#and even if it isn't QUITE a judgment cut end it does look like an early iteration so I used that

[polarisbibliotheque]

Nemesis (Vergil x Reader) - Chapter 5

Nemesis

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: The Abyss opening is a rare occurrence. In his youth, Vergil wanted to harness its power, but never thought he would meet his greatest adversary along the way. Years later, the Abyss is once again open and that might call for some rather unlikely alliances.

Chapter 1 (Prologue) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 (you are here!)

Age restriction: 18+ - there’s a lot of blood, violence, cursing and all those things people want to forbid younger audiences of seeing. Also, cosmic horror is a thing here. Procceed with caution.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Self-hatred, self-doubt, a lot of blood and difficult emotions going on this chapter. The reader and Vergil face their own selves, seeing them as fragile, hurt, bleeding, frail beings. There's a lot of "I'm not worthy of love" from Vergil too. It all happens after the fight with the Hell Puppeteer, so reader discretion thoroughly advised.

Seriously. If you struggle with themes like these and struggle with imagining yourself hurt/crying/vulnerable and it is too much, I do recommend not reading after the fight. The part where it begins will be in red, and underneath it, things get complicated. Take care of yourself and your mental health! ^^

Special Thanks: To @furyeclipse, the wonderful being who allowed me to use her character, Ovid, and is always helping me write their part properly and screaming over DMC on DMs ^^ You can check out Fury's writing (which I highly recommend) on this link: Fury's Ao3 Author's Notes: Oh, so much going on. The bantering with Vergil. The fighting alongside him. The mind horror of the Abyss. *sighs* jokes aside, I'm loving writing a reader who doesn't make it easy for Vergil. He deserves it for being a brat during blue coat era ;D And I regret nothing regarding the fistfight

Also, last chapter was quite small. Well, this one is quite huge. Buckle up! I hope you guys like it!

Chapter 5

“Perhaps the Abyss is some sort of prison.”

You only realized you muttered your thoughts out loud when Vergil’s eyes diverted from the street ahead to your frame by his side. You looked back at him – you researched on your own and spent most of the time on your company, unused to having someone else alongside you. Speaking to yourself out loud, even if in a murmur, was an acquired trait.

“What do you think?” You tried to conceal that fact pretending you intended to start a conversation. The blue devil didn’t need to know you were a pathetic little being who talked to yourself out of loneliness.

If only you knew back then Vergil did the same, you wouldn’t have felt that awkward about your little slip.

“You tell me, human. After all, you are the one with the source of knowledge on the Abyss.”

You couldn’t hide from your reaction how unsatisfied you were with his answer. Vergil knew he had won that round of bantering.

“Tsc. Every source I’ve found on human arcane libraries haven’t got much information. You probably know it as well.” You rolled your eyes, unsheathing your sword. Something stirred inside your chest and that could only mean the extinct demons were close. “I’m wondering why there’s a Puppeteer inside the Abyss if it was given as extinct an eternity ago.”

“It can be a prison…” Vergil considered back, brooding for a while. He could hear as if it was happening right at that moment: the voice of his mother, calling him from inside the Abyss. If it was indeed a prison, then why would Eva be in there? Would it be the work of Mundus? To make his mother suffer for the act of defiance from his father? Was… Sparda in there too…?

After all those years, Vergil never knew what happened to Sparda. He saw Eva brutally murdered by those demons – and yes, there was a great possibility they had taken her to eternal suffering. Dante was supposed to be dead if she hadn’t gone through all that to save at least him… Only him.

Vergil should’ve died that day: mercilessly sliced by his own sword, his bloody body thrown in a forgotten cemetery while all his memories of a heaven burned to ashes, with only Dante as a survivor. If Vergil’s demon hadn’t awakened that fateful day, he should’ve been dead. It was his father’s blood that saved him, his father’s heritage – something he was infinitely proud of; after all, it was the only thing he had left.

But… What about Sparda? Where was he? Did Mundus’ demons kill him? Did he perish in a fight while trying to keep them away from his family? Did he abandon them…?

Vergil’s greatest strength was also his greatest weakness. He had to stop thinking sometimes – and only his endless pursue of power gave him a little peace of mind.

“It can also be another level of Hell. A deeper one.” He finally emerged from the endless dark water of the ocean in his mind. If he didn’t, Vergil could easily drown.

“Hmmm. How does it open sometimes? It should be like Hell, with many seals and ways to open it.”

“If it is, it was probably sealed by Sparda.” Vergil side-eyed you, hoping to analyze your reaction to his father’s name. Many humans feared him, but many adored him, seeing Sparda as a savior of humanity. Even those who feared were thankful for the devil who protected mankind so many years ago.

“I don’t think so… If Sparda really existed, he locked the gates of Hell. The Abyss keeps opening, so there must be something different about it.” You sighed, not giving much to Vergil other than your words. “Even if it is another level of Hell, it might not be part of what Sparda sealed away. If the legends are true, of course.”

“If…?” The word rolled slowly from Vergil’s tongue, as he kept gazing you. It was the first time he met a skeptic regarding his father’s origin.

“It might be just a bunch of hocus pocus, you know?” You shrugged. “A story to keep children scared and away from dangerous forests, like Hänsel and Gretl. As far as I know, that’s how great legends are born.”

“So you don’t believe in the Legend of Sparda?”

“I never found a piece of evidence that it actually happened.” You noted with an academic air to your speech. Vergil had to hold down the urge to wheeze from your words – after all, you were talking to the greatest evidence that Sparda was real. “I read a lot on books and yes, I do believe Sparda existed. I just… I don’t know if he was as heroic as the tales say he is.”

Vergil pondered your words for a minute before thinking about answering them. Indeed, Sparda was harsh and demanding, but he also knew when to show them love and care. From what he remembered, his father enjoyed the little human things – and how soft it was to touch them all in warm embraces, how magic it was to play fight with him and Dante on the fields, how gently he would caress Eva’s face… How much adoration he carried in his eyes.

When Vergil was a child, Sparda was never the great, heroic demon, savior of humanity – Sparda was his father. With flaws and strengths, he was just… Vergil’s dad.

Not as heroic as the tales said he was – just ordinarily human.

Vergil would have found an answer after mulling over your words if you weren’t both attacked by puppets – humanoid demons, looking like parts of various creatures who were reassembled together, walking in wobbly legs, falling apart at the joints, but attacking viciously with teeth and claws.

You avoided the attack by separating and allowing the demon to stumble between you. Soon, it had no arms left: you and Vergil attacked at the same time, curiously coordinated, slashing the demon apart. As you cut it in half, Vergil took off its head.

“Guess we’re close…” You pointed at the path ahead of you, making Vergil realize how many more puppets stood in your way.

“Try to keep up.”

His voice was arrogant as always, as Vergil plunged into battle. You scoffed, running right after him.

If you weren’t sworn enemies, you would be the perfect match in a fight – no demon would be powerful enough to bring down the both of you in battle, fair or not. Vergil was learning and applying, for quite a while now, the power of concentration over lashing out – but he was indeed aware of all his surroundings, including you.

As the dance of death among the puppets commenced, his silver eyes sometimes would linger a second or two longer than it should in your direction. Your movements, as he observed before, were swift and elegant, but there was something of aggressive. A viciousness picked up after fighting demons for a while – something you didn’t have before. As the days passed, you became increasingly stronger and a match to him.

And quite a match you were indeed – the speed with which your silver sword moved, painted only gleams of bright light between the dark blood of demons spilling on the pavement. Right by your side, the ghost of the Yamato could barely be seen as the blue devil used all his skill to slay as many demons as you – or even more.

Your back found Vergil’s back as you both stood still at the end of the street, finally settling your swords and observing the carnage of demons scattered across the ground. On the other side, the Hell Puppeteer had its soulless black holes meant to be eyes turned to you, the mouth eternally opened in distress, screeching with the loss of its demon army.

“A horde down…”

“One more to go.” Vergil completed your thoughts, slowly turning alongside you towards the Hell Puppeteer.

The ancient demon was at least three times taller than you, but neither you nor the blue devil’s steps faltered while walking towards it. The red mouth gleamed a haunting aura in the cold air of the night, but you and Vergil held your heads tall.

He was the only one who carried as much pride as you did in your steps.

What brought you both to a halt, though, was the sound of dragging. Thousands of things dragging, right behind you. Turning quickly, you and Vergil found all the parts of the demons you had previously slain to be dragging towards each other, grotesquely reassembling in wobbly creatures and screeching towards you once again.

Of course. They were puppets. Killing them wouldn’t be that easy.

“This will take forever at this pace.” Vergil groaned between his teeth, keeping his eyes on the approaching demons.

You sighed: even if you didn’t want to admit, he was right. If those demons really could reassemble and weren’t even alive to begin with, constantly tearing them apart would do nothing. How, then, would you kill something already dead?

As you looked up, quickly searching for the stars to illuminate your thoughts, the red gleam of the Hell Puppeteer – slowly approaching you, with its guttural screech that could haunt the bravest of human hearts – made you notice something you wouldn’t have seen in other circumstances: faint lines in the sky, as if made of the finest and purest glass, falling from behind you towards the little puppets.

With a quick glance, you chuckled within yourself: it was indeed a puppeteer – for those glass strings tied firmly across the dark claws of the Hell Puppeteer.

“Look at the sky.” You pointed out, making Vergil’s silver eyes finally see what you were seeing. “I’m guessing if we cut the strings, they will all fall apart for good. But…” You sighed once again, already attacking one of the creatures who were close enough to hurt you. “There are too many of them. I’m not that quick; the Puppeteer will catch us before we’re done.”

Vergil looked back in a matter of seconds, arriving to the same conclusion as you. There was only one thing he could do, then.

“Stay behind me and don’t move.”

You furrowed your brows, ready to argue with that conceited demon right in front of you. Who did he think he was to talk to you like that? Hadn’t you proved already you were strong enough to beat him in a fair – or even unfair – fight? You had managed to draw his blood. He shouldn’t be that full of himself and patronizing towards you.

Before you could even start to argue, Vergil sheathed the Yamato and, with a snapping sound while his head quickly looked up, the man gave room to a creature with the strike of a blue lightning. You had no words, but there he was: with skin made of black and blue scales, the sheath of the sword as part of his arm, claws instead of nails and horns crowning his head.

You took a few steps back as he took his hand back to the Yamato, flexing his legs in an attacking position you had noticed already he had a preference for. Your feet stopped moving, though, when the air around you seemed to warp. Time itself became denser, almost as if you were under a gelatinous body of water. It was increasingly difficult to breath until he disappeared in the blink of an eye.

With eyes wide, you maintained your feet glued to your place as you only managed to see dark blue figures of warped air and the sharp glimmer of the Yamato cutting everything on its path. The floor underneath your feet trembled slightly and, in a matter of seconds, the blue devil was kneeling in front of you, in a typical position to finish his attack.

As he got up and that devilish form enveloped in a ring of blue light, the man with white hair and silver eyes returned to his human form, finally sheathing the Yamato once again.

And, when he did, all the strings exploded in a million of pieces, cut in a fraction of seconds, falling from the sky like a crystal rain.

All the demons fell to the floor at once – dismembered. Unmoving. Defeated.

You had to admit to yourself, that was a lot more impressive than you had expected. You wanted to scream at how much you hated him: now, you had even more to surpass regarding that stuck up blue demon.

During all your life, you never wanted so bad to stab someone.

“A simple human like you wouldn’t be able to do this not even with years of training.” Vergil fixed the collar of his coat while walking the path towards the shocked and infuriated Hell Puppeteer.

“I don’t need to rely on demonic tricks to be my enemies’ demise.” Your comeback was as quick as his sharp words. “Or I shouldn’t have been able to draw your blood earlier, demon.”

“You did it out of sheer luck, human.” Even though he wanted to throw a murderous glare towards you, Vergil’s silver eyes kept fixed on the Hell Puppeteer. The creature never had its whole army decimated so quickly – it had never been so weak before; and that made it absolutely fuming. “Hadn’t this thing crawled out from its confinement, you would’ve known what real demonic power looks like.”

“Interestingly enough, I am the one with apparent access to the Abyss, not the real demonic power here.”

This time, Vergil couldn’t refrain from stopping right where he was and stare at you – his cold eyes mimicking glaciers, while you held them with pride on your own stare. The Hell Puppeteer didn’t seem to be as entertaining – and important – as winning a stare contest against that stuck up creature.

That was a thought shared between you both.

In the shadows, though, a set of bright and intelligent eyes watched you and Vergil with delight. Ovid reveled in the fact that child of Sparda had found his match – be it in combat or regarding the mind. You were, indeed, a very interesting human to follow; and something about your fearless and proud attitude towards Vergil was infinitely entertaining. After all, not many were brave enough to banter with the blood of Sparda, let alone make him bleed.

A quiet chuckle rolled in the darkness. In Ovid’s ancient eyes, humans were absolutely fascinating and ever-changing creatures that were always in motion, never stopping – so much more exciting than demons.

The Hell Puppeteer didn’t find you fascinating, though. Vergil would chastise you in order to at least try to win that little battle of wits of yours, but the demon wouldn’t just watch in shock with the loss of its puppets. Its claws flew towards you, and that made you both get back into battle.

Anyone who watched you wouldn’t say it was a fight – at least, that’s what Ovid observed in the shadows. It was fun watching you argue, but there was something of classic in the way you both fought alongside each other. It was a dance: a deadly waltz you and Vergil knew the steps quite well. Sometimes he guided, other times you took the lead. But you crossed each other and coordinated attacks in such a graceful and natural manner, it looked like a ballet of death – your hearts in synch, choreographing the steps for your enemy’s demise.

“The hands!” Vergil growled after an attack that made the Puppeteer slightly flinch. “Break the seal, break the power!”

You turned your eyes to the demon’s claws and immediately understood what Vergil meant: it had red glowing bracelets across its wrists, embellished with scriptures of an old language you couldn’t read. But that rule was always clear: whenever a seal was present in the body or around a demon, you had to break it in order to kill or subdue it. That was actually one of the first things ever mentioned on the Codex Daemonica.

Apparently, he did knew it by heart, just like you.

“I’ll get the one on the left! You get the one on the right!”

Vergil would have argued so he wouldn’t really be following a human’s orders, but that was already what he had thought to himself – you just mentioned it faster than him. Of course, you were fighting for your lives, and he wouldn’t be petty to the point of stopping everything to argue about that – but his mind would make sure to keep it noted for future encounters.

During the fight, though, Vergil did notice your body was starting to get tired – you were human, after all. And, even if he was focusing on killing the demon and going back to arguing with you, Vergil did have a sense of honor that you were doing that together. He wouldn’t let you notice, of course, but his next attack was designed so that the Hell Puppeteer would need to lean its left hand on the floor – making things a lot easier for you.

In the distance, Ovid was amused by the spectacle of a human and a demon working together. The blue son of Sparda wasn’t known for kindness, let alone being a team-player – but there he was, in his own way, helping the little human fighting alongside him. Vergil did have a demonic part in his soul, yet, somehow, he was helping this human fight off a creature. Was it for power? For pride? Or something else? It didn’t matter in the end: as tempting as it was to also have the son of Sparda as a study subject, his fixation on his demonic power would be an outlier in their grand experiment results. What a shame, really – it seemed as if, maybe, later in his life, Vergil would come to understand the mixed heritage he was blessed with.

For the moment being, though, Ovid would only note those changes and continue just observing.

The Yamato easily sliced through the seal on the right hand of the Puppeteer, raised in the air as it shrieked and tried to protect its own power – to no avail. Your silver sword found the seal on the left hand, needing a couple of hits to break the seal. Yes, you were tired, and using all your strength to have that fight meet its end. But, as Vergil knew too well, you wouldn’t give up.

The Hell Puppeteer let out a scream you almost had to cover your ears – even Vergil furrowed his brows and felt the sting inside his eardrums. The demon recoiled in a manner that was almost pitiful, but you both knew better and, with resolute steps, side by side, you and Vergil approached the creature now tossed on the ground.

With a swift last blow, you buried your silver sword in its chest while Vergil used the Yamato on its gleaming red mouth. With one last shriek, the Puppeteer burned to ashes until there was nothing left but you two – you with a ragged breath, leaning on your sword, and Vergil somberly quiet.

After a few seconds catching your breaths, though, your eyes met once again.

And you knew.

Vergil tried to run. The Abyss was still open and his chance was finally at his grasp – he could almost feel it touching his fingertips.

But you had made a promise: nothing was to come out and nothing was to go in.

With that in mind, you followed him – holding Vergil by his coat, you pulled him back, trying to hit him with your sword. His answer was swift, and, in the blink of an eye, your silver sword clashed with the Yamato.

The sheer strength of it made your swords fly away from your hands, dancing in the air towards opposite sides.

What a nuisance. That’s what you were in Vergil’s eyes. An incredible, annoying, petty human nuisance. Never in his life he had lost the grip of the Yamato, but there he was. His anger towards you increased as the seconds went by.

And it only became worse when Vergil found himself tossed on the floor, you on top of him, punching his face with your tired – but strong – human hands. His eyes lit with anger; his teeth increasingly sharper. Holding both of your wrists, Vergil tossed you away from him, ready to end you.

Even after everything you did together, he still underestimated your power and your human resilience. You got up faster than he expected – but Vergil still punched you. With wobbly steps, you couldn’t refrain from losing your balance – and he took the opportunity to hit you one more time.

His nails now were as sharp as claws. Turning back to him after protecting the right side of your cheek, Vergil finally saw: he had managed to draw blood. The cut on your cheek bled just like his – and you were finally even for that day.

“I won’t let you go any further.” You managed to mumble while wiping the blood from your face, raising your head to keep a little bit of your pride. You knew you had cut him before, but the fact that he did the same… It made your blood boil.

“You can barely stand…” Vergil answered in the same tone, beginning to feel the tiredness in his bones. He was demonic indeed, and his blood caried a heritage stronger than many others… But Vergil could only take so much. He also needed to rest after a long day – and he was beginning to feel that. “Don’t make me hurt you even more.”

“Don’t make me fatally wound you, stuck up demon.”

Both of you growled, reading your attack positions. Your swords were far away, but it was quite clear you could – and would – get on a fistfight if necessary. With those thoughts, you ran towards Vergil, ready to kick him far away from the Abyss – but, as expected, he too knew martial arts and managed to deflect and try a counterattack.

And Vergil’s demonic side couldn’t hold back a growl of utter annoyance when you deflected expertly and managed to scrape his face with a well-placed punch. In all honesty, he wanted to tie you up on a light post and enter the Abyss at peace so there would be no possibility whatsoever that you would follow him and continue being so annoying.

As the fight went on, that idea became increasingly tempting.

You managed to place a strong kick right on Vergil’s abdomen, making him stumble away from you for a few seconds. Neither of you realized how close you were to the edge of the Abyss; your eyes trained on each other, careful and attentive of whatever move you would make.

Until you heard a voice.

It was a cry, really. Silent. Lonely. Muffled. Buried deep inside the darkness.

Vergil frowned as he saw how much your expression changed – instead of anger and focus, he found a pair of vulnerable wide eyes, almost as if you had seen a ghost.

“Vergil…?”

And your expression was suddenly mirrored on his own face. It was his mother. It was Eva again. Calling him – far away, a ghost of a memory, but still… There. Just like it happened years prior, when he heard her in the Abyss.

You took your eyes away from each other – and you both fell into darkness.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped carefully, not knowing where you were getting yourself into. You didn’t understand what was happening – had you entered the Abyss? Was it reaching out to you? Who was crying…?

The floor was wet. You furrowed your eyebrows. Why were you barefoot? You were wearing your boots before… Weren’t you…?

A dim light could barely light the scene ahead. A frail shape – weak, bony, with their skin looking like it lacked blood underneath – kneeled on the floor, face covered by bloody hands, their back filled with several wounds: some fresh, some still healing.

Shards of a crystal heart were tossed on the floor, covered in blood: they tried desperately to put it back into place, but it kept breaking, over, and over, and over again… The wounds kept opening, the blood kept flowing. They couldn’t get up: they tried, but every time there was progress, they would break once more. Their strength was running out.

Your feet froze and you couldn’t move. That frail creature, that broken heart, that blood… It was you. And you didn’t want to see that. You didn’t want to acknowledge that beaten down creature – the one you would always find whenever you looked in the mirror.

You had broken all your mirrors before. You didn’t want to be forced to look at that.

But other people walked around. People you knew. People who left. They would look at that broken human and ignore – forget it existed.

In the end, you were always on your own.

You had to get out. You didn’t know where you were, but you had to get out.

Vergil didn’t have to walk too far to find himself in the dark – not able to see even his own hands in front of him. Everything he heard was his mother’s voice quietly crying, calling for him. Begging for his help.

“Is that you, my son…? Can you help me…?”

“Yes. I am coming for you.” He muttered under his breath, not knowing if she could hear him or not.

“But… Why did you leave me…?”

As soon as he heard that voice, Vergil’s whole body froze – his eyes as wide as the silver moon. He knew who said that. He heard that before.

Slowly turning around, Vergil felt the scorching heat gradually hitting his face. The amber inferno of a starless night, coming back again to haunt him.

“Why… Why did you leave me, mom…?” And Vergil found himself. Tossed on the grass of that godforsaken graveyard, blood on his mouth, his hands, his whole body; his life slowly slipping away from his soul. “Don’t… Don’t you love me too…? Am I… A bad son…?”

Fucking hell. He was a child. He was only a child. Vergil stared at himself trying to claw away from the demons who cackled at his dying state, dragging his almost dead body as far as he could. His eyes were red, raining with tears, his nails broken and stained with dirt. His hands… They were so tiny compared to how big they were right now. The Yamato was almost as big as him – and now, it could look like a toy in Vergil’s hands.

He was so small. So… Vulnerable.

“Am I not… Worth saving… Mom…?”

Vergil couldn’t see that anymore. He couldn’t help. He couldn’t grab his own hand and slay those demons – that was not how it happened. He died that day, and his demonic heritage saved him. The demon had awakened, and he managed to save himself.

No one came. No one appeared. He wasn’t loved, he wasn’t protected, and he would have to save himself in other to survive. That was it.

“Please… Don’t leave.”

Vergil couldn’t make out who said those words: if it was his younger self or his mother. But one thing was sure – he had to get out. He couldn’t stay. Or he wouldn’t survive.

The floor trembled once more under both of your feet. You lost your balance and fell to the floor while Vergil kneeled in order to remain anchored somehow.

Light and color gradually came back to your worlds – and, as you found yourselves lit up by the moon once again, you realized you were still close to the edge of the Abyss; still beside each other, even if far apart.

When you met his eyes, for the first time, you found a hint of vulnerability. Those silver moons stared at you with the same distress you looked at him. None of you knew what to do – after all, you were in the middle of a fight. Should you attack? Should you run? Should you… Search for solace in each other…?

Before any of those thoughts could be answered, the floor trembled once again, making nearby buildings collapse. You rolled even farther apart, and your path to each other was blocked by heavy pieces of concrete.

The Abyss was closed once again.

**

To be continued...

[hibiscuswrites]

If you have the time, could I please request a HC/would include of Ray accidentally dialing the wrong number and it ends up being his future SO? Like maybe he’s in jail and they start talking by accident and it’s a super slow process but they begin to trust each other and end up meeting/falling in love? 🌺

This idea fucked. me. up.

He was just trying to call his boy

Blow off some steam

Shoot the shit before his time ran out and he had to go back to his cell

He was scratching at the paint on the phone while he waited, hearing the line click and expecting to hear the deep voice of his friend

But instead its a much softer voice

One he's never heard before

"Hello?"

And his brows knit because who the fuck is this?

He doesn't have to wonder long though

"Uh, hi. Ray was it? Yeah uh, you have the wrong number. Sorry. I didn't want to hang up before the call connected so you wouldn't waste your time calling again and again. Not sure who you're trying to reach but...this isn't them."

Your laugh is awkward yet...endearing

Soft and light

Such a contrast to what he hears in here

Not to mention, he hasn't had a woman laugh in his ear in quite some time

Even if it's through this shitty phone

He chuckles himself and leans against the wall

"Yeah, I guess not. Tony could never sound so beautiful."

You laugh again and Ray smiles on instinct at the sound

Shocked that you haven't hung up yet

You knew he was an inmate

The collect call always tells you ahead of time

So that meant you stayed on the call and accepted anyway

Just like you said, so he wouldn't waste his call time

And the thought is so selfless that he doesn't wanna hang up

He expects you to though

So he lies

"Well, they don't really let us call another number once we dial. We only get the five minutes with one number. If they don't pick up or we get cut off, tough shit. So maybe we could talk for the next...four minutes and 20 seconds?"

It's a shot in the dark and he's 100% expecting the line to click

"Oh, well...ok. Not sure what you want to talk about, stranger."

You laugh again and so does he

"What's your name?"

The silence stretches for a bit and Ray winces, feeling like he fucked it up

"Nevermind, it's all good. I'll call you Sunshine, since that's how your voice sounds."

He knows it is ridiculous

Spitting game to a girl he doesn't know and will never speak to again, but it's enough to pass the time

Your laugh is sweet like honey when it passes through the receiver and even though he has no idea what you look like, he can almost see you roll your eyes

"Smooth talker, I see."

"I try."

The rest of the call goes by the same, him flirting gently and you laughing until the automated voice signals that the call is going to end in 30 seconds

And against his better judgment, he calls again the next day

And you pick up again

The days pass like that, his light flirting and you entertaining him

He asks what you ate today and you tell him in elaborate detail to where he can almost taste it

Asks what the weather is like and your words are so vivid, it paints the picture for him to where he feels like he can see through your eyes

He longs and yearns for your voice and talks

Soon enough, you've been talking every day, him getting your name and stopping with the flirting once he realizes that he's actually into you

And the days turn into weeks

Weeks into months

You send him a picture of yourself, praying that doing so isn't a mistake

And he sends you one back of himself

You write letters to each other

Video calls when he can

He has another inmate paint a portrait of you and sends it as a gift

And before either of you realize, his release date is coming up

He extends the offer to see if you'd be willing to meet him, and even though he wants to, he wouldn't be hurt or offended if you refused

Proud and understanding of your apprehension

So he offers to meet in a crowded public place if you're willing and you are

Both of you sporting each other under the bright sun in the local farmers market

Your eyes brighter than he ever could've imagined

Your smile enough to make his heart feel like a puddle of warm butter

He stands before you and stuffs his hands into his pockets, itching to touch you but not daring to

"Hi, Sunshine."

And the twinkle in your eye as you gaze at him is enough to convince him that punching the number in wrong that day was the best mistake he's ever made

"Hi, Stranger."

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[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 24

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

“He asked me to move in with him.” I couldn't keep the word vomit from leaving my mouth as I settled into a little booth across from Tori with a coffee between my hands.

Her eyebrows seemed to raise about three inches and she didn't say anything at first.

“It's crazy, I know.” I shook my head.

“How long have you been with him?”

“A month.” I made a face.

“Does he, like, ejaculate gold coins or something?” Tori asked, laughing as she spoke.

I laughed with her and shook my head, looking down. “I don't know. I've never been like this. He's just got this way about him.”

“What's his house like?”

A small smile crept onto my face and she cut in before I could answer.

“He's rich, isn't he?”

“He lives in this, like, mini castle.”

“A castle?”

“Well, that's what it looks like. It's really cool.”

“Okay, so my suspicions are correct.”

I swallowed hard, eager to hear her theories. “What suspicions?”

“He ejacs gold coins.”

I laughed again, actually pleased she hadn't said something serious. I wasn't in the mood for sinister scenarios that would only heighten my internal anxiety over the situation.

“I don't even care about the house or whatever. I just.. I'm falling way too fast for this guy.” My eyes met here across the table. “Do you think I'm crazy?”

Tori gave a half smile and a shrug. “A little.” She smiled fully and sipped her coffee. “It is a little fast.”

“It's very fast.”

“Okay, it's very fast,” she agreed. “But, it's your call. What's your gut telling you? I'd ask what your heart’s telling you but I'm pretty sure I already know that. And the heart can be misleading.” Tori motioned to me with her drink as she emphasized the last part.

“Yeah.” I sighed and reached into a small paper bag for the muffin I’d ordered with my coffee.

“Well, how about this?” Tori went on when I broke off a piece of the muffin top. “If things work out with Mr. “Joel Gold Coins”,” she used her fingers to do the air quotes and I snickered, “Then I better be the maid of honor. And if it ends up not being what you thought, then there's always a room for you at 355 Ellie Drive.”

I looked toward my friend and let out another exhale through my nose. She was so understanding and not judgmental. I had disappeared off the face of the earth for a month since meeting Dr. Miller and she never questioned a thing.

“I'm sorry if I've been a bad friend,” I started but she reached for my hand and wagged a finger.

“You haven't been a bad friend,” she disagreed. “We’re at pivotal points in our lives. And I guess the lucky part is that we've kind of both found the same thing in the same time frame.” Tori shrugged, “It happens. We’re.. growing up.”

I smiled, “Adulting?”

“Ugh, you know I hate that word.”

I laughed and then sighed again with a more serious expression. “Thank you, Tori.”

“You're welcome.”

“I mean it. Thank you.” I sipped my coffee again. “Now, I'm done making this all about me. Tell me about Derek.”

My friend bit her bottom lip and spilled all the recent tea about her beau. I knew Derek. I liked him. The fact that he would be there with her full time took away some of the guilt I was experiencing. Tori appeared excited and happy and light as air. Getting a chance to sit and talk was rejuvenating. As much as I enjoyed the intensity of my time with Dr. Miller, I appreciated the lighthearted feeling I had being in Tori’s company.

“Once a week,” my friend pointed at me as we finally left the little coffee shop, “And that's nonnegotiable.”

“Once a week. And I'll be back soon to get my clothes and stuff.” I nodded and we exchanged a hug. “I'm going to head into LL Bean,” I said motioning to the store a few doors down on the little street.

“I have to go to work or I'd gladly spend a good hundred bucks in there with you.”

“Okay, be safe. I miss you.”

Tori blew a kiss. “See you soon.”

I waved goodbye and headed into the store, mostly in search of a good pair of winter boots.

If I happen to walk out with a sweater or two, so be it, I thought internally with a smile. Or maybe a hat for our ski wedding weekend.

An older man greeted me with a friendly, “Hello,” from behind a cash register off to the left. I smiled and waved before making the trek up a flight of stairs to the second floor where I knew the women's shoe section was.

A rack of on-sale sweaters and shirts conveniently greeted me near the top of the stairs and I gave it a lengthy browse. A knee length blue and white sweater dress caught my eye and I draped it over my arm before moving on toward the shoes.

“(Y/N)?” A female voiced my name quietly and I turned my attention away from the wall of boots in front of me.

When I glanced over my left shoulder I froze. Christine, Dr. Miller’s ex-wife, had just exited the dressing room. She was dressed more casually than our first meeting, sporting jeans and a sweater with a winter hat.

“Hi,” I said awkwardly.

“How are you doing?” She asked, as if we were friends or acquaintances that hadn't seen one another for awhile.

“I'm fine.” I forced a smile. “How are you?”

“Good.” Christine smiled back and bluntly asked, “Are you still seeing Joel?”

I gave a little nod, hoping that would be the end of that. Of course it wasn't.

“Look, woman to woman,” she said, beginning to pace in my direction. “I don't want to see you get hurt the way I did. Just.. be careful. Joel has this charisma that can really be..” She took a few seconds as she searched for the correct word, “Blinding.”

“I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean by that.” I didn't want to have this conversation. People broke up all the time and could easily list off the reasons why their former partner was terrible. It didn't mean those two people couldn't move on and find someone more compatible for them. Everyone has flaws.

“I fell for him,” Christine nodded and stared at me, “Fast. Hard.” She shook her head and maintained eye contact, “He has secrets, (Y/N).”

“Don't we all?” I tried to sound casual and glanced down at the sweater on my arm.

“Not these kind of secrets.”

“Well, what are these kind of secrets?” I asked.

Christine sighed, looking around as she did before finding my eyes again. “That's something I'll take to my grave.. but also something I couldn't live with.”

I wasn't typically one to speak up, but I couldn't help myself now. “So, woman to woman you came here to warn me, but you can't tell me about what? You just want me to be careful because of Joel's secrets but you won't tell me what those secrets are?” I shook my head, “If you were actually looking out for me, you'd tell me.” I wandered away from the boots section back toward the staircase.

“It's the least I can do,” Christine called out.

I took the stairs back to the bottom floor. All the life that Tori had breathed into me, Christine had sucked out. I was so taken aback that I almost walked out with the sweater without paying for it. Hell, I hadn't even tried it on.

I stopped myself before closing in on the door and made a hard right toward the register.

“Find everything you were looking for?” The old man asked with a friendly grin.

I wanted to match his cheeriness but I just couldn't. Still, I managed a smile. “Yes, thank you.” He scanned the tag, I swiped my card and then headed back out onto the street.

I was going to tell Dr. Miller about bumping into Christine. I wasn't about to accuse him of anything but I needed to at least ask what she was referring to. Of course he had secrets - or at least some unknowns he promised to tell in due time. As much as I needed to know, I wasn't going to bombard him simply because his ex-wife bombarded me.

She hated me, Dr. Miller had claimed. I was sure at least part of her approaching me had something to do with sabotaging him.

I shook my head and hurried across the street to an ATM. Having a little cash on me at all times was something my parents had always advised me to do, and it was a habit I'd carried into adulthood.

I looked around the immediate area and then back to the doors of LL Bean to see if Christine had come out. I wanted to get out of the area as soon as possible and cozy up by a warm fire, as Dr. Miller had promised.

As I slipped my card into the machine, I envisioned it for a moment, trying to push away the negative thoughts that had been bestowed upon me. It worked - sort of.

I punched in my four digit code and selected to remove sixty dollars. Again, I looked over my shoulder as the ATM worked its magic. When the screen instructed me to remove my card, I did just that and then tucked it away back into my purse.

The money dispensed and upon collecting it, I looked at the screen again. If it had been a cartoon I swear my eyes would have popped right out of my head.

This has to be a mistake. I looked at the balance. It was all wrong.

“What the hell?”

The receipt shot out next as the screen switched to a simple, THANK YOU, in bold letters. I ripped the receipt from its place and studied the numbers. The balance on the thin piece of white paper matched that of the balance on the screen.

This has to be a mistake.

As I stood in disbelief, staring at the fifty-seven thousand dollars that was now said to be in my account, my eyes glanced up and I saw Christine staring at me from across the street. I felt like she knew exactly what I was staring at on that money slip.

When she shook her head, I crumpled the paper and forced it into my coat pocket before rushing to my car and driving away from that quaint, little street in the center of town.

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandijo17 @jiminstinypinky @shotgun-shelby @itscatrodriguez-thepearl @macaroni676 @acciowolfstar1

[nieithryn]

YOUR MUSE’S MANY LAYERS

respond to the prompts with your muse in mind.

LAYER    001    :    THE    OUTSIDE.  

* NAME:   Calista Serenno-Nu

* EYE COLOUR: Azure Blue

* HAIR STYLE  /  COLOUR:  Long locks of fiery red that fall down to her hips, usually braided but can also be worn loose or styled for occasions.

* HEIGHT:   5′0″

* CLOTHING STYLE: As Senator before and during the war, Calista wears a mix of formal dresses and gowns, as well as what we would call pant-suits in our world. Before the end of the war and her father's death, these were mainly in shades of blue and green, and were usually considered 'sexy but modest.' She tended to prefer simpler cuts compared to some of her fellows, and rarely wore anything approaching a 'ballgown' style of skirt. After the war, she spent 5 years wearing black to mourn her father, occasionally accented with gold, blue, or purple, but always primarily black. Even after this period, she frequently kept the black theme, though her previous wardrobe colors did make a comeback.

* BEST PHYSICAL FEATURE: High cheekbones that frame her wolf/ice blue eyes perfectly, and give her face a graceful look.

LAYER    002    :    THE    INSIDE.

* FEARS: While Calista is not a woman who often lets herself give into fear, what hovers most at the back of her mind is a constant fear of failure. Failure to measure up to her father's expectations. Failure to do right by her people. Failure to adhere to what she knows is right.

* GUILTY PLEASURE: Horseback riding. Calista is a skilled equestrian, and when she is stressed and in desperate need of relief from the concerns of the galaxy, saddling up her stallion and going for a ride along the Serennian coastline is absolutely her primary guilty pleasure. Occasionally, when she is on Coruscant and that's not an option, chocolate.

* BIGGEST PET PEEVE: Grandstanding. Especially from those she knows are doing it just for the attention, with no actual conviction. This is especially prevalent during the War from certain Senators, and it drives her absolutely nuts not to be able to call them on it. Bail got so many messages.

* AMBITIONS FOR THE FUTURE: Peace in the galaxy. Retirement from the Senate. Maybe, possibly, to ascend to the throne on Serenno, though she isn't sure she truly wants that, but she knows it is likely to happen.

LAYER    003    :    THOUGHTS.

* FIRST THOUGHTS WAKING UP: If I could stay in with a book today, that would be lovely. Calista is frequently tired in the mornings from late nights, and her first thoughts upon waking are most often about how she would like to not be waking. After that it's what she will wear to the Senate that day.

* WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT MOST: Varies, but mostly she considers whatever bill is currently before the Senate and needs her support. Her family - adopted and otherwise - are also constant presences in her thoughts, as well as the clones, after the outbreak of the war.

* WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT BEFORE BED: Usually, either what transpired that day, or whatever she was reading before bed. Sometimes diplomatic matters, if it is a treatise, sometimes the plotline of a novel.

* WHAT THEY THINK THEIR BEST QUALITY IS: Her open-mindedness. Calista will speak with anyone, and hear them out, reserving her own judgment until she is sure she understands them first. She will listen and consider her view against that of whatever is being presented her, and change it if she must. It is what makes her such a good diplomat.

LAYER    004    :    WHAT’S    BETTER?

* SINGLE OR GROUP DATES: Single Dates, she prefers private, quality time with people.

* TO BE LOVED OR RESPECTED: Loved preferably, but she is quite content with respected.

* BEAUTY OR BRAINS:  Brains.

* DOGS OR CATS: Calista loves all animals...but she does somewhat prefer cats.

LAYER    005    :    DO    THEY…

* LIE: Being a politician...yeah, but more by omission than outright falsehood. She prefers to be honest where possible.

* BELIEVE IN THEMSELVES: For the most part, yeah.

* BELIEVE IN LOVE: Absolutely. One need only look at her parents to believe in it.

* WANT SOMEONE: Romantically? No, not especially. But she would like a platonic soulmate. But she's quite happy, she has everyone she could ever want or need.

LAYER    006    :    HAVE    THEY    EVER…

* BEEN ON STAGE: Yes, though it has been many years.

* CHANGED WHO THEY WERE TO FIT IN: No, that is one thing she can confidently say she never did. She has reforged herself many times, but never for the sake of others. She may wear a mask in some company, but mostly, she is who she is, and damn you if you can't handle that.

LAYER    007    :    FAVORITES.

* FAVOURITE COLOUR:  Silver

* FAVOURITE ANIMAL: Felinx or dire-cat

* FAVOURITE BOOK: Assuming that our world’s literature exists in the Star Wars universe, Calista would definitely be someone who loved HG Wells, especially Island of Doctor Moreau.

* FAVOURITE GAME: In a formalized, recognized 'game' sense, chess and firepath for sure.

LAYER    008    :    AGE.

* DAY THEIR NEXT BIRTHDAY WILL BE:  December 27th

* HOW OLD WILL THEY BE: Timeline dependent, but default TCW setting she is between 44 and 46.

LAYER    009  :   FINISH    THE    SENTENCE.

* I LOVE: My work and my people.

* I FEEL: Stretched thin and tired.

* I HIDE: My Force Sensitivity, for my safety and that of others.

* I MISS: The man my father used to be; I hope he can come back to himself.

* I WISH: The galaxy were as simple as some people seem convinced it is.

TAGGED BY @valorums

TAGGING @strcngered (pick a muse you wanna gush about dear)

[jlf23tumble]

hi jen~ whats your thoughts on the recent Louis interview with Jojo?

It was good? I actually found the 98.9 interview wildly more entertaining (not least because Louis himself was struggling, this guy was not the best interviewer), but in both cases, we learned some things, and that's always fun! I would argue you learn WAY more in the 98.9 one, Jojo is mostly repetitive fluff/filler, but I feel like UAs were really selective with both options. Anyway, since you asked specifically about Jojo, here's a recap, I haven't done one of THOSE in a minute!

Unrelated takes from me: 1) Jojo's hair, wow!! 2) How is Louis hotter every time he's on this show? 3) All the prework Louis did for this rollout is truly fascinating, even the "live" pieces

And now some momentsTM that I liked from the interview:

Louis spent the first half of COVID doing nothing but putting his feet up (lol, I would reckon he actually HAD it at least once, too, but whatever), then in the second half, doing this record

He's doing "gewd, a LI'TLE bit tired"

Damn, he's into that dude from Stone (note to self: would I call Stone punk???), and I love how he says he's pretty judgmental when it comes to music, so he's figuring it's on him to bridge the taste gap with his fans and introduce a lot of stuff he thinks they're gonna love (me: yeah, because they ONLY listen to 4 guys, literally ever, that lens has room for growth, my friend)

FITF is a distinct different from Walls in that it was a) designed to stand up at a live show ("Every song," says Jojo, "YES, every single song," says Louis, "Bullshit," says me, "those late-era Streets weepy cryalongs work for one song, tops!") and b) it's "hopeful, there's no emotional weight" (says the dude who wrote Chicago)

Louis wrote 40 songs for this album, recorded 25, then picked 16, 17, and he won't go back and unvault them, so don't ask :(

There isn't a track with the title in it, he tried at least twice (two sets of writers), but it's quite 'ard to capture it down in words, cut to the feeling! (paraphrasing)

He HATES being in the room for a listening party or to debut some tracks: "You feel like a bit of dick, just sat there, nodding your head along to your own tunes." (his voice during this bit, uncapturable in text) He wants people to have their own opinion, and, "If I'm sat there, they won't say it's shit if it's dead eggy, no offense to people who do that," with a cheeky smile

Louis's drummer is also his musical director???

He goes into the pit at the end during KMM because it's the same energy he gets when he first walks out on stage, only x10, which sure is some feedback, if you're looking for it!

In answer to whether he has an alias for hotels, he does, but he can't remember the ones from 10 years ago and is pretty sure it's the same one today anyway (okay, stoner!), but regardless, it's obviously a fake name, which is annoying when hotel staff want ID during the many times he's locked himself out (always the hotel keys! free idea for Oli, maybe just create a fake ID for this pseud, McLovin style)

Only Louis can say he never wants to come across as arrogant or wanky, and because of that, it stopped him from looking at how important he is ("dare I say it!") or his songs are for people in some moments ("it's us as a collective") and not have it sound like garbage

His take on the video for Bigger Than Me was that because it's a big-sounding song, you need a nice-looking place, and you have to have a bit of narrative beyond just walking around, so he's building a fire: "maybe it represents GROWTH...maybe it's just a fire" (his voiceeee in all of this bit, too, sarcastically hilarious)

The best and worst moments in past performances are captured elsewhere (long pause for the classic Freddie in the crowd story, puking after too many vodka red bull top-ups on stage story, respectively), but the drinking on stage got me because I think it has been pretty well established that they DID drink on stage, that it wasn't rare, so maybe this was the first time??? Anyway, it WAS just after Zayn left, so could be lots more going on...I keep thinking of those water bottle reaction shots, plus Liam Payne's own casual descriptions

He moved away from anything too dance-y on Walls because he had already done it with Steve and Bebe but acknowledges he was close-minded and overthinking it on that album, hence he's embracing the dahnce here

Louder, for people in the back, he's different than he was 10 years ago, he feels he's constantly evolving as a person and as an artist, it's a moving puzzle

Jojo's obsessed with the paranormal, and Louis's a cynic (hello, new X Files one-shot), so Louis's happy to stay in whatever spooky room someone wants to assign him to and report back (bonus points if you know the special word that'll get the ghosts to talk to him, he's down for it)

I wanna know more about the time Louis had sleep paralysis and thought someone was sitting on his chest, but it was probably just sleep deprivation, not a hag (!!!)

The tattoo discussion gave the rather obvious reveal that Louis's main point in exchanging tats with Jojo was to mildly embarrass him, so he's owed some sort of retribution for covering up the shit emoji (typo in FITF sees like an odd choice, but I'm not in the know on "shaming radio DJs")

Disguises are silly because even on Louis's first ski trip after he was famous, he was covered head to toe, you could only see his eyes, and people still spotted him and wanted photos. Jojo figures someone must have told them, and Louis thinks it's because of Harry being equally famous the person who he was with, but Jojo points out that Harry this person would have been covered up, too, which really gets Louis thinking, lmao. I loved the bit with Jojo staring into Louis's eyes (Louis: "Yeah, you get it now")

Old friends are super British about Louis's fame and aren't that bothered ("in the nicest way"), so once a year (!!), they'll give him a well done ("I know--at least I hope--that they're proud of me, we don't talk about it," what, not even Stan? ouch)

Louis DOES have a special relationship with Chicago, this affiliation, so the goings on in the song are half theoretical/imaginative and half based on real events (OOHHHHHH????)

[a-vctlan]

"All I’m asking is that you hear me out." — @youmourn

Tension lingers, friction in the air that could almost be cut, a pervasive feeling that seemed only to accentuate the heaviness with which Barret leaned on the table between them with his good arm, holding in hand a drink Tifa had pre-emptively fetched him in an attempt to have him at least open for consideration.

And, well. He was. He trusted Tifa's judgment. Didn't mean he trusted Shin-Ra mutts, though, be they abandoned or not.

( "We're hurting for help, right? Zack's the real deal!" )

A weary huff of an exhale exits through his nose as if baffled that he was even considering it, but it's as much as an invitation for SOLDIER boy to get on with it as anything else.

"Don't be thinking I'll be sympathizing with the two of you over some sob story… but go on then, I'm listenin'. What made you wanna turn on your masters, pooch?"

He can feel Tifa glaring daggers into the back of his head, her sigh audible from where she was behind the counter, doing a terrible job at acting like she was just cleaning up and not listening in to their conversation - no doubt willing to step in should tensions get too high for comfort. Hopefully, she did warn the poor sod about just how strongly anti-Shin-Ra Barret was - the fact that he didn't throttle every middle manager he saw was a feat in and of itself.

But for all his bite, there he is, sitting back in his chair now that he admitted to being willing to at least hear the guy out, beer mug brought to his lips as if to stop himself from saying anything else. Whatever it was that brought Zack here, willing to help out one of the many terrorist cells he must have fought against… it couldn't have been pretty.

Because honest to Gaia, they looked like shit the first time he saw them. Even now, with his dark eyes hidden behind even darker shades, Barret can't help but just watch as the other sat there and talked, taking in both mannerisms and appearance - Zack looked rough, like he was shaking off the tail end of a bad flu, not quite at his prime. Much better than his blond buddy, though.

But if what the propaganda said about SOLDIERs was anything close to reality, as long as they were in a condition to fight… yeah. Their plans would go a lot smoother.

And the shortened tale he hears is plenty enough to understand their motivation for payback, however…

"… Look, even with all that behind you, I need you to think hard on this: can you actually handle the job? D'ya think you can stomach it?" His voice lowers, here, and he sits straight again, resting the empty mug on the table. "I won't make light of it: there's risk involved. And lots of it. For you, for the people around you." Regret nests here, but he does not let it linger, chasing it off with a fist that he raises as if to make a point, always a man who loves his motivational speeches. "But if it isn't us little guys banding together, being willing to take the fight to Shin-Ra, then no one's gonna do it and things ain't EVER gonna get better, and the planet will continue to be bled dry until all they'll have left to eat is their damn money!"

He'd stood up somewhere in the middle of that rant, and dramatically does he settle back down, although with a semi-amused scoff. "Heh, knowing them, though, they'd probably try and find a way to fly off and find another planet to leech off if they could."

[mainstoryarchive]

Ensemble - 96: Hopes

Jin: Thank you, thank you.

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Location: Auditorium

Jin: Thank you, thank you.

Thank you very much for coming to our school today.

It looks like we have a large audience despite the fact that we couldn't advertise much beforehand.

It's the first time our school has tried this kind of format for a DreamFes, too. It's an event that will serve as a kind of experiment. We apologize in advance for any inconvenience you might experience.

I also apologize that an old man like myself appeared even though you came to see young and cute idols.

Usually a cute guy named Nito does things like presenting.

But he's also an idol; he's participating with his unit, so he's busy.

Almost every student from Yumenosaki Academy will be participating in this DreamFes… DDD. That's why, to be honest, we're actually short on hands.

Tallying the votes and the like will be done by us teachers to maintain fairness.

…Or would it have been better to introduce myself before explaining all of this?

Hmm, it's been a while since I stood on stage so I can't quite grasp when I should be doing what. My senses must be getting dull, age really is something you don't want to gain. Aren't I right, Kunugi-sensei?

Akiomi: Jin. No, Sagami-sensei… Cut the chatter and promptly go on with explaining.

Goodness. This DreamFes doesn't have any meaning. It's certain that fine will win in the end, anyway.

Their abilities, popularity, talent and everything else; there's nothing to criticize. They are at the top of this school.

In the first place, we teachers unanimously choose them as our representatives for the SS under fair judgment.

Feeling dissatisfaction over that and opening a DreamFes like this is preposterous.

They're under evaluating our ability to judge them; it's accurate to come to that conclusion, yes?

It's sad that the students don't have trust in us, but it isn't prudent to waste time.

Tenshouin-kun as well, just what is he thinking… I won't forgive selfishness like this for a second time.

Jin: Yes yes. Let's stop complaining and get to work, we are adults after all. Akiyan, you've been high strung from a long time ago, you'll go bald like that.

Akiomi: Don't call me 'Akiyan', Sagami-sensei.

Jin: You're in a worse mood than usual. However, I am quite excited, unbecoming of my age.

Youth is nice, isn't it? Being reckless and stuff, and trying things with all their might ♪

Akiomi: Jin. At least make sure not to smoke when you're on stage, the audience can see you.

You wasted your life as an idol with alcohol, tobacco and women, don't you feel any regret?

Jin: It's reverse teaching. Disciplining them harshly and only letting them take in good things isn't how you teach.

I mean, I'm not even an idol anymore, so it's fine, isn't it? I won't let the brats imitate me, after all.

You should let yourself go out sometimes, otherwise you'll go bald.

Akiomi: I won't go bald! I take care with my diet and don't slack with my hair care!

Jin: Hahaha. As always, you're somehow off—or should I say, you kind of have a wealthy kid kind of temperament, Akiyan… Well, that's also fine.

The good things about idols can't be measured in numbers.

It happens all the time that guys that we teachers have deemed excellent are useless when they finally get up on stage or the like.

That's why this kind of competition where idols are compared at face value isn't bad either. They're even more fair and practical.

Akiyan, you like logic, but you also learned the hard way that in the idol business logic doesn't always work.

Akiomi: … …

Jin: What it is to be an idol, how you can make the audience the happiest… I think that that is everything.

No matter how well you can sing or dance, no matter how pretty your face is, no matter how good your sense for singing or outfit is…

That stuff doesn't matter. Those won't be good for anything.

Even if you get full marks on a test, that doesn't mean you get full marks as an idol.

The value of idols is much more vague—it's something to be taken in perspective, and it's precious.

I've also been an idol for a long time, and I've raised a lot of idols as a teacher here, but… I still don't know what exactly that 'precious something' is.

It's difficult. I am not good with things that require a lot of logic, after all.

But the greatest joy for an idol, their happiness, is the smiles of the audience.

It is their applause, their cheering, their positive reactions. Idols shine the most when they have gained those.

That shine illuminates this world and makes the lives of those who come into contact with it even a little bit more joyful. Isn't that what idols are?

Among the brats from our school, just which unit will shine the most?

They'll be compared in front of the many audience members to confirm that.

The DDD might be the most suitable way for us to decide the representatives for the SS, the best idols in our school.

[ ☆ ]

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[hotch-stufff]

Fluff #8, Angst #5 and Fluff #43 with Gibbs, please. The reader is in her late 20s, Gibbs and her got into a fight because the reader isn't sure about the age gap and Gibbs is trying to push her away because he's afraid of letting her in

Hard To Believe

gif by dwayne-pride

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

Warnings!: angst, slight pining, making out, kissing, crying, but ofc a fluffy ending

Prompts: Fluff #8 “I realized something.” “What?” “I love you”, Fluff #43 “Is it so hard to believe that I love you?", Angst #5 “I love you” “No you don’t

Author's Note: I know its not quite how you described, kinda switched to where reader pushes him away. Hope you still enjoy!!

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Loving Gibbs was easy. It was too easy. Too easy to fall for him. Too easy to look at him and allow your heart to flutter. To easy to feel butterflies every time he brushed your arm. That was the easy part.

The hard part was hiding it. Or figuring out if or when you would tell him. The hard part was pretending. Pretending you didn't care, pretending he didn't matter to you.

And you didn't even know if he would feel the same. You were, considerably younger, 13 years to be exact. And people would say things. You shouldn't care what people think, but it could ruin Gibbs reputation, and that you cared about. So you wouldn't tell him. You couldn't tell him. And that was the hard part.

You never expected a relationship. But you definitely didn't expect him to show up at your door and confess his own feelings.

It had been a rainy night, very cliche. He knocked repeatedly on your door until you finally answered. You were shocked to see him there, drenched. You invited him inside, and took his jacket, hanging it to dry. And he sat on your couch, silent per usual. You sat there for a while before speaking up.

"Soo, you gonna tell me why you're here?" You said, trying to start a conversation.

"I'm not sure what to do here." Was his only response. He looked nervous, which was strange for Gibbs. He wasn't a nervous person. He was always put together and confident. But he wasn't wither of those right now. He was slumped over, thinking hard. He was fumbling with his hands. He looked so ... vulnerable.

"Gibbs, whats wrong? What happened?"

"I just, I realized something."

"What?"

"I love you." The words were spoken clearly, and confidently. You were taken aback. Shocked was an understatement. Seconds ticked by, and silence filled the room. The only noise was the rain hitting your roof. He stared at you expectantly, waiting for some type of response.

"W-what?" Was all you could muster up. His face fell. "What do you mean? You're not serious. You can't be serious."

"Is it so hard to believe that I love you?" He asked, his voice was quieter. Gibbs didn't express his feelings often. He was opening up to you, allowing himself to be vulnerable. But you couldn't give in, could you?

"Yeah." He hadn't expected that. "Gibbs, your 13 years older than me, your my boss." He froze. You knew he had to have taken this into consideration. Why was it not enough to stop him?

"I don't care. I love you Y/n." You could feel the tears gather. You two couldn't be together. He had already been through enough in life, he didn't need the judgment that would come from being with you.

"Well, I dont feel the same." You said, your heart breaking a little bit with each passing second.

"Yes you do." He stood up angrily. "You do, but your avoiding them." You sighed.

"Gibbs-" he cut you off.

"No, you love me too. I know you do y/n. I know because everytime you look at me, its the same look that I'm giving you. You blush anytime we are near each other. You're always there to make sure that I'm okay." Gibbs didn't speak a lot. He was a functional mute, as they say. But he sure as hell was saying a lot now. Saying a lot of truth. A truth you couldn't allow to happen. So you lied.

"Those are all things a good employee does." You really tried to make it as convincing as you could.

"Employee, really?" He paused "Bullshit." He stood there waiting for your response. He only needed one more push and he would be gone. "Why won't you just tell the truth?"

"That is the truth Gibbs! This would never work between us!"

"What is it? That we work together?" You didn't move a muscle. "That I'm a closed off person." He paused. "Is it that I'm older than you?!" You flinched slightly and he knew that was it. You needed him gone before you ended up telling him that you loved him too. You knew exactly what to say to push him away.

"I don't love you Gibbs. I can't even trust that you would be with me long before moving on again." That did it. In that moment you forgot why you were pushing him away, especially after seeing the pain in his eyes. It was there for only a moment, before they went blank. His face following soon after. He nodded his head, and walked out, slamming the door.

And you fell to the floor in tears. You had to do it. You couldn't be together. You couldn't. It wasn't right. You were young, he needed someone older, more mature. Someone who wouldn't add to his baggage. Someone who wouldn't add on to everything he's been through. You couldn't be together.

These were the words you repeated to yourself as you cried yourself to sleep.

* * *

The next day was hell. The next week was hell. Everything sucked. Gibbs was on a rampage, pissed off and pissing off everyone else. He avoided you at all costs. The most he talked to you, was when he barked an order. You expected that.

What you didn't expect was the guilt. You thought you were doing the right thing. Pushing him away was the right thing to do. So why did you feel so bad? Why did a pang of guilt hit your heart evertime you looked at him.

Why were you filled with guilt everytime you saw the frown that adorned his face. Or everytime he snapped at Tony, Ziva, Tim, and even Abby. The guilt was consuming you to a point that you could barely bare seeing him. You had been trying not to hurt him, but he was in more pain now that he would have been had you told him the truth.

Would it really be so bad? To love him. To be with him. You couldn't remember why you didn't tell him you loved him in the first place.

You had to tell him. If he never forgave you, that would have to be something you lived with. But you had to explain. You had to tell him the truth.

So this time, it was you showing up at his house. His open door policy was something you were grateful for because you aren't sure if he would have just slammed the door in your face had you knocked.

You found him in the basement, sanding away at a boat. A glass of Bourbon sitting on the bench. He looked ... bad. Tired and angry. You hated that it was all because of you.

"Gibbs." He spun around, glaring at you.

"The hell are you doing here." You gulped and took a step forward.

"I uh, I came t-to apolagize." You stuttered out.

"Get out." He barked at you.

"Gibbs, wait please." You begged. You would get on your hands and knees and beg if you needed to. You had to tell him.

"What?"

"I love you."

"No you don't." He didn't believe you. It wasn't surprising, you wouldn't have believed yourself either after everything you had said. So you began explaining, pouring everything out.

"Yes I do. So much. I know what I said was, awful and so wrong on so many different levels. And I'm sorry, I know you hate apologies, but I'm sorry. I was scared. I'm so much younger than you and I thought people would judge you. And I know its stupid, but I didn't want that to be another thing you had to go through. I didn't want to ruin your reputation. You carry enough baggage as it is, with the job and just everything. I couldn't add my own baggage to that. But this past week has been hell without you, and it makes me forget everything. You make me forget. And so I'm so sorry Gibbs, because I DO love you. I love you so fucking much." He let you finish your little speech, remaining silent.

And he stood there remaining silent for a good 5 minutes, before he was marching forward and slamming your lips together.

It had taken you aback, and you faltered slightly, allowing him to press you up against the boat. He pressed into you, lips moving together passionately. His nose bumping yours, your hair falling in your face. He lightly moved it away before deepening the kiss. His tounge fighting for dominance. You gave it to him with a small moan. You could barely focus on anything other than him. The kiss ... it was more than you could have ever imagined. And man had you imagined this moment. You had wanted this for so long.

"You're so stupid." He said, breaking away and pressing his lips down your neck.

"I know." He smiled against you, and bit down slightly on your skin. You let out a surprised gasp, and his lips were back on yours.

"I love you." You spoke against his lips. He pulled back so that just your noses were touching.

"Love you too." And he kissed you again, and again, and again. Leaving you with a night you would never forget.

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Loved writing this. Let me know what you think!! Thanks for reading! Requests are still open, so ask away! If you would like an idea of what to request, here is my prompt list, and if you would like to read more of my work, here is my masterlist.

[cryingbluez]

(Sorry about all the chaos in this, I did try to go thru it and clean it up a bit, but its all just rambles, so yeah sorry if u don't get anything. This is all copy pasted from my ramble on my art book on Wattpad)

HHHHHH okay, so I did say I was making my own version of Jouta (I can't remember if I also said I'd be remaking his stand as well. but that as well X'D). So here you go heres my version of Jouta and his stand 'Charmy Green' ("Devil Freefall"). The second pic of his stand is just to show how tall it is compared to Jouta (my Jouta is 6'3) (also forgot to mention in Devil's ref but the tail's are optional to draw uwu) Despite the stand looking completely different, I wanted to somewhat keep Jouta looking similar to his original design, since ima be honest, I like the original design. I just wanted to add more elements of Kak to him, idk if I managed to succeed with that thou. Oh well its fineeeee.

(More info+Backstory (My Jouta's backstory is different to the original Jouta's) under the cut, I didn't want this post to get too long.) (Yet again sorry for all the chaos under the cut, I was writing it quick before my brain died, so things may be a bit mixed up? lets hope I got everything right X'D)

His stands name is based off of the song "Rainbow Kitten Surprise - freefall". And Jouta's stand Mainly does shit like explosions. His stand makes him invulnerable to things like fire and other explosions. Only if its (Devil Freefall) either fully summoned, or has itself wrapped around Jouta His stand can let him do similar shit that you see in FireForce as well as if his stand gets a good punch on someone it can do (a smaller version of) "Crimson Moon"- from FireForce. So basically his stand is kinda op. BUT I think my Jouta as a character balances it out, basically Jouta doesn't really use it to its full potential, since nearly always has it unravelled. He refuses to fight along side people to, due to his stands power he is afraid he'd hurt someone.  Friend or Foe his stand will harm them.  On top of that Jouta is very driven by emotion, thats his downfall in most things. And may be the thing that trips him up in a battle. He can also be quite selfish with things, especially when it comes to Kak, pretty much he'll do what HE believes is best, even if it isn't the best thing.  haha au time :D (also a au where no one dies) His backstory is different from the original. Basically, to put it somewhat simply, a stand user that was a follower of Dio attacked both Jotaro and Kakyoin. Hurt them pretty bad, but they managed to come out on top and kill the stand user, but the stand user could 'cheat death' in a way, but at the cost of memory and defence? (in a way. Since he becomes young, can end up as a child.)  Using Jotaro's and Kakyoin's blood his stand basically remade it's user in a way before 'dying'. (Remade itself loosly off of Kak's and Joots's stand) Making Jouta. (the more blood there is that the stand could have gotten, the older the user could create the body, since there wasn't too much of their blood it made Jouta around 6 years old)

At first they (mainly Jotaro) were gonna kill him again, but quickly realized that Jouta had no memories of his previous life and was basically just a 6 year old. Jotaro still didn't trust him, but trusted Kakyoin's judgment on the situation.  To which when they dragged Jouta along with them to the rest of the group and explained what happened. It was also met with scepticism. But after a while was dismissed. Joseph was more so happy to have a kid about (despite the situation they were all in trying to get to Dio).  Joseph and Kakyoin mainly taking care of Jouta, with Avdol and Polnareff taking care of him every so often (more so acted as uncle figures towards Jouta). Jotaro still held his scepticism about Jouta, so tended to avoid him when he could.  They discovered that Jouta had a new stand, though no one ever fully saw it, only it unravelled, not even seeing the stands hands or anything.

When it came to the Dio fight they sent Jouta to the Speedwagon Foundation. Not wanting to involve a child in the last fight. (kept him along with them up until that point, since as much as they'd like to believe that Jouta was a kid, he came from an enemy dying and remaking themselves. So they didn't want to put the Speedwagon Foundation in trouble if Jouta did turn on them. Which obviously wasn't the case.) (since this is a everyone lives au people just end up injured in the hospital after the fight) After the fight Jouta got to see the others again, and refused to leave Kakyoin's side, partly blaming himself for what happed to Kak, wanting to protect him. Making a promise to himself that he will never let anyone else hurt Kak. He partly understood he couldn't have done anything about it, but it's just the fact he could have tried to stop Kak from going to the fight, but didn't. Obviously a few years go by, and Jouta stays by Kak, things did get better in terms of him and Jotaro, but he (Jouta) obviously didn't like him (Jotaro) as much as Kak. He normally gets asked to run errands for Kak or the Speedwagon Foundation, normally delivering things to Jotaro when he was in Morioh (which led to him meeting Josuke).

(thats all I got so far, but yee, obviously I could expand on this story a lot more, but the jist of it is, Jouta born from blood, adores Kak with his life and would die for Kak since Kak was the only one who truly believed in him since the start, Jouta would also die for Joseph, he ends up living with Kak after the events of part 3, does once and a while spend time with Jotaro (maybe spends a week with him every so often, he would do it more, its just he hates being away from Kak)) (In this au Jotaro and Kak become best friends pretty quick before Jouta, and still remain best friends. Since Jouta looks similar enough to Kak when Jotaro gets his wife, they pretend that Jouta came from a past relationship that Kak was in, and that Jotaro became a second dad to him. Which (idk if she has a name) Jotaro's wife quickly became a mother figure to Jouta. So when Jolyne was born, they were raised as siblings in the context of Jotaro's and Kak's lie, despite them being actual siblings. When Jotaro ends up divorcing his wife Jouta still visits her and Jolyne since he adores the two as well. Helping them both out when they can, Kak also remains on good terms with the wife after the divorce. )  (idk if I will end up adding more to this, so yeah just take what I got, if anyone got any questions just ask oof)

[ziracona]

And I hate to do this- So on that thread, not that he's as bad, why do you think Michael is redeemable? (and also Frank) Especially by his main victim? :? I hope that isn't as bad or as judgmental as I think it sounds... - Sleepy (its like 5am here :3 living up to my name i see)

So, these I gave a short and a long answer for under cut, but forgot I’m on mobile and can’t do that. I can tag it “long post” but uhhh, sorry about this. Anyway, thats why Frank comes in two chunks. I wrote it expecting to be able to use a read more. :’-] also ya fine. And I hope you’re in bed 🤣 now. Okay so. Here’s my reasons:

For Michael, to start, Halloween is complicated af. You have to know what timeline people are talking about, because there are like 8+ and Michael has been written as a wildly different character by wildly different content creators, and I would not feel the same ways towards them all. They’re not the same character. When I talk about Michael, unless I’m going on about a specific other film, I mean either H20 canon, or DbD canon, which are in line with each other when it comes to characterization. (This also includes Halloween’s 1 & 2 in the H20 line, and Halloween 1 at least in DbD). In those timelines, Michael has like at best 2% agency and choice in his own life and what he becomes. That’s why I am sympathetic. I still root for Laurie to nail his ass to the wall of course, and everything he has done to hurt someone isn’t okay just because his life is unfair & awful & out of his control, but I still find him a very tragic character. He was canonically suffering violent psychosis his parents refused him treatment for, isolated with a monster as his doctor & only human contact for 15 years from age 6 on, overdosed on medications that when OD’d worsen psychosis symptoms and can cause permanent brain damage, and stuck like that until escaping briefly when he turned 21.

In Halloween canon, Michael tells his parents he hears voices telling him to do bad things like hurt people, but they tell him he is imagining stuff, and ignore his attempts to get help. The voices say they will be quiet, which is what he desperately wants, if he kills his sister Judith. So he does, at age six. Scientifically speaking, that’s literally too young to really have a complete grasp on death and mortality itself, let alone complex ethics. He immediately goes to his parents after doing the deed, so they can do whatever they need to do. Instead of getting him help, he is sentenced to 15 years in a 1960s American sanitorium (hell), until he turns 21 and can be tried for murder as an adult (fucking ridiculous and unfair?? Tried as an adult is for like, upper teens who commit heinous murders. How tf you justify trying a six year old literally too young to really understand murder as an adult for murdering someone??). They give him to Dr. Sam Loomis, a fucking horrible person, who says he spends 8 years trying to help Michael (a fkn lie), but canonically by only a few months of meeting the kid is thoroughly convinced he is evil, the devil or a demon in human form, faking his psychosis and side effect symptoms (trauma induced mutism from killing his sister, onset of catatonia/motion loss symptoms, etc, all of which are common with his disorder & trauma), desperate to kill again, and an evil mastermind doing the devil’s work, and says so. Spends four hours every day accusing Michael as a six year old child on, of planning to do horrible things and faking his illness and being a demon and not a human, and Loomis, from age 6 to 21, is this kid’s only human contact. And the staff knew it and how wrong and disturbed Loomis was, but did nothing. So from age 6 to 21—barring one or two visits from his mom & Laurie before his dad beat 4 year old Laurie for saying Michael’s, who he hated after Judith’s death, name—until she trauma blocked out having had a brother or sister at all, and then both parents died in a car crash—his only human contact in complete isolation was an adult man who told him for four hours a day he was an evil lying demon faking his symptoms and plotting murder and not a human and promised he would kill Michael and stop him, from childhood on, and that was it. He was never given an understanding of what was medically wrong with him, or that anything was at all. He was threatened and abused and kept overdosed on drugs for 15 years since early childhood, and his only understanding of the world taught in that absolute isolation, was that he was a demon who wanted to get out and kill again. And the violent psychosis, telling him if he killed both sisters, they would go away and leave him in peace with no more constant noise. With no normal understanding of the world or people or life like he was owed ever given to him, no understanding at all of what you were going through or were aside from the promise drilled into your head you were a monster who wanted to kill every day for 15 years while drugged up? Like, I’m a firm believe people are responsible for their own actions, but in a case as extreme as that, honestly, how else was that ever going to even be able to end? You forget, as a child. Who you used to be. That’s beyond grooming even, it’s being grown in a lab for the sole purpose of someday walking out, taking a large kitchen knife, and killing Laurie Strode. And it’s tragic. It’s unfair. Halloween is a tragedy, not a horror film. It didn’t have to be that way. He wanted help. He asked for help. Loomis is directly and pretty much solely responsible for the lives lost in 1978. You know he won’t even call Michael “him”? The only human he contact he had since age six on called him “it.” And no one stopped any of that. And even then. Even then, even with all that. With the drugs, and the lab grown killer, and all of it? Michael is pretty much the single least sadistic slasher killer there /is/.

Everyone he kills in Halloween? He kills fast. It’s actually kind of boring if you’re expecting a scary slasher, because there’s no chase until Laurie. He just appears, runs you through, and you die. Very fast. And if there is any emotion expressed towards the act of killing or aftermath, it’s not pleasure or hate or happiness, it’s curiosity, because literally everything is something he wasn’t allowed to experience growing up and just has no practical experience with yet. And on top of all that, he also just doesn’t kill people he doesn’t have to. He kills one man for clothes, kills Annie to re-do Judith’s murder since it didn’t work the first time and he needs both sisters for the voices to stop, and he kills Bob and Lynda becuase they stumble onto where he is & are a threat to success. (This + Judith 15 years prior is all the deaths in Halloween period, btw). Michael routinely only kills his target, and anyone who is a threat to success. Literally doesn’t even jump out to kill Bob or attack until Bob opens the door to the closet he was hiding in, and he has been seen. Walks past a security guard and lets him go in H20 becuase he doesn’t see him, steals keys from a mom with her 4 year old kid and doesn’t even hurt them because they don’t see him really either, steals a knife from an old lady making a sandwich who is one foot away but looking the other direction, so he lets her go. Even with all the possible stakes against him, really, Michael is like, the least cruel and most sympathetic and merciful version of that lab grown killer possible, which can only be a testament to the person he was initially/still somehow has managed to keep faint traces of alive inside.

As for Laurie finding him redeemable, answer is threefold I guess, and I’ll start with the most important. 1: in Halloween canon, Laurie cares for Michael and is incredibly sad about what he turned into and wishes he could be different (once she remembers who he is). That’s established canon, not a choice of mine. In Halloween 2, she tries to talk him down before shooting him, and he hesitates when she says his name and lowers his weapon for a moment. In H20, she talks about him a lot & even asks her boyfriend (a psychologist) if he thinks something so traumatic can happen to someone that they can never recover, bc even though she hasn’t seen him in 20 years, he’s still on her heart. She hesitates to kill him once she has him helpless in the finale, and when he reaches out for her hand, she almost cries and starts to reach back because it’s what she has truly wanted for so long. 2: Michael & Laurie are siblings, and that’s a very important relationship to me. Obviously, there’s lines where you cross, it’s fkn over, but it is special, and I’m weak for it. They were both cheated of the good family life they could have had, and I like characters I care for getting recovery and rehabilitation, and I would like them to be able to recover and have whatever fragments of the lives they wanted which are still possible. And then 3: Laurie is his victim, but they’re also both victims of Loomis, and the system, and her parents, and if she does /wish/ for him to be okay and things to be like they were, which was canon before me, so she does, then I think them finding happiness and her relief and new hope in regained family and him redemption and rehabilitation through the quite literally only person he has /ever/ known who treated him well or like even a human at all & is still living, that’s so good. It’s sweet, and it makes sense. I like broken people putting the pieces together and finding ways to be okay. None of the shit that happened to either of them was okay, and Michael sure did fucking do it, but it’s about as “it’s complicated” as literally possible, and Laurie wants him to be her brother again, and Michael deserves a chance to experience personhood enough to want anything like that again too, and I think it’s sweet. To be able to find happiness and peace and a new life in that rubble. It shouldn’t be possible, because Halloween is a tragedy that never gets a happy ending, no matter how many timelines they create or versions they tell, but I wish it could have one. It needs one. At least one, among all the fated tragedies for those two cruelly cursed siblings. They both had their lives stolen. Michael by Loomis, and Laurie by Michael. And I want them to find those stolen lives again. And if they can do it together, that’s a very odd and unusual set of circumstances for that kind of thing, but it’s a very complete way to tell the story. He tried to kill her, but if she asked him to stop and he stopped, if he himself chose to change on his own, when it really, really mattered—decided that it was what he wanted more than all the things he was before, and she decided that was enough, and they could both have a future as family? I like that. It’s a happy ending stolen back.

Long Frank Answer, in case you /have/ read ILM & thus short answer did not answer your question: So. Again, for me, I always talk about Frank as in the version of him I myself write, and I wrote ILM before the archives retcon, and also just ignore them because they’re usually dumb and blatantly contradict well established and longstanding canon. Even then, I usually don’t like Frank though—didn’t like him when I started writing ILM. But Frank has very little established canon character. All there is for sure is he was a foster kid that went through some bad stuff, he met Julie and changed his mind about desperately trying to be homed somewhere other than with Clive bc he liked Julie a lot, he met Susie and Joey, they became a gang chilling in Ormond’s abandoned lodge, then tried to rob a store Joey was fired from, were surprised by a cleaner who grabbed Julie, and Frank impulse stabbed him, freaked, and ordered the others to finish it with him and be in it together. Then before they’d even really finished burying the body, they got snagged. That leaves a whole lot of personality and thoughts and motivations and future choices and person wildly undetermined. Writing, sometimes characters just do their own thing completely out of my control, and I have to adapt. Frank chose not to kill Meg at the end of Tenacity, Adrenaline, & Grit, which surprised me, because he’d been nothing but a dipshit asshole bastard till one minute ago, but I knew it was because he recognized what she’d tried to do at great pain to herself because she wouldn’t bow down and die, and he connected/empathized or sympathized on some level. He also couldn’t go through with killing Quentin immediately after being helped by him in Distortion/Iron Maiden. Neither was like, planned. It’s just who the character was. I was frustrated. I did not want to like or feel sympathy for Frank at all. Then in The Lost, Jeff just fkn hijacked the whole plot and added 20 pages not in the outline because he wanted to be kind to Frank & it’s not like I can stop characters when they do whatever they do. And while writing it, I got to know that the version of Frank Morrison in the world I was writing—which is always the version I refer to/think of him as & write now myself—was not somebody past saving. He’s a piece of shit and he’s done fucked up and inexcusable stuff, and he pays for it. In many ways, Frank gets away with a lot over the course of ILM, but it’s always because characters choose on their own to forgive him, not because they or he doesn’t think it was fucked. And Frank suffers—a lot���for his choices, and has to live through appropriate and large amounts of regret and remorse about stuff he did before the end. He gets the chance to make better choices several times, and mostly he doesn’t. He continues to fuck up. But right near the end, he makes a couple good decisions when it’s down to the wire, sees where his bad choices got him and what he has to live with, and then he does live with it. He almost dies, and then ends up falling on Jeff’s mercy, which he knows he doesn’t deserve and doesn’t expect to get, for a last chance to make it, and because Jeff is an ungodly kind and forgiving soul, he makes it.

Frank isn’t a good person, and he does a lot of stuff that isn’t remotely okay or justified or excused, but he /is/ a kid—the upper end of it, but he’s not a full grown adult. He has every reason to believe nothing of himself or others, a fucked up childhood and life which isn’t his fault, and the Entity got all four Legion kids before they’d even had time to process the one and only violent crime they did (which was unplanned), and it is historically running a PHD in psychological warfare vs everyone. Absolutely none of that excuses or justifies him, but it is an explanation for some of it that is not as bad as say, doing that shit for fun or cruelty or hate or what have you, which makes him a bad person, but one with a lot more humanity left than say, Kenneth. Who is at -100 or something. If he’s still got a lot of humanity left, that means he could be redeemed, and he eventually chooses that path for himself and hits the appropriate “I did something horrible. Fuck. It was really bad. I should not have done it.” “I am really sorry I did this. I feel awful. I’m sorry.” “I cant change it, but I can try to do better and make whatever reparations I can.” “I want to be better, and I am going to try.” necessary stages of actually trying to improve. So, I like him. He did a lot of really awful shit that wasn’t okay, but he was never without sympathetic elements. He does love his friends and his girlfriend, he is a good boyfriend to Julie and selfless towards her and his crew (overall anyway—has even risked death for them very willingly, even the one who was fighting with/kinda hated him), will keep his word in deals and has some semblance of both sympathy and honor, feels guilt, is a kid, did not choose this life but was rather catapulted into it and too weak to climb out once he landed in the mud. All of that together makes him someone I feel sympathy towards and find quite redeemable, so long as he will decide he wants that, which, in ILM, he does. If you just meant Frank in general then idk how to answer because there’s not much established Frank period it’s kinda a shell like all original dead by daylight characters, and I have no thoughts on it by itself because it’s not a whole person, and so I really only think of Frank as ILM verse Frank now.

[sonicasura]

Sonic May Cry

Today is Groundhog Day and the entire internet is going into a huge 'Into the ___Verse!' shtick. Basically an Into the Spiderverse based trope where alternate universes cross into one another specifically the characters. This story came from a recent What If situation involving Sonic the Hedgehog that was stewing in my brain yesterday.

And taking alternate universes thing, I delved in deeper with an another alternate universe involving the original Devil May Cry. Mix them both together and I got this.

Time is a very fragile thing and the wrong move can break it. Or: Classic Sonic/Kid Sonic gets blasted into the Devil May Cry universe and causes some big changes.

"Sonic! Run! The rift is closing! If you don't get out of there, you'll be lost in time and space forever! No! Don't do it! Don't leave me! Please! Sonic!!!"

Time was a very precious thing to have. It should never be taken for granted and should never be toyed with. The mechanized menace called the Time Eater had done more damage than either Robotniks could've estimated. The rifts were closing even faster than they should. Someone was going to be left behind with no choice. His best friend Tails wasn't going to be that person if he could help it. His best buddy would be fine without him. For this was his end not Tails. The end of Sonic The Hedgehog. And he welcomed it with open arms.

Great sacrifice comes with a greater reward. Fix their broken hearts, brave little warrior. Heal the wounded hearts of the Sons of Sparda, Sonic the Hedgehog. Right now, they need you the most.

Mitis Forest on the outskirts of Fortuna, a light shone brightly in an open flowerbed. The soft daffodils, petunias and dandelions were greeted by the weight of a small light blue furred hedgehog. The little beast barely reaching 2 ft in height with both face and stomach round with baby fat showing he was quite young. White gloves and red running shoes were the only clothing worn. His muzzle was light peach along with the center of his stomach.

Quills slightly long just like the ones on his back and stubby little tail. Black pupil like eyes slowly opened to be greeted with a vast starry night sky. 'Huh?' Thought Sonic the Hedgehog as he took in his surroundings. He was alive yet… 'What happened? I should be dead.' Sonic thought for a moment. 'This isn't my world that's for sure. And why does my back feel stiff?' The hedgehog then he picked himself off the ground and looked at what he was previously lying on.

Shock became evident as eyes widened when they laid on 7 gray lifeless stones amongst the grass. They looked to be cut into perfect diamond shapes but to Sonic these gemstones were far more precious. 'The Chaos Emeralds?! Why are the Chaos Emeralds here? No better question, why do they look so dead?' He thought picking up one of the lifeless emeralds. It felt really cold to the touch but the hedgehog could feel a tiny bit of energy in the stone.

'Could the emeralds have saved me? No… It did something else. Before I blacked out I thought I heard something. I also feel different too. I feel the same but I can't shake the nagging feeling that something about my body had changed.' He thought before looking at the lights coming from up ahead. He picked up the stones before hiding them in his quills. It was sorta weird on how the Emeralds could hide themselves in his fur like they weren't there but he never bothered about the details.

Sonic walked a bit closer up the hill to see the lights were coming from a large city. What struck him as odd were the large demon statues scattered about the whole place. 'Ain't getting any answers standing here. That city looks like a good place to find out where I am.' With a goal set in mind, he disappeared into a streak of blue as he ran over to the city at supersonic speed.

This city was very odd and quite creepy to the blue blur. Everyone was wearing hoods over their heads, there were armed soldiers about and the place seemed...tense almost ominous. It was the kind of feeling he got running into Robotnik's base or places like Chemical Plant Zone. That something nasty was brewing on the surface. A feeling that no town or city should have.

Speeding past everyone had earned a very unexpected cry of sorts. "Demon! There's a demon!" Demons? This was even stranger to him than meeting his older counterpart that could TALK. His voice box was stunted so he couldn't actually talk but the problem would resolve himself once he turned 10 years old. A few years didn't look so bad though it'll suck if no one can read his charades well.

A tiny hand grabbed his nose surprising the little hedgehog that he nearly crashed into a dumpster when he skidded to a halt. Plucking the nose grabber wasn't as shocking as finding out who had done the deed. A little human baby with white hair and blue eyes had managed to hitch a ride on him. A baby boy in a blue onesie had hitchhiked a ride on the FASTEST thing alive.

'#$#!@ How the heck did you get on me?! You must have insane reflexes to grab me in mid-run!' Sonic thought looking at the baby. His brain halted upon spotting what was really odd about the infant. His right arm was blue with little red scales and had tiny blue claws! It was even glowing light blue through the cracks of each scale! 'Nevermind. You ain't no normal baby because human babies don't have an arm like that.' He thought with a deadpanned expression.

The baby merely babbling as he tried to grab Sonic's nose again though Sonic pulling the baby away from his prize. The child was giggling and all happy before he immediately began to cry strangely. The hedgehog easily catching onto the sound of what he could guess were soldiers behind him yet they were talking about a 'project Nero'. Sonic immediately looking at the baby or Nero in his hands and couldn't help the rage bubbling inside him. He pushed it down before cradling the child in his arms and breaking into a sprint.

'No way those jerks are getting ya little buddy! They're insane to think babies are some kind of science fair project! Time to ditch this crazy island!' Sonic thought as he began to steadily speed up. He needed enough speed to run across ocean surface and he didn't want to accelerate too quickly or he would end up hurting Nero. It was a good thing to know that city was an actual island so he had many places to go from there.

The hedgehog glimpsing a map about a port town that was the closest to Fortuna or the island he was on. A smile grew on his face as he saw what looked like a pier leading straight towards the wide open blue. Without hesitation, Sonic sped up further before using the pier as a ramp. Both hedgehog and baby flying high into the air as a blue streak of light amongst the starry sky.

Nero giggling happily at the sight before him and the rush of wind going by his form. 'Glad you like the wind as much as I do. Have zero clue on caring for a baby but I could find some way to take care of ya.' He thought with a smile before looking down to see they were getting closer to the water. Being quick he immediately began to run after touching the top gliding across the dark blue surface.

Finding land once more was a good feeling considering he had been running for quite a bit. Truth was that the hedgehog wasn't fully recovered after waking up in this new world. The effects were beginning to show as fatigue was starting to slowly wash over him. He rather not drown with a baby in his arms. Sonic sped up a bit more so he can at least reach the beach.

He could rest there with Nero for the night before picking up his search for answers tomorrow. The hedgehog quickly slowed down as he skidded off the water and into the soft beach sand though not without tumbling up a bit at the end. Seaweed had gotten tangled around his legs leading the blue blur to take a header though taking the brunt of the impact so Nero wouldn't.

Something hard hitting his head was the last thing he felt before falling to his side and vision going black. Yet for a short second, he felt saw something red and blue coming closer to him. Everything was whispers leading to silence.

"Are you sure that woman wasn't hallucinating on what she saw? Humans tend to easily be mislead." A cold male voice said with irritation. Two twin males with snow white hair and pale skin walked across the beach shores sand. One whose hair was slicked back, eyes verdant, dressed in black shirt, long blue coat embroidered in gold and blue katana being the only difference to his twin.

The other had his hair down, bright blue eyes and wore no shirt but a black shirt, red coat, and had a giant black broadsword on his back yet walked easily as if the blade weighed nothing. "Lady swore on her own mother about what she saw Verge. Something was travelling across the ocean. A blue blur faster than even you! She said it was heading towards this very beach." The male in red fired back.

"My name is Vergil. You know that so use it foolish brother. I don't know why you took her words or judgment to account so quickly Dante." Vergil growled back at his twin. "Says the guy who raised a giant tower in the middle of the city." Vergil was ready to stab his twin when a streak of blue grabbed their attention. It was coming from over the distance as it glided upon the watery surface.

It slowed down enough for both twins to see what it actually was: a small blue hedgehog in red running shoes. They didn't question the absurdity upon noticing the little guy tripping before rolling into a rock head first knocking the fella unconscious. The brothers running to inspect the injured animal who was nearly balled up into a perfect sphere.

"A demon nestling? No, the little guy doesn't feel like it yet he does have some odd energy. Yet there's something demonic on him." Dante spoke loosening the hedgehog's balled up form to uncover a sleeping Nero cuddled into the hedgehog's fur and stomach. Vergil's eyes widened upon the baby's demonic arm and the energy flowing from it. 

Dante quickly catching onto who the baby actually was. An amused yet heartfelt grin growing on his face at the very conclusion he came to on Nero's identity. "Holy shit. The little fuzzball must have took all the impact so this little fella wouldn't. Never suspected ya to be the first to get laid without protection." Dante quipped only to earn a snarl from his brother.

Verdant eyes soften upon the sight of the infant before looking at the hedgehog that shielded his child from harm. 'The little furball is a mere nestling in age yet it's unfathomable for him to have that type of speed. If trained properly, this young creature will be a powerful force to be reckoned with. A worthy comrade and general." Vergil's devil hissed within the depths of his mind. Neither of them weren't blind to the massive potential the little hedgehog had.

"Vergil! Earth to Vergil!" Had snapped the young man out of his thoughts. He realized that he was cradling both his child AND the hedgehog in his arms. "Looks like someone's demonic maternal instincts decided to kick in. You snatched both the tykes and growled at me." Dante joked with a mischievous grin on his face. Vergil secured the two children into his left arm before pulling out his sword, the Yamato.

He brought the blade slicing a rift in the center of time and space revealing the interior of a shabby shop. He sheathed his sword while a blue spectral one stabbed into his laughing brother's chest. Dante recoiled from the sudden weight yet was still laughing as he followed his brother into the rift. He'll clean up the blood later. Teasing 'Mama Vergil' was more important.

After all, it isn't everyday that a little hedgehog who can run at supersonic speed across the ocean before crashing onto the beach with your older twin brother's baby with him. Or said brother instantly going into papa devil mode and growling at you for even trying to help take care of the unconscious tykes.

It was hilarious on how quick Vergil's personality just swapped because of his primal maternal instincts. The little hedgehog had a nasty bruise and cut on his head from hitting stone at how fast he was going earlier. Vergil threatening to stab his brother if Dante didn't get any bandages to wrap around the injury or any baby products for his son Nero which was the name on the tyke's onesie.

Yet, when Dante came back to seven lifeless stones on the counter of his desk as Vergil sat on the couch with a sleeping Nero nestled into a long silver black tail fast asleep coming from said brother's spine. The little hedgehog was on Vergil's lap while the older brother applied some ointment to the little guy's injury. The hedgehog wincing from the sting but not fighting back or even screaming in pain. "Looks like Sonic is quite the trooper. Despite being conked out, he ain't even letting out a whimper." Vergil gave his brother an odd look.

"Sonic?" The oldest asked in pure confusion. "Got to call him something until he wakes up. Since he was running across the ocean at Mach 1 speed, I thought the name Sonic suited the little guy. He must have some insane pain tolerance though. A bump to the head with your crappy homemade medicine would have me howling." Dante quipped as he handed the medical tape and bandages to his now growling brother.

"By the way, why are there a hunk of rocks on my desk?" The younger male pointed out casually picking up one of the stones. His eyes widened a bit upon detecting the small bit of peculiar energy hidden deep inside the stone. "It was on 'Sonic'. Hidden amongst his fur and quills when I went to inspect for any other injuries despite the absurdity. There is or was some intense power within all 7 of the stones. Something must have drained them dry except for a miniscule amount." Vergil explained giving his brother a serious look.

"Another mystery added about our fuzzy little guest until he wakes up. Glad you still follow the rules that I've set up after the 'recent' incident. 'No hoarding or using any items of potential magic or otherworldly power without Dante's knowledge.'" Dante joked before getting stabbed with another spectral sword in the stomach. The youngest twin had locked the jewels into a lockbox before stuffing them away. After treating both children, Vergil retired to his room upstairs.

Laid both Nero and Sonic down onto his bed before curling his warm body around them followed by his blanket. His demonic nature giving him the incentive to have both in his 'nest' and to keep watch of his 'young'. The thought had him let out an amused snort. Vergil rested his eyes and arms holding both kids near his chest before drifting off to sleep. It was the first night in years that his dreams weren't plagued by gruesome nightmares.

That's it! Kid Sonic basically babynapped Nero from Fortuna, ran across the ocean all the way over to the beach in Capulet before accidentally knocking himself out.

Sonic is like 5 years at the time during the events of Generations. This takes place after the events of Devil May Cry 3 but Dante didn't let Vergil fall into hell. Vergil is under 'Dante' arrest hence that rule until he can be trusted.

He isn't as distant since the events in later games didn't happen so expect this Vergil be a bit softer.

Plus neither of the brothers are blind to the potential our blue blur has and Vergil is going to take the initiative quicker than Dante. This Sonic is going to be OP as hell.

Until next time folks! Jambuhbye!

[hillnerd]

I kinda want you to write a story that would deal with Ron is virgin but Hermione isn't. I just feel like I read a lot of Hermione dealing with Ron sleeping with Lavender (or another girl) but hardly the opposite so I just think it would be interesting. Btw I love your newest story your working on!

Thanks so much! Sorry for the long time coming on this. (Not sure which story you mean, but I think you! I’m assuming Won Won?) 

PG-13- alludes to sexual acts, but doesn’t actually show or describe anything in any detail. 

Ron and Hermione had always been known as a passionate pair of people. He was the hot-headed ginger who would leap into altercations every year. She was the stubborn firebrand who would debate anyone at any given time. When they were together, their verbal spars were well known throughout the school, and now that they were together their passions raged on.

When Hermione had kissed him in the middle of the Hogwarts Battle, it hadn’t been anything chaste or tepid- it had been fiery, ardent, passionate and mindblowing. He’d swept her up in his arms and it had seared through him, having Hermione finally kiss him as he’d always wanted her to.

After the battle and the war, it took a bit for them to get that fire back. Ron found himself haunted by phantom death eaters and visions of his loved ones dying, making him so cautious he seemed like a worried mother hen much of the time. Hermione was uncharacteristically withdrawn, finding it hard to even get out of bed much of the time as nightmares and flashbacks plagued her.

They were able to find their way back to their fire, though, together. Every time they were alone and able to kiss, reverent passion would begin to work its way back into their souls, and soon they found the physical part of their relationship begin to escalate in intensity. Being alone in Australia led to some nights where they very nearly went all the way- but with the stress of everything, they hadn’t quite managed to get there.

Once back in England, Ron moved in the Grimmauld place with Harry. Hermione had been spending much of her time with her parents, trying to rebuild their relationship. He couldn’t blame her, but he also missed her a lot. It made their moments together even more important.

One particularly heated evening at Grimmauld place, when snogging had turned to much more, Hermione rubbed into him in ways that made his whole body rigid with anticipation, and they were very nearly naked. She was so beautiful, and Ron couldn’t believe she was allowing him to see touch and taste so much of her. Things continued to escalate and before he knew it they were at the precipice of having sex.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” said Ron, as he was close to entering her.

“We did all the ‘necessary prep-work,’” she said, giving him a naughty smile that made his mind zoom to just what all they did to make her quite satisfied. The way her body had quivered had almost been his undoing. “Just go easy and it won’t hurt.”

“But first times… They always say it hurts a girl- a woman- the first time she-” Ron cut himself off, somehow unable to say anything more, as he was suddenly embarrassed.

“Well it… It won’t be my first time,” Hermione said, biting her lip and looking away. Ron stilled. What had been so special, tender and beautiful now felt uncertain and brittle. Ron rolled off of her to take in the information.

He turned away from her and sat on the edge of the bed, looking at his knees. He had thought they were both doing this for the first time.

“Ron?”

“Yeah… Yeah… Give me a moment…” He said trying not to sound sharp or feel hurt.

Hermione slid beside him, still looking so beautiful, and put a soothing hand on his arm.

“Please say something.”

“I just… I dunno what to say…”

“It was only one time, and it didn’t mean anything, Ron. It really didn’t.”

Ron let out a sigh and covered his face with his hands a moment. He felt so hollow inside right now, and oddly embarrassed.

“Did you and Lavender not–?”

“No.” He hadn’t really been saving himself for Hermione, as romantic as the notion was to him. Did he have a right to feel hurt? Given the chance, would he have had sex with someone else? If Lavender had offered, would he have been able to resist?

He just hadn’t had sex. He hadn’t expected Hermione to ‘save herself’ for him, exactly, but he’d sure not wanted to think about anyone else getting to touch her and love her like he wanted to. He knew he should be incensed or jealous, or maybe even hurt- but oddly enough he wasn’t. He was just shocked more than anything. And embarrassed that he was a wilting virgin and she was finding out this way.

He heard a sniffle beside him, and turned to see big tears working their way down Hermione’s face. She got up from the bed and started to gather her clothes to her, looking so vulnerable it made his heart clench.

“What are you doing?” he quietly asked, stilling her hand as she reached across him to pull her shirt from his nightstand.

“I j-just assumed you’d, you’d not want me to stay… You can’t even look at me!” she said, rubbing at her eyes and scrambling to put her bra on.

“I can’t stop looking at you, Hermione. Kindof always been an issue for me,” he said with a small lopsided smile.

“But… But I’m. You thought I was–”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ron said cutting her off, and bringing her to stand in front of him. “You love me, right?”

“Of course I do!” she let out.

“Then what does it matter? I love you back, and in the scheme of things… It’s really not that important. I mean, we nearly died about a hundred times in the last year. This is just… not really important. I’m not thrilled or anything, and I feel like a right tosser, but… I can’t change the past, and I don’t want to pull another Lavender situation to even the playing field… I just want you.”

“I want you too! So much,” she said, hands still holding her clothes in front of her. “Are you sure you’re okay with this though? I mean-”

“Just cause it doesn’t matter, doesn’t mean I want to talk about it.”

Hermione nodded, though she looked pained at not being able to talk something to death. Her brows where drawn together and she looked so uncertain.

“How about,” Ron said, standing from the bed. “You and I get dressed and we finish off that tin of biscuits I have downstairs. Who knows. Maybe we’ll end up back in bed after?”

It took some convincing, but she finally acquiesced and let him ply her with some sweets, and sweet talk to boot. She was looking so deflated and unsure of herself it made him feel a sod for even having reacted at all. At one point, he would have been so hurt and vindictive about it. He would have really made it into an issue, but really, there was no point in doing that. It’d do nothing but hurt them both, and he’d well learned his lesson from sixth year and the war. He’d let jealousy drive a wedge between him and Hermione before, and he’d be damned if he’d let it happen again. There was no point in dallying about with hurt feelings and petty jealousies. They’d survived so much, and he wasn’t going to throw all of what they had built away. She was beautiful, smart, kind - and she wanted him of all the blokes in the world. Loved him.

Later that night he was no longer a virgin anymore, and he and Hermione continued to learn each other’s bodies and wants and needs in ways no one else could ever know. They had the rest of their lives to make a million memories, and he wasn’t going to waste a moment of it.

To me, after EVERYTHING they’ve gone through- I honestly think Ron would handle this fairly maturely. He’s done with all that bullsh!t from before, and even during, the war. He’s gained so much heartache and perspective at this point that this is just so small potatoes. (Frankly, I think it should ALWAYS be considered nothing important because the concept of virginity being important and romanticized I find problematic, but that’s a long-ass speech for another day.) And as logical and confident as Hermione is, I think would be insecure about it at first as she’s not confident when it comes to feeling wanted, loved, and admired romantically- and she would definitely be self-judgmental about it. But anyways- there ya go, anon! Not some giant angsty story- but rather just an awkward moment between them that they get over relatively quickly- because life is too short.

[reflectingiridescent]

I am so glad you made this post.

Because up until this point, no one has really held Sophie accountable at all. And that is very important to the central issues of Leverage: Redemption this season.

(VERY long post under cut)

#1: "She's Sophie Devereaux." (Parker)/"They're used to seeing me a certain way, as Sophie Devereaux." (Sophie)

Bluntly put, the team isn't used to her not having this kind of handle on herself and other people.

That was one of her superpowers in the og series, right? She could handle her problems, even leave, and still have a backup plan in place because Nate was really not okay, and she could take that time and space for herself but still be able to come back. She even sends someone she trusts to stand in for her.

(I argue that it is end s2 and only then when she earns back Eliot's trust, but that's for another post.)

I assume that's why it took several months of her not returning their calls for them to reach out to her. You can see that they try conventional ways of connecting to her (food, drink, talking), and it doesn't work. And they know that. That's why they nudge her back into cons. It worked for Nate. And to some degree, this would be the way they would go if they needed to heal. Parker and Hardison canonically can't imagine retiring. Eliot over and over affirms that getting back in the game/on the bike of crime/etc can help. At the end of s5, Nate's like...Sophie are you really sure you don't want to act anymore?

Hell, even Harry who knows Sophie for less than a month sees that she's happier on the con than doing whatever she was doing before.

But if you're used to Mom having everything under control, it's going to take quite a bit to realize she's really having problems. Because as she indirectly tells her kitchen in the Redemption pilot, she was basically feeling safe and stable for the first time in her life. Then the rug gets pulled out from under her.

But Sophie's very self-aware. During The Tower Job (so pretty early on), Sophie does suggest taking Harry off the job, because she's pissed that he compromised everyone. The team decides to keep him. Sophie gives him shit that time and every time he withholds information from them, makes it clear that they're down with his redemption journey but do not work for him (she essentially asserts that Harry is not Nate, which is pertinent to this point and to point #2, which I make below), but it becomes repetitive as the season goes on.

(Aside: Harry really never sees how up and leaving the way he did in the finale, without telling anyone anything, could be seen as a betrayal? Like by that point, he just assumes everyone's going to be fine with it. And I think about that a lot.)

Sophie's concern...does show good judgment but...I think at this point is still coming from a place of grief. The thought of losing anyone else in her family is terrifying to her specifically for that reason. She still sees her leader job as temporary.

And Harry's such a puppy dog (look, I admit I see him this way too) that he just kind of takes the criticism...until he does it again. Because where Nate's cardinal sin was pride based in self-righteousness/wrath (og series emphasized the hubris...later og seasons and Redemption emphasize his wrath), Harry's is guilt that turns in on itself, becomes selfish. (I believe this is why Sophie jumps to "injured pride" first while she's taking Harry to task for leaving with no warning and going into RIZ...like, he should have at least told them what he was going to try to do. And Sophie is used to the pride narrative.)

As far as the team's concerned, Sophie's handling it. Everyone just kind of takes that for granted because that's what Sophie does - she handles people like Harry. Team newbies (but not Breanna, because they explicitly name Parker as mentor).

Parker stops Eliot from going in to help Sophie in the Redemption pilot because "She's Sophie Devereaux." But Sophie directly contradicts that statement at the end of the season. She's not in that Lancer/Dragon role here...because she's become the leader. Like op is saying - she can't be both.

So maybe Sophie Devereaux is living her third life now...or second and a half...Sophie's a phoenix (this ties into elemental thoughts I have about The Card Game Job). She rises from the ashes over and over and over...and flies.

#2: "Nate never settled for nice."/"We do what my Nate would do."/"I'm not just doing it for you. I'm doing it for Nate, also."

Here's what Nate does in the og series pilot: he recruits criminals (or, people opposite to his moral compass at the time, at least as far as he's willing to admit) and teaches them how to be good. They're not actively looking to become good - they join out of a need for revenge, and Sophie joins half out of curiosity and half out of her love for Nate. And it goes from there.

And Sophie in Redemption...recruits someone who has created a mess by acting opposite to her moral compass, who has the potential to be good, and who manages to surprise her during his sad attempt at a theft.

Coincidence? Maybe. Harry makes it easier to get to Maxwell, but we know that Sophie has a knack for getting things done in a way that also serves her. I'd argue she even does it instinctively.

In this case, it kind of is helpful, because the team can only reach her so far into her grief. They know enough to know that they need to open the door for her to help herself and go from there. Remember that in the og series, everyone went to Sophie, and Sophie would go to Nate. And when she would go to Nate, she still held everything close to her chest. Eliot, Parker, and Hardison don't have as much experience in this department.

But also, they accept Harry without reservation, because as they have done before, they do it for her. For Sophie.

There's some tension between Eliot and Sophie as well as Hardison in Sophie in the two-part pilot because they kind of are looking for her to react well to getting back in the game, and while she does feel "exhilarated", she points out that she's not super sure if it's just her getting caught up in the past. She points out several times that it's temporary, even Harry.

And she shows quite a bit of self-awareness in being worried about her coping mechanisms. As we see in the og series, Sophie has serious problems getting caught up in the past, getting caught up in past personas. She works through these issues and spends a lot of time on them. When she and Nate finally got their shit together, he served as her tether just as she served as his compass. There was always going to be tension between them, but it was equal and going in opposite directions. Kept them still. (And also they'd both done a lot of work on themselves.)

It kills me a little bit that she goes through nearly 8 months of work with the team, and it's really not until that last infiltration and plan with RIZ that Sophie realizes that this is where she belongs. Because that's how long it takes her to stop trying to be Nate (because Nate, as said, had his pitfalls) and think like Nate, takes what she's learned and who she is, and she makes it her own. She stops using the cons to feel close to him, and by doing that, she comes closer to herself and is able to move forward.

From my personal experience with grief, there's no way to speed that up. This was as fast as that could happen. There's no way she would have been able to work her grief out in this manner without the support of her family serving as check and balance for her.

And make no mistake - that last con shows flashes of Nate-like ruthlessness, Nate-style thinking, but the theatricality of it all? That's all her. We see flashes of her style/how she makes cons her own arguably as early as the og series.

#3: "I think you should go back to calling the shots. This is my grand finale." (Sophie)/"And run the team." (Parker)

Sophie has two tied-in arcs in Redemption: processing her grief and becoming the leader of her family/crew. Parker has two arcs too: developing as Breanna's mentor and rediscovering her passion...which I think are both accomplished by becoming a lancer/dragon to Sophie.

It's a bit weird, right, because it looks like a demotion. Except she already has a huge job that we don't see offscreen (much like Hardison and Eliot do), and there are echoes of her original character arc in the way she talks about Breanna with Hardison. Parker's who og series arc was about becoming a mastermind and figuring out how to interact with the world in a way that didn't compromise who she was (because there's nothing wrong with her).

But we see shadows of lingering insecurity when she talks to Hardison about Breanna. Breanna has a birth certificate. Parker doesn't see herself as a mentor though the other international teams do. She still sees herself as a little too messed up for that.

A really common way of learning stuff is "see one, do one, teach one". Parker's been trained. She's been doing the job of overseeing stuff. Now she's learning how to help other people grow, in a way that's conscious for her. And just as she acknowledges that Breanna teaches her just as she teaches Breanna, Sophie and Parker reaffirm (because as Sophie points out, Parker's always been helping Sophie - Parker just didn't know it) that Parker's grown personally & professionally and is going to teach Sophie things sometimes.

Because after this exchange, when they get Harry back, they turn to Sophie for the plan, and Sophie defers to Parker - Sophie's screwed up and that seems to hammer home that this is her least con. But Parker is still expecting Sophie to take the lead.

We never explicitly see that happen, but narratively, it does look like after the initial setback, she does, or at the very least there's some serious collaboration between everyone including Sophie to make that last plan work. Parker likes working with Sophie, always has. In a parallel to what Sophie tells Harry, Sophie in her own way needs to ask Parker for help.

Sophie and Parker's friction is never going to be explosive as Sophie and Nate's was because they're more mature, more easily acknowledge an equal exchange of power, and just in general lack the baggage Sophie and Nate had. Also their mission as a team has shifted. But I think the balance between them has been set up so beautifully and has a lot of room to grow. And I love how, once again, they're going to grow each other.

#i can't stop thinking about this scene and sophie's reaction here #because parker's words are such a physical attack that sophie jerks back and freezes #she stops listening to the conversation around her as she processes and comes back with that huge breath #and i think there are a lot of things sophie realizes in this moment #she's always known that the others would accept too much from nate #that it was her responsibility to draw the lines because they just wouldn't to their own detriment #that it was her role to be the balance between letting nate pull his strings #and keep the team safe by pulling them all back before things could get truly dangerous #and i think there are a few reasons parker's words hurt and surprise her so much #first it's a wake-up call of her own self-involvement #of how focused she's been on her own grief and trying to find some way to live with it and maybe even move on #and for someone as caring and empathetic as sophie i think it hurts a lot to realize that she has let her family down in a way she never would have before #i also think that - as much as she loved nate - there is something very hurtful about the implication that she is similar to nate in this way #nate had his virtues but the way he treated the team was very rarely one of them #he was a great mastermind but sophie is not a mastermind the way he was #she doesn't manipulate she doesn't withhold she doesn't push them away #and this realization that she might be making the same mistakes with the family that he made is awful #but even worse than all of that? sophie had /always/ been the one they could talk to #the one that all of them - but especially parker! - could confide in and trust #and that didn't happen #no one on the team mentioned these concerns to her and it cost them #could have cost them so badly had harry truly betrayed the team #and i think it does make her think of her early mistakes with the team #when her self-involvement - her selfishness - got parker and hardison captured #cost her the trust she had been building in the team #/especially/ with eliot whose trust had been so hard to win and even harder to win back #when she left the team for months on a journey of self-discovery #leaving the team ill-equipped to deal with nate's relapse #staying away long enough that she was too late to do anything to prevent nate's injury and arrest #but as painful as all of this is #i think this was such an important realization for sophie to have before she decides to stay #(maybe even a reason she does decide to stay in the end) #and a very important thing for /parker/ to say before she hands over the mastermind role officially #because sophie loves her family and loves being a team with them and values them all #but she /has/ been using them a little #as she tells hardison at the beginning of the season she finds little handholds in the past #and reuniting with the team and playing at the way it had been was making her feel better #and that's ok to an extent but it can't be what she relies on #things have changed for her and for each of her family and for the team as a whole #she isn't nate - doesn't want to be nate - and she can't be exactly who she used to be #she can't be both a mastermind and a compass #sophie has to go into fully accepting the mastermind role with her eyes open #with the knowledge that she either needs to hold herself accountable #or find someone who will do that for her #and i think it's very important that parker saw her go through this #that while sophie has this moment parker also tunes out the conversation and just /watches/ her #that she saw sophie work through it and really acknowledge what it means to be a mastermind #even if - maybe especially if - they are going to do it different from the way nate did #parker has had 9 years to figure out her own style #to figure out /how/ she wasn't going to be nate #(because while she also loved him too - and maybe even understood somethings about his masterminding that even sophie didn't #there was plenty she disagreed with and would not repeat) #9 years

to figure out her own boundaries #and how and when to rely on hardison and eliot #sophie hasn't had that yet #this first year was just about sophie treading water and trying to bring herself back from the numbness of her grief #and while parker could give her some space to settle back into the life #parker /is/ in charge #she is the one responsible for 12 teams of people #and i don't think she would have been comfortable with sophie deciding to stay if they hadn't worked this out first