#and HARDLY A CONCRETE MOTIVE TO SPEAK OF

[wisteriasymphony]

plot bunny: What if Lila/Iris was a random person who found Ladybug dead and decided to impersonate her so that the city could still have their hero.

[tarmac-rat]

WIP (Last) Wednesday

Tagged by @ghostoffuturespast

Hey y'all! I'm taking a hot little mental break from intense internet usage, partially work motivated and partially because my head just isn't feelin' all that zesty at the moment. I'm probably going to just take it easy for a little while so I promise I'm not ignoring anyone but I just really need a break from being online for a bit and spring-clean my head.

That also extends to a few tag games and I WILL be getting to those when I have a brain that doesn't feel like concrete slurry lol.

Not tagging anyone this round, hope y'all'll forgive me for that because you know how much I love reading shit, but please give it a whirl if you want!

From Chapter 18 of Rain in the Desert. Trying something a little different literarily in the one scene where I think it could possibly fit:

“For fuck’s sake, Alt, you had one job— one goddamn job— and you fucked it up!” the fury in Johnny’s voice could’ve burned this whole place down to ashes. He’s facing the AI fully now, chromed and ‘ganic hands both clenched in shaking fists, as though he’s debating when to stop throwing barbs and start throwing punches. ““Promised the kid a new life and what, all the sudden she’s just a goner? You fucking lied!?” “I could not know the situation until I ran a thorough and precise diagnosis.” “Well, run it again!” “The data is conclusive—” “Run. It. Again.” The world has closed in. Suddenly, V is aware of everything around her. The errant pixels floating on the air. The streams of data writhing beneath her fingers. The empty synthetic pulse of this coded Netscape pounding in her ears as it presses down on her.  The fact that she can’t feel her heartbeat. How had she not noticed that she can’t feel her heartbeat? “All testing conducted before and after the engram creation procedure has drawn the same results. Were V’s engram to be reuploaded back into her form, the body would remain stable for several weeks. But soon, it would begin to degenerate. Muscle tissue will atrophy. Neurons will attack neurons. Cellular growth will stall, then break down entirely, poisoning the host’s internal systems until they fail, one by one.”  “Get to the point, goddamnit! In human terms!” “Under these conditions, the body would survive for about six months. Perhaps somewhat more. Then it will die, and she along with it.” Everything is spinning. V can’t breathe, can’t focus, can hardly make sense of her own thoughts anymore. She wants to speak but all her words are hooks in the back of her throat, sinking deeper into flesh the more she tries to force them out. In the midst of the roiling chaos inside of her, V eyes have dropped to the tips of her steel-toed boots, red stark against the blue below them. And if she dares to look long and hard enough, she can see something flickering there. Faint lines of code, perfect rows of data hidden beneath the surface, pulled along her form like blood pulled through a vein. “Bullshit! Everything you just said has been bullshit! We get you into Mikoshi, you save her life— that was the fuckin’ deal, Alt! Fix this!” “There is nothing I can do. The Relic’s nanites have irreversibly altered the host organism in order to accommodate the construct stored within. From this point forward, the body will see V as an intruder.” “But it’s her body!” “No. It is yours.”  Six months.  That’s all she gets from this. Six more painful, agonizing, soul-shredding months of life in a mutinous body, and then she’s gone.  Just like that. Everything they’d done. Everyone they’d killed. Every bloodied and battered and broken step that brought them here. Every. Last. One. For nothing. Unless she lets him slide into her skin. It’s tailored for him now. It won’t reject him. He would survive.  Live on. A life for a life. She swore she’d take a bullet for him.  He swore he’d take it first. One body, two people, and the fool’s pact they made in a tiny motel room at the end of the world. It all comes cycling back.  Like it always does.  Like it always will. “—you understand?” It’s a few seconds before V realizes that Alt’s question had been directed towards her. “I…” she stammers, then trails off, her voice sputtering off into nothingness.  She can’t stop staring at her boots. “Do you understand?” V shakes her head. “G-g-gimme a minute,” she finally forces out, “I ne..I-I need to think.” “You must make a—” “I said, give me one fucking minute!” V snarls. A long lull follows that. Then, she hears Alt’s detached voice echoing out; “Very well.”

[nobuverse]

v; Jujutsu Kaisen ( Kagetora )

Age: 21

Position: Jujitsu Sorcerer, Special Grade 1

Heavenly Restriction: Bishamonten's Blessing

While Kagetora will attribute her inhuman strength to be a gift from Bishamoten, given to her to punish evil-doers, there is no proven divine aspect to her powers. This powerful pact, which rids her of any ability to wield cursed energy or see cursed spirits for herself, can be divided into four parts:

The first is, of course, her immense strength, agility and endurance beyond any normal human ability. The way it plays on her strength seems to be the most powerful of the three, though her lack of fear for any injury can give the impression her endurance is just as powerful.

Second, is the way in which her own belief plays into her own strength and abilities. Though the effects seems rather nebulous to those attempting to quantify it, it seems simply believing things as projectiles will not be able to hit her can send them off their course ( though does not apply to any created by or amplified by cursed energy, however. ) The stronger the motivation in her cause, the more her power will exponentially increase, along with her ability to take damage. Conversely, losing to self-doubt or questioning her own actions can almost nullify it completely. For this reason, she choses not to visualize what she is fighting.

The third is her ability to sense 'evil' as the avatar of Bishamoten. This ability allows her to sense cursed spirits without specialized eyewear, even if she cannot physically see them. This also extends to people to a certain degree- though she can be fooled by someone who`s heart is well trained in the art of even deceiving themselves.

Lastly, Kagetora has the ability to gain knowledge of battle passed down from the weapons of the deceased, so long as that information is passed along willingly to her. If a piece of the wielder's soul is still attached to their weapon of choice, their expertise with it will be accumulated as she practices with it. As a result, she's gained the ability to wield a variety of different weapons - even if her lance is still her default instrument of choice.

Backstory:

Kagetora was born as a true monster - feared by both other children and her family alike. Some would later say that her inability to feel empathy was part of the trade for her heavenly restriction; that alone would have those around her unsettled. But reality was far worse than that.

Though she had no villainous intentions, she'd easily break the hands of her siblings trying to hold their hands, as effortlessly as she'd break just about any object she held with the slightest bit of frustration. This child, who did not understand the harm they caused, the tears others shed - was a true demon.

She was handed to the Buddhist temples, to be exorcised as they saw fit. Even there, they were all scared of her - the explanations of heavenly restrictions well beyond their scope of knowledge. Either out of pity - or the fear of even trying to kill her - however, she was kept alive. Given enough patience and time, she did eventually learn to control that immense strength, and taught all the things she should need to fit into human society. She was taught to smile, to put others at ease, to follow the eight fold path of Buddhism to one day reach true understanding.

When she started to age into her teenage years, however, a new problem started to become apparent. She would begin to speak of sensing evils in empty spaces, reaching her hands out to crush things that didn't exist. Even worse, she began to grab at people in the streets, grabbing at invisible forces she claimed to be attached to them. Though she had learned to control her body enough not to hurt those she flipped over to their side, she would leave dents in walls and concrete as she stroke at these evils no one else could see.

They'd hardly had time to try and rectify the behavior, however, when people came back to the temple, looking for her. There visits would not be motivated by revenge, but an overwhelming gratefulness few of them could explain. It was though a weight had been lifted off their shoulders, an unbearable pressure taken off their chests. Nightmares ended, traumas resolved - it was as incredible as it was unexplained.

Once feared as a demon of unknown origin, Kagetora became known as a savior - someone chosen by the divine to fight evil plaguing at humanity.

Then, it was at the turn of adulthood that everything would grow somber once more. When a man of considerate evil came to her - pressured by his family to fix whatever was wrong with him by meeting this so-called miracle worker. With this one, she could sense only evil inside of him, not attached to him like the others.

When she refused to bless him ( or whatever else his relatives had expected her to do ) - he became irate. He laid his hands on her, insistent.

Don't touch me.

She'd warned him, trying to stand her ground as firmly as possible. But she was not so divine and perfect as they thought her to be - she was getting angry.

When this miserable man finally struck at her - she struck back; with terrible consequences. She had not focused on holding back, not realizing what she'd done until she saw the chipped pieces of his skull in her knuckles. What a pity she'd forgotten how to hold any other expression but a smile.

What should have been an execution was intervened at that point on the judgement of the jiujitsu academy - and Kagetora traded her freedom in exchange for her life. She would spend the rest of her days trying to redeem herself, having already broken the first and most heinous of the precepts: to take a life.

[ars-gratia-auden]

There might have been a difference, but even if there was, Auden would maintain their stance that cold, hard realism won the day until their bitter end. They didn’t feel like arguing over this with Zuleima, especially given it took all sorts of outlooks to make the world turn. If the dhampir wanted to cling to optimism as a motivator, so be it. Auden simply didn’t want to hear her, or anyone else for that matter’s, prattling about the unwavering strength of the human spirit. “Like I said, dies screaming, and so apparently would you,” Auden stated simply. “Though I should hate to see it come to that.” 

Auden quietly listened to Zuleima speak of the concrete component, and while the artillerist sounded somewhat exhausted by the development process Auden felt this hardly qualified as a defeat. “You recall the great dam system that diverted and now holds back the Elderwake River?” Auden responded. It was a feat of engineering that garnered onlookers for decades, centuries even–the great wall that held back enough water to clear a floodplain for civilization while housing a great reservoir to support the cityscape around it–a marvel by virtue of the impossibility it accomplished. “They say the concrete used in that project will be curing for the better part of the next seven decades. Curing or not, it still meets its mark to serve its purpose and has for over a hundred years.” It was meant to be encouraging, though this was not particularly obvious by their steady tone. 

“Well, if you’re lucky and you ask very kindly, I’m sure one of the necromancers would love to reanimate a corpse and you can ask it all the questions you please,” Auden responded with no shortage of amusement. 

The elvhen watched as Zuleima studied the blueprint and didn’t much care to dig out the several scrolls with notes and updates to the design. The past creations had been something of prototypes–Auden knew they wouldn’t last, but if they worked and how long they worked brought them closer to a worthwhile design. “I have a lead on one potential material, though I would be lying if I said I had much faith in it as a viable solution. I haven’t re-fabricated this particular device in a few decades. My interest in it waxes and wanes,” Auden admitted. It seemed Zuleima had more than a few ideas that would help move the needle forward on the weapon. “You’re free to take that, if you wish. Have your own go at it.”

“There is a difference, I think,” Zuleima begins to say, hesitatingly. She has never been one for words, but she respects Auden far too much to let their remarks go unchallenged. Particularly because that it’s the dynamic that they have established for themselves. One of give and take, one of honesty within the bounds of their roles. Here, in an unfamiliar battlefield, Zuleima can rise to join them in their game of words, if only because she knows they will understand her attempts, bumbling as they are. “Between toxic optimism and bitter hopefulness. I can see and accept defeat when it’s upon me, but does that mean that I should lay down and take the results? I would not think so. Hope it’s a spirit made out of dirt, and it stands over and over again, despite being knocked down. I endeavor to do the same.”

A sigh escapes the artillerist, a shrug following as she admits the lack of knowledge on the very product she is trying to develop. 

“I am not quite sure, as I am in the middle of testing the matter,” she admits, a hand raising to rub the bridge of her nose. “I have tried 24, 36 and 48 hours. The end product is unsatisfactory. For this round, I have added a few new chemicals, and I will let it dry for a week, to see if the longer time will allow it to set properly.”

A look passes through her face as she hears the silent admission from the other, but she doesn’t address it, choosing to answer her second question instead. 

“Yes, I have,” she says, wistfulness entering her tone. “It’s a work of wonder, I must admit. It’s such a shame there are irreconcilable differences between us and their creatures, I would have loved to study the creation process in detail.”

It goes without saying that since the barrier managed to impress the Master Artillerist, it must be made through great skill, and the weight of reality hangs above them. The Aetheron empire is all too powerful, and despite their efforts, they are poorly prepared to receive it. 

The quick is quickly discarded, as she grows fascinated by the blueprint’s design, eyes flickering between Auden and the paper with undisguised interest.

“Have you tried metal compositions discovered more recently?” She asks as her eyes fall back in the blueprint, a humm rising at the back of her throat. “Or perhaps adding an insulator in key locations? Rubber does work wonders, but I suppose it’s harder to mass produce.”

[deamsgirl]

Heads Up 7 Up

Thanks to @maybenow22 for tagging me! Any mutuals (or lurkers) who want to participate: feel free to keep this going!

Another excerpt from my NaNoWriMo fic 72 Hours. I'm not going to even pretend I kept this at seven lines. Y'all know me too well for that. 😂 Anyway, I'll just be over here in my corner, crying and wondering why I hate free time so much that I decided NaNoWriMo was a good idea. 🤷‍♀️

Gary makes a mental note to check in on her himself periodically after this—his only recourse for motivating underconfident trainers with untapped potential now that he’s too old to fall back on his previous methods of goading them into success.

Or so Goh says.

Gary’s not convinced.

“Some trainers do. Others hardly ever use them, like a certain pokemon master and his shoulder ornament of a pikachu.” He winks at her as he pulls down one of the pokeballs from the shelf. “But you really don’t need to know all of this right now. Tracey’s getting a rotomdex registered to you as we speak, so you can always ask it any questions you have during your journey.”

“R-right,” the girl says, fingers tightening on her backpack straps as the magnitude of the responsibility in front of her seems to hit her all at once, like it does with so many other kids right before Gary hands them their starter.

A responsibility that's far too heavy for their small shoulders to carry, in Gary's opinion.

It’s one of many reasons why he and several other professors are in the process of petitioning the league to raise the trainer age from 10 to 15. He’s sure it will pass eventually, even with some of the old dinosaurs in the league moaning about younger generations being too soft. But until then, he offers her the only other support he has. “And you can always call me if you need to. I may not look like much now, but when I was your age, I was Master Ketchum’s rival.”

Lydia’s eyes widen, then narrow. She opens her mouth to undoubtedly express more skepticism (which Gary might be tempted to find insulting if it wasn’t so hilarious) when the entire building shakes, the floor rocking enough to make them both stumble to keep their footing.

Gary looks up when he hears a loud crack, horror blooming on his face as he watches the plaster start to fracture, a large fissure snaking to life along the ceiling above them. “Watch out!” he screams, pushing the little girl to the side a mere moment before the crack splits fully open, concrete and rebar raining down on him.

[nothoughtsonlynat]

Resurrect Me (N.R.)

Warnings: swearing; death; Hell/the Underworld; cliff jumping lol

Word Count≈ 3.1k (yikes lol my bad)

Hecate一 the goddess of magic, witchcraft, the night, the moon, ghosts, and necromancy. Known to be an intricate mosaic of good and evil, destruction and beauty. Capable of granting wishes, summoning the dead, resurrections, teleportation, warping realities on unfathomable scales, mind control, energy manipulation, and any sorcery or magic known to the Gods. Second only to Zeus himself.

I am the human embodiment of Hecate. I am not Hecate; she merely resides in the depths of my soul and provides me guidance. We do not communicate through words; she speaks through dreams and gut feelings, and sometimes even through signs in the outside world. I have not mastered the powers she’s granted me, nor have I reached my full potential. In addition to the Goddess’ powers, I hold the basic Olympian powers, such as superhuman speed and stamina. I have no recollection of how I merged with Hecate or the life I lived before this point, and she has provided me with no answers, but I do not question her motives. 

Agent Phil Coulson came across me in my temple in Turkey. Apparently, he had discovered strange energy readings coming from the temple. When he arrived, I used the power of energy manipulation to blow the concrete off of me, and that is the first thing I remember一 emerging from underneath Hecate’s temple.

I joined the Avengers during the Battle of New York. Agent Coulson had recommended me to Fury when he was piecing together the Avengers Initiative. In the three years between my awakening and the invasion, I practiced my sorcery mercilessly and studied Hecate deep in the Greek countryside. I’ve stuck with the Avengers throughout the years, fighting every battle alongside them. Through the ups and downs, I’ve fallen head over heels for Natasha Romanoff. One would assume that with so much power, I’d be confident and have any mortal begging at my feet. That couldn’t be any more inaccurate, however. As I’ve said, I am not Hecate; I am simply the human embodiment of the goddess. And as a human, I turn into a blushing, stuttering mess whenever the levelheaded assassin is near. Consequently, there have been many years of pining, but I’ve yet to muster up the courage to ask the woman on a date.

In our most recent war, we’ve gone up against a mad titan一 Thanos. We lost terribly. Half of all living things inhabiting the universe were snapped away. I can’t help but ponder whether things would’ve gone differently if I had better mastered my powers. I potentially hold all the capabilities of the goddess of magic; aside from Zeus, I hold more power than any being to ever exist. I’ve practiced my sorcery every day for the past five years on the off chance that we ever get a rematch一 a chance to bring everyone back. I’ve improved significantly, but Hecate has been oddly quiet for the past few years. It’s driving me crazy. I know she’s still there, but she hardly provides an ounce of guidance.

And so, that is where I find myself now一 practicing sorcery in the room specifically designed to isolate me when I use dark magic. Everyone who has access to the training section of the compound knows that they should never enter this room. It is far too dangerous for regular mortals. As I warp the room’s reality, a dark mist envelops me. When it clears, the room has changed into a 50s ballroom. I look down to see an elegant maroon ball gown covering my body, and I scan the empty area. I hear a pair of heels clicking toward me, and I spin around, already panicking. In order for someone to be here with me, they would have to be an inhabitant of the location’s true reality. My eyes land upon the woman I’ve grown to love, dressed up for the event. She is wearing an extravagant light blue ball gown, and her hair is carefully done up. 

“Natasha? What are you doing here?”

“Why I came to dance with you, of course.” She steps closer and drapes her arms around my neck, swaying to the nonexistent music. Stay calm. Don’t panic. There’s no way I’m making her do this. I’m not even doing anything! Of course I’m the one making her do this, who else would it be?! Breathe in. Breathe out. My powers don’t control me. I control them. Just breathe. I can do this. I know how to do this.

As I focus on the magic coursing through my veins, a black mist envelops us, and the room returns to its original form一 a basic training room with black padded walls. I immediately take a large step back from Natasha.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Natasha?! You know you can’t come in here! I could’ve seriously hurt you!”

“I...I’m sorry. I thought you’d just be moving shit with your mind. I didn’t realize you could do...that, whatever that was.”

“That was reality manipulation. I didn’t know you were here and I don’t have full control of it, so you got caught up in it. Are you okay? Do you remember it?”

“Yeah, I remember it clear as day. I was still me and I was still in control, it was just...different, I guess.”

“Well, I literally warped your reality, so even if you felt in control, you might not have been.”

“You stopped it, though. I remember when that seemed impossible. You’re getting better.”

“Thanks, I guess.” I awkwardly scratch the back of my neck. “What did you come in here for in the first place?”

“This is gonna sound crazy, but Scott Lang is here. We might have a way to bring everybody back.”

“Wait, what? Holy shit. It’s happening. Okay, come on then!” I eagerly walk past her, grabbing her hand as I pass her, and we leave my training room. I realize that I’m still holding her hand as we make it to the meeting room, and I immediately drop it, clearing my throat. If I wasn’t so familiar with the sensation, then I would swear that my ears and cheeks are on fire.

<//>

We all step onto the platform in matching white and red time-travel suits. “We’re really doing this?”

“Hell yeah, we’re doing this,” Clint answers.

“Alright, then. We bring everybody back,” I say with determination. “Whatever it takes,” Steve adds.

“See you in a minute,” Natasha adds with a smirk. Before I can appreciate how beautiful she looks with the glimmer of hope in her eyes, we’re flying through a flurry of colors. Nebula, Natasha, Rhodey, Clint, and I land on Morag. We all say our respective goodbyes before Nat, Clint, and I get on a jet to head to Vormir.

<//>

“A soul for a soul.”

“What? That’s insane. Look, no offense, Mr. Bloody Tampon, but why should we just trust what you’re saying? Because you know their fathers’ names?”

“I didn’t.” I looked into Natasha’s eyes as she spoke and I instantly wish that I could replace the dull sadness with the bright hope that had filled them before.

“He doesn’t know my father’s name. If he’s some mystical being, then why can’t he tell me that?” I turned to face him as I asked the question.

“I’m afraid you are a mystery. I am meant to know everything about any being who seeks the stone, but I know nothing of your identity.”

“Hm. Seems like a load of bullshit to me,” I deadpanned.

“We need to do this. We need to bring everyone back. I’ve spent the past five years trying to reverse the snap, and now I finally know how to fix it. Let me do it.” As Natasha spoke, she grabbed both of my hands in hers.

“And I’ve spent every day for the past five years training to do this. I wasn’t just practicing sorcery and talking to dead people for fun, Nat. All I wanted was to do better一 to fix this. If anyone is jumping off that cliff, it’s gonna be me.”

“No. Absolutely not. Neither of you is dying for that stone. I’ve done horrible things these past few years. I’ve killed...so many people. It should be me,” Clint says, and Natasha and I turn to face him, but one of her hands remains in mine.

“No way in hell, Clint. And not you either, Nat. Both of you guys have families. You’re not sacrificing yourselves. I won’t let you. And you can’t stop me even if you try.” Nat gives me a questioning look as I mention her family and I speak in her head ‘I know about them, Nat. And they need you. She needs her big sister.’

“What are you saying?” I can hear the anxiety lacing Nat’s words, and it causes a pit to form in my stomach.

“I think you know what I’m saying, Natty.” 

“Then you don’t leave me much of a choice.” She shoots a Widow’s Bite toward me, but I stop it using energy manipulation without even having to lift a finger.

“You can’t beat me, Nat. Please, don’t fight me on this.”

“I call bullshit.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Clint running toward the edge while we’re distracted, and I teleport in front of him, throwing him backward. I use mind control to force him to stay down. I sense Natasha running toward the edge behind me, and I teleport in front of her. I use energy manipulation to keep her in place, and I grab onto her biceps.

“I’m really sorry, Nat. I hate that I’m doing this to you, but I can’t let you throw yourself off a cliff for some stupid stone. Your life is worth so much more than that. You’re an amazing person, and your ledger was cleared of its red so long ago. Don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

“This is sounding an awful lot like a goodbye.”

“You can be sarcastic all you want, but I’m not walking out of this one, Natty.”

“Don’t do this. The team needs you.”

“No, they don’t, Nat, and we both know it. They need you.”

“And what if I need you?!”

“Well if that’s the case, you’ll figure it out, just like you always do. Don’t let something like this hold you back. Goodbye, Natasha Romanoff.” I kiss her cheek before turning around. I start walking towards the edge, but it quickly turns into a sprinting pace as I hear Nat screaming for me to stop. Just before I reach the edge, I lift the mind control from Clint and I release Nat, just in case it doesn’t automatically lift when I die. I push myself off the cliff, turning mid-jump so I’m not facing the ground. As I’m falling through the air, I see Clint holding Nat in his arms as her screams fill my ears. I hit the ground and everything goes black.

<//>

“Hello, y/n. It’s good to see you again.” I sat up and一 what the hell is that smell? “Ah, yes. That would be burning flesh. Welcome to Hell, darling.”

“Uh...what? Who are you?”

“Yes, I suppose I should explain, hm? I am Hecate, Goddess of一”

“Yeah, I know what you’re the goddess of. How did I get here?”

“I thought you were smarter than this. You died, obviously.”

“And went to Hell? Damn.”

“Oh, relax. Hell isn’t what the mortals think it is. This is the Underworld. All of the dead reside here. The bad people get punished, the good people don’t. Simple as that. We don’t have a lot of time, so I need to explain. I am cursed; I cannot leave the Underworld. However, my human embodiment can, and that is where you come into play. You hold all my power, and I can see you’ve been practicing, but you’ve never lived up to your full potential.”

“Hey! Rude!”

“Don’t interrupt. I didn’t allow you to live up to your full potential, not until we met, anyway.”

“And I had to die in order for that to happen?”

“Yes. I’m giving you all of my power, but I can still stop you if I ever need to. I know you don’t want to risk hurting the people you love, especially the redhead, but you need to trust yourself. Trust your powers. Have a little faith. You are a goddess, remember. Don’t let people forget it. That purple thumb is nothing compared to you, even with his colorful rocks. Your family needs you now. You must help them.”

“That’s it? Why do they need help? How will I know what to do?”

“I will always be there to help you, Y/N. You can handle this. This is nothing. You are part of me, just as I am part of you. You are my daughter, after all. I should know your capabilities better than anyone.”

“Wait, daughter?!”

“Oh, did I forget to mention that part? Oh well, it doesn’t matter right now, anyway. You need to go.”

“Go where?”

“Home, darling.” 

The earth above us cracks open and I can hear faint sounds of fighting on the surface. I look at Hecate as she nods. Before I even realize I’m doing it, black mist surrounds my body and lifts me through the crack. I step out of the mist onto the ground and a staff appears in my right hand. I tap it once on the ground and my white suit is replaced by an all-black leather outfit that’s definitely made for a goddess. I smirk and make eye contact with the titan across the battlefield. His sickly creatures race toward me as they notice the new threat on the field. I summon an army of ghouls from the cracks in the earth. As the aliens and the undead clash, I teleport in front of Thanos.

“And who might you be, dear?” He acts confident, but I can sense his fear.

“I am Y/N, daughter of Hecate.” He tilts his head in a questioning manner. “Oh, did someone not study mythology? Hm, then let’s be blunt, shall we? I’m a goddess, ass-chin.” I throw my staff at his throat, but he catches it. He moves to swing his large sword at me, but I capture his arm in black mist. When he tries to move the other arm, I restrain that one, as well. “Well, that surely can’t be all you’ve got, hm? Pity, I thought it’d be more exciting than that.” If I were to look in a mirror at that moment, I would’ve noticed my ghostly pale skin, black eyes, and the raw power spreading through my veins like a black road-map.

“It’s not over yet, my dear child.” Before I can question the meaning of his words, an alien tosses him the gauntlet. It slides on his exposed hand, but I hold it open with dark magic. I look around and notice that the army of the undead is nowhere to be seen. My teammates are pinned down, even with the help of those who were snapped. There is a feeling in my gut and a voice in my head that tells me what I must do. I pull the gauntlet off his hand with black mist and slide my hand inside. I feel the power surging into my body. “What are you doing? That power will kill you!” Thanos sounds truly desperate.

“That’s cute. Truly, it is, but you can’t kill someone who’s already dead.” I close my hand and snap my fingers. His army fades to dust and he slumps to the ground before floating away with them. I drop the gauntlet to the ground and look around. Natasha runs toward me and throws her arms around my neck in a firm hug.

“Wha一what happened to you? How are you here? I thought you died!”

I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder before saying, “I did die. I am dead.”

She pulls away and looks at me from head to toe. “Well that explains why you’re so damn pale, but now I have so many more questions.”

“I am Hecate’s daughter, so I am technically a goddess, like her. I’m not sure if I was technically resurrected or not, but I can probably一”

She cut me off with a gentle yet passionate kiss. She pulls away and searches my eyes. “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time,” she admits.

“Me too,” I breathe out.

“Yeah, I picked up on that. You’re not very discrete.” I laughed and a smirk spread across her face. “As sexy as this whole ‘powerful goddess’ thing is, am I going to get the old you back? You know, the one who blushes whenever I look at her? The one who’s, like, alive?”

I smile at her and glance down at her lips as a thick black mist appears behind me. I step backward into it as her face morphs into a look of confusion. She disappears from sight as a wall of black fills my vision, and a surge of power spreads throughout my body. I fall to my knees and the black cloud disappears. Natasha rushes over and kneels in front of me. “Are you okay? What the hell was that?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but I think I’m alive again.” I lift my head and meet her eyes.

“Your skin isn’t crazy pale anymore, and your eyes are their normal color again.”

“Sweet.”

“Cool.”

We both crack up and I lean my forehead against hers as our laughter fades.

Tony interrupts our moment of peace. “This is all good and dandy, but does someone wanna explain what the hell just happened?”

I raise my head and look at my teammates一 my family. “I kicked the purple thumb’s ass. That’s what happened.” I can feel a warm presence in my heart, and I know that my mother is with me.

“Yes, yes, I noticed. I also noticed a bunch of demons. Care to explain that one?”

“They weren’t demons...they were just...the souls...of dead people. I can summon the dead. You knew that.”

“Uh, I definitely didn’t know that.” I laugh and shake my head at the eccentric man. 

I stand up, pulling Natasha with me, and bring her into another embrace. “I’m really glad you’re okay, Natty,” I whisper in her ear before pressing a delicate kiss to her temple.

A/N: I literally had this completely finished and edited over a month ago and I hadn’t posted it yet soooooo... idk here it is

[wandsandwheezes]

Fake It | Weasley Twins | CH8

one // two // three // four // five // six // seven

Warnings | 2.3k // 18+ SMUT (in other chapters), mature themes, fake relationships, secret relationships, love, sex, drama, angst, fluff, character death, murder???, unforgivable curses. Happy? ending

Summary // Fred Weasley has been set up to publicly date Y/N, London’s best Quidditch Seeker in order to drum up some publicity. Y/N however has a different ginger man on her mind; George Weasley.

A/N // well well well, we have come to a close. Writing this has been the best release for all of my feelings!! this really has been amazing and the support I've had has been unreal! a massive thank you goes out to every reader who made it possible and motivated me to get out! my special thanks goes out to the rose of my life @starlightweasley​ - possibly fake it’s biggest fan and the girl who has supported all of my breakdowns through this fic! This however isn’t a goodbye, just a see you later because I have a big announcement coming alongside the epilogue <33

‘I saw you and Fred just now.’

The words echoed through your head, trying to gauge what George could have possibly meant by his words. Fred must know, he must have some inclination as to what had set George over the edge so quickly. You were confused, George had refused to tell you what he saw. You knew that you hadn’t slept with Fred, hell you’d hardly spoken more than a few words to each other in at least a week. But now, you were walking up the concrete steps to the first floor flat, tapping softly on the pale yellow door. It swung open slowly, the whine of the hinges echoing through the stone stairwell, you were greeted by the tall, dishevelled man, he didn’t speak, choosing only to stare back at you blankly. 

“Look Fred I don’t know what the fuck is going on with George, he says he saw us together but I was at practice and-” He still stared back at you with absolutely nothing behind his eyes. Normally Fred would’ve at least looked away or cracked a smile or something, but a deadpan look washed over his face, his eyes burning into the back of yours with a stare so intense you felt like he was medusa and you were turning to stone. 

It was only then that you noticed a perfectly manicured hand snake over Fred’s shoulder to his chest, the nails were a long, glossy red to match the name of the person whose hand it was. Cherry’s face came into view as her chin rested on the opposite shoulder of the man in front of her. Red lip gloss leaves its mark on Fred’s skin as she presses a sensual kiss to his ear as her sinister breath fans over his neck. “Come, Freddie, let her in so that the girls can talk, hm?”

Fred simply nods, moving to the side to allow you in, shutting the door behind you before walking over to the corner and just standing there. Your eyes following him as his expression still runs blank, like he was a shell of a human. “What have you done to him, Cherry.”

She laughs, smirk hanging off her lips, every word breath and sound that breached her mouth was dripping with malice and hatred. "Don't you worry your pretty head about that, he wanted this just as much as I do."

You cocked your head to the side, watching as Cherry pulls out her wand, you go to do the same but she quickly disarms you, leaving you helpless, vulnerable and open. Confusion washed over you more than anything. What could possibly be going so wrong that she needed to take it out on you, on Fred even. "You know, Y/N, Polyjuice potion is a fantastic thing, I just wish i could've seen George's face as he caught his twin brother fucking his girl right in front of him."

You finally understood. It wasn't you George had seen earlier tonight, It was Cherry. You finally got why George called you all of those horrible words, why he kicked you out, why he was so furious. Because you felt exactly the same, anger bubbling over like hot iron, the blood and rage reaching your eyes as you lurched forward. "You fucking bitch, I can't believe you'd do tha-" 

Your airways closed, you couldn't talk, nor breathe as you clutched at your neck, dropping to your knees as you felt what air you had in your lungs leave. Cherry released the magical grasp she had on you, causing you to exhale a deep breath, trying desperately to fill your lungs again, completely doubled over as the terrible pain crippled your lungs. Cherry's hand grasped roughly onto your hair, forcing you to look up at her, as she squatted down in front of you. "Cat got your tongue?" 

"Why…" you pleaded, looking up at her desperately as she pointed her wand at your throat, you wished Fred would intervene, stop her from what she was doing or at the very least speak up. "Why me? What do you hate so much about George and I being together?" 

"It's not about your stupid fucking boyfriend," the wood pressed against your throat a ittle harder as she got angrier, taking a deep breath. "You're a Murderer."

With the same breath you were protesting the ghastly accusation. You wouldn't hurt a fly, your anger reserved only for the quidditch pitch and when George had been particularly frustrating, but never in your life would you have thought about killing someone. "What are you talking about I haven't killed anyo-"

She cut you off with a sharp slap across the face. Sneering at you as she spat back her response, you looked deep into her eyes, clouded with anger and fury. "You are a cold blooded killer, the moment I found out it was YOU who killed my sister, I knew I was going to ruin your life."

"Your sister? I didn't even know you had a sister, please this must be some sort of mistake." You were begging her as you stared at her with pleading eyes before hanging your head in sorrow, causing her to scoff and pull away from you. “You don’t even realise the damage you did to my family when you killed The Bishop.”

Your mind flashed back to the war, a green storm swirling in your head as you’re brought back, watching from the side-lines, a ghost of the future as you watch your body contort in hideous ways and finally hear the spine-stiffening screams for yourself. You replayed the image of Maria Bishop’s body flying through the air and collapsing on the floor in a loud thump over and over again. Shock hitting you again as you realise that you’d taken a life, a life that wasn’t yours to take.

In Cherry’s mind she is taken back to the moment she found her sister’s cold body, splayed out across a pile of broken bricks and rubble, still wearing the expression she had been caught in; mouth open and eyebrows furrowed. Aveline Bishop was the youngest of her bloodline, with a surname destined to die, her mother never able to bear a son to her husband - that destiny loomed over the family of pureblood death eaters, making The Bishop, her sister, all the more of an inspiration to her. So now as the young girl was staring into her sister’s lifeless eyes, no longer shining a bright blue, but instead a cold grey, Aveline knew that she would avenge her sister’s death, no matter the cost. Aveline’s fingertips ghosted gently over her sister’s eyelids to shut them, embodying the new person she set out to become - Cheryl Jackson.

“And now, your family will know the pain that you put mine through.” Cherry had her wand out, the cruciatus curse falling from her lips with such ease and you felt that same surge of pain again. Like a thousand knives against your skin, twisting and turning. Her laugh rang the same as her sister’s, enjoying the look of pure torture etched upon your face. With every tear that spilled from your cheeks the pain grew harsher, you found yourself calling out for someone, anyone to help, realising that your pleading turned to Fred’s name, as it was grated through screams.

“He won’t help you. He’s going to watch the girl he loves die in front of him.” Fred heard it all, every blood curdling scream and every sob. He was internally yelling as he tried to force his legs to move, to help you, to be there for you and stop the tears from falling. Every minute that passed by you grew weaker, the screams turning to low sobs as you felt yourself fall in and out of consciousness. You thought that maybe death would come as the sweet release from your pain. “Freddie, if you can hear me in there, You tell George forever, you tell him I love him with all my heart, I’m sorry I brought you both into this.” 

Fred slowly felt his fingertips start to move, from him willing them to be moved. His love for you was breaking him free of the curse veiled over him. His fingertips were finally able to reach for his wand, using every ounce of strength within him to push himself to save you. He couldn’t just stand by and watch you die, not without giving it every fibre of strength he had inside him. It was like eerie silence to Fred’s ears as he blanked out the words he didn’t want to use but words he would use to protect anyone he loved. A brilliant flash of green left his wand as he aimed it right at Cherry’s back, the power of his spell obliterated the woman he once knew into dust, leaving you to collapse to the floor. 

In that moment, all panic washed over Fred, he was too late, too late to save you. He was scooping your body into his arms, as tears pricked the back of his eyes, threatening to spill from his eyes. He didn’t check to see your small shallow breaths, taking your lifeless body as the only sign, a sign that he hadn’t done enough. He took you to the only place he could think of, apperating in with a pop, before yelling through choked back sobs. “GEORGE!”

George runs In to see you being carried by Fred, your body limp and your arm hanging down. Thinking the worst already, he scoops you into his arms, but as he moves you he notices the soft rise and fall of your chest and realises that you are alive - you may be weak, unconscious and in pain, but you’re alive.

Fred had sunk down to curl his legs up to his chest, making himself as small as possible as he realised that what he had done was utterly unforgivable. George looks at him and sees the same shell of who you had been after the war attempting to piece together what had happened. George no longer cared about his feelings or what he had seen earlier that day. He saw the unconscious body of the girl he loved and his twin sat on the floor shaking. He walked over to sit next to his brother, back pressed against the wall. “Freddie what happened?”

Fred looked up, seeing the pleading eyes of his brother. He took a moment to compose himself, using what small voice he could to try and choke out his words. “Cherry- I she used Polyjuice to pretend to be Y/N and when she showed up at my house, she brought her in, she… was torturing Y/N and she had me under imperious… I tried to save her, Georgie, I really did.” George’s eyebrow’s furrowed, as his brother took another deep breath. “I killed Cherry, trying to save Y/N, and I was too late.” 

George pulled Fred into a hug. It was something that they hadn’t done, not in years, not like this. Not a hug that really mattered, that comforted each other. Fred immediately burst into tears again, the salty, wet tears soaking through George’s shirt, feeling vulnerable and numb in that moment. “She’s okay, Freddie, You did save her.”

You take a sharp breath as you wake up, finding it hard to breathe, like you’d been hit with a bludger to the chest. The sound causes the boys to snap their heads to the direction of the sofa. Your weak voice calls out for George and he is immediately by your side, pressing a gentle kiss and soothing your hand as he takes it into his. Whispering a thousand apologies to you as he presses kisses to your palm and back of your hand.

He sees that same fear behind your eyes that he had helped you heal once before and by the grace of god, he wouldn’t dare leave your side until he had seen you heal again. Watching as the fragile heart of the girl he loved whispered softly, pressing your fingers against his cheek “‘I love you, Forever, Georgie.”

“I’ll never let you down again. I promised to protect you and I couldn't even do that.” he hung his head in shame, you tilted his chin up to look into his eyes, while you shook your head at him. The small smile that clung to your lips through the pain and the fear was for him, to show him that it didn’t matter. George being with you in that moment was enough for you, because there was nothing to hide anymore. 

“Your love is enough for me, George.”  his heart leapt at those words, watching as you pushed yourself up tentatively before slipping down onto the floor, your arms wrapped around him, begging to be held. The desire to be near him in that moment was satisfied when his hand stroked up and down your back, rubbing small circles. You pushed yourself up so that his lips could press softly against his, the kiss was like magic, with the ability to take you away from the pain, take you from the moment of sadness. He was your forever, for everyone to see. You no longer had to fake it. 

/// TO BE CONTINUED ///

taglist //  @starlightweasley​ @slytherinsunrise​ @gcdric​ @theweasleysredhair​ @whiz-bangs78​ @weasleysflowr​ @vogueweasley​ @minty-malfoy​ @vivianweasley​ @feetoffthetablee​ @thisismynerdyself​ @rip-us​ @witch-and-a-half​ @sarcasticallywitty15​ @pandaxnienke​ @loony-loopy-lupinn​ @pigwidgexn​ @mackaywhore​ @softlyqoos​ @colorfulprofessornickelangel​ @fandomscombine​ @satellitespidey​ @txtdreamss​ @aaannabbanana​​  @starkidpotty​ @mollydarling-hphm​ @amwithers2001​ @mrmoonyy​​ @asthmax​

[mothernatureknows]

secondchvnces​:

@mothernatureknows

40...39...38...37...36...

eve watches the crosswalk counter opposite her count down, the red numbers blinking too slow and yet too fast for her liking. she’s tapping her heel against the concrete, releasing a sigh. 

this has been a long time coming, and the result of a lot of thinking on eve’s part. normally, she’s super dead set on her opinions, way too stubborn to think any differently about something. moreover, eve has a penchant of holding long-term grudges with anyone who dares to piss her off. 

hence, why it took her so damn long to muster the courage to face noah. 

30...29...28...27...26...

after jude’s birth, eve’s resentment only grew for noah, his complete disappearance frustrating her to no end. the way that bastard could just leave her with their child and not bother to even leave any form of goodbye? it ABSOLUTELY enraged her. so much so, that eve, instead of letting that anger and bitterness drag her down, allowed these feelings to strengthen her resolve and push her to do all in her power to raise jude and continue being successful. 

which is why, when he suddenly reappeared, literally outta nowhere, it completely messed up her rhythm! eve felt like she was re-submerged back into the volcanic shithole that were her feelings. all of a sudden, her anger—that she’d tried so hard to keep at bay and use as motivational fuel—was spilling over and hellbent on striking at him whenever he was close. 

even then, underneath all that boiling rage, a familiar ache resurfaced that put another damper on eve’s mood: loneliness. in her postpartum journey, she’d gone about almost everything by herself, with only a little help from maddy (albeit, her little sister had her own problems to take care of, but whatever). eve hardly had time to even consider loneliness or any sort of romantic love, it ranked at the absolute bottom of her list.

but, with noah coming back, that just changed.

20...19...18...17...16...15...

eve kinda hates herself for being so ambivalent with noah, practically seeming unhinged to the common lay person. after his recent efforts, what with really caring for jude and oddly helping maddy and daesuk rekindle their relationship, she owes it to him to make up her fucking mind and stop being such an asshole. 

which brings her to the present moment, waiting for the crosswalk to flash green so she can actually talk to him. 

3...2...1...WALK!

heels clack hurriedly in the direction of noah’s apartment, soon spotting the very person eve wanted to speak to. she gulps then, before approaching him and clearing her throat. 

“at maddy and dae’s. needed some time for myself,” eve answers slowly, hesitating before coming up the stairs to sit next to him. the proximity doesn’t help her with what she intends to say, it’s actually making her even more nervous. which is stupid, since she hardly gets nervous, but still, her heart’s racing too much for her liking. 

she takes the whiskey bottle from him and gulps down some of the burning liquid, the relief of alcohol settling some of her nerves. putting it down, she turns to face noah, hands grasping the steps. “i think i owe you an apology,” she admits. “i...haven’t been fair to you ever since you came back. ‘ve been a bitch, to be honest, and that’s not good for us or jude. i just...” she takes a beat, eyes glancing at the whiskey bottle again. 

no, focus, eve, you can get through this, dammit. 

“i felt a lot of things when i saw you again, and i didn’t know what to do. so, i just picked the strongest of them...which was resentment,” she says. “i shouldn’t have and i’m sorry i did, noah. i just couldn’t stop thinking of when you left.”

she takes a deep breath then. “but, you’re here now, and i’m glad you are, especially for jude. so...do you think you’d be able to forgive me and maybe...start over?”

@mothernatureknows

noah sits on the front steps of his apartment building, looking out into the busy streets. there's a bottle of whiskey by his left foot and a cigarette in his right hand. the demon soaks in the sunshine, long hair pulled back into a ponytail. beads of sweat cover his forehead, and he wipes it off with the back of his wrist before popping his cigarette into his mouth. he uses his thumb to light the end, sucking in the nicotine before blowing out a thick cloud of smoke.

calm, warm days like these makes him miss eve. they should be sitting side by side sharing a cold drink, laying in each other's arms and laughing about God-knows-what. but instead, he spends his days alone, quiet and lonely. in recent months, he's picked up more shifts at nihilus' diner, not only to make more money to support eve and judas, but to also keep his mind busy. spending his days alone was never ideal, especially not in the way he usually does; drinking and sulking over a dead relationship.

it's been over a year since noah reconnected with eve, and yet it still feels like she does everything in her power to push him away. he's tried his hardest to return to her good graces, but with no luck. he even helped with improving daesuk's situation to help maddy, hoping that eve would notice he still cares. but nothing he's done in the past year has seemed to make a difference, and the disappointment of constant rejection has started to weigh heavily on his heart.

he lets out his cigarette to take a swig from his whiskey bottle, leaning back against the steps and sighs. he could be working right now, but it's his only day off and his body has grown exhausted from lack of rest. he stares up into the clouds, drifting off into another land for a moment before he hears someone clear their throat.

he sits up, looking down the steps to see a familiar, and much wanted face at the base of the stairs looking up at him. he smiles. "where's judas?" he asks curiously. the only time eve has shown up was to drop the baby off for babysitting. but today she's shown up with no child. he moves over on the step and pats next to him to signal her to sit down.

[wonda-cat]

You mentioned rewriting that one analysis post on Tommy’s revival stream and I’d really look forward to it! I never got to read the full og post and that’s the only place I saw these takes. Especially the one about the afterlife being too depressing. It’s not even just about Tommy, the implication that even if every character is safe and happy by the end, this is their inevitable fate is messed up. It’s not “a neat subversion” it’s just depressing and doesn’t add anything.

Hey, anon!

I sorta decided to not rewrite it? I feel a bit differently about the essay in the end, although I still believe in most of my points. I’m also just not nearly as passionate about it as I was when I wrote it (I finished it in a single sitting, which was... interesting.) However, yes, the afterlife stuff still bothers me just the same, as well as the odd changes to Wilbur’s characterization... post mortem.

But—just for you, anon—here’s the entire meta-analysis essay anyway, with some minor edits to the stuff I don’t agree with anymore!

My Many Narrative Issues with Tommyinnit’s Revival Stream

I want to preface this by saying that I dearly love the Dream SMP and understand it isn’t exactly comparable to other mediums like TV and film. With this being the case, most criticism against it is generally in bad faith or strange in foundation. Complaining about streamers for bad acting is the best example that comes to mind. 

These aren’t professional actors. Most have never acted in this sort of setting, or even at all. Quite a few have admitted to never roleplaying before. Which is why it’s warranted to praise Tommy, Dream, Wilbur, Ranboo, and others when they deliver stellar performances. The same applies to criticism of music choice, dialogue delivery, focus, tone, etc. 

However, one such category I cannot overlook is in regards to its writing. The writing of a story is its entire foundation. It encompasses many things—conflict choice, character development, themes, and morals. The author creates the blueprints for the architect, who then expresses the story with light, sound, color, pacing, and music. It is in its execution that we see if this connection is made or broken. 

The reason I find poor writing mostly inexcusable is because it is one of the most available skills to practice and perfect. I don’t mean to say that it’s easy, I mean to say it is something anyone can attempt to cultivate. Whether they do it well or not depends on their methods and experience. If anyone can self-publish a novel and be criticized online for its quality—and even compared to the works of Mark Twain—then I find critiquing the writing of the Dream SMP to be perfectly reasonable. 

However, since the Dream SMP script is a set of loose bullet points, tearing apart dialogue and scene continuity—which is nearly all improv—is rather useless. It doesn’t exactly have a clear focus as the plot plays out. The characters talk in circles until they hit the story beat required, and then they move onto the next. Thus, when criticizing it, one should generally critique grand events and narrative-specific shifts, more so than small-scale character interactions. 

Which brings me to my main point: The broad narrative choices taken in Tommyinnit’s most recent livestream, ‘Am I dead?’ may lead to disastrous writing pitfalls in the future. 

I’ll be outlining each of my issues below, in hopes of creating a better understanding as to why I feel this way. 

This might become quite lengthy, so please bear with me for a bit.

Tommy’s relationship to Wilbur has flipped. This change is jarring and seems out of character.

Tommy and Wilbur’s friendship is rather complicated. While Wilbur does care for Tommy immensely, especially during the L’Manburg Revolution and the Election Arc, his mental spiral during exile put a massive strain on their relationship as a whole. Wilbur brushed off Tommy’s feelings and wants, while clinging to him and pushing everyone else away. He was simultaneously distant and suffocating. 

Tommy, on the other hand, has an unclear view of his mentor. Since the beginning, and even long after Wilbur’s death, Tommy held him in especially high regard. He saw him as a brother-figure and a wise leader. He followed what he said and did everything he could to impress him. Yet, Wilbur still hurt him while the two were together in exile. 

When speaking of him, Tommy tends to flip infrequently between remembering Wilbur the way he was before his mental decline and thinking of him as a monster. Both of these images conflict with each other, but they weren’t nearly as extreme as what Tommy described Wilbur as when he was revived from death. The fear Tommy displays to Wilbur is beyond intense—it feels as if the audience may have missed a month’s worth of character development. 

This can make sense, especially since it was stated that he’d spent what felt like two months in the void. However, this shift is still deeply at odds with Tommy’s previous impressions of Wilbur, which is both disheartening and confusing. The fact that Tommy would agree to stay with Dream—his abuser and murderer—over his past mentor is simply head-reeling. It paints a very different picture of Wilbur’s character, somewhat conforming to the fandom’s ableist impression of him—the idea that Wilbur is insane and irredeemable, and always will be. 

It also ignores Dream being the driving factor in Wilbur’s downfall, as well as the double-bind deal with Dream which required him to push the button, no matter the outcome. Others have pointed out that Tommy may be lying to get Dream to bring Wilbur back, and there’s compelling evidence for that. For one, Tommy and Wilbur’s conversation seemed uncomfortable, but it was certainly nothing like Tommy implied. (Unless this fear comes from something Wilbur said off-screen.) 

Tommy also begged Dream to not bring him back multiple times over, which he should know would make Dream even more tempted to, simply because he likes seeing Tommy in pain. Tommy is also a known unreliable narrator. He may be making Wilbur out to be worse than he is by accident (even still, I’d argue this is a bit of a stretch.) 

However, there are some issues with this theory. Tommy offered himself as payment to Dream if he chose to let Wilbur rest. This is a deal Tommy knows Dream is extremely unlikely to refuse. Tommy is what Dream has coveted all this time. If Tommy genuinely wanted Wilbur back, he would not offer this. This sort of compromise is Tommy’s greatest nightmare—something he would only do in response to his friends being threatened or his home being destroyed. 

To add, Tommy is not great at lying. Unless he was taught by Wilbur for those two months* in the afterlife, there’s no chance Tommy would be this good at it. Thirdly, Tommy is terrible under pressure. He uses humor to cope. When he can’t, he cries and shouts and spills his heart out. While cornered, Tommy will tell the truth about anything, especially if Dream casually debates killing him again, just for fun. 

For now, it’s too early to tell how the relationship shift will play out. In the grand scheme of things, this issue is rather minor.

Season three’s writing is needlessly bleak. The portrayal of the afterlife is a nightmare. There is no rest, not even in death.

I adore the Dream SMP storyline in its entirety. I believe the first season is fantastic, and while the second season has some narrative clarity issues, I enjoyed it just as much. Although, I would argue season one had a more concrete understanding of its Hope-Conflict balance. 

To briefly explain, the Hope in stories are its ‘highs’ and good moments. These appear when a character the audience is rooting for is narratively rewarded. They happen during character building in the text—it’s the downtime and peace that allows for connection and relatability. It’s a moment for the viewer to breathe easy. 

The other half is Conflict, an obstacle in the story that gets in the way of the main characters’ goals, beliefs, and motives. These are the ‘lows.’ They give the narrative focus and weight. They make the highs feel even higher. They establish consequences and force the characters in the story to change in order to adapt and overcome them. 

I bring up the Hope-Conflict balance because a traditional hero’s journey would have an appropriate amount of both. Their highs and lows are generally equalized, as the name suggests. However, this balance has been awkwardly skewed in the latter half of season two and in the current plot of season three. To clarify, it is perfectly reasonable, and even common, for some stories to tip the scale more to one side. 

But a common mistake for amateur writers is to create their stories as either hopelessly dark to cause the audience continuous distress for the sake of distress, or to keep everything entirely conflict-free for most of the plot. What do these both have in common? They each make the story boring and predictable. 

Season three has taken this concept and thrown a monstrously heavy weight onto the Conflict side and flipped the scale so hard it has crashed through the ceiling. The viewers are hardly given time to find any joy in Tommy’s character, as he’s thrown into yet another abusive situation, just barely after his first narrative reward. The world is painted as relentlessly violent and traumatic. 

Every person Tommy meets is morally grey, unhinged, or out to hurt him. Everything most of the characters love is taken from them by those in positions of power. Ranboo cannot even grieve properly because it scars his face. Puffy, Sam, Ranboo, and Tubbo all blame themselves for what happened to Tommy. 

The audience watches lore stream after lore stream with the same depressing tone (with the exception of Tubbo’s, but I assume that’s unintentional.) Tommy is revived after being brutally beaten to death by his abuser, surrounded by all of his greatest fears. The afterlife is revealed to be akin to inescapable torture. It’s a colorless void that wraps the individual like fabric. 

Time moves thirty times slower within. There’s nothing—nothing but the voices of others who’ve passed on before him. Dying in a world already devoid of happiness takes the characters to a place worse than hell. When a narrative delivers unfair suffering to the entire cast without a moment of joy to speak of, the story will feel simultaneously overwhelming and pointless. 

Why watch characters suffer when there’s no light at the end of the tunnel? What happiness could they strive for when we know they’ll never get to keep it? How can I be satisfied with a good ending, if I know that an afterlife too terrible to name is what awaits them, truly, at the end of their story? Death isn’t even a white void that offers rest—it is eternal torment. 

Obviously, it isn’t a good message to send by making the afterlife seem like a quiet, perfect place or an escape from pain. But making it an unspeakable anguish which awaits, assumedly, every character who will die in the future? I deeply hope Tommy was only being an extremely unreliable narrator. 

More likely, I hope the place Tommy was taken to was a Limbo of sorts, not an end-all-be-all destination for everyone.

The degree of Tommy’s narrative punishment continues to escalate, to an almost absurd degree.

Tommy is one of the most tragic characters to exist in the storyline. He was sent into war at a young age and experienced two traumatic events during it. He was exiled by the newly elected leader and witnessed his mentor Wilbur spiral and break down with paranoia. Tubbo is executed publicly in front of him. When expressing rightful anger at the person who murdered him, he’s beaten nearly to death and never receives an apology. 

Schlatt dies right in front of Tommy, after his initial refusal to hurt the ex-president. His brother-figure and mentor is killed in assisted suicide on the same day his nation is blown up. His best friend exiles him from his home for the second time. He routinely self-sacrifices to protect his country and those who live there. His most treasured possessions were taken from him and he was called selfish for trying to retrieve them (although his methods were self-destructive and volatile.) 

He was pushed to the brink of suicide after being relentlessly abused and isolated in his exile. He was horrified when he thought he was responsible for drowning Fundy. After making an objectively good decision to stand by his old friends and change for the better, his country was obliterated by the man he once idolized, his father-figure, and his abuser. 

He was left scattered and without purpose for many days. Then he fights against Dream and loses, while also reliving his trauma. He watches Tubbo almost die at the hands of someone he once thought was his friend. He doesn’t tell a single person about what happened to him in exile. The day he tries to sever his connection to Dream and heal, he’s trapped with him for a week, surrounded by everything that terrifies him. 

He threatens to kill himself, speaking about his own life as if it were an object—something to hold over Dream’s head. He blames himself for everything bad that’s ever happened to L’Manburg and his friends—internalizing a mentality as a scapegoat for everyone around him. He is forced into the role of ‘hero’ despite the title being unfair and distressing to him.

As if that weren’t enough, he’s then beaten to death by his abuser and spends what feels like two months in an afterlife that is worse than hell. When he returns, his senses are excessively heightened. Dream can cause him excruciating pain, just by pinching him. He can send Tommy into an instant panic attack, just by raising his voice. 

The punishment Tommy’s character receives is a thousand times worse than everyone he has ever met, or ever will meet. And it shows no signs of stopping, as Dream now has control over Tommy’s very mortality. Tommy now fears the slightest damage and feels as if he’s losing his best friend all over again. He is also forced into a position where he has to kill Dream out of necessity, to protect everyone he cares about.

Characters need fitting punishments in relation to their actions. Not always, but in order to be satisfying? Yes, they do. It is preferred that a main character deal with unfair situations and difficult conflicts, but this is borderline torture p*rn. Putting Tommy in these distressing and abusive situations on repeat and punishing him for doing objectively moral or healthy things is exhausting to watch. 

To quickly add, I find the general insinuation of Tommy going to hell distasteful, especially considering the contents of his storyline. I know this may be hard to believe, but Tommy is one of the most moral characters in the plot, besides Puffy and Ghostbur. He’s also the only character, followed by Ranboo, to recognize that they can be wrong and make mistakes. He changed himself in order to heal and be a better person. He was in the process of paying people back for the things he’d stolen. 

He’s learned to be hard-working and less violent through the guidance of Sam. He has apologized to everyone he’s ever hurt (with the exception of Jack Manifold, because that man is allergic to communication.) He puts himself in harm's way to protect others. He doesn’t set out to purposely hurt anyone. He goes out of his way to make connections with people and maintain them, even if others don’t reciprocate. 

He’s hopelessly optimistic, despite his outwardly bitter façade. He loved so much and put meaning into the smallest things. The thought that a person like him—a suicide and abuse survivor—would go to hell after being beaten to death by the man who took everything from him; it makes me sick to my stomach. 

The only thing more morbid than Tommy’s afterlife being different than everyone else’s, is the concept that everyone will end up in this same eternal torture, no matter what they do. Take your pick: Tommy is sentenced to anguish until the end of time for no reason, or everyone will receive the same disturbing ending, regardless of their actions.

The narrative weight of Ranboo’s character is potentially out the window.

For the past few months, I’ve watched all of Ranboo’s lore streams faithfully, curious to see what role he would play in the future. His ‘hallucinations’ of Dream seemed to be sowing the seeds for a plot that has Ranboo taking the fall for every single insidious thing Dream has done. It would also be a tragic parallel to Tommy’s trial. 

Ranboo being convinced he was the one who blew up the community house, when Dream himself admitted to doing it, was one of the bigger indicators for me. This is just one of many other unexplained occurrences. Dream seemed to be making an effort to trigger and control Ranboo, especially after Sapnap’s prison visit. It appeared, from the way he went about this, that Dream had some grand use for Ranboo as part of his plan to be freed from Pandora’s Vault. 

However, after Tommy’s stream, the way Dream explains himself makes it seem like there was no plan besides seeing if the book worked on people. And if he didn’t after all, then what was Ranboo for? Was Ranboo unimportant? Was Ranboo just some weirdo who happened to phase out when seeing smiley faces and imagined conversations that may or may not have happened? 

I bring this up more as a worry, and much less so as an active problem in the narrative. They haven’t actually thrown Ranboo to the way-side or written themselves into a corner yet. In future streams, this could very easily be explained away or developed as more information is revealed. 

Only time will tell.

The potential for Wilbur’s future development and importance to the plot is unfeasible.

I feel as if I am the only person on earth who doesn’t want Wilbur Soot or Schlatt revived. There are many reasons for this, but one of them is not a dislike for these characters. I especially adore Wilbur, as he’s one of my all-time favorites. I don’t want either of them resurrected because their stories have already been told. They each had a fitting conclusion that ended their involvement perfectly. 

Bringing Wilbur back would especially cheapen the impact of the War of the 16th. It’s the end of a man who was brought to the absolute edge and out of desperation, shame, and self-hatred, he destroyed himself alongside his creation. Bringing him back would leave the climax of the previous story hollow. My biggest issue, however, is that a lack of story importance would likely follow his return. 

The only real impact I’d like to see is through a healing arc with Tommy, an apology to Fundy, or a confrontation with Phil/Niki. But that’s really all the potential I can realistically see. While I don’t doubt Wilbur as an agent of chaos, able to create plot out of thin air; what is he going to do now? His country is gone, his friends and family are scattered about, and his mission from the 16th is already accomplished. 

What is a well-educated, charismatic politician supposed to do in a world already broken and without nations? Read poetry to himself and cry evilly? However, this is working off the assumption that Wilbur would be returning as his old self. 

If Wilbur is resurrected as a ‘villain’ of sorts, then what? He’s not good at fighting in the slightest. He would have no materials. There are no real allies he can make, other than the arctic group. On top of that, there are already more than enough villains to last a lifetime. 

We don’t need any more, I promise. Quackity seems to already be shaping up as another antagonist, alongside Sam’s slip into darker and darker shades of moral ambiguity. We also have Philza and Techno, which are already overkill. But then we have Dream who, despite being in a prison, has the ability of selective revival. This is mercilessly overpowered, especially if he makes many allies. The dude could just bring his dead friends back so they can keep fighting forever. 

Then there’s Jack Manifold and the Crimson followers; Antfrost, Bad, and Punz. That’s not even including characters who are refusing to get involved. How are Tommy, Tubbo, and Puffy expected to do literally anything to fight back?

Dream’s experiment on Tommy implies he had no backup plan to begin with. This makes his character seem both short-sighted and foolish.

When Tommy woke up after being brought back to life, Dream sounded surprised that the revival worked at all. This instantly shatters the perception that Dream was highly intelligent and thought ahead. With just a few lines of dialogue, it’s implied that Dream killed Tommy, unsure of if the resurrection would even be possible on humans. 

Which, to risk something that important, seems unbelievably stupid. Dream needs Tommy, from his perspective. Tommy is his ‘toy,’ the one who makes everything fun. If he lost him and couldn’t get him back, what then? Oh well, everything Dream was doing was all for nothing, I guess. 

Why not attempt this experiment on literally anyone else first? Like Sapnap or Bad or, hell, even Ranboo. I suppose it could be that, as soon as Dream got the book, he experimented with it after the 16th. This appears to be insinuated with Friend and Hendry’s revival, although this is uncertain. But even then, he was still unsure of the book’s effect on a human being.

Also, this means, hypothetically, Dream’s entire plan of escape hinged on the experiment working, to begin with, and also on bringing back Wilbur if it somehow did. I find this even more ridiculous. Why Wilbur? That man couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag, let alone get through the traps in Pandora’s Vault. Even if he is intelligent after years* in the afterlife, that’s also a strange assumption. 

How do people learn things in the void? Where do they even get this knowledge? I’d honestly argue Techno is a far more competent choice than Wilbur. And even if Dream did bring him back and tell him he owed him his life, what’s to stop Wilbur from just killing him permanently? Or killing himself, continuously? 

No way would Wilbur want to be controlled by anyone, ever. The dude would sooner fuck off into the mountains and become a nomad than help a neon green bodysuit cosplay as Light Yagami.

Dream’s discussion about Sam implies that he wasn't playing any part in Dream’s plan, making Sam appear entirely incompetent and neglectful of Tommy.

Dream talked about Sam in a way that seems detached and unaffiliated. He also mentioned him being broken up about Tommy’s fate and not being aware he’s still alive. Dream not being partnered with, or not using Sam in his plan leaves many plot holes. I’ll go through each one. The initial incident was an explosion, coming from the roof of Pandora’s Vault. This did not affect the Redstone mechanism for the doors or dispensers. 

Meaning, Sam could’ve had Tommy leave the way that was expected for visitors after he investigated and found no issues. This likely couldn’t have been done in less than a day, but it would be better than an entire week. If Tommy was required to stay for longer, due to protocol, he could’ve gotten Tommy out and then placed him in one of the minor cells for the remainder of the time. 

Also, no one else lost a canon life for leaving via the splash potion of harming and returning outside the maximum-security cell; why would Tommy? To add, Sam being uninvolved means that the explosion could have only been caused by Ranboo or Foolish. That, or it was placed long before and timed for the moment Tommy entered the main cell. (I’m going to ignore how ludicrous it is that someone would know the exact time Tommy would’ve entered the room with Dream.) 

If Ranboo was the person behind the detonation, this implies he was necessary for Dream to kill Tommy to test the book. But that makes it even stranger. If this was Dream’s goal all along, why not kill Tommy the instant he was trapped with him? It makes no sense for him to wait so long. 

Sam is also directly at fault for not letting Tommy out, even after the week was up. There was no reason not to. He already knew there were no issues with the prison at that point. Although, to be fair to Sam, his character may have been paranoid and checking everything more than necessary, just in case. But this still isn’t a good excuse for him ignoring protocol in this one instance, and yet, not in any of the others. 

All of these plot holes or inconsistencies would be removed if it was revealed that Dream was blackmailing Sam in some way, or Sam had been working with him since the get-go. That Sam was the person who set off the explosion in the first place to trap Tommy inside. It would also explain Sam’s refusal to let Tommy out and by keeping him in there for longer than necessary. 

This can also coexist with Sam’s attachment and care for Tommy. He probably wasn’t told about Dream’s plan to test the book and genuinely believed Dream wouldn’t hurt him. On top of that, Dream is known to be a pathological liar, so his statements about Ranboo and Sam could be entire fabrications. 

Who knows?

The Book of Revival invalidates death entirely. The narrative now lacks both tension and consequence.

Another way the Dream SMP differs from other storytelling media is in the way it goes about its character deaths. In a TV show, for example, there will be characters who die just because, or when it’s important to the plot. However, it seems as if the Dream SMP is hesitant to commit to killing its characters. And there are many reasons for that. 

The most important one being, killing someone’s character excludes them from the story and some of their livelihoods depend on them regularly streaming on the server. There is also the issue of the cast becoming extremely sparse if characters keep dying. Typically, in stories, when you kill a character, you should introduce another. 

This keeps the cast from dwindling as the storyline goes on. This means the writers would have to find new streamers to join, who will develop their own characters and relationships with the plot’s continued momentum. This can be stressful and daunting to those who may be newly added in the future. 

Keeping this in mind, the Book of Revival is annoying from a writer’s perspective. When death is no longer an issue for a story hinged on its characters’ mortality, then what do you have as a consequence anymore? We’ve explored every kind under the sun; from abuse, to betrayal, to loss, to destruction. 

In stories, traditionally, death is a finality. It’s a conclusion. Whether it’s good or not depends on the character’s actions, its build-up, and the event’s execution. Without this lingering sense of danger, tension evaporates from the story. 

Why should I care if Tommy loses in a fight to someone, if he’ll just come back a day later? Why should I care about what happened to Wilbur, if he just returns as if nothing happened? The answer is simple: I won’t. I will no longer care if Tubbo or Ranboo or Sam die in the story, because the idea of revival even being a possible outcome leaves me unenthused and uncaring. 

The Dream SMP likes to flirt with death. It teases the demise of its main characters many, many times. More so Tommy’s than anyone else’s. Wilbur’s failed resurrection, which had unforeseen and unfortunate outcomes, is now strange in comparison to Tommy’s, which happened without a hitch. 

To be fair, we actually don’t see how many attempts it took. But here’s the problem; Dream could do it without the book being physically present. He’s trapped in a prison with nothing on him, meaning he doesn’t need any materials either. It’s also implied he could do this as many times as he feels, for anyone he wants. This would be exceedingly overpowered, if not for one thing—Dream himself is mortal (at least, I fucking hope he’s mortal.) 

If someone kills him one last time, that knowledge is gone forever. And I’m glad they’ve established at least some way for Tommy to win. Because at this point, I was losing faith. 

There is also the bare minimum establishment that Dream can refuse to bring back those he doesn’t care for. He can also use it as a shield, holding this power over other people. If Dream is gone, death is permanent. But isn’t that how death is supposed to be, anyway? 

What a bleak premise—the afterlife is pure eternal torture while life is cheapened by a lack of consequences.

Conclusion

All this to say, I am cautiously optimistic for the future. I hope dearly that every single one of these can be disproven or developed in the coming livestreams. Obviously, there’s not enough information to really determine what the end result will be, or how everything will fall into place. 

Every time I have theorized about the story, it has done something completely different and pleasantly surprised me. I want this trend to continue. 

Surprise me again—I’ll be here to see where it goes.

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

(Part 2 of yesterday's snippet!)

Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong. 

Luke had been so sure of himself when he'd entered the chamber. He knew what he had to do, and he knew there was always a chance that he would die in the attempt. But his friends -- no, his family -- were trapped in this facility, and Luke would not let them die.

Yoda didn't understand. He claimed to have watched over Luke all his life. He criticized Luke for looking to the future and not the present. 

If the present is so important, Master, if you can see so far, why didn't you see that Leia's been tortured by Vader before? How can you be willing to let her fall into his hands again?

No. Luke would never let that happen. His friend was more important than his training: he would never choose to let someone die for his own benefit. 

That's not the kind of Jedi I'm going to be.

And so he had chosen to fight.

But there was a problem. 

Darth Vader had chosen not to fight.

The man's presence filled the room like smoke, billowing and curling around them both as though it could cut off every escape route. Maybe it could. Luke was not foolish enough to believe that Vader was vulnerable, just because he refused to draw his sword. The Force was with him, after all. Corrupted, used for selfish purposes, but nevertheless a powerful ally. 

But Vader did not attack.

Again and again he admonished Luke for his aggression. A hint of scolding. A hint of fond exasperation. As if he were a teacher correcting a favored pupil. 

Or a fa-

Luke cut off the thoughts in fury. His enemy was underestimating him. Patronizing the would-be Jedi, so sure of his own superiority. 

This was not a Darth Vader he had seen before. Where was the cold pragmatism? The apathy towards others? Clearly it had been in play when he had harmed Han and Leia and Chewie. 

"I have no specific grievance against those you keep company with."

And that was worse. Infinitely worse. Everything he had done to his friends -- to Leia! -- and he didn't even have any particular issues with them?! If he could torture someone he didn't hate, what would he do to someone he did have a grudge against?

What will he do to me?

Now he walked down the stairs, ignoring Luke's lightsaber, speaking calmly as though he could pretend he hadn't just used sentient beings as bait to draw him here. It didn't work like that! He couldn't just make Luke drop his guard with honeyed words. Every child raised on Tatooine knew the danger of those who spoke sweetly and held a transmitter behind their backs. Luke wasn't going to fall for it and he wasn't shy about saying so.

"The jakreb learns to listen before he runs," his enemy quoted suddenly. He sounded amused.

That was an old saying on Tatooine. A proverb to teach children to watch carefully for signs of danger before making a move. There should have been no reason for Vader to know it.

None whatsoever.

I don't like this. Something is wrong.

Something plucked at his memories. A tickle at the back of his mind, like a spider crawling across his skin. Nothing concrete, but a nameless, formless, something. 

"The dragon who moves too soon is a dragon who starves," Luke shot back, a little rashly.

Another old proverb. Less about wariness and caution and more about patience. 

I know what you're doing, old man. You're the dragon. I'm the jakreb. So which one of us is going to move first?

But Vader kept walking. After all this, after the horrible things he'd done just to get Luke here, he was just...just leaving?! But that didn't make any sense!

“You want me to drop my guard, so you can kill me. Just like you did to Ben!” he accused.

He turned his blade to a more horizontal guard and stepped up to the high ground. 

If Vader was trying to lure him in close enough to run him through, he was going to be disappointed. 

“Luke.” Vader shook his head and continued to descend the staircase. Again his voice was sickeningly compassionate. “Obi-wan allowed himself to be killed. What his motives could have been, I do not know. He told himself and everyone around him such pretty lies that I am no longer certain that even he knew what his motivations were. But I assure you that whatever he did, he did so deliberately.”

The bottom seemed to drop out of Luke's stomach. There was so much anger hiding in those words. Maybe Vader didn't have a vendetta against Luke's friends, but it was very clear that he'd hated Obi-wan. But why?

Ben said that Vader betrayed and murdered his father. He said nothing about Vader betraying him. And he'd given no hint that there might be particularly bad blood between them. Did he just think it wasn't Luke's business?

But Luke knew that Vader was right about one thing: Ben had chosen to die at that particular moment. “To give us time to escape," he said defiantly. Lightsaber at the ready, he cautiously began to descend the stairs after Vader. "So we could destroy your Death Star! Worked out pretty well, Vader.”

“Indeed?” 

Vader glanced back over his shoulder at Luke, then stepped off the edge of the platform. 

What the kriff?!

He was leaving! Why? Was this room a trap? Would he activate one of those machines as soon as he was out?

Oh no way. Not a chance. You don't get to walk away from me, Sithspawn.

Luke scrambled to the edge of the platform in time to see Vader stepping into one of the maintenance tunnels.

“That is a topic for speculation, I believe," the rumbling voice echoed back. Luke definitely caught some sarcasm in his tone. "But for all the times your “Ben” betrayed me, it is fitting that in his final moments he unwittingly revealed you to me. Returning what he stole all those years ago.”

What.

The reverberating breaths faded out, and Luke stood at the edge of the platform. He tried to piece together what he'd just heard logically.

Had Ben stolen something from Vader? If the Sith wanted it, it was probably a good thing Obi-wan had taken it. Whatever it was. Maybe a weapon?

Luke's heart sank as he looked down at the brilliant blue glow of his saber. 

Vader killed his father. He might have felt that Anakin's lightsaber rightfully belonged to him.

What do I do?! This is my lightsaber! My inheritance. It's all I have of my father and I will not let him take that away.

Luke's emotions twisted around each other, bending back over themselves in a discordant jangle of mismatched rhythms as he tried to understand what was happening. The grip of the saber was slick in his hands. 

I'm…

No, no, I can do this.

I'm scared 

I can do this!

He was being torn in two different directions. Every fiber of his being begged him to flee. To not walk into what could very well be a trap. But at the same time, something down that tunnel was calling him. Like a cord wrapped around his heart, steadily pulling him to an unknown destination, he felt the whispers more than he heard them.

I'm scared. 

It's alright to be scared. I'm here.

They weren't words so much as sensations. Faintly brushing against his memory like a butterfly's wing, the whispers seemed to promise that everything would be alright, he just couldn't look back. 

Frightened, but determined, Luke clipped his saber to his belt and eased over the edge of the platform. 

It's okay. I can do this. 

I can win.

Just don't look back. 

The instant Luke stepped into the tunnel, the lights snapped on. He had a feeling that he was walking into a trap. But then, the place he had just left felt like a trap, too. 

Kriff kriff kriff.

Stupid jakreb hopped right into the snare.

There was a control room at the end of the tunnel. 

There was a Sith Lord at the end of the tunnel.

Luke had his lightsaber out almost before he had time to think. 

A grate slid shut over the tunnel mouth behind him, cutting off his retreat.

Well. 

At least he could see in this room.

"Put down your weapon, young one," Vader said again. He did not even turn away from the holographic map to face Luke. 

"Not. Happening." Luke bared his teeth and forced himself to take two steps forward. "You have to answer for what you did, Vader. To my friends, and the galaxy, and the Jedi...and my father."

Quite suddenly, Vader's shoulders fell. He leaned against the projector as if he were bone-weary. 

"Child, I have done nothing to your father."

He still did not turn.

"He is a contemptible, pitiable wretch, too quick to give his loyalty to those who do not deserve it. But he is a powerful wretch. Powerful enough to conceal your existence from the emperor for the last three years."

Luke stumbled back. His father's lightsaber hung by his side uselessly.

Present tense.

Darth Vader was speaking about his father in the present tense.

Anakin Skywalker. 

Present tense.

"You...you're lying."

No please, please don't be lying-

I can't…

Don't toy with me you sleemo

Don't you dare use my father's memory as a ploy-

At last, Vader turned to face him. "I have done what I can, Luke," he said simply. "But now we are out of time."

"I have done what I can"

Something cold and clammy slithered in Luke's gut. It knotted in coils around his spine to sink its teeth into his heart. Against his will, tears sprang to his eyes.

He knew Darth Vader was evil, but this was a cruelty he had not expected. The carefully laid trap, baited with words, and the insinuations eased between sentences, struck deeper than any lightsaber's blow. He played on the memory of Luke's father -- of his loneliness, his lifelong yearning for his father -- and twisted it. Perverted it into an attempt at manipulation so blatant it could hardly be believed.

Did he believe it was an attempt at manipulation?

What if it was worse? What if Vader actually believed what he seemed to be implying? Pointing out how illogical it was could quickly become dangerous. But Luke was past the point of caring.

"You...you aren't half the man my father was!" he hissed. 

Something bitter and almost amused dripped from the Sith to puddle around Luke's fear.

"An ironic statement."

"You don't know me!" Luke continued gamely on as if he had not been interrupted. "You think you're the first person to play mind games with my memories? Huh? Kriff you!"

He swung the blade up in a ready position. 

Darth Vader tilted his head to one side, considering.

"This is not going to go the way you think."

The spiders were back, creeping across his brain. Luke blinked and shook his head to clear it. Losing his focus here would be fatal.

"Don't fight it."

Vader raised a hand towards him, almost reaching out. 

"You have been running for a long time. It is alright to rest, now."

Was the Sith doing something to his mind?!

But Ben said mind tricks only worked on the weak-willed! And Yoda was always complaining about how stubborn he was!

"Get out of my head!" Luke shouted. Don't panic, don't panic-

"It is not me." 

Oh, gentleness did not sound right coming out of that voice.

"You have forgotten who you are, and yet from our first encounter your memories have tried to reestablish themselves. Stop fighting them, Luke. Let them flow."

Luke stopped pretending he wasn't afraid. He was terrified. He was alone in an isolated place, too far away to call for help, and trapped with a deadly enemy who meant to prey upon his very sense of self. 

His hands were shaking too badly to hold up his father's blade. This was so stupid, he was so stupid, he never should have come here! He had to get out, there had to be a way out!

Luke scanned the room frantically for an exit. He backed away from Vader and edged towards what looked like a corridor. 

"Luke."

"No!" 

Luke stumbled over a bundle of cables on the floor and nearly fell. He managed a graceful recovery despite his terror and kept moving.

"Stay away from me!"

Vader did not. He began to move at last, slow and purposeful and relentless. 

The Force moved around them like a frigid tide, pulling machinery from the walls to land behind Luke. He was cutting off his escape. The trap had been sprung.

"Stop running, Luke."

"Leave me alone!"

He was pleading now.

All sense of bravado, of dignity, had fled.

Obi-wan was right. I'm not ready. I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die-

If Leia lives, it's worth it

But I don't-

I don't want to die

And then at last, he could go no further. His calves caught on some discarded hunk of metal, and toppled him. Sharp, broken pieces dug into his back as he landed. The pain felt distant, like something that was happening to someone else. Luke's increasing disorientation muffled everything but his fear.

This was the end. Luke, on the ground at Darth Vader's feet. If the encounter didn't end in immediate death, his interrogation was likely imminent. 

But Vader 

Knelt.

He kneeled down beside Luke and rested his gloved hand on Luke's cheek. Luke was very sure that his heart was going to stop.

Oh. He's going to snap my neck. At least it'll be quick.

"Enough, child." A deep bass growl vibrated through the words. He sounded as though he was finally angry. "I am not going to kill you!"

Before Luke had time to process that, he added, "I am trying to save you."

Save me?! From what?!

Luke swung out with one arm, trying to push the dark lord away. Vader caught his wrist easily and squeezed it. 

"You know me." Each syllable dripped with an unexpected urgency. "Search your feelings: you will know it to be true. Remember, Luke. You must remember."

"No!" Luke tried in vain to pull away. "S-stop!"

He was pulled, gently, but firmly, up into a sitting position. 

He was pulled, less gently, by the thread around his soul. It reached out, straining for something it had once known. A sense of something missing. 

A sense that was being answered in kind.

And he felt something. Something he had felt before. 

Or rather 

Someone.

Luke knew the answer to the question his soul was asking. 

He didn't want to know. 

He didn't want to face it. 

No, no please-! 

"You have forgotten what you once knew," Vader murmured. "You have forgotten me. And I- I believed you had died."

Seething shadows coiled around them both. 

"The Emperor will suffer no Skywalker to be free. If he is not entirely beneath the emperor's thumb, then he must die. If you lived, his hold on me was jeopardized. Luke, he told me you were dead. But here you are, alive again!"

Skywalker. 

Vader was referring to himself as Skywalker. 

The Force resonated. A great bell seemed to have tolled, and with each reverberation the jagged pieces were forced together. 

Darkness and Light.

Hunter and quarry. 

Lost and found. 

Father and son.

Luke could not see through his tears. He didn't need to. He could feel. 

The Force was no longer a counterpoint around them. It was a harmony. And that was the hardest truth of all.

Shhh, you are safe. I'm here, I'm here.

The same soundless lullaby that had soothed his childhood nightmares. The thing he had forgotten.

His father's voice. 

I know you. 

"Oh." Darth Vader lifted him free of the machinery as easily as if he were still a little child. 

He pulled Luke into his arms. Luke did not have the strength to resist.

“There you are.”

[latteunwoo]

first love || l.mh

↪  in life, many have experienced what it’s like to have a first love. this is how lee minho became your first love. 

pairing: high school student!lee know x reader (feat. stray kids)

genre: fluff; humor; angst (??????? not too much, just the ending </3)

word count: 3.2k 

A/N: This is the first part of my Lee Know series. I’m still a bit rusty since it’s been a while since I’ve gotten the motivation to write again but I hope you guys still like it and can bear with me. In this series, Lee Know, the reader, and the other members of Stray Kids are not idols. Do note that most of the content are not real/accurate because this is an AU (Alternate Universe).

stray kids m.list || main m.list 

Everyone has had their first love; that special someone that makes us experience love in an intense and special way for the very first time. For you, that was Lee Minho. 

In fact, you were both each other’s first loves. The two of you had grown up together as you two just so happened to attend the same schools and as cliché as it sounds, one of you would’ve ended up developing feelings for the other one.

Funny enough, Minho was the one who started crushing on you first. He realized it in second grade that you were the girl of his dreams. Though at that age he didn’t realize it was love, he still was smart enough to know that he wanted to do everything in his power to impress you however he can. 

It wasn’t his intention to make it look like he was purposefully doing better than you to mock you or anything though that’s how some of your classmates had falsely assumed it was. He just genuinely wanted to do good so he could impress you, though you hardly ever noticed any of his signals; or at least you made it look that way as you didn’t want to assume anything.

Unlike Minho, you were pretty good at hiding your feelings. As you two started to go through puberty and Minho had started to look more different, you started noticing him more; especially when he started getting into dance. 

Other than all the things Minho was good at, dancing was his top expertise and something you could tell he was really passionate about. This was also something that made him more popular amongst the other girls.

You realized it in middle school that you may have a crush on him as your heart started racing even faster whenever he would call your name out loud when he saw you every morning and insisted that you two walk to class together and you couldn’t help but feel jealous whenever some of the other girls in your class would crowd around him after his dance performances. Though you managed to not make your feelings for him noticeable; at least for a while.

"Are the results out yet?” Your friend Mina asked as the whole classroom was currently filled with a lot of chatter during the first break because today was the day the results of each grade’s class presidents and vice presidents were going to be released.

“They’ll be out during lunch time,” you said as you pulled out your books for the next class.

“We all know who the president is gonna be,” Your other friend Soojin scoffed as you all looked over to where Minho was entertaining some of the girls in your grade in the hallway.

“Hey! Don’t say that, maybe this year it’ll be Y/N,” Mina said as she hit Soojin’s arm.

“What? It’s true. He always wins.”

“Well, you don’t know! Y/N has gotten really popular too.”

As the two of them started bickering with each other you softly laughed before going back to prepping for the next class. 

It was true. Minho always won because all the girls and a majority of the guys in your grade would vote for him. Not only was he the school’s ‘visual’ but he was extremely talented and smart which made his overall appearance even better in their eyes. 

You don’t despise him or anything for always being first and leaving you with second place however. You did have to admit that he wasn’t so bad and it wasn’t like he ever rubbed it directly in your face or said anything mean to you about it, so you didn’t really have a proper reason to hate him.

It wasn’t like everyone hated you either. Amongst the girls in your grade, you were first at least. You were really smart and humble; and you were Minho’s friend which gave you an advantage in everyone else’s eyes despite you not really showing your friendship with him off. 

Once lunchtime came around, everyone scurried out of the classroom as soon as the bell rang and ran to the first floor of the building to see the results. 

“Are you not coming?” Soojin asked as you shook your head and gave her the excuse that you were just going to stay in the classroom to study, “Suit yourself then. We’ll bring you some food when we come back!”

Not even ten minutes later, the two of them came rushing back into the room. They both started saying things at the same time it was hard to understand what they were trying to tell you at first since their voices overlapped with each other. 

“Calm down. What happened?” You asked as you tried to calm the two down a bit and have them speak one at a time. 

“You... You won for... for class president,” Mina said as she was still trying to catch her breath from running all the way up here from the first floor.

“What?” You asked as you grabbed each of them and looked at them directly in the eyes and searched for any sign that they were possibly joking but they looked genuinely as surprised as you were.

“Yeah, we overheard some of the students talking and apparently Minho had told Mr. Kim to give the spot to you instead.”

“Why would he do that? Is he trying to mock you or something?” Soojin asked as the two of them started talking about what could cause Minho to willingly give his spot as class president to you. 

You couldn’t really focus on what they were saying or even at all for that fact though as you were trying to figure out if Minho was doing this to help you or insult you. 

“Congrats Y/N,” your teacher as your classmates cheered you on and although you just smiled at them you couldn’t help but feel uneasy about the situation.

It was weird. Minho had given the class president spot to you but why was he suddenly acting so cold around you? Ever since the results got out, he’d only give you short responses and never really gave you any time outside of the time you spent together doing your class president and vice president tasks to talk.

“Minho,” you softly spoke as the two of you were currently working on a setting up your class’s booth for the school festival, “c-can we talk later?”

“We have to work the booth,” he simply replied as he moved past you to work on putting up the sign on your booth.

“Pft, whatever,” you snickered as you glared at his back before going back into the classroom to get the rest of the decorations. 

“You don’t think...” Mina wondered as she looked at Soojin to see if she had the same idea.

“No way,” they both gasped as they now looked at you who wasn’t really paying attention at first because you were busy making more paper flowers for the booth.

“What?” You asked, looking up at them after feeling their gazes burning into your skin.

“He likes you.”

“Huh?”

“Lee Minho likes you,” they both said as they started teasing you about the possibility of Minho acting this way because he likes you; though you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks burning at the thought of it.

“You’re both crazy,” you said as you threw one of the paper flowers at them before grabbing the box of them you had made back to the booth to start hanging them onto the booth, “They’re crazy. They don’t know what they’re talking about. I don’t even-”

Before you could even finished your question, you felt one of the legs on the chair you were standing on snapped. You had expected to land straight onto the concrete, however you were surprised when you opened your eyes to see Minho looking down at you as he had caught you before you landed straight on the ground, “Are you okay?” 

“H-huh?” you stuttered as you felt very flustered at how close the two of you were.

“Are you okay?” He asked again as you quickly snapped out of your thoughts.

“Oh. Y-yeah. I’m fine,” you said softly as you attempted to stand up on your own only to fall back down on the ground as you felt a shot of pain in your right ankle.

“Y/N!” Minho exclaimed as he crouched down to your level and pressed his hand gently on your swollen ankle, “You’re not okay. Here, hold onto my shoulder, I’ll take you to the nurse.”

Before you could even protest, he had swung your arm over his shoulder and carried you bridal style to the nurse’s office while you heard multiple ‘Oooohhhhh’s and whistling from the students who had witnessed the scene. 

As the nurse wrapped a bandage over your swollen ankle, you and Minho looked everywhere but each other. It’d be a lie if either of you said the situation didn’t feel awkward since you two weren’t really on talking terms; thanks to him of course.

“There,” the nurse grinned as she started cleaning up the wrappers from the bandages, “it’s not broken, but it has been sprained so it will take a few days to heal. For now you can ask your boyfriend to-”

Before she could even finish, you had instantly sat up from your spot and Minho had stood up from the chair he was sitting in and you two both started protesting that he wasn’t your boyfriend. The nurse simply just smirked at the two of you before leaving you to go take care of another student on the other side of the curtain.

“Here. Let me help you.” Minho said as he quickly went over to help you off the bed, not really knowing where to put his hands though somehow one of his arms ended up on your waist as you had supported yourself on him by wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

“Thank you,” you said as you reached for the crutch the nurse had given you and placed it under your right arm before releasing your arm off of his shoulder.

“Oh,” he said as he was still staring at you, his arm still around your waist, “No problem.”

“You can let go of me now, I got it,” you smiled at him as he instantly snapped out of it and let go of his grip around your waist.

“Sorry,” he muttered as you started walking back to the booth while he followed shortly after.

The rest of the afternoon was spent with you sitting on a chair at the booth finishing up the decorations there while Minho put them up for you. There was a silence between the two of you as you two worked, however this silence wasn’t awkward anymore. 

“Ah, what time is it now? I still need to change out of my uniform,” you said to yourself as you reached for your phone to check the time. 

“It’s almost five. Do you need help?” Minho asked as his eyes widened when he realized that what he had said might have been taken the wrong way, “I-I didn’t mean like- I just- I meant-”

You just laughed at his stuttering and stood up from the chair to head over to the locker rooms where you had told Mina to meet you at, “It’s fine. I know what you meant but I already told Mina to come help me. You can just take a break. I’ll be back!”

“Woah, Y/N is that you?” Chan teased as the other boys had turned their attention to you.

“Do I look that bad?” You asked as you fixed your skirt and pushed some of your hair behind your ear.

“Badass, for sure yeah,” Jisung exclaimed and you just let out a small laugh at the younger boy as he continued, “But really, you look really nice, Y/N!”

“Thank you, Han,” you smiled as the other boys had joined in on complimenting you while Minho felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

You were really pretty to begin with, Minho admitted that, however right now you just had a different glow radiating off of you and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You had noticed him staring and even looked over to try to catch him in the act, but before you could even say anything he either looked away or made himself busy by helping any of the other students who had come over to your booth.

Business at the booth started to slow down as most of the students were on the soccer field watching the performances. This gave you the perfect opportunity to count how much money you guys had made. Though you couldn’t really concentrate as you felt someone staring at you. 

You quickly turned your head toward the boy sitting next to you, surprised at how close you two actually were from each other, “D-do I have something on my face?” 

Minho didn’t even answer you, his eyes moved from your eyes to your lips as he leaned in closer before connecting your lips. Your eyes widened at the action. You could feel your heart racing out of your chest; which is something that has been happening a lot lately whenever you were around him.

As you were about to kiss him back, the boy quickly had snapped out of his trance and instantly pulled away to your dismay. It’d be an understatement if you said that you didn’t feel your heart fall to the floor when he pulled away from you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he moved back in his seat and looked away from you, his cheeks and ears burning red. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. I must be insane, he thought to himself as his heart started racing once again as he thought about what he had just done. 

It was your turn to stare now. You looked at the boy as what the girls had said earlier started playing in your mind and you started wondering about what he could be feeling. Could he actually have feelings for you or?

He felt movement next to him and turned his head to see what you were doing only for you to catch him by surprise as you grabbed the collar of his shirt to pull him closer to you and press your lips on his this time. When you pulled away, you looked at the boy in front of you who was still currently in a state of shock.

“Do you like me?” You asked as his eyes widened even more.

“I-I can’t breathe,” he stuttered still trying to catch his breath as you raised an eyebrow at him, “I mean, yeah. I like you. So much that I can’t breathe.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he confessed, “That’s why I told Mr. Kim to make you class president instead because I knew how much you wanted to be class president and I had thought that if I did that you’d like me more but I overheard you talking with the girls about how you didn’t feel comfortable that I did that so that’s why I distanced myself because I didn’t want you to be more upset with me, but Y/N I really do like you. I’m really sorry and I understand if you don’t-”

“It’s okay,” you interrupted, “but you could’ve just told me in the first place that you liked me.”

“I know. I’m sorry-”

“Also, I like you too,” you said as Minho felt his cheeks and ears burning even more. 

“You do?” He asked and you nodded. “Will you be my girlfriend then?”

Though part of you had expected the situation to turn this way, the way the word ‘girlfriend’ sounded coming from him caught you off guard.

“S-sure,” you stuttered as his smile grew wider and he engulfed you into a tight hug, “Now I can’t breathe.” 

He quickly loosened his grip on you before bowing his head down, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assured as you gave him a reassuring smile.

You’d be lying if you said the first few days, maybe even weeks, of your relationship wasn’t a bit awkward. Since it was both of your first times being in a relationship, neither of you knew what exactly to do or at least was appropriate enough to do.

“Can I hold your hand?” Minho had asked nervously the next school day after the festival with one hand hovering hesitantly next to yours while the other was behind his neck.

“Yeah,” you said trying not to seem too forward as you closed the distance between both of your hands and intertwined your fingers while you lead him the rest of the way to school.

As you two got closer to campus and you started seeing more of your classmates, you became more nervous about whether you should just let go of his hand or not. It wasn’t that you were embarrassed about being in a relationship with him but you were just worried about your classmates having negative thoughts about the relationship and you didn’t want him to get hate about it or anything. 

“If you feel uncomfortable about being public with our relationship, it’s fine they don’t have to know,” Minho assured you as if he had read your mind. 

“I just don’t want anyone to think I’m just using you or anything.”

“It’s okay. I’m fine if you want to keep it lowkey for now.” He gave you a reassuring smile as he slowly let go of your hand before the two of you started walking the rest of the way together. 

This became a daily routine for a few weeks. The two of you would walk to and from school together though you would stop holding hands when you were within view of your other classmates. And you would only have small dates at either of your houses. Minho didn’t mind though because he himself was also very worried that if you two showed off your relationship a bit more that the girls who were always fangirling over him at school would hurt you and though he knew he could protect you from them he still didn’t want you to end up feeling uncomfortable about the thought of them hating you for it.

Obviously with both of your friends being very nosy, it wasn’t too long until they started to find out that the two of you were actually in a relationship already. They knew you both had feelings for each other, though they didn’t know you two had already confessed at the school festival.

Seeing your friends being supportive about the relationship boosted your confidence about being public with your relationship with Minho. You two started holding hands all the way to class and sometimes even during school when you had breaks; him sometimes stealing a quick kiss too and earning cheers from your classmates.

Eventually the two of you became more comfortable with each other and practically became inseparable. As you two were each other’s first loves, your entire relationship was spent not only learning more about each other but also what it means to truly love someone. You two were so much in love with each other that you had thought it would last forever. However of course, the reality of it was that sometimes your first love wasn’t meant to be your last.

-

part two || skz m.list

[dreamescapeswriting]

Unplanned Outcome ~ PJM & JHS [Request] [Part Two]

↬↬↬  Part One [M]

↬↬↬Word Count: 6.1K

↬↬↬Genre: Angst, fluff?

↬↬↬Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Fem!Reader

↬↬↬A/n: This was written before anyone even saw part 2 so I hope you guys enjoy this

This was just going to be a flying visit, that was what you kept repeating over in your head nothing was going to keep you there. In and out. No one would have to know you were even in town and it would be fine, everything would be fine and you had nothing to worry about. 

"Here darling, take this." You whispered to your daughter as she held out her hands for the fake keys you were holding out for her to take, she giggled at you and began chewing on the teething ring she was holding. It was her favourite teething set that you'd gotten her for her 2nd birthday a couple of months ago, 2 years. It had been that long - well 2 years and 8 months since you left Seoul and this was the first time you were driving back through. Coming back to the city you'd left for a good reason.  

"State your business here please," The man at the toll booth said as you handed him the money and waited for your ticket you knew this was his job but he could have at least smiled about it, 

"Family visit, leaving Sunday." You knew you had to be brief with them, they didn't care what you were doing they only cared if you were staying or leaving. His eyes lit up when he heard your daughter saying something in the back of your car,

"Cute kid," You smiled in the mirror at your daughter who was now falling asleep with her mouth wrapped around the fake keys. 

"She is," You whispered thanking him for the ticket and driving further down the motorway in the direction of a gas station, you were running low and wanted to stock up on fuel before you got to your mums' place - she was the one forcing you to come back after all. She'd gone on a huge rant that it wasn't fair about keeping you and your daughter out of Seoul without anyone getting to see her despite your counter-argument about how they could come to you anytime they wanted to they just didn't want to. 

Passing through the city everything began to seep back into your memories, everything you'd managed to push off and ignore for the last 2 years and 8 months of being out of there. Black and white images flashed through your head like a silent movie about the nights you'd spent lying to Hoseok and going to secret spots with Jimin, even all the memories you shared with Hoseok over the years. 

"You're going to love halmeoni's." You'd been trying to speak a little Korean around her since she was part Korean you wanted her to know about her heritage and language. She stared at you in the mirror trying to say the word but she was struggling with it and you smiled softly at her she was only young but you still talked to her as though she was going to speak back to you in coherent sentences. 

"She's got this huge sandpit in the back garden and she's convinced your aunties to bring their sons around, you'll love them I promise." She'd only ever been around other kids when she was in nursery and daycare and this was the first time she was ever going to meet anyone else that was family. No one had come to see you when you gave birth because they were all so busy with their own things to get out of Seoul and find you plus you'd told your mum not to come out, after the birth you didn't want anyone to come near you. It had been one of the worst moments in your daughter's life.

Sooyoung was walking past the gas station when she could have sworn she saw your car pulling out of it and getting ready to move onto the main road in the direction into town, she stayed still on the path watching from afar wanting to see for sure that it was you - she didn't want to be the one to cry wolf if it wasn't really you inside of the car. But the number plate was the same and as soon as your car pulled onto the main road her mouth dropped open it was either you or someone that looked an awful lot like you.

Sooyoung: [10:45 AM ] I think I just saw Y/n...She's back in Seoul? Did she call you? 

Hitting send she waited patiently for Jaein to get back to her. All of them had been worried sick since the moment you left town, spending countless days trying to contact you. Hoseok went to your parents but they had no idea you'd even left Seoul. He spent months trying to track you down but it was clear you didn't want to be found, your number had been deactivated, your mother told Hoseok to stop looking and you'd deleted all forms of social media not wanting to be reached by a single person. It was clear you didn't want to be found so they all gave up - everyone except for Jimin and Hoseok. Jimin convinced everyone that he was going to keep helping his Hyung but Sooyoung knew there was something else keeping him going, no one was ever that motivated to find someone without there being something there but after a few months Jimin dropped everything. It was like he didn't even want to know who you were anymore, he even stopped speaking to Hoseok who never gave out hope on you coming back.

Jaein: [10:57 am] Hasn't contacted me? I'll go to my mums and keep an eye out, if she's back she'll go to her mum. Don't tell Hobi. He's only just getting through things. 

They both agreed to wait until there was concrete evidence that you were back in Seoul, Jaein had lived across the road from you like kids and was going to sit out in her window all day if that's what it took to find out if it was really you Sooyoung had seen. It had to have been though there was no one else it could have been - the same car, the same plates and you even looked like you, you'd hardly changed in the two years you'd been gone though. Your hair had gotten a little longer from what she could see through the car window but other than that there was nothing new about you. Sooyoung stared down at her phone debating calling Hoseok but he'd only just been able to move on from you running away from him. He'd been blaming himself the entire time, saying that he was the one that pushed you to run away as you did. Leaving nothing behind, not even a note to tell him why you were leaving and where you were going if you'd ever come back. It ripped him apart leaving everyone around him to pick up the debris that you'd left behind in your path of destruction. Sooyoung's blood boiled the more she thought about you packing up and living without a word, she hated you for what you did to Sooyoung and she was never going to hide that fact from you.

"Mum, I'm outside, can you come and help us inside?" You asked over the phone as you unstrapped your daughter from her car seat, she was fast asleep which was going to make things easier for you. All you had to do was get her into the house without Jaein's mother seeing you both, she was one of the biggest gossipers on the street and as soon as she knew something everyone would know within hours. 

"You're here!" You heard your mother scream and you rolled your eyes she was being dramatic as ever about things so you held up your finger up to your mouth to signal that your daughter was sleeping and that you didn't want anyone to wake her up just yet. Naptime was very little in your household and you were going to let her nap as long as she needed.

"The bags are in the boot of the car, I'll take her inside." You whispered picking up your daughter and carrying her up the driveway and into the house where you were greeted by your aunties all wanting to get a peek of your daughter but you held her closer to you and walked in the direction of your old room. Your mum had already put up a small crib for her to sleep inside of while you stayed with her.

Jaein: [11:30 am] It's her but there's something you have to know, let me call you...

She'd watched the whole time, the moment your car pulled onto the driveway she was in the window watching. Your mum came out with her arms spread wide but stopped once she saw you do something, you were clutching something in your hands when you got out of the car and when you turned towards the house that's when Jaein saw the baby clutched in your arms, Jaein was too far away to be able to determine the age of the baby but as soon as she saw you and no one else in the car she knew the baby was yours. 

"Are you sure? It could have just been one of her cousins?" Sooyoung didn't want to assume that you'd run off to have a baby and not told anyone, it could have been any number of reasons, 

"No, her mum looked like she hadn't seen her in years and then they took bags into the house. I'm telling you it's her baby." Jaein was sitting in the window of her old bedroom still trying to see if anything else happened but you were staying inside of the house by the looks of it. It seemed to be a huge family reunion going on since she kept seeing your family pull up and head into the house. 

"Do we tell Hoseok?" Sooyoung questioned as she stared down a photograph she still had of you and her in her apartment, 

"We don't even know if the baby is his, she's been gone for so long she could have moved on by now, met someone new." Sooyoung hummed putting down the photograph, 

"I'll come around to yours and we'll crash the party." 

Your mother had you and your daughter sitting in the living room while everyone questioned you on who the father was, something you'd never told anyone because how could you tell them when you didn't know. It was always the same story, it was none of their business and they weren't to tell anyone that you had a child. 

"I bet it's Hoseok's and that's why she ran away." You shot a look at your cousin who was sniggering to her husband, you knew they all locked down on you for walking away from the wedding and throwing your life away. 

"Why would she run away? I bet she cheated on him." You'd had enough of their snide comments about you and your daughter it was all that had been happening from the moment you'd brought her down for everyone to see. From the way she looked to the clothes you dressed her in, they just liked to nitpick on every small thing so you picked her up from the floor. 

"I'm going for a walk." You pushed past your cousins who were now laughing at you as you laid your daughter down in the small pram and began pushing her out of the house, your mother caught your arm before you got to the door. 

"You promise to come back this time, don't you?" Her voice was shaking and your heart sank as you realised just how much this had affected her, you'd never thought about it until now. How you'd locked almost everyone out of her life and never gave them a chance to be included on it, you hadn't even sent photographs to your mum. You were so scared she would show someone who would tell Hoseok or Jimin about your daughter,

"I promise. I'm just going to go and get her favourite apple sauce." You whispered leaning up and kissing her cheek before pushing the pram out of the house only to see Sooyoung and Jaein across the road on their way over. They were on their way to crash the party when they saw you coming out of the house.

"Y/n?" You were torn, going back into the house meant facing everyone laughing about you but going out onto the road meant facing them and asking their questions.

"Hi Sooyoung," You swallowed the lump in your throat as you pushed your sleeping daughter down the road and towards them, they were going to keep following you so you might as well get it over and done with to see what they would say. 

"Cute kid." You saw no use in lying to Jaein, they both knew when you lied they knew you too well. 

"She's mine," You whispered moving the top of the pram away from her face and looking down at her, her being there made you less anxious about this but you knew that this had only just started. 

"How old is she?" You glanced at Sooyoung who hadn't even looked at your child, she'd just stood with her hands on her hips staring at you. 

"2 years old back in April." You whispered looking away from her, you felt like you were being scolded by a teacher but she held her stare on you regardless that you were looking away from her. She wanted you to feel like this, you had questions to answer to.

"Where have you been? I've been so worried!" Jaein was always the sweeter and more forgiving one of your friends, your daughter began to stir in her sleep and then let out a cry.

"I'm here baby," You whispered bending down to pick her up in your arms and bounce her from side to side, as soon as her eyes opened Sooyoung's facial expression softened looking at the way she clung around your neck the way she did. 

"You're good with kids," You laughed as Sooyoung bounced your daughter on her lap, you were sitting on a porch swing with Jaein and Sooyoung as they questioned you. It hadn't been as bad as you thought it would be, you'd thought they would integrate you but they were just asking small questions about what your life was like and what your daughter was like.

"Is she Hobi's?" Sooyoung's voice was stern and you knew that question was coming but you hadn't expected her to be so blunt about it. You had no idea if Jimin had told people what happened between you, you had no idea what any of them had been doing. As soon as you were out of Seoul you deactivated your phone so you couldn't be tempted to call them and fix things over. You didn't want to when you knew there was no going back on what you had done. 

"We need to get you back home to Grandma," You forced out a laugh taking your daughter in your hands and laying her down in the pram but Sooyoung wasn't done, you began walking across the road while she yelled at you. Jaein begging her to stop, that things were fine and she didn't need to do this but Sooyoung had no sympathy for you not after what you'd put everyone through.

"Why didn't you just tell him you were pregnant?! He would have loved to be a dad or are you just that heartless?!" The last part got you, you turned around to look at her eyes filled with tears as you finally admitted the one thing that had been holding you down for years.

"Cause there is a very big chance that he isn't her father!" You finally admitted it felt like a weight was automatically removed from your chest as you screamed the words out to her. Jaein stared at you with wide eyes but you pushed the pram back up into your mums' house and shut the door, tears streaming down your cheeks as you finally let out the secret after all these years. You locked the door and your mum came over to you, the house was silent as everyone turned to see you crying. 

"Y/n? What happened?" You shook your head at her looking at your cousins who were all intrigued to know what had happened out there to make you this upset.

"Mum-" You couldn't even get through the sentence, you just bent down to pick up your daughter and rushed up to your old bedroom, slamming the door and putting your daughter into her crib. 

"I'm sorry baby, here." You handed her the stuffed toys you'd brought along with you, as well as some blocks for her to play with. You sat in front of the crib watching her closely, you were sure she belonged to Hoseok but there was always that fact that she could possibly belong to Jimin and that was the one thing you didn't want. 

"I'm sorry your life is so messed up, it wasn't meant to be like this." You whimpered, her hand came through the small bar of the crib to wipe away your tears, 

"Mum sad?" You nodded at her and she frowned watching you, she was always so inquisitive about everything happening around her. 

"Yeah, darling, mum's sad." You whispered watching as she very cleverly made her way out of the crib before sitting between your legs and resting her head on your chest. 

"What's wrong?" You sighed looking down at her, you began playing with her hair as you shook your head telling her that it was nothing. 

"Mum's just sad, you're growing up so quickly." You lied putting her hair into two pigtails kissing the back of her head when there was a knock at the door. 

"I sent everyone home," You felt bad that your mum had to cancel things because of you,

"They started as soon as you walked away, I won't let anyone talk about my daughter like that but I saw Sooyoung and Jaein." She sat down beside you and laid your head on her shoulder wanting to care for you like you were your daughter. 

"You don't have to tell me what happened, you don't have to tell me why you left but just...just let me in. Let me help you." You whimpered hearing her say this to you, you'd locked her out for so long thinking she would think little of you for what happened but she was your mum. She wasn't there to judge you, 

"There's something you need to know about her." You whispered wiping your eyes on your sleeve and looking at your daughter. 

"Tell me." 

The cup in your hand was starting to burn the palm of your hands but it was nothing compared to the scolding you were getting from your mum. You were sitting in the back garden watching your daughter playing on the small slid and the ball pit that was in there. Your mother had gone through the emotions with you, she was angry with you, then sad that you had to go through it alone and back to being angry because of what you'd done to your perfect relationship with Hoseok. 

"Does he know about Jimin?" You shook your head and sipped on the coffee, 

"Unless Jimin told him, I don't think so." She sighed at you watching as you drank the hot liquid, she took in a deep breath knowing that she was going to have to act like a mother again. 

"You have to tell them both-"

"I'm sure Sooyoung already went to tell him earlier." You muttered putting down the mug and going over to your daughter who was calling out for you to play with her in the pit. 

"You can't keep something like this from him forever, he has a right to." You knew she was right but it wasn't the right time but you knew it was never going to feel like the right time. Your mother watched as you ignored her and she knew she was going to have to step in and do something about it.

"When do you leave tomorrow?" 

"6 pm, why?" You questioned laughing as your daughter went down backwards on the slide, 

"I'll make us a family meal. Your favourite?" You nodded at her not looking over at her as you keep your eye on your daughter. 

"She's back? For good?" Hoseok asked looking at Sooyoung as she stood at his front door, he hadn't let her inside because he didn't feel like having visitors until he heard you were in town. The moment he heard that he let his guard down and she made her way inside of the house, nothing had changed. There were photos of you all over the walls, he hadn't moved on from you at all and he was still holding out hope that you would come home to him one day that you just needed time to think things over and you would be back.

"There's something you need to know Hoseok, she's not alone." His heart began to beat fast as he thought you'd come home with another man but he could tell by the look on Sooyoung's face that it was something else, 

"She has a child." Her mouth ran dry as she debated about telling him how she didn't know it she was his or not. It wasn't her place to tell him any of this but she could already tell that you weren't going to do it any time soon and he had every right to know, especially if there was a chance that that little girl was his. 

"A child?" He sat down on the chair behind him shocked, his legs felt like jelly at the thought of him having a child to you. 

"Is the child mine?" Sooyoung stayed quiet and he could already tell that she didn't have an idea to the answer of the question, Hoseok's mind went back to all of the time you'd been spending with Jimin and how he thought you'd been cheating on him all those years ago.

"You should go Sooyoung, I- I need to think." She walked out of the house without another word while Hoseok sat there staring at a photo of you on the fireplace, you were smiling brightly in the photo and holding up the engagement ring to the camera, happy about your life future together but on closer inspection, Hoseok noticed something he hadn't noticed before, Jimin. He was standing in the back of the photo glaring at you both in the shot and that was all it took for Hoseok to grab his car keys.

The next day had gone by in the blink of an eye but there was something off, your mother had barely spoken a word to you since you'd walked down the stairs but you put it down to the news you'd told her yesterday about your daughter and the identity of her father.

"Would it be selfish for me to ask you to stay?" Your mother asked as you laid the table, it was the first time she was going to have a full table for the first time in years and she didn't want to say goodbye to that feeling just yet. She'd only just gotten you back and now you were getting ready to up and leave her once again. 

"I'm sorry mum, we have a life back home now-"

"You had a life here!" She snapped slamming down a cup on the counter, you looked down at the floor swallowing the lump in your throat. 

"I'm going to go and put her in the swings." You whispered looking away from her as she tried to say sorry for her outburst but you left her to it.

"Swings!" You giggled excitedly to your daughter who had been colouring in the living room, 

"Swings?!" She screamed dropping the pencils and rushing to your side as fast as her tiny little legs would carry her, she bounced up into your arms and you blew on her stomach as you carried her in the direction of the backdoor. 

"She's gorgeous." You heard the familiar voice say, you turned on your heel to see Hoseok standing on the back porch watching you closely. He'd been standing there for ten minutes just watching you both as you pushed your daughter on the swing set, you hadn't changed at all in the years that you'd been away except for the child. 

"Hobi." You breathed, as soon as your eyes locked with him it brought back all of the overwhelming emotions you'd left behind, the love, heartbreak and guilt you'd felt towards him all these years coming crashing back like waves to a beach. 

"How old is she?" He questioned coming closer to you and her as you stopped the swing from moving, your daughter went to protest until she realised you were no longer alone in the garden. 

"2 Years old." You answered blandly looking at him as he stared at your daughter, you knew what he was doing it was the same you had done. He was scanning her for any signs that she was his and not someone else's,

"Jimin knows. I assumed that's who you think the other father is." His tone was harsh and you didn't blame him, what you'd done to him was wrong and you weren't going to hold it against him if he wanted to be mean about everything. 

"Hoseok I never-"

"Meant to hurt me? Ruin my life? Runaway without an explanation? Show up two years with a daughter you don't know the father of." You picked your daughter out of the swing set, 

"Go to grandma and clean up for the food." You whispered to her tapping her on the head as she rushed past Hoseok, staring up at him as she did.

"How could you do that to her?" You frowned expecting this conversation to be about him and what you had done to him, 

"You took her away from her father, you know I would have raised her as my own don't you." You looked down at the floor as he began to stalk his way over to you, it felt like he was the lion and you were the deer he was hunting. 

"Hoseok please let me-"

"Explain? I'm waiting for something you can say to make any of this better because Jimin couldn't think of anything either." That was when you noticed his knuckles, they were all scabbed over, your eyes flicked up to his face and you took in his appearance properly. He'd lost weight since the last time you saw him and he had a bust lip, 

"You fought him?" You breathed looking at his face and wanting to rush over to him and look after him but he wasn't yours to look after anymore, he wasn't yours to worry about. 

"Why? Scared I hurt him?!" He snapped, 

"I'm scared you hurt yourself! You've never been good at fighting," You sighed at him and he felt his heart sink as he realised that you still cared for him. 

"It was never meant to happen like that-"

"You were supposed to break things off first?" You shook your head tearing up, he had every right to be this mad about it since it was his life you'd ruined by running out on him.

"No. I never wanted to hurt you! Jimin was just-" You let the tears rolled down your cheeks, you'd thought about how this would go a million times but you'd never put into practice what you were going to say to him because nothing would be able to tell him how truly sorry you were and why you had done it. 

"He already explained it to me and he's a-" He didn't finish his sentence but you noticed his hands clench up at the mention of him. 

"I went to see him and talk about all of this but he just claimed that he didn't care. That all of that was in the past and he was happy now, happy with someone who stuck around and that he'd only been with you for one reason." You blinked at him waiting for the reason, you already had suspicions about it all, after you left you began to piece things together. How Jimin only wanted you once you expressed how happy you and Hoseok were and how he never seemed to care about Hoseok's feelings, 

"He was just using you to tear us apart, he didn't want to see either of us happy together." You didn't feel your heartbreak like you thought you would, all you felt was anger towards the one who had used you to break down the man you did truly love.

"What happened between me and him it was just...It was excitement and passion that made me do it and..I was addicted to him but it's nothing now. I didn't love him I didn't feel anything towards him like I did- Do with you." You corrected yourself and he stared at you waiting for you to continue but there was nothing you could possibly say to make things smooth over and be like how they used to be. 

"Your mum said she had no idea where you were when you left." You were both sitting on the porch steps talking about everything, you'd spoken about when you left and where you went to with your daughter. 

"I just left. I didn't tell anyone Hobi, I knew that the less people that knew the fewer would have to lie to you." You whispered playing with your fingers, he'd been so forgiving throughout all of it and it wasn't fair. You wanted him to scream at yell at you for all of the things you'd put him through but he wasn't like that at all.

"Was anyone with you when you gave birth?" You shook your head thinking about the moment you'd gone into labour with her, you thought it was the Universe getting back at you for what you'd done to Hoseok, 

"I think I had instant Karma. I had to give birth in an elevator," You laughed at yourself but Hoseok's eyes filled with concern the moment you mentioned it. No one knew this story, you told your mother you'd given birth in the hospital instead of an elevator in the smallest apartment building you could find. 

"Dear god not now!" You screamed clutching the bottom of your bump as you felt your water break, you could have had hours until you had to push but the way the contractions were hitting you you knew it wouldn't be long and you were stuck inside the smallest elevator known to man.

"Fuck! Please!" You whimpered hitting the alarm button inside the elevator, a man's voice sounded through the system but he didn't sound bothered that you were screaming in agony. 

"Get me out of this fucking thing before I give birth on this fucking floor!" You screamed at him but he hung up the emergency call and you were left there alone with your bump. You sunk onto your bum holding onto your stomach as you begged her not to come out yet, to just hold on a little while longer so you could get somewhere safe for her to come into the world. 

 (X)

You weren't ready at all but the man on the elevator alarm told you that there was nothing they could do, the fire department was on their way but the roads were packed thanks to a village-wide power cut.

"You couldn't just wait three more hours?!" You screamed at yourself as you felt the need to push creeping up on you, you spread your legs inside the elevator and laid the jacket you'd been wearing when you got inside. 

"P-please." You whimpered to no one imparticular, you just wanted this to go right so nothing would happen. 

"Okay...3...2...1." You cried out as you began pushing in the way you'd been told to in all the birthing classes, doing everything you could to remember what all of the teachers had said to you. Hold breath and push, breathe and push all over again.

"I-I can't do this." You whimpered to yourself, you couldn't see what was happening, you didn't know if she was going to come out okay or if she was even turned the right away around. 

"You can do this, it's just a couple of more pushes." The male voice was back through the alarm, he couldn't see into the elevator but he'd come back to hear you screaming out. 

"C-Can't." Your body felt so weak but you just kept picturing the way she would look in your arms, the male began to tell you how beautiful she would be, how she was going to be so brave like you were being right now. You didn't feel brave, you felt like a failure who couldn't even give birth to her daughter right,

"One more push okay? Just one more and she'll be right there in your arms." You whimpered hearing his words of encouragement, you just thought about how you didn't deserve them but you had to do this for your daughter. 

"FUCK!" You cried out pushing as hard as you could one last time until you finally felt her leave your body and start screaming loudly

"You've been raising her alone?" You nodded as you looked through the small kitchen window, she was standing with your mum making cupcakes while you and Hoseok sat to catch up on everything. 

"Its a struggle but I manage." You whispered she was worth everything you'd gone through to get her to the place you were at now. You had a stable job, she had a stable school system and you were contempt with your life. You could have been happier if Hoseok had been there but you weren't going to mention that to him, he'd only just found out she even existed. 

"I want to help out in any way that I can,"

"Hobi we don't even know if she's-"

"She's mine. I can tell. The smile, the eyes, she's all me." He whispered looking from her to you, you could tell he was serious about this. About being there for her but you couldn't let him do that,

"Hoseok-"

"Please. If you're not sure we can run tests but I assure you that she's mine and even if she wasn't I'd still raise her." His hand was over yours and you stared at them and thought about the way it made you feel. You still had the wave of butterflies throughout your stomach, the spark whenever he touched you and your eyes began to tear up. 

"No." You stood up from the steps and moved away from him crying heavily as he was just willing to forgive you like that like nothing has happened. 

"You can't- Hobi I broke the trust, I broke everything that happened between us and you're just going to take me back?" He stuttered over his words trying to find something to say, he knew you were right but being with you was what was meant to happen. He was meant to be with you he was so sure of it he was willing to bet everything on it, 

"I love you." You sobbed harder and he engulfed you in a hug kissing the top of your head as you cried to him about how he should hate you. 

"I did. For a while at least but then I just- Seeing you and her it just made me think about what our life would have been like together," You stared at him, you hated that he was this forgiving over something like this, 

"Life isn't a romance novel Hobi...We can't just make up on the spot and think our problems will be fixed." He nodded along to everything you were saying, he knew that but he wanted to put in the effort with you and try. 

"I want to try, I want us to be us again." He ran his hand over your cheek and you leant against it, it felt nice to have him like this again but you didn't want to make this a one-time thing. 

"W-We have a daughter to think about if we're serious about-"

"I am."

"Then we have to go slow, I can't just introduce you as her father and turn her whole world upside down, we take it slow and ease her into it." You warned him and he nodded along with you, willing to do whatever it took to be with you and his daughter. 

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies @snowy-meowl @ariisd1 @jooniesdarlingdimples @lyoongx @lynnthevirgo @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @callingmyangel​ @rjsmochii​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​ @innersooya​

[honeydots]

174 for the persona topic of ur choice [big eye emojis]

“I don’t owe you a damn thing”

Summary: A week after the announcement of Akira’s death, a certain Goro Akechi walks into the café, leaving Akira with limited options and an exciting new high. 

- 

(ao3 link)

-

Sojiro left to get cigarettes. 

The café was quiet as usual. Akira tried to eat his curry as slowly as he could, savoring each bite like it was his last. His days were slow now, and tense. Eating was one way to fill up his time. Chew, swallow, repeat. Chew, swallow, don’t think about the yellow bruise on his jaw and how it aches when he bites, repeat. 

Morgana lounged on the counter next to him. Akira would sometimes offer his spoon and let him lick off the remains. It felt normal, and it felt safe. Safe enough that he could take off his stuffy hood in there, confident that there was no one to hide his face from. 

The announcement of his death had been just over a week ago. Thinking about it gave him a high, a tingling buzz in the back of his head. Another way to keep himself entertained during long mornings. He was buffered and bruised, but still up and kicking. It was easy to remember how hard his heart pounded, and how each pulse fueled his ego a bit more. He had been scared out of his mind, and that was just where the thrill lied. 

But the highs would come down and the excitement would leave, and he would be left sitting in a café, laying low and silent. His only job now was to heal and prepare himself for their next battle. Which, as fun as a rush of adrenaline could be, was nice in itself. He could relax a while, switch himself onto a lower setting. 

The door chimed, and Akira figured it must’ve been Sojiro back from his errands. He turned to nod a greeting. But, with a surprised spurt from Morgana he froze in his seat, faced with the walking and talking front of who he was supposed to be hiding from.

Goro Akechi stood at the door frame with a neutral expression as he scanned Leblanc up and down. Jacket done up neatly, gloves pulled on, he looked just as unbothered as he would when he’d made a habit of coming over before November. 

Akira felt every muscle in his body tense. He’d let his guard down and was about to pay for it. His mind was moving a million miles a minute. He wondered if he could escape him. That, or he could go on the offence. Tie up Akechi and gag him, call the thieves and figure something out together. Though that wouldn’t be so easy, especially since he could have a gun on him. The thought gave him goosebumps. 

Akechi looked him in the eyes, and Akira got ready to run. This was it. If he reached for his pockets, Akira could duck down and dodge, shove a chair in his way and run upstairs to the window. If he tried to jump him plain and simple, Akira could strike first, and maybe have Morgana make a swipe at his face. He could do this. He could do this. 

But Akechi did not reach for his gun. Nor did he take a step. In fact, he hardly moved at all, aside from his expression easing into something calm.  

“Ah, good. I was worried you might be sleeping,” he said, instead of,  “This is it, Kurusu! Time to die!” like Akira thought he would. 

Akira stared at him. Had Akechi known he’d be here? Had he known he was alive? He gulped and kept himself tense, trying to steady his breathing. He couldn’t get distracted here— if he missed something it could mean game over. 

“Akechi,” Morgana sneered, his hackles beginning to raise. Akira barely spared him a glance. He idly hoped that at least he’d be able to get out safe. He could alert everyone else. That was, if Futaba wasn’t already listening in on their conversation. 

He could feel Morgana’s animosity from where he sat. Akira knew he was thinking about protecting him, but he wished he wouldn’t. One of them had to get out of here unscathed; everyone was going to be in danger unless they did something. Akira could feel sweat beading on his forehead. 

Akechi, on the other hand, seemed entirely unbothered. Shoulders lax, soft breaths. Akira had to fight feeling assured to his presence. He couldn’t afford to lose himself relaxing into his company. Not now. 

“That’s quite the tone you’re taking with me,” Akechi sighed, shrugging. “Though, I’m not really surprised. I wouldn’t expect most to place their faith in me again.” 

That was a peculiar line. At least it might’ve been. Akira hoped he wasn’t reading too deeply into his actions, but there was something about him right now. He wasn’t acting hostile, or even angry. It wasn’t like he was trusting him, but the whole atmosphere was off. 

Akira felt his phone buzz several times in succession. He assumed that was Futaba. She’d probably picked up on Akechi being in the café. That was a relieving safety net. He couldn’t pick up now, though. His full attention remained on his personal headsman. 

Akechi walked a few steps towards them. Akira maintained a very watchful eye, but didn’t try to make a run for it. His gut told him that this was the best move for now. He adjusted a bit in his seat, staying prepared to jump if he needed to. 

But somehow, he was getting the feeling he wouldn’t. Akechi seemed relieved. Akira didn’t know what to make of it. 

He looked Akira up and down, keeping that easy expression on his face. “At least you’re healing well. Not to say a ragged look isn’t befitting of you.” 

Akira raised his eyebrows. In any other situation, he would’ve cooed back something snarky. But his mind was focused on trying to understand what he’d just meant. The pit in his stomach was diminishing with every word. What was going on? Why was he being so friendly? 

Morgana beat him to asking. He clicked his tongue.

“What’s your game here, you traitor.” 

Akechi’s expression didn’t falter. He hardly missed a beat. “My, is my visit really so unexpected? How peculiar. I presume you did explain to everyone, Akira-kun?” 

No, he had not explained to everyone because Akira, undoubtedly, had no goddamn clue what was going on. This was the first time he had seen him in person since the palace. He hadn’t even tried to communicate with him, lest he get arrested and shot for real this time. There was absolutely no piece of conversation Akira had been able to catch onto. 

But instead of expressing any of that, he said “Yup,” and added, “Morgana’s just a little testy right now,” as an afterthought. 

“Wha—” Morgana stuttered, not hopping on to Akira’s new and very quickly improvised plan of  “well, might as well see where this goes.” If Akechi wasn’t shooting up Leblanc, then what could the harm be? He ignored the dam in the back of his mind keeping back all the certainly harmful ideas.

Akira acted like he didn’t hear Morgana, and tried to adopt a more relaxed pose. He hoped he’d realize, but if he didn’t, that would be okay too. Morgana was easy to play off, and Akira was nothing if not intrigued. 

His phone buzzed again. A little more fanatically. Sorry, Futaba. Right now wouldn’t be the best time to yank it out and explain himself. She’d need to hold on a little longer. 

Akechi grinned, looking satisfied. Akira considered that a big plus in the bullshitting direction.

“I see. Perhaps I’m on edge, too. Though really, with all the hoops I’ve jumped through for you, can you blame me? I’ve done a bit more than lounge around as a café pet.” 

Morgana’s tail shot straight up. “Don’t call me a pet!” 

Akechi chuckled, and Akira smiled a bit. It was very familiar, and Akira had to remember not to sink into the feeling. He tried to keep his head up and ready, since this could still be an elaborate scheme on Akechi’s part, but he’d already missed this. He’d already missed him. It wasn’t going to be easy to fight him again, if it came down to it. 

Akechi leaned down to Akira’s level. Akira, in turn, propped his chin up on his fist. Performative, but natural. It made Akechi’s grin spread wider. 

“I’d like to speak with you privately, if you don’t mind?” Akechi said, syrupy and smooth.

Akira knew one thing for sure. Agreeing to this would be a very, very bad idea. Whatever trick Akechi had up his sleeve was a card none of them had seen before, and one that no one had anticipated. 

But there was something weird going on. There were better and more efficient methods of going out for Akira’s head than this. Akechi didn’t seem like the type to bother with small talk, especially not after he’d already tried to kill him once. His motives were already known, so there was unquestionably something up. 

And Akira couldn’t deny how excited he was getting, either.

“Sure,” he said, earning himself a pointed look from Morgana and another flurry of texts. He ignored them both in favor of his swelling suspicions. He decided he would take this as far as it could go. Who knows, this could save their necks, even. 

Akechi stepped back a bit. “Then lead the way.” 

Akira scooted out of his chair and rolled his shoulders back. Morgana was looking back and forth between them frantically. 

“Wait, what? Where’re you going?” Morgana stammered, his tail now flicking nervously. “You’re gonna go with him? Alone?” 

Akira tried to give him a confident look, that he knew was probably not going to do Morgana any favors. “Watch the café for me.” 

“Huh!?” 

The two of them walked upstairs, leaving Morgana to fend for the café himself. Akira did feel bad, but it wasn’t like he could sit him down and explain his plan (that “plan” being basically nonexistent anyway) with Akechi around. It might be easier to do this on his own, too. Akechi was notoriously difficult to figure out, and he’d need to be on the lookout for any stray hint he could get. 

Akira sat down on the foot of his bed and, to his surprise, Akechi joined him there. They were shoulder to shoulder, though not quite touching. Akechi tended to keep his distance, so if there were any concrete indicators that he was acting up right now, this was one.

Akechi set his briefcase down in front of them. He gave way a long exhale, and Akira could literally watch the tension leave his shoulders. It was nice to see if he was being honest. 

They were silent for a little while. It was almost a nervous quiet, but not in a jarring way. It was light and anticipating. An all around pleasing mood, which made it hard for Akira to stay on his toes. 

“I appreciate you putting up with my antics,” Akechi started, breaking their shared silence. He didn’t meet his eyes. “But you can imagine this hasn’t been the easiest cover up.” 

Akira didn’t reply. He needed to know more before he tried to make a counter. Akechi was smart and observant, and Akira knew that if he slipped up that this could turn sour. Though, that was a sound start. More confirmation that Akechi for whatever reason did not think Akira had died.

He continued. “I didn’t think you’d listen when I asked you to keep from contacting me. Though I’m glad you did, because I think there’s a chance I’ve been hacked.” 

Akira almost flinched, thinking about how that hacking was definitely the work of Futaba. He was surprised Akechi had noticed. Though, he’d probably argue something among the lines of you can never be too thorough, to which Akira would laugh in his face, him being the biggest loose end that had ever escaped his grasp. 

He thought more on the first half of his spiel. Akechi had, allegedly, asked him to do something. He wracked his brain for any memory of a conversation they’d had like that. Akira was prone to hanging on to their interactions. It seemed really unlikely that he would miss something so important. And even while he’d been drugged in the interrogation room, he had been more than aware enough to remember that Akechi had never paid him a visit. The only “Akira” Akechi had seen was his cognitive form. 

That train of thought caught Akira’s attention. His cognitive form?

Akechi carried on undisturbed. “That’s why I didn’t text you before I came, by the way. I’ve been too busy to get it checked out. And your identity being revealed is too big of a risk for the both of us.” 

Akira was hardly listening. He thought he might be onto something. If their plan had gone accordingly, then the last time Akira had seen Akechi was in the palace. But the last time Akechi saw, or thought he saw Akira, was in the interrogation room. 

“I understand that I’m the reason you ended up in that situation, but you know we can use this position to our advantage, don’t you?” 

Which meant, whatever last interaction Akechi remembered he had with Akira was actually with the cognitive form of him in Sae Nijiima’s cognition. 

“We probably share a similar goal now, anyway. Though, don’t think I’m going to change my stance just like that. I have a way I plan to go about things.” 

Akechi should’ve killed that cognitive form of Akira. But there could be a chance that wasn’t the case, no matter how small. And if that was so, then… 

“I am willing to make a sort of compromise with you. But, compromise means both sides are satisfied, so you must also let me have my own leeway.” 

What had the cognitive Akira done with Akechi that Akira didn’t know about?

“...Akira-kun? Are you alright?” 

Akira jolted. He looked at Akechi straight in the eye. What had he been saying? He’d gotten too lost in his own thoughts. 

Akira blinked a couple times. Yes, he was fine. Start there. 

“Uh, yeah,” he said, which only made Akechi look more suspicious. Okay, shit. He needed a reason why he’d been spacing out. “No, I am, it's just… um. It’s nice to see you again, is all.” 

Which wasn’t a lie. He was very happy Akechi was here with him. Nothing had stung more than his betrayal. The idea that they’d found a way to come to an understanding was fantastic. But that was like a single match in a dark tunnel. Figuring out his cognitive form had done something to convince Akechi to (...probably?) not kill him was great; but making this work was going to take more effort than that. 

His reply got more of a reaction out of Akechi than expected. It made him gulp and look down at his hands. 

“Ah, well. Yes, it’s good to see you too. I must say it was a relief to see you had made it out just fine. Not that I expected any less.” 

He was fiddling with his fingers a bit. Akira fixated onto the motion. A nervous habit? Why was he nervous? He’d never really seen him like this before. Which could mean, maybe, his cognitive form had? 

Okay, he was not about to be jealous of a cognition of himself. He didn’t even know what he’d done in there. Jumping to conclusions was the wrong way of going about this. 

He tried thinking about what he’d told Sae-san, but that night had gone by in a haze. He must’ve given off some sort of impression to her that made the cognition figure out a way to dispel Akechi’s attempted murder. Maybe it would be better to think what he might say while on a load of drugs. 

Not... an encouraging thought. He could’ve said almost anything if that was the standard. Had he convinced her that he was a stellar conman? Or, like, a ninja? If he made it out of this interaction alive and well he’d have to give her a call. Maybe it would be a little awkward, but he’d done worse. 

It was still silent between the two of them. Okay, new goal. Akira only needed to last long enough that he could excuse himself to use the phone. The way this was going, he would probably be fine. Akechi mentioned he was busy, so he’d probably be on his way soon anyway. 

Akechi sighed and tucked his arms into himself, making no moves to give up his spot. Akira wondered if he could bring up work or something to get him to go. He felt bad forcing him out, but hurt feelings didn’t matter much when it was his life on the line. Though he looked kind of… delicate (was that the right word? He didn’t know. Less stable than usual, maybe. Not to say he usually gave off emotionally steady vibes) at the moment. Maybe he could make him lunch or something to make up for it. Assuming they’d get that far. 

Before Akira could try and really nicely kick him out, Akechi filled the silence again.

“I know this is presumptuous of me to say, but perhaps have you not picked up on my motive for making myself known to you?” 

How many times could Akira think ah, shit today? Yup, you guessed it Akechi, Akira had absolutely no idea why he had come to Leblanc. He couldn’t exactly just say that. Especially since Akechi seemed almost fragile (was that the right word? Eh.) right now. Like the question had some hidden meaning. He’d always been one for games, but this was a different side to Akechi. 

“What do you mean?” Akira asked, deciding that this was the most ambiguous answer he could give. He leaned forward onto his knees, and it made Akechi tense up. 

He looked away. “Don't get any ideas. I simply need to understand your… stance on the matter, first.” 

His tone was conflicted (was it? Fuck. Words, Akira, find the right ones). And he’d swear up and down his ears were pink. That was new. Not conflicting, though. 

“You wanna tell me yours first, detective?” Akira grinned. Maybe teasing was the way to go. Nothing unnatural about it; he had joked with him all the time before. He hoped his confidence would outshine his being utterly clueless.  

“I’d rather your opinion, actually,” said Akechi, the pink tinting his cheeks now. “Do not tell me I came all this way for nothing.” 

He was as difficult as ever. Not that Akira minded. He wondered how far he could push it. 

“You know, I was pretty drugged up. I might need a little hint, here.” 

Akechi turned and glared at him. “Whatever enjoyment you’re getting out of this isn’t going to last.” 

It had always proved pretty amusing to poke fun at him. Akira really had missed their bits of banter. He still remembered feeling so low whenever he thought about where they’d been headed. Akira was pleased to know he’d been a little right, and a little wrong. Right enough for the thrill, wrong enough for the aftermath. 

“I mean it. I have no idea where we left off,” he said, making his tone something baited. He knew he wouldn’t get away with it, but it was always worth a try. 

Akechi narrowed his eyes further. “You know I don’t trust you.” 

“I don’t trust you either,” Akira replied with a cool head. “Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” 

Akechi smirked. “I don’t owe you a damn thing.” 

Akira sat back up. Had anyone ever gotten anywhere without a little playful prying? “You’re not getting an answer out of me unless I get something to work with.” 

A short moment of silence hung. Akechi must’ve been considering (considering felt close. It was on the tip of his tongue) something. They were staring at each other. Before this, Akira had barely noticed how deeply red Akechi’s eyes were. He could tell something was going on behind them, processing (maybe?), evaluating (he was always doing that, though), thinking. 

“You are the worst kind of tease, you know,” he said. 

And then his lips were on Akira’s. 

Oh. 

(Okay.) 

 Goddamn. 

Akira was the type who prided himself on quick thinking. He could be up on his feet in no time, ready to pounce at a moment's notice. So now, while his mind froze at temperatures below sub zero, his body was more than happy to return the kiss, keeping only his last remaining pieces of competence shining loud and proud. 

Had he expected a kiss? No. Not at all. 

Was he upset about it? Also no. 

They broke apart for a moment, and Akira tried very hard not to let his shock show. When Akechi’s eyes lightly opened, they must’ve been pleased with whatever they saw, because a coy grin spread across his face. And what could’ve been some relief, too. 

“Satisfied, now?” he asked. 

Akira was left with two options (well, not really, but he pretended that was the case): One, was to tell Akechi there must’ve been a misunderstanding and that, boy, he sure was glad Akechi hadn’t murdered him, and just maybe they could work all this out over a cup of coffee. Go downstairs and talk through this, no guns or knives, just two boys and a cat and some curry, too. Hey Akechi, no hard feelings, but not this time around, buddy. 

Or, there was the ever present option two:  

“Not yet,” Akira hummed, and leaned back in for another. 

It was longer, and deeper this time. Akira pushed further, ignoring the adamant pain in his jaw from his bruise. Akechi squirmed underneath him in surprise. They started slow and easy. Akira turned and put one hand on Akechi’s waist. For a moment Akechi’s hands were nowhere, before settling on the back of Akira’s neck, tentative but secure. 

Akira decided that he’d forget about what his cognitive form may or may not have done for now. He was going to keep enjoying this. There was an inkling telling him this was probably his sought after answer, given Akechi’s welcoming reaction. How his cognitive self achieved this would be a mystery forever, but man, what a guy the version of himself in Sae-san’s head was. Atta boy. 

It did occur to Akira that the phone call he’d planned to give her might’ve turned out more

than uncomfortable. A smooch or two with Akechi was a much better method to figuring this out, among other things. He wondered if it would be inappropriate to thank her. Probably. 

He pushed again, but this time was met with some force. They were leaning into each other now, already breathing heavy and taking whatever pauses they could to gasp for breath. Akira slid his hand higher onto Akechi’s side, and with a tug he grabbed a fistful of his jacket to pull him in closer. Akechi’s fingers stayed pressed into the nape of Akira’s neck, but every so often would climb a bit higher towards his hair. 

Akira put one hand on Akechi’s chest and pulled them apart for a moment. Akechi looked confused, and a bit concerned when Akira took the second to massage his jaw with his other hand. But as he applied force onto Akechi, he got the picture and started to lay down, and even loosened his tie. Akira swung his leg over his body, straddling him and earning a quiet, “Oh,” before planting his forearms over Akechi’s head and closing the space between them. 

Akechi’s hands looped around Akira’s arms, and ended up taking their place back in his hair, getting wrapped and tangled in the curls. It was heavier now, and hotter, as they moved in sync and melted deeper into each other. 

Akira had no idea how much time passed. He stayed there in the moment, blissfully at a loss but unarguably having one of the best afternoons he could’ve asked for. 

But then, of course, rang a voice so shrill and so loud, he realized it was possible this hadn’t really been the time.

“HUH!?” 

Morgana sounded completely exasperated. He was standing on the top of the stairs, eyes wide and his mouth hung open. Entirely still. He must’ve gotten worried about Akira having been up here with Akechi for so long without so much as a word. 

The three of them stared at each other in silence. No one made a move. Morgana was obviously processing something he didn’t know how to understand. Akira felt a little nervous to look down and see whatever expression Akechi was making. If murder hadn’t been going through his head before, it surely was now. 

Morgana stumbled. “What’re you— you’re— Akira…?” 

Akira was going to once again try and flex his bullshitting mastery, but instead Akechi very loudly cleared his throat, and lightly shoved Akira back until he could sit upright. 

“I, ah, really should be getting back, anyway,” he said, fixing his tie while Akira finished awkwardly climbing off of him. “I wasn’t joking when I told you I was busy, after all.” 

His voice was stable and clear, but he was flushed pink and refusing to make any sort of eye contact. Akira decided not to comment, at least not while Morgana was still here. His poor cat seemed a little traumatized as it was; he didn’t need to witness any witty flirting. 

That wasn't the finisher, though. No end in sight for Akira’s day of twists and turns. A few moments later none other than Futaba bursted upstairs, out of breath and with a wild look in her eyes. It occurred to him that he shouldn’t have totally ignored her texts. 

“Is everyone still alive!” she shouted, arms wide in front of her. She glanced between the group, and relaxed her pose when she saw the very mundane-looking scene in front of her. Thank god Akira wasn’t on top of Akechi anymore. Morgana seeing was one thing, Futaba was another. He didn’t even want to think about what Sojiro would do if he found out Akira had made Futaba witness teenage hormones at their finest. 

She slumped down and looked at Morgana. “What the heck, Mona,” she sighed, looking a little embarrassed. “What’d you scream for? I got all worried.” 

Morgana tried to justify himself. “Because of them! They were…” he trailed off. He was acting so sheepish. It occurred to Akira he may not actually know the word to describe what he’d just witnessed. He almost snorted, but had enough tact to realize that wouldn’t be so proper at the moment. He could laugh about it later. 

“‘They were’ what?” Futaba asked, turning and leering at the pair. Akechi was flattening his hair a little, and Akira was trying to remain as stone faced as possible. She scowled.

Akira felt like he could see the gears turning in her head, which was a bad sign. More of an awkward sign, really, because Akira didn’t actually care much if they knew. He was gonna tell them a slightly modified version of the story after he’d finished, anyway. 

Akechi, on the other hand, seemed like he absolutely would mind if this all unfurled in front of him. He stood up just a little too quickly to be casual, and straightened his jacket. 

“I’d ought to go now, then. Thank you for having me,” he said, adjusting his gloves. He picked up his briefcase and made his way for the exit, fast paced and wide steps. Akira watched him with entertainment, and Futaba’s eyes followed him every step of the way. 

He stopped in front of the staircase, and waited there for a moment. Akira wondered what he was gonna do. His mind worked in very particular ways, and Akira was surely interested in such a flustered (hm. Maybe that was it) version. 

He turned back and faced him head on. “I’ll come again. I’d argue that didn’t quite serve as a suitable answer.” 

Futaba’s eyes darted between them. “What do you mean ‘answer,’” she said, furrowing her eyebrows a little more as she tried harder to connect the dots. 

Akira nodded in reply, and Akechi smiled something sweet, but just about devious, too. He walked out of view without another word, and the room was silent until the chime of the door opening and closing signaled his exit. 

Futaba did not waste a second. She zipped over to Akira, followed closely behind by Morgana, who leapt onto the bed. 

Futaba squatted down. “Okay, Akira. First of all, what. And then second of all, hey, what.”

Akira wasn’t exactly sure what to reply. Hot damn, while appropriate, would probably not exactly satisfy Futaba. More than anything he’d probably gross her out. And spark a million more questions. 

She must’ve been confused for a number of reasons, very much like Morgana, and like himself too. Ultimately, yeah, he had no idea why he’d just had a passionate make out session with Goro fucking Akechi, of all people. He admitted that it did go swimmingly, though. And he obviously wouldn’t say no to a round two. Or three. Honestly, why limit himself by putting a number on it. 

This was an unexpected turn of events, for sure, but definitely an advantageous one. Genuinely and acutely having Akechi on their side was not a problem at all. And occasionally steaming it up on his bed was, more than anything, an improvement to their previous relationship. Akira couldn't say he minded one bit. 

It was dangerous, too. He needed to give Sae-san a call still, no matter how weird it might turn out. And he had to let everyone else know that, for whatever reason, Akechi was willing to work with them, to at least some sort of extent. That Akechi was pretty mellow right now, and did not think for a second he’d gone through with the murder. 

Akira had to be doubtful of him. He didn’t have a choice in that. But he decided it was more than worth seeing where this would take him. Not to mention way more fun. 

Futaba sat staring at him with beady eyes from the floor. Morgana looked no less shaken than before, but was waiting impatiently for Akira’s answer, too. 

There was really no use lying. 

“Well,” Akira started, shrugging his shoulders and feeling just a bit greedy. “I think I have a boyfriend now.” 

[prettyflyshyguy]

Teehee what if I was to drop most of the C Virus AU Fanfic CH3 right now at 12:28AM... Unless.

Unedited/draft Ch1, Ch2 first half, Ch2 second half, for your perusal, and here’s a very unedited first chunk of CH3 that isn’t quite finished because I have work tomorrow but it involves interaction with Ada and I’m sitting here all :)))))))))) while writing so I hope you enjoy!

Perched atop a building, he scanned the area below. As he was making his way towards the area where Simmons should be, he had heard gunfire. Despite his grizzly appearance, if someone was in trouble he could still find a way to help, surely. A street facing door was suddenly kicked open and a figure stumbled out, with a crossbow of all things in their hands. 

‘No. Way.’ he thought as he carefully descended from the roof, wanting to get a clearer look. 

The survivor fired a shot at something inside the building, before ducking back. A small explosion occurred and a BOW, screaming and flailing stumbled out. It was more grotesque than the other C-Virus monstrosities he’d seen so far, and it looked like it had a chainsaw for an arm. It screamed in agony while the survivor readied another shot. Carefully maneuvering himself behind some rubble, the light from another small explosion from the crossbow’s bolt illuminated the survivors face for a brief moment, fully confirming his suspicions. 

It was Ada, for sure. At least he thought so. She was wearing the same clothes as when he and Helena saw her in the catacombs. The mystery was still there however; which one was the real Ada Wong? Was there even a singular one? Was she just switching outfits and motives in some twisted game?

Flicking a glance back in her direction, she was staring down at the body of the BOW lying smoking on the floor, inert. He shuffled, ever so carefully, avoiding making any noise so he could tactically reposition to try and make contact. He stiffened as he felt the vibration of rubble shift under his foot, a small amount of dirt and rocks crumbling. 

“Now what do we have here.”

Hoping if he kept still enough, she’d think no one was there, he held his breath. His heart rate increased as he heard the soft clack of her boots on the concrete approaching at a gentle pace, a bolt being loaded. No time to think.

Placing his hands on the ground, crouching back, he launched himself over the rubble, ignoring the sound of a bolt  whizzing just past his ear. Spotting a broken window one floor up a building, he leapt into it and backed up against the wall panting, just as another bolt narrowly missed its mark.

“Honey I didn’t have the time to deal with this overly enthusiastic fellow,”

He heard the sound of another bolt being loaded.

“So how about you help a girl out and make this quick and easy for both of us.”

The ‘thwip’ of a bolt pierced the air and one landed on the other side of the room. It bounced off the wall, fell to the floor and rolled slowly towards him. The head of the bolt looked large and blunt and had a small blinking red LED. He didn’t need to guess what it meant as the rate increased, and the bolt exploded in a flash of light and smoke. 

Ada stared at the cloud billowing out of the window, preparing another round for good measure. Her eyes narrowed as a few seconds passed, with no movement. She raised her weapon and aimed at where the window was, but it was barely visible now as the smoke had spread. 

Suddenly the creature leapt through the smoke with frightening speed, grabbing her arm and pushing it away as she shot the loaded bolt in a random direction. It ripped the crossbow out of her arm and backed up as she spun around to face it, reaching for her holster. 

Feeling nothing, her eyes widened as she noticed it was holding her handgun and crossbow. It tossed the bow aside gently, and with elegance she’d never seen from a BOW removed the magazine from the gun and dropped both parts either side of it. It maintained eye contact with her the entire time, its eyes were piercing and displayed a terrifying degree of human intelligence.

Covering up the fear in her head, she smiled.

“I can’t say I’ve ever met a man who’s tried this hard to get my attention.”

She started to pace slowly around as she drew a knife from her belt, the creature mimicked her pace as they circled. 

It began to raise its arms, she dove in with the knife and test jabbed to check its reflexes. It was fast, faster than her. 

Her expression turned stern. It backed up a few paces, eyes focused on her as she furiously walked closer brandishing the knife.

“I’m a very, busy, woman.” she grunted while slashing. “And I don’t, have the time, for stalkers.”

Whatever the hell she was dealing with, it clearly knew the basics of CQC. Dancing and ducking around her every swing and jab, although it made no attempt to hit her back. Suddenly its eyes flicked to something behind her, a distraction and an opening. She thrusted the knife forward but something grabbed her by the ankle and almost toppled her, one hand slamming into the ground, the other with the knife at the ready. Flicking her head to the source, the charred and burnt BOW with the chainsaw arm simply refused to die, it and had a vice grip around her right ankle. The sound of bone and flesh grinding louder and louder as it lifted its twisted machination of a chainsaw arm up as the teeth and bone started spinning again. 

She looked back to the creature in front of her only to find it gone, suddenly turning back to the one grabbing her ankle, her eyes widened as she saw the second creature holding the chainsaw-arm back, with one foot on the BOW’s back. The charred living corpse let out a chilling howl as the creature pinning it down pulled its arm further back, dislocating the mutated tendons and bone, ripping muscle. The bone-tooth blade stopped spinning and the vice grip loosened. Ada sprung back up and turned around to face the creature that by all intends, spared her. It was panting while staring at the charred corpse, seemingly ensuring it was truly dead this time. She took the opportunity and sprung towards it, holding the knife in both hands.

At almost the last second before the knife hit its chest it flung one arm up to push hers back, and grabbed one of her wrists with its other, stopping her completely in her tracks. She grimaced and stared up at its face, meeting its eyes. There was almost a pleading look to them. Its grip on her wrist was firm, but not painful, she kept the knife pointed at its chest but shifted her weight so not as much force was pushing her into its arms. Despite the overcast sky, a small break in the clouds shifted and moonlight illuminated the scene and the creature's face. That’s when she noticed its unmistakable hair, the soft blue eyes. The fact it didn’t even lay a scratch on her. 

“...Leon?”

His face softened and the concern was replaced with the beginnings of a warm smile, he loosened his grip on her arms and started to relax-

Her knee struck his stomach with frightening force, he stumbled back with a grunt.

“That’s for almost breaking my crossbow.”

He smiled slightly as he cocked his head to one side, probably deserved that. He gently collected her sidearm and magazine, grateful to find out despite his hands shifting he was still able to comfortably reload the gun with ease. She collected her crossbow, a pleased smile graced her face as she examined it and found it was not damaged.

“So, cat got your tongue?” her playful tone hid a mixture of contradicting emotions. 

She turned back to Leon who had a hand extended, holding her sidearm out. Taking it back, she took a moment to actually look at him. He always ‘stood tall’ around her, she noted he was even taller now and actually towered over her with an air of confidence after managing to disarm her so carefully. It was hard to maintain a certain level of composure, he had hardly changed and the thought was warm but looking at what had happened was painful. His eyes were exactly the same but she could barely return his gaze without her composure breaking. 

He shuffled slightly, then opened his mouth. Hoping something normal sounding would come out. 

“Aa…” 

The more he tried to force it, the more it hurt his throat. His shoulders shrunk inwards slightly as he turned his head to face away from her, the embarrassment and shame of the situation returning. He didn’t want to face her like this, he was regretting even trying to talk to h-

“Did Simmons do this?”

Giving up the vocal option, he shook his head. He shifted towards a wall, leaning comfortably facing her, with a flick of the wrist he pointed a finger briefly towards her, then folded his arms.

“... It was the bitch in the blue dress, wasn’t it.”

He tilted his head to one side slightly, his expression stern. 

“After everything I’ve seen, it’d be pretty cold of me to just say ‘it’s complicated’ don’t you think?” she joked with a forced smile.

No one was laughing. Leon had a very high level of tolerance for her usual manner of speaking, cryptic and tangential, not today however. His entire life changed the day they met in Racoon City but this blows that experience well out of the water.

“I don’t know who she is, but Simmons made her using the C-Virus. Starting off as a bootleg version of me but it seems like she’s got big plans of her own now.”

His stare was piercing. 

“I’m sorry.” 

His face softened as he raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Simmons became… A little too attached to me. I wasn’t interested in playing by his rules, let’s just say he took it a little personally when I didn’t reciprocate his feelings.”

She paced around the courtyard as she spoke.

“I don’t know how he did it, but his obsession resulted in him using the C-Virus to create a very imperfect clone of me. A bootleg Ada Wong if you will.”

Leon snorted in amusement, but he maintained his stance. Closely watching as she stood still and looked back at him.

“I’m not working for Simmons. We’re on the same side, I promise.”

Then who do you work for?

The question echoed in his mind. The one time Ada talks with him at length, he can barely say her name. He looked away, frustrated and ashamed of the circumstance. Hearing her walk closer he turned slightly only to feel the warmth of her hand brush up against his cheek, his eyes flicking towards it and back to her as they widened slightly. His arms fell to his side as her other hand gently rested on his arm. Despite the transformation he still felt the temperature of his face increase, not expecting anyone he knew would even be able to accept what happened to him and be so gentle, especially not Ada. 

“I came here to clean up the mess Simmons started but now… Now it’s personal.”

[agathaarts]

Spidersonas forever!!!!!! Though she’s become less of a Spidersona and more her own weird spiderspinoff at this point, complete with a name change.

Some more Itsy stuff outta basically nowhere! Her spider-human hybrid form is where she’s most “comfortable” and ultimately where she winds up resting most of the time, though she’s still a pretty competent were-spider-shapeshifter-sort. She has a number of different and modifiable outfits, perks of living with a seamstress, and....I also wanted to draw a bunch of her, uh, rogue’s gallery together, though admittedly the Black Cats could be considered friends before long. Or at least, associates.

This is far from all of them, but these are the guys I have concrete looks for at least! Maybe I’ll do one of her allies soon. As is, most of her issues stem from the monsterous OZCORP, the company that not only created her, but continues to create it’s own forces, meddling in the nature of reality to do so!

Tiny blurbs below the cut for each of them, and if you’d like to know more about any of ‘em...let me know! I have an unfortunate amount of ideas for this AU!

ITSY-BITSY AKA SPIDER-WOMAN aka Aggie Appleton. While working for the unscrupulous OzCorp, unlucky intern Aggie Appleton is caught in the backlash of an experiment that fuses her with unstable realmatter and the test subject- a hyper-adaptive spider created using the same unstable realmatter! Now, she fights to protect her city from OzCorp’s increasingly dangerous experiments and the beings created by their experiments as ITSY BITSY aka THE INCREDIBLE SPIDER-WOMAN!

THE GREEN GOBLIN aka Norma Osborne. The CEO and leader of OZcorp, Norma Osborne has sacrificed everything for her company and their work, being a gifted and brilliant scientist in her own right. It has cost her family ties, friends, her social life, and now- her sanity and stability of form. Able to transform into the corrosive GREEN GOBLIN, she becomes a destructive force of chemical reactions and decay, with no more limits standing in her way! At least, until that annoying spider shows up...

THE KLYNTAR, represented by units VENOM and CARNAGE ~ Inter-dimensional beings, symbiotes (or, perhaps, parasites) who feed off of living beings, the KLYNTAR are horrors from beyond who’ve made a deal with Norma Osborne: a place to stop and feed in exchange for OzCorp to poke and prod and take samples to use their unstable realmatter forms to create new techniques and horrors! Of course, once mold gets in....it’s almost impossible to get it out, even if said mold is far more than anything native to Earth!

BLACK CAT is a mystery. A force of corporate espionage, a cat thief, a rumor, and mystery, a funny joke to poke fun at unsolved thefts and leaked information- of course, it’s very hard to find Black Cat. They slip in and out of secure warehouses, files, and companies with nary a trace, virtually impossible to spot. Especially unless you know they’re not one person, but three. At least, that Itsy-Bitsy comes to know of...

THE BUGS are a group of ne’er-do-wells who took up an offer to be bonded with biotech armor by OzCorp, all for their own various reasons, and now they’re beholden to OzCorp...and on an impressive payroll, that motivates being guards, bullies, and thieves as necessary.

SCORPION aka Mac Gargan. Once a private detective of disrespectful status, Mac Gargan was hardly in a place to turn down OzCorp’s offer after befalling tragedy and desperation. Unlike his fellow bugs, he tends to question a lot of his commands, and is well aware of the quote “hinky crap” going down behind the lab doors of OsCorp- but the pay grade is nice. And the benefits, well, the benefits are killer. Besides, he’s gotten to know the personality of his symbiotic armor well...and wouldn’t abandon him back to OzCorp’s nonexistent mercies by quitting.

BEETLE aka Abby Jenkins. Previously an engineer with white collar criminal aspirations, Abby Jenkins was hardly in a place to turn down OzCorp’s offer after befalling tragedy and desperation. Having bonded well with her symbiotic armor, she’s enjoying the steady work and respect she finds with OzCorp, and gets to spend her spare time tinkering with projects amongst brilliant inventors she’d have never had a chance to rub elbows with before!

FLY aka Richie Deacon. A career small-time criminal, Richie Deacon spent most of his life in and out of prison, halfway houses, and shelters, and was hardly in a place to turn down OzCorp’s offer after befalling a particular tragedy and desperation. Now they don’t care much about the work they do, happy to do whatever OzCorp asks in exchange for living a cushy life, even if it means having to wear the gross symbiotic armor. Still, small price to pay to fly!

SHR- i mean -SHOCKER aka Herman Schultz. Another career criminal, Herman Schultz worked as muscle for a few crime families in various cities, before getting bounced out of almost all of them and directly into OzCorp’s loving arms. No tragedy or desperation needed to convince him to get into a suit of powered armor (even if it’s more or less a giant lobster as far as he’s concerned) and start breaking things at a whim! Besides, everything at OzCorp is so damn weird, he’s never been more entertained anywhere in his life!

ELECTRO aka Max Voltage. Once one of OzCorp’s many test animals, an electric “eel” cobbled together out of various types of electric fish and a hodgepodge of other animals, Max taking on human traits was, well...an accident, but a happy one. Now settled into a form distinctly human, with intelligence to match (though some would argue otherwise) Max is capable of incredible feats of electrical manipulation and sensitivity beyond any creature in it’s creation!

DOCTOR OCTOPUS aka Octavia Otto. Respected young researcher and lead scientist of many OzCorp projects, Octavia Otto was caught in the backlash of an experiment that ultimately fused her with a number of test subjects, hyper-adaptive octopuses...except she’s continued to mutate and change, in ways nobody else can quite pin down (but it’s okay, she’s keeping rigorous, detailed notes on the process! For science!) and has assisted OzCorp’s goals since, happy to have a constant source of supplies and test subjects to work with. Her and Aggie Appleton had...history, before this all went down, too, so that’s not awkward at all!

RHINO aka Aleksei Sytsevich. Arriving in America as Anna Kravenoff’s bodyguard, Aleksei found himself out of work before long as Anna hastily shucked her father’s protections of her and kicked him unceremoniously out of her life. Once OzCorp decided he’d make a fine test subject, well, he’s been a professional mook for most of his life and didn’t have many complaints about the improved size, strength, and toughness. Aleksei may put on a blithe, dopey exterior, but he’s far too controlled to be an actual fool...which makes him quite dangerous, even if he only does as OzCorp asks.

THE SPOT aka Joon-Woo Ohnn. The Spot’s creation is a sort of mystery, even to himself and to OzCorp. An experiment, a failure, and...Dr. Ohnn is still certainly alive and aware, but some sort of bizarre 3D shadow cast by, well, wherever he is. While unable to speak, Ohnn is still fully capable of serving OzCorp, with his ability to function as a series of wormholes and perform strange acts of teleportation.

MYSTER.IO aka Mysterio aka thecrystalball aka The Mystery aka ??? aka aka aka aka aka..... Myster.io is a digital character- either a face for someone distant and anonymous, or many someones, or perhaps some sort of self-aware AI, Mysterio’s story changes every time he tells it and that’s just how it should be! This bizarre digital being pops up on people’s devices and is an information gatherer and peddler, always happy to tweak reality to better suite someone’s needs for a price.

KRAVEN the HUNTRESS aka Ana Kravenoff aka Kraven Jr. aka Lady Anastasia Kravenoff. Kraven the Hunter was a star, a legend- a man who battled beasts and travelled to impossible places and rose to reclaim an ancient family legacy, he was famous and infamous alike, and regardless of if you loved or hated him- he was a household name across the globe. Ana would like that. Ana might have been shipped off to America to live a carefully tailored “normal” life by her father and his estate, but Ana has aspirations that greatly outstrip those of her brothers and a goal to match her father’s infamy someday! But until she can secure a show, she hunts monsters for YouTube and enjoys her modest cult following- especially since she’s found a way to attend college in a sleepy Midwestern City that just happens to have a lot of monster-related issues. Her current target? Spider-Woman!

[land-of-classpects-and-analysis]

Mage of Mind

There are many puzzles, riddles, and in general countless problems we face throughout our lives, but not just any problem. Specifically, there will be problems that can’t be solved through any physical, unplanned acts of courageousness nor can they be solved by trying the same method over and over again, hoping that something will change. Unfortunately it is true that many points in our existence, there will be problems where we will have to stop and truly think, observe all of our options, and plan out each step that comes after another. Instead of taking someone by the hand and dragging them to the dance floor, bumping and knocking over many people along the way, it would be a situation where it would be wiser to observe and scan all of the available options, good and bad. There will be those who are near experts at this, almost to a frightening degree, while there are also those who will rush at what they think to be the best option only to be painfully proven wrong. It could be argued that those bound to the Aspect of Mind would be the best dancers of all - capable of sweeping the best partner off their feet, and seeing every possible outcome for their actions. While this may be true for some of them, there are also those who may not wish to dance at all, or simply those who do not know how to dance - at least not properly.

The Mage of Mind is someone who often struggles to wrap their head around their Aspect when it comes to understanding it. How can someone so easily see and know all the proper steps to do, especially to avoid stepping on their partner’s feet? Why must they already have some knowledge of their Aspect, but never have it be enough to do anything Mind related correctly? So many of their Mind-bound brethren seem to have so much more luck than them, and yet here they are, lost in the labyrinth of their thoughts with no one to guide them. They most likely are the one standing at the punch bowl, or even sitting on the bleachers, hoping to learn something by watching the crowd in front of them. Little do they know that they must not only put themself within the crowd to understand, but they must be willing to chase after different ways of dancing, whether it be by dancing with a partner they know and trust or attempting to traverse and dare themself at trying all types of different things on their own. Mind-bound are known to have an ever-shifting identity, after all, as building up their own rationale is far more important to them than creating a concrete sense of self. As such, the Mage of Mind is someone who may become quite the Jack-Of-All-Trades in the dances life will present to them, capable of sensing, knowing, and anticipating what type of beat and music they will be expected to dance along to. Because of this, they must not only learn all the different ways of dancing, but that dancing is something that can lead so many others to understand and know each other far better than anything else.

However, this is a point a little later in the Mage of Mind’s life, most importantly during a time where their Aspect has already revealed itself to the Mage themself. Let’s go back a few pages in their life and examine as briefly as we can what the Mage of Mind looked like before this epiphany of dancing and being surrounded by music. Whether it’s their childhood or their teens, early, middle, or late, there is a common thread that will always be attached to these Mages of Mind: they rarely, if ever, think of the consequences of their actions, and as such tend to neglect planning ahead for anything. They are someone who probably found themself stuck between many rocks and hard places as they grew up, but never enough to fully make them realize how much of a presence their Aspect has in their life. If anything, the Mage of Mind would try to avoid anything that involved a lot of hard-thinking, especially in terms of planning things out in a more thorough fashion. Don’t misunderstand this as the Mage of Mind being incapable of having great intelligence, though, as there are most definitely many Mages of Mind who are exceptionally smart. While a Mage of Mind may be an excellent student in school, if only for certain topics such as social studies and science, maybe even English, chances are they would immensely struggle with things such as projects and/or, to name one specific subject, math. Math is something that involves quite a lot of planning and deep thinking - having to memorize all the different formulas, patterns, and what will happen next if one were to multiply instead of divide. Projects would be a similar struggle for the Mage of Mind, as chances are that they have many, many unfinished projects, and the ones they have started on are often spontaneous and lack an overall sense of plotting and structure.

While the Mage of Mind may struggle with these certain things in terms of academics, this still would not be enough for the Mage to become acquainted, scarred, and marked by their Aspect. Where, or when, does this Aspect Awakening happen then? To put it in simple terms, at least before diving further into it: the Mage of Mind would be put into a situation where they must plan ahead, take into account every movement and decision they make, and think of the consequences that may come from it. After all, they can easily cheat on a Math exam or worksheet - pay someone to do it, copy off of someone, look up the answer sheet, whatever means they would deem easier than simply doing the work themself. Of course, they may also choose to simply flunk out of the class or even drop out of school if they’re stubborn or insistent enough. With the situation wherein they are confronted with their Aspect for the first time, though, it will be one where they can’t just run away or ignore it. Every action they take within that moment matters so greatly, that it would be of no surprise to hear that, unfortunately, this most likely is not a dance the Mage will execute properly. They may try their hardest to think about all their options, in the process freezing themself where they are, making them unable to act out whatever plan they have been creating on the spot. It’s a trap that many Mind-bound fall for, and unfortunately for the Mage of Mind, it is a trap they are destined to spring so that they may finally see what happens when someone who does not know how to dance is pulled onto the dance floor abruptly. People get hurt, and no amount of apologies will fix the damage their inactiveness brought. 

It is uncertain what the situation is exactly that leaves the Mage finally aware of their Aspect’s presence, but this is only because it is a situation that would vary from Mage to Mage. After all, not every Mage of Mind comes from the same walk of life, and while they may share a Classpect, no two Mages of Mind are guaranteed to be the same. Because of this, there will be some Mages of Mind who will try to avoid their Aspect at all costs after their initial encounter with it - and especially with how it left them scarred. Once a Mage becomes aware of their Aspect, though, it is an unfortunate truth that they will never stop being at least being conscious of how large of a presence it has in their everyday life. Everyone is constantly having their own dances, memorizing the script to a speech, planning out all of their responses for a job interview, trying to come up with a plan b to z in case something horrible goes wrong during this date, and so, so much more. It’s suffocating for the Mage of Mind, but there will be some who would rather live in this constant state of discomfort rather than seek out a better understanding - find more knowledge - as to why their Aspect works they it does, and why it so lovingly calls to them at every possible direction. As for the Mages of Mind who have a far tougher spirit, and are willing to allow themself to suffer more horrible events in order to come to a better understanding of or through their Aspect, they will come to the same crossroads that so many other Mages have come across. Will they be one who seeks out people, having many different dance partners along their journey so that they may learn everyone’s unique ways of dance, or will they simply try to find ways to create not only their own dance moves, but also pick and choose what they learn and see from their fellow dancers?

There are the Mages of Mind who will go with the former option, deciding to step into the crowd and find someone who will take the time to teach them how to dance their own dance. Which is to say, they are the ones who seek out knowledge through Mind. This journey will start with the Mage of Mind searching for their Aspect within other people - trying to discover and learn all there is to know about them and their motives. These Mages are the ones who show great promise in becoming one of the most empathetic of all their fellow Mages of Mind. When faced with a problem that requires logic and deep-thinking, they will often look towards someone else and see what they would do in this situation. Whether this will be a very close friend of theirs, or someone they have hardly ever spoken to, if they are someone who offers great wisdom and unique, sometimes anecdotal advice, then the Mage of Mind will happily approach them and ask as many questions as they can. Chances are that they will rarely go back to the same person multiple times in a row in order to get this information, though, if only because they truly are someone who wishes to hear and know all sides, as well as use every possible resource around them. These Mages of Mind are those who believe everyone should have a chance to speak and tell their stories. What this means is that this approach towards people could lead them down the path of becoming a rather empathetic and understanding person, even if the person who has given their story is no true or proper hero. Because of this, though, some may say that the Mage of Mind is a rather gullible person, but that is only partially true.

In the beginning of their journey, these Mages of Mind may indeed fall prey to a few lies that may even land them in a few tricky and difficult situations. However, while this may bring some sense of suffering to the Mage - most importantly in terms of who they can rely on to give reasonable lessons in the dance of logic - these moments will also serve as valuable lessons in their journey. After are, they are ones who are attempting to seek out knowledge through the Minds - the logic and reasoning - of others, so even if they were to be tricked or even betrayed, all it would do is help to usher along the Mage of Mind further into reaching the final half of their journey. As the Mage has come to learn the different ways of dancing that people partake in, as well as why some of these people decided to create their own styles of dancing rather than going the traditional route, they have also started to culminate their own sense of Mind and style of dance. During the length of their own self discoveries and inquiries about other people’s Minds, two of the most important words that the Mage had clung onto would most certainly be “why” and “what”, as these questions would help to propel them towards a better understanding as to why people act the way they do, how they have created the landscape of their Minds, what causes them to make the decisions they make, along with so much more. For the final half of their journey, though, if they so desire to find all there is to know through Mind, they will have to look within themself and try to learn all there is left to know through their own Mind.

Equipped with their wits, instinct, and all that they have learned so far of their Aspect, venturing into the large, expansive labyrinth that is their own Mind is the only way for these Mages of Mind to truly complete their own journey. However, this feat may feel like a task far too grand and intimidating for some of the Mages to handle, and so they may decide it would be best for them to stop while they are ahead. There may not be any grand suffering in plan for these Mages, but they are most certainly the ones who will never be able to shine as brightly as they can. On top of that, they will also never come to be as understanding and patient as the Mages who did not turn or cower away from their true destiny. We are stuck within our heads our entire lives, yet how often do we take the time to stop what we are doing and look or reflect on the interior of our minds? Having doubts, fears, and anxieties do not exactly count as moments of reflection. No, what the Mage of Mind must truly do is walk into the depths of their mind until they reach their own roots of the tree so beautifully bloomed in their head, or perhaps it’s to wander the corridors of an underground tunnel system, winding, twisting, and turning like that of a worm or snake beneath the surface of the Earth. They must learn, know, and recognize their own Mind - their own reasoning and motives for why they do what they do. Only when they finally reach the heart, the core, the epicenter of all their own thoughts, the birthplace of their logic, morals, and reasoning will these Mages of Mind fully come to understand the ins and outs of not only their Mind, but everyone else’s Mind, as well.

However, that is for later on in the analysis. Let’s shift over the gaze to the Mages of Mind who seek out knowledge of Mind itself. They are the ones who look for any and all instances where they may observe and learn more about what their Aspect holds for them. While this may raise images of the Mage going to places such as libraries, lectures in schools, and other similar places, that could not be further from the truth. No, their Aspect would call them to places where they would be forced to learn and endure a series of trials and errors - punished for not knowing any better in regards to logic and being rational. They are the Mages who neglected and ran away from any place that presented a threat of having to deep-think and plan ahead of their moves, and now they must pay back all the debt they have built up over the years. A defining factor in their journey is that, at least in the beginning, they will be put into even more situations where they are destined to fail and be reprimanded for having not learned any better earlier in their life. To some people, this may seem like a path no reasonable person Mage would want to travel. The reason this is true is because these Mages of Mind are not reasonable people - they do not follow the rules set in front of them, and instead do whatever they wish, as long as it allows for them to avoid their Aspect. At least, that is how it was before they were marked and scarred by their Aspect, and have now become far more aware of its presence. Their Aspect is like that of a great shadow that is forever looming over them and their life, threatening to fall atop the Mage and crush them if they continue to ignore its presence. The Mage of Mind knows this, and so rather than try to run away and out from beneath its massive shadow, the Mage of Mind instead looks upon their Aspect, allowing for it to know that it has their attention. From that point onward, their Aspect - like that of a great bird - will call for the Mage to follow it from beneath its wing as it brings them to many places, people, and sights that are filled to the brim with the Mind Aspect. It is within these situations where the Mage of Mind will get to discover and learn more about their Aspect, as they witness all the different ways people can dance and live their lives. Which is to say, the Mage of Mind will look at these places or faces and learn more of what it means to be one of the Mind-bound. It is through these situations, as well, where they are faced with countless moments of trials and errors that they will eventually come to understand why a certain approach they may have tried a hundred times has never worked. Once they become knowledgeable of their mistakes will they be able to finally know and see more options available to them. If they were to be cornered by a dangerous person in an alleyway, many people may be quick to simply shout for help or try to attack the assailant, but these Mages of Mind may learn that it would simply be smarter to try and find a way to run away or talk the person down from whatever they had planned.

Further down their journey, they would slowly start to recognize the rhythms that occur in situations, much like the rhythms and beats that can be heard across multiple different songs. Because of this, the Mage of Mind may be someone who would learn to be far less quick to spring into action, and instead take time to eliminate all options until they come to realize what situation they are in exactly. For some Mages of Mind, they may even purposefully look for these problems and scenarios where they do have to think ahead, if only because they know it will help for them to make even further progress in their journey. This change in perspective may alarm some Mages of Mind, though, and so there will most definitely be a few of these Mages of Mind who try to avoid such scenarios of high stress with an even higher chance of failure. No matter how long the Mage of Mind may try to avoid their Aspect, though, it will always be there, looming above them and waiting for them to mess up. As the Mage of Mind comes to know more and more about their Aspect, though, and gains a better understanding of how it works, then they are the Mages of Mind who have a wonderful potential to be extremely quick-witted and be the most excellent people to go to for advice on how to handle a situation.

The Mage of Mind is someone who may have started out their life as someone believing they could simply get by without having to worry about planning ahead for anything, or not being the most logical or empathetic of people. Due to their Aspect eventually coming to reveal its most horrendous and cruel side, though, it is of no surprise that the Mage would be left unable to ever truly hide or run away from the all-encompassing shadow that is their Aspect. While their suffering during their journey differs between the Mages, with one group suffering a far more inner turmoil of facing themself and having to confront their own rationale for why they do the things they do, and the other seeming to have a near constant bittersweet streak of luck in regards to the situations they find themself in from day-to-day life - whether it is good luck or bad luck is simply up to the Mage of Mind to decide themself. However, through all of the struggles, trials, and tribulations, the Mage of Mind is one who has come out as, well, not an entirely changed and new person, but most definitely someone who is more knowledgeable and wise on how they approach problems and conflicts thrown at them. They’re far more patient, diplomatic, and understanding than they were before, which is most definitely something those who knew the Mage of Mind in the beginning of their journey are bound to take notice of. While they may not be any more mature, there is still an air of change to them that is undeniable. They’ve seen and learned how people around them dance, why they dance the way they do, and what it truly means to not themself but everyone around them. Making one wrong step on the dance floor can ruin not only the dance for their partner, but also for everyone else, as well; that is one of the most important things the Mage of Mind should have learned by the end of their journey.

Although it may be quite obvious, it would be unfair to not brush over what the powers of the Mage of Mind would entail. For the Mages of Mind who sought out knowledge through their Aspect, they are the ones who play a strong support role in their group, as well as showing great promise in being a mediator of disputes and the bringer of truth. In regards to being supportive of their friends, allies, and fellow teammates, they are someone who would look past any bias and prejudice one may have and instead only see a person for what they are: a person with a story to tell and a motive to give. Because of this, it is also why they would make an excellent mediator, as they are one who has an identity so often fluctuating that they would have no time to form any bias whatsoever. Do not mistake them for a gullible fool any longer, though, for although they are willing to hear out all sides of the same story, they have learned that while some people may have a far more tragic past than others, it does not excuse the horrible things they have done. They are someone who is simultaneously the least judgemental out of the whole group, yet will often act like that of the judge, and as such only care for the truth to be settled and righteous punishment to befall the guilty. As for the Mages of Mind who found knowledge of Mind, they almost share the same power that the former group of Mages also acquired, though they use these powers ever so slightly differently.

When the latter group of Mages ever find themself in a high stress situation, they are quick to look towards their Aspect for guidance and answers of what to do. As they do this, they will eventually become far more grounded in rationale and logic rather than instinct and emotions. Once this state of clairvoyance has been achieved they will be able to visualize all available options, as well as being able to see all the consequences that are to come with the action they choose to do. While they may not know as to whether these actions will bring them into a Doomed Timeline or not, or if it is even the most intelligent or morally correct choice to make, if they see an option that shows the most promise of eliminating the most threats, then there is no doubt that they will pounce onto that opportunity while they still have it. 

What makes them so different to the other Mages of Mind, though, is that the former group cannot see that far ahead of what consequences will come of their actions. Their own logic blocks out any glimpse they may get as to what will come after the option they pick. Perhaps for those who somehow have found a way to walk upon both paths, they may be able to see brief glimpses of all the different options and consequences, but it will rarely ever let them see any further than a few moments into the future. Because of this, the former group of Mages are the ones who have the higher chance of becoming frozen when faced with conflict - especially with that of a battle. While they may know how to dance, and how to identify the music currently playing, they will never be able to guess how the rhythm may shift once they finally force them onto the dance floor. While the Mage of Mind may have started their journey afraid to set foot on the dance floor, they are now more than capable of not only participating in such festivities. Not only that, but there is a high probability that they will have no trouble being the one to perfectly sweep others off their feet, as well as teach them all of the most wonderful and creative ways to dance.Who knows, perhaps even they themself are throwing the party, as Mind-bound are recognized to be the ones who know how to have fun in the most expressive ways possible. At the end of the day, if there is anyone who understands that sharing all the different ways of life helps to bring people closer together, whether it is through deep and intricate discussions at 2 AM and reflections on life or by swinging, tapping, and spinning in a partnered dance, it would most definitely be the Mage of Mind at their absolute best. Don’t be afraid to take up the opportunity when it arises, as no one knows for certain when it will happen again - not even the Mage of Mind in all of their whimsical joy and jolly wisdom.