#a drag path that leads to my prison

[gonerbird]

thinking about DRAG PATH (devil's eyes) thinking about DRAG PATH (devil's eyes) thinking about DRAG PATH (devil's eyes) thinking about DRAG PATH (devil's eyes) thinking abou-

[chibikyo]

War Prize

Baraka x Reader

(can be read as male or female; no gendered terms used)

TW for non-con, biting, mild belly bulge/cum inflation

Description; You are defeated and taken prisoner during Shao Kahn's invasion of earthrealm. As the one to defeat you, Baraka is given you as a prize by the great Kahn. What does the tarkatan leader have planned for you?

*First time posting something I wrote to Tumblr. First time posting smut. No idea where this came from or why. I just got this idea in my head and decided to roll with it. I hope someone enjoys it.

During The first days of Shao Kahn's invasion of outworld, you had been captured by a horde of tarkatans, lead by Baraka. As one of earthrealms champions, you had been presented to the Kahn as a prisoner of war.

"Their yours, Baraka, a reward for your impressive victory." The Kahn had chortled and you were dragged through the koliseum and out into the wastes of Outworld. The Tarkatan war camp was a nightmare to behold. There were corpses, some whole, some dismembered, most in various states of being skinned, hung up outside of nearly every tent. You closed your eyes aganist the horrific sight, but couldn't block that sweet, putrid stench of decay from invading your senses.

When the tarkatans pulled you up a short set of stairs and threw you down on to a tacky wooden floor, you chanced opening your eyes. The sun blurred your vision as one tarkatan yanked you to your feet. You wanted to resist, to try and make your escape but your arms were bound tightly to your sides and your wrists tied together behind your back with thick, coarse ropes.

It was Baraka who lifted you by the waist and looped your bindings over a hook suspended from what might be a gallows. The hook was sharp and left a shallow cut along your back as Baraka let gravity settle you onto the massive hook. You could just barely touch the wood below with your toes. Enough to take away some of the burden of your weight and lessen the pressure of the ropes digging into your guts. Your arms ached being so tightly bound against you and any struggle would just exhaust you more.

A crowd of Tarkatans were gathering around the stage, more pouring in from the outskirts of the camp. Baraka was speaking harshly to the horde in his native tongue and you had no idea what was being said, but shame burned on your cheeks as the crowd cheered. Fear curled hot and heavy in your guts, flooded your senses with the weight of your panic as it slowly crawled its way up your throat. Would Baraka make it quick, or did Tarkatans like to play with their food first? The thought of this monster flensing you alive, stripping the skin from your bones without giving you a swift death first? It took everything in you not to give in and sob.

Baraka turned toward you and you could swear there was triumph on that twisted face. He leaned in close and you could see his nostrils flare as he scented you. His breath was hot against your cheek as he drew closer. You shut your eyes and jerked back, though that only succeeded in rattling the chains suspending you. You felt harsh fingers dig into your soft flesh as Baraka grabbed your chin to hold you still. A tear finally broke free to trail softly down your cheek and just as softly you felt what must have been Baraka's tongue tracing the path of it. Like the rest of him, his tongue was coarse, rougher than a human's. It scraped under your eye, lapping up the gathering pool of tears threatening to spill before Baraka pulled away.

He shouted once more at the crowd, their cheers drowning out the foreign words and deafening you. You took a deep breath, waiting to feel the sharp sting of teeth or the edge of Baraka's arm blade. You were stunned when you felt two massive hands digging into the fabric of your pants followed by a loud tearing sound that reverberated in your ear drums. You froze, mind unable to fully process what was happening as Baraka moved up, ripping away your top to expose your chest to the ever growing crowd. Strips of ruined fabric were all that was left of your clothes, except what could not be reached beneath the ropes.

A sudden dread swept over you as you felt Baraka's hands trail back to your hips, the rough pads of his fingers scraping against the delicate skin, diggng into the soft flesh. His breath was hot on the back of your neck as he pressed his teeth against your shoulder, inhaling deep to scent the skin where your neck and shoulder met. This, more than anything, finally snapped you out of the fugue that had settled over your mind.

You struggled against the tight bonds, thrashing and twisting to get away from the monster holding you captive. Baraka merely chuffed, his hands digging harder into the delicate curve of you just below the edges of the rope. He yanked you backward against him harshly, your feet slipping away from the wood even as you scrambled to find some purchase. What little comfort that had been afforded to you before was gone as you felt the ropes bite into you deeper.

Baraka wrapped one arm around your waist as the other moved up to close around your throat. His fingers gripped firmly around your neck, the hollow of your throat pressed against the hollow between his thumb and forefinger. He squeezed only once, coupled with a low growl, which you knew was the only warning you would get about acting up. You felt a chill travel down your spine as Baraka pressed himself against you. You could feel the hard length of him pressing insistently against your ass and the thought of what came next made you feel sick.

The crowd was jeering, shouting harsh words that you could not interpret and hissing encouragingly at their leader. Baraka settled you back in position before pulling his hands away to fumble behind you. You couldn't see what the Tarkatan was doing, but the soft 'schck' of fabric hitting the floor left little to the imagination. You closed your eyes as Baraka's hands found purchase on your thighs again. You didn't fight as your legs were spread enough for Baraka to press in behind you.

"Please don't fo this." You pleaded, desperate to put a stop to this even knowing you were helpless to stop him.

"Quiet," Baraka growled softly from behind you and you choked back a sob.

You braced yourself for pain, but once again was startled as Baraka soothed the skin beneath his hands.Trembling, you couldn't begin to fathom what the Tarkatan meant by the gesture before you felt that rough, almost sandpaper-esque tongue lick a stripe across your entrance. You gasped, the pain-pleasure combo making you dizzy as Baraka lapped at your hole again and again. Your thighs quivered as Baraka plunged his tongue inside you, fucking you with it, forcing pleasure to pool in your gut even as you weakly tried to protest. You could feel yourself reaching that crescendo as your aborted pleas slowly became little more than moans. As your "no" and "stop" became "yes" and "more" and "please".

Baraka's hands dug harder into your thighs, spreading your legs further so he could fuck his tongue even deeper into you. He lapped up the taste of you with abandon, savoring that salty, musky taste as he pushed deeper still, until you could feel the press of his teeth against your entrance. The thrill of those ivory daggers nestled against your most intimate place drove you over the edge and you screamed as you came, thrashing as the most intense orgasm of your life was wrung out of you, Baraka happily lapping up the mess you left as you quivered from overstimulation.

As you slowly came down from your high, the pain from the ropes digging into you was sharper and you felt your face burning in shame as the crowd cheered louder. You almost thought that was it, until Baraka pressed in behind you, his cock impossibly large and pressing into the crack of your ass. You whimpered as Baraka pressed two fingers into your quivering entrance, lubricating the way with the remnants of your orgasm. He pulled them away with a satisfied growl before manipulating you until your entrance was hovering just above his cock. You had never felt so empty before, never been so achingly hollow, and your body clenched with the need to be full. Knowing it would only hurt to fight what came next, you forced yourself to relax as Baraka began to push into you. He went slower than you expected, but unrelenting as his cock speared you open. You had never imagined something so huge could even fit, but your body opened up around him as he just kept pressing deeper and deeper. Not just big, but impossibly hard with deep ridges on the underside that pressed deliciously against your plush insides.

He seemed determined to make you take all of him, growling as he was met with tighter and tighter resistance. You could swear you felt him in your throat, choking as your breath was punched out of you. You felt Baraka wrap his arms tight around you, pressing so tightly against you that the protrusions of bone on his chest and atms dug into your skin. You could feel the growl make its way through him, your only warning as he thrust up into you. You screamed as his monstrous length bottomed out within you, followed by his teeth digging into the soft flesh of your shoulder. The pain was so all-encompassing as you sobbed and thrashed against him.

Baraka stayed nestled inside you, content to wait until your screams subsided into shuddered sobs. He brushed his hand soothinlgly against your collar bones, tracing the hollow of your throat softly and felt your breath hitch and you lurch with pleasure as his arm brushed against a sensitive nipple. His teeth slowly pulled out of your shoulder as he felt you settle again and he lapped at the blood spilling from the needle like punctures. The roughness of his tongue sent spikes of white hot pain through the torn muscle, mixed with the zing of pleasure as Baraka explored your chest, pinching and plucking at your nipples to feel you squirm against his cock nestled so deep inside you. You were panting, your breath hitching on little moans as you adjusted to the intrusion. Baraka pulled away from the wound on your back, twisting the hook and you with it so he could turn you to face him.

The drag of his cock inside you as he manipulated your body with ease had you choking. Once you were facing him, Baraka leaned down, his tongue laving at one of sensitive nubs eagerly. You could see his face twist with ecstasy as he toyed with each nipple in turn. That rough appendage dragging acrosd the delicate skin and over stimulated nerves beneath, coupled with the constant pressure of his thick length inside was too much. He gave a single. shallow thrust, more to readjust your weight against him than anything, and you moaned, gasping, as a second orgasm tore through you. Baraka pulled back, his hands at your waist as he slowly lifted you. The sensation of the hook dragging against your back was dwarfed by the drag of his cock as he lift you almost completely off of it. Your hole fluttered and clenched at the ache of being empty, though that only lasted a few seconds before Baraka was lowering you back down. You choked as that massive length filled you yet again. You barely registered the ropes falling away before Baraka wrapped his hands around your thighs, jerking your legs up and you had to fling your arms around his neck to stay balanced, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist.

His cock rubbed your sensitive walls, drawing out soft moans as you lay your head bonelessly against his shoulder. He barked out what may have been an order to the crowd and you were reminded that this whole ordeal had been in front of an audience. You were too tired to care at that point, burying your head into the crook of his neck as your arms tightened around the Tarkatan leader's neck. The press of his sharp protrusions barely noticeable compared to the shallow thrusts of his cock within you as he carried you down the stairs and away from the ever dissipating crowd.

You finally snapped back to reality as Baraka pressed you down into a nest of furs and blankets. You hissed as the soft fabric brushed against the bite on your shoulder, the skin raw and aching. The sun no longer burned your eyes and you blinked, taking in the walls of Baraka's tent. Compared to the macabre sight outside the tent, inside was quite clean and almost cozy. Baraka noticed your hiss of pain and encouraged you to roll over, only pulling out of you long enough for you to untangle your legs from his before thrusting back into you with a satisfied growl. This time the slide into you was nothing but pleasure and you shuddered with anticipation. A part of you, buried deep since this ordeal began, knew that you didn't want this, that this was an assault by the enemy. Despite this, your body had already begun to crave the heavy weight of Baraka pressed inside you; the tight, almost suffocating feeling of his cock buried in your deepest, most intimate parts.

Baraka caged your body between his arms as he leaned down to delicately lap up the few rivulets of blood that had seeped from his bite mark. He inhaled the scent of blood, coupled with the sharp tang of your phermones, and his tongue poked out to taste it. You whined, rocking your body back against his, desperate for him to move as you felt the deep aching need pooling in your guts again. His growl, as he pulled out until only the tip of his meaty cock rested within you, made you gasp, before his hips snapped forward, driving his cock inside you and punching the air out of your lungs. He began to thrust, hard, fast, dragging harshly against your inner walls as you struggled to catch your breath. You could feel the slide in your guts and when you looked down you could see the top of his cock pushing out from the lowest edge of your belly. You moaned, your hand trailing down to press against that bump, feeling that hard length as it rearranged your guts to carve out space for itself.

Baraka hissed and let out a loud groan as he felt your palm press against his cock from the outside. His thrusts became feral as he rutted inside you, making you choke and slide forward from the force. Your orgasm that had been slowly building crashed over you wave after wave as Baraka continued to batter your insides. You were still shaking, riding out the aftershocks as you felt Baraka's arms around your waist, yanking you back and against his chest as he buried himself as deep as he could and painted your insides with his thick seed. You felt pulse after pulse of hot cum shooting from his cock, filling you to the brim. Your hand went to your stomach, brushing against the head of his cock as he shook through his orgasm. It took a full minute for him to finally stop cumming and you could feel that thick seed leaking out from where the two of you were joined. Could feel his cock twitching inside you. Baraka's cock was still impossibly hard and he seemed content to stay buried within you. He lapped at the blood that had seeped out of your wound as you slowly caught your breath.

"Beautiful." Baraka hissed. "I am so glad the emperor let me keep you. I would have been more gentle, but a public claim is required to ensure the clan knows you are off limits."

"You were…claiming me?" Your voice was rough from screaming and disuse. Your throat ached as you spoke.

"Yes. I've been dying to mate with you since our first fight." Baraka growled. His hands worked there way down your body as he spoke, removing the last remnants of your clothes until you were fully naked against him. "At the tournament." He clarified, nuzzling against your neck so he could drink in the sweet smell of arousal within your phermones. "You smelled so sweet, so delicious, I could barely resist claiming you right then." He gave a shallow thrust making you moan. "You are even sweeter than I could have hoped for."

Your breath hitched at the confession as Baraka slowly arranged the two of you on the nest. He kept his thrusts going, shallow and soft, content to feel you squeezing around him and you could feel exhaustion threatening to swallow you. Although you had not consented, you had to admit that Baraka had been much more careful with you than you'd expected. It didn't help that his arms were huge and warm and you felt safe even with those imposing teeth nestled against the hollow of your throat. You should be finding a way to escape. Instead you moaned his name as he snapped for hips forward, his one hand finding its way between your legs to coax one last orgasm out of you. You clenched around him, your body trembling as you felt him coat your insides with another flood of cum before he finally slid out of you.

You whimpered at ache of being empty as you could feel his spend starting to leak out of you. Baraka's hand brushed against your hole, feeling the mess slowly oozing out of you and twisted away for a moment. You could feel him fumbling behind himself for something, then gasped as his hand found your entrance again. Two of his meaty fingers swirled through the mess collecting outside your hole before he slowly eased those digits, cum and all, back into you. He spent a few minutes pumping those digits into you, working his cum as deep as possible. You choked, cumming again even though you hardly thought it possible. He kept softly pumping his fingers, enjoying the way his cum sloshed around inside you as you whined at the overstimulation. Baraka's other hand gently stroked your soft belly, feeling the way the skin was stretched taught over the small pooch that had formed from how well he'd filled you up.

Finally, as tears threatened to spill from your eyes, he removed his fingers and replaced them with something cold and hard. It slipped inside you easily,the bulbous shape and its flared base plugging your hole and preventing any cum from sliding out. You shuddered as it pressed against your sensitive walls. It wasn't as big as Baraka's cock, nothing was, but it helped ease the ache of the emptiness you felt. You clenched around it as Baraka pressed firmly against your back. He kept a tight hold of you, his tongue leaving little trails over your skin. You were too sore to push him off. There was a bone deep exhaustion settling over you from the fighting followed by the most mind blowing, toe curling sex you'd ever experienced. You drifted off to the sound of Baraka growling softly to you in a mix of yours and his native tongue. You only caught a few of the words as the world faded to black.

"My mate."

[rou-luxe]

please elaborate on the grandpa clavis bc I don't know much about Alfons, so idk what to think about that 😭

hEHehEhhAaAaHAHA LET'S GO I HAVE PERMISSION TO GET THE IDEA OUT OF MY HEAD (cracks knuckles) I love them both

analysis under the cut spoilers for Clavis, light spoilers for Alfons

I kinda quit Alfons route early to go to the English server release because my brain is too lazy to translate everything 😭 so this is just from what I know about him. this is doomed to be inaccurate 💀

warning this gets off topic in some places because my analysis ideas carried me a bit too far because I love them

The central point is that they both use pleasurable experiences to ignore reality. Alfons focuses a LOT on the pleasure part of that, as seen from erm his lack of sleep and mentions it plenty in voicelines. Alfons also applies this philosophy to people other than himself. Alfons sometimes protects MC from uncomfortable realities, like the scene where he and Ellis kill someone, and uses his power to convince MC that it was just a play (Kate LOVES plays).

As seen from his profile, Alfons heavily resents pain of any sort. I already forgot when exactly (chapter 4 premium avatar challenge?), but at some point, MC is crying and he consoles them before you know- this is just an assumption, but I think he doesn't want any sort of emotional turmoil in those close to his heart. He keeps reassuring Elbert that he is much more beautiful than MC without hesitation. Not only is he making sure MC is safe and doesn't get in a horror-esque story (nervously looks at Elbert trailer), he's also making sure that Elbert doesn't get jealous to the point of performing taxidermy on a person... because the events leading up to that would hurt them both. This makes Alfons feel so kind and considerate ngl 😭

Clavis wants to be loved by all. The game sometimes describes him as "lonely" - this is likely because he was overshadowed by Chev as a kid, and because he felt so shaken by his mother's death that he needed attention from others to feel more complete. It also connects to his pranks. He wants to feel something, anything to pretend he's not dying inside. Whether the attention he gets is positive or negative, at least he feels something.

It's mentioned quite a lot in his path that the more pained / scared Clavis is feeling, the more he smiles. It's sort of his coping mechanism. By smiling, he can pretend everything is alright (HIS MOM 😭😭 I'M GONNA FUHGKING CRY SHE MUST'VE BEEN SO SWEET AND BEAUTIFUL AND Cybird I want to see his mom).

He also does somewhat force MC to be around him, but it's not in a Silvio way, it comes off more clingy to me. He's been left alone, abandoned so many times, that he can't bare the pain of loneliness anymore. And thus we get dragged to his breakfast parties. Another coping mechanism. Clavis gets to spend time with MC every morning, gets to cook for her (...it's the thought that counts) and terrorize a couple of his half-brothers... just to forget it all. Clavis even escapes from his prison cell just to see you, the light of his life. (I love him)

"Sylvatica" comes from the scientific name for "forget-me-not". This one is completely an assumption that seems rather unlikely, but perhaps like Clavis, Alfons wants to be remembered somehow.

I can't remember if this was legit or not because I've been scrolling through Tumblr too much but I remember seeing a post that went something like: "Alfons has MC sign (something) papers because after he dies, his curse will make him forgotten and he just wants something to prove that he loved MC" or something. (That post broke my heart so bad.) Is that why he's called a "phantom"?

In summary:

They both have their own ways of ignoring reality, and they are both up to trickery (especially when it comes to MC). Both endulge in enjoyment, it's part of their lifestyle. doesn't necessarily refer to seggs but it does sure sound like it

I'm not quite sure where Alfons' ignorance originates, but all Clavis wants is to be loved. Give him the love.

Okay onto the shorter sillier theories because my heart can't take this

Clavis' epithet is "The Pleasure-Loving Beast", and Alfons' is "The Hedonistic Thrill-Seeker".

Clavis likes tricks and teasing, and so does Alfons. Though Clavis does that MUCH more often.

They also act like they're fucking around but they actually know what they're doing.

They pretend to be worse than they are 😭 (omg shakespeare too... is that my type... 💀)

Others have made this remark before but Alfons feels like a darker Clavis + more unhinged

They both like to cook. And eat. And they both have stomachs of steel.

sword

They both have bad handwriting. Clavis is notorious for this, and Alfons says he has bad handwriting in the first letter of his path.

Fuck I forgot I had science homework due tomorrow

edit: I forgot another one they both are self-described "gentlemen" 😭😭

[alpydk]

Tender and Tired

So, me and @judasiskariot got chatting and with it came a prompt that I was given the OK to work on ^^ - So, of course, I did and somehow ended up writing the story of Devorah (she's so beautiful!) which was one of her Tav's. An amazing experience writing this and I'm just so glad you enjoyed it and am letting me share her with the world. <3

Prompt - "And of course combine angst and smut! 😆 also like...maybe... 🤔 fear of losing someone/fighting for their life and than survive, comforting after horror and rescue and relief sex because happy ending and reveal the feelings that they had not done before and almost never had the chance?"

Word Count - 3734 Words - CW - Angst / Pining / Smut - (Blowjob) - Happy ending ;)

“It’s okay, you’re going to be okay. Just stay with me…”

The dark blood was seeping through Gale’s wrap shirt, a crimson weed growing amongst the fields of cotton lying on his abdomen. The sweat beaded on his brow and all Devorah could do was hold her hands to the wound, a quiet prayer hung unspoken on her lips, so many desperate words unshared between them never to be uttered.

---

Devorah lay within the forest, Astarion’s cool arms draped over her bare chest as the stars glistened above them in the night sky. Her eyes followed each constellation, a path home should she ever find herself truly lost, but could those same stars lead her to what her heart truly desired? These passionate nights had been ‘fun’ just as he’d promised, bodies entwined, the piercing bite to her neck leaving her tiptoeing the path between life and death. All she had to do was let go, just as he did, and yet, just like him, her mind was always elsewhere.

“You sleep less than me,” he mumbled into the crook of her neck, planting an icy kiss upon her soft skin.

“Hm. Difficult to sleep when we don’t know what’s ahead of us.”

He dragged a fingertip across her naked breast, causing her to suck in a breath in expectation. “I find it more difficult to sleep knowing what lies behind me.”

Devorah moved her body weight so she could face him. His cherry tinged eyes held an insatiable hunger but behind them a depth that would creep out, a bound child locked in darkness, scared of the burning light. She had heard the nightmares through the tadpole, seen the face of Cazador, felt the words of pure loathing spat at Astarion through the pinhole opening of an entombed prison. Anything ahead would be better than what he’d left behind.

“I guess I just hope for a future. You know marriage, romance, love…” she sighed. “But with the tadpoles, what if they-”

Astarion interrupted her, knowing where she was going with her questioning. “Then I’d kill you, just as you would kill me. We would both die long before that happened.” He lifted his head to be above her, their current position a little too emotionally intimate for his liking. “A much more pleasant run around the second time, I’m hoping.”

“Death? Or were you thinking of something else?” Devorah gave him a playful smirk, her hand running up the side of his pale-skinned abdomen.

“And here I thought I was the insatiable one.”

Love would have to wait, she decided, as once again she lost herself in the illusions of a near-death fantasy.

---

“Not relaxing in the comfort of another’s arms this evening, my dear?” Gale asked, not lifting his eyes from the pages before him.

Devorah scowled at him as he sat upon a woollen blanket near his tent. Obviously, the petty argument between her and Astarion had been heard. Nothing serious, but another bickering over a ritual she knew was too dangerous to commit to. Of course, he wanted that kind of power; who wouldn’t? But seven thousand souls were far more than she would allow to rest on her conscience.

“No, if you must know,” she said curtly, her mood still a simmering anger beneath the surface.

Since arriving in the Shadowlands, her passionate relationship had been affected by the surrounding curse. At least that was her only explanation for what was going on between her and Astarion. Their nights together were more of just scratching an itch with one another than enjoying each other’s company. Their conversations had dwindled to a couple of words, and the sniping and cattiness was becoming almost nightly. It had to be the curse. It was certainly not the way her attention kept being pulled by the deep brown eyes of her warm-blooded companion, one who spoke with the lilt of a poet, one who made her heart beat with a warmth seen only in Karlach.

Gale lifted his head, noting the aggression in her tone. “Do you want to discuss it?”

Devorah noted the space next to him, the way he placed his book aside with all his attention dedicated to her. “Honestly, that’s the last thing I want to do.”

“They why not simply sit and enjoy a moment of silence with me?” He lifted his hand and with it, the world grew quiet. There were no longer the groans of the cursed creatures in the distance, the crackling of the campfire was now but a dance of light and shadow, and Devorah for the first time in what felt like an age could hear her own thoughts without interruption of the outside world.

She sat beside him before closing her eyes and breathing deeply, noticing the lack of sound that came out as she exhaled. It was strangely comforting, a glimpse of death before darkness truly fell. She felt as Gale pulled himself closer to her, sharing his warmth and life, something she had missed in the arms of her lover. Her shoulders relaxed, her heartbeat calmed as if she were about to fall asleep, and for a moment there was no tadpole, no looming death over their heads.

Opening her eyes, she saw his soft gaze upon her, noticed the chestnut strands of hair that wisped upon his brow. If it wasn’t for the subtle ache in her neck, a reminder of nights gone, she knew she would have kissed him in that moment, a future of conjured peaceful moments filling her with longing.

But just as there was no sound, there were also no kisses on warm lips that night.

---

Days and nights passed where both Devorahand Gale denied what was happening between them. The hidden glances across flames, the brush of hands together in passing, a night under illusionary stars where both had dared not think of a bleak future. Neither would speak up about what was occurring, of the times where both found calm just in each other’s company. He would simply watch as she vanished into her lover’s tent, leaving him alone to wonder if things could have been different if he were different. And she would not speak of the nights of lying in cold arms, dreaming of a future she would never have, if only she had made different choices, if only she too were different.  

---

With the setting of the sun, the docks shone as if aflame, a low hung dust filling the air from the destruction of the city. Alone stood Devorah, her mind quiet, her heart slowed, her wishes of love buried under remembrance of her recent dance with Death. Now, with the Netherbrain defeated, her companions had dispersed, leaving her with only the tangled threads of fate and no clear path ahead. She looked out over the water; the portal having just vanished before her with the lives of her friends. She could see the scorch marks of Karlach’s departure, blackened and ashen, upon the boards beneath leather boots, a reminder that the God of Death could be beaten if only you were willing to fight for it, if only you kept the people you loved at your side.

As they’d left the Shadowlands, Devorah had spoken at length with Astarion about his own ideas of their ‘love’. It was all so complicated, many a vulnerable moment shared and considered, and both knew in their hearts that nothing good would come of remaining together. Instead, they left with growth and loss. Friendship had been the overall outcome of the discussion, and it was that which he certainly needed if he were to heal. She welcomed this, but deep down mourned what she had missed out on: not what she could have had with him, but what she’d given up on being with him in the first place.

Now, as the sun slowly descended across the skies of the Sword Coast, she thought of the one she knew she loved, the one she had let leave to save them both the heartbreak. The waves licked the pillars beneath her and with the exhaustion of victory came the further stirrings of her mind. A realisation that despite everything they had been through together, she had ended up alone. Shadowheart, Karlach, Wyll, all to Avernus in one fell swoop, Astarion fleeing as the sunlight cracked his porcelain flesh. And Gale…

Devorah sighed, remembering the few words he had spoken to her after all had happened, how the familiar sight of pain had clung on to him despite the orb’s stabilisation so long ago. He’d bid his farewells and sluggishly walked towards the city, his steps heavy, much like her own. So much went unsaid, so many glances at one another’s lips ignored, so many masks and walls to avoid hurting each other, just as they’d been hurt in the past.

She left the docks, a sense of weariness motioning her forward. Wine upon her lips was all she could think of, a scarlet swirl as it would pour into the glass, much like the trail of blood that lay upon the cobbles, a trail from the spot Gale had said his farewells. It took a moment for her mind to catch up with the sight, a realisation that his pain was not simply Mystra’s unfair consequences but that of something severely wrong and a man who would never wish to be a burden to another.   

Her slow steps upon the stones of the streets soon became a hurried pace as spattered traces of blood grew to crimson pools down shadowed alleyways. Her body ached with each quickened turn around the corners, but it mattered little as panic filled her lungs with the images of what she would find. If she had allowed him to leave with nothing but a simple goodbye, for him to then die alone… If only she had taken a chance, refused to lose herself in the cool embrace of another, then maybe she too could have beaten the God of Death with her loved one at her side. She rushed through groups of survivors, knowing she had to find him, hoping that he had not drawn his last breath and been taken from her for good.

---

It was in a small dimly lit room at the Elfsong Tavern that she found him; his purple robes tossed aside with little regard for where they landed, now stained with the blood from his own hands. He sat exhausted at the foot of the small bed, his fingertips sticky with coagulated blood and fumbling with the ties of his shirt as he tried to get to the wound and see the damage.

She was quickly upon him, moving his hands aside with ease, feeling the way he tried to prevent her from helping.

“It’s nothing, my dear,” he weakly spoke. Colour had drained from his cheeks, his normal slight tan now growing close to that of Astarion’s pallor.

“Don’t bullshit me, I’ve got eyes.” She tugged at the strings that had become knotted throughout the day, wishing he could have just worn buckles like the rest of them. “What even happened? Why didn’t you say anything? How could you…?” She was growing emotional with each second that passed, fear taking over. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, lose him.

He gripped her arm, the shades of red transferring to her own shirt. “A cultist as we climbed the tower. I didn’t notice…” His words were growing slower, quieter as the light faded from his eyes.

“It’s okay, you’re going to be okay. Just stay with me…”

The dark blood was seeping through Gale’swrap shirt, a crimson weed growing amongst the fields of cotton lying on his abdomen. The sweat beaded on his brow and all Devorah could do was hold her hands to the wound, a quiet prayer hung unspoken on her lips, so many desperate words unshared between them never to be uttered. His eyes grew heavy in front of her, his breaths slowing to quiet gasps. She gave up on the shirt, instead pressing her hands to the wound, the whispered prayer finally emerging with the faint glow under her fingertips. It wasn’t much, but it would keep him with her and for that, at least, she was thankful.

---

It had taken all Devorah’s strength to get Gale into the bed after he had lost consciousness. She’d managed the healing spell to keep him stable but knew with no potions available and her own spells limited to speaking with animals, speaking with the dead, anything but something useful, she’d struggle to get him back on his feet. She finally untied his shirt, revealing his chest beneath it, the dried blood staining his skin to a deep pink. The bleeding had thankfully stopped with the spell, but the remnants of the incident remained. She peeled back the fabric, finding the wound to his side, the deep cut that would surely leave a scar upon his pristine flesh.

Taking a cloth and a bowl of warm water, she perched herself on the edge of the cotton bedsheets next to him. Her voice was quiet, not wanting to wake him, but hoping that on some level he might hear her and find comfort. “Gale…Whatever are we going to do with you?” The cloth took some of the staining from his skin and she gave a gentle smile, seeing his normal colour slowly returning to him.

She took in a deep breath as she worked, relieving the tension in her shoulders. As she placed the cloth in the bowl, she saw as the water turned a murky red. “I always thought that if me and you got together, the first time I’d see you with your shirt off would be after too many glasses of wine and some of that poetry you dabbled in.” The cloth was wrung out before being placed back on his skin, a rogue drop of water running down the side of his stomach onto the bed.

“Always quite liked your poetry… Made me feel alive…” She chuckled to herself quietly. “Sorry, poor use of words there.” Devorah looked over her work, the way his wound was still angry but now no longer running the risk of infection. She’d need to collect some potions, but at least he wouldn’t die whilst she was away. Or at least she hoped he wouldn’t. Placing the damp cloth and bowl to the side, she glanced over at him before standing to leave. “Gale,” she hesitated. Would he hear her words? Were they worth saying when death still skulked in the shadows? “Nevermind… Just, don’t go anywhere.”   

---

It was hours before Gale woke again, his colour back to normal and the wound mostly healed. He felt the sting on his side, the ache of his muscles as he tried to pull himself up on the bed to sit up and gather his surroundings. Trying to retrace his steps proved difficult as he thought back to the docks and the winding trek to the tavern.

“You shouldn’t be trying to move, you know.”

He looked around for the voice; the world spinning a little with the movement. “Devorah?”

She approached him, a glass of cold water in her hand. “Yeah. How’re you feeling?”

“Like one that has been caught in the cascade of a Bibberbang explosion.”

She smiled at his answer. “Well, you’re still as articulate as ever.” Devorah passed him the water, her fingertips lightly brushing his as she handed over the glass. “Here, drink this. It’ll get rid the aftertaste of the potions.”

Gale had been curious what the obscure taste was upon his tongue, one of balsam and berries, sickly sweet. He grasped the water, savouring it in his mouth before swallowing and letting out a satisfied exhale. “You saved me.”

“It was just water,” she replied, dodging his true meaning, averting her gaze from him. His gratitude was not something she wanted. She would have walked through flames if it meant him living. She would have taken the orb from his chest and imbedded it in her own if it meant he could go on with his life.

“We both know that is not what I speak of. Devorah-”

“Gale,” she interrupted

“I love you.”

She lifted her head instantly, a hint of confusion on her face. “What did you say?”

He smiled softly, his fingertips raising up beneath her chin. “Something that I should have said to you many moons ago.” He should have said it under conjured starlight, or before they entered the High Hall. He should have said it with every breath that escaped him. “Devorah, I love you.”

For a moment she was speechless, her own words trapped in her throat as if saying them would dispel the illusion before her. They replayed in her head, the sweet melody of his voice once again calming her soul as he had done so many times before. The God of Death had once again been beaten. The tiptoed path upon a near-death precipice halted as a choice was made, as the love she had once dreamt of under glistening stars became finally within her grasp. “I love you too, Gale,” she whispered.

Warm lips found one another; the taste of healing potions shared between them, as a buried yearning was released. As Devorah moved herself on to Gale’s lap, he let out a soft groan.

“Careful, my love…”

Tender kisses were placed down his neck, down the weaving trails left by the orb. She traced her fingers gently down his body, each one working as if he were the rare tomes of a forbidden library. She could smell the traces of ink from his books still upon him, as if he still stood in his tower in Waterdeep. Each touch of his skin upon lips brought her a fresh wave of life that she had never felt before, a new longing for more of him. She would not lose herself; she would find him, and she would be with him in full.

Her kisses worked further down his body, through the soft bed of chest hair, her legs shifting down until she was sitting in front of him. “Let me love you, as you deserve to be loved.”

There was a moment of hesitation from Gale, his need to serve, his need to give, trying to burst through. He wanted to provide her with everything he’d been unable to, to make up for lost nights where he’d watched her depart too many times. He saw the love in eyes, felt as her hand trailed up his inner thigh, his touch starved body reacting with little regard for what his mind’s opinion was. All he could do was give a tentative nod.

Devorah’s hands came to the drawstrings of his trousers, a slow tug of each as she looked into his eyes. “Lie back, relax.”

Gale slid down slowly on the bed, his head still resting on the headboard to watch her. “Easy for you to say.”

She playfully smiled, pulling at his trousers and looking concerned as he winced with the rise of his hips. “Still in pain?”

“Nothing I’ve not felt before.”

“That’s not how it should be, though.” She ran her hand along his leg, a comforting palm to ease his nerves.

He sighed deeply with the sensation of her hand; his body exposed to her completely. There had been no wine, no poetry or charm for this moment. This was simply what she wanted to do, and he was struggling to accept that she could ever want this with him. As her flushed lips caught the skin of his stomach, he leant his head back, his eyes closing to fight past the overwhelming pound of his heart rate. It was as her hand came around the base of his cock that he let out an involuntary gasp and looked down at her. “You’re…”

“Do you trust me?”

His voice was almost a whisper. “Yes.”

As her heated mouth wrapped around him in full, there was little Gale could do than release a desperate sound. His thoughts ran wild, the sensation, the vulnerability, the love and devotion she was willing to give him after all that has happened. The pain in his side meant little to him as wave after wave of pleasure warmed his body. His hands found her shoulder, a grip on her skin to ground himself in reality. “Devorah…”

She continued to move, her tongue running up his length greedily. She heard her name, felt his grasp. ���Hm?” she replied, not removing herself from what she had longed for in so long.

Words escaped him. The world around him abandoned him only to her touch, to the wordless declaration of love she gave to him, that she wanted to give to him. He could not speak, he could only release the long-held moans as her tongue ran along his shaft, as her moistened lips held him close. He glanced down, a quick glimpse of her watching his pleasure pushing him to the edge almost instantaneously. It had been so long since he had felt anything like that, long nights alone with his own touch, nothing in comparison to the way she touched him. Gale was overwhelmed, the sight of her, her eyes on his, her subtle smile curving with her lips as he clasped tighter to her shoulder. He wanted to fight it, wanted each second to span into infinite moments of enjoyment, but there was little he could do as all self-control shattered with her love.

Her pace quickened, her depth increasing, and his head fell back, a burning light of white in front of his eyes as his release hit, warm and unstoppable. He didn’t feel her move to his side as the room continued spinning around him, as the shadow of death was quickly replaced by nothing but the afterglow of life. It was as his heart rate slowed that he heard her speaking, a quiet admittance of feelings, the first that would come for many years to come.

“Thank you for not dying.” Devorah uttered, pausing for a second and placing her head on his head, listening to the way his heart beat as it slowly steadied. “And for making me feel alive.”

[raplinesmoon]

Burn After Reading (KSJ x F!Reader) - VIII. Epilogue

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Female Reader

Genres: action, heavy angst, smut

AUs: exes-to-lovers, spy!AU

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: ANGST, finally some good freaking fluff, reconciliation, confessions, a proposal, open-ish ending

Ratings: 18+

Summary: The agency made the biggest mistake they ever could by trusting Kim Seokjin one more time. You weren’t going to do the same.

A/N: Hiiiii! She’s back. I guess. Idk what this is - but I was hit with a sudden burst of inspiration to see this story through. I don’t even know what this is, or if it’s even any good or if anyone even cares about them still, but here we are, and I’m happy I could give them some sort of ending. My love for Spy Seokjin remains as strong as ever. I hope you enjoy! Lots of love, Isi 💜

Taglist: @jinpanman @berryjam17 @sandrafe-universe @jiminie-08​

Previous Chapter| Series Masterlist |

It’s been said the sun shines brighter in the Southern hemisphere. Or maybe now you just had time to notice it more. 

A funny thing, time. Before, you’d never had enough of it with Seokjin - your paths always crossing, tangled up in a frantic frenzy of never knowing what would happen to the two of you next. You’d been so sure that this time would be different. But it wasn’t, and now he was gone. And suddenly it all felt like too much.

The days dragged by like lead weights on your feet, the minutes on the clock ticking and ringing in your ears. The artificial sunlight the sealing touch in a cruel prison that left you with the biggest reminders of what you’d lost.

A whine echoes from the next room, and you seal the blinds shut.

Tip-toeing down the hallway, you’re careful not to make a sound, not knowing what you’ll find on the other end of the door to the lone bedroom in the tiny home you’d made your refuge. 

Rounding the corner, your shoulders tense, and then immediately sag in relief when you see a wide pair of brown eyes looking at you. Seokjin’s eyes.

Hana was awake.

Her eyes continue to bore into yours, surveying you with her fist smushed in her mouth, and you have to look away for a moment. Your heart throbs with guilt at the moment of weakness, knowing you needed to be stronger for her. The last piece of Seokjin you had remaining.

“Mmmmm-,” she hums, tiny hands reaching for you, and you make your way over to the crib that stands next to your mattress.

Taking your daughter in your arms, you rock her back and forth, content to hear her giggles and squeals as she wriggles with happiness in your embrace. There’s so much she doesn’t know about the world, so much you have yet to share with her. But you know the time will come eventually. For now, you hold her closer. 

That’s when you hear the knock on the front door.

Kim Namjoon looks older than when you’d seen him last. His glasses have become a near-permanent fixture on his face, highlighting the lines that have taken up permanent residence between his brows. His hair is slick, which alerts you to the fact that the sunshine had moved aside for a storm to roll in.

There’s no look of shock on his face when he realizes you aren’t going to step aside to let him in. You remain at the threshold, shoulders squaring up against his tall figure, the last boundary separating him from the new life you’d created. From Hana.

You wonder why he’s shown up after all this time. The visits and calls from Jungkook you’d come to expect, the doe-eyed young agent turning into somewhat of a friend. At least, on your end of things anyway.

But there was no love lost for Namjoon in your heart. The man before you had once been like Yoongi, a dear friend. You wondered when that had all changed, and whether regret clouded his heart for all the years he’d spent pushing others away, chasing the greater good, destroying countless lives in the process, yours and Seokjin’s included. 

“___,” Namjoon croaks out, taking you by surprise when he doesn’t immediately address you by your code name. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Bile rises up in your throat, hot and angry, and you close the door behind you, stepping out into the rain. You watch Namjoon stagger back, hands up in his defense before you can do anything.

“We caught them. The men who killed Yoongi. They’ve been dealt with.”

It should ease the ache within your heart, knowing that vengeance has won. The world thrives on the game of give and take you’d played for the last however many years. But it was all a lie. There was no such thing as justice, fairness. The balance that you’d sought to achieve, that Seokjin had died for - all it did was create more chaos.

And you were tired of it. Tired because you know that despite what Namjoon said, it was what remained unsaid that lingered with you more - there was no news of Seokjin. He was truly gone. 

“Leave,” you spit out at him, watching him recoil at your venomous command. 

He doesn’t apologize, and you know he never will. But you see the way his eyes flit to the living room window, taking note of the toys that litter the floor of your home, and he raises a nod of acknowledgment.

“Take care of yourself, Rumex,” he whispers into the rain. And then, he disappears. 

The harbour is quiet, almost peaceful today - the tide is gentle, waves swishing softly against the wooden planks of the boardwalk. You pull Hana’s sun hat over her eyes, not wanting her to be irritated by the warm rays, and the two of you resume watching the many boats and sails that litter the vast expanse of sea.

You often wonder about how many people must come on and off those boats - a shudder runs through your spine when you realize how easy it could be to be found by the wrong people. But then you remind yourself that it’s safe here. It has been for months, with no sign of the past in sight. Only a clear blue sky nearly every day. 

Smiling to yourself, you strap Hana into her stroller, the two of you making your way down the boardwalk, passing by the many couples and families that have also chosen to spend the summer day outside.

Coming to a pause, you realize you’ve stopped by an ice cream stand, your tastebuds salivating at the thought of the sugary hit. Hana also seems intrigued by the swirly treat, her lips pursing in wonder at the rainbow-colored sprinkles.

“One twist soft-serve with—”

“Rainbow sprinkles.” The man’s voice speaks at the same time, and you freeze. It takes everything within you not to look to the side, not to have your heart broken again. 

But it’s Seokjin who moves first, reluctantly reaching his arm out, hand quivering as he lays it to rest on your shoulder, and you will yourself not to fall apart.

“Hey,” he whispers, noting how you’re unable to look him in the eye. “I’m here.”

The ice cream is long forgotten as he leads the two of you away to a bench on the side, his eyes trained on Hana’s stroller.

You take a seat, eyes focused on the ground, and all of a sudden it hits you - the feeling of a crushing weight in your chest. And with it, the tears fall. You don’t know how long you cry for - maybe thirty minutes, maybe an hour. But Seokjin remains by your side the entire time. 

When more tears refuse to fall, you finally look at him through bleary eyelids. The same broad shoulders, the same dark hair. Only now the perpetual smirk that once graced his face in your presence has been replaced by something new. Something infinitely more permanent and profound lurks within the depths of his eyes.

“Why’d you come back?” you interrogate him, knowing the words are crude and harsh. Knowing there are other things you should have asked first, like whether he was okay or where he’d been. But none of it seemed to matter at the moment.

“I’m tired of running,” he says wistfully, sadness flooding his eyes. “I’m tired of denying myself everything I’ve ever wanted, with the stupid excuse that the life of a spy is meant to be lonely, that everything is for a cause.”

He pauses, gauging your reaction to find that you’re still listening, that you haven’t run away yet, before continuing. 

“All it did was cause us pain, cause us to lose everybody we ever loved. Yoongi, your parents. And then I almost lost you too. I don’t want to keep playing this game, ___. I don’t want to keep losing and losing. I’m tired of it.”

You can barely stop yourself before your hand reaches out, brushing the stray tear that rolls down his cheek, and Seokjin melts into your touch with another sob.

“It’s okay, Jin, you don’t have to run anymore. You can stay here and rest with me. With us.”

At the mention of Hana, Jin turns to look at the tiny figure in the stroller, his eyes widening and lips parted, on the verge of asking the question he wants so desperately to know the answer to, but nothing comes out. You give him a nod, confirming his suspicions, and watch him let out a sigh of relief.

He reaches into his shirt, clutching the thin chain adorning his neck, and you catch a glimpse of something glinting on the end of it.

The ring gleams under the harsh sunlight, and you find yourself holding your breath at the sight of the precious diamond that had been with Seokjin this entire time - right above his heart.

His grin only grows wider when he sees you eyeing it, slipping the chain off his neck and sliding the precious piece of jewelry off, so that it can finally take its place where it truly belongs.

Seokjin can’t decide what’s more luminous - the gemstone or the sparkle in your eyes as you hand Hana over to him, and he looks into the eyes so much like his own, tiny fists reaching for the hair at the back of his neck.

As you admire the ring, you’re interrupted by a buzzing in your pocket, the old burner coming to life again - you can only imagine what the message will be this time. But you choose to ignore it, taking the phone out and setting it to the side, accepting Seokjin’s hand as he leads you and Hana away from the bench, and towards your new life together.

Burn after reading.

A/N pt 2:  This was the second original story I started, and it feels weird to have it end - like closing the door on a chapter I was so afraid to let go of. These characters are special to me in their own way, and I’m glad to have cherished them for so long and been able to share them with you. As always, any feedback and comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway.

[vanillaxoshi]

Element separate au , Fang and Solar got kidnapped part 3 .

.

.

.

" I need an update!!"

" How are the status of the ships ?! "

Come from Nut the engineer who have been stress repairing the spaceships with the others when the chaos hapend behind the scene .

One of the colleague rush to Nut with a tablet that have the list of ships's damage .

" Nut ! All the engine have finally strat working but the ships still needs some time to fully restart and the generator is still not stable-"

[KABOOM!!! *]

" BOBOIBOY DO SOMETHING !- "

[CRACKKKK*]

" So we couldn't make the ship's electronic system back on ! And the ships venting system also not in the good shape too !"

" DAUN ! BLAZE ! PLEASE CLAM DOWN ! WE HAVE TO CAPTURE THEM DON'T HURT THEM ! "

Boboiboy and the others at the background trying to capture the prisoners along with the rampage elements , Nut can already hear the terrified screams from the clutists coming from the background which he( and the other engineers) tries to ignore it .

" Is there a ship that is fully function ? "

" YAYA HELP ME TO HOLD DOWN DAUN ! "

" BLAZE PLEASE CALM DOWN ! TANAH HELP YAYA - "

[KAAAAAABOOOOOM !!!!!!! *]

" BLAZE ! "

" Even one ? "

" ......No . "

" ........ "

" Among all the ships which Ship is less damage now ? "

" Fang's ship.  "

".......pull all the manpower to that ship now , fix it and make an upgrade on the ship- or rebuild it . We have to make it handle more fire power and contain more people . "

"B-but we can't just add upgrades or rebuild it , it needs the commander's- "

" I know but we have more serious problem now . "

" The longer the element of light is out there the more anger come from the elder elements . "

" And Fang also got dragged in this mess while Captain Kaizo is here , I believe he also want to save him soon as possible . "

"......Copy that ! I'll immediately inform everyone now ! "

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"......"

"......"

" It will take us to the spaceship dock you said ......."

"But-"

"Where the HECK- Are we ?!?!? "

Fang's frustrating voice echo thorough the pathway with his arms straighted out front to show the path they have been walking for almost an hour . Not mention the pathway is dark have nothing could light out the space they have other than the light come from the element .

" Solar are you sure we are taking the right way ? "

The yellow orb who's on Fang's shoulder nods as respond to Fang's question but he can tell the element are not pleased that Fang ask this even got offended by it. The element have been guiding Fang through the maze-like paths since they in thier orb form .

Solar can only say this kid is impatient but they can't blam him for that , after all is the kid who did all the walking and exploring the place while they're resting ......

Back to the main point !

The element keeps using thier body to point to the direction they need to go , although Fang is being frustrated but he still keep walking .

"....... Hey Solar is it my imagine or can you feel like we are being watch now ? "

( ? )

( Shakes *  )

" Sorry it just- something feels off here , I don't like how it's feel ....... "

(......)

" Never mind maybe it just- "

.

.

.

{ Me thinking to much-}

In the dark room where Fang's voice echo through the place from the hologram screen as the person watch them .

"......"

"Go on little one......Help me to lead the light to me- "

"For the dream they could have......"

" And for your dream too......"

" The one who no longer can be fully be trust and can't gain a simple love like the others . "

.

.

.

.

.

.

( .....Almost after 30 minute later . )

"......That look very suspicious . "

(Nods*)

Currently the duo is hiding to the corner as they scan around the place , they have arrived to the dock and the ships are all line up on the stops but.....

" There's no one here . "

Fang look around the area no engineer , no pilot , no soldiers .

There's literally no one is here but themself , even if they put all the man power to search for them this place shouldn't be so quiet , empty . It's almost like the place is waving it's hands to welcoming them to pay a visit ! It's too suspicious !

" If this is a trap , it's too obvious . "

(Nods*)

"But if this wasn't a trap, we could escape easily......Which this mostly impossible to be that easy . "

( Nods* )

" Ok, we need a plan for this since we don't turst the situation in front of us now . "

( Nods * )

"......."

( ? )

The element look at the child in front of them waiting for them to do something but the child stares at them with awe and other emotions that the child have never show them before .

( ????? What are you waiting for ???* )

The element still surprise to see the gaze the child gives and is confuse why he show that .

"......puff- sorry."

" Still have to get use to looking at you with that look . Seeing you in this form moving is cute and new."

" It's not everyday that I could see you in this small orb form even I have seen your other form but.....it wasn't friendly or normal looking at all , it was terrifying ........( he still remember that unhuman form that Solar have once greet him in that morning .) "

" You know the story- "

( .......*)

" Anyway- Lets get back to the tack , sorry for the fuzz . "

" Now I'll send some shadow mouse to cheak around the place first then we will personally take a look to the ship to find a way to seal it also need to make sure the lanch pod is good to use and- "

While Fang have starts to summon his shadow mouse he didn't notice( or couldn't tell ) the light element orb form's hue color have a shade of red on them . It look like it's get flustered by Fang's words .

( Did that child just call me cute ??? )

( Not once but twice ! )

( It's not like I haven't get called "Cute" before but it was coming from THIS child , the child that I have keep getting to his nerves to the point that he just throws names on me like " Old-man " ,  " Smart ass " , " Asshole"......It just to the point that the child have not even once have positive words to describe on them before ! )

( And this child just call me cute when I'm in this form ???? )

( So to the fact that I using the least humaniod look is less scary ???? I thought this form is ridiculous to even show it !)

" -during the period I need you to help me to stay alert if something's worng while I do the set ups, tell me if I miss something- "

Fang have start to move since the element didn't respond or even notice the fact that he just drop a bomb to the element to the point that they're planning to rejustified what is the standard of "the form that look harmless to the fact the people no need to have a mental circuit everytime when they saw them . "

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

( After all the cheack ups and picklocking the ship to the point it was ready to leave the place . )

Currently the element and Fang is on the ship ready to take off to the space . But the duo couldn't find themself to be fully accept it , the situation now is too good to be ture , too easy to get the things done .

From the experience they had , this must be have something is missing that they didnt found that will leads them to the traps the enemy have waiting for them to step on .

But they have checked everything they could .

But the results always the same : There's no one here, the security sensor are not triggered and no traps.

.......

Should they trust themself or the results ?

......

They have to leave the mother ship and this is a good chance .

" So are you ready Solar ? "

( Nods *)

"Starting the engine and ready to launch- "

[CLICK !  *]

"......"

" Did you hear that ? "

[CLICK ! *]

The control room's door that was open before have closed along with some extra layers of doors.

Before Fang and the element can rush to the door only to find out the windows also have been sealed and the control room have been take over by something .

The hologram screen pop out a red flower-like symbol as the ship get take over .

[ "AIR VENTING SYSTEM STRATS ACTIVATE "]

As the voice drops the air vents have starts to pumping some red gas to the room .

" Shit ! Solar I need help ! "

Fang try to breaks the door with his shadow fusion while the element have reform to human form .

" MOVE ! "

Solar launch their solar beam to destroy the door but also have fell to the ground for the huge energy lost .

" Let's go ! Hang on Solar ! "

Fang grab Solar and swing them to his shoulder carry the element like a sack as they running to the exit .

( Crap the headache is getting more worse- I have to reform to orb form again before I starts to forget- )

[ Thud ! * ]

Solar felt they got dorp to the floor .

" Kid ?- "

[ Cough- *]

" T-trun to o-orb now "

[Cough ! Cough ! Cough !*]

" Quick ! "

Solar notice the red smoke have started to surround them and Fang have fell to the ground as he voilently coughs .

" Kid- "

" Orb form now ! "

Solar watch the child in front them painfully tyring to hold his breath to keep away the smokes getting in his lungs , Solar is unsure why the child insisting but they still do it .

Once they're in orb form the child grabs them and shove them to a pouch before they could ask , the child wrap the pouch with his shadow barrier that cause them lost the sight in front them .

( KID ?- )

They can feel the pouch is getting pick up by someone that is not the kid ( Why you ask ? Because they still can heard the child is still coughing painfully on the ground when they got pick up ) and starts running away .

Snice the element can't see what is happening , they only can judge from the voice around them .

" Ge-t them- ! "

"Where's- th- element ! "

[ Bunch of foot steps coming * ]

" We got- kid- "

".......! ......find ! "

"......."

.

.

.

.

.

.

Solar have no long hear the voice from the outside (they no longer can hear the child's breath ) , the shadow barrier have been deform which allow Solar peak thorough can finally see who is the carreir .

It's shadow eagle that have carry the pouch , it have strats to deform slowly like the shadow barrier . Before the eagle disappears it have take Solar to the air vent to hide . The eagle have fully vanish as it arrived the destination leaving the element alone .

(......what just happend ? )

( ....... )

( Why ? )

it should be me .

(  I-I have to save him ! )

It was your fault .

( I can't let them take him away ! If this organization runs just like how they are in the past- )

They're going to kill him .

( I have to find where are they taking him ! I have to protect them from them ! )

You're going to fail .

( I have to- )

What's the point ? You can't do anything .

You're going to lead another young soul to it's down fall again , nothing but mesery .

( Shut up !  )

You have failed to protect what you should protect again , another youngster's blood is going to be shed again .

And it was all beacause of you .

( ...... )

See ? You can't deny that-

( SHUT UP !- )

[ Crack ! * ]

A sound snap Solar back from their noisy thoughts as they realized that they seem to have grab something . It was the same food bars that Fang have share with them earlier come from the pouch that the child have shove them in , inside the pouch also have stuff different stuff-

Small tools , some spare part use on the ships and some personal items , but what caught Solar eyes was some of the food bars packs have some lable on it :

" Coffee flavor : Petir , Solar , Tanah " , " Extra sweet flavor : Angin , Air , Daun . " , " With spices : Api " , " Normal Coco flavor : For everyone . "

( ..... )

( So the kid have these food bars......for them ? )

It was pointless how he cares about them .

( ...... )

( How cute , he even have " Special carrot flavor "  )

He might have no chance to taste it again because he will die .

( ..... )

( Hm?- " The annoying element's annoying but useful advice. " )

(......)

(......E-excuse me ??? )

Solar's mod who was just sorrow before replace with offended . Who is now holding a notepad that is written the title that Solar just read and frantically flip through the pages .

Page No. 19 :

Today I learn the fact that you can actually melt the god damn wall on the planet XXX with a tooth paste . Note : I did not belive the fact that It actually works . ( How's that even works ??) the page have a photo of Gopal smiling at the camera with a tooth paste on his hand while the wall behind him are melted along with Fang behind the scean faceplaming . *

Page No.22 :

......So how does no one told me before that you can use Just the orange to get rid of those parasites that have been making me itch for like a week . ( to the fact the old man decided to tell me that AFTER a week is not cool at all ! I have tried many attemps and can't even go on the mission because of this ! ) The page fill with the fail attempts method with some rough sketch with stick mans that have look like Solar get drew ugly purposely .*

Page No.30 :

So today I learn about how to use the....." Formula " that Solar created to recalculate the old maps location that TAPOPS can't justify where it was the location before . ( Not gonna lie it was very fun to learn that and explore new areas in the space .) The page fill with some calculate sketches with a formula on top the page lable with a remark . *

Solar is expecting offending words from the note pad and felt surprise the fact the child have write the small event happened on the past and have seriously note it down......but seriously can't he use a better title ?

Flip to the end , a sentence have been showed to Solar that a memory come to their mind .

.

.

.

" Hey ? Solar ? Can I ask something ? "

" Hm ? Kid ? What are you doing here ? Shouldn't a child like you should go to sleep ? "

In a usual night that Solar stays in the libary with a guest come to them in the middle of theirs research .

" ......can't sleep , have something in mind needed a answer . "

"......what question needs to be answer ? "

"......If one day everyone is in danger and the power I hold unable to reslove it- What should I do ? "

" Oh that's a tricky question , it depends on what kind of person you are and the skills you had . "

" ......What ? "

" Can't get the picture ? Pff- "

" I'm still here you know ! "

" Ok let me be simple- "

" If there's a fire in the forest , me and my brothers are there . "

" Who do you think can stop the fire ? "

" Um......Ais ? "

" Nope ! All of us can . "

" Eh- ? "

" In fact to your common sense Ais have the most effective method to slove it , but that does not mean that the others can't . "

" We still can stop the fire, it just different ."

" Petir can stop the fire by clearing out the objects that will burn, then there's no thing left to burn . "

" Angin can control the air pressure and the gas to put out them . "

" Tanah probably will use the sand to put out them or build a wall that keeps the fire away so the damage is less . "

" Api ? ......They might end up burning all the things before the fire could reach it . "

" Daun ? They can summon the plant that have the tolerate against fire and smack out the fire . "

" Smack out ? "

" You'll get the picture . So anyway- "

" If it was me ? I'll just improvise and use my brain . "

" That's not really a answer ? "

" Trust me on this , once you have the knowledge to see the situation have many ways to resolve it . You have to pick the best one , after all I have that brain for this . "

" Alright return to your problem , other than the shadow power of yours . What kind of skill you have own by yourselve ? "

" Remember- "

[ " What you have gain form the power is not forever but what skill you hold will stays with you forever . No one can take that away from you . " ]

Solar read the line again along with the last paragrah that look like written in the past compare to the line .

[ " What I gain from Ocho might have the day need to be return or get taken away , I'm afraid if that day have come I have no longer the rights to stay with my friends . After the day Abang have come to the earth and froce us to hand the watch , it scary even after he have return the watch but.....what if one day it happends again and I really can't protect anything ......again . " ]

( .....Wow , I didn't know that bothered the kid before . )

(......What am I doing now ? Sulking while the kid might suffering ? )

( Oh Hell NO ! )

Solar close the notepad and starts to list out the things in the pouch .

( I might not able to fight face to face now but that does not mean that I can get the kid out the harm , I have to use tricks for this now and improvise with the things currently limited .)

( Hang in there Fang, help is on the way ! )

.

.

.

.

.

.

(To be continue )

Something i noticed now is that you use they/them for the spirits, That's cute, knowing that Spirits can just be anything

Its adorable that the brothers are basically ramapaging looking for their brother, although they need to calm down because it seems like them seperate from boi can still make them forget, then again, that's just another reason why they need to go get their brother

Sweet that Fang has a whole log/journal about his little adventures as well as Solar's advice to Fang

of course Solar is cute in his orb form, but he would accept that only from boi UvU

but, seems like his and Fang's relationship is getting more better

wondering who this mystery anatagonist is~

also LEZ GOO OLD MAN SOLAR SAVE FANG

[amloveabledeathmo]

Thinking about and discussing my IDK I'm Tired idea with my spouse @howlingwolf23 we came up with a more fleshed out idea, but not really from Thranduil's point of view, kinda more an omniscient point of view.

First we will change Gimli to be 70 so about 5 years over what I think is the age of majority for dwarves and then we add him to the company. So the capture of the dwarves happens like in the movies. They get taken to the cells, for the most part the families are grouped together but Gloin was causing issues after Legolas insulted his precious son who is right over there. As punishment Gimli gets stuck in his own cell a little past Fili and Kili and most of the cells are spread apart to make communication difficult for the dwarves, they pretty much can only see maybe one other group of dwarves and would have to yell to communicate. Bilbo is of course sneaking around and bridging the gap, passing messages and assurances, helping keep morale steady.

Well Tauriel finds herself drawn to Kili and starts spending a good hour or two a day sitting beside the cell talking to him which bothers Legolas who does not want to get his bestie in trouble so instead of complaining to any other elf he finds himself at the very last occupied cell, Gimli's. Pretty soon he is also spending hours of his freetime chatting with a dwarf (and apologizing for calling him a goblin mutant).

We'll say about 2 months have passed and Legolas has fallen hard for this well spoken and spirited (and handsome) dwarf. He decides as the kings son he can do what he wants and takes Gimli out of the cell to show him different places he's described to him. Of course at first Thranduil is like wtf why are you leading a dwarf around our home. Legolas spins a story about trying to get Gimli to turn on his companions by showing him the beauty of the elves and keeping him away from the rest of the dwarves. Thranduil can see by how close the pair are standing that there is far more than that going on but decides he does not want to know. So is like okay yeah whatever but I don't want dwarves all over my house.

Eventually though the pair start holding hands and sitting nearly in eachother's laps and Bilbo is very careful to let everyone who is not Gloin know about this developement (he also tattles on Kili and Tauriel). The dwarves are of course upset but what can they do about it. Then the kinda but also not so discreet making out starts to happen. The dwarves are in an uproar about and elf taking advantage of their youngest company member and Bilbo has to confess it was in fact Gimli who yanked Legolas down into a kiss first, which brings mixed feelings, yay Gimli has found a love, good for him for pursuing it, and absolutely no it's an elf.

Gimli and Kili talk to Bilbo and decide to share the secret about him sneaking around to their elves. Bilbo tells them about his plan to get the dwarves out via to barrels but he's not sure how to distract all the guards. Legolas comes up with the idea to have a heavy make out session with Gimli in the corridor leading to the room with the barrels because he knows none of the elves want to tell his father so they all just turn around and act like they've seen nothing whenever they encounter Gimli and Legolas.

The evening of the party Legolas makes sure to very undiscreetly grab Gimli's hand and lead him away, he looks back to see his father just straight up grab the bottle of wine and start chugging and can see that the elves are side eyeing him and his father uncomfortably.

Tauriel sneaks off soon after and lifts all the cell door keys. Her and Bilbo release the prisoners quickly and cautiously head towards the barrels, Tauriel goes ahead a few paces to check that the path is clear. It's all going pretty well until Gloin manages to catch Gimli and Legolas making out. He takes a deep breath and the others have realized what's about to happen so they grab him and cover his mouth and drag him away, while muffled yelling and thrashing occurs. Gimli is alerted by the noise so the snogging stops and they both turn to look. Gimli and Legolas have a hurried discussion before following the group.

That's as far as we got. We aren't sure if we should have the elves go with their dwarves and help with Erebor and Laketown or if they should stay behind and run distractions. But thinking they go with the dwarves so that way Thranduil has a reason to show up pretty soon in time to help with the battle whereas if the elves stay behind they could make the army mobilization not happen in time. But anyway it would be a happy ending no major character death and Thorin and Bilbo, Gimli and Legolas, and Kili and Tauriel at least all courting.

[enby-jellyfish]

Shipwrecked

Prologue to Pirate's Life For Me

Elizabeth Swann X GN!Reader X Will Turner (POC friendly)

Pronouns: You/Your, They/Them

Summary: A shipwreck brings you, Will, and Elizabeth together.

Warnings: Mention of drowning, mention of death.

Word Count: 660

A/N: Both of them were somehow my queer awakening.

Having pirate parents seems pretty neat at first glance. You get to spend a lot of time on the ocean and have lots of freedom.

That is, until you accidentally got separated.

You remember the battle. It wasn’t anything new, you had already seen countless battles before you even hit double digits.

You had done as you were told; stay out of sight and wait for one of your parents to come get you.

Unfortunately, someone had found you before they did. You had kicked, scratched, hit, and screamed. Anything you could think of. The man ended up dragging you up on deck, but due to the fight you put up you both ended up falling from your parents’ ship.

The man had started drowning instantly, a funny quirk in hindsight, for a pirate to not be able to swim. He had dragged you down with him until you managed to kick him off you.

You remember the feeling of your burning throat as you screamed for your parents, or anyone, to get you back on the ship. Defeated, you had watched the ship sail away from you, the sounds of battle continuing. You had managed to swim to a nearby island where you started figuring out a plan of how to get back to your parents.

Months later, chasing lead after lead you end up stowing away on a merchant vessel traveling through the Caribbean Sea. You are not the only stowaway on this ship though.

A boy, around your age. You found each other when looking for food. He introduces himself as Will Turner. Funnily enough he has a similar goal to yours, he is looking for his father. The two of you immediately click and decide to stick together.

One day a ship with black sails appears seemingly out of nowhere, pirates spilling out and attacking your ship. They are vicious unlike anything you have ever seen before, running through anyone in their path and taking bullets like it’s nothing.

Using the chaos and destruction the pirates are causing, you and Will manage to get off the ship, using a piece of driftwood to stay afloat, Will passing out shortly after your escape.

You watch the ship go up in flames, slowly breaking down and sinking to Davy Jones’ locker. As the black sailed ship sails away, disappearing into the nothing it appeared from, another comes your way.

Your voice sounds hoarse as you yell for help. You hear commotion on the ship and a rope is thrown your way. With great difficulty you and Will are pulled out of the water and hoisted aboard.

You hit the deck with a loud thud. You lay still for a moment, catching your breath before taking in your surroundings. You immediately recognise the funny wigs, formal uniforms, and the Blue Ensign waving in the wind.

This is a ship of the British Royal Navy.

A girl around your age kneels down next to you. “Hello, My name is Elizabeth Swann. Are you alright?” You introduce yourself, you have to play your cards right, you can’t look for your parents in prison, or worse.

“I’m alright, just-” You are interrupted by Will suddenly waking up. He starts panicing but you and Elizabeth manage to calm him down. They introduce themselves to each other and Elizabeth assures him that he is safe and that she’ll watch over him.

Seemingly reassured he passes out again, his movement revealing a golden medallion with a skull marking. You and Elizabeth share a look. You don’t even want to know what would happen to Will if they found him with this obvious pirate symbol. You carefully take the medallion off Will’s neck and put it into Elizabeth’s hand, wrapping your fingers around hers to close it.

“Please, promise to keep this safe.”

She considers you for a moment.

“Yes, I promise.”

You nod and lie back down, exhaustion washing over you and everything going dark.

Next part (TBA)

Masterlist

Thank you for reading <3

[raayllum]

Let’s break this baby down symbolically

Originally this post was longer but my draft didn’t save so I’m doing a quick notes version; if you want more thoughts or have a clarification question please feel free to drop them in my inbox, but hopefully everything will still carry across

Light and dark motif with Callum unintentionally / unknowingly getting close to the darkness, with Ezran and Rayla more in the light. The surface world does not seem to be particularly stormy, more so bright and happy, which is a departure from the previous promo art(s) really highlighting the storm, and how often storms in TDP foretell transformation and disaster (1x01, 2x04, 2x05, 2x07, 2x08, 3x01 when Ez comes home, 4x01, 4x04 before Aaravos possesses Callum at dawn, etc). 

The light-dark duality mirrors Callum’s worries of “What if I’m on a path of darkness” due to its associations with Aaravos: “In darkness, gaze upon a Fallen Star” and “already tainted with darkness, ad destined to play right into my hands.” 

Darkness = dark magic; octopus tentacles have associations with dark magic (Claudia) specifically being used to drag people down (the boys) or catch them (Viren) in terms of control; dark magic / octopus tentacles = control. Control is attached to Aaravos

This is doubly true with associations of water and destiny (“Life is like a river - don’t try to control where the river goes”). If you’re interested in more thoughts on that, check out this meta

Callum perhaps being lured in with curiosity or magical impulse, only to realize he’s in way over his head / being dragged down by something he can’t escape (tentacles having similarities to puppet strings) and/or mirroring his dark magic dreams from 2x08

Ezran being closer makes sense, as he is emotionally closer and currently more reliable to Callum than Rayla has been due to their separation. 

It’s also a nice parallel to Ezran saving Zym (another brother / soulmate) under the ice as well as Rayla and Callum then working to save him, as well, with now Rayla and Ezran working together to save Callum, especially since Ezran almost drowned and Rayla has a specific fear of drowning/water.

In the S1 novelization, Ezran states that his mother’s spirit helped guide him through the darkness to find the glowing (light) egg of the Dragon Prince. Given that Sarai also helped guide Callum towards the Sky arcanum, Ezran possibly carrying / embodying his mother’s spirit while saving his brother would be really beautiful. 

As stated, Rayla being further away makes sense, but it does align her further with the light, and I do think her reaching for Callum (as opposed to a more generic swim pose) is purposeful due to Rayllum (and the show’s) consistent reaching motif.

Rayla’s fear of water isn’t literally about the water (after all, she saved Bait 1.5 days in when she and the glow toad had an immense mutual dislike of each other) but what it represents: shame, self-reflection, fear, guilt, trauma. Rayla left in TTM because she didn’t know how to love Callum and be scared to lose him at the same time in a healthier manner, leading her to majorly hurt both of them. Her swimming through the water could symbolize 1) helping to save Callum (per other foreshadowing as well) in addition to 2) her beginning to learn how to deal with that fear in a healthier way that also lets her stay and be/do what she wants to do. 

And as always, the foreshadowing that Aaravos’ specific prison (darkness, dark magic, tentacles, ocean, etc) is underwater and it will be found / we’ll get some answers about the cube in S5:

[lostfirefly]

Life Must Have It's Mysteries (Ch.4)

Nobody asked me, but the thought of sending my beloved couple on a new journey didn't let me go. Welcome to a new adventure! No idea how many chapters there will be :) Pain continues leading me to art :)

English is not my native language, errors may occur. As always, feel free to share your thoughts :) Masterlist is here.

Description: Our heroes sneak into Baroque Works Castle and stole the map!

Warnings: Fun, fluff, a little scolding, adventure! Shitty shit again:)

Words: 4403 (sorry again)

Buggy x OC from my “You’ve Got the Same Dream as Me” series.

Taglist: @gingernut1314, @operationroots, @hey-august, @rorywritesjunk, @yujo-nishimura (I hope you still like it!)

The title is taken from “Life Must Have It's Mysteries” by Hans Zimmer (OST Inferno).

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“Run? Run? Where? That big baby is blocking the road we came!” Catherine was in a slight panic, pointing her finger at the big man.

“Then we'll find another one!” Buggy grabbed her arm and dragged her along. All Catherine could do was yell “oh, my God.” 

They reached another hallway and started looking around. Buggy pulled her behind a column and covered her with his body. 

“Catherine, now would be a good time to turn on your whole brain and think about where in houses like this your favorite Egyptian pharaohs could have made an extra exit. Mister 4 doesn't have powers, but if he hits with his bat, it won't be good.”

“Mister 4? What a stupid name!” She exclaimed.

“Seriously? Now?” He looked at her, trying to read the answer in her eyes to this stupid expression.

They heared the sound of a lot of footsteps, which were getting closer and closer. 

“Where to go?” Buggy asked, looking at Catherine. 

“I... I don't know!!” She grabbed her head. 

“Catherine, please, focus!” 

“Uh, wait. Wait! If this house was built on the pyramid principle, the building should be oriented on the south pole-north pole axis. Typically, emergency exits in such buildings were in the south. But given that they mixed up east and west, the exit should be on the north side of the building.” 

“Then let's try the north way.” He peeked out from behind the column and checked the path. “Clear, let's go.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her along again. 

“Oh, my God! I’m tired of running!”

They had reached the turnoff when a man's voice came from outside.

“Buggy the Clown!”

The man who had a number three on his head made from his hair stood behind them. The man with the number four on his clothes also approached him. 

“You know him?” Catherine asked and looked at Buggy with wide eyes. 

“Uh, sort of.” He shrugged his shoulders. 

“I haven't seen you since prison.” Said the man with the number of three. 

“Holy crap! You know, you should definitely tell me about this!” Catherine punched Buggy in his shoulder. 

“Is that what you want to talk about right now?” Buggy looked at her and gently shoved her behind him, as Catherine searched with her eyes for a way forward. 

“Holy shit!” She squealed. 

The man in ballet clothes appeared from the other side of the hallway. 

“Why does he look so... How he looks like…” She asked, pointing at the man with two figures in the shape of swans on his shoulders.  

“What are you doing here? I thought we talked about this last time.” Said the man with the number of three.  

The question 'what' was read in Catherine's eyes as she shifted her gaze from Buggy to the men. 

“You won't believe! I took the wrong road.” He smiled and made two small steps back. 

“Yes, it's very obvious. You were clearly on your way somewhere, and then suddenly… you're standing in the middle of the hallway of our headquarters.”

“Well, uh. What can I say, Mister 3? That's me!” Buggy chuckled.

“Mister Three? Who comes up with these stupid names?” Catherine screamed loudly, rolling her eyes. “And you're probably Mister 2, judging by the originality of the names here.” She pointed a finger at the man in ballet clothes. He looked surprised. 

Mister 3 glanced at Catherine. “So, Buggy, why are you here?”

Buggy slipped his hand into the pocket of his denim jacket. Mister 3 spread his legs slightly and stretched out his arms, which began to turn to wax.

“Fuck me!!!” Catherine goggled at his wax hands. “What the fuck is that?”

Mister 3 made a sudden movement with his hand, creating a long wax lasso, and wrapped it around Catherine's leg. 

“Let her go!” Buggy said loudly, taking three knives out of his pocket. 

“Oh my goodness, Buggy! Would you at least say that you carry such things with you?”

“Catherine, shut up, please!” He hissed at her. 

“Oh! Now I see who is she!” Mister 3 jerked his wax lasso sharply, knocking Catherine to the floor and pulling her towards him.

“Fuck!” Buggy abruptly dropped the knives, separated his both arms and grabbed Catherine by the belt on her pants. 

Catherine forcefully began to pull her leg out. “Damn!! I'm so sick of your fucking devil fruits! Let me go!” 

Mister 3 pulled Catherine back toward him. She jerked her leg sharply, and she managed to free it. She quickly stood up, and Buggy’s hands pulled her back to him. 

He attached his hands, took her hand and began to lead her behind his back. “Catherine, on the count of three, run.” He said quietly. 

“How? That ballet dude blocked the way! And what about you?” She asked with concern in her voice and squeezed his hand. 

Mister 3 began turning his hands into wax again.

“I said run. I'll deal with him. And don't let him touch you with his right hand.” Buggy pointed with his eyes at Mister Two and began to pull Catherine away from him with his hand. 

“No, please. I’m not going wit..” She whispered. 

“One… Two... Three!”

Catherine reluctantly let go of his hand and ran quickly. Buggy turned around and sent his knife towards Mister 2, who tried to grab Catherine at that moment. He dodged and she managed to sneak past him. 

She ran two hallways and stopped. 

“Fuck! Fuck!” Catherine felt the paper in her hands. She didn't even notice the map shoved into her hand. “Fuck, Buggy, where are you?” She looked hopefully in the direction from whence she had come running.

Catherine looked around and saw the outline of a door in the wall. She quickly walked over to the drawing, running her hand over it. 

“The exit!” 

She waited briefly for a few seconds, taking two deep breaths. 

“Oh, Catherine, you're going to regret this!” She held onto the wall with her hand and quietly walked backwards. She walked through one hallway when suddenly she saw a small flash. 

Catherine ran forward sharply and slammed into Buggy.

“You're alive!” She threw her arms around his neck. “Thank God! Are you hurt?” Her eyes surveyed his face. 

“What's going to happen to me?" He hugged her.  "Are you okay?”

“Yes!” Catherine ran her hands over his shoulders. “I saw the flash. I thought you.. What was that?”

“Well.. A failed attempt to launch my Muggy Ball.” Buggy scratched his head.

“Your what? What the hell is that thing?” She hit him lightly on the arm.

“Not now, Catherine, not now. Okay. Where do we go next?” 

“I saw the door over there!” She pointed in the right direction. “I'm more than sure it's the exit which we are looking for!” 

“Well then, let's run that way! Hang on!” 

He threw her on his shoulder again and ran in the direction she pointed. They reached the right place. Catherine jumped off his shoulder and began to run her hand over the drawing. “How on earth do you open?”

They heard the sounds of approaching footsteps again. 

“Catherine, hurry!” Buggy took the knives in his hand again and placed them between his fingers.

She was walking from side to side, clutching her head. “Wait! If there's a Shen in this building, it's also a sign of eternal protection. Eternity is infinity, right?” She looked around the wall. “Buggy! Up there! See the little stone at the top! And here, if you look closely, is a drawing of infinity on the wall. We need to guide this stone through that drawing.” 

“Look, baby, if your theory's wrong, you will have a chance to sit in those places from where I escaped.”

“You know, we're going to have a lot to talk about.” She said, periodically glancing over his shoulder towards the sound of footsteps.

Buggy detached his hand and sent it up to a tiny stone that stuck out of the wall. He ran it in the pattern Catherine had pointed out and brought the stone to the floor. 

“Now what?” He asked, looking back toward the sounds that were getting closer and closer. 

“I didn’t install these doors, Buggy! I don’t know how they open! Let's try pulling it!” 

They put their hands on the door and tried a few times to move it sideways. 

“It's not working!" She clasped her hands. " You know, when I decided to start a relationship with you, I didn't think I'd end up in a fucking prison from which, as it turned out, my boyfriend escaped!!” She kicked at the door with all her might in frustration.

They heard a heavy sound.

“It's open!!! It opened!!!” Catherine screamed happily.

“See? You being a little evil has helped us again!” He clicked his tongue and winked.

“Screw you, fucking clown!” 

“Yeah, yeah! You’ll yell at me later! Hurry!” Buggy took Catherine's hand and pulled her into the passage.

Just as they ran for the door, it closed. 

“Well, now I suggest we run for the house exit!” He threw Catherine on his shoulder again and ran down the dark corridors. 

They got out onto the street, climbed over the fence and ran to the car.

“Hell, yeah, Cathie-pie, we're on our way to the treasure!!” Buggy shouted cheerfully as he got into the car. 

“That's all great, but you owe me new sneakers now, Buggy the Clown! That wax man stole one sneaker from my favorite pair.” She showed one socked foot. 

⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭

They were on the road for a little over an hour.  

“Okay. We are now somewhere between Little Garden and Whiskey Peak. Our next stop is in four hours. Good thing you and I stocked up on food and booze.” Catherine threw the map and notebook into the glove compartment of the car, put her feet up on the dashboard, looked at him and stroked his red and white striped bandana. “Hungry?”

“Nah.” 

Suddenly they heard a pop from under the hood. 

“What the fuck?” Buggy stretched his back and tried to understand where the sound was coming from.

“What happened?”

“I don't know!” He jerked the gearshift lever. 

The car went a few more meters and stopped. 

“What the fuck?” Buggy turned the keys in the ignition, pressed the clutch and gas pedals. “Fuck!” He jumped out of the car and looked under the tires first. 

“What's wrong?” Catherine got out of the car. 

“I don't know!!” She could hear the irritation in his voice. “Cathie-pie, push the black and red button near the steering wheel, open the hood for me.”

Catherine climbed up to the steering wheel through her seat. “Done!”

She went back to him. He opened the hood and started checking every detail. 

“Look at you. Checking your car. God, you are so sexy right now.” She leaned on the car and smiled. 

“Please, Catherine! Not now!” He barked loudly. “Shit. The cable and the strap came off.”

“Can you fix it?”

“Fuck! Just fuck!” He slammed the hood, then kicked the radiator grille. 

“What are you so nervous about?” She moved closer to him and wanted to hug him. 

“I said not now!” He yanked her arm away with a growl, stepped back a little, kicked the front tire twice, and leaned his head into the car. 

She tiptoed over to him and put her hand gently on his back. “Buggy Bear, what's wrong?” 

“Could you please don’t call me that!” He barked loudly, walked towards the trunk and sat on the ground.

Catherine tiptoed behind him and sat down on her knees next to him.

“What happened?” She put her hand on his shoulder. 

“It never works out!” He whispered and was almost sobbing. 

“What?” 

“Nothing ever works out. He would have always succeeded…” He continued mumbling to himself. 

She crawled on her knees a little closer and hugged him. “Are you talking about the one whose name we don’t mention? Nah, it wouldn't have worked out for him. You know why?” She stroked his head. “He doesn't have our tandem. Look at how good we are. You and me. We stole the map from these… Moron Words or whatever they are. We've gotten so far together. Because you're in charge of strength and defense, and I'm in charge of brains! What's he got? Nothing. So you're the winner, my little bear.”

She put her head on his shoulder and took his hand. 

“I'm sorry.” He wrapped his hand around her waist.

“Oh, never mind, it's okay.” She looked at him and stroked his cheek. “Can I call you Buggy Bear again?”

“I don’t even understand why I allow you to call me that. You know that I’m against this nickname with every fiber of my soul!”

“And you perfectly know that I don’t care.” She pecked him on the lips. “So what's up, my blue-haired hero? How long will it take you to fix the car?”

“Well, it's gonna take two or three hours for sure. I want to check all the details under the hood. But I'm afraid we're not going any further today.”

“Well, we'll just spend the night here.” She looked around. “There's not a soul around. There's a sandy hill for our two old backs to lean on. We'll make a fire, and I’ll make your favorite hot dogs. Pretty cool, huh?” 

While he rummaged around under the hood, Catherine found a small amount of twigs and looked in the trunk for matches.

“I found some papers here, I'll take some for the fire, ok? Oh, wow! You got newspapers from years ago." She took the newspaper in her hands and straightened out the sheets. "Hah, Orange Town News. Look at this. So much interesting stuff was going on three years ago. Exhibitions, concerts, even fights. Oh, look! The page with the headline "Wanted”. Sounds intriguing! Well, well. What do we have here? Wow! So many faces.”  

Buggy tensed and quickly moved towards her. “Hey! Give me that!”

Without looking up from reading, she took two steps along the ground. “Someone with the name Mihawk. Oh, he's cute. Kuro. Why are they looking for the butler? Did he steal an expensive tea set since they give so much money for it? Arlong. Oh, I remember that name. Bug...”

“Catherine! Give it to me!” He snatched the papers from her hands. 

“...gy the Clown??!!” She looked at him with surprised eyes, and it seemed she even stopped blinking. “It's you!”

“No, it's not me. This is a different Buggy!” He began to fold the newspaper.

“Are you taking me for a fool? Believe me, the world couldn't handle two Buggies. It would just collapse instantly.” Catherine hit her palms, showing an explosion. 

“For the last time, it's not me!!”

“Yes, it's you. No offense, but I don't mistake you for anyone else thanks to one of your distinctive features.” She jabbed her finger at the picture in the paper. “You know, I'm getting more and more questions. There's a $15 million bounty on your head! What have you done that's worth so much money?”

“Doesn't matter.” He threw the newspapers back into the trunk, and walked back to the engine. 

“My little Bear!”

He was annoyed. “You could have asked first what you can take in the trunk and what you can't. After all, I can have my personal stuff.” 

“Oh my God!" Catherine rolled her eyes. "You're an emotional hurricane today, Buggy!” 

“Could you please.. listen to me for once in your life! I don't want you to know. Is it clear?” He hissed through his teeth.

“What did I do? It's just a fucking newspaper. Stop overreacting!”

“Oh, fuck you!”

Catherine stood next to the car and waited about fifteen minutes, then quietly approached him and gently placed her hand on his back. “My love, let's talk. What happened? Why did you react like that?”

He didn't answer. 

“Are you not gonna talk to me at all?”

Buggy silently removed her hand from his back and continued to mutter something to himself.

“Oh, well, the hell with you, fucking clown. Our drama queen got mad over some nonsense!” Catherine barked back at him, turned around and went to the place to prepare a fire pit.

She sat on the sand near the sand hill for an hour, drawing lines with a stick on the ground. She looked at Buggy, who was walking from trunk to hood, occasionally swearing at the engine.

Catherine exhaled, stood up, and slowly walked over to him. "How's it going?" 

He didn't answer anything.

“Are you still offended? I'm sorry if I said or did something wrong. I was just a little surprised to see your face there.”

“Uh-huh.” 

“But I don't care about that poster if it scares you.” She took another half step toward him, putting her chin on his shoulder and gently rubbing his head. “Bzzz… What are you doing?” 

He exhaled heavily, looked up at her, and started laughing. 

“Why are you laughing?” She asked and spread her hands in confusion.

Buggy turned his back to the hood and pulled her closer to him. Catherine immediately wrapped her arms around his neck. 

He looked into her eyes and smiled. “How do you make it, so I can't be mad at you for more than ten minutes?”

“Ten minutes? Oh, come on! You didn't talk to me for an hour. And sometimes at home, you sulk at me for two hours! You always walk from corner to corner grumbling, and at this moment you look like a sullen cat!” She made a grumpy face imitating him. 

“My little shit!” He took her hand and kissed it. “I’m sorry!”

“Oh my gosh! I will probably someday make the Earth rotate against its axis. Buggy the Clown apologized twice in one day!” She pressed her forehead against his and said quietly. “We did good today, yeah? We had two fights in less than an hour. We're going for the personal record.”

“I.. did--”

“Oh! Don't worry, my silly clown.” Catherine stroked his head and kissed him on his cheek. “This is a relationship. This shit happens sometimes. We're just getting to know each other better, that's all. Besides, if life with you was like a world of pink ponies, I'd go crazy.” 

He kept his eyes on her for a long time, slowly running his hands down her back. “Why are you with me? I think you could have found someone better th..”

“Ts!” She pressed her finger to his lips. “I told you. I don't need anyone else. I found the best guy who made to keep my heart beating. Why does it bother you?” 

He only shrugged his shoulders.

“Alright, we’ll talk about this later. Okay! I’ll grab a beer and gonna make a fire now. I'll grill sausages for your favorite hot dogs. And if you're not mad at me anymore, finish up here and come to me, okay?”

He nodded. 

“Love you, my Hurricane Buggy!” Catherine pecked him in his nose. 

“Love you too, my cotton candy.”

She brought beer from the trunk, made a fire, and glanced at him from time to time while she fried sausages. “Are you coming? It's almost done.”

He closed the hood, shook off his hands, took a plaid from the car, came to Catherine and heavily exhaled, collapsed on the ground next to her. 

“Tired?” She ran her hand over his head. 

“Nah.”

“Do you want mustard or ketchup on your sausage?”

“Both!”

“Then open the ketchup for me, because I can't do it.” Catherine tried to open the bag with her hands. 

“Give it to me.” He took the ketchup packet from her hands, pulled a knife out of his denim jacket pocket, cut off the tip, and handed the open packet into Catherine's hands. 

"Mmm, delicious." Buggy slowly licked the remaining trace of ketchup off the knife several times.

Catherine looked at him, froze for a second, feeling goosebumps run down her back. "I hate you!"

He looked at her questioningly. “What for now?”

Catherine put a sausage in a bun, sprinkled it all generously with mustard and ketchup, and put the hot dog in his hands. 

“Here you go, my blue-haired hero.” She opened two bottles of beer. “How's your hot dog? Tasty?” 

Buggy nodded and sipped his beer. Catherine watched him happily eating the bread and sausage, and ran her hand over his bandana. 

She couldn't resist and kissed him on his cheek five times. “You're so cute!” 

He immediately became red as his nose. 

Finishing the hot dog, Buggy set the beer on the ground and threw the plaid over Catherine's shoulders. 

“Let me in here!” She spread his legs, rolled over his foot with an "ouch!” and heard “baby, why can't you sit like a normal person”, sat down between them and pressed her back against his chest. “That's much better.”

He hugged her instantly. 

“Look at this! So beautiful!” Catherine ran her hands over his arms. “Why haven't we done this before? Sometimes we should just go somewhere in the desert. Make a fire, eat sausages and look at the stars. Just you and me.”

“If you want to, and it will make you happy, we will do it. I’ll do anything to make you the happiest girl in the world, my Cathie-pie.” Buggy took her hand. “See that bright star over there?” He pointed at the sky with their hands holding together. 

“Yeah.”

“That's Sirius.”

“Really?”

“Honestly? I have no idea.”

Catherine laughed, then suddenly sighed heavily and ran her fingers over her wet eyes.

“What's wrong, my cotton candy?” He asked with concern in his voice.

“I.. I  don't know. I thought how sad that my parents had died. I miss them. They would have loved you.”

“I don't think your parents would approve of a relationship with a freak with a big nose.” Buggy answered quietly and ran his fingers over her arm.

“Don't say those terrible things about yourself. You are handsome, funny, you take care of me. You love to surprise me. Although you're noisy, overdramatic and sometimes your surprises are ve-e-ry strange.” Сatherine sighed heavily again. “I would really like for you to meet.” She felt how he hugged her tightly and pressed his cheek to her temple. “My mom would be happy for me. After all, her daughter found a mysterious man who’s worth 15 million dollars.”

“Please, don't!” Buggy rolled his eyes.

“What? I'm.. I'm curious. You told me about your trainings on the island and everything else. But you didn’t tell me why you cost a lot of money. Although, I would give more money for you! 15 million isn't enough. 3 billion is fine. And I would also include you in some powerful organization. You would be the most important person there. But if you don't want to tell me, it's okay. Just for your information, I think it's cool. And by the way, you look so hot in that poster.” Catherine took his bottle of beer and took a sip. “What if you really are some kind of scary pirate? I've loved stories about them since I was a child. My father used to tell me a lot of tales about them. You know, we sometimes spent the whole evening in bed rereading "Treasure Island".”

He kissed her temple. “Now that explains a lot.” 

“Oh! Wait, wait! What if somewhere in the port of Cairo your ship is docked. And someday you will show it to me, and then you will take me somewhere far far away.” Catherine smoothly pointed into the distance with her hand.

“Cathie-pie, baby, please. Stop.”

She kept silent for a moment. “Do you think we're gonna find that blue diamond?”

He exhaled and put his chin on the top of her head. “I don't know. I hope so. But even if we don't, it'll be one of those stories that we will remember when we grow old. Together.” Buggy quietly accented the last word.

“Judging by the gray hair on your temples and eyebrows, you will grow old before me.”

“Little shit! I'm not much older than you!” He kissed her temple twice.

“Don't you think this reminds you of that adventure we had? The day I found out about your chop chop thing. We were sitting in the desert by the fire.” She ran her finger over his knuckle.

“Of course I remember. That evening when I had my first click.”

“What?” Catherine looked at him in surprise.

His face changed as he realized what he had said. “Fuck! I let it slip.” Buggy seemed a little bit scared.

“Did you fall in love with me then?” Catherine didn't take her eyes of him.

“No, I fell in love with you later. You pissed me off then. Because you were always being hysterical and nagging me. But that day, I didn't understand why a nice girl like you cared about me. And you still do that. And I still don't understand it, though.”

“Well, because you saved that nice girl from a scary man and she couldn't ignore it. Then you saved that nice girl again. And then again. And then somehow that nice girl ended up falling head over heels in love with you. And just you to know, that girl loves taking care of you.” She stroked his cheek and squinted her eyes playfully. “First click… That's interesting. Can I ask?” 

“Oh, no! Please, stop asking "when did you fall in love with me" questions.” Buggy looked at her with puppy eyes.

“Why? I'm so interested! Okay, I'll ask you later!”

She invited him with her finger to tilt his head closer to her and kissed him on the lips. She broke the kiss and looked into his eyes. 

“You're not leaving me, are you?” Buggy asked with a note of fear in his voice.

“Of course no. I'm so glad I met you, my silly clown. And I'm so glad you didn't let me go home.” She tucked her legs in, curled up, snuggled comfortably under his armpit and covered him with the plaid. “I love you so, so much, my Buggy Bear.”

“You tell me that every day, cotton candy. Aren't you tired?”

“Oh, shut up, I'll say it as many times as I want.”

[mirror-to-the-past]

So.... I bolted to the finish line of Dream Drop as I had nothing else to do today.

I am still collecting many thoughts, sentiments, attempts at analysis, etc, as I always do, but this game just had a lot to offer so I'm still weeding through the freshly tilled flowerbed that is my brain at the moment. Holy mother of run-on sentences (you're gonna see a lot of those).

First off, I wanna thank this game for doing so much for Sora and Riku's characters. The inverse development they had through the course of the plot was really interesting to follow, actually, and none of it's out of nowhere!

Since KH1, Sora's had the repression subplot and embracing the strength of others as his own. Here, he tried to do the same, but with everything that's happened to him since, all of which he doesn't even necessarily remember, and all of the emotions and memories he's been touched with and made more and more aware of- he's on shaky ground and the same ol' methods don't fit like they used to! Understandable! And Xehanort/13 Darkness gang just feeds into that. He expands on Sora's questioning of his identity, suggests the lack of validity of his emotions. Everything that could be used to describe Sora in a positive light in wake of what's happened to him, he finds a negative spin on it to really dig at Sora's core:

'You're confused about the direction your life has taken? Hm, wonder how much of you is even real. Your emotions? Memories? Could be fabrications. Or someone else's. Who knows...'

'Your heart is a refuge for lost souls, hoping to find a new future? Nah, screw that. Your heart's a prison. Your very existence binds people, Sora. And of course, you just love holding people back.'

'Aw, you follow where your heart leads? Cute. People's feelings have never led them astray before, huh? Why don't you just keep being a precious little idiot though, it works great for us.'

Xigbar particularly, was brutal as always. Loved the scenes with him and Sora in The World that Never Was. So well crafted. He towers over him, gets all up in Sora's business and you can see how uncomfortable Sora is. He pokes directly at Sora's two biggest insecurities:

Weakness; being incapable and helpless.

Not being wanted/needed, or dragging others down.

He goes on his whole spiel where he specifically highlights how Sora's pretty much leftovers. He acts like he's a good for nothing- "As if the Keyblade would choose a wimp like you." And childish for simply feeling the pain of others: "Oh... thank you, Sora's heart, for pushing him right into our clutches. Aren't hearts great? Steer us wrong every time." (Love that line) And Sora figures out that Nobodies have the capability of essentially learning to gain their own heart (CALLED IT, YES- BUT ALSO 😭 you poor guys. I think every party that could have benefitted either didn't care or didn't figure it out.), only to be further disparaged by Xemnas essentially being like 'Yeah, and then they got manipulated anyway, hah. Just like you.' Just two grown ass men bullying and gaslighting a teenage boy to heighten his insecurities. Because "possession" just seems to be a symbol for one losing themselves.

Xehanort as a character just gives those vibes of an individual who takes, takes, and breaks someone down until they don't feel like themselves anymore, becoming an extension of their manipulator. He preys upon vulnerability and lack of self assurance and it's so good, hah. So, that's the reading I find most appropriate for his thematic relevance, in relation to KH's continuous crisis of what makes up an identity. I mean, just look at how Xehanort describes the others they were considering as a dark vessel- Riku's "immune to the darkness," in other words, immune to obfuscation/has more solid connections. Roxas was considered as too driven, assured in his place in Sora's heart when he forged his own trial-by-fire path. Both people that came to peace with themselves and what they wanted through hardship, one way or another. Now, I'm not saying Sora hasn't felt hardship, but when your theme is "repression," he's up against amnesia, feelings of others encroaching on his own, and a lack of self evaluation. He has more of himself in others, at the moment, and that's leaving him vulnerable.

So, you can only imagine how Sora feels at the game's conclusion, denied a rank of Keyblade Master, those words lingering in his mind as one of the most recent things he's heard, near death(?) experience, and Sora had been filled in I'm sure on how Riku was endangering himself for Sora's sake. I'm sure he feels super great about all that.

(His "What do you want me to see?!" line after Roxas disappeared... haha... I'm well.)

Meanwhile, Riku. His whole arc was the polar opposite! By the end of this game, he was the most self assured than we've seen him the whole series! 🎉 Hooray! At least someone gets to be happy! :'D

But for real, *wow.* Personal quip, I doubt I need to go heavily into the queer connotations of Riku's journey to easier vulnerability and self acceptance, especially in this game, because I'm sure anyone who takes time to read this can probably see it, but wow. The way he learned to change his reflexes and actions throughout the course of the story in a number of small, meaningful ways was so sweet. It was cheesy, sure, but him openly laughing with the other teens in Traverse Town. Him admitting to the nature of his insecurities to help another, and then getting comforted by Esmeralda in return, who assured him it was understandable to have walls around his heart/keep parts of himself separate from the world when he was still unsure and figuring out his feelings (lines that drive me crazy, 2023). Him rolling his eyes at the "All for one and one for all," motto before reflecting on Sora's openness and inclusion, and deciding to give it a try, himself. So many little things where he learned to laugh and reminisce freely and it reminded me of the snippet of how he was when he was younger in BBS, which, speaking of- all those steps towards healthiness made it so that throughout the entire game, unlike CoM, where he fought in darkness with self hate, and Days, where he lost himself completely, he never battled with notable levels of internal darkness to try to win anything. He found his strength to protect the things that matter, like he always wanted, by being himself, unapologetically.

...I wish I played this game in middle school or something. Alas.

(Also Riku Dream Eater theory was a go, boys! Also like how there was no explanation other than *X. Heartless voice* "Yes adopted son of darkness, you were down so bad you changed species to protect Sora from bad dreams as soon as you subconsciously felt suspicious vibes." And that's all we're gonna fucking get, so deal with it *mic drop*. 😂 Was pleasantly surprised Sora's clothes were also plot relevant, and I feel better about disliking them now. They branded him, eugh.)

Speaking of being yourself, but perhaps being too many of yourselves, in this case, here's my obligatory "cries at the endgame" sentiments. This one was less hype than the others, but punched me directly in the heart instead. Oh. My. GOD? That whole sequence of Riku diving into Sora's heart (with all of his memories floating past? Lord I'd be so embarrassed if I was ever in such a situation- it's so personal, y'know?), entering its innermost reaches, answering the questions... holy guacamole guys I think I left a part of me on those sunset beaches, there. That whole scene was a KH1 reference with the questions (I answered in terms of how I best thought Riku would answer), Riku and Xion's sitting placements on the Paopu tree (also Riku saw Xion as Sora *fist pumps in sad success*), and I'm almost *certain,* especially since it was right before "What are you most afraid of" that my theory of Riku overhearing the Sora&Kairi dock convo in the first game was valid. I mean, just look at the dude's face after staring out at the sunset. M'boy Riku looked downright melancholy and I trust KH microexpressions with my life. (And speaking of microexpressions, Sora's smile looked suspiciously forced when congratulating Riku on becoming a Master, poor fella. He was trying so hard to be a good sport about everything with that messy situation.)

Dream Drop Distance did so much with how we're finally having all of the separate plot points converge and it was so surprisingly satisfying. Sora seems to be picking up more about Naminé, he's aware of Xion and is trying to figure out who she is. Roxas seems to be losing himself or doubting who he is outside Sora and aaaahh?? No?! My beautiful boy, don't do this, we'll get you out! I miss Axel, but we've got Lea, who keeps getting deadnamed (he got chosen as a Wielder by the universe for his troubles). I want to see more of Ienzo, he endears me, especially when he's told "shut up nerd" by Lea. Foreshadowing about Ventus (when he smiled upon feeling Sora's happiness with the Dream Eaters post-credits, something got me in my core about imagining Ventus experiencing all of Sora's joys and hurts while he grew up. I wonder if he'll feel any affection for Sora's friends as if they were his own, as well.). We finally got Ansem's data he implanted within Sora. Kairi is being brought back into the plot since KH2!! HYPE! *On my hands and knees*

Anyway this game was good. I probably have more to say because there was just so much but yeah.

Edit: Almost forgot the thing I groaned at my TV for earlier! ^_^

*ahem*

They composed a Heartsong and each of their hearts play a piece of a Duet version of Dearly Beloved, which is the Title Theme for the Entire Franchise, and Definitely Doesn't have any romantic connotations as a phrase or anything. Also they Definitely do not have a Two-Part-One-Whole Keyblade that isn't (so far, I'll catch up) explained, and is a phenomena not previously noted throughout the games, that has a Paopu Fruit hanging off the end.

Man, all this stuff tuckers an epic gamer out. Think I'll go replay Hades, Stardew Valley, Undertale/Deltarune as a break, considerably less gay games. (Har, har)

[oppipopi]

Tragedy in AvA 5

I've been in fd sticks for almost 2 years now and how tired I am of seeing a Lord in the role of a villainous villain from time to time for the reason "Well, his name is the Dark Lord, so he's evil and does evil things" You don't think that I'm trying to justify him somehow, no. He's an asshole and it's true. But I just want to say that perhaps the personality of Lord is much deeper and more complex than it may seem at first glance.

In short, post-reflections on the personality of Lord, his conflict with Chosen, as well as their relationship. I don't pretend to any canonicity, it's just my thoughts. Let's go!

To begin with, the stick names have no effect on the personality and character of the characters. This is proved by Vic, who in the first minute of his life swore at the creator and almost "defeated" Alan, as well as Chose, who from the first second of his appearance decided to choose the path of ultra violence and blow everything to hell. I think no one will argue that these are slightly different associations that come to mind when we hear the words Victim and Chosen One. Thus, we conclude that the name of the stick affects only the abilities of the bearer, but not the personality.

let's move on

I often see such an interpretation of the personality of Lord, where he is arrogant, aggressive and does not disdain to assert himself by bullying those who are weaker. (I'll make a reservation right away. This interpretation takes place and I do not forbid anyone to think so, but now about something else)

I don't think Lord has the desire to assert himself at the expense of the weak. He does not have the same bitterness towards the world and unremitted rage that Chosen has (four years in prison is no joke to you, and he was kind of mad from the very beginning, so yes …), which he releases at large. I think Lord has more fear of being rejected and abandoned again (as he was abandoned by Alan during the battle with Chosen), so he arranges the whole debauch more out of the thought that "This is what Chosen likes. This is what unites us"

Have you ever thought about what a really big influence Chosen could have on the Lord, and that most likely Lord in AvA5 is what he is to a greater extent because he got involved with the "bad company" in the person of Chosen?

Just to remind you that they were friends for seven years. SEVEN YEARS, DO YOU UNDERSTAND!!!?? And for at least five years, Chosen was satisfied with his way of thinking in the spirit of "arrange destruction, order sucks" and "there are bastards everywhere, cattle all around, give them heat, arrange a pogrom!"

I'm leading all this to the fact that it was Chosen who dragged Lord into all this. He showed him this world and how to behave in it. He held out his hand to him and offered to destroy Alan's computer to smithereens!

It's hard not to be grateful when someone who is capable of killing you, and was going to do it, suddenly decides to save your life and even offer cooperation. I don't know if Lord agreed out of fear, or for some other reason, but I think at this moment Lord mentally exalted Chosen over himself, put him in priority I mean, Lord is the only character who has been assigned a mission (and not just any, but the destruction of Chosen! I think this also played a role in his attitude to destruction and murder). What is it like to be born and immediately receive an order from above? Do not have your own opinion about the situation, but still faithfully execute orders… Despite the fact that eventually Lord stopped following the decree, I think he is still subconsciously waiting for orders. Only now from Chosen. And when he gets it (it doesn't matter if Chose says it directly, or if Lord himself thinks out what he might like), he does it. I am leading to the fact that Lord has completely lost his moral compass. He has no understanding of what is good and what is bad. On top of everything else, He is also follower! He has his own opinion, but no one has taught him how to use it. He only chooses a leader for himself and takes his words and views at face value. Of course, over time, from an authoritative figure, Chosen becomes a best friend in the eyes of Lord. But he still puts him above himself. He puts Chosen's ideals above his own. (although, I don't think that Lord had any ideals before meeting Chosen)

But Chosen's ideals have changed over time, and he forgot to tell Lord about it… Or is it a little different here?

As I wrote above, Chosen himself changed the personality of Lord, and therefore, we can say that Lord in AvA5 is in many ways similar in character, and even in habits to Chosen from AvA3.

By the way, have you ever noticed how much the Chosen from AvA2-3 and the Chosen from AvA5 actually differ in vibe? In AvA5, Chosen seems to me much more restrained, collected, quiet and thoughtful. And also immensely tired. We know that Chosen has rethought his views, but what prompted him to do it? Previously, he did not care about the screams of others, their fear. What has changed? I think that through destruction, intimidation, violence, Chosen released his endless anger and hatred, which seems to have been with him from the very beginning (maybe all the empty-heads created by Alan have their own conditional collective mind? And that's why Chosen got Vic's experience on some mental level? He doesn't know the situation, he doesn't have Vic's memories. Only a feeling of fear, rage and a desire to escape.) But at some point it just stopped producing results. One day he just froze in the middle of the burning streets and realized that he felt absolutely nothing but emptiness devouring from within. Then Chosen probably wondered for the first time, is this really what he wants? He wanted to be free, but is it freedom? Then Chosen begins to change and withdraw more and more into himself, trying to figure out what he wants. And he understands. He understands that he no longer wants to live like this, that he no longer wants to have anything to do with the person he was before, understands that he wants to be better. He wants to contemplate and create, not destroy. That this is the only way to become truly free.

Chosen becomes disgusted with the person he was in 2011. He hates him. He's disappointed in him.

And he sees this man in Lord too clearly.

The same habits. The same facial expressions. The same mindset.

Lord reminded him too much of the one he hated so much, the one he wanted to forget forever. Renounce. Expunge from life.

Maybe that's why he put off this conversation for so long? Maybe that's why he got so angry when Lord (usually docile) did not listen to him and went against him?

Speaking of Lord. Let's look at the situation from his side. You and your best and only friend have been keeping the entire Internet at bay for several years in a row, living soul to soul and just having fun. But at some point your friend suddenly changes. He no longer laughs with you, does not rejoice at the new trashed site. Does not look in your direction. Your friend no longer likes everything that once united you. All that he himself showed you. It's unclear. It's scary. And you're trying to fix it. To take revenge on the common offender. Increase the scale of destruction (maybe then Chosen will have fun again? Maybe he just needs more entertainment??) But he tell you no again. Without explaining anything. You're angry. Get angry because you don't understand. Get angry because you're scared. And you keep doing the only thing you know best, in the hope that it will fix something…

The main tragedy in AvA 5, as for me, is that Chosen created an enemy for himself. He had won Lord over to his side. Chosen himself raised the Dark Lord as we see him in AvA5 And then he changed. But he couldn't change Lord again, because he couldn't cope with his own hatred.

It's really very sad.

And, by the way, I'm not trying to put all the blame on Chosen. He has come a difficult way. He made himself and it's really cool. In AvA 5, he is in fact only at the beginning of his path of becoming the person he would like to be. So it's not surprising that things didn't go so smoothly. I believe that eventually Chosen will be able to accept his mistakes and take responsibility for them. Then his life will really begin to change for the better

[cemeterylanes]

all roads lead back to you

chapter one - therapy

The dizzying buzz of the doors being unlocked in cell block D of Marion Juvenile Detention Center. This was Wayne’s routine. Get up at 6 AM. Make your bed. 6:15. Out for breakfast at 6:30. Breakfast. Individual time. Lunch at 12. Therapy - sometimes, it was individual or it was group. Then group activities. Visit time - or individual time if no one came to visit you. Dinner at 6. Individual time. Bed at 8 PM. And this was Wayne’s day, each day, as it had been for the last 6 weeks. 

Wayne McCullough had a compound fracture in his right arm. He walked around with his arm in a sling, and his head down. And to Wayne? What a horrible thing to do. But being down an arm didn’t make him the invincible boy he was used to being. The cast would come off in another 2 to 4 weeks. Then he had physical therapy. And he knew his arm was gonna be really weak once it came out. The rest of the boys were okay - he stayed out of everyone’s way. He got shoulder checked on occasion, and godamn it hurt. He couldn’t do a damn thing about it. 

Each day was more arduous than the last.  

Get up at 6 AM. Make your bed. 6:15. Out for breakfast at 6:30. Breakfast. Individual time. Lunch at 12. Therapy. Group activities. Visit time, or individual time. Dinner at 6. Individual time. Bed at 8 PM. 

Every fucking day. 

⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓

To say Wayne became passive would be a terrible mischaracterization of him, even with his shattered arm. Every other day, he found himself in the infirmary or in trouble for causing problems - inciting a fight, or swinging his fist despite his obvious disability to truly fight the way he knew how. Therapy was a drag as a group - he didn’t find any interest in truly listening to anyone. Stories about running away, robbing gas stations for the 98 dollars they had in their register, or beating up on some kid in school because they were scrawny - he didn’t understand how people could be such fucking assholes and this is where they were. He wasn’t sorry about all the fights he caused, or when he got his ass kicked in his sling. Someone had to show these people what life was about when they crossed Wayne’s path of destruction. He can’t say he didn’t try being passive, or try “being the bigger person” as his therapist described. 

“How are you feeling today, Wayne?” 

His eyes are settled, staring at a photo in the office of the juvenile hall’s counselor  - Terrence Brown. His counselor had dark skin, and eyes equally as dark, but warm and inviting. His hair was in long, textured locs with a fade running down his temples. He was clean cut - wearing a white polo, and khaki chinos. He had a few tattoos on his face, and some on his arms. In previous sessions, in attempts to make Wayne feel more comfortable, he told Wayne he had gone to prison. He served his time there and learned about psychology, and wanted to become a therapist for youth in the American juvenile justice system. He had been doing this for about five years now, and had a husband and two kids. His demeanor was kind, and he never raised his voice - even when Wayne heard his other fellow cellmates screaming in his office, Terrence never raised his voice. Wayne found it impressive, because he would want to break someone’s jaw so they could never utter another sound. 

“Fine.” His grey-green eyes peered forward at the man. He looks down at the blue cast on his arm. 

“I see you have more people signed your cast.” Terrence replies, and his eyes look down. They’re not signatures. They’re swear words. 

“Nobody’s signed my cast.” 

This is how their conversations went. They were short. Wayne went because he had to. Terrence kept trying because he swore to himself he would make a break in Wayne’s case. Not that he was going anywhere. 

“Did they tell you when you’d get it off?” 

“Dunno. Said it would be eh, another 6 weeks. Then I got some other healin’ stage or some shit.” He shrugs, looking down at his arm again. On the forearm portion of the cast, where no one could see it, he wrote Del’s name. The necklace was never not on his person. He wouldn’t go anywhere without it. Someone explained to him all the scientific details, about how the fracture had kinda healed, but the external callus - the new bone - was fragile, so it still needed to be protected. Then it needed to remodel, or whatever that means. 

“You’re getting close then. Dr. Trapper told me you got into a fight with Christian again. He said you really should be careful about getting into fights. I think you’d be pretty upset if you rebroke it again.” Terrence crosses his legs, and leans back in his seat. He half frowns. “I know how much it means to you that it heals properly.” 

Wayne tenses in his seat, sitting up and looks down at his white slip-on shoes. He doesn’t answer. 

“What have you been doing during your individual enrichment time?” Terrence wanted to bring up Del. He could tell.

“I been trying to read.” He answers, shrugging. Trying was the keyword. He wasn’t interested in reading. He read a little bit of a book that Del had when he rescued her from the hell of the high school she wasn’t even enrolled in. It hurt too much, and it didn’t hold his attention enough, truthfully, to continue. “Sittin’.” 

“Jesus said he did some weight training with you the other day.” Terrence acknowledged. Wayne didn’t do a lot. He was trying to encourage him. “How did that go?” 

“Fine.” It was okay. Jesus was his cellmate neighbor. He was friendly with Wayne. He was put into juvie for joyriding in his mom’s boyfriend’s Cadillac. They did do weight training. He didn’t find the importance in it enough to really remark it as an activity. 

“What else do you do?” 

“Nothin’.” 

“Are you participating in group activities?” 

Wayne looks up for a minute, before looking back down. Kind of.

“I think this week, they’re going to have someone come in and teach you guys how to do the paint pouring.” 

“We painted last week.” 

“Paint pouring is different. You lay the canvas flat, and you pour paints onto it - and it creates a pattern with the different colors. You hold it up, and the paint slides down and makes the pattern more intricate.” Wayne respected how well spoken Terrence was. He wasn’t disrespectful towards him, he was just indifferent to him as he was to everyone else that he had met. 

“Oh.” 

“Daniel said you don’t talk much in group therapy. Are you still finding it hard to get comfortable?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t wanna fuckin’ talk to those people.” 

Terrence admired that Wayne was straightforward, and blunt. He wasn’t completely disconnected from his setting. He had seen some of the crafts Wayne did, even though they came out terribly. His painting - opposed to the prompt, which was a snowy forest - was just a moon, and trees. No snow. Some stars. He still tried. He tried pottery. He just ended up making a really chunky bowl, and glazed it black. It was ugly - but he didn’t think Wayne ever tried pottery before. Having a broken arm really didn’t help either. He didn’t fault him for that. But he didn’t participate in group therapy. Anytime his coworker, Daniel, tried engaging him, Wayne told them to fuck off. 

“You have a panel hearing in another couple of months. What kind of feelings does that spark for you?” He was prodding again. 

“I dunno.” 

“You don’t know how you feel at the possibility of getting your sentence reduced?” 

“I don’t know that.” 

“What?” 

“If my sentence is getting reduced. They say I’m not doing what I’m supposed to.” 

“And what are you supposed to be doing?” 

Wayne looks at the pictures of Terrence’s family on the shelves behind him. He looked happy. His kids looked young. His hair was more grown out, and a proper fade in the picture. His husband’s skin was lighter than his. He thinks that maybe once he said his husband was mixed, because he was talking about celebrating Lunar New Year with his in-laws. 

“This shit.” 

“What’s ‘this shit’ entail?” 

“Fuckin’ therapy. Participatin’. Bein’ a good person, or whatever.” His thick Massachusetts accent shines when he stresses the word ‘whatever’. 

“So, you know what is part of your program plan to be able to work on in order to appeal to the little court panel. What’s stopping you from doing that? I know we have this conversation a lot.” By that, he means he has brought it up at some point in the session at least three or four times a week. 

“I don’t fuckin’ wanna do it. S’stupid.” Wayne leans back in his seat, looking down at the navy blue jumpsuit he was wearing. “But.” 

Oh, Terrence was making progress. 

“But?” 

“I know I gotta.” For her. He glances at the clock. He had another 35 minutes left. Christ. 

“Why?” Terrence is pushing it. Wayne feels his jaw tighten. 

“For her.” 

Del. 

The last time he saw her, his head was cloudy as was his vision, and one of her brothers was carrying her out of the smashed golden Trans Am. The echoes ring in his head, and subconsciously called out to her in the adrenaline crash he was experiencing. He peeled himself off of the leather seat and collapsed when he opened the car door. Bobby, Carl and Teddy threw him around as if he were a ragdoll. He reaches up and touches the scar on the side of his nostril where Bobby cut him with a knife. The time that passed while he laid on the hot, to cool asphalt with his arm by his side, and the other arm in front of him, clutching the thin golden chain with three letters in cursive on it. 

Del. His free hand tightens into a fist. 

“I know we talked about who her is, but you haven’t told me her name. It must be very painful for you to think about what happened. It sounds like she was really special to you.” 

“She is.” Wayne’s tone is curt as he answers. “Not was. Is.” 

Terrence purses his lip. He hopes his lack of an answer encourages Wayne to continue, but he doesn’t. “What’s her name?” 

“Del.” 

“Del. Is it short for something?” 

“It is. But I don’t call her that. Only her dad and brothers.” 

Terrence knew what happened, he had a copy of the police report and court disposition at his disposal. He only kept them for reference with his clients. He told Wayne that, and that he didn’t know what happened and he wanted to hear it from Wayne, and not people that were involved. Because no one else knew what was going on in his head. Only Wayne. And that it wasn’t fair to Wayne to make assumptions about why he was here, or what he was like. This brought little comfort to Wayne, nor did it change his thoughts about therapy. 

“So, her name is Del. Do we want to talk about what happened?” 

It was a long story. “No.” 

“Do you want to talk about Del?” 

Wayne wanted to. It was all he wanted to do. But he couldn’t, because it was fueling a fire that was going to be difficult to put out. He was trying to be passive. He tried to listen to Torrence. But it was becoming increasingly obvious to everyone, Torrence included, that Wayne McCullough was a hellfire that could burn forever. He wants to say no. His mouth betrays his thoughts. 

“Okay. Share as much, or as little as you want, Wayne. This is your hour.” 

She was all he could think about. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see her behind them. Her shoulder length brown hair, the way she pushes her bangs to the side of her face and her hair in a ponytail. She was pretty. He thought she was especially pretty with her hair down and when she slept. He thinks about back at the hotel. He had gotten up in the middle of the night to pee, but the moon crept through the curtains and shone on Del. He did eventually go pee, but he was lost in how peaceful and delicate she looked. The gold hoops in her ears, the way her necklace was so important to her. He spits out the brief monologue she recited to him when they first agreed to date. 

“She doesn’t like flowers. She doesn’t want a Valentine on Valentine’s day. She doesn’t like that romance shit.” 

His eyes sting. Wayne did not have the comfort, or luxury of crying, he thinks. The last time he shed tears was by accident, back at the pizza shop and he ate a handful of chili pepper flakes. He swallows. His spit feels like concrete down his throat. He looks up at the ceiling, away from Torrence. He can see in his peripheral vision that he leans in to listen to him. 

“She’s really pretty.” 

“I bet she is.” Torrence affirms. 

“She likes to read.” 

Silence, while Wayne is stuck with his thoughts. 

“What else does she like to do?” 

“I dunno.” He didn’t know her before the cookies incident, or outside of their road trip together. She liked to read. She went to a stranger’s funeral. She made her dad a drink while he was in the hospital. She was all he had now. “She’s smart. She’s gonna be mayor someday. She’s nice.” Torrence wasn’t complaining. This was as much as Wayne had talked about anything since being here, and his medication for his pain hadn’t been adjusted yet - so he was really, really loopy. He wanted to know her better when he came back. He connected the dots a few weeks ago, that when he was lost in thinking about her face, the glint on her necklace when she wrecked havoc in the gym during the blood drive. 

The way she looked with the crimson fluid splattered all over her face, soaked in her heather grey shirt while everyone screamed in absolute terror. 

He wondered if she thought about him as much as he did. 

“What does it look like to you, when you are released from your detention here?” 

Wayne wants to shrug, but remains motionless. He actually isn’t sure. His dad is gone, has been gone for some time now. So was his house. He didn’t really have anything. Nobody came to visit, or wrote to him. The only people who probably really knew where he was, were Sheriff Gellar and Jay. But, they hadn’t written. Well. Why would they? 

“I dunno.” 

“Can we talk about that, and tomorrow we can talk about what a plan might look like for you?” 

“Okay.” Wayne glances at the clock. 15 minutes left. 

“So, Wayne McCullough gets released.” Terrance shifts in his seat, clicking his pen to write. He never wrote notes. So, this must be important. “Who would you call to come get you?” 

“Nobody.” 

“Nobody?” 

“I dun’ have anyone’s number.” 

Terrence chews on the skin on the inside of his cheek. “I can look into getting you some bus passes, or a Greyhound ticket back home?” 

“Okay.” 

“Does that sound like something that might be helpful to you?” 

“Yeah.” Wayne had never ridden a bus like that before. Or one, at all. He mostly walked, or people had picked him up for rides. 

“Okay. So you get out, and we have your bus passes back to…Brockton, or the closest station there, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay. Closest station to Brockton. You…told me your dad passed away, and you burned your house down.” Terrence takes a minute to think to remember, but his voice passes no judgement. “And that your mom is still here, around Ocala. Why don’t you want to stay with her?” 

“I thought we were talking about what me gettin’ released looks like.” Wayne’s face grows stony, sharp. No more feelings stuff.

His counselor takes a minute to adjust himself. “You’re right. So, you go back to Massachusetts. Who are you going to stay with?” 

Wayne thinks. Even though Principal Cole came down with Orlando to come get him, he wouldn’t stay with him. Too weird. He didn’t know anyone else. And Orlando was like his best friend, kind of. He thinks he remembers Orlando saying something about his grandma having mad dementia, and she doesn’t really remember anything. Orlando just pays the bills and gets what he needs to. Wayne could stay there. 

“Orlando.” 

“Who’s Orlando?” 

“My friend.” 

“Okay, that’s good. You’d stay with Orlando. Then what? Go back to school?” 

“Get Del back.” 

“I think she would be very happy to see you, Wayne. Is there anything else?” 

“I dunno. Work.” 

“No school? You’re 17 now, right?” His birthday had passed since he was here. He didn’t get to know when Del’s birthday was. He couldn’t even celebrate

“Yeah.” 

“You’d be a junior this coming school year. That’s just in a few weeks now, huh?” 

“I don’t care about school.” 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Each second passing. Wayne’s eyes trail the minute hand of the clock. 

“Would you go get your GED once you got settled, maybe?” 

“Maybe. Dunno.” 

4 minutes left. Wrap up. 

“Well, I think this is a good start, Wayne. When I see you tomorrow, we’ll talk more about the plan, or something else if you don’t feel up to it, okay?” 

Wayne was a sitting pile of dry, dry wood surrounded by dead grass. He had appeased the endless thoughts in his head by trying to distract himself with fights, weight training or attempting to read or paint. But nothing held his attention. Nothing like her. He was a sitting pile of lumber, and Terrence had poured gasoline all over him, and now had lit a match. 

“Okay.” And with that, he had tossed the match into the flame of Wayne McCullough’s fighting spirit. And a fire that burns as bright, and as much as his did, it would be impossible to put it out now. 

[queenlucythevaliant]

����would love one featuring Russian thoughts on God! ✝️

SO. I could have sworn that I've posted "Avvakum in Pustozyorsk" on this blog before, but I can't seem to find it so here it is.

(For context, this is written in the voice of a 17th century Russian Orthodox priest and religious dissident (an "Old Believer"). Avvakum was sent to the military outpost of Pustozyorsk where he was imprisoned four fourteen years, then eventually burned at the stake. It uses this historical voice to reflect on the religious persecution of the Soviet era. Also, it's fairly long, so I've highlighted my favorite stanzas.)

Avvakum in Pustozyorsk The walls of my church are the ribs round my heart; it seems life and I are soon bound to part. My cross now rises, traced with two fingers. In Pustozyorsk it blazes; its blaze will linger. I’m glorified everywhere, vilified, branded; I have already become the stuff of legend: I was, people say, full of anger and spite; I suffered, I died for the ancient rite. But this popular verdict is ugly nonsense; I hear and reject the implied censure. A rite is nothing – neither wrong nor right; a rite is a trifle in God’s sight. But they attacked our faith and the ways of the past, in all we’d learned as children, and taken to heart. In their holy garments, in their grand hats, with a cold crucifix in their cold hands, in thrall to a terror clutching their souls, they drag us to jails and herd us to scaffolds. We don’t debate doctrine, of books and their age; we don’t debate virtues of fetters and chains. Our dispute is of freedom, and the right to breathe – about our Lord’s will to bind as he please. The healers of souls chastised our bodies; while they schemed and plotted, we ran to the forests. Despite their decrees, we hurled our words out of the lion’s mouth and into the world. We called for vengeance against their sins along with the Lord; we sang poems and hymns. The words of the Lord were claps of thunder. The Church endures; it will never go under. And I, unyielding, reading the Psalter, was brought to the gates of the Andronikov Monastery. I was young; I endured every pain: hunger, beatings, interrogations. A winged angel shut the eyes of the guard, brought me cabbage soup and a hunk of bread. I crossed the threshold – and I walked free. Embracing my exile, I walked to the East. I held services by the Amur River, where I barely survived the winds and blizzards. They branded my cheeks with brands of frost; by a mountain stream they tore out my nostrils. But the path to the Lord goes from jail to jail; the path to the Lord never changes. And all too few, since Jesus’s days, have proved able to bear God’s all-seeing gaze. Nastasia, Nastasia, do not despair; true joy often wears a garment of tears. Whatever temptations may beat in your heart, whatever torments may rip you apart, walk on in peace through a thousand troubles and fear not the snake that bites at your ankles – though not from Eden has this snake crawled; it is an envoy of evil from Satan’s world. Here, birdsong is unknown; here one learns patience and the wisdom of stone. I have seen no colour except lingonberry in fourteen years spent as a prisoner. But this is not madness, nor a waking dream; it is my soul’s fortress, its will and freedom. And now they are leading me far away and in fetters; my yoke is easy, my burden grows lighter. My track is swept clean dusted with silver; I’m climbing to heaven on wings of fire. Through cold and hunger, through grief and fear, towards God, like a dove, I rise from the pyre. O far-away Russia – I give you my vow to return from the sky, forgiving my foes. May I be reviled, and burned at the stake; may my ashes be cast on the mountain wind. There is no fate sweeter, no better end, than to knock, as ash, at the human heart.

--Varlam Shalamov

[msbigredmachine]

TARGETS - 21 - The Decoy

Roman Reigns is an agent in the secret organisation The Authority and one of the world’s deadliest assassins. When he crosses paths with a mysterious woman during an assignment, he makes a life-changing decision that switches his role from the hunter to the hunted.  (AU Espionage Story)

TARGETS MASTERLIST

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

Seventy-two hours later

0047 hrs

Providence, Rhode Island

Xavier Woods rolled his eyes for the hundredth time, wondering when the hell he was going to get out of this shithole. Ever since the attempt on his life a couple of months ago in Las Vegas, he'd been hidden away in a bunker in an elusive Courthouse in Rhode Island, where he would remain in custody until the process for his entry into the Witness Protection Program was concluded. Unlike the lavish comfort of the hotel suite at the MGM Arena, this place felt like a fucking prison. Being miles away from civilization, there were no distractions for Xavier to indulge in. No cable, no PS5, no Wi-Fi, and shitty cell phone reception. He was under watch twenty-four hours a day and he felt like he was about to go apeshit. Why the fuck was it taking weeks to move him into the Program anyway? Especially if they knew his life was in grave danger?

Outside, his door was manned by four FBI Agents, all of whom were lounging and reading day-old newspapers. A fifth agent rounded the corner with two boxes of pepperoni pizza in his arms. "About fucking time, I'm starving," one of the agents said, throwing aside his newspaper and opening one of the boxes his colleague set down on the table.

The sound of an alarm suddenly rang all around the Courthouse, interrupting their meal. The Agents instantly dropped their pizza and jumped to their feet, hands reaching for the guns in their holsters. Suddenly, one dropped to the ground, unconscious, a tranquilizer dart sticking out of his neck. The other Agents raised their weapons to attack, but how did one aim at an unseen target? Left with this disadvantage, another fell. And another. And another. Within seconds all five men were down, out cold.

Xavier shot to his feet as he heard sounds of a scuffle outside his door. Suddenly it burst open and a Courthouse guard ran up to him, looking harassed. "Follow me sir," the big, burly looking man said with a heavy Southern accent. "I've got orders to get you outta here."

Xavier's eyes widened, fear coursing through his veins as he recognized the huge man immediately. This was the absolute last person he expected to see here. And this was the absolute last person he wanted to take him. "You gotta be fucking kidding me." Backing away, he whirled around and sprinted away, searching frantically for the imaginary way out.

The guard rolled his brown eyes, his accent transforming instantly. "Why do they always want to do it the hard way?"

As he spoke, Roman whipped out his gun, the butt of the weapon cracking over Xavier's head and knocking him out where he stood. Roman caught him before he hit the ground. "Fucking arrogant, slimy piece of shit," the guard murmured, dragging the prone body of Woods to the vent grill in the corner of the room. He used a screwdriver to unscrew the corners and stuffed Woods through the small space. As he followed behind, Roman pitched a timed grenade back into the room. A gift for the Feds, if you will.

Several FBI Agents had arrived at the scene as backup, and they took their command positions outside Xavier Woods's bedroom. The leader raised his hand in a signal to lead the charge into the room. They threw open the door, rushing in when they saw a small object roll towards them. They felt the impact of the explosion before they could decipher what it was. All of them fell to the floor, stunned and temporarily blinded by the percussive grenade, but alive. Barely.

Worried, Jasmine spoke into her earpiece. "Spice to Aquaman, I heard an explosion. Are you okay?"

"Why are you Spice and I have to be called Aquaman?"

"Because, doofus, my name is an actual spice and you look like Jason Momoa. Where are you? Did you get the cargo out?"

A heavy sigh followed. "Fine. Aquaman to Spice. Affirmative. The cargo is in my possession," was Roman's reply, "We move now. Watch my six in case anyone's trailing me."

Jasmine quickly shut the titanium suitcase containing the laptop and communications kit and moved over to the driver's seat, gun cocked and ready for any hostiles. Roman emerged through the rolling smoke, Woods slumped and unconscious over his shoulder. "Well, that was a mess," Jasmine smirked, putting her gun away.

Roman rolled his eyes. "It worked, didn't it?" He dumped Woods in the back seat, sitting him upright so he would look like he was asleep. Roman jumped into the passenger seat. "Let’s get the fuck outta here."

Jasmine revved the engine and they drove off.

—---------

Xavier slowly opened his eyes and was met with yet another fist in his face. Roman and Jasmine had taken him to an abandoned duplex in the outskirts of Providence to interrogate him. They had been in there for a while and so far, he wasn't saying a word, and it was pissing Roman off.

Jasmine watched as he laid into Xavier again, the man's dreadlocks flying as his head snapped backwards in a painful-looking angle. "Roman, what are you doing?" 

"I'm working." Another punch.

"You're going to kill him," she pointed out.  

"That was my left hand, sweetheart. Take a seat. We'll be done in a minute."

Jasmine sighed out loud. She knew she was bearing witness to another episode of the Samoan at his most blood-thirsty, but now was not the time to be reckless. "Roman, stop."

He ignored her. He squatted in front of Xavier and roughly patted his cheek. "Hey! Woods, wake the fuck up and look at me."

Xavier didn't seem to have heard him. Instead he was staring at Jasmine, his battered gaze traveling up and down the length of her delectable body. Roman raised his eyebrow, incredulous. “Is this piece of shit eyeballing my girl? Woods! I said look at me! Are you going to tell us why both our bosses want you dead or not?"

Xavier finally turned his attention to Roman. His hands were tied tightly behind his back, as were his legs, and was at the mercy of two deadly assassins. But he remained as defiant as ever, almost as if despite the precarious position he was in, he still had the upper hand. Spitting out the blood from his mouth to the side, he glared at Roman. "If you kill me, you got nothin’," he taunted.

"Oh, nothing would give me more pleasure than blowing your fuckin’ brains out." Roman stood back up and shook his head, losing patience. Jasmine checked her nails lazily as she spoke. "He does have a point, Roman."

Roman leveled his girlfriend with a glare. "You think you can do better?" he challenged, thrusting his gun at her and making an exaggerated sweeping gesture with his free arm. "Go ahead. Let’s see how much information you can get out of him."

Jasmine uncrossed her ankles and pushed off the wall with a smile. Both men's eyes were on her. "I'm not going to need that," she waved Roman's gun away, and looked over at Xavier with slanted, seductive eyes and an even more seductive smile. Roman's dark eyes narrowed as he realized her little plan, and he felt his blood boil and his fingers itch.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" Without waiting for her to respond, he grabbed her arm and dragged her away from Xavier and led her to a corner. Roman rounded on her, his face like thunder. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he hissed loudly. "You're going to seduce him? In front of me?"

Unbelievable! "Are you fucking kidding me? Now is not the time to be jealous!"

"What? I should just stand there and watch while you shove your tits in his face? Did you fuck him while you were with him? Is that what happens every time you've got to take out a motherfucker? Fuck him before you take him out?" Roman was livid. How many other men had put their hands on her, before and while they were together? How many had she allowed?

"This is literally not the time for this. Can you let me do my job? Huh?" she asked, rubbing her temple impatiently.

"I am only showing concern! You were his date that night. He put his hands on you then, and I am not cool with that."

“Seriously? Are you gonna stand there and tell me that in all the years you’ve been doing this, you’ve never fucked a couple of women to get the job done?” Jasmine challenged, “Look me in the eye and tell me that.”

Roman chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I was single then,” he defended lamely.

"That’s highkey the most asinine thing I’ve ever heard!" Jasmine snapped through gritted teeth. He was being exasperating. "I know you're tense right now and want answers, but do not take it out on me. Now take a break and let me handle this. As you know by now, I’m very good at what I do, and I know exactly what I'm doing."

"Do you?" he muttered under his breath, and he regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. 

Jasmine glared at her boyfriend, unable to mask her hurt. She shut her eyes, calming, centering herself, and when she opened them again, she was cool, professional again, but there was an edge to her tone as she replied.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that to me," she told him curtly. They stood close, the air between them heated, tense. "I'm going back to talk to the hostage. When you're certain you're not going to make a fool of yourself, come back in. And you better not get in my way with your bullshit." She turned her back on him before she knocked his fucking lights out for disrespecting her like that. He wasn't the biggest person she had encountered before, not by a mile.

Roman watched her stomp away, his shoulders sagging with resignation. Yes, it was silly and immature of him, and it seemed like they were wasting time. But he just couldn't shake off the inkling in the pit of his gut that there was more to this situation they were facing. Woods was being too calm, too confident for his liking, and it felt like he and Jasmine were playing right into his hands.

Xavier smirked when Jasmine came back into his view. "Trouble in paradise?"

Her smile was gorgeous. "Forgive my partner over there. He's a bit...assertive." She reached up and pulled out the band holding her hair, letting the fair tresses fall around her shoulders. Xavier's eyes widened, and for the first time since his abduction, he looked a little nervous. She slowly approached him, her hair down, her slender body swaying, beautiful fingers on the buttons of her blouse. She looked absolutely ravishing.

"Xavier..." she uttered his name softly, "Xavier, we don't want to hurt you."

"We don't?" grumbled Roman.

"Roman, behave. We just want to ask a few questions, Xavier."

She moved behind him, her hand lazily trailing the chair, fingertips brushing his shoulder. She heard his breath catch as her fingers traced his chin, then his cheek. "We are aware of just how…controversial…you are. You've stepped on a few toes...pissed off some people. We understand that. All we want to know is why our bosses want to kill you, at such a high price for that matter."

She was close. She knew by the way Xavier's jaw clenched. He was struggling to hold tight, to remain stubborn. Roman was struggling as well. He gripped his gun tighter, his finger on the trigger, ready for anything.

Jasmine leaned down behind Xavier and let her slender hands slide down his chest, her face close to his ear, "That's all we want to know, Xavier. If you cooperate, all of this will be over. You have my word."

She waited for a response, then her eyes narrowed when she heard a chuckling sound, which she realized was coming from Woods. Standing upright, she looked at him in confusion and saw his head thrown back, laughing his head off. Jasmine and Roman glanced at each other. Something was wrong.

"Do you really think I'm going to fall for the tacky burlesque moves, sweetheart?" Xavier said, still laughing, but his eyes held a knowing, dangerous glint. "You're hot as hell, but not that hot, Jasmine...or is it Tatiana?"

Jasmine froze, staring at him.

"You tell me, Jasmine," Xavier went on. "Why would The Authority and F.L.O.R.A. come after little old me?" His grin spread at their widened eyes. "Yeah, I know exactly who both of y’all are. Of course you wouldn't know what’s really going on. Let me ask you another question; did you think your companies didn't know who each of you were? Did you think they appreciate this little romance y’all got going on, hmm? Did you really, Jasmine? Roman Reigns?"

Roman crossed his arms and glared at Xavier. Alarm bells were ringing in his head. But he couldn't quite point out why, and it unnerved him. "I knew you recognized me at the Courthouse," he said quietly. His hands were burning now. Aching for a kill.

"But how?" asked Jasmine, completely puzzled, "He's never seen you before!"

"Oh, but I have. They showed me your photos when they brought me in for this job." Xavier continued talking, sounding braver by the second. "You two are worrying about the wrong person. I'm not the one your companies are collaborating to take out."

Jasmine went pale. "Collaborating?"

Roman felt a chill course through his spine. The pieces were slowly coming together. "The hit in Las Vegas was a set-up," he said, turning to a stunned Jasmine. "This whole fucking thing is a set-up. It was never about Woods, babe. It was about us."

"Right you are, Reigns! Fifty points to Gryffindor! I'm not the target here. I never was. You are. Both of you. The Authority and F.L.O.R.A. realized your relationship could compromise them all, so they doubled up. They’ve been working together for months, trying to eliminate you both. And thanks to me, they're going to succeed and I'm getting the payday of a lifetime and my golden ticket outta this god-forsaken shithole of a country!" 

He grinned evilly at the two assassins. "So, with that being said, I hope you two have made peace with your Maker because you, my friends, are about to die."

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

Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs.

I've given up on the tag list. But please leave comments, I still love comments! ❤

[blackjackkent]

OK, once again, our first immediate priority is going to find Florrick, which means we're heading back to Wyrm's Rock fortress and staging a prison break. (Ravengard is also imprisoned but I think he's somewhere else and we still have to figure out where.)

While I'm trying not to get too sidetracked from our main objectives until we have Lae'zel back, I will take this opportunity to scour the entire Wyrm's Rock building so we don't have to come back here again later.

And in this case - my exploration immediately paid off. I found a hidden lever leading to a secret path near the door that took us to the audience chamber before, which led out to a back cliff area behind the fortress with a gorgeous view of the surrounding water.

Climbing down the cliff leads to this:

Perfect! \o/ We're coming, Florrick!

Going inside, Hector is able to smash through a stone wall (yay cloud giant strength potion) and get into a storeroom in the prison area proper. After breaking out of the storeroom from the inside... we're immediately confronted by a guard.

The two options are "lie" or "fight"; Hector is not a fan of either one, since he hates lying, but he would hate killing a guard who was literally only doing his job more. So he claims (scrambling for an explanation and trying not to look as panicked as he feels) that they're officially sanctioned prison inspectors, and astonishingly (even to the narrator), the guard bought it. Presumably Gortash has been cracking down and changing things up and no one is interested in accidentally questioning his orders.

So we appear to be free to walk around safely for now (at least, presumably, until we start busting down the door of Florrick's cell).

Also this happened:

The theft in question was A SINGLE WALNUT that I picked up off the floor without permission. I reloaded; Hector doesn't have time for this nonsense.

There's one door labeled "Prison Entrance Door" that I appear to be able to pick open without bothering anyone, and then a bunch of smaller iron doors that I'm not allowed to touch. The iron ones turned out to be what we needed, though, because a little bit of stealthing around the guards later and look who we found in one of the cells!

Victory.

"You might as well lock the cell. It's over."

She sounds so incredibly dejected, a far cry from the direct, decisive woman we saw in Waukeen's Rest and Last Light. Jaheira notices the difference too:

"Florrick? What have they done to you?"

But Florrick just smiles sadly. "I don't speak of myself, High Harper," she answers. "I speak of the city itself. We came too late. It's over."

"I don't understand," Hector says with a concerned frown. "What do you mean?"

"I came seeking allies to our cause," Florrick says flatly. "Watchers spotted me, dragged me to Ulder Ravengard's husk." Her head twitches, as if struck with sudden pain. "Empty as a stare. A tadpole's puppet, nothing more. He spoke in accusations. Apostasy, conspiracy, sedition." Her lip curls in a bitter smile. "I will soon be hanged on the city gallows to a chorus of cheers. You might have unlocked my cell, but there's no escape from this place."

"The Fist can go hang *themselves*," Jaheira snaps. "We're getting you out."

(I continue to love Jaheira a lot.)

"Ravengard's not lost," Hector adds firmly. "I felt him reach out to me."

This is true - Hector doesn't lie unless forced to it, as above - but it is perhaps a slight shading of the truth. Ravengard is pretty far gone. Hector has no idea if they'll be able to find him again. But he is not lost entirely.

Florrick for a moment looks as if she wants to dismiss him out of hand; the despair has taken a deep hold on her. But... she is a woman of considerable strength of character, and Hector can see the information work on her, the way she takes it in, processes it. The lift of her eyebrows, the flash of hope back into her expression.

"You... you felt him?" she asks unsteadily. "Extraordinary. Maybe... what is lost can be found."

Her shoulders square, her back straightens. The effect is contagious; her force of personality is such that Hector can feel his own strength rising in answer to it. "'When the people need a miracle, you cannot wait for the gods to answer.' Ulder's words..." she murmurs thoughtfully. "I'd almost forgotten." Her jaw works and her eyes flick around the cell with rapid thought.

"No more sulking," she says with a sudden sharp nod. "I know what to do." Her eyes fix on Hector's - more confident now, authoritative. "Lead me from my cell. Escort me out of Wyrm's Rock. I'll seek out my connections. When the city's streets shatter, you'll want their blades."

Hector nods respectfully. He has strongly approved of everything he's seen of Counselor Florrick since the moment they pulled her out of the flames in Waukeen's Rest, and this moment of strength growing out of despair is doing nothing to change his opinion. She will be a valuable ally in the fight to come - and even on a more personal level, he wants her to live.

"Follow me," he says.