#all but ally knows my entire story and how far this numbness has come. how bad i was. how fucking DEEP i was in the dark ass hole.

[buckypascal]

☆

[bonnyskies]

deadly agenda ⇢ myg

min yoongi is a dangerous man. you’re a manipulative wife. together, you two are a deadly duo, and you both have your own agenda.

pairing — emperor!yoongi x wife!malereader ft. king-husband!taehyung

genres — angst, sexual themes, royalty!au, strangers-to-lovers!au

warnings — age-gap (reader is 20, yoongi is 28), swearing, degrading terms, mentions of death, feminization, descriptions of murder, sexual themes, infidelity, betrayal, slight voyeurism, yoongi is intimidating and reader is manipulative, basically they’re just plain evil

author’s note — i hate tumblr’s new update. i had more to write (not enough for a part two) but couldn’t because of the new 250 text box rule. but as for this story, this is probably the longest one i’ve written so far and the one i’m most proud of. anyway, hope you all enjoy and sorry for taking so long to upload this, took lots of planning and rewriting, plus i’ve been busy with school too.

word count — 7.4k

masterlist

Min Yoongi is a cautious, yet observant man.

Whoever steps foot in his palace, he makes sure to know everything about them. Who they are, they’re background, appearance, and how they approach him. Each and every thing can help him learn who he can trust, and who he cannot, who are his allies—and who are his enemies.

Yoongi stood by his palace’s entrance, accompanied with his guards and greeted his special guests, one by one as they walked up his home’s grand steps. He makes sure to take notes on each and every person’s facial expression, their appearance, chosen attire, and the certain way they walk up to him.

Anything could benefit him into knowing them. Their wealth and clan can be identified based on their specific appearance and choice of clothing. Their facial expressions help him learn what their true feelings and intentions are towards him that are hidden by their fake smiles and words. And lastly, the way they walk up to him can help him know the type of personality they have, whether that be obedient and innocent, or arrogant and untrustworthy.

The way he learns about his guests have never failed him. That was, until he met you.

Yoongi would be lying if he said he wasn’t astonished when his eyes laid on you for the first time. There were many things that left him utterly speechless when meeting you. For one, when his advisor told him that his guest would be bringing his wife, he was expecting a woman—not a man.

Another thing that left Yoongi speechless was your appearance, mostly your attire. You were dressed in feminine-like clothing, silk robes that were decorated with gold jewelry instead of fine material clothing with armor plating like what many men of royalty wear. And you also didn’t hold a blade like most men do too. Instead, you held a simple wooden decorative fan.

And lastly, your eyes.

Yoongi has a remarkable judge of character. Maybe not as good when it came to you, but still adequate. On the outside, your eyes were shining with gentleness and a kind greeting. But he could tell there was something else hidden behind them—something that left him intrigued by you.

You had an agenda—plans, and Yoongi was determined to find out what they are.

The welcoming feast was extremely dull.

Yoongi absorbed gallons of wine into his system, hoping that would help numb his mind and get through the rest of the evening without having to tear somebody’s head off from their body.

And apparently you thought the same as he did. Across the table, Yoongi watched as you fanned yourself out of boredom while everyone else were socializing with one another, an unamused facial expression shown on your face. Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle behind his glass when seeing one of the other wives say something to you and you flashed her a quick smile before dropping it back down into a straight line.

It seems his attention on you didn’t go unnotice because next thing he knew, your eyes were now on him. Yoongi was expecting hints of disgust or uncomfort from you, but instead he was met with sly smirk and a raised brow.

Yoongi watches intently as you leaned over and whispered into your husband’s ear. Your husband—Kim Taehyung then stood up from his seat and bowed his head, “Excuse me, your Majesty.”

Yoongi turned his head towards your husband, diverting his attention completely away from you.

“My wife is not feeling well at the moment, so with your permission, would it be alright if he can take his leave from the feast early?”

The entire dining hall fell silent, shocked expressions plastered on everyone’s faces at the table.

Nobody has ever dared to leave one of Min Yoongi’s feasts before. Who would want to, right? It’s considered a great honor for one self and their kingdom to be invited by the Emperor himself to attend one of his events.

Whispers began to spread amongst the guests.

“How shameless is Kim Taehyung’s wife?”

“Wanting to leave the Emperor’s feast early? Utterly shameless I tell you.”

“That Taehyung needs to discipline his wife.”

“Doesn’t he know how important his Majesty’s events are? And he wants to leave just because he isn’t feeling well? Unbelievable.”

“He needs to learn some manners—”

Anxiety swept across Taehyung’s face when hearing the gossips coming from the other royals, eyes wide and mouth gaped open with panic. “Forgive me, your Majesty, I never intended to—”

With just the clear of his throat, everybody fell silent once again and all eyes were now on him. Yoongi’s gaze would shift between you and your husband, curiosity filling his veins when noticing that there wasn’t any signs of illness presently visible on you. You weren’t trembling, your eyes weren’t red and skin wasn’t showing any signs of flushness. You looked fine.

That only caused more questions to form in Yoongi’s mind. Like, what do you exactly want, and what is your reason for being here? Because according to his advisor, you weren’t even part of the guest list until today. That only raised even more suspicions he had towards you.

And it’s not like he can just throw you out—actually, he can. It’s just that he doesn’t want to because now he’s curious, and he wants to see how things turn out.

“He can go,” Yoongi says a brief silence, immediately noticing the small smile creeping onto your lips. “But take him to see the physician and let him check him out,” and then it dropped.

“N-No, your Majesty,” you spoke up, lips parted. “You don’t have to do that—”

“You’re feeling unwell, right?” Yoongi then asks, smirking at the silence he got in reply. “Well, you should let my physician diagnose you then. Don’t worry though, you’re in great hands.”

One of his guards that stood by his side approached you and started to guide you to the physician’s office. And while you were leaving, Yoongi could see the glare coming from you and aimed right at him.

If you wanted to play games with him, he’ll play.

Wandering through the palace halls at night was something Yoongi usually does whenever he can’t sleep.

And apparently you had the same tendency too.

While mindlessly strolling through his palace’s hallways, Yoongi’s eyes suddenly landed on your approaching figure, the first thing catching his attention was your choice of clothing. You were dressed in golden inner robes, your sleep-wear, and the material was so thin and transparent that every feature about you was visible to him. The sight of your clear, smooth skin and every curve of your body and muscles made his mouth water. It was like you were purposely dressed like that to seduce him.

Another thing that caught his eye was the small, slightly torn grayish book that was in your grasp, which was where your complete attention was on because you still haven’t noticed his presence despite the two of you walking towards the other.

“Hello, your Highness,” you jumped out of fear, eyes wide and closing your book when your gaze landed on him. “May I ask why you are wandering around my palace this late at night?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you simply answered, fingers tight around the cover the book, which only made Yoongi even more curious as to what you were exactly reading. “And it seems you are having the same problem as well, am I correct?”

Yoongi only hummed in reply, taking another small step towards you until you two now stood only inchest apart, him towering over you and staring down right at you. “Is there something wrong with your chambers? I can tell my servants to move you and your husband into a more comfortable place for you—”

“No no, your Majesty,” you were quick to interject. “Everything is perfect. It’s just that I’ve always had trouble sleeping at another royal’s residence, that’s all.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but find your reason funny, because he has always had trouble sleeping when there were other people staying in his palace.

A brief silence came between you two before Yoongi spoke up once again, “I’ll be taking a quick walk around my garden, you can accompany me if you like.” He didn’t wait for your reply before leaving, but when hearing the sound of your footsteps behind him right after, a smirk grew on his lips.

“You know, you never really introduced yourself when we first met,” Yoongi then brought up while the two of you made your way to the gardens.

“Forgive me, your Majesty,” you bowed your head apologetically before replying, “My name is ___, Kim ___.”

“It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Kim ___,” Yoongi reached down and took your hand into his, pressing a soft, yet tender kiss on the back of your palm, smirking at the evident blush forming on your cheeks. “And I’ve got to say, you are looking quite well for someone that claimed to be feeling sick not even three hours ago,” and that is when your smile dropped.

“Must’ve been my anxiety,” you were quick to reply back, your eyes never leaving his. “After all, I am staying at the Emperor’s palace for the first time.”

Yoongi was impressed honestly, he had to admit. For everything he had to say against you, you had something say right back at him. There isn’t a lot of people who have that type of skill to think of words—believeable words right on the spot. Anybody would believe what you were saying—too bad he isn’t just anybody.

“Must be...,” Yoongi just says, eyeing you slightly. His gaze then shifted onto the book in your hand. “What are you reading there?”

“Oh this,” you held the book up, “It’s called Flowers of the Region—a guide to every type of flower that is grown and can be found in both the South and the North. It’s my favorite book.”

“Well, that’s fortunate,” Yoongi points out, “you like flowers, and we so happen to be going to my garden. What’s your favorite flower?”

“Lily of the Valley,” you answer with a smile. “Have you heard of it?”

“I have,” Yoongi replied, his interest towards you growing even more. Lily of the Valley, despite the beautiful features of the white flower, it is proven to be quite deadly when digested. “They are only found on top of the Southern mountains—but lucky for you, I happen to grow them right here in my garden.”

Your smile grew even wider. “That’s great.”

The rest of the walk to the gardens was in silence with you trailing forward while Yoongi stood back. And with your eyes focused on the path in front of you, Yoongi couldn’t help but send glances at you every once in a while, his eyes burning into your back, admiring at the clear view your smooth skin through the thin, transparent material of your inner robes.

He surely needs to give whoever crafted your sleepwear a raise—and a big one too.

When the two of you finally got to the gardens, you were left instantly speechless at the sight of the many plots of different flowers, ranging from beautiful, vibrant ones that were quite common to dark, mysterious ones that you’ve never even seen before.

Yoongi couldn’t deny how adorable you looked though when seeing his garden for the first time, eyes wide, shining with admiration and your mouth gaped open.

“This is beautiful,” you gasped, leaning down and running your fingers delicately over some flowers.

“Thank you,” Yoongi stood beside you, “I make sure my gardeners take good care of this place.”

Silenced filled the atmosphere as Yoongi stood back and silently watched you admiring the many flowers. Normally he’d be annoyed for someone touching his property, but for some odd reason when it came to you he didn’t mind so much. Perhaps it’s because this might be the only way for him to get close to you and learn about your true intentions—or maybe he just really wants to fuck you.

Yoongi found himself once again staring at you, watching as you bent over to get a closer look at one of the flowers, giving him a perfect view of your ass and hips, both in which he wants to grab and caress with his large hands.

“So,” Yoongi spoke up after some silence, “how exactly did you become the new Lady Kim?”

Yoongi instantly noticed the way your body tensed from his question. “I was his Highness’s personal servant. When his wife suddenly passed away, he was a complete mess and I was the only one that stayed by his side through the entire mourning process. I was the one that comforted him whenever he was feeling down, I made sure he was taking care of himself and helped him with his royal duties.”

Yoongi then noticed your shoulder slumping. “After about a month or so, he started seeking me for a...different kind of comfort.” Sex. “Soon later he decided to make his new wife—the new Lady Kim.”

“You don’t seem so happy about the change in position,” Yoongi commented, “I’m sure this is much better than being a simple servant. You’re a royal now.”

“Oh, I am,” you quickly corrected him, “But being a man and having a feminine title can sometimes make things complicated.”

“Well then, don’t make them complicated.” Yoongi suggested, “You’re not a servant anymore, you’re a royal. They may not respect you now, but you have the power to make them do so.”

“Don’t worry, I know,” you told him sternly. “They’ll learn to respect me. Whether that be the hard way or the easy way—it’s their choice. So you better watch out, your Majesty, or something bad might happen to you,” you laughed softly.

Yoongi released a forceful chuckle, eyes briefly squinting at you suspiciously. It may have sound like a harmless joke, but to him, he could hear the small hints of truth behind them. “Oh trust me, I will. I wouldn’t want you as an enemy.”

“And you as well,” you replied, eyeing him back.

Silence came between you two again, Yoongi leaving you to inspect his garden in peace while he stood back and watched you. It wasn’t until an hour has passed you spoke up again, yawning, “we should head back to bed, your Majesty. We have that conference in the morning with the other royals and we need the energy.”

“You’re right,” Yoongi agreed, nodding and stepping aside so that you could walk ahead of him and back inside the place with him following right beside you. “Let me walk you back to your room.”

You didn’t say anything, only held your head low to hide the small grin on your face as the both of you made your back to the chambers. And as you two got closer to your destination, you both were froze at the sound of moaning.

Yoongi was confused at first as who it could be, but when turning to you and seeing the hardened expression on your face, he knew.

“O-Oh, Taehyung—f-faster, please!”

Yoongi was speechless. He knew many royals took on concubines while being married, but he didn’t know someone could so shameless as to bringing them to another person’s residence alongside their spouse. “Your Highness—”

“Don’t bother, your Majesty,” you spoke calmly, eyes hard and emotionless. “I’m use to it by now and it doesn’t really bother me anymore.”

“Really, it doesn’t?”

You shook your head. “At first it did, but after sleeping with my husband so many times I have learned that the only person he cares to satisfy is himself.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle. What kind of husband doesn’t have the desire to satisfy is own wife? Maybe he should take you to his chambers and show you exactly what you’re missing. “Well, I-I’m still sorry for you.”

You simply shrugged your shoulders, “it doesn’t matter, your Majesty. Have a good night.”

Yoongi watched as you then opened the door went inside the chamber, causing your husband and the woman to stop and look at you with wide eyes.

“Don’t mind me,” you said to them, not even bothering to glance at them, shocking Yoongi. “I’ll be on the balcony reading my book. Just let me when you two are done.”

Taehyung’s attention instantly went back to the woman that was straddling his lap when hearing your words, hands kneading her breasts and hips and started thrusting back up into her, causing moans to erupt from both of them. Yoongi didn’t why, but the sight of them made his blood boil.

Maybe he should go in there and fuck you in front of your husband? That’ll show him what he is missing out.

Yoongi continued to watch through the crack in the door as you walked past the couple and went onto the balcony. And once you were out of his sight, that’s when he finally got a clear view of the woman on your husband’s lap, and he instantly recognized her. She was one of the servants that accompanied you and Taehyung here. Yoongi distinctly remembered seeing her earlier today, serving you tea after you got back from seeing the physician.

Yoongi glared at the couple, scoffing at the sight. What did that Kim Taehyung see in that whore of a servant that you don’t have?

You are far more enticing than she is.

Taking one last glance at the shameless couple, Yoongi retreated back to his chambers. And while he did so, his mind suddenly went back to you. How did someone so...unique end up with a man like Kim Taehyung? He’s a weak person, a shame to royal blood. You deserve to be with someone with real power, someone who would never leave you unsatisfied, both physically and emotionally. Someone like me.

Yoongi could feel himself harden just from the thought of you.

Damn you for having this type of power over me, his mind cursed. Yoongi has slept with countless of other royals before, both men and women, and he has never encountered someone like you.

You are truly something else.

“Damn,” Yoongi mumbled out to nobody in particular, palming himself through his robes. “How the hell am I going to get rid of this?”

And right on queue, a young servant boy just happened to be walking right by Yoongi when the question ran through his head.

“Stop,” was all he said, making the servant boy freeze in his place.

“Y-Yes, your Majesty?”

Yoongi took slow, intimidating steps towards him until he was towering over him, using his hands to cup his chin and forcing the servant boy to meet his eyes. “How would you feel having the honor of spending the night with your Emperor?”

The servant boy couldn’t stop the small smile from forcing on his face. “I-I would love that, your Majesty.”

That was Yoongi needed to hear before leaning down capturing the servant’s boys lips with his, hands moving to his thighs and hoisting him up in his arms and carrying him into his chambers, lips never separating.

“You’re a eager one, are you?” Yoongi chuckled against the servant boy’s mouth, moving his lips down his neck and forcing a whimpering moan from him.

“I-It’s my duty to serve y-you, your Majesty.”

That brought a smile on Yoongi’s lips.

Yoongi couldn’t find you anywhere the next day.

He couldn’t find at you breakfast, he couldn’t find you during the conference with the other royals and their wives, and he couldn’t find you at lunch. Now as dinner was approaching, there still wasn’t any sign of you anywhere.

But he had no problem finding your husband. Wherever he saw Taehyung, he saw that whore of a servant trailing behind him like a pet—but you no where to be seen.

Yoongi thought about approaching him to ask about your whereabouts, but he couldn’t help but think of the consequences that would happen afterwards. But that still didn’t stop him from sending glares at the younger royal and the servant every now and then, which didn’t go unnotice by either of them.

“Is there something wrong, your Majesty,” Taehyung finally asks, breaking the tensed silence between the two of them. “You’ve been staring at me all day today and haven’t said a single word.”

“Oh nothing,” Yoongi simply replies, eyes still trained on him while twirling his glass of wine. “Just wondering where your wife is at right now, since everyone else is here. Is he still not feeling well from last night?”

For a very very brief moment, Yoongi could see panic glinting in his eyes before answering, “o-oh yes, your Majesty, he told me that he’s still feeling unwell so I allowed him stay back in the room.”

Liar, was Yoongi’s first thought, eyes glaring even more at the long, black-haired royal.

Everyone at the table could feel the tension between their Emperor and the young royal, and still no one chose to speak up about it.

Yoongi had a reputation. He is the first ever Emperor to achieve the throne through combat rather than family bloodline—and he is also the youngest ruler to ever be placed higher than a simple king. But that weren’t the only things he was known for. He was also generally known for being intelligent and quite reserved, and cruel if absolutely necessary, and also able to hold a grudge. It may sound simple, but everybody knew that if their Emperor had something against you, your days were limited.

So that’s why nobody chose to speak up when seeing the menancing glares their Emperor were sending at the youngest and only surviving Kim. Because they knew if they intervened, they’d only anger him and get on his list, and that’s the exact opposite of what they want to do.

“Your Majesty,” his advisor suddenly whispered right beside him. “I think it would be a good idea to continue the meeting. Some of your guests has some things to say about the...improvements you’re doing to the North.”

Yoongi clenched his jaw, eyes scanning over Taehyung once more before turning his attention to the other royals. “Sure,” he then says, “which one of you want to speak first?”

Not even a second later, Park Jimin, ruler of the Park Kingdom stood up from his seat and spoke. “Your Majesty, my council and I believe that the border that you have placed around my region is completely unnecessary.”

“How so?” Yoongi asks, leaning back against his chair with an amused look on his face. He had to admit that he was impressed that the blonde man was the first to speak up. He may not be the youngest royal out of everyone, but he certainly is the one with the least experience when it came politics.

“For starters your border cuts right through my kingdom’s river, slicing our water supply in half,” he starts, voice slightly raising. “And the amount of wood you required for the construction of the wall resulted in about ninety percent of the forests in my region to be completely cut down, forcing most of my workers into unemployment.”

Yoongi continued to listen closely with his hands laced together and resting on top of his chest, rocking back and forth in his chair with an intent glint in his eyes.

“I also find it completely unfair how your border only crosses over my kingdom but no one else’s.” Jimin continued to rant, jamming his finger repeatedly angerly against the table while keeping his eye contact with him. “I think it’s not for protection like you have claimed many of times, but as a prison, to keep my people in check. You’re nothing but a—”

Yoongi slammed his hand heavily onto the table, instantly silencing the young royal and causing everyone to gulp nervously. He may at times find it amusing when someone fights back, but he will never allow anyone to talk down against him, not in his own residence.

“You think I built that wall as a prison?” Yoongi asks, chuckling when the blonde man didn’t reply. “Are you forgetting what happened before I built that wall? Spies from the South would come right into our territories and would gather information on us, murder our people in their sleep—that’s how your parents died, am I correct? Some spy that sneaked into their palace assassinated them when they were asleep? It would such a shame if the same thing happens to you—after I take down the wall, of course.”

Yoongi smirked when noticing the seeing Jimin’s jaw clenching and hands angrily balling into fists. “So don’t you ever accuse me again? Because everything I do is for the best of my people, not just yours. The wall is only bordering your land because your land is the only one that connects with the South.”

Jimin’s head hung low, hands unclenching and lips dropping into the frown.

“So before you come at me, you should make sure that you have all the information, do you understand me?” Jimin nodded and sat down.

Everybody tensed when Yoongi then stood up from his seat and slowly, intimidatingly made his way to Jimin’s chair. And when placing his hands on the younger man’s shoulders, Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle when feeling him jump slightly underneath his touch. “Normally I’d kill anyone who spoke to me that way,” leaning down, he whispered into Jimin’s ear, sending chills along his pale skin, “but I’ll let it slide for once since you’re new to this whole thing.”

“T-Thank you, your Majesty.”

With one last pat on the shaking man’s shoulder, Yoongi pulled away, and he was standing straight again, his eyes suddenly fell on your figure who stood near the entrance of the conference hall. But you weren’t alone, no, three servants that he couldn’t recognize was with you. The four of you seemed to be in a deep conversation, and with everybody focused on him, nobody noticed you.

Yoongi’s eyes slightly squinted out of suspicion when seeing you then bow your head at the three servants, a smile on your face before each of you went your separate ways.

Yoongi is definitely going to look into that.

“Now,” returning his attention back to his guests, Yoongi leaned himself against the table, keeping close to the blonde man that was still trembling. “Does anyone else have anything to say to me?”

“N-No no, your Majesty,” Jung Hoseok, another royal spoke up, gulping anxiously as he tightened his hand around his wife’s who sat beside him. “We have no complaints whatsoever, you’re doing an amazing job—the perfect ruler.”

Kiss ass, Yoongi rolled his eyes, pushing himself away from the table. He then shifted his attention towards your husband and asks, “what about you, your Highness? Anything to say?”

Taehyung shook his head. “No, your Majesty.”

“What a bunch spineless people,” Yoongi’s mind scoffed, and he couldn’t agree more.

His advisor then rose from his chair and spoke up, “okay everyone, thank you all for attending his Majesty’s annual end of conference feast this year. You may all now return to your rooms and get some rest before heading back to your own residences in the morning.”

Yoongi stayed back and bid farewell to everyone, and once everyone was gone he left the conference hall with only one thing on his mind—you. He was determined to find out what exactly were you and those three servants were discussing about. Yoongi was so rapt on you that he didn’t even hear his advisor calling out of him to come back.

He practically jogged to the chambers hall, heading straight to your room and when he got there, just as he was about barge right through the door he was then stopped by a sudden sound. Moans could be heard on the other side of the door—female moans. Yoongi’s hands were already hovering over the door handle before he opened it slightly to where there was only a crack, giving him the view of seeing your husband with same servant girl from the night before.

Yoongi watches as she claws his back, legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he place open mouth kisses along her bare chest and thrusted deep into her, causing loud, pleasurable moans to erupt from both of their mouths.

“T-Tae,” the young servant girl gasped, hands running up and down his sweaty back and fingers digging into his marked, glistening skin. “I’m close.”

“Me too, love,” he groaned back, leaning down and capturing her lips into a passionate kiss. “Together, okay...?”

Utterly shameless, Yoongi shook his head and pushed away from the door with disgust. Just as he was about to continue searching for you, he froze at the sound a voice behind him—a female voice.

“Are you looking for Lady Kim, your Majesty?”

Yoongi turned around and was greeted by one of your servants, hands laced together and hanging in front of her with a wide smile on her face. “No, I’m not,” he quickly replied, shaking his head. He expected her to just nod her head and leave, but instead she released a small chuckle and turned around, saying in a soft tone, “follow me.”

Yoongi was hesitant, eyes burning suspiciously into the servant girl’s back as she began to walk away. But he soon decided to follow her despite the constant warnings that were running through his head at the moment.

The servant’s gaze was trained on the path in front of her, not even bothering to acknowledge the glare she was receiving by platinum-haired man that was trailing right behind her.

The warnings that were consuming Yoongi’s head started to get louder as he continued to follow her deeper into his residence, parts of his home that he hasn’t even been in.

Yoongi stopped in his place when the servant led him to a room with dark, double doors. “What is this,” he asks with a cold expression, causing the young girl to chuckle and open the door without saying a word to him. He was about to question her even more but when he got to see what was behind the door, leaving him speechless.

Standing right in front him was you, along with over a dozen guards and servants that were from many different kingdoms. Some of the guards and servants were part of the Park Kingdom, some were from the Jung Kingdom, and others were from your own home.

“What’s going on here?” Yoongi asks, his eyes glancing across the many different pairs that were staring right back at him.

“They work for me,” came out of your mouth. “We are all part of movement that believes that the North needs a change in leadership—which is you. You’re the only that deserves to rule the North, not these cowards.”

Yoongi was speechless. For once in his life he didn’t know to say. For the first time he wasn’t the one that was planning in the shadows, plotting against somebody—but instead it was people who he has never even met before. “Why,” was the only thing that came out of his mouth.

“Because war is coming your Majesty,” you stepped towards him to where you stood only inches away from his face, staring up to meet his eyes. “My agents told me that the South is planning an invasion into our territory, and the way the other kingdoms are ruling their land—we won’t survive this war. You are the only one that is capable of leading us to victory.”

Yoongi turned towards your followers. “Do you all agree with him?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” one of the guards spoke up. Each and every person then stepped forward and began to speak loudly on their opinions of their leaders.

“Park Jimin is too young to be King—he doesn’t know how to rule.”

“He can’t even hold a sword properly.”

“Jung Hoseok is a spineless man!”

“Damn right he is! The moment the South comes barging intl his palace, he’ll do whatever it takes to save his own skin and not his people.”

“Kim Taehyung is shameless bastard who would rather spend his time fucking his servants than leading his own Kingdom.”

Yoongi could see you snicker at that comment.

“He spends our taxes buying whores instead of using it to improve our home.”

“None of them belong on the throne!”

“They are right, your Majesty,” you stared at him with a small smirk on your lips. “Out of everyone, you’re the only that deserves to rule us. You are the one who will lead us to glory.”

Yoongi stared down at you with such desire. He may have found you attractive before, but now he couldn’t help but find you utterly irresistible. “So this isn’t just some power trip? Doing all this just to get to the top?”

Yoongi had his suspicions already about the war. He has heard from his own agents that the South were planning on some sort of invasion, but there wasn’t any evidence that confirmed that. So sadly he hasn’t been able to do any preparations—at least, none without the other royals knowledge of it.

You shook your head. “I don’t care about power, your Majesty—only survival, and you’re the best way to achieve that.”

“I see,” Yoongi reached up and stroked his chin, “how would you all do this anyway? Kill the rulers of each Kingdom can be tricky, and what about their heirs?”

“It’s quite easy,” you answered with a small grin. “They all have their jobs,” you nodded at your followers, “once they are home and unguarded, that is when they’ll strike. And as for their heirs, well, that’s not really a problem.”

Yoongi raised a brow. “Jung Hoseok’s wife is unable to bare a child, and he also doesn’t have any younger siblings to take over. So once he passes, rulership of his Kingdom immediately goes over to you. Same goes for my husband and Park Jimin.”

“I see,” Yoongi hums, biting inside of his cheek. “So what’s my job then?”

You smirk. “The only thing you have to do is have your succession speech ready, your Majesty.”

“But I have another problem,” Yoongi added. “Many people already disagree with our war with the South. How will we manage to persuade them that this is necessary? It’ll be difficult since three of the four leaders of the North are dead.”

“Trust me, your Majesty,” you spoke with such clarity and a smile on your face. “Everything is planned out and you don’t have to worry.”

Yoongi didn’t replay, eyes briefly glancing at the people that surrounded him. You must’ve noticed his still cautious state because next thing he knew you were signaling everybody out, telling them to “get some rest and prepare for your departure in the morning.”

“Why are you doing this exactly?” Yoongi asks the moment you two were alone in the room. “Because there is no damn way you’re doing this just for survival. I mean,” he suddenly chuckles, “you are giving complete control of the North. What is your angle here? Are you going to kill me after all this is so that you become Emperor?” Yoongi was starting to get frustrated. He has never had trouble understanding someone before until he met you. And now because of you, his mind was a complete mess.

“That’s not my intention at all, your Majesty,” smiling up at him, you placed your hand on his shoulder, smirking at the feeling of him tensing underneath your fingertips. “All I want is for the North, my home—your home to finally come out of its shadow that it has been forced to hide in for centuries.”

“And you think I’m the one that can do that?”

“Yes,” you nod, fingers dancing across his chest. “I’ve read records of previous Emperors and you’re the only that deserves that title. Unlike the other ones, you are resilient, intelligent, ruthless if necessary, and you even fight alongside your men which no other Emperor has done before.”

As each compliment came out of your mouth, Yoongi couldn’t help but feel himself starting to get hard underneath his lower robes, and you running your hands seductively over his chest definitely wasn’t helping.

“How should I repay you for your kindness then,” Yoongi found himself melting against your touch, his hands finding their way into your waist. “Because someone like you definitely deserves an reward for their loyalty.” Yoongi then turns you around in one quick motion, causing you to gasp at the sudden action and feeling his strong chest pressed up against your back and lips brushing against your ear.

A tiny moan escaped from your lips when feeling his hard length suddenly rub against your ass, you yourself starting to get hard as well. “Should I buy you plenty of jewelry, or maybe a large palace just for you?” Yoongi then pushed you up against the wall, smirking at the small gasp that came from you. “Or perhaps,” another moan came out of your mouth when one of his hands slipped underneath your robes and caressed the soft flesh of your behind, “make you wife?”

Yoongi chuckled when feeling shiver against him. “Yeah, you would like that, huh? Being my wife, an Empress, ruling right beside me?”

“Y-Yes, your Majesty,” you stuttered out, tilting your head back from the sensation, giving Yoongi the opportunity to lean down and leaving wet, tender kisses along your neck and bare shoulder, leaving dark bruises that’ll be near impossible to cover up tomorrow morning.

“Good,” Yoongi left another mark on your skin, dragging his finger across your ass, teasing your clenching hole with his fingertip. “Then how about we—secure our deal, then? And when you nodded, that was all Yoongi needed before turning you around to face him and crashing his lips down forcefully onto yours. The kiss was rough, yet tender and filled with lust. With your hands around his neck, Yoongi’s slid down to your thighs and hoisted you up into his arms, deepening the kiss with his lips moving in perfect sync against yours.

The kiss was like a drug that neither of you couldn’t get enough of.

“Please, your Majesty,” you whimpered against his lips, which made Yoongi want you even more than he already did. “Can you please h-hurry?”

Yoongi smirked against your lips, pulling away. “Don’t worry, my love, just be patient.”

It was quite ironic though, because Yoongi was everything but patient when it came to you. He couldn’t wait any longer. Instead of carrying you all the way to his chamber, he laid you on the closest flat surface which happened to be a table and tore your robes completely off of you, leaving you bare and them in ruins.

Yoongi decided to take his sweet time with you, dragging his lips across your ankles, up your legs to your meaty thighs. He then began to leave open mouth kisses over your abdomen and up your chest, teasing your nipples with his tongue and grazing the wet muscle over your collarbone. Yoongi continued his assault on your body until he reached back up your lips, capturing them this time into a soft, passionate kiss which you gladly returned without a second thought, hands sliding up to his shoulders and helping him strip from his own robes, revealing his pale and toned body.

Your mouth watered at the sight of him, eyeing his define muscles, the way his abs clenched as he climbed onto the table and hovered over you, and the way his biceps bulged as he held himself above you. “Y-Your Majesty—”

“Yoongi,” he cut you off, pulling away and moving his lips to your throat. “Call me, Yoongi, my love.”

“Y-Yoongi,” you tried out, heart warming in both of your chests once hearing his name come out of your mouth. It sounded right coming from you. “Please—”

“Don’t worry, my love,” Yoongi reassured you, moving his lips back up to yours. “I’m here, I’m here. Let me show you how it feels to be loved by a real man, yeah?”

The night was then soon filled with nothing but the sound your combined moans, skin slapping and the shared whispers of sweet words between one another.

This was the start of something new.

“T-Taehyung, faster, faster please!”

The sound of the woman’s moans and the bed’s headboard banging against the connecting wall to your room made your blood boil. Your hands clenched into fists and teeth biting angrily down onto your lips.

“Be patient, my love,” you could hear your husband say through the thin wall, making the rage that flowed through your veins grow more. “Let me cherish you, beautiful...”

“Your Highness,” the sound of a man’s voice tore you out of your thoughts, “I’ve done what you’ve asked me to do.”

“Everything’s prepared and ready?”

The guard nodded his head once you turned around, “yes, your Highness. The only people remaining in the palace are your loyal followers. Everyone else has been sent home.”

“Good,” only came out of your mouth before leaving your chambers with the guard following closely behind you. You walked over next door and didn’t bother knocking before barging right in, your husband and the girl instantly jumping to cover themselves with the thin bedsheets.

“What the fuck?!” Taehyung curses loudly, staring at you with wide eyes and wrapping his arms around the girl’s waist, pulling her close. “What are you doing here? I told already you that I’m staying here tonight.”

“I know,” you replied with not even a single ounce of emotion heard in your voice.

Taehyung’s eyes then shifted towards the guard that stood beside you. “What’s going on here?”

You didn’t say anything, only smiled, and that caused fear to form in the pit of Taehyung’s gut. With just the simple nod of your head, the guard walked over to the servant girl and snatched her by her hair, tearing her away from his grasp and yanking her off the bed and onto the ground.

“Stop—” Taehyung tried to reach for her but stopped when the guard pulled out a dagger and held the sharp blade against her neck, tears shining in her eyes. He then turned towards you, eyes glistening as well, “why are you doing this?”

“Change,” was all you said before nodding your head again, giving the guard the order to slide his blade across the girl’s throat, killing her instantly and letting her limp body collapse into the ground.

“N-No no,” Taehyung didn’t hesitate this time to jump out of the bed, despite being completely nude and taking her now lifeless body into his arms, blood staining the ground and his skin, and tears spilling uncontrollably from his eyes. “She was pregnant...”

“Oh well.”

Taehyung’s head shot up from your heartless comment, his teary eyes shining with a newfound rage. Before he had the chance to say anything the guard approached him from behind and wrapped his arms tightly around his neck. He immediately began clawing at his arms, trying to gasp for air that was becoming harder and harder to obtain, eyes bright red and nearly bulging out, tears slipping from them and sliding down his cheeks.

The last thing he saw before he took his last breath and eyes slowly closed was you standing in front of him with a sinister grin on your lips.

“Your Majesty.”

Yoongi glanced up from his book to see his personal advisor standing right in front of him by his library’s entrance. He hummed in reply, signaling for the young man to continue. We’ve gotten word from Lady Kim—” Yoongi glared at him, causing his advisor to pause and correct his words, “—I mean, ____’s agents that they have completed their duties.”

“They have?” Yoongi asked with a raised brow. He knew you were more than capable of doing this, but he thought something this major would take at least a week to accomplish. He didn’t expect to hear about any success a day later.

“Yes, your Majesty,” his advisor nodded. “The Jung palace is flames at this moment and there is word that Jung Hoseok himself and his wife were in their chambers when the fire happened. And as for Park Jimin, he was found murdered in his bed with a dagger in his chest. Some say it was one of his concubines that done it.”

“What about Kim Taehyung?” Yoongi found himself asking, his mind instantly thinking of you. “Was ___ successful?”

“Yes, your Majesty he was,” his advisor answered. “I was informed about Kim Taehyung’s death by ___ himself.”

Yoongi couldn’t stop the smile forming on his lips. “Good.”

“Would you like to start writing your succession speech now, your Majesty?”

“Yes,” Yoongi answered. “We’ll have the succession conference next week, and make sure every minor clan leader comes so that they know who is in charge now.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” his advisor nodded his head, and before leaving he turned back and said to him in a teasing tone, “oh, and someone is here to see you.”

Yoongi was about to ask him who it was, but he stopped himself when his eyes suddenly landed on you standing in his library’s entrance, his heart stopping in his chest at the sight of you. “H-Hey,” he stuttered out, cringing at the sound of himself. In all his years of living, nobody has ever had this type of power over him—but he wasn’t complaining either.

“Hello, your Majesty,” your reply sent tingles all over his body—and he loved it.

There was nothing but silence afterwards between you two because there wasn’t any need for words. The only thing you two needed to express the feelings you have for each other was your eyes—the passion, the lust, the want that shined in them.

This is just the beginning for you two.

would you guys like to see a drabble series of these two in the future maybe? emperor yoongi and his male wife.

TAGLIST:

@ben-c0c, @sombreboy, @theclawofsa, @joongtoons, @xavi-in-kpopland, @ephemeralkookie, @yoshiure, @illbeyournightmare, @sonderkook, @spaceisbigger, @catboygyu, @justqueerandhereforthetea, @xxminilah​

[readiajin]

To Love Herself

Helloooo acotar fandom. Or just Nessian fandom. 

I have gone back and forth loving and hating acosf, but finally pinpointed the breaking point for me. I hated how the story played out after Nesta told Feyre about the baby. There was so much potential with how that whole situation could be handled. Instead Nesta was blamed for everything, with no one else ever taking responsibility. 

Because of that I have decided to try my hand at writing a fanfic starting from that point in acosf. Below is what I would call the prologue and the beginning of the first chapter. 

I have never posted anything I have written before, so please be kind. I would love feedback on it and if people are curious I will continue it. 

Prologue

Nesta didn’t care. Couldn’t think around the roaring. “Have any of them told you, their respected high lady, that the baby in your womb will kill you?”

It broke something in Nesta—broke that rage, that roaring—- seeing those tears begin to fall, the fear crumpling Feyre’s painted-smeared face.

She had gone too far. She… Oh gods.

Amren said, “I think it is best, girl, if you speak to Rhysand about this.”

Nesta couldn’t bear it—the pain and fear and love on Feyre’s face as she caressed her stomach.

Amren growled at Nesta, “I hope you’re content now.”

Nesta didn’t respond. Didn’t know what to say or do with herself. She simply turned on her heel and ran from the apartment.

Nesta ran into the streets, escaping down side alleys, not caring where she went, as long as it was away. Away from Feyre and her pain, the pain Nesta had just so cruelly added to. Away from Amran, the first friend Nesta had once thought she was. Away from the rest of her sister’s new family.

Nesta had thought she was getting better. She had been trying, with Gwyn and Emerie. With Cassian. She had searched for the Dread Trove, to protect Elain. She had initially followed Rhysand’s order not to tell Feyre about the risk of the baby...

But standing in that apartment, Nesta had realized none of it mattered. Not while Feyre cried and Amran looked at her with such hatred and disgust. For all her efforts, Feyre and her Inner Circle would never like Nesta.

As she ran Nesta couldn’t entirely blame them. She didn’t like who she was either. Didn’t like the things she said, or what she did, or how she felt. She didn’t like her powers either, not when they were a manifestation of all the worst things about her. They were all better off without her.

The realization slammed into Nesta. It was not the first time she had thought it. She had lived in her rundown apartment for exactly that reason, to put space between her and her sister’s family. But they had always dragged her back in with parties and dinners, insisting Nesta be there. They only ever resulted in her once again feeling out of place and giving them all more reasons to loathe her. Until finally they had forced her to the House Of Wind

Nesta came to a halt in an ally that opened up to the Sidra and the setting sun. Her red hot anger from earlier was gone, replaced with that numb feeling that she had lived with for so long, the feeling she had been beginning to forget. How quickly it returned.

Feyre’s crumpled face flashed in her mind. Nesta knew they would be coming for her. Feyre deserved to know the truth about her baby, her body. Everyone had the right to the truth. But Rhysand, Amren, and the rest of them didn’t care about that. They only cared how Nesta made Feyre feel, so they would blame her. Including Cassian.

Cassian who she trusted, who she had let in despite knowing better. No one had ever tried as much as he had with her, but in the end he would always choose Feyre and the Inner Circle. He had continued to talk to them about her and keep things from her because of them.

No matter what he was to her, he was also better off without her. She was a burden he had been handling, but today proved it was all pointless. Nothing and nobody could fix her.

Her powers curled in her gut as she stared at the sparking water. She wanted to disappear.

So do it A voice whispered.

Silver flames sparked at the tips of Nesta’s fingers.

Disappear

Nesta hugged her hands to her chest, letting the cold flames sparkle across her body. Amren has been right. Nesta hadn’t had any interest in her powers. But now they were all she had left. They were the only thing that had made her worth anything to the others. But maybe now they were her answer. Nesta closed her eyes and let her leash slip, let the magic decide. Disappear.

“NESTA!” a distant voice shouted.

A voice Nesta knew in her soul.

As the world twisted in flicking silver, Nesta turned and glanced at the sky. Hazel eyes locked onto hers, and Nesta felt his anger and alarm. His horror. All about her. But not anymore. Nesta felt a single tear escape down her cheek as she allowed her magic to consume her, and let go.

•••••

Chapter 1 (1st part)

Do you plan on coming home soon Feyre darling?

Feyre sent a huff of a laugh back at Rhys. Why? Does somebody miss me?

Two somebodies actually. Rhys replied, Nyx wants to show you how he has improved his flying with Uncle Azriel today.

Feyre smiled at the image of her son jumping off couches to fly around the room played in her mind. She currently sat in her studio, working on a painting of Nyx flying with his father. She planned on saving it for his eighth birthday present in a couple months.

Feyre glanced out the window, where the streets were only illuminated by streetlight on the moonless night. She hasn’t realized how late it had become.

I’ll be home soon, I just have to clean up.

Don’t keep me waiting too long, Rhys rumbled back. A shiver went down Feyre’s spin as she cut off the connection with her mate to concentrate on cleaning.

She walked around the room, turning off most of the lights before going to the back to wash her brushes and pallet. As she stood at the sink, she suddenly felt a cold breeze at the back of her neck.

Feyre froze. She raised her head to look at the paint splattered mirror above the sinks. Through the smudged glass she could see a dark cloaked figure standing behind her.

Slowly, Feyre turned. “Who are you?” She demanded. “It’s not wise to sneak up on a High Lady.”

The figure stood perfectly still. As they stared at each other the temperature in the room seemed to drop. Finally the figure tilted their head to the side slightly. “Well? What do you want?”

An indignant huff came from beneath the cloak before reaching up to pull back their hood.

Feyre’s mind went blank as she took in her sister, whom she hadn’t seen or heard from in over 8 years.

“Hello Feyre.” Was all Nesta said.

Feyre stared at her older sister. Not a day had gone by since that terrible day in Amren’s apartment that Feyre hadn’t thought of Nesta. Not a day she hadn’t wondered, worried. They had searched for her. Had even reached out to the other courts when they became desperate for answers. But there had been no trace of her since Cassian had seen her consumed by silver flames.

Now standing before her, the first thing Feyre noticed was how healthy she looked. Nesta had slowly begun to look better after living in the House and training with Cassian for a few weeks. She had been gaining a little weight and some color back then.

But stepping in to the light cast from lanterns on the back counter, Nesta seemed to glow with health. Her hair was braided in its classic crown, but her face was full and tanned from being in the sun. Her eyes still held the same stormy intensity they always had, but the haunted look she had had was now replaced with a silver gleam.

Although most of her body was covered in a dark cloak, Feyre could see she was wearing fighting leathers— not Illyarian leathers. And peaking out over her right shoulder, was the pommel of a great sword. The Great Sword, the one she had accidentally Made. The sword that, along with the two other Made weapons, had been stolen from where they had been locked in the river house. The same night several priestess disappeared from the Library.

•••••

[cafeinthemoon]

From the Human Heart - Chapter III

Chapter: 3/4

Wordcount: 2905

Title: The Lamb and the Knife

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna X reader

Previous chapters

1 . 2

Symbols: ⭕ . ➕ . 💛 . ▶️▶️

Warning (s): Mental breakdown, mental instability (one occurrence in the beginning of the chapter)

N. A.: I confess I was a bit afraid that this chapter ended up too sad or depressing during reader's return to the village, because what she sees there is something that could break anyone's spirit, and with her things are not different. However this story has a happy ending, so I guess I can make up for it 😅 Also, I was planning to finish the story in this chapter, but the text ended up being too long, so I had to add a fourth chapter. I usually avoid establishing a number of chapters in my wips because they always get longer than I plan, but this one should be a short story (guess I failed in this smh)

A shiver ran all over your body and woke you up in an instant.

You didn’t open your eyes yet, but you knew you were lying on something cold, having your cloak to protect you from the chilling breeze of the morning. Morning? Something was telling you that it was morning already. Well, in that case… when did you fall asleep? What happened to you while you were not awake?

The rustling noise of the leaves was heard when you moved on your spot, your right arm aching after spending a long time in the same position. You opened your eyes at last and found a gray, autumnal day around you, the fainting light barely breaking through the dense top of the trees. All you could see was brown, red and yellow, as expected. Fortunately, winter hasn’t reached you yet.

That was strange, to be honest. Why would you think you’ve spent more than one night in that place, long enough to not see the change of seasons?

You sat on the forest’s ground and checked your own state. Everything was in its place: your dress, with the slit in the cleavage made by the King of Curses; the cut in your cloak’s stripe was still there, but the stripe was tied up again around your neck, a bit tighter; your empty bag was on the ground, serving as a pillow in that wild, improvised bed. Was it you that arranged things this way? Was it him? You didn’t know, and you didn’t think that finding out the truth would bring you any comfort.

In an urge to make sure you were alright, you opened your cleavage and checked your skin in the spot touched by Sukuna to seal the pact. There was no stain, no wound, no mark there; you weren’t feeling pain, burning or ache. Nothing changed in it. Of course not, you old yourself: what he did was an enchantment to change your soul, not your body. Any change that could come from it would not be visible to the eye.

With effort, you took your bag and stood up. You shook the leaves and tugs off your dress and cloak and took a second look at your surroundings. That was the same clearing in which you met Sukuna, and you were lying among the roots of the same tree you stopped at to read the sentences of the ritual.

The clearing didn’t seem so large and mysterious now that you were seeing it under the day light. It was silent, unlike the moment when you found it, full of sounds of night birds and small predators rushing their paws through the leaves, out of your sight. All that life was now gone, as if it has never existed.

A blow of cold wind twirled and passed by you before you could see where it came from, carrying leaves and dust with it. You took it was a sign to leave, as if it was saying to you that there was nothing there but death and oblivion. You protected your eyes and once the column of dust moved away, you ran out of that place.

You didn’t know how you managed to run through the same way that brought you to that cursed forest without ending up breathless, aching and out of your mind. Your feet were carried down through its declined territory, full of traps and roots, not stumbling in a single one of them, nor your clothing were ripped or got stuck while you ran.

To you, you’ve been running forever: the more you moved forward, the more the scenario around you looked the same. Was it part of the enchantment or were you just tired, eager to return to your village and see the results of the treaty?

You relied on this latter and continued to move.

***

The village, seen from the high spot of the hill, was the same since you left it. Not that you should expect something else – you were changed, nor your old home. Besides, you couldn’t have left for so long. But it felt like years in your heart, and the night before landed as a dream in your memory now. You adjusted the hood upon your head and tightened your grip around your cloak: the cold breeze ran free without the trees to obstruct it and you wanted to protect yourself; and, despite your trust in the results of the enchantment, you still had no ways to know exactly who were going to see you or not, so that you didn’t want to expose yourself before you had the chance to explore the territory.

Well, when you were reaching the lowest spot of the hill you were left with minimal choices regarding this.

A commotion was happening at the village’s entry, not so far from the place you where standing: a group of people stared with desperation to two or three men who you recognized as members of the Jujutsu council, the ones your father used to refer as his closest allies among them; these men were trying, with great effort, to contain a man who screamed incomprehensible words in a harsh, animalistic voice and scaring the villagers. The man was dressed in the same traditional clothing of the sorcerers, but all the noble aspect of it was gone, replaced with rips and blood as if its owner was kept locked inside a cage and tried everything in his reach to escape it, fighting with people and weapons.

Your blood ran cold in your veins when you recognized the insane man as your father.

After that, it was like your ears were uncovered and you started to understand what he and the other men were saying. They were arguing under a case of thievery: a treasure has vanished from the Jujutsu collection at your father’s house; the masters were convinced that the responsible for the crime was now far away from the village and must have been a clever Jujutsu sorcerer since they managed to deceive all of them, including your father; however, they were confused by the story your father was telling.

Between one growl and another, this was what you could understand from his speech.

- I know exactly who did this! My daughter did this! My own daughter! And I will hunt her till the end of the world!

His own daughter. You.

Your feet stepped back in an unconscious urge to run, but somehow you stood to listen to the rest. You immediately understood the agitation among the Jujutsu masters: the treasure that disappeared was the flower, without which they could not stand a chance against its true owner. Without the jewel, all the lies told by them and their leader were going to be brought to the surface and the whole village was going to pay for their dishonesty.

But none of this has hit you like the realization that your father was talking about you, that he still remembered about you and was willing to come after you to recover the jewel.

And that the situation was not the same to anyone among the people around him.

- Please, enough with this nonsense, master y/sn! – one of the sorcerers was saying, struggling to hold the furious man by his arm.

- Enough with this! – a second man shouted with less patience – You have no daughter! You’ve never had!

Yes, it wasn’t that surprising that the elders couldn’t see you – they never hid their distaste towards you, the greatest obstacle to their ascension in your Jujutsu society. But you didn’t take too long to notice that they weren’t the only ones who have forgotten about you: the entire village has, or at least all the people who were at your sight, some of them known to you for years. Some of them you yourself used to love and respect, and have trusted with your life in the worst moments of your relationship with your father – people you could swear to love you back.

Could it be that you, known by your connection with the most important sorcerer of the village, was an unpleasant presence to them as much as your father must have been? Could it be that they only tolerated you because of him?

A tear rolled down your left cheek, dried by the cold wind that passed at that moment, strong enough to take off the hood of your head. You still weren’t sure of what was more painful: to realize that your father was the only one who remembered you or to see that not even the people you liked were able to reciprocate you just enough to not forget you after an enchantment.

Something died inside you while you saw that. So you just put your hood back and turned your back on your old home, restarting your way up the hill again and hurrying up before your father noticed your presence.

***

It wouldn’t make a great difference if you decided to stay in that forest if the next night reached you there, for you had nowhere to come back as much as you had no place to go to. You were no longer on a hurry: running up that hill twice in so little time has taken the remaining energy in your body and your spirit, so you started walking; if you were passing by the same paths you’ve crossed before, you didn’t know and didn’t care.

To say you were walking was too much. Your legs were shaking, and your numb feet were stumbling even before reaching the obstacles; your hands were doing their best to hold on to the branches and any other support they were able to find, since you couldn’t count on your eyes to guide you: you hadn’t go blind, but you weren’t seeing anything in your way. Your attention was all in what you just witnessed, not in what you had in front of you.

It was as if you just died and had the opportunity to come back to see how the people you knew were dealing with your absence. If you were honest to yourself, you would have already accepted that what you saw wasn’t unexpected at all; still, it wasn’t something that you could completely understand until it happened to you.

At some dense spot of the grove you stopped, despite not having any hopes of finding some rest. You held tight on a low branch to not fall of exhaustion and concentrated on your breath. It was when you noticed you didn’t sense the expected harshness of wood while touching its surface.

You looked at your hand and screamed – your skin, exposed until your fist, was blue. Blue, but not just as a way to say it was cold: it was indeed blue, as a frozen lake reflecting the winter sky. You stepped back as if that was the hand of a stranger, but it followed you and obeyed all your commands, not letting any space for doubts; it belonged to you. You turned it to see its back and noticed variations in the blue, stains of a darker shade, and saw that your nails were now indigo, all of them in a sharp shape, just like…

Just like Sukuna’s nails. A curse’s nails.

You gasped at the memory of his warning. This was what supposed to happen in case you didn’t accept the result of the enchantment. You looked again at your palms and saw no cut nor wound that the branches could cause to a human’s delicate skin – yours were intact, as expected from a resistant curse’s body part. You rolled up your dress’ sleeves to see if your arms were blue as well and observed in horror as the slow transformation reached them.

You adjusted the sleeves and stopped looking. There was no use in desperation. You adjusted the cloak around you and crossed your arms around yourself, accepting the punishment.

- For someone who was so determined just one day before, you do not seem so happy now… child.

His voice grew from the depths of the forest and reached you as if it vibrated by its own will, shaking every nerve you had in you, waking you up to the darkness of your new reality.

You turned to find the King of Curses in the middle of the clearing, just like the first time you’ve met, but now the day was still there above you, with no sign of the red shadows of the summoning. That could only mean one thing: he hasn’t left after the treaty; instead, he remained in those lands, perhaps observing you while you were unconscious or waiting for the next events in the village to take place.

Having him witnessing your downfall in all its bitter details disgusted you in a way you didn’t think to be possible. Still, you found strength to give him a verbal response.

- Haven’t you had enough fun by now? – and after a gasp – Why are you still here?

Sukuna shrugged, not even a little upset by your hostile reception.

- I was just passing by and happened to meet you again – he raised an eyebrow –I am surprised to see that you are still here, to be honest. I thought you have left these lands yesterday. This is the reason why you wanted the enchantment, is not it?

Before you could formulate an answer, he approached and lowered his four eyes to your hands; you clenched your fists and tried to hide them behind your back as a last attempt to save your dignity, but your move was ignored by him, who passed his hands around you and brought yours to his sight, examining their skin with simulated preoccupation. You gave up on any attempt to pull them back: though there was no harshness in the way he was holding them, you knew he had enough strength to break them in such case, or cut them off with the same easiness he has cut the stripe of your cloak or the lock of your hair.

- So it is happening already? – he frowned while caressing them with his thumbs, speaking more to himself than to you – So soon…

- Soon?! – you spat the word – Are you telling me you deceived me?!

Sukuna’s gaze turned to you in surprise at this accusation.

- What do you mean, brat?

- I gave you back the jewel my father stole from you and didn't ask for anything near its price in return, and yet look at me now!

- You knew that I was going to… that this was going to happen to me anyway… is this what you’re telling me, right?

- Hm?

His carefree manners were making you more and more furious and desperate.

- What did I do for you to deceive me like this?!

- Who said I deceived you? – he sighed – I thought you were smarter than this, dear. I was honest with you in our whole treaty. The seal was established according to the rules and the enchantment worked as well. Otherwise you would not have noticed any difference or, in a worst hypothesis, you would have died in the process. Well, not even I would be here in such case. If I broke the rules, I would be punished. You must know that.

You fell silent. That was true: in the Jujutsu world, if two individuals established a pact, both of them were under the obligation to respect the rules of the said pact, otherwise they would be punished – with death in the case of a human and with exorcism in the case of a curse. Still, you were convinced that something was wrong with your own deal.

- It cannot be…

You felt your eyes burning, full with tears that you weren’t able to contain. The weight of what you have done has reached you at last, and from it you couldn’t escape. But were you capable of carrying it? You doubted that.

You felt his hand wiping the tears of your cheek.

- Shhh… No more whining, dear – he lifted your chin to make you meet his gaze – Now, tell me what is going on... What is it that is upsetting you so much regarding the enchantment?

You were impatient, of course, but didn't offer any resistance. You spoke all at once before your voice could crack in a new burst of desperation.

- I came back to the village and found out that the only person who was able to see me was my father. No one else remembers me. And this situation made him insane… – you sobbed – Tell me, how is this possible?!

He giggled and assumed the tone of a Jujutsu teacher.

- You want me to confirm what you are not willing to tell yourself even in thoughts? Alright. I think I can do this for you. You know the rules as well as I do. If someone does not love you, they will forget about your existence. If they do, they will remember you, whether they are the only one in this case or not – and then, he had nothing for you now besides the logical conclusion of the case – So, if your father is the only one who can see you now… He must be the only one who loves you.

[snowdice]

Gaps in His Files (Part 6) [Relabeled; Refiled Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Patton

Characters:

Main: Logan, Patton

Appear: Remy, Virgil (but only in the epilogue)

Summary:

Logan Berry has learned many things the last 10 years: a lot of math and physics, a bit of humility, and how to be a hero being just a few. Through his education, his experience teaching, and his exploits as the superhero Bluebird, he’s changed in a lot of small and large ways. He has recorded these changes in well-organized documents and files. He’s even had to create two new file designations: a red one for files about his moonlighting at Bluebird, and a light blue one dedicated to his boyfriend, Patton.

When Bluebird is targeted by a memory device and all of those 10 years of progress suddenly disappear, Patton Sanders and Logan’s extensive files are left as his only resource to get those memories back. But what is Patton supposed to do when there are clear gaps in his files? And what does he do when he is one of them?

This is set 25 years before Sometimes Labels Fail though it’s story is completely independent of it and it is not necessary to read that one first.

Notes: Superhero AU, memory loss, past child abuse, past child neglect, unhealthy ideas about ones place in relationships, emotional suppression, self-deprecating thoughts, medical procedures mentioned, very brief unhealthy views of sex

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

There are some *cough* illusions to sexy times in this one. Also Patton is um... not doing okay.

Patton said words that he’d usually scold Logan for using when, after the warning, Logan’s eyes fluttered closed and he toppled forward. Patton caught him around the waist. He sighed. “I really wish I had your powers right about now,” he groaned while eyeing the distance to the couch.

Patton was not a weak man, but Logan was not a light one. He managed to maneuver him onto the couch, though his feet dragged the entire way. Patton situated him with a pillow behind his head and then went into the kitchen to grab the quite extensive first aid kit Logan kept there.

A quick check up told Patton that there was nothing physically wrong with Logan baring a few scrapes from the fight. Which meant Patton’s usefulness was quickly dwindling.

He resisted kissing the man even just on the forehead because that would be bad and wrong when he didn’t know who Patton was to him. Instead, he contented himself with gently stroking his hair back into place and covering him with a blanket from the closet in the front hallway.

After that was done, he went to the kitchen. He braced himself against Logan’s refrigerator door and took a few deep breaths. He guessed it was an almost breakdown in Logan’s kitchen kind of day. When he was eventually able to wrestle control over himself, he calmly opened the refrigerator. There were leftovers from two nights before when Patton had tried his best to teach Logan how to cook chicken enchiladas. Logan had resisted the venture by attempting to distract him by any means necessary (mostly kissing and wandering hands). It had half worked, but they’d still ended up with something edible even if the kitchen had been a complete mess.

He could have just warmed them up, but he needed something to do that he could pretend was useful. He found some frozen cooked chicken and started thawing it in the microwave while he chopped up some vegetables from the refrigerator. He stir-fired the vegetables with some soy sauce and garlic and added the chicken to the pan at the end. With no idea how long it would take for Logan to wake, he dished out a portion for himself and placed the rest in the fridge.

Eating did nothing to fill the growing hole of numbness inside him, but at least he wasn’t hungry.

If this was his own apartment, he would have just left his bowl on the table and the pan in the sink, but it wasn’t his apartment, so he washed and dried them both and put them back where they belonged.

Then there was nothing else to do.

…

He went back to the living room. Logan seemed to be sleeping easy and showed no signs of waking up anytime soon. Patton sat down on the chair next to the couch.

He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew, Patton’s eyes were closed, and he could feel a presence hanging over him. “What?” he asked without opening his eyes.

“We are in a sexual relationship,” Logan’s voice informed him.

Patton blinked open his eyes to look at him. He was leaning a bit too far into Patton’s space than would normally be polite, boxing him in against the back of the chair. “How…?”

“You have a key to my apartment, are comfortable enough in my kitchen to not only cook but to put everything back into place perfectly, and I have a hickey on my inner thigh.”

Patton’s face went red immediately. “Oh my god.”

“It is not a difficult deduction,” Logan continued. “I do have to compliment you. It is quite a large mark, assuming of course, that was the intention.”

Patton hid his face in his hands. “Oh my god.”

“It’s interesting. I have never had any romantic inclinations that I can remember. Is it just sexual?”

“What? No!” Patton sputtered.

He hummed, eyes scanning Patton like he was trying to figure out how he worked or perhaps more like he was trying to figure out what aspects of Patton would serve to intrigue a future version of himself enough to give him the time of day.

Patton swallowed. “Could you, um, give me a little space now, you think?”

“Why?” he asked with a frown. “I’d imagine you’d be used to such closeness considering we have had sex.”

“Yes, and at the moment, you are mentally a high school student.” Patton reached up and pushed at his forehead with two fingers. He stared at Patton for a few moments without moving and then slowly stood back up. Patton pushed himself into a less reclined position. “How’re you feeling?” he asked.

“My head still aches though not nearly as bad as it did before and, other than the small injuries I observed you have tended too, my body feels fine.”

“That’s good,” Patton said. “Let’s get you something to eat, and then I’ll check you over a bit more thoroughly to make sure there isn’t something I missed.”

Logan agreed and Patton dished him out a serving of the stir fry he’d made earlier and popped it into the microwave. Patton checked the clock: 4:30 am. He’d slept for a while. “Want coffee?” Patton asked. He nodded. Good. Patton was pretty sure he himself was going to need it. He started the coffee machine and Logan continued to watch him intently as though he’d never seen anyone make coffee before (not true as Logan had confessed to sneaking coffee behind his parent’s backs at the age of 12.)

“Could you tell me what you know about my current self?” Logan asked when Patton set the two mugs of coffee down.

“Sure, but do you want to be more specific? I know quite a bit about you.”

“You said I am 28 and I can afford an apartment. Do I have a job?”

“Sort of,” Patton replied. “You’re in your last year of your math PhD program and they pay you to teach a couple of low-level classes.”

Logan nodded. It likely wasn’t a surprise to him as even at 18 he’d been planning to attend graduate school in either math or physics.

“What am I teaching?”

“Calculus at the moment. Two discussion sections a week. You’ve taught up to discussion sections for first year graduate level classes, but you went for an easier assignment in your last semester to work on your dissertation.”

“Yes, yes, that all seems to plan,” he mumbled more to himself than to Patton while tapping his formulating-a-question pattern on the tabletop with his fingers.

“I seem to have a superhero persona. You are at least aware of said persona. Do you know how or why that alias came into existence?”

“Bluebird,” Patton provided. Logan’s nose twitched, and Patton laughed a bit. “No. You didn’t pick it, but it grew on you. You created the persona when you were 22 and just starting your graduate program. You were taking a physics course and noticed some strange behavior from your least favorite professor. It turned out he’d snapped under the pressure when one of his TAs missed a final exam the semester before and started to build a dooms day device. You were originally more of a vigilante actually, but when he almost killed a bunch of people, you quickly ended up a hero to the city. You just kinda… didn’t stop.”

Logan considered this for a moment. “That does make sense,” he admitted and then looked back at Patton. “Give me a brief overview of my foes,” he demanded and then tacked on, “please.”

Patton allowed himself to be grilled about Bluebird all through Logan’s breakfast from his enemies and allies to the public’s perception of him to details about the ‘special car.’

“You know a lot about me,” Logan said finally. “You answered all of my questions easily.”

“Any question you can come up with has likely already been deemed important enough information for you to share with me at some point.”

Logan scrutinized him with narrowed eyes. “How do I organize my files for Bluebird’s ventures.”

“Red files, hidden in your office, organized by different file types, and then by date.”

“What type of fabric is Bluebird’s costume?”

“A 60/40 bamboo/cotton blend because of ease of cleaning, breathability, and texture reasons.”

Logan paused and thought long and hard. “What’s Bluebird’s favorite color?”

Patton rolled his eyes fondly. “That’s just a question about you silly.” Logan continued to peer at him. “HEX number 3673b9.”

Logan looked surprised. His eyes scanned Patton up and down. “How many people know I’m a superhero?”

“Oh, uh, just me,” Patton said quietly. “At least that’s what you told me. Well, I think Remy may have guessed. He was in the surgery when you accidently said my name in mask, and he knows you and I pretty well now so…”

“The surgery?”

“Oh,” Patton said. “Right. I’m a doctor. I never remember to tell you that…” Logan raised an eyebrow. “That’s how I figured out who you were,” he explained. “I hadn’t told you I was a doctor and when you were going under anesthesia after being hurt helping the city, you called me by name and asked why I was a doctor. It wasn’t a hard guess from there.”

Logan nodded, his eyes sparking with understanding like they did when he finally figured out a concept he’d been struggling with for days. “A doctor,” he commented idly. “A useful companion to have.” Patton felt himself flinch, but Logan didn’t seem to notice having looked away and down at his coffee. Dismissing Patton as simply useful.

Well at least he was honest.

Patton bit back his emotions carefully. Actually, perhaps this was a good thing: the memory loss. Well, not a good thing, but maybe an opportunity. Maybe without Logan having years of knowledge about Patton and preconceived ideas about how he had to interact with him, Patton could figure out what on Earth was wrong with him.

Want to read more? Click below!

AO3 Part 7

[illusionsofdreaming]

guess I like playing with fire;

Notes: You’re on a mission and Claude’s ruining it spectacularly.

FT: Claude

What most people don’t realise is that what separates a good band of mercenaries from the bad are based on the quality of information they have and not the skills they boast. Intelligence on locations, knowledge of the land and insight on their enemies are what keeps the men alive at the end of the day. Any prowess with a weapon are decoration, the icing on the cake, some extra branding for their names. The best mercenaries have learned to hoard information and their information network is often a complex and extremely exclusive one.

For once your infamous mercenary nickname has uses other than to inspire fear and scare naughty children at night. After all who wouldn’t want to get in the good graces and be allied with the child of the Blade Breaker? There’s been rumours of increased monster activities and it just so happens that the rural city you were passing by where the Ashen Demon’s name was popular was also a hotspot for travelling mercenaries as well.

A simple reconnaissance mission was set up - you would hang around the taverns and gather information and return by day, hopefully with new insight regarding the validity of  these rumours, whether or not the resistance should be concerned.

The evening was still young, the tavern you chose had only just started filling. Your current table companions consisted of an axe wielder going by the name of Gildhart, a sharp nosed swordsman with a wicked scar down one cheek and a well built brawler who’s massive red mane was just barely held back by the bandana on her head. Conversation had been slow at first but by the third round of cards, their lips were starting to loosen.

“Damnit! I’ve heard of your prowess on the battlefields but who knew you’d be so vicious on the table too!” Janet scowled as she threw in her cards as you swept your new winnings to your side.

“The name Demon fits you alright!” Gildhart laughed, taking a large drink from his cup.

“Well, our opponent is an incredibly hard person to read, I believe we may have been playing at disadvantage all along.“ Kent, the name of the swordsman you remembered, smiled wryly at you.

“I don’t mind if you wish to try another game instead.“ you offered, palms up in invitation and away from the cards. It didn’t matter which game they chose anyways. You still remembered your father’s disapproval when he first found out, despite its inevitability considering the companions you grew up with.

“If I can’t stop you from cards, least I can do is make sure you won’t lose our entire fortune.”Jeralt had heaved a sigh then, placed you in his lap and proceeded to teach you the ways of gambling. That was the beginning of your colourful journey into becoming a master card shark, but that‘s a story for another day.

“Pah! We’re not cowards! Am I right boys?” Janet’s fist thumped on the table and for a moment you worried the furniture wouldn’t survive the weight of the brawler’s fist.

“Damn right we’re not!” Gildhart boomed and Kent sighed with a shrug, sealing their fates.

“Let me deal this round.” Kent offered with an apologetic smile your way which you nodded, taking no offence.

“So what dangers brings the Ashen Demon to these parts of Fódlan eh?” Janet asked as her companion began shuffling the cards.

You’ve been ready for this question and you gave a nonchalant shrug as you leaned back with your drink. “Trying our luck before circumstances forces our hand to pick a side.” With the war going on, it was inevitable that mercenaries bands would get absorbed into either side. The sympathetic and understanding nods from her companions seemed to agree.

“I have no love for needless slaughter, retirement might be imminent in my near future.” Kent mumbled softly as he dealt out cards.

You took your cards, taking time to organise them before casually throwing out your bait. “I’ve heard stories of problematic beasts cropping up around the area, there could be business in those desperate enough to spare some coin to hire our skills.”

“Ay, you’ve not heard wrong.” Gildhart coughed. “Although calling them problematic beasts would be an understatement.”

“Oh?” You breathed out, relaxing your shoulders. The wary glance shared amongst the mercenaries was not missed by your eyes. Silence overlapped the table and you played oblivious for a few moments before looking up. “Is everything alright? I understand if I have intruded on something you’d rather deal with yourself.”

“No, nothing like that.” Janet was quick to refute. “We might be confident in our skills but even we know this is not something we can handle.” The mercenaries seemed to share a look between them and some form of agreement must have been reached as they hunched forward in their seats and beckoned you to follow suit.

“They say monsters the size of houses, some with claws and teeth and others with scales appear overnight wiping out villages before disappearing the next day. No one knows where they come from or where they go afterwards. Others have tried hunting them and failed and those that survived an encounter are crippled by fear of what they’ve seen.” Kent relayed this with a somber expression, his eyes taking on a faraway sheen.

You took this in quietly. You understood their wariness, you have witnessed the destruction these beasts are capable of first hand. What concerned you however was their sudden appearances and disappearances. You folded your arms on the table as a frown crossed your face.

“Were the attacked villages known to have frequent monster sightings?”

Gildhart shook his head, rubbing his chin with a grimace. “Not that we know of. Pretty peaceful from what I remembered. The villagers never had any experience against anything larger than a wolf. Some of these men wielded nothing but woodcutting axes against these things.”

Could simple negligence and relaxed security caused the complete annihilation of a village in the short span of a day? Even if it were possible, with how chaotic Fódlan has become, it was common nowadays for simple villagers to be armed with some form of weapon to protect their family and not simple farmer’s tools. Unless... these were men who had been going on about their daily lives, who had been caught unaware and given no time to arm themselves, ambushed by creatures unleashed in the middle of their homes.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. You can’t leap to conclusions yet. You needed more information. However before you could ask another question you caught sight of something outside the window. It took your all to resist the instinct to turn around, instead you used your peripherals to confirm your worst fear: Claude Von Riegan, heir to the Riegan house,  leader of the Alliance resistance, lurking across the street just begging to be noticed.

“Excuse me for a while.” you stood up abruptly, shocking your companions who started reaching for their weapons which you stopped with a hand. “Sorry, thought I saw someone familiar. I’m going to step out for a while.”

“What about the game?” Gildhart eyes travelled from you to his hand of cards.

“Play without me.” You untied a pouch by your waist and threw it on the table. “Drinks on me.” And you breezed past them, just barely able to control your pace to a fast walk, despite the strongest desire to run.

“Think its a friend?”

“From the look in the Demon’s eyes?”

“Rest in pieces strang-“ the door closed behind you. You took a deep breath - Sothis knows you’d need it - and scanned the streets. It was almost laughable easy to spot him, wavy hair and green eyes, golden earring glinting in the darkness, smile stretching across face as he spotted you.

His hand was rising to wave but you grabbed him and dragged him away two streets down and shoved him into a indescript alley.

“Whoa teach, at least ask a guy out before-“

“What are you doing here Claude? I thought we’d agreed that you’d wait for my return.” You cut him off, fuming.

“Aw teach, it’s been hours. We’d all rest easier at night if you had someone to watch your back.” He laughed at the wilted glare you sent his way. “Alright so we’re not really worried and maybe I’m just a little nosy.”

Of all the people to come nosing in, it had to be Claude. The most high profile, easily recognisable mascot of the Alliance resistance. While you knew despite his flippant attitude, Claude would never do anything to jeopardise the war efforts, his being here meant he’s comfortable and confident in his ability to get out unscathed.

You sighed and relaxed against a wall, since he was here anyways you might as well pass on what you’ve gathered so far. “I haven’t gotten much yet.” you warned and made sure to direct a pointed glare towards him before relaying what you’ve heard and your theories so far.

He had a hand on his chin as he listened, brows furrowed in a contemplative expression. “Almost like what happened back in the chapel in Garreg Mach...” He was mumbling to himself but the words brought back a flood of memories you had avoided revisiting.

You vividly remembered the ruins, the screams of students and roars of creatures rending the air. The cold and the overwhelming numbness that took you as you held the motionless body of your only family. You were alone, truly alone and the cold was seeping into your blood, your bones, your soul. What little emotions you’ve gained these past few months was being stripped by the cold. There’s no one left-

“___________.” His hand was warm against your skin, a shocking contrast that brought you back, burning away the ice in your veins. His gaze was apologetic and a touch concerned, his hold on you was supportive but not restrictive.

You shook your head lightly, stepping back from his touch and he released you. “I’m fine.” You muttered, brushing a hand through your hair, disappointed for getting carried away.

His eyes watched you, “Of course, teach. I never doubted that.” He said quietly with a smile, the sincerity in his tone hard to ignore and it made the breath in your lungs catch in your throat. There were times like these, where the masks he wore would slip and you would hear the strength of his convictions and beliefs. That truly, despite your lapse in emotions, all your flaws and imperfections, he knew you’d be alright, you’d pull through, even when you don’t believe it yourself.

You averted your eyes. “You should get back to the others Claude.” You were about to shoo him off when you heard footsteps approaching. You panicked. The leader of the Leicester Alliance can’t be seen here, skulking about in dark alleyways like some scoundrel with nefarious intentions. With how tensed and chaotic everything's been with the war, the last thing the Alliance needed was doubt to be casted on their leader's reputation. In a split-second decision, you pushed him against the wall, into the shadows. Your hand wrapped around the back of his neck and pulled him down to meet your lips, purposely angling yourself so that most of your profile blocked Claude’s features from view.

Though initially stiff with surprise, Claude quickly caught on. It was remarkable how quickly he adapted, tension from his shoulders melting off as he relaxed his hand on your waist, fingers curling on your hip like a possessive lover.

There was a gasp of surprise as the footsteps halted. “Is that-”

A convincing groan from Claude convinced the stragglers to pick up their pace and a few seconds later they were gone.

Immediately you moved away to check but Claude lunged for you, tugging you to his side as laughter crossed the alleyway. With one arm rested against the wall to shield your faces, you had a second to take in his boyish smile before he dipped down to kiss you again, his hand held your chin with surprising gentleness. In return you pulled on his curls just on a touch side of painful which made him grunt, a soft breath of amusement puffed against your lips.

The strangers passed by his back and Claude pressed closer, ducking his head further. It was easy to ignore the lewd taunts and whistles they threw over their shoulders as they walked past when all you could focus on was how soft his lips were, how you’re positively sure all the blood in your body had rushed to your face.

This time when the strangers left, neither of you parted immediately, just to be sure. In the shadows, you counted down seconds and when it seems no further strangers would be passing by, you stepped away.

“Well,” Claude started with a soft laugh but it was strained and for once he seemed to be struggling with his words. “I didn’t know you felt that way about me teach.” He tried to be casual, but his usual flippant tone was ruined by the breathlessness in his voice. This uncertainty from Claude, someone who always seemed to have a reaction and smile prepared for every scenario, was unexpected... and it stirred something uncomfortable in your chest.

“I couldn’t let them see your face.” You explained, ignoring the tingling in your lips and the lingering thoughts of how it felt to have your fingers in his wavy curls. “This wouldn’t have happened if you had followed the plan in the first place.”

He chuckled, mask back on, his arms drew back to cross behind his head in his signature lazy half stretch. “Ah, well, you know me and instructions teach.”

You shook your head as you willed the heat from your face to disperse. “Get out of here before you get caught for real Claude.”

You turned to leave the alleyway but he reached out to grab your wrist. “__________, about what happened-“

“We’re not talking about this.” You whipped around and gave him a firm glare, determined to end the conversation before it started. There’s a ball of emotions curling in your chest that you’re not ready to unravel. You needed time and there’s still a mission to be completed.

His green eyes were bright as he released your hand with a laugh. “Not even a li-”

“No.”

Claude’s smile was knowing as his thumb traced the bottom of his lips, grinning when your eyes inadvertently followed the movement.

“If you say so, my friend.” He hummed, expression thoughtful as he gave a small shrug.

“Go now.” You’re almost impatient to return to the tavern. You’ve never had a preference for drinks, not like your father, but now you find yourself desperately craving for something strong.

“Although your cold dismissal hurts, I shall do as you wish and promptly remove myself from your vicinity.” He swept into a dramatic bow, but its effect was ruined when he looked up not a moment later with a cheeky wink.

He dodged your half-hearted kick and his laugh made him look like he’s never aged a day beyond seventeen and it stayed on your mind for the rest of the night.

You were woken the next morning by the uproar in camp, although not for the reason you’d expected. Apparently words of mysterious strangers hidden in the back alley became the story of the town and soon bards were singing songs of the Ashen Demon’s midnight tryst much to your abject horror and Claude’s great amusement. You knew a betting pool was being set up, something you’re determined to sabotage.

You’re hiding in your tent, with a pounding headache,  not willing to reign in the chaos outside just yet.

A breath of fresh air washed into your tent as someone entered.

“How bad is it?” You threw out before the other could say a word.

He didn’t answer immediately, humming thoughtfully as he set down the tray of food he was carrying on the coffee table. “I think my favourite version has to be the one where the Ashen Demon seduced the local hero, single handedly finish the war with the blessed sword before riding the Immaculate One into the sunset.”

The story was so outlandish you couldn’t even dignify it with a proper response and opted to hide your face in your hands. It’s bad. Really bad.

Claude’s laughter was light and airy, and despite your mood, something inside warmed at the heartfelt joy in his tone.

“This is all your fault.” You mumbled.

“Perhaps.” he allowed with a grin, bright eyes sparkling. “I’ve mixed something to help with your headache, it’s bitter but it should do the trick.” He placed a small vial on your table.

“You did well my friend. Rest up, I will deflect the others from disturbing you for today.” He patted your shoulder and avoided your halfhearted swipe with a smile before pushing outside your tent. You had two seconds to catch sight of all of your ex-students crowded around the entrance before the tent flap fell behind him, muting the excited gossip that grew in volume at Claude’s reappearance.

You sighed against your hands, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole. The mess of feelings in your chest was no closer to being solved, in fact it’s getting more and more complicated by the day. For a moment, you swore the ring Jeralt left you grew warm in your pocket.

[three-houses-text-files]

byleth/dimitri

c-s support + paired ending + night of the ball

Dimitri: Thank you for your help the other day, Professor. Please, allow me to express my gratitude by taking you to dinner.

>It was nothing.

D: Nonsense. Your guidance was magnificent. Just what I'd expect from a professor at this esteemed academy.

>I would be delighted.

D: Fantastic. Please think about what you'd like to eat. After all, such magnificent guidance must work up quite an appetite.

D: I've studied swordsmanship for some time, but your mercenary skills are something else entirely. D: Speaking of which, there's...another question I must ask you. D: Were you reconciled with the reality of battle from your first foray? With...the killing part, I mean.

>I hadn't the luxury of questioning it.

>No. It's never easy.

I see.

>And you?

D: No... I do not carry that burden well. I doubt that will change, no matter how many years come and go. D: The first time I led on the battlefield, I was sent to quell a rebellion in the west. D: It was not a difficult fight. The enemy was not well-trained and their morale was low. D: A swing of the lance, and your opponent falls. A flash of your blade, and a path opens up. That's the sort of battle it was. Easy...right?

>You did what you had to do.

D: That's one way to look at it.

>What caused the rebellion?

D: The noble family from that area sought to seize the throne after my father's untimely death. D: The leader of the rebel army was defeated and the rebellion quelled. This was at the height of the post-war period. D: I recall coming across a dead soldier's body. He was clutching a locket. Inside was a lock of golden hair. D: I don't know to whom it belonged. His wife, his daughter...mother, lover... I'll never know. D: He was a soldier. An enemy. Someone we had cut down without hesitation. D: But in that moment, I realized he was also a real person, just like the rest of us. D: Of course, we cannot stand idly by and allow anyone to commit senseless acts of violence. D: Yet in dispensing what we call justice, we take the lives of cherished family members. Beloved friends. D: Killing is part of the job, but even so... There are times when I'm chilled to the bone by the depravity of my own actions.

>It's normal to feel that way.

D: Is it? Perhaps you're right. I pray that you are.

>I've felt the same way.

D: That you feel the same way is more comforting than you could know.

D: Professor? May I speak freely? D: When we first met, I thought of you as someone who felt no strong feelings about killing your enemies. D: I could never trust someone who kills without batting an eye. My heart won't allow it. D: But after speaking with you and getting to know you better, I can see you're not like that. D: Now I know, with all my heart, that I can trust you. Thank you for that.

——————————————————————————————

b

D: Perfect timing, Professor. If you don't mind, I have a favor I'd like to ask of you.

>What's the favor?

D: It's in regard to sword training. Not for myself, but... Well... D: To be honest, I've been teaching swordsmanship to the orphans at the monastery for a while now.

>How unexpected.

D: I must agree. Frankly, I'm not great with children.

>How did that come to be?

D: Some of them saw me sparring with the knights one day. D: They started pestering me to teach them. They were so earnest... I couldn't help but oblige. D: There's much I wish to show them, but due to my own studies and training, I'm afraid my time is rather limited. D: Which brings me to my favor. Your swordsmanship is unmatched. I hate to ask this of you, but... Would you consider lending me a hand?

>You can count on me.

>You leave me no choice.

D: Thank you, truly. I am in your debt. And I always repay my debts, I'll have you know. D: All of these children lost their families and homes to war or illness. This may sound a bit arrogant, but...I feel it's my responsibility to help them. D: I lost my parents without warning too. In that way, we're the same. D: In Duscur, I lost my father, stepmother, and closest friends. I didn't have many allies at the castle after that. D: In truth, I had only Dedue for companionship.

>Have you no other family?

D: I'm afraid not. My birth mother fell ill and died shortly after I was born. And my uncle... suffice to say we don't get along.

>Is there no one else you can trust?

D: I once had people I could confide in. Family, friends, instructors, even the royal soldiers.

D: But they were all taken away from me four years ago. D: Ah, but there were those outside the castle walls I was close to. Such as Rodrigue!

>Rodrigue?

D: Heh, pardon my rudeness. I meant Lord Rodrigue. He is my father's old companion, and the father of Felix. D: On the occasions he would visit the capital, he'd take me out hunting or on long horse rides. D: While Dedue is like a brother to me, Rodrigue is more like a second father. D: It might sound ridiculous, but...he's the kind of man I hope to become one day. D: Someone who helps others... Someone who can reach out and save a lost soul. D: Oh... Please accept my apologies for boring you with my life story. D: In any case, don't forget your promise, Professor. I'm counting on you.

——————————————————————————————

a

D: …

>What are you doing?

D: Sleep evades me, so I thought I'd get in some extra training. I was just about to finish.

>Still training?

D: Indeed. But I was thinking about ending it here.

D: Perhaps it is the gloomy weather, but I am feeling the sting of wounds that should have healed long ago...

>What wounds?

D: The injury I got when that girl stabbed me after the battle at Gronder. D: Her eyes were filled with revenge...just as mine once were.

>Who was she?

D: I don't know... But I have a guess.

>...

D: Ah, I suppose I haven't told you about that yet.

>What are you talking about?

D: I was attacked inside the monastery the other day. It caused quite the uproar. D: The ones who attacked me...were some of the youths we taught swordsmanship to, once upon a time.

>Are you OK?

D: Of course. I could capture the lot of them with my eyes closed.

>Why did they do it?

D: It seems they were raised by a group of thieves who we put down five years ago. D: I heard Lady Rhea took custody of them, claiming that the children were innocent. D: I have taken so many lives...and with each one, I face hatred. D: During the last five years especially. My life was not so different from that of a wild beast... D: And that young girl's brother... At some point, I must have... D: That is why I thought it only natural that someone would retaliate someday. D: Because I hated, because I stole, and...because I killed. D: But with those children, it's different... We drew our blades with the best of intentions, only to hurt them in the end.

>I suppose this is yet another thing we will just have to live with.

D: I feel the same way.

>It's part of the job.

D: Yes...

D: As one who chose to fight, it is my responsibility to confront this anguish and the true nature of war... D: Until the day my life comes to an end.

>It is mine as well.

D: Perhaps...

>We can confront it together.

D: Thank you...

D: You know, Professor... There is something that I only recently realized. D: I never knew it could be so...comforting to have someone standing by my side...

——————————————————————————————

s

D: Come now, my friend. You must stop staying up so late. Tomorrow is yet another early morning. D: Then again, I know that matters little. You cannot sleep, can you? Neither can I, of course. D: I... I want you to know I am sorry for making you do so much when your battle wounds aren't even completely healed yet.

>And what of yours?

D: Do not worry about me... My shoulder has healed nicely. I still have some numbness in my hand, but it should not hinder me too much.

>It's awful.

D: Well, I am truly sorry. I only ask that you do not overexert yourself.

D: But I am afraid our burdens will only grow in number. I hope you are prepared for that.

>...

D: It is a lovely night... Is it not? D: How many years has it been since I was kept awake by hopes for the future, rather than by nightmares of the past...

>Nightmares?

D: I have had the same nightmare for nine long years. A nightmare in which I am constantly tormented by those who have died... D: They ask me why I have not avenged them... Why I got to live, yet they had to die... D: No matter how many corpses I piled up for them, in the end, their voices only grew louder. D: Voices loathing me, calling out to me... Their inescapable death cries ringing in my ears...clinging to my soul... D: Even now, I can always hear them. I am certain I will be hearing them until the day I die. D: But I will not cover my ears. I will go on living...and their voices will serve as a warning. D: As a king...and as a wretch who claimed countless lives...I will build a Kingdom where the people can live in peace. D: I am sure she would laugh and call such talk foolish... But I wish to change this world in my own way. D: Well, Your Grace, things will be busy from now on. Our first order of business is tomorrow's coronation. D: Once a professor and student... Now an archbishop and a king. How very far we have come.

>We're still the same.

>Only our titles have changed.

D: That is true. To me, you will always be the one who guided me so kindly. My ally through all. My beloved... D: Yes...my beloved.

>Dimitri...

D: Listen... There is something I wish to give you before the coronation. Give me your hand. D: ... D: Please... I beg of you. Say something! D: If you do not wish to accept it, please just tell me. If so, I will face the truth and walk away.

>That's not it at all...

D: What is this?

>I love you, Dimitri. Marry me.

D: You beat me to it... D: ... D: Yes, I see. Right. In that case, let us exchange them, shall we? D: Your hands... Now that I hold them within my own, I see how small and fragile they are. D: These hands that have saved me countless times... Thank you, my beloved. D: Your kind, warm hands... May they cling to my own forevermore...

——————————————————————————————

paired ending

Paired with the end of the war, the joyous marriage of Byleth, the newly-appointed archbishop, and Dimitri, the newly-crowned king of Faerghus, gave the people of Fódlan much to celebrate. The two were devoted to improving life for the people and to seeking greater wisdom in order to reform the government and the church from the inside out. As leaders of church and state respectively, at times they engaged in heated debate. Even still, when enjoying a long horse ride or a quiet evening, they were not as the world saw them, but rather two adoring spouses, desperately in love. They remained as such for the rest of their days.

——————————————————————————————

night of the ball

D: It’s quiet here, isn't it, Professor? D: That reminds me. Do you know the legend associated with the Goddess Tower?

>I've heard it.

D: Is that right? You don't strike me as the sort to enjoy stories like that.

>I'm not concerned with such things.

D: Just as expected.

D: They say that wishes made in this tower will come true. I wonder who came up with such a silly notion.

>You don't believe it?

D: Legends are legends, nothing more. I doubt there are many who really believe that wishes can be granted. D: The goddess just watches over us from above... That is all. D: No matter how hard someone begs to be saved, she would never so much as offer her hand. D: And even if she did, we lack the means to reach out and grasp it. D: That's how I feel about her. D: In any case... I suppose there's no harm in passing the time with silly legends. What do you say, Professor? Care to make a wish? D: We are here on the night of the ball. Why don't you try wishing for something?

>After you.

>I can't think of anything, so go ahead.

D: A wish of my own... D: I suppose my wish...is for a world in which no one would ever be unjustly taken from us. Or...something along those lines.

>That's a great wish.

>I'll wish for the same.

D: Thank you, Professor. Although, at a time like this... D: Perhaps it would make more sense for me to wish that we'll be together forever. What do you think?

>...

D: ... D: Haha! Well now, Professor! You must admit I've improved in the art of joke telling.

>That's cruel.

D: I'm sorry... I guess that was rather thoughtless of me.

>It didn't sound like a joke.

D: ...

D: Honestly... I do regret saying such a thing. Please think nothing of it. D: I've blurted out irresponsible things like that to my classmates. Promises that we'll see each other again and the like. D: I have no business making such promises for the future. D: There are certain things that I must accomplish, even if it means risking my life. I may not even have a future to promise to someone. D: ... D: We should head back soon. D: It's rude of me to keep you all to myself. D: Shall we, Professor?

[fftwister]

Byleth/Dimitri C-S Support

I went to bed after posting the Byleth/Claude support chain, so I don’t know if other supports are online or not. However, a few folks requested Dimitri and Byleth’s support chain, so here it is for clarity’s sake. Major spoilers below regarding what Dimitri’s deal is (+general BL route and Byleth spoilers). Be wary, this too gets really fucking long.

Dimitri: Perfect timing, Professor. If you don't mind, I have a favor I'd like to ask of you. Byleth: What's the favor? Dimitri: It's in regard to sword training. Not for myself, but... Well... To be honest, I've been teaching swordsmanship to the orphans at the monastery for a while now. Dialogue Tree:

A: How unexpected. B: How did that come to be? Dimitri: (A) I must agree. Frankly, I'm not great with children. (B): Some of them saw me sparring with the knights one day. They started pestering me to teach them. They were so earnest... I couldn't help but oblige. There's much I wish to show them, but due to my own studies and training, I'm afraid my time is rather limited. Which brings me to my favor. Your swordsmanship is unmatched. I hate to ask this of you, but...Would you consider lending me a hand? Dialogue Tree:

A: You can count on me. B: You leave me no choice. Dimitri: Thank you, truly. I am in your debt. And I always repay my debts, I'll have you know. All of these children lost their families and homes to war or illness. This may sound a bit arrogant, but...I feel it's my responsibility to help them. I lost my parents without warning too. In that way, we're the same. In Duscur, I lost my father, stepmother, and closest friends. I didn't have many allies at the castle after that. In truth, I had only Dedue for companionship. Dialogue Tree:

A: Have you no other family? B: Is there no one else you can trust? Dimitri: I'm afraid not. My birth mother fell ill and died shortly after I was born. And my uncle...suffice to say we don't get along. I once had people I could confide in. Family, friends, instructors, even the royal soldiers. But they were all taken away from me four years ago. Ah, but there were those outside the castle walls\nI was close to. Such as Rodrigue! Byleth: Rodrigue? Dimitri: Heh, pardon my rudeness. I meant Lord Rodrigue. He is my father's old companion, and the father\nof Felix. On the occasions he would visit the capital, he'd take me out hunting or on long horse rides. While Dedue is like a brother to me, Rodrigue is more like a second father. It might sound ridiculous, but...he's the kind of man I hope to become one day. Someone who helps others... Someone who can reach out and save a lost soul. Oh... Please accept my apologies for boring you with my life story. In any case, don't forget your promise, Professor. I'm counting on you.

B Support

Dimitri: Thank you for your help the other day, Professor. Please, allow me to express my gratitude by taking you to dinner. Dialogue Tree:

A: It was nothing. B: I would be delighted. Dimitri (A): Nonsense. Your guidance was magnificent. Just what I'd expect from a professor at this esteemed academy. (B): Fantastic. Please think about what you'd like to eat. After all, such magnificent guidance must work up quite an appetite. I've studied swordsmanship for some time, but your mercenary skills are something else entirely. Speaking of which, there's...another question I must ask you. Were you reconciled with the reality of battle from your first foray? With...the killing part, I mean. Dialogue Tree:

A: I hadn't the luxury of questioning it. B: No. It's never easy. Dimitri: I see. Byleth: And you? Dimitri: No... I do not carry that burden well. I doubt that will change, no matter how many years come and go. The first time I led on the battlefield, I was sent to quell a rebellion in the west. It was not a difficult fight. The enemy was not well-trained and their morale was low. A swing of the lance, and your opponent falls. A flash of your blade, and a path opens up. That's the sort of battle it was. Easy...right? Dialogue Tree:

A: You did what you had to do. B: What caused the rebellion? Dimitri (A): That's one way to look at it. (B): The noble family from that area sought to seize the throne after my father's untimely death. The leader of the rebel army was defeated and the rebellion quelled. This was at the height of the post-war period. I recall coming across a dead soldier's body. He was clutching a locket. Inside was a lock of golden hair. I don't know to whom it belonged. His wife, his daughter...mother, lover... I'll never know. He was a soldier. An enemy. Someone we had cut down without hesitation. But in that moment, I realized he was also a real person, just like the rest of us. Of course, we cannot stand idly by and allow anyone to commit senseless acts of violence. Yet in dispensing what we call justice, we take the lives of cherished family members. Beloved friends. Killing is part of the job, but even so... There are times when I'm chilled to the bone by the depravity of my own actions. Dialogue Tree:

A: It's normal to feel that way. B: I've felt the same way. Dimitri (A): Is it? Perhaps you're right. I pray that you are. (B): That you feel the same way is more comforting than you could know. Professor? May I speak freely? When we first met, I thought of you as someone who felt no strong feelings about killing your enemies. I could never trust someone who kills without batting an eye. My heart won't allow it. But after speaking with you and getting to know you better, I can see you're not like that. Now I know, with all my heart, that I can trust you. Thank you for that.

A Support

Dimitri: ... Dialogue Tree:

A: What are you doing? B: Still training? Dimitri (A): Sleep evades me, so I thought I'd get in some extra training. I was just about to finish. (B): Indeed. But I was thinking about ending it here. Perhaps it is the gloomy weather, but I am feeling the sting of wounds that should have healed long ago... Byleth: What wounds? Dimitri: The injury I got when that girl stabbed me after the battle at Gronder. Her eyes were filled with revenge...just as mine once were. Byleth: Who was she? Dimitri: I don't know... But I have a guess. ... Ah, I suppose I haven't told you about that yet. Byleth: What are you talking about? Dimitri: I was attacked inside the monastery the other day. It caused quite the uproar. The ones who attacked me...were some of the youths we taught swordsmanship to, once upon a time. Dialogue Tree:

A: Are you OK? B: Why did they do it? Dimitri (A): Of course. I could capture the lot of them with my eyes closed. (B): It seems they were raised by a group of thieves who we put down five years ago. I heard Lady Rhea took custody of them, claiming that the children were innocent. I have taken so many lives...and with each one, I face hatred. During the last five years especially. My life was not so different from that of a wild beast... And that young girl's brother... At some point, I must have... That is why I thought it only natural that someone would retaliate someday. Because I hated, because I stole, and...because I killed. But with those children, it's different... We drew our blades with the best of intentions, only to hurt them in the end. I suppose this is yet another thing we will just have to live with. Dialogue Tree:

A: It's part of the job. B: I feel the same way. Dimitri: Yes... As one who chose to fight, it is my responsibility to confront this anguish and the true nature of war... Until the day my life comes to an end. Dialogue Tree:

A: It is mine as well. B: We can confront it together. Dimitri (A): Perhaps... (B): Thank you... You know, Professor... There is something that I only recently realized. I never knew it could be so...comforting to have someone standing by my side...

S Support

Dimitri: Come now, my friend. You must stop staying up so late. Tomorrow is yet another early morning. Then again, I know that matters little. You cannot sleep, can you? Neither can I, of course. I... I want you to know I am sorry for making you do so much when your battle wounds aren't even completely healed yet. Dialogue Tree:

A: And what of yours? B: It's awful. Dimitri (A): Do not worry about me... My shoulder has healed nicely. I still have some numbness in my hand, but it should not hinder me too much. (B): Well, I am truly sorry. I only ask that you do not overexert yourself. But I am afraid our burdens will only grow in number. I hope you are prepared for that. ... It is a lovely night... Is it not? How many years has it been since I was kept awake by hopes for the future, rather than by nightmares of the past... Byleth: Nightmares? Dimitri: I have had the same nightmare for nine long years. A nightmare in which I am constantly tormented by those who have died... They ask me why I have not avenged them...Why I got to live, yet they had to die... No matter how many corpses I piled up for them, in the end, their voices only grew louder. Voices loathing me, calling out to me...Their inescapable death cries ringing in my ears...clinging to my soul... Even now, I can always hear them. I am certain I will be hearing them until the day I die. But I will not cover my ears. I will go on living...and their voices will serve as a warning. As a king...and as a wretch who claimed countless lives...I will build a Kingdom where the people can live in peace. I am sure she would laugh and call such talk foolish... But I wish to change this world in my own way. Well, Your Grace, things will be busy from now on. Our first order of business is tomorrow's coronation. Once a professor and student... Now an archbishop and a king. How very far we have come. Dialogue Tree:

A: We're still the same. B: Only our titles have changed. Dimitri: That is true. To me, you will always be the one who guided me so kindly. My ally through all. My beloved... Dialogue Tree:

A: Yes...my beloved. B: Dimitri... Dimitri: Listen... There is something I wish to give you before the coronation. Give me your hand. Byleth: ... Dimitri: Please... I beg of you. Say something! If you do not wish to accept it, please just tell me.If so, I will face the truth and walk away. Dialogue Tree(? There’s a lot of responses here, I don’t know who says what)

A: That's not it at all... B: What is this? C: I love you, Dimitri. Marry me. D: You beat me to it... Dimitri: ... Yes, I see. Right. In that case, let us exchange them, shall we? Your hands... Now that I hold them within my own, I see how small and fragile they are. These hands that have saved me countless times...Thank you, my beloved. Your kind, warm hands... May they cling to my own forevermore...

*Note

Checking through the zip file, Dimitri doesn’t have a final bit of dialogue with Byleth like Claude does in his ending, as the next text file after the S support is his dialogue for a moment after the ballroom dance, and the following files being Claude’s supports. It’s possible the dialogue might be in the ZIP, but I don’t know for sure.

[rebellingstagnationblog]

2019 Geronimo Christmas Fics

That’s right, we’re doing it again! 25 new Geronimo fics published December 1-25.

The title? “That’s Christmas to Me”

The playlist? All Pentatonix songs

The theme? Well, why don’t you see for yourself? Here’s a first look at day 1

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

[[MORE]]

This world was dark, even for her tastes.

Physically, that was.

She could not yet speak for the metaphorical; she had only just arrived, after all, and rumors were nothing to base one’s perceptions on.

Searchlights were the primary source of light, their long beams stretching up into the dark sky, making a long sweep from one end of the metropolis to the other. If there was a moon or stars, she couldn’t tell. The searchlights were too bright to allow anything in the vast vacuum of space to shine down onto the world below.

Her boots crunched on the newly fallen snow, a satisfying snap snap snap as she made her way down the street. There was no question as to the direction she was headed. The building in the center of town was the one to which the searchlights were fixed, giving off its position with all the finesse of a disco ball.

Darkwarrior Duck might be the most fearsome of all the Darkwings in the multiverse, but he still had the same ego. The same lack of sense when it came to anything involving stealth or sophistication.

At least there was order here. Her simmering irritation was soothed at seeing how precisely the citizens moved about. Crossed the street at crosswalks. Cars merged with clear signals for at least 300 feet before changing lanes. Everyone stuck to their side of the sidewalk, eyes forward without any sort of technology out to distract them.

It was because of this — this enforcement of rules and regulations — that she was walking down this sidewalk to begin with.

She crossed the street with a few citizens and continued marching toward the building that set her teeth on edge. On her own. No one else was heading anywhere close to this part of town.

Dark ebony robots, the shapes of which resembled Darkwarrior’s head with claws extending out below their beaks hovered before her. What a terrible design. Their only option for movement was strictly airborn since they had no legs. And it seemed rather arrogant to shape something after one's own features.

Then again.

Look at their designer.

“Identification, please,” came the modulated voice. Weak and wavering compared to those in her own world.

She stared unblinkingly at the robot. “Ana Di Lengo.”

The robot hovered, bobbing up and down gently, completely silent for a few moments. “Error. Death records exist for one Ana Di Lengo. Identification, please.”

She sent the bot — and whoever was watching through it's cameras — a thin smile. “Death records exist for the Ana in this universe perhaps. I, however, am not from here.”

The robot fell into silence again. And moved aside as the door behind it swung open.

Complete blackness yawned before her, the building imposing and endless. She stepped through without a moments hesitation.

It was all for show, this grandiose structure. The security out front meant to intimidate the visitor and give them some idea of who they were about to deal with.

But Ana was not intimidated.

The blackness inside was not so complete that she couldn't see where she was going. The lobby was empty, a colossal curved staircase curling upwards that took her to the second level. Into a rounded antechamber, which also was empty.

The walls were fitted with large panels of glass, windows revealing the sprawling city around them. Pale snow blanketed the streets and buildings, dulling the lights that tried their best to illuminate the darkness. In the center of this rounded chamber was a circular platform, along one side of which were stacked rows of computer monitors like bricks in the facade of a building. They showed the city from different angles, some stationary shots evidently from fixed cameras and others moving, likely from robots on patrol, sending back their feed.

Within this half-circle of monitors sat one solitary chair. Padded. With low arms and a wide back. Almost wide enough to obscure the figure that was sitting in it. Almost.

The room was not so empty after all.

The chair was facing away from her. But she didn't need to see his face to know who was lying in wait.

“You're very far from home,” came a purr out of the darkness.

Ana came to stand at the edge of the platform, hands tucked behind her back and head held high. “Turn around and face me, Drake. Where are your manners?”

The figure stiffened either at her tone or at the casual name she called him. Whichever the reason, Ana felt her beak twist into a triumphant smirk.

She allowed it to fall as the chair swiveled around. No need to show off.

Within the plush upholstery sat a familiar figure. Wearing the ridiculous purple outfit with a large brimmed fedora in a matching shade. He had foregone the button down suit and substituted it with something akin to a jumpsuit that was belted at the hips. Military grade boots — steel toed by the looks of them — would have blended into the darkness if they hadn't been polished to a shine. The infantile cape was secured around his shoulders, tucked underneath sizable spiked shoulder armor, making him all the more imposing and broad.

There was still a mask secured around his face, but his eyes glowed red. It was into these that Ana stared, unabashed and unafraid.

As Darkwarrior Duck sized her up.

She in her own black uniform. Much crisper and more impressive than his spiked armor. Drake was many things; subtle was not one of them, no matter the universe.

“Are we going to discuss why you're here? Or is this a staring contest?” he asked, his voice carefully controlled and giving away nothing. She was almost impressed. Almost.

“Don’t joke with me, boy,” Ana snapped. “You can guess why I'm here, surely.”

Darkwarrior leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in his militaristic gloves. “It must be something big if the great Ana Di Lengo traveled all the way from the Posiverse to visit me.”

“Oh, yes, bravo,” Ana intoned, glaring at Darkwarrior down her beak. “Come, come, Drake. If we are to be allies, I must be able to trust that you can put two and two together on your own.”

He frowned. “My name is Darkwarrior.”

Ana narrowed her eyes a fraction. “Not to me.”

Darkwarrior eyed her.

She let the silence linger.

Silence is a funny thing. Everyone is quick to break it. It makes people uncomfortable, you see. The lack of noise makes them believe they need to be filling the void with something. If you stay quiet long enough, your counterpart will inevitably start talking.

“Allies, you and I?” Darkwarrior asked. “Against whom?”

Case in point.

Silence: a leader’s most effective tool.

“Against the monstrosity that is Gosalyn Mallard Prime.” Saying the name was like a bad taste on her tongue. Gosalyn Mallard had come into Ana’s world to be put on trial and punished for her rash actions of traveling around the multiverse. She had not only escaped her lifelong sentence, but had incentivized the people of Ana’s world — the Posiverse — to uprise and fight against the rules that had been put in place to protect them. Even Ana’s second in command, her own son, had gone against her and joined ranks with the Gosalyn from their own world.

Gosalyn Mallard Prime had ruined everything.

And Ana would show that girl the justice that was in the wake of such haphazard and reckless rule breaking.

Ana took a breath.

Patience.

All in good time.

Darkwarrior raised an eyebrow, still peering over his steepled fingers. “She has a big support system. To go against her is to go against them all.”

“Hence why I am here.”

Smirking, Darkwarrior leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You need me.”

“And your robots. When going up against repeat rule breakers, it's best to come prepared with the full force of the law.”

Darkwarrior Duck was grinning fully now, a cunning curl of his beak.

Another voice, however, came from the darkness. A slighter sound, weaker. “We can offer our full forces.”

Ana glanced to where the voice had come from and felt her fingers twitch at the sight, ready to grab a weapon. But she stayed her hand.

It was another Gosalyn. This one brown haired and softer. More reserved. She seemed to have some semblance of rules and etiquette, her hands hanging at her sides and her expression one of respect as she surveyed Ana with her green eyes.

Ana pushed aside her confusion — the entire point of the Darkwarrior universe was that a Gosalyn didn’t exist, after all, so how one could be here was mind numbing — and inclined her head. “Together, I am confident that we can accomplish our goal.”

“No violence,” this brown-haired Gosalyn said as she stepped fully out of the shadows and stood beside Darkwarrior.

Ana studied them together, the dark uncompromising version of her son and this girl who shouldn’t exist. Really, neither of them should exist. This universe was a blight on an otherwise perfect system.

But, desperate times.

Ana bowed her head. “No violence,” she echoed.

The brown haired Gosalyn nodded. “Then we will help you bring order to the Prime Universe.”

Ana sent a thin smile to the girl. “Might I ask who you are?”

“Christine.”

Still a Gosalyn, but going by a different name. Interesting. Ana would need to study her records to find out where this one had come from, for it surely wasn’t here. Could not be here.

“You have a bright future ahead of you, my dear.” Ana looked between the two. “Shall we settle on a date?”

Darkwarrior finally stood, gesturing off to the side. “We can use my consulting room.”

“There’s less potential of being overheard in there,” Christine offered, a smile gracing her beak as she led the way.

Ana nodded once in agreement before following the impossible girl.

P.S. Since I’m not taking requests for stories/songs this year for the main story, I will happily take holiday related requests from people if they’re interested. DM me so we can talk more!

[lady-divine-writes]

Coldflash - “Far from Helpful” (Rated PG13)

After a blast meant for Leonard Snart knocks Barry out cold and wipes his memory, Len follows the team back to STAR Labs to make sure he's alright. Of course, not being entirely welcome, he has to sneak in. But after one small slip of the tongue, Len might find himself watching over Barry permanently. (2359 words)

Written for @sparroet

Notes:  This is the first iteration of the story I wrote for @coldflashweeks Valentine’s exchange 2019 prompt - Barry suffers a permanent injury that affects his work as Flash and Len helps him to work out where to go next. Warning for a serious injury involving blood.

Read on AO3.

“Hey, Red. I’m telling ya, we have to stop meeting like this,” Len says in a low voice, gruff from barking orders that didn’t matter worth dick since no one listened to him anyway. If they had, maybe Barry wouldn’t be lying on a gurney down in the med center of STAR Labs, slipping in and out of consciousness.

Maybe he wouldn’t have had the ever-loving shit beat out of him … again. Even the fights Barry does win usually end up with him getting bashed in the head or kicked in the stomach.

Just because he has the power to super heal doesn’t erase the fact that Barry Allen gets beat up a lot.

Len is also a bit worse for the wear – a gash on his right cheek that might require stitches, a blackened left eye, an arm he’d thought was broken wrapped tight in an ACE bandage. But that’s nothing compared to what happened to Barry – slammed in the gut by a high-intensity photon blast that was meant for Len and thrown over two hundred feet straight up. Had Barry come back down the way he went, Len might have been able to break his fall, plus his whole body in the process. But Barry had traveled, and Len abandoned the fight, abandoned his team, to go on the search. Halfway out of town, Len found Barry skewered on an iron fence post, the spear-like tip protruding from his chest and covered in blood. When Len saw him - bent impossibly backward with arms and legs limp - his heart stopped.

He thought his boy was dead this time for sure.

Then along came Cisco and Caitlin, and boy, do they have a convenient sense of timing. They had nothing to do with Len finding Barry, but they sure did rush in and scoop him up as if he was theirs and theirs alone. They barely gave Len a thank you, barely looked him in the eyes.

When it comes to him, Len has discovered, even when he’s fighting on their side, they don’t consider him on their side.

Perhaps that’s the way it should stay.

Caitlin did take a second to check out Len’s arm and wrap it up, but that was a consolation prize. A token.

The literal least they could do.

But it was also a message. In their eyes, it made them square. Now Len’s job was over, and it would be best for everyone if he stepped back and left Barry alone.

Right. Like that was going to happen.

Caitlin and Cisco packed Barry up in their ‘Flash-mobile’ and left Len alone out in the middle of nowhere, probably all sorts of assured that he wouldn’t make it back to STAR Labs anytime soon.

And, as usual, they were wrong.

Not only was he fifteen minutes behind them the whole time thanks to his newest acquisition – a beat-up old Indian motorcycle he’d spied quietly rusting in an otherwise vacant driveway on his way out of town – but he’d managed to let himself into STAR Labs super slick and steal away into Barry’s room the second the Wonder Twins ducked out. Sure they’ll be watching Barry like a hawk so of course they’ll find him, but now that he’s in, he’d like to see them try and kick him out.

Len gives Barry a once over, head shaking with disgust and disappointment.

And guilt.

Barry looks okay. Aside from a few scratches, he’s the same as always … on the outside. From what Len could make out while Caitlin and Cisco were talking, the blast scrambled Barry’s brain like an omelet, hence his constant waking up and knocking out. From the times they were able to talk to him, Barry didn’t know his name, didn’t know where he was, who they were, or that he was The Flash. They hooked him up to a dozen or so machines monitoring his brain waves, his temporal lobes and whatnot, but when he finally comes to for longer than a minute, they have no idea what he’ll remember.

Or if the memories he’s lost will ever come back.

They also can’t tell with absolute certainty if Barry is still a meta. The blast doesn’t appear to have eliminated his power to heal, but it slowed it to a crawl. Hence why he’s down here while the net that is the Speed Force sews him back together, albeit at an infuriating rate.

And why it hasn’t worked on his brain? That’s another mystery altogether.

Len moves sections of Barry’s blankets aside to assess the damage for himself. Large hematomas mar Barry’s skin like a battle-scarred landscape. Len’s gaze falls on the blood-stained bandages covering the hole in Barry’s chest and sucks a breath in through his teeth. By rights, any man who sustained an injury like that should be dead. Since that blast was aimed at Len, that means he should be dead right now – dead and gone while a still young and vibrant Barry Allen mourns for all of fifteen minutes the twisted, dysfunctional non-relationship they have, one where Barry constantly reminds Len that there’s good in him as if that means something, and Len spends his nights seething because the good Len wants inside of him is Barry.

“Jesus Christ, you know, you gotta stop taking the blows that I’m supposed to take. When it’s my time, it’s my time. Nothing you can do is going to change that, Red, no matter how good you think I am.”

“Wh-why … do you keep calling me … Red?” a gravelly voice struggles with as Barry turns his head to look Len’s way.

Len shrugs, taking a seat in the chair beside Barry so he won’t have to move anymore. “It’s just a nickname I have for you. That’s all.”

Barry relaxes back into his pillow now that the object of his attention has conveniently moved into view. Eyelids narrowed, he stares at Len, soaking in the particulars of the man in front of him. “Who ... who are you?”

“Who do you think I am?”

“I … I don’t know, but … you seem so familiar.”

“I should. I’m your husband,” Len teases without thinking, sarcasm stepping in when the alternative means revealing too much at an inconvenient time. Why not? It breaks the tension. Barry is more than likely not going to remember this conversation. Besides, Len is dying to see the look on the kid’s face as he tries to comprehend that this tired, filthy, broken old man is his spouse.

And Barry doesn’t disappoint. His head jerks back a hair. His eyes widen. His jaw works around wordless questions.

In short, he looks thoroughly confused by life.

“You … you are?”

“Yup.”

“But … but the doctors that were in here … they didn’t tell me.”

Len pats Barry’s hand. “They don’t like me. I sometimes think they’d like to forget I exist.”

“Oh …” Barry’s eyes dart back and forth, scanning his brain for any nugget of a sliver of a memory of him being married to the man sitting in the chair next to him. Several long seconds tick by. Len watches Barry’s face with an intense curiosity and mild amusement, waiting for his inevitable surrender back into unconsciousness that will herald the end of this charade. Then Len will sit and guard over Barry for as long as he can before his obnoxious wardens return. But Barry doesn’t surrender to sleep. He smiles, an unexpected realization overwhelming him that adds color to his pale cheeks and light to his blank-slate eyes. “Oh … my God! We’re … we’re married?” Barry laughs before Len has a chance to answer. “Wh-what … what lottery did I win to get you?”

A vision of the fight they were in not two hours ago rolls through Len’s brain, how Barry got hit, then flew so hard he blinked out of sight like a cartoon character.

“Let’s just say I swept you off your feet.”

“I thought … I thought it was a dream …” Barry continues. “I didn’t think it could be real.”

Len chuckles, assuming Barry is thinking of that same take-off moment, until he keeps going.

And then Len’s heart stops a second, longer time.

“We met in a theater … didn’t we?”

“I guess you can say that.”

“We had a wedding on the beach … and our honeymoon … camping at the Grand Canyon …” A spark twinkles in Barry’s eyes that Len has never seen. It’s not the lightning that lives inside him, that erupts to mirror his emotions. It’s different – just as supernatural, but more inexplicable. It sends chills down Len’s spine, and that’s something that doesn’t happen too often.

“Ho---honeymoon?” Len’s legs go numb. He turns at the waist, looking for a place to sit until it dawns on him that he’s sitting already.

“Yeah.” Barry’s smile grows and takes a bashful twist. “You and me in a two-person tent on the South Rim, drinking champagne and watching the sun set …”

Voices echo in the hallway. Urgent voices. More than just Cisco and Caitlin. It sounds like Joe might be with them, along with a few other members of the CCPD. Len doesn’t hear what they say, but he has his suspicions that they’re talking about him.

“Shoot!” Len hisses, wishing the oncoming invasion could take a powder for about five minutes so that Barry can finish telling him about that honeymoon. From the shade of red Barry’s cheeks have become, it must have been good. But it would probably be a good idea if he retreats to his favorite air vent for the time being. “Look, kid, I’m going to have to …” He springs out of his seat but Barry grabs his hand with a speed that confirms that yes, he definitely still is a meta.

“Wait, what are you doing? Where are you going?”

“I need to bow out for a minute. But don’t worry. I won’t go too far.”

“Go? What … no! Don’t … don’t leave! Please?”

The voices become louder, accompanied by hurried footsteps, and Len curses under his breath. Before this little adventure began, weren’t they all allies? On a temporary basis, but playing on the same team? “Barry, I’m sorry, but I have to.”

“Why!?”

Len looks into Barry’s pleading eyes and sighs. Yup, leave it to him to take a joke too far, and now here he is - married to The Flash and sixty seconds away from being locked behind bars.

“Remember those doctors I said don’t like me?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, they’re coming back, and from the sounds of it, they’re bringing the police.”

“But, why does that matter?” Barry scans the room, searching frantically for help. “You’re ... you’re my husband!”

“They may not see it that way.”

“I’ll make them see! Just … wait here and we’ll get this straightened out. Please? Please stay?”

Len opens his mouth, but even though he has to, he can’t say no. He shakes his head, taking a step away, and Barry goes into full blown panic mode.

“They said I could have whatever I wanted! Have whoever I want in here with me! Whatever would make me comfortable! If you’re my husband, then I want you! We’ll tell them that I’m … I’m not staying here without you! I’ll … I’ll get up and leave!” Barry plants his hands on the mattress pad beneath him and tries to sit up. “I swear!”

“Shhh, easy now, kid. Don’t get carried away.” Len puts his hands on Barry’s shoulders and in an instance feels him relax, which makes Len want to punch himself in the throat. He did this – him and his frickin’ inability to not make a joke out of everything. Maybe he and Barry don’t always meet on the same side of the law, but he’d never want anything bad for Barry.

Which is why he keeps his distance on the day to day. If Leonard Snart is anything, he’s bad for Barry.

But for some reason, Barry seems to believe wholeheartedly that he’s married to Leonard Snart. And not just believes it, but has memories of it. But where those memories came from, Len doesn’t know. He didn’t say enough to plant any subliminal thoughts in Barry’s mind, nothing as detailed as a wedding on the beach, or a honeymoon. Where did that all come from? Could it be a side-effect of the memory wipe? Cisco specifically said ‘scrambled Barry’s brains like an omelet’. Those were his exact words. Barry’s mind manufacturing a wedding that never happened sounds like the kind of thing a scrambled brain might do.

Or is there a chance that those thoughts were there in Barry’s mind already? Fantasies hidden that the accident unlocked?

Does Barry, on some level, have feelings for Len that venture outside of the hero-villain dynamic they’ve so masterfully cultivated?

As much as Len would like to investigate that possibility, he can’t. They have a situation here that he doesn’t have an easy fix for.

But maybe he doesn’t want one.

Len knows that this can’t go anywhere but downhill, for him and for Barry. But he also knows he can’t back out on Barry now. Not with those eyes staring at him as if he’s the only thing keeping Barry tethered to planet earth.

No one’s ever looked at him that way, with that level of need. Not even his sister.

It’s also not lost on him that this is the longest Barry has managed to stay awake since he arrived at STAR Labs. That in itself is a reason for Len to stay.

What Len doesn’t know is how the hell he’s going to pull this off.

Make a plan. Execute the plan. Expect the plan to go off the rails. Throw away the plan.

Welp. He seems right about on par.

He squeezes Barry’s hand gently. To his own surprise, he leans forward and gives him a kiss on the forehead.

“All right, Red,” he whispers. “I’ll stay. We’ll … figure this out.”

[cyanpeacock]

Agh. It is morning. I am awake.

Don’t feel so hot. Lots of guilt and shame. Also fury. Trying to like... feel it without hating it and getting into that whole spiral.

I’m tired and struggling with like, reasons my body is worth caring for? 

I feel kind of like... I’m ungrateful. Why would I cut all contact with a family that would accept me. They say they love me. They let me go to their houses. They’re alright... right?

But they didn’t fucking accept me. 

OK this got long and furious under the cut wow. Apparently that’s why waking up was such a cunt this morning. Well. It’s out now. 

They wanted me to be amazing in school, and got upset and/or angry and/or disappointed and/or guilty when I wasn’t achieving those kinds of grades. Punished for it. Means of social contact taken away from me, when I was already so fucking lonely. Constantly being fucking watched through a hole in the door. What the fuck kind of house just has holes in all the fucking doors? Why the fuck do you think that’s okay? Do you have any idea how much that fucked with my sense of privacy, how long I felt permanently observed for? Are you even aware how much your other kids hate it?

They wanted me to be a girl, and told me I was ‘just confused’ when I came out, got my name and pronouns wrong like they assumed it was going to pass in the next month, every fucking month. I wasn’t allowed boys’ clothes because “they wouldn’t fit me,” when being a “tomboy” was absolutely fine. Uh, I’m pretty sure ‘boy’ and ‘girl’ children do share dimensions? They’re both humans? I wasn’t even allowed to cut my fucking hair for years, because my mother wanted control over how my body wore my hair, and she wanted it long and blonde and pretty like the perfect working-housewife-to-be. She didn’t see me as a fucking man until after testosterone, and her eyes are still fucking looking for her “little girl.” Fuck off. She died ten thousand times living with you. She was one of those creepy dead-eyed dolls Sheila keeps on the landing in Killinghall. It drives me insane. 

Okay this is pretty pointedly at my mother now so yeah.

“You’ll always be my baby” NO I fucking WON’T. Jesus fucking christ woman, I am not a baby any more. You might remember a tiny child and get all misty-eyed. I’m sure it’s reassuring to some adult children. How that feels to me? Oppressive. Like it’s a trap. All-consuming. Like if I go, and actually express and deal with all my rage, I’m going to destroy your world. Because that’s how it fucking worked at the beginning. If I expressed I was hurt, or angry, or upset, or hungry, or in need, I’d get fucking yelled at, I’d get yanked around, I’d get smacked. I’d get ignored. I’d get told I don’t deserve food. I’d get shut inside a lonely dark dirty disgusting fucking room and you’d pretend I didn’t exist. 

You never saw how mental I went. You never saw me chewing the bedframes. You never saw me clawing at the walls. You never saw me picking the paint off the plaster, just the aftermath. You never saw me hurling my toys and books around in a rage, you just assumed I was ‘making a mess’. You never saw me beating my skull and body with my fists. You never saw me beating up Hank the teddy in complete rage then sobbing and apologizing to him like he was alive. You never saw me standing in the window crying wishing somebody, maybe the nice man Jeff down the road, would help me. 

You never saw how I learned to imagine characters and stories so hard I began hallucinating them in my attempts to escape that ‘home.’ You never saw me wishing the ‘scary’ pedophiles in the white vans would come and take me away, because then maybe somebody would love my body for something different, and that I wouldn’t have to think so hard any more. You never saw me wish that mummy would just kill me so it would all be over. You never saw the help notes I wrote and tore up and posted outside, in the hopes somebody would put them together, and realize I was so scared of being caught asking for help that I destroyed my attempts to get it. 

I’m fucking furious. Again and again you’d say bullshit like “imagine how I feel!” when you were the grown fucking adult in the dynamic. And I know-- Christopher comes into the equation, so does Sheila, who - man, that’s just, why would you still see that almost-murderer - I understand why, but holy fuck, I can’t watch myself start living like that - but this, right now, is about you and the child you did not protect, but transferred pain onto. 

You got so fucking far inside my head I believed I was ungrateful, disgusting, a brat, just whining, that I had no reason to be so upset. That I should just buck up, and go to school, that I wasn’t doing good enough. I still don’t fucking feel good enough, because you’d go from essentially calling me worthless, to calling me a genius or a prodigy when I did something academically remarkable. It was the only way to convince you I had value. 

So I learned to escape through school. I learned to just do the work, even though I still wanted to die right there. Easier to do an exam with an invisible gun to my head than to go home in the evenings, more fun, actually, because at least there was a chance of success in the exam. You didn’t see all the dark fucking nights I lived through considering suicide, wishing desperately that I could just kill myself, but feeling like my utter desperation to get away mattered less than your happiness. Awake all night trying to get away from the thoughts that told me to just stab myself, just go out in the cold, just rot away, because I felt responsible for holding the family together. And I also felt like I was the one destroying it.

I felt responsible for that, especially with how PISS fucking poorly you and David both handled that relationship. Neither of you are emotionally healthy people. You both used emotional manipulation on the children involved in attempts to achieve the same ends: harm the other party, gain power and control.

You know, I want to be a nice guy. I want to give happy happy endless love to the universe. Why do you think I was capable of moving in with a self-declared sadist, a man who’d shot men? Because I’d already lived with somebody who was wounding me every fucking day. In insidious, nasty little ways. That the David cunt only observed and copied. From you, Claire.

Your literal gibbering about “brainwashing!” and “mind control!!” - literally, what the fuck, woman. You’re not immune to propaganda either. You were literally making up your own. You two thought you were the entire fucking universe. He was the Right, you were the Left. It was the Tories and the Labour party, the Axis and the Allies, and the unwitting, dumb voters, with no experience in politics.

This is literally how you framed it to me.

That is literally how you two IDIOTS thought it was appropriate to navigate a breakup.

You know what? I’m done with it, again. You’re different to him in how you throw your shade, and that’s all. He’s alright, in moderation. You’re alright, in moderation. I could tolerate a serial killer, in moderation; I almost fucking was one, with how hurt I’d become, and how little trust in and respect for human beings I’d developed. All just meat to me. It’s all I’ll be in the end, anyway. It gave me a sense of power to stalk strangers at night, and observe their weak points, and consider how fucking easy it would be to get a rush that way. 

And I can’t have these conversations with you, these furious fucking conversations, because I am conditioned to box up every bit of my rage when I even THINK of your face. You show up in my mind with your eyes all watery blue and bloodshot from drinking, and your lip and chin all tight like you’re going to cry, and it convinced - and still sometimes convinces me - “pack it in, you can’t destroy her like that, the world will fucking end, it’ll come back on you and your siblings. There will be punishment, there will be blood, and it’ll be yours, and you’ll be left all alone cleaning it up with no fucking support. The only eye that sees your blood will punish you for making a mess with it.”

Neither of you can see shit about what I really feel, unless you’re reading it here, like fucking omnipresent surveillant operatives of Big Brother, which I suspect at least one of you might actually be fucking doing. 

Sure, things changed when I came back, still going through active trauma, desperate for something, some illusion of healthy family. Was that healthy? No. Was I actively going through unhealthy, traumatic times? Yes. We do unhealthy things in unhealthy times, and afterwards, while we process the feelings we went through but were numb to. It happens. I understand this, it’s why I kept making fucking excuses, why I thought ‘explanations’ of behaviour meant anything when you’d hurt somebody. It’s why I boxed up all this fucking rage. It’s why I thought my pain was meaningless compared to yours.

I’ll give this to you, you got nicer. You drink less. I appreciate it, for your other kids. They’re doing better than I was, but they’re still not well. 

When did that change?

After your first fucking child ran away, because of the sheer amount of pain you were transferring onto them. Because of the toxic fucking environment of emotional manipulation and infantilization you’d continued to foster. Because it was easier to live with a racist opioid addict murderer for a while than to stay in that shithole city any longer. I had to force you to realize how fucking unhealthy that place was.

I’m not being kind right now, because I don’t know how to express all this fucking fury in a kind way. I don’t know how to soften the blow. Maybe there’s no fucking way, maybe that’s why I’m doing it on my blog. I still don’t believe you’re grown enough to handle this shit. You shut me down in every difficult conversation about feelings, and you don’t even mean to. Why do you think I cried on you so fucking much, but you could never fucking console me? Because you fucked up at the start. Because you didn’t establish a secure attachment between yourself and your child. Because you couldn’t provide for me.

I don’t blame you for being unable to provide for me. Circumstances align this way, often, and it’s inevitable. 

I can’t go back in time and re-establish that attachment. There’s always this lingering fucking, waiting for the stab in the back. Waiting for trouble. Those moments where I go completely blank and convince myself it’s always been happy, it’s always been nice, I really am imagining things, I really do just overreact... there’s something wrong with me, why am I so ungrateful? Why can’t I feel joy here? Why is it always bittersweet? 

It’s fucking me up. It really hurts me, every day. Every god damn day when I’m living with myself, and actually working on acknowledging and expressing what I really feel, in as healthy a way as I can muster. I still wake up thinking I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve to smile today. I’ve ruined the world. I’ve fucked up so badly by making the decision not to speak to you again. 

I have to stop doing that to myself. 

I went psychotic from the amount of repressed trauma I’d been burying by smoking pot. My brain had to show me all that pain and instability I’d been avoiding, in the form of hallucinated symbols. 

It was terrifying. It was also incredibly helpful. The doors of perception, as it were. Thanks for that one - I’m off making my own Brave New World, and it’s on the island, far away from the rest of them, with their neatly chemically controlled babies in fucking jars.

I needed to drug myself to function, for a while. I needed my meds to function. To do the only thing I’d ever been truly worth anything for, the only thing that was going to get me out and away. I’m coming to doubt that it was ever really my choice to be an academic. Between ability and unhealthy amounts of pressure, I was forced this way, like that fucking rhubarb you were growing. 

So I suppose that’s why I woke up this morning and thought about staying in bed all day, hiding from the rest of the universe. I wanted to go back to sleep, so I didn’t have to feel how fucking angry and hurt I am. I can’t avoid feeling angry and hurt, now nothing’s actually hurting me in my daily life, now I’ve got people who respect my every word for what it is. 

And I have to do this every day. Every fucking day, I’ve got to have these conversations with myself. Sometimes I write them. Sometimes I sing them. Sometimes I have to talk through them, slowly and haltingly, trying to understand why something apparently small hurts like something much bigger. 

Why am I ‘doing this to myself’? So I don’t do it to anybody else. Not again. So I can come to a place where I feel worthy, and deserving, and like I can connect enough to my feelings and body to function without damaging myself even more. 

All that fucking denial of my physical pain. All that denial there was anything medically wrong with me. It got inside me, man. 

But - I have to accept my borderline. I have to accept that I have an intense emotional range, that causes me problems in meeting the societal standards of daily life, because I’ve been through an emotionally intense past. 

I also have to accept that it’s not normal for this (almost) 22 year old body to click and crack and pop and grind and ache so much I have to literally limp around. My hips should not be audibly thunking when I go to sit down in an office chair to check my emails. My shoulders should not be sliding out of place steadily over the course of the day. I should never have gone so physically numb that I didn’t notice my binder warping my ribs. 

I said I thought I had Ehlers-Danlos. You said I read too much, and that I was paranoid. Where am I now? Six years later, facing the possibility that that really is what’s wrong with my cartilage, the reason my skin is so soft, the reason my ribs bent so easily, the reason my vertebrae slide over each other audibly, the reason the only joints I have that don’t hurt are my elbows. And I’ve got to do it alone, because I can’t deal with looking right at your guilt every time I bring it up, because I know that you know now that this really isn’t normal, and you ignored it at a time so much damage could have been prevented. 

I know why it went down that way. I do and don’t blame you. I just have to get angry, so I can fucking do something with my day that isn’t pure escapism, something constructive. 

So now I’m wrapping this one up. I’m not fucking “packing it in” any more. I’ll wrap it up, at a time and place of my choosing, considering every body and mind my actions are affecting in the moment. Right now? This is for me.

[rhysand-vs-fenrys]

Nesta in ACOFAS: My Overall Opinion

Below the cut is my stance and interpretation of everything Nesta and surrounding Nesta in ACOFAS. I’ve been as exhaustive as possible in my answer because I’m only making this one post to go through it all.

It is broken up into 5 sections (with subcategories):

How the trauma built

How it manifests

Rhys & Feyre’s responses (with some overall references to the IC here)

Cassian’s role

Nesta overall

The TL;DR of what follows is that I support the direction SJM is taking these characters and it is completely logical as they have been presented to us.

How the Trauma Built

This is to the people saying Nesta was OOC because of her PTSD (though again, Maas is these character’s God and Creator, it’s impossible for her to write OOC).

Nesta was isolating herself quite a bit in the beginning of ACOWAR. She wanted nothing to do with anybody, and also isolated Elain with her. She had a sort of ally in that regard.

Over the course of ACOWAR, Nesta started reaching out more and engaging more with Prythian and the other members of the Inner Circle. She even came close to reconciling with Feyre (more on that with “Rhys and Feyre’s Responses”). 

For Nesta at that point, being alone to process her thoughts and then becoming more immersed in Velaris and Prythian was the right path. It helped her find the ground again after her trauma in the Cauldron, which is very much described in WAR as a violation with similar descriptors to being raped (feeling that their body did not belong to them anymore). 

And then Nesta killed Hybern.

She was built as being incredibly resistant to even the idea of war, and never wanted to fight (More on that later in “Cassian’s Role”). The IC were the fighters, she wanted to maintain the sort of innocence that came from not surrounding herself in blood.

Not only did Nesta kill Hybern, but she killed a dying man. Elain struck the fatal blow- the knife through his neck. He was done for. Because of what he’d done to their father and to Cassian, Nesta snapped and literally sawed off his head while he was still alive.

ACOFAS builds around Nesta’s thoughts of that moment, the last words Cassian thought he would ever say to her, and her own fears during that time. 

I think Nesta would have been alright if “just” the Cauldron happened (not that that was a weak blow). She was finding her way and her strength, she’d accepted that at her core nothing was different. She was still the same Nesta she’d always been- imperious and not someone to fight a war. 

But then she was the one who ended it, and that shattered her sense of self and with it any progress Nesta had made against the trauma of the Cauldron. After 1 traumatic event, it is hard enough to find your footing. After two, spaced far enough apart that some semblance of recovery had been made? Utterly devastating. 

How it Manifests

The Drinking

The IC has always processed things with the assistance of alcohol. Rhys’ answer to Feyre’s marriage to Tamlin was a plan to get blackout drunk. Cassian having a bad meeting with Nesta in MAF meant he went for the liquor when he came home. Feyre fighting with Nesta in WAR earned advice from Mor that it was fine to drink directly from the bottle.

Giving Nesta space to drink all she wanted might not have seemed entirely wrong (at least, at first). Fae healing probably means over-drinking isn’t as much of a threat to their health, and it took them a while to realize and accept that Nesta wasn’t just drinking off stress, she was well on her way to becoming an alcoholic.

I hesitated there to say that she is an alcoholic mainly because she wasn’t showing signs (in her PoVs) of an addiction mindset. She never seems to crave alcohol, and I think overall rather than an addiction it’s an expression of her trauma and attempt at self-medication of sorts (not to say it hasn’t morphed into full alcoholism). 

Again, that isn’t a denial that it’s alcoholism, just a hesitation in assigning the term in this circumstance without more data.

The Sex

If you haven’t read the ACOMAF excerpt “A Court of Wings and Embers” about Cassian and Nesta’s meeting, it revealed something about her back story that she (and Cassian) never mentioned in the core trilogy or FAS: When Nesta broke up with Thomas Mandry, he attacked her and nearly raped her. He got as far as tearing her dress before she managed to escape.

In “Wings and Embers”, Nesta is even sensitive to Cassian’s normal taunts and demeanor because of that experience, she has a bit of a flashback of sorts while they’re talking and he realizes what must have happened. Nesta refuses to give him the name of the man who tried to hurt her (because he promises very sincerely that he will kill him).

For Nesta to go from that to unchecked anonymous sex ties directly into her references in ACOFAS to feeling completely numb inside. I think in forcing herself to bed some random stranger- which “Wings and Embers” makes clear is unacceptable to her- she was trying to trigger some kind of shame or horror response in herself. 

She was trying to feel anything. Even if that feeling was fear.

The IC has always been sex-positive, and they didn’t have that critical piece of knowledge Cassian alone holds about Nesta’s past. So they had no hope of catching Nesta’s behavior early on as the cry for help it is.

In that vein, some people do use sex as a coping mechanism after stress or a traumatic experience (This one being killing Hybern). Nesta was lost and needed to figure out who she was after her self-image was shattered. The sex alone might not be the best way to handle it, but it didn’t raise flags for Feyre and the IC because they didn’t know the piece of Nesta’s story Cassian was pledged to secrecy over.

I did not see slut-shaming anywhere in ACOFAS. If anything, Feyre dwells on it because it’s the piece that really doesn’t fit for her. Nesta used Feyre’s sexual relationship with Isaac as fodder to make her miserable. Nesta is the one who slut-shames in TAR and even leans towards it in MAF when she’s snapping at Rhys (More on that in “Rhys and Feyre’s Responses” next).

Feyre isn’t sitting there going “Wow Nesta is a slut”, she’s trying to connect the dots, again while missing the piece of information that would reveal exactly how Nesta was using that sex in her PTSD. 

From an outside standpoint, Maas was using it to show another way PTSD manifests. Feyre and Aelin both manifest as being hollow inside and completely shutting down. Some people affected by PTSD don’t have that “quiet” route, and so Maas is opening up and exploring another form. 

The sexual aspect of Nesta’s PTSD is specifically to show that fundamental difference in how her trauma needs to be treated (more on that in “Nesta overall”).

Rhys and Feyre’s Responses

This section alone could be a novel, so I’m going to try and keep it fairly linear timeline-wise, but still separate Rhys and Feyre later on.

History

Think about how we’ve seen Nesta in ACOTAR and ACOMAF:

In ACOTAR, she’s a frigid, cruel bitch to her baby sister. She slut shames her, insults her, finds insults that literally make Feyre flinch and digs in harder, and does everything in her power to sabotage Feyre because Nesta is mad at their father. For years she makes Feyre’s life a living hell and even contributes to Feyre’s own psychological issues that Tamlin actually heals in TAR (props where props go).

Feyre has zero hope for life in the beginning of TAR, she even tells her father hope doesn’t exist because she genuinely believes that. It is tied almost exclusively to Nesta’s abuse or things that result from her abuse (if Nesta had helped Feyre instead, they might have been able to find a better footing in their poverty, or at least had a home Feyre didn’t dread returning to).

When she returns to the mortal lands, before venturing out to save Tamlin(’s ungrateful ass), Feyre finds a sort of peace with Nesta and starts to realize why Nesta was so horrible to her for so long. The key here is that there is no reconciliation, just a beginning step towards one.

In ACOMAF, Feyre returns from Prythian almost expecting that same quasi-peace she and Nesta found, only to find Nesta as viciously mean and cruel as she was in TAR (probably because of Cassian, but also her own prejudice against Fae and all that their presence might represent (war)). 

Again, a bit of understanding is reached by the end of the book-

then Nesta and Elain are thrown into the Cauldron.

And guess how Nesta treats Feyre in WAR when she returns? Like shit. Again.

Each time the slide back to cruelty makes sense- TAR --> MAF it is the introduction of the fae element and knowing Feyre’s involvement makes the war inevitably an Archeron problem. MAF --> WAR it is the incredibly traumatic event Nesta and Elain went through, Feyre not being there to help them on the other side, and Nesta feeling as if she and Elain were abandoned to the care of near strangers after such a horrifying event (that again is always described along the same vein psychologically as being raped).

Still, even though it makes sense where she is coming from, Nesta does always return to the evil bitch role and never apologizes to Feyre (though she does come close).

Rhysand

He’s first because he’s easy.

People are harping on Rhysand for how he treats Nesta in FAS but it’s totally in line with canon. Feyre snaps at him in WAR for little offhand comments he makes against Nesta. He’s never had a particularly warm image of her.

Rhys brings out receipts for Nesta’s treatment of Feyre pre-ACOTAR, specifically sending her out to hunt in the forest. Remember what happened to Rhys’ little sister when the older sibling didn’t protect them? And she was meeting him somewhere that should have been perfectly safe, she wasn’t entering a dangerous area armed.

On top of that, he’s seen Nesta slut-shame her sister, and even from a non-Feyre side of things, Nesta has a habit of landing hard blows on his entire IC. His best friends who have helped him through horrible trauma, and she attacks them and repeatedly belittles them. 

From his PoV, even if he wasn’t in love with Feyre, Nesta is just downright evil.

Feyre

Nesta is always going back-and-forth. Even Feyre cannot predict when Nesta will strike a blow (metaphorically) or when she’ll be somewhere in the vicinity of pleasant. She defends Nesta to Rhysand (in MAF, WAR, and FAS), but even so whenever Nesta opens her mouth to say something Feyre flinches or anticipates something horrible.

She doesn’t want Rhys to speak ill of her family because they are all she has left of her mortal life, and she had to literally risk her life to keep them fed for years. She couldn’t let grudges grow, because if she did she might just walk into the woods and leave them to starve. They are her family, and so she feels an obligation to protect both Nesta and Elain (more on Elain in a moment).

That doesn’t mean she isn’t affected by how she was treated, or that old wounds aren’t there. She just doesn’t want to get into it. It makes Feyre more dismissive of Nesta, but she is still trying. She’s just lost the strength to try as hard as she would for Mor or Cassian or even Elain- people who actually show her kindness and love.

Elain and the IC

Mor sees Nesta as a nasty thorn in Feyre’s side, but she knows what it is to deal with horrible family (to a much harsher degree). She supports Feyre and her stance, and that’s it. She tried making friends with Nesta and had her head bit off, so she’s not reaching out.

Amren and Azriel you all know.

Elain is where Nesta isolated herself wholly and completely.

In WAR, Nesta had Elain with her as they processed their trauma. Elain was worse off than she was, completely shut down, and so the isolation seemed like a good idea (you may remember in WAR it was not a good idea when it came to Elain, she needed to be around others regularly to open up).

After WAR though... Elain accepted Prythian. She doesn’t fully accept that things are over with Grayson, and doesn’t entirely acknowledge that she is fae, but she accepts Prythian and Velaris and Night. She accepts the world, even while ignoring her circumstance... and Nesta resents her for it.

Elain was always side-by-side with her, but as Elain settled and Nesta raged, she couldn’t count on her younger sister anymore to just be there and understand. Elain started having her own life and hobbies. She found a way to start processing her pain and deal with it. She wasn’t set back by the death of Hybern because Elain accepted that it had to happen and she was protecting her family and avenging their father. 

Elain is very much the one to let go of grudges, while Nesta holds them in a vice-grip. Nesta resented Elain’s peace, and so she distances herself from even Elain, while still leaving a door open for the sister she always favored (at least for a while in FAS Elain is the one who can get Nesta to do stuff).

Cassian’s Role

From the very beginning of WAR, Cassian has known Nesta isn’t like her sisters.

He wanted Nesta to train, he taunted her over it repeatedly, trying to goad her into it. Cassian’s approach to Nesta has always been the closest to how Nesta needed to be approached. He has a fundamental understanding of her and her personality.

Cassian was once someone without a place in the world, and so he carved it out himself. He wants that for Nesta, but he also knows she has to be the one to take it. He tries to help Nesta while giving her her space, and he also seems to accept that while Vealris treats Nesta as if she’s his (brought up by Nesta herself in FAS), she is still her own person and free to be with whoever she wishes or live as she chooses.

Cassian is trapped between wanting to help Nesta as much as she will allow, and minding that line so she knows he isn’t trying to force his presence or himself on her. He is dismissed and ignored by Illyrians as a bastard and is touchy about that, but he endures dismissal when it comes from Nesta so that she knows he is always there for her.

Still, as much as he clearly loves her and cares about her, he can only take so many hits at a time before old wounds become too raw. That is why he will push more forcefully, but in the end he always leaves it to Nesta to take the final step herself.

Cassian is watching her more closely than the others, and he knows that missing piece about her sexual history. He is trying to help her as much as he is capable, but he also knows she needs something different. She needs real help, and Cassian doesn’t have any right to be the one to drag her bodily off to get the treatment she needs. He also knows she wont open up to some doctor.

I’m not doing a lot on Cassian’s stance because that’s what the next novel is going to be. Cassian honestly sees the same pain on Nesta that he had, and he knows her personality very well. She needs the fight, and she needs to feel like she’s earned and carved her own spot in the world.

She needs training as an Illyrian, a position he has always held when it comes to Nesta.

Nesta Overall

Contrary to how some tumbrs have been spinning it, the IC and Feyre never outright abandoned Nesta.

Even Nesta acknowledges at one point that the IC tried giving her jobs or pulling her along in their group to get her to engage. They tried to help her through her PTSD the same way they did for Feyre, Rhys, Mor, even Elain (given a job early on of designing the Townhouse garden). Rhys has offered her duties or positions, Feyre’s tried to help find hobbies for her, and yet Nesta is resistant to all.

As I said before, Maas is showing another form of PTSD, one that requires a completely different path of treatment. The IC try to heal Nesta the way they healed others, but she was never going to be able to walk that same path, not after what happened with the King of Hybern at least (remember, Nesta accepted the role as Ambassador to the Human Lands in WAR as she recovered from what the Cauldron did to her, then wanted nothing to do with it in FAS).

The IC didn’t abandon her, they just couldn’t understand her, and Nesta cannot express herself to show them how best to help her. 

She’s always been barbed and defensive, and in this case when she needed people to gather around her all the more and see through it, they were pushed back because of her own past actions. The IC cannot help her, because she burned bridges with them time and again and they’re just done taking her punches.

Cassian sees what is happening, and he tries to reach for her- but Nesta doesn’t need him alone to make that leap. Even if she loves Cassian desperately and they are endgame mates (that’s not an ‘if’ that’s a fact), she needs to know the others care.

She needs to know that she is genuinely wanted, that her presence is appreciated and accepted with no other thought than “Nesta’s here, I’m so happy” (why Cassian reacted so strongly when Feyre made mention of the almost buyer’s bargain with Nesta coming to Solstice).

Feyre’s exhausted when it comes to her sister. Rhys and  most of the IC have no reason to reach out for her very much because of her own personality and how it hides deep rooted insecurities. Rhys in particular has dealt with horrible people his entire life and he’s not willing to keep them around that much, not if he believes there is nothing redeeming inside them. 

Nesta is screaming for help in her own way, but unfortunately it’s a case where no one else speaks the language, save Cassian. And knowing Cassian understands makes Nesta feel ashamed and weak, open and judged, so she uses every weapon at her disposal to push him back.

She needs both isolation and acceptance. Nesta cannot open up enough for that, and the rest of the IC doesn’t speak that language. They aren’t wilfully ignoring it, they honestly have no idea how to process it and are frustrated by that lack of understanding.

The minute she got up and went to the dying King of Hybern, this became completely inevitable. Nesta isn’t someone who can be strengthened and forged like Feyre or even Elain- surrounded by gentle love and kindness. She needed to be shattered and re-forged, and when she is she will be stronger, more confident, and happier for it.

The next book is going to be incredible.

[speedsterviolence]

Life After Death

Chapter one: Gone For Good

My First Fic!!!! Hope you guys enjoy it!

Dick was pacing. He was waiting on news from Red Robin about Bruce, and couldn't help but worry about his father. He knew the fear wasn't rational. Bruce had gone out only a day before. He’d had missions before where he'd be gone for weeks on end and come back fine. There was just something about Bruce's most recent mission that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. His stomach a cauldron of emotions, brewing and bubbling viciously... his head throbbing, and his heart beating rapidly. It all took a sickening lurch from Red Robin's words over the comms.

“I've found him,” Tim whispered, voice hoarse.

“And?” Came Damian's voice from beside Dick, not seeming to notice that something was wrong.

When Tim spoke next, there was no denying the strain in his voice. He sounded as if on the verge of tears as he sputtered out

“H-h-he's dead.”

Dick collapsed onto the floor and reached out to Damian, pulling his kid brother into a hug.

As he held his youngest brother in his arms, a memory played in his head. A memory he barely recognized.

Dick was sitting at the cave's computer, Tim's voice echoing around his head.

“You said we'd be okay,” He said, his voice shaking, “My entire life has burnt down! Again! I don't call this 'okay’, Dick.”

He didn't know what to say. Dick himself felt lost and scared. He didn't know how to help his brother who was more lost and scared than he was.

“He's my responsibility, now. You're not my protege, Tim... you're my equal. My closest ally. You'll be okay.” He paused, a quick glance toward his brother, before continuing “But him...Tim, you know better than anyone that left on his own, he's going to kill someone. Again. You have to understand-”

“No I don't.” Tim cut off, his voice breaking at 'don’t’ “This is all I have now.”

A new voice broke the silence between the brothers, a mocking, scathing voice that could only belong to a younger Damian.

“Oh, are you still here?” he sneered, wearing his usual snarky smile.

Dread filled the pit of his stomach. Damian couldn't be here. Tim wouldn't stay if Damian would keep insulting him.

He watched as Tim slowly turned toward their younger brother, disdain written on his face.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Damian grinned again

“We’ll have to upgrade security in the cave, Batman. Keep out the riff-raff.”

Tim looked to Dick, his nostrils flaring and his eyes hard.

“How can you let him wear that costume, Dick? What Earth are we on that you choose him over me?”

Before he could reply, Damian jeered again

“Don't be so sensitive, Drake.”

He just couldn't help himself could he? He couldn't keep his mouth shut for once and let Dick tell Tim that things were going to be okay. Even without Bruce.

“Damian, shut up. Now.” He hissed, hoping that Damian would listen. Of course not.

“Sorry, Drake. You're still part of the team- maybe the Batgirl costume is still available!”

Tim turned on a dime, swinging his fist blindly, and punching Damian right in the jaw.

“My name is Tim Wayne!” He yelled, a few tears spilling out of his eyes.

Dick immediately grabbed his arms back, warning him to back off.

On the floor, Damian smiled yet again.

“I let you get that shot in, Drake. I want you to feel good about yourself...God knows you don't have any other reason!”

Tim freed his arm from Dick's grasp, his features telling a story of betrayal

“You want me to back off? Fine.”

As Tim stormed off, Dick called out after him

“He’s gone, Tim. You have to accept it. Things have to change. But I still need you.”

Tim didn't respond, and the memory faded out into darkness.

_____________________________________

Tim couldn't breathe. His father was dead. Still  in his arms, and he couldn't breathe, couldn't move. He was barely able to get the words out to Dick and Damian to tell them. His eyes burned and he didn't know what to do. He wanted to get as far away from Bruce's body as he could, yet he kept holding on, forcing himself into believing that he wasn't really dead. If he held on long enough, maybe Bruce would hug him back, tell him everything would be alright. It definitely was not alright.

Tim did not move for what felt like an hour. He only moved when Jason arrived and pried him away from Bruce. He spoke to Tim, probably trying to lighten the mood with his dark humor, but Tim didn't hear him. He sat on the ground, paralyzed with shock. He could barely feel the tears rolling down his cheeks. He wasn't even there, his mind stuck in a tidal wave of memories. The memories crackled in and out of his vision, blurred and fading.

They were memories of a forgotten year, full of pain, grief, and healing. They were broken and barely recognizable, but they sparked so much emotion. The pain of feeling alone in the world; the joy of reconnecting with friends and family; the journey of healing. There were people who looked familiar but he couldn't put names to. A girl with dark skin, black hair, and brown eyes. Another girl who wore the Wonder insignia.

When Tim woke up, he was in the passenger seat of the Batmobile. He felt weak and his throat stung from crying. He looked over at Jason, whose jaw was set. An obvious indication that he was trying to hold back his emotions.

“Welcome back Timbo,” He remarked, eyes still glued to the road.

“Did I pass out?”

“Yes. You did- well... your eyes were open the whole time. It was like you were somewhere else. You talked 'bout some people as well. Tam and Cassie, I think. Have you made some new friends recently?”

Tim shook his head, in a numb daze.

“No. I-I don't even know anyone named Tam...or anyone I call Cassie. I did... I did dream though. It was like I was watching a year playback in my head. Everything was blurred and fading.”

Tim looked out the window. He tried to focus on the autumn landscape to get his mind off of the growing uneasy feeling in his stomach, and the crushing tightness in his chest.

It didn't work. He couldn't get his mind off it. Couldn't get his mind off of what had happened. His mind kept jumping to the exact thing he wished he could ignore.

           Over and over and over again. Running into the stockyard, eyes falling on Bruce's lifeless body as his heart hammered in his chest. The pain in his chest that grew as he staggered toward his adoptive father. The tears spilling from his eyes and down his cheeks.

“Nothing will ever be the same, Jason. Bruce is gone. What...what are we going to do?”

The car stopped. Jason turned to him, hands shaking.

“I don't know. A few days ago I really wanted him dead... and now...”

His chest tightened even more. Ignoring it, he slowly spoke.

“Jason, you can't be blaming yourself.”

He swatted the comment aside, and turned back to the steering wheel.

“I'm not. Trust me.”

They didn't speak for the rest of the ride home. Tim just stared out the window, going over what had happened over and over in his head. If he'd just come sooner then maybe….

_____________________________________

He sat in a chair beside Dick’s bed, shaking as an overwhelming feeling of emptiness engulfed him. Since Dick was still asleep, he figured it would be alright to let out his thoughts.

“Grayson…?” He started, voice shaking “Father’s dead. Todd and Drake are bringing him back as I speak...and...and I don't know what I'm supposed to feel or think. ”his words were met with an expected yet disheartening silence. He laughed  bitterly at himself.

“It's almost as though I thought you would answer my thoughts. Ridiculous. Talking to you while you're asleep is just as pointless as praying to God,”

Damian then started to stand up, paused, and sat back down again. As much as it hurt him to be there, he wanted to know what had happened in the cave. He also wanted to be there for his brother, although he'd never admit it.

Not too much later, Alfred opened the door of the room to find Damian reading Crime and Punishment silently. The man cleared his throat, surprising Damian and making him drop his book. silently grabbed the book off the floor, Damian straightened himself, and greeted Alfred.

“Pennyworth. Are Todd and Drake back?”

The butler nodded solemnly. As Damian looked at him he noticed the man's red, puffy eyes. He had been crying. As made to leave,Damian stopped him, grabbing his arm gently.

“Are you alright?” He asked, brows knitting together with worry.

Alfred smiled stiffly, obviously not wanting to worry his grandson “I'm fine Master Damian. Now, we should call 911.”

With that, he went out of the room. Leaving Damian to hurry out after him.

They rushed into the Batcave, where Tim and Jason stood talking in hushed voices. That is, until Damian and Alfred came in. Alfred quickly put a phone into Jason's hands and started walking out of the cave, only looking back to say:

“call 911 and inform them of Master Bruce’s death. I will let the superhero community know myself.”

As soon as Alfred had left the cave, Jason threw the phone to Damian. The young teenager glared at Jason for a moment.

“Why did you give this to me?” He hissed, the phone shaking in his hands.

A bitter laugh escaped Jason as he looked at Damian, shaking with grief and nerves.

“Kid, I’m legally dead,” he took a breath, closing his eyes briefly. “So call 911.”

Damian tapped the four digits into the phone, then put the phone  up to his ear. After a moment, an operator’s voice came through.

“911, what is your emergency?”

Damian froze. He shook and spluttered into the phone, trying to speak. He couldn’t.

In his moment of terror, Jason snatched the phone from his hand, pushing the phone up to his ear harshly.

“My Father, Bruce Wayne, was dropped on the Manor's doorstep. He's been badly beaten, and we fear that he's dead.” Jason told the operator as he glared at Damian.

“ What was that, kid? You just, froze.” he hissed

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Damian retorted, walking away.

He lumbered to his room, cursing himself. He couldn’t do it. Why couldn’t he do it? It was a simple call. Inform authorities of his father’s death,  then leave the cave and mourn in peace.

He flopped down on his bed, only to land on a bulky package. He flipped on to his back, taking the package in his hands and examining it.

It was a present, with a sticky-note attached, reading; I know we haven't been spending much time together as of late, with my Justice League missions, and you spending most of your time with the Teen Titans - let's start making up for that.

Damian didn't open it - he couldn't open it. He didn't want to think about his father. Didn't want to think about the fact that his father was dead, that he didn't get to say goodbye, that he had been consciously going against everything his father believed in for months.

He got up and stuffed the package into his bedroom closet, unwanted tears seeping out his eyes.

[snkpolls]

SnK Chapter 105 Poll Results

RATE THE CHAPTER

1,749 Responses

78.5% of the fandom reacted positively to “Assassin’s Bullet”, rating it a 4 or 5. While still high, this is down 20% from last month.

"Did you not understand the contents?" - Isayama, probably

I cried because of a work of fiction for the first time because of chapter 105. Isayama has achieved something not even Up or Infinity War could not. Great writing on Isayama's part & I am excited to see where he takes this story to next. Also, WERE GOING BACK TO PARADIS AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH

Holy fucking shit. I read the chapter before work and I lost my mind. I couldn't process anything and then Sasha was shot. I flipped! An amazing and incredible chapter.

My reaction to chapter 105 is basically just lying face-down on the floor.

EDITOR-KUN; YOU FAILED THIS FANDOM!!!!!

Depressing. Amazing. I'm dying.

ASIDE FROM SASHA’S DEATH, WHAT MOMENT WAS MOST EMOTIONAL FOR YOU?

1,722 Responses

Connie’s sweet OT3 embrace and admission that Jean and Sasha were special to him topped the list of emotional moments. “All of the above” and Eren’s mental breakdown at the news of Sasha’s death came in 2nd and 3rd.

At this point I numb myself and just ignore each chapter after I read it because it's getting too painful and I just wanna live my life you know

Attack on Suffering

Connie can not catch a fucking break.

Potato girl's death hit me hard, especially after that look on her face when Connie hugged Jean and herself. Poor Connie, the new master of suffering!

This chapter has had me so depressed. It's been days and I'm still not over Sasha, I still can't believe Potato Girl is gone forever. I'm worried for Eren, for what this loss of faith from the others will do to him, for the distance between him and Armin and Mikasa. Their strained dynamic is HEARTBREAKING.

WHICH MOMENT SURPRISED YOU MOST?

1,694 Responses

In a chapter filled with great moments, leaning the identity of Rope-kun was picked as most surprising with 30% of the vote. Confirmation that Zeke was working with Paradis came in a distant second.

I hate this.  I have resisted SO HARD, for SO LONG.  One hundred and five chapters later, I'm finally (FINALLY) invested in a Levi storyline.  How dare you, Isayama?  How dare you Jaime Lannister me this way?

I can't believe the paid actor bs was actually true lol. But I'm sure Zeke has his own objective and isn't actually on Paradis side even though they might benefit from his plans.

On chapter 105: arguably the best chapter so far in my opinion. It had so much going on. I was so excited to see the Zeke betrayal theory confirmed. Also even though Sasha is dead I feel really bad for Gabi. She's as much a victim in this as everyone.

ON A SCALE OF 1-5, HOW CHOKED UP WERE YOU OVER SASHA'S UNTIMELY DEATH?

1,743 Responses

We knew it was coming, we’ve been talking about it for years, still more than half the fandom was profoundly affected by Sasha’s death. At the other extreme, 22% expressed ambivalence.

SaShAaAaAaAaAaAaAaaaaaaaaaaa I will still be crying next month

I feel nothing about Sasha's death, mainly because she was saved by the editor before something I dislike happening. Another motive for my apathy related to her death is because of the massive nosense hate Gabi is receiving. People forget she's just kid, brainwashed and she doesn't know Paradis like we do or Reiner does.

Erwin was my favourite male character and Sasha was my favourite female character. Isayama Sensei, I don’t feel so good…

I can't really bring myself to care about Sasha's death. She's been dragged along for over 70 chapters now and it was time for her to die.

I have mixed feelings about Sasha's death. On the one hand I think had she died when she was supposed too, I would have felt more emotional about it. On the other hand, I'm glad there was another girl from the 104th still there during the RtS arc, and I liked her reactions there as well.

I'm still not over it and will probably be mourning Sash for the rest of my life.

I am still sad! I will be heartbroken if we see Sasha's family in the next chapter

WHOSE REACTION TO SASHA’S DEATH AFFECTED YOU MOST?

1,692 Responses

Isayama outdid himself with the various expressions of grief in this chapter. The fandom was divided three ways, but it was Connie’s quiet heartbreak that prevailed by a slim margin.

Now my two favourite SnK girls are dead. I knew that this could happen, but being killed because of Marcel or by Gabi... It was really twisted. Mikasa's cry broke me, because she was one of Sasha's best friends.

Eren's reaction to her death was very disturbing. At first I thought he was overcome with grief and crying, but upon further inspection he was laughing like a maniac.

we knew sasha was going to die for years now but that fuck! that really didn't have to happen!

Why did sasha have to die isayama :( She was a gorgeous woman with a great personality and just fjsfkskfkd FUCK OFF CONNIE DIDN’T DESERVE THIS KIND OF BIRTHDAY PRESENT

Isayama, why?

THE FANDOM IS DIVIDED ABOUT SEVERAL CHARACTERS. WHAT’S YOUR OPINION ON THEM?

Falco is best boy and Floch is worst. Isayama scored only marginally better than Zeke. Levi received 60 more marriage proposals than Eren. Yelena got the highest number of kisses.

We did some digging into the poll numbers to see which platform was most compassionate when it comes to Gabi. Discord and Instagram were the kindest, with  61% and 64% of respondents selecting “marry/adopt” or “kiss”. Tumblr was next with 54%. Reddit was the harshest. 2/3rds of all reddit respondents selected “kill” for Gabi.

OMG throw Floch out of the zeppelin the fucking shitbrain smartass.

WTF happened to Floch I thought initially he would be a voice of reason but evidently not…

Falco you cinnamon roll, too precious for this world, so pure and smol.

Gabi should feel the might of Ogweno's knee for all eternity.

Gabi is a precious bean! Don't talk to me or my daughter ever again!

Gabi can do us all a favor and swerve into oncoming traffic

Eren did nothing wrong

eren is irredeemable and now the villain.

Wanna kill and marry Eren at the same time.

I'm flying to japan to fist fight isayama

Definitely wanna marry Levi. Wanna hug all 104th squad (even sasha) and also the warriors and kids, they deserve it.

Isayama's story is practically screaming against wanting to kill traumatized kids, no matter their actions. *side eyes fandom discourse on Gabi, wonders if humanity is doomed*

Kiss Isayama, maybe If you gave him some Love,  He would stop being so cruel.

IT’S NOW CLEAR THAT EREN ACTED WITHOUT THE PERMISSION OF THE SURVEY CORPS. DO YOU BELIEVE THAT THE SURVEY CORPS IS BEING TOO HARSH ON HIM?

1,716 Responses

Eren received quite the scolding when he arrived on the airship. Nearly half of the fandom agreed that he deserved the harsh treatment, while about 28% of the fandom thinks that the Survey Corps could have handled the situation a little better.

If only the blimp’s door would’ve been closed earlier. I’m hoping the SC does realize that they’re being too harsh on Eren in upcoming chapters.

Honestly I'm surprised they threw the blame. Not actually surprised surprised. But in the past it was always push forward and keep moving with no regrets. And it seems they have fallen back on that. I think even though Eren's actions aren't justified and I don't think he's an innocent bean, but he managed to take a lot from the enemy with his move, with a minimal loss.

Eren didn't do anything that the SC hasn't done to him many times. Using him as bait is always their go to plan.

Erwin didnt lose an arm for this.

I see a lot of people excusing Eren's actions because things mostly worked out in Paradis's favor. However, that doesn't mean that A) it was a good decision, B) the survey corps couldn't have come up with an even better plan that--among other things--may have lessened civilian and foreign diplomat deaths, had they been given the time and opportunity, or C) that Eren should be let off the hook for going AWOL and teaming up with the foreign operative responsible for their commander's death. I still like him as a character, but Eren did a fucked up thing that is sure to have international consequences, and he more than deserved that kick and the distrust of his allies.

WHAT BEST DESCRIBES YOUR FEELINGS ABOUT EREN’S ACTIONS?

1,677 Responses

We still don’t know the full story behind Eren’s actions, but regardless of his intentions, many people were hurt in the process. 46% of the fandom believes that Eren’s actions will result in a positive outcome, while over half the fandom is either undecided until they have more information, or cannot look past what he did at all.

Team Eren! The losses are nothing compared to the gains. The world had declared war anyway, and they'd already de facto been at war for a decade. Wiping out an entire fleet, capturing the Warhammer, and successfully extracting Zeke was more than worth it. Very said about Sasha though, of course. Can't wait to go back home to Paradis again. Falco and Gabi are going to have their minds blown.

I believe that if Eren and the SC worked together with their plans and made compromises for one another then the result could've been even better, since Eren would have an entire military intelligence to help and not a man [Zeke] that can't truly be trusted.

He acted independently without the approval of the Paradise Government to terrorise a festival full of civilians.  His actions resemble a terrorist, arrested is being let off easily. Jean is right about the situation, Eren is the biggest reason Sasha is dead, he manipulated the Military Operation in which she died.

Eren told Reiner he now understands RBA's actions...but neverthless he's repeating them, even more cruelly perhaps. If he won't understand that the cycle of violence must be stopped in order to reach real freedom then I don't think he will ever get a happy end (beside the fact that he's going to die at 23 anyway)

I'm glad that we finally got confirmation that Eren was just his usual egoistic self that went on his own and everyone has to save his sorry ass. Again.  Bless Hanji for calling him out and roasting him once again. Can't wait to see another jail time for Eren. (Though I have the feeling he will get around it or that it will be skipped.) Too bad Eren just doesn't give a flying fuck about being punished or losing the trust of his comrades as long as he got his will.

Give eren a break please. He deserves it.

Erwin is turning in his grave.

Erwin would have called Eren a hero.

JEAN BLAMES EREN FOR SASHA’S DEATH. DO YOU?

1,685 Responses

Jean didn’t hesitate to call Eren out for being the catalyst for Sasha’s death. 49% agree that Eren isn’t solely to blame and that many parties are responsible, while 11% agree with Jean completely.

Death happens in random ways, if it’s heroic or humble, no one should get blamed for it since it is gonna happen one day or another,

In the end we can all blame Ymir Fritz for this fucked up planet this story takes place on.

War means death and they are clearly in war. So many people already died and Sasha was one of the many victims of war. She was not murdered by Eren or his decisions in my opinion.

None is at fault or everyone is at fault. Early celebration, no spotter for the guy that had yet to board the zeppelin in enemy territory, Eren forcing their hand to act prematurely all being part of it. But none can be single-handedly blamed.

War is hell.  People die.  If Eren didn't invade, they'd get invaded, and someone would die.

I think he's very emotional at that moment and is blaming Eren but in reality there are a number of attributing factors.

bit of all of these, but mostly war is war. it's amazing beyond belief new-squad-levi all survived as long as they did, and thru everything that has happened thus far. I'd argue the casualties had Paradis not taken the initiative blow could have been that much more devastating

ZEKE FAKED HIS DEATH AND IS TRAVELING TO PARADIS. WHAT DO YOU MAKE OF THIS?

1,683 Responses

With one big Zekeret out of the way, we asked the fandom whether they feel he is to be trusted or not. Nearly half the fandom agrees that Zeke’s only real alliance is with Eren, sharing a goal to free Eldia. A small 10% believe his intentions are genuine. The remainder of the fandom is still wary about his intentions altogether.

Do NOT drop your guard.  I trust Zeke about as far as I can throw him, and since my 100-pounds-soaking-wet best friend can beat me in arm wrestling, it's safe to say that that's NOT very far.

He's too cold - I don't trust him in the slightest. He probably still wants to end this tragic history - but in a final-for-all-humanity kind of way. He must be stopped!

I don't think he's being 100% genuine. I think he has his personal goals and his own versions of a free Eldia. There will be so Sure, he's supporting Eren but, I still think that he has his personal agenda, so I don't know if he just wants to free Eldia just because.

Zeke is concerned with Zeke. I think he was once tasked with the Owl's legacy as well, but now wants to double-cross everyone.

Zeke wants to try sour cream really badly

I believe that Zeke is working more or less for his own goals which is a free Eldian continent. Any alignment with the SC is because heads like Hanji support that ideal. Zeke also has personal interest in his brother and I doubt that he would stay on the SC or even Eren's side all that long if they conflicted with that goal.

DO ZEKE AND EREN HAVE THE SAME GOAL NOW THAT THEY CAN ACTIVATE THE COORDINATE?

1,686 Responses

For now it seems that Zeke and Eren likely allied due to a shared interest to free their people. But 55% of the fandom believe it’s too early to make that judgement call.

I'm unsure the Yeager brothers have quite the same desired outcome in mind. I wonder if they have different ideas of what "saving Eldia" actually means; On Zeke's part it could be saving all of them period. On Eren's, it may just be Paradisians. And if a disconnect like that exists, I can only imagine what their vision is of how to accomplish it. I think Eren's heart is still trying to stay in the right place but his mind can't be trusted to make sound, beneficial decisions.

I believe Zeke has his own agenda and it worries me. There is also the chance of Eren coming in terms with sacrificing Historia when "royal" Zeke starts doing his own thing.

Zeke is working with eren for as long as it conveniences him, but as soon as it doesn’t go his way he won’t hesistate to turn on him

Not at all. Zeke is the least trustworthy character of the series, I wouldn't be surprised if he was actually manipulating Eren. I wouldn't trust Zeke as far as I could throw him.

I'm a bit worried about Zeke's influence on Eren and his true agenda...as much as I want to believe Zeke is a great big brother, I'm still a bit suspicious.

ARMIN AND EREN'S REUNION PARALLELS THEIR REUNION IN THE UPRISING ARC, ALTHOUGH THIS TIME NO SMILES WERE SHARED. WHAT DO YOU EXPECT FROM THEIR RELATIONSHIP MOVING FORWARD?

1,685 Responses

Now that we’re starting to see the effects of EMA separation, it’s clear that Eren and Armin’s relationship is strained. Almost half of the fandom believe that they will work through it and remain friends, while many are apprehensive and think that things can go either way. Only a small amount believe that their friendship is still solid, and just a slightly larger amount believe their friendship is dead.

I expect them to become more distant while still caring about each other. Isayama stated that they would chose different paths anyway.

Eren has become shady, untrustworthy and even more reckless in a colder sense. Armin is less warm hearted, still quite emotional, and it probably hurts to see his best friend, Eren, become what he has. Mikasa has clearly grown. She doesn't care for Eren as much as she did before, and while she definitely still does care, she's less impulsive and shortsighted to what Eren has become. They've all grown. They've all grown as individuals. They've all grown apart. They say you become what you hate the most, which is only relevant in certain circumstances, but it's never been more represented than by Eren.

LEVI COMPARED EREN TO THE PEOPLE HE USED TO SEE WHEN HE LIVED IN THE UNDERGROUND. WHAT DO YOU THINK HE MEANT?

1,686 Responses

Levi expressed a sad and disappointed look at Eren as he likened him to the people from the underground city. 53% of the fandom believe that this is due to the lack of passion in Eren’s expression, while a good 33% believe it has more to do with Eren’s underhanded behavior by defecting from the Survey Corps.

Eren reminded him of his younger self.

I think Eren may have reminded Levi of his childhood, (while Eren was sitting there). Eren has become filthy, shady, untrustworthy, rogue and looked lifeless- much like the people of the Underground.

Is Eren's comment "did you not understand the letter" a reference to Levi's lack of education during his upbringing?

when Levi first met Eren, he decided to look after him because he saw something in Eren, a fire, a desire for life. now that fire is nowhere to be seen, Eren is just doing what he has to do to survive, like the people in the underground. Levi used to be one of those people and it’s not a coincidence that Eren’s expression parallels that of young Levi. So we could say that Levi didn’t expect Eren, of all people, to become like that.

Eren is evolved from edgy teenager to protagonist od scandinavian crime stories. He only need alkoholism to fullfile the picture

I believe it was a response to Eren's impertinence in asking whether Levi did not understand the contents of the letter, Eren said it in a challenging way, or could be a commentary on Eren's miserable state, but I believe it to be the first, this was my first impression while reading the chapter

DO YOU BELIEVE THAT GABI WILL BE SWAYED ON HER VIEWS OF PARADIS?

1,654 Responses

Close to 70% think Gabi will soon learn the difference in offering someone less than half a potato. In Marley it makes you the worst of all the devils, but on Paradis, that makes you best girl.

I might be in the minority but I really like Gabi, I find her really interesting and she has the potential to act as a foil to Eren. She has the opportunity to see the other side of the conflict and change her ways and possibly help put a stop to the fighting.

I'm excited to start seeing what paradis has been up to and what falco and gabi will think of the walldians

She's been indoctrinated, mistreated, and trained to kill her whole life, which is an absolutely sickening thing to see happen to a child. I do hope that by going to Paradis she may finally start seeing things the way Falco does.

She has been raised in pro-marley family, she strongly believed that people from Paradis were evil, she saw death of her best friends and believed that her goal was lost because of attack. I believe that Gabi will change her mind about the whole situation soon.

Yeah, yeah, we all get that she has her own perspective, but she is crazy. She acts out of impulse and has a one track mind

I would like to see Floch shouting with Gabi. Or pushing her off the zeppelin.

gabi saved the manga, let her kill more

GABI CALLED FALCO INTERESTING THINGS DEPENDING ON WHICH TRANSLATION YOU READ. WHICH WOULD YOU WANT ON YOUR TOMBSTONE?

1,685 Responses

Over forty percent thought the Scottish ”You’ve been a great cunt” would summarize their life. An almost equal amount preferred being called either a great bastard or a great friend. Only 17.5% want people to think of them as a great guy once they’re gone.

Surprisingly enough nobody mentioned Falco being a great cunt in the comments. Gabi on the other hand...

HANGE HAS LOST ALL TRUST IN EREN. HAVE YOU?

1,693 Responses

While more than 72% still have confidence in Eren, more than a quarter of the fandom now views him as untrustworthy.

Whatever Eren does, I feel like he's justified because he only has what, a fucking year left and he's just trying to fix what he can. He knows that he is going to die and doesn't give a shit because he cares about the greater good, even if that means losing all his trust from.. well everyone.  

"Hange has lost all trust in Eren. Have you?" I have. If 'Humanity's Greatest Hope' suddenly ran off and had some of our people killed for his own plan, then manipulated us so that we had to go along with said plan, (without trying to 'make a compromise'/'have a mature discussion about it'), I would lose all trust as well.

Everyone's deaths are on Eren's shoulders here.  He went off like a loose cannon and acted on his own, putting everyone at risk.  The Survey Corps losses are his responsibility and his alone.

Excited for the next coz we're most likely see Paradis after 4 years timeskip. I'm still bitch about Hange saying losing their trust in Eren. RIP Sasha Blaus

Eren betrayed their trust, but in return he got what he needed with very minimal casualties. And it's not like he didn't care.

TRAPDOOR-KUN WAS REVEALED TO BE ZEKE’S FOLLOWER YELENA. WE’RE ASKING THE REAL QUESTIONS HERE. IS SHE HOT OR NOT?

1,676 Responses

The “nays” prevailed by a razor thin margin. When we segmented this data by single platform we found Tumblr to be far more appreciative of Yelena’s appearance. 60% of Tumblr users selected “bae”. The opposite was true of Reddit where 62% selected “nay”.

bless this chapter for giving us lesbian Pieck and another ship with a great height difference and blonde/brunette visuals (eruri, yumukuri, kenuri, reibert... I see what you do there, Isayama).

I'd let Yelena lead me to a trap door.

Yelena X Levi

Yelena x Pieck

Yellena/Zeke fics when?

WILL EREN EVER GET HIS SHOE BACK?

1,638 Responses

72% hope the boi gets his shoes back in chapter 106. We have nothing more to say about this, but it’s a good place to drop some of the cracky comments we received.

Did they bring sour cream to the party on the airship?

its laurel not yanny

"THATS IT! NO LOBOV! IM MAKING MY OWN POLL!"

2/10 not enough snails

I've seen official art of Levi being a chef before, I'm wondering what kind of meal he's planning to turn Zeke into. A Beast-Titan Burger? A Zeke Zucchini? Or perhaps an Ackerman sandwich?!

WHAT DO YOU MAKE OF LEVI ALLYING WITH ZEKE?

1,668 Responses

While 17% of the fandom enjoyed Zeke and Levi’s exchange and appreciate their dynamic, 74% agree that Levi is getting no pleasure from this alliance and is cooperating strictly because humanity demands it.

it was really interesting seeing them interact, the tension was palpable and the conversation hilarious (though I know it was pretty serious).

Almost shipping Zevi but I want to keep my pov rational and logical so yeah, they hate each other but they'll work together for the mankind's benefits

As the supreme lord of ironic Zevi shipping, I am torn between that and the canon facts that Levi wants to gut him.

Clearly he is there for Levi's fine ass

I have no real opinion but I’m slightly disheartened by the first option for this answer. This might be one of the more disturbing ships.

He will keep his promise and kill Zeke in the end. Whenever that will be.

I love the hate-flirting but for real, Levi loved Erwin and has to get revenge for him

SNK is going to become the first mainstream goru-omorashi-amputee  yaoi series

They hate each other but have to work with each other given the circumstances but really I'm super into enemies-to-lovers ships

Ohohoho, ahahahaha, ahahhahahahahahahahhahaha. All 3, really.

You guys are disgusting, I hope Zeke dies soon horribly

wtf dude?

DO YOU THINK YELENA IS AN ACKERMAN?

1,679 Responses

Almost 90% of the fandom believe Levi and Mikasa will remain the sole Ackermans of the story. 10% believe Zeke might have found an Ackerman ally of his own.

Hope Yelena is an Ackerman. That way we will have a person whose strength is comparable to Levi or Mikasa, but she is from the enemy party (is it really an enemy party or not. idk even.) It will be very interesting to see if Ackermans work for different sides.

Yelena will 100% be this series Brienne of Tarth, but unfortunately I don't think Zeke will get a redemption arc like Jamie Lannister did.

Chapter 104 Questions

THERE'S BEEN SOME COMPARISONS BETWEEN BERT AND ARMIN'S COLOSSAL TITAN FORMS. WHICH IS TRUE FOR YOU? CHECK ALL THAT APPLY.

The majority feels both Bertolt’s and Armin’s Collosal Titan are a good reflection of their respective owners. 37.8% think both titans are impressive as well. Bert’s (33%) iconic Colossal Titan is prefered over Armin’s (20.7%). When asked which CT is more powerful, four times as many people seem to think Bert’s was. And 21.5% can’t be bothered with this question at all.

DID JEAN HESITATE TO KILL FALCO?

1,646 Responses

Nearly 6 of 10 respondents think Jean hesitated to kill the cinnamon roll. 22.1% think he was ready to shoot a hole in the vanilla bean donut, while about 1 out of 5 people aren’t sure.

jean hesitated to kill falco but he still aimed perfectly at him and pulled the trigger if it wasn’t for pieck shifting the spear direction with her steam falco would have been killed. blown to pieces.

keep the kids away from him will you?

WHAT DID YOU THINK OF THE ARMORED TITAN'S NEW FORM?

1,709 Responses

Just when we thought Reiner couldn’t become any more beautiful, Isayama gives us the doki doki version of the armored titan. Unfortunately only 25.9% agree with us. A similar number of people just want Reiner to die. Maybe it’s because you wish to be his mercy angel, maybe because the unarmored titan now haunts your dreams and you’d like to be able to sleep again. That’s what 26.9% of you at least seem to hope for. Over a fifth of all respondents just wants Beardner back.

Reiner looks good with the beard but isayama doesn’t know how to draw facial hair properly most of the time so i hope it’s gone for good

Just let Reiner die man, he’s gone through so much just let him R E S T

It feels like Reiner half-assed his transformation and what we saw was the result.

RIP plot armor

WHO GOT THE WAR HAMMER TITAN'S POWER?

1,670 Responses

It seems obvious that Eren got the Warhammer titan, but 12.3% of you are still holding out hope that Porco drank the Tybur flavored protein smoothie.

WH’s death was unexpectedly brutal.

I don't see why it's believed that Eren didn't get the warhammer power. You could see the flash that we have seen before, along with the expression in which is the same of when he receives memories.

Why is there still discussion over who got the WHT? We got a very clear shot of Eren getting some sort of "flash" while inside his Titan. I'll watch the live-action movie if I'm wrong.

IS PIECK GOING TO SURVIVE?

1,662 Responses

The verdict is clear: 87.5% think Pieck will live. Let’s hope she’ll be able to meet Yelena again before shifteraids strikes ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).

I know we've seen Ymir survive much worse, but I think Pieck might die. Her pantzersquad is toast, Zeke is gone, I can't imagine Pieck as she is will be useful without either to support her. I think she's on death's door and they're going to try to pass her power onto Colt.

I do hope that Pieck's not gonna die yet.  Isayama already killed a major character. And he once stated in an interview that he would kill jist one for now.

she's probably safe for now, but I don't see what else she'd be needed for story-wise now that she's revealed Zeke was a traitor

I'm mad Pieck is still alive.

WHO WILL BE THE MOST DEPRESSED GOING FORWARD?

1,684 Responses

“You get a clinical depression! And you get a clinical depression! EVERYBODY GETS A CLINICAL DEPRESSION!” More than half of you think Reiner will be the most depressed, while almost a ¼ of all respondents think Connie will be. Porco has about 13% of all votes.Most of you think Pieck will be okay (or more okay than anyone else on the list).

ALL OF THE ABOVE

gheez stop providing me more depressing options

Omg, you are cruel people, I can't choose one

The fans. We cannot watch, yet we cannot look away.

the state of all the Survey Corps members (except for Floch, fuck him) is, in my opinion, the worst. Reiner's is obviously horrible, too; but for some reason, the fact that he's so okay with giving up almost makes me less worried about him. Death, for me, has always been sadder when the person who passed had adamantly wanted to stay alive.

when Reiner wakes up and wants to die because of everything that happened, let me die with him

A couple years ago one Connie was half of Reiner in terms of height, and now he has half of Braun's agony, great character development for my boy

I think Sasha dying was something that needed to happen but can Connie catch a fucking break, Isayama, holy shit

Me T____T

WHERE DO YOU PRIMARILY DISCUSS THE SERIES?

1,665 Responses

Reddit reigns supreme, but compared to previous months, Tumblr is up 5% while Reddit is down the same amount. Discord participation is also up marginally.

ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS ON THE CHAPTER?

314 Responses

We received over 300 responses, and several of those weren’t even in English:

Должен же уже кто-то наказать Эрена?

Кто-то должен наказать тебя за ответ не на английском.

PAS SASHAAAAAA VOUS AVIEZ PAS LE DROIT DE LA TUERRRRRR :'''''''(

Où était éditeur-kun?

Jokes aside, enjoy more of the comments from this chapter:

Finally, the meat of the story

We got dem zekerets

I'm really worried about this new Eldian empire, that is not going to go well. So many questions to ask about what was happening on the Paradis side during the timeskip, I think it is time for some flashbacks in the next couple of chapters.

Fuck this whole depressing reality.

I just really want Zeke to die at this point. I don't care how he's working with Eren or the SC. It's his fault Erwin died, he ruins everything, he fucked over Reiner and Bert, and he's obviously going to fuck over the SC too.

I feel like everyone will (soon) have to come to terms with the fact that the Yeagerbros' plan was the right/only choice, as shown by them going silent after Eren and Zeke point out the benefit of this operation.

I refuse sasha's death

CHARACTERS ARE DYING AGAIN!!! I AM HAPPY WHILE SOBBING!!!!!!

I feel that everyone jumps to conclusions EVERY chapter, because you’d think we’d know by now that not everything is what it seems and Isayama enjoys messing with us.

I think this chapter was not criticized enough. It was basically a vomit of revelations strung together with some cliche plot

I wonder how Historia will react to Gabi and Falco upon learning of Sasha's death. I'm also curious to see how she will react seeing Eren again and meeting her relative from overseas. You know where these thoughts are going: I want to see older Historia next chapter!

Levi beating the shit out of eren is Big Mood

I'm really not upset with Jean; it's unfair of him to say that, but he's always used anger as a way of dealing with things; the fact that Eren has fucked up already makes it easy to redirect his anger.

Dina is alive and Zeke is visiting her for mother's day

It's good to see that the SC members still have their minds right (except Flocke, but he's a fucking meme), and I hope to see how Hanji acts. I've seen her too impotent in this chapter, unlike how she was in Kenny's arc.

Petition to let Levi enjoy his 40s onwards in goddamn peace.

I believe the end almost always justifies the means, but the thing is... it's important to plan, to avoid any unnecessary evils. Impulsive and reckless natures always annoy me because they often don't avoid those unnecessary evils, if anything they cause more.

Why do Hange and Levi suck at aging?

105 killed me and then killed me again. but then zevi being officially canon and jaegerbros interaction revived me and sudddenly everything is ok. anyways, kidding aside, it was really interesting to see the changes in the sc members' relationship and dynamics with eren, especially armin and levi 👀

105 is absolutely my least favorite chapter this arc. so rushed and boring.

for the god of love please let Levi die. Being forced to work with the man he swore to kill is just humiliating.

I can't wait for Levi to kill Zeke.  Part of me worries Isayama is gonna rob him of that chance because fuck happy endings but maaaaaaaan I hope it's epic.

The grand ironic tragedy. An Eldian believing anti-Eldian propaganda kills another Eldian to avenge Eldian friends.

Where the hell is annie

It was great, hoping for an information dump next chapter, along with Annie returning soon and Reiner suffering even more (is that even possible?) after he's now pretty much lost everything he cared about.

Zeke's "free Eldia" line is shady af

Zevi is real, but not really. Protect Gabi at all costs. Flock is my boy. Zeke is trash but also god.

I hated it, and I hate this arc, and I hate all the side characters, and I don't care about any of it, and I can't freaking believe Isayama made Eren turn his back on all the morals Eren is BUILT on. I feel betrayed. So angry.

Boring chapter the only thing i enjoyed was gabi being an absolute badass. zeke and levi’s conversation was cringy af.

I just need the Warriors and Warrior Cadets to be okay and ALIVE throughout the series to the very end. I can't wait to learn more about Yelena and if Porco actually got the War Hammer, while it's unlikely, I've been wrong before.

The story feels completely different than it did when I first got into it. I’m wondering how Isayama plans to wrap things up after everything we’ve seen.

I just have so many feels for this chapter. After all the action in the previous ones, this one landed a punch straight in my gut. Thanks, Yams, I hate this.

I'm glad the battle is over. This turn of events offers new perspectives around. Between Falco and Gabi going to Paradis, Zeke probably having his own goal, Marley rebuilding after purging the unnecessary elements, there's plenty of material for a final arc.

Can we get the next one please? I can't take all these damn cliffhangers. I WANNA FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT!

this was an excellent chapter. The tension felt from the scenes in it was so strong you could slice it. Connie's reaction is quite heartbreaking and frankly, I felt quite uncomfortable just seeing the looks Armin gave Eren and Mikasa. They've all changed quite a bit. Even when Jean blames Eren for Sasha's fate, I felt like it was more out of grief than ire.

Can't wait for Reiner to come back

I had genuinely hoped that over time, more people would sympathize with Gabi, especially since shes a kid and has worked her ass off to make a better life for her and her family. Turns out, people only seem to hate her more now. I'm not thrilled that she killed Sasha but in her perspective she's an enemy and part of the reason her friends and allies were killed. War has two sides, people! That's kinda the whole point of the marley arc…

The new chapters are my sole reason for living now

I've been seeing a lot of hatred for Gabi this month, but I honestly can't get mad at her. It's understandable for people to be angry (especially big Sasha fans), but I really feel bad for all the shit she's gone through and how completely brainwashed she is.

each chapter makes me love and appreciate the warriors even more

I`ve seen people saying this chapter is the worst because of how easily Levi and Zeke "became friends”  and are provoking each other. To me, it's clear that Eren forced the survey corps to capture Zeke to fulfill his unknown agenda, and that Levi hasn't forgiven Zeke for what he did to Erwin + 200 other Survey Corps members. I also hope that Zeke is just continuing Eren Krueger's secret plan (giving the Attack Titan to Grisha so he can get the Founding Titan while Zeke stays on Marley as a double agent). That would be the most badass plan in all history.

DO U EVEN READ THESE

We read each and every comment!

Thank you for participating. The poll for chapter 106 will go up on June 10th!  

[aphorisnt]

PadawanBen Continuation Part 3

Here it is, the not very long probably not awaited third part of my continuation of the PadawanBen saga. Thanks again to @swpromptsandasks for allowing me to finish her story and play in the sandbox she created.

This part is about 1000 words (all under the cut), so not too bad, and same as always, any feedback you fine folks could give a fic-writing newbie would be hella appreciated!!

Also: tw for description of panic attack. If that’s triggering for you but you still wanna read, skip the beginning and go right to the single sentence paragraph “Where is he?” and you should be safe. I’ll bold it too so it’s easy to find. I promise you’re not missing anything plotty, just emotional character stuff (sorry, I kinda live for that shit so there’s a lot of it).

(Part 1/Part 2/Part 4)

Anakin’s heart stopped. For a moment, everything seemed to slow down around him–sound muffled and far away; the Jedi around him seemed to move at an exaggerated pace, like doing katas at half speed; and he felt a lifetime pass between hearing the news–Oh, Force, Ben!–and falling to the floor. Everything looked like it was under water. He felt like he was underwater, drowning, unable to get air into his lungs. He was vaguely aware of someone speaking but he couldn’t make out the words.

He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t feel anything but mind numbing, all-consuming fear for Ben. His Ben. Kind, beautiful, loving Ben with his biting sense of humor and sunny smile that never failed to make Anakin melt and deep love–because it was love, attachment be damned–for those closest to him. His husband, his reason for getting up every day and continuing to fight this kriffing war, his love.

Ben was gone.

Sound started to slowly come back and the voice from before became clearer. Someone–Qui-Gon?–was saying his name over and over again. In the background he heard more yelling and the sound of someone sobbing, but he tried to focus on that one voice, following it back to dry land.

“–nakin! Anakin, it’s ok, just breathe. Listen to me, it’s going to be ok and we’re going to find him, but right now I just need you to breathe. Can you do that for me, Ani?”

“Qui…Gon?” Anakin managed to choke out.

“Yes, Ani, it’s me. I’ve got you; we’re gonna make everything ok. But first I need you to breathe with me. Can you do that? Just nod if you can do that with me.”

Anakin nodded, head feeling disconnected from his body.

“All right, now in…and out. And in…good, Ani…and out. And in…”

Slowly, carefully, Anakin came back to himself, his breathing stabilizing and the flow of time around him returning to normal. He reached up a hand and realized his cheeks were damp, belatedly understanding that the sobbing he heard earlier had been him.

“Ok, Ani, good, now let me help you sit up.”

With one hand on his chest and another on his back, Qui-Gon lifted Anakin back into a sitting position, keeping the hand firmly on his back to keep his former Padawan upright. He grabbed a corner of his cloak and reached out to dry Anakin’s tears, whispering comforting endearments all the while.

Anakin felt exhausted, like someone had poked a hole in his side and his very life force had drained out of him. His head hurt, his chest felt tight, and his heart ached. Some part of him knew he should feel self-conscious for completely losing it in front of the entire council but right now he couldn’t care less.

“Are you ready to stand up?” Qui-Gon asked gently.

“Yeah, Anakin replied weakly, nodding his head.

“Ok, I’m gonna lift you up  now; one…two…three!”

Qui-Gon pulled him onto unsteady feet and Anakin rocked in place for a moment before regaining his balance. Qui-Gon still kept a steadying hand on his back, just in case.

A modicum of composure regained, Anakin turned to face the council and ground out the only question on his mind:

“Where is he?”

“We don’t know,” Mace replied, for once choosing not to dress Anakin down for an emotional outburst in the council chamber. “But–“

“That’s not good enough!” Anakin shouted hoarsely. “We need to find him right now. He’s sick, he could be dying!” Harsh anger began to heat his blood, replacing the icy numbness of fear.

“We don’t know, but,” Mace said, holding up a hand to keep Anakin from interrupting again, “we do have an idea.”

“Based on what you told us earlier, about Palpatine, the Sith, and that legend, we think there is a distinct possibility the Sith could be involved in his disappearance,” Kit Fisto offered. “Or I suppose now it would be more of a kidnapping. Regardless, we don’t have any other leads just yet. We do have some of our best people searching the Halls and anywhere else in the temple for evidence and Master Drallig is heading the investigation into any possible security breaches, but Master Windu only sent them out a few minutes ago so it’s going to likely be a few hours before we have more information. For now, the Sith is the best lead we have.”

“Well then what are we waiting for?” challenged Anakin. “Let’s go! Palpatine has to have some idea of where Ben is since he’s connected to the Sith. We have to go confront him right now so we can save Ben!”

Anakin was already on the move, heading for the door with lightsaber hilt in hand, before Mace stopped him with a word.

“No.”

Anakin whirled around to face the councilor, furious.

“’No!?’ What do you mean, ‘No!?’”

“I mean, we still can’t just burst into the Chancellor’s office, lightsabers at the ready, and arrest him when we don’t even have any evidence that he is indeed involved. We already discussed the dangers of a violent confrontation and the need for a more subtle investigation, and this development doesn’t change that.”

“Mace is correct,” Plo agreed. “Skywalker–Anakin, I know you want to find Ben. I want to find him too; the vode adore him and we need to get their little brother back. But if we want to find him we can’t act rashly and need to come up with a plan.”

Anakin was getting ready to protest again when Qui-Gon interrupted his thoughts.

“Padawan, they’re right.” Anakin stared at him with a look of utter betrayal but Qui-Gon pressed on. “With the Sith involved we need to be careful. If you just burst in you could spook both Palpatine and the Sith Master, and then who knows what they might do to keep us from finding Ben.”

Anakin’s eyes widened; he hadn’t considered that.

“Ok, then what do we do?” he asked.

“Plan, we must,” answered Yoda. “Find a way to get information from the Chancellor, we must.”

“That’s why we have these council meetings, Skywalker,” offered Stass Allie. “So we can plan how to deal with threats like this.”

________________________________________________________________

Some distance away in the rec room of clone barracks, Tup suddenly stood up, jarring the table where he and Fives had been playing sabacc. His eyes were distant and unfocused and his mouth was pressed into a thin line.

“Tup? Brother?” Fives asked. “Are you ok? What’s wrong?”

Hearing the urgency in his vod’s voice, Kix stepped over, ready to intervene.

“Tup? Can you hear me?”

Tup’s gaze stayed focused on something in the middle distance and he didn’t answer Fives’s question.

Instead, he only responded with, “Good soldiers follow orders.”

[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

The Vex! Wanderings in Lore

Ghost: Ew. This looks like the stuff inside the Vex.

Failsafe: It's called Radiolaria. You know, mind fluid!

Ghost: Ikora says it's an organic compound, which means the Vex are not pure robot.

Destiny 2: Mission Six

I posted the other day about Thanatonauts in the lore because I wanted to learn about them before Curse of Osiris drops. Because I understand so little about the Vex I thought I should probably do the same for them -- their origins, functionality and abilities. To me, they’re the least comprehensible of the Destiny antagonists. I understand them better having written this and I hope you feel the same way after you read it!

From the grimoire:

The Vex are architects of ancient and complex structures thought to be buried within every celestial body. Linked by a network unlike any on Earth, they operate in unison, directed by a single unfathomable purpose.

The basics that we all know from gameplay are that the Vex are a hostile race of war machines found across our system. They are highly intelligent, can do funny things with time and space and are capable of rapidly converting entire planets, so far Mercury and Nessus in our system, into Machine Worlds. From the Eye of a Gate Lord mission, 

During the Collapse, the Vex transformed the planet Mercury into a machine in days.

The Vex have a biological basis called Radiolaria. Radiolaria are a real thing found on earth, microscopic multi-cellular organisms with complex mineral skeletons. They live in the ocean and after they die they cover the ocean floor and are fossilised into rock. They are a silica-based life form (as opposed to carbon-based, which is what most life on earth is). Silicates are found abundantly throughout the solar system and this may be the reason why the Vex are able to transforms whole worlds so rapidly, by directly manipulating the silica that makes up a planet’s crust. (Thanks to Ghost Stories, A Destiny Podcast: Vault of Glass #3 for this theory.)

It’s the Radiolaria which give the Vex their intelligence and their hive mind. The structures we see (and shoot) are the metal bodies they have created and inhabit. What splashes out (and what makes Osiris’ Sunbracers glow white) is radiolaria.

The Vex got into our reality when Crota cut a tear in space and allowed Quria, a Vex Mind, through, as detailed in the Books of Sorrow here and here. 

With his sword Crota cut open a new wound, into a new space. In here he thought he might obtain a secret power. Out of this wound came machines called Vex. They invaded Oryx’s throne world.

The Vex slaughtered thousands of Hive despite Crota’s best efforts to close the gate. Quria learned worship from the Hive and that it could be used as a means of control and subjugation. Throughout the game we often see the Vex engaged in what looks like reverence and prayer. 

You can’t talk about the Vex without delving into quantum physics and then getting tied up in jargon like ‘paracausal’ and ‘ontopathogenesis’. There are Reddit posts and podcasts that discuss the philosophy and physics of the Vex across space and time, but you know what? Reading them and listening to them doesn’t induce in me a warm feeling of understanding. I suspect that a lot of the people who write these posts/lead these discussions don’t truly understand what they’re saying either, or to what purpose. Destiny lore is notoriously vague. Quantum physics is notoriously complex. To quote the lore itself:

We are ill-equipped to understand an entity that defies simple causality. Let us accept these limitations and proceed.

Causality plays a big part in ‘understanding’ the Vex. They defy logical causality as we experience it, i.e. for us, an event has to happen before we experience the result. It doesn’t seem to be that way for the Vex. From the same card:

If physics is a set of rules that the cosmos uses to calculate itself, perhaps the Vex seek to worm their way into these calculations: to become a law of reality, inseparable from existence. A virus in the system.

Also, from the Hezen Protective Vex unit card:

The Protective is clearly engaged in a colossal project, but as with much Vex behaviour, it's unclear whether their ultimate purpose is even comprehensible to us. The Protective may be reacting to an event that has yet to occur, or working towards a goal that -- to us -- is already historical fact.

And that’s pretty much enough about Vex space and time for me. 

So, how intelligent are the Vex? Probably the creepiest part of all the lore is Ghost Fragment: Vex parts I-V. The fragments concern a group of scientists working at the Ishtar Academy during the Golden Age who are experimenting on a Vex unit. The unit reveals its mind to a researcher and she discovers it’s running a real-time simulation of the scientists:

ESI: It controls the simulation. It can hurt our simulated selves. We wouldn't feel that pain, but rationally speaking, we have to treat an identical copy's agony as identical to our own. SUNDARESH: It's god in there. It can simulate our torment. Forever. If we don't let it go, it'll put us through hell.

And then,

SHIM: Odds are that we aren't our own originals. Odds are that we exist in one of the Vex simulations right now.

The Vex clearly have a fantastic ability to simulate and predict, but can they simulate everything? From the Destiny 2: Deep Conversation mission:

Ghost: That Mind said one last thing as it died. It’s afraid. Afraid of your Light -- the one thing in this galaxy it can’t simulate.

What implications does this have? Perhaps Guardians are the fly in their Vex milk. The Vex aren’t able to predict of what the Light is capable. Ikora seems to repeat this in the Curse of Osiris trailer as well, when she says, “You are the one thing they have not foreseen.”

The Vex have a strange physical and mental influence on Guardians. A report from a human Guardian to Executor Hideo about visiting the Lighthouse on Mercury reads:

All of us began to depart from ordinary experience. My Exo teammate described the sense that she was buried beneath an enormous, operating mass -- locked up in a tiny crevasse at the bottom of a labyrinth or mechanism. My Awoken teammate felt an ongoing sense of deja vu: her actions were precessed by an infinite echo, an anticipation of all her choices. She became volatile and erratic. She insisted that we were surrounded. I remember a low ringing sound and a sense of numb filth, like gravel rubbed into a wound. I experienced a sense of immanence, as if I was bleeding into the world around me. It was uncomfortable and profoundly alienating. I perceived all my actions as determined and inevitable.

Cult of Osiris members and the Sunbreakers have been existing on the Machine World of Mercury for hundreds of cycles so I wonder if this has affected them.  It makes me wonder if this is why Commander Zavala refused to allow the Sunbreakers to come to the City, because he believed that the Sunbreakers were ‘infected’ by the Vex. Or maybe Zavala just doesn’t like people who shun the City only to change their minds about it later. 

There are several examples in the lore that show the Vanguard, particularly Ikora, are wary of the Vex and admit they don’t fully understand them. From the Curse of Osiris trailer:

While we have been fighting, an ancient gate has opened on Mercury, and an army of past and future machines amasses. They intend to reshape the universe in their image. 

But there is one who has glimpsed this dark future. He was my mentor. Osiris. The most notorious Guardian in Vanguard history. Once, his dangerous ideas nearly destroyed us, and he was banished. Now he has returned, but will he be a powerful ally, or bring us death?

It seems like the Vanguard has been put in a very difficult position. They fear the intelligence and inscrutability of the Vex, and they also distrust ‘mad’, unpredictable Warlocks who have shown unwillingness in the past to put the interests of the City first. But it seems that when it comes to this potential dark future they’ve got no choice but to put a measure of trust in Osiris. 

Thank you for reading! I hope you found this useful.