#and efforts CAN be as small as simply 1. trying to survive until the bad times end!!! 2. telling people doing bad stuff that they ARE doing

[mejomonster]

despite any bad shit happening, i refuse to succumb to thinking we're doomed. there's always been bad stuff happening in this world, and good stuff. there will continue to be. i make myself stay alive, i fight to keep myself alive, and i keep trying to contribute to the good things. whether that's small or big, just being kind to those around me or if i have the ability to do more. the world will not just 'end' and release people from suffering, it's pointless to want intense destruction, someone will survive that destruction and have to deal with the pain it causes, and death doesn't guarantee you'll be free from the pain (and even if it did - why push for destruction that everyone still alive would have to keep suffering in? why not just want LESS suffering in the world?). it's never the 'end', it's never 'over'. Every day you're alive, it's getting up in a world that's got good and bad, and existing despite the bad, your existence adding to some relief in kindness and safety and care for yourself and others.

[roachliquid]

I have to snort when people are like "Noooo, you can't put a happy or even bittersweet ending in a Mythos work and still call it 'Lovecraftian', that's defeating the whole point!"

Like. Art is a conversation, ya dweebs. Yes, the running thesis in much of Lovecraft's work is that doom is inevitable and all-encompassing - but there's a lot of room to play with it that hardline traditionalists tend to overlook in their insistence on categorical purity. And one of the ways you can play with it is to disagree outright with his conclusions.

I mean, look. Lovecraft spent most of his life as a privileged dickhead whose trauma over the fate of his parents warred constantly with his view of himself as someone who should be exempt from such horrors. The idea of bad things, even cataclysmically bad, being something that both happened to people on a regular basis and could be lived with didn't come home to roost for him until the Depression. The dude was naive as hell, is what I'm saying - so of course sometimes people are going to look at his Earth-Shattering Tragedies and go "Oh, someone could actually survive that" - without fundamentally disagreeing with the concept that the world is full of terrifying unstoppable forces with the power to make your life worse.

In fact, one of the best Lovecraftian games I've ever seen both plays the doom completely straight, and refuses to submit to Lovecraft's philosophy about it. Sucker for Love: First Date is a fantastically silly dating sim about trying to smooch an Elder God, and while it is partly (and successfully) a horror game about dying because you woke up Femthulhu, it never downplays the significance of the protagonist's comparatively lighthearted quest to smooch that same Elder God. Essentially, the game says, the end might be horrible and inevitable, but you can still have a good time in the interim - and at the end, when everything is falling to pieces, the fact that you spent that time on something happy makes the end sting that much less.

It is a fantastic diversion from Lovecraft's attitude, while still taking his themes head-on. And that, to me, is more valuable than simply parroting everything he put into his work. Yes, there are writers and game developers who don't do this, but I consider that a skill issue rather than a problem of philosophical disagreement - they simply aren't making the effort to bridge the gap between the story they want to tell and the material that they're working with.

There are plenty of ways you can emphasize Lovecraft's themes without directly agreeing with his conclusions. You can rob protagonists of the ability to defend themselves via might - maybe the popular American pastime of "shoot the thing until dead" no longer works, or maybe efforts to call in the military fall on deaf ears. You can emphasize how terrible the cataclysm is by showing how much is still lost even when characters manage to cinch some kind of victory. Hell, you could even depict the inevitability of suffering by showing that after the characters are done dealing with the cosmic threats, the banal evils of everyday life mean the fight will never really be over.

And you can choose not to focus on that, too. You can decide you'd rather show the importance of small victories, managing to survive as everything is falling apart around you. You can send a message that even if you are doomed, survival is still worth fighting for. You can choose, as the creators of a ridiculous dating sim chose, to emphasize that the omnipresence of the end does not negate the possibility of present happiness.

Insisting that Lovecraftian works have to agree 1:1 with his messages effectively gatekeeps the genre from anyone who isn't willing to uncritically parrot his philosophy. And that's incredibly counterproductive to the purpose of making art, which is inherently transformative and communicative.

[bigballofstress]

Pickpocket (Avengers x Child!Reader)

Description: You have been living on the streets for years, and over these years, you have become incredibly good at pickpocketing.  Unfortunately for you, though, you picked the wrong target one too many times.

Part 2 if you guys want it, just let me know!

Chin up, shoulders back, even steps.  My heart is calm, my breaths slow and measured, and every muscle in my body is relaxed.  In other words, every last inch of me screams that I am a confident, kind young lady without a care in the world.

No matter what anybody says, looks really are everything.  Every time you meet someone new or even just pass by them on the street, your mind makes a snap judgement about them.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  I’m not saying that everyone you meet is prejudiced or anything of the sort.  Those snap judgements can easily be changed with an open-minded person, sometimes without even needing a whole conversation.  Still, that doesn’t change the fact that when you see a well-groomed person in a suit, your mind automatically thinks they are successful, and when you see someone coming at you with a hoodie covering their face and their hands in their pockets, you automatically tense up.  None of that is your fault, and actually it’s probably a good thing that you would be wary of people who are acting rather suspicious.  Really, the only issue with these immediate ideas of every person you see is the fact that it makes people like me -- people who understand how these momentary impressions work -- able to take advantage of them.

It didn’t take long to realize I had a talent for it.  I already looked the part, -- a helpless, adorable little girl -- I had a surprising knack for staying calm under pressure, and as much as I hated the old bitch, my caretaker had given me all the tools I needed.  She was a stickler for proper manners, so I learned how to speak, sit, and walk like a “proper young lady.”  Plus, her insane rules about tiny meal portions and too-early curfews taught me to be light on my feet as I often sneaked downstairs to grab a roll of bread at night.  Yes, I had everything I needed.  The only real hurdle was actually deciding to do it.  I never really wanted to be a bad person.  But the world is a heartless place, the city even more so, and by the end of my first week, I knew what I had to do if I was ever going to survive.

So, I started working -- oh, and by the way, no matter what you think, it is still a job.  I put my time and effort into a certain task, and I obtain money because of it.  I don’t know about you, but that certainly sounds like a job to me.  And it was easier than I thought it would be.  Within about a day, I realized that people saw me as sweet, innocent, and harmless -- no, more than that, they wanted to see me as harmless.  Because if I wasn’t harmless, then that meant their world was even more screwed up than they thought.  I learned quick, and by the end of the year, I had perfected my technique.  It was simple: avoid all conversation if possible, and if absolutely necessary, smile and point out the farthest adult man within reason as my dad before weaving through the small gaps in the crowd, preferably around taller people, so they couldn’t see or follow me.  I only got caught once or twice, but I’m grateful that I did.  It forced me to learn perspective, that I needed to know more than just how to talk well.  So, I learned how to run through a city.  And now, I’m practically unstoppable.  

As I take my even, not-too-fast-but-not-too-slow stroll down the sidewalk, a small, ambiguous smile decorating my lips, I can see it in each person’s eyes as they walk past that I have completely embodied my character.  My arms swung with a practiced nonchalance as my eyes flickered from one person to the next, each time going through a mental list as I weighed the chances I had of succeeding on them versus how likely they were to catch on and calculated the amount of time that both of these events would likely take to happen.  Finally, after a few minutes of this practice, one of them caught my eye.

He was larger, more muscular.  Guys like him were  a gamble.  Often, a man of his appearance simply cared a bit too much about his appearance.  Still, every now and then, they look like that because they been trained, and while past training usually meant they had no practice running in a city, it also meant that he would be much more jumpy and alert to his surroundings.  However, his deep, loose pockets with the corner of his wallet just barely sticking out and the thoughtful gaze as he surveyed the buildings tipped the scales further and further in my favor.  The wonder in his eyes just screamed tourist.

I gazed forward with an absentminded look in my eye that I’d spent months perfecting in the mirror while keeping him clearly in my periphery before bumping into him.  As I hit him, two of my fingers simultaneously dipped into his pocket, where my knee bumped against his leg to jolt his wallet up and out.  The moment the warm leather was in my grasp, I forced myself to fall backwards.  Before I could hit the ground, though, I felt one of those strong, muscular arms had wrapped itself around my waist and was helping me back up.  

My jaw clenched for half a second.  This wasn’t good.  His reflexes were too quick to have just worked out at some random gym, which meant my hunch was right: he had been trained.  And that meant that I needed to get out of there fast.  I wouldn’t be able to slip the wallet back in his pocket without bumping into him again, and that would only make me look even more suspicious, so I quickly emptied it of all of the cash behind his back and slipped the bills into my sleeve before tossing the piece of leather on the ground a few feet away.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern evident in his eyes, and immediately I decided on my personality for the day -- bright and bubbly but proper.  Gently, he released his arm from its position on my waist once he knew I had regained my footing.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” I quickly apologized, my left hand shooting up to cover my mouth in fake shock while my right hand carefully dropped the money in one of my own pockets, all the while watching every last one of his movements for any sign of suspicion.  “It was all my fault.  I wasn’t paying attention where I was going.”

“It’s ok, really.”  He scratched the back of his neck.  “I wasn’t really looking where I was going either, so it was partially my fault, too.”

“Well, thank you for catching me, sir, but I really have to go,” I smiled at him apologetically.  “I’m supposed to meet back up with my dad in about five minutes.”

“Oh, no worries,” he responded kindly before sneaking a glance at my old, slightly ripped clothes, the concern still dancing in his eyes.  “You’re sure you’re alright, though?”

“Absolutely!”  I dismissed.  “Thank you again!”

“Um, yeah, no problem.”  We both started to walk away.

I waited patiently as I listened to his retreating steps.  1... 2... 3... 4... and then-- “Hey, mister!” I called, bending down and grabbing the piece of leather from where I had tossed it earlier.  “I think you might’ve dropped your wallet!”

The man turned back, shocked, before jogging back towards me.  “I didn’t even notice,” he mumbled to himself.  “Hey, thanks, kid.”

“My pleasure!” I chirped.  “Now, sorry, but I really have to get going.  See you around, sir!”  I quickly jogged off, allowing myself to get lost in the crowd before he could even have a minute to fully understand what happened.

-- 3rd Person POV --

“I told you guys the world wasn’t such a bad place!” Steve called as he entered the living room of Stark Tower.  The rest of the Avengers looked up in surprise.  They had been having this argument for the past three days, with Steve insisting that there were still people who put others first living in New York while the entire rest of the team tried to convince him otherwise.

“Alright, show your work,” Tony leaned back against the wall, watching the captain with curiosity.

“I met a kid today who couldn’t have been older than 16.  I was trying to remember what the city looked like before I went in the ice, and I accidentally bumped into her.  She then spent the next few minutes constantly apologizing and saying it was all her fault.  And the best part is, after we’d already walked away, she found and returned my wallet.  I hadn’t even realized I had dropped it!”  The 96-year-old man finished with a triumphant grin, leaving the rest of the team silent for a moment.  That is, until Tony busted out laughing.  Steve frowned.  “...What?”

“Steve, honey, check inside of your wallet,” Natasha sighed as she turned back to the tv to watch whatever was on.

Steve frowned, reached into his pocket, and pulled out his wallet.  “I don’t understand; why do you want me to....” He trailed off as he stared at the now empty pocket that only just earlier that day held around 65 dollars in cash.  “She... but how did she...”

Tony slapped a heavy hand on Steve’s shoulder, wiping away a tear from the corner of his eye.  “She scammed you, bro.  And you fell for it hook, line, and sinker,” he grinned before walking back to his room, still chuckling softly to himself at his friend’s misfortune.

------- Time Skip -------

About two weeks had passed since that godsend of a man and I crossed paths.  I can’t remember the last time I had managed to lift 65 dollars off anyone.  That kind of cash can last someone like me a really long time.  But sadly, all good things must come to an end, and after buying myself the first decent meal I’d had in weeks plus a ton of canned foods and non-perishables that I dropped off at the nearest homeless shelter, that good thing ended ended all too quickly.  Which meant it was time I went back to work.

I stepped into the public library, that same ambiguous smile painted ever so gently across my face.  There weren’t a whole lot of people here and there were almost never any big scores, but working here was a lot less guess-work, and more often than not, the target was too engrossed in their book to even notice what I was doing, so there was also much less risk of being caught.

After a quick scan of the quiet room, my eyes landed on the man sitting at one of the long tables, his bag haphazardly laying next to him on the table.  It should be easy enough to grab something from in there, and he seemed invested enough to have his guard down.  He should make for a good target.

I walked into the science section and grabbed a few scientific papers, most of which were generally about to nuclear physics, before walking back to his table and sitting down right across from him.  Scientific papers are the best way to make sure no one has the confidence to talk to you.  I opened the paper that I had read a hundred times and started pretending to read it once more, my left hand resting on my cheek as my right hand slowly made its way towards the bag.

“Excuse me.” I glanced up, pausing my movement towards his back but still being careful not to react too quickly and retract my hand.  I didn’t want to draw his attention to what I was doing, and if at all possible, I would still like to come out of this with something to show for it.  As I met the glasses-clad, clearly intelligent eyes of the man in front of me, it was easy to figure out what my personality should be -- shy, smart, and above all else, kind.  “Is that Schippers’s work?”

I blinked in surprise and allowed a soft smile to spread across my lips.  “You know Stefan Schippers?”

“Yeah, his work in antimatter is amazing,” he grinned fully now, his eyes lighting up and making him almost look like a completely different person.  “Particularly regarding his research in collisions.”

I grinned back, taking note of how his eyes were now trained on mine, instead of glancing around like before.  Maybe I should’ve started a conversation before -- clearly it was a good distraction for him.  Well, either way, it’s going to be easier to lift something off of him now, so I guess I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.  “I completely agree.  His work is amazing,” I giggled softly, glancing down at the table before looking back up at him, a slight red hue now painting the apples of my cheeks as my hand slipped inside of his bag.

“I was honestly surprised to see you reading that paper, actually,” he chuckled nervously.  “I’ve read it at least 20 times, but I figured I was the only one.”  I laughed lightly, slipping what felt like a wallet out of the bag and tucking it under my arm.

“Trust me, I’ve read this so many times, I’m afraid the library is going to have to replace it because I’ve worn it out so much.  You know, if you’re interested in Schippers, you should read some of Dr. Banner’s papers,” I laid my left hand on his arm gently while my right arm swung back over to me, pushing the wallet into my lap.  “As much as I love Schippers, Dr. Banner’s work is unparalleled.”

The man chuckled nervously again, ducking his head a bit.  “You really think so, huh?  How old are you anyways?  I don’t see a whole lot of kids brushing up on nuclear physics.”

“I’m older than I look,” I casually brushed off the question.  I was not about to give up any personal information, fellow science geek or not.  “Oh, by the way, do you have the time?”

The man glanced at his watch.  “About 6:00.”

My eyes widened in shock.  “You’re kidding, it got that late?!  My dad’s gonna kill me!”  I gasped and quickly stood up, catching the wallet in my left hand and slipping it into my pocket.  “It was really nice meeting you, sir, but I have to go home.  I really liked talking to you, though!  I hope we can meet again!”  I hurriedly gathered the papers and rushed off, waving with a broad smile.

“Oh, uh nice meeting you... too...” he tried to respond, but she was already well out of sight.

-- 3rd Person POV -- 

“What the hell?” Bruce mumbled, digging through his bag.  The pizza had just arrived, and he needed to pay his share.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha glanced at him, an eyebrow raised.

“I could’ve sworn I put my wallet in here, but now I can’t find it,” he frowned, continuing to search every last nook and cranny of the old bag.

“Don’t worry about it, buddy, I can cover you if you’re short,” Tony shrugged.

“That’s not the issue,” Bruce frowned, finally giving up and tossing his bag to the side in frustration.  “That had my credit card, my driver’s license, and my ID for Stark Tower.  If it’s lost somewhere, it could be a real problem.”

“When was the last time you remember having it?”  Clint mumbled through a full mouth of the piece of pizza that he’d already shoved in his face.  Natasha rolled her eyes and wiped off the bit of spit he’d gotten on her in disgust.

“I was at the library.  I used my library card to check out some books,” he responded confidently.

“Again?” Clint asked, once again through a mouthful of cheese and marinara sauce.  “What, do you live there or something?”

“Ok, now walk us through exactly what happened after you checked out those books,” Natasha suggested, doing her best to ignore her best friend.

Bruce sighed and nodded, sitting down.  “I checked out my books, then walked over to one of the tables to start reading.  Then I talked to that teenager for a little while about some of Schippers’s theories before she ran off--”

“You talked to a teenager about Schippers?  And she actually understood?”  Tony asked, lifting a brow in surprise.

“Yeah, she even recommended I read Dr. Banner’s work in the same field,” Bruce chuckled.  “I thought it better not to tell her who I was, but according to her, Banner’s work is ‘unparalleled’.”

“Damn, the kid knows her stuff,” Tony nodded, impressed.  “Did she say anything about--”

“Boys,” Natasha cut in.  “The wallet.”

“Ah, right,” Bruce mumbled apologetically.  “Anyways, after she ran off, I kept reading for a few minutes before leaving, too.  Then I came back to the tower and got up here just in time to decide on ordering pizza with you guys.”

“Did you use the subway?” Natasha asked.

Bruce shook his head.  “No.  I figured since it was such a nice day out, I would just walk home.”

“How did you enter the building?”

“I ran into Steve downstairs, and we came in together.”

Steve, who had been silent up until this point, finally spoke up.  “This teenager... Was she about 16?  With (H/C) hair?”

“What, you think it’s the same girl who totally scammed you the other--” Tony started, getting ready to take part in his favorite pastime of making fun of Steve.

“Actually, yeah, she was,” Bruce answered, his eyes wide in realization.

Before anyone could say anything, Tony’s incredibly loud laughter filled the room.  “Holy shit, you guys both got scammed by the same teenager!  How does that even happen?!” He wheezed, laughing so hard he could hardly breath.

“Hey she seemed like a nice girl!” Bruce defended.  “How was I supposed to know she was robbing me?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?” Tony asked, tears streaming down his face now.  Bruce opened his mouth, trying to come up with something but came up blank.  A heavy hand landing on his shoulder knocked him out of his stupor.

“Just let it happen,” Steve sighed, his eyes cast down as he shook his head in sympathy.

------- Time Skip -------

It had been a week since I had spoken to that science nerd in the library, and I was still pissed.  Seriously, what kind of grown man only carries around 4 dollars and 36 cents?  Well, apparently, that weirdo did.  I had thrown out all the cards and IDs to at least sell the what looked to be leather wallet to a pawn shop, but apparently the thing wasn’t even leather!  All of that time, wasted for a measly 12 bucks.  I’ll say it again: I was pissed.

So, now I was back out working again, because the money I’d made was barely enough to buy a few snacks that I had to portion out over the course of the past week.

As I walked down the sidewalk, still grumbling softly to myself about what had happened, I saw him.  

Tony freaking Stark.

I grinned.  Maybe my luck was getting better after all.  I mean, a billionaire who’s famous for having, shall we say, questionable morals?  After all, it’s not exactly nice to sleep with as many women as humanly possible before tossing them away like they’re nothing.  I mean, sure there’s the whole iron man thing, but he’s still kind of a dick, let’s be honest.  And while I usually tried to refrain from taking anything major in case my target doesn’t have a whole lot of money or the object is sentimental, billionaire jerks are fair game.  And the best part was, I didn’t even have to read him to know the part I was going to play.  Tony Stark would only ever fall for one personality: sarcastic, quick-witted, and strong.

His head was down, buried in his phone, so I casually walked towards him, picking up an old cup of coffee from one of a nearby cafe’s outdoor tables, before smacking into him head-first, spilling the coffee everywhere.

“What the hell?!”

“Oh my god!” We both yelled at the same time.

“Oh c’mon, kid, this is silk!” Tony continued to shout, staring down at the coffee covering his chest.

“Hey, I’m not the one with my head buried in my phone while walking through one of the busiest cities in the world,” I snapped back.  “And you’re not the only one whose clothes got ruined.  This is cashmere!” I lied through my teeth.  It was a ratty old sweater that I’d bought for about 3 dollars at a thrift store.

Stark scoffed.  “Do you have any idea who I am?”

“Yeah, you’re Tony Stark.  That doesn’t change the fact that my parents are gonna be pissed about me ruining a hundred dollar sweater,” I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms defiantly.

That was when he finally glanced at me and my coffee-stained outfit.  Stark sighed and put his fingers to the bridge of his nose.  “Alright, I’m sorry.” Wait, what?  Since when does the great Tony Stark ever apologize for anything?  “I’ll pay for the dry-cleaning, ok?  Just give me your parents’ numbers.”

Shit, that’s not how this is supposed to go.  Ok, new strategy.  A sassy front but a kind interior.

I sighed and shook my head.  “No, it’s not entirely your fault.  I guess I could’ve tried to avoid you better.  Anyways, you got a pen and paper?”

Stark nodded slightly and reached into his inner pocket, pulling out a tiny pad and a fancy looking pen.  I quickly jotted down the phone number and handed it back to him.  Shoot, he looked like he was about to walk away.  I had to act quick or lose my chance.  Time to add one more very important characteristic to my identity: pitiable.  “Hey, I really am sorry.  I kind of overreacted.  It wasn’t cool.  I guess I just got a little nervous.  My dad likes things to be clean, and he can get pretty mad when I don’t follow that rule...” I trailed off a bit, glancing down at my feet.  I shook my head quickly and met the billionaire’s gaze, now filled with concern, again.  “Sorry, didn’t mean to dump that on you.  I just wanted to say thanks.”  I held out my right hand, praying that I’d guessed which hand to use correctly.  As Stark grabbed my hand, I had to hold back a sigh of relief when I saw the watch casually placed on his wrist.

“It was really nice meeting you, Mr. Stark,” I smiled a bit, with my left hand closing over his wrist while three of my fingers on my right hand undid the clasp on his watch.  Then I pressed down one the buttons on either side of the clasp with my middle finger on my right hand and my thumb on my left hand, making sure to hold the watch in place.  “If you’d like, I’d be happy to buy you a coffee to make up for it.  There’s a really nice café right over there.”  I squeezed the watch tightly with my left hand and jerked my chin towards the store just behind him.  He turned his head and looked, pulling his hand back slightly as he did so, which allowed me to slip the watch off his wrist.  Immediately, I dropped it in my pocket before he had a chance to turn back around.

“Thanks, kid, but I’m good.  I’ll give your parents a call when I get home, ok?”  He said before awkwardly giving me a pat on the shoulder.  “Now go run off and play with some dolls or whatever.”

I rolled my eyes.  “Thanks, but my collection can’t be nearly as big as yours,” I bit back with a slight, good-natured smirk.  “Anyways, I gotta go home and get yelled at by my parents.  Nice meeting you, Mr. Stark,” I called, waving to him as I was already leaving.

Stark shook his head with a small smile.  “Yeah, you too, kid.”

-- 3rd Person POV --

“What, no watch today?” Tony furrowed his brows at Bruce’s question.

“Of course I have a watch today.  I have a watch for every day of the week,” he scoffed, lifting his wrist to show off the rather expensive Rolex.

“Umm dude...?” Clint started.

“Yeah, I know it’s awesome, and no, you cannot try it on,” Tony smirked.  “I have a very strict look don’t touch policy.  These bad boys cost quite the pretty penny, and I wouldn’t want any of you trying to take it from me.”  Clint just shrugged in defeat and unpaused his video game -- it wasn’t his fault his friend interrupted him trying to help.

“Tony, look at your wrist,” Steve rolled his eyes at the pompous man’s antics.

“What, just so I can admire it--” he cut himself off as his eyes landed on the bare skin of his wrist.  “...Where the hell is my watch?”

“Maybe you forgot to put one on today?” Bruce shrugged, going back to his computer as he continued to work.

“No, I didn’t forget; I never forget,” Tony snapped.  “It was there this morning, and now it’s gone.”   He yanked up his sleeve to search in vain for the incredibly expensive missing item.

“Hey, maybe Tony was pick-pocketed, too,” Clint joked absentmindedly before cursing at some ‘dumbass little camping noob’ who kept killing him.

Tony’s eyes widened in realization.  “Holy shit, it was the kid.”

“What?” Steve frowned.

“The kid!  The kid who spilled coffee on me today!”  He shouted.  “I had my watch, then she shook my hand, and now the watch is gone.  She totally took it!”

Clint paused the game again.  “Wait, so basically some kid took your custom watch, which is worth thousands of dollars, right off your wrist, and you didn’t even notice?”  Tony bobbed his head up and down frantically.  “Hold on... You don’t think...” Clint glanced between the three other men in the room.

“(H/C) hair?” Steve asked.

“(E/C) eyes?” Bruce called, suddenly no longer able to focus on his work.

Tony nodded slowly with wide eyes.  Reality crashed down on all three of them.

A wide smile slowly took over Clint’s face.  “So you mean to tell me that three of the Avengers, the Earth’s greatest defenders, got scammed by the same teenage girl in less than a month?”  The three men were silent, each of them staring at the ground as they started to question how smart they actually were.

About 30 seconds later, the silence was broken.  “Nat, you’ll never believe what just happened.  I can’t believe you weren’t home for this,” Clint talked excitedly into the phone while his teammates all slowly left the room to sulk alone.

------- Time Skip -------

It had been a whole month since I had gotten the watch off Tony Stark.  I almost couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the amount of zeros on the offer the pawn shop had given me.  It was probably one of the best days of my life.  Immediately, I had gone out and bought myself a meal at an actual restaurant, and let me tell you, they weren’t kidding when they said restaurant food is delicious.  Every protein bar and bag of chips in the world couldn’t live up to the food I ate that day.  And with that kind of money, I could be eating like that for maybe even a year!  Still, I knew what I had to do.  

It was almost Christmas.  With the money I’d just gotten, I could afford to buy each and every kid at the orphanage actual brand new presents that year, instead of the crummy second-hand stuff that had to be shared between three or four kids that I usually brought.  So, I went out and blew a good three quarters of my new budget on toys, and not the kind from thrift shops or even the ones from the big department stores.  I could finally get them toys from one of the fancy stores that had display windows.  And it was worth it, too, seeing the pure amazement that lit up those kids’ eyes when they saw there was enough for all of them.  I then spent another quarter of the money on nonperishable foods that I donated to the homeless shelter plus one massive turkey for their Christmas feast. 

After all of that, I was left with around 20 dollars for myself.  Usually I can make money like that last with just a few extra marks, but as the month dragged on and less and less people were out on the streets at night, my budget ran thin.  Eventually, I reached my breaking point.  I’d gone I think four days now without any food.  My stomach growled loudly, begging me to give it something, anything.  I just sighed and receded further into the fabric of my thin, worn down coat that I’d found a few days back by a dumpster -- the coat I used to wear long traded in for a couple spare dollars.  Sure, the wind cut through it like a knife, but hell, it was better than nothing.

I glanced up as I heard the crunching of footsteps in the snow, my heard immediately leaping into my throat at the prospect of there being people out.  I frowned when I saw who they were.  A couple walking together, chatting away about something or another.  Normally, I would never choose a couple to target -- it was too easy for one of them to spot what I was doing to the other -- but I had gotten desperate.  I was freezing cold, and I needed food now.

So, I walked directly towards them and crashed my shoulder into the guy’s, my hand slipping into his pocket.  I thanked whatever higher power was watching over me when my hand came into contact with a money clip.

“Sorry,” I mumbled and slipped my hand back out before continuing to walk at a casual pace away from the two, tucking the clip into my pocket.

-- 3rd Person POV --

“Well that was rude,” Clint huffed, dusting himself off.

Natasha stared at the back of the young girl who continued to walk away like nothing had happened.  “Hey, Clint,” she muttered.

“Yeah?”

“Where’s your wallet?”

“I put it back in my... pocket....” Clint froze when he realized he couldn’t feel the familiar clip in his jacket pocket.  He whirled around to look at the girl, who was already a ways away.  “Hey!  Get back here!”  He screamed, breaking into a run, Natasha quickly following suit.

-- Your POV --

“Hey!  Get back here!”  I glanced back with wide eyes, my heart leaping into my throat before immediately sprinting.

I ran through the snow, turning right and left through back alleys and narrow shortcuts, thanking my past self for never eating well, as my skinny form was able to stay on top of the snow for the most part.  Still, somehow I hadn’t lost the two adults chasing me yet.  They had barely fallen a foot or two behind over the last eight blocks.  My stamina was quickly running out, the malnourishment over the past week finally catching up to me.  I felt dizzy, and my chest burned as I focused on continuing to put one foot in front of the other.  I turned down an alleyway with a brick wall at the end.

“Ha!  We’ve finally caught you!”  The man behind me panted.  I completely ignored him, not pausing a single step as I sprinted towards the wall.

“Uhh, hey, kid?  Rock beats teenager...” He called warily.  I continued to ignore him.  I was only five feet away.  “Stop, you’re gonna hurt yourself!” he shouted just before I jumped, pressing my feet into the bricks to launch my further and further up.  I reached as high as I could and just barely caught the edge of the wall with my fingertips.  I swung my other arm up and forced my arms to pull myself to the top.

I panted as I gazed down from the top of the wall, the couple staring back up at me.  “Holy shit,” the man muttered, to which the woman immediately smacked him in the arm.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly.  “I was hungry.”  I wasn’t really sure why I was apologizing.  Granted, I knew what I was doing wasn’t very nice, but I don’t recall ever apologizing before.  Maybe it’s because they reminded me of my parents -- or, at least, what I imagined my parents to be like.  Maybe it’s because I was so dizzy that I couldn’t really think straight.  I nodded slightly to the two before turning around, preparing myself to jump down the other side.

Suddenly, a massive wave of dizziness and nausea smacked me in the face.  I groaned slightly and put my hand to my forehead, trying to get a hold of myself.  Evidently, that didn’t work, because the next thing I knew, I was falling.

Time seemed to slow as I fell through the air.  I probably shouldn’t pass out right now, the surprisingly calm thought entered my mind.  If I do, I’ll most likely just freeze to death.  Then again, passing out would save me a lot of pain from falling.  Alright, I guess that’s it then.  I’ll pass out now and hope I wake up in time to not die.  My eyes fluttered closed just before I hit the ground, the fog in my brain thickening as I finally allowed myself to just give in to it.

-- 3rd Person POV --

Clint grunted as he caught the girl.  He was expecting to fall to the ground with her, only really serving to break her fall, but was surprised to find that she wasn’t even heavy enough to knock him down.  Natasha made her way over to his side, looking down at the little thief in her friend’s arms.

“She’s light as a feather,” Clint murmured with a frown on his face, “and freezing to the touch.”

“She said she was hungry,” Natasha muttered thoughtfully.

Clint grit his teeth and nodded, determined.  “Alright, that settles it.  We’re taking her back to the tower.”

Natasha glanced at him warily.  “You sure?  The others might not be so accepting.”

“They’re gonna have to be,” he stated, already walking back, holding the girl as close as he could in an attempt to warm her up.

[lin-nin]

Tribulation & Tenderness - Chapter 4

Ship: Main Technoblade x Reader, some Dream x Reader

Plot: You're a princess in a Kingdom suffering a years long famine. In a desperate attempt to help your people, you accept one simple offer: Marriage to the crown prince of a neighboring kingdom. Anything to help your people survive. Surely it can't be too bad, can it?

Chapter List: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 Disclaimer:   Cross-posted on Wattpad (discontinued) and Ao3. This is based off of everyone's CHARACTERS. I do not write fanfic based off the actual people.

-- Chapter 4: Library Discussions

< | Previous Chapter

The library offered a quiet solace to you that was hard to find elsewhere. Hardly anyone else ever occupied it, and you were eager to find peace. So much had happened in such a short time, you wanted to just forget it. You considered burying yourself into a book but instead to just drape yourself across a chair. You hung your legs over one of the arms of the plush chair, neck craned over the other. Your fingers skimmed along the floor, eyes boring into the ceiling.

Why was everything so complicated? Who were your parents even expecting you to marry? You figured you would meet him in a few days. Assuming he was alive, of course. Had he met an accident and died, and Techno had become crown prince? Why were your parents so upset about Techno being your fiancé anyways? Surely his reputation wasn't that bad. Perhaps they were overreacting. You had doubts Techno would agree to a marriage only to rid of you.

Questions bounced around your head endlessly, ricocheting off one another. You had very few answers, no bread crumbs to follow for answers. There was no way to figure anything out about Techno without asking him directly. Which would be awkward, since you seemed unable to properly talk to him without stammering over your words. What a fool you tended to make of yourself.

The soft thump of boots on tile jarred you from your musings, eyes opening to seek out the source. When had you even closed them? You scanned the library, lifting your head up to look at the door way. Techno stood there, the faintest quirk to his lips as brown eyes bored into your frame. Right. You were a princess, draped sloppily over a chair. You scrambled to right yourself, dress fluttering around as you did. You flattened the fabric around your legs, pretending that it had not happened.

From across the room, you could hear that same small exhale leave Techno as it had earlier. He really was laughing at you. Embarrassed heat crawled up your neck again, and you looked away for a moment to compose yourself. "Techno, I didn't expect you to come here. Not that you can't, of course! Just no one does." You threw your hands up in front of you as you tripped over your words, cursing a little in your head. Damn it. Every time.

You were relieved that his amusement at your fumbling wasn't loud. You probably would have wanted to crawl in a hole if it had been. Instead he simply walked towards one of the shelves, angling his head to examine the spines on the books. "I needed something to do. My father is busy with matters I really don't care to be involved with." That was probably the most he had said to you in one go, and you kinda wanted to gape. You just nodded,before remembering he couldn't see you.

"Me too. That's why I'm here. Lots to think about," You said, gaze never leaving Techno. You watched the loose ponytail sway against his back as his head turned to look at you instead. You met his gaze as best you could, as if holding your ground for whatever reason. He simply grunted, turning back to the books. Exciting. Another conversation dead like it was nothing. That would be happening a lot, wouldn't it?

Your eyes tracked his movements, watching as he took a book off the shelf, flipping it over and extending it out in front of him, rather far, to see it past the school. It was certainly a sight to see. You struggled to suppress a laugh, it coming out in the form of a breathy giggle instead. You couldn’t help it. All this effort for intimidation with a silly skull, just to look like a dork when trying to actually look at something.

"Pfft- wouldn't it be easier to just… not wear that thing? It surely causes more problems than its worth?" You questioned without much thought. You blanched a little when he turned to you again, his hand raising to touch the tusks of the mask.

"I like it. It looks cool," He stated simply. Cool?

"It looks scary until you try to do anything. Why not take it off?" You pressed again. You sat back more comfortably in your chair, watching him curiously. You could hear him huff softly from across the room. He didn’t answer for a long time, and you were positive he was going to just ignore you. You wouldn’t entirely be surprised.

“I don’t like taking it off around people outside of my castle.” You supposed it made fair enough sense. Kind of.

“Does it have to do with your scary reputation, or whatever it is?” You pressed on your questioning. You might as well while you were being given the chance. He carried on his way of perusing the books, grabbing a few and holding onto them.

“Yeah, something like that,” He murmured. You did consider asking him more about the mask, but didn’t want to push it. Something told you that it would be pointless. It was a subject to be pushed another day. Which you were alright with, in truth. You were going to have plenty of time with him to figure things out. The library lapsed into silence, though it wasn’t as unbearable as previous ones. He just continued on his way of choosing books, and you could only think about everything. Your future was very obscured, honestly. You didn’t know what to expect from it.

Your head leaned back as you thought about it all. What was his kingdom like? His family? Would it be warm and welcoming? Or would it be cold? You hoped it was warm, you wouldn’t last in a cold environment. You sighed softly, staring at the ceiling. That was the worst part of this all. The unknown factor of your future.

Books hit the table across from you, causing you to jerk your head up. Techno slid into one of the nearby chairs, lounging into it. You blinked a little in surprise, having expected him to leave the library the moment he had picked out his books. You paused, thinking on if you should start up another conversation. Surely he couldn’t read with that mask on. Not conventionally, at least.

After a few heartbeats, you decided it definitely wouldn’t hurt. “What’s your home like?” You murmured, trying to stamp down the apprehension you felt. Surely it was natural, but it was kind of embarrassing all the same. You toyed with the fabric of your dress, awaiting his answer. It was so hard to read his face, to tell what he was thinking.

“Nice. Mostly quiet, if you ignore my brothers. It’s not too bad there, not too different from here. You’ll probably like it,” He murmured, eyeing the books on the table. You had a feeling he wouldn’t be reading them until he went back to his room.

“Your brothers? What are they like?”

“I have 2, Wilbur and Tommy. There’s also Tubbo, he’s best friends with Tommy so he’s like a brother as well. Wilbur isn’t too loud on his own, he’s nice. Tommy is… loud, and crude. Obnoxious at times,” He sighed, head shaking slightly. “Tubbo is kind. Tommy makes all of them very loud, though. It can be unbearable.” You let a small laugh escape your lips. You supposed that it would be entertaining. If you could deal with them, at least.

“Sounds… Interesting,” You fished around for the right word to describe it, offering up a small smile. He glanced to the side, rubbing at his neck as silence lapsed over the two of you again. This happened a lot, didn’t it? Hopefully it got better with time.

Next Chapter | >

[liloelsagranger]

Night shift - finally a new Rocketshipping-fanfiction

My dear friends,

it’s been a while since I last posted an entry. Let me tell you why and what, besides Covid-19, made me pause from publishing fanfictions over the last couple of months. Of course, Switzerland was very affected by the pandemic and still is today. We had numerous lock-downs or as Swiss people call it “slow downs”. My mother got very sick last year, I almost lost her. The doctors said she would only live two or three more days, but my mom is a fighter. She had to stay at the hospital for months, she endured countless medical examinations, had to take meds and slowly learned to live again. I’m so proud of my mother that she was strong and determined to get better. When she turned back home, I started to take care of her and I hate to leave her on her own, even if we’re talking about half an hour or less. Right now, she’s doing quite good, actually, we’re on vacation and she makes a great effort to participate in life in Italy. She’s my role-model! She will never be the same as before, but she won’t give up, she wakes up every morning to make progress. I prayed for her and her well-being, I prayed every single night she might get another chance and now we’re here at the beach and dining in fancy restaurants. It’s been a horrible year for everyone, a year full of sorrow, tears and desperation, a year where I was constantly afraid, the hospital would call me with some bad news, but she did it! She survived and she fights for her life! So proud! Good news is: I passed my doctoral exams and I’m officially allowed to call myself Dr. phil. des. Melanie C. but that won’t ever stop me from loving Team Rocket so here it is - a brand new Rocketshipping-fanfiction for you guys. LOVE YOU! Night shift

Chapter 1:

It was past ten o’clock when that miserable looking guy entered the diner. He inconspicuously sat down in the farthest corner of the café and immediately hid his face behind the menu card. Nevertheless, Jessie the waitress could make out the pathetic expression on his face, how he was cowering like a whipped dog. She had seen quite a bit in this diner. Drunks, thugs, addicts and other needy people who asked for a sympathetic ear, compassion and understanding, but that guy was different. He suffered terribly, but did not dare to communicate, instead he hid from the world so as not to attract attention and quietly endure his fate. Jessie had to do something about it. Of course, she didn’t want to play the Good Samaritan. She knew the tricks of the men who entered this diner. Most of the time, they told the waitress tall tales, hoping to be comforted, whatever they meant by that. But this young man did not make a shady impressionHe was well dressed, looked well-groomed, and Jessie was especially struck by his bright emerald green eyes, the only thing in his face that had not yet been veiled by grief and sorrow. She decided to do something about his displeasure.

“Did you have a rough day?” she asked while disinfecting the table.

He looked briefly into her eyes and nodded. “That’s one way to put it,” he answered, the gaze immediately lowered again.

This would be a taciturn conversation, but Jessie didn’t give up easily, she was a natural at making even rocks talk.

“Listen! No matter what happened, I’ve seen or heard some things. If I can help you in any way, my name is Jessie and I’m in charge of this table today. Let me just get the gum out from under your seat and get you a cold drink. What would you like?” She pulled a spatula from her apron and rubbed away the remains of the spoiled brats that marred her diner.

‘Wow,’ the young man thought to himself. ‘A strong, self-confident woman who lends a hand herself and who’s not above cleaning up dirt.’ Their eyes met briefly, and he forced a wry smile.

“You know, kid. You can’t rely on anyone. If you want to get everything done, do it yourself and don’t trust anyone. This world doesn’t give you anything for granted!” She briefly wiped the back of his chair before disappearing behind the counter and pouring the young man an ice-cold Coke.

“I have rarely seen you so concerned about a customer. Normally you show yourself aloof and only take the order, so as not to get involved in embarrassing conversations. Must be a really great pike, this pathetic creature in the far corner. Could it be that you’ve got a tiny crush on this guy?” For Eddy, teasing his best friend was the greatest pleasure. He didn’t know her like that. Jessie usually resisted any kind of small talk. This was due to her dark past, when she had repeatedly fallen for advances from men who were never looking for a steady relationship, but for a quick fix. Eddy had witnessed this bad time of his friend, how her heart was broken, how she was badly played with, and how she was simply dropped like a hot potato. Jack was the worst example of them all. While Jessie was already hearing the wedding bells ringing, he was making love to the women of the Strip and deceiving Jessie night after night with other broads. Jessie was devastated when she found out Jack was cheating on her. She was furious, not even at her lying boyfriend, but at herself for having been so stupid as to trust a man.

Jessie gave Eddy a light pat on the head. “Don’t be silly! That time is over. I can take care of myself, I don’t need male support for that. I’m a big girl, I make my own dough, and I keep my head above water pretty well. No, not a chance, I’ve sworn off flirting.” Nevertheless, she caught herself as her gaze wandered to the young man in the corner. “Oh yes, this time is definitely over,” Eddy smirked.

“Jessie, could you bring us a side of fries, please?” Misty’s order echoed throughout the hall. The twenty-year old waved her hands. She was used to speaking loudly, almost shouting, to attract guests to her daily water Pokémon show. Sometimes she walked up and down the streets of the Strip all day in the blazing hot sun, trying to win people for her underwater attraction. As an excellent student, she could have taught at any college, but she had decided early on to get into show business and make her living doing what she really loved, joined by Dewgong and Starmie. Her parents had not agreed with this decision at all, it was wasted talent, they had claimed, and had summarily turned Misty out the door. Since then, she had been struggling through life on her own, but could always count on Jess, the diner and her two best friends, Ash and Brock, young people who were also not favoured by fate.

“Temper your voice, twerp!” Jessie couldn’t help but grin. She spread the ketchup bottles around the table, hoping Ash wouldn’t spill on himself and the diner again. His constant companion Pikachu immediately hopped on his shoulder, grabbed a fry and popped it in his mouth. Ash and his Pokémon were carnies. He had trained his friend well and attracted many spectators with his performance. Most of them felt sorry for the guy and tipped generously. That’s why Ash was able to invite his friends to the diner every night, a place that gave them hope where they could experience security. They were convinced that nothing would ever disturb this idyll and that fate, for better or worse, had taken its course.

“Who’s that guy over there?” Brock wanted to know. He had barely sold chocolate and roses tonight. The others held back, but they were certain that their friend was just too pushy with women and that’s why he only collected rejections instead of green bills.

“I’ve never seen him here before. Must be from another area. I can’t tell you for the life of me why he’s wearing a suit at theses temperatures, he looks pretty pathetic to me anyways,” Jessie replied.

“Maybe his car has stalled,” Ash suggested, “and now he was forced to wander through the desert until the tasty aromas from your diner brought him back from his delirium.”

“Or,” Brock interfered, “he had to flee his own wedding because his wife is a real pain in the ass, unlike our sweet Misty,” Brock oohed at his friend. “Forget it, Brock! You and me, this will never happen!” She gave him a gentle poke.

“Enough now with your naïve speculations! Just let him enjoy his drink. We’re closing soon, so get going,” Jessie dismissed their absurd ideas with a wave of her hand, but at this point no one knew how right Brock was.

Dark thoughts hunted the young man. He knew what he would face at home if he was late. Beatings, torture, rebuke, harassment, were just a few words to describe his failed relationship. Unconsciously, he stroked his scarred arms.

“Can I get you something to eat?” Jessie pulled him out of the maelstrom of bad thoughts, of course she had noticed the wounds, but maybe he had gotten those injuries at work. The young man rummaged some coins out of his pants and let them jingle on the table. “Is that enough for a cheese sandwich?” Jessie hated small change, but she would make an exception for him. A friendly smile, a quick nod, and she passed on the order.

“Something’s wrong with this guy,” she whispered to Eddy. “He’s scarred, bruised and pays with penny coins. Possibly a vagrant.” Eddy couldn’t help but grin. “That guy’s been keeping you busy all night, Jess. What’s the matter with you? Are you getting weak?”

The young man could not overhear the conversation between the waiters, but he was sure they were talking about him. He sure made a rather frightening impression, but that was a private matter and not something you shared with a waitress in a diner.

His gaze drifted to the daily paper, which had two faces emblazoned on it: Butch and Cassidy. He had never heard of this odd couple, but according to the news, theses two were causing quite a stir and were terrifying the Strip.

“Oh, so you’ve already spotted them, those two knuckleheads! They keep the Strip in suspense, and heads roll when the taxes don’t add up,” Jessie served him the cheese sandwich and gave him a slight smile.

“Can I get you anything else?” He thanked her and took a hearty bite of his dinner.

The last half hour flew by and the remaining guests left the diner to spend the night on the Strip, as very few had a roof over their heads. Jessie set about cleaning up and Eddy checked the register.

The young man stood up and made his way towards the door. But before he left the diner, he glanced back at Jessie for a moment. A sigh escaped him. What if…?

Jessie returned his gaze and watched him go until the young man disappeared. She walked right up to his table and found a little note on the receipt.

“Thanks for treating me like a human being, James.” 

[feralnumberfive]

The Rewatch Academy: Episode 2 of Season 1

“Run Boy Run”

I am in no way a good analyst so my little analysis and speculations probably sound a bit goofy or pretty wild and probably mean nothing at all. Everything I put into this post about each episode is purely what I noticed or thought, whether it's funny or serious. I will be making jokes, so please just leave it at that (in no way am I trying to make fun of an actor and or character!) I am also in no way saying I noticed this stuff first. This is just what I noticed while rewatching these episodes

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

1x01 | 1x02 | 1x03 | 1x04

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

☂ Ben is a tired boy leaning on his chair

☂ Luther and Allison please stop making googly eyes at each other 

☂ Five really woke up and chose violence that day huh

☂ Diego already knows shit is about to go down and it’s so funny

☂ I love that Reginald doesn’t even scold Five for stabbing the table

☂ Five: “I have a question.” blah blah blah Veggie is talking Five: “I want to time travel.” That’s not a question, Five

☂ It’s interesting to see young Five blinking/jumping compared to older Five. Even at this age, 13, he says that he’s still practicing his spatial jumps. Young Five needs to clench his fists and almost squeeze his eyes shut just to concentrate. Older Five simply just teleports without effort and is able to casually blink even as he’s just walking. Five probably practiced teleporting a lot in the apocalypse 

☂ Someone else pointed this out, but all of the other Umbrellas are frozen for a for a second as Five teleports next to Reginald. While that freeze is just editing, and possibly a small error, this is another example of how Five’s spatial teleporting doesn’t make a noise. Luther, Diego, and Allison only look at Five when he begins talking to Reginald. Grace notices Five right away because he is in her line of sight while Luther and Diego were looking at where Five was sitting and Allison had her head down eating

☂ “The effects it might have on your body, even your mind, are far too unpredictable.” Harsh foreshadowing 

☂ The “Run Boy Run” scene is one of the best musical moments in all of the show. It gave me chills when I first heard it, and the fact that all of the lyrics that play during that part match so perfectly with it make it even better. Tomorrow is another day being sung as Five travels into 2019 is just too good 

☂ Imagine how scared you have to be to call out to your p.o.s father

☂ The instant regret immediately falls onto his face and he kneels in front of the Academy

☂ I love how in the first few episodes Five’s hair is styled exactly as it was when he was an old man and when he was actually 13. Over the rest of the season and the second season it just gets more disheveled and floppier 

☂ “You think I didn’t try everything to get back to my family?” Ahhhh there we go, one of my favorite Five lines. This here is probably when I truly fell in love with his character. He spent 45 years just trying to survive and attempting to get back to his family. He would have spent more too if the Handler hadn’t taken him in

☂ Vanya is genuinely trying to understand what happened and Five was being a little asshole. C’mon, bud, she’s just confused and hasn’t seen you in forever

☂ This Five and Vanya scene melts my heart (simply as a sibling relationship!!) She doesn’t care anymore if she understands, she just wants him to stay because she hasn’t seen him in a while. Even Five understands that as his demeanor quickly changes from being frustrated to gently telling her “Night.” He watches her as she leaves, also partially realizing that he hasn’t seen her in a while too

☂ Why didn’t Five just teleport outside of Vanya’s apartment?? That would have been the stealthiest thing

☂ “All quick and efficient skills.” A little note on Five’s level of skill of slaughtering the Commission agents in Griddy’s

☂ Diego said he bought his police badge on Ebay, so computers do exist in the UA universe

☂ “By the way, this thing might look like a botched robbery, but my gut’s telling me something else is going on here.”  Yeah, and that something else is your brother

☂ I want Claire to meet her uncles and aunt so bad

☂ So Ben has a ghostly puzzle book and pen he can use? Because if they were real Pogo would have been able to see them just floating in the air. What other ghostly items can Ben summon? (I believe this is more so just an error but it’s fun to think about)

☂  “I-I found it at a playground, actually. Must have just *click* popped out.” An underrated Five line

☂ Five immediately becomes aggressive at the thought of losing the eye, something he found clutched in the hand of his dead brother and was a clue to what caused the death of his siblings and the end of the world

☂ Just now noticed that you can see Diego up on the second floor being led down to where Patch is in the police station

☂ I really like that they added in the little tidbit about a cold case Five created 81 years ago

☂ I miss Patch. She deserved better and more screen time

☂ Hey, Diego might have been thrown out of the Police Academy but at least he’s still in The Umbrella Academy!

☂ Hearing Patch talk to Diego really made me realize that the Umbrellas weren’t even necessary for helping with crime. It was just Reginald’s way of training them

☂ Love the shot of Luther looking at Diego’s cross-stitch and the camera lining it up so it’s like he’s wearing the mask

☂ Five lying just to keep Vanya away and to continue on with his goal hurts. His goal is saving the world and his family, but I don’t think he actually took in what Vanya was saying to him or maybe he recognized the offer but shoved all of his feelings down. She was reaching out to actually get him some help and he lied to her to avoid that. Maybe he doesn’t care and is just blinded by his ultimate goal. Save the world and family first, then process your feelings and genuinely communicate with your siblings 

☂ Don’t worry Klaus, I would have let you wear that outfit

☂ When Cha-Cha questions “Five” aka the poor tow truck guy, she asks him about “The London job in ‘66.” I believe she is referring to the Shepherd’s Bush murders where three policemen were murdered

☂ Hazel replying “Not from what I’ve heard.” when Cha-Cha asks if he thinks Five is a whimperer shows that Five definitely had a reputation in the Commission for probably being a cold and stoic guy

☂ Vanya is just trying to help, chill Allison 😭. You haven’t seen her in years, what do you know about her?

☂ Klaus would really slap his brother in the face to get drug money

☂ Another example of Five not making noise when he teleports is when he blinks into the taxi and Klaus didn’t notice that he had left until he turned to look where Five was. On the other hand though the taxi driver does jump as Five suddenly appears in the car. However, I believe that might be from the driver noticing Five in a mirror in the car

☂ I wonder what languages the Hargreeves siblings know. Vanya didn’t understand Leonard’s German. You think Reginald would have taught them multiple languages or maybe she forgot it if she was taught it

☂ I don’t know why but Luther just siting there and reading a book and almost getting hit by the knife is really funny to me

☂ Yeah Diego doesn’t have to prove his innocence, but it would have saved a lot of trouble

☂ Rewatching the scene with Leonard talking to Vanya about his father is just disturbing when you already know what happened to him and how he’s lying just to try to be more relatable

☂ I heard a rumor that smoking is bad for you ❌

☂ Vanya calling to make sure Allison is okay even though she hurt her makes me sad. She’s so nice and thoughtful

☂ The old man can’t even reunite with his wife before he gets hunted down

☂ The shot of Hazel and Cha-Cha putting on their masks in the dark with the music is 👌👌

☂ Again, Cha-Cha isn’t able to hear Five as he teleports next to her and slices her arm. She might not have noticed him though because he was very quick to attack her

☂ Five really went through all of that just to bring his wife home

☂ I think it’s an easily blocked out part because we already know what Allison has to say and it’s exciting, but Luther is apologizing about accusing Diego and causing issues amongst his siblings

☂ Five is just so defeated and emotionally tired that he doesn’t allow Luther to touch him. In fact, he very quickly and aggressively grabs Luther’s wrist. You can tell Five is a little out of it and I believe it was more so his subconscious stopping Luther. Five doesn’t want help, he’s going to carry the burden of figuring out who ended the world and killed his family as far as he can by himself

☂ “There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing any of you can do.” Are such heavy lines. Five is so emotionally and mentally tired at the end of the day and he sounds like he’s about to breakdown. He’s replaying the moment he found his siblings’ corpses. They weren’t able to stop the person who ended the world. Luther is offering his help, but Five is denying it. Luther couldn’t stop the person who ended the world. None of his siblings were able to stop that person. He’s telling himself that they can’t help and he’s telling Luther and Allison that too. Five wants to be alone to figure out who this person is. His siblings can’t help him

☂ Five coming across the corpses of his siblings is just heartbreaking. He first stumbles across three adults lying in the rubble. One of them is holding an eye. He goes to shake the man in all black, having a tiny bit hope that miraculously he is still alive. He stumbles across another body only to back away with tears in his eyes as he spots the tattoo on the man’s arm and realizes who these people are

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

Feel free to comment or reblog with things you have noticed too!

[annaraebananawriter]

1: Just a Bad Dream; Dying in LA

PLEASE READ NOTE BEFORE STORY:

Yellow everyone! I just wanted to warn you that I’m still kind of recovering from burning myself out, so don’t expect anything too awesome this week. I think Day 1 is actually the best that I’ve written for it, so far, so...It’s really just for me to stretch my muscles out again and get back into the flow.

With that said, this is Dy 1 of Dark Cream Week by @zu-is-here

Fandom: Undertale, but specifically UTMV

Characters: Shattered Dream (Who belongs to Galacii), Cross (Who belongs to Jakei) and mentioned Nightmare (who belongs to Joku)

Pairings: For now, implied Cream/Dark Cream

Warnings: I can’t remember, so let me know!

Word Count: 2096

~oOo~

The moment you arrived

They built you up

The sun was in your eyes

You couldn't believe it

~oOo~

They say that fate determines how you end up in life.

They say that destiny determines what you do in life.

These two things work in harmony with each other, one influencing the other around and around in a never-ending circle. Everyone was touched by them before they were born, the seed for skills necessary to succeed planted in them, waiting to be grown. No matter what happens, nothing pushes you away from what fate and destiny have determined for you.

It does not matter if your actions are good. If you give everything away and help everyone you come across. If you love your friends and family and strangers unconditionally. If you ignore yourself in favor of others.

It does not matter if your actions are bad. If you spit and sneer at everyone around you. If you yell and hit in anger and hate. If you hold your needs in front of everyone else and ignore those who should have just a little bit of attention too.

It simply does not matter.

Your fate and destiny have been determined already.

Why bother changing it?

~oOo~

Riches all around

You're walking

Stars are on the ground

You start to believe it

~oOo~

Cross was familiar with loss and guilt. When you kill your family and friends, try to delete other worlds, you tend to do so out of pain, driven only by a desperate hope that you can fix what you’ve done. But you can’t. Actions have consequences and the world will not let you go without them. He knows this well, almost too well.

Nothing stops the hurt, though. He’s tried. It was still there, stinging through every bandage and healing balm. If it shrunk, it only grew stronger. Other people tried to help as well, but their efforts were also in vain. Guilt comes from the loss that his actions have caused and that guilt causes this pain that will always be there, no matter how small and weak it eventually becomes.

This was his consequence. He’s learned to accept that now.

He’s learned to walk through the hurt and try and be better.

It was hard, yes. Stumbling and tripping over his feet, hesitant to make any decision lest it be the wrong one and reset his progress. There were many times where he thought that he’d stepped over the line and that they were going to quit on him, leaving him alone again. But they didn’t. They stayed, and the stumbling smoothed out to captiousness, the hesitance smoothed into nervousness. He would not be as confident as he once was, not for a while yet, but it was a start.

He was trying. That’s all that mattered.

And now he can stand on a hill, look into the blue sky and see the colours surrounding him and he can smile. A small, serene smile made of pure content, pride for himself. He can relax his shoulders and just breathe for a moment or two.

Everything was getting better.

Until he looks to his left and see yet another consequence to his newer actions, what his pained words snarled in a patient yet hurt smiling face.

Until Dream takes that step off the edge.

~oOo~

Every face along the boulevard

Is a dreamer just like you

~oOo~

“Don’t touch me! Just…just stop trying to help!”

“I lost my entire family, my home, and he gave me the hope that I could get it back. Why should I believe that you’re not just giving me the exact same false hope?”

“Some guardian you are…”

“You don’t know anything about what I’ve been through!”

But Dream did, Cross realized it now.

Dream had lost his family, his home, too, in the blink of an eye. Not only that, but he was put in a position to fight his brother, whom had changed so much he might as well’ve been a stranger, over and over again. The pressure to do that and still be happy, or at least act like it, must’ve been immense. Cross couldn’t begin to imagine it.

They had both lost their family and been hurt in very similar ways.

Cross just wished he realized this sooner.

~oOo~

You looked at death in a tarot card

And you saw what you had to do

~oOo~

Cross didn’t try to stop Nightmare as he ran away.

He was focused on the skeleton in pain in front of them. The one who was crying, black sludge spilling down and covering his bones, tinted gold as if in reminder of what it used to be. The one who reached a hand up, to try and stop his brother from leaving, but didn’t get far before dropping it to the ground, another pained noise escaping him.

Cross was frozen. He willed his legs to move, instinct in his mind saying to turn and run away too, away from danger, away from him. But he didn’t. He stayed put, legs not listening and just watched.

Underneath the instinct was a different kind of pain. It burned instead of stinging and left his soul aching in a way he had never felt before. He was suddenly all too aware of the ring he kept in his pocket, one the skeleton in front of him had turned down. It made a lump grow in his throat and he swallowed, clenching his hands.

Dream hunched over, arms wrapped around himself.

And all at once, Cross realized something.

If his words had had any part in leading up to this…

His legs finally moved and he rushed forward, reaching for Dream, for the one he held so close to his heart, wrapping his arms around him, even though he could not shield him from something within.

If his actions had this consequence, if his consequence had given up on himself, then he would have to be the one that stayed, that brought him back.

He’ll do it, or die in the process.

~oOo~

But nobody knows you now

When you're dying in LA

And nobody owes you now

When you're dying in LA

~oOo~

If fate and destiny have predetermined your story, then what does it matter how you act? If your good or bad, what does it matter? What does it matter if all your actions just bring you back to the path, no matter how far you try and stray from it?

What does anything matter?

~oOo~

When you're dying in LA

~oOo~

Good can be bad and bad can be good.

This is a fact.

But does it change anything?

What does it matter?

~oOo~

When you're dying in LA

~oOo~

“I’m tired.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why can’t you see that I’m just like you?”

“Why do we have to be enemies?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry”

“Please…don’t leave me alone again…”

“I love you.”

~oOo~

The power, the power, the power

Oh the power, the power, the power

Of LA

~oOo~

Good is bad and bad is good.

What will change because of this?

~oOo~

Nights at the chateau

Trapped in your sunset bungalow

You couldn't escape it

~oOo~

Dream is familiar with emptiness and betrayal. He’s watched his home burn, his mother cut in half and his brother metaphorically die. All of these were caused by the villagers, people Dream once believed to be his friend, no matter how harsh they might’ve been at times. When you see everyone you care about die by the hands of someone you also care about, that is what causes the emptiness.

This emptiness did not mean he didn’t feel, no. He felt quite a lot actually. Happiness, grief, calmness, anger…love…he felt them all, some more so than others. They weren’t smothered or dulled in anyway by the emptiness. No, the emptiness was rather just a numbness he’s gained to certain situations. He can’t change it.

It was his consequence. He accepts this.

He hasn’t accepted fighting his brother nonstop until one of them is dead.

It was disorienting when he started, almost like he was trying to wake on quicksand and every step he took only dragged him further down. Everything was new. He had to learn fast how to shoot a bow, how to dodge, how to block, how to run. How to survive. All while his brother watched and laughed in amusement.

That was what hurt most of all. The amusement. Brothers were supposed to care for each other, help each other stay safe and heal from injuries. They weren’t supposed to laugh at you while you barely dodged the tentacle aiming for your soul. They aren’t supposed to be trying to kill you at all.

He hated it.

~oOo~

Yeah

~oOo~

Apples are dangerous. They’re enticing. You want to take a bite of it, regardless of the effects it’ll do to your body and soul, in what ways it’ll warp your mind. They beckon you and lure you in, until all you can think about is what it’ll taste like, that savoury bite.

Nightmare wasn’t able to resist this temptation.

And if the saying goes that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree…

Then it should only make sense Dream would follow in his footsteps.

~oOo~

Drink of paradise

They told you put your blood on ice

You're not gonna make it

~oOo~

Nightmare ran away from him.

The coward.

Dream doesn’t understand why. Brothers should support brothers when they decide to become better, to change how the world sees them, to try and prove they can’t be all good. They shouldn’t run, horror etched on their face as if this wasn’t supposed to happen, that he’d made such a terrible mistake.

“You can’t make mistakes, you’re positivity! You have to be perfect all the time.”

He runs his hands over each other, taking in the new coating of sludge while he waits for Cross, his lov—subordinate to wake up. It was just like Nightmare’s, the same consistency and everything, though his had a golden tint to it, rather than turquoise.

Of course.

Even corrupted, he was still positivity.

~oOo~

Every face along the boulevard

Is a dreamer just like you

~oOo~

He felt stronger. But weaker at the same time.

Was that a thing?

He felt like he could bend people to his will, make them listen just like he wants the entire multiverse to. He can’t stop thinking about people crying as he plays out illusion upon illusion in front of them, slowly dwindling their hope and love and any other positivity until it was completely shattered.

And yet, he can’t help but get the feeling that there’s a shakiness within him. Something is unbalanced, wobbling in his soul. It feels poisoned. He has no clue what it could be. He did everything the right way, he’s proven his worth, so everything should be fine now, right?

Everything was fine.

It had to be.

~oOo~

You looked at death in a tarot card

And you saw what you had to do

~oOo~

Cross groaned behind him, making Dream perk up. “…Night…mare?”

Were they really that similar now? Interesting. The thought that his brother and him can never stop being twins makes Dream giggle under his breath as he turns, smiling as Cross’s eyes widen.

“Not quite.”

~oOo~

But nobody knows you now

When you're dying in LA

And nobody owes you now

When you're dying in LA

~oOo~

Fate and destiny are predetermined things…but they are not a gift, no.

They are a curse.

Bad gets jealous of good and tries to prove he can be just the same as his counterpart, but only succeeds in cursing himself farther. Good is hurt by this and centuries go by.

Good gets desperate, nothing enough anymore, so he tries to prove tat he can be just the same as his counterpart, both succeeding and failing. He’s cursed himself, too.

Bad runs away, leaving good.

And now they’ve both strayed from their path.

~oOo~

When you're dying in LA

~oOo~

Good is bad and bad is good.

Or are they?

How can we tell? Who are we to say?

They will determine that for themselves, who is who.

~oOo~

When you're dying in LA

~oOo~

“…are you crying?”

“Don’t stop.”

“It feels amazing!”

~oOo~

The power, the power, the power

Oh, the power, the power, the power

~oOo~

Fate has bended and destiny is broken.

How will this change things?

~oOo~

Of LA

[petri808]

Bakudeku canon divergent, vampire quirk AU

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24

When Bakugou finally woke up in the Ena City Hospital, his head was splitting worse than a punch from Kirishima in full quirk, and ears rang with the force of all 108 New Year’s bell tolls. If he’d had no memory of the night before, Bakugou swore he’d just survived the worst hangover in history. Even his eyes hurt from the bright, piercing fluorescent lights and they weren’t even open! He turned his head to the side, noticing how much effort it took just to shift in such a small manner. It was as if his body was drained of... “Ugh, that bastard,” he groaned. ‘Fucker bit me.’ And as if to add insult to injury, a pin-prick pain in his neck revealed itself in that revelation.

His arm flopped up, hand straining with jerky strokes, reaching to touch the fresh bite wound located at the junction of his neck and shoulder. He flinched at the tender, bruising pain that sent a shock down his spine. Son-of— This just in! Pro Hero Dynamite cast in one of those cliché vampire movies that went straight to video. Definitely not the career start he’d envisioned.

“Oh, good you’re finally awake Mr. Bakugou.”

“Who the fuck are you?” he spat at the male voice. “And can someone turn the fucking lights off?!”

“I am Doctor Ishihira, and my apologies,” the doctor flicked off the overhead light. “Is that better?”

“Yeah,” he grumped.

“Mr. Bakugou, you were found yesterday morning and brought in suffering from hypovolemic shock due to severe blood loss and dehydration. We’ve treated you with 3 liters of IV fluids and blood plasma to bring your numbers back up, however you’ll still be groggy until your body replenishes the nutrients you were stripped of.”

Over a day had passed! At hearing he’d been out cold for so long, Bakugou immediately clenched his fists, swearing up and down about being released until they threatened to sedate him for longer. Longer?! He begrudgingly relented and settled down, but damn it! That meant Midoriya had another head start on him again! And now that the man knew he was on his trail, finding him would be a lot more difficult!

“What the hell is hypo-whatever shock?” Bakugou questioned.

“When you were found, you were in and out of consciousness and rambling incoherently, all signs of severe blood loss. The fatigue you’re still feeling is also due to the effects of it. Luckily the amount of loss wasn’t enough to start shutting down your organs.”

The doctor continued explaining a few more details regardless of the tantrum like a robot. Minor injuries he’d been treated for. The obvious puncture wounds in his neck, questioning Bakugou about any description he could provide of his attacker. He wasn’t about to tell this doctor or any authority figure who the true culprit was, so he feigned a temporary retrograde amnesia. Based on a raised brow, peering over his glass’s expression, the doctor didn’t look very convinced. Oh well, Bakugou really didn’t care about the man’s opinion.

“Mr. Bakugou, we also called you parents…”

“You what?!” Bakugou tried to jump off the bed, but his body absolutely refused to respond and ended up flopping like a dying fish. Ugh! He really was worse off than he’d thought.

“I’m sorry, but you are a minor, so we were obligated to do so. However, they did give us permission to treat and release you on your own recognizance once we felt you were better.”

Well, that was good news. ‘Sounds like mom actually listened to my letter.’ Or the authorities surely would have shown up by now. “Ugh! So, how much longer am I stuck here?”

“If you continue to recover well, tomorrow morning.”

Fuck! Now a three-day head start! Just great, he groaned. Midoriya could get far away with that kind of a jump start. “Fine, whatever! Now go the fuck away.”

The doctor left the room after explaining how nurses will be monitoring his progress, but to also let them know if anything started to feel worse. They needed to know if he developed any lasting effects from organ damage. Once he was alone again, Bakugou rolled gingerly onto his side as his mind processed the new information. Whatever Midoriya had been hit with must be the cause of this weird blood thirst that resembled a goddamn vampire plot line. Perhaps the significance of the blood coloring in his eyes was a sign of that thirst taking hold? That’ll be a handy tell, too bad it seemed to appear within seconds of the next step.

But if Midoriya had just fed on a victim, and history showed at times, a span of days before the next incident, what had caused his friend to attack him so fast? Was this thirst like a hunger? And what happens when you exercise or exert yourself? You use up energy. ‘Duh, Katsuki.’ Fighting and expending all that energy must have triggered the attack. ‘Wow, it burns fast.’ That meant Midoriya probably struggled to control this thirst, and that’s why he was pleading for him to leave him alone. But sorry, he couldn’t do that. ‘Fucker shouldn’t have run!’ One way or another he is getting his friend back home where he belonged. In fact, this only made his drive to find Midoriya stronger because he felt like he was partially to blame for the predicament his friend was in. The guy had to be scared, freaked out, and lonely. Bakugou’s heart clenched at the thought. He knew his friend was a social person by nature who loved being around friends and family. To be stuck out here all by himself and too frightened because of whatever this new quirk was had to be horrible… and utterly not fair. Of course, he did have a tendency to isolate himself when he feared…

Bakugou groaned. “Kami, not again with this shit!” When was Midoriya gonna learn to stop running away!

As his eyes relented to the fatigue and his mind slipped back into unconsciousness, Bakugou could only pray he’ll get a lead as soon as he got out of this hospital. This strange new quirk, if that’s really what it was, posed a serious danger not only to Midoriya, but the public. The reputation of pro hero’s had taken a major hit already because of AFO and the league, so if the public found out about a blood drinking hero attacking people… ‘I gotta get you out of here…’

After his encounter with Bakugou, Midoriya had rushed out of town as quickly as possible. Tears poured down his cheeks as he took off into the sky from having given in to the lust of this uncontrollable quirk. But he couldn’t stop it even if he’d wanted to. He’d learned the hard way right at the beginning that once it took hold of his mind, the only thing he could do was give-in or succumb to an even worse ravenous state that literally hurt. The pain of holding out on the hunger made him feel like a starved predatory animal that tore at his insides until he relented. In this state, the blood of any creature that came too close became a meal. But it was never enough. Animal blood didn’t satiate him in the same way that human blood did. Plus, he worried that if he let it get completely out of control, he might just end up killing someone. So far, he’d been lucky to leave them all unconscious but alive.

It was obvious that the light AFO had hit him with contained this strange quirk. How ironic, to take down a villain, only to be turned into one. That’s how Midoriya felt. How else could he feel? A hero wouldn’t hurt other people, so by taking the blood of others for sustenance, that made him a villain. Therefore, he couldn’t be a hero anymore. It must have been AFO’s plan all along once he’d realized he was losing. The villains end goal was to ruin hero society and this was definitely one way to do it. Take out his primary rival. The man poised to carry on a torch of safety and security, and snuff out any who chose to do harm… The whole situation with Bakugou really turned this into a nightmare out of body experience. To see his friend’s eyes suddenly show fear, then fade away the more he drank… his mouth clamped to the man’s neck… it was a horrible imagine that was sure to haunt him. He could still smell the burnt cinnamon from such a close encounter. If only he had clothes to change into or even a pond to bathe in, because that lingering scent was gonna drive him mad!

Midoriya curled up and clenched his eyes shut tight in an abandoned and overgrown castle he’d found outside of Ena. It didn’t look like it’s been maintained for a very long time, so the likelihood of a human showing up seemed low. He knew he should have travelled farther away, but he was too tired, too upset and just wanted to quit. All the years of growing up quirkless, to gain OFA and become the very thing he’d dreamt of, only for those dreams to be dashed again. It was as if life just didn’t want him to be a real hero. Maybe he should just put himself out of his misery, and yet— he couldn’t do it. To die out here alone where no one knew where he was or what had become of him, that wasn’t fair to his family and friends…

They must be so worried about him right now. His poor mother didn’t deserve any of this. Would his friends look down on him now? And All Might, his idol, who’d taken him under his wing, was he disappointed? And that just left Bakugou. He’d said the truth in answering the man’s question. No, Midoriya never would have expected him to come looking. Katsuki Bakugou giving a damn about him? Yeah, right. Bakugou wasn’t doing this because he cared. There was always a selfish reason behind his madness. Fear. Anger. Jealousy. Shouldn’t big bad Dynamight be thrilled that his biggest rival was gone?

Okay that was a big, fat white lie he’d been telling himself for the last two years. He knew Bakugou had moved past those pettier behaviors, but it was simply easier to believe and keep their relationship as rivals than to hope his childhood friend would ever see him as something else. And yet… ‘Kacchan was genuinely surprised by my answer. Did he really come looking for me because he cared that much?’ Yet in what way? Why was the man trying so hard? Did he… ‘miss me?’

Midoriya shook his head violently of those thoughts. No, no, he didn’t want to believe that because it would make this situation even more unbearable than it already was! He’d already given up everything he’d ever loved. His hopes and dreams, a future and losing an affection he’d craved for years would just simply be too much.

[spriteandnicotine]

Smoke- Prologue

Pairing-> Prince Zuko x Fem! reader Word Count-> 1.4K+ t/w: minor character death/ background character death, death during childbirth a/n: hullo I am sorry I know this is going to be a prince Zuko x reader; this part is pretty much pure angst, and there isn't much Zuko but in parts 1 2 and 3 there is a lot more :D  (the other parts are linked below!) each part is tagged with it's own trigger warnings and word count. Enjoy <3 Also: a special thanks to @megalodon-writes​ for support with inspiration and @gayforgreen-martians​ for helping me edit.  Prologue        Part 1       Part 2       Part 3

Growing up in the Fire Nation is harder than expected. Especially being a commoner. Nobility and those who have rank at war were most definitely treated better. As a twelve year old, your job is to go to school and help your dad pick fruits to sell at the market.

One day after school, your father pulls you aside as the sun sets on the apple trees in your orchard.

"Y/N, we need to talk. It's about your mother,” you freeze in place, of course you had a mother, this conversation being inevitable, but he never broached the subject with you before. You set the bucket full of apples on the ground and turn to face him.

"I know I should have told you this sooner. I've been telling you all this time that she was away, but that isn't the case,” you can hear the anguish in his voice and see the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. "She passed away while giving birth to you. For the longest time I couldn't look at you without seeing her, and it shattered me to pieces every time. I can't help but blame myself. I'm the one who wanted a kid."  Lowering his voice suddenly, he says, "She wasn’t even a part of the Fire Nation." His shoulders shake violently as rough sobs escape his throat.

"Dad, it's okay,” you move closer, pulling him into a hug. You have never seen your father cry before. The life you have is fairly simple, and there isn't a lot of difficulty. The bills are paid for, and you have food on the table. Sure, you may not afford the nicest things, but it’s enough to survive.

"But... what do you mean she wasn't a part of the Fire Nation?" You ask, whispering into his ear. His response is to immediately squeeze you tight. 

"I'll let you know when the time is right, but can you promise me one thing Y/N? Please, for me." While his voice is hoarse, you can tell there are no more tears coming from his golden eyes.

"Whatever I can, Dad,” you reply, releasing your arms from around his back and stepping away to look at him.

"Don't try to bend the elements. I know the kids at school are getting more and more anxious about their lessons, but it's very important that you follow my advice."

"Sure, I can do that," You respond, turning back around. 

You picked up the basket and walked over to the tree with plenty of honeycrisps dangling from the branches. Picking the largest, you spotted a hole on the side that was most definitely from a worm. You bent down to the earth, setting it softly next to the tree. The best part of picking apples is that if one is bad, you can set it next to the same tree it came from and it will decompose, ensuring the tree gets plenty of nutrients for the following year. 

Picking the next biggest, you inspected it and added it to the basket once it was confirmed there was no bruising or holes. "I filled the basket dad. I'm going to go back to the house and start on my homework," you say, pivoting towards the shack that you call home.

Once inside, you set the wooden bucket down on the small table. In your room, you could still smell the rose that had withered yesterday. On your bed is a book on the history of the Fire Nation, along with parchment for you to write an essay about your favorite Fire Nation General. Thankfully, it isn't due for a week, so you can rest for tonight.

Sighing, you sit down on the bed, resting your back against two pillows strategically placed for comfort. Your mind begins to wonder about your best friend, June, at school. She is able to bend fire decently well, and her parents were preparing her to join the war effort once she was old enough. Of course, it is years away, but she is as determined as ever.

Recently, though, June had begun to get picked on because of her abilities. Another student at the school, Bo, is relentless. During lunch, Bo sits across from us and burns our meat with his fire bending. He thinks he can get away with anything, since his dad is one of the most trusted generals in the Fire Nation. It makes your blood boil, that even though both June and you would tell him to knock it off, he never did.

Snapping back to reality, you glance at the window, looking outside. The sky is dark, the moon and the stars are casting a soft light into the room. The front door creaks as it is opened and shut. Your dad has just finished harvesting apples for the day. Satisfied knowing you were safe, you lay your head back and shut your eyes.

The next day, you wake to the birds chirping outside of your window. You stood up and put on a red dress with black leggings underneath. You quickly follow up with brushing your teeth. After making sure your hair is out of your face and sliding on some red flats, you grab your school book and head out the door.

Immediately, you notice gossip is soaring throughout the village. Prince Zuko has been banished from the Fire Nation. He is roughly your age, and you find it odd that a father could tell his son to leave and not come back.

Arriving at school, you take your seat quickly. Bo showing up next, taking an empty seat next to you. "Hey, Y/N!" He taunts, holding up a ball of fire.

You pray that Sensei will walk in any moment now. The kids in your sixth grade class only cheer Bo on. June opens the door to the classroom, and Bo turns to face her. 

"I'm not going to fight you, Bo. I'm better than that,”  June says, swiftly moving past him to the seat behind you. 

"You might be better than that, but Y/N can't even bend fire,”  Bo sticks his tongue out at you, making you cringe.

His arm reels back, carefully preparing to launch the fireball at you. You cross your arms and put them up, doing your best to cover your face. Seeing the red hot flames heading your way, you close your eyes tight, hoping it won’t hurt too bad.

You hear gasps from around you, and smell a hint of smoke in the air. When you open your eyes, you not only see the smoke, but also a brief image of Bo as he runs from the classroom.

Almost everyone around you is staring with wide eyes. You turn to face June, a baffled look on your face.

"W-water,” she chokes out confused. “You’re a water bender."

Within minutes, guards arrive to drag you away. Hands bound behind your back, they are pushing you towards none other than the middle of the village square. Villagers are standing around gawking, jaws hanging open. They know you and your father well. Even if the two of you live in poverty, the fruits that you sell at the market are most definitely the best around.

Scanning the crowd, you spot your father. He pushes through, and when someone doesn’t budge he threatens them with his fire bending skills. You are told to kneel before the general, and without hesitation, you obey.

Bo's father steps out from the shadows, looking down on you. "My son saw this girl bend water. Multiple students in the class confirm his story. As punishment, you are exiled,” he pauses. “You are to be sent away on board a ship, banished until you learn to control yourself. You embarrass this village. I hope to never see you again," he said, turning and going back to where he came from.

The guards tug at your arms, signalling for you to get up. As they are walking you towards the shipyard, your father comes up behind one of them, shooting fire towards the guard to your right. The guard turns around and yells for backup. You watch in awe as your father is tackled to the ground, his eyes red from crying, the tears staining his face.

The guard to the left of you simply tugs and you follow, determined not to show the Fire Nation any sign of weakness. You can bend water, and suddenly your father’s words from the day prior echo in your head. A sense of dread fills you as you are led away from the only place you have ever known.

“She wasn’t even a part of the Fire Nation.”

[namgee]

where there are no notes (1/2) | jjk

❥ pairing: jungkook x reader ❥ genre: angst, fluff, fantasy (ish, probably very little ) ❥ summary: In a society where unsung notes meant the inevitable demise of one’s life, you spent the entirety of your own surviving on small snippets of sounds, whispered careful so to only be heard by your own ears. Never could you have imagined the magnitude your shy voice would take in the ears of the town’s curious prodigy. For Jungkook, there is hope but can he manage to bring out your unsung notes? ❥ word count: 1.9 k ❥ warnings:  mentions of death, brief mention of violence/alluding to violence ❥ author’s note: This is just a cute lil idea I’ve had for a while that has been siting in my drafts, so I wanted to try out something new i guess. This is a part of a two shot. The next part should be up around the same time next week (i write slow okay T_T). Also sorry for any mistakes ;( . I hope you enjoy ;))

Whenever you sang, even for a small while, everything around you wilted, grays creeping in, dark tones accentuating themselves further. unrhythmic notes bouncing off onto blank walls to hit back at your curious ears. You sang, but never long enough to let your voice and its frailty travel through the cracks present on old squeaky doors and windows and allow your unknown regular visitor, whose steps emitted careful tones that tickled your attentive ears, to hear you sing.

At nights, just like this one, where you feel less alone now that much can’t be seen, you dare to open your mouth, to push with hesitant muscles against your stomach, to feel the vibrations rise through your chest and let the unpracticed sounds leave your barely open mouth. Only then, your eyes shielded by darkness, unable to bear witness to the way your voice murders all color, do you manage to let some of it go and grow into the air.

Unlike the rest of your family you managed to escape. It’s the least you can do, sing a little, night by night for yourself and to remember the lost voices of your loved ones.

Just like you, they didn’t sing often, only enough to stay alive, the collective burden of your voices too much for their eyes to bear.

Your family wasn’t like the others, unable to do the very thing that keeps them alive and colors their loved land. For that they had to pay the price. There were only so many singing evaluations you could manage to escape with the help of the few kind hearted people you encountered. It was only a matter of time until silence raised suspicions, ones that turned into interrogations that revealed your malign voices.

The problem was dealt with however they saw fit. Helping would have been too much of a bother, the easy way out, was simply to cleanse the bad fruits from the rest. It was in well accustomed darkness that your family was muzzled, left alone as the little life they had managed to conjure up with their disjointed singing, wilted into extinction. You, the youngest all of them all, had been left to watch them leave as silently as they lived.

Restless, bordering on lifeless, you laid down on the floor awaiting your time, listening to the rhythmic sounds of coarse boots as they echo louder than you, setting its tone on the long hallway bordering your freezing cell, the same way the notes you admired with pitiful eyes coloured your favourite music sheets.

You had thought the steps had come to give the last order to your heart, like a director swings his stick to welcome the end. Anticipating it all you drifted off, lighthearted in your mind, but heavy in your chest from all unsung melodies. If only you had known that in fact, what was coming to you wasn’t an end, but the light taping of the director’s stick against his stand, letting you know, the beginning is near.

Call it what you want, a miracle, a blessing, a sign. Someone must have sang life back into you as you had found yourself by the gate of your house. Someone had thought that the sheet of your life still had room for more uncertain notes, no matter how rare they were to you.  

Every couple of days, the rustling vegetation outside would indicate the arrival of your unidentified visitor. You don’t know who they are, only that they come by once in a while to sing healing melodies. However sweet and familiar the gesture is, your curiosity never arises. The short life you’ve so far had has already sung its notes to you, clear and harsh: nobody can be trusted.

Tomorrow is your birthday. Like all the previous years, the night before, clinging to childish hope that your heart can speak louder than your mouth, you wish to magically wake up with the ability to sing. You didn’t have to have the most beautiful voice, you just wanted to sing. Yet, for the past years, every birthday morning has been quieter than the other. So when you wake up, you keep silent. Your wish has not been granted.

You go through the day ravaging your dead sister’s drawer for her piano sheets. Your family couldn’t sing notes, but they could play them. You continue searching for the light notes of childhood songs, a little birthday tune to color your day. As the night settles, so does that the need to do something about this day. You never asked for much, but if you were going to keep living like this, a little celebration and room for your frustration should be acceptable on such a day.  

The rush of the ocean waves crashing against your closed window frame get you to hurry. You cover up as much as possible, sneaking out of your estate. You didn’t want to surprisingly find out that your secret visitor decided to come by and risk getting caught. Even the kindest voice could house hatred in the worst scenarios.

You rush into town with trembling limbs. There’s a definite lack of energy for you to be exerting this much effort. Tonight, you had chosen not to sing. The day was meant to celebrate you for you, the you that is everything except her inability to carry out pleasant notes.

Head down, you stumble your way through the stores prompting a few curious glances. Hand weighed down by a small plastic bag, you head towards the park. It’s vast enough for you to find some place secure to sit under gleaming stars and far enough to allow you to scream and free some of that heaviness in your chest without having to face the competing crashing sound of ocean waves. And you do just that, you scream, voice amplifying more as the sweet mixture of cheese cake and liquor settles in your body.

The walk back home is as slurred as your incoherent mumbling about any random sad or happy subject that your fleeting mind manages to catch. With your hazy vision, head somehow hanging even lower than before it takes a lot longer to find your way to one of the many gates of your estate. One you thought you had closed upon your departure. Apparently not. Usually, your first instinct would have been to hide, even if it’s your home, your property. After all, who would like to lay claim on something you’ve disregarded for so long. Your reality doesn’t matter, people only judge what they can see.

Yet, you stand still, leaning onto the cool metal of the gate, anchoring your stance. With the backdrop of the rising sun and clearing night, you watch as your sunflowers radiate with warming yellows and dark chocolatey centers. The scene doesn’t register in your mind given your non-existent belief in drunken thoughts. Your uncoordinated limbs manage to shift your body past the entrance, allowing you to peek into the corner.

Now that you can see the person colouring your estate does the dainty sound of soft melodies reach your ears. Shivers lay a claim on your condition, the plastic bag filled with the remains of your pitiful night falling down. You take full breath, the rejuvenating sound lightens your mood and brings a smile to your lips. The more you listen, the warmer you get, not because of the beauty in the sound but because of its uncanny familiarity. You let your mind wander, as inept as it might still be in your current state, and let it trace back to the oldest memory you have of any similar feeling.  

It all goes by quickly. Creases adorn your face with every rushing image of your time back in the cell, weak, desperately hanging by any thread of hope you had managed to conjure up. The doom-like sound of incoming steps on that very day you managed to leave abruptly ceased. You know something happened, but the solution is still unknown to you. But the current melodies colouring the incoming sea breeze feel like an answer.

The man ahead of you keeps singing, eyes closed as his hair, tucked behind his ears, frees itself to sway in the breeze. Out of curiosity, or maybe enchantment you walk closer. His voice booms with a growing intensity and the sudden gush of energy has you stepping back far enough to stop being entranced with his presence and realise the new state of your estate.

For the first time in your life you get to see past the potential of your home and get to witness the vibrancy it can own. Your parents were well-off as professional musicians and music educators. They took advantage of that and set to live by the sea, far from the prying eyes of the bustling city.

The land was vast, it was covered with unkempt vegetation that blocked the small gravel pathways leading to your home. Surprised by your own thoughts you avert your gaze up to look at the tall building. It’s unusual for you to call it your home, now that you’re the only one residing in it. But it is your home, no matter how much you wish to detach yourself from it, given the pain it has brought you. That’s something this mysterious man singing life back into it is making you realise. Is this what you had been missing your whole life?

This sweet and calming feeling you’re getting every time you take a breath. The happy, giddy bouncing of your eyes as you try your hardest to look at every nook and cranny of your home and garden. You wouldn’t want to miss any transformation happening before your eyes.

The man suddenly turns to you and on instinct, you look away, head facing down. He sings, erasing the little space in between you as his boots come into your constricted field of vision. Your body reacts the only way it knows to, out of fear, as you fist your hands and screw your eyes shut, trembling from the intensity of your force. He sings and you get warmer. Your body is being bathed in a pool of positive emotions few of which you know how to place. For now you sum it all up into happiness, and it all feels good, you conclude. Addictively good.

The sound rustling sound of plastic clashes with the fading melody of his voice. You don’t dare to open your eyes. Your body and heart surely are betraying you but your mind contains the memories of your life, wired to make you act on instinct which is what you do when he reaches for your hand, his warm fingers brushing your fisted ones as he attempts to place the bag where it was.

You jump back, hands slapping away at unknown feelings as you rush into your house, heartbeat banging against your eardrums. The door slams hard enough for a painting to fall off the wall. You distance yourself from the door, ragged breaths and shaky limbs. Simply from memory you’re in your current crumbling state. The last time someone had touched while you were still conscious shouldn’t be something worth remembering. As your body fears for your survival, the soft and warm singing resurges.

Your breath starts to even out, pulsing calming down only to spike at a question no one, not even yourself, has ever asked you before.

“Don’t you want to learn how to sing?”

[ibijau]

Worst engagement AU! What lxc uncle think nhs behavior?

Worst engagement AU

I could have just answered but I’m procrastinating on stuff so...

1 Qingheng-Jun does not like the idea of an arranged match, but Lan Qiren insists. He points out the need for a strong alliance, the old friendship with Qinghe Nie, the casual aggressions of Qishan Wen against its neighbours, the mounting disrespect against its allies. 

He does not mention that, left to their own devices, people in their family have a tendency to choose horrible spouses for themselves. He doesn't say that he wants something safer for his nephew, one of the boys he's raising because their father decided to shroud himself in guilt and sorrow rather than do his duty to them and his sect. 

He knows he doesn't need to voice it to be understood. 

Qingheng-Jun does not like this, but he agrees to take Lan Xichen to Qinghe. When he comes back, he has an engagement contract in hand. Lan Xichen's future is set, and he will be protected from his own passions. 

It does not occur to Lan Qiren to ask for details about that Nie boy. He doesn't really matter. 

2 Lan Qiren is simply not prepared for his sweet, hard-working, obedient nephew of thirteen to go through teenagehood and all the moods it entails. He keeps hoping to be spared from it, but it's all in vain.

While returning from a visit to Yunmeng Jiang where Lan Xichen was brought along to learn the ropes of his future duties, they stop at an inn. Lan Xichen was pensive all day but it's when they retire for the night that he finally explodes into teenagehood. 

“There must have been better options,” Lan Xuchen says as they get ready for sleep, and while they were not talking about anything, it's easy to guess what he means. “If we need an alliance with Qinghe Nie so badly, why not Nie Mingjue?”

“It would be inconvenient for two sect leaders to marry,” Lan Qiren patiently points out.

Thankfully, Lan Xichen sees the logic of this. He also gets that this eliminates Jiang Wanying, who will someday rule his own sect. The same goes for Jin Zixuan, although since he’s in his own arranged engagement since longer than Lan Xichen, he could never have been an option anyway.

“Sect Leader Jiang’s ward then?” Lan Xichen suggests, removing the last of his outer layers. “If they adopted him, it would have been a perfectly respectable union.”

That idea gives Lan Qiren pause. Wei Wuxian was mostly kept at a distance for their visit, but he's heard rumours. He is not looking forward to teaching that child, and he would not want him to permanently live in the Cloud Recesses, not if he's anything like his mother.

“The Jiangs would never have adopted him,” Lan Qiren explains in a dry voice, unwilling to share certain details to his nephew of just thirteen. “And without a formal adoption, he is not a fitting spouse for a sect leader. He’s just a servant’s son.”

“Nie Huaisang is the son of a… a dancer! At least Wei Wuxian’s parents were both cultivators, shouldn’t that count more?”

“Nie Huaisang is the legitimate son of a sect leader. His mother’s weaker blood is unfortunate, but compensated by his father’s.”

Lan Xichen ragefully folds his clothes. He’s doing such a poor job of it that they’re sure to be wrinkled in the morning. Rebellion. Teenagehood. 

“Then… then the Wens! Why not…”

“The Wens only marry within their own sect, or with their most faithful dependant,” Lan Qiren cuts him, getting impatient. “Gusu Lan will not submit itself to their authority. They were never an option. Neither is anyone else. You will marry Nie Huaisang, secure us a good alliance with the second strongest sect in the country, and that’s it.”

“I don’t like him.”

Lan Qiren sits on his bed, glaring at his nephew. Why do young boys always make things so hard? 

“This is not about personal affections, Xichen,” he scolds. “You’re old enough to understand these things now. We need a strong alliance with another sect. It should fall on your father, he should remarry but… you know how he is.”

Lan Xichen looks struck, but nods. If Lan Qiren feels the absence of his brother, the burden of a duty that should not be his, he can only imagine what the situation is like for Lan Xichen, always kept at arm's length by his surviving parent. 

Lan Qiren sighs, and motions for his nephew to come sit next to him. Lan Xichen obeys. Teenagehood has not fully gotten him yet. 

“The Wens are starting to have dangerous ideas,” Lan Qiren explains patiently. “There is no way of knowing if it will come to a war or not, nor when that war might happen. But Gusu Lan cannot be left without friends, and Qinghe Nie wants to have support from somewhere that would be less exposed to Qishan Wen so they have a place to fall back to if they are attacked. You can see why that would be important, can’t you?”

“Why me? Why not Wangji?”

“His time will come as well, but for now you have to do your duty. The marriage will not happen for many years and even when it does, it will not have to impact you so much. You will continue living as you had before, with Nie Huaisang in your house… or not. If it turns out you two are too incompatible, we will give him his own quarters far from you, and you will see him no more than a guest. But this is important, Xichen. Our sect needs you to accept your responsibility so we can all live a little safer. It is a small price to pay.”

It is a lot to ask a boy of thirteen, but in spite of his newly discovered capacity for rebellion, Lan Xichen eventually nods. 

Lan Qiren feels proud of the boy. If they can kill any sentimentality in him, he'll be a great sect leader someday, unlike his father. 

3 Although Nie Huaisang is now a guest in the Cloud Recesses, Lan Qiren has given him as little thought as if the boy were still in Qinghe. There is simply too much to take care of, between helping Nie Mingjue find his footing, keeping an eye on Wen Ruohan, internal affairs in Gusu Lan, pleas for help against evil, and his current batch of students. 

Once or twice, Lan Qiren does check on the boy, if only because his work is abysmal. Each time, Nie Huaisang trembles like a leaf and swears he'll try harder. It's a little concerning, a sect leader's spouse should have a little more backbone than this, but he's still young and there are also advantages to a quiet, obedient husband. 

They are well into the second half of the school year when Lan Xichen comes to find his uncle and tells him that Nie Huaisang is being bullied by some of the other boys, possibly quite violently. 

"Jin Zixun had his sword near his face!" Lan Xichen explains. "Nie gongzi says they were just playing but he'd been crying! I tried to make him complain against them, but he protected them!" 

"If he doesn't ask for justice, there's little we can do," Lan Qiren points out.

"He's an idiot. Does he think I'll come save him each time?" 

Lan Qiren shoots his nephew a warning look. It's no secret that Lan Xichen bears his fiancé little affection, but until now he's always been smart enough not to devolve into insults. This is a worrying development, even more than whatever cruel game Jin Zixun has invented this time. 

"Be kind, Xichen." 

"I'm trying. It's just hard to be kind to him. Whether I'm nice or not, he still looks at me with fear, so what's the point?" 

"If kindness were always easy, we would not need so many rules about it." 

His nephew pinches his lips and keeps silent, which is apparently the latest expression of teenagehood in him. Certainly it is better to say nothing than to speak unnecessarily, but Lan Xichen pushes that a little too far lately. 

That day Lan Qiren is too busy to deal with such rebellion, so he just dismisses his nephew. But the situation is concerning, and he starts paying more attention to what's happening with Nie Huaisang. 

It quickly becomes clear that, indeed, Jin Zixun has chosen the boy as his victim. It is equally clear that Nie Huaisang is aware of it, and flees from him as much as possible. The boy is not completely stupid. 

It is more alarming to see Lan Xichen consistently avoiding his fiancé, often going out of his way not to cross his path and have to so much as greet him. No wonder then that someone like Jin Zixun feels free to act however he likes with Nie Huaisang.

Lan Xichen, when confronted about it, denies it. He says he does not want to create problems for Nie Huaisang by showing him too much favour, so nobody will be able to say he only passed his year because the Gusu Lan Sect was treating him more kindly than other students.

A flimsy excuse if Lan Qiren ever heard one. 

It's a shame, almost, that Nie Huaisang’s efforts are starting to pay off. If he failed his exams, he'd have to stay another year in the Cloud Recesses. It would give Lan Qiren time to devise something so those children learn to somewhat get along. Love is neither expected nor desired for their match, but they need to be able to work together. 

It is really too bad that Nie Huaisang is doing better in class lately. 

Deceit is against every rule of Gusu Lan of course, but rules have been bent before. Nie Huaisang is clearly used to failure. How bad could it be if he failed again? 

4 Bad. 

It’s very bad.

At least now, they know that Nie Huaisang can show some character when needed.

5 It is evident, from the moment he steps again into the Cloud Recesses, that something has changed in Nie Huaisang during the few weeks he returned to Qinghe.

Some of the change is physical. He’s gotten a bit of a growth spurt, even if he’s still fairly short. The way he carries himself seems to hint that he has gained some muscle as well, meaning his brother probably punished his failure and outburst by making him train intensively. He no longer looks like such easy picking for whoever will be the chief bully this year, though perhaps that has less to do with teenagehood finally catching him and more with the way he looks at everyone and everything around him as if he’s ready to fight them if they say one single wrong word.

It’s not a bad development, Lan Qiren decides. After all, that’s an attitude very typical of Qinghe Nie, so it’s only normal that Nie Huaisang is giving signs he will develop into the same sort of strong man as his father and brother. And considering how well Lan Xichen gets along with Nie Mingjue, it’s certain that he will start liking his fiancé a little better now that he isn’t so meek. Combined with the weekly meetings that Lan Qiren has ordered for them, everything will sort itself out.

6 Nie Huaisang refuses to meet with Lan Xichen until Lan Qiren orders him to in person, and then debates how long those meetings are supposed to last until lan Qiren tells him that he has to stay for a incense stick’s time.

Later, Lan Xichen tells him that Nie Huaisang left the instant the stick finished burning up. His barely contained indignation is rather amusing, considering just days before he was complaining he did not want to spend any time with Nie Huaisang.

7 Somehow, Nie Huaisang appears to have become friends with Jiang Wanyin, which is excellent. Intersect friendships will serve them well in the future, if (when) the Wens make their move, and Lan Xichen has never been the best at making friends. If Nie Huaisang can do that for the both of them, he’ll already have done his part in the marriage that is to come.

It’s a little more concerning that Nie Huaisang seems to get along even better with Wei Wuxian, who is quite likely the worst trouble maker that Lan Qiren has ever had the displeasure to teach. But Nie Huaisang has shown in the past that he is a good, obedient, dutiful boy, so nothing bad should come out of this.

8 “Alcohol? In the Cloud Recesses?”

Nie Huaisang manages to stay as emotionless as his two friends, but his heavy blush betrays him.

9 “Breaking curfew to go to Gusu?”

Nie Huaisang blushes less this time.

10 “An indecent book!”

Nie Huaisang schools his features into perfect surprise, and doesn’t blush at all.

“Really? Who would dare?”

“You, apparently. The person from whom it was confiscated said it actually belonged to you.”

Nie Huaisang gasps, one hand on his heart, the very picture of wounded innocence.

“Master, I would never! I know the rules of the Cloud Recesses too well, and I know as well that my brother would never approve of me owning such books.”

“So it is no concern to you if it is destroyed?”

The half second of hesitation on the boy’s face is enough to confirm that he is, in fact, guilty of being the owner. Books like this don’t come cheap. And yet, Nie Huaisang manages to smile as he gets into a passionate discourse about the need to protect the youth, and how he simply doesn’t understand how anyone could ever taint their own mind with that filth.

Lan Qiren is more impressed than he would care to admit. 

11 Lan Xichen looks so shaken when he returns from the river that his uncle worries something went wrong.

“What were they doing, then?” he asks.

His nephew startles at the question and opens his mouth a few times, but can’t seem to get any sound out. He’s looking rather like a fish. A goldfish, with the way he starts blushing.

“They were just playing,” Lan Xichen eventually manages to say, carefully avoiding his uncle���s eyes.

“Playing… how, exactly?” Lan Qiren insists, doubt creeping in his mind.

Lan Xichen’s blush deepens.

“Just swimming and splashing each other,” he squeaks in a very odd voice. “Nothing forbidden, or I would have intervened.”

Ah.

So that means all this blushing and awkwardness is Lan Xichen’s own fault rather than that of Nie Huaisang and his two friends.

Teenagehood. 

It always ruins the best people and turns them stupid for a few months, a few years if they’re unlucky. Lan Qiren had hoped that his nephew, like him, would be spared the most embarrassing parts of it, now that the rebellion phase has calmed. 

That’s not a mess Lan Qiren wants to deal with. He sends his nephew away, reminding him to not skip his mediation time.

He’s going to need all the meditation he can get to survive that mess.

12 Wei Wuxian leaves the Cloud Recesses in disgrace. While it is always annoying to have failed as a teacher, Lan Qiren is glad to see him go. Without his bad influence, Nie Huaisang and Jiang Wanyin are sure to get in less trouble now.

13 Well, at least Jiang Wanyin gets in less trouble.

14 Lan Qiren notices how Lan Xichen looks at Nie Huaisang when he thinks nobody is paying attention, how he now makes subtle efforts to find himself on his fiancé’s path when possible.  He notices as well that Lan Xichen has bought some different incense sticks during his last trip to Gusu, sticks that burn a little more slowly than the old ones.

If Lan Xichen has to start falling prey to the sentimentality that plagues their family, Nie Huaisang is perhaps not the worst option out there. For one thing, they are already engaged, Qinghe Nie is a strong ally, Nie Huaisang is smart even if he has a strong aversion to cultivation matters, he is on friendly terms with the young masters of several sects small and big at this point.

It would be fine, if Lan Qiren didn’t see how Nie Huaisang is now the one who’ll walk away if he spots Lan Xichen nearby, how he instead exchanges looks with some of the other guest disciples (sometimes even with Lan disciples).

Lan Qiren thinks of his brother, so many years ago, constantly watching a girl who never spared him a second glance until he became her only chance to stay alive. He had hoped to spare his nephews from this pain. He tried so hard to make them reasonable, to teach them to put their feelings aside, all for nothing. Lan Xichen somehow manages to have unrequited feelings for his own future husband, and Lan Wangji… the least is said on that matter, the better.

Lan Qiren wonders how he managed to fail those boys.

Perhaps there’s just a curse on their family. He’ll have to seriously look into that.

15 Lan Qiren takes his poor, inebriated nephew by the shoulders. It takes a few seconds for Nie Huaisang to let go of Lan Xichen’s hand, and there’s something unusually serious to his expression.

“You won’t punish him, right?” Nie Huaisang asks after some hesitation. “It’s not his fault. We tried to make it so he didn’t drink anything, but somebody spiked his tea and tricked him. It’d be unfair to punish him.”

“I’m surprised you care,” Lan Qiren states, perhaps more abruptly than he should, but… it’s been a long day, and seeing his nephew in this state is not helping.

“Of course I care,” Nie Huaisang replies after checking around. They are, in fact, alone, but he’s right to be prudent.

Lan Xichen startles at the answer, and smiles so brightly that Lan Qiren feels a little embarrassed on his behalf.

“You really do?” Lan Xichen asks, trying to get closer to his fiancé, only to be kept in place by his uncle. He doesn’t appear to notice. “I’m so glad! I care about you so much, Huaisang!”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes go wide at the enthusiastic declaration. Lan Qiren has dealt with that boy enough to tell that for once, his surprise seems genuine.

Who knows, there might still be hope for this to not be a complete disaster after all. They still have a few years to sort themselves out, if they’re not too stupid, if they can just stop behaving like such teenagers...

But that’s a consideration for later. Right now, Lan Qiren’s only problem is to get his drunk nephew to bed before he embarrasses himself any further. He thanks Nie Huaisang and starts pulling Lan Xichen away, grumbling against the boy’s lack of cooperation and coordination.

When he looks behind as they turn around a corner, he sees that Nie Huaisang still hasn’t moved one inch. It’s hard to say from so far, but his expression seems serious once more.

With a little hope, a little luck…

Only time will tell.

[playing-stories]

Why Playing Inside Made Me Hate Myself

There’s a level in Inside (Playdead, 2016) that sees the player-character, a nameless young boy, sprint from cover to cover as supersonic booms blast at timed intervals. I discovered pretty quickly that being caught out in the open during one of these blasts kills the boy in a horrifying explosion. His dismembered limbs go flying towards the camera before the game cuts and asks the player to try again and again. 

Even thinking about this level inspires a visceral horror in me. It took me so many attempts to finally get it right. Not only that, but this level was what made me understand what made Inside such a disturbing game - it made me loathe myself. But why self-loathing? Seeing a young helpless boy struggle through a brutal and hostile environment and seeing him die over and over is upsetting but why do I hate myself in particular? 

Perhaps in all these bad feelings I directed some of them towards myself. Do I hate myself for making me see these horrible things so many times? Maybe I feel betrayed in some way because I’ve exposed myself to something sickeningly sad and violent. 

No. There’s definitely more to it than that.

The level with the sonic booms is an excellent example of why Inside makes me hate myself for two reasons: 1) It’s deeply impersonal and 2) I’m really bad at it. Let’s address these both in turn.

It’s Deeply Impersonal 

The sonic boom level comes at mid-late point in the game. At this point, I have played enough of Inside to understand the situation at hand. I am playing as a young boy and my goal is to enter a mysterious facility. What I am running away from or towards is unknown. I have so far seen piles of dead pigs, security systems that kill trespassers, and limp men who can be controlled by whoever is wearing a special helmet. These men are being paraded in front of others; some stoic bourgeoisie types.

Notice that in my description of the game, I heavily focused on the environment of the game. The mindless slaves, the pigs, and the security systems were things that I, through the player-character, experienced but none of these were put there for me specifically. I didn’t cause any of this, and I will not be able to stop any of it. 

Then I come to the level with sonic booms. There is some sort of experimentation going on in this facility, that’s for sure. These booms are just a part of this. Everything is so big around me and I am so, so tiny. I am inconsequential here, dwarfed and alienated by my surroundings. The booms are procedural. They are not targeted. They do not care for young human boys. They are not malicious, they are completely apathetic. 

I must contend with the only human agency being present in this scene being my own. Now, in single-player videogames the player is always the only human agent, but in other games an illusion is built that NPCs have feelings, that can harbour ill will towards you, or that they can actively desire the player-character to save them. Taking all this away means that I am forced to reckon with my own complicity in killing this small scared child. Other levels that have the player chased by a pack of furious dogs or smothered to death by a mermaid at least had something that I could shift the blame onto when it killed me. In this level though, the sonic boom level, all I had was myself and the knowledge that I put the boy in this lethal situation

Tobi Smethurst, a games academic, also found this in Playdead’s other game, Limbo (2010), which has another young boy protagonist. Smethurst underlines how the levels in Limbo grew to also feature this alienation between player and environment more and more as the game progressed. Smethurst similarly points to how these games are so affective because they force the player into a place of complicity. Smethurst points out in their paper ‘Playing Dead in Videogames: Trauma in Limbo’ (2015) that in Limbo rag-doll physics mean that all of the young boy’s deaths are visually different. Becoming de-sensitised to the gruesome deaths therefore becomes more difficult. Failing one level may mean the boy falls in a way that bends his neck at an unnatural angle. Failing again may mean that this time he flops onto his front. The player must reckon with the reality that is their agency that caused a young boy’s death. I have not added a picture of a death in Limbo and I only advise looking one up with a hefty content warning.

While I found playing Limbo deeply upsetting, it did still give me a purpose to cling to. I knew from the very first level that I was looking for my lost sister. A little girl needs me is what I told myself. I clung to the fiction that I needed to rescue her. Without it then how was I supposed to face the fact the the person killing this little boy was me? Nothing was chasing me at the start of the game, nothing was out to get me. It was me, me who had walked the boy into a environment that was totally unsuitable and deadly. Inside takes the sister away. There is something at the end of the boys journey, but the player does not know this until late in the game. Whether or not the thing at the end is a good thing is also another question entirely. As I exposed the boy to killer explosions, attempted to make him jump between tall buildings, and led him deeper into the hostile facility I hated myself. I was doing this cruel horrible thing to him. All me.

I’m Really Bad At It

Which leads me on to my own lack of skill. I’m not a great gamer by any means. I love playing, but key tenets of game mechanics like pressing buttons or keeping to rhythms are things I struggle with as a . In Smethurst’s paper, an important point is made. It’s that even though Limbo makes it near impossible to complete every puzzle on the first try, it is not impossible. Both Limbo and Inside are trial and error games. In Limbo some puzzles purposely subvert behaviours that it just taught players moments ago. Nonetheless, even though it is very hard to achieve a no deaths run in either game the slither of possibility means that each death weighs on me even more.

I could have gotten the boy past the explosions this time. If it only weren’t for my lack of skill. If I were only more careful. Why am I so bad at this? I keep killing this kid. I’m going to see him die again and its my fault.

Inside not only highlights my agency in playing and failing at the game, but Inside has been actively made to be like the game environment itself. Brutal. Uncaring. Apathetic. Even though the game is hard, I cannot blame it for killing the boy without also blaming myself to a certain degree. And so I hate myself. The game has convinced me to hate myself while I’m playing. 

Killing Little Boys in Videogames

Before I end this piece I’d like to address one more videogame boy that I’ve killed. What Remains of Edith Finch (Giant Sparrow, 2017) is about the curse of the Finch family and it shows the player through a series of vignettes details of how each Finch family member died.

Calvin is just a child when he dies. He’s ambitious. He wants to swing his tree swing all the way around the branch. He swings, ignoring calls from his mother to come in for supper and goes higher and higher. The tree branch creaks and wind whistles by his ears and he’s almost made it. Then he loses control, and the player watches from Calvin’s perspective in horror as the boy flies over his garden to his untimely death.

Pretty sad cutscene, right?

Except it isn’t a cutscene. It very well could have been a cutscene. The game creators, however, elected to have the player make Calvin swing. The player is tasked with pressing two buttons in time to make Calvin slowly pick up momentum. The player knows where this is going and that this is dangerous. Yet if they want to continue playing they must kill Calvin. Again, the player is complicit in Calvin’s death with each button push leading Calvin closer to losing control of the swing.  

For a game that is thematically interested in facing trauma in order to process it, this is a perfect encapsulation of game mechanic echoing game story. By making the player a part of this scene, making their engagement essential, Edith Finch makes its players similarly face something that is uncomfortable and upsetting. Because they are active in Calvin’s death, the players are unable to stop looking at the screen, close their eyes, glaze over, or  reject what they are seeing in any other way. Sure, the controls are easy, but they still importantly require a level of effort from the player. The player can shift blame in this scenario. Unlike Inside or Limbo, survival is not an option for Calvin and so the player can easily argue that it isn’t their fault. This time, however, Calvin’s death being anyone’s fault is not the point. The engagement with the trauma of his death is what this scene is most interested in.

I would like to discuss how all of these characters being little boys might also be a contributing factor in why these games make me hate myself. I feel it would risk being too tangential so I’ll merely include a question: How do these little boys affect me simply by being little boys? For now, I will go and wallow a little more in the self-loathing that Inside has managed to make me feel.

Sources Cited:

Tobi Smethurst, ‘Playing Dead in Videogames: Trauma in Limbo’, The Journal of Popular Culture (2015).

[nad-zeta]

Match up (ㆁᴗㆁ✿)

Hi! Could I get an IkeSen match-up please?? 😭I’m a 5'2.5" female (INFJ), I’ve got hazel eyes, a couple of ear piercings & shoulder length dark brown hair (though I had it deep purple when I could actually get it done before COVID). Career-wise I’m a graphic designer (as I’ve always loved the different arts and creative fields, be it classical art, interior design, fashion, music, dance) and on the non-art side I’ve always loved the social sciences like history, philosophy and psychology/sociology! I’m always learning & evolving my idea of the human condition, human nature, and the psychology of the masses. I also especially love logic games & puzzles and crack them quickly. (Though Math is lifelong enemy #1 no cap sorry Issac). I tend to take a while to properly open up to people and feel quite shy at first, though I’ve amazingly had people tell me I come off as chill and confident (even somewhat intimidating) even if on the inside I didn’t quite feel that way 😅 (useful right?). I definitely tend to observe and analyze people/situations before going in, though even if I’m thrown into something I’m great at thinking on my feet and getting things back under control. Alternatively, when with friends I’m very animated, open, loud, and always throwing out the jokes to raise the energy and have a good time! (Catch me watching & spam sending meme compilations at 3AM even though I know people are already asleep) It just takes me a while to make that transition and connection on that deeper level before I open up (I’m talking months here 😭) I’m a Virgo/Leo cusp with a Sagittarius moon and a Taurus Rising, so I definitely have a strong presence of both earth/fire energy. In professional situations or with people I’m not familiar with the Earth energy comes out, and with close friends or when I’m in my element I love to indulge in the fire. I guess you can say I crave both order and freedom… which feels so divisive LOL. Though I always seem to be drawn to things that are polar opposites in many aspects of life, so that’s nothing new to me. I flip between “the world is great and life is good” and “the world is cruel and we suffer with no purpose” on a daily basis like it’s my job. Though I don’t think life having no purpose is be a bad thing, it means you’re free to execute your own will. I believe good an evil are both within humanity’s callings (and our world certainly reflects it), but personally I’d rather try to add to the good than despair about the bad. A quote that’s always resonated with me and sums that concept up is “What is more noble? To be born good, or to contradict your evil nature through sheer effort and power of will?” Thank you for your time!! I really enjoy your work and am excited to see what you come up with! Though honestly no hard feelings if you aren’t feeling up to it 😁😁((Admin Maru - this acc has 2 admins so I thought I should specify Lol))

Hi hi Dear!❤🌻 thank you so much for the request and sorry for taking soooooo long!❤🌻 Aww u make me blush😳, i’m so happy you have been enjoying these match ups and i hope you have a super good day! ❤😊🌼 Also, i’m always up to write a matchup as long as yall dont mind waiting for my slow writings skills! 😳🐇🦊hehe anyways here is ya matchup Admin Maru! @sengoku-revolution​

So I match you with……….. Mitsuhide

The first thing Mitsuhide noticed about you was your hazel green eyes observing him from the corner of the room. 

You had just been dragged back to the castle and named as the Oda princess. After Nobunaga made the declaration, you were guided to your seat in the council room. You looked at all the unfamiliar faces around you, but one man in particular, caught your eyes. He reminded you of a puzzle that you desperately wanted to solve, with this whispy mysterious air about him. You sat there and stared at him until his gaze lifted and he locked eyes with you. You panic for a second not expecting him to look up, so you shyly averted your eyes with a small smile. 

When the war council was over, it was Mitsunari who first approached you to strike up a conversation. You were rather shy, so you didn’t say much, and soon Masamune was beside Mitsunari asking you all sorts of random questions. You almost laughed at a comment that Masamune had made, “why you so quiet all of a sudden lass, cat got your tongue. What happened to that chilled confident lass from moments ago eyeing everyone in the council room.” That’s when Ieyasu piped up approaching you as well, “chilled and confident,” he scoffed, “more like scary and intimidating, no wonder Hideyoshi thinks she is a spy.” At the mention of his name, Hideyoshi too joined the group eyeing you suspiciously, he, did, not, trust, you. 

Finally, someone came to your aid and rescue, to save you from the overwhelming group of warlords. Mitsuhide reached into the crowd and grabbed your hand, pulling you as he walked away. He smiled his snek like smile at the confused look on his fellow warlords faces as he led you out of the room.

He showed you around the castle while observing you for any signs or proof that you were, in fact, an assassin or spy. But he found none; instead, he found a shy reserved little mouse, who was too shy to even meet his eyes. Finally after a long day of touring around the castle Mitsuhide showed you to your new room. He bid you good night, with a kiss on the hand and left.

The next day you started to help out all the castle staff, you didn’t want to just sit around and do nothing. So you opted to help out the maids, and deliver messages for Nobunaga. Hideyoshi still didn’t trust you, but that all changed one day. 

You were sitting with all the warlords in the banquet hall, people watching and observing the world around you, when something caught your attention. You saw a glint of something coming from the corner of the room. You narrowed your eyes and tried to focus on it to get a better look, when your heart suddenly stopped. It was an arrow that was aimed right for Nobunaga. Thank the lucky stars for your observational skills, as it gave you time to get up and jump right in front of its path right before it could hit Nobunaga. To be fair, it may not have been the best plan, but it was the best one you could come up with thinking on your feet. The arrow embedded itself in your arm and before you could even say anything, the warlords had the attacker surrounded. Hideyoshi was going to scold you for pushing his lord, but when he saw the blood dripping down and arrow embedded in your arm, he realized that you had yet again saved his lord’s life and that you were no enemy.

Surprisingly enough it was Mitsuhide who was at your side in seconds, picking you up and taking you back to your room to patch you up. None of you spoke as he gently treated your wound. Each of you were lost in your own world. He had noticed from watching you, that you were quite a naïve and trusting creature. You hadn’t yet been tainted by the cruel realities of this world. He felt this overwhelming need to want to protect you and get to know you better.After he patched you up, he went over to Nobunaga and asked to become your teacher to help you survive the turbulent times, cause it was clear from the incident that you had 0 self-preservation skills. 

The next day Mitsuhide made his way up to your room to give you, your first lesson, when he spotted you immersed in your art. He stood beside you and watched you design a kimono. It was absolutely stunning, he was awestruck at your talents. Once the sketch was done, you looked up and saw Mitsuhide sitting beside you, in your shock, you fell back. Perfect opportunity for Mitsuhide to take hold of your sketchbook and page through it. He was shook, you were truly a talented little thing. He then turned back to you and offered you a hand up to sit closer so he could start his lesson. And when you saw the books he had brought you unconsciously made a big sigh. Out of all the topics Mitsuhide had set out to teach you about, why was math one of them. He laughed, as you pouted at the thought of having to sit through a maths lecture. 

Despite your hate for math, thankfully, your school taught you well, and you breezed through the lesson. When Mitsuhide came to the stopping point for the day, he made the two of you some tea. He knew there was more to you than that shy exterior, and he was determined to get to know the little mouse within a little bit better. 

Everyday Mitsuhide came by your room, to teach you about various topics and subjects, ranging from economics to self-defence. It had been about a month of these lessons, and with each one, you started getting more and more comfortable around the Kitsune. He was a kind and patient teacher and would explain concepts over and over again until you understood them.

Mitsuhide got a full glimpse of your true personality when he taught you about the human condition, human nature, and the psychology of the masses. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw the glimmer of excitement in yours. That day you had actually been the one to teach sneki boy some stuff, as these were topics that you knew a fair amount on. The two of you sat for hours and hours chatting about social sciences, and you loved every moment of it. Mitsuhide enjoyed this new side of you, chatting freely about the things that interested you and honestly your smile was simply just too radiant to look at. 

In the weeks that followed your lesson with Mitsu ended, but his daily visits didn’t. He had successfully made that transition from acquaintance to a friend as the two of you connected on a deeper level. The more you revealed to him, the more he fell in love with you and vice versa. He loved how you were just so expressive and adored your loud, animated side. He could sit for hours and hours just watching and listening to you, tell stories. As you would tell them in the most curious of ways.

He loved it when you would deliver letters to him and then stay for tea. Often these tea dates lasted well into the night, as the two of you flung teasing comments and jokes at each other. Some night the conversation was more deep and serious, but other night the two of you would just be crackheads at 3am, joking and chatting about the most random of topics. Often you would catch yourself mid-laugh and just think about how much you loved this sneki boi. To the world, the two of you were mysterious, reserved, but together your true personalities came out, and you could be yourselves. 

Mitsuhide loved how you just raised the energy in any room you walked into. You managed to brighten even the dullest of situations with your chaotic, playful energy. And Mitsuhide low key loved that he was to only one that got to see it, as you were still a tiny bit shy with the other warlords.

Mitsuhide had long ago fallen in love with you, but the day he knew you were truly the one for him was when you were out in the market shopping. He had spotted you buying some fabric for your latest project, and of course, he couldn’t let an opportunity to tease you go by. As he approached, he overheard you debating with some soldiers. They were badmouthing Mitsuhide, calling him an evil man and saying that he was better off dead. You knew of Mitsuhide’s past, and you knew the mask he showed the world, but you had also seen the true Mitsuhide. The kind kitsune that always tried his hardest to keep his friends and family safe, even if that meant turning himself into a bad guy. You squared your shoulders and repeated a quote that had always resonated with you to the ignorant soldiers, “"Tell me then, what is more noble? To be born good, or to contradict your evil nature through sheer effort and power of will?” That statement left the men speechless. Mitsuhide then came up behind you, scaring the soldier away, they knew better than to trash talk Mitsuhide to his face. Mitsuhide then gently took your hand in his, and took you out for some tea, where he asked you about the quote as it too had resonated with him.

When Mitsuhide found out you loved logic games and puzzles, he knew he had found his soulmate. At this point, sneki boi was head over heels for you, and he was determined to make his feelings known. He decided to confess his feelings using a puzzle box and a logic game for you to play. It was based on a series of puzzles and riddles that you needed to solve. 

It started the moment you walked into Mitsuhide’s manor to drop off some letters. You were greeted by a snow-white fox and a letter attached to its collar. You solved puzzle after puzzle and riddle after riddle. Eventually, you were lead to a flower field just outside of town, thank goodness for Mitsuhide teaching you how to ride, otherwise that would have been a painfully long walk. You rode to the big sakura tree surrounded by flowers that you and Mitsuhide had ridden to on one of your first outrides. 

As you approach the tree, you saw a big gift wrapped up in delicate paper at the base of the tree. You slowly opened it, to reveal a puzzle box. It took you a few minutes, but you finally managed to solve the puzzle to reveal a small bell-flower on the inside and a note, “Look up.” 

You looked up to see another gift hidden between the pink petal of the tree. Again thankful for one of Mitsuhide’s various lessons, you carefully climbed up the tree and opened the present to reveal a kimono. Still, not just any kimono, it was the one that Mitsuhide had watched you sketch that very first day. Your eyes started tearing up at the kind gesture. You lifted the soft fabric up and down fell one final note, “I congratulate you for completing all the puzzles little one.” It was a long letter confessing all Mitsuhide’s undying love for you. It also stated that if you felt the same way, then he would be at the festivals gate waiting for you and if not than…. You didn’t read the last part as you had long ago fallen in love with the Kitsune. You raced back to town where the festival was being held and standing by the entrance of the festival was Mitsuhide, just as promised. You wasted no time running and tackling him into a big hug.

The more Mitsuhide discovered about you, the more he loved you. He loved that you loved the arts as much as he did. 

He loved to pull you into his arms and dance with you for hours and hours. He knew you loved to dance and music, so if you were feeling down, he would play you a song or dance for you. This always seemed to bring a smile to your face especially when he would pull you in and start dancing with you, and if you resisted he would tickle you until that bright, radiant smile that he loves so much is back on your face.

Mitsuhide definitely found it amusing that you would switch between “the world is great, and life is good” to “the world is cruel, and we suffer from no purpose.” Though whichever day you are having, he would be by your side to love and support you. He would make those better days even better, and on the days when you feel the world is cruel, he would wrap you up in his arms and protect you from the harsh world. 

He enjoyed debating with you on the topic of humanity and good and evil. He loved to hear your opinions and thoughts on all of it. He agreed with your resolution about adding more good to the world then despair. 

Often you and Mitsuhide can be found nestled in each other’s arms in deep conversation as he spends hours and hours playing with your hair. You have brought a sense of purpose to this boys life, and that is to execute his will to protect and love you for the rest of his days. 

When the two of you are together, the room is always filled with endless laughs and teasing comments. You better be ready to travel all around with Mitsuhide as now that he has caught you he will never let you go. Trapping you in his arms and showering you with endless amounts of love and adoration for the rest of your lives

Other potential matches……………….. Yoshimoto 

I hope you enjoyed this dear and I hope you have a super good day!🦊❤🌻

[the-walk-of-weary-souls]

Hello as of recently while watching game theory I've begun to create my own hypothesis in reguards to some of the details and blank spaces from their theories. In particular I began noticing stuff that seemed to fit together in their 'This changes everything' theory and the last part of the 'Not what we thought' theory so PLEASE GO WATCH THOSE FIRST IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY, this won't make sense otherwise.

First of all I believe Michael Afton is in fact the big brother's real name aswell as the name that the little brother (crying kid) is known as in the games. I say this because I think that the little brother has taken up the big brother's identity (I will from this point on refer to The older brother as Michael and crying kid as Mike as to avoid confusion). I came to this conclusion after Matpat theorized that the immortal and the restless where the immortal always starts the show off with 'The baby isn't mine' is refrencing the relationship Between William and Mike which made me start wondering if it was not referencing their relationship but Williams relationship with his other son Michael the elder brother instead in which case he would have a bad relationship with him but have a good relationship with the younger who he thinks is his son.

This would lead the elder to possibly getting Jealous enough to start bullying his younger brother only worsening the relationship Between William and himself and ultimately completely destroying it when he by accidentally killed Mike. At this point William promises to put Mike back together again and manages to do it but there's one small tiny problem, a dead kid can't suddenly come back to life again so he needs to get Mike a new identity. Luckily there is an easy solution to his problem in which he can get his youngest son back into the family and get rid of a son that he never thought was his own and probably hates for killing his youngest son. To put it simply I think he murdered his eldest son Michael Afton and gave his identity to his recently revived and amnesiac younger son.

This is why I personally think that Mike is using his brothers name instead of his own which we know he does not remember thanks to golden Freddy. Talking about golden Freddy and Mike, when Matpat theorized that there was in fact two souls possessing Golden Freddy; A female spirit named Cassidy and the vengeful spirit from UCN, a male possibly called Kelsey, a lot of pieces began fitting in place for me. For example remember how in UCN the voice lines kept referring to ' the one you should not have killed' golden Freddy as a he when we were sure that the spirit was a she up until the latest reveal where it makes sense again because it is referring to the male spirit in golden Freddy not Cassidy the female spirit.

I think that Mike had a close relationship with Kelsey both when he was still alive and after he dies and posses golden Freddy. I say this first of all because of how golden Freddy writes to Mike in the survival logbook as if trying desperately to jog his memory by referencing memories from his childhood (E.g. 'Was your favourite toy a purple telephone?' and 'Does he still talk to you?' And even at one point tries to be more direct by saying that 'the party was for you', you are the younger brother not Michael the elder brother)and directly asking him if he remembers anything including asking if he remembers his name. I also believe that phsycic friend fredbear was not the mind switching robots(which I actually think inspired by phsycic friend fredbear after William saw his sons interactions with the fredbear plush and realizing an actual soul inhabited it) Matpat theorized it was in a previous video but Kelsey extending his control outwards from golden Freddy onto the plush that his friend carries everywhere so that he can monitor his friend despite being stuck in the fredbear suit in the back room where we see a tuft of his hair coming out of the suit. It's also important to note that the only place that phsycic friend fredbear doesn't appear is inside the restaurant but is clearly still there because of his voice speaking to Mike which would make sense if he doesn't need the plush to see Mike there because it's where his body is stored anyway.

I think this is entirely possible as Kelsey is clearly able to appear outside of the golden Freddy suit in a completely different form to the actual golden Freddy as seen in 1:35 am's 'The New Kid' where he takes on the form of a kid and lures several children from nearby schools into old Freddy places where he then kills them with the golden Freddy suit so it is entirely possible he could be the plush Mike carried everywhere. His relationship with Mike could also explain his motivation for killing all of those kids by luring them to the golden Freddy suit, he was probably extremely angry when he lost his best friend despite his best efforts to keep him safe in the bite of 83 and thus takes it out on kids like the bullies in Fnaf 4. He does this by basically testing the kids to see if they'll try to put him into a springlock suit like the bullies did to Mike and if they do he kills them and moves on to the next victim.

To summarise it up Kelsey was probably Mike's best friend who at some point got killed by William and stuffed into a suit but due to pure determination his spirit stayed so that he could stay by his best friends side(unlike the other animatronics who stay because of Agony as confirmed in Game theories 'Your pain fuels us'which may explain his many extra abilities as they would be necessary to be by his friends side), this determination then turned to anger when he was unable to save his friends life or put his soul into something else like he was probably planning to do when William cut his dialogue off in the final cutscene of Fnaf 4 with 'I will put you back together' in a slightly different shade of yellow. So he starts killing kids like the bullies to try and get Vengance just like the other animatronics kill nightgaurds to try and get their Vengance. Eventually he realises that somehow miraculously Mike is alive and he figures out why which leads to him possessing the survival logbook to try and communicate with him and bring back his memories which he successfully does to at least a small extent. He probably sees this as a second chance for Mike at life but can only watch as instead Mike throws his life away in pursuit of his father and then completely gives up his life in the blaze that stops his father and frees the other spirits. Once again frustrated and beyond angry that he had to watch as his friend died again he blames his friends father William this time and so makes sure that he suffers for it by becoming his personal tormentor in hell instead of moving on like everyone else did.

This would explain several odd details such as why golden Freddy's phrase is it's me as he was probably trying to tell Mike that it's me Kelsey as well as why Golden Freddy will still attack you after entering your office instead of attacking as the spirit who is in control of (or has the most control of) Golden Freddy at that moment is Cassidy who wants to kill the nightgaurd and not Kelsey no wants to protect Mike. It also explains why Kelsey would go after kids instead of nightgaurds and why Golden Freddy is so interlinked with Mike.I also believe that like Matpat suggested Mike knew some of the other missing kids and by association so did Kelsey, but he may have had a more distant relationship with them only really hanging out with them because his best friend Mike or the crying kid as he is also known did.

Thanks for reading this, it is not really a theory as is lacks evidence but as a writer who has to clarify things I write in a logical way, this is how I filled in the gaps for Matpat's theories in a similar way to how I do when writing stories. I may come back to this later with a more fresh mind but it's really late now so goodnight.

[pogaytosalad]

Heres a wip of a sequel.

Dmviolence, by jade

Hello, if youre hearing this, it probably means im dead. Either that, or im alive and just got tired of keeping this hidden. You might remember my voice from a previous recording about a takeover in sector ⬽:➻, in which id helped prevent total annihilation of the sector. At the time i was unnamed, however now you may call me Kalton. After the takeover i resigned and moved to a job at a dmv. This planet was, for some reason, in one of the most tactically advantageous locations in the galaxy. And for some reason the higher ups dedicated the whole damn planet to dmvs. Dont ask why. Now, onto the story.

I woke up, and i put on my emerald green contact lenses. Just like any other day. I put on a basic white t-shirt and a leather bomber jacket along with a pair of jean shorts. If you cant tell by now, im gay.

I live in a small apartment. By small apartment i mean a bedroom, a bathroom and a kitchen all crammed into 2 rooms. I hopped out the bedroom window onto my motorcycle. It was a diamond white motorcycle with deep red stripes along the sides and the handlebars. My pride and joy. I put on my jet black helmet and took off towards my job at the, you guessed it, dmv.

Chapter 2

I pulled up in the parking lot and took off my helmet, my blue hair a total rats nest. The doors were push doors, yet i somehow ALWAYS pulled first. I entered the dmv and went to my station. A few hours passed by and no one had come in yet, which was unusual. So naturally i decided to sit down on the floor, put in my earbuds, and enjoyed some heavy metal. A few more hours passed by, and usually by now i wouldve been yelled at by my boss. This struck me as odd so i stood up. I really wish i hadnt stood up. The place had been completely destroyed. There were drop pods crashed in through the roof and they all had the ERGON logo on them. Ergon was a multi trillion dollar pencil manufacturing company with its own military. They had previously tried to take over sector ⬽:➻ when i had been working there. I was not looking forwards to what was about to happen.

Quickly, i ducked back onto the floor before anyone saw me. There were 4 riot soldiers holding this building. This was gonna be fun. The riot soldiers are your stereotypical riot gear and police baton soldiers. But these guys had laser batons and the riot gear gave them heightened strength and speed. They also had some, dare I say, shitty energy pistols. I crawled over to one of the soldiers who wasnt being watched and broke their neck. Carefully I took the baton and the pistol. Slowly crawled my way back to my station and checked the shot count in the pistol. I had 6 shots, just enough to take care of the remaining three soldiers. I stood up quickly and shot each soldier twice in the head. First shot to open the riot helmet, second shot to kill. I vaulted over the counter and grabbed the three pistols. These things were so stupid. You couldnt even remove the clips. Once you ran out of shots, the pistol was useless. Nonetheless, i didnt have any choice. I had a laser baton and 18 total shots in 3 pistols.

Upon leaving the building, my motorcycle was one of the few things to survive. It had alot of scratches and damage, but it still worked. The helmet was shattered however. I mounted the motorcycle and took off towards the next closest dmv. Maybe id find some better gear there.

Chapter 3

Pulling up next to the second dmv i immediately noticed 3 things. 1: there was blood everywhere. 2: there were 25 soldiers here. And 3: they all had energy weapons. The reason these things are relevant is because energy weapons dont cause bloodshed. This was the result of something else. Something new i hadnt dealt with yet.

I drove up and ran over 5 of the soldiers. This was probably an incredibly bad idea, seeing as i had 18 shots, enough for 9 kills, and there were 20 soldiers left. Every single soldier turned to me and i, being the absolute genius that i am, welded the front of one of the pistols shut with the laser baton, shot it off, and threw it into thei crowd of soldiers. It exploded, releasing a shockwave of energy and disabling the soldiers. I then used the baton to cut through the riot gear and kill the soldiers. I felt like a badass. That is until a mechanical looking wolf jumped at me and started trying to rip my face off.

The wolf was a frostwolf, except it had been placed into a mechanical frame and its teeth and claws had been replaced with lasers. I tried to bash it off of me with the baton but it just bit it in two. This gave me just enough time to grab an energy pistol and shoot the wolf. It kept trying to kill me amd i wasted a whole clip on it until suddenly, the dog started to levitate in the air and got thrown aside into a wall. I got up and was instantly frozen in place. Thats when.. she walked up.

Chapter 4

The she i am reffering to is ebony. A goth/punk wannabe with light blue tear shaped eyes and black hair with purple streaks. Shes a bitch whos mind got too powerful and now she can move things without touching them. Shes been chasing me for months. Not in a murderous way. Shes just obsessed with me. Ive tried to tell her im gay but she wont listen. And now im at her mercy.

She walked up to me and kissed me on the cheek. I hated it. She looked as if she was contemplating whether or not to free me when a pod came down from the sky and crushed her. Thank god. But i honestly wouldve rathered suffered at her hand than deal with what i had to deal with next...

Out of the pod came the warden. The goddamn warden from sector ⬽:➻. Last id seen him hed been in the same situation as ebony. Crushed to death under a pod. But this time, instead of being on my side, he was here to kill me. He was huge. Like seriously huge. He was at least 8 feet tall and shaped like gaston. Whos gaston? Nobody knows these days. But its basically a way to say "extremely buff and wide". Back to the story. The warden wasnt looking very good, considering the rotten skin, obviously quickly patched together face, and muscles hanging loose out of his skin. His rotting ruined body was held together by an exoskeleton of chromium-tungsten alloy. Nothing i had was gonna cut through that. I was gonna have to get creative here..

The warden had 2 weapons, both of them were his fists. Huge gauntlets that were each about the size of a cow. Definitely bigger than his previous set. They were a golden green metal i couldnt identify. But i didnt want to get hit with one to try and find out. I ran. I ran as fast i could run into the dmv and hid. I could hear the wardens footsteps. It was as if a small earthquake happened each time he took a step.

I peeked over the desk i was hiding behind and saw him punch through the 2 desks opposite to me. It took no effort and i couldve sworn i saw him smile. Obviously i didnt. Cause he didnt have a mouth anymore. But if he did, he definitely wouldve smiled. I took a shot to get his attention and ran off towards the wall. The warden was definitely faster than i expected.

Luckily i managed to dodge the blow by a centimeter. The metal smelled of decaying flesh and popcorn. The wardens blow punched a huge hole in the wall. I hope you see where im going with this.

I ran off to another wall and we repeated this same process a number of times until the building was barely still up. I ran out the doors and threw the baton at the last of the supports, cutting through it and causing the building to collapse in on the warden. He wasnt getting out of that. I decided to search the rubble to see if i could find anything worth taking. I found a new baton, a flame rifle and a few more energy pistols.

The flame rifle was a very interesting design. The sides were painted jet black with flame decals scattered about. You could feel the heat on the inside and it made the gun warm to the touch. Comfortable to hold. Other than that though, it looked like an old fashioned 8.59mm sniper rifle. It had 4 shots remaining, so id have to use it sparingly.

I grabbed some scrap materials out of the rubble to make a holster for it and put it on my back.

The energy pistols just dangled from a keychain. The baton was simply turned off and placed through a hole in the back pockets of my shorts. I ran to my motorcycle and drove off, i needed to find out more. I had questions, and i had a sneaking suspicion that i knew where to find the answers.

I drove off again, i was dirty and there was blood on me and my bike. I probably looked like a serial killer. But i knew that if anyone was still alive, itd be jayden. They were.. well. They were a vampire. They lived in a swampland area and wore sparkly rainbow shirts and a huge sunhat. The sunhat allowed them to go outside in the sun, and they only drank coconut water. They also had a crazy amount of weaponry and used to work at ergon, before being fired for stealing weaponry. By the way, if you havent noticed by now, im using they/them to refer to jayden. Jayden doesnt have a gender. Jayden.. is kind of my crush. It probably has something to do with the fact that theyre the only person on this planet who talks to me. Other than ebony.. but ebony is... not my type i guess. Anyways, back to jayden. Jayden was on the roof of their swamp shack drinking coconut water out of a wine glass. I yelled up at them and they fell off the roof onto my back. I guess i cushioned their fall. Jayden immediately said "What do you need dear" without waiting for me to stand up, and shattered the wine glass. I informed them of the situation and asked the questions i had. Things like "what are the ergon soldiers defences like on their ships" and "how did they reanimate the warden" they had answers.

Jayden told me about the new security measures that had been put in place since id last been on an ergon ship. There was now a code for each teleportation pod and the gaurds had doubled. As for the warden, it turns out jayden was actually the first test run in reanimation sciences, and couldnt answer me because they had been unconcious in a lab when the warden was reanimated. That explained the vampire undead thing. Jayden invited me into the shack where they pulled a nail out of the floorboards and it turned into a ramp to the basement. Down in the basement? Thats where jayden kept their weapons they stole. And boy oh boy were there some interesting ones.

One that immediately caught my attention was the big rocket launcher. It had 3 barrels and each was a different colour, indicating a different effect. One was red, one was yellow, and one was green. The red barrel fired a normal explosive rocket, the yellow barrel fired an electromagnetic pulse rocket, and the green barrel fired an acidic explosive. And the launcher shrunk down to the size of an energy pistol when a button was pressed. It gathered up dirt and dust and garbage around it from the back to quickly convert into ammo but the only downside is that it would be difficult to use more than once in an area.

Jayden picked out an old shotgun. At first i didnt understand why, but then they loaded the clip. The clip was a huge drum that loaded in the bottom of the barrel. The drum was see through and inside you could see sawblades lined up side by side. When they pumped the shotgun a blade got lifted into a slot between the 2 shotgun barrels and started glowing red. When the trigger was pulled, the blade spun at high speeds and fired out of the slot, spinning along the ground like a wheel. It could cut through anything a baton could cut through and seemed to almost follow its target. The gun itself looked like an DP-12, except behind the pump, a large clear drum full of sawblades was in place. The blade sat between the barrels in place of the iron sights and got heated up by an electrical circut.

I also took a laser sword instead of my baton, it was just like the one that [3825968] had, except this one was about an inch longer. The final weapon i took was an acid thrower. It was basically just a watergun with acid in it. Ive always been partial to acidic weapons. If youve heard my other story, youd know why..

Jayden also took a submachine gun that fired freezing rounds. The rounds were essentially glorified waterballoons with liquid nitrogen in them. Though the rounds were bullet sized, enough shots from it would certainly freeze you in place. The freeze gun was about the size of the average human head, and was painted navy blue with blue saphire stripes placed along it. We both left the shack, me with my sword and jayden with a wine glass. We were ready to kick ass and put a stop to this.

We left and immediately both got flung into some trees. Guess who it was. It was ebony. Her body had been found and reanimated. I was starting to see a pattern. And now we had to fight the telekinetic who could kill us with a wave of her hand.

She was levitating. Her eyes were glowing red and her hair was floating in the air. She had a smile of someone about to rip your arms off and beat you with them. I tried to take a shot at her but my hand got knocked aside by an invisible force. So i tried the next best thing. Seduction. Fake seduction. Hopefully the whole dying and coming back from the dead thing didnt make her stop being weirdly obsessed with me.

While i faked surrender and complimented ebony and attempted to seduce her, jayden took aim of their ice gun and shot a burst at ebonys right arm. The arm froze in place and shattered. Hopefully that would lower the strength of her telekinetic abilities. It did. But only by about half. Which meant jayden got thrown into the air as i tried to discreetly unholster my acid gun. It wasnt discreet enough and the gun was knocked from my hand.

The gun flew forwards and the impact of hitting the ground set it off for a second, just enough to spray an acidic burn through her arm. Incapacitating her. Jayden ended up sneaking up behind her and impaling her through the skull with the shattered end of their wine glass. Finally ebony was dead for good.

The acid gun was busted, so we had to leave it behind. We got onto my motorcycle and took off towards my apartment building. We would need food if we were going to be traveling. An apartment complex would probably be full of foods, and alot of dead people who wouldnt care if we took some stuff.

[orangeoctopi7]

Every Little Past Frustration

: Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 :

Bill watched through the eyes of a hundred eye-bats as the truck carrying his quarry barreled down the wooded back roads of Gravity Falls. The flock was closing in, despite Sixer's erratic blaster fire and manic driving. Of course, just as soon as it looked like Bill’s victory was in the bag, the Mystery Shack came into view on the horizon through the trees. The demonic triangle growled with rage and willed the flock to fly faster. He was not letting his bargaining chip get away! 

The cloud of eye bats descended on the truck. Maybe Bill’s luck was changing. The idiots had just left Four-Eyes lying in the truck bed unprotected. Bill didn’t know much about humans and the protection laws they used to try and keep themselves alive a little longer, but he was pretty sure that was a stupid thing to do even if you didn’t have otherworldly forces chasing after you.

Unfortunately, the eye-bats weren’t strong enough to turn someone to stone yet. They still hadn’t absorbed enough of the Nightmare Realm’s power. But they did have this nifty tractor beam ability, which came in handy since they didn’t have any hands or claws to speak of. A few of the eye-bats got in close enough to start lifting the scruffy hillbilly out of the back of the truck. He started thrashing and yowling in panic. 

“I TOLD YOU, YOU’RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE UNTIL I GET WHAT I WANT!” Bill crowed triumphantly. True, since he was back in the Nightmare Realm instead of possessing that time traveling loser, the only one who could hear him was Four-Eyes, but it wasn’t any fun if Bill couldn’t brag to someone.

“!Votmzrig ivskrx oory! Taht rebmemer ot tnaw t’nod I! Niaga ti ees ot tnaw t’nod I! Gnimoc si mlaer eramthgin eht…” McGucket howled.

Of course, every time Bill spoke directly to Fiddleford’s mind, the nerd had to go and be a drama queen about it! It was honestly the main reason the demon had continued tormenting the guy over the years. It wasn’t like Bill got anything out of it, he couldn’t possess the old coot or coerce him into helping the rift along. It was just hilarious to see how he reacted. Some mortals and the Nightmare Realm just didn’t mix.

Four-Eyes’s clamoring got the attention of the rescue team sitting in the truck cab. Shooting Star fired her grappling hook out the back window and snagged onto the old inventor’s overalls. Meanwhile, Sixer leaned almost half-way out the driver’s side window, blasting down the eye-bats that had been carrying off his friend; Question Mark struggled to keep them on the road while the driver was otherwise occupied.

Bill roared with volcanic rage as the truck veered around the corner, into the long driveway leading up to the Mystery Shack. They were almost to the barrier! He was not going to lose this bargaining chip, not after everything else that had gone wrong over the past few days.

The remaining eye-bats clustered around the open windows, trying to squeeze inside and block the view of the road. The truck careened through a few advertising signs, but stayed on course for the Mystery Shack. Maybe, if he blocked their view long enough, he could make them crash into the wall of the Shack and break the line of unicorn hair, disabling the shield spell.

But luck was not with Bill this week. The breaks squealed, and the truck skidded to a stop just inches away from the gift shop entrance. Sixer threw his door open and laid down some blaster fire to cover Shooting Star and Question Mark as they carried Four-Eyes inside. They were within the barrier.

“GGGGRAAAAAH! COME ON!” Bill conjured a glass just to throw it at the wall in frustration. “WHAT IS WITH THIS TIMELINE!? DECADES OF PLANNING, AND IT’S JUST ALL THROWN OUT THE WINDOW BECAUSE WHAT? PINETREE AND SHOOTING STAR ACTUALLY TALKED ABOUT THEIR FEELINGS!? EUGCH!” 

“DiD tHeY gEt AwAy, BoSs?” Hectorgon asked, noticing his boss’ temper tantrum.

“THE ONLY REASON THEY GOT AWAY IS BECAUSE I’M STUCK WORKING WITH SUB-PAR LACKEYS!!” Bill steamed. Hectorgon took the hint, scurrying away.

It really was a shame that good pawns were so hard to come by in Gravity Falls. Since the original plan of taking the rift from Shooting Star didn’t pan out, Bill had to start improvising. And hey, he was an ageless being of pure energy. He could do that. But the mortals available to him in Gravity Falls were just so lame!

Wendy, the Cool Girl, had seemed promising. She was smart and strong, and best of all, the Pines trusted her. Unfortunately she was a little too smart. Bill had known convincing her to smash the rift was a long shot, but she would have been a real asset, had things worked out. As it was, she was a nice distraction.

Toby Determined had definitely just been a distraction. The guy was about as competent as a leaky paper cup. But he’d actually gotten most of the Pines family out of the house, so that part of the plan, at least, had worked. They’d even left the Big Mackerel in charge of guarding the place! It seemed like the perfect opportunity to try out his new pawn, Preston Northwest. Bill had been sure Stan would take the bait, but no! Everyone in the Pines family had to do the opposite of what was expected this week. And Preston was such a priss, he’d rather just make vague threats and drive off than actually do what Bill asked him to and get his hands dirty! 

Unfortunately, possessing Preston wasn’t possible quite yet. The guy was too business savvy to make a deal on a handshake. It all had to be in writing with him.

The only other viable pawn in town was Lil’ Gideon, but he didn’t exactly have easy access to the Shack right now. Sure, Bill could break him out of prison, but it’d take a lot of effort, and it’d draw a lot of attention. Not just from the Pines, but from the Time Paradox Anomaly Avoidance Squad. There were a lot of perks to possessing a time traveler, but they came with the inconvenience of having to watch his step whenever he used them.

Bill sighed as he watched Sixer through one of his effigies still left in the Mystery Shack. Now there had been a good pawn! That rare balance of competence and gullibility, of intelligence and naivety, really did only come around once in a generation! So eager to please, so desperate to prove himself, so willing to just go along with things and not ask too many questions. Too bad Four-Eyes had to blunder his way into the portal on the test run. If Bill hadn’t had to tip his hand early, he might have brought the party to Earth thirty years ago. Ah well. Fighting Sixer all these years certainly kept him entertained.

For now, Bill was going to have to make due with his current pawns. Speaking of which, his latest puppet was trying to make a break for it. Bill popped out of the Nightmare Realm and into Blendin’s mindscape. The bumbling time traveler was about to pull out his time tape and jump into the future.

“AND WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?” 

“Y-y-you can’t do this to me!” Blendin stammered. “I-I’m a time officer! I h-have rights!”

“OH, SORRY, MY MISTAKE!” Bill said sarcastically. “WHY DON’T YOU HURRY BACK TO THOSE JERKS WHO CONSTANTLY MOCKED YOU FOR LOSING GLOBNAR TO TWO CHILDREN. I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN YOU’D BE EAGER TO ADD ‘GOT POSSESSED BY MY BOSS’S WORST ENEMY’ TO THE INSULT LIST. THAT IS, IF THEY DON’T LOCK YOU UP FOR AIDING IN THE END OF THE WORLD!”

“I-I’ve escaped the infinitentiary before!” the time traveler protested.

“YEAH, SURE, THEN IT’LL JUST BE LIFE ON THE RUN WHILE TIME-BABY PUTS OUT A DIMENSION-WIDE MANHUNT FOR YOU! FACE IT, BLENDO, YOUR BEST CHANCE OF SURVIVAL IS WITH ME!”

Blendin opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to come up with a good comeback, or rebuttal, or any reason to refuse Bill’s offer, but he apparently couldn’t think of one. Finally, he just hung his head in defeat and held out his hand. Bill smiled with his one eye and grabbed it, taking possession of the time traveler once again.

“THAT’S MORE LIKE IT! NOW, LET’S GO FIND A LADDER AND AN AK-47!”

* * *

The flock of eye-bats dispersed once Mabel and Soos got McGucket within the barrier. Ford breathed a sigh of relief. That had been too close. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if Bill had tried to bargain with Fiddleford’s life for the rift.

Thankfully, McGucket’s incoherent screams had stopped once he was safely inside. The old inventor looked exhausted, but relieved, like he’d just outrun a raging wild animal. Ford locked eyes with him, and for a moment, he could have sworn a hint of recognition flickered on Fiddleford’s face. But then, the fatigue caught up with his old friend, and he passed out in Soos’s arms. 

Dipper, who had been keeping watch from the window, rushed over to them. “Oh my gosh, are you guys ok?” He asked, taking in everyone’s battered appearance. 

“I think I might’ve cracked a rib.” Soos said nonchalantly, as though he was talking about a paper cut and not one of the most painful injuries he could still walk on. 

“Come bring Fiddleford into my room; I’ll examine you both.” Ford instructed.

Dipper followed them in as they laid Fiddleford on the couch. A quick glance over found no serious injuries that needed immediate attention, although the old inventor definitely looked like he needed a few good meals in him. Next, Ford had Soos pull his shirt off, so he could properly check his ribs.

“Luckily they’re not cracked, just badly bruised.” Ford assured the handyman after a few moments of careful prodding. He handed Soos a small packet of some medicinal cream. “This cellular-regeneration optimizing salv should allow you to heal within the hour. I assume you can apply it yourself.”

“You got it, dawg.” Soos took the packet with a salute and left for the bathroom.

“Er, alright…” Ford wasn’t quite sure what that response meant, but it sounded like an affirmative. 

“What happened?” Dipper asked once Ford finished his examinations and just sat down, watching his friend anxiously.

“Your sister was there for it all. You can ask her.” Ford replied simply. He was trying to let the boy down gently, but the kids really were better off without him.

“Oh, O-ok…” Dipper left reluctantly, casting a glance over his shoulder as he closed the door.

* * *

“And so we skidded into the parking lot next to the gift shop like something out of Nagoya Burnout!” Mabel concluded her dramatic retelling of their rescue mission.

“Aw man, I wish I was there!” Dipper complained. “Although, I did get to see Stan psych out Preston Northwest. That was pretty gratifying.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Mabel pulled out her cell phone. “Pacifica called me while we were at the dump, but it wasn’t a good time, so I hung up on her.”

“Huh. We got a call just before her dad showed up, but Grunkle Stan told me to just let it go to voicemail.”

Mabel checked her inbox to find several missed messages from Pacifica.

“Hey you asked if my parents were acting weird earlier?” The rich girl’s voice crackled from the voicemail. “Well, my dad just asked the chauffeur to take him to your shack. Last time he wouldn’t even ride there himself, he made ME go! ...Omg he’s packing a briefcase of money. I’m gonna have to call you back.”

The next message continued Pacifica’s panic, “When I asked him what he was doing he just said he was going to make a ‘business transaction’. Mabel seriously, call me back! I am freaking out!”

“I think he’s going to try and buy your house? Either that or maybe your uncle deals drugs? None of this makes sense to me. Just call me back already!”

“Mabel! Pick up! Why aren’t you answering!?”

“Uugh, fine! I’m calling your house!!”

“Oops.” Mabel grimaced. “I guess I should call her back.”

“Do you think her dad is actually working with Bill?” Dipper asked worriedly.

“I mean, I know he’s a shady rich guy and a bad parent, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of person to make a deal with a demon.” Mabel reasoned. “But maybe Bill came to him disguised as Blendin, like he did to Toby, and offered him technology from the future or something?”

“Maybe.” Dipper agreed. “I can’t think of any other reason the Northwests would try to buy out this place. I know Stan’s made enough to support himself and run the portal, but the Shack can’t be that successful compared to all the Northwest’s businesses. I’m just worried about Pacifica. Her parents are already the worst. If Bill is controlling them, who knows what they’d do to her?”

Mabel pulled up Pacifica’s contact and started calling. Her crazy rich rival picked up on the second ring. “Now you pick up!? What happened!? My dad said Stan pulled a gun on him!”

“Sorry!” Mabel apologized, “I was on a rescue mission, I had to be stealthy!”

“And Stan only pulled a gun on him after he made it clear calling the cops wasn’t an option!” Dipper defended.

“Why didn’t you just text me?” Mabel asked.

“And leave a written record that I was trying to warn you guys?” Pacifica scoffed. “You’ve got to be kidding!”

“...Your parents go through your texts?” Dipper asked warily.

“Yeah, don’t yours?” Pacifica asked, clearly not seeing anything wrong with the practice. 

“Nevermind all that!” Mabel interrupted, “We wanted to make sure you’re alright!”

"What? I'm fine. You two are the ones living with the guy who pulled a gun on my dad!"

"After he threatened us!" Dipper repeated.

“Not in any way that would hold up in court, I’m sure.” Pacifica said, and Dipper swore he could hear her rolling her eyes.

“Anyway, we called because we’re worried about you!” Mabel broke up the argument.

“Why would you be worried?” Pacifica asked. “Guys, I’m just grounded. It’s not like my parents have me locked up in a dungeon or something.”

“We have reason to believe your parents are fraternizing with a dream demon.” Dipper explained. “Or at least your dad is.”

“Um… you’re joking, right?” the rich girl huffed a weak laugh.

“Don’t freak her out, Dipper!” Mabel elbowed her brother.

“But it’s true!”

“Hey Pacifica, sorry, Dipper’s being crazy paranoid.” Mabel forced a laugh, “But seriously though, you should keep an eye on your dad. And like, if he gets yellow eyes or something, you should just leave.”

“What!? What the heck is going on, you two? Is this another ghost thing?”

“Well I mean, it does seem like Bill’s main way of getting things done in our world is possessing people, so that’s kind of like a ghost…” Dipper answered.

“Who the heck is Bill!?”

“He’s a dream demon who wants to end the world.” Dipper explained bluntly. “But he needs something in our house to do it.”

“Are-are you serious?” Pacifica asked incredulously. “You’d better be serious right now, because if you’re messing with me I’ll come over there and buy your uncle’s filthy tourist trap myself!”

“I’m dead serious.” Dipper assured her. “What do you know about that creepy tapestry in the alcove just to the left of the grand staircase in the main dining hall? The one with the triangle eye on it?”

“Ugh, that ugly thing?” Pacifica groaned. “Mom can’t talk dad into throwing it out because it’s a family heirloom or whatever. Once I inherit this mansion, it’s going in the trash where it belongs!”

“Haha, Bill belongs in the trash!” Mabel giggled.

“So what, is Bill the guy who made the tapestry or something?”

“He’s the one on the tapestry.” Dipper corrected. “He’s the triangle eye.”

“I told you, if you’re messing with me--”

“I’m not messing with you! I know it sounds crazy, but this is a matter of life and death!” Dipper said earnestly.

“Ok, ok!” Pacifica backed off, surprised by Dipper’s sincerity. “I honestly don’t know anything else about it, though. Just that apparently it was a gift to Nathaniel Northwest when he founded the town.”

“Which we all know he didn’t do.” Dipper reasoned. “So where did it actually come from?”

“How the heck should I know?” Pacifica retorted.

“Could you maybe ask your dad about it?” Mabel proposed.

“I guess. He might find it a little suspicious if I suddenly seem interested in it though.”

“Could you at least take a picture of it and text it to us?” Dipper asked. “I didn’t think to take a good look at it while I was there, and I only remember a few vague details.”

“Ugh, ok, but you’d better help me find a good way to explain why I sent it to you once my parents find out.”

* * *

Dinnertime rolled around, and Ford still hadn’t left his room since the rescue party returned earlier that afternoon. Dipper was beginning to worry. Despite his insistence that he could live off of his nutrition pills for another three years, Ford always made a point to join the family for dinner. Even though the old researcher wouldn't admit it, Dipper was pretty sure it was because he got lonely spending all his time in the basement. The fact that Ford was absent as they dug into a plate of Mac'n'Cheese left Dipper wondering if something was wrong.

"Hey, uh, Mabel? Did Great Uncle Ford seem upset when you guys found McGucket?"

"He did seem pretty sad, but I don't think he really had time to be upset. We were busy running from Bill."

"Of course he's upset. He's finally seen first-hand how his old college buddy has become the self-proclaimed local kook." Stan said without looking up from his dinner. "Just give him some space, kid, he'll be fine."

Dipper wasn't in the habit of listening to Stan, so as soon as he finished eating he dropped his plate in the sink and snuck down the hall to Ford's room. Thankfully, it wasn't locked.

Ford looked up at him with such a dead-eyed stare when he stepped in that the boy suddenly wished he had listened to Stan.

"H-hey… um… we, uh, missed you at dinner… heh…"

"I'm otherwise occupied." Ford said quietly, not looking the boy in the eye. "Don't worry about me, I still have plenty of nutrition pills."

"Oh, uh, yeah…." Dipper scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "... That's not what I'm really worried about though."

Ford tensed. "Has there been a new development with Bill?"

"Uh… I mean, Preston Northwest did come by here and try to buy the Shack, but Stan scared him off, for now…. Oh! And Wendy wanted to know if you would help put up a barrier around her family’s house if she got some more unicorn hair.”

The old researcher nodded. “It will take time. It would be safer for her to stay here until I’m able to assemble another barrier spell.” 

“Oh, ok, I’ll let her know.” Dipper shuffled his feet. “So, uh, how’s McGucket?”

“He needs rest.” Ford watched his friend’s sleeping form carefully, still refusing to meet Dipper’s gaze.

“Um, are you ok?”

“Don’t worry about me.” Ford reiterated shortly. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to your sister about now?”

“...Mabel told you we weren’t going to stay, didn’t she?” Dipper fretted. “...Are you mad at me?”

Ford finally turned to face him. “Of course not, my boy! If anything, you should be mad at me.”

“What, why?” Dipper asked in confusion.

“I came between you and your family. I got you involved in my problems. I put you in danger. I shouldn’t-- you shouldn’t-- you’d be safer if you kept your distance from me.”

“But you are my family!” Dipper insisted. “And I was involved with Bill before I even knew who you were!”

“Because you found my journal. I still started you on that path.”

“Well, technically, I guess.” Dipper admitted grudgingly. “But that wasn’t your fault!”

Ford scoffed and looked away again, obviously not convinced.

“If you and Mabel already came to your own decision to return home, then you must have realized on some level that I am a toxic influence. I don’t understand the thoughts and feelings of other people. I’ve hurt every person I’ve ever been close to.” The old researcher watched the slow rise and fall of Fiddleford’s far-too-thin chest. “You deserve better than that. You deserve better than me.”

Dipper was dumbstruck for a moment. He never would have guessed that his Great Uncle Ford, the Author of the Journals, would feel this way. And it felt so wrong, because this wasn’t the way he viewed his uncle at all. Didn’t he know he was Dipper’s hero? Deserve better? Ford being Dipper’s uncle, and actually liking him and spending time with him, was better than the boy had dared to hope for.

“That’s not why we decided to go home!” Dipper insisted. How had Mabel put it? She made it sound so simple. “It’s not like we don’t want to stay with you. Now just isn’t the right time.”

“Not now… and not ever.” Ford said glumly. “It’s… it’s for the best.”

“No it’s not!” the boy blurted. “I know a lot of the people you care about end up hurt, and I know you have a hard time understanding why other people do things sometimes, but that doesn’t mean you don’t understand other people’s thoughts and feelings at all! That doesn’t mean all you do is hurt other people! I know because you were the first person this summer who understood me! 

“I love Mabel, but we don’t see the world in the same way. That’s a good thing most of the time, but sometimes when I try to talk to her about the paranormal, she just dismisses it as me being paranoid, or ‘dumb nerd stuff’. And don’t even get me started on how hard it is to talk to Stan about that stuff. 

“When I found your Journal in the woods, it wasn’t just an exciting mystery that fell into my lap. It was like finding validation that all the weird things I saw actually mattered. I think that Journal helped me get out of trouble just as often as it got me into trouble. And as the summer went on and I read more and saw more, it was like I was getting to know you, even though I still didn't have any idea who you were. I knew I felt a connection with whoever wrote it, so I started trying to figure out who it was. 

“Yeah, I got in a little too deep and got in trouble at a few points, but that just made it all the more amazing when I finally found out that the Author was you, and you were my family, and I wasn’t just imagining that we had something in common! And somehow, impossibly, you’re even cooler than I ever imagined because you’re more than just paranormal mysteries and cryptograms that take me ages to decode! You like to play the same games I do, and you actually take my theories and stuff seriously instead of just laughing it off or telling me I’m paranoid! And… and…” Dipper slowly became painfully aware of how long he’d been talking without any response from Ford, who was still turned away from him. “And you’re really important to me, ok? I know we’ve known each other for less than a month, but I just can’t accept a future where we can’t hang out anymore, ok?”

Ford didn’t answer for a long time. He just stared down at McGucket’s sleeping form. But if Dipper watched closely, he could see his uncle just barely keeping his breathing under control.

“You’re a very intelligent boy, Dipper.” The old researcher finally croaked. “Why can’t you see the evidence lying right before you?”

Dipper looked down on McGucket's prone form, then to his uncle, who was just barely containing his grief.

“You may have hurt McGucket, but you can’t completely blame yourself for the state he’s in now. And you obviously still feel bad about what happened, and you’re doing everything you can to help now. If you ask me, that’s not toxic. 

“I know you’re scared of hurting the people you love again, but just cutting yourself off from everyone isn’t gonna help, even if it seems like the easiest option. I think you just need some people who love you back and are willing to help you learn to be better.”

Dipper decided to take a risk and stepped forward, tentatively hugging Ford around the waist. His uncle tensed for a second at the unexpected contact, but his rigidity crumbled after a moment. The old researcher dropped to his knees and hugged his nephew tightly. 

“Thank you, my boy. I didn't realize how badly I needed to hear that.”