#and now hes watching ego's speech. he's torturing me

[marcsnuffy]

Very distracted by the fact that my classmate is watching blue lock right behind me

[hanako-san]

Hello, although I don't like Teru, I would like to know what you think he was implying about him thinking that the time keepers let himself get lost in the battle against Tsukasa? Do you think this is true?P.S: I have the impression that with each chapter we have seen more and more of Teru's horrible personality (in my opinion) the way he reacted to Akane on the ground just shows how he doesn't care, at least Hanako intervened Now who is the person who doesn't care about other people's lives 🧐

Hello. It's really nice to know that there are more people who don't like him. My feelings are bigger in the negative sense, I hate him.

Unfortunately, I thought about it myself. It was too easy and they let him do something like that, but when it came to Amane and his actions, they had no problem showing their outrage at what he did and taking him to court in the earlier chapters? Here Tsukasa confesses and then does something like this and they don't react? either they will react somehow or as teru says, which I think if it comes true, they are idiots.

His personality is actually horrible and more horrible. I have the same feeling. His reaction was nothing! He just watched and Amane and nene were in shock, then he watched calmly as if he didn't care. He was unmoved. Which confirms my old thoughts since the chapter with the appearance of Mitsuba. When Tsukasa does something he doesn't appear, but when Amane does something teru is the first and says his pseudo-moralizing speech. My second confirmation was from p.p. arc. that he didn't appear when Tsukasa trapped everyone in the artificial world. He smiled at other girls instead of acting, but behind it was Tsukasa, not Amane, that's the difference.

I don't believe he can't break free. If it was Amane, he wouldn't have attacked Akane again, and he would have been lying on the ground with foot on his chest. And if he really can't, does that mean that minamoto teru isn't that powerful? is he weak and pathetic?Wow! Shock!

He never cared about people. He just loves to kill. He is a pure sociopath and a narcissist. He loves attention and the way people praise and admire him, if it weren't for his 'feelings' for Aoi, he wouldn't react.

I didn't expect anything else from him. He loves attention, he triggers girls' reactions so that they can admire how 'awesome' he is. I really don't care that he didn't have a childhood, that he had to fight these supernaturals. He's just pathetic blaming them but not his old man who forced him to do this which makes him a pathetic and weak human. I don't feel sorry for him at all because he admitted that he loves to kill with satisfaction and happiness on his face.

He wanted to be a hero for his princess and brother + he has great satisfaction in killing. He's just a minamoto.His ancestors also had no problems torturing girls and sacrificing them. They were partying and thinking about their next victim at that time. He is the same and even worse, because he moralized Amane and he does it himself and it's even worse because he really likes it. teru can because he's a minamoto, right? Amane is the 'bad guy' cause is supernatural. teru also is hypocrite.

There is no such thing as a "good minamoto" They were made heroes, but in reality they are executioners. teru is the good heir of famiIy

i'm glad that my thoughts about him are starting to be confirmed and he's exceeding my expectations. He is so hungry for attention, artificial admiration, that he can cause it himself and it boosts his ego, but in reality he is a pathetic, weak person.

When I looked at his photo in chapter 1 , I knew he was fake, and it was the same with yashiro's fleshback.I just felt like I wouldn't like him and there was something wrong with him, and I was right.teru failed to convince me from the very beginning.

This part amuses me too. Akane made him a savior of people from these 'evil' supernatural creatures, and he doesn't really care about people, he only performs his duties with great satisfaction. teru is not a hero, and he does it because he likes killing supernaturals. it gives him a lot of joy.

A person who pretends to be a hero but doesn't really care about people and does it for his own gain is no different than murderers and is worse because the person you are supposed to trust but actually protects people out of duty makes him a fake. , untrustworthy and no different from those evil supernatural ones that I hear about from his mouth all the time, and it gives him satisfaction. teru is just a hypocrite and a murderer,sociopath

[andromedaexists]

Writeblr Positivity Tag

I was tagged by the amazing @betweenthetimeandsound! Thank you!

What motivates you to write?

My friends! Every single person who has told me that they want to see Call Me Icarus come to life motivates me. Every time I get a message from Feral or Crypt or Nats or Creme or anyone that tells me that they love the characters I create and the stories I tell motivates me to keep writing.

A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not, maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them):

ooooh there's a few pieces that I'm really proud of. If I had to choose just one there's this specific line in Incorrect Eyes that really does not make sense out of context, but I feel like I did a damn good job of portraying panic and anxiety in it (i bolded it so it will stand out):

My phone was always going off, messages from teammates, friends, family that I just couldn’t answer. Didn’t know how to answer. “Are you okay?” I didn’t know, I couldn’t feel anything other than numbness and fear. “Where have you been?” Hiding. Hiding and working and sinking further into the pit of despair and paranoia. “Your friends are wondering where you are.” I wondered that too, where was I? What was I doing? What were these words around me? Why were there eyes everywhere? I didn’t know what to do, I felt like I lost my mind. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe without being watched. I needed to escape and I did not know how.

Which OC makes you smile every time you think/ talk about them and what are they like?

Icarus! I grin so big when I talk about him!! He is a rat bastard and I have so so so much fun torturing him!

Like, I literally light up when I get to infodump about him to people, he is a special interest of mine at this point. He is an emotionally constipated piece of shit that refuses to get over his dual god and inferiority complexes and he is my everything

What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

I really enjoy putting things together. Like, you just finished all your plotting and writing and light revisions, time to run over it one time from front to back and put everything together. That's what I like the most

What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

hhhhhhh that's a question. I'm actually feeling pretty shit about my writing right now, but if I had to choose I think I'm pretty darn good at descriptions. Like, I can absolutely get you put into a room down to the smell of that room and the dingy off-white stain in the corner lol

What is something in the writeblr community that is most enjoyable?

I really enjoy the people. Like, the tag games come and go, the questions are more off than on, but the people? We are always here and always sharing parts of ourselves and out writing. Everytime @cream-and-tea's snippets of Pallas cross my dash I get giddy, I love seeing @isherwoodj's work (especially when Doc is involved) too! I just love the community and the friends I've made, if that makes sense

A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Scrivener for sure, like being able to organize my WIP exactly how I want it to be organized and not have to deal with a huge ass document is amazing! I also love that I can very easy rearrange the order of things and have multiple drafts open without having to have multiple instances of a program open!

I also heavily rely on speech to text, I have a bad habit of small typos that most programs wont catch (i.e. my instead of me, by instead of be type stuff) The only way I've found to reliably catch these is through speech to text since my eyes will just jump right over them!

A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

I really love incorporating mythology into my worldbuilding. It doesn't matter what my WIP is, it will have mythological significance. It's obvious to see in CMI, but it really shines in Desecrate. A lot of things in that WIP have heavy mythological significance (such as the characters names, Christian "Kit" Amadeus Michaels and Adonai)

What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

Take care of yourself, there cannot be a book written by you without you.

Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters:

ooohhhh there's so many!!

Let's start with the Shit Show: @lockejhaven @365runesoftheamalgamations @ghost-town-story @crypticcodexcreations @smol-feralgremlin @inkspellangel and @authoralexharvey!

There's also @cream-and-tea @isherwoodj @flowerprose @howlingbreeze @cljordan-imperium and writingpotato (who left us, RIP we love you) here on tumblr!

And some new mentions that I found on twitter who have shown a lot of love for me so far: Clanky, Doom (who is here @doom-inique-writes hi doom!), Kaye (also here, hi @marsadler!!!), Tyler, Em, Gabe, and @wickedwitchwritesstuff!!!

There are so many more, but I love each and every one of you so so much and only have so much room to write people here <3

As far as tagging to do this, I think I've tagged enough people lmaooo, anyone who wants to answer these questions is more than free to!!

[natsukitakama]

Aww, you're so sweet!🤍 It's ok, I understand you, I have classes too so I understant that writing can take time. Well then, if it's ok, could you please write smth for Gojo x sorcerer s/o? It can be really anything - like their everyday life, how they going on a missions together, some fluffy or angsty stuff, literally anything. Hope you're ok with this req and I'm not making it hard for you since it's not smth specified😅

Author note : Hi there ♡ than you for requesting ! And also for understanding haha. It took me more times than expected because I had to read a little bit and watch again (not that it bothers me lmao). Your request is absolutely fine, I actually don’t mind when things is general it gives me more room for manoeuvre you know ?  

Warning : No spoiler since I’m still an anime only for now / Fluffy / Slight nsfw / some swear too I apologize 

Masterlist 

I already said it on my previous request but being a sorcerer means Gojo might be « distant » with you. Not that he didn’t find you attractive or enjoy you being around him (he craves for attention). But yes at first he doubted that you were interested on him because of him (he knows he is difficult to live with) or because of his position, money etc. But it doesn’t mean he won’t date a sorcerer. 

Times after times when you two became not only lover but friends, when he realized that you didn’t give a damn as much as him, when it came to sorcerer’s world. When he realized that you wanted to change it as much as he wanted too, I’m not saying that he would give you his heart but he will start to see you not just because he appreciates you but as a person. 

And that’s how he started to fall in love. 

Now being in relationship with you got his good point, you can understand (or at least got an idea) of his struggle as the strongest sorcerer, you can go on mission with him so it means you could spend time with him, both you can train together, he would be more confident too in the idea that you’re able to defend yourself (even if he would never let anyone curse put a finger on you, they would be dead before thinking about it). 

Before starting just a warning : not because you’re sorcerer mean he acte more like a grown up, no just give up on this he is bubbly and would remain the same, also he is possessive and hella protective no matter if you can defend yourself. 

That being said, how its like to date him as a sorcerer ? 

First, if you’re member of clan that mean both of you is supposed to go into the usual meeting, but since you’re dating him it also means that not only him but you would be late. It’s good thing that you didn’t give a damn (even if you hated getting late). So after getting scold for being late, you would assist on the meeting and well, one advise just don’t sit close to Gojo. He hates those meeting, he got him nervous, it’s source of stress for him so it needs something to relieve. That thing is you. 

It means that yeah he would tease you during the whole speech, sometimes he would tickle you, sometimes he would whisper dirty things on your and would lick it slightly, mentioned how he want to just throw you in the center and just fuck you roughly at least both you would be here for something, sometimes he went as far as to touch you and I’m not talking about him grabbing your hands : he would stroke your ass if he can have an access on it, he would stroke your thigh anything just to flustered you. He loves meeting because he knows he has you to keep him entertaining. 

If you’re not a member, he might insist on taking you with him since you’re still a part of the sorcerer society. Not matter what people would say, he doesn’t give a damn, if he says you’ll be here with him, you would. Exception, if you told him you don’t want to, or if you’re busy with something he won’t push it will whine and except you to give him extra attention and foods for letting him alone. During time like this he would sext you during the whole meeting he has no chill and no one would dare say something, he knows that and is not afraid to take avantage of it. 

When it came to you daily routine, do not expect anything out of ordinary. I mean if you can you would share a breakfast together, shower together (100% end up with your chest against the wall while he is having his fun with you) but then you would have to either go in a mission together or he would go for his teacher duties while you would leave for you own activity. Sometimes, you wake up with him not being here anymore cause he had to leave earlier for a mission, expect something like a breakfast ready for you or at least a little word on his bedside to apologize (also even if he is on mission, he would easily call you while fighting a cursed because he missed you, also whines a lot). 

When you two leave for a mission, there isn’t much to do I mean if you can manage the curse Satoru would gladly let you do your job while getting a little bit too excited because you’re way too hot, too badass (yeah he is like your number 1 cheerleader), if you’re taking too much time he would whine and complain though. Mostly because he wants you to do it quickly so you could spend the rest of the day cuddling because obviously he would come back with you at the Tokyo school once he is satisfied with the time you two spent together 

So if you’re taking too much time he would just end this like with a snap of his finger (that mother..) and while you’ll be angry at him for taking care of your business, he would just throw you on his shoulder while patting your ass and laughing at the same. 

Then you two would spend quality time together, having lunch, chilling together (movie, even taking a nap together) 

And then Satoru would be scold for taking way to much time on « easy » case which obviously he couldn’t care less, again he is Satoru Gojo what possibly could the old man (except getting on his never ?). 

Do not take me wrong he is afraid of being scold by the principal and you, especially getting scold by you. Cause it means no Mochi and Cuddle for Satoru, and he couldn’t tolerate that (deprive him from his precious Mochi what kind of torture is that ?). But then he would find a way to your sweet spot, one stroke from your cheeks, a little pout of him, and a little complain about how little time you two could spent together because of your job and so yeah he just managed time on his own. 

How could you be angry against him ? He knows he is cute and your weak for his puppy eyes 

But that’s is when you two could spend mission together, obviously Gojo is way more busier that you (still a teacher and a sorcerer) so he tends to outside more often than you even thought you’re pretty busy yourself. Except a lot, of chitchatting at worst time. I swear he knows when you’re currently struggling to hold your domain expansion or your spell and this is when he decided to text you about a video he saw on YouTube that make him laugh. And if you’re not answering at him, he calls you. 

Yes. You’re bleeding the shit out of you but that fucker is upset because he didn’t have enough attention from you he’ll FaceTime you at the worst moment.

Although sometimes when got bored during a mission he would flirt with you. It’s the rule. He doesn’t care that they are plenty of cursed around you, you’re hot and he wants attention

*cough cough*  sorry about that 

Sometimes when you got hurt during a mission and unfortunately Gojo wasn’t there to take care of that damn curse; he is getting really pissed. He won’t show it but everything can feel it, the tension is here all around him, everyone could feel so pressure whenever something happened to you. 

He barely left your bed even though you’ve been healed by Shoko, he won’t, he insists on watching you just in case. Will hold your hand during your healing process. After your accident, good luck cause he would NEVER let you on your own. Going to the bathroom ? He is right behind the door waiting for you, Going for some shopping he didn’t got money for nothing, don’t ever think about leaving for a mission either him or Nanami (cause he would bother him until Nanami decided that yes he would watch you just to be sure) would be their by your side. 

You mean everything for him. 

At some points, he would talk to you about his whole projet, about how he is about to kick those old prick out of the system and expect you to be by his side too (which won’t be too difficult considering most of them are ass***) 

Also, if students were kinda suspicious about you (like who could even be healthy enough to date Gojo ?) they quickly understand why Gojo loves you so much to the point both of you became their parent. 

So sometimes you’ll be there to take care of their lesson since Gojo in his good fashion way decided to be late or just leave to buy a new mocchi. You’re kinda became Gojo-sensei 2.0 

Everyone loves you and when Gojo appears to finally be the teacher he is, they all whine about missing you. Later than day he would whine while being on your arm, about how you stole his students from you. 

You didn’t you were just a better teacher than him but he is not ready for that conversation. So instead, you just stroke his hair telling him how wonderful he is, about how obviously everyone loves him they’re just shy about it. Stroke his ego and he won’t even be concerned about his lack of skills. 

[undertakermybeloved]

As a person who experiences OSDD 1b, I've always headcanoned the Undertaker to have the same disorder. The way he so quickly switches between personas reminded me of how I experience my own disorder, and I decided to write this on it. Please note that is is not reflective of all disassociative disorders, and is based off of my own experiences!

Rating: Mature, 14+

Warnings: Mentions of death and murder, minor mentions of necromancy, necrophilia and sex

I wasn’t always like this. At first I didn’t even know. It seemed to happen so quickly, when really it was a slower process than trying to get your scythe registered with dispatch. 

Dispatch.

That's what caused this. It's all dispatches fault, of course. It's always their fault.

    I am the Undertaker. I’m sure you’ve heard of me. If that doesn’t ring a bell, maybe the name Legendary Death does. The most famous reaper to ever exist, loved by all and hunted by his own admiriers. Once a stoic man, unsympathetic, unloving, unattached. Wherever did he go? There is no possible way me, the kooky old mortician with a necrophelia problem, could ever be the same person who reaped Marie Antoinette and judged the soul of Robin Hood. Well, that would be because I’m not.. Partially.

    My body was indeed the vessel that completed those tasks, but I was not the one orchestrating them. I was in the back seat, an observer of my own life. I lived like that for so long, I didn’t even realize it was out of the ordinary. It was like sleepwalking. I did not control my own movements, did not hear my own thoughts, and did not speak my own words. Because they weren’t mine. They were Adriens.

    At least, that is what I have come to call him. I know what you’re thinking, and it is indeed ‘my’ old name, but I cannot seem to associate myself with it. My name is the Undertaker, that is who I am. Adrien is no longer me. A part of me, yes, just as much as I am a part of him.

    We are split. Two pieces of a whole being, separated into two seperate conciousnesses, to complete two separate jobs. 

    Being a reaper is a horribly taxing occupation. You commit suicide and are now forced to live forever for your horrible crime against the universe, against the very God all humans revere so. Your punishment is an immortal soul, and a job where you are forced to watch others finally achieve the peace you never good. It truly is the most clever and sinister punishment. 

    Being one of these criminals for over a thousand years, (I don’t care enough to keep track of the exact number,) I may be one of the oldest reapers who has not yet been forced into a medical coma to keep them out of the way, despite my frequent infringements against Shinigami rule. 

    Anyhow, I’m getting side tracked. Back to the point.

    Adrien. While that used to be my name, it is no longer me. I had to train myself as a reaper, not only physically but emotionally as well. Do not be sympathetic, do not become attached. Simply do your job and move on. But it takes a toll on one to, every day, watch the sick and the healthy, the old and the young, the rich and the poor, all laying upon their deathbeds. Especially the children. The poor, crying children. One cannot simply watch them sob as you take their soul and not feel some sort of remorse for the action. So, I put up an act. Played the part of an emotionless, stoic man long enough for my conscious to split. There was the reaper, the one who could handle seeing the dead and the dying, the one who didn’t experience the gut wrenching emotional grief.

    And then there was me. The weak one.

Weak. 

Too weak to do my own damn job, to the point I managed to split myself in two. A mirror image of myself, the same but better, better at his job, better at interacting, simply better. 

    I sat in the back for hundreds of years, stuffed away and watching my body be puppetted by one who was not me. I watched myself murder, I watched myself make love, but I was never there. I wondered sometimes, why did I feel like I was no longer in control? Well, it is simply because I wasn’t.

    It was like watching a movie where you play the main character. You see them, and it looks like you, but it isn’t. The way they act, talk, and even just carry themself is so drastically different from your own mannerisms that you can scarcely believe it is you who you are seeing.

    When I was finally in control again, it felt like I had just been saved from drowning. It was just a second, such a minor slip up of my counterpart, but it was long enough for me to realize I wasn’t alone, and had not been for longer than I’d ever known.

    That was when I left. I forced myself into control, and I had to make sure everyone knew I was no longer me. 

    One extravagant show of mass genocide later, I was free. I was free. Free from my own alter ego, free from the association, free from my punishment. Despite being part of the undead, I had never felt so alive.

    I traveled everywhere, released everything that had been hidden away in my own body for so long. Finally, I was the one to murder, I was the one to make love, I was the one to simply experience. It was me. 

    Eventually, I became weary of traveling the world. I was free enough. Free to control my own body, and that was all I needed. 

    I settled down, found a little shop on the market for cheap and took up mortuary studies.

    After my life as a reaper, most would think I’d prefer to stay away from death, but rather it brought me comfort, and continues to bring me comfort to this day. No longer having to watch people as they die, I am able to deal with them while already dead. And that is the difference between me, the Undertaker, and my own frgament, Adrien. 

    Being split like this for so long, the line between myself and Adrien is distinct and rather hard to miss. However, there are times where the line blurs, where we mix and entertwine into some sort of amalgamation pretending to be what we once were. The time on the Campania was where the line was blurred the most, to the point where there was hardly any line anymore. It felt like our subconscious was desperately trying to force us back together, despite being separated for much too long for such a thing to be even considered as a simple possibility. 

    Raising the dead was a combined effort between the both of us. Both of our anguish and grief, anger and despair, and sheer desperation to be one again came out in the form of necromancy. That is why we are better apart. The two of us are simply too different, too separate, by now to be able to merge without only causing problems.

    Being together again- or, as together as we could be- felt odd. I was both in and out of control at the same time. I could instruct our body to move, but I was only half there, and it was the same for Adrien as well. We were in control, but only partially. Our movements and speech wound together and created new movements and sentences, a new method of fighting, a new way of speaking. I’m surprised we weren't both a mess, being in control at the same time, but I suppose the half-assed merge was either to thank or to blame for that. We split again afterwards, which did not come as a surprise, and it was far from as dramatic as the first time. Trying to put us back together again is like cutting an apple in half, then carmelizing half of it and putting the other half in a pie, and trying to put the pieces back together once it's done. It simply doesn’t work, and it's much easier, more pleasant and more convenient to enjoy the two separately. 

    I don’t have much recollection of what it felt like to be whole, but it doesn’t bother me too much any more. Like I’ve said many times, and like I’ve come to realize after many years, is that we are simply better separate.

    Dispatch most likely already has a theory about my split personality. They always seem to know more about their reapers than the reapers know about themselves, and despite being retired, that rule remains the same for me. While I consistently refuse their ‘offers’ of a psych evaluation, (their offers being closer to not so gentle insisting and persuasion simply to have me in captivity,) they’re probably going to take me in by force eventually. I am old, after all. About a thousand something, I don’t care to remember. I can’t fight of these young, energetic reapers forever. They’ll reign me in, most likely sooner rather than later, and quite frankly I’m not particularly inclined to care what they do with me once they have me. Torture, questioning, what have you, I don’t much mind. They’re going to do what they please with me, whether I like it or not. If there's just one think I know about dispatch, it's that they always get their way.

    Oh well. If they somehow find a way to kill me, they’ll be doing me a favor. Maybe I’ll have my own body in the afterlife.

[marvel-m-lee]

Squirmy Tony •Part 2- M-Verse•

Warnings: Medications, small mentions of blood, no gore dw x

Fandom: Marvel

●○●This is a Tickle Fic Story●○●

-M-Verse may also include Gore in some chapters-

-

Steve sat at the window in the Lab while Tony worked. Slight blush on his face from when Rogers had tickled him to hell but he tried to focus.

Steve was drawing in the little A5 pad Tony had handed him, he watched the stars outside and tried not to worry about the girl whom he had saved hours prior. He began to focus on Tony, watching his every move. Once he had noticed his pattern and his main move, he began sketching the philanthropist.

He looked at the little details, like the way his hair was a littke greasy and messed up, the tiny drops of sweat and the way his eyes focused on his work. Moving his eyes from the paper to his friend seemed comforting, the billionaire may be a genius but he absolutely sucked at comforting, so it was nice that he could be from afar.

Steve drew a little version of Tony, leaning over his desk and focusing on one of the IronMan helmets. After a while Steve placed on the finishing touches and smiled between his friebs and his art.

"You alright there Roger's?" Tony asked, still working on his helmet.

"Much better, thanks Tony" Steve smiled at Stark and then turned back to his drawing to add a few more shading detail. Unknowing to Steve, Tony could and always could see Steve in his visual perversion, so Tony saw the smile and continued to smile back at himself with a smirk.

Stark coughed to cover it up and then stood tall, turning to see his Super Soilder friend.

"So what did you draw in the end?" He asked walking over.

"Hmm? Oh nothing too great. Just some trash" Steve chuckled to himself, soon noticing the playboy walk over to him to get a glimpse of the art.

"So you gonna show me?" Tony asked impatiently, leaning his head to the side. Steve then looked back and forth of his friend and drawing. He shrugged and turned it around, sure Tony would get annoyed at him for calling him trash.

"Oh damn Rogers, that's pretty good" He seemed surprised, he knew the super solider enjoyed drawing but he hadn't expected him to do so well.

"Yeah, but its such a trashy model" Steve sighed, silently chuckling to himself as he got up. Tony gasped, placing a hand on his heart and stepping back.

"Excuse you! That model is one of the best around, though ya didn't get my ass" Tony Winked at the soldier, he knew he was only messing so he played along.

"Meh, but it ain't America's ass is it?" Steve smirked, stepping closer to his friend with a mischievous look in his eyes.

"Nah but its better" A remark Tony would quickly regret at the strong blond man lifted his friend into the air and over his shoulder and began walking him to the couch in the lab.

"Steve! Steve put me down!?" Tony knew what would happen, but his ego was too big to let go of.

"Okay" Steve then threw his friend onto the couch long ways with a humph. Tony tried to crawl out but there was no way he could. Steve had grabbed his arms and placed them above his head as he sat over the smaller man that was between his legs. Tony and Steve locked eyes, mischief burning.

"Let go Rogers-" Tony hesitated. Steve thought for a moment, jokingly of course, and then agreed.

"Okay!" And dug into the brown haired man's sides causing a squeal to escape, followed by heart laughter, after a second Syeve slowed down and started to spider his fingers lightly across his stomach, this made thousands of babyish giggles escape into the open air.

"Steheheveeeeehehr!!!" Tony pleaded as he tried to think straight, he wasnt expecting it to go like this, usually Roger's would start by teasing and lightly then rougher, this time he went all in and it caused a brilliant reaction.

Steve began to drag his fingers up Tony's sides and ribs, occasionally tapering the man, sending him into squeals and wiggling around even more harshly.

"Steheheveee! NooAHAHAAAHHH NAHH" Steve tasered the billionaire and shook his fingers between his rib cage.

"Sorry Tony, does this Tickle?" He teased, making the billionaire squirm even more, leading perfect access to his underarms. Steve shit his hands up that automatically caused Tony to slam his arms down, they both stared at each other for a moment. Tiny nervous giggles coming from the all powerful Tony Stark and a mischievous look coming from the War Hero Steven Rogers.

Suddenly he began to wiggle his fingers in the mans under arms, making him buck and squeal, trying to push Steve's scratching arms away.

Tony wasnt the most ticklish person in the world, no where near, Steve might have been a tiny bit worse to be honest. But Steve was much larger than Tony, and knew all the ways to make the billionaire scream if he wanted to. Turn the richest, sarcastic, one of the most powerful men in the world into a puddle of giggling laughter.

Steve scratched the unshaven hollows of Tony's armpit, then began to scrape down his ribs. He soon had the billionaire begging with his belly laughter and tingles everywhere.

"Stoooppppp!!! StehAHVEAHH sT0Ppp!!!"

Steve knew Tony was tired now, so he did the last thing he would usually do to torture his friend. Steve lifted up the white tank top his friend had on with slight dirt on. Tony knew what was about to happen, and squirmed more than he had before. Trying to keep his shirt down. It only landed him with Steve sighing with a smirk and placing his hands above his head.

"No- no Rogers don't you dare- I cant- no- NO STEVE DON'T"

Steve then bent down to the billionaire's outty belly button, and blew on it sending shivers down Tony's spine.

"But you always love it" He smirked up. It always seemed to surprise Tony how taunting the blond man really could be.

"Roger's! Ihihi- nohoho" Giggles began to sprew out Tony's mouth, Steve had begun blowing on it and his belly, just pushing cold air.

Suddenly Steve stared Tony right in the eyes and placed his lips over the man's most sensitive area, blowing a massive raspberry causing an inhuman scream to come from the billionaire mouth.

"NAHAHAHA" Tony buzzed as the sensation spread through his body, making him squeal and laugh harder than before. Destroyed by ticklish sensations the man gave in, his laughter echoing throughout the compound.

Steve let go of his arms and sat next to the now curled up teary man on the couch giggling. He patted his thigh and laughed laying back closing his eyes just listening to the laughter. Steve was and is glad he had these moments with people, it made him smile.

"Fuhuhuck youhoho" Tony giggled, clutching his sides and belly, turning onto his back to look at Roger's. Steve opened his eyes and innocently looked at the billionaire in confusion.

"What do you mean Tony?"

"I'm getting you back capsical" Tony Grunted.

Steve laughed, he knew it was probably true, but even so he enjoyed the memories. It wasn't uncommon for the two of them to get into tickle fights. They weren't sure why but it was an unspoken agreement between the two of them. It made everything seem a little more child like in their hectic lives.

Tony lay back, still clutching his sides as he giggled his way back to reality, Steve chuckled at the endless giggles that poured from his friends mouth. That's when F.R.I.D.A.Y notified them of the young girls health.

"Mr. Roger's, the young female child you brought in earlier is now getting better. If you would like to see her she's reating but is in good condition."

"Thank you F.R.I.D.A.Y, I'll be going" Steve hopped up off the couch and smiled at his sighing genius friend. "You wanna come?"

Tony sighed for a moment, opening his eyes looking over the super solider. He grunted, "sure, why not" the man proceeded to get up and sigh looking towards Steve. "F.R.I.D.A.Y, delete the last however long that tickle fight was footage."

"No! Save it and put it on a tape or something, dont delete it please." Steve smirked at tony who now was blushing a little harder with a death glare. "And anyways, it wasn't really a tickle fight, more like an ambush in which you failed" Steve began walking off as a very pissed Tony was left to glare at him before running towards him to follow.

Tony pressed the code pad and they both exited. Tony then tweaked Steve's side, making the much larger man jump and stare at him. Making Tony laugh.

The two made their way to the med bay, chatting about the mission and what Tony had actually been working on the whole time Steve had been sketching him. Once they made it there they saw Bruce outside waiting for them. He smiled at the super soldier and other genius.

"So that was the laughter I assume?" He asked pointing his head at Tony and his light blush, the billionaire rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a smile, Steve on the other hand automatically agreed and laughed with Bruce.

"Well anyways, now you're done would you like to come see her?" Bruce already knew the answer so they all walked into the Med Bay and towards the young girl while bruce explained the situation.

"She seem's to be alright to some degree, her heart is beating quite fast or slow at sudden changes and her blood type seems a little off (your blood type) but it seems okay. We've stitched up a few wounds but otherwise shes healing appalling fast which is a good sign. Allhough she is pale and quite skinny."

Steve looked over the young girl, her hair was now much smoother, having washed out the gruesome things now her (y/h/c) hair stood out even more. Her skin was washed and she were now in a much cleaner hospital grown.

"Shes gonna be alright, but Tony I need to speak with you" Bruce turned a little more nervous within his speech as he motioned Tony to follow him as Steve looked over the girl.

"What's up Anger?" Tony joked, he saw the girl, she seemed fine- well to a degree. Something was off but he pushed it away.

Bruce looked between the girl and Tony, then focusing on the male he began to explain once more, "She has no record. I can't find anything on her from her blood type, she had woken up earlier- dont tell Steve. But she was out of it, she seemed in pain but dizzy. I asked her if she could answer some things and she agreed quietly, she said her name was y/n y/l/n she doesn't remember anything else though. I've searched files and even got F.R.I.D.A.Y doing back round checks on y/l/n's but we found nothing"

Tony raised an eyebrow and looked at the girl and Steve, "you found nothing and she presumably has no life?"

"Nada nothing, it's like she came out of no where. Not only no life, no family, no DNA relatives of known. Even her DNA seems intertwined." Now both men were watching you. Yes, you.

"I guess we've got a new kid then" Tony shrugged.

"What? Tony you can't just adopt her-"

"I dont see why not? She has no life Bruce, nothing. What are we going to do with her? She has no records and the government will have questions. It's best she stays with us" Tony explained, still watching you as Bruce watched him. Partchly in shock but he too could agree.

"I mean... are you sure Tony?"

Stark shrugged and chuckled turning to Bruce, "I've already got a teen or two, how hard could it be?"

[misssophiachase]

Thanks to the talented @klarolineagainnaturally for the gorgeous cover, I am in love with it! So, in honour of Valentine’s Day, here is an UPDATE, thank you for the love you’ve all given me so far. Let me know what you think. 

Synopsis: One wedding involving a best man and maid of honour who've grown up together but don't know quite how to reconcile their unresolved feelings.

Mr Mikael and Mrs Esther Mikaelson and Dr Grayson and Mrs Miranda Pierce request the pleasure of your presence at the wedding of their children:

The Hon Elijah Edward Mikaelson and Dr Katherine Elena Pierce

On the twenty-third of June, twenty-twenty one, 1400h at Ely Cathedral followed by a reception at Mikaelson Manor, Ely Cambridgeshire

Dress: White Tie

23rd June 2021, Mikaelson Manor, Ely Cambridgeshire - 9:39am

“Okay, less trying to manhandle the cupcakes and instead more hustle, Mikaelson,” Caroline ordered, barely slowing down in the process.

Klaus, meanwhile, was trying to be annoyed but couldn’t stop thinking how adorable she was when taking charge. He’d met her in the kitchen as directed and was already in full ‘save the cake’ planning mode. She was in her element clearly.

He was a little disappointed she’d decided to change out of the shorts and robe combination into jeans and a t-shirt but Klaus decided that it was okay if he could spend even a little more time with her. Once the wedding started he doubted they’d have much time to talk, let alone anything else.

Which was unfortunate for Klaus because he had a lot he wanted to say. Over a decade’s worth of things, in fact.

The realisation that he’d liked her since high school but was too stupid to see it.

Then falling in love with her two years ago when they pseudo speed dated and watched romantic comedies on Valentine’s Day. He’d woken up with her cradled in his embrace and Klaus knew it probably wasn’t a coincidence they’d ended up that way.

The night had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced with anyone. When she pretended like nothing happened Klaus had no choice but to deny it too. He’d been in denial ever since until now.

The previous night’s events had been playing on repeat in his mind as he tried to sleep. She stole his sandwich and then they talked, like really talked.

Then there was that whole other thing that happened before Tully ate the wedding cake. Nobody knew about that yet and given it was his brother’s wedding day it was probably best.

Too much to say and too little time clearly.

“So, what exactly are these bonbons for anyway?” He asked, removing one from it’s white box and transferring it to the cake stand.

“It’s Bomboniere.”

“What now? We can’t all be wedding aficionados,” he joked.

“They are the gifts for the guests,” she explained. “We’ll make them the cake, not overly traditional but problem solved.”

“Well, not to nitpick love,” he murmured, she gave him a look which clearly meant she didn’t believe him. “But what are you going to give the guests instead? I mean I don’t need a gift, even if my presence is a gift in itself to the happy couple.”

“Ignoring that ego, I assumed people wouldn’t notice?”

“If you mean my grandmother as well as Mikael and Esther then good luck,” Klaus shared.

“Well, do you have any better ideas?”

8.5 hours earlier

“Well, do you have any better ideas?”

“I only mean that you could kill a few of the jokes and add some more sentimental content, I realise you do have that stand-up comedian dream but I’m sure it can wait a little longer,” Caroline teased, sandwich in hand. He’d long given up hope she’d return it to him.

“Sentimental? Have you met me, Forbes?”

“Oh come on, I’m sure you have something buried way deep, deep, deep down inside.”

“Cute.”

“He’s your brother, you must have something you could share about growing up together and…”

“Well, there was that time he wet his pants when Kol…”

“Not what I meant, Mikaelson, and you know that. He’s getting married, this is your only opportunity to do this and you have to get it right.”

“So, what have you written for your Maid-of-Honour speech?”

“Oh, so now you’re going to copy me? Trust me, I don’t think you could pull off half my speech.”

“Let me guess, you are going to say something like...'the best love is the kind that awakens the soul and makes us reach for more, that plants a fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds.'

“Did you memorise The Notebook?”

“You made me watch it remember?”

“Yeah, like two years ago."

“What can I say, cheesy lines have this annoying ability to lodge themselves in my brain, unfortunately.”

“Let me guess you’d say: a wedding is a sacrament... a joyous celebration of love and commitment. In utopia. In the real world... it's an excuse to drink excessively and say things you shouldn't say.”

“Says the girl who’s judging me but using her own rom com lines.”

Klaus realised he was trying to play it cool and quoting the Notebook and recognising dialogue from The Wedding Date wasn’t a great look. Klaus didn’t want to admit it, especially to Caroline, but he might have watched those movies a few times since.

It was ridiculous, especially given he didn’t like them..much...but they reminded him of her. He figured if he couldn’t have the real thing he’d torture himself with romantic comedies instead. Messed up, right?

“ So it isn’t true?”

“That guy had the right idea.” Of course he knew the guy was called Nick but Klaus figured he’d already embarrassed himself enough.

“So, you don’t believe in marriage.”

It was faint but he could sense the change in her tone and strain in her voice. For a split second Klaus felt buoyed, like maybe he still had a chance with her. But at the same time he wasn’t sure if he was imagining things.

“I believe in marriage if it’s for the right reasons and with the right person,” he replied, noticing her face soften slightly. “I just think the concept that the wedding day is supposed to be the biggest and happiest day of your life is wrong. It’s about the commitment, not just one day.”

“I think that’s fair, everyone gets caught up in all of the wedding festivities and forgets about the real meaning behind it all.”

“As we hunt for wedding rings in the garden and madly try to perfect our speech the night before,” he teased. “Although that part about drinking excessively and saying things you shouldn’t has my Great Aunt Maude written all over it.”

“Noted,” she chuckled. “So, maybe that’s what you need to say in your speech then.”

“I’m not sure my mother would appreciate me insulting Great Aunt Maude during the speeches, even if she will probably be too drunk to remember.”

“Not that part,” she shot back, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly. “The part about marriage being not just one day but a commitment shared for life.”

“Let’s hope everyone is too drunk to remember me saying that,” he joked. “I do have a reputation to protect, Forbes.”

“Well, maybe it’s time you stopped caring about what people think and be yourself. If there is anytime to do that it’s for your brother’s wedding.”

“You have this annoying habit of eating my food, making me watch romantic comedies and also making me feel guilty.”

“It was one sandwich, Mikaelson. If you don’t want me to eat it next time don’t add mayonnaise. As for the guilt, maybe that is just your conscience screaming to be heard in the form of a best man speech.”

“I never said I wasn’t taking notes.”

He held her gaze, a genuine smile that had been suppressed. Instead of looking away, Caroline’s blue eyes remained trained on his. It was as if there was no wedding or kitchen or mayo sandwiches. Just them. At this moment.

Klaus could pinpoint the exact moment he knowingly fell in love with Caroline Forbes, it was when she teased him about crying during the Notebook. The moment he unknowingly fell in love with her was when she rolled her eyes at him when he gave a smart ass comment during english class. Here and now, Klaus knew no one would ever compare to Caroline Forbes and that he needed to get out of his comfort zone and tell her just how he felt.

“Caroline…”

“Wow, is that the time?” She interrupted, her creamy cheeks tinged slight pink as she consulted her watch. “We should get to bed if we want to be functional tomorrow.”

Then she was gone as quickly as she’d arrived. Klaus wasn’t sure how to feel. Disappointed she’d interrupted him or relieved that he didn’t make a fool of himself.

Either way, sleep didn't come easily that night.

“Hello?”

“What did you say?” Klaus broke out of his trance wondering how long she’d been trying to reach him.

“I said, how are we going to fix the Bomboniere issue,” she pressed. “It’s T minus four hours until the ceremony starts. If only your grandmother and parents didn’t have such a keen eye for detail.”

“It’s not detail, it’s how things will look,” he drawled, knowing his parents’ motives all too well. “I’m surprised they thought a cupcake would suffice to be honest.”

“Well, Kat wanted to do a donation gift to the hospital for the Bomboniere and there was so much back and forth during the planning stages that a cupcake was a quick fix.”

“A donation gift?”

“In lieu of a gift, the happy couple donate to a chosen charity on the guest’s behalf.”

“That’s a brilliant idea.”

“Well, not to brag but it was my suggestion.”

“Of course it was,” he said warmly, thinking it was just another reason to love her for being so kind and generous. “What was their issue with a donation to a good cause? Oh hang on why am I even asking, it’s my parents, I know exactly why.”

“Well, apparently your father argued it would be showing favouritism to donate to one particular cause and given Elijah is supposed to represent all people and groups it wouldn’t be a good look.”

“Oh please,” Klaus scoffed. “That is a lie and we all know it. I love how my parents can still manipulate every situation to their benefit even years later.”

“To be fair to Kat and Elijah I think it was just easier to give in to avoid further disruption of the event plans which were already fairly delayed.”

“It’s their wedding and they should be able to choose what they want,” he growled. “Okay, I have an idea.”

“I’m listening.”

“We nominate a half a dozen different charities and it is up to the guests to choose where their donations go. Then father can’t say the bride and groom are being partial to one charity over others…”

“But that the decision is ultimately up to the guests.”

“Exactly.”

“But there’s not much time to make it happen.”

“I hate to stereotype but I’m going to,” he shared. “Men don’t take that long to get ready, with the exception of Kol, so we can get this done in time, I promise.”

“I’d like to help...”

“On the other hand, and not to stereotype, but some women take longer to get ready.”

“You’re talking about Rebekah aren’t you?”

“Apparently I am incredibly transparent too. How about I work on this and you find a cake or cupcake topper?”

“Wow, you know its name? Have you ever considered wedding planning as a new career direction, Mikaelson?”

“You tell anyone about my part in this and I will detail the almost wedding ring loss in my best man speech and that is a promise, Forbes.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” she mused, her smile widening and tugging at his heart more than he was expecting. “But I’ll take it.”

She held out her hand and Klaus was almost afraid to touch it given the feelings it would no doubt conjure up and now was neither the time or the place. He acted against his better judgment and enveloped his hand in hers.

Her skin was soft and enticing and as soon as she touched him, the feelings he was trying to ignore had made their way from bubbling below the surface to front and centre. But there was a wedding and Klaus wasn’t even sure if she felt what he did so it really wasn’t the time.

“Klaus...” the way she said it was so vulnerable and inviting and all he wanted to do was let her finish the sentence but he was also afraid at the same time. He couldn’t do rejection right now, that was for sure.

“I, uh, better get going if we are going to pull this off,” he smiled, albeit awkwardly given his heart was racing due to their unexpected contact. “We’ll compare notes in a few hours.”

He was the one to leave this time.

Klaus felt bad but at the same time he knew it was the right thing to do given the enormous job at hand.

Entering his bedroom, Klaus close the door quietly behind him. He leaned his head up against the door, willing his heart to stop racing and to return to normal so he could try and be productive. Klaus knew he needed to focus.

Then he let his eyes wander around the room. He could be messy at times but this was another level. His clothes were strewn across the whole space. Given he hadn’t packed that much, Klaus was wondering how his clothing seemed to have tripled in that time. 

Then he realised it, there wasn’t more of it, it was just cut into many pieces. He bent down and grabbed a few handfuls of material confirming the jagged edges weren’t a fashion statement but sabotage pure and simple.

Klaus knew exactly who had done it and why. Klaus knew he was to blame for her outburst, although he was certain she wasn’t that upset at the time given she couldn’t wait to get out of this ‘god forsaken place’ he’d dragged her to in the ‘middle of nowhere’ with ‘nobodies’ to ‘the detriment of her social media.’

Yes, he’d woken from a restless night after his time in the kitchen with Caroline and decided it was best to be honest and tell the truth. Klaus couldn’t in good conscience keep dating Hayley when he was madly in love with Caroline. Even if she didn’t reciprocate his feelings Klaus knew Hayley didn’t deserve that. She’d basically packed her bags on the spot while he tended to the Tully cake eating emergency. When he’d returned briefly she’d shut herself in the adjoining bathroom and wasn’t ready to talk.

Looks like she still wasn’t given the bathroom door was wide open and her luggage was missing. On the plus side she’d left but on the down side she’d shredded his entire wardrobe. Immediately Klaus felt sick, rushing to the wardrobe to check on his suit for the wedding. Needless to say it had been unceremoniously massacred and left in a pathetic heap at the bottom of the cupboard.

A woman scorned and all that.

Now, he didn’t just have Bomboniere to fix, as promised, but now he had a suit emergency too.

“Bloody weddings,” he muttered, wondering how he was going to fix this problem.

[hitbythunder]

Among the Gods of Asgard -7

A dark!Thor x Reader, minor Loki x Reader story with all the drama and angst you’re craving. Including Alexander Skarsgard as Balder. –> Read also on AO3

WARNING: dark story, manipulative Thor, heavy rape/non-con elements, no happy ending in sight

____________________________xXx____________________________

Bright rays of midday-sun illuminated the vast hallway as the youngest prince strode towards his chambers. Suddenly loud horns were audible outside, a fanfare announcing important news. Halting in his tracks, the raven-haired god listened to the familiar noise coming from the main gate of the palace, the prospect of today's chess session with the mortal maid receding into the distance. Thor and Balder have returned...

On proud steeds, the royal brothers and their comrades rode towards the large stone steps leading to the main entrance of the palace. A top of the smooth stairs, several guards and servants had already gathered to tend to both masters and horses. The crown-prince didn't hurry to descend however, stalling time to let his gaze scan through the crowd of mortals surrounding him, Balder and Sif. But before he could make out this one particular maid, the flock of servants split to make way for the queen to welcome her sons, Idunn at her heels. In a tender embrace, Frigga greeted Thor and then Balder, barely able to enclasp her beloved boys like she used to when they were children - especially her eldest had grown into a mountain of a man. And while the queen praised the Norns for safely returning her sons, Thor couldn't help but look out for the girl once more, more eagerly this time but still very subtly. A sinister spark flashed in his ocean-blue orbs as the abigail and a group of maids stepped forward, her being among them but refusing to look at him.

There you are, little one...

"Welcome back, your highnesses!" Gerlinda bowed lowly in respect, then commanded the slaves at her back in a shrill voice to get moving. Instantly they surrounded the gods and the goddess and helped them out of their thick fur capes which had served them well on the winter-struck Vanaheim. In dismay, Thor watched how warmly _________ smiled at Balder when he handed her his leather gloves, putting them gently into her small hands. Her smile was honest and warm, as if she was really happy to see the god again, like he was the sun returning after a few days of rain. Balder's expression was a mixture of joy and puzzlement as he looked down upon the small mortal. The sight wasn't as pleasing as when she had shuddered in fear like the other night in the baths, but Thor felt a pang of jealousy nevertheless - not that he would recognize, let alone name the feeling as that. That would require some self-reflection. It only made him more determined to pursue this newly awoken cravings for the little mortal.

"....Your journey was a success, your highness?" Thor's mind had drifted off already when Idunn addressed him and thus he quickly forced himself to focus on what lay in front of him - the goddess wore a lovely dress as usual - and she didn't mind the crown-prince's gaze to bounce nonchalantly down onto her bosom before looking her at the face properly. Neither did Thor, actually, but then he proceeded according to etiquette, elevating Idunn's hand to plant a faint kiss on the knuckles like a gentleman would. His full lips felt soft and tender against her skin, contrasting to how he usually handled her elsewhere. "Indeed it was, Lady Idunn, for all parties involved!" he replied with a cunning smile a woman could easily faint at. Oh he could be such a charmer. Frigga had taught her sons how to treat a lady and sometimes - mostly to conquer those ladies - Thor would recall her lessons and played his part well. A good son ought to make his mother proud.

All the while, a pair of hazelnut eyes rested on him, watching his every twitch from behind and searching for signs of concern, let alone betrayal. Sif could be terribly jealous and didn't cope well with competition - especially female one. Thus the Prince did well to keep each of his liaisons unaware of the other, starting by acting rather detachedly around them when both were in his presence. Thor wasn't stupid - maybe not a mastermind like Loki - but he knew how to manage two women at a time. So far, neither of them had noticed the other, and the blonde took great care to keep it that way. To avoid the wrath of a woman had been one of the All-Father's advices - from well learned experience, so the brothers assumed. "We are all glad to have you back, my dear!" The soft hands of the queen slung around the crown-prince's massive arm, diverting his gaze from Idunn to the right. Frigga loved her sons above all, her radiant smile infectious to the beholder.

"Me too because Vanaheim lacks the beauty of our city of Asgard!" Thor replied joyfully as the group of gods began to walk inside, him leading the queen, the slaves following soundlessly behind. And while the blonde was engaged into chatting with his mother, being rather restricted to it, he felt the eyes of a maid resting on him and almost boring into his flesh from behind. Obviously ________ knew that he was unable to interact with her directly now and chose to torture him, daring him to turn around and return the staring. And oh, the urge to do so was really itching. Just you wait, little minx!

xxx

In the evening, the great hall was filled with joyous gods and Asgardian nobility to feast in honor of Thor and Balder. The numerous guests were drinking and chatting vividly while an army of servants scurried between the benches and tables to satisfy each one of them, keeping their goblets as well as their plates filled. At occasions like this also a part of the personal slaves was on duty too, keeping their deity replenished. On the high table at the back of the hall sat the royal family, Odin at the center, and even he seemed to be in good spirits tonight, a content smile peeking behind the snow-white beard and even reaching his grey eye. When he rose the crowd grew quiet instantly so that they wouldn't miss a single word of the All-Father as he praised his two eldest sons for securing the important trade treaty with Vanaheim. The combination of Balder's diplomatic charm and Thor being himself - threatening the Lord of Vanaheim to crush his skull if he declined - had produced the desired outcome and another decade of fruitful business between the realms was guaranteed.

"...another deed which proves that my dear son is on his best way to becoming a ruler!" Odin said towards the end of his speech, the lines painting a triumphant smirk onto the crown-prince's face. "Thus drink and eat to your heart's content, for tonight we shall celebrate!" Following their ruler, the guests raised their goblets filled with delicate Asgardian wine.

"Hail Prince Balder and Prince Thor, the future king of Asgard!" Njord, the god of the sea, called out from the right side of the hall, the crowd tuning in to his booming voice.

"Hail Prince Balder, hail Prince Thor!!"

Again and again they yelled, Thor reveling in the shouts becoming louder each time - his ego was sky rocketing by now, judging from the self-satisfied smirk on his bearded face. Like the one he wore when he had forced her to 'wash' him, ______ recalled as she watched the scene from behind the high table. Balder had of course taken her and two other maids with him tonight, an honor for any mortal. Yet it felt like walking on thin ice nevertheless. While everyone present was focused on Thor, who sat at the king's right side, the perceptive maid didn't fail to notice the tensed look on Loki's face on the other end of the table. Although he was smiling as he held up his goblet, his emerald eyes glinted dangerously and remained untouched by the joy his lower face might suggest.

The evening passed smoothly and without incidents since each slave feared the consequences of unintentional misbehaving or clumsiness.

The maid flying across the room, remember? _________ imagined herself sharing this fate each time she refilled Balder's goblet, approaching the god from the right side in order to remain some distance to the crown-prince - it wasn't much actually, because the royals sat the following: Loki, Frigga, Odin, Thor and Balder. Still, the mortal did everything in her power to avoid the Thunderer, be it any interaction or mere staring, and Thor loathed it already. What a tease...

Tables were turned literally, however, when Odin and Frigga retired for the night and soon later, the royal brothers were in the company of Sif, Idunn and the Warriors Three, fine warriors from an insignificant lineage of gods. During the rearrangement, Thor had somehow managed to win a seat beside Loki and (more importantly) opposite to Balder, which allowed a full view of the mortal maid in the background. Smirking into his goblet, Thor watched _________'s every move, pretending to look at his brother while chatting when in fact his gaze was hungrily roaming over the little maid. The slender hands struggling to hold the heavy jug of mead. The first sign of a decollete showing as she bent forward to pour the liquid... Thor was beyond horny, his crotch calling for attention, when his little brother interrupted his fantasizing. "Pondering over a lost cause, dear brother?" Loki put in as he noted the other god's tensed expression, leaning over slightly as Thor replied only with a puzzled look. "Or why the strain on your face? You of all people ought to enjoy yourself tonight!" The Thunderer didn't notice the bitterness dripping off the Trickster's tongue at the last sentence, smiling warmly at his beloved little brother in return. "A lost cause?... Not really!"

Not lost at all...it has barely begun!

"... But you're right, forgive me my brooding! Let's have another round!!" the crown-prince yelled joyfully, his friends tuning in so that Loki had no chance to dig deeper into the matter, his curiosity being smothered at the very beginning. A stark contrast to Thor's lecherousness, which refused to be quenched by another few gulps of mead, no, it would need something far more pleasant than that. Spurned by his need, Thor excused himself five minutes later, after shooting a hinting, almost demanding glance towards Sif. Then he left the hall. The dark-haired goddess slipped away inconspicuously slightly afterwards to follow her prince, complying his unspoken request.

Clandestinely, the goddess vanished in a dim-lit empty corridor a little away from the feast where the predator already waited for her, grabbing her impatiently and rudely once she was within his reach. Sif barely had the chance to apply some lube, preparing her entrance for what stretch it would suffer shortly, before the Thunderer took the lube from her, turned her around and impaled her on his swollen, throbbing cock. Hidden in the shadows of a row of columns, Thor rammed himself deeply into Sif, jamming his hips against her butt as if he had been abstinent for a month, the surroundings blurring as their bodies heated up with the flames of desire - desire for the small body of a mortal. Oh, all this wild lust raging inside him because of that one maid - it was unbearable. And the god knew he wouldn't reach the apex he yearned for with Sif around his member. But Alas, he was impatient and she more available...

xxx

In the meantime, Balder and Loki had a heated discussion about the negotiations for the peace treaty, which in Loki's view hadn't been closed off as quickly as he could have done it. "Truth be told, little brother, you are the better diplomat but tell me..." The mead began to affect the blonde god as he lazily leaned onto the raven-haired one, smiling softly. "...how would you have kept Thor from smashing things - or rather some Vanir - while pushing the treaty through?"

Loki's face lit up with a smirk in reply, his emerald green eyes sparkling as he imagined his elder brother struggling to manage Thor's temper. The two blondes had always been a rather vivid duo, spurning each other instead of calming. (Well that was true for all three of them).

"Ah yes, our dear brother can be a wild card but there is a fairly simple trick to channel his temper!"

Now the Trickster had the attention of all the gods present at the table, each turning and listening carefully as not to overhear the soft silken voice of the prince. Loki enjoyed every second of it and __________ couldn't help but grin as she watched the scene, her gaze lingering on Loki a tad longer than what was considered appropriate. The black leather armor he wore was highlighted by a golden chest-plate and vambraces, green silk flashing on the inside of the high collar and providing a neat contrast to the waves of raven-black hair. He looks so radiant tonight.... the maid though to herself as she lost herself somewhere between those emerald eyes, when suddenly the gods started laughing at the pointe of Loki's joke  - which she had totally missed as mesmerized as she was by his appearance.

"...Maid!" Balder's voice over-tuned the fading laughter of the others and it was then that the girl focused again, quickly stepping closer to her master.

"Yes, your highness?"

"Fetch us some more mead, so that my brother's tongue may remain moist enough to tell more of his splendid jokes!" Balder commanded in a joyful tone, patting Loki on the shoulder who then quickly shot a glance towards the mortal, their eyes meeting briefly yet long enough for the Trickster to wink at her.

"As you wish, your highness!" _________ replied and went off in a rush to hide the deep red on her cheeks.

The maid was brought down from the clouds again when she realized that all the wine jugs stored near the high table were empty. Additionally none of the general staff slaves was around to help her out which meant that she had to walk to the kitchens herself and refill the jug. Believing that Thor was still at the toilets, she decided to take a detour as not to run into him - in the light of that the longer route didn't matter much.

Thus the mortal left the hall with a metal jug in hand and, as fait would have it, she chose a certain dim-lit hallway where two gods were currently 'indisposed.'

Unfortunately, the panting and grunting reached he girl's ears when she stood right in front of the indecent scene, her whole being transfixed by it: Thor fucking Sif from behind, his bare massive arms flexed as he held onto her hips to maneuver the goddess along his shaft. Both still had their light sleeveless leather armors on, their pants slightly lowered just to allow the penetration. Rocking back and forth, Thor pressed the moaning woman against the stone wall, a grunt escaping him at the better angle.

The sight was overly arousing and the little mortal just couldn't tear her eyes away, neither would her body obey the distant call of her mind to run.

The blonde god was wrapped up in the approaching bliss when he noted the silent observer, sensing her familiar presence, and lifted his gaze to meet hers. Heavy laden with lust, those dark blue eyes stared at the mortal, his cock hardening more now that he knew she was watching, and then the god raised his arm to point directly at her. The message was unmistakable: I will ravish you, all of you and nothing will stop me!

An ice-cold shudder rushed along _________'s spine at this unspoken threat, electrifying each bone and nerve, causing her hold on the jug to loosen. And loosen....

Suddenly the sound of metal clashing onto the stone floor cut through the air. Instantly, as if the blurring curtain surrounding them had vanished, Sif halted dead in her tracks and soon found the source of the disturbance. A sinister smirk spread on the crown prince's face as he realized the opportunity unfolding in front of him.

[limenysnocket]

●The Blush Bet●

Pt. III: Our Love. . .

Summary: After their first non-official date, Taika can't get (Y/N) out of his mind. Every time he opens his phone, it's open to her number and a drafted text lays there and taunts him. He sees her at work and longs for her lips on his. There's never a perfect time to strike and it's all left to spoil until he's on her porch, love stricken, and knocking on her door.

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, masturbation and pure porn.

Request: @honorarytenenbaum

A/N: My God, is it hot in here or is it just Taika?

●□○●□○●■○●□○●

I saw her today, but a new light was casted on her and now I can't get her out of my head.

I always knew she was beautiful, but now she was gorgeous and she taunts me with that. With every step she takes, her hips sway and I swear my eyes must look like the copper in a an old bell, following her curves back and forth, whether it be when she runs or just walks fast past me.

Pedro has been asking both of us questions about the date, and every time I try to ask how she felt about it, he stops me, says he doesn't trade secrets, then leaves me hanging. Yes, I know the date was awful, putting her in that pink dress that I bought on EBay, but I said it was going to be horrible and I'm commonly a man of my word. Although, sometimes I promise a drama and just end up with a sick comedy most of the time. Dreadful, isn't it?

Just-- The way she looks at me, with her eyes all glittery. Maybe it's a translucent force holding me back from going over to her, grabbing her by the cheeks and smashing her lips on mine. I would beg for it... maybe I could, if she didn't mind.

No, that would be too childish... but she was leaving me no choice at this point.

I had betrayed the very rules that I had laid down on the date. She wasn't allowed to fall in love with me, and me and my snarky pride thought I'd be fine and come out of the date feeling free. God damn it, my ego is too big sometimes. I never knew that a woman could level me with her eyes in mere seconds. It happened once, but that ended horribly, obviously. Maybe this time, it will be good. It could be good. Maybe. Maybe.

We brushed shoulders today in the green room and it took every ounce of my being to not pin her to a wall in front of every one. Just one kiss. Maybe just one kiss would end all this, and my feelings could be extinguished rightfully instead of torturing me over one woman.

Like this morning, it had driven me insane. I had to cook my eggs with a hard on and stopped halfway through to deal with it. Because I still had my dignity left, I went to the bathroom to deal with it.

I dropped my boxers and stared at it for a moment, thinking of the reason why it was here, then I remembered. Her. (Y/N).

Images of her face entered my mind and before I knew it, my hand was stroking my raw cock. The images of her began to change, and now very lewd. She was screaming my name like it was the only word she knew and her body seemed to bounce in front of me with every stroke of my hand. If only it were real. If only I could actually simulate her warm cunt around me.

I stood in front of my sink, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed. My forehead glistened with sweat and I was no longer pumping my hand, but thrusting my hips into it. My free hand gripped the sink and my nails etched invisible lines across the marble. The image of (Y/N) still invaded my vision. Damn it, I was even moaning her name. This wasn't supposed to be the way I found out I was in love with her. I could be moaning any past girl's name or even a dream girl, but no. I tried. I tried so hard, but none of them worked, even in the slightest. I was still drawn to (Y/N) like I was attached to her at the hip. I needed her. I needed her bad.

After work and another wank I managed to get my shit together. Well, almost. So many texts were sprawled into my phone, so many "I miss you" notes and "I love you" sticky notes stuck on the island of my kitchen, idea after idea after idea, but I chickened out of every one of them in the end. I'm supposed to be working on the script, but I'll be damned if I let myself accidentally type "(Y/N)" as one of the names in the typing process.

I buried my face in my hands. She was only one call away. One call.

I picked up my phone and bit my bottom lip as it quivered. I didn't even know what I was going to say. Would I flat out say I love her? No, that's too straightforward. Should I ask if I could... Wait, she's home, isn't she? If I could tell her in person, maybe this feeling would leave. Maybe if I could steal one kiss, my heart would stop pounding every time I thought of her. If I just set my standards really high before I kiss her, I will seem underwhelmed and forget all about my feelings for her.

I took a shaky deep breath, nodding as I clicked onto the dial pad and called a cab. I was going to show up to her door, totally unexpected, and beg her to let me kiss her. If it needs to come down to begging.

It was only a mere lightning flash before I was at her door and my hand was raised in the exact same way it was before we came close to kissing that night. I wonder what would have happened if her lips touched mine. Would I be over her or would she be under me?

Thunder rumbled in the sky above me and I realized that I needed to knock on the door and get in fast, before my new Salmon colored shirt and grey pants got ruined. I sucked up all the courage I had and out it into three stiff knocks on her door.

I could hear shuffling around inside and my foot started to bounce. My cab had already pulled out of the driveway, so there was no going back now. My breath accelerated as the locks started to come undone on the door and my hands clenched and so did my heart.

The door slowly tugged open and there, just past the door, was the face I longed to see all throughout the day.

"I need to talk to you," I whispered hot and heavily, my mind silently taking note that she was only dressed in a massive Prince t-shirt.

"S-Sure, okay," she said in a very surprised and shaky voice. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were wide and a little wild. I must have woken her up, perhaps. She offered to let me inside before the rain started pouring down.

"What do you need to talk about?" She whispered to me as I made my way into her living room, rubbing a thumb over the opposite hand's knuckles.

"A lot of things," I said, looking at all the papers sprawled out on her coffee table, notes taken everywhere. She was working over time. Why? I thought she enjoyed her days off. There was something else I noticed. There was a little glimmer of some kind of liquid on the couch and just by it were prints and marks where she had been sitting and/or laying down on the couch. It made me gulp. I must have caught her doing--... oh my...

"You, uh... You might want to sit down for this," I said cautiously and she scurried over and quickly sat down on the couch, her body partially hiding the wet spot. Now, I knew it was for sure.

I took a deep breath, standing only a coffee table away from her. My hands fiddled about. They'd be in my pocket one minute, then fighting each other the next with brutal squeezes. "(Y/N)," I said, my voice very hoarse, then I shook my head. If I was going to beg, I might as well do it properly. I went around the coffee table and got down on my knees in front of her. "I can't stop thinking about you..." I whisper to her. She seems to go into quiet shock, but she nods her head to tell me to keep going. "I've had you on my mind all day. I've tried to stop, but I can't. I fear that this is some sort of sick obsession that has grown ever since... the night on your porch." I gently clasp her hand in mine. She squeezes it softly and looks down at it.

"It's been the same way with me," she muttered, to my surprise. Then, she started reading my thoughts exactly. "Maybe if I had kissed you, this wouldn't have happened and our lives might have stayed right on track... how we used to be..." She looked down and so did I, at our hands as her thumb brushed over my knuckles. "Friends," she said finally, putting an end to her speech.

"I've had the same theory," I say aloud, and lift my free hand to brush a strand of hair out of her face. "Think it's still worth giving a shot?"

I watched her stomach rise and fall slowly, then our eyes connected again and she began to lean in. No need for verbal agreement, I guessed, since she admitted it. My eyes flutter closed even before our lips completely touch, and our foreheads are the first to meet. In the beginning, we're hesitant, but as we sank in closer and our lips met, we no longer had second thoughts.

The kiss was slow and absorbed in feeling; passion, remorse, need and frustration, creating an ungodly mix of emotions all tangled into one. I failed my own plan again and forgot to set my standards high, but even if I did, she would have met them, just ever so perfectly. She tasted of warm peaches and her bottom lip was like a velvet pillow caressing my own lip. She didn't even need to try to be a good kisser. The sensation alone was magnificent.

We both pulled away at the same time. I was still crouched in front of her and ducked my head down, fingers running over my lips and soft pants parting between them. My heart no longer pounded. It fucking swirled. And so did my stomach, apparently. Oh God, I was falling deeper and deeper in love with her right in front of her.

I suddenly feel her hands move under my jaw and she cupped it, lifting my gaze up to meet hers again, that adorable little look she gave. There was a silent pact taken, an agreement, really...

We both needed more.

I was the first to launch up and capture her lips, and this kiss was much rougher than the last one. We both tilted our heads and I slowly rose from my knees and got onto the couch. She laid back, spreading her legs a little to allow me to lay between them. The moment our crotches touched, however, I stopped. It was warm and wet. So much to the point where I could feel it through my pants. I pulled out of the kiss, my expression skeptical, then my eyes flickered to hers. She was looking away with embarrassment. When I had found out that she had been having her alone time to play with herself, I had figured that she still had something on beneath the shirt to at least answer the door. Short shorts or something... Alas, I was wrong.

To confirm my suspicion, I started to grind on her gently. The more I did so, the more I felt my growing tent get dipped into her heat. I had to see it with my own eyes now.

One of my hands, at one time planted by her head, slipped down to the hem of her baggy shirt and brought it up to her chest, exposing not just her heat but the curve of her breasts. My eyes glossed over and I unconsciously licked my lips. There it was. That SHE was. Glistening wet and beautiful.

"You really had some time to think about me, huh?" I grinned cockily. She smacked my arm and huffed a little, cheeks an alarming red.

"Well, if it makes you uncomfortable, we can just shut this whole thing down before it happens," she said and crossed her arms.

"Who said it made me uncomfortable?" I purr and get close to her stomach, pressing a tender kiss to it, before trailing more down, lower and lower. She panted and whined in anticipation like a dog in heat. Patience was the key, in this situation, and I took my time. During my morning masturbation period, I really do have time to think, besides about what (Y/N) might look like completely nude or dressed in something I might like, and I have a tendency of asking myself questions... questions like what might (Y/N) taste like.

I gently pushed two fingers into her slit, then part her folds, my eyes scan everything from her clit down to her hole. My God, everything about her... It drives me crazy. I dove in, flicking my tongue against her bud and that made her mewl my name ever so softly. I needed more of that. I wanted to hear her scream it.

I licked a fat, hot strip from the bottom to the top. I groaned. Fuck, she tasted delicious. She started to cry out as I ate her out properly. Sucking, licking and flicking my tongue across those deliciously sensitive spots. Her legs lifted up and rested on my shoulders and her soft thighs squeezed my head. I let out a soft groan and that seemed to drive her even more crazy. My God, this woman.

My hands gripped her hips and tugged them close, to keep her from squirming away. It wasn't long before she was moaning even louder and her fingers tugged at my hair harshly. My tongue started to thrust in and out of her, something that I hoped to let my dick do in a matter of moments, once she came on my mouth. I clung to her like crazy and pleasured her until she squirted, but even then I stuck to her, drinking up everything she gave me.

My chin was coated and glistening with her juices and I licked my lips free of her taste. I wanted more, but I also knew that she was waiting for the main show. She sat up and beckoned me forward with a curled digit. She first lifted off her shirt to expose everything to me. I started feeling a little bad, being completely dressed, but I didn't have to worry about that for long.

Her hands went straight for my belt and we worked fast together. I undid my button up and threw it off, along with my white undershirt. I smirked at the eagerness in her actions. She practically ripped my boxers off. I don't think I'll be getting them back after all this. Oh well. My thumb went to her clit once I had tossed everything off, but she grabbed my collar and tugged me close. "No more teasing," she growled hotly in my ear. That made me twitch with want. I nodded and took a deep breath, grabbing her by the thighs and dragging her where she was laying down in front of me.

I caressed her body with my hand and I began to kiss her neck, softly and slowly while I started to push into her tight cunt. She was so much tighter than I imagined. She was everything compared to my lubed up hand. She moaned my name into my ear and started to mewl for me. I let her adjust while gripping her hips tightly. I whispered soft curses into her ear.

I can't believe this moment was happening, that I was starting to pound into her wildly, just how I imagined I'd do it if she had actually been there, on my bathroom sink this morning to help deal with the "problem" that occurred. I should have kissed her a whole lot earlier.

I now bury my face into her bosom and kiss the skin between them while my hips bumped against hers violently and passionately. Never has desecrating someone's couch felt so good before.

Our sinful moans, nature and sounds filled the room. The couch rocked beneath our love making and our lips eventually met again. I could still taste her on the tip of my tongue, her essence. She didn't seem to mind. In fact, I quite think she found it to be a sensual aphrodisiac that fueled the fire in both of us. Her hands explored and unconsciously pleasured me, while my hips went wild and pleasured her.

I left little love nips with my teeth all over her body, claiming my territory. New territory. Man, Pedro is going to blow his top whenever he hears about this. Everyone is, probably, once it gets out on set.

"T-Taika~. Oh, fuck~," (Y/N) cried out and she pulsed and tightened around me. It made her start to thrust faster, giving her a burst of roughness.

"How close are you, love~?" I growl in her ear hotly. She only responded with hot moans and deep pants of my name. I needed an answer, so I smacked her ass roughly and massaged it by digging my fingers into it. She cried out sharply and moaned a weak, breathy, "Close~!"

"Good~," I groaned and bit down roughly on her skin again. I started thrusting faster and faster, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. I could feel it.

Oxygen became less and less of a priority the more we made love and the softer our actions became, all the way up to the peak and that's where our true feelings sparkled the most. I pressed my sweaty forehead against hers as she released on my six inch, then I had to pull it out and coat her thighs with my essence. I let my body sink and the only thing that filled the room was our soft pants of each other's names.

"Won't leave me hanging next time I try to kiss you again, right?" I hum softly and wink at her.

"Of course~," (Y/N) whispered back and made me smile as she leaned up and kissed me, her fingers curling into my hair.

What a woman...

[kylermalloy]

So, I'm curious, what is your favourite TO episode? If you are able to make a choice ;)

Oh, oh! This is one ‘favorites’ question I have no problem answering.

My favorite episode is and has always been the season 1 finale, “From a Cradle to a Grave.” Honestly, I think this is where the show peaked in its writing. I was on the edge of my seat the entire episode, just loving the excitement, the tension, the themes, and all the narrative threads coming together in one culminating, sweeping episode.

This episode is everything I love about the show. Murder, mayhem, and family :) But seriously! (Omg am I going to have to do a blow-by-blow of the episode? I think I might.)

In that case, the rest goes under a cut. (Spoilers for TO ahead!)

The episode begins with Hayley giving birth, induced by the witches who betrayed Klaus. It’s in the church, that unholy horror of a murder museum.

Intercut with the rose-tinted flashback of pregnant Hayley and Klaus feeling their baby kick, Hayley gives birth as her voiceover promises a safe home and family to “Zoe…or Caitlyn, or Angela.”

*irony* but it hurts.

Klaus and Hayley are, for once, united in the fight for their child. They’ve been at each others’ throats all season, and in the past neither have had trouble getting their way. But in this crucial hour neither the Original hybrid or the uncontrollable mama wolf can do anything.

Can I say: I love love LOVE that look Klaus and Hayley share after the baby is born. Hayley asks to hold her, and they share this…look. Listen, I’m not much of a klayley shipper, but their partnership is golden. They’ve reached a tentative agreement at this point that they’re both going to play a role in raising the baby they created. The trust and pride and satisfaction between them in this moment, despite the horrid circumstances, melts me.

And then Hayley dies.

Klaus screaming NOOOOOOO is all of us in this moment.

Oh! And I almost forgot—Klaus being pinned to the wall in that Christlike pose. That was NOT an accident. It helps tie in to the larger theme they’re going for, that Elijah expounds for us later. He’s not a sinless, perfect Christ figure—in fact, he’s the opposite. He’s the monster under the bed, the devil in the night. One might even go so far as to say he’s the symbol for everyone to pin their problems to. The ultimate scapegoat. Not to say he didn’t exert some effort of his own to get there—this is the price he has to pay for his sins. Crucified, figuratively, forced to watch helpless as his newborn daughter is taken from him and her mother slaughtered.

Then Elijah bursts in. (Bless Daniel Gillies’s funky lil run, it gives me joy in the bleakest of times)

And this, oh goodness, this quiet grief they share over Hayley. Klaus has held her body since he woke up, I’m guessing, this woman who carried his child, chafed against every controlling measure he tried to impose on her, whom he holds some degree of respect and fondness for.

And Elijah, dear Elijah. He pinned all his hopes (hee) to this woman, this werewolf Madonna and her child. He gave her more space in his heart than he’d given anyone, including women who’d haunted him for centuries. And now she’s dead, just like anyone who’s had the misfortune of sparking his affections.

Klaus healing Elijah—HEY REMEMBER EARLY IN THE SEASON WHEN KLAUS BIT ELIJAH AND LEFT HIM TO SUFFER?! Now, Klaus offers his blood without compunction, without hesitation. This time it’s Elijah who hesistates. You have to wonder, is he deliberating which nightmare he would prefer—the torture of wolf venom, or the torture of Hayley’s death and her baby’s disappearance?

“You were bested? My invincible brother?”

Klaus doesn’t rise to the bait like he normally would. He barely reacts. He’s broken. He wanted too much—he played king and gained the whole world, but lost his soul. And then his kingdom.

You see why I love this episode?

We move to the graveyard, where we see not only Klaus and Elijah trapped in a maze, but the witches preparing for a sacrifice. Let’s not gloss over their costume change, either—in the church, for the birth, they were all clad in black. But here, as they prepare for their worst atrocity yet, infanticide, they wear pure white, like they’re going to a christening or something. *irony*

Then comes *the speech* from Elijah, the one that mirrors the pilot so perfectly (I know them both by heart, thank you very much.) In the pilot, Elijah’s speech is rousing, patient, and encouraging. Here, he has lost his patience. Here, he tells us what we’ve been seeing throughout the entire season.

“This is the world you created, Niklaus. All your scheming, the enemies you have made every day do your miserable life—what results did you expect? That your child would be born into a happy life? That the mother would be alive, to know her daughter? That we could live and thrive as some sort of family?”

“That was your fantasy, brother, not mine—”

“No, brother! This was our hope. This was our family’s hope. And now she is gone.” (And then we realize that he’s not just mourning the baby, that family he imagined—he mourns Hayley.) “Do you understand? I let this person in. I let her in. I don’t let people in.”

And Klaus’s reaction! This Klaus, with compassion he deserves only for his closest family—this is the Klaus that melts me. This is the scene that slaps. This is how we tie a bow on a season—nay, a millennium—of brotherly tension. They’re not healed; nothing could truly heal the damage they’ve done to each other (or the damage others have wrought on them) but it’s a start.

And Hayley wakes.

Before I go on, let me mention Marcel. Ally, enemy, friend, surrogate son to Klaus (and that could be all in one episode!) He’s destined for death by hybrid venom, having led his vampires into a massacre. All his attempts to rally his people have failed. He’s lost the city, and his vampires have been slaughtered by Guerrera werewolves. He has almost nothing left.

He goes out, armed to forcibly obtain Klaus’s blood and heal his friends—but he upon finding Klaus he makes very on-brand choice. He saves the baby.

He does what the combined efforts of Klaus, Hayley, and Elijah can’t. He wins Klaus’s trust back by saving his newborn daughter. He protects the innocent instead of contributing to the feud. He murders the girl he once tried to save from the Harvest. And he gets to meet his baby sister.

It’s strategy and heart all in one. It’s very Marcel.

He reconciles with Klaus, and Klaus heals him. They are healed—to some degree.

Then Klaus gets to hold his child for the first time, and we all die.

This is what the season has been building up to. Yes, it’s been building to Klaus being toppled off his throne, yes it’s been building to the splintering of his ego, but THIS is what we’ve been promised since the beginning—before the beginning of the show, even. The Original hybrid, brought to his knees by this child. His child. Someone he loves without reservation. Someone who doesn’t fear him. Someone innocent, who carries none of the burdens of their family. Someone who inspires hope in the hopeless. Someone he would kill for, or die for. (he does both)

And I can’t, I just can’t with them. I love the way JoMo handles the baby in this episode—very gingerly, a little awkwardly. It’s probably been a long time since Klaus has handled a baby (one that he hasn’t eaten D: ) and it’s just. so. endearing.

Meanwhile, Davina has…brought Mikael the destroyer back to life? I remember reading somewhere that Josh was supposed to die in this episode, and while I wouldn’t dare wish to deprive Josh of the happiness (and subsequent heartbreak) awaiting him in s2 and beyond, I think Davina’s motivations would’ve made more sense here if she were seeking to avenge her friend’s death. But I digress. Davina resurrects Mikael. Oh dear.

I haven’t mentioned Genevieve yet! She is one of my favorite antagonists. At first, she seemed to come out of nowhere, and I suspect she might have stepped into the narrative hole that was originally filled by Sophie Deveraux, but regardless I like her conflict. A witch cheated out of life (by an Original, no less!) and coerced to murder by her coven, living and dead. An apologetic killer. Yikes.

Klaus and Elijah then discuss how to protect the baby (and I swear in the opening shot it looks like they’re holding hands—but alas, it’s just a trick of the camera angle.) and Hayley helps them determine that they need to send her away. And let me say, Phoebe Tonkin impressed me more with her acting in seasons 2-3, but she hurts me here too. Ouch.

We get a few expository scenes—Francesca spins the werewolf attack into a gang war (she’s not wrong), Marcel makes a deal, Oliver is still an arrogant brat, and Davina plans to keep Mikael as her secret weapon (you poor child).

Then we get the most painful scenes in the episode, because even though we know this tragedy is a lie, it’s still a loss. The baby did not die, but their pain over losing her is real. Elijah says as much: “grief, after all, is grief.”

Klaus and Cami share a scene, and this is one of my favorites of them. Klaus admits that he finds her…beautiful. And for that reason, she should stay away from him. Whether you read this as romantic or not, it’s still so good. This is a woman Klaus pinpointed as being useful, intelligent, insightful, and strong enough to handle his psyche. They began with a rather twisted relationship (let’s save that essay on autonomy for another day, shall we?) but by the end of the season they’ve shared some experiences and gained more sympathy and respect for each other. And Klaus, in his moment of clarity and grief, recognizes that he is fundamentally not what she needs. (Or we could say this is all part of the lie. We’ll never know.)

Also, let me give a shoutout to the music in this episode! The two songs that play toward the end, Open Hands and Shallows are stellar. Speaking of the end! Let’s get into the biggest surprise this episode has for us.

“In what world will she be safe without her father? Who can protect her better than we?”

“There is one person.”

Rebekah. The thousand-year-old beauty queen I honestly thought we’d never see again after her exit in episode 16. The Original sister, the girl who loved too easily, who broke her brother’s heart and incurred his wrath. Who left to live her own life, who only could leave after her favorite brother set her free. Who always wanted what she couldn’t have, a family of her own.

And here she is, smiling at Klaus even though last time they screamed themselves hoarse in a graveyard and he put an enchanted stake through her chest, inches from her heart. She loves and hates him in equal measure, but she has nothing but love for this newborn baby. It’s a peace offering and the ultimate gesture of faith. Klaus could not trust anyone else in the world with his daughter, but he will hand her over to his beloved sister. It is the PERFECT way to end the season, especially with their parting words. Rebekah wants to know the baby’s name.

“Hope. Her name is Hope.”

They’ve been planning this gimmick from day ONE, I’m telling you. Ever since the pilot, when Elijah asks, “who’s more pathetic—the man who sees hope to make his family whole again? Or the coward who only sees the world through his own fear?” And I don’t care how cliche and gimmicky it is—if I did, I wouldn’t be watching this CW show. It’s perfect. This is what the baby means. She is the hope for this broken, broken family. She’s no savior—she doesn’t have to do anything but exist. But she reminds these siblings who, after a thousand years of bloodshed and fighting, are “the definition of cursed—always and forever,” that they can be better. They don’t have to remain the shells of who they were. They can pick up the pieces and begin a new chapter.

And that’s what this episode does for me, folks. It’s honestly too much to handle. I cannot watch this episode like a normal person—I writhe and scream and laugh maniacally and recite the lines. It’s a trip.

This episode concludes the season so strongly. It’s actually a major part of why I rank season 1 as my favorite! I did an official ranking of all 5 TO seasons a while back, which was a lot of fun.

[zalrb]

Just watched Gossip Girl for the first time, and Blair and Chuck are the Damon and Elena of TVD. Don't get why people ship these types of relationships!? Why do you think toxic is so popular with ships?

Well I’m going to preface this by saying that I’ve always said I’m fine with toxic relationships where the ships don’t pretend to be anything else because when written properly, toxic relationships can be super fun to watch (and they can also be super fun to write) because it deals in extremes, right? Like extreme highs

and extreme lows

and tons of passion

and I get how that can be entertaining. For a time.

I shipped Chuck and Blair for the first two seasons because Leighton and Ed had great chemistry and their rollercoaster of a relationship was compelling to watch

they brought it to life, and their schemes and their games were reciprocal for the most part and I can see how they would be super fun to write.

I think, though, that it got away from the writers the minute Chuck pimps Blair out for a hotel and then gaslights her about his manipulation

and then after that they just went down this really weird, repetitive, not-fun road and in the end they doubled down on it.

But I do also think that toxic relationships are romanticized:

and, like, two or three seasons later:

and this speech, this realization could’ve been an arc and could’ve meant something if the show didn’t continue to romanticize this particular relationship but I find that there’s an idea that epic love equals pain.

And I also feel like sometimes writers mean to portray this, like, profound love but end up portraying toxic relationships, like Twilight, the whole thing is that Bella feels insecure and she’s just a normal girl and then this vampire who is supposed to be, like, this beautiful god of a teenage boy is obsessed with her. He is just consumed by her of all people, he needs to make sure she’s safe, he needs to know where she is at all times because he’ll just die without her and she’ll just die without him and it’s this crazy cosmic bond and it’s amazing.  Right. Except he’s breaking into her house “just to see her”, he’s dismantling her car so she won’t see another boy just because he “wants to keep her safe”, she loves him so much that her entire life is him and whole months go by where she does absolutely nothing and her life stops and she puts herself in dangerous situations tp hallucinate his voice. Now we’re going beyond profound love to serious codependency and toxic patterns. Even with Jacob. First he kisses her without her permission because he has to have her and then she breaks her hand trying to exert her own agency by punching him and then he extorts another kiss from her by threatening to essentially commit suicide if she doesn’t and then he goads her because she’s not kissing him the way he wants her to kiss him but it all stems from this idea that he, too, is another boy who just needs to go to these extreme lengths to have her in any way he can because he just loves her that much but the whole thing, all of the relationships are just terrible.

I remember talking to DErs who thought Stefan was so conceited and arrogant because a) he didn’t think Damon was a real threat to his relationship to Elena b) he says “you have me” when Elena says she’s has no one in 3x20 whereas Damon was so great because he was consistently insecure about his relationship to Elena since he knew she was so much better than him. And I was like, OK, barring all of the homicidal and predatory shit that Damon has done, I can see why in theory you think it’s great that this man is so worried about losing his girlfriend and is essentially like “ugh I’m a mere mortal dating a GODDESS” except that’s not how that really plays out. Damon being consistently insecure about his relationship with Elena means that she has to constantly stroke his ego and assure him. Damon being so insecure about his relationship with Elena means that when Elena seemingly confirms his insecurities, the first thing he does is kill her friend and kidnap her brother to be tortured when he had already killed her brother previously because she didn’t stroke his ego one night and he felt bad. Stefan, on the other hand, simply trusted Elena because trust is a cornerstone in a relationship and so he wasn’t worried about someone coming between them because he believed in the power of their love. Stefan also saying that Elena is someone he can count on is also just words of comfort.

[project-ohagi]

Giyuu Tomioka x Reader {Kimetsu No Yaiba}

"(Y/n)...?" It was unfortunate, but the greater the trembling of his voice, the more the ice encapsulating your heart thawed.

You wished to end his pitiful speech, but he continued, as if unaffected by the malicious glares he was receiving. "...What have you done? Did our relationship truly mean so little to you?"

"What relationship?" The man with the asymmetrical haori flinched, but maintained a steely determination.

Somewhere within that despicable demon...was the woman whose gentle heartstrings were his melody, and whose soft chest was very often his bed. His instincts allowed him to sense a desperation, as though your brain was attempting to convince your heart that this Hunter was a complete stranger...a threat - someone to be eliminated. If he could appeal to any last, fading glimmer of humanity, but...this was so, incredibly frustrating! Not only that, but winning you over initially had been no easy feat. Now, trying to conquer your heart a second time, when you seemed yearning to forget all the memories you had forged together...His own heart wept blood, and despite your lack of action, both agony and fatigue welled up inside him. Could he fall to the ground? Would that be acceptable? No matter what transpired within the next few moments, one core point rung, with a deafening certainty: slaying you simply wasn't an option.

The affection which chained his heart to yours, was something he would forever fail to quench.

He wasn't even prepared to raise a hand against you. And...if he was doomed to die from the very beginning, he would gladly accept the searing (but welcomed) pain of your claws. At least...it would be an escape from this deplorable reality. If your transformation had spirited away your recollections, and your love alongside them, well then...death sounded serene.

"I could never have loved a coward like you, Water Pillar." It was a harsh sentence, forced forward by your forked tongue, but it echoed a disturbing falsehood in your ear.

The shattering of his heart dulled every single nerve in his system. How would you utter such horrible lies?...They were lies, right? Those words must have marinated in deceit! It surely wasn't possible, to imagine that you had been leading him on, for the entirety of your relationship...right?

Right?

You understood all his flaws, all his insecurities, on an extremely personal level, and you had always showered him with love...with comfort. To him, your lap was warm, and felt like home - more so than his estate! When your lips connected, those mischievous butterflies fluttered around his body. His heart refused to lend any credibility to your utter lies...All this time, had he been the only party who was truly committed? He just...couldn't. Believing something so sickening...it threatened to fracture his very soul. When your presence was noted, bliss was the only emotion ever circling him, but lately, it had been partially-replaced with anxiety. That made this whole ordeal so much more torturous. Before this...before your inexplicable disappearance...before you were woefully reunited as human and demon, as enemies...he was on the verge of asking for your hand in marriage.

Marriage, for gods' sake!

He fully intended to spend the remainder of his life with you - to grow old with you. He supposed that was impossible now. For whatever reason, you had become an Upper Moon, and Giyuu...his job was to slaughter demons - to slaughter you.

Clicking your tongue, you observed this broken husk of a man, a light stabbing sensation briefly throwing you off balance. Yes, he radiated an ethereal beauty, and he appeared to possess a strange adoration towards you, but that was superficial.

You couldn't feel anything for him. This was a refusal. "How pathetic. Aren't you even going to try to kill me?"

"...I can't."

In the midst of this agonising despair, a solitary tear trickled down his cheek. The air suddenly grew heavy, stifling, until his hands wanted to grasp at his throat. Why did reality have to produce such cruel visions? During your absence, he had searched, and searched, until he collapsed from exhaustion. Otherwise, he hadn't permitted anything as trivial as sleep to encroach on his hunt. Some desperate faction of his heart longed to believe that you were still alive...still fighting. He promised himself that he would find you...that you would be returned safely, into his loving embrace. The hope dwindled with every passing day, and the walls which had been torn down by Tanjiro, were hastily reconstructed.

Your human and demon forms were completely separate entities, and so you neglected to remember the torture you had endured, thinking that Giyuu had abandoned the search...thinking that all his pining, all his affection...it was just an elaborate joke, designed to give him an ego-boost. Somehow, your heart comprehended the impossibility of him locating you. It was like...a really, really bad game of hide-and-seek, but instead of counting, Giyuu had simply run off, leaving you all alone. And...you weren't a Pillar - you couldn't even claim to be a Demon Hunter!

But, that wretched demon sovereign...he had complemented your natural skills, and eventually indoctrinated you into the higher ranks. A year slipped down the gutter, and you now stood as equals with the Upper Moons.

Giyuu had never once crossed your mind.

You sighed, softly, prompting Giyuu's ears to prick - that angelic symphony! The one unbefitting of a demonic creature! Perhaps...perhaps you were remembering him? Alas...fate spurned his hopeful glances. If this Demon Hunter didn't care to engage in a fight, then you would force his hand. Rushing forward, managing to catch him off-guard, you used your Demon Blood Art. In spite of his shock, Giyuu still successfully dodged. This melee of half-hearted tumbling and furious attacks lasted for quite a while. That was, until you made a crucial mistake. While pursuing victory, you had failed to notice his unsheathed sword. He didn't try to slash you, but the hilt caught your head, forcing you to the ground. It was an interesting situation, for now his blade was aimed directly at your throat.

You smirked, confident that he wouldn't exploit this sudden weakness.

Giyuu's gorgeous, ocean-blue irises widened, as he watched you caress the edge of his sword. When the dreaded words escaped your lips, he wanted to kiss you, just to stop the words, to stop the pain. But...he didn't. Although it splintered his heart, he understood that he no longer occupied a position by your side.

"Kill me."

In your previous incarnation, you never taunted him.

This thing was no longer the woman with whom he was infatuated. This wasn't his (Y/n).

Still...as his blade clattered to the floor, one, undeniable truth lingered: slaying you simply wasn't an option.

[juju-on-that-yeet]

Unravel, Chapter 13/20

Work Summary: Antisepticeye has a plan to destroy Darkiplier, steal his power, and take over everything - and he might just succeed. What starts with Yandereplier going missing evolves into a messy web of betrayal and grief, of blood and tears, of old wounds and new faces. However this ends, Ego Inc. will never be the same again. Chapter Summary: Anti invades Ego Inc. with a host of puppets to continue his reign of destruction. What little warning the egos receive beforehand may not be enough. Warnings: Major character death, blood, gore, body horror, intense grief

Read on AO3

Enjoy!

~

The first warning the egos get, the one that they know will be the last before Anti strikes, is an urgent message sent to the control room from another figment. No one but a figment could ever find Ego Inc. in the first place, and no one but a particularly intelligent figment could ever break through Ego Inc.’s firewalls to send a message.

Wilford is so angry to find out about the security breach – not the first one in recent memory, of course – that he nearly shoots Google until Google tells him what the message actually is: A transmission from none other than Professor Beauregard, straight from her laboratory. Wilford and the Googles watch the message before calling a meeting to share it with the others.

So Dr. Iplier finds himself sitting in a room filled with an all-too-familiar dread, surrounded by people who don’t trust him nearly as much as they did before. The Host is sitting beside him as has become typical, but the other egos are giving him as wide a berth as possible. Though there aren’t enough chairs at the table to fit every ego, the chair beside Dr. Iplier that Host isn’t in remains empty as the room fills with people. Yandere in particular is sitting as far away as he can, beside Damien of all people. Dr. Iplier still hasn’t spoken to Yandere after everything, and considering the glare Yandere shoots him, it’s probably a good thing that Dr. Iplier’s left him alone. He seems to be well-healed physically, at least, and Dr. Iplier is glad for it. It’s one of precious few things he has to be glad for right now.

This time there is no intro; the meeting alert had all the pertinent information. Once the room is full of egos, Wilford merely nods to Google, and the room’s TV flickers to life and reveals Professor Beauregrad, up close and clearly fiddling with the camera she’s filming herself with.

“It’s on? It’s on!” she says, “Okay.” She clears her throat and settles into a chair she’s placed a few feet away. She looks right into the camera. “I’ll keep this short. Anti is here in LA, and he’s on his way to Ego Inc. I’ve done the calculations, and though Anti is quite unpredictable, I’m nearly 97% certain that he will go after you all once he’s added the most powerful figments in the area to his…arsenal, I suppose one could call it. I’ve had other egos reach out to me about what’s happening, and it appears Anti is gathering an army of puppets. He already has all the Septics, and he definitely has more. He wants the most powerful players to destroy you with, and he’s gotten them.” Her speech is broken by a sudden loud bang, and she jumps before resuming. “Ugh, of course. Anyway, the rest of us are either too weak or too few to stop him. It’s going to have to be you.” Another series of bangs occurs, and Beauregard gets up and walks off-camera briefly, returning with a futuristic gun nearly as big as she is. She sets it on her lap as she sits, keeping one hand on the trigger. “I’ll do my best here, and I might be able to take down a couple people, but definitely not Anti.” She shakes her head. “How the hell did this happen, anyway? The stories I’ve heard…they seem impossible, but they have to be true. Sometimes science is believing what you can’t see.” A purple haze rises in the air, and Beauregard swears to herself, reaching to her left and grabbing something off a desk. She brings a gas mask into view, pulling it over her head and quickly tightening the straps. After a few cautious breaths, she returns her focus to the camera. “I hope you can still hear me. You can see Anti has Natemare, at least.” The lights flicker, and the sound of several different people laughing discordantly fills the air. “I’m sorry I’m not more helpful. At the very least, I doubt you’ll see me when Anti shows up. Other than my gadgets, I don’t have much he’d want.” Static stripes over the screen, and Beauregard sighs, eyes steely. “Of course, this message won’t even go through unless Anti wants it to. But I think he’ll let it, knowing him. He does love an audience. Just…stop him. Kill him. And, I hate to say it, but don’t be afraid to kill his puppets. Once Anti has all us figments in his hand…I can’t begin to calculate the damage he’d do to humanity. He absolutely cannot get that far, even if some of our own have to die.” Static clouds the screen over once again, so thick Beauregard can hardly be seen, and the audio becomes fuzzy. The egos can only barely see a figure appear behind Beauregard’s chair, only just make out black tendrils beginning to swarm her body. It’s the last frame they get before the footage is only static for several long moments. A voice is heard; a familiar, scratchy tone.

“Twenty-four hours. Be ready, Ipliers.”

A cackling, strangely echoing laugh, then silence.

The egos are silent in their horror. Dr. Iplier looks at Host, sees his downturned brow and tight jaw. Dr. Iplier can’t help but look at Yandere, too, and is alarmed to see Yandere staring intently at the screen. Damien notices too, and taps Yandere’s shoulder, concerned. Yandere shakes his head, as though snapping himself out of something, and looks back at Damien in a way that’s probably meant to be reassuring. This all happens to the ignorance of the other egos, who are still processing what they’ve just seen. Wilford is angry but calm, and when he speaks, his tone reflects it.

“That’s our warning. I’m willing to bet Anti’ll be showing up here tomorrow right when he said he will. He likes a challenge too much to sneak up on us. That means we need to figure out how to defeat him, and who will be fighting him, in less than twenty-four hours.” Wilford sits up a little straighter. “I’ll be a part of it, obviously. I might have a shot of pulling Dark’s aura away from Anti, but if Anti’s got an army, I need one, too.” He looks at Host, then Bim. “I expect help from the other two reality-benders in the room, at the very least.”

Host and Bim both nod. Dr. Iplier squeezes Host’s hand under the table. He can’t help but fear what could happen to Host in a fight like this, what Anti might do to him. But Host has no fear, and he squeezes Dr. Iplier’s hand back without looking in his direction. He’s clearly ready for a fight, and Dr. Iplier supposes that’s better than the alternative.

“Google,” Wilford continues, looking towards the android, “What about you? Other than me and Host and Bim, you’re the heaviest hitter we’ve got.”

“That is correct,” Google agrees, but he doesn’t get any further than that before his extensions jump in.

“But Google joining the battle would be unwise,” Plus interjects.

“If Anti is so much stronger than before, he could easily get into Google’s system,” Chrome points out.

“He could get hurt or killed,” Oliver insists, “Or Anti could make him hurt or kill somebody else!”

“Anti will not be the only combatant,” Google says, terse, turning in his seat to address the triplets. “I will focus my attention on someone who cannot possess me, and Anti will be preoccupied by, in all likelihood, Wilford.”

“He knows your command words,” Chrome snaps, “He’d have no problems with taking advantage of them if he had the need, or even the want.”

“I can alter my audio settings to block him out,” Google retorts, “Or mute my audio feed altogether if necessary. I do not need sound to fight.”

“Well, if you’re fighting, then we should too!” Oliver shouts.

Google blinks.

“That does not lower the risk,” Google deadpans. “If anything, it increases it.”

“We’re as strong as you are,” Plus says, standing straighter, “If Anti has an army, we need all the muscle we can get.”

“And like hell you’re doing this without us,” Chrome mutters.

Google stares at his brothers, and they stare back. For several long moments they don’t speak, but Dr. Iplier guesses they’re using their internal communication network to hash out their argument. All four androids are equally stubborn, and in the end, numbers win out, because eventually Google sighs and turns away from his brothers, looking at Wilford again.

“All four of us will be fighting,” Google states, clearly still annoyed. The triplets visibly relax.

“Alright,” Wilford nods, pleased. “I think that should be–”

“Me too!” yells a new voice.

Yandere.

The whole table whips around to gape at him, Dr. Iplier included. He should’ve expected this, he knows he should’ve, but it’s blindsided him all the same. After all the torment, all the sleepless nights and paranoia and isolation and fear and lies, after watching Yandere be tortured and getting him back after a month apart only to break his heart, Dr. Iplier can’t let Yandere get in danger again. He can feel his heart start pounding faster. He can’t let Anti hurt his boy, not again.

“What?” Wilford sputters. “Yanny, I know you’re tough, but–”

“I’m fighting too!” Yandere shouts, eyes blazing with determination and fiery anger. “I’m strong, I’m fully healed, and I know how to fight! You need more fighters, so let me fight, too!”

“Absolutely not!!” Dr. Iplier yells, standing from his seat. The other egos start to murmur, but Dr. Iplier ignores them. “If you think you’re going to fight Anti after he already spent a month torturing you, you are sorely mistaken!”

“You’re not the fucking boss of me!” Yandere screams back, jumping out of his own seat. “I can fight if I want to, and I want to!” Yandere’s eyes flash. “I want to make Guritchi pay for what he did to me, and to Yami!!”

“That’s exactly why you can’t fight,” Dr. Iplier says, voice low and authoritative, “You’re too emotionally invested to fight strategically, and Anti will take advantage of that.”

Before, that tone was enough to make Yandere cower. But now, Yandere only seems to get even more fired up.

“And whose fault is that?” Yandere spits, “Besides, didn’t someone make Guritchi promise not to hurt me in return for Yami’s fucking aura??”

“He promised not to kill you,” Dr. Iplier reminds him, “And that was only for when he had you in his cabin. You really think he’d leave you alone now?”

“Did you think he would when you had him make that promise?” Yandere bites back.

Dr. Iplier has no good answer. He closes his mouth, ashamed.

“Wil,” Yandere begs, turning away from Dr. Iplier to look at Wilford, “Let me join, please. I have to do this.”

Wilford frowns and considers. Dr. Iplier looks at him too, silently begging for him to refuse Yandere. But Wilford has always been overindulgent of Yandere, always spoiled him and given him his way, and Dr. Iplier fears he’ll do that again. Sure enough, Wilford eventually sighs, relenting.

“Fine,” he says, “You can fight, but you better keep your head, got it?”

Yandere nods, and Dr. Iplier sighs shakily. Both sit down, and Yandere refuses to meet Dr. Iplier’s eyes. Dr. Iplier leans against Host, emotionally exhausted.

“Do we need anymore?” Wilford asks no one in particular, “I always say the more the merrier, but…”

“This is a good amount,” Host pipes up, “Any more participants risks the fight becoming too hectic. We must also consider where the egos who cannot fight will stay. If they are out in the open or near the fight, they will surely be killed.” Host represses a shudder; Dr. Iplier can just barely feel it. “The Host has seen it happen.”

“They’ll have to hide somewhere,” Bim murmurs thoughtfully, “But where?”

“…Perhaps in the clinic?” offers Damien. “Celine is already there, and if any of us are hurt, we’ll be right there.”

It’s an effort to speak up again, but Dr. Iplier makes it.

“That won’t work,” he says, unable to put any energy in his voice, “There’s no area or room big enough to hold everyone, and if any of Anti’s puppets follow you in, they could end up destroying medical supplies or breaking equipment. We’ll definitely need those after this fight.”

The egos consider.

“Wilford’s studio,” Oliver suggests, “It’s pretty big, and if all the filming stuff is put away somewhere else, it’ll be pretty empty, too. Celine can be moved in there easily, since it’s on the same floor as the clinic.”

“That works,” Wilford agrees, “But Doc, what was that about…about a puppet following them?”

The egos look at Dr. Iplier, wary but not hostile.

“There’s a chance Anti might send a puppet or two after the others,” Dr. Iplier explains, “If his goal is to take the powerful ones and kill the weaker ones, and he’s gotten so much stronger, then…I don’t see why he’d wait until he’d already done the former to do the latter.”

The other egos switch their gaze to Host, searching for confirmation. Even without sight, Host can perceive their stares.

“That is a possibility,” he confirms. “The Host has seen that happen as well.”

Another pause, a bit longer this time. No one wants to imagine the weaker egos getting slaughtered, least of all those egos.

“Someone’s gonna have to protect them,” Wilford muses.

A third pause. Bing of all people is the one to break the silence.

“Well, if I’m not gonna be fighting, like, actively,” Bing says, “I could be the one to watch out for us, right?”

“You? Please,” Google scoffs.

“I’m as tough as you are!” Bing huffs. “We’re both super-strong androids, aren’t we? If you can fight then I can protect the others!”

“Me too,” Silver Shepherd pipes up, voice quiet but steady. “I’m strong, I know how to fight, and…protecting people is what I do.” He looks at Bing. “The two of us can keep the others safe.”

Wilford seems skeptical.

“Me too, aye?” Captain Magnum suddenly says. Illinois and Yancy, who are standing beside him, give him incredulous looks. “If ye haven’t noticed, I’ve got quite a bit of meat on me bones, and some hardiness from me years on the sea. Oh, and this beauty.” He unholsters a heavy, mean-looking flintlock pistol. The other egos can’t help but stare.

“Hell no!” Wilford shouts, “You’re way too young of an ego, it’s too risky!” Magnum frowns and sadly puts away his pistol as Wilford thinks for a moment and sighs. “Silver and Bing are really all I’ve got, huh? Alright, fine.”

“Wow, thanks for, like, the vote of confidence, bossman,” Bing gripes. Silver doesn’t speak, but looks resigned.

“What happens if someone gets hurt?” Bim brings up. “If Anti or one his puppets badly hurts someone, and it can’t wait until the fight is over? Dr. Iplier would have to help them, but he can’t be in two places at once.”

“Well…” Dr. Iplier begins, thinking out loud, “Wilford is the only one of us who can teleport. So if someone got hurt and I wasn’t there, I wouldn’t be able to get there anytime quickly without him. Meaning that it would make the most sense for me to be where he is.”

Yandere scoffs. Wilford also seems doubtful, but Dr. Iplier meets his gaze evenly.

“Couldn’t you just as easily stay with the others?” Wilford asks, “If someone in the fight needs you, we could contact you and I’ll go get you.”

“That’s an extra step during which someone could be bleeding out,” Dr. Iplier replies, “And I’d imagine the most severe injuries would happen in the main fight. If the others needed me, Silver has his communicator, and he could contact me directly.”

Silver seems heartened by someone showing faith in him, and Wilford thinks for a long moment.

“Fair enough,” he says, “That means you’re with us, then. And we know how we’ll keep in contact, so that covers planning for the fight. As for the fight itself…”

“It is possible for us to take back Dark’s aura in this fight,” Host says, “But it will require The Host, Bim, and Wilford working together. Anti will also need to be weakened before we can remove the aura from him, but not killed.”

“Not killed?” Wilford asks, disappointed.

“The reason why is unclear,” Host explains, “But The Host believes that the aura will cling much tighter to Anti if he is killed, the same way it has done to Dark when he has been killed in the past. The Host has seen futures in which we have killed Anti but been unable to retrieve Dark’s aura before he wakes.”

“We have The Cell,” Google points out, “Don’t we put him in there?”

“He always escapes,” Host says quietly, “And the futures resulting from that outcome are the worst of them all.”

Everyone is silent for many moments after that.

“Alright, I think this meeting is over,” Wilford sighs, “Host and Bim, stay here so we can talk more about strategy. Google, you and your brothers clear all the equipment out of my studio for tomorrow. Everyone else, just…get ready.”

For once, the meeting ends in silence. Everyone walks out of the room in a daze, like none of them can believe what’s happening. Dr. Iplier can hardly believe it either. Somehow it’s not the thought of being so close to the action that scares him, but the thought of those he loves being in the thick of it, of being in the most danger. He gets up to leave, and Host stays in his seat as Wilford ordered. Dr. Iplier leans down to kiss Host, and Host whispers a narration to meet his lips. There’s no need for anything else to be said. Dr. Iplier is one of the last to exit the meeting room, and instead of returning to his clinic to check on Celine or prepare a medical kit for tomorrow, he heads a few floors higher.

He knows Yandere won’t be happy to see him tomorrow. He knows better than to try to talk to Yandere right before the fight, to distract him even more than Yandere’s own rage will. But he has to speak to him. He can’t leave things unsaid between them, not before something so huge.

Still, it takes him nearly a minute to work up the courage to knock on Yandere’s door.

“Who is it?” Yandere asks, pleasant but not happy.

“It’s me, Yan,” Dr. Iplier says. He has to stop himself from calling Yandere “kid” or “love” or “son.” “Can you please let me in?”

“No,” Yandere responds immediately, “Go away.”

“Can we at least talk? Tomorrow’s going to be insane, to say the least, and I just–”

“I don’t want to hear it. I don’t care.”

“All I want to say is that…is that I love you. No matter what happens, I love you. And I want you to be careful tomorrow. Please just let the reality-benders take care of Anti.”

A pause from the other side of the door. Dr. Iplier is beginning to wonder if Yandere has decided to ignore him when he finally speaks.

“You know that topaz necklace that Yami gave me for my first birthday?”

“Yes…What does–”

“Did you know I wear it? All the time? Under my shirt, usually, so it doesn’t get scratched or broken, but I always have it on during the day. Or if I’m gonna fight someone, I have a little case I put it in, and I can keep it there so it doesn’t get dirty. It’s got…” Yandere’s voice wobbles. “It’s got blood on it from…from when I was with Guritchi. I don’t know if he ever noticed my necklace, maybe he didn’t care, or he didn’t know what it means to me. He didn’t take it or try to break it. But it’s got blood on the chain now that still won’t come out.”

“Yan…” Dr. Iplier’s heart aches for his boy, for the hurt his little one’s gone through.

“While you were killing Yami, Guritchi was getting blood on the best present Yami ever gave me.” Yandere starts to whimper. “He ruined everything and you helped him. I’m never going to forgive you.”

Again, Dr. Iplier should’ve known. He should’ve expected this. But it still spears his heart right through with despair.

“I still love you,” he whispers, voice shaky, “I’m always going to love you. Please be safe tomorrow.”

“Whatever.” Yandere’s tone is cold and angry.

Once again, there’s no need to say anything more. There’s nothing more for Dr. Iplier to say. He walks away from Yandere’s door with a heavy heart, returns to his clinic to check on Celine and make a med kit in a haze.

In the evening, Host comes in needing a bandage change. But Dr. Iplier suspects he would’ve come in regardless of his bandages. After Dr. Iplier does it, Host doesn’t say anything, just puts his arms around Dr. Iplier, holds him close. As much as Dr. Iplier needs it, as much as he melts into Host’s arms, he can tell by the way he’s being held that Host is seeking comfort, too.

“You scared, too?” he asks, quiet and sad.

“Yes,” Host admits, “There are so many ways tomorrow could go. I can’t tire myself searching for the most likely possibility so soon before the fight. For lack of a better phrase, I…I’m going in blind.”

If the situation were less dire and Dr. Iplier less upset, he’d chuckle a little. Instead, he huddles himself closer to Host, holds on tighter.

“I’m worried for you,” Dr. Iplier murmurs, “And I’m worried for Yandere, too. He’s so reckless, and he’s so full of anger right now, I just know he’s going to do something he shouldn’t.”

“What about you?” Host retorts, “You’re going to be right next to this fight. There are futures where you’re hurt.” He squeezes so tight it almost hurts. “There are futures where I lose you. Anti would love to kill the person who takes care of us all.”

“I’ll be careful,” Dr. Iplier replies, “As careful as I can be while still helping those who need it. And you and the others will be keeping Anti busy.”

There’s a long moment of silence that Host breaks.

“Someone will get hurt,” he says darkly, “At least one person will be badly hurt, and one of us may die, whether it’s someone fighting or one of the weaker egos. Even if we defeat Anti, we won’t come out unscathed. That is the only certainty.”

That chilling “if” makes Dr. Iplier’s blood run cold. He can think of nothing to say.

He and Host sleep together in Dr. Iplier’s bed that night, clinging to each other like they’ll never get another chance. Dr. Iplier keeps wanting to look at Host’s time of death, at those numbers over his head showing how long he has to live, but he’s too afraid. He doesn’t know what he’d do if Host’s time is short, if the numbers are red, if his fate is sealed and imminent.

Instead, despite having Host there beside him, Dr. Iplier falls into an uneasy, fitful sleep.

~~~

The next morning, a few hours before Anti’s twenty-four hour time limit is set to end, the weaker egos are ushered into the studio by Silver and Bing. The egos are a sea of scared faces, even the more stoic among them are clearly nervous about what’s to come. The only snag occurs when the Jims hug Bim goodbye and refuse to let him go, resulting in Silver and Bing each having to pry a Jim away and carry him off (and in Oliver having to console a now-distraught Bim). Plus helps Dr. Iplier move Celine onto a stretcher, but Damien insists on helping him transport Celine into the studio. He’s calmer than Dr. Iplier would’ve expected, but he’s still a shade paler than normal and his hands shake slightly. He hugs Wilford goodbye, and Wilford hugs back like he, too, doesn’t want to let go. Before long, Wilford is teleporting the group of fighters to the lobby of the building – a space that’s wide and high-ceilinged and big enough for a fight – to await Anti’s arrival.

Dr. Iplier looks around himself. He’s a bit behind the others, out of the line of fire, but he can see enough of them from where he is to know how everyone feels. The Googles stand together, all silent and stoic, even Oliver. Despite being physically identical, they’ve never looked as similar as they do now. Bim has recovered from his moment with the Jims, and his jaw is set, his hands already glow a soft purple. Yandere’s eyes are already blazing red and his fingers are twitching, ready to grab his katana and swing. Host is practically a statue, not even narrating as he stands, sightless gaze pointed ahead and one hand holding his baseball bat. Wilford is vibrating, just as angry as Yandere but as calm as everyone else, hands clenched in fists, ready to beat Anti into submission. As badly as Yandere wants to get his hands on Anti, Dr. Iplier can’t imagine anyone who wants to destroy Anti right now more than Wilford.

Finally, after forever and not long enough, Anti arrives. He teleports to the front of the lobby not in a glitch, but in a puff of smoke, and Dr. Iplier can immediately see the influence Dark’s aura has had on him.

Last time he saw Anti, the aura was coiling around him, interested but not yet integrated. Now, Anti is surrounded in the dark smoke, his skin greenish-gray, his glitches more measured, more controlled, slower, just like Dark’s were. Figments can feel power, and even being across the room from Anti makes Dr. Iplier want to flinch and hide. He’s as sharp-toothed as ever, though, just as long-clawed, just as arrogant and self-assured. He’s grinning like he’s already won, but he’s alone.

“Anti,” Wilford says, low and tense.

“Glad to see you brought the welcoming committee,” Anti teases, looking over the group. His eyebrows raise when his eyes fall on Yandere. “I’m surprised they let you come along, gaki.”

Yandere’s cheeks turn red, and Dr. Iplier can see him puff up in anger like an angry cat. By some miracle, he refrains from charging at Anti, but trembles with the effort of holding himself back.

“If it’s just you…” Wilford drawls, cracking his knuckles.

“Oh no,” Anti laughs, “I just wanted to see what I’m working with here. You know, teleporting around is so much easier now! I can go wherever I’ve been, and wherever Dark’s been! And I don’t need to go through technology to do it. I don’t know why Dark ever walked anywhere.” He poofs away for a long moment, and when he returns, he has company. “I think this should be good enough.”

Other egos, enough for a true battle. All the Septics are there, even Jackieboy Man, all of them with a slight gray tint to their skin, all of them with deep eye bags, all of them glaring and ready for a fight. Dr. Iplier’s heart sinks to see Henrik among them, scalpel in hand and glaring mercilessly. He looks over and sees Bim visibly disheartened at the sight of Marvin, and Host clenching his jaw tighter to see Jameson back under Anti’s control. But it’s not just the Septics Anti’s showed up with. Peevils is there, smirking almost like Anti is. MadPat’s burnt and scarred face is split in a wide grin, both hands holding his chainsaw – reinforced with a flamethrower attachment – aloft. Phantom and Natemare stand beside each other, Phantom’s scepter glowing with power and Natemare surrounded by his own purple smoke. Anti turns to him with a smile.

“Go find out where the other Ipliers are hiding,” he says, “Give them a little “hello” from me.” Natemare grins and vanishes in a puff of purple.

All the Ipliers are unnerved. If Natemare finds the other egos, his fear smoke will get in their heads, terrify them into submission, and maybe even make them turn on each other in fear. Not only that, but the smoke itself is toxic, and if anyone breathes it in for too long they’re as good as dead. The studio is a large room with high ceilings, but even that might not be enough to disperse the smoke. There’s not much time to ponder it, though, because Anti rolls his neck in an all-too-familiar gesture and beckons the egos forward.

“Who wants some?” he cackles gleefully.

No one wastes any time.

Wilford launches forward, straight for Anti. Anti merely flicks his wrist, a cue to Jackie that sends him barreling into Wilford, intercepting him. Yandere can’t contain himself anymore and charges with a scream. Anti doesn’t flinch, only sends Phantom after him. Yandere brings his katana down on Phantom’s scepter instead of Anti’s head. Bim and Host move forward, Anti sends Marvin and Jameson to meet them. Peevils rushes Google, spiky insect limbs springing from her sides, wings from her back, and mandibles from her mouth. Robbie lumbers for Chrome with a feral roar, MadPat giggles wildly and flings himself at Plus, swinging his chainsaw around. Finally, Chase and Henrik circle Oliver, Chase with his handgun and Henrik with his scalpel. Dr. Iplier runs to the back of the room, both to get out of harm’s way and to observe everyone at once, to keep an eye out for injuries.

Dr. Iplier can’t help but admit that Anti planned this out well. Each combatant is suited to their opponent, organized in just the right way to be the toughest fight. Jackie is the only Septic strong enough to block Wilford’s punches, and his ability to fly even gives him an advantage. Wilford and Jackie constantly pop in and out of reality as Wilford tries to use his void to disorient Jackie, but Jackie continues going after Wilford with single-minded drive to kill. Their fighting is brutal, heavy punches and fierce jabs. Wilford is still stronger but Jackie is quicker, and they tumble through the air, evenly matched.

Bim faces off Marvin with reluctance; the pair are normally friends, and Dr. Iplier has no doubt that Anti knows. They fling magic at each other, Bim’s bright purple against Marvin’s electric green, again and again. Bim doesn’t want to kill Marvin, but Marvin has no such qualms about killing Bim. When blasts do connect with flesh, they send one person tumbling over the floor, and the other rushing to deliver a second blow. But both spring up as fast as they’re knocked down, and their fight continues on.

It’s Host and Jameson’s fight that takes the most of Dr. Iplier’s attention, however. He’s too far away to hear what Host is saying, but he can see his mouth moving a mile a minute with narrations, matching Jameson’s curled fists with his own baseball bat every time. Jameson fights with a grin on his face, eyes glowing silver, pocket watch in hand. Several times Jameson goes to wind his pocket watch and Host cracks his bat down on Jameson’s hand to stop him. Dr. Iplier wonders how many times Jameson has reversed time during the fight, how many seconds he’s taken back for his own advantage. He wonders if Host knows. Both men fight like ghosts, weaving around each other, careful and searching for openings.

The Googles are still near each other as they fight, but each one has their own battle to focus on. Peevils is in her true, terrifying form. She flies above Google on iridescent wings, jabs at him with the long spiny limbs at her waist, grabs and pulls with her black tentacles, even threatens to bite down with her mandibles. Google shows no fear, meeting her tentacles and crushing them in his fists, barely flinching when he’s stabbed with her spines. Both of them are already bleeding, but neither seem to care. Robbie relentlessly bears down on Chrome, dragging his nails down his arms and chest and biting down whenever he gets close enough. Chrome hits back, punches and holds Robbie’s jaws away, but Robbie barely feels the blows. Dr. Iplier watches Chrome pull off Robbie’s arm only for the limb’s hand to claw three lines down Chrome’s cheek, distracting him enough for Robbie to grab his arm back and quickly reattach it before launching himself at Chrome yet again. Plus dodges swings from MadPat’s chainsaw, bends out of the way of each spurt of fire. MadPat tries to get closer, but Plus always edges away, to the back or to the side, careful not to get cornered. Neither seems able to land a single blow, both locked in stalemate until one of them eventually trips up, but Dr. Iplier can’t tell who will break first. He’d have thought that Oliver would have an easy time against Chase and Henrik, the only Septics without any special abilities or strength, but he finds he’s mistaken. Oliver is afraid to hurt them, but the pair of them are ready to kill. He dodges bullets from Chase’s gun and swipes of Henrik’s scalpel, and when he finally gets openings to fight back, they block his blows with surprising strength or jump away with surprising speed. If Oliver goes for one, the other provides distraction. So far, Oliver’s injuries are few and minor, but Chase and Henrik are unscathed.

Yandere and Phantom are a study in contrast as they spar against each other. Yandere has brute force and the downswing of his katana, and Phantom has magic and bursts of energy from his scepter. Though he’s not above using the sceptor to block Yandere’s blows or swing it at Yandere’s head while Yandere’s distracted by a magic blast. But Yandere is relentless and much faster than Phantom, dodging many of Phantom’s blows and landing plenty of his own. Both of them take punishing hits, but neither are ready to give up.

Presiding over it all is Anti. He doesn’t fight, merely watches his puppets do the work for him. He grins as he watches the carnage, the fights happening throughout the lobby. With so many battles, he can always find a puppet with the upper hand, always find a battle his team is winning. He meets eyes with Dr. Iplier from across the room, and Dr. Iplier jolts in terror. But Anti only smiles at him and winks before continuing to look over the scene.

By now, Natemare must’ve found the other egos. The building is large, but it’s not infinite. Dr. Iplier can only hope that Silver and Bing are strong enough to stop him before he causes irreparable damage.

~~~

Silver and Bing stand guard at the front of the studio and wait, tense and ready to fight, as the other egos huddle away and hide throughout the room.

Well, Silver is ready to fight. Bing is nervous, he can tell, but Silver tries to keep enough confidence for them both. He’s taken charge of the others so far, having the other egos spread out to keep them safer, stationing himself and Bing at the only entrance to head off whatever threat Anti sends their way. Silver knows Anti himself wouldn’t bother with them, and he doubts that Anti would send his strongest puppets after them, either. Anti is overconfident, and Silver is quite used to being underestimated.

Still, he has to send somebody. Silver doubts he’d just let them wait until he’s defeated the main fighters. Anti loves to cause suffering and incite chaos, and this is merely another opportunity to do so.

So Silver waits, standing next to Bing, and offers him a smile.

“You doing alright?” he asks.

“Not really, bro,” Bing laughs nervously, “I’m totally freaking out, tbh.”

Silver is a bit thrown off by the spoken acronym, but shrugs it off to respond.

“Hey, we can do this. I’m here with you, and I know you know how to fight.” Silver pauses. “You were right yesterday, you know. You are an android, too, and you are tough.”

“You think so?” Bing noticeably perks up.

“Of course! We’ll get through this.”

Bing is three years younger than Silver, a huge difference for figments. Silver is used to fighting evil, used to putting everything on the line to protect others, and Bing isn’t. Bing has bravery in him, though, he has kindness in him, he has the right attitude to be a hero. But he’s practically a kid. Silver has to wonder if he volunteered out of feeling inadequate, if he saw the other Googles being allowed to fight and felt like he wasn’t good enough. It’s not the best motivation to help others, but Silver can’t help but understand. He certainly knows how it is to feel inadequate. Whatever happens, Silver decides, he’s going to make sure everyone makes it out of this alive, Bing included. No matter what it takes.

Suddenly, Silver’s super-hearing picks up on something different, something strange. Bing’s mechanically-enhanced hearing picks it up, too; Silver can tell by the way he jumps.

“What is that?” Bing asks in a tense whisper.

“Don’t know,” Silver answers, “But I think we’re about to find out.”

The sound is like hissing, not like an animal, but like air escaping a container. The hissing gets closer. From under the door to enter the studio, wisps of purple smoke curl across the floor.

Silver knows instantly who they’re dealing with, and from the look on his face, so does Bing. Of course it’s Natemare. Who else could dispatch such a large group of people as fast as possible?

“How long can you hold your breath?” Silver asks Bing as the smoke touches their feet.

“Not much longer than a normal human, dude,” Bing admits.

Mare appears before them in a poof of smoke, dark-rimmed eyes sizing them up.

“This’ll be easy,” he says, smirking.

“You hope,” Silver mutters, stepping back into a fighting stance and taking a deep breath in. Bing follows suit, and the fight is on.

They don’t have any audience, the other egos are all tucked out of harm’s way at the back of the studio. There isn’t any studio equipment in the way of the fight; it was all moved yesterday. In some ways, it’s easier to fight like this than it is to fight criminals in the street, where pedestrians can gawk and criminals can throw trashcans in Silver’s way or leap over park benches. There’s also plenty of room for Silver to fly, and he doesn’t have to worry about attracting the attention of passersby and drawing them into danger.

But none of these things help much. Silver’s never had to fight without breathing before, and it’s even harder than he would’ve guessed. Mare fully understands what Silver and Bing are trying to do, and fights to get them to draw breath. He throws smoke in their faces, his punches aim for the gut. But Bing and Silver are hitting back. Mare sometimes dodges in a puff of smoke, but Silver quickly figures out what direction he tends to dodge in, and is ready to meet him with a crack across the face every time he becomes tangible again.

Silver finds, though, that he desperately needs to breathe again. Bing seems to be faring better, whether he still has air left or has already snuck a breath under Mare’s nose. Mare can see Silver’s desperation, and hits on him harder. He moves like his smoke does, flowing over the floor and stopping in front of Silver to punch him in the stomach. Silver grunts, more air lost, but keeps his mouth shut. He swings out and manages to connect with the side of Mare’s neck, but it’s not enough to stop Mare from sending a plume of smoke into Silver’s face. The purple clouds his vision and the toxicity makes his eyes water.

All at once, Mare buckles. It takes Silver a moment to realize that Bing has kicked the back of both of his knees, one after the other, and shoved him bodily down by his head.

“Breathe, dude, I got this!” Bing shouts.

Silver backs up, smoke still in his eyes, hands waving away the cloud. He hears Bing grunt in pain, and clears his eyes in time to see Mare buck himself up, headbutting Bing’s neck. Bing gags and draws back without thinking, and Mare poofs himself back to standing. Silver finally, finally breathes, and takes in a long gasp of air as Mare kicks Bing across the face, sending him sprawling.

Silver can see in Bing’s face that he’s now the one about to run out of air, and even if he couldn’t, he can hear Bing’s fans whirring desperately as he overheats. Bing doesn’t need air for his lungs, he needs it to keep himself cool, and if he gets too hot, he could be badly damaged. Silver rushes forward as Mare plants a foot down on Bing’s chest, keeping him on the ground as he struggles. But Mare sees him out of the corner of his eye and meets him with a block of smoke, thick enough to be tangible, that slams into his chest and shoves him back, nearly toppling him over. Mare grins down at Bing, smoke curling around his fingers, ready to force Bing to breathe it in.

Bing glares at him, grabs at Mare’s leg on his chest, shoves up the pant leg, and wraps his hands around the bare skin.

Mare’s expression goes from confusion to shock to pain in a matter of seconds, and he howls, stepping back and trying to kick Bing off. A grin touches Bing’s agonized grimace and he holds fast as his overheated, metallic hands burn into Mare’s skin. While he’s distracted, Bing takes deep breaths, and once Mare seems to be getting used to the pain, Silver rushes him from behind and throws him bodily off of Bing. He catches a glimpse of Mare’s leg, which is badly burnt, at least to the second degree. Mare growls as he gets up from being shoved, and Silver keeps his eyes on him as he offers a hand to Bing to help him up. Mare limps, unable to bear much weight on the leg, but he charges forward, unwilling to give up.

The fight continues, one breath at a time.

Silver wonders how everyone downstairs is doing.

~~~

It takes a minute, but Dr. Iplier eventually figures out why Anti isn’t fighting.

Anti would very much like to join in on the carnage if his hungry gaze is any indication. Yet he continues to preside over the fight, much in the way Dr. Iplier is. But while Dr. Iplier is keeping an eye on the other egos, tracking their injuries and preparing to pull someone away to help them, Anti is doing something else. He’s not just watching the fight, he’s controlling it.

Dark’s aura isn’t behaving the way it did when Dark had it. Dark was never one for possession, not the way Anti is. The aura mimics Anti’s control over his puppets in more ways than the gray tinge to their skin. The aura is actively making them stronger, faster. It’s most obvious with Chase and Henrik: Even against the nicest Google, they shouldn’t have stood a chance. Yet they’re holding their own and evading Oliver’s punches with seeming ease. Dr. Iplier can’t speak much for Chase, but not even during the most dire emergencies has he seen Henrik move so fast, never has he seen him exhibit such physical strength. But Anti isn’t just feeding his puppets power, he’s carefully calculating who’s winning, who’s holding ground, and who’s beginning to slip. Whenever an Iplier is about to land a devastating attack on a puppet, Anti sends Chase or Henrik launching in front of the puppet with a flick of his hand. Each of them function as human shields: Despite the power the aura has given them, they’re still the weakest figments in the room, and even the most determined egos don’t want to kill them.

At one point, Google manages to stun Peevils, and it looks like he might have an opening to kill her. But as he brings his fist forward, Anti sends Henrik jumping into his path. Google’s eyes widen in surprise, and he readjusts, using his momentum to shove Henrik away before closing in on Peevils. But the extra moment is all Peevils needs to recover, and by the time Google’s in front of her she’s ready to block his hit and fight back. Then, Host nearly cracks his bat over Jameson’s head, but Chase gets in the way and breaks Host’s concentration, letting Jameson slip out of the way and resume his fight. When these little confrontations end, they always go right back to Oliver. Between the two of them, Oliver never gets a spare moment.

There’s one fight that Anti doesn’t send Chase and Henrik to interfere in though, and that fight is between Phantom and Yandere. Perhaps Anti knows that Yandere would gladly cut Chase and Henrik down to win the battle and get Dark’s aura back. But in turn, it means that Yandere is steadily but surely gaining the upper hand. Phantom may have magic, but Yandere is quick and relentless. His eyes blaze so bright they almost glow, his hands flex where they grasp his katana’s hilt, his mouth is set in a permanent snarl. There’s cuts and bruises on his skin from Phantom’s scepter and holes burned into his shirt from Phantom’s magic, but none of it seems to faze him. Phantom, meanwhile, is appearing to tire from the various gashes crossing over his skin, not to mention the bruises on his jaw from the moments Yandere got close enough to punch. He can’t keep up with Yandere anymore, and before long Yandere gets an opening.

From across the room, Dr. Iplier watches Yandere thrust his katana forward. By some miracle, he stabs through Phantom’s shoulder instead of his heart. As far away as he is, Dr. Iplier can hear Phantom’s scapula crack and split apart, and he has no doubt that the whole room can hear his howl of agony. Yandere doesn’t even pause to enjoy his victory; he only pulls his katana from Phantom’s shoulder and pushes him aside. As Phantom falls, clutching his shoulder as it bleeds, Yandere runs for Anti.

Before Dr. Iplier can act on the panic that rises in his chest, he hears a bang and a gasping cry from much closer by.

It’s Oliver, staggering backwards with a hand pressed on his chest, just above his core.

From across the room, Anti grins and winks at Dr. Iplier. And Dr. Iplier’s heart sinks, because he can’t stop Yandere and help Oliver at the same time. The frenetic pace of the fight makes Dr. Iplier’s choice for him.

Chase lowers his gun as Henrik comes behind Oliver, ready to slice his throat with his scalpel while he’s distracted. But he doesn’t get the chance; Google is suddenly there, jumping between them, and Oliver’s back hits Google’s with a grunt. Peevils is close behind following Google, but Google grabs Henrik by his lab coat and throws him into Peevils’s path. Henrik collides with her and the pair tumble to the ground in a tangle. Chase raises his gun again and Google pivots, turning to face him and nudging Oliver to follow the turn. The next bullet hits Google’s raised arm instead of Oliver’s head, and Google hardly flinches, instead looking over his shoulder at Dr. Iplier.

“Iplier, get Oliver!” Google shouts, and Dr. Iplier doesn’t have to be told twice. With Henrik out of the way and Oliver turned around, there’s nothing to stop Dr. Iplier from rushing forward to take Oliver’s arm and help him away from the fight. Just in time, too, for Henrik and Peevils are up again and rushing for Google as Dr. Iplier gets Oliver out of the line of fire. He doesn’t see what happens next, he’s busy helping Oliver lay down and evaluating his injury.

Dr. Iplier isn’t a mechanic, but the androids are very similar to humans in most medical respects, and he knows enough for quick patches and emergency fixes. Chase’s bullet luckily didn’t hit Oliver’s core, but it’s too close for comfort. With the way his internal machinery works, the bullet could nick the top of Oliver’s core if Dr. Iplier doesn’t remove it and quickly solder the wound closed. He has the tools to do it, and it won’t take long, but…

He looks up to the front of the room, to Yandere approaching Anti, and Anti meeting him with a grin and a gleeful laugh.

But Oliver coughs from the ground, and Dr. Iplier knows what he has to do. He opens his medical kit and pulls out the tools he needs.

“This is going to hurt,” Dr. Iplier warns Oliver, “Sorry in advance.”

“Please don’t get hurt,” Dr. Iplier internally begs Yandere, “Please don’t get hurt.”

~~~

The longer Silver and Bing fight, the harder it becomes to keep from breathing in Mare’s toxic smoke. Mare seems to realize this, for despite his burned leg slowing him down, he can’t keep a smirk off his face as he battles Silver and Bing.

Bing recovers from his near-overheating quickly, but it keeps happening, over and over. He keeps having to hold his breath for almost too long, and Silver knows that can’t be good for his hardware. Every time he regains his breath, he’s a little bit slower, his movements seem to take a little more effort. Bing is flagging, and if Silver is being honest, so is he. He feels perpetually out of breath, and even the clean gasps he manages to take in aren’t enough. Somehow he has to concentrate on his breathing and his fighting at the same time, and it’s getting harder by the moment. He and Bing are still landing hits, but the hits are weaker, and Mare has the advantage of not having to fear the smoke.

Finally, Mare punches Bing in the gut so hard that he loses all the air in him at once. He falls, winded, and his body breathes in before he can stop himself. He stays on the ground, both gasping and trying not to gasp, as Silver leaps forward to defend him, punching Mare across the face.

“Bing, come on, don’t breathe yet!” Silver cries. Purple smoke clings to the air around Bing, and Silver can see it flowing into Bing’s mouth as he pants.

“Can’t, can’t...” Bing gasps, sinking into the ground, spent. His eyes start to glaze over with fear. “No, please...”

“Oh crap,” Silver hisses. Bing’s already breathed in too much smoke. It’s up to Silver to finish this.

But Mare comes back from Silver’s punch with a vengeance, invigorated by his success in getting Bing.

“You can’t hold your breath forever,” Mare laughs as he and Silver strike and parry, “I can’t promise it’ll be quick or painless, but at least you’ll be able to breathe again!”

“Go to hell,” Silver mutters. Bing has gotten up enough to scramble away from something only he can see.

“C’mon, pease, don’t hurt me,” Bing whimpers, and Silver can’t help but hurt for him and wonder what he’s seeing.

That simple distraction is enough.

Mare punches Silver, not in the face but in the neck, making his cough and gag. He can’t stop himself from automatically trying to breathe, but there’s suddenly so much smoke around him that he can hardly get any oxygen. He falls to his knees, trying to get air before he passes out. He looks up enough to see Mare spread his arms out, sending purple smoke out in a burst. The stuff flows out from him, racing over the ground, billowing past Silver and Bing into the studio, to where the other egos are hiding.

“No,” Silver gasps, but it’s already too late. He can hardly see through the purple haze.

In the next moment, the screams start.

Shouts of alarm sound first as the egos see the smoke, urgent cries from those who know what the smoke is and demand others not to breathe it. But there’s too much of it to avoid, and the noise eventually morphs into the screams of the egos experiencing their worst fears. They meld together in a cacophony of terror, but Silver can still pick out a few.

“Leave us alone!” Damien howls, voice breaking with terror, “Haven’t you taken enough from us??”

“CJ, no, CJ!!” RJ wails. Silver can hear CJ wailing too, keening and wordless in agony.

“I’m sorry Dad, I’m sorry, please!” Eric sobs from somewhere in the room. “Don’t hurt me, I didn’t mean it!!”

“Not solitary, please, let me out, I’ll do better!” Yancy hollers from another corner, “I swear I’ll do better, don’t leave me in here!!”

Silver struggles to get up as the screams of his family fill his ears. After releasing all that smoke, Mare must have been weakened. If Silver can find him, he’ll be easier to beat now than before. Silver sluggishly crawls to his feet, fighting the smoke. He feels tired, aching. It’s hard to breathe, his throat feels thick. When Silver manages to stand, he looks around, trying to find Mare. But he finds something else instead, and chokes.

It’s Roxanne, sprawled on the ground, body twisted and unnaturally broken. There’s blood leaking from her ears and nose, and her eyes are wide open, face contorted in terror. She’s ghostly pale, and Silver can tell just from looking at her that she’d be cold to touch.

“Roxy,” he gasps, nearly collapsing again.

Standing over her is Dark, looking down at Silver as he examines the fingernails on one hand. There’s blood caked there.

“Here I thought you were a stickler for the rules,” Dark says, deceptively calm, “Yet you’ve broken one of the most important rules I have for this house. What’s more, you broke it right under my nose, and kept it hidden for who knows how long.”

“D-Dark,” Silver stammers, helpless with fear. Dark is dead, this isn’t real, he knows that, but the smoke smothers that knowledge every moment he spends staring at Roxanne’s body.

“You understand that I had no choice,” Dark continues, stepping over Roxanne to approach Silver. “You put all of us at risk by cavorting with a human. And the fact that she recognized me, that she knew us...you told her far too much.”

“She was only a human,” Silver whispers, tears filling his eyes and beginning to spill. “She couldn’t have hurt us, she didn’t tell anyone else–”

“Humans cannot be trusted!” Dark snaps, aura flashing around him, silencing Silver. “Even knowing how dangerous I was, all I had to do was threaten her and she spilled everything she knew about us. She could not keep our secrets. They were never hers at all.”

“I–”

“And it was you who gave them to her,” Dark growls, grabbing Silver by the throat with the same hand covered in Roxy’s blood. Silver would gag if Dark wasn’t squeezing his throat so tight.

“Dark,” he rasps, “Please...”

Even through the tears, even through the agony and terror, Silver knows two things to be true.

“These are illusions, they are not corporeal,” he reminds himself, “Mare can only be in one place, and if he’s here, he can’t hurt anyone else.”

It’s little comfort. Silver’s mind is betraying him, and having those facts in his mind doesn’t make him fear any less, doesn’t make the hole in his heart from seeing Roxanne dead get any smaller.

“Roxanne is not the only one who needs to be punished,” Dark says, a cruel grin spreading across his face. “You need to be reminded of the rules here, and you need to relearn your place.”

Silver resigns himself to this, closing his eyes in grief.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, not to Dark, and not even to Roxanne.

~~~

After Yandere takes down Phantom, his only goal is Anti. He managed to restrain himself from putting his katana through Phantom’s chest, but he has no plans to do the same with Anti.

Anti is going to pay for what he’s done, no matter what Yandere has to do.

He runs to Anti where he stands lording over the fight, watching his puppets battle for him. Anti laughs to see Yandere, spreading his arms.

“Did you miss me?” he asks, hair shifting into a bright yellow-green and eyes going black. “I’d say it’s been lonely without you, but I’ve managed to find myself some company.” Dark’s aura swirls around Anti as his appearance changes back to normal, but his skin is still tinted gray, the same way Dark’s was. The sight of it makes Yandere shake with rage.

“Are you ready to die, Guritchi??” Yandere tries to growl, but it comes out like a screech, filtered through his anger. Anti laughs again and settles into a fighting stance, claws out, aura wisping around himself.

“Are you?” he asks in return, giggling madly.

Yandere launches at him, katana raised, but Anti evades, poofing away in a burst of smoke and reappearing behind Yandere.

“Gonna have to do better than that,” Anti tells him smugly.

Yandere shrieks in rage and whirls around to slice through Anti’s head. But once again he teleports away, using Dark’s aura like it’s his own. It makes Yandere’s blood boil ever further, makes his vision go red.

Which might be why he doesn’t notice Anti’s aura swirling around him, blocking everything out, until the smoky gray is all he can see. He spins around, looking for Anti.

“Come out, you coward!!!” Yandere howls, out of his mind with rage.

And being surrounded by Dark’s aura is making grief rise up in him too, as raw and powerful as it was when he first found out what happened to Dark. Yandere chokes on it, on the smoke and on his own despair as he searches through the deep gray for Anti. The aura is cold, and Yandere can hear indistinct voices bubbling from all around, but it isn’t scary. It reminds him of before, when Dark’s aura would whisper through Yandere’s hair, or gently wrap around his arm, or ghost over the small of his back and push him into Dark’s arms. It’s too familiar, the cold and the wind and the quiet voices are too soothing. Yandere’s surprised by the sob that escapes his throat.

“Yami,” he gasps, “Why did this happen? Why are you gone?”

Now Anti is wearing his aura, desecrating his memory. That thought catapults Yandere back into hate and anger once again, and he searches for Anti with renewed vigor, darting around as far as he can see, katana slashing, hands trembling with the desire to kill.

“When I find you I’m ripping you apart,” Yandere growls, “I’m going to crack open your chest and stab out your heart with one of your own ribs, so you can feel what you’ve done to me.”

“Didn’t Host say you can’t kill me?” Anti laughs. Yandere tries to pinpoint where his voice came from, but it echoes too strongly. “Not if you want Dark’s aura back, that is.”

“Dirty fucking spy,” Yandere spits, “I’ll beat you within an inch of your life. When Wil and the others have taken Yami’s aura from you I’ll cut out your larynx so you’ll finally shut up. I’ll pull out your claws one at a time. I’ll see what your brain looks like, I’ll split your skull open. You’ll wish you’d let me kill you earlier.”

Anti laughs, loud and cackling, but there’s something under it, something else that Yandere’s ears pick up.

Static.

Yandere freezes.

“What the fuck are you playing at,” Yandere gasps.

“What do you mean?” Anti asks innocently. Yandere still can’t see him through Dark’s aura, still can’t tell where his voice is coming from. Below his voice, static pops and crackles.

“Shut up, shut up!” Yandere screeches, whirling around, trying to get away from the static.

“You asked,” Anti chuckles, “What, don’t you remember this static? Just like old times, isn’t it?”

“Fuck you!!” Yandere screams, “Kutabare! Shine!!!”

“Wasn’t it easier, then?” Anti continues, static getting louder. Yandere feels like it’s flowing into him, through his ears and down his throat. “Wasn’t it easy when you knew I was in charge, when you weren’t thinking about anything but that? When you didn’t have a care in the world?”

“No,” Yandere moans, standing still, trying to shut the static out.

“You remember that feeling, don’t you?” Anti says, voice low and almost gentle, “You remember this too, don’t you, the way this aura feels around you, the sound of it. Doesn’t it feel good? Don’t you miss it?”

“Stop,” Yandere whimpers, tears filling his eyes.

“Oh, don’t cry,” Anti coos, “Don’t cry, usagi, just listen. Just listen.”

The static is so loud Yandere can hardly think, and with its buzzing comes other messages flowing into Yandere’s mind.

Relax.

Be calm.

You are safe.

Yandere sobs for the second time as a wisp of aura curls around his cheek, wiping away tears. Another tendril ghosts by his ear, adding its murmuring voices to the static. Against his will, Yandere can feel the fear and the rage slipping away. It’s sadness, it’s the agony of lost love that flows in to replace it, and Yandere trembles with grief. It’s despair, and relief, and contentment, and relaxation. It’s right there, comfort and bliss is right there, so close, so far away ever since Yandere lost Dark. He couldn’t miss Dark more if he tried, not even having Damien around is enough. Dark’s aura is winding around Yandere like a blanket, and that horrid static is blanketing him too, rushing through him, soothing Yandere despite himself. It’s so hard to keep fighting. It’s so hard to keep missing Dark.

“I just want this to stop,” Yandere whispers through his tears.

“It will,” Anti murmurs, “It will, sakura. Just let go. Just let me in.”

How can Yandere say no to that?

He closes his eyes, and gives in.

When Yandere opens them again, they’re blanketed over with static. His katana slips out of his hands and hits the floor with a clatter. Anti finally emerges from the smoke and allows it to dissipate. But static continues to ring in Yandere’s ears, and he stays where he is, slumped and loose as Anti walks towards him, claws out, grinning, ready to finish what he started weeks ago.

Then Dr. Iplier is in front of Yandere, arms spread wide, eyes glinting with equal parts fear and stubborn determination.

“I’m not letting you hurt him,” he says, quiet and angry, “Not again.”

Anti blinks, then frowns.

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping Oliver?” he growls, put out at the interruption.

“I did,” Dr. Iplier answers. “How long did you really think that’d take me?”

Anti flicks his gaze towards the battlefield. Sure enough, Oliver is back on his feet, fighting alongside the others again, no worse for wear aside from a hole in his shirt, revealing the metal plate soldered over his wounds.

“Whatever,” Anti says, “You’re already too late. The conditioning from the static is still in Yan’s mind, and he’s fully sucked in now. All that’s left is for me to put him out of his misery.”

“Are you really such a coward that you’d kill him like this?” Dr. Iplier asks, trying to tamp down his anger. “Do you think he’d beat you in a straight fight? Are you scared you’re outmatched? So now you’re gonna kill him when he’s incapacitated? What are you afraid of?”

Anti snarls, lips curling dangerously.

“Watch yourself, Doc,” Anti growls, “You can’t stop me from killing Yandere, but I might just kill you first.”

“Do it then,” Dr. Iplier says, standing up straighter, “Kill me. Give Yandere a chance to fight back. If you’re so confident you can beat him then do it. Maybe you’ll get a better fight out of killing me first.”

Dr. Iplier stares at Anti, unwavering, even as static buzzes around him, even as Dark’s aura whips against his skin, blows his hair around. Anti glowers, but he’s thoughtful. Dr. Iplier can feel Yandere’s presence behind him, how he’s almost leaning against Dr. Iplier’s back, so boneless from the static in his mind that he can barely stand at all. Dr. Iplier stands up tall and looks Anti in the eye with dignity as he waits for Anti to kill him.

“You know, every once in a while you have a pretty good idea, Doc,” Anti finally admits, grinning. “But you’d really do this? You’d really deprive the others of their medic, just for him?”

Why wouldn’t he? That’s how this whole situation started, because Dr. Iplier couldn’t bear to see Yandere killed. Maybe he hasn’t learned his lesson, maybe he’s still being selfish, maybe it’s a bad idea in the long run to sacrifice himself. But if it gives Yandere a chance to get away from Anti, or the other egos a chance to see what’s happening and stop him, then isn’t it worth it?

Dr. Iplier feels Yandere’s weight off his back, hears him step back.

“Shishi?” he mumbles, groggy and confused but coming back to himself.

And that’s all Dr. Iplier needs to be certain of his choice.

“I would,” he answers Anti, “For Yandere, I will.”

“Suit yourself,” Anti says. He reels his arm back. “Say goodbye.”

Anti punches through Dr. Iplier’s chest, coming out the other side with his heart clutched in his clawed hand.

For a long moment, there is only silence as Anti pulls his arm back out, taking Dr. Iplier’s heart with him. Dr. Iplier’s body sways and falls, back hitting the ground, gaping chest facing the ceiling, blood pooling around him.

Then, Yandere screams.

~~~

Silver coughs, not from the purple smoke surrounding him, but from the kick to his stomach that’s sent him rolling across the floor.

“Please,” Silver wheezes. There’s specks of his own blood on the ground. Dark – no, Mare – but it’s Dark – walks up to him, dress shoes clacking against the floor.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Dark answers, voice deceptively smooth.

Silver sighs, exhausted. He can still hear the terrified cries of the other egos, but it’s supplemented by coughing as their bodies try to expel the smoke. Even with the coughing, the volume is quieter than it was before, as though some egos have gone silent. If this doesn’t end soon, someone is going to die. But Silver is paralyzed. He can hardly think, hardly breathe, hardly move. All he has is fear. His eyes are wide behind his mask, his only desire is to run away, escape, but his body won’t let him.

Dark kicks him in the head, and Silver cries out as stars burst in his mind.

“Roxanne was lucky, all things considered,” Dark muses, circling Silver like a shark as he clutches his forehead. “I could’ve killed her like this, slow and painful. But I let her die quickly. I hope you’re grateful.”

A rush of agony rips through Silver, but running alongside it is a sense of wrongness.

“Y-You’re gonna…gonna kill me?” Silver asks.

“You’ve always been a liability,” Dark – Mare? – growls, “And now you’ve become a hazard.”

“Then, then…” Silver struggles from the ground, managing to get on his hands and knees. “You’d put me in…in your v-void for a week…” He slowly drags himself to his feet. “Or s-stick me in The Cell.” He looks Dark – no, Mare in the eyes. “Dark would never kill one of us, n-no matter what we did.”

Mare, wearing Dark’s appearance like a hologram, blinks in confusion. His eyes widen in shock, then narrow in anger.

“Does it matter?” he spits, grabbing Silver by the throat. “What are you gonna do about it? Look around, Silver, you already lost.” He grins. “My smoke’s going to kill them all, and I’m going to kill you.” He squeezes Silver’s throat, and Silver wheezes, trying to breathe. He kicks out and claws at Mare’s hand, but he’s too weak to break free. Mare’s hand gets tighter, his grin meaner. “Some hero you were.”

Silver can’t breathe. Not even the fear smoke can get into his lungs, and he was already out of breath from his injuries. It only takes moments for his vision to start narrowing, for his chest to start burning from the inside. What little energy he had leaves him, and his arms and legs begin to still. The world around him starts to go dark, a booming crack sounds–

And Silver’s on the ground, Mare’s hand gone from his neck, coughing and gasping for air. His vision is still blurred from tears as he coughs, but when he looks up, he can tell that Mare looks like Mare again, not Dark. The area is much less purple than it was a moment ago, and Mare is using the hand that earlier held Silver by his throat to hold his other arm. His shoulder is bleeding profusely. He’s shocked, staring at something behind Silver. Silver turns to look, and gapes.

It’s Captain Magnum, hand still raised, flintlock pistol still smoking. Silver manages to sit up, and he can see the look on Magnum’s face, darker than a storm. His pupils are dilated and Silver can tell he’s breathing rapidly, but it’s as though his body’s fear response isn’t affecting his conscious mind.

“What the hell,” Mare gasps, “You’re supposed to be seeing your worst fears!”

“I don’t fear a thing but the briney deep,” Magnum snarls, voice low like thunder, “And I respect her more than I could ever fear her. Now, if ye don’t make yerself scarce, I’ll see ye to Davy Jones, and that’s a promise.”

Mare glowers, but there’s not much he can do. His shot shoulder still bleeds heavily, and his arm hangs down limply like he couldn’t move it if he tried. The smoke dissipating from the room is further evidence that he’s been weakened. It would take Magnum too long to reload his pistol to shoot Mare again, but he’s more than capable of beating Mare down with his bare hands. Mare seems to recognize this, so he spits angrily in Magnum’s direction before turning into smoke, floating slowly away and taking the rest of the purple in the air with him.

“Mate, ye alright?” Magnum asks Silver, hurrying over and helping him up.

“As good as I can be,” Silver says, but he already feels better without the fear smoke in his system. “Just…thank you, that was incredible.”

“Arr, t’was nothing,” Magnum mumbles, but he can’t help but give an embarrassed smile.

“Yo, Mags, what’re you doing here?” asks Bing, walking over. There’s confusion written on his face as the smoke clears from his mind. “What the hell happened?”

“Magnum shot Mare in the shoulder,” Silver says, “We’re safe now.”

“Man, sorry I couldn’t help,” Bing says, frowning at himself. “I didn’t–”

He’s cut off by someone – Bop, Silver quickly realizes – crashing into his side and hugging him tight.

“Bing, Bing,” he sobs, burying his face into Bing’s neck.

“Boppy, hey, it’s okay,” Bing murmurs, turning to him and hugging him back, Silver and Magnum forgotten. “It’s alright, we’re all good, baby…”

“I guess that’s my cue to check on the others,” Silver says to Magnum, “Hopefully no one’s hurt; that smoke can be deadly.”

“I best be seein’ about my mates as well,” Magnum muses, subdued, “The pair o’ them so afeard wasn’t a pretty sight.”

Silver nods, and the two part ways into the studio. Before he goes, Silver can’t help but look back at where Roxanne was lying, but she’s gone like Mare’s smoke is. Still, Silver shudders as he turns away and walks off, knowing he’ll be seeing Roxanne’s body in his nightmares for the foreseeable future.

He finds the Jim Twins first, huddled together so tight they look connected, both crying silently and trembling. RJ is the one who answers Silver’s questions about how the pair are feeling and breathing, as CJ refuses to let RJ go to sign. RJ won’t take his arms away from his twin either. CJ seems to have a lingering cough, but neither twin is in immediate danger from smoke inhalation.

“Did either of you lose consciousness?” Silver asks.

“Well, I know I didn’t,” RJ mumbles, “I don’t know about CJ, I didn’t…” He pauses, eyes getting teary again. “I thought he was dead.”

CJ buries his face in RJ’s neck, as though he experienced the same thing. Silver can imagine what the twins saw, and his heart aches for them.

Silver finds the trio of new egos next. Yancy and Illinois are tangled in each other, and the pair of them are nearly swallowed up by Magnum’s arms around them. Neither are crying, though they both have tracks down their cheeks from earlier tears. Yancy is trembling.

“You’re all okay?” Silver asks them, “Any trouble breathing?”

“No,” Yancy and Lio answer at almost the same time. Magnum looks at them both with worry. He must have an idea of what they saw in Mare’s smoke, but the pair aren’t about to mention it.

Silver moves on, and finds King of the Squirrels, Ed Edgar, and Eric all sitting together. King and Ed are sitting together, that is; Eric is sitting in Ed’s lap, arms around his neck, audibly crying. Ed is holding him and stroking his hair, trying to soothe, but he looks like he’s seen a ghost. King is similarly skittish, and he jolts when he hears Silver approaching, though he relaxes once he sees him.

“You okay?” he asks, “You look like you’ve been through a lot.”

“Haven’t we all?” Silver replies, trying to smile. “You guys alright? Can you breathe well?”

King and Ed both nod, and Ed speaks up.

“Eric was sayin’ he couldn’t catch his breath a minute ago,” Ed says, “Can’t tell if it’s breathin’ trouble or if he’s still too upset from all them illusions.”

It’s not an unfounded assumption; Eric is clearly still distraught over whatever he saw. But he’ll definitely need to be first in line when Dr. Iplier is checking everyone over.

There’s still two more people Silver has to check on, and he finds them before long. Damien sits against Celine’s stretcher, trembling, clutching one of her hands in his.

“Damien?” Silver asks softly, trying not to startle him. Damien still jumps at the sound of Silver’s voice.

“Oh, S-Silver,” he gasps, “I’m…I’m alright, I think, and Celine is as well, I believe…”

Silver still walks up to Celine to check her pulse and make sure she looks alright. Damien seems to be right; her pulse is normal and her color hasn’t changed. But Silver has his doubts about Damien. He’s still shaking, and his breathing is a little too fast and a little too shallow.

“Hey, Damien,” Silver says, kneeling down to him, “Celine’s breathing is okay, but you need to breathe, too.”

“I’m, I…” Damien tries, but his voice is quiet and his pupils are still blown wide in terror. Silver gives him a reassuring smile.

“Here, let’s take a few breaths together. There’s no more smoke in the air, so it’s safe to breathe now. We’ll breathe in for four seconds, hold it for seven, and exhale for eight. Four, seven, eight. You understand?”

“Y-Yes…”

“Then let’s start. In…” Silver breathes in, starting a count to four in his mind. Damien does the same, with effort. “Hold…” Silver counts to seven, and so does Damien, though he’s clearly fighting the urge to hyperventilate. “Out.” Silver exhales as he counts to eight, and Damien follows, though he seems to run out of breath to exhale partway through. Still, he’s trying, and that means it’s already working.

Silver isn’t used to seeing Damien like this. He hasn’t had much cause to interact with him before this, but Damien was always so composed in every meeting, even when he was clearly rattled. Damien may have been unnerved and confused in the videos about him, but in real life, he has the decorum and composure one would expect of a city mayor. But now, though, in the face of Mare’s smoke, he’s a terrified wreck. Not that Silver can blame him; that fear had nearly gotten the better of himself, too. Though the breathing exercise is for Damien, Silver has to admit it’s working to dissipate the last of his own anxiety as well.

The pair keep breathing for a little while, and after several repetitions, Damien recovers. He stops trembling, his eyes are no longer so wide, and when he speaks again, his voice is calm.

“Thank you,” he says, “I apologize, that smoke just…” He considers what words to use, but Silver smiles gently again.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says, “You should’ve seen me earlier.” He sighs. “That was Natemare. He’s another figment, from someone else. That smoke was his power. It’s poisonous and makes people hallucinate their worst fears.”

“I see,” Damien says, thoughtful. He laughs weakly. “That explains what I saw.”

Silver doesn’t ask. He knows it’s not his business. Damien thinks for a moment longer, then sighs.

“I imagine he hasn’t shown his face here, else I would’ve been told about it,” Damien muses, “But then…that means he could still appear. If Dark and Wilford haven’t found him…he must still exist.”

Silver knows who Damien’s talking about, and he nods.

“Well, I suppose it’s just as well,” Damien says, smiling tiredly, “If the fans could love someone like Dark, or love who Wilford has become, then why wouldn’t they love Mark, too?”

It occurs to Silver then that Damien is tremendously lonely. Wilford is so different he’s hardly the same person, and all Damien has his comatose sister. Silver was planning to return to his own friends after checking on Damien, to stay with Ed and King and Eric until he got news from the egos downstairs. But Damien needs company, he needs a person to lean on right now. Of all the egos in the room now, Damien’s the only one who’s alone.

Silver already knows that being a hero means sacrifices. Sometimes big ones, like his earlier fight with Mare. But sometimes small ones, like this, like now.

Damien doesn’t say anything more, and neither does Silver, but the silence is amicable. Silver’s super-hearing can pick up the murmurs of other egos, talking and reassuring each other. He can hear that Damien is breathing normally now, can see that he’s calmer. And Silver feels calmer, too.

The calm is shattered by a shrill, wrenching scream piercing the air.

Silver and Damien both jump a mile, and as the scream fades, it’s replaced by the fearful exclamations and surprised shouting of the other egos.

“What on earth was that??” Damien gasps.

“It…” Silver’s stomach knots up as he realizes. “It came from downstairs.”

Damien’s eyes widen. He clutches Celine’s hand a little tighter.

Silver wonders, and fears, what could possibly be happening.

~~~

Host has been fighting for much longer than everyone else.

The first time Jameson grabbed his pocket watch and turned back the seconds, the Host’s power let him follow without trying, and both men were too surprised to make much use of the knowledge. But Jameson is used to time, he knows the right moments to do over and the right ones to let slip. Host follows along, trying not only to defeat him, but stop his hand from turning time back whenever he tries. But Jameson is quick, nearly as quick as Host’s words, and nearly quicker than his swinging bat. Time reaches back and reaches back, but Host can’t check how many seconds have been lost, can’t narrate how long they’ve been fighting. His narration flows out of his mouth in a rapid stream, tracking Jameson’s movements and letting him now when they’ve gone backwards. He cannot stop even for a moment to think of anything else, he cannot stop the endless torrent of words. If he loses track for even a moment, he’ll lose his momentum and fail to catch up, and Jameson will win. He can’t even tell who’s winning at all. He can only focus moment-to-moment, as Jameson endlessly tries to reach back into the past.

But then a wail splits the room, and both Jameson and Host are given pause.

“The fight ceases,” Host narrates, words nearly too fast to be understood, just as they’ve been this whole fight. “The entire fight ceases, the others are rendered still. They look to the front of the room for the source. It is Yandere, anguished. Beyond him is Anti, triumphant and cackling. Between them is Dr. Iplier, d–”

Host chokes. His words leave him. After so many minutes of relentless speech, of constantly narrating nearly without breath, this is the word that stops him. It does not escape his lips, but he already knows what it is. He already knows what happened. He already knows what he lost.

The word “dead” does not leave his mind and pierce the air, but it is still the word that breaks him.

“Edward,” he gasps as his heart shatters.

Anti is still laughing, Yandere is still sobbing. Host continues to narrate, mechanically and quietly, enough to see the other egos still frozen still, comprehending, enough to see Anti’s puppets also frozen, distracted by Anti’s murderous glee. Yandere falls to his knees, crouching over Dr. Iplier, and Anti advances, ready to take Yandere next.

At that, the spell is broken. The fight resumes. The puppets work to distract the egos, to keep them from reaching Yandere to offer help. Host is pulled back into his own fight, still numb with loss, so he cannot see what happens next.

He cannot see Wilford run to intercept Anti and rescue Yandere, only to be bodily stopped and blocked by Jackie. He cannot see Chrome break away from his fight with MadPat to run across the room, faster than any human could go. He cannot see the other Googles shout to him, try to stop him. Though Host does not see these things, they happen, and they lead to Chrome advancing on Anti with eyes blazing red, and Anti laughing at the sight of him.

“You really think you can stop me, little tin can!?” Anti laughs, nearly howling with joy and madness. Yandere has enough time to look up and see Chrome there, enough time to be shocked through his tears.

There is time for nothing else before Anti launches, slamming into Chrome, into Chrome, sending him stumbling, staggering back. Anti disappears from view and into Chrome’s system in the blink of an eye. By the time Chrome has regained his balance, he isn’t Chrome any longer. His metallic skin has gone gray, inky smoke billows around him, bizarre swathes of glitching criss-cross over him. His expression changes from rage to manic glee, but his eyes stay burning red, so bright it hurts to meet his gaze.

“Oh, that was easy,” Anti exclaims through Chrome’s mouth, laughing through Chrome’s throat. “I’m on a roll, who wants to be next?” He grins down at Yandere. “How about we finally finish this, usagi?”

Yandere is frozen where he kneels over Dr. Iplier, eyes wide with terror. But before Anti can move forward, he’s grabbed at both sides by two sets of inhumanly strong arms.

“Chrome, kick him out!” Plus shouts from the right.

“You can push him out, I know you can!” Oliver cries from the left.

“Bim, get Anti!” yells Google, following a few paces behind his brothers.

“Gimme a second!” Bim yells back, too preoccupied with fending off a magical blast from Marvin to retaliate immediately.

Anti understands this, and grins wickedly. He brings one foot down on Plus’s ankle, metal against metal, crushing it mercilessly. He sends a swathe of inky black into Oliver’s face, pushing the aura into his eyes and mouth. Both Plus and Oliver are distracted by the onslaught, instinctively loosening their grip on Anti’s arms. And that loosened grip is all it takes. Google, still a few steps too far away, knows what’s about to happen but isn’t fast enough to stop it.

Google isn’t fast enough to stop Anti from freeing his arms and sending each one through the chests of Plus and Oliver, each hand coming out the other side with a chunk of glowing core in his claws. Anyone who doesn’t see it happen is alerted to it by Bim’s horrified scream. Plus and Oliver collapse in two heavy thuds, and Anti’s arms, Chrome’s arms, are stained near to the shoulders with oil.

In the next moment, Google has tackled Anti to the ground, pinning his arms awkwardly beneath him, but Anti hardly cares. He cackles wildly, deliriously happy from his victory, as Google keeps him on the ground, eyes glowing bright blue.

“Bim!!” Google roars.

“I’m trying!!” Bim screeches, already crying as he tries to fend off Marvin and free Chrome from Anti at the same time.

At that moment, Host lands a lucky swipe at Jameson with his bat, knocking his head sideways and making him fall. Host has a moment to reevaluate and understand the shouting he heard while he was fighting with Jameson.

“Plus and Oliver are dead, by Anti’s hands in Chrome’s hands,” Host narrates, trepidation knotting in his chest, “Bim cannot pull him out and fight Marvin at the same time. Wilford cannot break away from Jackie to assist, and the puppets that the Googles left are advancing on them now.” A spares a moment to find the future. “If something is not done, Anti will kill Google, and the rest of the egos will likely follow.”

Host has only one idea. He doesn’t know how much time it will garner, but with Jameson half-concussed, it could be enough to stop the carnage and finally end this fight. He has no choice. He breathes in, long and deep, and then he pulls in all of his power and speaks.

“Anti and his puppets are still!” Host bellows, loud over the battlefield.

They all freeze, even Chrome’s body no longer struggles under Google. They are confused, they flex their muscles, they try to move, but they cannot.

“Anti and his puppets are still, Anti and his puppets are still, Anti and his puppets are still,” Host continues, murmuring low, power shimmering in the air around him, bright and golden like light in stained glass. To keep so many powerful figments frozen in place requires him to repeat the statement as a mantra, to continuously feed it power. Once again, if he stops his narration for even a moment, it will all be over. “Anti and his puppets are still, Anti and his puppets are still–”

Bim finally manages to yank Anti out of Chrome, and as Anti reappears, Chrome sags into the floor, face obscured by his bangs falling into his face. Google releases his arms and moves off of him, but Chrome stays where he is and begins to shake. Anti, despite being unable to move, laughs for the hundredth time, still high on bloodlust.

“I’m three for three here, huh?” Anti giggles, glitching like a light show even under Host’s spell. “Host can’t keep up a narration that powerful for long.”

“I don’t need long,” Google growls, standing up and grabbing Anti by the neck in one swift movement. His thumb digs into the slice across Anti’s neck, making him gag through his laughter, but not making him stop.

“Don’t kill him, Google,” Wilford speaks up, sighing as he approaches, finally able to confront Anti now that Jackie is rendered frozen. He talks like he’s been inconvenienced, but his bright pink eyes and deep-set scowl betray his rage. “We won’t get anywhere that way. Besides, there’s better ways to get Anti out of here.”

“Oh, really?” Anti coughs, splitting blood through his smiling teeth. Google reluctantly releases him, throwing him to the side and returning to Chrome’s side. Anti manages to stay standing, and despite the blood now running down his neck, stays triumphant. “What are you gonna do, if you’re not gonna kill me?” Anti asks Wilford, taunting.

Wilford poofs around the room, once to grab Jackie by the throat, once to do the same to Marvin, and once again to come back before Anti, holding them by their necks in front of him. Host’s spell prevents them from even squirming in Wilford’s grasp.

“I’ll take away a couple puppets,” Wilford says, “Or you can leave now and keep them for a while longer. Choose.”

“You won’t do it,” Anti says, still grinning, “They’re puppets; they aren’t in control. Besides, some of your fellow Ipliers are pretty fond of them. You won’t kill them.”

“You don’t think I would?” Wilford asks, expression darkening even as his mouth quirks into an unhinged smile. “You think I give a shit about Jackie or Marvin? You think I care about making a few people upset?” He squeezes Jackie and Marvin’s necks a little tighter. “I’d rather they be upset than dead. You’ve already killed Dark, so don’t expect me to shed a tear for your puppets.” His smile widens, splitting his face, eyes still glowing pink. “After everything, what’s a little more death? What’s a couple more bodies? What’s a little more madness?”

With that, he squeezes Jackie and Marvin’s necks hard, and two loud crunching snaps fill the air. Wilford tosses both bodies at Anti’s feet, and they flop to the ground like ragdolls, heads lolling too far. Bim gasps, but otherwise, all is silent. Anti’s expression changes from glee to rage in an instant.

“You fucker! Those are my strongest puppets!!” Anti screeches. Even in his anger he cannot break Host’s spell.

“Your move, glitch,” Wilford replies, poofing away briefly to grab Jameson and hold him by his neck in front of Anti. “You wanna lose your time traveller next? You wanna test me again?”

At that moment, a clutch of purple smoke wavers into the room. Anti and Wilford turn to look, and see Natemare appear at the end of the room, just outside the doors to the stairs. Host’s spell seizes him as well, and he cannot move, but Anti can see his messy shoulder wound and his too-pale face even at a distance. It reminds him of Phantom, who Yandere stabbed in the shoulder what feels like ages ago. He’s still lying on the floor where he fell, surrounded by blood, probably unconscious, possibly worse. Anti looks back to Wilford, to Jameson in his grasp, to Host still narrating him and his puppets still. With Host busy narrating, the egos can’t take Dark’s aura from Anti, but Anti can’t retaliate and finish the fight. They’ve reached a stalemate, and Anti knows it.

Finally, Anti growls in frustration, glitching harshly, shadows of himself splitting off and raging just like Dark’s glitches used to do.

“Fine,” Anti snarls, “Let us go and we’ll leave. But mark my words, you’ll see us again. And next time will be the last time.”

“It sure as hell will,” Wilford spits.

The Host finally, finally lets his narration stop completely, and Anti and his puppets can move again. Wilford tosses Jameson away, and as soon as his hand leaves his neck, Anti teleports himself and his puppets – Jackie and Marvin included – away with a flash of black smoke.

Host groans and slumps over, spent. Bim manages to get to him fast enough to stop him from hitting the ground.

“Let go,” Host rasps, voice nearly gone. Despite his exhaustion, he pushes Bim away, and Bim is too upset over the last few minutes’ events to protest.

Host stumbles blindy across the room, and Bim follows in a daze, still sobbing. Google is kneeling on the floor with Chrome, holding him tight, expression bleak and haunted. Chrome is keening, emitting a low metallic screech, curled in on himself and unable to look at his brothers’ bodies. Bim falls to his knees beside Oliver and collapses onto his chest, weeping. Host goes further, and narrates Wilford, sitting behind Yandere and stroking his hair, eyes still bright pink and expression still angry. He narrates Yandere, face in his hands, sobbing, Dr. Iplier’s head in his lap. He narrates Dr. Iplier’s body, cold now, blood congealed, eyes still open and glassy.

“My love,” Host whispers, voice hardly audible. He kneels beside his doctor, cups his face in his hands. He knew he’d be cold, but feeling it is far worse than narrating it. He moves one hand to tug Dr. Iplier’s eyelids shut, but it doesn’t make Dr. Iplier look any less dead in his mind’s eye. He’s still pale, there’s still a hole in his chest, there’s still blood on the floor. Host’s mind moves with a hundred thoughts at once, a hundred memories, a hundred moments with his doctor and a hundred times he loved him. Yet he can think of nothing at all. There is nothing in his mind but pain. His body aches from exertion, but it aches from loss, too. Despair builds in Host’s chest until he moans, long and loud, adding a resonant low tone to Yandere and Bim’s high-pitched sobs, to Chrome’s scratchy static wail. That’s the note that allows the symphony of grief to flow up to the third floor, to reach the horrified ears of the other egos.

When the weaker egos leave the studio, they see the group who fought trudging forth, faces drawn and eyes still leaking. Google is stone-faced as he carries Oliver, Chrome stares at the floor as he carries Plus. Host, despite his flagging strength, holds Dr. Iplier tight against his chest, and Bim walks alongside him in case he needs support, still in tears and unable to look away from Oliver. Wilford heads the group with Yandere, who’s still distraught, weeping in his arms. The other egos gasp and cry out as what happened sinks in. Some begin to cry, some are in too much shock. The Jims swarm Bim in tears at the sight of Oliver, and Bim does his best to comfort them. Ed steps in front of Eric, trying to shield him from the carnage, but Eric begins sobbing anyway. King and Silver are horrified to see Dr. Iplier, one of the oldest and most steadfast of them all, dead in Host’s arms. The rest of them react in varying levels of despair, all knowing that Anti has gotten away, and that he’s taken the lives of three of their own with him.

“Good god, what happened?” asks Damien, quietly horrified and barely audible through the screams and sobs of the other egos.

“What do you think?” asks Wilford, no longer enraged, but only exhausted. “We lost.”

[spacedrawn]

A plan

Prompt: None. I’m simply fulfilling my title of angst king. And no, this is not all the angst I can do. It’s just a bit of it

Warnings: character death, slight mentions of torture, angst (lots of it)

Note: If there are spelling mistakes please excuse them it’s late and I’m hella tired rn

-

Dark sighed quietly, swirling the glass of wine in his hand. He glanced at the work on his desk but found that, no matter what, he couldn’t focus on it. Perhaps it was because today marked the day he’d lost everything. He frowned softly, hand growing still.

His mind began to remind him of what happened yet he couldn’t push the memories back. Instead, Dark relaxed into his office chair and let his mind recount the events.

Dark cracked his neck, the glass shattering as he did. He held his eyes shut for a moment, knowing exactly what he’d just done. It’s to protect them. His eyes opened and he stared at the mirror, not caring to try and focus his eyes on his reflection. Instead, he stared past it at the determined look of his old friend.

They didn’t realize it. Didn’t realize he’d just stolen their body. He lingered for a moment before snarling as he spun, storming away from the mirror. Dark could faintly hear his friend’s voice, demanding he return. Could hear them yelling his old name. But he trudged further into the manor. He did this to protect them. Right?

-

Dark tensed as he saw his old friend. He hadn’t expected to see them after all these years. How did they escape the mirror? Why are they hanging around Mark? Do they even remember him? He snapped out of his momentary daze, continuing his speech.

He could feel their eyes boring holes into him the whole time. He’d occasionally have to take a moment so he wouldn’t lunge at them and gather them into his arms. Dark wanted nothing more than to have them remember him. To have them back by his side except this time, as allies and not mayor and district attorney. Oh how he wanted to tell them what he couldn’t so long ago.

When he sent them back, Dark was left with a feeling of emptiness in his chest. It weighed heavy on him and made him choke up. Did they remember him? If they did why didn’t they say anything? Could they...? Or did the manor steal that ability from them.

-

The fear in their eyes as he yelled made his heart twist in agony. He didn’t want to scare them but he feared they were under Actor’s control. He had to try and break the possible control any way he could think of. Sadly, tricking them and yelling were ways he thought he could help.

Yet when they turned tail and managed to run out of his personal pocket in the void, he didn’t run after them. Dark instead stayed back and scolded himself. How could he be such a fool?!

-

His heart raced, staring with an unreadable expression at the Android. He gave a soft nod and exited his room, Google following suit. “Thank you. I will handle them. Make sure we are not interrupted.”

Dark had to hesitate before entering the living room. When he did, they were sitting there. They looked different but they were his old friend. He cleared his throat, walking over. “How did you find the manor?” He asked. Internally he scolded himself for asking such a stupid question.

They stood up from the couch, silently walking over. Their footsteps made not a sound against the wood, as if they were featherlight. They stopped right in front of him, staring at him with eyes that held no emotion.

Dark stumbled back, eyes widening. A hand came up to his cheek as he looked back at them. They’d punched him. They straight up punched him. He blinked owlishly, breathing a bit uneven.

“That’s for stealing my corpse and lying to me Damien.”

-

Dark snapped out of his thoughts. After that sentence they’d gone on to yell at him, landing a few more hits in fury. They kept asking him why. Why he betrayed them. Why he lied. Why he left them in that cursed mirror. Why he didn’t even go back to see if they were still alive. The whole time he’d been silent, a part of him feeling he deserved the yelling and hits.

Them. His old friend and district attorney. The one currently in Dr. Iplier’s medical wing. The one who’d been there for the past week.

He frowned and downed the rest of the wine as he stood. He could work later. Dark felt the utter need to go see them. Something dark settled in his chest that made him fill to the brim with anxiety. It forced him to an almost run but he composed himself. He didn’t want any of the egos to worry let along ask why he was running.

Dark stepped through the double doors leading to the medical wing. He passed the reception and Dr. Iplier’s office. The blinds were up and the doctor gave him a brief glance before returning to his work. Dark felt internally glad the doctor didn’t come out to ask him what he needed. He didn’t want to tell him about the worry in his chest that seemed to clamp a hand around his throat and make it hard to breath.

He gently opened the door to their room and slipped inside, shutting it once more. He had to take a moment to calm his nerves before he walked over. He winced at the sight of their bandaged form. Dark could recall finding them in Actor’s clutches, wounded and unconscious. Could recall Actor’s taunting voice as he spun a knife dripping red around his hand. He didn’t think he’d ever killed Actor’s new body so quick before.

He sighed and pulled the chair closer to the bed before sitting down. Dark gently took their hand in his, frowning softly. His cold thumb ran across their knuckles, the other holding their hand gently. Dr. Iplier had done everything he could to heal the wounds but had explained it was simply a matter of waiting left. Host had come in soon after, using his narration to try and speed up their recovery. He couldn’t wake them though.

Dark shook, pressing their hand to his forehead. He tried to suppress the tears that rose to his eyes as best he could but they soon escaped. He shut his eyes, hoping he could will them awake despite knowing that wouldn’t work. He knew he was crying but he didn’t care. All he cared about right now was hearing them wake up.

He lifted his head, frowning. “I wish I could have told you how much you meant to me before this. Before everything. Back when you still held ownership over your own body. Back when you were still my district attorney and I was still...Damien.” Dark’s voice grew incredibly soft at the mention of his old name. He sighed softly.

“Yet I never could. I was always so shy and reserved. I worried that if I said something I’d push you away. That’s the last thing I wanted to do. So I stayed silent.” He frowned, watching the heart monitor now. He couldn’t bare to look at them. “I pushed you into that mirror hoping to keep you safe. I didn’t know it’d hurt you so much. Didn’t know it’d show you your fears. I thought it would be a safe heaven.”

Dark suddenly frowned. “Yet...I never returned. Never returned to see if you were still alive. Never returned to see if you were still around. I never even thought of returning to see you. How cruel can I be?” Dark’s eyes dart to their hand now. “I lied to you, broke your trust. I didn’t tell you the whole truth of what letting me and Celine in would do. And then I left you. Alone.”

He trembled weakly, heart sinking. “I wish this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe if I’d done something more. Reached out to Mark more often. Done more. Maybe then he wouldn’t have turned into such a monster.” Dark’s eyes land finally on them. He took in the details of their face. Sure they held a few cuts here and there but they were still wonderful. His heart raced a moment before he frowned.

“Maybe if I did more I could have kept you safe from Actor. Made sure he didn’t hurt you. I pushed you away and Actor saw the chance to hurt you. I wasn’t there to protect you because I thought keeping you away from me would keep you safe. Yet look at you now. Wounded and unconscious and I can’t do anything to help.” Dark had to rub the tears from his eyes as they began to blur his vision.

“I promise when you wake up I’ll make this right. I’ll help you figure out whatever the manor has ‘gifted’ to you. If it gave me my abilities and Wilford his then it has to have given you some. I’ll make things right. Make sure I stop shoving you away.” He paused a beat and spoke in a softer tone. “I’m going to tell you how much you mean to me old friend. You deserve to know that after everything. You deserve to know how much I love you.”

A shrill, steady beep broke the silence.

Dark’s head snapped to the monitor and he froze. No. No no no no!! He set their hand back before slamming out of the room. He dashed down the hall and into Dr. Iplier’s office. He didn’t have to say a word as the doctor made his own dash down the hall to the room. “Get Marvin.” Was all the doctor said.

The entity immediately teleported to the septic manor. He was quick to locate Marvin, grabbing his wrist before teleporting back to the hall. “Marvin in here!” Called Dr. Iplier. The magician, despite being a bit confused, dashed in. He could hear the steady beep even from outside the hall and he knew something was wrong. That was enough incentive.

Dark shook, eying the door to their room. He felt the same hand from before wrap around his throat, squeezing and making it hard to breath. His aura flickered wildly but he didn’t care. All he cared about right now was them.

They had to be okay. That had to. They were strong. They couldn’t die. Please. He couldn’t bare to loose another. Dark was sure he’d break entirely if he lost them.

-

Not an hour later and Dr. Iplier exited the room. He jumped a bit, seeing Dark still standing in the hall. He didn’t except to see him there. A part of him wanted to have Dark sit down but he knew there was no point. The ego wouldn’t move. The doctor sighed, running a hand through his hair. He gave a shake of his head, frowning deeply. Tears pooled in his vision and blurred it. When he next blinked, Dark was no longer in the hall.

Dark had teleported to his study, collapsing immediately to his knees. No. No no no. Please no. Not them too. His vision swam as hot tears rushed down his face but he didn’t care.

They were gone.

They were gone and he couldn’t do anything about it. Dark let out a shrill cry, his aura glaring and sapping the colours from his study. He sobbed as he hung his head, shaking and trembling. They were gone. He buried his hands in his hair, crying out their name. He wanted them back. They couldn’t be gone. They couldn’t be. They were stronger than that. Yet he knew, deep within him, that they were gone.

Dark cried out, shaking and sobbing on his knees. He trembled and shook his head. No. Please god no. He couldn’t—couldn’t handle it. Please no. Not them. Take him instead.

-

Six months. It took the egos six months after their funeral to see Dark again. Wilford and Dr. Iplier were the only ones who saw him in that time frame. The next time he emerged from his room, there was an empty coldness to him. His aura was a bit more chaotic, flaring blue more often than before. He’d been in the dining room first and had called for a meeting with every ego, not just the ones at the meetings usually.

Dark was standing this time. Wilford had taken his usual spot, knowing full well Dark could handle this. He also knew he had to let the suites ego lead this meeting on his own. The pink moustached male was oddly silent and it mildly intimidated the others. But they knew they didn’t have to worry about him or the one standing. They knew what this was about.

And so Dark laid out the plans to hunt down Actor and kill him. He laid it out plain and simple, making sure everyone was clear on their particular and unique roll to the plan. He was furious, the egos could tell, but he’d started the meeting saying he wasn’t mad at any of them. Far from it. He knew they all cared for them too.

They’d been at the manor for about three years before their death and had built a wonderful relationship with them all. They held a special place in the heart of every ego.

The egos had listening intently the whole time, no one speaking over another. They were furious in their own ways as well. They wanted justice for their friend and were more than willing to help kill Actor.

Dark was going to make sure they brought Actor to his knees and killed him once and for all. For them and for everyone else affected by the actor.

[scrollingkingfisher]

Gabriel Through the Seasons- Control and Self-Deception

An excessively long essay, by me.

Evening peeps! So the topic of Gabriel’s relationship with control came up in the discord last night and it resulted in an entire TED talk which I didn’t even know was in me. So here we go, all tidied up and ready for meta consumption!

So Gabriel’s complex relationship with control is written into his character from the very first time we see him on screen. In Crawford Hall, he orchestrates the whole thing- he punishes people, but it’s always from a safe distance, never getting his hands dirty. He's actively manipulating the Winchesters for the entire time they're there in a similar way. Illusions are one of the first ways that he uses to control situations and keep them at arm’s length- let’s call them his first line of defence. Through them he can distract and confuse, and it means he doesn’t have to get too close to the action, either emotionally or physically. He uses his illusions to give the Winchesters the impression they got the better of him, but really I think that was him sizing them both up, and using his persona as the trickster to keep some emotional distance from the situation- his second line of defence.

Next up- Mystery Spot. Gabriel's control complex comes out big time. The apocalypse is getting closer, Dean's played his cards, Gabriel's family-related trauma is rearing its ugly head from where he'd managed to stash it under all those layers of repression, and the situation is suddenly more immediate than he’d like. So what can he do, both to maintain distance from the situation, get some kind of control over it and to try and avert having to deal with his brothers? Oh look, a convenient vessel of the apocalypse! But he can't just tell him what's gonna go down, because that would require trust, and then the ball would be in Sam's court. Telling Sam what was going to happen would have meant relinquishing control of the situation, and he doesn’t want to get too involved either. Better to stay in his comfort zone of using his alter ego to teach Sam a lesson from a distance. It works out excellently, obviously. Sam is particularly good at cutting to the chase, over the seasons- probably because he has a similar (but not identical) relationship with control and autonomy. And that's the first time we really see Gabriel break character. Then we get to see what imo is probably closer to what he's really feeling. When somebody takes that control of the situation away from him, it makes him either scrabble to get his mask back on, or get incredibly angry and absolutely fucking lose it, or he gets overwhelmed and runs away from the situation. Which is exactly what he does on this particular occasion. Sam calls him out, Gabriel realises that he’s no longer in control here, he gives up on teaching Sam a lesson and he’s off.

Changing Channels is a whole ‘nother ball game. The complete control Gabriel takes over the situation- literally puppeteering them around his own sets- he’s eve controlling their environment. Throwing the Winchesters around and teaching them a lesson like he can't do with their angelic counterparts. Bullying them into playing their roles, because if he can't stop the apocalypse, he needs to feel like he has control over what's happening somehow, yeah? The angry outburst when Dean calls him out. And that anger when provoked is another recurring theme. If I had to guess, I’d say that the anger is another shield, his third and final defence- this time though, it’s a shield against himself, and his own emotions about his situation. Gabriel is not about facing his emotions head on. Repression is the name of the game, and like nearly everybody on SPN, he’s very good at it. And then, finally, the Winchesters know who he is and the layers of deception peel away. Gabriel can't hide any more; they know what he is. He can't run away. And he manages to keep it together, just, but I think it's a close thing, because the bitter resignation as he finally explains to the brothers what's going on? That's as honest as he gets.

Then we get to Hammer of the Gods, and this one's a little different, because as the audience we're seeing Gabriel's shields and attempts to control the situation from a slightly different angle. Gabriel is cool as a cucumber while he's with the other gods, because he NEEDS to be otherwise they'll slaughter him and he knows it (story of his life- he can never trust anyone), but as soon as he's alone with the Winchesters, he drops the act, if not the attempts to control the situation. Then he spends the rest of the episode desperately running around, trying to maintain a series of ever-more-convoluted deceptions, until he finally has to face Lucifer. And as much as I love Gabriel's return, it was absolutely in character here for him to pull one last layer of deception and nope out of the entire thing. He's stressed beyond belief. His brother just nearly stabbed him. He needs some RnR and several liquor stores.

Maybe that's why he lets his guard down with Loki and relinquishes control of the situation. And immediately it's proven why Gabriel can never let his guard down, even with his ‘allies’, because they fucking sell him. Cue eight years of torture. 

 Asmodeus was probably the literal worst thing that could have happened to Gabriel. Because if it had just been pure torture, I think he would have held up quite well. But Asmodeus stripped away Gabriel's control and autonomy. All of it. He’s a slave, but it’s worse than that, they condition him and break him until he doesn’t even run away. And that speech in Unfinished Business? Wow. He felt absolutely violated by what was done to him, and it's never explicitly talked about, but it's made fairly obvious what happened. When he comes back, he has no walls at all, no deceptions, no control over his situation or himself, and he spends the majority of the episode quivering in the back of his own mind. Sam eventually manages to coax him out, but not before showing weakness of his own by basically begging for help, and therefore handing Gabriel a little bit of control back. And then Gabriel finally at the end of the episode manages to gain back a bit of control over his life when he realises there's an opening to kill Asmodeus, and WHAM, the masks are back up, witty quip time, look at me I've got my powers back and I'm gonna burn you in a very Extra way because this rage inside has nothing at all to do with how you ripped my self-control away from me. And then Sam asks for help, and he sees a potential for someone trying to control him again, and obviously, he's gone.

Next up: Unfinished Business. Whoo boy there's a whole lot to unpack here. First off he's hunting the people who sold him. Not because they're posing a threat- they probably still thought he was still with Asmodeus until he started hunting him down- but because they caused him massive trauma and REVENGE SIDEQUEST has a better ring to it than fall-apart-alone-because-I-don't-dare-to-trust-anyone. And Gabriel has to have control over his own reactions even more than he likes to control the people around him. Gabriel never lets himself be vulnerable, even to himself. And he is hurt, and angry, so revenge quest it is! He starts before he's ready, because letting himself wallow is a no-go, so obviously he gets stabbed and ends up with the Winchesters again, because they're his least-worst option. He knows they're hunting for him, but he went to them, so he's in control, right? RIGHT! So he spins the Winchesters a story (dubiously realistic emotional mask of hot babes and decadence ahoy). But obviously Dean's that git who can't keep his fingers out of the emotional cracks, and he pushes a little too far and Gabriel loses control, and we see what Gabriel's feeling again. Or rather, what Gabriel's letting himself feel, and that’s all anger. But under it, reading between the lines, there's the emotions that he can't control, that feeling of incredible vulnerability and violation, of having your control taken from you.  And that carries through to when Loki, who obviously knows him, who Gabriel has obviously confided in previously ("boohoo, Gabriel with his mean older brothers"?), uses his knowledge of that vulnerability to absolutely rip into him, to really grind in the point while he's helpless, and even after he's defeated (by Sam throwing him the sword, not by Gabriel being able to do it himself), there's no celebration, there's no witty quips, because Loki tore down Gabriel's self delusions of control. It's an empty victory. And we see that in the scene outside where he's talking to Sam. The shields are back up, he has control of the situation and himself, and he knows that Sam knows he's faking being "swell" but at least going with the Winchesters provides something to do, a little more control for a little longer. But inside? He's even more vulnerable now, because Loki took away any sort of internal defences he might have had with his little parting speech. This is where his descent begins. His expression when Sam turns away? Absolutely hopeless and dead inside. His self-defence of anger is gone, and that's not a good thing.

I haven't watched the rest of the episodes quite as obsessively, but I'll still do the broad strokes. Getting it on with Rowena? Exercising power and autonomy over his own actions, with a healthy side-helping of "Could a depressed person do this??" He doesn't have as many problems with confronting Lucifer as one might expect, but then again, he's in control. He's got Lucifer drugged up to the nines before he even drops his disguise, and then he takes gleeful advantage of the situation to play with him for a little bit because finally, he's got control over that brother who caused him all that anguish! Revenge is almost second nature at this point. But he never breaks character through the entire confrontation. He maintains that emotional distance. Fast-forward into the apocalypse world, and I think Gabriel is genuinely deeply upset by his inability to heal Sam. One more time where he was absolutely helpless to do shit all, he has no control over the outcome, and he's not raging this time, but he's quiet and withdrawn, and that's a bad sign because he's nearly fresh out of coping mechanisms. Then Lucifer comes back. Gabriel spends the next however long scouting way way out ahead or skulking on the edges of camp, because he knows that this time, the ball will not be in his court, and at the end of the day Gabriel likes to avoid confrontation when at all possible, because why risk it? And we see him slowly sinking deeper into that depression, those thoughts that he'd managed to put off earlier through anger and revenge. He has no power. He has no control over what happens to himself or anyone else. But he manages to hoist the shields up reasonably well when Lucifer corners him, enough to get in a few good quips. But they're pretty damn transparent by this point. He's not cocky any more as he chews Lucifer out. He's just tired. And then Michael attacks, and, well. What do you do when you have no more power over your own trauma, no more leverage or self-belief, and the only control you have is which metaphorical train you throw yourself in front of? 

Gabriel sees one last opportunity to take control of his destiny. 

And he takes it. 

[mobius-prime]

199. Sonic the Hedgehog #131

Deep breaths, guys. I know what the cover page says. I know. We'll get to that. Just hang in there. I think you might like what I have in store.

Home (Part 2 of 4): The Gathering

Writer: Karl Bollers Pencils: Ron Lim Colors: Jason Jensen

So not much actually happens in this installment of Home other than the various characters talking to each other about and preparing for the upcoming battle. Since Sonic has been gone, a new Freedom Fighter Special has been constructed that can cut travel time dramatically around the globe. A journey that in the Tornado or on foot (in Sonic's case) would have taken up to two hours can be completed in a mere half hour now, thanks to Rotor's engineering prowess. And thus, Sonic and Tails head out to Old Megaopolis to stop Eggman's twin nukes from launching, along with an… interesting backup team, to say the least.

Man, remember Fiona? It's been ages since we've seen her! It appears that while Sonic was in space, she joined up with the crew in Knothole and has been helping them fight Eggman. That's definitely a better life for her than to be running with the likes of Nic the Weasel, eh? Meanwhile, Knuckles, Julie-Su, Amy Rose, and the other two (active) members of the Chaotix head to Fort Acorn, where General D'Coolette is giving a speech to the soldiers under his command. We've never even heard of this fort before, but according to the general it's been here for ten years, keeping a forward watch on Robotropolis, and this watch has been maintained even after Robotropolis' destruction in case of just such a situation as the current one. With their reinforcements from Knothole, the crew at the fort prepare to defend the city against a massive swatbot assault to lower the forcefield keeping the radiation in check. Back in Knothole, extra measures are being taken to make absolutely sure that even if the worst happens, the citizenry will be safe.

Station Square, for their part, has sent a squad of GUN commandos to help in the battle at Old Megaopolis. The commander of the military is baffled by this decision, wanting to send in their full fighting force, but the president instead opts to trust his allies from Knothole - though just for insurance, he's sent one of his own operatives along for the ride…

Now that's what I like to see! It's about time Rouge got herself some proper screentime. As all this is going on, Eggman waits aboard a docked battleship in the harbor of Old Megaopolis with his assistant M, and orders A.D.A.M. to begin the missile countdown. However, almost immediately, the sound of a biplane puts them on high alert, and Eggman is shocked to see Sonic and Tails bearing down on his location, not having expected them to be able to get here nearly so fast. See, Eggman, this is why you resist the siren call of your ego and keep your damn plans to yourself. All you did was give your enemies ample warning to prepare to foil your evil plot, you idiot!

Mobius 25 Years Later: Prologue

Writer: Ken Penders Pencils: Steven Butler Colors: Jensen

Okay, guys. This is it. We've reached the most Penders thing of all time. This is something that has been hinted at here and there from all the way back in the Sonic In Your Face special to now, and we're finally seeing the culmination of all of that buildup. All the intricate worldbuilding, all the complex character arcs, all the intrigue and political spider webs and back to back wars and everything that the world of Mobius has been through up until now - there's so much to explore, so many directions it could have gone. We're about to see what this world might look like twenty-five years into the future, and with so much rich history to draw from, what might you imagine this story might look like? What genre might it fall into? Well wonder no longer!

It's a drama. It's a teen drama.

There's a reason that Mobius 25 Years Later is widely considered to be one of the worst parts of the comic. The tone of it is just so far off anything else we've experienced so far that it clashes horribly with what we've come to expect. It's not some masterful subversion of expectations or something - in a lot of ways I consider it to be a genuine insult to the rest of the preboot's material up to this point. It's painfully and immediately clear that this is a story Penders has wanted to tell for a while, but, not being able to fit his "middle-aged adults adulting everywhere and being so adult-like while ignoring the feelings and difficulties that ordinary teenagers face" plot anywhere into the rest of the comic, he's opted to just fire the world a couple decades into the future, pair all the major characters off into weird and oftentimes arbitrary heterosexual marriages, give everyone 2.5 children and a titanium picket fence, and then throw in some allusions to the old "war against Doc 'Botnik" here and there lest we forget, entirely understandably at this point, that we're reading a Sonic the Hedgehog comic here. This thing goes on for nineteen whole issues, taking up each subsequent issue's backup story, and ultimately has no real impact on the actual story involving the characters we already know and love. However, this is technically canon, or at least a version of canon (as when you play with alternate realities and multiple timelines, futures are bound to get mixed up here and there), so we're gonna be covering it - all of it. I wouldn't be tempted to skip it anyway, as by delving into each chapter in this trainwreck, we can actually explore why this whole thing fails so hard, and why it's therefore so loathed in the fandom. Plus, I do recognize that some people actually do enjoy this arc for various reasons (one of my close friends does, and has a whole AU of her own relating to it in fact), so I do plan to at least try to be fair in my review - but I really can't hide that I find this whole affair boring as hell, often downright offensive, and ultimately completely out of place. With all that in mind, let's dive in!

We begin with a full page of exposition delivered to us via high school lecture, because everyone knows the best way to establish your worldbuilding is by infodumping it directly into your audience's eyeballs. Apparently, over the last twenty years, Angel Island has been heavily developed into its own independent republic, with a new city, Portal, acting as the center of trade between the island and the mainland below. We're once again introduced to Lara-Su, who, instead of being the badass time-traveling young adult whom we followed before, is now an ordinary teenager taking ordinary high school classes among a bunch of ordinary high school echidnas.

One of the biggest failings of this story is that Penders writes every teenage character how he thinks teenagers act, from his point of view as a middle-aged adult. This becomes abundantly clear the longer you read, as every teenager is a hormone-fueled, authority-defying, entitled, whiny, fickle child who just doesn't understand how the real world works, while every adult is a wise, experienced, and highly logical individual who always knows more than their younger fellows and refuses to pay attention to the whims of mere children. Like, I'm not even exaggerating here - I'm going to be pointing out every instance of this kind of behavior over the entire rest of this arc, and you can't stop me, so nyah nyah. Penders shows so little respect for the mere concept of teenagers, which is a terrible attitude to have not just in general, but especially if you're one of the head writers for an entire series about teenagers saving the goddamn world! Anyway, case in point: the teacher, instead of admonishing Rutan for being a bully, merely snaps at Lara-Su for not acting enough like a "young lady" and tells her to stay after class. Ugh.

Later that day, Rotor arrives on Angel Island as a liaison for the royal ruling couple, Queen Sally and King Sonic, because yes, Sonic literally becomes king in this timeline. He catches a ride from Harry - hey, good to see our favorite dingo still doing well for himself at least - and meets with Espio, who is now apparently Knuckles' secretary or something. At least, that's all I can assume from this weird-ass conversation.

As a matter of fact, yes, Sonic and Sally are bringing their two children, Sonia and Manik, to the family dinner! How very mid-70s domestic family unit of them! Espio informs Knuckles of this over a television screen as the latter broods around in some kind of high-tech facility. Unlike what we've seen of Espio, the years have dramatically changed Knuckles' appearance - his right eye is missing, replaced with a mechanical one, and he sports the cowboy hat that Hawking gave him in the past (you know, the one we never saw again after he received it). While I actually quite like the idea of a main character in the comic losing something as important as an eye, I feel like there's a huge missed opportunity here - instead of just thrusting us into an alternate future where everything is fine but one character is inexplicably missing an eye, how about actually showing us the story of how that eye was lost? Show us a Knuckles who's learning to cope with the loss of an important body part, and having to adjust to his mechanical prosthetic! Go into his feelings about the subject, as someone who has so long been opposed to a faction that thrives on mechanical prosthetics, instead of just skipping over what has the potential to be the most interesting part of this story! Ugh, sorry, there's just nothing that gets to me more than a missed opportunity like this. Knuckles and Espio exchange some tortured small-talk about their kids for a little while, with the only interesting part of the conversation being their discussion of Rotor's arrival and how he's likely here to see someone named Cobar, with whom he apparently has a history. More on that later. Knuckles excuses himself from the conversation, as he has to be home in time for his daughter's "Unveiling" tonight, and as the call ends we zoom out to see that apparently nowadays, the Master Emerald is hooked up to all sorts of technology in this facility, presumably maintaining everything automatically. However, this story isn't done throwing weird curveballs at us yet - it's time to see what our former villains are up to in this future!

There is so much to unpack here. Dimitri, feared overlord of the Dark Legion, is now an amiable cyborg-head-in-a-bubble. Lien-Da, the treacherous second-in-command who regularly spoke of betraying Dimitri and taking the Legion in her own darker direction, is now apparently a single mom who's embraced the domestic life, taking care of her rowdy teenage son while, predictably, complaining about the behavior of kids these days. And weirdest of all, apparently everyone is just fine with these literal former terrorists living in their midst and doing ordinary mom and grandpa things, with Lien-Da even apparently amenable to the idea of trying to make up with Julie-Su because "they're family," despite her history of, you know, erasing Julie-Su's memory multiple times and killing her biological parents as revenge for her birth. I mean, is this what Penders thinks adulthood is? Is he even entirely sane? Does he know the definition of terrorism?

Any-goddamn-way, Knuckles arrives home to his eerily sterile-looking steel-plated mansion that looks more like the lobby of a pharmaceutical laboratory than a place where people live, and greets his loving housewife Julie-Su, who's gained a cute giant ponytail but lost absolutely everything else that made her unique, including her own cybernetic parts and just her personality in general. She informs Knuckles that Lara-Su has locked herself in the bathroom and is having herself a mighty tantrum, refusing to come out to get ready for her Unveiling ceremony, which is apparently the equivalent of a Quinceañera for echidna girls. Knuckles, instead of doing something reasonable like asking her why she's upset, starts aggressively demanding that she come out of her room this instant, while Lara-Su repeatedly yells about how she doesn't wanna. Ugh, teenagers, amiright?

Seriously, I just can't get over how little respect Penders has for teenagers in his writing. Like, yes, I acknowledge that teenagers aren't always the most logical of beings, but they're also not goddamn three-year-olds either. They're old enough to articulate their desires and express their unique opinions, and often do so in very mature ways, especially if they're raised well and treated with the same respect you'd afford any adult. I should know, I was one myself. I would have assumed Penders was one as well at some point, but perhaps he just popped into the world one day as a fully-formed 43-year-old, full of disdain for those younger than himself. It would certainly explain everything we're seeing here.

Anyway, it turns out that the reason Lara-Su is upset is because Knuckles refuses to train her to be a Guardian, and so she whines and yells about it from behind the door like a petulant child as Knuckles continually refuses to actually give her a solid reason why he won't let her be one. When Julie-Su basically forces him to calm the hell down and explain himself, he reluctantly explains that since all the duties of a Guardian have by now been taken over by other functions of their society, he feels there's no longer any need for one, himself included. This is apparently enough to make Lara-Su immediately happy enough to burst out of the bathroom and grab her father's arm, suddenly totally excited to go to her Unveiling as long as Knuckles promises her the first dance. Ah, the fickle mind of a silly, silly teenager!

Kill me.