#destroys me to have to tell him i can’t because he lives on the other side of the planet but like i WANT TO i would give ANYTHING to be able

[espresso1patronum]

Nine Lives, One Knight

(batman!gojo x catwoman!reader)

synopsis: By day, Gojo Satoru is Gotham’s golden boy—billionaire, genius, untouchable. By night, he’s the Bat, a relentless force in the city’s shadows. You? You’re Catwoman—master thief, chaos incarnate, always one step ahead. You’ve spent years dancing around each other, neither willing to truly win. But when a new faction, the Black Veil, sets its sights on Gotham’s most powerful players—including you and the Bat—you’re forced into an uneasy alliance. Tension crackles, lines blur, and the game you’ve always played turns deadly. Because this time, it’s not just about the city. This time, it’s about each other.

cw: batman au, mutual pining, slow burn, sort of enemies to lovers, angst, violence, blood, injury mention, gun violence, kinda gory? kinda forbidden love? Toji, geto, shoko and nanami cameo lmao

word count: 10.1k

author's note: this had been in my drafts for a very long time and after the poll results, I thought i'd finish this. it's not much, but I enjoyed writing this jjk x dc crossover.

Gotham was never silent.

Not even at midnight.

Not even when the rain came down in thick, suffocating sheets, drenching the city in shadows. Somewhere below, sirens wailed. Tires screeched. A single gunshot cracked through the air, distant but unmistakable.

To some, the noise was chaos. To you?

It was home.

You move across the rooftop with practiced ease, the weight of the Black Veil’s encrypted drive tucked safely into the pocket of your suit. The heist had been too easy. A little slip past the lasers, a quick crack of the safe, and just like that—you were out.

Something worth a small fortune in your hands. Or rather—something that could destroy half of Gotham’s elite if it ended up in the wrong hands.

(Or the right ones, depending on who you asked.)

A clean escape. A successful job. You should be gone by now.

And yet—

A shiver runs down your spine. Not from the cold. Not from the rain. From something else.

Something you can’t see, but feel.

You land soundlessly on another rooftop, pausing only for a second to scan the city below. Nothing. No movement. Just the familiar neon glow of Gotham’s underbelly.

Still—your fingers twitch. Instinct coils in your gut, whispering a warning you don’t want to acknowledge.

Too easy.

Too—

“Going somewhere, kitten?”

The voice comes from behind you, smooth as silk, dark as thunder.

You don’t startle. You don’t turn. Instead, you let a slow, knowing smirk curl at your lips before you finally glance back.

There he is.

Perched on the edge of the rooftop like he belongs in the night, the rain dripping off the edges of his cowl, his cape shifting slightly in the wind. Batman.

Or rather—Gojo Satoru.

You should’ve known he’d show up. Maybe you did. Maybe you ignored it.

"Bold of you," you murmur, fingers flexing, ready to bolt. "Sneaking up on a cat in the dark."

His head tilts, and though the mask hides half his face, you can hear the smirk in his voice.

"Please," he drawls. "You knew I was here before you even touched the ground."

He's right. You did. But you don’t let him win that easily.

"Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night, Bat?" You shift your weight, rolling your shoulders, keeping it casual. "Or do you just like following me around?"

He steps closer. Slow. Deliberate. The way a storm rolls in—inevitable.

"You stole something," he says.

You sigh, dramatically. "I steal a lot of things. You’ll have to be more specific."

"You know what I’m talking about."

He’s close enough now that you can see the flicker of blue beneath his mask. The kind of dangerous blue that makes your pulse stutter for half a second before you shut it down.

"Give it to me," he says, voice quieter this time.

You shake your head, clicking your tongue. "Oh, Bat. You always ask so nicely."

Before he can move, you bolt.

And that’s when the rooftop explodes.

A deafening boom shatters the night, the blast wave knocking you clean off your feet. You don’t have time to think, don’t have time to react—your body moves on instinct, twisting midair, boots scraping against the slick rooftop as you skid dangerously close to the edge.

Shit.

The explosion wasn’t meant for him. It was meant for you.

You barely have time to register the shift in the air before an arm wraps around your waist—strong, unyielding, and familiar—yanking you backward just as the ledge beneath your feet crumbles.

You don’t fall.

Because he doesn’t let you.

When the smoke clears, you’re half-sprawled against him, one of his arms still locked around your waist, his other hand braced against the rooftop. Your breaths come hard and fast, heart pounding against your ribs, adrenaline flooding your veins.

"Well," you huff, dazed but not broken. "Didn’t think you cared, Bat."

His grip tightens—just for a second. Just long enough for you to feel it.

"I don’t," he says flatly. But his jaw clenches. "Stay down."

You snort, pushing off of him as you roll onto your feet. "You and I both know that’s not happening."

He doesn’t argue. Because you’re right. Because whoever just tried to kill you isn’t done.

And they’re not alone.

From the rooftop across the alley, figures emerge from the shadows. Armed. Precise. Waiting.

Batman’s shoulders go rigid. His voice is low. Dangerous.

"They knew you’d be here."

You exhale sharply, adjusting your gloves. "Looks like we’re on the same side tonight, Bat."

The rain slicks the rooftop, turning it into a death trap. But you’ve fought in worse.

Across the alley, four figures move into position. Their weapons gleam under the glow of a distant streetlight—guns, knives, and something that looks an awful lot like a taser baton.

Cute.

Satoru tenses beside you, assessing. Calculating. His voice is low, barely audible over the rain. "Stay behind me."

You scoff, rolling your shoulders. "Not happening."

He doesn’t waste time arguing. Because you’re both outnumbered, because the enemy is moving—because there’s no time to fight each other when you’re about to fight them.

And then—they strike.

One gunshot. Two. You react on instinct, dropping low, twisting away, boots skidding against the rooftop. Batman’s cape flares as he moves—one sharp flick of his wrist, and a batarang slices through the dark, knocking a pistol clean from one of their hands.

Fast and efficient. Classic him.

You? You have your own way of doing things.

The second attacker lunges at you with a knife. You sidestep, grab their wrist, twist—the blade clatters to the ground. Before they can react, your elbow smashes into their ribs, sending them stumbling backward with a wheeze.

"Really?" you taunt, dodging another strike. "You came all this way just to embarrass yourselves?"

Batman doesn’t look at you, but you swear you can feel his exasperation.

"Focus."

You grin. "I am focused."

And then you flip over one of the attackers, landing smoothly behind them before slamming them headfirst into a ventilation unit.

Batman exhales sharply. "Could’ve just knocked them out."

"They’ll wake up." You dodge another strike. "Eventually."

More gunfire. Batman twists mid-air, cape flowing like liquid shadow as he dodges the bullets. In the same motion, he grabs your wrist—yanking you forward, pulling you out of the line of fire just as another shot rings out.

You’re so close you can hear his heartbeat.

For half a second, the world shrinks. The rain, the chaos, the rooftop beneath your feet, it all disappears.

It’s just you and him. Breathing the same air.

Then—"Move."

And just like that, the moment is gone.

You both explode into motion, flawless in sync. A kick to the ribs. A punch to the jaw. A perfect sweep of your leg sends another attacker sprawling.

It’s fast. Clean. Too easy.

When the last enemy collapses, groaning, you barely break a sweat.

You exhale, shaking out your arms. "Well," you say, breathless. "That was fun."

Satoru glares at you. "This wasn’t a game."

"Could’ve fooled me." You step over one of the unconscious bodies, crouching slightly to pat them down. No ID. No insignia. No obvious ties to the Black Veil.

But then— your fingers brush against something cold. Metal.

Your stomach drops.

A small device is clipped to one of their belts. Black, sleek, with a blinking red light.

Shit.

Your head snaps up. Satoru sees it the same moment you do, his voice is sharp. "Bomb." A soft beep. A single second.

And then— the rooftop blows apart beneath your feet.

Pain.

It drags you back to consciousness, slow and disorienting, like surfacing from deep water. Your body aches, the sharp sting of a fresh wound cutting through the dull throb of bruises.

The last thing you remember—the rooftop. The explosion.

And then—falling.

Your eyes snap open. You’re not on the street. You’re not dead.

Instead, you’re somewhere dimly lit, the soft hum of an old heater filling the silence. A safehouse.

Your head tilts slightly. The room is small—just a battered couch, an old desk, and a half-broken lamp casting flickering shadows against the walls.

And across from you— standing near the door, arms crossed, still in full suit— is Batman.

Gojo.

Watching you.

You shift, trying to sit up, but a sharp pull at your side stops you. That’s when you realize— your suit is torn and your stomach is bandaged, and you sure as hell didn’t do it yourself.

A slow smirk tugs at your lips. "Didn’t take you for the hands-on type, Bat."

His jaw ticks. "You were bleeding."

"Aww," you tease, voice still hoarse. "You do care."

He steps closer. The soft glow of the lamp catches the edge of his mask, illuminating the sharp cut of his jaw, the faint tension in his shoulders.

"You almost died." His voice is quiet now, lacking its usual smugness. Too honest.

You tilt your head, studying him. Something about the way he’s looking at you feels... different.

Like he hated seeing you like that. Like it unnerved him.

For a moment, neither of you speak. The air is thick, heavy, charged with something unspoken.

Then—he exhales, stepping back, breaking the moment.

"You need rest," he mutters.

You shift again, testing the pain, biting back a wince. "I need answers."

"You need to not die."

"You didn’t answer my question."

His hands tighten into fists at his sides. He doesn’t look at you, but his voice is sharp, precise. Avoiding something.

"The bomb was a trap. Someone wanted you dead."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, I figured that part out, Bat."

He ignores the sarcasm. "Who else knew you’d be at that vault?"

"Just me."

His gaze flickers to you, sharp and assessing. Like he doesn’t believe you.

You sigh, leaning back against the couch. "Look, I don’t have a name yet. Just whispers about a buyer wanting the drive. But if they’re willing to go that far to kill me for it—"

"—then you’re already in too deep."

There’s something grim in his tone that makes your stomach twist. You study him carefully. His cowl hides most of his face, but you’ve seen him fight, seen him move.

Gojo Satoru is always too confident. Too smug. Like he knows he’s the strongest, the fastest, the smartest in the room.

But right now? Right now, he looks... frustrated.

Not at you. He is frustrated for you and the realization is dangerous.

You push it down and swallow it whole. "Relax, Bat," you say, forcing a smirk. "I still got, what, six lives left?"

He doesn’t smile, doesn’t take the bait. But then your breath catches as he kneels infront of you but you don't move.

You should. You should say something—anything—but you don’t. Because his hands are on you again, pressing carefully against your bandaged side, checking his work.

He’s too close. His touch warm, solid, and careful.

And for the first time, he looks at you—not as an opponent. Not as a thief. But as something else entirely.

The silence stretches and you wish it hadn't because your heart is pounding in a way it isn't supposed to.

And then— he shifts.

You feel it before it happens. The slow lean forward. The weight of his stare. The way your own pulse betrays you, beating too fast, too hard, in the space between you.

Almost—

But then, the moment shatters.

The old radio in the corner crackles to life, static hissing before a voice cuts through. "Breaking news—an attack on Gotham’s financial district just moments ago—"

You blink as he pulls back and you just clear your throat, wanting to push all the wierd thoughts that were clouding your mind right now.

Satoru's expression hardens, as he stands, straightens his suit and steps away. "You stay here," he says, all business again.

You smirk, ignoring the sharp ache in your ribs. "Come on, Bat. You know that’s not happening."

He exhales, long-suffering. "You’re injured."

"And yet I still fight better than half your enemies."

He pauses and stares at you as though you'd said something wrong. Then, finally—a reluctant smirk. "Try to keep up, kitten."

Satoru hadn’t always been like this in the past when you met him. He was obnoxious, full of himself, always eager to show off his strength and speed in front of you. But today—this time—he felt different. For the first time, he seemed genuinely serious. And maybe, just maybe, there was a flicker of vulnerability in the way he spoke, in the way Gotham’s Batman spoke.

You told yourself it had nothing to do with you. But no matter how hard you tried to push the thought away, you couldn’t help but wonder—what if it did?

Sneaking into Gotham’s financial district isn’t hard. But sneaking in with Batman?

Now that’s a challenge.

You slip through the shadows like you were born for this—because you were. Satoru moves beside you, silent, precise, and still annoyingly smug. You glance at him. "Not bad, Bat."

He doesn’t look at you. "Not trying to impress you, kitten."

Liar.

The building looms ahead, dark and empty except for the guards patrolling the perimeter. "Twelve," you murmur, already counting. "Four on the roof, two at the entrance, six inside."

He hums. "I’ll take the roof. You take the inside."

You grin. "Awfully trusting, Bat."

"If you get caught, I’m not saving you."

You both know that’s a lie.

Getting in is easy. Getting to the main office where the stolen drive is hidden? Even easier. You’re already at the vault, fingers working over the lock, when— you hear footsteps.

Shit.

You whirl around, but it’s too late—one of the guards spots you. The alarm blares.

"Dammit," you hiss, already moving, flipping over the desk as more guards storm in. You could take them. You should take them. It's really easy for you actually.

But before you even get the chance— a blur of black crashes through the skylight. Batman lands hard, cape billowing, taking down two guards before his boots even hit the floor.

You blink. "Show-off."

"You’re welcome," he mutters, throwing a punch.

It’s a blur of fists, kicks, and electricity. You move too well together, too in sync. It’s not just skill—it’s instinct. Every time you dodge, he’s already covering your blind spot. Every time he moves, you’re already reading his next step.

It’s flawless. It’s deadly. It’s perfect but— a bit too much. At some point, you end up back-to-back. Panting, bruised and your adrenaline spiking.

His voice is low, breathless. "You good?"

You swallow hard because you shouldn’t be this affected. You shouldn't be affected by anything he says or he does because you don't care, right?

"Always."

And then— a hand grips your wrist. It was a guard you didn’t see. You twist your hand, ready to counter, but before you can, Batman moves first.

Fast. Too fast.

His hand grips the front of your suit—yanking you forward, spinning you behind him as he slams the attacker into the wall with enough force to shake the room.

With a loud thud, the guy drops instantly and you hear nothing but the silence that is lingering in the air. The only sound is your breath and his, his hand still gripping your suit, still holding you.

You look up at him and find him already watching you. He’s too close for your liking. Or is he?

His jaw is tight, his chest rising and falling in steady yet controlled breaths, and his grip on you remains firm. Your pulse slams against your ribs. There’s something in the air—something that shifts, pulling both of you in. You feel it. And so does he.

You hate this. Or at least, you tell yourself you do. But the truth is, you can’t stop it. It’s happening, inevitable and inescapable. This isn’t just a fight anymore. This is something else entirely. And this time, no one interrupts. No radio crackling to life, no explosions in the distance, no convenient excuse to look away.

It’s just you. Him. And a choice.

Before you can even pull yourself back, before your mind can fully grasp the situation, Satoru makes the decision for you. He yanks you forward, his lips crashing onto yours, his mask half-pulled up—just like yours. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you in closer.

And despite everything, despite all the reasons you shouldn’t—you kiss him back.

Your back slams against cold metal, the impact sending a shiver down your spine—not that you can focus on it. Not when he’s leaning in, fingers curling into your suit, pulling, pressing, taking.

You don’t even realize you’re kissing him back until it’s too late. Until your hands are in his hair, gripping, tugging, dragging him closer. Until his weight is the only thing keeping you upright.

The vault. The alarms. The entire damn mission—forgotten. Because all you can think about is—

This is dangerous. This is a mistake. This is—

“Fuck,” you breathe against his lips.

And then— he pulls back, barely.

His breath is ragged, his gloved hand still firm on your jaw, his eyes burning with something wild, like he can’t believe he just did that or like he can’t believe he wants to do it again.

The silence between you crackles like a live wire.

Then he swallows. “We can’t—”

You shove him off. Hard.

Your body still hums from his touch, your lips still tingling, your pulse betraying you. But you don’t let any of it show. Instead, you smirk, sharp as a blade.

“Didn’t know the Bat had such bad impulse control.”

His expression doesn’t change, but you see it—the exact moment he chooses denial. The way his walls snap back into place like steel reinforcements.

His mask comes down. His voice turns cold. “Let’s move.”

And just like that, it’s over.

Except it isn’t.

Because now, the line between you is blurred beyond recognition. Because now, you know what he tastes like. Because now, everything has changed.

And there’s no undoing it.

Gotham’s elite love to party.

It’s how they distract themselves from the fact that their city is rotting beneath them.

Big money, expensive champagne, and a ballroom filled with people who don’t care about anything but themselves.

It’s your kind of scene.

A place where no one notices a missing diamond necklace. Where a stolen keycard goes unreported. Where masks are more than just accessories.

And yet— tonight, you’re not here to steal. Tonight, you're here for him.

It had been a few days since that night—since everything that happened between you and Satoru. Or Batman.

Now, another party was being thrown by Gotham’s elite, and of course, Batman had been invited. And, of course, you had to see him again.

It felt awkward.

Because no matter how much you wanted to ignore it, that kiss had meant something. To both of you. And you didn’t want it to.

You wanted to talk to him like nothing had happened. Like nothing ever would happen again. Right?

You wanted to tell him it was just the adrenaline, just the chaos of that night, nothing more. That’s all it was. That’s all it could ever be.

Gojo Satoru feels you before he sees you.

A shift in the air. A prickle at the back of his neck.

And then— you walk in, dressed to kill.

Silk. Black. Dangerous. A slit running high up your thigh, the soft glint of diamonds resting against your collarbone.

And when your gaze meets his across the ballroom— his throat goes dry.

Because he hasn’t seen you since the kiss. Because you’re smiling like it never happened. Because the second you do— you turn away, and walk straight into another man’s arms.

You feel his stare before you even see him. It lingers on your skin, heavy and unrelenting, like a touch without contact. But you don’t look. Not yet.

Instead, you let the man beside you—some rich idiot with more money than sense—pull you closer, his hand brushing over your waist, his breath warm as he leans in.

"You look exquisite tonight," he murmurs, voice smooth, practiced.

You hum, barely interested. "I know." And still, you feel him.

Watching. Brooding. Jealous. Exactly as you wanted.

So when you finally turn—when your gaze finally locks onto his across the crowded ballroom—you make sure to smirk.

And just like that, he’s gone.

But you know better. He didn’t leave. Not really.

So when you step outside onto the balcony, the cool Gotham night air brushing against your skin, you’re not surprised to find him already there. He stands by the railing, his posture deceptively relaxed, fingers curled around a glass of untouched champagne.

His mask is gone, but his walls? Higher than ever.

You exhale slowly as you step closer, watching him carefully. "Didn’t take you for the jealous type, Bat."

He doesn’t look at you when he answers. "I’m not."

You tilt your head, amusement flickering in your eyes. "Could’ve fooled me."

Silence settles between you, thick with unspoken words and something else, something heavier. The tension coils between you like a wire pulled too tight, waiting to snap.

And then, you break it.

"You’ve been avoiding me," you say, your voice quieter now.

His jaw tightens, but his expression doesn’t shift. "You’ve been avoiding me."

"Maybe," you admit. A small smirk tugs at your lips as you step even closer. "Or maybe I was just waiting for you to make the first move."

He scoffs, shaking his head. "That’s not how this works, kitten."

"Then how does it work?" Your voice is softer now, your gaze steady. "Because last I checked, you kissed me."

His breath hitches, barely audible.

For a moment, he doesn’t move.

And then— you’re against the railing, his hand is on your waist, his grip firm, fingers pressing against the silk of your dress as if anchoring himself in place. His breath is warm against your skin, his voice low and edged with something dangerous.

"It was a mistake," he murmurs, though there’s no conviction behind the words.

You smirk, tilting your head slightly. "Then why are you still thinking about it?"

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. Because you already know.

And when his grip tightens on your waist, when his breath ghosts over your lips, you can see it—the exact moment he realizes he’s already lost.

You could kiss him right now. It would be easy. He’s already too close. His body is practically caging you in, his presence overwhelming. His fingers press into your waist like he doesn’t want to let go, like he’s memorizing the feeling of you beneath his touch. His breath is warm against your lips, his eyes dark and unreadable.

And you know he wants it. Because he hasn’t moved away. Because his grip keeps tightening, like he’s fighting himself but losing the battle.

Because when you whisper, "What are you so afraid of, Bat?" his lips part—like he’s about to answer.

Like he’s about to give in. Like this is finally it.

And then— "We’ve got a problem." The comm in his ear crackles to life, shattering the moment.

Just like that, his entire body stiffens. The warmth disappears, replaced by something cold, something distant. You watch it happen—the exact second he shuts down. The moment he remembers who he is. Who you are. What this is.

His hand falls away. His walls slam back up.

When he speaks again, his voice is devoid of whatever had been lingering between you just seconds ago. "I have to go."

You don’t let it show—the disappointment, the frustration curling inside your chest, the ache you don’t want to name. Instead, you force a smirk, tilting your head slightly.

"Duty calls, huh?"

His expression remains unreadable. "Always."

And with that— he’s gone.

But there's always a problem. You should've known this was a setup. You should have left the party the second he walked away.

You should have ignored the champagne, the meaningless conversations, and the empty laughter echoing through the ballroom. You should have disappeared into the night before anyone had the chance to notice.

But you didn’t. And now, you are paying for it.

The moment you step out the back entrance and into the dimly lit alleyway, something slams into you with brutal force. The impact knocks the air from your lungs, sending you stumbling. Before you can react, a sharp sting pierces the side of your neck.

Your vision blurs instantly as your body feels heavy and unsteady. The world tilts beneath you as you struggle to stay upright, but your limbs refuse to cooperate.

Through the haze, a voice reaches your ears, low and amused. "Nighty night, kitty."

Darkness swallows you whole.

"Say that again."

His voice is quiet. Too quiet.

Shoko hesitates over the comms. "She’s missing. No one’s seen her since the party. Word on the street is—"

She doesn’t get the chance to finish. He is already moving. His mind is no longer in the conversation. His focus sharpens, narrowing in on a single, undeniable truth.

Someone took you. And that changes everything.

This isn’t part of the game you and he have played for years. This isn’t the usual chase through Gotham’s streets, the endless dance of pursuit and escape. This isn’t teasing smirks and near-missed captures.

This is something else, something darker.

Someone dared to take you, and that is a very, very big problem.

Because you are his to chase. Because no one else gets to touch you. Because if they have hurt you— he will burn this entire fucking city to the ground.

Pain is the first thing you register. The feeling's not new at all though.

A dull, throbbing ache pulses behind your eyes, heavy and unrelenting. A sharp sting burns at your wrists where the rope digs into your skin. Cold metal presses against your ankles, the bite of steel cuffs locking you in place.

You inhale slowly, steadying yourself as the haze begins to clear. You’re tied to a chair.

The air is thick with the scent of damp concrete, musty and stale, like an old basement that hasn't seen fresh air in years. A single lightbulb flickers overhead, its dim glow casting long, shifting shadows against the cracked walls.

You take a slow breath and assess your surroundings.

You’re underground. Maybe an abandoned warehouse. Maybe a storage facility. Wherever you are, it's hidden, tucked away from prying eyes.

And whoever took you here—they know what they’re doing.

You flex your fingers, testing the restraints, but before you can shift too much, a voice cuts through the silence.

"Ah, you’re awake."

The words are smooth, laced with amusement, as if this entire situation is nothing more than an entertaining inconvenience to him.

Your eyes snap toward the source of the voice, adjusting to the dim light, and when you finally see him, irritation flares in your chest.

Fushiguro Toji.

You let out a slow breath, biting back a groan. "You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me."

Toji smirks, leaning back in his chair like he has all the time in the world. "Surprised, kitty?"

"Annoyed," you correct, rolling your shoulders against the ropes. "Didn’t think I was worth your time."

He chuckles, dark amusement dancing in his green eyes. "Oh, you weren’t. But then I heard about your little… situation with Gotham’s Bat."

The words are casual, but your stomach twists.

You don’t react. You don’t tense. You don’t let the flicker of unease show on your face. Instead, you arch a brow and smirk. "Didn’t know he had fans."

"I wouldn’t call myself a fan," Toji muses, tilting his head. "But I do love a good weakness. And you, sweetheart?" He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You’re his."

Your heart skips just for a second.

But you keep your expression neutral because he’s wrong.

Right?

Right.

Right.

…Right?

Gojo finds the first guy in ten minutes.

The second in five.

By the time he gets to the third, his knuckles are already bloodied, bruises forming across his fingers from the force of his hits.

The man stumbles back, pressing himself against the brick wall, his breath coming out in short, panicked gasps. "I-I don’t know where they took her, I swear—"

Gojo’s expression is unreadable beneath his blindfold, but his voice is ice. "Where."

It isn’t a question. It’s a demand.

The man chokes, scrambling for words. "P-please, man, I just heard they took her underground—"

That’s all Gojo needs.

His fingers loosen, and the man collapses to the ground, coughing and gasping for air. But Gojo doesn’t wait. He’s already gone. Because he’s close. Because they took you from him. Because they think they can keep you.

And they’re about to learn just how wrong they are.

You won’t let him see you sweat.

Not when the ropes burn against your wrists, cutting into your skin with every twitch of your fingers. Not when your head pounds from whatever the hell they drugged you with, the fog in your brain refusing to lift. Not even when Fushiguro Toji leans in, eyes dark with amusement, the sharp glint of his knife catching the dim, flickering light.

He’s enjoying this.

Enjoying the way your muscles tense when the blade spins between his fingers. Enjoying the way your gaze flickers toward the door, toward the single exposed bulb swaying overhead.

Enjoying the way you’re waiting for something.

Or rather, someone.

"What’s wrong, kitty?" he murmurs, the cold edge of steel pressing against your cheek. "Thought your Bat would’ve come for you by now?"

Your lips curl into a smirk, masking the way your stomach coils with unease. "What, jealous?"

Toji chuckles, low and amused, before his fingers curl beneath your chin, tilting your face up. His grip is firm—not cruel, but controlling. A predator playing with his food.

"Nah," he muses. "Just curious how long it’s gonna take him to break."

Your stomach tightens because if there’s one thing you know about Gojo Satoru, it’s this— he doesn’t break.

He shatters. And when he does— he takes everything down with him.

Gojo hears your heartbeat before he sees you. He has some sirt of a bat instinct, you see.

Faint. Steady. Alive.

That’s the only thing keeping him from ripping this place apart.

But the moment he steps inside—the moment his eyes land on you, tied to that fucking chair, with Toji crouched in front of you like a wolf toying with its prey—something inside him snaps.

"Step away from her." His voice is quiet and deadly. The kind of voice that promises violence.

Toji doesn’t even turn around. Instead, he grins, spinning his knife between his fingers. "Took you long enough, Bat."

Gojo doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch, doesn’t blink. "This is your only warning."

Toji finally turns, his sharp green eyes glinting with something dangerous. "Or what?"

Gojo tilts his head, slow and deliberate.

Then—he smiles. "Or I’ll show you why Gotham is afraid of the dark."

You’ve seen him fight before. You’ve seen the way he moves—quick, calculated, precise.

But this? This is different. This isn’t the controlled Bat, this isn’t the patient hunter.

This is Gojo Satoru with nothing left to hold back. And it’s terrifying. Because he’s not just fighting Toji.

He’s dismantling him.

A fist meets flesh with a sickening, brutal crack. Toji throws a punch—Gojo catches his wrist mid-air, twisting hard enough that the snap of bone echoes through the empty warehouse.

Toji grits his teeth, lunges—Gojo moves faster, dodging with ease before slamming him into the concrete so hard the ground cracks beneath them. There’s no banter. No smirk. No teasing.

There’s just rage.

And the worst part? Gojo is enjoying it. Because this isn’t just about you anymore. This is everything.

This is Gotham. The corruption. The powerlessness.

This is every ounce of anger he’s swallowed down for years, unleashed on the one bastard stupid enough to give him an excuse and if you don’t stop him now— he won’t stop at all.

"Satoru." Your voice barely reaches him over the pounding in his ears.

But the second you say his name—his real name— he freezes.

Fist still curled in Toji’s bloodied collar. Breath coming in slow, heavy exhales. Shoulders rising and falling with barely contained fury.

And then, slowly—he turns. His eyes meet yours, and for the briefest moment, they flicker—from Gotham’s Bat to the man underneath. That’s all you need.

"Let him go."

Gojo stares at you, unmoving, his grip tightening for a fraction of a second.

Then, with a sharp breath—he lets Toji’s unconscious body drop to the ground. The tension in his frame lingers, coiled tight, but his steps are steady as he moves toward you. The anger is still there. The darkness. The weight of everything he just did.

But his hands are gentle when they find the ropes binding your wrists.

"Let’s get you out of here."

The silence is suffocating.

You should be grateful though. The moment he cut you loose, he got you out—carried you through Gotham’s backstreets, made sure you weren’t followed. Now, you’re in a hidden safehouse—one of his, no doubt—sitting on an old couch, trying to ignore the dull ache in your wrists.

And him? He’s in the bathroom. Avoiding you.

You hear the water running, the steady drip of blood swirling down the sink. You should leave, you should run. But you don’t. Because you’re not done with him yet.

But for him it keeps replaying in his head. The way you said it.

'"Satoru."'

Not Batman. Not Bats. Not some teasing, smug nickname meant to piss him off. Just his name.

Like you knew exactly what it meant to use it. Like you knew it would break him.

His knuckles sting as he washes off the blood. He should have killed Toji. He should have— no.

No, he shouldn’t have let you get this close. He grips the edge of the sink, eyes burning into his reflection. He can’t want this. He can’t want you.

But then—a creak of the floorboard, a shift in the air. He doesn’t need to turn around to know you’re standing in the doorway. And when you speak— he already knows he’s fucked.

"Let me see your hands."

He doesn’t move, neither does he look at you. But he also doesn’t stop you when you step forward and reach for his hand. The bruises are already blooming, dark and angry across his knuckles.

You should say something sharp—something to piss him off, make him smirk, drag him back into whatever stupid game you’ve been playing for years. But for once, you don’t want to play.

"You could’ve killed him," your voice is quiet.

A muscle in his jaw twitches. "I should have."

"That’s not who you are," you say as you caress the back of his hand.

That makes him snap.

His head jerks up, eyes flashing. "You don’t know who I am."

But you don’t let go.

You squeeze his hand—challenging. "Then tell me."

He doesn't say anything for a while and you feel frustrated.

And then, softer—barely a breath. "You don’t want to know."

The silence between you stretches, thick and heavy, coiling around your throat like a noose.

His hand is still in yours, bruised and warm, fingers twitching like he’s fighting the urge to pull away.

Or worse—hold on tighter.

You don’t let go. Neither does he. And for a moment, just a moment, you let yourself believe that maybe— maybe this isn’t something you have to fight. Maybe this doesn’t have to be another battle, another game of pushing and pulling until one of you finally lets go.

Maybe— but then his grip tightens, and his voice, when he finally speaks, is hoarse. "You should leave."

The words hit harder than any punch.

Your breath catches, but you don’t let it show. You force yourself to smile, to tilt your head like this is nothing, like you aren’t standing on the edge of something that could shatter you completely.

"So that’s it?" you murmur, fingers tracing absent patterns along his wrist, feeling the steady pulse beneath your touch. "I almost die, you almost lose your mind, and now you’re just gonna pretend none of it happened?"

His jaw clenches, eyes flashing, but he doesn’t pull away. "It can’t happen."

You scoff. "Can’t, or won’t?"

He exhales sharply, the muscle in his jaw twitching again. "Don’t do that."

"Do what?"

"Make this something it isn’t."

Anger flickers hot in your chest, and this time, it’s you who tightens your grip. "And what exactly is this, Satoru?"

He doesn’t answer and that’s the worst part. Because you can take a fight. You can take sharp words and heated arguments, can take anger and fire and frustration.

But this? This silence? This refusal to even acknowledge what’s between you? This is what fucking hurts.

You shake your head, laughing bitterly as you finally drop his hand. "You know, for someone who always acts like he’s got all the answers, you really are a fucking coward."

Then you turn. And this time, you walk away first.

He lets you walk away, though he shouldn’t.

He knows he shouldn’t. But he does.

Because if he stops you—if he says anything else, if he gives in even an inch— he won’t be able to stop himself at all.

He won’t be able to stop himself from pulling you back, from letting himself want this, want you, from letting himself believe that there could ever be a world where this doesn't end in disaster.

So he lets you go. He stays in that goddamn bathroom, gripping the counter so hard his knuckles turn white, staring at his own reflection like it’ll give him an answer he doesn’t already fucking know.

Because he knows.

He knows that no matter how many times he tells himself to stay away, no matter how many times he buries it— it’s still there.

It’s been there for years. And now? Now it’s unraveling, slipping through his fingers like smoke, impossible to ignore, impossible to deny. Because the moment you walked away? He felt it.

The weight in his chest, the tightening in his throat, the overwhelming urge to chase after you, to take it back, to do something—

And fuck.

Fuck.

He slams his fist into the mirror before he can stop himself, glass shattering beneath his skin, pain blooming sharp and hot across his knuckles. He doesn’t even feel it. Because all he can think about—all he can fucking think about— is you. And that’s when he knows. This is it. This is the breaking point.

Because the second something happens—the second something puts you in danger again, the second someone so much as looks at you the wrong way— he won’t be able to stop himself.

And this time? He won’t fucking try.

You shouldn’t care. You tell yourself you don’t.

You tell yourself it’s better this way.

You tell yourself you should be used to it by now—used to the push and pull, used to the way he always leaves first, used to the way you always let him.

But this time? This time, it feels different.

This time, it feels like something inside you has been cracked open, exposed, left bleeding in the space between you. This time, you were the one who walked away—and it still fucking hurts.

Because the truth is— you wanted him to stop you. You wanted him to prove you wrong. But he didn’t.

And that? That fucking stings.

You exhale, pressing your fingers to your temples, eyes fluttering shut as you try to push it down, try to shove it deep, deep, deep beneath the surface where it can’t touch you anymore.

But the second you open your eyes, the second you see your reflection in the grimy window of your apartment—

You know. You know this isn’t over, because no matter how hard you try to run from it— it always brings you back to him.

You were lost in your thoughts, more like consumed by them that you forgot. You're Catwoman. You're in the freaking city of Gotham. You should've known. It happens fast. Too fast.

One second, you’re walking down the empty streets of Gotham, the cool night air biting at your skin, the weight of earlier still sitting heavy in your chest—

And the next? You’re surrounded.

Shadows slip out from the alleys, footsteps closing in, voices murmuring in low, amused tones. "Look what we have here…"

"Thought you were untouchable, sweetheart?"

Shit.

You recognize them instantly—Falcone’s men. Which means this isn’t a random attack. This is a message, a warning. A consequence for getting too close to Gotham’s Bat.

You bite back a curse, hands twitching at your sides, muscles tensing as you count the men, assess the distance, calculate your odds.

Four—maybe five. Armed? Most likely. A fight you could win? …Not without consequences.

But what other choice do you have? Because you already know— no one is coming to save you. Not this time.

Satoru feels it before he hears it.

It’s instinct.

A sharp, sudden shift in his chest, a gut-wrenching pull like something inside him is being ripped apart. Then— the comm buzzes.

"We got a situation." Nanami’s voice is clipped, urgent. "Falcone’s men. Five of them. Near Harbor Street."

And before he can even think—before he can stop himself—he’s already moving. Because he knows.

He fucking knows.

You don’t go down easy. They think they’ve already won. They think this will be easy.

They think you’re just a pretty little thief, just a girl who got in too deep, just another lesson to be taught. And that’s their first mistake. Because you don’t go down easy.

You move before they do—a sharp kick, a twist, a knife pulled from your belt and pressed to the throat of the closest man before he can even blink.

"Try it," you hiss, voice laced with venom.

He hesitates, and in that second, you know—you have an opening.

But then— a gun cocks.

And a voice—low, amused, familiar—cuts through the night like a blade. "Tsk. Always making things difficult, aren’t you, kitten?"

Your blood runs cold because you know that voice.

Suguru Geto.

And that? That changes everything.

You’ve honestly been in worse situations. But not many.

Not ones that make your stomach twist quite like this, not ones that make your pulse hammer against your ribs in something too sharp, too visceral, too close to fear. Because this isn’t just anyone. This isn’t some low-level thug. This isn’t even some mob boss looking to put you in your place. This is Suguru Geto.

And he doesn’t waste his time on small threats. No, when he moves, when he speaks, when he smiles—it means something.

"You’ve been causing quite the stir lately," he muses, stepping closer, his hands tucked casually in his coat pockets. "Getting on the Bat’s good side, stepping on all the wrong toes—really, kitten, I expected better from you."

You force your grip to stay steady, the knife still pressed against the throat of the man you caught off guard.

"Flattered, really," you say, keeping your voice light, like your pulse isn’t hammering, like your fingers aren’t itching to grab your grapple and run. "Didn’t think I’d be important enough to warrant a visit from the great Suguru Geto himself."

He chuckles—low, smooth, condescending. "Oh, you’re important," he says. "Just not in the way you think."

Your jaw tightens. "Yeah? Then why are you here?"

He tilts his head, watching you like you’re a puzzle he’s already figured out. "Because," he hums, "you have something that belongs to me."

The USB.

Shit.

Your grip on the knife falters for half a second—half a second too long. Because before you can react, before you can process, before you can even think— The man you were holding twists, shoving you off, the cold barrel of a gun pressing against your ribs before you can recover.

And just like that— you’re out of options.

Satoru's close.

Close enough that he can hear the words, close enough that he can hear your fucking pulse spike.

And that? That’s what does it. Because it’s one thing to be reckless. It’s one thing to be stubborn, to push him away, to insist that you don’t need him, that you can handle yourself.

But this? This is different because Geto doesn’t make idle threats.

And the second Gojo hears the sharp intake of your breath, the second he hears the shift of movement, the second he realizes exactly what’s happening— he moves. Fast. Too fast for them to react.

Because one second, Geto is smirking, enjoying his little game— and the next? He’s eating pavement.

Satoru doesn't hold back. He could, he should. But he doesn’t.

Because the second he sees that gun against your ribs, the second he sees the way your shoulders tense, the way your eyes flicker with something you never let anyone see— it’s over.

The first punch sends Geto flying. The second cracks something, leaves him coughing up blood.

The third? That one’s personal.

Because Gojo has been patient. He’s let things slide, let lines blur, let the underworld think he’s just another player in the game. But this? This is different. This is you. And that? That changes everything.

You've seen his fight countless times, but not like this. Not like he’s tearing through them without a second thought, not like he’s this close to losing control, not like the only thing keeping him from going too far is the fact that you’re standing right there.

It should scare you.

It should make you rethink everything, should remind you why you’ve always kept your distance, why you’ve always told yourself you couldn’t afford to get caught up in whatever the hell is between you. But it doesn’t. Because all you can think, as you watch him break Geto’s men like they’re nothing— is that he came. That you didn’t even call for him, and he still fucking came.

And when it’s over, when the dust settles and Geto is left bloody and laughing on the pavement, when Gojo finally turns to you, breath ragged, knuckles split, eyes burning— you don’t run. You don’t even flinch.

Because you know what this means. What it’s always meant. And maybe—maybe this time, neither of you will walk away first.

You really think you should stop this. You should. You should shove him away, should tell him this doesn’t change anything, should remind yourself why this is a bad idea, why this has always been a bad idea.

But when his fingers curl around your wrist, when he tugs you closer, when his breath ghosts over your lips— you don’t move. You don’t speak. You don’t even breathe. Because this isn’t like before.

This isn’t a game, isn’t a moment either of you will walk away from, isn’t something that can be brushed aside when the night is over. This is the point of no return.

And when he finally, finally closes the distance— you let him.

Because maybe—just maybe—you were never meant to run from him in the first place. It was always going to be you, always.

From the moment you first slipped past his defenses, from the moment you first met his gaze across the rooftops of Gotham, from the moment you first left him standing there with nothing but your name on his tongue and your laughter ringing in his ears— it was always going to be you.

And now? Now, with you in his arms, with your fingers tangled in his hair, with your taste on his lips, he knows there’s no going back. He doesn’t want to.

Because if Gotham is his curse, if the mask is his burden, if the weight of this city is something he’ll never escape— then you? You're the only thing that’s ever made it worth it. And for once, just once—he’s taking what he wants.

You find yourself on the rooftop with him, where it all began.

The city glows beneath you. The skyline stretches out, endless and alive, neon lights flickering, sirens wailing in the distance, the hum of Gotham’s heartbeat steady and unyielding.

It’s always been like this. Always moving. Always demanding. Always taking. And you? You’ve always been running.

But tonight? Tonight, you stand still. Because Gojo is in front of you, mask off, white hair ruffled by the wind, the cut on his lip still fresh from the fight, his eyes— those damn blue eyes—locked onto yours like he’s trying to memorize you, like he already knows what’s coming.

"So this is it, huh?" he says, voice low, rough.

You swallow hard, forcing a smirk. "Come on, Bat. You knew it wouldn’t last."

His jaw clenches. "Doesn’t mean I have to like it."

You step closer, tilting your head. "You’ll live."

He exhales sharply, like he’s about to say something—something real, something that might make you stay— but you can’t let him.

So you reach up, fingers barely brushing his jaw, a ghost of a touch, a silent goodbye.

"Goodbye, Batman," you whisper, voice softer than you mean it to be. "Gotham needs you."

For a second, just a second—you think that’s it. That he’ll let you go. That he’ll watch you disappear into the night like you always do.

But then— his hand catches yours. Tightly. Desperately. And when he speaks, when his voice finally breaks— it nearly stops you in your tracks.

"Why don’t you stay, Cat?" he murmurs, raw, unguarded, everything. "I need you."

Your breath catches as your heart lurches. Because that—that’s the one thing you weren’t ready for. But you force a smirk, even as your chest aches.

"That’s your problem, Bat." You squeeze his hand once, just once—before slipping free. "You’re not supposed to." You pause and for once give him a big genuine smile. "See ya later batman."

And with that— you step back and you turn, as you disappear into the night, like you always do.

Because Gotham needs him. And maybe he was never meant to need you.

@do-morochaa @madamechrissy @katthekat1234 (hope y'all like it😭💗)

[ntaras]

we could talk about how hanzo’s rage is a metaphor for his grief and trauma and his title of scorpion represents his difficulty to let go of his anger how he can never stop mourning his past because he refuses to stop mourning and how kuai liang’s taking of the mantle is representative of the ability to move forward rather than be stuck in constant mourning of the brother he lost. we could also talk about how hanzo’s protection over kuai liang was out of guilt of how hanzo could not stop himself from allowing emotion to control him and killing bi-han, and his ability to allow kuai liang to live instead of exacting more blindness vengeance allowed kuai liang to prosper and grow and end the years of rivalry between their clans.

[sundayinthcpark]

actually thought what do you do when you can’t tell if someone is flirting or not. especially when it’s your friend. and you don’t rlly know if you want them to be flirting or not because you’re not rlly sure what the fuck you want out of life forget out of them.

[asgardiansofthegalaxyvol3]

Logan moving in with Wade and gaining weight because not only is he eating three square meals a day, but he also picked up baking because both Al and Wade have a sweet tooth, and of course the sweets are there, he’s going to eat them too. But now he’s getting kind of chubby. Which isn’t a problem really. He looks healthier than he has in decades. Except…

Wade stopped flirting with him. Straight up just stopped. And yeah Logan’s been ignoring it right along because he knows Wade isn’t actually serious about it, but it was still kind of nice to be wanted. Especially since he came from a reality where he was literally the most hated man alive. And of course now he has actual feelings for Wade, he wants the option to be there.

So he decides to not only start going to the gym but also to stop eating. And of course Wade notices and has to sit him down and ask what’s up, he’s been super healthy lately why is he changing that

And Logan can’t admit why he’s doing it so he deflects. “So going to the gym isn’t healthy?”

“You practically live there now. You’re a certified gym rat. You’re overworked and underfed. THAT isn’t healthy.”

And they go back and forth until Logan finally admits it’s because he gained weight and doesn’t feel attractive anymore. “Hell, you don’t even flirt with me anymore and I’ve seen you hit on inanimate objects before.”

And Wade stares at him for like 10 full seconds before he busts out laughing, like genuinely knee slapping chuckle fest because, “You think I stopped flirting with you because I’m shallow??? You honestly think I look like a burn victims even uglier ball sack and I’m being picky with how someone else looks?”

Logan tries to shrug it off with a “Everyone has preferences.”

“Trust me, Peanut, it isn’t that.”

“So then what is it?”

And now it’s Wade’s turn to be defensive until he realizes their conversation is just going in circles and Logan won’t stop destroying his body until he comes clean. So he has to stare at the wall as he tells Logan that it isn’t that he’s not attracted to Logan’s body anymore, it’s that he’s hyper attracted to it now, that he looks so healthy, so well fed, so inadvertently loved, and that it’s a reminder of all the domesticity of their situation that he’s actually fallen in love and can’t trust himself to casually flirt with Logan anymore because he’s genuinely afraid he’s going to do something and ruin their friendship now.

And they make out sloppy style and confess their love to each other of course

[webanglikethat]

Inho and Gihun have consumed my brain: a rant.

their dynamic is absolutely insane, like watching two halves of a broken mirror slowly shift toward each other, each reflecting something so raw, so !! unbearably !!! human !!!

they are opposites in the most obvious way: one, a cold-blooded killer who thrives on power, privilege, and pain (though they both come from a similar background); the other, a man haunted by his own humanity, stubbornly holding on to the last shred of his moral compass, believing in a better life, a greater future.

but it’s the tension between them that burns — the way they orbit each other, drawn together by something darker than either of them is willing to admit. and it drives me insane, insane I tell you.

Inho studies Gihun like a predator; he is disguised as an ally, draped in the mask of sympathy and empathy, but every moment spent with him … it’s like watching a snake move through tall grass, its every flicker of movement calculated, controlled and designed to ensnare, trap, conquer, destroy. he watches his every more, everything he does and he doesn’t do. it’s a real time dissection !! he watches Gihun's cracks, his weaknesses, his flickers of anger and despair. every subtle movement doesn’t escape him.

he needs to see that part of him, the part that’s been broken, the part that still hurts. and in a way, he’s intoxicated by it. it’s like he wants to drink from those wounds, to feel the sharp, stinging taste of anguish on his tongue, to experience that pulse of pain, just so he can savor it, dissect it, and make it his own.

he watches Gihun not because he’s merely intrigued, but because in his suffering, in his brokenness, there is beauty. a beauty that can only be savored when torn apart, shredded, dissected, bruised. and the more he watches, the more he feeds on that agony, the deeper he falls into the nightmare of this endless fucking twisted game.

Inho is too far gone. he’s lived through the games, seen how the system works, and he’s embraced it without shame. to him, the so called “blood money” he earned is a truth. he doesn’t hide from it. he doesn’t pretend it’s anything else. he has seen too many bodies pile up to think there’s any other way. Inho believes the only way forward is through destruction. he’s accepted the curse of the games. hell, he’s fucking embraced it ! the lives lost are nothing more than fuel for his ascent to power. people are pawns, and pawns don’t matter. it’s all part of the game.

Gihun, though… he’s not like Inho. he too has been brutalized by the games, crushed under the weight of the world’s cruelty, watching as the lives of those he loved dimmed. BUT! even so !! there’s this flicker of light in him — a really fucking stubborn and desperate hope to protect those who still live, to undo the wrongs. for all the pain he’s endured, he hasn’t completely surrendered to the darkness. he’s been pushed, stretched to the breaking point by the horrors he’s witnessed, by the blood shed that he can never wash away and still lingers even in his dreams … but there’s this part of him that still fights to hold on to the fragments of the man he used to be. he’s so stubbornly human.

and yet, it’s not the break that Inho is after imo — it’s the collapse. he doesn’t just want to see Gihun’s humanity crack; he wants to see him fold. he wants to make him question everything, even his need to protect others, even the value of his own moral code. to descend into madness, forsaking logic.

you can see him being fascinated when Gihun agrees to sacrifice people for the greater good. I swear, you can see Inho alive in that moment. I can’t explain it other than he’s feeding on him. he’s watching this man, so different from him, with scars that shine the same way, who once held onto some semblance of hope, succumb to the same darkness that devoured him.

he wants to see the man who refused to let the games destroy him finally fall into the same dark logic that built those games in the first place.

but here’s the thing — Gihun’s resistance, his refusal to just surrender to Inho's desires, drives him insane. Inho, for all his power, for all his twisted thrill at orchestrating this, isn’t immune to that same hunger. he sees Gihun as both a reflection and a challenge. it torments him. he wants to unravel him from the inside. the more he watches, the more he understands just how much it is tearing at him, how much he wants it.

there is a tenderness to it, a chilling, perverse tenderness, where one offers the illusion of safety while the other inches closer to the slaughter.

what drives me insane is that Gihun doesn’t know. he doesn’t know that the man he’s grown to trust, the one who’s quietly listened to his every confession, who has offered him that flicker of human connection in the desolate wasteland of the games, is the very demon he’s been chasing. the one that has orchestrated every nightmare he’s endured. and every time Gihun speaks of his mission, of his burning desire to kill the one who created this nightmare, to undo the games and get revenge Inho just listens intently, relishing in every moment of vulnerability.  and it’s delicious. Gihun is literally unraveling before him, piece by piece, and Inho hasn’t even revealed the true extent of his power!

the betrayal scene is going to be so good. SO FUCKING GOOD. it’s when Gihun talks about revenge, when he plans to end the game, to kill the person behind it all, that Inho feels that twisted thrill in his chest. because what Gihun doesn’t realize is that all those plans, all those quiet declarations of death, have been heard and they’ve been absorbed, broken down, and processed. Inho already knows what Gihun is capable of, what he’s willing to do, and how far he’s willing to go to get his revenge. it doesn’t matter to Inho. it never has. he’s already five steps ahead. Inho has studied Gihun like a surgeon carving through flesh, patiently unraveling his soul, savoring each fragile thread of hope only to tighten the noose, knowing that the moment Gihun’s trust shatters, so too will his humanity.

-> and like … Gihun’s humanity is his greatest weakness. his desperate hope to protect, to save, to make things right when he couldn’t before (example: in season 1 when a dying man reached for him and he looked away, in season 2 he helped a dying man) that's what Inho sinks his teeth into, because he knows that in this world, hope is the ultimate poison, the biggest gamble. every moment Gihun spends clinging to the idea that he can save anyone, that he can stop the game — that he can stop The Frontman — it draws him closer to the truth that will eventually shatter him.

and imo — Inho watches him with a twisted admiration, because in that desperate struggle, he sees himself or rather, the version of him that could’ve been if he had not embraced the game so fully. and in that, their paths, though seemingly different, are always converging. they are the same in the most brutal way: two sides of a coin, both marked by the same blood, the same violence, the same emptiness, and in the end, they are not so different after all. for all their differences, in the end — they are mirrors.

addition cause I saw this post and omg ?? it’s an intentional, almost possessive move. he’s not just playing along with their conversation; he’s LITERALLYYY replacing Jungbae with himself in Gihun’s mind, stepping into the role of someone who belongs in Gihun’s future.

Inho doesn’t just want power or control over the situation — he wants needs Gihun to need him, to see him as the one who’s always there, the one who understands him, the one who can stand beside him.

and to me, it feels like a possessive kind of longing that goes beyond mere rivalry or control. it’s ugh — just the way they orbit around each other, the way Inho needs Gihun to acknowledge him, to see him as more than just the “other guy that joined my team”.

and as much as Gi-hun is fighting to hold on to his humanity and the relationships that matter to him, Inho is just as desperately fighting to be the one that Gihun turns to in the end. it’s obsessive. it’s possessive. it’s dangerously romantic and I need them to fuck it out.

[solxamber]

Dragon's Favourite Sacrifice – Trey Clover x reader

Trey finds himself volunteering to be the human sacrifice to you in place of his siblings. What he didn't expect was to become your housekeeper instead of being eaten.

Crossposted from my ao3!

The village doesn’t know how to react when Trey volunteers as a sacrifice. He’s fully prepared for the worst, thinking back on all the horror stories the elders tell about the dragon god—the terrifying, ancient being that can destroy their village with one swipe of a claw. At least, that’s what everyone says.

But it had to be done. The village is on the brink of disaster and their last hope was the dragon god that lived in the mountains. The villagers began to proclaim that this was happening because they forgot to send a sacrifice in recent years. And when the current sacrifice chosen turned out to be one of his younger siblings, Trey had no choice but to volunteer himself.

As he approaches the temple, though, Trey wonders why the place looks like it hasn't been touched in years. Not exactly what you’d expect from a wrathful deity.

Maybe they just don't care about keeping things tidy before eating their next victim?

The inside of the temple is surprisingly cozy, but he doesn't have time to think about it. You, the ancient dragon, make your entrance—or rather, you wander in, yawning, and blink at him like you've just woken up from a really long nap.

“Hey… uh, are you the dragon god?” Trey asks, clutching the bundle of supplies he'd brought along.

You stretch, wings fluttering lazily behind you, before giving him a confused look. "Who else would I be? The village’s lost pet?"

Trey blinks. This is not what he was expecting. He was ready for a quick, brutal end. Maybe some fire and brimstone. Not... this.

“Right.” He clears his throat. “I’m Trey, from the village. They sent me as the sacrifice.”

You squint at him like he's just told you the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard. "Sacrifice? They still do that? I haven’t asked for a sacrifice in… decades. I was actually happy to not have my nap interrupted by scared humans. I was going to help with the crisis anyway."

Now it’s Trey's turn to stare. “You… don’t want the sacrifice?”

"Nope." You shrug, completely nonchalant. "You can go back to the village if you want. Or, if you're looking for a change of scenery, the village on the other side of the mountain is kinda nice."

Trey lets out a small sigh, but it’s not exactly relief. “I… can’t. If I go back, they'll think the offering was rejected. My siblings could suffer for it."

You pause, then nod thoughtfully. "Ah, yeah, human politics." You click your tongue. "I hate when that happens. Well, just so you know, the past sacrifices? Yeah, they all ended up in the village on the other side of the mountain."

Trey’s jaw drops. "Wait… what?"

"Yeah." You nod sagely. "They all thought the same thing—'Oh no, the dragon’s gonna eat me'—but I just sent them over there.”

He blinks at you again, trying to absorb all of this information. "So… you don’t actually…?"

"Eat people?" you finish for him, giving him a strange look. "No. That’s gross. Why would I do that?"

Trey's lips twitch upward. A beat of silence passes before Trey clears his throat again. "Mind if I stay, then? I can cook, clean, and—"

You give him a sideways glance, and your eyes light up. "Wait. You cook?"

"Yeah," Trey says, still trying to grasp that he’s negotiating his survival with a dragon.

A slow grin spreads across your face. "Well then, you’re hired. Welcome to dragon duty."

Trey’s not sure whether to laugh or cry at how anticlimactic this has all turned out. He’d prepared himself for noble sacrifice, but instead, he’s somehow signed up for dragon housekeeping duty. With a deep breath, he puts on a smile. "So, uh, what do you want for dinner?"

From that moment on, life with you is… surprisingly comfortable. Trey, ever practical, makes himself useful.

He handles things with the same calm practicality he’d use back in the village, except now, there’s a giant, sometimes snarky dragon looming over him as he goes about his tasks.

He spends his days cooking, tending to the temple’s neglected gardens, and even baking pastries—though you still don’t believe him when he says there’s no oyster sauce in his sweets.

“You’re pulling my tail,” you mutter, eyeing the perfectly innocent-looking cake Trey’s set out in front of you. “I can taste something weird in it.”

Trey just smiles. “Oyster sauce. Definitely.”

You huff, giving up on trying to figure him out, and focus on enjoying your meals and new company instead.

One evening, after a particularly good dinner (with no discernible oyster flavor, much to your disappointment), you glance at Trey lounging by the fireplace. He's been here for a while now, and you find that you're quite enjoying his company. In fact, you're enjoying it a little too much.

"So, you’re not as terrifying as the stories make you out to be," Trey comments one day, setting down a plate of food.

You snort, flipping lazily on your side. "Thanks, I guess. Humans are always so dramatic."

"And the drought?" Trey asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Taken care of," you reply with a smug smile. "Already brought in the rains.”

He nods and settles down next to you, holding a book from the library that you never bothered to visit.

Well, it's now or never. “So,” you begin, almost casually, “I’ve decided.”

“Decided what?” Trey looks up from the book he’s reading.

“That you’ll be my mate.”

He nearly drops the book. “Your... what?”

“My mate.” You stretch your wings, trying to look as imposing as possible—though you’re pretty sure Trey isn’t intimidated by you anymore. “You’re the first human who actually stuck around. And you can cook. That’s mate material.”

Trey is, understandably, at a loss for words. “…You’re serious?”

“Completely.” You flash him that grin again, all teeth and playful confidence. “Unless you’ve got a better offer somewhere else?”

Trey pinches the bridge of his nose, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. “No, I think I’ll stick around.”

And just like that, Trey Clover—the supposed human sacrifice—finds himself the mate of a centuries-old dragon. Maybe this wasn’t the fate he expected, but all things considered… it could be worse.

At least the dragon likes his cooking.

Masterlist

[revelboo]

Sheeesh, First Starscream, then Soundwave, now Megatron?? Who’s next, Shockwave? ☠️

Nah, I’d only intended Megs, Star, and Soundwave here. Just wasn’t sure if y’all would be okay with reverse harems in your TF fics 😅

Everything Is Alright Pt 86

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• “Starscream.” Still following him, still trying to dig around in his head. Rounding on Soundwave, Starscream bares his denta. Seeing the communications officer let his hand fall. Knows that if the other mech dares to touch him, he’ll attack. Because all of this is his fault. Even if he regrets what he did, it’s far too late. Soundwave set him on this course and he can’t turn back. To keep you, he can’t hesitate, can’t waver. Glaring at Soundwave, he waits and the other mech just shakes his head. “Don’t do this.”

• “If you actually care about my mate, you won’t get in my way,” Starscream growls, wings flared. And he can feel the anger, fear, and desperation to protect what he has in the Seeker. Knows Starscream is walking a thin line, that he’s at risk of destroying everything he’s trying to keep safe. And that nothing Soundwave says is going to sway him from that goal. A fully bonded mech stressed past his limits is a dangerous thing, because he won’t stop. Can’t. Starscream brushes by him and he lets him go. Can almost feel the danger closing in. That he might be past the point of stopping this and all he can hope for is to save you from the fallout.

• Striding down the hall, Starscream’s hands won’t stop trembling. Determined even as he wants to grab you and run. To try to escape this even knowing he can’t. That he won’t be allowed happiness. Not as long as Megatron lives. He’s tried so many times to overthrow him, always failing. Always suffering for that failure. This time he has to succeed, because it’s not only him at risk. You’re his to protect, you need him. And he needs you.

• “Attempts to synthesize stable energon alternatives have been so far unsuccessful, but-” Lifting his head when Shockwave trails off, Megatron keeps sliding his servo up and down your back, amusing himself with how uncomfortable you are with his touch as you sit on his thigh, little hands in fists. “Lord Megatron, I realize it’s not my place to question you, but why?” Venting in amusement as Shockwave just gestures weakly with his cannon. Not sure if the other mech is more put off by having a human about or that you’re not in a cage somewhere. Or it could be that he’s touching you.

• “A learning opportunity for Starscream, that’s all,” Megatron says, servos curling around you as you inhale sharply. “Keep up your experiments,” he adds, flicking the servos of his other hand dismissively. All day there’s been a stream of visitors reporting in. Asking for him to mediate arguments, most of which seem fairly petty. As soon as this one leaves, he slumps back against his throne, free hand lifting to rub between his optics. And you’re realizing there’s two faces to Megatron. The intimidating warlord and this exhausted, over it version that disappears as soon as he’s not alone. Apparently you’re not worth keeping up the act most of the time, though. Head falling back, optics shuttered, he vents. “Tell me, pet. Do you really believe that traitorous creature can change?”

• “I think he wants to,” you say, soft voice wavering as he slides a servo up to rest against your throat, tapping idly. “If you’d just let him.” Huffing out a laugh, he glances down at your serious, little face. Amused that you seem to actually believe that. Poor little thing. You still don’t understand Starscream’s ambition. That he can’t help himself, clawing for power no matter the consequences. While he’s not sure what the Seeker saw in you that distracted him temporarily from his goal, he knows it’s just that. Temporary. Freezing when you lay your warm hands on his servo, Megatron nearly pulls his hand away.

• Lowering your head when those angry optics narrow, you hold your breath. “If I let him,” he mutters as your shoulders droop. “You’re loyal to him, I’ll give you that. You’d be better served being loyal to me, though.” That servo against your throat tips your chin up, forcing you to meet his optics. “He cares for you, talks to you. You must hear things.” Pushing at his servo, you realize he’s wanting you to spy on Star. Tell him his secrets.

• “Not happening.” That anger in your soft voice is a surprise, unexpected as those eyes narrow at him. So there is some fire to you. He’d assumed you were all soft and compliant, easily cowed. Why does that little flash of temper twist through him? Because you’re resisting him and he’s so used to his followers never outright disagreeing or refusing him? “I’m not betraying him for you. He’s trying to be better and I love him for-” and you stop short, dropping your eyes and going still. Love? That’s how Starscream wrapped you about his servos? Convinced you that he loved you, cared for you? Because it’s so ludicrous he almost pities you, laughing despite himself as you stiffen.

Previous

Next

[chocostrwberry]

Sentimaggedon!!

Sentimonster designs I came up with bc I was thinking about Argos’s debut in my AU! Bc I’m dumb and I haven’t thought too deep about him as a character to the story yet-

They were originally suppose to all be based on the seven deadly sins, especially Gasumptious (gluttony) and Elvy (envy). But I also wanted to branch into maybe Felix’s other hidden emotions, like his deep love for Kagami and his fear of being replaced by Adrien (Bride and Athazagora).

Argos becomes an official enemy when Dragonbug tells him they need to be destroyed. He defends them, saying they’re just “infants” and can learn how to behave properly with time. But a frustrated and exhausted Dragonbug she tells him they aren’t like humans and are created for one purpose: to serve and destroy. This hits home with Argos, and he develops a fear and hatred for Ladybug and swears his loyalty to Madame Morphisa afterwards in order to take her down and prove just how monstrous he can be.

I’m still kinda trying to find a way to make this concept work in my au. He promised to serve her in exchange for the peacock miraculous, and she wants him to use it to take Ladybug’s miraculous. In a novice attempt, he might have just starting creating multiple sentimonsters that he thought were harmless enough (something she did NOT expect), but they quickly spiraled out of control. It’s much easier to make sentimonsters based on others emotions, because you can predict which one you will create it off of. But instead, he chose his own, which makes it more difficult to tell how the sentimonster will act. I think it would show the aspect that these creatures do have a mind of their own, compared to previous Mayura sentimonsters who were easily controlled by their akumas!!

Red Moon

Red Moon is obviously already canon, but her power is instead hypnosis. If you get caught in her light, you stop whatever you are doing to stare at her. The streets of Paris become like a statue exhibit: countless of unlucky citizens are bathing in her glow, staring at the beauty of the red moon.

Gasumptious

As he devours, Gasumptious grows bigger and bigger. He’ll eat anything, so beware! After finishing most of the city, Gasumptious sits atop the Eiffel Tower and gnaws on its metal posts.

Elvy

Elvy lives in the sewers. She can control water and uses it to drain you of happy memories, which she keeps in floating green orbs and guards for herself.

It’s so silly to me how the manifestation of Felix’s jealousy of Adrien is fought and defeated by Chat Noir, who is Adrien ehehehheeh.

She also sounds like a Pokémon!! Probably like a Lapras, or the one that trills really pretty

Athazagora

A timid creature, Athazagora took over the catacombs, and hides in the shadows. You can hear the creaking and rattling of its wooden limbs in the dark as it stalk you. If you can’t escape, it envelops you in its cloak of darkness, never to be seen again.

Bride

The supposed advisor of Argos. She never leaves his side, and is always whispering something in his ear. To protect Argos, she showcases her ability to turn her arm into a long spear/sword, incredible strength and mobility, and that her body is made of an indestructible crystal.

Plus, he can make multiple sentimonsters bc he’s a sentihuman himself (Other people can’t. You can only make one, kind of like how the Butterfly miraculous can only Akumatize one person at a time, unless they share an object. Current excuse I’m going with that makes semi-sense HEHEHE) . So Lila totally wants to use that to her own advantage!

Ofc he fails, but she’s impressed with his resolve (and the lengths he was willing to go, albeit unintentionally), especially after sharing her goal of destroying Ladybug. Lila was feeling the effects of unification and now has a willing minion to do her bidding whenever she pleases.

If I decide to go with this plot, Lila has to end up forgetting Felix because of the curse. But she doesn’t care: all she really needs is Argos. I might need to retcon her revenge against Felix because of this but idm! It wasn’t very important to the plot anyways!

I was considering having Dragonbug in this episode, since she could use Perfection to snipe Red Moon out of the sky! The lucky charm would be like a wand that creates a sticky translucent web to keep the sentimonsters secure so they can go find their amoks.

And a sentimonster I never ended up including, Ava. I just didn’t have a reason to put her in there but I liked the yin and yang style of her design!!

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Aftermath

Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Word Count: 7k

Synopsis: In the aftermath of Eddie’s death, you visit Wayne and you grieve Eddie together. You admit to him you never got to tell Eddie how you feel, but unbeknownst to you, Eddie hears your confession and is trying to make his way back home to you from the Upside Down. 

Warnings: heavy angst; grief; depression; mention of character death; smut (18+ minors dni); oral (m receiving); piv/unprotected sex; dirty talk; sub/sort of switch!eddie; smoking

A/N: I wanna shout out @punkrockmlchael @keeryhours @losingmygrasponreality and @munsonsmixtapes y'all are great- thank you for letting me talk to y'all about this fic <3

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! And requests are currently open :)

Everything still didn’t feel real. As the dust settles and Hawkins begins to pick up the pieces, you still feel like you’re stuck underwater. He’s gone- and everyone around you celebrates like they're better off for it. People rise from the ashes, content to keep the world turning- so much progress yet you are completely paralyzed. And it feels like no one else cares. 

They do care. They’re just happy. Relieved to be rid of the devil worshiping, fork tongued, serial killer that they fabricated and made the villain of this nightmare. They celebrate, and embrace, treating the aftermath like an uplifting time. You’re stuck- paralyzed by the immense pain that sits deep in your chest. It weighs you down, and you wished for anything but this. 

You wished for Eddie, because he’s the one person who’d pull you out of this when you’d spiral. You can’t feel grounded because your rock is gone. Your heart hangs so heavy with regret as you mourn your best friend and the love of your life. And you never got to tell him. 

As Jason and his friends created a witch hunt, everyone’s priority was to keep Eddie safe- there  \were so many times you felt like you should’ve said something. Your inner voice yelling at you to do anything- something before it was too late. You chickened out every time, petrified of rejection and worried you’d ruin what you had more than it had already been threatened. 

Now you don’t know how to feel anything at all. He’s just gone. And the rest of the town moves on. And you can hardly breathe, covered with dust as you stay exactly where you were. You weren’t there at the end, and you wish you’d had. To be with him, comfort him, make him know just how much he means. You’re angry you didn’t stick up for yourself when the group suggested you didn’t follow them. You’re angry you let Eddie convince you to stay behind when they traveled into the Upside Down. You should have been there. 

So now, like a body possessed, you go through the motions to get by with hardly living. You’re a shell, floating aimlessly from one thing to the next but you aren’t there. Because Eddie isn’t there. You miss him so much your brain can’t handle the amount of grief that’s overtaking you. You feel consumed by such an immense sadness just all the time. 

Dustin was the first person you saw, and you both held each other as you both wailed. He didn’t have to say anything, you instinctively knew. Both of you, tangled up in pain, holding on to the last bit of him you both had in that moment- each other. You both crumbled , and you cried so hard until your bodies exhausted themselves. 

Compelled to just make yourself feel anything, sick of the numbness- just wanting to expel the dark cloud sitting inside you, you find the strength to make your way to the Munson trailer, just hoping Wayne would be there. You knew Wayne needed you, and you needed him. You needed Wayne in your life- the father figure that stepped up for Eddie, but also for you. 

When Wayne opens the door, you notice he looks completely destroyed. His eyes, like yours, are bloodshot from tears and a man who you once thought was the tallest man in the world, looks so very small. The same small cloud that has dwelled in you since he died, also festered and plagued Wayne. 

The second he opens the door, you need a hug. Suddenly, you feel like a little kid again, safer now that Wayne is around. In his embrace, you feel heard, without needing to speak. You know he’s feeling the same pain, the same loss, and he’s the only person in the whole world that you need to be near right now. You just pray that he lets you in.

“He didn’t do it,” you sob, clinging to Wayne’s flannel shirt. He rubs your back comfortingly. 

“I know he didn’t,” he soothes you, but you can still hear that he’s crying as well. 

Wayne holds you and it gives him some solace for the first time in weeks. He’s relieved that you’ve come back to visit. You're the first of Eddie’s friends to make the journey over. But, of course you were. 

Once you manage to pull yourself somewhat together, you pull away from the hug. “I wanted to know if I could still come visit,” you ask meekly, desperate to encase yourself back into Eddie’s world. Wayne nods, hugging you again, stroking your head to comfort you as the tears begin to fall again. 

“I loved him, I love him,” you confess pathetically and Wayne shushes you like a child needing to be comforted. It’s a sound you’re familiar with. There have been many moments in your life where Wayne was the one there to pick up the pieces. Bullies would be mean to both you at school, Eddie and you would run home with tear stained cheeks, and he’d hold you both like how he’s holding you now. 

“I know, kiddo,” he soothed. “I know.” 

“Can- can I go to his room? Just for a minute,” you plead. 

“You can stay as long as you want,” Wayne promises, stepping aside to let you in. 

The trailer hasn’t changed- it’s got that look about it, always. It’s comforting to look around it and just feel him. It sounds so crazy but you swear you can feel Eddie- your senses are just overwhelmed with so much of him after weeks of an extreme emptiness. 

His room is untouched, you can tell Wayne hasn’t been ready to go in. His unmade bed, his dirty laundry, his tapes- everything is exactly as he left it. The bed he won’t crawl back into, the tshirts he won’t wear, the new tape that he’ll never hear- it’s all paused. A room that was once as lively as the boy who lived in it now felt like a time capsule that is the only proof that he was there. 

You sit on his bed, trying to commit it all to your memory. You feel so dizzy, and all you can do is fixate on every detail. Petrified you’ll forget something, which will turn into something else, and then before you know it you’ve lost all of the pieces that make Eddie. 

Laying on his bed, you stare up at the ceiling, you just let yourself sink into your sadness. You feel engulfed by him, his essence. It’s the closest you know you’ll ever get to the real thing again. You burrow into his pillow and blankets and just let yourself become fully cased in, you close your eyes and you can almost pretend he’ll be there when you open your eyes. He’ll be there, sitting on the floor strumming his guitar like he had done a million times before. You swear you can feel him there. 

He’s screaming for you, begging you to hear him. He’s scared and alone and can’t get out. He’s stuck in this limbo. He can see you, he can see everyone- no one knows he’s alive. He’s trying to reach out to you as he stands in his room, only in the Upside Down. His face is messy with grime and tears, his whole body aches. He can’t muster up the strength to run anymore. Seeing you like this though? Worse than anything else he feels like he’s been through. He needed to get back home, but he couldn’t figure out how. 

 He hears a gentle knock on the door, and it feels like a million miles away. Even if it doesn’t matter, he steps aside still trying to talk to you when he watches Wayne walk in. For the first time, Eddie’s speechless. He gives up on his talking for just a moment, he scrambles around his room, looking for any way to send the two of you a sign. 

Wayne takes a seat on the edge of the bed. He rubs your back gently over Eddie’s comforter. He doesn’t want you to think he wants you to leave. Eddie’s looking through the wreckage of his bedroom in the Upside Down, he needs to find his radio. He can see it on top of his dresser in the real world, and he’s trying to find the one there. If he can play something, anything, maybe he has a shot that the two of you will hear it. 

“I called your house, they know you’re with me,” Wayne says soothingly. He can see the blanket move so he knows you nodded. “I was hoping you’d take me up on having dinner here,” he adds. “I’m so used to cooking for two..,” he trails off, not wanting to make you any sadder. He sees the comforter nod again, and he pats your shoulder to make his exit. 

“Did you know?” you ask suddenly, Wayne turning around in the doorway. “Do you think he knew?” You ask, sitting up a little and wiping your eyes. Eddie stops his search and his eyes are just focused on you. 

“Did I know what, sweetheart?” Wayne asks softly. You take a few shaky breaths. 

“Was it obvious..,” you are embarrassed, “Was it obvious that I liked him? I never told him…”

“We didn’t really talk about stuff like that,” he responds. “But, you and Eddie had such a special bond… You meant so much to him, don’t let that be the thing you focus on.”

“I waited and then it was too late,” you sniffle. 

“Eddie loved you more than anything,” Wayne reiterates, and you know it’s true. You just didn’t know in what way. 

Eddie thinks he might be sick. He jumps over a pile of his dirty clothes to kneel on the bed in front of you. He knows you can’t see him, it doesn’t matter. He stares into your eyes even though he knows you aren’t seeing him back. 

“The whole time?” he laughs, tears welling up again, he hits his fist to the mattress. “Of course I liked you, oh my god. I couldn’t have been more obvious! On what planet would I not be completely head over heels in love with you?” He exclaims. His laughter sounds almost delirious- he feels like he’s losing his goddamn mind. “Oh my god, baby, I- Fuck this,” he grumbles. “This is bullshit,” he says, looking around the room again for something to use. “I’m getting back there,” he announces to the void, “I’m getting back there and I swear to god, the first thing after I kiss you- I’m making fun of you for being so stupid to think I wouldn’t like you. Christ, where the fuck is my stereo?” 

His foot kicks something and he curses, but then he laughs triumphantly because he hears static. He uncovers the stereo from under one of his shirts and thankfully it looks salvageable. He sits down, pulling it onto his lap, and messes with the frequency. “Please, please, please,” he mutters over and over again, hoping to get some sort of signal out. Nothing. He tosses it aside, racking his brain trying to remember anything the group told him. “Lights, lights!” he says, scurrying over to the switch on the wall, frantically flicking it on and off. 

The lights in the room suddenly flicker, and your head tilts, looking up at the ceiling light. Your first instinct is to brush it off, the bulb probably just needs to be replaced. The annoyance of the flickering switch is enough to get you out of bed to turn off the light. You walk over to flip the switch to off, and you realize the overhead light is already switched to off. Puzzled, you look over, and see the lamp on Eddie’s bedside table is flickering now too. Then, the hall light flickers, like some electric current is running the length of the house messing with the lights. The lights over the kitchenette start to flicker next, and it makes Wayne jump. 

You follow the light trail, trying to figure out what’s going on. You look to Wayne and he looks just as mystified as you. Eddie, in the meantime, is banging the walls, flipping the switches, trying anything to get your attention. He’s yelling incoherent nonsense, jumping around, hitting things- fuck the monsters, he’s not afraid anymore. He’s not letting an opportunity to let you know that he’s there slip by. 

“Might be the generator acting up,” Wayne muses, explaining the odd sight away. You aren’t convinced, but you don’t know any better. So many parts of the journey, you were left out- you didn’t know about the electromagnetic elements of the Upside Down. You were left out of the loop, Eddie insisting you stay back for your own safety more times than not. You were mad at him still for that, honestly. Eddie knew Jason could’ve used you in some way to get to him. The less you knew, the better he felt. You resented it, knowing you could’ve handled Jason and his goons. It doesn’t matter anymore. 

“You think so?” You mumble, unconvinced. You observe as there seems to be an obvious pattern to the flickering of the lights. It was like someone was running up and down the length of the trailer, messing with the switches. The generator is the easiest answer, and the rational side of you tells you to just let it be. The other side of you, maybe the delusional side- looking for any sort of sign, thinks it’s something. 

“Can I use the phone?” You ask, and Wayne nods. You grab the receiver off of the base and start dialing Dustin’s home phone number. Wayne continues to work on dinner, turning on his portable radio to offer you some privacy as you make a call. 

“Hi Mrs. Henderson,” you say when Dustin’s mother answers. “I understand that it’s dinner time, I’m sorry. I was just hoping Dustin could talk for just a few minutes? I understand, ma’am. Please, just this once? Thank you, ma’am.” 

Dustin sounds confused when he says your name on the other end of the phone. “What’s going on?” He asks, understandably confused. 

“The lights in Eddie’s trailer are going haywire,” you explain, not sure how to explain it to him. “It’s so weird, I don’t know how to describe it. It’s random- but it doesn’t feel that way. It’s just Wayne and I here, but it’s like someone is flipping the switches over and over again.” 

Eddie says a little prayer that Henderson will pick up on the fact that he’s trying to let you guys know he’s there. He watches you intently as you listen to Dustin, and answer his follow-up questions. He watched as you try to hold back a smile, the first one in weeks to Grace your pretty face. 

“Are you sure?” You ask again in disbelief, listening to Dustin’s theory. You’re skeptical, you can’t let yourself believe Eddie might be alive. You couldn’t bear the disappointment. 

“We’ve seen it before,” Dustin says, and you can tell he’s rushing off the phone. “Trust me, let me figure something out. Do you know Morse code?” 

“No,” you answer dejectedly. You also don’t know if Eddie would know any Morse code, but maybe Dustin knew more than you. 

“That’s okay,” Dustin says, you hear him scribbling something down. “See if there’s something you can figure out. A pattern, anything- I got to go. My mom is gonna flip out if I’m not back like now.  I can call you back after dinner- use Eddie’s walkie.” 

Dustin hangs up abruptly and you place the receiver down, dejectedly. You smile towards Wayne and the lights finally settle down. You offer to help and Wayne happily takes you up on the offer. It’s a small space, but the two of you make it work. It’s a nice silence, but it also weighs heavy among you. It shouldn’t be like this. It should be chaotic and messy and loud and he should be here. 

“Remember that one Halloween you took Eddie and I trick or treating, and we both wanted to be Casper,” you reminisce. Wayne offers a deep, throaty chuckle. 

“You both tricked me, I dropped Eddie off at your house and it wasn’t until I was halfway back home that I realized I had the wrong kid,” Wayne huffs, and you break into a fit of giggles. “Just like that,” he points at you, “you laughed just like that under the sheet and you gave yourself away.” 

Wayne hands you a plate and you both sit down at the tiny kitchen table. You’re happy to see him like this. He’s not okay, and you’re not okay. But for now, he’s letting you in- and he’s letting you in so he can heal, even if never fully. He knows Eddie would want you here. 

You settle back into a comfortable silence again as you both eat. Both of you just happy to not be alone. You know your other friends feel this loss- everyone is just pained with losing Eddie. Everyone’s spirits are broken. Wayne and you knew Eddie best, the longest. Everyone is mourning their friend. Wayne and you are mourning Eddie in every phase of his life. 

Grief is a fickle thing. It comes down in waves. Unpredictable and always messy. And always uniquely different. It’s an anchor that sits on your chest and the seams that hold you together in the moments where you miss them the most. It also makes you emboldened. Too sad to care about anything- it lowers inhibitions and makes you realize how life is too short to be embarrassed. And it hits you all at once, and you don’t even know when you started crying into your food. 

It’s an ugly cry- the kind where you struggle to breathe, your nose runs uncontrollably and it sounds inhuman. Wayne comforts you the best he can, resting a hand on your shoulder. You can hardly speak as you manage to talk between heavy sobs. 

Eddie’s devastated. It hurts him so much to see you like this. He’s never seen this and he hopes soon he won’t have to again. Because he’ll figure out how to get home to you. As Wayne pulls you into a hug, Eddie makes a vow that no matter what he’s getting back. He racks his brain, trying to remember what his friends told him about the Upside Down. He wishes he could contact Dustin- he’s in no condition to even try to head over to his house. He needs to stay here- hoping you will continue to pick up on the clues. 

You ask Wayne if you can stay in Eddie’s room a little longer after dinner. He of course says yes. You help him with the dishes, and then head back to Eddie’s room. On his desk, you’re shifting through the clutter to try to find paper. So you can make notes of any weird occurrences. Eddie watched intently as you carefully move the amps, and find a composition book he had stashed away. It’s just a junk notebook, he’d use it to scribble or write down song ideas or brainstorm campaigns. 

You flip to a blank page as you take a seat at his desk chair. Eddie’s thankful he remembers a little Morse code- at least he learned something for the very brief time he was a scout (before he was kicked out). He walks over to the switch on the wall. 

One short flash, one long flash 

One short flash, one king flash, two short flashes 

Two short flashes 

Three short flashes, one long flash 

One short flash 

He repeats this over and over again, not sure what else he can do or what else he can relay. He knows you don’t know Morse code, and it needs to be simple enough that you can pick up the sequence and tell it to Dustin. He watches over your shoulder as you write down what you’ve seen. 

He watches as you look around until you locate his walkie. You press the button to speak. 

“Dustin?” You ask hesitantly, feeling a little foolish. 

“Dustin, over,” you hear him say, and you roll your eyes. 

“Yeah- there’s definitely a pattern here,” you say. 

“Say over when your done talking, over.”

“That’s stupid, over,” you quip. 

“Do you want my help or not? Over,” Dustin replies, obviously getting frustrated. 

You read off your notes to Dustin and it takes a few minutes for him to respond. The waiting is what’s killing you. Eddie tries to think of something else he can relay with the lights. Hopefully what he's done is enough, he thinks. 

“It spells alive, over,” Dustin says at last. You can hear the excitement in his voice, and it makes you feel like you’ve been able to take a full deep breath for the first time in weeks. 

“Are you sure?” You ask, trying to hold back. You can’t let yourself spiral. You can’t let yourself get your hopes up. It would break you. “Oh shit, the lights are doing something else now!”

One short flash 

One long flash, two short flashes 

One long flash, two short flashes 

Two short flashes 

One short flash

“What’s it say?” You ask impatiently. 

“It spells out Eddie,” Dustin responds, and Eddie can hear the happiness in his voice. 

“Oh fuck,” you exclaim, excitedly. You get up and pace anxiously. “How do we get him back, Dustin?” You ask, panicked, “How do I get him home?” 

“Shit,” Dustin replied, “We need to open the gate.” 

“How do we do that?” You insist. 

“Standby,” Dustin states matter of factly. “Can you stay at Eddie’s tonight?” 

“Sure, of course- whatever I need to do,” you say with certainty. 

“See if you can get anything else. Maybe he’ll send us something,” Dustin instructs. “We need to rope everyone else in on this. So we can do anything until tomorrow.” 

“We just found out that Eddie’s alive, stranded in hell and you’re saying we aren’t waking everyone else up and dealing with this immediately?” You’re angry. 

“We need to strategize, we can’t just half ass this,” Dustin rationalizes. “We need to figure out what to do,  we can’t exactly just call Eleven and just have her open a gate. Everyone is still looking for her. Besides, we don’t know if it’s actually Eddie yet either.”

“Of course it’s Eddie!” You interject. 

“We also can’t hurt him,” Dustin explains. “If we open the gate, it might send creatures his way that he isn’t strong enough to deal with. We need to do this right.” 

You can’t explain how it happened. It was really Dustin who headed the whole operation. You did your best to help, remembering some things from before. You watched your friends in awe, everyone banded together- no one stopping round the clock. It was incredible to witness. Your heart swelled. Everyone just loved Eddie, and no one was stopping until he was home safe. It was a group effort. Even Susie was phoned in from out of state to help out. It was sweet, watching Dustin get flustered as the two of them talked over walk-in talkie. You’d been waiting in the back of Nancy’s car,  Robin anxiously playing with the walkie- the three of you on stand-by as Steve, Jonathan and the others disappeared into the woods, hoping to bring Eddie out. You all wait, silently begging for any sort of update. And then you see them, huddled together- a group effort to carry Eddie. 

Eddie. 

He feels like he can finally breathe. The clean air fills his lungs and he feels like part of his old self again. Slung around Steve for support, he’s limping still from his injuries but he might as well have been running up the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Real life doesn’t feel real, it suddenly feels better. Especially, when he lifts his head and sees you right there, waiting for him. 

He smiles, that dopey perfect smile of his, like nothing happened. All he can do is just see you, it’s all he’s thought about and he’s just taking it all in- just you. In the flesh, standing right in front of him, waiting for him and loving him. He made it back to you, his girl, just like he promised himself he would. 

You can’t bear it any longer, you rush to his side, taking the weight of him from Steve- pulling Eddie in to a panicked embrace, like you might lose him again. He’s here, he’s actually really here. You realize you can’t squander this- not taking time for granted again. Not when he’s made it back to you like this. You sob, overwhelmed. The feeling of him after all this time has left you stunned. Everything else just fades- nothing matters now except him and the feeling of him against you like this. 

“Hi to you too, sweetheart,” he coughs, happily throwing his arms around you. Steve steps back to give you both space. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbles against your hair, kissing your forehead. Although it makes him wince to move his arm, he tilts your chin up to look at him. “And I’m so sorry I never did this sooner.” 

He presses his lips to yours, and you gasp softly in surprise at first. His hand cups your jaw and you feel his smile when you begin to kiss him back. His lips are so soft, except for the small cut that’s starting to heal. You’re too wrapped up in him to even notice. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him in close. 

“I love you,” you rush, pulling away from the kiss- desperate to finally tell him. “I love you so much-“ he cuts you off with another kiss, not able to get enough of you. He knows! Oh God, he knows and he wants to sing it from the rooftops when his body doesn’t ache like this. But, fuck- he knows. And that is the best feeling. 

Wayne waits patiently, watching the two of you. He always knew you’d end up like this. He wasn’t one to interfere- but he knew before either of you. He considers himself so lucky to have watched your story together unfold. Shit, tears well in his eyes. His Eddie is home and safe. That’s all he cares about. His boy is alive and well and loved. Everything is going to be alright again. You all can move through this, together. 

“Love you so much,” Eddie says, pulling back. He wraps his arm around your shoulder. “I gotta see Wayne,” he whispers and you nod, helping him walk the rest of the way up the small dirt road to the trailer where Wayne waits in the doorway. You pass Eddie off to him, and it makes your heart swell watching Wayne pull him into a big hug as Eddie buried his face in Wayne’s shoulder like he would when he was little. 

Wayne helps Eddie into the trailer, and you follow closely behind after everyone says their goodbyes for now. You and Wayne help ease Eddie onto his bed, and all of the muscles in his body relax. He sighs, relieved, resting his head against his squished, unkempt pillows. Wayne pulls the blanket over him, and you head to the kitchenette to get Eddie water. A few seconds later, Wayne emerges from the room, slowly to avoid making noise.

“He passed out,” Wayne chuckles and you smile. He looks back to the closed bedroom door and then back to you. “I can’t believe I have to leave him already and go back to work,” he sighs. He looks to the clock on the wall, he’ll be due for his shift tonight. “I hate to have to go, but he’ll probably sleep the whole time.. right?”

“I think so,” you reassure Wayne. “Can I stay?” You ask hopefully. 

“Honey, you’re family. You stay as long as you want- you don’t need to ask me that.”

“I know, I just- I always just want to make sure I’m not overstaying my welcome.” 

“You’re a good kid.” 

With that, Wayne’s gone for now. Somehow miraculously back to the same Wayne you always knew. Everything has begun to settle. All of the parts that fragmented and tore him up are all falling back into place. He can do what he���s always done. His life revolved around Eddie- and he’s so relieved it can continue to do so. So for Eddie’s sake, he forgoes missing work again, and heads to his next shift. 

You look to the door of Eddie’s bedroom, suddenly a place that filled you was such an immense pain sparks butterflies and giddiness in your stomach. The space feels alive again even though he’s sleeping so soundly when you slip back inside. Your sweet, beautiful Eddie- taking up all the space in the room again and captivating your attention. He looks so exhausted but you still think he looks so angelic, as always. 

You don’t want to hurt him, so you keep your distance the best you can when you slide into the bed to lay next to him. Settling in on your side, you watch his gentle inhales and exhales and study all of the little details on his face like you have before- just so happy that you can do it again. Eddie wakes up shortly after, his brown eyes, that always make you seem to melt, are looking at you- taking in all of you again, just like you to him. How could ever not know he loved you when he looked at you like that? 

“C’mere,” he mumbles, his good arm reaching out to pull you in closer to his side. Hesitantly, you scoot closer, not wanting to hurt him. He picks up on that, always so good at reading you, and pulls you flush against his side. “So much better,” he sighs, kissing the tip of your nose. “There’s my girl.” His lazy smile makes you feel so warm. Your eyes linger on his lips, wanting desperately to kiss him again, just all the time- so you do, because you finally can. 

He helped save the world and he got the girl. This was not the way Eddie thought life would turn out for him. He’s not the main character, he’s not the hero- not like this, never like this. These were the stories he’d write about- a story like this is something he would just live through vicariously. But after everything, after all the heartache and the loss and the tragedy, he feels like he’s finally lived. But most of all, he feels like that because of you- he’s unapologetically yours. After years of silent, hopeless pining- secret yearning that he keeps hidden deep in himself- he feels so indescribably happy. It’s all due to you, and the way you’re looking at him at this moment. 

You offer Eddie nothing but sweet, soft kisses- scared to take it further because of his injuries. You don’t know how he’s feeling, so you feel yourself holding back. It’s still just as perfect as you always imagined kissing him would be. Tangled up in his sheets, your leg rests over his and your hands delicately rest on his chest. You fill his senses, and he swears despite how he must look, he’s never felt better. He wants to deepen the kiss- hell, there’s so many things he wants to do right now. His fingertips graze under the hem of your shirt, touching your soft skin. 

“Is this too much?” you ask, biting your lip. You’ve shifted so you’re hovering over him. Your hands rest on his shoulders. You’re worried about taking things too far, you don’t want to hurt him, but god, you don’t think you can keep holding back much longer. 

“Fuck no,” he exhales, his hands find your hips and pulls you down so you’re resting your weight on him so your stradling him. You can feel how hard he is, and it makes you surge with a little bit of pride, just knowing how you have this effect on him. Experimentally, you grind against him as you kiss him again. He moans against your lips and it sounds so strangled and desperate- it goes right to your core. He wishes he could reciprocate more- god, he really did. As soon as he’s better, he promises. 

You smirk, against his lips, pleased with yourself that you can make him sound like that. It’s addicting. You need more, you want to experience everything. Testing the waters, you kiss his neck as you reach down to unzip his jeans. His head falls back against the pillows and he sighs, contently as you free his hard cock from the confines of his jeans and his boxers. Fuck, he’s gorgeous like this. You can tell he’s insecure- the scars on his body from what he went through, and you’re going to show him that you think he’s stunning. 

“You’re so pretty, Eds,” you reassure him, trailing your fingertips down his torso and then pulling up his Hellfire t-shirt. You bat your lashes at him and he feels his knees grow weak. You pull your own shirt over your head and toss it haphazardly aside. His mouth suddenly feels dry, and his eyes widen. The sight is almost too much for him to take. There’d been so many nights where he’d imagined you like this- but nothing, absolutely nothing in his head measured up to this. It’s all you- his best friend, the love of his love, perched on his lap oh so prettily looking at him with a mischievous sparkle in your eyes. His heart pounds rapidly in his chest and he’s speechless. 

You move so you can bend down and press your lips to his leaking tip. You kiss and lick the precum away before slowly taking his cock in your mouth. The noises he’s making are filthy, breathy moans and it only fuels your desire to unravel him. You’re only getting started. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he wines, and you bob your head up and down the length of his shaft teasingly slow. It’s almost methodical, you pulling him apart like this. Slow and purposeful- long drawn out fucking teasing thats making his entire body shake with need. You hum content, pleased with how he’s responding to you. You look at him, from behind your eyelashes, wide doe eyes connecting with his before you pull away, a string of your saliva stretching between your swollen lips and his head. He thinks he might pass out and your hand wraps around his cock. 

“Is this okay?” you ask, smirk forming on your lips as you feign innocence. You watch as his mind stutters, unable to form a coherent response. He nods, his eyes closing tight from the sensation. It’s all too much. You press your lips to his neck, trailing kisses across his jaw. “Use your words, baby,” you purr, your breath warm on his face. “Don’t want to hurt you,” you whisper, and then suck gently leaving a little mark on his neck. 

“Please,” he whimpers, not even sure what he’s asking for. He pants, it’s all too much. 

“Please what, love?” you smile, kissing down his chest and your fingertips trace his scars lovingly as you admire his exposed skin. You move his bangs out of his eyes delicately as you gaze down at him. 

“Need you,” he pleads, leaning up as much as he can to reconnect his lips to yours. “Fuck, need you so bad, baby.” 

You pull off your jeans and toss them to the floor near your shirt. Now, you’re just left in your bra and panties. You’re a little nervous- but you shouldn’t be. There’d been so many instances over past summers where you and Eddie have gone swimming together. This isn’t showing any more than that, but this is different. This is so different. Because you wouldn’t see him staring at you, gawking at how you’d look in your two pieces. He’d keep his desire hidden away, so you never knew how crazy you made him. Now, there’s no stolen glances. It’s all laid out in the open, and he’s staring at you with such an intensity that you can’t focus on anything else. 

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he sighs, reaching out to feel you. His hand trails across your side, running down your curves. He rests his hand on your hip, feeling the soft fabric of your panties. “I like these,” he winks, releasing the band and watching it snap back into place against your hip. “So pretty.”

You reach behind you as he smiles up at you, and unhook your bra letting it fall. You watch his Adam's apple bob as you pull the material away. His eyes darken as he gulps, god you were so fucking perfect. “Fuck, you have perfect fucking tits,” he groans, reaching down to stroke his cock, needing to relieve himself if only just a bit, as he takes in all of you. You shimmy out of your panties quickly, wanting to be close to him again as soon as possible. You press your lips against his, and you straddle his lap again. 

You can feel the coolness of his rings against you as he lines himself up with your entrance. You slide down onto his cock and the stretch feels so goddamn good. You moan, holding onto his shoulders to stabilize you. “Mmm Eddie,” you gasp, surprised when he thrusts up and his hands rest on your hips. He guides you, letting your hips do most of the work then- guiding you to fuck yourself on his cock. Your brain is fogged with lust- it feels so fucking good. He feels so good. It’s all so incredible, you can’t think straight as you lose yourself in the movement, working up to a steady rhythm. 

“That’s it baby,” he praises. “You’re doing so good, fuck. Use me, sweetheart. Want you to get yourself off with my cock.” He smirks when you whimper, loving the way he’s speaking a little too much. Your whines are his favorite sound, he decides. It’s all too much, he doesn’t know how long he can hold out. Your blissed out expression, your tits bouncing in his face, your hips moving against him, your pussy taking his cock so well… it’s so much better than he could’ve dreamed. You’re like an angel, and he’s mesmerized taking it all in. 

“Fuck, your so big, Eds,” you whine, moving your hips and grinding against him. Without losing your pace, you lean and kiss him hungrily, and you feel the all too familiar knot start to form in your stomach. “‘M so close,” you mumble, cock drunk and chasing your own orgasm. “Wanna cum together,” you plead against his lips. You straighten your back, and you decide to give him a show. You bring your hands up, massaging your tits and tug at your hardened nipples as you continue to bounce on his cock. 

“Fuck, baby, I-“ he strains, reaching around you and grabbing your ass, squeezing as he matches your pace and thrusts up into you. His fingernails dig into your flesh and the sensation makes you dizzy. It’s all too much, it all feels too good. You feel like everything is heightened, your senses are all too overwhelmed in him. He sits up fully, pressing fevered kisses on your torso, mumbling how much he fucking loves you, and it’s enough to send you over the edge. 

The feeling of your walls clenching around his cock, is enough to make Eddie orgasm shortly after you. Whimpered sighs of relief escape his pretty lips as he finishes inside you, you moving your hips until he’s pulling out, all of his energy spent. He collapses back into his pillows, his chest rising and falling heavily to catch his breath. His hair strewn about on his pillow messily as his eyes fall heavy as he basks in the feeling of this total bliss. 

You lay down next to him, both of your bodies glistening with sweat. You take a moment to also catch your breath and you catch his eye. “Shit,” you exhale, and giggle. He smiles softly, reaching across to tuck your hair back out of your face. “That was..” you begin, not able to finish your thought and you stare at his ceiling. 

“Yeah,” he sighs in agreement. He turns his head to look at you, smirking. “You had a crush on me,” he teases. 

“Shut the fuck up,” you grumble, hiding your face in your hands. “You’re such a dork,” you mumble, tossing a pillow at him playfully.

“You really didn’t know I was in love with you?” He asks with a chuckle, leaning over carefully to grab his box of cigarettes from his dresser. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Well you didn’t know either,” you say defensively, getting up to go to the restroom. You grab your shirt and pull your panties back on- just to have something on when you go to the bathroom. When you return, Eddie’s taking a drag and he beckons you back to lay down beside him. He lifts his arm so you can take your place snuggled up to his side. He lets out a long exhale and the smoke wafts up and out of the vent in the ceiling. He kisses your forehead, and Eddie just watches as you slowly drift off. 

He’s fighting against sleep so he can finish his cigarette. He eventually realizes he can’t force himself awake much longer. He taps it out and drops it in the ashtray, the temptation of dozing off with you overtaking everything else. He wraps his arm around you and pulls the blankets up, resting his chin on the top of your head. Wrapped up in each other, the two of you sleep better than you have in months.

TAGLIST: @sunshinepeachx @downbear @fanlifeaamt @exploding-bonbon @losingmygrasponreality @skiddypiddy @andvys @djodirt @moonlightsolo @kyga01 @sheisjoeschateau @melaninjhs @v3lv3tf0x @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @sunshine-mrk @danymunsonharrington @mrsjellymunson @fanficfantik @the-unforgivenn @punkrockmlchael @keeryhours

[messiahzzz]

i have seen several posts around that addressed how discouraging gale from taking the crown of karsus is “keeping him from realizing his true potential.” that tara is merely upset at his choice, instead of being utterly devastated at the loss of her little love. that it’s not a bad ending per se because to get there he didn’t need to sacrifice 7000 innocent souls in the process. gale isn’t continuing the cycle of abuse either, he still appears to love tav and does come back for them to offer them ascension. he wants them to be equal, so it can’t possibly be an unhealthy dynamic, right?

but what of gale himself, his own convictions, values, and everything he holds dear? everything flawed and human that shaped him into the person he is?

player: are you saying you want to ascend? claim godhood?

gale: no, not like that. i don't want to join them. i want to better them. a god's powers, paired with a mortal conscience, a mortal heart.

gale’s motivation for acquiring godhood is that he will able to aid mortals in a way no other god has ever done before. he won’t hide behind pretense nor require blind devotion of his followers. he will understand and be able to empathize. he wholeheartedly believes that he will be different - he will act.

gale: [..] the gods could aid us if they wished, but instead they cower behind ao. so let us act ourselves.

gale believes that by becoming a god he will kill two birds with one stone: aid mortals and acquire enough power to quash any of his insecurities and enemies in the process. that by ridding himself of every perceived flaw he'll finally feel like he will have enough to offer - maybe, just maybe he'll even be content. his flaws are merely holding him back from becoming the best version of himself, and by ridding himself of everything fallible, he will be whole. maybe this is what all of his suffering has led up to. maybe the orb chose him. maybe the reason he had to endure all the pain, isolation, and excruciating loneliness was so that he could realize that he was meant for something even greater. after all, power feeds ambition. and what is more powerful than a god? his convictions were certainly naive, he possesses enough knowledge to know better. don't get me wrong, part of him definitely wants to spite mystra a lil. but his intentions at that time were mostly pure. a reflection of his self-hatred and feelings of inadequacy.

player: this is wrong, gale. that power will corrupt you, even if you can seize it.

gale: it won't, i swear to you. it's merely a tool - a means to an end.

once we meet gale at the party in his new godlike form, it is apparent that even with all the power at his fingertips, he has reached no greater knowledge about himself. his insecurities are still as present as before, he merely is less subtle in his compensation - repeatedly highlighting his grandeur and how dull life on faerun is compared to the wonders of elysium. it is also genuinely crushing to see how little he thinks of himself even now.

gale: i was nothing. a drifting dust mote of a wizard, abandoned by my goddess, my powers lost, my reputation destroyed. and look at me now. i'm their proof.

any perceived dismissal of his Greatness™ is met with immediate disdain.

gale: a bold decision to treat a divine being with such cold indifference.

nodecontext: aloof, annoyed you weren't impressed with him

gale: you mortals do love to live dangerously, don't you?

nodecontext: the slightest hint of a threat - you've probably made an enemy here today. or at least, you've lost a friend.

he is still desperate to impress. emphasizing what an honor it is that a new-born god chose to bless their little soiree with his presence. gaze upon all his divine glory! gale has now become the embodiment of everything he criticized about the gods. his original intentions and plans are discarded and long forgotten. he assuages his erstwhile companions by telling them to simply pray to him, in case they should ever require aid. if they're lucky and their ambition pleases him, he might even deliver.

player: what does the 'god of ambition' offer to his followers?

gale: i 'offer' them nothing. i inspire them to seize their destinies for themselves.

player: interesting, so you help mortals help themselves?

gale: precisely. though that isn't to say i'm averse to the odd bit of direct encouragement.

gale: [..] my aims are set a little higher than offering cursory blessings to just any half-decent spellcaster.

gale: regardless, ethical quandaries are more the remit of my mortal devotees. they do love to talk, and faerun is starting to listen.

aiding "any half-decent spellcaster" is unbefitting of his status. he isn't concerned with questions of ethics and morality either. deeming such matters beneath his divine capabilities.

once gale has ascended and established his domain, what remains of the gale we knew? what of his mortal heart?

minthara: your ambition is not cruel, but you fear that if you indulge it, you will lose yourself in the mysteries of the weave and unravel the world.

minthara: you are afraid of so many things, and it is that fear that keeps you true to yourself.

gale did lose himself and ultimately became one of his biggest fears. considering that his existence as a being of pure ambition leads him to constantly seek out greater heights, it isn't farfetched to believe that raphael's prediction will indeed come true.

player[astarion]: ambition? finally, a god i can get behind...

gale: i assure you, this is merely the prelude to a far grander vision. elysium's in for something of a shake-up.

all that remains of gale is a thin veneer of the person he used to be. what he presents is a hollow echo of the old gale. he does retain some of his mannerisms and quirks, but he is definitely a lot colder and more condescending. if his personality already changed that drastically after a duration of only 6 months, what will he inevitability turn into when he has eternity at his disposal?

essentially, you are aiding gale in the eradication of himself. eradicating everything about him that made him into the loveable, charismatic, awkward, kind, buoyant person he was. everything about him that he perceived as defective, flawed, and lesser-than. before, his hubris was merely an expression of his own discontentment and low self-worth, but now he is hubris incarnate. all of his worst qualities have been amplified.

gale: i am ambition incarnate. as indistinguishable from that most potent sensation as mystra herself is from the weave. and word is spreading.

nodecontext: palpable, almost unsettling excitement from him - hint of megalomania

he put his trust in tav, trusting their judgment and relying on them to nudge him in the right direction. after all, they had plenty of opportunities to show him that they are an ally worth following and confiding in. but in the end, the prospect of what he could be, the things he could give them, the enemies he could yet conquer, won over the desire to simply accept him and help him rebuild a life on solid ground. tav denied him the unconditional love he craves most out of their own selfish desires.

tara: you were looking out for him. i expected better of you.

as i've already mentioned, gale desires nothing more than to be seen, accepted, loved, and valued. having a partner who wholeheartedly supports and believes in him is enough to make him feel content. most importantly - he just wants to live. to enjoy life with everything it has to offer. his ambition can’t be quenched because he hungers still. believing that only by acquiring more power will he finally be enough and reach said acceptance.

we see in his good ending that his own contentment was even able to influence and (temporarily) sate the orb's ever-present hunger:

gale: [..] or perhaps the orb's hunger was fuelled by my own, and my contentment influences it in much the same way.

gale: that's how i feel with you - content. it's a rather unfamiliar feeling, i must say. not something gale of waterdeep ever craved.

it is devastating that he doesn't reach the same feeling of fulfillment if he chooses to pursue godhood, and is instead compelled to continuously surpass his own accomplishments. not being granted rest or reprieve.

gale: i achieved everything we hoped i would, and still i'm not good enough for you?

gale pursuing godhood isn't evidence that he "has been evil all along" or that he "just waited to be unleashed" either. we can't diminish tav's influence in this outcome, they are after all an extension of the player. able to steer every companion toward a path of redemption or to enable them in their worst traits. fandom has already established that by letting astarion ascend you are actively supporting him in becoming the very thing he despises most, putting your own ambitions and idea of what you want him to be above his healing, this is no different.

tara: the gale i knew wasn't like this. he recognised his mistakes. he was contrite. all he wanted to do was live.

tara: unfortunately, he fell into company that turned his gaze towards foolishness. yes, i mean you.

player: gale is his own man, tara.

tara: false. he was mine. though now he belongs only to his own pride.

yes, the epilogue cutscene is beautiful and there is something bittersweet and romantic about his love for tav being one of the few emotions that remained a constant throughout the past 6 months. he didn't need to come back for them, but he did cause he loves them still. no matter how warped his definition of love may be now. while it is abundantly clear that tav ranks lower on his priority list than they did before, his commitment remains.

gale fears isolation, hoping to never return to the time when he was hopeless and alone, stuck inside his tower. by heading in this direction he is once again creating a self-fulfilling prophecy.

tara: [..] if i pretended you hadn't turned tail on every lesson you set out to learn, i'd have no right to call myself your friend.

morena may as well have already resigned herself to her son’s death. elminster partly blames himself. for his lapse in judgment, as well as being the one who plucked him from obscurity in the first place. mourning the kind, bright-eyed boy who cried at the scorched roses in his neighbor's garden. tara won't be here anymore to care and look out for him either. he has lost his oldest and dearest friend, the one who witnessed his downfall from grace and never left his side. who believed him to be the finest mind AND the finest wizard she's ever had the pleasure to know. who was certain that he’d find a way out of any crisis no matter the circumstances. ...and if tav declines his offer to ascend with him? what does he have left?

gale: yes, i am rather radiant, aren't i?

tara: don't flatter yourself, gale. you've debased yourself in ways i could never have fathomed.

tara: goodbye gale, i hope the heavens are worth it.

gale’s godhood ending deals with the loss of humanity, the loss of oneself, and everything one holds dear. it is a devastating and bone-chilling narrative. it is a tragedy.

gale: i hope you don't think less of me. great ambition should not come at the expense of what you already hold dear. i see that now.

if gale could see himself, he would be horrified at the losses he deemed necessary to get here. he would be horrified at what he’s become.

[king-sil44]

I’m tweaking out a little. I went with friends to see the Sonic 3 movie on release day. Was really good ofc. Went to see it a second time the other day with my best friend. Sorta fixating on movie Sonic content. Might even watch the Knuckles show (y’know despite the unnecessary amount of Wade I’ve been hearing about) because he’s my favorite version of Knuckles in the Sonic franchise.

But that’s not what I’m here to yap about.

What I wanna know is why aren’t more people hopping on the Knuxadow ship train? Like???

I’m usually not a big shipper of Knuckles and Shadow, more of Sonadow girlie. But in the movie universe?? Please people imma need y’all to start dropping fanart and fanfics of them before I start having to make it myself.

LIKE THINK ABOUT IT.

(Spoiler Warnings btw)

- Both watch the same soap opera, La Ultima Passion I think it’s called (Knuckles is watching it in an episode of the Knuckles series I think and Shads is getting into it in the movie while hangin with Stone in the Crab). I could totally imagine them watching it together and arguing over the plot lines.

- Both ride motorcycles.

- You can’t tell me Knuckles ain’t the type to fall head over heels for someone who can EASILY kick his ass. “What a woman😳” type vibes but it’s after Shadow rocks his shit.

- IMAGINE Sonic and Tails. Cuz Knuckles is their big brother. Can y’all just imagine them lowkey bullying him? The whole immature nine miles? Making barfing noises if they catch Knuckles and Shadow flirting (in their own way), making very obnoxious kissing noises when Knuckles is gushing about how powerful and strong of a warrior Shadow is. THEY WOULD.

- Also Shadow, not being experienced with romance feelings or a crush, would have no IDEA what he’s feeling. I think his “OH” moment would be while watching other people interact. Be it in a movie/show, seeing Sonic and Amy interact, or Tom and Maddie. A whole “So this is love?” vibe.

- Someone theorized that in the hypothetical Knuckles & Shadow series that Keanu and Edris had talked about, they would be working together to locate all the Chaos Emeralds after they got lost at the end of the movie. CUE TWO SUPER POWERED ALIEN DUDES GOING ON A ROAD TRIP TOGETHER. And I think THAT is when they would become friends and start to form feelings for each other. Chat does this count as forced proximity?

- And we mustn’t forget Tom and Maddie. Tom doing the typical “I don’t want this dude dating my kid” routine (in his case tho it’s fair. Shadow did try to destroy earth and almost killed him) and Maddie would be supportive and I KNOW she would pull out the “leave the door open” line. Iykyk hehehehehe. They would both be really supportive of Knuckles having a crush and I feel like Shadow would try his best to be kind to them for Knuckles. He would be awkward.

- It’s also worth noting that if the whole Black Arms thing does happen in the cinematic universe and it ends like in the Shadow game with Shadow basically killing all of them, Knuckles and Shadow would BOTH be living the “I’m the last of my kind” lives. Not to mention both of their species have MESSY histories. Like we know the Echidnas were not perfect, otherwise they wouldn’t have been at war for so long. And we KNOW that the Dark Arms are all lunatics. Boyfriends can bond over their family drama.

THATS ALL. For now. 👹

And I know we probably gonna get Rouge in the franchise at some point and Knuxouge will be canon I’m sure but like… can a dude dream? And ask for more people to share this dream?

HEAR ME OUT PEOPLE-

PLEASE HEAR ME OUT!!

[stxrrnightjxr]

So like I actually need moonwaterkiller to be real because idk they’re just it. Like they’re IT

Three people who look like they could single-handedly take down a regime, destroy an army, idk become a dictator if they wanted too

But they’re soooo fucking soft with eachother and it’s almost disgusting how domestic they can be

Like Remus who’s simply just imposing because of his height and looks (even if he isn’t really as mean as people think he is, he still looks a little scary and no one can stop me from thinking that)

Barty who looks like he could rip out someone’s lung or something, and has definitely thought of it before, if he wanted to

And Reg who could probably kill someone with a well-placed glare?

But then you catch them huddled up together on the couch watching some stupid Christmas movie, sharing a bowl of popcorn (Barty’s hogging it) under about seventy blankets?

And they’re all so possessive and protective of eachother too

(Especially Remus near the full moon when in a magic AU, or even in a muggle one he just is.. like those r his boys, no one touches them)

And what if I said tall Remus, mediumish height Barty, and short reg? OR tall Remus, average height Barty, and tall Reg who’s taller than Barty but not taller than Remus? (I haven’t really thought about shorter Barty, but .. 🤨🧐)

And I feel like their dynamics are just a little different with eachother

Barty + Reg have been together the longest- and they’re so attuned to eachother that they could be having a whole conversation across a room with just looks. They’re both a little volatile, and butt heads a lot- (but when Remus came it he sort of balanced them out). They have the propensity and the ability to be really toxic, and sometimes that can come out with eachother- but they love eachother too much to hate eachother. (I feel like if they didn’t love eachother, they’d absolutely loathe eachother and honestly that’s just them)

Remus + Barty are a little different. Barty takes a little while to warm up to being fully vulnerable with people- just because it’s been ingrained in him to be cold and rude to anyone who doesn’t know him. It caused a few rocky parts in the beginning, because Barty absolutely wouldn’t let Remus in to many of his emotional turmoils, and Remus felt like Barty didn’t love him as much. (Of course, he did- it just took him a bit). And Barty is incredibly protective of Reg- another thing that caused a little strife- Barty, most especially when he’s moody and a little horny, doesn’t really like people touching Regulus (who isn’t him,) because like that’s his man? And so when Remus did, Barty was a little sour- but it only really took a bit before Barty was like ‘oh yeah, this guy’s cool.’ (Remus still lets Barty have his ‘Regulus time,’ but Barty’s learning to be a little forgiving.

Regulus + Remus. They’re honestly really vanilla in my mind. Not vanilla like boring, but they’re just really soft- like it’s not uncommon to walk in and just find them cuddled up on a sofa or something, either sharing a book or reading their own- but just being close. Reg’s secretly a big cuddler to me, so when Barty’s busy, is overstimulated (because Barty to me def has some type of touch-aversion at times, and at other times he’s hyper-touchy) or just doesn’t feel like staying still, Regulus’ll go to Remus, who’s always down to lie somewhere comfortable that doesn’t require him to move his bones too much.

I’d like to think it started out with Bartylus, and Reg eventually rekindled his relationship with Sirius (because I can’t live with them hating eachother) and met Remus, and then Barty met Remus, and it all kind of spiralled from there. (Reg’s eyes widened and looked over to Barty to see he was practically already drooling over this guy)

And Remus was so pathetically oblivious that at some point a very frustrated James had to finally pull him aside and tell him, “Merlin, Moony- those two have not stopped giving you ‘fuck-me-eyes’ for months now, at least talk to them before Pads has an aneurysm.”

But then they all got together and yes

[tangents-within-tangents]

Hot take:

Crosshair does not have the Imperial disillusionment and redemption arc of The Bad Batch

Emerie does.

Crosshair has an arc for sure yes but it's not that.

I was thinking about this scene:

and how it got right what this scene kinda didn't:

(It was so close but then bad writing decided to undercut the moment with a joke rip)

And I think it's really interesting that these characters who were more or less raised into the Empire/First Order and chose to leave it are all directly asked why.

But take a look at Crosshair's answers in comparison:

Different context for the asking, yes, but still, compare that to clones like Howzer, Cody, Slip and Cade who left or turned against the Empire because they knew what the Empire is doing is wrong and they weren't just going to blindly follow orders:

Crosshair - Loyalty, Purpose, and Survival

Crosshair didn't choose to join the Empire (though the show isn't very clear or consistent about how much control the inhibitor chips have) but he did, for whatever reason, choose to stay. By the end of S1 we know his chip has been removed and as he definitively says "This is who I am." There were likely still other influences on his decision, but listen to how he talks about the Empire in the S1 finale:

Hunter: Crosshair, I've seen what the Empire is doing. Occupying planets and silencing anyone who stands against them. You know it's not right. Crosshair: You still don’t see the bigger picture, but you will. Hunter: Can't you see they're using you?

Crosshair: We’re not like the regs, we never have been. We’re superior. The Empire can’t protect the galaxy without strength, this is what we were made for. Think of all we could do, together!

Crosshair: You all are meant for more than drifting through the galaxy. It’s time to stop running. Join the Empire, and you will have purpose again.

Hunter: They destroyed an entire city! Crosshair: They did what needed to be done. Kamino, regs, the Republic, that time is over. The Empire will control the entire galaxy, and I am going to be a part of it. Hunter: Don't fool yourself. All you'll ever be to them is a number.

He undeniably knows what the Empire is doing, but he does not care. In fact it sure sounds like he actually supports it and finds self-meaning in it. Hunter spends those episodes trying to convince him it's wrong, he doesn't change his mind. In the end they offer him an out and he doesn't take it.

Wrecker: You coming with us? Crosshair: None of this changes anything. Hunter: You offered us a chance, Crosshair. This is yours. Crosshair: I made my decision.

The next we see Crosshair in "The Solitary Clone" (S2:E3) he follows orders and shoots the Desix governor, right after Cody heartbreakingly tries to do what's right and find a peaceful solution.

Cody: Tell me something, Crosshair. This new Empire, are we making the galaxy better? Crosshair: We’re soldiers, we do what needs to be done. Cody: You know what makes us different from battle droids? We make our own decisions, our own choices. And we have to live with them too.

After this (glorious!) conversation, Crosshair stays. Maybe this began to seed some doubts, but he actually smiles a few scenes later when Rampart assigns him another mission. It seems like for him it truly is as he said in S1:E1 (chip not enhanced yet but still influencing him enough for his brothers to notice he's acting strange):

Crosshair: Republic, Empire... what's the difference.

Crosshair: Orders are orders.

This unethical mission that finally pushed Cody over the edge does not change Crosshair's mind about the Empire, at least not enough for him to take action.

But what does?

Mayday: And here we are, the survivors. Combat troopers stuck babysitting cargo shipments. Crosshair: Mission’s a mission. Mayday: Yeah, I used to say the same thing.

Mayday: After all the clones have done, all we’ve sacrificed. We’re good soldiers, we followed orders. And for what?

This mission has nothing to do with how the fascist Empire treats the galaxy, it's about how they treat their soldiers. It's about how Mayday loyally fought and served his whole life and Lieutenant Nolan let him die

Lt Nolan: He served his purpose as a soldier of the Empire. Crosshair: You could have saved him! Lt Nolan: Perhaps you didn’t hear me, he is expendable, as are you.

Crosshair thought he could find purpose within the Empire, and Nolan shows him exactly what that will be.

His turning point is accompanied with this powerful visual of the ice vulture, a symbol (and threat) of death, and also set up within the episode a symbol of survival:

Mayday: Vicious creatures, but you have to admire ‘em. They find a way to survive.

This critical moment (that gives me chills, oof this episode is a masterpiece!) comes right after Nolan calls him expendable and directly threatens him:

Lt Nolan: And if you speak to me again with such disrespect I'll see to it you meet a similar fate, clone.

then Crosshair sees the vulture's shadow and turns to Mayday's dead body (ahh visual storytelling my beloved) then makes his decision:

Crosshair turns against the Empire not because he believes Hunter was right about this:

Hunter: I've seen what the Empire is doing ... You know it's not right.

but because he was right about this:

Hunter: All you'll ever be to them is a number.

Redemption (both in fiction and irl in my humble opinion) comes with making amends and reparations (which is why death 'redemptions' bother me so much but that's a rant for another time). Unlike Emerie, Crosshair never explicitly denounces the Empire or his own actions within it. He never says anything to specifically show if and how his views have changed from what he said on Kamino. He makes amends with his family (sending the warning message, helping Omega escape, making up with Hunter) but that's about it. The most we get in terms of acknowledgement is this:

Crosshair: I thought I knew what I was getting into with the Empire. I thought I was being a good soldier. Hunter: Nobody really understood what was happening back then. Crosshair: I’ve... done things. I’ve made mistakes. Hunter: I have regrets too, Crosshair. All we can do is keep trying to be better, and who knows there just might be hope for us yet.

Which is nice and all but it's more about them making up as brothers so it's way too excusing tbh ("no one knew what was happening back then" ummm? "The Empire will control the entire galaxy, and I am going to be a part of it" remember? And even if at first Crosshair was being controlled by the chip, the fact that he chose to stay after it was removed* means he condones and is therefore still accountable for those actions).

There's also a bit of self-destructive guilt:

Crosshair: Omega, don't risk anything for me. I belong in here.

Crosshair: Omega needs you both. So I’m doing this alone, it’s what I deserve. Hunter: Don’t even think about plan 99, Crosshair. Omega needs all of us.

(which thank you Hunter for pushing back on the death redemption bs and oh look is that a wrap up for the purpose thing?)

But there's no action taken on his part to make up for what he's done or to stand against the Empire (aside from the bare minimum of help with Tantiss, only after it became personally relevant, which like yeah he had trauma to deal with but still).

While I do think the implications/follow-up of Crosshair's turn should have been handled better in S3 (like rip Howzer! he deserved an apology, but that's a rant for another time), I don't necessarily** think this arc is a bad writing choice. It's just saying different things than we expect:

Maybe Crosshair's story is not about standing up against an unjust system, like we see with many other characters (who deserved more screen time but that's a rant for another timeeee). Maybe his story is about how even those who are loyal to the Empire, who actually believe in it, still suffer under and within it's rule. Not to garner sympathy, but to show that there is no winning.

Crosshair has another 'so what changed' convo in S3:E14 with Rampart, in which they draw parallels to each other:

Rampart: You used to believe good soldiers followed orders. Crosshair: Depends on who's giving them. The Empire betrayed us both. Rampart: And you think you can fight them? That's not you. You're like me, loyal to no one but yourself. Crosshair: I've changed.

(note how he says who's giving the orders, not what the orders are)

"Loyal to no one but yourself" describes Rampart much more than Crosshair, since we often saw Crosshair pride himself as a loyal soldier of the Empire whereas we saw Rampart abuse power to be self-serving within the Empire (like when he killed Wilco to save face). But they were both betrayed either way. Vice Admiral Rampart, snively Imperial opportunist through-and-through, shouts "I was following orders!" as he is arrested for the Empire's purposes. (Edit: and where Crosshair rejected the Empire and found new purpose fighting for his family, Rampart was still self-serving in the finale. He still tries to gain power for himself and he gets his comeuppance).

Even Hemlock, the final boss immoral Imperial scientist, who has to be benefiting the most from this system, echoes the expendability idea:

Hemlock: What I am working on is beyond your understanding. Something so vital to the Empire it makes me indispensable.

Then there's CX-2, also set up as a parallel/foil to Crosshair (fight me), who in the end is discarded as no more than a weapon, a tool that served it's purpose, showing us what would have become of Crosshair if he had stayed.

There is no winning in the Empire. Loyalty is not rewarded, it "doesn't go both ways." Everyone has to fight for their value. Even high ranking individuals** who for a time benefit from the injustice, in the end are just pawns to be used up and cast aside at a whim for the Emperor's gain. Even people who are motivated by self-interest alone cannot survive within this system, the only viable option in this galaxy is to fight the Empire and dismantle that system. (unless you conveniently find a magically safe island to hide away on but that's a rAnT fOr AnOtHeR tImE)

Which brings us back to...

Emerie - Cooperation, Compassion, and Choice

(Okay this post has already gotten away from me but I still want to talk about her to show the contrasts.)

Emerie may not have been given a lot of screen time to really flesh out her development, but there is a lot that is pretty clearly implied with her:

Crosshair: They’ll never turn her [Omega] over. Hemlock: They don’t have a choice. She is a clone, and therefore Imperial property. *Camera cuts to an angle more centered on Emerie’s face*

Crosshair: Give me your access card! Emerie: It won’t get you outside!

Emerie: I tried to warn him what would happen if he did not cooperate with the Doctor.

Emerie: Prisoner? Omega, you are no such thing. It will take time to adjust, but you will acclimate. It is far safer in here than out there.

Emerie: You should go back to your room. Crosshair: You mean her cell?

Emerie: Why children? Hemlock: Children are easier to attain and more agreeable to the subjugations. They are unaware of why they are here and what they possess.

Emerie: They're children. Like I was... Was your plan to discard them too? Nala Se: The Empire will keep them in order to control them.

We don't know a lot about Emerie's background, but it's clear that she had a lot less choice than Crosshair and less opportunity or ability to leave. Unlike Crosshair, we never directly hear Emerie's views of the Empire (and she was most likely 'taken under Hemlock's wing' before the Empire even came to power), but lets look at how she talks about the Tantiss:

"Remain calm. Cooperate and you might survive."

"Don't make this worse, Crosshair! There is no escape!"

"All of us serve a purpose here."

"The Doctor will inform me, if it's necessary."

"It's best not to ask questions."

"Escape is not possible, Omega. This is for your own good."

She honestly does the best she can within the system she is also trapped in. She tries to help Crosshair, Omega, and the vault kids in the only way she knows how (warns Crosshair about the hounds and security, tries to protect Omega from Hemlock, tells Scorch his "actions were extreme" with Jax, insists on overseeing Bayrn's retrieval, double checks his m-count (to give him an out), and tries to find out where he came from). When she gives Omega, and later Eva, the doll, I think it shows just how little she really is able to do here (and it's kinda heartbreaking imo).

The framing of this shot especially (after Jax's escape attempt) visually shows how Emerie herself is trapped/imprisoned:

Despite the fact that very little of this is Emerie's fault, she has very little power and she is doing all she can, the narrative does not excuse her role in the Empire:

Nala Se: What will you do, Emerie? Emerie: There is nothing I can do. I don't have that kind of power. Nala Se: Don't you?

Emerie: I- I was doing my job. Echo: Yeah, I’ve heard that before. You’re a clone. How can you be part of this?

These fighting-the-Bystander-Effect conversations parallel these exchanges:

Hunter: We made a choice, and so did you. Crosshair: Soldiers follow orders. Hunter: Blind allegiance makes you a pawn.

Crosshair: We’re soldiers, we do what needs to be done. Cody: You know what makes us different from battle droids? We make our own decisions, our own choices. And we have to live with them too.

which did not change Crosshair's mind. And honestly, all respect to Echo's disappointed mom glare™ but I think it's clear Emerie had already made her decision, she just needed help to actually be able to do anything about it. When she stopped Echo, with her voice wavering on the verge of tears (ahhh v good voice acting), she clearly had no intention of turning him in. She's on her own in the Empire's most secure facility with very little resources, if she had tried anything on her own she most likely would have failed and been killed

Omega: Emerie, you don't have to do this. Emerie: (sigh) I’m sorry, but I do.

but as soon as she is enabled by an ally, she immediately turns around to help: giving information and getting Echo through security, helping the kids escape, and giving Omega the tablet that allows them to free the other clone prisoners.

Where Crosshair's turn is accompanied by the symbolic imagery of the ice vulture, Emerie's is the removal of her (literally rose-tinted!) glasses:

Symbolizing how she has shed her previous views/indoctrination that altered her perception of the Empire and blinded her to it's wrongs. It's disillusionment.

Emerie's story shows us that even those who are raised and indoctrinated into this system can, should, and will escape (with needed help). Even those who did not choose to be apart of the Empire and are not making the decisions still have the responsibility and ability to act on what they know is right.

Emerie, whose name means 'Home strength' 'Brave' and 'Powerful', and "reflects the importance of leadership and authority in the workplace".***

While Emerie is only in one more scene after her turn, so the wrap up is a bit rushed, she still very simply does what Crosshair does not:

Emerie: Because I was wrong about this place. And I'm trying to do the right thing.

Echo: I’m sure Senator Chuchi would find what you have to say very helpful for our cause. Emerie: I have a lot to make up for. I’d like to help out however I can.

She admits wrong, takes accountability, commits to making amends, and leaves with Echo to go take on the Empire (which hopefully we will get to actually see more of some day).

So, in short, she's showing us how redemption is done right!

---

Notes:

*Whether this writing choice was good/logical/in-character or not is another discussion entirely, but I'm going off of what we were given, what the show is presenting in the canon text and (reasonably inferred/intentional) subtext. Crosshair is pretty multifaceted and I could only touch on so much here. There's a lot of ways to interpret his character/choices, but I tried to avoid the realm of speculation or fanon explanations (even if they sometimes make more sense lol).

**History and political theory are not my area of expertise at all, so I have NO idea how well this aligns with real-world fascism stuff and therefore what implications this storytelling choice could have. I think the message of like 'if you think you could survive or gain power by doing what the Empire/fascist system wants you are wrong' could be good (like how everyone is actually harmed by the patriarchy type of a thing), but I hesitate bc maybe there are those who would benefit, since it's a hierarchal system, right? If anyone more knowledgeable than me has incite to share, by all means

Either way, I do think it works in-story and in-universe though. It's just in the execution. The main problem (even from a strictly theme/character arc stand point) is the lacking follow-up/consequences for Crosshair in S3. Like you gave your character accountability by removing the chip and I think that's great setup for an arc but you gotta follow through with that and actually hold him accountable!

***I'm always curious when clones have 'normal' names, like why did they chose the name Emerie of all things? So I looked it up. Idk how reliable sources are for name meanings so take it with a grain of salt but it's still fun. Fits pretty well, and clones names have definitely had significant meanings in the past (like how Rex and Jesse both mean 'king') so I'm pretty sure it was intentional.

Anyway, thanks for coming to my tedtalk

[zorobraun]

ex husband ghost at your kiddo’s football game part three

you want to die.

simon wants to die as well.

you both regret the night that theo told him about your wedding.

it’s been weeks. it’s been weeks that the two of you have been fighting over the stupidest things. the weather is cold and you sent theo to simon’s house without a sweatshirt? fight. simon brought theo back to your house ten minutes late? fight. you sneezed too loud in front of him? fight. simon rolled his eyes with something you said in front of you? fight. you’re both putting each other through hell. however, you’d rather have a stressful life with him, than live a peaceful life without him. you’d rather scream, fight, curse his name, than feel that excruciating distance between the two of you.

you’re both too worn out, though. you both know that one of you have to give in, let your guards down. you know he won’t do it. and that’s exactly why you’re standing in his doorstep, waiting for him to open the door. theo is at football practice, it’s already dark outside. it’s cold, just like simon’s gaze when he opens the door and stares at you. silence. silence. silence. “what are you doing here? theo is at football practice.” he says in a low, but secretly surprised tone. “i know my son’s schedule, thank you.” you reply in an annoyed one. simon sighs, gripping the door tightly with one hand, while the other runs through his hair. “it seems that you also know my schedule, since you’re bothering me during my day off of work.” he bites back mockingly, face serious.

“stop this madness, simon. i can’t take this anymore. we both can’t. we’re destroying each other, we both look like shit, look at us.” you point at yourself then at him. in his eyes, you look beautiful still. “we look exhausted. dark circles under our eyes, empty gaze, you’re still hitting the gym but i can tell you’re not eating enough. you’re too lean. i am too. so let’s just… stop.” you swallow hard, sighing. you look at the ground for a second, making simon lock his jaw, thinking about your statement. you’re right. but at the same time, he has this need to watch you tolerate it. just like he has been tolerating the fact that you’re marrying an idiot in three weeks.

“just tell me why you’re here, and i won’t put up another fight with you.” simon looks into your eyes. you know his eyes so well… you know they’re begging you to just say that you’re sorry for everything, and that you want him to take you back. that you regret replacing him. the funny thing is: you are sorry for everything. you want him to take you back. you regret replacing him. “i… i’m here because… i can’t hold back these words anymore. they’ve been stuck in my throat for so long now…” you swallow hard, your desperate voice matching his desperate eyes. simon keeps looking at you, analyzing your every move, your beautiful necklace — the one that he gave you in your last birthday, when the two of you were still together.

oh, simon knows you miss him. you miss his fingertips brushing over the back of your neck when he used to put this same necklace on you. he knows it. there’s no way you don’t miss him. he keeps repeating this thought over and over again, as if he’s trying to convince himself that he’s right. simon licks his lips, feeling out of his mind. “what are you waiting for? speak up.” he breaks the awkward silence with a surprisingly calm tone. you’re both looking into each other’s eyes, and the eye contact hurts. it hurts, until you look away from him to stare at the ground. you swallow hard, your hands shaking a bit. simon wants to put his fake hatred for you aside and just hug you tightly, to break your hesitation in tiny little pieces.

then, you look up at him to meet his eyes. you lick your lips nervously, placing your hand on the back of his neck. you kiss him. and nothing could’ve ever prepared simon to this unexpected kiss. he grabs your arm with his gentle touch, pulling away from you after a second or two, even though he was reluctant about it. he opens his eyes, his shallow breathing making little noise. simon clears his throat, jaw clenching from anxiety. “don’t.” he whispers, eyes locked with yours. god, he missed this. he missed the feeling of your soft, warm lips against his. he missed your sweet taste. your cheeks get red from embarrassment. what were you thinking, anyway? that he would kiss you back after everything that happened? you sigh heavily, shaking your head.

“i…” simon cuts you off with a kiss. you widen your eyes at first, getting caught off guard. he pulls you close by the hips, kissing you so slowly but so passionately. you kiss him back with the same affection. you kiss him back until you’re both breathless against each other’s lips. simon breaks the kiss to lean his forehead against yours, eyes closed, heavy breathing. “i broke up with him.” you break the silence, your voice is low and a bit breathy. simon pulls slightly away from you to make sure he heard it right, since your kiss got him too lightheaded. he’s looking into your eyes to find any hint of joke or lie. but you just keep looking at him with lovesick eyes, and suddenly he hates to love you so fucking much.

“how long have you been single?” simon asks in a serious tone, pretending to be nonchalant. his hand leaving your waist so he can focus on this conversation instead of your curves. “a month.” you sigh quietly, crossing your arms. he frowns slightly, making you look at the ground. “what? why didn’t you say a word?” simon’s tone is a but frustrated now. you look at him with a sad smile. you touch his arm. “c-can i come in?” you ask, squeezing his arm gently. he swallows hard, taking a step back to give you space to come in. he closes the door, leaning his back against it with crossed arms, waiting for you to start talking about something. anything. maybe an explanation. you turn your back to face him, standing in front of him, from a small distance. you swallow hard.

“i didn’t say a word because i didn’t want you to think that i broke up with him just because you said all of those things to me. i didn’t want you to feel guilty about it, because i know you would. you’re too kind-hearted.” you sigh with a sad smile, staring right into his eyes. simon clenches his jaw, his breathing growing a bit erratic. “i broke up with him because our relationship was a lie, and i was the liar.” you add, feeling a bit uncomfortable to say it out loud. truth really hurts. simon doesn’t move, feeling a bit nervous about this subject as well. something tells him that this conversation is about to get worse.

simon is staring at you as if he’s waiting for you to keep talking, since he vowed to not beg for your love anymore. you lick your lips nervously. “the reason why i asked for a divorce…” you start, making him swallow hard with the delicate topic. “was because i loved you way too much.” you look into his eyes before looking down to search for some courage. simon sighs impatiently with your unserious statement. “wait, simon. i’ll elaborate.” you say in a defensive tone, taking a step closer to him.

“remember when my mom died, right? so, when my mom died, i died too. i couldn’t see mysef getting over her death. meanwhile, we were also having a hard time in our marriage because i was so fucking depressed, we were fighting too much, i was treating you like shit, i wasn’t being a good mother to theo… i was just making the two of you suffer, basically.” you start tearing up, making simon let his guard down, too. you can feel his heart softening again. and it gives you strength, somehow. “and i’m so fucking sorry about everything. i… i hated myself for so long.” you admit it, trying to hide the shakiness in your voice. simon is looking at you with so much empathy in his eyes. so much love.

“i know that’s not an excuse, but i was young, immature, i didn’t know how to handle that situation. i was lost, and i felt so done with everything. you knew that, too. regardless of you being by my side always, telling me that it was okay, that we would get through that tough moment together, i felt guilty. i couldn’t accept the fact that i put the person i loved the most through hell during months and months. you did everything and more to help me, but i didn’t want to be helped, because i found comfort in depression, somehow. i didn’t want you to think that all of your efforts didn’t matter, because they did matter. but i was the problem. i was the only one holding me down. so then, i made the worst and hardest decision of my life…” you pause, looking at the ground for a second. “i asked for a divorce because you didn’t deserve to go through all of that. i thought i didn’t deserve you, and i really didn’t, back then.” you look into his eyes, a few tears running down your cheeks as he takes a step closer to you.

simon is speechless when he pulls you into a tight, comforting hug. he’s tearing up because he remembers everything — he remembers how hard it was for both of you. even for theo, regardless of simon’s efforts to separate his son of the marriage’s mess. it’s fair to say that he tried his best to be strong for his family, specially for you. “love, you can’t just carry the weight of the world on your shoulders and think that it’s okay.” simon mutters, stroking your back gently. “you shouldn’t have felt guilty for anything, there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you, anyway.” he says in a low tone, placing a kiss on your forehead. he stares at you, holding your face on his hands. “why didn’t you say anything? you’ve kept it all to yourself all along, angel…” simon smiles sadly, in disbelief. “you’re stronger than you think, but you’re also an idiot.” he adds with a soft chuckle, kissing your nose. you chuckle quietly, too.

“it was so hard for me to open up about it… the last thing i wanted was to make you feel like you or your self-sacrifices weren’t enough. god knows i wouldn’t even be alive today if it wasn’t for you and theo.” you sob quietly, your tears wetting simon’s hands. he pulls you into another tight hug. “you gave me the two greatest gifts of my entire life, simon… our son and an opportunity to love you.” you place a sweet, grateful kiss on his neck. simon’s heart feels like it’s about to burst with your words. “your love keeps me gentle. your love listens with patience and empathy. thank you for asking ‘what do you need?’ or ‘how can i help you?’, and saying ‘we’re in this together’ instead of running away. thank you for staying, even when you didn’t have reasons to. i’m so, so sorry for pushing you away, baby.” you add in a low, shaky voice. your arms are still wrapped around his neck as you both feel each other’s heartbeats.

simon smiles softly, stroking your hair. “sweetheart… i will stay when it’s scary, when it’s hard, when we don’t see eye-to-eye. on all our good days and bad days, i’ll choose to love you, always. we’ll learn from each other, just like we always have.” he pulls slightly away from the hug to kiss your tears away. you nod with a soft smile, caressing the back of his neck. “simon, i just need to hear you say that you forgive me. i’m not even asking you to take me back or try to give us a chance of starting over again, even though i could wait for you and respect your time patiently. that is, if you still want me, by any chance. i would never pressure you, if you think it’s too soon…” you sound too desperate, too messy, too in love, and it’s embarrassing.

simon places one reassuring kiss on your lips and one daring kiss on your forehead. he sighs quietly, looking down at you. “i forgive you, even though you did nothing wrong.” simon caresses your cheek with his thumb. you shake your head, chuckling quietly. “and soon?” he holds back a laugh, raising an eyebrow. “do you even know how often i’ve wished to have you near me again?” simon puts a stray of hair behind your ear, staring at you with soft bright eyes. “i still want you in such a desperate way that i could just drive to the church we married and do my vows all over again, with empty seats and without the priest.” he holds your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours. he takes your hand to his lips to place a kiss on the top of it and on your palm. “i love you, idiot. i’m crazy about you, you know that.” simon smirks, grabbing you by the waist to pull you into a gentle kiss.

you don’t really know how to explain it, but kissing simon feels like a breath of fresh air. like something you’ll always need at the end of the day. like warm sweet tea during winter or sunday mornings in bed. you’ve missed this more than you could ever explain. he’s so special to you. “i love you more, but you won’t believe that.” you whisper jokingly against his lips, making him smile before breaking the kiss. he kisses your neck. “of course i won’t. my love for you… just reached neptune. maybe even a little bit further, to be honest.” he mutters playfully next to your ear, placing one last kiss on the soft, warm skin of your neck, breathing you in. “oh, is that so?” you raise an eyebrow, staring at him with a smile. “then… my love for you just exceeded the whole solar system.” you joke back, making him chuckle with a frown.

“since when we’re into astronomy?” simon laughs, realizing just now how random this whole cheesy interaction was. you shrug, laughing too. “all i know is that i’m into you since the day we met.” you wink playfully with a smirk. “you’re lucky i’ve been under your spell for years, otherwise you’d be single by now.” simon teases you with a laugh, picking you up from the floor as you wrap your legs around his waist. you kiss him between smiles and quiet laughs, your arms wrapped around him in a cozy hug, while you lay your face on the crook of his neck, breathing him in. “just so you know… you’ve never stopped being my love, even when i was with him. i’ve always been yours. my heart too.” you say next to his ear, in the same comfortable position. he carries you as if you were weightless.

“you know i feel the same. you’re so precious to me, love.” simon smiles softly before kissing your cheek. “god, ms. riley, i’m sorry if i’m being too forward, but… you’re so gorgeous.” he smirks while he lays you down on his bed, placing both of his hands on each side of your head to stay above you. “such a perfect body…” he glances down your body, biting his lip. “and i’ve missed you so much…” simon whispers next to your ear, kissing the area under it, nibbling on your earlobe. you sigh heavily with the tingling sensation, wrapping one leg around his waist. you kiss and lick his neck, leaving a few love bites on him. simon can’t help but press himself against you, kissing your lips until you’re needy enough to try to kiss him again when he pulls away. “you have fifteen minutes until we leave to pick theo up at his football practice.” you breathe out, staring into his lustful eyes. it sounds like a dare, and he’s not a man to back out.

“you know i only need seven minutes inside, sweetness.” he says in a low, cocky tone. you swallow hard when he leans down to get closer to your face, his lips almost touching yours. “but it’s been so long since the last time i fucked you, that you might be done in five.” simon’s voice is low and breathy, and he has a half smirk on his lips, almost as if he’s mocking you. well, it’s been so long since the last time you had him like this, that you had forgotten how talkative and dirty-mouthed your husband is during sex.

two months later…

you take a deep breath when you finish throwing up for the second time this morning. you frown in pain, placing your hand on your sensitive stomach. you brush your teeth again, staring at yourself in the bathroom’s mirror. you look beautiful and healthy, but your body feels too sore, specially your breasts, you can’t even breathe normally without wanting to throw up. and most importantly, your period is late. you hold back a smile when you realize that you’re pregnant. you’re a mother, so you know your pregnancy symptoms by personal experience. you bought a pregnancy test yesterday, because you were already suspecting it.

you do the test without thinking twice. now you’re waiting patiently for the result. your hands are shaking a bit, you lick your lips nervously. a few more seconds and you see the result: positive. you widen your eyes, smiling like an idiot. you want to scream and shout, but you can’t — you want to surprise simon, since he always dreamt about having more kids with you. your heart is beating so fast, you’re so happy, it’s overwhelming, even. you already know how to surprise him, it’s fair to say that you’ve been wanting this more than your husband. however, the surprise will have to wait until you find out if the baby is a girl or a boy.

you’re too anxious to wait, though, so you look at the result again. it says that you’ve been pregnant for more than three weeks, so it’s possible to know the baby’s sex if you’re at least eight weeks pregnant. you sigh quietly, excited. you’ve just decided that you’re going to the doctor right now, counting on your lucky stars. you also need to talk to theo about the surprise, since it involves flowers and the family’s tradition of buying you flowers every sunday — you never got tired of them, somehow. going to the floriculture at sundays was theo’s favorite hobby when his parents were still together. now that you and simon got back together, theo is more than excited to finally buy you flowers again, today, a warm sunday.

“love, what the fuck are you doing in there? it’s been ten hours.” simon says in a joking tone as he knocks at the bathroom door. you quickly clean the test and hide it on the back of the drawer. you open the door with an innocent smile, staring at a sleepy simon who’s wearing nothing but black sweatpants. “oh my god, you really can’t stay a minute without me, can you?” you tease your husband, crossing your arms against your chest, trying your best to hide the euphoria. simon sighs with a chuckle. “i was just worried. are you okay? you look pale.” he stares at your face with a certain concern, placing a kiss on your temple. he wraps his arms around you, squeezing you gently to his chest, comforting you. the action makes you forget about the sickness for a few minutes.

“i’m okay.” you reply with a soft smile, caressing his arm. all you want to do is kiss him and tell him that he’s going to be a father again, but you need to control yourself. “do you need something? a glass of water, maybe?” he’s still worried about you, gently brushing some hair off your face with his fingers. “no, babe. i need to go to the grocery store, though.” you lie, smiling genuinely at him. simon frowns, chuckling. “okay? out of a sudden?” he keeps laughing quietly, glancing at you. “yes. don’t worry, i’ll be back quickly.” you kiss his cheek before walking towards your wardrobe to start getting ready to go to the doctor. “oh, you’re in a hurry, love.” simon raises an eyebrow, looking at you from afar with an awkward smile on his lips. “do you want me to go with you?” he asks, running his fingers through his hair lazily.

“there’s no need to. i’ll just buy a few things, but thank you. wait for me, okay? we’re going to the floriculture today, theo is driving me crazy about it.” you look at him briefly with a smile. simon nods, smiling back at you. “y-yeah, sure.” he replies, still finding your behavior a bit weird, but it’s fine. you grab your purse and walk towards simon to kiss him goodbye. he kisses you back, smiling softly as he watches you leave the bedroom.

before leaving the house, you go to theo’s bedroom to tell him about the news, alongside with your plan to surprise simon. “mom! congratulations! i-i’m so happy, i’ll take care of her or him, i promise!” theo gives you a surprised smile, hugging you tightly. “i know you will.” you smile, kissing the top of his head. “just don’t tell your father, baby. deal?” you smile at him, stroking his hair. “yes, of course. then i’ll have to choose only pink flowers or blue flowers, right?” theo needs your reassurance, smiling. “exactly, my love. okay, see you later! i’m in a rush, i’m sorry.” you squeeze his hand gently. he nods, excited. you chuckle quietly before leaving the house for good.

(…)

you’re holding a gorgeous bouquet of flowers in all shades of pink, with a small card on top of it. you and theo can’t seem to stop smiling, and simon notices it — this extreme happiness. he doesn’t say a thing, though. he feels the same, so it’s probably normal. your family is finally back together, he couldn’t ask for anything more. simon’s hand is on your thigh as he drives back home, brushing his thumb against your soft skin. you place your hand above his, squeezing it gently. theo is on the backseat, smiling and daydreaming about his little sister. he’s so happy. it’s almost like he feels complete now, with his other half being generated inside you.

when the three of you get home, you walk towards the table, holding theo’s hand. simon is on his phone as you both look at him with a quiet laugh. “dad, come help us with the flowers. we need to put them on the vase.” theo tries to not sound suspicious as he grins like the happiest person in the world. simon raises an eyebrow with a chuckle. “alright, alright.” he mutters with a soft smile, walking towards the two of you. simon starts taking the flowers out of the bouquet while you and theo puts them in the vase. “what is this?” simon frowns curiously, taking the pink card between his fingers. “what, babe?” you fake confusion, staring at him. theo is already smiling when simon opens the small card.

‘congratulations, girl dad!’

simon’s eyes widen as his mouth opens in surprise. he looks at you, then at theo, then at you again. “shut up, y/n.” he mutters with a shaky voice, still too shocked to move. you start tearing up while you laugh softly, nodding. theo watches his parents in silence, happiness plastered all over his face. simon chuckles in disbelief as the card falls from his fingers. his smile grows bigger as he picks you up in an excited hug, making you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist with a happy chuckle. simon squeezes you against him carefully, just enough to not hurt you. he places sweet kisses all over your face before speaking. “do you have any ideia of how happy i am right now? my heart is about to explode, love. thank you so much for making me the happiest man alive.” simon’s gaze softens with a genuine smile, making you kiss him again.

he stands you up to carry theo. simon hugs his son so tightly that the kid feels like being smashed, making the three of you laugh. “you have a sister now, buddy!” simon chuckles in excitement, kissing theo’s forehead. “i’m so happy, dad. i’ll be her hero!” he replies, hugging simon’s neck again. you wipe your happy tears away to wrap your arms around them both. just like a family hug should be. “that’s right, you’ll look after her and i’ll look after the three of you.” simon smiles softly at him before kissing your temple. you stroke his back gently, kissing theo’s cheek. this is pure happiness. it feels like you’ve been dreaming about this for a long time now.

“the three of you are my purpose.” you say, smiling softly, stroking both of their faces with bright eyes. simon starts tearing up from joy, from the feeling of an enormous sensation of being complete. you feel the same, he can tell by the way you’re crying again, just like the time you discovered about theo’s pregnancy. you always get too emotional and he doesn’t blame you at all. simon laughs softly, stroking your hair to comfort you. “i’m sorry!” you laugh too, fanning yourself to try to stop crying. “it’s just that… i’ve never been happier.” you add in all honesty, taking a deep breath. simon’s heart just melted completely.

he puts theo back on the ground to cup your face and give you a sweet kiss on the lips, to show you how much you and the kids will always be safe and live well under his responsibility. simon strokes your belly gently, before crouching in front of you, with theo by his side. they’re both admiring your belly, even though it’s not that grown yet. “i can’t believe i’ll have the privilege to have a mini you running around the house with theo. our little princess will be so cute, love.” simon looks up at you with an infatuated chuckle, placing a sweet kiss on your belly. you laugh softly, caressing his hair. “now we have a mini simon and a mini me.” you smile wholeheartedly. he grins while standing up, his hand placed on your belly.

“give me a daughter with your delicate beautiful face, your enchanting smile, your dark-bright eyes, your stubborn heart and your even temper…” he smiles, giving you another kiss. you wrap your arm around him to feel him closer to you. “…so that even when we’re gone, the world will find within her all of the reasons why i loved you.” he places a sweet kiss on your shoulder before kissing you quickly again. “everything feels better when shared with you.” simon whispers against your lips, pulling you impossibly closer by the waist. you both smile.

so this is it — you got your happy ending, after all. your heart is completely full. this overwhelming love was meant to be. it was meant to be shared with simon, and simon only. you’re drowning in the purest form of love and happiness and you don’t want to see the surface ever again. with simon, theo and mia by your side, you intend to stay that way.

[perfectlyoongi]

SOULMATE!YOONGI who said he was the owner of his heart and destiny. Yoongi was never a believer in destiny, the idea of a person being born destined to love seemed completely absurd to him, without any sense — he believed that people were born to live, not to love; as such, Yoongi never looked for his soulmate, saying always and every time that he would love whoever he chose, when he chose — he believed it was his own choice. “no one is born to love. we are all born to exist and love is not as important as they make us believe.”

SOULMATE!YOONGI who fought against his feelings for you. Yoongi was the master of his own destiny, of his heart, he couldn't just let ancient stars and capricious gods take over his life — no; Yoongi would love who he wanted, when he wanted and he knew it wouldn't be you, someone he recently met and who impacted him in such a way that made him question his beliefs. “i can’t be with someone who makes me question everything i believe; it doesn’t make sense to be with someone who makes me change my beliefs.”

SOULMATE!YOONGI who fell in love with you without wanting to. but the stars were guides, the gods were writers and the universe already knew that Yoongi would love you forever — even though he didn't want to; it was just your look, your smile, your essence that captivated Yoongi, taking him to lands unknown to him, making Yoongi walk the path of love without him even giving you the permission to send him on that journey of loving you. “i don’t know where i’m going or when i’ll get there, but something in me tells me that i will always have you by my side on this journey and that’s enough for me.”

SOULMATE!YOONGI who didn't believe in soulmates until he met you. maybe the stars are right; maybe the gods are right; maybe the whole universe is right when it says that we were born to love, because as soon as Yoongi met you, and no matter how much he denied it, Yoongi knew that it was his destiny to dedicate his entire life to making you happy, to making you feel important, to loving you. “i always looked for a purpose in my life, not believing that i was only destined to create art; and now with you here, now that i met you, i realized that my purpose in life was to devote myself to you.”

SOULMATE!YOONGI who believed that you met by destiny. numerical and truthful probabilities were astronomical in all the fields that involved you and Yoongi — but, by coincidence, they existed; billions of people existed at the same time as you and, against all odds, you found each other; billions of people loved at the same time as you, but you and Yoongi only loved each other — what other explanation was there for such probability other than destiny? “meeting someone like you is a unique experience, only reserved for those who are destined for you — and i swear to you that the universe itself put me in your path so i could love you.”

SOULMATE!YOONGI who could only imagine a future if you were there. because he could already read the stars, he could already hear the gods, he could already feel the universe uniting you with him; you were Yoongi's soulmate and his life could only make sense with you by his side — especially because Yoongi always said that his life had only started the day he met you. “if my life began the day i met you, then it only makes sense to only be able to see a future for myself if you are by my side so i can love you forever.”

SOULMATE!YOONGI who swore to move mountains and rivers to be with you. Yoongi knew that destiny took as much as it gave and he knew that too much luck was a sign of distrust, and all he thought about was the universe trying to take you away from him; but no matter how, no matter when, if your presence in Yoongi's life disappeared, he himself would face the various gods so he could have you in his arms one last time. “even if i need to burn the world to the ground to get the attention of the gods. not even if i need to destroy all human life to call upon the gods. if they take me away from you, they will regret giving me the power to love.”

[jpitha]

Do What it Takes

Everyone goes on and on about the humans, how strong they are, how dangerous their world is, their risk management (or lack thereof) and even their ability to process the rather worrying things they call “food.”

One thing I haven’t seen though is people discussing their… aspect that I find fascinating. They even have a word for it - grit. It’s this ability to take on unimaginable stress, and maintain that strength of resolve. That realization that the only thing they can do is endure. They even have a saying. “When you find yourself going through Hell, keep going.” Hell here is a substution for any kind of hard times they’re currently experiencing. It’s an idiom, don’t worry about the specific meaning of the word. The saying implies that if you’re “going through hell” then you need to keep going, because otherwise you won’t ever get out of the hard situation you find yourself in.

When it was first explained to me, a lot of what I saw about the humans snapped to place, like magnets on a table.

Once, back during the war I saw a single human shoulder a crew operated slug thrower and - by themselves - hold off an entire Zenni boarding party long enough for the rest of the ship to mount a defense. Not only did they shoulder and fire the weapon themselves, but they survived!

Others weren’t so lucky. I’ve heard tales of humans walking into active reactors to stop an overload, blinding themselves from ultraviolet radiation to repair a hull, and sustain withering gee forces to crush attackers. When asked why they’d do that, most of them replied that they just “did what they needed to” or that “they do what it takes.”

I’m not here to say that we can’t do that either. Having grit or strength of character isn’t solely a human development. But maybe as a result of the world they evolved on they tend to have grit in greater supply than other sapient species. They “do what it takes” because they’ve always had to do what it takes to survive.

A human friend has recently offered to take me to Earth, their homeworld to “see the sights.” His only warning about his own planet was that we should probably avoid some months. I asked why.

He waved his hand dismissively as if it was just a minor trifle, an inconvenience. “Oh, it’s hurricane season in the fall. I don’t know if you want to experience one of them.”

“What’s a hurricane?” I asked, cautiously.

“It’s a large storm that spins up over the ocean as the planets way to help remove some heat from the water. They can get pretty wild sometimes.”

When a human tells you that something can get “pretty wild” one’s fur tends to poof out.

I said I’d think about it, and went back to my cabin to research these Hurricanes. About an hour later I was shaking in my seat, glued to my pad watching video after video of houses just… disappearing in the wind and water.

The next day, I confronted him about the hurricanes. Once again, he was dismissive. “You get plenty of warning, and time to evacuate, they’re not that big of a deal.”

I bristled, and my ears twitched. “Not that big of a deal? But your homes get destroyed!”

He nodded. “True, that does happen. But, it’s not a surprise and we come prepared. You do what it takes if you want to live there.”

I think I’ll take him up on his offer.