#also not to be too theorist or anything but like. i wonder if anyone tried to get Nishitani help or if they let him die.

[dilfkuza]

watching Nishitani's death scene always leaves me devastated. like noooo king you can't die you haven't gotten your rocks off in a decent fight yet

[misunhye]

MISUN WITH NCT DREAM

word count 250+ each

note if you have anything you want to request for misun, please let me know!! <3

Mark. [ Marksun …? ]

Embarrassingly enough, Mark was one of her first hardcore crushes. The two met when Misun joined SM a few months after he did, and even though he definitely knew who she was when another trainee introduced her to him by saying “You know Kang Sumin’s affair daughter?” to him, he didn’t treat her badly. And, so, of course; she was twelve—thirteen years-old at the time and fell in love with anyone that gave her the slightest bit of attention. Yet, because she was this pre-teen girl, she dealt with her crush by making fun of him and acting like she hated him. Eventually, she grew out of the crush and started viewing Mark more as an older brother. She apologized for her actions, but never explained why she said those things, so everyone else thought it was because of jealousy. Ever since, she’s always looked up to him for advice, even though he was only a year older than her and he joined SM a few months before her. She always gets his opinion before deciding on anything regarding her career. She likes to make fun of him, similar to an actual sibling relationship, finding his reaction too funny not to. But she really does hold a lot of respect for him, debuting so young and already being looked up to as a leader, she knew it must be hard. She tries her best to be there for him, but she knows he likes to hold the weight of the entire world on his shoulders before handing it off to anyone else. She’s always looking for his approval 1/2. The first time anyone ever saw her cry, including NCT, was during Mark’s graduation speech. Misun is the little sister he never thought he needed.

Renjun. [ Minjun / Sunjun ..? ]

Misun is literally the founder of the I Love Renjun club; she was the first trainee he ever met. She can and will fight Haechan for his affection, and unfortunately for Haechan, most of the time, she gets it. Even if it’s in the most subtle ways; placing a hand on her knee or arm, grabbing her hand and squeezing briefly. These two are such conspiracy theorists, it’s crazy. She introduced him to Buzzfeed Unsolved when it first came out and every new episode, they’d watch. Now that it’s over, she sends him TikToks of conspiracy theories. My favorite delusionals. At first, Renjun thought they wouldn’t get along but after seeing how much interests they shared, it’s no wonder. It’s often thought that she’s the one chasing after him, but really, it’s definitely the opposite. He doesn’t usually dote on her but she’s the only one he’ll mostly allow to dote on him. He’ll bat her affection away but then beg for it a few seconds later once she starts paying attention to someone else. He’s just too shy to outright say he wants her attention. They’re always on the same wavelength, often thinking of the same thing and saying it at the same time. They, and NCTzens, genuinely believe they have a connection and can read each other’s minds. She can always go to him to put her in place when she’s acting up or being too delusional. She can also always go to him to help her with ideas for other members, like birthday gifts, etc. He always defends her when another member says something (lightheartedly) to her, and most definitely does when an anti is being an anti. Sunshine and sunshine protector.

Jeno. [ Jensun ]

Misun was so shy around him 1/2. She found him to be cute, and very quiet— not unusually, since she always was, but she’d literally never speak in front of him. He was shy, too, so he’d never talk to her, either, even though he was curious about her. It was just like a celebrity crush, because they weren’t very close at first. She got nervous when she realized she’d have to interact with him when they’d debut, and Haechan forced her to talk to Jeno. She has never regretted it. He’s usually one of the first to scold her because he’s literally the only one she always listens to when she’s acting up. He’s so doting on her, you’d think he was way older than her. There are so many compilations of Nomin being her bodyguards/parents. Probably the only member that will willingly go out with her whenever without complaints because she never asks Jaemin and she also knows he can rarely ever say no to her 1/2. She likes to use it to her advantage. She can always count on Jeno to be there for her when she needs him, and vice versa. He’s the protective brother, but he’s also the cool one. He lets her do her own thing, while also somehow protecting her subtly. Neither usually don’t speak out a lot against strangers but they are literally the meme “He asked for no pickles” for each other. He always encourages her to do things but never pushes. He has only ever been disappointed in her once, and she wishes she could forget all about it or go back in time and do it over again. She’s always looking for his approval 2/2.

Haechan. [ Haesun / Sunhyuck …? ]

These two are … literally chaotic. They’re the evil duo. When you see them together, run. They’re so hot and cold it’s funny. One second they’re playfully or for real arguing, the next they're acting like nothing happened. Their relationship was not like this at the start, the two clashed harshly and Misun was actually jealous of him because she thought he was just so good at everything and was so cocky about it. He thought the same but that she was so effortlessly good at everything (in his eyes). It was bad, neither could be in the same room together for years. It took Mark and Johnny forcing them in a closet together and locking the door for them to talk their rivalry out. However, neither of the older two knew that Misun was claustrophobic. It really took Haechan to calm her down for both to realize that maybe they should put their rivalry aside. Their relationship is barely ever serious besides when it’s called for. Surprisingly, sometimes he gives her good advice (even if she doesn’t ask for it). Admittedly, he brings the best and worst out of her. Haechan is the one who brought her out of her shell during their trainee days, making her make friends with the others. He pushes her to do things she’d never usually do in public but also knows when to stop. Like with all the other members, he ‘flirts’ with her (not during debut, never, but later in the years … yeah) and she responds with an insult or deflects. There was one time she blushed at his words and he (nor do NCTzens because it was on camera!) never lets her forget it.

Jaemin. [ Jaemsun / Jaemhye …? ]

Misun was so shy around him 2/2. She honestly thought he was an angel sent to Earth. (He is. He’s her guardian angel.) She would stutter when he talked to her, because he always tried to get to know her more. He eventually broke through her wall and … wow. Immediately best friends, they made everyone else so jealous of how well they got along and quickly. They understand each other way too much, they’re so similar it’s actually kind of scary. They never have to talk, they can just chill by each other in silence, doing their own thing and they’re fine with that. She goes to him the most for advice for the more personal things and he listens. He’s helped her so much in healing and her personal family problems. It literally crushed her when he went on hiatus and hates remembering memories from that time when NCT Dream weren’t complete. They were also each other’s first kiss because neither of them had kissed anyone and wanted to know what it was like. There was a period of time when they crushed on each other at the same time but missed anything real happening because they knew they’d be better off as friends and didn’t want to ruin anything. They don’t talk about it, but they know, and it’s kind of like a “what if?” He is literally so whipped by her. He spoils the crap out of her, literally like a sugar daddy. Despite them being only months apart, he acts like an older brother and is always taking care of her. He makes sure she’s ate, slept well, hydrated, etc. He can rarely say no to her 2/2. They are literally the embodiment of twin flames.

Chenle. [ Sunle …? ]

The number one pain in her ass. He’s another member that she didn’t like immediately, thinking he thought too highly of himself due to him already technically being famous before joining SM. He didn’t really hate her back, he just acted like he did because she did. She was genuinely so hard for him to understand, and eventually, he thought he did come to an understanding of her character. These two are constantly arguing, NCTzens would be concerned they actually hate each other, but from their actions, they know they don’t. Chenle just likes to get on her nerves, even more than Haechan does. He’s like a kid who is mean to his crush and pulls on her pigtails. They are literally the Tom and Jerry of NCT. He’s the actual devil, she likes to think, but she’s seen him when he thinks no one is looking. He likes to act like he’s older, and very rarely ever calls her noona; not that she really cares. He loves the game “Yaja Time” and uses it to his advantage, even though it’s really no different from their usual since they’ve dropped all formalities. They are never affectionate with each other on camera, it’s always awkward brushing of skin and snatching their hands away like they just got burned. The reason they got past their ‘hatred’ was because of Jisung. If she wanted Jisung, she had to have Chenle. If he wanted Jisung, he had to have Misun. Now, they can’t ever remember a time when they were apart and don’t know why they would want to be ever again.

Jisung. [ Sunsung / Minsung ]

Her angel. She took an immediate liking to him when they first met, thinking he was so adorable. If she was bad at his age, he was even worse. She convinced him to see her as just a friend, not an older sister, because she knew both of them needed some. They’ve seen each other at their worst and best, despite the age difference. He called her noona when they first met, but he’s dropped all formalities early on in their friendship and only really began doing it again for their debut and then stopped again. She likes to take him to fun places like the arcade and ice skating and other things so she can heal his childhood self. She pretends like she’s begging him to go because she wants to, but really, it’s for him. Neither really had a childhood due to debuting so young. Jisung always reminds her that her childhood was taken, too, way before his ever was because of her family problems. He reminds her it’s OK to be a kid every once in awhile. She is his number one hypewoman, she loves everything he does. She tells him almost everything, and they both calm each other down when they get too into the “what if?” scenarios. A hug from him, and all her problems are gone. They’re each other’s protector. She’s one of the only ones to rarely baby him, but when she does, he knows it’s just her way of showing she cares because she does it to the other members, too. He probably takes care of her more than she does him, weirdly. He takes a special pride in being her protector.

masterlist.

[comfortabletogether]

Hey. I looooooove your work and I was wondering if you could do some celebrating their S/o's bday hcs with kokoro, hibiki and kanade (separate) ? Thank you if you could do it also have a nice day or night.

thank you for requesting!! This ended up being a short blurb and not Headcanons but I doubt anyone is going to complain.

Anyways, have a good day/night to you as well!! It’s currently 4:40am as I write this, I just slept for several hours so I’m good don’t worry.

IMPLIED SPOILERS IN KANADE’S

~ Mod Haruhiko ✈️

Hibiki Otonokoji

‘Hey sweetie, do you mind if I come over at 3pm?’ Hibiki woke up to your text buzzing on her phone.

Hibiki had blanked out, she had barely remembered the last two days and when she woke up in the morning Hibiki had seen the notification that it was your birthday. Hibiki didn’t have anything prepared, did that make her a bad girlfriend?

She already knew the answer as she ran out the door not even listening to her sister’s objections, or questions of where Hibiki was going or why. Kanade didn’t need to know everything single thing Hibiki was doing.

It was 10:41am, perfect! Hibiki could do a little shopping and set up her room for you before you were coming over. Hibiki went around only the best places buying you clothes, makeup, shoes and whatever other essentials to fuel your hobbies. And she had also bought some ribbons of your favorite color to decorate her room.

By the time you got to her house, she wasn’t exactly done setting it up. Hibiki didn’t even have time to wraps the gifts, but it was still so sweet.

“You didn’t have to do this.” You smile, looking at the dolled up Hibiki, who gave you a necklace that had the same sixteenth note she wore.

“But I wanted to.”

Kokoro Mitsume 

“Koko, put the icing down.” You smile endearingly at Kokoro’s attempts to frost the cake. It was a sticky yet colorful and delicious mess that looked like it was some color theorist’s final project. 

Kokoro had tried to write your name and happy birthday on the side of the cake but the two of you must have messed up the recipe for the icing as it ran down the crumbling side of the cake.

The two of you definitely messed it up.

“Hm? What’s wrong?” Kokoro inquired, wiping her hands that had icing smeared in them off on a nearby hand towel. She had a small smile painted on her face, she was pleased not just with you, but with how the cake is going.

“If you don’t like the cake we can always just buy one from the store. It isn’t the most— pleasing looking cake.” Kokoro remarked.

With her words you pressed a kiss onto Kokoro’s cheek, causing her to raise her towel up to shield her red hot face.

It wasn’t often that the typically stoic Kokoro blushed but it was the cutest side ever when she did.

“I love you, Kokoro. This is the best birthday ever.”

Kanade Otonokoji

“Watch it! It’s my partners birthday.” Kanade yelled at the stage manager that had told you you couldn’t go backstage, despite the fact he knew you and had seen you many times before.

“Are my sister and I seriously in need of a new stage manager? We just lost our old one too! How incompetent are you that you can’t even follow basic instructions.” Kanade continued to chew the man out.

“Kana, I think we’re good. And you don’t have to fire him over me.” You tell Kanade placing a hand onto her shoulder to try and calm her down.

Kanade stared at you with a lovesick look in her eyes before turning back to the stage manager.

“You’re lucky.”

The stage manager, now fearing for his life, ran off. Probably to go check in with Hibiki and how she is doing. And once he was gone Kanade’s face turned bright again.

“I’m sorry about that! Happy Birthday, S/O!” Kanade grinned wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you into a hug. Before you could say anything back to her she kissed your face probably a thousand times.

“Thank you—“

“Don’t thank me yet! You haven’t even seen the presents!” Kanade cheerfully smiled before pulling you off to her dressing room.

[bubblytarts]

What if...

*NONE OF THIS IS CANON. I JUST THOUGHT THIS WOULD BE A COOL CONCEPT FOR TALES. IF ANY OF THIS BECOMES CANON, I EXPECT KARL JACOBS HIMSELF TO GIVE ME A SHOUTOUT*

You’re watching Tales from the SMP on Tuesday. You can’t wait to see what all the secrets are that Karl has teased lore-wise. The stream begins. Karl is super excited to show chat what he’s come up with, and the stream begins.

The build is massive, and incredibly detailed. You already know that the theorists are going to have a field day with all the little details.

You meet the players. Some are playing original characters, while there are some familiar faces as well. Ranboo, Tubbo, Fundy, and Quackity are all playing original characters. Bad appears to be playing himself, but he’s acting off. 

All of them have slightly altered skins. Time has obviously passed, as they all look a bit older, a bit more weary.

You’re waiting to see the two new players that Karl had teased. One decides then to make his appearance. It’s Philza. He’s playing himself. His skin is unchanged. Karl chooses not to comment on this. Phil mentions that Karl has been missing for years. Karl manages to change the subject. 

The second new player is not revealed yet.

The story seems to be a play on Phasmophobia. Whatever ghost is haunting the place is aggressive towards the characters, but not enough to ever truly harm them. 

Bad, however, continues to act strange. The characters don’t notice the increasing amounts of crimson blocks in the area. Chat, however, does.

The players solve enough puzzles to continue into the heart of the mansion, and they come face to face with the skull room from Karl’s screenshot. 

Waiting in the room, is Wilbur. 

More accurately, Wilbur, playing Alivebur. 

Karl is rightfully shocked, and chat is exploding. You’re shaking. Bad and Phil don’t seem too surprised to see Wilbur, while the original characters don’t seem to know who he is. 

You listen as Wilbur vaguely explains that he was resurrected, but you don’t have enough details to really understand how. Tumblr is already blowing up. 

Bad then vaguely references the Egg. Karl finally notices the crimson. He’s not pleased. Bad tries to attack Karl, but the others protect him, and Bad is forced to step back.

The overall story of what happened in the past few years is full of holes that Wilbur, Phil, and Bad won’t answer. The original characters don’t seem to know anything about the SMP, Disc Wars, or the Egg. It’s lightly implied that since Ranboo, Tubbo, Fundy, and Quackity aren’t playing themselves, that they must have died, or been otherwise out of contact with Phil and Bad. 

Chat mentions that it’s eerily similar to how little everyone knew about the Disc Wars in Mizu. The only other information that is given is that at some point, Dream broke out of prison. This is brushed off far too fast for anyone’s comfort. 

Karl accuses Wilbur of trying to kill them, but Wilbur is confused. He didn’t know they were here. 

Chat starts to spam Dream and Techno’s names, but the clues Phil and Bad give point to someone else. 

Phil tells the story of Dream breaking out of prison, and how many went to stop him and take his last life. It’s implied that Tommy and possibly Tubbo both died this way. 

Phil mentions at the end of the story how everyone who tried, died once and gave up. Except for one. There was one person who lost all three lives to Dream, because they wouldn’t give up.

Karl is confused, but chat figured it out since you all found out Dream escaped. Someone was missing.

Someone calls Karl’s name, and he turns around. Sapnap stands there, with a skin similar to his normal one, but with the same muted colors that Wilbur had when he became Ghostbur. 

Ghostnap was responsible for the injuries to the players. He was trying to get them out before anyone discovered they were at the mansion.

Before there can even be a proper emotional scene, the sounds of TNT go off outside the room. The door explodes, and Dream walks in wearing full enchanted netherite. He’s playing himself.  

Ghostnap yells for Karl to follow him. Karl does immediately, and chat is left to wonder the fates of the other characters. That is, until messages pop up in the game chat:

Quackity was slain by BadBoyHalo

BadBoyHalo was slain by Ph1LzA

Ranboo was slain by Dream using Nightmare

ItsFundy hit the ground too hard trying to escape Dream

Tubbo_ was slain by Dream using Axe of Peace

The messages end after that. The use of the Axe of Peace is not lost on chat. The implications are not good. 

As far as you know, Wilbur and Phil survive. They continue to yell in the voice chat before abruptly cutting out. However, the game chat doesn’t say that they died or left the game. 

Ghostnap leads Karl to a nether portal. Karl tries to ask him how he can help, and admits that he’s a time traveller, since Sapnap in the past won’t remember this. He also makes an off-hand quip about his memory loss.

Ghostnap doesn’t know if Karl even can fix the story. But he encourages him to try. But not at the cost of himself. He begs Karl to promise him that he’ll talk to someone in the present about the Tales so that they can help him. Karl tells him that he will.

Chat points out that Karl doesn’t promise. 

Dream appears at the end of the hallway, stares for a few seconds, then starts sprinting towards them. Karl goes into the portal, and his face cam turns off.

The pre-filmed section of the Inbetween begins. Karl appears in the nether portal in the Inbetween shown in the Twitter screenshot. Karl’s hair is beginning to turn white. The Inbetween repeats its calming messages again. 

There are several Karls running around, but it seems to be a fewer number than the last time. 

There is a secret room that Karl discovers when he presses the pressure plate. It leads him to another hallway. There is one main hallway, brightly lit, and there are several smaller, darker tunnels branching off of it. It’s impossible to see what lies down the tunnels.

Don’t stray from the path, chat helpfully reminds.

Karl walks down the main path. There is a wither rose at the end of the path.

As he walks past the tunnels, just over the music, there seem to be voices. Chat can’t agree on who the voices sound like. They are all different. But there are a few recognizable ones. Chat yells Ranboo, Sir Billiam, Wilbur, Crops, James, Jack Kanoff, Tubbo, Ranbob, Bad, Liaria, Ghostnap, Dream. 

They yell quotes ripped from the audio of previous Tales. Karl turns towards each of the tunnels, but always continues after a moment.

The voices grow more persistent. They start to say things that you don’t recognize. This is original audio now. The eerie piano has stopped. They are whispering not to stray from the path. For Karl to run. For Karl to come back. To remember. To forget.

Karl is running now. The voices are only yelling KARL KARL KARL over and over, never in unison, causing an overwhelming amount of whisper-yells.

There is a book under the wither rose. The moment that Karl grabs it, the voices silence. He looks back down the path, but nothing is there. He opens the book. 

The title is The Path.

Karl opens it.

I’m proud of you. You didn’t stray from the path. Now we can work together to help you regain your memory and protect your friends.

Karl puts the book back without reading the other pages. There’s a single whisper behind him, and he whips around. Nothing is there.

Karl stands in front of one of the tunnels. There’s a weak light far down the tunnel. Without warning, Karl sprints down the tunnel. Eventually, it opens up into a small room.

There’s a red rose in a pot. There’s a book underneath. Karl picks it up. The title is Thank You

Thank you. Now you can work towards save them. Don’t listen to anything they tell you. I want to help you. They don’t. 

The next page - the last page - reads: 

Are you ready to begin?

The screen goes black, and the end credits play.

While Turn Back Time by Derivakat plays, you go on Twitter.

Sapnap has tweeted “Boo!”

[frangipanilove]

Beth’s Knife vs. Leah’s Knife

Ah! Episode 10x18 Find Me, you guys! How wonderful and mysterious it was! Have y’all recovered? I’m still absolutely mesmerized by how PACKED it was with Beth references and TD symbolism!

The callbacks, the foreshadows. Find Me was a symbolism treasure trove and I don’t think we’re even close to having uncovered all of its secrets. For me personally, one thing that I’ve been obsessing over since the promo pictures dropped, is Leah’s knife. In the promo pics for the entire bonus season we see Daryl give/lend a knife to Carol.

In another pic, we see Carol using the knife to fix the solar panels. I assume the pictures are from 10x21 Diverged.

We also now know that the knife originally belonged to Leah, because we got a close look at it in Find Me. It has the letters FS engraved to its hilt, which is interesting, because those two letters are the initials of Leah’s Fortitudo Saludis tattoo.

Obviously, the reason I’m exited about seeing more of that knife is that I’m expecting it to be a parallel to the heartbreaking scene from Them, when we saw Carol give Beth’s knife to Daryl.

If I’m right and Daryl gives/lends Leah’s knife to Carol in Diverged, that could potentially be a huge reference to Beth’s knife, in that it’s a reversed parallel. equal but opposite. Beth’s knife is super significant, of course, because Daryl got it when he was in deep mourning over losing her, and he carried her knife on him up until episode 6x12 Not Tomorrow Yet. We haven’t seen the knife since, and we haven't had any significant reference to it either. And I’m hoping that’s about to change. And for those of us that LOVED 10x18 Find Me for all its glaringly obvious Beth references, it seems more than just a little significant that we now could be getting references to Beth’s knife. We all feel she’s near, and the show’s references to her are getting increasingly obvious. Honestly I’m surprised that the general TWD fandom aren't talking more about it, but of course I’m not a neutral observer, so who knows.

So let’s discuss Leah's knife. It’s a Swiss Army Knife, and in one of the promo pictures from Diverged, we see Daryl possibly giving/lending the knife to Carol. I say «possibly», because obviously I haven't watched the episode yet, and everything I say here are speculations.

In another pic we see Carol working on what I assume are repairs on the solar panels in Alexandria. We see how Carol is utilizing the screwdriver part of the knife to fix the solar panels. That’s interesting for a couple of reasons.

In 5x7 Crossed (keep the episode title in mind), Tara found a backpack in the mud. She dug it out, and inside there was a blue yo-yo (Blue Clue theory) and a Philips head screwdriver. She made a point out of mentioning that it was a Phillips head.

A Phillips head basically looks like a cross (and again, the episode title is Crossed). Tara’s comment was one of those times when you just know the writers are trying to slip symbolism into a seemingly innocent comment. We’ve never heard anything about Phillips head screwdrivers before or since, so it obviously was a symbolism thing.

Further, let’s discuss the fact that it was a Swiss Army knife. If you’re not familiar with them, they are small, handy, foldable pocket knifes that are multiple tools in one. They are famous for being versatile and reliable, and in many ways they are considered to be the ultimate survival tool. And as I mentioned above, it originally belonged to Leah. And the screwdiver that Carol seems to be using is shaped like a cross.

Many theorists have said much about 10x18 and who or what Leah represents. And no matter how you look at it I think we can all agree that she was based on Beth in several significant ways. The entire episode was like taking a bath in Beth references and TD symbolism. So it's difficult NOT to consider Leah’s knife some sort of callback or reference to Beth's knife and the symbolism surrounding it. Because again, Beth’s knife wasn’t just some trivial, random prop, it was something that represented what Beth meant to Daryl, something he kept on him for over a season. Beth’s knife was a huge deal, and nobody can tell me otherwise.

My point is, if I’m right, and we see Leah’s knife being passed on from Daryl to Carol, or even the other way around, in Diverged, I think there’s a huge chance the scene will constitute a meaningful parallel to the knife scene in Them. And that’s super interesting because it will be the first time TPTB have referred to it since 6x11 Knots Untie, after which it disappeared (or should we say it’s «just gone»). Also, anyone familiar with my previous theories know that I’m obsessed about the number 11, and the roman numeral II. I won’t get into it here, but I elaborate on the 11/2/II/one one symbolism here. And that 6x11 was the last time we saw Beth’s knife before it went “missing” is probably no coincidence.

So, what else is interesting about Leah’s knife? Well, it’s a Swiss Army knife, and that is a huge red flag in and of itself. HUGE RED FLAG!

No seriously! The Swiss flag is red, with a white cross on it.

A cross that is pretty much identical to the crosses we saw on the Grady cars, like the one that kidnapped Beth in Alone.

Or, you can even say that it is a visual parallel to the cross we see at Leah’s cabin, the one where she supposedly buried her son Matthew. So all of this is very exiting, but in the words of Dwight’s wife Sherry: there’s more, there’s always more.

Sherry actually said “there’s always more” to Daryl when he tried to escape from the sanctuary in season 7. He was immediately captured and beaten, but he later succeeded thanks to Sherry’s assistance. But does anyone remember how he almost were discovered and had to quickly duck into Dwights room for some time? To hide from a couple of Saviors who were transporting pickled cucumber through the hallways and messed up? So Daryl had to sit tight in Dwight’s room and wait until they had cleaned up cucumber brine and broken glass. A room where we BTW saw the same fish mounted on the wall that we also see in Leahs cabin. Similar to the fish daryl throws at the door of Leah’s cabin, the one with the X/cross that I talked about here.

There’s also a chess board in Dwight’s room. A very special WW2-themed chess board. We see how the camera lingers on one of the chess pieces in a shot that’s juuust a second and a half too long for it to not be suspicious. Take a look at the piece in the centre, the one with a red building.

I was always intrigued by that scene, and a couple of minutes of googling revealed the reason why they focused on it; it has a Swiss flag on it.

A red flag with a white cross. We don’t see the flag in the episode, but we see the camera lingering on the chess piece, and thanks to google we now know there’s a Swiss flag involved in the scene. And for TD, the interesting part of that is that the cross ties into the cross/X symbolism we continue to see around Beth.

And by the way, when Daryl made it out to the backyard of the sanctuary, he beat Fat Joey to death in a scene that was strikingly similar to the scene from Still, when he beat up a walker in front of Beth.

Beth was paralleled with Jesus in this scene, which always seems appropriate, seeing as she is a Christ figure.

So here we are, in season 10C, and we have a Swiss Army knife. We’ve had so many Still/Alone references in Find Me alone it would likely take a month to analyze them all. And we have a huge Beth callback potentially coming up in Diverged.

I should point out once again that these are just wild speculations on my part, and that I’m making assumptions on scenes involving a knife in an episode I haven’t seen because it’s not even out yet. If the knife scenes plays out in different  ways, none of this applies. However, speculating is one of my favorite past time activities, and it’s also a pretty harmless hobby, so why not.

But I’m going to be on the lookout for these things in the coming episodes for sure, and if anyone has thoughts, I’d love to hear.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

FTWD 6x08: First Analysis

Okay, let’s talk about this episode. 1) It SUCKED. 2) It also SUCKED. Anyone want to take a stab at what I’ll list for #3?

Why? Character death.

I’ll put all spoilers beneath the READ MORE. If this makes you at all worried about Beth’s return, read what I’ve written below. It will make you feel better.

***As always, spoilers abound for 6x08 below. Don’t read until you’ve watched!***

Okay, so I’m sure you already figured this out, but John is probably my favorite character currently on FEAR, so I’m super-bummed that they decided to kill him off. And I totally didn’t see it coming. The screeners talked about something big happening in Fear, but I didn’t think it would be this. Yeah. SUCKS.

But let’s discuss, shall we?

Because there was and still is a lot of Beth symbolism around John, I know that’s going to unsettle people. I don’t want this to come across as me being worried in any way, but I’ve already gotten quite a few Asks and messages, so clearly others in the fandom are worried that because John dies here, it might mean Beth really did die, too.

Let me assure you, there’s nothing further from the truth. 

I’d like you to keep the following 6 points:

1.       It’s all about the attitude of the character in that moment. (A.k.a. the symbolism can change.)

2.       His death will spur on the current storyline and affect other characters.

3.       There is plenty of precedent for killing off true love couples. Unfortunately.

4.       This was a replay of Grady.

5.       John does not = Beth in this season. Morgan does.

6.       Major clarity on the Door symbol, and that’s freaking huge!

It’s all about the character’s attitude in the moment.

This is something I’ve addressed before when looking at the dialogue various characters have before their deaths. In most cases, they accept their deaths or become negative in some way. And that’s not to say that they all want to die or try to commit suicide. For example, Dale. He didn’t want to die and he wasn’t suicidal. But before his death, he said he no longer wanted to live in a world where they killed Randal. That’s basically, through symbolic dialogue, announcing his own death.

Another good example is Glenn. There was tons of Beth symbolism and even a lot of her dialogue around Glenn in S6, just before his death fake out. Now, clearly he didn’t want to die in 7x01, and he didn’t really say anything to that effect. But the point is, the hopeful, Beth symbols around him wasn’t present in 6x16/7x01 as it was in 6x03. So, the symbolism around a character can change if their attitude has changed and their heading toward their own death.

Do you see what I mean? While there has been lots of Beth symbolism around John and June in the past, in this episode and even a few previous to this, he became very hopeless and dark. You could say he parallels to S2 Beth who also tried to commit suicide. Not to S4/S5 Beth who was hopeful and determined to live.

Throughout the episode, Morgan gives John tons of chances to change his mind, and he refuses.

One more example and I’ll move on. Heath and Tara.

I’ll admit this symbolism is a little confusing, and I had to think through it several times to square it in my head. In 7x06, Tara fell off a bridge into a river, and washed up in a new community. She lived. Here, John falls off a bridge into a river and washes up in front of his own cabin. But he dies.

We’ve always attributed the Tara symbolism to Beth, yet John died here. But Tara DID live, so which is it?

Again, it just depends on the attitude. Before Tara went off the bridge, we saw her being positive and hopeful, while Heath was being super negative and hopeless. Tara lived. She found herself in captivity, but eventually escaped and made it home. Heath didn’t die in that case, but disappeared into the CRM. The point is, something bad happened to him because he was being negative and hopeless. And to this day, he’s never made it home. See what I mean? So, it’s all about where the character’s head is at. Unfortunately, John had given up.

And the other confusing thing is that he seems to get his hope back right at the end. The last thing we see him say is “It’s not too late.” But I think the idea is that it’s just too little too late at that point. If you follow the sequence of events back, it’s clear that if he hadn’t gone back to the cabin and tried to kill himself, he wouldn’t have been on that bridge and Lizzie—I mean Dakota—wouldn’t have killed him. So his death was the result of his own actions.

His death will spur on the current storyline and affect other characters.

This is something the showrunners really emphasize on TTD. And I won’t say I’m a fan of it, but we do have a precedent for it in the show. Glenn’s death kicked off AOW. Jesus’s death happened at the start of the Whisper War. The death of the pike victims spurred Carol to let Negan out to kill Alpha. So, while I wish they’d used someone other than John for this (cuz I heart him), this is something we’ve seen in other story lines before.

Will it happen with Beth? Well, I don’t think Beth will die at the beginning of the CRM war, if that’s what anyone is thinking. But I think someone will. I’ll talk more about this below, but for now, know that there probably will be a sacrifice of some kind. I actually kind of wonder if it will be Eugene. Only because of the Sampson template. I’ve said before that I think, like Sampson, he might do something to save TF, kill their enemies, and give them a fighting chance. But that remains to be seen, of course.

There’s even a line in this episode where John says, “this river has a way of bringing people back to life.” Clearly, that doesn’t apply to him. But I think it applies to the rest of his group who will “come alive” and finally fight off Virginia’s evil yoke.

There is plenty of precedent for killing off true love couples. Unfortunately.

Another reason I know this makes people nervous is because this is a true love couple with major symbolic ties to Bethyl. I get it. But actually, we’ve seen similar things with lots of other Bethyl proxy couples.

The one that first comes to mind is Sasha and Abraham. They had TONS of Bethyl parallels. They did get together and get some time together, though not much. Then Abe was killed off, and Sasha followed him a season later.

There’s also David and Betsy from S6. Admittedly, there were SUPER minor characters, but still.

The other big one is Glaggie. I’m not saying there were tons of Bethyl parallels there, except in the fact that they’re both soulmate couples and both have death fake outs. But the point is, TWD hasn’t exactly shied away from killing off soulmate couples.

So what does that mean for Beth and Daryl?

I’m really not trying to scare or depress anyone. I’m not saying they’re going to kill off either Beth or Daryl after she returns. My point is that pointing at John and June as a soulmate couple and trying to extend this death to Beth and Daryl doesn’t really work. This is just another beloved character fatality, and TWD has given us a LOT of those.

So might they kill Beth or Daryl down the line? I mean, anything’s possible, but I really doubt it. I’ve said this before, but they wouldn’t do all this epic foreshadowing just to pull a Morales, or make them “just another” tragic couple.

Plus, it’s Daryl. His romance was always meant to be epic and I really think they’ll both be standing at the end of the series (including the spinoff) whenever that is. So, it’s not something I worry about.

This was a replay of Grady.

I’ll go into this more tomorrow in my Details post, but there are specific things here that make it clear to me that this is something of a replay of Grady. For today, just look at it this way: we have someone falling off a bridge (Daryl and Carol did so in 5x06) and someone being shot (John and Beth). Walkers are also involved in a big way. The difference is that John dies while we think Beth lived. And we can be confident in that because, as I explained above, her attitude was exactly the opposite of John’s.

John does not = Beth in this season. Morgan does.

Keep in mind that, as I said above, John because S2 Beth here. He sort of retrogressed into hopelessness, and that’s why he died.

If anyone is a Beth proxy in this season of Fear, it’s Morgan. He’s sort of “come back from the dead,” reinvented himself, is searching for his lost love (Grace) who happens to be pregnant (child/baby symbolism) and in this episode, John even calls him a ghost.

I’m just saying.

Major clarity on the Door symbol, and that’s freaking huge!

Okay, this is the big one for me, and about the only real silver lining of this episode. This is something we’ve been stumped over for a LONG time. Specifically, since they were filming S5.

Review: while filming the lost ‘white cabin’ scenes we know Emily was in for S5, and which we still haven’t seen yet, Steven Yeun posted this.

It’s a picture from inside that white cabin, and he captioned it with, “Open the door!” but then deleted it. We never understood exactly what that meant. I think most people assumed it was a tease about what might be or what might have happened in that cabin.

But this episode with John is called “The Door.”

They have this whole theme in the episode about how John wants to close himself in his cabin and commit suicide. So, closing the door = death. Opening the door = life. 

My fellow theorists and I have been talking a lot about the cabin symbol as a tomb, since 10x18. We think Leah’s entire cabin represents a tomb. Which not only shows that she might be dead/a hallucination, but it represents Daryl being emotionally dead. Closing himself off to the living and indulging things that aren’t even real.

We’ve seen other examples of this theme as well. In S4, Carol and Ty tried to stay in the little cabin, rather than moving forward to find the others, and it resulted in death (Lizzie killing Mica).

Also in S4, Sasha tried to stop rather than pushing forward. It probably would have resulted in her death. Thankfully, she came around, and that led to her not only living, but reuniting with Tyreese.

@wdway also pointed out that we just recently saw Lucille this. She entombed herself in the basement, shutting the door and leaving a note. And while she was dying of cancer anyway, she didn’t wait for cancer to kill her. She took her own life. So she entombed herself and chose death.

John wanted to do the same thing in this episode. He didn’t get a chance to, but as I discussed above, that’s why he died.

But do you see why this is so significant. Steven posting the cabin with the “open the door!” caption is his way of showing that something about the cabin in how Beth lived.

Opening the door = life.

So while I kind of hated this episode and am super bummed about John, it does shed some light on a lot of the symbolism.

Tomorrow, I’ll talk more about the episode details.

Thoughts?

[its-always-the-witching-hour]

Chapter 1 of Apocalyptic AU - Sanders Sides

This is way longer than I intended it to be, and it’s only chapter one. I don’t have a name for it yet, but I’ll come up with one soon.

Word count - 1643

Pairings - None (yet)

Warnings - (Spoilers) Zombies, blood, guts, the undead, being left alone, death, disease, summoning rituals - Tag anything I missed

Characters - Virgil Sanders, Deceit (Devan) Sanders, Remus Sanders

Next chapter

---

Everyone had called his parents crazy, and conspiracy theorists, but now they probably wished they had listened to them. It was month 4 of the apocalypse, and Virgil was probably the only survivor. The outbreak had started with what seemed like a new disease, one that was extremely contagious but harmless, and put the infected person into a sleepwalker like stupor that lasted for days. At first, things just continued like normal, with people still going to work and school, and traveling around the globe, but Virgil’s parents hadn’t bought it. They had locked him from the outside and inside in a bomb-proof bunker, stocked with enough food to last a person a year. They refused to join him, though, and instead attempted to figure out where the disease had originated from. The days down in the bunker were long, but not that boring, due to the fact that there were at least three charging points for electronic devices on each wall, and a tv to keep connected to the outside world, not to mention the bookshelf with all of Virgil’s favorite books in it. He thought that the whole thing was an over-reaction at first, but still got some pleasure out of it, mainly because he now had a valid excuse not to turn up to school, as he was locked in his crazy parent’s basement. Then the disease went into its second stage.

Everyone who had been infected once, or was still suffering from it just collapsed onto the ground. Scans of the bodies showed that their brains had just stopped functioning, and nothing that was done could bring them back. There were too many funerals that week. A week after every dead body was buried, stage three started. People walking past or paying their respects to the dead reported scratching sounds from the graveyards. The government and police dismissed it as a Halloween prank – as it was October at the time – and stated publicly that there was no point looking into it further. Then, the voices started. At first, it just sounded like the wind ripping through the leaves of trees, until people realized that there was no wind, and hadn’t been for weeks. The unexplained chattering noises became the root of many dares that week, and police had to stop many people, young and old, from doing stupid things like digging up the bodies, or chanting so-called ‘summoning rituals’ and trying to connect to the ghosts of the dead. And then, about a month after the disease was first discovered, all hell broke loose, literally.

A report to the police had told them that a man was walking strangely along the pavement outside their house, and they suspected that they were illegally drunk in public. However, when the police arrived, they found a man covered in dirt, mud and grass. Both of his hands had sizeable splinters sticking out of them, and a few fingers dangled as though they were broken, but there was no blood. He walked with a shambling gait, looking like he had broken at least one of his legs. One policeman approached him, to see if they needed to call an ambulance, and the rest, well the rest was recorded by a camera crew doing one of those police documentaries for TV. The horrifying video, which was aired on every station in the world, started off with the policeman approaching the man and asking him ‘Are you okay’. When the man didn’t respond, the policeman tried again, each time moving closer to the man, until he put his hand on the man’s shoulder. With a creepy, unhinged look, the man turned slowly towards the policeman, who seemed happy to get a response out of him at last. The man flew at the policeman, shoving him to the ground and sinking his teeth into his arm. The policeman screamed in agony, then his head flopped back against the pavement.

After that video, Virgil’s parents re-enforced the door with twice as many locks, and for once he was glad that his parents always thought the worst was going to happen. Even days after the video came out, Virgil was still having trouble sleeping, so at 3am, when it happened, he heard everything. It started off with a banging on the front door, but nobody took any notice of that, because their house was pretty old, and weird noises appeared almost every night. As soon as the groaning and mumbling bubbled up, Virgil knew his parents were going to die. He huddled under the weighted blankets of his bed, silent tears running down his face as he listened to his parent’s screams. A couple of times, the zombies banged on the door to his bunker, trying to find a way to get in, but it was built too well. They left around 5am, leaving Virgil alone in a now broken home.

That happened 2 months ago, and Virgil hasn’t heard a thing since. The TV in his room doesn’t work, because there is nobody left to air anything, and the electronic generator has been slowly running out of energy. Every book on the shelf has been read for at least three times, and food and water levels were running low. He knew that his slow and painful death from starvation or dehydration was about to begin. All he could do was just try and ration the remaining supplies he had left, and sleep. When he heard the noises, it was no wonder he thought the zombies had returned. Then, he heard their voices.

“Try this one.”

“I can’t it’s locked.”

“Oh. Well this one is empty. Looks like someone beat us to it.”

A pause, then, closer to the door of the bunker,

“Hey, look at this. What do ya reckon it is?”

“Pictures of… paranormal activity?”

“Woah. This one’s really cool. Look at all the organs on the floor.”

“I think I know who lived here…”

“Yeah? Who?”

“Those weird scientists that were convinced that the world was going to end soon.”

“Well, looks like they were right after all.”

A small bout of harsh laughter with no humor behind it caused Virgil to retreat further back into the safety of his bed, his heart pounding.

“Hey, didn’t they have a kid?”

“Yes, a son, I’m pretty sure. He went to our school, I think, but we’ve never seen him around because when anything remotely strange happened, his parents locked him up for days. Wait Remus don’t –”

A loud crash echoed through the house as ‘Remus’ knocked over something.

“I’m fine, stop fussing Dee. Was there a door here before?”

“A what?”

“Look, it’s like a safe door! But with a thousand more locks!”

“Interesting. Perhaps there’s more food inside.”

“Or bodies!”

“Why am I friends with you?”

“Because I’m the only one left alive apart from you.”

“I hate it when you’re right.”

“Aw, you know you looooove me.”

“Quit being weird and help me open this door.”

Virgil could hear them unlatching locks, and then, alarmingly, the door to his bunker began to shake. He let out an audible gasp, thankful that he kept the inside of the door locked in fear that the zombies would figure out how to open the outside locks.

“Huh, I think it’s locked on the inside as well.”

“But how, unless…”

There was a moment of terrified silence for Virgil, then the voices started speaking again, not to each other this time, but to Virgil.

“Hey, if there’s anyone in there, we won’t hurt you.”

“Yeah, we’re nice people, really, and also… we might be the only other people left.”

“Please open the door, if you need it, we can help you.”

Taking a deep breath, Virgil realized that they were his best chance at surviving, even if it meant leaving his safe haven, he would have to go with them. Steeling himself for what would lay behind it, he opened the door.

Standing in front of him were two boys of a similar age to him. One was wearing an interesting black cloak around his shoulders, fastened with a golden chain. The shirt he wore under it was plain grey, and he had jeans on. Half of his face was covered in dirty bandages, and he had a slightly surprised look, as if he hadn’t expected the door to actually open. The other boy had a dark green parker jacket on, and shorts, which made an interesting combo. His hair was extremely messy, with twigs and clumps of dried mud in it. He had a wide-eyed smile, that almost made him look crazy. Virgil regretted opening the door immediately.

“Hey…” the one in the cloak stepped forwards slowly, wincing as Virgil backed up nervously at the movement. “Don’t worry; we’re not going to hurt you. I’m Devan, but you can call me Dee, and that idiot over there is Remus.” Remus gave an energetic wave as he peered past Virgil into the bunker.

“I-I’m Virgil,” Virgil whispered, “and don’t bother looking in there for food; it’s nearly run out. I do have some medical kits if you need it.” He directed the last one at Dee, who touched the bandage on his face self-consciously.

“That… would help.” He admitted, sending an exasperated look at Remus as the energetic one glanced over at Devan, worry clear on his face, “I’m fine, Remus. It just… hurts sometimes.”

“Okay, but you need to let me know if it opens up again. I can help you, ya know.”

Unsure of what to do at this moment, Virgil retreated back into his bunker, then came out moments later carrying a bundle of blankets.

“Here,” He mumbled, offering the bundle to the other two, “This will hopefully have enough stuff to keep us going.”

“Us?” Devan asked.

“Yes, I’m coming with you.”

[magic8realism]

Chapter 1: Therapy

It was an all too familiar experience, sitting there with nothing but the sound of deafening silence. How many times has it been now? Eight? Nine? Maybe less? Was it sensible to keep count? No, she promised herself she would not entertain such thoughts. She reminded herself that she was here to get better. Yes, that is precisely what Michaela told her. She needed to get better, but was that even possible? Is it possible for someone who had been through what she had gone through to get better? Michaela said she should not give up, that she had made some excellent progress, but her mind knew that Michaela had no idea that it was all an act, a false persona. People need to put an act sometimes to get by. Life demands it. Certain professions would not allow its occupants to survive without it. Her situation was not different.

“Miss. Collins, are you okay? You haven’t said anything for a while now.”

Her eyes darted towards the blond middle-aged woman sitting right across from her. Mary Grove was her name, was it? Michaela told her she was the best therapist in the city. Her friend did say the same thing about other therapists before her, yet not a single one of them had been able to help her. Maybe she was a hopeless case. Maybe she should just accept the fact that she would never overcome the experience and just give in. It would be nice, leaving this world with all its troubles. The ironic thing was that her traumatic experience had left her brain so fragmented and incapable of aligning its contradictory demands that she would no longer know if death was really what it wanted. She would find herself at one point at the pit of a spiral of depression so intense that she would wish she was dead. Her sadistic mind would even go on to devise one method after another in search of the best way to go. A few moments later it would recoil in terror. Her heartbeat would race, her whole body would start to convulse and her chest would struggle to fill her lungs with air. The episode would go on and off for hours until it totally annihilated her grip on reality and sent her crawling into a corner to wait for her impending doom.

“Lesly are you okay?”

No, she was not okay. No one in this god-forsaken city was okay. What made this woman believe anyone was okay? Isn’t that what they say any way? That every single individual suffers from an issue of sorts?  

“Do you need me to get you anything?” Mary asked with a concerned look on her face.

“I’m fine,” Lesly finally decided to answer.

Mary nodded her head, acknowledging the response she was given. She started scribbling on her notebook before she finally decided to address her newest patient, “Shall we continue?”

When Leslie smiled emptily in response to Mary’s question, Mary proceeded, her gaze cantered undividedly on Leslie, “Michaela told me about your situation, but I would like to hear your story.”

Oh yes, the story, that god-awful story. She must have told that story like a hundred times. Although she would like nothing more than to forget it, her brain would make sure to remind her every once in a while. True to its sadistic streak, her brain would not only reminisce on the moments when she was most helpless and scared but would also make her relive every excruciating detail of that experience every chance it gets. Nightmares were quite common and as awful as they were, they were still preferable to the far more harrowing and intrusive flashbacks. Yes, sharing the story should be a breeze. Why would she object to telling it?

“You already know it. Why go through it again?” Lesly answered dryly.

“That’s fine. We won’t discuss it then,” Mary responded with a smile. It seemed that she had had her fair share of difficult patients before Lesly showed up.  

“How’s work Lesly?”

Was Mary trying to approach the problem from a different direction now? Lesly had encountered that strategy a lot, especially when she was reticent. It was obvious what Mary was trying to do.

“You are familiar with my line of work,” Lesly answered calmly.

“Michaela told me you are a brilliant lawyer.”

Brilliant indeed. She could barely afford these sessions. Ever since the death of her younger brother seven years ago, she had been suffering this overwhelming guilt that robbed her of sleep. That guilt would only be eased a little when she distracted herself with work. However, it was not long before she lost the sense of comfort that work gave her. Every case she took made her feel miserable, not only because some clients proved to be the absolute worst human beings on earth, but also because she was the reason the people who really needed help found themselves financially crippled soon afterwards. Eventually, she began taking more cases pro bono. She convinced herself that she was balancing some of the bad with a little good, but sadly that was not the case. People do charity work for different reasons. There are those who help out of the goodness of their heart, and there are those who help for purely selfish reasons, to fix their public image, deceive people into thinking they are somebody that they are not, or even use their charity organization as a front for illegal activities. She could easily fall into the second category. Helping was one way she could convince herself that she was not a bad person, and because she knew that was a lie, she found herself charging her clients little to none over and over in an effort to mask that reality. It was not long before her savings dried up and she found herself downgrading everything in her life to make ends meet. That did not bother her much. As long as she was handling that overwhelming sense of guilt, she was fine. Soon afterwards, she joined Sonata, a charity organization concerned with helping the victims of human trafficking and putting an end to their suffering. Unfortunately, every case she took through Sonata following the incident was nothing more than a blatant reminder of what she had gone through.

“Lesly?”

“I’m sorry. I was just thinking about a case I encountered at work today,” Lesly finally decided to answer, realizing that the long time she took to respond was also a sign this Mary person could use to figure her out.

“Care to share it with me?” Mary asked patiently, hoping to get Lesly to finally open up.  

Lesly sighed, wondering whether it was worth it to say anything at all or not. She eventually decided to randomly choose a case and to present it to Mary as a way to fill the silence.

“There is this woman, early twenties, who came to the city of Redlyn in hopes of finding a job that would support her and her five-year old son. She trusted the wrong people and ended up in a prostitution job that she could not leave for fear that her son might get hurt. We managed to save her, but we can’t find her son.”

“That is awful.”

“Yes, that is what people normally say, and yet no body is doing anything about the problem.”

“Lesly, what makes you think the problem is getting worse?” Mary asked after a moment of silence.

“What makes you think it’s getting better?”

“Wouldn’t you consider the changes the newly elected mayor promised to make a step in the right direction?” Mary clarified.

Leslie could not help but laugh at this point, “Politicians!”

Unable to keep her real thoughts to herself any longer, she continued, “The slave-trade has grown prosperous due to the city’s stagnant environment, yet despite the growing numbers we announce, politicians still insist that we exaggerate. Why do you think that?”

“You tell me.”

“Because they are entangled in that mess. The persistence of the problem helps them. They get paid a handsome some by the syndicates running the show to stay quiet. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the city’s major political figures are involved in the lucrative sex-trade that such an activity gave rise to.”

Silence again. The crime rate in the city of Redlyn was high. That was an undisputed fact. The factors behind the increase in crime rate, however, were a source of a major controversy. As with any community, there are those who believed that hijacking people’s freedom through stricter laws was the answer. There are the conspiracy theorists who would either trace the problem to some foreign powers or locate it in the existing government. And then there are the religious fanatics who would simply interpret every occurrence as God’s punishment to the sinful.

“That is…an interesting analysis, Lesly,” Mary replied hesitantly after a moment of silence.

Great! She must have already been categorized as another conspiracy theorist. Lesly did not normally care what other people thought of her, but she did not want Mary to needlessly prolong those sessions. One session every two weeks was torture enough.

She leaned forward in her seat and tried her best to control her simmering temper as she reasoned, “Dr. Grove, how would you explain the rising crime wave? The inadequacy of the law enforcement system? The corruption of the judicial system? And the fact that parts of the city are totally controlled by syndicates and criminal organizations rather than a functional government body?”

Mary would not answer the questions. She just sat there waiting for Leslie to voice the one experience that was the source of this seething, yet somewhat controlled anger.

Realizing that she had revealed more than what she wished her therapist to find out, she stood up, turned her back to the middle-aged woman and began walking towards the window. Lesly took a couple of deep breaths and tried to think of way to handle what remained of the one-hour session. She wanted to leave that instant, but Michaela was waiting outside. Leaving would mean subjecting herself to the hellish nagging, crying and pleading that resulted in the guilt-ride that brought here in the first place. No, leaving was not an option, and apparently beating around the bush and answering questions with questions was not working either, especially since she was exhausted and sleep-deprived. What else was there to do?

Her eyes scanned the small garden through the window. The sound of children playing and laughing immediately caught her attention and had her search their surroundings for the source of their amusement. She soon found out that it was a small golden retriever running around the kids in circles and chasing after a toy they were holding. Something about the scene evoked a surge of emotions within her. She could not understand at first why the scene affected her so much, but she soon managed to put a name to the phenomenon…nostalgia…but that was not all there was to it. Something else was making her eyes burn. They were tearing up. The more she fought that, the harder her eyes pulsed. She tried to keep herself composed, but so many things were out of order right now that she could not keep track of everything. Something was bound to slip out.

Almost involuntarily, she found herself whispering, “Things would have been easier if he was around.”

“Who Lesly?”

“Christopher.”

“Your brother?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

What was there to talk about? The guy lived his whole life treating her like nothing but the family he always wanted, but she never returned the sentiment. She hated him at first because he was her father’s love child. Christopher was twelve when she first met him. He was four years younger than her. His mother had passed away when he was two and he spent the next ten years in the care of his maternal grandmother. Her father kept his existence a secret from her up until he could no longer do so. Christopher’s grandmother passed away and her father had no choice but to bring him over. What made it easier for her father to do so was the fact that her mother was no longer around, too. Her father only had one person’s feelings to worry about and those were hers. She spent the next year fully ignoring Christopher’s existence for her sanity’s sake up until the moment she went to college.

Lesly finally got to acknowledge Christopher as a brother when her father passed away. She had just graduated from college and she was trying to put herself through law school. The sight of Christopher weeping at her father’s funeral tore at her heart strings. She realized that Christopher had just lost the only family he knew. Their relationship grew from that point onward, but it was not long before it hit another hurdle along the way. She did not know whether it was the lack of guidance or the fact that he had been spoiled by everybody who cared for him throughout his life, but Christopher had grown up to be the most irresponsible person she had ever encountered. He could not keep himself in college and would not even bother looking for a job. His reason, of course, was that he did not need the money after he was finally granted access to the trust fund left to him by his maternal grandparent. Every encounter the two had followed the same routine course. She would criticize his irresponsible behaviour. He would call her a stuck-up a bitch, and then the two of them would keep their distance until he sought her out again. It was always him who initiated the contact, never her. He was the one who would call to check on her. He was the one who would arrange dinner appointments to meet her. He was the one who constantly called her office to plan things around her schedule. It was obvious that he loved her a great deal. She loved him, too, but for some reason, she was never capable of showing it, and now he was dead and his blood was on her hands alone.

Why didn’t she keep her mouth shut? If she had tried to reason with him rather than criticize and point his flaws every time she saw him, he would not have stormed out of her flat in anger and got himself killed in a car accident. Why did she do that? Why was she so harsh with him? She was an attorney and a damn excellent one. She should have been able to use her words in a more effective manner than that. Did she still resent him for being her father’s love child? Was that the real reason? Did she secretly want him dead? Did she even love him or was she lying to herself the entire time to make herself feel better? Maybe she deserved what happened to her, getting incarcerated, tortured, and raped. She should have died that day. She should not have been rescued.

“Lesly, what are you thinking?”

“Nothing,” Lesly answered in a small voice.

At this point, Mary could not help but sigh in frustration at her patient’s lack of cooperation. She placed the cap over her pen, put her notebook aside, took a deep breath, and tried to reason one more time, “Dear, I’m trying to help you. You are obviously suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. What you have been though is horrendous in every sense of the word. You have to open up.”

Still not convinced, Lesly asked, “What’s the point? It won’t erase the fact that it happened. It won’t erase the fact that I deserved it.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because I’m a horrible human being,” Lesly replied softly.

“Lesly, it is common for sexual assault victims to blame themselves. The most important thing to remember is that…”

“Did you not hear me? I deserved it,” Lesly interrupted, almost breaking down.

Mary tried to hold back from saying anything that would further enrage Lesly. She took a deep breath, tried to rearrange her thoughts, and then proceeded one more time to convince her patient to speak, “Lesly, perhaps you can help me understand the situation better by telling me exactly what happened.”

Lesly tried to calm herself down. She closed her eyes to keep the tears that were threatening to fall from falling, and counted to ten. She could handle this. She could power through if she wanted. She had done it before, and she could do it again.

She slowly walked back to her seat, sat down, then spoke softly, “I helped someone.”

“And?” Mary asked encouragingly.

“I paid dearly for it.”

[pinkvhs]

ok i made a post like this months back but it was like in bursts of read mores so here it is again all in one thing with some extra added stuff

i just,,,,want marvin to have depth and try to kinda connect things ya know

not really a theory just my random burst of thoughts™ im not a fic writer or a proper theorist its just my thoughts 

     Jameson & Marvin are both from the same time period, around 1920s. Jameson is a well known and beloved actor and Marvin is a magician. Both are childhood friends and have a brother like relationship. Jameson for his birthday on halloween has this extravagant party. People all over party it up almost Gatsby style with him. Marvin, despite loving an audience, isn't much for crowds but goes because JJ insisted he shows up and they do a seance with the guests as a fun trick. Even though Marvin doesn't really believe, he is a bit of a scaredy cat with the topic of ghosts. He agrees to do it but nothing happens, giving the guests a good giggle though. When the part is late and its just Marvin & JJ alone they try once again for fun. Conjuring up Anti. Marvin trying to fight back the demon but Anti flings him across the room like a ragdoll. Anti possessing JJ and making him slit his throat in front of Marvin's eyes. Marv once again lashing out trying to stop Anti and thus Anti sends Marvin into the future, completely fucked up with burns and new powers due to coming in contact with Anti.

  When Marvin comes to the future, our reality so to speak, he is lost alone and afraid. Jackie, a mortal man but has a heart of gold, helps out people in any way he can. Marvin when teleported to the future was in the street taking everything in and was practically having a panic attack from it all. Noises, new surroundings, all just him looking around and things blurring together. Jackie running over to pull him out of the way of the street because all when  things where phasing together with overload, a car was coming close to him with no signs of stopping. Jackie being super confused and concerned, asking if he is okay and Marvin just trying to get a grip on things. Jackie being careful with his words and willing to listen though. Eventually, Marvin answers his questions and Jackie helps him find a new place to live. The two of them become close friends over time and Marvin opens up to him about his magic, showing it off to him. Jackie getting excited cause he is like "DUDE YOURE A SUPER HERO!" But Marv is just confused as to what he means, cause how Jackie describes it, he is more of a villain with the harm he has done. But Jackie not seeing that at all.

Eventually, since Marvin is stuck in this reality, he gets a job once more as an entertainer. He needs to make money in order to stay where he is at and Jackie convinces him to do things he likes, and making people smile at his tricks was something he did enjoy. He becomes well known with his impossible magical acts and it for some time helped as a distraction to him. For once, he felt happy again. He was still trying to figure out a way to go back in time to save Jameson but this new job helped him explore his magic and also helped him feel happy again. Despite it all he was able to find some form of happiness in this hell thats his life. But, it would be short lived. 

 A fire incident, causing deaths to those in the show and injuries in the audience. The theater burning down all because of him, causing all the horrible feelings to rush back. Jackie trying to talk to him that maybe it wasn't his fault, he was getting such a hang on his magic that maybe it was something else, but its no use. Marvin teleports himself from the scene, making the news believe he too died in the fire. And to leave Jackie alone to worry and wonder what happened to his friend

He decides to live alone near the ocean, a place where his fire magic can't hurt anyone. Secluded from the world with no soul to worry about. Left alone to just focus on his powers and focus on finding that Demon once more. As years go by, he has grown use to the silence of it. The waves of the tides, providing for himself, living off of nature. Guilt consuming him for all the wrongs he has done that he can't undo. His mind screaming at him that he was the cause of so much pain. Doubting himself that things will ever change for the better. One night, as he walks on the shore. He spotted something in the distance, something washed on the shore. Thinking it was perhaps a beached animal like a dolphin, he rushes to the shadow in hopes to put it back into the water. But when he arrives with his lantern, he isn't greeted with any marine creature, but the body of a man. The body of Henrik. Still alive, still clinging onto life, after being thrown into the ocean like nothing from the top of a cliff after being possessed by Anti.

He runs home fast caring Henrik, using magic to slam the door shut behind them. His little home is protected with his magic just in case Anti ever did find his location. Despite him not knowing if it would ever be enough, some help would be better than none.He lays the man on his bed, grabbing nearby medical supplies he has created for himself. He places his hand onto Henrik's chest and sends tiny bolts of electricity to shock his heart. Getting Henrik's heart beating again, he wakes up. Hacking up blood mixed with sea water and his own spit. Sitting up confused as to where he was and to who this strange man was beside him. Only mumbling the words "jack" over and over as he looks past Marvin and tries to get out of the bed but ultimately fails. Marvin tries to calm him down but his voice is getting louder with terror now saying "jack, JACK! CHASE!" names that have no meaning to Marvin but wants to get answers out of but to more importantly calm this man down

Marvin calming Henrik down eventually and Henrik stays put in bed. Examining his neck and tattered clothes, messy hair, and blood over his body. Debating if he should use magic to heal him or not since he has healed but only on himself with flesh wounds, not on another person, let alone a person he just met. He reaches out towards Henrik's throat direction till Henrik quickly grabs his hand and twists it in a self defense reflex. He decides to give the medical supplies he has to the man and for him to fix himself up since he clearly doesn't want more help. 

Henrik remains with Marvin for months, learning about each other. And, despite Henrik hating to see it and forced to believe it, seeing Marvin's magic at work and that even saving him. How magic and demons can even exist but apparently it does. They learn that they both caused the death of close friends, people that they miss and wish they could save. To turn back time and fix it all from ever happening.Henrik worried about his other friend, Chase, and how he is going to be without him. Marvin opening up and saying he is also worried how Jackie, his friend, is doing and is afraid if he left him for death since he isn't there to protect him. They both relate to their struggles and worries. 

As Henrik heals after these months, he says that he should go back home. But Marvin, despite knowing solitude now doesn't want to lose him now. He knows that there is a demon causing harm and the last thing that needs to happen is him falling victim again. They fight and yell, Henrik saying that he is leaving if Marv likes it or not till Marv locks the door on him keeping him inside. He says that Henrik has no idea what he is up against with that Demon. How he got luck to be alive. But Henrik makes it known that its time for him to leave and fix what he caused. But, he offers Marvin to come with him. To destroy Anti and to fix this. But he can't Marvin is too afraid of it all still. He refuses to leave safety.He unlocks the door and lets Henrik leave. Teleporting him to his home. Fearful as to what will happen to him and hoping he didn't make another mistake

When Henrik is gone Marvin seems to basically go back to his old life but even more focused on working out time travel magic. He can do so much than he had before and being with Henrik and knowing Anti is near really made him begin to question himself. That maybe this isn't the way to do this alone. He thinks about Henrik and Jackie often. The names of the people Henrik talked about, the people Marv has hurt. He sets up a candle circle that night. He shuts his eyes, searching. For Jackie. 

He sees him, alive and well, in his apartment. Marvs spirit manifesting into the room, not seen to Jackie. Debating if he should say anything to him but not knowing what to say. Happy to see Jackie alive but is afraid to show signs that he is there, that he is alive. He pauses in the room and looks over to Jackie's bed room door. He walks inside it through the walls. Still messy and chaotic as he remembers. He looks around and sees something though, a photo. The two of them Jackie took on his cell phone, showing off "new technology" as he called it to Marv. Printed out and framed sitting on a computer desk. He walks to it and picks it up, the apparition of the object becoming tangible to his invisible touch. He smiles a bit looking at it but is cut off hearing footsteps coming to the door. He looks at the photo and makes his movements known, placing the photo onto the bed. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, making that movement known and places it next to the frame. He vanishes from the scene before the footsteps reach the door. 

 Jackie opens up the door to be greeted with a moved photo. Confused since, despite him not being super tidy, makes sure not to move that. He walks over to it and sees the paper. Written on it says "I am alive. I am sorry, Jackie."  He holds onto the paper with a shaky hand. He hangs his head down and slowly beings to laugh till he lets out a big chuckle. "That son of a bitch" Relieved, his friend is alright.

Henrik storms off to get back home. As he approaches his house steps a sensation runs through his body. Without Marvin’s protection, Henrik yet again falls victim to Anti. His body twisted and manipulated no matter how hard he tries to fight it. Anti taking control once more as Henrik yells out. Making him go back to Jack's house from his little vacation in order to kill Jack off once and for all. However when they arrive, someone else is there instead. A father, a friend.

Chase being so happy to see Henrik despite not being able to recognize him at first since its been so long, sobbing at the sight of seeing his friend. Hugging him and breaking down but also filled with anger because he thought Henrik was dead and that he was the only one around who could help Jack. He tells Henrik everything about Jack and how he has been doing this for so long. How Jack is alive and in a coma and even he couldn't believe it. “Henrik” stays with Chase in the house, saying that he doesn’t want Chase to "worry about Jack and that he will take care of it" in a monotone voice. Anti using Henrik’s body however starts to shine through more and more each passing day. Chase coming across body parts and Henrik catching him, stating that “you weren’t suppose to find that”. Making Chase fear for what is going on because even though he knew Henrik to be out there and erratic, to bring things like that into Jack’s home was causing him to be nauseous.

Anti continuing on to the point where he is fed up with using the doctor’s body, gaining more power and mobility for something new,  and instead has an interest in using Chase’s. After all, he finds out that he is the one the millions of people are seeing now a days. The one that knows exactly where Jack is laying fast asleep. He once and for all discards Henrik’s body, exposing himself in his true form in the darkness of the house. A form that Chase eventually runs into one night in his house, alone, as red light fills a room. However, killing Chase would be too easy. Seeing him suffer so much, putting the poor man out of his misery would be too satisfactory for him. An endless loop of not being able to die and never knowing the whereabouts of one’s family, thinking all of this is just some sort of horrible game, is much more fitting.

Marvin, similar how he did with Jackie, reaches out to find Henrik. He misses him and is worried. He tries to find him but its all dark. He cant find him anywhere. Worried as he walks around the house no one is found. He does hear noises though and he thinks perhaps its him. He walks up the stairs to see a terrified man, yelling at an entity as to where his family is. The flickering flame of the lighter goes out and everything is quiet. Anti whispers into Marvin's ear words he cannot understand. He tries to teleport the terrified man out of there but can't, no matter how hard he tries he can't get the man to leave. He snaps back to his body and stumbles backwards, rushing to his feat and reading himself, hoping he didn't lead Anti to his home. 

He panics, that was Anti. That was the demon. Henrik can't be found and he is worrying that things are only getting worse. The poor man scared out of his wits. He knows he has to do something but he's afraid, he knows he can't do this alone. With a heavy heart, he teleports Jackie to his house. Completely off guard he looks at Marv completely shocked. A rush of anger, relief, happiness, and confusion rush over him. Yelling at Marv for leaving him but him also being so happy to see Marv again. Marvin states that hes sorry and he knows that he shouldn't of done that but he was just too afraid at the time, that death was all his doing. And he didn't want to lose another friend. He begs Jackie to help him with something. He plans on attacking Anti. But he asks Jackie to stay behind and help the bodies he will bring in and himself, for he knows that all of this will be too much for him. Jackie agrees and stays behind in the safety of the home as Marvin teleports to the house

Marvin arriving to put a protection spell around him as he tries to find Henrik’s body once more. But no matter how hard he tries, he cannot locate him. He then focuses on Chase instead and finds him, he places a protection spell on him. He rushes over to him, curled up and afraid, saying that he is going to try to get him out of this. Out of the corner of his eye he sees a shadow. He once again sees Anti face to face. All these years away, he has had enough of this. He stands in front of Chase, facing forward to the entity. They talk back and forth, Anti toying with his emotions and mind in hopes to make him explode out of rage instead of being smart with his powers. But for the most part, Marvin remains silent because he doesn’t want to fall victim for his games, not again. 

Anti glitching in and out of reality all around him, creating reality around them itself twist and morph at the scenes. He has finally had enough and Marvin focuses his energy to obliterate Anti, wanting to set him ablaze, cast him out to where he once came. Casting spell after spell, using so much as to what hes got. But all of this is draining on Marvin, for not only is he protecting himself, he is doing so with others. The energy within him is draining and he knows it. He has to either take the protection spell off of himself and face the fact that he won’t be able to beat Anti, or remove it slowly from the others and use it on him as long as he can because he knows he is the only one right now that can vanquish Anti. 

So, he does what he sadly knows he has to do, and thats the second option. Slowly taking it away from the others.  But he doesn’t want them to die but he knows they are only mortals with no powers, they can’t do anything to save themselves, he is the only one who can now. With all of his might, he tries to get Anti out of the building and away from all of everyone. But his magic is running thinner, he can’t do much more soon. He begins to take more and more hits and his mind begins to play tricks on him all because of Anti. 

He collapses to the ground, head spinning and ears ringing. Trying to get a second wind, looking up  his blurry vision sees Jameson standing above him. How Jamie looked before the incident. He almost half smiles to himself and shakes his head because he knows this is just a trick. He taunts Anti, knowing that Jameson is gone and that his tricks wont hurt him anymore. 

That is, till Jameson kicks him in the face. 

Marvin shocked and holding his face, to yet again be struck with another blow that was worse than before. Jameson reaching down to him and picking him up by the shirt, not saying a word, but the look on his face speaking a thousand words. Rage in his expression and deep hatred in his eyes. Jameson’s thoughts echoing in the white room that they are in. How Marvin caused this, how he left Jameson to die. How all he did was watch as he died, when he could of stopped Anti, as all of this happened. Marvin getting out of Jameson’s grasp and saying how he isn’t real, how Jameson isn’t real, that this trick has gone on long enough and it wont fool him any longer. The room cracking and Jameson smiles. 

He walks over to Marvin and grabs Marvin’s hand to then place it on his neck. He looks him dead in the eyes as the room booms once again, “This is not a trick, old sport.”

Marvin stumbling backwards and backing away from him slowly but Anti glitches in behind him to hold him. The room continuing to echo with Jameson’s thoughts, he explains in a rather cheerful tone that Anti gave him life again. Well, not exactly, but it was either stay by his side or suffer alone. And lets face it, being alone is not his style, the beloved motion picture star. Watching Anti all these years and being by his side was oh so wonderful. Seeing millions of people grasping onto Anti alone? The thought of him too having that admiration was just too glorious for him to give up and just die. The joy of working with him and being able to go throughout timelines beside him was just too amazing for him to let go of. Sure, he had thoughts of stopping and helping Jack, maybe even for a short time use his actions to aid him, but that was foolish of him to do. Anti making that abundantly clear. Being loyal towards Anti has payed off for him thus far, after all, he was the one that kept him alive when someone who he thought was his friend couldn’t even do that.

Marvin begins to beg out in desperation that he does still care for him, how all of these years he tried so long to go back in time to save him. But Jameson doesn’t believe a word. He only believes what he has been shown from Anti and has been taught for so long. He plans on helping Anti end all of this. He trusts Anti.Marvin reluctantly and with a heavy heart having no choice but to fight his best friend along with the monster that caused all of this grief. But, despite all his best efforts, he cannot take on the both of them alone. He gets bloody, beaten, and slowly hanging onto his last chance at life. He knows he cannot beat them, and he also knows death is approaching him soon. Him regretting taking so long to figure out his powers. How he cannot even prefect things now to be able to save people let alone himself. His best friend, the one that he so desperately wanted to save, is now having this mind set that all of this is justified and fine as he gets hit by every single punch, kick, and stab. 

He knows he doesn't have time left and he doesn't want to die yet. He uses his energy to give Chase some protection and vanishes as fast as he could out of there. 

 He comes home, beaten bloody and hardly breathing. Jackie rushing to Marv's side and holding him up, guiding him to the bed. Jackie talking him through this that everything will be okay. Trying not to get choked up at this sight as he rushes to close shelves of medicine and medical supplies that surly this would be enough to help some, that Marvin could have some energy left to heal himself. But Marvin lets out a weak call to Jackie's name and an open hand, just looking at him knowing that there is nothing they can do. Jackie trying not to cry as he goes back to Marv's side and holds his hand tightly.Marvin saying how he knew this was a dumb idea, how all of this was his own fault. But Jackie keeps denying it over and over. Marvin squeezing his hand, saying that "I might not of been best for these powers. All those super heroes you talk about are kind, caring, helpful. Thats not me Jackie. But you, you are that. You can handle these powers, better than I ever could. Please..Jackie. I know you can end all of this." 

Jackie sobbing and holding Marvin's hand giving it a squeeze, kneeling down to be eye level with him on the bed side. Saying doubts that he could do it. But Marvin pleads one more, he doesn't want to die with these powers, he doesn't want to die and have no one be able to save people, to fix things. or worse, those powers falling into that already powerful demon Jackie shuts his eyes and nods his head yes. Marvin sending shocks of powerful burning energy into Jackie's body through his hand. Leaving his body cold and still.

Jackie opens his eyes to see Marvin's lifeless body. He holds him close, sobbing as he hugs onto him tightly, thunder rolling in loud and fast outside. Letting out a loud blood curdling scream, lightning strikes the ocean water outside as he calls out in agony over the loss of a dear friend.

His corpse lays inside the house, all alone. Jackie leaving his friend to rest with flowers, a clean home, and photo of them together being held in his hand. Tiny lights flickering in the quiet home. The fire goes out. Cold wind blows in and a dark shadow lures over Marvin's corpse. His eyes open up solid black. Marvin and Jameson are reunited once more, soul bound to the Demon they conjured.

[psychovigilantewrites]

Chapter 9 - 5 Things

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Genre: Smut/Action

Word count: 7,211

Ao3 

Masterlist

A/N: Wow, two chapters in one week! Don't expect this to keep this going lol! This chapter has major trigger warnings for: non-consensual acts, anxiety/panic attacks, mentions/implications of r*pe, violence, drug/sedative use. 

Amazing mood board by: @brokenblossoms36 

Your head was spinning.

Your eyes were watery, your heart palpitating. You struggled to open your eyes, but all you saw was a blur of blinding light. You saw a shadow, a movement, but it was still unclear as the light was piercing your eyes. You tried to shield them with your hand, but found that you couldn’t move it.

You were seemingly tied to a chair.

How did you get there?

Your throat felt dry. A wave of nausea came over you and you gagged, but nothing came out. You blinked away the tears and squinted at the figure now looming in front of you, blocking the light.

It was all coming back to you now.

You were walking from the Academy to the nearest metro station, heading to the public library in Old Gotham- since your usual one burned down. You had noticed a hooded man following you from behind as you turned into a secluded street.

You remember slightly panicking, because despite your training and reflexes, he was much much faster than you were. The next thing you knew, you woke up right where you were.

Your vision cleared as the cloud in your mind disappeared.

Red Hood was looking down at you, arms crossed. This close and vulnerable, he seemed taller than you remembered.

You also remembered that you weren’t Robin at the time. You were a spoiled girl adopted by the billionaire Bruce Wayne.

“W-where am I?” you squeaked, “Wh-who are you?”

Red Hood simply stared.

You tried on the ropes that he tied you with. It was tight, well knotted. You wouldn’t be able to get out of those without assistance.

“P-please,” you quivered your bottom lip, “Please don’t hurt me.”

Silence.

No windows. You couldn’t see a door either. The bright light almost completely blinded you to the dark room you were in.

“My dad is Bruce Wayne,” you pressed on, “He’ll give you whatever you want, just please don’t hurt me.”

You started sobbing, going hysterical in panic.

Then, Red Hood started chuckling. “You’re not a bad actor,” he said.

“I- I- I don’t know what you’re t-t-talking about,” you stuttered in breaths, “Please, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone, I p-pr-omise.”

“Quit the act, baby girl, you’re boring me,” he turned around and walked away from you.

Despite your commitment to acting, you couldn’t help but notice his well sculpted ass that was on your eye level as he strutted away.

“W-wha?” you continued, “Please, mister, I don’t know anything. Please let me go.”

Red Hood leaned against a metal table you only just noticed, “I prefer you snarky and bitchy. This isn’t fun. Quit the act before I make you.”

He was calm, as he always was.

You did suspect that he knew your identities, but you couldn’t risk it.

“You’ve got the wrong girl,” you wailed, “I’m not who you think I am! Please, sir, you have to believe me!”

“You know, I never asked,” he began, “How’s Nightwing?”

“N-nightwing?” you gave a watery hiccup.

“Yes, Nightwing, your older brother, Dick Grayson, ex-Robin, Boy Wonder, et cetera et cetera,” he waved his hand, “What else must I tell you to get you to stop? Bruce Wayne is Batman? How about Barbara Gordon is Oracle? Ring any bells?”

You couldn’t help the shock that appeared on your face. If he knew about Barbara, he was more than just a crazy conspiracy theorist. You decided to drop the act.

You gave one last sniffle and looked at him coldly, relaxing against the cool metal chair that you noticed were bolted to the cement floor.

“There she is,” he walked nearer to you again, noting your immediate change of expression when you conceded.

“He will find me, you know,” you told him.

“I disabled the GPS tracker on your phone. Also the one in your pendant,” he nodded at the jewel around your neck that you wore every day. Bruce had gifted it to you on the first year anniversary of your adoption. It was a silver robin with a small diamond glittering on its breast.

You didn’t even know there was a tracker on it. You mentally cursed Bruce for disguising it in a form of sentiment.

“So what do you want, Red?” you demanded. Surprisingly, you were calm. You didn’t feel any fear. Something told you that he wouldn’t hurt you.

“Nothing in particular,” he shrugged, “Maybe I just wanted you all to myself.”

You scoffed.

“What?” he bent down to meet you in the eye. You could see your own reflection on the white lenses of his mask. “Can’t I just want you? I haven’t seen you in so long. Didn’t you miss me?”

You glared at him. The fucker was mocking you. He was right about you missing him, but still.

“Because I missed you, baby girl.”

Even with the voice scrambler, you noticed his voice had dropped an octave. You gulped, and for some reason, butterflies filled your tummy.

He straightened up, “You look so cute in your uniform. The skirt. Which sexist pig designed it that short and made underage girls wear them?”

He squatted down in front of you and tilted his head. “Pink? Adorable.”

You grit your teeth. You could practically hear him grin. You tried to close your thighs but your legs were tied to the chair, forcing them slightly apart.

“Don’t tell me you kidnapped me just to tie me up and take a peek at my panties, Red,” you scowled.

“I’ve done crazier things, baby girl,” he stood up, “What’s wrong with a little talk?”

“So. Talk,” you hissed.

He reached out an arm towards your face. You forced yourself not to wince and maintained eye contact. He caressed your cheek with his gloved hand, his thumb trailing down to press against your lips.

You bit it.

“Fuck!” he recoiled, and then chuckled, “Should have expected that. I do love your feisty side anyway.”

“You don’t know me, Red. Just because you know my identity, it doesn’t mean shit,” you spat.

“I know you’re not who you pretend to be,” he gripped you by the hair and forced you to face him. The slightly rough pull made your breath hitch. “I know you try to hide it from everyone. You're not the good girl people think you are.”

“The same could be said for every other angsty teen. Try better,” you retorted.

He released your hair and chuckled again, “I really did miss you.‘’

“I’ve been busy, you see. Things to do, people to kill, the usual,” he went on, “Did you see what I left for everyone?‘’

“You mean Black Mask? Sorry to break it to you, but it wasn't much of a surprise. It was either you or him eventually,” you rolled your eyes.

“You really are a bitch, aren’t you?” he hummed.

“That's what you get for tying me to a chair,” you snapped.

“You people ought to be more grateful towards me,” he stated.

“Grateful? Really?” you condescended.

“Black Mask was a gift,” he claimed, “Now you have one crime lord less in the streets.”

“Yet here I am tied to a chair,” you sassed.

“Get over it, even the Bat’s done worse than this,” he chided.

“So what makes you so different from Black Mask? You think you're better than him?” you stated. You would be lying if you said that you hadn't tried to answer that question yourself. That you didn't lie awake at night justifying his actions.

“My, oh, my. Don't tell me you still haven't figured it out?” he mocked you, “I don't do this for any profit. In fact, I'm just like one of you.”

“You are not one of us,” you growled, “We don't kill. We're not barbaric like you are.”

“Which is why you won't ever get anywhere!” he argued, “That's what the Bat always failed to get. You can't stop crime. But you can control it. Thats what I'm doing. And I take the necessary steps to achieve it. The Bat is a coward.”

“You're wrong,” you defended, “He doesn't kill not because he's a coward. It's so much more than that. A person like you would never understand.”

“A person like me, huh?” he suddenly said quietly, the direction of his gaze fell towards the side, as if he was reminiscing. The change of tone surprised you. It made you think that maybe he wasn't always bad.

But it didn't matter who he used to be. What matters is who he is now.

“I'll make you see eventually, you'll understand soon enough,” he squatted down in front of you again, “but for now, let's talk about us.”

“Us?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, baby girl, us. Don't you feel like there's something between us? I feel like there's a spark,” he adopted his tone of mocking again.

“Fuck off,” you snarled.

“I'd be lying if I said I don't think of you as I lie in bed, touching myself. You'd be lying if you said the same right?” he put his gloved hands on your bare thighs. You could feel his heat beneath the leather.

You'd be lying if you said that didn't excite you just a little bit.

“You're too full of yourself,” you responded, “And I happen to have a boyfriend. You're the only pervert here.”

You obviously lied about the boyfriend part. You wanted to seem like you had other things better to do than think of him.

Which, for some reason, seemed even more pathetic.

“Boyfriend?” he laughed, “So what? I bet that doesn't stop you from thinking of me.”

His hands slid up your thighs slowly, bunching up your skirt in the process.

“What are you doing?” your voice went high, “Stop that.”

“When was the last time you told a bad guy to stop and he actually did?” he asked.

He had a point.

Still, you didn't like the way that he didn't disgust you. You didn't like the way that he made you want him to go further up.

And further up he went.

Until he paused at the crease of your thighs, and then suddenly pressed a thumb on top of your clit. A jolt of pleasure shot through you.

“Stop it,” you repeated.

He ignored you again, this time pulling aside your panties and ran his middle finger up in between your lips. The middle finger you’ve thought about countless of times.

With the same thick finger, he pushed inside you slowly, all the way to his knuckles. You felt yourself automatically squeezing around him. You bit your lip.

He started sliding it out, and then back in again. It felt so different, having someone else's finger inside you.

Having his finger inside you.

Then, he curled his finger, hitting a spot inside you that you've never touched before, eliciting a soft moan from you.

Your eyes widen when you realised what you just did, and you turned your head away, blushing.

With that, he took his finger out, and then stood up. His crotch was at your eye level, and you could see his hard on straining against his pants. You didn't realise that your mouth watered at it.

“If only you wore skirts as part of your uniform, we could do that again whenever we meet,” he taunted you.

He didn't comment on your moan, nor the wetness that was left on his finger. Instead, he took off his glove and walked towards the table. His back was towards you now, and you couldn't tell what he was doing. You heard a rustle of plastic. He came back with a piece of black cloth from it and walked behind you.

Suddenly, you saw darkness. You began to struggle as he tied the blindfold, but his grip was too strong.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” you yelled.

“Relax, I'm blindfolding you so I can take off this stupid helmet,” you heard him say, and then you heard a heavy thump on the floor next to you.

“You motivate me, you know?” you heard him breathe in your ear, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand. He masked his voice similar to the way Batman did- it was raspy and gravelly. That close, you could smell him. He smelled like sweat, and leather, and gunpowder.

“You make me want to kill more and more,” he nipped your earlobe, “I killed someone for you, you know that? Did I get a thanks? Of course not.”

“What the hell are you on about?” you snarled.

“Fuck, you drive me insane,” he continued, ignoring your question. He used a hand to grip your hair and pull your head to the side, exposing your neck so he could lick a strip on your pulse. He then started sucking on your skin. “I’ve always wanted to mark you like this.”

You felt hot. You were panting, and the worst part was that you could feel yourself dampening your underwear more than before.

His other hand ripped your shirt open, buttons popping all over the floor. He pushed your bra upwards and grabbed a fist full of your right breast, squeezing hard.

“Mmm,” he moaned, “Finally, I get to feel them. You usually wear too much armor.”

You felt dizzy, hazy, blurry. You were utterly consumed by his heat. You tried so hard not to get turned on, but your body betrayed you.

“Tell me, why do you wear lip gloss while on patrol?” he continued sucking on another spot while he started rolling your nipples in between his fingers, “It makes me wonder how your lips would look like around me.”

You whimpered, and cursed internally. Who knew dirty talk would be your downfall.

“I knew you'd like this,” he chuckled at your reaction, “But I feel like you need a reminder of how scary I can actually be.”

You didn't need one. You knew how terrifying Red Hood was. You felt that fear the first time you met him, and again when he pointed the gun at you in that alley behind the bank. It seemed so long ago.

But that fear had long turned into curiosity. You weren't afraid anymore.

“Black Mask couldn't beg,” he rasped, “Because he was suffocating. I wonder what I should do to you.”

His hand went from your tits to around your neck. And then, and then, you felt it. The panic you felt the first time he got his hand around your neck.

You started thrashing about, anything to prevent him from getting a proper grip on you. But unfortunately, you were tied down.

And he was standing behind you, strong hands around your neck.

“Remember this, baby girl?” he started squeezing, “Doesn't this feel nostalgic?”

He was pressing on your carotid arteries, making you even dizzier than you already were, but you could still gasp for breath.

“I still have a syringe of what I gave Black Mask to paralyse him, I wonder what I should do to you?” he then suddenly released you, making you cough and gag, tears streaming down your face.

“I wouldn't want to ruin that pretty face,” you heard his voice move in front of you, “Maybe I should just keep you here to myself and use you. This job gets stressful. You'd be my own personal fuck toy. I'd ruin your cunt over and over again. You want that?”

Your mind began to race. Would he actually do that? No. No, even if he did, it didn't matter. Because Batman will-

“And then you will know how Batman really is,” he stressed, “You'll cling on to the hope that he's out there looking for you. That he won't give up on you. Batman would be the only thing keeping you sane.”

Yes, yes he was right. Bruce would find you.

“But you know what he’ll do instead?” he continued, voice shaking in evident anger, “He will just forget about you. Even after you're dead and he catches me, all he’ll do is lock me up behind bars. And then he’ll replace you with another child soldier to brainwash.”

No. Bruce wouldn't do that. He loved you. He wouldn't give up. He wouldn't move on.

Would he?

Panic started to rise again, you felt yourself hyperventilating for the first time. What was wrong with you? You couldn't break down just after being kidnapped. Why would you feel this sense of impending doom?

No, it's just Red Hood getting to you. You were just giving him what he wants.

“That's more like the reaction I was looking for,” you heard him growl. You flinched when you felt his hand on your cheek. He was wiping away at your tears, and he was surprisingly gentle.

“There, there,” he sighed, “I’m not going to do that to you. I don't hurt innocents. Though you're far from it.”

You tried to calm yourself down. He was just looking for a reaction?

“I just want you to see Bruce for who he really is, baby girl,” he explained, still caressing your cheek. You found yourself leaning into his warmth, “And I want you to see me for who I really am, and what I've been doing for Gotham.”

Before you could even think of responding, you felt something spray on your face, and then everything faded to black.

***

The first thing you noticed was an annoying beeping sound.

And hushed whispers.

You opened your eyes, blinking away the grogginess. You were on a bed that wasn’t your own, in a room that was unfamiliar.

A hospital room. Private, high end. You tried to prop yourself up, suddenly-

“No, no, lie back down, honey,” an aging woman pushed you gently back into the pillows, where you laid back reclined. “I’ll go get the doctor and your father for you.”

Shortly after, in came Bruce, who rushed to you immediately.

“How are you feeling? Are you okay? What happened?” he bombarded you with questions and more than just his usual serious look on his face.

“I-”

“Mr. Wayne, please,” said a man in a white coat behind him, “She needs to recover first.”

“Yes, yes, of course. I’m sorry,” Bruce stepped back and cleared his throat.

You were taken aback. You’ve never seen Bruce this way before.

The doctor flashed his penlight in both your eyes, and told you to follow it. He then performed a thorax auscultation on you.

“Hello, Miss Wayne. I’m Dr. Kevins. I’m going to have to check several things to make sure you’re doing well. Is that okay?”

You nodded.

“Do you feel dizzy?” he asked you, “Does your head hurt?”

“I feel a bit nauseated actually,” you croaked, “And thirsty.”

“We’ll get you some water just a sec,” he smiled kindly. He looked like he was around his late forties, with greying hair and sunken eyes. “The nausea is probably caused by the sedative he used on you. It’ll go away in an hour or so. But most importantly, do you feel any pain anywhere else?”

“No,” you shook your head, “My neck is a bit sore, but that’s it.”

The doctor pursed his lips, and then looked at Bruce, “Excuse me, Mr. Wayne, but would you please step outside for a moment?”

“Why?” he protested.

“It’s okay, doctor,” you voiced, “I know what you’re going to ask me. No, my genitalia does not hurt. He didn’t do anything to me.”

“Okay then,” he sighed a breath of relief, “We did a physical on you while you were unconscious. It doesn’t look like anything’s wrong, except for a little dehydration. We just wanted to make sure.”

“Cool,” you shrugged, “Can someone tell me what happened?”

“We found you unconscious outside our emergency room on the floor,” the doctor responded, “We checked the security footage and saw a man in a red helmet walk in and left you there. He is a wanted criminal. The police are right outside to ask you a few questions. If you’re not ready for that, I’ll make them wait.”

“I’m fine, you can call them in,” you told him.

The doctor left to get the cops, and you and Bruce shared a long eye contact, silently communicating. I’ll tell you everything later, you tried to convey.

He gave you a stiff nod.

“Mr. Wayne, Miss Wayne,” Gordon himself came in through the door, “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m hungover, Commissioner,” you smiled.

“I’m going to ignore that, since you’re underaged,” he chuckled, “Can I ask you a few questions?”

“Shoot.”

He took out a pen and a small notebook from his trench coat.

“What was the last thing you remember before you blacked out?” he began.

“I was walking to the metro station,” you explained, “It was around two in the afternoon. I noticed someone following me, but didn’t think much of it. I remember turning into a secluded area, and then I heard him running towards me. Before I could turn around, I just… Went black. It happened so fast.”

“And this man, what did he look like?”

“He was big. Maybe around Bruce’s size, but I can’t be sure. I couldn’t see his face. He was wearing a baseball cap and had a hoodie on,” you struggled to remember any other details about the man behind the mask.

“What happened next?”

“I woke up in a dark room, with this really bright light shining at me. I couldn’t see any windows, or doors. I was tied to a chair,” you pretended to tremble, “I was so scared.”

“I know, Miss Wayne,” Gordon comforted you, “I’m sorry for doing this, but I absolutely have to ask you to recall everything, before you forget. It’s essential to catch the man responsible for this.”

“I know,” you wiped away a single tear, “It’s okay. I saw a man in a red helmet. But not like a motorcycle helmet. It covered his whole face. And it had white eyes. It looked weird.”

“Did he have a red bat symbol on his chest?” Gordon pressed.

“Uhm,” you bit your lip, “I think so. I can’t- I can’t be too sure. It was dark, and the light blinded me.”

“That’s okay, you’re doing real good Miss Wayne,” Gordon smiled.

You held back a smile at how well Gordon treated you. If only he knew you were the same girl who witnessed Black Mask’s peeled face.

“I- I’m not sure what he wanted,” you stuttered, “He t-touched me. But not there!”

You had to reveal it. There was no hiding it from Bruce this time, thanks to the probable hickies on your neck.

“He… I think he didn’t know who I was,” you invented your lie, “But when I told him I was Bruce Wayne’s daughter, he immediately stopped whatever he was doing. Maybe he didn’t want to mess with Bruce, since he’s… rich and all.”

“There’s no doubt your father is rich, Miss Wayne, but I don’t think something like that would stop him,” Gordon huffed, his forehead scrunched up in a frown deeper than before, “This is interesting. Why would he be scared of you, Mr. Wayne?”

“Maybe he thinks I’m Batman,” Bruce simply shrugged.

You coughed out loud in shock.

“Well, he wouldn’t be the first person out there,” Gordon smirked, “No offense, Bruce, but you’re hardly the crime fighting type.”

“None taken, Jim,” Bruce grinned, “I can’t afford to get my face injured. It’s what gets investors after all.”

“What happened after that?” Gordon rolled his eyes at Bruce and turned back to you. “Did you hear any sounds? Maybe water, or vehicles? Was there anyone else there?”

“Th- that’s all I remember,” you scratched your head, “Next thing I knew, I was here.”

“Okay,” Gordon closed his notepad, “Thank you, Miss Wayne. I’m sorry that something like this happened to you. This one’s a bit tricky but I promise we’ll catch him.”

“I don’t doubt it, Commissioner,” you have him a big grin.

He paused for a moment, suddenly staring at you with an intense look in your eyes, as if he was searching for something.

“What’s wrong?” your smile faltered.

“No- nothing,” he shook his head, “You just- remind me of someone.”

“Your beautiful daughter perhaps?” you suggested.

“Y- yeah,” he nodded slowly, “Yeah, that’s it. You and Barbara both have the same smile.”

“What a compliment,” you giggled.

“You get well soon, Miss Wayne,” he nodded at you and at Bruce, “Mr. Wayne.”

“Commissioner,” Bruce nodded back.

Gordon left.

“That was close,” you breathed a sigh of relief.

Bruce pulled the sofa nearer to your bed.

“Are you really okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, “Just tired.”

“I’ll let you rest. We’ll talk when we get back,” Bruce got up to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“To deal with the press,” he fixed his hair and tie at the glass window, reflecting his handsome face, “Bruce Wayne’s daughter missing for 24 hours and then found on the emergency room floor? The media is going crazy.”

“I bet,” you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, drifting to sleep once more.

You thought you felt a pair of lips press themselves on your forehead.

*** “So. What really happened?” Bruce asked once you settled down in the manor.

You finally got discharged from the hospital after another day they kept you under observation. The both of you were now in the dining room, finishing up a light dinner.

You put down your cutlery and took a deep breath.

“How he got me was the truth, and I woke up in a dark room with a bright light shining in my eyes. First I acted like a civilian, crying and begging. I told him that my father was Bruce Wayne and that he would give him anything for my release,” you began your story, “But he told me to drop the act. I didn't. I acted dumb. And then he asked me how Nightwing was. How Dick Grayson, my older brother was. He told me he knew you were Batman. But what really hit the jackpot, was the fact that he knew Barbara was Oracle.”

Bruce leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on the table, his chin on top of his knuckles.

“So I decided to drop it,” you continued, “I figured if he knew that, he was more than just… One of those crazy conspiracy theorists. Anyway, I asked him what he wanted and he… He was just playing around.”

“Playing around?”

“Yeah, like he wasn't being serious about it. Like he kidnapped me just to mock me. He told me that… He missed me,” you avoided eye contact with Bruce, “He also said something about how we should appreciate what he does for Gotham. That he was technically one of us.”

“Hmm.”

“Yeah, exactly my thought,” you agreed, “He has this delusion that he's doing good, more good than we are. He mentioned Black Mask, and how he was a gift. Because now there's one less crime lord in the streets. I told him that he's not like us. We don't kill. And then- and then he got a bit emotional.”

“How so?”

“Well, the whole time he was relatively calm. But when we got to the topic of you,” you hesitated, “He seemed frustrated. He said it's the one thing you will never get. He said that you can't stop crime, and you can only control it. And that's what he was doing.”

“He thinks he is controlling crime?”

“Yes,” you nodded.

“And what about… All that,” Bruce gestured to his own neck instead of yours.

You thought of how he touched you, how he had his hands underneath your panties and put his finger inside you. You decided to leave that out.

“He came up behind me and blindfolded me,” you started blushing, “He took off his helmet and-”

“He took off his helmet?” Bruce looked at you, the creases in between his eyebrows deepening, his shoulders suddenly tense.

“Yes, but I couldn't see anything,” you told him, “I was blindfolded.”

You noticed how Bruce relaxed his shoulders- very slightly.

“He said I motivated him,” you continued, “He masked his voice- like how you always do. I didn't recognise it.”

“Go on.”

“He said he killed for me,” you frowned, now remembering that odd statement he made, “I don't know what he meant by that. He never clarified. And then- he started to- do this.”

You waved at your neck, still avoiding eye contact.

“And then he started choking me,” you quickly went on, “He said he was considering keeping me there and… Tormenting me. And that the only thing that would keep me sane is the thought of you coming for me. But then he said that you wouldn't. That you would just… Replace me.”

You glanced at Bruce now, who was just silent, absorbing in everything you were saying. There was on odd expression in his eyes. Was it sadness?

“The last thing he said to me was that he wanted me to see you for who you really are, and see him for who he really is and what he's doing for Gotham.”

You waited for a response.

Finally, Bruce said “I see.”

Very anticlimactic.

“What do you see?” you prompted.

“It's even clearer now that he targeted you to get to me. He's trying to turn you against me,” Bruce spoke.

“I think I got that already,” you rolled your eyes, “But why? And what's this about replacing me?”

He remained silent, staring into space.

“Bruce,” you began, “We’ve been through this. You need to tell me things.”

“There's nothing to tell.”

“There's obviously something to tell,” you argued, “I just got kidnapped by him! Isn't it time for you to tell me who he is?”

“I don't know who he is,” he insisted.

“That's a big fat lie and you know it,” you accused.

“I'm lying for your own good!” he started to raise his voice.

“My own- my own good?” you scoffed, and then stood up, “Haven't you been paying attention, Bruce? I. Got. Kidnapped. By. Him. Obviously keeping me in the dark is not helping.”

“Back down,” Bruce rose from his seat as well to tower over you, “Now.”

“Don't you care about me Bruce?!” you yelled

“Of course I care! Which is why-”

“Don't give me that bullshit!” you fumed, “You keep on telling me to trust you-”

“I said back down, Robin-”

“But trust goes both wa-”

“BACK DOWN, JASON!”

You gaped at him, not believing your ears. You've always been insecure. You always thought that Bruce either adopted you out of guilt, or worse.

As a replacement.

It was the first time he ever mistakenly called you him.

The ghost of Jason Todd had caught up to you.

“I mean- I meant-” Bruce tried to correct himself, horrified at what he had just said.

You turned and left.

***

He was tired.

Jason was tired.

The rain made his bones ache.

The past few weeks had taken a toll on him. He went out almost every single night to do his job- be it kill a few people, extract information, deal with Moehler’s international contacts, and also deal with the people under him who has broken rules or planned to start a coup. They thought he didn't know. He’ll deal with them later.

He had gotten back from his money collecting run, taking the profits from the people beneath him. Through whispers and some interrogating, he found out about some insignificant rebels. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with those now.

He took a shower, and laid naked in bed, splayed on his back.

He probably should put on some clothes. It was getting cold.

Though, he was used to it.

There were so many times when he was a kid living in the streets that he had to deal with the cold without much insulation. Even when he had a roof over his head, it wasn’t like his parents paid for a heater.

Parents.

The reason why he became Robin was because his parents were bad. The reason why he died was because his biological mother betrayed him. And the reason why he was who he is now-

No. Bruce was never a father to him. He refused to admit it.

Bruce was just looking for a soldier to brainwash.

A soldier like you. He had brainwashed you pretty well. Jason wondered what words of encouragement Bruce had given to you, that he probably gave Jason as well, all those years ago.

When Jason saw you start to panic, he knew. He knew that you knew deep down, Jason was right. Which meant that Bruce probably had not changed since Jason died.

Did Bruce ever tell you “good job”? Did Bruce ever fuss over your injuries? Did Bruce ever gave you affection?

He doubted it.

After all, Jason knew Bruce. The only thing Bruce cared about was his past.

Justice.

Or so Bruce liked to call his own insecurities, an excuse to not move on from the traumatic childhood he faced.

Bruce was the fucked up one here, not Jason.

Jason was perfectly sane.

Not that he cared about how Bruce raised you. Not that he cared that you were probably facing the same problems he did, all those years ago. After all, Jason was just using you to get to him. He knew what he was doing was obvious, but it didn’t matter.

It only took one trigger- and you would spiral. As long as you had any doubt about Bruce, Jason’s plan would work.

“Fuck,” he said out loud. The rain outside was hitting hard like pellets on his metal roof.

Jason was tired.

He closed his eyes, and remembered how you looked when he started touching you. How your breath hitched, how your voice went high, how you let out the tiniest moan.

Jason smirked to himself.

You were probably craving him all those weeks you didn’t meet- it was part of his plan after all. And the moment he gave you all the attention you wanted, you got wet.

Withdraw, and then attack.

It was an excellent strategy. To get you to miss him so much that you welcomed his touch.

And welcome him you did.

Jason wasn’t blind. He saw how you looked at his hard on straining against his pants.

Remembering those scenes again made blood shoot to his cock. He remembered finally being able to feel your tits.

Fuck.

He reached down and fisted his cock- now hard and leaking. He gave himself a few light strokes, remembering how much he wanted to fuck you right then and there.

The glove.

He opened his eyes and walked towards his backpack, his erection slapping his lower belly with every step, and took out the ziplock he had put his glove in. He took it out, and collapsed on the bed again.

He was wearing the glove when he fingered you.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the glove.

The smell of leather was overpowering, but faintly, he smelled you. He kept it in a ziplock bag for a reason.

It was equivalent to panty sniffing, and Jason thought about how absolutely pathetic he was being- but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Because you always drove him insane anyway.

His cock was leaking on his stomach, and he stroked himself to the faint sweet tangy smell of your juices on his glove. Maybe he should have taken a taste instead.

Would that have driven you wild as much as it would him?

God, and your tits. It was so soft, so supple, and it was spilling in his hand. He just wanted to see it bounce. Why must you wear so much armor?

Jason was sweating now despite the cold, the sound of rain outside drowning his pants and moans.

He wouldn’t call it backfire, but Jason’s plan to not see you for so long also affected him more than he thought it would.

He stroked himself faster, and squeezed himself tighter, imagining your mouth drooling over the head of his cock.

Fuck. He told you your lip gloss made him think of that, didn’t he? And what did you do? You fucking whimpered.

“Fuck,” Jason groaned. He loved how much you liked it when he talked dirty to you. He loved how you tightened around his finger.

Pleasure and heat built up and spread, making his toes curl. Finally, he came all over his fist, spilling onto his abdomen.

He huffed.

After cleaning up, he decided to text you. It was about time anyway.

Hey, Princess. I'm sorry I haven't texted you in so long. Life just got in the way, and I was facing some personal issues. I hope you're not mad. Anyway, I read about what happened in the papers. Putting the fact that you didn't tell me you were THE Wayne kid aside, are you okay? he sent the text.

He was hoping to prey on your kindness and understanding.

And he saw you typing back almost immediately.

Hey, Jason. Don't worry, I'm not mad. I completely understand. I've had times like that too. And I'm okay, a bit shaken up, but still okay. Also, you didn't tell me your last name so why would I tell you yours? you replied with a winky face at the end.

Touché. Would you be up to meeting me at Robinson Park tomorrow? I'll get you ice cream. It’s the least I could do, he asked.

That would be great! I’ll see you around three? you texted back.

It’s a date, doll, Jason sent with another winky face.

He knew that one text would make you giddy with excitement.

*** Jason was self-conscious in public.

Whenever he walked in the daylight without his helmet on, he felt like everyone was staring at him, judging him. His scars, his scowl, his crooked nose that had been broken and reset again so many times.

So he usually kept his head down, and his calloused hands in his pockets, avoiding the glares he knew deep down was just part of his imagination.

Until he saw you waiting at the park bench wearing a white sundress, the slight breeze blowing your hair, the sunlight shining on your skin.

He straightened up, confidence returning, and even before you saw him, he smiled.

It wasn’t like you made him happy, it wasn’t like he was looking forward to seeing you. Nor was it because you made him feel like the Jason Todd who never died.

No, he was just getting into character in advance.

A character to fool you, manipulate you, corrupt you.

“So, do you come here often?” he said when he crept up to you, making you jump.

“You scared me!” you laughed, slapping him on the arm lightly. And then, your smile faded ever so slightly, and a slight crease between your brows formed, “Not many people can sneak up on me like that.”

“My friends always did say I was light on my feet,” he shrugged, sitting down on the bench next to you, “Could be useful in the force, actually.”

“Definitely,” you grinned.

He noticed the bruises he left on your neck were absent- probably hidden by layers of makeup. He was slightly disappointed. His hickies on your skin would have looked amazing as a contrast to the low cut sundress you were wearing.

“So how are you?” he asked, “Wayne?”

You rolled your eyes, “Like I said, you didn’t offer me your last name, too. Plus, my picture’s everywhere.”

“I don’t really keep up with the news, sweetheart,” Jason replied, “Why would I care about other people’s adopted daughters?”

“I guess that’s true,” you conceded, “You’re one in a million, then. Everyone’s obsessed with that kind of information these days.”

“So enlighten me then,” Jason said, “How did Bruce Wayne come to adopt you?”

“Well,” you started, “My parents have always been trying to get close to him. They invited him for those fancy galas and charity dinners. I remember always seeing him around. When they died, and I was left with nothing and no one, he decided to adopt me.”

“Any particular reason he chose to adopt you?” Jason prompted.

You bit your lip. And then, Jason noticed that your eyes started tearing up.

“Oh, no,” Jason responded, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. We don’t have to talk about it.”

What was up with you?

“No, no,” you sniffed, wiping away your tears with the back of your hand, “I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m so stupid. I’ve just… been wondering about that too.”

Finally, Jason thought. He thought you would never have figured out you were always meant to be his replacement. He wondered what happened between you and Bruce. He had no doubt that the kidnapping triggered it.

Just as he planned.

“Hey, look at me,” he took your chin in his hand and tilted your head to face him.

Fuck.

It was the wrong move. Because seeing you teary eyed, red nosed, lower lip trembling, so close to him. So vulnerable.

It made his cock twitch.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Jason tried to pull himself together, “Or if you just want a shoulder to cry on, I’ll gladly offer you mine.”

With his thumb, he wiped away a tear that fell on your cheeks. He could see how your long lashes clumped together in the wetness, how your skin was slightly flushed.

He wanted to kiss you and tell you everything was going to be okay.

The thought shocked Jason. So much so that he jolted away from you.

“I- I’m sorry,” Jason sputtered, “I probably crossed a line, or something.”

He looked away, not wanting you to see the panic that was rising. No, no, not here. Not now.

“It’s okay,” he heard your voice, but it seemed so far away, “Jason?”

He tried to calm his breathing. He fisted the material of his jeans and took deep breaths. 5 things that he could see.

The green grass. The blue sky. Someone’s red frisbee flying. Little yellow flowers. Kids running around.

4 things that he could touch.

His denim. The wooden bench. The gravel beneath his feet. Your warm hands.

3 things that he could hear.

A dog barking. The bells from the ice cream man. Your voice calling him out, getting nearer.

2 things he could smell.

His own cologne. And your shampoo.

1 thing he could taste.

He turned to face you and crashed his lips against yours, surprising you. But Jason felt you relax against him, and kissed him back.

Your lip gloss was strawberry flavoured.

Jason broke the kiss, and blushed at you, “I’m sorry. I never know how to act when I’m with you.”

He saw you take the bait. Your wide, curious eyes fluttered downwards in embarrassment.

“That’s okay,” you tucked your hair behind your ear, “I feel the same way.”

“I promised you ice cream didn’t I?” he stood up, and offered you his hand, “Shall we?”

[ariesfm-blog]

            hi ! my name is link ! i go by he / they pronouns , am 21+ & live in the cst timezone ! i’m an obnoxious aries & this is my idiot , max , who also happens to be an obnoxious aries because i believe in writing what i know JHGKFDLHLF . i’m really excited to be here , because plotless slice of life rps are my thing & i’m excited to get to know all of you & write with you !!! under the cut you’ll find misc. info & some wanted connections , but here are links to his stats page & his pinterest board , which hopefully will give you some extra insight . feel free to like this if you’d like to plot .but if you wanna plot on d*scord ( which is easier for me ) you can add me @ demogorgon ramsay#0039 !

( johnny seo, cismale, he/him ) who is that ? oh, it’s just MAXWELL “MAX” BAE the TWENTY-FOUR year old has been in beauhart for HIS WHOLE LIFE and is currently a BARTENDER. i’ve heard they can be CONFIDENT and HONEST, but also IMPATIENT and BRASH. maybe that’s why their anthem is SANCTUARY by JOJI and CAFFEINE JITTERS, DIRTY CONVERSE PAIRED WITH ALIEN SOCKS, PHONE NUMBERS WRITTEN ON NAPKINS makes me think of them.

misc. info : ( cw : mentions of death & drug use )

his mother died giving birth to him. though he doesn’t remember her ( obviously ) he still holds a bit of guilt & think it’s his fault that she died. but his dad is always quick to snuff that line of thought & holds absolutely no ill will towards max about it

all he’s ever heard is good things about her so he loves her or the idea of her really. he likes to imagine himself in the stories people tell him about her & it’s a comfort to him. it makes him feel like he kind of grew up with her even though he never got to meet her

his dad is a sweet person. full of laughs & kindness. also bad jokes ( this is where max gets his own humor from ). he’s the kind of dad that people wish for. he’s always been supportive of max no matter what & he listens to him whenever he needs it

when they were little they played catch & watched yu-gi-oh together. max still has all his yu-gi-oh cards stuffed in his closet somewhere. now they’re more likely to sit on his dad’s front porch & drink together while listening to music

his dad has never dated or remarried after his wife died because that was his soulmate & he doesn’t want to settle for anyone else & his dad has always told max to find that one person for him

max was miserable in school. he wasn’t good at it & none of it made any sense to him. so he struggled in graduating high school. & he tried college but he couldn’t stand it so he dropped out thankfully with no negative feedback from his dad

he’s kind of anxious & fidgety so it’s hard for him to pay attention ( anxiety & adhd nation make some noise !!! ) but if he gets focused on a project he’ll ignore his need to eat or anything else to work on it

he picked up making drinks from his dad at a young age ( imagine a twelve year old making cocktails that’s basically how it was ) & is really good at it so naturally he became a bartender. it’s not his dream job per se but he enjoys it a lot & makes good tips from it so he has no complaints about it

basically he’s pretty happy-go-lucky but he’s also an idiot & annoying about it. he can seem friendly enough at first but once you get close to him he’ll turn up that aries personality & get on your nerves ( but he’s also like a leech & will stick to you )

he’s really into aliens. he even has a ufo tattoo ! he will fight with anyone who doesn’t believe in them ( or cryptids or the supernatural in general ). the x-files is his favorite show & he wishes to be fox mulder every day of his life. he’s also a diehard boogara

he’s a big conspiracy theorist. he believes in lizard people, the illuminati & that queen elizabeth is a cannibal & that’s how she’s stayed alive for so long. he’s very paranoid about stuff. he’s one of those people who read the terms & conditions on everything so that he doesn’t agree to some company stealing his dna & selling it on the dark web. he also refuses to pick up the phone because he thinks the government is listening in on them ( he only makes calls when he’s high & out of it )

& he loves true crime. he’s always listening to true crime podcasts & watching true crime docs

he loves energy drinks & coffee. he drinks them so much that he’s shaking about 75% of the day but he never listens when people tell him he’s gonna get a heart attack

he’s messy. his apartment is messy. his hair is messy. his entire energy is just messy. but he thinks his personality makes up for it

he can kinda cook but honestly he’s lazy & just prefers to order in food 95% of the time. also he has a bad habit of forgetting stuff like he’ll turn the oven on then get distracted then wonder what the weird smell in his place is

for the most part he’s nice but he does participate in “friendly” dragging. if you’re friends he will clown you & sometimes he can hurt someone’s feelings even when he doesn’t mean to ( more than likely he will not apologize for it he’ll just ignore it til the other person gets over it hopefully )

always losing his headphones. he settles for those crappy $5 earbuds that you find at dollar stores so he won’t feel bad for losing them anymore. honestly he loses everything. who knows how many sets of keys he’s gone through

he’s super clumsy. always tripping, always running into stuff. he’s broken a million glasses at the bar

he’s pretty flirty, pretty charming. he uses it to his advantage at the bar, draws in customers in order to get tips & phone numbers

he’s a soft thot. he’s easy to sleep with but he’s kind & caring about all his partners

he’s a really good boyfriend & he falls in love easily,  but he’s forgetful & accidentally negligent sometimes. like he’ll go days without responding to texts or checking up on people. he doesn’t mean to he just does

he loves pins, patches & colorful socks. everything he wears is covered in them. most of the things he wears aren’t even related to his interests because people just give them random things & he wears them anyway

he can never open jars his beefy arms are useless

a fan of punny humor. he’s the king of dad jokes

he’s that person who puts his legs up on the dash of the car or hangs them out the window

wishes he knew how to skateboard but doesn’t even know how to ride a bike

takes in random cats & dogs he finds on the street. sometimes he tries to find their owners & sometimes he doesn’t but it’s fine

he’s addicted to those edited audios that are like “( song ) but you’re listening to it in the bathroom at a party & you’re crying because you’re alone” & he’s obsessed with joji so of course those are his favorite 

he’s one of those pansexuals who call themselves gay constantly 

uses uwu in texts to be ironic & annoying. most of his words have w replacing certain letters to sound like a smol

he gets stoned at like three am & tries to call people & ask them stupid high people questions like “if two vegans fight is it still called beef”

he’s also never left beauheart or gone too far away. just a few cities at most. he has a bit of a stoner paranoia about it. like if he leaves the state something bad will happen to him or his dad or loved ones

he’s terrified of horror movies. especially ones with clowns. he refuses to watch them because he’s convinced that he’ll accidentally summon a demon or a ghost through osmosis or something JHGDLFKGHD

wanted connections :

rooommates ( one or two )

exes ( any gender. it can be messy or friendly. i’m willing to have max be the issue though with him it’ll always be baby issues since he’s nice & a tryhard JGHKFDHFKGFD )

hookups / fwbs ( any gender. singular experiences or regular type things )

childhood plots for those who’ve lived in beauheart ( childhood friends, first kisses / crushes, all that good stuff )

high school sweethearts

flirtationships that don’t go anywhere

one-sided crushes ( don’t mind who has the feelings ! )

mutual pining but they’re both idiots & have no idea

party buddies. conspiracy theory buddies. true crime buddies. any of these can be combined

tinder date ( it can go well or not )

frequent customers ( better yet, frequent customers that he flirts with. give me the cliche phone number on napkins plot)

maybe you don’t tip him for whatever reason & he’s had a bad day & he’s like “bro wtf”

teach him how to ride a bike KJFDHSLGJF

maybe you try to get him to leave beauheart & you have to deal with his crybaby ramblings about how something bad will happen

beef with him over the existence of supernatural things

be the person he calls at three am after eating too many edibles & deal with his stoned questions

try to make him watch a horror movie

for someone newer to town: be that person who makes a “your mom” joke & have to deal with that awkward “my mom’s dead” conversation

maybe he “accidentally” stole your cat or dog & you try to get it back but he doesn’t believe that it’s yours even though you clearly have proof

maybe you’re the person who always ends up finding the stuff he loses & you’re stuck in this constant act of returning & you’re tired of it

literally anything you can think of i’m probably down for it

[pastelwitchling]

Malex one-shot Angst/Fluff Prompt List #9 (Prompt #6)

6. “Why don’t you just google it?”

***

               Alex groaned. Alex never groaned. It was how Michael knew something was wrong, but they hadn’t been dating long, and Michael didn’t know what you were supposed to do when your boyfriend – boyfriend, he couldn’t believe he got to use that word – was frustrated over his computer, looking at it like it was a friend he once trusted but was making his job extremely difficult now.

               “You okay?” Michael asked from where he was laid out on the large metal table. Since he and Alex had made things official, Michael found he no longer had to find excuses to be with his boyfriend, which usually meant that wherever Alex was, Michael was never far behind. And since Alex was always in the bunker, Michael had done his best to make the place as comfortable and less military-styled as he could.

               Still, Alex never seemed to mind it. Then again, Michael thought, he has been stuck in between military bases and cockpits for the last ten years. This place must be like home to him.

               The thought made Michael a little sad, and he pushed it away before he could dwell on it too much, just as Alex huffed, running a hand through his hair. “These damn coordinates. I just don’t understand what Jim was thinking; why jot them down? They lead to nowhere.”

               Michael sat up. “Maybe they’re not coordinates.”

               “What else could they be?”

               He shrugged a shoulder. “Why don’t you just google it?”

               Alex turned and stared, then said, “I don’t – I can’t tell if you’re… I’m sorry, are you being serious?”

               “Why not?”

               “Why not enter top secret information into a web of conspiracy theorists and ghostbusters?”

               “You found out about me through a conspiracy.”

               Alex shook his head, and for a second, Michael could’ve sworn he’d broken through the armor of fatigue and gotten an amused smile out of his boyfriend, but as quickly as it came, it was gone. Alex is exhausted, Michael realized, and wondered how he had yet to notice.

               “That was different,” Alex said. “For one thing, it wasn’t from the internet.”

               Michael came up behind Alex, narrowed his eyes at the screen, and said, “Wait a minute, are these the same coordinates that I helped you look over last night?” Alex nodded. “You still trying to get through them?”

               “Kyle asked me to,” Alex said simply, as if Michael was supposed to understand that at Kyle’s request, Alex would do anything. He clenched his jaw and tried very hard to keep in mind that he was a mature adult, that Alex loved him, that Alex was his boyfriend. And he succeeded… for all of two seconds.

               “Great,” he grumbled before he could help himself, his hands turning to fists on the back of Alex’s chair where he knew Alex wouldn’t see them. “Kyle again. I forgot you two were besties now.”

               Alex’s shoulders slumped, and Michael instantly regretted his words. He knew how much stress Alex had been under lately, with the work he had issued from his military base, his rounds, and this investigation into Jim Valenti that Michael knew was about more than just helping out Kyle. Jim had been special to Alex, had helped him in a time when nobody else had, had left him a home to go to.

               Michael mentally scolded himself for acting petty, and placed his hands on Alex’s shoulders, ready to apologize, when he felt the slight shake beneath his palms and realized that Alex was chuckling.

               “You’re jealous,” he said, rubbing his face tiredly, though the smile never left his lips. “That’s bizarre.”

               Michael felt the corners of his lips tilting upwards. “You like seeing me jealous?”

               Alex was caught off guard, and barked out a laugh. Michael smiled at the sound and wrapped his arms around Alex’s shoulders, his lips against Alex’s hair. “You’re not even gonna bother denying it?”

               “Why would I? You know I don’t like him.”

               Alex leaned back against Michael, holding his arms in place. “It would make my life a lot easier if you did.”

               Michael groaned. “Valenti, everywhere I look, he pops up.”

               His boyfriend nodded gravely, though he looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Sounds like hell.”

               Michael leaned down, capturing Alex’s pout with his lips. “It really is,” he said, and pecked his lips again before standing straight.

“Okay,” he sighed dramatically as he squinted at the coordinates on the screen, though his hold on Alex tightened until they were pressed firmly against each other. “Let’s try this again.”

***

The prompt is courtesy of the incredible @hellsdemonictrinity.

I’m three days late! Waaaaaaaa~~~~ T-T 

This was incredibly difficult to do for so many reasons. The first is that, quite frankly, this is not a phrase anyone in this show would use. I don’t know the time setting, but considering I have yet to see the internet come up at all, it was really hard to come up with a scenario where even the possibility of looking something up online would seem like a plausible thing. However, I’m fairly satisfied with what I came up with... I think. No, I am. I’m pretty sure.

And then there was Malec (the entire Shadowhunters episode, in fact, it was phenomenal) that broke me on Monday, and I was in no mood to do anything after that episode but curl into a ball and cry, and listen to Epic Music World soundtracks (I seriously recommend Make a Wish by Idan Itzhayek... it’s magical).

Then the Malex episode last night which, suffice to say, made it really, really hard for me to ship Malex for a bit. I think I cured myself through writing this though, so, that’s good.

I have two more prompts to catch up to, and I’m really hoping to write and publish them both by tonight. I don’t know how it’ll go, but I’ll do my very best to do it! >.<

Hope you enjoy reading, and for those who are also struggling with the last episode, I hope this made you feel a little better. I think we’re ultimately going to be fine. Let’s hang on for the last two episodes, hope for the best, and just... stick together. Love you guys ❤️

[sachigram]

Hearts like Ours chapter 9

((click here to read on ao3!!!!))

Izaya has a list of odd habits Shizuo is starting to notice. It's impossible not to, since Shizuo insists on being in Izaya's space more often than not, but Izaya seems to take people knowing him so personally, like it's something foul and rude. Shizuo wonders a lot why Izaya is the way he is. That, at least, is something from high school that hasn't changed between them.

Izaya cares a lot about his appearance. It's funny, actually, that someone who belittles others for such flippant things probably cares more than anyone else. Izaya has a skincare routine that has at least ten steps. Shizuo never remembers to count them all, but Izaya's skin always smells like different things. Izaya also seems to have an obsession with his nails. He always mentions getting a manicure, but Shizuo doesn't really notice a difference in Izaya's nails. He just notices Izaya picking at them a lot.

“Don't you have a scale?” Izaya asks the day after Shizuo forcefully held him all night to make him sleep.

“No,” Shizuo says.

Izaya gives him an incredulous look, and then disappears into Shizuo's bathroom for a long time. He comes out looking perfect as always, but he looks unhappy about something. Shizuo knows better than to ask, since Izaya seems to just like to blurt out things on his own terms. Shizuo is in the middle of brushing his teeth when Izaya finally voices his thoughts.

“Your place is so basic. You don't have anything to groom yourself! Not even tweezers. How does someone like you even keep up with bleaching his hair?”

“It's easy. Roots show, go to the salon. It's not hard,” Shizuo says after he spits into the sink.

“But what salon do you go to? How do you afford it? It's not cheap. And you don't make jack shit, I already know how much you make,” Izaya says flippantly.

“Wha— Shitty flea! Don't snoop into my stuff!” Shizuo growls in vain. He knows Izaya already knows most of what there is to know about him.

Izaya hums and crosses his arms while he looks up at Shizuo inquisitively. Always thinking, that's two words Shizuo would use to best describe Izaya.

“Why don't I take you to my salon?” Izaya finally asks. There's a gleam in his eye Shizuo doesn't trust. Old habits die hard.

“No.”

Izaya pouts. “Oh come on. You aren't doing anything better, and you're going to follow me even if I go, right? So you might as well agree with me now.”

“Why do you care how I look?” Shizuo asks. Izaya rolls his eyes.

“I don't. It'll be fun just to watch you try to fit in with the other patrons. Also, it might be good for you to learn some proper grooming habits, lest your beastly facial hair consume your entire body.”

Shizuo rubs a quick inconspicuous hand over his chin to make sure he doesn't have stubble growing in. He doesn't. Izaya is grinning at him smugly when Shizuo returns to glaring at him.

“Don't you have something better to do today than to give me a makeover?” Shizuo huffs.

“Nope! I'm all yours for the day, Shizu-chan, isn't that exciting?”

“It's annoying. You're annoying.”

“And yet, you insist on being around me anyway. Perhaps you're a masochist. It would explain a few things.” Izaya turns on his heel and goes to grab his coat.

“Maybe I'll just stay here,” Shizuo says, but Izaya is already going out the door.

“That's fine. I've got no problems going alone. See ya!”

Shizuo waits a full ten seconds before following after him.

“Goddammit,” he mutters as he locks the door behind him.

***

The place Izaya drags him to is swanky and reminds Shizuo of the embodiment of a higher tax bracket. It's filled with women, some in chairs getting their hair done, others on the opposite side, getting their nails or toes done. The smell of acetone, bleach, and shellac burns at Shizuo's nostrils, but he has to admit, this is definitely nicer than the little hole in the wall he usually frequents every few months for touch-ups.

“Izaya-san!” A woman with wild red hair motions them over. Shizuo follows behind Izaya, who greets the woman like an old friend.

“Jeni, how are you?” Izaya asks, taking her hands in his and smiling in a way that makes Shizuo want to walk quickly in the opposite direction. He rarely sees Izaya being genuinely nice to people. It's weird.

“I've been great! Business is booming, as you can see.” Her curious eyes land on Shizuo. “You brought a friend?”

“More like a rescue,” Izaya says. “He doesn't even have tweezers, Jen.” Izaya takes his hands back and motion to Shizuo, then makes a face that the woman laughs at. “I'm hoping to shower him in my wisdom and have him actually retain at least a third of it. He's very stupid, you see.”

“I-za-yaaaaaa...” Shizuo growls menacingly.

“Well, this is something else!” Jeni laughs and then smiles warmly at Shizuo. “I don't see the great Orihara Izaya in forever, and when I do see him again, he actually brings in someone else.”

“Oh, make no mistake. I'll be getting my nails done while I'm here,” Izaya assures her. “Only if you're free, though. I don't want anyone else touching me.”

“Of course,” Jeni says flippantly. “I know how peculiar you are.”

They end up waiting a while. Izaya didn't call to make an appointment, and the salon is really very busy. Shizuo sits beside Izaya in cushy chairs, frowning as Izaya opens a fashion magazine. Izaya crosses his legs and seems completely content, and Shizuo has only sat for about five minutes before he can't stand it anymore.

“Oi.”

Izaya glances at him, closes the magazine, and offers his attention with only a hint of underlying smarmy asshole lurking beneath. It still makes Shizuo's teeth clench from reflex, and he's having to pry them apart before he slips and gives Izaya what he wants, which is clearly Shizuo's aggression.

“Why the fuck are you doing this?” Shizuo asks.

“I've never been thanked in such a roundabout fashion before, but I'm still happy to receive your praise, Shizu-chan,” Izaya says.

“I'm not thanking you. I don't see why we're even here. If you wanna do this namby-pamby shit, that's fine, but maybe just do it to yourself.”

“The fact you consider basic grooming as 'namby-pamby' is exactly what's wrong with the patriarchy. This is a lesson in hygiene and masculinity.” Izaya hums, and then smirks in that way of his. “Besides, you're too high-strung. I don't even know what an amoeba like you has to worry about, but I get tired of hearing you think. I can practically smell the fumes from your brain short-circuiting.”

“Yeah? And who do I have to blame for that, huh? Oh, let's see, the same guy who's been a pain in my ass since the second I met him?” Shizuo barks.

“Yes, but I don't even have an ulterior motive here. I'm not bothering you. If you want to leave, leave. The door is there, and honestly these ladies would probably be happy to not bleach your hair today. It takes a while, you know? But I am staying. I need some r&r.”

Shizuo chews his cheek, tastes blood, and then huffs. He watches with irritation as Izaya opens the magazine back up, and then in a last ditch effort to annoy him, Shizuo takes the magazine and throws it as far as he can across the salon.

“You know what I hate?” Shizuo asks when Izaya glares at him.

“Is it me? Please say it's me.”

“I hate the way you do things. How hard is it to say 'hey you've been stressed so I am taking you out today'? Is it that hard for you to admit when you're doing nice things for other people? It's like you coat every action in bullshit and then expect everyone to get it.”

“I don't know what you mean, as usual. You're here because you refuse to leave me alone. I'm here because I want to be. Thinking I'm doing any of this for you is incorrect, but if you want to see it that way, I can't stop you.” Izaya glances wistfully at his nails. “I really do just want to be pampered by beautiful ladies. Surely you can relate.”

Shizuo can't, actually. The woman who usually bleaches his hair could probably give Simon a run for his money as far as muscles go, and she wrenches at Shizuo's hair with a Godzilla grip so tight it's a miracle he has hair left to bleach. Sometimes Shizuo considers going back to his natural hair color, but he doesn't want to get confused for Kasuka. People only ever say he looks like Kasuka after getting close to him, but from a distance, with his golden hair, it's easier to differentiate.

“Yeah, okay, fine,” Shizuo says. “Thanks anyway.”

Izaya blinks, and then the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. “You're welcome.”

Izaya is called first, and he chats it up with Jeni, who seems so immersed in her work it's a wonder she can carry a conversation. Shizuo is collected by another pretty woman, who comes to escort him to her chair, and wants to know how Shizuo usually gets his hair done.

Shizuo doesn't have any answers other than the obvious one, and the girl's smile remains a patient one, and she's more than happy to take the reigns. Izaya wanders over a little while later, and takes a seat on the arm of Shizuo's chair.

“You look like one of those conspiracy theorists who wrap their head in foil to stop the aliens from reading their thoughts.”

“Yeah, this is taking forever,” Shizuo says.

“It's supposed to.”

“I do this all the time. Swear it's taking longer than usual.”

Izaya rolls his eyes, and then lifts his hand to take a piece of Shizuo's foiled hair between his fingers.

“It's being done right. Learn some patience, Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo considers this, and also considers his life at this point, which is definitely more bizarre than he ever could've imagined. He's in a beauty salon with Izaya Orihara, and they're behaving like old friends rather than two people who have tried to kill each other more than once.

He wants to voice these things and talk them out, but it's pointless. He can't articulate, and even if he could, Izaya is a human blender who mixes up the words and jumbles them into something else so it's insulting even when it wasn't originally. Izaya isn't ready to hear things that Shizuo wants to say. Still, Shizuo wants to say them.

“How do you know that chick anyway?” Shizuo asks, his eyes on Jeni.

“She works at the strip club Shiki frequents. She came to me for a job once.”

“What kind of job?”

“Ah, ah, Shizu-chan, what have I said about asking me about work? Don't. I'll never say anything you like.”

Shizuo wants to see Izaya's face but can't, mainly because Izaya is perched at his side and looking away, but also because Izaya rarely looks right at him anymore.

“Sorry, Orihara-san, but we have to rinse the bleach out now!” The peppy girl appears at Shizuo's other side and whisks him away to the sink, but Izaya is still perched on the chair arm when Shizuo comes back, though he's looking at his phone. He looks up at Shizuo finally and nods.

“Much better. Your roots were really bothering me.”

“Yeah, no shit. You only mentioned them all the time.”

“It had to be mentioned. Otherwise you would've kept thinking you looked fine, which you didn't.” Izaya goes with the girl and Jeni to pay the bill, which Shizuo doesn't even want to look at. Sometimes he feels bad about how little money he makes, but then he remembers it's not from lack of trying, and Izaya is the one who kept getting him fired, so then he just usually ends up angry about it.

“Your nails look the same,” Shizuo says bitingly when Izaya returns. Sometimes, most of the time, Shizuo can't help needling at Izaya, because he still thinks Izaya deserves it.

“You're lying,” Izaya says, clearly unconcerned. “If you're going to insult me, you should mean it.”

“I do mean it!”

“Please, Shizu-chan. You can't lie to me, and trying is pointless.” Izaya has his phone out again. “Shinra is adamant, and I'm tired of dealing with him. Don't you have your phone? He's trying to talk to you through me, and it's insulting.”

“Oh, no, I left it. Not working today, and you're here, so I don't need it.” Shizuo wishes now he'd sat still to have his hair dried, because it's cold and windy, but he's also just so happy to be out of that salon. Fair trade, he decides.

“How pathetically simple.”

“What does he want now?” Shizuo asks.

“Our presence. He's having a New Year's gathering.”

“I hate gatherings.”

“We can agree on that. Also, I'm not a fan of anything relating to the new year, though I do love watching people get so worked up about it. There's a certain thrill in the air when people convince themselves they can change everything in their lives in one night.”

Izaya has that manic gleam, and Shizuo tries not to be bothered by it.

“It's not even Christmas yet,” Shizuo says.

“It's almost Christmas, and Shinra always gets up in arms about the holidays. He uses them as an excuse to be even more obnoxious.” Izaya tucks his phone away.

“Do you celebrate the holidays?” Shizuo asks, feeling stupid because he's sure Izaya will be a condescending prick about it. Shizuo loves the holidays. Or at least, he loves what they represent.

“Not usually. My sisters sometimes invite themselves over, but we don't have a tradition. I suppose you do?”

“Kasuka is always busy, and I find reasons not to go to Shinra's. But yeah, I like Christmas. And New Year's. It's fun to do different shit.”

“Shinra would probably shit himself if we showed up to his gathering then. I never go either.” Izaya pauses. “I haven't been invited the last couple years, actually. But that's understandable.”

Shizuo can tell from Izaya's tone that Izaya doesn't find it understandable in the least, but surely some part of Izaya does understand just how intolerable he was for a while there. Shizuo understand how intolerable he was, so consumed by hatred. He and Izaya certainly used to bring out the worst in each other.

“So, let's go together,” Shizuo says. Izaya looks up at him like his head is on fire.

“Why, Shizu-chan,” Izaya says, a grin forming on his face, “are you asking me out?”

Shizuo frowns. He shrugs. “Sure. Yeah, I am. Let's go.”

“In that case, it's a definite no,” Izaya says, going back to walking. Shizuo growls and wraps a hand in Izaya's hood, pulling him back forcefully. Izaya glares hatefully up at him, his hand in his pocket, probably holding a knife handle.

“What's wrong, flea? Scared of a crowd?” Shizuo baits. He can see Izaya not wanting to rise to it, but Izaya's eyes darken at the challenge.

“Of course not. But going with you—“

“So then we're going. Or I'll drag you there myself.”

Izaya's eyes narrow further, and then he huffs, looking away. He kicks his legs out, and it's only then that Shizuo notices he's lifted Izaya off the ground a bit. Izaya really does weigh nothing.

“You're the worst. I hate you.” Izaya straightens as his feet land safely on the ground, and then he turns his back on Shizuo again, resuming his walk. Shizuo follows, of course, noting that Izaya never said it wasn't a real date they're going on.

***

Christmas comes and goes. Neither of them acknowledge it. Shizuo meets up with Celty in the park to exchange gifts, but otherwise life remains the same. Izaya gets himself some swanky hotel room and Shizuo is given the privilege of having his own key, though Izaya maintains it's only because Shizuo would break down the door otherwise.

He's sitting on a bench with Celty, smoking a cigarette as she fawns over her alien stuffed toy Shizuo gifted her with. Finally she turns to him, her PDA already lifted.

How are things with Izaya?

Shizuo blows out some smoke. “Fine.”

Her helmet turns to the side. Define “fine”.

“We don't fight as much. But we sill fight a lot.” Shizuo shrugs. “I don't think we'll ever really not fight. But he's not so bad.”

Celty's shoulders shake with silent laughter. Wow. I never thought I'd see this day. You and Izaya. Who would've thought?

Shizuo smiles. “I used to think if I'd given him the time of day back in school, things would've been different. If maybe we'd have been friends. He was always around people though, and it pissed me off because I thought I couldn't be. And now I see he was around them, but he wasn't part of them. Izaya has no idea how to be with anyone. I think we could've helped each other there.” Shizuo takes another puff of his cigarette. “But maybe I'm overthinking it. Things probably wouldn't have changed much.”

Celty takes a moment to respond. You've grown so patient. It's wonderful to see, Shizuo. I'm glad you and Izaya have worked things out. You've even made him more tolerable. I'm happy for you.

Shizuo laughs. “He isn't more tolerable. He's the worst guy I know. Don't put those expectations on me.”

The next message on Celty's PDA has him choking on smoke.

Do you love Izaya?

He coughs, accidentally crushing his cigarette and splintering some of the wood of the bench in the process. He looks at Celty with watering eyes. “Celty—what the fuck, don't ask me that!”

It's funny that even without a head, he can see her expression perfectly. She's pouting at him, it's clear to see.

I think it's okay you love him. I was worried about you for a while. But then Shinra said you two were the only ones who could handle each other, and I thought about how right that sounds.

Shizuo grinds his teeth together. “I never said I love him!”

But you do.

Shizuo stands and brushes the ashes off his pants, hating where this conversation has gone. This isn't how any conversation should go.

“I'll see you later. Gotta get back to work.”

Her hand catches his wrist.

Are you coming over New Year's Eve? It would mean a lot to Shinra and me!

“Yeah,” he says.

Is Izaya?

He chews at his cheek. “Yes.”

She lets him go, looking entirely smug, and never has Shizuo so badly wanted to throw a bench in his life. He hurries away and tries not to think about what she said.

He fails miserably.

By the time New Year's Eve rolls around, Shizuo feels anxious in a way he never has before. He's never had to worry about things like this. No one has ever wanted to date or be around him. He has an awful reputation, which he built himself to keep people away, but somehow he still ended up in this position with Izaya, who is very vocal about not wanting to be around Shizuo either.

But Izaya is the only person who really ever stayed.

“This is so stupid,” Izaya says for probably the tenth time in an hour. “Why did you agree to this? Why did you insist I go? I already suffered one gathering with these people.”

“You were gone a long time,” Shizuo says, pulling on one of the sweaters he brought to Izaya's hotel room. Izaya's apartment will be ready in the morning actually, but Shizuo has already gotten used to this huge hotel. Still, the TV can't compare to Izaya's. Neither can the couch.

“It's not like I was missed,” Izaya says. “They only want me to come because they know you won't go without me.”

It's actually funny how mad Izaya is getting about this. He somehow seems more pissed than he was that night they tried to kill each other. Izaya is huffy and keeps throwing stuff around. His shirt is short sleeved because Izaya hasn't been able to find anything else to wear yet, and Shizuo is getting an eyeful of the mark on his arm.

“What are you looking at so smugly?” Izaya snaps, looking from Shizuo to his own soulmate mark. “You've seen it before. Stop looking at it like it means something!”

“You're so mad. Just pick a sweater. They're all overpriced and swanky, what does it matter which one you pick?”

“Appearances are everything in my line of work,” Izaya huffs.

“You aren't working. You're going to a party.” Shizuo crosses his arms and grins at Izaya, who scowls at him.

“I'm always working!” Izaya snaps. He finally picks a soft black sweater and pulls it on. The static dishevels his hair, and his expression is still sour.

“Cute,” Shizuo says without thinking. Izaya pauses and looks up at him, some of the anger replaced with surprise. Then he scowls again.

“Don't look so smug, you stupid beast,” he says, but his cheeks are tinted pink. Shizuo's stomach tightens, and then feels weightless somehow.

“Are you almost ready? It's been an hour of you throwing around your clothes.”

Izaya throws a pair of socks at his head in answer.

By the time they arrive at Shinra's it's after dark and freezing outside. It's already snowed a bit the last week, but the clouds are ominous overhead, promising a snowstorm soon. Shizuo loves the snow, but he doesn't want to get stuck at Shinra's. They'll have to keep an eye on the weather outside.

“You guys made it!” Shinra shouts, hurrying to them. He lunges at Izaya, capturing him in a nonnegotiable hug, which Izaya looks mortified over. Shinra releases him and turns to Shizuo.

“Don't even try,” Shizuo says, holding his hand in front of himself. Shinra laughs in that stupid way of his.

“Come on guys, it's an exciting holiday! Live a little.”

“You're more annoying than usual. Have you been drinking all day?” Izaya asks.

“I've had a bit! It's a holiday!” Shinra reiterates.

“On that note, I'll be going to where the alcohol is,” Izaya says, leaving Shizuo's side. Shizuo frowns after him.

“Remember last time!” he calls. Izaya waves him off.

“Well,” Shinra says, “if there's ever a time to drink too much, it's a holiday.”

“If you say the word 'holiday' one more goddamn time, I'm throwing you out the window.”

Thankfully, Celty comes over and saves him from a drunk Shinra, who goes back to his usual mode of clinging to Celty, barely caring at all when she shoves her fist at him.

Don't mind him. He's been cut off until further notice from drinking.

“Probably best for everyone here,” Shizuo says. Celty nods sagely while Shinra wails, somehow knowing what her screen said without even reading it.

There are a bunch of people in the apartment. Some people, like Kadota's gang, Shizuo recognizes. Others, he doesn't. But he's wary of everyone. Some of these people could know the guys going after Izaya, and Izaya is probably going to drink himself stupid again.

Speaking of, shit, Shizuo should find him.

Izaya is speaking to some guy in a suit, a glass of wine in one hand, his other hand moving through the air as he emphasizes his words.

“Everyone here is probably thinking of how different they'll be tomorrow. It's like an archaic process that still holds true and has meaning for a month or two, but then everyone gives up on the resolution and goes back to their basic habits. It's ridiculous to celebrate but somehow we get roped into it every year,” Izaya is saying.

“Is this your way of saying you don't have a resolution, Orihara-san?” Suit Guy asks.

“Of course not. True change comes from life experience and human trauma. But I do love hearing what other people are doing. How about you, Nikimura-san? Are you starting anything new tomorrow?”

“My wife signed us up for weekly pottery classes.”

“How nice. Do you have any interest in pottery?”

“No, but it makes her happy. And the deposit is non-refundable. So we'll be sticking with it.”

It's incredibly amusing to see Izaya partaking in such mundane conversations. It seems more likely that Shizuo should approach and find Izaya talking about blowing up the world or something. Then again, Shinra works with the same people Izaya does, and the suit guy has probably killed more than a few people. Shizuo decides to go get something to drink himself, because unlike Izaya, he does enjoy the spirit of letting go on a holiday. At least a little.

“Shizuo!” Simon barks at him. Simon is in the kitchen, standing by the food and drinks. “You come to party, too?”

“Wow, Shinra even roped you into this, huh?” Shizuo asks.

“I bring sushi. Sushi good for New Year.”

“You think sushi is good for everything.” Shizuo decides on some of the fruity looking punch he finds. It's sickeningly sweet. He's sure it's filled to the brim with alcohol, too. Who makes stuff like this?

“Shizu-chan!” Erika calls, bounding over to him. “You're drinking our punch!”

Of course.

“What's in this shit?” he asks.

“Stuff,” Erika says, grinning deviously. “It's a tipsy punch.”

“It's full of bad decisions,” Walker says, joining them.

“I'm not drinking this,” Shizuo decides.

“Good, your teeth will fall out,” Izaya says, suddenly beside Shizuo. “Why not drink something nice? Then again, your alcohol tolerance is through the roof. I don't suppose anyone brought straight vodka, did they?”

“Shut up, I can drink what I want.” Shizuo sees beer, doesn't want it. He grabs some of the same wine Izaya has. It doesn't taste good, but it'll shut Izaya up for a moment. He can nurse this all night and keep an eye on Izaya, who has a flea-sized alcohol tolerance.

Izaya smirks at him, and Shizuo is reminded again of the last time they drank together, and how Izaya wound up sick and miserable.

“Relax,” Izaya says, seemingly reading Shizuo's mind. “I won't overdo it.”

“Good. Don't.”

“So, are you guys fucking yet?” Erika asks loudly, drawing stares from everyone around them. Shizuo spits out some wine. Walker slinks quietly from the room. Izaya gives her a placid stare.

“Yes,” Izaya says. “Shizuo is a power bottom.”

“What?!” Erika shouts, looking at Shizuo with glee. Shizuo glares at Izaya, who looks pleased with himself.

“What's that even mean?!” he barks.

“Erika, really, clearly he's a virgin. I don't know what you want from me,” Izaya says, motioning to Shizuo.

“I can give you some pointers...” Erika starts, and Shizuo stomps over to Izaya, picks him up with one arm, and carries him to the other side of the apartment.

Throughout the course of the night, Shinra somehow gets even drunker despite being “cut off”, and at some point he starts playing music on the stereo, some fast, techno music. He dances, and no one really joins him, but clearly no one is as drunk as he is either.

“This reminds me of high school,” Izaya says into Shizuo's ear. He has to get close to be heard over the music, and Shizuo thrills at the feeling of Izaya's breath against his skin, feels goosebumps.

“Why?” he asks.

“Shinra and I have drank together before. He came over to my place because my parents were never home and of course I knew how to get alcohol. He said Celty would never forgive him for underage drinking so he stayed the night.” There's a gleam of joy in Izaya's eyes. “He got wasted, danced, and threw up the rest of the night.”

“Sounds like you, minus the dancing,” Shizuo says. Izaya pouts at him.

“I rarely drink that much!” Izaya defends. “Clearly I overdid it last time, but here I am, on my second glass of wine, completely fine!”

“Did you dance with Shinra? Back then?” Shizuo asks, trying to picture it. He never really hung out with the two of them together. Each and every time he got near Izaya, they would start their usual shit despite Shinra's wailing.

Izaya smiles widely.

“Yes,” he says. “Does that make you jealous?”

Shizuo grumbles. “Yes.”

“Well then,” Izaya says, downing the rest of his glass in one gulp. Shizuo tries too late to take it from him. “You're about to get really jealous.”

When Izaya crosses the room to Shinra, Shizuo at first can't believe what he's seeing. But then, Izaya has always been good at pretending to not care what other people think. At the end of the day, he's always posturing, but for now maybe, with wine coursing through him, he really might not give a fuck. Shinra makes a gleeful noise and the two of them drunkenly sway together to the cheers of the crowd. Celty is shaking her head, helmet gleaming in the apartment lighting. Shizuo is jealous, but he's also glad to see Izaya having fun. He doesn't notice Kadota by him until Kadota speaks.

“Man. You've got it bad.”

“What?” Shizuo asks, turning from Izaya's laughing face to Kadota.

“When Shinra told us you were Izaya's soulmate, we all didn't really know what to make of it. But clearly it's working out. You're good for each other.” Kadota takes a swig of beer and nudges Shizuo, who feels extremely warm.

Maybe he is tipsy. He forgets how much he's had at this point, has been too focused on making sure Izaya hasn't had too much.

“Shut the fuck up, Kadota,” Shizuo grumbles, but of course Kadota isn't bothered by it at all.

“Are you having The Talk with Shizu-chan?” Erika suddenly shouts, coming over and draping herself over Kadota's back. Togusa is with her, who waves at Shizuo.

“Yeah,” Kadota says.

“I tried to, but he ran from me!”

“Probably because you made it nasty,” Togusa says.

“I don't need a talk!” Shizuo snaps. “Get away from me!”

Celty appears like an angelic vision and shoves her PDA in Kadota's face, who shrugs. She turns to Shizuo and puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Don't listen to them. You can make move on Izaya in your own time!

“Is everyone here drunk but me?!” Shizuo shouts, wondering how the hell Celty even could be without a head. “Shut up about me and Izaya!”

“Are we torturing Shizu-chan?” Izaya asks, joining them as Shinra basically tackles Celty, begging her to dance. He holds his hand out and Erika hands him another glass of wine. Shizuo growls at her.

“No one's trying to,” Kadota says.

“I am.” Izaya grins deviously and pulls Shizuo to him, who goes willingly, albeit confusedly. “You're going to dance with me.”

“You're drunk,” Shizuo accuses, but he still holds onto Izaya, who is swaying in his grasp.

“Guilty,” Izaya agrees. “But I'm not wasted. That's about all you can hope for.”

“It is a holiday,” Shizuo says, and Izaya smiles up at him in such an unguarded way and Shizuo can only think of how beautiful Izaya is like this, and like always, even when he's being a pain in the ass. Other people are dancing now too, though Shizuo doesn't notice anyone else really. He can't look away from Izaya, who seems to really enjoy the attention.

The party winds down later after people start filing out due to increasing snowfall outside. Celty invites them to stay the night, which they both turn down. Izaya is definitely verging on wasted by this point, and so is Shizuo for that matter, who had to drink twice as much just to match Izaya. Shinra hugs them both, weeping big tears, saying they're all going to dance at his and Celty's wedding.

Izaya arranges a cab for them and they stumble outside together, Shizuo drunkenly holding Izaya upright, though Izaya is draped over him for the most part. It's even colder than before somehow, and the snow is drizzling on them threateningly, telling them to get home soon or else. Izaya's cheeks are red from the cold, and he still just looks so happy. Shizuo's mind is a hazy fog and he finds he's forgotten half the night but he doesn't think he'll ever forget this, Izaya looking up at him through glazed eyes, windswept and gorgeous. Shizuo touches his cheek and leans down, capturing Izaya's lips in a kiss.

Izaya pulls away quickly, wide eyed and panic stricken.

“What are you doing?” he asks, though it comes out soft. “You can't do that.”

“Sorry,” Shizuo says dumbly.

“We're drunk,” Izaya says. “So it's...excusable.”

“I wanted to do it sober, too,” Shizuo says. Before Izaya can respond, their cab comes, and they get into the warm car in silence. The driver looks back at them and asks where to, and Izaya gives him the hotel address.

“Looks like you guys will barely beat this storm,” the driver says. Izaya strikes up a conversation with him but Shizuo barely listens to it, too busy thinking of Izaya's lips on his and how much he liked the feeling. And maybe it's because he's drunk and barely aware of what's going on, but when the car stops and Izaya helps drag him outside, Shizuo is confused by how they got back so fast.

“Really,” Izaya huffs, tugging at Shizuo, “you were worried about me overdoing it. You're the wasted one.”

“Sorry,” Shizuo says again.

“Whatever,” Izaya says, a sturdy anchor at his side. They reach the room and Izaya helps Shizuo reach the bed. Shizuo topples into it face-down, ready to sleep a thousand years.

“Oh,” Izaya says suddenly. Shizuo looks up at him blearily. “It's after midnight.”

“Wha...”

He finds himself cut off by Izaya's lips on his again, Izaya's weight settling beside him on the bed. Shizuo groans and lifts his hands, pulling Izaya closer, licking wetly at Izaya's lips until Izaya opens to him. It's definitely uncoordinated, but neither of them are sober. And Izaya isn't pulling away even if Shizuo is sloppy. Izaya tastes like wine and like everything Shizuo wants, and when Izaya pulls away at last, pupils fat and lips red from abuse, Shizuo decides he loves him more than anything, then and there.

“Happy New Year's, Shizu-chan.”

[starwarshyperdrive]

Predictions after seeing the D23 footage and reading too many stupid fan theories..again.

So now that the ‘special look’ has been out for a while and there are some alleged plot leaks on reddit, I think it’s time for to go over my predictions. Mostly to be able to say ‘I knew it’ and ‘I told you’ later on, because there is no chance in hell that Rey is just one many clones from Lukes hand or the emperor or any of the other wild theories that spread across the internet. And without pointing fingers or mentioning names, if you can’t even get minor (hint) details right and have a horrible track record, how do people still listen to you? Because you have a lot of subscribers on Youtube? Welcome to the Internet..

This might contain spoilers so be warned:

- Finn is not Landos son and Jannah is not his sister, because there are more than 3 black people in the galaxy you know. Star Wars might be about family, but not everyone is related. Palpatine was a bit ginger, that doesn’t make him Hux’ grandfather either.. Will we learn about Finns family. What for? What is there to gain story-wise. That’s something everyone coming upon with wild theories needs to ask themselves. 

- is Jannah (Naomi Ackie) Landos daugher? See above. Looking at the little evidence we have so far she has always been seen on a grassy planet, whereas Lando is known to have filmed Millennium Falcon and Pasaana scenes at a sound stage.  There are theories that the planets won’t be one biosphere, breaking with Star Wars tradition, so it’s still possible however unlikely that they are related. 

Just look at the pilots gloves and helmet. This isn’t the Millennium Falcon 

-  C-3POs red eyes. There are conflicting rumors about the cause, one being spiritual and the other being.. technical. I think it’s more likely that his eyes change color due to operational rather than ‘esoteric’ reasons. Also in relation to him being shown holding a bowcaster and Anthony Daniels telling Vanity Fair that ‘C-3PO does something in this movie that surprises everybody’.

- Red laser destroying snow planet. I assume that’s Kijimi where Zorri Bliss is located and where according to some plot leaks some altercation takes place. Looks like the First Order doesn’t fuck around.

- Rey training in the forest throwing her lightsaber is most likely connected to Leia standing in the same environment dropping some Jedi knowledge she got from Luke. I’m wondering what the red ribbon is about. I’m gonna get crazy and say it might be a blindfold. There is also a Jedi training droid present, so why wouldn’t she training ‘blind’ with it just like Luke did.  I’m gonna go out on a limb and propose something with a 5% likelihood of being true, but.. as is looks a bit as the red ribbon is also wrapped around the double bladed light saber ‘dark Rey’ is holding later on, so what if.. it’s something related to her parents and her ‘holding onto it’ is a dark side trait she needs to conquer. Star Wars is filled with symbolism and philosophical motifs like that. ‘Let go’ of your need to belong. Don’t dwell in the past. Even Maz told her ‘The belonging you seek is not behind you, it is ahead.’. Could be that or just a regular rag. Probably the latter, but it’s sure fun to theorize. #theorizeresponsibly

- Rey and Kylo fighting on what looks like the Death Star remains. I think a lot of people now tend to believe that JJ Abrams is bypassing The Last Jedi and continue his initial story, not ignoring the movie but positioning it as a detour for the characters to find themselves. And for once I agree what seems to be the consensus amongst Star Wars theorists. I think what we see here is not unlike the force flashes Rey had when she first touched the lightsaber. I can imagine them changing environment with every stroke of their lightsabers. That allows for a ‘best of Star Wars’ highlight reel, so desperately needed to reunite fans after the The Last Jedi backlash, that would combine all the previous movies. And that’s what they promised. 

- voiceover ‘your journey nears its end’. Is it just me or does it not sound like the emperor. I mean it sounds like Ian McDiarmid alright, but I’m missing the uber-evil timbre of his voice. Who is he talking to and will the emperor appear in this movie? First of all.. when we talk about tying together all the movies, we must not ignore the so called ‘tone poems’ used for The Phantom Menace. Based on that I’d say he isn't necessarily talking to anyone. Or even more recently, in The Force Awakens trailer they used Lukes ‘the force is strong in my family..’. So I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s just a distraction or to set the mood. My guess is that the emperors ‘spirit’ looms above everything and had the power to influence other people, just like depicted on the poster. There had been speculation about Snoke being some sort of Wizard of Oz early on. What if the wizard behind the wizard is actually worse. Wouldn’t that be wizard?

- Dark Rey. I will say one thing, I was happy to see that most fans immediately were like ‘dark side vision!’. If you read my earlier posts you will know how much I LOVE new lightsaber designs in every movie. Not. Especially when they are pointless. When I said I want a saber staff this is not what I mean. The only thing that makes me a bit skeptical is that Daisy Ridley said she was surprised that they’d show that scene in trailer. If it’s just a vision like the one Luke had, what’s the big deal? Then again, they also claimed that everyone will absolutely love the movie and especially the end. Enter wild fan theories from ‘she saw multiple reflections of herself in the cave. Clone Rey confirmed!!!11!!’ to ‘She must be Palpatines granddaughter’. I said it before and I’ll happily say it again. That would be SHIT STORYTELLING. After all the impatient smart-asses calling Rey a ‘Mary Sue’ not knowing anything about her origins, how would the public react to good old Palpatine having a granddaughter? That’s Robot Chicken level stupid. Now.. considering that an early draft of Revenge of the Sith had Palpatine telling Anakin that he ‘is his father’ for manipulating the midichlorians to create life, from a certain point of view that would make him Reys father IF he tried again. And it would fit much better into the established story structure of Star Wars. Every story that requires knowledge of the extended universe outside of movies or lengthy exposition will lead to casual fans and ordinary moviegoers to be like WTF?! It might be the last movie for a while but they still want people to go and not be appalled from early reviews about the movie being a convoluted clusterfuck. I also think the ‘clone’ idea is a cop out. Whenever you’re stuck because you can’t explain the origin of a character or don’t know how to deal with the death of a character - BAMM! Clone! Problem solved. That's just lazy. So to sum it up. Dark Rey? Vision of what she was supposed to be or should be because it backfired? ‘Darkness rises, and light to meet it. I warned my young apprentice that as he grew stronger, his equal in the light would rise.’ (Snoke)

- Sith Fleet / Sith Troopers ..those following the new canon even just a bit are already aware of the importance of the ‘Unknown Regions’. Its hard to miss references to it these days, from Galaxys Edge to Rebels. So how are they gonna explain this in the movie? From a storytelling point it makes sense. The empire was defeated and its remnants were hiding and regrouping. Hang on. This sounds like a job for OPENING CRAWL. OK, so there is a massive fleet. Maybe unrelated to the First Order, but looking pretty similar. Based on the state of the Resistance after the Last Jedi one might assume it’s not really needed. Does that mean we’re dealing with an internal struggle of sorts.There are persisting rumors of a high ranking First Order member leaking details to the Resistance, which doesn’t come as a surprise given Kylo Rens personality. Reminds be a bit of Operation Valkyrie. 

I’m delving deep into leaks and rumors but as things are now I have no idea how this pans out and what the relationship between Sith Trooper and First Order will be. Apparently you need a certain navigational device to be able to make it to the Unknown Regions, so my guess is Kylo is looking for more knowledge/power there just like Palpatine did, the rest is pure speculation so I will leave it for another time when more details surface. Same goes for stuff that’s not directly related to the ‘D23 Special View’ such as ‘who is Zorri Bliss?’.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

10x20: Splinter - Details

Morning Everyone! So I’m going to give you a few details from the episode. This won’t be terribly long, as I covered most things in my first analysis post. Most of these are dialogue parallels and such that just reinforce the idea that this is a replay of Grady and ought to be paralleled with Beth’s arc. I know this wasn’t the most exciting episode, for TD or the GA. But the parallels are still there to be appreciated. ;D

***As always, spoilers for 10x20 abound below. Be sure to watch before you read! You’ve been warned. ;D***

As I said before, the entire episode revolves around a woman (in this case Yumiko) with a head injury.

When talking to her through hole in the train car wall, Princess tells her to “stay awake.” It reinforces the head injury theme, and it reminded me of Denise telling Daryl and Rosita to “wake up,” which she says just before her very Grady-like death, and I always equated it to the moment we see Beth’s eyes flutter open at Grady.

When she starts counting her steps, she counts first to five and then six. By itself, that’s not much. But if you remember in earlier episodes, when Princess led them through the minefield, she count to five, and fifty, and fifty-five. There have just been a lot of 5s around her, and we saw more of that here.

@wdway​ noticed that Yumiko was introduced originally in the series with a head injury (back in S9). Now she’s the one Princess hallucinates as having one. I got nothing against Yumiko, but I gotta say, this really doesn’t bode well for her.

When Princess talks to Eugene, he has a “chaperone” mention. We can definitely tie that to Beth in Still. “So what? You’re like my chaperone now?”

Eugene also says the people back home are counting on him to be a “cross between Santa Clause and a guardian angel.” Remember Daryl’s line from the I Never game about Santa Clause? The fun thing is that it also ties to the St. Nicholas/Pickle story (X, X). And in the recap, which Eugene did for this episode, he says they’ve gotten themselves into a pickle. 

For those who don’t remember, the St. Nicholas/Pickle story is a legend about how St. Nicholas (the actual man/saint) brought three boys back from the dead. So the short of it is, it’s a resurrection symbol. And we’ve seen this SO much around Eugene. Jars of pickles, pickle mentions, etc. This is one reason of many we think Beth may be showing up in conjunction with Eugene’s story line at the Commonwealth.

The “guardian angel” reference could refer to Beth, or to Daryl’s vest wings.

Princess says, “you don’t know that” at one point. It’s when she’s talking to fake Ezekiel in the train car. Lots of okay/not okay stuff. I didn’t write down specific lines from this episode, but that’s more stuff Beth said at Grady.

About Yumiko and Eugene who have disappeared at that point, she says, “They’re gone. I don’t know.” So, more of the “just gone” theme.

There was some interesting hand symbolism in it. This may not mean a lot to anyone else, but my fellow theorists and I have been batting around hand/arm symbolism ever since Leah threw the walker arm at Daryl. To be honest, we haven’t come up with anything super-concrete. We have some ideas, but not tons to back them up just yet. So I’m just mentioning this so we can keep an eye on it in the future. Princess tells a story about getting a splinter in her hand as a teenager and it gets infected. But she loved school and didn’t want to stay home (probably because her home life wasn’t happy) so she talked her mom into letting her go back before it healed. And because of that, it got infected again.

The school is also a symbol we’ve seen tangled up in Beth symbolism a lot. There was the school Father Gabriel went to in Coda, where the walkers broke out and chased him back to the church. We’ve also seen them around other Beth symbols and callbacks like 9x03 (where Daryl and Maggie found the Oceansiders killing Arat) and 10x03, Ghosts. I feel like the school may represent the place where something in the story goes very wrong. Yeah, I know that’s vague, but it’s all I got so far.

I also feel like there’s symbolism in Princess’s hand getting infected twice. As this is about Grady, maybe it’s something about Beth leaving Grady (when they tried to bury her) and then ending up back there again. Something like that.

Princess also says when it gets infected the second time, that it swelled up “like a birthday balloon.” So birthday symbolism as well. (Beth mentioned “birthdays and summer picnics” on the porch with Daryl in Still. We really haven’t heard this symbolism often, so when we do, it sticks out. That said, we did hear it mentioned recently by Leah in 10x18. Yet another clue that she’s a stand-in for Beth.

When storm trooper guy brings in food, it’s hard to tell what it is, but we think it’s a sandwich and an apple. It seems sandwiches are the food of prisoners in this show. And, you know, Apple Theory.

Storm Trooper guy at one point also says, “you don’t get it,” which is dialogue both Beth and Daryl use during their Still fight.

Princess later says, “screw you for judging.” Very Beth-like.

In terms of what’s actually happening in the episode, I think there are hints to what’s going on outside of Princess’s hallucination throughout. Often when the guards are walking by, we hear snatches of conversation that seem too purposely placed not to mean anything.

In one of them, one of the guards says, “I’ve never seen one turn that fast.” Which sounds like he’s talking about someone turning into a walker, right? But it doesn’t explain what he’s talking about. There are other times when we hear radio chatter that I think is important, but they don’t give us subtitles for it. I think that must be purposeful.

I almost wonder if it’s a hint that Yumiko really did die and turn, or else it’s a foreshadow that she will. Just a guess on my part.

Another time, two of the guards are checking the grounds (while Princess hides behind Eugene’s train car) and say something about how it’s quiet here, but there was a report of activity on the south perimeter. So, there’s obviously stuff going on that Princess isn’t really part of. In that sense, it also feels like Grady because they’re hinting at stuff we aren’t actually seeing.

Yeah, I think that’s all I have for today. There are probably more, but it’s what I had in my notes. Again, just to reinforce the parallels. Anyone catch anything I missed?

[sonicrainicorn]

Made of Love, Chapter 22

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Table of Contents

Ship(s): Logicality, (platonic) Prinxiety

All Characters: Thomas, Virgil, Roman, Logan, Patton, Dr. Picani, Joan, Talyn, and Deceit

Synopsis: Humans Roman and Virgil get wrapped up in some serious magic business without meaning to. Their other companions aren’t exactly as they seem, either. Together they all must defeat a great threat for the safety of humanity.

Chapter Desc.: Thomas's worst fear is realized.

TW: Cursing, death mention, violence, blood (somewhat descriptive), existential crisis (vague)

Prefer to read it on Ao3? Click here!

In the past few days, Virgil noticed something odd. Logan started wearing more long sleeves -- going so far as to wear Patton’s sweaters just so he’d have something covering his arms. Not that Virgil could say anything about it. He wore things with sleeves as often as he could since he always needed something to fidget with. Still, he decided to keep an eye on it for any further developments.

But perhaps he was overreacting. He often did that. He’d worry over things that didn’t need to be worried over. There was a chance this was one of those times. There was also a chance that it wasn’t. Nevertheless, It was better to be safe than sorry.

Other than that, everything was fine.

Well, as fine as it could be.

There was still the ever-looming threat of losing Logan forever which wasn’t fun to think about. At all. It didn’t help that he glitched out two days in a row, and it wasn’t any less terrifying than the first time. In fact, it seemed the more it happened, the scarier it got. A constant reminder that time was running out. Thankfully, Thomas had yet to witness it firsthand. No one could comprehend how traumatizing that would be for him.

Today, however, started somewhat normal. Patton and Virgil left the other three in the living room while they went outside to train. Training had become less frequent since they first started out, but it still happened. It was necessary. Practice makes perfect, as they say. Or at the very least, practice makes for a better outcome in a fight.

Speaking of fighting, Virgil couldn't help but wander over to what happened with the Theorist those couple days ago. Of how genuinely frightened he was of Patton. As if he had every reason to believe that Patton would hurt him without reason. He seemed so convinced if it. And Patton himself even admitted to being raised to fight. It all… it all sort of made sense. That was the reason he was so scarily accurate with weapons. That's why his first reaction upon hearing Arlene's name was to punch as hard as he could. It's why he didn't even hesitate to start training Roman and Virgil. Training is normal for him. Fighting is normal for him.

Did that make killing normal, too? Has Patton killed anyone? How many? Was Anxiety right? How long did he stay with his tribe before leaving? Did that affect how ingrained this was into his system?

"Look out!"

After a brief moment of alarm over hearing Roman's voice, Virgil plunged both Right and Left into the dummy's shoulder as a panic response. A bit unnecessary, and not at all what Right wanted him to do, but it got the job done. The dummy crumpled into a pile of sticks.

“You know, if you’re going to fight something you should probably focus on that rather than what’s going on in your head,” Patton mentioned from the log he sat at. A teasing smirk played at his lips. “Maybe you should take a break.”

Virgil ignored the heat rising up his face and tapped the hilts of his daggers together. They turned back into pens. He took a seat on the log as Patton stood up from it. “And what are you planning to do?”

“Well, everyone needs practice.” Beside his foot started to sprout thick, interweaving branches. They grew similarly to how someone might knit a scarf, except it started to curve. Patton pulled it out and a thin vine connected the two ends, creating a complete bow. After it, something resembling a sapling sprouted up with its needles forming along three sides to create the fletchings of an arrow.

Virgil decided not to comment on that. He watched Patton wander over to the opposite side of the dummies and take aim with his bow. He pulled back the makeshift string and let the arrow go. And missed -- but just barely. It scraped along the side of the dummy’s head and landed somewhere behind it.

“Whoops.” Patton grinned sheepishly. “This thing’s a little janky.” He sprouted another arrow from the ground. His movements were automatic, almost mechanical, as he plucked the arrow out and nocked it -- that is to say, he put the arrow to the string. He drew it back, aimed, and let it go. It hit the dummy’s head, causing it to crumble into a pile.

“So how long have you known how to use a bow and arrow?” Virgil watched another arrow hit the second dummy with rather remarkable grace. Like someone who had done this same action a dozen times over.

“A few hundred years.” The dummies built themselves back up. “Just about my whole life, really. Why?” Patton flicked his finger side to side in the direction of the dummies. They started to walk in opposite directions like cartoon characters on patrol.

Virgil followed one of the dummy’s steps with his eyes. “Wondering how much practice you actually need.” It fell to pieces.

A new arrow grew from the ground. “I mean, it’s good to brush off old skills every once in a while.” Patton nocked it and proceeded to aim at his next target.

“Even if those skills have been with you your whole life?”

“Yes, even then.” He hit it.

Virgil continued to watch Patton with increasing fascination. Every time both dummies went down, he had them start at a faster speed after they built themselves up again. He never missed. He hit the dummies' heads every time. A near-constant stream of arrows sprouted from the ground whenever he plucked one. Well, if someone did one thing for hundreds of years, they better be pretty good at it. Virgil assumed skills like this were only seen in books and movies.

It only made Virgil more curious. He wanted to learn more about Patton's heritage -- about the Machai elves. Were they as feared as the Theorist made them out to be? Why were they so focused on fighting? But Patton didn't want to talk about that. He made it very clear he wasn't interested in discussing his history.

There had to be some other way to do it -- some way to ease him into the topic. Because Virgil wouldn't be able to get any damn rest until he had at least some idea of who Patton was.

After hitting yet another target, Patton paused to push his hair out of his face. The wind picked up and caused the already rowdy curls to disobey any type of practicality. He had to spit out the few strands that made it into his mouth.

"Here. Looks like you need this." Virgil slipped off the hair tie on his wrist and offered it to Patton.

He grinned. "Thanks, Virgil." He set the bow down to walk over to him.

Then a lightbulb illuminated over Virgil's head.

As Patton gathered up all his hair, Virgil tried to figure out the best way to go about his question. It would sort of seem out of the blue, there was nothing he could do about that, but he figured he could use it as a leeway. "Hey, um, Patton. I have a bit of a question."

"What is it?" He pulled his hair through the tie.

"Do you know anything about soulmates?"

He cracked a small smile. "I know a lot about soulmates. Why? What's up?" He placed his hands on his hips. His hair was successfully pulled back into a little ponytail, though a few rebel strands decided to go their own way.

Shit. He wasn't prepared for this yet. "Oh -- uh -- just, like, what are they?"

"Well, they can be a lot of things. It depends on who you ask." He picked his bow back up. "If you want a textbook definition, they’re two people with a very close connection.”

“Is there a way you would define it?” Virgil put his hands in his hoodie pockets and put his back against the tree.

The dummies reformed. “Hmm. I guess I would say that soulmates are kinda like best friends. They’ll always be there for you and you’d understand each other better than anyone else.” He nocked another arrow. “I was taught that soulmates are sort of like stars. They’re bright and wonderful, but intense. They burn. And then they go out. Not every soulmate relationship sticks until the end. Sometimes they burn too much to really work out.”

“You sound so sure that they’re real.”

“There’s nothing saying that they’re not.” Patton sent him another grin. “It’s even possible for soulmates to be products of past lives. The Machai liked to believe that’s how soulmates are formed, anyway. Two people meet, they had a deep connection, their souls try to find each other again after they’re reincarnated.” He plucked another arrow.

Reincarnation. That was something Virgil didn’t want to think much about. It made sense, didn’t it? People kept seeing something in him -- someone that wasn’t him. Not anymore, anyway. It made sense that reincarnation would play a role. But it was terrifying. He existed before -- Roman existed before. They didn’t have any recollection of it. Did that change anything about them? Were they meant to remember more?

Ah, shit. There was that existential dread again. A puzzle piece from the wrong puzzle thrown into the mix. He had a perfectly fine puzzle before that extra piece forced its way in. Now nothing was going to fit right until he found out where it went.

Fuck.

Change the subject. “Would you consider yourself to be Logan’s soulmate?”

Patton stopped mid-action. He stayed frozen until slipping his fingers away from the string, continuing with the motion of shooting. He missed. “I’d say we’re something else entirely.”

Virgil stared at the arrow embedded in the nearby tree. “What would that be?”

He lowered the bow and looked up at the treetops. For a moment, Virgil was afraid he somehow asked the wrong question, until he saw a bright smile creep along Patton’s face. “It’s not something with a name, I don’t think. It’s different. It’s more like we rewrote our own stories to be how we wanted them. Sort of threw destiny off track a bit."

That was enough attempting to pry for today.

When they went back inside, the other three were still in the living room. Thomas was the first to notice their return. He gasped and leaped to his feet, running over to them like an energetic puppy. Paint was smeared along his cheeks and many splatters were over his clothes.

"Guys, look what we did." He threw his arms out to the canvas on the floor. It was a serene portrait of a tree branch with a bird resting on it. In the back was a lush field of green, scattered with bits of orange flowers. "Logan sketched out one of Roman's pictures and then we painted it. What do you think?"

Patton smiled. "It looks great." He leaned over the back of the armchair to get a better look at it without getting in the way. Roman and Logan were still working on it.

"It's not finished yet." Thomas beamed at Virgil.

"Looks pretty good to me." He returned the smile at a lower watt intensity.

"Well it has to be perfect," Roman called from the floor. He sat back from the painting. He was the least covered in paint out of the three of them. It only seemed to be on his hands.

"He's been insisting that since we started, even though we've said it doesn't need to be." Logan sat back as well. There were a few specific smears of paint on his face and even some in his bangs. He lifted his eyes from the canvas and they froze at Patton. "Your hair is up."

"Huh? Oh, yeah." He put a hand to his hair and gave a nervous smile. "Do you not like it?"

"I never said that. I think you look rather nice. It makes it easier to see all the constellations on your face."

Patton placed a hand on his cheek, his smile switching to be more reserved.

"Plus, you get to see your cute little elf ears," Thomas added.

Virgil felt heat rise to his cheeks. He could see Roman's turn pink.

"Thomas!" Patton covered his ears.

"I agree with that," Logan said.

Virgil's face got warmer.

Sometime around noon, they decided to walk down into town for lunch. They hadn’t gone out for food in a while and it seemed like a perfect time to do it. Well, perfect as a relative term. No one dropped dead or anything like that. So that was the standard for perfect nowadays, which was a bit upsetting for various reasons. But whatever.

As they ate, they ended up falling into a discussion about one of the biggest things they’ve ever gotten in trouble for. Patton and Logan elected not to participate, and Virgil was reluctant to admit anything. Roman, on the other hand, told them about the time he and one of his brothers put a wad of gum in their older sister’s hair and no one could get it out. She had to cut it super short and they ended up feeling bad about it. The days they were meant to be grounded for got canceled out by their sister shaving part of their heads and forcing them to get haircuts as well.

“What were you even expecting to happen?” Virgil gave Roman the usual ‘you’re-a-dumb-idiot’ look (but in a rare addition of amusement) as he messed around with the straw of his drink.

Roman shrugged. “I don’t know, dude. We were dumb and he’s a bad influence, but we learned not to mess with her after that. Especially after she started taking taekwondo lessons.” He reached into the large fry pile that they made. “Don’t act like you’ve never done anything dumb like that before.”

“Of course not. I’m an only child.” He hid his smirk by taking a sip of his drink.

Roman tossed a fry at him. “Whatever. You’ve had to have done something stupid in your childhood.”

“I somehow doubt that Virgil has ever done anything along your lines of idiocy,” Logan commented.

“Okay, rude.”

“He’s got a point, though,” Virgil said.

“You two don’t need to pick on Roman all the time,” Patton interjected. “Give him a break.”

Roman stuck his tongue out at Virgil. “Yeah! Thanks, Dad.”

Patton grinned while Logan rolled his eyes. Virgil was forced to stick his tongue out in retaliation.

“Back on the subject,” Thomas snuck into the conversation, “is there really nothing you’ve ever done that’s gotten you into big trouble?”

Virgil went back to messing with the straw. “I don’t know if I’m willing to confess my childhood shenanigans to you guys.”

“Oh, come on. They can’t be as bad as that time I got arrested.” He snatched up a fry as if the most Earth-shattering thing didn’t just come out of his mouth.

Roman inhaled a piece of food and started choking. Virgil’s jaw dropped. What the actual fuck.

“You’ve been arrested before?” Virgil didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Part of him wanted to scream instead.

Thomas stopped and grinned sheepishly. “Just once. I used to be a graffiti artist in the seventies and I got caught writing on something I shouldn’t have. The charges were dropped, though.”

Roman downed the rest of his soda. “Oh my God.” He coughed. “I can’t believe you’ve been arrested. You’re just a little baby. How could that happen to you?”

He shrugged. “Accident.”

Patton and Logan didn't look very amused.

After continuing to freak out over Thomas being arrested by an actual police officer before, they finished up so they could get back home. But neither Roman or Virgil could get over it. Thomas Sanders -- the same Thomas that cries during emotional movies and the same one that tried to avoid cursing -- was arrested for committing a crime. A minor misdemeanor really, but that didn’t change the disbelief. Roman was right. Thomas was a little baby. It wasn’t comprehensible for him to be doing any kind of illegal activity.

They freaked the fuck out even more when he mentioned, at the time, he could have passed as a twelve-year-old. In hindsight, he probably should have kept that to himself. He wasn’t ever going to hear the end of it.

By the time they were almost home, Roman and Virgil calmed down about it at least a little bit. Patton decided to change the subject before one or both of them had an aneurysm.

The street that led back home was empty once they got there. It wasn’t ever busy on the weekends since the majority of the buildings lining it were businesses or other buildings of that nature. So it was quiet and there wasn’t anyone to give them a second glance. It was because of this, though, that Virgil noticed Thomas coming to a complete stop. When people were around, he tried to avoid their attention and move as fast as possible to where he needed to be. Without them, he was able to look around more.

He stopped as well and turned toward Thomas. He was looking up at an office building. Virgil followed his gaze, but couldn’t see anything of note. “You okay, kid?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I -- I just --” He glanced at the group before returning his eyes up to the building. “I just thought I saw… something.” He frowned. “Hold on.” He took off before anyone could say anything about it.

“Thomas,” Patton cried out in alarm.

Virgil was the first to follow after him, glancing vaguely in each direction of the street before running across. Thomas already made it inside by the time he got to the door. He could see him turn up the stairs. Not wanting to waste any time, he tugged on the door. But it didn't budge. “What the hell?” He pulled it again, but it didn’t swing open as it had for Thomas.

“It’s locked?” Roman ran up to him. He stared at the door in confusion. He pulled at the second one beside it, then pushed, but it didn’t move either way.

“What do you mean it’s locked?” Patton hovered nervously at Virgil’s side. “How is it locked?”

“Maybe he locked it?”

“Wha -- you can’t lock a door like this without a key.” Virgil shook the handle for emphasis. There wasn’t any way to lock it like a normal house door. It was an entrance to an office building -- it needed a key to be locked.

Roman threw his hands up. “So then how the hell did he get in if it was already locked?”

Patton and Logan shared a worried glance. “We have to get in,” Logan said.

“How?” Roman waved his arms in the direction of the doors. “We have no way of opening these.”

“I’ll just --” He reached for the door, only to yank his hand back -- “I can’t… I can’t do anything.” He looked down at his hands, then back up at the group. “Patton.” He fumbled over his words, struggling to push out a complete sentence, before giving up and pointing at the door. “Open it.”

Patton grimaced, inching forward to be in front. “Oh, I hope I don’t break anything too much.” He placed his hand between the two doors. Soon, weeds began to break through the crack. They pushed out and out until both doors popped open. He pulled one open all the way and rushed inside, followed by Logan.

“You can wait for us at least,” Roman called after them.

“Taking off just runs in the family.” Virgil grabbed Roman’s wrist and tugged him through the door.

They tried to keep up with Logan and Patton, but that proved a much more difficult task than anticipated. It was almost unfair how fast they were compared to Roman and Virgil. Though, if she perceives that her cub is in danger, it isn’t as if momma bear will take her time.

It wasn’t until they reached the third floor did they find Thomas. He stood in a partially vacant room with a large window that faced the street. It appeared as if the contents of the room were in the process of being taken elsewhere. Boxes were piled up in various corners.

"Thomas," Patton and Logan exclaimed at the same time. They hurried over to him, inspecting to see if he was okay.

"What made you run away like that?" Patton asked. He put his hands on Thomas’s shoulders.

Thomas took his eyes off the window and onto the very concerned faces of Patton and Logan. "I just thought I saw something."

"So you run away?" Logan crossed his arms

"What if something happened to you?"

Virgil and Roman idled in the doorway. If anyone has ever had a moment where you're at a friend's house, and then their parent starts lecturing them, then you know that uncertain and awkward feeling. It was an uncertain and awkward feeling that Virgil and Roman were being exposed to. They weren't quite sure if they should speak up, or walk away, or do anything. So they ended up keeping their mouths shut and pretended to focus on other things.

Thomas sighed. "I'm sorry."

"It's our job to keep you safe," Patton continued. "We can't keep you safe if you wander around without letting us know."

“I know.”

Patton gave a vague semblance of a smile and dropped his hands. “Let’s go home, alright?”

“We’ll discuss this later,” Logan added.

They walked back out to the open office floor. There were a lot of things put in boxes out here as well. Perhaps this particular floor was moving elsewhere. No matter, that wasn’t the main focus of this trip. Patton continued to make worried comments toward Thomas, asking if he was sure he was fine, but Thomas didn’t make very convincing answers. He mostly brushed it all off.

Once they made it back down to the second floor, everyone stopped dead when they heard a door creak open. They held their breath, seeing the door pulled into another room. Virgil expected a businessman, or otherwise threatening authority figure, but who stepped out did not meet his expectations. It was a rather soft-looking woman. A woman of average height with short brown hair -- who wasn’t even wearing a suit or dressed formally at all. She closed the door and looked up, peaceful expression turning surprised.

“Oh, well, wasn’t expecting this,” she said with a small smile.

Virgil wasn’t sure if that phrase was supposed to be significant in any way. He hadn’t ever seen this woman before. At least, he didn’t think so. And by the looks of it, Roman hadn’t either. Patton and Logan, on the other hand, seemed as if they just saw a ghost. Thomas stood there with wide eyes. No one said anything. No one moved.

“M-Mom?” With that simple word, Thomas’s eyes began to water.

The woman looked at him and her smile widened.

“Mom.” Thomas booked it over to her before Patton or Logan could stop him. He crashed into her, wrapping his arms around her, and crying. “Mama.”

Virgil felt as if the air had been pulled from his lungs. Something… something wasn’t right. A little voice screamed at him to get Thomas away from her. But the voice wasn’t his. It didn’t sound familiar. His uneasiness increased tenfold when he saw Logan and Patton. They were still horrified. Patton had his hands covering his mouth. He must have been doing a very good job holding in his empath magic because there were tears in his eyes but Virgil didn't feel a single one.

“Thomas,” Logan started, voice serious and steady. “You need to get back here. Right now."

"What?" Thomas pulled back, wiping his eyes. "But it's my mom. You know how long it's been since the last time I saw her."

"Yes, but that's not --" His voice cracked. Virgil could see the tears forming in his eyes before he shut them.

"Don't listen to him, baby," she said. Her voice was soothing. Like any mother who tries to calm down her child. "He doesn't know what he's talking about."

Logan took a deep breath before attempting to speak again. "Thomas," he still sounded serious, but much more hollow than before, "look at her. Really look at her." He opened his eyes. "That's the last thing we ever saw her in."

Thomas took a step back from her to do as he was instructed. She wasn't wearing anything modern. Or even something that was intended to be worn outside of the house. She had on a silk robe decorated in flowers with a soft pink nightgown underneath. Even her feet were bare.

She wasn't real.

"But…" Thomas took another step back. "How -- why --?" He looked so torn.

"It's alright, Thomas." She took a step toward him. "I'm right here." She opened her arms for a welcoming hug.

And Thomas hesitated.

"Thomas," Patton begged. "Please."

Virgil was almost convinced Thomas wouldn’t listen. This was his mom. Why wouldn’t he think to turn to her first? But he didn’t. He took another step away from her. Fresh tears welled in his eyes as he continued to back away.

The woman frowned. “Thomas.” She dropped her arms. “I’m your mother.”

“I…” He stopped. “M-my --”

“She’s not,” Logan insisted as he stepped forward. “Not anymore.”

“Thomas, you have to believe us.” Patton joined Logan and took his hand. “She really isn’t your mom.”

The woman’s frown deepened as she looked at them. “As if you two would know anything about that. Neither of you had much of an example of what a mother should be.”

Patton's expression shifted to hurt while Logan appeared ready to punch her in the nose. Thomas stared at her in shock.

"Come on, Thomas, I think you've spent enough time with them." She regained her sweet smile and extended a hand toward him.

He didn't take it. He put more distance between them. "I've spent most of my life with them. I'm not just gonna leave."

She looked genuinely surprised by this. "You would rather stay?"

"I can't imagine doing anything else."

Confusion flicked across her face before steadying into something else -- an almost complete 180 of her original sweet persona. More than a furious mother, she seemed downright pissed off. “Thomas, I am trying to make this easier for you. Come here right now.”

“No.”

That didn’t appear to be the right thing to say. “What?”

“I, I said no. I’m not going with you.”

Virgil put his hands in his pockets, curling his fingers around the pens inside. He noticed Roman fidgeting with his bracelet.

“Fine. We’re going to have to do this the hard way.” She straightened out her robe and reached out for him.

Then a few things happened at once. Roman and Virgil summoned their weapons. A bright flash of light erupted before them, and a figure moved swiftly to be in front of Thomas. He seized the woman’s wrist.

“Picani,” Thomas exclaimed.

Or at least… it almost was. He didn’t quite look like himself; appearing more mashed together than usual. Not even his height was the same. His skin was darker. His hair was also darker and a bit curlier. The most drastic difference, however, was his eyes. One was a scalding bright blue, and the other was a dark sky.

“Oh, Cali, I was wondering if you were going to join us.” She yanked her arm back. Her eyes scanned him up and down. “You seem a bit broken though. Are you sure you can hold it together?”

“We can hold it just fine,” he said, Patton’s and Logan’s voices layering over one another.

The corner of her mouth turned up. “Sure sounds like it.”

He scowled. “Thomas, go over to Roman and Virgil.”

Thomas didn’t hesitate to do so.

The woman watched him go with an unreadable expression. Virgil couldn't tell if she was angry or not. "I never figured my own son would stop listening to me one day. After everything I ever did to keep you safe."

"You're not her."

"I was," she snapped, turning her head back to glare at Picani. "I was alive once. I used to be Brigida Sanders -- you used to know me. I'm the reason you're even here at all." She threw a punch at him, only missing because Picani deflected her hand. That didn't appear to slow her down at all.

Roman pulled Thomas back so there would be a greater distance between them and the fight. Virgil followed after.

"Think about it, Cal." She twisted his arm back and pressed her forearm across his shoulders. "What would have happened if Booker and I never found you? Do you think you would have made it very far?" She pushed down on him. "Would you have even accepted yourself?"

Picani's form flickered, allowing him to break out of her hold. "You are not the only reason we are here today."

"I beg to differ." She went at him again, though this time Picani wasn't as capable of blocking her. "I gave you everything. I made sure to protect you. I never let anyone put you down for being who you are. And yet you won't even let me have my son back." With every sentence, her blows hit harder.

Picani stepped away. He put his hands on his knees and breathed in and out in quick successions as if experiencing an intense exercise for the first time. “We promised to protect him.”

“And look what a great job you’ve done,” she retorted, sarcasm dripping from every word as she kicked him back.

In a quick flash of light, Logan and Patton fell to the floor.

“I gave him to you so he’d be safe from those who wanted to hurt him, but now he’s right on Altair’s radar.” She stood in front of them with a scowl. “What kind of protection is that?”

“We tried.” Patton struggled to sit up.

“A lot of good that did.” Her eyes lifted to Thomas. “It’s time for you to join everyone else.”

Thomas tensed. Roman and Virgil stood in front of him protectively. But she didn’t even get to take a step. A tip of a sword appeared in front of her face, halting her progress. Her eyes widened in shock. Logan rose to his feet. He adjusted the sword so it was properly in his hands, but kept it trained on Brigida.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” She raised a brow.

“Have to get rid of you somehow,” he responded.

“I suppose so.” She reached into her pockets and pulled out two matching daggers. The blades and handles were white. The grips had an intricate twisted design laced with gold leading up to the pommels. She put them together and they morphed into one, changing shape and size into a sword. “But I think we both know how this is going to end.”

Logan seemed less confident now -- not that he had time to feel that for long. Brigida swung at him.

As Brigida pushed forward, Virgil made a bee-line to Patton with Roman and Thomas following close behind.

“Are you okay?” Virgil kneeled in front of him.

“What? Y-yeah, yeah I’m fine.” He kept his eyes trained on Brigida and Logan. “I have to --” he stopped abruptly, patting his pockets with widened eyes. “I don’t have a weapon.” Panicked, he placed his hand on the carpet. “We’re on the second floor.” He drew his hand back, eyes briefly scanning over Roman and Virgil’s weapons, and looked around. “Dirt. I need dirt. A potted plant -- something.” He stood up.

“What about this one?” Roman picked up a succulent resting on a nearby desk.

Patton's eyes fluttered over it. “Fake.”

Roman and Thomas looked at it. In all fairness, it seemed pretty real, but perhaps the elf who could control plants knew what he was talking about. Roman tossed it back on the desk.

“You’re doing great, honey,” Patton called out with a nervous smile.

“Some help would be nice,” Logan shot back. He ducked out of the way of an oncoming sword.

“I’m working on it.” He glanced around the room, shifting from foot to foot. “I need to find a real plant.” He looked at Virgil and Roman. “Stay here with Thomas. I’ll be back as fast as I can.” He took off.

“Shouldn’t one of us help Logan?” Virgil cried out after him.

“I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Virgil stood up. “He can’t be serious,” he deadpanned.

“Think about it,” Thomas started in a whisper. “You’ve only known how to fight for two months. My mom’s been able to fight for a couple centuries. I don’t even think Logan would be able to beat her on his own.”

“Isn’t that a good reason to try?” Virgil tightened his grip on his daggers. As he gazed at the two fighting, Right made quiet suggestions on how to best assist Logan.

“I’m kinda with Thomas on this one, Virge,” Roman said. “We have almost no experience -- especially compared to her. How much help can we possibly be?”

That was a solid point. They wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight against her. But still. Virgil couldn’t help but feel he had to do something. As if it was his responsibility to fix this somehow. There was something deep inside of him that insisted he needed to get rid of her. He had to protect everyone.

Logan hit the ground. His sword was on far from his reach. Brigida stood over him and pulled apart the hilt of her sword, forcing it to return to her hands as two daggers. She adjusted one of them to be in a proper grip. "Good effort, kiddo.”

Virgil reacted on pure instinct. He heard Thomas and Roman's muffled voices, but they didn't impede his progress. He had to do this. Almost as if by muscle memory, he hit his forearm against Brigida’s and pushed it down and around, using her momentum to turn her body away. Once her back was toward him, he shoved her as hard as he could. After it happened, he realized he had an open opportunity to strike, yet he didn’t utilize it. He just wanted to get her far away.

“How the hell did you do that?” Logan’s voice almost didn't register to Virgil's ears.

“I have no idea.” Virgil turned to him.

“Well, we’re not out of it yet.” He got up and grabbed his sword.

The hairs on the back of Virgil’s neck stood on end. He spun around in time to see Brigida slash down with her dagger. He narrowly missed the blade by sidestepping out of the way. He tried to ignore how close she was to almost stabbing him. It was easy to do once he had to block another one of her attacks.

"Oh, those are cute," she commented, eyeing up his daggers. "I'll have to take them off you later." She used their interlocked daggers to her advantage. She pulled on one of them and kicked his leg up, sending him tumbling down.

Much to his chagrin, he realized this was a similar move he had seen before. When Logan threw Roman to the ground.

"Move!" Roman's voice hissed at him.

No need to tell Virgil twice. He rolled in time for Brigida to slam her dagger down. Instead of hitting Virgil, thank God, it stuck into the ground.

She lowered herself enough to whisper, "Stand down, kid." She almost sounded genuine. Then she stood up to deal with Logan.

Like hell would Virgil listen to her. If anything he was being a rather good distraction. He needed to buy Patton more time. With a new goal in mind, he tried to stand up -- except he couldn't get anywhere. He fell back to the floor. It didn't take him long to notice that Brigida's dagger was stabbed through his hoodie pocket. Fuck. He should have zipped it up. He let go of Left so he could pull it out, but when he tugged on it it wouldn't budge. "Jesus, lady," he grumbled to himself. How the hell did she manage this?

"Virgil," Thomas called out. He was hiding behind Roman, eyes apprehensively glancing between his mom and Logan fighting, and the predicament Virgil found himself in. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He tugged on it again. This time he managed to move it, but not very much. He had no clue how she stabbed the floor this hard.

“Do you need any help? Or do you have any other dumb stunts to aid you?” Roman raised a brow in his usual ‘you’re-an-idiot-and-I’m-right’ expression.

Virgil glared at him. “I got it.” Sort of. Much to his pain, he realized the easiest option would be to tear his hoodie loose, which would leave a rather unfortunate hole. If he tried to continue pulling out the dagger he’d just be wasting more time. In the end, he decided ruining his favorite hoodie was a small price to pay.

He took each side of the pocket and yanked it up. It got caught on the hilt the first time. But the second time the fabric gave way. He couldn’t lie; that hurt his soul a bit.

“Virgil!”

Virgil didn’t have any time to react. In a split second, he saw Roman and Thomas disappear and then he fell. He landed flat on his back with enough force to knock the wind out of him. The clang of metal was loud and clear in his ears as Right slipped out of his hand. He tried to pick himself up, but he didn’t quite get there. Instead, he rolled to his side, which was at least halfway there and deserved some form of compensation in his opinion. Getting the air knocked out of you was tough shit. Give him some credit.

All of that seemed rather irrelevant, however, when he saw Brigida’s dagger fall over the edge. “What the hell?” His chest constricted as the words passed his lips, but he ignored it. He pushed himself to his feet and immediately wanted to sit back down.

He was on a rather high catwalk. More confusing was that he seemed to be in a theatre. All the seats below him were empty and the bare minimum of lights was on. He held onto the bars to calm his vertigo, but it didn’t help that his hands were slick from sweat. Luckily, part of his attention got dragged somewhere else. Voices. Brigida and Logan were on the stage below.

“You know,” her voice carried up to the catwalk with traces of annoyance. “I don’t even have to take you back to Altair at all. I just have to kill you.”

Logan took a defensive position. “Do it, then.”

“Sure thing.”

No.

No, no, no, no. She would absolutely be able to do that. No. That couldn’t happen. Virgil needed to get down there as fast as possible. Patton would kill him if he stood back and watched. Not that he even entertained the idea, anyway. He located the exit of the catwalk and scooped up his daggers, scurrying off to the door.

He took the stairs down as fast as was safely possible which resulted in him almost running face-first into the door when he reached the bottom. He pushed it open and raced out. He was in one of the wings. None of the main lights were on, but he could see props and equipment silhouetted by the dim blue light. There was a chance he’d trip over something with the rather large mess this posed. Who the hell was performing here? Didn’t they care about safety?

As Virgil navigated his way to an opening, he glanced through the legs to see onstage. With one dagger it seemed as if Brigida struggled to fight back. Not even someone like her would have a good time going up against a sword with such a close-encounter weapon. This was good. By the time Virgil made it onstage, Logan already had Brigida on the ground. Disarmed and with nowhere to go.

He held the tip of his sword to her throat.

Brigida stared at it before bringing her eyes up to Logan. Her expression morphed to be one of hurt. Both frightened and betrayed at the same time. “C’mon, L,” she said, voice wavering. “You wouldn’t hurt me, would you?”

Logan hesitated. Recognition and uncertainty crossed his features. She struck a nerve.

Virgil didn’t get to register what Right had whispered to him before it happened. And he became frozen.

Brigida kicked Logan back, knocking the sword out of his hand. As he stumbled, she picked it up. All sound was caught in Virgil’s throat as she ran it through Logan. Her face showed no remorse -- or even a lack of expression as other Figments -- instead, she wore a sly smirk. She was proud to have lowered Logan’s defenses so easily. She felt something.

She drew the sword back out. Logan took a step back, shaky hands moving to cover his gaping wound. “You were always the weak one.” She shoved him down. “Always too afraid to use your full potential.” He tried to get away, but she kept him down. “Always needing someone to say you’re doing it right. Because mommy and daddy didn’t love you enough. You’re nothing but flaws, Logan. After all this time, that's the one thing you haven't changed.”

“Throw me!” Left all but screamed at Virgil in Patton’s voice.

Brigida lifted the sword.

Like a gear in clockwork, Virgil raised the dagger and threw it. After it left his fingers, a crippling fear hit him at once. He hadn’t thrown his daggers much before. He could miss. He could piss her off and get Logan killed. Why didn’t he think before he threw?

The dagger struck between her eyes. She looked straight at Virgil in surprise. Black ooze leaked out, sliding down over her mouth, then she was gone. Both the dagger and sword fell from their positions. Everything around them fizzled out of existence; they were on the first floor of the office building again.

Virgil stood there in shock. It took Right yelling at him to get him to move. He ran toward Logan and kneeled at his side.

“Oh my God,” he muttered. “Are you alright? No, God.” He placed his hands over the wound, earning a wince from Logan. “I, uh, what do I do?” He tried to not start panicking, but that proved easier said than done. Blood was seeping in between his fingers. Real blood. Actual blood. This wasn’t some horrible vision or a what-if scenario. This was happening right here and he wasn’t prepared for it.

“P-Patton,” Logan choked out.

Virgil furrowed his brows. “Patton?” Then it sunk in. “Patton. Heal. H-he can heal.” He shot up from the ground and ran up the stairs.

The three stood around having an argument that no doubt was seeded in worry.

“Patton.”

They stopped and looked in the direction of Virgil's voice.

Virgil couldn’t think of any words. He held out his hands, both covered in blood. He saw Patton’s eyes scan every inch of him. “Logan.”

Patton’s eyes shot up to Virgil’s face as if needing to see validity. Seeming to find it, he wasted no time in bolting down the stairs.

The others followed after.

All of Patton's English flew out the window when he reached the first floor. Logan winced as his hands were removed and replaced by Patton’s. He whispered calming foreign words as a soft blue glow clashed with the jarring red. Logan kept his eyes screwed shut throughout the whole thing.

Soon, Patton sighed in relief and removed his hands. No one commented on the blood that stained them. “How you feeling?”

Logan groaned and sat up. “Sore.” His hand hovered over the previously open wound. The only evidence that it ever happened was the tear in his shirt and the blood. “You’d think it would be easier the second time.”

“Wait, what?” Roman cried.

Patton chuckled. “Don’t worry about that.” He helped Logan to his feet.

“Are you sure he’s alright?” Virgil gazed at Logan worriedly. “Don’t people who lose blood need transfusions or something?”

“Transfusions only occur if hemoglobin levels are seven or eight grams per deciliter. And he hasn’t passed out so I’d say that’s a pretty good indicator that he’ll live without one.”

Virgil and Roman stared at Patton. Then turned their eyes to Logan.

He seemed to be trying to keep himself steady until he noticed the eyes on him. He looked at them in confusion. “What are you staring at me for? He’s right.”

“Besides,” Patton continued. “We don’t technically exist. The only identification we have is Picani’s."

“Can we just go home now?” Thomas cut in.

Patton stared at him for a moment. "Oh, of course."

They had to be careful to not let anyone else see the blood on their way out.

When they got back, Thomas wasted no time going up the stairs to his room. He didn't say a word. Just left the others behind as soon as the opportunity came up. Patton and Logan watched him go and sighed when his door slammed closed. That didn't seem like a good sign.

"Does this seem like a Picani problem?" Patton turned to Logan.

"It most certainly does. But if we try fusing again I think that might actually kill me so let's avoid that." He placed a hand where Brigida stabbed him.

Roman frowned as he gazed up the stairs. "We could always send Virgil up there."

"What?" Virgil gave him an incredulous look.

Roman returned the look as if it was obvious. "You're the next best thing. He likes you. You help him with so many things and he tells you everything. You'll probably deal with this better than all of us."

"I think he's right," Patton agreed.

Oh great. Now he couldn't weasel out of it. "Let me clean the blood off first," he sighed.

After scrubbing his hands, he headed up the stairs. The little blackboard on Thomas's door had the same message it did for the past two months. No one changed it or attempted to erase it all the way. Virgil knocked underneath it. "Hey, kid, it's me. If you don't want me coming in say something now or else I'm going to take it as an invitation." He waited but didn't get anything. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door.

He couldn’t see Thomas at first. His initial thought was that he somehow got out, but his reasoning skills set in. There was a scrunched up pile of blankets on the bed. He had to be under there.

He sat down at the edge of the bed. The bundle of blankets didn’t move. “You doing okay?” He placed his hands in his lap.

There came a muffled response of, “Peachy.” From the one word alone, Virgil could tell something wasn’t quite right. It didn’t sound like him. A quiet sniffle soon told him why.

How would he approach this? “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I want Picani.”

Oh, sweet Jesus. He sounded like a heartbroken little kid. Virgil couldn’t handle this right now. “He’d come up here if he could, but I don’t think he’d stick around very long. I’m afraid you only have me. If you don’t want to talk, you don’t have to.”

He let out a broken sound. “I… I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to believe that she -- that everyone -- that they’re… they’re…” He shattered into pieces. Even through the fabric, his sobbing was clear and audible. “I-I just wanted them to be fine. I wanted it so bad, but it was dumb and naive to keep thinking that way. And it hurts. I ignored everything telling me the truth because I didn’t wanna stop believing that they were out there somewhere. But they’re not. Of course they weren’t. I knew that the moment I met you, but it took me seeing my mom as a Figment to get me to believe it.”

“The moment you met me?” Something squirmed inside Virgil’s chest. His hands turned clammy.

“You have her eyes.”

Her eyes.

“You’re a lot like her. You have that same light in your eyes."

“Because they’ll see the same thing I did.”

“I guess history repeats itself, after all.”

He… he used to be Brigida.

“I-I just wanna be alone right now.” Thomas further pulled his blankets around himself. His next words came out even more muffled than before, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Virgil obeyed without another word. His movements didn’t feel quite like his own as he walked toward the door. Like he had control but someone else was doing the action. Maybe it had to do with his missing puzzle piece making things more complicated rather than complete.

(Next)