place. 

“Hmm.” 

Please believe me. Even if they never see each other again—Chay will leave right now if Kim tells him to, he’ll figure it out—he needs Kim to believe this. That Chay isn’t another vulture trying to take more of him than Kim is willing to give, as if it’s something he’s owed just because he’s a fan. 

“Porchay, right?” Chay nods. “How do you know my cousin?” 

“We go to school together.” 

Kim looks at him doubtfully. Chay’s face goes hot, and reminds himself what Porsche told him before he left; just because they’re rich doesn’t mean they’re better than you, don’t forget that. 

“I’m, uh, I’m there on scholarship.”

“Really? That’s not an easy scholarship to get.” No kidding. Chay took a summer prep course for the entrance exam and that alone was almost too much. The exam itself nearly made him pass out. “What was your score?”

“Uh… One hundred percent.”

“Bullshit.” 

Chay flushes, equal parts embarrassed and something slightly less than angry. “They made me take it twice. The proctors thought I cheated the first time.” He didn’t. He’d spent the entire summer studying, because Porsche told him this is what he needed to do for his future. To make their parents proud. Chay never knew their parents; he just wanted Porsche to be happy, and to repay him for being such a good brother. 

“And you got the same score?”

“... Ninety-eight percent, the second time.” He was terrified, and that meant he made mistakes he wouldn’t have otherwise. 

“Still nearly perfect.” Kim regards him carefully, his head tilted, and Chay is too incensed to properly appreciate the flex of Kim’s bare arms across his chest. “Interesting.” 

Chay thinks that maybe, from anyone else, interesting might have meant impressive. 

Kim turns his back on him again, then, leaving Chay to eat his now-cold breakfast while he finishes his coffee. Neither say anything else. It’s painful in a way silence always is for him—to Chay, silence means loneliness, means sitting at home and waiting for his brother to walk through the door, bloody and beaten, or it means hiding from debt collectors—but Chay refuses to break it again. 

He also refuses to look at Kim, which is why he startles when a porcelain cup is set down in front of him with a delicate clink, a cappuccino with delicate-looking latte art and a dusting of cocoa powder. He looks up and Kim’s back is already to him again as he finishes making his own coffee. He cleans the espresso machine, puts away his tools, and leaves without another word, no doubt in search of a better refuge to enjoy his morning coffee, without Chay breathing down his neck. Even though Chay already wasn’t doing that. 

Whatever, it’s not like it matters. 

Chay picks up his latte. He’s a little bit mad at how good it is, blooming rich and smooth on his tongue, and not overly sweet. 

Like Kim, he thinks, glowering into the milk foam. 

[howlsofbloodhounds]

THE CROWSHIPPING TALK HAS SUMMONED ME!!!

the question of how dust would worship death has been in my mind forever and i still haven't decided how to go with it. i understand reaper and grim are based on greek mythology, so maybe a practice resembling ancient greek worship rituals? there are also modern pagan practices for greek gods as well.

though, i do think of murder's creator being korean, so maybe there should be some cultural references to that? i'm not korean, but i believe that chrysanthemums are closely related to death and rebirth in some korean regions. in east asian cultures, marigolds are often used for funerals/shrines/tombstones because they take a long time to wither away. korea also has a lot of different belief systems/religions, so that might prove a bit tricky as well.

however, since murder is a monster living in the underground, his beliefs regarding death and religion are not the same as humans. monsters might have their own belief system (the prophecy is one). so it just turns into a mushy pile of "how the hell is murder going to perform rituals" to me lol

~ crowshipping anon

I suppose it can be a mixture of all three; monster influenced, Greek, and Korean. He can scatter the monster dust on the things that were important to them, and perhaps he leaves them some gold or coin for the equivalent of the ferryman, and and perhaps he can place marigolds and chrysanthemums near, on, or around their important item or otherwise on their dust.

I suppose it’s important to consider just how much time he will reasonably have to dedicate to Death, and how often, and what he could be willing to do that is small, less time and energy consuming, but no less important or valued. (Murder not realizing just so much and truly and deeply loved he is by Death 💕).

And of course, how much he will be able to get away with and hide in Bad Sanses AU, considering he is under the care and protection of basically something like a God of Negativity—at least in comparison to Murder himself.

Not only do we all know that Nightmare is possessive, it might just frankly be insulting or offensive to do worship other God(s) or Goddesses while in the service of another, involuntary or not. Murder likely wouldn’t know for sure, but insulting Nightmare even unknowingly could be dangerous.

Elaborate rituals don’t have to be a frequent thing, considering how Dust is in a little war with the human and will likely be very busy in Bad Sanses AUs—taking into account things like his mental health and physical health, just how much energy he’ll be able to offer and do reasonably on a regular or even non regular basis.

Even as something as sharing a meal with Death—or inviting one or both of them to join him with his meal—can be enough, and could possibly even encourage him to drink and eat more frequently if he is sharing with or offering to his Gods.

The worship and devotional acts doesn’t have to be entirely death or underworld or afterlife related—the simple, mundane things would likely be appreciated, especially if they’re done by Death’s priest(ess).

Even dedicating time to learning more about Death and Their mythology, Their lore, Their history—Them—can be an act of devotion. Any specific self care ritual could possibly be as well—such as washing with a specific scent.

This may actually even be a common worry for Murder. That he isn’t doing enough, worry that having to hide it can be taken as being ashamed or embarrassed, that he isn’t able to do something for Them on a daily basis. Either because of “work” and having to survive such a hostile environment, or simply because Dust is too exhausted to even get out of bed.

Perhaps this is something Death will often try to reassure Their Priest(ess) about frequently, reassuring him that even silent prayer is more than enough for Them—and They are not going to get mad at him, or leave him, or otherwise punish him. They are not Nightmare, and They understand that mortals have limits and lives they must attend to.

I can imagine that being able to perform one of the big rituals is pretty exciting for Murder though. Especially if it comes on the heels of having finally found freedom and enough stability and energy to do it with a bounce in his step and a bright smile on his face.

[hunterbunter3000]

Krueger being a seat sniffer isn’t shocking tbh 💀 that man def already picked out the names of his and Sweetheart’s future kids and wedding plans detailed in a binder (is he manifesting or delusional; who knows lol!).

He also def has a shrine dedicated to Sweetheart openly in his room, atleast the other boys have the decency to hide their shrines in their closet 😤😂

LMAOOO STOP THATS SO HIM (AND FUCKING EVERYONE ELSE)

He has like- three binders and two notebooks he has for Sweetheart and his future with her. Like it's just FILLED with where they would live, how many kids they would have, tHEIR NAMES, the colleges they would go to, the house he wants to get when they get married, THE WEDDING

MANS IS EVEN PLANNING FOR THEIR RETIREMENT LIKE-- KRUEGER??? he's delulu and manifesting for this to happen!! Let's cheer him on! ✨️🙏 PFFTT-

And yes. He has a shrine of Sweetheart. OBVIOUSLY. THE MOMENT YOU WALK IN its right there in your face. It's sitting on a small table-like stand and it's FILLED with framed pictures of Sweetheart and heart shaped candles around them. There's a long frame with gold on it, and inside of it is a nail set he got her his first time ever (that was three years ago 💀) She told him it was coming off, and she was so sad because he got it for her (he fell in love with her more because of that) so he helped her get them off, and he told her that he'll throw them away.

S I K E

once she left he threw them in his pocket so fast and ran off to his room 💀💀 and then there's a pedestal on the table, and it has a small, marble bust of Sweetheart he paid someone to do on etsy (HE LOVES ETSY IM NOT CHANGING MY MIND) and what's crazy is that all of its glued down to the table, and there's a button behind it, so he presses that button when Sweetheart comes around and the table top flips, being empty and he places magazines on the clean top 🧍‍♀️ THE MAN HAS A SECRET CONTRAPTION FOR HIS SHRINE

(You can't deny the fact that he prays to it as well. You CANT)

He's down horrifically bad. He wants her sO BADLY

well get tf in line BIG BOY CAUSE SO DOES EVERYONE ELSE

They don't really have shrines like Krueger (because he's delusional) but everyone does have a picture of Sweetheart or some sort of gift she's made them somewhere in their room. Or on them.

Like Alejandro has a small gold locket of Sweetheart he wears around his neck and NEVER TAKES IT OFF-- and when he's about to go on a mission, he kisses the locket, says a small prayer and puts it under his shirt, so he knows that he's protected and has someone to go back to (why am I making myself cry)

Rudy has a picture of Sweetheart framed with a letter she sent him on his desk with the little things she's made him. He reads the letter every time he misses her (WHY AM I DOING THIS TO MYSELF)

Ghost wears a braided friendship bracelet Sweetheart made him. (Its black and blue with lil skulls) He hides it on his left wrist with his glove, but he still wears it. When he's not around Sweetheart, he plays with the ties and smiles

Soap has like a little collage of pictures of Sweetheart and him on a corkboard. They take pictures when they're in a new country or state and collect weeds of flowers and give it to each other (SO CUTE I LOVE SOAP) and his sketchbook is FILLED of Sweetheart-- like he remembers what she looks like so much he sketches her from memory. And he uses a separate sketchbook for her, he calls it "Sweet's Looks".

Gaz only has one picture of her, and it's on his phone. It's Sweetheart cuddled up on his side, hand on his chest while watching a movie. It's obviously his home screen wallpaper (not his lock screen he can't handle that) he also has a little basket of different rocks Sweetheart has given him because she has a little basket of rocks he has given her as well (they're birds I tell ya)

Price has a photo of her in his hat. That's why he never lets anyone touch it, and his heart beats a little quicker when Sweetheart wears is hat cause he's nervous she's gonna see the picture (she has, and it's her and Brutus together and she squeals everytime in her mind)

Roach has a picture of Sweetheart taped to a bear. 🧍‍♀️ don't really wanna go into that one--

Alex has like- one of those photo booth type of pictures. Yk the ones that come in threes or fours. They went to a mall and Sweetheart HAD to get some. Alex uses his as a bookmark.

Now Horangi is like Krueger. He DOES have a shrine but it's in his closet. You will NEVER SEE IT.

König would have a shrine in his closet as well, but it's SMALL. Like two pictures and a good luck letter she wrote to him when he was on a mission. He's so soft for her good lord.

Graves has like.... I don't know a paperclip? That Sweetheart gave him? Think he still has that pen that Sweetheart forgot to take back. Still counts.

[autumn0689]

An analysis of Alice, Rose, and Scratch’s relationship with Alan as it relates to obsession. Well, my interpretation of their relationships with him.

I love how in the game, there are characters, well three in total, who have an obsession (well, not in Alice’s case but I’ll get to that) with Alan Wake (the man himself) and how interesting those dynamics are in relation to how Alan views the person.

With Alice, it’s not an obsession but she does do everything she can to help her husband, even willing to throw herself back into the Dark Place to help him and is helping him every step of the way. Alice has always wanted to help Alan, which is what led her to bringing him to Bright Falls to get help, and I can imagine that Alice is happy to finally be able to help Alan, even if it’s from a distance.

With Alan, he cares so much for Alice. He cares to the point of doing anything to ensure her safety, even if it ends up being detrimental to himself, such as sacrificing himself so that Alice could emerge out of the lake, and Alan is constantly worry about Alice, with his goal often being about how to help her, to save her even. Alan’s view of Alice is almost like he doesn’t believe she can handle herself, which is the exact opposite, and when Alan falls for Alice’s rise in believing that she is dead, he gets furious, then guilt ridden when he learns that it was him haunting her, causing him to almost have a disregard to himself, thinking of saving everyone and even ending the story with him dead, taking Scratch with him and Alice refusing to let that happen as she helps him ascend by leading him to where he needs to be, slowly inching him towards ascension as Alan probably has something he hasn’t felt in a while, hope. Hope of escaping and to be with Alice (and I do hope they will be together in the end and the story not end in tragedy)

Alan’s relationship with Alice is one on how romantic relationships are, on how it’s about love but also about conflict in the relationship. Alan’s refusal to get any sort of help and to sulk when he was experiencing Writers Block began to strain his and Alice’s relationship and how as much as Alice tried to help, Alan had to be willing to put in the work. It’s about how mutual their relationship should be, instead of Alice constantly worrying about him as Alan, quite frankly, treated her and others around him like shit. It’s about how strong their love is, with Alan being shocked how Alice was still with him, even after everything he did, and their relationship isn’t abusive, it is heavily flawed, just like all types of relationships are. Their relationship to each other is about care and so, so much love for one another, and how that even if relationships grow sour, there is always a chance to change it and to possibly have their relationships become stronger because of it, and that through all their hardships and being separated for so long, their love for each other remains just as strong as it did thirteen years ago.

It’s not exactly obsession, but I feel like Alice’s relationship with Alan is important to keep in mind as I continue to discuss about other two people who have more intense feelings for the writer, but in more unhealthy ways.

With Rose, almost everything she does revolves around Alan. She worships him, wants to be his muse, wants to be with him, and writes fanfic about him (which is not a bad thing but I love that she writes fanfic, you go girl) and she basically has a shrine of him, but is able to show self restraint when she meets up with Alan, which surprises me, because she was very professional when she met with Alan, but with Saga she was basically gushing about him, being happy to help him in whatever ways she can, doing anything to help him, and I mean anything.

Alan’s relationship with Rose is one akin to a parasocial relationship. Rose is head over heels for Alan, calling herself his ‘muse all along’ and writing fanfic and drawing sketches about him while Alan remembers her ‘as Rose from the Diner’. Since Alan said that he wasn’t leaving Rose any messages, it was most likely Scratch, and it shows how easily Rose is to be manipulated by others if they just use that ‘Alan needs her’ (Saga even said the phrase that Rose had been waiting for and got excited even though Saga didn’t believe that she was a character in his story) and, believe me I understand liking an famous people or obsessing over a fictional character, but Rose took it to the next level, having her whole life dedicated to helping Alan and, being stated to ‘read The Sudden Stop before she goes to bed’, and while it’s okay to like authors or fictional characters and actors, it’s not when it becomes to unhealthy standards, like how Rose started to basically dedicate her life to him and never outgrowing that obsession for him.

Rose’s obsession with Alan was used by her to Scratch’s advantage, using her obsession of Alan to his own gain, and with Rose’s parallel to Cynthia Weaver, who was obsessed with Zane and how that ruined her life and led to her demise, it is very possible that Rose’s obsession with Alan may lead to her demise. (I love Rose and while it’s fine to like Alan’s work, considering her parallel to Cynthia, I hope that her obsession with Alan doesn’t consume her to the point that she doesn’t have a life outside of a singular goal to help her crush, just like Cynthia, and I hope that Scratch leaves my girl alone!)

Now speaking of Scratch, let’s get to him.

Scratch is OBSESSED with Alan. Scratch is basically after Alan in Alan’s section of the game. Scratch is way different than his American Nightmare self, being more reclusive in his appearances rather than his more boisterous self in American Nightmare (and also that he was drenched in blood a majority of the time) He then hitches a ride in Alan’s body, laying dormant until Saga got the Clicker, then he comes out and WANTS the Clicker, so much that he even takes over Saga’s Mind Palace before Saga regained control. Then Scratch takes over Casey, takes the Clicker, and turns Bright Falls into a never ending DEERFEST in which they talk only about one thing: Alan. It’s all about Alan, about his book, Return, and how is a fantastic writer.

Now we get to the chase scene in the Wellness Center. Scratch says many stuff that alludes to his obsession of Alan (and himself by extension) saying lines such as ‘welcome be back home’ and ‘everything revolves around us’ and ‘you are home’ a bunch of other lines. It’s such specific dialogue that Scratch says, mostly referring to him and Alan as one, especially since he had disdain for Alan in American Nightmare, often remarking that he is better than Alan and doesn’t even want to be put in the same league as him. Now, we have to remember that Scratch is now an aspect of Alan in AW2, so Scratch’s obsession over him could be the fact that they are both linked together, with Scratch being Alan’s dark self manifested.

Now, Alan’s relationship with Scratch is purely antagonistic. Alan holds immense disdain for Scratch, to the point of writing a note that Scratch is bad. Since Scratch wrote Return and Alan modified it, Alan has even more disdain for Scratch, and then he learned that, apparently, Scratch was haunting Alice, which resulted in her ‘death’, and then Alan went and shot who he thought was Scratch, only to learn that it was him, that he was the one haunting Alice.

Alan then, as a result of Saga being thrown into the Dark Place and Alice’s ‘death’ and Casey being taken over, blames himself for everything that happened, and while he still has animosity for Scratch, he acknowledges that he also had a role in what happened and that he had to fix it, with him writing him dying, taking Scratch with him, beckoning him home, most likely a symbolism of Alan accepting his dark sides, as Saga shoots him with the Bullet of Light, resulted in him dying, then coming back as he utters “It’s not a Loop, it’s a Spiral.”, leaving Scratch’s fate ambiguous.

Scratch and Alan’s relationship is one of repression, of trying not ignore your worst qualities, and instead of trying to resolve them, you ignore them as you let them fester, and since Alan is in the Dark Place, a place that can alter reality, Alan’s dark self was manifested as Scratch, at first a murderous, suave being who had no regards for anything and dislikes Alan, to an animalistic egotistical being that wants to take over Alan’s body (and if you want you can also interpret Scratch wanting to be Alan so that he can take his place, just like how Mr Scratch in AWAN wanted, but instead of being separate he wants to be the only one, which may be why he wants to be in Alan’s body, since technically Alan would be out of the picture) in which Mr Scratch represented people’s interpretation of Alan while Scratch represents Alan’s repressed emotions.

I wonder how Scratch will be in NG+ or in a hypothetical Alan Wake 3 if NG+ doesn’t wrap up the ending. I wonder if he will even play a part since Alan technically took him ‘back home’ or if Scratch is still out there. Since this is a spiral, is Scratch still inside Alan? I guess we will have to wait and see until NG+

Can’t wait to see what else is in store for this amazing game and, if NG+ really does change a lot, how these relationships change (or not change) in NG+ (and to see more of Alice)

To anyone who has read all of this (my ramblings) uh… thanks. Feel free to correct me if I got anything incorrect and wow this was a longer post than expected.

[wildflower-otome]

[Translation] 9 R.I.P. - Yukimaro Heavenly Ending After Story

Source: 9 R.I.P. Stella Set Special Bonus Booklet Note: Major Spoilers for Yukimaro's Heavenly End below.

Only Your Spirit - Yukimaro Heavenly End After Story

Since I had become a spirit only for my mistress’ sake, the days and months had gone by—.

Today I was again waiting by the gates for my mistress to finish school.

.....Mistress, you sure are late today. Normally you would have come out by now. It can’t be that you’ve been attacked by a ghost—!

Just as I was about to break into a run, Lady Sayaka emerged from the gates-

‘Yukimaro-san! I’m so glad you were here after all.’

‘Oh, Lady Sayaka. Has something happened?’

‘Misa asked me to give you a message. The committee she’s in charge of is having a meeting, so she’ll be a little late.’

‘What, so that’s all it was. .....I’m so relieved it wasn’t a ghost.’

‘Hm? Did you say “a ghost” just now??’

—Oops. Just as I would expect of an occult enthusiast like Lady Sayaka. What sharp instincts she had, not even the slightest bit of information made it past her.

I felt indebted to Lady Sayaka and would have liked to tell her lots of things, but my mistress had told me not to say anything to her about the spirit world, or ghosts.

‘I didn’t say anything?’

‘You didn’t? I was so sure I heard you mention ghosts just now. Ah, speaking of ghosts.....’

.....On that note, until the arrival of my mistress, Lady Sayaka and I kept up a lively conversation on ghost stories.

* * *

‘Hm, a book that grants wishes, you say? How fascinating.’

‘Isn’t it just?! I’m certain it really must exist!’

As we were talking, my mistress made an appearance and- Hmmm?  Wh-whaaaaa-!?

‘Isshiki, if you don’t mind, shall we go home together? There’s something I’d like your advice on.....’

‘Sorry, I’ve got plans, maybe another time?’

‘Oh, I see, gotcha. See you tomorrow then.’

‘Yeah, see you.’

Who was that guy!? Just now, right in front of me, he had asked my mistress out!?!?

‘Lady Sayaka, who was that? Who is he to Lady Misa?!’

‘P-Please calm down. Your eyes are going bloodshot..... That was Matsuda-kun, he’s in the same committee as Misa..... that’s all.’

Matsuda, was it.....

I’ll remember this, Matsuda-whatever your name is. I’ve firmly engraved both your face and name into my memory. Next time I catch sight of you, you’d better be ready!

‘Yukimaro-san, sorry for making you wait~! Thanks for giving him my message, Sayaka. Or rather, did you two both end up waiting for me?’

‘Lady Misa, great work at school today.....’

‘? Yukimaro-san, you seem kind of off somehow.....’

‘W-Well then, I’ve got errands to run, so see you guys tomorrow! Bye!’

‘W-Wait a moment, Sayaka! .....She’s already gone. And here I was thinking we could go home together, all three of us-’

‘Mistress, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about for a moment. Come with me.’

‘Wh-What? If you say so.’

* * *

 I decided that we would have our talk at Tsukumo Shrine.

Here it was quiet, and there would also be no one to get in our way.

‘What is your relationship with that Matsuda guy!? I heard you’re both committee members, but it sure didn’t seem like just that to me!’

‘Oh. What, so that’s all this was about?’

‘”That’s all”!? The two of you were acting all close! Right in front of me, your boyfriend!’

Unable to repress my emotions, my mistress took my hand as if to restrain me.

‘Yukimaro-san, calm down! It’s true we’re on the same committee, but he’s just a friend.’

‘Uuugh.....so you say, but that might not be the case for Matsuda-whatever his name was. He said he wanted your advice, but I’m sure he was just trying to get closer to you.....’

‘Sheesh, you don’t need to cry, alright? Don’t you trust me?’

‘Of course I do! But still.....! .....I get anxious. You’re just so dear to me, Mistress, my emotions just start running wild.....’

My mistress took a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped away my tears.

‘There’s no one for me but you, Yukimaro-san. I want to spend this life with you. And even after my death, we’ll be together.’ 

Lady Misa.....’

‘Hehe, I much prefer it when you call me that.’

‘Oh?’

‘I mean, recently you’re always calling me “mistress”..... I guess it’s because you’ve become my spirit, but when it comes right down to it, I would like it if you called me by my name.’

‘In that case, I shall address you as “Lady Misa” from now on. Or even just “Misa”..... perhaps not using honorifics will make it more obvious how close we are.’

 ‘Th-That’s-, um.....I don’t mind, but it does startle me a bit.’

Seeing Lady Misa’s face redden slightly as she smiled made my heart soar.

Gently touching her cheek, I lightly pressed my lips against hers.

‘Y-Yukimaro-san, we’re outside-’

‘I don’t care. The two of us are lovers. The couples in those foreign movies kiss all the time, even outside.’

‘But this is Japan.....’

As Lady Misa looked slightly exasperated, I kissed her lightly once more.

‘Where we are has nothing to do with it. Just having my beloved at my side makes me lose all reason.....’

Although I was extremely happy to be in love with Lady Misa, wanting to be even more fulfilled by the joy she gave me, I couldn’t help seeking her out. No matter how much time went by, this was a thirst that would probably never be quenched. 

Because I had ended up loving her to the point of abnormality.....

‘Misa, I love you from the bottom of my heart.’

[nientedenada]

No One Knows Who Talos Is

I’ve rediscovered lately how many people think it’s canon that Talos is three guys in a trench-coat: Tiber Septim, Wulfharth of Atmora, and Zurin Arctus. 

So time for another reminder. NOWHERE IN THE GAMES OR OFFICIAL LORE TEXTS IS THIS EVER STATED.

“What about the Arcturian Heresy?” you might ask.

To which I say, “Read it.  Talos the god isn’t even mentioned in the text.” (I could add that it’s the Arcturian Heresy which doesn’t mean it’s automatically the truth and that the Greybeards in Skyrim contradict one of its biggest claims, that Tiber Septim never went up to High Hrothgar before his first big battle. But that’s another story for another time.)

“The Arcturian Heresy” is a book about how Tiber Septim managed his public profile by taking credit for two other guys’ stuff. It never says anything about the three becoming a god together afterward.

Now, if you decide to take the Arcturian Heresy as fact, it’s an interesting theory that they got all tangled up together and became a god, and of course, we had devs who endorsed the idea in non-official works. There’s a hint in one corner of Morrowind for it when we meet a guy who may be Talos and he introduces himself as Wulf. But it’s not canon, and there are a whole bunch of other possibilities for Talos’ origins.

Six Alternate Explanations

1. The most suspicious Official Imperial cult one that no one seems to buy in fandom: The gods were happy he did such a great job and said, join us. Yeah I’m suspicious too.

2. Tiber Septim engineered his own cult of worship in his lifetime (canon), and after. Somehow, he fiddled around to give himself power. (Come up with your own theory how he leveraged the people’s worship.)

3.The Book THere Be Dragons implies he ate a bunch of dragon souls to ascend. 4. He’s tapping into the Missing god Lorkhan’s power somehow. The extreme version is he mantled Lorkhan. There’s a lot of circumstantial evidence for a link between Talos and Lorkhan, but again nothing official.

5. CHIM. Speaking of mostly out-of-game theories championed by devs. CHIM is mentioned a tiny bit in game, but never explained, so it can be made to do a lot of stuff in your head-canons.. 6. The Thalmor would like to remind you that Talos is not actually a god. Sure, you can get blessings from shrines, but consider that in Morrowind, you can get blessings from saints’ shrines and it’s explicitly stated that the Tribunal priests enchant them to give the blessings. The Imperial cult is completely capable of setting up Talos shrines. (There are some issues with the Thalmor’s stance, particularly involving the DLC Knights of the Nine, but if you’re really in denial, here are your starting points.)

Final Note: This is a jokey round-up of a bunch of theories and headcanons and I’ve left out a lot of the details. But if you want my opinion?

I’m Talos-Agnostic, though I lean towards there being something to do with Lorkhan. Not fully mantling him, though, because then we’d be talking about Lorkhan not Talos, who would no longer be the Missing God. But what do i know? Have fun with all the possibilities. 

[bahbahhh]

begin again

a lot of change happens in between Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom. let’s fill in the gaps.

zelda pov | zelink | totk spoilers | rated T zelinkweek2023 | @zelinkcommunity

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ao3 appears to be back up more consistently, but I will continue to post full chapters on tumblr.

your comments, kudos, reblogs, likes, feral tags, questions, curiosities, are all so appreciated. seriously, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

read on ao3

chapter 3

for the prompt “letters”

‘You sure?’ Link signs with one hand. He’s sifting through the chest at the foot of his bed, layers of silk and cotton and wool in every color around his feet. He’s started clearing out unessential belongings from the Sheikah Slate in preparation for his travel and by the looks of it, – there are piles of material everywhere (gemstones, rock salt, a heap of shields, a basket of Hinox toenails) – he seems a little overwhelmed he has to manage the sorting manually once again.  

Zelda leans her back against the banister lining the loft that overlooks the main floor to his home. There is a bundle of blue nightshade in the vase by his bed. It glows dimly in the absence of sunlight through the window, like a children’s bedside candle. She used to have one to ward off nightmares after her mother died. 

“I’m sure,” Zelda answers and glances back at the nightshade. Does he just prefer them or does he need the glow? After he emerged from the Shrine of Resurrection, when she was still able to watch over him while he slept, in the shade of a tree, in a corner bed of a traveler’s stable, by a small fire in the wild, she would sometimes catch him jolting into consciousness. Frantically reaching for whatever weapon was laid to rest beside him, pulling back from the spot his body had been, as if trying to escape something unseen and unyielding. For some reason, she always imagined a dozen hands reaching out for him from the dark of his dreams.

He stops sifting through the chest at the foot of his bed and turns to face her. ‘It’s cold.’

“Yup.”

“Really cold,” he says out loud.

“I remember.” She flinches as the words roll off her tongue. Such a simple phrase and yet, spoken to him, after all he’s been through, it feels like a knife in her hands. She knows he’s just being honest, thoughtful even, but the insecure parts of her claim he doesn’t want her to come. She crosses her arms over her chest and tries to keep the edge out of her tone. “I’d like to see the Spring.”

It's the last shrine in the region for Link to clear. Tomorrow he’ll be off to Eldin to start on the shrines there and then he’ll work his way east. An urgent message came in about a week ago from the Gorons. The lava appears to be cooling and they fear Death Mountain will fall dormant before they can commit Vah Rudania into the central vent. No one can recall a time when the Gorons expressed urgency, so Link’s original journey was revised. 

It’s taken two full months to plot out Link’s path. They have to be somewhat strategic about the shrines because he loses the ability to fast travel when he clears one, which isn’t much of an issue at the start, but as the shrines disappear, he will need to rely more upon horseback or foot to navigate back and forth. He is to clear a region, take a monster census, check in with the group running point on the guardian removal, load whatever is left into the Sheikah Slate, and then move onto the next region. They estimate he can clear at least three shrines a day. Originally, the plan proposed more, but Link hinted at the unpleasant side effects of excessive Slate travel and the Summit unanimously agreed to accept whatever he could manage. 

Purah estimates if they stay on track, all Sheikah Technology could be gone in a year. 

A year. 

Link turns back to the trunk. He fishes out a tunic, vest, and trousers, embroidered with the symbols of Rito Village, and tosses them in her direction. Zelda lunges forward to catch it all, weighing them in her arms carefully. Impossibly light for how thick the material is, she can smell the crispness of Tabanthan wind, like it’s woven into the fabric itself. 

She blinks. “Is this your snowquill set?”

He nods. 

“You’ve just finished telling me how cold Mount Lanayru’s peak is.”

He nods and holds up an emerald green doublet. The right sleeve is badly torn. 

Zelda shakes her head, holding out the snowquill set to him. “ I don’t need–”

He gives her a look. It will take him all of a minute to clear the shrine with the Slate, but they have to travel by foot down the mountain to Kakariko because he’s already cleared the rest of the surrounding shrines (hence the need for strategy moving forward). 

“I can wear the doublet,” she insists. He rolls his eyes. The ease with which he accepts personal discomfort has always bothered her, but especially now when it is on her behalf. She wants to tell him doesn’t own her anything, not his best cold gear, not his smile; that she’s better equipped to handle being uncomfortable than most after standing in a festering spring of rot and oil for a hundred years, but before she can protest further, he lifts his shirt up over his head. 

Scars weave like roads on a map across his chest, memories of pain etched forever into olive skin, the worst of which a blossom of twisted flesh on his left side where the guardian carved an entire piece of him out with a fatal glare all those years ago. It’s memory she wishes would erode with time, but clear as the day it happened, she can still feel the scream he let out when it hit him in her teeth.

He pulls his head through the hole in the doublet and makes eye contact with her.  Zelda busies herself with folding and refolding the snowquill set over her arm. She can see him shifting in her peripheral, pulling off his pants, rummaging around the trunk for another pair and some boots that will protect him against the mountain. When he’s satisfied and set, he grabs the Master Sword and exits the loft wordlessly, gifting her privacy when he takes none for himself. She’s left to change and try to diffuse the electric current running across her skin.

Somehow, she does, only for it to return the second she comes down the main floor and he tells her they have to be touching in order for the Sheikah Slate to transport them both. 

“What?” She tries to keep her voice steady. Link holds the Slate out, inspects the space between them, and then steps directly into her. They stand toe to toe, so close she can smell the pepper from the elixir on his breath. “You’ve- uh- you’ve done this before?”

He shakes his head and lifts his gaze to look at her through pale lashes. She can see specks in his eyes so blue it’s like something is always lit behind them. “It’s only meant for me, right?” he says. “It has to register you as part of me.” 

“Oh,” Zelda would be fascinated if her stomach wasn’t knotted so tight. “Should I…?” She lifts her hands toward his chest, hesitating. 

He nods. Zelda swallows. Come on, you walked into the mouth of ethereal darkness completely alone, you slayed the Great Calamity and purged all its malice from the realm, you can touch him. She wraps her arms around his middle and tucks her head into his shoulder. She feels him lift up onto his toes so he can see the Slate, hears him select the shrine, and then the world bleaches white. 

It’s an incredibly awful feeling; to exist and then just not; to splinter into a million pieces of burning magic. At least when she was with the Calamity, her physical body remained, acting like an anchor inside the neverending storm of magic. If there is any doubt inside her about the validity of Link’s theory, about Sheikah Technology being powered by spirit energy, there isn’t now. With her soul is exposed and pulsing like a nerve, she can sense the entirety of the Sheikah Technology network - all the shrines, every guardian, the towers stretching up into the sky, the furnaces burning outside the Labs - all these things without a mouth suddenly have one, and they open wide and desperate, and begin to siphon energy from her.

She comes back to herself in pieces, and when there is enough for her to cling to him, she does, gasping Lanayru’s frigid air into her lungs. She immediately starts shivering violently– although it feels more from shock than from cold. 

He leans back enough to see her face, his hands on her, smoothing hair back from her eyes. He opens his mouth, but his voice doesn’t quite leave his throat. She watches him give up on speech quickly, and instead, tilts his head with concern. 

“D-does it feel that terrible to you?” She gasps.

Link nods. She can see all the color has completely drained from his face. His eyes are sunken, the glow in the speckles now dim, like he’s been wounded and is bleeding out. 

She hates that she knows what that looks like. 

“Every time?”

He’s still inspecting her. Maybe making sure all of her made it back. When he’s satisfied, he steps back and bends over to retrieve the Sheikah Slate which sits in the snow, several inches deep, at their feet. He must have dropped it when he reached for her face. Or it just fell when they reappeared. That’s more likely, she tells herself.

He nods again, and signs, ‘I didn’t try it again for a year after the first time.’ 

Zelda often thinks about why it took Link so long to enter the Sanctum. Initially, after he gained the paraglider and the Runes, he launched himself off the Great Plateau and made a beeline for the castle. Zelda watched him march through the ruins of their fallen kingdom, seemingly fearless and determined to reach her, until he walked into the nest of hostile guardian stalkers crawling over the bones of Castle Town. Calamity slipped out of her hands for a moment, and swirled into the sky to greet him, spewing a fountain of malice so high into the atmosphere it stained the moon. Link ran all the way to Blatchery Plain and didn’t step foot in Central Hyrule again for nearly two years.  

Fear was a big part of it, but as Zelda watched him grow stronger, as memory started to return to him, she couldn’t help but feel like he was searching the Wild for something that could strip him of the destiny he could barely remember. Something that could sever the connection between them. She willed herself to give him grace, to smother the resentment that began to fester in every extra inch he put between himself and the castle. How could she damn him for running from fate when she herself resisted it as long as she could?

Those thoughts are even uglier now, having experienced what it was actually like to use the technology that waited ten thousand years for him. That was made for him.

“Link, you can’t do that more than once a day,” She wraps her arms around herself and shakes her head. 

‘It’s what needs to be done,’ he signs. 

“No,” Zelda steps forward. He doesn’t retreat, so they are close enough to touch again. She holds herself tighter to keep from reaching for him. “It’s not. I’m serious. We don’t need to do this so it's over in a year. We have time. We have help, now. ” 

He looks at her for a long minute. His expression is painfully neutral at first, guarded, but then it softens and at the same time, life starts to bleed back into his cheeks. He reaches out and grips her shoulder, firm enough to register between the layers of Rito feathers; enough to reach the parts of her that feel lost and guilty and alone. 

Link makes for the shrine. Zelda inhales and blinks the tears from her eyes, trying to hold onto the warmth he’s ignited inside her while his back is turned. The Spring invites her forward. She sets her jaw and glares at the eerily still water, unable to lift her eyes to the statue even though she can make out the reflection of the Goddess in the water. 

Does she pray? Speaking of running from destiny and owing nothing. Is devotion all she has to offer? Is it all they expect of her? She can see Link at the shrine in the cave just beyond the Spring. There is a flash of bright light and then a slow creep of darkness as the shrine disappears. She’s squeezing herself so tight her arms begin to ache, fighting against the muscle memory of where her hands go when she’s standing in this spot. 

No, she’ll never pray again, but the thing that was supposed to occupy her hands, the key to her new sense purpose, all of it will be gone in a year. It’s already gone from this place. All that is left is the statue and ice and waters that know her more than she seems to know herself.  

The wind on Lanayru’s peak is as brutal as it was a century ago. It rips at her exposed skin, and she’s immediately grateful to be wearing more than she had the last time she climbed to the top. When she climbed to the top…

Something pulls at the back of her skull, a nagging tiny detail she’s suddenly aware she is missing. It’s enough to force her gaze up to the Goddess, who has her blank eyes fixed on Zelda, waiting, as unhelpful as ever. 

Zelda can’t stop the question from pushing past her lips the second he’s within earshot.

“What’s the date?”

He pauses.

“Today’s date?” She repeats. “What is it?”

He tells her.

It’s her birthday. 

The same day a hundred years ago she failed in this very spot and the Calamity emerged, bringing terror and death and the near end of the world. If he remembers, it doesn’t register on his face. He just looks cold and a little confused. No one else would remember the date, everyone it was significant to is dead.

‘What’s wrong?’ He sweeps his hands in front of her face to get her attention. She didn’t see him approach her through the swarm of her thoughts. 

Above their heads, Naydra, a ribbon of ice, circles the mountain and lets out a groan.  

“Nothing. It’s just I’m…I’m 18.” Zelda replies in a hollow tone. Even as she says it, it doesn't feel true. She can’t decide if she feels eighteen or a hundred and eighteen. It is just a date, and somehow, it’s the same as the moment he recommended they destroy the Sheikah Technology and Hyrule rallied, the instant she realized Purah has been circling Sheikah Towers on maps, when the shrine by his house disappeared into nothing before her eyes. 

It’s time to move on. 

Link was right. It is cold. Pillars of crystal blue ice curve into fingers that point down. Away from the Spring and prayers she will never say again, in the direction of a spot in the distance, maybe the same the Sheikah Eye looks to now, that Zelda can’t quite see, but everyone else seems to trust. 

Snow begins to fall in sheets of white, a storm summoned by Naydra’s descent. It rapidly begins covering the path ahead.  If she doesn’t move her feet soon, she risks becoming trapped. Frozen. 

The fire his touch lit inside her goes out. She looks at him and the light behind his eyes. She’s so desperate for warmth and Purah said it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, anyway-

Zelda lunges forward into his arms, buries her face in the doublet she should be wearing, and lets out a sob that is swallowed by the wind. 

—-

Three weeks after Link leaves for Eldin, a letter arrives in Hateno addressed to her.  

Zelda stayed behind to focus on phase two of the restoration efforts. That has always been the plan, but when she watched Link disappear, face caged by the helm of his flamebreaker armor because he was teleporting right into the beating heart of Death Mountain to see the cooling lava for himself, she couldn’t help but feel regret she didn’t ask to go with him. 

Purah put her to work immediately. There are a few moments that have felt good even without Link there, like when they helped Reede figure out how to update the irrigation system, meaning the village can plan to double their crops next year; or whenever Purah pulls her aside to get her thoughts on the Anti-Aging Rune. 

It’s what needs to be done.

His words replay over and over again in her head. They keep her from doing selfish things, like looking over the proposal stuffed under her bed or cocooning herself away from the world in her tiny cot in Purah’s study. They have a kingdom to restore and jobs to be done; roles to define. Now is not the time to be self-serving. It is time to move forward. To let go of the past. Bury what she can’t destroy. 

Zelda,

I’m hoping the letter survives the heat. When I’m close to the belly of the mountain, my arrows start smoking. Took your advice. There are only ten shrines in Eldin and no one seemed to notice I was a day behind schedule when I reached Goron City. I’m not saying I won’t use fast travel when I need to, but it feels easier to travel how I prefer after what you said. Thanks. 

The bike helps. Did you know I have one? It is shaped like a horse. Climbs the rocky terrain around the mountain pretty good and I don’t feel guilty like I would if it was one of my own. The horse god would have my head. I’ve never asked her what she thinks about a Divine Beast in her liking.  

Anyway, it’s the only thing I think I’ll miss about the Tech. 

Will you write to me? I meant to ask before I left, but it never felt like the right time. Would give me something to look forward to.

Link

Zelda rereads the last sentence three times. Every inch of her is warm and buzzing. Her heart rabbits against her breast so hard she has to set down the letter and fold over herself, pulling air in through her nose until everything slows enough for her to form a coherent thought. 

She has a response ready before the sun sets the same day. 

Link,

I’m glad to hear you are taking care of yourself. Have you been able to rest, too? You said you were a day behind schedule, which means you still traveled dozens of miles of craggy terrain in record time. If you are looking to make a habit out of my taking my advice, please prioritize your rest. 

I didn’t know about the bike. It was more challenging to watch over you toward the end and I’m assuming that’s when you received it. Did I ever tell you I did that? If these letters are meant to have a theme, I suppose I should share something, too, right?  

I would be happy to write to you. I will be leaving for Tarrey Town in a month’s time. I’m not sure when this letter will reach you or when you’ll have time to respond, but I’m to meet with Hudson to hear the rough proposal for rebuilding efforts across Hyrule once the Sheikah Technology is gone. 

Everything is moving so fast. I suppose it all feels fast to me now. It’s a good thing, right?

Zelda

His letter breathes new life into her final days in Hateno. She borrows an old shirt out of Link’s trunk, rolls up the sleeves, and volunteers to help Dantz and his sister Koyin build out the fence for more livestock. The learning curve is pretty steep, she’s never had so much dirt cakes under the fingernails, and although Koyin seems a little annoyed with her at the start, when Zelda shows up with the sun the following morning, ready to work, the tension dissipates by noon.

His next letter comes a week later. 

Zelda,

I’m resting when I need to. I hope you are, too.

We never talked about that, but it makes my memories of that time feel less lonely now. Thank you.

Eldin has the least amount of shrines and guardians, so I’ll be heading east soon. I’ve got the cores.The Gorons plan to use most of the guardian metal in their restoration territories to reinforce the mines closer to the volcano since it withstands the heat well. 

They are sending Vah Rudania into the fire tomorrow morning. It still feels as hot as hell up here, but they are convinced something is changing inside the mountain and want to get it over with. They will be splitting their aid between Central Hyrule and Akkala to help the Hylians once it's all said and done. Yubuno is leading the charge to Akkala.  Say hi to him if you see him. He’s more useful than he gives himself credit for. 

Hudson’s an interesting guy. Watch yourself – not like he’s dangerous or anything, but he’ll have you running errands for him if you aren’t careful. He’s good at selling what he’s invested in and nothing is more important to him than forward motion. Except maybe his wife, Rhondson. I think they had their baby girl right before the Summit. He was anxious about being away. Can’t remember the name. 

If the building is up to Hudson, it’ll be in good hands. 

It does feel fast, but at the end of it all, it's just another year. Important things take time. 

Link

His penmanship is challenging. She can tell he’s either walking or riding while he writes by the blotches of ink and the aggressive slant in his writing which means either he’s lying about the rest, or he’s multitasking because of it. 

They exchange several letters in the six months she spends in Tarrey Town. Hudson is passionate about what he’s good at, and she learns more about infrastructure and the philosophy of construction than she imagined possible. She watches him raise three new homes from nothing in the time she is there.  Everyone in the village plays a part, down to the children who paint the stamps of the town’s symbol; a heart, which Hudson says is the most essential resource they have for the restoration ahead. It’s the kind of thing a real leader says. She’s learned better than to get ahead of herself, but the idea Hyrule could grow without her needing to take the throne, where she is bound to fail them again, if someone like Hudson guided them takes root. 

She half-jokingly starts referring to him as President Hudson. 

Zelda also spends time with his infant daughter, Mattison, whose tiny fingers and bright emerald eyes give Zelda enough strength to keep her teary eyes on the horizon when Purah announces she and Robbie have a plan for the Sheikah Towers– tear them down, too. They propose erecting brand new towers, called Skyview Towers, and they think they can power them entirely with sunlight. A formal prototype of the device to connect them all is also in the works: the Purah Pad. 

Link makes it to Hebra. There are significantly more shrines and a graveyard of decaying guardians in the canyon that splits Rowan Plain and southern Tabantha. The Gorons he traveled with take most of the metal back to Death Mountain, so he goes up into the snowfields alone and takes out a white-maned lynel by the North Lomei Labyrinth. This is one of the regions their strategy must be followed closely, otherwise he risks getting stranded in a blizzard without shelter. He bounces back and forth between Rito Village and the shrines scattered across the mountain range over the course of several weeks. He sends her feathers, and braids of colored rope, and receipts from his stays at Swallows’s Roost and Snowfield stable. She sends him a cherry red Akkala forest leaf and an order from Hudson for a hundred and thirty six bundles of cedar. 

Link sends back a twig.

He’s surprisingly witty, but by the time he’s reached Faron, his humor runs out. His letters grow taciturn, more reflective of how he is in person. He reports on cursory things like the weather and the lack of ingredients for a proper meal. The only glimpse into what he’s feeling comes with how he signs his last letter:  

I never want to see another shrine again. 

By her estimate, he’s still got at least three dozen shrines left between Central Hyrule, Necluda, and Akkala, so she avoids mentioning anything about them and instead, asks where his favorite place in Hyrule is, hoping to break up the droning routine of his days and coax something hopeful back out of him. 

She doesn’t hear from him for six weeks. 

Impa tells her to try not to worry, that he’s known for disappearing for much longer and now that he is known, someone is bound to recognize him and will send an update of whatever has sidetracked him in good time. The lack of urgency from the Sheikah makes her blood boil. Even Paya, who has been known to worry about too much dust and heirlooms, doesn’t seem all that concerned with Link’s whereabouts. It makes Zelda wish she was anywhere else; makes her long for a home she could run back to and slam the door. It’s not their fault the way the wind moves through the pass to Telta Lake reminds her of the sound he made when his last breath rattled past his lips, or the fact she’s barely slept because she’s watching the skies for a Blood Moon (there hasn’t been once since Calamity Ganon defeat). Even though she has no way to warn him properly, it's the only way she feels useful. Like visiting the Spring of Wisdom, or the pause that grips her everytime she passes the inlet to the Goddess statue in the center of Kakariko, or blaming Hylia, it’s another old habit from her old life that activates whenever she feels useless.

She’s about to write to Prince Sidon for help when the updates come in. All the shrines in East Necluda, including the one that sat on top of Eventide Island, are gone. Link was last seen riding a draft horse in the direction of Central Hyrule. Another report says he’s been seen near Lake Hylia, heading north toward the Great Plateau. 

The letter arrives soon after. 

I’m standing in the broken cathedral on the Great Plateau. I guess they call it a temple. It feels like it might have been holy once. Maybe it was the place where something significant happened, or something important was hidden, but if that is true, it's long gone. It's just the first of many empty, rusted places that have told me about myself since I woke up. This is the place where I learned ghosts could speak and I could hear them. It’s also where I first heard your name. 

I followed the plan and came here after the Gerudo region was done. It took me half a day to clear all the shrines. Only the Shrine of Resurrection was left. I was going to paraglide off the northeast wall toward Lake Hylia and prepare for Faron. That’s my problem. I’m always ten steps ahead. Most of the time I have to be.

Zelda, I completely froze. I stood outside the Shrine for an afternoon that turned into another and then another, trying to pull myself together, screaming at my feet to just move, but I couldn’t do it. It feels like the Shrine knows I’m here. Like it’s waiting for me to step back inside. The more and more I stare at this stupid cave, the more I see a mouth that will close the moment I’m inside. 

So I left, took care of Faron, came back, left again and went to Necluda. 

You want to know where my favorite place in Hyrule is? There is a spring on top of a waterfall north of Lake Floria. It's where I first saw Farosh. Came right out of the water and climbed up into the sky above my head. Nearly scared me to death. I can’t really explain it well, but it's where I realized I wanted to actually be here. Ruins and wild and all. It's where I realized I wanted to be the one to save Hyrule. To save you.

I followed Farosh back to the plateau this time. I took one of her scales for courage. Imagine that. I know what I have to do. Just like I did back then, even when I was running and telling myself they had the wrong guy, or if I made them wait long enough, they would find someone else. 

It’s just, sometimes it feels like this destiny asks too much, you know? 

I know what I have to do. And I will. As selfish as it sounds, I just wish you were still with me.

Link

She wipes her mouth. As much as her fingers shake with it, as badly as she wants to pour her heart into a reply – because she knows exactly what he’s saying when he talks about destiny and feeling selfish and needing courage– the letter feels like a plea–

A prayer. 

She shivers like she did on Lanayru. There is gold on her tongue, the taste of pure sunlight and falling stars. Why is it only in moments when he’s suffering can she summon this Power? She pushes the words as they form in her head across all the miles between them, trying to imagine them soaring like birds to where he waits. She tries to imagine them reaching for him and his head turning to the sound–

But there is no way for her to see him now. She’s not confident the magic is even really there, so when the buzz leaves her fingertips and she can actually grip a pen, she sends those words in a letter, too.

Link, 

Come to Kakariko. I’ll go with you. I’m always with you. 

You don’t have to do this alone. 

Zelda

end notes- This fic is set in the same story as like someone would” You don’t have to read it, but it might add a little extra context to this chapter in particular, especially since that fic is Link’s POV.

[ditch-lily]

Idolistic - titles and symbolism

Thanks for those who encouraged me! So here it is, idolistic chapter titles! Not all of them are symbolic, and some are obvious lol. But a few have made my brain light up in nerdery because I’m a little into connecting/crafting simple phrases into symbolism. Also puns (sorry). Idk if that even makes sense but, here we go!

Be aware idolistic spoilers for up to the latest chapter, chapter thirteen. Also warning for some of the quoted scenes, as they have canon typical violence.

Idolistic 

So, actually - I’ll start off with the fic title. We all know it’s a play on words/pun I figure. It’s a play on idealistic/and idol, and idolistic is the worship of idols, in a religious context. For me the title feels like it’s more Chay’s POV, which is interesting as idolistic is my Kim epic lol. 

But it’s that journey from having an idealistic view of your idol slowly turn into something real. Chay’s literal wall of idolatry (wik shrine my beloved) turning into Chay’s real interactions with Kim. So for Chay, it’s like Kim turning into a real boy, and all the unexpected scary things of Kim’s real life running into that idealistic view of an idol.

On the other side of it from Kim’s pov, the symbolism in idolistic is what he’s seeking from the world. He wants to escape into a singing career – an idol career. And he’s idealistic about all the things this world could give him, safety and normalcy. A haven away from his family’s world.

Also - being idealistic about something in my view doesn't mean what you believe is false, or you're being naive, it's just your hopes and dreams and what you want out of something.

Chapter 1. The mortifying ordeal of being known 

Uhhh alright this one isn’t all that deep. It’s just the meme. But it’s chosen for that spike of intense suspicion / fascination Kim gets when he stumbles across Chay’s stan account, and all the ways Chay shows he knows Kim without them ever having met. Like Kim is so into being known. What a little freak (affectionate)

Chapter 2. Dirty pool

This is a fun one! It’s a phrase meaning ‘underhanded or unsportsmanlike conduct.’ It's Chay cornering his idol and putting kittens on his lap until he’s too burdened down by all the tiny little creatures he’s got to look after to move. And then Chay smiling sunnily and going; hey, how do you know which school I went to?

And for anyone who’s like, Idolistic Chay is more suspicious than the show, one of the first questions Chay asked in the tutoring scene in kp was how did you know I have a brother. Kid knows!! But he’s like this is my beautiful babygirl idol? I am hanging out with him right now and if he’s a little weird? Okay that’s cool I don't mind, I like all sides of him :)

Okay also thanks jeff for now giving us literal photos of the scene

Chapter 3. Three times in the back, with a serving knife 

Okay, no this is just cluedo. Murder mystery Kim. Kim so into being the hot nightclub singer who gets to stab people on screen. Nothing deeper than that.

But thanks Jeff for also like giving me a visual ref after I posted that chapter. Helpful.

Chapter 4. The reel in 

The reel in is where I start playing with lines. This chapter title comes from a line in the previous chapter, here’s the whole paragraph:

The man was a loose end, his father didn’t have the right strings to pull at the right time. Kim had just had an interview, the T-pop segment, his face broadcasted to thousands of new viewers. The call the next day, the reel in. Kim can still feel the echoes of it, that night. The crack that reverberated through him, his hands. The pull on his muscles.

Chapter four is where Kim gets drawn back in on an errand. It’s the first time we see it on screen in Idolistic, rather than as a memory. This is the reel in, him being dragged back. It’s also playing double duty, the reel in, after the job is done, he’s almost magnetized and makes his way on autopilot to Chay’s house. 

So it’s both the worst part of his life, being drawn back into the violence of his family and father, but then it’s also the other side of it – one of the best parts of it, being drawn into someone else’s sphere, someone who he’s attracted to and wants to be around.

Chapter 5. Cupid's bow

Another link! So, this is the love chapter for me. The title links back to chapter three:

Chay gently traces over the shape of Kim’s lips, the tips of his fingers trailing across the bottom lip, then the top, gently pressing against the cupid’s bow.

And it’s playing on different notes in the chapter, but all the same theme. Cupid's bow – Kim is falling for Chay. It’s him reciprocating Chay’s interest, the return of affection, falling into the beginnings of love. It's Kim being shot with an arrow from cupid's bow. But its not just the metaphorical, it's also a physical real thing - the cupid's bow on the lips. So it becomes a real world expression of how Kim returns that affection. He doesn’t know how to approach it, so he echos Chay’s affection back to him, caressing him in return:

Chay’s eyes are dark and intent on his, his face flushed from kissing. Kim reaches up, tracing the evidence on Chay’s lips, an echo of Chay’s touch from last week– bottom to top lip, a press against the cupid’s bow, then lets his hand fall away.

Idk, it's just profoundly Idolistic Kim to me. He doesn’t know exactly how to express things, but he’s intently paid attention to how affection has been expressed and acted upon onto him. 

Chapter 6. Debts cleared 

This one I feel isn’t that deep. It does hit more than one beat I feel, but it’s not complex. Debts cleared is the act of Porsche giving up his brother and his way of life to leave and clear their debts, so Chay can live free of that burden. 

But it’s also Kim, learning that Porsche is involved with his family, and not understanding how/or why that’s happened.

That bit of it comes from this paragraph:

Porsche’s entry is there. The amount owed is large, but Kim stares. There is a small notation next to it. It means, debt cleared. Kim flicks his eye over to the corner of the page, quickly checking. If a kill order was given there’s usually another mark, just a small circle to indicate. 

While it literally means you are clear of debt, to Kim it’s like, my family does not just wipe the board clean of debts. That's not how this world works, so this is suspicious, and shows something else is going on here.

Chapter 7. The soft launch

Okay this one is silly and simple. It’s just a soft launch, which in social media world is posting an informal picture of your partner, without a formal announcement. It’s like hey what up I’ve been hanging out with this hottie 

Anyway forever proud of Chay and his game and the way that boy must have just shocked his fellow stan following by posting this pic of Wik. Like boy get it

Chapter 8. Choose your fighter 

OH THE RED HERRING the side accounts. So, when I wrote the first few chapters the side accounts and that aspect of the story was meant to be a little bit more of a core theme, but I just went in a different direction. I like the direction it went lol, but it really means Kim’s side account and the plot of that got scrapped.

What does that have to do with the chapter titles? This is the chapter both Kim and Chay choose their fighters for their upcoming battles. In Chay’s world at that time, his biggest concerns are his brother (who’s ‘away’) his suddenly complicated but amazing dating life, and then – the things that link back up to that, say, a certain side account who is releasing personal information on his new beau.

So, Chay who has freshly met Kim’s team and manager is like, hey I have resources now, and chooses his fighter – P’Mod, for his upcoming sting operation to oust the account leaking sensitive Wik information. 

It's really only shown briefly but here's where it went down:

By the time he gets back to the office it’s lunch time. P’Mod is at her desk, going through files, talking to someone on the phone. Her tone is serious, and Kim inches forward, eavesdropping.

She’s talking about the Riverfest leak. “That account has always been annoying.” She hums with agreement over the phone. “Yes, that’s true. But don’t worry too much, if the source really is that close it’ll be an easy job.”

She taps her lip, considering something. “Y’know, you’re becoming a very useful addition. But don’t stress too much kid, I’ve got it handled.”

For Kim, it's his battle with his father. This is the chapter he chooses to risk it and approach Vegas. He needs someone that his father wouldn’t suspect he’d work with, and that’s Vegas. 

Chapter 9. Three for three

So, this is a baseball term lol, but I never learnt it from baseball. Baseball…isn’t really popular in my country. But it means three things were attempted and the person was successful all three times. 

This is related to Kim being reeled back in, into a fairly violent and worrying errand. And its Kim’s instincts of no, I can do it. I’m fairly on the nose with it in the chapter lol:

He is good at it, he knows. He does like being good at things. And he’s always had a skill here.

There are nine men. A much better number than twenty. Survivable, if he's quick. 

There’s three on watch, three out the back counting merchandise. Three in the main room, smoking and drinking. Nice and balanced, and he's ready to see if he can do it. If he can go three for three.

And as we follow, he counts down the men until we’re at the end, with his self-affirmation of three for three: 

One left, running for the door. Kim sets chase, knees screaming at the speed. He leaps onto his back, teeth bared and breath heaving. He takes him down, rides him down to the ground with his arm around his neck and his knife in the man's side.

There. Done. Easy.

See? He can do it.

Chapter 10. Fools rush in

No fancy linking of previously written things for this one! This is our fools performance, our clown car full of Theerapanyakuls crashing into a wall lol. This is our chapter of secrets coming undone, and for me it really is Kinn and Porsche, crashing into Kim and Chay’s world. It’s the collision of secrets and brothers and relationships, both romantic and fraternal, and how that unearths everything.

It's also Chay getting to see how he may have rushed in, and thinking (oh poor baby) that he’s been made a fool of, after discovering everything that has been hidden from him.

Chapter 11. Outgunned 

Another non complicated one. It’s Kim being physically outnumbered by the men who come to kidnap Kinn and Porsche, but also being outgunned/outnumbered by the situation. He’s reacting to things, he’s not in control of anything. This is the aftermath of all his secrets coming out with Chay, and then the lack of control and power he has to save his loved ones when danger comes knocking at their door.

12. Three things to bring to a deserted island

Okay also not complicated! It’s a reference to the side ficlet, of one of Wik’s early interviews. Which then links to Tankhun’s little trivia challenge for Chay, where he successfully wins Kim’s hand in marriage. Not that he knows it.

Chapter 13. Line of sight

Okay I’m fond of this one! Line of sight is a phrase I’ve used for Kim referring both to Chay and Vegas, and his father. The way I use it, line of sight is a reminder to pay attention, both to things you love (Chay) and the things that could blindside you, and threaten the things you love (Vegas, Korn).

From chapter three:

He doesn’t want to show up to Vegas’s little pre-planned meeting, but it’s better to keep Vegas in your line of sight.

Chapter seven, referring to how his life is directly shaded out by his father:

All the spaces he inhabits, his apartment, his studio, they get shaded out in the evening. It’s from the sun, low on the horizon, stretching out the shadows from his father’s building.

A distance would be better, sure. But Kim’s always believed it's better to keep your goals in your line of sight.

And within this chapter, I went all in on it lol:

But now the real world is creeping back in, and Kim doesn't feel ready to not have Chay in his line of sight just yet.

And

Tawan has a gun on his brother, and Kim’s out of his line of sight.

He moves quick. A blur behind Tawan, sliding in between Porsche and his target. It’s seconds maybe, his signature move. He launches himself up, gets him around the neck. A sharp thrust of movement, a snap, and it’s done, Tawan collapsing at his feet.

So, this chapter is the consequence of Kim not paying proper attention to his sightlines. He should have noticed more of Vegas and his plots –in fact Kim is aware of them in my opinion. Not the particulars, just that they're happening, and he’s dismissed them because Vegas is always plotting, and Kim’s busy. But then he gets completely blindsided by Tawan, and gets wrapped up in that messy plot.

So, we get a Kim who reacts to Vegas’s plots, rather than foiling them preemptively. But also, it's not Kim’s job to monitor Vegas and his schemes against the main family. 

Back to sightlines, it’s also, keeping Chay in his line of sight – in the warehouse showdown, Kim is always aware of where Chay is, at all times. That's his priority. When he first wakes up, he’s like, get Chay out of the bad guys line of sight. And he does it.

But then it ends on a more complicated note. Kim is not being fully seen by Kinn, and he’s getting tangled up in all the family plots. Kinn is not paying attention properly and seeing the danger Kim is in, and deals with. Kim is not being registered in Kinn’s own sightlines, and that’s painful for Kim. 

So when Kim notices Tawan can’t see him, when Kim is ‘out of his line of sight’ and Tawan is also actively putting his brother in danger - Kim makes an impulsive decision. He wants to save his brother, but he also wants his brother to finally see him, and the violence that he has been a victim of.

It's Kim's own version of a confession, he puts himself directly in Kinn's eyesight and show's him what he's capable of.

Okay and we're done! Yes that was overly thinky and dramatic. I have too many thoughts. But I hope you enjoyed me being a ridiculous overthinker. Will future chapter headings have symbolism? Maybe, maybe not, it’s all a little in the moment when I think on the titles, so I guess we will see!

[grailfinders]

Grailfinders #327: Izumo no Okuni

merry nobumas, everyone! sadly, this event doesn’t have any new nobus, but at least it gives us cool builds like Izumo no Okuni! first we make the puppet with some Creation Bard levels, then we fuck demons up with the puppet with some Watcher Paladin levels.

check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

next up: our good personal friend Ranmaru

EDIT: huh, okay, Izumo does use her own sword. okay then, ignore most of the negatives then. sorry about that, this is one of the perils of trying to get stuff out the second the story drops

Ancestry & Background

Okuni is a Human, but she also has a puppet- to make that, we’ll start by giving her a Mark of Making, giving her +2 Intelligence and +1 Charisma. this gives her an Artisan’s Intuition for an additional d4 added to all arcana checks and anything involving artisan’s tools, which covers both halves of your expertise! we also grab a free proficiency with woodworking tools so you can get started on building your puppet.

while you’re working, you already start off as a Spellsmith, giving you the Mending cantrip for free redos and you can cast Magic Weapon once a day, but it’s both spell-slot- and concentration-free. speaking of spells, your Spells of the Mark add some options to your spell lists- the full list of spells you can use is in the character sheet, but if you see us take a spell that isn’t on the bard list, that’s why.

you’re a shrine maiden, that’s an Acolyte, so you have proficiency in Insight and Religion as well.

Ability Scores

Charisma is your highest score, as you could probably guess from being a bard. you dance, you hit people with puppets, both of those are charisma. somehow. after that, Dexterity. it’s kind of weird dexterity doesn’t affect dancing, now that I think about it, but you’re a caster so you don’t wear plate mail. that being said we do need to make Strength higher than I’d like, but you’ll have to carry your puppet around most of the time, so it’s kind of a workout, I guess. Constitution is above average because it would suck to die before you even get a chance to use the puppet at all, so you’ll have to live for five levels without it. that means your Wisdom is lower than I’d like and we have to dump Intelligence pretty harshly. it’s far from ideal, but we only need those for skills and saves. thankfully, being a bard and a paladin both help a lot towards making up for these shortfalls, eventually.

Class Levels

1. Bard 1: starting off as a bard gives you proficiency in Dexterity, and Charisma saves, as well as three skills off the bard skill list, a.k.a. the entire skill list. we’ll use Performance to puppet our boy around, with Nature and Arcana to build him in the first place. you’ve got five levels, best of luck.

while you’re whittling, we can also bring up your Bardic Inspiration- you’ve got a couple d6s you can throw at a friend as a bonus action, and then they can use ‘em to improve an attack roll, save, or skill check in the next minute. you get those back on long rests.

also on the same time frame are your spell slots, which you use to cast Spells. Okuni’s a caster, so you can be a bit more liberal with her spell list than you are with most characters- most of the spells on the character sheet are my personal recommendations, or just ones I thought would be useful. if they’re vital for the build, I’ll bring them up here as they’re added. there aren’t any of those this level, but I do recommend picking up something like Identify- Okuni’s bio states multiple times how hip and with it she is, so she knows what’s going on a lot of the time.

2. Bard 2: second level bards are Jacks of all Trades, adding half their proficiency to any skill check they make that doesn’t add it, including your initiative check! you also learn a Song of Rest, adding a d6 to the healing your party does over short rests. standard issue, we’ve all seen it by now.

also, your bardic inspiration becomes Magical Inspiration, so now someone holding onto it can add their d6 to the damage or healing of a spell!

3. Bard 3: but I know that’s not enough uses for your inspiration, right? thankfully creation bards have another addition to it, the Mote of Potential. now when your allies use their inspiration on one of the three original effects, they get a bonus to boot! on a check, they can roll their inspiration twice and pick the higher number. on an attack roll, the die also deals whatever it rolled as damage to nearby enemies, and on a save they gain their roll in temporary hp! this practically turns your inspiration into a spell in its own right!

making your puppet also got… slightly easier, as you can now put on a Performance of Creation, creating any medium or smaller non-magical item as an action, with the only other limitation being your imagination, and your wallet. you can only create items with this feature that are worth 20 times your bard level or less- even a normal-sized puppet is worth 100g, so this hasn’t saved us too much time. it also only lasts a few hours, so you’ll still have to find a more permanent solution anyways. still, while it’s not a cure-all for our lack of puppetry, it does have a million and one uses besides! this recharges on long rests, or you can use a second level spell slot to use it again- just know that you can only have one summoned item at a time.

speaking of second level spells, Borrowed Knowledge is a great pick for Okuni, giving her proficiency in a skill of your choice for an hour, concentration free. again, she’s always in the know of the latest fads, so now you can make sure that’s true!

you also get expertise in two skills, doubling your proficiency bonus in Arcana and Performance checks. she’s good at dancing, that much is obvious- otherwise she wouldn’t be in this game.

4. Bard 4: fourth level bards get their first Ability Score Improvement, so improve that Charisma score for stronger spells and more inspiration. dancing better is a nice bonus.

if you’re really jonesing for a puppet by now, you can use something like Phantasmal Force to at least plant the idea of a puppet in someone’s head and have it hurt them that way. honestly sounds terrifying to me, even scarier than a real puppet beating me up.

5. Bard 5: fifth level bards have d8s for their inspiration now, as well as become a Font of Inspiration, recharging all spent inspiration uses on short rests as well as long ones! you also get third level spells now like Dispel Magic. demons like using magic, so you’d best spoil their fun.

6. Bard 6: sixth level bards get the Countercharm ability, and for once it’s good for the build. a lot of demons charm or frighten people, so now you can spend your action to give all your allies nearby advantage on saves against those effects. it only works for a round each time, so you’d have to spend each turn keeping the effect up- still, if you’re fighting something like Shuten-Douji, it’s a good idea to have on hand.

if you’d like to use your countercharm while also keeping the fight going, then good news! your puppet drought is over, and your cuppet runneth over thanks to an Animating Performance. as an action you can animate a large or smaller object and turn it into a Dancing Object for the next hour. you then have to use your bonus action each turn to control the puppet, but you can also give out inspiration at the same time.

you can bring out the puppet once a day, or by spending a third-level or higher spell slot.

7. Bard 7: seventh level bards get fourth level spells like Fabricate, letting you spend ten minutes to turn any kind of raw materials into processed goods- for example, a log into part of a puppet, perhaps. you can create a large or smaller object if you have enough material, though using metal shrinks down the possible puppetude to medium size. also, you need proficiency with the sorts of tools you’d have to use to make an item normally in order to make it with this spell, hence our focus on grabbing woodworking proficiency earlier and smithing later.

so yeah, during your next downtime, puppetry is just a spell away!

8. Bard 8: eighth level bards get another ASI, and we’re grabbing the Skilled feat for more proficiencies. you get the proficiency with Smith’s Tools I mentioned a second ago, as well as proficiency with Acrobatics in case your DM thinks that dexterity and dancing thing is as weird as I do, and History. you are history, after all.

9. Bard 9: at ninth level your song of rest grows to a d8, but more importantly you get fifth level spells. if you’re in a pinch, you can use Animate Objects instead of your usual puppetry to give your friend some backup- you can animate up to ten small objects, with bigger sizes doubling how many “objects” they count as for each size larger they are. that being said, they also use your bonus action to control, so trying to use both at once isn’t always the greatest idea. still, they make a good distraction if you need time to drag your bigger puppet out of the fight.

10. Bard 10: tenth level bards have a bigger inspiration die again, and you get another round of Expertise, this time doubling down on Religion and Nature. also, you get Magical Secrets- two spells from any spell list in the game. Legend Lore is a must for any bard, giving you the lowdown on whatever famous person or thing you’re faced with so you can dance appropriately. on the other hand Circle of Power is a must-have for combat, creating an aura around you that lasts up to ten minutes with concentration- during that time, friendly creatures (including you) have advantage on all saves against magical effects- furthermore, succeeding on that save prevents all damage instead of half if it’s that kind of save. demons like fireballs, puppets don’t. simple stuff.

11. Bard 11: with our last level of bard you get sixth level spell slots for stuff like True Seeing to see through demonic illusions and the like. though if I’m being honest we haven’t gotten too specialized yet- let’s fix that.

12. Paladin 1: moving over to paladin gives you a Divine Sense- spend an action up to five times a day to sense celestials, fiends, and undead within 60’ of you. you know the type and location, but not their identity. being able to sense demons feels pretty important for.. y’know, a demon hunter.

you can also Lay on Hands to heal an ally, you have a pool that scales with your level and it refills every long rest. worth noting, this does not work on constructs, so you’ll have to patch up your puppet the old-fashioned way.

13. Paladin 2: second level paladins get a Fighting Style, and with your Defense you get a +1 bonus to all types of armor. I know you don’t wear a lot, but I’d still call your first ascension fit light armor at minimum. also, since you’re attacking via puppet they aren’t “your” attacks, so none of them count for fighting styles.

they also don’t count for Divine Smites, which is problematic, but we’ll find a workaround soon enough. if you do end up using them though, you spend a spell slot when you hit something with a melee attack, dealing radiant damage that scales based on the slot’s level. also it deals extra damage against fiends, which is a nice bonus for a demon hunter.

speaking of spell slots you get another set of spells from being a paladin, but you’ll have to check the multiclassing rules for what slots you have when. for now you can perform Ceremonies and Detect Evil and Good, but you can swap around paladin spells every long rest, so don’t sweat over getting the perfect setup right away.

14. Paladin 3: at third level you devote yourself to defeating demons and other extraplanar monsters as a Watcher, giving you two kinds of Channel Divinity that you can use once per short rest. your Watcher’s Will gives most of your party advantage on intelligence, wisdom, and charisma saves for a minute, or you can Abjure the Extraplanar to send aberrations, celestials, elementals, fey, and fiends nearby running for up to a minute if they fail a wisdom save.

you also gain access to a pool of permanently prepared performances, like Alarm and Detect Magic. finally, your Divine Health makes you immune to disease.

15. Paladin 4: a fourth level paladin gets their own Ability Score Improvement, so power up your Charisma for stronger spells, channeled divinity, and a stronger puppet as well.

16. Paladin 5: fifth level paladins get an Extra Attack, but that only applies to you, not your puppet. on the plus side, you also get second level spells! now you can cast Magic Weapon more than once a day for your puppet. you can also See Invisibility to detect hidden demons, and use Moonbeam to expose them or other shapechangers.

17. Paladin 6: as a sixth level paladin you emit an Aura of Protection, adding your hefty charisma modifier to every save you make, as well as the saves of nearby friends. up until now you had a +0 in wisdom saves, so that’ll really come in handy!

18. Paladin 7: seventh level watchers also get the Aura of the Sentinel, adding your proficiency bonus to your and nearby allies’ initiative rolls. this technically isn’t adding the proficiency directly, so you get a 1.5x bonus!

19. Paladin 8: eighth level paladins get one last ASI, so let’s bump up your Dexterity so you’ll get hit less often, dance better, and be better with a dagger in case of emergencies.

20. Paladin 9: we finish our build by gaining access to third level paladin spells, including your subclass specialties, Counterspell and Nondetection. more importantly, you gain access to the spell Crusader’s Mantle, finally giving your puppet the chance to deal radiant damage. and so can everyone else within thirty feet of you, for that matter!

Pros & Cons

Pros:

while you don’t get counterspell until very late in the game, you’re great at using it- and dispel magic to boot. both spells use ability checks to counter magical effects, and wouldn’t you know it, bards are great at those! with a maxed out charisma modifier plus half proficiency, you have roughly a 50/50 shot of countering even a ninth level spell while only spending a third level one.

your decent dexterity plus your watcher aura makes you great at hitting first in a fight, and when you add in your puppet’s ability to speed you up and slow down enemies, and you’ll be running circles around them in no time.

while focusing your build so hard on your puppet does create some challenges, it also opens up some great adventuring opportunities. this one’s more a plus for your DM so they don’t have to start power-creeping all the magic loot- instead of getting a +1 sword, maybe you’ll get better metal for your puppet’s armor and raise its AC, or wood that conducts magic better and lets it stay animate for longer, or maybe new puppetry techniques that let your extra attack or divine smites carry over to it. basically, having a physical object you’ll be building up the whole adventure will give you and your dm new avenues to find fun in D&D.

Cons:

that last bit, of course, requires your DM to be flexible, so if you’re playing in adventurer’s league games or just have a new DM that wants to stick to the book, it’s going to cause a problem. by the time you reach level 20 the base stats for your dancing items are woefully outmatched by just about everything you could be facing, so maybe run this idea by your DM before committing to it.

we did what we could to fix up your soft stats, but the hard truth is you still only have 10 intelligence and wisdom. you get an aura of protection, sure, but not until level 17. in the meantime, you risk falling for illusions and mental games from your more otherworldly foes.

your puppet only lasts one hour, so keeping it up and running for longer periods of time will eat through your magic like nothing else. if you burn through every spell slot you have, you can keep him walking for 12 hours a day, which is nice, but that leaves you with almost no magic for anything else. basically, if you’re traveling a lot, invest in a cart. your 13 strength ass is not dragging him around the whole continent.

[youhideastar]

Fit for Purpose Deleted Scenes V: Jiang Cheng

Today's deleted scenes from Fit for Purpose deal with Jiang Cheng - a topic I know a lot of commenters were curious about. Other deleted scenes posts are linked in the masterpost. I hope you enjoy!

Jiang Cheng haunts Fit for Purpose like a ghost. He barely shows up “on screen”—his only significant appearances are in the Xuanwu Cave scene and subsequent rescue—but his expectations of WWX and WWX’s desire to meet them are a driving force of the story. A big reason WWX can’t accept LWJ’s love at first is that WWX feels he needs his family’s permission to have a life of his own, and he’s sure as hell not going to get it from JC; even if, ultimately, JC might be willing to accept WWX having that life, he’s not going to say it. In the end, WWX gets that permission from the only other surviving member of the family he was raised to serve: Jin Ling. But part of the reason Jin Ling’s permission “works” is that, when he speaks, JC is speaking through him:

“Idiot,” Jin Ling says again, rolling his eyes. It’s so familiar.

Wei Wuxian smiles. His vision is blurry with tears, and he doesn’t care. “Jin Ling?”

“What?” Jin Ling scowls as he says it; that, too, is so familiar it makes Wei Wuxian’s chest ache.

Only once WWX has been “released” from his duties as a beta (as he sees them) by JL and, by proxy, JC, can he accept the happiness he’s being offered by LWJ. (Btw, the discovery that I could get around JC’s emotional constipation by having JL say things that JC wouldn’t was life-changing. 🤣 I’m definitely using my newfound power for evil in future fics haha.)

Ultimately, I’m really happy with the way that JC looms over the story, discernable mostly secondhand or in glimpses, not seen or heard directly except once. But there was a period where I felt like that was a bug, not a feature.

There came a point where, to preserve the structure of the story (alternating present day with flashbacks) I needed to come up with one last flashback scene, which would be the final flashback chronologically (the JYL flashback, which is the final one, is the only one out of chronological order – it had to be that way). I convinced myself that that missing flashback scene needed to have to do with JC, precisely because he shows up so little. Plus, I knew readers would be very curious about what JC’s take on all the beta stuff was (and comments confirm this!) I rewatched the entire post-resurrection arc, trying to find a scene that I could use. Ultimately, I realized trying to feature JC was a mistake, and I went with the Episode 50 NHS scene instead, where WWX thinks about how NHS brought him back to life in order to use him. But I wasted a week of drafting trying to get JC to talk about his feelings, and here’s how it went:

First, a take on the scene where WWX and LWJ bow in the Jiang family shrine. Because this follows the “I do not want to be to Wei Ying what others have been”/So then what do you want to be to me? scene, I liked the idea of WWX very blatantly discounting the idea that he could possibly be marrying LWJ.

As they complete their bows in the Jiang family shrine and sit back on their heels, Wei Wuxian half-laughs under his breath as something occurs to him: three bows, in front of his—well, the fact that Jiang-shushu and Yu-furen aren’t his parents is only one of a long list of things that separates these three bows from a wedding, starting with the fact that Wei Wuxian isn’t qualified.

“Wei Ying.”

He turns. Lan Zhan is watching him patiently.

“It’s nothing,” he says, shaking his head. He’d been so cavalier about that when they were kids – messing with Lan Zhan’s forehead ribbon, trying to touch it all the time. He knows better now.

He wants to be careful with Lan Zhan, now.

JIANG CHENG SHOWS UP.

“Bad enough you go wandering around Lotus Pier like it belongs to you,” A-Cheng snarls, as Wei Wuxian scrambles to his feet. “But you come to disturb my parents, my sister, with this… this farce?”

Jiang Cheng, on the other hand, understands perfectly that this is meant to be a wedding.

“A-Cheng—”

“Don’t. You. Dare.”

WWX calling JC and JYL “A-Cheng” and “Jiejie” is one of the subtle but extremely key worldbuilding motifs. He gets that extra piece of intimacy, compared to canon… but oh, the price he pays for it.

“Jiang Cheng. Lan Zhan and I just came to pay our respects—”

“Is that what you call it?” A-Cheng looks away. “You always had to be so extreme. It’s not enough for you to abandon Yunmeng Jiang Sect and our family – you have to do it right in front of my parents, and expect them to bless this—this—”

“I’m not asking Yu-furen and Jiang-shushu to bless anything. We just came to light incense.”

“That’s not what I saw. You never had any shame. But you, Lan-er-gongzi – everyone says you’re so upright.”

JC thinks of WWX marrying mostly in terms of him leaving the sect (although he also calls a wedding involving a beta a “farce”). Hypocritical, since WWX has very much already been kicked out and made unwelcome! But a JC who was of only one mind about whether he wants WWX to come back would be, frankly, totally unrecognizable. The ambivalence is baked-in.

Ultimately, that scene was not contributing to the arc of the story for a number of reasons, starting with the fact that it was way too long, and it pulled the focus away too much from LWJ and WWX. JC has a way of taking over scenes that he’s in. 🤣 He’s so loud!

So then I’m like, okay, let’s do the climactic convo in Guanyin Temple. One advantage: it’s so salient to fans that I barely need to do any setup to establish where and when we are.

“Wei Wuxian.” The flickering light of hundreds of candles plays over A-Cheng’s face, taut with rage. A drop of blood falls from the wound on his chest onto the temple floor. “Do you want me to bow down in thanks for your selflessness? Should I put my face to the floor and apologize for not acknowledging your noble sacrifice—”

“It wasn’t any of those things,” Wei Wuxian says. His hands ache, clenched in his lap. “It wasn’t noble, or selfless, I didn’t do it to be acknowledged, I—it was my duty, A-Cheng, that’s all it w—”

“I don’t want your duty!” A-Cheng screams, his face a mask of pain. “I want—”

He chokes. Coughs. Blood trickles over his lower lip.

Before he can finish wiping it away, Jin Guangyao returns. There’s no time, then, for A-Cheng to finish what he meant to say.

It doesn’t make sense, Wei Wuxian thinks, remembering it later. What was the whole promise of the Twin Heroes of Yunmeng about, if not about duty?

I was pretty sure that it would be clear to readers that JC is saying he doesn’t want WWX’s duty, he wants WWX’s love. If I could have gotten this scene to write, it would have been a really nice complement to the final Jin Ling scenes – showing that WWX’s inability to understand that he is loved unconditionally ultimately sabotages his family relationships as well as his relationship with LWJ.

But the scene would not write, partly because JC is wrong. Yes, he wants WWX’s love, and wants WWX to stay with him and serve him out of love. But he also wants WWX’s duty. He wants WWX to keep his promises. He wants WWX to fill the role that society has ordained for him, just the way JC himself feels constrained to do, for all his life. Again: the ambivalence is baked-in.

And I trusted readers would know that – that they would have the same question WWX has at the end of this scene. But having WWX flag it both felt clumsy and failed to provide closure to the scene. And not flagging it at all, letting JC’s statement to unchallenged, would have damaged my credibility with readers who might think they were expected to take JC’s statement at face value.

Undeterred, I took another swing at Guanyin Temple.

“Wei Wuxian!” In Guanyin Temple, the flickering light of hundreds of candles plays over A-Cheng’s face, taut with anguish. “Do you want me to bow down in thanks for your selflessness? Should I put my face to the floor and apologize for not acknowledging your noble sacrifice?”

“A-Cheng. Stop,” says Wei Wuxian. He’s so tired. He wishes they’d never come here. “That wasn’t—it wasn’t noble. It was just… what I owed to Yunmeng Jiang—”

“What you owed? What you owed us was to stay!” A-Cheng snarls, eyes wet. His clenched hands rise to his chest. “That’s what it means to have a beta, they stay – A-Jie got married and left, we knew she would get married and leave, but you—we were supposed to be everything to you. You promised… we’d be everything to you.”

He looks so young, for a moment; breakable. Wei Wuxian aches.

Then the lines of age and pain carve themselves into his brother’s face again. “Your home, your family… that’s enough for every other beta. But not for the great Wei Wuxian,” A-Cheng finishes bitterly, as he turns away.

Wei Wuxian aches. “You were enough, A-Cheng—”

“No,” A-Cheng spits, low. “You had to have your heroics. You had to have him.” He jerks his head at Lan Zhan, who looks coldly back. “The great Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Laozu, could never have been just a sect leader’s subordinate. Every other sect has betas who act like a beta should act. Who know their place. I’ll never know what Yunmeng Jiang did to deserve you.”

I think this scene is on the right track, actually. But it raises issues that just cannot be resolved in a little half-page vignette. You can see me trying to bring the focus back to Wangxian at the end of this bit, but it’s not enough – JC is yet again taking up all the air in the room, bless his heart. And it would have been a distraction.

It was at this point that I realized that I didn’t need to shove more JC into the story, because he’s already so present, even if only by implication. And if readers were curious about his role, it wouldn’t do the story any harm to let them come to their own conclusions.

For what it’s worth, my take is that JC has no problem with the way that society treats betas – and why should he? He’s been raised to believe that this is all totally normal. And don’t forget, WWX’s sexual availability is framed by alphas and omegas as a benefit to WWX, something they’re jealous of, “oh, how lucky for you that you can have sex with whoever you want instead of just your spouse!” It’s not that he sees WWX being taken advantage of and is okay with it—he does not perceive WWX to be taken advantage of in the first place. And that makes sense, because neither does WWX! But, at the same time, JC loves WWX very much, and he demonstrates with his actions again and again that he doesn’t buy the idea that WWX’s life is worth less than his, or that it’s WWX’s purpose to sacrifice himself for JC. To me, that’s peak JC: do not expect him to challenge structural oppression, but by God, he will walk to hell and back on bare feet for the people he loves.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Tomorrow's batch of deleted scenes specifically focus on Wangxian.

[adiduck]

okay okay, one more guess

86’ ice n mav waking up in 22 for the first time. like getting hatched out of whatever lab or elsewhere they get pulled to

EVERYONE wants this scene and I refuse to write it because I genuinely have NO IDEA how the heck they convince these two that this is real and not some sort of kidnapping attempt or very strange hallucination/dream LMFAO we are all just going to accept that it works. In consolation, my friend, please accept the first scene with either of them as a POV character:

-

Ice isn’t sure what exactly he’s expecting when he and Mav walk into Top Gun thirty-three years in their own future.

It is emphatically not what he gets.

Next to him, Mav whistles, low and shocked. “Well, looks like you did pretty well for yourself,” he says.

Ice doesn’t answer. He is in a staring contest with a picture of himself, clearly older, in the front hallway of one of the most elite naval aviation schools in the country. Older him has four stars on his shoulders and is staring down the cameraman--and the viewer, presumably--like he is fully daring someone to comment.

What the fucking Christ? Nobody thought to warn him?

“Oh, hey, look, it’s that picture of us from the newspapers after Layton,” Mav says, and Ice drags his eyes away from--well, himself as the CINCPACFLT, no, COMPACFLT, COMPACFLT, they changed it--to look behind him at the picture literally right across from his official Navy portrait as a four-star Admiral. It is, indeed, the picture from the papers--the two of them, disheveled and hyped up on the adrenaline of surviving six MiGs all shooting at them at once, grinning fit to be tied and shaking hands.

“Good to know I’ve made it into your shrine,” Mav says, apparently kind of entertained. “They weren’t kidding when they said the future remembers us as a good team, huh?”

Ice shakes his head, shoulders unwinding a little in spite of himself. It’s really hard to be worked up at all this in the face of Mav’s cocky good cheer. “We’re going to be late,” he says, and turns away from the picture.

“We’re going to be late anyway,” Mav says, and takes two long strides to catch up to Ice. “Do we even know which way we’re going?”

“Other way,” says a voice--the same voice, but a little deeper, a slight gravel to it. Ice turns his head, and then snaps to attention and salutes, Mav next to him doing the same, as a figure he hadn’t really noticed before pushes off where he’s leaning against the corner and walks over to them. It’s Mav, but it’s not--older, for sure, with laugh lines around his eyes and cut deeper into his mouth. His hair’s cut a little different, and the color’s lighter--a dark gray, Ice realizes, as the light catches it in places. The slope of his eyebrows is a little softer, too, and the tilt of his mouth assessing. His eyes on them are the same though--sharp and green, taking them both in slowly, like he’s trying to decide what to do with them.

He’s wearing a Captain’s uniform, in the way that looks natural--like he’s been wearing it for years. Who knew Maverick Mitchell would ever make Captain?

Captain Mitchell stops in front of them now, returns the salute. And then he smiles, the same smile Ice is familiar with on a much older face, flashing slightly crooked teeth. “Lieutenants Kazansky and Mitchell,” he greets. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Next to Ice, Mav is practically vibrating out of his skin.

“No harm done, sir,” Ice says carefully. “We didn’t realize we were meeting you this early.”

“Oh, you’re not,” the Captain says. “I was never here.” He winks at Ice. “But Cyclone’s a hard ass, and if you wander down that way you really will be late. He’s down the right fork.” The Captain points.

“...Ah,” Ice says, voice going a little wry. “Thank you, sir.”

The Captain grins again. “Pretty sure it’s rude to tell your superior officer he’s full of shit even in your own head, Lieutenant Kazansky.” Ice freezes. The Captain laughs, and turns to go. “See you both later.”

“...That’s it?” bursts out of Mav’s mouth. He looks a bit startled after, like he didn’t mean to say it.

The Captain turns to look at Mav--at his younger self. For a moment they stare at each other, silent.

Then the Captain smiles again--different this time. A twist to his mouth. “That’s it, Lieutenant,” he says. “I’ll see you later.” And then he turns back around, rounds a corner in the hallway, and is gone.

For a moment, they’re both silent, standing alone in the hallway.

“How long was he standing there?” Mav explodes.

Ice sighs. “Does it matter?” He turns to go down the right fork.

“Yes, it matters,” Mav says, turning with him and taking two long strides to catch up to Ice. Ice smirks. Mav elbows him. “Shut it. But yeah, he was scoping us out.”

“He’s going to have to train us, and this is weird as shit,” Ice points out. “Makes sense to see how we’re taking it. He did point us in the right direction.”

“We don’t know that yet,” Mav grumbles.

Ice eyes him. “You think he sent us the wrong way on purpose?”

Mav grumbles, but doesn’t say he does. Ice shrugs, and for a bit they continue down the hallway until they find a plaque with numbers.

“Looks like this is the right way,” Ice says.

“Oh, fuck off,” Mav says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Ice snorts, and they keep walking.

“He’s not married or anything, you know,” Mav says, out of the blue. “Married to the job I guess.”

Ice hums. He hadn’t looked at his own file--there were more important things to know for his first day. They weren’t going to meet him, they’d been told, just Mav, and didn’t that make a lot of fucking sense now--

Anyway. Anyway. It’d seemed to him that there were some things he shouldn’t know yet about himself.

In hindsight, maybe the file would have been that warning he was missing when he walked in, Ice thinks wryly.

Mav shrugs. “Means Charlie and I don’t make it. Bit of a downer.”

Ah. Ice glances over at him, nudges their shoulders together. “Maybe you can ask him what happened--preempt whatever the issue was.”

“Maybe,” Mav says. “Naw, but I’m excited to meet Bradley!” He turns, grinning. “Did you see that? Goose’s kid! He became a pilot! Good enough to be on this mission, even. Have you met him back in our time?”

Ice has not met Bradley Bradshaw. He’s seen him, once--in his mother’s arms at Goose’s funeral, dressed in a little black suit and crying because he didn’t understand, because everyone around him was sad, because he missed his dad and didn’t get yet why he hadn’t come back.

Goose was probably away a lot as far as Bradley was concerned. Ice wonders if he understands even a month later that his dad will never come home.

“I haven’t,” Ice admits. “Guess I’ll be doing this a bit backwards.”

“He’s a great kid,” Mav says, smiling in a way that feels--strange. Not forced, per se. Sad. Wistful. Still fond. “He looks just like Goose, really--even at four. And, uh, a bit older now, obviously.” He trails off, smile falling off his face. Bradley Bradshaw is now older than Nick “Goose” Bradshaw would ever be. 

“Damn, but Goose’d be proud,” Mav mutters eventually, quietly.

“I’ll bet,” Ice says, and Mav falls silent for real, lost in thought. Ice clenches his jaw, knocks their shoulders together again. Mav jostles like he’s waking up, gives Ice a distracted-looking smile.

Ice doesn’t know what to say. He never has, about this. He’d barely managed to scrape ‘I’m sorry’ out of the core of him the first time, and that was the least Mav had deserved.

He doesn’t have to figure it out now, fortunately. In front of them looms an office door, Vice Admiral Beau “Cyclone” Simpson on a simple plaque outside.

“Ready?” Ice asks.

Mav snorts. “Born ready,” he says, and does the honors of knocking.

“Come in,” a man calls out.

Here we go, Ice thinks, as Mav reaches for the doorknob, pushes it open for them to walk through. Fire or clear.