#could be a metaphor for being surrounded with things that look helpful at first sight but actually won't do you any good

[shiniestcrow]

Sometimes you listen to a fun song and think well this might make a good metaphor even if it's not intended as one

[givehimthemedicine]

how 4 sets the scene for Blind Max

another reason I suspect she'll have a blindness arc continuing into/through 5 is that I've been thinking about how Max's season 4, from its very first to very last second, lays groundwork de-prioritizing sense of sight for her and often shifting importance onto hearing.

on the surface, this is all just aspects of her depression/curse experience this season, but it all has the side effect of helping prepare her for blindness.

let's go:

do you wanna hear about the deal that I'm making? 🎵

Max's s4 begins with her shutting out the world around her to focus on her music all the time,

and that's before it's revealed to be a very literal lifeline. the special power of music here places enormous importance on sense of hearing (which has also benefitted Will, Victor, and the other Pennhurst inmates)

(deaf Vecna victim: "guess I'll die")

Lucas's basketball game

Max not wanting to attend the game was about not wanting to be seen by Lucas, rather than not wanting to see Lucas. she has no problem seeing Lucas - check out those heart eyes at the pep rally but only when he isn't looking.

she doesn't not care about him. she's just hiding from him.

so they could easily have established Max secretly caring via a scene where she does attend, watching but staying out of sight. maybe it turns out she refused his ticket because she actually already had one. or maybe she gets a ride from Eddie and gets to the gym and reaches for a door handle and hesitates and goes home instead.

instead they chose for her to keep tabs on Lucas without seeing the game at all, by listening instead. (looked upon by a poster with giant eyes lol)

not only tasty as a foreshadow, but a great little touch to set up Max knowing that her connection/enjoyment of her friends and awareness of what's going on doesn't depend solely on her ability to see.

bonus: her only line in that scene? "alright, I hear you" (because that dog barks)

shutting her eyes

Vecna doesn't blind his victims (well. not at the beginning) but instead forces visions upon them, so instead of their actual surroundings they see horrifying things, both literally and in a depression-metaphor way.

anyway, how does Max escape Vecna in DB? she shuts her eyes to the darkness he's forcing her to see, and focuses on the light - the love of her friends - which she knows to be the truth.

that worked the first time, and it worked again to escape the Creel house vision.

where it failed was at the snow ball, I think because Vecna got too much in her head by talking to her, and she couldn't concentrate. (the other two times he didn't talk to her while she was trying to hide in her memories, but this time he won't shut up).

after that, she seems to have given up on shutting her eyes, maybe because Vecna has figured out to target her hearing. because at the next attempt, her eyes stay wide open, and I think she would've been killed except for El interrupting. the third time, her eyes stayed open and she was killed.

avoiding eye contact

4 Max carries on a considerable chunk of her conversations staring off to the side, especially when the topic is herself.

not that this is unique to season 4 or to Max - people just tend to avoid eye contact when uncomfortable. for example, Max barely looks at Lucas throughout the s2 heart to heart on the bus either. this is just part of Sadie's portrayal of Uncomfortable Vulnerable Max, and Max is just that way a whole lot more in 4 than in prior seasons due to being depressed.

still, the end result is Max having her most important conversations with limited visual emotional cues from the other person - a trend that will obviously continue if she's blind.

relatedly, Max was able to deliver two deeply emotional and personal monologues (a supremely uncomfortable task for her) no doubt aided by the fact that her audience wasn't there to make eye contact with:

and like I've talked about before, right after her first Vecna survival, Max grabs and holds Lucas, and hears/responds to him, but it always struck me as weird that at NO point in this scene does she look at anyone:

hm.

relying on her friends' sight

thanks to the visions, Max is starting to find her sense of sight unreliable. so although nothing is currently wrong with her eyes, this puts her in a position where she's already learning to stop relying solely on her own sight, and to consult with her friends and listen to what they say they're seeing when she's unsure.

which she'll be doing a lot more of if she's blind.

not to mention the big plan with Lucas - his whole job is to keep an eye on her and "call in Kate Bush" when it gets too dangerous. so, literally trusting her life to his sight and her hearing.

losing her sight

in the end of course we arrive at literal blindness. Max can't see or feel anything but apparently can hear Lucas.

not sure what to make of potential paralysis (I don't think they'd both permanently blind and paralyze her) but that's where we stand now - with hearing as Max's last known working sense.

which is why we end on Lucas reading to her in hopes that she can hear it. if Max does wake up blind, you can bet that being read to will become one of her primary sources of entertainment. I could totally imagine Max not being ready to withstand a lot of heavy personal conversation, but still wanting to take comfort in her friends' voices.

anyway. losing her sight would be devastating of course, but I like that they've had Max placing major value on her hearing while she still has her sight instead of leaving the entirety of the conversation for when she's blind. and I like that they've had Max already start learning to trust those around her for support.

[birdy-the-artist]

Bloodstone drabbles

Desert

A thin figure limped along a dusty, cracked road. Sweat had plastered her dirty blonde hair to her skull, and the unforgiving sun had painted her flesh a boiling red. Even with the acquisition of a bloodstone, the light of day still wreaked havoc on Claire's senses, and she hadn't yet been changed for long enough for those senses to dull and die away. She was almost shocked to find she even could still sweat, though perhaps it was a sign of whatever lingering humanity she had left attempting to squeeze its way from her pores and escape into the desert air like ghosts in the wind. 

Whether metaphorically or literally, it was a possibility she was beginning to believe.

Fortunately, she no longer needed water to survive, or she'd have died hours ago. Unfortunately, she did require blood, and the rumbling of her stomach served as a grave warning. She'd need to feed soon. Lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the sun, she took a moment to survey her surroundings. There were what looked like mountains wobbling faintly in the scorching distance, rocks and scrubby grass covering the stretch of land between them. A tarantula stalked lazily across the ground on the other side of the road, and Joshua trees swayed gently in the faint breeze.

Claire had no idea where she was.

She could at least deduce that this place qualified for the esteemed title of bum-fuck nowhere, yet another familiar plane of rocks and shrubs and nothing for as far as the eye could see. And that was bad. If there was anything she'd learned in her eighteen years on this earth, it was that not knowing one's own location was very, very bad.

It was another few hours before she came upon a blessed sight- the first sign of humanity's existence in what felt like ages, beyond the blazing hot asphalt of the road beneath her feet. The sun bleached visage of a personal injury lawyer smiled blithely into the endless, rocky, scorched oblivion. Of course, Claire had no need of his services at the moment, not beyond whatever meager shade she could get from his billboard… Or whatever meager information regarding her whereabouts she could glean from it.

Injured in an accident? Call Michael Morrison, Nevada's #1 personal injury lawyer! Serving Las Vegas for over 15 years!

Las Vegas. That's where she was… Or at least, that's where she was in the vicinity of. She could've fallen to her knees right there and cried, thanking this beautiful man, Personal Injury Lawyer Michael Morrison, for his dearly needed help. And, as if things couldn't get any better, a glint on the horizon caught her eye, signaling the approach of a car. With a drawn out and exhausted sigh, Claire stuck out her thumb.

No Hitchhiking

(Idk who this dude is but maybe I will one day)

Prison Area, Hitchhiking Prohibited.

He could no longer spit, but if he could have, he'd have left a nice wad at the sign's base. He did let out a dry chuckle at the sight of it, though. As if that sign would stop him. He'd been locked up before, and he'd be locked up again, and if he knew anything, it was that nothing could stop him.

Oh, he'd enjoyed playing pretend for a bit. He'd been a good little prisoner, staying in his cell and following all the silly rules they set in place for him. So, even when men began turning up dead in the showers, a shiv in their throats and their veins dried of their fluids, nobody suspected a thing from him. Prisoners often died in petty squabbles, and petty squabbles happened every day. Most of the men were in for life or on death row, so another notch in the belt meant nothing. Among those with nothing left to lose, another life meant nothing.

Of course, that was as far as the guards were aware, but unfortunately- or fortunately, for the intrepid stranger- humans had a charming little habit of underestimating superior beings.

He'd grown tired of his game of pretend. The downtime was nice, as were the free meals, but the guards' attitudes were beginning to grate on him. It only took him a few seconds to grab one of them and drain him completely before turning his attention to the next. Chaos had erupted in the mess hall, and before he knew it he had four more bodies at his feet. With a surge of energy that only such sustenance could bring, he made his way through the halls.

He loved it when they shot at him. He loved the looks of fear and bewilderment plastered across their faces when he took five bullets in a row and kept walking with barely a reaction to them. And just like that, he was out in the cool desert night, with a path of bloody destruction left in his wake. 

Nobody was certain of what exactly had happened that day, and nobody wanted to discuss it. How could they, when what they'd witnessed was so outlandish? How does one put precautions in place to stop the escape and rampage of a bullet proof man with the strength of ten? So the 1985 incident at the Southern Desert Correctional Center was quietly swept away, never forgotten but never quite spoken of. Rumors began that it had been a riot, but those who were there still knew better.

Only In Vegas

Reanne hated Las Vegas. There wasn't a city on God's green Earth more worthy of a smiting, as far as she was concerned. The place attracted trash like bees to honey, or, as was a more appropriate analogy in her mind, like flies to shit. Take, for example, the faerie currently trying, oh so sneakily, to pick Reanne's pocket at this very moment. 

She seemed to think she was being so very clever, dusting herself in copious glamours to hide her more fae-like attributes, but anyone who knew better could spot her from a mile away. She sat at a slot machine before apparently pissing away whatever cash she had on her, then immediately draped herself over the first man to walk by and whispered honey-soaked words of flattery and praise as she covertly begged for more money to feed the machine. And of course he'd fallen for the ruse. Human men really didn't have anything to speak of when it came to brains… Or, perhaps, some of them just saw tacky blonde hair and low cut dresses and couldn't help themselves.

Much to Reanne's chagrin, the pair had made their way to the bar where she was sitting and mulling over an extra dry dirty martini. She ignored them, deciding it wasn't any of her business if a man wanted to allow a pixie to drain his soul and life savings away in exchange for the mere promise of a night together. Unfortunately, the stupid pixie in question wasn't ignoring Reanne. She had her eyes fixed very intently on the purse that hung from Reanne's thin shoulder, and with a subtle flick of her wrist, a twenty dollar bill dislodged itself from the little bag and floated into the air. The blonde faerie quickly snatched it with a smug look of triumph, before her own wrist was snatched. Letting out a yelp, the fae was met with a pair of very put out red eyes.

"That ain't yours, fae."

The faerie tried in vain to wrest her arm from Reanne's grip, but the vampire wasn't letting up. Finally, she let out a nervous chuckle. "Sorry, is this yours?" she asked, her voice annoyingly high pitched and sickeningly sweet. "It fell out of your purse, I was just-"

"Cut the shit," Reanne snapped, snatching the bill from the faerie's fingers. "You try that again and I won't be so friendly. Now piss off." 

The faerie's sickly sweet smile twisted immediately into a bitter scowl, and she turned away with a flick of her hair and an indignant, "hmph!" The man she'd been accompanying turned to the empty space she'd left with a confused raise of his brow, two drinks in his hands. Reanne turned back to her own drink with a growl, but she could barely take a sip before she heard yet another grating voice to her left.

"Damn, you really showed her!" A scruffy and very barely sober man was looking her over, clearly impressed. "You know, I like a woman who can-" Before he could finish the sentence, Reanne had a butterfly knife pointed at his nose. His rambling stopped immediately and he went back to his beer, apparently trying to pretend the whole interaction had never happened.

[blam-marie]

A Metaphor's Guide to Rewriting Destiny

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Chapter 01

The Lighthouse - cont

It was a long walk down the promontory and through the woods that surrounded the prison, but despite the horns and yells, no one came after us. The wind was biting, winter chill freezing us to the bone, but neither of us cared much about that. Cold could slow us down, but never stop us. There was no snow on the ground, despite it being the early days of the year. In fact, it looked more likely to rain than to snow. Weather in Theos had never made sense to me. It wasn’t that much farther south than the Wallen isles, in the grand scheme of things, yet it still rained while Riverhill would be buried in white by now. No matter. The lack of snow was useful to us, as tracks would be much harder to follow on hard packed earth. The wind even did us the decency of shuffling leaves after us, making it seem as if we’d never been there at all.

Past the woods was a road. Compassion led me to a large boulder behind which we would be out of sight of that road and retrieved two carpet bags that had been hidden under piles of branches. He turned to hand them to me but hesitated.

“We thought to hide your face. We did not… know.”

I ripped the bags from him. Inside, I found the black clothes of a widow in full mourning.

I put them on.

Compassion watched me do so with cautious eyes, having seemingly weighted the danger of me against the danger of what might come down the road and found me more important to monitor. In this at last I found the comfort of familiarity, until I realized that he did not watch me for fear of what I might do. Instead, his gaze lingered on my ribs, my sunken cheeks, and my dull and dirty hair, all of which must have been clear to see in the rosy evening light. I snarled but he did not turn away. 

There were too many clothes in the bags, and not enough time. The fashion of this time and place was particularly annoying that way. I remembered when we all used to wear loose tunic and went to war in sandals. But we also lived much further south back then, and January hadn’t been invented yet. I didn’t bother with the underclothes. I tore at what I had been forced to wear for four years, shoved the pieces at Compassion — let him figure out what to do with them — and started pulling on the corset bare-skinned. I saw him wince at this, but Pride had beat it into my head a long time ago that shape made the clothing, and I needed that dress on and fast. I had been provided with two petticoats, both cotton, one quilted and one not. I growled. How ridiculous. Whoever had prepared the bag had obviously thought to be considerate of the weather, but the two seconds that it took me to separate both garments and shove one back in the bag was two seconds wasted. The quilted skirt went on, then finally the dress. I didn’t change my shoes, as my old boots were perfectly adequate and the hem of the dress would hide them anyhow. There was a bonnet, gloves, even a woollen shawl. All of these I ignored, pulling out the long mourning veil instead.

Once I was dressed and he had helped me arrange the veil, we both grabbed a bag and Compassion guided me down the road until we found a waiting carriage half hidden between the trees. A coachman and a footman were arguing quietly. Their clothes were elegant for people of their station, and the posh carriage marked them as belonging to a wealthy house. But that was nothing but an appearance, meant to fool people from afar. As we approached, I saw that the footman was in fact a young girl dressed in the manner of a boy. She had made a good effort but could not quite pull it off. Her stance, while angry and brash, was wrong; something about the way she held her weight. It was also obvious that long hair had been pulled up and hidden under her woollen cap. 

She was the first to notice us. She glared as we approached. 

“You’re late.”

“Only a little bit, though!” hurried to add her companion, trying to soften our impression of her. I disliked him immediately. 

He was tall and thin and nervous, which was not a good combination for a prison escape. In fact, given their clothes, both of them were far too conspicuous. I glared at Compassion. He ignored me.

He thanked the humans and tried to guide me into the carriage with a hand on my elbow. He was lucky that I let him keep that hand. But he had agreed to help me retrieve Astoria, I reminded myself. She would not be the same now, I knew. Many things had changed four years ago, and imprisonment always left a mark. But that was not her fault. It was my grief to bear.

I settled into a seat as docilely as I knew how to be — which was not very — and let the others do their parts. The humans guided us back to the small road then turned onto a larger one where our carriage merged with a file of several other just as elegant ones that were all going in the same direction. The urgency and costumes explained themselves now. There was a dinner happening somewhere, or a ball, the guests of which were rich enough that searching their carriages would be out of the question. Either they would complain or they would ask questions, neither of which the King of Theos could afford.

If the lords and ladies of the land knew that the Exemplar of Rage was loose, they would whip themselves in a frenzy imagining what sort of revenge I might be capable of visiting upon them. If the King had any sense at all, he would keep my escape a secret until I made it impossible for him to do so. I sank into my seat, grateful for the softness of the cushions. Revenge would be mine, but it would have to wait. I was safe now, but I needed a plan. I needed to situate myself. And most of all, I needed to figure out Compassion’s angle. 

“How did you find your little helpers?���

“They’re not here for me. I told them that I needed help rescuing the Exemplar of Rage. They thought…” he trailed off and sighed. “I told them not to involve you, but there is a revolution coming.”

“I’m not interested.”

Compassion nodded, as if he had expected me to say that. I bristled. What did he know of me? I wanted nothing more than to claw that understanding expression off his face. 

But. Astoria awaited me, and I needed him. I settled down.

“That is what I said, but they insisted that they should present their case to you themselves. I could not deny them that.”

I would just have to refuse them in person, then. I knew why this kept happening, why people always expected me to join revolutions or wars. I was Rage, wasn’t I? I was supposed to yell and fight along with the rest of them. But what most failed to understand was that I was an old rage. A rage who had lived for thousands of years. I no longer had anything in common with the hot flame of youth that blazed bright in the night and died quickly. I had turned into a deeper ache, the sort of scream that settled inside and slowly hollowed you out until you were nothing but a burnt out shell of yourself. I was the unbearable, forced to endure. Never mellowed and never appeased; tired of myself but without rest. Rage, they called me and expected me to howl. Rage, I called myself and wept.

Joining their revolution would not help them; it would only make them careless, and put expectations on my shoulders that I could not fulfill. I would only consider doing so if it helped Astoria in some way. 

“And what of you?” I asked. “Why are you here? You are not Wallen, you have no duty to me.”

“Surprisingly enough, I am actually Wallen now.”

“No, you’re not.”

He chuckled. “Is that so difficult to believe?”

“You are Compassion. There is none of you to be found in Walls.”

“I beg to differ, for I have found myself in Walls more than once.”

His little joke was not amusing. I made sure that he could see it on my face. His lips twitched. 

“Have you ever heard of a place called Sinen-Zi?”

“No.”

“It’s an island, with a very deep bay. A good place for a port. When Zheinzou lost the war to Walls seven years ago, they ceded that island.”

“…And?”

“And it just so happened that Sinen-Zi was my home.” 

He laid a hand flat on his chest. The uninjured one, I noticed. His right hand rested uneasily on his knee. He had pulled his sleeve over his fingers. Blood seeped slowly through the fabric, which at least was dark enough that neither the coachman nor the footwoman had yet noticed. 

“This host was born there,” he explained. “And I am quite attached to the place.”

I stared at him, not understanding his logic at all. 

“That doesn’t make you Wallen.”

“Why not?”

“Because no one would allow that! What does Sheinzhu think about it?” I saw him wince at the use of the Wallen version of his homeland’s name. It only made me angrier. “I doubt that they would have conceded the island if they had known you would try to go with it. No one trades or surrenders an Exemplar when they have one.”

“No,” he said very quietly, “but they traded my home.”

He was so serious, so solemn about it, that I should have let it go. But I was suddenly so angry for no clear reason, and I needed an outlet. His reasoning still did not make sense, and my reaction to things that did not make sense had always been to try and break the exterior so that I could see how it worked on the inside. 

“Places change hands all the time,” I insisted. “You’re an Exemplar, what even is the point of caring about that? We’ve both been alive since long before Walls or even Sheinzhu existed.”

Compassion went very quiet then, and spoke against his nature for the first time that I could remember in my experience of him. He said, with a gentle cruelty: “Perhaps you do not care, but the people in whose world you live do. I heard that your current host’s nationality is part of the reason Walls didn’t come for you.”

I clenched my fists and only by virtue of being an old rage and not a young one did I manage not to punch him so hard in the throat that he flew out of the carriage’s window and into the road. 

It was true. The Empire of Walls saw my dark skin and darker hair as an embarrassment. They would have preferred me in a different host and would be relieved the day that someone finally killed me and I Manifested into a body more appropriate.

I had not done it on purpose. It was common knowledge that Exemplars did not choose their hosts. We died and then woke up having replaced some poor human inside of their own body, and if we were unlucky we could still feel them trashing around inside of us for a while as our horrible divine essence burned them out of existence. But we could not choose and we could not aim, and blaming us for the circumstances of our incarnations was a fool’s errand.

This made killing us a gamble. Who knew where a dead Exemplar would show up next, and on whose side? Would they wake up back in the same land, or on the other side of the world, in a country no one even knew existed yet? This was why Theos had put me in the Lighthouse. At least there, they had known where I was. 

Only a few of us were attached enough to a country to return there time and time again. Most Exemplars chose to simply belong to wherever they Manifested for the length of that lifetime. I personally could not care less, but unfortunately Walls seemed attached to me — or at least, to the idea of having me. They were a land of conquerors, of devourers, and once they had it in their minds that you belonged to them, they never let you go. For several hundred years now, whenever I died and someone else became me, Wallen envoys came to find me and escorted me “home”. I was never given much of a choice about it. And once they had me back, they seemed to forget quickly that I had ever appeared elsewhere. The boast was that Rage was Wallen, and the myth was that I always Manifested there. 

(Of course, that was easier now, given how large the Empire had grown. It was a challenge to not Manifest somewhere their hand had touched.)

Anydrite knew why they wanted me that much. It wasn’t like I’d ever won anyone to my side with my shining personality, no matter which shape I happened to wear. I made people uncomfortable. Oh, certainly, in times of war I was much desired. But in times of peace, I was a disruption that could not be suffered. I had to be watched, just in case I went and did something inconvenient with all of that divine rage that I had been named for.

But that delusion of theirs was easier to maintain if I looked the part. When I had Manifested in Aditya almost a decade ago, no one had been very happy about it. On the one hand, it was a good sign when a colony had absorbed enough of “your” culture to manifest one of your “traditional” Exemplars. On the other hand, a colony manifesting Rage of all possible things was the sort of event that made a lot of people very nervous. 

It also made a lot of locals very foolhardy. The poor doomed things. Just because someone on the other side of the world had shot the Exemplar of Rage at the same time as a young woman’s parents had died and she had taken up a knife to strike back at the one responsible — therefore making herself a vessel for me at a time when I was without one — that did not make it a sign, or a message, and even less a blessing. It was a coincidence. If my divine arrival was a sign of anything, it was that Aditya was angry. Not that it was prepared or armed enough to retake its freedom. A revolution at that time, without supplies or even a plan, would have been a bloodbath. One that my sole presence would have been the cause of. Again.

In the end, it was only the interference of Pride (and their quick talking and ability to reframe the situation, insisting on how Wallen the Adityans had to be if I had been called to them) that prevented some unfortunate decisions from being made. That was why I always returned to Walls, in the end. There was no other choice. 

It wasn’t the first time that something like that had happened, but it was the first where my Manifestation was not immediately followed by another one, elsewhere. The last time that I had ended up in the wrong type of host, for example, I had awoken on a ship. Between one thing and another, the ship had sunk, and all aboard had perished. But they had perished free, for all the good that did them. 

Perhaps that was why Pride had been on the lookout for me, and their hunch that I would land in the current hot spot of Wallen’s cruelty had been correct. They knew that I hated Manifesting, that it broke me for months, and that doing it twice back to back was even worse. But for all of Pride’s clever words and influence and power, even they could not change the fact that I looked wrong. 

I was not a fool. I had wondered if the origin of my host had not been part of the reason for abandoning me to rot in Theos. I had raged at the possibility. Having it confirmed now felt… freeing.

I unclenched my fists and relaxed back into my seat. Compassion looked like he regretted his words, but there was none of his namesake in me, so I hit him back where it would hurt without qualms. 

“So your island was given away to the empire who poisoned your people. And you decided to join that empire?”

It was his turn to look away, but he was not a coward. He did not stay turned long. Instead, he chose to meet my stare dead on.

“Not join. Just visit, for now. Someone who poisons others must have something wrong with them, and I wanted to find out what.”

Of course they had something wrong with them. I kept manifesting there. 

“That’s called colonialism. Rots the mind.”

He shrugged. His calm was infuriating. I had no idea how he did it.

“How did you even know how to find me?”

He rummaged awkwardly into a pocket — still with his left hand, the clown. He should have used his non-dominant side to break through the barrier — and produced a letter. I saw that it was in Pride’s handwriting and snatched it out of his hand.

It said:

My dearest, I can no longer tolerate the humiliation of the way you are being treated. Do teach respect to your current neighbours for me, will you? PS. I still owe you for the latest decoration you brought to my dwellings, so I have decided to send you a companion whose presence I believe you will enjoy greatly. Love, Pride <3 

I groaned and crumbled the paper into a ball. That explained everything. Pride had sent Compassion specifically to annoy me, as a payback for terminating their last host. 

“I’m assuming the last part is sarcasm?”

“You read it?”

“It is incriminating evidence. There was a concern that I might have to destroy it before reaching you. I assumed you would still want to be informed of its content. So yes, I availed myself of it. I apologize if that was an overreach.”

I tossed the paper ball back at him. “Whatever. I don’t care.”

“You say that a lot.”

I didn’t bother answering that. I looked out of the window for a little while, watching the scenery pass by. We had reached the edges of a city. The carriage turned, separating from the line of rich bastards at last. As they carried on towards their nightly entertainment, we passed under an arch into a narrow street. Our wheels clattered over cobblestones. 

“Why did Theos even keep you prisoner in the first place?”

I frowned in surprise. “You don’t know?”

“No, and neither did Pride, whom I would expect to always be au fait of the political landscape.”

“Well, I assume it had something to do with the war.”

“What war?”

Now I turned to look at him fully. “The…? How should I know? Peace died, didn’t she? I at least know that much. Peace died, which always means a war, then I was found on Theos territory.”

I had actually been captured because Peace had died. I had had the misfortune of being in the vicinity of her new host as she Manifested. I had never been so close to a Manifestation — other than my own — but I could now attest that such a thing was very much not subtle. The bright divine light of Anydrite had pierced the sky and the shock-waves had rippled for miles. Soldiers had come running, certain that they were under attack. And when they had, they had found me. Rage. As well as the proof that somewhere out there in the world, someone had killed Peace and started a war. Put together, the two facts had done nothing to dispel the impression that they were being invaded. 

“Oh,” he said. “That. Yes, Peace did die.”

I waited for a beat, then prompted: “Do we know who did it?”

“Unfortunately no, we don’t,” he replied with obvious frustration. “Whoever it was, perhaps they wanted to wait until they’d returned home before making some grand announcement. But they ran out of time. As soon as the news hit the rumour mill, at least five separate groups claimed the murder and jumped on the opportunity to commit whatever violence they’d obviously been dreaming about.”

I groaned. “Of course. Walls?”

“Surprisingly no, for once. But Theos initiated two distinct conflicts near the border of Wallen colonies.”

He shot me an oblique look. “Perhaps they didn’t want you to interfere.”

“Perhaps.”

I had no idea. Unlike Pride, I didn’t keep up with politics as it only made me angry. Take the entire thing with Peace, for example. Killing the Exemplar of Peace was the traditional way to start a war to the point where entering a conflict without committing the symbolic murder essentially doomed you to failure, as your armies would refuse to follow your lead and your allies would desert you out of superstition. It was one of many beliefs around the Exemplars that I loathed. No one ever thought about how Peace felt about all of that, didn’t they? They only saw her as a thing, a tool for them to use. A symbol. 

I myself was tired of being a symbol. Being a symbol had resulted in the death of my husband and the loss of my child. Those soldiers, when they had found us, had not waited to hear our explanations, or even looked at us long enough to see that my love was very obviously not a warrior, but a poet. They had only seen Rage, and been afraid. So they had struck, convinced that they were defending themselves. 

It could not have been otherwise, I knew. I had loved because it was in my nature, because you could not truly rage unless you loved deeply. And then I had lost, because it was written in the stars that I should do so. It was a rotten fate, and it was inevitable.

[delimeful]

Snapshot: Release

new WIBAR Snapshot! 

warnings: mention of trafficking, PTSD, mentions of funeral rites, catharsis, crying, sad hours

-

Patton liked to think himself an optimist, but even he could admit that there were some days where things were bad.

He didn’t like to, of course. Gratitude was a virtue in Ampen culture, and he had carried it with him gladly when he first started spacefaring. It was easy, most days, to find something to be grateful for and thank the sea’s tidings.

Most days.

Though it had taken time, Patton had learned to loosen his grip on the idea of the foam edge, the bright side to a bad situation. He still found the cup half-full, of course, but he also knew that sometimes things were hard, and it was okay to be sad about that.

He was still getting to the part where he told others when he was sad, but that was okay! He was working on it, and as Logan always said, growth took time.

A few rotations after Virgil and him were reunited with his best friends, Virgil had one of those days.

It had started innocuously enough. Patton had been sprawled over Virgil’s legs, continuing his not-so-secret agenda to show Roman and Logan exactly what kind of Human Virgil was. Not harmless, certainly, but-- what was the Common word? Disciplined.

They both knew how easily Virgil could hurt him, could hurt any of them. Patton had been there watching while they escaped, when Virgil slammed into aliens much stronger than an Ampen with unforgiving force. There was no question of his capability for violence, when faced with a threat.

But that was just it. Virgil knew he could hurt them, even through simple carelessness, and he worked so hard not to.

It was clear in every movement. How could Patton feel the subtle tremor in Virgil’s hands when he held him, the attentive stillness of his body when Patton perched on him, the careful softness of his fingers carding through feathers, and feel anything but treasured?

Virgil had protected Patton with everything he had, and Patton was going to return the favor however he could. That’s what friends were for, after all.

So, Patton was nestled into the crook of Virgil’s legs, listening intently as he told a story from back home, occasionally piping in with questions or a story of his own.

Logan would have metaphorically killed for the opportunity to even just listen in on these firsthand Deathworlder anecdotes, but Virgil was still avoiding the Ulgorian with skillful determination. It was a little saddening, but Patton knew better than to push.

Everything was still settling down from their last incident; he didn’t want to disrupt the delicate balance again by shoving Virgil out of his comfort zone.

Instead, he just listened, happy to see the little differences that had overcome his friend since they’d finally gotten free of that horrible cell.

This was far from the first time they’d sat around storytelling.

There was little else to do in their cell, and besides, it was one of the fastest ways to share words, telling tales tall and small and only pausing whenever a word didn’t quite translate or their voices went out. Back then, though, Virgil had shared his stories with an almost bittersweet air about him.

It reminded Patton of the way Crav’n held wakes, long stretches of time spent gathered around their pyre, sharing stories, remembering and honoring the deceased in every way they could. It was as though Virgil was giving up those little pieces of himself in advance, for someone to remember after he was gone. As though he was performing his own funerary rites.

His coatfeathers fluffed up sharply at the thought, and he shuddered a few times to try and settle them back into place. That time was past, Virgil was safe, and so it bore no further thought.

Unaware of the way Patton’s attention had strayed, Virgil ran a hand over his back, shifting feathers back into alignment with surprising delicacy for such a large being. Patton trilled lowly in pleased gratitude, wishing wholeheartedly that Roman would stop glaring long enough to notice this aspect of the Mindscape’s newest resident. They could get along so well if they gave each other a chance, he just knew it…

“Hey, Patton?” Virgil asked, shifting from the bright, long vowels of Patton’s native language to the lower register he used for his own home tongue. Patton perked his antennae up to show his friend that he had his undivided attention; Virgil usually only used English when he was asking something he didn’t want anyone else to overhear.

Nobody was nearby to listen, but that didn’t stop Virgil from casting a guilty look over his shoulder when he admitted, “I snuck into the map room yesterday.”

The ‘map room’ must have been referring to the nav room, where they plotted courses. It had a manual pilot control station as well, which was why Roman had been safeguarding it from Virgil as though he thought the Human would suddenly take up space piracy and seize control of their vessel.

Patton certainly didn’t have any problem with trusting Virgil in there, so he didn’t even twitch at the confession, only narrowing his eyes in silent encouragement for his friend to continue.

Just as Patton no longer shied away from bared teeth, Virgil no longer assumed narrowed eyes signified anger or doubt. He had picked up on a fair amount of Ampen body language during the course of their friendship, and so his lips quirked to the side slightly before he took the invitation to explain.

“I just wanted to know where we were, I guess. It was difficult to make sense of the maps-- It’s not like I’ve had a lot of opportunities to check them out on any of the other ships I’ve been on,” he said, and only the way his eyes rolled up slightly told Patton he was mostly-joking, the hesitant way he did sometimes.

Patton knew their time spent with the smugglers was something everyone on the ship would prefer to forget, including them, but things like that changed a person. They couldn’t be denied. If small, slightly-bitter jokes like this one were how Virgil honored that change, Patton could support it.

“I’d be mappalled with their terrible hosting skills, if I were you,” he chimed in, and he couldn’t help the way his feathers’ glow increased at the sight of Virgil’s smile, even muffled behind a hand. “Do you want to learn how to read the maps?”

“Yes,” Virgil answered, unable to conceal the too-quick way he leapt on the opportunity. There was a pause, his face going slightly pink, but Patton didn’t comment, feeling a swell of sympathy in his upper heart. It was hard to remember sometimes, with how adjusted Patton was to the wayfarer lifestyle, that Virgil was immeasurably far from everything he’d ever known.

“I mean, yeah,” he corrected, clearing his throat in a way that Patton had once mistaken for a growl, “but that’s not actually-- I was trying to see if I could recognize anything. Any stars, or-- or planets, y’know?”

He was avoiding eye contact now, staring at a distant point. He hadn’t moved his hand, which meant that Patton could feel the tremble in it when he butted his head into the point of contact. He crooned soothingly, the type of sound a parent would use to soothe a hatchling.

“I, um. Well, I figured if I knew how far it was, I could figure out how much it would cost to make that sort of…,” he fumbled for a word Patton would know, slipping back into Common for a few words, “extra trip. But I couldn’t find anything familiar. So, I... I thought I’d ask. Like I probably should have in the first place.”

Patton waited, but that seemed to be all Virgil could manage. “Ask what?” he prompted gently. “Space is big, but if there’s certain skysights you miss, I’m sure we can get started on finding them! What are you looking for?”

Virgil’s attention dropped down to him and then flitted away again, not a single sign that he’d even heard Patton’s pun. He clenched and unclenched his fists, and then dragged his gaze back to meet Patton’s.

“... Earth?” he managed, in one of the smallest voices Patton had ever heard from him.

Oh.

Oh.

Patton’s antennae flicked back in dread before he could stop them, and Virgil’s face twitched slightly, making an expression that he’d never seen before. His chin had dimpled, his jaw clenched, tense as though waiting for a blow.

Waiting for Patton to tell him he couldn’t go home.

This wasn’t the first time he’d thought about it, Patton realized. Far from it, it seemed as though Virgil had been cradling this question like an egg surrounded by downy feathers, keeping it tucked away, waiting desperately to be secure enough, safe enough to ask. To try hoping for a future again.

He was so afraid to want, and Patton couldn’t help but whine slightly, because this time, he was right to fear the worst.

They couldn’t go to Earth. Patton knew, because it was the first thing he’d talked to Roman and Logan about, that first day, as soon as Virgil had retired to his new room.

It wasn’t a matter of should or would. They couldn’t, not even if they all agreed to try, not even if they were willing to go directly against the council’s edicts. They didn’t have the equipment to get past the barricade undetected, they didn’t have the knowledge to slip between patrols, they didn’t even have the cloaking capabilities they’d need to land on an uninformed planet. They didn’t have enough funds to try and obtain any of those.

Honestly, they were barely scraping by as it was. Roman and Logan had halted their normal cargo runs to search for him, and their savings had suffered as a result. It was part of the reason they had been taking more jobs, any they could find that wouldn’t put them in the sights of any potential Human-hunters.

He’d done his best to shield Virgil from realizing just how much his presence had changed their routine, but going by the way he thought he’d have to pay them just to get back to a home he never should have been stolen from in the first place, he hadn’t been successful.

Patton glanced to the door with a half-formed desire to go get Logan, who had patiently walked Patton through every possible scenario until it sunk in that they really, truly couldn’t do it.

It wasn’t fair. Patton had chosen this life, and he could still go home, and see his family, and greet the ocean breeze. Virgil hadn’t had a choice in anything, hadn’t had the freedom that spacefaring brought so many, and now he didn’t have the option to return home, either.

“It’s not— I don’t want to leave you,” Virgil forced out, looking a little frantic. “I mean, we’re friends, right?”

He used the Ampen version of the word, the one that translated literally to ‘treasured one’, and could be used by any who had bonded closely, blood or nest-sharing aside. Patton nodded firmly, mouth clamped shut to keep from sobbing.

“Right,” Virgil continued, near-pleading, “so it’s not you, I promise, and I can find a way to pay back my debts, I know Roman wants me gone and Logan wants s-samples, and I can do that. It’s fine, it’s worth it, just… I miss home. So bad. Even the parts I used to hate.”

“I’m sorry,” Patton said in the most honorable way he had, the low, agonized call of I repent and I regret. “If we could— I promise we would, Virgil. It’s not your fault, you have no debts here. You deserve to go home.”

Virgil’s face was miserable to even witness, the way faltering hope had been crushed under the weight of his worst suspicions being confirmed. Patton reached for him automatically, his attempts to comfort his friend coming out as a soft empathetic cry instead, and that wounded sound was all it took for Virgil’s self-control to finally break.

He crumpled all at once, a breezecatcher with its tether cut, crashing to the sand below. The top of his head butted gently against Patton’s side, a mirror of the way Patton so often sought comfort from him, and he began to cry in earnest, as though releasing months of built-up misery.

Disciplined, Patton remembered with a pang of bitter sorrow, and let his Deathworlder finally weep for everything that had been taken from him.

[rumblelibrary]

Exhibitionism and jealous sex with Zemo? 👉👈

I need him like showing off to everyone exactly who you belong to 👀

Colonel Helmut Zemo x EKO!Reader

(This is like my main land, Colonel Zemo and his favourite Lieutenant are back showing off their power dynamics to the rest of the group)

Warnings: SMUT, public sex

To stare at his lands from the above alway quieted the mind of Zemo, it brought him rest. Sokovia. That’s all they did it for. That’s all he was on that cargo plane with his squad for.

He swore to protect it, to make sure to bring it to freedom, one day. Maybe not today, maybe not without blood. But he will.

Now for the imminent problem.

To get down a small group of weapons dealers, of course the Stark Industries behind it as always, but these men were using Sokovia as land of exchange and this had to change.

His eyes travelled over you getting geared up in your tactical suit, you looked ravishing even in that. This wasn’t a mission you were needed, you were good at infiltrate, gaslighting, manipulation, you were his chess queen masked as a pawn, but he cousin’t really give you a discount for being extra good at what you do. His attention drastically shifted when another member of the team coming behind you to help as you chatted quietly. You smiled at him as he bowed lightly to say something to your ear and you smiled nodding.

Those moments before a mission, usually Zemo would spend those with you framing the important informations you have to keep in mind and instead you’re there flirting? Also, with him? Among all?

He studied the way he leaned forward, bowing his head and his facial expression. He really was going hard on you and you even let him do it. Oh, you were enjoying it, you were like a cat that moves around the ankles of a stranger to earn some undeserved food and attentions. Maybe you won’t ever pay back those attentions and yet look how he gave in for it. The chance to be the one you will celebrate the success of the mission with enough to make the man strive for it.

Then Zemo saw it, that hand resting on your hip and yet no reaction.

What game were you playing at?

Even the faint hope you were giving your comrade was irritating the Baron, you won’t celebrate with anyone but him, the rules are clear and yet you seemed up for testing the waters. You looked up and your eyes met, oh you knew. You knew you fucked up and yet you put your hand on the other man’s arm with a reassuring touch.

Then the time to put on the parachutes was on, these dealers had their headquarters in the middle of a forest and the only way to get them down was to surprise them from above in order to avoid mines and other traps.

Zemo shifted from his position to get ready himself even if that sense of uneasiness was still pestering him.

His eyes drifted back to the man, a smirk playing on his lips as you now got parted.

His friends coming closer to him giving him pats on the back and whispering things he would never allow to be said about his woman.

You were one of the first to do the jump and Zemo leaned beside you, the cold air hitting the bot of you.

“Are you sure of what you’re doing?”

You looked up at him as he pushed that question on you, there was no surprise in you. That almost made Zemo want to flip you immediately. You knew exactly what you were doing, he wasn’t misreading.

“I am” you said pulling down the mask covering your mouth, almost shouting to be heard “what about you?”

He frowned to your come back as you pulled that mask back up and jumped soon followed by the ones after you.

Zemo frowned as he took also the parachute and followed up.

The mission was hands down a success, no loss from your side and the whole place destroyed, now he will only sand a group to make sure the surrounding lands get cleaned up from any possible explosives. Back on the cargo plane Helmut looked at the team undoing their technical suits and cleaning their weapons, his eyes once more on you. As always you have been a proper sight on field. You’re not enhanced by serums in any way nor trained since you were a child. You just have it in you, that hunger, that primal instinct to do or die.

Once more, that comrade came closer to you, he talked to you quietly, whispering close to you, his way of behaving rubbing Zemo in all the wrong ways. Plus the fact you’re doing it on purpose. You are destabilising the group like this.

He called everybody’s attention as most of the group was on the seats on the sides of the plane.

“Today’s mission could be considered a success, but you were still slow” he said as the group frowned, Zemo always strived for perfection and he knew soon or later they will have to face something greater than a pair of smugglers.

“But the thing that I find most insulting of tonight’s mission is how some of you believe that they can play among the ranks”

A thick silence fell over the team, only you were still looking at him as he observed their reaction.

He let his little sentence sink in before adding “we do not mix Andalusian Horses with donkeys here”

Only a baron could do such a metaphor and you smirked lightly to yourself as he glared at you, being the closest to him in the chain of command you were beside him and he rested his back against the wall staring at you, his legs spreading.

If you had an hint of fear in your body you’d probably get worried, feel the pressure of what he was implying, of what he wanted to prove. Everyone knew there was one favourite and that was you. Not because he went easy on you, oh no, to be his favourite you had to be the hungriest and most savage of them all. The favouritism was the chance to be in his arms, beside to be his right arm.

You stood up and leaned in to look at him, he didn’t wince. Oh, he was mad you were giving hopes to the guy.

You kneeled down undoing his pants as he stared at you. Oh he wished you’d be afraid of this, but you’re not, you’re just where you wanted to be in the moment you welcomed his cock between your lips. You gave a big show indeed, you were skilled and you showed it off, you used your tongue licking striped of saliva over his cock, you even left out a soft moan as it vibrated against his sensitive skin. You hummed pleased sucking his tip softly, before going down bobbing your head.

He didn’t touch your head, he kept his hands still as he stared at you, you looked for it, asked for it, his hips snapping every now and the hitting the back of your throat.

The soft whines coming from you as he pulled his cock abruptly out and you pressed your tongue fat over the vein on it, looking for welcoming it back into your warm mouth. But that was enough already.

The rest of the group was growing restless, staring and resisting barely to start palming themselves.

“Up”

He ordered and you stood up undoing your pants pulling them down with your undergarment “You’re making a show” you whispered to him.

“You will give the show now” he assured to you gesturing you to turn around with a finger when you moved to sit on his lap “you have been looking for this, didn’t you?”

You groaned softly as he pushed his cock inside you snapping his hips hard inside you “oh, I should have prepped you, poor baby”

He cooed at you slapping your thigh as his hand moved onto your throat, your back resting against his chest as you actually bounced back his thrusts, you liked it and you weren’t holding it back.

Even if the beginning was raw you were too aroused by the whole situation, your body jerking over it in pleasure as he was blessing and punishing you with his attentions

“Tell everyone how much you like it”

“I love it” you moaned

“louder!”

You repeated is again before his hand squeezed harshly your neck, you parted your lips as he just went harder, he controlled your breathing skilfully, he swayed his hips harshly.

“You’re my bitch, let everyone hear the way you call out for more”

He growled into your ear as you held yourself up on his upper thighs, you knew you were playing a dangerous game there, you were teasing the wrong man.

But how pleasurable it was.

The whole group wasn’t letting out a word even if the air was thick, the arousal evident, the man you were teasing before just sweating his soul out for fear mixed up with excitement. That was what Helmut wanted to obtain: you’re an eye candy, but to look and not to touch.

His lips brushing over the skin of your neck, his groans resonating through you.

The way he touched you, the way he slammed into your body, changed angle and trusted more. The way his free hand touched you.

He wanted you to cum out loud. To make a mess on his lap.

There was only one man you couldn’t ever lie to and it was him, only one man held your devotion, your complete submission, the only one that you could accept something like this from without ever considering it an humiliation. It was a pack leader kind of ritual, showing the younger wolves who was the alpha through you and all of them knew you weren’t exactly a defenceless flower.

“Hel”

It was a soft whisper yours, almost strangled by the pressure he held on your neck.

He had to make you cum, it was part of showing them who you belonged to “It won’t end here”

A whisper, a promise you wished and knew he would keep as his fingers grasped over your body forcing you into a very obscene orgasm, the sounds you made could be recorded and played to torture touch starved people in jail, the other members of the group shivering in their spots. If you overacted it just to make it be heard loud and clear not even Helmut could say it.

He thrusted inside you more, once, twice until you felt him release into you and you shivered letting out a pleased moan to be full of him.

Your landing wasn’t far, the plane arrived just on time to let others stare intensely at Zemo to order to break the lines.

He didn’t satisfy them immediately. The had to see it, to see you shiver as his cum dripped on your inner thighs while still on top of him. Only when they did witnessed it, all of them he ordered them to leave.

You rested against him few moments more catching up your breath.

His hands travelling onto your body squeezing your thighs hard almost to the point of bruising you.

“You are a manipulative whore”

You chuckled “I leaned from the best”

He smirked with a soft chuckle escaping him.

“So it is reviewing time, show me what else you learned”

[going-dead]

Lightning Scars and Listening Ears

Phic phight prompt by @datawyrms : Danny Phantom's jumpsuit is hiding a secret he'd rather not reveal to anyone. (feel free to be metaphorical if you want.) l

Team Human: @currentlylurking​

Most citizens of Amity Park often forgot that Phantom wasn’t human. Sure he would fly through the skies, turn invisible, and shoot ectoplasm at the ghosts who would attack the city on a daily basis, but the way he acted when not saving the city always seemed so alive. That’s where the problem lied though. The ghost kid wasn’t alive, a fact that Amity Park never actually thought much about.

Phantom was playing around with some kids in the park when it all happened. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence to see the boy play with the younger citizens of the city, under their parents supervision most of the time. Seeing him give them piggyback rides and playing tag was actually a common sight when there were no ghosts to fight. Phantom had six different kids hanging off of his arms and legs, apparently trying to tackle him and get him to fall down. The group of parents laughed at the sight as the teenage hero fell to the ground admitting his defeat in a dramatic flourish. “Ahh you got me! Foul villains, you will regret this!” He laughed as he lunged at the closest kid and launched a tickle attack. Childish squeels rang out as the uncaptured children ran trying to avoid being tickled. The little girl in his arms was finally released from her attacker when she turned on Phantom and started to tickle him back. His laughter attracted the other kids who scattered and they joined the counter attack.

“I yield I yield!” He flailed his arms as a dozen little hands tickled any spot they could reach. The kids slowly let up their assault leaving the teen gasping for breath.

One of the children, the girl who started the attack on Phantom, pulled on his arm. “Mr. Phantom? What’s that did you get a owie?” She asked pointing to his neck where part of his jumpsuit wrinkled down revealing a few red raised streaks maring his skin.

Phantom froze eyes jumping over to the adults just a few feet over who had stopped their conversation to try to see what the young girl was asking about. He quickly pulled the collar of his suit back into place. He gave the girl and the other kids surrounding him a pained smile. “Yeah I did get an owie. Don’t worry though I’m fine, doesn’t even hurt anymore.” Suddenly blue frost escaped his lips, the adults sitting nearby never saw him more relieved to have a ghost show up than in that moment. He gave quick goodbyes to the kids before shooting off to find the day's threat to the city.

All the adults gathered waved over their respective kids. While they trusted Phantom to get rid of the threat it was always smart to stay inside during a ghost attack. A loud boom sounded in the direction where Phantom flew off, shaking the ground. They all gave each other uncertain looks. “My house is closest we can take shelter there.” One of the men said leading everyone away.

After a block of running the group was almost to shelter when the ghost fight moved over their heads. The adults grabbed onto the children doing their best to shield them from the flying debris. They held the kids against their chests as they watched the sky in horror. They didn’t recognize the attacking ghost, but it was certainly doing a number on Phantom. The rest of the battle lasted at most a minute when Phantom managed to suck up the ghost into his thermos before he seemed to wobble in the sky and falling to the ground creating a small crater where he landed.

The man who was leading the group passed off the kid he was holding to the man next to him. “David what are you-?”

“Brian just hold her.” He ran over to the fallen teen and picked him up in a fireman's carry and rushed the rest of the way to his house.

Once he arrived he kicked open the door and placed the teen onto the couch in his living room. He looked down trying to assess the situation. Phantom’s jumpsuit was torn in numerous places exposing spots of his arms, neck, and chest that had splatterings of green ectoplasm across the exposed flesh. He started taking the rest of the jumpsuit off of the teen wanting to make sure there were no hidden injuries underneath. Behind him he could hear his husband and the other parents come through the door. “Get me a wet rag and some warm water!” He yelled behind him.

Once he was handed the items he started working on cleaning up the cuts and wiping off the ectoplasm. He silently thanked any higher being out there that he took a first aid class a few years back. The wounds actually seemed less severe than what David initially thought, that or the kid had some seriously advanced healing. One of the parents led the kids upstairs while the rest of them crowded around David and Phantom.

Once Phantom was as patched up as he could be David finally sat back and actually took a full look at the boy. His breath caught in his throat as he examined the body infront of him. In the end all he could get out was.“Oh my god. He’s- he’s dead.”

“What the hell do you mean? Of course he’s not, I can clearly see him breathing right now.” One of the parents protested.

David shook his head. “No.” He went to run his hands down his face before spotting the blood- no the ectoplasm covering them and settled for grabbing onto his husband for support. “No, I mean he’s a ghost.”

“Well yeah he’s a ghost it’s not like that’s news now is it?” Brian said running his hand up and down his husband's back.

“You guys don’t get it.” David pulled back. “Think! Look!” He ran his hand through his hair, staining it green. “Look at him.” He pointed at the teen’s unconscious body. There were lightning shaped scars running all over the boy’s body, from the base of his neck trailing all the way down to his ankles. Those weren’t the only scars marring his body though, small scars were scattered all over his body, there was a rather large one on his abdomen in the same spot where he was hit the other week fighting off a ghost who was attacking the high school. The gathered adults looked back at Phantom’s face. As he slept he almost looked like a normal teenager, there were small bags under his eyes, his closed eyes hid the toxic green color, and the glow surrounding him was almost nonexistent.

Three things seemed to dawn on the parents all at once.

1: Phantom at some point had died

2: He died young, at most he was just out of middle school when it happened.

3: From the looks of it he didn’t die in his sleep but painfully. They all silently hoped that at least it wasn’t drawn out.

As they all looked at each other they couldn’t help but think of their own children who were just upstairs. Did Phantom have a family? Did his parents miss their little boy? Do they know that Phantom was their son? Even worse, the boy had a jumpsuit on when he died, was his parents the cause of his premature death?

Of course if Phantom was conscious, didn’t have to worry about the whole identity thing, and could read their minds the boy would quickly put their minds to rest responding; yes, no he sees them daily, god no, and sorta it really was more of a case of teenage stupidity than his parents fault though.

Two of those issues though were quickly resolved as two white rings shocked the group out of their grief for a boy they hardly knew. The rings traveled across the boy’s body replacing bare skin with street clothes and white hair with black. Everyone looked at Phantom(?) confused, the boy in front of them was very unghost-like and the scratch on his face that was previously bleeding green now had a red where the scab was forming.

“What the fu- wait isn’t that the Fenton kid, Danny I think?” David asked looking back at the other parents who were in the same amount of shock that he was. Actually he was positive it was him, his older sister Jazz used to babysit their daughter and he would sometimes come along. If someone was going to respond they were cut off as the boy in front of them started to stir and open his eyes. He sat up almost falling off the couch in his panic, thankfully David was quick enough to catch him. “Woah there Danny, be careful you took a pretty bad beating out there. Hell I’m surprised you’re already awake to be honest kid.”

Danny gave him a thankful smile as he steadied himself. He froze once he caught a glimpse of his hair, his eyes shot down to his clothes. He looked back up and noticed the group of adults in front of him. “Now before you jump to any conclusions there’s a very reasonable explanation for this, or there will be just give me a few minutes.” “Wait so does this mean you’re not dead?” Brian asked.

“Brian you can’t just ask that! What if it’s a sensitive subject?” David scolded his husband then looked over at Danny. “Sorry about him.”

Danny looked over to the men who for some reason had hope in their eyes. “What? It’s fine. I mean I guess no- well yes- no- sorta- it’s complicated.”

As Danny looked at the numerous questioning eyes he sighed. It’s not like he could convince them that it was a trick of the light or something. And he did owe them since they patched him up better than he would have been able to at home in his bedroom. But before he could start he turned to David. “I’ll tell you guys everything but first um… is that my ectoplasm in your hair and on your hands? Because if so you probably should wash that off, prolonged exposure isn’t harmful per say but you could start to glow or something if you don’t wash it off soon.”

David looked down to his hands, apparently just now remembering he was still covered in the boy’s ectoplasm and rushed to the bathroom to wash it off. He’d worry about why the sight of his own blood- ectoplasm didn’t phase Danny at all later.

Once David returned, now free of ectoplasm, Danny sat down and started from the beginning. At one point in the story he must have started to cry because he was handed a tissue box, which he accepted with a thanks. By the end he wasn’t the only one with tears in his eyes, one of the adults had to go into the kitchen to compose themselves. Danny didn’t really understand why though, sure he sort of half died, but he didn’t see why it would affect any of them. “Hey! It’s fine, I’m fine it’s not a big deal! I mean it’s not like it only happened to me. Vlad went through it too like 20 years ago.” Danny seized up after he said that. “Don’t tell him you know about him though! Me not telling anyone about him is the only reason he’s not trying to fully kill me when we fight. That and he has a weird obsession with my mom and me.”

David paused at that. “So you’re telling us that not only did you go through a highly traumatic situation at a young age, but the only adult that even knows about it has tried to kill you multiple times?”

“I mean I guess but Jazz, my sister, knows about it too and she’s older than me and my friends.”

“Danny she’s also still a kid, an older one sure, but she is not an adult. Even if you didn’t go to your parents, was there no one else you could have talked to about it with? A therapist maybe?” David asked.

Danny laughed. “Ah no, Jazz tried having me go to the school therapist but she turned out to be a ghost who wanted to try to cause as much pain as possible. She even almost killed Jazz in front of the whole school.”

“Dear god.” David sighed. “All right, we will all keep your secret on one condition.”  Danny cringed and looked down at his lap, of course there was a catch. He just hoped it wasn’t anything too bad like letting them run a bunch of experiments on him whenever they wanted to. His ghost injuries were bad enough to hide from others, he didn’t need to have to explain away needle marks or something. “You’ll see Brian once a week for therapy sessions. He’s a licensed psychiatrist.”

“Wait what?” Danny looked up confused.

“Oh don’t worry I won’t charge you of course since we are forcing you to do this, and obviously you can choose the day of the week. I usually don't work fridays or the weekends but if those are the only days that work I’m sure we can rearrange some of our family time to make room for you.” Brian smiled. “Now it’s getting pretty late isn’t it? I’m sure it’s about time everyone here starts to head home now hmm? Of course if you aren’t feeling well enough Danny I can call your parent’s up and just let them know you’ll be staying here. I’ll just tell them you were injured in a ghost fight, not exactly lying now is it?”

“Um no I’m fine enough to walk home thank you though.” Danny said. Everyone started saying their goodbyes and calling the children down to get them ready to leave. Danny was the last one left, he was almost out the door when he was stopped by David handing him a piece of paper.

“Here are our numbers, I also wrote down where Brian’s office is, you can set up your appointment over text. As well as our address, you can stop by or call us for any reason Danny and I mean it okay, any.”

Danny looked down at the paper and pocketed it with a nod. As he left he felt almost lighter for some reason. Maybe having adults who knew and didn’t want to kill him but actually wanted to help him wasn’t so bad after all.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 11

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: Nope! Notes: Here we are, a breath away from the end. This features not one, but FOUR songs written by myself. If you only choose to listen to one of them, listen to the final one (Cradle of Heaven), as it is a duet I wrote specifically for this fanfiction, as something that the reader wrote to play together with Daniela. The links to these songs will be within the fanfiction itself, at relevant times. Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy, Pt. 7: Harmony, Pt. 8: Obbligato, Pt. 9: Berceuse, Pt. 10b: Hymn AMAB

Chapter 11: Cadence

(Cadence: Two chords that mark the end of a song)

The stage is set, the lights are dimmed, your heart pounds within your chest, and the world is yours. Soon, it will be Daniela’s. She is right by your side, as ever, hand gently taking hold of your own. There’s a silent reassurance in her grip, a reminder that the two of you have overcome a plethora of challenges. A promise that this will be no different. Both of you take a deep breath, in sync, before exchanging a quick kiss. All of your hard work has been leading up to the coming moments. Although you are beyond confident in your lover’s abilities, there is a shadow of doubt in the back of your mind. Not for her sake, but surrounding the expectations held by her mother, the standard against which you would be measured.

“Come hell or high water, Songbird, I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise,” Daniela whispers, squeezing your hand again, eyes unblinking as they stare into yours. “You’ve made every right choice, worked harder than anyone I know, and there is nothing more I can ask of you… except another kiss to celebrate afterwards, that is.” Giggling in response gives you the moment you need to relax, nerves fading into the background of your mind. “Now let’s put on a show the likes of which my mother has never seen, mhmm?”

THREE HOURS EARLIER:

“Here, you can borrow my brooch. It’s been in the family for generations, since before we even came to the village, passed down starting with an ancestor who crafted it himself, from materials he scavenged while fleeing his home country,” Daphne rambles, helping you attach the jewelry to your shirt. Thankfully, her hands do not tremble nearly as much as yours have been for the past hour. “I’m more than sure that Lady Daniela will tell you this much, but I feel the need to repeat just how good you look right now. I don’t know where the hell they’ve been hiding this version of our uniform, but damn do I wish I could get one for my next date with Ygritte. Seriously, if you can get one in my size, please do me that favor.”

“Anything for my best friend. Especially after all the times you’ve saved my ass these past few months,” you reply, pausing to give her shoulder an affectionate pat. If not for her constant interference running, someone would have certainly found out about your relationship with Daniela. “Speaking of that… of my life being on the line, I mean… no matter what happens today, no matter what Lady Dimitrescu decides, take care of yourself. You’ve gambled with your own blood to keep me safe, but what I’ve done, what I’ve risked, those were my choices. My consequences. The last thing I’d ever want is for you to pay for them, somehow.”

Rolling her eyes, Daphne gives you a playful shove to the chest, before smoothing out the fabric of your dress uniform. Now she refuses to meet your gaze, a familiar mistiness taking over her brown eyes.

“Nobody around here is stupid enough to think you’ll die today. You managed to get Lady Daniela, of all people, to stay focused long enough to learn some absolutely beautiful pieces of music. You have proved, time and time again, that you are a talented musician, teacher, and ‘servant’. So get out there and kick some metaphorical ass, my friend, because you are ready,” she finally says, offering you what seems to be a handshake. But as soon as your hand meets hers, she’s pulling you in for a hug, holding you tight for a solid minute. When at last you part, you give her what may very well be the last smile she’d ever see gracing your lips.

---------------------------

A hand’s edge against xer forehead, parallel to the ground, kept perfectly flat. From anyone else, it would be mockery. From xer? Honest salute, solidarity in a traditional form, accompanied by a sharp-toothed grin. Mimicking the expression, you wave at Ava, glad to see that xe would be awake for your concert. After your first night with your girlfriend, Daphne had helped arrange for someone to be your “cover story” for sleeping outside of your usual quarters. With Daniela’s input (and jealousy), only one candidate had revealed themselves, in the form of a (conveniently) mute butler with an inconsistent schedule, love of mischief, and somehow the respect of the Dimitrescu family. Now, xe appeared ready to escort you to the location of your trial by fire.

“Are you sure our mutual friend won’t be upset to see the two of us together?” You teased, knowing full well that Ava was one of the only people that Daniela trusted 100% around you. In response, xe gives an exaggerated shrug, then quickly links xer arm with your own. Together you march onwards to your destiny, amused by the way xe practically skipped down the hallway. Maybe there was a certain wisdom to xer shenanigans, a carefree philosophy that encouraged laughter in the face of death, and you embraced the thought with a smile.

Before long, however, the two of you encounter another unlikely pair headed towards the same destination: Lady Cassandra, looking somewhat embarrassed, with an unfamiliar maiden at her side. Their hands are clutching each other desperately, although neither of them dares to look at the other. Instead they both watch you closely from where they’ve paused in the corridor. Oddly unfazed, Ava gives them a short bow of acknowledgement, earning xer a brief nod from Cassandra. Seeming eager to move on, she addresses you quickly before gesturing for you to keep walking.

“Good luck. Don’t fuck this up for Daniela, or I’ll never hear the end of it,” she growls, doing her best to downplay her obvious concern. Wanting to let her keep up with her facade, you merely give a nod as you resume walking towards the concert stage. Soft footsteps behind you let you know that the strange pair are accompanying you. Still walking alongside you, Ava repeatedly glances behind you, putting out xer hands in the shape of a heart, giggling all the while. If you didn’t know any better, you would almost assume that xe wanted to get hit by Cassandra.

“Ava, please calm down. If you’re not careful, she’ll throw something at you. If she does that, you’ll probably dodge, and then I’ll probably end up getting hit, and then I’ll miss the concert, Lady Dimitrescu will kill me as punishment, Daniela will be sad and whiny about it, and none of you will have any peace for, like, a month. Three weeks, bare mims,” you tease, nudging xer in the ribs. Emphasizing a pout, xe sends one last look at Cassandra and her ‘friend’ (whose hand she was still holding onto like a lifeline), mouthing words you couldn’t parse. Based on the way Cassandra groans, it was something ridiculously cheesy. Regardless, xe behaves the rest of the way there…

ONE MINUTE TO SHOWTIME:

“I love you, Firefly, and I know that you’re going to do absolutely amazing out there. I’m so proud of you,” you murmur, pressing a feather-light kiss to Daniela’s cheek. As dearly as you wish to stay behind the curtain, in her arms, you know that the show was inevitable. With one last nod to your beloved, you part the fabric shielding you, stepping into the spotlight. Imaginary crowds grow hushed at your appearance, a sea of faces greeting you warmly. In truth, there are but five members in this audience, each gazing upon you with veiled interest. Donning you best presentation persona, you set this final act in motion. “Lady Dimitrescu, Lady Cassandra, Lady Bela, and Mx. Caldwell, it brings me great pleasure to present to you, on this day, a concert performed by your own Lady Daniela. For three months now I have acted as her instructor, and these three months have been, perhaps, the most rewarding of my entire life. I could not possibly be any more proud of her than I already am. Now, without further ado… let us begin!”

Stepping to the side, a tug of a rope has the curtains parting entirely, revealing your beloved, waiting ready at the piano. All at once your audience (including Cassandra’s partner, acting as a mere servant in the background) sits up with wide smiles. They look Daniela over, taking in the sight of her fanciest dress, and the way her eyes light up with joy. By the time her fingers begin dancing away at the keys, there is not a single ounce of anxiety in your entire soul. This first song is a relic from your past, a representation of an abandoned idea, yet she plays it like a celebration. It’s fast, hits hard, a bold take right out of the gate. Admittedly, it is also somewhat short. Nonetheless, it serves its purpose, igniting a spark of excitement in those present. Once the song ends, Daniela is surprised by the intensity of her family’s applause. In the back of her mind, she trembles with excitement, knowing that the best was yet to come.

Riding this wave of pride, she immediately settles into the next song, something slower but far grander. Affection thrums inside your chest as you watch your pupil perfectly execute another piece. You can only imagine what her mother must be feeling, to see just how far her daughter has come in such a short amount of time. A quick glance in Alcina’s direction reveals the barest hints towards her being impressed. For now that was enough to satisfy you. Soon enough her face would twist in surprise, as the second song ended, and a new face steps up onto the stage: Lady Bela. Wordlessly she retrieves her violin from the back of the stage, then turns to the front with a mischievous smile.

“Now, a duet! Presenting the ever-talented Lady Bela, to join Lady Daniela for a rendition of an original song, dubbed ‘Northern Lights’. Enjoy!” You call out, before once more taking your place at the side. While Daniela did not need you to count her in for her solo performances, this feels ever so slightly more important, and as such you do your best to conduct for the duration of the song. If either of the performers need it, they hide it well. Honestly, you weren’t sure if your girlfriend had looked your way even a single time so far. ‘Twas incredible to witness her. Akin to a siren, near glowing, taking to the stage as if born to grace its center. Even with Bela working her own magic, Daniela is ever the star. Together they weave a lovely song, notes rising high into the air, swirling around an enchanted audience.

When it ends, both performers give a bow, as if the entire affair had come to a close. Without hinting at what was to come, you switch places with the eldest Dimitrescu daughter. A deep breath rattles your ribcage as you find your center, reaching out to take Daniela’s hand, the two of you raising your arms upward in a display of union. For the first time this evening, Lady Alcina narrows her eyes in what feels like disapproval. But you pay her no mind. Instead you sit alongside your beloved, quietly settling into your practiced position.

There is no introduction for this song. No announcement, no showmanship, nor even a countdown into the symphony. Simply, like exhaling a breath, the two of you start to play. Your phrases echo hers, and vice versa, calling and answering, accompanying all the while, natural as anything holy in the wild. ‘Tis the second shortest song of the night, only long enough to showcase the degree of your partnership with Daniela. As the song crescendos into an ending, you manage to meet the gaze of your employer. Perhaps it is merely an illusion of hope, or a reflection of lights above, but you swear you see tears in her eyes.

“Outstanding, incredible,” she praises, rising to her feet alongside her other daughters, clapping all the while. Once again you rise to your feet, hand clasped with Daniela’s, bowing as deeply as you can manage. Before you can even process what’s happening, your girlfriend is being pulled away from you, swept up into the arms of her mother. Desperation digs like a knife into your heart, as you ache to celebrate with her, but you remain ever in the guise of a professional. “You did amazing, my dear. I cannot begin to describe how proud I am.” The family gathers around each other, buzzing with affection fit to make the hardest of hearts melt. You are left on the outside, awkwardly waiting, without a hint of acknowledgment.

Even if this concert was a measure of your skill as a teacher, Lady Dimitrescu had never bothered to consider you more than another servant. This night was about Daniela. About your secret girlfriend, the brightest star in all the skies. That is not something that bothers you, nor does it surprise you. All that makes you wish to weep is the desire to kiss her. To sweep her into your arms, with celebratory kisses, singing her name as a praise to higher powers. In the end, it takes several minutes for Daniela to pull away enough to move back to you, and even then she cannot give you the reaction she yearns for.

“I’ll come by to talk to you tonight, I promise,” she whispers, as she gives you the weakest hug you have ever felt. Then she is returning to her family, clinging to her mother with a massive grin. Soon enough you are left alone on stage, quiet surrounding you, mixed feelings gnawing at the pit of your stomach. Something feels… wrong. You cannot put a name to it. No one has hinted to you what your beloved has planned, for none but her even have a clue. As soon as she is alone with her mother, as soon as she has the smallest sliver of an opportunity, she knows what she must do. “Mother… we need to talk. I... I have a confession to make.”

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

fearless - a close reading

this is louis speaking from the heart, getting so honest it hurts. good thing these lyrics are not directed at me bc wow i would be brittle. it’s louis the strong leader shining through, the wise older brother who gently offers advice when someone he cares about is going in the wrong direction. yea ig i did that sorry 

i care about this one a lot, and genuinely it’s just another fucking banger, so here we go.

walls, track 8

*playground noises*

Cash in your weekend treasures  For a suit and tie, a second wife

(another inconsistency with louis’s album booklet: there it says “cashing” - imp “cash in” makes the most sense, since otherwise there wouldn’t be a sentence)

“weekend treasures” - earns money over the weekend? has fun? good experiences? or is it sarcastic and is “you” just escaping for the sake of it

“cash in”: exchange your fun life for the one in a suit with a wife - living a double life

“suit and tie”: trope of the businessman with the family living a lie (- she)

superficial - looks, image of someone who has their shit together

Now I’m not saying that you could’ve done better Just remember that I, I’ve seen that fire alight

i’m saying you can be better though. i’m an old friend, i know you, and i can see now that your fire has been extinguished

Tell me, do you, tell me, do you still remember feeling young? Tell me the truth, tell me, do you still remember feeling young

conversation; louis is pressing the matter gently, repeating his question with added “tell me the truth” bc “you” is lying, to louis and to themselves

“you” can live a lie all they want but louis sees through it and won’t take them lying to him too. louis wants to get the truth out of them in order to help them

always “young” - old friends, lifelong experiences

And strong enough to get it wrong in front of all these people?

“you” is not being strong atm, though they used to be

“enough” - implies that the challenges and expectations are high and it takes a lot of strength to handle them

“you” is afraid to fail, and though they used to be resilient enough to get back up when it did happen, they lost that will to fight

“all these people” - who are they? an audience, watching? people judging them? “these” also implies they’re still there, and also that they’re close to/ (perhaps) watching louis - otherwise he would’ve used “those”

general “they” on walls, always with the eerie connotation of people judging, exercising influence

“wonder what they’d say if they could see us now” - wmi

“don’t know why they put all of this on us when we’re so young” - wmi

“when they said a love like this would never last” - too young

“and they’ll say, ‘i told you so’” - only the brave

Just for tonight, look inside and spark that memory of you Strong enough to get it wrong in front of all these people

stop ignoring yourself, for once

this person has thoroughly lost themselves: they need to spark the memory first, since that “you” is buried so deep down

“spark” - “fire alight”: keeping up the metaphor of this person’s personality and life force as fire, burning bright

Fearless, fearless Fearless, fearless

remember when you were fearless? 

come on, babe, let’s be strong, proud, happy

Now if happiness is always measured By the life you design, that car on the drive

a life by design: fake

material possessions won’t bring you happiness, although “you” seems to be chasing happiness in that direction - got priorities wrong

louis’s own mentality about happiness shining through: it’s all about staying true to yourself, that’s when you’re truly happy

Then you should feel better than ever But you know as well as I, it’s all lies

“we’re in the same boat” - louis knows about this side of life: trying to chase happiness through wealth + living a lie

the life you have as a celebrity is not real: the riches, the attention, the stories; but “you” has lost sight of that, lost themselves in it - started living the lie without staying grounded in their real self, like they used to

implication that a celebrity always leads a double life, no matter what, and the way to stay sane is to keep that split in check, keep those lives separate

Tell me, do you, tell me, do you still remember feeling young?

SYNTHESIS

In Louis’s own track by track, he stays very close to the lyrics (for once) when explaining what the song is about. Additionally, our Peter Pan says that it’s about “encouraging youth and a little bit of recklessness.” *act my age starts playing*

This definitely reminds me of Louis’s relationship with a certain someone, but I’ll leave that in the middle. (There’s so many interpretations that I won’t interfere with your own findings, or my own future findings for that matter. I’d honestly love to hear whatever you think about this song!!)

In any case, Fearless is interesting in how it tells a story about someone else, someone Louis is speaking to and knows well, while it reveals a lot about Louis too. This “you” that has lost their way, lost their spark, has gone down a path that Louis could have gone down too, and maybe he almost did, or even tried out for a bit. Louis is full of patience and understanding, because he knows how hard it can be. He also knows, and says, that it’s necessary to keep re-evaluating yourself and what you’re doing in order to not get lost. He knows how easy it is to lose yourself and lose sight of what really makes you happy. It’s what he’s been singing about throughout the entire album.

Here, his friend, who he’s talking to as if he’s an older brother, almost, seems to have given up the fight without meaning to. What that fight is, in specifics, is something we’ll never know, of course, but Louis is still very revealing. Money, a second wife? If there’s one thing celebrities have said is how easy it is to lose yourself once you’re in the limelight. The attention, the money, the whirlwind of press surrounding you, a manufactured image to keep fans and labels/... as happy as possible... it sounds like hell to try to stay sane. If you have a network of people around you who genuinely care about your wellbeing, you might succeed in keeping your feet on the ground, but not everyone is that lucky. “They” might not have your best interests at heart, which is something Louis seems to have a lot of experience with. 

Being a celebrity and staying sane as a someone in the public eye involves this image that’s all lies, but Louis seems to be saying that there’s no way around it. He’s definitely been vocal about how the industry is full of shitty experiences, Copy of a Copy of a Copy as a loud example of that, but he might be saying that the public image, the front that the fans and outsiders believe in, is necessary to be able to maintain some sanity, privacy, happiness. 

What “you” has been doing, though, is leaning into that life, that image, that focuses only on material wealth, looks, having the picture-perfect job and relationship, and has lost of who they are along the way. And Louis, their friend since a long time, is asking them to calm the fuck down and use their brain for just one second to see if they can even remember who they used to be. (Honestly, if someone would ask me that? If I could spark the memory of me? I would burst into tears and sob until I was dehydrated. Seriously wtf.) 

So, I definitely think there is truth in what Louis said in his track by track, but it digs a little deeper than just asking his friend to take life less seriously. As usual.

I hope the person who this song was directed to got the message and perhaps also made the decision to spend some more time with his old friend Tommo, bc he’s on the right side of things here. (As I think he usually is.) And he’s got their back.

[angel-anoetic]

Hey! 🌿 here, I've been having Jack Manifold brain rot recently. He's so pretty and genuine and has such a nice singing voice. And then I was struck with this idea of Jack and Reader being reincarnated souls of dryads who waltz to save the world when the egg takes over and reset the timeline minus the corruption that happened and only Foolish remembers (because he's a god) even if you don't write it, thank you for writing all of my requests, it means a lot to me! ❤️

hey hey 🌿! i too have had jack manifold brain rot or it might be the gender envy but anyways- his voice is so pretty. Anon, you always give me the best writing prompts to and i always love writing your requests! i hope you enjoy !!

Don't forget to like to save, and reblog to share

c!JackManifold x gn!Reader - Saving Souls

genre: /rom, soulmates almost (?), fantasy, Dreamsmp au

warnings: none! (let me know if i missed anything)

masterlist <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time you had noticed any kind of power, you were maybe 5 years old. It wasn't too obvious at first, things that could be passed off as mere coincidence Leaves seemingly following you, flowers turning to face you.

But you couldn't ignore the big signs, the bigger things. Vines growing around you, the flowers you picked immediately sprouting a few more in their place.

It scared you, but over time you got used to it. It gave you something to do on the hot summer days and cold winter nights. Spring gave you the most power and let them flourish, literally and metaphorically.

It had been some years ago when you met a young man who went by the name Jack Manifold. It was a nice day and you decided to cross the river that surrounded your home when you came upon a field of flowers after walking for a few minutes.

There were so many that you could feel their energy fill your veins. But there was something else. Someone. An energy that matched your own, too powerful to be a plant or a part of the Earth. Then he appeared, seemingly from nowhere. A tree a few yards away suddenly a boy.

From there had blossomed, no pun intended a friendship and relationship that held so much power. You two had grown and helped each other through work through the cons of your powers. Learned how to control them before they controlled you.

So one day when you received a message from an old friend regarding a certain evil that had taken over his friends and one of his homes, you couldn't ignore his call.

You and Jack showed up a few days later, and after a brief meeting with Foolish, you considered your options as you and Jack walked to the Egg's resting place.

"Maybe we could find if its core, and if we're lucky it'll be plant-based. Or Foolish did say that there are lots of vines and other plants surrounding it. We can just bury it so deep it won't be a problem ever again."

"No, Foolish wants it gone, and I think we should exhaust all of our options, whether we destroy the Egg or not."

As you two made your way to the Egg, people began to stop and consider the new visitors. Some looked tired, others just seemed angry or upset.

Then you two found it. The entrance to its resting place. Its red color illuminating what otherwise would have been a darkroom underneath the SMP. Vines and some other plants that you weren't sure you had ever seen.

"Oh my god." You looked at Jack, his eyes glowing against the room's tainted glow.

"What is it?"

"This is worse than what I would have expected, Y/N. These plants...I've only seen them once before in a very bad place. But it could work to our advantage."

You both made your way down the stairs, the sight of the Egg pushing beyond what you could have ever imagined. It stood tall, and the pure energy and heat that it gave off were almost enough to make anyone tired.

You began to feel a sense of panic rising in you, your hands slightly shaking at the sight of the object.

You felt the energy rushing out, towards the palm of your hands as a small flutter of energy found its way to the ground. As soon as the small seeds touched the ground, they grew into enormous green and white flowers.

A terrible scream suddenly emitted from the room, one that neither of you could hardly understand.

"Y/N, do that again."

"W-What?"

"The flowers, help them grow, just like those."

You focused on the type of flower, seeing it in your mind, then three more sprouted out of the original one.

Another scream filled the room.

"Alright, I have a plan. I'm not sure it will work but I do know it's worth a chance."

You couldn't look away from the Egg. It was like a monster staring you down, one that you were seconds away from fighting.

Jack turned to you, grabbing your face gently, rubbing his thumb against your cheek.

"Hey," he whispered, "It's alright. We are gonna take care of this in no time and help so many people. And we're gonna come out of it together. Okay?"

You nodded, grabbing his hands with your own, leaning into his energy.

"Alright, the plan is simple. I am going to try and manipulate these plants and grow the ones you just did. The Egg, it doesn't like the sight or the addition of plants that aren't connected to it. So while I'm carrying that out you need to start making something to protect us. I don't care what it is, how big it is, as long as it's strong enough to get us through a really bad thing. Can you do that for me?"

"I can do that."

You both smiled until Jack spoke. "Then let's do this."

Jack picked one of the flowers and one of the crimson plants that encased the room. He placed them gently together in front of the Egg and began to focus on transforming them into whatever he could.

You on the other hand began to pull together whatever plant matter you could find. Some pieces of wood and plants you had never even seen in your life still seemed to bend your will with just a little resistance. A small burrow was slowly being formed around you. When you looked up you could already see Jack had formed a large hybrid of the red and white plant which was now surrounding the Egg in a spiral.

The screams returned, nearly knocking Jack off his feet. He was a mess, the focus combined with the pure power that he needed to do what he needed was taking its toll slowly but surely.

Eventually, the Egg's screams, while still loud, became weaker, and a sudden rumbling came from the ground around you both.

"Jack! Jack get in here!" You screamed from your makeshift plant and wood bunker.

"Just a minute!" He continued his work, the vines and leaves already infiltrating the Egg's core.

You looked up, the ceiling above you caving in slowly. Right above Jack.

All he felt was the large vine wrap around his waist, then a harsh pull as he fell next to you within the bunker, moments away from the boulder that nearly crushed him.

"Keep going! It's not over yet."

You turned your attention away from the bunker and began to help Jack. The screams had to be the worst part. Your ears were basically going numb. You weren't even sure if Jack could hear your encouragements or if you were even talking.

All you know is that both of you were trying, the shaking of the ground was strong, and a sudden bright light was exploding from the Egg.

Then silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were the first to wake up. The ringing was still in your ears, but less powerful and daunting. Jack was situated against you, sleeping peacefully.

You leaned back against your arms and tried to shake him awake. Eventually, he stirred up, and you were able to clear away your shared 'bunker'.

After you made your way back up you saw the change immediately. The skies seemed happier. People were less scared to move about town.

You and Jack walked around, people greeting you as you did. You spotted Foolish atop a hill.

When you finally met him up there he smiled.

"Y/N, thank you so much. It happened. Whatever you two did...it worked." The tears filled his eyes as he engulfed both you and Jack in a hug.

"I don't know what you did, but no one here even seems to know what happened. It's like they went to bed and woke up new people. A fresh start."

You laughed. "That's great Foolish. I'm happy we could help. It was all Jack in the end."

You both turned to each other, the light in both of your eyes new.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[nightingaelic]

Fnv Companions react to Fem Courier being trans girl (sorry feel abit of self projection today hahah)

Don't feel sorry for wanting to see yourself reflected in the world around you, we all want to know that we belong.

The Forecaster frowned, and his eyes moved rapidly from left to right as if scanning some hidden radar. "Your face does the thinking... two to the skull, yet one gets up," he said.

The courier who stood before the boy nodded and touched her fingers to her temple, almost reflexively. "That's me."

"Odds are against you," the Forecaster went on, squinting. "But they're just numbers after the two-to-one. You've changed suits once, clubs to diamonds, and now you're playing the hand you've been dealt."

At this, the courier stiffened suddenly. "Um..."

The Forecaster went on, unaware of his customer's discomfort. "But you don't let it rest, you shuffle and stack, and a gamble... a gamble that may pay off? But how? Forecast: Rapidly changing conditions."

"Um... thanks." The courier counted out the caps and handed them over to the boy, then beat a hasty retreat from beneath the overpass.

Once back atop Highway 95, she took her traveling companion aside. "Before you think I worked for some Mojave faction and deserted, that thing he said about changing suits... I didn't think he'd... what he meant was... I wasn't always..."

She sighed and ran a hand over her head. "Hell, it's about time I told you anyway. I'm trans."

Arcade Gannon: Arcade stopped her before she could stumble into an over-explanation. "It's, uh, it's okay. I... may have already known."

"You..." The courier's eyes widened. "You did? But who told you?"

"I, um..." Arcade straightened his glasses and looked up at the sky, avoiding eye contact. "Oh boy. Doctor Usanagi..."

Immediately, the courier's eyes narrowed. "... doesn't betray doctor-patient confidentiality, but I was in one of her medical clinics that day you came in for the NEMEAN sub-dermal armor," Arcade finished hastily. "She, uh, asked me and a couple of the others to help her close you up."

"Oh." The courier relaxed her stance a bit. "Oh yeah, I remember. I mean, I don't remember you, but I do remember signing the form that said I was okay with med student assistance. Why didn't you say anything, when I first asked you to tag along?"

Arcade shrugged. "I don't betray doctor-patient confidentiality either. Usanagi hammers that into you pretty hard on day one. Besides, something like that doesn't matter much outside of a doctor's office."

Craig Boone: Boone shrugged. "Okay."

The courier's eyes darted around his countenance, looking for some kind of stronger reaction. "Nothing? Not even a 'congratulations' or a disapproving grimace? Who are you, Boone?"

"Unconcerned," he shot back testily. "Unless it affects your aim somehow, it's not a problem. If that's what you're asking."

The courier sighed. "No, it's... you're fine. I guess I'm still pretty defensive about it. Especially around NCR types."

Boone nodded. "There were a few officers that Manny and I operated under who weren't the open-minded sort. They didn't last long."

Lily Bowen: Lily looked positively stormy. "Did that young man just air your personal business for the whole trading post to hear without a care in the world?" she thundered, with all her grandmotherly might. "Let's go back, dearie, I need to give him a piece of my mind."

"Lily, no," the courier protested, grabbing the nightkin's arm before she could stomp off toward the overpass again. "He probably doesn't even know what he said, it's just part of his gift. And no one's going to put two and two together unless I tell them outright, like I did you."

"If you say so, pumpkin." Lily smiled and settled herself. "But I can always ask Leo for a little help if anyone has cross words for you about this."

The courier sighed and patted her companion's arm. "No need for that, Lily. That reminds me, you should take your medication today."

Lily wrapped her up in a hug. "You take such good care of Grandma, my sweet girl."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "Mija." Raul smiled. "How long you been holding onto that for?"

The courier let out the breath she'd taken, and her shoulders sank back to a normal level. "Well not everyone takes news like that too well. I didn't know if you would... mind."

"Mind?" Raul shook his head. "Oye. I've lived a long time, out here in the desert. It's a lonely place, even if you're surrounded by a crowd on the Strip. You can lose yourself pretty easily, lose sight of what you want, what you are. I'd know better than most. If you held onto who you want to be, then that's a victory, in the Mojave."

"Um..." The courier's eyes were shiny with tears, but before Raul could comment or pull out a handkerchief, she'd enveloped him in an unexpected hug. "Thanks, viejo."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Well, I'll be a gecko's uncle." Cass grinned. "You're serious? All this time on the road together, and you didn't think you could tell me that? I'm wounded, Six."

"Hey now, you were slow to trust me, too," the courier pointed out with a growing smirk. "I was gonna tell you after the Silver Rush situation, if we made it out alive, but then we did and you were riding so high at the Atomic Wrangler that I didn't want to dampen your memory of that day."

"Dampen my..." Cass chuckled and clapped the courier on the shoulder. "Better fix your metaphor there, Six. Rain in the desert is a good thing. And trust between friends would never dampen my day."

She held up a hand before the courier could protest. "I know, I know what you were worried about. Trust me, I'm not the type to froth at the mouth over propriety or 'family values.' Thought you'd've picked up on that, with my smart mouth and wanderin' eyes."

"Wandering..." The courier ducked out from under her arm and danced away, laughing. "Uh-uh. I helped you with your vendetta, now you help me with mine. Then we'll buy a drink at the Tops and talk, whiskey rose."

Veronica Santangelo: "You..." Veronica's eyes went as wide as the Mojave's full moon. "Oh. Oh."

Slowly, the Scribe sank into a sitting position on the cracked asphalt. "That explains a few things, I suppose."

The courier sat down next to her. "Like what?"

Veronica started ticking things off on her fingers. "Both that guy in Primm and the bartender in Goodsprings called you by a different name, but they were the same name and it sounded kind of like yours so I wrote it off as a coincidence. Benny didn't recognize you right away, even though he shot you in the head. And Arcade locked us all out of your room that time you took some shrapnel to the torso and were laid up in the Lucky 38 until you weren't covered in bandages."

"Oh yeah." The courier grinned. "Surprised you didn't piece it together sooner, then."

"I sometimes forget that's something people can do," Veronica admitted. "Remember when I said that some in the Brotherhood don't look too kindly on those who choose relationships that don't produce new children? Well, ditto and worse for those who want to transition. Most of the ones brave enough to do it anyway don't stay Brotherhood for long."

ED-E: The eyebot beeped in mock surprise, then whizzed around the courier three times playing triumphant music. She giggled and swatted the bot away playfully. "Go on then. I have no idea how you could've known, but there it is."

ED-E beeped quizzically once it came to a stop.

"Why hide it?" the courier responded. "Well, unlike robots, some people think it's strange to change your... parts. Or even just your classification. Honestly, it's old-world thinking, no clue."

The eyebot beeped long and low, almost like a coo of affection and reassurance.

"Thanks, ED-E," the courier said with a smile. "I'll try to remember that."

Rex: Rex cocked his head to the side. The courier knelt down to his level and scratched his ears, inspecting his new brain and cybernetic limbs as she did.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this," she murmured, increasing her attentions as Rex leaned into her. "You probably already knew, with that amazing nose of yours. I think your owner knows, otherwise why keep spouting that line of his whenever I come around?"

Rex whined, and the courier smiled. "You know. 'Do what's right for you, so long as it don't hurt no one.' Got that seared into my brain as surely as that bullet, thanks to him. I bet that king he's worshipping never even said that."

[cactusnymph]

matters of the heart

“Sir Caroline, I must ask your advice in an important matter.”

 “You don’t have to call me ‘Sir’ anymore, Angelo. We’ve been over this.”

 “Excuse me, Caroline. Now, this important matter—“

 “Is this about Ale? Because, and I cannot stress this enough, I do not want to hear anything about your love life, Angelo.”

 Angelo has to admit that this is not the way he had hoped the conversation to go. He feels himself deflate a little as he looks at Caroline’s disapproving face.

 “But S—Caroline, I wouldn’t know who else to ask! Usually my best friend and former rival would be my first choice, but he’s not available at the moment.”

 Caroline looks at him for a moment then sighs, lowering her head into her hands for a heartbeat before looking up at him again.

 “Fine. Just this once. Next time you can just write Damien a letter.”

 “Yes, Sir—I mean. Yes, Caroline.”

 Caroline starts massaging her temple.

 “So. Spit it out. What is it?”

 “I almost can’t believe that I am saying this—truly, I think it is the first time I understand my friend Damien. I must speak my heart—“

 “Oh, for the love of—“

 “You are married to Miss Quanyii, are you not, Caroline?”

 “Yes, I am. What does that have to do with anything?”

 “So you must be well-versed in matters of the heart! How did you court your wife? I admit, I have never attempted this before and I have no idea how to go about courting a man—“

 “And why should it be different than courting a woman, Angelo?”

 Angelo pauses for a second. It was brought to his attention many times now that the distinctions between men and women he has learned about all his life might not actually be as accurate as many people make them out to be. Truly, Caroline is the best example. And now he has met Ale and Miss Quanyii, who is sometimes not Miss Quanyii but Mr Quanyii.

 Angelo considers Caroline’s words.

 “So you’re saying I should court Ale in the exact same way I would court a woman”, he says.

 Caroline rolls her eyes.

 “I do not see how gender has anything to do with this, Angelo. The way you court a person depends on the person. Not all women care for flowers and candles and love letters. I have no idea what Ale would prefer as courting; maybe he doesn’t want to be courted at all.”

 “Like Sir Talfryn, yes. I have learned about this. You are correct, Caroline and I am glad to have asked you. I shall speak to Ale about this to make sure that I am not overstepping any boundaries! I thank you for your wisdom! Hophophophophophop.”

 *

 Angelo is not afraid of anything.

 He’s not afraid of pain or fighting or dying or even things as complicated as numbers even though he is not very good at them. But when he finds Ale sitting next to Olala, showing her how to start a campfire with her little hands, something tightens in Angelo’s chest and all he can do is stare.

 Ale is beautiful. Dark skin, long hair, big eyes and long lashes, a soft smile as he tells little Olala that she’s doing well.

 Angelo feels his stomach drop; a sensation that is very similar to falling and his heart beats so rapidly in his chest that he has trouble breathing for a moment.

 Maybe he should have rehearsed this. Maybe it would be better if little Olala was not there with Ale. Maybe he was hasty when he concluded that speaking directly to Ale would be the best course of action. A warrior’s approach. Head on. The same way he always approaches difficulties.

 Ale looks up when he notices Angelo and he flashes him a grin that makes Angelo’s insides squirm around like very lively snakes. Saints, if he starts using more metaphors for how Ale makes him feel he might turn into Damien before he knows it.

 “Hey schoolboy, what can we do for you?”

 Angelo isn’t sure why it makes him feel warm and tingly when Ale calls him ‘schoolboy’, but it absolutely does.

 He clears his throat.

 “I was about to—hm. Well.”

 Angelo wishes Damien were here so he could tell him how to find the right words for this. Damien has such a knack for language and beautiful words, while Angelo—well. Angelo has never in his life understood one poem that Damien showed to him.

 “We’re making fire, Sir Angelo! I made a small flame, all without magic! Look!”, Olala proclaims excitedly and waves at the little wisp of smoke her efforts have conjured.

 “Very good, Olala. I—uh. I must take my leave.”

 And for the first time in his life, Sir Angelo The Strong turns around and flees.

 *

 “Aw, Angelo, what is it?”

 Angelo looks up as Quanyii appears out of nowhere right beside him.

 “I am afraid that I have become a coward, Miss Quanyii”, he says as he looks down at his big hands.

 “I highly doubt that, sweetie. Is this about our beautiful vigilante boy?”, Quanyii wants to know as she scoots closer to Angelo, her colorful hair surrounding her head like a cloud.

 “Yes. I have spoken to Si—to Caroline about this and she gave me important insight on the matter of courting rituals.”

“She did?”, Quanyii asks, sounding surprised.

 “Yes. She explained that courting is not a matter of gender but of the individual’s personality. She also pointed out that Ale might have no interest in romantic relationships which I had not considered before.”

 Quanyii puts her index finger to her lips and taps them thoughtfully.

 “Yes, yes, such wisdom. But have you considered asking me about this? Romance is a magical thing after all and sweetheart, I’m a witch! Caroline doesn’t know one itsy-bitsy thing about romance, let me tell you that”, Quanyii says and pouts a little.

 Angelo raises his head.

 “So you would help me in this quest to court Ale?”, he asks. The grin that spreads on Quanyii’s face makes Angelo pause. This might not be a good idea.

 “Oh, sweetie, don’t you worry your silly little head. I will give you one tip for free because we have become such good friends during those past few weeks! I know a little secret and that is that Ale does like romance!”

 Angelo feels his face light up with a smile as relief courses through his entire body. He feels like he could do a hundred push-ups right here and now. Maybe even lift Porthos. Or the whole, fallen tree he’s sitting on.

 “Why thank you, Miss Quanyii, that is most helpful!”

 He grabs both of her hands and shakes them as Quanyii giggles.

“You are so very welcome, Angelo. For every other piece of help I’m going to require a little bit of payment. A witch has to make do, you know.”

 Angelo doesn’t really understand but he nods anyway and gets up from the fallen tree trunk.

 “I do not believe that I will need further assistance, now that the issue of romantic attraction has been resolved! Sir Angelo The Strong is back on his feet! Ha ha! Hophophophophophop.”

 “Good luck, brave knight!”, Quanyii calls after him as Angelo runs back towards the camp.

 *

 Now that Angelo knows that Ale is not generally opposed to romance the path seems clear. That is, at least until Angelo arrives back at the place where Ale and Olala made their little fire before.

 The two of them are still there, but both of them are asleep. Ale is sitting with his back against a tree, his legs spread, and Olala has curled up between his legs, her tail gently snoring. Caroline sits by the fire and sharpens her blade.

 She looks up as Angelo enters the clearing.

 “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Angelo”, she says as Angelo stares at Ale’s sleeping form. His long lashes are feathered out on his cheeks and for a second Angelo imagines to brush his fingers over Ale’s cheek and give him a kiss.

 The thought immediately sends his heart into another gallop that would make Porthos proud and Angelo swallows heavily.

 “I cannot report any ghost sightings at this point, Sir—I mean. Caroline.”

 Angelo notices how Caroline’s eyes narrow as she looks him up and down and since Caroline has stated that she has no interest to know anything about Angelo’s love life he tries very hard to respect her wishes and to not look at Ale as if he’s the most beautiful thing that Angelo has ever seen.

 Which he very definitely is.

 “Oh for fuck’s sake, sit down, you oaf”, Caroline snaps and Angelo, still as an automatic response to her authoritative voice, walks over to the fire and sits down next to her.

 “Did you talk to Quanyii?”, she wants to know.

 “Yes. She cleared up a question I had and I thought it would make things easier, but as it turns out, it did not.”

 “I wouldn’t make any deals with her, witches are fickle and cunning creatures.”

 “Babe, you’re being so mean!”

 “Oh, shut it. You know it’s true.”

 “Yes, but when you say it like that it’s mean, mean, mean!”

 Angelo watches them bicker for a while before his eyes drift back over to Ale and Olala. Ale’s hand is resting on Olala’s back and Angelo looks at it for a while. Ale’s hand is much smaller than his and Angelo wonders what it would feel like to hold it. It must be rough from all the sword-fighting, much like Angelo’s hand.

 Maybe Ale doesn’t have any interest in holding Angelo’s hand. Maybe Ale doesn’t like men.

 “What is it now, Angelo”, Caroline asks with an expression on her face that says she might regret asking.

 “I forgot to consider another important thing regarding this whole courting business”, Angelo says and looks at Caroline. Quanyii seems to have vanished into thin air—something Angelo has seen happening multiple times during those last few weeks.

 “Which is?”

 “You made me aware of the possibility of Ale being averse to romantic relationships, but I forgot to consider whether or not Ale would be opposed to romantic relationships to men. I only ever knew one man who liked another man. Lizard. Does it count as a man if it is a lizard? I certainly don’t know. My point stands, though.”

 Caroline sighs deeply and cards through her short her.

 “It seems highly unlike you to ask all these questions instead of simply acting, Angelo”, she says and looks at him with a stern gaze.

 Angelo sighs.

 “Yes, I know. I am afraid I have found my most lethal opponent yet! Matters of the heart! No monster could ever best me in combat, but my own heart is betraying me.”

 Caroline puts her blade to the side and leans forward, her elbows resting on her knees as she looks at Angelo with her piercing eyes.

 “Just talk to him. It’s that easy. No one can ever truly know another person’s heart or thoughts unless they speak them out loud.”

 “Unless you’re a witch”, comes a disembodied sing-song from somewhere above them.

 “Unless you’re a witch in which case you should stay out of people’s heads”, Caroline barks up the tree and looks back at Angelo.

 “I cannot believe that I should turn into a coward for something as simple as talking. It seems highly ridiculous.”

 Caroline shrugs.

 “Emotions are hard. And I... understand your hesitance. But you should not let your feelings rule over your rational thoughts.”

 “That is a very Caroline thing to say, Sir Caroline.”

 “Stop calling me ‘Sir’ already!”

 “Certainly, Sir Caroline.”

 “Ugh.”

 *

 “Ale, can I ask you a personal question?”

 “You can ask anything you want, schoolboy. I can decide whether or not I want to answer.”

 “Oh—yes. That is very reasonable. Thank you. Uh—“

 “Sir knight, are you alright? Did you get sunburnt? Sir Caroline says it is important to not stay outside in the sun for too long!”

 “I am not sunburnt, little Olala.”

 “Ask your question, schoolboy. Is this about gender again?”

 “Uh—no. Not—huh. I suppose it is! But not in the way you think!”

 “Well then, shoot.”

 “This is more about the genders of others, I suppose! A potential paramour, one might say! I have a friend who has a fiancée but who is also involved with a man. Lizard. Male lizard? I am not entirely certain about the lizard’s gender and I was told not to assume. Anyway. What I wanted to ask—“

 “You want to know if I like lizards?”

 “No, that’s not—“

 “I was joking, schoolboy. Calm down. You want to know what kind of people I’m attracted to.”

 “Yes.”

 “I don’t much care about gender, but it doesn’t happen often that I’m attracted to people. Either romantically or sexually.”

 “Oh.”

 “I just don’t fall in love easily. And I don’t find many people hot.”

 “Hm.”

 “Any more questions?”

 “Yes, but I am afraid they would be borderline offensive and highly invasive.”

 “Well then. Let’s keep it at that, schoolboy.”

 *

 “Sir knight, are you feeling okay?”

 “Yes, little Olala.”

 “It’s just that you are usually very loud but you have been very quiet for a while. I recently learned about heatstrokes and it sounds awful and I hope you don’t have a heatstroke, Sir knight.”

 “I don’t think I have anything of the kind, Olala.”

 Olala sits down next to Angelo. He’s leaning against Porthos who’s lying down and nibbling on some grass. Ale and Caroline are investigating something and since Angelo is not the best at clues he offered to stay behind to guard their belongings and also Olala.

 “Most adults do not like to tell children why they’re sad. But if you wanted to, I would certainly listen.”

 “That’s very kind of you, Olala. Have you ever liked someone?”

 “Of course! I like so many people!”

 “Ah, yes. Hm. And were you ever scared to tell any of these people that you like them?”

 “No, Sir knight. I grew up in the Garden of Graves and we tended to the dead and my sisters always taught me that it is important to speak your heart while the people you love are alive, for you never know when they might die and then you can’t tell them anymore.”

 “That is... very wise, Olala.”

 “Thank you, Sir knight! My sisters taught me a great many things and I am honored to pass their wisdom on to others.”

 Angelo looks down at Olala’s small form and ruffles her hair.

 “I will take it to heart!”, he promises.

 *

 “Hey, Angelo. Can I talk to you for a moment?”

 They make camp by a river and Caroline takes Olala for a bath. Angelo turns around to look at Ale, who tied his long braids into a top knot. He’s wearing a white tunic that is a little too big for him and allows Angelo a view of Ale’s collarbone.

 Angelo tries very hard not to stare because he refuses to be disrespectful any more than he already was when they first met.

 “Of course, Ale.”

 Ale looks at him. Angelo would never trust himself to read people’s behavior—that has never been his forté. But he could swear that Ale looks almost a bit nervous; something that Angelo hasn’t seen on him so far.

 “So, remember that talk we had? About how I might like lizards or not?”, Ale begins and Angelo winces a little.

 “It was poorly worded and I apologize—“

 “It’s fine, Angelo. That’s not what this is about. But... you remember what I said. About not being attracted to people often?”

 “Yes. I remember.”

 “Why did you want to know that?”

 Angelo takes a deep breath and scratches the back of his head.

 “I—uh. Well”, he starts, then doesn’t know how to continue. He remembers the talks he had with Caroline and Olala and straightens his back. Sir Angelo the Strong will not back down from a challenge. Any challenge!

 “I would like to court you, Ale.”

 Ale blinks. Once, twice, three times.

 He opens his mouth, then closes it again.

 “You—what?”

 “Courting. I would like to court you. Woo you. Win you over. In the romantic sense. But I was not sure if that was something that would make you uncomfortable, so I tried to figure out if you might be opposed against courtship. By men. Or anyone.”

 Ale takes two steps towards him and Angelo has the great need to spread his arms and pull Ale close to him, but he doesn’t. He’s asking for permission and he will not ruin this by overstepping boundaries.

 A slight chuckle pulls him back to reality and he sees Ale’s eyes twinkle, the corners of his lips turned upwards.

 “Are you asking me on a date, schoolboy?”, Ale asks. His playful smile is doing things to Angelo he can’t describe because he is not Damien. But man, he almost feels the need to write a poem about that smile. That is how badly smitten he is with this wonderful, splendid man standing in front of him.

 “I suppose so! Ale, will you allow me to take you on a date?”

 Ale takes another step and raises his hand to softly flip one finger against Angelo’s forehead.

 “I thought you’d never ask.”

[nomadthor]

PROTECTOR - II - BUCKY BARNES

this is part two! click here to read the first part

prompt: the reader and bucky try to escape a sticky situation, bucky protects the reader at every available opportunity words: 1734 warnings: mentions of death, violence/gunfights, blood, angst, hurt/comfort notes: gender neutral reader

if you have any ideas or requests please send them to my ask so I can write them!

What you judged to be approximately a quarter of an hour, you apprehensively sat with Bucky’s hand cradling yours: you both awaited in strained quietude until you presumed the coast was clear after a stretch of secure silence. Despite his hesitant and disquieting demeanour, he seemed indifferent yet the elusive curl in the corner of his flushed lips told you the contrary. “We should get going now,” Bucky hoarsely commanded as he let your grip slip from his before he toiled to stand on and support his own body weight but he contrived with a throaty growl nonetheless. He briefly glanced at his bullet-ridden phone as its technical innards blistered from the globular apertures which still had fragments of the shrapnel embedded in the splintered plastic; how if only luck would have been on your side you could’ve called for help.

“Do you need a hand?” He softly questioned with delicate eyes as he presented his hand once more, you’d be being dishonest to yourself if you affirmed that you didn’t relish his solicitous, protective and balmy hands that made you feel secure and rid most of the anxiety and fret. You felt guilty and disinclined to acknowledge these feelings since ultimately you were just coworkers. “I’m good,” you muttered and heaved yourself from the floor, abruptly being reminded of the absence of room as the pair of you were now rubbing shoulders. The close proximity you both shared both filled you with satisfaction and compunction as you were anticipating the early arrival of sprouting feelings that would soon doubtlessly become unrequited; it was bittersweet. Something changed in that room and you don’t know what it was.

Frailly, he twisted the knob of the door and cautiously pulled it towards you both after becoming a human blockade as he shoehorned himself between you and the expanse of dubiety. He carefully peered around the corner with an attentive survey making sure to detect any almost imperceptible movements. With a swift flex of his head, he motioned for you to follow him as the set of you immediately scanned the conflict tarnished building for any means of self-defence: crimson stains and defunct cadavers besmirched the shattered debris rooted floor. Bucky trounced the pain from his laceration as his stagger shifted into a succinct strut with an acute limp. He hurriedly strode towards an adrift pistol with scarlet blemishes coating the finish before he checked the magazine to authenticate the unconsumed ammunition. “Take this,” he instructed unwittingly appearing abrasive but you were habituated to his inflexion and his adventitious gesture of compassion countermanded his sternness.

Hesitantly you took the weapon from his hand unsure whether you should have been first priority due to the circumstance of you not having profound wounds daubing your limbs. Bucky quickly discerned your concerned delay before he reassured you, “I’m a super soldier, I can manage,” he dryly quipped with a minute grin as he failed to find another weapon with any bullets left before he lead the way down the unsettled and dismal corridor, “besides, I trust you more than I trust myself.” Evidently, he was being sincere but you were taken aback by his forthright commendation as your conversations were plainly incisive and condensed; he was slowly unravelling to become exceedingly personable, he was just restricting this part from you whether it was deliberate or not.

He continued to escort you throughout the building acting as a human shield to protect you from any unexpected oncoming bombardment, although you didn’t refrain from keeping a close eye on your six. Bucky regularly and consistently checked on you throughout the whole ordeal and although admittedly, it was growing to become increasingly irritating it made you surge with appreciation and feel deeply indebted towards his consonant trouble. “I can handle myself,” you jested lightheartedly as you both approached a doorway and began to descend the concrete steps. “I know, that’s why I gave you the gun.” He retorted wittily as his heavy lumbering footsteps echoed through the towering washed-out stairwell. The descent was unnerving, to say the least, it put you at a monumental disadvantage due to anyone who would waylay from the upper floors would have a quality vantage point; they would metaphorically and quite literally have the higher ground. Despite this, your venture was thankfully undisturbed and you set forth to the final few rooms before you could evacuate the building and retreat to definite safety.

As you approached the final room a rogue bullet whizzed past your head, the brisk air skimming your head. The crack of the bullet as it became lodged in the wall beside you was devastatingly loud as it immediately pummeled your eardrums inevitably causing them to ring overwhelmingly. Bucky grabbed your arm and impulsively pulled you behind a counter for cover, unintentionally yanking too hard albeit with good intention. Nevertheless, you had worse things to worry about. “Where was that from?” You questioned as you clasped the gun firmly in your hands ready to tug the trigger if need be. The pair of you winced at the bullets that proceeded to soar just inches above your head as they became fixed in the now splintering walls, plastering chipping off and sinking to the floor. “On our six.” Bucky relayed as the gunfire paused which signified they’d either taken cover or needed to reload their magazine. You took this chance to peer over the ceramic tile countertop as you just barely caught the glimpse of a figure before the appearance and the shine of a metallic assault rifle instinctively cause you to duck before the bullets continued to rain once more.

The incapacitating sound of the bullets pummeling the walls and any surrounding surface ceased just about any communication as you couldn’t hear his voice over the resounding extermination. Systematically the gunshots stopped periodically as you peeked once more to return the fire which ultimately led to a drawn-out scrimmage where the winner was the one who eventually could land a shot. Alas, your gun eventually dry-fired as it choked due to the preordained fact it had run out of bullets. All that left your mouth were a string of curses as you angrily threw the futile firearm to the ground out of frustration. Your attention soon turned to Bucky who impetuously looked you up and down with dismayed eyes.

Dense and prolonged footsteps traipsed closer, sending jolts of panic through your body with every step. You couldn’t help but just stare at each other out of sheer panic and confessedly the thought of him being there with you was comforting and slightly eased the tension. He nervously bit his lip as he pondered, scrambling to think of a plan so you didn’t both become victims of the barrel of the gun that was leisurely parading closer. Bucky was already incapacitated with an injured leg so this was a major disadvantage but coming face to face with sudden death: anything was worth a try. He gave you a final longing look before hoisting himself above the counter with a struggle and promptly hurling hefty punches as the opponent made triumphant attempts at blocking them before powerfully pressing the butt of the gun between his eyes. Bucky’s neck contorted backwards as his whole body painfully and forcefully propelled to the floor headfirst with a belligerent thump. What could’ve easily knocked someone unconscious merely left him with obscured vision as he crawled backwards towards you.

The vermillion began to seep from his head as it left a sizeable gash on his eyebrow. Bucky’s head swayed as he barricaded himself between you and the formidable stranger who was glancing down the iron sight with a wicked grin, only doing it to savour the fear and panic, he elongated the process. Bucky looked absolutely woeful presumably thinking you were disappointed and displeased with his final efforts. The eye contact you made was beyond intimate and familiar. It was too late to do anything with the barrel of the gun pointed right at you, any sudden movements and you were unmistakenly dead. Bucky hopelessly and desperately embraced you as he used his hand to cradle your head into the crook of his neck. Exposed to all danger, his back was facing the gunman as he was willing to catch any bullets for you.

A sudden bang caused you to jump in your skin but was attenuated by Bucky’s secure and caring clutch. Staying nestled for a few seconds longer, the quietude became eerily bemusing as you pulled back from his embrace but arms still lingering on you. His eyes were wide and bewildered but relieved, they immediately scanned your body for any punctures before he even gazed down at his own body. He swivelled his cricked neck to witness the gunman face down and a bullet wound centred in his chest. A thud of a door being booted open as it slammed against the wall with force, you’d never felt so grateful in your life to see the familiar face of Sam who examined the room, panic-stricken, to find you both. He stared for a while at your clutched bodies, “come on love birds we’ve got to go,” he jested completely destroying the tension and morbidity in the air. Bucky gently turned his gaze back to you as he examined your face looking for any reaction out of Sam’s statement. Maybe he was looking for your revulsion or a snide remark but your silence spoke volumes as you slipped out of his arms and helped him up.

“Let’s get you patched up,” Sam composedly stated in regards to Bucky’s blood-engulfed leg, and the streak of red that flowed down his forehead. “How did you find us?” Bucky confusedly questioned as he approached Sam, bolstering his neck which probably was going to accompany an agonising concussion. “I traced your signal before it went offline, sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.” Sam apologised as the pair continued to the exit of the building as you followed, lingering just behind. Completely ignoring the words that were being spoken to him from Sam, Bucky turned around and shot you a gentle gaze, his eyes soft and tender as he tried to analyse you again. Ambiguous as to whatever he was looking for he surely was going to get his answer sooner or later. What brings people closer than desperately hugging each other at death’s door?

-

= masterlist =

[tar-oh]

Pick a Pile: What do you need to hear right now?

Good news, folks! My semester is over! So, hopefully, this means my stress levels will not be as high and I'll have more energy to do more pick-a-piles! Today we're going to look at what you need to hear. Gonna be honest, all the piles seem related. It could be that they all hold a message for one person, or they're continuations of the others? Or they could be messages for people in situations that are related to one another? I'm not sure, but there's some connection between all three tbh. However, only read what you're feeling called to read. That means you can have more than one pile. I also have to put my normal disclaimer here: This is a general reading. Not all of it is going to apply to you. In addition to this, this is current energy and it can change by tomorrow. There is such a thing as free will, and we all need to remember that. If you do find that you resonate heavily with one (or two or all) of these piles and you want to know more, I am available for readings. Just DM me about it and I'll get back to you ASAP. I also have my cashapp and Paypal listed in my bio if you feel the need to tip (but it's not required) So, for the piles, pick an outfit worn by Fran Fine in season 1 of The Nanny!

Pile 1:

Cards: Cat, Eclipse, Saturday morning cartoons, Picollus, Alastor, Voices, Flying Without Wings, 7 of Cups, 6 of Wands, Wheel of Fortune, Full Moon in Scorpio, Friendliness, Joy, Page of Wands, The Emperor, The Hierophant

Oof I just got REALLY warm. I'm not sure what that means, but I think some are you are furious at someone. Well, you're asked to release the negativity (Full Moon in Scorpio), and also the bottom of the deck of the Moonology cards was Bring Love Into the Situation. The song on currently is Are You on Your Way by Middle Class Rut, and I take this to mean...are you coming home? Like, to yourself. I think some of you have allowed others to influence who you are, losing sight of who you are. There's something coming, or maybe this has already happened, but it's good. Possibly an achievement? However, there are underlying issues within this or around you. I take this more as outside voices, that part about being influenced by others again. I think the Voices card is one thing to look at about this. From this, I get two things. The first being that you need to listen to your own voice, your own judgment. The second is that you should ignore any voices on the outside. By this I mean, like family or friends. I really get that some of you have family or friends around you that are giving you their advice, but that it's no good. The Picollus card talks about long-standing feuds (specifically family feuds) and the Alastor card talks about not being vengeful. So I think maybe there are some not-so-kind things that are being said, either about you or others and you're being asked to not listen to them.

But, with the 6 of wands, wheel of fortune and Flying without wings, I see that there's something you're about to achieve or have just done. The bottom of the deck for the tarot was the tower, so for some, this is sudden. Maybe a promotion? Or, graduation, so a culmination of things leading up to something. But, I'm seeing that this can only be good if you're careful with where you get advice from and how you act. I'm not saying to ignore all advice, but I think when you hear advice, you're aware of what's good for you/will work for you and what won't. With the eclipse card, I can see that there are some things that may be unknown to you right now, and maybe this tower card on the bottom is coming energy (or past, depending on where you are at). The energy of this pile is NOT bad. It's more cautionary. There's a lot here about your shadow side, and I really want to stress that your shadow side isn't something to hate. It's a part of you. So I think you're being asked to be mindful of your actions towards others but also other's actions towards you, while also being kind to yourself?

Moving Along by 5sos came on. I was going to say that it feels like some of you are moving on from something, and maybe it's a breakup or a past failure, but now you're moving into better times like you're succeeding with something else. Moving on. But, I think there's a bit of fear here. For a few, there's resentment. I'm not saying you don't have the right to be resentful, but in the cards, there is a warning to be careful not to allow that to overtake you. The bottom of the Witches Oracle is Greet the Darkness, and this tells me that if you are feeling that resentment, you're being called to feel it. I don't think you can just ignore it, because it will eat away at you. However, you're being asked to feel it and then let it pass. So, again, kind of goes back to moving along, right? You also are being asked to find your voice and not use other's voices to dominate your thoughts/actions.

You know, it's not even a song that came on, but I was thinking about Harry Styles' song, Treat People with Kindness and I kind of am getting that message here? Like, I think overall, this is just a call to be good. Like, to discern what you hear, but also to be the best you can be. Do not to give in to the temptation of being a less than stellar person. I think it's a warning to be careful. Like, an ego thing?

I feel like there's something missing though? Like, I'm at the edge of what the overall message of this pile is, and they all seem to connect, but it's on the tip of my tongue and it won't come out? So, I wonder if there's also a need to speak up? We did get Voices. Also 7 of Cups can be about having too many choices that you're stuck trying to decide. It can also be about being stuck in the clouds. So, maybe there's a need to figure out what you want to say and say it? As concise as possible, but not too blunt? I had to go back and pull a couple more cards from some other decks (so, the Moonology cards are part of that). The other two cards I pulled from my Affirmators! deck and they were Joy and Friendliness. So!!! Yes, please treat people with kindness! But I also think this is kind of a treat people the way you'd want to be treated, so like, greeting meanness with a smile? Don't Take the Money came on, and I'm really noticing the line: "Buy back the secrets". This song is ultimately about not giving in to greed. Like, not choosing greed over love, and I think that's part of this message. I can see this resentment bubbling under the surface and I sound like a broken record by now, but? I think you're not really meant to allow it to bubble.

Also, I think you guys are my music group because I got SO many songs for you? I also was all ready to wrap this up, thinking "Well, there's that, I think I'm done." But again, I was still feeling like I was missing something and then a song called Something Left To Give by The Starting Line came on, so here I am pulling more cards. We got Page of Wands, The Emperor, and The Hierophant. But then...the bottom of the deck was The Tower again? So, first off. I think a lot of you are definitely ignoring something, like a lesson you're meant to be learning? And I think it has a lot to do with surrounding your ego and maybe reaching into the shadows. But I also think it has to do with holding grudges while also holding onto toxic things, such as thoughts or people? I think, with the Emperor and the Hierophant here, you have the ability to be kind while also upholding your boundaries, but I think this is less about how you are and more about how you need to be. And sometimes...that's about upholding boundaries with yourself, whether it be letting go of certain behaviors or thoughts, or making sure other people do not cross those boundaries. Another thing I'm getting is that there may be certain beliefs you hold about yourself or others, or even the world, that need to be changed. I get this "My way or the high-way" feeling from the Hierophant and the emperor, and I think that if you have this attitude, you're being asked to really rethink that. It's okay to not be right all the time, and it's also okay to make mistakes. It's also okay to change your mind. To find that what you once believe doesn't really hold up anymore. I just think it's SOMETHING to get the tower on the bottom of two different decks, and I think this is about well, I'm getting shipwreck imagery in my mind. Crashing those beliefs? Wrecking them? Burning them down and starting over. Saying to yourself: "Hey, I don't really need this anymore. It doesn't match who I am now and where I want to go. I can let this go now." And, this can apply to more than just beliefs. I am using the Daemon tarot and the bottom deck energy was brooms which has the same meaning as the Witches Oracle Brooms card: Cleaning. It can mean physical cleaning (and it IS spring. I know I need to clean lol), but it also can talk about purification. So, purging those beliefs that do not fit anymore and getting rid of what does not serve you. What is not working for you anymore? What isn't helping you be the best person you can be? It's not about quitting things cold turkey one morning. It's about slowly allowing those things to fall away. So I'm not saying you need to get up and both physically and metaphorically clean your life. I'm just saying, to start that process. Ya know? Getting a garbage bag ready and filling it as you go.

I really think there is something good happening for you but I think you need to keep yourself grounded in reality and to be the best you can be while this is happening. I also think you need to not allow others (or your own self) to get to you. I don't see anything in here saying you are a bad person, I just see that there's a reminder being made to be good and be the best you can be, which also includes making sure that what you have in your life is good for you. Nothing drastic has to happen (if you don't want that), but mindfulness is needed.

YIKES, that was long lol Also, side note, the bottom card for my Dreams deck was Animals, and I think if you've been having a lot of dreams involving animals, this was meant for you especially. I could barely fit all the cards in this picture, so I didn't take a pic of the animal card, but if you're dying to see it lmk lol The bottom of the Affirmators! deck as Trust. It just talks about how you know you'll be okay. Personally, when I'm having really bad days, I usually write in my journal "I am okay. I will be okay." Idk, just something I do that helps me. It's small, but it gives me hope. Songs: Kamikaze - WALK THE MOON Moving Along - 5 Seconds of Summer (the bass in this song is honestly top-tier :) ) Are you on your way - Middle Class Rut Treat People With Kindness - Harry Styles Don't Take the Money - Bleachers (Specifically the version Ft Lorde) Funny Business - Alice Merton The Abyss - DBMK

Pile 2:

Cards: Full moon in Gemini, Beauty, 5 of Cups, 9 of Cups, 6 of Cups, Murder, Pineapple, Confetti Rainbow, Money Green, Passing Notes, Nature Spirits reversed, Lamia, Astaroth, Cali, Knight of Pentacles reversed, 4 of Wands, King of pentacles

This group has a very specific message that comes out. It took a bit to get there, but I wanted to say that this is a specific situation. If you were called to it, then by all means carry on reading. However, if you find that you do not vibe with what this is saying, then this might not be your pile. However, I think there also might be a few bits here and there for some people, and not the whole message, so maybe try it out first.

First off, I get similar vibes to pile 1, but this pile seems more to be in a victim mentality. I'm not saying you don't have a right to feel that way, but I'm getting that there's a line and that you're either already past it, or you're near it. That line draws a boundary between feeling sorry for yourself and on the other side: feeling sorry for yourself that you play victim, never taking responsibility for yourself/actions. Get a defensive energy (I wouldn't be surprised if you were reading this and thinking that it may not be your pile because you're denying it? Hey, I do that all the time. I'm pretty guilty of this). I think a lot of you have had a tough time recently, or are still in the thick of it. I'm here to say that it will pass, but that you can't allow this to turn you bitter. Nor can you use this to take it out on other people. There's a strong message about making sure you don't do that. Also, not to manipulate others? I think there's a possibility of falling into this mentality that you're the victim and may be manipulating people into feeling sorry for you. I just get a weird manipulative vibe and I think maybe some of you can have the tendency of doing this, possibly even without being aware of it.

There's also a message of lightening up, allowing yourself to have fun. To stop focusing on the negative aspects of a situation, and find the humor in it. It may be something hard to do right now, but I think you'll find that maybe one day soon, you'll be able to do so.

Also, there's another side note about someone else? This can be a father figure, a boss/ceo figure? This could just be someone who embodies the King of Pentacles (he's the CEO type, has his shit together, is stable, more on the materialistic side of things, etc.). Whether this is you (could be!) or someone else you know/will know, I don't get bad vibes. I mean, I pulled the 4 of wands with that card, so I think it's kind of this stable energy whoever this is. However, there also is the Knight of Pentacles reversed, which can represent carelessness. The Full Moon in Gemini talks about being careful with one's words, like that whole "Less is more" idea when communicating. I think these two go together, and I think it just is someone who is a little too direct and blunt. I get work vibes tbh, so I think this could involve your workplace, so possibly a boss? Passing Notes talks about gossip/rumors, so I think this is like...A warning not to gossip or even to not believe everything you hear? I don't get any romance vibes but I think this could involve something that never took off? Oh, I was going to delete that, but I actually listened to what the song I was hearing was saying, Contagious by Boys Like Girls. This has sent me down a whole other path for another message lol

So, this might apply to some of you, but I think you may be involved with someone (or want to be?) who is the King of Pentacles, but they're kind of horrible at communication (or one of you is). I think they're more money-focused, and maybe they hear shit about you that has shaped their opinion about you (or vice-versa). But despite this, they like you. I think they don't quite know how to express themselves, and maybe you're feeling down about this because maybe you don't think they're into you? I still think this is work-related though. That, or this is someone who is just super focused on their work. But, I have 9 of cups and 6 of cups, so I think you're kind of what they're looking for and maybe they feel at home with you.

For some, you're being warned about this person. They can be manipulative/play the victim. For others, maybe they do that, but I think it's something being worked on. Either way, someone in this situation is having a lot of trouble expressing themselves. There is anxiety surrounding this situation. I get it on both sides. But I think for some there is some communication coming. Or at least an action that will communicate things. It seems like something practical if it is an action, but friendly. OMG what kind of relationship is this? Like what kind of a dynamic do you have? Because Drug by Simple Creatures came on after and it just feels like the song Contagious. Like this idea of being addicted to the way someone makes them feel? I think this is someone that can compartmentalize their feelings...but I think with you...it's harder? Okay, now I'm just getting nosey...I want to explore whatever the fuck THIS is further, so I'm going to pull some more cards.

SHHH Don't tell the other piles I got really fucking nosey and pulled more cards. :/ So, what I get about this King of Pentacles person is that they may already be pretty established in their life? I got Ten of Pentacles, which talks about that happy family, but like. More-so, the material aspect, like needs being met. This could just mean someone who's got their own place and a good position in their job. With the Knight and Page showing up, I think that if this is work-related, you're under them in terms of position? I get this message a lot actually, about a boss/employer relationship? So, I think this is an ongoing thing. Who is this for? Lemme know if this is you lol bc this comes up so much and like. I don't think it's me because I don't have a love life to speak about. Just crushes on unavailable men. Anyway, I think that whoever this is, they can't express their emotions. This could be because of someone else in the picture. There are a lot of court cards here, also, bottom of the deck for this is The Empress. So a mother, either there is or the mother of their kids if they have kids? Or someone who they see/saw as the mother of their future kids? Could be roles reversed, and that this is the father. Take whatever resonates doesn't have to be a woman and the king does not have to be a man. But, I think this burdens them. Like, they have a lot of responsibilities that rest on them, and they're unable to express what they want to express to you because they're "chained" to these feelings. You know, I almost get like...Less another relationship and more a social standard, or company issue because in both the Page of Hazards (pentacles) and the Empress, there are kids being chained to something (They ARE zombies but...interesting that two cards that have chains are pulled...). Even more interesting is that the kid in the page of hazards is chained to a mailbox with cobwebs, so I get communication issues with that. I think it's both hard to express their feelings because they're not someone who does so openly or easily. But also, they just cannot because of external circumstances. So, like If you came here because of some work/love situation...Then. There ya go...The feelings are there, but cannot be expressed. At least, not at this time. And maybe that's where that victim mentality comes in? Like, a "Why me?" or "Why can't it be easier?" Because I kind of relate to this pile, and I get how fucking annoying it is to hear "The feelings are there but can't be expressed". It hurts, I know.

But. Here I am to remind you that you got that Beauty card, right? I wasn't sure how it really factored into all of it, and was just going to use it as a reminder of your beauty, and I guess I am doing that now. But I'm also going to tell you something someone once told me: You deserve someone that will give you their time. By that, you deserve someone who feels for you and can openly express how they feel for you. I'm not saying this King of Pentacles person is a bad person, or that they're not for you, but it just seems like right now is not the time for this to work out. I don't see anything that says it won't work out, but on the other hand, I don't see anything that says it will. I think its just one of those things where you're going to have to be patient with. The song I ended your reading on is Space Travel by Yellowcard. It's about getting lost in someone and loosing who your are within this other person. Like, loosing your personality. I'm not sure where you are with this person, but I think this is reminding you to take care of yourself first. Whoever this person is, they have other things they need to take care of first, too. I also think they're putting themselves first. I don't want to say move on entirely, because that can be hard. It can seem impossible some days. I do want to say, however, that you need to make sure you're not waiting around on this person. There are so many other people in this world, and I find it impossible that you only find "it" (whatever "it" is that you found within this person) with this one person. Which, again, sounds like an impossible thing to say. Like that saying "there's other fish in the sea". I personally hate when people tell me that. But, one day you're going to have a memory of this situation and it's not going to ache as much. I can't guarantee there won't be a sting, but I can guarantee that with time, it feels better. Songs:

Slow Burn - Kacey Musgraves Contagious - Boys Like Girls Drug - Simple Creatures Space Travel - Yellowcard

Pile 3:

Cards: 4 of Pentacles, the Empress, the Emperor, Hanging at the Mall, Clouds, Gel Pens, Lamia, Andras, Pumpkin, Being Lost/Losing Something, Ideal Partnership, New Moon in Sagittarius, New Moon in Libra, King of Wands, 9 of Wands, Wheel of Fortune This pile seems related to the other two? I'm not sure why but all the piles had this weird "Spring cleaning" theme, about clearing what isn't working. But this pile seems to specifically be about love. So, I think if you're trying to move on from something/someone, this is a sign that things will be turning in your favor. Firstly, we pulled the emperor AND the empress. However, similar to how in Pile 2, where I felt the King of Pentacles in that pile was someone unable to express their emotions (its so odd that I got that, because I also got an emperor vibe but didn't pull it, but here it is in this pile?), I get that...this could be you? Because the New Moon in Libra suggests that someone is coming into your life that CAN express their emotions, but in one of the songs that came on, Headphones by WALK THE MOON, there's a line where he sings: "I wanna open my heart, but you won't open the door." Similarly, there's a part in Eyes are Red (Don't be Afraid) by Deep Sea Diver, where she sings "Don't be afraid". I kind of read into this song is about expressing one's feelings. But, we have the 4 of pentacles here, and it can be about hoarding. And in this sense, I'm getting...hoarding feelings? Like, keeping them in. But, they're there, at the tip of your tongue, they just can't get out. I think for some of you, this comes from past hurt. You closed your heart and you're afraid to express yourself, but I think you're being asked to allow yourself to heal while being open about your feelings. I think there is someone coming in (King of Wands), who is going to want to know about you and you're going to be a little worried to open up? But, these cards say it's okay to open up. You have two cards that indicate luck, and also you have a card indicating that you're protected (Pumpkin talks about being protected). I think this "Spring cleaning" is more about clearing out your emotions...letting them out? I think once you open up more, you're going to find that there are a lot of opportunities for you, you just need to be open to them. I think you're getting there, though, and with the Empress, I can see that you're healing from something. I always get that "nurturing" vibe from that card, but I definitely am reading this as you nurturing yourself, but maybe this involves you keeping things inside? Nevertheless, we got a pair, the Empress and the Emperor, so I could also read this as counterparts. I'm reading them as mostly you but I also can see this as you and someone else. One interesting thing is that I see the guy on the 9 of wands following the King of Wands. Not sure if that makes you feel of anything, but I read 9 of wands as persistence. This makes me think of the song Ends of the Earth by Lord Huron (which came on during this reading). The idea of following someone to the ends of the earth (let's hope they're not a flat earther...). I think this is someone really dedicated to you if you let them be. This song is also really beautiful and gives off this certain vibe that I can't really explain. It's like...One you need to experience? But I think this person could give off that vibe to be honest. I don't even know how to word this. Omg, there's a part in this song where he sings "I was a-ready to die for you baby, doesn't mean I was ready to stay." A SAGITTARIUS VIBE THAT WAS WHAT I WAS SEARCHING FOR! I've read that people with prominent Sagittarius placements need to have room. So, I wonder if this is someone (or even you) that needs to have that space? That's what that song feels like to me, though! I also kind of am thinking about that Ideal Partnership card and how it says that what your looking for is looking for you. There's a song that came on called First Grade by Max Leone, and he sings "I think about working out something with someone like you. I've looked

around, never found something or someone like you." I think that this is a person that definitely wants to pursue something and I think that this is telling you that you need to be open to it if you want something like this to happen. I think this song also highlights the need for action but being afraid to take action. I don't really see too many action-oriented things, but I see that being social is kind of something that needs to happen? I do get a Fool vibe from this, though. Like, taking a leap/risk? I don't know what kind of a risk, but I can see that you're being called to action in some way. In Pile 2, one of the messages was this need to not allow a victim mentality to take over. I could see that in here as well. I think it's like, whatever you went through in the past to make it hard for you to open up, happened. You have the right to feel that pain. But, then, you also have to move on at some point and heal? The Couds card talks about shifting and adapting. I don't have too many other cards about adaption, outside of maybe the 9 of wands being about persistence (and by this, I mean persisting change within?). I could take the 4 of pentacles, though, and say that this idea about not budging and "hoarding" your feelings definitely needs to be gone. I think this also is more than just about love. This can also be about making friends, in general. I think there's a sense of loneliness in this group that I didn't really feel for the last two groups. I almost wonder if this group is...the other end of group 2? Because there was someone else within that energy, and I could see you being that other person lol Whatever the case is, the big message of this group is to open up and not hold your emotions in. Songs: The Scientist - Coldplay (this has nothing to do with this reading, but I found out today that Chris Martin had to learn how to sing this song backward so that they could film the video in reverse so now it's extra weird watching it) No News is Good News - New Found Glory Ends of the Earth - Lord Huron First Grade - Max Leone

[heckpup]

Hahaha I did the Ranboo thing here y’all go have some food hope you enjoy it I stayed up again. And I made art!! (It’s in the middle, where it’s actually relevant. Don’t go looking for it, let it come to you.) :D enjoy!!

(Edit: I LEARNED HOW TO DO THE KEEP READING YESSSS)

Phil does not know very much about Ranboo.

What he does know he can count on two hands.

1. Ranboo is half Enderman, half something else. (Phil doesn’t know what the other half is, but he’s not going to ask.)

2. Ranboo exhibits many Enderman-y traits, which can be expected in hybrids.

3. Ranboo has memory problems.

4. Ranboo likes being with people

5. Ranboo could probably use therapy. (as could most people on the SMP)

6. Ranboo is loyal to his friends, regardless of side.

7. Ranboo likes animals.

8. Ranboo easily succumbs to peer pressure.

9. Ranboo hates Dream.

10. Ranboo lives with Phil and Technoblade.

It’s sad, really, how little most people knew about the tall boy. Philza knew that the only people who knew more than him were Dream, maybe Tommy, and (if he wanted to push it) maybe Niki.

But, regardless, Phil knows that Ranboo likes animals! (He doesn’t think about all the pets that died in the creation of L’Crater, or the time he found Ranboo in the doghouse, surrounded by the Hound Army, crying.) So, what could be cooler than taking Ranboo to see the turtle farm!

Ranboo had loved the green aquatic animals. He had rushed over, in all his Enderman glory, to awe at the turtles. Phil watched Ranboo’s ears perk up, listening to the movement, and his long tail waved behind him. One of the turtles, a female, Phil vaguely think, walks- slides?- over to Ranboo, before looking up at him and perching herself on the fence so Ranboo would pet her head in a very un-turtle like manner. Ranboo, frankly, doesn’t think too hard about it clearly, since he’s to overjoyed at the turtles and petting her head to think about the ‘how’s’ and ‘why’s.’

The sight in front of Phil, the happy Ender-hybrid with the Antarctic Empire cloak that Techno loaned him, with the golden crown and white shirt and beaming face, makes Phil suddenly think ‘Snow Prince.’

He doesn’t know why.

But what he doesn’t know is that something in him has changed, given him the want to pull out the metaphorical-not so metaphorical- adoption papers for the fourth time.

— — —

It’s a few days later when he has the thought again. He and Techno are discussing their newest roommate and the living conditions they are in.

“So,” Techno says. “This house is gettin’ kind of small, and none of us want to put effort into expandin’. I obviously get my room, since it’s my house. You already have yourself situated ‘n the room across, but currently Ranboo is occupyin’ that one and you’re forced on the couch.”

“Do we really have to kick him out though? He’s just a kids, Tech.” Phil jokes halfheartedly. They’re planning on building a new building, maybe a new house. The problem is who’s going to live in it. Techno won’t, since this is already his house, and Ranboo shouldn’t be living alone, but Techno needs Phil to help with the voices, since they only ever change from needing blood to needing “Dadza” (Phil heard him mutter it once and he smiled) when he’s around.

So, it all comes full circle. Who’s going to live in the new house?

“Listen Tech. What if we, hear me out, we just extended the house a bit so no one has to leave.”

“But that’s work, Phil! It took me a while to finish buildin’ this house, and I’m not ready for renovatin’!”

He can see the amusement on the Piglin hybrid’s face, as they banter back and forth about the choice.

Then, with a sudden movement, Technoblade is standing up and walking over to the doorway. He pulls out a black and white figure- when did Ranboo wake up?- and sits him down at the table.

“Ranboo!” Phil says, pleasantly surprised and mildly confused. Why does Ranboo look angry and close to tears? “How long we’re you listening?”

“Longer than you’d like, I’ll bet.” Ranboo’s answer is short and snippy, and whoa, Phil can almost taste the resentment and tension in the air. Phil almost asks him what’s wrong, but Ranboo beats him to the punch.

“So, you guys are tossing me out? I’ll go pack my things then, again.” And every question Phil had is suddenly tossed out the window and replaced with a new one.

“Wha- Ranboo, what are you talkin’ about?” Techno asks in surprised shock, while Ranboo looks both like a kicked puppy and an angry cat at the same time. “We’re not gonna kick you out.”

“Oh really? Then what was all that about? ‘Do we have to to kick him out?’ Not wanting to expand the house ‘cause it takes work?” Ranboo’s tail lashes angrily around the chair.

“What? Mate, we weren’t talking about actually kicking you out! Techno and I are planning on building a smaller, one person house over where we’re moving the kennel, and we were talking about who’s going to live in it because I don’t know if you noticed, but this house is a little small.”

Phil watched as Ranboo digests what he’s said, thinks about it, pieces it all together, and suddenly, Ranboo’s much calmer. “Oh.”

Ranboo looks out of the window behind him, surveying the land that Phil had pointed out the day before. “I wouldn’t mind watching over the dogs, I think.”

Phil and Techno give each other a look. “We figured, but I didn’t want you living out there alone. I mean, you’re just a kid, mate,” Phil says, silently glad that Ranboo no longer thinks that what- they’re kicking him out? Why would they do that? Ranboo’s a great kid!

He hears Ranboo mutter about how it “wouldn’t be the first time anyway,” and suddenly he’s hit with the urge to both immediately adopt this kid and also burn whoever did that to Ranboo until they’re nothing but a small pile of ashes and then dance on them.

Philza knows a lot more about Ranboo by the time Ranboo moves into the small home by the dogs.

1. Ranboo suffers from voices like Phil’s eldest. (Is it just a hostile hybrid thing?)

2. Ranboo has abandonment and trust issues.

3. Ranboo must, at all times, be kept away from Dream.

4. Ranboo loves turtles.

5. Ranboo is now Philza’s new son. (In his heart, at least.)

[prettyboybarzal]

Dancing with Our Hands Tied

Pairing: Pierre Luc Dubois x Reader

A/N: this is a multi-part fic for PLD!!! we all simped over him for a hot minute and i decided to capitalize on it because i mean......... look at him. so, enjoy a little enemies to lovers trope w/ one of my favorite frenchmen. PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!! and thank you to @bandgirlsclub​ for all the help w/ my lil writers block. love u bb. she elevated my dialogue so much. if you don’t follow her, please go follow her now. and then enjoy chapter one!

Word Count: 2.6k

Masterlist // Next Chapter

Pierre didn’t like you because you didn’t like him and no one disliked Pierre Luc Dubois, especially in the city of Columbus. He was a legend. He was the star player, the future of the Blue Jackets. Everyone loved him, except you, so he hated you.

The feud started during his rookie season. He marched into the city of Columbus with his shoulders squared, his head held high, and his ego the size of Nationwide Arena itself. On his very first night out with your friend group, he’d gotten you kicked from a club after starting a fight and then poured his entire drink down your back as you waited for Ubers on the curb.

Out of frustration, you ended up foregoing the car to walk home, despite the protests that came from the other boys. And Pierre laughed as you walked away, amused by the liquid stain on the back of your favorite going out shirt.

No apology ever came, and that was a wrap on any potential friendship with him.

Three years later, nothing changed. Though these days, as Pierre’s comfort around you rebounded, he didn’t avoid you and instead made it his job to antagonize you whenever you were around. He made comments about your outfits, flirted with your friends that had clearly been told to steer clear of him, and fucked up your drink orders whenever he bought rounds for the group. Mostly, you took it in stride with a few choice curse words slung his way, but over time you started to antagonize him right back.

“Asshole at three o’clock.”

It took a moment, but your eyes followed the metaphorical clock of the bar and fell on the group of Blue Jackets pushing their way through the crowd. Leading the way was Pierre sporting a cocky smirk on his lips. He made his way around the group of girls, hugging each one before reaching you and ultimately opting not to say hello and just head for the bar. As soon as he stepped away you were making retching noises with your mouth.

“Back at it again, I see,” Josh Anderson spoke as he wrapped his arms over your shoulders. “You two would get along really well if only you tried.”

“I don’t want to try,” you responded. This earned the laughter of their other teammates, Seth and Boone, as they sat in the open seats at your bar top and joined the conversation that had been on hold for hugs hello.

When Pierre returned to the table, he was toting a tray of drinks. One by one, he placed each glass down with its rightful owner until the last two remained. And then he placed a Shirley Temple in front of you.

“It’s virgin.”

“Just like you,” you spat. While the table erupted in laughter, you stood to get a drink of your own. Preferably one that was heavy on the liquor.

---

Despite everything else, going out with him wasn’t all bad because after a while he just got distracted. He would slink away from the group and find himself surrounded by a bunch of local university students and you were free to enjoy your night without him chirping in your ear. While Pierre and Seth scouted the bar for hot single girls, you stayed back at the booth with your girlfriends, Josh, and Boone.

Drinks flowed as easily as the conversation, as usual, and up until about 11 p.m. there was nowhere else you’d’ve rather been. Until Charlie texted you.

“Uh oh, Chuck’s at it again.”

Josh was peaking over your shoulder.

“Would you stop being nosey?” you growled, angling your body away from him so he couldn’t read your texts—most of which were ‘u up’ texts. “And stop calling him Chuck. It makes it sound like I’m sleeping with a father of three.”

“You might as well be,” Boone said. He dodged the rolled-up napkin you sent his way with a chuckle.

The boys always liked to chirp you for your taste in guys, but Charlie was by far their favorite to make fun of because of the eight-year age gap you shared.

“Remember when YN would stay out past midnight?” Boone mused.

“Yeah, I do,” Josh sighed dreamily. “But then she got wifed up by a silver fox.”

“A silver fox?” you asked, trying your hardest to suppress the grin on your lips. “He has black hair.”

“That’s because he probably dyes it.”

More giggles fell from their mouths until you glared at them and their mouths snapped shut.

You met Charlie on a dating app and while things hadn’t progressed past that one night of dinner and drinks, you didn’t mind the casual sex that resulted from it. It was exactly what you needed at this point of your life—no strings attached.

I just called you a car. Should be there in 10 minutes.

You took the final swig of your drink and stood. The boys’ eyes followed your movement, knowing smiles on their lips.

“I’ll see you guys later this week, yeah?”

You said your goodbyes, ignoring the last-minute jabs the boys wanted to get in, and began to search the bar for Seth. You spotted him at a table across the bar with a gaggle of petite girls and Pierre by his side. The moment you looked over at them, Pierre caught your eye.

You started walking over as he checked the time on his watch. 11:45 p.m. You never left before midnight.

Seth opened his arms as you approached and you folded into them as you said your goodbyes. Something about the interaction had Pierre turning away to talk to the girls they’d met. It was the same pit in his stomach type of feeling he got whenever you were around, whenever you embraced the other boys with a quick peck on the cheek or laughed at one of their shitty jokes.

He heard you say your final goodbye to Seth and your shoulder brushed against his back unknowingly as you avoided saying goodbye to him. He almost let you go unbothered, but his need to talk to you just once more was overwhelming. At the very last second, he turned and caught your elbow.

“Who’s got you running off before midnight, Cinderella?”

“It’s funny you think you deserve an answer to that question,” you growled, pulling your arm out of his grasp in disgust. He leaned back against the table with a smile. Your eyes flickered to the girls behind him, one with a glare set on you as she sipped her drink. 

A lightbulb went off above your head.

You stepped forward, squeezing yourself between Pierre and Seth’s bodies to get a word in with the girls around the table. 

“Can I offer you all some free advice?” you asked, even though you were going to give it to them anyway. “This one,” you spoke, nodding to Pierre. You dropped your voice to a whisper and the girls inched forward to catch your words. “He’s been around the block, if you know what I mean. I’d make sure he wraps it before he taps it. Who knows the last time he’s gotten tested?”

You slipped out from between the boys, ignoring the curses that fell from Pierre’s lips as you walked away.

---

You left Charlie’s at 7 the next morning. Although you tried not to make a habit of sleeping at his apartment, there were some nights that you ignored the voice inside your head. You dressed yourself in the outfit from the night before and stepped into his bathroom to check your make-up and fix your hair before allowing the world to see you in all your one night stand glory.

Last night was one of the worst nights you’d spent with him. He was off from the moment you got in the door to the moment he fell asleep after finishing. You ended up completely unsatisfied and if you hadn’t been as tired as you were, you probably would’ve gone home to bring your own self to orgasm since he so clearly couldn’t.

As you shut his front door behind you, another door in the hall shut. You looked up to see which neighbor had entered the hallway and immediately felt your stomach drop.

“This? This is the place you ran off to last night?” Pierre was standing at the next door over. He looked astounded, eyes flickering between you and the door you’d just come out of. “You’re fucking my neighbor? Isn’t he like 40?”

“You live here?” you asked, eyes wide as you took in the sight of Pierre in front of you. His hair was still messy from sleep, but he was dressed in his Blue Jackets workout gear and on his way out the door.

“I moved in at the beginning of the season,” he answered. He stepped forward and you stepped backwards in response. “But you wouldn’t know that because you didn’t come to my housewarming party.”

You didn’t think he was serious when he extended the invite, and you were almost positive your response was along the lines of ‘I’d never step foot inside your house.’  

With a scoff, you turned and continued down the hall. He was hot on your heels the entire way to the elevator and slowed to a stop to wait beside you when you pressed the down button. You were surprised when he didn’t immediately start digging deeper about your night. He was more preoccupied with whatever was on his phone than you, thankfully, though you were certain once he had you in the enclosed space of the elevator he’d start prying.

When the doors of the elevator finally opened, Pierre stepped in and held his hand out to keep the doors open for you. You stayed put.

“I’ll wait for the next one,” you said stubbornly, crossing your arms over your chest. He let out a dry laugh, eyes rolling before grabbing your arm and pulling you into the confined space with him.

The doors shut.

“You’re fucking dramatic.”

The elevator began its descent to the lobby and, all the while, you could feel him watching you.

“Can you stop?” you spat, shooting him a glare from the other corner of the elevator.

He studied you for a moment before asking, “Quiet in bed?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you quiet in bed?” he asked, slower this time, like you were too stupid to understand what he said before. You couldn’t find the words to answer, jaw ajar as your brain tried to catch up to his question. “I’m only asking because I’m pretty sure Charlie and I share a bedroom wall, and his place was completely silent last night.”

“You’re a pig.”

Pierre chuckled, satisfied with the reaction he’d gotten out of you, and continued talking, “Unless he can’t get you off.”

“Familiar with that problem, huh?”

“Not in the slightest,” he answered.

“As far as you know,” you muttered under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear. The last place in the world you wanted to be was with Pierre in this elevator and you wanted him to know that.

“Not that you will ever get the chance to experience it yourself, but I know my way around the bedroom,” Pierre countered easily. Too easily. 

“Mmm,” you hummed, “I’m sure, what, with your body count in the hundreds probably. Statistically, you would have to have gotten at least 50% off.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know how many girls I have in my bed every week,” Pierre grinned, his ego oozing out of his every word.

“Not even a little bit,” you sighed. Your fingers came up to your temple as you tried to rub away the migraine that was beginning to take form. “Where you put your dick is of no concern to me, unless you decide to put it in a blender. Then, and only then, will I give a shit.”

“See, I think you care an awful lot more than you let on, princess,” Pierre said. Your face twisted in disgust at the pet name. “And I think that no matter how much you want to hate me, you really don’t. You’re just jealous that I’m not fucking you.”

That pushed you over the edge, the ounce of patience that you had left in your system had been blown to pieces with that comment. 

“Would you pull your head out of your ass for once in your life, Pierre?” you spat. “I wouldn’t let you touch me with a ten foot pole, much less your filthy dick. My sex life is none of your god damn business. Actually, scratch that, my life is none of your business. I only put up with you because we run in the same group of friends, so don’t try and get cute with me. If I had things my way I would never have even met you, much less learned your name.”

Pierre opened his mouth to speak, likely to try and counter everything you had just said with a dig, but you held your hand up to silence him. 

“We don’t have to like each other, Pierre, but you don’t have to be such a raging asshole about it. I thought at some point you might get tired of being a complete dick but your endurance is impressive, I’ll give you that. So listen to me carefully when I tell you I want nothing to do with you.”

The elevator stopped at the lobby and you made a beeline to the front door of the lobby to begin your walk home in silence. Beautiful, peaceful, Pierre-less silence.

---

The silence didn’t last long. 

You were halfway through your skin care routine when your phone rang, piercing through the otherwise quiet apartment. Across your home screen, your sister’s name flashed over a goofy photo from New Years.

“What do you want?” you asked after swiping to accept. Your sister’s face filled the screen with a fake offended look on it. You giggled. “Listen, Sadie, the only time I’ve heard from you since you moved back to school has been because you needed me to do something for you.”

“Okay, well,” she started. You raised your eyebrows at her in amusement. You knew this was coming. “It’s not really me who needs something.”

“Which one of your friends needs something then?”

“Mom,” she said with a laugh. Confusion flashed over your features, so she continued, “My friends are all going home next weekend and I decided I’d do the same because why would I want to be here without them, right?” You nodded as she rambled on. “But when I told Mom I wanted to come home, she told me that her and Dad are going to be out of town.”

“They’re going away?”

“Yeah, and she doesn’t want me home alone.”

You laughed out loud. It was so typical of your mom to not trust Sadie to be home alone for a few days. She turned 21 months ago and yet she still wasn’t trusted by your parents. You couldn’t say you blamed them. Sadie wasn’t exactly the most responsible. 

“Stay at school then.”

“See, I was gonna do that,” she trailed off. “But she already bought me a plane ticket to see you.” Your jaw dropped, but you closed it at the sight of your sister’s apologetic face. “I’m really sorry, but on the brightside, I can finally party with you and all your boy toys! Especially the French one you hate so much,” she said his name in a French accent, “Pierre Luc Dubois, or whatever his sexy ass name is.”

And that was exactly what you were worried about.