#I wanted to see what people were talking about in the tag and it was all gifs of Jade and Kit

[animeyanderelover]

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, clinginess, paranoia, abduction, Nsfw, masturbation, dubcon, oral sex, size kink, praise kink, mirror sex, ropes, handcuffs, overstimulation, breeding kink, afab reader

Tags: @lovley-valentine7

Nsfw Hc's

🩵​I feel like fanfic writers don't talk enough about the fact that this man must be so touch-starved. His Infinity is activated all the time, people cannot touch him unless he allows it. So the amount of clinginess that he exhibits with his darling is perhaps in that regard justified. A dam is broken the moment that he falls in love with you and the desire to touch and to be touched is flowing freely out of him. Smothering hugs, suffocating kisses, hands constantly all over you. It's a daily life that you are forced to endure from the moment his obsession blossoms. It's excessive but in the beginning it is not sexual. There's much that Gojo has to do as of now still with his mind filling with paranoia. Your safety has to be ensured, potential enemies have to be obliterated, all competition must disappear. As much sweetness comes with his infatuation, the stress always follows closely and doesn't allow any amorous thoughts in his mind just yet. A semblance of calmness only settles once you are in his apartment, stuck and safely tucked away. Only then is there free space in his head for thoughts and feelings that are much more erotic and intimate as a new desire manifests.

🩵​Gojo initiates it, tries to do so at least. Hands slide under your shirt, tracing over the cups of your bra whilst his lips travel down to your neck, smothering it with rough kisses. Only that he stops whenever you tense up or push him away, blue eyes filled with a hunger that he tries to hold back. For now your unwillingness holds him back though it will eventually not be a free pass to use anymore. A part of Satoru wants you to reciprocate, wants to see that you yearn for him as much as he does for you. He is not delusional enough to ever genuinely believe that though. He tries to be satiated with the kisses and the hugs you reluctantly tolerate, with jerking himself off but it is not enough. Not in the long run. What he needs isn't something his own hands can provide him with and the longer you refuse, the pushier and needier you grow in return. Frustration bubbles up within him as something is denied from him, something he desperately needs if his painfully hard boner is anything to go by. It will happen, it is inevitable. A realisation you cannot deny yourself until eventually you allow it out of fear to see what he would do if you were to continue to push him away.

🩵​Still, your reluctance is hard to ignore and almost threatens to disturb Gojo the first time that he takes you. It is that reluctance that results in the speed he always claims you forever after. Within his home he makes free use of all the space that he has as he ends up fucking you wherever space is available. There is at one point no room left where he hasn't undressed you and slams his aching cock into you. The kitchen counter, the shower, the bathtub, the couch or even the floor are witnesses to long and intense sex between him and you, mixed fluids always staining the surface by the end of it all. His tongue is always eager and fast to enter you the moment your panties are gone, pushing greedily deep within your plush and hot walls, his hot breath fawning over your sensitive pussy as he eats you out like a starved mutt. Your reluctance would be poison for a situation he needs to be intimate and filled with mutual desire which is why he resorts to the strategy where he doesn't even give you any time to properly think. Instead his large hands squeeze your hips greedily as he pushs your pussy closer to his face as he forces an orgasm out of you without giving you any time to process.

🩵​Overstimulation is common and constant as first his tongue and later his long cock force you into orgasm and moments of only bliss and no thoughts. He loves fucking you out of your mind but not because he feels sadistic nor because he plans to degrade you. No, it is simply because in this state you just give in to your desire and reciprocate his own needs. It is not perfect, not yet what he wishes for the both of you to have but it is the best he can get for now and so he latches onto it eagerly. Every plea, every whimper of his name sends electricity straight into his pulsing dick, his hips snapping against yours almost painfully as shallow and rapid pants escape his lips, his hot breath fawning your face. His greed tires you quickly as your head starts pounding and your legs start hurting yet any begging of yours for him to stop is cut off by his lips muffling all process, by his husky voice telling you that you can take more as he starts thrusting faster into you, pushing you over the edge once more. He leaves you so exhausted by the end of it all that you have little to no strength left to get angry at him or to say anything that would ruin the blissful experience he just shared with you.

🩵​He resorts to physical restriction during times where you are difficult. His own strength is more than enough to restrain you yet he prefers to have them all over your body, reverently running over every curve and inch of your figure. That is how your wrists end up cuffed or tied to the bed as you lose half of your ability to defend yourself even just the tiniest bit, your legs spread apart with ease to reveal to Satoru's blue eyes what he needs the most in that moment. All the tugging and desperate wriggles of your hands to free them often result in your skin being raw by the end of it all, a burning stinging located within your wrists. His own lips always press kisses all over the raw skin as a silent apology whenever he releases your hands, a tiny spark of guilt in his eyes. He discovers his kink for mirror sex by accident whilst fucking you in front of one in the bathroom and glancing at the reflection. The different angles reflected in the glass and even the fact that you can see within the reflection how you get fucked turns him on. He starts ordering an entire bunch of mirrors, places them everywhere and always fucks you in a position where you have a perfect view of the many reflections staring back at you.

🩵​His strategy of pushing you relentlessly into euphoria after euphoria works as you often end up downright delirious. Otherwise you would have noticed one thing much earlier, something that worries you quite a lot the moment you finally realise it. Satoru never pulls out. He doesn't use any protection as that would rub him of the pleasure and the feeling of plunging into your warm walls and he never pulls out whenever he feels his balls tightening either. No, instead you notice that he always makes sure to bury himself inside of you, the tip of his cock nearly kissing your womb as he lets out a choked moan as he shoots his load deep within you. Filled with a dread of what this could mean you confront him quickly about this, question him why he never pulls out of you. He hesitates, a reaction that has your heart pounding nervously when he is faced with your own discomfort. Instead blue eyes land on your stomach, an answer enough already before he eventually admits that he has been thinking a lot about a child with you lately. For now it is only a fantasy as he still allows you to take the pill but you should know that the more you deny him, the more he will end up wanting it.

[cheeseceli]

Late wait

Pairing: idol!Lee Know × Gn!reader (established relationship)

Genre: fluff, domesticity, drabble

Request: Lee know with a "waiting for us" kinda vibe. Just being together in their own place with lots of domestic fluff. Dancing whenever, seeing movies whenever...

Warnings: mentions of food, Minho is an idol, the cats and the boys are here as well, reader and him live together

A/n: I simply love to write domestic moments | daily click

Minho finds it funny how the most beautiful things in life are always the simplest.

Coming from someone whose life is full of luxuries, he could understand why someone would be skeptical about his statement, but he couldn't be more truthful than that.

He already saw thousands of different people, dressed in fancy suits and drank expensive wine. The places he already went to were sometimes covered in gold, and if not, they'd have a red carpet and sculptures everywhere. He's not going to lie and say these things are bad, or that he despises them. On the contrary, actually. However, when you live a life of "too much", you learn how to appreciate what is simple.

His cats stepping on his face to wake him up. All the times he went somewhere random to camp. Seungmin's burnt barbecue and Felix' brownies. You. All the things that made his life easy.

As much as he loves all those things, maybe he should highlight you a little bit more. It's only fair, since you are the one who plays the major role in making him feel alive.

When Minho thinks about you, he thinks about how he loves to wake up early before some morning schedule and see how you're sleeping peacefully next to him. You always ask him to wake you up before he goes, but he never finds the strength in himself to disrupt your dreams. You have a whole collection of little notes he put next to the bed, apologising for not saying bye, but promising to bring food whenever he's back.

He also remembers dance nights. As he is a professional dancer and an idol, he thought he wouldn't want to move a single muscle the moment he gets home. However, whenever he comes home to you singing some random song on the radio, it's impossible to not hold your hand and start swaying according to the rhythm. You don't know how to dance. When he's with you, he suddenly forgets how to as well. In the end, it's just two fools in love, dancing how your heart tells you to.

Movie nights where none of you had luck picking what to watch, so you'd just sleep mid the boring show. Cooking homemade dinner and noticing you ran out of all the ingredients, so you have to run to the market. Visiting his parents every Sunday. Staying in the entire weekend with the cats because that's so much better than going out.

There are dozens of little moments like those that Minho could talk about. None of them was particularly special - they were all things that happened every day. Maybe that was the magic of it. Living was easy with those moments, with you.

Now he was coming back home. The day was full of different events. Tiring, extravagant, but nice. He was smiling. But now he only wanted to come home to you. He knew you were staying up late so you could welcome him and ask him how the day was. And as much as you've waited, he'd hug you with his entire being and never let go.

Masterlist | you'll probably like: kiss me (more)

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143 @sleepyleeji @jinnie-ret @sheraayasherrecs @rockstarkkami @urlocalmultigroupfan (those I couldn't tag are in bold)

Dividers by @adornedwithlight | images 1, 2 and 3

[in-finitives]

originally wrote a bunch of other hcs down in tags because that's where i live but then i realized only 30 or so get put on post and then they delete so here's my addendums to save for myself

piper n reyna's relationship:

reyna's story is one of accepting expectation and living up to it.

piper's story is one of denying expectation and contradicting it, because she doesn't like what comes with it / people not liking her because she's something other than piper (i.e. people r friends w her because she's her father's daughter, her father's money, her mother's beauty, etc). piper is sick of other people controlling her life, deciding what she does and doesn't get, and feeling like she hasn't earned anything

piper is originally weird about the relationship for obvious coming into sexuality reasons + it feels like another expectation. another thing her mother gave to her, another thing built on other people's expectation

reyna is against the relationship because it goes against her duty. like she mentions sometime in SoN, praetors get in relationships with each other because it's good for rome or whatever. can you imagine if she was dating a greek?? that would feel like a complication to her duty

AND

piper's read enough myths to know about pretty women who betray their families for the hero. she is NOT going to be one of them, feeding into her whole traitor-dad arc

but as their arcs grow in anti-parallel, they both come to admire each other

piper admires how reyna is so independent, so strong, and so sure of herself. reyna admires how piper doesn't concede into what other people want.

reyna starts finding an identity outside of CJ and outside of her duty & symbolically, being in a relationship with piper signifies doing something for herself rather than doing something for rome

piper realizes that by automatically going against expectation is still allowing it to control her and she should instead listen to her own feelings

lowk should've been what rr did with jason/piper in the first place if he wanted it to stick but oh well

back in cj

WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT HOW JASON LOOKS LIKE LUKE AND WHAT THAT DOES TO ANNABETH!!!

but first some other points

op and others had good points about annabeth that were tragically heartbreaking so i'm going to switch focus to jason

can you fuckin imagine jason at this time

percy refuses to help hera and is literally taking the gods by the throat, but jason probably doubles down and is trying to appease the gods

he thinks this is retribution. he thinks they've messed up

he thinks if he is a good hero, reyna can come back

and then 6 months later annabeth shows up

guys. Guys

jason looks exactly like luke. blonde general with a scar on his lip ?!

annabeth looks at him like she's seen a ghost

she's thinking of a traitor brother, a brother who was too good to be true, who was kind and friendly to all the outsiders, who was the leader of camp, who betrayed her

and she sees jason ... who is exactly all that

and in canon we always get her saying jason is 'too perfect' and unnerving to her

BECAUSE HE REMINDS HER OF LUKE!

and can you imagine if she hears his last name and goes oh. Oh

can you imagine jason finding out she knew his sister

the sister who (he thinks) abandoned him

the sister who has grown a new sister

a new family, with a boy who looks exactly like him

he's been replaced. he's been replaced, and this girl has never been abandoned by his sister like he was

and annabeth is standing there, now perfectly aware that she has replaced this kid in a family that wasn't supposed to be her's, but was, in a family that loved her and cared for her, and she sees the kid who has nothing, not even a best friend

CAN YOU FUCKING IMAGINE

annabeth probably originally distrusts him when she doesn't exactly remember the whole luke/thalia thing, jason is probably jumping to get on the quest because if he can please the gods he can get reyna back

also [later] jason finding out that percy and annabeth has done more for demigods by being rebellious little freaks than he has his whole life despite being the perfect hero

can you imagine what that does to him

'oh you got demigod children claimed and recognized by sitting on the gods throne and sassing them ... you were offered immortality, and i wasn't?'

even though he was the perfect hero

even though he did everything they ever asked

AND THEN

then he meets reyna again and the one person who shared his identity, the one person who shared his duty, has. ... escaped?

can he escape too?

but he's son of jupiter, he's never been more than that, how could he possibly escape?

then he finds out reyna has now met his sister ... and it feels like everyone he knows has met her except him

why wasn't it him? if he was son of jupiter, perfect hero, why wasn't he in chb? why leave him where he is useless, was he not good enough the first time?

we see reyna escape at the end. reyna realize she is more than a hero, realize reyna has learned she's not just the gods' chess piece. we also see her go through the same arc percy did in pjo if she's not at the final battle → sometimes being the hero is not about stepping up, but learning when to step down. she may not have been at the battle, but she empowered others to have won it (also works nice thematically w her powers)

reyna escapes. jason never does. he stays at cj, too scared to find out who he is. when leo (allegedly) dies, jason is thinking, it should've been me. he's the hero. so he stays at cj. he stays because what if what he finds is something he doesn't like, what if who he is, is not who he is supposed to be?

makes toa all the sadder

anyways yeah that's my 2 cents

Thinking about a concept where Juno swaps Annabeth and Reyna instead.

Annabeth and Reyna are fine, because they’ve always been able to handle just about anything the gods threw at them. Piper accidentally has her gay awakening via fake memories of a relationship with Reyna and is really confused why her girlfriend is acting so weird. Reyna and Leo bicker non-stop because even without her memories Reyna knows what she’s doing and she’s very used to getting people to listen to her but Leo will not be serious for even one second.

Percy would start fist fighting the gods in the first week. Jason has never been more stressed in his life because he never even wanted to be praetor but it was manageable while he was doing it with Reyna and now he’s alone. What the hell is he supposed to do.

By the time Annabeth shows up at Camp Jupiter, Jason is so relieved someone knows what they’re doing that he immediately asks her to be praetor, now if she’ll excuse him he needs to go have an anxiety meltdown in a corner somewhere

[reidingandallthat]

cranberry juice

spencer isn't sure what to do in his days of addiction but there's one familiar stranger that's present to help him forget, if only for one night, or maybe more.

words: 3.6k spencer reid x undercover!reader tags: well, dilaudid addiction, dark inner thoughts, nausea, mentions of withdrawal symptoms, alcohol, talks of a bar that's commonplace for criminals ig lmao, all for the plot, metaphors using space time continuum, some other nerd talk, yk the usual. reader is supposed to be an undercover agent, but here there's not much mention of it because this is very heavily spencer's pov. very much apologize if there's any inaccuracies with anything.

a/n: EXTREMELY nervous to post this hahaha. this comes from that one post i made, and i have too many ideas for undercover!reader if this even works out, this is purely to quench my need for this idea to happen.

The music in the club- though Spencer thinks it deserves a more modest name- was soft and slow, almost jazz, as the only couple on the dance floor clung to each other, swaying slightly to the music, the other part of the club which isn't so quiet is riddled with people surrounding tables and gambling rich men. It's not a common sight to see him drinking, less so to see him slurring through his words as he orders another one. His head hung low, leaning on the bar on his elbow, his eyes barely opening, a blinding headache obstructing his vision and line of thoughts. Possibly why he was out drinking. 

The bartender gives him a look, obviously sensing that this isn't a common occurrence for the gentleman in front of her, but she obliges. 

“If you wanted to get shit-faced drunk, this ain't the place for it,” She says in quiet contempt as she slides the glass over to him, but wears a smile as she composes herself again.

Spencer already knew that, but this was where his car had taken him, and he really didn't wanna be home. 

Truth was, Spencer hadn't had much to drink, all his symptoms were of withdrawal. 

Insomnia, dilated pupils, nausea, lightheadedness etc etc. he could list a few more. Spencer laughs as all the things he has read about addiction appear like check marks in his brain. None of the papers ever tell how agonizing it is to just exist, how the drug becomes the only thing you need, but the only thing you also don't want. How it feels to want to rip away your own skin, to bash your head against a wall until you feel the familiar pinch of the needle being injected. 

He should have known this would happen. 

When the hours of the night felt too long he thought of driving away, maybe his home was the problem. It reminded him too much of that night. Even in the car he felt like he needed to be out, his thoughts immediately thinking where he could get a dose, how he needed to buy another empty injection, he's used the other one more than twice. He should have known it was his own brain, the one thing he can never escape, it's always been too ahead of him, too fast.

He should have known the need would not go away just because he's away, the goosebumps, the torture would not stop, that he would need something to satiate himself. Even the warnings of driving while under the influence wasn't enough to stop him. 

So here he was, barely aware of where he was walking in, sitting on a chair, his head down, pressed to the wooden table. It's his second drink (that he isn't even halfway through), but sleep hasn't greeted him.

Spencer thinks of things to distract him, entropy, a measure of disorderliness of a system and he wonders how much he would measure on that scale. The world is leaning towards entropy every day, and maybe his callousness today has contributed to that metric, however illogical that thought might be.

It's when he feels the air surrounding him change when he thinks of gravity. Gravity isn't a force, according to Einstein, something people always find fascinating when he randomly rambles about it. It's a “force” caused by the curvature in space time, this is where he loses most people, often ending with someone stopping him as he tries to explain what is a space time continuum.

He lifts his head to see a blurry figure, his eyes adjusting to the light. He'd been sitting in a corner so as to not be noticed, so he's sure his company knows they're not welcome. 

But he's suddenly unsure about his previous claim when he sees you, your head looking at him sideways, chin resting on your shoulder, your body turned towards the bar. You have a curious look on your face, but if he's being honest, it's more amused than concerned.

“Tough night?” You ask, averting your head towards the bar as the bartender comes over to ask your order, a smirk on her face as if she knows something he doesn't. 

“What's your poison?” You ask again as you hand tell the bartender your order quietly enough that he can't make it out.

Spencer doesn't bother to answer, his brain too foggy to be polite, his tongue too heavy to retort.

“Oh, c’mon, talk to me. I'm bored.”

You say again, the amusement laced through every word which makes him more annoyed. 

“Please.” He mutters, not feeling the need to clarify his request, he has no interest in putting up an act with a stranger, it's hard enough to socialise when he's sober, this is hell.

You don't budge, though he feels the glass he's been clutching lightly being taken from his hands. That catches his attention.

He sits up, head still heavy as his eyes squint to let his pupils contract, light dilates your pupils to let as much light as it can into your eyes when there's darkness, a fact running through his brain, a common occurrence.

The glass is returned to his hand, well, another glass but it holds a clear liquid. He takes a sip and grimaces, it's water. 

Drink the water, alcohol dehydrates you-

He pushes the water away, not keen on listening to himself anymore.

“What's your problem with water?” The stranger asks again, and he hates it. Her voice is nice, too nice for his self- destructive mind right now, and he wants her gone.

“What's your problem in general?” He snaps as he takes the water and gulps it down and extends it again for a refill. He's not very aware of his decisions tonight.

From his periphery, he thinks he sees you smirk, taking a bite out of the cherry in your drink, hiding it as much as you can. He can't tell why the action seems familiar, but it is. 

The bartender and you share a look as she takes the shorter whiskey glass and exchanges it with a tall glass of water, and leaves to attend to the other customers.

He thinks of starting a conversation, but he glances at you again and hides another frown. You were pretty, he thinks, and he hides a frown. The day I choose to wallow in my sadness. 

“I didn't know they let pretty people in here.” You speak again, addressing him directly as you drink from a straw. He notices the drink to be magenta, too similar to cranberry juice. She's not drinking, he notes.

He frowns at your comment, genuinely confused, for two reasons. Firstly, he looks like hell, he knows that. Eyes bagged into his sockets, his clothes unwashed for days. And secondly,

“How would you be here then?” He asks, his head tilted in confusion.

You're caught off guard, though he can't seem to figure out why. 

There's no hint of teasing, or amusement in his question, and it feels like a stab in the gut (in the best way possible) when you realise it,

“I can't figure out whether or not you're flirting or you just genuinely asked me that. And I don't know which would be better for my mental health.”

He's confused again, “How would my flirting affect your mental health?” He asks and he hears a laugh. 

Again, it's a nice sound and he hates it. He hates that it's nice.

“Oh, you're adorable.” You say, your hand reaching up to remove a piece of hair hanging over his eyes. He doesn't move away, he usually would, but his actions are a bit delayed and before he can register it, you're getting up and leaving.

He discovers he's disappointed, which surprises him. He hadn't spoken much to you, maybe that's why. Or maybe he liked nice, even in the midst of his self loathing spiral.

He's turning away to call to the bartender again, to bring him a glass of- who knows what. 

He might know all about alcohol, how they're made, their advantages, and disadvantages but he doesn't have much experience with many of them. Nor is he familiar with any of the names. What even is there in a Daiquiri?

But he feels that same dip in his space again, space time continuum, and he looks to see you there again, holding now what looks to just be an orange liquid in a martini glass.

“First cranberry, now orange. You do know you're in a bar?” He retorts with too much sass than he would usually, but he sensed you welcome the spar.

“What am I supposed to do? Take body shots off of you or drown myself in my own misery?” You say casually and it makes him want to laugh a little.

“Not off of me.” He mumbles, taking another sip of his lukewarm water, though he didn't complain. He can hear Morgan say, “Oh, you've got jokes now?”

“Too many germs?” He only nods and continues drinking his water when he jumps at a sudden loud sipping noise, he sees the orange liquid coming to an end in your glass as you sip loudly through the straw. 

He composes himself and answers properly, some semblance of manners peeking through,

“Not particularly off of me. Buy you shouldn't do that off of anybody. Did you know kissing is more sanitary than handshakes?”

He asks and you have that incredulous look again, followed by an amused one,

“I can't tell again. If you're just talking or flirting.”

He frowns, “No, well- I just told you something factual.” Another sip.

You laugh again and he leans in slightly, not consciously, trying to get closer to the sound. 

“You're a rare breed, Mr….” The sentence hangs as a question, you're asking his name. 

He's suddenly aware again of his surroundings. He's at an unknown place, and if he's a good profiler he knows this isn't an honest bar. Not that the neighborhood was known for its safety. 

He stays quiet but you quickly say, “That's alright. You don't tell me, I don't tell you.”

The bartender is back again, now pouring a yellow liquid into your martini glass and he must not have realised he was looking so intently because the bartender raises her eyebrows at him, as if asking if he wants some too. He nods, quite shyly, and brings his glass forward. 

He takes a sip, mango.

“But you shouldn't come in here with that gun so,” you gesture, “up front in here. You're an outsider, and you look like hell. No offense.”

He glances down at his holster and sees the gun, and thinks back to when Penelope had said,

“It's like they gave Bambi a gun. Said with love, of course.”

He knew it was said with love, but the feeling felt more pronounced as you gave your warnings.

“They don't like cops here?” he asks, fully aware he would never actually introduce himself as one, but he thought the title to be hidden enough for the place he was in. 

“So he reveals his profession, I wonder what’s next…” another exaggerated sip, this time he laughs, getting familiar with the strangers’ antics. 

He thinks back to why he's here in the first place as his conscious mind slowly comes back. Spencer had felt the urge again, he was angry at himself. Genius with an eidetic memory, and a few molecules of a  carbon compound take over him. He threw the vial on the couch, still too afraid to break the bottle, and stormed out of the house. It was as if he knew he should come here, the bar was not on his way to work, or on his usual roads. But he was still here, and he felt too comfortable for this to be his first time here. 

He retches over nothing and immediately sees a bucket being handed to him, and the feeling of mortification washes over him.

“I've been here before, haven't I?” He asks before retching into the bucket again, throwing up the mango juice he had just drank. More shame and guilt accompany his embarrassment but his head hurts too much for him to get up.

“It's good you chose the corner,” he only now registers your hand on his shoulder, rubbing circles to provide comfort, and it is comforting. 

“We've met before, yesterday?” he asks again, and she smiles.

“It's alright. It was a short visit. I only asked you your name and you well… you don't need to know. We went to the nearby park. I got you an uber home.” she laughs and this time he does say it,

“It's nice. Your laugh. You have a nice laugh.” his head is hung low, thinking over his circumstances. 

He didn't see your reaction, but he wasn't too eager to know anyway. 

You were pretty, he was too aware of that, he likes your laugh and the first two times you've met him, he was once too out of it, and the second time he threw up. Great. 

“I'm really sorry to inconvenience you, I didn't mean to bother you. I'm sorry-”

“No, no- thats alright. Its good to have some entertainment. I just feel bored here.”

This time he laughs, “Me throwing up is entertainment for you?”

“Tch. you really are bad at this  flirting thing.” Her lips curl into a smile, and he returns the gesture as much as he can. 

Spencer excuses himself to the washroom to clean up, and god it is not a sight to see.

He thinks back to your previous comment, didnt know they let pretty people in here.

They do let them in, but that wouldnt be a problem for him today. He washes his face, another wave of nausea passing through and he tries to think of things that would distract him.

Space time continuum, more commonly known as space-time, the mathematical model where three dimensions of space and one dimension of time fuse together to make a four dimensional model. Large masses, like earth bend space time, “gravity” is felt strongest when spacetime is curved the most. There's no force of gravity, matter tells spacetime how to curve, and curved space time leads matter to an end point. 

Two people could walk the same distance in parallel lines with no intention of ever seeing each other, to just follow a straight path, but the curved space time will cause their meet. It's inevitable. 

You sit cross legged, well- your ankle resting on the other thigh as you scribble away on a lone piece of paper, and Spencer recognises it as a crossword as he takes the seat next to you. You're not at the bar anymore, you've moved to a booth. He had come by to say good-bye, but he couldn't help but comment,

“adjudge, across 10 will be deem.” He says and for the first time, he sees a questionable look, you don't say anything and just hand the puzzle back to him and say,

“I'll time you.”

Spencer wasn't one to boast about his intelligence, but at the moment, he felt like the cockiest bastard in town. 

Halfway through the puzzle, his mind coming up with answers faster than he can write them, he hears a quiet ‘what the fuck’ being muttered right next to him and he chuckles. He pushes his pen down hard enough to make a sound against the wooden table as he finishes the last word and slides the paper to you.

The look on your face is laughable, so he does laugh, after god knows how long. 

You take the paper and check it over and after a few minutes you look over at him again and he's laughing again. 

“What the fuck?” you ask, but you don't give him time to answer through his giggles,”Dude, it's been like 7 minutes. that one took me 25 minutes.” You look back at the paper again, as if that would quest your curiosity, “and I thought I was fast.” You lean back, your mouth still open in surprise. 

“25 minutes isn't bad, pretty quick for this puzzle. Don't judge yourself by my standard, I have an eidetic memory. Sorry.” 

“No, no. Never be sorry for being too smart. Atleast you're not a dick about it.” You thank the bartender as she gives you yet another drink, this time it's pink. 

“I’d say what I just did was a dick move, I was flaunting.” He reasons as he observes your drink for a second,

“No, what you did was cool. As annoyed as I am about it.” You defend him, and take a look at your watch.

“People are usually just annoyed. I haven't been described as cool by many people,” he takes a pause, “actually by no one.” Spencer notices your actions and senses some suspicion, but he shakes it off. You must have ordered again when he wasn't paying attention.

“I'd beg to differ,” you take a sip of your drink and say, “I have more if you have time…” The end of the sentence was meant as a question and Spencer nodded his head. He has three weeks worth of personal time. All he has now is time. you rummage through your bag for more unfinished crossword puzzles. Most of them are 90% done, just two or three empty spaces. 

“Chemist lab equipment, 10 words. That's easy, you can do that.” He points out,

“I've tried!! I literally can't figure it out. The only clue I have is that there's an e in it. A vowel.”

“Think about it.” He pushes.

“I asked for your help.” You complain but he still doesn't relent,

“I am helping!” He snaps back but quickly says, “Alright, I'll give you a clue, it starts with a C.”

Your head tilts as you go into deep thought and Spencer suppresses a chuckle when he sees recognition pass over your face,

“Centrifuge?” You ask tentatively,

“YES!” He claps his hand and you both laugh again and this goes on for a while. 

You ask him answers to empty crossword clues and he gives you a few more hints to get it right. There were some that even he couldn't figure out quickly, which were met with teasing from your end. He welcomed it, he was used to friendly teasing, he worked with Morgan for god's sake. A significant amount of time must have passed because you glanced at the clock again and this time, the same cranberry drink was in your hands and he couldn't help but ask,

“Why are you drinking so many juices?”

“We’re in a bar, genius. You're the weird one who's not drinking.” 

“I was drinking. You stopped me.” You did stop him. And you didn't once ask him what was going on with him. No concerned questions, no I can help you. 

“No, you were drowning in your misery.” And as if you could read his mind, “And I don't think you'd appreciate alcohol addiction too.” 

Too. 

Spencer couldn't understand why you weren't telling him that he should stop, that what he's doing is wrong, why you weren't warning him or shaming him but you speak up again,

“I assume you came here for a reprieve. I don't need to know the specifics to figure it out. Though you shouldn't use alcohol for your reprieves. Not a good alternative.” 

You shake your head in mock disappointment, and take another exaggerated sip. Spencer notes that you do that whenever you're worried you won't get a response, as a way to fill the silence. Profiler.

“What do you suggest? Juice?” He asks, gesturing to your glass and you laugh again, and he again thinks it's nice. But this time he doesn't say it out loud.

“So, what other things are you annoyingly good at?” You ask and he lists out too many things in his head, things people tell him he's the expert at. He doesn't agree with them all the time, but there is one thing he knows he's good at. 

“Chess” He answers.

You chuckle, “Figures.” You think this is probably the fifth time he's missed the cue of flirting but then you rethink how this is probably how he flirts, or just talks. Genuine earnestness. No twisted words to mask his intentions and a strange warmth fills your chest.

Maybe a little company for a while everyday won't hurt.

“So, same time tomorrow?” You ask as you gather your things above the table and put them in your bag and he's startled by the question to answer it immediately. But he registers it and says,

“Uhh, for what? Chess?” 

“Yes. You're gonna teach me. Because right now, I have to go.” You say hurriedly and pat his cheek before leaving and he thinks of all the things he had to say 

I don't know if I'll be here tomorrow.

Where would we find a chess set?

What if he's too out of it to make it here?

What should he wear? 

He doesn't even know what time it was.

What's your name?

How would I find you?

Gravity, Spencer thinks.

All those questions are unanswered as you become impossible to find in the nearly empty bar, but he thinks

I'll ask later. 

Same time, tomorrow.

[mandalhoerian]

Repost because tumblr's tags were broken yesterday and it ate my post up 😞 Spoilers and translation notes for Rafayel's intertidal zone & analysis because it kinda floored me, I was just as a blank page as he was throughout this. I had to watch it like 5 times to understand what the story was saying and dig into chinese and japanese versions of this to piece together what was really happening. It may be my idiot brain not getting it and maybe it was like the easiest thing to understand for you but. Yeah. I may be just dumb LMFAO AND!!!! There's also a theory of mine into how Rafayel is actually able to read mc's mind/wishes through their lemurian bond, so stay tuned for that I guess

EDIT: correcting some transcriptions of chinese characters and the translations. sorry about that! google couldn't transcribe it correctly. for clarity's sake i will also include original screenshots. please tell me if anything is wrong!

EDIT 2: Check out part 2 to this as well for stuff I missed!

So Rafayel’s whole deal in this memory, I believe, is dependency. Like, too much intensity, too much need, too much fear -- about scaring her off, about what he sees himself possibly becoming in the future, overall just being too reliant on mc and getting scared by it.

Let's begin with this massive fear of being a taker, not just in the “I’m stealing someone’s fries” way, but in this existential, soul-deep kind of way where he’s terrified of turning everything he loves into something he exploits out of demand for his art. And yeah, it’s sad when you first hear him say it, but it’s also really interesting when you look at how this all ties into his relationship with MC and his inspiration source drying up because of her.

Before Rafayel became an artist, he looked at the world in this super pure, wholesome way. Sceneries and nature were just there, things to admire and feel awe over without needing to do anything about it. Like, imagine standing at the edge of a desert, looking at a sea that’s drying up. Sure, it’s tragic, but it’s also kind of beautiful in a raw, heartbreaking way. That’s how Rafayel saw things, he could appreciate them without feeling like he had to do anything.

But then Rafayel started creating, and suddenly, sceneries weren’t just sceneries anymore. They became inspiration. He wasn’t just admiring beauty, he was extracting something from it, its meaning, its pain, its soul, to turn into art for other people. And that made him feel all kinds of icky, because now he wasn’t just looking at the drying sea. He was taking from it. Just as he's using his people's pain in his art as well, that's also a thing.

Now let’s talk about MC. Rafayel loves her like he used to love those sceneries,,, in this pure, untainted way. There's a parallel here. But here’s the kicker, he’s not the same guy who can just admire something and leave it untouched anymore.

And suddenly, this is no longer only about losing inspiration for him.

This happens after he and MC get together, and it’s like all the pain and anguish that used to fuel his creativity just.. ... dries up. He can’t find that spark anymore because now his life is surrounded by love instead of suffering. In fact, his inspiration starts coming from her and it's starting to clash with how he makes art. In the phone call, he seeks her out and says he needs her so bad and she only needs to talk to help him out. This is the first wink wink nod nod of the story.

So what does Rafayel do? He goes on this big, dramatic trip to "find inspiration" (or at least his muse), but it’s not just about his art. He’s not just looking for inspiration, he’s trying to figure out how to be less dependent on her and becoming increasingly more restless over this. The temparature and physical discomfort is making things worse, he's anxiously overthinking, and imagine trying to fight this and the longest art block as of late off when all you want to do is indulge in this special person and be comforted like a lap cat all day every day.

He understands that if he lets himself indulge without restraint, one day his love for mc will turn into pure need. He’ll become more and more greedy, and he doesn’t want that and is afraid of being abandoned because of that growing neediness and dependency.

This is in relation to his art, because as @/dat-silvers-girl put in the comments, he's struggling with "the genuine fear of not being able to enjoy anything in life because all you're thinking about how to use it (as an artist)" . what if he starts doing this to her? to their love and relationship? take from her, and become someone who only takes in every area of life -- like someone who only exploits things by extracting what he feels about them to use it for his art. he's afraid of that, he doesn't like that and possibly doesn't like himself who does it. so why should she? she would leave him for sure, in his head, that's a solid reason to.

The first time around he brings up his anxiety about MC leaving him out of the inner realization of his dependency, the possibility of just what he can become, and fear of abandonment. she effortlessly soothes his worries. It's heavily implied they did it afterwards and after hearing "her life has already been consumed by him" he tweaked out a little bit and his "obsession" seeped through.

After it fades to black, he says ほら……僕もとっくに……君に侵食されてしまっているんだ…… which means "See... I've already been completely consumed by you too" in Japanese instead of the life being made a chaotic mess localization. While I think MC's line was jokey and lighthearted, I don't think this man is joking at all. Rafayel didn't say his life was consumed by her as well, he said HE was consumed. Ouh.

This took the edge off from him for a while but they hadn't gotten to the root of the problem yet, so he was back to square one after the memorial hall, because remember, he's trying to find inspiration as an act of making this dependency of his better. Pain and suffering are all around him here, which his inspiration feeds off of. The dried up ocean he could hear weakening, the skeleton of the whale, the burden of his people and homeland more prominent than before. And what does MC do? Tear through the perspective of pain and introduce a hopeful alternative, "Isn't it a surprise to see an ocean in the middle of the desert?"

This is a place that gave Rafayel the height of helplessness and suffering when he visited by himself before despite momentarily being hopeful after the locals told him such a place existed. But now, she was there to comfort him through his loneliness and pain, hug him, and give him hope yet again. He brings up how he wanted to come here with the most important person to him when he was still hopeful about it before consumed by the pain of it all, and that wish has been granted. That moment has to be so powerful for Rafayel. Literally light at the end of the tunnel.

It had me reeling that he just sat in the car after all that, staring at her for god knows how long until she woke up. He was probably overthinking again, but my interpretation that it was heavily emotional for him (it could have meant so little for MC but the world for him, she doesn't even know) and he wanted to be in that moment with her, just feel and look without restraint. Indulge a little. (I can just imagine him going just a little bit more, I'll go after she wakes up.) And like. His eyes are shining in the darkness is the description here. Perhaps he was feeling so much here. So much love. So much happiness. And he's about to go in for a kiss (heavy breathing and everything) after that, but holds himself back and actively has to pry himself away. He's feeling the neediness again.

That’s why he makes an effort to actively wean himself off and says he'll be okay on his own. What he says to her after MC is like "spoiling him" being all "hey you're sick maybe don't go? or let's go together?" (which is NOT helping Rafayel at all) is even more meaningful in Japanese and I didn't know why they left out this context, but the rearranged line would be "Do you want me to become a sea creature beached on the sand after the sea recedes, unable to breathe on my own ever again?"

Yeah. YEAH. This is about dependency. (He's saying don't coddle me I'll literally become that wolf tearing his shirt meme 😭)

So of course his stubbornness and anxiety force him to do things without MC and distance himself, he can do it. He’s determined to prove to himself that he can endure it on his own.

I also feel like part of the reason he insisted on going to the salon alone is that he’s still worried mc might come to dislike the version of him who's someone he's so sure she will leave, who isn't perfect and he hides behind the persona he's put up just for her. If he truly becomes addicted to her and shows her everything/his true self, and she ends up leaving him, it would completely break him. He's trying to be like "im so normal about her haha" but he's so not normal about her at all. He's literally obsessed I feel like, and perhaps this is him fighting it knowing it's not healthy.

and OOOH about why he ends up coming back from the salon all hot and bothered.

I have strong context that she flicked the bean in there after he left her high and dry in the car ("hot water washes away the stickiness from my body and his stifled breaths still echo in my ears, enveloping me along with the steam in the bathroom. The warmth from his fingertips lingers in the places where he touched me..." is the english. however, in chinese, it goes "熱水洗去身上的黏膩，壓抑的喘息迴盪在我耳畔，和浴室裡氤氳的水氣一起包裹著我." stating "the suppressed breathing" -- which doesn't have any possessive adjectives when I translated it on google and later explicitly asked chatgpt if it had any his/my adjectives involved, just to be sure. it said no but i'd like it if a real chinese speaking person could give their input on this !!! PLEASE DONT LEAVE ME WITH CHATGPT

so um. if the context is in fact the case that he heard her masturbating to him, the intensity with which he attacked her would be normal, I think 😭

I have belief that MC unconsciously shatters his "training himself to be without her" determination through their bond. She just keeps thinking about him the entire time. about him reading her thoughts, though. we still don't know all about the lemurian bond they share. I’d say it grants him some sort of mind/heart reading ability or connects their minds together (when she was thinking about whether she should hug him, he answered “yes”).

At the salon, I imagine Rafayel was already thinking about her like crazy. Then he realized, or perhaps, "heard" she was still worrying about him and thinking of him (as much he thought about her) and decided to go back. Rafayel probably felt that suppressing himself was only making her more anxious and unsettled. She's thinking all about him, unconsciously calling to him to come to her, she didn't want to let him go at all, wanted to go with him, etc...

but even if it was his own decision and no mind reading was involved... uh. If you ask me. He did quite literally hear her after coming back. That's also something that might make him think she wants him as much as he wants her, which made his self-restraint utterly meaningless from the start.

Disregarding this theory of mine proven wrong until a Chinese speaker helps me out here, MC returned to Rafayel's room. A translation omission happened here from what I saw. There are no possessive adjectives in the Chinese text about the room she returns to, and the Japanese one states she returned to the guest room (doesn't specify which one. She was also able to enter Rafayel's room without needing to knock before.)

so uh. she went into rafayel's room y'all. the line "this is my room, you're the one who walked in here" MAKES SO MUCH MORE SENSE. (SO LIKE. NOT ONLY DID SHE GO INTO HIS ROOM, SHE FLICKED THE BEAN THERE AND HE POSSIBLY HEARD IT. SHE'S MORE OF A FREAK THAN HE IS, I UNDERSTAND WHY HE LET GO AFTER THAT LMFAO)

I don't put it past him to get worked up after he finds her in his room post-bath even without my theory lmfao (idk why they put her in a dress when she should be in a bathrobe or something 😭)

His conclusion at the end of this memory that "he finds inspiration in pain and the art of creation is a part of his life. mc made him realize love and art are so alike. even if they don't complete him but burn him instead he wants them (love and art) with every fiber of his being" and MC says she doesn't like that, rightfully so.

So like. There's SO MUCH to unpack in here.

When Rafayel says he finds inspiration in pain and that creation is a part of his life, he’s admitting something raw and essential about himself: pain isn’t just a byproduct of his art, it’s intrinsic to it. For Rafayel, pain and art are intertwined in a way that’s almost inseparable. It’s like his muse isn’t just beauty, but beauty that hurts.

But then he takes this further by connecting art to love. He’s realized that both art and love demand the same from him: vulnerability, passion, and sometimes suffering. They don’t necessarily complete him (he’s not romanticizing them as salvation), but they burn him, wear him down, consume him (coincidentally, this is something he said to MC in the JP dub of this memory, that she consumes him), but also give him life. And for Rafayel, that’s the crux, even if they burn him, he wants them with every fiber of his being.

This is such a Rafayel thing to say. It’s dramatic, it’s tortured, but it’s also deeply SUBTLE. He doesn't spell all of these out, mind you, I got a headache trying to understand him. Or I'm just slow, I don't know. It shows how much he values creation and connection, even if they come at a cost.

MC, on the other hand, challenges this perspective. When she says she doesn’t like that he views love and art as things that burn him, she’s pushing back against the idea that suffering is a necessary part of creation, or love. MC doesn’t want Rafayel to see their relationship as something that requires him to hurt. She’s telling him, “You don’t have to destroy yourself to love me.”

When MC says, “You’ll never have to burn for me,” she’s giving Rafayel an alternative to his destructive mindset. She’s saying that love doesn’t have to hurt, that their relationship can exist without him sacrificing himself on the altar of passion. It’s a refusal to let Rafayel romanticize pain as the price of love.

And I love that Rafayel goes, "Will you help me look for other parts in life outside of pain?" in response. This is NOT about art or inspiration anymore, and the way the dialogue is written is just AUGH. Again I had to rewatch this over and over again for the nuances and subtext.

I love MC's response, she knew exactly what to say. “I’ll always be the one who walks along the shore with you. Of course, diving into the sea bed is fine too. If it can snow in the desert, there will be a day when the ocean returns.”

MC’s response is layered with metaphors, but at its core, it’s about unwavering support and hope::

Walking along the shore: This represents safety and companionship. MC is saying she’ll be with Rafayel in the calm, in the moments where they’re just observing life without diving into its depths. She’ll be his steady presence, his grounding force.

Diving into the sea bed: This is an acknowledgment that life and love sometimes require going deeper and they may go through hardships, into the unknown, the murky, the challenging. MC isn’t afraid of this, she’s willing to go there with him too.

Snow in the desert and the ocean’s return: This is a symbol of hope and transformation beyond being a nod to The Sea of Golden Sand. Snow in the desert seems impossible, just like the idea of Rafayel finding inspiration outside of pain might feel impossible to him. But MC believes in the extraordinary, in change, and in the possibility that beauty and creation can exist outside of suffering.

Her words are a promise: she’s willing to stand by him, to face the unknown together, and to hold onto the belief that a new way of seeing the world is possible.

And Rafayel LOWKEY PROPOSES IN RETURN.

By saying “let’s watch the sea together,” he’s accepting MC’s offer of companionship and hope in the long run. He’s recognizing that life doesn’t have to be about diving into the depths alone, it can be about sharing the experience with someone else, even if it’s just standing on the shore and watching.

“Every sea”: This phrase is key. Rafayel isn’t just committing to one kind of life or one kind of inspiration, he’s opening himself up to all possibilities. Watching every sea means embracing all facets of life, whether they’re calm or turbulent, painful or beautiful. It’s a marriage proposal declaration that he’s ready to explore the world beyond pain, with MC by his side.

So. I love that his inspiration returns after his freak is accepted by MC because he literally feels the acceptance through the bond.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk. This memory DRAINED me. They were just supposed to bang what the fuck happened. Why did I have to go treasure hunting to find what was going on in this card. anyway...

[fenharel-babe]

Hehehe finally getting to answering it >:))). I would LOVE to see YOUR ROOK🫵 @emmg AND EVERYONE ELSE TAGGED!!!

🌻 How old is your Rook? How do they feel about celebrating their birthday? What gift has meant the most to them?

My Rook is Raven Mercar, and she is 30 (if I’m doing the math right from DAO—>DATV). Rook is pretty neutral about celebrating her birthday. She likes it but if people don’t remember she doesn’t make it a big deal. She does feel very loved and overly happy when people DO remember it. It will make her cry the first time.

Lucanis made her a childhood meal of hers that her parents used to make before they died from the Blight. He surprised her with it one evening for dinner and she sobbed. It was very important to her because it proved that he actually paid attention to what she said and remembered something so small about her. He remembered a MEAL her parents made, and she mentioned it in an off hand comment. It was a very emotional dinner, and she couldn’t have wished for anything else.

🪻 What is the most painful injury your Rook has received? How has it affected them once it healed/scarred?

Raven was a slave during her early 20s (it’s a LOONG story) and her masters were…decent. They got her a tutor for her magic, gave her nice clothes, kept her healthy, but their guests were not the same. They were assholes and her masters never truly did anything. They scolded them, but never truly stopped them.

One day, Raven was weak from training so hard with her tutor the previous night. She was tired of having her tutor hit her knuckles with a ruler when she didn’t meet expectations so she pushed herself hard one night, and the next day a party was held. Raven was exhausted on her feet and felt a little sick, and the demands and how fast she has to work with other slaves was NOT good for her. At one point, she ran into one of the guests and ended up tripping and dropping a glass tray she had in her hands filled with items. Everything, as expected, broke and to make matters worse, Raven fell onto it face first. The glass stabbed and slashed her neck, but didn’t hit anything vital. The guest (and a few others around her) were demeaning her and saying how useless she was, and none helped her up or even called for a healer. She had to get up on her own, holding a hand to her neck, and rushed towards a healer that stayed in the home. It left scars on her neck and shoulder, long slashes is what they look like.

It wasn’t necessarily the most painful, but it was painful emotionally. She never felt so helpless and uncared for until that moment. No one helped her up or even cared if she was okay. She realized that night she had to get out or she would end up dead one day and no one would care.

🌹 What’s the first genuine fight Rook got in with their love interest about? How was it resolved?

Raven and Lucanis rarely fight to be honest. The only thing that makes them angry at each other is when they lie about their feelings or aren’t honest. Both have been through shit, too scared to talk about it and ruin what they have, so they lie and say things along the lines of “I’m fine.” Lucanis gets upset/worried about Raven’s occasional people pleasing attitude and how she sometimes says “yes” too many times. She denies that she’s doing that at all, not wanting to realize she’s falling back to her slave habits, and it irritates Lucanis because babe. You don’t need to please people all the damn time. You’re your own person!!

The way their arguments/unsaid arguments are resolved when they sit down and talk. Sounds cliche and too simple, but it’s true. They sit down and talk about how they feel and why they do the things they do. They both say what they’ll do better, or will try to, and they try to give solutions to the problem to help them be better. They just wanna help each other be good and happy.

Raven may also have a bit or a problem with Lucanis just killing people easily (given how she only kills when necessary) but she doesn’t think much about it.

🌸 Does your Rook have any siblings or close friends they see as such? Where are they during the events of Veilguard?

Raven used to be good friends with Bloom Lavellan and Joseph Lavellan, who were the INQUISITORS!! She was born in Kirkwall and was there during some events of DA2. Bloom and Joseph were there (long story) and Bloom found Raven on the streets. Raven’s parents had died because of the blight and she couldn’t afford the house anymore, so she was forced out onto the streets. Bloom found her and helped her with her magic, basically being a teacher to her, and was all motherly to her. Until she was taken by slavers one night who also kidnapped Bloom. However, Bloom had gotten away and didn’t have time to save Raven or else they would both be caught…so she ran.

Raven felt betrayed and lost that connection to both of them. It’s how she becomes a slave in the first place. It comes back during DATV.

🌾 If there was a demon trying to trap/take over Rook, what kind would be the most successful? What would break their hold?

It would be difficult for them to do it, BUT if one was ever to win in some universe, it would definitely be Fear. Raven is scared of being alone, being forced into slavery again, losing everyone she loves, and it’s why during the Fade Prison scene, she was so scared and almost willing to give up. She felt like everyone was gone…so why should she try anymore? Fear of being abandoned and not being loved is her biggest ones, so a demon making her feel that way or threatening her with that would definitely win.

🌱 Was Rook involved romantically with anyone before Veilguard? What was their partner like? How did the relationship end?

Raven was never romantically involved with anyone before Lucanis. She lived in Kirkwall with her parents, lived on the streets once they died of blight, had a teacher and lived okay for awhile, was taken by slavers and sold to live as a slave, and once she escaped her masters’ she lived on the streets of Minrathous and barely survived. She worried about what she would eat next, not some pretty boy she saw and spoke a few words to. It’s why she was very awkward with Lucanis and didn’t know how to flirt or truly know what Love was. It’s why it takes awhile for them to get together, but they make it work. Their matching awkwardness makes them fall for each other lol.

🌼 If someone was to ask Spite what Rook smells like, what would he say?

Like flour or something sweet since she LOVES pastries such as donuts, and a mix of coffee. She smells like a bakery honestly.

🌷If Rook needed to get away from their responsibilities for a moment, where would they go? Where is their safe space outside the Lighthouse?

She would’ve gone to the Shadow Dragons hideout. These people saved her from the streets (literally barely surviving) and helped her mentally and emotionally and physically and any other way they can help. It feels safe there, at least until it was destroyed. Now she doesn’t know where to go and just hides in her room in the Lighthouse. If she was forced out of the lighthouse, she would go to that little fisher guy Neve brought her to once to buy food. He was sweet and she loved the sound of his voice and the food. Maybe if she ate and spoke to him about simple things she would feel better….

🥀 What figure from Rook’s personal past would be added to the regret prison?

It would be her parents. Her parents are dead, but she still tries to live up to what they would’ve wanted for her. If she heard them confront her and look at her with disappointment? She would sob, falling to her knees, and would just…be there for awhile. She wants them to be proud of her and still love her from beyond the grave.

If they mentioned how naive she was for trusting him and playing into Solas’s hands, she would sob and feel so much regret for doing anything. She would eventually break out of it, but if she saw them??? It would haunt her.

🪷 Does your Rook have an irrational phobia? (ie spiders or large man-made objects submerged underwater)

She doesn’t really have any big fears other than HUGE bugs or being trapped. Being trapped underwater in any way freaks her out, being trapped in a room freaks her out. She just CAN’T STAND being trapped. She already was when she was a slave, so she fears falling back into that. She needs freedom, not entrapment.

🍀 Has Rook had any near-death experiences? What went through their mind during what they thought was going to be their final moments?

Her only near death experience was when she was 27 and lived on the streets after escaping her previous masters. She had lived on the street for 2 years now, and it was bad. She was sick, her hygiene was terrible, she had gotten hurt from being caught trying to steal food, and she was laying in an alleyway. She believed if she fell asleep, she would never wake up again. She was so sure and just kept thinking of her parents. Would she see them again? Did she even deserve to see them again? Her thoughts weren’t really straight since she was hurt and her health was declining. She was just so tired.

But before she could die, a shadow dragon found her and brought her to the hideout. They got a healer to her immediately and she was saved.

💐 What is the relationship Rook has with their faction mentor? What was the moment they sent Rook away like?

Raven’s relationship was very close. She was dependent on them heavily and cared for them since they cared for her. When she was sent away she was heartbroken, though a part of her understood. It felt like when she was taken away from home in Kirkwall all over again, but she knew it was different. They only sent her away as a last resort, she knew that. She was lonely and scared being on her own again, but the people taught her to be careful and how to be on the street if necessary. She would live to see them again, she would make sure of it.

🌺 Is there an object from Rook’s childhood they look back on fondly? (ie a favorite stuffed animal, book, or food)

Since she was taken from Kirkwall, she didn’t have anything big to look back on. The only thing she had was the memory of a dish her parents made for any celebration. It was her favorite and she remembered the recipe and whenever she was really hungry, she swears she could taste it.

She would help her parents make it and it was always a sweet moment for the whole family. It’s why Lucanis makes it for her once she tells him what it is, because he knows it’s very important to her.

🌿 Does your Rook have any tattoos? What was the moment when they got them like? If they’re a Crow where is their de Riva brand located? What vallaslin do they have/how did they earn it if they’re Dalish?

Raven got a small snake tattoo on her wrist. It’s wrapping around her wrist and all the way to a finger. It’s a simple snake, and its eyes match her eye color and its body is red and black. It is always a constant reminder of the group that saved her and how she will always be a part of it. Even if she doesn’t have the clothes or anything else, she has the tattoo. And it’s enough for her.

The moment she got it was emotional. She knew she had people always with her and would help her if she needed it. She had an organization backing her up, so she wouldn’t truly be alone again. If she wasn’t with them, then she would have this tattoo to always carry them with her.

🍂 What was it like the first time Rook killed someone? How did they react afterwards?

Raven killed someone when she was living on the streets in Minrathous. It was a slave catcher and he was after her. She was trained in magic, yes, but she still had outbursts at times and if she was panicked, the magic would react. She was cornered in an alley, the man had a whip and was so close to getting her, so she cast a spell. She didn’t know what it was till it happened. It was a fireball to him, and it was strong. He burned to death in front of her eyes, and it was terrifying. She felt like a monster, but at the same time she felt a bit of…joy at seeing him dead. He wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else.

It’s what really scared her. The fact she cared but also didn’t care that he was dead. It still is a battle in her mind whenever she kills someone.

Woe! Rook ask game be upon ye!

🌻 How old is your Rook? How do they feel about celebrating their birthday? What gift has meant the most to them? 🪻 What is the most painful injury your Rook has received? How has it affected them once it healed/scarred? 🌹 What’s the first genuine fight Rook got in with their love interest about? How was it resolved? 🌸 Does your Rook have any siblings or close friends they see as such? Where are they during the events of Veilguard? 🌾 If there was a demon trying to trap/take over Rook, what kind would be the most successful? What would break their hold? 🌱 Was Rook involved romantically with anyone before Veilguard? What was their partner like? How did the relationship end? 🌼 If someone was to ask Spite what Rook smells like, what would he say? 🌷If Rook needed to get away from their responsibilities for a moment, where would they go? Where is their safe space outside the Lighthouse? 🥀 What figure from Rook’s personal past would be added to the regret prison? 🪷 Does your Rook have an irrational phobia? (ie spiders or large man-made objects submerged underwater) 🍀 Has Rook had any near-death experiences? What went through their mind during what they thought was going to be their final moments? 💐 What is the relationship Rook has with their faction mentor? What was the moment they sent Rook away like? 🌺 Is there an object from Rook’s childhood they look back on fondly? (ie a favorite stuffed animal, book, or food) 🌿 Does your Rook have any tattoos? What was the moment when they got them like? If they’re a Crow where is their de Riva brand located? What vallaslin do they have/how did they earn it if they’re Dalish? 🍂 What was it like the first time Rook killed someone? How did they react afterwards?

[damn-stark]

Chapter 35 I live. I tell your story

Chapter 35 of Moonlight

A/N- Happy New Year and I really hope you all like it!

Warning- some angst, FLUFF!!! Talks of death. SPOILERS!! FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- Past 578

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

*25 YEARS LATER*

Flying in the sky is a lot like swimming in the sea. On warm days when the sun is out the sky is blue just like the body of water. The sky is endless just like the sea is. And on any random day, the sky is cold or chilly because you’re up so high, and when you’re in the water the deeper you dive the colder the waters get.

Unlike when you’re in the water though, there’s no constant need to keep surfacing for air though. True, sometimes the air in the sky gets thin, making it hard to breathe, but you don’t need to hold your breath and keep coming up and down. You’re just on your saddle, drawing in crisp air through your lungs, you’re breaking apart wet clouds, startling flocks of birds, or sometimes even joining their beautiful formation as you and your dragon become one with the endless sky touched by only you.

Isn’t it so fascinating that besides winged creatures you and Rhaena are the only ones who can touch the sky and be a part of the endless horizon?

You think about that often and always take great pride in the fact that you have your dragon now that you live so far from the sea. You might be dramatic but what would be of you if you couldn’t touch the sky whenever you wanted to?

You don’t want to know. You lost so much, but Astraea has been your constant companion since you were an infant. If she hadn’t made it—-well you don’t want to think about it.

What you will think about once you dismount your dragon is breakfast. Everyone must already be around the table—except for Jacaerys maybe. He’s never on time anywhere.

“Ser Cane,” you greet your old but fiercely loyal sworn protector.

“Good morning?” He asks as he watches you walk past him before he follows at your tail like always.

“Great,” you let him know and turn around to watch your dragon back peddle before she walks forward and flaps her giant purple wings to gain momentum before she departs for the skies again—“you were late,” you point out as you drop your gaze on the man and raise your eyebrows teasingly.

“Or you woke up earlier,” he retorts. “My Princess.”

You snicker and then turn around on your heels to face forward. “I knew you’d be here when I landed so I didn’t want to bother you before it was time.”

He sighs in defeat knowing nothing will change. The only advantage to this disadvantage is that at least his heart doesn’t strain with worry because he knows that the people of the North love you, and your dragon is fierce. You can be fierce too but you stopped carrying weapons on your person long ago, so you’re left vulnerable when you’re alone, but you ignore that.

“Cregan!” You call out when you spot him walking toward the dining hall, and he immediately comes to a stop as he hears his name. When he turns, his grey eyes brighten as he sees you picking up the skirt of your gown to run over to him.

When you reach him you throw your arm around his and then lean toward him to press a kiss on his lips, making him smile sweetly.

“How was your flight?” He asks against your lips as he savors your kiss as if he hadn’t tasted them in the morning.

“Refreshing,” you share with a smile before you turn forward and walk to the dining hall side by side now. “You’re late to the table how come? Did something come up?” You ask curiously as you look at him trying to find the answer on his face.

“Yes, some of the lads needed my help. I almost thought I wouldn’t break fast with you and the boys,” he says.

You hum and let your eyes flicker to the corridor as you walk inside the stone building. “You should have taken Jacaerys with you so he could work up the courage to talk to you.”

Cregan turns his head and probes. “About?”

You draw out a deep breath and then turn your head to look him in the eyes. “It’s not for me to say. I just wanted to let you know that he wants to talk.”

He hums and shrugs. “He’s welcome to talk to me anytime he wants. He knows that.”

You keep your eyes on him and sigh, he hears it and he sees your softened eyes full of love start to harden and create a deep crease in between your eyebrows as they furrow in response. “What?” He presses.

“We’ll talk about it later,” you say and leave him wondering what you could mean.

“Okay,” he scoffs softly.

You huff and rub his bicep with your other hand before you slip your hands away from his arm and walk ahead and enter the dining hall first, causing all the chatter to silence as all the attention falls on you and Cregan walking in a bit late.

“For once I am not the late one,” Jacaerys breaks the short-lived silence, making his older brother Maekor scoff in annoyance.

“Grandmother! Grandmother!” Maekor’s twin boys both then shout in sync with excitement, making Maekor’s wife lean down to scold them for shouting over the table in the same way their uncle just did.

“Good Morning everyone,” you announce. “Please as you were. Sorry, we’re late.”

“Good morning,” Cregan greets as he makes his way to his seat.

“Mother,” Rickon, Cregan’s first-born son with Lady Arra Norrey, greets you as you sit down between him and his father.

“Rickon,” you redirect and stroke his chin gently.

“How come it’s alright for you to be late because of your dragon riding, but it’s frowned upon when I’m out all night?” Jacaerys remarks as he reaches over the round wooden table to place food on his plate, making you sit back and slowly look at him with curiosity.

“Can you ever shut up?” Maekor hisses at his brother.

Yet you only add fuel to the matter. “Because it’s not truly the same is it? And you’re out all night without guards doing…well, I do not wish to know what.”

Jacaerys scoffs and proceeds to add. “Father and you go out at night as well—”

“Jacaerys,” Maekor cuts his brother off sharply, making the corner of your lips twitch to a smile that you share with Cregan.

When your husband sees your reaction his lips upturn to a smirk and he passes you a look that says, “that's your son.”.

You snicker in response and he then strokes your chin before he reaches over the round table without needing to be told and passes you what you wanted. After you all serve yourselves breakfast there’s a serenity that blankets the round wooden table, the oldest boy of Maekor’s twins walks over and sits between Cregan and you because he says he wants to tell you a story that never gets told because he gets sidetracked on a matter you start to make sense of before you get lost as you drift your attention to Torrhen.

Your youngest son and child has always been quieter than his other siblings, even before his dragon dreams and Greenseer notions started. Some people might even say that he blends into the room, that’s how quiet he is, he’s never expected to be the loudest one, but he’s never lost to you. He's like the brightest star in the night sky, you always find him like right now, and at this very moment he seems lost in his food as if he’s trying to decipher something within it.

You hope he’ll snap out of his stupor as he feels your eyes on him trying to decipher what thoughts might be forming in his mind, but he seems to be hundreds of years away from where he actually is. Thus you intend to call out to him to snap him out of his stupor and begin a small conversation, but just as you part your lips the dining hall doors open, and the maester walks and makes his way to you.

“Princess,” he whispers by your ear as he pushes a scroll toward you. “This just came to you from the Riverlands. It has an unknown mark on the wax.”

You grab the scroll and turn it, seeing the wax and identifying who the sender is; it’s Alys.

“Thank you, Maester,” you say back with a smile directed at the scroll.

The Maester quickly bows his head at you and Cregan before he scurries off, leaving the room to you and your family once again.

“It's Alys,” you let Cregan know since you know he’s curious about the raven scroll.

“Hm, I wonder what she could want,” he comments and you giddily smile at the scroll one more time before you tuck it away so you can read it later. As of now, you finish your breakfast with more enthusiasm since you're anticipating reading the scroll, which is why you finish quicker than the others.

“I’ll be in the Godswood,” you let Cregan know and kiss his cheek. Before you can lean back and walk off you grab his shoulder and slide your lips to his ear. “Talk to Torrhen, please my love.”

Cregan’s eyes slowly find your son and you follow his line of gaze, noticing that he’s only eaten half of his food and the rest is just sprawled around his plate as he keeps playing with it.

“He’s…having a hard time and I know he doesn’t say it or it may not look it, but he really does need you,” you continue to whisper as you focus back on Cregan. “So talk to him. Take him with you to help you, okay? And be…warm, hm.”

Your husband's grey eyes snap to you and he raises his eyebrow to question your comment.

“He’s your son. Our youngest child, keep that in mind, okay?” You press to give him some idea as to what you could mean without having to explain it right now.

“Alright,” Cregan says back with confusion but he doesn’t press on the matter, he just lets you know he comprehends, letting you leave to go read your letter and respond to Alys in the Godswood like you tend to do when she writes.

“Dear, Princess,

I write to you in regards to Prince Aemond—“

You blink repeatedly in surprise and quickly lean forward to continue reading with a new sense of urgency.

“—some of the King’s men traveled to the God’s Eye in search of your lost ancestral Valyrian sword and stumbled upon it on the lake's surface still attached to your late husband's skull. The men want to recover the blade, thus I thought I’d ask if you would want to recover his bones to do with it as you please or let them disregard it back in the lake. Let me know as soon as you can, the King’s men don’t find value in the bones of the enemy.

-Your friend, Alys Rivers ”

You blink again with surprise and sit back to go over the news the letter contained over and over again, with each time the scab over your heart tearing little by little.

For ten years all you thought of when you thought of Aemond was his death. You remembered the grief and agony that tormented you when you saw him fall into the water and never get out. You remembered how empty you felt without him. You remembered how much you missed him every time you looked into Aerion and Daenys’ eyes. Your memories were never kind until ten years passed.

After a decade of agony, you stopped aching and looked back fondly at your memories. It’s true you’ll never stop missing him or the rest of your family, you’ll be cursed to grieve them until your memory fails you or until you die, but you’re at peace, so to learn that they found his bones, rattles you. You thought you’d never get to lay his body to rest or have your two children that you share with him see him one last time…

Thus now that you can give him a proper funeral you won’t let it go to waste or have his bones return to the lake. You’ll give him a proper Valyrian funeral and have Aerion and Daenys attend. You know the Riverlands still remembers him as a terror of the trident and the rest of the realm remembers him as a kinslayer, but you don’t need them to stand next to you as you burn his bones, all you need is the children you had with him. Fuck everyone else and what they might think when they hear what you do.

As for what Cregan might think…

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT*

After a rather long day, after thinking about Aemond since you read that letter, and after putting your conversations with your husband aside, Cregan and you prove your son Jacaerys right and find yourselves in a discreet hot spring where you know no one will disturb you. And you know that because you only stumbled upon the hot spring when you were a ward sneaking off in the middle of the night with your lover.

“Did you talk to Torrhen?” You finally get to ask after only since you didn’t want to risk being overheard by one of your sons or anyone else eavesdropping.

“Uh,” Cregan hesitates to answer as he undresses.

You look back at the sound of his response and raise your eyebrow even though he has back-turned, letting you see his pale ass as he takes his pants off. “Cregan,” you press.

Said man turns at the sound of his name coming from your lips and lets his pants fall before he proceeds to shake them off, and then walk over to you.

“Need help?” He asks smugly.

You swat his hand away and back away as you untie your gown and let it fall around your ankles, leaving yourself in a lighter gown.

“I told you to talk to him and Jacaerys,” you press impatiently.

Cregan pulls his leather vest off and then takes off his shirts, leaving himself completely nude to jump in the hot water while also ignoring you.

“Cregan Stark,” you hiss and finish undressing before you face him from dry land with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Can you get in the water,” he counters and waves you over. “I can’t think properly when you’re like that.”

You roll your eyes and join him in the water before you look at him with irritation all over again. “Explain why you did not talk to Torrhen or Jacaerys.”

Cregan meets your gaze and his eyes wander down to your breasts so you cross your arms again and press him. “You did not have to talk to the both of them. Just one for now. Why didn’t you?”

Cregan’s grey eyes slowly scale back up to meet your gaze and he sighs deeply before he finally shares what he’s been holding back. “I…tried. I did, but I could find a way to offer him what you want me to give him. And he brushed the matter aside, I did not want to pry.”

You take long blinks as you let his words sink and when you remember that he did not have the same attention from his parents growing up, you let out a deep sigh and approach him to gently grab his arms.

The thing is that his parents were good to him, but his mother died when he was fairly young, and his father wasn’t as open and warm with him as your mother and your father were to you and your brothers. Cregan is a man and he was the eldest, he needed to be tough to face every challenge head-on, so he wasn’t talked to with sweet words laced with honey like the way your mother talked to you and your brothers. He wasn’t told to let his feelings out, they needed to be kept in, whereas your brothers had your mother's shoulders to cry on.

It’s because of that upbringing that it’s second nature for you to be present and warm in your children’s lives. It’s hard for Cregan to be so with his sons, but with your daughters it’s a different story, he was terrifyingly overprotective when your daughters still lived with you. Now they’re too far from him to be menacing to any dangers that could put them in harm's way. And! You don’t want him to be the same way with your sons, you just need him to be someone they can open up to. They need him.

“I’m not telling you to do the impossible, just be…warmer,” you explain your thought process. “Press Torrhen to open up. He really needs you, my love.”

Cregan slowly lowers his head and his eyebrows knit together as he grows conflicted. “I don’t know how to help him,” he confesses quietly and with shame laced in his voice.

“I…” you trail off and hesitate. “I admit it’s not easy. We don’t see what he can, but,” you pause and raise your hands to grab his jaw and tilt his face up so you can look him in the eyes. “Tell him you’re there for him. Be someone he can rely on, instead of someone to avoid. He thinks that you think of him as mad. That you wouldn’t understand and that he’s a burden.”

Cregan shakes his head and his eyes begin to brim with tears. “No,” his voice quivers. “Never. I know there are things in this world that cannot be explained. I mean you fly a dragon and walk through fire, my ancestors were wargs. Some of us live to fight the dead beyond the wall, he’s not mad. I just…haven’t tried I suppose. I’ve relied on you too much to be their support when…it should’ve been the both of us.”

You stroke his cheeks and nod gently. “You understand.”

Cregan raises his hands to cup yours and keep them on his cheeks as he whispers. “I love that you’re so caring to our children. I admire that about you, did you know?”

You giggle as your heart swoons even though this is all something you already heard. “I like to be reminded from time to time,” you tease him and lean in to slowly take him in for a passionate kiss, making him let one of your hands go to slither it to the back of your neck and keep you secured against him as he just deepens it and lets his tongue dance with yours.

When you wrap your arms around his neck he lets his other hand slide down to cup one of your ass cheeks and knead it as he only lets you take in small breaths before he continues to devour you completely in sync with your movements.

One would say he’s gone months or years deprived of your lips, but this morning you woke up early to fuck before you started your day. He’s just as needy as you are, so when you finally pull apart it’s after you’re both heaving from a quickie in the hot spring.

“What did your witch friend say?” Cregan finally asks, making you laugh and kiss his forearm as he has it wrapped around your neck while he keeps his chest pressed against your back.

“Alys,” you correct him with a giggle before you draw out a deep breath and go serious. “She let me know about the King's men diving in the God’s eye to recover my family’s Valyrian sword, ‘Dark Sister’, from Aemond’s skull, and she asked if I want her to have the men recover his body for me or let it sink back in.”

You feel a breath unfurl over the back of your neck before he shares what he’s thinking. “What did you respond with?”

“Yes,” you let him know without shame because it’s not like Aemond’s corpse can do anything to harm him or you—“I want to give him a proper funeral. For me and Aerion and Daenys. I sent them and Daenerys a raven to go to Harrenhal so they can be a part of it and so I can see them.”

Cregan hums and you turn around to face him whilst you remain wrapped in his arms, only now his hands are wrapped around your waist and you have your hands pressed against his chest.

“I sent a raven to Alysanne,” you say in reference to your (second) daughter and second born child with Cregan, who was named after Good Queen Alysanne because she’s someone you admire and because of her good relations to the North—“I told her to go to Harrenhal too, so maybe you and the boys can come? I’m sure Rickon can handle being Lord for a while.”

“He’s told you, hasn’t he? He wants to do more?” Cregan asks and you can’t help but smirk, giving away your answer.

“Perhaps, so come with me,” you plead. “Let's see our children. And our Alyssane is with child, it gives you the opportunity to see her.”

The corner of his lips pulls to a smile and he lifts his hand to grab your cheek. “If that’s what you want.”

You nod right away and look at him with a pleading look to sway him to what you want.

“We could also visit my brothers at the Red Keep while we’re out there already, and…maybe we or I can ask Alys to help Torrhen,” you share that last bit quieter as you sound desperate for anything to make Torrhen feel better about his abilities.

“If he wants to go that is,” Cregan interjects and you drop your head on his shoulder.

“If I ask him he will,” you tell him confidently before you go back to being worried. “I just hope Alys can offer him some peace of mind.”

“I’m sure she can. She’s already offered, hasn't she?”

You nod softly and he starts to caress the back of your head as he leans down to press his lips against the top of it. “See? Then there’s nothing to worry about. She’ll help him with what she can.”

You nod as you take his comfort and linger in the silence for a short while before you pull your head back to look at him giddily. “I was thinking that on our way back from Kings Landing, I could stay with Alysanne until she gives birth. I’ve been at Daenys and Daenerys' side when they had their babes, I want to do the same with Alysanne.”

He huffs and presses a kiss on your forehead. “I’m certain she’ll appreciate it.”

“That’s if she doesn’t want her father instead,” you tease the fact that your daughter favors Cregan more than she favors you.

“I’m certain she’ll want her mother there at her bedside when the time comes,” he offers reassurance. “I’ll go after and we can return home together.”

“On dragonback?” You probe as you mindlessly trace circles on his chest. “It will be quicker.”

He sighs and lolls his head down but he can’t refuse you, so he gives in. “On dragonback,” he assures you, making you giddy before you go on spewing about your failed attempt at knitting Alysanne a blanket for her babe before you both talk and enjoy the silence and your alone time together.

When the kids started getting older and you added more to your family way back then, Cregan and you would sneak off to steal time for yourselves. After all, having four children to start off with right way and then increasing that number to four, to five, to six, seven, and then eight doesn’t leave much privacy, so you had to rely on sneaking off like when you were young. Now as the kids are old and the girls have left to start their own families Cregan and you simply enjoy spending time away from the castle from time to time. Eventually, before dawn, to get some sleep in, you would return home. Just like now.

——

*SOMETIME LATER. THE RIVERLANDS*

“I have forgotten how ugly the Riverlands are,” you hear Jacaerys comment under his breath. “I do not get why people live here.”

“You’ve only been here once,” Torrhen corrects his older brother with some impatience after a long ride of dealing with him in a small carriage that only persisted of Cregan, you, him, and Jacaerys; Maekor and his family took a different carriage from the harbor, and Ser Cane is leading the way on horseback with a few other guards.

“Once was enough to dictate that I don’t like it. As to how Alysanne lives here is beyond me,” he says snobbishly.

“It was her duty to her husband. She, unlike others, understands the responsibility of duty,” Torrhen retorts sassily, causing you to lift your eyes off your book to watch the pair of brothers.

“Hm,” Jacaerys huffs as he flashes his little brother a feigned smile, “you sound like Maekor and Rickon.”

The corner of Torrhen’s lips twitch to a smirk and he counters back quickly. “They are our brothers.”

Jacaerys feigned smile falls flat and he looks back at his brother with a scowl. “Why don’t you doze off—”

“Jacaerys,” you warn him and finally lower your book to give them all your attention.

Said man drops his scowl and sighs deeply before he looks out the window and adds another comment. “I don’t think choosing to marry Ellis falls in the line of duty. Duty would be if she had to marry him, but she chose to.”

“She still has to move to Raventree Hall for her husband. She uprooted her life to come live in the Riverlands. That’s duty.”

Jacaerys eyes fall on you and he simply shakes his head. “It doesn’t bear heavy weight though, does it?”

You sigh and hold his gaze with pity as you know where he’s coming from. You just don’t add anything to the matter, choosing silence and acknowledgment instead.

“Mother,” Torrhen calls out and steals your attention. “You mentioned once that you thought of moving over here, how come?”

You put the book aside and glance at Cregan with a teasing smirk before you look back at your sons and share what you told daughters before. “Before your father and I married, when I was Regent, Lord Kermit Tully fancied me.”

“And you him,” Cregan inputs with annoyance so you nudge his arm and quip.

“No, I did not!” You chuckle. “Sure he was handsome, but I did not fancy the man. He was just someone I considered marrying to do my duty to my family.”

“But?” Jacaerys probes, letting his curiosity get the best of him.

You look at Cregan and offer a much warmer smile. “Your father and I worked out our problems and he asked me to marry him first, so I did.”

Cregan flashes you a smile before he wraps his arm around you and pulls you to him. “I would have challenged Lord Kermit for your hand, do you know that?”

“Would that have been after you had killed my grandfather or before?” You snap him as you pull your head back to shoot a pointed look.

“You wouldn’t have married me if I had?” He teases as he leans toward your lips.

You shake your head, making him smirk and quip.

“Then I would have stolen you.”

You giggle. “Oh would you have, oh, so honorable Stark?”

Cregan smiles wider and he nods as a response before he whispers. “If you had said no then, then that’s when I would have let you go.”

You hum and look at him with amusement and fondness. “It's a good thing you did not commit to killing my grandfather then,” you add, making your sons share a disgusted look that Cregan and you miss as you’re too busy gazing into each other's eyes.

“Well it’s a good thing I wasn’t born a Tully,” Jacaerys cuts in, making Cregan and you slowly peel your eyes away from each other to look at your son.

“They’re honorable people, Jacaerys,” Cregan defends them. “They’re good fighters that risked their lives for your grandmother Rhaenyra and your mother. You should not say things like that.”

Jacaerys lets his eyes linger on his father before he drifts his eyes away and turns his body to be able to look out the window some more. When Cregan is assured that his son won’t move he looks at you, making you look at him to take note of the confused look he gives in response to Jacaerys reaction.

You can’t offer him much but grabbing his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze to reassure him because you know it’ll pass quickly, he just needs to leave it be.

After that as a silence sets within the carriage, you notice the carriage slowly rolls to a stop and as you look out the window the first thing you catch a glimpse of is your firstborn, your Aerion waiting for your arrival.

You then see the grey eyes of Daenerys and behind her, you catch Alysanne with her husband Lord Ellis Blackwood, and your entire being lights up, but your attention is completely stolen by Aerion. So much so that before the carriage can come to a stop, you get up from your seat. Once the wheels stop moving against the ground you don’t wait for the doors to open, you burst out of the carriage with your eyes darting to your son.

“Aerion,” you greet excitedly before you pick up the skirt of your gown and run over to greet him with an embrace. “Aerion,” you whisper once you have him in your arms.

“Mother,” he greets in his deep gravelly voice that is like sweet music in your ears every time you hear it.

After lingering in each other's embrace you pull back and cup his cheeks. “Look at you,” muse and study his towering figure which appears to be more buff than the last time you saw him. “You’ve put on more muscle.” You point out.

He chuckles breathlessly and drops his head causing your hands to fall back to your side.

“How did the waters treat you?” He asks and lifts his head to look at you with his father's blue eyes that hit you with a wave of longing for a man who's been dead a long time.

“They were on our side, thankfully,” you assure him and caress his arms as if trying to grasp the fact that he's flesh and bones. “How was your ride here?” You redirect, causing a sparkle to shine in his eyes as he flashes you a beaming smile.

“Safe and good. Thank the gods.”

You smile softly and muse. “Yes thank the gods.”

You linger in his presence as if you hadn’t seen him a few months back for his name day and just take in the sight of him. Out of all your children who left, his departure hurt the most. Maybe it was because he was just seven years old when he went to ward with your grandfather Corlys, or maybe it was because when he was a boy he looked so much like his father, and having that beautiful reminder leave you was like losing Aemond all over again. And it was not just a temporary loss, you lost that reminder forever when Aerion stopped looking less and less like Aemond as he grew older. Now he only has Aemond’s eyes as a sole similarity, but besides that, Aemond is lost in Aerion forever.

You would argue that Daenys bears a heavy resemblance to Aemond, but the truth is she grew out of her father's looks rather quickly. She’s slim and tall just like him, and her attitude and the way she carries herself is just like him, but she hates and you mean hates when you compare her to Aemond. She takes offense to it so you stopped looking for her father within his only daughter to please her. Besides, it was easier to stop comparing the two because Daenys’ blue eyes changed when she was a babe to the same shade of brown as Alicent’s. Which must be some cruel joke the gods chose to play on you because how can you hate the woman who bore those brown eyes first but love the girl who bears them now?

In any case, you move away from Aerion and immediately take in his wife and your daughter Daenerys.

“Hello, my lovely girl,” you greet her warmly and embrace her tightly.

“I almost thought I didn't exist in the presence of my husband,” she sasses you, causing you to pull back and shake your head in response.

“Stop that,” you scold her lightheartedly and then take her face like you took Aerion’s and just admire her pretty face.

“I missed you,” she lets you know kindly, making her grey eyes soften.

“I missed you too.” You redirect without hesitation and stroke her face.

Daenerys smiles with dimples appearing on her cheeks and then lifts her eyes to the sky. “Where is she?” She asks.

You follow your daughter's line of gaze and before you can search the skies intently Astraea dives out of the cloud bank and lets out a rather greeting roar that makes all your children grin from ear to ear.

“There,” you point to your dragon flying by to most likely circle around to land close by. “Where are your kids?”

Daenerys returns her attention to you and drags out a deep breath. “Home. It’s a short trip away from home. We did not want to make it a big deal.”

You hum with a hint of sadness, but you don’t let it linger to avoid making her feel bad, instead, you think of a solution. “Well, I’ll have to pay you a visit with Astraea then.”

Daenerys smiles cheekily. “Sounds like a good idea. The kids will love it.”

You offer her a sweet smile and just as you’re going to move down the line to greet Alysanne, shouts break through the air and echo, “Aerion!” As all your sons cry out for their older brother with so much excitement before they run over and tackle him to trap him in a group embrace that he gladly welcomes as he matches their excitement.

“Dany,” you hear Cregan say before you hear him approaching his daughter who isn’t publicly acknowledged as his daughter, but is. And she, along with all your children knows that. It’s not a secret Cregan and you kept, and it’s not one that can be uncovered due to her white-silver hair and the fact that she was born at the same as Daenys, so no one is the wiser. Thankfully.

“Mother!” Alysanne calls out dramatically, making you turn to look at her and cover your mouth out of pure admiration as you take note of her little belly.

“<My little Siren,>” you greet giddily in a sing-song voice in Valyrian before you skip and jog over to catch her in an embrace as she runs over to meet you halfway.

“<Mother>,” she redirects with a hint of relief. “<How I’ve missed you.>”

You rub her back and nod gently. “I’ve missed you too. How are you feeling?” You ask right away and pull back to caress her belly. “Nauseous? Tired?”

Alysanne, who loves to be pampered and given attention to looks at you with a sweet and helpless look. “Tired. I’m always tired, but I feel much better now that you and father are here.”

You stroke her cheek and then stroke her chin. “I’m here for you now, okay?”

She sighs with more relief and nods in comprehension before her eyes dart to her father approaching her as the boys are still hogging Aerion’s attention, and she immediately looks at Cregan with a pout and her eyes brimming with tears, captivating all his attention just like a siren captures their prey

“My darling,” he coos and she coos back.

“Father.”

You roll your eyes and then finally give attention to Alysanne’s husband. “Ellis.”

“Princess,” he greets you with a bow just like his father Lord Benjicot Blackwood always did, however, Ellis’ smile is much more charming than his fathers ever was.

“How are you, my boy?” You ask him with genuine curiosity as you take him in for a short embrace.

“Honestly?” He says as you both pull away—“I’m nervous. My father says that I shouldn’t be, but I am. Alysanne is…” he sighs with concern. “Very important to me. I treasure her, and I hear what happens to women. I don’t want that fate for her.”

You swallow back nervously and remain positive yourself. “It happens, but it won’t happen to her. Just try to remain strong, and level-headed, and remember to breathe. She’ll be okay, and so will your babe. In any case, I’ll be there when she gives birth.”

Ellis lets out a relieved breath and nods in comprehension. “Good. Thank you.”

You offer him one last smile before you glance over at the others and see that Aerion now has Ser Cane captive while Cregan is talking to both Daenerys and Alysanne, letting you let out a small and content breath before you let your eyes wander to the distance to find none other than the women who summoned you here, Alys. She’s keeping to herself in the distance, letting you have your time with your family, but also making sure that you know she’s here too.

Once you make eye contact she turns away and walks away all mysteriously except there’s no mystery as to where she’s going. To avoid all the attention, she disappears into the Godswood, so you let Cregan know where you’re going and then approach Torrhen.

“Darling, meet me at the Godswood when you’re done here, okay?” You let him know as he’s still getting carried away with his brothers. “Have Ser Cane show you the way.”

Torrhen's face doesn't drop the smile he carries, he just agrees with a quick nod. “Of course mother.”

You give his arm a gentle squeeze before you watch Astraea land nearby, drawing the attention of Daenerys and Alysanne and whisking them toward her. And even though she won’t let the girls ride her, she still welcomes the attention they give her, and if the occasion arose she would protect them too just like she protects you. Therefore you’re able to leave her with your family without a second thought to walk to the Godswood to join your good friend Alys underneath the Weirwood tree.

“Hello…old friend,” you greet her as you approach her figure facing the old Heart Tree.

“Princess,” she returns in a kind voice before she turns around and shows off her face untouched by aging. “It’s a pleasure seeing you again.”

You smile brightly and when you reach her you grab her hands and caress her knuckles. “You must tell me what you do to not age. Maybe I want to live forever too.”

Alys laughs softly and with her thumb, strokes your cheek. “You age gracefully, my friend. Besides, my time will come when my flesh and bones will return to the ground and bring new life.”

You snicker teasingly at her choice of words and she catches it right away and scoffs before she moves back and points her chin to the exit. “You’re missing one. Where’s Daenys?”

You draw out a solemn breath and offer her an answer. “She couldn’t come. She said her daughter Naerys just recovered from a cold. She didn’t want to risk exhausting her so I am going to her after Harrenhal.”

Alys hums and then draws out a deep breath as her looks give a flicker of pity. “I had your husband's bones wrapped. All that’s left is you putting them on a pyre.”

You swallow thickly and nod stiffly in comprehension before you look down at the rings around your fingers. “I’ll do it after dinner. When the sun sets. I don’t want to leave him waiting longer.”

Alys nods once and as you look up at her face you see her eyes once again drift past your shoulders. You follow her line of gaze by peering over your shoulder and notice Torrhen approaching hesitantly.

“Mother?” He calls out quietly and you flash him a smile before you turn swiftly and meet him halfway to walk him toward Alys.

“Alys you remember Torrhen, don’t you?” You ask with hints of excitement as you show off your son to your friend—“Torrhen this is Alys Rivers. My friend. You met her once when you were fairly young so I don’t think you remember her, but this is her.”

There's a flicker of recognition that flashes in his grey eyes as he takes in the woman who has not aged a day since the time she went to visit Winterfell.

“Hello, it’s nice to see you again,” he greets her kindly, making her close the gap between them by grabbing his face and looking deep into his eyes with a narrowed gaze filled with curiosity.

“Gods,” she mutters. “You look every bit like your father. Shame.”

“Alys,” you exclaim with a wobbly smile threatening to spread on your lips.

Said woman lets Torrhen go and steps away, letting your son pass you a concerned look that you try to assure by caressing his arm.

“Do you have your mother's talent?” She asks your son and his eyes dart to you before they find her again and he shakes his head.

“No.”

Alys sighs with disappointment before she turns to you and asks for your permission to take him to help him, and you of course give it to her with a single nod out of desperation.

“Torrhen,” you say and bring his attention back to you whilst Alys walks closer to the weeping face carved on the tree. “I want you to go with Alys right now and let her help you.”

Your son's dark eyebrows slowly knot together and he probes. “What? Why?”

You exhale deeply and grab his hand to offer him your explanation. “I mentioned that she can do magic and she also has visions. Do you remember?”

He nods and you sigh and continue softer.

“Well, she might be able to help you understand what you can do in ways I never could. So I need you to be honest with her, okay? Tell her everything you dream and see, hm?”

He blinks slowly and interjects with a hint of disbelief. “You told her about my visions and dreams?”

You nod and his jaw hardens as his lips form to a small and displeased pout.

“I’ve seen you, Torrhen. It all takes so much from you, especially lately. I just want to offer you a solution, okay, so please for me,” you press and touch your chest. “Let her help you. She won’t take them away but maybe she can offer some relief to all the chaos, hm?”

Torrhen clenches his jaw harder but a huff of air runs out of his nose before he faces you again and hesitantly nods.

“Good,” you whisper and stroke his cheek before you step away from him and turn your head to Alys to offer her a small smile before leaving the Godswood.

After that before dinner and during dinner, you bask in the bliss that you feel over having almost all your kids under one roof again. Rickon and Daenys are missing but you don’t let who you’re missing stop the joy bursting in your heart. You know what awaits you later, and all the feelings that will come with it so for now, before you’re riddled with grief, you find joy in the sound of all your children’s laughs.

You admire the way Cregan interacts with Maekor’s twin sons, while also helping him create those splendid memories in your grandson's minds. You coddle Alysanne as she demands your affection in what she calls her time of need, but in doing so you also feel pride and happiness as you see how much Ellis loves and cares for Alysanne. He might look intimidating as he towers over with his tall and slim figure, and with his dark hair and the mysterious way he looks at the world, but he’s really sweet, funny, and affectionate. He surely makes Alysanne feel better as she deals with a wave of different emotions during her pregnancy, and that makes you glad; it reminds you of Cregan and you when you were with child multiple times throughout your life, letting you know that you couldn’t have asked for better for your daughter because Cregan has always been so good.

Moreover, you continue to get drunk in the buzzing emotions, in the way Daenerys and Aerion look out for each other as their brothers get carried away with the wine and pull them into their madness. You watch the way Maekor’s wife fails at reining him in as he’s too driven by his high from being with his brothers. You even join Jacaerys in singing a few sailor shanties and upbeat songs.

There’s only short moments of silence here and there but life travels through the haunting halls of Harrenhal. Even when you drift away and at last bring yourself to what’s left of Aemond Targaryen; your uncle, best friend, and great, epic love of your life.

“<I'm sorry it took so long,>” you talk to the perfectly wrapped bones laid down on the stone table. “<I thought they’d never find you, but here you are. I’m sorry.>”

You get closer and closer, with each step feeling a heavy weight of grief and sorrow that you haven’t felt in a long time fall over your chest and push you down and further down while faded memories once so vivid swirl through your mind.

“<Your face is a blur,” you admit, “I’m older now, but I have not forgotten you, I swear. And I still miss you.>”

You reach the side of the table he was left on and feel your breath shudder and a grip tighten around your throat.

“<You must have been lonely, Aemond. Oh…Aemond. Why didn’t you listen to me?>” You ask a pile of hollow bones with tears crawling to your eyes and making your voice sound shaky. “<Why did you have to be so driven by your ego? We…” you pause and draw in a shaky breath. “The truth is I’m happy with the life I have. I built it. Me. Yes, there are bad moments, but I made this life I’m living now. I built my family with my husband. I have loved like my mother. I have taught my children to love the same way my brothers and I loved each other…the same way my mother taught us how to love, so I can’t say I wish my life was different, but…but…>” You sniffle and press your hands on the surface of the table.

“<…There are times when I wonder what our life would have looked like. Would it have been as beautiful?>” You ask the emptiness of the room where his ghost doesn’t even linger. It’s just the presence of his remains, you, and the dancing flames giving the chambers light.

“<I like to think so because I knew you. You had a good heart and you just wanted to be loved…>” you scoff softly and finally lift your hand off your side to very slowly and carefully lay your hand on his head, feeling a wave of sorrow hit your heart and causing streams of tears to break out of your eyes.

“<I wish my love could have been enough for you Aemond,” you whisper and lower your lips to his head. “But as selfish as you were about my love and you loving me, it didn’t satisfy you. That’s why you’re gone and I’m sorry for it. I’m sorry for everything. Even though I was unfaithful, even though I was mad you killed my brother and my grandmother, even though…so many other things I still loved you with all my heart. I still do. I love you as if you were still alive. I will love you forever.>” You finish and breathe out before you press a gentle kiss on his forehead and keep your lips pressed against the cold surface.

The door proceeds to creak as it opens, causing you to stand up to your given height and steal a peek over your shoulder. When you catch Aerion walking in you wipe the tears off your face and let out another breath before interjecting.“Are you ready?”

Aerion sighs deeply. “Mother.”

“Do you want time with him?” You ask as you think that’s why he called out to you, but when you turn around to face him he doesn’t look sorrowful, he looks like he’s dreading having to say something.

“What is it?” You ask curiously

Aerion draws out another heavy breath and takes a step forward before he swallows nervously and shares what he’s keeping inside. “I will not take part in the funeral.”

You scoff and confusion flickers on your face. “What do you mean?” You mutter. “He was your father Aerion.”

Said man shakes his head stiffly. “No. He was not. Cregan was my father, Ser Cane and Corlys were my father, Aemond Targaryen never was. He might be the reason I am here, but he is no father of mine,” he finishes with a hint of disgust and your face falls with utter disbelief.

“That’s why Daenys is not here either,” he adds and drops his head to talk to the ground. “She wanted no part in it either. We are sorry for you, mother, but we do not care for him.”

“Aerion,” you warn with no actual threat in your voice.

“Do you really expect me to grieve for a man who took part in the reason our family was killed? A man who was at fault for why my grandmother is not here?”

“He had no fault in that,” you cut in for Aemond’s defense. “You know that. He might have been against my mother, but I was too at some point.”

“But you never killed your brothers—”

“He did not kill his brothers,” you cut him off but he quickly snaps back.

“That’s not the point!” He heaves and you look at him bewildered as he meets your gaze with the same eyes of the man he despises—“He was a bad man, who left. Every chance he had to stay with us he used to turn around and leave. I will not grieve for someone like that. His blood may run through my veins but I will never call him father. I will never remember him as such, and I will never claim him as such either. I am sorry mother.”

Aerion steps toward you and cups your shoulder to lean in and press a kiss on your cheek before he abandons the room and leaves you alone, letting you let out a small sob.

What could you say to make him feel otherwise? His mind is made about his father and he has a right to feel what he wants because he’s a grown man. You can’t beg him to look at things differently, you’ll probably talk to him but never beg him.

If only he could remember how much his father really loved him, but alas…he can’t.

“I guess it is just me and you, huh?” You direct to Aemond’s remains as you turn and face him again. “It’s okay. You always preferred it that way anyway.”

You let out a deep, shaky breath and then collect his remains to walk out to the pyre that was built for you and place his remains on top.

When the remains are where you want them to be you step away and that’s when it sets that Aerion kept his word; he doesn’t come. No one does and you don’t expect anyone to join you because no one knew him but you, and he would have hated it if Cregan were in attendance so it’s just you, Ser Cane, and Astraea standing around the pyre, but you’re the only one grieving him.

Alas, in the silence of the night of Aemond’s lonely funeral, as you hesitate setting his remains ablaze, two pairs of footsteps echo as they approach, so with the little energy you have you look back and gasp softly when you see Daenerys and Alysanne are joining you.

“Maekor and the others are drunk and we didn’t want them to ruin it, so we came alone,” Daenerys shares before you can ask what she’s doing out here. “We didn’t want you to be alone. And father didn’t want you to be alone either.”

You sniffle as your heart swoons and you mewl as your emotions get the best of you. “Thank you, my girls.”

Alysanne wraps her arm around your shoulders and Daenerys holds your hand, giving you the strength you need to at last say the word to send Aemond off at long last.

“Dracarys.”

.

.

.

.

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Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens @silverlightsaber @rosey1981 @amortentiaaaa

[archivequinn]

MADNESS (Eddie Munson x American Horror Story: Asylum)

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five

Summary: Three years after his disappearance, Eddie Munson is arrested for the murders of Chrissy Cunningham, Fred Benson, Patrick McKinney and others, but the truth is very different. Unable to convince anyone that Vecna exists and that he is innocent, he is locked up in an asylum. But the only way out is to prove to his psychiatrist that he is not insane. If he fails to convince the psychiatrist, he will be executed as a murderer. He must hurry to do so, because Vecna has returned to finish the bloody unfinished business and take revenge.

As Eddie fights for his life, how far can his psyhiatrist go to save him when she finds out he is innocent? Perhaps the only reason his psychiatrist wants to save him is not because of Eddie's innocence, but because they have developed feelings for each other over time. In the midst of all this confusion, a series of secret experiments on patients in the mental hospital and a series of dark secrets make everything more difficult.

Warnings: Blood and Injury, Mentions of execution, Execution, Death, Mental Health Issues, Asylum, Mental Hospital, Horror, Psychological Horror, Survival Horror, Thriller, Claustrophobia, Prison, Doctor/Patient, Serial Killers, Hospitals, Pain, Depression, Violence, Blood and Violence, Suicidal Thoughts, death of a family member, Nudity, Smut, Sex, Slow Burn, Experiments, Explicit Sexual Content, TraumaPost-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Disorders, Smoking.

Before you read:)

This fan fiction is inspired by American Horror Story: Asylum. It contains a lot of horror and thriller content. Since the story takes place in a mental hospital, there may be various triggers. Please check the tags first as there is a lot of violence, sexuality and depression contents. This story is for adults, so close the page if you are a minor.

Please let me know if there are any tags I forgot to add. read on ao3

Dr. Oliver Owsen was deeply interested in what Arthur had been doing. In short, he was searching for someone named Ginny. After checking all the hospitals, he had come here as a last resort. One of the reasons that brought him here was that Dr. Arthur had also worked at the last hospital where Ginny was seen—at least, that’s what Violet had learned. 

Who was Ginny? How did Oliver know her? Why was he looking for her? Frankly, Violet didn’t care much. The only thing she cared about was that she was tired of all the dirty dealings in this hospital always going unpunished. Someone needed to expose everything happening in this place.

Apparently, Violet no longer had the authority or power to do that. But she could help someone who did—namely, Dr. Oliver Owsen.

After finishing her therapy session with Oliver, she glanced over at Eddie, who was whispering but speaking heatedly with someone in the corner. Because of his fluffy curly hair and tall stature, she couldn’t see who he was talking to.

She went over to John and Max and gestured toward them with her head. “What’s going on over there?”

John rolled his eyes and sighed. “Our only ticket out of here just flew out the window. The guys who were supposed to get us out have now come inside. ”

Violet frowned. “Steve is here?” John sighed again in frustration and threw himself onto the couch. “Steve and his buddy. Now we have two more people we need to keep safe.”

Violet wondered what they were talking about. Eddie’s anxious appearance was fueling the growing fear inside her. When the door to the common room opened, everyone turned their heads in that direction. Prosecutor Robert Hills had finally graced them with his presence.

As Violet tried to predict his next moves, she noticed Eddie clenching his fists and shooting hateful glares at Robert. The tension escalated as Robert approached; Eddie looked like a tiger waiting to pounce.

Robert, however, walked calmly as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t turned their lives into hell. Without looking at anyone, he went directly to Max, extended his hand, and introduced himself.

“Hello, Max, I’m Robert Hills, the prosecutor in the Eddie Munson case,” he said with a fake smile. “We’ve actually met before, but at that time, you had just come out of a coma. I understand you want to update your statement. The necessary procedures have been completed for your release. Come to my office, and we’ll update your statement. Afterward, you’ll be able to leave this place by the afternoon.”

When Max looked nervously at Violet, she nodded in approval. At least someone would get out of here.

After Max left, Eddie, Steve, and a blond young man approached Violet. When the young man extended his hand, Violet shook it and learned that his name was Jonathan.

“We need to make a plan with you. But not here. Where’s the safest place?” Eddie asked, quickly darting his eyes around at everyone. Steve and Jonathan shrugged and looked at each other. “They haven’t given us a room yet,” Steve replied. Violet raised her hand and said, “Max is staying in my room. She could return from Robert’s office at any moment.” Eddie put his hands on his hips and turned to John. John, somehow, had produced a chocolate bar and was eating it. With his mouth full, he looked at each of them in turn and said indifferently, “What?”

John’s single room looked like a five-star hotel suite to Violet. While the double rooms gave off the impression of a mousetrap, this one felt relatively spacious. Jonathan had brought a chair from the common room and was sitting with his feet propped against the headboard of the bed. Steve sat on the floor, leaning against the wall. John had sprawled across the bed so much that Eddie and Violet were forced to squeeze into one corner of it.

Eddie smiled and patted his knee twice—a wordless way of saying, “Come on.” Violet smiled back, got up, and sat on Eddie’s leg. Wrapping her hands around his neck, she rested her head against his soft hair. Eddie’s scent and warmth created a brief wave of calm within her.

John pulled a lighter out of his pocket and flicked it on. “So, you want me to burn a little girl now, is that it?” he said, examining the lighter closely.

Jonathan replied, “Not burn her, just bring the flame close. If she gets scared, we can figure out if Vecna has taken her or if he’s still inside her.” John rolled his eyes and said mockingly, “ Of course she’d get scared, genius. Everyone’s afraid of fire.” Then, suddenly, he thrust the lighter toward Jonathan. Jonathan toppled off his chair, and Eddie’s giggling filled the room. Violet, sitting in Eddie’s lap, couldn’t help but chuckle as she felt the vibration of his laughter.

Steve said, “It’s not logical to burn her, but we could touch her with something heated by the lighter,” his face thoughtful.

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “You do realize we’re talking about a person, right?” he asked.

John added dramatically, “Also, I don’t want to go down in history as an arsonist. I don’t want to be the first person people think of when they hear the word ‘fire.’ ”

Violet bit her lip, smiling. “I think you’re a bit late for that.”

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Eddie said, “Something keeps poking me. Dude, your bed is so uncomfortable.” He looked annoyed. John smirked slyly, and Eddie gave him a suspicious look. “What are you up to?” he asked.

When Eddie lifted the cushion on the bed, the pile of junk food, cigarettes, and cassette tapes underneath. Eddie turned to Violet with a mocking expression. “And we thought the real spy was Robert. Turns out the real sneaky one was right next to us all along,” he said.

Folding her arms across her chest, Violet asked, “How did you even get all this stuff in here?”

John put on an innocent expression, pursing his lips and raising his hands. “If you had a brother working here, you’d also have someone bringing you whatever you wanted,” he said.

Suddenly, Steve stood up excitedly. “This brother of yours… Can he smuggle anything in?” he asked.

Eddie placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder, smirking. “I don’t think he can smuggle in what you’re thinking about, dude,” he said with a sarcastic grin.

Steve stared at Eddie for a few seconds, then raised his hands. “No, you idiot. I’m not talking about what you think,” he said.

As Eddie burst into laughter, Violet realized his joy came from being surrounded by his friends. Even in the midst of all this chaos, Eddie’s happiness was contagious. He was like a bond that brought his friends together. Somehow, even in these tough times, being with them gave Eddie a small sense of peace.

John asked, “Hey Steve, what do you need? What’s on your mind?”

Steve said, “If your brother can smuggle in a heater or something similar, Violet could say she’s cold in her cell and turn it on. That way, we wouldn’t have to burn Max, and we could still learn if she’s sensitive to heat.”

John threw himself onto the bed with a disappointed look on his face. “Brendon can only smuggle things as big as what he can fit in his pocket,” he said.

Eddie added, “And even if he did smuggle in a heater like you said, we don’t have sockets in our rooms.”

Jonathan turned his chair backward and leaned his head against the backrest. “Besides, Max is leaving in a few hours. So this plan wouldn’t work,” he said.

“Maybe you could’ve just asked,” said a sudden voice.

Everyone turned to see Max standing at the door. She rolled her eyes, walked toward them, and took the lighter from John’s hand. She lit the flame and brought her hand close to it, almost touching it. She didn’t react at all and then shrugged as she looked at them.

“I mean, there are five of you, but if I added all your brains together, it wouldn’t equal Nancy’s.”

As Violet looked on curiously, wondering who Nancy was, the others all nodded in unison. The three of them moved so in sync, it was like watching the three wise monkeys.

Max clenched her fist and held it out toward Eddie. Eddie mirrored her gesture and bumped fists with her.

Max continued, “I changed my statement about you, Eddie. The prosecutor said you might be able to get out of here in a day or two. Oh, and he’s waiting for you in his office now. As for me, I’m leaving. This madness is too much, even for me and even they call me MAD MAX.”

She finished her sentence with a laugh, but as she smiled, her eyes filled with tears. She hugged Eddie tightly.

“I’ll be waiting for you, Eddie. You’re the big brother I never had but always wanted. I’m sorry for everything that happened. I love you.”

It was clear that Eddie was struggling to swallow the lump in his throat. He hugged Max back in return.

Violet silently made a wish: I hope it happens as she said. I hope Eddie gets out of here.

Eddie opened the door to the prosecutor’s office and stepped inside. He hadn’t bothered to knock, not even out of courtesy. He went straight to the chair and sat down. Prosecutor Robert was organizing files with the male nurse standing beside him. This nurse was the same jerk who had taken Eddie to his cell on his first day at the mental hospital.

Robert picked up a piece of paper, held it up in the air, and shook it noticeably. “Do you know what this is, Edward? ” he asked. “Eddie,” Eddie replied calmly. He hated being called Edward.

Robert continued, “This is your ticket out of here, Edward. It’s the petition Max wrote, saying you’re innocent. I could send it right now, this very minute, and you’d be a free man tomorrow.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, already guessing where this was headed. “But?” he asked tersely.

Robert stood up and began speaking as he gazed out the window. “But your girlfriend and your friend will stay here. I don’t think you’ll ever see them again.”

He then picked up a blank sheet of paper and placed a pen from his pocket onto the desk. “If you write here that you take full responsibility for everything and claim that Max wrote the petition out of fear, then maybe I’ll give a statement saying you’re insane. That way, you, your girlfriend, and your friend can live happily here forever.”

Eddie crossed his arms and spoke with determination, “No. I’m getting out of here. Then I’ll take Violet and John with me. And there’s no way you’re going to make me do this.”

Robert leaned forward, placing both hands on the desk as he fixed his serious gaze on Eddie. “Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough. Edward, if you don’t write what I’ve told you, you’ll be the only one responsible for what happens next,” he said in a threatening tone.

Eddie gritted his teeth. “What are you going to do? Rat us out again, you Snitch Snitchson?” he shot back.

Robert responded with a filthy grin. “How about we give your girlfriend a nice volt of electricity right in front of your eyes, Edward? Will you still keep up this defiance then?”

When Eddie walked out of Robert's office, his hands were trembling. The prosecutor had given him two days to think, but there was nothing Eddie needed to think about. He would never allow Violet to be electrocuted.

But he didn’t trust Robert either. If he wrote the statement taking responsibility for the crimes, he was told he’d be deemed insane and allowed to stay there. But what if it was a lie? What if Robert took that statement and used it as evidence?

In that case, Eddie would be doomed, and Violet would never get out of here. He felt like a rat cornered in a trap.

He walked into the common room and looked for Steve and Jonathan. However, none of his friends were there. His eyes landed on Brendon, who was trying to get an old woman to drink soup.

Eddie approached him and asked, “Where’s John? Violet? Or the other two idiots?”

Brendon paused for a moment, his gaze drifting to the wall. “John’s in his cell. I don’t know where the two idiots are. I think they went to beg Manager Wilson to let them share the same cell. As for Violet, I last saw her with Doctor Oliver,” he said.

Eddie’s already frayed nerves worsened. He didn’t like Oliver at all; there was something off about that man, he thought. Deciding that John was the easiest person to locate, he headed toward the cells. Just as he reached the hall, he saw John walking toward him, grinning.

“Dude, you won’t believe what happened,” John was saying.

The only thought running through Eddie’s mind was: Wait until you hear mine, John.

John’s gaze turned to Eddie with concern. “What’s wrong?” he asked. Eddie was about to start talking when he saw Steve and Jonathan approaching from a distance. He gathered all three of them and led them to the cafeteria. Since no food was served at this hour, the place was quiet. Once everyone sat around the table, Eddie explained the blackmail Robert had used against him.

Steve suddenly stood up and started pacing around the table. His tension was evident in every movement. “Dude, you can’t write that statement. It’s obviously a trap. He’s going to take that paper from you and have you executed. The guy’s too smart,” he said. John, however, responded with a hesitant expression, “But if you don’t write it, they’ll torture Violet.” Jonathan, trying to lighten the weight of the situation, said, “Do you think Vecna’s inside this Robert guy?”

Eddie frowned as he spoke. “Could be. The guy has this grudge against me that I can’t figure out. Anyone would think I killed all his loved ones.” Steve sat back down and took a deep breath. “So, what are we going to do?” he asked. Jonathan followed with a question that hung in the air. “Do we have to escape again?”

Eddie shook his head as he answered. “We can’t escape. Oliver told Violet that all the patients in Ward C have been moved. I’m sure they’ve locked the doors too. We’re stuck here.” Steve, searching for a glimmer of hope, said, “Max got out. They’ll help us once they realize we haven’t left.” But Eddie still had doubts. “What if it’s too late?”

At that moment, everyone at the table seemed to focus their attention on the door. When Eddie looked, he saw Violet and Oliver walking toward them. Rolling his eyes, he muttered in a jealous tone, “One day, I’m going to land a good punch on that Oliver.”

When Violet reached them, she sat next to Eddie and took his hand. Oliver, on the other hand, started shaking everyone’s hands one by one. When he reached Eddie, Eddie only touched his hand lightly and responded with a fake smile.

Violet spoke with a serious expression on her face. “Oliver has something to tell you.” Eddie turned his head as if uninterested, but curiosity was growing inside him.

Oliver began to speak. “I know about the experiments and filth that Arthur has done. And I know he values those experiments too much to destroy them all at once. Those patients are somewhere in this hospital right now. I know that. And I’m sure, after your escape plan, he’s no longer keeping those files in the manager’s office. He must be keeping them in his own operating room. I’ve tried to get in there, but unfortunately, I’ve failed. No one can enter there except the assistant he keeps by his side.”

Eddie’s voice broke the silence in the room. “I’ve been inside,” he said.

Everyone turned to look at him. John had his head down, staring at his shoes, as if he already knew the answer. “When they gave me the electric shocks... I was in his operating room,” Eddie added. John raised his head slightly and spoke. “There’s only one way to get in there, and I can tell you it’s going to hurt.” Oliver slammed the table in frustration. “Great. Just great. So how are we supposed to get in?” Eddie fixed his gaze on Oliver. “Why do you even want to help us? What’s in it for you?” This question made Violet squeeze Eddie’s hand, but Eddie’s mind was elsewhere. He could understand John—he had followed Arthur this far and ended up stuck here. Violet was in trouble because she wanted to help Eddie. And Eddie himself had become a target after uncovering Arthur’s experiments. But what was Oliver’s motivation?

Oliver pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, his eyes turning to Violet. “He’s not the first doctor to fall in love with his patient,” he said. Eddie was confused. Was he in love with Violet? He opened his mouth to say something, but Oliver, realizing the misunderstanding, raised his hand to stop him. “No, not Violet. Ginny. I fell in love with her. She was transferred to another hospital at the time. I planned to follow her to wherever she went. But I couldn’t find her anywhere I went. It was like she had disappeared. There was no record of her anywhere. At the last hospital she was seen in, there were reports of other missing cases. Guess who the doctor there was?”

John, clenching his teeth, answered, “Arthur.” That single word revealed the weight of John’s guilt.

Jonathan, processing Oliver’s words, asked, “So, one of the patients in Ward C that he’s experimenting on could be Ginny?” Oliver shrugged as if to say he didn’t know, but his expression showed he thought it was possible.

Steve voiced his thoughts aloud. “Since we can’t just go up to the guy and say, ‘Hey, experiment on us too,’ or, ‘Go ahead and fry us like potatoes...’” John paused for a moment and looked into Eddie’s eyes. Then he turned to Violet.

Eddie shook his head in refusal. Jonathan and Steve understood the situation, but Oliver and Violet were looking at them with curiosity.

Violet, unable to bear it any longer, asked, “What’s going on here?” Steve turned to Eddie, about to say something. “Robert made Eddie an offer…” he began, but Eddie kicked him under the table. Steve groaned in pain. Violet suddenly stood up, crossing her arms, and spoke in a stern voice. “ I said, what is going on here?”

Eddie realized he had no choice but to tell the truth. With a sigh, he stood up, placed his hands on Violet's head, gently pulled her closer, and looked into her eyes. "Robert said he’d declare me insane in court if I wrote a letter confessing to all the crimes. And if I don’t... he said he’d torture you," he said.

Violet frowned as she looked at Eddie. "You didn’t agree to write the letter, did you?" she asked.

Eddie’s voice trembled, and he struggled to find the words. "How could I not? Violet... If they touch you, I’d die. I can’t let that happen," he said.

Violet stepped back, her expression revealing her anger. "If you write that letter, Eddie, you silly, the first thing Robert will do is drag you out of here and take you to court. You have a chance to escape, Eddie. Nobody else here does, but you do. You will never write that letter," she snapped.

She stepped forward, placing her hands on Eddie's face. Eddie put his hands on hers in return. Tears were streaming down Violet’s cheeks. Eddie’s eyes were also filling with tears. "You will never write that letter, Eddie. Promise me," Violet said, her voice trembling.

Eddie found it hard to respond to her insistence. "Violet..." was all he could say. "Promise me!" Violet shouted, tears streaming down faster.

Eddie pulled Violet close and rested her head against his chest. He held her tightly as sobs echoed through the room, placing his head to stop hers. For a moment, silence enveloped them both.

Oliver broke the moment. "Actually..." he said, as though a new idea had just occurred to him.

Everyone turned to look at him. His expression suggested he had figured something out.

John intervened quietly, "This could be really dangerous."

Oliver continued to explain his plan. "Just five minutes is enough. Less than five minutes, even."

Eddie and the others tried to grasp what he was suggesting. John, however, seemed to have already figured it out. Still, the group turned their expectant gazes toward Oliver, waiting for clarification.

Oliver elaborated. "When they take Violet into that operating room, you’ll go into the operating room too, Eddie. Isn’t that right? They’ll make you watch as they torture her. The door will be open. There’ll be staff. There’ll be doctors, nurses. It’ll be a crowded room, and while everyone is focused on the girl being tortured, no one will notice someone rifling through cabinets and drawers."

Steve interjected, " Someone who works there..."

Jonathan picked up the thought, "Like Brendon. "

Eddie raised his hand in frustration and let out a hysterical laugh. "Do you realize what you’re planning?" he said, his voice full of anger.

Violet turned to Eddie and said resolutely, "Let’s do it."

Eddie shot Violet a sharp look, grabbed her by the shoulders, and shook her angrily. "Violet. I will never allow such a thing. Never," he said.

As Eddie’s anger made his breaths heavy, his thoughts echoed in his mind. He wouldn’t watch them torture her. Not for five minutes, not even for a second. The plan was to steal the files while everyone was distracted with Violet. But for Eddie, this was unacceptable. If he were the one lying on that table, he would do it willingly. He had done it before, and just remembering the pain made his whole body tremble. But for Violet, never.

"What if the files aren’t where you think they are?" Eddie asked, his voice a mix of anger and worry. "What if someone notices you before you even get there? And let’s say you get the files. Then what happens to Violet?"

Violet took Eddie’s trembling hand and brought it to her lips. Her gesture was meant to both calm him and provide comfort in this difficult situation.

John stood up and came over to Eddie. Trying to encourage him, he spoke softly, "Do you remember the song you sang to Violet, Eddie?"

Everyone was looking at Eddie with sad expressions. However, expecting him to agree to this plan didn’t seem very fair. The anger and helplessness within Eddie were written all over his face. John continued speaking.

“You've got to lose to know how to win,” he said. It was a quote from the song Dream On that Eddie had once told Violet.

“We won’t let anything happen to Violet. We all love her so much. But we have no other choice. If they send you to your death, then how do you plan to protect Violet when you’re dead? Don’t rely on me; I’m the arsonist. Remember? After you, I’ll be the first one they come for.”

Oliver spoke, trying to calm the situation. “We’ll be quick. We promise,” he said.

Violet looked into Eddie’s eyes with a deep expression. “Can we talk for a moment?” she asked. She took Eddie by the arm and pulled him a little further away from the others. Eddie was struggling to control his emotions. If he weren’t so ashamed, he would have collapsed to the floor in sobs. Violet’s determination, however, was hidden behind the tears in her eyes.

“I can endure five minutes,” Violet said. The determination in her voice made Eddie feel even more helpless.

“I know the dose they give. I know this torture they used to do in the past. As long as they don’t exceed a certain dose, I can endure it. When I confronted Wilson about it, he said they only give the ‘legally permitted’ dose. That makes it 100 volts. Five minutes won’t cause severe trauma to my body. I’ll just recover slower than you did. Maybe by then, we’ll be free.”

Eddie gritted his teeth as he looked at Violet. “No matter what I say, you won’t back down, will you?” he asked.

Violet slowly shook her head to indicate no. Her decision was final. Eddie realized that she would proceed with this dangerous plan with or without him. If it was going to happen, at least he had to be by her side.

Together, they returned to the others. The group, looking at them with curious eyes, was impatient to learn what their decision was. Eddie carefully raised his finger and pointed at each of them one by one.

“If anything happens to her, it’s on you. I will never forgive you,” he said. His face was serious and threatening. These words created a slight sense of relief within the group, but the fear was still evident in their eyes.

Oliver finalized the plan and distributed tasks. “Go and tell Robert that you’ve rejected his offer. John, you go and inform Brendon. When they take Violet, we’ll be ready. As soon as we get the files, you tell Robert you’ll write the statement he wants. When they take Violet to the infirmary, we’ll get you all out of here. But we can’t all fit in one car.”

Violet smiled. This smile lightened the tension in the room, even if just a little. “My car is still parked outside. I’m sure the keys are in the guesthouse. You get the keys, and we’ll find someone to drive,” she said.

Steve raised his hand and volunteered. “I’ll drive.”

When Eddie told Robert that he was rejecting his offer, the expression of shock on Robert's face said it all. He had been completely sure his plan would work, but seeing Eddie refuse the offer made it inevitable that he would become suspicious. In response, Eddie, thinking that Robert might already be suspecting something, bluffed, “You wouldn’t dare anyway.” But deep down, he knew Robert would.

In the dim light of the room, Eddie held Violet tightly. Today could be the day. They had to understand that sometimes you have to lose to win. His eyes had been brimming with tears since the morning, and now they were starting to burn. As the memories of what he had experienced in this room before came rushing back, he began to tremble.

When they started laying Violet down on that stretcher, he questioned how he had been convinced to go along with such a stupid plan.

He tried to stand up and go to Violet, but the guards immediately moved to grab him by the arms and forced him back into the chair. His attempts to intervene were futile. As they began smearing that gelatinous, sticky substance on Violet’s forehead, the helplessness inside him grew.

“Stop! I’ll write the statement! Wait! Don’t do this! Don’t touch her!” he shouted.

Violet looked at him and gave him a pained smile, a single tear sliding down her cheek. She slowly shook her head, signaling no. At that moment, Eddie froze. Was this all part of a plan?

The door opened, and Brendon entered the room. His icy blue eyes met Eddie’s, and he shook his head no. Eddie wondered why Brendon wasn’t rummaging through the cabinets and hurrying to find the files. His mind was in chaos… but deep down, he knew the truth.

Violet had planned everything, solely to prevent Eddie from writing that statement and taking the blame. There were no files to be found, and no one was coming to retrieve those stupid files.

Eddie was furious with himself for even thinking that the files might still be there. Those men had probably already fed them to the shredder.

Violet had warned the others to stop Eddie from surrendering himself and ending up in the electric chair. She had orchestrated this as a way to sacrifice herself to save him. And now, Eddie was forced to watch her suffer.

He struggled against the chair, but three men held him down tightly, making it impossible to move. The tears streaming down his face blurred his vision.

Robert walked around to stand behind Eddie, placed his hands on Eddie’s shoulders, and forced his head to stay fixed on Violet. Leaning down, he mockingly whispered in Eddie’s ear, “I hope your freedom is worth this, Munson.”

Eddie tried to turn his head, but no matter what he did, it was useless. His movements were completely ineffective. Arthur stuffed a cloth resembling a gag into Violet’s mouth.

“Try not to scream too much,” he said before putting on his gloves.

Eddie was overwhelmed with unbearable helplessness. His voice had gone hoarse from screaming, and now all he could do was plead in faint whispers. Arthur turned to the nurse beside him and calmly gave instructions.

“Let’s start with 150 volts.”

“Please stop!” Eddie screamed. Manager Wilson and several guards had also entered the room, making it so crowded that it was difficult to move. Three guards held Eddie down firmly, while Robert kept his head fixed on Violet. Two nurses were holding Violet down on the bed.

Violet’s hands and feet were tightly strapped to the bed. One of the nurses was waiting to check her pulse, while the other was ensuring Violet didn’t move too much during the electroshock. The nurse picked up the electroshock device next to the machine and handed it to Arthur.

Everyone in the room watched in fear, wondering if Arthur would really go through with it. As Arthur prepared the shock device, a nun entered the room and stood by Violet’s bedside. “May God forgive your sins,” she whispered to Violet.

Violet’s fear-filled eyes were testing Eddie’s limits. Eddie was crying so much he could no longer speak. With all the strength he had left, he begged Robert.

“I’ll write whatever you want. I’ll sign anything you ask. Kill me right now. Please, kill me. I’m begging you, kill me but don’t let them touch her!”

Eddie glanced at Brendon, hoping he might help somehow, but Brendon was just standing there, frozen in fear, waiting for what was about to happen. At this point, only God could help them.

Dr. Arthur positioned the shock device on Violet’s head. He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall, then took a deep breath.

Arthur turned to Eddie and yelled angrily, “Shut him up, or I’ll increase the voltage!”

Robert grabbed one of the cloths from the nearby table and shoved it harshly into Eddie’s mouth. Eddie’s screams echoed throughout the room. Even God seemed to have abandoned them.

When Arthur pressed the button on the control panel, one of the nurses holding Violet checked the pulse in her neck. The other glanced at her watch while gripping Violet’s arm tightly. The nun standing at the head of the bed tried to steady the part of the electroshock device touching Violet’s head. The electricity was so strong that the lights on the ceiling dimmed and flickered constantly. Eddie’s guttural, animal-like cries grew more muffled.

Arthur spoke without taking his eyes off the device. “Let’s make it 200 volts.”

Brendon stepped forward and shouted angrily, “Are you insane?! You’re going to kill her!”

Arthur ignored Brendon’s words as if they were nothing more than the buzzing of a fly. He continued turning the dial on the machine to increase the voltage. One of the nurses holding Violet shouted in a panicked voice, “Her pulse is racing! She can’t take it!”

Violet’s initial screams had turned into gasps and choking sounds, as though she were struggling to breathe. Her entire body convulsed uncontrollably. Tears streamed from her eyes, and her entire body trembled, down to every strand of hair. Meanwhile, Eddie was writhing in helpless desperation, the nails of those restraining him digging into his skin.

Suddenly, Robert exclaimed, “What the hell is that? For Christ’s sake…” Everyone turned their heads to follow Robert’s gaze. The nun had momentarily pulled the electroshock device away from Violet’s head.

Violet continued to convulse. The electricity coursing through her body caused her muscles and joints to seize involuntarily.

At first, Eddie thought everyone was staring at him. But when Robert slowly removed his hands from Eddie’s head and stepped back, Eddie lifted his head and followed Robert’s gaze. Looking at the door, Eddie realized that everyone in the room was staring in fear at the same spot.

It all happened in an instant. When Eddie looked in that direction, he nearly fell off his chair in terror. The nurse standing next to Brendon was slowly rising into the air. Her pupils had turned completely white, and she appeared to be in a trance. Eddie had seen this sight before. Three times, to be exact: with Chrissy, Jason’s friend Patrick, and Violet.

It was him. Vecna was here.

As everyone ran toward the nurse now floating near the ceiling, Arthur, Wilson, and Robert seemed frozen in shock, rooted to the spot. Eddie’s thoughts were clear: He wasn’t crazy. He wasn’t a killer. The proof was here, alive, for everyone to see. Now everyone would know that Eddie hadn’t made all this up and that everything he’d said was true.

When the nurse’s right arm suddenly snapped, everyone in the room started to scatter in panic. Female nurses and nuns were screaming at the top of their lungs. Eddie began crawling on the floor, trying to make his way toward Violet’s bed. He didn’t care about the kicks and stomps from the frantic people running past him. He couldn’t control his hands or feet out of sheer terror. His brain had shut down, and his movements were reduced to instinctive thrashing. Finally, he reached the stretcher where Violet lay.

Brendon suddenly appeared, running toward him. He grabbed Eddie by the arm and pulled him to his feet. Without saying a word, Brendon began dragging him toward the door. Eddie, bewildered, protested.

“Wait! What are you doing?! I have to get Violet!” he shouted.

Brendon angrily grabbed Eddie by the shoulder and shoved him toward the door. “Go save yourself! Go! I’ll take care of her!” he said firmly.

Eddie tried to re-enter the room, but just then, he saw the lightbulb inside explode. Screams echoed in the darkness. Someone else inside had been taken, now a victim of Vecna.

At the end of the corridor, Steve and Jonathan appeared. They ran toward Eddie and grabbed him by the arms, dragging him away. Eddie resisted with all his might, but when he tried to speak, he felt the pain in his throat. As he saw Brendon rushing back inside, everything became blurry. His vision darkened, and silence enveloped him.

When he opened his eyes again, he realized they were driving through rows of trees. His head was resting against the window, and they were in a car. As his vision cleared, his eyes focused on the sign by the roadside, "Welcome to Hawkins!"

Eddie suddenly straightened up, causing Jonathan, who had been dozing in the seat next to him, to wake up and look at him. “Hey... You’re awake. Are you okay?” Jonathan asked softly.

Eddie realized he was in the back seat. When he looked ahead, he saw Hopper in the driver’s seat and Steve next to him. Both were looking back at him with curious expressions. A frustrated smile spread across Eddie’s face.

“Am I okay?! What am I doing here, huh?! Take me back to the hospital right now!” he yelled angrily.

Jonathan explained in a calm voice, “Your innocence was proven, Eddie. The judge saw Max’s statement. Plus, Manager Wilson signed off this morning saying you’re not insane. Right now, the culprit, ‘Henry,’ is being hunted everywhere. If they can catch him. You’re free now.”

Eddie clenched his teeth and said in an icy voice, “Stop the car.” Hopper kept driving. Eddie shouted louder this time, “I said stop the car!” Hopper slammed the brakes, and the car came to an abrupt halt. Eddie opened the door and started walking away without looking back.

Steve ran after him, trying to catch up. “Eddie! How do you plan to get to Michigan from here?! On foot?!” he asked, concerned.

Eddie stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, and asked without turning around, “Is Violet dead, Steve?”

Steve stayed silent for a while. The expression on his face made it clear he was trying to avoid answering. Eventually, he turned around, looked at the others, and scratched the back of his neck.

Eddie shouted angrily, “Do you expect me to leave her and John there and come here to start my ‘new life’? If they’re still in there and I’m out, it’s my fault! How could you leave without them?!”

Hopper approached him calmly and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Our priority was getting you out, son,” he said in a serious tone.

Eddie took a step back, causing Hopper’s hand to fall from his shoulder. He raised his hands to his head, nearly pulling at his hair. “Take me back there. I need to get them out. I have to save them,” he said. He was trying to speak angrily, but his voice sounded like that of a desperate victim pleading for their life.

This time, Jonathan stepped forward and spoke to Eddie. “Eddie, it was Violet and John who made us promise to get you out of there safely and bring you here. No matter the cost, we swore. They want you to move on with your life.”

Eddie quickly approached Jonathan and shoved him. Jonathan looked surprised but didn’t retaliate. Eddie continued angrily, “Isn’t Nancy your girlfriend? If the same thing happened to her, would you leave her there and move on with your life?”

He stepped aside and then moved toward Steve, shoving him too. “What if it were Robin in there? Isn’t she the sister you never had? Would you leave her there and start a new life?” he said, his voice trembling.

Eddie’s eyes filled with tears as he added, “You might love me, but if I survived in there, it’s because of them. Do you understand what you’re asking of me now?”

Hopper took a deep breath, removed his hat, and held it tightly in his hands. He was trying to find the right words. “Son, even if you went back there right now, they wouldn’t let you see them. We need a plan. Right now, you’re the only witness who knows what’s happening there. We can’t let them take you back inside. We have to think logically,” he said firmly.

Eddie, trying to believe but still hopeless, asked, “How?”

Hopper shrugged and replied, “We’ll get a search warrant. You’ll tell the national media everything that happened there. We’ll shut that disgusting place down for good, and no one will ever go near it again. But we can’t do it this way. Even the worst plan is better than no plan. You can’t just go back there on a whim.”

When Hopper gestured toward the car with his head, Eddie turned back to Jonathan and looked him in the eyes. “Is Violet dead?” he asked.

Steve chose to speak this time. He bit his lip and answered with pain in his voice. “She’s not dead. But it can’t be said that she’s alive either. They practically fried her brain. Filthy bastards,” he said angrily. Eddie, trying to stay calm, walked toward the car. About half an hour later, they reached the town center. But just then, a large crowd began running toward the car. Eddie, trying to figure out what was happening, glanced at the others in the car. They were just as confused as Eddie. When Hopper stopped the car, Eddie slowly got out.

This crowd consisted of the people of Hawkins. Dustin was at the forefront. He ran to Eddie and hugged him, and then the other kids followed, wrapping themselves around him. Max, on the other hand, stood at a distance, looking at Eddie with an embarrassed expression. Her eyes were brimming with tears, and she stood silently.

Max spoke with a trembling voice. “They told you what I did to you… I’m so sorry…” Eddie felt the moment, surrounded by the kids. Struggling, he reached out his hand toward Max. When he made a slight nod, as if to say, “Come on,” Max hesitated no longer and ran to him, hugging him tightly as well. Eddie realized how much he had missed them. These kids were his family. Since his uncle’s death, they had never left him alone. Then, he turned to the crowd waiting ahead. After letting go of the kids, he walked into the midst of the crowd. The expression on everyone’s face was the same: guilt. A deathly silence prevailed. Eddie began looking at the banners they held and read each one out loud, in a clear voice. “We’re so sorry, Eddie.”“We’re so happy you’re back home.”“We knew you were innocent.”“We’re sorry.” As he read each banner, Eddie burst into more hysterical laughter. Eventually, his laughter ceased, and he placed his hands on his hips, giving the crowd a stern look.

“You can take your apologies and shove them up your ass,” he said, as parents hurriedly tried to cover their children’s ears. Eddie stepped closer to them and continued, his voice filled with anger. “Why are you covering their ears? You let them hear the disgusting stories you told about me, didn’t you?” he said, his voice trembling with rage and pain. Eddie looked into each person’s face. He stepped toward the crowd and raised his voice. “A week ago, the same people who wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger if they saw me on the street are now looking me in the face and apologizing, is that it?” he said. The fury in his words pierced through the silence like a knife. He took another step and his tone grew louder. “You’re the same people who didn’t believe me when I said I was innocent, the ones who collected signatures to send me to the electric chair without a trial. Do you realize that?” Hopper, leaning against his car with his hat in hand, watched the scene unfold. Those surrounding Eddie followed his every move, curious about what he would do next. Eddie walked toward the banners in people’s hands. He grabbed them one by one and threw them to the ground. Then he turned to Hopper and asked for his lighter. Hopper silently handed it over. Eddie bent down and lit one of the banners. The fire quickly spread to the others. Eddie stood in front of the burning banners and raised his voice even more. “Because of the music I listen to, the clothes I wear, the hair on my head, because I wasn’t one of you, you've targeted me. Because that’s what you are. You always judge a book by its cover. You called me a murderer, but while the real killer of those kids was out there, you wasted time chasing the wrong person, making you the true killers of lost time. You’re the reason my grieving uncle took his own life. These banners you wrote with your bloodstained hands have now ruined two more innocent lives. If only once… just once, you had chosen to believe me…” Eddie’s throat tightened; he couldn’t swallow. Steve and Robin quietly approached him, taking him by the arms. They tried to lead him away from the crowd. Eddie turned once more to look at the burning banners and the guilt-ridden faces staring back at him. The pain and anger inside him grew larger with each passing moment. This town owed him a youth. It owed him a graduation. It owed him a family.

They were finally sitting in Mike’s house, in the basement. They were waiting for a voice to come through the walkie-talkie placed in the middle of the table. Before leaving the hospital, Steve had left a walkie-talkie with Brendon. Somehow, when the lights went out and the doors were locked, John would be able to reach them through this walkie-talkie.

Eddie’s eyes kept glancing at the clock. He felt like time wasn’t moving. Back in Chassell, evening would fall quickly, and the doors would shut in no time. But here, in Hawkins, it was as if time had stopped. A voice came through the walkie-talkie, filling the room. “Is anyone there?” Eddie grabbed the walkie-talkie reflexively. “Oh my God... John, is that you?” he asked, his voice trembling with both hope and fear. John’s voice echoed through, cutting the static. “Thank God you’re okay, Ed!” Eddie’s voice was filled with desperation. “John. Please tell me. Is Violet okay?” The voice from the walkie-talkie went silent for a moment. The quiet made everyone in the room more impatient. Then John’s voice echoed again, slow and hesitant. “As okay as she can be.” Eddie’s voice wavered between hope and despair. “Can I talk to her? Please. Can Brendon take the walkie-talkie to her?” John remained silent for a moment, then spoke in a regretful tone. “I don’t think that’s possible, Eddie.” Eddie’s determination was evident in his voice. “We’ll come there tomorrow with a warrant. We’re going to get you out of there.” John took a deep breath, his voice full of sorrow. “Dr. Oliver submitted a petition to the board saying Violet had overcome a critical condition. They’re going to transfer her to another hospital.” Eddie quickly asked, his voice filled with concern, “Where?” John’s response was vague and helpless. “I don’t know, but you better hurry. Eddie, I hate to say this, but I don’t think there’s much left of Violet anymore.” Eddie’s face turned pale, and fear was evident in his eyes. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice cracking. His hands wouldn’t stop trembling. John spoke quickly to end the conversation. “I have to go. Manager Wilson has increased security. He’s terrified because of the things he saw related to Vecna. We’ll talk later, Eddie.” As the voice from the walkie-talkie faded, Eddie threw it onto a chair. He paced the room, consumed by anger and helplessness. “Damn it. I have to go there. I have to get in.” Dustin spoke, his face filled with worry and disbelief. “Eddie, have you lost your mind? We literally risked our lives to get you out of there. You just got out. Now you want to go back in?” Without thinking, Eddie ran to Eleven. He grabbed her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Can you reach Violet? Please.” Eleven shrugged, her expression uncertain. “Do you have a photo or something that belongs to her?” Eddie paused for a moment, then shouted in frustration. “Damn it. No.” At that moment, Lucas suddenly spoke with excitement. “No, wait! We do!” Everyone turned their curious eyes to Lucas. He was quickly rummaging through the magazines and newspapers on the table. “Here it is!” he said, holding up a newspaper clipping and handing it to Eddie. Eddie stared at the clipping in his hands, focusing on the photo. It was taken the day they escaped from the hospital, after a car accident. The photo showed the crashed car, along with John, Eddie, and Violet. He read the text beneath the image silently, each word catching in his throat like a lump. “Two patients who escaped from a mental hospital and the hostage doctor they took with them were involved in a car accident. One of the patients and the young doctor died at the scene.” This report had been the trap set to admit Violet into the hospital as a patient, ensuring her family wouldn’t come after her. With trembling hands, he handed the newspaper to Eleven. He also took off the bandana from his head and gave it to her so she could blindfold herself. Silence filled the room. Everyone was waiting for Eleven to try reaching Violet. A few minutes later, Eleven pulled the bandana from her eyes and looked at Eddie. She slowly shook her head no. Max walked over to Eddie and hugged him. She gently wiped away the tear that had fallen from his eye. “Don’t be sad,” she said softly. “When I fell into a coma, El couldn’t reach me at first either. But now I’m here.”

Hopper placed the paper on Wilson’s desk and then slammed his fist onto the table. His face was taut with anger. “We have a warrant to search for Violet George. If I want, I’ll tear this place apart,” he said, his voice filled with determination. Wilson, however, didn’t back down. In a composed manner, he replied, “You can’t search for Violet. Because there’s no such person .” These words pushed Eddie over the edge. He strode quickly toward Wilson, but Steve immediately stepped in front of him to stop him. Eddie’s anger was written all over his face. Hopper fixed a hard stare on Wilson. “Wilson, are you not afraid of what’s coming your way?” he asked. Nodding toward Eddie, he added, “You’re really testing my limits not to let Eddie destroy you.” Wilson didn’t flinch. He responded coldly, “You can’t search for Violet because there’s no such person here. Yes, a temporary doctor was assigned to handle her case while Eddie was here. And that doctor died in a car accident. Try keeping up with the news.” Eddie took a furious step forward and shouted his question. “If she died in the accident, where’s her body? Where’s her grave?” Wilson replied with a mocking tone, “That information is only available to family members. And you’re not one of them, Mr. Munson.” Eddie’s hands were clenched into fists, trembling with rage. Hopper, however, took a deep breath and signaled with a nod for them to leave. Eddie couldn’t believe how quickly Hopper was giving up. He looked at him in shock, but Hopper’s face betrayed no emotion. Once they were outside the hospital, Eddie could no longer contain his anger and started shouting. “You said you’d get her out! I trusted you!” His voice was thick with both frustration and helplessness. Hopper calmly placed a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and said in a reassuring tone, “We need to get back in there. I mean you.” Then, with a faint smile, he added, “We’re going to bury these bastards in a septic tank, son.” Eddie paused, taken aback by Hopper’s resolve. Slowly, a smile returned to his face, and he nodded in agreement.

After dropping Eddie off in front of the hospital’s guesthouse, Hopper quickly drove away. He had mentioned a soldier friend of his, someone he spoke highly of. It was a name Eddie had heard before but had never met. This person was one of Hopper’s connections from Russia. Hopper had said they could help and even alert U.S. National Security. But while Hopper was handling his affairs, Eddie was determined to get back inside. The sky was slowly darkening, providing the perfect backdrop for another covert mission. Eddie noticed a tall figure approaching from the distance. It was clearly a man. Speaking to himself in a low voice, he thought, “I hope it’s Robert. So I can give that bastard what he deserves.” It wasn’t who he was expecting, but if Robert showed up, Eddie knew exactly what he would do to him. Anger burned like fire in Eddie’s veins. What Robert had done to them would not go unpunished. A list ran through his mind: Dr. Arthur, Manager Wilson, Prosecutor Robert... These were at the top of his target list. And then there was the nun who stood over Violet and gave her electroshock, and the male nurse who had walked with him when he first arrived at the hospital. All of their faces were etched into Eddie’s memory. He believed it was his duty to make these assholes pay, especially since the police seemed to be doing nothing. But Eddie couldn’t help asking himself: “Am I strong enough? Am I brave enough?” He had never been in a serious fight beyond high school scuffles with other teens. Yet he was convinced that these people didn’t deserve to breathe. Eddie wouldn’t let the fate of the past dictate his future. The things he once believed in had been lost under Vecna’s chains. But now there was no running. Only fighting.

When he realized the approaching person was Oliver, he stood up from the sidewalk where he had been sitting. The person he had been waiting for was finally in front of him. Oliver looked surprised when he saw Eddie. Quickly, he pushed his curly hair away from his eyes with his hands and took a step toward Eddie, extending his hand. “Eddie? What are you doing here? You left, I thought they saved you,” he said, his voice full of astonishment. Eddie gave a bittersweet smile. He wanted to show Oliver the determination in his eyes. “It would be better if we talked somewhere more private,” he said, and Oliver nodded, motioning for him to follow.

As they entered the guesthouse, Eddie took a long look at the door he believed once belonged to Violet’s room while climbing the stairs. He couldn’t think about anything but Violet. The regret inside him was growing. “I wish I had never dragged her into this,” he thought to himself. But what was done was done, and Eddie needed to find a way out of this chaos.

When Eddie and Oliver entered Oliver’s room in the guesthouse, Oliver threw the bag in his hand into a corner. He loosened his tie with his hand and took a deep breath. “What do you want to drink?” he asked, heading toward the fridge. Eddie, trying to maintain his composure, replied, “Something cold would be nice.” Oliver took two cans of soda from the fridge and handed one to Eddie. He sat on the opposite couch and opened his can. After a brief silence, he spoke. “You’re here to ask about Violet,” Oliver said, looking directly into Eddie’s eyes. Eddie hadn’t opened his soda yet. His eyes were filled with anger and despair. “Nobody’s telling me anything about her,” he said. “Oliver, you’re her doctor. I know you know something. And don’t think I’ve forgotten the dirty game you played with Violet. You tricked me! You let her sacrifice herself for me! But I still need you. Please, tell me, is she okay?”

Oliver placed the soda on the coffee table. He clasped his hands together and remained silent for a moment. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. Finally, he spoke, “Eddie, the dose of electricity Violet received caused significant damage to her brain nerves. I don’t think she can even handle her most basic needs on her own right now. I don’t know when—or if—it will pass. I think she may have sustained permanent damage.” These words drove Eddie mad. “Do you think ?!” he shouted, leaping to his feet. His eyes were blazing with anger. “For God’s sake, did you study all those years to get that medical degree for nothing? Don’t you understand what’s happening to your patient? How is she?!” Oliver continued in a calm tone, unfazed by Eddie’s anger. “Eddie, mental illnesses are not like physical illnesses. When you have the flu, you get treated, we give you medicine, and tell you when you’ll recover. But we can’t predict when a virus growing in the mind will pass. I don’t know Violet’s condition, and I won’t be able to assess the extent of the damage for some time. She can’t even speak.”

Eddie turned to Oliver in horror. His eyes were filled with desperation. “I need to see her, Oliver. I’m begging you. Help me get in there,” he said, his voice both pleading and determined. Oliver took a deep breath and shook his head negatively. “The person you want to talk to isn’t an ordinary patient. And I can’t arrange a visit for you with a patient who is officially recorded as deceased. Wilson and the others are breathing down my neck. They’re just waiting for a chance to lock me up in blue clothes as well.” Eddie continued impatiently, “I didn’t ask you to arrange a visit for me. Get me in. As a patient. ”

Oliver raised his eyebrows in shock. He looked at Eddie as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You just got out of there, and you’ve already forgotten how you got out? If you go back in, you might never get out again. Are you insane?!” Eddie stared directly into Oliver’s eyes and replied, “If I were insane, would you admit me?” Oliver gave a faint smile. “I still wouldn’t, Eddie. We promised Violet… We would save you.”

Eddie angrily sat back down on the couch. His hands were clenched into fists, and his eyes burned with rage. “If one more person says that, the next one is getting punched. Enough already. Didn’t you come here looking for Ginny, Oliver? Aren’t you staying in this disgusting place because you think she’s here? Would you leave?” he asked, his voice rising in fury.

Oliver met Eddie’s words with a moment of silence. Instead of answering, he headed inside. A short while later, he returned with a pillow and a blanket in his hands. He tossed them onto Eddie. “Get some rest tonight. We’ll see what we can do tomorrow,” he said in a soft tone.

Eddie had been staying in Oliver's room at the same guesthouse for three weeks. During this time, they made a plan every day, but something always went wrong. Eddie needed to get inside; every second without news from Violet and John was growing heavier. Three weeks had passed, and he hadn’t heard anything about them. He had seen Brendon a few times from the window, but Oliver warned Eddie strictly not to make any contact with him. Oliver had mentioned that Violet’s condition had slightly improved, but it wasn’t enough for Eddie. He couldn’t even imagine how bad Violet’s state was. His patience was running thin.

Meanwhile, Hopper kept calling and asking if Eddie had gotten into the hospital yet. When Eddie turned off the stove after heating some canned food in the kitchen, he heard the door lock turn and stood up. When Oliver walked in, his face was filled with triumph. Eddie raised his eyebrows and looked at him curiously.

Oliver’s face was glowing with excitement. “It worked, Eddie!” he said enthusiastically. Eddie asked in surprise, “What? How?!”

Oliver continued smiling as he explained. “You’re going back to that hospital tomorrow.”

Eddie smiled and gestured toward the table with his head. Oliver excitedly rushed to the table and sat down. He pulled out a file from his bag and slid it in front of Eddie.

Eddie picked up the file and began to go through it. It was an application form. It belonged to a family from a farm in Detroit who had applied to the hospital, claiming their son was “possessed by the devil.”

Eddie looked at Oliver with confusion. Oliver smirked slightly and pointed. “Look at the child’s name and surname.” Eddie glanced at the corner of the file and read the name written there: Edward Francis Munson. A surprised smile appeared on his face. “All the Edward Munsons in the country must be nuts, I guess,” he said sarcastically.

Suddenly, a realization hit him, and he asked quickly, “Wait a second, are you going to get me inside pretending I’m this kid?” Oliver grinned and nodded. Eddie hesitated for a moment but couldn’t hold back his objection. “But what if the kid’s family comes in and asks about the application status? And everyone in that hospital knows me. They’ll know I’m not this kid. Wilson will never let me in.” Oliver spoke with confidence. “The kid’s family applied to several hospitals along with this one. And right now, one of them has already accepted them. We even had a document confirming their acceptance, but guess what—I ‘accidentally’ fed it to the shredder...”

Eddie was first shocked, then burst into laughter. “Alright, the family won’t come. How are you going to get me inside?” he asked. Oliver maintained eye contact with Eddie as he spoke decisively. “I’m a doctor, remember? If I submit a petition diagnosing you as ‘schizophrenic’ and get this file approved, once they realize there’s another Eddie, it will already be too late. They’ll think they’ve admitted another Eddie. And don’t forget—they’ve already issued death certificates for two living people. They’re aware of this. If they try to kick you out after admitting you, they’ll be in trouble because it’ll be revealed that they issued fake death certificates for you. So, Eddie, I’m asking you one last time. Do you really want to go in? Because you might never come back out.”

Eddie nodded without hesitation. “I accept the risk,” he said.

The next day, Eddie was waiting in front of the hospital doors. He ignored the curious glances from the staff passing by, merely raising his middle finger at them mockingly. At that moment, Oliver came running out of the hospital and approached Eddie. He motioned with his head that they needed to move. Eddie followed Oliver.

The pair headed toward the laundry room they had gone to the first time they entered the hospital. When they entered the laundry room, the same secretary, with the same indifferent attitude, gestured toward the section with clean clothes. Eddie removed his rings. As he started taking off the sleeveless denim jacket he wore over his leather jacket, the secretary was watching him closely. While taking off his t-shirt, he winked at the elderly secretary and headed to the section with clean clothes to put on the blue clothes.

After putting on the blue clothes he returned to Oliver, who was waiting by the door. “Can I go see Violet now?” he asked. Oliver shook his head. “First, we have another task. We’re going to the manager’s office,” he said. Eddie nodded in agreement. As they walked down the corridor, Eddie saw Brendon coming from the other direction. Brendon initially glanced at Eddie and turned his head away. But a second later, he froze and turned back to Eddie.

Brendon’s eyes widened as he recognized Eddie at the end of the corridor. He struggled to catch his breath as he spoke in astonishment. “Eddie?! You... This clothes... What are you doing here?!” Eddie smiled and responded calmly. “I’ll explain everything. Can you bring John and Violet to the common room? I’ll be there shortly.” Brendon, unsure how to respond to this unexpected request, nodded and quickly walked away. Eddie and Oliver had reached Manager Wilson’s office. With a sly grin on his face, Oliver knocked on the door and went inside. Eddie could hear the conversation inside clearly as he waited outside.

Wilson began speaking in an irritated tone. “What is it now, Oliver?” Then Arthur’s stern voice followed. “Didn’t we tell you not to come here unless it’s something important?” Oliver didn’t seem to take the situation seriously. He replied in a relaxed manner. “I want to introduce you to the patient you admitted today.” Wilson sounded exasperated. “Are we supposed to meet every patient we admit? Get out.” Oliver chuckled and added, “You’ll want to meet this one. Eddie, come on in.” Eddie pushed the door open and stepped inside. The expression that appeared on Wilson and Arthur’s faces was pure shock. Eddie watched this change with great delight. The satisfaction on his face was almost a challenge to the dismayed mood of those in front of him. Wilson quickly opened the drawer next to him and pulled out a file. He flipped through the pages so fast that they almost tore. Finally, he stood up and angrily pointed his finger at Oliver. "You... You played us, didn’t you? You tricked us. Do you think you’re very clever?" Oliver didn’t seem affected by Wilson’s threatening demeanor. He spoke calmly. "If you want, you can discharge Eddie right now. But that will lead to two outcomes. First, a public lawsuit will be filed against you for endangering public safety by releasing a potentially dangerous 'schizophrenic' patient without completing their treatment. Or Eddie will sue you after being discharged because you admitted the wrong person and kept someone innocent here. In short, Manager, you’ve stepped in it. You have no choice but to keep him here." Arthur, who had been quietly listening to Oliver, turned to Eddie with a conflicted expression. "You shouldn’t be here," he said. Wilson glared at Eddie with a displeased look, while Arthur stepped forward and began speaking in a threatening tone. "You think you’ve done something clever by coming here. Right now, you’re nothing more than a lamb that’s returned to the wolves’ den." Eddie, unfazed by the threat, replied. "Want to give it a try? This time, we won’t stay silent. We won’t let people like you torment people like us. By the time I’m done here, Arthur, they’ll strap you into a straitjacket and fry you." Arthur’s face reddened with anger at Eddie’s words, and he snapped back. "Do your worst, Munson." Eddie kept his composure and delivered one final remark. "Careful, or my worst might blow up somewhere inappropriate for you." Despite Arthur’s shocked expression, Eddie merely stared at him coldly. Oliver took Eddie by the arm and led him out of the room. Together, they walked toward the common room.

In the common room, Brendon and John were sitting on a couch. The moment John saw Eddie, he jumped up and quickly embraced him. Tears streamed down his face. "You’re an idiot, Eddie. You’re an idiot for coming back here," he murmured. Eddie hugged John tightly in return. His eyes were searching for someone else. John noticed that Eddie was looking for Violet, and his expression suddenly turned serious. Bowing his head slightly, he spoke. "I wanted to warn you before you see her, Eddie. I’m not sure if you can handle it. Actually, I asked Oliver to wait a few weeks before bringing you in. Seeing her in those first moments wouldn’t have done you any good. She’s a bit better now." Eddie interrupted John’s explanations, impatiently asking, "Where is she?" The lump in Eddie’s throat made it hard to breathe and swallow. John nodded toward Brendon. Brendon silently left the common room and returned a few minutes later, walking with someone holding onto his arm. Eddie froze for a moment when he saw that person. Was that... Violet? Violet was stumbling as she walked and struggling to stay upright. Her gaze was vacant and fearful as she glanced around. Even from a distance, it was clear her mind was in disarray. With each step, she looked at Brendon in fear. Brendon spoke softly, encouragingly, as if trying to reassure her. "It’s okay. We’re almost there." Eddie noticed the red scars on either side of Violet’s forehead. The wounds had scabbed over, and some areas had stitches. The sight made Eddie’s hands tremble. He couldn’t stop the tears welling up in his eyes. Violet and Brendon had barely managed to cover a few steps in a minute because of Violet’s frightened and shaky movements. John watched Eddie’s face, waiting for his reaction. But Eddie didn’t know what to say. Violet was standing in front of him, but she wasn’t the Violet he knew. An indescribable fear filled him. Brendon walked over to Eddie and placed a hand on his shoulder. "This is her good state, buddy," he said. "At least she can form sentences. She couldn’t even swallow without help before." Brendon’s attempt to console him only deepened Eddie’s pain. When Violet finally reached Eddie, she still wasn’t lifting her head. Eddie gently held her face with his hands and raised it. "Violet?..." he said, his voice trembling. Violet looked into Eddie’s eyes, frightened. The fear in her eyes was unmistakable. Eddie, feeling like she might break if he touched her, slowly pulled his hands back. At the same time, Violet took a step back and hid behind John. Like a child embarrassed and hiding behind a parent, Violet peeked at Eddie from over John’s shoulder. Then she leaned into John’s ear and whispered. Her voice was soft but clear enough for Eddie to hear. Violet tilted her head toward John’s shoulder and whispered fearfully, "John... I don’t know him..." After those words, tears streamed uncontrollably down Eddie’s face. John bit his lip and grimaced, hugging Violet tightly. As Violet’s sobs grew louder, Eddie stopped trying to hold back his own tears. At that moment, Oliver moved to Eddie’s other side. "For now, she only trusts me and John," he said quietly. "She doesn’t recognize anyone else. We don’t know when she’ll come around or start remembering things." Eddie couldn’t find anything to say. The lump in his throat felt like a sharp blade, making it impossible to swallow. John looked into Eddie’s eyes and spoke firmly. "But that’s not our biggest problem," he said with determination. Eddie fixed his gaze on John. What could be worse than this?

Oliver pointed to someone sitting in the corner. At first, Eddie couldn’t recognize who it was. There was a familiar feeling, but the person had changed so much that it was hard to remember. He was clean-shaven, wearing blue clothes, and his haggard appearance made him nearly unrecognizable. But when Eddie looked closer, he realized. This was Prosecutor Robert Hills.

When Robert saw Eddie, he stood up. Eddie held his breath. Rage enveloped his entire body, and his vision seemed to darken with fury. There was only one person responsible for Violet’s condition, and that was Robert. Dr. Arthur might have strapped her to that bed and administered the electric shocks. Manager Wilson might have turned a blind eye or even supported it. But the one who started it all, the one who pulled the pin on the grenade, was Robert.

Eddie started walking quickly toward Robert. Robert took a step back at the sight of Eddie’s furious approach. He was taller than Eddie, but that didn’t matter to Eddie in the slightest. Just before landing his fist on Robert’s face, Eddie’s expression shifted into a cold smile.

With Eddie’s first punch, Robert was pushed back against the wall behind him. He tried to shield his face with his hands, so Eddie directed his next blows to his groin, stomach, and ribcage.

As the assault intensified, Brendon and Oliver rushed to intervene, grabbing Eddie’s arms. But Eddie didn’t stop; he began kicking Robert instead. Finally, Robert fell to the ground, curling into a fetal position to protect himself.

Oliver, furious, grabbed Eddie and shoved him forcefully. “Do you want to end up in a cell your first day here, Eddie?! Get a grip!” he yelled.

At that moment, Wilson and Arthur entered the room, probably having heard the commotion. They stood there with expressions of both concern and curiosity. When they saw Eddie, they exchanged a sly smile and simply watched the scene unfold.

Arthur spoke in a mocking tone, “So, you’ve seen the big surprise, I take it.”

Eddie shouted angrily, pointing toward Robert. “What is this asshole doing here?! Did you put him here so I’d kill him and become a murderer?!”

Wilson shrugged nonchalantly and replied, “Do whatever you want with him. We’re done. Just try not to make too much of a mess. Bloodstains are hard to clean.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Wilson and Arthur turned and left the room without the slightest concern. Meanwhile, Robert struggled to his feet, clutching his stomach. Slowly, he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and took a deep breath.

Breaking the silence, Robert spoke in a pained tone. “If you’re going to kill me, then do it, Eddie. I don’t have much reason to live anyway.”

Eddie fixed his gaze on Robert and raised his voice. “Shut up. Don’t try to play the victim. I don’t feel a shred of pity for you, Robert. You deserve every bit of what’s happened to you.”

Robert lowered his head at Eddie’s harsh words. With a slight sigh, he said, “I can’t blame you for thinking that way. If you were in my shoes, maybe you’d understand.”

Eddie laughed bitterly. “I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes. You’re a disgusting piece of trash. We trusted you, and you threw us back in here. You’re going to rot here, Robert,” he hissed.

Robert replied calmly, “So will you. You’re no different from me now.”

Eddie’s eyes darkened further. As he lunged forward to attack again, Brendon quickly grabbed his arm and forcefully pulled him back. “Can’t you see? He’s provoking you. They’ll really lock you up if you keep this up, Eddie. Let’s get out of here,” Brendon said, his voice carrying a clear warning.

Clenching his teeth, Eddie broke free from Brendon’s grip and turned away, heading toward where Violet was. Violet watched Eddie’s approach with fear. As he got closer, she retreated further, hiding behind John. Eddie tried to put on a soft and innocent smile. All he wanted was for Violet not to be afraid of him.

When Eddie reached out his hand, Violet locked eyes with him. Eddie spoke gently, “Hi, beautiful, I’m Eddie. Do you remember me?” he asked. Instead of answering, Violet looked over to the corner where Robert stood. Her gaze clearly revealed that she was now afraid of Eddie because of what he had done to Robert.

When Eddie saw that look, he bit his lip. Suppressing the wave of regret rising within him, he took another step closer and gently took Violet’s hands in his. “He’s a bad man,” he said, his voice trembling.

Then Eddie looked deeper into Violet’s eyes and continued, “I would never hurt you, Violet. I’d never let anything happen to you again. Never,” he whispered. The sincerity in his words seemed to slightly ease Violet’s apprehension. Instead of pulling her hands away, Violet held Eddie’s hands in return.

Eddie was sitting at the long and uncomfortable cafeteria table with John and the others. It had only been three days since Eddie returned to the hospital, and he had been waiting for news from Hopper ever since. Hopper claimed he was making arrangements, but whatever he was arranging, he needed to hurry. The hope inside Eddie was fading a little more with each passing day.

He looked at John sitting across from him. John was playing with his food, appearing distracted and lost in thought. Eddie turned his gaze from John to Violet sitting beside him. Violet was trying to eat, filling her spoon with soup and struggling with her shaky hand. But her wrists were so weak that the soup spilled all over her before she could even bring the spoon to her mouth.

Eddie picked up a napkin from the basket next to him and gently wiped Violet’s mouth. Then he placed his hand over Violet’s trembling one. Violet looked at Eddie with surprise.

“Hold on, sweetheart, let me help you,” Eddie said with a smile. He took Violet’s spoon and began helping her drink the soup.

John rubbed his face with his hands. Taking a deep breath, he grumbled, “How much longer is this going to go on? I can’t stand seeing her like this. We need her right now.”

Eddie set the spoon aside and raised his head slightly. “She’s in this state because of me,” he said, his voice breaking.

John sighed and looked at Eddie. “We’ve talked about this, Eddie. It was her choice. No matter what you did, she would have sacrificed herself anyway. For your freedom.”

Eddie replied sharply, “Freedom, for me, isn’t outside these walls. It’s wherever she is, John.”

John rolled his eyes and spoke in a sarcastic tone. “Dude, if you don’t get out of here, you’re not going to marry her and live happily ever after. You’ll either die from the filth here or the experiments. This place isn’t safe for anyone.”

Eddie ran his hand through his hair and chuckled lightly. “Speaking of filth, we could use a shower,” he said.

John nodded in agreement. Eddie continued, “I’ll take Violet to her room and be right back.”

When Eddie took Violet’s arm to support her, she clung tightly to him. She did this every time they were going somewhere. She held on so tightly that her nails dug into Eddie’s arm. She was afraid of everything and everyone, as if she had aged prematurely. Her memory was completely blank; she remembered nothing and no one. Eddie placed his hand over Violet’s and spoke softly.

“Baby, you’re cold,” he said. He took off his jacket and gently placed it over Violet’s shoulders. Then he leaned down and zipped it up.

Violet suddenly asked, “What day is it today?”

Eddie looked up at her, as if not understanding the question for a moment.

Violet continued with a hint of curiosity in her eyes, “Have I ever asked you this before?”

A smile spread across Eddie’s face. He stood up quickly, pulled Violet close, hugged her tightly, and stroked her hair while inhaling its scent. “Yes, my angel, you’ve asked me. Every day, you used to ask me. Do you remember?”

Violet nodded slightly in affirmation. She was beginning to remember. Eddie waited patiently. No matter how long it took, he believed Violet would get better. Even though Oliver had said Violet might regain some memories but would never be the same, Eddie didn’t want to believe it. Violet was his Violet.

After taking Violet to her room, Eddie went to the men’s bathroom. John had already filled the tub with hot water and gotten in. There was no privacy here; all the tubs were lined up side by side.

There were no curtains or stalls in the bathroom, as if the only way to prevent people from harming themselves was to leave everything open. But in this hellish place, where rapists and murderers roamed freely, was this truly the safest solution they could come up with? Lost in these thoughts, Eddie took off his clothes, threw them on the floor, and turned on the water in a tub.

He got into the tub, trying to relax. His eyes fell on John in the next tub. “Got a cigarette?” he asked, dunking his head underwater and wiping his face as he surfaced. John bent down, grabbed a cigarette, and tossed it to him. Eddie struck a match, lit his cigarette, and leaned against the edge of the tub, watching the smoke drift through the air as he sought a moment of peace.

John suddenly jolted and spoke. “Hey, someone’s coming.”

Eddie quickly flicked his cigarette to the floor. The room was already filled with steam from the hot water, so it was unlikely anyone would suspect the smoke. When Eddie saw that it was Robert who had entered, he sighed deeply and rolled his eyes. He would have to light another cigarette. Robert walked over, turned on the water, and sat on the edge of the tub as it filled, looking as if he hadn’t expected to find them there.

Eddie took a drag from his cigarette and spoke with a mocking expression. “What’s up, Robert? Here to wash away your sins?” he said, smirking slightly. Robert didn’t reply.

For three days, every time Eddie saw Robert, he made snide remarks, trying to provoke him. But no matter what Eddie did, Robert rarely reacted. Still, it was fun to mess with him like a cat playing with a mouse. Robert was terrified of Eddie, and Eddie enjoyed it.

John joined in with a laugh. “Oh, come on, Eddie. Even if Robert washed with all the water in the city, he still wouldn’t be clean. He’s got the blood of the innocent on him,” he said sarcastically.

Robert silently took off his blue shirt and looked at Eddie as he spoke. “You know, Eddie?” he said, his voice carrying a hint of mockery. Eddie looked at him with an indifferent expression. Robert continued in the same calm tone, “It doesn’t suit you to treat the only person who can help you like this.”

A look of anger spread across Eddie’s face. “Help me with what, exactly? You’re not capable of helping anyone but yourself. We’ve seen that once, and we’ve learned our lesson,” he said sharply.

Ignoring Eddie’s reaction, Robert replied, “I can heal Violet.”

With these words, Eddie slowly straightened from where he was. Holding onto both sides of the bathtub, he stood up. He grabbed the towel nearby and wrapped it around his waist. Water dripped from his hair and body, forming small puddles on the floor. As the sound of his wet footsteps echoed through the silent bathroom, he walked toward Robert. His eyes radiated sharp anger in response to the words he had just heard. "What did you say?" he asked harshly.

Robert rolled his eyes, ignoring Eddie's reaction. "You heard me," he said indifferently.

Meanwhile, John, observing the situation, burst into laughter. "A seasoned doctor can't do anything, but our little runt prosecutor is going to heal Violet? Really?" he said mockingly.

Robert tilted his head slightly and looked at John. "Do you honestly think that's my profession? A prosecutor?" he retorted.

Eddie took a deep breath and leaned against a bathtub, speaking with a disdainful expression. "You're right. Prosecutors are men of justice. The only thing you'd be fit for, Robert, is a circus freak," he said coldly.

Robert turned off the faucet filling the tub and replied in a calm tone, "Fine, if you don’t want my help, that’s your choice."

Eddie's expression hardened. "You're right, we don’t. Because there’s nothing you can do," he countered.

Robert stared at Eddie’s face for a moment before slowly stepping toward him. The distance between them was nearly gone. Eddie had to straighten up from where he was leaning. John, startled by the sudden movement, became alert. As a trained officer, he was ready for any threat and quickly stood up.

Robert extended his hand toward Eddie. As Eddie tried to figure out the meaning of this gesture, Robert turned his arm. Eddie froze in place as if rooted to the ground, staring at the tattoo on Robert’s wrist. He quickly looked over at John. John, who had approached with the towel still tied around his waist, was also looking at Robert’s extended hand.

John asked in astonishment, "003? What does that mean?"

Eddie’s voice was filled with mixed emotions. "You’re one of them… like Eleven," he said.

Robert nodded in confirmation. Eddie ran his hands over his face, muttering, "But… How? Why? What?"

Robert responded with a sly smile on his face. "You couldn’t even figure out where it was coming from, could you, Eddie? Why I was so determined to see you dead? Because he wanted it. Vecna. Henry, to be precise."

Eddie spoke as if the air had been knocked out of him. "You knew about Vecna all along. You knew about the murders. You knew everything. Even while we were running."

Robert nodded in acknowledgment of Eddie’s words.

Eddie’s gaze was fixed on Robert. The questions in his mind grew with every passing second. "I don’t understand. What are you doing here?" he asked.

Robert took a deep breath and answered with a composed expression. "I started working for Vecna, and we became… connected, in a way. If he dies, I die too. So I have to do whatever he wants. When I came here, my main goal was to have you executed. But then I realized something even Vecna didn’t know. Eddie, you’re not so different from me after all."

Eddie’s eyes narrowed further. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Robert continued, "You remember the day Violet was hooked up to the electroshock machine. Two people in the room went into a trance and died. You saw it, didn’t you?"

Unwillingly, Eddie nodded.

Robert’s words were chilling. "That wasn’t Vecna. It was you, " Robert said with conviction.

Eddie’s teeth clenched as he retorted angrily, "You’re lying."

Robert maintained his composure as if he had anticipated this reaction. "Believe me or don’t. Until that moment, even I didn’t understand. Because Vecna wasn’t there. I can feel him. I know where he is. He was definitely not there that day. And I wasn’t doing it either. Something like that requires great power, pain, and anger. And at that moment, you were the only one in the room with those feelings. You did it."

Eddie’s voice rose, filled with conflicting emotions. "I didn’t do anything! I… I don’t have any connection to Vecna! I’ve never even seen him alive!"

Robert stepped closer to Eddie and pointed to his side, where his kidneys were. "You don’t need to see him to be connected to him. The demobats bit you. Hive mind. You’re connected to him now. So Eddie, if Vecna gets hurt, if he dies, you’re connected to him. You’ll die too. You have powers you don’t even know about yet. And you don’t realize how dangerous you are."

Eddie’s eyes were burning with anger. "I don’t believe a single word you’re saying, Robert. Even if I assumed it was true, I would never serve him," he declared with determination.

Robert smirked mockingly and shrugged. "You don’t choose to serve him, idiot. He uses you whenever he wants. Since you were bitten, has he ever tried to come and hunt you down? Have you ever found yourself passed out without meaning to?" he asked.

John, overwhelmed by the conversation, raised both hands in the air. "Wait, wait. What’s a demobat? I don’t understand anything. Is someone going to explain this to me?" he asked desperately.

Robert began speaking calmly, as if giving a lecture. "Vecna was once a normal but dangerous kid with superpowers. I was the same. I was always different. But one day, in the lab where the doctor who wanted to test our power worked, something happened. A portal to another dimension was opened. Vecna is now the king there. And everything connected to that place serves him. Eddie was bitten by the creatures there. And he quite literally came back from the dead. You remember, don’t you, Eddie?"

Eddie lowered his head and said nothing.

Taking encouragement from the silence, Robert continued. "Your survival isn’t a miracle. You weren’t supposed to live. He brought you back to life. Just like he brought me back and bound me to him. Now, you were saying we’re not the same, that we’re different. Doesn’t seem so different to me, huh?"

As these words echoed in Eddie’s mind, he couldn’t help but ask another question. "What you said about Violet. Were you serious?"

Robert, exuding confidence, raised his hand and moved his fingers one by one. "I have my own tricks."

taglist:@arabellagreenleaf @cokepowder55 @nessa3nessa @25bohemianmoons @nicholaschavezslut69 @multyfangirl @t-folklore13

[paperstorm]

Thanks for the tags @carlos-in-glasses @annoyingcloudearthquake @laelipoo @strandnreyes and @whatsintheboxmh!

From Somewhere in a Song chapter four, posting tomorrow :)

TK’s lucky. He met people in rehab whose families didn’t want anything to do with them anymore, who’d been fired from jobs they wouldn’t get back, who knew they’d have to cut off all their old friends because those were the people they drank or used with. TK came back to a dad who was happy to see him, to fans who still wanted to buy tickets to see him perform, to friends want to support his sobriety even if TK keeps insisting they don’t need to worry so much. He has money, he has resources, he has people who care about him and want him to succeed. He has so much more than so many people in his situation, and he feels like such an imposter every time he catches himself wallowing in self-pity.

And yet he’s still outside a bar in South Philly, leaning against a vibrating brick wall with throngs of people having the time of their lives on the other side of it and all TK can think is how much his life feels like a tightrope walk these days. One misstep or gust of wind and he would tumble down, and he can’t count on a bouncy nylon safety net always being there to catch him. He wanted so badly to be his old self, just without the substances. He wanted to keep being fun, the life of the party, the one who bought drinks for everyone else, the one people were happy to see when he walked into a room. It’s a gut-punch to admit that TK’s not sure he knows how to be that person anymore, without the pills and the booze, and to realize that means maybe it was never him all along.

“TK?”

Inhaling and looking up, TK feels crashed into by the sight of Carlos’s concerned face frowning down at him. TK hadn’t realized he’d slipped down to his backside on the ground until Carlos crouches, sitting back on his heels until he’s closer to eye level and reaching out a hand that he places on TK’s shoulder. It’s instantly warm even through TK’s jacket, and he immediately shrugs it off.

“No offense but you’re kind of the last person I wanna see right now,” TK grinds out, rubbing his hands over his eyes.

Carlos doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t leave, either.

“They prepare you for this in rehab, you know,” TK says, almost immediately ignoring what he’d just said. “I thought I was ready for it.”

He fumbles for purchase on the rough brick of the wall behind him, pushing himself vertical in a way that nearly knocks Carlos over onto his ass on the concrete. TK paces away, shaking his hands out in front of his body. Every inch of him feels like it’s vibrating. He can feel, without looking, that Carlos is still standing behind him, but TK doesn’t turn around. It’s the first time he’s acknowledged his storied past with Carlos in earshot. TK’s talked to his dad and his band and Billy, but he’s left it unspoken in front of the band travelling with them. He’s not so naïve, though, as to imagine they don’t know. He’s sure Carlos saw the headlines and the Tweets and all the very public hoopla.

To the empty alley, he laughs humorlessly and says, “They literally coach you on this, about avoiding places that might be triggering if you can but that ultimately you can’t orchestrate the world around you so that triggering things don’t exist. We worked on mantras and breathing exercises and making sure there are people you can call, if you’re not being stupid like me and making your friends go with you to a fucking nightclub.”

“Who should we call?” Carlos asks, his voice finally returning to the sticky night air around him.

TK turns. He sighs and shakes his head, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Nobody. You don’t need to stay out here with me, I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine,” Carlos argues, in a voice that’s far too gentle for TK’s liking.

“That’s not your problem.”

Tagging @theghostofashton @birdclowns @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

@carlos-in-glasses @actual-sleeping-beauty @thisbuildinghasfeelings @herefortarlos @heartstringsduet

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@liminalmemories21 @nancys-braids @whatsintheboxmh @bonheur-cafe

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@sanjuwrites @orchidscript @jesuisici33 @kiwichaeng @honeybee-taskforce

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@tellmegoodbye @anactualcaseofthetruth @ironheartwriter @eclectic-sassycoweyes @ditheringmind

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@carlossreaders @ladytessa74 @denizoid @everlastingday

Want to be added or removed from the list? Lmk

[tranceinnumerabletabs]

When Johnny Comes Back pt9

Just finished my exams TODAY (at the time I'm making this post) and I'm READY to MAKE THIS. It's a bit short as I am Exhausted and don't want to make a too long part

tags: @supermegabitchboyexceptimagirl,💜thx for the support and @beelzebee

part1, part2, part3, part4, part5, part6, part7

Previously:

You snort “oh no Johnny. Once you retire, you’re taking my last name”

“And why’s tha’?”

“it’ll do you some good changing your last name. If anyone asks why you took mine, just say you married a feminist” you sip your drink.

"what's wrong with Mactavish?" he whines through his chuckle

“You’re a war criminal Johnny.” You casually mention, as if Soap ever wanted you to know that.

Jazz Music Stops

He didn’t.

Now:

“…what are ye talking about?” He says, tone more serious but you didn’t catch that, thinking that the tone change was because of how stuffed he was.

“Embassy gas attack, secret ops, the 141, ‘collateral damages ’” you respond as if it’s no big deal

Silence.

You look up from your phone “what?” His face was serious, eyes talking business, no, eyes talking soldier. You’ve never seen that look.

“…how’d ye know about tha’?”

A small pit forms in your stomach, did you do something wrong? You thought those were normal pieces of information.....right?

“I…did a bit of research”

“What kind o’ research”

“Jus….basic research….”

“Lass, what do ye mean?” Why was he so serious?

“You know…bit of googling. Some public records, some declassified records….some leaked records….” You explain calmly thinking that that would answer his question but he stares at you, silently. It’s uncharacteristic and unnerving. Are you in trouble? you keep talking to fill the silence “Some dramatized blogs, a sketchy site or two, conspiracy forums that named you…”

Silence

.

.

.

“Some guy sold me info for cheap.”

His eyes widened “Who?”

“Jus’ some guy I found online…said he used to be a shadow….didn’t know what that meant.”

His fist clenches at the mention of shadows and the pit in your stomach felt like pure lead. What’s…gotten into him?

“Bonny. Why’d you look into that?”

“I….was I not supposed to?”

“Answer the question”

“I was looking for information about you” you confess “I was worried”

He sighs, seeming to be conflicted about this. He’s both happy that you worry but upset that your looked into this. he never wanted you to see this part of him. He wanted to keep this life a secret. He wanted to come back from deployment to a domestic scene. To pretend that he was the hero they made him out to be, to see you be lazy in pjs and soft to him.

“Bonny” he rubs his face, the pain from the injury making itself known again.

“Ye…..ye Dianne…..” he sighs. You did it because you were worried.

“I dinnae want ye tae see this….side o’ me…”

“Is it because you’re a war criminal?” You weren’t sure about that part considering how unreliable the information seemed but were gauging his reaction for the truth.. He sighs again

“How much do ye Ken?”

“…..not much…”

“Tell me what What do ye know *now* and who is that guy?”

You stutter, feeling upset and very very vulnerable

“Some…vague articles talked about an international task force, a sketchy forum from some third-party account spouted nonsense. There was some…people talking about it. A lot of it was nonsense.”

“And the shadow?”

“The guy? Said he used to work in Black Ops. Didn’t seem very hesitant to sell me Intel and I didn’t think it was very reliable”

“How could ye afford that?”

“He sold it cheap. His claims were ridiculous too. Said his boss faked his death and knew of a Scotsman with a Mohawk. Last he knew that Scot was alive.”

Tch, shadows, always caring more about money than honor and loyalty so it stacks. He seemed….tense. Thinking hard and trying to make sense of it all. This is not what he wanted to come home to.

“This isn’t safe, I need ye to show me exactly what you’ve seen and what you know.” He’s firm and talking to you in this….tone. You had a feeling this was the ‘Sergeant Soap’ tone and you were in big trouble.

“Isn’t…safe?”

“Yes! Isn’t safe!” he says through clenched teeth, body coiled “You dinnae have any idea o’ things like this. Ye don’t know what yer doing or talking about. You could be targeted just fer seeing’ the wrong thing. And it’ll be on my mind. Because otherwise, ye wouldy have ever looked around where a civi shouldn’t see. And know ye seen too much and-“

“Hey, hey, Johnny….I’m fine…” you say, self assured, but in reality you were shaking. You’re so nervous at this. Watching him rub his face like this with a guilty and calculating look on his face made you sick. “You don’t understand any of this Bonny, and I never wanted ye to.” You reach out to place your hand on his clenched fist, but he gets up abruptly from the chair, he seemed so angry.

“I’m sorry Johnny! I just wanted to see, I needed to know if you were alive and what happened!” He goes up to you and snatches up your phone, going though your history

“I-I used my computer to actually. H-Hey!” He walks away fast to go snoop. You get up to catch up to him. He’s not calm but he is collected. Acting like the solider he was trained to be. He opens your laptop and impatiently turns it on.

“Johnny” you try to touch his shoulder but he just yanks your hand to the fingerprint scanner. “I just needed to know you were okay! You never went away for that long and you never-“

“Where did you go?” He orders and you point to it because you’re unsure if you could talk straight.

“U-uh it’s this o-“ He opens it up and searches through both your phone and computer at the same time, muttering about ‘bloody Shadows’, some self deprecating words like “what kind of man can’t keep his loves safe?” and about the dangers that could be involved. You defend “I had no idea-“

“O’ course ye didn’t lass! O’ course not! And I never wanted ya to! I wanted ya tae stay away from Sergeant Soap and just be my soft wee lass for me to come home to. Someone who’ll never be in this world and die violently because of one wrong move.”

“I-“ you try to get a word in

“Now show me where you met that shadow. Tell me everything. now”

Nextpart

Zzz

[trenchcoathunnybee08]

We don’t talk enough about the fact that in Origins Kayla tells Logan about that spirit who picked flowers for the moon but was tricked and cast out. She tells him the name means Wolverine.

Later after she dies and he goes into the program they ask him what he wants on his new dog tags. He said Wolverine.

Bro chose to live a life with her, fall for her, love her, and ultimately seek revenge for her. He went into the program because of her and chose the name of the character to the last story she told him.

Like do you understand the implications of that?

She was one of the only people to see him as something other than an animal or a killer. She was one of the only people to see that soft side of him. When he took on that name it was to remember her and the way she saw him. Not as a killer but as someone capable of love. Someone who cared so deeply but had experienced great tragedy.

When he took on the name it wasn’t as an animal. With was as a lover. It’s only when he’s lost the memory of its meaning does it become a burden as he believes he is nothing but a killer and an animal. He has nothing to link the name to aside from the surface meaning.

He loved her so much it breaks my heart. Him and Kayla were the real endgame even though they were never meant to last. Tragically I almost feel like in every universe where they are together she ultimately dies. Like a fixed point or a canon event. In every universe where she exists and they meet he is destined to lose her.

[thekingnerd]

As an endo (I feel the need to preface with this so as to not be misleading) I agree with EVERY point you made here, which is... Very odd to have happen when I'm reblogging an anti.

I agree with your stance on the antis, and how while there are some toxic communities and people, that isn't all of them. Similarly, I don't view all endos as good people, some of us are assholes, but I see so many anti posts about all endos being ableist, how they used to be pro but then a few endos were being dicks and trying to convince them they were endo, as well as other things, then they hate all endos. I agree with you completely here: Neither side is a monolith. We all have good people, we all have bad ones. Hell, I have a few antis I actively enjoy talking to because they, while not believing that I can exist, are able to put that aside for the purposes of a proper debate without insults!

The concept of endos being suspicious: I agree, it did seem a bit odd at first for me, but when my brethren (headmates) showed up (before I did) the Guy Who Was There First was just like "Huh, that's odd. Am I crazy? Probably, but that's fine." (For context, we have aphantasia, so we are all (to whoever is fronting) disembodied voices.) We didn't even know that systems were a thing until our friend revealed his systemness to us, but since we were different, us being system didn't even click until a year later. As for a lack of trauma, or other symptoms: Some endos dissociate from other, unrelated disorders, some have trauma that doesn't fit with diagnostic criteria or happened after systemhood, but in general, we don't know why we formed. With willogenics and such, my best guess as to how could be they can just believe they have a friend in their head for long enough it stays? Maybe imaginary friend type thing, but more permanent?

We don't pretend that natural multiple shit never happened, most of us just have never heard of it before. This is the first I heard of it.

I'm also not asking any antis to take a chance on us existing, I just want the death threats and such to stop.

As for barging into spaces: I do not condone any endos posting endo stuff in the did/osdd/cdd/other disordered tags, unless it's something that they found that directly pertains to those disorders (other post elsewhere that has tips on dealing with dissociation, for example.) From an endo point of view, at least from what I've seen, we left the overall, medical system spaces and formed our own spaces, using the plural tags. Now, we don't keep traumagenics out, not at all. We are all inclusive. We just want to keep hatred out of our spaces, because there are plenty of antis coming into the endo safe plural tags, and calling us ableist, then having DNI in the tags, as if they expect us to not respond to them yelling at us in our tags. I am fine with DNIs, but like... If you don't want gay people to interact with you, then don't go to the gay bar.

I get not wanting to have your safe space spoiled by hate and those who invalidate you. I just wish that both sides could see that, agree to disagree, and temporarily have a truce while we work on making plurality in general (both disordered and not) accepted by society. Then we can get back to throwing hate at each other if we truly wish.

Tl;Dr, I agree fully with every point you made here, and they also, for the most part, actually apply to endos as well. We need to just have a truce, normalize systems so we can go by our own names in public, not body names, and then if we truly wish go back to fighting.

Keep seeing posts of pro-endos who used to be anti-endo talking about "Ugh, anti-endo spaces are so toxic" which is not necessarily bad, there are bad anti-endo spaces out there and people are allowed to vent about how those spaces hurt them

I do have a problem when they use that as an excuse to call us all toxic and cruel. I've seen many saying things like "Anti endos are so horrible, I'm so glad I'm not one of those monsters anymore"

You need to understand we aren't the monsters you make us out to be. We're traumatized people, trying our hardest to survive with something debilitating, who can't help but see endos as mocking, whether they truly are or not. We can't help but see endos as invading our spaces.

We didn't get to have safe spaces most of the time. We didn't get to be around people who cared about us and understood us. Even those of us that did have a safe space had it poisoned by trauma elsewhere. We spent our childhoods afraid, isolated, and so agonizingly alone, feeling like we were better off dead, that we were freaks, that we were the only ones in the world going through this. This community we made for ourselves was one we had to fight through years of hell to get.

So when random people come over trying to insist that they're "just like us" and demanding to be let in, despite having only one or two things in common that we couldn't even trust they truly had, of course we'll be fucking defensive. In our eyes, you're trying to take the safe spaces we fought tooth and nail for away from us, whether you truly are or not. In our eyes you're people who know nothing about us or what we went through, and continue to go through, trying to barge into our havens and bloat it with bullshit, whether that's what you're trying to do or not.

We've been hurt so many times, by so many people, for so long. Why the fuck would we take a chance on people that are so suspect? You claim to have alters just like us, yet without any of the other symptoms of our disorders. You claim to be systems, yet without being caused by the immense trauma we had to suffer through. Hell, some of you claim that you made your alters for fun, just because you can.

Of course we're wary and defensive. We don't want to even risk losing the spaces we worked so damn hard to get.

If you've had a bad experience with anti-endo spaces, and are pro-endo now because of it, that's fine by me and I understand completely. But that doesn't make us all villians. That doesn't make us all evil monsters.

And besides, many of us have been hurt by pro-endo/mixed origin spaces too. We've seen people have horrible experiences with them. (Let's not forget endos started as natural multiples, who were notoriously shitty, cruel, and discriminatory toward any and all traumagens, and that a lot of that same rhetoric is still rampant in the community, AND that the community at large has basically just decided to pretend that never happened.

-Kaz

[tornadoyoungiron]

Hello Tumblr, it’s been a while.

First of all, wishing everyone a Happy New Year! Hoping that 2025 has been good so far and for the rest of the solar cycle <3 The past few months have been a little rough for me, as I have been dealing with some behind-the-scenes stuff, though I will be fine, don’t you worry. I’ve been through far worse.  

Unfortunately, it means that I’ve lost the passion for Young Iron, I honestly think that the passion has been dwindling for a long time now, since at least May 2024. I think it was a factor of a lot of things; my hyperfixation slowly waning, feeling like the story losing its focus and getting out of hand plus noticing that a lot of my ideas were being copied. 

To clarify, I don’t mind if people take ideas I put forward in my writing, in fact, I do encourage it and love seeing what people come up with. It excites me and inspires me to write more. I want people to be creative and to be inspired to write their own stories, hell their own Tornado’s because you can never have enough Tornado’s in the world. 

However, my issues started after introducing and talking about future concepts of my stories with others and having people immediately ask if they could take and use these concepts/characters in their own AUs before I could even write them into my own started to discourage me. This is one of the reasons why all the posts on Broken Records have been deleted and I removed myself from most of the ttte groups I was in. I wanted to discuss my ideas with others, not have them immediately stolen for other people’s AUs.

It’s disheartening to not be able to flesh out my own characters or ideas before someone comes in and takes the idea away to make their own. Maybe I’m being petty or perhaps a bit protective, I don’t know, but it felt rude to me. 

That being said, please don’t be scared to post and continue writing stuff inspired by Young Iron. If you want to write stories about any of the characters I’ve introduced in the Young Iron stories, please feel free to go right on ahead and even tag me if you want. I really do genuinely love this kinda stuff, it might even inspire me to come back.

Either way, I still do have plans to finish Young Iron. In Pursuit of Self was always going to be the last in the series, I want the series it to have a definitive end, unlike my previous series with Godzilla which just randomly dropped off. I want to finish it but when things are looking up and things have gotten better.

In other news, Transformers One really got me into a Transformer’s hyper fixation so you might see some new things in regards to the Transformers franchise. (Probably not ONE related but you never know.)

Wishing all my followers and mutuals a wonderful 2025! 

Stay Safe, smooth running and dry rails!

[missisjoker]

@randomingoftherandomness I had another brain blurb.

This one sprouted from an unanswered question of how the hell did wood!LL know ZYZ and ZYC were getting their asses whooped before he chose to show up?

What if he gave ZYZ a hickey, a part of his primordial soul, or some other supernatural "tag" that created a rudimentary telepathic system between the two? Li Lun is a tree, and all trees can communicate with other trees/ plants/ mushrooms via chemical signals. So, what if this is a similar system? But, because ZYZ is a monkey, the system is not fully functioning, in a sense that Li Lun can track ZYZ and get a sense of the other's mood, but he can't have full-blown conversations?

So, when they fight and LL is locked away, he is furious and hurt. Then, as the days go by, he settles down and tries to "ping" ZYZ through their bond to see if the other demon wants to reconcile like they did thousands of times before. But instead of a usual irritated "hi", he gets a tsunami of shame, hate, monster, and die? Tragically, those feelings are not directed at him, it is ZYZ spiraling into a suicidal manic episode and hating himself after the events of Blood Moon, he doesn't even hear Li Lun reaching out to him, doesn't realize he just sent a wave of "I hate yo ass, and I hope you die a horrible death" to his friend who is already dying, but Li Lun doesn't know that, he thinks it is directed at him. This just fuels the negative feedback loop because it hurts Li Lun even more, this suicidal / self-confining mood goes absolutely against his own will to survive and to be free and he, too, spirals into anger and lashes out. Maybe, he tries to "ping" ZYZ later, but gets the same response- and in desperation and anger cuts off the bond completely (which would explain why ZYZ says "you chose to break up").

*** AU idea below

Now, enter ZYC (no pun intended). He is, in essence, a water/air element- and water circulates freely through trees. Water also is a great conductor of chemical elements. This makes me think- what if LL somehow supernaturally hickeyed ZYC, would he be able to talk and exchange mental images with him? Maybe, to a point where Li Lun can see and feel whatever ZYC is seeing, and visa versa?

Who said symbiotic relationship? Oh, right, I did.

Of course, in the beginning, it would be very taxing on ZYC because Li Lun is still in his angry bitchy toddler mode- but if ZYC managed to shake Li Lun's world with just one alley conversation, imagine how much he can do with 3-4 conversations? Plus, LL will get a way to connect to other people's emotions- something he desperately needs to do to understand and deal with his own. And when Li Lun is out of his bitchy mode, he would be invaluable to the team.

(A hilarious plot point would also be Li Lun using the link just to mess with ZYC. Imagine others looking at ZYC's very concentrated face and thinking oh, he is having a mental fight with Li Lun again, such a brave and strong commander- while in reality he and Li Lun are sexting? Because Li Lun would absolutely pick the worst possible time to send the most lewd images in ZYC's mind just for funsies, and then laugh about it)

And the other part of the symbiotic relationship would be ZYC as water element being fully conductive of Li Lun's energy and power. Almost like Li Lun possessing ZYC with ZYC's full permission, but without actual body snatching?

Just imagine a "we are Venom" type of situation where ZYC has to fight ZYZ who's controlled by outside forces or in his Blood Moon mode, and ZYC's sword isn't there or doesn't work, and the Big Evil laughs because what could a mere human possibly do against a Great Demon? But ZYC catches ZYZ's claw as Li Lun's power surges through him... ZYC without his sword is no match for Zhu Yan, but ZYC merged with the other Great Demon? He might just have a chance.

Just food for thought.

[waitmyturtles]

Thank you so much for the tags, dear friend @lurkingshan, and what a way to kick off 2025 Asian QL discourse!

@wen-kexing-apologist done dropped an outstanding response to Shan's piece here that continues the conversation about the stripping of real queer perspectives and frameworks from Asian queer media that is very much worth reading. Just to set up how I want to respond to Shan's piece, I want to emphasize the inverse relationship of the mainstreaming of queer media to both the quantity and the quality of the queerness in queer shows.

A lot of Shan's and WKA's pieces focus on Thailand, which I will as well, because QL discourse on Tumblr is dominated by what's happening in Thailand vis à vis what scholar Thomas Baudinette calls the "T-wave" of media flowing out of Thailand that includes dramas and music, frontally led by international distribution of Thai queer media. Dr. Baudinette speaks briefly about the behavior of fans in the link above, and I want to unwind on this a bit more by way of what we're talking about with the de-queering of queer media.

I've been really critical, in my Old GMMTV Challenge project on the development of the Thai QL genre, of branded pairs, and the subsequent act by fans of shipping two real-life actors into fantasies of queer relationships. Shan above links to an incredibly important piece by @bengiyo from last year where he took fans to task for conflating their fantasies about real-life actors and projecting those fantasies on their understanding of the storytelling of fictional characters. Within that, as Shan quotes above, Ben asks his audience, and I paraphrase -- can you ask yourself if you REALLY like queer people, and queerness as a whole?

I want to propose that the branded pair system, and/or the subsequent fantastical shipping of otherwise real-life people, contributes to the erasure of queerness we are currently seeing in many shows from Thailand; the high majority of them coming from GMMTV, but to the points made above, we have now seen that happen in One31's Spare Me Your Mercy, with the SMYM screenwriter going so far as to say that NC scenes -- queer sex -- would have been distracting to the telling of the show's story. That's wrenching, to say the least, because of the sheer lack of truth behind that assumption of how stories can otherwise be told with sex and romance as important context in queer stories.

How can I prove this? I'm thinking of the controversy last year between Tay Tawan and Gun Atthaphan, both members of their own TayNew and OffGun branded pairs, who were unwittingly caught sharing a brief and playful smooch while playing a game on live camera.

The "Polca" TayNew fans were subsequently up in arms online, challenging Tay Tawan to his devotion to the TayNew "ship." In other words, his fans were angry at him for popping the balloon of their shipping fantasies.

In this case, I would like to note that while we see GMMTV reducing blatant queer perspectives and frameworks from their shows, and promoting friend-ships or bro-ships, in the case of High School Frenemy and the SkyNani branded pair, we see GMMTV's (and Thai BL's) rise continue to grow in certain Asian countries (like China, Malaysia, and Indonesia, among others) that do not allow for public displays of queerness, among other restrictions. GMMTV does not hold branded pair fan meetings in these countries, and yet, these countries are some of the channel's biggest markets for its queer shows and pairs. As well, these countries (I am part-Malaysian myself) do not have public programs of sex education. Thus, if I am to assume that the majority fan bases of these shows are young folks in countries that do not offer robust sex education, then these young folks (of any gender) might not be inclined to join in and participate in conversations about queer equality.

We, thus, get the outcry that occurred after Tay and Gun smooched. God forbid fantasies were to have been destroyed because two real-life people kissed. Two men, kissing, outside of the context of their branded pairs and outside the context of a drama. Some people have never been to the club before.

It seems to me that the fantasies of the fans are worth more, as an investment by GMMTV and other studios in Thailand, than actual artistic material that focuses on queerness at this point. Capitalism and mainstreaming go very well hand-in-hand when there's money to be made, and this, to me, speaks loudly to the excellent points that Shan has made above about really great queer art being anathema to center- and conservative-mainstreams. We're getting less of really great queer art in Thailand, because the dampening of queerness in Thai shows might very well mean more bucks for the studios.

Finally, a last point about capitalism that I'd like to make. I've been seeing a rising number of posts and comments taking Tumblr bloggers to task for being critical (like, objectively critical) of bad shows. Many folks don't want to read criticism of their fave shows and stars.

I want to note that if one takes this position -- the capitalists have won again. If you're someone who's trying to prevent critical takes from being published, well, you got got by the capitalists -- the studios, the managers who want you to be so in love with your faves that you will ponder asking a writer to censor themselves from making a critical take. You might feel ownership of your blorbo, protective of your favorite star. Those critical takes may feel, to you, like a takedown of your fave.

The studios and managers of your faves also don't want these takedowns, because if a star's reputation is dampened, that'll affect their economic bottom line, and the studio's economic bottom line. Just listen to two Thai BL dudes who've been through the ringer on this very issue. This kind of capitalism and social media frenzy can have actual and harmful effects on the human actors performing these fantastical works.

The capitalists are making their play on Asian QL. It was a hell of a move for the makers of Love In The Big City to get that show out the way that it did. And I very much hope that LITBC will have a lasting impact on South Korean media -- as the earlier, and very queer, shows of the Thai QL industry once had, and might have again, if we can support really great Asian queer art with the same gusto and strength as currently popular shows enjoy.

Spare Me Your Mercy, Love in the Big City, and the Trap of Pursuing Mainstream Popularity for Queer Art

I read this excellent post by @waitmyturtles yesterday tackling the frustrating failures of Spare Me Your Mercy, a show that was one of my most anticipated of the year, but that ended up so lost in its own confusing blend of sauces that I didn't even finish it. I appreciated her clarity that despite the show receiving strong ratings and finding popularity with the mainstream domestic audience, that doesn't actually make it a success as a piece of narrative storytelling. And if anything, its popularity underlines why it was a failure as a queer narrative, in particular.

Because here's the thing about great queer art—it's almost never popular with mainstream audiences, especially in socially conservative countries. High quality, well-executed, honest and authentic queer art is more likely to be protested than celebrated in places where real queer people are not safe to live free lives. For an illustration of this, look no further than another highly anticipated queer drama of this year in Love in the Big City. Easily the queerest show to ever get made and aired on Korean television, it drew major protests before it even started, forcing the production to release it quickly in one go to ensure it would reach audiences. And why were those conservative groups so afraid of this little old drama? Because even just in its trailer and promotional materials, it was clear this was no sanitized, G-rated drama created to make gay people seem more palatable to the masses (unlike the film version with the same name, which not coincidentally has been much more warmly received by the Korean media establishment). This show was real, and raw, and QUEER in a way that terrified those bigots, because they know one of the most important ways the oppressed can advocate for themselves is by demonstrating their humanity through art. 

Which brings me back to turtles’ post, and the importance of separating the concerns of art and commerce when discussing the different ways media can succeed. This is something I had some good dialogue about with @biochemjess @pharawee @clairedaring @flowerbeasblog and turtles (and even more of you in the tags) when I was still watching and posting about Spare Me Your Mercy. I originally posted to unpack why the show was flopping narratively, which turned into a discussion of the fact that it was getting good ratings from the domestic audience despite this. And while I appreciated understanding how the show is landing with its priority audience, for me, it’s very important to keep a distinction between these two different kinds of success. Especially in discussions of queer art, and especially for a show whose creators explicitly said they were intentionally downplaying the queer romance part of the queer romance ( @benkaben) to avoid “distracting” from their other messaging goals. 

The important thing to keep in mind is that for queer stories, when they are popular with a mainstream audience it’s often because they are stripping any authenticity from the representation of queer people. Turtles addressed this well in her review of 2gether when she posited that part of the reason it was such a phenomenon in conservative Asian countries (aside from the timing of its release in the early days of the global pandemic), was because its presentation of queerness was mostly unrecognizable to real queer people, stripped of any true notion of queer sexuality or the realities of homophobia. Compare the reception of The Miracle of Teddy Bear—a show that absolutely refused to make its central queer character palatable for a mainstream audience, because the fact that he wasn’t palatable was the point—to that of Spare Me Your Mercy, a show whose creators chose to censor their own story. The ugly truth is that when we’re talking about queer dramas, the best and most vital shows are pretty much anathema to mainstream ratings success.

The impulse to pursue mainstream popularity and commercial success for queer art inevitably leads to watering down queer stories ( @twig-tea) to make them more light, comfortable and familiar to a majority heterosexual and socially conservative audience. And yes, of course, some degree of commercial success is necessary for queer art to get made in the first place. This is how the Thai BL market took off, by recognizing that there was an audience beyond queer people who were open to watching stories about boys falling in love, as long as it didn’t get too real. But there is a careful line to walk here, and it’s so important not to confuse popularity with artistic merit. Queer people won’t win liberation by self-censoring queer media to make it more palatable for mainstream audiences. We win when we make queer art so good and so honest that the mainstream is forced to acknowledge it. We win by challenging the mainstream perspective on queer people and how they should behave, not by catering to it. As @bengiyo said in a completely different discourse, the question is not whether the audience can love queer characters whose actual queerness is suppressed for their comfort. That kind of respectability politics is old hat and it never fucking gets us anywhere. The real question he posed is this: “Do you love us when we’re ugly, when we’re sick, when we’re old, when we’re being mean or catty?”

Which is why a show like Love in the Big City ultimately won by being so excellent, and so true, and so undeniable, that it broke through with audiences around the world and achieved some measure of recognition in spite of how very unpalatable it was to its domestic audience. Unlike Spare Me Your Mercy, this show did not get amazing domestic ratings, but its message was heard far beyond those who watched it on Korean television. And that is the point. Making authentic art that advances the struggle of queer people and making nominally queer art that can achieve mainstream popularity are completely different pursuits, and we must keep that in mind when we discuss whether and how these shows succeeded or failed. And while both must exist in a healthy media ecosystem, one will always be more vital for the survival of queer people than the other. 

[kommandonuovidiavoli]

Side B: a new AU concept

So, me and @numbuhinfinitys were talking and she asked me "what happens to Reyna and DCFDTL's relationship in your time set?".

And it got me thinking: as the AU is, it would be impossible for Reyna and/or other OCs to exist, since there is a set story that needs to happen and characters have specific roles that leave next to nothing for them to happen outside said story.

So the answer would be "it doesn't exist because they will stay as kids and won't fall for anyone". BUT at the same time, I found myself wanting to interact with other people's OCs, and I want them to interact with mine too!

And that's where Side B comes in: Side B is basically the same AU as my normal one BUT people's OCs exist, interact with it and maybe might also change the outcome of certain events or just influence them! It's a way so I can create more stories and have people in it without me getting a headache because changes need to be made (LMAO).

Going back to Reyna: in Side B, she is like an 80s magical girl: a cool teenager idol that Penny loves a lot who can turn into a kid who lives with the DC and protects them from KND attacks! This is the base of her role, and things can be built and happen from here: Nigel might know her from GKND and also her childhood days and doesn't trust her because she lives in the Villa (and he has lived here too for a short time). He also might not know Reyna is also protecting the Children from Father himself! There are a lot of possibilities from here, maybe Sector V somehow doesn't remember her and is just chill. Maybe they might like her Teen Idol self.

Let's make two other little examples using @kandykatz 's blorbs: Carol is in love with the Interesting Twins; but from my AU we know they are decommissioned at this time. In Side B, they could still be commissioned because Carol managed to have them spared and they are happy together. Or, they are decommissioned and Carol still loves them and goes on a trip to win their hearts again. Or the pain was just too much and she got decommissioned as well to forget about them but somehow they meet again. There are a lot of possibilities for this!

Same for Aiden: in my AU Patton is an evil guy; Aiden could be evil too, or he could be a TND operative in a secret relationship with Patton, or they broke up and now there's bad blood between them. Aiden might convince Patton to go back to being good. OR, he never became a villain because of Aiden!

Of course, it's up to anyone to decide how their OC are, as long as they are mindful of my world! My DMs are open if you wanna plot a specific event!

Side B will go together with my normal AU, but posts tagged with "Side B" specifically mean that they are events that completely change or differ something inside the story!

Side B is what my story would be if other people where in.

If you made a post with our characters interacting, you already are inside Side B!

I'm excited to see what else my AU could be!!! Thanks to anyone who will join!