#at least until he can find a way to get those who are exploiting others taken care of

[beetlethebug]

Me in chap 4 of my chilaios angst fic giving chilchuck a surrogate daughter for like 3 paragraphs: ah yes, a little treat for our local girldad

[scary-grace]

Here is a follow-up to the Hana Lives AU, in honor of White Day (because technically it's still White Day in my time zone!).

secret admirer

You have a crush on your best friend's little brother, and you don't know how to handle it -- except that donating your life-force to your crush's dog is probably the wrong thing to do.

You’ve been lying about your quirk for as long as you can remember, because you were ordered to. Your quirk emerged when you were three or so, and at first, everyone thought you were a healer. Why else would everyone who hugged you feel better afterwards, even if you came away tired and drained? It wasn’t until you were five that the true nature of your quirk was revealed. Your quirk allows you to transfer portions of your life-force from yourself to another living being, extending their life by the same measure that you’ve shortened your own. The doctors estimated that you lost close to a decade before your quirk was properly identified.

You’d be more okay with that if you knew how long you were working with in the first place, but there’s no way to measure it. The government has a thousand and one ways to classify quirks, and yours falls into a very specific category — exploitable by others, dangerous to you. Quirks in that category are erased from all but the most classified documents and replaced with harmless ones, typically aligned to the person’s interests or strengths. That’s how you wound up with ‘baking’ as your quirk. It was something you were already getting good at, because you needed a way to show people you loved them without touching them.

One side effect of your quirk getting memory-holed is that you never got quirk-counseling that would actually help. You don’t know what causes your quirk to activate. You don’t have any control. All you know is that sometimes it’s there and sometimes it’s not, and that nobody else can ever find out that it’s there at all.

“Tenko asked when you’re coming over again,” Hana says, the Monday after you all got together to study at her house. “I think he wants to ask you to make more treats for Mon.”

“I was going to do that anyway,” you say, trying not to do something silly like blush or faint. “Did he go through them already?”

“No, but look at this.” Hana takes out her phone, opens her text conversation with her brother, and scrolls past eighteen texts in a row to a video clip. “Those treats must be magic or something. Mon hasn’t done real zoomies in years.”

You weren’t sure how far the life-force you gave Mon would go, but when it comes to human life-force and dogs, a little apparently goes a long way. Mon is zipping around through the Shimuras’ living room, hopping up on the couches and taking flying leaps off the armrests, and in the background, Tenko is laughing so hard that he can’t hold the camera steady. You really, really like Tenko’s laughter. Hearing it brings butterflies to your stomach and a flush to your cheeks.

“You know,” Hana says, glancing sideways at you, “it’s nice that you’re okay about Tenko and Mon. People keep saying he’s weird for being so obsessed with his dog.”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” you say at once. “It’s — nice. How much he loves him.”

“Mon’s so old now,” Hana says quietly. “My mom is worried about what’s going to happen to Tenko when he dies. I’m worried, too. So, um — if you are putting some kind of magic in those treats —“

“I’ll keep it up,” you say. “Send me that video if you want to. It’s really cute.”

Hana sends it to you, and you watch it at least once a day, even though listening to Tenko’s laughter makes you a little giddy. Knowing Mon feels good enough to run is worth what you gave up. You never really doubted that it was, but it’s nice to have the reminder.

But you won’t have time to go over to the Shimuras’ house any time soon. White Day is coming up, and the custom baked goods you do on the side are being ordered at an alarming rate — and even though your supposed quirk is baking, not chocolate-making, you keep getting orders for chocolates anyway. Most people just want standard truffles with specific flavors. One person is insane.

“A box of chocolates in a chocolate box? Do I look like the chocolate guy on TikTok to you?”

“You look like you need money,” Shindo says, and you glare at him. “Can you do it or not?”

You glance at the makeshift order form he just handed you. He’s a jerk, but he drew you a diagram of what he wants, which means you can give him an answer. “I can do it, but it’s gonna cost you.”

“How much?” Shindo’s eyebrows go up when you name the figure, but he whips out his phone and Venmos you anyway. “Monday morning. It had better be ready by then.”

“Monday morning.” You sigh and kiss the remainder of your weekend goodbye. At least you’re making money.

At least you’re making money, but it comes back to bite you later. “Studying at my house on Sunday,” Hana says, and your heart sinks. “Can you come over?”

You shake your head. “I have all my orders to do —“

“I thought you said Sunday was your day off.”

“It was going to be, but then I got this order from Shindo —“ You show it to her and see her eyes widen. “It’s going to take all day.”

“You can really make something like that? Wow.” Hana stares at it for a moment longer. “Okay, what if we come over to your place? We’ll just hang out and study — and talk to you if you want to be distracted — or help — and you can study with us while you’re waiting for stuff to cool or dry or whatever. What do you think?”

“That would be okay,” you say hesitantly. You’re kind of embarrassed at the thought of your friends seeing you shred your kitchen, but it would be nice to have company. “Come over around noon?”

“You got it.” Hana grins at you. “It’ll be fun, I swear!”

It seems like a good idea at first, but by Sunday morning, it’s worn off, because you remembered which quirk you’re supposed to have. Baking. Sure, making chocolates in a chocolate box isn’t exactly baking, but it’s adjacent, and because it’s your quirk, you’re supposed to be effortlessly good at it. You aren’t going to be effortlessly good at it. It’s going to be a mess, and your friends are going to see, and they’re going to have questions about whether your quirk is really baking after all.

The doorbell rings, and you rinse your hands quickly and hurry to open it without taking off your apron. “Hi, Hana. Yue and Manami aren’t here yet, but —“

You open the door the rest of the way and break off, puzzled. Puzzled changes fast into shocked, because Hana’s not alone on your front step. Tenko’s standing next to her, and he’s holding Mon. You can barely see his face behind Mon’s ears, but you hear his raspy voice loud and clear. “Hi.”

“I didn’t invite Yue and Manami,” Hana says, “so unless you did, this is we.”

You’re too shocked to say anything. Hana’s confidence falters ever so slightly. “Is that okay?”

“Um — yes. Yes! That’s totally fine!” You give up on trying to cover your surprise. “Come in.”

Hana’s been to your place before, enough that she doesn’t have a problem taking off her shoes and making herself comfortable, but Tenko hesitates in the doorway, trying to pry off his shoes while still juggling Mon. “You can put him down. It’s okay,” you say. Tenko sets Mon down and drops his leash, and Mon runs off to explore. “Um, hi.”

“You couldn’t come over, so we decided to come and see you,” Tenko says. He’s really focused on untying his shoes. He always wears the same red sneakers, and the same pair of gloves. “Hana says you bake stuff and sell it. I can pay for more treats for Mon.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you say hastily. Tenko looks up at you. “Those are easy to make, and not expensive — I mean, I used quality ingredients, Mon deserves the best — but they don’t take much time, so it’s not really —“

“But if everybody else has to pay —“

“Not my friends.”

Tenko’s eyes widen. He looks cute when he’s surprised, but then again, you think he looks cute all the time. “I thought you were just Hana’s friend. We’re friends, too?”

“Of course,” you say. A cautious smile crosses Tenko’s face, and a dozen follow-ups occur to you — explaining why, explaining that it’s not just because of Hana or Mon, admitting that you’d be more than friends if he wanted to. But before you can say a word, a timer starts going off in the kitchen. You can’t remember what it’s for, but you know it’s probably important. You mumble an apology to Tenko and race into the kitchen, feeling like you dodged a bullet and feeling really dumb at the same time.

The chocolate box is a pain to make, just like you thought it would be, but you at least get some studying time in while you’re waiting for the chocolate in the sides to set. You and Hana are studying for an exam, while Tenko is trying to write a research paper on quirk history. Mon explores your apartment, then settles under the kitchen table, half asleep on your feet and half asleep on Tenko’s. Whenever you have to get up, he makes sure to grumble in protest.

“He’s fine,” Hana says, after the third time you apologize to Mon for having to get up. “I had no idea you had this many orders. I didn’t think guys cared that much about White Day.”

“I think guys care about not getting in trouble with their girlfriends,” you say. Most of your attention is going into piecing together the chocolate box. “Girls tend to go really hard for Valentine’s Day, and most guys don’t want to put in that kind of effort. So they outsource it.”

“At least you get to make money,” Hana says, and you nod. “Think you’ll get anything for White Day this year?”

You shrug. “What about you?”

You know the answer to that one — one of your orders is for her. You made sure to finish it and hide it before she got here. “Maybe. I don’t know,” Hana says. “Tenko, are you giving anybody anything?”

Tenko makes a startled sound, and you picture him blushing, averting his eyes. “I didn’t get anything on Valentine’s Day.”

“You don’t have to get something on Valentine’s Day to give somebody something for White Day,” Hana scolds. “Come on. I know there are cute girls in your class. What about Ayaka? Or Chisato? How about —”

Your stomach twists, and worse, your hands shake, messing up the placement of the last side of the box. Now the entire thing’s at risk of caving in, and you can’t hold the entire thing together and place the last side at the same time. “Oh, no —“

“What?” Tenko’s chair skids out, and a moment later he’s in the kitchen with you. You don’t have a chance to explain — anything — before his hands come up to steady the sides you can’t get to. “Is this right? Should I hold it somewhere else?”

“No,” you say, stunned. “I’m sorry. You didn’t have to get your gloves dirty.”

“It’s okay,” Tenko says. When you pictured him blushing after Hana asked him about girls, you must have been right — his cheeks are pink. “You’ve been working really hard on this. I don’t want anything to happen to it.”

“Thanks,” you say. Your heart is missing beats all over the place, both from the near miss with the box and from being this close to Tenko. You’ve never been this close to him when Mon wasn’t involved. “It shouldn’t be long. I just need the whole thing to set.”

You affix the last side of the box, then steady it as well, taking care that your hands don’t overlap with Tenko’s. “This is for Shindo?” Tenko clarifies, and you nod. “I hope you made him pay a lot.”

“It’s the most expensive thing I’m making this year,” you say. “I just hope it doesn’t start a trend or something. Making more than one of these — maybe if I had a bakery or something. Definitely not like this.”

“Would you want a bakery?” Tenko asks. His gloved hands are steady, even though both his index fingers are lifted. “Just because you’re good at something doesn’t mean it’s what you want to do.”

“Don’t quiz her,” Hana warns from the kitchen table. “We have to do enough career stuff already.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You glance up at Tenko, then look away in a hurry. His eyelashes are really long. “It’s nice of you to say that. Usually people just assume I’ll be a baker or a pastry chef or something.”

“You’d be good at that,” Tenko says. “But you should do something you like.”

You nod. The box is coming together, finally — soon you’ll be able to let go. Tenko doesn’t move, or complain about having to stay there, and he jumped up to help you right away. As far as your crush on him goes, that’s really bad news for you, and all at once, you wished you hadn’t chickened out on making him something for Valentine’s Day. In your class, almost all the boys wind up getting chocolate from somebody, even if no girl in particular has a crush on them. The idea that all the girls in Tenko’s class missed the boat — and that you missed it too — breaks your heart a little bit. Making dog biscuits for Mon is nice, but it’s not the same thing as making something just for him.

“White Day,” Tenko says, and you glance up at him again. “Do you think you’ll get anything?”

“Probably not.” It feels embarrassing to admit to the boy you have a crush on that nobody’s ever interested in you, but you don’t want to lie. “It’s okay, though. After today I never want to see another chocolate bar in my life.”

Tenko laughs, and you fight the urge to tilt your head sideways and rest it against his shoulder. “What are you guys doing in there?” Hana asks. You hear her chair scrape back, too. “Can I help?”

“Um, sure. The box is okay, but I still have to make all the decorations.” You let go of it cautiously, and Tenko does the same — but he doesn’t go back to the table. “If you want to help with that, you can.”

“We do,” Tenko says at once. “Right, Hana?”

“Definitely. We don’t hate chocolate yet.” Hana steps into the kitchen, rolling up her sleeves. “Where do we start?”

Hana, Tenko, and Mon stay until your mom gets home from work and their mom calls to ask where they are, and everything goes faster with their help. The fact that you get your orders done at all is thanks to the Shimuras. Once they leave, it’s all you can do to clean up the kitchen, make dinner for yourself and your mom, and stumble through the rest of your homework before bed.

Monday morning is busy. You got so many orders this year that you have to bring them in a wagon, and you set up shop out just outside the school’s front doors to hand it all out. You’re expecting Shindo to complain about the box — he’s that kind of guy — but instead he’s visibly impressed. “This will work,” he says as he picks it up — carefully, like you warned him. “Thanks.”

Even if baking isn’t really your quirk, you’re good enough at it to make a lot of people happy. As you make your way into the school, you see a lot of your packages being opened, a lot of people smiling. You’ll be busy next year, and next year, you’ll make sure to have something for Tenko on Valentine’s Day. Even if it’s just as friends, since you’re officially friends now. And maybe he’ll get you something for White Day, even if it’s just to be nice. It would be nice to get something once.

But when you step into your homeroom class and head for your desk, you get a shock, because unlike last year and every year in middle school before that, your desk isn’t empty. There’s a small plushie sitting there, with a bag of sour candies propped up against it.

The plushie is a brown and white dog, with perked-up ears and big round eyes, and when you pick it up, its fur is ridiculously soft. The package of sour candies is a flavor you like, a brand you haven’t tried before, and there’s no note. Is it even for you? Maybe whoever put it here got your desk mixed up for someone else’s. That would make more sense than —

“If you know who left you that, you should give it back,” Yue says as she flops down into the seat next to you. “Everybody knows you’re supposed to give chocolate.”

That’s right. Everybody knows that, so anybody would, unless they knew better. Unless they’d heard you say it. Like Tenko did.

You tell yourself to hold it together. Not to get ahead of yourself, or assign more meaning to this than there actually is, or assume that it’s anything more than Tenko just being nice. Because he is nice, and the two of you are friends, and he knew you weren’t going to get a White Day gift from anybody else. You tell yourself that, but it doesn’t matter. You spend the rest of homeroom in a daze, running your fingers over the plushie’s ears again and again, as a hummingbird flutter of hope spreads slowly through your veins. Maybe. Maybe there’s a chance he likes you, too.

<- part 1

taglist: @shigarakislaughter @f3r4lfr0gg3r @lvtuss @deadhands69 @xeveryxstarfallx @lacrimae-lotos @issaortiz @stardustdreamersisi @evilcookie5 @cryptidfuckerofficial @minniessskii @aslutforfictionalmen

[kaiserinnessie]

Hello! Can we get some headcanons about Karasu, Ness (plus anyone else you like) having a crush on reader? Like how would they go about their crush and go about pinning for them etc etc

Anyways hope you'll have a wonderful day or night!!!!! Don't forget to drink water!!<33

Of course!! Thank u for asking:D sorry it took a bit to dooo!!

Karasu, Ness, and Bachira having a crush on you! Only adding one extra because of how long I plan on making the headcannons:P but I’m not afraid of writing more!

No smut in this!!

HIGHSCHOOL AU!! <———

KARASU TABITO

Karasu Tabito is the kind of person who hides his insecurities behind a smirk and a teasing word. He’s always the first to joke around, to make everyone laugh, and to act as though nothing ever fazes him. But when it comes to you? All that confidence starts to crack, revealing the underlying yearning and self-doubt he’s desperately trying to suppress. Poor thing just wants to feel like he’s enough for you!

Big tease!

•Karasu has always been one of the smart ones, as as much as he is smart, he’s FLIRTY. And a huge tease. Granted not as much as a few others.. but it’s definitely still there.

•He’ll catch you off guard with a remark like, “You always do that when you’re thinking, huh?” Whenever he notices you tilt your head.. maybe lip your lips.. whatever it is. He knows. And he exploits it as much as he can.

•Loves to comment on if you’ve had a particular rough morning, maybe bed head or obviously not awake.. he will make sure you know. Though if you ever actually get mad or sad over it he will stop. “Woah.. did ya fight a raccoon last night?”

•if you EVER tease him back you have a 50/50 chance of him returning it or becoming a slightly flustered mess. Not like he will show it easily though.

Tries his best to always be near you…

•Karasu’s natural charisma often makes it seem like he’s always surrounded by people. But when it comes to you, he’ll go out of his way to be near you without you even realizing it. He’ll sit next to you in class when he doesn’t have to, lean casually against your desk just to talk to you between lessons, and find excuses to walk you home. He’ll claim it’s no big deal.. “I’m just making sure you don’t get lost, okay?”…but secretly, he cherishes the moments when it’s just the two of you.

•When he’s near you, he can’t help but feel a flutter of something warm in his chest. It’s the kind of feeling he’s not used to.. a feeling that makes him anxious because he doesn’t know how to handle it. But no matter how much he tries to suppress it, he keeps gravitating toward you, hoping you’ll notice him without him ever having to say the words. Until eventually he HAS too.

Jealousssyyy

•Karasu isn’t the jealous type.. at least, that’s what he tells himself. But when you laugh or talk to other guys, something sharp pricks at his chest. It’s an uncomfortable feeling, one he’s not used to. His first instinct is to mask it with sarcasm, to act as if it doesn’t bother him. But inside, he feels a knot in his stomach, a slight unease at the thought of you with someone else.

•If you’re talking to someone else, he’ll often find a way to insert himself into the conversation. His usual teasing becomes sharper, but it’s not about being funny anymore. It’s about making sure you know that he’s the one you should be paying attention to. He’ll throw his arm over your shoulder, get a little too close, and maybe say something like, “You sure you’re not wasting your time with this guy? You know I’m more fun.”

Absolute sweetie when alone

•Despite his usual bravado, Karasu craves the quiet moments with you. Whether it’s walking together after school, sitting next to you in class, or just sharing a silent moment… those are the times when his emotions are the hardest to hide. He’ll find himself watching you, memorizing the way you move, the way you laugh, the way you make everything seem so much brighter.

•These moments are the hardest for him. Because in the silence, he starts to realize just how much you mean to him.. and how terrified he is of losing you. It’s in these moments when the thought of telling you becomes unbearable, and he wonders if he’s even worthy of being the one you turn to.

Loves to impress you

•Deep down, Karasu has always felt like he’s been playing catch-up. He hides it well behind his teasing and cocky exterior, but there’s a part of him that constantly fears being seen as mediocre. He wants to stand out, to be someone worth remembering. And with you, he wants to be good enough. Not just for your attention, but for something deeper, something real.

•In gym class, he’ll push himself a little harder when he sees you watching. He doesn’t want to admit it, but the thought of impressing you is what drives him to do better. If you compliment him, he’ll respond with his usual smirk, trying to act like it doesn’t matter. But inside, his heart flutters with a mix of relief and excitement. She noticed me. She sees me.

Late night texts? Absolutely

•Karasu is the kind of person who can hide his emotions behind a joke. But sometimes, late at night, he’ll send you messages that are more than just silly or sarcastic.

•He might text you just to pass the time, “What would you do if I wasn’t here? Would you miss me?” Or maybe something a little more personal, like..“Do you ever wonder if life is just… full of random moments that change everything?” It’s his way of reaching out, of saying something without actually saying it. He won’t admit it, but he’s waiting for your reply, hoping you’ll answer in a way that makes him feel less alone.

Once he knows he’s WHIPPED

•There comes a point where Karasu can’t hide his feelings anymore, no matter how much he tries. It might happen when you’re laughing with friends, and his heart skips a beat just hearing your voice. Or when you smile at him in passing, and he’s suddenly unable to breathe.

•It’s in that moment that he realizes.. he’s completely, hopelessly in love with you. And it scares him. Because he’s terrified that he’s just another guy, another fleeting interest. That no matter how hard he tries, he’ll never be enough for you. But for now, all he can do is keep pretending, keep laughing, keep flirting, all while hoping you’ll see past the facade and notice the real him.

Alexis Ness

Ness’s feelings for you are incredibly pure and genuine, blooming like a soft, sweet affection that he doesn’t quite know how to navigate. From the moment he develops a crush on you, he becomes like a loyal, affectionate puppy, always wanting to be close to you and find reasons to make you smile. His energy is contagious.. when he’s around, everything feels a little lighter, a little more cheerful. He’s the kind of person who radiates positivity, but underneath that, there’s a quiet yearning and a soft vulnerability that he doesn’t always know how to express.

Ness has a deep insecurity about being seen as ordinary or forgettable. He works hard to stand out, to be noticed, but he often finds himself comparing himself to others, unsure of where he fits in the world. His crush on you brings out the best and the worst in him.. his fears, his doubts, and his desire to be enough for you.

Constantly finds reasons to be with u

•Ness doesn’t waste any opportunity to spend time with you. Whether it’s volunteering to help with schoolwork or suggesting to walk home together, he’s always finding reasons to be by your side. He’ll randomly show up with coffee or your favorite snack, his eyes lighting up when he sees you, eager to see your reaction. It’s almost like he wants to make you happy in the smallest ways, hoping that his efforts are enough to brighten your day.

•Though he’s always friendly and cheerful, there’s a subtle nervousness behind it. He wants to be the best version of himself for you, but he doesn’t always know how. When you smile at him or thank him for the small gestures, he feels a warmth spread through his chest, a quiet joy that makes him feel like everything is worth it. But as much as he tries to keep it together, his heart races, and he often stumbles over his words, embarrassed by how much he truly cares.

As sweet and gentle as a puppy (for you)

•When Ness realizes how deeply he feels for you, he gets a bit shy. He tries to play it cool, to act nonchalant, but it’s clear he’s overthinking everything. When you look at him or ask him a question, he stumbles over his words, his usual confidence faltering. He’ll laugh it off, pretending it’s nothing, but inside, he’s feeling a little like a mess. His sweet nature shines through, but his heart skips a beat whenever you say something kind, and he can’t help but overanalyze every interaction.

•Ness doesn’t know how to express his feelings in a bold way, so instead, he shows you through little actions.. holding the door open, offering his jacket when it’s cold, helping you with your assignments. He just wants to make your life a little easier and, in his quiet way, let you know that he’s always there for you. These small acts are his love language, and they come so naturally to him, yet he still worries if they’re enough.

Loves to make you smile

•One of the most endearing things about Ness is how much he wants to see you happy. He’s the type to notice when you’re feeling down or stressed and will try his best to lift your spirits. Whether it’s with a silly joke, a comforting gesture, or even just a quiet, understanding look, Ness is always there to help. He’s not the type to give grand speeches or make big gestures, but he’s the kind of person who shows love in the small, everyday moments.

•He’s incredibly thoughtful.. if you mentioned liking a particular song or a certain type of snack in passing, you can bet he’ll show up with it the next time he sees you. Ness loves these little moments because they let him express his feelings without needing to say too much. He’s a natural caretaker in that way, and he’s always hoping that his kindness makes you feel special.

Gets Jealous so easily

•Though Ness is gentle and kind, he’s not immune to feeling a little possessive when he sees other people getting too close to you. It’s not that he’s trying to be controlling.. it’s just that he feels a little insecure. He wants to be the one who gets your attention, the one who makes you smile the most. When another guy talks to you or compliments you, Ness can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy in his chest, even though he would never act on it in an aggressive way. (To you.. can’t say the same for anyone else)

•Instead, he quietly tries to show you that he’s there for you, often becoming a little more protective without even realizing it. He might hang out with you more, offering to help you with things that no one else would, just to remind you that he’s there and cares.(While threatening the other person, only if you show that you obviously dislike them. He wouldn’t want to hurt your friends.. mostly.)

Those quiet moments

•When you’re alone together, that’s when Ness’s feelings are the most apparent. He doesn’t need to say much in these moments, and neither do you. He just enjoys being near you, finding comfort in the small silences. Maybe you’re both doing homework together, or he’s walking you home, but in these quiet moments, he feels like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be. It’s almost magical

•Ness often finds himself stealing glances at you, his heart beating a little faster whenever you laugh or smile. He’s so afraid of ruining the moment by saying the wrong thing, so he often just stays quiet, content in the fact that he’s by your side. If you ever notice his lingering gaze or the way he shyly looks away when you catch him staring, it’s because he’s feeling more than he knows how to express. He’s falling for you, and he doesn’t want to mess it up.

His loyalty

•What stands out the most about Ness’s crush on you is his loyalty. He’s the type who would drop everything to be there for you, no questions asked. He wants to be your protector, your friend, and your confidant. He’s fiercely loyal and would never do anything to hurt you. If you ever need someone to lean on, Ness would be the first person there, offering his support without hesitation. His affection is quiet, steady, and unwavering.

Moment he realizes it all.. yeah

•Ness doesn’t always realize that his feelings for you go beyond simple friendship. It’s not until one quiet afternoon, when you laugh at something he said, or maybe when you thank him for something small he did, that it hits him. His heart does a little flutter, and suddenly, he understands just how deeply he cares about you. From that point on, it’s like a weight is lifted, and he’s even more determined to make you happy in any way he can.

•Ness’s love for you is gentle and earnest. It’s not grand or flashy, but it’s real and constant. He’s the type to love you with his whole heart, showing it through simple actions and soft words. And though he might still be a little unsure of how to express his feelings perfectly, he’s determined to be someone you can rely on, someone who’ll always be there for you.

MEGURU BACHIRA

Bachira is the type to approach his crush on you with a mix of lightheartedness, unpredictability, and deep affection. When he falls for you, it’s not like anyone else’s crush.. it’s loud, it’s chaotic, and it’s full of emotion. Bachira doesn’t believe in hiding his feelings, even if it means being a little too obvious sometimes. But beneath all the teasing and joking, there’s a soft, vulnerable side to him that he doesn’t always show. He wants to make you smile, he wants you to laugh, and more than anything, he wants to be the one to make you feel special.

He can’t ever get enough of you

•Bachira is a natural tease. The moment he realizes he likes you, he can’t help but bombard you with playful comments, jokes, and lighthearted teasing. Whether it’s making silly faces or doing goofy impressions, he’s always trying to get a reaction out of you. He’ll ask you odd questions, poke fun at you in a (mostly)harmless way, and keep things light and fun. But behind all that playfulness is a genuine desire to make you laugh, to see you smile, to know that you’re enjoying his company.

•When he has a crush, he can’t resist constantly being around you. He’s the type who will sit next to you in class for no reason, sneak glances when you’re not looking, and always find a way to get your attention, even if it’s through his random antics. He’s the guy who’ll throw an arm around your shoulder and grin when you look confused, as if everything he’s doing is just another joke.. but in reality, it’s him trying to stay close to you.

When not talking your ear off, it’s his actions

•Bachira’s way of showing affection is a bit unorthodox, but it’s sincere. He’s like a bumble bee always buzzing around you. Always texting you. “How was your day?” “How are youu?” “Can we eat lunch together?” “I miss youuu!!!” “ANSWER.”

•Will remember almost everything you say.. just mostly the dumb parts. Hates studying but will do it for you(he cracks jokes the whole time).. HUGE CUDDLE BUG. Always touching you.. never lets you go..

Gets jelly and it’s STRONG

•While Bachira’s personality is carefree and wild, his feelings for you run deep. When he notices someone else getting too close to you, it’s impossible for him to hide his feelings. He’ll pretend(and fail) it’s no big deal, but you can see it in the way his smile fades for just a moment, or how his hand curls into a fist when someone else tries to flirt with you. He’ll never be outright aggressive..(mostly), but there’s a possessiveness in the way he watches people who get too close to you. He’s like a dog marking his territory.. he’s not threatening, but you can definitely feel his desire to keep you close to him.

•However, Bachira isn’t the type to fight over you(does not count for others) aggressively. Instead, he’ll act like everything’s fine and try to win your attention in more subtle ways, pulling you into his chaotic world and distracting you with his playful nature, all while secretly hoping that his antics are enough to make you notice how much he cares. He just wants to be the one to make you smile and feel special, even if it means letting his jealousy show occasionally(constantly)

Vulnerable with you when alone

•Underneath his loud and energetic exterior, Bachira has moments of quiet vulnerability when he’s around you. He can get a little shy when it’s just the two of you, especially when things turn serious. If you catch him looking at you longer than usual, he might get embarrassed and quickly look away, trying to hide the blush that creeps up on his cheeks. When you talk about deeper things, his usual playful demeanor softens, and you see a glimpse of the real Bachira.. a lonely guy who feels a little unsure about himself but is desperately trying to make you feel happy.

•It’s in these quieter moments that Bachira’s true feelings for you come to the surface. He might not say it outright, but his actions speak volumes. He’ll gently touch your arm or shoulder in a reassuring way, or maybe he’ll put his hand on your back, guiding you through a crowd, always making sure you’re okay. His touch is full of affection. But when in public it grows a lot more.. rowdy. Still out of love though!!

NEEDS to be your first choice

•While Bachira doesn’t like to admit it, he really wants to be the first person you turn to when something goes wrong or when you’re feeling down. He has a quiet fear that you might not see him as more than a fun guy to hang out with. He wants to be the person who makes you feel better, the one who makes you laugh when you’re sad, and the one you want to spend time with above anyone else.

•When you’re upset, Bachira might not always know the right words to say, but he’ll always show up, ready to do whatever it takes to put a smile on your face. He doesn’t want you to feel alone, he knows all too well how it feels, and he doesn’t want you to rely on anyone but him when you need support. The thought of you turning to someone else for comfort stings him more than he lets on, but he hides it by cracking a joke or offering a silly comment, just so he can keep being the one you lean on.

Innocent and sweet(in his love. Bro is NOT innocent in general.)

•One of the sweetest things about Bachira’s crush on you is how innocent and pure it is. He’s not manipulative or calculating in his feelings.. everything he does is from the heart. He genuinely cares about you and wants to make you happy. There’s no ulterior motive.. he just enjoys being around you. Whether you’re just hanging out or studying together, he’s always doing little things to make you feel comfortable and appreciated.

•He doesn’t try to win you over with flashy gestures. Instead, he lets his goofy, chaotic personality do the talking, and though it may not be the most conventional way to show affection, it’s real. Bachira loves wholeheartedly, with a sincerity that can’t be overlooked, even if he’s not always the best at expressing it.

[evenmyhivemindisempty]

Which of the Boyds would be best friends? Which ones would hate each other?

Steve Murphy

Who he likes best: Quinn! They’re both annoying in similar ways, and although they’re generally sticklers for the rules, they both get the importance of going off-script sometimes. Quinn also doesn’t require any small talk from his companions, or expect Steve to be anything other than what he is.

Who he can’t stand: He finds the Corinthian appalling both because of all the murders, but also for making him question his sexuality! Beyond that, the Corinthian also just tends to lay on the charm in a way Steve finds off-putting and fake.

Donald Pierce

Who he likes best: You know, I think it’s actually Steve? Pierce genuinely thinks Steve’s kind of cool, what with the chasing down drug lords and the working with black ops militia groups and stuff. He’d love to take Steve out for drinks and listen to his stories. Steve also presents fairly masc, but not in an especially threatening way. He’s a specific kind of dad-coded that doesn’t *quite* match up with Pierce’s darkest kinks, but it is enough to make Pierce hungry for his approval. Pierce also wants to make him hotter. He begs Steve to let him buy him a new wardrobe. And stop shaving his damn hairline! They can figure this out together!

Who he can’t stand: He finds Quinn an utter pain in the ass to work with. Quinn’s competent, but he doesn’t like taking orders he disagrees with, which definitely results in the two butting heads and getting into a few heated altercations. Quinn’s tendency to bluntly speak his mind is also absolutely gonna result in Pierce getting his feelings hurt sooner rather than later.

Cap Hatfield

Who he likes best: He likes Ty! He appreciates how family oriented Ty is, and he likes that he’s more capable of living off the land than a lot of the Boyd characters.

Who he can’t stand: Cap recognizes a predator when he sees one, and he instantly distrusts the Corinthian. None of the Corinthian’s methods of charming his prey are effective on Cap at all.

Clement Mansell

Who he likes best: Haha, Clement thinks the Corinthian is super cool! He loves his style, he thinks he’s a blast to hang out with, and he likes how agreeable the Corinthian is. Sure, the Corinthian is down for a concert! Yeah, he wants to try out that new steakhouse too! He’s so ready to hit up a dance club after!

Who he can’t stand: He genuinely cannot be around Danny. Clement delusionally thinks of himself as a struggling musician who’s only doing crime to pay the bills until he makes it; meanwhile, Danny’s a rich kid who grew up eating caviar and lobster, who’s got no logical reason for doing any of this crap. He doesn’t know the struggle at all! Plus, he’s got a daddy that loves him, and he’s still a brat! Clement would do anything for that kind of fatherly love!

The Corinthian

Who he likes best: Oh, he adores Pierce. He’s such a delicious mess of insecurities and trauma he’s staunchly avoided confronting for decades! And he was so damn pretty when he was younger. Exactly the Corinthian’s type!

Who he can’t stand: He thinks Quinn is deeply unfun. At least Steve has some tasty breakdowns and self-worth issues to exploit! Quinn is too sure of himself to be interesting, and he’s also not exciting in the ways the Corinthian likes.

Eli Klaber

Who he likes best: He likes Cap best, mostly because Cap’s fun to go to the shooting range with, and also because if Cap sees him in a pretty dress he’ll instantly think of him as a woman, without Klaber having to say anything at all.

Who he can’t stand: As far as he’s concerned, Steve is a tedious control freak with the blandest and most boring outfits known to mankind. Sure, Klaber dresses similarly when he’s out and about, but Steve seems to genuinely think those ugly suits look good! Horrifying.

Danny Maguire

Who he likes best: Haha, he likes Clement best! He kind of looks up to Clement in a weird way, and thinks his schemes are next-level impressive. He kind of digs his outfit choices too, and he really vibes with some of his music tastes. He’d love to do karaoke with Clement! He can bring the weed and the coke! Once Clement responds to his texts, they’ll make this happen!

Who he can’t stand: Yeah, definitely Steve. He’s DEA – that’s kind of Danny’s natural enemy. Beyond that, Danny also just thinks Steve is a giant buzzkill and an unpleasant workaholic/alcoholic.

Ty Shaw

Who he likes best: Haha he honestly likes Steve! He thinks his crime-fighting stories are super cool, and he’s an excellent guy to go duck hunting with!

Who he can’t stand: Danny’s probably the guy he most dislikes on the spot, but if he gets to know the Corinthian better, it’s definitely gonna be him. He thinks he’s stylish and erudite at first, but when he eventually clocks him as a threat to his friends and family, he’s gonna want him as far away as possible!

Quinn McKenna

Who he likes best: Cap. He’s just an easy guy to kick back with, and maybe go on some nice camping trips with. There’s not many people in Quinn’s life that are down for roughing it in the way he prefers, but Cap is totally fine sans electronics, making fires, and navigating by map and compass!

Who he can’t stand: Clement is an unpredictable criminal and liar, and his out-of-tune singing gives Quinn the worst headaches!

[sugar-grigri]

Do you feel Asa's been underutilized these last chapters? I trust in Fuji but he kinda skipped over a lot of interest developments for her (her fame, her arm, Denji's identity, even the alley to some extent)

Has Fujimoto really forgotten Asa? 

That's an interesting question, and I think you're not the only one who thinks so. It's a pretty legitimate criticism and I'm not here to deny those concerns. No one can predict whether Asa's character development and treatment will be up to scratch. Since it's an answer that's answered at the end of a work. 

I think so too, just in the realization of the feelings, I would have liked it to be a little more tortured and focused on that. You could say that since Fujimoto seems to be trying to set up a fairly dense scenario, that too much concentration on the sentimental and internal debates between the characters would break the rhythm. What I'd like to say is that, if this is Fujimoto's intention...

CSM has already suffered from a loss of rhythm.

Worse, this loss of pace was achieved by focusing on Denji's character.

Worse still, Fujimoto preferred to concentrate on Denji's malaise, putting Asa aside. 

I think it's important that Asa regains her role as protagonist. I know this may come as a shock, but despite my analysis, I sometimes get fed up with the focus on Denji. Even when I thought she'd be back in the light, when she was ready to save Denji, the focus was irrevocably on him when he woke up. I find that Denji's character takes up an enormous amount of space in relation to the treatment of the others, and that wasn't the case at all in Part 1. 

As much as Yoshida is written as a mystery, Asa is less so: she's a character built on the need to question her every action.

Does it really make sense for her to want to help Chainsaw Man? It's not at all, but it's treated as a logical consequence of CSM saving her. You're right, we don't exploit at all the fact that she has to mentally and emotionally unite her feelings for CSM and Denji when she learns who she is. It would have been super interesting to exploit the fact that it's a difficult exercise because she doesn't feel the same way about one as the other. 

As for the masturbation scene, I agree and disagree with the two opposing sides that analyze this scene. For me, given the narrative coherence of Asa's character and the way it's written, it should have been a tsunami. For me it's a sexual assault on Denji and Asa committed by Yoru, but it's also a destruction of the way Asa tries to protect her. Again, it could have been exciting to exploit that just as Asa influences Yoru with her feelings, Yoru influences Asa by putting her in danger and having an influence on her fear, not realizing the wounds that can be inflicted on her, whether physical (lost hand), or mental (this assault). But no, it's hidden. And that's where I agree with those who argue that it's """"consented"""". Not by saying it is. But for the fact that Fujimoto does treat this scene as it is, and decides to euphemize it so as not to dwell on it too much. It was the worst possible way to go, and I'm really disappointed. Not for deciding to make this scene. But for not exploiting it. 

I'm sorry, but it's really in the treatment of Asa's character that I don't have much hope and that I'm disappointed. At times, I even get the impression that Fujimoto wanted to exploit Denji's final love interest a little, developing her until she wanted to save him. And then it's good! We've got our saviour. 

I want Asa to be exploited just as much as I want Yoru to be exploited. Fami is separate, and so is death. They themselves are sources of mystery. But if Asa is a protagonist, so is Yoru. Or at least a deuteragonist. It might have been interesting to exploit the pov of a knight of the apocalypse. Exploiting and developing this hatred for CSM, the affectation of feelings that can make this hatred more passionate. But again, nothing. 

I'm not saying that Denji's arc didn't add anything. All my analyses are here to explain how it differs from what has been said. Did it have to be done by focusing massively on Denji? Without any variation in points of view? Seriously, I know Fujimoto can do it. He just decided not to.

So the result is that I'm raging for Asa. And I'll eat my fist if I see that Yoshida isn't coming back and is still underused. 

Worse, Denji's character is getting on my nerves. 

There, that was salty grigri. 

[dcdreamblog]

So after your interview with Uncle Sam, I went on a bit of a dive into some of his fellow Freedom Fighters. There’s the main ones, of course, but seem to be a fair number of associate members or hangers on. I was looking through pictures and in the background of a couple of newspaper photographs of them, there’s a guy who looks pretty much like the speedster Max Mercury, of the Flash Family and mentor to Impulse.

Are these the same guy? Max Mercury rarely talks to the press and seemed to mostly operate in the middle of nowhere in Alabama, barring all hands on deck scenarios.

Someone really needs to get one of those swappable number accident boards that says "Days since a speedster fucked the timeline" Yea that's the same guy, Max Mercury AKA Quicksilver AKA Whip Whirlwind AKA Thunderpace AKA a whole lot of other names here there and everywhere. While details about the man are scarce we do know that he originally appeared in 1838 as a friend and ally of the Blackfoot people helping them to resist the encroachment of white settlers and the American military. He was given some kind of mystic secret by the tribe's spiritual leader that granted him superhuman speed. While he stayed in that time and place for a while eventually he vanished from history only to appear again in New York City in 1891, 53 years later but without having visibly aged a day. This would become his pattern. He would appear in a new place, a new time spend a year or so there under a new superhuman identity and then vanish into the wind. Usually to appear about a decade further along as if he had just popped back into the world from some back door in time. The fact that he wasn't very publically talkative meant that most often his exploits were explained as urban legend, or mass hysteria. It wasn't until he again appeared in 1940 that he became anchored for an extended period, because he found himself operating under his most well known supranym: Quicksilver. He worked as a member of the All Star Squadron where he was a loose associate of the Freedom Fighters side of the organization. No one knows why for certain it could simply be that he was in the right place at the right time to be chosen for a Freedom Fighters mission, did a good job, and so kept being chosen. It wasn't until 1947 that he again totally vanished but only after having his life saved by Jay Garrick and Johnny Quick in a battle against the obscure villain The Screaming Skull. A rescue that Quicksilver promised to repay at a later date, no questions asked. One can assume he made at least one more jump after that, or maybe several as he appeared in the modern day to help Jay Garrick, Johnny Quick and the 3rd Flash defeat Professor Zoom masquerading as the deceased 2nd Flash. It was after that that he became mentor to the beloved but scatterbrained young hero Impulse, now Kid Flash. In his long life and especially due to his breadth of experience of many times, places and people Max Mercury has gained the nickname "The Zen Guru of Speed" being the first man who began to assemble a theory as to the physical and energetic underpinning of not only all super speed but indeed all motion everywhere in the multiverse. An at one time radical theory that we now know as the multiversal Speed Force a cutting edge science we are still making great strides in. He has served as something of a spiritual confidante of the Flash Family and other super speed heroes although the man himself is mostly retired. No one knows exactly WHY he chose the tiny town of Manchester, Alabama, a minuscule unincorporated community in Walker County with a population for 91 for his retirement. It could be where he had been from all the way back nearly 200 years ago. It could be he has some roots there. It could be he likes the quiet and the cost of living. Honestly I don't know and its not my business to find out.

[random-and-average]

Yandere Miguel O'Hara with Shadow Wizard!S/O

Author's Note: I spent hours pondering how to make this work, but I came up with nothing that would make sense in terms of the movie. Thus, my rationale is that, if the multiverse details every single possibility and change, then magic has to exist in one of them, right? (Please just let me have this :']) Also, this headcanon is most likely the darkest one I've made so far. With great power comes great suffering, it seems.

Content Warning(s): kidnapping, confinement, mentioned drugging, exploitation, stalking, Google translate Spanish, extremely bad writing

At first, Miguel would try to find a way to use your magic to benefit him while determining your specialties and limits

Of course, those a part of the Shadow Wizard Money Gang Secret Society (SWSS) have to be exceptionally good at magic, so you're no exception

(Although, the society exclusively practices conjuration, transmutation, and necromancy magic because I don't see a Shadow Wizard society practicing things like divination or abjuration)

At the very least, if you refuse to use your magic to serve someone who is lesser than you, you'll just have to conjure random items that Spider-People need, such as a screwdriver or stepping stool

At most, if you're willing to be under Miguel's orders, you will be a semi-member of the Spider-Society, so you'll be brought on missions to aid in maintaining the order of the multiverse

On the off chance that Miguel has free time, he'll demand you see him so that he can witness you utilize your magic

Your universe's Spider-Man, if he is a part of Miguel's society, is internally cursing the entirety of the SWSS for causing him trouble outside of his universe

"Do you guys have to cause chaos in every location you're in?" Spider-Mage complained as he followed you around. As your universe's original Spider-Man, he was tasked to monitor you while you get comfortable at headquarters, though the two of you hated the idea of being in the other's presence.

"And do you have to be a wet carpet in every location you're in?" You quipped. "Spirits forbid you cast a minor transmutation spell! You might just upset the very order of magic with that one."

"I fail to see how using a shrinking spell to make Webslinger think his horse went missing is a 'minor transmutation spell,' but please enlighten me."

"I can't enlighten a fool who thinks size reduction is anything more than a minor spell. Inherent ineptitude isn't something that can be fixed immediately."

"Why you..."

»»-———¯\_(ツ)_/¯———-««

The moment he grasps the full scope of your abilities, including your necromancy ones, he'll start taking up more of your time until all of your days are spent with him

Granted, at this point it's not out of love, but so you can bring the family that he lost and was never able to get back no matter how hard he tried back

And he will force you to truly resurrect them, no matter the price

Diamonds? A body? Something holy? Something cursed? Anything you need, he'll provide it for you

You'll be confined to a solitary room until you get the spell right, unable to see anyone but Miguel when he provides you the materials to resurrect them

He can't afford you being distracted when the possibility of getting his family back is within reach

Unfortunately, the main component of true resurrection is that the soul of the person is willing to be brought back to life

Main problem? Only Gabriella is willing to come back, both of his wives meanwhile...

You can't even plead with them to come back, as Miguel doesn't have either wife's corpse

And he refuses to not have both his wife and child

So you're forced to stay in that cramped room and sleep on an uncomfortable mattress for longer, draining your energy repeatedly casting the same spell

With nothing grounding you to the present except for the buzzing of fluorescent lights, you started wondering how long it had been since Miguel quite literally dragged you to this small room in order to fulfill his deranged fantasies.

'Bring back my family,' he demanded from you as if you could just perfectly resurrect people at the press of a button, and even then, with his distasteful personality, you doubted the reunion would be all sunshine and rainbows.

However, you were starting to get desperate.

You didn't care how he was going to insane lengths to bring back his dead wife and daughter. You didn't care that the former individual didn't want to come back. You didn't care that he somehow was able to not only supply but continuously provide the materials you needed to cast the spell.

You just wanted to get out of this prison.

You couldn't stand the buzzing lights; the stiff spring mattress that reeked of body odor due to you not being able to shower; the putrid stench and humiliating sight of the toilet bucket, stripping you of your pride as a Shadow Wizard; the monochrome color scheme of this spirit forsaken cell that was exacerbated by the grey concrete walls all around you; the lack of being able to interact with anyone, save for the madman that brought you here; and the fact that you were only here to be exploited, to be treated like a tool that can be used whenever and however its owner pleases.

The screeching noise of metal against concrete stole your attention and forced you to look at the only person who would enter this miserable room.

"I have the needed materials."

You couldn't help but sneer at Miguel's statement. His straight-forwardness was refreshing at times, but in this situation, it infuriated you. He didn't even politely request that you cast a difficult spell or ensured that you were comfortable to do so. If only he knew that, back in your dimension, people would get on their hands and knees to beg you to cast a simple spell.

"What makes you think that your wife will allow herself to be brought back? She hasn't done it in the past, so what would make her change now? You might as well give up or settle for only Gabriella being resurrected," you reasoned. Hopefully, he still had enough sanity to know that what he wanted was a pipe dream. If he did, it would mean you would be able to be freed sooner.

"She might have finally come around to the idea that it's better to come back to her husband."

Rage almost compelled you to lash out at him. How easy it was for him to talk as if he was minorly inconvenienced by his wife's refusal when you were the one suffering because of it. Though, you reigned your anger in since you wanted to reduce the amount of time you had to spend in this place.

Miguel would eventually understand that achieving his dream was futile, and some vengeful part of you wished to see him break down in despair when he does.

»»-———¯\_(ツ)_/¯———-««

His feelings for you only start to change once he realizes that, regardless of how many times you cast True Resurrection, neither of his wives will be willing to come back

Miguel is obviously devastated by these turn of events

Suddenly, he is much more aware of how lonely he was this entire time, and it's too much for him to bear alone

So he finds comfort in someone that has no choice but to provide him solace, you

Slowly, with each visit (or counselling sessions, basically), he grows fond of you

You are the only one who stood next to him when he was at his lowest (even if it was unwillingly)

In gratitude, you are let out of your room, but you're limited to the entirety of headquarters, nothing outside of it

He can't let you leave after you saw him when he was the most vulnerable he'd ever been since the loss of his second family; you were special

Eventually, the longer you stay by his side, his fondness for you grows into something else as he takes note of your interests, quirks, and minute features

"Miguel? Miguelllllllll. Are you even listening to me?"

Lyla appeared in front of the footage of you laughing with the other Spider-People as you demonstrated that you, too, were capable of shooting webs like them, forcing Miguel's attention to focus on her rather than you.

"Por el amos de Dios (for fuck's sake), what do you want, Lyla? I'm busy."

The woman gave him a stare that indicated that she didn't believe him. "Yeahhh, busy doing what exactly? Busy being a creep?"

"I'm busy monitoring the anomaly to ensure they don't interfere with the multiverse."

She scoffed, "You and I both know that they have no intention of doing so. If they did, they would've done it already, seeing as they have plenty of magic at their disposal. Obviously, you're stalking them out of your own self-interests."

Miguel glared at the hologram as he turned off the footage with a frustrated huff.

"I don't care what you think about me, but any word about this to anyone else, especially them, and I will erase you. Understand?"

All of Lyla's sass vanished faced with the man's glowing red stare that pierced through her being. Although she wished he was just bluffing, his tone clearly showed otherwise.

"...I understand." And with that, she disappeared.

»»-———¯\_(ツ)_/¯———-««

You'll know when Miguel is completely besotted with you

He will start taking up more of your time, just like he did when he understood your necromancy magic

This time, however, it's not to resurrect his dead family; it's to just spend time with him

It starts out as being forced to have breakfast, lunch, and dinner with him

Then it turns into full-fledged "dates" where he allows you to explore various dimensions under his supervision

Finally, you are forced to choose to have a microchip implanted in your body so that Miguel knows where you are 24/7; be magically bound to Miguel through a sacred ritual, courtesy of an intimidated Spider-Mage following orders; or stay by Miguel 24/7

Of course, the man does feel guilty for keeping you in the equivalent of solitary confinement

As a result, he is willing to bend the knee to you at times, giving into your demands as long as they aren't too "unreasonable"

He will spend the rest of his life atoning for what he did to you

Dedicates a space for you in his home where you can cast and experiment with as many spells as you desire

(It has cameras hidden in every nook and cranny in case you start dabbling in magic that'll take you away from him)

Absolutely melts inside when you start becoming less hostile/defensive towards him

(However, if your hostility doesn't stop, he'll simply remedy the issue by sneaking a love potion—once again, courtesy of Spider-Mage—into your drink)

Without fail, he takes a week-long break on your "honeymoon" every year, which usually involves visiting your home dimension

Speaking of your home dimension, the Shadow Wizard Secret Society (SWSS) initially doesn't take too kindly to one of their own being romantically involved with a magic-less person

But as the saying goes: if there's a will, there's a way

After a few choice threats and an offer to provide them with any needed materials, they're perfectly fine with Miguel

Though your colleagues pity you for being bound to such a lowly lifeform

Miguel loves seeing you cast magic and will even set aside some time for you to show him your power if you desire it

Secretly looks forward to watching you teach your future children magic

Gave you access to his desk, so you can also watch the Spider-People

Even allows you to be there while he discusses plans, mainly because Lyla likes having you there

(She sometimes begs you to demonstrate your magical prowess by having you animate objects into recreating the plan)

Will keep you in the dark about plans concerning individuals that could negatively influence you, specifically Miles and Hobie

Jealous of any creature you summon/conjure, even if it's to do a task; though, his jealousy intensifies if it's a humanoid

Goes through the effort of learning wizard customs (courtesy of Spider-Mage, like always)

All things considered, it was a normal day for you. You just spent hours watching movies that Miguel bought for you in his massive luxury apartment, and there weren't alarms about a rogue anomaly. The entire day so far was peaceful and uneventful, really.

And that made the alarms in your head go off.

Your thoughts were interrupted when your homunculus dropped right beside you on the couch with an excited chirp. With a smile, you pet your servant.

"So, is Miguel hiding something from me again?"

It tapped the cushion twice. Yes.

"I knew it," you sighed. "I wonder if it has something to do with Hobie again."

You got up from the sofa with a groan as you stretch, and your homunculus jumped down to join you. However, you picked it up and placed it back where it was.

"You'll have to stay here for now, Empanada. Wouldn't want the mean spider to know who gave away his plans."

The homunculus, Empanada (You honestly thought that it deserved a better name, but Jess jokingly suggested that Miguel would like it more if you named after something he liked), whined, but it ultimately laid down on a pillow, indicating that it wouldn't follow you.

With your homunculus out of the way, you closed your eyes and pictured the meeting area that you were familiar with as well as the empty chair that was reserved for you.

"Teleport."

Rather than feeling the soft cushions of your chair, you felt the sensation of falling from the sky, and when you opened your eyes, that was indeed the case since you teleported a good amount of feet above the ground. "Are you kidding me right now?"

Expectedly, the people in the room didn't anticipate your arrival.

"I didn't know that they could teleport!"

"Gwen, you didn't tell me that there was a Spider-Person that could come out of thin air!"

"Oh ho, that person is the last person Miguel would want to be here."

"Querido/Querida!"

Before you could cast another spell, you find yourself in Miguel's arms while he chided you.

"What are you doing here? You should be back at home!"

"Don't think I'm stupid, Mig. I know something's up when there's nothing going on."

"That doesn't mean you should cast such a dangerous spell!"

"Any wizard worth their salt knows how to cast a teleportation spell. Besides, it's only 'dangerous' if you're not skilled enough."

"...Mi vida, we're having a talk after this."

Miguel set you gently onto the ground, and you steadied yourself before you saw that there was a seemingly new addition to the Spider-Society, a Spider-Man who looked to be bleeding out of his armpits.

"You didn't tell me that you recruited a new Spider-Man, Miguel."

"That's because I didn't. I had Jess bring him here because he disrupted a canon event in Earth-50101."

"Lemme guess, someone was supposed to die, and he saved them, right?"

"It would be for the sake of the multiverse-"

"So you say. Anyways," you turn to the new Spider-Man, "what's your name?"

"Miles. Miles Morales."

There was something about him that made him stand out from the millions of people you've seen across your life so far. Even though you've never touched divination magic, you could tell that Miles was destined for great things.

And you wanted to be there to experience those things.

"Something tells me that you and I are going to get along real well, Miles."

[kaibutsushidousha]

Any piece of media you’ve changed your mind on significantly? Bonus points if the only thing that caused the change was passing of time and not other material.

I really rewatch, so I judge things mostly according to what my mindset was back when I experienced them. The closest I have to a proper answer here is how Katekyo Hitman Reborn and Fairy Tail were my least favorite manga around high school and years later I had a sudden "Oh, I understand this part now" realization about a few things a decade later.

Reborn's example is, unsurprisingly, about the final chapter. It made the extremely controversial decision of ending on Reborn musing about how Tsuna learned nothing and is still the same person he was in chapter 1, except with friends now. Everyone hated that because the overarching narrative provided plenty of evidence to the contrary and because if the statement was true, the manga would be calling itself a waste of the reader's time. That was a sentiment I shared immensely.

My random epiphany on this one was that the "Tsuna learned nothing" quote comes from the perspective of Reborn, the character who wanted to teach him to be a mob boss and a killer, so it's celebrating that Tsuna remained a good boy through and through. It's thematically consistent despite the poor communication. In hindsight, Reborn couldn't have ended any other way.

And Fairy Tail's case came from looking back at the series through the lens of its core theme of mourning. Zeref was the one character I always considered good despite the rest of the series, and his deal was ultimately that he got cursed because he failed to cope with his brother's death and the curse causes him to autokill everything around him until he learns to get over it. Throughout his long life, Zeref created many tools that were exploited by half of the villains that came before him, and looking in hindsight, all of those were tools meant to cheat and control death.

And these ideas delivered in one of the main villains are obviously reflected in the main characters as well. Gray kills and mourns his dad 3 times in addition to carrying the guilt of indirectly killing Ur because he had mourned his dad properly the first time. There's a timeskip that sorta only exists kill off Lucy's dad and make her deal with that. And most importantly to make FT feel thematically consistent, Natsu's initial goal to find his dragon dad is ultimately revealed to be a quest to finally accept he died.

Grief is a constant theme in the series, but its importance only becomes evident in the final arc. Which is not something I can complain about because the only reason I stuck with Fairy Tail until the end is because I liked Rave that much to trust it to have at least a great ending, and Rave is another manga whose main theme is prevalent but only gets super evident with the final arc. Maybe the great difference in enjoyment came down to simply reading Rave as a finished story and reading Fairy Tail as an ongoing story. Who knows?

Does that mean I like those two now? No. I never reread them, so my first experience is still what counts. But at least now I believe I have a more fair and good-faith perspective of their flaws. And maybe an interest in checking Eden's Zero after it finishes (I'm not checking if it already finished because I think this post is funnier if it already finished 3 years ago and I don't know about it).

[demonogeny]

This is a way too long response to a very nice response to a way too long answer to a very nice ask, but I brought up some more blorbo images and things I'd like to share... so I made it a different post to not bury it and because I make things too long, sorry.

THIS IS A RESPONSE TO THIS POST AND ITS ANSWER (by @oddclan-askblog)

I will be honest, I just drew a random hand smudge but I do like your idea, I think that he would have or at least has had other different few host species, and given the Mudokon's status as slaves I would imagine they are on the market for Oktigis, maybe he could have had a Mudokon host before. I do think that in general Oktigis, at least male ones do prefer bigger, more broad, manly and imposing hosts because of course they would overcompensate their small, weak and squishy bodies like that, Glukkons do the same, but I also think that some Oktigis may like having lean or smaller hosts, perhaps at first they can only find or afford those, or maybe they like having a bit of variety sometimes.

I just feel that he'd do something fucked up like that, he seems to be more than just an unethical asshole, he seems consciously and willingly cruel to me once looking at some more details, and he is so in a bit of a more personal manner than most of the other antagonists we see.

He did lose a whole lot, his company, his wealth, his possessions, his host, and as a whole a big part of his life. We do have that Grubb proverb at the end cutscene talking about getting his life washed away for being an greedy asshole and exploiting the water basically, which I love, I love when a blorbo gets the consecuences of his actions to bite him back.

I do find his reaction somewhat too calm perhaps? I would be crying and seething and wanting to die and lashing out if that happened to me honestly but I guess he's built different, or maybe he already had sometime to do that and then get it together before he appears on-screen, or maybe it just doesn't hit yet.

(Look at his little arm tip and his tiny suckers, very cute)

Maybe he still has a lot more wealth stored, but will he get to it? He is left literally in the middle of nowhere swimming down a long cold river and I mean he is a little parasitic creature that looks kind of good at just suddenly jumping at any being and taking control of their mind but also he's like, just an actual person and businessman who I don't think he needs to act like a wild animal in his daily life, I don't hold hopes that just some guy with this type of wealth and lifestyle can suddenly survive outdoors that easily. I would LOVE to know what happened to him. Maybe he died soon after eaten by an animal, maybe he died some time later after going through a lot, maybe he went from wildlife host to wildlife host until he got to an unlucky sapient one at last. Maybe he was able to go back to a bigger city and then to wherever else he's from and get some of his life back together, maybe he could not and he was now stuck in a less than nice life in some random isolated place entirely unfit to his lifestyle. Maybe he went through a whole lot of horrible stuff, maybe some Grubbs found him and I don't think that would have ended well for him at all. Who knows, I love thinking about that. You could imagine the best or worst scenarios for him as you wish, it's very fun :)

I love him so I like to imagine that he's moderately fine after going through a lot of horrible stuff :) but you may choose your own favorite fate for him and the consequences to his actions, make him suffer if you want >:)

[childlikegoblinqueen]

SCOM Last Chapter Writing Notes: Affluence, Politics, Power.

Ahhhhhhh! I keep saying this but we're really getting close to end game! I hope everyone is still enjoying the story. I know the fandom's quieted down to a few of us on the couch, but I like it here.

Anyway, thank you all for your continued support. Your encouragement/comments etc are a huge help.

Hunter was "born" into an unkind world altogether. He had one "family" member who trained him to believe that his worth was contingent on how useful and obedient he was -- when in reality he was seen as disposable.

Willow had a loving family, but dealt with bullying. She was born into a world where the ruler seemed benevolent, but was really authoritative and planned on killing her and everyone around her.

They chose to bring a child into a world they thought would be kinder.

Aside from the parenting fears and Willow and Hunter struggling through health concerns for both Willow and their child, a lot of SCOM is about how easily trauma is exploited and how some folks just seem to say and do whatever they want with few consequences.

The New Isles Government was formed to contrast Belos' rule, but it struggles with those who actually AGREED with some of his ideals and those who seem to have no guilt over the aforementioned exploitation if it benefits them.

While Belos had the delusion of being the "savior of humanity", Osran is just the latest in a long of wealthy heirs that believes he is entitled to continuing the empire his ancestors built on exploitation.

There will be a little more on this in the next chapter. Hunter is going to come face to face with his granddaughter, Langwidere (who married Boscha...) and there will be a few surprises there.

But in general, the last chapter features a flashback to the Inner Circle Trials where Hunter overhears Eda lament that a rich guy will always get away with crimes.

Maybe this is a little TOO on the nose, but it's something I feel deeply.

After Hunter is able to fight off his kidnappers in Nommeking he finds himself (and his family) in a strange place where there seems to be Grimwalker History. And not just Golden Guard Grimwalkers.

But of course, Osran shows up before this and flexes his powers in a way that neither Hunter nor the others have ever seen from an oracle.

Of course we know that within disciplines there are different special abilities that can be developed. Darius' Abomination form for instance, which Dana suggested was acquired using unethical magic practices. Perhaps to get revenge for his Mentor's "mysterious" death?

Osran also has power granted to him by his species of demon. He uses a similar magic to Kikimora's sealing spell (they are related, after all) but his version is more brutal. He also is able to remove the life forces of his opponents leaving their bodies husks until he can rejoin the two ... or at least he says he will.

Nommeking is a micro government within the Boiling Isles that rules by affluence. Of course everything eventually has to go to the New Isles Government, but first, crimes committed in Nommeking must go through the Magistrate who chosen from a pool of suggested candidates chosen from a group of Electors made up from the Houses that bring in the most Snails per year to the city. From these candidates, the Magistrate is appointed by the High Oracle.

Osran himself. And before him it was his mother, and her grandfather, and so on and so forth.

Osran doesn't particularly give away the hand he's playing though... but he certainly doesn't believe he will lose. After all, he's an aristocrat.

He also believes he's entitled to something that he was denied a long time ago.

[alexkaneinq]

Cultist's Gamble Round 16

Eric comes by to check in with him the next night, after his shift at the hospital, and Kasper simply has to accept that his sleep schedule will simply never be normal or uninterrupted so long as he's keeping other monsters for company. That's fine, however, because the vampire came to ask about Ristol and to inform him that Penelope was all out of sorts when she was at the lab that night, her mind seeming elsewhere. He shares what Pew told him and hopes that this will, at least for the moment, protect them from Ristol's nosiness. And he's very happy that Eric doesn't ask for another pull off of his veins or mention what happened between them the last time he drank so deeply. Maybe his body is craving a release, but given what the circumstances are, he doesn't know if letting his guard down right now is the best idea. They might have Ristol temporarily off of their backs, but if he finds any break in their defenses, then he could immediately exploit those and leave them struggling to get the upper hand again. He would rather keep things ambiguous until he's sure that Ristol won't be a problem anymore or unless the vampire asks him to clarify where they stand.

He goes back to sleep after Eric leaves, but he is grumbling when, just an hour or two after sunrise, he hears someone on the stairway. He hopes that they're here for Vellum, but he is already rolling out of bed and pulling on a shirt because who else does the Were actually know? And he knows Eric won't be on the other side of that door. Even so, Pew is faster than him and he ends up being the one who opens the hall door when there's a soft knock against it. He hears the hush of voices but can't make out the words as he unlocks his door and opens it. 

Vellum is holding a piece of folded parchment and the steps retreating down their stairs are anything but subtle, it just doesn't stop the other person from all but fleeing the building. The Were turns back to him, yawning himself, his chest bare and showing the tangled knot of his scars across his skin, deep puckered lines of them that tear through the ample muscle of his chest and along his stomach, his sleep pants low enough that he can see the narrowing of his waist and the start of the v between his hips. He yawns and closes the door before he steps closer and offers him the letter. "Miss. Bursk wanted you to have this." 

If Kasper weren't absolutely certain that she wouldn't ever use the illicit magic not ordained by the church, her own faith not strong enough to give her the 'gifts of the gods' then he wouldn't even touch the paper. He can put plenty of bad in a single piece of paper if he wants to. But he knows that her values are too absolute to allow her to use such despicable tools. He takes the parchment and Vellum leans against the wall with another yawn as he flicks it open to read. 

'Kasper, 

If possible, I would like to speak with you privately this evening. If you can accommodate this request, please meet me at the academy gate at five. 

Best, 

Penelope Bursk' 

Definitely her handwriting, and though she's tried, there are still slight smears on the page from her writing, her left-handedness and the fact that she cannot help putting too much pressure on her quill while dragging it too quickly over the page making it nearly impossible for her to avoid the mess. She always was thinking too quickly to get her words down without causing a mess. Five is late enough that the sun will be setting, but he isn't certain he wants Eric anywhere near this. He doesn't know if Ristol put her up to this. 

"You got plans tonight at five?" He asks Vellum. 

"I suspect I do now, but until then, I'm going back to sleep." 

"You can say 'no'." He offers as he moves out of his way so the werewolf can go back to his apartment. 

"You often give me little reason to. For someone who so often acts so self-centered and ruthless, you have made it abundantly clear that you will protect your own kind if they will do the same for you in turn." 

Kasper stares at him a moment, uncertain what to do with such a declaration. He doesn't know how he gave the wolf that impression, but it is a favorable one at the moment, so he does not want to rob him of it and make the Were more resistant to helping him again. But it settles wrongly against his skin to be related to the role of 'protector' in any capacity. That is something noble, something selfless, and kind. He is none of those things. He is a thief and a rot that he will use to corrupt this world too when he can spread it easily through the land. He isn't certain how he could possibly be any of those other things, how their interactions outside of their work could have led the Were to those conclusions whenever one of his possible 'protective' actions have been to serve his own interests first and foremost. But then again, Vellum used to be a man of faith. Maybe he is just desperately looking for something to believe in, and maybe he has foolishly decided the person who now has control over whether he lives or dies should replace that void in his life. Either way, he supposes, if it keeps him behaving without putting the strain on the Were that it was at the beginning, he figures that it's perhaps not the most dangerous thing to allow him to continue believing. 

"I like it better when you don't have much to say. Do you know where the academy grounds are?" 

"The south-east side of the city?" 

"Yes. There is heavy tree cover in the area and the land is not hallowed. If I'm meeting Penelope there for a conversation, I think that it would be beneficial if I had a four-legged friend among the trees to keep his ears and nose out for any possible interference from the guard or fey." 

That seems to wake Vellum up a little more and he tenses, straightening back up. "Why can't I be there as me? I can keep out of sight." 

"Because if someone does spot you, then we'll have a lot of explaining to do. If there's a wild dog in the woods, then no one will blink twice as long as you don't have any reason to come closer or get into an altercation. Besides, you'll be stronger and able to navigate more easily." 

Vellum still doesn't look all that settled, but Kasper doesn't waver. The Were will have to get more used to his new form eventually, and this could help them in the long run. He seems to think over his reasons for protesting, and when he can't find any to give he huffs softly and moves past him into his apartment again. 

"Good dog." 

It is a special new delight that the other man lifts his middle finger to him before the door shuts. 

///

Vellum doesn't come by to eat before Kasper heads out for the meetup, but he heard him leave about half an hour ago, knocking on his door only to make sure he knew the other had left to go position himself in the woods. If this goes well, he thinks he'll get the other something special to treat him for a job well done.

He hasn't gone back to the academy since he arrived back in Remore, and this close to the end of term and the winter solstice, there aren't many people walking the grounds inside as he stops outside of the gate, about ten minutes before the arranged meetup time. The sun is just setting, casting long shadows from the tall spires of the school. The student dormitories look like they've added a new wing onto the building from what he can see, but the rest of the structure is as he remembers. Open grounds encircled by a wrought iron gate, narrow slats of windows through the dorms and large open ones lining the classrooms of the other two halls. He hasn't come back, not out of nostalgia, but he hasn't stayed away because of any form of resentment either. This was simply the place he got his higher education. Once he left it, he had no need to think of it again beyond that, and when he came back to the city, he didn't want to draw attention to his past when Penelope was already suspicious of him, so he stayed away from any of the places that might give her more reason to tell the world what she'd suspected him of when he was younger. 

He hears her boots against the earth. The downpour he sent through the city has had a hard time of being dried away as the weather turned so much colder as winter set in properly after it. They're probably lucky that it hasn't reached freezing temperatures yet or instead of slogging through mud they would have been slipping across the thick ice that would have formed over every street. He turns to see her approaching alone and finds himself startled to see her out of her leathers. She's wearing a long skirt, hitched on both sides to her calves, showing the tall boots beneath, so that the hem won't get soiled in the mud, a thick woolen cloak over her shoulders that is cut to have the longer bottom section and then the shorter capelet on top to give it more movement. He hasn't seen her out of her uniform since he arrived and it does strike him as even more abnormal to see her here, dressed so similarly to how she did seven years ago at this school. 

"Kasper, thank you for meeting with me." 

"Is there something you need from me in particular, Miss. Bursk?" He keeps his tone polite, the way he always does at the bar, but he does not want to get more familiar with her. He doesn't want to forgive and forget. He knows that she has keener eyes than most and that she is a danger to himself... and the others. He tries not to curse Vellum for his comment earlier making that thought slide strangely over his mind because that could take on a more physical attribute if he does.

"We've known each other for years, you can use my first name." She tells him, her eyes not meeting his. 

"Respectfully, Miss. Bursk," he says, slipping slightly with his coolness. "Even back in school, we were never friendly. I don't think that our brief association then should constitute that level of familiarity with one another." 

She looks up at him then and the cold has bitten blossom into her cheeks and over her nose, her dark eyes looking at him in that exacting, calculating manner that he always loathes. He doesn't want her to know him. He doesn't want those eyes scrutinizing everything that he does the same way that they did when he was only just taking his first steps into the occult. He wants to be free of her and he doesn't know why, after what Vellum told him that she said to Ristol, why she would go out of the way to confront him here now. 

"Of course. Then would you do me the pleasure of taking a short walk with me around the grounds, Mr. Kosk? I promise I won't keep you long." 

"I suppose so." He is already here, but he hopes that she isn't planning to take him somewhere Vellum won't be able to follow. 

Luckily, Penelope seems to just want to walk with him around the outer edge of the academy grounds, rather than stepping inside of it. They move along the path and he doesn't know what exactly she is waiting to say, just that he is not going to bring her into idle conversation of his own volition. He wants only to know her business so he can extract itself from it as swiftly as possible. It takes her a few minutes, her eyes on the path in front of them, before she finds her voice. 

"I owe you an apology." 

"For what, may I ask?" 

"After your abrupt departure when we graduated, when the owner of that profane altar escaped the school uncaught, I more than suspected that it belonged to you. I believed that you had gotten away from facing judgment for years and when you returned to the city, I had hoped that your ill-deeds would be discovered and that you would be brought to justice. Grady Ristol is an associate of mine, and someone who I trusted to be able to get to the bottom of things. I hired him to keep an eye on your comings and goings to see if anything strange would happen since you returned." She won't take her eyes on the path and he sees her set her spine to an even more straight and rigid posture. "While I had my right to my suspicions of you, I had no idea how... obsessive and invasive his investigation would become. That amount of scrutiny was unjust and uncalled for, and he should not have ever delved into your personal relationship with Dr. Fernward." 

Kasper considers her apology for a moment. This, at least, tracks more with what Vellum told him about her reaction after he made a scene at the bar. He could be benevolent, telling her that he doesn't blame her for her suspicions and tell her that he hopes that they can put the past behind them. But for as little as they speak to one another, for as little as they did when they were in school, she knew him. She remembers him so fiercely that she did not doubt for a single second that he might still be up to his old tricks even though they hadn't spoken to each other in nearly a decade. That is not the type of person who will believe him if he tells her that all is forgiven with just a handful of remorseful words. 

"I appreciate your apology, but words alone do not wipe away how unsafe Mr. Ristol's actions, on your word, made me feel in my home and at my place of work. I came back to see if this city changed and if it would be a good place to make my home, but now I see that it is full of just as many suspicious, capricious, fear mongering people as it was before." He doesn't keep all of his vitriol out of his words and Penelope seems like she's going to snap if she holds her posture any tighter. "Do you know why, despite how hard you tried, no one was ever expelled or arrested for the supposed altar?" He asks her, moving around so he can stand in front of her and look her in the eyes as he levels his accusations at her. 

"Because there were a few good teachers here who knew that the students were still just kids. They were young and reckless and that sometimes they snuck out to go to the Lich & Hound to drink on Friday nights when not all of their friends were of age yet. They knew that they would cheat on tests sometimes and share their assignments even when they weren't supposed to because they were young, impetuous, and none of those actions were causing any harm. I don't have to ask what you found at that altar because you had me questioned over it again and again. It was some bundles of herbs, a broken talisman, and a pewter bowl with pig's blood inside. Nothing that couldn't be made or bought in town from perfectly reasonable people because none of those things actually do anything in spell work unless someone has a lot of knowledge of how the arcane works outside of what they might know from the church. They questioned me and any other student that you pointed your finger at because you were so loud in calling for something to be done, that they couldn't ignore you-- not because you were right, but because they were afraid you would overreact and call paladins to the city and cause them more trouble. They didn't want you to bring someone here that could ruin that student or student's lives when just like the other small rule breaking, they were probably just trying something stupid because they were rebelling. Nothing," he lets more of his anger leak into his voice, "ever came of it! But your self-righteousness forced them to look! Your inability to see when you are wrong led you to hiring someone who has been harassing me for months!" 

He makes her look him in the eyes as he levels her with his own accusations. Maybe he wouldn't have continued down this path so ardently if she hadn't constantly been trying to get him in trouble for what he was trying to do back then. It hadn't even been a real ritual at the time. It was just something that he and other students heard about at the Lich & Hound. It had practically been a dare, he had just been the very first to decide to try to go through with it. She was right that the altar was his, right that he'd attempted illegal magics, but he was a student. This was the first time he was away from home, and instead of being one of the students who snuck out to drink, experimented with the drugs they could find at the Hound, or who embraced promiscuity, he had rebelled against the church services that had been forced on him with such harsh regimentation for his entire life. What he had been attempting back then had been no more dangerous than a child running around with a twig pretending it was a wand. Sure, now he is guilty of all the crimes that she's accused him of, but aside from reporting back the casual business of the people at the Tired Elephant, he hasn't done any harm to the people of Remore. But he will. He'll bring this entire city to its knees, and he can't say that part of the reason won't be simply to spite Penelope for what she'd made him suffer through his last year of schooling. 

Result: Critical Success!

Bad End Counter: -15

Vellum's Heart Counter: 4 to 6

Though seeing the hurt in her eyes, watching her spine curve under the realization that her actions then and now have consequences so serious, that is something that satisfies the way he has been screaming for some kind of retribution since he came back to Remore and the woman immediately put her nose right back into his business. Good. He hopes that he can put a splinter underneath her skin. He wants her to constantly doubt, wants her to question her every thought and instinct to trust. He wants her to fall apart inch by inch as she realizes that the beliefs and steadfast way she adheres to rules only makes her more prone to straying off course. 

"I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused you." He hopes that will be the end of it, but she tries to find her backbone again. "But rules are in place for a reason. Whoever made that altar broke the law and could have endangered everyone if something had come of it. I needed to make certain that someone was looking for the culprit. Even if nothing came of it, that might have only been because the person saw how serious the consequences for those actions could be." Kasper wants to sharpen his tongue and use it to slit her throat, but she moves on from their school days. "Regardless, I shouldn't have had Grady investigating you when you haven't caused any trouble since you came back to the city." She takes a breath. "I only hope that continues to be the case, Mr. Kosk. Dr. Fernward is an incredibly kind soul and a sharp mind. He is a good man and I hold nothing but admiration for him in my heart. I would hate for his kindness to be taken advantage of and for all of the good that he's done in the city to be wiped away if he were to get involved with someone who believes they're above being held responsible for their actions." 

He doesn't give her an inch, immediately turning the words back on her. "If that's the case, then I should hope that you never are faced with any medical case that leaves you with a sense of ambiguity. I would hate for your bad judgment to lead Eric down a treacherous path." Kasper holds his chin high, "I should also hope, after everything that you have done to make my life so difficult, you could at least do me the kindness of not sitting in my section anymore at the Tired Elephant. If that's all you had to say to me, then I will be taking my leave, Miss. Bursk." 

He isn't sure if she wants to let him go, but she doesn't stop him as he makes his way back to the main road. He hears a twig snap in the trees and looks up to see the dark shape of, he guesses, Vellum moving through the trees. Good dog. He doesn't acknowledge him with more than a glance and after a moment the Were begins to move deeper in the forest. He wonders if he's stashed his clothes elsewhere and what he thinks of Penelope after hearing their conversation. He supposes that when the other man deems it appropriate, he'll find out. For now, he just wants to get to market and pick up his treat. He thinks that the other has more than earned it. 

Start Here | First Round | Previous Round | Next Round | Last Round

[aspiringwarriorlibrarian]

Team RWBY as also "bad protagonists" because they apparently don't affect the main plot or at least aren't constantly driving the main storyline forth at a nonstop pace. Yeah that also baffles me because "team RWBY don't affect the main plot" How? They are the main plot!

I think it's partly motivated by a mentality that they "don't do enough" or "don't do it correctly".

The kinds of things that Team RWBY tends to do are more about the value of small and partial victories, the resilience and healing needed to keep going in the face of relentless evil or failures by forming strong bonds with each other, and the willingness to lean on others and trust others to continue the fight when you've fallen down.

A running theme of most views like the original point was making seems to operate on the notion that the only valuable thing a protagonist should do is big, grandiose absolute victories that fix everything perfectly and put them as the big saviors whom all should respect and defer to.

In other words, a lot like how a lot of people seemed to think Adam and Ironwood would be.

But the series actively skewered and dissects this mentality, with those two being highlighted more and more overtime as being intensely self-righteous at best and downright monstrous because all they really care about is their own grandiose fantasies at the expense of others.

Hell, Ozpin, even if his own goals were better-intended, suffered from this issue for millennia, since his belief that he was the only one who could oppose Salem and fixation on the bigger picture meant that he constantly overlooked how his "perfect world order" was cracking and falling apart at the seams because of the numerous small failings and societal issues he considered to be less important than defeating Salem (whom was smart enough to recognize his bad habits and exploited it ruthlessly), and arguably to the point of overlooking the possibility that his entire quest set to him by his God was likely never intended to succeed in the first place, because his goal was fundamentally impossible.

RWBY is a story about the small victories, how they can inspire others to try their best, even if only a little bit, and how the little things can build and improve to truly enacting change, in ways that grandiose gestures and fixation on bigger glories can overlook, or outright actively harm. How much the small things we do to help others can snowball into bigger and more profound impacts because we as people remember to actually care about others, instead of seeing them as a stepping stone for "the main characters".

And more than anything, that justice and a better world is a living and breathing organism that needs to be cultivated and nurtured with care and compassion, acknowledging and addressing the warts and all of society and that the fight never ends no matter how much people might want a guaranteed "happily ever after". Not forced at gunpoint or by "purging the problems until they go away" by those who think everything should be solved by the egomaniacs with the biggest god complexes.

That's exactly it. This isn't a story where we find a giant superweapon or where we have a series of battles where some win and some lose. Salem is immortal, infinitely patient, and the game is rigged against them. The only way to win is to change the fundamental narrative of Remnant itself. It's a story about broadening your understanding, learning to get back up, accepting yourself. Which often leads to cool battles, yes, because the demons of human nature here occasionally have the form of literal demons you can shoot in the face.

[daybreakrising]

HEADCANONS - THE TWO SIDES OF T.HOMA

so everyone knows the nice side of our favourite housekeeper, the t.homa who knits sweaters for stray dogs and cats, who never turns down a request for aid, who fixes things for people and who knows everyone and everything going on in i.nazuma. the t.homa who enjoys the housework and will do anything, absolutely anything, for the k.amisato family-

-and that's the point. he'll do anything.

there are lines, of course, things he won't do (at least, not without justified cause), but he won't shy away from doing what is... necessary.

and the best thing about being t.homa is... well, people trust him. why wouldn't they? he's a sweet guy, he helps people, he enjoys cooking and cleaning and plays with the children. what's not to trust about a man who worries for the wellbeing of the local strays, who laughs at himself without fear, who takes the time to learn everybody's name, to listen to their troubles?

and he uses that. oh, does he use that.

AN EXPERT MANIPULATOR

his smiles and his charm aren't false - most of the time. but he weaponises both to lure people into a false sense of security, to put them at ease while he methodically breaks down their barriers and finds their weak points, even if he never intends to exploit them. he's made himself into the kind of person someone will happily tell their secrets to, who will look to him for aid or advice, who will unload their problems onto him because he is a fixer and he'll fix it for them.

and all the while, t.homa is keeping track of everything said, of every detail that might one day be important. because t.homa knows things; lots of things.

he has a keen eye for body language; for microexpressions and posture. most closed books are splayed open before him, unable to conceal their true emotions, their intentions, from his discerning gaze. there are those who escape him, of course, but they are few and far between.

because he knows the people around him, because he can read most of them so easily, he is like a puppet master guiding them along the paths he needs them to take. a quiet word here, a suggestion there, an innocent retelling of "idle gossip", and he manipulates people into doing what he needs them to do - and they do it, because it's t.homa. they can trust him, can't they?

part of being a fixer means sometimes getting others to do the dirty work, when you need to be seen with clean hands.

RUTHLESS; RESOLUTE

once given a task, there is little t.homa will not do to see it to completion. he prides himself on being reliable, on having that reputation as someone who can get things done. if the task can be completed in above-board ways, wonderful. but if he needs to utilise some more underhanded methods, he won't hesitate. he does what needs to be done - no more, no less.

and this is not a man who stands down easily. if the job requires it of him, he will be merciless in his pursuit of success. he won't hesitate to step on people to achieve the desired result. and, of course, if the job requires him to... rough someone up, for example, he won't even blink an eye at the violence necessary to send a message - or to remove a problem entirely.

that's not to say he takes delight in causing harm to another person - he doesn't. if something can be done without violence, he will always take the peaceful option first. but he will bloody his hands without hesitation if he has to.

LOYALTY LIKE NO OTHER

once you have t.homa in your corner, you have an ally for life (or until you break his trust, or wrong those he cares for). he will not only throw down his own life to come to your defense, but he will do whatever he feels is necessary to protect you, to avenge you, to help you. this is a man who threw a polearm at a literal god without hesitation, without flinching, without fear (and he'll do it again - he's watching you, ei.)

and his loyalty to the k.amisato estate is the strongest of all. they gave him a home, a family, when he had neither. his loyalty extends beyond a.yato and a.yaka, to everyone who lives and works within those walls, for anyone with close ties to his lord and his lady.

how aware a.yaka is of his darker responsibilities is unclear (this can be discussed with muns if required for interactions), but the majority of his jobs are ordered - no, requested - by a.yato. a quiet word, sometimes only a meaningful glance, and t.homa slips quietly from the estate to see it done. whether it's blackmail, threats, or worse - he won't fail him.

a.yato never asks for the details, and t.homa never gives them. the commissioner doesn't need to know where the bodies are buried to know they won't be found.

[fortressofserenity]

Cartoons vs comics

A case of semantics (at least in the English language so far), where both terms technically and practically refer to the same thing. But I get the impression that it's nongeeks who're likelier to refer to newspaper comics as cartoons, which makes sense because newspaper comics are a type of cartoon. People who do newspaper cartoons are cartoonists, though arguably comic book artists are also cartoonists in a way.

It could be that they see those for what they really are, whereas geeks tend to refer to comic books as comics. But at times they kind of forget comic books' roots in cartooning, when I mean by that, some of the earliest comics artists were proper cartoonists. The overlap still exists in the realm of newspaper serial cartoons, but comic book cartooning is increasingly removed from this. Even though it does make sense to call Superman a cartoon character.

He didn't originate in live action, but cartoon strips really. Similar things can be said of other DC characters like Black Canary and Batman, they never originated in live action but cartooning and illustration. That's being honest in a way, though it's not something geeks tend to use and refer to comics as. But that would mean their idea of comics and cartooning is to treat the two as separate, even though comics is really just a subset of cartooning.

I guess calling comics cartoons implies that these kinds of comics don't have a large geeky audience, something in the lines of Cathy and Baby Blues would inevitably attract normal people. The Cathy and Baby Blues stories tend to revolve around normal lives, problems and situations, whether if it's Cathy's struggle to lose weight or to find love. As far as I remember the former more, that's what I get. But when it comes to comics, they semantically mean something else.

Something like the fantastical exploits of Superman, Batman and Spider-Man, the characters often indulge in colourful fights against villains. They can and do lead ordinary lives, but it's not the predominant focus of the story. It rarely ever is so and often tends to take a backseat to showy fights, though writers miss out on having Spider-Man pick up newspapers with his webs and he could distribute it to a lot of people.

But I guess it's easier to write fights after fights, instead of putting abilities to good use, in the sense that you could have a character pursue a life of weaving when they do weave webs like a spider would. You could have a pyrokinetic character dedicate themself to cooking, especially if they see no incentive to fight whatsoever. Though these stories are pretty rare, if they ever existed at all. But I guess this is why normal people don't read comics.

Let alone comic books, given the stories are almost always fistfights with fantastic skills, not so much stories where you could have weavers who make silk like what silkworms and spiders do. I suspect it speaks to a lack of wider references, as evidenced by how many times Batman has to fight the Joker, Poison Ivy and Mr Freeze. There are likely stories that depart from these, but they are few and far in-between. Rare even.

Although newspaper, book and magazine cartoons aren't any better at times, they do a better job at depicting a wider variety of subject matters. Sometimes these involves church cats, farm cats and the like, sometimes they involve takes on business and current events. But they're far less inbred than comic books are, which is saying. As if comic books are this nearly inbred subset of cartooning, an artistic version of genetic drift.

I feel this is exactly what happened to comic books after they've drifted further away from the greater tradition of cartooning, they've come to specialise a lot in something really specific. Like American comic books have gone from covering a real variety of topics and stories to catering a lot to a rarefied audience until recently, and even then despite how popular American football is it's Japan that's produced a comic book centred on this sport. It's called Eyeshield 21.

Talk about the lack of real storytelling diversity, when most comic books are largely things that interest geeks a lot. But when it comes to real storytelling diversity, newspaper and magazine cartoons have them beat.

[pazodetrasalba]

Vae Victis

Dear Caroline:

Just finished reading yesterday this recommendation of yours. It wasn't bad, but if I am to be sincere, it is up to now the least interesting of your 5 star choices. I imagine this comes as a result of my absence from the world it depicts: what might have been personally relevant for an (ex)finance bro like you is mostly irrelevant for me.

Yes, the book is a bit slow and rambling, and yes, it does accelerate and get more thriller-like once the bids are out (title gives away the resolution, though, if for some reason you had never heard of the RJR Nabisco leveraged buyout in the first place). The cast is too big - I actually benefited from watching the movie adaptation before finishing the book so that I could at least make a clear mental picture of the, say, 10 or so main characters.

One way of reading this book (and the popular narrative at the time of the events) is as a story of greed, with stereotyped and villainous figures (the film is much less nuanced than the book, and really goes full-hog in this direction: Ross Johnson is a a snake charmer wallowing in luxury who'd sell his mother for the right price, and Henry Kravis is literally Count Dracula - nobody does 'slightly creepy old dude' better than Jonathan Pryce), the worst of which are Wall Street bankers and lawyers who are out to make a catch with complete disregard for the well-being of businesses, shareholders, workers and public. This is how I would have read it many years ago, in my Marxist years. Now that I have become attuned to the fact that capitalism and markets are (mostly) good and the financial sector is necessary for keeping our social machine well oiled and running, I'd be inclined to make other readings as well.

On a side note -actually, it's not that much in the sidelines-, schools do a very poor job at pushing forward what is an extremely anti-intuitive but truthful view, first espoused by Adam Smith in The Wealth of Nations, and expressed in your own review as "You think about market participants each trying to maximize their profits, and everyone acting in their own interest ends up maximizing total welfare, and that makes sense in a zoomed-out way, and as far as I can tell is not a crazy model of the behavior of companies". But this really beggars belief until you actually see it: it feels no less stupid and false to a smart teenager than religious dogma. On the contrary, the same teenager who reads The Communist Manifesto will find a very believable narrative of the moral and economic progress of History through class conflict, and if he further pursues some basic readings (and remains, as we mostly do, economically illiterate), will also find the theory of surplus value scientific-sounding and a good basis for accusing all capitalists of being exploiters and thieves.

It is, indeed, nothing short of miraculous that individual egoisms actually end up creating a quasi-optimal arrangement for the most part, but I feel Barbarians at the Gate is mostly showing you the scenario when this doesn't actually happen. That is to say, for RJR Nabisco under Johnson's leadership, and through the LBO, it does indeed appear that (quoting you again):

- there is a CEO, who is a guy - there is a board, consisting of a bunch of guys who are friends with the CEO - they all have fiduciary duties and if they fail to meet them they will get yelled at by a judge in Delaware - ??? - shareholder value gets maximized

Love the ???. Actually, if one goes back to those dull, first chapters at the beginning of the book, we do get a glimpse of how companies manage to turn individual egoisms into positive enterprises. The book dwells a lot on the first years of Nabisco and Reynolds tobacco, on how founders made all the right choices of wise investment and expansion, use of local knowledge, ethics, hard work and know-how, treating workers and shareholders well, taking advantage of rising opportunities... It really reads like a guide on what to do, as contrasted with the relative vacuity of what Ross Johnson actually ends up doing. Does he actually create any positive value? Perhaps his best contribution is his rejection of stability and routine, a chaotic undermining of conformity which might help against the inevitable stagnation of consolidated companies, but that appears to be all he does. Yes, he charms board members and presidents, parties hard and lavishes wealth on executives and board members (including himself). on the face of it, all this doesn't seem at all better than its opposite.

I am not economically savvy enough, but moving to LBOs, I imagine one could make the case for them in that they judge company value more efficiently than markets (as seemed to be the case with the stagnantly low value of RJR Nabisco shares), and in that the debt and diet they impose on their companies trim out the fat, the redundant, the inefficient and (once the debt is paid), end with a more economically efficient company that can survive and thrive in the market better. Like all tools, though, they can be misused, making some people very rich (CEOs, their cronies and the lenders) and a lot of people quite miserable (workers and shareholders) through financial trickery and assaults orchestrated through 'phoney money'. It is all a matter of trade-offs, I guess. Still, I like some of the anti-LBO voices: even though the book has no heroes (Johnson might be an anti-hero of sorts), Ted Forstmann comes pretty close (and btw, he become a signatory of the Giving Pledge in 2011). It's a pity the way he's massacred in the movie. And crypto doesn't feel that far away from junk bonds...

The book did have some lovely snippets of humor (loved the private jet piloting Mr. G. Shepherd to safety). As for your belief that "it is reassuring that the whole system seems to kinda work anyway", I fear it seems to be the wrong lesson to learn from all of this; in fact, the book seems peppered with quotes that are the absolutely worst possible lessons one could take, most of them from the lips of Ross Johnson, about disregarding protocols, logic, reason and checks and balances. Your final quote about rows of figures with millions of dollars that no one knows the proper meaning of is actually quite an ominous note to end the review with, a precursor to the apparently very lax and chaotic management of vastly superior sums of money in FTX and Alameda.

Quote:

"It all started with a small lemonade stand in Manitoba,” read one Johnson parody. “The next thing I knew I had sold my mother. The rest was easy.”

P.S.: Among the things you mention that motivate you, "making guys think I am attractive" seems particularly ill-phrased. You are incredibly attractive, Caroline (both as a person and as a woman), so there should be little need of persuasion, except we usually find that these truths and feelings are seldom commutative.

[emi-writings]

Burning Iron and Honey Sweet Promises: Chapter Six

Some music. Some dancing. Oh, and a brutal battle.

“I didn’t know you could find a musical instrument in a mile of a hunter’s village.”

Wilbur side-eyed the tone that the Unseelie King used but didn’t comment. He had brought his guitar – an instrument he only owned because his brother had managed to sneak one into their home one day for their birthday – as a bargaining chip. He had some things he wanted to interrogate the fae on, and while Q had been pretty open with him in the past, if the fae had decided to betray him, it would be useful to have something to use against him. And music tended to be something the fae enjoyed exchanging for gifts.

Maybe he was being too paranoid, especially after everything he had already trusted the fae with. His name was a far worse thing to exploit compared to his songs, after all. But after that dream, he wasn’t so certain. At least, not until he’s certain that there hadn't been any tampering of his dreams on the fae’s part.

Wilbur placed his guitar down, “I figured I could play us a little tune after a meal. If you wouldn’t mind answering some questions.”

“You can ask me anything you want, cariño,” the fae purred, “You don’t need to bribe me.”

“Cariño?”

Q smirked, “It means honey. And not the food kind.”

“Such a charmer,” he rolled his eyes, which was undercut by the warmth he felt creep up his face.

“You know it, pretty boy,” the other replied.

Wilbur shoved a bowl into the fae’s face, “Just eat your food.”

The Unseelie King laughed a little at that, before he accepted the food easily. It was an odd sight, the Unseelie King seated on a thin, winter blanket – the only thing that Wilbur could easily swipe without anyone noticing during the day – and easily accepted his meal without any bars or chains in the way. The cage remained behind him, with the door wide open.

Wilbur looked away as the King ate, he focused on his own guitar instead. Far, far too embarrassed and shy to watch the fae. He had been unable to procure any fae specific food, at least not without potentially tipping off his family and the rest of the village as to what he got up to late at night. So, instead, he had to get just a little bit creative. But if he had learned anything since meeting the Unseelie King, it was that he was willing to do stupid things for those that he cared about.

“You… are playing a dangerous game, Wilbur.”

The witch looked the fae straight in the eyes, “What do you mean?”

Q’s eyes glowed a bright red as he took another mouthful of the meat stew. Wilbur tried to fight the blush he felt stain his face at the look the fae gave him.

“Sneaking your own blood into a stew?” the Unseelie Fae hummed with a smirk, “Are you trying to test me?”

Wilbur looked away, “You need more strength, and I didn’t have anything better.”

“Oh? Is that so?” The fae’s hand cupped the witch’s cheek and tilted his head towards him, “Is that the only reason though?”

Wilbur felt the way his face burned hotter, “Yes.”

There was a laugh, Q stroked his check before he pulled away, “Sometimes I think you’re intelligent beyond measure, and sometimes I think you’re the most stupid person I have ever met.”

“And you’re as annoying as you are charming” Wilbur retorted.

The fae laughed once more but settled down and returned to his meal. Wilbur hadn’t expected that slipping his blood into the stew would go completely unnoticed, but he did think all he’d get would have been a flirty remark before the fae moved on. No, instead he got thoroughly teased by the Unseelie King who is far too amused by his medical treatment. Wilbur tried to distract himself by tuning his guitar, refusing to make eye contact with the other.

“So, your questions…?”

Wilbur was startled out of his thoughts, “Hm?”

“Your questions, mi amor,” Q smiled with a hint of a laugh, “It would probably be better to ask the question before you try to pay me for it. Then we can see if a song is a fitting payment. How does that sound?”

The witch was once again reminded at how inaccurate the information the hunters had on the fae were. Here, an easy opportunity for the Unseelie King – the ruler of the cruelest of the fae courts – was unwilling to take advantage of him. The fae was sweet to him, regardless of how easy it would be to take advantage of him. It made Wilbur feel even worse for suspecting a fae of being behind his dreams. But he also needed to know if he was being affected.

After a beat of silence, the fae sighed, “I might not be able to answer the question, so it also prevents me from scamming you out of a song… though perhaps I should be the one worried about getting scammed.”

“And what do you mean by that?”

The Unseelie King tilted his head, “If I remember correctly, I told you not too long ago not to offer your blood to any more fae. I believe I am still part of that.”

“I never agreed to anything,” Wilbur countered, and then continued before the fae could argue, “Can the fae influence dreams?”

It was a distraction, and an obvious one at that, but if the truly cared about him he’d go along with it.

“Dreams?” Q frowned slightly, “Yes, some of us can. But it’s not the most efficient way to get what we want, so there is hardly any reason to do so. A fae would have to be desperate to mess with your dreams.”

“Oh…”

“What were you dreaming about? If I might ask?” Q asked.

Wilbur felt his face burn, “Nothing important!”

Wilbur could only imagine how the King of the Unseelie Court would react to him dreaming about himself as a fae. How he would react to dreaming about the Unseelie King in such a way. There is no way he wouldn’t be teased by the flirty little fae. Oh, he would be relentless.

The fae sighed, “Though I’m sure I would be very amused by the contents of your dream, I am actually concerned for you. Would you be alright if I checked for any influence from a fae?”

Right, that meant letting the fae past Wilbur’s personal wards.

The only thing protecting him after he let the Unseelie King past all the wards on the cage.

“Sure” Wilbur shifted a little in an attempt to hide his nervousness.

The fae smiled, “I need a little more than that to be allowed past your wards.”

“Right,” Wilbur blushed and held out his hand, “You have permission, so you’re all good.”

Wards were an interesting thing, in Wilbur’s opinion. A powerful form of protection magic that could defend the user personally or defend their home from many types of danger. However, there was one surefire way to completely bypass wards – invite that which they would usually ward against. So long as Wilbur invited the Unseelie King to pass his wards, those wards would no longer work against him until Wilbur reset them. Of course, at full strength, Wilbur doesn’t doubt that the Unseelie King could easily shatter them. In fact, he would be pretty certain Q could have broken the witch’s wards as he is, Wilbur had been needing to reapply his wards.

But Wilbur had placed trust in the fae, and the fae seemed genuinely concerned when Wilbur started asking about dreams. So, Wilbur offered his hand with little reluctance and waited. The second the Unseelie King brushed his hands against Wilbur, the witch shivered at the warmth that rushed through him at the mere contact.

And then there was fire.

A burning inferno hummed in his bloodstream, boiling his blood and overwhelming his senses. It didn’t hurt, but it was powerful, primordial, and Wilbur nearly knocked himself out when suddenly couldn’t support his own body anymore.

The witch hadn’t fallen back onto the harsh stone of the floor beneath him though. He found himself cradled by Q, dazed as he looked up at the fae that hovered above him. The King of the Unseelie Court looked so amused and fond in that moment, but as the fire burned hotter and hotter, spreading more throughout his body, Wilbur found it harder and harder to think. He couldn’t even get his tongue to move enough to speak to the other.

“You are far too trusting. If another fae was here instead of me…” the Unseelie King sighed, “Well, let’s take a look, shall we?”

The fire – the Unseelie King’s magic – shifted as it weaved its way through Wilbur with more purpose, like it was intentionally seeking something out. The witch stopped focusing on that, however, when he noticed the changes in the small room, they were in. Almost, as if there was steam? But how would that even be possible?

Oh.

Oh.

For fucks sake.

Q only smirked when he noticed Wilbur’s face darkening, “You’re a pretty strong witch, it shouldn’t surprise you that even when you’re cooperating your magic is still playing defensive against an intruder.”

Wilbur tried to convey his annoyance with a look.

Only the King of the Unseelie Court could turn his internal magic reacting with his into something flirtatious.

“I’m only teasing you a bit, pretty boy,” the fae laughed, “If it helps at all, I’m not finding anything unexpected. So, I think we can rule out an outside influence messing with your dreams.”

Wilbur had no idea if that was better or worse than the only other alternative.

The Devil card flashed in his mind, and he tried to ignore those thoughts.

Unfortunately for him, the fae had yet to pull his magic out, “Oh? That’s an interesting combination of emotions at that news. What was this dream about to incite that reaction?”

Wilbur made an attempt to look away, despite how he felt with the fae’s magic still actively burning through his system. It appeared that Q had mercy on him though, and with a small laugh, he just slowly pulled his magic out. Carefully. Like he was trying to ease Wilbur out of the fire he had inflicted on the witch. When the fae finally pulled his hand away, Wilbur found that he needed a moment to collect himself after the intense rush of power and fire that had disappeared from his system.

“Are you alright, cariño?”

Wilbur groaned, “I feel like I was hit by a horse carriage. And also like I could take on an army and win.”

“I’m sorry” and Wilbur could hear the remorse in his tone.

“I’m fine, just whining” Wilbur forced a reassuring smile, though he doubted it came across that way, “So, I’m all cleared of fae high jinks?”

The fae returned the smile, though with very little confidence, “From any outside influences, yes. I was checking for more than fae mischief. If there is anything influencing your dreams, it is coming from you.”

Wilbur wondered what that meant for him. Perhaps he needed to do a tarot reading to better understand his dreams, but he was reluctant to do so. Because a part of him had a hunch. A part of him knew the answer. But he didn’t want to admit it, not to the Unseelie King, and certainly not to himself. It would be a betrayal of everything he stood for, everything he had ever known, everything he was.

“Well, I believe I was promised compensation?”

The witch was dragged out of his thoughts at that. Q wore a teasing smile, though his eyes held a glint of concern. But Wilbur would be a fool not to take advantage of the offer of distraction, and so he grasped it eagerly with his own cocky smirk. Two could play at that game.

 “Oh? Compensation?” Wilbur cocked his head to the side, his own playful smirk not hidden.

The fae leaned forward at that, lips so, so close to brushing against Wilbur’s own, “I’m willing to accept multiple forms of payment from you. Don’t tell anyone though, don’t need them knowing about my favoritism.”

“Well, I’m starting to think you’re not playing fair,” the witch answered, “You know my name, yet I don’t know yours…”

Before Wilbur could even blink, that teasing little brushing of lips disappeared. The fae had pulled back, eyes wide as he stared at Wilbur. It confused the witch, and he worried that he had somehow upset the Unseelie King. That Q didn’t trust him enough to share something that important, that personal with him. But then a flirty smile appeared on his face, and his eyes darkened with an emotion Wilbur couldn’t name – didn’t want to name.

“Wilbur, are you proposing to me?” The King of the Unseelie Court asked.

It was funny how six simple words could completely shatter everything in an instant.

Wilbur found himself feeling faint at the mere mention of marriage. The idea of his hand being bound by cord or ribbon to the Unseelie King. They’d probably be dressed in reds and purples, and they wouldn’t have to worry about the phase of the moon for the wedding. There would be music and celebration without a need for secrecy. There would be food without any limit. And from what Q had told Wilbur about the Unseelie Court, there would probably be an after party that lasted the next couple of months after the wedding concluded. It sounded chaotic and wild. It sounded wonderful.

Wilbur didn’t even realize he was crying until the fae reached out so he could brush away the tears.

“I wasn’t trying to upset you, mi cielo. I was flirting, you don’t have to do anything right now, alright?” the fae whispered so softly.

Wilbur laughed, “I’m not upset.”

“Oh?” Q looked confused.

“This is the first time I’ve been happy thinking about getting married,” Wilbur said.

“Oh…”

Throughout his life, his engagement to Sally had been a burden he had been forced to deal with. He knew what his parents had planned down to the detail. The clothes and charms they had chosen to increase fertility so that Wilbur could have multiple children who would suffer the same fate as he had. The ribbons chosen specifically for what they had hoped would bloom into a loving relationship full of passion and desire. Instead, the only passion that would be in their bedroom would be any woman Sally decided to sneak into it when Wilbur wasn’t around.

And Wilbur had been fine with that. That had been the best he could have hoped for in his life, that he would be in his and Sally’s house casting spells and ignoring his father. That had been enough for him for so many years, the light at the end of the tunnel.

It didn’t feel like enough anymore.

But something else caught Wilbur’s attention the more he thought about it.

“What did you mean? About me proposing?” Wilbur asked.

Q leaned back comfortably, “For fae, exchanging names tends to form a bond between them. It’s a complete surrender, trusting someone to not abuse that power over you. As a result, many fae consider the act of exchanging names the same thing as a wedding. And asking to share names is the same as a proposal.”

Wilbur looked away as those words sunk in, “So the fact that I told you my name, and then asked you for your name…”

“Was an incredibly forward proposal on your part,” the fae teased with a wink.

The witch felt his face burn. Wilbur hadn’t fully grasped the concept back when he had made that teasing remark, but now that it had sunk in, he couldn’t help but get embarrassed by his actions. No wonder the fae had been so taken aback. From his perspective, Wilbur had just done a complete turnaround on his stance on flirting. Still, Wilbur couldn’t say that he was fully against the idea of a marriage between them.

“Do you… not want to be married to me?” Wilbur hadn’t meant to ask that question out loud, but now that he had he desperately wanted the answer.

Within a blink, the Unseelie King was back in his personal space. A taloned hand gently caressed his cheek, as the fae’s eyes glowed a deep red. There was something in those eyes that drew Wilbur in, though he couldn’t name what it was. But it drew him in like nothing else.

“I want nothing more than to steal you away from this village and take you to my court. To see you free to dress as eye-catching as you want without danger. For you to choose to be by my side, but have the freedom to go wherever you wanted,” the fae smiled at him, “And as for marrying you? I would want much more… fanfare than a simple, private exchange of names. I would rather a display that lets the world know exactly how important you are to me. A display that would make it clear that you were mine.”

Wilbur felt a little breathless at that declaration from the Unseelie King. No one had ever spoken about him with such passion and dedication before. No one proudly stated they wanted him. His own fiancée talked about marrying him with reluctant acceptance, but Q… he talked about it like nothing came close to joy he’d feel from the experience.

“Now, I believe I am owed at least a few questions of my own,” Q looked over at Wilbur’s guitar, “First of which, how did you even manage to get your hands on any instrument, let alone a guitar?”

“A gift from my brother,” Wilbur smiled at the memory, “I don’t know how he got it. But one night he woke me up while holding the damn thing, and I’ve had it hidden in my room ever since.”

The fae hummed, his expression unreadable, “Kind of him.”

“Gave me something to do when everyone was out on a major hunt,” Wilbur shrugged.

“And you wouldn’t mind playing me a little something?” Q asked, “Because I would love to hear you play.”

The witch could stop the smile form at that, so he just shook his head and reached for his guitar. Though he had very few options for what to play, most of his songs were depressing at their core. He had only written a few that could be considered happy in any sense of the word. Still, he found himself strumming a tune and singing lyrics that revealed far too many uncomfortable truths about his life.

 “If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought you were a siren,” Q gave an impressed whistle.

Wilbur blushed once again, “You are a menace.”

“Oh, don’t pretend you hate the compliments, songbird,” the fae smirked, “I could be so much worse, and you know it.”

“Songbird?”

Q grinned wicked and lovely, “You like that one? I thought it suited you nicely, songbird.”

“What am I going to do with you?” Wilbur sighed and shook his head, a weak attempt to hide his amusement.

“Well, I do have one suggestion, if you’re up for it?” Q said as he rose to his feet.

Wilbur looked up curiously at him, as the fae snapped his fingers. With little flourish, the guitar left Wilbur’s fingers and started to strum itself. It was a lively tempo, one that called to Wilbur, one that made him almost want to give in and move to the melody. He had danced before; it was part of every new moon ritual. But Wilbur had never gotten to dance to real music, never got to enjoy the passion as he moved to the beat. It was a desire the witch thought he’d never get to indulge.

The Unseelie King didn’t leave the witch’s personal space for too long though, he reached out and offered his hand to the witch. Wilbur accepted the offer and got tugged to his feet, into the other’s arms. They were close, Wilbur looked down at the fae, but that hadn’t stopped the other from placing a hand on Wilbur’s waist.

“Dance with me, songbird,” Q whispered, “Just this once.”

And something primal within Wilbur screamed an answer, “Alright.”

The fae grinned once more at that, and a ripple of magic pulsed through the air. Suddenly, Wilbur found himself in a clearing that was surrounded by nature. Trees decorated with fall leaves and flowers like nerines, camellias, chrysanthemums, and pansies all decorated the outside of a simple ring bordered by colorful mushrooms. A ring that Wilbur and Q currently stood in the center of.

“What?” Wilbur tried to look around but was tugged back to Q by the taloned hand on his waist.

“It’s just some glamor, don’t worry,” the fae chuckled, “The giant cage in the room kind of ruined the mood.”

“That’s understandable…” Wilbur said.

The fae’s eyes gained a mischievous glint, “Want to see something else I can do?”

Magic ran over Wilbur’s skin, but not in a way that triggered his wards. Wilbur found himself dressed in a deep, rich purple fabric that draped and flowed around him. He was also decked out in a crown with dangling crystals, in bracelets, necklaces, anklets and armbands that only added to the look. It was even more extravagant than his new moon ritual outfit. The Unseelie King had used glamor to make himself look similar, though in a vibrant blood red color.

“How’s that for some glamor?” the Unseelie King grinned.

“Q…” Wilbur blushed, “You…”

“Are a menace?”

“Are wonderful, actually.”

The fae gently whacked his shoulder, “Don’t start flirting with me, songbird. I won’t know what to do with you.”

Something fluttered tenderly in his chest. He wasn’t sure what it was exactly, and perhaps it was a number of different things. All Wilbur knew was that he didn’t want this moment to end, that he wanted the fae to smile, that he wanted to know what it would be like to dance with the Unseelie Fae. He wanted to know if dancing with the fae would be different from every time he had danced alone for rituals and spells.

“Just dance with me,” Wilbur smiled warmly.

With that, the Unseelie King led the witch through a gentle but lively foxtrot. And something inside Wilbur soared at the feeling of them dancing together, a part of Wilbur that he had never felt before. Something animalistic and instinctive grew inside him, demanded that Wilbur put in a bit more effort, showed off just a little bit more.

So, Wilbur gave into those desires and tried to show off. Which might not have been a good idea, as the fae seemed to only take that as a challenge to ramp up the pace. Every spin and step felt frenzied and wild. It enchanted the witch, enticed him, called to him.

The glamor only added to the experience. For a moment, Wilbur could smell the scent of pumpkin, cinnamon, pomegranate, and ginger on a cool fall breeze. He could see the way the scarlet, amber and gold leaves glowed in the light of the full moon. He could hear animals shifting and singing in the distance. Yet at the same time, it all almost faded away as Wilbur focused on the man that danced with him.

But there was something in the way the Unseelie King held him, the way he looked at Wilbur that made Wilbur want to pause. Something that Wilbur couldn’t put his finger on but made him uncertain. A sense of the fae being guarded and reserved.

“Is something wrong?” Wilbur asked in a whisper, not wanting to ruin the moment.

Q smiled, “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just trying to not accidentally dance you to unconsciousness.”

“What do you mean?” Wilbur felt himself frown at that.

“Surely you have a rule against that? No dancing with fae?” Q laughed as he spun Wilbur again, “We can dance and dance for days on end. There are myths and legends of the fae doing so to innocent humans just for their own amusement.”

“I’ve heard them. But not everything I’ve heard about fae has been accurate” Wilbur replied, a little breathless.

The fae gave a teasing smile, “Well, it’s not nearly that simple, but it has happened. However there is another reason why it’s a risk.”

“And that is?” Wilbur whispered.

“In the Unseelie Court we have a lot of celebrations and festivals. Fuck, we’ll take any excuse to party we can. As a result, we have a few traditions,” the fae leaned forward, his lips against Wilbur’s ear, “For lovers? There’s a fun little challenge they can take part in. They can dance with each other, until one of them passes out in the other’s arms. It’s considered the height of romance for Unseelie Fae.”

Wilbur made a breathless noise.

Q continued “It’s so tempting, you know? That desire and passion is there, and my own instincts aren’t helping. It’s natural for Unseelie Fae to give into those feelings without a second thought. Could you imagine it, songbird? Imagine what it would be like? To dance with me until you can't anymore.”

“I… Q…” Wilbur’s face burned.

“Don’t worry songbird,” Q chuckled, “I have no intention of doing anything like that tonight. But I think you would love the festivals of the Unseelie Court. The music, the lights, the passion. You’d be able to charm everyone with your voice.”

The fae sighed wistfully, “You would be stunning if you danced though. I still remember how you danced on the night of the new moon. Do you practice often? You have more skill and grace than someone who only dances once a month.”

“I do…” Wilbur admitted, “Privately, in my room. I’m not really supposed to dance just for the sake of it.”

“The fae are different. Both courts value dance and music as a way of life,” Q seemed almost lost in thought, “The Seelie Fae are insane, in my opinion. Went to a Seelie wedding once, found out that apparently they spend years, sometimes decades, choreographing and practicing the perfect dance for their weddings. And you have to sit there and watch the entire thing. That’s Seelie Court for you, they see art as the end result of hard work.”

“We’re different. There’s no choreography. There’s no decade of practice. We see the process of creation as true art, and dancing is the same. It’s pure passion and excitement,” the fae continued, “Challenging your partner to see who can last longer, dancing until one of you passes out? That’s a display of trust, vulnerability and passion.”

With that, the Unseelie King twirled them once more, and Wilbur lost himself in the smooth, gentle movement between them. The music was a beautiful, romantic tune that made the world almost fade away between them. And all Wilbur could think about was whether or not he should lean in closer and press his lips to the fae’s own.

Trust. Vulnerability. Passion. Wilbur could see where the other was coming from.

“I would dance with you every night if I could, songbird” the fae’s smile turned almost yearning.

Wilbur hummed thoughtfully, “Well, maybe you should stop holding back so much right now?”

“Wilbur…” Q’s face became unreadable, “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I trust you,” Wilbur smiled.

“You shouldn’t… not with this… I don’t even trust myself with this.”

Wilbur leaned in, almost brushing his lips against that fae’s own, “Please. For me.”

Q sighed, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, songbird.”

With that, the King of the Unseelie Court adjusted his grip and pulled Wilbur in close. Then the pace of the dance completely changed. The difference was present immediately, the fae moved with passion, grace and speed that was almost inhumane. It was dizzying, intoxicating, and Wilbur felt a familiar warmth run through his veins. It filled his head with warmth and honey, made it harder and harder to keep up with the fae.

Everything felt so strange and wonderful.

The Unseelie King’s laugh echoed through Wilbur’s head as the fae twirled him. The background became a psychedelic mess of red and orange and yellow blurs. He felt like there were patterns being traced into his skin by invisible talons, patterns that made him shiver in delight.

“Having fun?” Q teased, his voice layering over itself like an ethereal chorus.

Wilbur tried to reply, but all that came out was an incoherent mess of sounds.

The fae laughed, “I did warn you, songbird. At least you haven’t passed out yet.”

Little orbs of lights danced around them, in the red, black, and purple of the Unseelie Court. The sounds of birds chirping, tweeting, singing in a chilling chorus. Mist coiled around Wilbur’s feet, and the plants twisted and warped into strange and fascinating flora the witch couldn’t recognize. Flowers that glowed like lit torches and blue and purple flowers that looked big enough for Wilbur to fit inside.

The fae purred in wicked delight, making the honey warmth in the witch’s body boil in pleasure. Every point of contact between the two of them felt more intense, yet also strangely distant, like Wilbur wasn’t fully in his own body. He felt like a marionette, being tugged by invisible strings to tango along to the music that echoed around him.

Wilbur didn’t remember closing his eyes.

Wilbur woke up in his bedroom. Which usually wouldn’t have been strange, but with the memories of the previous night lingering in the back of Wilbur’s mind it just leaves the witch in a state of panic. He had passed out while dancing in the Unseelie King’s arms. The fae he had left out of the cage, not even tied up. The fae who clearly was able to get past the other wards if he was the one who returned Wilbur back to his bed.

That was the worst wakeup call he could have gotten.

The witch immediately dragged himself out of bed and rushed through his usual morning routine. He noticed nothing out of the ordinary except for his guitar, tucked away under his bed rather than his usual hiding place under a pile of clothes in his closet. And the fact that his personal wards for his bedroom had been completely shattered. Which only further pointed to it being the Unseelie King who tucked him into bed the previous night.

There was only one concern on Wilbur’s mind: did Q take advantage of the opportunity to escape?

A part of Wilbur argued that he couldn’t feel so hurt or betrayed by that. It was the logical decision, and the safest one as well. The fae was being tortured by his own family. But a part of Wilbur still held out hope that Q had decided to stick around, despite how horrible and foolish it would have been. A part of him hoped that the fae considered Wilbur important enough to risk sticking around so that they could spend more time together, despite the danger.

How selfish could he be? To demand someone risk a painful death just because of Wilbur’s own romantic feelings?

How stupid and naïve is Wilbur to expect the King of the Unseelie Court to be someone willing to do that?

“Lapis? I’m coming in.”

Wilbur turned around and tugged his mask over his face as Technoblade walked through his door, “Gold, what are you doing here?”

Technoblade closed the door behind him and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, “Are you alright? You woke up late this morning.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just had trouble sleeping last night, I guess,” Wilbur replied.

“Bad dreams? Or is it something else?” Techno asked.

Wilbur laughed awkwardly, “It’s nothing, honestly. It’s getting colder is all, I just need more blankets. Did you need anything? Is something wrong that I don’t know about?”

“I’ve just had a feeling…” Techno trailed off and then shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. Do you want to read my tarot cards?”

That wasn’t a sentence Wilbur had heard from his brother in a long, long time. In fact, Wilbur couldn’t remember when the last time Technoblade had asked for ready was. When his twin wasn’t hunting down fae, he was training. And when he wasn’t training, his nose was buried in one of the many, many hunter journals, studying up on better methods of dealing with fae, if not inventing his own methods of dealing with them. He just never had time to sit still for a simple card reading anymore.

Which was fine, of course.

Wilbur understood the importance of what Technoblade and the hunters were doing.

He was fine.

“Sure… What brought this on?” Wilbur said as he gathered his tarot cards.

Technoblade sighed, “I’m not sure yet. I just know something is up, but I don’t want to make a big deal out of it if it’s all in my head.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Wilbur replied as he gestured to a small table kept in his room specifically for this purpose, “Take a seat, let's see what the cards have to say.”

“Right. I don’t really have a specific question, so I’m not sure what spread would work” Technoblade said as he sat down.

Wilbur shrugged and sat across from him, “I was thinking a simple five-card general reading. We can go from there if your questions aren’t answered.”

Wilbur shuffled the tarot cards, well-practiced at this point, before he laid out the cards in a simple five card spread. A five-card spread was adaptable, it could be for anything one wanted it to be. For this one, Wilbur didn’t have a meaning in mind for the card positions. It was simply just to get the feel for whatever it was that had been troubling his brother, to see if the cards had any general insight.

When Wilbur finally felt he had shuffled the cards enough, he placed the five cards face down on the table and looked up at his brother, “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I am,” Technoblade answered resolutely.

The witch flipped over the first card, “Ten of Wands. A card that symbolizes the carrying of a huge burden, potentially one that you might not need to. It can also serve as a gentle reminder to put yourself first, and to not take on the responsibility of helping others. Don’t be afraid to ask for help, or to set down this burden. On the positive side, it also lets you know that soon that burden won’t be bothering you anymore, and you can set down that load.”

“I get the feeling that it’s not just the card trying to say that,” the hunter muttered.

“The truth hurts,” Wilbur countered before he flipped over the second card, “The Moon. This can imply that you’re in a period of time where nothing is as it seems. A time of illusions and uncertainty. Be careful when making decisions, you might not have all the information you need. It can also represent a time of heightened fears and emotional distress.”

Technoblade nodded, his face kept unreadable, “And the next card?”

“The Tower. An inevitable, unexpected upheaval. Destruction and chaos you have no choice but to surrender to,” Wilbur frowned, “I’ve been pulling this card a lot lately…”

“Oh, well that’s reassuring,” the hunter rolled his eyes.

Wilbur gave a half-hearted glare, “It’s not guaranteed to be the same thing! When mother read my cards, it didn’t appear at all! And technically The Tower could be pointing to a good thing. It’s in the middle of the spread, maybe it’s signifying a turning point.”

“Want to bet?” Technoblade asked, a hint of smug amusement in his tone and a slight smirk tugging at his lip.

“Absolutely not!” Wilbur turned over the next card, “The… Ten of Swords…”

“I’m no expert, but the picture of a man with ten swords stabbed into him makes me think this card might not be a happy card,” Technoblade continued.

“Technically it is good! It makes a painful, yet inevitable ending. A painful ordeal that will no longer affect you. You know, the night is darkest before dawn kind of thing. It’s also a card of betrayal, loss and crisis, but not all of those necessarily apply” Wilbur said.

“Well, when you put it like that I must be mistaken!”

Wilbur rolled his eyes, “I could use a little less attitude.”

“Sorry. Please continue this amazing reading,” Technoblade gestured to the cards.

The witch flipped over the final card, “The Hanged Man. A card all about surrender and letting go. Whatever it is you’re holding onto, whatever it is that is worrying you, this card is telling you that the best thing for you to do is let it go.”

“And if I can’t do that?” Technoblade asked.

Wilbur gestured to the spread, “I don’t think you’re really getting a choice here. These cards seem to be pointing out that it’s all out of your hands.”

Technoblade glared at the cards, before he sighed, “Wilbur—”

And though Wilbur could tell his brother was about to say something serious, that he might never get the same moment of vulnerability from Technoblade again, something else caught Wilbur’s attention. The outer wards, the wards that surrounded the furthest border of the hunter village, completely shattered and Wilbur couldn’t help but stand and look over in the direction he felt them shattered.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” Technoblade asked as he rose to his feet.

“Something is coming,” Wilbur said as he felt the next ward, one much closer to the village, shatter, “Something powerful.”

As if the universe wanted to prove him right at that moment, Wilbur heard multiple roars in the distance rapidly approaching. It was followed by multiple shouts around the village, and the witch had barely had time to turn around before Technoblade had run out of the room to join the other hunters.

There was no shortage of hunter weapons lying around his family home. So when Wilbur chased after Technoblade, he made sure he wasn’t unarmed before he ran into the fray. He might not have been taught at the same level as his twin, but he was confident with the iron short sword he had picked up.

It was clear the second that he reached the doorframe what had made that loud roar as an Unseelie Chimera tore its way through not only the protective wall, but the wards casted on it. The icy blue dragon head bellowed before releasing cold breath that froze anyone unfortunate enough to be in its path, as the head of a white bear and a snow leopard growled and roared in fury. There was no time to focus on that, not when it was followed by an army of Unseelie Fae after it.

Almost immediately Wilbur found himself distracted when two enfields tried to swoop at him, one that looked like a snowy fox with snowy owl wings and talons, and another that looked like a red fox with barn owl wings and talons.

“Air, come to me!” Wilbur called, and a gust of wind swirled around him, battering the creatures out of the way as he ran.

It was hard to grasp the full scope of the Unseelie Court’s forces in the village, the maze of houses, forges and other buildings made it hard to get a proper view. And since the fae had clearly targeted the lookout towers first, judging from the absence, Wilbur supposed that no one had an understanding of the fae forces.

The few hunters that were around him were dealing with the lesser fae easily, having been trained to deal with much more powerful threats, so Wilbur ignored them for the most part. He wanted to get further into the village, though the maze of alleyways and buildings, to where he suspected the more dangerous fae were. He didn’t want to fight the Unseelie Court, but if he could limit casualties, he intended to do so.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel remorse for the simple fae beasts, they really stood no chance against the hunters that fought them.

But there wasn’t anything Wilbur could do for them without getting himself killed for treason.  

“Lapis!”

Wilbur turned and saw a group of three hunters had run after him, “We need to get you to a bunker!”

“A bunker?!” Wilbur pulled away when they tried to grab him, “Are you kidding me? You want me to wait in an iron box?!”

“Your father gave us strict orders to get you there by any means necessary,” one of them answered as he managed to get a grip on Wilbur’s arm and tug him away from the danger.

Or, at least, that was what Wilbur had thought until they rounded one of the buildings and stood face to face with a fae.

The fae looked like an ordinary man for the most part, except for the moss green hair, and occasional patches of moss on his skin. And his black eyes that bore into their souls. His armor looked like thorns carved from obsidian, and in one of his four hands was a wicked trident, paired with an imposing dark sword.

Faster than his eyes could track, the fae threw his trident and impaled two of the hunters that had tried to escort Wilbur, with his sword expertly blocking the attempted attack from the remaining hunter. And though maybe Wilbur should have tried to save him, should have warned him of the axe the fae pulled from his back, only one thing came to the witch’s mind.

“Earth, come to me!” Wilbur called as the fae decapitated the man in front of him, “Bind him!”

“What the fuck?!” was all the fae could manage as within seconds trees burst from the ground and wrapped around the fae, which left him restrained and unable to move.

A few months ago, Wilbur would have taken the opportunity to get a free shot and slay a fae. Now, all Wilbur could think about was the Unseelie King. So he ran instead. He ducked under a few more attempted swoops of some more enfields and ran through the fae and hunters locked in combat.

Wilbur rounded another corner in between buildings and saw a large, almost giant, golden man that had lightning crackling around his arms, which he threw at hunters, rendering them into nothing but piles of ash. When the fae noticed him, he grinned.

“Oh, it’s not your lucky day!” the fae giggled of all things.

But before either of them could do anything a torrent of water burst from behind Wilbur and into the fae. Wilbur was equal parts shocked and confused, but the fae was no longer anywhere in sight. He looked around, but there was no way a fae would have helped him out. Could that have been him? There was no way, right? Witch magic worked on intention, and he hadn’t even thought about summoning water to himself, let alone using water offensively like that.

A loud laugh dragged him out of his thoughts, “Deserved! Oh, that was perfect!”

The witch looked up as a fae in a cloak with inky black skin and white glowing eyes looked down at him from a rooftop, “Who are you? What do you want?”

“Straight to the point I see,” the fae sighed, before he dropped down to Wilbur’s level… Did he shrink?

The fae’s tail flicked casually behind him, “Look, we’re here for our king. If you want this to end, you just got to tell me where he is. You don’t even have to be there! I can go get him, and we’ll all leave like none of this ever happened.”

“He didn’t escape?” Wilbur didn’t know how to take that news, but something warmed bloomed in his chest at the thought of Q choosing to stay with him.

“Why would you think he escaped?” the fae asked as he tilted his head curiously.

“Lapis, run!”

Wilbur looked over as he saw another hunter rush towards them. The Unseelie Fae groaned before he changed. Suddenly he was taller, and his hands warped into the shape of claws, his tail longer and sharper and accompanied by large bat-like wings on his back.

“It’s incredibly rude to interrupt a conversation!” The fae hissed as he backhanded the hunter through one of the walls.

And as more hunters noticed the fae’s presence, Wilbur took that as his cue to get out of there.

The witch dashed past the fae, who sputtered out some kind of weak protest, and weaved through the buildings. He made the decision to completely pass the alleyway covered in a mysterious, slimy green substance that seemed to dissolve everything it had made contact with, and instead found himself on the outskirts of the village.

It was quiet. Too quiet, given the circumstances. Not a single fae was in sight, Wilbur couldn’t hear the usual sounds of nature. It unsettled him. He felt the warmth of magic well up inside him, his hand rested on the hilt of his short sword, prepared in case he needed to face off against something dangerous and powerful all by himself.

“What are you?”

Wilbur turned around and saw a short female fae. She had hair that began as a vibrant pink before it faded into a rich violet. Two draconic horns decorated with amethyst rings peaked through her hair. Her skin was covered in patches of black and violet scales, and her fingers tipped with large black claws. She wore a simple black dress, accompanied by amethyst jewelry. The most interesting thing about the fae, however, was the shadows that coiled around her. So similar to the shadows that Wilbur had seen on the Unseelie King briefly.

“What do you mean?” Wilbur countered as he slowly tried to inch away.

“You’re not a hunter, you have magic,” the fae said, “What are you?”

Wilbur frowned, “I’m a witch. Surely that’s obvious enough.”

The fae tilted her head, “But you’re no ordinary witch. How are you so strong?”

Wilbur didn’t know how he was supposed to answer that, his only guess that the time had had spent with Q the night before had provided him with extra magical strength. But he was reluctant to admit that to the other fae. Instead he wondered how he could get away with using his magic on the observant fae. He didn’t get the chance to, however, as the shadows that had been coiled around the fae suddenly swelled up to twice their size, pulsating almost before they leapt directly for him. 

The witch cried out in panic as the darkness swirled around him. Frantically, he tried to find his way out from the vortex of shadows and void. He felt it freezing against his skin, wispy and smoke-like, yet also colder than mid-winter’s snow. His vision was blocked out by the dark magic. Or, at least, what he thought was dark magic. Unseelie Magic? He’s not certain. 

It was so overwhelming it almost knocked him down to the ground. 

Who are you? 

Multiple voices chorus in his head like a symphony of the damned. Some laughed wildly, some whispered eerily. Some voices sounded young, some of them were old, some of them didn’t even sound human. It all echoed in his mind with no way for him to escape from it. 

There was nowhere to run. 

What are you? Who are you? Magic, magic, power. Aren’t you unique? Aren’t you rare? Interesting magical alignments. Water. Winter. But not one of ours? Interesting. Fascinating. Human. Human? Certainly human. But magic. A witch? Oh we do adore those. 

Instinctively the witch wanted to cover his ears, even though he knew it would be a feeble attempt to try and block out all of the voices and the noise that came with them. It was too much, far too much. But his arms wouldn’t move. His legs wouldn’t move. Nothing would move, could move, he was completely frozen as pitch-black darkness curled around his arms and slithered up to his shoulders. 

You’ve seen our king. You know our king. Intriguing. Thrilling even. How exciting! Exciting! Exciting! Exciting!

An image flashed in his mind, the Unseelie King smiling his charming smile.

…Q? 

Yes! You do know him! Might be more than just knowing… Oh he likes you! I can see why, powerful little witch. Courting? A courtship? Maybe. Potentially. Perhaps. How do you know our king, little witch? 

Wilbur was overwhelmed. Terrified of the unknown darkness that completely swarmed him. 

“Air, come to me!”

Wilbur felt the wind blow the shadows away. Warmth returned to his skin and a weight he hadn’t previously noticed lifted. They didn’t dissipate, and instead returned to the draconic fae who stared at him with a look of complete shock. Wilbur couldn’t help but feel as if he had returned the look himself, the aftereffects of what just happened still in his system.

He couldn’t even begin to comprehend what had just happened, the lingering cold bringing an involuntary shudder to the witch. 

For a moment, it was silent. Neither of them moved, neither of them spoke. 

It was like even the air had gone completely still.

“What the fuck was that?”

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