#I’m struggling so much this chapter I just cannot transition anything

[smilesrobotlover]

Sheik finally becomes friends with Link and realizes how annoying he really is

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 22 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren woke in a bed, which was not a surprise. His favorite blanket – the one Wen Ruohan had bought for him – was tucked in around him, and this was also not a surprise.

He was in the Nightless City, which was.

“How…?”

“Your brother gave permission,” Wen Ruohan said, and Lan Qiren twisted his head in surprise, not having seen him sitting there at the desk beside the bed. Wen Ruohan was writing something, his brush movement steady and unhurried; it was a distinct contrast to the seething rage lingering in his voice. “Since I know you care about that.”

“Of course I care,” Lan Qiren said blankly. “He really gave permission?”

Wen Ruohan’s brush paused. “Are you suggesting that I’m lying?”

Lan Qiren considered it for a moment, then said, a little helplessly, “It seems more likely than him agreeing to cut my punishment short.”

Wen Ruohan snorted, and put his brush down. “I insisted,” he said, and the smug curl of his smile suggested it had been more than a casual conversation. “Anyway, he didn’t want a fuss.”

Naturally not, as He Kexin might object, Lan Qiren thought to himself, and shook his head at his own bitterness. He realized a moment later that it didn’t hurt to do that.

“How long did I sleep?” he asked, alarmed. The transit to the Nightless City was long, unless someone decided to waste vast amounts of qi flying by sword – which he could see Wen Ruohan doing – but the staves used for the Lan sect’s more severe discipline were not like those used for more mundane offenses. While they weren’t on par with a discipline whip, they were still made of spiritual wood, infused with qi; the injuries they left would not heal so quickly.

“I applied medicine,” Wen Ruohan said, rising to his feet and coming over to sit by Lan Qiren’s side on the bed, helping him sit up. “You’re not healed, only numb…I understand you’ve been having difficulties in your sect for some time, and that was even before the lady attacked you in an effort to frame you for her own rape.”

“I’m fairly sure she just wanted to show my brother that she wasn’t interested in him,” Lan Qiren said, wincing. He would not have phrased it quite like that, although thinking it over, it did seem to be a fair way to describe it, if an uncomplimentary one. “It’s not a stretch to think that picking his less impressive brother over him would do it.”   

Wen Ruohan’s lips curled into a sneer. “Truly, an ingenious mind. Did she think herself so attractive that no man would ever deny her?”

That, or else she’d been truly desperate. Lan Qiren could sympathize with her to that extent. After all, do not take advantage of your position to oppress others was a rule for a reason, and the power and influence a Great Sect could bring to bear against a rogue cultivator was not nothing. But his sympathy ended at the point where she’d decided it was acceptable to harm him in order to achieve her goal – even looking at her actions in the best possible light and assuming that she sincerely thought he would participate willingly in her plan, she’d made all sorts of assumptions and hadn’t bothered to verify anything before acting on them. 

He Kexin might be free and unrestrained, as his brother had described her, but she was also perilously reckless, and selfish, too.

Still, at the same time Lan Qiren thought about Wen Ruohan’s smirk when he mentioned his ‘insistence’ with his brother – he wasn’t sure if it involved physical violence or not, although the mental image of such a confrontation was oddly satisfying – and grimaced at the thought of the same sort of pressure being brought to bear on someone without a Great Sect’s protection. “About - He Kexin…”

“You needn’t concern yourself for the lady’s sake,” Wen Ruohan said, and his tone was a little unpleasant. “Even after all that, she permitted herself to be convinced by one of her friends that the advantages of receiving Qingheng-jun’s affections outweighed the disadvantages, despite her own better instincts; that seems punishment enough for the moment. Someone who does not hesitate to blind themselves at the say-so of another will reap the reward they deserve in the end…”

He shook his head, and smiled once more, displaying a glint of teeth. 

“You may take comfort that I took no action against her. However, I did suggest that the lady in question consider avoiding Qishan on her future travels.”

Lan Qiren felt something warm pricking his heart. “The thought is appreciated, although unnecessary. The one whose conduct is in the wrong is my brother.”

He’d appreciate an apology from He Kexin, whether for misjudging him or ignoring his refusals, but he wouldn’t hold out hope for it.

“I can be angry at more than one person at once,” Wen Ruohan said. A strange expression flitted over his features. “I admit, I would have thought Lao Nie would have done something about the entire situation sooner. Even if you weren’t writing to me, why didn’t you write to him?”

“I did,” Lan Qiren said. “His initial reply was – unsatisfactory.”

Lao Nie had responded rather casually to Lan Qiren’s message laying out the situation with his brother and He Kexin, speaking light-heartedly of the burning ardor of first love; he had assured Lan Qiren that it was normal to feel troubled by the thought of being left behind, even when the relationship was not good, and that his brother would probably resurface from his infatuation a happier person in the end. It was fairly evident that he hadn’t read all of Lan Qiren’s carefully composed letter.

“I asked him to come by the Lan sect,” he added. “But he was otherwise occupied.”

Wen Ruohan pressed his lips together in irritation. “He’s been otherwise occupied for some time now. You’re not the only one whose letters he’s disregarded.”

“Even you?” Lan Qiren said wonderingly. “But he likes you so much.”

The tightness in Wen Ruohan’s face eased a little. “I’ve asked him to visit here on account of your health,” he said. “I expect to see him arrive in his usual ridiculous flurry of temper and hen-like concern soon enough – once he reads the letter, anyway.”

Lan Qiren nodded, then hesitated. “The last time I was here…”

Wen Ruohan gazed at him sidelong.

Lan Qiren bit his lip. “I understand that I overstepped –”

“Don’t apologize.”

Lan Qiren stopped.

Wen Ruohan looked irritated again. “Don’t apologize,” he said again. “Are you not my little brother? If you cannot scold me, who is there that lives who can? I am not Qingheng-jun.”

Lan Qiren wasn’t entirely sure how the two were connected.

“If you want to make it up to me, go back to the way you addressed me before,” Wen Ruohan added.

Lan Qiren frowned, confused. “How do you mean?”

“Call me da-ge. Not xiongzhang.”

“…the latter is more polite.”

“So is listening to your elders,” Wen Ruohan said haughtily. “As you’re so fond of saying, it’s what I asked.”

“All right, da-ge,” Lan Qiren said obediently, and Wen Ruohan looked pleased.

“Rest,” he ordered, rising to his feet. “There will be dinner soon, and perhaps we can play weiqi once again…is there anything else you need for your room?”

Lan Qiren’s room in the Nightless City was very similar to the room Wen Ruohan had prepared for him in the Cloud Recesses; he couldn’t think of anything else he might need. Except only…

“I don’t suppose you could ask your spies to check in on my rooms back home,” Lan Qiren said, even as he settled back down to rest as instructed. “There was a painting there that you gifted to me that I liked a lot. It fell during the fight, and I haven’t been back since. I don’t want it thrown away.”

“Which one? I got you several…the mountain pass? The flowering tree?”

“No, the landscape with the rolling hills,” Lan Qiren said, and Wen Ruohan, who had been about to leave, stopped abruptly by the door. “It’s a little burned at the edges; you can’t really mistake it for anything else.”

“You liked that one?” Wen Ruohan’s voice was strange, full of some emotion that Lan Qiren was too tired to even try to decipher. “Above the others? The quality is much less, and the skill with the brush inferior.”

“The person who painted it was happy,” Lan Qiren explained. “There’s an echo of the painter’s residual qi trapped in the ink, you can tell a little bit about who they were from that. Whoever it was, they were brash and bold, arrogant and carefree – full of potential, like a phoenix about to alight to a higher branch. Their soul was like a falcon’s, tied down by nothing. Looking at it is an inspiration, and a comfort. I use it sometimes as a focus for meditation.”

“…I’ll have my spies check,” Wen Ruohan said, and he must be truly perturbed by Lan Qiren’s punishment-induced injuries if he had actually just admitted to having spies in the Cloud Recesses. “In the meantime, I have several other works by the same…artist. If you’d like.”

“Oh, very much!” Lan Qiren said enthusiastically; he tried to struggle up to sit again, but he started to feel pain even through the numbness of the anesthetic he’d been dosed with. Wen Ruohan glared him back down, and he yielded meekly, knowing that he was in no state to be really protesting. “Thank you, da-ge. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

Wen Ruohan huffed and put a hand behind his back, sweeping out the door like a gust of wind.

Lan Qiren lay back down, staring up at the ceiling.

Are you really going to do this? he wondered. Will you really forgive him for what he has done, for what he is, just because you desperately need support? What happened to your principles? Your rules?

He exhaled hard, almost a sigh. He still wasn’t all right with the torture, still thought it was wrong for a man to exult in the pain of others in such a grotesque fashion, but he’d gone back to his standby, the rules, and he was reminded brutally that they were designed to function as guides for the self, not for the world. You were supposed to embrace the entirety of the world, to shoulder the burden of morality, to refuse to tolerate evil – and yet the rules of hospitality, of host and guest, of neighbors, were ranked just as high.

He could choose to continue to hold back, to express his disdain of Wen Ruohan’s ways with distance and reserve, but it wouldn’t stop Wen Ruohan from doing what he wanted anyway, and it would leave Lan Qiren even more isolated and friendless than he was already.

It would be better to compromise.

And yet – it was hard, perilously hard, to force himself to do so. It was one of his flaws, he knew: how uncompromising he was, how unyielding, how bitterly he held onto his opinions, refusing to change, especially when he thought he was right.

For his own sake, he needed to try to do so. But he also needed to at least try to salvage his conscience, too.

He’d have to find a way to do both.

So decided, Lan Qiren reserved the issue of how he would do that in the back of his mind, returning to sleep. It would be easier, he thought, to resolve the issue in the morning, once he’d healed up a little more.

It wasn’t, but that was mostly because he was horrified to discover that he had no proper clothing.

“You have clothing that fits,” Wen Ruohan replied, the mildness of his voice failing to conceal the glint of amusement in his eyes. “It’s even in your clan’s colors. What’s the problem?”

“It’s too much,” Lan Qiren insisted, shaking the clothing at him. He had at least been left his inner robes, though he felt naked without the extra layer. “My formal clothing is less excessive than this!”

“That is surely a matter for your sect, isn’t it? I don’t think it’s excessive.”

“You have no sense of proportion!”

Wen Ruohan shrugged. “I can send for something else,” he said. “Even from your home, if you like. By regular post, it should only take a week or so to arrive.”

Lan Qiren scowled.

“If you really prefer, you’re welcome to walk around naked until then –”

Lan Qiren was so aggravated that he actually hissed at him, surprising Wen Ruohan into a laugh that interrupted his words, and returned to his room to begrudgingly put on the robes. They were white and silver, his usual preference – not interwoven with blue, but that wasn’t a surprise, given that white was a secondary color for the Wen sect as well as the Lan – but they were also ridiculously overwrought: embroidered brocade, silks so fine that they had to be layered in order to not be translucent, studded with shining pearls and what might be actual silver…

“Absurd,” he grumbled, but put on the clothing and came back out. “Do you enjoy tormenting me? Is that it?”

“At times,” Wen Ruohan said, his eyes curved and merry. “Come, sit. It’s your move.”

Lan Qiren permitted himself to succumb to his sworn brother’s atrocious taste for the evening, then stole away to the laundry room the first chance he could, determined to beg for a set of clothing that was somewhat more normal – even mourning clothing would be acceptable, as long as it was neither Wen sect nor horribly garish.

Wen Ruohan found him there, arguing spiritedly with the tailor, and whisked him back to his rooms on account of Lan Qiren’s injuries, arguing, correctly, that Lan Qiren was on the verge of collapsing and coughing up blood from having been a bit too enthusiastic.

Eventually, after some of what Lan Qiren called reasoned debate and what Wen Ruohan called flagrant sulking, Wen Ruohan agreed to get him something a little more normal to wear on the condition that he wear at least one adornment of Wen Ruohan’s choosing along with it.

“You secretly wanted to play with dolls as a child,” Lan Qiren said accusingly, even though the initial adornment – a belt loop made from moonstone and jade – was entirely appropriate, even by Lan sect standards. “You were denied the chance then, and now you make it everyone else’s problem. Is that it?”

“Perhaps,” Wen Ruohan said. “It’s been so long, how would I remember?”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes and gamely lost to him at weiqi a few more times.

It was perilously easy to slip back into the comfortable camaraderie that they’d developed on his last visit, he reflected as he prepared for bed that evening. It was something he enjoyed - something they both enjoyed - and if Lan Qiren only kept his opinions to himself, convinced himself to actually bend for once, he might be able to actually keep it, this time. 

The next morning, he went to the extensive library kept by the Wen sect and took down several books on anatomy, carefully copying out the goriest parts of it in his best calligraphy; he wasn’t an inspired painter like the nameless ancient that had done the pictures that now hung in his room here, but he excelled at dry and lifeless copies, which was about what you wanted from an anatomy text.

He finished the small booklet within a few days, and gave it to Wen Ruohan one evening before dinner.

“What’s this?” Wen Ruohan asked, flipping through it with a slightly bemused expression. “Medicine?”

“Anatomy,” Lan Qiren corrected. “Since you – like that sort of thing. It’s a gift.”

Wen Ruohan blinked very deliberately. “Little Lan,” he said, staring down at one of the more explicit illustrations. “Did you get me a gift to help me torture people better?”

“I got you a gift because you’re my sworn brother, and you’re taking care of me,” Lan Qiren said with as much dignity as he could muster in light of the patheticness of his abject surrender. “I got you this gift because it seemed relevant to your interests. Anyway, it’s not something I can share, or even really countenance – and in all honesty I would prefer that you not do it while I’m around, or at minimum try not to mention it to me, to make it easier to look the other way – I mean, it’s not going to be easy, but easier – well, my scruples aren’t important. It’s something that matters to you, so I’ll just –”

Wen Ruohan cleared his throat, interrupting him. “You don’t need to worry about that,” he said, looking at the space above Lan Qiren’s head for some reason. “The Fire Palace has had trouble keeping my interest recently; the entertainment has gone stale. I have moved on.”

Lan Qiren had not expected that, and he smiled happily, his pricked conscience unexpectedly granted a reprieve. For some reason, it made Wen Ruohan stare at him.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that you’re not torturing people for sport any longer,” Lan Qiren told him, in case it wasn’t clear. “As for the booklet, even if it’s not quite right for your interests right now, I still hope you enjoy the work...I’ll get you a better gift next time.”

“No need to strain yourself,” Wen Ruohan said. “I will be pleased no matter what it is, I’m sure.”

He gestured for Lan Qiren to enter the dining room first, which Lan Qiren did. Oddly enough, despite his cliché and rather condescending reassurances, Wen Ruohan looked especially pleased throughout dinner, almost as if he really meant what he’d said.

It was nice, Lan Qiren thought, to be liked. One could get used to it.

His injuries were healing very well, between the medicines Wen Ruohan’s doctors plied him with – Lan Qiren attempted not to calculate the value of them, certain that they were probably worth more than a small sect’s heirloom treasure – and the rich spiritual energy Wen Ruohan insisted on infusing him with, morning and night. Lan Qiren tried to protest that the latter was unnecessary, but Wen Ruohan had stood on his rights as the host, and at any rate he simply had so much qi that the effort seemed not to wear on him at all. So Lan Qiren let him keep doing it, Wen Ruohan’s warm hands conveying warm qi as he spoke to him of various matters, important and trifling, and Lan Qiren – liked it.

“In the Nightless City, we release lanterns several times a year, not just on the Lantern Festival,” Wen Ruohan murmured into Lan Qiren’s ear as he sat there, eyes growing heavy as his rules-mandated bedtime approached. “It’s a celebration of the sun as our sect’s sigil. The lanterns come in all shapes and sizes and colors, and we light the flames with spiritual energy. There’s a day not far from now where we will do it; people are making preparations already. Your body is still stiff and unbending, your wounds still healing – you’ll be here to see it.”

Lan Qiren nodded.

“Good,” Wen Ruohan said. “Very good…ah, little Lan, what a strange thing you are. When you were gone, I thought of you often no matter what I wished. I thought that I could cure it by having you here, but now you are here before me, every day, and yet I think of you no less. It seems that seeing you every day does not cause me to tire of you.”

“Yes, you’re very easily amused,” Lan Qiren said, his eyes sliding shut as the warm qi circulated through his body. “I think we long ago established that.”

“Is there any feature of yours that you actually like, little Lan? Or is it all self-depreciation?”

“I have a good brain,” Lan Qiren said. “I’m creative and analytical, and I explain things well; I make for a decent or even accomplished teacher. My musical ability is good, both in terms of playing and composition. Also, I’m informed that my face is first rate.”

Wen Ruohan laughed behind his shoulder. “I stand corrected.”

When they parted that night, all was well.

The peace did not last until morning.

[morkleemelon]

off the ice || chapter 4: don’t look back

previous || m.list || playlist || next

pairing: college hockey player! mark x fem. college figure skater! reader

genre: fluff, sports au, college au

word count: 6.5k

warnings: blood, mention of surgery, description of injuries, swearing, financial struggle

author’s note: huge thanks again to my beta readers @writing-frog​ and @skiimmiilk​ for being a great help to making this story better! the slow burn fire is finally burning in this chapter and I’m so excited :) if you haven’t been listening already, I highly recommend the playlist for this chapter! enjoy~

“What do you mean ‘it’s fine’?,” you sobbed, gripping the side of her hospital bed. You wanted to give your best friend a hug, but you didn’t want to risk hurting her more. Yuna’s right leg was pinned into an apparatus, the intricate metal carefully holding together the broken bones, her usual perfect skin marred by scratches of red and patches of blue. 

“I mean what I said”. Even with a sore voice and her current situation, Yuna managed to speak with dignity.

“And Ms. Kim is right,” the doctor agreed, jotting down a prescription on her clipboard, “the surgeries went well and she is in stable condition. The good news is that with proper rest and physical therapy, she will be able to walk again. Now, it’s my duty to be honest with you. You said you’re a figure skater?”.

“Yes”. Yuna uncurled her fingers, inviting you to hold her hand. You accepted it, bracing both of you for the bad news. Ten sat at the other side of the bed pressing her other hand to his lips.

“While we cannot rule out the possibility, the likelihood of you being able to skate again is very low. Especially for the next few years”. 

Yuna’s tough façade started to crumble at the shocking reality and her lips trembled as she choked back tears. You pressed your forehead to her hand as you hid your own tears from her. 

“God damn it!”. Ten yelled, getting up and kicking away the stool he was sitting on. The loud bang was followed by the sound of quiet weeping. “I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight. I shouldn’t have told you to go to the car first. None of this should’ve happened, god damn it”. The older boy cried into his palms as he placed the blame on himself. 

“Please settle down and refrain from disturbing the patient,” the doctor warned, “but we would like to talk to you about the details of the accident, Ms. Kim, now that you’re awake and stable”.

Yuna nodded, a few tears escaping and rolling down her scraped-up cheeks.

“Your right leg is broken in three places upon impact with the vehicle: two in the femur and one major area in the tibia. You then sustained minor external injury as you fell to the pavement, scraping your arms and face. We will run additional tests later on to determine if you also have a concussion. If you can remember any details of how this accident happened, please describe them to me and we can notify the police to help find the suspect”, the doctor continued.

“I,” Yuna cleared her throat, “I was at a party last night and I had a bit to drink. We stayed pretty late and Ten is close with the host, so we just decided to sleep over. Then this morning, I woke up early and I wanted to go on a drive to clear my head. Ten had to get something so I left the house first. I- I checked both ways before I crossed the street to his car, but before I knew it… it came out of nowhere and I was on the ground. I don’t… I can’t remember anything about it. The next thing I remember was being in the ambulance with Ten”. 

“I heard the whole thing happen,” Ten added softly, “I was inside the house at the time and I heard the screeching tires and Yuna screamed. By the time I ran outside, the car was gone and Yuna was bleeding on the ground”. He closed his eyes and clenched his fist. “All I could do was call an ambulance. I- I didn’t see the car or the bastard driving it. All I could do was sit with her in the street while we waited. She wasn’t waking up and all I could do was sit with her. I couldn’t even move her because I was afraid it would make it worse and she was bleeding everywhere. All I could do was sit there”. 

Tears stream down your face as you listen to Ten break down. The normally bright and optimistic man now had his face in his hands, hiccupping uncontrollably at the thought of how close he came to losing the love of his life.

“Hey,” Yuna groaned, struggling to keep her own voice steady, “baby, I’m okay. When we met, you were hurt and struggling, but you got through it because we were together. We’re still together and we can get through this too”. She touched her fingers through his hair gently. 

“Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Kim, and both of your friends. The police are currently asking for witnesses for your hit-and-run case and will update you with any findings. These are your prescriptions”, the doctor slid the piece of paper onto the counter, “the nurse will come find you later to talk about your treatment. For now, I’ll leave you all alone”. 

The room fell silent, only interrupted by the occasional sniffle as the doctor shut the door behind her.

“Hey y/n?”. Yuna turned her head gingerly to you.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I can’t do the competition with you now. I promised I would but…”

“Don’t even… how could you worry about that right now?”, you sobbed, “don’t you worry about it, Yuna, the competition doesn’t matter at all. I’m just glad you’re okay right now. You should focus on getting better, not worry about me of all things”. 

“Y/n is right,” Ten agreed, “you were there for me when I got hurt. And when I thought there was no way out, you held my hand and pulled me up from the darkness. Doctor says you have a good chance of walking, so let’s get you there first. Then we’ll work on beating the odds and getting you back on the ice again”. 

“You guys…” Yuna smiled slightly, careful not to strain her bruised jaw. 

“I’ll come visit you as much as I can,” you promised, “I can bring my sleeping bag, clothes, and a jar of peanut butter. We can just be roommates here instead. There’s free AC and disney band aids too, it’ll be great”. Your attempt to lighten the mood was well received as the couple chuckles together. 

“By the way, I called your parents while you were in surgery and they’re on their way over now. They should actually be here soon,” Ten noted.

“I’ll leave you guys then,” you offered. There was a two visitor limit and you didn’t want to intrude on Ten and Yuna’s chance to have some private time before her parents bombarded her with concern. Not to mention Mark has been sitting in the waiting room for a few hours now and you wanted to be respectful of his time too.

Offering your last words of support to Yuna, you shut the door quietly behind you. Dabbing at your watery eyes with the edge of your sleeve, you attempt to fix your run-off makeup using your phone camera. Everything felt kind of numb. The events of the last 24 hours were surreal and staying up the whole night with Mark certainly did not help as the tiredness was catching up to you. Concern, upset, worry, and frustration formed a thick cloud in your thoughts. Your brain was like a jammed printer and the thoughts were not processing. You were in shock to say the least.

You shuffle your way down the hall to the waiting area and look for Mark’s familiar blonde hair. You spot him fast asleep in his seat, arms crossed over his chest as he leans his head back against the wall. His mouth is slightly agape, forming a soft ‘o’ as he breathed steadily in and out. Seeing him sleep so peacefully made you relax a little. 

At least there was something good about today.

“Hey,” you whisper, shaking him gently. His eyes blink open slowly, wincing at the bright hospital lights. 

“Hey,” he croaks, rubbing his eyes as he sits up straight. “How’s Yuna? Did you get to see her?”.

“She’s…,” you pause, “she’s okay. She said she was okay when I saw her just now and the doctor said she’s stable but…,” your voice trails off. 

“But what?,” Mark asked gently, placing a comforting hand on your back. You look around to make sure there was nobody around who could overhear. A few people sat around the waiting room a ways away, texting on their phones or flipping through the free health magazines. The receptionist’s monotonous voice droned on as she answered a phone call.

“The doctor says that Yuna might not be able to skate again,” you murmured. Even though the doctor made it clear before, saying the words out loud felt extremely surreal. You imagined if it were you lying on the hospital bed hearing this news. To not be able to skate again… it was too awful to comprehend. Tears roll down your cheeks before you could help it, dangling from the point of your chin before falling onto your green volunteer shirt. 

Mark thought about what he could say in reply to the devastating news, but decided it was best to not say anything at all. Pulling you in for a hug, you cry silently into the crook of his neck. You wrap your arms around his torso and hold on for dear life. 

The next few weeks pass by rather uneventfully after the incident, at least comparatively. Police were still on the case of Yuna’s hit-and-run perpetrator, but they struggled to find witnesses when the crime occurred so early in the morning. Even the local CCTV didn’t cover the area where it happened and the driver was still ultimately at large. 

The Lee’s and your other friends texted in the group chat plenty and you grew much more comfortable with having them around. Mark drives you to the hospital to visit Yuna a couple times a week and the three of you would eat lunch together in her room for a small sense of normalcy. It was a tough transition for you nonetheless- your best friend and roommate who you were used to seeing every day now was now seemingly so far away and your time together was reduced to a few hours a week. However, the initial shock of the situation eventually faded and the two of you came to terms with how things were. Yuna and you agreed to not cry about it anymore until she got started on physical therapy and gave recovery her best shot. Thankfully, Ten was there with her everyday and night, so it was bearable for her. 

Mark’s always been sweet about your comfort zone, too, never pushing you to talk about your feelings yet at the same time, always there for you when you needed him. Neither one of you brought up the almost-kisses, the first reason being you weren’t ready to remind yourself of the horrible things that happened afterwards and the second being that Mark wanted to respect that you needed time to process it. 

So the days tick by and seeing Mark became part of your daily routine. It was something you looked forward to when you got ready in the morning and although you didn’t really know it, it was something you needed to make your day feel complete. His good heart shined more and more to you everyday as you chose to continue to accompany him to Sunday volunteering. You got to witness how Mark’s eyes glowed whenever he talked to the people he served. He treated everyone there as if they were his own family and even though many of the people he helps are much older, he continues every conversation with sincerity and maturity. 

In addition to walking you to class everyday, Mark now has a special seat next to you in the front row of your economics lecture, leaving Jeno and Ten snickering behind you as they watch your close interactions. You ate lunch at the willow tree by the basketball court on the days you weren’t visiting Yuna. After a while, you grew used to the dirty looks from the girls across the court, even glaring back when you met Hillary’s fiery stare. Nonetheless, you developed a comfortable social routine and everything was going quite well, except for one abundant issue weighing heavily on your shoulders.

The middle of October rolls by and you grind your way through your evening shift at Frankie’s. Thankfully, it was a Tuesday, so late-night stragglers weren’t an issue. You finish scrubbing down the counters in the kitchen and wipe your hands on your waitress apron. Unfortunately, it was your turn to close so you were the only one left working tonight. Your back ached from the hours of waiting tables and your cheeks hurt from the wide smile you offered all of your customers, rude or not. Sighing, you count your tips for the day.

A bell chimes from the door.

“Sorry we’re closed-,” you stop your words as you see the figure illuminated by the low diner lights. 

“Is it too late for me to talk with the pretty waitress?” Mark grins, unzipping and taking off his wind breaker. You roll your eyes but your smile tells him you aren’t actually annoyed.

“The pretty waitress is covered in barbeque sauce and all purpose cleaner. Proceed?”

“Oh no, not barbeque sauce! Cancel request! Cancel Request!”

You laugh, throwing a nickel at his dramatic show. 

“Wait, give that back to me. I need every tip I can get,” you say, holding out your hand to receive the coin. Mark obediently picks it up, handing it to you as he takes a seat at the bar. You thank him, flipping through the crinkled, greasy bills from the tip jar. The creeping disappointment must have shown on your face because Mark broke the silence.

“Not a good night?” His words were careful. He understood you were under a lot of stress recently, but he didn’t have the heart to pry further and make you tell him why, which you appreciated. Mark assumed it was about Yuna or grades, but you never confided the real reason of how much your financial situation really scared you.

“Not a good…” you debate telling him everything. On one hand, you didn’t want to come off as needy or desperate. You were infamously bad at sharing your burdens with others. On the other, you wanted to tell Mark because you know he would listen and it would make you feel better. “Not a good anything,” you finally admit, setting the scraggly bills down on the clean counter between you. 

Only $26.84 for the whole night.

Mark’s soft brows were creased in concern as he waited for you to elaborate. He rested his chin on his knuckle, watching you pensate your feelings carefully. You meet his soft gaze, his eyes telling you that it’s okay. You let your shoulders relax, not even realizing the tension they were carrying.

“I…,” you start, letting out a small sigh as you walk your way around the counter to sit on the stool next to him. He spun his stool so he was sitting facing you. You pick at the mysterious stain on your apron. 

How do I even tell him about this? Hey Mark, I’m broke! I might drop out because I don’t have money for school, thus ruining everything my parents and I have worked for. 

“I guess I’m just worried,” you resolve after a minute, “I’m worried because, well, because of money”. You wince at hearing the words out loud but continue before you could take it back, “my parents are working really hard to get the money for my tuition, but things aren’t looking good for next semester”. You continue to tell him about how you’ve been picking up extra shifts to try to save up, but skating fees and money for basic necessities eats whatever you earn right up. The thought of quitting skating to save money came to your mind, but you never followed through because that was as much of a necessity as anything. A miracle occurred with the skating competition, only for some sick bastard to hurt Yuna. You asked around but everyone already had a partner or were too busy to participate in the competition. So now you could either go rob a bank or take a gap year and hope you’ll be able to return. Mark listened to your qualms quietly until you finished.

“The competition, did you ask people who aren’t on your team?,” Mark inquired, resting a reassuring hand on yours.

“Yeah, I even asked the girls on JV, but nobody wants to do it since they think they can’t win,” you confirm with a sad nod.

“That’s so dumb,” Mark stated, “you’re like, the best skater ever. Even the worst girl on JV could win if they did it with you”.

You look at him in surprise. His thumb ran comfortingly across your knuckles, sending tingles down your arm. A blush creeps onto your cheeks as you look back down at your joined hands. To be honest, you weren’t really sure what you guys were: officially, you were just friends at the moment, but anyone could see that there was something there. As of late, too much has been on your mind for you to possibly sit down and ponder it. Neither one of you has confessed feelings of any sort, but the night at the lake couldn’t just be ignored. And do normal friends hold hands like this?

“Right, tell that to them. Nobody wanted to be my partner, so yeah, I’m kind of in a pickle with tuition right now”

“Well can anyone be your partner?,” Mark asked.

“What do you mean? Like, just ask random strangers to skate with me?”

“No I mean like… I could do it”. His expression was serious, alluding that he meant every word of his ridiculous proposition.

“You could-” you stop to consider, “I mean I guess? I don’t think Coach Tanya said anything about the participants needing to be on the team… or be a girl. But there’s a big problem we’re not considering.”

“What problem?”

“You don’t know how to figure skate”. You free your hand from his and punch him lightly in the arm. 

“But I play hockey and I’ve skated all my life,” Mark bargained, pointing to himself smugly and shrugging, “how hard can it be?”

“How hard-” you wheeze. You laugh out loud as the serious boy looked on indignantly. “Figure skating is miles different from what you guys do. Y’all go, what, forwards and backwards? Can you do a jump?”.

“I can too do a jump,” Mark defended.

“Okay, what about a single axel jump?”

“Uh…”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you giggle, grabbing the counter and spinning your stool around. Mark watches you endearingly.

“Y/n” the sound of your name stops your childish break and you look at him expectantly. “What if I practiced every day. I can learn your uh- single axis”

“Axel,” you correct.

“Axel. I can learn this axel jump and I can practice it and whatever else you need so you can do the competition”. You couldn’t tell if he was being serious, but your heart skipped a beat nonetheless.

“Deadass?” 

“Deadass,” Mark nodded. 

“Why… why…”. You struggled to find the right words.

“Because I like you,” Mark interrupted, “and I want to do this for you because it would make you happy. I’d streak across campus fully nude and screaming if it made you happy”. 

Did he just...confess?

“It would,” you nod seriously.

“It would? Which part? The competition or-”

“No, the streaking,” you shake your head, ignoring the steady increase of your heart rate. You press your lips into a flat line and nod to feign seriousness. Mark paused before getting up. He reached for the hem of his shirt, sighing before lifting it up over his head. 

“Let’s get this over with,” he sighed, reaching for his belt buckle. You shriek, shielding your eyes from his half-nude appearance. Although you didn’t want to admit it, you let your eyes linger on his lean torso through your fingers.

Damn, maybe hockey does have some benefits. 

“I was kidding! Please put your clothes back on!,” you cry. You heard him laugh as he pulled the fabric back on. 

“Okay I’m decent. I’m decent,” Mark assured, taking his seat next to you again. “But seriously, I meant what I said and you don’t have to reply until you’re ready. I completely understand if you don’t know yet. Just know that I am here for you and I,” he grabbed the edge of your stool and pulled it firmly so you were facing him, “really like you. As more than friends”.

You felt surprisingly confident; the stress of life always went away when Mark was around and you forgot all about the scattered pennies and nickels on the counter. Although his confession was so sudden, you had a feeling it was coming eventually. It didn’t feel shocking, but more like… finally. That being said, you were unsure of what to say. You weren’t sure you were ready for a relationship and most of all, you weren’t sure about your feelings for him. The last thing you wanted was to say you like him back and have it end up not being true. 

Like always, the understanding, patient look in Mark’s eyes told you that he would wait for you to reply when you’re ready.

“Okay”. You smile. 

“Okay”. He mirrors.

“Let’s do it, the competition,” you decide.

“Really?”

“Yeah, let’s give it our best shot! After all, it’s a crowd vote and your popularity might gain us favor,” you tease, poking his chest. “What time is it?”

“It’s 9:48pm, why?,” Mark replied, checking his lock screen. You hopped off your stool and began untying your apron.

“You drove here right?”. He nods. “Then there’s somewhere I wanna go if you’re willing to drive”. You shove your tips for the night into your bag. 

“You know I’m always down for you,” Mark smiled, grabbing your jacket off the rack and helping you into it. He stood in front of you and zipped you up without you asking, fixing the hood so it was proper. You watch him in silence and awe as he smooths down the wrinkles by your collar carefully and slings the strap of your bag over his shoulder without a word. It’s always these things, the little things, that leave you speechless.

The drive was pleasant. Mark put on your favorite radio channel and the two of you vibed comfortably to the acoustic music, the only interruptions were your quiet directions to the desired destination. You examined Mark’s face as he focused on the road, tipping his head back and forth to the beat with one hand on the wheel. It was dark, but the passing street lights illuminated his features in mesmerizing flashes, almost as if they were afraid to show his face for too long, the beauty would be too much to handle. His cheekbones were especially accentuated by the small smile on his lips. Looking at him made you feel… calm.

You pulled into the familiar parking lot. The blue neon lights above the building reading “Skate City” buzzed with electricity as the two of you got out of the car. 

“You wanted to come here? To a kid’s roller rink?”. Mark chuckled as he shut the driver side door. 

“Make fun of me now but you’ll see why” you rolled your eyes, walking through the building door which Mark held open for you.

The interior of the building was just like you remembered: the dark, ragged carpet was covered in colorful squiggles and dots resembling an abstract representation of worms and confetti. If that wasn’t bad enough, the matching wallpaper and UV lights topped off the hallucinogenic nightmare of a roller rink. Usually, it was also filled with the screams of children. Due to the lateness in the day, the rink was empty and usual disco funk was turned off. You would think it was closed if it weren’t for the man watching TV behind the counter.

“Mr. Joseph,” you call out with a wave. The man grunted, pulling his feet from off of the counter and shuffling through the mess of papers to find his glasses. He was an unassuming man in about his early forties, balding, pot-bellied, and proud. Nobody would guess that he was the man who taught you to skate all those years ago.

“Why, is that Miss y/n?,” Mr. Joseph exclaimed, rounding the counter to hug you.

“How have you been, Joe?”

“Well, you know me. I’m gettin’ by. Who’s this fella over here?”. Joe adjusted his specs and squinted at Mark.

“This,” you nudge the shy boy forward slightly, “is my friend, Mark. Mark, this is my family friend and former coach, Mr. Joseph. Also known as Joe,” you introduce.

The two men exchange a firm handshake.

“Nice meeting you, Mark. You treating her right?” Joe narrowed his eyes.

“Um so,” you cough, saving Mark from the awkward question, “Joe, we need skates for Mark”. 

“Wait but I already have skates, y/n-,” 

“No, you have hockey skates, Mark. You’re gonna need proper figure skates if we’re gonna do this competition right,” you explain. 

“Competition, huh,” Joe gruffed, waddling into the back room and motioning for you to follow. 

“Yeah, I don’t know if my parents told you, but Yuna was in an accident and now she can’t do the pair skate with me. Mark’s a hockey player but,” you glance at him with a smile, “he offered to pick up some skills and be my partner”.

“Here,” Joe smacked a pair of skates into Mark’s arms, “try these, boy”.

“Thank you, sir”. Mark bowed and went out to the bench to try them on.

Once he was out of sight, Joe leaned down to you, “you like this boy?”.

“Stop!,” you cry, covering your reddening ears with your hands.

“I’m just saying,” Joe held up his hands innocently, “I can tell he likes you by the way he looks at you. Even from meeting him just now”.

“Yeah… I just,” you stop to think about it. Well it’s true he likes you...

Do you like him?

You look to the door where you could see his shadow lacing up the new skates. You wish he would hurry back. Being without him felt like something was missing. Even if he was right around the corner, it didn’t feel good that you couldn’t see him and feel his reassuring presence. Realization began creeping in and you turn to look back at Joe’s I-told-you-so expression. He gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Make sure he’s good to you”.

Mark’s figure reappeared at the doorway, oblivious to your pounding heart and emotions which were becoming slowly more apparent. You watch endearingly as he stepped awkwardly into the room wearing the skates, stretching out his arms to maintain his balance. 

“I think they fit!,” Mark beamed at you, causing the butterflies in your stomach to migrate all around. 

“That’s good, boy. Take them on the house,” Joe guided him back out to take them off before he could hurt himself. 

“Oh no, sir-”

“Please, they were collecting dust in that storage room. Nobody wants men’s figure skates anymore these days and I’m glad to help y/n out” Joe dismissed. 

“Joe,” you stop him, wrapping your arms around Joe’s neck to give him a big hug, “thank you,” you whisper. 

“Of course, kiddo” he pat your back, “you make me proud”.

After chatting for a bit longer, you bid your goodbyes to Joe as he locked up Skate City for the night. In the car, you hold your breath and turn towards Mark. Strangely, your head was in the clouds as you examined his face, a face you’ve grown so familiar with in the past few weeks, yet seemed brand new. Suddenly, he leaned in close, close enough to count his pretty eyelashes, warranting your breath to hitch in your throat. Unaware of your, Mark places the box of skates in the backseat and sits up straight again to buckle his seatbelt. You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Right, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself.

“So, are you tired or do you wanna do some skating today?,” you finally ask.

Mark flashed you a crooked smile, starting the car, “Y/n, I’m always down for you. School rink?”.

You nod. 

The whole drive back to the school was noticeably more awkward, at least to you. You tensed  at every word he said and felt your heart clench when he hummed along to the soft radio tune. Saying nothing or giving short, one word replies, you didn’t trust your voice to say more. Instead, you opted to look out the window at the passing scenery for the fear of Mark noticing your flushed expression. You tug uncomfortably at your jacket collar, beginning to regret asking him to skate tonight. Ironically, and perhaps foolishly of you, you’ve received his confession yet you’re unwilling to admit the good news of mutual feelings to yourself. What should you do or say? Surely it’s not right to just say ‘I like you! I figured it out haha let’s date!” out of the blue. 

Pulling into the sports center parking lot, you notice the locks on the front door.

“Oh crap, I forgot it’s a weekday. The rink is closed after 11,” you mutter, slightly relieved at the thought of heading home to sort out your feelings alone. 

“Don’t worry, we can sneak in through the side door,” Mark answers nonchalantly, getting out to open the car door for you. You don’t disregard the kind gesture and instead feel the familiar pressure in your chest again. 

And sneak in you did. 

Mark had clearly done this a few times judging based on the way he led you confidently to the obscured side door which was propped slightly open with a rock.

You went your separate ways in the eerily empty stadium to your respective locker rooms. Splashing your face with cool water, you attempt to rein in your fiery flush. 

How should I bring it up? Or do I wait? He already said he likes me, but what if he didn’t mean it? 

After changing into your skates, you take a deep breath and head out to the ice.

He was already there waiting for you by the railing. Mark must have heard your footsteps approaching and he turned to give you a warm smile. 

“You’re right, y/n, these skates are kinda different”. He tapped the toe pick into the padded floor.

“Yeah… right,” you mumbled, struggling to meet his bright eyes. 

He’s so cute.

Pale moonlight streamed through the glass ceiling panels and illuminated your surroundings. Mark’s hair made his face glow silver and his eyes sparkled with the reflection of the moon. His face fell at your weak response, reading it as disinterest.

You open the gate and skate out onto the ice in front of him. Mark tentatively skated out to follow you, wobbling slightly at the different sensation. You reach out to grab his arms and steady him, meeting his gaze briefly before blinking away. You loosen your grip on his sleeves, the contact making your feelings go wild.

For a few moments, the two of you silently glided across the ice. For the first time ever, it seems, you weren’t sure what to say to him.

“Listen,” Mark finally spoke, struggling to a stop. He looked down at his skates thoughtfully, “If it’s about what I said earlier, if it’s about me liking you and that made you uncomfortable, I- I take it back. I feel like I didn’t give you a chance to say no if you wanted to-”

“No it’s-,” you interrupt, skating slightly ahead, “It’s not that”. 

“Then why are you acting so strange?,” Mark asked, struggling to keep up.

“I just,” you circle to a stop at the middle of the rink. How do you even begin to explain how you feel? Never in your life have you felt like this about anybody. Never in your life have you felt so special and so cared for than when you were with Mark. You would have been lucky enough just being able to know him, but he even likes you. Out of all of the people he could have chosen, he chose you.

Mark careened to a halt behind you, waiting for you to finish. You take a deep breath.

Now or never.

You turn around to face him. 

“What you told me in the diner, tell it to me again”. Your voice came out weaker than you had intended.

Mark’s eyebrows were furrowed in confusion and worry that you were upset with him. He wanted to pull you into a hug, tuck that piece of hair back behind your ear and tell you it’s okay if you didn’t love him back.

“I-,” Mark cleared his throat from his emotions, “I said that I like you, y/n. I like you as more than friends”. He looked down towards his feet but before he could blink, he was crushed in between your arms as you jumped to hug him. Your face fit perfectly into the crook of his neck and you breathed in his familiar, warm scent as he wrapped his arms delicately around your waist. The force from your impact caused both of you to drift slightly, but you kept steady. Not brave enough to look him in the face, you whisper your confession to his ear.

“I’m ready to answer you. I… I like you too. As more than friends”

Mark’s grip tightened around your waist as he lifted you slightly off the ice. Spinning around, he curled his fingers into the fabric of your sweatshirt as if he never wanted to let you go. Your heart swelled at the feeling as you held onto his sturdy shoulders. Neither of you needed to say anything more. He pulled you close so there was no space left and you listened to the gentle rhythm of his heart beating for you.

Pulling away at last, you rest your forehead against his. Your eyes fluttered closed but you could feel the tip of his nose brush gently across yours, his warm exhalation fanning across your lips. 

“You don’t happen to have your phone on you, do you?” Mark mumbled deeply, savoring the moment.

You let out a small giggle, “no, do you?”.

“Nope”

And with that, you tilted your head up ever so slightly and Mark cupped your cheek to bring your lips together. You melt into his kiss and touch, allowing the way his soft lips moved against yours to express his silent affections. Exhaling through your nose, you sigh into the kiss, moving your hand to rest at the back of his head to pull him in deeper.

Finally.

Mark ran his thumb affectionately across your cheek, his lips speaking of all the times he’s wanted to do this. Your fingers lace their way through his soft hair, loving the way he reacts as you tug against the strands slightly. 

A loud bang from a closing door causes you to pull apart finally. The bright beam of the security guard’s flashlight flashes across the ice as the two of you look on like deer caught in headlights. 

“Hey, you two! Get out of there!,” the guard shouted, pointing a finger at your embracing form.

“Run!,” you whisper yell, pulling him quickly towards the gate. The two of you run as quickly as you can in your skates, pulling them off before you enter the hallway. 

“Hey! Stop right there!,” the guard yelled, stumbling down the stadium stairs.

“Quick! In here!” Mark tugged you into the boys locker room, shutting the door before the guard could see and ushering you quickly to hide in the gap between two lockers. You squeezed in with him, panting softly as the adrenaline pumped through your body. Mark’s arms wrap around your body to pull you closer as the guard opens the door. The flashlight flicked menacingly across the dark room. You hold your breath as it comes particularly close. Finally, seconds that feel like hours pass and the security guard grunts before deciding to move on. You exhale in relief. 

Mark rests his chin on top of your head and you realize how closely you’re pressed together. You giggle into his chest, loving how warm he felt. 

“I can’t believe that I get to hold you,” Mark whispers. His fingers draw invisible shapes across your back.

You nuzzle your face into his tee shirt. “Well I can’t believe we’re doing this in the boy’s locker room after being chased down by security,” you mumble against the fabric. His chest sounded a low vibration as he chuckled back, moving his hand up to stroke your hair. 

“You are so, so beautiful, y/n,” he moves to kiss the top of your head, “I don’t know the words to express how beautiful you are to me”. 

You press deeper into his body at the words you’ve always wanted to hear. Lifting your face up from his chest, you press a small kiss to his lips, heart jumping at the still-new sensation. It was sweet, his lips ghosting over yours breathlessly as you nestle your nose gently against his in a slow eskimo kiss. 

“I’ve liked you for so long,” Mark whispers in between kisses, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long”.

You answer by gripping the fabric of his collar to pull him in deeper, moving your lips rhythmically against his. 

“I think I’ve liked you for a while too,” you admit as you catch your breath, “I just didn’t understand it. Or some part of me wasn’t ready to admit it”.

“That makes sense” Mark rests his forehead on yours, smiling, “I would have waited a thousand years if that’s what you needed”.

Again and again, he captivated you with his words. He was so good to you and never made you feel like you were anything less than perfect. Day after day, his patience with you never faded and slowly, you let him break down your walls. His comforting smile and optimism always filled you with reassurance and peace. 

So standing there, making out in the boy’s locker room, illegally, in the dead of night on a Tuesday, you became sure. You were sure that you wanted him in your life. You were sure you wanted to try to be a part of his. As you pressed your lips to his and as he ran his fingers through your hair, there was no turning back.

previous || m.list || next

[whenisitenoughtrees]

look me up and define me (please remind me) (part 1/2)

He is whatever puts Thomas first. But that changes so often that he doesn’t know what he is beyond that.

He is Janus when he is alone, but only when he is not someone else.

Janus has never minded the fact that his identity is fluid, ever-changing. He acts as whoever Thomas needs him to be in the moment, and if that means he doesn't know much about himself as an individual, well. It's never been a problem for him.

Until he gives away his name, and then it very much is.

Chapter Warnings: identity issues, non-graphic panic attack, references to self-harm

Chapter Word Count: 4,493

Pairings: platonic TDLAMPR, implied Moceit (though you don’t have to read into it)

Notes: This fic started as a oneshot but ended up being more than 10k, so I’m dividing it into two parts, the second of which will hopefully be posted Friday. Also, this fic as a whole was inspired by the awesome ‘The Record Player Song’ animatic by @turbovickii, which, 10/10 would recommend if you haven’t seen it

Chapter one podfic by @titheinironside

(part 2)

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

Janus isn’t his name.

Or rather, it isn’t, and it is. He’s never had to think too hard about it before, has never had to struggle for the words to put it all into context. Janus is his name, yes, the name he chose for himself back when Thomas was young and they were all bright-eyed, foolish children, and his preferred moniker wasn’t Deceit but rather something entirely different.

Janus. Roman god of beginnings and of ends, of transitions, of doorways, of passages that lead on and on. God of time, and god of duality. He thought it a fitting descriptor for himself; he is sweet lies, lies that soothe and lies that heal, and he is bitter truths, truths that no one wants to hear, that he must keep to himself lest they do more harm than any lie could. If that is not duality, he doesn’t know what is.

But he is, at his core, whatever Thomas needs him to be. He is fluid in a way that the others are not, able to shift and change depending on the day, depending on what Thomas requires of him at any given moment. He is Thomas’ ability to lie, but only when it benefits him; when a truth would do the most good, he suggests that, instead. He wants Thomas to succeed, to do whatever it takes to better himself, to pursue his ambitions, but only until he pushes himself too far, works himself into exhaustion or questions himself too much. Then, he is the voice that tells him to relax, to take time for himself, to put his health above his goals.

He is whatever puts Thomas first. But that changes so often that he doesn’t know what he is beyond that.

He plays the part of the others, too, whenever it is necessary. They are used to it by now, so used to it that by the time he reveals himself to Thomas, they react with anger rather than surprise or alarm. But what they do not know is that for every time they catch him out, there are five more times he goes undetected, slipping in amongst them, a snake in the grass. He mediates arguments as Morality when the real Patton is nowhere to be found, uses Logic to pull them down to earth when Logan is too buried in his books and theories to realize there’s an emotional problem, uses Creativity’s bravado to advocate for Thomas’ dreams when Roman is busy dreaming himself.

He keeps the mindscape running smoothly. And when he is not one of them, when he wears his default skin, scales and all, he is known to them as Deceit. Nothing more, nothing less. A convenient villain, uniting them all in their distaste. It makes him sick, sometimes, their naivety, the knowledge that without him here, they would run Thomas into the ground all while professing their love for him. But he swallows it down, hides it within himself with all the other truths he hoards, and he carries on another day.

He is Janus when he is alone.

But even that is not true, not really. He is Janus in the snatched moments he has for himself, when there is no pressing crisis, nothing for Thomas to be doing or saying or making, when he can sit alone in his room with the jukebox crooning soft melodies. He is Janus, but only sometimes, because even alone, he draws on the traits of the others. Logan, when he needs a clearer perspective; Roman, when he needs an ego boost; Virgil, to indulge in his worries; Remus, to indulge in darker thoughts; Patton, when he is feeling weak and lonely and wanting, when he wraps his arms around himself and wants to pretend that he does not stand in solitude.

He is Janus when he is alone, but only when he is not someone else.

The Roman god Janus has two faces, one to look to the past and the other to the future. None to look to the present, and that is how he feels, most days, like there is none of him-as-Janus present at all, like every face that he wears is a false one, and his namesake has only two but he has far more than that.

He’s not sure he even knows who Janus is, besides the name, what he likes and what he dislikes, how he feels and how he acts when there is no pressure on him to keep Thomas well. He likes chess and philosophy, but he only ever plays as Logan, only uses that knowledge when he’s wearing the necktie and glasses, because otherwise he can’t get anyone else to listen. He dislikes surprises and stupidity and the ever-present knowledge that nothing in Thomas’ life is guaranteed, due to a society that actively works against most of its members, but are those his concerns or Virgil’s? He only indulges in stronger emotions when he takes Patton’s form, so who’s to say that the feelings are Janus’ at all?

And he almost never gets to act when there is no pressure on him to keep Thomas well. That pressure is always there, has always been there. Without it, who would he be?

In the end, Janus is just a name. Whether it’s his or not is difficult to say. And that has never been a problem for him; he exists to benefit Thomas, after all. He doesn’t feel the need for a solid identity beyond that, not like the others do. He only picks a name in the first place because everyone else does, because Creativity-that-is-Remus needs someone he can look up to, because Anxiety-that-becomes-Virgil needs to know that not everyone is out to get him. It’s a display of trust, in a way, but trust only leads to disaster, to angry two-toned words and pounding footsteps and a blank space in the wall where his best friend once lived, so really, what is the point?

Janus is his name. But he’s not particularly attached to it, and he’s content to leave it there.

But then, there is the callback, and the wedding. But then, he fights for Thomas’ desires harder than he has ever fought before, and when that turns sour, he returns to fight for Thomas’ failing mental health. He does so as Logan, and as Deceit when Logan’s form no longer suits the goal, and he’s not expecting them to listen but he still tries.

But then, everything changes.

But then, Thomas says, I don’t know that we are, and he believes for a moment that he is imagining all of this, that he has slipped into Roman’s face and has allowed a daydream to get just a bit out of hand, because to hear those words out of Thomas’ mouth is something he has fantasized about for so long.

But then, he has a chance at acceptance, a chance to change it all so that he no longer has to struggle to make his voice heard, a chance that all depends on using the right words at this exact moment, and in the split second before he begins to tug his glove from his hand, he panics. Because he is Deceit right now, and the amount of sincerity that he has allowed to spill from his lips has already been taxing. What else can he possibly say to earn their consideration, to earn a place among them?

And then he remembers the importance they place on names. From there, the decision is practically made for him.

He says the words as if on autopilot, an odd mixture of nervous and numb, and he has to check to make sure he has not accidentally shifted into Virgil’s hoodie rather than Deceit’s capelet as his fear thrums though him. Roman laughs, and he lashes out in return, though more due to offense at the idea that the name is stupid rather than because of a personal connection to it.

When Patton says it back to him, he can’t stop himself from flinching, just a bit, can’t stop the widening of his eyes, the stilling of every muscle. He should be glad, he thinks, because this shows that Patton, at least, is willing to give him a chance, is willing to let him in just a little. But all he can feel is a pervasive sense of wrongness, because he isn’t supposed to be Janus here. Here, he is Deceit, is acting as Deceit. Janus is for isolated, personal moments, and for the life of him, he cannot change that, cannot draw out what little he knows of Janus while there are others here, while Thomas is here.

It’s all wrong. And it only gets worse.

Patton wants to spend time with him, after that. Mostly, he’s glad to accept, is glad of the opportunity to endear himself, to cultivate a relationship that once would have been impossible. Patton invites him to bake, to watch movies, to play games, even to debate morality with him, and he does, and he finds himself enjoying both the activities and the company. But every so often, he catches himself, happiness curdling and souring, because these are all things he enjoys when he is Patton, when he is filling in the cracks that form in Morality’s absence. He has never done any of this as Janus, and every time Patton calls him by the name, he feels dirty, feels like the worst kind of imposter, because in these moments, he doesn’t feel as though he is acting as Janus so much as acting like a reflection of Patton himself, and if Patton knew that, knew that the person he thought he was befriending barely exists at all, he would be devastated.

For some reason, he thinks he would do just about anything to avoid that. For the sake of Thomas’ mental health, surely, and not because he cares about Patton as an individual. To do that would be to open a door that he wouldn’t know how to close. Better to leave it shut and locked, and to ignore the fact that the knob is already turning.

“You okay there, kiddo?” Patton asks him. “You seem a little distracted.”

He manages a smile, and he knows it comes off well, because that is what he is practiced in. “Perfectly fine,” he says. “Sorry about that.” He sniffs the air. “This batch definitely won’t burn if you leave it in any longer.”

And Patton gasps and bustles around, pulling the cookies from the oven, the redirection working perfectly.

Leave it shut and locked? Please. The door is open, he thinks. Perhaps it would be a disservice to both of them to pretend otherwise. Because he finds himself almost unbearably fond of Patton, these days, and guilty for feeling so. As soon as he has a moment alone, he has to shift into Patton’s form to get his emotions under control, to abate the itching tightness of his skin. Deceit isn’t made for these pleasant interactions, and Janus is about as tangible as mist, but he can hardly be Patton in front of Patton, so he wears a mask of scales and speaks past the acid burning in his throat.

The smart thing to do would be to stop. To retreat, to cut off these developing ties before they can do him any more harm. But for all the cognitive dissonance this is causing him, he doesn’t want to lose Patton’s friendship, his smiles and warmth. He’s not sure how he used to live without it.

The door is open so wide that it might as well be hanging off its hinges.

He can grin and bear it when it’s just Patton. For a while, it seems as though it will remain that way. Roman, at least, doesn’t want to see him, and when Virgil isn’t avoiding him, their interactions are far from cordial. And when he is tired, he can sink back into the dark side of the mindscape where Remus awaits him, and Remus, at least, has never expected him to be anything that he is not. He never calls him by his name, either, instead blurting out whatever obscene nickname pops into his head in the moment.

He has never been so glad of that.

But then, Logan invites him to play a game of chess, and for a full three minutes, he is overjoyed, because he loves to play chess, and Logan is the only one who could possibly give him a challenge, and the fact that Logan voluntarily wants to spend time with him is nothing short of amazing. The euphoria lasts until the board is set and they are facing each other, and he catches himself just before shapeshifting into Logan’s form. And he remembers: he has only ever played chess as Logan, learned to play in the first place so as to better imitate Logan. He has played against everyone in the mindscape but Logan at one point or another, providing a distraction and logical advice when Logan himself was unavailable, and none of them were any the wiser as to just who commanded the opposing set of pieces.

Except Remus, but he just thought it was funny.

It is all he can do to focus on the game. All he can do to put up a decent showing, though he loses. All he can do to prevent himself from mirroring Logan’s mannerisms by mistake, out of habit.

He doesn’t know how to do this as Janus. His face is frozen, but his hands are fidgeting, seeking release. Normally, he would copy Logan’s calm, his professionalism, but he can’t do that when Logan is sitting right across from him, sure to notice anything odd or out of place.

“It was a good game, Janus,” Logan says when they are done, and he wants to scream, because Janus doesn’t belong here either, doesn’t belong sitting by a chessboard. That has always been Logan’s place, and it disturbs him somewhere deep inside to be playing Logan’s game, wearing Deceit’s face, being called Janus. So much so that once the game is completed, he retreats to his room and stays there for a week, refusing to answer the door.

It should help. He is not Janus often, but when he is, it is here, in the sanctuary of his own room, his own bed.

It doesn’t help. If anything, it unsettles him even more, because the lines that hold his identities apart have been blurred so far that he spends the entire week uncomfortable in his skin, unsure of who he’s trying to be at any given moment. He shifts into the others, stares at their reflections in the mirror, but that doesn’t make things any better.

He needs help. He has to admit that, at this point. And there’s only one other he can think of to go to, only one other who might have experienced anything close to this tailspin.

He knocks on Virgil’s door.

Virgil opens it promptly enough, though his expression morphs from neutral to pissed off immediately upon seeing him. “Fuck off,” he snaps, and slams the door shut in his face.

He knocks again. And when he gets no reply, he keeps knocking, knocking and knocking and knocking.

“Don’t worry, I definitely couldn’t do this all day,” he calls airily, and Virgil jerks the door open again, face now firmly set in incandescent rage.

“What the fuck do you want?” he spits, all nerves and anger, all fight and no flight at all.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks.

Virgil stares at him, wordless, eyes narrow. And then, he holds the door open, allowing him to step inside.

“Make it quick,” he bites out, closing the door behind him. “What the hell do you think you and I have to discuss?”

He raises an eyebrow at that, because really? They have everything to discuss, and the longer they put it off, the more difficult it will be to start. Their relationship as it stands now is untenable; left to rot much longer, and it will begin to actively harm Thomas, which is something he absolutely cannot allow.

But that is not what he is here for.

“For both of our sakes, I won’t answer that,” he says. “I just have a question for you.”

Virgil glares. In his hoodie sleeves, his hands are balled into shaking fists. It hurts in an odd sort of way, to see how much he hates him. “Then ask it and leave,” he says, his voice threaded with trepidation. He already knows that he won’t like what he hears.

Well. That makes two of them. He knows he isn’t going to like asking this question.

“After you first told the others your name,” he says, “how long did it take for you to like hearing it?”

He has the dubious pleasure of seeing shock, pure and unfiltered, pass across Virgil’s face.

“How long--” Virgil starts. “What are you even--? I don’t know, I've never thought about it. I… I never disliked hearing it. I mean, I told them in the first place because I trusted them.” A barb, though not an undeserved one. “It was weird, but I wouldn't have told them if I didn’t want them to know it. Why are you asking me that?”

It’s exactly the answer he didn’t want. He knew that Virgil wouldn’t understand what he is going through, that Virgil, at his core, is exactly what and who he appears to be, unlike him. But he hoped that there would have been an adjustment period, at least, that there was a time when Virgil, so used to being called by his function, deemed the monster under the bed, would have found it disturbing or at least unnerving to be named so casually.

“Absolutely no reason at all,” he says, and turns back to the door. “Thank you for your time.”

“Nuh-uh.” Virgil catches him by the arm, and he freezes. “You’re not leaving.”

He breathes out slowly, tries not to show his growing fear. The effects of Virgil’s room are beginning to take root, but in his heart of hearts, he knows that’s not the only reason for the erratic pounding of his pulse.

“Oh?” he says, and fights to keep the tremor from his voice. “I thought you wanted me to ask and leave? Do continue with the indecision, it never ceases to delight me.”

“No,” Virgil says, voice hard. “You don’t get to do that. Not until you tell me what the hell you’re talking about.”

He should never have come here. He draws on Deceit like a cloak, like armor to protect him, armor woven of sarcasm and misdirection and misplaced confidence. Be what he expects, and he will never see anything different; that is a lesson he learned years ago. But the persona is shaky, muted by his confusion and by the bleed-through of every other guise he’s ever adopted. To give ground in front of Virgil is like diving into shark-infested waters with an open wound, but the smoothness he seeks to emulate slips through his grasp.

“It’s a question I need answered,” he says. “No more than that.”

“Bullshit.” Virgil tugs on his arm, and despite himself, he turns his head to face him. There is something odd flickering behind the irritation in Virgil’s eyes, something strange in the tilt of his head that he cannot place. It puts him ill at ease; to be unable to read Virgil is inviting danger, especially in Virgil’s own territory. “If you don’t like them saying your name, then why did you tell them?”

Caught.

He can feel all the blood draining from his face. His vision tunnels, focusing on Virgil’s face, on the expression that is anger and something that cannot possibly be concern, because they burned their bridges far too thoroughly for that. His head throbs, his breathing hitching, and he knows that he needs to leave, now, before he spirals further, because showing weakness in front of another is reprehensible but far, far worse if that someone is Virgil--

“Janus!” Virgil says, alarm threading through his voice, and that is absolutely the last straw. He rips his arm from Virgil’s grasp and sinks directly out, falling through the mindscape until he is in his own room, gasping for breath. His pulse races, his heartbeat roaring in his ears, and when he turns to look in the mirror, he finds that he has wrapped himself in Virgil’s form as his fears threaten to overwhelm him, hoodie and eyeshadow and all.

He curls up on the floor and tries to remember how to breathe.

It takes a long time for him to calm himself, and when he manages to look up again, it is Patton staring back at him. He likes being Patton, likes it more than being any of the others, because Patton is warm and soft and for all his flaws, fundamentally good in a way that used to repulse him but no longer does. Being Patton feels like the closest thing to a hug that he will ever get.

He forces himself to shift again, forces himself into Deceit before stumbling from his room and into the commons. Remus is laying on the couch, half-naked, watching some gory anime and eating ice cream straight out of the carton. He pauses for a moment, watching him, taking comfort in the familiarity; everything changes, but Remus, at least, is a constant, like the north star if the north star showed its love by threatening violence at random intervals. For the briefest of seconds, he shifts into Remus and then back to Deceit again, and for once, feels steady.

Remus takes notice of him eventually, sitting up and baring his teeth in a grin.

“How’d it go with Virgey?” he asks.

He decides not to question how he knew where he was.

“Right, because I want to talk about it,” he grumbles. “Can’t you tell?” He strides over to the couch, keeping as much dignity intact as possible as he shoves at Remus’ legs until he moves them, providing room for him to sit. “What are we watching?”

“Parasyte,” Remus offers, but there is an odd tone in his voice. When he looks, he sees that Remus is watching him now, rather than the screen, and something in the strangely level gaze is discomfiting.

“What?” he snaps.

“Nothing,” Remus says, raising his hands. “Just, are you good? I mean, we can switch it to something you wanna watch, if you want. Like, uh, that one show where everyone’s dead? You like that one, right?”

“The Good Place,” he mutters. “No, that’s alright. You’d be bored to tears.”

Remus frowns, but doesn’t respond. It takes another full episode-- he thinks; they must be in the middle of the plot, because he has absolutely no idea what’s going on-- for him to speak again, which is strange in and of itself. A quiet Remus never bodes well, because a quiet Remus means that either he is hurting, or he is seriously contemplating hurting someone else. No jokes, no disgusting gags, just a desire to inflict pain for pain’s sake. It doesn’t happen often, but it is never pleasant when it does. All too often, it is Remus himself who becomes the victim of these tendencies, Remus who tears into his own flesh rather than harming another.

But then, the silence is broken, and he almost wishes that it weren’t.

“If something was wrong, you’d tell me, right, Dee?” Remus asks, and he swallows, hard.

“Of course,” he lies, and of course it is a lie, a lie hissed out between his teeth, because there is nothing that Remus can do about this, so what would be the point in telling him about it? Remus cares, even if he shows it in odd ways, and it would only hurt him to be presented with a problem that he can do nothing to solve.

“Good,” Remus says, settling back in. “‘Cause you know, if anybody was hurting you, I’d smash their skull in. Like a watermelon. Bits going everywhere. Hey, have you ever seen those videos of people crushing watermelons with their thighs? Do you think I could get someone to do that to my skull?” He shoves a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, speaking around it. “I bet it’d be real juicy.”

“I bet,” he murmurs. He doesn’t have the energy to respond further.

What is he supposed to say? He has no doubt that he could set Remus on any of the others easily; all it would take is a sentence, a white lie, and perhaps not even that. Oh, so-and-so was a dick to me, Remus, don’t you think they would like to be introduced to your mace? Remus would jump at the chance for a bit of sanctioned mayhem.

But no one is hurting him but himself. He wonders what Remus would do if he told him that. Could he get Remus to bash his head in, to hit him until whatever is broken in his brain comes loose? Or until he can’t feel anything at all anymore, and wouldn’t that just solve every one of his problems? No more confusion, no more angst, no more churning in his stomach whenever someone calls him by a name or a label that feels no more like his than any other.

The idea is more attractive than it should be.

He excuses himself not too much later, and Remus’ eyes bore into his back as he returns to his room, telling himself that it’s a strategic retreat, that he’s not running away.

He knows it for the lie it is, little though he wants to admit it to himself. And as he stands there in the center of his room, trying to decide whether it is worth it to continue with the day or if he should go to bed now, avoid the world for a little longer, his reflection in the mirror catches his eye, and he turns to stare at it. A face stares back, and he supposes that the face must be his, but he doesn’t feel like it. It looks as though it is mocking him, taunting him with his unreality.

He shudders and turns away, but the name rings in his head. Janus Janus Janus. A person he should know but that he can no longer find, even here. Once his room was a safe haven, but now it feels like a prison, trapping him between identities that he no longer knows how to escape.

He has his back to the mirror, but the reflection is still there, he knows, and a shiver creeps down his spine, filling him with something like anger and something like fear.

He turns off the lights.

Writing Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones

[baoshan-sanren]

Chapter 39

of the wwx emperor au I’m thinking of calling Fuck the Canon: Happy Endings For Everyone

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Part 1 | Chapter 8 Part 2 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 Part 1 | Chapter 15 Part 2 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 Part 1 | Chapter 22 Part 2 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34 | Chapter 35 | Chapter 36 | Chapter 37 | Chapter 38

The meeting concludes in a way that is more than satisfactory to the Emperor, if not so satisfactory to the rest of the Council.

Jiang FengMian is to retain his title of High Councilor, but only to soften the blow of the abrupt transition of power. A period of five years has been determined as sufficient for this task. Uncle Jiang will use those years to guide his replacement in the court intricacies and details of his responsibilities, which will ensure full transparency in this particular shift of power.  

The choice of the next High Councilor had been the bloodiest battle of the day, one that had drawn the meeting to a standstill for hours. Wei Ying would not budge from his choice however, and once fully aware of his intentions, uncle Jiang had given his firm and unquestionable support. With uncle XingChen’s help, they had wrangled the Council into submission, skillfully enough where Wei Ying had felt guilty, all over again, for nearly causing uncle Jiang to qi deviate that very morning.

Shijie will make an excellent High Councilor. Behind her gentle voice and agreeable manner, there is strength of conviction that the Sect Leaders will find as unyielding as a rocky mountain side. Wei Ying cannot wait to see her turn all that sweet charm and strength of will against Sect Leader Yao, or any of the other men long accustomed to Jiang FengMian’s flexibility. Wei Ying may actually start attending Sect Leader meetings regularly, just for entertainment’s sake.

With the High Councilor being forced into retirement within five years, and the Council itself on the verge of dissolving, the question of the Emperor’s marriage to a Second Young Master of a disgraced Sect is no longer as grave as it would have appeared under less serious circumstances. It was immediately apparent which Sect Leaders had spent their morning in close talks with the Royal Companion. These men, fidgeting and nervous, had voiced their support for the marriage before Wei Ying could even fully voice his intentions.

He had never felt the need to ask A-Sang what particular leverage he has over certain sect leaders, or how he had come to obtain it. A-Sang has always been eerily skilled at ferreting out their secrets and honing in on their weaknesses. The information A-Sang has on them must be significant, because they would not be influenced to withdraw their support, regardless of the pressure from the other Council members.

Wei Ying is allowed to marry anyone he chooses, Lan Zhan included.

It is a good day, and he feels immeasurably happy leaving the council hall, watching the Sect Leaders drift away in a daze, as if physically beaten into submission. He had promised Lan Zhan that he would give him time to speak with his uncle, to speak with his brother, to consult with the Lan Sect Elders. He had promised as much time as Lan Zhan wants or needs. Still, it is a struggle not to immediately seek him out and make the proposal again, properly this time, with all the pomp and ceremony.

He will not. He will be patient. But.

Someone should inform Lan Zhan that the Council has reached a favorable decision. This is not information that Lan Zhan should obtain second-hand, through gossip and idle chatter. Wei Ying will not pressure him, but informing him that the Council had given its unanimous approval would be the proper, respectful thing to do. It is nowhere near the thing Wei Ying actually wants to do, which is to fall to his knees and latch on to Lan Zhan’s ankles and beg him to agree to the marriage now.

Perhaps if he only strolled by the Imperial guest chambers. Casually. And happened to catch the sight of Lan Zhan, perhaps he could--

“Wei WuXian!”

The shout echoes against the high ceiling, rebounding down the hallway with force.

There is only one person who would dare shout his name in the Jade Sword Palace, and that person is currently waiting for him at the South Lakes Pavilion. Also, A-Cheng rarely disrespects him in public, unless Wei Ying has done something truly obnoxious.

He turns to find Jin ZiXuan striding down the hallway, his sword drawn, his face red and furious.

Uh-oh Wei Ying thinks.

He had forgotten all about him.

“Wei WuXian!! How dare you!?”

His voice is nearly obliterated by the sound of blades being drawn all around them, both Imperial Guards and the Jiang Sect forming a wall in front of Wei Ying. Jin GuangShan, who is not the member of the Council, and yet, is always somehow found hovering in the vicinity of every Council meeting, throws himself in front of Jin ZiXuan.

Wei Ying has never before seen Jin GuangShan look visibly terrified; it is not nearly as amusing as he had expected it to be.  

“What are you standing there for?” he snaps at the four disciples following behind Jin ZiXuan, all four clearly distraught, “Grab him.”

Jin ZiXuan wheels on the four disciples, sword at the ready, as if daring them to try.

“Please forgive my son, Your Majesty,” Jin GuangShan exclaims, “He has been ill lately, and speaking nonsense. We have had him confined for his own safety. I will take him back immediately. ZiXuan, your mother must be worried to death! Let us go back.”

Jin ZiXuan is practically vibrating. Wei Ying has never seen the Young Master of the Jin Sect this overwrought; he would not have thought it possible.

The dignified, puffed-up peacock is acting like an absolute madman. It is fascinating to watch. Wei Ying wishes A-Sang was here to see it for himself.

“I demand an account of the Emperor!” the youth shouts, “I demand to know why my betrothal was dissolved! I have the right to know!”

“You have a right to nothing!” Jin GuangShan shouts in his face, his beard quivering in agitation, “It is not on you to question the Emperor! Your Majesty,” he turns to Wei Ying, his smile sickly, “As you can see, he is not well. Please do not listen to anything he says. This illness is a personal matter, one that will be resolved quickly.”

“I am not ill!” Jin ZiXuan shakes off his father’s insistent grip to point his sword at Wei Ying, as if unaware of the three dozen swords that point at him in turn, “I demand an answer!”

Wei Ying does not have an answer, at least not an answer that would satisfy Jin ZiXuan. The dissolution of the engagement was nothing more than a power move in a game he had intended to win at any cost.

Shijie knows that Wei Ying will eventually allow the marriage to take place. He would never deny her happiness for his own gain, even if he cannot possibly comprehend what happiness can be gained from marrying into the Jin Sect.

But Jin ZiXuan does not know that the dissolution of his betrothal is not a permanent measure. And apparently, he feels quite strongly about this, a revelation that is somehow both satisfactory and annoying.

“Your Majesty,” Jiang FengMian says, “I do believe that Jin ZiXuan must be seriously ill. Otherwise, he would never act like this. Please allow Sect Leader Jin to take his son back. We will summon the Head Healer immediately.”

Jin ZiXuan looks as if he may stab the next person who suggests that he is ill.

“Nonsense,” Sect Leader Yao exclaims, just when his opinion is least wanted or needed, “No illness excuses such disrespect. Any man who speaks to the Emperor in this way should be accused of inciting rebellion, and his life be made forfeit.”

Jin GuangShan looks horrified. Jiang FengMain grimaces into his beard.

Wei Ying does not want to laugh, but it is incredibly difficult to keep a straight face. Sect Leader Yao, who would slander his own mother if it gained him favor, accusing someone else of disrespect. A-Sang will be furious he has missed this performance.

“Put him in the dungeons for now,” Wei Ying says, “Let us see if his head cools. Do not hurt him!” he adds quickly, as the Imperial guard advances to seize Jin ZiXuan’s sword.  

Predictably, Jin ZiXuan fights them, and predictably, he loses, although Wei Ying has to admit that the boy’s skills are fairly decent.

“Your Majesty,” uncle Jiang begins, his voice concerned, “the Young Master’s illness--“

“He is not ill,” Wei Ying snorts quietly, so his voice would not carry to Sect Leader Yao, “He is young, stupid, and angry. I identify, but cannot condone such behavior in public.”

“Your Majesty,” Jin GuangShan is kneeling, his face as gray as the stone arch behind him, “I beg leniency for my son. He is truly not well--“

“Sect Leader,” Wei Ying interrupts coldly, “Do not invite me to speak words we may both regret in the future. Your son had drawn his sword with the intent to cause harm to the Emperor. What possible leniency can you seek that I have not already shown?”

Jin GuangShan says nothing else, and his silence is somehow more unsettling than all the falsehoods that so frequently spill out of his mouth. He remains kneeling even as Wei Ying gathers his escort, and continues down the hallway as if nothing of significance had occurred.

“This will cause problems, Your Majesty,” uncle Jiang says softly.

“Then do your job, and ensure that it does not.”

[lucifers-trash-stash]

Hi when are you going to keep writing Thanos's Escape Me story?

I'm going to explain this in the nicest terms possible and that might make me sound like a huge bitch but I'll answer this question AGAIN because I get this question constantly and I answer it similarly a lot of the time and my answer isn't directed specifically at you but my experiences as a whole.

It might never be continued. I'm sorry if that makes people upset but its the truth. One of the biggest reasons was Marvel and Disney being an absolute shit companies that only value ratings over genuine good storytelling and made it so that i lost a lot of my interest for the franchise in general. This happened with TWD too and it absolutely burned me from the series altogether. And when that happens with my favorite series' and movies it is easier to cut my losses and focus on shit that makes me happy instead of staying in fandoms that make me upset and angry about what should or shouldn't be.

Another huge reason is because im so tired of the constant asks of when I will post. Which sounds stupid but its because more often than not the ONLY responses to new chapters I would get would be 5% people actually sharing what they liked about the chapter and how much they were invested or interested while the other 95% would be people IMMEDIATELY asking when the next chapter was. No saying they liked my story or anything. Just when will I pump out the next bit of free content out. For Run From Me (the name of the story btw) it would take me weeks and sometimes months of struggling with my writers block and worrying about how people would receive certain things, and then when I was FINALLY happy with the chapter I would post it all excited to see the response to my favorite parts to write and then I would get pretty much dead silence from the majority of people save for those amazing fucking mutuals and followers that would tell me how much they loved the new chapter.

And this isn't me wanting to be congratulated every time I posted something new, hell if I only got a couple of comments compared to the hundreds I've gotten I wouldn't even mind, but just the comments that flat out ignore everything I struggled and worked for to write and only ask, as you have, when I will publish more. No hey I like your fic are you going to continue or hey just curious no pressure or anything, just "when are you posting more." It's always been phrased as a demand of me. And the last chapter really was the breaking point for me. I was so fucking proud of that fic and where I was taking it and was transitioning into the Guardian's of the Galaxy arc and introducing Gamora and Nebula and I thought I had done a really good job with those character dynamics and then got next to no feedback or excitement. Just when and where is the next chapter.

When you couple this with people who even went out of their way to give me backhanded compliments, like one individual who started off by telling me how much they loved my fic but hated the Thanos' wives OCs and hoped Thanos would get rid of them and had a very polyphobic attitude towards me, and while at the time I wasn't identifying as such but as an individual who would classify myself as poly now that sort of shit hurt me a lot. I would also get people who read my very dark story that I thought I was making very clear and obvious that this sort of kidnapping and forcing to be a wife scenario wouldn't lead to a happy ending had a lot of people telling me they couldn't wait until Thanos and my OC were married and got rid of all the wives and lived happily ever after... all of it just debilitated me because I knew telling the story I wanted would make everyone pissed off and hate me.

And thats why I made my slasher/horror movie sideblog. This is my main and I literally cannot be on it anymore because even though my blog has been pretty multi fandom this entire time, and how I tried to delve into Star Wars and writing fic that made me happy, I would always get comments about why I wasn't writing more Thanos. So yeah. Sorry to be the big massive cunt that ruins everyone's day. In fact I still get super fucked up mentally having to confront this every time. Hell I'm even scared to post all of my current writing on my AO3 cause I know for a fact I'm going to get people bitching even more when I literally have posted so many diff fandoms there and not just MCU.

So yeah. Sorry to write out this huge ass emotionally charged response because I normally can answer asks with a level head but this is a subject that hurts me a lot. I can't even promise the fic will even be finished or pretend to be like "oh maybe in the future" because I think I've been so burnt out on it and I get so emotional even just thinking about it.

I'm currently focused on writing things that make me happy in a fandom of some of the nicest people and friends that I've ever had and I couldn't ask for anything better. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news or make it sound like im making excuses but hey thats kind of how it is. These are my feelings and I have to step away from that fic because it isn't good for my mental health. I need to focus on me and myself and im writing stuff now that makes me happy and surrounding myself with supportive people. And if anyone has a problem with that you need to evaluate your own life.

So yeah. Thats whats up with me. Not sure if anyone will see this or care. I apologize for the emotional ramble but yeah I think I hit my breaking point on this particular topic.

Lots of love to my mutals and friends. I appreciate each and every one of you.

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

an incomplete list of Thoughts on Gallifrey: Time War 4

will probably be added to as time goes on because my brain is in a fog this morning and I’m really struggling to be coherent

this is already so long and I don’t know how to stop oh no

- Time War could’ve very easily been a 5-boxset arc, and I really wish it would’ve been. I think it would’ve cleared up a lot of the issues that I and others have with the arc, especially in terms of pacing and character and relationship development.

- alternatively, they could’ve returned to the original format of 5 chapters per season, which I personally liked a lot and think works a little better for Gallifrey.

- this is technically about Time War 2 and 3, but it’s connected to 4, so: I think some stories should’ve been shifted around a bit so that things flowed along more smoothly and the transition from Mother Tongue to Unity made more sense, and then from Unity to Homecoming. because as it stands, it feels to me like making Romana and Leela and Narvin “break up” after Leela spends all that time away from them was just done for drama and wasn’t fleshed out well enough to completely work like I’m assuming the writers wanted it to.

- I have come to the conclusion that, while David Llewellyn is a good writer whose Gallifrey stories I generally enjoy a lot, he just doesn’t understand Brax very well.

- actually I feel like Brax’s writing in Gallifrey has just been a little *off* since his last appearance in Gally4. (with the exception of Solider Obscura, which I love, even though I ALSO question the writers’ decision to essentially reverse Brax’s character development there; again, this is another thing that I think could’ve been just fine if there had been more time to deal with it, say a fifth boxset or five stories in every boxset)

- and this makes sense -- because David Llewellyn doesn’t fully grasp some really core aspects of who Brax is and his motivations, but is generally a pretty good writer and seems to get the other main characters of Gallifrey well, we’re left with a sense of good writing for Brax... but when it really comes down to it in the end, everything sorta falls apart because he doesn’t understand the deeper workings of the character and why he does the things he does.

- basically I really really wish Justin Richards could’ve written Beyond, because I think he would’ve done an amazing job with it and the ending wouldn’t have felt so bizarre

- (also I wonder if they had to cut a scene last minute because honestly that whole last sequence feels incredibly weird somehow??? not only does it feel OOC for Romana--like come on. I’m sorry, I know that he’s mistreated her and people she cares about a lot and she has a right to be done with him, but we know her. her responding that way to seeing him brutally killed in front of her after all their conversations in the earlier parts of the story feels so incredibly wrong and I cannot articulate just how much I dislike it--but there’s also an incredibly rough scene transition there and a music transition that sounds really bad, to be blunt. like they had to chop out a scene the morning before release and had no time to fix it, so they just did what they had to and hoped no one would notice)

- gotta be honest, I’m pretty salty about Beyond and probably will be talking about it for a while. maybe I should make a tag specifically for it so y’all can mute that one, because I hate being so negative about things I actually do enjoy, but I had a Lot of issues with that story and I just.... 

- yeah anyway, moving on 😅

- I did, on the whole, enjoy Homecoming, however

- again with the pacing, I think it would’ve been a lot better if they had been able to lead up to it more, especially with the emotional relationships between the Trio. Leela and Romana was ok, Romana and Narvin was ok, and Leela and Narvin was ok, but they really could’ve gone harder on the emotions I think?

- actually that’s a big thing about this boxset overall, and it’s especially evident in Homecoming-- I feel like they were holding back for some reason, and they really really didn’t have to. Especially as this is being advertised (at least in an unspoken way) as The Big Finale.

- (I mean for one they definitely could’ve had Leela and Narvin kiss at the end of that last interaction and it would’ve been fine and super fitting but ya know)

- also I do want to draw attention to the fact that this is most certainly not the absolute and final end of Gallifrey. I mean, perhaps of Gallifrey proper? But I’m going to be incredibly shocked if this it just. it. for these storylines and these characters. especially with where they left things at the end of Homecoming.

- actually, this might be the root of this problem: that the writers were simultaneously trying to write the Big Finish (no pun intended) for Gallifrey, but at the same time, they wanted to keep it very open-ended and ready to be picked up again when the time comes. So it ends up just feeling kind of... muddled, and noncommittal. Because they want this huge, heartrending, emotional finale, but at the same time it’s not a finale, and so they can’t do anything too big and heartrending and emotional and final with the characters, because the story needs to be able to continue. and so we’re stuck with an “ending” that’s probably not really an ending, and it simultaneously feels just a little underdone and like a big lead-up into nowhere.

- I mentioned to @spicydinosaurwings948 right after listening to it that the end reminded me of that thing a lot of big film/TV franchises do now, where they lay threads throughout one film and at the very end there’s an after-credits scene and some sort of announcement that ushers in the next era or spin-off of the franchise (sort of like what they did in the end of the most reason season of The Mandalorian, where they’re using Boba Fett’s involvement in that show to launch his own series). The problem is, as far as we know right now, they aren’t planning anything to follow up on this (unless they’re really great at keeping secrets and telling half-truths and are planning to shock us all in a few weeks, which wouldn’t entirely surprise me even tho I’m not counting on it happening).

- I have seen people say that they think some of the problem with the finale was that the writers were too occupied with trying to tie things into other existing storylines, like the show itself and the DW audios, which is also valid. I don’t personally think that is the root of the problem, but I definitely understand where that idea is coming from and I agree that it could’ve contributed to the issues.

- now might also be a time to mention that I can totally see some of these things from Gally:TW being brought up in the young War Doctor stories they’re doing soon? obviously not too much, but I can see characters like Eris showing up there, or maybe a reference to the Doctor not knowing where Romana is, or maybe even Armitage!Rassilon being the first Rassilon of those stories.

- annnnnd speaking of Hot Rassilon: the “ascension”. I have no idea what was going on with all that but it definitely felt like Something Big and now I’m really puzzled as to what there were doing with it?? is this going to be picked up somewhere else?? is it just another thing they introduced that needed to be fleshed-out better?? hello Big Finish and Scott Handcock and anyone else who can help me, I really need answers because?????? (I mean surely, surely it doesn’t tie into Ascension of the Cybermen???????)

[snkpolls]

SnK Episode 67 Poll Results (for Manga Readers)

The poll closed with 254 responses. Thank you to everyone who participated!

Please note that these are the results for the Manga Readers’ poll. If you wish to see the results for the Anime Only Watchers’ poll, click here.

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RATE THE EPISODE 246 Responses

The response to this week’s episode remains overwhelmingly positive, with 97.6% of responses giving it a score of 3 or higher. 

This is the first episode where I have absolutely no criticisms, so im quite happy with how it turned out.

Voice acting was top tier

perfect

Emotional 

Great Job! I'm glad my favorite character's death was so emotionally misered.

Forget Attack on Titans, this episode was Attack on my Feelings ! 😭

I want to rate it a 1 because of Sasha but a 5 because of how well it was done... so 1.5

Absolutely loved it

Perfect

ASIDE FROM SASHA’S DEATH, WHICH MOMENT WAS THE MOST EMOTIONAL FOR YOU? 247 Responses

Connie’s heartfelt admission to Jean seems to have stolen the hearts of the plurality of responders (36%). That is followed by a tie of 18.2% responses noting Eren’s breakdown or EMA’S tense reunion as the most emotional moment for them. In third place is Gabi’s tragic declaration about her struggles with 11.3%. Other responses were, in order, Jean lamenting all of the deaths occurring, Gabi and Falco realizing that Zeke betrayed them, Hange scolding Eren for forcing the SC to intervene in Marley and Levi and Eren’s confrontation.

Connie telling Sasha and Jean that they're special to him made my heart hurt knowing what was going to happen mere minutes after. I honestly saw me and my two best friends through them, and it was gut wrenching seeing Connie and Jean's reactions. Even Mikasa's reaction broke me, to be honest. They all lost a huge light in their lives.

WHICH MOMENT SURPRISED YOU THE MOST? 222 Responses

So this question was meant to only go on the anime watchers poll and ended up here somehow. Thanks to the 222 who were good sports and responded anyway! :P The most shocking moments that took place in this chapter/episode was the revelation that Eren went rogue from the Survey Corps, that Zeke was collaborating with the Survey Corps, how the Survey Corps treated Eren, and that some Paradisians seemed to be turning to nationalism, in that order. 

Not sure why we're being asked as manga readers which moment shocked us the most since we already knew everything that was going to happen this week

HOW MUCH DID SASHA’S DEATH HURT YOU? 249 Responses

When it came to Sasha’s death, it would appear that it broke the hearts of the overwhelming majority of responders, with 81.1% giving it a rating of either 4 or 5 on the tragic scale. 

Broke my heart and I'm still crying over it three days later. Honestly though, it was greatly done. 

3 years later it hit me, Sasha is dead ;_;

Cried my whole soul and body. Rip sweet Sasha

I thought Sasha's death would've been more emotional.

WHOSE REACTION TO SASHA’S DEATH AFFECTED YOU THE MOST? 250 Responses

Sasha’s death elicited various reactions from the main cast. Two different responses tied at 36.4% noting Connie and Mikasa’s reactions to Sasha's death as the one affecting them the most. This was followed by Eren’s at 13.2%. The rest were, in order, Armin, Jean, Levi and Hange. 

I don’t cry at fiction much, but Sasha’s death got me more than I thought it would. I feel like seeing Armin and Mikasa’s reactions in particular is what got me.

The way they animated Armin and Mikasa bawling over Sasha's body and the inclusion of Call Your Name made it all the more emotional. I think by "Assassin's Bullet" they also meant a bullet through my heart because man did that hurt to watch. 😭🤧

WOULD YOU PISS YOUR PANTS IF LEVI WAS GLARING AT YOU WITH MURDEROUS INTENT? 248 Responses

A bit of a joke question, but we wanted to know if Levi appeared as threatening as he seemed. 80.2% seems to think so, admitting their incentive to piss their pants. In contrast, 19.8% don’t think the Captain’s such a scary guy!

THE FULL VERSION OF “ASHES ON THE FIRE” BY KOHTA YAMAMOTO (THE PREVIEW SONG) IS NOW OUT. IF YOU’VE LISTENED TO IT, WHAT DO YOU THINK? 236 Responses

“Ashes on the Fire” has been released to rave reviews, with 88.1% of responses giving it a 4 or a 5. Nobody gave it a 1, either. Yamamoto-san, thank you!

OVERALL, HOW WELL DO YOU THINK MAPPA ADAPTED THE MARLEY ARC? 251 Responses

In spite of the relatively vocal complaints about the adaptation of certain elements of the Marley Arc, it would appear that the overwhelming majority of responders seemed pleased with it, with 51.4% giving it 5 and 37.1% giving it a 4. 1s not present. 

I've been a bit bothered how Mappa follows the Manga like a slave, using the panels as scenes and not adding anything in between. Sure it works for Manga, but it feels weird to me to watch in Anime how Eren grabs Armins hand and they don't give a transition where Armin pulls him in, but just show him inside the airship next. Just little things, but bothers me a bit. Overall I'm really enjoying their choices.

The show looks BETTER

I was fine with the episode. The quality of animation dropped but I understand that every scene cannot be animated on highest level. MAPPA has done a great job with the Marley arc. They shown the character development and bonds between the warriors perfectly. We had some cuts here and there but overally was okay: 8/10 for me. 

I’m so pleased that MAPPA has taken the anime. I’m still more of a fan of this particular series’ manga than anime though.

DID SASHA’S DEATH AFFECT YOU MORE WHEN YOU READ THE MANGA, OR SEEING IT ANIMATED WITH VOICES AND MUSIC? 249 Responses

As noted above, Sasha’s death seemed to be a hard hitter for most. Comparison of the adaptation vs the original allows to discern which hit the readers/watchers the hardest. Just one percent shy of a majority (49%) thought that the anime made it much more tragic. 30.9% noted that the impact was roughly similar across both mediums. On the flip side, 10.4% thought that the initial depiction of it in the manga was the hardest hitter. There were also a couple of write-ins. 

I dont remember I sped run reading the manga, kinda regretting it

I knew it for the first time in the manga, so it had a more powerful impact (I cried for a whole week. Not kidding) and the anime managed to make me cry as hard as in the manga. Though, I already was aware and grieved so it wasn't as bad

Got Spoiled :( so kinda meh, saw it coming

When the music kicked in after Connie announced she was gone, my heart broke into a million pieces. 

Let's be honest, Sasha's role was over after she killed the titan in the village and saved Kaya. After that she was just there. She got zero development, zero important moments, zero depth. Her death effected many characters and helped them to develop. Sasha's death was sad but at least brought some important changes in others. 

Not a Sasha fan so I was not really that affected but having a death in the series always feels sour

I think for me, they're both even.....mostly. There's just something about having been waiting for the chapter leaks on reddit with a bunch of other people and most of us collectively grieving at the same time. Once bigger pages of the chapter started coming out, it made me cry. I didn't even cry during serumbowl when I first read it and that had plenty for me to be even more upset about.

Honestly while reading manga I hated that Sasha’s last word was „meat”, it seemed so ridiculous. I’m happy MAPPA made it look more serious with music. Actually everyone’s reaction for Sasha’s death had more impact on me than the death itself

HOW DID YOU FEEL WHEN YOU SAW GABI KILL SASHA IN THE MANGA? AND HOW DO YOU FEEL SEEING IT AGAIN NOW, KNOWING HOW GABI’S ARC DEVELOPS? 247 Responses

Gabi is perhaps the most controversial character introduced post-time skip. Whether you’re a proud member of the Gabi Gang, proud hater of the 12 year old or just a neural party, everyone can admit that. With Sasha’s death at her hands, many seemed to offer up their opinion on the kid, back then and now. A slight plurality, 31.2%, stated that they did not hate her back when 105 first released and they don’t hate her now. 23.1% note that although they were rather upset with her back down, they are not (upset/angry) any longer. On the flipside, 25.5% state that they still hate the kid, as they did back then. Finally, some were simply neutral. Classic. 

Quite a few write-ins, as well.

I hated her in the manga but after watching the anime, I’m not happy about it but I understand why she did what she did and don’t hate her as much anymore.

I was extremely upset about it before and am still extremely upset about it now, but for different reasons. I hate her less but am not any less annoyed by her brainwashed hatred of the Paradisians, although I understand her much better and realize and empathize that she's just a kid who's been used by her country in the worst way.

Gabi Braun Must Die

Broke my heart and was upset, but understood where she was coming from (thought about her perspective only)

Sasha shoulda killed this cunt while she had the chance

It’s war, she did as she needed to.  Her arc is fantastic 

love hate relationship 

I didn't like her but not because of Sasha death (that's war consequence) and it's the same now

I really hated her with my whole heart and soul, but now that it has been all explained, that she had character development, I even like her now

I used to be angry about it but I understand why now, Gabi is just a victim of Marley’s control just like anyone else is, it’s a shame this is the results of it. She’s still at fault but I can’t hate her so much for it

I feel tired of Gabi hate. I disliked her in the manga back then but now I feel neutral towards her, because she has changed. Yet, I wish she took less screentime. 

SORRY for ranting! I don't understand the hate on Gabe. Yes, I know she killed a Paradise character which was present in series since its beginning and I understand Sasha's fans are upset Sasha is not here anymore because of her. but those people do not analyse Gabe as they should be. Every character belongs to a different side and each side is blinded by what heir belives in. It is okay to not like Gabe but I don't tolerate hate on her. I THINK THIS QUESTION SHOULD NOT HAVE BEEN INCLUDED AT ALL.

Initial hate, understanding after some thought

Understanding her situation I know I shouldn’t hate her, but I’m choosing to be petty and hate her anyway 

I liked her much more than I like her now. She was a much better character back then, her killing Sasha (a one-note comedic relief) was cool and brought some spice to the story. Now she just exists to spout themes and convenient exposition and to be an aimbot

i dislike her, even if i understand her

I dont like Gabi. Never did. It isnt because she killed Sasha tho. I just dont care for Gabi tbh BUT i can totally understand her actions and do not blame her for it after seeing the destruction and killings

I was and still am upset about Sasha's death, but from the start I blamed it more on the circumstances than Gabi.

I loved her then, I love her now and it probably wouldn’t change even if she killed my favourite characters. She’s my cinnamon roll

Gabi did nothing wrong, killing a soldier in the battlefield is not a crime.

See, I WANT to like Gabi since she's obviously changed, but knowing she killed Sasha nonetheless will ALWAYS prevent me from having any love or respect for her. She will always be my most hated character

MAPPA ADDED AN EXTENDED SCENE OF FLOCH AND OTHER SURVEY CORPS RECRUITS BEATING GABI AND FALCO. HOW DID YOU FEEL ABOUT IT? 240 Responses

MAPPA added an extra scene of Floch and Friends raining down copious amounts of gratuitous violence upon two 12 year olds (MAPPA is pro-child violence???????? Find out when 111 is adapted). 48.8% seemed to think that it was a decent addition, even if just for the SC’s characterization (or perhaps you enjoyed seeing that?). 22.5% thought it was a bit over the top to feature. Finally, 16.7% did not care. 

I didn't like it. But, it was def a believable reaction from them.

I just wish it was enough to kill her

I liked the additional characterization of Floch & co.

Great addition, it was implied in the manga so the scene fitted well. Still, it was horrifying to see how vile the scouts were to two kids

How about an option where we're glad Gabi got beaten to a pulp but not when Falco was?

ORA ORA thing, but we viewers get hurt too. 

Didn't feel bad about Gabi getting beat up, but I did feel bad seeing Falco get beat up. Poor boy didn't deserve that

A nice addition 

I thought it was a great choice to highlight the continuing violence and feelings of vengeance from both sides even more. and I thought it contrasted really well with Jean's decision not to throw the kids out of the airship.

The people glorifying this scene annoy the shit out of me

It's a good way to hint the "Yaegerist" perspective to anime onlies

MUDAMUDAMUDAMUDAMUDAMUDAMUDAMUDAMUDA

The Gold Experience memes are funny

It was an IC scene for people like Floch + I feel bad for the kids

The way they shot that scene made the recruits seem like mindless, gross-faced animals storming towards the kids to beat them up. I liked how they were dehumanised like that, considering that most faces amongst them belonged to the ones who support the rumbling. 

It hurt to see that but good scene though

Feel empathy for Gaby. Violence don't solve problems

Now THAT'S what I call fan service! Who needs big-boobed, big-ass females or shirtless guys with and when you can just have the most hated character get the tar beaten out of them xD

I can see why they did it. MAPPA's not dumb and I'm sure they anticipated a massive onslaught on hate towards Gabi specifically, so it was their way of trying to satisfy the haters. Falco didn't deserve it tho.

It was a good addition

GREAT JOB MAPPA

I hate Gabi too but that was too much beating up a child, yet it also showed how shit Floch and the others are.

Apparently some people never noticed that Gabi and Falco got beat up, probably because it happened in the background. So it was good for MAPPA to call attention to it.

I love Gabi but she had that coming. No need to hurt Falco though. :(

OVERALL, HOW WELL DO YOU FEEL MAPPA EXECUTED THE REVEAL THAT ZEKE IS A TRAITOR TO MARLEY? 240 Responses

The reveal that ZOOK has been working against Marley for years on end is one of the most important ones in the series, really. So it was important to have it be executed in a rather decent manner. The vast majority of the fandom thought that MAPPA did a fine job. 52.1% gave it a rating of 4, 27.5% gave it a 5 and 17.1% gave it a 3. The couple of the other respnders gave it a 2, with no 1s.

IN THE END, DO YOU THINK EREN’S ACTIONS IN MARLEY WERE ULTIMATELY JUSTIFIED? 242 Responses

A question to remember… Were Eren’s actions in Marley ultimately “justified”? A plurality, 44.6% seems to think so. In contrast, 24% disagree. And 31.4% still aren’t sure to this day.

SIMILARLY, DO YOU THINK THE SURVEY CORPS WAS ULTIMATELY JUSTIFIED IN TREATING EREN AS THEY DID? 244 Responses

When it comes to the SC treating Eren as they did, the division is much less pronounced however. The majority, 60.7%, think that the SC had quite the justification for treating Eren as they did. On the flip side, 19.7% think that there was such justification for behaving in such a manner towards Eren. Finally, the same amount of responses stated that still can’t be sure to this day.

NOW THAT WE’VE GOTTEN A CLEAR SHOT OF YELENA, DID MAPPA DO HER JUSTICE? 243 Responses

YELENA is here. Queen 👑. Or well, maybe not. Who am I to say? In any case, her appearance was received well. 52.7% thought MAPPA did very well and 33.7% went on to declare their love for her. Just shy of 10% noted that MAPPA could have done a little better though. 

Kinda wish her hair was like neon or something idk

Need more eps of her to decide, she didn't get much screentime and lines here. 

I don't like Yelena, but yeah I guess they did good.

In the manga she was a creepy-looking person. MAPPA made her unique, interesting and mysterious. I love her voice and her stoic, relaxed self. MAPPA did a good job.  

QUEEN!!!!!

Great adaptation but I still don't like her as a character

Don’t care about her 

don't really care

I hate her and I don't care about her.

WHICH SCENE FROM THE PREVIEW ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? 247 Responses

Such a colorful chart for this one. It would appear that slightly over a quarter look most forward to seeing Crykasa at Sasha’s grace. Slightly less (21.9%) want to see Sasha enjoying Niccolo’s cuisine. In third place is the scene with Connie, Jean, Mikasa and Niccolo at Sasha’s grace. The rest are, in order from most to least, Onyankopon and Yelena teaching the Survey Corps about the Port, EMA talking at the shooting range and Hange and Armin learning about Marley’s technology.

HOW HYPED ARE YOU FOR THE UPCOMING TIMESKIP FLASHBACKS? 239 Responses

The time skip flashbacks seem to be a hit. A little over 51% are super stoked about seeing them animated. Slightly under 24% state that they’ll enjoy them, but are looking forward to other things more. In contrast, 22.6% are ready to go crazy (from a positive standpoint)! Wooo! 

Enjoying AND dreading it at the same time

I just want the centipede

Boring. The only thing what interests me is Historia teasing Mikasa about her crush on Eren. The rest is too jolly. 

I'm looking forward to see Yelena's insane self be animated. That, and more Zeke.

THE MOST RECENT LIST OF FUTURE EPISODE TITLES SHOWS THAT EPISODE 12 WILL LIKELY END AROUND CHAPTERS 109-111, LEAVING CHAPTER 112 (EMA’S ARGUMENT) FOR EPISODE 13. EPISODE 67 WAS ALMOST ENTIRELY ADAPTED FROM CHAPTER 105, PROVING THAT ADAPTING DIALOGUE-HEAVY CHAPTERS FAITHFULLY CAN EASILY REQUIRE THE FULL 20 MINUTES. WITH ONLY 16 EPISODES - AND SO MANY WHICH ARE DIALOGUE-HEAVY - DO YOU THINK THINGS WILL END OFF WITH THE INITIATION OF THE RUMBLING (CH. 122), AS HAS BEEN SPECULATED BY MUCH OF THE FANDOM? 238 Responses

The manner in which the Season will end is a mystery to even the manga readers. Where will it end? Will it have many cuts? These are the questions. 36.6% seem to think that MAPPA will somehow manage to both end it at Chapter 122 and cut as little as possible. 26.5% don't believe ending on 122 is possible. 12.2% do believe MAPPA will end the Season on 122, but only with many notable cuts. Finally, just a little under 20% are simply not sure. There were a few write-ins as well. 

I hope not, too many cuts would be required 

The is no way they're making it up to 122, at first I thought they were going to finish it off with Eren's head getting blown off in 119, but now that seems like a reach too. Now I think MAPPA is probably going to end this first half of the season with Eren and Pieck's "where is the enemy?" and the warriors arriving to Shiganshina 

I’m not sure right now so I’ll have to see for later episodes for the cut-off point, if it isn’t the Rumbling then it’ll be when Gabi shoots Eren

MOVIE

I'm conflicted. I'm sure they'll end at rumbling because it's the only reasonable point to cut it, but I feel like they're running out of episodes. Then again I'm feeling the same about the state of Manga, there's just too little chapters left to end things up well.

I don't really want to think too much about it, I just want to enjoy the anime lol

I fully expect 119 to be the end

What was the point of rushing Reiner's chapters if you are going to slow down later. Goddamn it MAPPA. 

It'll really depend on the pacing for the next couple episodes, but I'm with a bulk of the fandom that see Chapter 119 Two Brothers being the end point for The Final Season. IF they were to skip the opening and maybe the ending, I can see them transitioning from Eren's head getting blown off immediately into his transformation and the beginning of the Rumbling. But even that is quite farfetched. 

I have no idea, I'm a little worried now. Wouldn't be the first time a lot of content gets cut but if they insist on reaching ch. 122, I just don't see how you do that without butchering a lot. If that happens, it would probably lessen my enjoyment of the season.

Yeah, I think it will have a lot of cuts, but I believe that it will get there because Ymir falling in the tree was in the trailer

ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS ON THE EPISODE?

It's amazing seeing how each week, something with SnK trends! ^^

It still baffles me just how much people insist on hating Gabi, especially when her arc has shown tremendous growth in the manga. Reiner was no better than her when he was a child and continued to insist that Paradisians are devils and chose to further destroy their lives even after sleeping under the same roof as the 104th for 3 whole years and forming personal bonds with them. Yet, his actions are forgivable but Gabi's are not? Both characters have shown remorse for their former beliefs and misdeeds against Paradisians. Both realized that they were in the wrong. The characters have forgiven Gabi. Why can't y'all do the same? People who want Gabi to suffer are no better than they accuse her of being. 

Well done episode which managed to capture the emotions of sasha's death perfectly

monke

I really appreciate Gabi as a character. She has spunk and a strong character arc in which she changes and grows more than anyone in the last 30 chapters of the manga, save maybe Mikasa (ignoring how Eren, Reiner, Armin and maybe a few others changed during the timeskip). It makes me sad seeing people wishing for her to die and praising Floch and the others for kicking her.

Gabi absolutely deserves the hate she gets

I absolutely love to see the anime-onlies mass hate of GabBitch, does my heart good xD

Boring ,too much Gabi she is annoying

Time to strap in: wild ride ahead!

Gabi Braun is the WORST character, her arc was poorly written and the moment she kills Sasha solidifies her rightful place as most hated character

No development has made me stop hating Gabi. The wound of Sasha's death will ALWAYS overshadow any crocodile tears Gabi may cry.

Kudos to Jean's and Connie's voice actors. Emotions were so raw and natural.

so good! they're really nailing down the emotional beats so far!

Dialogue-heavy but still amazing! Also the music was great

I didn't felt anything when Sasha died. Even the first time, in the manga. She hasn't enough personnality for me to care. Erwin and Bertolt's death were more saddening for me. Stop hating Gabi. She was in grief and she did what Marley brainwashed her to. And Sasha killed people right in front of her, so…

1 chapter was too little to be adapted for an episode, you could tell some scenes were stretched to fit the runtime

The music they chose for the scene of Sasha passing was also the same music they used when the Survey Corps first donned their capes and Eren found out Marco was dead... man, that song is gonna hit harder than ever now

It didn’t help with the overwhelming amount of hate Gabi is getting. I hope Mappa does her justice because she’s a great character but the Anime only seem to hate her because its a “funny” “popular” thing but it really isn’t... shows who really is paying attention to the story and the people who are watching it because it’s popular and trendy 

People who are hating on Gabi do not understand the themes portrayed in AoT

Pretty solid overall. Wonderful bits of animation such as the ODM bits and the solid character acting from Sasha going down, Mikasa and Armin is distress, personal highlight being Gabi's reload animation. Good ost choices, nice addition of Samuel and Daz to foreshadow their conflict later on in the story, and great work from Connie, Gabi and Eren's VAs.

Friendly reminder that just because we hate Gabi does NOT mean we don't "understand" the story or themes. We just don't care because Gabi is a bad character.

U mad at Gabi for what she did ? Did she kill Potato girl for no reason? Imgine a kid, at least 3 years younger than the 104th, made fighting on WARS and praised for it, brainwashed by Marley that Paradisians are devils, and these devils came in her home, killing her friends and this WOMAN killed in front of her eyes two people who tried to protect her. Don't be mad at Gabi. Grieve for Sasha, okay, but stop hating Gabi. You're the worst when you do it

Hey Gabiatans: as long as you're not threatening the VA or other RL p olle, it's PERFECTLY fine to hate Gabi. Period. We don't have to like her, and it's not like we don't "understand" her just because we hate her. I "understand" a lot of Germans were forcibly coerced into joining the Nazi regime, but I don't have to pity then for any consequences that came for them.

Leviiiiiii

I was surprised that Mikasa and Armin crying over Sasha had no voice over. I thought it was still effective but I'm not sure if I prefer it. Other than that, the character animation was amazing this episode. Gabi's hands as she reloaded the rifle and Armin crying were my favorites. Overall, everything was pretty perfect and I love it when a chapter gets adapted in full with basically no cuts. One of the best episodes in the series and a proper send off for Sasha.

Wonderfully done episode! They truly did Gabi and Falco's perspectives justice. Also, seeing Eren's expressions and reactions in animated format was clarifying and super well done, too!

WHERE DO YOU PRIMARILY DISCUSS THE SERIES? 227 Responses

Thanks again to everyone who participated! 

[shutupandshipit]

Sharpen Your Blades - Ch.7

Summary: “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

The thinning of Aizawa’s patience was evident in the twitching of his brow. “If you stop asking questions, maybe I could finish explaining.

”With a huff and roll of his eyes, Katsuki glanced away from their coach.

“City Hall and the SC want us to give them more variety. We are a team solely made up of single skaters. Every year, we dominate the rankings for single skate while Shinketsu dominates the pairs, so this year both cities are being required to split their skaters evenly between singles and pairs with at least one pair coming from out top five.” There was a collective intake of breath, but no one commented, choosing instead to remain silent. “Unfortunately, for us, it’s a lot easier to switch from pairs to singles. With our male to female ratio, alpha/beta/omega ratio, and those of you actually experienced with pair skating, we’re at a disadvantage. So, I’ve decided to choose your partners for you.”

…..

Or where Katsuki and Izuku are forced to be partners so they can continue to compete, but the blood in the water may be thicker than anyone realized.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T

Chapter: 7/20

Previously <- Chapter 6: Something about cats and bags

Chapter 8: First Snows -> Next

Chapter 7: Catch

“Making their debut, our first place winners are still unofficial as they haven’t presented yet, but we cannot wait until they do! When they go official, they are going to dominate the competition! So, without further adieu, coming in first place, we have Bakugou Katsuki as lead and Midoriya Izuku as follow! Let’s give these two youngsters a round of applause!”

The announcer’s voice rang distantly in Izuku’s ears. With his anxiety and panic and excitement all mixed together, his heartbeat raced and his face burned. Katsuki’s heat pressed into his side, the back of his neck and shoulders, didn’t help the situation. The thud of his heartbeat in his ears was nearly deafening in the already loud rink. All of the applause and shouting voices and whistling was echoed and amplified by the dome.

Gold medals and pretty red ribbons were hung around their necks. Just another sensation that Izuku’s overstimulated mind struggled to incorporate.

Dizzy nausea swirled over him. The announcer moved on to the second and third place winners, but his mind didn’t stop spinning.

He was only seven. He didn’t know how to deal with his emotions in a healthy way yet, but he knew how to act like he did. It was one of the first things he’d learned how to do when his father started to disappear for longer and longer stretches of time, and his mom couldn’t hold in her grief around him anymore.

While his smile remained firmly in place, he felt himself sway just slightly.

Katsuki’s arm tightened across his shoulders, holding him upright even as his knees turned to jelly beneath him. “Almost done. Then we can go home and watch tv.” His voice was quieter, much quieter than the cacophony around them, but Izuku heard him clear as day. Just like always. Just like it was one of Katsuki’s superpowers. “Can you make it?”

“I can make it,” Izuku told him, and though he wasn’t sure if he was being truthful, he knew Katsuki would make sure it was the truth in the end.

…..

October Week 4

Aizawa stood at the entrance to the rink, but unlike nearly a month ago when Izuku had been on the same side as him, he was on the ice this time. Their coach pinched the bridge of his nose while he waited for them to form up and shut up, brows pulled close together as if he had a headache. It was early in training for him to have a headache though, so Izuku thought that someone else must have caused it this time.

The team quieted down faster than the time before.

Izuku could almost taste their anxiety on the air. Or maybe that was just his own.

“Alright,” Aizawa started, not lifting his head, but cracking his eyes open to stare at the ice, “Who’s seen the news today?” Several hands went up, one of them Izuku’s. “How many of you stuck around to watch the sports section?” All hands dropped, even Izuku’s. The only sport he cared about was figure skating, and the news rarely covered it, even in their city. “Right, so, I’m not sure who let it slip, but somehow the media got ahold of the news that we and Shiketsu are splitting our teams this year.”

Izuku squirmed, remembering Mirio’s words. After a moment, he raised his hand. “Um, Mr. Aizawa, I think I might know something.” Heat rose in his face as all attention swung his way, but he pushed on. “Mirio asked me to verify the rumor last week. I didn’t agree or disagree, but…”

“But you’re shit at lying, so he knew right away,” Katsuki snapped, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall. “The kids I teach also asked me about it last week.”

“Right,” Izuku mumbled, “Well, he said that someone had given him the information. Maybe there’s a leak in the SC?”

Releasing a heavy sigh, Aizawa scrubbed a hand through his hair. “That seems likely. While it’s not going to cause us much of a problem, it might in the coming weeks. You all know how it gets as the season ramps up to the Preliminaries. Keep an eye out for each other. This stunt that the SC is pulling might make things worse, especially when the other teams start to flood in. I’m not worried about the teams themselves, but fans can get crazy. Try not to be out and about on your own if you can help it. Any of you. Yes, I’m talking to you Bakugou. Just because you’re an alpha doesn’t mean idiots aren’t going to try challenging you for being Midoriya’s partner. Keep your heads up, keep them on straight, and don’t do anything stupid. Got it?”

“Yes,” the team called in unison.

“Good. Shiketsu and we are going to be releasing a joint statement concocted by the SC with the names of the skaters who are transitioning between pairs and singles tomorrow, so you can expect to be recognized more than usual in the next few days.” They all groaned, but Aizawa simply waved away their complaints. “Whatever. Pairs, we’re going for large tricks on ice today. Stretch out well. Warm-up. Meet me on the south side of the rink in fifteen. The rest of you, you’ll be with Toshinori and Yamada today. Get going.” Aizawa turned towards the three coaches behind him, mouth set in an irritated line.

Izuku’s throat began to close as the five pairs, Todoroki and Ashido pushed off towards the south side of the rink. Panic leaked from him, and it was all he could do to keep it out of his scent.

Despite that, he still caught Katsuki turning his head to glance over his shoulder at him, but stopping briefly before he could turn all the way. After a second, he turned back forward. Could Katsuki smell it on him even through his blockers? Even though he was trying to force it down? Was he that obvious or did Katsuki just have a strong nose?

Fifteen minutes was far too short of a time to calm anxiety like Izuku’s.

Aizawa was waiting for them when Iida’s watch chimed the end of their warm-up period, and the twelve of them clustered around him and Ishiyama. “We’re going to do one team as a time to keep the ice clear. Ishiyama and I are going to act as spotters, but the ten who will be against the wall need to be alert as well. We’ll be up close and may miss a subtle indication of a fall. So, if you see something, say something or even jump in. I’d rather you get in the middle and it be for nothing than for someone to get hurt. This is mostly directed to those with pair work, but this also goes for everyone else as well.”

Aizawa’s eyes lingered on Katsuki longer than any of the others. He wasn’t surprised. Katsuki was a strong alpha with a long history of pair work. It would make sense for Aizawa to rely on Katsuki, even if it was just a subconscious reaction from the older man’s omega. Even still, the thought had Izuku’s own omega raising his hackles.

‘We don’t have a claim on him!’ Izuku reprimanded, but his omega wasn’t listening.

Aizawa pointed at Izuku. “Midoriya, Todoroki, you’re up first since you’ve got the most difficult tricks. After that, we’ll go through groups in descending order of difficulty. Let’s go, you two.” He turned on a blade, gliding out further onto the ice.

Izuku wanted to throw up.

“Midoriya?” Todoroki’s voice was quiet and gentle, just as gentle as the hand that settled on his shoulder. “Are you alright? Do you need another moment?”

Jumping, Izuku shrugged out from beneath the other omega’s hand with a wide fake smile. “I’m fine! I’m good! Totally a-okay! Let’s get going before Mr. Aizawa gets angry.” He shoved away from the wall sharply, ignoring every set of eyes he could feel boring into his back. He just needed to calm down. Calm down. Calm down. He’d completed every trick off ice multiple times with no screw ups. There was no reason he shouldn’t be able to do it on ice.

Which, of course, was a lie. The ice was a completely different environment than the studio with a host of different factors to consider. So many extra factors to consider.

All he needed to do was forget about them. It seemed counter-intuitive, especially for his ever analyzing mind, but it was the only thing he’d found off ice that allowed him to perform as he should. He just needed to allow his body to move on muscle memory. If he didn’t think, then his mind couldn’t overreact which meant neither could his body.

It was going to work. It had to work.

Todoroki followed after him. The distance was small, but significant. “What do you want us to start with?” he asked.

“Your overhead lifts have been the most solid off ice, so I want you to start with that first. Take it slow. Don’t rush. One step at a time. Plant your feet, make sure you have a solid foundation and a good grip. Once you’re sure of those, then attempt the lift. If something feels off, just abort and return to the ice. Don’t get hurt trying to force it.”

Lifts were the simplest pair trick in Izuku’s opinion. It required strength and balance, but not much else. He didn’t have to think during a lift. All he had to do was not move once Todoroki had him overhead. He could do that. He could manage a lift on ice. There was nothing to them. Lifts were easy. Lifts were easy. Lifts were easy. Lift were-

High.

Izuku shook his head rapidly to clear the intrusive thoughts from his mind. He made himself smile even wider as the three stared at him. “Sure! A lift will be a cinch.”

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed as he glared at izuku, but after a moment, he just sighed. “Alright. Take a round to gain momentum. Don’t attempt the lift until you’re back here and see us in position. You can begin your setup once you’ve reached the other side.”

“Sure thing!” Izuku chirped. He pushed off and waited for Todoroki to fall into sync with him before spreading up.

Just like Aizawa had instructed, they waited until they’d made it to the other side of the rink, skirting the edge of the other group, before beginning the setup for the lift. Izuku slid out in front of Todoroki, turning to face him after a moment. He pulled Todoroki along as the other omega planted his feet and gripped Izuku’s waist.

“Almost there. Ready?” he asked, voice ripped away by the rush of air passed Izuku’s ears, but he recognized the words on his lips.

‘Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t think.’ Izuku nodded.

Two dark blurs came up on either of their sides, and then he was above Todoroki’s head, the omega’s small hand digging into his abdomen as he quickly shifted into position. For a moment, his mind was blank. There was just the beating of his heart, the cold air biting into his cheeks. He started to reach back for his blade.

Then he glanced down. The panic he’d managed to suppress flooded back into his body in an icy wave.

His body seized before going limp, mind going as blank as his vision.

…..

Izuku absolutely reeked of putrid acidic anxiety as they warmed up. It was worse than usual, more potent. Each time Katsuki passed him, he got a whiff of his scent. Putrid like sewage or a rotting body. Acidic like vomit or ammonia. All undercut by suppressants that made him smell almost chemically scentless. All together, it was an unpleasant scent, and it only grew stronger each time he passed Izuku.

It made his stomach curdle and his alpha pace restlessly. ‘Protect. Comfort. Omega distressed. Protect. Comfort.’

‘That’s not my place,’ Katsuki through bitterly, but that thought was quickly replaced by another, ‘Not yet at least.’ Not yet. That was a true enough thought. Not yet, but one day he’d earn that right.

Katsuki didn’t know how the others didn’t smell it, how the other omegas weren’t plastered to his sides in an attempt to calm him. That was how other groups of omegas operated. If an omega was unmated, it fell to their pack mates to calm and reassure them, especially pack mates of the same secondary gender.

The same was true of alphas. Katsuki couldn’t count how many times his alpha pack mates (specifically friends like Kirisihima and Ashido) had pulled him aside to get his head on straight. To calm him when he fell into a panic attack during competition.

Those had started when he was twelve, and they’d never really gone away. Luckily, they only affected him during high stress situations like the competitive season, but he was still lucky to have people there to help him unlike when he’d been younger. When he’d been alone in his own head.

That was what pack mates were for. So it bothered Katsuki more than he’d ever let on that neither Icy Hot nor Uraraka made an attempt to calm Izuku. He wanted to yell at them. He wanted to make them pay attention to the real issue at hand rather than ice skating. An anxiety riddled Izuku was an Izuku prone to mistakes. If they were doing the big shit for practice, they needed to take care of Izuku first.

Leaning back against the wall, Katsuki felt his own anxiety leaking into his veins. Kirishima wasn’t there that time to bring him back down though, and so his heart galloped forward unhindered.

When Izuku and Todoroki pushed off towards the singles’ side of the rink, Katsuki stood up straight. When they turned towards each other and prepared for the lift, he dropped his arms to his sides. When they rounded back towards their side and their coaches flanked them, he dug his toe-pic into the ice. Izuku’s face was pinched in concentration, but there was also that ever present fear as he was lifted off the ice.

Katsuki moved before Todoroki had completed the lift. He wouldn’t have been able to explain what spurred him forward. Maybe there was a slight shift in Izuku’s scent from scared to terrified. Maybe there was a twitch in his expression. Maybe the light dimmed in his eyes.

Whatever it was, Katsuki was there before anyone had realized something was going wrong, catching the omega as soon as Todoroki’s arm collapsed from Izuku’s dead weight. Katsuki only managed to keep them from tumbling backwards by digging his toe-pic into the ice harshly.

The silence in the rink was deafening. After a moment of labored breathing as his heart began to slow, he realized that the rink was as loud as ever, he just couldn’t hear it passed the rush of blood in his ears. All of his attention was focused on the man huddled in his arms, nails digging into his bicep and panting breaths hot against his shirt. Izuku’s eyes were screwed shut.

Slowly, sound returned to Katsuki though he would have been happy for a few more moments of white noise.

“What just happened?”

“How did you do that?”

“Midoriya, Todoroki, are you alright?

“We should get them off the ice.”

“Where’s Ms. Shuzenji? Someone go get the doctor!”

“What happened!”

“Shut up,” Katsuki snarled. It was the only sound he could make that wouldn’t portray just how shaken he was. He could feel the trembling in his hands, in his arms, all covered by how badly Izuku was shaking. He was shaking like a lead in the wind, nose buried against Katsuki’s chest. “Stop fucking yelling. Nobody got hurt.”

There was a sharp hysterical laugh from somewhere close by, and Katsuki wasn’t sure, but he thought that it was possibly Ashido.

“Yes, but someone could have been.” That was Aizawa, voice deep and monotone. Lifting his eyes, their coach stood beside them, soothing black tea scent snaking out as his hand clasped Izuku’s shoulder. “That could have gone very badly.”

Katsuki didn’t say anything in return, arms tightening around Izuku instead.

The feel of Aizawa’s hand seemed to snap Izuku out of his own head, and he blinked rapidly at Katsuki’s chest. “W-what happened?” he whispered, fingers easing up and nails coming away red with blood. His movement grew faster, and he frantically pushed out of Katsuki’s hold. “What happened? I was- Todoroki- How-”

“You fucking freaked out and I had to catch your dumbass!” Katsuki spat viciously and angrily, temper rising the longer he was given to process the whole incident. “And you know what? Fuck that shit! That’s the last time you fucking practice with anyone other than me!”

Izuku sputtered wordlessly, cheeks going pink and scent growing sweeter as they stared at each other. After a moment, he squeaked, “Really?”

The change in his scent only pushed Katsuki on. “Yes! If you’re going to get fucking dropped, it’s going to be by me because at least I’ll be able to fucking catch you!” He pushed roughly through the crowd towards the rink entrance. Only when he made it off the ice did he recognize the tightness in his chest, the shortness of his breath, the heat beneath his skin. Bile burned at the back of his throat.

Kirishima’s arm slid over his shoulders, a gesture that would look like familiarity to any of the others, but was really a means to keep him from faltering as he walked. “I’ve got you man. Let’s go outside for a breath,” he said under his breath, guiding Katsuki towards the side exit that faced a small thatch of trees. A place for him to either freak out or wretch in peace.

Not for the very first time, but for the first time in awhile, Katsuki was thankful that his friend knew how to read him like an open book.

[sugarandspice-games]

Spicy take time (costarring Sugar): The Bros rated by how well I think their arcs/character development/relationship with MC was written and how much it makes sense. (Disclaimer: Our affection for these characters and how interesting, compelling, and lovable we find them has ZERO bearing on this list. ALSO, beware, here there be salt, IE, this is critical of the writing. It’s also long as fuck, so if you just wanna skim and read the bold parts, that’s okay too. You are also free to disagree with us as this is just an opinion, and keep in mind that we have only read to chapter 24 so if there are elements of the story we are unaware of... please be understanding of that and don’t spoil it.) Let’s get started, shall we?

1) Starting at the top is BEST BOI IMO: Beelzebub. So, yeah, in terms of character development and growth, he really doesn’t change all that much, aside from starting off not trusting MC to slowly opening up to them about his trauma. But putting that to the side, his relationship with them makes the most sense. After sharing a bedroom and helping him open up, as well as having the mutual goal of protecting Luke, and then even later going on to save his beloved little brother, it follows that he absolutely adores you afterward. Also, he doesn’t start off disliking you like some of the others. So, all around, he makes the most sense. He’s also one of the deeper characters with his backstory, even if I wish they’d give him other flaws than just being hongry (and playing his unhealthy eating habits/coping mechanism as a joke. Disordered eating should be taken more seriously, especially binge eating but that’s a can of worms for another day)

2) Second best is probably going to shock you, but Satan takes this spot. Why? Well, strictly in terms of arc progression, his relationship with MC starting out as one of manipulation and growing into something more genuine when they go on a heartwarming and wacky adventure together with his hated older brother which causes him to open up makes a lot of sense, at least more so than some of the others. While I wish they gave him more meat characterization wise, I think his arc was pretty well done in terms of story structure.

Okay, so, Sugar here. While I agree with Spice that Satan could use some more meat (and that we should be able to have some more information on Baby Satan because we all need that in our lives), I think that the progression of him and LUCI’S bond (not MC’s) could have done with more subtlety. While I appreciate him softening up, and see that progress, we don’t really get to see the tension of the newfound change and how he settles into letting things go/mellow out and I get it-- it’s a dating sim and the secondary relationships are well, secondary, but it would be interesting to see him and MC bond more through time.

3) Third place probably won’t be all that shocking, because this is where I’m placing Lucifer. He’s arguably one of the characters in the series who’s gotten the most love from the writers, having the most screentime, the most affectionate scenes with MC, and the most fleshed out backstory and characterization as well as fleshed out relationships with each of the characters. His relationship progression with MC also takes a nice, even pace, with him slowly learning to trust them and respect them, culminating in an almost-confession (I THINK. Unless I’m reading that part wrong) and then being shattered at MC’s betrayal, and then earned back in true Pixar-movie fashion by them teaming up for a common goal. HOWEVER. And this is a big however. I would love to see his unhealthy tendencies addressed and NOT fetishized. (Don’t come at me with that “BUT THEY’RE DEMONS THEY’RE SUPPOSED TO BE EVILLLLL” dude. If a demon being in a healthy relationship is where you draw the line in terms of believability, then why are you playing a fantasy demon dating sim anyway?) I love him, I stan him, I simp for him, but I wish he had at least apologized for his not-subtle threats of physical violence toward MC rather than jumping straight into the ALSO kinda violent “You’re mine and nobody else’s” gimmick.

Unlike some men (SPICE), I am actually not a Luci stan and while I do have a soft spot, and understanding of his place as an eldest sibling... I would also like to see the writer’s unravel the unhealthiness/coping Lucifer has in place and why/how it came to be. I feel like we get a sense that Luci has thawed since coming to the Devildom but we don’t really see how Lucifer in the Celestial Realm (and how his friendship with Simeon) has progressed. Luci has a lot of love from the writers but from a story stand-point, he is never really allowed to be weak and own up to his own flaws and how that has impacted/hurt MC.

4) Sharing fourth place is Leviathan and Mammon! I’m putting them in the same spot because the issues I have with them are the same, though I plan on addressing their good points individually. But since my beef is simpler, I’m going to start off with the bad. IMO, a good rivals to friends to lovers romance happens in STEPS. You start off from not getting along, to then finding some things in common, and gradually coming to respect each other, and then like each other, and finally love each other. This... doesn’t really happen with these two, and while we see the change from both tsundere boys starting off disliking you and eventually coming to love you, we don’t really get that inbetween that makes the payoff so much worth it. And if those inbetweens are there, the story doesn’t really tell us that, and it doesn’t show us their thought processes. Like, how much would it suck if in pokemon, your charmander evolved immediately into Charizard upon beating your first few gyms? It’s like that.

But as for the good, Levi’s arc makes sense because you’re the first person to really let him be himself and not shame him for the things he loves. You let him ramble about his interests and show interest in them yourself (AT LEAST IF YOU’RE NOT A FUCKING MONSTER. I’ll let Sugar talk more on him, that’s their boy.)

Whoo, boy. Here we go! For whatever reason, the otaku became my favorite and I love him, but as far as arcs go... He could have gotten a bit more screentime and progress. It makes sense that he would become attached to MC as his brothers are very, very... critical and patronizing about his interests. He is also by far the most skittish and introverted of the bunch, coupled with his sin and seeing all the ways he falls short (in his eyes) is a recipe for loneliness and desire for companionship/friendship. While I am not happy with the progression, for me, it makes sense and I would also have loved to see some breaking/softening of how much his Sin influences him when it comes to MC. I’m not saying erase it because demons are meant to give in to temptation but some reassurance and acceptance of that would be good.

(I also know that there is some disk horse about him guilt-tripping you about spending time with his brothers and while I agree it can be hard... It definitely isn’t on a painful level. Like, say... Ray’s in Jihyun’s route in Mystic Messenger. This also is a difference for players who are interested in one love route versus the many route and different strokes, but I digress.)

As far as Mammon goes, well, you’re his first. And he’s not only glad that there’s someone who’s kind to him instead of making fun of him, but also takes pride in having someone to protect. His puppy crush going to full blown love is adorable.

This blog is all about spicy takes, yeah? Well, here’s mine (Sugar): Mammon is lovable but not as lovable as he could be and before all the Mammon stans, come for me- let it be known I like Mammon but his introduction and how he comes to be soft is NOT an easy, or believable transition. There are ways to write a good tsundere and the writers just missed the mark by having Mammon be too callous and then slipping to lovable without that sweet slide into the other end. I will not deny he is very cute, and a good character, and a good brother (and also the most human, according to Satan’s home screen interaction) but... The progression and endearment factor is lacking because of the structure of the narrative.

5) Is another unsurprising one, but this spot is Belphegor’s. Solmare. My dude. Why did you do this. We could have had it ALL. It could have been great. But you screwed the pooch. You took anything good about this relationship out behind the shed and shot it like a lame horse. Let it be known that I LIKED Belphie and MC’s alliance to get him out of gay baby jail, and I adored that love he still holds for Beel... I thought he was going to be a fav of mine, in fact. But how they handled the... uhm... murder ruined it for me. I’m sorry, I just cannot believe that I’m supposed to suddenly be besties with the man who manipulated me and crushed me to death like, a week after it happened. What if I have PTSD from that??? Also... he claims that he loves MC for who they are and not because of Lilith, but that’s not believable when his whole turning point is finding out that they’re Lilith’s descendant. The change needed to be more gradual, and having a subtle, gradual forgiveness arc would have been AWESOME but we were robbed. ROBBED I TELL YOU!!!!!

Annnd... Belphie is actually one of my favorites FOR SOME REASON. I DON’T KNOW MAN. I agree that we could have had it and I’m like (Insert Hades red flaming hair gif here). The decision to not have a redemption arc ruined it for me and while I love Belphie and his softness/brattiness mixture with handling MC... It is underscored by a lack of believable affection and the payoff of struggle on both Belphie’s part and MC’s. Also, there is a lot of ‘You are not who I want you to be, but it’s good enough’ with MC regarding their lineage and connections to the brothers and how that plays out/color the relationships with maybe the exception of Satan and surprisingly, Mammon that irks me but again, another thought for another time.

6) Aaaaand last and also the least... Asmodeus. “YOU GET NOTHING!!! YOU LOSE! GOOD DAY SIR.” --Solmare to Asmo. The writers neglected him SO much, I like him but what the hell are they doing? There’s so much that could be explored here, and with anything involving Asmo they’re like “I do not see it”. His love for MC also isn’t really that believable when his turning point is realizing that they’re powerful. It doesn’t even fit with any of his potential conflicts. The Diavolo’s castle arc set us up to think that Asmo would have some deep seated insecurities with not being able to be loved or desired by everyone, or maybe some insecurities about not being an angel anymore, or some vulnerability issues or something, and they were just like NOPE. It doesn’t make any gotdamn sense! I just... Grrr. Asmo, I’m so sorry, sweetie. You deserve better.

Asmodeus definitely deserves better and I will stand by that until the day I stop playing this damn game. While I, personally, think that his intrigue with MC makes sense (because he is lusty-- probably not just for sex but in general), it makes sense he would want someone with power but while the set up is there, his character falls flat because there is no bonding moment, or turning point for him at all. His affection for MC is still that playful, carefree, flirty persona he carries and I would love to see it dropped and how his fall from the Celestial Realm really weighs on him and an arc where he and MC talk about vulnerability and the power behind being seen as someone attractive and the way it dehumanizes you at the same time. It could be good-- hell, it could be great-- but it was killed before it started and I will never not think that Asmo could have had some KILLER growth. As it stands, he has more connection/romantic potential with Solomon than MC.

Anyway, that’s all for now folks! Feel free to yell at us in the replies, you know you want to. If this post blows up enough, maybe we can rate the undatables (though they don’t have any story arcs so... that would be a challenge.)

[a-mellowtea]

Sarah’s Soundtrack Corner | RWBY Volume 8

Today: Episode 1 // Divide 22/11/2020: Episode 2 // Refuge

Hello everyone!

This year, I’ve decided to do something new. Rather than waiting for the Volume to end or the soundtrack to drop to talk about RWBY’s music, I’m starting this little side project: cataloguing and somewhat analyzing the show’s score and songs as they’re released.

This is also a way for me to keep myself engaged in something other than academics (’cause quarantine be gettin’ to me), as well as pointing out some details folks might overlook: there’s always a lot to talk about with the music, and it plays a pivotal role in the series.

A mini-disclaimer beforehand: I am in no way well-versed in music theory. I can’t really tell you how things are composed so much as how they more generally sound, and what the intentions behind certain choices might have been.

So, without further ado, let’s begin!

The first cue of the Volume, coming in gently against the slow fade-in from black of a young Cinder scrubbing the floor, is on piano and sparse strings. I’m hesitant to label this as anything in particular with any degree of confidence, but the progression of notes makes me believe it could be an abstract variation on Cinder’s core “theme” - specifically, the haunting choir we tend to hear around her. It would make sense: bridging the visuals with something just familiar enough to catch the ear, but also distinct.

There’s a brief pause as Cinder and Neo approach the storm, with only a small bit of ambient, tense strings; then it’s into a development of the new melody we got accompanying Salem’s arrival in Volume 7 under the usual first-episode credits. This section has a wonderful female choral element added: I’m actually half-convinced that it’s a specific “theme” for Monstra (the whale Grimm; apparently that’s her official name), rather than Salem herself. The bass percussion makes the cue feel almost literally alive, giving it a slow, steady heartbeat.

The piece crescendos as Neo catches sight of Salem, then fades away into more tense strings when Cinder kneels. A small quote of what I believe is “One Thing” kicks in when Cinder takes Neo’s credit for stealing the Relic of Knowledge.

The next quote is equally small, coming and going in the span of about 5 seconds between the 03:25 and 03:30 timestamps, and references the strings from “Party Crashers”/the Volume 7 Mantle massacre. 

I can’t quite peg the following string melody - under Cinder’s declaration that she’ll return to Atlas and take the Maiden’s power from Penny - as anything specific, though it sounds similar to the opening piano.

What I’ll tentatively label as Monstra’s “theme” takes over again as Salem communicates with her, and the cue ends on a tense crescendo along with the scene.

On our heroes’ end, this is quite the episode for abstract little melodies, because I can’t seem to nail down what plays under Oscar’s respite in the slums either. What I do recognize, however, is a small section of Mantle’s melody at around 05:42, continuing until 05:52 where it’s briefly interrupted by a vague handful of notes from the Grimm “theme”.

Everything in Mantle is quite bleak, including the instrumentation: it’s soft and somber, even the gentler moments. Oscar’s melody kicks in at 07:06 on slow strings after Weiss asks how he ended up in the crater, which transitions into a despairing little quote of Penny’s established “theme” from Volume 7. This “theme” is of particular note this time around - Alex Abraham (composer) switched up the sound of her melody to a more subdued, lost quality, and it’s quite something whenever it pops up.

“Bad Luck Charm” makes a brief appearance at 07:30, and it’s interesting to me just how darkly the quote drifts off - the final note sounds almost distorted, lending it not only an air of uncertainty, but also danger (totally not hinting at things to come - no way).

Mantle’s theme makes a reappearance at 09:03, following a lead-in on strings as Yang argues that they need to help the people. The “theme” for Amity follows at 9:18 when Pietro begins talking about the titular colisseum, then drifts into Ironwood’s once he’s brought up, and then into one of the “Atlas tension” motifs from Volume 7. The orchestration of this entire section is notably quiet; almost not there, and all with a sense of unease. As the idea for the plan begins to come together, the Atlas Military “theme” (introduced at the end of Volume 6) plays, but fades out largely unresolved with Pietro’s uncertainty about it.

Once the small argument begins in earnest and the group divides, what sounds like a gentle quote of the as-yet untitled opening plays, easing into simple strings once Jaune interjects.

A sneeze-and-you’ll-miss-it soft interruption of Penny’s melody plays again, almost lost in the strings, then a third time when she volunteers to go with Ruby’s group.

And now for the fun part.

I’m not horrendously biased, I swear.

The tense silence of this scene once Penny’s Scroll begins to ring is perfect; as are the dark, sparse, ambient strings and the fourth instance of Penny’s “theme” - played on piano, with an almost music-box-like quality. The juxtaposition is horribly fitting for the moment - James is playing on Penny’s role as a guardian, her desire to protect people, her uncertainty about a situation in which she has had very little control, and that’s all beautifully reinforced in the music.

Speaking of juxtaposition.

Upstairs, we get a gorgeous rendition of “Hero” on brass; played slow, full and in earnest, with a small bit of Winter’s melody thrown in the middle once the camera briefly shifts focus to her. The way this section is orchestrated piques my interest as well - it’s not dark, it’s not particularly somber. It’s gentle. It still has that, for lack of a better term, heroic quality to it.

And that becomes such a twisted thing by the end of the scene.

Before that, however, there’s an instance of the Grimm “theme” clearly at 14:56, and it continues to be a personal favorite. 

Another intriguing little reference hits at about 15:12, when the Council members show up - if you have an ear for it, you might pick up on it as coming from the scene in the office from Volume 7 Chapter 11 “Gravity”, complete with Ironwood’s “theme” at 15:33 (this cue might actually be directly taken from “Are You With Me?”) and to say it’s appropriate for a moment where James slips even further would be putting it mildly.

Closing out the episode proper is a freaky new melody for the Grimm hound that I can honestly say I cannot wait to hear more of.

Overall, the score for the premiere isn’t quite as bombastic as the last two years, but that’s fitting - it’s largely understated, with lots of tension and somber takes on the leitmotifs that crop up. This is actually one of the things about the episode that left me feeling like it was more of a firm and simple continuation from last year than the start of a brand new chapter, and that’s certainly not bad.

And now you stand alone, opening!

I don’t think it needs saying that every RWBY OP will split the fandom to some degree, and this one has a very different style. It doesn’t have a name yet - I personally labelled it as “The End” on YouTube, unfortunately confusing a few people - which is odd, but Jeff professed that he just couldn’t settle on one yet.

The standard guitar and heavy percussion are present, kicking off in the usual instrument-focused intro, and are mixed with layers of different instruments, synth and backing vocals throughout the song once Casey’s vocals start. Speaking of, our leading lady delivers with her usual grace, and her matured voice lends a lot to the tone of the song (the growl on “Some roses will never bloom” is amazing). Almost every line on the verse and pre-chorus has an echo behind it - either as an effect or as part of the backing - giving it a forlorn yet powerful quality.

In the lyrics department, it reminds me quite a bit of the second opening - “Time To Say Goodbye” - save with a darker undertone. I’d be hardpressed to believe that the line “We said goodbye / To all the things we loved” isn’t, in fact, a direct reference to “Now it’s time to say goodbye / To the things we loved and the innocence of youth”. In a Volume where a lot of people were clamboring for a “When It Falls 2.0″ - yours truly included - this was a surprise, but a welcome one.

Second opening is the best opening. That is a hill I will die on.

Come to think of it, this might become a trend. If I remember correctly, several lyrics in “Trust Love” harkened back to “This Will Be The Day”; what springs to mind immediately is the contrast of “When the day you waited for won’t come” with “This will be the day we waited for”, and “Always hoping that a lightning bolt / Is going to save you from this gravity” with “We are lightning / Straying from the thunder”.

If this is the case and Volume 8 goes as I believe it will - setting up for another Volume in Atlas where the huge fight happens as everyone struggles to hold the line until help arrives - then we could be due for some “When It Falls” references then.

I’ve heard some say that this opening sounds a little too crowded, that it doesn’t hit quite as hard as they expected/compared to “When It Falls”, that the darker tone relies on the lyrics rather than anything in the instrumentation, and those are valid critiques. Personally, this one’s an ear-worm - I love the sound of it; Jeff made a lot of interesting choices - but the melody itself isn’t as discernable as previous years and is going to take a while to grow on me.

I’m not going to rank these or anything because that feels a little arbitrary, but I really enjoyed what we got this first Chapter. Knowing the team, they find ways to step it up every year, so I’m seriously looking forward to what’s in store.

Until next week!

[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 8: The withering flower (Part 4)

Warnings: none

Author notes: a small, transitional part!

The place I woke up in was unfamiliar. The walls were white, as well as the sheets of the bed and the curtains. I believed I was in an infirmary when my nose smelled the peculiar scent of medications. Although my body felt numb, I found a way to sit up onto the rather comfortable mattress and touched my chest around the area that had been wounded by Rashōmon. Nothing. Not only did it not hurt, but there was no trace of stitches at all. Curious, I raised the hem of the yukata I was wearing, only to discover there was nothing left of the wound. No scar, even. I marvelled, deducing I had been healed by an incredible ability, and pushed the blanket away to stand up. As much as I was grateful for the person who had taken care of me, I still belonged to the underworld and I had to go back. Unlike Dazai, if I were to run away from the Port Mafia, people would be sent to kill me and protect their secrets. A disposable pawn did not need to stay alive in case it would come back, after all... It was already enough for me, that this person had kept me alive because he was a tad concerned... I could not ask for more.

My damaged clothes had been replaced and set onto a kind of nightstand next to the bed. As I removed my yukata, however, I noticed that only the last wound had been erased. Ancient scars, burns, traces of my struggle in a torture room, even the recent injury caused by the knife, were all there. I stared at them and followed them with my fingers. Even the best ability could not get rid of those gruesome proofs that I belonged to an underground organisation… Before being a woman, I was a mafioso. Even so, I really did want to express my thanks for being saved, but I did not even know if the person was still around... I wondered if I could leave a message... There seemed to be paper and a pen on the desk in the corner, I would write something after getting changed.

"Already awake...?" Someone opened the door, fortunately when I was done.

I jumped slightly, but smiled when I saw Dazai.

"Yes... I've slept a lot, haven't I...? This is already a new morning..."

"You needed some rest..." He looked away a moment "But that's my fault for leaving you..."

"Let's not talk about this anymore." I suggested "I understand that you needed to be discreet... I understand that things did not go along your plans as well."

"As I said..." He sighed "I wanted to ensure I would find another occupation once I left the Port Mafia... I did not want you to wander with me..."

"I understand too."

"... You're still upset..." He noted.

"Well... It's not upset... I'm just disappointed that you did not believe I could bear two years of insecurity... Honestly, I would rather follow you in depravity than losing my life far from you..." I admitted "But... I suppose you did not trust that I could stay by your side despite anything..."

"I'm sorry I did, indeed, not believe in your promise. But now, you can —"

"I will choose myself to renew this promise." I shook my head "For now, I cannot stay with you... I have to go back there."

"They will end up killing you... You'll die by your ability..."

"You, yourself, were going to kill me by being away from me..." I reminded him "I need to think..."

"Is there a chance I do not lose you, too...? Is there a chance the person I regretfully left behind will come back to my side once again...?" He asked, taking my left hand into his.

"I need to think..." I repeated "But... It'd bring me joy to see you again, sometimes..."

"Promise me we'll meet again before you... You know..." He squeezed my hand.

"I..." I lowered my eyes before sighing "That, I can promise..."

"Thank you..." Dazai cracked a smile, letting go of me.

"Then... I'll see you around..." I smiled back, opening the window to sneak out of the building.

[dailyaudiobible]

02/19/2021 DAB Transcript

Leviticus 7:28-9:6, Mark 3:31-4:25, Psalms 37:12-29, Proverbs 10:5

Today is the 19th day of February welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian it’s great to be here with you today as we round the corner here. We’re at the end of another week just about and we’ve transitioned into two new books this week and we’re getting’ moved into those and enjoying that. So, let’s…let's continue…let's continue with the journey. We’re reading from the Common English Bible this week. Leviticus chapter 7 verse 28 through 9 verse 6.

Commentary:

Okay. Let's…well…let's talk about harvest today. Jesus talked about it. And, you know, harvest…harvest is definitely a scriptural…a scriptural term that Jesus talks about, being the Lord of the harvest or sending workers, the laborers are few to go into the harvest. So, this is definitely a scriptural term but it’s…it's an agricultural term as well. We understand that seedtime and harvest that's…that's how we get our food. And, so, if you are a farmer you want to seed to go into the soil, you want it to…to yield fully to its full potential, and we understand these things. So, Jesus is talking about different kinds of soil that the seed gets planted into and depending on the kind of soil really dictates the kind of harvest. So, the seed can be awesome seed but planted in not so awesome soil it's not gonna be an awesome harvest, but good seed planted in good soil does produce a great harvest. Jesus was teaching this in a story, in story form, in parable form, as He often did. And it's easy enough, and this is a popular…popular enough parable that we sort of understand the lay of the land. And Jesus was pretty explicit in giving an interpretation of the parable that He had given. We all want that 100-fold harvest, right? We all want a bountiful harvest in our lives. Maybe we need to start thinking about gardening. Maybe this is the point in our journey through the year and our journey in life that we need to turn inward and see our heart, see our hearts as a field of soil. What kind of soil is there? Because whatever kind of soil is there is going to dictate the harvest, no matter how good the seed is. So, God is nourishing us through His word every day here as we take this journey through the Bible. This is good seed we could say, but are we, are our hearts good soil for this good seed. So, if the seed falls and cannot take roots then it’s just gonna lay there on the surface and it's gonna get snatched away. If…if our hearts are hard and stony and difficult, then there's nowhere for the seed to take root. And if we’re just distracted and anxious and full of worry or we’re just distracted and chasing other things, other desires…well…then the soil of our heart is thorny and it's gonna choke the seed out. We can understand this. We can even…we should be able to visualize this. We’ve seen rocky ground we’ve seen thorny ground. Like, we should understand this and we can even visualize how difficult it would be for a bountiful harvest to grow under those conditions. If our hearts are in that condition than they are not going to yield the bountiful harvest, we are hoping for. In other words, God’s gonna do His part here, but we have some gardening to do. We have our part. Our role to play in. And maybe it's time to dig up the stony ground and do away with the thorn bushes and make ourselves fertile and ready for anything that God wants to bring in this adventure that we call life, this dance that we are in together with Him.

Prayer:

Jesus, thank You. Thank You for this wisdom. It's very clear. It's abundantly clear. We know the hard places in our lives. We know the thorny places in our lives. We know the shallow places in our lives. And we just need help. We need You to guide us and show us how to become good soil. So, come Holy Spirit as we contemplate this, as we consider, as we meditate upon this, show us the areas in our heart that need some gardening. Come Holy Spirit we pray. In the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base, and that is indeed a website, it’s where you find out what’s going on around here in a virtual community like ours. That's where the Global Campfire burns day and night. No matter where we are in the world we can reach out. Of course, if you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app all of this is available as well. So, be familiar. If you don't have the app yet a make sure you go to your app store, get the Daily Audio Bible app and download that. And it is…it is the most comprehensive way of entering into community and moving through the Scriptures that we have. It kinda keeps track of where we are on our journey. And as we move through the different sections of the Bible we get to see that we have accomplished that section of the Bible. So, just be familiar and check that out.

Check out the community section. Of course, this can be done at the Daily Audio Bible website or in the app. Check out the Community section. That’s where the Prayer Wall is and it’s such a centerpiece, such a foundational part of who we are as a community, that we accept each other, we understand that we are all in process, that we…we…we are all under renovation, that this is a process and that we have to have an incredible amount of grace for each other. Can you imagine how much grace our Father has on any given one day for His children. So, the least we can do is offer grace to each other. And we do that so well by accepting each other where we are and being willing to just walk a stretch of road together, pray for one another, shoulder each other's burdens. And one of the places to do that is at the Prayer Wall in the Community section. So, be familiar with that.

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And that is it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

H family it's Mica I haven't called for over a year. So much as has happened I could never catch you up in about a minute and 30 seconds; however, I…I did really need you guys help. You’re the closest thing I have to a family for a long long time. And I’ve spent a year homeless and been in a domestic violence shelter and lost all my stuff add my car and I was put in jail and you name it. Right now I'm out because of an injury from work and because there's some hold up and misunderstanding about the last time I was on unemployment. I am waiting for the determination so that I can get my workman's comp and things like that because I was injured back on January 7th. I haven't been working since. I've been borrowing money from people and leaning on people and I am just tired of it. I need I…need things to go right and I need __ things to stay away from me. Most of all I…I need to be right with God again and I need a family too. Please family help me __.

Hello Daily Audio Bible family this is Natalie. I'm calling because I just wanted to leave a quick prayer for… I've been listening to a lot of the prayers of the people and I just wanted to just do a little prayer for each and every person. I may not know the name or the…where you're from but I know we are all connected in God’s family and the spirit of God is with us and…and He can intercede on our behalf. So, heavenly Father I thank You Lord this day for each and every person who's called in who had a prayer or who had a concern Father. You tell us Lord Jesus that Lord we are connected as a family and we can come boldly before Your throne to ask for mercy in our times of need oh God. Father I pray for those that are sick Lord. There was one gentleman who said he had a heart attack, and he was struggling…they diagnosed him with bipolar Father and we…we…we come against that Father because we know Lord God that You are the author and finisher of our faith and we know that by Your stripes we are healed Father and I pray for healing on those people Father God. What man says is one thing but what God says the final authority. Father I pray for those people that are struggling with their jobs, with their families, those that are not saved Lord. I ask Lord God that You Father God Lord You said that we just need to plant the seed and You would do the growing Father. Father I pray over those people Lord Jesus that have…have…have been one Young lady said that her…her Father committed suicide in December of 2020. Father I pray for peace in that family Lord Jesus. Father You said that You would work all things together for the good of those that love You and are called according to Your purpose. And, so, I pray Father God that everything that we go through in our lives, everything that she is going through and her families going through that Lord You would…You would receive the glory from at all. You said what the enemy meant for evil You will turn it around...

Hello Daily Audio Bible family this is Ethan of Ashburnham MA in the USA. I have a prayer request that I've been meaning to ask for…for a long time. I have a friend his name is Chris he's going through some sort of crisis that I won't go into detail here. He…he's walked away from Christ and truth be told I am really scared for his future. I know I shouldn't be. I'm not responsible for his future but I am. I just…without Christ there's this void in him that he's trying to fill with everything money can buy, physical items, but as we all know those don't fill us up. And also, I'm starting to become concerned that this is becoming an unhealthy relationship for me. I feel like I have to be in his life to just try and bring him back to Christ but that's not my responsibility. I shouldn't be doing that and subjecting myself. Please pray for my friend Chris. God knows who I'm talking about. He's been my dear friend for over 15 years, and he was one of the few people I thought with absolute certainty would never abandon me during a time in middle school when I thought nobody liked me. He's been one of my closest friends for over 15 years and I'm heartbroken of the way that he's becoming but I choose to trust in Christ and His strength.

Hi guys this is Margaret from Southern California. I'm calling in for Tiffany and Tony of Cleveland. Tiffany had called again asking prayer for joy after the loss of her daughter Gianna. And I remember your original first call and my heart sank because I can relate to this loss of your precious daughter. I lost my baby girl 11 years ago. She was a full-term stillborn baby girl, 9-pound beautiful baby and I delivered her still. And I know she went to heaven when she was in my tummy but at the time, I couldn't see straight for anything and I absolutely lost all joy. And I just want to encourage you guys that God has brought me alone and my husband so far these past 11 years and we truly have joy. We feel that God has done everything for us and as far as healing and mending our hearts and giving us more children after that and…but mostly I think that He's giving us a perspective of knowing that she's in heaven and we're going to be with her again. And I want to encourage you guys. Gianna, you're going to be with her again. And one day down on earth is one day closer to heaven for eternity and perfection with Jesus and I just can't wait for that day. And I just want you guys so badly to be able to experience that. And you know what, it may not be tomorrow but just keep…keep on keeping on and have that faith that the Lord will deliver you from this despair. I love you friends.

Good morning DAB family today is the 16th day of February and I'm just sitting in my car. I just finished listening to Daily Audio Bible for the 15th. Again, Brian it's just amazing listening to you. So, this is Janet from…from the UK and I'm just calling to ask for prayer for my mom. It's been 2 weeks. She's been diagnosed with breast cancer. And even though she lives in America I live in the UK I do have a sister and brother that's in the US also but they're not really active in her life and she's literally at the house by herself, but thanks be to God we do have friends that are taking care, helping to take care of her. But I’m going to try to go over to the UK. So, I'm asking for prayers, journey mercies as I leave from the UK to go to America to help take care of my mom. And I also pray for my mom because she has like diabetes and all these other stuff that…other combabilities as they call it. But I'm asking for prayer because I know I have the best…I have the best family, the most prayerful family powerful in prayer. So, I'm asking family that you help me pray that God will see us through, that He would just give us one day at a time as He normally does and that we’ll appreciate it and that my mom would be OK. Thanks family. Thank you so much for your prayers. God bless.

Hi family this is Melissa from Albertville Alabama. Brian, Jill, and Ezekiel bless you for all that you do for the body of Christ. I have a…a…a couple of prayer requests. And my sisters pastor his name is Darrell Davis his son was shot and he's not doing well, and he's developed Covid. Please pray for that family. And my nephew Elijah, I've called in several times. He has alopecia and he’s suffering from mental illness. He has left home and said he didn't want to anything to do with our family or God. He’s somewhere in California. We have no idea where he is. Please pray for him. Kingdom Seeker Daniel, Lord your call. I'm praying for you brother. I'm praying. God is so able. My sister who has metastatic breast cancer I didn't catch your name. God knows who you are. You said you had a compression fracture, I think. I'm praying for you. Jeremy Neph, please call if you can let us know how you're doing. So many calls have been so heavy on my heart. Just y'all just keep praying. Don't stop praying. God has us. I'm going through some health issues right now. I can't even go to church. But God is good. I love you family. You all keep us prayed up. Bye-bye.

[bits-bobs-and-barnes]

Coercion {Loki Laufeyson x Reader}

This is the second part to Bend the Knee, read the first part here!

{Author’s Note: I was thrilled by the response to the first part of this series, and am excited to see if the second chapter lives up to expectations! As always, if you liked the piece, make sure to like and reblog it to help my blog grow! Send me a message, or leave a comment below if you’d like to be tagged in this series, or any of my other series! Also, feel free to drop me an ask if you have any requests, or just want to show some love! Hope you enjoy!}

Warnings: mentions of murder/warfare, forced marriage, sexual thoughts

Tags:  @chonisberonica @jilldsumner @legendsaresooftenwarnings @jessiejunebug @loki-poki-foki @pandacookieowo @kneel-before-queen-loki @rjohnson1280 @mother-of-fandoms-250

Your brother was, unsurprisingly, stubborn and fought his handlers each step of the way. He snarled curses at the back of the God who led the procession, vision bleeding red as the man took your arm, leading you with tenderness, and speaking of the beauty of Asgard in the spring. 

Every few minutes, you would glance back, eyes pleading, begging him to cooperate-- for the sake of your lives. Loki was being lenient, kind even, and that could change in a moment if he grew irritated with the irate comments spewed from your brother’s lips. 

During one of these such moments, Loki touched your chin and urged you to look back to him. “Do not worry, Princess, he bothers me little. Some men cannot stomach defeat-- it is all too common in war.” He smiled warmly, and moved his hand to rest on the small of your back, guiding you forward. 

“What war?” Your brother wheezed, his eyes dark with fury. “There is no threat greater than Odin and his brood, you are nothing more than tyrants crushing weaker realms beneath your boot,” he spat with disgust, pulling against the two guards who held him in place. 

Annoyance flickered across Loki’s face as the boy interrupted him yet again, and he withdrew his hand, turning to face the shaking beast your brother had become. He gripped his bloodied chin, and forced his gaze up. “My leniency has its ends, cur, and I’ve had enough of your insufferable jibes,” releasing him, and muttering soft instructions to the handlers, who tugged your still struggling brother away from the pair of you. He turned back to you, and urged you forward with renewed vigor. 

Your eyes lingered on your brother until he was out of view, offering a silent prayer to whatever gods were still listening that he would be safe until you could negotiate his freedom.

Loki guided you through seemingly endless corridors and stunning parlors, describing each in detail that was quickly lost on you. The tour was concluded in a much larger hall, absent of the usual activity of the palace-- save for two figures at the front of the room. “My father,” Loki murmured in your ear, “and my brother,” the latter was mentioned with more irritation than reverence. 

Odin the Conqueror was less terrifying than you’d imagine. His hair had long since gone white, he was missing an eye, and he was dressed in finery-- ornate and well-decorated armor, speaking with his other son, the blond. 

Thor shamelessly admired his brother’s new prize, flashing you a predatory smile. He hardly glanced to his brother as Loki recounted their stunning victory, and the success of their conquest. He was too busy imagining the filthy things he would do when he got you alone; balling up that pretty skirt in his hands and making you weep with pleasure. 

Odin listened with interest, allowing his pride to shine through as Loki described his assault on the palace, and the recovery of two of the old King’s children-- including the beauty at his side. “You have done very well, Loki,” he complimented, gesturing for him to bring you closer. “Princess Y/N, welcome to Asgard,” he greeted cordially.

Overwhelmed, you finally spoke. “I-- thank you,” you offered lamely, wishing more than anything that you could be six again, hiding behind your mother’s skirts. It would do you no good to snarl and bite like a feral dog, you were outnumbered and outmatched, so you relied on the years of etiquette drilled into you by your tutors. “It’s quite… beautiful here,” you made no mention of the slaves that had built this beautiful palace, or the realms they’d pillaged to afford their fineries. 

Odin beamed like this was some great compliment, looking around his dazzling throne room with little humility. “I am glad that you are unharmed,” his eyes returned to you, “I… apologize for the violence you must have witnessed, I imagine it is a great weight for a girl of your age.” 

You couldn’t muster the will to offset his worries, your lips set in a tight line. 

“Your Father was a good man,” he looked slightly more solemn now, “but he had no vision. What did he hope to accomplish by defying us?” His tone implied you were not supposed to answer. “Your people are strong, proud, even farmers took up arms to protect your family-- that loyalty, it cannot be bought.” He leaned forward on his throne, as though he was explaining something complicated to a child. “You are their leader now, and they look to you for guidance.” 

You were confused, and it showed. 

Loki was in your ear almost immediately, “speak, Princess,” he urged, “you are safe here.” 

“I don’t understand,” you admitted, feeling a chill shoot up your spine as Loki’s lips brushed against your ear, “my kingdom is yours, isn’t it? Am I not your prisoner?” 

Odin laughed deeply, and leaned back to his usual posture. “Did you explain nothing to this poor girl, Loki?” He teased, standing now, and approaching you, standing before you as a God, a King, and a legend. 

Loki’s hand retreated out of respect, and he stood back, carefully watching the exchange. “Our time together was short, father.” He offered curtly, in defense of himself.

“Indeed,” Odin agreed, ignoring his son’s tone, and admiring you at closer distance. “Commonfolk do not trust their conquerors. They trust what they know, who they know-- and you are beloved in your kingdom.” 

It was not untrue. Your father had ruled for centuries, and had a reputation for being just, kind, and fair. With your extended lifespan, your Father had taught you many things, but above all-- that you must use your station to help those beneath you. With this in mind, you frequently would leave your palace to walk among the common folk, and help what you could. A little gold here, some food there, and within a few decades, you were adored by the common folk as the sweet Princess who would take the bread from her table and split it with the servants who served her. 

You didn’t respond, waiting for him to make his meaning clear. 

“Your Father had many allies, and if they see you submit to being part of my greater empire, they will follow,” he explained, “your father was respected, and as his daughter, you have more influence than you realize. Asgard seeks an alliance with the newly appointed Queen.”

You could almost scoff. After murdering your family and destroying your palace, now they wanted an alliance. “I cannot offer anything of value that you do not already possess,” you stated politely, with an edge to your tone. “And my people are not so easily tricked.” 

Loki smothered a smile, but kept any words from his lips, knowing that this moment was crucial. 

“You could offer yourself,” Thor chimed in from near the throne, finally freeing himself from his lustful thoughts. “Isn’t that all you have?” He spoke as though it was as simple as exchanging coin for beer, and not willingly putting yourself in shackles.

Loki rolled his eyes, stepping forward until his hand returned to its former position on your spine. “What my brother means to say, is that we seek an alliance through marriage. Myself, or my brother would wed you, and rule beside you-- ensuring Odin’s will in enforced. You would be there,” he searched for the word, “to ease people's worries, and your duties would remain nearly the same as they are now.” 

“It would be a smoother transition than appointing a new ruler,” Odin offered logically, “and you would be treated very well, provided you remain cooperative.” 

“And if I refuse?” You could hear yourself speaking, but your mind was blank with rage and anguish, “If I don’t want to be your puppet Queen?”

Loki stiffened imperceptibly behind you. His father was benevolent… to a point, but he did not tolerate disrespect-- especially from a captive. “I’m sure your brother would rather you took the offered choice,” he interjected, “it is rather generous, for a woman in your position.” 

Odin’s smile had disappeared, and he was left with a much stiffer expression. “But I suppose, in the end, it is your fate.” His voice was cool and unimpressed, and like this, you could see where the tales had emerged. This was the man who would slaughter entire bloodlines for a few more miles of territory, the man who had ordered your father killed, the man who’d spared you to suit another scheme. 

What choice did you have? If you refused, your sacrifice would be for nothing-- your brother would die, and your people would suffer under Odin’s regime. If you submitted, if you served him-- at least you could protect those that you loved. At least you could save your brother, protect your people from some cruelty. “And my brother will remain unharmed?” You asked, your voice on the edge of a whisper. 

“He will be kept to a cell, but unharmed,” Loki promised, inwardly thrilled by the lack of resistance in your tone. “On my honor, Princess.” It was one of the sweeter things in the world, submission. 

Odin watched you expectantly, his temper waning as you had rescinded your barbed tongue. It would be unfortunate, after all the trouble it took to bring you here, to have to kill you now. Wasteful, even. 

“If everything you say is true,” you straighten your posture and tried to emulate your mother, trying to present more of a presence, “then I have no reason to refuse,” you concluded judiciously. 

Odin smiled, and clasped his hands together as though he were proud of you for drawing an obvious conclusion. “Very well then,” he glanced back to Thor, and then to Loki, “there is only one matter left at hand,” his tone was anticipant, “which of you should be her husband.” 

[lilithsgayadoptednephew]

Holy Hands

Fandoms: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!   Not Rated Graphic Depictions Of Violence F/M, Other Complete Work

Master List

Chapter 9

The transition to the Devildom was easy seeing as they already lived there. Now they were preparing to never leave. The house of Lamentation was marked as their permanent address, they were enrolled in RAD indefinitely, and the brothers were more than happy to have them.

It was nice, for the first time in years they didn't have to scrounge and save and pool their money just to afford to live another month. Acacia took up the things she had to quit on Earth. She did theatre, played the violin, joined the anime club and the D&D club. She was thriving and MC couldn't be more thrilled.

MC was especially relieved by the new living arrangement. They'd started so many projects they couldn't finish because they were so busy trying to make enough money for groceries. Now they could go back to school full-time, they could have a social life and have time to spend alone on their passion projects. They could just live in the knowledge that Acacia was flourishing and everything was going to be ok. Like finally coming to land after years at sea, the relief was euphoric.

Although there was never truly peace in the house full of rambunctious devil-boys, peaceful was the only way to describe the routine they all fell into.

It was an equally peaceful night when MC was taking their nightly walk through the halls of the house of Lamentation. They valued the time they had alone to think, to reflect. And it was during this time that the most peculiar of sounds came to them. A soft singing on the very edge of their consciousness.

Walk to me

Walk to me

Then it was gone.

The next night as they walked they heard it again.

Walk to me

Walk to me

Walk to me paidí

Walk to me"

And that was it.

On the third night…

Walk to me

Walk to me

zitíste tin klironomiá sas

zitíste tin klironomiá sas

Walk to me paidí

Walk to me now

They found themself taking an unusual route, one they'd never taken before.

Walk to me

Walk to me

Walk to me

zitíste tin klironomiá sas

Walk to me

Walk to me

zitíste tin klironomiá sas

Closer tóra

Walk to me paidí

Closer tóra

Walk to me now

They dug their heels into the carpet of the hallway to stop themself from following any further. Through their head flashed memories of a mysterious voice calling out for them in the night. A voice begging for help, begging them to follow.

And the same voice laughing as they gasped their final breaths.

They stopped taking walks after that.

For a few weeks this helped, they didn't hear the voice if they went to bed early enough, and they could live their life as usual. Acacia had no idea what it could mean and suggested they see an otolaryngologist.

Unfortunately the voice was persistent. It found its way through the halls and through the door to MC's room. Seeping through the cracks in the walls to reach their ears and drive them mad.

Walk to me

Walk to me

Walk to me

Walk to me!

zitíste tin klironomiá sas!

Walk to me!!

Walk to me!!

It grew louder, unbearably so.

zitíste tin klironomiá sas!!

Closer tóra!!

Walk to me paidí!!

Closer tóra!!

Walk to me now!!

WALK TO ME NOW!!

They tried earplugs and headphones and pillows but the voice permeated their skull and bounced around in their head.

ZITÍSTE TIN KLIRONOMIÁ SAS!!

CLOSER TÓRA!!!

WALK TO ME PAIDÍ!!

CLOSER TÓRA!!!

WALK TO ME NOW!!

Inescapable was it's echo.

They ran through the halls as it continued its relentless assault.

WALK TO ME PAIDÍ!!

"What?! What do you want?!" They shouted at the sky, "I won't follow you! I won't be tricked again! Leave me alone!!" They cried desperately, hands squeezing the sides of their head. It felt like it might crack open at any moment from the inescapable sound.

"MC…? Are you ok?"

Beelzebub looked over the mountain of midnight snacks he was carrying to see a frightened and panting MC. His question had dampened the noise for now, but how long?

"No...I don't think I am. Beel I'm hearing voices." They admitted.

In a flash he downed the snacks and approached the frazzled human.

"Voices? Like...in your head?" He asked.

"Yeah, just like back when I used to hear Belphie. Only this voice is singing...and it's just so loud I can't…" the usually well articulated human struggled to compose their words over the cacophony in their head. "It wants me to follow…" they finally got out.

"Then follow it," Beel shrugged.

"But...but what if it's a trap?" They gave Beel a pointed look and the demon got the underlying reference.

"Belphie didn't mean to trick you, he just...didn't really know you." He defended.

"Still, I'm in no hurry to repeat that mistake." Beel flinched and MC instantly felt bad about their choice of words.

"How about this" Beel pondered, "you follow the voice and I follow you. If there's anything dangerous I'll just eat it, ok?" He smiled like he'd solved everything.

Dagnabbit this man was too cute.

"Ok...but only to get this noise to go away." They conceded.

So they followed the song, and Beel walked beside them. Never judging or complaining, just following. The longer they followed the more tolerable the song became. A nice sound instead of a garish one. Perhaps because they were no longer fighting it.

After what seemed like hours of walking, they came to an unfamiliar door. They both stopped and stared before Beel spoke up.

"We can't go in there, no one's allowed in there."

MC heard the song once more.

zitíste tin klironomiá sas

Walk to me paidí

móno eseís boreíte na eisélthete

Closer tóra

Walk to me paidí

Walk to me now

"What is this place?"

"It's where Diavolo keeps his stuff he doesn't want to lose" Beel answered, cleaning out one of his ears with a pinky finger. "Lucifer gets really mad if we go in there"

afíste tin frourá sas stin pórta

móno eseís boreíte na eisélthete

Walk to me paidí

Walk to me now

"I have to go in."

"Wow you're really crazy, I wouldn't risk it."

"Well good cause she said you can't come with me"

"She?" Beel looked down at MC quizzically. MC thought for a moment.

"Yeah, she." They confirmed. "I've got to see this through now that we've come so far."

"Ok...I'll guard the door then" he relented. MC reached for the handle. "Wait MC"

"Hm?"

He hesitated. "If you need anything...just yell ok? I'll come runnin'" he promised. MC nodded once and opened the door.

"I will"

0The room was dark as they shut the door behind them. They walked slowly on bare feet through the forbidden room. It was quiet in a way they didn't want to disturb. The voice had quieted to a whisper as well.

Walk to me

Walk to me

zitíste tin klironomiá sas

Walk to me

They followed the voice through another door.

And another.

They felt like they were going through a maze. Each room leading to another, all piled high with treasures. Not gold or jewels, but old scrolls and weapons and goblets. Each one labeled and in its proper place. All of them seemed to radiate power and history. The whole place reminded them of the cave of wonders from Aladdin.

Needless to say they touched nothing.

Still the voice persisted until finally they pushed through the last door. This room was filled with objects from the Celestial realm. Golden Lyres and silver plate armour. Gleaming statues and intricate tapestries hung among beautiful paintings. MC was awestruck by the sights. There was one more thing that caught their eye.

In the center of the back wall hung a huge golden bow.

It's shape was simple but the handle was carved with ornate, winding runes and symbols they didn't recognize. The string looked like it was made of light. It glowed white, brilliant. As they had expected, the voice called them closer to it.

Moving until they were a step away from the breathtaking weapon, they held out their hand to it, only to pull it away quickly when they realized what they were doing.

"I am not stealing from Lord Diavolo. Contrary to popular belief, I don't have a death wish." They spoke firmly.

The voice no longer sang, it spoke.

"You cannot steal what is yours paidí"

MC was suspicious now. Theirs? But there was no way they'd ever owned something this nice, much less a weapon. And the voice seemed oddly familiar... perhaps?

"Lilith?" They spoke to the voice. It did not respond for a long time.

"yes" she seemed reluctant to reveal herself.

"So...it's been you this whole time?"

"Why do you hate me?"

MC was taken off guard. That was out of left field.

"I don't hate you."

"Yes you do, you despise me and you despise being my decedent." She sounded genuinely hurt, like she'd cry any moment.

"I…" MC had no response, they wouldn't lie.

"Please...save me your pity. You have good reason to hate me after all my mistakes have put you through. But I want you to know that I love you." She cooed.

MC cringed away from the over-familiarity of the sound.

"You are too far removed from me to truly be mine but I love you MC. Like my own flesh." She continued, "and I want you to have this." Her voice indicated to the bow again.

MC ran their hand down the flawless gold all the way to the grip.

"This was yours... wasn't it?"

"It was taken from me along with my wings when I was struck to Earth forever. Now it is yours, it is your birthright." Her voice held a tone beyond pride at the thought of MC accepting the gift. She was practically quivering in excitement to share this little piece of legacy with them.

They looked at the weapon critically. It was beautiful no doubt, but in their hands it would be useless.

"I don't know how to use a bow." They confessed.

"Take it." She urged, not seeming to hear MC. With a shrug they picked up the bow by the handle. The stand latch released and the bow came free with ease. The huge weapon felt remarkably balanced. That's when a flash of light knocked MC to the floor. Eliciting a frightened yelp.

The glow lasted a few more seconds before the bow was gone. They were confused for a moment before raising their hand to their ear. In the reflective surface of a nearby shield they saw it. In their ear was a brand new earring. Shaped like a golden bow it spanned the entire outer lobe up to the helix. They stared in awe at the tasteful jewelry form the bow had taken.

"Call upon it if you are ever in danger again. It is your weapon now, and it will not fail you." She instructed.

"But…" MC questioned, "didn't it fail you all those years ago?"

Lilith seemed to laugh at the notion.

"No child...it is I who failed"

And with that her presence was gone.

The silence was welcome after days of suffering. Unfortunately it was quickly broken by a loud bang. The door to the room flung open and Beel burst through. Full demon form.

"MC! Is everything ok? I heard you yell!"

MC stared back from their spot in front of the bow holder. They had some explaining to do.

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

paidí (παιδί) zitíste tin klironomiá sas (ζητήστε την κληρονομιά σας) tóra (τώρα) móno eseís boreíte na eisélthete (μόνο εσείς μπορείτε να εισέλθετε) afíste tin frourá sas stin pórta (αφήστε την φρουρά σας στην πόρτα)

[lovemesomerafael]

Others Like Me                                Chapter 6:  The Compound

Chapters 1-5   Read it on AO3

Bucky has a hard time adjusting to calling Marya by her name, but he’s determined never to call her “Eight” again.  That was never a name.  It was a dehumanizing designation and he’s not going to use it even one more time, if he can stop himself.  Everyone else seems to make the transition easily, and Bucky thinks that’s a combination of not having known her as long as he has, and not wanting to call her “Eight” any more than he does.

Steve’s being careful.  He’s entirely confident now that Marya is who she says she is, because Natasha is satisfied of that, and that’s good enough for Steve.  But in the Compound, he’s not letting Marya have any weapons, or access to anything sensitive, until further notice.  She’s unhappy about being unarmed, given her discomfort with being in a new and potentially extremely hostile environment, but she’s also been a soldier from childhood, with obedience literally beaten into her.  

Bucky’s trying to keep Steve at arm’s length after what’s happened between them, which is insanely difficult for about a million reasons.  No one else probably notices anything out of the ordinary – they’ve been struggling for a long time – but Steve’s longing stares have a renewed intensity matched only by Bucky’s determination to return to the easy brotherhood they once had, before they admitted their love for one another.

Bruce wants Marya to be wheeled into the Compound on the gurney but, when she complains, she gets support from everyone else on the plane.

“Quit bein’ such a mother hen,” Sam tells Bruce affectionately.  

“Even mother hens let their chicks walk by themselves,” Natasha adds, then says in an aside to Marya in Russian, “He’s a man.  He thinks we’d need as much time to recover as these boys would.”

“Isn’t he a doctor?”  Marya asks her.  “Doesn’t he know how much tougher women are than men?”

“Some of us speak Russian, you know,” Bucky mutters, trying to seem offended.  

It’s the last light moment for a while, because Marya’s back to being afraid. Bucky expected that, and plans to stick close to her until she feels comfortable.  He knows how terrifying new places and situations are for people like them when they’re unprepared, and he remembers his own introduction to the Compound. He finds himself charmed and gratified at the way Marya glues herself to his side, walking and standing just behind him but so close that he can feel her.  

As soon as they arrive, everyone scatters to their own areas of the Compound. Steve tells Bucky to put Marya in rooms near his, which Bucky knows will sound to Marya as though he’s trying to make her comfortable by letting her be near Bucky.  But Bucky knows better.  The truth is, Steve’s own rooms are adjacent to Bucky’s, which means Steve will be in a good position to keep a close eye on Marya himself.  

Bucky points out features of the place on their way: the kitchen, the common areas, the training building.  Marya’s on extreme alert, but she unconsciously shows her trust in him by holding his hand, which he finds he really likes, in a protective if slightly egotistical way.  When they reach the area where his and Steve’s rooms are, Bucky shows her which doors are theirs, before opening the door to the rooms where she’ll be staying.  She’s interested in everything, and her expression says she likes the rooms, but the first thing she says is, “I’ll be so far away from you.  From everyone.”  

“I know, and I know you won’t like that at first.  But maybe you’ll find that you like privacy.”

“Maybe.  I’ll try.”

There’s a commotion in the hallway outside.  He turns toward the sound and hears, “Barnes, I’m gonna kill you for-“

There’s a flash of movement past him and a thud in the hallway.  Bucky sighs, knowing what he’s going to find as he takes the several steps to the door and looks out.

Marya’s straddling Tony Stark, her forearm hard across his throat and a knife held in her hand with the point about two inches from his left eye. Tony, being Tony, has an eyebrow raised and an otherwise bland expression on his face.  

“Nice to meet you, Marya.”

“Let him up,” Bucky says sharply.

She keeps her eyes bored into Tony’s, and doesn’t move except to tilt her head slightly toward Bucky.  “Why?”

“Because that’s Tony Stark.”

She still doesn’t move.  “He said he was going to kill you.”

“He says that a lot.”

“He’s got weapons on him.  They’re… weird, but they’re weapons.”

Bucky can see that Tony’s good humor is quickly evaporating, which he kind of can’t blame him for, knifepoint at his eye and all.  He doesn’t want things to get any worse.  If she’s going to work with The Avengers, she’s going to need to be on good terms with Tony.

“Soblyuday, Soldat,” he growls.  He feels a little guilty about using such a loaded command, but he’s relieved to see it has the intended effect.  

She immediately flicks the knife back into the sheath in her sleeve where it had been hidden and stands, gracefully using her momentum to pull Tony up with her. But she’s not happy about it.  She keeps Tony fully in her sight as she turns a glare on Bucky.

“You’re not supposed to have a knife,” Bucky says to her with disapproval.

“THAT’S the problem you see here?”  Tony shrieks.

“Relax, Tony.  She’s just nervous.”

“Then let her fidget or talk nonsense, like the rest of us.”

There’s a tense silence as Tony glowers at Bucky and Bucky tries to think of something to say to defuse the situation.  To both of their surprise, Marya gets there first.  

“I owe you an apology, Mr. Stark,” she says, in an oddly stilted way as if she’s reciting lines.  “I overreacted, and I’m sorry.  I hope I haven’t hurt you.  It won’t happen again.”

Tony looks from Marya to Bucky.  

“In her defense,” Bucky tells him, “She only tackles people when she first meets them. Once she knows you, she’s very polite.”

“I often regret not killing you,” Tony says to Bucky in an offhand tone that’s almost fond.  He then turns to Marya.

“Apology accepted.  I like a girl with spirit.  I am going to have to ask you for that knife, though.”

She quickly, though reluctantly, takes it out and hands it to him, handle first.

“A few house rules,” Tony says, in his usual rapid-fire style.  “First, no attacking the host.  That’d be me.  Defend me, by all means.  And you’re welcome to attack this one at will.”  He motions toward Bucky.  “Second, if Cap gives you an order, you follow it.  He says no weapons, that means no weapons.  You with me so far?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Tony looks toward Bucky.  “You hear that?  ’Yes, Sir’. I already like her better than you.”

Bucky smirks.

“Third, if anyone catches you anywhere you’re not supposed to be, they have orders to kill you on sight.  That might strike you as a little rude, and I suppose it is, but no one’s ever accused me of being socially acceptable, and you did just knock me down and stick a knife in my face, so I think we’re even.  Are we clear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Oh, I could so get used to that,” Tony gushes to Bucky, then turns around and begins to walk away.  “One more thing,” he says, holding up a finger and turning back toward Marya.  “I understand you have a couple of Hydra’s toys, and that you understand how they work.”

“Yes.”

“We’ll talk.”  With that, Tony spins back around and strides rapidly back down the hallway.

 The next week is hard on both Bucky and Marya.  One of the reasons is their rapidly escalating impatience.  Nothing seems to be happening.  Marya thinks constantly of her ‘brothers and sisters’ in the bunker, and can’t stand the idea that they might think she isn’t coming back for them.  Bucky, too, is thinking of them.  He doesn’t know them, so he can’t care about them personally the way that she does. But he knows enough.  He knows what he endured.  He knows that he cannot and will not leave them there.  

Bucky’s also having nightmares like he hasn’t had since he first escaped Hydra and went to ground in Bucharest.  He’s hollow-eyed and haggard, and he dreads the nights.  Sometimes he wakes up soaked in cold sweat, tangled in his sheets.  Those are the good nights.  It’s the nights he wakes up screaming, stabbing at nothing and terrified almost to madness, that have him wondering whether it’s all worth it.  

Sam tells him it’s a good thing.  Miserable, agonizing, but a sign of progress.  A sign that meeting Marya has helped him to be able to approach a well of memories and emotions he wasn’t ready to even acknowledge before.  Bucky hopes so, because he feels like he’s drowning.

One night, he dreams he’s back in captivity, looking at a circle of flunkies aiming weapons at him while shithead Pierce spews megalomaniacal vitriole disguised as patriotism at him.  He sees Rumlow, drooling and sprouting wood at the idea of what’s about to happen to him. Bucky’s aching for Pierce to shut up, but at the same time desperate for him to continue so that what’s coming next won’t happen.  But it does. He feels the clamps, then the unbearable torment, like every nerve in his brain is being torn out separately and at the same time, and he wakes up, screaming and clawing at his head, bolt upright in his bed dripping with sweat.  

He sees his shadowy room, and knows he’s safe in the Compound.  He knows he’s going to blow that fucking bunker to kingdom come if it’s the last thing he does.  He’s with The Avengers now.  He’s not alone.  He’s Bucky again.  He’s not The Asset or whatever the fuck he was back then.  But he also knows that he was that person.  He did those things.  That was real, and it happened, and it’s never going away.  For the first time in a very long time, Bucky covers his face with his hands and cries.  

That’s when he hears the soft rustle of fabric, and a whisper from the corner of his bedroom.  

“Sergeant?”

He startles, but recognizes her voice.  “Marya?  What the hell?”

She steps away from the wall where she’s been standing and crosses silently to sit next to him.  

“I’m here.  Can I touch you?”

“Why are you… I…”  

His surprise quickly drains away and, as it does, his despair returns.  He hiccups and she reaches out, tentatively, to touch his metal shoulder.  Bucky realizes that he wants nothing more than to let go.  To give way, just this once, to the wretched tide of pain and grief and guilt and shame that will engulf him if he lets it.  He knows how strong Marya is.  As she turns to put a knee on the bed and shift herself so she’s kneeling next to him, he knows that the arms she wraps him with are sculpted with well-defined, hard muscle, and that she’s pulling him to her because she can take his weight, and the weight of his anguish.  So he leans into her and lets his arms fall weakly to her waist.  He lets her pull his head to her shoulder and starts to sob as she strokes his hair.

Once he starts, he can’t stop.  He’s afraid sometimes that he’ll never catch his breath as he’s overtaken with wracking, shuddering cries that tear themselves from his throat.  But he doesn’t fight it.  He lets it have him.  He leans on her with his whole weight, letting her keep him upright.  He soaks the soft cotton nightshirt she’s wearing with his tears and probably snot and spit, too.  He doesn’t care and she doesn’t even appear to notice.  She just holds him, rocking him sometimes, stroking his back and arms and hair, kissing his head, his forehead, his cheeks and lips, murmuring soft endearments and comforting words in Russian and English.

It’s got to be an hour before his wails and sobs even begin to slow down into weeping.  And he weeps for at least another hour.  She’s crying, too, sometimes as hard as he is, but the whole time, she’s supporting and sustaining him, keeping him safe as he falls entirely apart and stays that way for hours.  

Finally, Bucky’s completely worn out, drained of every bit of energy and strength he had.  All of the filth and suffering inside him has, for the moment, been exorcised.  She lays him down, covering him with the sheet and cradling his head to her chest.  She wraps both arms and legs around him and he falls asleep clinging to her.

 In the morning, he wakes up alone.  He knows it happened, because his eyes are swollen and sore, and he can catch the faintest scent of her hair on his pillows.  He doesn’t know quite how to feel about that.  He’s grateful to her for allowing him the privacy to figure it out, before he sees her.  

But it doesn’t take long.  In the shower, he thinks through his dream, and the fact that she was there in his room, and her unflinching acceptance in the presence of his staggering, overpowering grief and rage, and he knows exactly how he feels.  He feels grateful.  He feels honored.  He feels loved.  And he feels love.

He’s disappointed when he finds that she’s not in her rooms.  He was hoping to have the opportunity to see her alone, to talk about what happened.  He needs to try to thank her, although he knows he’ll never be able to find the words to tell her how grateful he is.  

He thinks about Steve, and Bucky’s already-raw emotions register instantly a sense of guilt that he’s shared with Marya, a woman he barely knows, all the things that he hasn’t been able to let his lifelong best friend see.  The things that Steve’s been begging Bucky to trust him with.  Bucky knows why it happened that way: Marya is who Bucky is.  If Steve lives for another hundred years, he still won’t be able to understand what’s been inside of Bucky the way that she can.  But Bucky also knows that he will have to take that knowledge to his grave.  Steve would be destroyed to know that Marya could give Bucky something he couldn’t, and Bucky’s not going to do that to him.

 In the large kitchen, everyone’s just finishing breakfast, sipping coffee and enjoying some camaraderie before going on to whatever they have planned for their days.  Bucky sees Marya, sitting at a table with Clint and listening to him explain something about his bow.  He grins, because he knows Clint must be ecstatic.  No one else wants to hear him go on and on about what it can do, but Marya seems enthralled.  She looks up at Bucky, and they share a small smile and a nod.

Steve’s sitting with Tony, just watching Bucky like a lion watching a particularly tasty-looking gazelle, when Tony sees him.

“Good morning.  Catching up on our beauty sleep, are we?”

Bucky grunts a greeting and pours a cup of coffee.

“Bad news, Barnes,” Natasha says from the other side of the table where she’s reading some sort of printouts.  “Not only didn’t it work, but we ate all the bacon.”

“Assholes,” Bucky mutters, and begins to take inventory of his breakfast options. It’s not long before Marya crosses the room to do something at the oven behind Bucky, then steps up beside him.  She holds out a plate heaped with food, including a respectable amount of bacon.  Bucky takes the plate automatically, and feels that it’s warm. He smiles wide, not only because of the gesture, but also because she looks adorably pleased with herself.

Clint’s offended shout cuts through the moment.  “Hey!  You said there was no more bacon!”

“I’m sorry,” Marya says apologetically to him as she returns to join him at the table.  “I guess I don’t know the rules about bacon.”

When Clint looks away, Marya gives Bucky a secret wink.  He’s delighted.  

“Unpredictable and overly violent, but loyal,” Tony mutters to Natasha. “Shit.  Now there are two of them.”  Natasha smirks at her papers.

Steve crushes the coffee cup he’s holding in his hand, and there’s minor commotion as people scramble out of the way of the spill and try to outdo each other making fun of him.

After a while, people start to excuse themselves to start their days.  Clint’s gone to the training building, leaving Bucky and Marya sitting together, a bit apart from the others.  On the way out of the room, Tony says to Marya, “Come to my lab later.”

She goes instantly from relaxed and cheerful to rigid and bristling with fear.

“Gizmos,” Bucky says quickly, putting a hand on her arm.  “Remember?  It’s not that kind of lab.  He makes electronic gadgets.”  

Bucky looks daggers at Tony, who shrugs and says nonchalantly, “Yeah.  I only experiment on myself.  We’re just gonna take a look at that Hydra technology.” He looks at Bucky then.  “You come, too, to make sure she doesn’t do anything.”

“Jeez, Tony, she’s sitting right here.”

“You know I have no manners, right, Marya?”

“Yes, Sir,” she says in a small voice, not looking at him.

It takes a while for Marya’s terror to bleed off, and Bucky’s aggravation with Tony lasts even longer.  

Steve leaves the kitchen then, not having said a word to Bucky, and he and Marya find themselves alone in the room.

“Thank you,” Bucky says, hoping she can hear the weight he’s putting into the words.

“You’re welcome.  I don’t know whether you’re talking about last night or this morning, but the answer’s the same.”

“I was talking about last night, but I gotta say, saving me some breakfast is pretty great, too.”

He likes her pleased smile.  

“I don’t really want to make a joke about it, though.  You bein’ there, letting me… vent, I guess, that was…” He’s been practicing how to say it, and still he gets tangled up in the words.  “It helped me so much, and I just want you to know how much it means to me.”

“I’m glad if I could help.  I’ve hated seeing you in such pain.”

“It’s been that obvious, huh?”

It’s been a while since Bucky’s seen Marya’s perplexed look, but she’s wearing it now.  “Yes. You’ve been thrashing, and shouting, and…”

“What are you…  When?”

“Every night since we’ve been here.”

“Are you telling me you’ve been in my room every night?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you sleep?”

“Not very well.  It’s too quiet, and-“

Bucky grins a little.  “You’re cold.”

“Yes. The first night, I thought I heard you, and it didn’t sound good, so I went to make sure you were all right.  When I saw that you were having bad dreams, I worried about you.  So I started coming in, so I’d be there if you needed me.”

“Wasn’t my door locked?”

“Yes.”

Bucky would laugh at that if he wasn’t such a wreck.  “So you just watched me sleep?”

“No. I slept, too.”

“Standing in the corner of my room?”

“Sitting.”

Bucky realizes he isn’t really very surprised by this.   He takes Marya’s hand and kisses it.  “That isn’t necessary.  But thank you.”

“It feels necessary,” she says.  “I love you.”

It’s a straight, simple declaration, just like the time she told him in Lucerne that she wanted to have sex with him, and Bucky’s thunderstruck.  Not knowing what to say or do, he squeezes her hand and kisses it again, longer this time.  

“We should go to Mr. Stark’s lab,” Marya says softly.

 The seeming chaos in Tony’s lab has always been incomprehensible and vaguely threatening to Bucky.  Marya, on the other hand, is wearing an impossibly wide grin, and takes it all in with hungry, enchanted eyes.  Tony’s asked them to give him a second, he’s having trouble with something and he thinks he’s just about there.  Apparently, he’s not, because he keeps swearing.  

After five minutes of slowly circling the huge room, eyes wide with wonder and interest, Marya steps behind Tony to see what he’s looking at through the powerful magnifier.  It’s some kind of microcircuitry in a machine whose purpose Bucky can’t even guess at, but she’s intrigued.

Tony swears again and Bucky sees a tiny puff of smoke stream lazily out from where Tony’s working.  

“That connector’s backward,” Marya murmurs.

Tony turns on her angrily.  “What?”

She steps quickly away, reflexively taking a defensive stance and looking afraid. She doesn’t repeat what she’s said, just watches every movement Tony makes as he scowls at her and shoos her away. She hastens to Bucky’s side, standing just behind him and leaning just the tiniest bit into him.  

Tony works for a while longer while they just watchfully wait for him to acknowledge them again.  He pulls the tools he’s using away from the machine and it starts to do… something. He swears again and gives Marya another dirty look.  

“Connector was backward.”  

Bucky’s relieved to note that Marya wisely doesn’t respond.  

The conversation that follows is wide-ranging and mostly incomprehensible to Bucky, but he’s always liked futuristic gadgets and gizmos, and it’s entertaining.  The part that really catches his attention, though, is when they begin to talk about Bucky’s arm, and the fact that it was Marya who disabled it on the plane when they’d first abducted him.

“How did you know how to do that?”  Tony asks, half fascinated and half seriously annoyed.  

“I didn’t.  But I looked, and it seemed like if I disconnected those two components, it wouldn’t work anymore.”

“Hmm. And how’d you fix it?”

“I didn’t fix it.  I made a patch that would stick on the outside to draw the components back together again.  It was the best I could do, and I guess I forgot to go back and repair it.”

“Well, let’s do that now, shall we?”

It doesn’t escape Bucky’s attention that Marya was terrified to come into this lab for fear she’d be experimented on, and he’d reassured her that wouldn’t happen.  Now he’s the one sitting obediently while they mess around with his arm and talk in one of the few languages Bucky doesn’t speak.  It’s a long morning.

That night, Bucky again finds himself dreading the prospect of going to sleep. He finds things to do, including having a fairly heated discussion with Steve about why they’re still not planning a raid on the Hydra bunker in Siberia.  Eventually, though, he’s the only one still up, and he decides it’s time to quit procrastinating.

In the hallway outside his door, he makes a decision.  He goes to Marya’s door, instead, and knocks.  She’s wearing soft, grey leggings and a tank top made of the same material, which do nothing but accentuate the shape of her strong, graceful body and the obvious fact that she’s not wearing a bra.

“Are you all right, Sergeant?”  She waves him in, but he stays where he is.

“I just wanted to tell you to stay here.  Get some real sleep.  I appreciate everything you’ve been doing, but you don’t need to.  I’ll feel better knowing you’re here, comfortable, and not just hanging out in the corner waiting for me to have a nightmare.”

Marya looks hurt and a little confused.  “I’m sorry if I did the wrong thing.  You said people like privacy, so I shouldn’t have-“

“No. It’s not that at all.  I understand what you did, and I appreciate it. More than you know.  The thing is, I want you to be comfortable.  You can’t just be watching over me all the time.”

“I understand.”

The look on her face is tearing at Bucky.  “No, you don’t.  I’m not mad…” He can’t not take her into his arms when she’s looking down with her shoulders slumped like that.  

She hugs him back, but he can feel her uncertainty.  After what she did for him, after all she’s done for him, and what they’ve been through together…  “Marya, I’m sorry.  I’m a chump when it comes to words.  I’m trying to be nice to you.  Maybe we could…”

Suddenly, the way forward is clear and easy.  “What if you sleep with me?  That way you can be comfortable, and you’ll probably sleep better than in here, anyway. And if – when – I have a nightmare, you’ll be there.”

She looks a little happier, but still uncertain.  “But Natasha said it’s too intimate.”

Bucky kisses her.  Intimately. “She was right.  I know you don’t really associate sex and sleeping with eachother, but…  we could do both.  If you want.”

That gets the look Bucky was aiming for.  He takes his arms from around her but keeps hold of her hand as he leads her out of her door and to his.  

When they’re lying together on his bed, mouths tasting and exploring, this seems to Bucky like the best idea he’s had in a long time.  The almost-shy, vaguely hesitant way she’s touching him, though, raises a question that he’s been wanting to ask since he first noticed how beautiful she is.  

Bucky lifts up from Marya’s lips and slides a hand down to cover her breast as he looks into her eyes.  “Do you… know what comes next?”

She arches up when he begins to tease her nipple with the tips of his fingers, but doesn’t break eye contact.  “I think so.”

Bucky tilts his head in inquiry.

“We were children.  No one told us anything.  But then we got older and we… figured things out.  I don’t know whether we guessed right, though.”

Bucky chuckles at that.  “I’d bet a lot of money that you got it right.  It’s pretty instinctive.”

“Show me,” she breathes.  “I’ll tell you if we got it right.”

Bucky smiles and goes back to kissing her, enjoying the way she seems to respond to his tongue, and then try to repeat what he does.  It’s bliss to finally get his hands on her bare breasts, and he yanks her tank top over her head at the first opportunity.  The moan she makes at that goes straight to his cock, which she’s fondling gently.  Too gently. He takes her hand and presses it into him, thrusting against it.  He feels her smile.

She makes a tiny, frustrated noise when he pulls out of her reach to scoot down further in the bed, but she seems to feel better about things when he takes one of her breasts into his mouth.  Bucky’s a sucker for sounds of pleasure, and Marya doesn’t hold back. He’s very surprised that, rather than find it funny when she calls him “Sergeant” as she’s exclaiming at how much she likes what he’s doing, he finds it ridiculously erotic.  Just another of the endless variety of ways he’s fucked up, Bucky guesses.  This one doesn’t bother him too much.

She cooperates enthusiastically as he pulls her leggings and panties from her, and gasps – actually gasps – when he touches her.  “You all right?”  He asks around a mouthful of her nipple.

“Yes, that’s just…  feels so good…”  

Bucky gets a little worried when he slides a finger inside her and she stops breathing.  He lifts his head.  “Marya?”

“Yes?”

“Everything OK?”

“Oh, yes!”  She’s breathing now.  Panting actually.

“You just… I thought you were holding your breath there for a second.”

“I was concentrating.”

Bucky laughs.  He really likes that answer.  

“But…”

He doesn’t like the “but”.  

“What’s wrong?”

“You have all your clothes on.  I want to take them off.”

Whew. Bucky crawls back up so they’re lying face to face again.  “Be my guest.”

With a happy sigh, Marya takes hold of Bucky’s layered shirts and pulls. When the shirts are lying on the floor, she spends a long moment just breathing hard and marveling at his chest. “You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” she whispers, touching him in reverent strokes with the tips of her fingers, as though not sure she’s allowed to.  It’s mesmerizing.  Bucky just lets her admire him, watching her face and doing his own appreciative gazing at her chest.  

Eventually, one of her awed caresses ends at the button of his jeans.  She looks at his face.  “Can I…?”

“Yes. I want you to.”

Once she gets his jeans off, Marya spends another mini-eternity admiring Bucky’s lower half.  He has to grit his teeth to maintain control as she touches his cock like it’s a religious artifact.  In the part of his mind that’s still thinking, Bucky realizes how conceited it is that he’s getting off so much on her naked appreciation of his body, and knows that Steve would be howling with sardonic mirth.  

Nope, Bucky thinks, shutting that down in a hurry.  Not gonna think of Steve right now.

Bucky surrenders himself to Marya, letting her touch him everywhere and plant open-mouthed kisses wherever she wants, which is pretty much everywhere, too. He’s too aroused to endure the way she starts to use her tongue on his dick, though.  When he comes, he wants it to be inside of her.  

“Marya, come here…”  He groans.

“Am I doing that wrong?”

“Fuck, no.  You’re doing it too right.  I want you. I want my cock in you.”

Apparently, Marya’s very on board with that plan, and she moves with him when he turns them over so that he’s lying on top of her.  “I want to make you come first, though.”

“’Come?’  Is that when that… explosion happens?”

“That’s what it is, all right.”  Bucky rubs his cock against her, feeling her lips slide to accommodate him, and she uses her feet against the mattress to rock her pelvis against him.  She reaches down to take his cock in her hand, using the head to rub exactly where she needs it, and it’s mere moments before she’s coming with a spectacular series of shudders and inarticulate cries.  One might’ve been “Sergeant,” and Bucky kind of hopes it was.

He plans to wait, rubbing against her until she’s completely finished, but she moves her hips until the head of his cock is against her entrance, then wraps her legs around him.  He doesn’t need any encouragement.  He thrusts into her, both of them gasping with the sensation, and immediately begins to fuck her with a determined rhythm.  When he feels her start to buck against him with her second orgasm, he feels the rush of pleasure roar through him and they’re both shouting as they come.

They both sleep soundly through the rest of the night, once they’ve agreed that Marya and the rest of the Hydra captives did, indeed, get it right.