#and to guard against accusations of pissing on the poor:

[throw-your-boat]

i mean, funny comment and all, but the reading comprehension that went into making it really is quora tier

like oop is clearly saying they (think they) found a way to disprove the riemann hypothesis by contradiction by showing that it implies that an obviously composite number is prime. factoring the number does nothing to dismiss that (alleged) proof b/c being able to do that is like half of oop's point?

[themarginalthinker]

for @berd-alert a little something to get you through the day. a half-finished scene based on potential events that may happen in our current vtm campaign. based off that goofy ship scene in Treasure Planet. Enjoy, darling.

-

Dean peers around the corner.

The grand hall of the Met was empty this time of night - of humans. His eyes flickered to and fro, from dark corner to the railings of the galleries above. They hadn't had an issue getting in, as one lonely ghouled door guard made for pretty piss-poor security, but simply not seeing anyone didn't mean no-one was there.

Nosferatu weren't the only ones with Obfuscate, and disappearing was the least the ability could do.

Still, Dean reasons, if anyone was going to jump them to keep them from going further, they'd have done it by now. He waves his hand.

"Alright, you know the plan. I'm going to try and get to the offices up there, you-"

"Go for the cameras! I know, Dean!"

Dean hisses as Rigby's voice bounces out across the wide open of the grand hall, accusing, miffed, and above all else, loud. He swings about and lands a hand on the smaller vampire's face, palm smack over his mouth.

"Does the word 'stealth' mean anything to you?" He grits out between elongated fangs.

What he gets for his troubles is a hand wet with cold, pink Kindred spit.

"No one around," Rigby says when Dean's taken back his arm and is furiously wiping it on his shirt.

"That we know of," Dean sighs. "Look, as much as...we have to trust that she's got her reasons for doing this, Parthena is still technically going against her sect here."

"Stolen books for stolen magic from stolen blood," Rigby nods.

Something like that. If they were going to get anything, it was going to be from the Tremere and it wasn't going to be easy. Parthena had told them Sturbridge had made that more than clear, as intrigued as she was by the (totally hypothetical) notion of something like Sammy.

Dean casts a last look out at the room, just in case something had changed, which after a minute it appeared it hadn't, and then nods to Rigby.

Like a baggy-coated flash of light, the Malkavian was off, making for the stairs that would lead down to the security offices and other electronic control centers for the building. As much as the art was kept under so much lock and key, Dean knew there was other, more precious things to be had that employed defenses far more effective than a simple magnetic strip lock on the door. Keeping the mundane authorities away for even a few minutes could mean the difference between finally getting some answers, and. Well.

Dean just wouldn't think of the possibility of failure.

-

"One door, two door, grey door...more grey door..." Rigby hummed to himself as he trawled the labyrinth of corridors and hallways. The building above was much nicer, with much more natural lighting. Everything looked the same.

Floor one, exit. Stairwell, emergency exit. Exibibits 1-5.

Rigby blinked at the words as they cast their shadows and seared lines into his vision. Could mean anything. Could mean nothing.

"One wire, and no stress, wire me a line, 'cause I've got a ticket to ri-ide..." he sighs, rounding another corner.

A sound reaches his ears, and Rigby is suddenly still as the living dead. They won't see him if he doesn't move, and Rigby has no intentions to. Eyes sweep from side to side. to his destination - nothing. To the hallway just past - nothing there.

Like a strobe in front of his eyes, green and red and electric and leaving trails in his vision, Exit. Exit. Exit. E x it x. T iTexit EEEEEExiExtii-

"Soon," Rigby says to the sign in the reflection of the shiny floor.

It settles it enough to find the door he needs.

Unlocking it, and pulling it open, he is face to face with a room of circuit breakers in metal cages of chain-link. Dimly lit, thankfully, just a few halogen security bulbs keeping the place only just navigable by mortal eyes, casting long, orange streaks between the shadows. The floor was concrete and bare, cables snaking here and there (all in orderly fashion, of course.)

Rigby steps in an closes the door behind him.

Exhibits 1-5, Exhibits 6-11, EEEEEExhibits 12-13-

Ah.

Rigby pauses in his wandering and reading. His foot just above taking another step.

On the ground before him, in possibly the darkest shadow yet, was something....something. It gleamed wetly, slugishly. Long lines, fading away into the concrete ground in rounds and shapes. Rigby blinked hard, and Looked.

Those long lines now formed an even wider shape, with even more inside. A circle. Drawn in dark, thick, old vitae.

Rigby tilts his head.

He bites his thumb, cold blood rising in a dot to the surface, and he reaches out.

-

Dean had been told where he'd find what the head of the Chantrey wanted, but it seemed finding that was going to be its own adventure. He darted from corner to corner, using his passcard as often as he was able. The offices of the Met were as lovingly (and expensively) decorated as the rest of the place, and Dean more than suspected that some of the art that likely should have been out on show or kept in the archives was in fact adorning the walls and hallways of the desk drudgery of people with too much time and money on their hands.

He was no Indiana Jones, though. It was all technically in a museum, and he didn't really care either way. Not what he was concerned about.

Finally, he came to a door. This door was just like any other door in the winding mess of office space, save for one, tiny detail he'd been told to look for.

Near the bottom, almost touching the floor, scratched into the wood of the door, was a little symbol.

A half-circle, the open end of it facing down, and from that a cross.

A little, line-art ankh.

If he could breath, he'd have huffed out a relieved puff. Good. The Tremere hadn't lied. Yet.

Dean reaches out and grasps the handle of the door, lifting his keycard to open it, when something,

happens.

All of a sudden, it's like all the air in the building is gone. No, it's - it's like it's inverted, like Dean is breathing backwards rather than even as his dead body still can, and, in each, the taste of blood - Kindred blood - coats his mouth.

Almost as quickly as it had happened, it stops. Dean blinks, but

then something else.

He's in the air. He's suddenly unmoored from the bounds of gravity, as though it had simply stopped working. Dean flails, a cry at his lips he barely suppresses as he writhes in the air, only managing to flip himself around. Around him, nothing else has changed, it's just him, though, as he watches, a potted plant in the corner begins to, before his eyes, wither and die, and the leaves crumble to dead, dried dust.

And just as before, suddenly, it stops.

Dean does let out a too-hearty "fuck!" as he's suddenly dropped five feet back to the floor, landing almost on his own head.

Growling, he stands, panic felt in every follicle of hair and every nerve end.

"That crazy fucking Malk is gonna get us-"

Dean doesn't have half a moment before there's long, steel-enforced, bony claws smashing into the wood where his head had been less than a second before, the both of them inhumanly fast.

Dean whips around, fangs out, reflexes on edge and powered by his own blood as he rounds on his attacker.

They're a woman -at least, he thinks so - who stands hunched and glaring at him. She's wearing clothing that one could call 'streets-chic' as having known Rigby, this is a rich man's imitation of the fashions of those without means to buy clothing often. Fitted black hoodie, long dark cowl hood that frames choppy, short blond hair, jeans that look like their pockets and belts might pack a bit more heat if the kevlar vest she was also wearing was anything to go by.

One arm, the one she'd extended to attempt to impale his head with, retreated and he could see the massive, hooked claws that sunk back into the skin. The knuckles of that hand were adorned with metal claws to match.

Her eyes, narrowed in rage at her miss, were slitted and green.

Cat. Animal.

Dean didn't have a chance to rattle off anything scathing about a Gangrel playing housecat to the Camarilla before something

happened.

Suddenly, the world was black. A humming, dark abyss that surrounds them both, that eats the world. If there is anything beyond this, it's impossible to tell. And from the sounds of it, the harsh cry almost lost in the living void around them, the Gangrel woman is feeling this too.

-

"Not that, oh bad Rigby! DON'T WORRY DEAN I GOT IT!" Rigby shouts to himself as he Sees beyond Seeing in order to even find the circle again in the Oblivion he'd accidentally inflicted upon the building, biting his hand for the third time and starts re-re-writing what he'd changed.

-

Dean wonders if this is what it's like to see for the first time when the endless, choking darkness was suddenly gone as though it had never been there, because shit, even the office hallway looked like the light of fucking God after that.

For a moment, Dean and the Gangrel can only blink stupidly at each other.

Dean then turns, and with all the quickening that's left in his body, runs.

[cryptidkeepp]

(hero finnes tiffin) [THE CRIMSON. Please welcome [SAINT JACKSON (HE/HIM)] to Huntsville, WV. They are a [26]-year-old [RESIDENT] who lives in [TOWN]. You may see them around working as a [SECURITY AT HUNTSVILLE SUPPLY WAREHOUSE ]. Poor unfortunate soul. We’ll see if they survive.

GENERAL.

full name: saint ulysses jackson

title: the crimson

nicknames: tbd

status: dating wilde iverson

hunter / gatherer: hunter

birthplace: huntsville, west virginia

gender / pronouns: cis man, he/him

age / birthday: 26, march 24th

orientations: heterosexual, heteroromantic

occupation: security at huntsville supply warehouse

location: town, resident

family: rhett jackson ( father, deceased ), thomas jackson ( brother, deceased ), foster siblings

character inspo: bobby briggs (twin peaks), diego hargreeves (the umbrella academy), carl gallagher (shameless), billy hargrove (stranger things), alex karev (grey's anatomy), tim riggins (friday night lights), john bender (the breakfast club), john murphy (the 100)

strengths: protective, observant, loyal, resilient, strong

weaknesses: aggressive, rude, guarded, pessimistic, apathetic

BIOGRAPHY.

tw: alcoholism, violence, death, abuse, neglect

grew up in a rough household in huntsville, mother passed away giving birth to his younger brother and after that his dad (who already wasn’t the best father) checked out

when his father did come around he was an unbearable asshole, saint often got into it with him - matching his anger and asking him when he was going to stop drinking and running off and be a real dad, among other accusations. they often ended in saint getting 'taught a lesson' or later full blown fist fights when he was old enough to defend himself. he tried to keep his brother out of the mix of it as best he could.

they were in and out of foster care, saint often running away from them when they tried to get too controlling. he'd always been a shithead but his upbringing didn't make it much better.

when he was fourteen everything changed. the storm rolled through, and shit hit the fan. when his brother was taken by the monsters that reaked havoc through the town, his father was the one who demanded people hold saint back while he went to go get him back. saint fought against the arms holding him, they taped his mouth shut to keep him quiet until he eventually passed out from exhaustion. when morning came, they found both bodies among those lost.

after that he was permanently placed in foster care until he turned eighteen and this time he had no choice but to stay inside. his only refuge was sneaking out before nightfall and staying with a friend or at the commune. he’s always had a burning rage inside of him, craving violence and been generally pissed off at the world around him. he'll tell you it's because he’s felt the need to fight for survival since birth, but truthfully he doesn't know where it came from.

his moral code is very gray, he stole things often growing up some because they needed clothes or to eat or keep lights on, other times it was something he wanted or his little brother needed to stop people from picking on him for hand me down clothes and what not

the only thing that seemed to help with all the bottled up anger was drinking, smoking, or getting into fights. at some point he discovered running, which does help some and he tries to do it along with working out but it still doesn't completely cure his explosive anger completely.

as far as the fights went he either got into them organically or picked them out of spite or the need to unleash some of the rage bottled up inside him. the anger got better, with some work, when his best friend came back to town and a little more after he met wilde iverson

wilde quickly became his person and has stayed that way whether they were together or not - they are who he goes to when he needs comfort or to calm down and they are one of two people who know the saint that exists under all the walls

despite not liking most people and generally being unsociable, he doesn’t like to be alone so he ends up at a lot of parties or out in public spaces, off to the side observing and attempting to stay out of trouble

wilde moved in with him eventually after she came to town, it’s never really known if they are dating or not but them being each other’s support system never changes - he got a job as security and it suits him well. he still drinks quite a bit and sometimes he worries he's turning into his father. as far as the future goes he doesn’t think about it much, he was never afforded that luxury and what kind of future is there to look forward to in a place like huntsville?

QUICK CONNECTIONS.

best friend who's from town but left and came back post paradox

foster siblings from over the years

people that took him in sometimes

main foster parents post paradox

people he's fought or gets into fights with

enemies

drinking buddies

past hookups / exes

HEADCANONS.

has a bunch of tattoos and is always looking to get more. notably he has his mom and brothers names tattooed over his heart.

he's been arrested several times, definitely brought in and put in a cell and told to sober up more times than he can count.

more coming soon to a theater near you

[deusexlachina]

Antisocial DAO Part 13 (Denerim II): Meet three people even more socially inept than me

With Arl Eamon saved by the (last remaining portion of) the Urn of Sacred Ashes, he calls a Landsmeet, a gathering of all the nobles, so we can get a better ruler than Loghain because he sucks.

Anora, Loghain's daughter, is the ostensible ruler of Ferelden, but she's currently locked away in the estate of Loghain's toady Howe, making her as useful as ever. But it'd be bad if she was murdered and we were blamed, so we have to save her. Howe says we're doing this because Eamon is losing faith in the persuasive power of the Landsmeet, which is a fair accusation, since I have repeatedly demonstrated no persuasive power whatsoever.

With Howe dead, I free his prisoners. In a display of social ineptitude even worse than mine, Vaughan not only volunteers that elves were rioting against him, but, when I ask why, suggests that elves are prickly, lazy troublemakers. He is talking to an elf. With a Murder Knife.

It's possible to trick this guy into giving you the key to his chest, which contains 40 gold, without freeing him. But I Am Socially Inept, which is just as well, because it's more cathartic to stab this fucker.

By killing Howe and his guards, I can now open Anora's room. She follows me in disguise for about a minute before we are arrested by Ser Cauthrien. I explain Anora was being held captive, a story Anora actively undermines. She later attributes this to My Being Socially Inept, since I should have kept her cover.

This is the one time in the game I'm accused of being socially inept and it isn't completely fair. What was Anora's plan here? Presumably she was hoping I could win against Cauthrien and her men - the hardest boss fight unless you piss off Paragon "Stunlock" Caridin - and also hoping that they wouldn't notice that she was travelling with me and they'd spare what for all they know is a redshirt working for their enemy.

Alternatively, she was counting on me being spared, put in jail, and then getting an opportunity to break out, which is quite possible, but then she doesn't do anything to help you escape. Really, the most sensible thing to do is tell Cauthrien the truth, except Anora sabotages you. The most plausible explanation is she just chickened out.

Fortunately for Anora, I am both strong enough to slaughter Cauthrien's small army and so used to people turning on me that I take this betrayal in stride instead of killing her too.

I take Anora back to Eamon's Stately Manor and she asks to speak with me. Because I Am Socially Inept, I wait a nice long time to answer this important invitation, instead dropping by Alistair's sister's house because he whines about not seeing her. This is a ridiculous task, but it's right next to Eamon's estate and I need Alistair at his least whiny. Alistair's sister selfishly expects him to financially contribute to his own very large, poor, family, which hurts his feelings. Alistair unwisely goes to me for social advice, so I explain, from my experience, that people are just jerks who always say no to you and for some reason can't be persuaded. Rather than being less of a jerk to compensate, Alistair concludes that he should get in on this jerk stuff. He decides to look out for himself more.

Alistair has been Hardened, making him more cynical. A similar mechanic exists for Leliana and Shrek. I would love to Harden Leliana, but she left me just because I defiled her prophetess' remains and unsuccessfully lied about it. It was for a good cause, Leli!

But back to Alistair. A Hardened Alistair is more willing to be King, making him both a vastly better ruler and the one white person in history who has gotten better politics by deciding to be more of a selfish dick.

Now that Alistair has realized that politics matter because his sister was rude to him, I take Anora's advice to investigate the Alienage, on the grounds that the elves who live in this disease-ridden ghetto and are routinely persecuted would have no reason to be rioting unless Loghain was up to something. Anora follows this reasoning because she is to politics as I am to basic social interactions and personal hygiene.

Despite her premises being nonsense, her conclusion happens to be right. To pay for his civil war, Loghain has been selling elves to a blood mage, Caladrius. But Caladrius is only the second deadliest blood mage in the room, so all four of us whale on him.

Having social graces on par with Vaughan, Caladrius tries to induce me to let him go by offering to sacrifice all of his elven slaves with blood magic, even though this was exactly what I was trying to stop him from doing. And I am an elf. This is his second attempt to surrender to me, and the first one was that I pay him 100 gold.

This ritual gives you a single point of constitution, the most insultingly small reward for the single most dickish action in the game. I decline his offer by showing him my own, much better blood magic spell that defiles the blood of all of my enemies, slowly killing them as they helplessly writhe in pain. Can you do that, Caladrius? No. Because you're a poser. Leave the real blood magic to the goth girls.

Having gathered a ton of evidence to nail Loghain with, it's time to call the Landsmeet.

[gamebird]

My experience with this is from The Old Guard fandom. The fics called out as being racist fell into two categories, neither of which are against AO3's terms of service. That's part of what the antis were pissed about - AO3 would do nothing, so they proposed organizing a campaign to find a way to harass the authors out of the fandom or find some pretext that would get AO3 to remove the fics.

These "racist" fics were:

Fics where Joe (darker-skinned) topped Nicky (lighter-skinned). No racial slurs were used. These fics were not aimed at any particular user. They were good-faith horny fics written by people who wanted to see the pairing in that particular dynamic. The sheer number of J/N as compared to N/J was considered grounds for claims of fandom/institutional racism.

One particular fic that used the bog-standard fanfic trope of sexual slavery. Poor, perfect Nicky was sold off to the rich local lord Joe, who fell in love with him, they had sex with dubious levels of consent, etc. Race was never mentioned. The setting was fantasy Europe-ish. However, this fic in particular was decried as being horrifically racist. The author abandoned it.

There were also two related upsets about fanart. In one, Joe was portrayed as a chibi-style octopus man, very cute. Nicky was a chibi-style medusa, I think. The outcry was that Joe was portrayed as a half-human monster due to his race. The other art was a funko-pop type doll of Joe. The original posted picture of it in the sunlight looked light-skinned. The accusation was white-washing. Another picture of the same doll in interior light showed it was significantly darker.

There you have it.

So, is it actually true that racist stuff is against the terms of service? Given the way "racist stuff" is currently being defined by those involved, the answer is no. Racist stuff like above examples 1 and 2 are NOT against AO3's terms of service.

Go read Stitch's 5/30/23 Teen Vogue article about End-OTW-Racism. It's very clear that anyone not anti-racist in exactly the way Stitch wants you to be anti-racist is, "you've guessed it: a racist."

If being racist is defined as I've seen it, then yep, most of us are racists, fandom is racist, AO3 is racist, and I'm bothered by assholes doing the same thing with 'racist' as has happened to 'pedophile' and 'child pornography' - making the terms useless.

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/719066981349933057/i-get-what-the-anon-whos-pro-stitch-is-going-for

God I'd love to actually discuss how to make things better instead of talking about Stitch or whothefuckever.

One thing that's been mentioned is that racist abuse and harassment are already against TOS. I would love to know from a wider set of voices if 1) this is actually true, 2) if this is actually true in their experience, i.e. how well it's enforced, 3) if there's a difference between it occurring in directed interactions (i.e. comments), fic tags, places like bookmarks, etc.

(Yes I could look up 1 and its exact nuances and phrasings myself but I currently only have time to shoot off this one ask so I'm just doing that)

--

A lot of the past discussion I saw was about blocking and muting features, but those have been added to AO3. IDK what's next on a practical level.

[delimeful]

carry them home (3)

warnings: arguing, mentions of murder/death, tension, cliffhanger

A/N: previous chapter's mention of Silver Guard changed to Iron Guard because i got my lycanthropes and my faeries mixed up :P

-

“Good afternoon,” Janus started, because if he was to be stripped of the element of surprise, he was at least going to handle the situation with grace. “I’m afraid there’s been a bit of a misund– ahm.”

He cut his sentence short, since two undersized hands had descended to pull at his cheeks with a careless, borderline-painful level of strength. Janus didn’t allow himself to wince or sputter at the childish gambit, simply narrowing his eyes and raising his eyebrows slightly into something unamused as he felt crumbs of dried mud tumble off his face.

“Re!” the fire sprite hissed, frozen where he was hovering above the others. “What are you doing?”

“Instigating,” Re replied, the shit-eating grin audible even though he was still standing behind Janus. “He broke Lo’s magic, so I’m tryin’ to see if he can blow someone up with his brain or something.”

Did that imply the kid was trying to get himself blown up?

“My magic didn’t fail,” Logan snapped, hurriedly climbing back to his feet. “Remus, let go of him. Explain yourself.”

Janus resisted the urge to grimace, the sour taste of compulsion rolling on the back of his tongue and then fading away as his makeshift blood rune drained the command of all its power. “Right, because that wasn’t exactly what I was just doing.”

The effect of his words– clearly unburdened by Logan’s charmspeak– was instantaneous, all the children growing tense and shifting closer to each other. Logan’s face went pinched and cold, the fire sprite looked downright alarmed, and Vee looked alarmed and pissed.

On his shoulders, Remus’s hands bit down with bruising force, a clear warning. “Do you want me to kill him?” he asked eagerly, as though excited about the very concept.

“Now, now,” Janus smoothly intercepted before Logan could respond. “That would be a rather poor way to repay a debt, wouldn’t it?”

The words, as always, held weight.

The tufts of feathers that lined Logan’s pointed ears flattened back, giving him the look of an angry cat. “You said you wanted the ring. It was a fair exchange.”

The utter naivete of that little accusation was enough to make Janus sigh, only riling the siren up further. “Humans lie, kid. But for the record, I was actually talking about your sense of hospitality. I offered you no malintent back in town, even gave you advice, and for all my graciousness, I currently seem to be… ah, yes, abducted and held against my will.”

“You unraveled my disguise in a dangerous place,” Logan returned, though some of the certainty had faded from his sharp tone. “I had no promise of safety from you.”

“And clearly, nor I from you,” Janus returned dryly. “I can tell you now, I had no intention of revealing you to the townsfolk, or anyone for that matter.”

The information didn’t seem to be as reassuring as Janus would’ve liked.

“Humans lie,” Logan echoed, his wings mantling slightly as he crossed his arms.

Using his own words against him. The kid was a quick learner, Janus thought with a smidge of amusement.

“True, but the proof is in my actions, not my words. If I wanted to cause you harm, all I would’ve needed to do was pull off your hood in the middle of a town currently crawling with the Iron Guard,” he told them, wishing his hands were untied so he could spread them in an extravagant flourish.

If his magic resistance had startled the children into wariness, his mention of the most notorious fae-hunting guild on the continent was enough to make most of them drop into downright fear.

“The Guard?” Vee spat, shrugging off Pat’s hands to struggle to his feet. “You’re full of it. This is way out of their normal routes.”

How curious, that a fae would speak so confidently about the routes of a hunter guild. Janus would have worried about it more if it wasn’t so clear that there was no lost love between the two.

Instead, he met the child’s poisonous glare evenly. “It is. But there was a sighting of a winged witch at the nearby spring, and so they came swarming down in hopes they’d get a shot at their most notorious enemy.”

Vee’s dark-edged eyes went suddenly wide, and behind him, Patton clasped his hands together in front of his chest and squealed excitedly, sounding remarkably similar to river ice creaking under the force of a current.

Re whooped loudly in response, and the flickering edges of the fire sprite seemed to solidify slightly as a hesitant, hopeful smile grew on his face as well.

Janus narrowed his eyes curiously. That was… not at all the sort of reaction he’d expected for news about the Guard.

“We must be getting close!” Patton said, the edges of his voice still burbling slightly.

“It might not be him,” Vee warned, but even he seemed oddly heartened. “Until we see evidence of the Guard, we don’t even know if the human is being honest or not. And even if it’s true, it’s still probably not him.”

“But it could be him!” the fire sprite returned brightly. “This could be just the lead we need to get our quest back on track!”

“And we could fight hunters on the way!” Remus added, a malicious grin audible in his voice.

“Nope.” Vee pointed at him with the stubborn sternness of someone who’d clearly learned to cut these ideas off at the root. “We are not doing that.”

“There’s no reason to abandon our plan just because of a rumor of a sighting,” Logan cut in, running a hand through his wing to carefully smooth down his ruffled feathers. “Vee’s foresight is a far more reliable method of guidance than hearsay from humans.”

Vee’s face scrunched up with uncertainty. “Is it, though?”

“What if the witch needs our help?” Patton asked, fingers worrying at the edge of his damp shirt. “The Guard could be after him, he could be in danger!”

“We could rescue him!” the fire sprite chimed in, gesturing valiantly with an ember-red hand that was visible within the flames. “And then he’d have to take us with him, right?”

“What happened to figuring out if we could trust him first?” Vee protested, turning half-away from Janus to pointedly cross his arms at the optimistic duo. “We’re not risking getting captured by the Guard for an adult we don’t even know!”

The fire sprite scowled, but Logan cut him off before he could respond.

“If he can’t even defend himself against the Guard, he’s not strong enough to protect us,” he said coldly. “We’re better off trying to find the haven itself.”

The pieces finally clicked together in Janus’s mind.

Oh. How… ironic.

“Ah, I see,” Janus said, and the attention of every child there immediately snapped back to him. “You’re seeking Sanctuary.”

An overlapping cavalcade of voices responded, ranging from “You know about Sanctuary?” to “We don’t have time for this,” to “What would you know about Sanctuary?”

Seeing as Logan was looking a few seconds from deciding to try a second round of enchantment on him, Janus chose to focus on the last one. “I know that it’s not real.”

Patton’s eyes went watery so quickly, it was as though Janus had personally kicked a puppy in front of him or something. Virgil stepped in front of him like he could physically shield him from the words, making a noise like a very angry rattlesnake.

“Many fairytales have a considerable basis in reality,” Logan replied, his expression somehow becoming even more closed off. “That you choose to not believe in the possibility is not—,”

Janus couldn’t help the bitter snort, shaking his head. “Oh, I certainly believed it. Right up until we were standing at the supposed gilded gates and found nothing but dirt and ash.”

“You were seeking Sanctuary?” the fire sprite asked, drifting a bit closer. His feet barely skimmed the ground as he moved, Janus noted with mild curiosity. The sprite was certainly the most ethereal of the lot.

Janus shrugged, forcing a casual air over the old, infected wound that was his experience with Sanctuary. “Fae aren’t the only ones that want to get away from the Guard. I'm telling you now: you're wasting your time. Give it up.”

There was a short gap of silence as that sunk in, and then–

“Liar,” Vee accused, his voice rough and those inky tear tracks visibly darkening. “You don’t know anything!”

Janus rolled his eyes. “Of course, of course. Since I’m so clueless, I’m sure you all wouldn’t mind letting me be on my way?”

“Not a chance,” said Vee, in a tone that promised violence.

“No,” said Logan in the same moment, his tone considerably more contemplative.

“No?” Janus asked, raising an eyebrow in silent judgment of his decision-making skills.

“No,” Logan confirmed. “We’re going to continue on our path to Sanctuary, and you’re coming with us.”

“I’m what,” Janus said flatly.

He’s what?” Three other pre-puberty voices shrieked at varying levels of horror and/or glee.

“A new friend!” Patton cheered, possibly the only person in the clearing who was actually fine with this.

“No, Patton—,” Logan sighed. “We’re taking him prisoner. Having a human around will be advantageous, and if he’s as familiar with the Guard’s typical routes as he claims, it will decrease the risk of our journey significantly.”

“By introducing a whole new risk?” Vee asked, his hands twitching as though he wanted to grab Logan’s shoulders and shake the sense back into him.

“Forcing him is kind of mean, isn’t it?” Patton said with a frown. “Why don’t we just ask for his help, instead?”

“Because, at the moment, there is no evidence to suggest that he is at all trustworthy, and I am not willing to bet any of our lives on a human’s word,” Logan told him firmly. “Let me be entirely clear: if we aren’t taking him with us, we are killing him.”

Patton seemed almost as displeased about the possibility as Janus. “No killing!”

“Dibs on the body!” Remus shouted.

“Dibs on the murder,” Vee grumbled, still glaring.

“I dunno, Lo,” the fire sprite mused. “I’ve never heard of a quest where the guide is a human.”

Logan inhaled, pinched the bridge of his nose for a good few seconds, and then exhaled slowly with a sort of exhaustion that Janus suspected was a side effect of managing four other fae children.

“I suppose,” the siren said dryly, “that we’ll just have to be the first.”

This seemed to be enough to intrigue the other child, though Janus was under no illusion that the fire sprite would particularly care if they ended up choosing the more lethal method of ‘dealing with the human’.

The siren turned and approached him, his magic stirring tangibly in the air. “Shall we figure out the terms of our Deal, then?”

The hairs on the back of Janus’s neck prickled, old memories and phantom pains alike making themselves known at the offer.

In the back of his mind, a little voice encouraged him to turn the tables: offering him exactly the wording he needed to twist this Deal into something that would hurt the other party instead of him in a vicious whisper. It wouldn’t be hard. He’d tricked more powerful opponents before.

With a low exhale, he straightened his back and looked at the ones in front of him directly. The children in front of him, no matter their origins.

“No,” he told them all, his voice composed and unbending. “I’d prefer to be a prisoner over a casualty, but not if it requires making a Deal.

“Find another way to ensure I won’t betray you, or follow through on your promised threat and kill me.”

[cdelphiki]

“Fuck.”

Jason’s spoon clanked into his bowl, as he dropped it and fumbled for the remote. He’d been watching Jeopardy! with the volume low. Half the fun of the game was answering the questions himself, and really, the idiots on the show were often just distracting.

But Jeopardy! wasn’t on the screen anymore.

The Joker was.

The Joker and the current Robin.

“—play a game, shall we?” Joker said, and Jason just cursed louder as he tossed his cereal on the coffee table and jumped up.

“Hrnn,” Robin groaned, when the camera panned to him, “Who’d want to play with you?”

Fucking brat.

The poor kid looked in rough shape. His mask was slightly ripped, showing off a massive bruise right under one of his eyes. His fat lip and the blood trickling down his chin didn’t help much, either.

Oh, yeah. And the fact he was tied up and inside a tiny little cage.

How the hell had Joker got his hands on Robin?

Never mind, Jason thought, as he kicked around the shit on his floor, freeing the various pieces of his Red Hood uniform, he knew exactly how Robin got himself captured.

Batman was out of town.

And he’d left Robin in charge of Gotham.

Like a fucking moron.

“Uh, uh uh,” Joker said, “That’s no way to behave. Be a good little birdy.”

Robin groaned, when Joker stuck a stick inside Robin’s cage, and jabbed him in the side. He pressed a button, and Tim’s groan turned to a scream as he was electrocuted.

Jason grimaced.

“Now,” Joker continued, through a laugh, “The answer is ‘Topeka.’”

Joker’s stupid fucking laugh.

Jason should not be helping the bats.

He did not help the bats. The bats hated him. And, sure, they had good reason to, but it just meant Jason shouldn’t be helping them out of principle!

Why help people who hate your guts and wish you were still dead?

The bats are out of town, his mind helpfully reminded him, they can’t save Robin. And like hell was Jason going to let Joker kill another Robin.

“Shit,” he mumbled, as he grabbed his helmet and shoved it on his head. All he needed was his guns, now.

“Come now, Robin,” Joker said, “You’re disappointing the viewers at home.”

“No, you’re disappointing the viewers,” Jason snapped, as he placed three guns into his holsters, and grabbed his spare magazines, checking to make sure each was full. “No one wants to watch the fucking Joker fuck with a little kid.”

Even if that little kid was Tim Drake. And annoying as fuck.

The camera zoomed back on Robin’s face, and Robin finally mumbled out, “Capital of Kansas.”

Robin screamed, again, when Joker jabbed him with the shock stick, and Jason growled.

He grabbed his tablet and hacked into the batcomputer in record time. He wasn’t sure if Bruce knew he could still do that, but at the moment he was fucking glad he hadn’t been caught yet.

“You didn’t phrase your answer in the form of a question! Haven’t you ever watched Jeopardy!? That’s what the good folks want right now.”

“Fuck, kid,” Jason mumbled, as he triangulated a location on Robin’s tracker, “Where are you?”

Only Robin’s tracker was listed in Gotham, too. No one else was around. Not Alfred. Not Batgirl. No one.

Why the fuck did Bruce keep leaving Robin all alone?

Hadn’t he learned his lesson the first time?

Tim groaned on screen again, making Jason draw his gun and unload the full clip on the screen.

Shit.

His neighbors probably hated him.

“Where are you,” he growled at the tablet, just as Robin’s location finished loading.

Warehouse in Crime Alley.

Not even five blocks from Jason’s safe house.

Good.

- - -

The Joker had almost no henchmen guarding his warehouse.

Usually Joker’s operations were more thought through. Right?

This time it was just pathetic.

How in the ever-loving-fuck had he got his hands on Robin, anyway?

It took Jason not even ten minutes to reach the warehouse, break in, and incapacitate all ten of his thugs. It took only another fifteen seconds to climb up into the rafters, into the main area where Joker was ‘filming’ with Robin.

“Now, Robin,” Joker said, his his annoying high pitched drawl, “You are down in the negatives. You need to get this next answer correct or—”

Jason didn’t let him finish the thought.

Because he shot the Joker in the ass.

“Shut the fuck up,” Red Hood snarled, as he dropped down from the rafters, right on top of Joker, “No one cares as much as you think.”

“Hood,” Joker said, grinning wide, despite all the blood leaking out of him.

Or, well. Not much. Jason should shoot him again.

Robin would get all high and mighty, if Jason actually killed Joker.

Fucking hell.

“How nice of you to drop by!” Joker said, laughing, “We could use a second contestant.”

Yeah. Sure.

Jason brought his elbow down into Joker’s face. Hard. Breaking his nose and knocking him flat out.

“How disappointing,” Jason said, as he stood up and turned toward Robin, “That wasn’t nearly as satisfying as shooting him in the face would have been.”

Robin stayed laying there, where he was, curled up in his cage, clutching his stomach tight.

Whistling, Jason crossed the room and tried to get Tim’s attention. “Yo. Half-pint, you all right there?”

Tim didn’t react, other than to curl up tighter when Jason approached the cage and put a hand on one of the bars.

“Shit,” he mumbled, “Okay, kid. I’ll get you out.”

Ridiculously, it took longer to figure out a way to get Tim out of the cage.

He tried to pry the fucking lock open with a crowbar he found laying around…

Joker and his fucking crowbars.

But the lock wouldn’t budge, and the stupid replacement Robin kept flinching every time Jason got too near. Which, should have probably made Jason feel bad.

If he were, like, a good person.

Instead it just pissed him off enough that he grabbed the crowbar and started bashing it against the lock, until the damn thing fell off.

“Okay,” Jason said as he opened the cage door, “Tell me what the damage is, kid.”

Robin didn’t respond, so Jason reached in and placed one gloved hand on his shoulder. All he was going to do was shake it, a little. Just to make sure the kid was alive. And like, just out of it.

But apparently Robin was super out of it, because instead of growl at him or snap some dumbass quip, he jumped up and punched Jason right in the stomach.

“Fuck,” he huffed. The little sucker packed a mean one, but he was too damn out of it for it to do more than make Jason wince. “The fuck, kid? Knock it off.”

Tim jumped up, however, on top of the cage, then wobbled there as he tried to right his balance. The second Jason tried to reach out to him, to catch him before he toppled over, or some shit, Tim pulled out a couple of his stupid R shaped throwing stars and started throwing them.

“Shit,” Jason growled, as he dodged, “Kid, knock it off.”

“What do you want?” Robin asked, and with that, apparently reached the end of his spike of adrenaline.

Because the next thing Jason knew, Robin was falling off the cage bars he’d been perched on, and Jason had barely enough time to dive the few feet between them and catch the stupid runt before he landed on the concrete ground, head first.

“Get off me,” Robin demanded, thrashing about in Jason’s hold.

All it made Jason do was squeeze his arms around Tim tighter.

“Stop,” Tim said, his voice getting a little more desperate, “Get off.”

“Ow,” Jason complained, when Tim kicked him in the knee, “Would you knock it off. Am I hurting you?”

Tim stilled, for a second, and seemed to evaluate the situation. Jason was still holding onto him, but he loosed his arms a little.

“No?” Tim asked, like he wasn’t sure if that were the correct answer, or something.

Stupid brat. And they accused Jason of shooting first, asking questions later.

“Then why the fuck are you fighting me?” Jason demanded.

“You’re…” Tim said, then paused as he put a hand up to his head. Shit. Jason needed to get him back to a safe house and checked out.

Letting go of Tim completely, Jason set him down and maneuvered, so he was kneeling in front of the stupid runt. He put a hand on Tim’s head and forced his head back, a little, so Jason could get a good look at it. He could see one of Tim’s eyes, due to his mask having so much damage on it, and it looked like Tim was at least making eye contact.

Or, at least. As much eye contact as he could when Jason was wearing a helmet.

“You’re the Red Hood?” Tim finally answered.

Jason merely huffed. “Yeah. And you’re the boy hostage. Where are you hurt?”

“What?” Tim demanded, “Why do you care?” and Jason rolled his eyes.

“Like I’m gonna let Joker kill you. That’s my job.”

Okay.

Wrong thing to say.

Because Tim’s eye grew wide, and he shuffled backward, out of Jason’s reach, kicking his feet.

Jason tried to grab his feet, to make him stop, but Tim kept kicking, and got Jason right in the ribs.

“Ouch, stop it. I was kidding.” Tim got him on the chin, and Jason snapped, “Just stop. I’m trying to help you.”

“Why,” Tim demanded, as Jason finally caught one of his legs and held it up high enough that Tim lost his balance.

It was kind of amusing, how Tim landed on his back, and just groaned.

“Why’s there gotta be a reason?” he asked, “Maybe I don’t want to see another Robin die!”

“You beat me near to death like two minutes ago,” Tim shouted, pulling at his foot, and not succeeding in freeing himself.

Because Jason was standing, and Tim was short. It would be no trouble at all for Jason to just lift Tim right up off the ground entirely by his leg.

“It’s been four months, stop being dramatic.”

“You expect me to believe you’ve changed enough since then that it matters?” Tim demanded, just as he pulled another throwing star out and threw it at Jason.

Too bad for Tim, Jason saw it coming a mile away. And just caught it.

“Yep!” he cheered, “You done now? You’re, like, super out if it and your fight sucks. If you couldn’t tell.”

Robin mumbled something Jason didn’t catch, so Jason dropped his foot, and tried not to grin too wide when Tim groaned when his body hit the ground.

He didn’t fall too far.

And Jason was sure his head and upper back had been on the ground, already, before he let go.

“Can you walk on your own?” he asked.

Once Tim stopped being all dramatic about everything, he grumbled out a, “No,” so Jason knelt down next to him and offered a hand, to help Tim sit up.

Tim glared at him with so much derision, it risked making Jason laugh.

Instead, all he said was, “Then stop fucking fighting me and let me help.”

“Fine,” Tim snapped, lifting an arm up so Jason could wrap it around Jason’s shoulders, “But if you try anything, I’m calling for Superman.”

“Whatever,” Jason said, as he hefted Tim to his feet, and started making toward the warehouse exit, “Just shut up and let me get you out of here.”

Tim was in pretty rough shape.

Jason already knew that, of course, but it became even more obvious as they made their way back to Jason’s safe house.

Mostly because Jason did all the fucking work.

Tim’s left leg was obviously fucked up. Jason was a little glad he hadn’t held that leg up in the air, because then he’d feel guilty.

And that wasn’t it. He kept clutching at his stomach, and Jason was willing to bet there was at least some pretty bad burns there from all the zapping.

Dragging Tim’s ass up the side of Jason’s building was easy, of course. But annoying. Because Jason had to hold onto Tim tight, because the stupid brat’s grip kept loosening whenever Jason jostled him too much.

“Shit kid,” Jason mumbled, as he pushed Tim through the window to his safe house, “I can’t believe Bruce leaves his fucking kid all alone to protect Gotham when he’s out of town.”

Because, seriously.

This was ridiculous.

Tim was fucked up. And it was all Bruce’s fault.

“M’not his kid,” Tim mumbled, as he stumbled a few feet inside Jason’s safe house, over to the couch. He collapsed down with an oof.

Jason rolled his eyes and closed the window behind him, after he jumped inside. “You are too a kid,” he said, unsnapping his helmet and tossing it down on the ground, “You’re like, thirteen.”

Tim followed Jason with his eyes, even as he sank into the couch a little more, and said, “I’m fifteen. And I said I’m not his kid.”

“Fifteen!” Jason shouted, tossing his gloves on the ground. His safe house was pretty small, so his kitchen was his living room. And he, thankfully, had a pretty good first aid kit sitting in the cabinet under his sink. “That’s how old I was. And obviously I meant his son, you idiot.”

“I’m not his son either,” Tim said.

Jason paused, as he was pulling his kit out, and looked up over the counter at the little brat.

“He didn’t adopt you?”

Hadn’t Talia said….?

How the fuck was he even Robin?

“No,” Tim exclaimed, “I have a dad.”

Is that why Bruce was more lenient on Tim? Because he wasn’t his son?

Bruce never let Jason out of his fucking sight as Robin.

He’d thought that was because he didn’t trust Jason, and clearly he trusted Tim.

But was it maybe because he’d adopted….

Nope. Not thinking about this.

“And he lets you run around with the bats?” Jason asked, finally crossing back over to Tim and slamming the first aid kit down on the coffee table.

Tim jumped, but then scowled at Jason and said, “It’s not like he can stop me.”

“Seriously, kid?”

“Look. It’s none of your business. Are you gonna let me go?”

In that state? Not bloody likely.

But instead of say that, and get Robin all fighty again, Jason said, “I’m not keeping you prisoner, but let me look at your injuries.”

Tim rolled his eyes, but sank back down into the couch and mumbled, “I’m fine.”

“Uh huh,” Jason said, pointing toward the stomach Tim was still clutching, “lemme see.”

It took a second of Tim glaring, but he finally relented and lifted his shirt, and Jason could only wince in sympathy.

“Damn, Timbo,” he said, looking at the criss crossing scorch marks littering his abdomen, “Those look fun. I’ve got some burn cream that should help.”

Jason worked on Tim’s injuries in silence for a good ten minutes. He had so many burns, Jason kind of wanted to go back and shoot Joker in the ass again, just for inflicting them.

And maybe go find Bruce and shoot him in the ass, for leaving Tim all alone for this to happen in the first place.

“That one needs stitches,” Jason said, after he’d pulled Tim’s sleeves up, inspecting his arms for any more burns to treat. Instead, he found a jagged knife wound, that was still oozing a little. “Did you think you could hide it from me?”

Tim pulled his arm closer to himself, and mumbled, “S’not that bad.”

Jason rolled his eyes, and pulled out his suture kit. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Amazingly, Tim didn’t fight him at all, when he took his arm back and started cleaning the wound enough so he could apply the local anesthetic and start stitching it up.

Instead, all Tim did was stare at him, a little blankly.

It was actually unnerving.

“What?” he snapped.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I told you,” Jason scoffed, readjusting his hold on Tim’s arm so he could get the last few stitches in straight, “I’m not letting Joker kill another Robin.”

And, sure. Stitching the kid up and treating all his burns was going a little above and beyond.

But Jason would feel a little bad if he, like, bled to death or whatever.

“Yeah,” Tim said, blinking hard as he ran his free hand through his hair, “But like, you coulda just took him out and left. Why’re you— ow.”

“Whoops,” Jason said, bearing his teeth a little as he grinned at the accidental needle prick he gave Tim outside the numbed area, “Are you seriously complaining? Don’t you know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

Tim was rich, wasn’t he? Weren’t they taught that shit, too?

Jason was pretty sure Bruce never let him be ungrateful about gifts. Not that Jason would, of course. But even Bruce Wayne taught his kids to be thankful for what they had…

Then again. Tim apparently wasn’t Bruce’s kid…

“When that gift horse tries to kill us every other week, no,” Tim said.

“Shut up,” Jason scoffed, “I haven’t messed with you idiots in months.”

Which was, absolutely, completely, 89% true.

He hadn’t attempted anything fatal on them in months. Fucked with their cases for the laughs? Maybe.

Mostly just Bruce’s. When it didn’t get anyone hurt, of course.

Just because it was fun to fuck with Bruce.

Because fuck Bruce.

“Yeah, but— ow.”

Jason might have stabbed him again.

“All done,” he said, before Tim could get out whatever it was he was going to protest, “Congratulations, you’ll survive. You can sleep here. I’m burning the safe house tomorrow, though.”

He’d shot the TV. So it was pretty useless now, anyway.

“Next time you get captured by the Joker, I’m shooting you in the ass, got it?”

“Yeah,” Tim said, rolling his eyes as he settled back on the couch a little more comfortably, “Whatever.”

Jason watched as Tim pulled his legs up and clearly just… collapsed there. To sleep. And rolled his eyes even harder.

Like that would be comfortable.

On his way to the window, after he’d put his helmet back on, Jason grabbed the blanket and pillow from under the coffee table and threw it right at Tim’s head.

Tim scowled, but did readjust himself so he looked at least slightly more comfortable.

Satisfied, Jason nodded and said, “Kay. Tell Bats I said fuck him. Later, squirt.”

“Thanks, Jason,” Tim mumbled, just as Jason was slipping out of the window.

Heh. The runt wasn’t so bad, after all.

Maybe.

But Jason was not going to make a habit of this. No way.

If he did, he’d have to go shoot Batman in the ass, for letting his stupid little Robin get hurt.

That would be fun, actually.

[iloveitwhen]

jasonette but like siblings but like angst- like that whole trope where they are blood related and got separated, or they didnt get separated idk thats cool too i just want some sibling jasonette😅

Wow. ok. uhmmmm. this is a lot i think?? I got a little jk a lot carried away and this past week was super busy so i’ll finish the second part later??

Again... a lot...

Jason is walking home after another night at the bar when he sees a small woman, teenager? Slip into a dark alleyway and two men follow in after her a few moments later. 

Jason curses and bolts across the street, what was this girl thinking? How stupid do you have to be to go into a dark alley where no one will hear you or care to help?

He jumps into the alley to find one man already slumped on himself on the floor and the other getting kicked in the teeth by army boots then falling limply. 

Jason curses again, impressed this time. He scans over the men noting that they probably had pretty good concussions judging from the dent in the garbage can the first man was laying next to and the way the second guy’s head smacked onto the concrete when he fell. He lands his eyes back on the woman, no, definitely a teenager, with a smile on his face that instantly falters. The girl is in a fighting stance and waiting for him to attack so he quickly raises his hands to placate her.

“I’m not here to fight you, I saw you get followed and I was coming to help.” 

“Nobody helps in Gotham,” she states, a dangerous edge to her voice that held a carefully hidden accent. 

“Not from around here, are you?” 

The girl narrows her eyes, “I was born and raised here, take a step further and you won’t be waking up tomorrow.” 

Jason pockets his hands and smirks. He likes her, she’s a fighter, she reminds him of himself when he was younger. 

“Ok. Just make sure you make it home safe. A girl’s going to get some unwanted attention at a time and place like this.” He turns around and crosses the street but as soon as he’s out of her sight he turns back and hides in the shadows to track her and make sure no one else tries to catch her alone. Just because she could handle herself the first time doesn’t mean she’s necessarily safe from the next attempt. 

The girl exits the alley and starts toward the direction of Jason’s apartment calmly as if she didn’t just get attacked. At least that means less walking for him. After a few minutes she slips into another dark alley, of course she does, and Jason crosses the street again going into his own empty alley before pulling his helmet on and scaling the building. As he peers over the side of the building his helmet scans the area giving him feedback he would normally miss due to the horrible lighting and telling him that the alley was empty. He figured she had somehow gotten into one of the buildings and decided to go home by rooftops since he was already up there. 

However, as he landed on the opposite rooftop his feet slipped from underneath him. Jason managed to roll out of it but before he could get his footing his hip was kicked into and he stumbled, tripped over a seemingly perfectly placed rock and smashed his head on the side of the stair house. Then, just as quickly as this all transpired, there was a body behind him, they hooked their fingers under his helmet and lifted it to expose his neck and press a knife with jagged points onto his neck. How did he know the knife had jagged points? Good question, it was, as previously mentioned, against his neck and piercing into his skin, drawing blood. 

“Why are you following me?” a girl’s voice filters through his mask and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His mask let him know through the constant visuals that the voice belonged to a female in their late teens, not that he didn’t already know that. 

“Making sure you got home safe,” he says carefully, weighing his options and trying to decide if he should let her feel like she got him or escape with a slight nick on his neck. 

Eh. Jason preferred to not have a bleeding neck no matter how small the cut. 

“Lies,” she hisses, digging the knife a bit deeper as a warning, maybe getting out sooner was a better idea. “What do you want?” 

“Knife off my throat first,” he manages without pushing his neck further onto the blade. 

A second later the girl releases him and jumps back with enough space between them to react if he ended up deciding to attack her. 

Jason gives her a quick glance as he stands up, a hand to his throat to check for blood. 

“I wasn’t lying-”

“You’re not fooling anyone you Red Hood wannabe,” she snaps. Jason just laughs in surprise, no one has ever accused him of being a Red Hood wannabe. He's the one who made the mantle into something to respect, something to fear. He stops laughing and levels a glare at the girl, his helmet telling him unhelpfully there was no match of facial recognition in any database. 

“I am Red Hood-” he started to growl out but she cut him off again. The audacity. 

“Red Hood wouldn’t have been caught by the person he was trailing, Red Hood wouldn’t have been caught off guard, Red Hood doesn’t have a stupid streak of white hair on his head. He may have been a theatre nerd but he wouldn’t do that.” 

Wait what. 

“What are you talking about?” But it was more of a demand than a question. 

“You’re not…” she trailed off waving her hand in the air trying to find a word, “slick. Same jacket, same shoes, same build, yeah. You’re not fooling anyone.” 

“Ok. Whatever, I’m going home.” He turns and starts jogging across the rooftop towards home. So much for helping out. 

“Where is he?” she calls out after him.

“Right here, princess,” he spat before jumping to the other rooftop. 

But as soon as his feet leave the building a big dark blue warbly hole appears and swallows him before he can react. Unfortunately for him the other side of that weird black hole was a face full of concrete. 

“Prove you’re him.” 

Oh this girl was something else. Jason shakes his disorientation away, he didn’t know how she did that, nor did he care but he was pissed. He swings his foot around and connects with her ankle, she falls as expected but easily bounces right back up and hops out of his range. 

“Do that again and I’ll have to break my no killing kids rule,” he growls out, staring her down for a moment. Her face was finally lit by the dim yellow street lamps and he could see the entirety of her face and all the raw emotions she was trying to hide. For a split second familiarity passed through him, like when you see someone at the library then at the store a few weeks later or you see an old school friend ten years later and can’t quite place them. Jason dismisses the feeling and turns to go. 

“Wait.” She says it so vulnerably that Jason gives her a chance, when he turns she pulls up her sleeve and shows off her forearm. 

In the center of her arm is a faded black tattoo that was a writing symbol, but because of its name and one of its uses it was used to brand child soldiers in Gotham from a particular gang that Red Hood obliterated as soon as his first order of business in Gotham. 

‡

It was the double dagger, or better known in Gotham as the death dagger. The children were expendable although highly trained and dangerous, they could give Damian a run for his money in the child assassin department. The tattoo was a reminder to the children and to the people they came across that they were soulless, emotionless, their lives and actions were not their own and they would give their lives willingly for the mission

Meaning who they were before was dead. No family, no connections, no one would notice if they went missing and no one would be able to identify their bodies if and when the time came. Sometimes poor families would sell one of their children and promise to forget them and to never contact them. 

Jason was led to assume that this was another child soldier looking to thank him, or kill him. It was 50/50 these days, some of those kids just never recovered. 

“So what is it that you want? You want my autograph across your head?” Jason asks dryly. 

The girl just huffs and pulls her sleeve back down. 

“I want to know if my brother is underneath that mask.”

I want to know if my brother is underneath that mask.

The words struck Jason deep in his chest but it only fueled his anger. He didn’t know why that hit so deep but he was not in the mood for this nor would he be at any time. 

“Just because I ended that gang doesn’t mean we’re family. Go find your other assassin siblings to play house with.” 

“Annette,” she calls after as he turns his back again. A strike of familiarity pulses through him and when he hesitates she continues, “that was my name before I was initiated. I was one of the first. Daddy’s little girl,” she was still talking louder than necessary since he hadn’t turned back around. “I’m the only one left from The 13.” 

Right. The 13. That’s what everyone called the first batch even as they were killed off, they were the most ruthless being the oldest and were also the most aggressive in proving their worth. It was common to find a number from 1-13 placed strategically behind at the crime scene, whoever had the most successful missions would be highly rewarded, or so he was told. 

“Do you remember?” 

“I remember destroying that gang and their stupid leader and having to kill some of your little friends and I also remember The 13 died within the first year and a half and were easily replaced by their younger friends.” 

“Do you remember me?”

“Look, kid,” he finally turns to look at her, “I don’t care, ok? Yay whoopdeedoo I saved you, get in line. It’s what I do, kill bad people and let the rest walk away. You’re not special.” 

“Annette Marie Todd,” she says hurriedly, like it’s a last resort. “Jason Peter Todd,” she continues, “just you. Me. And a blitzed out Mom.” 

Jason did not like this, he knew the Dagger Children were ruthless and expert manipulators but this was pushing it. He spun around to face her, ripping off his helmet, she already knew what he looked like and it was in the way of his death glare. 

“You don’t know who you are messing with. If you really were a Dagger you’d know that I am not one to be fucked with.” He slides his helmet back on and without a backward glance he runs off to the next roof and continues home. Thankfully not another portal thing opens up in front of him. 

———————————

Jason didn’t have a sister. He did not have a sister. He would remember having a sister. He would remember having a Dagger for a sister. But Annette was such a familiar name. And she had said her name was Annette Marie Todd. Todd. 

No that’s stupid. Impossible. She was just messing with him, for all he knew she could have been subtly showing her face in random places for him to react to the familiarity of her face and she could have said the name sometime in the last few months for him to vaguely recognize the sound of her name but not place it. 

But the Lazarus pit did alter his memories from childhood, it was like looking through a fog of red anger, or maybe it was always like that even before the pit, and it also completely wiped out other parts of his memory. But a sister? No. No way. 

Hours of this, circling around the possibilities and shifting around on his bed trying to get comfortable until he finally drifted off in a very restless sleep. 

Jason found himself in a familiar apartment, the one he lived in before his “mother” died. He looked around and it was more of the feeling of familiarity that convinced him where he was than anything else. He steps aside for a younger version of himself to run by him and turns to the window that led out to the fire escape and watches him climb out of it and close the window. Jason turns back around to see what Young Jason was hiding from. A man hands a thick envelope to his mother, Catherine Todd who had wrapped herself in a thin silk robe, her bony frame visible as well as her happy focus on the money inside that envelope. Jason couldn’t make out the man’s face but he turned around and grabbed the small hand of a little girl in pigtails. She turned her head and faced the window sending a smile but he couldn’t quite make out her face so he instead turned to himself sitting outside.

As he turned his surroundings changed but in his dreamstate he paid no mind to it. This time he was standing in an aisle of a store as a child. He looked around and found his mother dressed embarrassingly in a thin tank top and ragged jeans and flip flops. He feels a squeeze of his hand and looks down, his little sister is looking up at him and pointing to a rack of stuffed animals of Clifford the Big Red Dog that were suddenly there. He sends her a smile and looks up, intent on catching up with his mother and asking her to buy one but as he chases her his intent slips from his mind and instead he wants to taste the cupcakes he just saw. He opens a case and takes a bite but yelling makes him turn around and there is Batman towering over him. Instead of a tasty cupcake he is holding something thick and metal, a crowbar. He throws it at the man and turns to run away and jumps out of the parking garage and jumps into the air flying up. But he’s too slow, he tries kicking and swimming in the air to propel himself further away from Batman but a hand wraps around his foot. 

Jason jerks awake, breathing heavy and feeling uncomfortably hot. This was much more mild than his usual nightmares, if it could even be called a nightmare, but it was bad in a different way. It wasn’t unusual for Jason to be getting chased in his dreams by one thing or another and it always ended before whatever or whoever was chasing him got him but it was getting a little old honestly. 

His head was pounding so he slipped out of bed and poured himself a glass of water from the kitchen. As he takes a sip he recalls his dream and how he had looked down at his sister. But that couldn’t be right. 

A searing pain in his head forces him to tighten his grip on his cup before it goes away again. Stupid head. Stupid dream. Stupid girl trying to get in his head. 

As he lays back down a memory of clear grey eyes flashes across his mind’s eye. 

---

Throughout the next few days Jason tries to ignore the headaches and his dreams of the young black haired girl with grey eyes and of getting chased which was more frequent and more urgent than he remembered them being. It was just all a big waste of time. At least the Dagger girl wasn’t trying to find him anymore, he didn’t know how he would react if she showed up again. 

After another dream of getting chased, this time he was just so tired of it he got a few good punches in on the Bane/Joker demon that was chasing him when his phone buzzes, startling him awake. He ignores it in favor of a cup of coffee and checks the time on the oven that he never uses, it’s almost two o’clock. 

His phone buzzes again several more times in quick succession. He finally heads over and clicks his phone on to see five messages from Stephanie. 

Replacement’s replacement🤰

so u have a little sister and u never told me???

anyways shes at the big house and getting interrogated by bruce and i think hes ready to adopt her

hello

so rude

i mean it looks to me shes tellin the truth but like seems sus for obvious reasons and ur the only one that'll actually know so… hurry up??

Jason curses and rushes to grab his things before running outside and zooming to the Wayne Manor on his motorcycle. 

welp i’ll add with another part soon that i havent finished yet but anywho let me know if jason is too ooc or something😁😁

[onlyhereforangst]

WWR

Alright y’all a likely final WWR coming at you, you know 3 months late the day of the dreaded s19 premiere. This definitely gets ranty and emotional, if you’re a Gibbs stan scroll the fuck away & don’t send me hate anon. This is bittersweet and it hurts and I’ve been living in denial for months but I needed this little bit of closure before the writer’s absolutely fuck it up in less than 6 hours. I hope you enjoy my emotional ramblings & I’ve absolutely loved writing these for the past two years, i’ll miss it & your reactions to it dearly ❤️

Badass Ellie is allllllways a treat, and protective nick contrasted to her making albeit slightly reckless decisions is top tier. And then followed up by him being impressed as hell??? He’s like damn my girl just did that and I am not turned on, no way, we are working I am not turned on, nope. Nick sitting at Ellie’s desk in the beginning PLS. Feet kicked up feeling mighty comfortable for someone who hates sitting at a desk 👀 only ok with it when it’s Ellie’s, huh Nick? Also I love that he’s sticking with the nonchalant approach like he did when he found her looking up Eastern Europe locations. He knows if he pushes too hard it won’t go well, but he is still concerned for her well-being. Those pieces slowly clicking into place that something isn’t just off- it’s worrisome off. Because while yes he’s still nonchalant he’s a touch more serious this time, ignoring her attempt at a brush off and claiming “he wants answers.” It’s a subtle step up from 18x14, but it’s there. His spidey senses are tingling and he’s getting less and less able to hide his concern for her 🥺 even if he tries to play it off as flirty banter because yes he’s still gd impressed with her moves and even tells Vance as such essentially. 

Flash forward to at the stash house and they find the files plus the mini debrief back in the bullpen…I truly am inclined to believe Ellie doesn’t know here. I mean sure she realizes that the timing fits to a certain extent—she was at NSA when this happened, but I don’t think she knows this is the beginning of her end. She’s like “oh they’re selling secrets too” and “my contacts are all gone” like…I just, she seems too casual and not at all on edge. Idk so far I’m just not getting that vibe. She even brushed off McGee with the whole that was ten years ago almost like she didn’t remember it? But then at the same time she did bring up the whole legal vs ethical- she hedged, but she did mention it. She was not super gung-ho about OMG THIS WAS SO UNETHICAL WTF HOW COULD THEY DO THIS so still……..idk lets continue haha

Ok her knowledge of guns is slightly concerning but also Nick finds it concerning AND hot, boy can’t help himself lets be honest. That “damn” that slips out please, so many sirens going off in that head but also you’re just like well fuck talk dirty to me some more babe. Aaaaand here we go, here’s why I know Ellie didn’t know that odette was going to plant that shit right now. “Whoever took them from the NSA’s code-level servers risked a lot more than their career” with a little like duh face from Ellie SCREAMS that she did not, would not, EVER do that. The leak was fabricated by Odette and the fact that it would be planted during this case was all Odette unbeknownst to Ellie. Or why the fuck would Ellie so casually and somewhat judgmentally be like “who TF would leak something like that, man they stupid, committing treason and whatnot.” And Ellie is SHOOK when Vance tells her it was her. Like shook as in, blinks several times, shifts her weight back, glances at McGee with a flash of surprise in her eyes. That body language screeeeeams being caught off guard. If she had leaked those documents and if she had known this was a plant, she wouldn’t be caught off guard. And no matter how well you can try and play the part, that body language is legit. She’s shocked someone would even think about that and oh man, Nick. Nick’s face hurts me (and I know this is just the beginning). Because a man who has always seen himself as the bad egg, the criminal so to speak, the one who would do something shady before any of the others. He is shook and angry that Vance could even consider accusing Ellie of this. And then there’s the genuine concern etched on his face (and I’d know, the screen is currently paused on his face staring at Ellie with a worried furrowed brow and pain clenched in his jaw) because he knows logical Ellie wouldn’t do this but also he knows he’s been seeing little puzzle pieces fall into place of suspicious behavior and this is just one more thing that doesn’t sit right with him- doesn’t fit the woman he’s come to know and love. And while I know he truly believes she didn’t leak the files, I would bet right here he’s concerned about what the fuck she’s gotten herself wrapped up in. 

And she continues to be adamantly against this, like Eleanor Raye Bishop would NOT ever leak intel, not as a baby NSA analyst who believed she was doing the right thing always in her role. Never once bringing up questionable ethics, she thought it was the greater good, that little patriot. She’s so adamantly against it and then Vance asks if she was framed, and I think that’s the point where Ellie realizes this is Odette. The word framed all of a sudden clicks it all into place and she picks up it might be “go time” for her. Her glances over at Vance have changed, they’re more cautious, calculating. She hears they’ve been leaked over ten years ago and she knows that she didn’t do it 10 years ago so this very well may be the notice of eviction from Odette. The “we’re coming for you, Agent Bishop” and her little look, oooooh Ellie is fired up. Her switch flipped and she’s now gotta hunker down and defend herself until she can confirm with Odette. Vance doesn’t even let her get a word in to “fight” for her innocence. But the fact that she’s getting sent home pisses her off, she wants to be close to the investigation, know what’s happening, and I’m sure a part of her still resists being dubbed that traitor of the state. Who knows, Odette may have never told her how she would become a disgraced NCIS agent, and this may have pissed Ellie off because her integrity is something she prides herself on. Her line, “I’m not Gibbs […] I’m innocent line” is like a tiny bright spot to chuckle in during this dismal finale. Gibbs hate train right hereeeee

Love that Kasie is immediately on the Ellie defense side, not looking forward to her reaction to Ellie leaving IF they even decide to show us. 

Gibbs telling Ellie “sometimes there’s nothing left to be said” when he fucking up and left the team without so much as a goodbye or sorry for committing police brutality like fuck outta here Gibbs. Ellie is CLEARLY vulnerable right now, she’s been accused of leaking classified documents aka committing treason, she’s suspended, she’s on the brink of going on some dumbass undercover op and is begging, pleading, for any sign from you- her boss and father figure- not to do it. That he shows remorse for leaving the team without a word, that he regrets his decision to just disappear on them, that he wishes he hadn’t or he had done it differently. ANY kind of sign to tell her not to go through with what she’s about to go through. Literally any sign, and instead Gibbs gets defensive and bites back that she’s picking the wrong time in her life (LIKE HELLO YOU JUST SAID IT RIGHT THERE IDIOT, SHE’S GOING THROUGH SHIT MAYBE YOU SHOULD FIGURE OUT WHAT IT IS BUT NO YOU’RE WRAPPED UP IN GIBBS LA-LA-LAND AND HAVE SAID FUCK YOU TO YOUR SUPPOSED KIDS), so now Ellie is even more pissed and gets defensive back telling him he doesn’t even know what’s going on in her life and if that’s not a desperate cry for help I don’t know what is. like she is begging you Gibbs to pick up on it and figure it out, begging you to do your job that’s you’re supposedly so good at and save her from going through with this stupid mission. And then Ellie realizes that he stopped caring about them. He’d gotten so wrapped up in what he was doing, he stopped caring about their lives, the problems they were facing, anything. Him *not* realizing something was happening??? This is Gibbs, this is the man that always knows what’s happening before you even know what’s happening. So the words “I’m starting to realize that” hit like a fucking dump truck. He’s too preoccupied with his own boat-making nonsense that he can’t be bothered to have even an inkling of an idea of what’s going on in their lives. And he doesn’t seem to care that he’s dropped them from his life. And that’s when it hits Ellie, he’s never coming back. He’s cut the team out of his life and he doesn’t care. He has no regrets, he can’t even be bothered to have a single regret. And I think that, right there, is when Ellie decides she’s all in. I think there was always a small part of her that was hesitant to go along with odette. Hesitant to just upend her career and her relationships (aka Nick, but we’ll get to this), all of it. But hearing that the man she looked up to even though he’d made some mistakes, the man she viewed as a father, the one person who’d taken a chance on the nerdy analyst long ago, the one constant through all the turmoil she’d had, just left? Just left without a goodbye, without remorse, without even a parting thought for her? That was it for her. Whatever brainwashing Odette had fed her that she’d pushed back against from fully taking over finally broke free. And with it, Ellie grieves, she’s tearing up from knowing what she’s about to lose. Lose the man she viewed as a father, the coworkers that were like a family, the partner she’d found herself loving like she’d never loved before. 

Ugh poor hurt Nick, he’s willing to do all the grunt work that he abhors in order to free up McGee so he can save Ellie. Nick knows he doesn’t have the skills and I think that’s killing him even more so. He can’t just do it himself, he has to rely on someone else to clear her name (to which he bumped back to last name in a last ditch attempt to maintain distance and keep some semblance of emotions in check, which is failing miserably), and that is killing the doer we know and love. LOL “so you’re both wrong” this poor man I love him, I can’t wait for the tears that will come from me later 🥲 nick immediately taking Jessica’s help, I love it. He’s like I don’t give AF who will help us but I am clearing this woman’s name if it’s the last thing I do. And then she walks in and he’s frozen. All these emotions running through him and then she’s there?? And she ignores him??? Ignores all of them?? Rushes past and storms up to the director on a suicide mission??? Yeah this is why I said that conversation with Gibbs was her last nail in the coffin. She hadn’t decided to go through with it (hence why she hedged earlier with Vance) and then he went and was a piece of shit so she said the hell with it and went all in. She can’t even bring herself to speak at Nick, barely looks at him, because she knows, she knows if she speaks to him, if he gets a chance to try and talk her down in the heightened emotional state she’s in after talking to Gibbs, she won’t be able to hold it in. She won’t be able to deal with seeing emotionally charged and hurt Nick. So she ignores him and McGee and does what she thinks she has to do. How hard did it have to be for Ellie to tell Vance not to defend her, and that their intel was correct? 🥺🥺 it goes against everything she’s ever stood for and she just went and did it. She hates liars and yet she lied. She loves her country and yet she claimed she committed treason. Her body language once again screams uncomfortable but trying to play it off. She’d nodding and repeating it over and over because she needs to convince herself of the words. They leave a bitter taste in her mouth and she can’t stop it. All she can do is clench her jaw a little tighter and get it over with and convince herself. 

Nick is in disbelief, obviously. McGee looks like he’s five seconds from breaking down because his little sister is supposedly a traitor??? Like he can’t believe it. He’s hurt she would do something like this even though he still knows in his gut that it can’t possibly be true. And oh FUCK the part where Nick’s voice cracks asking if Vance fired Ellie. Fuuuuuuuck me. This man’s heart is breaking for what’s happening to Ellie and being completely in the dark about it. Sure they weren’t really clear on what “they” were after The Talk but still. He thought she was open with him. Ever since the jail cell, things had shifted and he thought she’d been honest with him. He’d picked up on those little things, but maybe it was just training or something, NOT committing alleged treason and quitting the one career she loved. Not leaving him in the dark and vanishing without so much as a word. Not that. Because she KNOWS his past, she knows how much shit he’s been through with people in his life leaving without so much as a goodbye. And his voice continues to crack asking about what’s going on because he’s literally in shock. McGee is desperately trying to keep it together, keep some sort of figurehead for the team. Nick is in shambles ok, just like I’m in shambles. He’s adamant she didn’t do it because he KNOWS her. He knows she would never in a million years leak classified intel and now he’s just confused like a lost and kicked puppy. She didn’t DO IT, and she’s not answering her PHONE. He just wants to talk to her, he just wants to know she’s ok, wants to comfort her, wants to convince her to stop and it’ll be alright and he’ll take care of her and he’ll save her because that’s all he wants to do and always has, right? Save her. Save her from everything in this world that could hurt her. Protect her from life’s dangers. Protect her because he can’t bear the thought of losing her. And that all is crumbling down around him. All of it, crashing down like an avalanche, ready to bury him alive in grief and guilt and despair and anger. How am I supposed to TALK to her, he just wants to fucking be with her. He just wants to be there. With her. For the rest of their lives.

Ellie looking at the hat, please. That’s a lifetime of regret packed into one facial expression right there. She’s looking at that hat, the one she cherishes from the moment Gibbs hands it to her, and knows it’ll be the last time she ever sees it again. It’s not something she can take with her, and it’s full of fond memories—most happy, some sad, a few bittersweet—but memories that have made her life whole the past 8 years. And there’s officially no going back, she’s admitted to treason, there’s no way out of that. She’s having to say goodbye to all of her career without saying goodbye to any of them, all of that is wrapped up in that hat. A hat that’s so simple but signifies so much to her. She definitely was not expecting McGee to come out and so her rebuttals to him are exasperated and grasping at straws initially. She tries sarcasm and then she tries to brush it off “it doesn’t matter, it’s done […] I get that, I don’t want to talk about it” when McGee voices that he’s hurt over this and her reputation matters to him. Because he’s like another brother to you dammit Ellie. Yeah he’s grown since he said Ziva was like a sister to him and just stomped on your heart, he didn’t say it then but you’re like a sister to him too Ellie. I love that he fights her on it, and Ellie is like shit I have to come up with something. I don’t think she expected McGee of all people to fight her on this and I’m so glad he did. A little bit of growth because he is not going to see another person he views as family leave him again. And Ellie’s half assed excuses please, all of it is just such BULLSHIT because when they first debriefed she was just like “ethical? Hmmm” nothing more, nothing about being a vigilante and being up in arms over this like she claims she was. Bullshit Ellie, bullshit. And the PARALLELS TO FUCKING GIBBS. THIS IS WHAT YOU DID GIBBS, THIS IS YOU. LOOK WHERE YOU FUCKING PUSHED ELEANOR BISHOP TO STOOP TO. McGee begging her to regret it and Ellie pulls a Gibbs and is like NOPE. WONDER WHERE THE FUCK SHE LEARNED THAT FROM HUH. Gibbs you are singlehandedly responsible for this shit and how Ellie broke Nick’s heart and whatever happens to her on this stupid mission. I’m glad your dumb boat blew up, you deserve it. 

“I don’t want protection” because I can’t have you all following me. 

“It kills me that I lied to the people I was closest to” not about what you think I’m lying about but what I’ve been hiding. It kills me that I can’t tell you the real reason for this. It kills me.

“It wasn’t years ago for us” McGee rip my heart out please it will hurt less. And Ellie just playing into all of it. Knowing that she needs him and everyone else to hate her and not trust her. Her entire livelihood and backstory rely on them hating her and not following her, believing she’s the enemy and she’s hid these kinds of secrets for so long. Believing she’s a criminal and it was all a farce. She has to play into it. She has to. It’s the only way she will survive, they’ll survive. Odette likely fed her this shit, cut all ties, make sure no one follows, make sure no one is attached, burn all bridges. 

Ah and we’re back to pissed Nick. Nick who doesn’t like to be left in the dark ever, let alone when it deals with Bishop. Getting his edgy self being rude to Kasie but Kasie doesn’t even bat an eyelash. She knows Nick is hurting and she reaches out to him, she doesn’t take his tone to heart because she knows. Nick saying he wouldn’t know how she’s doing is just like a knife to the heart. He wants to know, desperately. He once thought he was the person she would go to in times like these but now all he’s getting is radio silence, a cold shoulder, and screened phone calls. He’s in visceral pain from the thought of her going through this alone, pain from everything he once thought true and good being destroyed in a day’s time. And Kasie is shocked that Nick hasn’t spoken to her. If that doesn’t tell you she knows that they are a thing and the gravity of all this, I don’t know what will. Nick should have spoken to her, clearly he wants to, in every other situation he would have already. But Kasie (and Jessica) just realized Ellie is shutting Nick out and that is Not Good. 

Back to Gibbs. Fucking asshole he is. McGee comes to you desperate to help his sister, Gibbs’ “daughter” and he goes “I think she’s at a crossroads” ???? Acting like he didn’t fucking encourage her at this so-called crossroads???? Like ???? The fuck???? Her crossroads was painfully obvious when she came to talk to you and YOU basically treated her like you couldn’t care less about her. That you had no clue what she was dealing with in her life and said as much. So yeah, she WAS at a fucking crossroads until you SHOVED her into oncoming traffic and said have a nice fucking life. AND THEN. McGee wants to help her and Gibbs tells him he can’t??? “Not this time” bitch this is YOUR FAULT. YOU COULD HAVE HELPED HER. COULD HAVE TALKED TO HER AT LEAST SOMEWHAT AND YOU DIDN’T. YOU SAID YOU DIDN’T REALIZE SHE WAS SPIRALING AND THAT YOU DIDN’T REGRET LEAVING YOUR SO-CALLED FOUND FAMILY IN THE DUST AND GUESS WHAT. SHE WENT AND PARROTED YOUR WORDS RIGHT BACK AT MCGEE SO FUCK YOU GIBBS. 

Ooooh Nick looks lethal, love that look, hate why he has that look though. Lol Nick getting ready to go murder the dude in interrogation because he set up Ellie and he’s just ignoring the fact that she claims she committed treason because he already knows there is literally no way on earth that she did it. And Vance realizing that Nick needs to stand down like fiiiiiiinally someone realized it. Obviously he isn’t gonna listen and poor Nick, this boy has it bad and he’s truly just SO WORRIED for what Ellie is about to do. Because right there, the confirmation that the file was a plant, that was the final puzzle piece falling into its perfect place. Every single thing he questioned, every little moment he’d replayed in his head, it all made sense. And he was so very pissed she hadn’t come to him- and honestly I think part of him is trying to ignore the WHY that’s behind that because he truly wouldn’t be able to think straight if he went there. I think that would be his end, going into the why she didn’t trust him, why she lied, why it hurts him so much. It would be the end, and yet…we’re just beginning here. And of course he knows exactly who is manipulating Ellie, he hadn’t trusted that scum from the start. So of course he goes straight to Odette’s cabin and lays in wait, probably pouring over all the documents and things Ellie did or didn’t leave behind there. 

Ellie pulling up in the truck and that heavy sigh? Yeah, she’s still not convinced this is a good idea. She’s running on emotions but that logical part of her (and deep down, her heart, knowing what she’s about to do- who she’s about to cut out of her life) is whispering of how very bad an idea this is. She still has to gather her willpower to get out of that car but when it’s Gibbs calling her? The same Gibbs that basically just kicked her out the door without so much as a wave goodbye? Yeah, the emotion just came rushing back, pushing the logic aside. She claims she can’t tell Nick because no shit if she has to look him in the face and lie and still say goodbye, it’ll kill her. She’s honestly not sure if she can go through with it. 

OH we back to a Gibbs hate novel, hold on. “I’M REALLY PROUD OF YOU BISHOP” WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. I’M REALLY PROUD YOU’RE THROWING EVERYTHING YOU EVER WORKED FOR AWAY, PUSHING THE ONES YOU LOVE THE MOST OUT OF YOUR LIFE, SACRIFICING YOUR ONE SHOT OF LOVE THAT YOU OF ALL PEOPLE DESERVE THE MOST. I’M SO PROUD OF YOU. Oh fuck OFF Gibbs. “Following your gut” oh shut UP. I just don’t understand this part. I don’t understand it, and I’m trying so hard for it to make sense, for it to be in character. Like does Gibbs have any clue?? I’m sure he recognizes the signs, I’m sure he has an inkling at this point. So how would he be proud? How the FUCK would he say he’s learned some stuff from her. Does he mistakenly trust Odette because of what she did for Ziva? Is he just so self-absorbed he doesn’t completely comprehend what Ellie is doing leaving Nick behind??? And Rule 91 is a load of shit. “When you decide to walk away, don’t look back” how FUCKING STUPID. Like Gibbs of all people, you should understand that is a SHIT rule. You’ve lost the people you loved dearly and you think she should just never look back? Like are you saying this so that Ellie has a clear head for the undercover op? Are you hoping she doesn’t get herself killed by being wrapped up in what she left behind??? What the actual fuck. Stupid ass rule honestly. It’s what you live by Gibbs and look how well that turned out for you. Look at the family you ditched. Nice fucking job. 

“It’s done” and “what are you talking about I did everything you asked” ok she’s 100% being manipulated and almost blackmailed somehow. There’s no other explanation. Eleanor Raye Bishop wouldn’t do this shit. Not willingly, not if she knew how much Nick loved her and how much she loved him (which if her words in just a minute are any indication, yeah she had a fucking clue). Odette calling Nick a loose end just SCREAMS how she purposefully fucking chose the moment Ellie and Nick started to get close to decide it was time for Ellie to go undercover. I just KNOW it. She’s a manipulative bitch and there is no limit to the rock bottom she will stoop to. 

Ellie knows who she’s talking about and the just look of fuck I have to actually tell him to his face. The doubt and grief and guilt and all of it, flashing across her face as she realizes she has to do this. She has to face this, she has to lie. She has to break his trust (not that she hasn’t already) something SHE made so painstakingly clear she needed from Nick. Nick is rightfully *pissed* I mean who can blame him. Ellie with her, “I have nothing to be sorry for.” I know Ellie is just doing her best to burn bridges, the hesitation and avoidance leading up to this lends itself to no other interpretation. She is going to say anything and everything to make sure Nick does not follow her. Make sure he stays as far away as possible from her. She can’t bear the thought of him getting hurt in some way from all this. Even though he may not get physically hurt, I don’t think she realizes the heart break is going to be worse. The painful part is Nick understands, he understands why she wants to do undercover. He had seen that glimmer in her eye when they were Charlie and Luis, he gets it, he’s been there. And he wishes so desperately he could impress every lesson he’s learned on her right then and there but at the same time he knows it won’t change a thing. He just wishes in vain that their love would change her mind, even if logic wouldn’t, their love surely could. I think Ellie starts to realize just how much Nick can see through her and that’s why she owns up to the fact that Odette planted the files, and also why I believe the leak was all an elaborate hack that Ellie didn’t know about. 

Then we get to the even more painful part of Nick giving us a glimpse of his raw heart. The why now with a voice crack and Ellie’s hedge at now wasn’t her choice with her own voice cracking, just is so so so telling. She could lie, she could really work at burning this relationship in a blaze of glory but she doesn’t, she owns up to the fact that she didn’t purposefully choose now (aka right when they were starting to figure things out between them), she’s not pulling the strings. Nick coming back with so you had a choice is like the little 5 year old boy whose dad is walking out on him again and it just HURTS. And at the same time Ellie is also the young, insecure agent right now who just wants to prove herself. She wants to be viewed as “ready” and the man whose opinion she bases way too much of her self-worth in didn’t say he was proud of her until she was upending her career to go on some deep cover op where she ditches everyone important in her life. 

“How long?” “Too long.” Yeah ok FUCK ME. They both know exactly what they’re talking about without even saying the actual words. Ellie’s voice cracks once again because of the emotion in Nick’s voice and what he’s implying. It pains her to leave him and what they’re becoming behind. It viscerally hurts her, you can see it on her face. She doesn’t want it to be too long, but she knows it will be. She can’t fathom that he’d stay or wait for her, she doesn’t think she even deserves that. 

Tbh it’s so hard to put this all into words. To fully convey to you how angry and hurt I am over this shit. Ellie’s being manipulated and hurt that she has to burn this bridge and push Nick as far away from her as possible. She thinks its her only out and what should be expected of her based off her conversation with Gibbs because then she parrots his exact words back at Nick when he begs, literally begs her to say something after she was willing to leave without saying goodbye (which we know is because she didn’t think she was going to be able to look Nick in the eye and still go through with it all), “sometimes there’s nothing left to be said” like fuck you Gibbs for planting that in her head. There’s PLENTY left to be said. Clearly Nick was not pleased you blew him off Ellie, he wants you to say anything that would make this make sense (we all are tbh) and she says you know my *favorite* line, “I didn’t mean for us to happen.” Nick is all of us with his “something else” because WHAT THE FUCK. This is how I know Ellie was going full throttle with her strategy of pushing Nick away. This was the one thing she could say that would hit hardest for Nick. The man who is insecure about anyone truly loving him and him being a person deserving of a love that “stays” and for Ellie to say she didn’t mean to fall in love and even though they did she’s still going to leave because it was never in the plan, just damn, stab him in the back and twist that knife Ellie. And just like her body language this WHOLE TIME 💀💀💀 she’s just shaking her head because she doesn’t even believe her own words, she doesn’t want to confront this, she doesn’t want to end this. There’s tears in her eyes because everything she’s saying is a lie and it hurts it hurts so damn much but she has to. She’s been manipulated into believing she has to do this, has to say these things. And his body language too, I mean he is tight. He is standing so rigid, hands clasped behind his back because he’s trying to convey openness and vulnerability and it’s so much growth for Nick, so much growth and Ellie is still ripping his heart out and stomping on it. And when she chokes out that goodbye you can hear and feel how final she believes it to be. She doesn’t think he’ll stick around or even want to. In this vein I think she underestimates his love for her here. And if the show goes a different way with it, they’re little bitches. It is in character for Nick to do everything in his power and outside of the rules to find & save Ellie. I will riot if I don’t see unhinged Nick some point early in s19 (I say like I’m going to watch religiously), because that is the only logical reaction to her leaving like this. 

The kiss. It’s a beautiful fucking kiss and it’s ruined by context. It’s an emotional kiss, Ellie throws her body behind it, gripping his face with both hands because she doesn’t want to let him go (even though she’s going to), she clutches to this memory like she clutches to his face. Nick’s clenched expression because he doesn’t want to open his heart up to more heartbreak but when he leans into the kiss and gives the kiss back you know he’s a goner. And maybe a part of him doesn’t care because this may be his last memory of her for a long time and he’s going to burn it into his memory too. It’s why he keeps his eyes shut after she’s left for so long, he doesn’t want to open them and the reality of her retreating back be the last thing he sees of Ellie. He wants the kiss to be the last thing, he doesn’t want to face his reality. His hands had even come out from behind his back, reaching out to her subconsciously willing her not to leave. Meanwhile, Ellie opens her eyes for that last kiss on the cheek to get one last long look at Nick, one last look that will hold her over for who knows how long. A look at his vulnerable face, a face she loves. A look that she hopes will keep her warm at night even though she knows she’ll never get it this close to her again because there’s no way in hell that Nick would entertain the thought of them together again after what she’s done. She doesn’t look back because she can’t. She can’t see Nick’s wounded face just standing there, broken or she won’t go. And Nick tries to stand resolute, the anger and pain flashing across his face before he grits his teeth together and *hopefully* resolves to find Odette and kill her I mean save Ellie I mean kill Odette 🙊

Anyways, there’s only a very specific way this entire finale makes sense. And I know Emily’s pregnancy threw it for a loop, but they can still SOMEWHAT fix this. Do I think they will? Hell fucking no. I have zero expectations, in fact negative expectations. I have a feeling what we were supposed to see is Nick going on an absolute swan rampage to find Ellie and clear her name throughout the first couple episodes of s19 and with Emily leaving the show, I’m not sure how they’ll twist this. I can see why they thought this was a fun cliffhanger because it would eventually be resolved and I do believe they would’ve eventually gotten ellick together after Nick found her. But unless Emily comes back at the end of the show, that won’t happen, at least not on screen. And with that I just 🥲 I’m still mad, I’m still broken inside but yeah. I’m a masochist before anything else apparently and so I made myself rewatch and write this out. A bittersweet pissed off adieu to the WWR. maybe one day i’ll find another ship & show that gets this level of meta out of me, but it’s been real ellick, it’s been really real ❤️

[renegadewangs]

Van Zieks - the Examination, part 5

Warnings: SPOILERS for The Great Ace Attorney: Chronicles. Additional warning for racist sentiments uttered by fictional characters (and screencaps to show these sentiments).

Disclaimer: (see Part 1 for the more detailed disclaimer.) - These posts are not meant to be taken as fact. Everything I’m outlining stems from my own views and experiences. If you believe that I’ve missed or misinterpreted something, please let me know so I can edit the post accordingly. -The purpose of these posts is an analysis, nothing more. Please do not come into these posts expecting me to either defend Barok van Zieks from haters, nor expecting me to encourage the hatred. - I’m using the Western release of The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles for these posts, but may refer to the original Japanese dialogue of Dai Gyakuten Saiban if needed to compare what’s said. This also means I’m using the localized names and localized romanization of the names to stay consistent. -It doesn’t matter one bit to me whether you like Barok van Zieks or dislike him. However, I will ask that everyone who comments refrains from attacking real, actual people.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

It’s time to return to the first game for case 5, The Unspeakable Story!

Episode 5: The Unspeakable Story – Part 1

Prepare yourselves, this is a big one! So big, even, that I'm going to have to split it into two parts. Fortunately, we can skip over the entire Investigation segment, because virtually none of it is relevant to Van Zieks. In fact, we don't even learn Van Zieks is the prosecutor until we enter the courtroom and see him standing there. Somehow, no one thought to ask who Ryu would be facing. What we do learn during the Investigation is confirmation that McGilded was indeed a lying scumbag who murdered Thrice-fired Mason. He asked Gina to lie for him in a court of law, too. So indeed, Ryu backed the wrong horse in The Runaway Room and Van Zieks was right to suspect the defense of deceit. He was wrong in how he worded half his arguments, though.

An extra thing worth noting is that after the conversation in which the blood is found on Gina's coat and the truth of McGilded comes out, it's revealed that Gregson was hiding nearby in the shadows. He insists he didn't eavesdrop and only just walked in, but it's implied much later in the trial that he knew about the blood on the coat. This means that Gregson is, from this point on, holding the full knowledge that McGilded was McGuilty in the omnibus murder.

So into the courtroom we go, where it is shown we're facing Van Zieks. (And nobody is surprised, because who else would it have been? Auchi?) It is now two months after the Runaway Room and the two Clouded Kokoro cases, so immediately upon starting the trial, the judge basically asks Van Zieks whether he's gone insane- in his own words, that is. First he asks how many years it's been since Van Zieks retired, to which Van Zieks replies that it's been five. The judge notes that Van Zieks resurfaced rather suddenly two months ago, (then basically handled three cases in a single week,) and showed up again today.

HAH. I love how on the nose this judge is when it comes to dissing the prosecution. He goes on to state that Van Zieks used to deal exclusively in matters concerned with 'the highest echelons of society and government', yet today he's trying 'a simple case of burglary and murder'. We already learned this from Gregson in case 1-4, but it's nice to have it repeated again.

Van Zieks replies that there's two things he cannot abide: “Wealthy scoundrels who hide behind a mask of philanthropy-” (hi McGilded!) and... “Secondly- even more loathsome... Those wily scoundrels who masquerade as allies only to effect total betrayal in the final hour.”

So that settles it then. He's specifically taken on his three most recent cases because there were Japanese people involved. He's also outright admitting that which Ryu had already guessed: Van Zieks hates Japanese people and going by his wording (“betrayal”, etc.) he has some bad experiences. Ryu wonders whether that 'torrid look of hatred' in Van Zieks's eyes is directed at him or at all Japanese people. Frankly, I think that in a subconscious sense, it's neither. The way I see it, that torrid look of hatred is directed at a man who died ten years ago. But I'll get back to this when it's time to address the backstory. The judge finds that an “alarmingly scathing explanation”, but welcomes the Reaper of the Bailey back to court all the same.

I love the implication that Van Zieks can apparently just come and go as he pleases in terms of prosecuting. Retirement can just be upturned on a whim and he's allowed to choose any case he wants. Who even is keeping him informed on which cases are happening and who the defense is? Is there a Chief Prosecutor in play we don't know about or is Stronghart slipping notes into his letterbox? Or has Van Zieks been entering the prosecutor's office every day for the past two months, demanding to hear news of 'that Nipponese attorney'?

So anyway, Van Zieks lays out the opening statement, pours himself a glass of wine, accuses Ryu of jumping to conclusions and reveals that he has witnesses. Remember when he threw aside his cloak halfway into 1-3 and it was seen as a big deal? … Yeah. It's not much anymore, now. He gets rid of it before the first witnesses have even taken the stand. The guys called forth are literal criminals who happened to break into the scene of the crime and, according to Van Zieks, “will face trial in the very near future” for their “various trespasses”. Alright, so he's acknowledging he's called forth some sketchy witnesses, but considers the murder itself far more sinister than their burglary.

Ryu manages to prove the taller Skulkin brother fired a gun at the crime scene and in doing so, struck poor innocent (S)Holmes. (Ryu presents a picture of a blood-stained calendar with a bullet in it to prove this, yet ten minutes later, he'll present the exact same picture and the entire court will act as if they'd never seen it before. Awkwaaard.) Van Zieks pours himself another glass of wine, toasts to Ryu's incompetence and later has another micro-aggression:

Scumbag points! And also possibly hilarious foreshadowing if he's referring to either Asogi Sr. or Mikotoba here. Though it's hard to say how well acquainted Van Zieks was with (S)Holmes and his partner roughly 16 to 10 years ago. Anyway, Van Zieks flings another chalice and basically admits that he already knew these two criminals gunned down (S)Holmes, but made a deal with them not to get into that. Though technically, Ryu was the one who got into it by proving it in court, so Van Zieks didn't break any unscrupulous deals. And maybe he was even expecting Ryu to do so? Maybe that's why he was pushing Ryu to present evidence? Either way, Van Zieks now owes 'his Nipponese friend' a word of gratitude, since he helpfully confirmed the two brothers couldn't possibly have shot the victim. Only one bullet was fired from their pistol, after all, and if it hit (S)Holmes it couldn't possibly have killed Windibank.

Van Zieks proceeds to “take a moment to consider the aforementioned Great Detective, Mr. Sholmes” (KEEP THIS LINE IN MIND), and brings up the security cameras (S)Holmes planted at the pawnshop so that he can present a picture of the defendant waving a pistol at the victim. Why didn't he present this evidence immediately instead of asking two shady burglars to testify? Who even knows, man. He's being erratic, just as the judge said. The jurors have seen enough and vote guilty, so it's time for a Summation Examination! Van Zieks poured himself another glass of wine before Ryu even asserted his right to that, because he knew it was coming. He has to stand in silence and so he will drink.

(Juror No 1, aka Mr. Garrideb, proceeds to piss me off by oggling the maid juror. I thought the whole point of this character was that his wife misunderstood and jumped to conclusions; that she's been punishing him wrongfully since he does indeed love her and will stand by her side no matter what, but apparently not.) Some tomfoolery later, we require the prosecution's help to prove stereoscopes are just as cool as wireless telegraphy.

I honestly think it's hilarious that he's meant to stay silent but has broken that rule several times, so now we're taunting him by asking him a direct question during the Examination. So after it's been proven the two criminals moved some stuff around inside the pawnshop, four jurors vote not-guilty and the trial continues. The two witnesses get called back to the stand and---

… Okay. So he definitely is against perjury. He seems to hate it, even. He apparently keeps giving them the evil eye as they testify, intimidating Ringo into telling the truth. But I just can't shake the memory of him feeding a lie to Shamspeare in Memoirs of the Clouded Kokoro. Also, the game very much caught me off guard during this testimony when I presented a piece of evidence which wasn't correct, but instead of leading to a penalty led me to a unique set of dialogue not found when presenting other wrong evidence. That is to say, I presented a picture of Gina holding the sole gun to disprove the testimony that both she and Windibank were wielding guns, which led to:

Isn't that what we often do in these games? Van Zieks clearly hasn't been paying attention. Anyway, the judge points out that so long as I couldn't prove that Gina was still holding the only gun some time later, when Windibank was shot, the evidence wasn't relevant. So I had to present the picture of Windibank's body (not holding a gun) instead. Ryu manages to point out through that picture that the Skulkin brothers were lying and-

OKAY OKAY. I GET IT. Van Zieks hates perjury with a burning passion and Memoirs of the Clouded Kokoro messed up. The trial continues on to the point where Ryu manages to suggest that the Skulkin brothers shot Windibank and Gina then locked the door to save herself. At first Van Zieks is shocked at the notion, but after Ryu details his logic, he just puts his hands down on the desk and chuckles.

This is the first time we see something close to laughter from him, and it's not even really laughter. It's just a malicious, bitter little noise. In fact, we've never seen him smile. He's not even smiling now, as he cackles. That's a stark contrast from other prosecutors, who all smile/smirk as they gloat. Barok's facial expression barely changes at all. Are they building up to something? Anyway, the judge wonders why Van Zieks finds this amusing, as he found the argument quite persuasive himself. Van Zieks pours himself another glass of wine and says:

“But such blatantly malicious conjuring tricks amount to nothing more than inexcusable pettifoggery here. Because you see, it contains a fatal flaw!”

Scumbag points! He then proceeds to imply all the members of the jury are too dimwitted to count (as he flings his chalice). Bullets, that is. There were two bullets found at the crime scene and there were two guns recovered, each having fired one bullet. So if the Skulkin brothers had shot (S)Holmes, they couldn't possibly have shot Windibank as well.

Bye wine bottle, rip person sitting behind him. Van Zieks proceeds to slander Gina for being “far from a law-abiding citizen” and having “a past riddled with criminal misconduct”. To further illustrate his point, he presents a piece of evidence that the defendant attempted to steal the day beforehand, not with the subtlety of a pickpocket but by brute force and brazen impudence. Gregson loses it at this point, shouting out a loud “Hold it!” before losing his nerve and stammering his way through his protest. He mentions that there was a meeting with the prosecution service where it was agreed that piece of evidence wouldn't be used. Ryu is baffled and thinks this:

And now I'm baffled as well, because thinking back on it... Yes, Gregson has talked about Van Zieks before in Investigation segments and has been called in to testify, but as far as I can recall, he hasn't ever addressed Van Zieks directly. Fascinating stuff. Van Zieks says he's unaware of this meeting- probably because he found out Ryu's defending later on and snatched this case up at the last second. Perhaps even took it from the originally-assigned prosecutor with brute force and brazen impudence. Gregson insists that 'the government bigwigs' were very insistent about not using the disc as evidence, to which Van Zieks says:

Good gracious, Van Zieks is a loose cannon! … Or wait, maybe he's a reckless renegade? Or is he perhaps a prosecutor on the edge with nothing to lose? (Alright, put on a pot of coffee- we're gonna get to the bottom of this!) ...Either way, the prosecution thinks it's sufficiently made its case by establishing motive, opportunity and baseness of character.

OY! I thought you don't read third-rate detective stories! But Iris specifically wrote that line into existence, so he must have. Me thinks we've got a closet Adventures of (S)Herlock (S)Holmes fan on our hands, here. The jury buys into his slander, votes guilty, Iris accuses him of being mean and Ryu enters Summation Examination mode a second time.

Oh he knows what he's in for. He knows. Several minutes of talking about bullets later, the topic of (S)Holmes's waist pouch is brought up and Iris wonders whether perhaps the bullet hit one of the glass vials with flammable content. Van Zieks suddenly speaks up with an “If I may...”, catching the startled attention of Ryu in particular.

“I should inform the defence that I have the pouch in question in the antechamber outside the courtroom. As I understand it, when the police arrived on the scene and found Mr Sholmes injured, they removed the pouch in order to assess the wound. Since then, it has been in my safekeeping along with all other evidence relating to the case. I can personally vouch for the fact that it has not been touched since the incident occurred.”

This whole plotline cracks me up with how little sense it makes, considering the position of this pouch on (S)Holmes's outfit. But I'm not here to criticize plot-convenience of evidence, so let's move on and look at what's actually happening here. The defense is discussing possibilities with the jurors in hopes of changing their minds towards a not-guilty and instead of keeping silent, as he's supposed to during this moment, Van Zieks actively speaks up to admit he has a piece of evidence which may be of assistance. It's entirely possible that the pouch would have all three vials intact and thereby dismiss the theory that the bullet hit one of them, but... Regardless of whether he remembers seeing a broken vial with his own eyes, he's taking a risk by showing the pouch. He could've played by the Summation Examination rules, kept his mouth shut and then later when it comes out he had the pouch all along, just remind everyone he wasn't allowed to speak. That's what most prosecutors would've done. Naturally, it's revealed there was indeed a broken vial and some scorched leather, and even closer examination reveals a third bullet we can present to the jurors.

Scumbag point! So with all the confusion on the third bullet and the implication of there being a third gun, the judge does something pretty extraordinary. He doesn't wait for the jurors to change their leaning and instead actually suspends the Summation Examination until the matter is cleared up. This implies any judge has the power to overrule juror leanings, at the very least during Summation Examination, when they feel the case presented by the counsels is lacking important details. Anyway, closing argument on hold for now and the Skulkins return to the stand. Barok looks them straight in the eyes with his usual evil eye and asks them whether the third gun is one of theirs. When that's denied, he asks whether they had an accomplice, which is also denied. And it's kind of funny, because only a few minutes later when Ryu implies they had an accomplice, we get this line:

“Yet in all that time, there has been not a murmur of a third man. If this apparently wraithlike being exists...” pause for chalice crush... “The court must be shown hard evidence!”

But Van Zieks was the one who questioned the Skulkins about an accomplice earlier, so... Indeed, we don't have evidence, but the murmur was definitely already there. So now the prosecution wants two things: evidence there was a third person on the scene and their identity. The game prompts two options: Either present an answer to the prosecution's demands or, y'know, don't. Naturally I chose the latter option to see what happens and it goes about as well as you'd expect. Ryu stutters and trails off, Van Zieks notes the defense is unable to complete a sentence, let alone provide credible answers... Iris takes the place of Susato in telling Ryu off for faltering, so Ryu desperately tries to catch himself and push his argument. Van Zieks says: “So, my Nipponese friend, despite the swimming eyes you seem to think you have something to say...”

PENALTY FROM THE PROSECUTION, oh how I've missed you. Loading up the savegame and choosing the first option actually also leads to the exact same line of “so, my Nipponese friend, despite the swimming eyes you seem to think you have something to say...”, just with a slightly different posture and followed up with the words “this promises to be interesting.” Ryu presents the blood sample on the calendar once more and as I said before, the court acts as if they've never seen this picture before. Hilarious. Van Zieks asks why the blood is depicted as green and Ryu explains it's because of a new chemical (S)Holmes invented. The green blood is then linked to Eggert Benedict through the music disc. The court gets very excited, but much like the skin prints in case 2-2, this isn't admissible evidence. Van Zieks says “this has gone on long enough now. This flagrant ignorance of the mechanics of law.”

“The protagonist in a series of short stories for the vulgar classes. A god of detection or some such. And now you employ chemical substances devised by this fantastical persona in the highest court in the land? Do you expect us to take you seriously? The samples made by this plaything are not fit to be called evidence.”

These lines! I had a quick look at both Scarlet Study's and Taisa's scripts, and there Van Zieks outright accuses (S)Holmes of being a fictional character. He doesn't actually diss the stories themselves though, nor is there anything similar to that plaything line. He only says the chemical itself is 'rubbish'. What ultimately kills me is the “Yes, I’ve heard the name” as if this is the first time it’s being uttered in the courtroom. Let's be merciful here and take case 2-2 out of the equation. Yes, (S)Holmes is mentioned several times there, they establish the two have some sort of history and he even enters the courtroom at one point to address Van Zieks directly, but that case was developed after this one so accidental retcon is bound to happen. No, let's look solely at the cases in the first game. (S)Holmes has been mentioned several times throughout the course of this trial, even by Van Zieks himself. Even better, Van Zieks was the one to present photographs taken by one of (S)Holmes's playthings earlier on. OOPS.

Ryu enters despair mode because there really is no way to prove that the color green is unique to Eggert Benedict, nor would it be accepted as evidence to begin with. But that's okay, because much like the skin prints in 2-2, it was never about having it filed as official evidence. It was about influencing the jury and as Iris so smartly points out, the Summation Examination was suspended earlier. This means that technically, it's still going on. It doesn't matter what the prosecution or the judge thinks of (S)Holmes's invention, it only matters what the jurors think, as they now have the power to force the trial to continue. Naturally, the majority votes not-guilty. Van Zieks objects rather ferociously. “My lord, with all due respect, this is an outrage! The prosecution refuses to accept this decision!” (heehee, I really enjoy these lines. With all due respect, indeed.) The judge asks on what grounds the prosecution is objecting, and Van Zieks says:

“Then they are too ignorant to be trusted with the judgement of anyone's guilt!”

Gosh, he really doesn't enjoy how 'gullible' the jurors are, does he? Or rather, he gets frustrated when the jurors begin to think for themselves instead of taking the prosecution's word for it. The judge sets Van Zieks straight by basically reminding him that this is how the court works.

It is so satisfying to watch him squirm. Van Zieks wants us to play by the court's rules, so we're playing by the court's rules and now he's got no more comebacks. This is it folks, we're subpoena-ing Egg Benedict! He does indeed show up to court after a brief intermission and reveals his true name to be Ashley Graydon. Graydon expresses haughty dismay that the highest court of the land was swayed by some self-professed detective's homemade tincture. Van Zieks tells him it was the will of the jury, and their great British justice system demands that the jury's will is upheld. Graydon calls the jury members inept, as Van Zieks has done many times before, but agrees to testify. Ryu attempts to needle this guy several times by asserting he was definitely at the crime scene, but indeed, the blood sample doesn't count as evidence and Ryu doesn't really have anything else to back him up. Van Zieks oh-so-kindly reminds him that the obligation to prove the defense's assertion lies with, well, the defense. Eventually we do get there and Graydon starts making up some bullshit story about how he met McGilded in a gentlemen's club and bonded with him over unique music box music, so that's what that disc was. Van Zieks points out that Yard have indeed been gathering items believed to have been McGilded's property, presumably to aid their investigations. Gregson once again loses his composure here and tries to shut the conversation down.

Gregson and Van Zieks continue to banter back and forth about how Gregson is definitely not allowed to talk about these things and Van Zieks should also know better than to pry. Even Ryu thinks it's strange the two of them are bickering like that. Anyway, we're not allowed to discuss the McGilded stuff, so back to Graydon and his breaking and entering! Van Zieks asserts that if the police confiscated the disc beforehand and Graydon saw this happen, there was no reason for him to break into the pawnshop anymore.

Oooh, that's some tasty triumph over Van Zieks's ignorance! Ryu brings up the second item pawned by McGilded, a 'small box'. Van Zieks insists that no such thing was stolen from the pawnshop and he can prove it, since he has a picture of the shelves from before the break-in and one from after the break-in. You know, the pictures taken by that idiot detective's silly little plaything! Through the magic of stereoscopes (or the 3D Slider in the 3DS version), Ryu can see that a small box was moved.

It's absolutely hilarious that most of the court has to go cross-eyed to do the stereoscope thing and then there's Van Zieks, with a fancy stereoscope device that he just happened to have with him in a trial he couldn't possibly predict would require a stereoscope. He's so extra! Ryu asserts that if the box was moved, they have to raise the question of what was inside it and send the Yard to retrieve that thing at once. Van Zieks objects, saying that “some little box belonging to a man who died two months ago can't possibly be relevant to this trial.” The judge doesn't see it his way, though, and overrules his objection. Nice! So officers are dispatched to Baker Street to fetch the box and Van Zieks grumbles to himself about being hoodwinked by a farce.

The judge once again doesn't take kindly to Van Zieks's attitude problems and I love this. I can't wait for the prosecution to be penalized, because it feels like it's right around the corner here. Van Zieks elaborates that this whole thing is nothing but a smoke screen; a Nipponese specialty. Scumbag points for this one! I can't entirely connect this to Professor foreshadowing, I think it's just him being petty. Either way, he's going to jump through hoops now. Mere minutes ago he established that the Yard is still investigating McGilded's stuff and the 'aftermath' of his activities, but he's flipping it all over now. He begins to talk about how McGilded died two months ago, immediately after the trial in which he was found not-guilty.

“So I propose a toast. To my learned friend, and his most... insightful defense.”

So the logic being used here now is that McGilded was a fine, upstanding citizen and anything he pawned was truly innocent/ordinary, so why would someone want to steal it? The only way to prove that there's more to these items than might be apparent would be for Ryu to reveal that the acquittal was a mistake and the defense's argument was based on false information. They all suspected this two months ago, though. It was made abundantly clear that the only reason McGilded walked free was because nobody could say for certain whether the evidence was tampered with. Either way, Ryu's cornered now and wondering to himself whether Van Zieks knows the items in question are related to the omnibus murder. He probably does. He has access to the evidence, which means he has access to to the pawn tickets which hold some very specific dates on them.

The game gives Ryu an option whether or not to have Gina testify about what happened two months ago, but this option isn't real. If you choose 'leave it', Ryu still decides within two lines of dialogue that they have to uncover the truth. There's no penalty for stalling. So Ryu calls for Gina to testify and Van Zieks definitely knows what's up.

“In particular, the impact it will have on the accused's standing... And indeed your own.”

So this is a warning, clear and simple. Van Zieks knows shit will hit the fan. Or, as he later phrases it, it will bring the court down around Ryu's ears. But Ryu insists upon the testimony, the prosecution agrees and Gina is put on the stand. The judge tells Graydon he can step down, Graydon promptly sees this as an excuse to leave and bids them all a good day, but Van Zieks tells him to wait.

Oh, this... I like this. By now, Van Zieks has caught on to Ryu's little trick of watching the reactions from other witnesses during testimonies. He's purposely making Graydon stand there and listen to Gina's testimony just in case he reacts in such an overdramatic way, Ryu can pursue it. Iiinteresting! Now it seems as if he's on our side, but we're not quite there yet. Before Gina can begin her testimony, Van Zieks reminds her that if it turns out she willfully withheld information two months ago, she'll be prosecuted for perjury. That's just an intimidation technique to get her not to reveal what she withheld. … Which is weird, because you'd think Van Zieks would want her to spill those beans. Either way, with some encouragement from Ryu and Iris, Gina begins to talk about the lies she told. Aaand we're ending the essay here for now, because we're only about halfway into this disaster of a trial and the plot will only thicken from here on out. Stay tuned for part 2 of The Unspeakable Story!

[lizzie-tempest]

I can make a slightly different request, which would be Papyrus' point of view and opinion.

What would be the reaction of the papyrus (Undertale, Underswap, Underfell, Horrortale and Swapfell) to the relationship of his brother Yandere with his companion. How do they find out what he (Au! Sans) does when the reader isn’t seeing and how the relationship is a little toxic and controlling.

{ Example: they find out that they killed people for “love”, or invaded the reader's home to see when she is sleeping, or has an altar where there are objects that the reader thought she had lost or thrown away... }

Ooh this is a good one.  I hope this is okay.

Undertale

Papyrus is surprisingly not as shocked as he should’ve been.  At least, he wasn’t at first.  Sans has tried to control him for his entire life, under the guise of “protecting him”.  Papyrus doesn’t need protecting, and he’s nowhere near as naive as people think he is.  He’s not stupid, he knew when Sans got into a relationship with you, that his brother would be possessive.

He just didn’t realize how far Sans would go in order to keep you to himself.

The first incident is when Sans puts something in your drink while you’re looking at something else.  Papyrus frowns at this.  He knows something isn’t right when he sees Sans’ guilty look and he’s about to say something to you.

But while you’re still distracted, Sans signs to him.  He explains that you’ve been stressed at work, that you’re burning out and he’s concerned that you’re going to get sick.  Sans insists that he’s only slipped a sleeping pill into your drink and that you’ll just get upset and more stressed if you find out.

So despite what he wants, Papyrus says nothing.  

Weeks later, he walks into the house and finds Sans desperately scrubbing at...everything.  The reason?  Well, it probably has to do with the body lying on the floor.  

Papyrus’ first thought is that this human broke into the house and attacked Sans, causing his brother to defend himself.  Sans himself seems pretty shaken up when he realizes he’s there.  So Papyrus, being the great brother that he is, helps him clean up.  He helps dispose of the body and by the next morning, the house is completely spotless.  It’s only then that Papyrus asks Sans what happened.

“he tried to take her from me.  i had to do it.  he was gonna take her!” Sans stammers out.

There’s a growing feeling of dread in the pit of his soul as Sans continues to make excuses.  He realizes then that the house is silent.  Where are you?

“Where is (y/n)?”  

“the basement.  but - “

Papyrus has already headed down the stairs before Sans can carry on.  That’s where he finds you.  You’re chained by the ankle, completely terrified and you start screaming when Sans comes in after you, begging Papyrus to save you.

The cogs turn quicker than he thought possible.  He remembers the sleeping pills.  The way Sans isolated you from your old friends.  

He doesn’t waste a second.  

Before Sans can act, Papyrus uses his blue magic on his own brother.  He breaks the chain and scoops you up.  He knows you’re not safe here.  He loves his brother, but he can’t allow him to cause any more harm.  

Papyrus is able to get you a fair distance before his magic finally releases its hold on Sans.  Of course, by that time it’s too late.  Papyrus has already alerted Undyne and the Royal Guard.  

It doesn’t take long for him to be captured.  But it’s alright!  Even if Sans has done horrible things, Papyrus is more than happy to visit him in prison!  

Underswap

The first that Stretch hears about you is when Blue comes home one day, all excited and simply gushing about you.  His eyelights have turned into baby blue hearts as he speaks and Stretch has to admit that it’s adorable.  How can he NOT think it’s cute?  His lil bro has a crush!  He teases Blue a bit but leaves it when the smaller skeleton’s grin becomes strained and his eyelights all but vanish.  

Okay.  It’s a touchy subject.  He makes a note of it and thinks it’s just due to puppy love.  He doesn’t think much more of it.

Until he goes into Blue’s room not long after.  He’s looking for a video game that his brother borrowed and he knows he shouldn’t be in Blue’s room, but it wasn’t exactly forbidden, so he presumes it’s okay.

That’s when he finds it.

It’s some kind of intricately constructed altar.  Stretch is almost impressed at the sheer detail and work that’s gone into it.  Until he realizes what the altar is for.

There’s numerous pictures of a human, you, placed on the altar.  They were obviously taken when you weren’t looking, some taken from far away.  There’s one picture that seems to be a picture of you and what looks to be your boyfriend.  Stretch immediately thinks of how crushed Blue will be.  And then he looks closer at the picture.  You have been surrounded by hearts and stars.  Your partner on the other hand has had their head cut off.  What’s even more disturbing is that Blue seems to have glued a picture of his own head in its place.

This is enough to unnerve him, but for some reason Stretch can’t bring himself to look away.

There’s socks and underwear.  A lock of hair.  The more he looks, the more that he starts to think that you could be in danger.  

He takes a good look at your photo, memorizing your features so that he can find you and warn you of what Blue is doing.  He loves his brother.  But this isn’t okay.

Stretch turns to leave.

Blue is standing right behind him.

Underfell

Unsurprisingly, Edge doesn’t really care much.  In fact, he’s downright proud of Red!  His brother is actually putting in the effort!

Edge doesn’t really find out about Red’s yandere tendencies.  Red just doesn’t bother to hide it.  There have been plenty of times where Red has kidnapped a human that tried to get close to you and has beaten the shit out of them before killing them.

Edge finds he’s especially proud during those moments.  He watches his brother torture these humans and he has to admit that he’s constantly surprised.  In a pleasant way.  Red always seems to have a new way of torturing them and it’s so wonderfully creative.

He hates that it had to take coming to the surface before Red put in some effort to hunt humans, but he’s still grateful to you for getting his brother out of whatever depression he was in.

So needless to say, he helps keep Red’s secret.  He helps to clean up the blood and dispose of the bodies.  

When Edge finally meets you, he’s surprised again at your manners and how you seem to be the complete opposite of his brother.  Oh no, his brother was right!  You are too precious for this world!

Edge is more involved with Red’s “activities” after that.

Horrortale

“Sigh.  Again, brother?”

This isn’t the first time that Axe has acted this way towards a human, so Crooks is able to spot the signs early on.  Luckily, Axe has only managed to kill one human who’s managed to piss him off this time.  Maybe this time will be different?

Okay maybe not.

Crooks isn’t surprised to find that you are just like the other girls who Axe has pursued (and killed when things didn’t go his way).  The only difference is your soul.  He wants to believe that it could be the turning point.  Crooks is still a Papyrus after all, and he wants to believe that his brother could still be better.  He’s tired of cleaning up the blood and storing the bodies in the freezer so that they can eat them later.  There’s no need to continue with that now that they are on the surface and Crooks wants to be able to move on.

But as long as Axe continues to be a yandere, Crooks knows it won’t be possible.  

He’s resigned himself to this fate.  He’s tried again and again to convince his brother that this isn’t the way to do things.  Axe never listens.

So he’s forced to watch as Axe does the same routine.  Painting the picture of a big, misunderstood scary looking monster who is as lovable as a teddy bear.  And to you, he is exactly that.

But Crooks sees the dangerous look in his brother’s gaze when you laugh at some guy’s joke.  He doesn’t know who will endure Axe’s wrath: you or the poor guy who tried to flirt with you.

He tries to avoid your accusing, hateful gaze when Axe finally caves and traps you in the shed.

Swapfell

Mutt’s not gonna lie, he raises a brow bone when he figures it out.  He didn’t exactly expect Black to be a yandere, but at the same time he’s not exactly surprised.  

And of course, he’s roped into going along with it.

Black has him stalking you, finding out your likes and dislikes and everything about you under the sun.  Mutt doesn’t really like it, but he doesn’t want to go against his brother.  Black deserves the best after all.  If he has to do a few bad things in order to make that happen, then he will.

So he obeys Black’s orders and does what he wants.  Any information that Mutt gathers is immediately passed on to his brother, who then uses it to his advantage on any date he goes on with you.

One day he’s cleaning out his room, at Black’s request.  He’s got some stuff in boxes and is taking them up to the attic.  But when he tries to open the door, he finds it locked tight.  Huh, the door’s never been locked before.  And he’s pretty sure he can hear something on the other side.  Some kind of whimpering?

He takes the boxes to the basement instead.

At dinner Mutt brings up the locked attic and the noises.  It doesn’t escape his notice how Black stiffens slightly.  His brother has never been good at lying so when he says it’s nothing to worry about, Mutt can’t help but be curious.

When he’s sure that Black is asleep, he heads back to the attic and takes a shortcut inside.  He wasn’t expecting you to be there, huddled in the corner and absolutely terrified.

Oh shit.  What has his brother done? 

You’re shaking, but something in you must see how scared he is, because you ask him to get you out.  You promise you won’t say anything.  You’ll leave and he’ll never see you again.

...

Mutt knows that if you suddenly disappeared, Black would know that it would be him who did it.  He doesn���t know how far his brother’s temper will go.  He’s been lucky in the past.  But he doesn’t want to die, and he knows that if he helps you then Black would kill him for sure.

He refuses to help you.

He’s confident in his decision.

That doesn’t mean your screams and the way you beg for help doesn’t haunt his dreams at night.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Can I request for a Draco x reader of the reader being a muggle born Gryffindor? He doesn’t show it but he has feelings for her and not knowing how to act on them, he picks on her every chance he gets. As it was another one of those days at Hogwarts, he gets in trouble in class and blames it on her, resulting in her getting detention with Umbridge. The next day, she was in one of the same classes as Draco and was sitting next to him. He noticed that there was something on her hand and when he

The second part got cut off, but it says ‘asks her about it, she brushes it off as nothing and quickly moves it away and covers it. When he got a better look at it that day, he asks again and she tells him. When he learns what happened, he started to feel guilty. When she refused to report it after he asked her to, he reported it to Dumbledore. In the end, he admits his feelings for her and she does as well. They begin dating in the end.’

Thanks so much for the request, I tried to keep it as close as possible. Sorry it took so long. 💕

Summary: Draco loves to pick on Y/N, until the day he takes it too far.

Pairing: Draco x Female Reader

Y/N= Your Name

Y/L/N= Your Last Name

Words: 676

Masterlist

My Sentiments Exactly

Y/N is the bane of Draco’s existence. You’re a filthy mudblood. You’re a sodding know it all. You’re a bloody Gryffindor. You’re a...vision in your Yule Ball gown.

And it’s his mission to make you pay for it. At least once a day, for the remainder of your time at Hogwarts.

Sometimes it’s an itching spell on your robes, mocking you in charms class, or causing one of your perfectly brewed potions to explode. However recently he’s become a bit more hands on with his tactics.

“Quit it Malfoy!” You snap, turning to face him. He’d been yanking at a bit of your hair, for the past ten minutes, of defense against the dark arts class.

“Quiet in the back.” Umbridge says, with a sickeningly sweet giggle.

“I haven’t done anything.” Draco lies, slouching back into his chair.

Not even a full thirty seconds pass before he’s back at it again.

“I said stop.” You slam your fist down against the desk, drawing the attention of Dolores, a second time.

“Students will behave respectfully in my classroom.” The stout woman sneers, through the fake smile on her lips.

“Sorry professor,” Draco apologizes. “Y/N is acting out again and distracting me from the lesson.”

“Only because Malfoy was-“

“Ms. Y/L/N,” the woman cuts you off. “As I’ve told your friend Mr. Potter, we must not tell lies.”

“But I’m not lying!” You feel your cheeks flush with anger.

“Enough!” Umbridge shouts, causing you to flinch. “Detention after class.” Dolores insists.

Draco smirks at his handy work.

“Thanks a lot.” You grumble, under your breath.

————————————————————

When you come across Draco again, you don’t speak. Don’t even spare him a glance, as you move to your assigned desk. Preparing to begin work in potions class.

You reach across, to the shared supplies. Malfoy catching a glimpse of the top of your hand.

“What’s this?” Draco snarks, “scribbling down answers to pass the exam?”

“Leave it.” You scold, in a whisper, pulling your robes down to cover it.

“Are you alright?” He insists, his stormy eyes meeting yours intently.

“No,” you turn away, “you saw to that.”

————————————————————

Malfoy mulls it over during his next period, deciding that he’s not just going to let it go.

So when Draco finds you, headed back to your common room; he stops you. Dragging you toward an empty corridor.

“Get off me Malfoy.” You break free of him, prepared to storm off the in the opposite direction.

“Let me see your hand.” He demands, blocking the exit.

“Piss off,” You try to get past him, but Draco has other plans. Backing you up, against the wall.

Reaching down for your hand, he brings it into view. Stomach in knots when he reads, ‘I must not tell lies,’ carved into the soft flesh.

“You’re going to tell Dumbledore about this, right now.” Draco drops your hand back to your side.

“No, I’m not.” You argue, “why do you care anyway? You wanted this.”

“Because I care about you.” The boy confesses.

“Well you can just-“ You break off, doing a double take. “What?”

“I won’t repeat myself,” Draco scowls.

“Stop doing that!” You swat at him.

“Doing what?” His brows pull together in confusion. He doesn’t know how to do...this. In all honesty, the poor bloke has no idea what ‘this’ is.

“Letting your guard down and then tossing it back up in my face again. You’re exhausting.” You frown.

“Oh please.” Malfoy rolls his eyes, “I’m the one pulling out all the stops to get your attention.”

“You didn’t need to maim me to get my attention Malfoy. You already had it.” You tell him truthfully.

“You never said anything.” He accuses.

“In all fairness, I didn’t think you’d ever be interested. I’m not a pure blood, I don’t come from money, or high society, or-“

“I fancy you.” Draco says, his eyes flickering to your lips.

“Well...brilliant.” You stammer as he leans just a bit closer. His smell intoxicating.

Malfoy smirks, the sly one that drives you mental. “My sentiments exactly.”

[yan-twst]

Headcanons about first year boys (not yandere), when they notice that there is something wrong with MC and his relationship with one of the yandere dorm leaders? Like, if MC was always smiling, now she seems paranoid and doesn't smile anymore or does she cut off the friendship, being alone with her boyfriend, despite shaking when she is close to him?Would they do anything to help her or would they be quiet?

warnings: general yandere themes, drugging, mentions of violence & death

ace trappola

he'd definitely notice something very... off putting about riddle and his darling's relationship

he's always been close to riddle's darling: he knows that they used to be happier, more carefree... but months into them dating riddle, they're so quiet, almost afraid when riddle is in the room

he'll try to ask what's wrong- he worries a lot. but chances are riddle's darling won't say anything; after all, they know how impulsive and even violent at times ace can be...

and if ace found out about riddle's behaviour, he'd absolutely immediately try to beat the shit out of him- and riddle's darling knows that such a thing could easily end with ace suspended or dead. and as for them... the punishment riddle would give for daring tell someone about his behaviour... they shudder to think of it

still, ace is persistent. he might go up to riddle and tell the 2nd year to stop whatever it is he's doing. ace may not know what's going on, and he'll admit as much- but he doesn't trust riddle as far as he can throw him, not seeing how distressed his darling is

the only reason why ace gets away with just losing his magic after this is because riddle's darling sacrifices what was left of their freedom to save ace. they promise riddle to voluntarily isolate themselves if he just lets ace live... even if it means having to deal with riddle all alone

deuce spade

he's sick with worry over his friend. dating is meant to make people happy- and... they used to be so happy, so why do they never smile now...?

he thinks he's imagining how scared and tense riddle's darling looks when arm-in-arm with the redhead leader, but it's hard to brush it off. deuce knows how riddle's darling looks when scared, and they are definitely at least a little scared of their own boyfriend

he'll try to ask if riddle did anything, but all he'll get is "nothing's wrong, don't worry" every time, although he can see in his darling's eyes that they're practically begging him to stop asking

deuce, bless his soul, might even try to ask riddle. maybe it's a misunderstanding? he tells himself that to keep his anger at bay- he can't beat up riddle, he'd get expelled...!

riddle absolutely hates deuce sticking his nose in his business. he'll make the ordeal short and simple: as prefect, he could easily have deuce expelled. he wouldn't want to dissapoint his mom, would he...? so leave riddle and his darling alone

deuce has no choice but to comply. he can't risk being expelled- he'll just silently pray riddle and his darling are fine, that the fear in his friend's eyes isn't real...

jack howl

he isn't afraid to stand against leona- especially not if he believes the lion is hurting his partner

but he needs to confirm it- he asks again and again to leona's darling if the dorm leader is being abusive in any way. he doesn't believe the negative replies

but... when leona's darling practically begs him to not do anything- they beg, plead for him to not do anything rash, jack's fears are confirmed. leona is absolutely doing something to his darling

the wolf boy is pissed. he used to respect leona- but... he seethes. he knows leona's darling is a sweet person; they're someone he's proud to call his friends. so to think- to think leona would dare lay a hand on them...! to think that he could be using his position to keep his darling by his side, against their will- it makes jack so mad his fur stands on end

jack is loyal to his friends, although he knows he can't beat leona by himself. he'll probably try to get other savanaclaw students on his side; hell, maybe even a teacher- before confronting leona. he wants to rescue leona's darling: even if they say they're fine, he can practically smell their fear every time they walk next to leona- jack won't allow this to continue... even if going against the dorm leader might really be a death wish

epel felmier

his relationship with vil is already rocky; he sees the dorm leader as pushy, pompous, and self-important. he really doesn't get why his friend would get in a relationship with him

... and judging by how sad they seem now, epel worries vil's attitude got to them. but it seems to be more than just them being pressured by vil's standards- epel notices how at times they seem hazy and lost when with vil, and later seem to sober up and be terrified of the dorm leader

epel knows well enough how love potions work, and he's terrified when he realizes his friend is most likely being drugged by vil. they deny this, of course; vil's darling desperately tries to make epel not worry.

but it's no good. epel knows what he saw- and the short boy will try to confront the dorm leader face to face. he'll drop all the grace and poise that's been forced onto him, screaming and insulting vil while accusing him- until he's knocked out by rook

poor epel, he just wanted to help... vil won't kill him: heavens no, he has so much potential! however... there's a good chance that he'll begin to slip potions to make epel docile and forget what he saw

now vil has two beautiful, docile dolls! isn't it wonderful, what alchemy and knowledge in potions can do? besides, epel had been driving him insane; but now, epel is reduced to a shell of his former self, along with vil's darling

sebek zigvolt

oh, he knows. he knows malleus has his darling held down with an iron grip, he knows that he keeps them locked in a tower, under a sleeping curse most of the time

even if malleus' darling was his friend... he won't do anything about it. he can't- he's loyal to his master before anything.

it breaks his heart. he remembers how joyful and happy malleus' darling used to be; comparing them to now, so broken and scared... but he cannot do anything. he'll bite his tongue and keep working

the most painful moments are when he has to guard malleus' darling to make sure they don't run away. he can see the hurt in their face, knowing that he's allowing this to happen- but... he won't help. he can't

it's tragic, but he believes it's the way things must be. what malleus wants is final- and sebek knows this. as malleus' guard and loyal servant, he'll even be the one to secure the chains on his friend if he's ordered to, even if he has to fight back tears

[floral-and-fine]

When Light Enters the Wound part 1

Sandor Clegane x female reader

Title inspired by this quote: "The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”- Rumi

Summary: When The Hound is saved by brother Ray, he meets the woman who brought him back from the brink of death.

A/n: So I suddenly had the urge to write my first GOT fic, mostly because I'm thirsty for Sandor. Thank you @ewokiee​ and @liamakorn​ for all the help!

*not my gif

Cracking an eye open, Sandor was greeted by a heavenly sight, a lovely woman leaning over him as the sunlight shone upon her, resembling a divine glow. The sky above her was a brilliant blue and there was a gentle breeze that tickled his face.

Sandor felt fingertips delicately skim across his cheek and neck, her touch was so light and feathery that it caused goosebumps to appear in its wake.

Surely, he was hallucinating, his mind playing tricks on him as his body bled out, or perhaps it was a fever dream caused by infection. Either way, there was no way in hell any of this was real.

Not able to keep his eyes open any longer, he allowed sleep to take him. Sandor would consider himself a lucky man if he died in his sleep dreaming about a beautiful woman he’s never met, it was far better than the alternative, to continue rotting slowly on this godforsaken hill.

But when had he ever been lucky?

…

Sandor furrowed his brow as he opened his eyes, he had expected to either be dead or still outside waiting for a wild animal to finish him off, not in some tent.

Sitting up, he was shocked to find how good he felt, his body was well-rested, free of any aches and sores. Rolling his shoulders he noted that the gash that had been giving him such grief was gone and his leg had healed.

Immediately, he started patting the rest of himself down, lifting up his tunic, searching for any bruises or cuts, but there wasn’t a single scratch on him.

“What in the seven hells?” He muttered lowly. No healer in Westeros was this good or thorough, he should be dead…

His attention was drawn away from his thoughts, as the flap of the tent was drawn back and an older man with dark gray curls and sympathetic blue eyes stepped in.

The stranger chuckled to himself. “It’s nice to see you awake,” he commented, with a smile. “Honestly, I can’t believe you survived.”

Sandor grunted in response, “you and me both.”

The man sighed, crouching down. “I shouldn’t be as surprised as I am,” he explained, with a shrug. “But you were so close to death, that even I doubted she could save you.”

Sandor’s eyes narrowed. “She who? Was this the work of some fucking witch?” He spat.

The man didn’t seem phased by Sandor’s aggression or accusation, actually having found it more entertaining than anything else.

“I don’t think she’s a witch,” he answered truthfully. “But I’m no expert on the matter.”

“So if you’re not the one who healed me, then who are you?” Sandor interrogated.

“Name’s Ray,” the man introduced himself. “I’m the Septon here.”

Sandor rolled his eyes, “course you are.”

“My flock and I have decided to settle down here in these parts.”

“Where’s here?”

The Septon smiled and gestured to the exit.

Sandor cautiously got to his feet, standing upright without any pain. How the hell had he been fortunate enough for some magical healer to find and save him?

He grimaced at the thought, he wasn’t sure what to think of it, seemed too good to be true, so there had to be a catch, some bullshit about the Lord of Light or The Seven.

Ray took a deep breath, breathing in the fresh air as he took in the sight. “Beautiful isn’t it?”

Sandor hummed half-heartedly, it was nothing special just hills, trees, same old shit he’s seen for months now since leaving King’s Landing.

As they walked, Sandor noticed everyone hard at work, women cooking, men building, children running and playing.

These people were the decent and simple sort, not the kind of people Sandor was accustomed to. People in the city were always looking for a way to screw each other over as a way to gain more power or gold. He had grown accustomed to being wary of strangers, never letting his guard down in King's Landing or while he's been on his own, it was all part of surviving in this world.

As the flock noticed him approaching, they kept their distance but were polite enough.

“They’ll warm up to you if you give ‘em a chance,” Ray reassured. “Doubt they’ve ever seen anyone quite as intimidating as you.”

Sandor didn’t give two fucks, either way, they already treated him better than most people he’s encountered over his life.

Suddenly, Sandor stopped dead in his tracks as he spotted a familiar face, he couldn’t believe she was real.

The woman from his hallucinations was sitting alone, washing clothing in a small stream. Her face scrunched in concentration as she scrubbed the linen against the washboard.

The Septon followed Sandor’s gaze and smiled, “that’s her, the one who healed you.”

Sandor nodded, swallowing thickly, he couldn’t tear his eyes off of her.

“She’s a good woman, remarkably kind... and forgiving,” something about the Septon’s expression indicated that he knew rather well just how forgiving she was.

“When we found you, I thought you were already dead and was ready to put you in the ground,” Ray recounted. “But she got down on her knees, and pressed her ear to your chest, and was able to hear the faint beating of your heart...insisted that we take you in.”

Almost as if she could sense the Septon speaking of her, her head turned in their direction. Her eyes lit up as she recognized her patient up and about.

Forgetting about the laundry, she stood up and made her way towards them, stopping just a few feet from Sandor.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, her voice soft and warm, a tone unfamiliar to Sandor as people rarely spoke to him before in such a manner.

“Fine,” Sandor grunted, looking away.

“I’m glad,” she smiled. “Never seen anyone in such bad shape before.”

“What can I say, I’m a big man and tough to kill.”

She laughed lightly, a genuine smile tugging at her lips as she looked up at him. “Do you have a name stranger?”

Sandor looked down, worried to reveal his identity, his reputation as The Hound preceded him. These were decent people who took him in, and they may not be too fond of having a murderer amongst them.

“Sandor Clegane,” he finally answered.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” she tilted her head. “I’m y/n l/n.”

Y/n, the name suited her, or at least Sandor thought so.

“Well, I better finish the wash,” she muttered, looking back at the basket and clothes. She waved goodbye, her eyes meeting Sandor’s before she sauntered away.

“Still think she’s a witch?” Ray teased.

It was odd to Sandor, neither y/n nor Ray behaved like the religious sort he had encountered in King’s Landing or anywhere else for that matter. Most of the ones he met acted like they were holier than the gods themselves, looking down at the common folk for living their lives, for just existing.

The Hound quickly found his place amongst the community, Although he kept to himself, he worked harder than any other man and did whatever work was needed.

He was breathing heavily, swinging the ax over and over again. The dull thwack of the ax splitting the wood was all he could hear.

These hills were quiet and peaceful, perhaps Ray was right and there was something beautiful about this place. Sandor hadn’t given it much thought, but it seemed that in comparison the city was cruel and chaotic and smelled like piss.

Since sunrise, Sandor had been working without pause, not even stopping for lunch. Even while working he seemed to keep his distance from the others, and the only people who ever came around him were Ray and y/n.

Hearing a twig snap behind him, Sandor, out of habit, swung around with the ax in hand, prepared to attack but immediately lowered it when he saw that it was y/n standing there.

“For god sake woman, don’t you know better than to come sneaking up behind somebody?” He complained, gritting his teeth. “It’s a good way to get yourself killed.”

Most people would shrink away from Sandor, especially after such an outburst, but y/n didn’t even flinch, and he was grateful for it. The last thing he wanted was for her to stop coming around.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” she laughed.

Sandor scowled, “you didn’t scare me, but we might need to get you a bell or something, so I don’t kill you by accident.”

She shook her head and smiled at him. “I brought you some supper.”  She held out the plate towards him. “Figured you were due for a break.”

He nodded, setting the ax down before taking a seat on a nearby log. Y/n joined him, sitting by his side just a few inches of space between them.

Typically, Sandor wasn’t one for company, but he made an exception for her. She was different, didn’t avoid him, and always looked him in the eye, never shying away. He wasn’t used to this kind of treatment, especially not from a woman.

Sandor had yet to figure out why y/n even bothered with him at all, why she brought him his meals and kept him company in the evenings, or why she even bothered to save his life.

“It’s a nice day,” she wondered out loud, admiring the sky.

Sandor shrugged, focused more on his filling his belly than the weather.

“Suppose we better enjoy while we can,” she noted, soon everything would be covered in a blanket of snow, that would last for years.

She bit her lip, thinking about how she wouldn’t mind spending a long winter with Sandor, surely he’d be able to keep her warm during the long nights.

A couple of men came rushing towards y/n and Sandor. “Lady y/n come quick,” one of them started. “Efran fell while working on top of the sept.”

“It looks real bad,” the other added.

She immediately got to her feet, lifting her skirts to keep up as Sandor followed.

When they arrived, the group of people surrounding Efran parted allowing y/n through.

The poor man was lying on the ground groaning, his leg was twisted and bone poking through. She crouched down beside him, then looked up. “We’re going to need to set the leg first. Someone hold him still please.”

Sandor stood behind the group, peering over their heads, he was curious to see just what y/n was capable of.

The man howled in agony as they held him down and y/n straightened out his leg, popping the bone back into place. “That’s the worst of it,” she said, trying to comfort Efran.

Laying her hand upon his leg, y/n closed her eyes, Sandor could’ve sworn that she was glowing, a gentle light emanating from her body. Several moments passed, all eyes were on her and everything was silent.

As she opened her eyes and lifted her hand, the gash and bone had healed, looked as good as new.

“Take him to his tent so he can rest,” y/n instructed, dusting off her skirts as she got off the ground.

“So how are you able to… heal others?” Sandor asked bluntly, now that they were alone again.

“Not sure,” she said, folding her arms. “I’ve never really been the religious type, I don’t pray or even know who or what to worship for that matter… Ray says it’s proof that there’s something, but I don’t have any answers.”

Y/n noticed the rough conditions of his hands, they were rugged and calloused from before, but she could see new blisters forming and small cuts all over his knuckles, most likely the result of all his hard work.

Reaching out she took his hands in hers. Her thumbs gently caressing over his skin. A warmth began to spread from her touch to his skin.

“Good night, Sandor,” she murmured, before letting loose of his healed hands.

…

The morning was still young when the flock had gathered to listen to the Septon's sermon.

When Ray started to speak, it wasn’t what Sandor expected. It wasn’t a lecture on sin or how the gods were judging them.

The Septon’s story hit a little too close to home for Sandor. He had always believed that the only thing he was good for was killing. For the king and for that shit Joffrey, he had committed horrible atrocities, he murdered an innocent child for gods' sakes.

Sandor’s eyes flickered down to y/n who was sitting in front of him as he stood behind her. He wondered how much she knew about his past. Would she still be just as sweet and kind to him if she ever saw what he was capable of?

Ray’s attention turned to y/n then Sandor, the older man couldn’t help but notice how Sandor looked at the healer of his flock. He recognized almost immediately how much he and the Hound had in common, and knew well what inner turmoils the man was struggling with.

“I was hired as a sword for a pretty damn easy job,” he sighed continuing his story. “Just had to kill a woman. I didn’t care why didn’t even question it, Figured it was as good as done.”

Ray ran a hand through his hair. “On my travels to the small village she resided in, I was ambushed by some bandits, they robbed me blind and left me for dead out on that road. I thought this had to be it, they took my money, my horse, cut me open… and then things went dark until I woke up in a small hut.”

“The villagers had brought me to their healer, a young orphaned girl... when she introduced herself that’s when I realized that this girl was the one I was sent to kill.”

“You’d think I would’ve changed my mind right then, and leave her be,” the Septon shook his head a distant look in his eye. “But I had just lost everything, I needed that gold, or at least that’s the excuse I made.”

“I bided my time, gained the trust of the village before deciding to act,” Ray looked down at his clasped hands. “On that fateful night, I took a knife from the kitchen, and was fully prepared to slit her throat as she slept… but as I held it, pressing the sharp edge against her skin, it hit me about how I was taking something good from the world, and how goodness was so rare to find. Who knows how much goodness I had already taken from the world, what right did I have to take more?”

Y/n smiled at the Septon, encouraging him to finish their story.

“For the first time in my life, I wanted to do the same to bring some goodness into the world, no more death, no more senseless violence… that wasn’t going to be my life anymore,” Ray wandered over to y/n, patting her shoulder. “Since then, I’ve changed my ways, and with the time I’ve got left, I plan to use it for good.”

Just as the Septon's lesson started to sink in for Sandor, three men on horses approached.

Ray tried to appease them, but still, their presence made Sandor feel uneasy.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that these men were up to no good. Stumbling upon this community was like finding an unguarded vault, supplies, food, women, all for the taking.

Y/n joined Ray, a kind smile on her face as she tried to reason with them as well.

It didn’t escape Sandor’s attention how the man in the yellow coat was eyeing y/n, the stranger's intentions were anything but good.

Sandor’s fists clenched as they made eye contact, he should grab an ax or something and take care of them now.

But Ray seemed to urge against it.

“Do you really think they’ll come back?” Y/n asked once the three strangers had left.

Sandor’s shoulders slumped, “Aye, to them this is easy pickings… unarmed common folk with plenty of supplies and food.”

Y/n wrung her hands nervously. “I see,” she mumbled, looking back at the tents, these were her friends, her family, this was meant to be a safe haven. For the last decade or so, she and Ray had worked hard towards their goal, they were so close to it now.

Sighing, Sandor laid a hand over both of hers, “I’ll do what I can… just stay with me.”

She nodded, taking in a deep breath, “you’re a good man, Sandor.”

He shook his head, “I’m no such thing.”

“It’s a shame you don’t see it,” she said softly, now cradling his large hand in both of hers. “When I spotted you on that hill I saw so much potential, even covered in all that blood and dirt… the world needs you Sandor Clegane.”

For the rest of the day, y/n stayed by Sandor’s side, watching him work and helping when she could.

Deep down Sandor hoped his instincts were wrong, that those men would simply move on but when a shrill scream shattered the peaceful silence, he already knew it was too late.

Rage, as Sandor passed body after body, all he felt was rage. This community hadn’t done anything to deserve being slaughtered like this. They were innocent people, just trying to live their lives and do some good for the world. The monsters hadn’t spared anyone, not even the children.

This once-peaceful place, the place he was considering to call home, had now been desecrated by a massacre, completely destroyed.

‘Nowhere is safe.’ This tragedy solidified these words in his heart.

Sandor came to halt when the Septon came into view, feet dangling in the air as his body swung from the skeleton of the unfinished sept.

Y/n stumbled beside him, her sight blurred by tears, but it was her heart-wrenching cry when she saw the Septon that pulled Sandor from his stupor.

She fell to her knees, face twisted in anguish as she wailed, she had never seen such horrors in her life.

Grabbing her by the arm, Sandor yanked her to him, blocking her view of all the horrors that surrounded them, and wrapped his arms securely around her.

She buried her face against his chest as he held her close. Her fingers digging into his shoulders, as she clutched him as tightly, all the strength in her legs had given out.

As he comforted her, her pain only fueled his anger further, Sandor spotted an ax nearby, those fuckers were going to pay. He was going to hack them all to pieces.

He pulled away from her, his hands cupping her face, “we’re going after them, all of them.”

Stray tears fell from Y/n’s eyes and slid over Sandor’s hands. “Promise?” She whispered.

...

[fuckingfinwions]

About the guards: Maedhros chose people who he knew wouldn’t make a fuss about Fingon’s treatment, so in a way, yes, he did select guards with sadistic impulses, though he wouldn’t put it that way. He’d say he chose reliable people. They are pissed because 1) Fingon came for Maedhros but no one came for them, 2) Maedhros killed their friend because Fingon lied about him. Neither is exactly Fingon’s fault, but who cares?

Maedhros would never admit it, but sometimes he pretends not to notice the unnecessary cruelty of the guards because then he can appear kinder to Fingon and condition him to develop a dependency from Maedhros (poor Fingon does need to google how not to develop Stockholm Syndrome). Fingon is smart enough to realize this, but it doesn’t help him at all. Not when he’s lying frozen and in pain after a rough treatment from the guards, who tell Maedhros that Fingon was misbehaving and that’s why they did that, and Fingon is terrified that Maedhros will punish him too as he usually does and repeats over and over again that he didn’t do it, then Maedhros tells him ‘I know’, treats his wounds, wraps him up in warm furs and blankets and holds him in a way he knows makes Fingon feel comforted and safe. (And then fucks him gently, which Fingon doesn’t want, of course, but also doesn’t protest because he’s afraid to anger Maedhros and end the pretense of kindness.)

Things will definitely keep getting worse for Fingon. After another escape attempt, Maedhros may decide that Fingon can live with a broken leg or two. If he tries to hit Maedhros or to fight back, he will have a broken finger, then two, then his hand may be broken. If he’s strong enough to fight, maybe he’s getting more food and water than he needs? Maybe he has no need to lie down when Maedhros isn’t there to fuck him and instead should be chained to the wall the whole time? If only he was good, Maedhros would be kinder to him, but Fingon is doing this all to himself by not obeying Maedhros’s every whim and not being grateful enough that Maedhros treats him the way he does. Maedhros would have killed for someone to treat him the way he treats Fingon when he was Morgoth’s prisoner. Clearly, Fingon is just spoiled.

I imagine him finally escaping and running through wilderness, covered in nothing but a blanket, constantly terrified that he will be found and dragged back again. Then he finally reaches Dorthonion, where he’s treated like a person, where he gets to wear clothes and sleep in a warm bed for the first time in decades. But he still doesn’t feel safe, he still feels like any minute the door will open and Maedhros will come in. And then imagine the huge relief he feels when he finally sees his father.

Omg, Fingon thinking that Fingolfin might send him back! Ouch, that’s painful! I don’t think Fingolfin would ever do that, but realistically he might be forced to let Maedhros go unpunished because they still have Morgoth to fight and he can’t afford to lose a huge chunk of his forces. So they can’t even tell anyone what Maedhros has done because it would still create a divide. So what are they going to do? The most believable version is that Fingon has been captured by Morgoth and escaped, but then he is going to be distrusted and ostracized as a former thrall. People are going to demand to remove him from the line of succession, maybe even lock him up. Fingolfin won’t do it, but the threat is still there.

Maedhros would have to sit at war councils and Fingon would have to bear his presence and pretend (probably very badly) everything’s fine. And if Maedhros slips into his chamber one night, Fingon can’t make a fuss, he doesn’t want to divide the Noldor again, does he? Though Fingolfin probably wouldn’t hold back from killing Maedhros this time if he knew he raped his son under his own roof. (A slightly darker and more coldly pragmatic Fingolfin would tell Fingon to endure it for the sake of the Noldor. He isn’t going to send Fingon back to Maedhros, so Fingon can do him a favor and shut up and take it once in a while.)

You’re right, Fingon isn’t the type to stay in his place while others are fighting for him, so he might very well be at the siege of Himring. Him trapped in the fortress with Maedhros is the stuff of nightmares! He will be very well-protected, of course, Fingolfin won’t want him alone even for a second, but he would still feel exposed and Maedhros would still try to corner him alone.

Maedhros’s brothers would certainly come to his aid against Fingolfin. Even if they found out what Maedhros did, they would at best be like ‘what the fuck, man, that’s fucked up’, but still support him.

Outofangband’s dark Turgon AU sounds super interesting. He already dislikes the Feanorians in canon, make him slightly darker and he could do monstrous things to them.

Thank you so much for letting me ramble. If you want me to stop, just tell me and I will. No hard feelings.

This is just amazing, nonny. I've been trying all week to think of as good a reply as it deserves.

I'm not surprised that selecting for guards who will keep a sex slave secret also ends up selecting sadistic assholes. Them using Fingon's accusation and the other guard's death as a justification for their actions (including possibly retroactively, I doubt they were kind before that) is great.

Oh wow, the list of "privileges" Maedhros thinks Fingon can do without. Presumably he'll let Fingon's leg heal, if Fingon behaves. If Fingon doesn't behave, I wonder if he could be tied up such that his leg heals crooked and he can't run fast. (Downside: that would make him less pretty.)

The thing about not needing so much energy if he's going to use it to fight is also great. Maybe he's fed just enough to stay alive most days. But when the guards see a rider approaching from Himring, that's their cue to give Fingon a bit more food, especially simple carbs that will give him energy quickly. That way he can be more "enthusiastic" during sex rather than just lying there limply. (To be clear, the guards aren't hiding their neglect from Maedhros. He totally ordered them to do this.) Most days though, he has just enough energy to stay upright, and not choke in his collar that's chained to the wall. (Maedhros learned the lesson from his own rescue, of don't chain them by a body part whose loss is survivable.)

On the days Maedhros visits, Fingon has enough energy to move around, and to talk, and to think about something other than how hungry he is. Maedhros has him in a bed, with soft blankets, and cuddles him so they're both warm. It's the best part of Fingon's - week? month? he has no way of keeping track of days - even with the unwanted sex. Fingon knows it's rape, but Maedhros is gentle, and makes sure it's pleasurable for them both, and over time such a harsh word doesn't seem to fit.

The escape! Traveling for miles wrapped in nothing but a blanket, his feet getting torn up, only focused on that he needs to go West. And wow, yeah, not feeling safe until he sees his father, and he can relax and know that someone will take care of him and mean it this time.

Also, all the healers who have the most expertise with injuries from captivity are the ones who helped when Maedhros was rescued. If they get the "escaped from Morgoth" story, they might reassure Fingon with telling him how his friend Maedhros was able to make a full recovery, isn't that good? That Fingon will be so physically strong? (arms pinning him down, a hand around his throat-) That Fingon is no more corrupted than Maedhros is?

I bet after the former thrall story gets out, someone sympathetic to Fingon pulls him aside after a court session. "I obviously don't believe the rumors about you being controlled. But they might die down if you let town for a while, let everyone find something new to gossip about. They say Himring welcomes former thralls, you wouldn't have to deal with all this suspicion there." Fingon just barely avoids vomiting at the suggestion.

I think Maedhros would be too smart to rape Fingon under Fingolfin's roof? He might act like they just had an argument and are on a break, but he wouldn't physically force Fingon when he knows Fingon could get away. He wouldn't be above bribing one of the servants to let him in to Fingon's room for a private discussion though, and kissing Fingon while Fingon is still too shocked to react. (although that coldly pragmatic Fingolfin would be so terrible for Fingon. Maybe he heard that Fingon had been raped in his room, and said "You can move to a different room if you think that will keep him from finding you, but please come up with a good excuse for why you're doing so."

I'm picturing Fingolfin and Fingon going to attack Maedhros. Then they're attacked by Morogth and has to retreat into Himring. Things are tense, but Fingolfin makes it clear to Fingon that any judgement against Maedhros is only delayed, not avoided.

Then word comes that there's the banners of another elven host on the far side of the besieging orcs. And it's Himlad, with Clegorm and Curufin.

Fingolfin stops talking about bringing Maedhros to justice. He still reassures Fingon that he'll be safe, Fingolin won't let anyone touch him, there's guards loyal only to Fingolfin on his door at all times. They'll be able to leave Himring soon, and Fingon will never have to see Maedhros again, or come back to this corrupted place.

But they both know that killing Maedhros is not likely to happen, no matter how much he deserves it.

[cozycryptidcorner]

The Mad Prince, Chapter 9

Always handle yourself with grace and poise, the matchmaker rep always told you, and you remember that exact quote as your mouth hits the floor. You are so very close to shouting ” what,” but by some deity’s grace, you manage to say it in a tone that doesn’t suggest you’re going to march back down and kill the prince with your bare hands.

“Did no one tell you?” The vice marshal clicks his tongue in such transparently false sympathy.

“Of-” you try to push down the bristles, taking in a deeper breath, “of course I’ve been told! I’m just wondering what kind of insignificant dick you’re compensating for with that piss poor attitude you’ve had since I arrived.” There it is, a few weeks’ worth of stress and anger bubbling over the surface. You knew that this would happen eventually, but you suppose you weren’t fully prepared to be tipped over the edge so goddamn early.

Judging by the vice-marshal’s expression, though, he’s clearly not used to being spoken to in that manner, because his entire face goes dark, and his hand raises ever so slightly as though preparing to strike you. “The human body is so much weaker than a drow’s, so much easier to break. What makes you think that you’ll survive one rotation?”

Your guard must have done something because you don’t think the vice-marshal would wince back at your death glare, especially since your prior reputation has been carefully scrubbed clean from the records. With a firm, calm hand, on your shoulder, Elias steers you away almost roughly, apologizing all the while for the sudden departure. You can feel through his pulse that he’s nervous. Or maybe annoyed. You don’t know enough about him to put a specific read yet. Quickly, he has you in the other lift, scanning his pass for permission to enter the servant’s quarters.

“You’re scheming.” Elias surprises you by speaking first after a few moments of stony silence.

Do you blame me? you don’t say. If only you were sure he was just making a casual remark, and not accusing you of being a potential downfall to the royal family. Maybe you shouldn’t sell yourself that high, though.

“I imagine that it must be very different than what you are used to.” Elias responds, glancing in your direction for just a brief moment.

“So very different, yeah.” Your teeth are tightly gritted together, because that’s a severe understatement.

After another moment of awkward quiet. “We both know there is going to be a confrontation,” Elias says, staring straight ahead, “but all I request is that you go easy on him. He… means well.”

“Let’s have a fun little exercise of the imagination,” you say, instead of agreeing, “and let’s say that you get matched with….” You try to get your brain to actually think of some high-level officer, “let’s also say you get matched with one of the few soldiers who are trained in specifically killing driders. We call them the suicide squads, because… um, you get the idea.”

“I don’t think-”

“Let me finish,” you almost snap. “Let’s say this one you get matched with is alright when it comes to you for the most part, but there’s this underlying threat that all of her peers are leaning over you, pressuring her to send your body back over the line in pieces. Which doesn’t even take into account how I’m sure the Royal family is eager to have you feed them information, which you might be able to ignore so long as they don’t have anything to hold over your head, like family, or friends, or-” a criminal background “like… whatever. Now on top of all that, your match’s family is really getting under your skin, as in they want you dead, so what now? You’re stranded in enemy territory, and you’re not sure if you can just say ‘I want to go home’ because something about her makes you wonder if she’s three slights away from strangling you with her bare hands.”

Elias is silent for a moment, then, “I don’t think the prince would-”

” Then you find out that she was serious with someone before who mysteriously died an unknown amount of time ago.”

“I can answer that for you,” Elias says wearily, “two years ago. Her name was Iole.”

“And how did she die?” You ask, trying to tamper down the anger. It doesn’t work, there’s a fuzzy heat fizzling in your chest, like static.

“Her heart gave out,” he says, glancing self-consciously over to the guard, who hasn’t even glanced in your direction.

“Spontaneously?” Because that’s… so suspicious.

“It’s still under official investigation, one that I am not fully privy to.” Elias lets out a muted sigh, tugging at the ends of his sleeves. “However, there are rumors.”

“How interesting,” you spit out through gritted teeth, “why wasn’t I told?”

“I don’t- that is, I didn’t realize that you were not.”

A lie. One that you can sense even through all that careful dignitary training. You let the elevator continue on for a few more tense, quiet moments before saying, “where’s the ship.”

“Where’s what ship? The official matchmaker ship you arrived on?”

“Yes, clearly,” you’re impatient and tense, there’s a weird, pinching feeling in your stomach, “is it in the original place where it was parked? Or did you move it somewhere else?”

He’s silently debating, you can tell, about the benefits versus the risks of telling you. Or even if he’d be able to get away with a lie, you can see it in his eyes. To his credit, he probably realizes that anything besides the truth will probably come to bite him later (namely you. You would bite him later if he lies), so he lets out a sigh that’s probably meant to carefully hide his frustration. “The ship you arrived in is in the same docking bay, though it has not been refueled or maintained at all.”

The doors open with a ping, and you notice a few drow servants lingering in the hallways, so you bite the question down sullenly, crossing your arms over your chest as you walk. Every step towards the prince’s wing is spent deciding how you’re going to speak to him about this. Give him the benefit of the doubt? Go in with all guns blazing? What would he even say, you wonder, once you lay the cards on the table? Would he try to be reasonable? Would he completely lose it and finally kill you? A shiver runs down your spine at the idea of him looking at you the way he stared at those servants. Cold. Bitter. Without any of the timid tenderness he’s shown.

You’re here.

“Why don’t you let me step in first, at least to prepare him for the situation?” Elias offers, looking like he is well aware of the careful calculations that must be done to walk on all those eggshells.

“Um… no, I’m good,” you say, opening the door with a bit more attitude than you meant to. You hear Elias murmur something to the guard as you enter, though only he follows. Aksanos is where you expected him to be, at his desk, working over a large datapad, of which he clears the contents of as you walk over, setting your hands flat on either side of his workspace.

“Did your doctor’s appointment go well?” He asks, his brow furrowing at your aggression.

“Oh, it went swimmingly, thanks for asking.” Your brain is racing, and you’re trying to figure out if you’d like Elias here or absent, or if it would even make any difference. “Say, babe, I think it’s about time we have us a little super serious conversation that we’ve both been putting off.”

He looks over your shoulder at Elias, who probably is emitting a less than thrilled expression at the moment. Then he glances back at you, with a face that’s difficult for you to gauge the emotions portrayed, but he nods, giving Elias a gesture of dismissal. Once the two of you are alone, the door shut and locked firmly against anyone who might interlope, he folds his hands over each other and says, “what is this about, then?”

” Well,” you say, feeling a sense of hysteria bubbling in the back of your throat, “I was being escorted back from my doctor’s appointment- she’s absolutely lovely, by the way, especially with letting me know ahead of time that your mom, who, if you remember, I have yet to meet, wants the very invasive genetic compatibility test done whether I’m willing to consent or not- when I had a little run-in with the vice-marshal.”

He looks like he’s ready to say something, so you raise your hand to let him know that he doesn’t get a turn to talk until you’ve finished your piece.

“So I had such a fun little conversation with him. Turns out, can you even believe it, that you apparently had um, a fiance before I came into the picture? And she died under mysterious circumstances?” You cross your arms tightly around your chest, though you don’t let up on the Best Customer Service Voice, because grossly pretending like everything’s okay is the only thing that’s keeping you from completely losing your shit.

Again, he opens his mouth, his eyes narrowing slightly, but you still have more on your plate to say to him.

“The vice-marshal,” he finally says, “is not one to listen to when it comes to rumors.” It takes you a hot minute to realize that he’s angry because he’s not showing the same kind of dictatorial rage that you’ve witnessed with anyone else. His voice is hard, stony, but not with the same cold detachment he uses with his servants… When he opens his mouth to speak, his fangs seem to be a tad more protruding than when he is otherwise relaxed.

You used to think that the moment he gets enraged would be the moment it’s game over for you, so even though you’re still fucking over this, you try to turn the dial a bit. “So it’s not true, then? You weren’t about to marry someone else before she was killed?”

He’s silent a moment before relenting. “No, it is true. Iole and I… it was… it was a radical union, certainly, because of her lowblood status, but…” he takes a deep breath, “yes. I was going to marry her.”

“Low-blood status,” you need him to clarify.

There is a long, drawn-out moment of hesitation, and then he says, “she was a drow.”

“And this is just information that you decided wasn’t pertinent for me to know? Do you just casually put the people you know in mortal danger?” He does, though, you’ve forgotten who you’ve been talking to. Blinded by the gentle gestures and sweet conversation, the stories of his sadistic nature slowly melted away until your guard was so low someone would have to dig to set off any warning bells. Of course, you knew you were walking into danger when you finally accepted the calling, but you didn’t realize that there’s someone out there that would go far enough to try assassination.

“I informed the Starward Matchmakers™ of the threat, and I thought they would pass it on to you,” he says, too steadily for your liking. As if that’s a valid excuse.

“That’s convenient for you.”

“I’m sorry that retelling the story of how I found the love of my life, dead, isn’t something I enjoy speaking of often.” His voice finally raises, and you feel a spike of adrenaline burst through your system.

“But you didn’t even think that this might be information that I would need to know, even after someone tried to fucking kill me?”

“I did not think it would go this far,” he snarls, “but who is to say that the assassination attempt falls under our jurisdiction? You have plenty of your own enemies, from what I understand of your own conveniently unmentioned past.”

You’re so angry you’re shaking, is he seriously going to bring up your work as a valid excuse for his shitty behavior? But still, even in your burning rage, you don’t want to give him any more than you have to. “I’ve never put anyone not willing in the direct line of fire, and that includes knowing the risks involved.”

He stands to his full height, and you find yourself taking a step back instinctually, eyes quickly roaming the immediate area for any weapons that you might be able to use against him. As soon as your eyes fall onto a pen on his desk, then back at him, his entire demeanor changes, and he settles back down, placing his head in his hands. It takes you a minute of the ensuing silence to realize that you’re still trembling, both with adrenaline and anger. But you’re also bristled, tense, fully prepared to fight for your life. You don’t move the step back closer, because something inside you says he might still try to wring your delicately human neck.

“I loved her,” he says, finally. “I really… I really, truly did. I thought that our union would work for the benefit of all castes.”

You stay decidedly silent.

“And I didn’t think it would end that way.”

You don’t want to hear this, you don’t want to see him speak so forlornly about a lover from the past, either. You don’t care, though, you don’t, and you’re very quick to squish that thought back down to a place you never intend on revisiting. There’s a soft thrumming in the back of your head again, there’s nothing more you’d like to do than to lay down.

“I told my mother I would marry again, but on my own terms.” He sets his hands back down on the desk, looking up at you with those glassy, emotionless eyes. “The best possible match, scientifically proven, the universe’s union, etcetera, you know the advertisement they put out.”

You swallow thickly.

“And the deal was that if I matched with no one, then that was it. I could do as I please, and she would leave me be. I made the deal because I was so, so certain that Iole was my soulmate. Some people don’t get matched, you know. People whose soulmates just don’t have the money to put into the program, or people whose soulmates are dead. I thought I would be the latter. I thought this would buy me more time. And it did, at first. No one in the database matched with me… until you.”

Until you drunkenly stumbled out of a bar with someone, neon lights glittering your vision, bitter, angry, sullen, and reckless. You take a deep, steadying breath, holding your hand out to stop him from saying whatever it is that he plans on saying next. “Losing someone close to you…” your chest tightens, but you continue, “it fucking sucks. I get it, I really do, but that doesn’t give you a pass from any of the consequences at hand.” So I know whether or not to cut my losses and run.

He doesn’t react negatively, only… like he’s defeated. His torso slumps forward, resting his chin on one of his hands, staring blankly at the empty screen on the desk. “And… and what of your past relationships? Do I get to learn about the romances of a rogue pilot?”

Again, there’s a spike of anger churning in your blood. “Mindless, random hookups don’t hold a goddamn candle to a person you plan on marrying and you know it.”

“Do I?” He asks, getting angry again, but doesn’t try threatening you with his size. Instead, he stays carefully still, his hands folded on the desk. “How many people have you ever slept with? Do you even know the number?”

“Does it even matter? Do my past relationships somehow make me less of a person?”

He makes a face, then, and you can see, yes, he does think that way.

You bristle immediately, arms crossing over your chest again, and you take in a deep, shaking breath. The judgment is what gets to you, just how he thinks he can categorize you in some kind of box. “I want to go home.”

Panic, at least, you think the way he tenses is because of some kind of panic. You hope it’s panic. His voice, at least, is a bit tighter and more strained than before. “That might not be the best step to take at this moment.”

“I think that it’s the best step for me to take actually, because I really don’t like it here.” And I’m not sure if I like you, either.

After a moment of staring at you, probably gauging just how serious that statement is, he rubs his jaw, looking back down to the desk. There’s a pinch of fear in your system because he could just… keep you here. You have no power, and he knows this, so in the few moments of deathly silence, you feel him thinking about it. Finally, he says, “let’s… let’s not be so hasty with such decisions.”

“Hasty? What about this is being hasty?” The muscles in your arm tighten in the expectation of a physical fight. “I’ve been here for a while, and we aren’t getting along, so maybe it’s time for us to part ways.”

“That is the exact definition of hasty, you’ve only been here for what, a few weeks? How long have you managed to hold onto a single romantic relationship for?”

You want to stomp your foot back down on the ground. “That has absolutely nothing to do with me wanting to leave.”

“I think it does.” Aksanos taps his fingers on the desk. “Have you ever been in a committed relationship?”

Thinking about your committed business relationships, you nod, angrily.

“Who?” He asks, and at your weak shrug, he lets out a sigh. Both of you are completely silent, staring at each other, daring the other to break the quiet first. Then, after a few moments, he lets out another huff of breath and leans back. “I’ll have Elias send you a full report on your android assistant directly.”

“I want to leave.”

“I know.” He finally looks you in the eye again. “May I convince you to at least wait until your assistant is back online?”

“Do I even have a choice?” You ask sullenly, a direct challenge to his final authority.

“You do,” he says, voice clearly strained.

You pause, then, almost too scared to test it out. Still, you mull the idea over, cutting your losses, making a run for it. Sure, the space marines will be undoubtedly pissed, but you’ve had to lay low before. It’s not anything new. Maybe you’d even be able to open a business in this territory, because surely no one would dare raise a finger on the keias’ soulmate, even if the two of you can’t fucking stand each other. Slowly, you uncross your arms and put them on your hips, trying to unlock your jaw from the straining grit you’ve put in for the argument.

Through your quiet contemplation, there’s a flicker of… tightness? Stress? On his face, and you think it might because he’s afraid that you’re going to fuck right off into the wild unknown and never speak to him again. You’d be lying if you said that that specific scenario didn’t appeal to you in the slightest, because it does. But there’s something else missing from that vision, you don’t know what, so you let out an angry, frustrated breath. “I’ll think it over.”

He relaxes slightly, but you aren’t going to let him think of this as a victory.

“This isn’t a yes or a no, this is an I’ll think about it.” You need a goddamn nap. “Risking my life for the mythical perfect love isn’t fucking worth it, especially if I’m not being respected.”

“Respected? How have you not been respected? You’ve been honored as one of us since you stepped foot off the ship.”

“Not being forthright about information is basically lying!” You throw your hands up in frustration. “You don’t even understand what I’m saying! You’re being so fucking dismissive, and I want to leave because I don’t feel safe, even with all the security modifications you’ve made.”

“The servants are to give you whatever-”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” You’re shaking again, sure your face is bright red in anger.

He’s quiet once more, staring blankly at the wall behind you. “Would… would you like to invite someone you trust to stay with you, in the absence of your assistant?”

Who would you even invite, really? Who do you trust enough to keep their heads low and follow your every direction with no ulterior motives? Well, besides yourself? Your ship, maybe. But definitely not anyone you know. “Have the Starward Matchmakers™ been informed of their personnel malfunction?”

“Not… specifically, no.”

You almost facepalm, but that’s fair, you guess. “It would look remarkably suspicious if I invited someone over without communicating with the main hub first?”

“Does it even matter?” He asks, almost impatiently.

He still doesn’t know. And you plan on keeping it that way. So, carefully, you think about a way you can phrase an answer without planting any suspicion. “I’m just saying, sending for someone when the android assistant is offline with no specific communications with her manufacturers is going to look extremely suspicious. I guess it won’t affect you in any way, so I guess you wouldn’t care.” It would look bad for you, though.

If he had irises t, you’re certain that the prince would be rolling them now. “Fine. I’ll have Elias get in contact with the Starward Matchmakers™ headquarters. Are you certain that there is no one you would like to fetch while they work out what happened?”

The Starward Matchmakers™ are just going to send another one of their android assistants. Do you really want a line going straight to the CEOs who have far too many stakes in this working out than otherwise? Actually, the idea is rather appealing. Maybe if you had someone from a secondary faction, someone outside of the Starward Matchmakers™, but still backed by enough authority to walk right over a faceless but powerful corporation. Best case scenario, the two will just but heads and get nothing done, which leaves you to figure out how best to proceed.

“I guess,” you say, trying to sound noncommittal, “if she wants to come, then I’d like her to be here.”

“Who?” You see he’s already prepping something on his keyboard.

“Clementine Montague.”